#well I’ve never stopped listening to him
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Lease
best-friend!roommate!reader x Steve Rogers
*This was a totally random and spontaneous idea. Not edited. Light language (so we can get *the joke*), pining, light angst, hurt/comfort, and fluff. This work is for all ages! WC ~2k
Sam Wilson introduces you. Both your parents were veterans and active at the VA, so you practically grew up there.
At first, you’re reserved, a little formal, but very nice. Oddly enough, Steve just likes that you don’t hound him with questions about his military service and how it was different based on the decade, etc. You are just…around to listen.
He finds himself filling any (comfortable) silence between you with stories. Stupid things. Things that don’t have to do with the VA or his past or even his present, which is entirely work as Captain America.
Steve gets to a point where he is itching to live off of Avengers Campus, but he doesn’t want to live alone.
One day he finds you hunched over a laptop and grumbling, “why is everything so fucking expensive?”
A sentiment which, of course, he frowns at.
“Sorry,” you shrug, a look of sincere apology on your distraught face. “I didn’t realize it, but apparently, I’m poor with my measly three-thousand-dollar-a-month budget for an apartment. Now I have to find a roommate, and—“ you start wagging a finger at him sarcastically “—I don’t know if you’ve noticed there’re some real weirdos out there. It’ll take me longer to find a safe, stable roomie than it takes to—“
“I can move in with you.”
Steve almost gasps at how fast the words fly out of his mouth.
“Well, not ‘move in’ to your current place. I mean. I can—I would be willing to live with you. Sorry! That sounds bad. You’re not bad. I meant…you know, anytime you want to chime in and stop me would be helpful.”
You remain silent and smirking.
“Right. Okay. So…think about it? Or not, that’s fine.”
“Let’s talk figures, Rogers. The square-footage just doubled, and I need to rework the budget.”
Moving in is shockingly uneventful. You’re easy to get along with, when not suddenly up on your high horse about something, and Steve is easy to get along with under the same circumstances. You push his militant rigidity to the brink on purpose, but never too far.
Things sit out in the wrong place, but it’s never dirty. Stuff doesn’t always get returned promptly, but if he asks, you’re on it.
There are two bathrooms, thank mercy.
He has random and odd hours. You work nine to five, mostly. It’s the perfect level of independence without loneliness for Steve.
Sam and Natasha stop by regularly or ask you both out for drinks or to fun, new places.
One time, when Nat is ribbing Steve to go talk to a cute girl ordering at the bar, he panics and takes your hand in his on the tabletop.
“How can I do that when my date is right here?” he grits playfully through his pearly white teeth. “Leave it alone.”
Each word is punctuated by a shift forward and a slight tilt of his head.
Natasha is unamused and instantly grabs your other hand (which was holding your drink) to pull you toward the dance floor.
It’s awkward for multiple reasons. You’d pay a whole month’s rent to know what Sam and Steve talked about after you left.
Sam takes a different approach, luring—or attempting to lure—Steve into setting up just one dating profile online.
“You don’t have to put photos,” Sam assures, “and you can stick with your first name only. I swear to you, man, this’ll be good for you. Get you out there more. Help me out here, Tagalong!”
He turns to you for support. To be fair, you did quite literally tag along with your parents for years to the VA, and it stuck. Why it sticks as a grown-ass adult? You’ll never know. You just don’t mind Sam Wilson saying it because he means well and never uses it in public.
“Uh, nooooo.”
Sam’s face falls. “What?”
You look at Steve and grimace, clicking your tongue. “He’s not ready for that,” you conclude.
Steve jumps out of the chair, arms wide with victory.
“THAT’S WHAT I’VE BEEN SAYING!”
“I know you told her to say that,” Sam shouts back.
“Did not,” Steve barks.
“He did not.” You lean against your bedroom doorframe. “I just think it’s obvious.”
That makes Steve deflate a little. “Wait, but…I’m not that bad.”
“Oh gosh,” you fake with a huge smile, “look at the time! Gotta be off to bed…”
The men keep fighting albeit muffled from your side of the wall. The only part you can make out before giving them privacy is Sam, whining, “but you actually like bubble baths and walks on the beach, dude. You’re gonna be money on there.”
“Hey, why do you not, ya know, date?”
You look up from your breakfast, stunned because that came out of nowhere. You’ve lived together over six months now, and Steve hasn’t asked for one iota of personal—well, romantically personal—information.
Twiddling your fork around, you think.
“I always imagine what my parents would think of him, any guy I’ve ever considered being with longterm, and…I was just never proud to say ‘here, here’s the one,’ I guess.”
Your parents have been gone for years. You value their opinion anyway.
“Mhm,” Steve hums, “the one?”
You take a bite of food, straightening your back, tossing a dismissive hand in the air. “Yeah, if you believe in that sort of thing.”
He’s quiet for a while.
“So you’re waiting for the right partner?” Steve finally mutters, and he watches your noncommittal gesturing intently.
That was a ‘yes.’
Natasha knows. Sam knows. Steve suspects but won’t admit to anything. You are kind and unreadable.
You’ve always been kind, so there’s no discernible difference to signal you have feelings for him in return. He can’t bring himself to be anything less than a gentleman at home and makes absolutely no moves to find out.
He stays out in the living room a lot more, all hours, hoping you’ll mention staying in for a movie, praying you’ll be tired enough to fall asleep on his lap on the couch.
He’s in way too deep.
What Steve suspects is that it would be too awkward to start anything while living together, but he doesn’t want to leave you in the lurch for rent or a roommate. He also desperately doesn’t want to move out. The status quo is comfortable.
He loves being comfortable with you.
The stress of not telling you, while needing to make some sort of arrangements should telling you blow up in his face, starts to wear on him.
Steve is a pro at compartmentalizing his life, so it’s when he’s stuck at the apartment without any missions, a handful of meetings, and a team that all have lives for two long months that he cracks…in the least attractive way.
He’s messed up his sleep schedule with worry and playing innocent, and out of the not-so-blue, a horrible, vivid nightmare hits him. Steve isn’t even on the mattress anymore by the time he figures out there wasn’t carpet like this in Germany and the desk chair he grips is not a motorcycle.
“Rogers,” he hears. “Rogers, can you look at me?”
The dark room is somehow hollow and stifling all at once. His head turns slower than his brain tells it to.
Steve blinks.
“Do you know where you are?”
“Hey, sweets,” he husks from a dry throat. “What…”
“Can you tell me where this is?” You step closer and pry one of his hands off the mesh to cradle in yours. “Where are we, Rogers?”
“Home.” He swallows. “Our home.”
Your smile doesn’t reach your eyes, but you nod like he’s done well.
“Okay, Steve, I’m going to get you some water. If you want—“ your fingers smooth over the back of his hand, nudging the other to release the chair “—you can sit on the bed.”
You don’t leave. You don’t even get up from the floor.
He doesn’t notice he’s clutching your hands, shaking slightly until long seconds go by.
“Yeah. Okay.” Steve lets go, otherwise unmoving, contemplating how he ever thought the semi-rough industrial carpet felt the same as mud.
You carefully hand him the water and rub his back, using your nails to trace invisible patterns. He can’t remember what he was so scared of a minute ago. He only knows he’s sweating that empty kind of confused.
“What’s that supposed to do?” he asks absently.
You shrug. “Eh. Back scratches just feel good.”
Steve’s mind remains blank as he sips his water.
: We need to renew the lease soon. Like this week.
Steve has stalled as long as humanly possible; he is officially not being a gentleman now. He is a coward.
: Talk about it when I get home?
: Could you at least tell me if this is a hard NO on staying here or just some concerns/questions?
: I don’t get why you’re being like this.
Steve gets it, but he hates it.
: I’ll be back tonight. Should I pick up food?
: ffs
: Fine. Whatever you want.
Steve also hates when you’re mad at him…which has been happening more and more.
He’s been distant, he refuses to let Sam or Nat come around for fear they’ll play match-maker and ruin the whole thing, and he is about to ruin the whole thing anyway.
Because he is not smooth. Because he is not prepared. Because he’s built up this perfect and amazing, sweep-you-off-your-feet moment.
And he bungles it.
“Out with it,” you command, haughtily yanking your portion of food from the countertop beside him, heading for the dinette.
“I want to be with you,” he blurts.
“Thank god,” you sigh, settling in your spot. “So we’ll go down to the office and sign in the morning. I don’t want there to be an issue if you’re off to wherever for who-the-hell-knows how long on the date the thing expires.”
“No, I…” but Steve’s voice is too quiet.
“There’s only a tiny window where they’re open before I have to head to work, so let me physically sign first, right? Then I gotta go.”
“Sure,” he slurs.
“Steve?” You turn to see him staring down at his food. He’s still across the room. “Are you okay?”
“I said I—I meant that—“ he huffs out his breath and taps his fist on the counter “—I meant that I’m an idiot,” he finishes softly.
Approaching with that beautiful, open-hearted kindness that haunts his days and soothes his night, you cross to him, scratching his back just the way he’s grown to crave.
“Think you might be hangry,” you chuckle.
He cannot do this. Steve is hanging on by a thread until the graze of your hand slides down his forearm to take his plate, and he spins.
He’s thought about kissing you so many times, he mapped out the angles he’d have to hold himself at, how far he needs to lean to get to you, the care to take wrangling in his strength and sheer excitement.
Steve Rogers is good at planning, at least, this part.
Gentle pecks of his plush lips to yours leave gaps in contact that let you whimper, and he fears you stopping him. He presses, wrapping his arms around you and molding your bodies together. The linoleum of the kitchen floor makes sticky sounds beneath your shuffling feet, squeaking once you hit the adjacent wall.
The force of that knocks your frozen arms into his chest, and painfully, Steve relents to step away, but not far. He bites his bottom lip and tastes the balm from yours, his head tilted in shame but fiery eyes watching you from beneath long lashes.
“Oh,” you breathe out. “Oh…you meant…”
Steve’s tongue darts out hungrily.
“Yeah.”
[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]
They're soooo cute!!!!!!
#steve rogers fanfiction#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers fic#steve rogers fanfic#steve rogers imagine#steve rogers fluff#steve rogers one shot#steve rogers x female reader#captain america fanfiction#captain america x reader#captain america x you#steve rogers x you#steve rogers x y/n#hurt/comfort
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I’m having a bad case of baby fever since I’m ovulating hard and I need fic of quackity with gf who’s ovulating like crazy and who’s begging for a baby
ooo baby fever!!! the only person in the world that i would ever want a baby w is alex😞😞 but yes, i got u my lovely <33 thx for the request
[also it cane out a bit diff than what u asked for im sorryyyy!! dont hate me bbg💔💔]
prompt: alex dealing with a baby fever filled gf
no smut but mentions of it ofc!!
everywhere you look, there’s babies. on tv commercials, at your job, even at the grocery store there’s always a baby who won’t stop smiling and cooing your way.
and who would make a cute baby? alex, your boyfriend, that’s who!
he has sparkling honey brown eyes with dark lashes framing them perfectly. his fair skin that has freckles and beautiful face moles. and his hair! he has a full head of hair that would look absolutely perfect on a sweet little baby.
lately, on your free time, you were indulging in this want and need and desire for a baby of your own. you were sneakily watching mommy and baby vlogs. you loved seeing their belly grow and their journey through their pregnancy. you even subscribed yourself to a baby magazine and it was what you looked forward to every time you checked your mail.
but you hid all of this from alex. you knew he probably wouldn’t understand. just how most men don’t understand why women obsessed over weddings and wedding planning. it also didn’t help that you were definitely ovulating.
and right now, you were sat listening to your boyfriend going on about his day. well, not really listening. more like admiring him and imagining him as a father and wow did that turn you on.
“what about you? how was your day?” alex asked suddenly
“oh, you know, i mostly just did my online coursework and cleaned the house a bit. i’ve been bored since you went out..” you said, trying to be inconspicuous
“trust me, i missed you too. now let’s eat. the food you made smells amazing” alex said, getting up to serve himself a plate
he served two plates of food, one for you and one for him. the two of you ate in mostly silence, with casual conversation here and there. once you finished eating, alex offered to wash the dishes since you did the cooking.
you sneakily pulled out your phone and scrolled through your pinterest. of course, you had baby related posts all over your feed and you loved it.
“babe.. this sponge sucks. where are the new ones we got the other day?” your boyfriend asked
“should be in the drawer next to the stove” you absentmindedly responded, eyes glued to your phone
alex opened the drawer and found your stash of baby magazines. he wasn’t blind, he knew what you had been obsessing over lately. this was the perfect time to bring it up. so he grabbed a sponge and washed the dishes. after drying his hands, he turned to face you.
“so… you’ve only been studying all day huh?” alex smirked, holding up one of your prized magazines
your eyes widened. you were at a loss for words.
“i-i uh… my sister is pregnant and um she sent me those to help her pick stuff out and—”
“hmm, addressed to our home to ms. y/n” alex interrupted
“do you think i don’t know by now? i see the way you’ve been looking at anything baby related online. i know you always volunteer to do the grocery shopping just for the chance of running into some mother with a baby… my question here is, why hide it?”
“i didn’t think you’d understand… i know how guys get when their girlfriends start talking about babies and i don’t know. i didn’t want to upset you. i didn’t want to make things weird between us..” you explained softly, expecting alex to get upset
he walked closer to where you were sitting and tucked your hair behind your ear gently.
“i could never be upset with you princesa. you don’t have to hide things like this from me. you know i love kids just as much as you do” he reassured you
you nodded sadly, still feeling a sense of guilt.
“why don’t we start trying?”
your eyes lit up and a huge grin was etched onto your face.
“you really mean it?” you asked and alex nodded with a smile on his face
“i would just adore having a little munchkin running around here. i think you’d be a spectacular mother y/n. i can just imagine them having your big ‘ol eyes and your pretty lips” he caressed your face sweetly
“and your gorgeous freckles… oh my god alex! we would have the most adorable baby in the whole wide world! do you actually want to start trying?”
