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satorusdiary · 11 months

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dilf!toji being your ex bf

fluff & angst + making up + cuddling + toji not being able to resist you when you look so fragile + toji forever loving you

part 2! - back in love !

You sent 1:03 am

hey, r u awake?

toji places the cigarette back down on the ashtray, looking at his phone slightly shocked. it’s been months since you and him have had contact, the split up that has happened to your relationship has left a strain in his heart.

why did you text him at this hour? and most importantly, why aren’t you asleep? toji knows how well your sleep schedule usually was.

his friends look at him concerned, the look on toji’s face confusing them even more compared to when he stopped smoking repeatedly just a few seconds ago.

“fushiguro, you good?” satoru questions, patting his friends shoulder as he looks over at his friends phone. he wasn’t able to get a look at the message before toji pulls the phone into a direction that wasn’t able to be seen.

“yeah.. jus’ lemme call someone real quick.” before the rest of his friends could protest, toji is up and walking over to an empty room in the apartment. taking a seat on the bed.

Toji sent 1:09 am

thought i told you to lose my number

now that’s something he wouldn’t text you, he immediately starting regretting sending that message the second you immediately read the message.

you were his sweet little girl. the young woman who he swore he was gonna marry, the one he swore to have kids with.

things were different when he realized how much his life would have an impact on you if you stayed with him.

what’s good about a sweet girl who has a bright future getting with a older man selling illegal substances, that could send him to jail for years and years.

yeah not good at all.

toji knew what’s best for you, and if it meant him not being with you then it was worth it.

because he loved you, and would do physically anything in his power for you to have the best in life.

You sent 1:09 am

i know, i just need someone to talk to rn. i’m sorry

his heart weeps, you still want his comfort even after he has completely broke you, and your relationship with him.

he should be in jail for just breaking you in general.

toji sighs, not knowing how to reply. he wants to comfort you, yet he wants to push you away from his life. push you away from the trouble and the dangers that could happen to you.

he thinks you have given up until you text him 3 minutes later.

You sent 1:12 am

can i call you, please toji?

he couldnt deny it. he just couldnt. his love for you was simply unbreakable even if you weren’t together anymore.

his friends out in the living room are most likely concerned and worried for toji, but that’s the least of his problems. he needs to know if you’re okay, if you’re hurt.

‘incoming call from Toji’

he swears his heart skips a beat when the call goes through.

toji is not one to get nervous. especially with anything in general. but when it came to you, everything comes crashing down. when it comes to you, toji is willing to do anything for you, because you were his girl. his love.

“..hi” your voice is shaky, it seems you’re nervous as well. could he blame you though? this was the first time in months he has actually spoke to you.

“hey.” he replies, hoping you wouldn’t notice the weak tone in his voice as he spoke.

there’s a moment of silence, and soft breathing from your end before toji speaks up.

“are you ok? why’d you call me.”

it’s harsh, his tone is harsh. your eyes begin watering, and you hope he doesn’t notice.

“i-i am just having trouble sleeping, that’s all. ‘wanted your company atleast to calm me down.” your tone has a small strain, as if you were crying for hours before you called him.

it was as if he was able to see your puffy eyes through the screen, he could just imagine it now.

“there’s something else, hm? c’mon tell me, y’know i won’t judge.” especially with you. is what he wanted to say as-well, but he couldn’t get to soft with you now. he couldn’t.

he hears a sniffle from your end, feeling his heart clench once more. as if his heart is dropping to the bottom of his stomach.

“okay.. t-truth is i usually sleep better with you ‘round. but since you’re gone, ‘ts been kinda rough. i just wanted to call you for once, to see if it would help..” you confessed, voice breaking down in between sentences.

toji has an urge to put you down, and hang up. but he couldn’t, how could he resist you? especially after everything he has put you through.

the bracelet on his wrist that has your initials come into his vision. you had made this for him when he was sick, he has never took it off ever since.

“y’want me to come over? not gonna make contact, jus’ gonna be there til you sleep.” he says calmly, he swore he could’ve heard you sigh in relief.

“mhmm, yes please..” you’re still polite, his sweet girl is still sweet around him. that’s what he misses with you.

“alright’ be there in 10. jus know i’m never doin this shit again, kay?” he says harshly, too harsh.

you sniffle again, he could tell your frowning and having tears drop on your phone screen. his heart strings get tugged, and he calms his weeping heart.

he’s hurt you once again.

the call ends before you could say anything else, and he’s out of the bedroom quickly taking his keys. his friends look at him concerned.

“yo, you good?” suguru comments, looking up at his friend who was ready to leave the apartment.

“where you going?” satoru also questions.

toji shakes his head, letting out a deep sigh as he turns to look at his of friends once again.

“gonna be gone for a bit, see ya tomorrow?” he waves them off, and goes out the door before they could reply, or ask anymore questions.

he knows he said he would be at your place by 10 minutes, but he ends up arriving in 5 minutes. quickly at your door step, knocking on the door gently.

just as he predicted, you open the door almost immediately.

when he looks at you, he swears he could break down then and there. on your door step.

your eyes are puffy, you’re wearing his hoodie that he “accidentally” left at your home, and there were dried tear stains on your puffy cheeks.

he wanted to kiss your cheeks badly, and cradle you in his arms. but he resisted.

thats before you crash into his arms, immediately breaking down. hugging him tightly as if he was going to disappear again.

toji breaks, he can’t handle the cold act around you any longer.

“y/n? what’s wrong baby? speak to me..” toji coo’s, his harsh tone disappeared. you automatically feel comfort from his nice tone, something you missed.

there he is, the sweet older boyfriend you have always missed. the man who was your home, your protector, your everything.

“‘missed you s’much toji. miss being with you and megumi, i-i can’t sleep without thinking about how i could’ve been better for you.” you stutter repeatedly.

it was no lie that megumi missed you as well. the boy who is only 3 years old can not go a night without asking where you were, if you were coming back to him without breaking down. because you made the little boy feel loved.

toji’s heart breaks, now he notices how selfish he has been. yes he was protecting you, but he also broke you so much. regret seeps into his body, he wraps his arms around you and hugs you tightly.

“‘s not your fault sweets, you were more than enough for me. c’mon, let’s go to bed.” he murmurs, picking you up bridal style and walks towards your bedroom. the door behind him shutting closed.

the photo of you both happily together was still on your night stand, toji’s heart breaks for the millionth time in the past hour.

his side of the bed was cold, as if you never slept on it. that’s because it felt wrong sleeping on that side, knowing it once belonged to him.

you continue crying as you’re placed on the bed, still in toji arms. he’s careful with you, placing kisses on your face and rubbing your body to give you his heat.

“i-i miss you.. s’much.” you repeat, looking up at him for the first time with clear sight. tears drying back on your cheeks.

he gives you a sad smile and kisses both of your cheeks, sticky with tears.

“i miss you more sweetheart, missed my little girl s’much.. ‘l’ll explain everythin to you tomorrow, kay?” he questions, caressing your cold cheek.

the smile you give him is sad, but could easily melt the coldness in his heart.

after you nod he places a kiss on your lips, before pulling you closer, your head on his chest while is head is rested on top of yours.

the night goes by, and your soft snores fill the room. toji’s eyes are still glued onto the photo of you both, looking so happy, so dumb and in love.

he is gonna make that happen again, only for you. he’d figure out everything else soon, his priority was now you.

“i love you, missed you more than anything. baby.” he whispers quietly, placing one last kiss to your temple before drifting off to sleep.

for the first time in months he is able to sleep with no bad feelings, or any nightmares.

that is because you’re by his side, by his side to push away all the bad thoughts. by his side to make him feel loved again.

Jujutsu Kaisen masterlist

part 2 - back in love !

a/n: don’t mind typos pls, it’s like 3:47 am😭😭

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lizzobetumblin · 26 days

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Melissa hated her feelings.

She buried them in a chest in the 5th grade (along with her ability to express them). Other peoples' feelings on the other hand was her forte. She could process, decipher and regurgitate other peoples emotions effortlessly. This gift could’ve taken her through college, all the way to a degree in psychology. Distinguished Dr. Jefferson with a PhD and a cozy office and impressive roster of high-profile, weallthy clients was a shiny idea. Fate would have a different hand for Melissa her talents were exhausted on mediating family fights, friend group drama, and charming her way out of confronting her own feelings.

“Feelings.” Even saying it out loud to herself seemed silly. Something reserved for ‘cry babies’ and water signs. Typical Sunday nights started tame, reading or writing fan-fiction and drinking cranapple juice. And then like clock work her father would yell her name,

‘MELISSA!!!’ Emotionless, she’d get up dust off her Winnie the Pooh shorts and make her way downstairs. On the long walk down the hall to the stairs leading to the living room brawl, she’d go through her check list:

1.) Don’t cry.

2.) Stay neutral; Deescalate

3.)Don’t take anything personal. This isn’t about you

She padded down the carpeted stairs in her old soft socks to see her mother tightlipped and tear streaked thinking,

‘she broke rule number 1’. Her father, Michael was proud and angry, his big belly filled with self righteousness. She knew he would be unyielding in his resolve and at this point her only option was to deescalate.

‘Rule number 2’. Then her sister the water sign and calamity for the evening sat on the floor nearly fetal, face red and raw with emotion.

‘Its not your fault’ Melissa wanted to say ‘You just didn’t follow the rules… you’re loved.’ But she couldn’t say that because she’d be breaking rule number 3. It wasn’t about how Melissa felt. Even though she felt like screaming,

“VANESSA, YOU DIDN’T DO ANYTHING WRONG. DAD—YOU JUST HAVE PENT UP ANGER BECAUSE YOU GREW UP IN THE HOOD OF DETROIT AS A BLACK MAN IN THE 60s AND 70s. YOU NEED A HEALTHY OUTLET LIKE.. I DONT KNOW… THERAPY?!?!?! THIS IS A WASTE OF ALL OF OUR TIME. I LITERALLY JUST WROTE THE BEST SAILOR SATURN x CHIBI USA FANFICTION EVER AND THIS IS KILLING MY VIBE!”

Instead, she decide to hear every one out. She decided to help. To calm her dragon of a father down. To be a translator for her emotional sister. To not take it personal. To stay neutral. To not cry.

9 years later, at her fathers funeral she still never broke the rules. She played her flute and spoke at his memorial. She was present for her mother because it wasn’t about her. When other peoples' emotions bubbled up she stayed neutral. She sat through both services and she did not cry. It wasn’t until she excused herself to make a phone call outside did she collapse onto the stairs of the funeral home and weep alone in the cold Detroit snow.

It’s okay to break the rules sometimes, she reminded herself. As long as no one else sees it.

Traumas began to compact on Melissa, as they do. Humans tend to collect traumas like pebbles on a long hike. We toss them into our backpacks and keep moving forward. Some hikers would falter, but Melissa was built for this. She’d carried the stones of her family’s traumas uphill for years. She was strong.

When men began to befriend and reject her, saying ‘you’re too good for me’ but not too good to make them feel good. She carried that.

When childhood friends began to cut off the strings of her heart, saying ‘We can’t be friends anymore’. She carried that.

When her family separated like dandelion seeds, it seemed like they’d never be together again. Melissa slept on so many couches, floors and car seats sometimes she didn’t know if she’d see them again.

She carried that.

Dying was never an option though sometimes she didn’t mind the thought of it. Peace and warmth were two things she’d desperately yearned and hadn’t felt fully since the womb. Then one night in the pitch black of the hot, sweaty, roach-infested studio in southeast Houston she slept in she wondered:

‘Why can’t I break the rules?’ She’d seen everyone else in her life break them like popsicle sticks. And she didn’t just want to break the rules, she wanted to break them boldly and loudly and annoyingly and honestly and sloppily like every one else gets to do. It was in that moment, tucked in a thin jacket inside of an 8-foot high instrument cubby in the inky darkness—it hit her.

‘Is my suffering for a high purpose? Or is my suffering trying to kill me?’

She cried.

She escalated.

She took it personal.

