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#my favorite read this year so far was YA)
netherfeildren · 3 months
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Meet Me in the New Year
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Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader
Summary:  “We’re havin’ a baby this year,” voice boyish and shy and full of excitement and love. 
You peer up at him, cheek smushed against the ball of his shoulder. “We are.”
“Ready?”
You nod, slow, pulling his head down for another kiss. “Happy New Year, Joel.”
-OR-
The New Year's Eve AU
Rating: Explicit 18+
Content Warnings: No outbreak AU; New Year's Eve AU; Devoted Joel Miller; Established Relationship; Ringing in the New Year with your baby daddy like God intended; More fucking in your childhood home shenanigans; Pregnancy sex; Needy behavior; Older man/Younger woman; Daddy kink; Unprotected PIV; Creampie; Meet me in St. Louis is the best Christmas movie ever; Breeding Kink; Pregnancy Kink; Size Difference; How does one tag fingering?; Fluff and Smut; Praise Kink; PWP
A/N: One last post for 2023, and of course, I had to do a few of my favorite things; daddy Joel, creampies and pregnancy sex, yeehaw. Here's to a new year of more of the same, but WORSE and nastier.
I should be put in prison next year probably like omg but whatever. Have fun, I love you all lots!
This is a sort of follow up to Evermore
Word Count: 2.4K
Read on AO3
Ko-fi
MEET ME IN THE NEW YEAR
“Joel, what time is it?”
He looks down at you, tender look in his eye, dragging that big hand of his through your hair. Tresses slightly sleep damp and warm at the roots and gradually growing cooler towards the ends. Your parent’s living room is dark, only the warm shine of the Christmas tree coming from the front hall peering in around the corner into the comfortable, warm den. Meet me in St. Louis plays on mute on the flatscreen, Judy Garland rushing over to give John Truett a piece of her mind on Tootie’s behalf. “Look who it is. Thought I’d lost you for the night.” 
You groan, stretching your legs as far as the couch allows, knees popping hollowly, little toes splaying wide within the sweaty confines of the fuzzy Christmas socks he’d put in your stocking and which you’d been sporting for the past six days. You yawn wide, nose scrunching up at him and turning to nuzzle your face into his lap where you’ve been on and off dozing for the evening. Dinner had been so, so good, browned butter steak and baked potatoes and heirloom tomato, mozzarella salad, and you were so full and so warm and so content beyond imagining. “No… I’m awake,” you mumble against his thigh. “What time is it?”
“Almost midnight, I reckon.”
You turn to look up at him, giving him a scrunchy faced smile, “Didn’t miss it, ha. Knew it.”
“Oh, did ya?” His palm moves over the bowl of your skull to cup and squeeze the tender nape of your neck, big fingers gently kneading the fine, tight muscles there. “Gonna ring in the New Year with me, sweet girl?” Mhmm, you moan, nuzzling further against his sweats and the thick heaviness of his half hard cock. 
“You’re hard, daddy,” you whisper up at him while his fingertips slip beneath the neck of your pullover, running down the notches of your spine to reach your waist. He pauses there, his hand curving over the growing swell of your bump. 
He groans, head dropping onto the back of the sofa, and brings his other hand up to rub across his whiskered mouth. “Don’t fucking start.” You know it makes him crazy when you call him that, but you’d told him that you now have the excuse that he is actually going to be a daddy again, and so it’s only nothing but the truth. 
You press your fingertips to your mouth, hiding away your laughing smile. Your first Christmas as a little family of three. Sarah was away with her mother this year since she’d gotten Christmas with the two of you last year, and so the two of you’d decided to come to your parents house again, like you’d done for Thanksgiving last year. You’d been here for a week now, and Joel was starting to lose patience. The lack of alone time was needling as evidenced by the now fully hard and slightly pulsing erection digging into your cheek. 
He rolls his head to peer down at you, mock, chastising frown as he drags his hand over the small swell and up to your naked breast, squeezing gently. “We’ve been here too fuckin’ long.” And you moan, hiding your face against his thigh as he pinches your nipple, rolling it softly between his fingertips, thumb dragging around the sensitive puffiness of your areola. Your whole body had been, for the past several weeks, a coiled tight ball of nerves, everything swollen, everything wet, everything needing him. Like your skin knew, knew he’d been the one to do this to you, and wanted it more, wanted it again. 
You squeeze your thighs together, legs shifting and sliding against each other to relieve the knot of want he’s spin, spin, spinning with his fingers plucking at your breast. He switches to the other one, hand sliding beneath the heavy weight to lift it into his palm and squeeze. You turn to look up at him now, eyes wide when you can’t control the sound of the moan he forces out of you, mouth falling open, panting. Your breasts, going all tight and hot, needing his sucking mouth. “Joel–”
“What?” He teases, pulling his hand from beneath your sweatshirt and shifting to sit you up and press you back the opposite way on the couch, crawling over you to settle between your thighs he pushes open for himself, slightly to the side and sure to not crush you. “If your father catches us,” he whispers with wet lips moving across your throat, that same hand sneaking its way back under your sweatshirt, tongue against your pulse, “he can’t be mad, sweetheart. Already fucked you full’a my baby. Damage s’already done,” he snickers, mouth latching at your carotid, pulling hard enough you know he’s purposely trying to leave a mark. 
“You’re so bad,” you moan, arching up into his hand on your breast, his hot, sucking mouth. You want it on your cunt, you want that thick cock he’s rubbing against you, inside. He’s right, you’ve been at your parents house too long, too far into your first trimester to pretend at civility. You need your husband. 
“Not,” he huffs, damp against your collarbone. “Gonna give it to you so good, baby.” He wedges one hand behind your neck, holding you in place, while the one fondling your breast moves down between your legs, center gusset soaked slick already, and you flush at the flutter of muscles wrapped around his jaw when he finds you pantiless beneath your soft sleep shorts. And so what? Pregnancy had made you sensitive and achy. You need to be free, you tell him with an airy laugh. 
He clicks his tongue down at you, fingers slipping beneath the soft cotton to pet at the soaking wet tuft of curls with the back of his knuckles. “Pretty cunt’s all wet and hungry for me, isn’t it, baby?” And he’s all teasing grins and sparkly, self satisfied eyes as he searches gently for your clit, parting your folds to pet there slow and steady. 
Uh huh, you moan, hitching your foot up higher on his back, little heel digging into the padding of muscles over his ribs to find purchase. You let your other leg slip off the couch with a dull thud, socked foot rolling up on your tip toes so that you can cant and rock your hips against his too light touch on your cunt. 
“More, daddy, please,” you provoke, all breathless sighs as you roll your head in the cup of his palm, the heat of him seeping through the mantle of your messy hair, against your scalp. You feel him flex his fingers, tugging lightly at the sweaty roots, and he finally gives you more. Thumb sliding down to your weepy entrance, pressing there lightly, petting and circling, moving back up to press against your clit at the same time that he starts to feed you two fingers at once. 
You groan at him, scrunching your nose, but he just clicks his tongue, tutting you into submission and silence. “Take it,” he says gentle and low. You scratch at his shoulders, slipping your fingertips under his ratty t-shirt to get at his skin, using your bracing foot to rock your hips against his palm, rough callused palm catching a little painfully at your clit. You’re going to come so fucking fast like this. 
And fingers hooked forward inside of you, he jostles his hand a little, rattles your cunt so that all your wet rings loud in your parents dead silent house. “Hear how sloppy this cunt is for me?” He’s grinding his cock against your inner thigh, fat, blunt tip thrusting against the crease in your thigh over and over and you want it inside of you. You don’t care if you get caught, if someone comes down stairs. You want to soak his hand and then soak his cock and then have him carry you to bed and do it all over again. 
“Yeah,” you breathe. “Gonna come.” Your lashes flutter shut as he lowers his head to bite your tit, hard and mean, over your sweatshirt, fingers fucking fast and loud, and your cunt goes tight, tight like a knot and then wet and loose and even sloppier. You’re so wet for him. Always. 
Fucking Christ, he groans against your breast, sucks harder, darkening the grey cotton so that the hard tip of your nipple is left molded and obvious beneath the soaked fabric. “That’s it. Come just like that, sweet girl. You’re so fucking wet.” And he doesn't’ gentle his fingers, pressing in a little harder, palm grinding against your clit and shaking his fingers up and down inside of you so that he’s jostling another tiny, almost painful, orgasm out of you. The wet sound of your pussy is so loud and so obvious, if someone were to come down the stairs, the sound of it would be unmistakable. “Gonna soak your mother’s nice couch, and then what’ll she think of you? Everyone’s gonna know exactly what you let me do to you down here.”
You’re pretty sure that’s what gets you over the edge that second time. The thought of everyone knowing.
He nuzzles at your breast, your neck, sucking and kissing, fingers still stretching your pussy, while he makes his way up your throat, mouth against the tip of your chin, and then finally to your mouth. Kiss, slow at first, all tongue and hunger, and then soft little pecks. The corner of your mouth, the bow of your top lip, the other corner. Open, he orders, and licks behind your teeth. Bossy man. You love him.
He pets gently at your G-spot, slow and careful because he knows it’ll be too much soon, letting your slick spill out and gather in his palm, drip down his wrist. “Pretty girl,” he says real quiet, “Keeping my baby so nice and warm in this little cunt. Aren’t you?” You whine up at him, bringing your foot up off the floor, trying to toe his arm away. He clicks his tongue at you again, but finally pulls his fingers from you, wet, sucking sound as he leaves your cunt. He brings his hand up to his mouth, fingers slick sticky and sweet, shiny in the dim light and licks himself clean. You watch him as he teases you, all eyes and laughter, wrapping your fingers around his too thick, hairy wrist, not meeting around it, and holding him there as he eats your wet out of his own palm. When he’s done, his mouth is shiny and glossed in you and he presses another kiss to your lips, forces your jaw open, hinged wide and eats you like you know he wants to eat your cunt instead. Later, he says, like he can read your mind because you’re pretty sure he actually can.