“yes i do, princesa. we’re in a good place financially and also in a healthy place in our relationship. i wouldn’t want to have a baby with anyone else but you” he smiled
“you’re going to be such an amazing dad. you don’t know how much i’ve daydreamed about you holding our baby in your strong sexy arms. the way you would be super protective over them. i just know you’d have our baby on your chest at all times. you’re so innocent and precious and so so good with kids alex. you are definitely daddy material” you stood from your seat and reached out to hold his hand
“also.. i may or may not pay attention to your ovulation period…” he said seductively
“what?! why? you’re a weirdo!” you teased him
“no! i mean i pay attention to when you write those notes on our calendar! you freak” alex was red in the face and you couldn’t help but laugh at his flustered expression
while you were too busy laughing, he suddenly stood up and pushed you against the wall nearby, trapping you there.
“you’re probably really sensitive right now, aren’t you?” his voice came out in a darker tone
“m-maybe…”
“let me make love to you, princesa. quiero impregnarte ahora mismo. quiero que me sientes y que sientes que te hago la mama de mis hijos chula…” he said, making sure to kiss your neck while he spoke
all you could do was nod. his words alone made you so wet and needy for him already.
“i’ll make sure that after tonight, you’ll definitely become a mother” he smirked, dragging you to your shared bedroom
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As i approach the end of finals week, I’m taking a moment to reflect on all of the absolutely CRAZY things that have happened during my roller coaster of a sophomore year of college!
This is of course, going to go down in the history books as The David Tennant year. What started as a silly little reawakened special interest in my favorite actor has somehow opened doors for me that I never could have imagined. Writing a two hour video essay about this man is NOT how I thought I’d be spending last semester, but not only did it become one of the proudest creative projects of my entire life and connected me with so many amazing internet buddies, but it was also invaluable in helping me come to terms with my queerness and come out to my friends and family. Thanks to a silly little short about David’s BAFTA outfit, he KNOWS I EXIST NOW, which is still so wild. And finally, he inspired me to write my most ambitious piece of music to date, my 8 month labor of love Crowley’s Lament, which put to the test basically everything I’ve learned about music and performing and has been received so beautifully by you guys.
This year wasn’t all about him, though! I finally got to make my collegiate stage debut in my first opera, and Iolanthe ended up being the dream role I never knew I needed- an endearing and inspiring character that was such a fulfilling challenge for an actor and singer to play. I learned loads of challenging classical, musical theatre, and pop rock music this year, listened to a ton of new albums (Will Wood might be one of the most incredible musical discoveries of my life?), and learned a ton about music theory and history. One of my favorite classes this year was Film and TV music analysis, and I got to apply my knowledge by composing the score for one of my Discord mutuals’ short films! I turned 20 and on the same day got to perform in an original musical for my friend’s composition recital. I took part in my first ever crew assignment, had two of my pieces performed at Project 21 concerts (one with a full band!), and my original Fullmetal Alchemist song Even Into Hell was choreographed for a collaboration with the school of dance, which brought my piece to such gorgeous emotional life.
I’ve gotten closer to friends old and new, and just when I’d accepted that romance probably wasn’t in the cards for me any time soon, I met (well, started DM-ing), the most amazing person through the most unexpected set of circumstances (that honestly deserves its own video sometime in the future). My brilliant internet friend-turned-parter Merlin @elsinore-and-inverness has brought so much light and joy into my life, and I can honestly say I’m the happiest I’ve been in years.
Next stop, THE UK!!! I’m not only studying abroad on a once in a lifetime Shakespeare trip, seeing loads of West End shows AND performing at the Edinburgh Fringe, but I also get to meet my favorite London boy in person :)))) could NOT be more excited
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He found you. Again. | Part 3
part 1 part 2
Paring: Simon Ghost Riley x reader
Summary: I suggest going back to part one to really understand this plot! There’s a link above
Warnings: 18+,blood, violence, stabbing, guns, stalker, symptoms of panic
Word count: 1.5k
(Not fully edited, apologies for any incorrect information!)
Although it sounded foolish you had flashbacks to watching your investigative shows. The shows where situations like this happened in almost every episode, and thats what it should be- just an episode on the T.V. not something that you should be enduring why, why did this have to happe-
‘Are you listening to me Y/N? I came this far for you, don’t you see!’ He had stopped pacing, he was now staring you down, when he finally took a second to see what you held.
He let out a small laugh, and then his expression turned to stone.
‘Why do you have that Y/N, you don’t need that-you wouldn’t hurt me. The lamp, I can forgive because maybe you didn’t know it was me but, now you do, you can see it’s me and I…’
His voice trailed off, and all you saw was his anger boiling over when he reached to his side leading his hand to rest on a gun.
‘Drop the wrench Y/N. Drop it NOW and I won’t have to hurt you, I would never want to hurt you y-you just need to see that- so go on and drop the wrench….’
He unholsters the gun, shaking and holding it in his hand to his side. He has tears welting up in his eyes and you decide to try and coarse him, as the panic surges inside you and you aren’t quite sure that you can even move. You think back on the shows where you are meant to play into their mind games, and not fight it as it usually didn’t end well. You slowly lower yourself to the floor, forcing your fingers to each let go of your only weapon as you exercise your acting skills.
‘You’re right. You wouldn’t hurt me, never…Y-You’ve looked out for me for so long an-
‘Don’t be sarcastic with me. It isn’t funny and it doesn’t work-‘ The gun now knocking on his bouncing leg, you can see his white knuckles gripping it tighter now as he stands there waiting for your response shifting his weight.
‘I’m not being sarcastic, I’ve known you for so long and you were there that night at my house-‘ You start to take a small step towards him, when he backs away.
‘Don’t play games with me Y/N- I-I’m not in the mood for you to be messing with me- I’ve finally gotten you here all to myself I don’t want to lose it.’ He’s moving the gun between his hands when he moves towards you, making you step back.
‘You really are afraid…you-you don’t see it…you don’t get why I was at your house’ He begins to be refilled again with anger and he’s speaking so loud now he’s spitting at you.
‘You don’t see the struggles I’ve gone through to get to you, you don’t know the years I spent in training and trying to find you. I just wanted to be with you again why WHY don’t you see that!?’ He stops for a moment now only about a foot away from you, you can smell him- a smell that reeks of sweat and desperation. He moves closer to you, staring into your eyes you look away towards anywhere but him furrowing your brows in fear, wrong move. The cold metal of the gun now pushing your head back up to meet his gaze.
‘I want to have you with me, whenever and wherever.’ He was now staring through your sole, and that’s when you saw him.
In your peripheral vision you saw Ghost, his mask making his identity obvious, a wave of relief waiting now to wash over you. He was inside the door and making his away behind the kitchen, moving the small table out of the way. The same table you now realize would have been in your way had you tried to run for the door. You couldn’t bear to look, knowing that he would probably spin to see what you were looking at and it would only become worse. Ghost disappeared into another portion of the room behind a wall that couldn’t be seen so you made your move.
You tore from his gaze with the gun to your head, looking at where the front door was. He leans in closer to you, the gun still a dangerous distance from your head as he speaks.
‘That means, Y/N- that you aren’t leaving. You can’t, it’s so SO simple how do you not understand this, me, why I’m here now for YOU.’ He grabs you by the throat with his free hand just strong enough so that you could tell he was deciding whether to strangle you or not, until you just about pass out. He forces you upright, moving your face to look at him him as he slightly loosened his grip.
‘Do you understand?’ You nodded your head as vigorously as you can while still being held tightly, tears welting in your eyes. Your hands were wrapped around his now, trying to prevent it from further strangling your neck.
‘Say it, say you understand me.’ His stare piercing through you now.
‘Yes, yes I understand you’ You manage to squeak out, hoping that he doesn’t hurt you and will let you go if you play along.
‘Good.’ His grip loosens as you let out a few coughs to clear your throat. He hesitates before letting you entirely go, and decides to hold your upper arm so you couldn’t flee.
‘Now let’s get to bed- I didn’t want to come this late into the night, but it was the only way I could be sure you were alone. It’s late and you have work tomorrow…go- move…’
You were almost sick then knowing that he had so much information about you, when you had been so careful. You hadn’t seen any sight of Ghost, and thought for a moment that it may have been your imagination trying to tell you that you were saved, still stuck in fight or flight mode you couldn’t muster the urge to speak, and instead mumbled a small ‘Mmhmm’
He walked behind you, not letting go of your arm and leading you to your room, the gun still in his other hand. You try to think about what you can do to get away, maybe once he’s asleep you’ll be able to leave. Maybe you can try to seduce him and then knee him and flee, maybe you had a good enough weapon in the room but when would you find time to get it?
He’s made the way to the door now closed, that leads to your bedroom. He didn’t notice that it wasn’t closed before and decides to reach past you to open it. Your room was already dark, having not turned on any lights you notice the rampage that had torn your room apart. Standing in the door frame you saw the closet was a mess and there were things all over the floor. You crept towards the bed, just getting out of his arms when it all happens. It feels like milliseconds to you, but in real time it lasted a few minutes.
Within a second the attacker had been outmatched. Ghost made his way directly behind him, and was pulling him backwards and down to the floor in a headlock. He had been in many hand-to-hand combats with men his own size or larger and given he usually had a gun, he had to make it more personal this time. The gun shot out making you shriek out and scurry towards the closet, your hearing ringing due to being in such a confined space. The attacker now choking and stammering backwards the gun cast aside to free his other hand, clawing at Ghosts arms to be let go of. There was a struggle you heard as boots stomped in the hall and hands were hitting the walls, groans and other noises flooded your still sensitive and ringing ears.
You could tell it wasn’t an easy fight, not that any ever was between two stronger men of similar height, Ghost being slightly taller and you hoped stronger-you peered out in the hall with baited breath. To your satisfaction, Ghost was now on top of the attacker in the office space down the hall, pummeling him with his gloved hands relentlessly. You made a quick inhale and retreat around the corner you were peering from which was enough to distract him from his beatings and slowly back off the man. You backed away further into the bedroom, watching as Ghost paused to checked the man wasn’t moving and then walked towards you.
You were relieved to have the one attacker off of you, but upon seeing his merciless beating you now also felt nervous to be in his wake. You reach the wall on the other side of your room as he makes his way through the door frame. You started to close your eyes not telling If you were afraid now of him, or of being on the verge of breaking down worse than ever. Within a few seconds he had made his way across the room, his boots giving his location away for being a few feet in front of you.
‘c’mon’ His low accented voice allowed you to exhale.
#ghost cod#simon ghost riley#cod ghost#call of duty fanart#ghost mw2#cod fanfic#books#simon riley x reader#simon ghost x reader#simon riley x y/n#ghost x reader#ghost x y/n#ghost x you
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heyo! I’ve been listening to sleep token for a while now and I’m familiar with like some of the lore and such, but I don’t know the band members besides vessel very well! I’m big into ghost so I get the anonymous and playing characters theme. Can you tell me which is which and their personalities and the like? Thank you ^^
Hi there! And sure, or at least how I perceive their stage personas c: Since you already said you are pretty familiar with Vessel I will skip over the mighty vocalist, heh. Rant and gifs below!
II : The tiny king of drums. He is insanely talented and known to get really into the music. He will often mime and sing behind his kit, dangling his drumsticks or beating up his poor soundboard. He is both cool and collected but also gets very animated when he’s feeling it. You can tell he pours his heart and soul into every song. He may be the smallest but he’s got a ton of swagger and a very confident and commanding presence. And the biggest blue eyes that he enjoys peering into any camera lens's soul with (and then your own). He is a founding member along with Vessel and has writing credits. He is all about the vibes. What vibes exactly? I dunno but they are weird and wonderful. He is my personal fave...though how can you choose ffs.
III : The lanky bassist. Now this tall boy is all about the moves and chaos. He is very bendy and jumpy and kicky and he dances all over the place. He is goofy and playful and known especially for his antics with IV and Vessel. Though he will go bother II as well. He is also the most expressive with his wardrobe and paint - especially with the new looks. He can proper headbang now with his hair out which is lovely though it never stopped him before. III is by far the most talkative on stage and will yell at the crowd. You may find him holding his hand out with a question mark on his palm or demanding a pit. Like II he will also mime songs out to the crowd. He’s the lovable goober, sassy and potentially a little shit.
IV : Mr. Business Casual. He is the guitarist/back up vocalist and his screams will saturate your eardrums with bliss. Affectionately called a fuck boy, this man is the embodiment of horny swagger. He’s a massive tease. He is known for sensually stroking his guitar neck and strap, singing out to the crowd pointing and drawing them in and playing heavily with his mask. Like Vessel, he uses his hands a lot for expression. He has a quieter and more watchful stage presence but still playful, especially when interacting with III, and he has a signature leg raise and twirl. IV also demands kisses and can be found waiting with arms outstretched and on his knees for Vessel to swoop in for a smooch or leaning back hoping for III to come along for a smacker check out the yearning tag for those. He's also often just vibing with II. He has come the farthest with his stage confidence and we are so proud of him. He comes across as a genuinely kind soul and openly shows his emotion and gratitude to the fans.
And all together now
From left to right is III -> II -> IV -> Vess
#asks#long post under the cut so be aware!#i used to be a big ghost fan too back in the Papa II/III days and still love the old stuff not really into the new stuff though ;-;#got one of the old ghoul masks too#so good live though#ii#iii#iv#some flashing gifs under the cut so#tw flashing
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#ahahaha#well I’ve never stopped listening to him#0.1% is insane tho#is toro y moi really not very well known??#he and washed out originated chillwave
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And when I thought things were finally fine and had calmed down my roommate starts sending me shelters because he wants me to get rid of my cat 🙃🙃🙃
#‘she’s peeing on my stuff 😡’#listen I get that that sucks#but also…. we had a system in place that got her stop#I get putting cat spikes on the couches was mildly annoying but guess what#she wasn’t pissing on them anymore#and tell your bf to stop leaving your bedroom door open if you don’t want her to piss on your bed#like ?????#I know he’s stopped doing these things because the bf finds them mildly inconveniencing#sorry I’m not getting rid of my cat that I’ve had for almost four years and who got rehomed TWICE before I got her#because you have to put in a tiiiiiny bit of effort#‘she pissed on my shoes 😡’#she has literally never peed on shoes before I guarantee you it’s because I left for a weekend and she’s anxious#fucking calm down#you could also just not leave your shoes by the door#he already rehomed our rats because he found them annoying which I feel bad about#I didn’t fight him much on that one because they were more his than mine so if he wanted to make that decision whatever#but hell no I’m not taking my cat to a fucking SHELTER fuck you#‘she drives me insane tho’#okay well your fucking boyfriend drives me insane and you’re not seeing me demand you take him to a fucking shelter so lol#GOD this is not what I wanna deal with when I get home#and it’s just pissing me off cuz I get it’s annoying#but we’d gotten her to stop mostly and now it’s started again because of things 🙃🙃 the fucking bf is doing 🙃🙃#so like this is your own fault and you’re expecting me to get rid of my baby because your bf can’t be assed to slightly alter#how he likes to live which is apparently being allergic to just keeping the bedroom door closed#jfc#kaz rambles
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Another thing, I wish Sherl was a more meaningful member to the cast and he had some actual importance.