But it wasn’t enough. She wanted to scream in a microphone in a sea of shadowy faces. She drank whiskey and wove her pain into rock music.

‘Music is my boyfriend’ she declared. The only man that kept his baggage to hisself. And it healed her. It gave her voice reason and purpose.

The pebble-laden hike became lighter with time. The incline eventually evened out to flat, beautiful landscapes where the breeze finally met her back. She knew it wasn’t gonna be easy or sunshine but even the rain cleansed her and it was beautiful too.

Somewhere in the rain she decided rules were meant to be built and broken. Like trust and love and friendships and families. Because every thing deserves the opportunity to change and grow.

So... She broke rule number 1 on stage while singing a beautiful song. Dr. Jefferson (PhD) screamed for her to stop but she didn’t listen and the tears flowed like rivers of emotion down her cheeks.

Rule number 2 was broken when she grew older and saw the injustices of the world. Marching with hundreds in protest she realized not everything needs to be pacified.

And one day when she finally fell in love, she broke rule number 3. No matter how much training she’d done she couldn't help but take every thing her lover said and did personal. But it was ok. Because in all her resistance she realized breaking rules was her power.

Melissa began to fall for her feelings. Her feelings gave life purpose. They weren’t always logical, as feelings seldom are. They were sloppy and embarrassing and rude and so fucking uncomfortable. But they were hers. And they were real. And when she sat alone sipping wine, staring at the moon…They were the only ones still by her side. Ready to break the rules for her because they loved her.

And she finally loved them back.

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arminsumi · 7 months

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First request ever: Can you make a story about Gojo, where their both in a relationship but gojo had to end it because he was afraid that she would be in danger?

Thank you! Keep up the good work, I love your stories!!!

LET ME MARRY YOU

↳ GOJO さとる + fem!reader

The risk of dating you his too much for him to handle, so he breaks it off, only for him to come back to your doorstep years later and ask: "Let me marry you."

Note : istg each time i edited this... the wordcount grew lol. i hope u enjoyyy 🥹💗 tysm for enjoying my work it means everything

Warnings : angst -> fluff (?) -> happy ending trust me, Shibuya arc spoilers (Ep 9), manga spoilers (chapter 221)

🍒 More from Jay : Gojo works / Gojo fave works / JJK works / oct. reqs open

The risk of dating you is thrilling when Satoru's just a teenager in puppy love. But as he grows older, and heads into those dreaded 20s, the risk makes him more and more nervous.

What if something happens to you?

He presses kiss after kiss to your forehead and feels his chest tremble, feels his lips quiver, as he refrains from telling you the truth about the Jujutsu world. Satoru just can't do it.

There are so many instances of him saving you from curses that you're oblivious about. He just smiles strangely, and you wonder why he looks like he's just seen a ghost. Because he has, those pretty eyes see ghosts. But those pretty eyes also see you, "What am I looking at?" he responds after you ask why he's looking at you so tenderly, "I'm looking at my future wife." he flirts just to fluster you.

That's at the cafe, when things are still simple. He keeps thinking to himself, as he lays with you in bed some nights;

I want to marry you.

I'm going to marry you.

Please let me be your husband one day.

As if he's trying to manifest it.

Everything is okay-ish... until he gets pangs of fright when your name starts to be known outside of his closed circle of friends.

It's October 11th.

Gojo Satoru breaks up with you.

He leads you to believe that the two of you are just "right person, wrong time". It all hurts an incomprehensible amount for him, to finally cut the string that tethers the two of you together.

He sits on the stairs, head in his hands, mourning.

He starts many mornings with crying spells that last until midday.

He destroys evidence of you and him. In case anyone ever finds it and thus finds your apartment, or work, or college... or anything.

But he can't part with a very special photo. It's you and him in Okinawa, sharing a cheesy kiss at the beach. In the moment this photo was captured, Gojo remembers having whispered some dirty joke in your ear and that's why you smiled so big into his kiss.

He drifts to sleep to the lullaby lovesongs that defined your love.

Years pass, he refuses to even talk to you. The heartbreak worsens with time, he laughs when he realizes that on his 27th birthday.

Isn't time supposed to heal all wounds? Someone said that to him once. Well, they must have been lying without realizing it.

The day Gojo Satoru is sealed, he looks into Suguru's eyes, and remembers you through them. When he resides in that awful prison realm, he only thinks of you you you you you you you oh god he misses you so much that it feels like the very thought of your smile stabs his chest. Every memory is painful. Every flashback puts one more crack in his heart.

"Can't I ever catch a break...?" He laughs to himself, chattering skeletons making their eerie symphony around him.

He thinks. Ponders. Wonders. Broods. Daydreams. All about you. Always about you. Never anything else. Just his first love, from the late spring of his 17th year.

His earthly goddess.

The purpose of his benevolent actions.

He cries. And sobs. And weeps. Because no one can hear him but the skeletons and he's sure they don't mind the sight or sound of a 27 man howling in pain over a lost lover.

It's not just your relationship that he's mourning. But the fact he can't feel you in this cube... that he can't feel your presence in the world... that's worse than the heartbreak. At least through all these years, he's been able to sense your existence. Feel the subtle ripples of your soul no matter how distant you are; you'd be stood in a coffee shop, he'd be at Jujutsu High teaching, and yet feeling you.

Because as he promised to you at 17, "Half my soul is yours. And half your soul is mine. I'll always be with you even if I'm not there."

He has the biggest breakdown of his life in that little cramped suffocating claustrophobic eerie creepy box.

It's 19 days later. He's out. He's back in the world. And he feels the sense of you, your existence, swelling in his chest, tickling his mind, prodding his heart.

"Gojo sensei, where are you headed?"

"I'm gonna go find my other half." he says cryptically.

It's a stark bright day.

Gojo Satoru knocks at your apartment door.

You open it.

He looks at you, and you look at him.

"Hi."

"...hey...? Wow. Haha... you grew into your features, huh?"

Your voice fills his heart with life.

"You too... glad you still live in the same place... I was worried you might have moved out..."

"... Ah, Satoru, you'd be able to find me no matter what corner of the world I resided in."

Your laugh fills his mind with pleasant memories.

There's an a magnetism between you and him just like there always used to be. It feels like two magnets connecting at last, after feeling the distant attraction throughout all these years of distance.

"You're right." Satoru says after a silence of just staring into your eyes.

"I'll always find my way home."

A silence ensues after he says this.

"...haha... don't cry... or I'll cry..."

"... Satoru... I thought of you every day after you left me at the station."

"... me too."

"... why did you leave?"

He stares at you.

"... I was scared of you being in danger."

He gulps.

"Me? In danger? But you're the strongest, why would it matter."

Oh god that's right. You said it then when you were 17, "You're the strongest" and he carried that title with him from then. And now you've said it again. He's reminded. He feels a bit stupid. A bit ridiculous. A bit...

"You're right..." he chokes up. "I am. I could have protected you I guess..."

"... yeah, duh."

He smiles meekly.

It was more complicated than that, sweetheart. But I won't tell you.

He hesitates. He contemplates.

"I have to tell you everything... will you promise to believe everything I say even if it sounds insane?"

"Of course. What is it?"

He inhales deeply. And instead of blurting out his whole life story of being a sorcerer in the Jujutsu world, he just leans in and kisses you hard and truthfully. Cups your cheeks. Closes his eyes. Tastes you like a sweet from his childhood that he hasn't had for years. Presses to you. Takes in your scent.

Yeah yeah... he'll tell you everything in a minute.

But for now just let him kiss you until he runs out of breath.

Let him just...

"Hey..." he pulls away, gasping, "Let me marry you."

"Haha, Satoru..." you take it as a joke and laugh, because it sounds as bizarre and unexpected as one. Then you realize there's that serious look on his face. "... Satoru?"

"Can I?"

"... what?"

"Can I please?"

"... huh??"

"Can I marry you, please?"

He looks at you and waits for your answer. His poor heart. It's palpitating. His whole chest cavity inspires with love for you. This man that you haven't seen in years has just asked if you'll let him marry you — with very specific wording.

Can he? Will you let him?

It's funny in a way, because you think to yourself; this is such a Satoru thing to do... show up unannounced years later on your doorstep and ask for your hand in marriage as if no time has passed, as if you know the full story.

"Satoru... what happened to you throughout these years for you to come back to me and ask for my hand in marriage?" you ask, genuinely baffled.

He swallows slowly. "I know I sound like I've lost my mind. But I promise I haven't."

"That's hard to believe. The Satoru I remember was always on the brink of mania. A bit insane but not quite."

You make him laugh. "Yeah..."

"So are you asking to marry me out of insanity?"

"No."

"Well alright then. I guess I'll marry you."

You make him laugh again, with that funny tone. He hasn't laughed genuinely in years... it's always been that plastic laugh. But this is his genuine laugh. Silky and quiet. The opposite of his demeanor.

"I guess I should be explaining everything to you properly... before I ask you something like that."

"You're damn right..."

"... don't scold me too hard when I tell you all the reasons I left. Or, if you do, then at least hold me while you scold me. And run your fingers through my hair like you used to."

"Satoru."

"Yes?"

His heart throbs. He looks at you.

"Stop standing at the doorway and come inside."

"Oh."

You sigh. He smiles. Then he bows his head so it doesn't hit the top of the doorframe. Damn tiny Tokyo apartments. Your archway always had it out for the crown of his head. You laugh when he bumps into it just like he always used to.

So the two of you sit down and just talk. And talk. Maybe cry a bit. Actually, you cry a lot. And he holds you. And he says he's sorry. He says sorry over and over, as if the word is a bandage he's trying to wrap around all your heartbreak wounds that he caused.

"I'm sorry."

Satoru's apologies aren't easy to come by, and when you receive them, they nurse your heart. It's the gentleness with which he says it, and earnest too. Each successive sorry means more than the last.

"My angel..."

When you call him this after he vents to you about his time in the Prison Realm, and his overwhelming duty of being the strongest, he breaks down completely and just weeps in your arms.

He sobs like you've never heard him sob before, like a dog.

Finally. At least for a moment. He could be weak. Let down his guard. Be raw. Be emotional. Not a teacher. Not a sorcerer. Just your boy. Your Satoru.

Your consolation is all he wanted throughout these years. He looks up at you, eyes red and sore, nose sniffling, and stares at you like he can see your soul.

"...Satoru?"

"Marry me."

You chuckle again.

"If that will stop your tears..." you joke.

He sniffles loudly and swallows, composing himself.

"I thought about marrying you so much when we were together... 'n I tried so hard to bite my tongue when your name nearly rolled off it while talking to my students some days. I was always..."

On the verge of saying your name.

He sniffles long and hard and waits for your hand to weave into his hair.

"Will you think about it?"

"I will."

There's a silence. Satoru feels hopeful. He lays on your chest, arms around you like you're his whole world that he won't dare let go of again.

"There." you say with finality. "I thought about it. Let's get married."

"That took you, like, ten seconds."

You laugh with him. "Yeah... I already knew in my heart when you asked me at the doorway... you know... Satoru... it's funny. When you left, it felt like half my soul was gone. And when you knocked on my doorstep, it felt like I was whole again. Does that sound freaky, or does it tie into all this... Juju... Jujutsu stuff?"

He's silent.

"I have no idea."

"Wow. My future husband isn't knowledgeable at all." you joke.

His heart flutters at 'future husband'.

"Sorry." he says, smiling softly, "My mind is blank when your fingers are running through my hair."

The two of you go on and on, until you're laid in bed sleeping at each other's side. Resting. And god, did Gojo Satoru need a good rest.

In your arms, he's no longer an insomniac.

Do not plagiarize / repost / translate / copy layouts / etc.

Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

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leighsartworks216 · 3 months

Text

Obedient Pet

dom!bottom!Astarion x male!sub!top!Tav/Reader

I saw a while ago something that said being dominant is not the same as being a top, and GOD it did things to my brain chemistry. So this mixed with my belief Astarion would be quiet in bed once he's comfortable and neglect to focus on his own wants/needs

SMUT BELOW THE CUT

Warnings: swearing, dacryphilia/crying, dom/sub, collars, gagging, not being able to breathe (for a moment), anal sex, face-fucking, references to punishment

Word Count: 1,276

Main Masterlist

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

The chain trailing from the collar around your neck to Astarion's tight fist rattled with every little motion. The sound would have been annoying if it weren't harmonizing with the wet slap of skin.