When he pushes the loose waist of his sweatpants down over his erection, no underwear either, you roll your eyes at him, and tell him old men aren’t supposed to be this slutty. But at the sight of that too thick cock nestled in his neatly trimmed bed of hair, the wide root leading up to the happy trailed covered belly, you concede that easy access is highly to your benefit. And when he wedges that said thick cock inside of you by way of an answer to your brattiness, fat head stretching your well used, wet hole, he slides in way too easy because you want him way too much. 
You moan open mouthed for him, and he presses your sweatshirt up over your bump, your swollen breasts, and finally gets his hot mouth on your bare nipples, teeth grazing lightly, pushing you into a higher, hotter level of desperation. You rock your hips up to meet his thrusts, close your eyes and listen to the slick sound of his cock fucking your cunt. “Lemme see this sweet belly,” he murmurs, cupping the small swell. The changes he’d incited in your body had made him a specific flavor of hungry you were going to miss when this was all over. “You’re so fucking beautiful, carrying my baby. You know that?”
And you’re all soft sighs and whimpers and his name as nothing but a moan, hitching your knees as high as you can to open yourself further to him. “Fuck, you’re gunna come again. Gettin’ tight as a fist,” he grits, hips swinging back and then forward, pelvis grinding so that he’s pressing on your clit and then pressing you into another full blown orgasm. It throbs through you, an almost unbearable heat stirring in your pelvis, walls of your cunt pulsing and milking the too thick, sometimes too big, weight of his cock inside you. It always hurts just a little and you always like it too much.
He pulls out suddenly, tiny flutters still moving through your muscles and sits back on his knees, turning you on your side and shoving your thigh up, pulling the now ruined shorts aside to line up and shove back inside. He braces his foot on the floor, one hand on the back of the couch, the other holding your thigh up and open for himself and drills down into your spasming cunt, mid orgasm, and there are tears in your eyes and you gnaw and slobber on the edge of your mother’s couch as your husband fucks you into one last orgasm. The previous one not even fully over. “Told you you’d fuckin’ take it,” he growls, balls slapping against the curve of your ass, temples shiny with sweat, throat all red and splotchy. “Fuckin’ shame I can’t knock you up again here in your parents house like I wanted to last time. We’re gonna have to try harder next time.”
“Told you, you’re so bad.” And you can barely speak as he starts to pump you full of his load, hot and thick so that you can feel it being forced out of your cunt while he continues to shove inside. 
When he’s finished, cleaned you up and tucked you back into his side, both of you choosing to ignore the wet spot on the couch you’d left and agreed to plead the fifth tomorrow if anyone asks, the movie is just finishing up. Judy and her beau are finally at the World Fair together. The clock below the TV rings midnight and Joel presses a soft kiss at the tender spot behind your ear. “We’re havin’ a baby this year,” voice boyish and shy and full of excitement and love. 
You peer up at him, cheek smushed against the ball of his shoulder. “We are.”
“Ready?”
You nod, slow, pulling his head down for another kiss. “Happy New Year, Joel.”
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koolades-world · 3 months
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Happy Birthday Mc!
today is my birthday so I decided to make a special post in celebration! this usually won't happen but I figured I'd put in a little extra effort for the occasion!!!
Lucifer
"It's your birthday? Have my best wishes. Meet me in the garden behind the house after dinner. I have a surprise for you. See you then."
treats you to anything you said you wanted over the past year
expect flowers, a giant cake, and dinner at the fanciest place he could find
he feels like he doesn't appreciate you enough, so he practically treats you like royalty
lets you cuddle him to your hearts content <3
Mammon
"Happy birthday, human! What, did ya think I forgot? Of course I didn't. Here, I got this for ya. Get ready for a day of fun with your best man!"
so excited that it's your birthday and goes all out
he's never spent so much money on someone that wasn't himself before, but he couldn't thank you more for everything
makes sure you don't have to lift a single finger, even if you fight him on it
gives you a cute little birthday crown that he made himself, and of course, you wear it with glee
Levi
"Happy birthday! Gah, I hope that didn't sound stupid. I spent forever practicing... You're still listening!? Forget you heard that! This is for you. I hope you like it. It took me a month to decide."
he's so so nervous about giving you your gift, but he makes himself give it to you
he gives you merch for your favorite game that you never thought you'd see in person
also gifts you in game currency for your favorite gacha game since he understands the grind
at the end of the day, he gives you a tight hug before running off, embarrassed
Satan
"Good morning, love. Happy birthday. If you're ready, shall we go out for breakfast? You are? Perfect. I have the day planned just to your liking."
he's got the entire day planned, including all your favorite things and romantic moments
each gift he gives is given at a specific time with a specific meaning
even organizes a trip to the human world so you can visit your family and friends
your day ends in his arms as he reads you a book
Asmo
"Happy birthday gorgeous! You look just amazing. Now, before you say anything, open this. Do you like it? Turn around so I can put it on you!"
totally takes you shopping! even goes as far as to rent out the entire store for you
photo shoot with all the fun new outfits you make
fancy dinner and a large party where you're the center of attention
of course, he pampers you at the end of the day with a nice bath and a massage
Beel
"Happy birthday, Mc. I wasn't really sure what to get you, so I hope you like it. There's a cake for you in the kitchen, but don't wait too long to eat it. I'm hungry."
thought very hard about what to get you, and ask around to get ideas
eventually, he decided to give you something small and offer to take you on a hike somewhere remote and beautiful
treats the day pretty much normal, until he reveals the cake that he made for you
it wasn't perfect, but it meant the world to you that he made it and didn't eat it
Belphie
"Ahh, happy birthday. Your first gift is in my room. What's with the surprise? Just because I sleep so much doesn't mean I'm forgetful."
secretly the best gift giver
he makes it so there's a surprise around each corner for you throughout your day
also gives you a beautiful handwritten letter
one of the few days he's actively awake the entire time
Diavolo
"Happy birthday, sunshine!! I know how much birthdays means to humans, so I went all out. Follow me to the first surprise!"
goes all out and makes the entire Devildom celebrate!
makes it a holiday and gives everyone the day off, so he has more time with you
except the biggest celebration you've ever had
researches into human birthday traditions and plans a cute party including a pinata
Barbatos
"Mc, happy birthday. May your day be filled with many joys. The cake I made for you should be just to your liking. I hope you'll enjoy it."
gives you a beautiful hand made card with his gorgeous calligraphy
treats you to a fancy tea party! super fancy with all your favorite sweets
cooks you your favorite food <3
also says the cutest things to you that makes you feel like you're the only person in the world
Simeon
"Hello! Happy birthday! Lucifer told me you were having a party at the House of Lamentation later. Expect to see me there, but I hope you don't mind if I steal you for now?"
most of his gifts are handmade!
expect a cake he made and help with all your daily tasks so you can get to fun sooner
wants to make sure your day is perfect and extra special
prepares you a cup of hot chocolate at the end of the day for enjoying with your favorite movie
Solomon
"Happy birthday, my apprentice. Now, I know this is a little late, but what do you want for your birthday besides my company? Any potion you want made or wish you want granted? Oh, I can do that. Consider it done, beautiful."
pretends like he forgot your birthday at first, but does a 180 and showers you with all sorts of things
gets you a brand new coat that looks suspiciously like his and when you call him out, he acts like he has no clue what you're talking about
takes you to dinner somewhere casual, but treats you like royalty
he pampers you that night and feeds you dessert <3
Luke
"Happy birthday Mc! Will you open my gift right now? I'm so excited! Do you like it? I blessed it myself so those yucky demons won't be able to steal it. Really? Yay!"
so excited to celebrate with you!
he makes all your favorite desserts, and gives you a lot of little things he gather over the year for you
practically attaches himself to your side all day
talks your ear off!! and wishes you happy birthday at least five times and reminds everyone else to as well
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lanadelnegan · 7 months
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Tattoo
Pre-apocalypse!Negan x Reader (Negan is y/n's art teacher & also owns a tattoo shop).
Warnings: THIS IS THE FILTHIEST THING I'VE WRITTEN SO FAR and it's just going to get filthier from here on. smut, forbidden love, age-gap (reader is 18, negan is 38), angst, oral (female receiving), lots of sexual tension, slow burnnnn.(there's an actual plot this time), vaginal sex, public sex, breeding, slight daddy kink
Summary: After graduating and leaving behind the man she fell for but couldn't have, y/n decides to get a tattoo that reminds her of him. And he gives it to her.
A/n: ugh, this had me in my feels. A "hard to get" teacher Negan. basically you're negan's former student and he gives you a tattoo and things.. well - just read it.
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"Well damn. I don't mean to be sentimental, but I have seriously enjoyed teaching you little shits. I hope you can take what you've learned and apply it to something. Be creative. Oh, and.. don't think about hitting me up on Instagram after this because I don't do social media. That shit is toxic. Remember that, kids."
The bell cuts Negan off before he can finish his inspirational speech. He's always had such a way with words.. should have been an English teacher instead.
Most of the students rush out like the room is on fire, with the exception of a few annoying girls that think he'll jump their bones now that school is out.
"So, Mr. Smith, since you don't have social media, can I get your number at least?" I cringe as she twirls her hair around her finger and her friends giggle obnoxiously behind her.
"Girls. Behave for once. A tip for college? Don't flirt with your professors." He warns while motioning them out the door.
I suddenly realize that my ass has been glued to my seat this entire time and I'm the only one still here. I quickly get up and throw my backpack over one shoulder. He stares at me from the doorway but I just look down as I walk towards him.
"Bye Mr. Smith."
"Nice try. Sit down." He shuts his door and walks back into the room pointing towards my chair for me to sit.
"Mr. Smith, y/n?" He mocks. "Seriously?"
I never call him that. He's always been Negan to me.
