#frustrating for her! i think it's fucking hilarious

[datura-tea]

so. sofia and shaun's story is the tragedy of a mother forced to contemplate the death of a son who she barely knows, who in her mind is still a baby, will always be a baby, even though he died an old man. father - shaun - is a son she never got to see grow up, never got to know. finding him was all she wanted to do, and when she did... she was heartbroken. he was her child. he came from her. but he's not the child he could've should've would've been, had she raised him. and before she can come to terms with all of that, he's dead, dead by illness, and dead by her - the minutemen general's - metaphorical hand. all of those months, looking for him, killing for him, and for what? there's nothing to show for. nothing to hold but the vague shape of shaun's potential.

#yeah i made myself sad #shh peri shhh #anyway. sorry #but im having sofia and shaun Thoughts tonight. they're tragic and sad and ultimately doomed by bethesda's narrative #as was nate because fallout writers can't think of a motivation other than dead spouse #but i have to say. having your child stolen and then meeting him as an old man who then dies after a few interactions is so funny #and frustrating as a player lol #i played this whole game looking for my baby and the whole time he's fucking.......80??? lmaooo #hilarious. for me. not for sofia bc for her it's agony #sofia

[judyalvqrez]

the way people are once again removing all the nuance and moral greyness and complexity out of the last of us, but especially joel miller’s character is kinda concerning lol

#i told myself i wasn't gonna get into the discourse but i was reading through some of the posts and comments in the tlou tag and... oof #like i get it i could write whole essays about my feelings on this story and its characters and the ending ect. #but a lot of people are already getting annoyingly defensive of every single one of joel’s actions #literally stripping him of all of the flaws and complexities and moral greyness that make him such a great character #why are yall turning him into a clean cut selfless hero that did everything right like that's so boring #what’s most frustrating is how people are completely ignoring ellie’s perspective in all of this #some even just pushing her entire character aside in favor of joel #only bringing her or her trauma up when they’re trying to justify something joel did #and treating her like an accessory to his character when you should be reflecting how his actions are gonna affect HER #i hate to break it to yall but if you bring this highly romanticized version of joel into the next season #yall are NOT gonna have a good time #it happened once and it will happen again and i know the inevitable backlash is gonna be twice as bad this time that’s why im concerned #anyway those are just my two cents that no one asked for if you see me posting any type of discourse again pls shoot me lol #and please don't think i'm a joel hater either those people are just as annoying they're just in the minority i think especially on tumblr #why can't we just enjoy joel for the morally grey complex and honestly fucked up and tragic man that he is #it's like joel defender this joel hater that let's just be joel enjoyers #or joel lovers that'd be me because i love him with all my heart 🥺 #especially hbo joel like his characterization was so good he just hits different and honestly i prefer him over game joel #and i do enjoy the occasional ''joel is innocent/did nothing wrong' memes/jokes i think they're hilarious and ultimately harmless #(also the joel/abby memes but that's another story sjafhksaf) #this was more about the people writing almost whole ass dissertations or actively starting arguments in their fervent need to defend joel #okay im done lol #lucy rants #i tried to keep this little rant as spoiler free as possible because there's no way in hell im tagging this asjfknsa this was more for me #if you read this whole thing through the end: hi i hope your day was good and if it wasn't i hope it's great tomorrow :)

[rosehipsister]

demolition lovers bullets->revenge->parade brainworms

absolute goddamn brainworms, they can’t leave me now “what’s this about gerard’s explanation not making sense“ i don’t care, but have you considered it suddenly made sense in my head? it’s been two years since this got stuck in my thoughts

#guy raised from the dead to get killing #girl stuck in afterlife slowly turning into a demon #revenge actually ends with both surviving and breaking up #in parade he just dies and goes through an album-long trip into hell on his own without any cheatcodes and console commands #this time devil think it's hilarious #i think the ending is... #ambiguous at best #by which i mean the afterlife is too close to his regular life to be endlessly frustrating #YEAH DISENCHANTED AND KILL ALL YOUR FRIENDS go in that part #at least these ones i'm not listing all of them #girl is fine though #she fucked off to live her life as a half-demon and no one bothered her #probably has a wife idk

[liinos]

It makes me fucking insane how grad programs are like oh did you not go immediately into a masters? Well you better have a good reason why or we might not think you deserve to get one bc you're not committed 🤭 omg you didn't cure cancer or solve world inequality before applying? Don't even look in our direction 🤮 it's so great you want to further your education it would really be a shame if we made it as hard as possible 👉👈

#you read the shit they want and its like okay guess i should kms would that be enough for you😭 #also omg i fr need the whole 3 references needed thing explained bc a lot of people do higher education later in life #for one reason or another and i KNOW professors dont remember people past like. a year so 🤨 what then #also sorry sorry but stuff like that grinds my gears bc some of us keep our heads down and mind or business #we dont network and the whole 'you should do it for your future' idea leaves such a bad taste in my mouth bc it feels exploitative #but like sorry i suffer from crippling shyness and speaking to my professors made me feel like i should have been shot 👍 #higher education is so fucked bc they make you jump through so many hoops and like. mf i am still paying you for this #do you want money or not???? like a phd program i get but you pay tuition for a masters......... #anyway. i dont think ill end up bothering bc reading requirements today made me almost cry out of frustration so👍👍👍👍 #anyone else feel like everyone else is miles ahead of them and that theyre just floundering😁 woefully underprepared and #underqualified for life and suffering the consequences of being terrified to speak to people in college 👍 #and also simultaneously numb to and unable to handle rejection 👍 #like i could find non college courses just for personal betterment but even thinking about it fills me with hashtag shame #and it doesnt help that no matter what i do if it isnt smth exactly in line with my parents thinking theyre so judgy about it 😔 #and i cant even talk to them about how i feel bc one thing about them they will make me feel sooooo much worse when🤣 #they never react the way id want or expect them to its kind of hilarious like i dont even WANT to talk to them #it would be equivalent to torture for me quite frankly 👍 idk maybe ill talk through it with my friend #shes at least sort of where im at but shes also like. Doing Shit and Has Plans so. #but i think she gets me a little bit. granted i may cry and i dont really need to do that in front of her #for many reasons 😭😭 i would fr never be able to face her again #anyway. how are your nights going

[baptismbaby]

♡ HEARTBEAT

toxic! ellie x toxic! reader (modern) warnings: degrading, breathplay, hitting, bruising, strap usage (r!receiving), player!ellie, petnames based on heartbeat by childish gambino wc: 2.9k<3

You and Ellie had the worst breakup in Jackson. You two were dating for years and were constantly arguing, taking breaks and making up again. The cycle frustrated everyone who hung around you two. You would tell your friends you were single “for real this time,” while Ellie kept her distance waiting for you to knock at her door. Usually you would but if you didn’t, Ellie would sneak into your house and you’d walk in your room to find her sitting on your bed. She’d promise she wouldn’t hurt you again, wouldn’t cheat on you again, and you’d fall into her arms with tears and forgive her. Things would be fine for a week until she’d fuck up again. 

At some point, you decided you really wanted to move on. You had gone to her place and told her to never talk to you again. She thought you were fibbing and showed up to your house while you were sleeping, waking you up to say sorry. When you threatened to shoot her in the leg if she wouldn’t leave, she stormed out and broke the picture frame you had of the two of you on the ground. You blocked her on everything and avoided the places you knew she’d go.

That was a year ago. Of course, you’d spot her somewhere but you would quickly leave to make sure she didn’t see you. What you didn’t know was that she would. She even made new social media accounts to keep up with what you posted. Four months ago, you got into a relationship with a girl named Eliana. Ellie thought it was hilarious, you dating a girl with a similar name as her. You’d post about how sweet she was and Ellie would get angry. She had half a mind to send Eliana a video of her fucking you from behind and claiming it was recent just so you’d come by, yell at her but hopefully give in to her convincing you to be with her.

Ellie would hook up with a new girl almost every night but hated it. They just weren’t you. At some point, she’d let a girl named Sofie come by whenever she wanted. She looked similar to you so it was easy for Ellie to pretend it was you. Although there were similarities, she didn’t even compare to you. She was awful. She didn’t get as wet as you would, which Ellie missed. She was also extremely vanilla. It didn’t bother Ellie that much but it bored her. She gave Sofie a key to come by whenever she wanted to get fucked but Ellie always had to reach out first. It wasn’t often but enough for Sofie to assume they were dating. Ask Ellie and she would say otherwise.

About two months in your relationship with Eliana, you had sex with her for the first time and was disappointed. She wasn’t good at it. You were trying to be patient with her, telling her how to touch you and how to use  a strap but she just wasn’t catching on. She started to get more pissy with you and grew distant. You couldn’t stop thinking about Ellie. You missed her terribly. You’d take the arguments with Ellie over Eliana anyday, at least it would end in hot, angry, makeup sex. You refused to let Eliana touch you. She was getting annoying, always bitching in your ear about shit so miniscule that you couldn’t help but to laugh at her every time she tried to belittle you. You wanted to reach out to Ellie but didn’t know how. You unblocked her on everything instead and hoped you’d receive a text from her.

A month later, you were no longer posting about Eliana and Ellie had taken back the key from Sofie. Ellie noticed your lack of posts. Eliana would post stupid heartbreak poems and dumb shit like “if she wanted to, she would.” Ellie decided to try texting you. It was stupid, she believed you definitely still had her blocked. She sent you a simple “hey,” expecting it to go green. It was blue and said delivered which made Ellie immediately chuck her phone away from her. You responded a couple minutes later, “I was waiting for you to message me.”

You started texting Ellie behind Eliana’s back, talking about how Eliana was tedious and mean. Ellie would sympathize with you, telling you all the right things that made your love for her grow. A couple weeks ago, you got into a fight with Eliana. She brought up a touchy subject with you, something you felt comfortable enough to share that only Ellie knew besides her. You made her leave and called Ellie, crying. She came over to comfort you until it led into a makeout session, then she fucked you for hours. She wanted to overstimulate you to make up for lost time, she wanted to break you, she wanted to make sure you’d come crawling back to her. She would also get real gentle and sweet with you, to remind you how much she loved you without having to say it. But something about you feeling unsure about leaving Eliana for her woke something up in her. The idea of coming around when Eliana wasn’t there to get a taste of you boosted her ego. It was sneaky and gave the both of you an adrenaline rush, the idea of being caught turned the both of you on. 

So you two kept seeing each other. When Eliana would leave, you’d call Ellie and ask her to come over. Or you would leave Eliana’s place and go straight to Ellie’s. Tonight was another night of arguing between you and Eliana. You couldn’t wait for her to leave so you could call Ellie and complain about everything she said. You knew Ellie would come over in a heartbeat.

“You’re so fucking full of yourself,” you spat out. Eliana groaned and reached down to grab her bag. “Yeah, that’s right. Run away from me. That's all you know. Run from all your problems and refuse to take responsibility!”

“Fuck you!” she screamed. “How about you go crawl back to that stupid bitch Ellie. I can’t put up with this bullshit anymore. She can deal with you now.”

“You know what? I just might. At least she knows how to fuck me and make me cum!” you hollered.

Eliana left, slamming the door hard. You scoffed and headed into your room, grabbing your phone off the dresser. You dialed Ellie’s number and held it up to your ear. After a ring and a half, she answered.

“Need me to come over?” she asked. You could hear the smile in her voice.

“I’m so fucking done!” you griped. “I’m over it, Ellie! Over it!”

“Wait, with me?”

“No, with Eliana. She just left,” you said. 

“I’m coming,” Ellie hung up before you could respond.

Ellie shoved her phone in her pocket and looked over at Sofie, who stared down at her twiddling thumbs. “I gotta go, my friend needs me. You should probably go so I can get ready.”

Sofie looked up at her with watering eyes. 

“Sorry, she comes first. She’s been through a lot and-”

“It’s her, isn’t it?” Sofie interrupted. 

Ellie stayed silent, scratching her head and scrunching her nose.

Sofie got up from the couch and turned towards Ellie, placing her hands on her hips. “I should’ve known. You’ll never be over her.”

“Okay, Sofie. I don’t see why you’re bothered about it.”

“Cause we’re dating?”

Ellie chuckled which made Sofie angry. “We are not dating. I fucked you a couple times and that’s it.”

“But you gave me a key to your place?”

“Yeah, to come by whenever you wanted to fuck. I took it back because I don’t want to fuck you anymore. You never used it, anyway,” said Ellie. She was getting frustrated. She wanted to get ready and get to you as soon as possible. “I only let you come by because you said you wanted to talk.”

“Yeah, about us!” Sofie snapped.

“There is no us. There never was. I was clear from the beginning that this was short-term. You were someone to have fun with for a bit. It was alright but it’s done.”

Sofie stormed out, yelling something about how Ellie was a horrible person who used her. Ellie shrugged it off and sent you a quick text. “Getting dressed. I’ll be there soon, sweetheart.”

-

Ellie arrived at your place fifteen minutes later. Instead of knocking, she walked through the door and right into your room. You were already half naked in your bed, wearing a see through tank top and a thong. Ellie smirked, kicking her shoes off and removing her jeans and hoodie. Ellie already had her strap on over her boxers. Your cunt ached, desperate for Ellie’s touch.

“Needy little girl,” she teased, crawling over your trembling body. “I haven’t laid a hand on you yet and you’re already shaking.”

“You don’t know how badly I need this, Ellie.”

“What, your little bitch can’t fuck you good?” she asked in a condescending tone.

“No, Ellie. No one can,” you breathed.

Ellie brushed her fingers down your body, eliciting a moan from your lips. “My little angel, I love that you miss me when I’m gone.”

Her hands reached your panties. You thought she was gonna push them aside but instead she gripped them and tore it off, throwing the ripped fabric off to the side. You groaned, feeling your pussy throb even more. You loved when Ellie was like this. You’ve had to throw away so many panties and tights because of her. You didn’t mind though, she always got you more.

Ellie pressed the tip to your entrance. “Beg for it,” she demanded.

“Please put it in, Ellie!”

“More.”

“I want you inside me! Please,” you whined, bucking your hips forward to try to sink yourself onto her strap. She shoved your waist down and slapped you across the face, watching in awe as you yelped and held your cheek to dull the pain. 

“Don’t fucking pull that again, little whore. I decide if you deserve my cock or not. Are you too stupid to get that? Huh?”

“Y-Yes, Ellie. I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”

“Good girl. C’mon, keep begging me to fuck you,” she growled.

“I need your cock inside me, please! I want you to fucking ruin me.”

“Yeah, you wanna be my braindead little slut don’t you?” she taunted. “You don’t wanna think about anything but my cock stretching your tight cunt.”

You sighed, struggling to keep still as her hands went all over you. She shoved your shirt above your tits and grabbed them. 

“Fuck me Ellie, please! I can’t take it, I need to feel you. Please,” you cried.

Ellie smirked and put her cock back to your hole, slamming it inside of you. You screamed out, gripping the sheets underneath you. Ellie wrapped her hand around your throat and squeezed tightly as she thrusted into you hard and fast. It was hard to keep your eyes open to watch Ellie. All you could manage to do was squeal in pleasure. You started to get dizzy from the lack of oxygen in your brain. Ellie noticed and took her hand away, caressing your cheek then slapping it.

“You like that, huh? Yeah?”

You couldn’t speak, unable to focus on anything besides the feeling of Ellie’s cock fucking you deeper. 

“Aww, poor pup can’t talk,” she mocked.

She placed her thumb in your mouth and you opened it to suck it. Ellie moaned as you gently bit her. She pulled away and leaned towards you, her breath fanning over your face as she felt herself getting closer from the friction. “You’re mine, all mine,” she whispered. “You belong to me. You’re my pet, my fucktoy to play with. No one fucks you as good as me. Say it!”

“I’m yours,” you whimpered. You could feel your pussy tighten around Ellie’s strap. “I-I belong to you. I’m your… I’m your pet, your f-fucktoy to play with. You can u-use me anytime, anyw-where you want. Oh, fuck, I’m about to cum. P-Please can I cum, Ellie?”

Ellie nodded, giving you the permission to let your orgasm take over you. As your body shook, you absentmindedly cried out that you loved her. Ellie felt a warmth go over her entire body in adoration. 

“That’s it, baby,” she cooed, fucking you through your orgasm. She was close too, all it took was you calling out her name once again and she finished. Ellie collapsed next to you, the both of you breathing heavily and giggling.

“God, I love fucking you,” spoke Ellie.

“I love when you fuck me.”

Ellie glanced over at you, admiring your glazed eyes and red puffy lips. She noticed your cheek was starting to form a bruise. “Shit, I didn’t mean to hit so hard.”

“It’s okay,” you replied. “I don’t mind.”

“It’s gonna be a nasty bruise.”

“It’s from you. It’s okay.”

Ellie relaxed at your assurance and let out a sigh. “Seriously, I wanna know what you ever saw in Eliana. She sounds like such a bitch. I mean, bringing up… y’know? I’d never do that to you. I know I’m not the best but I couldn’t say that to you. I think I’d die if I did that.”

“I saw nothing in her,” you said honestly. “I mean, she was cool at first, I guess. She really was kind. Boring but that’s just because we had nothing in common. I wanted to move on from you. She was a rebound, that’s it.”

“Then why deal with her when you could’ve been with me this entire time?” asked Ellie.

You grinned. “It’s fun, isn’t it? Sneaking around, texting each other behind her back. I hate cheaters but… really, she deserved it. She is not a good person.”

Ellie’s heart stung at the mention of cheaters, suddenly remembering the drunken nights when she’d make out with a random girl at a party or let one grind on her thigh while dancing to make you jealous. She reached over and grabbed your hand, intertwining her fingers with yours.

“I know I always apologize then do the same shit over again. But I swear to you, baby, I’ll never do it again. None of it. Without you, my life was a living hell. I would hook up with different girls but it meant nothing to me. They weren’t you. I only want to be with you. When I lost you… I knew I had really fucked up. I feel like I’ve been given a second chance. Or, well, you’ve given me lots of those but a real one.”

Something told you that Ellie was being genuine. Before, you knew she was lying just to get you to stay but didn’t mind it. You couldn’t live without her. You tried and you were an empty shell. You shouldn’t have gotten into another relationship. You should’ve gone back to Ellie months ago. 

“I believe you, Ellie,” you finally vocalized. “I need you, really.”

A comfortable silence fell over the two of you as Ellie played with your fingers. “You know what’s funny?” you said.

“What?”

“Before I called you, Eliana told me she didn’t want to deal with me anymore and to crawl back to you.”

Ellie opened her mouth to say something but your phone rang. You picked it up to see Eliana’s name across the screen. You groaned, flipping it over to show Ellie. She laughed and grabbed it. “Let me answer!”

“No!” you tried to snatch it away but Ellie held it above you.

“Come on, it’ll be funny,” Ellie begged. “I’ll put it on speaker so you can hear.”

Before you could decline, Ellie answered. You tried to slap her arm but she grabbed your wrist and gave you a look before smiling. “What do you want?” she questioned. 

“Wait, who is this?” Eliana asked.

“It’s me, Ellie.”

“What?”

“Eliana, listen: she took your advice and came ‘crawling’ back to me. You don’t gotta worry about her anymore. She’s in good hands.”

“What the fuck?”

Ellie muted the phone so the two of you could cackle. Whatever Eliana said, neither of you could hear it. Ellie shushed you and unmuted it. “You fucking bitch!” Eliana screamed before Ellie could talk.

“What the fuck did you just call me?”

“Can’t believe you fucking cheated on me with Ellie,” she continued, rambling to herself at this point. 

“She was mine first. She always belonged to me. If you know what’s best for you, you won’t be trying to reach her again. You don’t even wanna know what I’ll do to you if you try it,” Ellie threatened. “I suggest you lose her number. Don’t get stupid and try coming over here.”

Ellie hung up the phone and went to your contacts to delete and block Eliana’s number. She set it on the dresser next to her and turned back to you. “There,” she said proudly. “You don’t have to worry about her no more. You’re my girl.”

“She… definitely deserved that,” you chuckled.

“I kinda wanna fuck you again,” said Ellie, changing the subject.

You bit your lip and swung your leg over Ellie so you were straddling her. You leaned down and kissed her softly. “You know I can’t say no to that.”

#ellie williams #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x you #tlou2 #ellie williams tlou2 #ellie williams x reader #ellie x fem reader #smut #the last of us #the last of us part two

[munsster]

hii!! i'd like to request a steve harrington x fem!reader fic pls <33 reader confesses to steve, but he says he doesn't like her. then reader's all 'okay fine, i'm gonna move on' and when she actually does that, steve is 🥺 lots of angst please and some steve grovelling teehee <33

gut feeling

A/N: okay yes 😏 i screwed this up the littlest bit, but i hope it still tickles ur fancy. also i’ve seen this done for king!steve and i wanted to write it for s4 steven

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Summary: You have big feelings for Steve, he’s just not sure he feels the same way. 3.6k words.

Warnings: angst, but it resolves into fluff, unrequited love trope, lots of feelings, friends to lovers?, CURSING!, italics, established friendship, feat. Keith 😑

"You think it would be gross if we kissed?"

Steve thinks you might actually sound hurt, but he also thinks the face he's making is hilarious beyond belief: kind of contorted and screwed inward, nose scrunched and trying really hard to batten down a grin. You glare at him from the passenger's seat, arms crossed tight over your green Family Video vest.

You think he's wonderful despite his naiveté. If only he knew how handsome you thought he was, all caramel locks and big brown eyes and the kind of smile that reaches his eyes before he's even thought of it. No wonder he has an ego up to the moon. No wonder he still manages to weasel his way into the creases and crevices of any living creature's heart. Even yours. Hell, especially yours.

"Yeah, duh!"—and he's so sure of it, you could cry—"You're like the little sister I never had!"

You chuckle but you look like you're about to hurl yourself out of the car or get yourself arrested for manslaughter. Thank God he's only a block away from your house, or he'd never see the light of day again. Does he really think of you like that? The soft laughter peters out into a grating silence that burns right down your throat and feels like hard metal settling in your lungs.

He doesn't dare glance over at you. He only bites down hard around nothing and grimaces, eyes set hard on the lines dashing beneath the grill of his car. Jesus Christ, he does not think of you like that. And he begs whatever stupid pride is keeping him steady in this nonexistent pissing contest to leave it be, but its jaw is set in the tender meat of the game.

"Don't have to be so jovial about it," you grumble.

"What?"

"Mine's on the left," you grumble, nodding out the window. Oh, he's definitely in trouble. You only ignore him like this when he's done something boyish to a fault.

"I know. I drive you home every—hey!"

"Bye," you coo, booking it up the steps to your door, refusing to turn over your shoulder for fear that you'll burst into tears upon seeing him smile or frown or crack the slightest look of confusion.

He watches you slam the door and rolls the passenger window up with a frustrated sigh. Where the Hell did that come from and why. All while you're sitting against the foot of your bed, chattering into the phone at Robin, still wearing your uniform and tugging at strands of your hair as expletives weave themselves between every three words.

"Oh my Fucking God, I'm so fucking embarrassed right now, Robs—Does he—? Does he think I'm some sort of fuckin' baby? I just don't—"

"He's just being Steve, okay? He probably didn't mean it—"

"The way he looked at me, Robin, I felt like a fucking imbecile. Of all the dickheads in the world I could fall for, my heart chose Harrington? Maybe I'm the idiot." You sigh and kick your feet out, the frustration winding up new nerves and letting them go like tight springs to fling out over your body.

She sighs and it rattles through the grainy speaker. "You're not an idiot; he has his moments. Don't beat yourself up, you know how he gets. He's probably not thinking straight, just... tell him? The worst he can say is—"

"That I'm like a sister to him? Oh, how delightful. That's even worse than just flat out admitting I'm unattractive."

"You're not unattractive, don't do that."

"I am to him," you groan.

"Hey," she hums after a beat of crackling silence. You close your eyes and grip the sickly yellow receiver a little tighter.

"I really like him."

"I know."

"And it sucks."

"I know." The other end rustles and you let out a curt sigh just as you move to stand. "I love you, and I'm here for you. Especially when dumb boys make you feel like shit. You'll always be the most amazing and most beautiful girl in my life, don't forget that."

"Thank you. I'll see you, Robs."

"Take it easy."

—

Steve wakes up to an ache in his neck and a soreness in his knuckles. You didn't call him last night. And he's assuming you didn't call him before school this morning because his alarm clock flashes eleven, first period starts at eight-thirty, and the tone his ancient landline emits is shrill enough to deafen a man. Let alone wake him up in a cold sweat. He concocts a sick feeling in his stomach of burnt orange shame and maroon guilt because he has to wait until closing shift tonight to explain himself to you.

But by then, he's feeling spiteful. You weren't home when he went to pick you up and he waited ten minutes and knocked on the door in bulk. Until someone who was not you answered and told him that you'd gotten a ride with some jerk from the Hawkins High football team. That's not how it was originally said, but that's how he heard it. So you're avoiding him? It makes him spit up a little in his mouth, and he's going about twenty over the speed limit the entire way to make it on time.

By the time he can fling open the glass door and hear the sound of the tiny bell, he spots you in the back corner with a stack of tapes under your arm. Listening to music. To drown him out. And it makes him frown. Six hours. That's how long he'd have to endure this, then he could go home and not call you and not be able to sleep.

The casette in your Walkman can only run for so long, right? But he watches you rewind it after an hour and a half and slumps against the front desk when you grab a new stack of tapes from behind him. He simmers down after the first half of the shift, and of course, the fact that you won't talk to him rubs him the wrong way, but what's even worse is that now you're bumming rides off of losers on the worst football team in all of Indiana.

He gets worked up thinking about that guy's motivation and how many times he probably tried to make a pass at you. Steve would never do that to you. Even if he wanted to, he's a gentleman at heart. He could beat that jerk to a pulp just imagining him giving you the look. God forbid that sucker puts his hands on you. Steve would get charged with battery before ever letting that happen.

It's not like he can say anything to you about it either. He's pissed, and he knows himself. He'd get all angry and confrontational, and you deserve better than that. It's his fault you got there first, and it's his fault you got to stocking, and it's his fault you're tuning him out. But he didn't think what he said last night would be worth all that trouble.

"If you keep up the optic blast, I'm gonna buy you a ruby-quartz visored monocle." And that droning voice could only belong to one overbearing manager.

"What do you need, Keith?" Steve grumbles, and out of the corner of his eye, he catches you looking to the front of the store to watch the encounter with a smirk.

"Duty calls, Harrington. Corporate sent us more shelf space. Need someone to unload it into the office," Keith murmurs, shooting a glance your way, "And, uh... it's kind of unwieldy, so get the kid to help you out."

It makes Steve's eye twitch because you're not some kid. And if you heard Keith refer to you as such, you'd unleash a fleet of curses on him. Only Steve is allowed to call you that. Because it's funny, duh. You're a year younger than him, obviously he's going to use that to his comedic advantage. Oh.

He lets out a sigh—"alright"—and leaves Keith to man the front while he skirts to the back of the store and leads you by the hand through the office.

"'The Hell, Harrington?" you hiss, but you keep your fingers locked between Steve's, abandoning the rest of the tapes on Keith's desk and jogging to catch up with his stride. As forward and demanding as his grip may be, you have to admit, the warmth of his palm is comforting and it makes your heart race because you've never held hands with Steve before. And in any other circumstance, you might've been able to enjoy it a little more.

"Keith told me to tell you that you have to help me bring a shelf in from the truck."

"Oh, I have to?" you bark, now pulling your hand away and putting your headphones around your neck once you exit through the back door with him. "And you didn't think to give me a warning before yanking on my arm?"

"Yes, you have to, and maybe if you weren't listening to that shit so loud, you would've been in the loop." It comes out far more harsh than he intended, and that was exactly what he was afraid of happening in a confrontation with you. His brow softens, and the tension in his upper back and jaw dissipates into his own self-pity party. "And I didn't yank on your arm. Or at least I didn't mean to, so I'm sorry for that much."

Steve hops up into the truck and offers you a hand you don't take as much as you both wish you would have. Because he looks like a kicked puppy, and you have to stop yourself from cheering yourself on. Maybe this will be your first literal step towards getting over him. Once and for all.

After about fifteen minutes of heaving and ho-ing, the two of you manage to haul the shelf into the office as per Keith's request. He was right: it was unwieldy. The awkward grip spots caused a lot of overlap, and you both flinched away from the physical contact in a matter of milliseconds. But Steve couldn't deny he felt bad, and you couldn't deny that you definitely still had feelings for him.

You grab your previously abandoned stack of tapes to scurry out of the office, but Steve stops you by the elbow. And you glare back at him.

"Sorry. The... yanking, I know"—he shoves his hands in his pockets and looks down—"Look, I'm not entirely sure what happened last night in the car, but it clearly made you uncomfortable, and I'd like to apologize."

He can see the neurons firing when he looks you in the eye, but he can also see that his apology wasn't effective in the slightest. Because you're still anger-ridden and fuming at him. You put your headphones on and go back to restocking shelves.

He checks the digital clock above the door. Two hours till eleven. Great.

And they creep by like refrigerated molasses. Second by second. Every time he glances at the clock, only a minute has passed. Eventually, though, he starts cleaning up for closing: vacuuming, cleaning the windows, fixing the display. And he finds himself getting a little more efficient at checking tapes back in and rewinding them only so you'll cruise by the front—scowling at him, but nonetheless at him—to grab a new stack and shelf it.

Five minutes to closing and a sleek, blue sedan pulls into the parking lot, and you practically beam at it, grinning and skipping to the front. You grab your bag from under the counter next to Steve's hip and shove your Walkman into it.

"You know, my car works perfectly fine," he grumbles, "don't have to replace me with some football jerk." He knows that struck a nerve because your smile immediately flickers away into a squint.

"That football jerk is bilingual, a painter, and lets me listen to the music I like in his car."

"But that's not the rules," he whines, desperately defending himself against some sports guy who's probably taking advantage of you.

"Well, I like him and he's nice to me." You sling your bag over your shoulder triumphantly, marching towards the door.

Steve is aghast at the implication. He thought you liked listening to the radio. Plus he took Spanish and art for the required two years, it's not that great of an achievement.

Still, he sputters out, "Yeah, well—"

You wave over your shoulder. "Later, Steve."

Since when did he become such a loser.

He watches jerk-face open the car door for you then glance over to wave at him with a perfect smile and perfect hair and perfect manners. What an asshole. Steve does not wave back.

—

"That's the kinda guy she likes?" he fusses into the phone, palming his face while Robin chuckles on the other line. This whole time he thought for sure you liked the self-assured, cocky, college-age boy type. And now you're dating a high schooler. Come on, jerk-face is not even that good looking.

"First of all, they're not dating. Second of all, don't lie to make yourself feel better; even I can admit he's basically a Greek god," Robin says, shoving a handful of popcorn into her mouth. "Third... why do you care? You’re acting like it’s your job to protect her, but it’s not. She’s an adult now, you know, she can take her of herself.”

He lets out a puff of air through his nose, blinking hard and leaning into the pale yellow receiver. Then mumbling: "She told you."

And she replies, cheerily: "Yup."

"Well—! I just... don't want to see her get hurt. I know that type of guy. I used to be that type of guy. He's bad news, I can tell."

"Right,” Robin scoffs, “It's definitely not because you love her.”

"I don't love her. She's just a baby, and we don't even like the same things. It would never work out between us, there's no connection." They both know it’s a lame excuse, but it’s worked up until this moment. It’s worked since the day you met. You’re too young, the end. Sure, you can be cute sometimes, but you’re also a pain in the ass and you two could never get along long enough to stitch together a real relationship.

But Robin sees through all of that shit. And she’s over it.

“Okay, maybe, but she listens when you talk about cars, and you buy the albums she likes even when she only mentions them once. Plus, you both love Dustin like he's an extra limb”—she’s right, you love that kid to death and Lord knows Steve looks after him like a son—“I think as much as you wretch and complain over her being too young and the connection not 'being there', it seems like you try an awful lot to get her to like you."

He immediately rejects the idea with a scoff.

"Of course I’d want a cool person to like me, old fuckin’ habits die hard. But that's all. She's cool and has a good sense of style and tells the best jokes and makes me feel smart and listens to me, and right now I'm feeling pretty crazy because maybe I do love her and I blew it because... because? Because I don’t know why—but she's probably sitting in some jerk's car listening to her favorite songs and watching him paint the sunset while speaking Spanish or whatever."

Robin closes her eyes, and Steve’s annoyed by the fact that he can hear her smirking. "Jesus Christ, I need to start charging you idiots for my time"—and she sighs—"Just... tell her all that cheese. And maybe throw in an apology or two. I don't know, do what you usually do when you pick up girls.”

He’s frustrated. And annoyed. But he throws a thanks at her anyway and stomps down the stairs and to his beamer. It’s not until he’s shrouded in the piercing light of the convenience store that he realizes three things: he’s still in his work uniform, it’s midnight, and he’s pretty sure he does love you. He grabs a bouquet, not even realizing it’s a bouquet of amaryllis and baby’s breath—he’d prefer roses, but ‘tis not the season, as the cashier told him.

Minutes later, he’s muttering under his breath like he’s mad, waiting for someone to answer your door. And thank God you do.

“Steve—?”

“Oh, shit, did I—were you—?”

“Oh, no, I was just…”—thinking about him—“nothin’. What’re you doing here?”

He pushes a furious hand through his hair, then tucks a chunk behind his ear, worrying at his bottom lip. More nervous than he’s been in his whole life. Then he flashes those soft brown eyes at you, and you’re toast. You step onto your doormat and shut the door behind you because he starts into his sentence like a blazing fire:

"I feel so stupid, and I’m sorry for saying you're like a little sister to me; I don’t believe that, and it couldn’t be further from the truth. You're not like a sister to me, you're like the only thing that matters and I feel like I wanna learn another language for you and take a cooking class for you and listen to your music with you. I just, I mean I’m trying to say you make me want to be a better person, and I feel like I’m already a better person whenever I’m around you. I... what I’m saying—and I promise I’m getting to it—is that I’m sorry for being so stupid and not seeing it before, but I think you're beautiful and I'd be honored if you'd forgive me and maybe consider letting me take you out sometime. Like on a date."

He’s breathing heavily, looking and feeling manic, and your eyes are wide as you slowly process his confession. It goes down like sweet wine, floral down your throat and settling in your tummy like candy. But still: what the fuck? Is he insane? Are you insane?

His hair is flopped to one side, and his work vest is snug around his shoulders. You step forward slowly, and the creases in his forehead seem to go smooth. And you point to the bouquet.

“For me?”

Steve glances down. "Oh, yeah, got em for you. Sorry they're not roses, it's not—"

"I love them, thank you."

He nods. And you smile. And despite how beautiful the soft pink and white flowers are, you’re not particularly focused on their safety when you hook your arms beneath his and rope him into a hug. It’s clearly just what he needed when he goes pliant and heavy against your chest, smiling into your neck as his hands wrap over your shoulders.

"I think we might both be stupid,” you whisper.

He chuckles. "Yup. Just a couple of stupids. Geez, what kinda pair are we?" You both pull away. Only to look at each other squarely. To see a smile creep and creep across the other’s face. And he cocks a brow and says, "By the way, worst twenty-four hours of my life—"

And that’s saying something after the last three years.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Steve, I was just so—"

"I know."

"So confused and disappointed, it was—"

"Torture, yeah, don't even think about doing that ever again,” he teases, pinching your side and scrunching his nose when you pinch him back.

"Yeah. Well, never tell me I’m like a little sister to you ever again.”

Gross.