You kept your hands safely constrained, arms folded behind your back, nails pressing into your skin. You'd tried touching him once already; your cock still weeped from the torture of waiting. Your tears and quiet whimpers were music to Astarion's pointed ears, but the sight of you so drunk on his orders was truly something special.

"Slower," he ordered. You whined, but obeyed. You gasped as you forced your hips to pull out maddeningly slowly, until the flushed tip of your sensitive cock nearly slipped out. With the slightest tug at your chain, you thrust just as slowly back inside. "Good boy."

Astarion smirked at the visible reaction his words had on you. The chill that chased goosebumps down your body, the swallow to fight back your moans, the beautiful way your chest and stomach rose and fell with each hot breath. To say nothing about the feeling of your cock twitching within him, or the pitter-patter of your heart.

You were not dominant, that much had been clear to the vampire practically from the moment he laid eyes on you. Two hundred years gave one a sense for these things. He relished in fucking you face down into the dirt or settling your legs over his shoulders as he ruined you. But this? This was pure ecstasy. Being fucked by a pet who answered to his every command - now that was something.

"Are you close, pet?" he purred sweetly. You nodded with an acute franticness. He tugged at your chain, dragging your face closer, forcing your wet eyes on him as you keened so deliciously. "Use your words."

Like the pitiful whine of an injured dog, you cried, "Yes."

Even through your tears you could see the gears turning in his head as he decided whether to end your suffering or see just how much more you could fall apart. With a hum, he eased up on your chain, allowing you to sit back up on your knees. "Go ahead then. Cum for me, my dear."

He groaned as you set a frenzied pace. Fast, deep thrusts that tuned him into his own body, making him realize how much your own punishments and obeying had affected him.

You panted as you chased your high. It was right there, within reach. You could feel it coming up on you like a runaway carriage. You fought through the building euphoria to look at your lover. His head was tilted back into the pillow, mouth open and eyes shut as he lost himself to your own desperation. His cock lay heavy on his stomach, bouncing with each thrust and glistening as precum dripped onto his pale skin.

But the most maddening thing of all, the sight that sent you careening over the edge, was watching your dick fuck into him. You cock disappearing into his asshole as it clenched around you, pushing so fucking deep inside. Your breath caught in your throat, your thrusts became short. With his name on your lips, you buried yourself as deep as you could and released. Your cock twitched and strained as you spilled hot strings of cum inside Astarion.

He bit his lip, back arching. When you pulled your soft cock out of him, still dribbling cum, he growled quietly with frustration. He had not found his release. No matter - he was no stranger to finish himself off later. He would just-

"Ah~!" His eyes shoot open and nearly roll back in his skull as he watches you suck at the head of his dick. Your eyes are closed. Your hand guides him to your mouth, squeezing and stroking him in small, slow motions.

He props himself up on one hand, the one holding the chain, and tangles the other in your hair. "Good boy," he mutters, far too focused on your tongue licking at his slit to try sounding in any way dignified.

You bob your head, hollowing your cheeks as you slowly work more and more of him into your mouth. Your teeth graze his skin, like a silent threat. He wonders for a brief second if that is how you feel when he bites you; the trust that he will not drain you dry with the thrill that he could nonetheless.

"Fuck," he breathes sharply as his tip prods the back of your throat. He grips tighter at your hair, holding you in place, your nose pressing against his abdomen. He can feel the shaky breaths you take, struggling around his cock.

He lifts your head back up, almost pulling you off. Even now, you are so obedient. All the power is in his hands. It's addicting.

As you suck languidly at the head of his cock, you open your eyes to look up at him. Your pupils are dilated, lids drooped ever so slightly. Drool slips from the corner of your mouth, down your chin. Your cheeks shimmer with nearly-dried tears.

"So beautiful." He sighs as he guides you back down on him, groaning as you swallow around him. "Fuck. Such a good pet."

Your eyes shut again as you allowed yourself to be fully controlled. It started out rather slow, never pushing too far. All too quickly, it devolved while he chased his release.

He could not guide your head fast enough. With a string of curses you couldn't understand, he fell back onto the bed and grabbed your head with both hands. He held you steady as he thrust up, cock rutting against the back of your throat. You gagged and fought to breathe through your nose, but you did not stop him. More tears pooled in your eyes as your lungs ached.

With a few final, harsh thrusts and the sweet whisper of your name, hot cum filled your mouth. You clutched at the bed as you struggled to swallow it all. You aren't sure if he noticed your struggle, or if he'd only done it for his sake, but he pulled you off of him before he was fully finished, spilling the last of his seed on his stomach.

You breathed greedily through your nose as you swallowed the last of his cum, opening up your mouth and showing off the flat of your tongue to prove it.

His cool hands gently released your hair and worked instead to brush the tears and spit off your face. You tiredly leaned into the touch, welcoming every soft caress.

"Are you alright?" he asked quietly, worriedly.

You nodded slightly. Your throat ached, your hair stung where he'd pulled on it, your body was exhausted, but you were no worse for wear. You cleared your throat with a wince and murmured, "Just gotta breathe."

He brushed his thumbs over your eyelashes. "I'll try not to get so carried away next time.” He tsked. “You mortals are so fragile."

You smiled and finally opened your eyes. He grinned. Your body complained as you sat yourself back up, shivering as the cold chain brushed your skin. Astarion followed you up and worked quickly and efficiently to remove the leather collar. He set it aside in favor of brushing his lips over the raw skin.

"You did so well," he hummed. Your head fell to the side automatically, allowing him more access. As tempting as it was, you were drained enough without him taking a sip. Instead, he pressed a kiss to your jaw and pulled away. "Come on, dear. Let's get you cleaned up."

---

Tag List:

@satelliteapotheosis @hypopxia @flsalazar @beverlybeav @angelofthorr @emiemiemiii @marina-and-the-memes @furblrwurblr @cappsikle @mjmygd @thegirlsadventuresinwonderland @kindadolly @bloopthebat @pandimoostuff @chesb0red @black-star1472 @sessils @puppyg1rl666 @cyber-dump-171 @twinkliker3000 @cherifrog @catching-fire-in-the-wind @thespectacularspaceace @lynnlovesthestars @ashrio20 @bambamwolf87 @astarion-imagine-archive @thistrashisreadytobash @bongwaterflavoredgatorade @the-lake-is-calling @nyxmainex @squid-killer @godoffuckedupcats @dark-angel-is-back @gaymistakeboi @asterordinary

#fanfic #fanfiction #astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x male tav #astarion x male reader #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #baldur's gate astarion #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 astarion #male reader #x reader #x male reader #smut

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kumawaii · 3 months

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DREAMS DO CUM TRUE | KSY

cw - possessiveness, manipulation, cheating, unprotected sex, creampie

– original request

∘₊✧─── 𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓸𝓻𝓼 𝓭𝓸 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽 ───✧₊∘

bestie!soonyoung is the ultimate manipulator. his pretty, easy going smile is capable of fooling even the most perceptive people. it’s the reason why you’ve always trusted him so easily. his lies are so pretty and sound like everything you want that it’s hard to think of them as anything other than the truth. that blind trust is what he uses to finally have you in the way he’s always wanted.

your fiancé is a good man. kind, smart, loyal — all the makings of a perfect husband. bestie!soonyoung knows this, but isn’t at all impressed by him. in fact, that man couldn’t be any more wrong for you. he’ll never know you like your best friend does. any potential happiness you might have at your fiancé’s side doesn’t compare to how you’ll feel at his side.

bestie!soonyoung doesn’t feel bad when he plants the first seed of doubt in your mind. it’s casual when he does it, too — a common slip of the tongue, if you will. he mentions that he saw your fiancé at the club the other night with some coworkers. your face falters, questioning him on when exactly that was. he tells you, and you immediately get defensive when you tell him it’s not possible because he was visiting his parents that night. your best friend backtracks with a stutter, saying it must’ve been his mistake.

you would’ve let it go, but there’s a nagging feeling in the back of your mind that won’t allow you to. it gets worse when bestie!soonyoung invites you to get some coffee. all is well until you see your fiancé across the street in some floral shop with some woman you’ve never seen. your heart sinks when you remember him telling you that he was working late.

on an insecure whim, you send him a text asking if he was still at work. you have to hold back tears when you see him pull out his phone and type back a response that he was and to not wait up. luckily, your best friend distracts you enough for you to hold back your tears, but the doubt and insecurity doesn’t go away.

the final straw to this game of lies is when you’re over at bestie!soonyoung’s house. he gets a call from your fiancé which he puts on speaker as he rummages through his cabinets for a snack.

“i have to admit that lying to y/n is getting easier.” your fiancé says. “she trusts me so much that she can’t doubt anything i say.”

before either of you can say anything, a woman’s voice calls his name in the background. he abruptly calls the call short, saying he’ll call later before the line goes dead. bestie!soonyoung looks at you with a sympathy that you can’t stand. he’s always so happy and enthusiastic that seeing him so down because he knows how horrible you must feel is killing you.

“maybe it’s not what you think.” soonyoung doesn’t sound like he believes his own words.

you let out a bitter laugh. “we both know it’s exactly what i think.”

the air between you two is tense and awkward. you wish that it didn’t hurt so badly, but it does. all those years wasted on someone who betrayed you and thought it was easy to do so because of the trust you had for him is as infuriating as it is heartbreaking. now all you want to do is hurt him the same way he did you.

luckily, bestie!soonyoung is always willing to help you out. because unlike all the other men that have come and gone in your life, your best friend has never betrayed your trust. it’s why you don’t feel even a shred of remorse as he pounds his thick cock into your tight pussy.

his hips are snapping into yours, legs hooked over his arms as he opens you up further for him. you’re seeing stars at this point, only able to feel his weeping tip slamming into you repeatedly. there’s a gentleness to his animalistic thrusts. maybe it’s the ways he’s looking at you, or the way he’s telling you how pretty you are and that you’re like a goddess to him. either way it feels good because you know he’s being completely sincere.

“y-youngie!” you moan, body tensing as he pushes you over the edge. you coat his entire cock with your orgasm, leaving him dripping in your essence.

his smirk is hot and devious, but you eat it all up. bestie!soonyoung’s eyes fall to the ring on your finger. he starts to fuck you harder as a growl pushes at his throat. “take that ring off sweetheart. you belong to me now.”

when you fling it across the room like it means nothing, soonyoung spills his cum inside you. his mouth covers yours in a hungry kiss, claiming every inch of your mouth as his now. he’s insatiable, but you happily feed this fire growing inside him.

that’s how you spend your night, fucking your best friend raw and enjoying pleasures you’ve never felt before tonight. at one point, you facetime your fiancé as bestie!soonyoung hits it from the back. his fallen face when he hears a man’s groans and loud squelching is satisfying. he tries to make sense of seeing you naked, face down and ass up as a big cock that isn’t his splits you open.

“it’s over.” you say through a filthy moan. “get your shit out of my apartment by tomorrow.”

just like he did before, you hang up the call before he can say a single word. with a satisfied smirk, you toss your phone aside and start to meet your best friend’s thrusts with unadulterated chants of his name.

when the night is over and bestie!soonyoung has you sleeping in his arms, he checks his phone to see several missed calls and a series of texts. they’re from your heartbroken ex who can’t believe you’d cheat on him when he had been secretly planning the ceremony of your dreams.

in the last text, he asks your best friend if he knows who the asshole you left him for is. bestie!soonyoung smirks, almost tempted to tell him it was the same guy who gave him the idea to plan the wedding of your dreams without you knowing. instead he just blocks his number and pulls you closer, knowing that you’re only his now.