I've known him for 4 years now. He's the only art teacher at Alexandria High, and even though I have no interest in art, I've taken his class every year because I do have an interest.. in him.
What he doesn't know is that I've been making mental notes everyday for the past four years about all his interests, personal life, hobbies, you name it.
He loves the color red - because it's the only color expo marker he writes in.
His favorite lunch is two cigarettes and coke zero. I hate that he smokes.
He stopped coaching baseball last year because he said he didn't have time anymore. But I think it's actually because he's never cared for it to begin with.
He had a wife, but she passed away. Some kind of cancer. She's still his computer wallpaper, which tells me he still hasn't moved on even though it was six years ago. My heart hurts for him.
He wasn't lying - he doesn't have social media....I would have found it.
He sits at another student's desk right next to mine with his body facing me.
"You gonna tell me why the hell you look like your best fucking friend just died?"
I stare at the floor next to his shoes and try to think about anything other than fact that I'm never going to see him again.
"Look at me."
I slowly lift my eyes to his and can't stop the tear that escapes the second I see his face.
"Ah, shit." His expression turns serious when he notices my tears. "Look, kid. I -"
"Stop calling me kid." I snap.
He chuckles. "Hate to break it to ya y/n, but you are very much a kid in my eyes, which is why this thing -" he motions his hand towards me. "this.. crush you have on me - has to end today."
My eyes widen as I stare at him speechless. He seriously did not just assume I have a crush on him.
"Did you jus - You seriously think just because a few stupid girls want to get in your pants, it means everyone does?" I scoff. "Unbelievable. You're my teacher. I don't have a crush on you."
He laughs as if we both know I'm lying - which I am.
"Alright, I'm sorry I called you a kid. Now, you wanna tell me what's wrong?"
"It's just I - I'm gonna miss you." I instantly regret saying it.
He nods and looks at the floor, letting out a frustrated sigh.
"I'm sorry. I - I'm just gonna go." I get up to leave, leaving my heart with him. My stomach twists in a knot when I realize he isn't getting up to stop me.
Why would he?
Once I'm in the hall, I turn to take one last look at him. He's bent over with his hands through his hair as if his best friend just died.
Negan's POV: That fucking girl. In my twelve years of teaching, I've never cared about a student like I do her. I care about all of my students, but goddamn it, she's had me wrapped around her finger for longer than I'm comfortable to admit - And I never will. She fucking sucks at hiding her feelings. I knew from the first day she walked into my class that she wanted to jump on my dick. Hell, every girl does. But other girls bat their fake eyelashes at me and tell me how they feel. Y/n.. she's.. obsessed with me. She thinks I didn't notice her doodling my name in her notebook with little hearts. Or that I don't hear her whispering to her friends about the dreams she has about me. Or how she stares at me during lectures like she's on a different planet. And if that's not enough, the girl hates art. Yet she's chosen it as her elective every single year. She has straight A's in every class, but doesn't even try in mine. And yet.. my dumb ass still passed her with an A. Maybe because I'm obsessed with her too.
Back to Y/n's POV:
I cried on the way home that day.
While everyone else celebrated school ending with a party, I stayed in my room and cried while looking at his photo in the yearbook.
While everyone walked across the stage at graduation, my diploma came in the mail and I stayed home holding Negan's lucky baseball bat that he gave me last year.
My last day of junior year, I stayed after school to help Negan clean out his classroom so he could move into a bigger art room. That was the year he quit coaching. I replay the memory in my head more often than I should..
"Why do you have this bat just sitting in the corner?" "It brings me good luck. I hit a home run every game my senior year with that bat." "Your senior year? This bat is that old?!" "Watch it, kid." He rolls his eyes and throws some folders in a bin. "Hmm." I study the bat. "I could use some luck." "Keep it." I look at him confused. "But... it's your-" "I want you to have it." He cuts me off. "Are - Are you sure?" He sighs frustrated. "Do you not want it?" "Well, I mean, I do but -" "Then stop being stubborn and take it."
Ever since that day, his bat has been leaned up against the wall by my bed as a constant reminder of the man I want but can never have.
After a few weeks of feeling sorry for myself, my best friend tried convincing me to do something for myself since my birthday was coming up.
"Y/n, you should.. get your nails done, go buy some new clothes, do.. something. But you need to get out of that room. It's... depressing."
"I think I want a tattoo."
"Oh, okay, yeah. That's a good idea. What are you wanting to get?" She asks from the other end of the phone.
"I dunno." My eyes drift towards the bat. "Something meaningful."
The next day...
Lucille's
The tattoo shop sign reads. I swing the door open, excited for the first time in a month. The sound of tattoo guns and rock music fills the lobby.
"Hey, welcome to Lucille's. Do you have an idea of what you'd like or do you want to see some of our work?" The woman on the other side of the counter pulls out a binder.
"Oh, no, I think I know what I want already." I smile and pull up the picture on my phone before showing her.
"Okay, we can do that. Shouldn't take too long either. An hour tops. I can actually take you now in room 3." The so-called "rooms" aren't actually rooms, but rather closed off sections with tall walls on each side. From where I'm standing, I can't see the people in the tattoo chair, but I can see the top of the tattoo artists' heads if I stand on my tippy-toes.
She leads me to room 3 and I sit in the chair while she gets out the instruments.
"This your first tattoo?"
"Yeah, kinda nervous."
She smiles. "I'd tell you not to worry, but, sorry babe. It's gonna hurt."
I appreciate her honesty and just smile back at her.
"So, where do we want it?" she holds the printed off picture off of the tattoo I want.
I lean back in the chair, putting my legs up, so I'm laying down. I lift my shirt up right above my belly button and slightly pull my shorts down, revealing my pubic bone. "Right here." I point to the left side of where my panty line would be but lower.
After I confirm the placement, she presses the needle to my skin and I bite my bottom lip at the sudden pain that radiates throughout my hip.
"Breathe, babe. You got this."
After a couple seconds, she turns in her chair to load more ink into the gun.
"Y/n?" I hear from the entrance behind me.
I know that voice without turning to look. My eyes widen and the girl tattooing me looks at him.
"Hey boss, you two know each other?" She looks between the two of us.
I look back at him and see him nod at her. "I'll finish her up, Ruby. Thanks." He takes the tattoo gun from her and sits in her chair when she gets up to leave. The scent of leather and cigarettes fills the small room and I realize how much I missed it.
He pauses when he looks down at my skin and I can't tell if he's staring because of my tattoo of choice or because I'm almost completely exposed. If I didn't just shave, half of my pubic hair would be on display to him.
The way he's looking at my skin wakes the butterflies in my stomach and I have to mentally tell myself not to clench my legs together. He looks up at me through heavy eyelids and for the first time in four years, I'm unable to read him. I can't tell if he's disappointed, mad... or turned on...?
He looks back at the tattoo and shakes his head, sighing.
Okay, it's definitely a look of disappointment.
"You realize I have to finish this now that she's already started it, right?" He studies the lines already permanently marked in my skin. The faint purple lines of where the sticker was placed give away the complete outline of what the tattoo will be. "There's still time to change it though."
"What? What do you mean.. change it? I want this one."
"No." Is all he says and my eyes widen in shock at him.
"You can't tell me what to do Negan. I'm an adult, and I'm getting it."
"Why?" He snaps, frustration dripping from his tone.
He looks into my eyes for the first time since he's been in the room and the butterflies in my stomach have now gone wild.
"Because I... I want a piece of you with me always."
He closes his eyes and drops his head. My eyes start to water but I hold them back the best I can.
"Y/n." He shakes his head but to my surprise, he hesitantly places his left hand on my thigh, his fingers dangerously close to the spot I've imagined him touching a million times. The feel of his rough fingers on my bare skin ignites a flame in me I didn't know existed and all I do is stare at his hand.
"Relax." He rolls his eyes and starts the gun. He leans down closer and begins tattooing me.
I have to bite back the moan threatening to escape my lips. With Ruby.. it hurt. But with Negan, it.. almost feels good.
He glances up at me as if he can hear my thoughts and then goes back to gliding a straight line of ink across my skin.
The next few moments are spent in silence, with nothing but the sounds of the tattoo gun and music playing in the distance.
"Fuck, y/n. I'm gonna need these off so I can get to you better." He gestures at my shorts.
My eyes widen but I nod and slide them off, barely breathing now that I'm laying in front of Negan in just my underwear. The way his jaw ticks when he sees that I'm wearing red lace panties doesn't go unnoticed. His favorite color.
He places his hand back on my leg, this time with his fingers completely against my inner thigh. I slightly part my legs without thinking and he pauses to glance at me before continuing with the tattoo.
If he moved his finger half an inch upwards, he would be touching me.
"I never knew you worked at a tattoo shop." I break the silence, hoping to get my mind off his hand.
He chuckles. "I own it, darlin'. And there's a lot you don't know about me."
Another long pause happens before he speaks first this time.
"Why did you take art, y/n?"
"Uh.. I dunno, because I liked it."
He huffs out a laugh. "You liked it... or me?"
I shrug. "Both."
His face turns serious again and he stops the tattoo gun. "All done."
He backs away and motions for me to stand up and look in the mirror in the corner. I stand in front of it, but don't even notice my tattoo because my eyes catch Negan in the mirror staring at my ass. These panties don't leave much to the imagination and my cheeks redden at how much I'm exposed to him.
He suddenly looks up and makes eye contact with me in the mirror. His eyes are darker than usual and filled with lust.
"Come here." He demands and I obey, walking towards him.
Once I'm standing in front of him, he lifts his hands to grab my hips. My belly button is eye level to him and I look down, watching him intensely. His thumbs dig into my hips and he looks at the tattoo.
"Do you like it?" I ask him.
He ignores me and it makes my heart break a little more. "Lay back down, y/n." He gets up to pull the curtain over the entrance of the room.