"I don't plan on it"

With the slow bat of your lashes, and the tender curve of your lips, he can’t not think about kissing you. Not in this light. Not under the meddling moon, and not holding your waist like cupping pools of honey.

Then you look away. For all the shit you talk, he manages to make you far more shy than he ever anticipates. And it gives him butterflies to see you duck away.

"You know, I think you're pretty beautiful yourself, Harrington.”

Oh, he’s blushing now. The blood gushes hot to his face, he could sweat buckets right here and now. You can probably hear his heartbeat. Jesus Christ, what’ve you done to him? You can tell he’s nervous when he chuckles softly. "Does this mean I can start giving you rides again?"

You pretend to weigh your options. As if there would ever be a better alternative. "Only if you let me play my music sometimes.”

"Absolutely. I never liked the radio much anyway."

You let go of him only to cradle your bouquet in both hands, admiring the petals while Steve puts his hands back in his pockets.

"Then I'll see you later," he says. Grinning ear to ear, mind you.

"Yeah,” you coo, “I’ll see you."

With one hand on his shoulder, you plant a kiss on his willing cheek and let him go. But before he can make it to his car you holler, “Wait!” and he jogs back over to you.

"Did I forget somethin’?"

“Yeah,” you poke, "you forgot about our date."

He tilts his head a little, brows furrowed. "Our... our date? What do you mean our… Ohhhh”—he nods in understanding, suddenly hit with a wave of excitement and embarrassment—"Does tomorrow work? We could grab lunch or dinner or something and maybe stop by the arcade or—oh, the fair's in town, that could be kinda fun, unless you don't want to, I mean—"

"Steve?" you hum.

“Mhm?”

"I'd love to."

And suddenly his ego is miles through the roof; he's nodding and grinning and it’s like he can’t wait to wake up tomorrow just to see you again.

"Me too. Okay. Yeah! I'll see you then."

"Bye, Stevie.” You give him a small wave, and the shroud of plastic around the bouquet crinkles like the corners of his eyes at the idea of tomorrow.

masterlist

#steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #unrequited crush #stranger things #x reader #stranger things x y/n #stranger things x reader #fluff #steve harrington #st4 #stranger things 4 #x fem!reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x reader #angst #best friends to lovers #friends to lovers

[fyodor-s-rat]

BSD - you telling them "i hate you" as a joke

ft.: Dazai, Chuuya, Akutagawa, Ranpo, Kunikida, Fyodor, Yosano, Edgar

tw: slight nsfw

"I hate you."

Dazai

"Sure you do."

he smirks and kisses your cheek

this man doesn't believe you for a split second

is secretly planning a revenge

he'll make sure you will regret your choices tonight

"If you hate me that much, why should I let you cum, my belladona?"

Chuuya

"Come again?"

boy is actually taken aback

he comes closer to you and grabs your chin

"I dare you to say that again."

his deep voice makes you weak in knees

"Say that again and you won't be able to walk tomorrow."

Akutagawa

he's insecure enough, he takes it too seriously

he's very confused and frustrated

starts thinking about what he did wrong

"If you hate me that much, why don't you just get the fuck out of here?"

you have to tell him that you didn't mean it

forgives you but will think about it probably for the next few months :/

Ranpo

"Nice joke. Try harder next time."

doesn't even look up

he knows you don't mean it

finds it quite hilarious tho

"Interesting, that you didn't hate me last night, sweetheart."

Kunikida

"Oh? Have I done something wrong?"

is genuinely confused

tries to find out the reason you said this

goes through all the things he said to you for the past few hours

"I apologize if I made you frustrated somehow. However, I would appreciate if you told me what I did, so I can learn from my mistakes-"

he stopped because you started laughing

"We'll see who will be the one laughing this night." (imagine his angry face)

Fyodor

"Leave then."

this man doesn't give a fuck

because he can see through your lies

he then turns his back to you

but, of course, he knows that you won't leave him

he's not dumb and he knows you too well

"Just remember, no one would be able to satisfy you in the same way I would."

Yosano

"Oh?"

she's confused for a while before a smirk appears on her face

"My, my. Looks like we'll have to fix this."

*grabs her chainsaw*

Edgar

he's very hurt by your words

he has always admired you and now you say this?

starts immediately overthinking

comes up with an apology poem even though he has no idea for what he should be sorry about

when you tell him it was a "joke", he's still quite uncertain

"Oh. Is that so?"

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd scenarios #bsd fyodor #bsd kunikida #bsd ranpo #bsd x reader #bsd chuuya #bsd dazai #bsd smut #bsd edgar allan poe #bsd yosano #bsd akutagawa #bsd x y/n #bsd headcanons #dazai x reader #chuuya x reader #kunikida x reader #akutagawa x reader

[die-pink-maus]

Some MORE Canon/Not So Canon König 💋Headcanons💋

(NSFW Included • MDNI)

AN: AGAIN, these are just my thoughts and opinions of what I imagine König would be like IRL. I have once again divided everything up into sections and there is a whole section dedicated to more NSFW headcanons, so PLEASE…MDNI this is for the grownups! There is great mention of the words “wife”, “girlfriend” and some GN terms such as “you” or “your”. I am mainly writing this from the perspective of a woman. I’ve also included an IRL photo inspo to help get those imaginative juices flowing 🤭

IRL Inspo: @Fabientietjen on Insta/Tiktok 

Likes, Reblogs, & Positive Comments Are Greatly Appreciated 🫶🏼

Enjoy! 💋

🪖Personality/Physical Appearance🪖

♡ TATTED. Definitely covered in tattoos, has the “my body is a temple so why not decorate it” mindset. All of his pieces are super unique to him and his experiences. Would more than likely get tattoos of his cats and his wife or GF so they’re always with him, especially when he is deployed. 

♡ Very direct and to the point, but doesn’t necessarily always mean it in a mean or condescending way, he’s just very blunt. A lot of the time it’s more funny than anything else.

♡ Listens to Austrian and German folk music while he cooks, boisterously singing along with a gigantic goofy grin on his face, and a kitchen towel draped over his broad shoulder. It reminds him of being a child, and cooking with his mom back home.

♡ Hunter gatherer type of man. Owns a home in rural Austria where he is able to grow and harvest his own crops and hunt game. Probably owns a couple of animals on his small farm as well, but not for food, they’re like his family.

♡ Has a bit of a love hate relationship with his birthday. Doesn’t mind celebrating, as he is very grateful to be alive, but also just isn’t really one for all the attention that usually comes with birthdays. He’s more than content with staying in, ordering takeout and having some alone time with you 😜

♡ Loves dressing like he’s from the early 1900s. In his defence, it’s suits the fuck outta him, and reeeeally adds to that gentlemanly, timeless charm he has 🤭

♡ Will start pointless debates over almost ANYTHING simply because he enjoys watching people get frustrated. He thinks that shit is hilarious and will often play devils advocate just to get a rise out of someone 😂

♡ Hyperfixated on all things comics. Has been collecting comic books since he was a teen and has developed quite the collection. 

♡ Big steak and potatoes kinda guy. Loves meat in general and probably isn’t afraid of eating the more undesirable parts of the animal, such as liver and gizzards.

♡ Huge on hygiene. Considering he’s spent quite a bit of time in some not so clean situations while being out in the fields on missions, being clean is something he’s become quite obsessed with now that he’s retired. More than likely because he doesn’t want to be reminded of his time in the military.

💗As a Boyfriend/Husband & Dad💗

♡ Adores taking you shopping, especially for lingerie. Will sometimes even request a private shopping session at your favourite boutique lingerie store so he can have you model a few pieces for him without interruption 😜

♡ Death stares at ANY MAN who even dares to look your way. He knows he has a bombshell on his arm, and there are many men who would kill to be in his position, but you’re his. He makes sure everyone is well aware of that.

♡ More than likely the type to opt for a small intimate proposal as opposed to something public and flashy. Would probably whisk his fiancé to be away to a beautiful tropical island, and propose to her during a lovely private dinner on the beach.

♡ Loves planning romantic vacations and getaways chalk full of excursions and activities he knows you’ll love.

♡ “I saw this at the mall on the way home and it made me think of you” type of man. He remembers practically everything about you.

♡ Teaches you how to shoot and takes you to the gun range at least once a month so you know how to protect yourself in case he ever needs to be away.

♡ Trains you in hand to hand combat, which involves a lot of roughhousing that usually leads to well…you know 🤭

♡ Tells you how beautiful you are and how lucky he is to have a woman like you on a daily basis.

♡ Was the most attentive husband on earth when you got pregnant. Ensured you had everything you needed at all times, would constantly massage your feet, and came to every doctors appointment you had.

♡ Absolutely obsessed with your pregnant belly. Hushed words of adoration in German as he kisses your cheek and rubs your belly. 

♡ Would often speak to the baby while she was still in your tummy. “Hallo Baby Mädchen, es ist deine Vater König…I can’t wait to meet you meine Prinzessin” 🥹

♡ Has always wanted a daughter, and when you two finally have one, that little girl became the centre of his entire universe. Names her after his mother, her grandmother.

♡ Is the best Girl Dad™️ on the planet. From playing dress up and letting her practice her makeup skills on him, to tea parties that involve him wearing a princess tiara, there’s practically nothing he wouldn’t do for her.

♡ Your little girl loves to cook with her father. He will hold her in his arms on his hip as he cooks, allowing her to sample everything in the process. 

♡ Loves taking family photos with his beautiful girls and your pets! His office at the base was full of framed photos of all of you, and he always caries a photo of you and your daughter with him at all times.

😈Behind Closed Doors…😈

♡ Last time we talked about how he fucks you, but what about how he makes love to you? Both are equally as intense to be honest 🤭

♡ When König makes love to you, it’s almost as if the whole world stands still, and you and him are the only people on earth…bodies moving in perfect rhythm and harmony with one another 🥲

♡ He takes his time with you, long intimate full body massages with sensual aromatic oils, feeds you chocolate covered strawberries from his lips, drizzles honey all over your body and practically licks you from head to toe, nipping and sucking at those delicious sweet spots of yours.

♡ The foreplay is excruciatingly euphoric. Soft, slow, gentle kisses along your neck and over your chest. Licking and pinching your nipples as you moan beneath him, the bulge beneath his sweat pants purposefully teasing your sopping cunt through your panties as he grinds against it before pulling them off. His tongue gently lapping at your folds and your clit from behind as he gently squeezes your ass cheeks.

♡ No part of you is off limits for him. His tongue darts into your tight hole as his thumb draws mind numbingly pleasurable circles over your swollen clit. Two fingers from his other hand slipping into your puckered hole. 

♡ Loves watching your gorgeous full lips wrap themselves around the thick tip of his cock, his large fingers gently running through your hair as whimpers, moans and sweet praises escape him. “You’re so good for me.” “Mein Gott you look incredible sucking my cock.”

♡ He loves when you’re on top, practically mesmerized at the sight of your curvaceous naked body hovering above him, large perky tits bouncing up and down as you slowly ride his huge cock 🤤

♡ His large hands guiding your hips as he looks up at you, arousal dripping from his icy blue gaze mirroring the arousal in yours. 

♡ He does, however, tend to get a lil too excited. You drive him absolutely crazy. Eventually he flips you over, throwing both your legs over his shoulders as he rests on his knees and begins slamming into you, repeatedly grazing your cervix with the tip of his cock as you practically scream his name. “Cum for me, Schatz, I want you to cum all over this cock.”

♡ As usual he always makes sure you cum first, but he can’t help but cum inside you. Your insatiably tight, wet walls clenching around his girth, milking every drop of cum from his aching balls 😩

#cod modern warfare #cod x reader #konig call of duty #konig cod #konig mw2 #konig smut #konig x reader #könig #könig call of duty #könig cod #könig x reader #konig x you #könig fanfiction #konig #könig headcanons #konig headcanons #headcanon #konig x y/n #konig modern warfare #könig x y/n #könig x you #könig mw2 #könig smut #könig modern warfare #cod mwii #cod #18+ content #18+ mdni #18+ post #mdni

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

Take Care of You [9]

Sugar Daddy!Joel Miller x Female!Reader

Overall Warnings: slow burn, angst/comfort, power imbalance, age gap, possessive tendencies, eventual smut, #daddyissues, independent reader learns to let go and relax, emotionally constipated Joel Miller learns to be vulnerable; (more specific warnings to be added to individual chapters if necessary)

Chapter Word Count: 9,950

Mood board and borders by @saradika

Summary: You spent your entire adult life supporting yourself and barely getting by. It’s why a life of ease offered to you by a mysterious stranger sounded so foreign and unbelievable. Joel Miller, dressed in flannels that had seen better days, didn’t look like the kind who could promise you the world on a plate, but he seemed desperate to help out. All he asks is that you let him take care of you. That wouldn’t be so hard. Would it?

[a/n: we back, baby. and we also barely edited so if you catch a typo don't hate me. also this was supposed to end in a different spot but then i got carried away in the middle so i had to split it 🥴]

Chapter Specific Warnings: angst, heartbreak, binge drinking to ease emotional turmoil, mild violence, mentions of blood and injury

09: LET ME TAKE CARE OF YOU

"i still haven't figured out how to sit across from you, and not be madly in love with everything you do." ⏤ william c. hannon

Three years ago, Nima tried to convince you to go skydiving with her. She begged and she pleaded, but you told her ‘no’ on account of thinking she was a crazy person for wanting to jump out of a perfectly good plane. Which was hilarious now considering you were sitting beside Joel wanting to pull open the door and dive out. The irony was not lost on you.

The only reason you hadn’t gone scrambling for the door was because Joel was forced to take a work call a few minutes into the flight. He hadn’t moved away. Joel stayed right next to you with his arm behind you as he spoke, and every few moments he’d glance at you with a silent apology and shake his head. You’d reply with a tight lipped smile and go back to mindlessly scrolling through instagram. 

Unfortunately the mindlessly scrolling was not so mindless. Since leaving Vegas, you had a high pitch ringing in the back of your mind like an endless, echoing siren. Married. A married man. Joel was⏤ Your teeth were clenched together so hard you wondered if Joel could hear them grinding against one another. Yesterday had been filled with so much anxiety, and you had managed to work through it by the end of the night. Mostly. But this was worse. This was so much worse. 

Married?

Your throat suddenly felt tight, eyes stinging with unshed tears, and you hastily undid your seatbelt and stood. Joel glanced your way and you pointed to the back of the plane and mouthed the word ‘bathroom’ to him. He nodded with a soft smile, and you spun on your heel and practically sprinted to the tiny plane bathroom. You struggled to get the folding door shut and the stewardess who sat not far away stared at you in confusion. You gave her an awkward wave and finally got it latched. 

“Fuck.” You shoved your face in your hands, leaning against the wall, and held back your tears. You were confused and frustrated, and you couldn’t even find relief in a good cry because Joel would spot it in a heartbeat no matter how much you tried to put yourself back together. The thought of confronting him about this right now was your worst nightmare. You hadn’t had the time to process any of the wild thoughts pinging around your head yet.

Your mind was at war with itself. On one hand, maybe you were being stupid and naive. For the last month and a half you’ve spent nearly every day with Joel and on the days you weren’t actively seeing him the two of you would talk either over a call or through text. You knew Yo-yo for 24 hours. Sure, she seemed nice and sincere, but what if Rosalind sent her to screw with you? For all you knew, Yo-yo had cruel intentions and was trying to drive a wedge between you and Joel. By taking her word you’d be playing right into that trap. What she said about the other sugar baby and about Joel being married? Maybe it was all fake and you’ve been stressing for no reason.

On the other hand, Joel didn’t kiss you. He didn’t kiss you because he wanted to ‘do right by you’. Joel asked for time. Was it because he needed to get a divorce? Worse. Was he married with absolutely no plans to get divorced and just buying time for something else? 

God, if you kept up this line of thought you were gonna vomit. Quickly, you turned to the sink to splash a little cold water on your face in hopes it would help you get your shit together for the next thirty minutes. Half an hour and you’d be on the ground. But then what? It would be a miracle if you kept it together for thirty minutes let alone any longer. 

You took in a long, slow breath and tried to clear your mind. When you felt steady enough, you stepped out of the bathroom. As tempting as it was to hide in there for the rest of the flight, it would probably be a red flag for Joel that something was wrong. You wandered back over to Joel and at your approach, and at the sight of you, he covered the bottom of his phone and whispered, “You alright?”

“Mhmm.” You nodded quickly and sat back down.

“I’m sorry. Jus’ another minute.” 

You waved your hands at him as nonchalantly as you could and he went back to his call. You leaned back in the seat, phone in hand, and Joel readjusted his arm on the back of the seat so he could settle his hand on your shoulder. As he always did, his thumb was tracing circles on your shoulder. An action you always loved, but now an intrusive thought slammed into you⏤ does he do this with his wife? The question was so startling, so sickening, that you couldn’t bite back the nausea that rolled through your body. You jumped up so fast you nearly stumbled over your feet, and you scrambled for the bathroom. 

Vaguely, you heard your name behind you, but you didn’t stop until you reached the toilet. You fell to your knees and threw up. The taste of acid in your mouth made you wince, but getting it all up did bring some relief. That relief was short lived though as you felt a large, warm hand settle on your back.

“Jesus, sugar.” He said in a soothing voice as he rubbed your back. “What’s goin’ on? Have you felt sick all mornin’?”

You spat into the toilet bowl, trying to get the taste of bile out of your mouth, before reaching out and flushing the toilet. You tried to stand, and Joel hooked his arm around you to help you up. He called out of the bathroom and a second later the stewardess brought in a cup of water and a ginger ale. Joel handed you the water and kept his hand rubbing up and down on your back.

“I’m⏤ I’m fine.” You shook your head and took a sip of water to swish and spit into the sink. “Really.”

“Obviously not.” Joel replied. “C’mon, let’s sit you down.”

“Joel…” You tried to argue, but he wasn’t hearing it. He kept an arm around you as he carefully led you back to the seat. He brought the bottle of ginger ale with you and the moment you finished the water he took the cup out of your hand to replace it with the soda. “I feel better now. It’s fine.”

“You’ve been off this mornin'. I was worried.” Joel lifted a hand to feel your forehead. It made sense that Joel picked up on your distress. He had always been so good at reading you. “You seemed fine when we first woke up. When exactly did you start feelin' sick?”

You took a sip of the ginger ale, “I…I don’t know. After breakfast maybe.” You lied. The sincerity in his eyes, the concern in his voice, it was both bringing you comfort and making you sick again all at once. You felt so stupid. Either you were freaking out over a lie a woman you barely knew told you or you were being tricked into feelings by a married man. Either way, you felt pathetic. “Your, um, your work call, Joel.”

Joel shook his head in response and didn’t even bother addressing the work call he stopped. He set a hand on the back of your neck and his thumb was lightly ghosting over your skin. You closed your eyes and took a slow breath in and out through your nose. “Tell me what I can do, sugar.”

“I⏤” You swallowed the lump in your throat. You forced your eyes open, finding Joel’s furrowed brow and worried gaze already on you, and it made you want to cry. You shook your head, “I, um, I think I just wanna lay down for a while. If that’s okay.”

“Course it’s okay.” He replied. 

The seat the two of you were sharing wasn’t long enough for you to lay down without laying your head on Joel’s lap. You planned on moving to the other couch seats to lay down, but Joel’s hand was still on the back of your neck and he lightly began to guide you down. Too tired to even try and move, you settled your head on his thigh and curled your body up onto the rest of the seat. 

In any other situation, this would be one of the most comfortable spots on Earth. Your head rested on his thick, firm thigh, and Joel’s hand traced where he could reach. Up and down your jawline and neck⏤ his thumb and forefinger would occasionally massage your earlobe. You tried to calm your racing thoughts. The truth was, you didn’t know the truth yet. It was a fact you kept repeating in your head in hopes it would numb the sharp pain of your worst fears, but those intrusive thoughts continued to pummel you.

“I’m so sorry, baby girl.” Joel murmured while his fingers dragged across your skin. “What a shitty way to end this weekend.” You hummed in agreement. This really was a shitty way to close out what started as one of the best weekends of your life.

Avoiding Joel made you realize how involved in your life he was. After landing in LA, Joel tried to drag you to a doctor and only conceded when you told him it was probably a 24 hour bug and you just wanted to sleep. He called you later that night to check in on you, and you managed to talk to him for a few minutes before lying about wanting to go to bed early. Come Monday morning, you went to work despite Joel texting you that you should stay home. Trying to focus at work was physically painful. Enough so that after the nightmare Monday had been, you left midway through the day today claiming to Henry that you didn’t feel well. It wasn’t even a full blown lie. You felt like shit.

Nima threw the folder of papers onto her desk and set her hands on her hips, “I’m gonna hit him with my car.”

“Please don’t.” You mumbled with your chin resting in your palm as you leaned on the other side of her desk. After leaving work, you came directly to Nima’s office. Going home and sitting on your couch, alone with your thoughts, would only make you ten times more miserable.

“No, actually, my car isn’t big enough. I’m gonna commandeer a bus and hit him with that.”

“I haven’t confirmed anything yet. For all I know, I’m being this pathetic over nothing.”

Nima snapped her hand up and pointed at you with a glare, “No. I will not have you shit talking yourself when the only person we should be shit talking is Joel Miller and his wife.”

You groaned and let your head fall to the desk. The words ‘Joel Miller and his wife’ made you viscerally ill. The time you spent not talking to Joel Monday night you spent stalking people on social media. You reached dead ends very quickly though since Joel didn’t have any social media whatsoever. The easiest solution was to just look Joel in the eyes and ask him for the truth, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You wanted to know the truth, but you were scared to actually seek it out. 

If you asked Joel for the truth, if you confronted him, then he’d give it to you.

What if the truth was something you didn’t want to hear?

“Alrighty, babe, real talk.” Nima said and you lifted your head, keeping your chin resting on the wood, and saw she had dropped down into her office chair. To meet your eye line, she held her chin on the desk across from you to mirror your position. “I can threaten and plot his demise all I want, but I know I’m not allowed to kill him until this is confirmed or denied.” She twisted her lips. “You deserve the truth.”

You pouted, “How am I supposed to ask him about this, Nima??”

Her eyebrows furrowed in concern, “If you did ask… How sure are you that he’d answer truthfully?”

You pushed up and leaned back in the chair. That was a good question, and with anyone else it would probably be a real concern. However, you weren’t worried about that. You truly, deep down, believed that if you confronted Joel about this he would give you the truth. 

“I really think he would.” You answered. “Is that naive of me?”

“You know him better than I do.”

This entire situation made you question that. Did you know him? You knew he grew up in Austin. He had a younger brother, Tommy, and it was just them and his mom for most of his childhood. You knew he attended one year in college when his mom passed away⏤ cancer. Joel dropped out of college to take care of his brother and picked up a job in construction. That’s where he got his start. His first boss saw he had a knack for more than just the manual labor and trusted him with more and more until Joel was running sites for the man. At 27, Joel’s girlfriend of three months got pregnant. They planned to make it work, but she left when Sarah was two weeks old. You knew he adopted Ellie three years later. That he earned his bachelor’s degree in business at home through online classes while raising two young girls and working a full time job. That he started Miller Construction shortly after earning that degree, and it blew up from there.

You knew despite being a tough guy, he didn’t like horror movies.

You knew his favorite whiskey was Lagavulin⏤ neat.

The one thing you didn’t know was if he was married or not.

“I am going to suggest something,” Nima began, “And I want you to listen before you call me crazy.” You shot her confused look and she continued on. “I have this cousin.” You groaned and Nima chastised you to listen. It seemed like she had a cousin available for every situation that arose, and half the people she called cousin weren’t even technically related to her by blood. Anytime you asked her about it all she’d say was ‘Korean moms’ love to talk’, as if that clarified anything for you. “Seriously. He’s dating a private eye. With one text, we can get some answers.”

You shook your head, “Nima, that’s insane.”

“Is it?”

“Yes, hiring a private investigator is insane.” 

“Look, it’ll get us reliable answers.” Nima argued. “The truth.”

You rolled the idea around in your head. It was literally the epitome of paranoid absurdity, but you were wondering if that’s the point you were at. Would it be better to find out this way? That way when you finally did confront Joel you wouldn’t be blind sided by the answer. Hell, if the answer turned out to be ‘no, he isn’t married’ then you can chalk up the last few days as time wasted and move on with your life. That being said, it did seem like an invasion of Joel’s privacy. 

“That feels…” You paused, “Illegal?”

“It’s not illegal to hire a PI.” Nima countered then tilted her head. “I think. I’m not a lawyer, but people do it on TV all the time, right?”

“Well, that logic is foolproof.” 

“I’m not gonna do it if you tell me you don’t want to do it.” Nima said firmly. She crossed her arms and gave a small little shrug. “But you have to do something. Either this or just call him right now and tell him the two of you need to talk.” There was a protective sincerity in her eyes that felt like a security blanket being settled on your shoulders. “I don’t want to see you get more attached to this guy just to be hurt. I don’t want him to lie to you.”

You knew Nima only had your best interests in mind. Technically, Joel had given you no reason not to trust him. Half the time you thought on this topic you convinced yourself you were overreacting and being a pathetic, paranoid mess. Yo-yo, as nice and fun as she had been, was a virtual stranger to you. Her word shouldn’t trump Joel’s. You knew all of that, and you wanted to trust him. However, it felt like some broken part of you was looking for something to be wrong. Joel Miller was too good to be true. Why would someone like him be interested in someone like you? There had to be something else going on. According to your ex, you hadn’t even been worthy of him and Joel Miller was ten times the man he was. 

“Okay, do it.” You blurted and hated yourself for doing so.

Nima held your gaze for a second, but you pushed to stand and crossed her office to her private bathroom. You took one of the paper towels, dampening it, and set it on the back of your neck in a poor attempt to ground yourself. For a while longer, you just stood there in front of the sink. Not staring at yourself, but staring forward at a singular spot as your thoughts raced. You needed a positive thought. Just one would do, and you were prepared to drag it out of your thick skull kicking and screaming if necessary. 

“Everything is going to be okay.” You mumbled to yourself softly. 

The whispered words did nothing for your anxiety. However, the memory of him did. You found comfort looking back at the soft moments spent with Joel and let yourself fall down that rabbit hole. The temporary peace was nice, but it didn't last. Finding strength you didn’t know you had today, you splashed your face one more time and then left the bathroom.

Your eyes immediately landed on Nima who stared back with wide eyes. Nima spoke first, “What?”

“What?” You repeated. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Oh, I thought you said something.” Nima flipped her phone over and settled her hand on top of it. You glanced from her face to her phone and back again. A look of misery flickered across her features. You tilted your head in question. “Are you hungry? I’m hungry.”

“Nima.” You crossed the room quickly. “Did they already text back??”

“No. Yes. Maybe?” Nima shook her head. “Not exactly.”

“Nima.”

She twisted her lips and drummed her nails against the plastic case of her phone. You shot her another look and she blew out a sigh. “He sent me a response, but it’s like half an answer. Half a report. We should wait until he can⏤”

“What did he say?”

“Apparently, he’s working on a case for someone else right now and had a database right in front of him so all he had to do was type in⏤”

“Nima, please.” You blurted. It felt like your heart was caught in your throat. You couldn’t breathe and you didn't feel coherent enough to string together a thought. Her hesitance was an answer in and of itself. You rubbed your throat, your other arm wrapping around your torso in a poor attempt to hold yourself together, and gasped. “Just say it.”

“He’s married, babe.” Nima mumbled. You knew the words had been coming, but they still overwhelmed you. The air left your lungs as if someone had gut punched you and you fell back into the seat in front of her desk. “He said he’d send me the certificate when he could, but he has to finish this job first. I’m so sorry. I am so, so sorry. I⏤”

Nima stopped herself from speaking as she came around her desk and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. You sat in her embrace for as long as your shattering mind could endure and then shook your head, “I need a drink. Drinks. Plural.”

“It’s three in the afternoon, babe.” Nima mumbled in concern. You shot her a dry look and she offered you a tight lipped smile. “Drinks it is! Let’s go. We can go back to my place and⏤”

“No.” You pushed to stand. “I wanna go out.”

“Oh… kay. Where?”

“Anywhere.” You turned and began to leave.

Nima was scrambling to gather her belongings into her strawberry shaped purse before rushing out after you. “Just one drink though. I hate being the voice of reason, but we should limit ourselves to one drink.”

One drink turned into two which turned into three which turned into twelve.

By 6 PM, you were borderline wasted. It was by no means the best decision you’ve ever made, but you couldn’t classify it as your worst considering that, for the first time since leaving Vegas, you didn’t feel sad or defeated. No, those blue emotions had turned into a burning shade of red. You had finally found your anger and all it took was copious amounts of alcohol. 

“I mean, married?” You scoffed as you stood at the bar with Nima at your side. “That’s⏤ That’s illegal.” Nima nodded in agreement as she blindly tried to find the straw in her drink with her tongue. You reached out and pushed it toward her lips. “And worse than illegal! It’s fucking rude.”

“So rude.” Nima slurped at the last of her drink and all you could hear was the rattling of ice in her glass. She pulled away to slam the cup down and pointed at you⏤ her pink hair had been let down from the braid to messily rest around her shoulders. “You should get a new sugar daddy!” You stuck your tongue out in disgust and shook your head. “No! This is such a good idea.” Nima began to look around the bar. “Let’s find you a super hot, super not married sugar daddy.”

“I don’t want a new sugar daddy. I want another drink.” You leaned on the bar and waited for the bartender to look your way. Nima and you had bounced to a few bars. The two of you, back when you were sober, decided to start drinking in an area that had multiple bars all within walking distance. The one you were in now wasn’t familiar to you⏤ it wasn’t a place you and Nima had been to before. It was a bit too upscale for your liking. Sober you would not have been a fan. Drunk you? Loving it.

Nima was tapping on your shoulder rapidly and when you looked her way she was pointing across the bar to God knows who. “He looks like he wouldn’t marry someone without your permission.”

“That’s,” You shook your head, “not my situation.”

“Isn’t it?”

“I don’t know.” You shook your head and looked back toward the bartender who was busy with a group of women further down the bar. The sound of vibrating vaguely filled the air and you leaned closer to Nima who immediately wrapped her arms around you in a hug. “You’re vibrating.”

“You’re vibrating.”

You found her purse and opened it so you could rifle through it. It dawned on you then that somewhere around bar two and drink five you had shoved your phone in her purse for safe keeping. When you finally managed to pull it out, Joel’s face was flashing on the screen and you yelped in surprise. You tossed the phone onto the bar and held your face between your hands.

“Oh, no. Oh, no, no.” You shook your head and the vibration stopped. Joel’s picture disappeared and was replaced with a notification of a missed call that joined the notification telling you that you had unread messages. Your eyes snapped to Nima who was trying to drink out of her empty cup again. “Joel.”

“Bastard man.” Nima edited.

“Dinner.” You grimaced. “At 7. I’m supposed to get dinner with Joel at 7. It’s 6:35.”

Nima shook her head and crunched the ice she had shoveled into her mouth, “Bastard man can go to dinner with his wife tonight.”

 You grimaced, “I hate all the words you just used.”

The bartender began to wander over and Nima turned to order more drinks. You picked up your phone and leaned against the bartop with your elbow. With a frown and furrowed brow, you opened your text messages. Every unread text was from Joel unsurprisingly. The first came in at 4:29 and it was a simple, ‘Hey sugar, I’m excited to see you tonight’. The next was almost exactly an hour later and it said, ‘Hope your day’s been alright. We still on for tonight?’. Finally, the most recent at 6:15, was just your name with a question mark.

You set the phone back down before the temptation to reply could overcome you. It only sat on the bartop for a second before it began to vibrate violently as another call came in. Joel’s face filled the screen and you felt a wave of sadness drag you under. The fact that you were mourning the lack of his presence to this degree was probably a sign you were doing this ‘sugar baby’ thing very wrong.

“Maybe I should answer it.” You voiced the thought aloud.

Nima caught it and gasped before slapping her hand on top of the still buzzing phone, “No, ma’am! You will not be doing that.” The bartender set two new drinks between the two of you. Nima pushed one in front of you and moved the straw to point directly at you. “Drink.”

You took a sip then spoke, “I don’t even know the whole story⏤” Nima pushed your face back to the straw so you took another long sip. “Maybe it’s a misunderstanding…” This time your lips found their way to the straw on their own accord and you took a sip that could be argued as dangerously long. “I need to talk to him. Confront him. Demand answers.”

“Yes. To all of that. Eventually.” Nima replied with a nod. She reached forward and bopped you on the nose with her finger. “But not tonight.”

“Why not?”

“Because I know one thing in life,” Nima held up the one finger she used to bop your nose, “You do not have serious conversations while drunk.”

You shook your head with a pout, “I thought you said you don’t like being the voice of reason.”

“If it means helping you, I’ll always lean toward reason, babe.” 

The two of you went back to drinking. Your vibrating phone stopped and a few seconds passed before a notification for a voicemail popped up. You turned to Nima, “Can I listen to it? That’s not talking. That’s listening.”

Nima chewed on her straw slowly before bobbing her head in an affirmative nod, “I shall allow it.”

You picked up the phone to listen to the message he left you.

‘Hey, sugar.’ Joel’s voice rumbled over the line and you felt your chest physically ache at the sound. You closed your eyes in annoyance with yourself. If you hadn’t fallen so hard, so fast for this man you wouldn’t be in this scenario to begin with. ‘Gotta say I’m a little worried. Haven’t heard from ya all day. Gimme a call when ya get this.’

You groaned and set your head down on the bar. Guilt gnawed at you. It felt childish of you to be ghosting him like this, and that wasn’t your typical go to move. You had enough respect for the people in your life to address them when needed rather than hide behind voicemail. With the guilt was a swirling vortex of anger. You were angry at Joel for not being up front with you. You were angry at Yo-Yo for being the one to plant the initial doubt that started all this. You were angry at yourself most of all. Angry that you felt guilt at all, angry that you had foolishly placed so much trust in a man you barely knew, angry that despite everything there was still a part of you that craved his presence. You missed his touch and his voice. You missed those burning brown eyes and the way his very glance could melt you into a puddle.

“You okay, babe?” Nima’s voice asked softly. You shook your head without lifting it. “I’m sorry. I can break his knee caps if you want?”

“What?” You lifted your gaze.

“What?” She replied innocently. 

The phone began to vibrate again startling you. He had just called so you didn’t expect him to call again, but then again you were supposed to be in your apartment waiting for him to pick you up for dinner. You pictured him standing at your door dressed up and holding a bouquet of flowers. Nausea rolled over you in waves, and you grabbed your mixed drink thinking it could cure your troubles.

A few minutes passed before another voicemail was left. You snatched your phone up and shoved it back into Nima’s purse so it would be out of your line of sight⏤ not even bothering to listen to the second voicemail. Tomorrow, you decided. Tomorrow you would confront Joel and have this difficult conversation. You both finished the drinks in front of you as the lively bar continued to thrive around you.

“Why is he married?” You asked suddenly. Nima must have known it wasn’t a question you expected an actual answer to as she stayed silent. You rested your face in your hands and sighed. With your eyes closed against your hands like this you began to feel dizzy. A sure sign that you should stop drinking. Nima rubbed your back soothingly and you dropped your hands to shoot her an appreciative glance. “You’re the best best friend a girl could ask for.”

“I know, babe. And you know what else I know?” Nima squished your cheeks together with a wide grin, “You deserve the universe in a gold hand basket, and any man who can’t see that or who would play games with your big, loving heart doesn’t deserve you.”

You laughed and Nima chuckled herself before letting go of your face to pick up her empty glass. Her tongue struggled to find the straw but once it did she tried to take a big gulp only to get drops and air. Nima pulled away from her straw and furrowed her brow, “Who finished my drink?”