Like, in game he’s supposed to be the straight man/grumpy one of the group, doubting Katrielle’s strange plans and trying to keep her on track. Except the problem is, Katrielle doesn’t listen to him, and Ernest just follows whatever Kat says, so Sherl’s constantly outvoted or just brushed off. And they’re the only two who can hear him, so he’s out of luck trying to go with anyone else. Like he’s really only there to be snarky because he can’t really be anything else, given how this dynamic is
But I dunno, I just wish Sherl could have been more impactful to the overall plot instead of just a quirky side character? Like for example, having a scene where Sherl tells Katrielle to get her priorities in order (and there are actual stakes in this hypothetical scenario) and she has to actually listen to him, and then him being the actual grounding force of the trio, instead of just constantly ignoring him. Or maybe him being the one they go to for emotional support, or to just dump their feelings on while he gives some level of advice
I dunno, I just kind of wish Sherl had some actual impact to the group and he wasn’t just a character that could easily be cut out of the story if they wanted
#like Kat I think you’re great but you do have priority issues and maybe you should listen to Sherl#just because you’re usually right doesn’t mean you can just ignore him#don’t know why I’ve been talking a lot about Sherl today#I guess I just remembered he existed and that I think he’s got potential as a character#he’s just constantly shafted#maybe he could also tell Ernest that he needs to actually grow a spine and not let Kat walk all over him#or to just tell her how he feels#and again he needs to talk some sense into Katrielle#because Ernest’s not gonna do it#and nobody else in this game’s gonna do it#so why can’t it be Sherl?#again not saying Katrielle’s bad#I actually tend to relate to her quite a bit#I just feel like she has flaws (particularly priority issues) that need to be addressed in game that never are#where was I going with this? I was talking about Sherl#well I think I’d risk repeating myself so I’ll just stop here#I just think Sherl’s neat#professor layton#katrielle and the millionaire's conspiracy#layton mystery detective agency#sherl oc kholmes#katrielle layton#ernest greeves#ramblings
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i can’t think about how misogynistic life is without going crazy so i just do weed so i don’t kill myself
#personal#like i’m trans masculine but i move through society as a women and WOAH. shit SUCKS#and then if you have any identities that intersect with that BAM. it’s worse#i’m buying an air fayer rn and im just kinda thinking how birthday plans always fall on me to plan and get the gifts ready for#and it’s been this way for like. ever!#and if it wasn’t me it was my mom#and to be fair my brothers had to plan too but most the time it’s bc i didn’t plan it and they’re texting the day before like what’s the#plan#and suddenly ur a teen again wrapping all the christmas gifts after putting up the tree alone and ur mom yells at you for not wrapping them#right. u sign ur brothers name on the gift ur mom bought him to give to ur dad#and if you ever explained it it’s like well it’s just a gift it’s not a big deal#and they wouldn’t get it ALWAYS like this #and i’m not even mad about this! it’s everything!#and then the way you just have to put up with men. like god having men not listen to me and call me names at work is getting to me#like it’s always dear sweetheart baby WHATEVER. and any time you ask it to stop bc ur fuckign WORKING. it always gets worse#and it’s ur fault for not just taking it. or asking men to stop trying to help bc it’s unhelpful#like i asked a guy yesterday and he FREAKED. he was like IM SORRY!! FOR TRYING TO HELP!!!! it’s fine no no it’s FINE.#i never asked for help and asked you to stop several times. oh my GOD#and the way men look at you. god. and the expections WOMEN hold to you for no reason???????#like obviously i’ve had awesome experiences moving through society as a women and i love certain things i’ve gotten to be apart of#but overall i think about this shit for five seconds and i get angry#and don’t get me started on fucking cleaning men. are so dumb and useless generally speaking. ESPECIALLY LATINO MEN!!!!!!!!!#machismo is so real especially as part of the culture like FUCK
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Theories of Relativity
Charles Leclerc x Reader
Summary: you don’t need TikTok theories to prove that your relationship is a dream come to life, but it doesn’t hurt when your boyfriend passes all of them with flying colors
The Olive Theory
When you love someone, you have to be willing to make sacrifices and compromises for them (even if those sacrifices are something small like pretending to hate olives just so you can give them to your olive-loving partner instead)
You sit across from Charles at the long dinner table, smiling as he animatedly recounts the race from last weekend. His hands wave through the air, punctuating his story as he describes the final lap battle with Max down to the last corner. You’re only half listening though, too distracted by how handsome he looks in his dinner jacket, his tanned skin glowing in the low light of the restaurant.
As Charles pauses to take a sip of wine, you lean in and whisper, “I wasn’t really watching the race, I only had eyes for you.”
Charles chuckles, his nose crinkling adorably. “Oh really? So you missed all the action then?"
You shrug, trailing a finger down his arm. “What can I say, I find you far more interesting than the other cars going around in circles.”
Charles opens his mouth to respond but is interrupted by a mechanic sitting a little way down from you. “Oi Charles, why do you keep picking all the olives out of your salad?"
You look down, noticing the small pile of olives Charles has stacked onto the edge of his plate.
Charles glances at you, a faint blush rising on his cheeks. “Oh, um, I’m not a huge fan of olives.”
The mechanic frowns in confusion. “But I’ve seen you eat olives before. You always get them on your pizza.”
“I, uh ...” Charles stammers, clearly flustered.
Under the table, you squeeze his hand reassuringly. Charles looks at you and you give him a small nod.
“Well, the truth is,” Charles says, turning back to the mechanic. “I actually love olives. But Y/N loves them even more than I do. So I pick them out of my food to give to her.”
You smile softly at Charles, warmed by his thoughtfulness. The mechanic chuckles and shakes his head. “You two are so cute it’s almost gross.”
Charles just grins and pops an olive into your mouth. “Anything for mon amour.”
You crunch the olive happily, then lean in to give Charles a quick kiss on the lips. “People who say chivalry is dead have simply never met you.”
The conversation moves on, flowing from racing to travel and everything in between. Under the table, your fingers stay intertwined with Charles’ the whole time.
After dinner, you all head outside into the cool night air. Charles’ team members head off towards their own cars, calling out goodbyes.
You snuggle into Charles’ side as you walk towards where his Ferrari is parked. “Thank you for the olives,” you say. “But you really don’t have to deprive yourself on my account.”
Charles wraps his arm around you, pulling you close. “I want to though. I like making you happy.”
You stop next to the car, turning to face him. Running a hand down his chest you say, “You know what would really make me happy right now?"
“Hmm?" Charles murmurs, his eyes drifting down to your lips.
You grin mischievously. “A stop for gelato on the way home.”
Charles laughs and opens the car door for you. “Anything for you, mon cœur.”
The Bird Test
If you say something that could be deemed insignificant and your partner responds with genuine curiosity, that’s a really good sign that your relationship will last a long time
The Brazilian sun beats down as you wander hand-in-hand with Charles along the edges of the Interlagos circuit. It’s the day before qualifying, and Charles brought you out to the track in São Paulo to share the grid walk with you.
You stroll slowly, enjoying a rare private moment together during the hectic race weekend. Charles points out details along the track — the tricky off-camber Turn 3, the sharp left-right complex at Turns 5 and 6, the long full throttle blast down the back straight.
You love seeing him so in his element here, his passion for racing evident in his voice and gestures.
As you round Turn 12, heading down the home straight, a flash of bright blue in the trees catches your eye. Gasping in excitement, you grab Charles’ arm and point.
“Look, a hyacinth macaw!”
Charles follows your gaze to the large, vividly colored parrot perched in the branches. “Wow, that’s amazing! I’ve never seen one outside of a zoo.”
You bounce on your toes, thrilled at the sighting. “Aren’t they gorgeous? That bright blue is unreal. Macaws are pretty rare around here, I can’t believe we spotted one!”
Charles smiles at your obvious delight, then turns back to observe the macaw with curiosity. “What do they eat?" He asks. “Fruit, like other parrots?"
“Yes exactly!” You reply eagerly. “Mostly palm nuts and acai berries. And they need a huge range of territory, something like 80 square kilometers.”
As you chat more facts about the brilliant bird, Charles listens attentively, asking more questions and commenting on its beauty. His genuine interest and engagement makes your heart flutter happily.
Eventually the macaw takes flight, its bright wings flashing blue against the trees as it disappears into the forest.
“Incredible,” Charles murmurs, watching it go. “What an amazing thing to see.”
He turns back to you, eyes shining. “Thank you for pointing it out, I never would have spotted it myself. I love seeing you so excited teaching me about something you’re passionate about.”
You step closer, looping your arms around his neck. “And I love that you always listen and want to know more, even if it’s not about racing.”
Charles wraps his arms around your waist, smiling tenderly. “Of course, your passions are my passions now too. I want to know everything that sparks that beautiful light in your eyes.”
The Orange Peel Theory
A partner’s willingness to perform small acts of service is indicative of a healthy relationship
Early morning sun filters into the kitchen as you sip your coffee, still wearing the oversized Ferrari shirt you slept in. Charles stands at the counter across from you, freshly showered and humming to himself as he browses his phone.
Setting your mug down, you grab an orange from the fruit bowl and start to peel it. Or at least you try. The tough rind puts up a stubborn fight, your nails scraping uselessly against it.
“Ugh, I hate peeling oranges,” you grumble after a minute. “Whose idea was it to make the peel so impossible?"
Charles glances up with a sympathetic smile. “Here, let me.”
He takes the orange from your hands and deftly digs his thumb into the top, effortlessly tearing the peel away in one long curl.
You watch in admiration as he strips the rest of the orange until it’s completely naked and ready to eat.
“Voila,” Charles presents it with a flourish. “One perfectly peeled orange for mon ange.”
“My hero,” you grin. You go to take it from him but Charles playfully keeps it out of reach.
“Ah ah, allow me,” he says. Holding your gaze, he gently pulls apart one glistening segment and brings it to your lips.
Happiness bubbles up in you at this sweet, unexpected gesture. You let Charles pop the orange slice into your mouth, savoring the bright citrus burst.
“Delicious,” you murmur. Charles smiles and leans in to kiss you softly, his thumb brushing a drop of juice from your lower lip.
One by one he continues to peel the segments and feed them to you, interspersing each with tender kisses that taste of orange and love.
You close your eyes blissfully, letting the sensual ritual relax you. Charles takes his time, not rushing. He knows this is your favorite part of the morning, stealing these private moments together before the busy day sweeps you both up.
When the last segment is gone, Charles kisses you again, deeper this time. You loop your arms around his neck, melting against him.
“Have I mentioned how much I love you?” you whisper when you finally separate.
Charles nuzzles your nose with his. “You may have said it once or twice. But I never get tired of hearing it.”
You lean into him contentedly. As always, his thoughtfulness and care warms you from the inside out.
Peeling an orange is such a small act but the meaning behind it speaks volumes. Charles knows your quirks and preferences, and cherishes these little opportunities to make your day brighter.
The little things that mean everything.
You’re still musing dreamily about this when Charles tips your chin up. “Where’d you go just now?” He asks with a curious smile.
You shake your head, focusing back on him. “Just thinking about us. And how perfectly you peel my oranges.”
Charles laughs. “Well I’m glad to be of service. I know how you hate getting orange string stuck under your nails.”
He kisses your fingertips one by one. “Can’t have anything marring these beautiful hands.”
You scrunch your nose at him. “Oh yes, I need to keep my hands soft and dainty in case a prince comes along to propose.”
Charles squawks in protest and tackles you against the counter, fingers digging into your sides to tickle you mercilessly. You dissolve into helpless giggles, swatting him away.
“No no, stop! I take it back!” You gasp.
Charles relents, holding you close and nuzzling into your hair. “Too late, you’re stuck with me now,” he murmurs, kissing your temple.
You snuggle into him contentedly. No fantasy prince could ever compete with the reality of Charles.
The Invisible String Theory
An invisible string connects those who are destined to meet, regardless of time, place, or circumstance (the string may stretch or tangle but it will never break)
The living room is filled with laughter and happy chatter as you and Charles sit surrounded by both your families. Your wedding is only two days away, and his mother suggested gathering everyone together one night for reminiscing and quality time.
Looking through old photo albums is proving to be hilarious and heartwarming. Baby pictures, school plays, family vacations — memories preserved to embroider the story of your lives before fate brought you together.
Charles smiles wistfully as Lorenzo shows an album from their childhood. “I wish my godfather and father could have met you,” he says softly. “They would have loved you so much.”
You take his hand, leaning your head on his shoulder. His lost loved ones are always close to his heart.
Your mother passes an album to you with a smile. “Oh this one is from our trip to France when you were five! So many cute little Y/N photos.”
You roll your eyes but obligingly open the album, Charles peering over your shoulder. You flip through pictures of your younger self building sandcastles on the beach, wearing a hilariously large sun hat, beaming gappily with missing front teeth.
Charles grins down at you. “Adorable. I can’t wait for our kids to-”
He stops abruptly, staring down at the page. You follow his gaze to a photo of your family in Nice, taken in front of the Le Negresco hotel. And there in the background, almost out of frame — four familiar figures walking down the promenade.
A young Charles holds the hand of a teenage boy you immediately recognize as Jules. On Charles’ other side, his father Hervé carries a toddler Arthur.
Your breath catches sharply. The families fall silent around you. Charles’ fingers tremble slightly as they trace over the image.
“Of course we went to Nice often,” he whispers. “I had no idea ...” His voice trails off, thick with emotion.
Arthur cranes his head to see. “Is that us? With Papa and Jules?" He looks between you and Charles with wide eyes.
“Almost twenty years ago,” Lorenzo marvels. “And your paths were already crossing.”