I do as he says and he comes back, placing a clear tape bandage over the fresh tattoo.
He looks as if he's deep in thought before suddenly sliding his hands underneath my thighs and pulling me closer to him. He pushes my leg aside and rests my other foot in his lap until my legs are completely spread apart in front of him.
"You want me to touch you, y/n? Is that what you want?"
"Yes.."
"Tell me what you want, baby."
"Your mouth."
He chuckles darkly and kisses the inside of my thigh before sliding his fingers under my panties and ripping them apart.
He shoves them in the back of his jean pocket and wraps his arms around my thighs, holding my stomach down with his hands and leaning his head down closer.
"Look at this pretty pussy, baby. So wet for me you're glistening."
His eyes look up at me right before he licks me and my head falls back with pleasure.
He stops suddenly. "Eyes on me, darlin'. How many times have you imagined me between your legs? You're going to watch me eat this pussy, y/n."
I nod, looking at him and he continues. The sound of other people talking in the distance makes my senses even more heightened.
He licks me again, pressing his tongue into me harder this time. He moans as he stops at my clit and gently sucks it into his mouth. I moan and watch him as he looks like he's eating the best meal he's ever had.
"You taste even better than I imagined, baby."
"You.. imagined it?"
"Baby. You aren't the only one who daydreams in class." He says before dipping his tongue deep inside me.
He switches back and forth between licking me and sucking me until my moans get louder and faster.
"Negan, I'm gonna.."
"I know baby, give it to me." He rubs me with his tongue faster until I'm coming apart. His hand quickly covers my mouth and I cry out into his hand.
"Fuck, doll." He groans and adjusts himself through his jeans. "This pussy is about to make me cum in my pants like I'm a fucking teenager again."
"Negan.." I say out of breath. "I wanna touch you. Please."
He stands and picks up my shorts, but not before I see the huge bulge in his pants. He helps me put my shorts on and I look at him confused when he doesn't say anything.
"Nega-"
"No, y/n."
My eyes water with tears as I stand to finish pulling my shorts up. "I - I don't understand."
"This can't happen, baby. I shouldn't have touched you."
I nod. "So that's it, Negan? You get what you want and that's it.. you're just.. done with me?"
"Are you fucking serious? You think I got what I wanted? I'm standing here with a hard-on that's gonna give me a giant case of blue balls. Any other man would throw you on this table and take you right here."
"Then why don't you?!"
"Because I fucking.. I care about you. You happy now? I fucking CARE ABOUT YOU, y/n. And I'm not going to break your heart."
I wipe a tear that runs down my cheek. "You already did." I grab my purse and rush out of the room, stopping in front of Ruby on the way out and pulling out some cash.
"I'm sorry hun." She says empathetically as if she heard everything that just happened.
I cry harder and lay the cash down before leaving and walking to my car. Before I can open my car door, Negan is grabbing my arm and turning me around to face him.
"Goddamn it, listen to me!"
I don't fight him, I just stare at him, noting the hurt in his eyes. My heart hurts and I suddenly feel guilty for making him feel any ounce of pain.
"Y/n.. look.."
"No." I cut him off. "Negan, I'm sorry. This is my fault.. I put you in this situation because I was selfish.. and delusional. I'm so sorry. I'll leave, and you won't have to hear from me or see me again."
He scoffs. "You think that's what I want? I guess you don't know me the way I thought you did."
Before I can say anything else, he crashes his lips to mine and kisses me so hard and but so softly at the same time. His fingers slip through my hair and his hand rests on the back of my neck as he deepens our kiss.
"You're gonna be the death of me, kid."
I bite his lip hard when he calls me kid and our kiss goes from passionate to animalistic. He presses himself flat against me with my back against my car and I feel his hard cock straining against his jeans. His lips travel to my neck and he bites me hard, right before kissing and sucking the sensitive spot.
That's definitely going to leave a mark.
"You have no clue what you do to me, baby." He says in between kisses. His voice is raspier and deeper than usual. "Do you have any idea how many times I've left work and had to rub one out at the thought of you? Hell, sometimes even at work."
I look around the parking lot. It's nighttime but we're still clearly visible in the lights.
"Look at me, y/n. Forget where we are and just focus on me baby." His hand slips into my shorts and it takes him no time to find my soaked entrance since my panties are currently in his back pocket.
"Negan.." I breathe.
He smiles against my lips. "Baby.. You sure this is what you want? Because once I've had you, you're mine."
I nod and he puts his mouth next to my ear.
"Take your shorts off. Now." He pulls his hand from my shorts and sucks my juices off his fingers.
"But, Negan, we're-"
"I said, now y/n. You want me so bad, you're gonna get me wherever and however I say. Now, take your fucking shorts off before I rip them too."
I hesitantly slide my shorts off while looking around again. There aren't any other cars in the parking lot other than a couple of his employees. All the customers left. There's a main road up ahead but we're far enough away where they wouldn't see us unless they we're staring really hard.
"Good girl. Now take my cock out, baby."
He leans his hands against my car on either side of me, trapping me in. I waste no time reaching for the button on his jeans and unzipping him before pulling out his hard, huge cock. It's bigger than I imagined.. a lot bigger. I don't know how that thing is going to even fit in me. He's so hard that the veins in his cock look like they are about to erupt and his tip is already dripping with precum.
I can't help but run my thumb over the tip to collect some and bring it to my mouth to taste him. His eyes darken with lust at the sight of me sucking his precum off my finger.
"Taste good, doll?"
I nod and he chuckles. "There's a lot more where that came from."
He grips the back of my thigh with his hand and pulls my right leg around his waist.
The feeling of his dick rubbing against my wet pussy is enough to make my knees weak. Literally. I almost collapse at the sensation of him rubbing the head against my opening, teasing me. He presses his body closer to me in attempt to hold me up.
"Fuck, look at this dripping pussy." He looks down between us, admiring the view of his cock teasing my wet slit. "It's about to be dripping with my cum in a few minutes.. You ready for me, baby?"
"Yes, please. I need you."
He enters me completely in one swift motion, not giving me anytime to adjust. My walls are stretched further than they've ever been and it feels like the tip of him is buried up to my stomach.
He doesn't move for a moment, but instead looks into my eyes with his cock all the way inside of me. "There you go, baby. Finally getting what you wanted after all these years and taking my dick like a champ."
"Negan.." I moan. "Please.. just fuck me."
He pulls out of me almost completely before slowly pushing himself back in, agonizingly slow. Our bodies are flush against each other and he kisses me again.
"Fuck, baby." He growls. "You. Feel. So. Fucking GOOD." He says between thrusts as my mouth falls open.
I wrap my arms around his neck to hold myself up and lean against him with my lips pressed against his neck. I take the opportunity to mark him back, grabbing his skin between my teeth and sucking hard. He moans so loud that I glance around to make sure no one heard him, but we're still alone.
His thrusts get harder and faster and the sounds coming from his sexy mouth are enough alone to make me cum.
"Look at me, y/n. I want to see your face when you cum all over my cock."
His hand that was on the car behind me slides between us, instantly finding my clit. He begins rubbing circles on it with his middle finger while thrusting his hips into me faster.
I look into his eyes while my arms are still wrapped around his shoulders tightly, keeping me in place. My fingers run through his dark hair and my breathing goes erratic as I feel myself come undone around him.
"You want me to fill you up, baby? You want daddy's cum?"
I nod quickly as tears run down my cheeks from the most intense orgasm I've ever had.
"FUCK, baby." He groans and slams his mouth against mine. I kiss him back as he rides out his orgasm.
He pulls out of me slowly and softly kisses my lips one more time. I go to put my shorts on and he stops me.
"Not so fast, doll." He gets down on his knees in front of me, pushing my legs apart in front of him. "Push daddy's cum out baby. Let me see it drip out of you."
I do as he says and the feeling of his warm seed running down my legs is almost enough to send me over the edge again.
"Look. At. THAT." He swipes up some of his cum from my leg onto his finger and stands back up but not before gently kissing my new tattoo.
I think I love this man.
He rubs his finger along my lips until my mouth opens for him. I suck his fingers clean and moan at the taste of him.
"Y/n." He pushes my hair behind my ear and looks at me seriously. "I meant it when I said I care about you."
"You care about all your students."
"Yeah, but I don't go sticking my dick in them." He smirks and takes my hand, leading me back into the shop.
The others must have already left when - when.. oh.. shit.
"Negan, do you think they saw us?!"
"Well darlin', I was fucking your brains out right next to the door, so I think it's probably safe to assume so." He grins and my eyes widen with horror.
"Do you not care?"
"What can they do, doll? Fire me?" He laughs and leads me to the back where his office is.
"What are we doing in here?"
"Getting matching tattoos, of course."
I stare at him, trying to register what he just said. "You're.. going to give yourself a tattoo?"
He chuckles and hands me a tattoo gun before taking off his shirt and sitting on the couch in the corner.
"No, doll, you are."
The Enddd.
Part 2 or nah?
649 notes · View notes
ryndicate · 1 year
Text
Seal It With a Kiss ⨳ Kishibe
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"You want me to do this for you? Then tell me exactly what it is that you want."
notes: I came up with this idea for @akiniku back in like september when i was just beginning to sniff around the csm fandom for a favorite. Dom told me all about him and i fell in love and came up with this plot and *then* I read csm lol. 6+ months later, here we are T-T thanks to @cyancherub for reading through his characterization for me and for my past and future beta readers<3 (i know some of you havent gotten the chance i was just too excited) Idon’t know if i will ever be able to put as much love into a Kishibe fic ever again so lets try to appreciate this
warnings: female reader, longer than a drabble, alcohol, virginity loss + inexperienced reader, creampie, emotional manipulation, coercion but there's consent, age gap (like 30 years between them, fight me), trainee/mentor relationship, twisted savior complex, canonverse, piss (more about control than it is the kink)
Rules/BYF/DNI
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Kishibe sighs. “That’s it for today.”