#kumawaii.exe #midnight.hourz #hoshi smut #svt smut #soonyoung smut #kwon soonyoung smut #hoshi x reader #svt x reader #soonyoung x reader #kwon soonyoung x reader #hoshi fic #svt fic #soonyoung fic

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phoen1xr0se · 7 months

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I am a writer.

I started writing for the first time in over 18 years on the 2nd September this year. Only 25 days later, I have written 17 chapters, 58,503 words, my story read by 4,141 people, and have readers begging for more.

Now let me come to my point - what I am writing is fanfiction. And immediately this seems to discredit the effort, the hard work, the quality, the content - definitely not seen as proper writing. I'm not a proper writer. Because if it can't be turned into something I can make money from, if the ideas and characters aren't all my own, none of it is valid. I've been asked why I'm wasting my time on it when I could be writing something real (what they mean is something I can profit from).

The reason I picked up the figurative pen and began writing again is because I was so inspired by a pair of characters that I wanted to delve into them and learn them, elaborate on them, build a world around them. Writing about them brings me deep joy, finding beautiful words and painting a picture with them that makes not only me but my readers weep is a kind of magic I thought I had lost long ago, back when I still believed in love and people basically being good and all that shit. To know I still have that power, that I am making other people FEEL just through what I have to say, has brought me back from a very, very dark place.

Maybe I'll write my own stuff some day. Maybe I won't. But what I do know is that I will never do anything that's THIS difficult and all-consuming if it doesn't give me joy, or bring joy to others. I do it because I can't not do it. Because the story is screaming to be told, and I do my best to find the words to tell it.

A month ago I wondered what would happen if I turned the wheel of my car and flew off a bridge.

Today, I sat in St James' Park and wrote part of a beautiful chapter about a demon who has been rejected, abandoned and feels he is unworthy of love, who pushes people away, who cringes away from everything good because he knows he will ruin it like he ruins everything, who refuses to accept kindness because he feels he doesn't deserve it. As I wrote, I healed us both.

And it was a good day.

#good omens #neil gaiman #crowley #aziraphale #good omens fandom #aziracrow #michael sheen #david tennant #good omens 2 #ineffable husbands #good omens fanfiction #fanfiction is life #good omens saved my life #thank you neil gaiman

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mooshkat · 7 days

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starting thinking abt buck with nipple piercings and how tommy might feel abt them and uhh wrote a lil tiny smth.

“What happened here?” Tommy asks one night, as his thumb rubs circles over Buck's left nipple. He's lying between Buck's legs as they lay in bed together, trailing his fingers over the scars and tattoos spread across his body.

How his boyfriend still has the energy to do anything but lie there with him after the fucking they did, Buck doesn't know. He swears his brain melted and leaked out of his ears after Tommy got determined to give him a second orgasm before he was finished coming down from the first.

“What?” he tries to ask, lifting his head up to see what the man is talking about. Tommy's gaze is fixated on Buck's nipples, and he looks ready to lean in and bite them. It makes Buck shiver as he remembers the last time Tommy got fixated on them, pinching and rolling them between his fingers until Buck's cock was practically weeping. He feels a phantom ache from that night hit him and swallows back a whimper.

After shaking away that train of thought, it takes him a few seconds to piece together what Tommy is seeing, looking at them that closely for the first time.

“Oh, the scars? I used to have my nipples pierced back in college. It was a dare from some of the sorority girls I was hanging around,” Buck tells him, and he has to bite back a smirk at the way Tommy's breath hitches and his eyes darken. “I actually kept them for a while too, but I had to take them out for SEAL training and I just never got them redone. Which worked out, I guess, since we can't have them as firefighters either.”

Tommy hasn't looked away from them yet. “Do you…” he has to clear his throat before talking again, “do you have pictures of when you had them?” There's pink high on his cheeks from how flustered the thought makes him.

Buck laughs and can't help but to reach out and touch Tommy, running his fingers through his hair. “Maybe? I'd have to dig through my phone, and maybe even ask Maddie. Why? Does the idea of me with piercings turn you on?”

A different thought hits him and he hums, curling his fingers into a fist, still gripping Tommy's hair. It makes the older man moan and lean into the feeling. “Or is it the idea of younger, fratboy me with piercings that makes you all hot and bothered?”

The blush on Tommy's face gets even redder. “Evan,” he says, voice almost strangled.

Buck eases up on his grip and lets it go. For now. “Alright, alright. I won't tease anymore.”

Three days later, Tommy gets a text from Buck while he's at work, with a photo attached.

Finally found one! Here you go babe (;

The picture is of Buck, years younger and far more lean than the beefy man he is today, shirtless with a backwards baseball cap on his head. Bright, silver barbells pierce through both of his nipples.

Tommy nearly drops his phone as soon as he sees it, and has to go take care of himself in the bathroom before he can think clearly enough to text him back.

Just you wait until I get home, Evan.

#911 fic #bucktommy #kinkley #evan buckley #tommy kinard #katie.txt #moosh worbs #this is only 500ish words and i don't have any more so i didn't want to bother posting it to ao3

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haggishlyhagging · 9 months

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Mother says the doctor let her hemorrhage all through the night I was born. The pool of blood that splashed around her hips on the rubber sheet until morning is symbolic to me of the life she, and her mothers before her, have bled away for others—making vampires of their husbands and children and leaving their own inner selves anemic and ravaged.

Dad first saw her in the summer of 1923, galloping bareback over the Idaho plains in men's overalls, her hair whipping behind her. Because there were so few sons and so many daughters in the Howell family, Mom helped with the outdoor farm work. The labor was often so heavy and so almost impossibly hard that it made the small, slender girl weep as she did it. Despite that, Mom still preferred it to the work of the women in the house: the endless cooking and scrubbing, sewing, soapmaking, preserving. Just washing clothes was a superhuman feat, boiling water over an outdoor fire and stirring and wringing and hanging and ironing—a two-day chore that had to be done every week by all the women of the house.

Her mother, short and plump and silent, was the first one up in the morning to build the fire, put the bread in to bake, and prepare the huge breakfast, and the last one to bed at night. Mom says her mother was always tired and didn't talk much, but confided to her once that she only wanted to live to get her children grown and then to die. She got her wish. Mom's father, whom Mom idolized, lived through two more wives after her mother died.

Mom filed all this away in her unconscious.

Late one summer night, three years ago, in the kitchen of my house in Virginia where womanhood finally found and claimed me, for the first time my mother looked squarely at what it had meant in her life to be female. On the farm in Woodruff, she confided, the men came in from their work at dark, ate supper, sat around and talked a little, perhaps, and then went off to bed, while the women, who had been up in the morning before the men, wearily washed the dishes (without soap, so the water could be fed to the pigs) and got to bed an hour or two later. I asked her what she thought of her near-perfect father for behaving this way. Her eyes filled with tears and she whispered, "It wasn't fair."

Since that night she has regained some of her defenses against recognizing the blatant injustices of such a system, so when I've reminded her of what she told me that night, she's insisted that she hadn't remembered correctly, and that her father often had helped with the dishes and had not gone to bed leaving the womenfolk still hard at work. But I remember that night in my kitchen and the terrible things that were dawning upon both of us, and I know she remembers what was required of her as a girl. After a bonebreaking day in the fields, she was to drag her exhausted body and her screaming muscles about the kitchen to help the women with the supper and the washing up while the men were allowed—even expected and encouraged—to rest. And despite going to bed two hours later than the men, she had to arise earlier than they did the next morning to begin it all over again. There was no rest for the women—only endless drudgery until the children were reared, and then death.

-Sonia Johnson, From Housewife to Heretic

#sonia johnson #female oppression #patriarchy #male entitlement #males are incompatible with health #womens history

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joelalorian · 1 month

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Fall Into Me - Chapter Five: My Whole World Came Alive

dbf!Joel x f!reader

Summary: Joel is hanging on by a thread as a single father to a tenacious 10-year-old Sarah. Feeling like he's drowning, like the world is about to spit him out, he needs some help before he breaks in half. At your dad's insistence, you show up in his life and change everything.

Story is inspired by the song Fall Into Me by Forest Blakk. Chapter titles will be lyrics from the song.

Word Count: 2.9k

Chapter Warnings: Mature, under 18 take a hike. No outbreak AU. Lots of feelings, confusion, and self doubt. Two idiots falling and pining for each other, and finally some progress. Tommy keeps it real. Age gap of about 9 years (Reader 24/25, Joel 33/34). No use of y/n. Reader has a nickname used only by her dad. Emily is modeled after my sister and JB is based on my dad, who used to try setting me up with his younger work buddies when I was in my 20s :)

Dividers by the wonderful @saradika-graphics

Thank you all for reading! Comments and reblogs make me weep with gratefulness.

Some of the tags aren't working in the taglist - if you're not getting the notifications, please check your settings to make sure you are taggable. Thx!

Chapter Four | Main Masterlist

Sitting in Phil’s Icehouse with juicy burgers and drinks – you insisted Joel try a mimosa – conversation flowed between the two of you. Joel found his lips twitching into a smile at nearly every word that came out of your mouth. He was fascinated with the stories you shared of your college years, and he listened, completely enraptured, to your plans for the future. Every bit of your lunch together felt like a date. He wondered if you felt the same, yet he couldn’t find the courage to ask outright.

“Yeah, so, I have a meeting at Sarah’s school this week for a possible position. Remember that interview I mentioned a few weeks back? It went really well and now they want me to meet with the teacher who’s retiring and the principal,” you explained, sipping at your mimosa. “I’m pretty excited.”

Joel’s eyes lit up. He’d forgotten that you were looking at a position at Sarah’s school. “Wow, that’s great, darlin’. This would be for a science teacher position, right?”

“Yep. Middle grade science.” The beaming smile you flashed him nearly blinded Joel. “Wanna know the best part? If I get this job, I’ll have the same hours as Sarah, give or take a bit, so I can continue with the school drop-off and pickup for you. She might have to stay later with me somedays, but it’ll still work.”

Nodding, Joel’s mind was flashing lightyears forward, picturing you calling his house home and taking Sarah to school with you, coming home to have dinner together, watching TV in the evenings. Heart thudding in his chest at just the thought of you living together, Joel shook himself. He had to slow his mind down, put the brakes on those kinds of thoughts until after you were actually dating him, at least.

“You could be Sarah’s science teacher in a few years, huh?” Joel asked, focusing once again on listening to you instead of drifting off into daydreams.

“Could be, yeah,” you laughed. “I imagine she’d be my favorite student.”

He beamed at that. Conversation shifted to other things and soon your meals were finished.

“We should do this again,” you said, glassy eyes meeting his across the table, lips curved in a gentle smile. “I really enjoyed spending time with you, Joel.”

Fighting the urge to grab your hand and entangle your fingers, Joel smiled back. “Yeah, me too.” He wanted to kick himself for not saying more, for not asking you out for a real date. He just couldn’t find his words.

How was it that you made him so nervous?

Joel spent the next week in some kind of weird liminal space between a dream and reality, between agonizing confusion and utter happiness. Lunch with you on Sunday felt like a date – he asked you with the intention of it being a date, even if you didn’t know that yet. He spent the week thinking about that lunch, how you teased each other, laughed, shared stories of your past. How your gazes locked for longer than necessary, touches lingered, the smiles never fell from your faces.

It was wonderful, yet nothing was said of what it all meant – which was his fault, probably. Hence the roller coaster of feelings throughout the week.

He could tell you felt it, too. Doing as Tommy suggested, he started paying close attention to how you acted around him, how you looked at him when you thought he wasn’t looking. It was all starting to come together. He could finally see what Tommy was talking about.

You liked him. You really liked him, Joel Miller, overworked single father.

It was a wonderful feeling, knowing that someone liked him. It’d been way too long since he felt that way, that spark of hope for something more.

For the first time in a long time, he slept well the night before and woke early, eager to face the day and see you before heading off to work. He was already out front, filling a birdfeeder Sarah asked for, when you arrived.

“Good mornin’, darlin’,” he greeted, pulling the car door open for you once you parked in the driveway. His heart skipped a beat at the way you smiled up at him, taking his hand to help you out of the car. Your touch electric on his roughened palm.