With another laugh, you raised your hand to order two more drinks. At this point you’ve already had so much to drink, what would one more hurt? You knew the hangover tomorrow was going to be a bad one, but a part of you was looking forward to it. There would be no mourning Joel tomorrow if your head hurt too much to even think his name. 

Nima successfully managed to distract you again as she drunkenly delved into a story you weren’t quite following, but you enjoyed the way she told it. A low whistle interrupted the moment of peace the two of you had found. You glanced past Nima to see two men in business suits wandering over. Nothing about them stood out to you. One was brunet and the other blond, but they both looked like they never grew out of the frat lifestyle on a college campus.

“We saw you two pretty ladies from over there and wanted to come and offer you our company.” The blond greeted smugly.

Nima turned in her seat to face him and waved her hand at him while taking a long sip of her drink until the ice rattled in the glass. Then she pulled the straw out of her mouth to finally speak with a shake of her head, “Sorry, we don’t speak english.”

“You just said that in English.” The blond chuckled.

“Sorry, sorry.” Nima waved her hand once more. “I don’t understand your accent.”

You snickered under your breath while chewing on your straw. The brunet stepped forward to stand side by side with the other and shook his head, “No need to be a bitch. We just wanted to talk.”

“Oh, you haven’t even begun to see bitchy yet.” Nima pointed her glass in their direction⏤ a bit of ice sloshing out with the exaggerated movement. “I can show you bitchy.” She reached back to swat at your arm. “Tell them, babe.”

“She can.” You nodded in agreement.

The blond set a hand on his friend’s shoulder and tugged him back, “Let’s just go, man.”

The brunet reluctantly let himself get dragged away, but he continued to stare at you and Nima the entire time. Nima spun in her seat and scoffed, “Where was I before I was interrupted by douchebag one and douchebag two?”

“I’m not gonna lie,” You shrugged, “I have no idea.”

“I’ll pick a place then.” Nima said and jumped into the middle of her story. “So, there I was covered head to toe in honey.”

Same as before, you really couldn’t keep track of her tale but it amused you all the same. The two of you chatted for another minute or two before a new face came across the two of you again. Nima had bounced in her seat, excited, and it knocked her strawberry shaped purse to the floor. Your phone clattered out. Before you could climb off the bar stool to grab it, a man passing knelt down and scooped it up. In one tanned hand he grabbed the purse and in the other your phone. The phone’s screen lit up and you swallowed at the sight of the multiple missed messages all from the same person. 

“Oh.” The man cleared his throat and straightened his stance. He was handsome with a kind face. Dark hair, a bit on the longer side, was messily pushed back and it matched the scruff on his upper lip and chin. The man wore a pink button up shirt, all the buttons undone, over a white t-shirt. “I suppose this is yours, miss?”

You begun to reach out, “Thanks⏤”

“Hold it!” Nima pointed at the man making his dark, brown eyes widen. “State your intentions, sir!”

“To…return your purse?” He lifted up the strawberry bag.

Nima narrowed her eyes at him and snatched it away, “Likely story.”

“Thank you.” You reached out and he handed the phone over to you. A glance down revealed four missed calls, two unheard voicemails, and five texts. You winced at the sight and set your phone face down on the bar. You were surprised to see the man still standing by your stools. “You…” You narrowed your eyes at him. “You look familiar. Have we met before?”

He chuckled and shook his head, “Afraid not, ma’am.”

It was sitting on the tip of your tongue, but your foggy brain just couldn’t quite grasp it. Nima snapped her fingers and pointed at him. “I got it. He’s that guy.” You lifted an eyebrow at her words and she nodded frantically. “Yeah, he’s that actor! You play in that one show with, like, the zombies or whatever, right?”

“Not at all.” He laughed with a shake of his head. “I ain’t no actor.”

“Well then, I’m out of guesses.” Nima grumbled. She tilted her head, looking him up and down once more, “You seem nice enough. Got a pretty face. You rich? You wanna be a sugar daddy? She’s in the market.”

You rolled your eyes, “Nima.”

“You’re in the market for a sugar daddy?” The man asked in shock. You could hardly blame the man for his confusion and disbelief. This was hardly a normal bar conversation. “Really?”

“No. She’s just drunk.”

“Irrelevant.” Nima argued.

You chuckled then introduced yourself and Nima. The man paused for a beat before nodding and offering you his hand. “Nice to meet you both. My name is Tommy.” It took a second to click, but once the name finally wormed its way through your mind your eyes widened. Tommy chuckled and answered your unspoken question, “Yeah. I am.”

Nima glanced between you two with a frown, “Hold on, I’m not following. You are what? You’ll be her new sugar daddy?”

“No way in hell.” Tommy grinned. “If I even thought 'bout it, my brother’d skin me alive.”

The look on Nima’s face stayed confused until you swallowed the lump in your throat and finally spoke, “It’s… Nima, this is Joel’s brother.”

Her face remained frozen before morphing into one of shock. She gasped, almost comically, and pointed at him. “Oh, fuck.” Her eyebrows furrowed into a glare. “You son of a bitch, your brother is a son of a bitch!”

Tommy didn’t pay her outburst any mind, but his eyes darted back to you. “I asked my brother to come out drinkin' with me tonight, but he said ‘no’ cause he had a date with you.” Tommy stuck his hands into his pockets. “Funny I’m findin' you here without him.”

“That’s because your brother is too busy with his wife to be with my girl!”

Tommy’s eyebrows furrowed in surprise and he glanced back to you, “He already told you about her?”

It was quite possibly the worst string of words you could have heard all day. Only in competition with Nima’s ‘He’s married, babe’. You felt nauseous and dizzy⏤ the breath stolen from you again. Nima was arguing with Tommy, you could hear her voice, but you couldn’t concretely understand a single word that was said. When you finally managed to get a handle on reality, you looked back to see things had fallen apart and more time than you realized had passed in your mental breakdown. 

The blond and brunet from earlier, in the suits, had come back and were somehow arguing with Tommy and Nima now. You suddenly began to regret the last two drinks you had. Maybe if you had gone with a couple glasses of water instead you’d be able to puzzle out exactly what was going on right now.

“Get the hell outta here. They ain’t interested.” Tommy snapped.

“Just curious as to why we weren’t good enough for these bitches and you were.” The brunet slurred his words. Tommy stood a step in front of Nima who had slid off her bar stool to stand in front of you with her hands on her hips. “What’s so special about you, bub?”

“Ugh. How about the two of you run off to the bathroom and jack each other off, huh? Then leave us the fuck alone.” Nima sneered.

“Shut your damn mouth!” 

The blond tried to push past Tommy toward Nima, but Tommy shoved him back immediately. He grabbed the guy by the collar. “You gonna charge at a woman like that? Fuckin' coward.” Tommy’s voice came out in a gravelly growl that reminded you so much of Joel that it was staggering. “You got a problem, you take it up with me.”

The next moment happened fast. The blond tried to swing out at Tommy so Tommy blocked it with his elbow before tackling the man to the ground. The brunet grabbed Nima and wrapped his arms around her. She howled in anger and squirmed in his arms trying to find purchase to hit him. The brunet spun so his back was to you and you slid off the stool. Without pause, without thought, you picked up your empty glass and smashed it to the back of the man’s head. He released Nima, crumpling to the ground with a groan, and any shred of a fight stopped⏤as did the entire bar.

Tommy was kneeling on the ground pinning the blond while Nima stood off to the side.

“Oh my God.” Nima squealed, amused.

“Oh my God.” Tommy blurted, impressed.

“Oh my God.” You gasped, shocked at your own action.

You were panting, damn near hyperventilating, as the brunet began to rise on shaky limbs. Other patrons nearby converged on the scene to help out and before you knew it you were being ushered off to the side where a few couches and seats sat in a lounge area. 

“You’re such a badass.” Nima gushed from beside you. "How’s your hand??”

“Hurts.” You mumbled and stared down at the white cloth wrapped around your hand. Bright red was beginning to seep through. The consequences of smashing glass against the back of someone’s skull. Police had shown up and you knew Tommy was across the room talking to them. But still, your eyes stayed glued on your hand. The cuts weren’t terrible but they stung something awful.

“Babe?” You finally looked up and met Nima’s concerned eyes. She nodded, “You alright?”

You shot her a small smile, “Yeah. Are you okay? I can’t believe he grabbed you.”

“I’m fine.” Nima peeked at your hand then stood. “I’m gonna see if this bar has a real first aid kit we can use. Be right back.”

She jumped up and jogged over to the bar. You sunk in your seat with a sigh and leaned your head against the back of the couch. There had been something very sobering about smashing the glass against that guy’s head. The adrenaline and pain cleared any lingering fog from your previous drinks right out of your head. It left room for you to think about Joel. Meeting his brother certainly didn’t help. Tommy clapped one of the officer’s on the shoulder with a smile and they went separate ways. You lifted your head when you heard his footsteps draw near.

“Well, I spoke to the police.” Tommy stuck his hands into his pockets. “You’re not gonna get in trouble for the, you know, the glass. Won’t have to go downtown with ‘em.” You breathed a sigh of relief. Tommy held your gaze for a few more seconds before scrunching his nose and bobbing his head toward you. “And Joel is, uh, on his way.”

You covered your face with your good hand and groaned, “Can I please just be arrested instead?”

“Sorry, no can do.” Tommy sat down beside you. “You know, I didn’t say it earlier, but it’s nice to finally meet you. Joel never shuts up about you.”

“Please. Don’t.” You blurted. “I can’t… I can’t talk about him right now.”

Tommy nodded, “Right. I, uh, when I called him we didn’t talk much.” He laced his fingers together and rested his arms on his knees. “I mentioned you were hurt and things kind of spiraled from there. That’s probably for the best though. I don’t wanna get in between a lover’s quarrel⏤”

“I’m not his lover.” You snapped, and you hated the way your voice cracked. You shook your head, “Not if he’s married. Not…” The adrenaline was beginning to wear off and you were exhausted to your very bones. “This is so fucked up. I never should've agreed to…

Tommy didn’t immediately reply. He sighed, “I don’t know you, and I don’t got the exact details of what’s going on right now, but… I’m glad you agreed.” He turned and met your gaze with a tight smile. “Joel’s been… He’s been better. Joel was in a rut for a long time. So long that I kind of forgot he was in one. For a while, that was just Joel.” Tommy’s smile grew as he chuckled. “But ever since the two of you met, it’s like this weight has been lifted from his shoulders. We’ve all noticed it, and we’re all thankful.”

  “He’s married.” You whispered. “And he didn’t tell me.”

Tommy rubbed the back of his neck, “I know, but it’s⏤ it’s not that simple.” He nervously chewed on his lower lip. “Can you just give him a chance to explain?” You flexed your hand and sucked in a sharp breath as pain lanced up your arm. “Consider it a favor for me.”

“A favor for you?” You snorted.

“Yeah. I kept you out of prison, remember?” Tommy joked.

You cracked a smile and Tommy’s smile widened in victory. Nima skipped back over and dropped into the seat on your other side. She pulled your hand into her lap and carefully unpeeled the cloth away. As Nima rewrapped your hand while Tommy criticized her technique and the two bickered over you. You couldn’t help but flex your hand when she finished.

“Come on, pinkie.” Tommy stood. “I’ll take you home.”

“Uh, I am not leaving my girl here alone.”

“Joel will be here soon.”

“Then I’m definitely not leaving her alone!”

You reached out to squeeze her wrist and gave her a reassuring nod, “I’ll be okay. Gotta talk to him eventually, right?”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t have to be right now.” Nima argued. You pulled her into a hug to reassure her once again. Maybe this was a bad idea, but you had just smashed a glass against a guy’s head so the degree of your bad ideas couldn't possibly get worse. Nima sighed and stood up too. “Okay. You’re sure you’re fine?”

Tommy clapped his hands. “Joel’s a few minutes away. But we can stay until he gets here if you want.”

“No.” You shook your head. The thought of being alone for a minute was kind of nice. “You guys go.” Your eyes locked onto Nima. “If you’re okay with him driving you.” You glanced at Tommy. “No offense.”

He held his hands up in surrender and shrugged nonchalantly. Nima nodded, “We survived a bar brawl together. We’re bonded.” She grinned and pulled her strawberry purse around her shoulders. “Plus, worse comes to worse, I can stab him.”

“You can what now?” Tommy questioned.

“You’ve already offered me a ride. It’s too late to back out now.”

“Fine, pinkie.” Tommy waved her to follow. 

You watched them go and sunk in your seat. The sounds of the bar was decent background noise, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the noise in your head. You picked at the edges of the gauze wrapped around your hand. Your eyes felt heavy and if you weren’t careful you were going to pass out on this bar couch surrounded by strangers. It was the sound of a crash that startled you back into the moment, and when you looked up from your hand you realized the door had been thrown open hard enough to hit the wall. Joel stood in the doorway panicked and wild eyed. He wore a suit without the tie and his shirt was unbuttoned at the top.

You stayed silent, sinking further into your seat, and watched as Joel’s wide eyes scanned the room. His gaze finally landed on you, doing a double take, and when he realized where you were you saw his shoulders slump in relief. Joel jogged across the room until he was able to kneel down in front of you. Joel’s warm hands found your face, cupping it softly, as he sighed, “Sugar, what the hell is goin' on? Are you okay?” Joel’s eyes studied your face then glanced down at your hand. “Jesus, your hand. Tommy called me. Sugar, I⏤”

“I’m okay.” You whispered, throat growing tight, “I just wanna go home, Joel.”

Joel tensed and he nodded, “Yeah. Alright. Let’s get you home.”

The ride in the truck beside Joel may have been the most awkward and tense ride of your entire life. It was silent. The only sound coming from the road outside. Joel’s hands were white knuckled around the steering wheel. You assumed his tension had something to do with you ghosting him this evening. His truck pulled up outside your apartment complex and your alcohol soaked brain realized not only did you not have your keys but you also no longer had your phone. Both were sitting in Nima’s purse right now.

You opened the door fully prepared to sleep outside your apartment on the welcome mat like a lost dog, but Joel grasped you by the arm cautiously to hold you in place. “You got your key?” You twisted your lips knowing he wasn’t going to fall for a lie. “Where is your key?”

“With Nima.” You mumbled. “She has my phone too.”

Joel sighed and let go of you to instead grab the truck door and shut it. He buckled you back into the seat and began to drive once more. You wanted to ask where he was taking you, but none of the words would come out. You drowned in your indecision while picking at the bandage on your hand. Joel suddenly reached over and lightly pushed your hand away from the injury.

“Stop pickin' at it, sugar.”

“Where are we going?” You blurted.

Joel shifted in his seat, “My place.”

“I don’t wanna go to your place.” You mumbled.

“Don’t care.” Joel replied gruffly and you lifted your head to glare at his side profile. 

The tone of his voice stirred something inside you, and you felt the dormant anger start to reawaken. It had gotten buried under everything that happened, but now it was back full fledged. You sat up, “Take me back. I want to go home.”

“You don’t have your key.”

“I don’t care.” You snapped. “Take me home, Joel!”

“You’re comin' to my place where I know you can safely sleep it off, 'nd then tomorrow we’ll figure out how to get ya back into your apartment. Understood?”

You scoffed, “Don’t talk down to me. I’m not a child, Joel.”

“Oh, you’re not?” Joel scoffed. His tone was angry and frustrated. “Cause you’re sure as hell actin' like one.” He shot a glare in your direction before focusing back on the road. “Are you outta your goddamn mind?! Do you know how worried I was?” You crossed your arms and stared out the passenger window. “I don’ hear from you all day long. You disappear on me with no explanation 'nd then I get a call from my baby brother that you’ve been in a bar fight? And that you’re hurt?!” You stayed silent and Joel scoffed. “And now I get the silent treatment? Very mature.”

“You don’t want to argue with me on what’s mature, Joel.” You said, head whipping back to glare at him.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean??”

“You’re a hypocrite!”

“Excuse me?”

You scoffed, “It’s not very mature for a married man to pay a sugar baby for attention.” Joel hit the brakes and the seat belt caught you as the truck screeched to a stop. You glanced out the window to see his truck had reached a neighborhood and the streets were mostly void of other vehicles. When you turned back to Joel, you found him staring at you in a mix of shock and horror. You shook your head, “What was I, Joel? Some kind of midlife crisis?”

Pain could be seen through the horror, and he reached out to grab your wrist again. “No. No, that’s not…” Joel’s voice was hoarse and broken. He whispered your name. “Please. That’s not what this is.”

You tugged your arm away from his grip. “I don’t wanna talk about this right now, Joel. Either start driving again or I’m gonna get out.”

Joel kept his hands to himself as he slowly went back to driving. As if the awkward silence hadn’t been painful before it was downright agonizing now. You were pressing your thumb into the wounds of your palm just to try and keep from crying. Joel pulled into the driveway a few minutes later, and you couldn’t even get your brain to collect a single feature of the house in front of you. Joel jumped out of the truck and you stayed frozen. The passenger door opened but Joel didn’t move to pull you out. He held the top of the door frame and a foot rested on the running board so he could lean in just marginally.

“Sugar…”

“Don’t, Joel.” You said firmly. “Don’t.”

“Please just let me⏤”

“Are you married?”

Joel’s face crumpled in agony and he hung his head, “It’s… It’s not that simple. Just let me⏤”

“It’s a yes or no question.” You shrugged and tried to ignore the tears welling up in your eyes.

Joel looked like he was on the verge of a panic attack. His eyes were squeezed shut, but he still refused to answer. You whispered his name. Finally, he lifted his gaze back to you and opened his mouth. His jaw hung open silently for a second before he could speak. “...Yes.”

You felt the tears lingering at the waterline drip down your cheeks and hastily began to wipe them away with your hands. Joel gasped and began to reach out but when you flinched he held back. He shook his head, “You’re bleedin'.”

The bandage around your hand was soaked with blood, probably from digging your thumb into the wounds, and when you felt your cheek with your fingertips they came back tinted red. You must have smeared it across your face. 

“Sugar, let me… let me take you inside.” Joel murmured. “Please. I know you’re… upset, 'nd you have every reason to hate me right now, but… just let me get you inside.” His hand reached out for you once more, but he stopped himself. “You can leave in the mornin', but for tonight just⏤ just let me take care of you. Please.”

You gave a small nod. It felt weak of you, but you reassured yourself that you had little to no other option. Your hand hurt, your head ached, you were exhausted to your very being, and deep down you were torn between wanting to yell and scream or curl into a ball and cry. Joel took a few steps back to allow you to climb down yourself, but when you wavered his arms shot out to try and steady you. Joel herded you toward the front door without actually touching you. 

Your eyebrows furrowed when you studied his front porch. The entire front of his house didn’t look like the typical rich LA style you were accustomed to seeing. In fact, his porch and front door reminded you of a quaint farmhouse. Joel unlocked his front door and held it open for you to walk in. Right inside the house, the foyer had an open style with a set of stairs pressed against the wall just up ahead. It opened straight into a large living room that evolved into a dining room with a matching open kitchen to the side. The entire back wall by the kitchen and dining area was made of glass but the back porch lights were off so you couldn’t see the view. 

Joel tossed his keys into a bowl sitting on an accent table against the wall right by the door. You glanced over to a little bench built into the wall on the other side beneath a set of bay windows. The rest of his furniture from what you could see was modern and plain. You were drunk off alcohol and misery, but your brain was still able to take the time to note that Joel’s furniture didn’t match what you imagined him to have.

“C’mon.” Joel motioned you up the stairs. He followed after you and when you reached the top of the stairs he pointed to the left. You stepped into the master bedroom and Joel slid in past you moving straight toward the master bath. While he rooted around for something, you glanced around his room. There was a king sized bed sitting in the middle of the room covered in dark green sheets. A window sat on either side of the bed. The wall to the right was where the bathroom door and the closet door sat, but on the left was a single loveseat pushed against the wall. All the furniture was dark brown including the large dresser against the wall by the door and the smaller bedside drawers on either side of the bed under the windows. You drifted toward one of the bedside drawers where a photo was propped up. It was of Joel and two young girls. Joel had shown you enough pictures of Sarah and Ellie for you to recognize them, but in this photo all three of them were significantly younger. 

The sound of a throat clearing made you look up to see Joel standing there with a first aid kit in hand. “Sit down for me?” You sat on the side of the bed and Joel sat beside you. He opened the kit then carefully unwrapped your hand. When he saw the three lines haphazardly cut into your palm he let out a soft hiss. “You hurtin' much?”

“It stings some.” You mumbled. He hummed in response and used an alcohol swab to clean up the cuts. Joel did so with soft touches and his eyes flickered to your features every second or so to check in on your status. You locked your jaw to bite back any sounds of pain that tried to slip out. 

“They look bad, but I don’ think they’ll need stitches.” Joel thought out loud. 

“Good.” You said. Joel grabbed some fresh gauze and began to wrap it around your hand. You studied his features as he focused so intently on the task at hand. His warm gaze was burned into your skin as his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. You had the urge to trace your fingers through the scruff along his jawline. When he finished, he lifted his gaze and his eyes locked with yours. The two of you stared at one another in tense silence. Pain and longing filled his brown eyes, and you wondered if it could somehow just be a reflection of your own. It made no sense for you to both be so miserable right now. “Where is she?”

Joel tensed, “What?”

“Where is your wife?” You asked more firmly. 

“Are you sure you wanna get into this tonight?”

“I just want answers, Joel.” You sighed. “I need something. My mind has been a mess since we left Vegas.” Joel’s face crumpled as he closed his eyes with a sigh. “Yo-yo told me I wasn’t your first sugar baby and then she said you were married to your first sugar baby.” The words were falling out like pouring water now. “And then Nima has a cousin who has a cousin who has a friend or something that was able to find your marriage certificate⏤”

Joel murmured your name in reverence and opened his eyes. He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you from the start. That way there’d be no miscommunication or confusion. I meant to. But… I kept puttin' it off 'nd it got to the point where too much time had passed…” Joel hesitantly reached out for you and when you didn’t shy away he settled his hand on your arm. “I did have a sugar baby before you. It’s a… long story, but I am not married to her.” 

Your eyebrows furrowed, “You didn’t marry her?”

“No. Absolutely not. She was… Like I said, it’s a long story.” Joel squeezed your arm. “One that I promise to tell you. In the mornin', when you’re not half drunk 'nd half hungover all at once.”

“Then who the hell are you married to, Joel?”

“I… I am technically still married to Celina.” Joel finally spat the words out. You shook your head in confusion. The name was foreign to you, but Joel heaved another sigh and added, “Sarah’s mom.”

taglist (closed):

@weddingfairy @bfences @jasminedragon @biwitchy @huffle-punk @shelbyteller @anoverwhelmingdin @aheadfullofsteverogers @stagerightlauren @basicoccult @boofy1998 @farintonorth @thepascalofus @amatis-gray @casa-boiardi @northernbluess @jettia @sapphicsoie @spidey-3 @hrtsforpascal @gingersince97 @sentients17 @bigboiseason123 @lunxramour @ktheunready @heyheyheygaypay @keepingupwiththeskywalkers @adoringanakin @come-hell-or-eldren-fire @cherriebat @whitewolfstar01 @alyssa121611 @asreadbyaj @painfullyandprettypoetic @cantobightcafe @str84pedro

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✨J.M. Masterlist✨

#joel miller #sugar daddy!joel miller x reader #sugar daddy!joel miller #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #female reader #reader insert #take care of you

[lottiecrabie]

don’t fuck the line cooks. part two – matty healy

ever since that night in the walk-in, you can only think about the next time. hopefully if you push and prod him enough, you’ll get your way…

warnings: 18+, fingering, oral sex (m and f receiving), unprotected sex, masturbation, public sex, drug use, sex under the influence, degradation, choking, overstimulation, dom/sub dynamics, authority kink, problematic age gap problematic age gaping, sleazy man is even sleazier in this somehow

part two of two

18,294 words

You lick the salt off the back of your hand, shooting the cheap tequila, immediately wincing from the taste and worsening it with a bite of tart lime. You shake your head, hoping to flick acid off your tongue. 

“God,” you say for good measure. “I can’t seem to get used to this.”

Beside you, Veronica laughs, eating the lime off the rind. She gives you a green smile, features uncrinkled. She is used to this. “It’ll come with age.” 

You roll your eyes. “You’re only four years older than me.”

“Yeah, but you were severely stunted for the twenty-one first years of your life, so the difference is staggering.” 

“Ar-ar. You’re hilarious.” 

“I know.” She flicks the lime rind on the counter, a disheveled green skin rid of meat. She licks the leftover salt off her lips— with some of her bright red lipstick, too. She grabs your wrist next, shimmying her shoulders as she reels you from the bar. “C’mon. Let’s dance.” 

“My feet hurt,” you pout in mock-protest, but your limbs are loose from the booze and you’re easily whisked away to the dancefloor. 

The Darling is the nearest bar from the restaurant with the cheapest alcohol. It’s a dirty thing, drenched in obscurity and the occasional neon sign, smelling like sweat and cigarettes, and sticky to walk on. It plays the same songs over and over again— every night for the past decade, the same playlist booms from the speakers. You know the tunes by heart now, screaming the lyrics without a single title coming to mind. 

The Darling is where everyone crashes after shift drinks, itching for a bigger buzz and a dance. Your coworkers crowd the place, talking to the bartenders like old friends, familiarly finding the labyrinthine way to the toilets. (Find the bar, take a turn to your right, follow a dark corridor, beside the kitchen to the left.)

You’re sore and tired from a double, a neck vein nearly popped when a customer dared ask for—no, insist on a steak half rare-half medium on each side uncut. Dread filled you when you approached the kitchen, putting on a dazzling smile to transmit the ridiculous request. Sighs, and swears, and that shake of head that makes his curls bounce filled the room as he got to work, frustrated and pissed, but obedient still. 

Him. You spin on your feet, finding Matty still at the bar, sipping on a dark drink with George. You smile, eyes twinkling, detaching yourself from your friend as you sway towards him. You practically fall on his side— his hand catches you at your waist, near your hip, decidedly inappropriate, but instinctive. 

“Hullo,” you say in a poor imitation of their accents. George snorts. “Watcha drinking?” You ask Matty, scrunching your nose. 

He arches an eyebrow, sliding the glass towards you. “Have a taste.” You grab it without hesitating, knocking a mouthful and immediately regretting it. You cough, shaking your head. That’s straight liquor. Matty laughs, soothingly rubbing a hand on your back. “You okay?” 

“What is wrong with you?”

“Aw, princess,” he coos, taking a sip of his whiskey and not even twitching as the bitter taste washes his mouth. “You’ll like it when you’re older.” 

Again, you roll your eyes. Taking an easy dig at your age when he’s been between your thighs some nothing-days ago is hypocritical. The retort burns your tongue, but you bite it back for present company. Matty looks at you a little gleefully, like he knows, like it amuses him. 

You turn to George with a smile. “What about you? Are you drinking something sane?” 

He snorts. “Just a rum and coke, sweets. I’m afraid it’s not very special.” 

You reach for his drink anyway and he offers it gladly, metal rings around the cool glass. You tip it, smiling at the sweetness, licking it off your lips. “George, you have much better taste.” 

“Hey!”

“I know.”

“Order me a drink, will you?” You say, fluttering your eyelashes at him. As though you would even need the extra persuasion; he’s already shouting a drink at a bartender, putting it on Matty’s tab with a point of a thumb. 

Matty rolls his eyes beside you, his fingers digging into your waist in warning. Something low simmers between your legs. You smirk to yourself. You like the feel of that. 

“There you go,” George says, passing you the orange drink that’s been slapped on the counter. “A sweet drink for a sweet girl.” 

You smile gratefully at him, tasting it. It’s fruity and light; your lips stretch up. “Thanks, George.” 

“‘Course.” 

Ross crashes in your group, swinging an arm over George’s shoulder, clearly smashed. “Mate, they fixed the PacMan machine.” 

“No way. Is my score still on it?”

“DICKH3AD bright and red!” With a laugh, the two of them whisk away to the arcade game, off somewhere to the left, tucked between two tables. 

You’re alone with Matty now. A thrill resonates within you— it’s silly. It’s not like he’s gonna bend you over this bar and take you right this moment, in front of anyone. It’s not like he’s done anything of the sort since the walk-in fridge. Still, you spin to face him, arching an eyebrow, practically inviting him to. 

He sees the meaning tacked onto your eyelashes, clear as day, yet he does nothing but grin to himself, taking a sip of his awful whiskey on rocks. 

You huff, opting for another strategy. “Are you upset I asked George to order me a drink?” You try instead, hoping to prod and poke until he snaps again— finally. 

Matty smirks. “I’d have picked something lighter. Little girl like you can’t handle her liquor yet.” He pouts, “She’s just started drinking.” Your fingers grip around the glass, something hot and shameful dripping inside of you. 

“Why? Have plans for me I can’t be drunk for?” 

Matty leans back on his stool, properly looking at you. His gaze licks up your naked legs, your short skirt, your white top. Your heart beats twice as fast. Subconsciously, you straighten, needing to be taller, older, more mature. To satisfy, to excel. 

“If I said yes, would you not drink it?” His eyes flick to the orange glass between your clenched hands. It’s barely sipped, condensation running on your fingers. He meets your gaze next. There’s a game of chess, and you can’t seem to figure out what he wants. How to win. 

You want to win. You need to win. You feel it throbbing between your legs, that desperate urge. 

You drop the glass on the counter. It clinks on the wood, then settles, pretty and discarded. His turn. 

Matty smiles, satisfied. He stands from his stool, and a surge of excitement shoots up your spine. You don’t need the alcohol when you have him anyway.

Matty leans in, then pats your shoulder. “The boys are waiting for me.” He sidesteps you, then gets lost into the crowd. You watch him go, mouth parted in offense and disbelief. 

What a fucking dickhead. You make a low noise of annoyance, taking your glass and slurping half of it down in rebellion. You march to one of the empty booths, rage twisting your guts. 

You just want him to fuck you. It’s been five days. What is he waiting for? 

You slide into the sticky bench, ruminating in your anger as you chew on the plastic blue straw of your cocktail. 

“Hey,” Landon, a server, nods at you as he pulls into the opposite side of the booth. You nod back. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but I’m growing tired of The Darling’s playlist.” 

“Take two shots. It’ll be back.” 

“Sage advice.” He tips his chin towards your drink. “Are you taking revenge for turtles or has this straw personally wronged you?”

You sigh, letting go of the plastic, pushing the glass away from you. “It’s killed my family. Arson, you see? It was brutal.” 

“I would offer my condolences, but that would mean my boss is dead, and I’m not the biggest fan of his. Would a muted hooray be acceptable?” 

You huff, smirking at him. “Bold of you to tell the boss’ daughter.” 

“Well, I’m quite drunk.” 

You smile. “I’ll cheer to that.” You knock your empty glass to his beer mug. 

Landon gasps. “In the eyes,” he chastises. “Or it’s seven years of bad sex.” You laugh, opening your eyes comically wide to cheer him next. You’ve just broken the curse. You’re not about to be pulled back into mediocre hookups now. “Better,” he nods, finally taking a sip of his beer.

You haven’t talked to Landon much before, nothing other than pleasantries and the quick quips exchanged between two tables. You quickly find that he’s funny, pulling snorting laughs out of your tipsy mouth as he recounts some of his worst customer stories like grand, epic tales. He offers sips of his beer graciously, then buys you your own when the supply is diminishing. You don’t even like beer, but you accept the gift nonetheless, letting the awful taste fizz in your mouth and slacken your head. 

A hand over your mouth, you half-hide your laugh as it bursts out of you. “I can’t believe you would say that!” 

“And I got fired for it,” Landon argues, screaming a defense. 

“Well, obviously—”

“What’s the funny story?” Both of you jump in surprise at the intruder. Turning towards the voice, you find Matty sliding in the booth next to you. 

Already, he takes his place like he owns it, spreading through the leather seats. His legs part comfortably, his thigh sticks to yours, his arm hangs over the back of the booth, tickling your nape. He wraps a hand around your beer, pulling it towards him, taking a sip shamelessly. He sits like he owns you. 

You roll your eyes, taking back your mug, though you hold it between your hands and don’t drink it. Silence reigns around the table. Neither you or Landon feel particularly inclined to talk. 

“C’mon,” Matty pokes, looking back and forth between the two of you. “I want to know the funny story.” 

“It’s just about this customer at my old job who was an asshole,” Landon laughs easily to his credit. “Bet you heard a thousand like it before.” 

“Yeah,” Matty nods, “I bet I did.” There’s something dark in his eyes, in the intensity of his gaze on Landon, like there is some hidden insult he’s supposed to catch. 

Matty’s eyes fall on you next, flicking to the beer and then back to your daggering glare, cocking his head condescendingly. “I didn’t know you liked beer.” He says it like some genuine question, but you know he knows the answer. 

“It’s okay,” you say tightly. 

“Mmh, yeah,” Matty smirks. “I’m sure Landon could give you a lot of okay things.” Your smile crisps on your face. The fucking asshole. 

“Landon,” you practically shout, turning towards him in a desperate attempt to ignore Matty. “I heard you were applying for the position of lead server?” 

Matty snorts. “Did your daddy tell you that?” 

You grit your teeth, “As a matter of fact, yes.” You smile at Landon. “He wanted my opinion. I’ll tell him I think you’d be great.” 

“Thanks,” he smiles at you genuinely. “I promise I won’t call anyone a raging hormonal grade A wanker.” 

You laugh. “Oh, please do if I ever need it.” You shake your head, twisting the beer in your hands, but still avoiding the aftertaste that would linger in your mouth. “Yesterday, I had a woman who—”

Matty’s hand rests on your naked thigh, cold from the glass and a smoke outside, rough in sinfully familiar ways, spreading over your leg like this, too, he owns. You stifle a gasp. The words die in your mouth. 

“Who what?” Matty encourages you, frowning at you like he’s not perfectly aware of what he’s doing under the table. 

As though he’s trying to entirely rob the words out of your mouth, he trails his fingertips up and down your thigh, raising goosebumps on the skin. You throw him a glance with some furious demand to quit it, but there’s a deeper need for him to do just the opposite. 

You rake your throat, flipping back to Landon. “She came in already pissed and prissy, telling me she’s never gotten a good experience here. Why she bothers to come back is completely beyond me. I mean, you would think she would give up then, because—”

Matty’s hand dips to your inner thighs and your lips hang open, mind shortcircuiting. Without even thinking, you spread them for him, giving him further space. He smirks at that, at the resounding blush on your cheeks as you realize what you’ve done. 

He presses into the meat of your leg, one finger at a time, so you’re so aware of him you might get dizzy. His pinky slips under the hem of your skirt, inching close to inappropriate. 

“Um, anyway,” you laugh awkwardly, desperate to get through this story. Your face heats up, the knowledge of Matty’s teasing under the table — in front of Landon — burning at your mind. Matty chuckles beside you. You rake your throat. “I try to do my best, you know— smile so fucking wide I could rip my cheeks— but she’s just asking me stupid question after stupid question like this is an interrogatory or something.”

Your eyes flicker between Landon and Matty, moving from amused eyes to a condescending nod, urging you on as a warm hand slips further and further up your thigh. Pleasure wakes up in your belly— just a little, just the idea of what it could be. God, you need him, and the worst is that he knows, staring at you so fucking cocky and proud. 

You stutter, “And— And she speaks to me like I’m the dumb one in this interaction! I mean, she’s asking me the size of our salad leaves because if they’re too big then I’ll have to cut them and yet—”

Matty’s finger meets the apex of your thighs. You jump, hips rolling into his hand, hand flying to your mouth to cover a moan you just barely avoid letting out. You need this story over. 

