#I’m just a grown man who can’t even look his own friends in the eye for too long because I’m too afraid they’ll see that I am broken.

[mothandpidgeon]

Unrequited (bfd! pre-outbreak!/Jackson!Joel Miller x f!reader)

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pairing: bfd! pre-outbreak!/Jackson!Joel Miller x f!reader

rating: E 18+MDNI

summary: You arrive in Jackson 22 years after the outbreak only to be reunited with your best friend’s dad, the man that stole your heart and broke it when you were fourteen– Joel Miller.

contents: best friend's dad, age gap, outbreak night (nothing that isnt in ep 1), big angst, abandonment issues, brief suicidal ideation, daddy issues, grief, Joel guilt, unprotected p in v sex, reader doesn't know where Jakarta is, reader is not described physically but Joel picks (adult) reader up, moth never uses y/n.

wc: 9k

a/n: This has been a bitch to finish but I'm quite proud of where it ended up. It's the longest os I've written which makes me nervous nobody will want to read it but I hope you do.

Thank you a million times to @ezrasbirdie for making me finish this and betaing. Also thank you @lowlights for listening to me ramble on this! Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Old man, take a look at your life. I’m a lot like you. Neil Young

You’re waiting for Sarah on the front steps when she gets home. School ended nearly two hours ago and you’ve been sitting here a ball of nerves. The whole world seems to be uneasy this afternoon. You notice sirens, a team of fighter jets scrambling above. It's like your anxiety has spilled out of your chest and it’s taken life all around you. 

You finger the corner of your notebook. On the inside are doodles— hearts and bubble letters. Juvenile daydreams put to paper. Your first name and after it his last, testing out the sound of who you would be if only you’d been born in a different decade. Mrs. Miller. 

Sarah doesn’t look very happy to see you. It’s been two weeks since you’ve talked to her and you’ve never felt more lonely. 

Her words still ring in your ears. 

“It’s like you’re in love with my dad.”

“No I'm not!” you said, your whole body tingling with the heat of embarrassment. You’d never felt so exposed in your life. 

“Sometimes I think that’s the only reason you’re even friends with me,” she said. 

You've been ruminating on that accusation ever since. You pine for Mr. Miller the way only a fourteen year old can. It’s the kind of infatuation that makes you understand how Romeo and Juliet ended in tragedy. All-consuming, unrequited, so in love it hurts.

So maybe Sarah’s right. Your heart flutters every time Mr Miller appears in the kitchen, wearing a dark t-shirt that hugs his biceps. You try not to stare at his aquiline nose when he drives you home from Sarah’s soccer games. Sleep overs at the Miller’s house mean more opportunities to be around him, learn the little details that make him him. And there were plenty of sleep overs because your parents are always so busy fighting, they never bother to keep track of you. 

But you’ve been in agony without your friend. It’s a pain sharper and more present than the yearning you’ve felt for Mr. Miller. You’ve talked to her every day since you moved to Austin in fourth grade and since this fight, there’s been an empty space in your heart. 

“Hi.” You stand up, hoisting your backpack awkwardly over your shoulder. 

“I’m supposed to go next door,” Sarah says. 

“Can I just talk to you for a minute?” you ask. 

She sighs but opens the front door with her key and lets you follow her into the living room. 

“I’m sorry,” you say before you lose your nerve. “You’re right. I like your dad.”

It’s probably the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever owned up to. You wish you could explain to her that you know how silly it is to be in love with a full grown man, your best friend’s dad. It’s not like he’ll ever see you as anything other than a kid. 

You can’t put into words how he makes you feel. It’s not just his broad shoulders or chocolate eyes, though it’s undeniable that he’s gorgeous. He asks about school and comes to see you in the musical. Joel is an adult that actually gives a crap about you. 

You want to tell Sarah that one of the reasons you love her father so much is because of her. Because he’s such a good dad, because he raised such a cool, funny, smart daughter. That Sarah makes him better. 

It’ll take years for you to find words for all of that. So you just do your best right now. 

“I can’t help it. I wish I could,” you say. 

That’s true. And not just because your crush has made you lose your only friend. It’s exhausting to feel such a powerful longing, to want something you know you’ll never have. It’s torture. 

“But you’re my best friend. And that’s not why. I promise,” you say. 

Sarah sighs heavily, her pretty hazel eyes full of remorse. 

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I shouldn’t have said that. I just get jealous sometimes.”

“I promise I won’t make you feel that way ever again. I could never like him more than you,” you tell her, sitting beside her on the couch and looking her in the eye so she knows you mean it. “He’s…old.”

You both laugh. 

“He’s so lame. This morning he said that Jakarta is in the Middle East,” she giggles. 

You don’t know where the hell Jakarta is but of course Sarah does. You throw your arms around her. You’ve missed her so damn much. The past two weeks have felt like two decades. 

“I’m sorry,” you tell her. 

“Me too.” She returns your embrace. “Do you have to go home? You can sleep over if you want. It’s my dad’s birthday but I don’t think he’s going to be home until late.”

Your heart twinges at the offer and not because it means you might see Mr. Miller at breakfast. You won’t even look at him again. Tonight is about your friend.

You end up watching some corny action movies and gorging yourselves on microwave popcorn. Everything feels right again. You don’t think about Mr. Miller. In fact, you’re grateful that his double has gone over into a late night so you don’t have to be in the same room. You’ve sworn to yourself that you’ll act normal around him but you’re not sure that sheer willpower can stop you from getting butterflies when he’s right there. 

At some point, you pass out in front of the tv, happier than you’ve been in a long time. 

Sarah nudges you awake sometime after midnight, concern all over her face. 

“Was I snoring?” you ask, groggy. 

She’s looking out the window. Helicopters fly so low overhead, the whole house rattles. It’s a wonder you slept through all of this noise— the choppers are joined by the wail of a car alarm, pops like fireworks. The TV is playing a high-pitched tone and when you peer at it, you see a test pattern on the screen. 

Dread settles in the pit of your stomach. 

“Something’s going on,” Sarah says almost to herself. 

A sudden thud against the back door makes you both jump. You swear, shaken out of your sleepy haze. 

“Mercy?” Sarah asks. 

You’ve spent enough time with Sarah to become acquainted with their neighbors The Adlers and their border collie Mercy. Mr Adler used to pay you each a dollar to walk him. Mercy’s frantically pawing at the glass. 

Sarah goes to the door and steps into the yard. You follow, unsure you want to leave the familiar safety of the house but unwilling to be alone with such an eerie feeling in the air. 

“What’re you doing out here, boy?” Sarah says, crouching down to pet the whimpering animal.  

“Where’s your dad?” you ask her. 

You hope the question doesn’t make Sarah think you’ve already forgotten your promise. Everything’s just so wrong. You’d feel a lot better with an adult around. 

“Don’t think he came home yet,” she says. You can hear the concern in her voice. “Let’s take Mercy back. The Alder’s will be home.” 

Mercy puts up a fight as Sarah pulls him across the lawn. It’s late and dark save the street lamp and a few porch lights that have been left on. You shiver despite the fact that it’s a warm southern night. 

The front door to the Adler’s house stands open and inside is black. No. Bad. You want to run back to the Miller’s house and lock the door behind you but the promise of Mr. And Mrs. Adler inside keeps you moving towards the darkened entrance. Maybe Mrs. Adler will give you some cookies while you wait for Mr. Miller. 

Sarah steps in first. The dog bucks and strains against her grip on his collar. Sarah fights to keep hold of him but Mercy’s thrashing makes him hard to pin down. He pulls free from Sarah’s grasp and darts away. 

You have half a mind to do the same but Sarah keeps going forward. She’s scared, too, her breaths shallow as she tip toes down the hall.  

“Mrs. Adler?” Sarah asks, her voice barely above a whisper. 

You reach for each other without even realizing it and you enter the kitchen holding hands. 

What you see there is beyond your wildest imaginings. There’s blood, a lot of it. Sarah’s shoe slides in the stuff and you grab her before she loses her balance. The room is cast in shadows but a street light streams through the window in the side door. Its beam falls over the form of Mr. Adler, limp on the floor. His back is against the door and a gush of dark blood sparkles in the sodium vapor. 

You’ve never seen so much blood, never seen anyone injured so brutally. It looks like he’s been attacked by some wild animal. Mercy was acting strange but the dog couldn’t do that.

“Help me,” he rasps. 

He’s speaking to you. You’re actually here. This is happening and you need to do something. 

But before you can form a coherent thought, your eyes travel deeper into the kitchen. Beside the island is more blood…and more bodies. 

As if seeing Sarah’s neighbor with his neck ripped open wasn’t enough of a horror, you’re now watching Nana hunched over Mrs. Adler’s corpse, her face buried in the younger woman’s neck. The scene before you makes no sense. Most of the time the old woman is barely conscious, hasn’t left her wheelchair in years and yet she’s on all fours before you looking feral. 

Sarah squeezes your hand so tight you’re afraid your knuckles will break. 

Nana slowly raises her face to you. Her eyes are pitch black and her mouth teems with twitching tendrils. You are staring at a living, breathing monster. 

When she leaps at you, you and Sarah bolt for the door. Your heart hammers against your ribs. Sarah makes it out first and races towards the sidewalk. 

Once you’ve gotten onto the front step, you slam the storm door shut behind you to trap whatever that thing is inside. SLAM. Nana collides with the door and it rattles violently. You hold it closed with every ounce of strength in you, listening to the creature behind it scratch and wail and willing yourself not to look through the glass to see its horrible face. Terror holds your muscles taught. You’re not sure how long you can stay like this, your sneakers skidding across the ground. 

With a roar, Uncle Tommy’s truck pulls up at that very moment and Mr. Miller hops out of the passenger seat before its even come to a full stop. He’s a fearsome sight, broad and rippling with untamed energy, his muscular arms outlined by the headlights of the car. You’ve never been more grateful for his presence. 

This nightmare is almost over. Joel’s come to save you. 

“Girls get in the car!” he bellows. His voice is raw and ragged. 

Just as you’re ready to make a run for it, The door flings out towards you, and you’re thrown aside as if you weigh nothing. You hit the driveway hard, your head connecting with concrete. 

For a moment, you can’t hear anything but the gush of blood pumping in your ears. You’re dizzy. Suffocating. There’s a warm trickle at your temple. Sarah calls your name. Your vision is blurred but you can make out the ghoulish form of the creature barreling towards her. 

“What’re we doing, Joel?” you hear Tommy ask.

There’s a thud and then quiet. 

You gasp again and again but your lungs won’t fill. 

Are you dying? Help. You need help. The monster lays lifeless at Joel’s feet and you pray that he’ll scoop you up and take you away from this. Your eyes finally come into focus to see Mr. Miller comforting Sarah, holding her face in his big palms, so fixated on her that he doesn’t notice that Mr. Adler has appeared in the doorway. 

Mr. Adler is still covered in so much blood and his gait has become twitchy as if his legs are on backwards. He moves towards them and you want to call out a warning but you’re still choking for air. Luckily he hasn’t noticed you but he soon stands between you and the Millers. 

“We’ve got to move,” Tommy says. 

“Get in the car,” Mr. Miller says to Sarah, throwing a protective arm in front of her. 

“But she’s hurt!”

She steps towards you. You’d cry her name but you’ve still got the wind knocked out of you and you’re too terrified to make a noise. Mr. Adler makes an inhuman sound as he advances, a croaking, growling gurgle. 

Mr. Miller pushes Sarah towards the truck. 

“Leave her!” he barks. “Get in the car!”

You sputter and choke as you watch Sarah, Joel, and Tommy drive away. 

You wait for a long time. 

As the truck pulls off of the curb, Mr. Adler is joined by his wife in the street, making chase. You’re finally able to draw breath and rouse your body off of the ground. You scramble back across the lawn to the Miller’s house and lock yourself inside. There’s enough adrenaline coursing through you that you’re able to push the sofa to barricade the front door. You draw all of the curtains and grab the biggest knife you can find in the kitchen. It’s ridiculous, something you’ve seen in scary movies, but you’re living in one right now. 

You hide yourself away. Sarah’s bedroom seems like the obvious place to do it. Familiar and safe. You curl yourself into a ball in the corner, clutching your knife and staring at the closed door with wild eyes. 

Sirens go through the night. Gunshots. At one point even the roar of a jet engine. 

For hours your body quivers as you try to make sense of what you’ve just witnessed. Flesh-eating mutants. Gore. Death. You keep waiting to wake up from a bad dream but you don’t. They left you. They abandoned you in a nightmare. 

No. That’s impossible. You can accept that a comatose elderly woman made supper out of her son in law but you refuse to believe that Joel would desert you. 

He’ll come back for you. Sarah will convince him. There’s always been room for you in their family. 

But as the sun begins to peek through the blinds and the noises outside fade away, you begin to lose hope. 

The muscles in your body go slack, exhausted from hours of uncontrollable shaking. Your instinct for survival and your need for sleep war with each other. Exhaustion is winning. 

You cautiously open the door to Sarah’s room. The house is still, more quiet than you’ve ever experienced. You creep into the room at the end of the hall. The olive green sheets on Joel’s bed are still messy from when he woke up here the day before. A normal morning. His birthday. 

You rest the knife on the night stand amongst the things he emptied from his pockets— coins, receipts, a stray nail. You slip into the bed and wrap yourself up. It smells like him— spicy deodorant and sweat, fresh cut lumber like the hardware store. The scent reminds you of all those times he was close, when your heart leapt. 

They’ll come back. Mr. Miller wouldn’t leave you. 

He left you to die but you just go on living.  

It takes some time before you’re brave enough to leave the Miller’s house and see what’s left of the world. Your parents are nowhere to be found. It’s safe to assume they were infected that first night. 

You’re on your own. 

A QZ is set up outside of San Antonio. They assign you to housing for separated minors. An orphanage. You never make friends, not really. Trust is too fickle.

At night you lay in your bunk and wonder what life would be like if anybody gave a shit about you. Maybe you would have been with your parents when it all went down. You’d be a snarling monster but at least you wouldn’t be alone. 

On the worst nights, when you like yourself the least, Mr. Miller’s words echo around your skull. “Leave her.” She's not worth it. Forget her. 

You don’t imagine yourself in his arms anymore. Instead you picture him and Sarah and Uncle Tommy, all happy and safe hiding out somewhere idyllic. A sweet little cabin with a stream nearby, surrounded by peaceful woods. You’ve heard some people live like that.

Some days you wish you were with them. Others you wish they were all dead. 

When you turn 18, you age out of your living situation. It couldn’t come soon enough. Things are changing and it seems like all the kids that stay in FEDRA school are being groomed to go straight into uniform. You dodged that bullet but life’s not easy. Now you’re well and truly alone, scraping by to keep food in your mouth and a roof over your head. 

It only lasts a few years, though. By the time you’re 21, there’s an emergency evacuation. Outbreaks are happening within the walls and with so many people living on top of each other, it’s only a matter of time before shit hits the fan. They send swaths of people to Dallas but word is, there’s no room for such numbers and they consider everyone from San Antonio an infection risk. 

You’ve heard enough stories to know what that means. There won’t be a warm welcome when you reach the next QZ. So you ditch the convoy and head north. 

You bounce around for years, sometimes with others, a lot of time solo. Doing what you have to. It’s not a life, just survival. 

By the time you reach the wilds of Wyoming, you’ve had enough. You break off from the group you’re traveling with. You leave them this time, just decide to walk into the forest and let the earth swallow you up. You’re exhausted, sick of hanging on by a thread. Too much of a coward to kill yourself, you wander around waiting for the cold or your hunger or a bear to do it for you. 

They find you. Some scouts that look mean and tough take pity on you and offer you a place with them in a commune where things are half normal. 

It’s the first time being alone has worked to your advantage.  

Jackson is a strange place. It has walls like the QZ but it’s quaint. There’s laughter and evergreen wreaths, happy children that build snowmen in the center of town. Some of these kids have no idea how fucked up the world has become. All they know is this charming little haven. 

You spend the first few days in the infirmary, getting patched up, regaining your strength. You feel like an animal compared to the people in your new community. It’s hard to accept that they’re willing to help you, no strings attached. 

Eventually you’re well enough to have your own place. They set you up with a little apartment over one of the stores in town. You’re invited to take your meals in the dining hall. 

It takes you back to those first days at your new middle school after you came to Austin. Unfortunately, this time Sarah’s not there to offer you a seat at her lunch table. 

You keep to yourself, overwhelmed by all of the strange new faces. Head down, you eat your breakfast. It’s the best food you’ve had in years. As your belly fills, you start to relax and try to get used to the idea of this being home. 

Then you hear a familiar voice say your name. You wonder if you’re hallucinating when you see him standing in front of you. 

He’s gained a few decades but he looks good. His hair is nearly shoulder length and there’s a mustache on his upper lip but that’s him alright. 

“Uncle Tommy?” you manage. 

“That really you?” he asks. 

Tommy puts a gentle hand on your shoulder. His smile wrinkles the corners of his eyes. You nod and you’re smiling too.  

You expect to be upset. Tommy was there when you were abandoned after all. But you’re flooded with relief and a small flame of hope. 

“Shit. What’re the chances?” he asks, studying your face. “C’mere.”

He pulls you through the lines of tables. Your head spins with questions. How did he end up in Wyoming of all places? How long has he been here? Did you actually die out there only to be sent to this strange afterlife? 

“You remember this old son of a bitch?” Tommy asks with a chuckle when he stops at the table in a far corner. 

And suddenly you’re face to face with Mr. Miller. 

He’s old. Grey hairs run through his stubble and curl from his temple. There are deep lines in his face. He’s still good looking despite how weathered his features have become, still broad, still with that wonderful silhouette.

It’s funny. In your mind’s eye, you’ve never imagined Joel aging. He stayed the same while you grew up. 

He looks at you for a long moment and then his thick bottom lip falls agape. His eyes glitter and his dimple appears as he recognizes the woman that you’ve become. 

“Kiddo,” he whispers as he stands up. 

He pulls you into a hug and his wide palm smooths down your back. He still smells just how you remember and without warning you’re sobbing into the front of his flannel. 

You spent hours upon hours imagining what you might say if you ever saw him again. Sometimes it was a speech biting with venom, others a confession, a question. Now, though, your mind is blank, overwhelmed that fate has brought you back together. A testament to your survival. 

“It’s alright, babygirl. You’re okay,” he says into your hair. Words you needed to hear all those years ago. 

You stay like this for a long time, surrounded by him. He holds you the way you wished he had as you cried into his pillow in that empty house. Eventually you pull yourself together with a shaking breath. 

“Where’s Sarah?” you ask, casting your eyes around the crowd in the mess hall. 

There’s a girl sitting beside Joel, her curly hair pulled back into a ponytail, watching this scene unfold. Everyone else is polite enough to pretend you’re not bawling in the middle of lunch. Can’t be the first time it’s happened. 

At your question, Tommy goes stone faced. The muscle in Joel’s jaw ticks. 

You shake your head in disbelief. “Infected?” you squeak out. 

“It wasn’t like that,” Joel chokes. 

“She didn’t make it through that first night,” Tommy says. 

It’s a punch in the gut, the air’s knocked out of your chest all over again. While it had crushed you to be abandoned, part of you understood. Joel had to choose and he picked his daughter. Even if he’d been in love with you the way you used to dream about, he always would have chosen Sarah. You couldn’t hold that against him, no matter how much it hurt. There just wasn’t anyone in the world that would have saved you. 

But knowing that he failed her, that he failed you both, makes you sick. All those years of bitterness come flooding back to you and your tears turn hot and furious. 