“Hiya, Joel.” Your voice washed over him, warm as honey and twice as sweet. “Whatcha doing out here?’

Gesturing to the red barn-style feeder Sarah picked, he finished filling it with the wild bird seed the clerk insisted birds loved. “Just fillin’ our new birdfeeder.”

“Oh, what a cute feeder!” You admired the intricate features as it hung from the post Joel installed. “Sarah has been talking nonstop about birds this week. Hopefully we’ll see some good ones.”

“Hope so,” Joel hummed in return. “Don’t know much about birds personally, but I’m sure Sarah’ll teach me.” Your smile brightened at his sheepish grin.

“I have a bird guide I could give her to help identify all the different types that visit the feeder.” Your face lit up with excitement. “I even have binoculars from when I took an ornithology class in undergrad. I’ll bring them when I pick up Sarah this afternoon.”

“Orna what now?” Joel questioned. He had no idea what kind of class you were talking about, but he loved how smart you were.

“Ornithology,” you repeated, drawing out each syllable with a soft giggle. “It’s the study of birds. It was a really cool class. We had field trips around campus once a week to go bird watching. I got pretty good at naming the different species that we saw, but it’s been a while.”

In awe of you, Joel’s eyes crinkled with the strength of his grin. “Would you, uh, maybe want to go on an adventure with us tomorrow?” he asked, stumbling a bit over his words, a nervous energy welling up in his gut as he once again sort of asked you out. “We could go for a hike in the county park, and you could teach us about birds.”

You gazed at him, lips pursed in thought, for long enough that Joel began to fidget, brimming with recurring doubt. Did he misinterpret the signs after all? He wouldn’t be surprised. He wasn’t any good at this stuff anymore. You responded before he could spiral back into the land of self-doubt. “That sounds great, Joel. I’d love to.”

A visceral relief washed through him. “It’s a date then,” he said, his voice deep and rough while his dark chocolate eyes locked with yours. A satisfied smirk graced his lips as your eyebrows rose in surprise. Too quickly, doubt clouded your pretty eyes, and you laughed it off like he was teasing you. Joel sighed. He would be more direct next time. He’d get the hang of asking a woman on a date again someday. Hopefully.

“We’ll have to go early, is that okay? Birds are more active in the early morning hours,” you explained, heading for the door to find Sarah.

“That’s fine. We’ll make a day of it, grab lunch somewhere when we’re done.” Joel followed you into the house, already plotting out conversations in his head on how to properly ask you on a date.

The rest of the day went by in a blur for Joel and before he knew it, the job was finished, and it was only mid-afternoon when he arrived home. You pulled into the driveway with Sarah shortly after him and he came down from taking a shower to find the pair of you on the living room floor playing a racing video game.

“Hi Daddy!” Sarah exclaimed as he kissed the top of her head and took a seat on the couch. It didn’t take long before Sarah asked him to play as well and the three of you were taking turns racing against each other, laughing when one of you crashed.

There were moments, when your gaze would connect with Joel’s and he’d swear you shared the same thought – this was how it could be if you were together, a family.

“Do you want to stay for pizza? Tommy and your dad are coming over,” Joel asked when Sarah’s attention focused elsewhere.

“We have an early morning ahead of us, Miller. Don’t be up late partying with the guys,” you replied with a smile that reached your twinkling eyes. “I’ll stay for a bit, but then I need to go dig out the old binoculars and get my beauty sleep.”

“You’re already beautiful,” he murmured, watching your eyes widen as you smile demurely.

“You say the sweetest things, Joel.” Your voice held a teasing tone that drove Joel nuts. How was he ever going to convince you that he was serious?

Shortly thereafter, Tommy arrived, pizza and beer in hand. “Come on, Millers! I come bearing gifts. JB here yet?”

“I’m right here, ya troglodyte,” your dad called from the front yard, stepping up the porch steps as Tommy whirled around.

“What the hell did you just call me?”

“A troglodyte. Learned it from Spud and thought it fitting since you don’t close doors behind you.” He winked at you as he teased the younger Miller brother. Placing a kiss on your cheek, he added, “Hey Spud, haven’t seen you in a bit. Must be working too hard. Miller! You workin’ my daughter too hard?”

Joel spluttered. He was too busy gazing at you to pay much attention to JB and feared he got busted. “I hardly think so,” he grumbled, fighting the blush he knew rose to his cheeks.

“Ah, in the same ol’ grumpy mood, I see. Maybe this’ll help.” Your dad placed a 12-pack of Joel’s favorite beer on the coffee table before taking a seat in the recliner he always chose at Joel’s place.

The five of you sat around the living room, eating pizza with beer for the men and sodas for you and Sarah. The conversation revolved mainly around construction work, and you ended up taking your leave before the sun dipped below the horizon. Your dad followed not long after, eager to relax in his own well-worn recliner.

“Alright, nugget. It’s time for bed. We have an early morning tomorrow,” Joel said, swinging the young girl over his shoulder much to her delight. “Say goodnight to Uncle Tommy.”

“G’night Uncle Tommy,” Sarah squealed as Joel tickled her sides.

“G’night nugget.”

Always a good kid, Sarah went right to bed after brushing her teeth, but not before pestering Joel about why they had to get up early on a Saturday. Pressing a loving kiss to her forehead, Joel tucked her in. “We’re going on a surprise adventure. Now, to sleep with you.”

Returning to the living room, Tommy handed him another beer as the brothers watched Sportscenter. “Have you made any progress yet?” Tommy asked.

Matching dark eyes met as Joel shrugged. He knew his brother was talking about you. “Some, I guess. Told ya I took her to lunch on Sunday and that felt a lot like a date. I asked her to go on a hike with me and Sarah tomorrow. I told her it was a date after she agreed, but she thought I was jokin’.” He paused, taking a long pull from the bottle of beer. “Then, this afternoon, I told her she was beautiful and again she thought I was teasing.”

Swirling the bottle of beer in his hand, Tommy shook his head and chuckled. “She’s givin’ you a run for your money, brother. Good on her.”

“Good on her,” Joel mocked, but his tone quickly turned to pleading. “I need more advice. Surely you got something up your sleeve for women like her.”

“Nah, brother. The only way to get someone like her is to be yourself and keep chipping away. It’s clear she has as much self-doubt as you do, so it’ll take her time to believe you’re for real.” Tommy eyed his brother a moment as he mulled over the situation. “Though, I will say this. You need to start bein’ direct – come right out and ask her on a date, for fuck’s sake. Enough hinting at shit. It’s clearly gettin’ you nowhere.”

You arrived on the Millers’ doorstep bright and early the next morning, two travel mugs of coffee and a container of chocolate milk in hand. A pair of binoculars and Sibley’s Guide to Birds were tucked away in the bag you wore over your shoulder.

“Wakey, wakey, Millers! The early bird gets the worm!”

Joel and Sarah were perched at the breakfast bar when you let yourself in, both looking half awake and less than enthusiastic about being up so early on a Saturday.

“Too damn cheerful for this early,” Joel grumbled half-heartedly. His pitiful smile looked more like a grimace, yet you found it adorable. It made you ache to run your fingers through his hair until you drew a real smile from his lips.

“Don’t gimme that. This was your idea, Joel Miller!” you sassed in return, patting his broad shoulders. “Let’s go!”

Herding cats, that was the perfect analogy to describe the next fifteen minutes as you tried to get the Millers moving and into Joel’s truck. Just when you’d get one heading for the door, the other would disappear. Finally, you managed to wrangle them both into the truck and you were well on your way to the preserve. The ride didn’t take long, Sarah peppering you with questions about birds she found in your guidebook as Joel drove. By the time Joel pulled into a parking spot at the entrance to the trails, everyone was wide awake and ready to hike.

The morning was crisp and refreshing as you zipped up your jacket and looked around. You’d never been to this preserve before and wanted to find a trail map, but the mini-Miller was too anxious to wait for that.

“I can hear the birds chirping already, Daddy! Come on!” Sarah exclaimed, charging toward the first trail excitedly.

Joel beamed as Sarah took off, turning to you before following her. “Ready?” He reached out a hand, palm up and fingers splayed, inviting you to grasp it.

Your eyes trailed from his outstretched hand to his heavy gaze, uncertain of what to make of the signals Joel gave off. The feelings you harbored for the man grew stronger each day, yet you couldn’t quite get a read on whether he shared even a fraction of those feelings. Somedays, you thought he did. Yet others, you figured he thought you had a crush on him and found amusing. Your heart sunk on those days, causing the doubt to linger every time he did something to make you think otherwise.

The moment carried on too long, you realized, as Joel’s warm eyes began to shutter, the tender smile starting to slip. Bolstering your nerves, you plunged ahead and grasped his large hand in yours, tangling your fingers with his thicker ones. His hand was warm, skin roughened from years of working with his hands, and it felt wonderful against your smoother skin.

Heat flashed up your chest and neck as Joel led you down the trail to catch up with Sarah. A broad smile never left your lips as you walked.

“I meant it, you know,” Joel’s deep, gruff voice rumbled from deep in his chest and you glanced up to meet his gaze. “What I said yesterday, about this being a date. If that’s something you’re interested in.”

Heart thumping wildly, your mouth opened and closed a few times before you found your words. “Are you sure? I mean, yes. Yes, I’m interested.” You winced at how flustered you sounded, tripping over your words. And, worse yet, why was your voice so squeaky?

“Never been surer in my life,” Joel confirmed, his gaze searing your skin as he watched you, taking in every minute change in expression. His hand squeezed yours gently, steadying the butterflies in your stomach.

“I would really like that,” you replied breathlessly, relieved to finally have confirmation that the moments between you and Joel weren’t all in your head. You were on Cloud 9 until reality smacked you in the face. “But what about my dad?”

Sarah popped around a copse of live oaks, startling you both from. “Come on, you slow pokes! The birdies aren’t gonna wait all day for us to find them!” Not trusting you both to follow her on your own, the little girl latched on to your hand and pulled you along the trail. “You need to help me find the birds,” Sarah reminded you.

Joel’s hand still clasped in yours, you dragged him behind you, grinning over your shoulder at him. “I’m liking this date already, Joel.”

He beamed back at you. The three of you walked in silence for a bit, listening to the sounds of nature around you. When you spotted a bird blind, you handed Sarah the binoculars and the guidebook, challenging her to identify as many birds as she could from that spot. Joel stood next to you, watching Sarah enjoy the activity.

“Let’s see where this goes first before we worry about your dad,” he murmured. “I’d like to take you on a few dates first, okay?”

It made sense and you nodded, pleased at the way things were working out. Your hand remained in Joel’s throughout the birding adventure and though Sarah never mentioned it, her smile grew wide at the sight.

tbc

p.s. we should start building up to the good stuff in the next chapter.

Taglist: @mellymbee @untamedheart81 @anoverwhelmingdin @runningmom94 @leilanixx @pedropascalfan221 @lovelyjess69 @sarahhxx03 @sofiparallel @tammythr @lulawantmula @islacharlotte @allyourfavesinoneblog @lover-of-books-and-tea @pedropascalsbbg @ashleyfilm @brittmb115 @lilmizmoz @loveisacowboyyy @shotgun-shelby @deninoe @casssiopeia @caitlynsixxx

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel x female reader #the last of us #tlou #dbf!joel #Fall Into Me #pedro pascal #eventual smut #mutual pining #idiots falling for each other

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sunshine-theseus · 5 months

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World Cup Loses and Transfers | Frido Rolfö x Reader

Words: 3.2k Summary: you get knocked out of the wc but you meet the woman of your dreams (I’m giving Kristie the playing time she deserved at the wc), please pretend frido never got injured Warnings: slightly suggestive. i think that's it. barely proof read. Requested by - @realsociadadferminofan

Being called up to the national team for the first time when you’re 27, right before the world cup, was unexpected and terrifying. I only knew Kristie, Lynn and Kelly from playing with them at Gotham, closest to the Mewis due to both growing up in Boston and playing with her sister Sam for a few years in North Carolina. It was a national team that was relatively skilled and fluid with one another, and I felt like an unnecessary part in a smoothly working machine.