Matty seems to predict your plan to wrap it up, wasting no time to linger and tease and brush, instead rubbing his fingers up and down, pressing into your soaked underwear. You clamp around his hand, biting your lip. 

“So she pulled me every which way during my whole shift and—” He finds your clit easily, pressing on it through the cloth, making lazy circles that have your legs shaking under the table nonetheless. Pleasure rushes up them, burning with memory and apprehension. 

Your voice trembles as you continue, “—and I had to scream in the fridge so I wouldn’t lunge at her from the table—” You make the mistake of looking Matty’s way and he grins at you knowingly, the crow’s feet by his eyes denting as he licks mischief off his lips. His fingers push your underwear aside. 

You grip his wrist under the table, but he gathers a pool of your arousal still, as though to point out how much this little game is actually affecting you, no matter your useless protests. Your breath hitches. He pinches your bud meanly. Your head spins and spins deliriously. 

You focus on Landon, rushing out. “And then she tipped me 2%.” You grin at him cartoonishly big and fake, practically screaming, “Your turn!” 

“I think I remember that,” Matty cuts in before Landon can say anything. He teases your entrance and a jolt of ecstasy zaps through you. He smirks, “You screaming in the walk-in.” You glare at him, remembering being so wet and tired in the fridge you thought you might liquify and melt on the floor, holding onto his back for dear life as he thrusted inside of you, over and over, finding that perfect spot that had you screaming. 

You’re red and hot and fuck it. You stand up, his hand falling out of your skirt. “Actually, I need a smoke.”

Matty stands up beside you. “I have a pack.” You’re off before Landon can add anything, lost to the swallowing crowd of drunk service workers. 

You make a beeline for the bar. Matty catches up to you easily, knocking against your side, clearly so fucking pleased with himself. If you weren’t so turned on you think you could actually catch fire, you might tell him to fuck off. 

You turn to the right into a dark corridor. “He wasn’t flirting with me,” you say through gritted teeth because you would like to at least establish that. 

Matty snorts. “Don’t be naive. He fucking wanted you.” 

“It’s not because I have a conversation with a guy that we’re automatically about to get it on.” 

He scoffs. “I know guys, and I know that guy would have gotten it on with you right there on the fucking table if you had asked.” You roll your eyes, which only seems to piss him off. “And what were you doing giggling at him?” 

“Am I not allowed to laugh?” 

“Landon isn’t that fucking funny. The guy barely has enough wit to sustain a conversation.” 

“You don’t even know him,” you protest with a disbelieved laugh. Kitchen. To the left. 

“I’ve worked with the bloke for three years. If he’s told a joke in that time, I’ve yet to be around to hear it.” 

You push the bathroom door, giving him a prissy look behind your shoulder. “Well, you’re missing out. Maybe you should talk to people other than waitresses half your age—” The bathroom door slams behind the both of you. Matty grabs both your cheeks and crashes his mouth against your lips. He shuts you up with a heated tongue and sure, callused fingers on your skin, and it works. 

You part your mouth instinctively, kissing him back with fervor and unbridled need. Adrenaline shoots up your spine, alongside childish glee, the thrilled knowledge that this is finally happening. The argument is a faraway concept you don’t care about. 

Your hands dig into his back, clutching on the flimsy material of his washed-out white shirt, wishing to rip it off of him. He groans into your mouth, tilting his head and kissing you harder. 

Matty pushes you against the door, fixing you in place with a hand on your hip and another palming roughly at your breast. You moan in his mouth, lick into his with devotion. Your fingers hide in the mess of his curls, tugging. Hoping it makes him a little crazy— the instinct to poke and prod and tug for something still boiling inside of you. 

And it works. His fingertips dig into your hip, pressing meanly into the bone, and he shivers. He kisses you with abandon, stealing each breath from your mouth until you’re drunk on the lack of oxygen and him. He tastes like whiskey and cigarettes, and you kiss and kiss and kiss until your mind swirls lazily in your skull. 

He bites your lip, tugging it and releasing it with a smirk. You whine, so fucking wet it drips down your thighs, titling your hips in hope of finding some friction. You tremble between his arms and you know, desperately, deliciously, annoyingly, that he has you right where he wants. 

“Please,” you whisper in the dark of the bathroom, already pleading your case like you know you’ll have to. Matty licks his lips, digging under the risen hem of your skirt. “Please, please, please, Matty,” you rush immediately again, rolling your hips against nothing. 

“What do you want?” 

“You.” You take his wrist, puppeteering his hand up and up until it finds the wet patch of your underwear. You bite your lip, a gasp seconds away from spilling. “Your fingers.”

“Mine, huh?” He says, and indulgently slips your underwear aside. This time, nothing stops the resulting breathy moan. “Those fingers?” He brushes up your entrance, finding your clit and rubbing gently at it. 

You roll your eyes, letting your last hand fall to his shoulder and clutching it for support. “Yes.” As though satisfied with your answer, he rewards you with speed, circling and swiping at you until your face breaks open with a silent moan. Pleasure blooms in your belly. Finally. Every aching muscle in you sings in unabashed thrill. “Fuck, Matty.” 

He dips into your neck, kissing and licking at the delicate curve, climbing up your jaw. He’s unrelenting between your thighs and you simply grip his wrist, letting yourself be washed with euphoria. Those calluses might kill you one day.

“You’re so fucking desperate for me,” he says, and though the words are harsh, the tone is reverent. He looks down at you, at your body bending and parting just for him, at your pleading stare, at your red, panting mouth. Devours the sight. “Got you so fucking ready just from touching you under the table. Did you like it, princess? Liked being bad? Liked getting fingered in front of your little buddy?” 

You nod furiously. Pleasure loosens your head enough to lose the inherent need to be a rule-abiding, prim, moral girl. Yes to taboo, yes to indency, yes to anything if it’s him. 

“Bet he’d be so upset if he saw you now. Should we go get him? Give him a show?” Faintly, you shake your head, embarrassment and ecstasy spinning your mind. You moan into his neck, desperate. Your hips grind against his hand for more. 

He presses into your clit, making your eyes roll with a gasp. “He’d love to see you like this. Fucked out when I’ve barely even touched you. Making the prettiest sounds ever. God, I could fucking hear them all day. All desperate and whiney, like you can’t get enough of me.” He rubs at you twice as fast just to hear you whimper, muffled by a bite of his shoulder. His name drowns in the fibers, shirt wet by a slack mouth. 

“I can’t,” you admit, shaking in his arms.  

“Fucked the old, dirty man at work and now you can’t fucking live without his cock, right? What would they all think if they saw you, cockdrunk and fucking begging for it?” 

“Yes! Just— Fuck, just do something, sir.” 

“So fucking wet for me,” he coos, all proud and pleased. You grin, letting go of his shoulder to press kisses up his neck. He shudders. “We should show them, right? At least let them hear it.” Two of his fingers dip to your entrance and enter, slowly, letting the pornographic, squelching sound resonate through the quiet room. “There you go.”  

You’re too blissed out to care how it sounds, too busy getting used to the delicious stretch of his digits to fully notice how each thrust makes sopping, wet noises. You shiver, gripping his shoulder, biting wherever you can get your teeth into. Matty groans in your ear and you grin, happy. 

“No one can fuck you like this,” Matty whispers, and indulgently speeds up his movement, curling into you as a reminder. 

Euphoria coils in your belly, familiarly burning and tightening the strings of your body. You shake your head. “No one,” you agree, religious. 

“No one can get you off.”

Again, you grip his shoulders, promising, “No one.” And it’s true. Even your own hand has been a poor replacement to the art he can draw on your skin, making your body sing like his favorite instrument. His thumb rolls at you in tandem, a fast, harsh tempo. “Fucking hell,” you cry and scrunch your face. 

He smirks, whispering, “No one can see you like this.”

“No one, Matty. Only you.”

Matty kisses your cheek, a serpent smile on his lips. He coos in the shell of your ear, “Then why were you flirting with him?” He doesn’t want you to mistake his sweet tone: he pulls out of you. 

Your eyes flash open, fear gripping your guts. Your cunt already misses him, throbbing around nothing. The taste of pleasure lingers on your teeth, just out of reach. 

“I wasn’t,” you try to plead, but Matty’s already stepping away from you. Your arms fall to your side. Matty nods, but it doesn’t reassure anything in you, now hyperaware of the dangerous gleam in his eyes. “I swear, Matty. I didn’t— He just made me laugh.” You shake your head, chuckling, “Who fucking cares about Landon Williams?” 

Your hand reaches out, grabbing his and drawing it back under your raised skirt. You brush it against your soaked underwear, biting your lip as it makes contact. You whisper, “He doesn’t do this to me.”

Matty is unimpressed. “Of fucking course not.” He bites, pulling away. You pout, displeased, too empty to think. He crosses his arms before you get any other ideas. “Did you finish that drink, princess?” Your cheeks heat up and you look down, caught. He snorts meanly. “Say it.” 

“Yes, but—” 

He cuts you off, furrowing his eyebrows in a comical pout, as though speaking to a little child. “Where did my good little girl go? So fucking eager to please. Brought up with manners and all, right?” 

He takes a step, tilting your chin up with a strong thumb. You part your lips, readied and offered, pleading. “You taste like beer,” he whispers, and then offers a solution: two wet fingers, just out of reach. The message clicks. You don’t hesitate.

You get on your tiptoes, sticking your neck out to catch the digits and suck them between your lips. You roll your tongue around them, moaning with a full mouth, letting the tangy taste of you linger. You release him with a pop, grinning up at him proudly.

You keep it wide open, waiting, and he smirks at you. Knowing exactly what you’re asking for, he bends and spits in your mouth. Sick pleasure fills your mind and you moan, swallowing it, barely catching your breath that he’s muttering, “You’re so fucking dirty,” and falling on your lips. 

You kiss him back eagerly, trying to keep up with his angry, furious pace. You’re wound up so tight you might burst from any touch: just a brush, just a flick, just a thrust and you’d be screaming his name, falling apart on his callused hand. 

“Matty,” you beg between two kisses. You throb around nothing. 

“Taste much better, sweetheart,” he breathes.

He presses a kiss on your lips, then pulls away from you again. You’re whining before he’s even had time to unwrap you from his arms, release your tits from his palms. You frown at him. You’ve done everything he asked. 

“Let this be a lesson, princess.”

“Are you fucking serious?” You cross your arms, fuming. He’s really gonna leave now? Matty seems a bit too happy at your reaction, watching you like his favorite entertainment. 

He smiles, stroking your hair. “How else are you supposed to learn?” He pouts. “If I can’t have my good girl, I’ll make her.” He brushes the saliva and gloss off your lower lip, then opens the bathroom door. 

It falls close with a slam. You stare at the graffitied, dirty mirror and think you might murder someone.

—

Matty is sizzling some meat, twisting salt and pepper above it. The kitchen staff runs around him— they’re late, falling behind because of a missing aioli sauce. 

You wait for your plate and dagger him with a glare. You’re still sticky and unsatisfied from yesterday; you spent until the early hours of the day rubbing between your thighs, desperately trying to satisfy some itch. 

Matty’s eyes rise up as though feeling the handmark of your stare on him. They lock with yours, take in your displeased, furious look, and he smirks. Winks at you. You grab the hot plate sliding across from you with a huff. 

Walking away with a balancing tray, you secretly wish for him to tug you into the nearest bathroom until the whole restaurant knows his name. He doesn’t, of course, and you find your hungry guests with the fakest, biggest smile of all. 

—

The restaurant is eerily calm before the dinner rush, a few seated tables scattered across sections: rushed parents and elderly folks slurping soup. You have just enough of a break to chug the bottle of water you keep at the host stand, pestering Adam as you finally have a minute to quench your thirst. 

Veronica finds you at the stand, leaning both elbows on the wood as she smiles sickly sweet at you. Your eyes narrow in apprehension. “I just got asked something interesting.” You arch an eyebrow. “Landon wants to know if you and Matty are a thing. Said Matty practically pissed all over you two days ago.” 

Your lips don’t even twitch. “Okay.” 

Veronica gives you an expectant look. “Well?” 

Beside you, Adam turns to his computer and decidedly chooses to ignore this. “I am not part of this conversation,” he declares. 

You roll your eyes. “We’re not a thing.”

Veronica laughs. “Oh, come on. No one here is blind. You guys eyefuck so much sometimes we feel like we’re intruding just by picking up a plate.” Admittedly, your cheeks heat up slightly at that. You didn’t think you were that obvious.

She sighs, giving you a serious look. “Just be careful. I don’t think you know what you’re getting yourself into. He’s not like the little goody-goody boyfriends you’ve had. He’ll eat you alive.”

You flutter your eyelashes, faux doe-eyed. “Promise?”

“Reservations, tables, tables. Mmh, chairs.”

You give her a look, entirely ignoring Adam’s interjection. “I’m young, Vee, but I’m not stupid. I’m telling you there’s nothing going on. We’re just having sex.” You click your tongue. “And even then, we’ve only done it, like, once. Once and a half at most.” 

“And a half?” Adam pipes up, then seems to remember who you’re talking about. He raises one hand, shaking his head, defeated. “I don’t even want to know.” He practically bends over the stand to see the computer, as though if he just got close enough to the screen, he could be sucked into its world. 

“I’m leaving for college in less than two months,” you continue. “I’m not trying to date him, or whatever other tragic ways you think he’s gonna break my heart.” You smirk, shrugging, “I just find the gray hair hot.” Veronica snorts at that. 

Still, there’s something relieved in her eyes. Maybe even proud. She smiles at you, then turns to Adam. “And what does Matty have to say about it?”

“No comments.” 

She gasps, facing you with an excited grin. “That means he’s talked about you!” You bite your lip. Could he have? What did he say? 

Veronica is already on it. She pokes Adam’s arm, forcing him to look up at her. “What has he said? C’mon.” She gives him a solemn look, holding her heart. “This is a safe space.”

“That it’s none of my business,” Adam deadpans. “And neither is it yours, brat.”

Before Veronica can add anything, a family of four enter the door, wiping off their sweaty, red foreheads. They laugh as they approach the stand, mentioning the weather. Adam practically jumps to greet them, begging them to follow him. 

“I’m sitting them in your section. That’ll give you something useful to do,” Adam hisses at Veronica, and she pokes her tongue out at him. 

She waits until he’s just out of earshot to trail, “Now that he’s gone…” She faces you with a smirk, rounding the stand and joining you. She gives you a teasing look, biting back a grin. “How was the sex?” You can’t stop the smile shining on your face. It breaks your cheeks. She gasps. “Oh, I knew it. Julia said he was the best sex of her life, too.” 

“She didn’t lie,” you admit, flushed. You cock your head. “You haven’t slept with him?” You’re almost surprised. For all her don’t fuck the line cooks warnings, you had assumed she must have been burned before. 

“Nah,” she shakes her head. She trails, teasing, “I was too busy with Ross.” 

“Hypocrite!”

“I never said anything about bartenders!” But before you can tease her more, Adam calls her name and Veronica’s off with a spin and four menus, blowing you a kiss.

—

It’s dark outside. The street lamps slope over cars, bathing the street in semi-obscurity. You cross your arms, some pretend at a shield. The crew has long left for The Darling while you finished up your closing duties. You wiped your forehead and found yourself too tired to handle another boozy, dancy night, to wake up the next day still a little drunk and off-kilter for a grueling Saturday shift. 

Something catches the corner of your eye. Your head turns, squinting to be sure you’re not mistaken. No, it really is Matty’s car parked in the alleyway. You’d recognize the dirty, beat-up thing anywhere for all the rides it has given you—not in the sense you would like. At least you can ask for one now, avoid the stressful walk home, clenched and quick, holding keys between your fingers. 

You dip into the dark alleyway, walking the cigarette butts-lined path. The car is smoky, a gray curtain to the outside world. You frown, knocking on the window of his backseat. Matty opens the door, bloodshot eyes staring at you, eyebrow arching. He holds a joint in one hand and the door’s handle in the other. The earthy smell attacks your nostrils; you scrunch your nose. 

“Don’t let the smoke out,” Matty chastises, sliding away to leave a spot beside him. 

Your brain throbs in your head. Flashes of grand preachy speeches given to friends as they passed bongs at parties come back to you. Embarrassingly, you flush and step into the car, closing the door behind you. 

Matty grins at you, pleased, taking a hit of his joint and blowing the smoke into the car. The air is heavy and thick, pressing against your skin. This is such a bad idea. 

“What are you still doing here?” You ask. He pointedly looks at the joint as though obvious. You roll your eyes. “You could do that at home.”

He shrugs, “Didn’t want to.”

“Are you gonna drive?” 

“Was planning to, yeah.” Your lips part for a scathing, moralizing reply, but he cuts you off, repeating in that same tone of yours, “Are you gonna give me a sermon?” 

You scowl. “Was planning to, yeah.” Matty chuckles. He knows you far too well already. 

“I’d leave if I were you, princess. This car’s becoming a hotbox.” 

You should, of course. Weed has carcinogens, and causes lung damages, and slows development, and wrecks the body’s natural nutrient reserve, and all the other priggish arguments you’ve known and repeated by heart. 

But Matty has a loose grin you find a little adorable. Gray-streaked hair flops as he leans his head on the backseat, lips drooping with the weight of the joint. The shape of them is addictive, a perfect O as he blows smoke out, just like he would on the inside of your thighs to get you to jump and squirm for him. 

Your breath is heavy. You feel stuck to the leather seats, skin gluing you in place to watch and rewatch the show he gives you. 

And, really, you’re a little curious about what weed is. Your friends have all indulged at some time or the other; your dormmate used to crack a window, light a candle, and infest the room with the earthy smell as if it would cover any of it up; even your mom would laugh and wave smoke away when you caught her off the clock with her coworkers back in LA. 

Matty laughs, languid and slack and, fuck, it’s such a pretty sound. “You don’t want to, do you?” He teases. Your cheeks heat up. “It’s okay, princess. Don’t even need to smoke it. Just breathe the air and save your pretty pink lungs. You can even do your little speech to me if it’ll make you feel better.” 

“Don’t condescend me,” you say, as though there’s not something sick in you that enjoys when he does it. Matty raises two arms in a show of innocence, cheeky as they fall down. He knows you like it, too. 

“My apologies, darling.” In complete contradiction, he spreads his knees and looks down at his lap, telling you, “Come sit on my knee.” And in complete contradiction to your warning, you do just what he asks. 

You don’t even think about it; you’re scooping yourself up and dropping on his knee, biting your lip as you settle over his tough jeans. His hand loosely holds your hip, looking at you pleased. 

Now that you’re on his lap, close enough to count his eyelashes, to lick the smoke off his lips, you feel yourself growing needy. The memory of a stolen orgasm in a dark bathroom comes back to you in hot flashes. You have to think about stilling your hips to stop you from grinding on his knee. 

“Are you serious about this?” He asks, arching an eyebrow. You’re not sure what he’s referring to, but the answer’s the same anyway;

“Yes.” 

He taps your hip. “Open your mouth, princess.” You’re flushing as you do so, imagining him spitting in it, slipping two fingers and making you slobber your sermon around them. Instead, he takes a hit of his joint and blows it into your mouth. You inhale as he’s taught you. “Good,” he grins. “You remember how.” 

“It’s not rocket science,” you bite, deadpan. 

“You’re right. Smart girl like you. This is nothing at all.” It hits true, strumming the right chords inside of you. You shift on his knee, holding back the shameful groan that threatens to spill out at the friction. It’s really not fair that he makes you sit here, close enough to kiss and rub and grind until you’re dripping on his lap, and not do it. 

Maybe you’re starting to feel something. Your body is light and slack, a pleasant buzz resonating through you. You feel relaxed, more than you have in years, always strung high, clenched and straight-backed. A giggle threatens out of you. 

Maybe it’s why you say, “I think you should fuck me.” Though, really, it’s all just an excuse for the fact that it’s all you’ve thought about for the past week, ever since that night in the walk-in fridge. You should do it again. Right now. Please. Over and over, like the beating drums of an earworm song. 

Matty smiles, indulgent. “Is that so?” You nod frantically. His fingers dig into your hip. He takes another hit, ever casual. “D’you think you deserve to?” 

“Yes.” 

“How so?”

“I—” You huff. Well, yes, maybe you haven’t really been anything but a brat recently, wearing low-cut tops and winking at other line cooks in hopes of riling him up. But it’s really his fault for getting you so fucking ready you’re begging for him, then walking off. You pout at him. “Please.”

“Ah-ah,” he says, tugging on your lip with his thumb, smearing your lipgloss. “None of that.” Being cute won’t seem to work this time. 

“I’ll earn it,” you say desperately. 

“How?”

Your mind scrambles. An idea sparks in your mind. You rise from his knee, then you get on yours in the cramped spot of the backseat. 

You look up at him, blinking innocently, hand traveling up his thigh. Matty takes the joint to his lips, but you can see from the way his chest rises and falls in quick succession that he’s worked up. Good. You fucking have him. 

You might be inexperienced, an unknower of pleasure, but if there’s one thing you can do, it’s a fucking blowjob. 

“Go on, then,” Matty says, choked. “Earn it.”

“Yes, sir.”

Your greedy hands finally find his waistband. You undo the button, fingers frantic as they work his jeans down enough to reveal his half-hard cock. You lick your lips, staring up at him while you wrap around his length. 

He hisses, bucking into your fist. His dark eyes are locked in yours, barely willing to move away from your face to take a good look at the little show your hand is giving him. It’s like he wants to see you, pupils wide and lips swollen, so fucking turned on and ready just to suck his cock. 

You slide up, swiping your hand up to his tip, collecting the precum and spreading it down. It’s a slow pace, meant to tease, to beguile him. Get him so ready for you he’s begging for once. 

You repeat the motion over and over, never in any kind of repeated rhythm for him to really get used to anything. His cock hardens in your hand until it’s standing proud and ready. Matty breathes heavily, letting a low sound out every time you brush his tip. You smirk every time, teasing your nails on his sensitive skin. 

“Stop teasing,” Matty warns. His hips fuck into your fist every time you slide down, silently begging for more. 

You cock your head, blinking up at him innocently. “Where are your manners?” 

“Careful,” he says with a dangerous tone. His eyes gleam. “You don’t want me to teach you another lesson.” 

You giggle. You dip your head down, kissing his tip. A moan spills out of him and you flash your teeth at him. You lower a little, pressing another kiss, then again, and again, until his whole cock is covered in tacky lipgloss. 

Your tongue sticks out to lick a stripe up his length, rounding his tip. Just when he’s ready to feel your warm mouth embrace him, you give him another sweet kiss. He curses under his breath. “You think you’re funny.” 

You lick mischief off your lips, staring up at him with a cheeky grin. “Say please.” 

His hand free of the joint rakes through your hair, grabbing a handful of it and tugging until you look up at him. Pleasure sparks from your head to your toes, reveling in the sensation. He sees right through you. 

He lets go of your hair, soothing the sting as he travels down your temple, your cheek, your chin, pushing a thumb between your lips and parting them. Thrill gathers in your belly. Your mouth hangs wide open, breathing harshly. “Do it or I will.” 

It’s his turn to be cocky, spotting how you shift on your knees at the graphic images he puts in your head. His hands in your hair, sure and strong as he fucks up into your— No. You want to show him what you can do, prove you’re not just some lost little girl. 

You laugh, sucking around his thumb then releasing it. Saliva coats it, and it dries on your cheek as he caresses it. “You’re no fun,” you tease, pouting. 

“Shouldn’t fuck a crass man if you wanted pleases and thank yous,” he retorts. “But then, you wouldn’t enjoy it, would you? Need to be railed dirty to get off, right?” 

Instead of answering— too proud to give him the yes he’s right to expect, you suck his tip into your mouth. He makes a low whine, patting your hair, swearing under his breath as you roll your tongue around him. “That’s a good girl,” he coos. “Take me in now.” 

There’s the instinct in you to do just the opposite, the born and bred need to be difficult, but you give in anyway, a bigger want to be extra good for him. You push him past your lips, lowering until he hits your throat. “Fuck,” he chokes. You smile around him, then bob your head. 

You set a steady pace, stroking what you can’t fit with your fist. The car fills with wet, gagging noise and those puffy breaths he takes. Your tongue sticks out, licking his length as it passes him, making him shiver under you. 

“Give me your hand,” he demands. You offer it without thinking, reaching up towards him palm-out. 

He takes your wrist and spits on your hand. Saliva drips on your palm as he lowers it back to his cock. He wraps your fingers around him, pumping himself once, then twice, then releasing you. You keep going to the same pace he set, cursing around his length, somehow more turned on now. 

Your hand works in tandem with your mouth. You leave his cock just long enough to spit on it yourself, spreading the saliva until he’s wet and messy, then bringing him back between your swollen lips. Precum and drool sticks to your chin, but you bob with a mission, uncaring of the sopping sounds that come out of your mouth. 

“Ah,” he groans. His head falls back on the seat, spreading his thighs as if to give you more space. You quicken your moves in response, trying to coax more pretty sounds of him. “Shit. Fucking hell,” he laughs. 

His eyes roll back, and he takes a hit of his dwindling joint. You stare at his lips as he does so, still as sickly fascinated by him smoking as you’ve always been. The car drenches in smoke, an added mix to the condensation dripping on the windows. 

Matty’s face pulls down to look at you, right as you swallow him up with an especially deep trust. He makes a whine, caresses your hair. Sees the way your eyes are dark and aroused for him, obsessed. “D’you want another hit?” He asks, cheeky. 

You release his cock, out of breath. “Yes.” Your hand continues to jerk him as you smile at him. 

“Magic word?”

You scoff. “Coming from you?” 

He laughs. “C’mon. How many tutors taught you all those good girl manners? Can’t destroy all that hard work. I don’t want to corrupt you too much.” Your eyes narrow at him. Your thumb swipes on his tip, stroking him quickly. He jumps at that, moaning. Matty shakes his head, hair flopping with it. “Minx.”

“Please,” you say, because you know it’s a lost battle to do anything but. You brush his tip on your lips, kitten-licking him, like some added argument. He smiles proudly. 

“Of course, princess.” The joint comes to you, end faced towards you, just enough out of reach that you have to kneel up to wrap your lips around it. You take a drag, tipping your head back as you blow it out. 

Your body feels hazy, tingling pleasantly throughout. There’s a loose smile on your lips as you bend down to swallow him back in your mouth. Euphoria twists in your mind, pulling at the strings of you, and you double in efforts eagerly, happily. 

You bob quicker, deeper, moaning around his length. You breathe through your nose, trying not to gag every time he hits the back of your throat. It’s all worth it for the swears he mutters under his breath, low groans filling the car. Every fucked-out praise shoots you straight to the core. You’re dripping on the floor, wet and empty and begging for him. 

“My perfect girl,” he praises, a whiny, worshiping sound. “So pretty on her knees for me. Fucking drooling everywhere.” You laugh at that, feeling saliva drip down your cheeks. “You were made for my cock, weren’t you? Made for me.” 

You try to agree, but it’s a slobbering mess around his dick. The vibrations are enough; his eyes roll back into his skull, his hips jump. You choke on his length, releasing him with a cough, then diving back to work. 

“Can’t fucking get enough of me,” he says. His hand caresses your hair, a soothing motion. “D’you want more?” 

You nod around him. He smiles, gripping a hand in your hair. The sting gives you the same reaction as before; you moan around him, toes tingling. He pushes your mouth deeper around him. This time, you expect it; breathing through your nose, you welcome him in your throat. 

“There you go,” he whines. He can’t stop looking at you, at the mess of your mouth. “So fucking filthy.” Again, he presses you down. A moan spills out of him. You grip his knee with your free hand. 

Matty controls your head, pushing it deeper and deeper around his cock, making the most fucked-out noises from the feel of it. You pump him with your hand every time he pulls you up to his tip, stroking back to the base as he lowers you down. He does it quicker and quicker, setting a fast pace. Again, you shift on your knees, trying to soothe away that burning need between your thighs. 

Matty spots it immediately. “Are you wet?” He taunts, though it’s a little ridiculous when he’s out of breath and on the edge of a moan. You nod around him, a little whine coming out, and he smirks. “Soaked ‘cause you’re sucking my dick, huh? If I knew it got you going like this, I would have had your mouth around me every single fucking day, darling.” And it’s not like you would have objected, considering you’re the one who’s been practically chasing him for the past week. 

“Dirty girl. They all think you’re so innocent, but I know.” He smirks. “Bet your father would love to know what I’m doing to his precious girl.” Need and shame burn inside of you, and you can’t figure out which one makes you flush and your mind spin. Cockiness drips from his tongue as he trails, “‘S not my fault his daughter loves my cock, right?” You don’t know whether to nod or shake your head, instead moaning around him. 

Matty reaches the joint out, telling you, “Hold that.” You frown. It’s unlit by now, useless, and he could certainly throw it anywhere in the backseat to fish it out later. It’s not like his car is clean; trash litters it, cigarette burns scar the leather, and the smell of weed is permanent. Still, you don’t question it, unwrapping your hand from his cock to take the joint. 

It becomes apparent, then, why he asked you. Raking two hands through your hair, he keeps your head in place as his hips fuck up into you. With your hand gone and occupied, he thrusts deeper into your mouth. You gag around him, and he releases you just enough to catch your breath, before pumping past your lips again. 

He groans at every stroke, burying your nose in the faint hair scattering up his belly. Pleasure blooms on his face. He’s so pretty, so vulnerable and fucked out, face wrinkling and lips panting. 

His head falls down to look at you again. He makes a whine from the back of his throat. “Fuck, you’ve got spit everywhere.” It’s true, chin wet as slurping sounds resonate on the steamy windows. 

If your ex-boyfriend had even tried to lose a hand in your hair and push your head down, you’d have bit him with a vengeance. But kneeling like this with Matty using you only brings a sick pleasure out of you. You feel your core throb, thighs sticky with need. You don’t know what he’s doing to you, don’t understand how he manages to ruin you so thoroughly. 

Your nails dig into his knee, the other hand pinching the joint. Your eyes water at every thrust until tears roll down your eyes, mixing with the wet of your cheeks and chin. 

Matty awes, sickly amused as he sings, “Are you crying?” You feel suddenly embarrassed, attempting to shake your head, deny the proofs streaming down your cheeks. “Is Daddy’s dick too big for you?” The nickname strikes through the daze, shock and arousal coursing through your veins. 

Matty doesn’t even realize what he’s said, too gone to mind any words. A string of curses  comes next as he bobs your head. Still, it’s all you can think about, playing back the word in that filthy head of yours. 

“You’re doing so well, baby,” he promises. “Just a little bit more.” His hand strokes your cheek, wiping at the runaway tears. “Gonna make me come so hard. D’you want my cum?” You nod vaguely. He grins at that. “Yeah? Wanna fucking swallow it?” You hum around him, excited. He moans, “Fuck. You’re such a slut.” 

Again, there should be outrage, should be a dramatic tear off his dick as you tell him off, but he says it in such a reverent way, like a compliment, a praise, and you find yourself whining around him instead. Your cunt throbs, empty and lonely, and maybe you are a slut after all. You’ve been nothing but a needy, begging mess for him anyway. If it gives you this much pleasure in exchange, is there really something wrong with it? 

Matty senses the way you preen under the name. He smirks, fucking up faster, chasing an end. “My little slut. So perfect, made for me. Would spend her days on her knees, wouldn’t she? Till she’s all bruised and fucked out.” His thrusts grow erratic. “I’d take care of you, princess. I’d put you in the best bed and I’d pump you full of my cum until you’re dripping with it. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Like being my little fucktoy?” A yes comes out garbled out of your mouth. “All those smarts, gone for a dirty man like me. Fucking ironic, isn’t it?” 

You hollow your cheeks, run your tongue, hope to finish him. Hear his pretty cries, see his scrunched, coming face, taste his cum. Let it be your turn. 

You take back charge as Matty gets too hazy to make sense of anything, much less the furious tempo he’s set. You bob up and down with abandon, slobbering everywhere. His hips stutter, meeting you halfway. His cock twitches in your mouth. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Matty cries. His fingers dig into your hair, pulling vengefully. “Shit, princess, I’m—” With a scream, he comes on your tongue. 

His body shivers as the tangy taste of white ropes spill down your throat. You swallow everything, watching his face as it grows peaceful. A slack, happy smile shines on his lips. He strokes your hair, as if an apology. 

Only when he softens do you pull out of him, saliva stringing from his tip to your lip. You lick it off, chuckling. Show off your empty mouth. His cum is all gone. 

“Good girl,” Matty praises, out of breath. He tucks his cock back in his jeans. “What do we say now?” 

“Thank you.” 

He hums. “I think you deserve a reward for doing so well for me.” You grin at him, childishly excited. He laughs, taking both your hands and raising you off your knees. “You want that, don’t you?” You bite your lip.

As soon as you’re up, he digs under your skirt, pulling off your underwear. You gasp as the air hits your bare skin. He rubs a thumb on the wet patch of the pink fabric, arching an eyebrow for you. “So fucking ready for me just from sucking my cock.” 

“Not just from sucking your cock,” you say. “I’ve been ready for you all week.”

“Is that so?” Matty flips you around, sitting you square on his lap, your back against his chest. This close, you can smell the sweat and weed on him. Each leg hangs from the sides of his knees. He parts them, spreading you wide, putting you on display. 

There’s the knowledge that anyone could see you tugging at the back of your mind. No matter the smoke, and the fogged up windows, and the dark of the night, it’s still a public alleyway. They could walk in on you, cunt out, wet and throbbing. It’s nasty, and it’s hot, and now you’re grinding against nothing, hoping for friction. 

Thankfully, Matty indulges you, wrapping his arm around your waist and teasing two fingers over your swollen clit. You jump, already oversensitive, moaning at the little contact. He rubs in slow circles. 

“I could have had you any time, then?” He whispers in your ear. “Could have pulled you in the dry storage and had my dirty way with you?” 

“Yes.” 

His touch becomes faster, pressing harder, zeroing in on your bud with a middle finger. You scrunch your face, already so close. A little pout comes on your face. You don’t want to finish without his fingers inside of you, not when you’ve been this eager for them. Your pussy clenches around nothing, unsatisfied. 

“Any day, any time, anywhere?” His hand ghosts at your entrance, gathering a pool of your dripping juices. 

“Yes,” you repeat, almost frustrated he doesn’t get it. You need him all the time. He seems satisfied by your answer, dipping two fingers inside your cunt. 

You gasp, wrinkling your face with the overwhelming euphoria that spreads through you. The stretch is delicious. You’re already rolling your hips into his fingers, begging for more. 

He bites at your earlobe, licking down your neck. Husky and gravely, he teases, “You would scream my name so the whole restaurant knows whose cock is fucking you this good? So they know that little princess likes to get railed filthy by an old, sleazy man?” As though to demonstrate, he pumps his fingers quicker into you. Sopping sounds resonate with your answering whines. 

It’s a silly question. As if you haven’t had that exact fantasy before, playing over and over as guests criticize your every move. You insist, “Yes, Daddy.”

Matty’s fingers freeze inside of you. His heart races, the rhythm drumming on your back. Your eyes snap open, scared you’ve done something wrong. He’s the one who— A flush spreads up your cheeks. You’re so disgusting, using that nickname while he— 

“Say it again.” He’s choked and out of breath. Turned on. You smirk, victorious. 

You grip his wrist and make him pump inside of you again. You let your head fall on his shoulder, moaning, “Daddy, please, make me come.” 

“Fuck.” It’s all the incentive he needs, apparently, because now he’s thrusting and curling inside of you, finding that magical spot each time. The heel of his hand rubs at your clit, making jolts of pleasure spark through you. His other hand snakes around your chest and paws at your breast, digging under your shirt to rub the nipple. 