Pascale wipes at her eyes, grasping Charles’ other hand tightly. “It was meant to be. Some invisible string tying you together even then.”
Charles’ fingers tremble as they trace over the image. For one brief, impossible moment, it feels like you’re all together — you, Charles, Jules, Hervé. Preserved in time, intersecting at the crossroads of past and future.
Though you never met in life, somehow you were all bound in that instant, tied by invisible strings of destiny. Strings that would one day guide you and Charles to each other.
It’s only a photo, yet looking at it you feel Jules and Hervé’s presence like a bittersweet embrace. As if across the years, they’re saying we know you. We love you. We’re so happy for you both.
You stare down at it, this captured moment of impossible synchronicity. A glimpse of the thread that wove itself silently through your lives until the day it finally drew you together.
Charles meets your eyes, his own shimmering with tears. Without words, you know he feels it too. The impossible link stretching back through time. Proof you were always meant to find each other.
He pulls you close, kissing the top of your head. “I believe that with all my heart, we’ve always been connected somehow.”
“Soulmates,” you whisper.
You cling to him, overwhelmed with certainty. Through accidents of time and geography, missteps and milestones, your story was always guiding you here.
Meant for each other. Destined, even then.
#f1 imagine#f1#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 fanfiction#f1 x reader#f1 x you#charles leclerc#cl16#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc fic#charles leclerc fluff#charles leclerc fanfic#charles leclerc blurb#f1 fluff#f1 blurb#f1 one shot#f1 x y/n#f1 drabble#f1 fandom#f1blr#f1 x female reader#charles leclerc x female reader#charles leclerc x y/n#scuderia ferrari#charles leclerc one shot#charles leclerc drabble
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marriage pact
summary: besties that plan to get married
warnings: smut, mdni, dry humping, idrk what else I should put here so message me and lmk, steve's happy trail, slutty steve, big dick steve
pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader
A/n: This started off as one thing then it manifested into something else, and this is 4k words of idk and there MIGHT be a part 2
update here is part 2
****
Steve loved your slumber parties that had carried over from your childhood. Initially the two of you would binge watch movies, while his parents were who knows where. Up until you were about twelve he slept in the bed with you until one day your parents decided that he couldn’t do that anymore and gave him his own room for when he stayed over.
Your family was well off due to your father being in business with his and it was probably no big deal for them, but Steve appreciated it nevertheless. He felt so loved in your home, so he made it his second. He was there at least three nights a week, until the two of you got into highschool and his dad wanted him to get serious about basketball. Then it was late night practices and meeting up with girls. He still came around at least once a week for dinners, but usually he was busy.
You were surprised when he didn’t go away for college. Even more so when he decided to get his own job and start at the community college in Hawkins instead of living off his parents. Eventually he was back to being at your house all the time, until one day your mom randomly asked him to move in, suggesting that he was there all the time anyway. Which he agreed to with speed. So, now your slumber parties were more frequent, and more fun now that you were adults and your mom took away the rule that Steve couldn’t stay in your room.
Now your slumber parties included the two of you gossiping for hours on end about who was pregnant, talking through movies, and newly you doing Steve’s skincare. At first he tried to pretend that he didn’t like it, until one day you decided you didn’t feel like it and he begged you to do it anyway.
“Close your eyes.” You say from your position on his stomach, your thighs fitting snug on each side of him. One of his hands resting on each one. You didn’t need to be sitting on him of course, but Steve claimed it would be easier on your back if he were laying down (which was not true) but you went along with it because it was Steve.
“So bossy.” He murmurs but closes his eyes nonetheless, his fingers messing with the hem of your shorts. You hum in acknowledgement not really able to focus on the task at hand.
“Is this new?” Steve asks, referring to the cool goopy substance that you were putting on his face.
“Yeah, I’m testing it on you before I put it on my face.” You say jokingly. But not really, considering that's what you were actually doing.
The snort Steve lets out brings a smile to your face. “Well, I’ve been your test dummy since we were kids so I’m not surprised.”
“Glad that you finally accepted the dynamic of this friendship. Now stop talking.” He huffs at the command but still listens anyway, a small smile resting on his face,that you could never ask him to wipe away. Your brain short circuits a bit when he pulls his hand back to the center of your thigh, his thumb continuously rubbing over the smooth skin. You couldn’t help but wonder when that got added to the dynamic of your friendship.
“Now sit with that for ten minutes.” You could see him getting ready to protest so you quickly added, “and be still!” You know he’s gonna bitch about it when you go to take the mask off. He hates sitting still more than anything but he could deal for ten minutes.
When he feels the pressure from your body weight pressing into his stomach start to lighten, his hands finding your waist even with his eyes closed.
“Steve.” You huff, knowing he’s not going to let you move until he can, but it’s not like you actually put up a fight. Not like you actually wanted to be away from his warmth. So you stayed simply sitting on him for ten minutes. Watching him, thinking about how he was still so pretty even with the mask on his face.
When it was time for you to take it off. You almost didn’t want to, but you did , pleased to see that the product left him glowing.
Steve finally opened his eyes after almost falling asleep when he heard you sigh sweetly. “All done?” He asks hoping that you weren’t even though he’d been laying there for about thirty minutes.
“Yep.” You say until you remember the little gift you picked up for him at the store. “Wait one more thing.” Steve lets you get off him this time, a little hesitant but you don’t point it out.
When you come back with what looked like a broken whisk, Steve was a little reluctant. “I think this is where my test dummy days end.” You roll your eyes at his dramatics sliding back to your spot on his stomach.
“You’ll like it.” You tell him. Despite the growing anticipation about whatever the device was, Steve is quick to accept you and it into his space, his hands on your hips to steady you as you sit down.
“I doubt- fuckkk.” Steve moans raggedly, cutting himself off and surprising you, making you stop your movements with the hair massager. You catch your composure quickly though, continuing to massage his scalp.
“So dramatic.” You try to tease, to lighten the heavy feeling in the pit of your stomach. You knew Steve had a thing for getting his hair pulled. He hooked up with half the girls in your class, so his likes and dislikes tended to get around and made for some pretty interesting lunch room conversations.
You didn’t realize a scalp massage would elicit the same reaction. You also didn’t realize that his reaction would have an effect on you. His whole body seemed to glitch. HIs eyes are barely able to stay open and the grip on your hips tightening.
Once his initial dramatics calmed down, he began letting out soft appreciative sighs. His grip on you fades to soft circles on your thighs.
“I’m gonna marry you.” He tells you, with his eyes closed. You knew he meant it. He told you that he wanted to marry you one day in high school. He’d been drunk but he let you all the way in on his plan to make a life with you, one day when you’re both ready.
He told you how he thought about building a house for you, and having your last name be harrington and how he wanted to have a bunch of kids with you. You thought he’d been joking teasing him about it the next day, but he simply smiled at you with a blush forming on his cheeks telling you that he meant it.
Ever since then, every couple of months he’d say it again. Like he was reminding you, or really asking you to wait for him. Which you did. Neither of you had made much of a move or anything and sometimes one of you would date someone else, but in the back of your mind you would always remember that you were marrying Steve and that’s just the way it was.
“Mhmm.” You hum, simply acknowledging like usual. To your surprise Steve's eyes open and he zeroes in on your face.
“I’m serious.” He’d never done this before, made more room for conversation about it. He seemed like he wanted more than gentle acknowledgment.
“I know.” You say, pretending to busy yourself as you set the massager to the side, just to get away from the intense way he’s looking at you. When he sits up on the headboard you know he means business. You never guessed now would be the time you finally actually talked about it.
“Do you really?” He asks. Steve didn’t know if you knew how serious he was.
“Yeah.. we’re getting married.” You tell him, fidgeting with one of his hands in your, absently looking at his nails instead of him. “You’re gonna build me a two story house, two streets away from my moms. In that field we used to play in. And we’re gonna have six babies and I will not let you help me name any of them because I already have a list.” You catch a quick glimpse of his face. “I remember.” You tell him.
You expect him to let it go now that you’ve rehashed the entire plan he layed out for you years ago. You don’t remember when you got so attached to the idea. Or when you started contributing your own dreams to the plan but it had grown for you and speaking it out loud you realized how badly you needed it to happen.
“You have a list?” Steve’s chest was warm as it dawned on him that you wanted a future with him the same way he did with you.
Your face warmed, embarrassed thinking that he would tease you. “Yes. They’re all non negotiable.”
“Can I see it?” He asks, his voice soft. “Please, honey.” Honey. This is no longer best friend Steve. This is future husband Steve, making his first ever appearance.
When you shake your head with a shy smile, Steve can’t help but smile back.”Why not?” He asks you in that same soft voice that had you feeling gooey on the inside.
“Stop using that voice.” You whisper, feeling flushed. Steve couldn’t help but chuckle. He’d never known you to be shy, but here you were being all bossy while hiding your face in his neck.
“You’re so perfect.” He’s teasing you, trying to see how embarrassed you’ll get. He also means every bit. “Prettiest girl in the world.”
“You’re bein’ weird.” You tell him unsure what to do with yourself with all these changes being made so quickly.
“It was weird not telling you how beautiful you are everyday.” You don’t expect him to keep listing. “So sweet, too.” He adds. “Always taking care of me and never letting me praise you for it. I can’t wait to take care of you.” The implications of that do not go over your head. “Bet you’ll be such a good little wife.”
Steve expects you to make some little quip or try to play off how embarrassed you feel. He’s expecting you to descelate how quickly he’s moving. But instead your voice whispers “I hope so.” You’re right in his ear too, so he knows he isn’t mistaken and he knows that this is the last night you’ll ever consider yourself just friends.
*****
Steve should have kissed you last night. He can’t help but think about that over and over, as he realizes he didn’t seal the deal. He should have done something to prove to you how serious he was.
But it was too late because he didn’t kiss you and the morning had been decidedly awkward when you realized you didn’t know what any of that meant for your immediate friendship. Because initially the plan had been to wait. Was the wait over? Did you want it to be over? You spent the majority of your day trying not to think about it. Steve however wouldn’t shut up about it. Sadly for Robin she had to be on the receiving end of this conversation.
“Robin, this is serious. What if I fucked everything up? What if she thinks I’m leading her on?” Steve runs a hand through his hair, seemingly deep in thought.
“I doubt that. I mean you’re planning on marrying her- which I take offense to not knowing about this little pact or whatever,” she adds. “But that’s like the total opposite of leading on.” She tries to reassure wanting to really get Steve to shut up about it.
“No you don’t get it-” Steve starts again, only to be interrupted.
“Ughhhh!! How can I not get it if this is your sixth time going over it? Steve, I get it! You’re overthinking this when it’s really simple.” Robin gestures. “You love her and you want to get married and blah blah blah, but before you guys get married how about you try to, I don’t know actually date?” She says sarcastically. “Unless you were just going to propose after a thousand years of sleepovers and dating other people.” She adds.
And although it was unnecessarily sassy, Steve realized that Robin might have a point. “So I should ask her out?” He tries to clarify much to Robin’s dismay. Luckily for her the door opening saved her from another round of easily answered questions. And even more lucky for her it was you and not an actual customer.
“Hey what are you-” Steve was cut off by you taking his hand and dragging him to where you knew the break room was after bringing him lunch on multiple occasions. You had tried and failed to not think about this whole situation.
The one thing that had been bothering you the most is how long it was taking. You realized it was because you let Steve call the shots, and you quickly remembered why you never let Steve call the shots. Steve took too long to make decisions and well you knew what you wanted. So you had always been the leader in your friendship, deciding what movies you’d watch, what games you’d play, the parties you would go to. Everything really. You could do that here too, you realized.
When you close the door behind you Steve is looking at you expectantly. He’s half thinking that you’re gonna cuss him out, so he doesn’t expect it when you grab him by his shirt to kiss him. You’re all over him for about five seconds. Your scent. Your taste. Your skin. Your hair. Then you’re gone. Patting his shirt back in place, shakily. You’re nervous. Steve realizes.
“Okay that was all-” Steve’s pulling you back to him before you can run off. Letting his lips capture yours just the way he’d dreamed of. Feeling you relax into him as he cradles your face.
“So sweet.” He murmurs against your lips. He finds it amusing how the words send you back into your shyness from last night. The way you went from determined to timid and unable to even look at him properly. Steve was curious about this side of you. You were never this easily flustered.
“When did you get so shy?” He asks and you know he’s taunting you. He’s still holding you close to him, his fingers messing with the ends of your hair as he tries to find any reason to keep touching you.
“M’not.” You oppose half-heartedly. He lets out a gentle sound of acknowledgment, obviously ignoring you, and knowing he would press all those buttons later. Privately.
“You’re so beautiful.” You think he’s still teasing you and you hate that it's working when you feel your face heat up and you’re hiding it in his chest. Steve really means it though, it was the first thought that came to his head when he saw you walking through the door. Your hair free and your face without makeup. A skirt that your mom would deem a few inches too short and a shirt that he’s seen a million times because you love it so much.
Gathering your courage, you finally look at him. His kiss swollen lips are the first thing that grabs your attention the second is the way he’s looking at you. Like he’s waiting on you to call the next shot.
“Will Robin be okay, if we go to your car?” The next few moments are a blur because now he’s the one dragging you out of the breakroom, pausing only long enough for Steve to beg Robin to cover for him. Which she agreed to with a poorly concealed smirk on her face.
You were expecting Steve to open the back door and usher you inside. Instead he opens the driver side and pats his lap expectantly, after moving his seat all the way back. When you hesitate he’s grabbing you by your thighs and maneuvering you to where he wants you. “What if someone sees us?” You ask, knowing how fast information like this whipped around town.
“Nobody parks on this side, honey.” Steve tells you those big puppy dog eyes staring into you. And because he’s Steve, and he’s calling you honey, and you trust him more than anyone you know, you believe him.
“Okay.” Is all you say before your lips are back on Steve’s. It was a sweet kiss really, and Steve tried to let you control it for a while, until you were trying to back away from him again. With his experienced lips working over yours, you’re so consumed you barely realize the way you’re grinding yourself over his lap. Well not until his hands are on your ass, pushing your skirt up and controlling your once sloppy movement.
“There you go, sweetheart.” He says breathlessly, when he finally comes up for air. His lips find purchase against your neck. He kisses his way up the slope of it, relishing in the sound of your little gasps, until one particular spot sends a shudder down your spine. He sucks that spot.