“You let her die?” you demand. “You told her to leave me behind and you didn’t even save her?” You push Joel, your hands against the wet spots you left on his shirt. It’s ineffectual. He barely moves against your pathetic shove but his face crumples. You know he hates himself as much as you do in that moment but that’s not enough. You hit him as hard as you can and he does nothing to defend himself. 

“Hey, hey,” Tommy says, trying a hand on your shoulder. 

“You should’ve saved her,” you bark. 

Heads have turned now as Tommy holds you back. 

“I hoped you were dead every day since you left me,” you say. 

You can see on his face that Joel’s definitely wished the same thing. 

You go on berating him, your tears mixing with spit as you snarl and shout, until Tommy’s able to wrestle you out of the dining hall. 

The summer comes. After a long, cold winter, everyone in Jackson welcomes the change of seasons with open arms. Everyone but Joel. 

Ellie was a salve for the deep wounds on his heart. They’ll never fully heal but at least they stopped overwhelming him for some time. Since your dramatic reunion, though, those scars have been torn open once more. Especially today. 

It’s warm and there’s barely a cloud in the sky. The July weather is mild compared to summers in Texas. Fresh air blows in through the open windows of the house, beckoning Joel outside but he has no desire to be in the sunshine. 

“You okay?” Ellie asks. 

She’s just come down the stairs. It’s early and Joel’s already at the kitchen table. Didn’t sleep much. 

He and Ellie have been together long enough that she understands the wordless shifts in his moods. They’ve gotten worse since you arrived in Jackson. He does his work and patrols, sometimes he nurses a whiskey alone at the bar. The rest of the time he keeps to himself. He’s sliding back towards the man she met back in Boston. Joel’s rebuilt the walls that surrounded him, brick by brick since that afternoon in the dining hall. 

“I was going to meet Dina at the mess. Want to come? Or I could stick around?” she offers. 

It’s going to be one of those dark days, the kind that makes him question why he’s been hanging on for so long, and Ellie knows it. She’s giving him a lifeline, offering to be with him so he doesn’t have to ask. He should accept it, but he doesn’t want to waste his energy putting on a brave face for her when he feels so broken. 

“That’s alright, Ellie. Go on,” he says. 

She doesn’t push him. She never does. She just gives a sympathetic smile before she slips out. 

Once seems gone, his heart begins to ache. 

Sometime later, there’s a knock at the door. The last person he expects to see on the porch is you. You look a little nervous, like if he’d taken longer to come to the door you might’ve bolted. 

He hasn’t spoken to you since that day that you came back into his life but the words you said play relentlessly on loop in his mind. He should have made amends by now. You were his daughter’s best friend and of all the places at the end of the world, you’ve ended up in the same town. He passes by the old pharmacy you live above just about every day, thinks about seeing if you’re in so you can have a conversation. He even knows what he’d say, but he can’t work up the courage. There aren’t any words that can make right what he did to you. 

The guilt metastasized deep in his gut. His failure compounded. 

So he doesn’t blame you for keeping your distance, avoiding him when your paths cross. He lets you be angry with him, as he deserves. 

“Want some company?” you ask. 

He recognizes the look on your face and it dawns on him that he might not be the only person struggling today. He steps aside to let you in. 

Joel sets a cup of tea down in front of you. It’s not the real thing. Dried herbs from the garden Maria keeps. You’ve taken a seat across from him at the table, glancing around the kitchen so you don’t have to look at him. 

“Surprised you remember,” he says. 

“My best friend’s birthday?”

He shrugs as he pulls up a chair across from you. “Was a long time ago.”

“I think you underestimate the power of female friendships.” 

You wear a soft smile that makes Joel’s heart ache a little harder. He takes a good look at you, seeing you up close for the first time. There are hints of the girl he knew back in Austin but she’s buried under years of hard living. 

You’re the same age Sarah would have been today. The same age he was when he lost everything. 

You sigh and scratch awkwardly at your neck. 

“Listen, I’m sorry about…all that shit I said. It’s…” you trail off and he’s sure you’re still mad at him, deep down. 

“I reckon I’m the one that owes an apology. I shouldn’t’ve left you back there. Sarah begged me not to,” he admits. “I was trying to keep her safe. But I fucked that up, too.” 

“That’s not true. I was just angry,” you tell him. 

“I was always so pissed at your parents for not caring enough about you. Turns out I was just as bad,” he says. 

He hadn’t given any thought to the choice he made all those years ago. His priority was his family and he had no room for the rest of humanity. Joel didn’t realize until he saw your face again just how selfish that had made him. The past months he’s been haunted by the thought of it, a young thing all alone in the chaos. If Sarah’s watching over him, which sometimes he hopes she is, she’d be ashamed. 

“I’ve had a lot of time to think since I got here and…I don’t blame you. I’m not your kid. It just—“ You laugh without humor. “God, it’s so stupid but I had a huge crush on you.”

Joel’s eyebrows shoot up. You fiddle with the chipped handle on your mug.

“I know. I was just a kid but I was head over heels for you,” you say.

Joel can feel himself blushing. It’s a sweet thought. He’s honored in a strange way. He remembers the gravity of Sarah’s crushes– Leonardo DiCaprio, Usher, some guy with a lip ring from one of those punk bands she listened to.

“So when you left me…I was a little heart broken.”

“Shit,” Joel says. 

“I didn’t say that to make you feel bad. I just wanted you to know why I was so hurt,” you tell him, leaning forward in your seat. “You didn’t know any of that. And it’s not fair to hang that over your head. It wasn’t your job to rescue me.”

“Course it was,” Joel responds. “You were just a kid. I let you down.”

You look at him gratefully and a tear slips down your cheek. It takes a minute for you to fully take that in and it seems like something you’ve needed to hear. 

“Joel. I forgive you,” you tell him. 

A thick knot forms in his throat. 

There’s a litany of names in his mind, so many people he’s failed. Henry and Sam. Tess. Sarah. He’s never expected to be absolved of any of his sins, he doesn't deserve to be forgiven. But those three words make him feel lighter, like he can stop beating himself up. At least for a moment. 

He tucks his chin into his chest trying to keep his own tears from spilling over. Your hand slips over his, a gentle, reassuring touch. 

The two of you stay like that for a little while, crying together, then becoming reacquainted. You talk for a long time. There’s a lot of catching up to do but the conversation keeps coming back to Sarah. It’s a gift to share memories of her, to hear stories that he’s never heard. You knew Sarah better than anyone in the world— her favorite store in the mall, what she wanted for her birthday. Her hopes, her dreams, her fears. No fourteen year old goes to her daddy with her problems. You were there for her, though. Right up until the end. 

“I, um, you should have this,” you say. “Well, it’s yours.”

You and Joel have migrated to the couch in the living room as the afternoon has crept on. You reach into your back pocket, a little reluctant, and pull something out. 

It’s a photograph, dog eared and creased from years of being carried with you. Joel recognizes the picture— you and him and Sarah, all three of you donning life jackets, smiling as you float on a calm river. He and Tommy took Sarah kayaking and she asked if you could tag along. It was a wonderful day. Blue, cloudless sky. 

The last time he saw the photo it was hanging under a magnet on the refrigerator in the kitchen. 

“How’d…”

“I stayed in your house for a while. After. Just kind of hoping you might come back. I took that when I left. And I ate all your food,” you say with a little chuckle. You wipe some snot from your nose. “I guess…well, you probably don’t have a lot of pictures of her.”

You’re right. There was an outdated school photograph in his wallet when they left that night and it had been too painful to look at for years. It still stings a little but it feels easier to share with someone, someone that knew her so well. 

“You sure?” he asks. 

You nod. “I know where to find it.”

He props the picture up on the coffee table so you can both look at it and meditate on that day when everything felt so perfect. 

“Remember we made you play “Crazy in Love” on on repeat the whole way there?” you ask. 

“I still get that goddamn song stuck in my head,” he complains. 

You laugh and rest your head on his shoulder. The familiar gesture cracks something open inside of him. He’s taken back to his favorite nights when he’d watch a movie with Sarah and she’d cuddle against him. Somehow the memory doesn’t hurt as much as he anticipates. 

You sit like that, looking at the picture, both quiet, your smiles fading as you remember what’s happened since. 

“Sometimes I think I see her,” he chokes. 

He’s never told anyone that. But it seems like you might understand, He trusts you won’t meet his admission with a pitying smile. 

“How’s she look?” you ask. 

He can’t help but chuckle. He nods. 

You don’t say anything, you just burrow your head a little deeper into him. Joel puts a gentle kiss in your hair. 

You’re a fixture in the Miller house once again, part of the family. You babysit for Maria and tell her embarrassing stories about Tommy. You and Ellie tease Joel relentlessly. You sit with him in the evenings, sometimes singing along when he pulls out his guitar, other nights neither of you speak at all.

Slowly, you find yourself falling in love with him all over again. It’s not the same infatuation you harbored when you were young. You’re both different people. And you hardly knew him back then. Not really. What did a fourteen year old know about grown men?

The two of you fall into an easy rhythm. After being alone for such a long time, it’s magical to have a companion. Joel seems grateful for the company, too. He’s there whenever you turn around, like a promise. He’s not leaving you behind even if you’re just going from the stables to the library. 

Neither of you acknowledge it, this easy rapport. A light squeeze on your shoulder, holding your hand when you get misty eyed. He probably doesn’t mean anything by it but you’re pretty sure you can’t live without it. You bask in the sweetness of these exchanges, trying not to think too hard about the fact that you used to spend Saturday nights giggling on his daughter’s bedroom floor. 

He’s still Mr. Miller, after all. 

Autumn comes and you’re inseparable. You realize just how much when you convince him to attend the children’s choir performance in town. You expect him to demure. Watching kids being kids must be painful. But he’s by your side in the dining hall as the little ones sing “Clementine” and “Oh Susanna”. 

He puts his arm around your shoulder so you can lean into him. It might just be a paternal gesture, maybe you’re still a little girl in his eyes. That’s ok with you if he keeps absentmindedly massaging your upper arm. You can’t remember the last time you felt so safe, so loved. 

Afterwards, he walks you home and you’re in such a good mood, you start singing to yourself.

“Johnny Cash,” he says approvingly. 

You laugh to yourself. “You know, I started listening to him ‘cause of you. You had his CD in your truck,” you admit.  

You wanted to like all of the things Joel liked. He would think you were so interesting and grown up because you knew all the words to “Riders in the Sky.”

“Least I was a good influence,” Joel says, shaking his head, his cheeks turning pink. 

He’s so handsome when he blushes, you feel a little giddy when you come to stop in front of the old pharmacy. 

“G’night, darlin’,” he says, giving your hand one last squeeze. 

He waits. He’ll stand here and watch you get inside like he always does. He doesn’t need to— it’s not like people even lock their doors in Jackson— but he’s insisted on it so fervently that you stopped arguing. 

You shouldn’t do it. It’s so silly. But there’s a softness in his eyes and his gentle touch still tingles on your arm. His salt and pepper hair is caught in the string lights that line the empty street. You can’t help yourself.  

You kiss him, smoothing your palms up the front of his flannel until you sink your fingers into the curls at the base of his neck. The tip of his nose is cold from the chill in the evening air but his lips are warm and sweet. 

You haven’t had a whole lot of experience kissing. You’d just started doing it when the outbreak happened and things haven’t been very romantic since. This is one of the better ones. Relatively chaste but unbearably tender. Certainly better than you could have imagined all those years ago. 

It lasts longer than you expect. Joel kisses you back. He rests his hand on your waist and the way it covers so much of your back makes you swoon. Soon, though, he’s pulling away, cradling your cheek. 

“We shouldn’t do that,” he says.

“I know,” you sigh. You’re reluctant to break away, savoring the brush of his nose against yours. 

It’s all wrong but you’re not ashamed for trying it. 

“Just once. I’ve always wanted to,” you say. 

He presses his lips into your forehead. It feels bittersweet. A kiss you longed for for twenty years came and went. 

You wave to him from the door before you go in for the night. 

That kiss confirms Joel’s fears.

He’s spent months convincing himself that this is completely platonic. He would never have feelings for his daughter’s best friend. Even if he always wants to be around you.   

He’s looking after you, comforting you, protecting you. He’s making up for those years that he made you suffer through. You forgave him but he’ll never stop atoning. 

And then you kissed him. 

Suddenly, he’s buried in an avalanche of thoughts he’s been disavowing. 

You’re pretty and soft. You're strong and you ease the pain of his memories. You make him feel a little less alone. 

The warmth of your lips, your body pressed to his. He was ready to lose himself in you. 

That’s when he heard it. 

It was Sarah’s voice chiding him with all the reasons why this is wrong. 

She’s been in his head, his inner critic since the day she died, pointing out every failure and weakness in him. He could picture her looking down on him with disgust. She’s the same age as your daughter. She was just a kid when you met her. She deserves better than you. 

He’s making the same mistake as before, letting his instinct get the better of him. The responsible part of him takes control. He can’t give you any more reasons to try and kiss him again. 

If Joel is good at one thing it’s denying himself. 

He backs off and you can sense it, he knows you do. Sometimes he catches you looking at him and there’s a longing in your eye. It fucking kills him but it’s just another reason why he’s no good for you. 

Despite whatever it does to you, you haven’t got anybody else in Jackson so you stick around. He can only imagine how much it hurts you. 

“Why did I go north?” you complain when Joel opens the front door. You’re holding a scarf tight around your neck, shivering against the cold. The sky is a dismal shade of gray, snowfall on the horizon. 

Joel gets you in the house with a chuckle. He starts a fire, a luxury you little apartment doesn’t afford. You shiver in front of the hearth. 

“Traded for this,” you say, pulling a thick book out of your coat and tossing it onto the coffee table. 

“Oh good. I was looking for some light reading material,” Ellie quips from her spot on the couch.  

“It’s a dictionary,” you explain, “so you’ll quit cheating at Boggle.”

“You're in trouble now,” Joel laughs. 

“I don’t cheat. I just know more words than you guys,” she says. 

“Dentment is not a word,” you reply. 

“Neither is thoard,” Joel says. 

“Sure it is. I’m about to thoard the two of you in this game,” she says.

This should be enough. A winter day by the fire. The simple joy of a board game. Laughter. This is practically a normal life. 

But each time Joel’s eyes fall on you, there’s a pang in his chest. You’re just close enough that he could reach out and touch you but he won’t. He can’t.  

When the sun sets, Ellie retreats to her room. Eventually, you fall asleep on the couch, wrapped up in a quilt as the fire dies down. You look even younger, curled up serenely. There’s no worry on your brow. Usually your face is in a perpetual frown even when you’re not in a mood.   

The snow is already knee deep with no signs of slowing. There’s no sense in sending you back out there. 

Joel scoops you up as gently as he can. He feels his age, back straining, but he doesn’t mind. He enjoys how you nestle your face into his chest as he mounts the stairs, warm and snug in his arms. A smile pulls at his lips. 

He sets you down carefully on his bed and you whimper groggily at the loss of his touch. Your eyes crack open. 

“Snowing pretty bad. Sleep here. I’ll be on the couch,” he whispers. 

“Stay,” you murmur. 

He hesitates. Carrying you to bed was already crossing a line. He’s not worried about keeping his hands to himself. He’s been able to control himself for this long. If he lays down next to you, feeling you warming his sheets, smelling the peppermint soap on your skin, he’ll be so far gone for you, there’ll be no coming back. 

But denying you this simple request feels cruel. He imagines you waking up here all alone. You’re half asleep but what if you remember asking him to remain only to be abandoned again?  

He gets into bed, still fully clothed and careful to stay on his side. His jaw is clenched so tightly his teeth hurt. You give a satisfied hum and sink back into sleep, your body melting into the mattress. 

Joel watches you for a moment, fights the urge to put a kiss on your forehead. He crosses his arms and stares at the ceiling, beginning to tangle with the web of emotions that accompany you. Once it gets too confusing, he drifts off as well. 

When you reach out for him in your sleep, he can’t deny you. Joel tries his hardest to pretend it doesn’t feel good, that this isn’t something he’s wanted to do. So he imagines the nightmares that come to you. Reminds himself that you wouldn’t have seen any of that shit if he hadn’t left you for dead. Now that you're in his arms, he’ll make sure nothing touches you ever again. The least he can do is hold you and make sure it goes no further. 

You both find reasons that you should stay the night. Neither of you acknowledge it. Joel just hands you one of his t-shirts and busies himself as you slip out of your clothes and get under the covers. It’s all rather innocent, Joel does more than rub your back even though you sometimes feel his morning wood through his sweatpants. If he wants you, he doesn’t let himself have you. And he could. 

It’s fine with you if cuddling is all this is. You don’t try to do anything more than that, unwilling to upset the unspoken agreement between you. You can be satisfied with a broad, firm chest to rest your back against. Sleep is better beside him, his heart beats guiding your own. The weight of his arm draped across you makes your body feel deliciously heavy.  

After a while, though, it happens. 

Joel’s having a nightmare. His murmurs and restless movements wake you. His mouth twitches and his brow is creased. You smooth circles into his shoulder until his eyes open. Even in the darkness you can see the despair in them. 

He blinks, coming back to reality, remembering he’s not wherever his dreams took him. You brush your fingers through his hair, gazing at one another as his breaths even out. Normally, his age is obvious– the lines in his forehead, the sun spots on his cheek– yet right now he looks young. Like a boy that needs to sleep with a night light. 

You’re not sure who initiates but you find each other in the dark. At first he’s not kissing you at all, his lips are just brushing your cheek or your nose. It’s sweet and gentle. You try to hold in a moan, worried that any noise might shatter this moment. 

The kisses are timid as if you’re both waiting for someone to stop this. Joel lets out a shuddering breath against you. This is a bad idea, you’re both thinking it. After you kissed him the last time, he held you at arms length. When this blows up, you’ll lose him entirely. But you need to be closer to him. 

You open your mouth to him, tangle your legs between his. His hand slides under your shirt, roaming your bare skin. You thought that snuggling under the blanket was enough but now you realize just how hungry you’ve been to be touched. Really touched. He needs it too. Joel leans into your hand on his jaw with a whimper. 

You don’t open your eyes. You might be the one dreaming and you don’t want to wake up. 

It’s quiet, just the sound of hot breaths and desperate kisses, the swish of the sheets as you shift your hips to meet his. You keep yourself from rocking against him, try to enjoy the feeling of him without crossing yet another line, but you’re aching. His shirt has ridden up so you feel the softness of his middle, the light hairs on his chest. Your fingers intertwine with his as his mouth trails down the column of your neck and. Joel buries his face there. 

“I’m sorry,” he breathes. 

You’re not sure what he’s apologizing for. This? Then? The years in between? None of it matters because you want to live in this moment forever. 

You shush him, pull him back to your mouth. You’re ready to lose yourself, to forget, to ignore the storm of thoughts constantly plaguing your mind. This is all you want. 

You peel off your clothing, helping him slide out of his sweatpants until there’s nothing between you. Joel’s skin is warm and soft against you and you realize you’ve never been this close to another soul. 

When Joel settles over you and you feel him throbbing between his legs, you shiver with nervous anticipation. You expect him to say something, to warn you that this is a bad idea, to promise this won’t change anything. But his brown eyes look as confused with need as you feel. There’s no room for thinking or it will crush this fragile moment like glass. 

You tilt your hips to allow him in, already slick from being so close to him. 

Slowly, he enters you, kissing you all the while. He makes a choked sound, wincing as his body stills. The noise makes you clench around him. 

Together you take a moment to get your bearings and you adjust to the fullness of him. Joel’s eyes are pressed shut, his teeth digging into his bottom lip. 