Every sensation works perfectly together to get you buzzing with ecstasy. You feel drunk— or high— mind swirling inside your head until all you know is his name. Your core tightens, toes curling and uncurling. 

“Come on my fingers,” he demands, voice low and hoarse. “Fucking drench Daddy’s hand. I wanna taste you.”

There’s something so desperate in his voice that makes you even needier. You throb around his digits, eyebrows furrowing, strings thinning. He pinches your nipple. You open your mouth with a silent cry, shaking all over. 

“That’s it,” he coos. “I got you, baby. You’re right there.” You nod frantically. “Just come for me. Come. Come—” Just like he demands, your body breaks and you shatter on his fingers. 

Euphoria spreads through you, that overwhelming sense of relief. His name burns your tongue, over and over, a plea and a reverence and a worship. He continues to slide in and out of you, slowly, tenderly, until you’re done shaking and throbbing. 

Your body hums pleasantly, bone-deep happy. You practically melt on his body, each limb letting go and settling into him. You sigh, satisfied. Finally haunts your head. Yet, you’re already looking out for next time. 

Matty pulls out of you. He brings his wet fingers to his mouth; you hear the pornographic moan he makes as he cleans them. You flush, too tired to make a chastising comment. 

“Best meal in town,” he says, cheeky. You half-slap him, half-giggle. 

His hand falls from your breasts, but wraps around your waist instead, pulling you even closer, trapping you in the heat of his arms. He kisses your cheek. “We can stay like this for a little while. I’ll drive you home after.” 

You crack an eye open. “Are you high?”

He scoffs. “No.” He grins against your cheek, teasing, “You’ve sobered me up.”

Being cute does not distract you. You hum, unconvinced. “What’s the alphabet backwards?”

“Are you fucking kidding—” He blows air from his nose. Resigned, he recites, “Z, Y, X—”

—

It’s fifteen past ten and the house is empty. Groceries linger on the kitchen island and you could, theoretically, put them all together yourself. Though it’s just not quite the same when you have to do the work under the orange light of the kitchen hood, alone except for some sad blues and a bottle of white and the sizzling sound of the pan. 

In your hand, an apologetic text flashes at you. You bite on a humus dipped carrot, bitter. You understand, you say, and pretend you believe him when he swears he’ll make it up to you. You take a long sip of your wine glass. 

You stare at the lonely apartment. An idea tickles the back of your mind. It would be a waste of wine, and space, and freedom if you dutifully went to bed now. Your hand lingers on his contact, then press on the picture of Matty’s frown, cigarette hanging between his lips. 

I have my place all to myself. Do you wanna come? You hit send before you overthink it. A rush of anxiety swipes through you. 

He’s quick to answer. depends. do i get to cum anywhere? You roll your eyes. He’s truly insufferable sometimes. 

Invitation retracted. 

i’m on my way

You can’t control the pleased grin on your face, but there’s no one to see it anyway. You can indulge a little in the childish thrill that blooms inside your stomach. You feel sunshine from the inside-out. 

He’s ringing your doorbell the next time you hear of him. By then you’re already a little flushed with wine, practically running to the door to buzz him in. 

A knock resonates just a few minutes later. You swing the door wide open. “Hi.” Again, you can’t seem to control your giddy smile. 

“You shouldn’t open the door just like that. I could’ve been a bad man.” 

“You are.” Matty snorts. You move out of the doorframe, gesturing for him to step inside. 

He walks your flat with confidence, though he hasn't been here since that fatal night and, even then, it had been a quick in and out thing. He lingers a little to take in the set-up. The open floor plan, the L leather couch, the massive dining table and the kitchen island that hasn’t seen any action in months. It’s a shame for a family of chefs how little you use it. 

It’s the first time you’ve seen him outside of a work setting, either a grueling shift or the drunk aftermath. He’s cleaner; white shirt rid of stains, jeans unburdened by an apron. He still sports a stumble, ever lazy to shave it off, but his hair sprouts in soft curls from his head. There’s a lack of gloomy energy, like what you thought was a permanent tired look was, in fact, reserved for the restaurant. He looks good is what you mean.

Matty stares you up and down shamelessly, taking in your off-duty outfit as well. A collared shirt buttoned conservatively, tucked into a black skirt, leather heeled loafers and white socks at your feet. Your hands shine with silver rings. You are, admittedly, much cleaner than him. Matty seems to dig your preppy look anyway, licking a gaze up and down your legs, rubbing his smirk away with two of his fingers. 

You side-step him, making your way to the kitchen. Matty follows behind you, taking the time to gaze at the paintings dotting your walls. Pretentious things your father bought because he was told by other people they were masterpieces, they were technical, they were touching. You get to the cabinets, searching for a matching wine glass.  

“Why’d you invite me?” Matty asks, seemingly an afterthought. He peers at your half-empty glass, raising it to examine the wine. 

“I was supposed to have dinner with my dad, but he’s too busy today after all.” You turn to Matty with a glass in hand. “There’s some sort of important event with investors that just came up. He couldn’t untangle himself,” you press. You don’t know why you feel the need to rehash your father’s excuses, as though you had to defend him to Matty. It’s silly; he doesn’t even care, instead bringing your wine glass to his nose and giving it a swirl.

“It’s a Chenin Blanc.” You say as you uncork the bottle, pouring him his own glass. You slide it his way, tsking regretfully, “It was gonna pair beautifully with the seared scallops.” There’s a tinge of bitterness in your voice, and you try your best to smooth it. You can’t sound annoyed. 

“Served with what?” 

“Baby spinach and spiced pomegranate glaze.” 

“Damn,” Matty shakes his head. “That does sound good.” He takes a seat at the dining table, shamelessly making himself at home. He cocks his head, bringing the glass to his lips. “So, what? You invited me to cook it for you instead?”

Your lips twitch. “I’ve already eaten actually.” A mismatch of carrots, humus, swiss cheese and chocolate-covered blueberries eaten standing up at the kitchen island, but a meal nonetheless. 

Matty hums. He leans back on his chair, smirking to himself. “You know, I feel a bit peckish myself.” 

Your arch an eyebrow, playful as you drawl, “Is that so?” The cheeky, knowing look on his face wakes the heat in your belly. You clench your thigh; he spots it, amused. “There’s food in the fridge.” 

“A miracle! She has more than kraft dinner.”

“I didn’t specify which food. Maybe mac’n’cheese is all that’s waiting for you.”

Matty smiles. “I think I’m craving something else.” His hand reaches out, grabbing yours until you stumble into him. 

You grip his shoulders to balance yourself, both legs siding one of his knees. He looks at you with those dark, dangerous eyes that announce nothing but trouble. You tower over him, see him blinking his spiderleg eyelashes up at you. His lips part, pretty and red. A rush of excitement shoots through you. Your breath hitches. 

“Wow,” you say, mocking. “You just got here and you’re already trying to bend me over the table. Didn’t even ask me about my day.” 

“Oh, sorry,” he says, faux-apologetic. His hands dig into your thighs, picking you up and hoisting you on the table. You sit before him, blush as he spreads your legs out for him. With a cheeky, shit-eating grin, he looks up at you and says, “How was your day, princess?”

You up your nose, ignoring his bait. “It was good. I—” His hands rise up your thighs, brushing against your silky smooth skin. You can’t stop the shivers. “Fuck, I went to the library and—” 

He bends down, peppering sweet kisses where his fingertips had been. Your breath hitches at the ghosting touch, teasing and tickling and lighting you up. He looks up at you, face nearing where you need him most. “Mmh, and what?” 

“Just— shit.” He spreads your legs further apart, giving him ample access to bite and suck at your thigh, which he does with worshiping abandon. He soothes away the hurt with a tongue. You pant, moaning lowly, “I started early on my first week readings for—”

Matty snorts. “Nerd.”

“It’s actually really essential to—” He slips your underwear aside, finding your clit and thumbing a lazy circle on it. “Ah, fucking hell, Matty!” 

He smiles, so fucking proud. His finger speeds up. “What book did you read?” 

“Well, the textbook. It was— It’s about—” Words escape your mouth when his tongue is burning your skin, getting closer and closer to where his thumb is hard at work. Euphoria shakes in your stomach. You bite your lip, gripping the edge of the table. 

“Yes?” He blinks up at you, condescendingly begging, “Please, educate a poor, simple plebeian.”

You bite your cheek, teasing, “I don’t know if I can. He’s really only good at fucking.”

Matty rolls his eyes. “You’re missing the other reason I’m good with my hands.”

And he makes it easy to forget all about his cooking skills when he dips two fingers inside your wet entrance, pumping you slowly on the dinner table. God-given hands, made to bring you to the very edge and back. You curse, gripping the wood under your palms even harder. 

“I’m waiting.”

You huff. “It’s microeconomics. It’s comparing comparative averages and absolute advantages of high.” 

He grins. “Well, which one wins?”

“Comparative. It’s always better as you lose because the opportunity cost is smaller and— Oh, fuck—” Your legs tremble, your face scrunching as he hits the sinful spot inside of you that has you singing. You pant to catch your breath, groaning, “It’s better when you— Matty—”

“My smart girl,” Matty praises, curling his fingers inside of you just so. “You learned all of this already. Don’t even need to study that you’re fucking moaning it for me.” He plants a kiss on the top of your thigh. “It’s better when…”

Your mind is languid, euphoria pumping inside of you with the rhythm of his hand. You try to blink to conscience, peering down at him. “It’s better when the opportunity cost—” He makes rapid swipes at your clit and pleasure jolts through you. You shake your head. “You know what? You don’t need to know all this. You can just be dumb and pretty and warm my bed all day. Be my trophy husband.”

He snickers. “Yeah? Gonna make me your little housewife?” 

You grin, volleying back, “Keep you cooking and fucking all day while I earn the big bucks, babe.” One hand rises up to his hair, digging into the mess of it. You smirk. “But you’d have to be very good for me. Keep me satisfied at all times.” 

“Oh, don’t worry.” His fingers quicken, thrusting in and out of you until you’re whining for him. “I’d fill you up every night and leave you sticky and happy.” The wet sounds of your cunt fill the kitchen. You don’t doubt him for one second. 

Your breath leaves in puffs out of your mouth. You tilt your head back, moaning for the ceiling, eyes wrinkled shut. Your hand tugs at his hair, rejoicing in his pathetic little groans. You fall back, smiling mischievously at him. “I thought you were hungry.”

His eyes flash. “Fucking famished.” He bends down and licks your cunt. 

You jump, rolling your hips into his face, chasing those delicious reverbs. He licks at your clit with a pointed tongue, pressing into the sensitive bundle of nerves until honey ecstasy is spreading through your veins. 

One hand fucks into you with calculated efficiency; hard and fast, just like you like it. The other holds your red underwear aside, fingers pressing into the meat of your thigh, leaving fingertip prints to remember him by. 

“Matty!” Pleasure boils inside of you. You’ve missed his tongue, missed the way he tastes at you: starved, diligent, fucking slurping the last drop. You cry his name over and over, a sweet chant that encourages him on. 

Thank fuck for his hands. They slide wetly inside of you, searching for hot ecstasy and pulling it out of you in drowning moans. You tug at his hair, grip the table, try to attach yourself to something as you;

“Matty, I’m—” He knows, of course, because you’re throbbing around his fingers. He circles your clit with his tongue, swiping at it, adding enough sinful pleasure that you feel your orgasm grow and grow. It expands in your belly, threatens your limbs; “I’m gonna—”

You come with a scream, falling apart on his tongue. He doesn’t slow yet. His mouth is hard at work, his fingers pumping into you still. He chases your orgasm until the end, until you’re shaking and whimpering from the intensity. You push his head, and only then does he release you, smiling up at you with sticky cheeks. 

“Good?”

You brush his curls back, smiling happily. “You might earn yourself a weekly allocation if you keep it up, babe.” 

“I’m the luckiest trophy husband in the world.” 

You twist one of his curls around his finger, so light and elated that you feel no shyness or shame to say, “D’you want to see my room?” 

He half-grins. “Yeah.” 

You jump from the table, grabbing his hand. He lingers by the table just long enough to shoot back half of his wine glass in one gulp, slamming it down on the table with a satisfied sigh. It stands there with a stain of your slick in the shape of his lips. 

You deadpan him. “Good wine shouldn’t be wasted,” he defends. 

“I don’t even think you let it stay on your tongue long enough to taste it.” 

You regret your choice of words as soon as you say them. Cursing, you already expect the joke when he quips, “Didn’t want to disrupt the other taste that’s in my mouth right now, you see?” 

You roll your eyes. “It’s down the hallway,” you say, and tug at his hand until he follows. 

You push the door into your childhood bedroom. It’s a clean, organized place, but it maintains its youthful element, like a time capsule. Matty steps in, intrigued. It’s the first time he’s ever been and he paces it with curiosity. 

The shelves are decorated with childhood trophies; debate, math, punctuality. Even a participation medal from fifth grade soccer hangs on the corner. Thick, leather books mix with colorful cracked spines of YA literature on the bookshelf, along with fake plants and gaudy trinkets. The walls host picture frames of dental braced friends smiling wide. You have awful bangs in some of them and you stick your tongue out at the flash. On the bed, Mr Snuffles — a leopard plushie — lays like a king. 

You flush. You hadn’t realized how childish your bedroom at home still was. You’ve got an uncomfortable need to tear it all down and build it back as a refined, clean look..

“Cute,” he says, and you want to bury straight into the ground. He taps a picture of prom where you hold the arm of a visibly nervous teenage boy. “Was that your little boyfriend who couldn’t make you come?”

“No, that was my friend. I wasn’t interested in dating back then. I was a very serious girl.” 

He chuckles, turning back to you. He jokes, “Hard to believe now.” You shake your head, pretending to be bothered. He eyes the photograph once more. “You look pretty.” 

“Thanks.” It comes squeaked out of your lips. You really didn’t expect the compliment. 

He continues to inspect until you grow tired of it. You huff, deciding to go on the offensive until he takes a hint. “You know, I’ve actually never had any guy here before.” 

Matty flips to you, grinning. “No?” 

“No.” Your fingers fly to your collar and slowly start unbuttoning the top one, a silent invitation. 

“Very, very serious girl.” Matty watches your fingers, devouring the skin you unveil for him. The cups of your red bra peek in view. His eyes grow dark, though he still doesn’t move to do it himself. 

“I was very studious.” 

You get to your very last button. The shirt parts, a cracked door vision into your needy body. Matty drawls, slow and nonchalant, unrushed, “Must’ve spent a lot of time with your hand between your legs, then, if no one’s been here before.”

You try not to grow embarrassed. You have spent a lot of time doing so, mostly in recent weeks. You push the shirt past your shoulders and it drops at your feet. Matty’s eyes immediately fall to your breasts, rising with panting breaths for him. 

“Maybe,” you whisper shyly. You bend down to slip off your shoes, sliding your socks off your feet. 

“Thought about me a lot during it?” He asks, cocky. 

You straighten up again. You dig in your cheek, feeling both of them heat. “Maybe.” You find the zipper at your side and draw it down slowly, teasingly. Your skirt falls limply around your hips and you shimmy it down your legs. 

It seems you’ve found yourself half-naked to a very much dressed Matty again. His gaze devours every inch of your skin, licking up your legs, biting your hips, teasing your navel. You grow wet between your thighs just from the promise in his eyes. 

Your hand reaches behind yourself to your bra, but Matty tuts. “That’s mine,” he says, and there’s an air of danger in his voice. Your arms fall back to your sides, burned. You stand a bit straighter for him, aching deep inside yourself. 

Matty takes long, slow steps towards you, letting the need boil and bubble inside of you. He stands before you, looking down into your eyes. Your lips part, your heart screams his name. He grazes two fingers along your waist, snaking to your back, and kisses you. 

You respond with an eager tongue, opening your lips up to him and kissing him back. He still tastes like you, like your slick that dried on his cheeks. You shiver at the thought. 

His hands find the small of your back, heavy and pressing into you, so fucking present you feel your mind twists on itself. You travel yours up his arms, finding his shoulders and sneaking into the hair at his nape. 

He tilts his head to change the angle and your legs clench. He draws out all your wanton needs with his skilled tongue, makes you putty and malleable. You’re ready for him, for anything. 

His fingers dance on your spine, climbing up each vertebrae until they catch on your bra band. Your breath hitches. He unhooks it. Matty stops kissing you to pull the bra off your arms. 

Your breasts lay in view, pebbled and peaked. He takes a good look at them, then bends down to catch a nipple into his mouth. “Fuck, Matty!” Your hands twist at his curls, tugging and patting as he sucks and nips your tits. 

He leaves bites on the underside, your sternum, kissing and licking down your stomach until he knees before you. You moan, still unused to the sight of him. Each hand hooks to a side of your underwear and he pulls it down and off your legs. You keep a stabilizing grip on his hair as you step out of it. 

Matty comes back up to you, breathing harshly. He kisses your lips one last time, then draws you on the bed. You’re laying on the purple sheets for him, naked and wet and flushed. Every body part is aware of him and looks it. 

Still, Matty takes a step back. “Show me what you do when you think of me.” You stare at him in shock. You’re naked for him, laying on your bed in godly offerance like a fucking daydream, and he wants you to finger yourself? 

Matty laughs. “Come on, princess,” he teases. “Show Daddy.” The nickname jolts you. Tiny, electrical shivers run down your spine and you bite your lip, brushing a hand down your stomach. 

You waste no time, too drunk on pleasure and want to bother teasing yourself. You part your legs and rub two fingers on your swollen clit, jumping at the sudden feeling. You bite your lip, cracking your eyes open to find Matty’s

His eyes watch you with obsession. You make a low whimper for him, circling your bundle of nerves, arching your back. A tantalizing show, hopefully enough to get him to touch you. You want him so deeply you’re shivering for him, hot and dripping all over. 

You’re efficient and quick; you know all the spots of yourself and press them just so. Pleasure is not something you draw out, pumping and rubbing until you develop carpal tunnel. You’re in and out, wiping your fingers clean on your thigh. 

It’s why you’re already dipping your digits inside yourself. You cry at the stretch, though never as delicious and fulfilling as his. Still, ecstasy runs through your body. 

“Matty,” you moan, and once again hope the breathy, needy shape of his name in your mouth is enough to get him to replace your hardworking fingers. 

“I’m right here, baby,” he says, transfixed by your hands, your mouth, your panting tits. You see his gaze and smirk, grabbing your breast and twisting the nipple. A low whine leaves you. “Fuck. Does that feel good?” 

You nod furiously. Your fingers slide quickly in and out of you. “Not as good as you, though,” you pout. 

Matty grins, cocky and a dick about it. “‘Course not.” 

Your eyes flutter shut. You let yourself be taken over by the euphoria swimming through you. Your mouth calls his name like it was him making you feel this way and not the three fingers fucking into you. In a way, it’s the fact that he’s here that draws this overwhelming pleasure out of you. It’s never been this intense with yourself. 

“What do you think of when you’re in your head?” He whispers, sounding affected by the spectacle you give him. 

You bite your lip, trembling. “You. You on your knees for me behind the bar. You bending me over the sink of the bathroom in the middle of two guests. You letting me suck your dick on the staircase of the alleyway. You fingering me at The Darling in front of Landon until I fucking come all over the booth.”

“All these nasty thoughts while you’re tucked tight in your little bed?” 

You nod. “I replay that night in the kitchen over, and over, and over. I know every little detail, everything you've done to me—” Behind your eyelids, graphic images of you pressed into the ground, giggling and coming, flash to you. It’s too much; you snap. Your eyes flash open. “Fuck me, Daddy. Please.”

“You need it?”

“I need it so, so bad.” Your wrist is tired between your legs. Still, you work, feeling the intensity build to an impossible degree. “Need you. It’s all I’ve been thinking about.”

“Shit,” he groans. You see the tent in his jeans and know he’s just as ready as you. “Don’t worry, princess. I’ll give it to you.” A grin shines on your face. You clench around your fingers in excitement. “Just as soon as you come for me.”

You pout. A whiny cry comes out of you. “It’s not the same without you.” 

“I know, baby,” he pouts, faux-broken over it as if he wasn’t the one putting you through this torture. “You’re doing so well for me. I wanna see you come now, though. Can you do that for me?”

Your stomach tightens and you know that you can, that you will. You’re still a little bitter, holding back as though in just a few seconds Matty was gonna get to his knees and finish you off yourself. 

“Your clit’s feeling a little neglected, isn’t it?” You moan, pressing into your bud like he silently demanded. Your legs kick at the sensation. You arch your back, crying to the ceiling. “That’s it. You’re so close.” You rub and fuck until you can taste the ecstasy. Goddammit. 

“You’re right there,” he says, and makes it true. You feel your orgasm threaten the edges of you. “Just a bit more. Come on, fuck yourself. Think of me, of my cock. That’s right, princess.” You scream, staring into his eyes. He devours each inch of you, so fucking eager. “You’re gonna come for me, aren’t you? Right now. Come for Daddy.” With a mewl, your climax crashes through you. 

Your body slackens, pleasure swooping through you in one grandiose wave. Relief washes you, and then the slight bitterness that it was all your own doing. Barely reeling from the orgasm and you’re already needing more. 

You don’t ride out the climax; Matty rips your fingers out of you and sucks them into his mouth. You sigh at the sight as he rolls his tongue around your digits. It’s sinful the way he moans, like the best fucking meal of his life. 

He releases them with a pop, then kisses your palm. “So good, babe. You did amazing.” He kisses your wrist. “You’re my little princess, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” you pout. His lips trail up your arm, tickling your sensitive skin. You shiver, moaning as he brushes your shoulder and licks up your collarbone. 

“How do you want me? Since you’ve been thinking about it all the fucking time.” He kisses your neck. You moan, fluttering your eyelashes. 

“I wanna ride you,” you breathe out. 

Matty smirks against your skin. “Yeah? Gonna get yourself off on Daddy’s dick?”

You grin, nodding eagerly. “Gonna make you feel so good, too.” 

He smiles. “Alright then, baby.” He rolls onto his back, pulling you on top of him. You sit on his lap like a throne. “Make me feel good.”

You shake your head, pulling his shirt up his chest. “Get naked first. I wanna see you.” 

“She’s demanding.”

“It’s my fantasy.” Matty chuckles. Still, he tugs his shirt off his shoulders, throwing it beyond your bed. 

You had been so drunk on his cock the first time it happened, you hadn’t been able to really get a good look at him. This time, your eyes lap up every inch of his skin, especially the tattooed ones. You draw the outlines of them with the tip of your fingers. He shivers at the feeling as you dance on his hip, his happy trail, his chest. You press a hand there, holding yourself up. 

“Pants,” you order. You have a finely tuned demanding voice; you’ve led many school projects with an iron fist and an unarguable tone. Still, you know Matty only humors you when he obeys, kicking off his shoes, unbuttoning his pants and pushing them off. 

His cock slaps his stomach. It’s hard and leaking, and your mouth waters at the sight. You feel your sticky thighs beg for him. Cunt fluttering, you take him in your fist, jerking him slowly. Matty moans as his head falls back on the pillows. Oh, you will like that. Already, the power rushes to your head, loosening it drunkenly. 

You hoist yourself on your knees, then hesitate. Quickly, you grab your leopard plushie and turn him around until he faces the other way. 

Matty stares at you in disbelief. “Are you kidding me?” 

“Mr. Snuffles doesn’t need to see that!” You cry out, defensive. 

“I can’t believe I’m about to shag in a bed with a stuffed toy right there.”

You raise your eyebrows, cocky. “Don’t get it wrong. I’m shagging you.”

Matty’s hands travel up to your hips, spreading over the bones possessively. He smiles up at you. “Do it, then. Fuck me.” You smile, taking his cock and leading it to your dripping cunt. 

You line it up, then slowly slide down on his length. Loud, relieved moans leave your and Matty’s mouth. A shared song drumming up both your spines in harmony. You bottom out and think fucking finally. 

“Oh, God,” you breathe, eyes rolling back. You take a second there, immobile, reveling in the heavenly moment. The way he fills you up so perfectly, stretches you in the most delicious ways. Your cunt throbs around him, eager. 

He makes a low curse, digging his nails into your hips. You sense his becoming restless, the insistent way he presses into your skin, as though physically stopping himself from holding you in place and fucking up into him. Indulgently, you begin moving. 

You haven’t been on top very often. You always used to find yourself sore and tired and bored after a few minutes, begging to either roll onto your back or end it right there. This time, however, there’s a practically all-consuming need to succeed. You want to fuck him, to permanently engrave his brain with the memory of you. 

You come at it like schoolwork; focused, diligent, persistent. You attempt experimental thrusts at first, getting yourself used to how deep he hits you. It’s slow, tentative things; you try different angles, sliding in and out, frowning as you analyze the different ways pleasure blooms under your skin. 

Under you, Matty groans, puffing out breaths. “I can hear you thinking. Stop it.”

You arch an eyebrow. “It was ‘what a smart girl’ thirty minutes ago, but now it’s ‘turn off your brain’?”

“Exactly. Want you to be fucked stupid now.” 

You snort. “That’s not gonna happen.” 

He hums, smirking. “Don’t give me a challenge.” You roll your eyes. 

You settled on a rocking rhythm, something that hits all the perfect places inside of you. Your hair sticks to your nape, effort trembling your thighs already. You moan, roll your head back. “Like that?” You breathe out. Euphoria begins to prickle at your skin and your smile slackens your mouth. 

“Yeah, baby,” Matty nods. “Just—” His hold on your hips is strangling. His hands clench, begging you to give something mindnumbing. “Go faster.” 

You ignore his request, continuing that slow, teasing pace. You love feeling every inch of his cock as you buck on it, love to hear him grow desperate for you for a change. Every pathetic, quiet groan he makes resonates straight to your core. Head still rolled back to the ceiling, you rock stubbornly, smiling to yourself. 

A particularly artful stroke has your nails digging into his chest. He shivers under you. “Fuck, faster,” Matty pants.  

You smirk down at him, cheeky. “What’s the magic word, princess?” 

Matty rolls his eyes. “Don’t get bratty,” he says, then gives your ass a warning spank. You jump at the sting, bucking on his cock. Low heat simmers through you. You bite your lip, quickening your thrusts dutifully. Matty smirks at you, all-knowing. 

You speed up, falling back on his length again and again until the slapping sounds of your skins fill the room. You sense the resonating ecstasy pull at your stomach. You’re aware, unfortunately, that he’s right. It’s better, stronger. 

“That’s right,” he says, and you want to slap that shit-eating grin off his lips. “Fucking faster.” You obey like some deep-seated instinct, bouncing above him. 

A part of you wants to slow to a snail pace and teach him a lesson — get him reciting all those patience proverbs he’s so keen on — but a bigger part of you melts and drips at the ecstasy pulsing through you. Speedy, deep rolls have you shaking, moaning his name like a worship. You’re irrationally convinced you might die if you even try to slow down, like losing the pleasure he’s coaxing out of you right now would be a fatal crash. 

Again, he gives you that teasing, devilish stares that tells you he’s well aware of the burning heat he causes you. His lips stretch up into a smirk, and he parts them to talk some more. You slap a hand over his mouth instead. “Shut it,” you warn. He laughs under your palm, too happy at your reaction. 

His tongue sticks out, licking your hand childishly, and you release him. “You only like my mouth for one thing,” he says, pouting at you. 

“Don’t give me ideas.” 

“Want to sit on it again, huh?” He teases, cocking his head. “Maybe when you’re done fucking me.” He licks his teeth. “Though I doubt you’ll have the energy to sit up then. I’ll have to lay you down and clean you all up. Would you like that, baby?” 

“Anything that doesn’t involve you talking.”

Matty hums, and you sense the danger in his tone. You’ve pushed him just a bit too far, and the low thrum of thrill resonates in your stomach. You hold your breath, sick apprehension bringing you sinful pleasure. 

“You’ve got a mouth on you today,” he says. “Should’ve filled it up before I gave you what you wanted. Wouldn’t have so much to say if you were drooling and crying for my cock.” You wonder if that’s exactly what he’ll do; pull you off by your hips and onto your knees for a lesson. 

Instead, his hand pinches your nipple, then snakes up your chest, your collarbone, spreading over your throat. You clench around him, lust flashing in your eyes, and he smiles at you. “My little slut,” he coos. “You’d let me do anything.” 

You rock on him furiously, humping his lap to get rid of that building pressure in your core. Your mouth hangs open, pathetic whimpers spilling out every time your clit rubs on his pelvis. “Yes, Daddy,” you say in that sweet tone he knows is nothing but trouble. 

“Touch your clit,” he orders, and you’ve got a hand flying between your thighs, swiping on the bundle of nerves with abandon. You mewl in his lap, fucking and rubbing until you’re dripping on him. When you’re halfway through a moan, pussy clenching around his cock, Matty presses into your neck. 

The moan dies in your throat, mouth hanging open as a rush of adrenaline spreads through you. Your head swarms with silence, a sort of calmness buzzing and tingling under your face, and you feel every thrust of his cock he pumps up into you like a true hit of ecstasy. You whine, suspended in the moment. 

“My pretty girl,” he whispers. You roll your eyes. “My girl.”

His fingers release your throat and the sudden breath of air buzzes through you. The world sharpens; you sense his cock, his skin under your palms, his hand still around your neck— like he owns you. Your cunt tightens at the idea, something pretty stringing up your spine. Pleasure intensifies, practically breathing with you, until your brain rushes with endorphins.

“There she is. So good for me now,” he says and your lips stretch up with a proud grin. You’re lazy on your bones, letting him rock you on his cock without a care. “You wouldn’t do this for anyone, would you?” 

You shake your head fervently. “Only you.” 

“That’s right,” he nods. “Only me.” He sneaks a thumb to your clit, pushing away your slack hand and working at it himself. “No fucking guy can make you feel like this.” 

“I know,” you whine, and there’s the faint heartbreak of it tugging at the back of your mind. Nothing tangible, just the knowledge of what you’ll spend the rest of your life mourning and missing once he’s gone. Once you’re gone.

He lets go of your neck, dropping it to your waist, and you whine at the loss. It quickly turns into a moan as he uses both hands to guide you on his length properly. A quick, hard tempo sets, shaking your legs with growing pleasure. You feel him in the deepest part of you, hitting again and again that sweet spot as he puppeteers your freely given hips. 

“God, Matty.”

He smirks. “That was redundant.” You roll your eyes, half from pleasure and half from annoyance. He chuckles at that, happily giving a deep stroke that has you purring for him, as though to prove his point. 

You hold your weight up with a hand beside his head, drooping into the mattress. You tilt your hips, angling yourself perfectly for his drilling cock. Your face breaks open with a moan, but you shake your head. You force your eyes open to take in his face; sweaty and flushed and overwhelmed with pleasure and work. You lick your lips. Pleasure swirls in your belly, tightening and tightening until you have to believe you’ve driven yourself mad. 

“Daddy,” you whine for him. Your free hand flies back to your thighs, rubbing at your clit until your lungs catch on fire. “Make me come,” you plea. “I need you. I need—” You press into your bud, groaning at the rush of ecstasy. 

Matty laughs and the mean sound only drives you further into lust. You grip the sheets, trying to catch on fire. “Thought you were gonna shag me,” he mocks. “Thought you were gonna get off all on your own.” He tsks, bucking into you wildly, sounding out of breath as he adds, “But you need Daddy to make you come, don’t you?” 

You shake your head, as if the evidence wasn’t dripping all over his cock, spilling from your lips in incoherent slurs. “No?” He says, again just as merciless in his taunting. He halts inside of you and you cry, shaking your head. “Do it, then,” he laughs. 

He raises his hands up your waist, dancing on the ribs. He gropes your tits, circling the nipples. It becomes apparent to you that he’s not joking. You pout, finding your balance again and rising to your knees, falling back with thunderous force. Your legs shake; you’re exhausted and sore, whiny as you obey him. 

“That’s it, princess,” he praises. It’s enough to spark some motivation. You furrow your eyebrows, bouncing on his cock, puffing breaths falling from your lips. Sweat pearls on your forehead, but you continue, undeterred. “God, you’re so fucking filthy.”

You mewl, redoubling efforts. You find something close to those quick, harsh thrusts Matty was giving, just slightly poorer. You fuck mindlessly, not bothering to rub your clit on his pelvis or find that delicious spot inside of you. Pleasure fills your mind anyway. 

“Doing so well,” he moans. His fingers play with your nipples; your head pulls back, crying out. “Use my cock. Ride it ‘till you come all over it.” You whine, nodding fervently. “Need to feel you again,” he pants. “Need to feel that cunt as it fucking squeezes me.” 

Ecstasy swarms through you. You moan, digging your claws into your sheets. You squeeze around him, over and over, a clear-tell warning. His name and a string of curses come out of your lips broken. He pinches your nipple. 

“I’m gonna—”

“Ask,” he groans, a choking sound that rips out of him. 

“Can I—” Your body trembles, the taste of climax spreading under your skin. You scrunch your face. “Daddy, please, can I—” You finish it with a moan, losing your train of thought.

“Use your big girl words,” he taunts, climbing one hand up. Your breath catches as he nears your neck; a swirling hit of excitement so true it makes you lightheaded. Still, he doesn’t linger, instead cupping your jaw and sticking his thumb in your mouth. 

Your hips are artless and loose, sliding and rolling and thrusting without any reason. It’s wild, brutal strokes that have you drooling around his finger. 

“C’mon, princess. I wanna hear you.”

He doesn’t slip his thumb out. You speak around his digit, drooling and slurring, incoherent. “Pleashe, pleashe, pleashe, Daddy, let me come. I want to come. I’ve been so good, I’ve— fuck, I’ve needed it for so long. Just—” You cry, shaking your head. “You’re so fucking deep in me.”

You take his hand away from your jaw, feeling spit drip down your chin as you spread it over your belly instead. “Fucking love you inside of me. Where you belong,” you moan. 

“Fuck, yeah.” He pushes on your stomach, making you feel his cock sliding into you. Your mind rolls inside your skull, drunk. “Made for this cunt.”

“Made to make me come.” He nods again eagerly. Your hips stutter, exhausted. “Please, then,” you say, hopeful. “Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplea—”

“Come for me, princess.”

“Ah—” You convulse, dropping on his chest, a scream drowning in his shoulder as your climax hits you in one drowning wave. Ecstasy sparks under your skill, overwhelming. 

Matty holds you in place with one soothing hand on your spine. Ruthlessly, he continues to fuck up into you, riding the end of your mindnumbing orgasm. “Fuck, I got you. Ride it out, princess. Ride it out on my cock. That’s it— Shit, I can fucking feel you.” 

Your fingertips buzz pleasantly, and there’s the distant shape of his words in your ear. You grin, loose and happy, heart filling up with his name. “D’you feel good?” He asks, kissing your cheek. You nod, humming. “Yeah? Came so hard for me?”

“Yeah.” You moan, his cock still thrusting inside of you slowly, waking you up again. Your legs shake. You tilt your hips slowly, ever so slightly rolling them. Matty grins against your cheek, kissing it again and again. 

He caresses your back, soothing away all those leftover shivers. “So fucking pretty when you come,” he promises. “The best girl. My best girl.” He grips your back, choking out, “Can you turn around for me?” 

You whine, tired, but still straighten up on his lap. You hoist up with great efforts, turning around with shaky knees. He coos some congratulations, hooking an arm around your belly and laying you back up on his chest. You practically melt on it, back against his stomach, head tucked in the crook of his neck. Each thigh hangs from his knees and he spreads you wide open for him again. 