Absent-mindedly, your hands find their way off his shoulders and into his hair, barely thinking about it twice before you rake your nails across his scalp softly. The soft hum he lets out gives you indication that you should continue. Your hands stay in his hair for a bit, and you’re too nervous to actually pull it, but it does get you thinking about the other places on his body he has hair. Namely his happy trail. It sat perfectly right in between his abs and you usually had to avoid looking for your own sake.
You’re yanking his shirt out of his jeans before you give it much more thought. And even though you’re too busy humping Steve to get a good look, feeling it against your bare hands has you whimpering.
“Stevie-” You’re cut off by your own moan as your clit catches perfectly against Steve’s zipper. It doesn’t get past Steve that you sound so fucked out. Your tone bordering on a whine, clearly frustrated.
“Look at you.” Steve coos. “Doin’ such a good job for me, sweet girl.” Pressing a light kiss to your lips. Steve couldn’t help watching you chase your own pleasure, shivering at his praise.. Your eyes pinched shut, but your hands are all over him like you know every part of his body.
“Can you open your eyes for me?” He asks with his hands pushing your hair out your face. When you do, he admires how dazed you look. How you probably barely remember your own name. “There she is.” Steve knew he was about two seconds from coming in his pants. He was also aware of the fact that once you were done with him he’d have to go back inside to finish working his shift.
“Stevie” You start again, “M’so close. Feels so good.” You tell him, your movements becoming frantic causing your boobs to sway deliciously. You don’t register your top being pulled down, until you feel Steve licking at your nipple.
A hungry groan rising from the back of his throat. “Perfect fucking tits.” His hands leave your ass, leaving the pace to you. He pinches your right nipple between his thumb and forefinger, rolling it to test your reaction. When you lurch into him. Humping him harder than before, he knows he’s a goner. But you are first. Your orgasm hits you so fast, it surprises you with tears springing to your eyes at the intensity.
Steve’s a close second behind you, leaving the two of you panting and trying to catch your breath. As soon as Steve recovers he’s tending to you, pulling your top back in place, trying to see how you felt.
He can’t help but admire that after that you went right back to your embarrassed state, obviously self conscious. “You’re perfect.” He tells you again, pressing another light kiss to your lips. When you grin at him, his heart beats fast and he can’t help but be happy at the line the two of you just crossed.
“You too.” You say, your head is still a bit fuzzy as you check the damage. You’re about to launch into an apology about the obvious wet spot on Steve jeans but he beats you to it. “Stop worrying.” He’d been watching the spot form as time went on and kept willing it to get bigger. Liked that you were making a mess all over him and yourself too.
“You have to go back to work.” You state, guiltily.
“I have an extra pair of pants in the backseat, sweetheart. We’re all good.” You’re relieved for a number of reasons, climbing off him into the passenger seat. You don’t know what you were expecting but you realized it wasn’t him yanking his pants off, revealing his now cum stained gray boxers. And you certainly weren’t expecting him to drag the boxers off as well, which revealed his huge fucking dick. The tip is now sloppy and slightly red, and you can tell it isn’t as hard as it was.
“Oh fuck.” You say barely recognizing your own voice. Only to repeat yourself when he uses his sullied boxers to wipe the rest of the cum off, watching it twitch from the stimulation.
“He doesn’t like to be stared at, ya know.” Steve teases you, reaching back for his jeans.
Your eyes keep flickering back to his face and back to his dick, and you know there’s no way he’s been carrying that around for the entirety of your friendship and you simply had no idea.
“Steve.” You say dumbfounded. No words available to express your shock, as he pulled his pants on to cover himself.
“No more ‘Stevie’?” He asks, mocking you. The smile on his face tells you he’s just messing with you but you can’t help your cheeks going up in flames.
“You’re the worst.” You huff, but you’re still smiling despite your embarrassment.
“Mhm.” He’s reaching over the console to kiss you again, this time sweet and chaste.
“Don’t worry, I’ll stretch you open for me, before I fuck you, sweetheart.” You gasp feeling his hand on the band of your underwear.
“Lift up for me.” You do, allowing him to pull the drenched fabric off of you, you hide your face in your hands when he lifts it to his face to sniff. You were quickly coming to the realization that your best friend was dirtier than you ever realized, even with all the gossip that got back to you.
You feel yourself manage to flush even further when he murmurs to himself “sweetest fucking girl” he stuffing them in his pocket in the next second, then reaching back over for you when his phone lights up.
Robin’s name lighting up the screen. He huffs a little as he reads the text and you know she’s getting snappy.
“Come on, let's go before Robin kills you.” There’s no use in asking for your underwear back so you just pull your skirt down as far as it will go before stepping out the car, trying to ignore the slickness of your thighs. After Steve walks you to your car, he presses a kiss to your forehead, stating that you’ll talk later.
When he walks back into Family Video he looks disheveled, a completely new pair of pants, his shirt no longer tucked and wrinkled, but Robin is relieved to know that she won’t have to answer anymore stupid questions from him.So she leaves him be for the moment, but he definitely owes her big time.
#steve harrington smut#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington#smut#fantasylandloserfic
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#he held me and petted me#and kissed all over my entire body#pulled the hair tie from my hair and had it wrapped around his fingers while we talked after we were done#I can’t stop thinking about it#he said ‘if this goes well- the inevitable question will be why aren’t you just with me instead of him. eventually#the intimacy level… I literally don’t know if I’ve ever felt that level of intimacy#just holding a person and I can tell they’re comfortable being held. and they want to hold me#it was this incredibly beautiful moment#I didn’t want it to end#I didn’t want to come home to K#I wanted to feel that feeling for much longer#literally forever#and he never picked up his phone#and he listened when I spoke. like he cared what I had to say. like I’m interesting and worthwhile.#and like. the sex was good but we just fit together. when he would move me- he was strong. when he grabbed me it was so passionate.#he told me to stay there and we’d keep having sex. order food. lay in bed.#I really wanted to#he said ‘I won’t long for you tomorrow. just until I see you again.’#I don’t want my life. I imagine myself as someone else all the time. and the person I imagine myself as- I experienced last night with him.#this has been a complete info dump#I’m glad this is my space no one knows about. where I can speak freely and openly.#I would also like to revise my earlier statement. the sex was great. just so raw and passionate. it was a very unique experience for me
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Enjoy the Silence
You trespass into Joel’s house in search of some peace and quiet so you can get yourself off. Joel catches you in his bed in a compromising position. (5.2k)
That’s Pedro’s bum can you tell I love ass
Tags- pillow humping, masturbation, getting caught in the act, some humiliation but Joel talks you through it, oral (f receiving), unprotected piv, prone bone, softdom Joel, little bit of crying (good tears) creampie, let me know if there’s something I missed.
A/N- Thank you to @tightjeansjavi , @notjustjavierpena , and @noxturnalpascal for all of your encouragement on this I know I’m not easy to deal with sometimes AND thank you my dear readers for being patient with me, I’ve been slacking on writing/uploading. I’d love it if you’d say hi to me, I’ve been missing you!! Hope you enjoy this one I’m glad to be back❤️🩷💜💙🩵
It’s too fucking loud tonight. You live with a group of single women in Jackson, all somewhere around your age, a few older, a few younger. You get along well with them, and they get along well with each other. Too well, perhaps. They’ve been talking for hours tonight. Hours. And they talk for hours most other nights too, especially now that the weather is starting to warm up. They’ve been making drinks and playing music, being rowdy. It’s past eleven at this point and they’re still going at it.
You can’t sleep. The blankets are too warm, but without them you’re cold. You’ve flipped your pillow over what feels like hundreds of times. It’s just one of those nights. Except every night is one of those nights, it seems. You tried touching yourself to fall asleep easier, but with no success. It’s not exactly the easiest getting off in such a full house. You’ve got privacy in your bedroom, sure. But the walls are thin and sound carries with such ease.
God, does this suck. A lot of your problems would be solved if you could just get yourself off. You sit up in bed and stare out your window and into the window of the house next to yours. Joel’s window. His lights are off now, but earlier you had caught a glimpse of him getting out of his bathroom. His hair was wet and slicked back, his skin shiny and damp. He’s so sexy, so thick. That’s when you moved your hand between your thighs as you watched him pick out clothes from his dresser, biting your lip and circling your clit frantically as you prayed for his towel to drop. It didn’t. It never does. You groaned quietly in disappointment as you watched Joel walk back to his bathroom and then come out moments later fully dressed, subsequently shutting off his lights and leaving his bedroom. For a moment, with your eyes and your thoughts focused on Joel, you were able to block out all the noise and focus on your pleasure. But then he left and the pleasure vanished.
You’ve lived next to Joel for quite a while now. More often than not he’s grumpy, keeping mostly to himself and Ellie. He’d usually just glare at you and your roommates. He can be friendly with others, though.
Once one evening, Joel had spent five minutes knocking at your door to complain about the noise. You saw it coming, you and your roommates had amassed quite a few dirty looks from him in the moments prior. You watched him through the window, glaring at your porch from his own. Your roommates were outside, talking and listening to an old but new-to-you CD. He wore a scowl and his arms were crossed at his chest when you finally opened the door.
“You ladies are chatty,” he grumbled. “Your music’s hurtin’ my ears.”
“We can be chatty, yeah,” you replied, “But you’re kinda crotchety.”
Joel sighed and rolled his eyes. “I’m askin’ you politely to keep it down,” He turned to leave then, but you tapped the back of his leg with your foot, stopping him, “You could go inside, you know,” you taunted.
Joel turned back around slowly. He looked so big, so broad as he looked down at you. “So could you.”
“Hm,” you hummed. You weren’t really sure why you were arguing with Joel when really, you agreed with him. The CD player sounds tinny and hurts your own ears at times, you can’t imagine what it does to Joel’s damaged ears. And the girls were too loud, other people live around here. But you were annoyed at the way he came over to complain about the noise level when he doesn’t know half of it, how loud it gets. “Fine. I’ll get them to quiet down if you do something for me.”
Joel raised his eyebrows, “Oh, I’m doin’ ya favors now?”
“Something like that,” you said.
“What do you want?” he asked through a sigh.
“You’re right, they’re being too loud,” you explained, “You don’t know how loud it can be, actually. I’ll try to get them to quiet down if you let me get some peace and quiet.”
“How’s that?”
“Well, your house is usually pretty quiet,” you began.
Joel nodded. “Mhm. And I like it that way.”
“And I’ll keep it that way,” you urged. “Please? My roommates are so loud, I can’t even hear myself–”
“Yeah, I know. Come on,” Joel interrupted. “Let’s go inside, then. Talk to your girls tomorrow.”
Joel led you to his house, opened the door for you and brought you inside. He offered you a glass of water and told you to make yourself at home, so you sat quietly on his sofa. Joel sat on the loveseat next to you. He figured you’d have brought a book or something to busy yourself with, but when he looked up at you after a few moments, you had curled your legs into your chest, laying sideways on his couch. He laughed to himself quietly and laid a blanket over your body, then turned out the lights and went upstairs to bed. You had never slept so peacefully. And that’s how the tradition began, Joel would let you come over to enjoy the quietness of his home. You never made good on his end of the deal, though. Your roommates stayed too loud, but it didn’t matter. You and Joel had found a system that worked for you both.
Still staring at Joel’s window, you shift your attention towards the direction of Joel’s front door when you hear it slam shut. You watch him stroll away, probably off to drink with Tommy or something like that.
Your core is still aching, a dull but constant ache. You’re thinking about Joel, unable to get the image of his slick body out of your mind. You’re thinking of the quietness of his house. Peace and quiet would be nice right about now. It’s never this late when you go over to Joel’s. You know you’re welcome over any time. Joel gave you a key to his home when you earned that privilege. But surely he didn’t have that open-door policy for what you’re thinking of using his quiet home for. He wouldn’t know though, right?
Fuck it, you decide, climbing out of your bed and sliding on a pair of slippers. First grabbing Joel’s key from your nightstand, you exit your room and go down the stairs, going towards the back door where you walk past all of your roommates in the living room who don’t seem bothered or worried about what you’re up to this late at night. The chill of the air bites at your cheeks and your shoulders. You didn’t bring a jacket, but the distance from your back door to Joel’s isn’t a long one.
You unlock his back door with your key and let yourself inside, scraping any dirt from your slippers on his doormat so as not to track it inside. It’s always quiet, but the silence is almost eerie. It makes you feel uneasy, doubly so because you know you’re doing something you shouldn’t be. But you’ll be quick. Joel won’t know, so no harm no foul.
You scan the first floor, looking for a quiet, comfortable area. Joel’s home looks almost like TV in black and white the way it’s so dark right now. The first floor is no good, you’ll feel exposed. So you walk up his stairs, and your first instinct is to go to his guest room. You spend a lot of time there anyway, when you’re not napping on his couch you’re napping in that room. But he keeps it clean for you, pristine. The bed is made neatly and tailored specifically to his taste. You’d never be able to recreate that, he’d instantly become suspicious.
Across the hall is his own bedroom, not nearly as tidy as his guest room. A clothes pile on a chair, the shade of his lamp slightly off kilter. His bed is made up of crumpled sheets and blankets, the pillows indented from the weight of his head. Joel won’t know a thing.
You tiptoe into his room, closing his door but the creak of its hinge cuts through the quiet air and startles you. Maybe it’s better to leave it untouched. You make your way quietly to his bed, first sitting on the edge, your feet dangling slightly in the air. You kick your feet a little, letting your slippers fall off. You feel so out of place here, so wrong. Like you’re invading his privacy, but you’re not. Not really. You’re not here to snoop or to do anything wrong, you’re just here to…well.
You lie back in his bed, his sheets are soft and worn, cold on the back of your legs. Their scent fills your nostrils, they smell like Joel. Like soap and his musk, slightly sweaty. It’s almost like he’s here with you. Spreading your legs and dipping your hand beneath your pajama bottoms, your mind starts to wander. Tracing your clit with your fingers, your brain is flooded with flashes of Joel. At first, it’s images of his neck, his forearms, his hands, all the veins protruding, muscles flexing. You’re circling your clit faster as you imagine he’s here with you, that it’s not his bed you’re lying against but instead his chest, he’s holding your knees apart as he nudges your head to the side with his nose, your neck exposed for him to lick and kiss and nip as you tease your cunt. You come quickly and your fantasy drifts from you. You make yourself come once more before you adjust the bedsheets slightly, put your slippers on and leave. Joel’s bedroom looks just as he left it.