Before he begins to move, his thumb finds your clit, grazing it lightly. After years of solitude and now months being just out of reach of him, the sensation makes you gasp sharply. 

You’ve had sex a handful of times. They had been more about fulfilling a self destructive urge than a desire for pleasure. It’s never been like this. 

You start to lose sense of everything but the feelings of your body. Your core tenses and your breaths go short and you start to forget that it’s Joel whose hips are stuttering into you. It’s as if this euphoria can erase some of those awful memories. 

Soon you’re shattering beneath him, a crescendo that has you tugging on his hair and gasping for air. Joel grunts into your ear. He follows after you, hissing as he pulls out of you. He pulses into his hand, his release dripping from his fist onto your sweat damp skin. Then he collapses onto you. You run your fingers through his long curls and he kisses your forehead. There might be tears in your eyes– maybe his too. It’s too dark to be sure– but when his breath evens out, it still sounds ragged against you.

Eventually he gets out of bed and leaves the room and, in that moment, you can feel everything hanging over your head again– what you’ve just done, the horrors of the world. Perhaps even more intense than before. 

But Joel returns quickly. He flicks on the light on his bed side table and cleans you with a damp rag. His touch is gentle, reverent, and his dark eyes travel over your naked skin to yours. There’s a question in them, guilt, but you have no regrets. You smooth your hand out on the sheets beside you and he lays back on his pillow. He surrounds you with his massive arms and you fall asleep grateful that you don’t feel abandoned anymore.

You worry that it was just a one time thing, try to accept that it might never happen again. But the next time you share Joel’s bed, he’s pulling you into him, pressing kisses into your shoulder, nuzzling at the spot behind your ear. His hard length prods at the small of your back. 

It starts like that every time. Intimate, sensual, quiet. It’s never tearing his clothes off or pushing you up against a wall. You just stay close, breath each other in, trail fingertips across skin. Neither of you ever speak above a whisper.  

Joel barely talks at all except to ask, “That too much?” and “Feel good?” 

You live for the moments when his hand skates over your hip, his dark eyes soft. 

“Pretty,” he says almost to himself. 

He’s such a beautiful man. Your fingers trace the smooth plane of his chest, dusted lightly with hair and a few stray freckles. Age has only improved him. The greys in his stubble catch the glow from the lamp on the nightstand. You study him with the same attention to detail you used in your youth. The cleft in his bottom lip, the dimples on his lower back, the scar on his temple. You’ve memorized it all. 

Joel breaks open for you. He lets you see him vulnerable. He’ll fuck you with thrusts that shake loose deep emotions. Just as quickly, he’ll hold you together when it feels like you’re falling apart. 

You lay with him after, sticky with the shared heat of your bodies but reluctant to roll away and break the connection. 

Whatever this is, you don’t speak its name. There are too many questions and conflicts that it might not withstand. It exists only for you and him. A safe haven in the chaos, a bit of respite at the end of long years. 

In his arms, you’re not his dead daughter’s best friend. He’s not the man that left you when you needed him most. You’re just two people that need to not be alone. Each time, it’s the same. The overwhelming bliss of Joel making love to you is second only to the understanding that he’s finally come back for you. 

Thanks for reading! I'd love to hear from you. Comments and reblogs always appreciated.

[madeofbees]

i’m not even a person, i’m just a bunch of traumas stacked on top of each other in a trench coat made of fandoms.

personality ? me ? no no, that’s just season 4 of community. common mistake though !

[gay-dorito-dust]

How’d they react to you calling them bro or dude whilst in a pre-established relationship…(platonic/romantic)

Dick: he’s insulted.

Gutted.

He will try to give you the silent treatment for such a shameful thing but ultimately fails as he ends up being the one pawing at you for attention.

‘Do you still like me? Or did you just run out of cute nicknames to call me?’ He’d say one night as your both cuddling in bed together. ‘If it’s the later then I can help you find something, just please spare me and don’t call me dude or bro anymore.’

He’d rather you call him Richard-wait, no he hates that even more because to him you’re not meant to use his fully name, only cutesy nicknames that’d make a grown man sick to his stomach. Nothing else would suffice other than Dickie bird, handsome, babe, hunk, honeybun or anything that wasn’t his name.

He’s go mad or would act delusional and say that everything was fine when everyone could tell that it wasn’t. People who know him have personally came to you and begged you to stop calling him dude/bro because he kept talking their ears off about how his beloved partner is torturing him, which ends up torturing them even more upon hearing about his relationship issues.

Dick would even consult Hayley on what he did wrong, only for Hayley to look at him with those big, big eyes of hers. This was not her level of expertise unfortunately. (Head empty, no thoughts. She can’t do her abc’s guys it’s a real tragedy.)

Jason: ‘I just had my tongue down your throat just now and you had to go and ruin the mood by calling me bro. What the fuck.’ - Jason at some point.

It’s a whole mood killer for him to be honest.

He’s calling you things like chipmunk or sweetheart but here you were calling him dude and bro. He knows for a fact that he’s well and truly out of the friend zone because the shit you’ve done together isn’t platonic in any sort of way.

Thinks Roy had set you up to call him dude or bro behind his back. (He hasn’t)

Jason is petty and will get his own back by referring you as ‘just a really good friend’, ‘buddy o’ mine’ or even worse than both of those; ‘chum.’ 💀

When you go low, Jason was more then willing to go to the depths of fucking hell to the point it had become a game to see who’d call out just how stupid this all was, and at the both of you for ever thinking that this was an excellent idea in the first place.

You’ll probs get punished…I’m just going to leave it there and let your minds guess what that ‘punishment’ was exactly.

Damian:

As much as Damian hates it when you call him Dami, he hates it when you call him dude or bro even more, if that’s even possible.

Damian hates it when you call him dude or bro. He’s not your dude or bro, he’s your partner and he expects no less then darling, my heart or my beloved.

So you calling him dude or bro is more than enough reason for him to give you the silent treatment.

‘Until you learn that I am your partner, I won’t want to be anywhere near you if you’re going to keep calling me your bro or dude. It is a disservice to who I actually am to you.’ He says with a huff and beckons Titus to follow, only for the Great Dane to be left confused as to why his human parents were at a disagreement over something silly.

Also Titus, Ace, Jerry, Alfred the cat, Goliath and BatCow are children of divorce because I said so.

So it’s bests that you apologise while you still can because Damian can hold a grudge unlike any other. Even if you didn’t, you’d still crack first before Damian and quickly put an end to calling him dude/bro.

He just thinks being called a dude/bro when in a pre-established relationship is an insult.

He can take a joke but not when it’s aimed at his relationship. He’s well and truly devoted to his relationship -if we’re to completely ignore the whole being Robin thing- that it might as well be an insult towards him too at this point.

[princessbrunette]

dilf john b with a prickly beard eating you out and the hairs on his face keep touching your thighs and making you sensitive hmmm..

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ ౨ৎ⋆ ˚｡⋆

i like the idea of dilf john b being a separate universe to dbf!john b. instead, he’s just some random dilf you picked up that you’d grown rather attached to. i’d spoken about this a loooong time ago, how he’s just some local guy who frequents at the restaurant you waitress at. he’s always there with some friends going over what looks like maps and other blueprints, but his eyes always linger on you when you pass— smiling at you kindly in his front facing baseball cap and printed shirts and something about him just made you trust him. one thing leads to another and soon he’s the only man you can fuck, because no one else has experience like john b. no one can make you cum like john b.

you’re staying at his house, it’s the middle of the night — you’re hot, too hot, squirming on your back in just his tshirt as he tries to sate your squirmy and whiny mood by eating you out. maybe you’re just hypersensitive to everything, or overstimulated but the feeling of his stubble growing in was making you extra tearful — the short hairs making your thighs sore and pussy sensitive.

“oww, john b!” you cry out for the third time in the past few minutes. the man pulls back just slightly to press a soothing kiss to your lower belly, smoothing a hand up your skin to comfort you.

“mm, i know. i’m here bubba.” his voice is warm and deep, weathered by the years just a tad that made it rumble just that little bit more. you let out a squeak with your bottom lip between your teeth, your legs falling open limp.

“s’hurting me. so scratchy.” you’re so wound up you can barely talk, sweaty and flustered and he’s just being so patient with you that it’s making your stomach hurt.

“i thought you liked the stubble. hm?” he chuckles, taking a break between your legs to kiss back up your body until he reaches your face, smearing your own juices on your cheek as he kisses you all over. you groan, and he wipes it away with his hands.

“i do. m’just sore.” you complain, and his gentle smile doesn’t budge. it never seems to, not when he’s with you anyway.

“how can i make that all better, sweet girl? you still wanna cum for me? or do you wanna cuddle up and get some rest?” he communicates and you feel like crying at the idea of stopping.

“wanna cum. wanna cum so badly.” you sniffle and he nods.

“okayokay— can still do that for you sweetheart. take some deep breaths, yeah? not doing this if it stops being fun for you angel. i can’t.” he keeps his tone kind as to not set you off.

you suck in a shaky breath and nod. “okay.” you whisper and he kisses you on the centre of your forehead.

“good girl. gonna rub that pretty clit now, kay? make it all better? that alright?” he raises his brows, and even in the dark you can see the way his forehead creases up with weathered lines. you lick your lips, tasting yourself on them still from the kiss you shared and nod once more. no one could do it like dilf!johnb.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ ౨ৎ⋆ ˚｡⋆

[little-diable]

Let Me Love You - Draco Malfoy (smut)

It seems like many of us are back on the Draco Malfoy train taking us straight to hell, so I needed to add another fic to this very mess. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The reader and Draco are sworn enemies, at least that’s what she like to believe. But what happens when they have to share a bed at their friend’s wedding? What happens when he finally lets her in on the feelings that leave her confused and unsure of her own feelings?

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected piv, enemies to lovers, one bed trope, quite some fluff

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x fem!reader (2.6k words)

“What?” Her voice echoed through the hallway, eyes set on her friend’s features. (Y/n)’s blood was singing in her ears, telling a tale of confusion, anger, and helplessness. 

“Oh come on, (y/n), it’s just for a weekend, he’s not half as bad as you think he is!” Her friend's laughter didn’t manage to drown out the thoughts racing through (y/n)’s mind, trying to figure out how to leave in front of her eyes without using any magic, protecting her friend's obliviousness. 

“Stace, I love you, but he’s an absolute git. I won’t survive sharing a room with him.” With an exhausted sigh leaving her, (y/n)’s eyes fluttered close, just for a moment. How could she survive sharing a room with Draco Malfoy? The man she’s hated ever since crossing paths with him at Hogwarts all these years ago. Even after she had left the school her hatred had grown, having to endure working for the same company as him. But it felt like fate kept playing tricks on her, pushing (y/n) into the same group of friends Draco called his own. 

It was a constant back and forth between the two of them. A back and forth that left her boiling in anger, jaw clenched together whenever he teased her in front of their shared friends, making jokes that pushed waves of heat through her trembling body. And now she was supposed to share a room with him? 

“Look who’s finally here, I was waiting for your arrival, love.” Draco’s voice rang in her ears, lips pulled into the smirk she hated almost as much as she hated Draco himself. Slowly she turned towards him, teeth buried in her lower lip to keep her angry words bottled in, at least as long as their friend was still around.

“See, (y/n), I told you Draco doesn’t mind sharing a room with you, please just do it, for me. It’s my wedding after all.” 

……

“You insufferable git. Was this your idea?” (Y/n)’s angry voice boomed through the big hotel room, angry eyes set on Draco’s grinning features. He studied her for a few seconds, moving closer and closer till he came to rest in front of her. No words left the blonde haired man as his hand cupped her cheek, feeling the heat flushing through (y/n)’s veins. 

“Now, don’t be like that, we both know you’ve been waiting for this to happen for years. No need to hide your crush on me. I’m not blind, I feel your eyes on me, love.” His raspy voice shot shudders down her spine, forcing the hairs to rise on her arms. (Y/n)’s mouth felt dry, stomach in knots, just like her vocal cords. No word managed to roll off her tongue, allowing Draco’s thumb to start exploring her cheek, finding its way to her mouth. “No matter how much you try to hide it, your body can’t stop longing for me.”

“Don’t you dare touch me again, Malfoy.” (Y/n) finally managed to rip herself out of her state, having to turn away from him to try to calm her accelerated breathing. With her heart pounding in her chest she started unpacking her bag, desperately hoping that he’d lose interest in teasing her. 

“I’d advise you to pull yourself together. We don’t want you to mess up our friends' big day.” No longer did Draco’s voice carry its teasing undertone, it was back to the icy tone she’s been used to ever since arriving at Hogwarts all these years ago. She froze, eyes flickering up to meet his bright ones, getting lost in the pupils that reminded her of a frozen lake, longings buried beneath the thick blanket of ice they couldn’t escape from. Draco turned away from her after a few moments, reaching for his black coat before he wordlessly left the room.

With a groan clawing through her, (y/n) plopped down on the bed she was supposed to share with him. Her thoughts couldn’t stop racing, once again wondering where the root of all her anger and hatred towards Draco Malfoy was lying, growing stronger with every passing week. And yet she couldn’t pinpoint it on a single event, only able to remember the teasing words rolling off his tongue, embarrassing her in front of new students, pulling pranks on her to prove his worth to those that looked up to him. 

She’d have to pull herself together before the weekend would end with her hands covered in Draco’s blood, finally snapping after all these horrible years, burying the handsome man six feet under.

……

“Green has always been your colour, love.” His breath fanned over the back of her neck, lips ghosting over the soft skin of her shoulder. Draco stood behind (y/n), hand placed on her waist as the other guests around them listened to one speech after another. A shaky inhale of air was pulled into her lungs, lips finding their way back to the thin rim of her champagne glass, drowning another sip of alcohol. 

Ever since this afternoon she had tried to avoid Draco, not daring to cross paths with the man that made her feel more emotions than all the words she knew could ever describe. It was clear to the both of them that he held a dark kind of magic over her body and soul, a spell she wasn’t familiar with, forced to endure. And yet - deep down inside of her - she didn’t want to break free from the back and forth glueing the two of them together. 

(Y/n) couldn’t stop her eyes from rolling as Draco’s quiet chuckles rang in her ears, finally pulling away from her. But her peace was soon disturbed once again, pulled into his chest, back perfectly placed against his front. Draco kept his arm wrapped around her middle, smiling at those guests that turned towards the two of them every now and then.

“What are you doing, Malfoy?” He took her glass from her hand, keeping quiet as he started guiding her towards the dance floor. Soft music reverberated through the room, allowing other couples to sway from left to right, couples that looked more in love than she’s ever been, wondering what being admired like this must feel like. She followed Draco’s lead, wondering why the man kept swaying her from left to right, forcing her to dance with him as if they were just another couple invited to the wedding of their friends. 

“You see, even though you like to give off the impression of hating me, I don’t think you actually hate me.” Draco whispered the words, lips teasing her ear before he twirled her around, pulling (y/n) even closer. She felt his heart pounding in his chest, beating against the rib cage she felt underneath her trembling hand.

“And why is that? You’ve been nothing but horrible towards me, I have every right to hate you.” He studied her, intensely as if she was a canvas filled with colours his icy eyes have never seen before. Her eyes threatened to flutter close, unable to withstand the intense eye contact. 

“Don’t act as if you weren’t just as hateful towards me, I simply followed your lead. I'd rather have you hate me than not care about me at all.” With her breath hitched in her chest she stared at him, pupils dilated, heart pounding, insides churning. Her thoughts couldn’t come up with a reply, wondering if he was once again teasing her, speaking lies she now clung to as if they were her lifeline. 

The music stopped playing, just for a few seconds, though seconds long enough for Draco to step away from her, clearing his throat before he blended in with the crowd. It took (y/n) almost a full minute to break out of her thoughts, the state his words have forced her into. Desperate for fresh air she pushed through the crowd, glassy eyes focused on the exit.  

She didn’t know what to believe, confused by the words that sounded more sincere than any other words Draco has ever spoken before. Could it be? Could it be that he wasn’t clinging onto the hate she was oh so certain he felt towards her? 

……

Draco didn’t return that night, he didn’t enter their shared room like she secretly had hoped he would, deciding to stay away from the woman that would probably once again force him into a useless fight. Anxiety thumped through her veins as (y/n) entered the breakfast hall of the hotel, finding her way to the table where Draco was already sitting, pulled into a conversation by a couple (y/n) hasn’t crossed paths with just yet.

“Good morning.” Her soft voice interrupted the conversation, forcing all eyes to snap towards her. Wordlessly Draco pulled the chair next to his away, helping her sit down before he turned back towards the couple. But by then the two of them seemed distracted, focusing on another approaching couple. 

“Where were you last night?” (Y/n)’s whispers forced Draco’s eyes back towards her. He studied her, eyes flickering between her pupils and her mouth, the lips she nervously kept biting. With his hand finding her knee he reached for his cup of tea, drowning a few sips before a silent sigh left him. 

“I stayed with Mark.” She was waiting for an explanation, wondering why he had decided to stay away, but no further word left Draco, eyes focusing on hers for a few more seconds before he turned away. Her heart was pounding, forcing her hand to find his, interlacing their fingers before she rose to her feet with a quiet “Come” leaving her. 

Draco allowed her to pull him out of the hall, down the hallway towards their shared room. They were engulfed by an unfamiliar silence, atmosphere crackling like a fire feasting from old branches, warming them from inside. She parted from him to sit down on the bed she had slept in, fumbling with her fingers as she stumbled over her words. 

“Did you mean it? Did you mean what you said yesterday?” Draco kept his distance, not daring to step closer just yet as a soft “I did” left his slightly parted lips. His words forced (y/n) to lift her gaze, admiring his features. “I don’t know how I feel about this. You’ve always been mean to me, and I guess I just gave in, because I didn’t want to hide from you or your friends. You’ve hurt me, but I guess I wasn’t any better.” 

Draco stepped closer, cupping her cheek like he had done yesterday afternoon, once again pushing waves of heat through her trembling body. He moved slowly, tilting his head down to brush his lips against hers, nothing more than a ghost of a touch. (Y/n) forced herself closer, properly kissing Draco for the first time. 

Their lips moved in sync, a touch so burning, so intense, both couldn’t stop their moans from leaving one another. Her arms found their way around his neck, gasping in surprise as he sat down next to her, forcing (y/n) to sit in his lap. Their tongues fought for dominance, while their hands started moving, guided on by the longing now flushing through their system. 

“We need to stop, otherwise I won’t be able to let you go.” Draco murmured his words against her lips, words (y/n) spared no attention to, trembling hands working on his shirt. A chuckle ripped through Draco, tilting her head up to meet his intense gaze. He kissed her again, urged on by the lust keeping them laced together, slowly laying down with (y/n) still straddling his lap. 

“I don’t want you to let me go, I need you to touch me, please Draco.” For the first time in years she didn’t speak his name with any hate fueling her words, murmuring it softly as if she was praying to whoever was listening, sharing her secrets with the dark night. Draco instantly gave in, undoing the zip of her dress, pulling it over her head as he sat up once again, shuffling out of his dress shirt. 

She helped him out of his trousers before she stepped out of her underwear, naked bodies exposed to one another's wandering eyes. Draco pulled her back into his lap, kissing (y/n) breathless as his hand found her heat, feeling her arousal drip from her folds. The two were a moaning mess, bodies begging them to give in, to finally feel one another in the most intimate way imaginable. With her trembling hand finding his twitching cock, (y/n) aligned his cock with her heat, parting from the kiss to force another breath of air into her burning lungs. 