“This has to be a, a joke, right? It’s four.” Kristie runs her hand down her face as she holds her phone in a deadly grip. I stare out the window, looking across the city, trying to ignore the way my gut drops when her phone rings before mine.

“Is Y/n there too? It might be easier to do you both at once.” I hear the accent from across the room and solemnly stand, dragging my feet across the floor, and sit on the couch beside Kristie, waving at our coach.

“I wanted to talk to you, and just let you both know, that you’re both selected to go to the world cup.” I choke on the words of thanks I was about to spew out and don’t even try to hold the tears back.

I turn toward Kristie, who has a similar expression, and I pull her into me.

“We did it.” I whisper in her ear and she rubs a hand up and down my back before we pull away.

“Thank you so much, I’m so excited.” Kristie gives her thanks and I repeat a similar message.

“You deserve this, you both bring something to the team on and off the field and it’s exactly what we need for the world cup.” We thank Vlatko once more and bid him goodbye, and I break down.

Kristie pulls me back into her and I cry, I can feel her tears drop on the top of my head but neither of us say anything for a moment. We hold each other and feel the relief and excitement of it all.

“You deserve this more than anyone Kristie. We’re going to go to the world cup and show people we are worth it.” I wipe away her tears and we both agree to separate and call our respective people.

~~~~~

The beginning of the tournament is nerve racking, but we beat Vietnam 3-0.

Then we play the Netherlands, and Vlatko doesn’t sub on a single person, and I begin to get nervous for our time at this tournament. We tie 1-1 and no one is happy. We have to at least tie with Portugal to get through to the knock-out rounds.

Lynn starts, I get subbed on at half time for Andi Sullivan, and Kristie gets subbed on in the 54th minute for Lindsey Horan. We’re still 0-0 in the last 3 minutes of the game, but Rose makes a pass to Kristie, who manages to slip the ball to me, and I make a powerful shot from just outside the penalty box. The goalkeeper’s hand grazes the ball as it spins, but it still hits the back of the net.

I scream as I make a run for Kristie, jumping into her arms as Rose and Lynn and whoever else hugs us.

The whistle blows to continue, but barely a minute later it blows again, indicating the end of the game.

I fall to my knees and weep, players patting my back as they pass. Emily is the one who lifts me off the ground and hugs me.

“You fucking did it.” I cling to her for a long time.

I’m surrounded as we celebrate, and I finally feel like I belong. Being hugged and congratulated by veterans of the team, singing kid’s jerseys and signs. People care about me.

~~~~~

Neither Kristie nor I start for the game against Sweden, which hurts considering how well we played the other day, but we keep our hopes up.

In similar fashion to the game against Portugal, I’m subbed on at half time, Kristie joining me.

“Go out and make a fucking difference! We’ve got this girls!” Lindsey yells as we run back out onto the field, ready to win this thing.

We take our positions, Alex kicking off. I follow the ball with my eyes as I make my way to mark my player, almost running into her as she heads toward me. Fridolina Rolfö is one of the best players in the world, with a versatility that isn’t seen all too often, and she’s standing right beside me. I also try to desperately ignore my raging crush on the tall Swedish player as the ball falls to my feet and I try to manoeuvre around her.

I kick the ball through her legs and take on down the field again, making a pass to Kristie. She passes to Alex who takes a shot, but Mušović catches it and falls to the ground with ease.

After the full 90’, neither team yet to concede a goal, we prepare for an extra 30 minutes, possibly even penalties. Vlatko gives us the order before the extra time begins, and I begin to get nervous again.

We fight as hard as we can for a goal, while simultaneously trying to keep Sweden away. By the time the final whistle blows to indicate the extra time is over, we’re still at a stagnant nil-nil. Penalties will be the decider. We line up, Andi stepping forward to take the first kick for us. It drifts into the goal with ease, and I hug Kristie to my side in short celebration.

Frido steps up next, taking her spot in front of Alyssa. I try not to think about how arguably good she looks as she takes a deep breath. She lets it go and runs, slotting the ball into the right corner.

1-1.

Kristie takes our 3rd. In a calm fashion I’ve witnessed from her many times before, she places the ball on the spot, closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, and kicks. It flies into the top left corner, and I don’t waste a second in running out of the line and picking her up, spinning her around.

3-2.

Both teams struggle to convert another goal for a few shots, but we eventually end up 4-4. Then it comes to me. It’s up to me to get us through.

I line up with the ball, glancing to the left side of the net in hopes of confusing the keeper. I take three steps back, run, and kick the ball. It flies forward toward the right side of the goal and the goalie jumpers to the left. The ball looks like it’s about to go in, when it makes contact with the post, diverting it away from the net. I try not to fall to the ground, instead silently crying as Kristie holds me at her side, watching Lina Hurtig line up.

The world moves in slow motion as she kicks the ball. Alyssa gets her hands on the ball, but it flies back in the air and toward the net. She makes a dive to stop it before it crosses the line, sweeping it away. Both teams begin to celebrate in a moment of confusion, us hoping for a second chance to get through, Sweden believing they’ve knocked us out.

We wait in anticipation as the ref checks with the VAR, and I fall into Kristie’s arms, pulling us both to the floor as she announces the ball crossed the line.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” I whisper apologies in her ear as we both cry, watching Lina run to her team.

“It’s my fault.” I can’t lift my head to look anyone in the eyes. I failed this team.

“It’s not your fault, it was bad luck. You did everything you could.” She comforts through her own tears.

“You should go talk to Lynn and the others.” I say, pulling away. Kristie nods curtly, hugging me once more before standing up and leaving me to wallow by myself.

“Ursäkta mig?” (excuse me). I turn toward the person looming over me and come face to face with Fridolina Rolfö.

“You played very well today. I’m sorry for your loss. It’s not your fault.” She offers me a hand which I take nervously.

“T- thank you. But I should’ve been able to make that penalty. You played well too.” I stare at the ground, far too nervous about who I’m talking to, and disappointed in my performance.

“Would you like to swap jerseys?” my head whips up to look at the tall blonde.

“W- with me? Frido Rolfö wants to swap jerseys with me?” I stutter as she smiles down at me.

“If you don’t mind.” I waste not a second more in pulling my jersey off and handing it to her, Frido copying me. We pull them over our heads and some photographer takes a picture. I smile despite my puffy eyes and the tears that have yet to dry.

“You really should be proud of your performance today. Despite missing the penalty, you played the best you could. Maybe we’ll see you at Barca one day.” She pats me on the back and heads back to her team. I do the same.

~~~~~

A few weeks later I get a rather shocking email. The world cup ended about a week ago, Spain taking the trophy over England, and the NWSL was about to start back up. This email put a stop to my plans.

“Dear Y/n L/n,

Barcelona Femeni has deeply reviewed your performance at the world cup and at Gotham FC, and we wish to extend an invitation for you to transfer to Barcelona before the start of our 2023/24 season.

Please get back to us as soon as possible. We may be open for discussion on your salary.”

I try not to scream in excitement, hyperaware of the newly engaged couple sleeping in the room next to me, and decide to take a day to think about it and discuss the idea with Kristie and my family. I get up and begin to make breakfast for the three of us, a simple poached eggs on avocado toast, to keep me distracted.

Eventually Kristie and Sam emerge, and I present them with the idea.

“You have to take it.” Sam tells me deadpan.

“Well hold on a second. Maybe you should take a few days to think about it.” Kristie counters, and I begin to get nervous.

“Offers like these don’t just hang in the air Kristie. It’s the best move for her career.”

“What about her family? And the NWSL? We’re so close to the final.”

“What about what’s best f-”

“I’m doing it.” I interrupt what’s inevitably going to become a fight if I let it drag on.

“I’m moving to Barcelona. Sam’s right, these opportunities don’t just wait for me to be ready, and they rarely come more than once. My family will understand and so will the club. I hope. I have to do this Kristie.” The girl simply nods in understanding, and I smile at Sam before heading back to my room to reply.

~~~~~

A week and a half later I’m stepping out of a taxi and standing in awe in front of the Joan Gamper training grounds. I came in yesterday to put myself in their system and take the signing announcement photos but being here for training made it seem much more real.

I stand watching the likes of Aitana Bonmati and Keira Walsh walk past me and into the building when a hand lands on my shoulder. Once again, Frido Rolfö towers over me with a wide, welcoming grin that spreads across her face.

“They took my recommendation!”

“What do you mean?” I begin to walk alongside her.

“I strongly suggested that Jonatan watch your performances at the world cup and the NWSL after we versed each other. We need a strong midfielder like you who can also make goals. Very similar to Alexia.”

“Me? Like Alexia Putellas? You’re lying.” The Swede simply smiles again as she pushes open the door to the locker room.

“Hola!” a chorus of voices greet us as we enter. We’re clearly the last here.

It takes me a few days to start gelling with other players. These people were the best of the best and I had to prove I belong here, so I did just that.

“Mapi, Mapi! Here!” I yell to the centre back, pointing to where I want the ball. 5v5s could be hard but they made it seem easy.

It flies through the air and lands against my chest before falling to the ground. I seem to be in an impossible situation, but I spot a gap and hit the ball through, managing to run around Lucy and tap it into the goal past Sandra.

“VAMOOOS.” Mapi, Frido, Ona and Aitana run toward me.

“You’re so good.” Frido taps me on the head affectionately as she pulls me into her side in some sort of hug. I blush and roll my eyes when I make eye contact with Pina, who was very aware of my crush on the forward.

“Thank you Frido.”

There must have been something in the air because I continued to bang in goals all session.

I tap the ball back behind me to navigate around Alexia and chip it over Sandra, right into the goal.

I make a shot from the boarder of the penalty box, and it lands in the top right corner.

Aitana shoots the ball into the air and before I can think, I’m jumping and throwing my leg in the air behind me. It connects with the ball, and I turn my head to watch if it goals in as I fall to the ground. The net ripples behind Sandra and I’m at the bottom of the dogpile before I can say anything.

“You just flawlessly executed a bicycle kick what the fuck?!”

“How’d you do that?”

“Can you do that again?” a new question is presented before I can answer the previous and I just laugh. Eventually everyone gets off and heads to lunch, but Frido helps me up.

“You’re performing goals like that but you’re not a striker? Why?”

“It just feels right. I’ve always been told I’m best midfield even though getting goals has always been something I loved doing.” She hums and takes my hand as we follow the others.

~~~~~

“We’re playing truth or dare! No complaints!” Claudia shouts over the groans spewing from everyone’s mouths.

“It’s the ultimate team bonding experience. Come on.”

“I’ll go first!” Ona volunteers and we all wait to see who she picks.

“Mapi. I dare you to knock on your neighbours door, accusing them on stealing Bagheera.”

“But Señorita Ruiz is so nice, and old.” Despite the complaint, Mapi gets up and walks out of her apartment, Ona following her, and knocks on Ms Ruiz’s door.

“María Pilar! How dare you accuse me of stealing Bagheera! I look after him every time you go away and take good care of him! I would never do such a thing.” The sounds of what one could only assume to be a handbag hitting Mapi, echo down the hall.

“Lo siento, lo siento Señorita! Por favor my friend made me I’m sorry!” the subject of the quabble meows and struts out of the apartment and toward Señorita Ruiz’s.

“Never accuse me of such things again or no more buñuelos.” Eventually the two come back, Mapi red faced with Bagheera in her arms, and Ona giggling in joy.

“My turn I suppose.” Mapi seethes jokingly.

“Y/n. I dare you to play seven minutes in heaven with Frido.” I stop, but Frido is already standing, and I can’t say no.

“Let’s do this.” I whisper, apparently loud enough for everyone to hear, as they cheer and laugh.

I follow Frido to Mapi and Ingrid’s bedroom and close the door behind me. As soon as I do, I’m pushed up against the wood. My breathing stops and I flush red, trying not to look at her lips.

“If you don’t want this, tell me now. Otherwise, I’m going to kiss you because I’ve wanted to since I first saw you.”

“I want you to kiss me so bad.” She surges forward, pressing her lips against mine, and I grasp at the loose fabric of her shirt to pull her closer.

I don’t even try to talk as we continue to make out against the door. I try not to think about how hot she looks with dishevelled hair and ruffled clothes, my lip-gloss smudged against her own lips, otherwise we won’t be leaving this room.

Then comes an aggressive bang from the other side, Mapi yelling time is up.

“This isn’t over.” She whispers in my ear as she reaches around me to open the door and walks out. I stand still in awe as I watch her walk away, and Mapi has to usher me back to the circle where I sit next to Frido.