You watched him, learned his evening schedule. On Tuesdays and Thursdays he’s out on evening patrol, he doesn’t come home until the early morning. Those are the nights you sneak over to his house. As time goes on, you learn that you can be less careful. You don’t bother wiping your shoes, you don’t tiptoe like you used to. You’ll push the bedroom door open wide when Joel leaves it halfway shut. When you leave, you don’t bother laying the sheets back in the way Joel has them crumpled.
Joel notices.
You still come over for your usual quiet time, and Joel studies you. He’s begun sitting close to you, trying to memorize the smell of your shampoo on your hair. He thinks he smells it on his pillow. And the scent of your body, your soap and your perfume. He thinks he can smell it on his sheets. He thinks he can smell you on his sheets.
You stay too long in his bed one Thursday night, startled when you hear Joel’s heavy footsteps in the distance. You bolt out of his bed, going down his stairs both as quickly and as quietly as you can. You shouldn’t have been so ballsy. Joel thinks he hears the door close but doesn’t pay it much mind as he undresses and gets into bed, and he doesn’t even notice you running back to your house from his window. What he does notice, however, is the way his bed feels warm as he lays down. He runs his hand along the length of his bed, the sheets feel cool on the opposite side. When he flips on his side, his nose nudges against something damp on his pillow. That’s when he sees your light flickering on from across the distance between your two windows, he sits up in bed to get a closer look at you. He watches your chest heaving like you’re out of breath, perhaps from sprinting across his lawn. He watches you then fall on your bed, he sees both of your knees hike up and spread apart. That’s when he puts two and two together. Suspicions confirmed.
He always knew you were trouble. And now he knows what you’ve been up to, trespassing to touch yourself in his home, in his bed, without him. You goddamn deviant. He’s gonna catch you in the act.
-
Four whole days go by, which gives Joel enough time to find someone to cover his evening patrol. It’s Tuesday night and he’s got his bedroom lights off so you can’t see him watching you from his window. You look antsy, pacing back and forth across your room, frequently checking your window to see if he’s left yet. When Joel does leave his home, he’s conscious to not look behind himself at your window, to see if your light turns off. He doesn’t want you to know that he knows. He doesn’t look to see if you’re sneaking through his lawn. Instead, he keeps walking, giving you ample time to really screw yourself. When he feels a sufficient amount of time has passed, he turns back around and walks home. He enters his front door slowly and quietly, like a ghost. He takes careful steps through his living room, up his stairs. When he reaches his room, he pushes the door open wider and leans against the frame, listening to your breathy moans, watching you grind on his pillow in the low light of his room. You’re gripping his headboard as you whine, you’re even wearing one of his dirty flannels. Sick puppy.
“Joel,” you moan to yourself. “Joel, oh god–” the lights turn on and you turn your head to see Joel leaning against the door frame, his arms crossed.
“Joel!”
“Yeah, I know,” Joel murmurs. “Caughtcha, didn’t I?” Any words you could possibly think of are caught in your throat. You feel hot, itchy. Joel notices the key he gave you sitting on his dresser and spins it around his finger. “Wasn’t what I had in mind when we set up our little arrangement.”
“I was– I wasn’t–” you shift uncomfortably as Joel puts the key down.
He shuts his door and approaches you on his bed, first examining his headboard. He hums when he sees there’s little indents in the wood from your fingernails, marks on the wall behind the headboard. It all makes sense now. When Joel sits next to you on his bed, you quickly slide your ass off of his pillow and away from him. He’s quicker, tugging your– his flannel in the opposite direction, forcing you back to your place. “Nuh-uh,” he chides. “You stay right there.”
The air feels thick and Joel’s eyes are dark, almost inky black. You can hardly look at him, his intense gaze making you squirm. So instead you look down, where he plays with the fabric of his flannel, admiring the way it dances on your thighs with his touch. He lets a silence hang heavily between you both as he presses his lips in a thin line, waiting for you to explain yourself. You don’t. You can’t. You feel so exposed, so ashamed of yourself.
“Whatcha been doin’ to my pillow?” he finally asks. His voice is low, quiet and deep. He’s met with more silence. “Makin’ a mess, s’what. Up to no good, hm?” More silence as you adjust his flannel over your body, protecting your modesty. “I’m askin’ you a question,” he takes your chin gently between his thumb and forefinger, forcing eye contact.
“Yeah,” your voice is hardly above a whisper. Your face is hot, your waterline is brimmed thick with tears, a few spilling over. “I’m sorry, Joel.”
“Ohhh, I know,” Joel coos, wiping the tears from your cheek with his thumb. “M’not tryin’ to embarrass ya, darlin’. S’human nature.” You can’t even begin to think of a way to get out of this situation. “S’that pillow ‘sposed to be me?”
“Yes.”
“Figures,” Joel mumbles. “Makin’ me blush,” he taunts, tracing lazy patterns on your thigh. His touch makes your tummy flutter, it feels misleading. Like you’re enjoying it almost, though you shouldn’t be. “All you had to do was ask, sweetheart,” he says. “Didn’t need to make believe with my pillow. Get yourself into all this trouble.” You can’t quite get a read on what his angle is here. Still aroused and you feel nervous, small, guilty – awaiting punishment of some sort.
You’re defeated. All you can do is nod in understanding. You find the bravery to meet his eyes, his gaze still dark and intense, perhaps even hungry. He walks his fingers up the length of your thigh, noticing how you twitch as he nears your center. “I’ll go easy on ya f’ya tell me the truth. How long you been doin’ this, sweetheart?”
You are in trouble. He’ll go easy on you if you tell him the truth. “I dunno,” you whisper.
“Sure you do.”
You don’t even know. A few weeks, a month maybe. You shrug.
“Think you wanna be honest with me,” Joel advises, provoking you slightly. Nothing from you. “S’alright. You don’t have to tell me. Just means you’re gonna finish the job.”
“What?”
“You’re gonna finish what you started,” he says. “And this time I’m gonna stay right here and watch.”
Your heart drops. You search Joel’s eyes, looking for some sort of indication that he’s fucking with you. You’re not sure that you’re capable of this. Sex and masturbation are already two different animals. Getting off in front of the man you fantasize about in his bed? Where would you even begin?
“You had the balls to start this, you’re gonna finish it. Come on sweetheart, show me how you do it,” Joel nods, gesturing for you to begin. When you don’t, Joel scoots even closer to you on the bed. “So shy, aren’t you?” He turns his body toward you slightly, outstretching an arm across your body and then holds your hip in his strong hand. He begins to guide your movement, encouraging you to rock back and forth on his pillow. But you’re stiff in his hold. “Come on now,” he encourages, “Y’can even hold my hand f’ya want.”
Joel holds his free hand out to you, still moving your hip with the other. He knows how vulnerable and exposed you feel right now. Taking his hand, your other gripping the headboard once more, you still can’t meet his eyes, Instead you squeeze them shut, your hips following the guidance of his grip.
“Why you bein’ quiet?” he asks, “Need to hear ya.”
Complying with his request, you let out a shaky and small moan. More of a whisper, really. He hums in approval, encouraging you to be louder. You’re starting to build a pace and find your courage, at least a little.
When you let out a real moan, a real sound of pleasure, Joel squeezes your hip. “Ohh, there it is. Good girl,” he coos, “Good fuckin’ girl.”
It’s instantaneous, the way his praise goes right to your core. You’re rocking your hips faster now, adjusting yourself to find a better angle. You can feel your own slick beneath you on the fabric of Joel’s pillow, wetting your thighs and your ass. His hand grips your own firmly, holding you steady, reminding you that he’s here with you.
Joel smirks as you move on your own accord. He lets go of your hip to explore your stomach and your torso with his palms, his fingertips dancing along the underside of your breasts. He sits up to get closer to you, tweaking one of your nipples beneath his fingers and sucking the other into his mouth, licking and swirling his tongue around the peaked bud. You tangle your fingers in his salt and pepper curls, tugging the strands as you ride his pillow.
This is all he wanted. To watch you leave your mark on his clothes, in his bed, on his walls. He pulls away from you and watches you in admiration, moaning softly when he finally presses his palm against his bulge. He undoes his jeans and pushes both them and his boxers down his thighs, then removes his shirt. He grips his cock tightly, biting down on his moans as he gazes at you with lust in his eyes. He thinks you’re getting close now. Your hips are beginning to stutter in their movements, you’re getting quiet now like you’re concentrating on your pleasure, your body’s tensing up. He’s been so focused on you, he’s forgotten all about the fact that this is supposed to be your punishment for trespassing.
Fuck. The punishment.
Joel doesn’t have a clue how he’ll punish you as he lurches forward, kneels behind you and pulls your arms from the headboard. He hopes he’ll find the answer along the way. All he knows is that you’re not coming, not yet. Especially not by your own doing. Yeah, that’ll work, he thinks. He’ll bring you to the brink of orgasm, make you beg and apologize before finally letting you come. Maybe he’ll not even let you come, he’ll see how he’s feeling as time progresses
Joel holds your arms behind your back in one hand and you yelp in surprise, then he adjusts his placement and pulls you back by your legs until you’re prone on his bed. “Up, sweetheart, up,” he mumbles, lifting your hips and pulling his pillow back, propping your ass up for him. The dampness of your arousal on his pillow feels warm and sticky against your tummy.
He palms your ass, squeezing and kneading the flesh before parting your cheeks with his thumbs. He runs a single digit through your soft, slick folds, humming as you tremble beneath his touch. You’re so wet. “What a fuckin’ mess,” he purrs, pressing his middle finger against your entrance, circling it before pushing inside. You keen into his touch, arching your back for him.
“Joel,” you whine as he pulls his finger out.
“Do you know what a mess you made?” He doesn’t bother letting you attempt to respond, you’re way too addled for his touch to answer his question coherently. Joel dips his tongue between your sensitive folds, replacing his fingers. Just like how he touched you moments prior, he traces your entrance with a pointed tongue before dipping it into your heat. Your arousal is like honey, so thick and sweet on his lips.
He tastes you, savors you as he kisses your cunt. He’s lapping through your slick folds, his tongue parting all of your sensitive flesh, sensitive just for him. You can feel the wiry hairs of his beard tease your clit before he dips his lower, circling and flicking your bud with the muscle. He sucks it between his lips, making you squirm and writhe in pleasure. “Joel, oh my god.”
Your fantasies of Joel were never like this, never so indulgent. He’s sucking at your clit, then licking, nipping at your folds, before focusing his attention back to that bud. You’re moaning, pushing your ass back and grinding against his mouth, feeling his aquiline nose tease your hole. He’s buried between your most private place, his tongue flicking and swirling with such fervor. You’re biting into his sheets and seeing stars when he enters you with his fingers once more, curling them into that sweet spot inside of you.
You’re bucking against his face, your slick soaking his fingers to the knuckle, spilling into his palm. His fingers’ movements don’t falter as he pulls his mouth away from your cunt, trailing kisses over the crease where your ass meets your thigh. “You’re close, aren’t you?”
“I’m so close,” you answer through a gasp.
Joel kisses up your ass cheek, “How many times did you make yourself come in my bed?”
“Twice,” you reply. You’ll answer any question he asks now.
“Only twice?”
“Tonight.”
“Ohh,” Joel says. “Twice tonight. How ‘bout in total?”
You don’t know the answer. Of course you don’t. He’s doing the math in his head as he fingers you. He’s thinking at least twice a night, twice a week. This venture of yours has probably been taking place over a couple of weeks. So that’s…more than enough, he decides. “Yeah, ‘course you don’t know. S’lot though, hm?” He lifts his face to watch you nod. “In that case, m’not sure that you need to come again.”
“I do,” you whine, “I need it, Joel.”
“You want it–” Joel pulls his hand from your core and you cry at the loss. God, you wish his mouth was back there. “You be good to me and I’ll consider it.”
Joel pumps his cock momentarily behind you before he nudges a knee between your thighs. “Wider,” he instructs, leaning over you from behind. He brackets your thighs with his own, one hand on your waist as he notches the tip of his cock inside of you. He doesn’t yet push all the way in, though. Instead, he waits as you squirm and arch your back for him, trying to take more than what he’s giving you. You whine in frustration. “Easy, now,” he warns. “Should ask permission. Nicely.”
“Please, Joel,” you say, “Fuck me.”
“Yeah, there you go,” he praises, working into your body. You sigh in satisfaction as he buries himself in you fully, his tuft of coarse curls scratching against the skin of your ass. “Wasn’t so hard, hm?”
Joel tightens his grip on your hips, denting his nails into your skin like how you did to his headboard. His thumbs are pressed firmly into your lower back as he begins to roll his hips into you. The way he thrusts so languidly into you makes your head fuzzy, the only thought you can focus on being the sensation of his thick cock parting your insides. He’s fucking you steadily now, and you can feel the skin of his thick, pillowy tummy caressing your back with every stroke. Fuck, how good he feels.
He fucks you apart, setting a steady rhythm. Joel knows how much you needed him, how much you wanted him before now. How you love it, how it’s nothing but pure pleasure that makes up your whimpers and gasps and the tears on your cheek. He leans lower, covering your hand with his own and intertwining his fingers between yours. You shiver as he tugs your earlobe between his teeth, then licks and kisses your ear, his mustache tickling your skin as his nose nudges your temple gently. He takes a moment to kiss away your tears and rests his arm around the crown of your head, caressing your hair before fucking you wildly.
“Feels nice, doesn’t it, sweetheart?”
“So good,” you choke out.
You can feel Joel’s grin against the shell of your ear. “Just how you imagined when you were fuckin’ yourself on my pillow, hm?” he purrs.
“Better,” your answer is honest.
“Yeah, I know,” he says, “Good answer, sweetheart.”
He curls one of his forearms beneath your bicep, reaching for your breast and tweaking, pinching you as he wraps his other arm around you, searching for your pussy with his hand. He finds your sensitive bundle of nerves and draws lazy patterns over it, teasing you. You’re so wet. So slick, your pussy gushing with each stroke of his cock deep inside you. The sounds of your slick and skin slapping skin are lewd, obscene as he pounds his hips against your body. He’s grunting, gasping in your ear. It sends shivers down your spine.