“Fuck,” the curse slowly rolled off Draco’s tongue as she sank down on his cock, walls clenching around him in a desperate attempt to adjust. His hands kept exploring her body, stroking up and down her sides, cupping her breasts as (y/n) slowly started moving. Draco supported her every move, forcing her down for another kiss, hips jerking up to meet hers. 

Neither of them cared about the friends that were probably looking for them, neither of them cared about the unaddressed confessions hanging in the air, begging to be spoken. All they cared about was the way their bodies perfectly fit together, forming a bond so strong both struggled to keep on breathing. 

“Feels so good, shit, I feel so full.” (Y/n)’s whispers forced a shaky breath out of Draco, drowning out her surprised gasp as he tightened his grasp on her, flipping them around. He fucked her into the mattress, hand finding the headrest of the bed to try and keep himself controlled, not daring to mark her up just yet. 

Their moans reverberated through the air, urging them on to climb higher and higher, wanting to finally give into the intense feeling simmering deep inside of them. Every now and then their lips found back together, sharing breathless kisses that were interrupted by their moans, by their groans, sounds that clearly projected their every need. 

“Such a tight cunt, fuck, my pretty girl, you feel so good.” His praises left (y/n) burning with heat thumping through her, eyes rolling back in her head as his cold fingers found her clit, carefully circling the bundle of nerves. With her back arched off the mattress and her quivering legs wrapped around his waist, she gave in, choking on his name, begging him to fuck her through her high. 

Draco’s body kept meeting hers, only pulling out of her as he felt himself tumbling over the edge, relieving himself on her lower stomach with a groan. Their hearts were racing, lungs begging for more air, bodies trembling, a feeling so intense kept holding them hostage that neither of them managed to break through the cloud of lust they were still engulfed by. 

“I don’t know how we’ll explain this to our friends.” Her whispers left Draco chuckling, plopping down next to her. Their eyes met before another laugh left the two, letting go of a “Fuck” begging to leave them. 

“We will definitely have to endure their ‘I told you so’, but I’m more than okay with that.”

[ultram0th]

“I’m telling you, Dude,” Justin Howells vented to his workout bud as the both of them ran on the treadmills for cardio day, “his staring is getting to the point where I’m thinking about talking to the owner.” 

Justin was annoyed about how when he’d walked into the locker room because he’d forgotten his reusable water bottle, he’d spotted Dave near his stuff. It wasn’t that Dave was a bad guy or anything. The 40ish year old man had been a competitive bodybuilder back in his prime, but after years of no longer competing, he’d grown a sizable muscle gut that gave him more of a bearish appearance— and he’d made it clear that he found the fitness influencer very attractive.

Justin carried on, not only pissed that he’d been under the impression that he’d caught Dave trying to mess with his stuff (he didn’t have any proof unfortunately), but that the ex-bodybuilder was across the gym at the barbells, not even trying to hide the fact that he was blatantly staring at Justin as he ran.

His friend, Mike, just grunted, too focused on his run than anything.

Justin went on though, mainly so that he could clear his head of all the rage he was feeling. “And the fuckin’ weirdo tries to play it off all cool,” he huffed, feeling his meaty pecs bouncing as he continued to run shirtless. “I tried to confront him, but he shoved my water bottle at me, as if he’d known that I’d go back for it.”

“…yeah, isn’t that something…” Mike panted.

Justin rolled his eyes as he grabbed his water bottle, unscrewing the top as he ran so that he could keep his heart rate up. “No lying, man, next time that roidhead messes with me…” he trailed off and took a sip from his water bottle, the cool liquid sending an odd tingling sensation throughout the stud. He ignored it and swallowed, his mouth feeling like he’d just licked a D battery.

He noticed Dave’s smile growing larger.

“Next time, what?” Mike teased.

Justin cleared his throat and grunted. “I’m gonna…” he coughed and felt his mouth twitch and his tongue seemingly move on its own, “…suck his cock.”

He paled at the words that left his mouth, having had absolutely zero intention of saying anything even remotely close to that. He’d wanted to say that he’d kick his ass.

Mike flinched and cocked his eyebrow. “Huh?” he asked, slowing down the smallest bit.

Justin Howells shook his head and cleared his throat again, even rubbing at it with a muscled hand. “Um,” he stammered, “I said that I was gonna… suck his big cock so hard until he shoots his fat load down my throat!”

The stud nearly fell off the treadmill in shock and horror. Not only had his mouth seemingly forced those strange words out by itself, but he even shouted it out loud, garnering the attention of a couple of other gym goers who gave him weirded out looks.

“Keep it down!” Mike hissed. “You can’t be joking like that so loudly. People are gonna think you and Dave are some kinda thing.”

Justin struggled to regain his footing, his heart racing in his bare chest. He locked eyes with Dave, who was red in the face as he tried to stifle a laugh. However, the second their eyes met, Justin winced internally as he felt a stirring in his cock.

Dave gave the mortified stud a knowing wink as he performed bicep curls, his massive, hairy muscles bulging with power. He then stood up and began to waddle back towards the locker room, his broad back swaying to and fro.

At the sight of such masculine power, Justin’s cock started to plump up. “Wh-what the fuck… is wrong with my slutty body?” he hissed to himself. He frantically looked around the gym, wanting to wail out as he noticed that the stirring in his loins calmed down whenever he looked at anyone else in the gym, but the second his eyes landed on the older bodybuilder, his cock twitched excitedly and he felt himself flex his asscheeks.

“Justin, you okay?” Mike asked as he looked at the other man’s pale face.

Justin turned to his friend, desperately wanting to tell him that something was horribly wrong— that he couldn’t control his words and that he was getting hard just by looking at Dave. Unfortunately, when Justin opened up his mouth, his mortified ears heard himself say, “I’ll be even better as soon as that muscle daddy fucks my tight hole.”

He didn’t wait for a confused response from Mike. Instead, Justin hopped off the treadmill and stomped his way over towards Dave, his hard cock tenting out the front of his shorts. He knew that something was wrong and based on the knowing look that’d been on Dave’s gruff, handsome, chiseled, stubble-covered face, Dave knew what it was. He rushed into the locker room and stopped right in front of the older bodybuilder and tried to lean over him in a threatening way,  but his his eyes hungrily taking in the sight of the older man’s hairy pecs barely covered by his tank top ruined it.

Dave just smirked back at the red-faced man. “Can I help you, Bud?” he asked in his baritone-filled voice.

At the sound of the deep, manly bass emanating from the bodybuilder’s plump form, Justin felt his cock twitch and start to leak pre-cum. “Your sexy ass better tell me what you did to me,” he hissed, trying to keep his voice down and wincing when he’d outwardly referred to the man as ‘sexy’.

Dave tried to look innocent, but the chuckle that escaped his full lips gave him away. “What do you mean?” he asked. “And you really find me sexy?”

Justin wanted so desperately to lash out at the older man, to demand that he fix whatever the hell was happening to him. His body, however, had other plans.

“You better shove that thick cock up my ass right now!” he barked, his eyes widening at the gay words that left his lips. Straining, he tried again, even clenching his jaw as he struggled to control his own words. “Wh-what… what the fuck d-did… did you do… me… Do me, Daddy!” He stomped his foot in frustration.

“Yeah, maybe later,” Dave winked, making the other man shudder. “First, I’m gonna let you suffer for a bit— I’ve always heard every time you’d talked shit about me in the gym. Well now, I think you’ll find it hard to say anything negative about me at all from now on.”

Justin paled at what Dave had admitted. He had no idea how, but somehow the muscle gut-having bodybuilder had cursed him, forcing him to constantly vocalize his need for the man’s cock, making him sound like some perpetually horny slut. He imagined himself at work or even the grocery store, unable to say anything besides how badly he wanted a man’s huge, veiny cock in his mouth or ass. Worse was that he couldn’t take his eyes off of Dave’s hairy muscles, his own cock painfully hard now.

“You gotta fix this, Daddy!” he begged, even bringing his hands in front of himself. “Please, fuck me in the mouth and let me swallow your cum.” He coughed and tried again. “Let me be your little muscleslut! N-no, fuck my tight hole… lemme suck those muscletits…” He trailed off, starting to feel hopeless. 

Dave stood up and started to head out of the locker room. “I’ll fuck you after my workout,” he promised. “In the meantime, why don’t you go out on the floor and finish what you were doing.”

Justin’s heart raced, but he found his legs moving on their own accord as he strutted back out onto the gym floor.

Mike found him and hurried over. “You alright?” he asked, concerned for his friend. “You rushed off so quickly, I thought you’d gotten sick.”

Justin could feel it bubbling up in his throat. He pleaded with himself to stay quiet, but his mouth started to move all without his say so.

“I’m great, Stud,” he chirped. “I just had to admire Dave’s huge, sexy muscles. They’re so big and manly, especially his massive cock. After my workout I’m gonna let him wreck my tight hole, and then I’m gonna suck him off and ask him to tug on my nips…” The words just kept pouring out of the humiliated stud, and Dave couldn’t help but smirk as he overheard.

[sturnrm]

~ TRUTH OR DARE ~

Chris sturniolo x reader

Warning: drinking, smut SMUT lots of it, p in v

“Truth or dare?”

“Dare.” Chris responds, sitting back in with his legs spread waiting for his dare.

You watch him smiling at his cocky grin towards the random freshman that chose him for truth or dare.

Chris would undoubtedly answer any question or complete any dare thrown his way.

“I dare you to…” The freshman’s voice fades as he looks around the room, trying to think of a dare.

Chris only laughs in response, making a joke about finishing his dare sometime today.

Everyone is laughing including you, eyes still on Chris.

Your lips press to your red plastic cup, taking a sip of the drink matt mixed for you.

Your thoughts are else where, the way Chris is sat reminds you of the night before.

When you were sat in his lap, riding his cock. His lips pressed to your chest, leaving marks that are still there, hidden under your bra, when you were being his good girl and taking his dick.

The freshman takes too long, to the point others begin to suggest dares for chris.

He still hasn’t looked at you,and that’s probably your own fault.

The two of you have been dating secretly for a few months now. He was the one to offer the secrecy to you, as an attempt to keep your perfect reputation.

At first you thought it would be a one time thing so you agreed. Nothing more than a meaningless drunken hook up but after that he had YOU hooked.

You kept coming back for more, until it became a nearly daily occurrence, you craved Chris is was something you never thought you would be saying but it was the truth.

The talk of what you two were never to be had. Feelings growing on both sides, and now here you are. At a party tipsier than you should be.

Staring at him with fuck me eyes, too drunk to care who’s watching. You two exchanged a few smiles, brief conversations as if you two were nothing more than acquaintances.

Which upset you but at the end of the day it’s your fault for making chris feel like he needed to be a secret in the first place.

“I dare you to kiss the prettiest girl in the room.” The freshman finally speaks, louder than everyone in the room. Shutting everyone up as they watch in anticipation of who he will choose.

You too are watching,the only difference is your eyes haven’t left chris all night.

His eyes scan the room, playfully looking at all the different girls. Finally his eyes land on yours, only stopping for a moment before moving on.

Your heart is broken, begging for you to leave the room. In one swift moment he stands up and walks across the room, away from you. Of all the people he could kiss right now, he chooses the worst possible choice. His ex.

Can’t bring your self to watch, looking down at your cup. Your eyes finally leaving the man you’ve been secretly dating for months now.

As people begin to cheer and laugh at the kiss shared between ex lovers. Chris pulls away, viewers chanting for more.

“Nah I did my dare, I’m done. Who’s next?” He chuckles as he plops down onto the couch where he was previously sitting.

The game continues on like you didn’t just witness the man you’ve grown to care for, maybe even love kiss his ex.

You’re a mixture of anger and sadness but self aware enough to know that this is your own doing. It’s all too much so without announcing your departure, you stand up and walk through the crowded room.

You finish off your drink, throw away the evidence and make an attempt to leave the party.

Realizing that you’re entirely fucked, no way to leave. Your home too far to walk, your ride somewhere in the party with absolutely no intention of leaving any time soon.

Annoyed because you only came with your friend because you knew chris would be here, hoping that you showing up would have ended differently.

A frustrated sigh leaves your mouth as you head outside anyways. Deciding to take a moment to breathe before heading back into the party.

Thanking whoever’s listening when you walk out side to an empty porch. Sitting down on the steps, looking out at the silent road filled with unfamiliar houses.

A few cars drive by as time passes.

You sit there staring and thinking about how you ended up here. Alone but having a secret relationship, with a man you’ve grown to love, maybe you wasn’t supposed to end up feeling that way.. inlove, but you was, you was crazy for him.Not even entirely sure if his feelings are mutual.

You’ve been spending so much time with him. Most if not all instances leading to sex. Even when you two aren’t fucking, there’s a connection.

You’ve spent more time at his house than your own home in that last month. He makes you so happy, quickly become the person you run to when you need anything, the person you trust with all your heart.

Doing everything a relationship entails without labeling it.

You’re broken out of your thoughts by the sound of the front door opening and that oh so familiar scent of cologne you’ve grown to love.

Your eyes stay down, looking at your fingers that fiddle with anxiety as he sits next to you.

“I was looking for you.” He speaks, facing you.

“I just needed some air.” You whisper, avoiding eye contact but chris knows better.

Knows that you’re upset at the kiss and too stubborn to admit that.

“Why are you crying?” He asks, touching your chin and tugging at your face to look at him.

You didn’t even realize you were crying, so you wipe away the tears. As a sad attempt to mask your pain.

you plaster a fake smile on your lips.

“I don’t know. It’s stupid. It’s probably cause I’m so drunk.” You force a laugh, wiping away at the remaining tears.

Chris doesn’t laugh and obviously doesn’t buy your excuse.

“Is this because I kissed her and not you?” He questions, and your smile fades as you nod your head in response.

“I didn’t want to kiss her. I just about puked as I did it. Was so close to blowing chunks all over her.” He admits, letting him self laugh at the thought causing you to feel a little better.

“I wanted to kiss you, only you. I just wasn’t sure if you would have been okay with that.. considering we’re just kinda hooking up or whatever this is.

I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable with such a public display of affection.” He further explains, all anger you had dissipating as quickly as it came.

“I wouldn’t have been uncomfortable.” You respond.

“Also was afraid once I started, I wouldn’t be able to stop. I’ve been watching you all night, staring at me with those eyes. Like you want me to drag you upstairs to an empty room and fuck you. Been walking around with a hard on all night, waiting till we can be alone.” He lets out a sheepish laugh, adjusting him self as your eyes are wide.

You’ve been with a few partners before, none of which had such a dirty mouth as chris. Constantly out doing himself on the naughty words that leave his mouth.

“I was not staring at you like that.” You lie, grinning playfully swatting his shoulder.

His laugh only grows, throwing his arm around you. You rest your tired drunken head, into his embrace.

“You’re a shit liar. Tell me what you want.”

“You. I don’t want to this.. us to be a secret anymore.” You admit, looking up at him while his arm is still stretched over your shoulder.

“Yeah?” He asks as he looks down on you.

“Yeah. I want to be the prettiest girl in the room.” You say with no filter. Admitting your drunken insecurities outloud, cringing as soon as it leaves your mouth.

“You are and always will be the prettiest girl in any room. Only now you’ll be my prettiest girl, okay?” He says pressing a simple sweet kiss to your forehead. You nod in response, the biggest grin plastered on your face as if you weren’t sobbing moments ago.

“I think I need to fuck you so good that you forget about that kiss.” He whispers, his lips only a few inches away from yours.

“I think so too.” You say, before closing the distance. Pressing your lips to his, kissing him tenderly. His lips move with yours, as your hands find the back of his neck pulling him closer.

Without thinking about it you slowly lower the two of you until he’s on top of you. Smiling and lettting out a giggle into the kiss as your back hits the cold wet wood of the porch.

“What’s so funny?” He pulls away, just enough to break the kiss.

“The way I was about ready to let you have your way with me outside on this porch. Can we go somewhere else?” You ask, looking up at him while he’s staring at your lips.

He rolls his eyes, getting up off you and standing up. Chris reaches his hand out to which you take letting him help you up.

He leads you back into the house, through the crowd of people. You’re too busy watching the man you’re with to notice the stares. Your man.

He leads you up some stairs, pushing through several people waiting for the restroom to a dark empty bedroom. He pushes you inside, following closely behind.

While you take a few steps in he locks the door. When you turn to face him he’s already standing near you, looking down on you.

“How’d I get so lucky?” Chris says as pulls you closer, his arms find their way to under your thighs. Picking you up in one swift motion.

“So fucking beautiful and all mine.” He gently sets you on the bed, never letting go.

He’s on top of you, looking at you with so much more than just lust.

“All yours.” You respond, your hands already working on taking his shirt off.

“So eager.” He laughs, pulling it off the rest of the way.

You watch in anticipation as he undresses himself. Once he’s full naked and ready, he’s tugging at your pants.

You lift your hips to help him as he slips them off. After a few moments you’re both naked and he’s dropping to his knees. His arms under your legs pulling you closer to the edge of the bed. His face a few inches away from your glistening cunt.

“I love the way you’re always so ready for me. Always so wet.” He murmurs, kissing your inner thigh.

Without hesitation his mouth dips into your folds, finding your most sensitive spot,teasing it and kissing it lightly before applying more pressure.

Your hand find his hair, your hips tighten as your mouth lets sweet moans leave it. Letting him know he’s doing a good job.

His tongue plays with your clit, as his finger caresses ur lips then slips into your hole. A loud moan leaves your mouth at the new sensation.

He continues, his motivation is the sinful sounds that come from your lips. He hears you say more somewhere in the mix of moans and curse words. So he adds another finger, pumping in and out of you at a steady pace.

His mouth still tactfully working on your bud. He knows exactly what he’s doing and how to get you to your climax. The squeezing of your walls, lets him know you are close.

“Don’t stop.” You mutter pulling on his hair, as an attempt to pull him closer.

Your hips moving with his face, nearly riding it in an attempt to finish.

Chris moves faster, just enough to cause you to come undone. Releasing all over his fingers. He slows his movements until they come to a halt as he pulls away.

“You always taste so good. Do you wanna taste?” He ask as he stands up, his two fingers finding their way to your mouth.You nod yes in response, opening your mouth enough so he can set them on your tongue.

You taste yourself while never breaking eye contact even when he pulls them from your mouth.

“Fuck you’re such a good girl.” Chris groans, pulling you back to the edge of the bed.

He raises one of your legs with one hand, the other hand aligning his cock to your hole.

As he slowly, inch by inch fills you up he’s grabbing your other leg. Both of them in the air and supported by Chris as he bottoms out inside of you.

You whimper at the stretch and the feeling of being full. His hips start to move, slow motions as he fucks you. Painfully slow, you need more.

It’s like he can read your minds because before you can ask, he’s pounding into you at a brutal pace. You’re a moaning mess under him, your legs being pushed wider as he fucks you harder.

The only sounds is your moans, his grunting and the sound of skin slapping. Your pussy is so wet it’s loud as he goes in and out of you.

“So fucking wet for me” he groans

The muffled sounds of the party down stairs is barley heard theough the door.

Everyone upstairs can most certainly hear but in the moment you couldn’t care less.

“Fuck, you take me so good. It’s like your pussy was made for my cock.” He stammers as he attempts to talk while sinking in and out of your wet, warm core.

He continues to speak his mind, letting all his thoughts flow out without a filter. His movements never stop, desperate to please you and please himself in the process.

He’s pushing you deeper into the bed with every single thrust. Your hands find their way to his back, as he pressed himself closer to you. Kissing you hungrily as his hips continue to roll into you.

Your hands scratch into his back, leaving marks in their tracks. He groans as a response, into your lips as you two kiss.