~~~~~

I went home with her that night and woke up the next morning buried beneath satin sheets with an arm around my waist, skin on skin. Despite the deep want inside of me to freak out, I take a breath and take in the world around me. The sun streams through the window and lands perfectly on the face of the woman beside me, making her skin light up and her hair seem like liquid gold.

I spot the pile of our clothes on the floor and giggle at the memory of how hard they were to take off last night in our rushed kisses. But then I remember how the rush slowed down. There was no other word to describe it except love.

Frido’s eyes slowly open and she grins at me, leaning forward and pressing soft kisses to my shoulder and neck. I sit up urgently and reach a hand toward the spot she just kissed, then stand and head toward the bathroom linked to her room. There on the side of my neck, is a row of small, dark purple hickies. Frido follows me in and wraps her arms around my waist, resting her chin on my shoulder, and continues to kiss every inch of skin she could reach.

“I have no way to cover these up before training.” I groan and throw my head back.

“Good.” She shrugs before kissing me on the lips, and then goes back to her room.

“You did it on purpose!” I whine.

“I will never admit that. Now join me.” She pulls me into the shower before I can protest.

Let’s just say we were nearly late to training. And I had to borrow her spare kit. And everyone most certainly knew what happened.

Ingrid was the first to point it out, poking a finger into the bruises on my neck and pointing them out to Mapi. I swat them away but it only brings more attention to us. Alexia is the next one over and she gracefully points out the 16 that replaces my usual 3. I look over to Frido for help but she just laughs.

“You know what? At least I’ve got a girlfriend. More than some of you can say.” I laugh along with some of them but Frido seems shocked. I tilt my head to the side in confusion, running my sentence through my head.

My smile drops but she leans over and kisses me.

“Yeah at least she has a girlfriend.”

#woso x reader #woso #womens soccer #wwc 2023 #fridolina rolfö #fridolina rolfö x reader #frido rolfö #frido rolfö x reader #barca femeni #barcelona femeni #uswnt #spain wnt

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munsonluhvr · 25 days

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♡ seven | steve harrington x reader (childhood friends to lovers) (record player series #1) word count - 1.1k

You shift in your seat, tucking your legs against your chest, leaning forward to place your chin on your knees. The soft, warm breeze blows against your skin, leaving goosebumps across your arms in its wake. Your eyes dart to catch Steve’s as he sits across from you on the same picnic blanket. His sparkling, brown eyes glance back at you, a small smile creeping across his mouth.

Even all these years later, he still has his boyish looks from when he was seven. The same messy brown hair, the same lopsided smile. Even after all these years, his gaze still makes you feel like you’re the only girl in the world.

It’s been nearly a year since you last saw Steve, college taking you to different sides of Indiana. You had managed to keep in touch, sending letters occasionally, but it didn’t fill the ache of missing your longest childhood friend. You, of course, made friends at school, but none of them made you feel like Steve, none of them understood you like he did. But as you sit across from him now, the tension between you feels different as if somethings changed.

Steve starts laughing softly, taking you out of your thoughts, his gaze turning from you to across his backyard. The large weeping willows drape over the empty space of his yard, nearly touching the patio chairs Steve’s parents have had for as long as you can remember. The sun warms the ground beneath you, and you let your fingertips disappear into the green fluff of the grass.

“D-Do you remember when I nearly broke my arm jumping off the porch because we were pretending to be pirates? Or when you got into an argument with your parents, so you packed your dolls into your sweater and came over to the house saying that you were coming to live with me?” Steve says between laughs. He shakes his head, reminiscing on the memories you made together as children; thinking about your seven-year-old self, cheeks pink and stained with tears standing on his back porch after the argument with your parents.

You nod, your eyes grazing across his back porch where you could nearly visualize that day as if it was yesterday. You could also remember when you had been playing pirates with Steve and had to run into his house, in search of his parents because he had jumped off the porch to pretend he was going overboard and fell on the ground hard, wailing in pain. Though, he only sprained his arm.

“I think I remember that you wiped my tears, hugged me until I stopped crying and told me we’d run away to India one day. Far away from our parents.” You say, a smile appearing on your own face.

Just then Steve’s eyes drops, his hand going to rub the back of his neck in a self-soothing way; he always did that when he was nervous or distressed. “Yeah, I guess I had a crush on you back then. My seven-year-old self-thought we could run away to India and get married.”

Your heart begins to thud against your chest, butterflies beating their tiny wings against your lungs. Steve had been your best friend for as long as you can remember, not once did you grow apart. Sure, being apart for college was difficult, but you did the best you could. What you had learned at college, however, is that the longing you have to see Steve, the ache you had for your best friend, was no longer platonic – it was love. The time apart from him, around others who didn’t get you the way he did encouraged you to truly understand your feelings for him. The realization had kept you up in your cramped dorm room night after night, but you finally accepted the truth. You loved your childhood friend.

“I-I didn’t know you liked me, ever.” You said, biting at your bottom lip. You can’t recall a single time you felt the sense that Steve could possibly like you more than his childhood best friend.

Steve continues to rub at the back of his neck, then runs a hand through his fluffy hair. “Sometimes I think I still do.” He says, glancing at you. His own heart thumps against his chest, a metallic taste flourishing in the back of his throat.

Steve had had his own realizations after you left for college, the time apart from you encouraged his mind to think about you constantly, missing your presence and the way you could make him laugh. He came to the conclusion he’s always had feelings for you, his younger self thinking it was plausible to sweep you away to India, your precious belongings tucked into your shirt, far away from your parents; but as time went on he had convinced himself that there was a very little chance you could feel the same about him and he hid his feelings until now.

Your jaw slacks ever so slightly at his confession. You can feel an even bigger smile beginning to appear on your face, but you don’t want to seem too eager. “I didn’t know that.”

Steve shrugs, his eyes still struggling to meet yours. His nerves are frayed, searching to find a hint in your voice or body language to see if he’s ruined the most important friendship he’ll ever have. “I didn’t know how to tell you; I could never tell if you felt the same.”

You reach out, your hand making its way to Steve’s that’s placed on the ground, holding him up. You let your fingers intertwine with his, the warmth of his skin brushing against your palm. “You should have said something,” you say, your voice coming out lower then you expected to be.

“Why?” Steve asks, his heart thudding against his chest, his heartbeat echoing in his ears. He’s afraid his heartbeat in his ears will drown out your answer and he’ll miss you saying something he’s waited so long to hear you say.

“Because I feel the same, and I also didn’t know how to tell you," you say. Once the word leaves your lips, the relief you feel makes your body feel light.

The urge to kiss your lips overcomes Steve and following his impulse he leans forward, his soft lips colliding with yours. You hum with pleasure, as Steve's hand reaches towards your, his nimble fingers intertwining with locks of your hair. You lean forward, deepening the kiss with Steve, the flavor of his lips is as sweet as the strawberries you had eaten only a few minutes before. Is this what you've been missing out on all this time?

Steve pulls back just enough to mumble against your lips. "I've wanted to kiss you ever since I was seven and you flashed me a smile with all your missing teeth for the first time." Then he leans back into you, his lips gently pressing against yours, as all of his childhood fantasies come true.

#stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x you #stranger things x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fan fiction #S

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fourmoony · 2 months

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Hi! I don’t know if you’re taking requests right now but your writing is so beautiful and genuinely so captivating!

I was hoping for a possible angst / fluff kinda fic! With Remus x reader

Starting off how the two met in school and how they became friends so fast + the rest of the group…going onto how the two began dating in their 3-4th year at school…onto when they left school into a proposal and marriage.

Then when the war begins again is when the angst slips in..maybe how Remus finds reader under some rocks or even them protecting Remus..for them both to be together at the end with their hands holding and it’s all angsty!

If this isn’t your cup of tea that totally okay! <33

Hi lovely!! Thank you so much for requesting!!

this is heavy on the angst, little on the fluff, hope that's okay!!

remus lupin x reader | masterlist - 1.9k words

from the vaults, since writing gives me the heebies rn

cw - death

Remus remembers the day he met you; your pristine, fresh pressed Hogwarts robes, and your swotty attitude, charging down the Express like a tyrant, wielding confidence he sorely lacked. You'd been on the hunt for whoever set off the stink bomb just outside the carriage you were in (it was James, showing off to Sirius, their friendship quickly and surely bonded together with the residual smoke of that foul little rock). Remus remembers you, often, that way. Always ready to take responsibility - or force it onto others, for their actions - and do what you believed to be right.

He knew in that exact moment, with the soundtrack of James and Sirius' hysterical laughter, the smell of pure, unbridled dung lingering in the air, that you were the bravest person he'd ever known, that when the sorting hat was sat atop your head mere hours later, there'd be no pause, no debate, you were Gryffindor through and through.

The only thing Remus hadn't accounted for, was that he, too would be placed in Gryffindor - with his nauseous stomach, shaking hands, and scars that made him feel small, rodent like, a glint of gold in the window that catches the eye long enough to peak interest, but amounts to nothing worthy of attention; rather, disgust.

Remus still sees a lot of that up-tight, bossy attitude in you, now. But more than anything, your bravery prevails. The war has taken a lot from you, from everyone he holds dearest. The first time, it was hard. Bearable, because James and Lily were alive, because Sirius wasn't locked up and losing his mind in Azkaban. There was hope, because they had Harry, and nothing was going to happen to any of them because everyone had to live to see Harry grow up.

Fools. The lot of them had been fools, he realises. This time, it's different, harder. There are no friends, no family left. It's you, and it's Remus. It breaks Remus' old, cobwebbed heart to see everything that has been taken from you both. The innocence, the joy. All that's left of you, these days, is bravery. Bravery that shines so bright, like a leading light, bravery that holds him together on the bad days, bravery that pulls sad, scared Remus out of his cocoon of dread and fear, forces him into the light. You've always been good at that - at love, at protecting the people whom you love.

It's what you do. They hadn't known it at the time - and really, how could they have? - but James and Sirius set off a stink bomb outside the carriage of a young muggle-born girl, terrified of her new school, her future, what this change would do to her. The stink bomb went off and Mary MacDonald had dissolved into hysterical tears. From the moment you came into Remus' life, you've been a protector. Your heart is your leading light, your entire being, a soul so pure it'd make angels weep.

He shouldn't be surprised. Really. The minute it the south wall of the castle blows up, Remus should know the lengths you'll go to. The things you will do to make sure the people you love are safe.

There's dust and rubble everywhere, clouding his vision, choking him until he can't breathe, and in the minute before the wall crumbles around you, your body taking ninety percent of the blast, hands fast in pushing Remus so hard he has no choice but to stumble back, away, in a daze, he sees your eyes. They're calm. So calm it's unnerving. He knows everything that people will say you never got the chance to tell him. He's known since he was sixteen everything you feel for him, the love, the gratitude, the admiration.

You've had a life together. Not all of it has been good - war and death, losses and pain so unimaginable Remus wonders how either of you ever got through it. But the quiet moments, the happy moments, not marred by battle, or grave stones, weeping, or bone crushing sorrow. The moments where all that mattered was both of you, the love, the happiness; the joy Remus felt with you is nothing he ever thought he'd get to experience, would ever deserve.

He knows. He knows you love him, he knows you're okay with the choice you've just made. But he's surprised.

In all the years you've spent together - all the funerals you've attended together, planned together - he always thought that when the time came, you'd both go together. Asleep, old and decrepit. Something peaceful, after the life you'd shared.