“Already?” You puff, sweat dripping down your temples, your blade lowering until the tip is pointing to the ground. “I could keep going.”
He sighs again, resisting the urge to rub the approaching headache from his temple. Kishibe will never understand the PSDH’s insistence of sending him all of their potentials. Their screening is usually decent enough to keep this type of student from beneath his weathered wings, but every now and then one will slip through. One like you. Earnest, hopeful, and far too willing to do the job. This ain’t the place for you, never will be. They set you loose on the streets and you’ll be some Devil’s next meal. 
But it’s not his place to care. Not supposed to be at least. Makima won’t even tell him which Devils you have contracts with—but again, he doesn't care.
Kishibe ignores your mumbled complaints about cutting your training short, sighing under his breath. “Gonna need’a drink after this.”
He’s unprepared for you to pop up at his side, tilting your head as you ask if you can come with him.
“Why?”
The question seems to put you off. “Isn’t it good manners to take your juniors out after a hard day?” 
Kishibe huffs at your coy tone, certain you’re just after a free meal. “That’s for juniors who’ve proven they earned it.”
That seems to put you off even more. “You don’t think I’ve earned it?”
“No.” His answer is short, clipped. Dark eyes watch intently as you deflate a little, that perpetually cheerful expression drooping into something he ultimately decides is an unsettling expression on a face like yours. He doesn’t care for it, unable to decide why. 
“How’s this?” He grunts, pulling a cigarette from his pack and lighting up. “I’ll give ya a week.”
“A week for what? You're not supposed to smoke inside, you know.” A sulky tone meets Kishibe’s ears, your eyes tracking his lips and the flare of the cherry as he inhales.
He ignores the snipe. “You get close enough to me to take one of these away—” a twitch of his fingers has flaky ash fluttering to the linoleum, “—and I’ll take you out for drinks. That’s how you earn it.”
The sparkle is back in your eyes in an instant. Your sword tips back into its sheath, coming up on his left to give him a smile. "You got it, sir! You'll never smoke again. Just watch."
Kishibe rolls a shoulder, suppressing a groan at your chipper attitude. I'm getting too old for this shit. "We'll see about that, sweetheart."
He's ignorant to the way the words make you pause, moving for the door, ready to get in his car and drive to his regular dive bar. He needs the silence of the drive before he drowns himself for the night. Well, not so much silence as the rattling heating unit, the rush of passing cars, and music so quiet one might question why it’s even on. It’s simply the beginning step of the ritual he’s come to find most comforting, or numbing, on this job. 
"See you tomorrow, sir?"
“Yeah.” He doesn’t even bother glancing back as the door closes behind him. 
The autumn air clears his head a little as he finally escapes the hallways of the office. A cold breeze whips at his hair, bringing old scars and memories to mind as it bites at his skin. Kishibe takes a final drag of his cigarette and lets it fall to the pavement. He doesn’t stub it out, pulling out the collar of his jacket to fight the chill as he disappears into the evening crowd.
“That is not how this works.”
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“There’s no way this doesn’t count!”
“Give them back.”
“I said you’d never smoke again, didn’t I? I didn’t think you of all people would want me to go back on my word.”
Kishibe takes a careful inhale through his nose, closing his eyes for a beat and convincing himself he won’t kill any of his trainees. He’s sent you to infirmiry more times than he cares to count with these training sessions, to bring home the apparently wavering point on your young dumb invicibility complex, but he knows where the line is. So when he opens them, Kishibe fixes you with the same intent stare that usually gets his subordinates to straighten up, or clingy women out of his apartment. Dark, unimpressed, unwavering.
You are painfully undeterred.
“I had to get close enough to take them from you. That’s what you said.” You stand in front of him, at a regrettably smart distance, looking mighty proud of yourself as you clutch the worn white box carefully in your fist. After five straight days of utter and total defeat, you’d made your move on the car ride over this morning instead. 
“I said one, not the pack,” Kishibe drawls. “And you know damn well that ain’t the point here. Nickin' them from the car is not the same.”
You shrug, a familiar petulance beginning to saturate your tone. “Not my fault you weren’t paying attention. You said that kills people.”
Unprepared for the—still a smartass answer but—wisdom of your words, some of the intensity dissolves from his eyes. As if he really needed that reminder. He still has his doubts. 
“No arguing that,” Kishibe sighs, scratching his neck. “Guess you get what you wanted. Drinks on me tonight.”
A triumphant smile brightens your face, but it doesn’t last. The barest moment later you find yourself flat on your back on the training facility’s floor, groaning at the impact. 
Kishibe flicks his lighter, sparking his cigarette and taking a grateful inhale of sweet nicotine as he stands over you, impassive.
“But I’m still gonna make you earn it, sweetheart. Getting overconfident and lettin’ down your guard also kills people. Get up and block me next time.”
“Yes, sir."
He might have been harsher on you today than entirely warranted as he watches you wince and shift, trying to get comfortable in the weathered booth of his usual bar. But really, to go any easier on you would do you a disservice if you really are this hellbent on working in public safety. Part of Kishibe is hoping one training session—and soon—he’ll find your limit and you’ll realize you aren’t making the cut. At the very least he’d like you to settle for the civilian sector. Hell, Kishibe despises paperwork but he'd write your damn recommendation.
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You’re peering around the dimly lit space. It's hazy with smoke, with a scent to match. He probably could have taken you somewhere nicer, but he really didn’t want to stray too far from his own comfort zone, so what the hell. This was your own idea anyways. 
“Are you even old enough to be in here?” Kishibe asks suddenly, catching the eye of the bartender and tipping his head. 
“I came of age a couple months ago.”
Kishibe cringes inwardly at your prideful tone. Fucking great. He eyes you as the bartender begins to edge out from behind the counter, watching as you glance around a little frantically for a menu. Shoddy place like this doesn’t really have one. 
Kishibe gestures between the two of you before the man has to cross the bar completely. “My usual. Double for me.”
"What's your usual?" You ask curiously. 
"Whiskey. Nothing fancy, just cheap and strong." 
"Oh."
The glasses are placed in front of you and you give what Kishibe sees as an awkward smile at the bartender as your fingers wrap around the glass. He takes a grateful gulp, unable to help but notice you haven't made a move with your own. 
"Not to your taste?"
"I don't know," you answer plainly, tilting the short glass and letting the amber liquid catch the light. "Never had it."
"Never had whiskey?" Kishibe hums, bored, taking another drink. The double is going fast. The familiar warmth has already settled in his chest, an old comfort. 
"Never had alcohol."
Sucker punched with that information, Kishibe pauses and swallows the last of his glass before setting it down and signaling for a refill. He's far too practised to waste a drop of a drink he's paying for.
"Why are we here?" It's a shrewd question, a shrewd tone. "If you've never had alcohol, why were you so insistent on going out for drinks? Isn't that something you do with your friends?"
Your fingers tighten on the glass, a small pout forming on your lips. "Didn’t wanna do this with friends. Wanted my first drink to be with you, s-sir." Embarrassment coats your features as your words stumble off at the end, and you return to examining your still untouched drink.
Kishibe's refill arrives, another heaven sent double. He's getting the faint inkling that something else is happening here and he's far too tired to pick the answers out of you.
"Lemme get this straight," he drawls, leaning forward and jabbing a finger at you over the rim of his glass before bringing it to his lips. "You wanted your first drink out with a tired old man instead of your friends?"
"You're not tired!" 
Your tone is scandalized, pitch rising high enough that it catches the attention of some other men seated nearby. The last thing he needs.
Kishibe scoffs, scar twitching as he fights a sardonic smirk. "Beg to differ sweetheart."
"You're not, you…you're—" your volume is back to normal, seemingly struggling with your words, and it's amusing if not slightly endearing. 
"Lemme know when you think of something, I'll be here," Kishibe mumbles, drinking again, content to watch you squirm. "You gonna take that first drink? You got me here, like you wanted. Might as well."
That small smirk finally fights its way onto his lips as you give him the barest of glares. He usually doesn't see that look on you until you've gone an entire session without landing a single hit. It's cute. 
"You're you. Don't gotta 'splain myself to you," you grumble, timidly lifting the glass to your lips.
"No, you don't," Kishibe rumbles in agreement, watching as you take your first swallow. 
To your merit you don't splutter or cough, but a grimace splinters across your expression as you swallow and stare down at the glass in mild disbelief. 
"This sucks," you announce firmly.
Kishibe barks out a short laugh and finishes his second drink. "I'll order ya something else."
He's reaching for your glass when you snatch it away from him. 
"No, I'll finish it. This is what you usually get?"
"Yeah. But take it easy, that's a—" Kishibe stares, a little defeated as you down the glass. "Tha'sa sippin' whiskey."
"What's that mean?" You croak out, your face scrunching up despite your efforts.
"It means you're getting a glass of water before I get you anythin' else."
"Why?"
You'll thank me in the morning, Kishibe thinks grimly, not deigning to answer. Along with the next few rounds and the rounds after that, he also orders your water and some food, feeling abnormally generous. Maybe he just doesn’t want to deal with your grumbling tomorrow at training. 
He can’t stop thinking how strange this is. It’s strange. You’re here in his usual booth, humming an odd tune while drinking his usual whiskey, when he’s here each night, usually alone. Kishibe feels the deep disturbance all the way to his roots, gnarled and twisted as they are. 
Watching your face twist up at the taste again, Kishibe decides to slow down with some soju instead. Your eyes are getting blurry and your hands have settled into some kind of nervous habit, picking at the edge of the table as you try not to look at him. He doesn't understand your insistence here. Here at the bar, or anything else. 
"Why are you doin' this?" He asks again, quiet.
You glance at him, blinking slowly as your gaze struggles to focus. Then you force a smile, sweet and pure as a Devil's heart. It's damn near chilling to see. 
"'Cause I want to, sir."