You start to feel that familiar coiling tension. Your fluttering walls let chris know that you’re coming close to your climax. He continues the same pace, pulling his face away from yours so he can watch you come undone.

His favorite thing to witness and be the cause of. Your back arches as the tensions finally snaps.

Your walks tighten as you come all over his cock.

Which is enough to push him over the edge, he pulls himself out leaving you empty. Without missing a beat he grips his dick, pumping it roughly. Allowing himself to finish on your stomach.

When he’s done, he’s pressing a sweet breathy kiss to your lips before stumbling around in the dark to find something to clean up the mess he made.

You lay there for a moment before feeling him wipe you clean. When he’s sure as he can be that he got it all, he throws it across the room.

“Chris you can’t just..” Your own words cut off as you start to wonder whose room you two just fucked in.

“Whose room is this?” You question as he helps you get dressed again. As he pulls your shirt down over your head, he’s laughing.

“Nathan doe.” He speaks, you look around for the first time and it’s most definitely a teenage boys room.

“You didn’t.. we didn’t.. your bestfriends room” You reply, suddenly in a hurry to get dressed and back to the party. Moving his hands off you so he can get himself dressed.

“We did.” He grins, pulling his jeans on

“Chris..” You groan his name out but it doesn’t last long. His smile bringing you to smile.

Once you’re both dressed, he’s pressing another kiss to your lips. He grabs your hand and gently leads you out of the bedroom, praying that no one is sober enough to remember Chris and you going into Nathan’s room.

Only to met with several pairs of eyes, including his brothers and Nate not so silently watching and judging you.

Chris doesn’t seem to care, so you pretend to not notice. Following him back downstairs, to the couch where he was sat early.

“Chris.. I want to go to yours. Can we leave?” You say stopping him before he can take a seat.

“Give me like thirty minutes to sober up. I’m not nearly as intoxicated as you are…” He teases.

“But I did drink a little bit. We can leave soon, okay?” He says as he sits down, pulling you into his lap.

You have the cheesiest smile plastered on your lips. He’s acting as if it’s just another day, like this is a totally normal occurrence between the two of you. Like everyone in this room didn’t just watch him kiss his ex as a dare.

“Okay.” You nod, that smile still shining.

“You’re so cute and so drunk.” He whispers softly, his lips inches away from yours.

“And?” You question.

“And you’re so mine.” He says matter of factly.

“And?” You question again, eyes brows raised. Knowing what your tipsy self wants to hear.

As you smile waiting, he looks lost but you see it click in his eyes before he rolls them.

“And you’re the prettiest girl in the room.” He lets out a soft chuckle before kissing you unapologetically.

You kiss him back, drunkenly unaware of the eyes on you two and the gossip beginning to spread around the two of you.

Nothing could ruin this moment for you.

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A little Chris story I had a dream about this so I decided to make it and post it

[chrollohearttags]

commissions corner: lesson learned

you always had a tendency to express yourself through fashion but your husband happens to not agree with one of your outfit choices (or your attitude) and decides, you need to be punished!

content warning + themes: cowboy!reiner, mean dom!rei (🤤 bc hello) black fem reader, calls reader slut, rough sex, bondage, clothes ripping, tit fucking, cumshot, spanking, backshots, fingering, spit play, creampie, dumbification, throat fucking, squirting, hair pulling, daddy is used.

word count: 6.5K

this is a commission for @naodreaming! Thank you so much for entrusting this fic to me. I appreciate your patience and do hope that it was worth the wait! Please enjoy 🫶🏾

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marriage: a beautiful conception of two people’s undying love. A bond binding two souls together in bliss for all of eternity. Some choose to solidify their unions with a mere court house appearance and the legal confirmation of a certificate. Others want to go all out with a ceremony, reception dinners, honeymoons..the works. But no matter how you choose to join together with your sweetheart, there is one thing all couples can agree on and that’s the fact that no relationship is perfect! As much as we’d like to think that it’s all sunshine and rainbows, it’s all about compromise, learning and getting out of your own ways. That much became apparent when one day, your husband of five years approached you about a matter that had been weighing heavily on his mind..and other things as well..

“Seriously, Rei? I don’t understand the big deal. It’s just a fucking skirt, who cares?”

“First of all, watch your mouth. I won’t say it again. Second, I care. No woman of mine is gonna be struttin ‘round here, dressed like that. What’s gotten into ya’ anyways, (Y/N)? This isn’t like you.”

This conversation was one that was ultimately inevitable but important nonetheless. What started out as a simple disagreement had escalated into something rather serious. The two of you had never fought or even raised your voices at each other since you’d been together. But now? You were ready to rip his fucking head off! How dare this man treat you like his child rather than his equal? You were livid!

“Because, Reiner! I’m a grown ass woman so don’t tell me what I can and can’t wear–” he truly couldn’t believe what he was hearing..how had his sweetheart of a woman become so aggressive? And over an outfit of all things?! But little did he know, this had been long overdue and the cause of such a breaking point? Well he’d be surprised to know..

flashback - two weeks ago

“(Y/N), come onnn..hurry up!”

“Just a minute. I’m trying to find something.”

It was a sentence they had heard uttered many times before. Honestly, it had become the norm when the four of you linked up for a girls night. You and your three best friends would go out once every couple weeks to play catch up in one another’s lives, divulge in juicy family and workplace gossip and just overall, decompress from kids, husbands and all other stress inducers that came with being an adult. As for you, you were the luckiest among the quartet. No children at the moment, running a successful cooking blog and spending your rancher hubby’s money at your leisure. Your only true occupation was to look pretty and be happy. Honestly, it was all that your sweet Reiner could ever hope for as he spent hours in the hot sun, rustling cattle, baling hay and keeping the one hundred plus acres of farmland in order. He’d work himself to the bone just to see a smile on that gorgeous face. To say he was twisted around your pretty little manicured fingers would be a gross understatement. Some would even call him whipped!..but how could he possibly help himself when you were the literal embodiment of a goddess? That curvaceous figure, deep, decadent skin and gorgeous eyes that could pry anything from him. He was smitten. Perhaps a bit too much sometimes..it was never in a toxic or obsessive manner but you’d be lying to yourself if you said that your husband didn’t have a bit of a jealous side to him. You had to admit, it was cute at times..seeing him get all flustered because some guy stared too hard or tried to hit on you and you’d politely turn them down, reminding them that you were taken and happily so. You’d remind him constantly that he was the only man you’d ever love. In fact, you were equally as infatuated. Practically unable to pull yourself away from him after he’s come home from working all day, drenched in sweat and scars from hauling heavy equipment. Admiring all of his newly acquired muscles..even adding to the collection of markings at the end of the night. But the one thing Reiner despised more than anything was sharing what was his. He loved when you showed off your body..dressing in frilly lingerie or tiny outfits but only when he’d be the sole spectator of said ensembles.

however, you had other plans for the night!

finally stepping from the shadows, heels clicking against the laminate flooring of your two story cabin style home, you’d present yourself to the group. “Okay, ladies. What do we think?” To your dismay though, it wouldn’t be praise or approval you’d be receiving from the other three standing in your living room at the moment. But rather snickers and waves of dismissal. Standing dumbfounded with your purse in hand, (Y/N) questioned what the trio so tickled.

“Girl, we’re going to the lounge for drinks and to dance. Not for praise and worship.”

“Right. Girl, put them damn kitten heels and granny skirts back in that closet.”

Taking one more look over your outfit, you’d try to see what was so wrong with your choice of attire but had no idea. A simple black dress with red bottom slingbacks and a clutch..a sleek and classic look for a grown and sexy night out. But perhaps, this was far too grown. Almost grown enough to be collecting social security! It was outdated and a little old fashioned. Especially when they were all dressed in skin tight bodycon dresses and heels higher than heaven. It would completely throw off the vibe. But they knew the real reason for such a look and needless to say, they didn’t like it. Out of respect for your husband, you tended to dress more modestly when going out with the ladies. It wasn’t a matter of control or fear that made you do so..but one night when you came home with your ass hanging out and tits bouncing around in a revealing top, Reiner couldn’t take his eyes or hands off of you. You looked amazing but after he finished peeling those thin layers off of you and devouring you right there on the couch, you could tell that there was a sense of sadness that had washed over him. He didn’t outwardly say it and he was even a little bashful when admitting it but you got it out of him and what he had to say truly broke your heart:

“Ahh..I don’t know, sugar. It’s just..ya’ look so beautiful and I know how happy it makes ya’ to wear those out with your girls but it makes me a little uncomfortable, ya know? I don’t ever wanna tell ya’ what to do. I trust you and I’m not worried about some other guy but..if ya’ could just tone it back a little..”

he was so sweet about it, you couldn’t help but to comply! It crushed you to think that you’d ever upset your beloved husband. Especially when he was so good to you. And trust, when it was for his viewing pleasure only, you’d have him sweating bullets but for now? You could make that sacrifice. Little did you know, you’d become the laughing stock amongst your group because of it. Ushering her way over to you, one of the friends would drape an arm around your shoulder and breathe a sigh.

“Sis, you know I ain’t trying to cause problems with you and your man but don’t you think this is a bit much? I mean, honestly. I think it’s cute that you’re trying to be the good little wife and all but be for real..this is not your style. You and I both know that.”

before you could even utter a word, another would interject and second the notion. They didn’t want to be those friends who planted bugs in your ear and caused turmoil in your home but they felt as though Reiner may have been asking too much of you. Considering that it was that skin tight attire that bagged in the first place! Hell, when you first met him, you were straddling a mechanic bull in booty shorts and a crop top. A belly button dangling from your pudgy stomach and that ass sitting so heavy, he fucked on the first night. So they didn’t understand the need for reservation now. And the more they spoke..neither did you.

“Yeah, boo. I ain’t wanna say nothing but this whole First Lady thing you got goin on is not it. Girl, you used to have your foot on these bitches’ necks when we went out. Everybody was looking at you and now? You're dressing like Olivia Pope with a hennessy bottle. It’s crazy.”

you knew they meant well but truthfully, they were overreacting..or so you thought! In a moment of haste and you trying to explain the choice of outfit, they would spin you around to the full length mirror and allow you to observe for yourself. “C’mon y'all. You’re making a big deal out of nothing–” but as you saw firsthand, they were not. And this whole frumpy look was a total buzzkill. Feeling up the fabric, you couldn’t believe it..right now, it felt as if you were staring at an entirely different woman. It was a much needed intervention for you and you decided right then and there, that although you loved your husband more than life itself, this had to end. You didn’t carefully curate your closet and have women all around the city jealous of your wardrobe to be dressed like someone’s auntie. Enough was enough!

“You know what? I’ll be right back. Screw this..” and with those affirmations, you turned on your two inch heels and promptly changed.

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fast forward, and now..you were in the midst of a heated argument for your liberation to wear what you pleased. After one of your friends posted a video to their instagram story of you shaking your ass and them smacking it whilst out for a night on the town. But the worst part was when the skirt lifted and you flashed the camera with your barely clothed cunt. The story was spotted by one of their husbands who promptly told Reiner and needless to say, things got a little out of control. He wasn’t hellishly irate but he damn sure wasn’t happy! Confronting you with the footage, he asked a simple question:

“What the fuck is this, (y/n)? Why is yer’ damn ass all over your friend’s Instagram?” Which couldn’t exactly be taken seriously upon first asking with that thick country accent but as you saw he wasn’t joking, you promptly straightened him. “Babe, I don’t know what you’re talking about, seriously. What video did you see?” and once he showed you the clip, it was from up there! You were just as astounded as he was..you didn’t even know that your friends had even filmed you in such a state. But that's besides the point..

“..you promised, (y/n). Now I look like a damn fool because you had to go around dressing like that.” His words stung like sharp daggers because you’d never heard or seen him so irate. But honestly? You didn’t give a damn about his hurt feelings. Not when you were the one looking foolish, all for his sake! “Yes Rei, I did! But I didn’t sign up to be in the club dressed like somebody’s grandma at Sunday Service. I wore the exact same clothes when you met me so what’s the big deal all of a sudden?” Truth be told, he sounded jealous and insecure but as he paced the bedroom floor, shirtless and donning gray sweats, he’d offer up another explanation. One far more annoying than your own conclusion. Either way, you didn’t care and wasn’t going to change shit! You were a grown woman and you also had a father so you didn’t need his ass trying to be your parent. He was being incredibly unreasonable right now. But you’d soon find out just how serious he was about his request…

“I’m not gonna argue with you anymore, (y/n). This conversation is done. Tell her to delete that and I better not catch you in that again.”

because he was no longer asking but rather telling you what his expectation was. However, you couldn’t be vexed to listen and was determined or whatever you pleased. Smacking your lips, you’d snatch the skirt up from the bed and strut past him without so much as a second thought. “Got me fucked up..I’ll be back later—“ but alas, you’d come to find out that your husband was not interested in your disrespectful attitude. With a hand cradled to the back of your neck, Reiner would tug you towards him and halt you immediately in your tracks. It caught you completely off guard; mainly because he had never grabbed or even touched you in such a way. There wasn’t a lot of force behind it but it was very assertive. Something not typical for your doting, sweet husband. “What is your problem?!” He didn’t even waste time trying to answer or explain shit to you and rather..tossed you to the bed. His behavior had you so off kilt, not even you could form the correct words to express. All you could do was turn around and stare at him in complete surprise. However, he’d have plenty to say..enough for the both of you!

“My problem? Oh sweetheart…you haven’t seen problems yet..” muttering through gritted teeth with a faint smirk on his lips. Not once in the entirety of your relationship had your man ever looked so irate. There seemed to be a dormant fire lit within his eyes and your last outburst had served as the unfortunate catalyst for that impending blaze. He was angry..no, he was fucking pissed! Here he was trying to reason with you and you all but spat in his face when he asked for basic respect. Whatever or whoever had caused you to act this way had landed you in a world of trouble that you had no chance of getting out of right now! Returning that grasp back to your throat, he’d snatch your head from the mattress and grimace in your ear.. “don’t even think about moving from this fucking bed. You don’t speak, breathe or even move without my permission. Got it?” And something told you it was in your best interest to comply. “Nod.” Only allowing the command for a split moment before slamming your head back down. “Good girl.” It was something about the abrupt dominance and control that had driven you into a submissive headspace at will. That and the fact that he looked as if he were ready to go on a rampage. You knew your husband and you knew that he wouldn’t so much as hurt a fly but you had truly tested his patience and he was done with the mild mannered gestures. If you didn’t want to listen, then he’d make you in his own way…starting by restricting your limbs. Ensuring that you couldn’t do anything without his explicit permission.

“Just in case you want to get any bright ideas, darling..” reaching over across you, Reiner retrieved the leather strap he had used to fasten his Wranglers earlier in the afternoon. He’d used the belt as a makeshift collar to keep you in place. Stringing it around your neck as somewhat of a leash and binding your hands with a pair of your panties behind your back. With your face buried in the mattress, you’d find yourself ringling around instinctively; more so to feign off the urges arising between your legs. You’d never admit it but it certainly turned you on to be handled like this. Even so, your husband could give a damn less about your enjoyment. He was determined to prove a point and drill into that thick skull of yours. Chewing at your lower lip, (y/n) would be met with the harsh slap of his rough, calloused hands; making direct contact with your bubbly cheeks. “Didn't I tell ya’ no moving unless I say so?” That deep southern drawl ringing out into your ear as he stood behind you. That burly, muscular frame half nude and well on its way to being completely in the buff. He had plans prior, however..to get you stripped first.

“Damnit, pound cake…just what am I going to do with you?…” rhetorically posing the question, and knowing damn well better than to hear a response in return, because you’d surely regret it if he did! So sitting obediently…reaching the blatant epiphany that you had bitten off far more than you could chew. He was no mood in to talk or fight so he’d opt for the next best thing and that was fucking you until every bit of frustration had left his body!

“I think I know where to start..”

the sound of his voice sent shivers creeping up your spine because it wasn’t becoming of your husband and rather a man who was ready to eat you alive. Suddenly, you’d feel the sharp tug of that belt and your head raise from the mattress. In a moment’s notice, the two of you had switched positions and you found yourself near the floor and Reiner was seated in your place. “On your knees..hurry up.” The gruffly sound of his voice sharp and stern, a clear indication that he wasn’t playing anymore. You’d be met with the snap of his fingers and a sharp pull yet again when you didn’t move fast enough for his liking. But it was effective because you were now seated before him like an obedient pet. Awaiting his every word and order. There was a certain air of dominance about him..an energy that exuded confidence and set his dominion over you. That beard formed and shaped perfectly around his face, his voice deep..grovely from being tired and earlier years of smoking cigarettes. You’d never seen your precious Reiner look so roguish…but you loved it! Bringing a hand up to your face, he’d slowly circulate near your chin with a thumb brushing across your lips. Parting them, admiring the beautiful shape..the plumpness and darkish hue surrounding the pouty pink center. He could sit here all night and gaze at them. But alas, he felt they served a much better purpose at the moment. Shoving that thumb between them, he’d glide it into your mouth, allowing you to suckle. A mere preview of what was to come moments later. Those doe eyes fixated on him, nearly breaking his resolve right there but he was determined not to falter but instead, teach you a much needed lesson. “Mmm…nice and slow. Suck on my fingers.” Swiftly adding an additional one to the fray, allowing the second and third digits to become sucked in by your jaws. In essence, he was stretching them out. Preparing the orifice for his use..for his much deserved pleasure.

whilst he did so, he’d use the opposite hand that was still brandishing your leash to work the elastic of his waistband down until that erection was free from its confines. A tiny dampened spot had formed on the outside from what you assumed to be precum. Truthfully, it didn’t take much for him to become aroused in your presence. Hell, even with fury in his eyes, he was still madly infatuated with you. But he had to be steadfast if he was going to make his point. Prying those jaws open with his index and middle digits, Reiner pulled them apart whilst bucking his hips forward and promptly shoving himself inside. The swollen tip of his cock resting idly on your tongue before he began to push further. The faint ‘pop’ when he reached past your first row of teeth. Eventually, his grasp would tighten on that belt and your head would begin to snatch back and forth… faint gurgling arising once he sped up. It seemed as if he was in an entirely different zone right now..one you had undoubtedly put him into..

“Hey, look up…”

the stern command followed by a yank on that leash..which in turn led to your eyes being stretched beyond their limits to ensure that your full attention was devoted to him.

“There we go, sugar…now stay still and let me use that pretty little throat..” by this time, Reiner was steadfast in using you for his full, unadulterated pleasure. Pounding into that oral cavity with brute force until you started to emit strings of saliva..he’d send them rolling down your chin as he thrusted upwards into your mouth. “Fuuuck…that slutty little mouth of yours is good for something..” taking the opportunity to not only jab at you but establish your place for the time being. But alas, it seemed that not even he could withstand the pressure of your jaws coiled around him and withdrew with haste. Taking the sides of your face into his calloused palms, he’d examine the aftermath of his work with a proud smile. Spit smeared all around your face and a glare that signaled you being in a daze..such a pretty sight. By then, the remnants of your sloppy face fucking had trickled down to your breasts and needless to say, he was rather aroused by the sight. So much so, his cock would twitch on instinct. However, his work was far from finished..

“On your feet..I’m not done with you..”

on one hand, you wanted to test your luck right now and defy, talk out of turn for one final plea of forgiveness. On the other, you wanted to obey his every command. Follow through and be good because truth be told, you loved this side of him. This passionate aggression that stemmed only from a place of pure infatuation and love for you. He was sending a message: you were his and no one else’s. They could stare and admire all they wanted but at the end of the day, he was the only one that deserved to see you in such a light. It was a nasty habit of his..jealousy and insecurity but not to an extensive degree. Either way, you rose to your feet with a grin on your lips that truly couldn’t have been helped. Upon standing up, he’d take a moment to glance over your body..the vulnerable and submissive state you were in pleased him far more than he was letting on. In hindsight, he could’ve just allowed you to go out with your girls sporting the skimpy fit, because nine times out of ten, you would’ve came back intoxicated and ready to fuck him silly anyways but this done just fine!..