“Don’t have to do anything, baby,” he breathes out, snaking a hand down your body to grab his still hard cock. “Let Daddy take care of you.” You groan, nodding in agreement. He likes himself up with your dripping entrance, then slides into you. 

He allows you a single slow thrust to get used to the stretch again, then wastes no time mercilessly ramming inside of you. You grip the arm around your waist, digging your nails into his tattoos, barely holding on from the brutal pace between your thighs. You mumble a strange mix of his name and the word Daddy, blurring out of you with all those pathetic sounds you shamelessly let out. 

You can tell he’s close too, chasing his pleasure with abandon, practically using you to get off. The knowledge makes burning heat spread through your lower belly. You throb around him, wanting him to come, to fill you up. Wanting him to feel as good as he makes you. 

Matty smirks against your cheek. “Oh, are you gonna come again?” His hips snap quickly, taunting. You stutter a response, biting down a scream. “What’s that? Can’t hear you when you mumble.”

“Shit,” is all you manage to say, already feeling pleasure grow inside of you again. He’s delighted to find this, grabbing a pebbled breast and playing with it. “I— Fucking, I’m—”

He hums, licking your neck. “Does Daddy’s cock make you forget how to speak?” You tremble in his arms, hot shame filling up your mind, a strange, sinful heat that has you yelling out absurdities. Matty’s relentless between your thighs, knowing exactly how to prove his point. 

His knees fall further on the bed, spreading your thighs wide open for him. He snakes a hand to your clit, rubbing at it with his palm. You jump in his arms, shaking your head. “Can’t—” It’s too much, too soon. You feel the edges of you unspool, unwind. 

“Can’t what?” He teases, merciless. “Can’t think? It’s okay, baby. Just lay there and take it. I’ll do the rest.” 

You practically buzz, incapable of taking in the pleasure that he’s already fucking and rubbing some more out of you. You choke, giving him some empty pleas, unsure of what exactly you’re even asking for.

“My dumb little slut,” he coos, kissing your cheek. “Fucked all stupid, as she should be.”

He dips his head in your neck, nipping and licking at the skin, peppering it with sweet love. It drowns your mind, makes it sticky and happy. You claw at his arm, desperate. 

Matty’s legs shake under you. You know he’s growing tired too, ready to burst anytime. The knowledge pokes at your mind, hot and eager. You grind on his palm. 

“Come in me,” you beg. You’ve completely relinquished the control of your tongue. “I’m on the pill now. Please.” Matty twitches inside of you. 

“Fuck,” he groans in your neck, choked. “That right? Got on the pill specifically for me?”

You did, searching up doctors and prescriptions, belly humming with the idea of him not pulling out this time. “Yes.”

His hand leaves your breast, climbing up to your neck. You throb around him, reveling in his presence around your throat, the silent mark that he owns you. “Needed me to fill you up that fucking bad? To have my cum dripping out of you.” 

“Yes,” you scream, wrinkling your face. 

“Gonna come for me first, though, right? Be my good little girl and come.” Though the words trigger something in you, you shake your head stubbornly. You’re almost afraid of letting go, as though the building euphoria inside of you could crush you to death, could blow your skin off your bones. It’s safer here, just on the edge of the fatal. 

His cock slams into you and his hand presses into your clit, driving you wilder and wilder. You choke a scream, feeling your limbs tighten in apprehension. You’re there, just there, and still you refuse. 

All the sensations are too much. You call his name, the only word you seem to know. Pressure presses against your skin, threatening to burst. You feel yourself begin to cry. 

Matty shushes you soothingly. “Oh, princess,” he says, kissing away your tears. “Shhh. It’s okay. I’m right there. I’ll catch you.” 

You pout, shaking your head, sobbing from pleasure. It’s a useless fight; Matty presses into the sides of your throat and suddenly the world catches on fire. You’re flying into orbit, imploding with ecstasy, screaming his name and all the curse words you know in worship. 

“Did so well,” Matty screams. “Fuck. Look at you coming all over my cock. What a good girl.” He releases your neck just when you come down from your high, shooting you up in another rush of pleasure. You moan, melting on him. “Gonna fill you up, now,” he warns. His words sound desperate, stretched thin. “Gonna come so deep inside of you, you’ll feel me for days. D’you want that?” 

“Yes!” 

His hips stutter. He twitches inside of you. “Say it— Shit.”

“Fill me up, Daddy!” 

“Ah, fucking hell—” He comes inside of you with a cry of your name, shaking under you. He groans, shaking, washed with pleasure. He continues fucking into you mindlessly, slower and slower, until he’s stopped, panting. His hold on you is murderous; it’s like he’s afraid you’ll slip away from him in his most vulnerable state. 

You watch him, observe his solemn face as he lingers in ecstasy, eyes shut and smile wide. Your chest warms, a grin teasing your own lips. Sweat and tears and drool dries on your face.

Matty softens inside of you. His cock slips out, cum spilling out of you. You moan at the feeling, getting on your elbows to watch the spectacle. Still laying down and catching his breath, Matty plunges two fingers inside of you, pushing his cum back in your cunt just so you can watch it fall again. You shiver, falling back on him with a sigh. 

“God,” he says. “I’m too old to fuck in twin beds.” You laugh in surprise and he snickers with you, his chest drumming against you. “You’re rich. Why don’t you have a king sized bed and feather pillows or some shit?” 

“I’m sensible,” you say, sticking your tongue out. You roll to your belly beside him, finally letting him take a full breath. He stretches on your mattress, taking up almost all the space. It’s a little ridiculous, this man in your childhood bed. 

You smirk, traveling down his chest and stopping near his soft cock. You lick the length, sucking him into your mouth to clean the mix of your wetness and his cum. He jumps, sitting up to push you anyway. “Fucking— Do you want to kill me?”

You laugh, falling back on the pillows, cheeky. “See? Not so easy.” 

“Well, you’re young and healthy. I expect more of you.” Matty opens his arm, inviting you to tuck your head in his shoulder. Your arm drapes over his chest, halfway across his tattoo. “When’s your dad gonna be back?” He yawns.

“I don’t know,” you admit. It’s always up in the air; often, you don’t know he even came back until you wake up to the strong smell of Ethiopian coffee and the ghost of him in the flat. You shrug, “You could always sneak out if he’s there in the morning.”

Matty rubs his face. “Ugh, I feel like a teenager.” 

You rest your chin on his shoulder, teasing, “Shouldn’t fuck such a young, innocent girl, then.”

He arches an eyebrow. “Innocent? You’ve seen the things you’ve done on my dick?”

“Shut up.” Quieter, you mumble, “I don’t think Mr. Snuffles’s ever gonna be able to unhear tonight.” His laughs rocks you, resonating against you. You grin on his skin. 

You nuzzle further into his warmth, exhaustion settling in your bones. His arm warms your waist, pulling you further into him. You know you need to clean yourself up soon, but you allow yourself a short moment to relish the shape of him. 

He tugs you out of sleep by piping up, voice sticky-tired, “If you want, I know the best fucking scallop place in town. We could go tomorrow.”

Halfway asleep, you say, “I’d like that.”

#this is. the Nastiest filthiest thing i’ve written #i may have gone overboard #but hey happy linecook resurrection! #linecook!au #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fic #matty healy x reader #matty healy smut #smut #writing #matty healy imagine #the 1975 smut #the 1975 fic

[pumpkinbxtch]

:D omg, you are going to make me addicted to apolo, the man cries out to be loved, a request for the favor of our dear apolo (in devinart there was a farm where the reader dated leo but he cheated on her with calypso, then the He realizes that he made the worst mistake of his life, seeing that because of calypso he was attracted but he loved the reader)How does Leo react when he discovers that his ex-girlfriend, whom he still loves, is now Apollo's partner(fiancee) pleeeees

i'm a loser.・゜-: ✧ :-

leo valdez x fem!reader x apollo

summary: Leo realizes that he messed it up a little... well no, he totally screwed up. And now he's going for you, he's going to tell you that he loves you, that you should be together for the rest of your lifes oooh, wait. Are you married with Apollo? THE GOD APOLLO? warnings: THIS IS SO LONG, HAHA but another one? mmm nope, i don't think so. a/n: yeaaaah, the concept you gave me is so hilarious, i love it. Leo is literally my boyfriend but making him suffer makes me laugh, it's like YES DAMN CRY FOR ME, but whatever. i was even inspired by that song by my beloved Beatles. i hope you like it.

w/c: 2.617 (the longest I've done so far, followed by "lovelorn")

Apollo wanted to laugh, he really wanted to, but he had learned not to make fun of other people's shit, but damn, could you blame him? He definitely never thought that Leo Valdez was an opponent for him, don't get him wrong, he was saying it because he likes him. (really) and helped him during his mission, but there, standing from his palace on Olympus, he could see everything, including if someone was threatening against you, his wife.

Flames rose as Leo threw the map into the air in fury, totally frustrated in Festus. He couldn't find you, in fact, Apollo kept wondering how he was tracking you, but he didn't seem to want to answer that question. No, or he would end his patience, yes, he had appreciation for the Son of Hephaestus, but when they messed with you, he would lose his mind immediately, or worse, try to get into their relationship? He would be in charge of throwing Leo from the Mount Olympus.

Of course, he wasn't afraid, much less jealous, but he knew what the relationship with Leo had meant to you. You were totally in love, even Apollo knows that you would have married him if only Leo hadn't screwed things up, and boy did he do it big.

He mean, cheating on you with the now ex-sorceress Calypso? Oh, man. Who the fuck would cheat on you? Hmm, yes, Leo Valdez.

The main doors of the palace opened and Apollo dissolved the image. Some murmurs were heard, followed by footsteps heading towards the main throne room, it was definitely you.

— Apollo?—  He heard the doors opening, and he stood in front of the fire, he didn't want to lie to you, but he couldn't interfere either, he knew that would make you upset. The footsteps approached and he felt you take his arm. — Apollo!— 

He looked at you and feigned surprise. He raised both hands in welcome and cradled your face with them before giving you a chaste kiss on the lips. — My beautiful wife.

You closed your eyes when his lips touched yours, and you smiled tenderly.

— Dear husband — You said in a soft mocking tone. You used to do it when Apollo couldn't help but sound so… posh. But to tell the truth, he filled you with joy.

He ran his fingers over your forehead, removing some baby hairs, and made a golden wreath of laurels appear on the crown of your head. He always spent his time adorning you and making you feel loved, you loved him.

Then, Apollo forced himself to blow out the bubble.

— Do you want something, dear?

— I know we're on… — your cheeks turned pink — the honeymoon, but I need to go to Camp Jupiter.

Your pleading eyes, damn, not even Zeus would dare say no to you. Then, he realized what was happening. Apollo tried to hide the realization from himself, but that name began to swirl in his mind; The Fates. Those antiques would hear about him.

—The honeymoon is an old concept, with traditions that we really don't take so… literally anymore —Apollo said as he gently ran his fingers over your blushing cheeks. —So, you know you can come and go whenever you want. I'm not like my uncle Hades.

The blonde giggled, and you poked his arm, making him jump.

— Apollo!

— My love!

You looked at him with a frown, and he smiled even more, trying to push aside all those thoughts where you could get hurt.

It was a fact, you were going to meet Leo at Camp Jupiter, and he wouldn't be able to do anything.

He caressed your face once more and turned, walking to the large window of the great room.

You felt bad leaving him alone, you didn't want to leave him like that, but you were in the last semesters of your degree. Yes, you were on vacation, but you had to leave some paperwork behind.

— I won't take a second.

Apollo let out a short laugh, full of knowledge. He knew it would take you at least a day and a half to get back to him. He turned to you and walked slowly.

—Just come back to me, dear.

Your eyes shone, and you walked the distance he needed to close the distance between you. You took his hands and kissed his knuckles.

— Always.

He turned his hands so that he was the one holding yours now and made a wedding ring appear on your ring finger. When you looked at the diamond, you raised your eyebrow and your look became amused.

—Do you mark your territory?

Apollo smiled and kissed your forehead.

— In case some fool hasn't heard the great news that I am your husband.

The fool was Leo, yes. Apollo said it for him, if not, for who else?

Your husband had done you a favor and made you appear right at the entrance to Camp Jupiter, advantages of a god making you his wife. When the campers guarding the doors saw you, they immediately opened it for you.

You excused yourself and made your way towards New Rome, in fact, you hesitated whether to go there first or go say hello or… If you would meet them anyway near the university.

You walked to the limit.

You loved New Rome, it was definitely home to you, at least when you had to stay on campus during the semester. But to live the rest of your life there would also have been pleasant, although Mount Olympus wasn't bad.

You made your way and some looked at you. So, you quickened your pace, you didn't like to attract a lot of attention like that.

You moved quickly towards the university and found the campus. Blessed be the gods.

You clutched the papers to your chest and walked.

— HEY!

You turned around slowly, not really wanting any questions. But you turned completely around when you saw Frank holding hands with Hazel, trying to reach you.

— GUYS!

They both caught up to you and smiled hungrily. They wanted to hug you, but they backed out at the last moment, which made you frown.

— What was that?

Frank started babbling and Hazel laughed nervously.

—Can we hug you?

You laughed and threw yourself at both of them, so you hugged at the same time. — You fools, I'm the same as always. Just how married and that's it.

Frank denied. — WITH APOLLO

Hazel punched him in the belly, making him double over. The three of you laughed, and then she looked at you nervously.

—Have you seen anyone else? —She asked. You denied.

— I figured Percy and Annabeth would be in New York for the holidays. Nico and Will, Camp Half-Blood, Jason finishing his accounting for the new altars. Piper, in Oklahoma… — You made loops with your hand and thought if you had forgotten someone.

Hazel looked at Frank, and he encouraged her to say whatever had them both acting that way.

Hazel sighed.

—Leo arrived in the morning.

Your expression did not change at all, a reaction that your friends had not expected.

— AND?

Frank scratched the back of his neck nervously. — He is actually searching for you.

Then your eyebrows raised, showing your confusion.

— what? — You snorted. You looked for any sign that it was a joke, but there was none. — So? Do I owe him money?

Hazel laughed nervously and shook her head.

— I think he's looking for you because he wants to fix things with you.

— He's desperate —  Frank agreed.

You laughed sarcastically.

—But he knows that I'm already married, right?

— Apparently… no one told him.

— What? — You asked again, raising your voice a little more. Both exchanged nervous glances. You mean, how far is Indianapolis? — Wait, he was with Calypso, he literally cheated on me with her because he said she was the love of his life.

The two of them raised their shoulders and you scoffed.

—Anyway, I'll leave these documents and go off to enjoy what's left of the vacation. Apollo waits for me. Will you accompany me?

Damn, the three of you were about to enter when you heard someone call your name, then Hazel's and finally Frank's, he was definitely the one who turned around, consequently forcing you and Hazel to do the same.

What your eyes saw were priceless. It was Leo running across campus with half his shirt burned and a desperate expression. Your heart raced, and your feet wanted to run away, instead, you stayed still and speechless.

—You are seeing the same thing, right?

Your friends nodded.

—He wasn't like this when we last saw him— Hazel said, forcing a smile and shaking her hand at Leo.

Leo had stopped at Camp Jupiter for supplies, also to check that you weren't there, and you definitely weren't there when he arrived, but rumors spread fast. You wondered if your ex-boyfriend had heard about why everyone was whispering about your arrival, but it seemed like not, or at least he seemed to ignore it.

And so it was.

Fate, the planets, and the stars aligned to ensure that Leo was ignorant about it, so that you would be the one to deal the final blow.

Things with Calypso didn't work out, why? Leo couldn't get you off his mind. Oh, what had he done? He literally cried like a baby when he realized he still loved you. He loved you, you loved him, so as always, he had to screw up.

Leo ran harder; He was taller, a little stockier, and his curls were fluffier than ever. Everything you used to worship was probably just a shadow of its former self. You weren't saying that he was bad, but you definitely no longer felt anything for him, although you couldn't help but feel a tug in your tummy full of melancholy, pain, and anger.

You had already forgiven him, but his recklessness made you want to kill him.

With little breath, Leo crouched down in front of you, grabbing his knees and looking for air.

You took a step back, your face dripping with confusion.

Hazel and Frank looked at him disapprovingly.

—I've been looking for you—he finally said.

— That's what I heard.

Leo stood up and wanted to hug you. To your surprise, you didn't stop him. You missed your friend Leo Valdez. Not your cheating ex-boyfriend, Leo Valdez.

Frank and Hazel screamed and became nervous.

—I've missed you.— He said, breathing softly, taking in pinches of your scent.

Your heart clenched and you forced yourself to smile.

—Me too, Leo.

That gave him courage. He broke the hug and gently took you by the arms.

— I was wrong… — His brown eyes projected remorse and sorrow. — I was seriously wrong, I shouldn't have…

The son of Hephaestus took a deep breath.

— I betrayed your trust. I put your love aside to think that my place was with someone else, but what a jerk… My place has always been with you. You are the one I love the most. Please forgive me …

Those words, as you would have liked to hear them so long ago, but now they were slipping over you, completely meaningless.

—Leo…

— Please! Give me another chance.

His plea resonated, drawing the attention of some residents. They took it as just a student love situation until they saw you. Oh shit, weren't you the wife of the great Apollo?

— Leo, you see… No. We can't have another chance.

Leo's heart beat so fast that he felt like it would jump out of his heart. He held you a little tighter and leaned down.

He was going to kiss you.

— No! — Hazel gasped and Frank hid behind her.

People around the campus seemed on the edge of their seats, they even plead the gods for Apollo didn't appear out of nowhere and incinerate them all. The god was definitely struggling to control his breathing from the palace. Where did his Yoga classes go? Someone meditate with him, please! He wanted to hang Leo.

You put a hand on Leo's lips, and he felt something cold. You slowly pushed him away with a frown on your face.

— I said no.

You turned your hand and revealed the glow of the diamond to his view. The Sun made it look ethereal because, well, it was.

Leo's soul fell at his feet, and he shook his head in confusion.

—I don't… I don't understand.

— I'm married, Leo. I married someone. Did you think I would be heartbroken since you 

cheated on me with Calypso? That I will wait for you? — You snorted and pushed him gently.

— But with who?! Who the fuck-

You put your hand over his mouth again and shook your head.

—Don't do that.— You sighed brokenly and tried to do it delicately. If you named Apollo, everything could go to Tartarus. —He considers you for helping him during his mission as a mortal.

The gossipers laughed, some adults denied indignantly, and their friends, shit, Frank was almost having a heart attack fearing that Apollo would burn Leo to ashes.

—Apollo? —He said, with even greater confusion.

The god was still clinging to the edge of his throne, expectant.

You looked above and came to the conclusion that he was giving your ex-boyfriend a break. That action fell like a bucket of cold water on the son of Hephaestus.

He walked away from you.

— what?

You turned your gaze and caressed his cheek kindly. — I don't hold a grudge against you, Leo. I loved you so much. But I found someone who did not doubt his love for me and without thinking wanted to grow with me.

The boy shook his head and stumbled as he relented, leaving your hands suspended in the air. A gust of sweet air embraced them in that silent moment.

He let you go and thought he might have you back.

You were his friend, his confidant, and the love of his life, yet he let you go.

He disguised his doubts with bad jokes, dishonest touches, and lies.

How could he have been so stupid?

Haha, there goes the idiot that lost the love of his life to a god.

How could a love like the one you used to possess lose?

Look at me, then, Leo said to himself.

You returned with Apollo and your nerves were overwhelming you. This time you felt so distant to the palace, as if you were not worthy to enter. Still, they received you and welcomed you.

— is in his room.

You thanked and headed to the bedroom. Taking care not to be noisy and watch your steps. 

Being at the foot of the entrance, the door opened and revealed your husband. Smiling?

Apollo opened the door and pulled you into the room. You couldn't help but laugh.

Your clothing magically changed upon entering, your modern clothes replaced by a white robe edged with gold. Your hair now adorned with laurels and golden jewels.

The jingle of jewelry amidst your loved one's laughter seemed like the most exquisite sound to you. He held you in his arms and hid her face in the crook of your neck. 

You stroked his fluffy blonde curls.

— Welcome.

He said, bumping his forehead against yours.

—  Did you miss me?—  You said with humor. Apollo kissed your lips, instantly making you feel disoriented. He traced your cheek, your chin, and your neck. Kissed you behind your ear and hummed.

— I know I told you it would be fine if you went, but gods, how I missed you. Don't leave me the rest of your holidays.

You nodded.

That was your home.

#maría's shared dreams☆｡ﾟ✧ #pjo hoo toa #leo valdez #leo valdez x you #heroes of olympus #leo valdez x reader #leo valdez x y/n #lester papadopoulos #lester papadopoulos x you #apollo x you #apollo x reader #trials of apollo

[showtoonzfan]

Now I want to talk about Charlie cause good GOD. I never cared much for her in the pilot, I’ll admit that. I always called her boring compared to the other characters because of how developed they were compared to her. However the show takes everything that the pilot build up for her and just made her 10x worse to the point where she’s INSUFFERABLE to watch.

When I got to the very end of the season, I realized that she barley did anything progressive or had an impact on any character, at least what we’ve seen on screen. I understand this was the first season, but what exactly was her arc and what exactly did she do? Nothing. Throughout the season she wasn’t a leader, the most she did was help Sir pen with lessons and have that fight at the heaven trial. In the end they try to act like she overcame some arc about learning to lead and take charge but…she didn’t really. She was helped constantly by people around her, mainly Vaggie/Alastor/Rosie and she never really did anything on her own that was enough to signify her independence as the MAIN character or even the princess of hell. I love how she needed to be TOLD that her girlfriend cared for her…like wow. Vaggie also states that she’s “done so much and touched so many souls”- and all I could think about is how I actually wish we saw that on screen. Husk said she “wants to fix everyone’s problems but her own” and I never got that vibe out of her??? If she was more like Luz from the Owl house where we constantly saw her avoid her own emotions and problems and focus more on helping other people, then it would make sense but guess what, we don’t see any of that because the show is so disinterested in ACTUALLY focusing on Charlie shining at the front and helping people. They scrapped the main premise of her wanting to help sinners and instead used up all the time they had to introduce new characters. It’s all tell and no show as expected.

She’s painted as someone who’s desperate to save her people but when she’s not the focus and actually helping someone, she’s a whiny frustrating crybaby who needs to be coddled or steered in the right direction, and it’s SO hard to watch how her character is treated like a child who can’t do anything. This character has existed for 200+ years canonically but she isn’t written like that. She’s dumb. The fact that she’s such a doormat that she can’t even realize Angel is being abused by Val or even DO ANYTHING about it is fucking baffling, she’s THAT useless. There were so many moments in the show where she could have used her authority or powers to save trouble, but she just doesn’t do it because she’s useless, and I’m tired of people trying to say she’s a pacifist to excuse the shitty writing. She’s also basically Viv’s self insert in a way, an unfunny woman child who’s a hypocrite. Like Charlie is the equivalent of dry white chicken. There’s no seasoning or flavor to her character, she’s SO bland and boring that Lucifer and Alastor end up being more important than her and having more screen time, she’s ATTACHED to them and it really shows, rather than her being at the front. And I know we’re on season 1, but you’d think that Charlie’s childishness would actually be a character flaw and something she needs to overcome and grow up about. But this isn’t really seen as an issue and more of a quirky thing cause Viv thinks being a woman child is funny, the “fuck you you old bitch” scene made me cringe so god damn hard. Everyone has already said it, but Charlie cursing so so forced and unnatural for her character. I don’t like how she’s supposed to be a cinnamon roll but then at the same time swears and acts feral at times. It doesn’t fit.

During the fight scene in the end, she also does absolutely nothing. She made a whole deal about how she wants to defend her people and get back at the angel’s, but aside from throwing Adam and hitting him once, she needed to be protected or saved, Lucifer ended up actually doing the work and it was so hilarious. Speaking of that, Charlie’s daddy issues arc was also rushed, her and Lucifer reuniting and then making up within the same episode was a mistake. Then you realize that her daddy issues was mainly all Charlie had to her in terms of depth and what was explored in the show. I’m so tired of Viv giving her characters daddy issues, it’s getting old lol. But regardless of what Charlie has to her, in general the show just doesn’t focus on her. She’s not the main focal point of the show when she should be. SHE’S the one who wants to redeem sinners, the hotel was her idea. Even tho the pilot was a mess I still felt like she was determined to take the lead due to her beliefs. And yet she still feels like a side/background character who only occasionally gets focus here and there but certainly not compared to the others. The potential is there but due to the favoritism of the writing she’s such an empty and boring character and stayed like that till the very end.

#vivziepop critical #spindlehorse critical #hazbin hotel critical #anti vivziepop #Hazbin hotel #Hazbin hotel Charlie

[mins-fins]

orbit of yours !

"power couple, really?" "you have to listen to me!"

synopsis: park jisung has always admired you. hardworking, effortlessly beautiful, talented, humble— you're pretty much the personification of the word 'perfect' (you would disagree though), but your relationship has never gotten past "admirers that occasionally exchange words", so jisung has vanquished the idea of possibly being in love with you because of your lack of interactions, he's just an avid admirer of yours! so when a few accidents and mishaps force (more like drive) the two of you to be in the same room more than you ever had in the past, the idea doesn't just remain a random fantasy crafted by jisung's mind, it becomes reality.

pairing: park jisung x male!reader

genre: high school au, acquaintances to friends to lovers, photographer!reader x soccer player!jisung, fluff, kinda comedy (im not funny), mutual pining, literally no angst, fast burn lowkey, sungchan helps reader realize his feelings and it's hilarious

warnings: swearing, mentions of burnout, oblivious bitches deny their feelings for a good 10k words, this is fucking cheesy, the nightmare which is senior year

word count: 12.2k

notes: GOOD LORD IT IS FINALLY DONE! i don't wanna be overdramatic or anything but this is genuinely one of my most favorite works ever, if you couldn't tell i am VERY jisung biased and im so happy to finally be done with this because it's honestly been so fun to write 🙁 i didn't beat the xiaojun fic in terms of words but this the second longest fic i have ever written and for my jisung debut its impressive that there is absolutely NO ANGST here, i'm just very proud of myself for this and i hope people like reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it.. this is for all the park jisung lovers 👍

"WHEN WILL YOU ACTUALLY GET A PARTNER?" chenle asks the question so many times that jisung assumes the sentence has been programmed into his brain. what is it— like the 3rd time this week? he thinks chenle might be more obsessed with his love life than he is with actual important things, like college, graduation preparations, his role as a member of the student council, anything but jisung's uneventful love life, because that was probably the least interesting thing going on in his own life at the moment. "come on jisungie! i heard aejung has a crush on you!" he lets out a familiar groan, giving his friends a 'cut it out' look. "i don't really care about that kind of stuff.."

he hears all the frustrated sighs from his friends, and jisung just chuckles. he knows about the many surprisingly many— people who find themselves attracted to him. he acknowledges the fact that he has a lot of admirers, that a lot of people would perceive themselves as lucky to be in a relationship with him, he isn't new to the idea at all, he doesn't really get what makes him so attractive, such an eyeopener to his fellow students, but he mostly accepts the gifts given to him by his so called "admirers" nonetheless, not wanting to make them disappointed.

now, he says mostly because there are just times where he has no choice but to turn them down. some people get into their own heads too much, and he doesn't want to give some of them false hopes by accepting their gifts. that happened once, where a girl thought the two of them were dating because he decided to accept her gift as a sign of appreciation, that's when jisung learned that he couldn't just accept any and all gifts given to him by admirers who so greatly wanted a chance with him. jisung isn't so concerned about gifts, he wants a person who will be psychically and emotionally present for him, not someone who'll just buy him random things.

"it's gotten a little annoying.. all the confessions" jisung mutters, closing the textbook he had been jotting in. "they're nice yeah but some people just take it too far" he finally finishes, earning some confused looks from his friends. he just shrugs, shoving the textbook he had previously been jotting in into his backpack.

"but you're just so boring!" chenle whines, pressing his cheek against jisung's shoulder. jisung doesn't even try shaking him off, knowing that any of his attempts will be useless. "come on! all these people who would love to be with you and your still a lonely little loser!"

"loser? oh come on!"

"you know i'm right!"

jisung scoffs, lightly shoving chenle. while yeah, it's nice to have a lot of people admire him, everyone expects him to do this and that and act a certain way. it's like they enjoy perpetuating a false image onto him rather than actually admiring him for who he really is, and jisung doesn't think he should give people like that the time of day, they piss him off more than anything.

he's a little lost in his thought when a familiar voice sounds in his ears, a couple of giggles following the sound. "you're too funny y/n!" one of them shouted, poking a familiar figure in the shoulder, and jisung's eyes fall on you immediately, as if on instinct. you were looking as you always did, a familiar dslr camera hanging from your neck, that polite smile on your face as your friend continues poking your shoulder.

lately, you'd been quite the topic of interest among your fellow schoolmates. now that's not abnormal at all, you somehow always manage to be the talk of the town in school, you could do the smallest thing and somehow people could still make huge talk about it.

jisung would never say it, not out loud or even in mutters to himself, but he's always held a unique admiration for you, one he doesn't think he could actually put into words. there's something about you that pulls jisung in, like your a magnet and he's an oblivious piece of metal, slowly getting closer and closer to you without being able to do anything about it.

everything about you is beautiful. your eyes are a beautiful brown color, your smile is a beautiful stretch that shows off your perfect white teeth, your hair is a beautiful mix of raven and brunette. oh, and your voice is so beautiful too, it's so soft, gentle, but also deep.

you're like an angel.

at least to jisung you are.

it's pretty funny, actually, your so wrapped up in your own things that you barely notice the sheer amount of people who want to date you. you don't acknowledge romantic advances a lot, and even when you do, it always ends in rejection. you talk a lot, and your words are always pure and witty, your laughter is natural, your smile is contagious.

but.. jisung doesn't like you. he only likes you in the friend kinda way, he just wants to be friends with you. you look nice! smell nice, dress nice, speak nice..

jisung knows a lot more about you than his friends do. despite the fact that the two of you have never officially deemed yourselves "friends", he's always known little facts about you, as you him. the two of you have been going to school together for seven years, so the idea of not knowing anything about each other seems ridiculous.

you're a photographer, your favorite color is blue, specifically lighter shades, your favorite subject is history, your lucky number is 2 because of your birthdate being 02/02/02, your favorite flowers are daisies, you don't really enjoy sports, but if you were to choose one to play, it'd be baseball, and you want to go to college for journalism.

but jisung can't say that he likes you, because even if you two know all these things about each other, you've never considered yourselves "friends", all you do is admire from afar—

and when you do interact, it's just short and sweet sentences exchanged between you two, mostly because the both of you are so busy, that you can't afford to just stop and talk. sometimes, jisung wishes his life was just a little less hectic and he could stop and talk to you, because that's what he wants to do.

"what's with you?" jisung immediately yelps as chenle flicks his forehead, and he resists the urge to punch the older in the face. "gawking at y/n? really?"

"i'm not—" jisung hates that he feels his face burn. "i'm not gawking, i'm just.. i was just looking at him".

"looking at him with hearts in your eyes".

jisung scoffs at chenle's audacity, as if he wasn't doing exactly that a good few minutes ago. he would never admit it out loud before, so why should he admit it now? he'd never live it down if anybody ever found out..

"you know.." chenle begins, tapping his finger onto the desk in front of him. "you two would be a great couple" and the words are enough to make jisung roll his eyes once again. "a power couple!"

"power couple, really?" jisung raises an eyebrow, chenle never fails to say something that confuses him. he finds the words to be ridiculous, but his reaction just seems to make chenle even more giddy, because he continues;

"you have to listen to me!" chenle persists, and jisung is about to check out of the conversation completely.

"y/n is a photographer for sports journalism, you play soccer, you've known each for what.. ever? he's pretty, you clearly have the hots for him—"

"i do not!" jisung immediately yells in rebuttal, much louder than he wanted to. "yeah he's.. cute but anyone with eyes can see that, i'm not in love with him or anything".

chenle raises an eyebrow, suspicious, but jisung remains stubborn, crossing his arms as he averts his gaze from his best friend.

yes, you are cute, anybody with two functioning eyes can see that.

"i think park jisung might have a crush on you".

at the words, you look up from your camera, meeting eyes with your close friend, sungchan. you blink, as if dumbfounded, then snicker. "park jisung? are you trying to boost my ego or something?"

you know park jisung, you know about how probably half the students in this room dream of having a chance with him. so many people like park jisung, so many people want park jisung.

and if you think about it, you can't exactly blame them for that..

"don't laugh! i'm serious! he looked like he was about to devour you, did you see his eyes!?"

the words just get another laugh out of you, the words seem ridiculous in your eyes, because why would park jisung, beautiful, talented, striking park jisung have a crush on you? in your eyes, your pretty much nothing to him.

"okay.. why would park jisung ever be interested in me?" you ask, rearranging your camera as you raise an eyebrow at sungchan, who simply deadpans at you, that familiar 'are you serious?' look in his eyes.

"okay let me see, your smart, pretty, everyone likes you at this point, also— the two of you are pretty much perfect for each other! you'd be a power couple!"

you furrow your eyebrows, a power couple? you'd never heard that phrase used to talk about somebody your friends had been "shipping" you with, your not even sure if you can even consider yourself friends with jisung, because the two of you can never actually talk to each other without someone coming up and interrupting the interaction.

you'd love to just be able to talk to park jisung, just the two of you, one on one.

"power couple? that's funny.."

"you think everything is funny" ironically, you laugh at your friends words. "this could be like— your only chance at having an actual romantic connection with someone".

"i don't care that much about romance, chan" you muse, humming as you turn off your camera. your eyes wander over to jisung, who is very much distracted by something stupid chenle is saying, he's laughing about something, laughing hard too.

there is no reason for him to look so pretty as he laughs like a maniac..

he's cute, you say in your mind, he is absolutely adorable.

"WHAT DID YOU GUYS GET ON THAT STATISTICS TEST FOR SONG?" a boy from the same year and member of the soccer team along with jisung inquired. they sat on the bleachers in front of field, watching as the baton club practices. they have to practice this week, unfortunately, so jisung's schedule had become tight and packed, he barely had any free time these days, it was all exams, college tours, last minute extracurriculars, and practice, practice, practice. "i got a b plus" one of his classmates responds, the other responded; "i got a b on mine". jisung was very far removed from the current conversation, his eyes on a familiar trio of sports journalists on the other side of the field, a trio which included you, mesmerizing you. he sees you often these days, with that same dslr camera around your neck, a pretty smile stuck on your face.

"you, jisung! what score did you get?" one of his classmates asks, but jisung was occupied, so he didn't answer. a tap on his shoulder makes jisung snap out of his staring fit, and he blinks a few times, assessing where he is. "what?"

"we were asking about the marks on the recent statistics test!"

"ah" jisung presses his lips together. "i got an a plus" he says the words casually, but it causes for a cheer to be sounded by his fellow classmates, who shook him and slapped his back supportively.

"you're so smart jisungie!"

the praise from his classmates get a smile out of jisung, but he isn't focusing on that, his attention is on you. even with how your across the field, he can clearly see all of your features, the sun shining on your face makes you look majestic, like an actual angel, jisung isn't sure why he's even focusing so much on your face, but he can't focus on anything else, because his eyes just naturally always wander over to you.

"will this ever finish?" you inquire, pertaining to the baton club, who were still on the field even after they were supposed to get off. "i'm supposed to take photos of the soccer players for my editorials.." you mutter, it'd be horrible if you couldn't even deliver on the promise you made to your superiors.