"Bullshit." He's looked into you. Your family is alive, financially stable. You're not like most rookies joining up for the pay or the revenge. And from being around you he figures you aren't the type to do this for status. So it doesn't make sense. 
Your smile fades. "What do you mean?"
"Exactly what I said. You're not cut out for this shit, kiddo. An' I think ya know it, too."
"It's my first night out drinking, how can you tell?"
"Don't play coy with me."
You stand sharply, unsteady, a look crossing your face that Kishibe can't read. Before he can speak again, you're sliding into the booth on his side. 
"Then ask me directly, sir." You whisper, trying valiantly to meet his harsh stare, before eventually losing your nerve and fixing your gaze on the table. 
Like Kishibe has any problem being direct. Fine then. He sets his glass down and turns his body to face you. "Why're ya training so damn hard to become a Devil Hunter when it's just gonna get you killed?"
Cheeks warming, you don't look at him again. "Every Hunter has their reason, or else they wouldn't be here. We don't gotta share them unless we want to."
Your words are halting, and slurred. Kishibe pushes your drink out of reach. A fifth of whiskey and bottle of soju between you both for your first night out was an oversight on his part, even if he had more than you. 
"And you're not goin' to tell me?"
Head dropping into your palm, eyelashes fluttering, you peek up at him. "Not unless you can tell me why you care."
Kishibe pauses. He's got plenty of reasons, but he's not uncouth enough to say them to you. 'Cause he doesn't want to be wasting his time prepping meat for the chopping block. 'Cause booze is expensive and sleep is precious. He doesn't get enough as it is and he's sick at the idea of losing more. 'Cause every time one of his trainees dies, it feels like a new scar cracks its way across the already trampled fragments of his soul. 
There's plenty of reasons he drinks himself nearly dead every night. 
Your fuzzy eyes peer into his darkened ones and seemingly run into the wall that you know he's put up. "Then it's better you don't ask, sir. It’s important to me, that’s all you need’ta know."
So much for direct.
There's a silence at the table after Kishibe gruffly orders another drink, his mood for the night officially ruined. This is why he doesn't socialize with coworkers. Save people by day, check out at night. He lives for one fleeting peace; he'd rather be drowning in booze and laid up in the arms of whatever woman will put up with him.
And all he has right now is booze. He flags the barkeep. "Bottle for the road."
You shift to look at him. "Are we leaving already?"
"Yeah. You've had plenty."
There's no complaint, but there's no mistaking the look of disappointment on your face as he takes your arm and helps haul you to your wobbly feet.
"What's that look for?"
"I was having fun, sir."
"Stop calling me sir."
"Why?"
"Cause we're at a fucking bar. Sir is for work."
"Then what am I supposed to call you?"
"Just Kishibe."
He finally looks at you again and you're smiling and this time there's nothing to be unsettled about. "No honorific? You'll let me call you by name?"
"It's sir at work," Kishibe reminds, deadpan.
“And master in front of other hunters, I know,” you parrot cheekily, and Kishibe merely curls his lips in a temporary smirk.
“Damn right.”
"But not at work?" You prod, leaning into his frame heavily as the cold night air washes away the warmth of the bar.
"Then yeah, drop the honorific."
"Kishibe." His name leaves your lips as a wonder-filled giggle. The corner of his lip tugs further upward unwittingly in dry amusement. At least someone can salvage the mood for the night. 
You poke at the bottle held loosely in his grip. "Can I have some of that?"
He passes it to you. "You don't even like the stuff."
An impressive amount of the amber liquid disappears down your throat before you groan in disgust and pass it back to him. "Sometimes we do stuff we don't like 'cause we get something out of it."
Kishibe hums at that. "And what do you get out of it?"
"'S a secret."
"A secret, huh? You seem to have a lot of those." He drawls, keeping you upright when you almost fall again. Yeah, he needs to find you a taxi or something. Neither of you are driving tonight. It's a little annoying, he meant to stop at the convenience store to get another pack of cigs before going home tonight. The crumpled empty pack is still in his pocket—he hasn't had one since this morning and Kishibe can feel the irritation in his nerves. 
"What's your address kid?" He nudges you as the taxi pulls up, but your weight against his hip suddenly feels dead. "Are you—of course you are."
Kishibe's whole chest fills with his next sigh, and he quietly works to get you into the cab. The driver asks him where they're going and he actually has to think about it for a moment. He'd much rather prefer going back to his cozy little hideout, but it's a mess and much too small. Not to mention he absolutely does not want you knowing where it is.
Closing his eyes, Kishibe reluctantly mumbles out an address, and sinks even deeper into his bottle before the cab drops them off at the requested location.
He eyes you over as the elevator quietly ascends, one arm around your waist with yours around his shoulder to bear your weight. It's really no wonder you passed out, the scent of whiskey is just about crawling out of your pores. Between the two of you, Kishibe bets the elevator smells like a distillery.
The doors open into his “apartment”. 
He doesn't like sleeping here. The place is too big, ceilings too high, furniture too fancy. All those high windows and modern grays and whites. It's perfectly clean and perfectly lifeless, set up for him by the PSDH. He's sure some bright-eyed big shot hunter in it for the money and high living would get a kick out of the place, but for a man like him the space is just obnoxious. But since his studio isn't an option, and Kishibe can't be bothered with taking you to a hotel, he figures you'd rather prefer one of his guest rooms instead. 
Kishibe flinches and grumbles under his breath as the now empty bottle slips from his hand and clatters to the hardwood. You make a rather undignified snort as you startle to awareness. If one could call it that.
“Wha—” Your fingers cling to the sleeve of his jacket as you blink through the blur of your eyesight, struggling to find your footing. “Where’re we now?”
“My place.”
“You live here?” 
“Technically.”
He hauls you towards the kitchen, somewhat a struggle with your uninhibited desire to swivel your head and scan the place as thoroughly as you were presently capable of doing.
“Not what I pictured.” You wobble and right yourself, slumping against the marble countertop. Kishibe pauses, making sure you’re gonna make a dive for his floor before he turns to pull open the fridge.
“Yeah well, me neither.”
“It’s so clean.” That earns you a grunt. “And modern.”
“You tryin’ to say something, sweetheart?” He sends you a look that sends a hot wave of embarrassment across your face.
“No! ‘M just sayin’...”
“Yeah, whatever. Here.”
You take the water bottle he pushes into your hands and open it, halfheartedly taking a few sips to ease the simmer in your cheeks.
Kishibe snorts when you put it down. “Nuh uh, finish that.”
You take another sip, trying to placate him. “‘M not thirsty though.” 
Your eyes widen as he grumbles and steps closer, dark eyes narrowed. It’s impossible to muffle the noise of complaint on your lips as he tips the water bottle back, keeping your chin up with an uncompromising strength. "Tough. I said all of it."
The rough pads of his thumbs feel like fire on your jaw and he seems to have no idea how his proximity is setting you ablaze. You quickly swallow before you choke, or worse spill down your chin like a child. He doesn’t let go until you’ve finished the bottle—it’s impossible not to gasp for air as if you’ve breached the surface of a pool for the first time in minutes.
“Pretty good lungs.”
“I almost died—!” You wheeze, unappreciative of the joke, wiping your face with your arm.
“You were gonna be dead in the morning if you didn’t. Might as well get it over with.” Kishibe sets the empty bottle on the counter, unflappable.
“Hmph.”
You watch curiously as he grabs himself some water, noticing with a scowl that he doesn’t drink nearly as much as he forced on you. He reaches for a small bottle, rattling as he shakes a couple into his palm. “You’re not supposed to take those with alcohol.”
Kishibe gives you a dry look and pops the painkillers into his mouth. He can feel his head pounding already, his routine thoroughly interrupted. He can’t mentally check out with you still here, especially in this state. You look a little more solid now compared to your unconscious slump, but you’re still visibly swaying, blurred eyes drifting in and out of focus. Last thing he needs is for you to do something to yourself when he’s around. The paperwork for that would be the death of him.
He shrugs and nods for you to follow. “C’mon, sweetheart.”
You suddenly look nervous. “C’mon where?”
“Night’s over. Time for bed.”
You produce a shaky laugh. “What?”
Sweet fuck.
“You want a bed or the couch?” Kishibe takes applaudable effort to keep the exhaustion out of his tone. Honestly, you'd probably be better off with the couch, grateful for your mumbled little ‘doesn’t matter to me’. He's not sure of the state of any of the rooms, considering he's trashed them before. Whoever set the place up for him might have a cleaning service but he's never bothered to ask about it since he’s never here. “There’s blankets around here somewhere.”
Stepping into the living room he sees he’s right, a couple of soft looking throws draped over the back of a plush black sectional. You’re trailing close behind him, like you’ll get lost if you lose sight of him. 
“Sit.” Kishibe says tiredly as you circle around the edge of the sectional, looking around curiously.
You listen and he grabs the other blanket off the far arm of the couch, tossing it and one of the pillows towards where you’re sitting. The pillow lands at your side, the blanket haphazardly in your lap, are you’re just staring at him as he settles on the other side, shrugging out of his suit jacket and letting that fall to the floor.
“Get comfortable, go to sleep,” Kishibe grunts, closing his eyes.
“You’re staying in here?”
He doesn’t read into the tone of your voice, keeping his eyes shut. “Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t choke on your own puke in your sleep.”
“‘M not gonna puke,” you grumble under your breath.
Kishibe wills in a sigh, listening to the rustle of blankets and what he assumes is you settling down. Only to tense as the cushion near him dips under weight. He opens his eyes to see you sitting you next to him and his eyes sharpen.
You cut him off, seeming to sense whatever biting remark is coming. “I’m not tired. Not good at sleeping in new spaces.”
“Well you need’ta try.”
“Can we just talk for a bit?”
He sighs, but he doesn’t refute you, opening his eyes to give you a quiet stare. “Fine. What do you want to talk about?”