“Damnit, baby..you have no idea what you do to me..making me act all crazy…”

muttering through deep grunts, sucking his teeth as those erect nipples peaked through the fishnet top you were sporting underneath your shirt for the planned ensemble. Instead he was met with the flimsy material and your big, voluminous breasts. He’d pinch one nipple and suck at the other like a man starved. He was ravenous..wanting to take claim of each orifice on your body. But for now, those tits were his only fixation. After groping you to his leisure, he’d tear open that thin shirt and send them bouncing out. He was so unhinged at the moment, he couldn’t decide what and where he wanted to take you next. Suddenly, he’d shove three fingers between your lips, thrusting them back and forth until he cast out more gurgling noises and trails of spit, which promptly glided down to your chest. “Oh my gosh…” muttering through your pacified state..Reiner couldn’t help but to release another primal grunt. Becoming so turned on by your current appearance. “That’s my pretty little slut…choke on those fucking fingers.”

sharply snatching your head back, you’d come up gasping and glaring at him with somewhat of a smile. By now, that erect member was twitching; spouting precum from the tip..you were afraid he’d burst any minute! “You like that, huh? You like when I treat you like this, don’t you?” Grasping your chin in one hand and tugging at the belt with the other. He’d give you two solid taps across the cheek whilst choking you. The way your tongue splayed out and your face beamed with excitement..the answer to his question was blatantly obvious…

“Y-yes!” “Yes, what?..” questioning once more in that stern tone. “Yes, daddy..I love it.” Which seemed to satisfy his ego well enough. Even so, he wasn’t finished by a long shot. He couldn’t stop until the lesson was good and instilled in that cute little head of yours..that you didn’t run a damn thing around here! “Good girl..that’s what I wanna hear..” rewarding you shortly thereafter with a kiss. The only moment of compassion he’d displayed since starting. Taking hold of your breasts again, he’d place those big hands on either side before scooting closer and maneuvering his cock in between them. “Oh fuck..look at that, baby..yes..” whispering almost to himself, enamored with how those round, perky breasts just cradled him so nicely. That supple flesh squished around his shaft and massaged the skin. Almost as if they were made for him. He’d buck his hips up, groaning and whimpering the further he went..he could tell by the glint in your eyes that you were enjoying this equally as much. His obedient little slut..allowing him to take you as he saw fit. He was glad that you hadn’t complied and gave him such grief because it made this all the more fun..not to be mistaken, he’d never want to harm his sweet, precious wife but something told him that you liked this side of his personality. The only that was willing to get so out of character behind you, he’d surprise both you and himself. Speeding up those sharp strokes, Reiner bucked his hips, commanding you to drool the entire time. Your brain had practically gone blank, only following his commands from here forth. “Shit!..’m gonna come, baby. Hold still—“ what followed was a loud grunt and spouting of his warm seed all across your face and tits, making for a beautiful sight. He’d take a moment to examine his handy work; even pinching your nipples once more..

“Look at you..so pretty covered in my cum..” sticking his thumb between your lips yet again; causing an innocuous stare as those doe eyes fixated on him. Without another word, he’d snatch you up and pull you by the arm the rest of the way until that cute little torso was splayed over his lap. His knees resting in your tummy until he gets you adjusted… “Rei…please..” Your shrill cries served as nothing more than menial noise, going in one ear and right out of the next. He didn’t care how loud you whimpered, moaned or cried. It was of none of his concern..so as long as you continued doing as he asked. “We’ve talked about this, darling..don’t open that mouth again until I tell you—“ the sentence ended with a sharp smack to your ass, which made you yelp. “You lost that privilege when you decided to embarrass me for your little friends. You’re not in control. Do I make myself clear?” His voice was so deep and menacing, almost as if he were another person at the moment. Squirming around; antsy at the sensation of him treating you like a mere object. Responding with a nod..he’d smirk and take hold of your leash again, reeling up his opposite hand to spank you.

“Good, now count.” The first hit came down colliding with your asscheeks, causing you to jolt but the number came out. “O-one.” The next followed, getting even harder than the previous one. You were trying to stay still but the stinging sensations were making you inconsolable. Not because they were painful. But because they felt so fucking good! All of this felt euphoric..surreal even. Your precious, sweet Rei fucking you like a mere whore? It was more than you could imagine. Trying to conceal your smile, (y/n) resumed counting and had reached five when he paused momentarily. He wanted to take a second and examine your body. Truly admire those curves, those lines and flawless skin. He loved how perfectly that ass sat and how it jiggled as soon as his hand made contact. He loved that you barely even contained a gag reflex even when he was forcefully fucking your throat and the fact that you were a dripping mess from all of these antics! It was no wonder that he wanted you to himself. It seemed that his hardcore method of foreplay and revenge had gotten you so turned on..it was pooling around his leg.

“You like this, don’t you…your pussy’s ‘s wet, yer’ dripping down my fucking leg. At least try to pretend to have some shame, baby.”

cackling to himself as he gave you two hard smacks consecutively. From the look on your face, that much was blatantly obvious! You couldn’t fake it anymore and he certainly couldn’t pretend that he was still angry. He just needed you in the worst way right now.. “Don’t worry..lucky f’r you, I’m not good at holding back either. So let’s just cut the bullshit and get what we both want..”

for the first time since this entire ordeal, Reiner would gently caress you; handling you with far more care than he had prior. However, it wasn’t going to last for long because once he got you onto the bed, tearing open your tights, it was game. Your husband would swiftly saddle up behind you, grasping your ass and hips..kneading his fingers into the soft flesh as a means to saddle up behind you. Once he did, you’d outstretch your cuffed wrists, gripping at the sheets and subtly shake your ass..letting him know that this pussy was his for the taking! “But first, I need to hear ya’ beg..tell me how bad you need it, baby..” with a wide beam, lips curled up..Reiner took the opportunity to just sit and admire that soft ripple whilst you pleaded for him. As well as teasing himself against your slit. “Please..fuck me. Give me all that dick, baby..” and without haste, he’d grant your wish. “Well since you asked so nicely..” cackling softly before easing himself inside. The initial sensation caused an audible gasp to erupt from both of you. The feeling was insurmountable as it had also been a week since the two of you had engaged in any sexual activities and needless to say, the tension of this situation, along with the buildup was going to make this all the more satisfying. In that moment, Reiner’s head would fall forward as he mounted you with a foot placed into the mattress and yours would simultaneously become pulled backwards by your hair. “Oh fuck!…” crying out in pleasure when those thrusts inevitably began. Those puffy lips and tight flesh immediately took hold of him; gripping around his cock and emitting a sheath of cream. Smacking noises soon ensued and your mellifluous moans would join the noisy fray. Placing a thumb in between your bubbly cheeks, he’d reign you in and guide you back and forth as he saw fit. “C’mon, take it. Take it like a good little slut.” With all that you had, you’d manage to take hold of the sheets as a form of leverage and comfort. Gripping them and a nearby pillow to stifle your moans but you’d soon learn that his grace had sadly run out! “Did I tell ya’ you could bite that fuckin’ pillow? Let me hear you, darling. All that mouth ya’ had earlier.. ‘matter fact…say it.” His words spewing like venom from a snake’s mouth, he’d hiss into your ear whilst now reigning you in by the neck. “Tell me yer’ sorry. Right now.” And from the immense pressure of the brutal fucking; each one harder than the last and hitting your sensitive spot with precision, you had no choice but to cave.

“ ‘m sorry, daddy! So fucking sorry..oh my gosh!” Your legs were quaking, only mere seconds from collapsing to the bed as he drilled you into the mattress. He was akin to that of a rabid animal, mounting and claiming its prey..even huffing and grunting. It was apparent that the two of you were nearing your peaks and there was no slowing down. That fertile cunt gripping him and refusing to let go. That swollen dick stretching your insides..it was only a matter of time. “C’mon, baby…give me what I want. Do it..” and there was no question of what ‘it’ was: that inevitable rain of sticky, warm juices that came splattering down your thighs, the sheets and his shaft. “Sh-shit! Oh my gosh…” falling flat to the mattress, unable to support your weight, he’d promptly get you into a prone bone position and continue thrusting until he too reached that climatic threshold. Veins had begun protruding from his forehead and his grasp was slipping but he’d hold out long enough just to pump twice more..

“Ohhhh…fuck..”

repressing the words in a low growl before it ascended into a higher pitch as that second load came pouring out. A rope of steamy, white fluid flowed into your womb. Even earning your encouragement. “Come in me..just like that…” the ever so sultry command caused him to twitch as he finished out his orgasm. It was apparent that he was spent and very much over whatever grief you had caused him. Damn that photo, damn that skirt and damn your homegirls..this was the only place either of you wanted to be! Outside interferences or people no longer mattered. Reaching around to unlatch your throat and those wrists from their bondage, your normal, doting husband had flipped you over to examine you..ensuring that you were okay.

“C’mere. Lemme look at you..” caressing your face with loving strokes. That was the man you knew and loved. Always so attentive and empathetic. After coming down from both of your highs, you’d wind up entangled in a very passionate makeout session. “Are you okay, sugar? You know I’d never want to hurt ya..’” “Much better, baby..listen, I’m so sorry, Rei. I should’ve never worn that stupid outfit. I knew how much it hurt your feelings and I should’ve respected that.” But once again, he no longer cared. None of that mattered. All that he wanted was for you to know just how much he cared for you.. “..don’t worry ‘yerself about that. I love you and nothing could change the way I feel about you, sweetheart.” You were glad to know that all was forgiven but it was safe to say..

that your lesson was learned!

[batterygarden]

oh no! your big brother's best friend is the only one around to help you put in a tampon 😣.

yuuta x fem & afab reader. 18+ MDNI.

cw: yuuta is his own tw, somewhat taboo dynamics bc he has viewed you as a sibling, graphic period descriptions and blood, um it's sexualized, everyone's adults, reader just hasn't used a tampon before, yuuta masturbating mention, 1.3k words

“I just- I don’t know what to do. She wants us to take pictures in the pool! Like, I can’t avoid it!”

“Um. Maybe one of the other bridesmaids could help?” 

“I’ve barely spoken to any of them! They’d think I’m so dumb, Yuuta!”

Yuuta can only lean against the bathroom door and bite his tongue, completely at a loss. He wonders if even the wisest man alive would know how to navigate this type of thing—his best friend’s grown little sister’s period troubles. 

“‘M sorry.” He says earnestly. 

He hears you sniffle and mumble how it’s not his fault. Then there’s a slam of what’s presumably a cardboard tampon box thrown to the floor. 

“God, these instructions aren't helping at all! It hurts!” 

Yuuta’s pretty sure it’s not supposed to, at least from his experience knowing people who menstruate. Tampons are, like, tiny. He catches himself before he can really pursue the train of thought he starts heading towards—one where he contemplates if you’re a virgin, and if somehow that could make it harder to put in. He has to mentally slap himself; he’s being disgusting. 

“The YouTube video I sent—“ 

“No, yuuta, I swear, my vagina’s just, like. Different from anyone else’s. I need a doctor to do this, not some video.” 

You’re talking through quiet sobs and he’s concerned and he cares about you but Yuuta also can’t help but think you’re being a bit ridiculous. Soon the both of you will be late to your own brother’s wedding. 

“I can’t do this! I'm really and truly starting to freak out, Yuu!”

“Okay, I think—“ 

“Can you just come in and help?” 

The breath is knocked from his lungs.

“Uhh..”

“Please Yuuta there’s no one else who can! We’ll be late!” 

Yuuta purses his lips, checking the time on his phone for maybe the third time in the past minute. 

“Um…” 

“Please, just come in”

Deep exhale. “Alright then, I’m opening the door.” 

When he does, he finds you exactly the way he expected, perched on your toilet with closed legs, your baggy tee barely concealing the space between your thighs—he’s glad to note that your hair and makeup at least seem to already be done and your dress is hung up and ready. He spots the tampon box on the ground in front of you, its contents spilling out on the bathroom tiles. Then his eyes find your hands hovering over your lap, one of them clutching a plastic tampon applicator, both of them with bloody fingertips. 

Yuuta squares his shoulders. 

“So what’s the situation?” 

He’s very consciously only looking at your eyes when he asks, staring too long anywhere else feels rude. 

“This thing is literally tearing up my insides everytime I try to use it—maybe I’m not putting it in the right way.”

“Kay,” Yuuta’s thoughts seem to be moving incredibly slow. “Uh, do you wanna try again and I could, like, read the instructions for you while you do it?” 

You huff, giving a nod. 

“Okay.” He fumbles with the box, sitting next to you on the edge of the bathtub. Another deep breath. 

“Place the tip of the applicator at the vagina opening…” he notices you doing so out of his peripheral. His cheeks could not get any redder. 

“Now slide it in, up to where your fingers are.” 

He notices the way you hold your breath when you try—then you squeal. 

“No, this sucks yuuta! I can’t even do that—I need to angle it perfectly parallel to my tummy so it won’t hurt and I just can’t.” 

He sees you’ve taken out the applicator again. 

“I honestly think you’re making this more complicated than it needs to be, yn.” 

“Well how would you even know?” 

“I mean. I’ve seen a woman put in a tampon before…” 

“The YouTube animation isn’t the same, Yuu!” 

“Uh, well… I meant maki.” 

Yuuta watches as just about every emotion on earth briefly crosses your face. 

“That’s—“ you shake your head. “Why?!” 

Suddenly he wishes he had just kept his credibility to himself. 

“She was my girlfriend at the time, it’s not like it was weird! What I’m trying to say is, you should just relax and not think about it so hard. I think you’re too tense and that’s why you’re getting hurt.” 

You hyperventilate a bit again—hopefully getting it out of your system—before nodding and trying again. This attempt ends in another sob. 

And there Yuuta sits, a foot away beside you, staring at the ceiling and praying to whatever god is out there for this moment to pass. 

“Yuuta—“ you sniffle, “can you do it for me?” 

…

Yuuta sighs a deep, long sigh. He… had an idea that’s where this was headed. And what’s he supposed to do? Leave you hanging right before a huge wedding which you’re both in the party of? While you’re crying and freaking out? 

“…alright, I’ll try.” 

He rolls up his sleeves, then he washes his hands, holding them up like he’s about to perform surgery.  

You offer the tampon. 

Gingerly, he plucks the bloody applicator from your fingers. 

He squats down in front of you then, eyes flicking to your sniffling face while wearing his own similar, very somber, expression. 

“You’re gonna have to open your legs.” 

Slowly, you do. 

And yuuta tries not to be weird about it—he doesn’t know what even constitutes a normal reaction here, but he can’t help but instantly engrave the image of your spread pussy, blood staining its lips and dripping out of it, permanently into his brain. He knows it’s permanent because he doesn’t want it to be. He knows he’ll think about it because he’ll try not to. This is some kind of test from the universe and he is failing. 

He stares for a second, instinctively catching every detail. The way red smears across the plush insides of your thighs, the way you clench yourself automatically under his gaze, the way a red drop oozes from your hole when you do. The shape of your lips leading up to your clit. 

He shakes his head microscopically to clear it, hoping you don’t pick up on his pause. He uses one hand to grip onto a thigh then, holding steady while he brings the applicator to you for the millionth time today. You make a worried noise. 

“Breathe for me?” 

When he hears you exhale, Yuuta eases the applicator in bit, angling it up whatever way feels natural, then he pushes the trigger so the tampon’s inserted. 

You make a surprised gasp, mumbling a little oh my god before sitting up straight. Yuuta knows it’s finally in there correctly. 

His hands are washed and he is out of that room faster than you could say thank you. 

The drive to the event is less awkward than it could be, thanks to the news podcast Yuuta always listens to and an interesting story spurring on conversation. But yuuta can’t stop thinking about it. He’s known you since you were kids—only ever looked at you like a somewhat annoying little sibling—but now his brain keeps reverting to thoughts of your warm little pussy every other minute. When you talk, when you look at him, when you hold his arm walking down the aisle before the bride. When you dance later in the night. And most importantly, when his fist’s around his cock in his hotel room later, turning in early even after one of your pretty cousins kept trying to get inside his pants all night. He might not have turned her down under different circumstances, but he knew he had to when his head kept reverting to you, eyes darting to find you at the reception almost every other minute. Drifting to your body whenever they did…

[hyperactively-me]

king!ghost x reader -- learning, growing

A few days have passed since Simon almost kissed you. 

With him, around him, you felt more comfortable, more at ease. It wasn’t easy getting to this point with him, but spending time with him has strengthened you in ways you could have never imagined. 

The palace, once a place of hostility and responsibility, began to feel like a true home filled with kindness and understanding. Time spent together was precious, and you cherished each moment of vulnerability. The late-night conversations and the quiet, whispered laughter in the corridors all contributed to the connection you had forged.

Simon's loyalty and strength became even more apparent as you got to know him. He was a king who would move heaven and earth to protect his people, especially his friends, and he was also a man who would move mountains for you. He made you feel cherished and secure, and your affection for him deepened with each passing day.

One evening, while you were curled up on the couch, Simon spoke candidly about his past. “I've always been so focused on my duty as a king that I never really had the chance to explore my own interests or hobbies. But since you came into my life, I’ve noticed the way you do all of these things, and I admire you for that.”

Your eyes twinkled with happiness as you listened intently. “Aw, really? Lil ole me?"

He smiled, his eyes reflecting a genuine enthusiasm. “Well, for one, I've developed a newfound love for books. I’m always lookin’ over your shoulder when you read, y’know.”

You couldn't help but grin at his admission, your eyes lighting up. “Aww, I’m glad that you think so, Simon.” 

Simon nods. “And I've realized that there's so much more I want to explore. I know there has to be something out there for me.” 

Your heart swelled with pride at his willingness to embrace new experiences. “I think that's wonderful, Simon. You should explore whatever makes you happy."

He also asked questions about your own interests and hobbies, wanting to understand you. You shared your love for gardening with him, and soon, you both started tending to a small garden in the palace courtyard. He was definitely hesitant at first, never really confident in his abilities in the garden, but over time, you taught him how to nurture the plants. Simon's dedication, his strong hands carefully tending to each flower and shrub, was something you’d never thought you’d see. It was so sweet seeing him try something new just because you liked it. 

A few days have passed since your little moment on the couch before he was pulled away from  you because of his responsibilities as king. It was after dinner, the sun was setting, and you wanted to watch the sunset. 

Hand in hand, you made your way through the dimly lit corridors, your heart fluttering as he pushed open a balcony door for you. The sky was painted in hues of orange and pink, the sun casting a golden shimmer across the landscape. You stepped onto the balcony, the cool breeze tousling your hair, and the soft rustling of leaves in the palace gardens creating a soothing ambiance.

Simon stands next to you, his presence comforting. With his arm around your waist, he pulls you closer, his eyes fixed on the horizon.

“I—,” he starts, his voice barely above a whisper, as if afraid to disturb the delicate peace of the evening.

You nestle against him, feeling the warmth of his body, and the reassuring beat of his heart. “What?” you question softly. 

“I can’t get enough of you,” he whispers, his voice husky with emotion. 

You smiled, feeling the same overpowering attraction. “Nor can I,” you admitted, your hands coming to wrap around his waist.

“No, I mean it. You…there’s no words to describe how much you’ve grown to mean to me,” he trails off. He pulls you into his chest, hands coming down to rest on your waist. 