"they're probably going to split the field" your fellow sports journalist, taehyun says. a small groan escapes your lips, you're annoyed, you hope this doesn't interfere with the photos you have to take, it'd be horrible if you just ended up doing the same thing all over again. "see? baton club is taking one side and the soccer team takes the main area because they need to start practicing now".

"they look so cute! i've always wanted to be apart of the soccer team!" lee sohee exclaims, and you turn towards him, a look of interest on your face. he attentively watches the boys, humming to the song that's playing. "why didn't you join them then?" you inquire, interest peaked.

sohee smiles at you, readjusting his camera and fixing his posture. "i enjoyed writing the editorial articles more" he shrugs. "wanted to try out but i missed the tryouts because eunseok hyung would have killed me if i missed anton's recital" at the words, you laugh, used to the behavior from the older boy.

"maybe next year".

"you'd fit in perfectly!" taehyun muses, and sohee brightens up, seemingly loving the words.

"really!? that's what seunghan tells me too!" he cheers at the words, looking proud of himself. "i'd look cute in that uniform though.."

you chuckle at sohee's word, finding him to be absolutely adorable. "yeah, you definitely would" you ruffle his hair, smiling at the giggle which sounds from the boy.

"i'm gonna go get a closer look at them" you say, motioning towards the soccer team. taehyun nods and watches as you get closer to the field, not super close, but close enough that your camera can capture a good view of the soccer team. you narrow your eyes, pointing your camera at the busy boys who are doing their usual routine, the viewfinder shows jisung in all his glory.

you take pictures, zooming in and out. you don't mean to put all the focus on jisung, he's just too alluring to not be the center of attention. he's such a natural, he's just so amazing, you can't not focus on him.

[click.]

and another shot, another one as jisung scores the goal. jisung's posture was perfect, his back straight, chin high as he wore an angelic smile. jisung hears the clicking of the camera, and looks to his left to see you, in the viewfinder you see jisung looking in your direction, you pause for a moment and notice a baton heading straight towards him.

"jisung watch out!" you yell, at the words, he tilts his head.

you quickly take the strap of the camera off your neck, throwing it until it landed right beside your fellow journalists, who looked as confused as jisung did. you ran as fast as you could, grabbing jisung's wrist and pulling him close to you.

the baton managed to hit the ground instead, and jisung shrieks as he loses his balance, toppling forward. he quickly grabs onto the closest thing to him.

you.

you lowered your arms to catch jisung, and you feel him hold onto the sleeves of your blazer, one of your arms on his stomach, the other on his waist. all his weight was in your arms, causing for you to lose balance too.

"shit—" you swear, falling onto your back. jisung fell on top of you, the grass tickling his skin. your back immediately hits the grass, and your head hits the ground softly, but your arms remain around jisung. jisung's hands were still on your arms, his upper body laid on top of yours, his head was buried into your shoulder, and he was sat in between your legs.

jisung takes a sharp breath, a look of worry quickly flashes in his eyes as he sees you. "holy shit y/n are you okay!?" jisung asks, pulling away from your prior position and you sit up, opening your eyes to meet his worried ones. jisung kneels, leaning closer to you as he cups your cheeks with his hands. "did you get hurt? is your head okay!?" he asks, or yells, turning your head to inspect for any signs of wounds. you just stare at him, his bangs that messily lay against his forehead, his eyes that glimmered under the sunlight, and his pink lips that you totally just want to lean over and touch with your own.

"yeah.." you whisper, your cheeks squished from the force of jisung's hands.

jisung stops turning your head and sighs. "are you sure?" he asks, still holding your face. you nod, placing one of your hands on jisung's, his are soft, yours are rough, you note. you move his hand and smile. "i'm alright don't worry" you respond, still holding jisung's hand. jisung pursues his lips, and he extends his hand out, pulling you up from the ground. you let go of his hand, dusting off your pants.

"jesus y/n" taehyun's voice sounds from behind you, and you finally glance away from jisung, eyes focused on your friend. "are you okay? your not injured are you?"

"i'm fine.." you mumble again, blinking as taehyun suddenly hands you your camera. ah, he'd picked it up for you. you take it, inspecting it to make sure it's not broken.

"is the camera okay?" jisung inquires, looking over your shoulder to stare at it.

luckily, it wasn't damaged because it had fallen on the soft grass. "it's still working" you respond, and the two boys beside you let out a sigh of relief, with taehyun placing a hand on his chest.

"jisung! come back here!" his coach quickly yells, jisung looks to you, then back to his teammates. "thanks, i owe you" he says before running back towards his group, fetching the soccer ball he'd left on the ground prior.

"wow your like a hero!" sohee exclaims, shaking your shoulder with a smile. you just let out a nervous laugh, scratching your arm. you give one last glance at jisung before you feel your face heat up excessively, so you quickly turn away, putting your camera back around your neck.

"we should go back in now" you say, you don't say any more words as you quickly make your way towards the doors. your friends blink, exchanging glances in confusion, but they quickly follow you back inside.

"y/n! wait up!"

jisung watches you three leave, feeling his heart racing against his chest.

what the hell just happened? he asks himself.

"jisung are you okay!?" a very familiar voice shrieks. jisung turns to meet his fellow teammate jooyeon, looking concerned as ever.

"i'm alright, thanks for asking" he answers, gaze lowering down to his nails, which he quickly starts picking.

"are you sure? you looked like you hit your head pretty hard" the younger boy, as always, just wants to make sure jisung isn't lying, he's genuine like that. he pokes jisung's forehead, as if he was inspecting him.

"seriously, i'm fine" jisung lowers his hand, giving him his default 'i'm okay' smile. "y/n cushioned the blow anyway.."

"you were so close to him!" jisung startles as keum donghyun comes out of nowhere. "how did it feel? was it like a dream come true?"

"i—" jisung is speechless, he closes his mouth and blinks a good seven times before even actually assessing the question.

how did it feel?

jisung doesn't know how to express it. he didn't want to think about it in that way because you'd just done such a good deed, you saved him from flying metal going straight towards his head, he shouldn't have been thinking about the lack of distance between you two, he shouldn't have been staring at your lips, and he shouldn't have been thinking about kissing you.

his face must be so unbearably red right now.

"don't ask that! it was just very abrupt.. also, i can't think of him like that! he saved me from a flying baton, i'm just grateful for him".

jooyeon hums in agreement, slapping donghyun's shoulder for him ever asking such a thing. "that's right, you should probably get him a token of appreciation or something".

jisung blinks, trying to imagine what he should ever gift you. he truly has no idea, he's not sure if he should go over and beyond, or just give you a little gift as to not intimidate you. "i can't really think of anything, i don't want to overwhelm him or something, he just wanted to do a nice thing.."

"i'm sure he'll be appreciative of anything!"

at the words, jisung just sighs, smiling.

what a hero, l/n y/n— you really are something, he thinks.

"yeah— i'll think about it".

"good! back to practice now!"

jisung doesn't think he will ever fully be able to focus on practice, though.

"YOU LOOK LIKE YOU'VE BEEN RAN OVER BY A TRAIN" the words from the older boy, yang jeongin, snap you out of your polaroid staring daze. you flinch just the slightest, eyes peeling away from the scattering pictures which litter your desk. you rub your eyes, clearing your throat as you quickly gather all of the photos on your desk, hoping the eye bags present on your face weren't completely obvious. knowing jeongin though, they were definitely obvious. "thanks for the kind words" you respond sarcastically, a small eye roll accompanying your words. the older boy snickers, situating himself beside you, a teasing smile on his face. he props his legs up, blinking at you. "seriously though, you look like you haven't slept in years, are you alright?"

"i'm as alright as someone looking to pursue journalism can be.." you mutter back, placing the photos which were previously on your desk into your backup, a small sigh escapes your lips. "all of my applications are still pending.."

"seriously? i assume you would've been accepted into any of those schools by now!"

"you know how it all goes, they get hundreds— heck, thousands of applications every day, i just have to be patient".

jeongin raises an eyebrow, then just shrugs at you, humming. "there's no need to worry, y/n, you'll get into a good school".

you chuckle at his words, he totally read your mind when it came to that. "i'm not worried about anything" you lie; "i'll be okay, i know".

but do you?

your absolutely tired the whole entire day, you tried your best to focus in your classes, but you couldn't help your head slipping down and the way you almost slipped off to dreamland whilst your teachers were asking you very much audible questions.

"did you sleep last night?" sungchan asks you in the middle of your afternoon break, poking your arm as if to wake up. "you look like a zombie.."

"i slept a few.. hours?" your tone is very much a questioning one, as if you didn't even believe your own words. "i don't know, i was too busy fighting with lin, apparently i'm not good enough at what i do to consider journalism".

paired with the lack of response to your several applications, you weren't having the best week, it was all becoming just a little too much for you.

graduation is just too far away..

"anyway! did you choose the photos you'll put in the editorial yet?"

you think, for a while. you felt as if you had stared at so many polaroids by this point, that they're probably going to start appearing in your dreams, with the lack of sleep, constant flashing of cameras and just news news news, you've really had no time to focus on other things.

"i haven't even found time to think about the editorial" you whine, a weary sigh escaping your lips as you think about how pissed off your higher up is gonna be if you almost miss the deadline once again. "is the deadline coming up?"

"well— is four days a close deadline for you?"

you gasp, loudly, almost throwing your camera across the hallway. "four days!? four days until the deadline seriously!?"

you usually aren't like this. you are usually very calm, cool, and collected, but your week has been just the definition of a shit storm, and everything just seems getting worse and worse.

"hey, it's okay!" sungchan immediately replies, hoping to reassure you. he places a hand on your shoulder, a smile coming to his face. "it's not like this is anything new, it'll all be fine, you only have to choose two pictures anyway".

you sigh, rubbing your temples. "yeah" you breath. "it'll be fine, fine" you repeat, nodding your head as you relax yourself.

the hallway is crowded, not crowded crowded, but crowded enough that you couldn't help but begin counting the heads around you.

your eyes get stuck on a familiar figure across the hall.

park jisung, smiling and laughing with his friends. you get lost in a trance of admiring him, even though you can clearly hear sungchan talking to you. all your attention is immediately on him, and a small smile spreads across your face as you observe him, being himself.

there is absolutely no reason for him to be so breathtaking while just talking with his friend!

you are so distracted, and you don't mean to get stuck in this little reverie as you stare at the boy that you totally do not have a crush on.

he hasn't really left your mind, instead of just floating around in there like he'd been before that whole prior incident, now he occupies a whole subsection of your mind in recent days. you could be with your other friends, and all of a sudden your mind would wander off to jisung, or you could be in class and he just pops into your head.

you never thought you'd be one to get distracted easily, but you've clearly been proven wrong by just the alluring aura of park jisung.

you startle when jisung turns your way, making eye contact with you. he smiles upon noticing you, his eyes practically lighting up, and he waves at you. your a little taken aback, but jisung doesn't wait to see you wave back, just turning back towards his friend and continuing his previous conversation.

"what was that?"

"what was what?"

you quickly look over at sungchan, who had just witnessed that whole entire scene. he looks at you like you just grew a second head, and your face begins to burn as the realization dawns on you.

"you and park jisung!?"

your quick to try and sputter out a response, but you shake your head, face excessively heating up, it's probably red at this very moment. "there is nothing going on between us!"

"that doesn't seem like nothing!"

you realize how guilty you look right now. with your red face and constant insistence that there is absolutely nothing going on, those are traits the guiltiest of people display, and it all just makes you look even more guilty with how your face gets even more red.

(you must look like you're dying right now).

"it's just a friendly exchange!"

"not while your looking at him with hearts in your eyes!"

he was completely calling you out, and he was right. you were staring at jisung like he was an angel that had graced your presence, you stare at him like he's a saint and everyone else doesn't matter, as if he's the only person in the room. "i— i wasn't! i was just zoned out and he just waved at me to say hi!"

sungchan narrows his eyes suspiciously at you, totally not buying it. "uh huh, sure" his voice conveys disbelief. "just know, i'm onto you y/n".

you nudge him in the shoulder, seriously wanting to change the topic. "yeah yeah whatever" you cross your arms as you mutter the words, you're sure if you take one more glance at jisung, you won't be able to look away, so you just clear your throat and walk the other way, face still red as sungchan teases you the whole entire time.

maybe if you glanced back, you'd see jisung watching as you left..

JISUNG WAS REALLY HOPING HE'D BE ABLE TO catch you before school dismissed. you two haven't genuinely had an actual talk since you saved him from the flying baton heading straight towards his head. all you two have done is give smiles, waves, and mutter small greetings to each other in the hallway. he had to admit, it upset him in just the slightest, because he really did want to just have a conversation with you (of course, he isn't exactly sure he'd be able to get through a conversation with you without blushing like a madman anyway), but your schedules just kept conflicting, so even catching a glimpse of you around the campus has become difficult for him to do.

he doesn't want to waste any opportunity he has in his hands—

"y/n!"

when jisung sees you across the hall, he realizes that he shouldn't take this chance for granted. you turn around at the call of your name, smiling as you see the others making his way towards you. jisung runs a hand through his hair, hoping he isn't making anything awkward. "jisung hi, do you need something?"

you smile politely at him, a smile so beautiful it seems like it could get rid of all the problems in the world. jisung loves your smile, he could stare at it for hours, is that creepy? he hopes it's not creepy..

"oh uh—" the words he'd been planning to say somehow get caught in his throat, but he clears his throat and proceeds. "i was wondering if i could walk you home?"

you blink, puzzled by the question. why would he want to walk you home? your mind begins to wander, trying to figure out why he'd want to do such a thing.

can't you just ask y/n? stop being an idiot..

"why?"

you don't mean for your words to come out that way, and you're almost afraid that you made jisung uncomfortable with your tone of voice, but he instead just smiles, squashing any of your bad thoughts. you love jisung's smile, you think it's underrated, so little people talk about it and the fact shocks you, you could probably compliment his smile for hours—

but that sounds just a little creepy.

"i just want to accompany you—" —and this is my only excuse to be around you— "do something nice for you after you did something nice for me".

the words make you pause. he's just.. so thoughtful huh? you've never heard of someone wanting to repay you for being nice, it's actually a little strange if you think about it.

"jisung you don't have to reward me for doing something nice.."

"it'd be great to walk with you, though, you make good company".

that's it? that's really it?

you're not sure why you're surprised about that, maybe it's just the idea that he literally searched for you just to say this, he truly just wants to walk you home, he truly just wants to spend time with you.

he thinks i make good company, just the thought alone is enough to make you giggle in your head. your inner thoughts sound ridiculous, but you can't help them.

"if you don't want me to it's totally oka—"

"no no no" you immediately cut into his sentence, hoping that didn't come off as desperate as it sounded. "i'm glad you offered to walk me home, i'd love to walk with you too".

you unsuccessfully try to mutter those last few words, a sudden shyness taking over you. jisung smiles, glad, no, elated at your agreement. he doesn't know why he's that happy, but he hopes it isn't clear and evident, he'd never live it down.

after bidding a goodbye to your friends, and telling sungchan you'd make sure to choose the photos for your editorials, you dragged jisung out of the school doors, much to your and jisung's surprise, as well as the shock of a few of your classmates, he made sure to eye the both of you suspiciously.

"what interested you in photography?"

a scene like this is something jisung thought he'd never get to, being able to talk to you, one on one. just the two of you sharing a simple conversation is what he's wanted for an uncharted amount of time, even with how straightforward it is, the two of you could never really find time to converse normally.

when jisung asks the question, you almost think you heard him wrong. he genuinely wants to know? in a way, you feel like you've always been just the slightest bit boring, yeah you wanna do journalism and love taking aesthetically pleasing photos but you've never considered what you do to be a talent by any means.

you pick at your fingers, looking down at the ground instead of at jisung. "it's an interest i picked up from my mother, i've always been shocked how she could just do that, you know? i love videography and stuff like that as well, i love how one can capture so much with just a single camera".

your words intrigue jisung, and he listened the whole entire way, not interrupting you once. he found a smile crossing his face at the clear display of passion for your creative work, he loves the way you put it into words. god if he didn't admire you before, he surely did now.

"what about you? you're pretty much good at everything, what drew you to the adrenaline rushing excitement of soccer?"

jisung pauses, allowing himself to let out a small snicker at the question. "i don't really enjoy soccer".

you raise an eyebrow. "oh?"

jisung laughs again, your tone of voice amusing him. "don't say it like that.. it's not that i hate it, i'm just not as into it like everyone expects me to be, i got onto the school team and i've been stuck there ever since" there isn't exactly distaste in jisung's tone, he just states it casually, like how it is. his voice is just simple, mundane, he doesn't dislike soccer, it's just not what he's looking forward to do.

you love his honesty.

"i'm into other things in a much more passionate sense, like dance, soccer is just a hobby" he finally finishes, pulling his sleeves over his arms as he avoids eye contact with you.

"so no professional soccer player park jisung?"

"i think i'll leave it to the other guy to be known for that".

you chuckle at his words, okay, he's funny (you knew that already, you just had to reiterate it in your head). god how can a guy be so perfect? you get why people are so into jisung, he's charming even without trying. you feel like the luckiest guy on earth knowing he asked to walk you home.

"y/n, i'm a very.." jisung pauses, as if trying to articulate the words he was about to say. "i really admire you a lot".

you almost lose it.

park jisung, beautiful, talented, hardworking park jisung admires you? he is an admirer of yours? you don't even know what to say, you try your best to sputter out a response but your brain is practically malfunctioning. your face goes red, and you go silent for a few minutes.

"i don't get it" is what you say, and jisung just cocks his head towards the side, observing you. "what's so admirable about me?"

"do you want a list?"

oh i'd love that. "i don't think you should waste your time".

"i wouldn't be wasting my time" jisung smiles, his gaze focused on you and only you, there's a way he's looking at you that keeps you still, unable to look away from him. "i never get the chance to tell you, i'd love to talk about everything i admire about you".

when did jisung get so bold? he'll never know where this random confidence came from, but he has an opportunity, he can't let it go to waste. he has to bring it up to you.

"what i do is nothing incredible—"

"i would disagree".

you should be angry that jisung interrupted you, but you found yourself smiling at his words. he's so generous, he doesn't have to tell you this, he doesn't have to compliment you like this, but he's doing it on his own accord, he wants to.

"okay then.. is it a good time to tell you that i also feel the same?"

jisung's ears go red, so red that it looks like smoke is gonna start pouring out of them. he is shocked, absolutely speechless. you admire him? does that mean he's gotten it all wrong these past few years? does that mean you return his feelings as well—

wait what?

"oh really?"

the prior confidence jisung had when telling you about his admiration has now all fizzled away, his voice almost cracks as he tries to register your words, and thank god it doesn't.

"it's kind of like what you said, you're amazing, a very admirable person, i know you don't really think of yourself like that but i do, and it's nice to be able to tell you up front".

jisung remains silent, but you don't mind, you just give him a smile and continue walking forward, allowing for him to catch up to you.

"is that actually true?"

"why would i lie to you?" you turn around, your whole body facing him. you begin walking backwards and wait for jisung's reply to your question. "don't give me that look".

jisung frowns, a playful one, he sends you a cute little glare that makes you giggle. he's absolutely adorable, you think in your head, he's the cutest person ever right now.

"you admire me?"

"yep".

"more than i admire you?"

"definitely, and don't even try to argue with me".

jisung opens his mouth to do exactly that, but you stop, turning around as you make it to the front of your house. "okay well, thank you for walking me home, ji".

jisung raises an eyebrow, noting down the nickname in his head. it's a common nickname, but he loves the way it sounds coming from you, he loves that you didn't just drop his full name.

"it's no problem.."

"i—"

you're cut off by the sound of the door opening, and your met with the face of your mother, whose face immediately brightens at the sight of you. you smile at her, and jisung just kinda stands there awkwardly.

"hi honey" she wraps her arms around you, and you let her, leaning your head onto her shoulder. "i thought you were staying late today?"

you shake your head. "not today, it's friday remember?"

"ohhh, yeah".

jisung glances down at the ground, playing with his feet. he doesn't know what to say, he doesn't want to interrupt the conversation you're having with your mother—

but he doesn't have to say anything, because your mother pipes up.

"oh! and who might this be?" she narrows her eyes at jisung, cogs in her brain seem to turn but then she snaps his fingers and gasps, seemingly getting it. "oh my god! park jisung?"

jisung smiles, a little laugh escaping his lips. "that is me".

"holy, you've changed so much? the last time i saw you you were barely up to my knees!"

at the sound of your mothers words, you give jisung a teasing stare, one which he quickly turns away from. "you and y/n are finally friends? i was wondering when it'd happen.."

your face goes bright red at the words, and an awkward chuckle escapes your lips. "seems he was too, he always talked about it—"

"haha! what!? that's hilarious mom!" you quickly cut in, not wanting her to talk about your former ramblings about park jisung, park jisung who was right beside you. "yeah okay, jisung i'll see you monday?"

jisung nods, a little too desperately for his liking, luckily you don't notice. "yeah, monday, have a good weekend, y/n".

you smile, blood rushing through your cheeks. "be safe".

he gives a small wave and turns around, beginning the walk back towards his home.

"he's such a nice kid, you sure you're just friends?"

your jaw pretty much drops, and you give your mother a look you don't think you've ever shared with her before. "yes! just friends!"

"hmm, sure".

"WHO ARE THOSE FOR?" CHENLE asks as he immediately notices the goodies in jisung's hands. he raises an eyebrow suspiciously at his best friend, examining the bouquet of flowers and box jisung held. jisung ignores him for a couple of minutes, placing the box in his locker and closing it behind him. "for someone" he just replies, hoping he could just remain vague instead of telling chenle about his true plans. the older narrows his eyes, clearly curious about this 'someone'. he flicks jisung in the forehead, resulting in a yelp from the other, who glares. "ow! what was that for?" he asks, furrowing his eyebrows and rubbing his forehead, a frown now coming to his face.

"what you're hiding stuff from me now?" chenle rolls his eyes at jisung's frown. "who are those flowers for? you got a boyfriend or something?"

chenle was right in assuming it was a boy that was making him go crazy, but you aren't his boyfriend (not yet at least, he's trying, really). he doesn't want to exactly divulge his plans to his nosy best friend yet, just because he'd go around telling everybody he could about what jisung was doing, he didn't want anything to be spoiled.

"they're for.. y/n".

jisung winces the moment he says those words, because chenle goes absolutely crazy.

"FOR WHO!?"

jisung is quick to slap a hand over chenle's mouth, glaring at him for how loud he said those words. "could you be any more obvious?" he asks, gritting his teeth as he continues to glare at his shorter best friend, whose eyes just widen even more. "yes they're for y/n—"

"what are you two dating now?" chenle doesn't care about anything jisung has to say, he slaps his hand away and stares in interest, wanting to know more.

"no! were not dating! it's just—" jisung pauses, how is he even gonna explain this without looking super guilty? blood rushes through his cheeks as he thinks about it, about how these are your favorite flowers, about how you might react. "i wanted to get him something nice! he did a good thing and.."

and i am just so in love with him, i think i might be going insane.

"i just want to do something nice!"

"okay but are you doing something nice or are you getting ready to ask him out?"

jisung's face goes a dangerously red color, and he immediately shakes his head, denial coursing through his veins. "i'm not going to ask him out, i mean— i get why you think that but it's not what it looks like!"

chenle raises an eyebrow, staring at his totally lovestruck best friend. "it sure does seem to be what it looks like".

"chenle—"

"look, jisung, there's no need to deny that you have such an obvious crush on y/n" chenle states like it's a matter of a fact, because it is, they both know it very well, he's better at assessing jisung's feelings than jisung himself is. "he thinks your cute, you think he's cute, you two just need to ask each other out".

"um.." jisung presses his lips together, the two falling into a weird silence. he clutches the daisies in his hands, thinking about you, but he shuts off his thoughts to respond to chenle's little analysis of him.

"i just don't know where we stand, i mean we're barely even friends".

"you two are pretty much already more than friends considering he can't talk to you without looking like he's about to devour you whole".

jisung's face must be an astonishing shade of red right now. "it's not—! i don't know how to explain it okay!?"

"yeah and how are you gonna explain the flowers?" chenle points at the daisies jisung is practically squeezing to death. "other people are probably gonna get another idea".

"well i'll let them think what they want" jisung responds, his only focus is you, who cares what other people think? your his main priority. "y/n is my main focus, i don't care about what other people are saying".

chenle chuckles at his response, oh park jisung is so down bad, he's so in love with you, a kind of love chenle has never seen him have for another person. yes park jisung, love avoiding extraordinaire, is head over heels in love with a boy, chenle cannot believe it.

"okay jisung, go ahead with your wooing y/n mission or something".

at least chenle is supportive.

jisung has to go through so many interrogations to explain to your fellow photographers why he's giving you flowers, while a few of them just shrug and get it, the rest of them make sure to eye him suspiciously while he goes on with his explanation and bright red ears.

he knows most of them probably won't keep their mouths shut, and jisung knows that you told him he shouldn't get you anything for preventing him from getting any future brain damage, but jisung disagrees, he thinks you deserve gifts.

"who are those for?"

your brain doesn't register the flowers, or the connection that they have with your not-so-secret admirer, you just stare at them puzzled. "they're for you!" sohee yells from somewhere else in the room, focused on another important thing.

your eyebrows furrow, and you blink as you stare at the daisies on the table. daisies are your favorite flowers, but everyone knows that! these could be from anyone! you're no stranger to getting random gifts from people, so these could really be from anyone.

but you only have a certain person in mind..

"from who?" you ask, but you really already know who, considering the knowing look sohee sends to you.

"jisung".

of course, you say in your head, your fingers trace the packaging of the bouquet, admiring the pretty flowers before you (the pretty flowers given to you by a pretty boy), a small smile comes to your face as you think about it. you told jisung not to get you anything, but he obviously wasn't going to listen to you, he's made that very clear.

"did he tell you anything?"

sohee doesn't spare you another glance, but you can just tell he's grinning like a madman with the way he's clearly trying to hold in his laughter. "he just told me to make sure to get them to you, he was very insistent".

the teasing tone of your friends voice doesn't go unnoticed by you, and your barely able to stifle your laugh, not at sohee exactly, but at jisung's actions.

of course he didn't listen when you said for him to not get you anything, he remembered what your favorite flowers are, did he spend his weekend thinking about it? you wonder what kind of florists we must've went to.. your mind races with just jisung thoughts, and you're just so lost in them that you don't realize your zoning out.

oh park jisung, why do you have to be so sweet?

"DID YOU REALLY HAVE TO?" YOU immediately ask the moment you come across park jisung in the hallway. the boy blinks, smiling at the sight of you, his face practically brightens at the sight of you. "what do you mean?" he inquired innocently, a small tilt of his head adding to his question. you send him a glare, not a serious one, but it's still a glare. you can't even believe his audacity, for him to look at you with such beautiful eyes, make your knees feel weak without even having to do anything? park jisung is just such a crazy man, you don't know if you can stare at him any longer, you might end up passing out from heat exhaustion (the heat from your face, of course, something that's become so normal for you when around park jisung).

"don't 'what do you mean?' me, i told you not to get me anything!" you complain, lightly shoving jisung's shoulder. "seriously, i said it was fine.." you mumble those words, but jisung just smiles.

"i wanted to get you something anyway, i needed to show you my appreciation somehow".

but just your admiration is enough appreciation for me, just you being around is enough, just you is enough.

your own thoughts weird you out on occasions.

"i told you not to—"

"but i wanted to, it's fine y/n, seriously, just accept my gesture".

you bite your inner cheek, he just always has to be nice, doesn't he? your cheeks flare up and you swear your face goes a shade of red you've never seen before, how does one boy even affect you like this? you don't think you've ever acted like this around any of your other admirers ever..

"ah" a small smile comes to your face. "thank you" you whisper, you're not sure why you get so shy all of a sudden.

"it's no problem" jisung responds, a smile coming to his face. he closes the door to his locker, and then leans onto it. "walk with me?"

you blink, jisung really likes walking with you, huh? is this gonna become your thing? you wouldn't really mind when you think about it.. you enjoy walking with jisung, you just enjoy any time you can spend with jisung.

"what's with you and asking to walk with me?"

"walking with you is just.. nice".

"do i ease your stresses or something?"

your tone is meant to come off as teasing, and your question is mostly unserious, you don't register how you sound like your flirting with jisung, probably because everything just feels so natural with jisung, you love how you feel around him, it's confusing to explain.

"i guess you could say that" jisung's response snaps you out of your jisung focused thoughts, thoughts which are difficult to not get stuck in considering park jisung is constantly occupying your mind these days. "anyway, can you walk with me?"

you pause, tongue pressing against the inside of your cheek. you have class in twenty minutes, and you don't really want to walk back all the way with only five minutes left to make it to class. "i don't know.. chen might kill me".

"please?"

that catches you off guard, you seemingly forget how to think for a second. jisung really wants to walk with you so bad, he's reverting to that easily convincing voice of his? you'd be an idiot to say no, you'd be an idiot to deny anything given to you by park jisung, you sigh in your head.

"okay, fine".

a smile of victory places itself on jisung's face, and he takes your hand, to your own surprise, as the two of you begin making your way down the hall. you wanna bring it up, but you don't want him to let go of you, so you don't. your face goes a bright shade of red, jisung doesn't seem to mind, or maybe he's always wanted to hold your hand, you aren't sure.

you focus way too much on it, on the way it feels, how jisung's soft hands contrast your rough ones, how warm his hands are, you don't want to let go, you don't want him to let go. god, you feel like such a loser, freaking out over a boy holding your hand.

but it's not just a boy, it's park jisung, park jisung makes you feel things you thought you'd never feel before..

"why do you seem so worried?" jisung chuckles, his hand holding yours. he nudges your shoulder lightly, raising an eyebrow.

"because, i don't wanna be late".

jisung snickers, not making fun of you, though, he hopes you don't think that. "have you never skipped a class before?"

your eyes widen as large as saucers, model student park jisung has skipped classes? a small chuckle escaped your lips. "no, i could never bring myself to, it always made me feel strange.."

now it's jisung's turn to look surprised, you laugh again, why does he assume you skip classes? or have even attempted to skip? you wonder what goes through his mind. "are you serious? you've never tried to skip before?"

you scoff, pinching his arm. "i tried to once in the sixth grade because of a dare from friends, but i literally couldn't do it, they called me a wimp for the rest of the year".

"aww sad".

"don't give me your fake pity, also— you've skipped class before!?"

jisung chuckles at your surprise, giving a small smile. "it was a few times as a sophomore, some classes are just so boring i can't resist".

"wow, model student park jisung skips his classes? i cannot believe the information that has been bestowed upon me".

the words, paired with your sarcastic tone made jisung let out yet another snicker, he hopes he's not overdoing it in your eyes, you're genuinely just a very funny person. "oh no! don't use this secret to tarnish my pristine reputation!"

"you're such an idiot".

a cute idiot.

"be quiet, you still love me" jisung rebuts, adding a small nudge to your shoulder along with his words.

it's weird to say, but you like this. even with your totally non-romantic feelings for jisung, you find this nice. is this what dating him would be like? you get to hold hands and joke around in the halls without a care in the world? you think you'd enjoy that, you'd enjoy dating park jisung.

wait what?

you snap out of your thoughts when jisung stops, so you stop too. he lets go of your hand, and you resist the urge to frown, because you don't want to come off as desperate. (but you are desperate, you're so desperate, having park jisung hold your hand was so nice, you want him to hold it again).

"this is my stop, thank you for my walking with me".

the words are simple, basic, but you find your face heating up at them anyway. you clear your throat, not wanting to stay silent any longer. "it was no problem, i couldn't disagree anyway".

jisung laughs, he is so pretty, so pretty without even having to do anything significant. "of course you couldn't" he looks down at his feet. "anyway! have a good day y/n, don't be late to your next class!"

you blink as you watch jisung walk into the auditorium for his next class, you watch as he walks away, standing there for what seems like forever. how could a guy, just a guy affect you so much? what is it with park jisung and making you stop in your tracks? he's mesmerizing, just so easily draws you in.

your eyes widen as you realize the time, you're going to be late for your next class, mr. chen is going to kill you!

and as you totally sprint down the hallway to get to your next class, your mind is racing with thoughts of park jisung the entire time.

"AM I NOT YOUR BEST FRIEND?" YOU CAN practically hear the pout in sungchan's voice as he said those words. you place the extra polaroids on your desk, then glance up at your friend, who stares at you with an expression of defeat on his face. you raise an eyebrow, puzzled at what the actual hell he's talking about, he's always just bringing stuff up so randomly, you can't even keep up with what he's referring to now. sungchan just frowns, letting out a groan of frustration as plops down beside you, a small huff adding to his words. you chuckle at the way he decides to present himself, and he groans once again, very frustrated. "where is this coming from?"

"why didn't you tell me about you and jisung".

you pause, an expression of surprise comes to your face, your face which heats up astonishingly quickly. "me and jisung? me and jisung what? we aren't—"

"y/n there's no point in denying it, everyone already knows".

"everyone already knows what?"

"that you and jisung have a thing, it's fine if you don't wanna tell everyone but excluding me? your best friend in the whole entire world from the news?"

"jisung and i aren't dating!" you say immediately, clasping your hands together as you try to calm your rapidly beating heart. why do people even think that? yeah you like park jisung but how did people even reach the conclusion that you were dating? you're not even sure if jisung returns your feelings. "i don't even know where people got that idea.."

"so your constant yearning stares and pitched up giggles are all not apart of that?"

"i don't—" you are definitely showcasing all guilty characteristics, your red face, your shrill voice, and your very obvious lying, sungchan sees right through you, anyone would be able to. "yearning stares are stupid i don't do that!"

"yeah, sure y/n" sungchan sighs, and you groan, screaming into your pillow. "i'm not trying to be mean or anything, but it's disgustingly obvious that you're into jisung, and i mean in a cringy way".

you gasp in offense, turning away from your best friend. you want to remain stubborn, but you can't, of course you can't, how can you even deny your feelings for jisung anymore if other people can now tell that you like him? your face heats up in embarrassment, and you cover your face with your hands. "is it really that obvious?" you mutter, hoping the answer isn't what you think it is.

"yeah, very, i wouldn't even be surprised if the two of you were actually dating and this was a little trick of yours".

sungchan points at you, an accusatory look in his eyes, but he immediately lets it go, because he knows you, and he can tell that you are telling the truth. you don't even have the courage to look at him, still covering your face with your hands. "have you not told jisung how you feel yet?"

your silence tells sungchan everything he needs to know, and the look he gives you is absolutely criminal.

"YOU HAVEN'T!?"

"i haven't found any time too!"

"how much time have you been spending around jisung these days!? you haven't even tried to bring it up to him!"

you let yourself fall to the side, half your body hanging off your bed. "i don't know how to" you whine, mind immediately rushing to thoughts of park jisung, thoughts you probably shouldn't be having. "it's awkward!"

"well i'm sure jisung feels the same with the way he always has to resist the urge to kiss you in the hallway".

"with the way he WHAT!?"

the words are enough to make you rise from your formerly fallen state, a look of astonishment on your face. did jisung really return your feelings? or was sungchan just trying to start something that would end up absolute humiliation?

"y/n, not trying to be rude or anything, but it's so obvious that jisung wants to date you, he doesn't even have to say it for everyone to know!"

you feel like you just discovered the secrets of the universe with those words, park jisung likes you? like likes you likes you? once the realization dawns on you, you gasp loudly.

"WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME!? OH MY GOD I CAN'T BELIEVE I WAS SUCH AN IDIOT UGH!"

sungchan watches you freak out, he truly can't believe that he had to tell you for all of it to finally set in.

it's actually pretty funny, and he snickers as he watches you go absolutely ballistic.