Relying heavily on the lingering alcohol in your veins to gather the nerve, you scooch closer to his position on the couch, dragging the blanket with you. “You’ve really never had anyone over here? But Himeno says you never spend your nights alone.”
Kishibe eyes you warily as you enter what he considers his field of personal space, your knees barely brushing against his thighs. “I don’t normally spend my nights here. And you can tell Himeno she’s got better things t’do than gossip about my personal life.”
“So you spend the night at their place then?”
“Sometimes.”
“Are you really the womanizer everyone says you are?”
Kishibe glances up to see you even closer and shifts a little to give you a measured look, eyelids drooping in suspicion. “You really want the truth of that?”
“Yeah, ‘m hoping to hear something,” you murmur, heart racing as you place a hand on his abdomen. It stiffens under your touch, but he makes no move to stop you, so you toy with the button of his shirt. 
“And what’s that exactly?” Shock receding, his mind catches up and he grabs your hand, keeping it from tracing its upward path.
“There’s something I’m hoping you can help me with, sir.”
“Kishibe.”
“Kishibe,” you correct, cheeks warming as you finally raise your eyes from his chest to look into his own. He’s watching you so closely that you almost look away again, almost chickening out. 
His eyes are locked onto the way you’re chewing at your lip, waiting for you to say something more, hoping for anything that makes sense. When you don’t his patience thins enough to ask, “Well?”
“I-um,” you hesitate before your fingers curl into his shirt, mentally fortifying yourself, “I’ve never… I’m looking for someone experienced to- to help me. I want it to be you.”
There's a small pause as his whiskey-addled mind filters out the meaning of your words. Then, a small disbelieving smirk is half-formed on his lips when he scoffs out a laugh. “Ha, no, sweetheart. No, I don’t think so.”
He’s shifting to stand up off the couch when you panic. You’ve gotten this far! He has to hear you out, or you’ll never be able to look him in the eye again, let alone train under him. So before he can, you throw your thigh over his lap, straddling him. His hands flash to your arms in an iron grip, keeping your hands from wandering any further. He’s staring at you in muted disbelief, tense, as if he can’t quite believe you’re defying him. 
“Please wait,” your voice raises in pitch, but you’re almost whispering. “I can explain, please just listen.”
“What? Cute little student girl got the hots for teacher? Or are you desperately in love with me now, and can’t bear the thought of anyone else sullying your innocence?” he drawls out, the insanity of this situation finally allowing him to release the floodgates on all the ill manner he’s been attempting to keep back all night. 
Your face might as well be a space heater as you splutter in mortification at being seen through so easily, trying to find the words to refute him. “N-no! No, I wasn’t. That’s… That’s not…”
“You better clear this up real quick then, sweets, cause you don’t have long before I take it into my own hands,” Kishibe warns lowly, soft and dangerous, seconds from calling a cab to get you miles away from his apartment, and more importantly him. 
The hard-eyed stare he’s giving you now is nothing like the way he looks at you in training. Your heart sinks into your stomach at the thought that entertaining your feelings is enough to make him react this way, turning him into this colder version of himself that you barely recognize. This is not going the way you intended, but you can’t imagine that you’ll ever be in a situation like this ever again, so you take a deep breath and clear your expression of all deceit. “It’s not like that, but I really can’t think of anyone else to help me with this. It’s not for lack of trying.”
Kishibe eyes you, his grip on your arms not slacking. You glance down at him warily, and he’s like a bristling cat that’s making an attempt at trust. 
“So…? Will you help me?”
He mumbles eventually, still tense, “Why not Hayakawa? Or one of the other rookies, they’re probably better suited.”
You make a face. “The rookies are stupid, and Hayakawa-san is just too… stern.”
“I’m not stern?”
“That’s not the point!” You retort hotly. “Hayakawa just seems more like someone who isn’t interested in casual flings—”
“And that’s what you’re looking for here?” Kishibe cuts in drily, noting the way your mouth snaps shut. You shift awkwardly in his lap and he stoutly blames his nightly routine for the way his body is sluggishly perking to life. He might have the heart of a saint, but his mind is more like a devil’s… and he has eyes.
Oblivious to his internalizations, you grimace. You don't want casual anything so it's technically a point in Hayakawa's favor. But there's one big point in the younger man's (begrudgingly small) list of cons that can't be overlooked: he's not Kishibe.
“I’m looking for someone who knows what they’re doing,” you inform him, your voice softening. There’s a sort of vulnerability to you now that has the older man caving despite himself and listening more intently, watching you whiplash between assertive and shy for the nth time. “Someone I trust, who won’t take advantage of me. And… I don’t believe the whole sacred virginity schtick, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want my first time to be… I don’t know, special?”
Kishibe’s mouth runs dry, and this time he blames the alcohol. “This isn’t a good idea.”
“Don’t say that,” you plead softly, leaning closer without thinking in your excitement. That wasn’t a refusal. “It doesn’t have to be a big deal, I don’t have anyone else to ask.”
He can feel your breath on his cheeks, his eyes bouncing between your lips and eyes for a moment before humming low. “No one else? A girl like you, having to settle for an old man like me?”
"No one has to know. Please, sir?" You plead quietly, with crystal notes of sincerity. It's a painfully sweet sound.
Kishibe reluctantly lets your arms slip from his hands and drops his own to loosely grip your waist, absently drawing a pattern on your hip with one finger. The heat of your body is filtering so thick through your clothes that he doesn't know how he didn't notice it until now. You shiver at his touch, and he tries to keep his expression neutral when you instinctively grab at his shoulders.
He shouldn't be considering this for even a second, but he is and he hates himself for it. You're a young pretty thing, and he's made a point to stop looking at young pretty things the way your touch is sparking him to, for going on years now. 
Carefully, one hand moves to rest on your stomach, caressing its way up over your covered chest, eliciting a soft gasp from you before it moves on and settles under your chin, firmly tugging it down to make sure you're looking at him. He's never cared for the way you can't look him in the eye, and he normally lets it go but he won't tolerate it tonight. If he goes through with this, that is.
Your eyes are wide, and glazed in a way that has nothing to do with alcohol for the first time tonight. Kishibe makes a low sound in his throat at the sight of it before speaking, a heavy, rumbling tone meant to ensure you're taking in every word. 
"You want me to do this for you?"
"Yes." Your breath catches as you damn near breathe the word out, your heart in your throat and a flutter in your stomach that makes you feel like you might fly away.
"Then tell me exactly what it is that you want." Fuck, he’s really doing this.
"I…" The hesitation must be clear on your face because his expression gets heated, a tiny smirk forming at the corner of his lips. You wouldn't have seen it at all if you weren't staring at them so hard. A quiet moan spills from your lips as he presses them to your jaw, not quite kissing, but dragging them up, warm breath tickling your ear. The center of your world quakes as he continues with that low, soul-quaking tone.
"Do you want me to treat you like a princess? Worship your body and make it all about you, take you to another world as I take you apart?" Kishibe marvels at the broken whimper you make as he grazes his teeth across your earlobe. "Or do you want me to be a little selfish? Show you pleasure as I know it, and change everything you think you know about carnal desire?" 
"Sir—"
"No," he warns severely, gripping your thigh in warning, pulling back to look you in the eye. 
"Kishibe," you correct yourself with a breathy whine that you hope doesn’t sound ridiculous. "Kishibe, I want you to choose."
"You want me to choose?"
"Th-that's why I chose you. You always- always know what's best."
That's so far from true, but in this realm of possibility, with you blinking those sweet little doe eyes down at him, Kishibe won't be the one to correct you. "...Alright."
"Then please take care of me." Please.
This time it's him who shudders. "Alright," he murmurs again, "Alright, sweetheart. I've got you."
He’s a little gentler this time as he tugs your chin down to him, meeting your lips in a delicate kiss that has all his nerves standing to attention in a way he hasn’t felt in a long time. With other women, he has no reason to be slow or gentle. With other women, both parties know what they’re there for, but this isn’t like that. You aren’t like that. You’re young, and if you’re to be believed, untouched. Pure. And you’ve put yourself in his care, begging for him to remove that purity. He’s not sure he ever would have agreed to this if he were sober, so you lucked out. Or maybe this is what you wanted all along.
Kishibe groans softly as you timidly move to respond to his kiss, alcohol sweet on your breath. You at least seem to know what to do here, parting your lips and staying pliant as he learns how you taste, moving your tongue against his as he explores your mouth. He breaks for a moment, giving you a warning and enough time to stop him, tugging at the hem of your shirt. “I’m taking this off now.”
He waits, and when you do nothing but moan, he begins to pop the buttons of your shirt open, one by one from the bottom up, exposing your navel, and then the black cotton bra beneath. You kiss him deeper as he slides a hand up your spine, rocking your hips into his lap as he pulls at the clasp, undoing it in a practised move. The fabric falls loose, and he presses a hand to your sternum, forcing you to retreat.
Your lips are slick, a little swollen, but it’s the hazy look in your eyes that has all his attention. “You good, sweets? You even gonna remember this in the morning?”
“I will. I will, 'm promise. Please keep going,” you slur, not really giving him the best vote of confidence. 
“Take that off for me.” Kishibe tugs loosely at your bra, the cups hanging just low enough for him to get a peek at your areolas. His cock is straining in his slacks now, but he’s too invested for it to be uncomfortable yet. He meant it when he said he was going to take you apart, and he’s going to do it slowly.
You blink at him, and timidly slide the straps off your shoulders. Your movements are slow, but there’s less hesitance than he’s seen so far. It’s clear you’re more worried about his disapproval than any insecurities you might have. Good. 
“Good girl. Look at you,” Kishibe is quick to dole out the praise as soon as your tits are exposed, half for your confidence and half because they really are pretty tits. He’s reaching for them before even he can process what he’s doing. Your nipples are already hard, pulled taut and looking painfully neglected, either from your own arousal or the air. It could be cold in here for all Kishibe knows, but the air around him feels thick, heated and charged. He’d be suffocating if he weren’t so focused.