You’re twitching and bucking your hips, chasing that tightness beginning to build in your tummy. “Easy,” he murmurs. “Let me take my time with you.” He knows how desperate you are to come, but Joel makes you wait a little longer, feel the burn some more.
You’re whining and squirming as Joel fucks you, his face buried against your neck the hair on his cheeks scratch you. He’s biting, nipping at your skin as you let out your breathy little moans. In every inch of his body, he feels it–that power he holds, knowing you’re aching to come on his cock and it’s all because of him, it’s all for him.
His cock is beginning to twitch and he’s feeling that warm, sticky feeling in his gut and deep in his balls, he’s not lasting much longer now. He fucks you harder. “What about now, huh?” he grunts, “Should I let you come now?”
“Yeah,” you moan. “Yes. Let me, let me.”
“Then ask me,” he whispers, momentarily slowing his pace. He draws in and out of you slowly as he speaks, “S’all I wanted you to do, just ask me.”
“Please let me come, Joel,” you ask.
“Good girl,” He brings his hand to your face, shoving his fingers past your lips. You know what he wants, no need for his instruction. You’re moaning, sucking on the digits as he fucks you, the motion of his thrusts grinding your clit into his warm palm. Joel feels you begin to tense up as you choke on his fingers. “There you go, let go, let go f’me. You’re alright,” he coos. “Come for me. I’ve got you.”
You’re stiffening underneath him, eyes screwing shut as you let yourself go. You come on his cock and against the calloused palm of his hand, ecstasy washing over you in thick, electrifying waves. Joel watches your face closely, he memorizes your cries of pleasure and how you convulse beneath him. He’s fucking wrecked you.
You’re gurgling on Joel’s fingers that are still in his mouth as he slides his other hand away from your cunt in favor of resting it up high by your head. It’s his turn for release now. He’s without a thought when his hips begin to stutter as they lose their rhythm, the frenetic slamming of his body against yours indicating his closeness. He lets out a symphony of grunts and moans into your ear as he comes inside you, painting your insides with his spend, milking himself entirely. You take it all, everything he gives you, whining at the overstimulation and the way his release makes you feel so warm and full. Your cunt is slippery with his come as his thrusts begin to slow, slow some more until he stills inside you completely, resting on top of you. With a groan, he pulls out to admire his work, to watch how your combined arousal spills on his sheets. He uses two fingers to push some of his escaped come back inside you.
You stay laying on your tummy as you cross your forearms to use as a pillow to rest your head. Joel meets you on his bed, also laying on his tummy. You hadn’t even realized he undressed himself.
He reaches over to caress your cheek, then your flannel-covered back. “Nice touch,” he murmurs. “S’pretty on you.”
“Smells like you,” you confess quietly. “Turns me on.”
Joel makes an amused face as he nods. His eyes are sparkly but sleepy and your cheeks are warm, you bite down on a shy and embarrassed smile. He smirks at that. “So bashful,” he purrs. “You’re welcome to use my home and wear my clothes for your dirty work any time you like,” he says. “Just invite me every now and then.”
-
If you enjoyed, please leave me a comment, rb, or send me an ask, tell me your thoughts. Your kind words and engagement keep me motivated to write
#strang3lov3#joel miller x reader#joel miller smut#the last of us hbo#joel miller x you#pedro pascal#joel miller#the last of us#joel miller x reader smut#joel miller one shot#pedro pascal the last of us#pedro pascal joel miller#pedro pascal x you#pedro pascal smut#pedro pascal characters
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does gojo ever freak out or worry ab reader when she’s alone on missions? obviously she can handle herself & knows what she’s doing, but he gives the vibes that he’d be internally panicking 😭
“hey, welcome back!” gojo grins, quickly shoving a half melted spatula to the bottom of the trash can.
“hi,” you murmur, tipping the bill of your cap down as you close the door behind you. odd. he doesn’t think he’s seen you wear a hat before.
“how was it?” he asks, flicking off the stove and closing in to welcome you properly with a kiss. well, he attempts to. you immediately take a step back, avoiding his embrace. he definitely doesn’t remember a time you’ve ever done that.
“i’m all sweaty,” you tell him, toeing your boots off and heading straight toward the bedroom. you say hello to the kids before shutting the door, the lock clicking into place.
“are you mad at me?” he asks as soon as he warps into the room.
“satoru!” you startle, staggering back into the door. “get out!”
“nope,” he hums, closing in on you. “we sleep in the same room and you know that i don’t respect boundaries.”
with that, he reaches over and pulls the baseball cap off your head.
“satoru, please don’t freak out—”
he freaks out.
he grabs your chin so you can’t turn away, inspecting the sutures lining your temple. “this is deep! are you okay? why were you hiding it from me?”
you swat his hand away, frowning. “i’m fine, and i wasn’t hiding it. i just didn’t want the kids to see. speaking of, did you guys eat dinner yet?”
“what grade curse was it?”
“special. i thought i smelled something burning—”
“you’re only grade one. why would they—”
“only grade one?” you repeat with a scoff. “don’t say it like that. you know the only reason i’m not special grade is because the zenin’s—”
“because the zenin’s are holding you back until you join them. they’re dicks, babe. that’s old news,” he finishes, tapping his foot impatiently.
“listen,” you tell him, pinching the bridge of your nose. “i just didn’t get out of the way fast enough. it’s just a cut. i’ve had worse.”
“well, next time they call you up for assignment, i’m coming with you,” he decides. “we’ll get a sitter for the kids and make it like a date night.”
“whoa,” you interrupt. “you’re inviting yourself on my assignments now? “do you think i’m not good enough?”
“well when you come home hurt, yeah!”
he regrets it as soon as he says it.
and he hates the way you’re looking at him. you’re hurt, and it shows. “wow. thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“hey…”
he says your name, reaching for your hand, but you pull away, shaking your head.
_____
freshly showered and changed, you pull your robe on, exiting the bathroom. gojo’s sitting on the bed, waiting with his head in his hands.
“you know i think you’re more than capable,” he says quietly. “i wasn’t making a dig at your skill. you’re incredible.”
“i know,” you hum, dumping your uniform into the basket.
he looks up at you, apologetic. “but if anything happened to you, and you were really hurt…it would be my fault.”
“that’s not true,” you say quickly, sitting beside him.
“it is,” he insists. “and i could never forgive myself, because i’m supposed to be the strongest.”
(and what’s the point of being the strongest if he couldn’t protect the people he loved most?)
“satoru,” you murmur, smoothing a hand across his back. “you have such a big heart. i’m dating you because of your heart— well, mostly your abs but also your heart. ou already take on so much for everyone. and i need you to trust that i can’t take care of myself. i don’t want to be another burden to you.”
wordlessly, he takes your hand and presses it to his chest, so you can feel his heartbeat.
“you are my whole heart. if i lost you and i could have stopped it, like i could’ve stopped—” he purses his lips, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. “i just can’t lose you.”
“and you won’t,” you promise, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “now let’s go have dinner.”
“ah. about that….”
_____
“alright, dinner’s served!”
you the kids exchange a look.
megumi leans close to you, whispering, “can we get sick from this?”
“go on,” satoru encourages, picking up his own sandwich. “it’s a spam sandwich! i used to eat these all the time before i met—”
“you’re really lucky you met her,” the twelve year old grumbles, peeling the bread back to look at the burnt piece of spam.
tsumiki, ever the people pleaser, takes a bite and chews very thoroughly before swallowing with great effort.
“um…the smoke added a nice hickory flavour to the spam.”
“okay, we’re getting pizza,” you decide, shooting your boyfriend an apologetic look.
#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#jjk x reader#jjk drabbles#jjk angst#keeping up with the fushigojos#keeping up with the fushigojos: extended cut!
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For your Theo fluff - He hates touch, like absolutely does not get touched by anyone ever. His friends know it. Everyone knows - but then you come along and it’s all you do. Hugs, hand holding, legs in lap, all the touchy things. And you have no idea that Theo was ever NOT a touchy person because he never said anything. And then Pansy or Draco tell you how he used to hate being touched, and you’re like ???? Because he never said anything. And then you stop. Like no more hugs, no fiddling with his hands during class, nothing. And then he’s like ???? And then you tell him why and he’s like … I only wanna be touched by you. And it’s just so fluffy and a little hint of sunshine!reader.
You are the best Theo fluff writer😭🔥❤️
theodore nott x sunshine!reader
a/n: sorry i’ve been so busy i’m catching up on requests now!!
theodore very instinctively backed away from blaise's incoming hands. the boy was simply joking around with his friend, but as he lifted his hands to pat his back, super bro-dude of him, Theodore backed away.
"sorry mate." blaise noticed his flinch and laughed. theodore shook his head and gave a small smile to his friend.
"you act like everyone but you has the black plague or something, theo." pansy laughed at the interaction.
"what?" theodore asked.
"you back away from touch so quick." the girl replied.
"yeah, you never let anyone touch you." Draco added.
"i don't think i've ever seen you hug som-"
"theo!" blaise was interrupted by you walking towards the group of slytherins with an unmissable smile on your face. theodore's face visibly lit up as he stood up to greet you. you instantly walked up to him and reached out for a hug which he gladly reciprocated. blaise, draco, and pansy looked at eachother in shock. they knew theodore liked you but for him to display pda so naturally was strange. the two of you had only been dating for a week and before that you seemed to be close already, but the group still never saw this side of the relationship.
"hello to you too, y/n." blaise said, holding back a laugh with a smile. you turned to the group and smiled at them.
"hi guys." despite the two breaking your hug, your arm did not leave his body. "can i sit?" she asked.
"of course, i don't think theo will let you leave anyway." pansy replied making everyone not so discreetly laugh. theodore scowled at them and led you to sit down next to him. you smiled as he placed his arm around you and chatted about your day to him.
the scene was incredible to theodore's slytherin friends. you couldn't keep your hands off him as you sat together and he did not mind at all. you held on to his hands, placed a hand on his thigh, even touched his hair as you spoke to him. all he did was stare and listen to you as you talked, occasionally giving commentary and melting in your touch.
"i'll go get it for you." theodore said as he stood up, responding to something you mentioned you forgot in his room.
"where are you off to?" draco asked.
"getting something for y/n, i'll be back." he replied as he headed to his dorm.
"that boy must really like you." pansy turned to you as soon as he was out of sight. you smiles.
"well i hope so."
“it’s so funny, we were just talking about how much he hates being touched before you came over.” blaise said. you furrowed your eyebrows at his comment.
“he does?” you questioned. they all nodded. you never would have thought that about theodore. you were naturally very touchy with people you cared about and didn’t think theodore had a problem with it because he never said anything. as you thought about it, you did realize that he rarely was as physically affectionate with you in the same way so maybe he didn’t like it?
as the week went on, this thought never left your head. you suddenly became self aware of all your actions around theodore. your hugs were shorter instead of unnecessarily being prolonged, you held his hand instead of clinging onto his arm, and you rarely played with his hair.
theodore did not understand what was going on. he knew something was different as soon as he noticed you hesitating to hug him. he was never one to initiate physical affection so he wasn’t sure how to go about this. his break point was one afternoon in the empty school courtyard when the two of you sat in the grass talking and enjoying each other’s company. you were next to him but did not even attempt to touch him the entire time.
theodore looked down at the hand you were leaning on that was in between the two of you. you were ranting about your divination exam but all he could think of was how much he missed your touch. he looked back up at you and nodded to your words. he moved his hand without looking to touch yours, intending to hold on to it, but you immediately moved it away.
“why are you doing that?” he interrupted you. you stared at him in silence.
“doing what?” you asked.
“you’re not touching me. are you upset with me or something?” he asked. you looked at him in disbelief.
“no. i’m not i just,” you looked down not really knowing what to say.
“just what?” he asked again.
“i thought you didn’t like being touched.” you said. he tilted his head at your words. “it’s your friends, they told me you don’t like being touched by people soon figured i would hold back on it because i don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”
“ragazza dolce (sweet girl),” he placed a hand on your cheek making you look at him. “i only like being touched by you. i miss it so much.” he says.
“really?” you asked. he nodded. you smiled and kissed him, placing your hand on his arm.
“now please give me a hug. yours are the best.” he smiled at you.
“if you insist.” you gave him a hug as he requested, smiling and closing your eyes as you lingered in the feeling.
#theo nott x reader#theodore nott#theodore nott x reader#theo nott#theodore nott x y/n#theodore nott fluff#theodore nott x you#theo nott fluff#theo nott x y/n
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𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲’𝐬 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥✨🎀
Pairing: quarterback!Ari Levinson x naive!Reader
Summary: You have to do what daddy says, no matter how depraved it may be.
Warnings: smutt, dd/lg vibes, daddy kink, phone sex, riding of stuffed animals, dirty talk, Ari being depraved, Ari being a cocky asshole, innocence kink.
“But Ari, I’ve never sent nudes before.”
You bite your lip, moving your phone from one ear to the other. It was 2am, and you’re usually never awake this late. But you’d been working on a paper that was due tomorrow morning, and then Ari had called you.
Which was crazy. You didn’t even know Ari had your number. He was a senior and you were only a freshman and it was insane that he wanted to talk to you! You’d only ever met him once at a party last week, where he’d flirted with you sporadically throughout the night. You didn’t think much of it at the time, since he’d been flirting with a bunch of other girls too.
“Just lift your shirt up and send me a picture, sweetheart.” Ari insists, sounding smug on the other end of the line. “Maybe play with your tits a bit? Fuck, you have such nice tits.”
“Y-You think so?”
“Yeah, baby. I can’t stop staring at them whenever I see you in person.”
“Oh. Thanks!” You know you shouldn’t be happy with such a shallow compliment, but the fact that he’s interested in you is giving you butterflies. He was older than you, and he was the captain of the football team and the most popular guy on campus. You were, of course, none of those things.
“Well? Don’t keep me waiting.” There’s a slight edge to his tone.
You inhale deeply, opening your camera and lifting your top up. You’re not wearing a bra and your nipples are already hard from Ari’s smooth-talking and his gravelly voice. You snap a quick picture before sending it to him.
A pause.
“Fuck, you are so hot.”
“Thank you!” You glow at the praise. But then your eye catches the clock on your nightstand, “ooh, Ari, it’s getting late! I need to sleep now.”