"HAVE YOU SEEN Y/N?" JISUNG ASKS the first recognizable person he sees in the hallway. he hasn't seen any seniors anywhere for a while, but that's because the days keep getting warmer, meaning graduation keeps getting closer, most of the seniors only take two classes and then go on to do their extracurriculars, so they don't really have to spend the whole entire day at school, but it's weird today because he usually always sees you, even when he isn't purposefully looking for you (which has become a common thing for him to do, he's just loves the time he can spend with you). he hopes you aren't absent, because today is friday, and if he doesn't tell you his important news now he's going have to wait an extra two days.

"y/n? uh..." the unfamiliar boy pauses for a moment, as if thinking, and jisung is hoping that it isn't the worst, because he really needs you to be here today. "well i'm not sure where he is actually! probably with his other photographers".

"but he's here right?" jisung doesn't care if he comes off as desperate, his only focus is you, you are his main priority, he doesn't care about the impression he's making on others, he can truly only think about you at the moment.

"yeah! i'm just not sure where exactly!"

"okay thank you!"

the guy gives him a strange look, a mix of teasing and giddy, but jisung walks off too fast to see it, he's set on finding you. he doesn't exactly know where he's supposed to go, he's just hoping to somehow spot you and be able to get you alone.

"what are you rushing for?" chenle comes out of nowhere, noticing jisung's urgency and the way he's clearly focused on something specific strikes him as odd, but he already has an idea of what's making jisung so fidgety. "you're gonna confess your love to y/n or something?"

"yes, actually i am chenle, it'd be great if i could find him, though".

maybe it's jisung's surprising honesty, or the way his main priority is you. chenle finds it amusing how quick the switch flipped, but it's also kind of cute. the usual pessimist, mr 'i don't really care about love' park jisung is down bad for a boy, it's adorable. "have you tried the photography room?"

"where do you think i'm heading?"

chenle chuckles at jisung's attitude, simply smiling and pulling his cheek. "alright then! don't forget to tell me how it goes!"

jisung doesn't spare chenle another glance, just turns back around and focuses on the task at hand, finding you and telling you how he feels.

jisung wonders how you'll react, based on what he's seen, it's not completely guaranteed that you'll reject him, it's probably more likely that you return his feelings rather than don't. does that make him horrible? thinking because you've exhibited the traits of someone who has a crush that you have a crush on him?

maybe you don't like him and he's letting it all get to his head, it all just seems too good to be true.

jisung doesn't even have to go all the way to the photography room, because he bumps right into you whilst on his way there, and a small yelp escapes your lips. "oh my god.. sorry!"

jisung cannot contain his excitement, and his nervousness. there is absolutely nothing to be nervous about, this is y/n. kind, understanding, charming y/n, it's not like he's going to scream at you for telling him you like him. it’ll all be fine.

"it's alright" you whisper, shaking your head for a moment. "i was looking for you" you immediately say, not allowing for jisung to speak before you.

jisung's eyes widen. you were looking for him? it makes his brain go haywire, figurative cogs in his head turning. "that's ironic, i was looking for you too".

jisung swears he can see the red coloring on your cheeks, but he doesn't say anything about it.

"i have to tell you something".

the two of you say that sentence in unison, the same amount of anxiety coursing through your veins, the same red hue on your cheeks, the same look of surprise in your eyes. "you can go first" you whisper, picking at your fingers, you aren't exactly sure if you want to hear what he's about to say.

"are you sure? it seems you have something more important to say.."

"it's fine! really, i can just say it after yo—"

"i'm in love with you".

the words strike you like a punch to the gut, a slap to the face. your stomach drops, your face is burning horribly, and your legs feel like they're about to give in. you cannot believe it, you hope you don't pass out, you hope you don't just die right here, that'd be so embarrassing.

park jisung is in love with you. beautiful, talented, model student park jisung who you've never truly known how you felt about is in love with you. you are so happy, giddy, and it disgusts you, but the disgust is quickly replaced by the feeling of joyousness. park jisung is in love with you, he feels the same way.

"jisung, i'm—"

"it's okay if you don't return my feelings i just wanted to tell you!" is that really what he thinks? that you don't love him back? he must be crazy, you've only ever exhibited reciprocal feelings. "i'll be off now!"

"no! don't go!" you grab jisung's wrist before he can walk away. smart move y/n, you're acting so natural right now. "i just, i return your feelings! i just don't know how to explain it, also my hands are very sweaty right now and i feel gross.."

you let go of jisung's wrist and feel your face get unbearably hotter. it's embarrassing, you feel so embarrassed, but it's park jisung, and jisung just stares at you lovingly. you're so cute, how did it take him this long to tell you how he felt?

"you're so cute".

jisung doesn’t even realize he says the words until you give him that look, and your red face just makes him giggle more. "this isn't— that is not fair! i was supposed to confess first!"

"you're the one who told me to go first!"

"i didn't know you were going to tell me you liked me! i prepared a whole sentence for you and everything!"

you whine, covering your red face with your hands. jisung removes your hands from your face, and a small smile graces his pretty features. he's absolutely gorgeous, he has such a pretty smile, you have the sudden urge to tell him about it. "your smile is beautiful".

now it's jisung's turn to become the red faced lovesick fool. "ah, really?" he responds, voice shaky, hands even more shaky, but they're so soft, your mind always reminds you to note that.

you hum in agreement. "it's very pretty, i can't believe more people don't talk about it".

"well you can talk about it, aren't we technically dating now?"

the question makes you pause. you feel like your about to go insane, you're dating park jisung? park jisung is your boyfriend? this is like a dream come true, a dream you thought would stay a dream and only a dream. "dating? dating! yeah yeah!"

your natural act is not natural at all, you are very nervous, so nervous you feel like your about to collapse onto the floor. "there's no need to be so nervous.."

you groan. "says you!"

"alright y/n" jisung lets go of your hands, much to your dismay, because you frown. he takes note, and reaches over to grab your own once again, intertwining your fingers. "we’re dating, you don't have to go red faced every time i compliment you now".

"but it's you, how do i not?"

jisung sighs, leaning forward and pressing a small peck on your lips. oh he is such a stupid little—

"why would you do that!?"

"i'm sorry!" jisung giggles, he was definitely not sorry. "it was an instinct, i had to!"

"you— ugh!"

park jisung can't just not make you nervous, he's such a crazy man.

one that you love, of course.

"I THINK I LIKE THIS ONE THE MOST.." JISUNG states, admiring the polaroid photos which litter the desk. you hum at his words, rummaging through the box on the counter, you are very much focused on finding that estranged camera taehyun had pointed for you to find. your boyfriend glances up, looking over your shoulder, silently watching as you get frustrated about this stupid camera you couldn't find. "which one?" you inquire, glancing over at him. jisung holds up the polaroid, a picture you'd taken of you and sungchan at the beach when you were nine. a pretty photo, you aren't even sure how you pulled it off. "ah, that is a pretty one" you whisper, and you smile the moment jisung smiles. his smile is so pretty, a cute stretch which is enough to make you smile, even if you feel down.

"what’s with your face?"

"searching for this old camera is pissing me off" you remark, knowing that you have to search for this is just making you even more mad, why do you have to pack the photography room right before graduation? you hate it. "who even left it in here?"

"a former student maybe?"

you close your eyes, sighing. "i need this to be over so much more quickly" you complain, and jisung just laughs at your misery.

"we graduate in a week, y/n, just be patient" the younger pokes your cheek, then he cups your face, trying to make your frown disappear. "an old camera is not the end of the world".

you glance down at jisung's lips, then narrow your eyes. "are you trying to seduce me?" you question, raising an eyebrow.

"no?" jisung responds, adding a small tilt of his head to his words. "do i sound believable?"

"not at all" you say, pushing jisung's hands away and looking back to the box in front of you so you can continue to scour for this camera you have to get for your friend. you continue to search through the box, trying to find this old dslr camera for your friend. "so don't distract me".

"i'm not!" jisung whines, wrapping his arms around your waist and placing his chin onto your shoulder, watching you try to succeed at your mission of finding a camera. "you don't want to give me, your lovely, amazing boyfriend attention?"

you merely roll your eyes at jisung, he's so annoying (in a cute way), you're about to call chenle to drag him away from you, but you also don't want him to let go of you, his arms around your waist make you feel safe, loved, park jisung makes you feel so loved.

"i found it!" you shriek, victory soaring in your voice. "fucking finally".

"okay so can you give me a kiss now?" jisung asks, puckering his lips and leaning closer to you.

he's so desperate, and you are too, it's adorable, park jisung is adorable. "hmm" you pretend to think about it, an inquisitive look making it's way to your face. "nah".

"y/n! that's not fair!" jisung whines, shaking you with his arms that are still around your waist. he frowns, trying to give you his best puppy dog eyes.

you almost give in, but you push him away, taking the camera you'd been searching for. "later, babe".

"you said that this morning!"

you sigh, turning around to stare at the pouting park. the cute pout remains on his face, how can you ever resist him? you lean forward and press a kiss to his lips, ruffling his hair. "there, are you happy you big baby?"

"you could do better".

"uh huh, and you could be patient".

jisung frowns once again, but it's not a serious one, just the cute one he likes to do when he pretends to be mad at you. "don't be mad, you know i love you".

jisung does know, he knows that very well. he smiles at you, he's so in love with you, and not even in an embarrassing way, there's nothing embarrassing about this, he feels joyful, a sense of euphoria overtakes him whenever he’s with you.

"i know, i love you too".

and he isn't lying when he says that.

because he truly does.

#park jisung #nct #nct dream #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct drabbles #nct dream imagines #nct dream scenarios #nct dream drabbles #nct x reader #nct x male reader #nct dream x reader #nct dream x male reader #park jisung imagines #park jisung x reader #park jisung x male reader #𑁍 ࣪˖ 𓂃 isa's works!

[anonymousewrites]

Nature of the Human Soul (Book 1) Chapter Two

Platonic! Hazbin Hotel x Teen! Reader

Father Figure! Alastor x Teen! Reader

Chapter Two: Commercial Problems

Summary: While Charlie goes to speak to Heaven, the hotel tries to put together a proper TV advertisement (with many interruptions)

            (Y/N) had decided they didn’t like the extermination. The screams, the explosions, the angels—it was frustrating. Luckily, in the Hotel, they were removed from the killing and could just sit and wait for things to finish. However, Alastor had gathered everyone together to “show them something” (which, as everyone had learned already, meant everyone was about to be made fun of).

            Alastor switched on the old-timey TV he had permitted in the hotel, and it turned on to reveal an…ad?

            “Well, hello there you wayward sinner!” said Alastor’s voice as it displayed him pointing at two fighting demons. “Do you like bloody, violence, and depravity of a sexual nature? Of course you do, that’s why you’re in Hell!” The camera zoomed out to reveal a destroyed quarter of Hell. “But what would you say if there was a place to stay that had none of that?” The camera switched to the hotel. “Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel, a misguided path to redemption! Founded five days ago by Lucifer’s delusional daughter!”

            The camera faced Charlie, and she waved hesitantly. “Charlotte Morningstar! Come place your fate in her inexperienced hands as she tries to work through her daddy issues by fixing you! Here, we offer fun things! Such as a somewhat functional staff, and twenty-four-hour pest control! Custom rooms, and just look at this tacky parlor! Enjoy riveting conversations with our only two guests!” The camera faced Angel and (Y/N). Angel gave the middle finger, and (Y/N) narrowed their eyes, knowing something was up. “Wow! All this and more at the Hazbin Hotel! Your last desperate attempt at salvation starts here!”

            The video ended, and everyone stared while Alastor perked up, proud of himself.

            “So, what’d ya think?” he said.

            “I’m sorry, what the fuck was that?” said Vaggie angrily.

            “Uh, yeah, one note…” said Charlie awkwardly. “Alastor, I mean—First off, thank you so much for making this, it’s seriously amazing—but, um, maybe the tone is a bit off?” Alastor’s grin just darkened. “We want people to want to come here. This makes it look, um…”

            “Fucking depressing,” suggested (Y/N).

            “Funny. I was going for hilarious!” said Alastor.

            Vaggie narrowed her eyes. “It didn’t explain anything about how we’re trying to save demons from extermination, which is the whole fucking point.”

            “Vaggie is right, Alastor,” said Charlie. “The commercial was to let Sinners know we are trying to help them!”

            “Well, my dear, I haven’t been active in Hell for some time, and everyone remembers me from my radio show!” Alastor’s grin widened. “The proper medium to express oneself. But you insist on this: a noisy picture box advertisement. So I had a little fun with it.”

            “Oh, fun. You had a little fun with it?” said Vaggie. She crossed her arms. “Well, this is not what we want to represent us. When you showed up here a week ago, you told us you would help run this hotel. Instead, you’re mocking us! Nobody’s going to want to come to a place that a powerful Overlord like you thinks is a waste of time.”

            Angel raised his hand.

            “What?” said Vaggie.

            “If ya filmin’ a commercial, can I suggest you take better advantage of the talented celebrity you have right here?” said Angel, posing.

            “Ew,” said (Y/N), and Angel stuck out his tongue at them. Neither took it to heart. (Y/N) liked being able to speak their mind in Hell, and Angel would just give an equally witty retort when they did, so they both thrived in conversation.

            “Angel, you’re a porn star,” said Vaggie.

            “A famous porn star,” said Angel. “I’ll have the horniest sinners knockin’ these walls down to get in.”

            “I would really prefer not to have perverts in the hotel,” said (Y/N), making a face.

            “Yeah, no!” said Vaggie. “Not only do we have a kid here, but filming porn as the commercial is completely out of the question!”

            “Sex sells,” said Angel. “I swear, if you film me goin’ at it with Mr. Fancy-Talk-Creepy-Voice here, you’d be rollin’ in participants willin’ to stay at the tacky hotel.”

            Alastor looked unimpressed. “Haha! Never going to happen. Besides, like Vagatha said, we couldn’t create such an environment for an impressionable child. What would Charlie think?”

            “Yeah, it sounds like a bad idea…” said Charlie, looking at (Y/N).

            “Is everyone choosing to ignore the fact I killed people?” said (Y/N).

            “Angel, I appreciate you wanting to use your special skills to, um, attract folks to the hotel, but I really don’t want to exploit you in that way,” said Charlie, smiling.

            “Oh, please, baby. This body was made to be exploited,” said Angel. “I got the arms, I got the stamina, I got the legs, I got the lung capacity, I got the legs, the gag reflex, the holes, the chest fluff everyone thinks are tits—”

            “Should I just say ‘ew’ after everything you say to get you to stop?” said (Y/N).

            “Won’t stop me!” declared Angel.

            Charlie’s phone went off, and she hurriedly picked it up. “Uh, hold that thought. I’ll be right back!” She walked off to answer.

            “Hey, I have a question,” said Angel. He looked at Alastor. “If freaky face over there is so powerful, then why can’t he just make people stay here?”

            Alastor laughed. “Oh, trust me. I can.”

            “Why do you think I’m here?” said Husk. “You actually think I’d be cleaning bottles and listening to you fucks bitch and moan all the time if he wasn’t forcin’ me?”

            “What, you don’t love being here with me, Whiskers?” teased Angel.

            “Call me ‘Whiskers’ again, and I’ll jam that bottle down your throat,” threatened Husk.

            “Kinky! Come on, keep talkin’ dirty!” said Angel.

            “Until you let me have a drink, I’m not happy you’re here,” muttered (Y/N), glaring at Husk.

            “Princess over there says no, so no,” said Husk.

            “What the fuck is the point of being in Hell if I don’t get to do anything fun?” grumbled (Y/N).

            “I agree! Why not let the child have a good time? That’s what the hotel is for,” said Alastor.

            “See? He agrees,” said (Y/N), gesturing to Alastor.

            “That is a terrible argument,” said Vaggie. “He just wants you to get into trouble!”

            “I’m in Hell. What more could I do without making a deal with someone, which I’m not doing?” said (Y/N).

            “Indeed,” said Alastor, nodding. “Why not enjoy some entertainment and enjoy oneself?”

            “Stop it,” hissed Vaggie. “This is supposed to be about rehabilitation and redemption, people choosing to stay here.”

            “I’m choosing to stay here, and I think it’s all stupid,” said Angel. “We’re in Hell, toots. That’s kind of the end of the road, ain’t it?”

            “Well, maybe it doesn’t have to be,” said Vaggie. “Just because nobody has made it out before doesn’t mean it’s not possible.”

            “Hey, whatever means I can keep crashin’ here rent-free,” said Angel. “Crack is expensive.”

            “Haha! Yes!” cheered Charlie, bounding back into the room. “Vaggie! Holy shit!”

            “What?” asked Vaggie.

            Charlie gestured for her to come over, and Vaggie smiled fondly at her girlfriend before walking over. (Y/N) and Angel exchanged inquisitive looks. A moment later, Charlie slipped into song, which meant she was super excited.

(Charlie) “I can do this, Somehow, I know it, I’ll get Heaven behind my plan!”

            So she’s meeting with Heaven? thought (Y/N).

            “Charlie, hold on,” said Vaggie nervously.

(Charlie) “There’s just no way I could blow it! Not this once-in-a-lifetime chance.”

            “It’s just a meeting,” said Vaggie.

(Charlie) “To change their minds, And touch their hearts, Or whatever angels have.”

            “This could be bad,” said Vaggie.

(Charlie) “Cheer up, Vaggie! This could be swell! Something tells me that today will be a happy day, In Hell!”

            “Okay, but just…don’t sing to them,” advised Vaggie.

            “She’s gone,” said (Y/N).

            “That bitch is halfway down the street,” laughed Angel as everyone looked out the door to watch Charlie go.

            “Is she—”

            “She’s dancing, yeah,” confirmed (Y/N).

            Vaggie groaned. “Ugh, no.”

            “Is this going to go badly?” asked (Y/N).

            “It might go alright,” said Vaggie optimistically.

            “It’s going to be an absolute travesty,” said Alastor brightly.

            “In an entertaining way or in the way that we’re going to end up in trouble?” said (Y/N).

            “Both, hopefully!” said Alastor, looking forward for his own amusement.

            Vaggie groaned and put her head in her hands.

            “Well, I’m gonna go out and find something actually fun to do!” chirped Angel.

            “No, nope, nobody’s going anywhere!” said Vaggie. “We’re all sitting down and making a proper commercial that actually helps the hotel!”

            “Uh-oh, does that mean you expect me to be involved?” said (Y/N).

            “Yes,” said Vaggie.

            “I hate being told what to do,” said (Y/N).

            “Tough shit,” said Vaggie.

l

            “Okay, so Charlie is dealing with something very important,” said Vaggie once she had cornered everyone in one room. “So while she’s gone, we are making a new commercial. One that represents her vision and what we’re doing here. So, we need a camera. Alastor?”

            He snapped his finger, and an old-fashioned photographic camera appeared.

            Vaggie deadpanned. “A video camera.”

            “Hm.” Alastor was unimpressed with the idea, but he snapped his fingers nonetheless and let a video camera appear.

            “Alright, let’s do this!” said Vaggie.

            First up was a scene with Husk and Angel.

            “And…action!” said Vaggie, pointing the camera at them.

            “Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel,” said Husk, reading from the script. “Can I help you with anything?”

            “I’ve been a bad boy,” said Angel. “And I need a big strong daddy to put me in my place! On the path to redemption!”

            “Well, you’ve come—”

            “Oh, yes!” Angel cut off Husk.

            “To the right place,” finished Husk, rolling his eyes.

            “Cut,” said Vaggie, sighing. “Okay, Angel, I need you to be less horny, if possible. And Husk, can you maybe not have a script in front of your face?”

            “I ain’t no actor!” said Husk. “I can’t memorize this shit!”

            “Well, we could always improv this shit, Baby cakes,” purred Angel.

            Husk shoved him off the counter.

            Vaggie sighed and looked back at (Y/N) and Alastor.

            “This is going great,” said (Y/N) with a grin.

            “Oh, yes, splendidly!” said Alastor.

            Vaggie growled and was tempted to grab her spear as she was faced with shit-eating grins.

l

            Next was Niffty’s scene, but she was more interested in stabbing insects than she was the camera.

            “Stab, stab, stab!” said Niffty.

            “Alright, Niffty! Niffty!” said Vaggie, catching her attention. “Your line is ‘We have the cleanest rooms.’ Okay?”

            “Got it! I’m ready!” said Niffty.

            “Action.” Vaggie turned on the camera.

            Niffty’s smile fell, and she stared, wide-eyed, at the camera.

            “Uh…cut,” said Vaggie, slightly unnerved.

            “How was that?” said Niffty, smiling.

            “Well, Niffty, you actually have to say the line. Let’s roll again,” said Vaggie.

            “Okay!” said Niffty.

            “Action,” said Vaggie.

            Niffty once again just stared, empty-eyed.

            “You’re doing great, Vagina,” whispered Angel.

            “Cut!” shouted Vaggie. “Alright, um, maybe we can try to fix it in post.”

            “Do you even know what that means?” teased Angel.

            “I’ll figure it out!” snapped Vaggie. “(Y/N), Alastor, you’re up.”

            “No, I don’t get on camera,” said Alastor, dismissing the word “camera” distastefully.

            “I don’t want any attention,” said (Y/N), crossing their arms. They really weren’t a fan of having people stare at them, and a commercial would do that, especially for something as crazy as this.

            Vaggie glared. “This is for Charlie.”

            Alastor and (Y/N) remained unmoved and crossed their arms.

            Vaggie cursed under her breath.

l

            (Y/N) knocked on the door of the room Vaggie was using to rewatch the footage she’d managed to get.

            “What?” snapped Vaggie.

            “Listen, I don’t want to be on camera,” said (Y/N), holding up their hands. “I really don’t. But if I can help in some other way, I’ll do it.”

            Vaggie groaned and put her head on her hands. “I don’t know how you can help. It all sucks.”

            “Yes, seems like you’re having a bit of trouble there, hm?” said Alastor, popping out of the shadows.

            “Why are you even here?” snapped Vaggie.

            “For the entertainment!” said Alastor, shrugging. “I came here because I love seeing wasteful souls struggle to accomplish something meaningful and fail spectacularly!” He beamed at Vaggie. “Like you are doing now! Good job!”

            Vaggie narrowed her eyes and pointed the video camera at Alastor. “And here’s Alastor, the egocentric piece of shit that—” the camera buzzed with electricity, and Vaggie was forced to drop it as it sparked.

            “I wouldn’t try that, my dear,” said Alastor. “This face was made for radio.”

            (Y/N)’s eyes widened, and they were struck with Alastor’s intimidating presence once again. Holy hell, they wanted strength like that.

            “I don’t care who or what you are!” said Vaggie ferociously. “If you are staying here, you are going to make this work! Because it won’t be so ‘entertaining’ to watch over an empty hotel, will it, shitass?!”

            “Fair enough! I’ll tell you what,” said Alastor. “Let’s make a deal.”

            Vaggie scoffed. “Do you think I’m that stupid? Making a deal with a demon like you.”

            “Not for your soul,” scoffed Alastor. “Just a simple deal. I do this for you, and you never ask me to engage with this frivolous television technology ever again.”

            “You really hate tv,” said (Y/N).

            “It’s the worst medium for expressing oneself,” said Alastor distastefully. “So petty and uninspired.”

            “That’s all you want?” said Vaggie, furrowing her brow.

            “That, or Charlie can come back to absolutely nothing,” said Alastor brightly. “Your choice.”

            Vaggie sighed. “Fine.” She put the broken camera in Alastor’s hand, and it disappeared.

            Green light surrounded him, and he snapped his fingers. “Now, then!”

            Everyone appeared in the room and got 1920s themed outfits, and a camera crew of shadows appeared ready to serve.

            Vaggie smiled. “Alright, everyone! Let’s make a fucking commercial!”

            (Y/N) took a careful step back while Vaggie grabbed the others to film.

            “Still not interested?” said Alastor, amused.

            “I don’t want to be on camera,” said (Y/N), making a face and shaking their head.

            “What do you think of radio?” said Alastor.

            (Y/N) shrugged. “Better than podcasts.”

            Alastor’s grin widened, and he nodded in satisfaction. That was the correct answer.

l

            “Charlie!” Vaggie hugged her girlfriend as she finally returned to the hotel. “How’d it go? Did they listen?”

            “Oh, uh, they sure did hear it! But, uh…” Charlie trailed off nervously.

            “Oh, come here! We have something exciting to show you!” said Vaggie. “Alastor pulled some strings, and it’s about to air!”

            “I pulled a few limbs, too!” laughed Alastor. (Y/N) snickered.

            “Wait? The commercial?” said Charlie, eyes widening. “You all made a new one?”

            “Yeah, one of my better performances, if I do say so myself,” said Angel proudly.

            “That’s…that’s amazing!” Charlie’s eyes shone with emotion.

            “Shush, it’s starting!” said Angel.

            The TV showed them in their outfits. ((Y/N) had contributed by filming). “Welcome to the Hazbin Ho—”

            Vaggie’s lines were cut off as the TV switched to a “Breaking News” sign, and the residents and staff of Hazbin Hotel grumbled.

            “Breaking news in Hell today!” said Katie Killjoy as she came onscreen. “We have just received word from the Heaven Embassy that the next extermination is happening sooner than ever before. Do you know what that means, Tom?”

            “No, what does it mean, Katie?” asked Tom Trench.

            “It means we are all royally fucked,” cursed Katie.

            The camera switched to the countdown clock as it cut in half to 176 days.

            “Wait…what?! Why?!” cried Angel.

            “Holy shit,” said (Y/N), eyes widening. Their situation had just gotten worse. They were in more danger.

            And they still had no way to defend themself.

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[dizzycheetah96]

i’ve had this post in the drafts for like two months but with the release of poor things on hulu has come an uptick in really really bad poor things takes so here I am clocking in for the poor things discourse!!

while art is obviously subjective and can be interpreted like literally however you want blah blah blah etc. etc., I think a lot of the criticisms of poor things are pretty surface level and in the name of like performative anger and not genuine criticisms. will be addressing and commenting on the two biggest criticisms I’ve seen:

1. poor things portrays the born sexy yesterday trope

ultimately I think the film does enough to subvert the trope, and actually utilizes the trope as a vehicle to subvert it. what I think poor things is really doing is critiquing and commenting on how men seek out infantile and docile women as a means to exert control and assert their own self importance. these men then become disillusioned when said women gain intelligence, perspective, and experiences that don’t center them.

godwin, max, and duncan all sought to control bella in some way. they sexualize her, view her as an object, property, and an experiment. at the beginning of the movie, prior to bella leaving god’s house and exploring, we do get a bit of the traditional born sexy yesterday trope. but bella being who she is, she wanted more and she wanted to explore the world, grow, etc. this fundamentally changed the way these men interacted with her, and they were no longer infatuated by her innocence and curiosity, but saw her as threatening and something they needed to reign in and control.

first, when bella asks to leave the house and see the world, she is met with pushback from both godwin and max. when bella expresses her frustration, godwin fucking chloroforms her to get her to stop talking and fighting him. this pattern continues until bella leaves.

we saw this to an extreme with duncan. he noticed that bella was gaining intelligence and perspective, was threatened, and resorted to locking her in a trunk and literally fucking kidnapping her as an attempt to regain control. but after that, she continues to learn and grow. she meets new people who introduce her to philosophy and reading and intelligent conversation. this essentially brings duncan to his breaking point and he begins to mentally deteriorate.

2. all the sex was super gross bc bella developmentally had not yet reached the age of consent

people not grasping that bella having sex with all these men is SUPPOSED to make us uncomfortable is baffling. the depiction of this kind of relationship cannot be equated with endorsement. I actually think it was important that the audience know that at the beginning of the movie that bella had the brain of a child because it allows us to see how much duncan takes advantage of her. it also just further hammers home the critique of men preferring underdeveloped infantile women they can control, rather than independent intelligent women who challenge them.

I don’t necessarily have any problem with the movie depicting that bella enjoys having sex. discovering sexuality it is an ordinary part of adolescence (when she first starts masturbating I’m assuming she was like 12-14 developmentally) and ultimately what makes the lisbon scenes with her and duncan so uncomfortable is that we know that he knows he’s taking advantage of her. I do think it was intended to be uncomfortable for the audience to watch. she does not have the knowledge and understanding to know that the dynamic between her and duncan is very very bad, but she gets there eventually. I can’t fault her for in the moment not realizing what was happening to her.

but this is where my personal criticisms come in — once bella does learn how these men took advantage of her she does not fight back against them like I wanted her to. she isn’t outraged, she doesn’t tell them how violated she feels. duncan does get his comeuppance (which was hilariously played by mark ruffalo) but I think that max and godwin got off too easy. especially max who agreed to marry her when developmentally she was a child. I just don’t think she should have been so quick to forgive them.

I also just want to take a moment to discuss the common critique that “it’s so obvious this movie was made by a man like duh this is how men perceive what female empowerment is” etc. etc. this was actually addressed by emma stone in a conversation she had w olivia coleman — emma was a producer on the film and really feels like people are taking away her agency in deciding how to tell this story. she was an integral part in the production of the film, no one was demanding her to portray bella in a certain way, and ultimately what we see on screen is a product of her involvement in the filmmaking process. by reducing this to being a movie about how men perceive women you are completely removing and invalidating the women that actually had a say in how this story was told.

tldr; idk like obviously you can think whatever you want about it, but just don’t mistake depiction for endorsement and understand that sometimes the point of the movie is to make you feel uncomfortable. stories and narratives in fiction are complicated bc people are complicated!!!! we are messy and difficult and exploring certain topics in a fictionalized world allows us to better understand the world we live in. sanitizing ourselves of engaging with this kind of material will only hurt our ability to analyze and form opinions about contentious areas of life.

#poor things #*sigh* I am once again poor things posting #emma stone #yorgos lanthimos #poor things ily

[leigh-kay]

Phone Calls || Ethan Landry

warnings// overused gf phonecall smut plot, you all mad at me for cutting it short probably, she touches herself and he watches lol, ethan being a menace, degradation <3

She was alone when the phone rang, watching her favorite show. She was biting into a piece of the watermelon she'd grabbed in the kitchen when it startled her into dropping it.

"Hello?" she huffed, picking up the piece from her comforter.

"Hello y/n," the rasp was unmistakable to her ears.

Reagrdless, her eyes rolled, "Turn that stupid thing off. You made me drop my watermelon you jerk."

He sighed on the other end of the line, cutting the voice changer, "You know I thought it'd be funny-"

"To call me using your serial killer persona voice? Ha. I find it hilarious."

"You said it was hot when I showed up covered in blood ," she could hear his pout.

Switching to speaker phone, she sat the phone on the pillow beside her, "It was. Hell even the voice effect is... something. But your voice is my favorite."

She continued to eat her fruit, smiling at the sound of his silence at the end of the line.

He never knew how to take compliments. His flustered behavior gave her an idea. Why not push his limits?

"You sound pretty all the time but I love when you whisper in my ear. Or when you get all grumpy and assertive and sound all... aggressive."

He can tell what she's up to, and it has the opposite effect she'd imagined. Rather than turn bashful, he cuts straight to the very tone she'd talked about.

"Is that so, baby?"

"Mhm," she smiles, though he can't see her.

"Now that I think about it... you do fall apart so easily with just a few words," he's tempting with his words, "dont you pretty?"

The fruit is moved to her bed side table as she readjusts in her sheets, "The words you choose to say play a part too you know."

"Yeah? Like what?"

Heat floods her body as she thinks of all the different things he says. When she's on top of him. When she's pinned beneath him. How he begs when he's in her mouth.

"When you call me yours."

"And don't forget it. What else?"

She can feel her panties as they catch the heat pouring out of her.

"How you say my name when you.." she trails off, eyes shut.

"When I what baby?"

A sigh rushes out of her, "when you're inside of me."

"You just love when I fuck you, don't you?"

Her fingers trail to the line of her shorts, inching them down, "You know I do."

He could hear the slight whine in her voice, "Are you touching yourself?"

She gave no answer as her fingers run through her slit.

"Answer me slut."

She rolled her eyes.

"Yes mr. psycho killer," she snorted.

"Don't roll your eyes at me baby," his voice was less angry and more teasing, "now you're gonna do what I say, yeah?"

She'd come to the conclusion that he was watching her. Which also led her to believe that if she did as she was told, he'd fuck her the way she really wanted. Deal.

"Yes sir," she smiled, eyes wandering to the window at the far side of the room. She imagined he'd be sitting there, up in the tree beside it, watching her.

"Good. Now, play with that pretty pussy just like I would hm?"

She didn't need to be told twice. Slow circles across her clit made bumps break on her skin. She could feel her temperature rising as she grew needier with the teasing touches she granted herself.

"Look at you, teasing yourself just like I would. I bet you wish it was me though," she could hear the pride in his voice and while it annoyed her, orgasms trumped annoyance any day.

She took a breath, "Ethan please."

"Please what baby?"

"Just come in and touch me," she tried to keep her composure, "I'll do anything."

"Make yourself come and we'll talk about me touching you."

She groaned in frustration, "feels so much better when its you though!"

He laughed in a breath, "I know it does. But i want to watch you."

She knew he'd get what he wanted. He always did with that smile and those stupid fucking brown eyes of his. Disagreements were nonexistent the moment he made her look at him and shes pissed at the fact just picturing him is enough to make her more agreeable.

Regardless, her fingers slip into her cunt as she mumbles his name, dragging through her in a quick speed.

"Faster, angel," he demands.

"Please," she moans, "keep talking baby, please"

"God you're a whore. Touching yourself to my voice?"

Fucking hell.

Her eyes squeeze shut as he continues, "Such a pretty whore though hm? My pretty whore."

She nodded, curling her fingers in just the right way to make her whine.

"Sound so needy too, can't fucking wait to touch you honey."

She curses as she falls apart, crying his name and within seconds her closet door is thrown open.

A scream fills her room as he steps into the light.

"Fuck you!" she huffs, shooting daggers into the man ten feet away.

"You knew I was watching," he grins, making his eay towards her before crawling ontop of her.

"You know you say my name so pretty when you come?" he teases.

She finds her eyes rolling again as she glares up at him, "You said you'd fuck me if I listened."

He laughs, fingers stroking the column of her neck as he takes her lips on his own. She was perfect for him. So needy and so fucking mean. He loved it. He loved her.

Her fingers find home in his hair as she wraps her legs around his waist, dragging him closer into her.

The hand beside her head is supporting him as his free hand locks on her waist, holding her to the mattress beneath them.

As she gives a particularly sharp tug to his hair, he gasps into the kiss, hand rushing to her throat. As he sinks his fingertips into the flesh of her neck, she grins into the kiss hes pressing to her lips, "Harder."

He fights the laugh in his throat as she stares up at him, "You're in no place to make demands."

Before she can utter another word, he's squeezing tighter and letting his mouth cover the space across her chest, enjoying the way her body reacts to every move he makes. The way her back arched and her hips would roll against nothing gave him a pride he'd never had before her. She gave him a lot of things he'd never had before.

"I think," he began to drag his hand over her still dripping pussy, "I want a taste."

Her body shivered at the contact as he got between her legs. She could feel that she was insanely wet, but his commentary on it made her body burn with embarassment.

"You get so wet for me," he grinned, pressing his lips along the insides of her thighs.

Her hands attach to his shoulders as his mouth connects with her clit, tongue immediately rolling over it in slow motions. As her hips rose from the bed, his hands locked around her waist, forcing them down.

Her head fell back as his fingers slipped inside of her. She knew she was in for a long fucking night.

#smut #ethan landry smut #ethan landry #scream smut #scream 6 #ghostface #scream