Simon's thumb gently caressed your cheek as he looked at you, his eyes filled with longing. “Every moment with you, I just feel…fulfilled,” he murmured.

“Simon—"

“No, don’t say anything, just— let me…” he leans in, lowering his head down, mere centimeters from your face. Your heart races in your chest, threatening to sprint right out.

"Kiss me," you nearly beg, gripping onto him tightly.

And with a small breath, he captures your lips in a searing kiss.

His arms envelope you in a tight, secure embrace, pulling you right up against him, and you melt into his touch. You grab onto his shirt, bunching the fabric as you push up on your toes to reach him easier. The world outside seemed to disappear as you explore each other's mouths, savoring the taste with every kiss you give him. 

He groans slightly as your arms come up around his neck, tugging gently at the hair on the nape of his neck. He squeezes the flesh of your waist as he presses into you. Suddenly, he flips you, pressing you against the bar of the balcony, kissing you like a man starved. He cups the back of your head, one arm secure around your waist to make sure you don’t fall. He would never let go of you, never let you fall, and you know it. Your mouth tastes so good, feels like velvet, like everything and more he imagined it to be. He pulls away for a moment, his breath hot as he lets out small pants. He licks his swollen lips, eyes not parting from yours. 

“Simon–”

He groans, then pushes his face into your neck.

“Darlin’, if you say my name one more time, I’m not going to be able to hold myself back,” he mumbles into your skin, breathing in your scent.

You still as he speaks, hands coming up to scratch his back gently. You had never gone this far with a man, no, not even back at home. This was something you had never experienced before, something that meant more than just a simple kiss. Something more. 

“Okay,” you say, your voice barely a whisper. 

He kisses your neck, leaving sloppy open-mouthed kisses along your sensitive skin. He pulls away suddenly, his hands still locked around your frame.

“Was it too much?” he asks, stroking his thumb against you over your clothes.

“No, no, it’s just, I’ve never– I’ve never done this before,” you say softly. “But, I’m glad it was with you. It couldn’t have been more perfect,” you say, stroking the contours of his face.

You speak gently, knowing what he was insinuating with his words. “Do you want to…?”

“No, no, not like this, not now” he says quickly. “You deserve better than something quick. You deserve to be treated with respect.” 

You nod slowly, warmth creeping up your cheeks.

“And I thank you for respecting me all this time,” you say, smiling softly at him. “But, right now, I want to do this. With you. And only with you.”

His heart rate picks up as he takes in your words. The moment he’s been waiting for. For your permission. For your yes.

He would show you what you deserve.

- - - - -

(masterlist) 

[nburkhardt]

Omegaverse but most importantly oblivious Dustin, enjoy!

Steve smells.

Not bad, just different and Dustin can’t figure out what it is that his best friend turned older brother has done differently recently.

Sure, the upside down hasn’t been around for a good while now and Steve moved out in an apartment with Robin and Eddie. The Byers moved back to Hawkins recently and everyone is finally together again.

It’s been good, really good.

But Steve’s scent has changed and Dustin’s stuck on it.

Which shouldn’t bother him but it is! Steve’s scent has always been his favorite, a perfect mix of cinnamon and maple, it fit perfectly with their ma’s scent of vanilla and nutmeg. (Their home smells like a bakery, it’s heaven. Especially with his own scent of chocolate and coffee) So he’s curious okay?!

The new scent is more woodsy and it does work well with Steve’s original scent.

There’s a snap of fingers and Dustin blinks a few times before seeing an amused Steve standing in front of him, “cool, you finally joining the conversation again?”

Dustin rolls his eyes, “I was listening”

“Yeah, sure, Henderson. ‘Cause that look you had was exactly like the one you had that led us trapped under the mall,” Steve raised his eyebrow and crossed his arms, “so mind sharing?”

Dustin shrugs, “Fine, I noticed your scent. It’s changed, but not bad it’s really nice actually. I was just trying to figure out why”

The rest of the room -Eddie, Robin and his Ma- grows quiet and Steve looks at him confused. And it makes him realize how weird that is to say out loud, actually. But it’s true regardless.

“Uh, huh.” Steve blinked at him before he looked over towards Eddie, “Dust, man, where’ve you been?”

“What?”

“My scent has been like this for four months, since my bonding? It’s really grown with my pregnancy too” Steve explained slowly as he made his way back to sit with Eddie, “You were in the room when we announced this, wasn’t he?”

That makes Dustin’s eyes widen as Eddie tilts his head at him confused before shrugging it off, “maybe he was in the bathroom?”

Dustin looks around shocked as his Ma looks just as confused as Steve, while Robin looks like she’s trying to hold in laughter. Making him even more confused, rubbing his eyes scrunching his face before looking back at Steve.

Steve who’s now practically in Eddie’s lap, Steve who is definitely pulling Eddie’s arms around him and fully relaxing against Eddie. Steve who looks the most content he’s ever looked sitting there with Eddie, letting out a happy purr and the scent of happy omega.

Everything clicks in his brain as Eddie’s scent starts to also pump out the smell he’s been smelling for months off of Steve. A woodsy apple like scent and now his brain is running a marathon to help him realize how oblivious he’s been.

Steve smells like Eddie, and now that he thinks about it, Eddie’s smelt different lately too and it never clicked that it was because They’re mates and -he was definitely in the room when it was announced- he just didn’t take in what was said, was too focused on something else at the time. Dustin feels like an idiot for not remembering his older brother is not only mated but also expecting.

“No- no I was,” He shakes his head, “I’m just oblivious”

~~

Idk I just started writing and had no plan whatsoever other than thinking how funny a thing could start with just ‘Steve smells’ lol. Also I’ll admit it, I’m a little high rn.

Tags aren’t working for me rn sorry to those I’m supposed to tag 🥺

[sinsinsininning]

Can i request a luffy x fem reader who's his childhood best friend and they're both as dumb and hyperactive as each other (she followed and stayed him when he started his pirate journey) and they also like each other but arent together and theyre just two puppies in love

I love dumb idiot x dumb idiot, with a smidgen of oblivious mutual pining. I’m keeping this to pre time skip and kinda vague timeline wise. Keeping this as SFW since you didn’t specify just to be safe.

Hope you like it ✨

—————

You’d grown up attached to his hip, returning with him to Dandan’s house after saving him from drowning. He’d fallen off a bridge he’d made and into the fast river, his elder brothers, Sabo and Ace, rushed to help him. But you’d been faster, watching the trio from the shore and being a great swimmer/fisherman.

His brothers had been so grateful they’d offered you protection and dinner at their home, your own family was broken up by war and violence just like theirs so you accepted. And while Dandan hadn’t been happy about another mouth to feed, she’d thought having a young girl around would help the three wild boys settle down and act better.

It didn’t.

Everyone was dismayed to learn you were just as crazy as Luffy and equally stupid. Though you both had your brilliant moments and emotional intelligence, time and time again proved that though wisdom was chasing you, you were faster.

That’s how it’s been as kids, your adventures so intertwined Luffy couldn’t remember a time you weren’t by his side. Even Garp mistakenly called you his grandkid half the time and never held back his training or punishment on you either.

As you got older, your ambition remained unchange. You wanted to see Luffy become King of the Pirates, which is why you were the first to join his crew. Over time as your crew gained more members, you were a steady pillar of loyalty.

Loyal to your crew, your captain, and your captain’s stupid ass.

Some examples of your daily hourly conversations:

“If you could only eat one food for forever what woul-“

“Meat.” Luffy cut you off.

“Too broad be more specific.” You smack his chest lightly, it’s late at night and you’re both stargazing on the main deck.

“Cooked meat.” Luffy said after thinking a moment. “You?”

“Hmmm Ice cream. Or potatoes.”

“Mmmm now I’m hungry. Lets ask Sanji for a snack.” Puffy starts to stand but you yank him back down.

“Can’t remember, he’s still mad at us for putting a regular carrot in the bin with the baby carrots so they’d have adult supervision.” You laugh together as he lays still, the only time he can be still is if it’s with you.

Or.

“Nothing to see here,” You whistle lowly, trying to keep Nami’s attention on you as you whiddle. “Love being normal. Peak ordinary! That’s me, heh no problems here. No one’s ever been this average.”

“Are you sick or so- GODDAMN IT LUFFY!” She cuts herself off to try and whack your captain on the head, but it was too late, he’d already grabbed her slice of cake and ran off. The red head throws her book at you as you follow after him.

He saved you a forkful, the rest was gone the second he started running, but for you. For you he saved a bit.

Or.

“We didn’t come here to make friends.” Zoro says as he holds his blade to an enemy captain after a short skirmish.

“We came here to make Best Friends.” You interjected.

“Yeah!” Luffy gave you a thumbs up.

“Shut up you idiots or I’ll slice you!” Poor Zoro’s blood pressure was insane with the two of you.

Or.

“I’m not surprised you’ve gotten a bounty.” Garp sighs, tired eyes locked on Luffy. “But I expected better from you!” He rounds on you, shoving his finger in your face accusingly.

“Shishishi! Well that’s your own fault, nothing to do with me.” You and Luffy laugh as Garp chases after you. The old man doesn’t miss the way, Luffy looks back to ensure you’re still stride for stride with him or the way he takes the heated blows aimed for you.

But.

Overtime, your feelings are softer and softer for him, but you have no clue what this means. You notice the little things he does for you, the things he’s always done for you only. You watch him listen intently to Sanji’s flirting advice -that no one really asked for- and try not to feel weird about it. It’s only when Nami finally just announces that you’re both in love that you finally understand. A little.

“Duh.” Luffy says when she tells the crew.

“Yeah of course we love each other.” You agree wholeheartedly, but a small part of you wonders if that’s what she meant. Your suspicions are confirmed when she groans exhaustedly.

“No, you guys are IN love with each other.” Ussop says, trying to help her out.

“Huh.” Luffy says contemplating it, you don’t say anything for once. You don’t feel embarrassed, you never do really, but you do feel curious and warm. “Like married people?”

“Jumping the gun a little there, but yeah.” Nami says, feeling a little accomplished now.

“I don’t know about that.” You answer honestly, cocking your head as you literally roll the idea around in your mind. Luffy isn’t glaring at you, he couldn’t glare, but he’s certainly making a face.

“It makes sense.” Luffy announces, staring hard at you. “I mean I don’t wanna marry Hancock.”

“But you know that doesn’t mean you wanna marry each other.” Ussop interjects.

“Yeah it does, she just needs to ask.” Luffy says like it’s obvious, which frustrates his crew, except you and Robin of course. You aren’t even shocked by his answer, it did make sense, you didn’t want to date Sanji despite him asking multiple times. But if Luffy asked you wouldn’t say no.

“Luffy you know it’s traditional for the man to ask the woman, right?” Robin asks gently, though she knows the answer.

“Huh? Then why is Hancock always asking me?” Luffy looks to you for an answer, you shrug just as confused as him.

“No clue, i don’t think I’ve ever met a married person now that I think about it.”

“Huh me either, I’ve never noticed. Shishishi.” You and him laugh again, but this time his hand entwines with yours.

“God you’re impossible.” Nami shouts, stomping off.

“Those two are made for each other.” Ussop rolls his eyes as you and Luffy start talking about wether it would be better to be a bird or a fish.

“Yes, isn’t it lovely.” Robin sighs as she watches you.

[clairewritesjjkxreader]

Sukuna’s Wife and Yuuji’s Onee-chan (Sukuna x Reincarnated!Y/N) au headcanons

Other snippets of this au

Yuuji’s Onee-chan Random HCs

You never worried about Yuuji’s social life, because he was like the sun, the type of guy to attract all sorts of people. He was kind and polite and defended others from injustice. However, you were never attached to any of the friends he hung out with from kindergarten to high school; not until you met Megumi and Nobara. 

You would get along with Megumi, who has a soft spot for older sister types because of his own sister. He respects your opinion a lot and you love how he protected Yuuji. 

Nobara took a liking to you instantly. Much like Megumi, she sees you as an older sister and often goes to you for advice or just to rant. She looks up to you as a role model, but secretly in your heart, you wanted to tell her that she shouldn’t emulate you, because while she and the others were selfless and would sacrifice their lives for the greater good, you were the opposite. You would sacrifice everybody else for your baby brother.

You owe a debt of gratitude to Satoru Gojo. He shielded Yuuji from harm and provided you two with a safe haven. That being said, you didn’t like him. You didn’t doubt his compassion, but he seemed duplicitous, not to mention it bothered you how a grown man insisted on treating minors as his friends.*

You despised Ryomen Sukuna. If not for him, Yuuji wouldn’t be on death row. He claims that he is your husband, but you don’t even know what he looks like–when you “saw” him, he overtook Yuuji and marred his skin with black tattoos,** a sickening grin in place of a sweet smile. You will never forget it. You will never forgive him.

…So you thought, but ever since Yuuji’s possession, you began having odd dreams of old Japan, filled with scenes in a manor so large and grand it reminded you of imperial palaces in period pieces. Sometimes you’d be outside. Bright red maple leaves fell like snow around you, the mild, woody scent of cypress was ever present. Sometimes you'd see a familiar childlike silhouette that morphed into a kitten.

Regardless of where you were, a faceless man was always there, towering above you.

With the reveal of sorcery and curses, you suspected that these dreams were not mere dreams…

[1] Canonically, we know that there is more to Gojo than this, and you have no idea about the despicable things I’d let him do to me–but I’m writing these based on what Yuuji’s protective big sister would think. Frankly, as someone with younger underage siblings, I would be worried too if their adult teacher spent their free time hanging out with them. 

[2] I believe that in-universe, the characters can’t tell when Sukuna is the one actively using the body of his host and that the shift in visuals is just for the benefit of the audience. However, Y/N here sees the changes: tattoos, four eyes, etc.

@shadowywizardarcade @hannya-exists @nineooooo @lilachaeyo @pumpkindudeishere @jessbeinme15 @fluffy-koalala @cringeycookies @frogzxch @isimpfordanielpark @marvelsgirl4ever @sanzusmom @sheccidoscar @marvelsgirl4ever

A/N: Sorry for the late update. Been busy. Decided to write this while waiting for my resin to refill.

[cathrrrine]

just eat your food and say goodnight.

erik lehnsherr (magneto) x reader, platonic! peter maximoff (quicksilver) x reader • x-men (movies) • fluff, female reader

Summary: Peter Maximoff is a mischievous little shit. Y/N Lehnsherr and her husband Erik love him anyway. AO3

“Well, I’m calling it a night then.”

A content sigh escaped your lips as you stood up from your seat at the dining table and gingerly picked up your own dishes as well as the other empty ones left on the table. Those who noticed thanked you quickly before resuming their respective conversations — like Raven and Charles who were too busy bickering like children — while others made the effort to collect the ones on the other end of the table, namely Hank, Jean and Scott; the latter only doing so after being dragged by his girlfriend.

“Hey, you got an early class too, old man. Can’t risk waking up late with that back of yours.” You gestured to your husband, pointedly looking at him with a smirk on your face. He mirrored your expression, playfully cringing his nose to tease you but it only made you chuckle, a sound that was music to his ears.

“Good night then, everyone.” Erik stood up, following suit behind you, a melody of good night’s responding to him in different tones and variations of the phrase.

“The old man joke doesn’t age well with you, Y/N!”

Although muffled as he said it with a mouth full of food, it was clear enough for you to hear and snap your head towards him. Peter, the beloved speedster, snickered to himself at his own joke. He was too busy shoving chocolate pudding down his throat to notice that a couple of those around him had gone quiet, staring at him with disapproving eyes.

Raven reached over to flick the side of his head and Charles leaned back to give her the leeway, “Dumbass.”

“Ow!”

In your one thousand and thirty-five years of living, it was no surprise that all jokes about your age had grown stale. You hated them, having heard every single phrase on Earth…it was just plain boring to hear them make unoriginal jabs at your age at this point. If they got creative, you wouldn’t mind so much, but after hearing the same variations of the same jokes your whole life? Anyone would be understandably annoyed. Erik knew this, almost everyone at the table did as well. But, you figured it slipped Peter’s mind. It always did.

As he rubbed the side of his head, he stared angrily at the shapeshifter but was met by a pair of equally disappointed eyes that belonged to a certain Professor. A sheepish look fell on Peter’s face when he realised his mistake.

“You should know not to be too casual with your professors.” Charles raised an eyebrow.

Of course, you didn’t take it too seriously, he was a kid that meant no real harm so you didn’t really feel any real anger towards the young speedster, maybe even none at all. But he’s been bothering you too many times lately that it was starting to get on your nerves. So, you put on your Strict Professor Face and stared him down, determined to make him break a sweat at the very least. It probably wouldn’t put a cork in Peter’s attitude, but maybe you’d earn yourself a few weeks off from his incessant clowning.

Erik suppressed the grin that was starting to tug at his cheeks, he knew what you were doing, so he wordlessly took the stack of plates from your grip and continued your task for you. He caught Charles’ eye and they shared a knowing look for a brief moment.

Peter was in trroubleeeee.

“You do know how I feel about those jokes, Maximoff.”

“Funny, right?” He tried to play innocent, nervously smiling at you.

“I’ve told you so many times before that, no, I do not find them funny. We do not share the same sense of humour. Charles is right, you shouldn’t be so casual with me. We may be friends in your mind, but I’m still your professor, and I deserve at least a minimal amount of respect.”

Whew, that made even me sweat. Charles’ voice cackled in your mind.

Peter Maximoff was rarely left speechless, so it was an eighth wonder of the world to have him staring at you with his eyes widened and mouth shut. He gulped, shocked at being scolded by his favourite — although he’d never admit it to anyone — lecturer.

It hurt you too much to leave him that way, though. You were his favourite for a reason…that reason being how gracious you were to his faults that seemed to be never-ending. Relenting, you cracked a smile and used your powers to jolt him out of his daze and confusion. The sound of your chortling hit him with the reality behind the situation.

“Just messing with you, kid. I think you broke your own record for the longest time of being speechless.”

He rolled his eyes and groaned in effort to mask his relief, not wanting to admit she actually did get him back for once. “Unbelievable.”

“Serves you right for always making fun of me. I’m not kidding when I say it’s annoying!”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever makes you feel better, grandma.”

You stuck your tongue out at him, “At least I’m not the one with greying hair.”

Peter frowned and opened his mouth, about to fire back a retort but you stopped him by laughing and ruffling his grey strands, “C’mon kid, just eat your food and say goodnight. Careful though, don’t choke.”

Your feet carried you over to your original destination, the intent of loading the dishwasher now appearing at the forefront of tour mind, but it was halted immediately.

As if someone had pushed him forward, Peter sped over to the sink area before you could even turn around, mumbling something about doing the dishes. You glanced curiously at the smiling telepath who simply gave you a shrug in return.

You bid your farewells to everyone again, Peter’s quip of ‘g’night’ not escaping you either when you went to pat him on the back affectionately.

A patiently waiting Erik tugged at your hand, clasping it in his own as he led you out of the kitchen and up the stairs, swinging your hands in tandem with his.

“You think he’s gonna be okay?” You worriedly asked aloud, suddenly very concerned that Peter wasn’t aware you had been joking. The role you played in his life was somewhat maternal, and you didn’t want him to think you were actually being curt with him.

“Who? Peter?” Erik gave you a sideways glance, “That boy’s smarter than he seems, he knows what you were doing. Don’t worry so much, darling. With how fast he moves, I’m sure his mind has moved on to other things by now.”

You hummed in reply, pleased with his answer. “Sometimes I think you might be the resident telepath with how good you are at reading my mind.”

“That’s just called being married to each other, my dear.”