“No.” Ari commands. “Let’s talk on FaceTime.”
“But I’m only in my PJs!” (They were babyish pyjamas too, nothing sexy at all.)
He ignores you, cutting the call and then calling you again through FaceTime. You accept it, gasping because he was shirtless on his bed. You’d never seen him shirtless before! His chest and torso were so muscular and hairy—but it made him look so manly that you couldn’t help but feel sparks run down your spine.
“Cute PJs.” He snorts.
“I’m sorry I don’t have anything sexier.”
“Don’t worry, baby. But maybe you should just take your top off completely, hm?”
“Oh, uh… I don’t know about that, Ari.”
“I’m not wearing a shirt, am I? So it’s only fair if you don’t wear one either.” He gives you a charming smile and you feel your insides turn to goo. Oh, you had the biggest crush on him! You can already feel every cell in your body itching to do exactly what he’s asked you to.
You shrug your top off, trying only to focus on Ari and how his eyes widen, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. He licks his lips and runs a hand through his unruly brown hair. His other hand is out of frame, and you can’t see what he’s doing with it.
“Fuck, you’re so goddamn sexy, baby, showing off your hot, tight little body to me, huh?”
“I—I…uh… y-yeah, I guess—”
“Move up and down for me a bit, I wanna see your tits bounce. Mm, just like that, sweetie. Fuck, you love listening to me, don’t you?”
You watch in awe as he spits down into the palm of his hand, and now you can guess what his hand is doing and it makes your eyes widen but your core pulses with lust too.
“Look how hard your nipples are, baby. Touch ‘em for me. Play with them like a little slut, like how all the pornstars and slutty cam-girls do it. Like you’re being paid to do it, fuck! Goddamn, you’re so hot.”
He pans his camera downwards for a split second, and you gasp when you see his huge cock in his hand. He’s pumping it steadily, and it looks so big and fat and red and—
“B-But Ari, I’ve never watched porn before so I don’t know how a pornstar does it.” You blurt out.
A pause.
“Mm, you’re a real good girl aren’t you?” Ari chuckles breathlessly, running a hand through his hair again. He’s still pumping his dick, but more leisurely now, like a wolf who knows he has all night to play with his prey.
You shrug awkwardly, “I guess I am.”
“So tell me, how does a good girl like you like to be fucked?”
“Wh-What?!”
Ari snorts, “C’mon, sweetheart. You and I both know I’m gonna fuck you real soon. So I need to know how you like it. All sweet and slow? Because I can do that shit. Or are you a real freak in the sheets, and want me to shove your face against a pillow and take you hard and fast on your hands and knees?”
Your mouth drops open, and you suddenly feel so shy because how is he talking about such graphic things so easily???
“Mm, you like the sound of that second option huh?” Ari says, and now he sounds slightly breathless. His face is shiny with a layer of sheen, and his hair is falling over his face as he pumps his dick and his eyes look all over your topless form like he’s ravenous. “The innocent ones are always the freaky ones.”
“I’m not freaky!”
“So you don’t want me to fuck you doggy style with my hand round your throat like you’re wearing a goddamn collar, huh baby?” His voice sounds rough, gravelly, so infinitely turned on. And it’s crazy how quickly he switches back and forth from that to his casual, charming tone.
“Bet your little baby pussy is clenching right now, isn’t it baby? And I bet you’ve made a mess all over your bed because you’re so turned on.”
You glance down guiltily, hating how he’s right. There’s a huge wet stain on your sheets underneath you. You hadn’t realised just how wet you were because of all this. You bow your head and Ari smirks knowingly.
“Virgins get the wettest. And you’re a virgin, aren’t you?”
Your eyes widen even more and you nod. Fuck, fuck, fuck, how did he know?!
“That’s what I thought.” Ari lets out a low groan, jacking off even faster. “Now listen, I want you to practice for when I fuck you.”
“Practice?”
“Yes, baby. I need to teach you so many things. But first tell me, do you have a stuffed animal in your room?”
Your face lights up, “Sure I do! This is Fluffy!” You grab your stuffed lamb and wave it in front of your camera.
“Give Fluffy a kiss.” Ari orders you darkly, his tone switching to more serious.
“Huh?”
“You heard me. Give your toy a kiss.” His normally blue eyes are now almost black, his pupils are so blown out with lust. And his order is kind of weird but you feel your pussy clench and leak some more, and you know you’re turned on by how authoritative he’s being.
You obey, pecking the stuffed lamb quickly. You feel embarrassed but you’re also feeling extremely submissive. And obeying him is turning you on so much.
“Not like that, baby. Make out with Fluffy properly. Like you would if it was me.” Ari says, and you look at him in shock only to see him smirking lazily back at you. His dick is throbbing against his hairy abs and he’s once again lazily stroking himself as he watches you intently. “Use your tongue.”
It’s by far the weirdest thing you’ve ever done. You scrunch your eyes shut and try to imagine your stuffie is Ari. And it’s not like you haven’t done it before — because you’ve practiced kissing on your stuffies in the past. But never in front of an audience, let alone a ravenous looking jock who’s jacking off while watching your every move intently.
“Mm, just like that. You like kissing Fluffy, huh?” He asks you darkly, and you can hear the steady thwapping sound of him pumping his dick.
“Uh. Not really, it’s kind of wei—”
“Use your tongue more,” he cuts you off, “get your little toy nice and wet, baby. Mm, just like that. Daddy loves it when you do it like that.”
You gape at him, “d-daddy?”
Ari smirks, “yeah. That’s what you’re gonna call me from now on. Got it?”
You gulp, “I didn’t know that was a thing.”
He licks his lips, “of course you didn’t know, you’re just a baby. But guys love it when girls call them daddy. It just means I’m in charge of you and that I’ll take care of you. That sounds nice, doesn’t it?”
You mull over his words. That did sound nice, and the idea of calling him daddy was kinda making you feel all hot and bothered down there…
“Try it.” Ari suggests, “Say that you’re just a little baby who needs her daddy to tell her what to do.”
You bite your lip, “uh—okay. I-I’m just a little baby and I need my… my daddy to tell me what to do.” You pause and beam, looking at him through your phone screen proudly, “how was that?”
He nods approvingly, “you’re a natural, baby. Now why don’t you put Fluffy between your legs so he can kiss your other lips?”
Your jaw drops, and yet you feel yourself clench at his words, “What??”
“Come on, sweetheart. Do it for daddy. I’m not here to give you your special kissies down there, which means Fluffy has to do it, right?”
“Special k-kissies?”
“That’s right. Little baby girls like you need their special kissies or else you’ll disappoint your daddy.”
You glance down at your pyjama shorts which are soaking wet. Despite you feeling awkward, you also felt immensely turned on by each word that came out of his mouth. How he was ordering you to do these depraved things… How he was talking to you all condescendingly like you were a baby… Oh, you didn’t want to disappoint him!
Slowly, you spread your legs and press Fluffy down against your clothed mound. You make sure to pan your phone downwards so Ari can see, and he groans appreciatively. His thumb strokes the head of his dick before he moves his hand up and down, now leisurely stroking himself as if he wants to savour these next few moments.
“That’s right, hump your sexy little baby pussy against your toy. Doesn’t that feel so sexy, baby?”
You nod, “feels good, Ari—I mean daddy. It feels good.”
“Damn right it does, daddy always knows what’s best for my little baby.” He runs his hand through his already dishevelled hair. His cheeks are flushed and he’s got a dark, determined look on his face as he continues to jack off, his eyes glued on you.
“Ride your little stuffie just like that,” he murmurs, “get that pretty baby pussy all wet and slippery and worked up, ready for my daddy dick. How’s that sound, princess? You ready for daddy’s dick?”
You bite your lip again, this time in pleasure as you continue to rub your pussy against the stuffie, “I think so. But you’re so big…”
That makes him smile, and he pans his camera down again to show you his fat, angry red cock. He’s got a huge vein running down it, and you get the sudden urge to lick it. God, he was so big! And thick too! You feel giddy and scared at the thought that he might actually be your first…
“H-How many girls have you slept with, daddy?” you ask shyly.
“Only a few,” he snorts, his tone vague before the glint in his eye returns. “I think I’ll only be able to fit my big dick halfway through your tiny snatch.” He says, “What do you think, baby?”
You nod, “I agree, you’re—uh— super big, daddy.”
“Mmhm, but you’d love it even more if I held you down and forced my fat cock inside your baby cunt till I’m all the way in, so deep you can feel me in your fucking womb, wouldn’t you?” he lets out a string of curse words as he pumps himself, “Tell me you’d like that.”
“I would!” You cry, feeling like you’re so, so close to cumming, “d-daddy, I—”
“Shhh, baby girl. Daddy knows,” Ari’s watching you like a hawk as your movements grow more and more desperate, your hips rutting against your poor stuffed lamb. “Put your phone up against your pillow or something, so I can watch you ride your toy properly.”
You do as he asks, no questions asked. And it’s times like this where you feel extremely lucky that you don’t have a roommate. And you hope Ari doesn’t either.
“Yeah, just like that. Get your toy all wet, sweetheart. Fuck, you’re so sexy,” Ari spits down on his palm before resuming to pump his cock, “bet you wish it was daddy underneath you like that, don’t you? Bet you wish I was eating your cunt just like that.”
You fist the sheets, trying not to look at your stuffie as you straddle it, humping it like a wanton whore.
“Yeah? You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” A few strands of his brown hair flip over his forehead, and he pushes them back impatiently, “Riding your daddy’s tongue, rubbing your baby cunt all over my face while you hold your little stuffed animal and cry like a baby ‘cause it’s too much for a little girl like you to handle.”
“Oh, I’d really like that!” you cry out, the pleasure within you mounting as you continue to breathlessly rub against your stuffie. You don’t even know what you’re saying anymore, but he’s painting such a vivid, hot picture with his words that you can’t help but agree. “W-Wanna ride you so bad, daddy. Would be so much – ah! – so much better than Fluffy!”
Ari smirks, “Damn right, it would. And tell me how you’d dress up for me, baby.”
“Would wear anything you want me to!”
“Yeah? What about a pretty pink princess dress? You’d wear that for daddy?”
“Y-Yeah!”
“A cute and flouncy one, where your cute little ass pokes out every time you bend over in it,” he grunts, leaning forward as his pumping gets faster, “Your bare ass just begging for a hard slap – fuck! Tell me you’d like that!”
“I’d love it!” you agree quickly, your whole body on fire just from his words. But then, despite everything, a thought occurs to you, “B-But, daddy. I don’t have a flouncy pink dress like that.”
“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll buy you one.” Ari promises. “But first, you need to take your shorts off for me.”
You don’t even object this time. The fabric of your pyjama shorts is all wet and sticky against your pussy, so you quickly discard them before resuming what you’re doing. And you can’t help but throw your head back and moan embarrassingly loudly, because the stuffie’s fur catching against your bare clit feels heavenly. You circle your hips against Fluffy with renowned vigour, all while Ari watches you closely with carnal eyes.
“Show me your ass,” he orders you softly, and yet there’s a note of authority in his tone, “show daddy your cute little baby ass, sweetheart.”
You grab your phone, scrunching your eyes shut as you twist awkwardly, pointing it to your ass. But your heart skips a beat when Ari groans in appreciation.
“Fuck, you’ve got such a cute little butt, princess,” Ari murmurs, his gaze on you intense. “I bet it jiggles all cutely when you slap it, huh?”
“I – ah! – I dunno…”
His dark eyes flash, “Slap your ass for me, princess.”
Oh gosh, how embarrassing! You hesitate, “I…I…”
“Do it. Do what daddy tells you,” Ari runs his tongue over his lips, “I’m in charge and I know what’s best for you, sweetheart. Don’t disappoint me. Spank your little baby ass for daddy.”
You do as he asks, so completely under his control that you just can’t think straight. All you want to do is chase your own pleasure as you continue to ride your stuffed animal, and listen to the dirty talk coming out of Ari’s mouth. You gingerly slap your ass lightly, and Ari moans in appreciation before ordering you to do it harder. You comply once more, you’re so close to orgasming that you don’t even think twice.
“Yeah, fuck. Just like that, baby. God, I wish I could spank that cute ass of yours myself. Next time I see you at a party, I’m bending you over my lap in front of everyone. You’d let me do that, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes!” You’d have agreed to anything at this point.
“Damn right. And I’d flip your skirt over and spank your bare ass in front of all my fucking friends, because you’re my property and I can do that, can’t I?”
“Y-Yes! Ari, I’m so close!”
“Oh yeah, baby? Cum then. I’m not stopping you.”
Your orgasm hits you like a freight train, and you don’t stop moving your hips, imagining your riding his thick cock as you cry out in pleasure. And you can hear Ari talking you through it, calling you his good little girl, telling you that daddy’s so proud of you, that you’re doing so well, that you’re so good at following instructions. And fuck, you’ve never been this wet before, and you’ve never cum this hard before. It takes you a good few minutes to recover, limbs shaking and your core so sensitive.
Once you finally regain your senses, you peer shyly at your phone once more to see Ari throwing away a wad of tissues.
“D-Did you…?”
He snorts, “After that show you just put on? Of course I did.”
Heat rushes to your face, a part of you disappointed that you missed out on watching him orgasm because you were too wrapped up in your own pleasure. “Oh. Wow, okay.”
Ari grins, “Look at you, all shy all of a sudden. Cat got your tongue, baby?”
You purse your lips and stick your chin out defiantly at him, “No! Just… Tired is all.”
Ari nods thoughtfully, “Tired, huh? So then I shouldn’t come over tonight?”
Tonight? But it was so late! And yet your pussy thrums at the thought.
“Y-You wanna come over?” You breathe.
“Yeah, sweetheart. I gotta touch you in person, otherwise I won’t be able to sleep the whole night.” He flashes you a cocky smile, and you watch in awe as he zips his jeans and pulls a shirt over his head. You can’t help but bite your lip. God, he was the most attractive, hottest guy you’d ever seen in your life!
“So, you gonna text me your address, or what?”
“Yes, daddy.”
So like… when I get horny, I tend to write things like this. ANYWAYS, lemme know what you think! Love you guys! This was sitting in my drafts for ages and finally I decided to finish it! 🩷🩷🩷
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