But the blood is still thrumming in his veins, the cogs in his brains till whirring as he stares at the pile of rubble that's fallen around you. He thinks, rather foolishly, and only for a second, that you may have survived. He thinks your sheer will and determination could still be pulsing in your heart, the bravery you wear so honestly wrapped around you like a coat of armour. But the bond that ties you to him, the mating bond, the marriage bond - Remus has never known which is which, it's all an overwhelming amount of love, to him - pulls taught. It snaps, like wisps of smoke between you, and Remus breaks with it.

He breaks so fast and so hard that the world crumbles around him and he loses track of where he is, what he's fighting for. It comes out of nowhere, a flash of light, of bright green light and Remus is grateful to be spared of the agony, because it's barely been two minutes and he had already felt like he was dying, anyway. The pain is nothing, in comparison to losing you, to live in a world without your laugh, your smile, your hard-headed attitude. He couldn't have done it, and so he feels peace as he crumples to a heap on the ground.

Maybe a silly part of him thought that you'd be waiting at the other end. In a way, you are. But, also, you're not. Because he's watching you as you charge down the Astronomy Tower stairs, the fourteen-year-old version of himself hot on your heels. He remembers this like it was yesterday. He'd kept his secret from you so well until that year, when the growth spurt started and the wolf got bigger and the scars ran deeper, in more noticeable places. The one that ran across his face.

You'd been horrified, he remembers. The look of unbridled fury as you demanded to know who on earth had done such a thing. You were never horrified of him. No. Just the mere idea that someone had hurt him, and it made Remus feel loved, protected. You made him feel loved and protected.

He watches as you reach the bottom of the steps, twirling to face him with your signature unimpressed scowl. He feels fondness like a ball of sunlight in his chest, mouthing the words 'you're a dirty liar, Remus Lupin!' along with you, the sound of your posh swotty accent ringing in his ears.

He'd went back to his dorm that night and made the decision to tell you, came up with a plan, the easiest way to break it to you. You arrived at his door two hours later, half way through his idea list, and told him you'd figured it out. He knew then that he loved you. For all you were bossy and uptight, he loved you, your impatience, your brain, your heart. Remus was in love.

You fade from his view and Remus steps forwards as though he might be able to grab you, keep you there. But the sound of your voice ringing out turns him on the spot, and you're by the black lake, picking daisies with Sirius to make daisy chains. The memories come flooding through, reliving his life through the good moments and the bad. He watches you both fight, cry, makeup. Getting together was a long, painful process, too many miscommunications, missed opportunities. You never did nail down how to express any feelings other than anger and frustration.

But the moment he had you, Remus never let go.

He watches the memories flash by, remembers every one with a heart so full it could burst. A beautiful life, is what he had. Painful, marred by coldness and death and a beast in his heart that he could never tame. But it was beautiful, and it was full of laughter and love, and joy because he had you.

There's your first kiss, heated and mid argument - because back then, Remus had to rile you up enough to snap just to get a lick of emotion from you. You were brave in many ways. Emotions were not one of them. All the milestones are there, flitting past faster than Remus would like. The end of O.W.L. exams, the party that followed, the frantic, unpracticed hands that flitted over each other's bodies in a secluded hallway that night. Summers at the Potter Estate, lounging in the meadows by the cool stream, fires and empty cans of cider, laughing until his bones hurt and his eyes shone with tears.

Your first flat, old and dingy, but you'd danced that first night in the kitchen for so long that the broken heater didn't matter. You'd made it a home.

The day Remus proposed, terrified out of his bloody mind, shaking so hard he dropped the ring box and you'd yelped as the silver banded ring went flying. He saved for years for that ring. You'd said yes, tears of joy and love and elation at spending the rest of your life with him, and spent the next hour looking for the ring in the grass with the help of Padfoot.

You walking down the aisle, a vision of pure beauty, that signature smile you reserved only for Remus, who was waiting at the end wondering what on earth he ever did to deserve you.

Snippets of a life well-spent fly past in a hurry, the blink of an eye, and Remus begins to feel melancholy. The rest of eternity as a conscious soul, reliving all of his best memories, but missing you still. He wonders if you feel the same, if you're watching the best parts of your life fly by, wishing there was more time, more words, more everything.

"We wasted so much time forgetting what life was like, then." Your voice is soft, wistful.

Remus turns and you're there, lips pressed in a thin line, looking very much like you're ready to scald him for following you this far. But Remus Lupin decided a long time ago that he'd follow you to the ends of the earth, so what is death, to that?

"I never forgot. It just got hard to get back to that, I suppose." He wants to reach out and touch you, see if you're real, or a figment of his imagination.

You hum in pensive agreement, "I was always happy with you. You know that, don't you."

How could he ever doubt it? "Down to my soul."

That smile. That mischievous, knowing, loving smile that Remus knows like the skin and bone of his body. Your hand extends to him, as real as the day he took yours in his, and promised to love you until death parted you both. Your chin jerks to the white plane ahead, Remus has no idea how far it stretches or where it goes, but he follows you, anyway, hand in yours.

"Everyone's waiting for us." You tell him.

So, Remus follows you home.

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panther-os · 2 months

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@amikoroyaiart did this awesome commission of my OC Lennie and my version of Ghost! I've wanted to commission her since I first came across her art over a year ago but it took me a while to save and just ahhhhhhh so worth it

Fun fact! The pants are uniform accurate. 141 is an international task force, and while Ghost and many of the rest of the team are SAS and wear black or navy fatigues, Lennie is an tArm (Irish Army) and wears that specific camo pattern! Their neon pink hair is definitely out of regulation, but no one dares call them on it.

Lennie is nonbinary and their full name and rank is Lieutenant Lennie Lynch. They're from Carrick-on-Shannon in Leitrim County of Ireland, and they're the 141's Chief Logistics & Supply Officer. Anything from toilet paper to ammo to fresh fruit to video games, it all goes through them. They have a ton of smuggler contacts in order to get supplies out to remote areas, and they use this network for information as well.

Basically Laswell's job, but more focused on keeping people alive via food and bandages and etc than keeping people alive via intel on the enemy.

Price met Lennie at the same time he met Nikolai. It was a joint an tArm and SAS operation where the two squads wound up trapped in a snowstorm with dwindling supplies, including much-needed medical supplies. Lennie asked for an hour with the sat phone, spent that time making threats and promises and calling in favors, and then Nikolai (the only pilot good enough and crazy enough) dropped off the supplies not too much later, which is how he and Price met. Then, a few years later, Price pulled Lennie for the Taskforce knowing their skills would be needed.

Lennie drinks far too many cups of coffee a day, barely sleeps, and spends the majority of their time in their dark office staring at computer screens. Their first date with Ghost was a joint nap on their office couch. Their best frenemy is @atohii 's OC Niko, the Chief Medical Officer, friend because they've made him weep tears of gratitude over the supplies he needs to keep everyone healthy, enemy because they've cut him off from energy drinks (the hypocrite) and gotten the entire rest of the base involved in it.

It's best assumed that Lennie knows everything and could be anywhere. They walk very quietly and often surprise people by slurping their coffee from right behind them. If they were an animal, they'd be a wild hare - the kind that surely speaks a thousand tongues and knows exactly how you die.

Ghost is still with Soap, and Soap is also with Niko, and sometimes Ghost and Niko are together as well, but romantically, Lennie's just with Ghost. We love a poly141.

This Ghost is based on TikTok cosplayer Kuromi (his account is tagged MDNI, please respect that) and Irish actor Fra Fee (because Les Mis is an old SpIn and my Ghost is Irish, his ggparents immigrated to Manchester during the Great Hunger). I don't have any specific scar or tattoo headcanons for Ghost, but I like Amiko's usual spread so I asked her to just use those, and I'm thrilled with how it came out!

And just ahhhhhhh I'm still screaming over Lennie 😍

#/incoherent noises/#call of duty #amikoroyaiart #cod oc #my oc #oc #simon ghost riley #lt lennie lynch

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bunnystalker · 4 months

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father's friend (18+)

you are just what he doesn't need.

cw; afab reader, reader in a skirt, dad's friend wesker, major age gap (14-17 years), fingering, degradation, implied multiple orgasms, reader is a little naive and wesker eats that up, predatory almost???, inappropriate use of mirrors, daddy kink if you squint (get a microscope)

terms of endearment; dear (reader receives)

a/n; i don't know how this became what it did bc this was supposed to be fluff. if you'd like the fluff version, i'm more than happy to provide that, just let me know!

when albert wesker pictured his life, he saw greatness. he'd dreamt of sanitizing the world with uroboros, his pet project of years would finally come to fruition. the world would be the perfect place, full of the superior and cleansed of the lesser. his dreams realized.

what he didn't anticipate, however, was you.

you, who came into his life when he was 38 years old, fresh off the high of the mansion incident. mostly human, partially not. he'd changed his clothes- only black attire from that point forward- and kept a low profile because he should be dead, but he's not. with no body to find, they gave up on the search only months later. he'd slid under the radar with a new identity and relocated across the country to some small town on the east coast.

at the time, you were in your early twenties. maybe 24, 21 at the youngest. you were youthful and so sweet, painfully naive and lacking experience of life's true cruelties. without scars that held stories to be told, or nightmares that took hold of you in the night.

unmarked. untainted. flawless. you.

and you hadn't meant to draw his attention. you, the child of his best friend. oh, you were tempting. how whenever he was over, you'd greet him with a little "hi mr. wesker" despite him telling you over and over to call him albert.

he hung around your father because he was an operative of umbrella as well, and albert needed connections. you were quick to teach about certain things, your doe eyes drawn to him whenever he merely breathed. like you were waiting for something.

naturally, you'd maintained a healthy distance for a long time. the routine you two had whenever he'd stop by- almost daily- the greeting, the glances, the lingering, subtle touches on each other's arms, shoulders, backs, wherever you had access to that wouldn't draw immediate attention.

your father never noticed. not as he fell asleep on the couch one night. not when albert ensured the roofie he'd given your father had settled, then snuck up into your room after.

not now, as he has you on his lap, your legs spread wide, your skirt lifted up so he can rub your clit. he forces you to watch in the mirror, your back pressed against his chest, as he pushes your panties aside and sinks two long fingers inside of you. forces you to watch, his other hand gripping your jaw to keep your head still.

"you're a whore," he murmurs in your ear, "such a filthy fucking whore. you think you can tease me and get away with it, hm?"

"n-no, i'm sorry." you whimper, his fingers curling inside your weeping entrance. you're making a mess of yourself and his hand.

"mm, i don't think you are, dear. you're so wet, i bet you've been thinking about this for a while now, right? imagining daddy's friend splitting you open, ruining your perfect cunt." you should be embarrassed that he's got you down to a science, but his words make you squeeze around his fingers. you nod, much to his satisfaction, and he chuckles quietly. it reverberates in his chest and you relish the way it feels, wondering if you'll ever get to be more than just his secret.

"you're never going to get this from anyone else, you know that, don't you? nobody else will ever make you feel the way i feel." you're dumb from just his fingers, but you can't help that they're just what you wanted. the pads of his index and middle finger brush the spongy spot on your walls, making you cry out and writhe in his arms. your thighs try to squeeze shut but he lets go of your face to force them back open.

"t-too much-"

"shut up and take it. this is what you wanted, so why the hell are you complaining you ungrateful brat?" he hisses, focusing on that spot. with the way the heel of his hand is palming your clit, his fingers buried so deep inside you, you're cumming within moments. you're loud even if you don't mean to be, especially as he continues finger-fucking you after your orgasm.

"please- no more, i-i can't-" you whine, trying your hardest to move away from him, but he's got you tight in his grasp.

"you can, and you will. you don't have a choice. you'll cum as much as i want you to." he kisses your temple, the first sign of mercy he's shown you all night, and then slips a third finger in. you're weak to him, the same way he's weak to you.

#bunnystalker ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡#bunny's fics ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚#resident evil #albert wesker #albert wesker x reader #resident evil fanfiction #writing #albert wesker i love youuuu #albert wesker smut #albert wesker fanfic #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut

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