———

“Y/N!” The sound of his sing-song voice was not what alerted you to Peter’s presence, nor was it the sound of his shoes squeaking before he rushed over with his powers, instead, it was the lack of formality. He never called you Professor or anything of the sort.

You never chided him for it, in fact, you’d be lying if you said you preferred the title as a prefix to your name. While many of your students were comfortable addressing you as such, anyone who felt more at ease with calling you by just your name was welcome to do so.

You had a first-year call you Mrs. Lehnsherr back then, when you and your husband were just newlyweds, but Erik was quick to remind them that if they wished to call you by your last name, it was to be Professor Lehnsherr instead, because, in his words, your accomplishments were not to be diminished and should be rightfully addressed.

It led to a whole debacle of mix-ups with two Prof. Lehnsherr’s roaming the hallways, which was a minor problem compared to the confusion of the paperwork.

The days of “Professor Lehnsherr?” “Yes?” “Sorry, not you Professor Lehnsherr, I meant you…Professor Lehnsherr,” had to come to an end, so you settled for whatever it is your students decided to call you…as long as it wasn’t demeaning.

However, no one called you Y/N, just Y/N, but the one and only Peter Maximoff himself.

The young man sped towards you, his hair swaying behind him from the strong gush of wind even as he came to a still in front of you.

“Pete!” You mocked the way he called you, using the same tone.

He gave you a playfully disgruntled look before quickly reaching into his backpack — which looked more like a knapsack, actually — to retrieve a cylindrical object and hand it to you nonchalantly. As soon you wrapped your fingers around it, he sped away again, a quick and impish ‘byeeee’ being the last thing within your earshot before the gush of wind took over your senses again.

It wasn’t until your day ended that you finally had the time to completely relax, stretching your legs and unbuckling your high-waisted, straight-legged pants. You wiggled your toes, sore from being in heels all day, as you relaxed into putty on yours and Erik’s shared bed.

Speaking of the devil — Erik came in not long after, tossing his shoes off and setting his things down on the bench next to your door before throwing himself on the bed next to you, also instantly letting himself relax.

He leaned closer to your side, laying his head on your chest and draping an arm over your stomach. Muscle memory kicked in as your fingers immediately found their way to run through his hair, a familiar habit between the two of you. He closed his eyes as the sweet, heavenly endorphins that came with the satisfaction of your touch washed over his body.

“How was your day?” He mumbled, too lazy to form his words properly.

“Pretty interesting. Finally convinced Logan to come to one of my classes next week. Students have been begging like crazy to meet him.” It was a history project, of which you and the Wolverine were both well-acquainted with, given your ages. “I’m getting the feeling that they think he’s a cooler teacher than I am.”

That made your husband laugh, the sound reverberating as you continued to cradle his head on your chest. “All of the students think Logan is cooler than any of us.”

“It’s not fair, isn’t it?”

“He’s like a mystery, that’s why. Never around long enough to be the one who yells at them for almost burning the school down.” He was talking, but his lips were barely moving and his eyelids were fluttering shut. You smiled softly, trying your best to keep your movements minimal as you continued your ritual to help him sleep.

“Like a cool uncle, then.”

“Yes.” A beat passed, then he spoke again when he remembered what he meant to tell you earlier. “Peter was in my class today.”

“Yeah?” You were slowly falling asleep as well, eyes half lidded and muscles starting to feel limp.

“He spent the whole of it with his head down, though.”

The very image of that made your eyes shoot open, all hints of sleep gone. “Why? What happened?”

It was unlike Peter to be uneventful — he was always doing something , be it throwing spitballs or participating in a one-sided blinking contest with whoever’s teaching in front.

“Nothing.” Erik mumbled groggily. “He was just…working on…something.”

Your skin itched and your eyebrows strained, discomfort firing up every synapse as you went through all the possible reasons. Then, your last interaction dawned on you.

“Honey, I know you’re almost asleep, so can you please hand me my bag on the bench?”

Without saying a word, he raised the arm resting on your body and used his powers to float it towards you, the metal handles clanking together when he dropped it carefully in your grip.

You didn’t have to move your sleeping husband to grab the cylinder you were thinking about, but you did almost startle him when his snores made you lose your grip on the bag.

He didn’t notice, too busy dozing off to even pay attention to what you were currently doing. You quietly unwrapped the roll of paper, barely caring about the sound of it crinkling — you knew your husband could sleep through anything when he was in your arms — since Erik’s snores were louder anyway.

The contents were confusing at first, you had to read it twice to understand that it was a voucher of some sort. With your arm still around Erik’s head, you used what restricted movement you had with your one free arm and just your hand to flip the paper over.

“What is this, Peter?” You mumbled to yourself, reaching for your glasses on the nightstand. Your vision weakened even in your abnormal age, and being far sighted was something you dealt with long before the triple digits hit you.

As if on cue, the answer to your rhetorical question was answered by the scrawling on the back which you recognised as Peter’s boyish handwriting.

‘Sorry for calling you old all the time. You know I’m just kidding. Thank you for always being so cool with me. Hope you like the vouchers for free ice cream. One’s for Erik too. - P.M’

Next to his initials was a doodle of a face with sunglasses on, a two-toothed grin to go with it. It was hard to wipe the pleasant smile off your face, so you kept it on, succumbing to the bubbly feeling. Peter was like a little brother that you couldn’t hate no matter how much you wanted to — you’d even go so far to say he was the son you never had.

You flipped it again, only noticing the name of the store being dairy goods related as you read through it for the third time. It still left you confused, since there was no sign of anything being free printed on it.

That’s when your eyes landed on the italicised font at the very bottom, bold red asterisks between the phrase.

* SENIOR CITIZENS GET 1 FREE CONE . *

Quickly, you turned it around to look at what you thought was an innocent letter written by one seemingly apologetic speedster. You didn’t miss the joke this time, written in very, very emboldened ink, so roughly scratched on the surface you wondered how you missed it in the first place. The smile you had on dimpled into a disbelieving simper.

P.S. HOPE YOU ARE WEARING YOUR GRANDMA GLASSES :D

[dearsnow]

Hello!

Could I request a Jon Snow x female reader, where she is a seamstress for the Stark family and they become friends and talk during her visits to Winterfell and slowly become lovers?

A PATCHWORK OF BLOOD AND BATTLES

- you are a fighter, and so seems to be the needle stuck in your thumb. and, of course, the man that unintentionally put it there (jon snow x fem!seamstress!reader ⚠️ mentions of blood and a needle-based injury).

word count: 1058

a/n - this took absolutely forever to finish i’m so sorry 😭 i think this request was from literal months ago, but here you are!! i love this concept so much, i hope you don’t mind my artistic liberties :)

You have fought for everything in your life. For your right to simply exist in the same world as the nobles, for your trade, and most importantly, you have fought for yourself. You have climbed the ranks of peasantry with chipped nails and a needle, asking for more and getting less. Now, you have won. At least, you have won as much as the earth beneath your feet will allow you to win. You are a seamstress for one of the most prominent families in Westeros, and as you patch a hole in a fancy evening dress, you can’t help but smile.

The night is dark, but you are not unfamiliar with the flicker of a candle flame. Snow falls lightly outside, and the wind rustles your hair as it sneaks through your open window. As you thread your needle through the lacy fabric, your door slams open.

Your eyes widen as the needle between your fingers is driven straight into your thumb, sending a shooting pain through your entire hand. You let out a sharp yelp, clutching your injury. Who in the gods’ good name was slamming doors at this hour? And why the hell didn’t they warn you?

The thumb clenched between your hand is throbbing and dripping red around the needle still stuck in the middle of it. You look up at the man who startled you, eyes burning with distaste.

It’s him. Lord Stark’s bastard child, the one that sits alone at feasts. And the one that comes to you with sword slashes in his vests.

“May I help you?” You ask. Your finger is still in burning hot pain.

In truth, you have grown to like him. He is also someone who has fought for his status, though his came with a lot more cushion. You recognize the burn in him, the drive that your own eyes carry. He will do great things someday; you’re sure of it.

He looks at you like your hand is made of dragonfire. “Sorry.”

You press your lips into a thin line. You need to keep him on your good side if you wish to keep your job.

You tuck your hand behind your back, hoping he just drops off whatever garment he needs repaired and leaves you to nurse your sores. Unluckily for you, he is a gentleman.

He moves to kneel beside you, dark curls almost glowing in the dim lighting. He looks positively angelic as he reaches for your hand.

“My lord?”

“Allow me to help.” He utters, voice as soft as the wind. He is an honorable man, you cannot deny it. You have seen him in the courtyards during your visits to the castle. He is always improving and always helping others do the same. He gets it from his father, you assume.

You comply with his urges, slightly in fear that you will lose your position if you do not. That worry is always in the back of your head. Will sewing this neckline a millimeter too short cost you your life? Is this cuff good enough for Lady Stark? Are you up to the task? Your thoughts almost consume you long enough to not notice Jon Snow pulling the needle out of your finger.

Almost. You feel a sharp sting of pain, but you bite your tongue. He swiftly wraps the undershirt in his hand around yours. For a brief moment, his rough hands brush the tip of your pinky finger. You have never felt anything so electrifying.

The hairs on the back of your neck stand up like the angels have come for your body at long last. When he pulls away, your thumb shouts with new pain, but all you can focus on is the memory of his hand. You shake your head.

“Shall I call the maester?” He asks, ever the responsible one. You wave your good hand.

“I will be alright, my lord. I will wash and patch your shirt, if you wish.” You don’t exactly love the idea of taking the pressure off of your wound, but you must be willing to sacrifice your own comfort in this moment to assure your future.

He stands, and an owl outside hoots. His eyes flicker to the window, then back down to you. “Don’t worry about it. Keep the thing.”

This shocks you. It shouldn’t, but it does. He is being kind to you. For the first time in a long while, someone is being kind to you.

“I mustn’t, my lord.” You speak, hesitantly standing up next to him.

“It’s no trouble. I insist.” His voice is smooth, and the sound tickles your ears. You think you could hear him speak all night if you ever had the opportunity. Something in you wishes you did.

You nod slowly. It would be rude to further refuse it. That’s what you tell yourself, at least. You hope it is not the fact that you suddenly hope your finger never stops bleeding.

Jon turns to leave, exiting just as swiftly as he had come. You clutch his shirt, heart beating wildly in disbelief of what just happened. In that moment, you suddenly decide that you have another thing to fight for.

Gods, did you fight for it. You took every opportunity to see him, and it worked like a well-oiled hinge. From patching more sword slashes to custom-tailoring a pair of riding pants, you were able to take any of his sewing work off of your coworkers’ hands. And through that, you began to learn why exactly he was fighting.

He often sat in your quarters while you worked, and you were beyond glad for the company. Eventually, he began to open up as beautifully as a flower in spring.

He was neglected and outright hated by Lady Stark, as he was the bane of her married life. He wishes to take the black and become a watcher of the wall. Most importantly, he does everything possible to maintain what little honor he has in his family.

Like you, he is a fighter.

Sometimes, in the quiet night, words spill from his mouth like he has never held them back. You do the same. And every once in a while, very softly, he takes your hands in his larger ones and whispers that he will fight only for you.

comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!!

Taglist: @lovelyliliya @the-jess-life @hopelesswritergall @watercolorskyy @cecespizza01

[lilmoonbunny]

First Kisses; BBC Sherlock

Includes: Sherlock, John, Mycroft, Lestrade, and Moriarty.

Sherlock:

It wasn’t rare for Sherlock to come out with the strangest things, but there were times when his requests were so unexpected that one would choke.

“I need to test out a theory,” Sherlock broke the silence between himself and Y/N one day.

“…Okay?” Y/N replied simply, preparing to tell Sherlock that he can’t put a head in the microwave again.

“I require your help.”

That was odd, he rarely ever trusted someone else to help him with an experiment, not even John.

With a raised eyebrow, she responded. “How so?”

“You need to kiss me.” Whilst his words were as blunt as always, Y/N couldn’t help the way that she choked in surprise, all whilst he rolled his eyes. “It is not that serious, Y/N. I simply need to see if it solves these thoughts.”

“These thoughts?” Came her confused response, watching him as he walked towards her seat on the chair opposite him.

“That is what I said, yes. Do keep up.”

Rolling her own eyes, she stared up at the detective who had an impatient look on his face.

“I mean, okay? If that’s what you want.” He smirked slightly at her attempt to seem nonchalant at his request; he didn’t expect her to actually do it.

“I just need to see if t-“He began speaking, only to have his sentence cut short by her lips pressing against his own.

Sherlock’s eyes widened as her hand gently gripped his cheek as kissed him. He was frozen in place, heart racing, and chest heaving once she pulled away.

“Did that help?” She asked, looking up at the startled and silent man as she seated herself back where she was previously. She waited for a few more moments to see if he would respond before giving up. “Anyway, I need to get going. Tell John I said hello whenever he returns.” Y/N said as she reached the door, Sherlock still frozen in place, at least, until the door clicked, and he snapped out of his haze.

“Hey, Y/N, wait!”

John:

Despite his initial dislike for the youngest Holmes sibling, John couldn’t deny the feelings that he had grown for Y/N Holmes over the past few months. It was obvious to everyone besides the woman herself who was, unlike her brothers, oblivious to any and every sign of affection towards her.

It was just the two of them in 221B going through the latest case files whilst Sherlock attended a crime scene. He had originally asked John to accompany him, but the man refused after realising that Y/N was remaining at the flat, something at which Sherlock simply rolled his eyes, having already deduced his friends crush on his sister long before he even knew himself.

It was a trickier case than usual, hence why Sherlock had to return to the crime scene, leaving John and Y/N to search through mountains of files looking for one specific word.

“This would be so much easier if these files were all on a computer.” Y/N yawned, flipping the page over to the other side, John doing the same.

“Agreed.”

“Wait, this might be what we’re looking for!” The woman shot up onto her feet in excitement, turning the paper towards John and pointing at what she was looking at with a smile which was soon returned as he agreed.

In excitement, Y/N’s arms wrapped around John, and she pulled him in for a hug, only to pull away once she realised what she had done.

“I’m so sor-“ she began, only to be silenced by John wrapping his hand around the back of her neck and pulling her into him for a moment, lips pressed against each other.

“Finally,” a deep voice sounded from the doorway, making the pair pull back away from each other in both shock and embarrassment. “Now if you two lovebirds are quite finished, what have you found?”

Lestrade:

It was odd for Greg to enjoy working with Sherlock.

Whilst he didn’t mind John’s company, Sherlock was an absolute nightmare, but their friend on the other hand, Y/N, she was wonderful and Lestrade could not get enough of her.

She was everything that Sherlock wasn’t. Kind, sweet, funny, genuine, and it came as no shock to him, or anyone else for that matter, when he began developing feelings for her. However, despite how obviously reciprocated his feelings were, the man refused to believe that she could ever like him back, even after Sherlock himself told him that she likes him too.

The two had become fast friends, having clicked as soon as they met, and a friendship with Lestrade meant coffee. All the time. Coffee was his favourite time of the day, especially if there were doughnuts involved.

“Your coffee is in the kitchen.” Y/N called as Greg let himself into her apartment, a common occurrence amongst the two, and he shot her a thumbs-up as he passed her to grab his drink.

“Thank you very much.” He grinned, taking a seat beside her on the sofa and turning his attention to the football for a moment. He knew she had no interest in the game, so why she had agreed to watch it with him, he didn’t know.

“It’s no problem, Greggy.” She teased him with the new nickname, one that always earned a blush from the older man.

“Do you have to call me that?” He muttered, both his cheeks and ears tinted red in embarrassment.

“Yep!” She smiled, pinching his cheek as he continued to stare at her, or, more specifically, her lips as she licked them.

He knew he shouldn’t have done it, but he couldn’t resist. He leaned over, his hand resting on top of hers, and pressed his lips against hers, something which she gladly reciprocated.

In his panic, he abruptly pulled back before registering that she had returned his kiss and began rushing out apologies.

“I’m so so sorry, oh my God, I should definitely not have done that. I am so sorry!” He rambled, previous blush darkening as she pushed himself to the other side of the sofa, disgusted with himself.

“Greg.”

“If you don’t ever want to talk to me again, I get i-“

“Greg.” Y/N repeated his name to try and catch his attention.

“I’m just so-“

Sick of his unnecessary apologies, the woman reached out to grasp the fabric of Lestrade’s shirt, pulling his lips back onto hers, her other hand landing on his shoulder.

“There’s no need to apologise.” She whispered against his lips as she pulled back. “I wanted that.”

Greg, too confused and happy to even register what she was saying, just listened to his brain go oh!

Mycroft:

Mycroft Holmes had two soft spots, his brother and Y/N, the latter being one that he was unwilling to admit to himself, let alone anybody else.

“Morning, Mycroft,” Y/N greeted him as he entered the café, one which he was a regular at; only for her, of course, but she could never know that.

“Good morning, Y/N,” came his simple response as she brought him his usually coffee, having already anticipated his arrival; he was nothing if not punctual, after all.

Neither of you knew how your friendship had evolved into him driving you home once you finished work, but there was never a single complaint heard about it. The moment you ended up at his home, however, that was when something shifted.

It wasn’t uncomfortable, just… odd. Having never been this close to someone besides his younger brother, Mycroft wasn’t entirely sure how to act, especially when the tension in the room reached its peak and your lips ended up pressed up against the others.

It was awkward, as to be expected considering that the older Holmes had never kissed anybody before. However, the awkwardness had its own charm about it, especially when he pulled away with flushed cheeks and immediately changed the subject, ignoring what had just happened for his own peace of mind.

“Should we like, I don’t know, talk about it?” You asked him the next time he entered the café, watching him closely for any sort of reaction.

“Talk about what? Nothing weird has happened recently, nothing at all. Nothing out of the ordinary.” Mycroft rushed out, desperately praying that you were oblivious to the shade of pink that now covered his cheeks.

He had no idea how it even happened, it just… did. Myrcroft was never one for affection, or even friendships, so he didn’t know why he kissed you and even worse for him, he didn’t know why he wanted to do it again.

“If you say so,” you chuckled at his embarrassed demeanour. “Either way, I finish in an hour if you like, wanted to go for dinner or something.”

Maybe he would wait around an hour, not for any specific reason. After all, nothing weird had happened.

Moriarty:

For as long as they had worked together, Y/N and Jim had always flirted with each other.

It started off small, almost unrecognisable, but gradually grew into full-blown flirtations with invitations that were never accepted. Co-workers turned into friends, and a friendship turned into longing, it was just how the cookie crumbled.

The two stared across at one another, Y/N pushing a plate of food in front of the criminal. “Eat it, or I’ll shove it down your throat, do not test me.” She warned, although there no malice in her voice; she just wanted him to eat something for the first time in a few days.

“Do I have to?” He pouted like a young child, earning a giggle from Y/N.

“Yes!” She laughed, leaning in closer. “Or I’ll force feed you it.”

“With your mouth, I hope.”

A blush dusted the woman’s cheeks as an idea formed in her mind, one which would solve many problems, including his refusal to eat.

As she leaned in closer, Moriarty couldn’t resist the joke falling from his lips. “Ohh, are we about to kiss right now?” His words were teasing, he didn’t actually expect her to do so, but as she leaned in and pressed her lips against his, he couldn’t stop his eyes from widening.

Despite his initial shock, he was quick to respond to the kiss, his hands moving to cup her cheeks and pull her closer into him, deepening the kiss whilst one of Y/N’s hands moved to his shoulder and the other to his neck.

“I suppose we are,” were the only words spoken with a cheeky smile before she pulled him back in for a kiss to shut him up.