You take a shuddering breath as he holds them. His touch is so light, the pads of his fingers calloused and warm, stroking over the sensitive flesh. You want more, arching into his touch as much as you dare, still unable to shake the thought that he might change his mind and end this, but for now he doesn’t disappoint. Dazed, you realized the sharp gasp that bites the air is yours as he strokes the pads of his fingers over your nipples before tugging lightly, pleasure rippling hot under your skin.
Your head tosses back in a moan as he does it again, this time his lips brushing the curve of your breast as he pulls you forward, pressing your chest closer to his face. He sucks at the fat of your breasts, still gently tweaking your at your hardened nubs, working his way over, seemingly content to explore.
Pleasure moves hot and slow under your skin, but your mind keeps rocketing from one sensation to another, making it impossible to think beyond the man beneath you. His slick tongue moving against your skin, the heat and wet of it stroking over the edge of your areola, the rough pad of his thumb, the scrape of his blunt nail over the sensitive tip of your nipples, the same callouses gripping at your back, fingertips tickling the edge of your shoulder blade. 
“Quit it,” Kishibe grunts after a minute, and you realize you’ve twisted your hands into his hair, tugging him closer and trying to drag him to where it feels like he’s purposefully avoiding. 
“Please, Kishibe, please,” you moan, blissfully unaware of the minor tantrum you’re throwing at you grind down on his clothed erection. “Your mouth.”
“What about it?” He blinks at you lazily, taking the moment where you sit back to tug at the top few buttons of his own shirt, exposing the top of his chest and a peek of the dark hair that’s hidden beneath.
“Let… Let me feel it,” you breathe out after you’ve snapped your eyes away from that new detail.
The slow grin that spreads across his features feels like the first key in the series of locks that surrounds the man in front of you, a piece of him that he doesn’t share willingly. Something that has to be brought out, dragged out, a prisoner in a cage of its own making. 
“Be more specific, sweets.”
But he’s still the same man, he just exists in varying shades. You squirm for a moment, subject to self-consciousness, but the ache in your nipples, growing tighter in the continued neglect, wins out. You cup your own tits, pushing them out as you lean back down to him. “Want it here. Need to feel you suck on them.”
An appreciative gleam brightens dark eyes. “There’s a good girl.”
This time Kishibe leans in with intent, and you learn something else—your mentor is a goddamn tease. 
His tongue drags over your nipples before sucking, and your hands are tangled in his hair again before you can process it, a cry in a pitch you don’t even recognize torn from your mouth. The slick muscle flicks over the tip as his free hand comes up to roll the other between his fingers lightly. You’re shamelessly rutting into his lap now, senselessly chasing the pleasure boiling low in your stomach, and you can feel him moan against your skin at the friction.
You feel the scrape of his teeth, light and intentional, before he pops off and switches to the other. The treatment begins anew and you swear you might be able to come from this, the wet suction of his mouth, the tacky warmth as he tugs and twists at the nipple still covered in his spit. But Kishibe doesn’t let you, noting the frantic ruts of your body and beginning to slow his efforts, easing you back down.
“Wait—” Your complaint rears itself as your fingers twist into the shorter hair of his nape, trying to tug him closer the moment he pulls away.
“Easy, I’m not done with you,” he rasps, taking your wrists and gently detanging your fingers from his hair. 
You yelp as he grips your thighs and flips your back to the cushions, a strength you already knew he had from all the times he’s stomped you in training, but it surprises you regardless. There’s no time to pick through your thoughts at the display, because Kishibe is bullying between your thighs and capturing your lips in a kiss that puts the last one to shame. It’s possessive, it’s plundering; erasing any other thought from your mind except the way he feels against you. How immovable he feels, his hips keeping your thighs spread, his obvious arousal against your core, his weight against your torso—whatever isn’t supported by his forearm against the cushions, just what he chooses to give you—the scratch of his stubble against your face, the ones he lets overgrow because they shadow his jawline again in less than a day. 
You moan into his mouth as a hand slips between your bodies, pulling the button of your slacks and pushing a hand into your panties, the sound turning into a high keen as he drags his fingers through your slit. You know you’re wet, soaked even, but it’s still a shock to feel your own wetness as he pulls back out, slick against your mound before he’s free of your clothing, to see it shining on his fingers when he pulls back to give you a breath. You knew you wanted him, but to see how much would be mortifying if he knew the truth.
The glisten on his fingers goes unnoticed for a second as he catches sight of your wrecked expression, sitting back on his haunches.
“Oh sweets, look at you,” Kishibe chuckles, voice tight. “You’re a pretty sight right now, and you don’t even know. A sweet little mess. My sweet little mess, for tonight.”
Making a decision, he swipes his hands on the thighs of his pants and undoes his shirt, tossing it over the back of the couch, aware of the way you stare from beneath him. He's getting there in years, but the aches of this job refuse to let his body go soft. There's a thin layer of soft skin stretched across the muscles beneath, making the definition less pronounced, less assuming, but there's no denying the power behind them as he flexes subtly, smirking when your eyes track the movement. 
"Hips up," he orders firmly, his fingers already tugging at the waistband of your slacks.
Not needing to be told twice, you shift and raise your hips as he pulls them from your legs, panties and all. You're completely bare under him, and he's still wearing his pants, the button popped, looking like a god above you. His eyes are piercing, his expression set like marble. As he puts hot palms on your thighs, spreading them even further apart, you think about how attractive he looks when he smokes, almost wishing he had a cig hanging from his lips so you could see it. 
Kishibe is staring intently at your pussy, the hunger in him growing deeper as he watches the muscles twitch. "So no one's ever touched this, huh?" 
You shake your head, whimpering as he pulls your sticky lips apart. 
"You lying, sweetheart? Not even you?" 
Kishibe pulls back the hood of your poor swollen clit, stroking it lightly with the tip of his finger, dark eyes watching your face intently. 
The touch rips a gasp from your throat like ice had been poured down your back, tossing your pretty little head back into the pillows as your fingers twist at what little slack the cushions beneath you have. Kishibe feels the flames of hell crawl a little closer to his own flesh as his arousal flares dangerously at the sight. 
When you remain silent he prompts a little cruelly for an answer, slowly circling the throbbing bud. "Hmm?" 
"I've-yeah I've touched it. Sometimes." 
"Tell me." 
"Tell you?" You suck in a harsh breath as one of his digits teases your entrance, but pulls away. 
"Yeah, tell me how you touch your pussy at night. I wanna know how you play with yourself." His voice drones with detached amusement but his dark eyes are sharp, the sight making your skin prickle with elation to be the center of his attention.
“Usually slow,” you breathe out, moaning when he moves to your clit again. Two fingers press on the bundle of nerves and begin to rub back and forth in a steady tempo. 
“Like this?” Kishibe murmurs, watching you closely.
“Slower,” your voice breaks an octave higher as he increases the pressure just a little, readjusting to what you now realize are instructions for him. “Y-yes, mm, like that…”
“Good. How about your fingers, hmm? You do that slow too?” 
You can feel yourself dripping down to the couch as his voice drips across you like honey. “Yeah, at first.”
“One to start?” 
“Fuck!” A keen tears from your throat as he slides the first digit in, abandoning your clit, the thick, calloused digit pressing in to the hilt with zero resistance.
“Or do you start with two?” Kishibe watches raptly as his middle joins his pointer in the rippling warmth of your cunt, the broken sob leaving your lips sending a irresistible wave of want tearing through his body. The way your hips grind into his touch, chasing more of him is enough to let him know that you can take more, but he lets you stay here for a moment, using his free hand to stroke over his confined cock as you writhe beneath him. 
It’s not hard to find the right angle to stroke your slick walls, curling his fingers up into the spot that has you tossing your head back with what almost sounds like a mournful wail, as if you’re just realizing that you’ve never really given yourself real pleasure before. Kishibe isn’t sure if you have to be honest, you haven’t said, but he isn’t concerning himself with that. He’s too focused on the way you shy away from his touch when he presses his thumb to your clit again, as if you can’t take the combination.
“Oh?” It’s almost a coo, delight pulsing in his veins. “Not like that huh? That not how you do it?”
“I can’t, I can’t—it doesn’t, n-never like this!” It almost sounds like you’re pleading with him, your eyes wide as you stare at him, a thick haze of shock and bliss covering your irises that Kishibe is losing himself in, pumping his wrist, tempted to add a third finger just to see what sounds you’ll make.
“Told you I’d change everything you think you know about pleasure, sweetheart.” He pulls his digits from your pussy, relishing in the whine of protest. And if he’s being honest with himself, there’s a bit of a power complex rushing through him, to be able to control your pleasure whether you think you can handle it or not is too alluring. It’s the thought of making you scream, nothing barred, as he forces ecstasty on you that you don’t even know exists on that has him pushing off the couch which a groan to finally free his cock, shucking his pants off, the liquor leaving him a little unsteady. 
“Sit up for me.” 
You do as he says, confusion scrunching you expression as he settles between your legs, his knees protesting only a little as he shifts so that the plush carpet isn’t dragging uncomfortably against his skin. A little yelp stays in your throat as he tugs you to the edge, spreading your thighs wider and positioning your hips up to expose your pretty pussy. He’s only a breath away, the scent of you thick, kissing distance really, when you slur out some nonsense that sounds questioning, but he can’t say he actually catches any sense of syllables from you.
“I’m thicker than most so you need this,” Kishibe grumbles, nipping at your inner thigh as you squirm and glaring you into submission, “But even a man with a pencil dick better be doin’ this for ya, so don’t accept less.”
Before you can come to terms with him on your knees before you, your mind fizzles out as his tongue swipes through your folds, and his groan vibrates deep into your core. If not for his hands keeping your thighs spread, you would have wrapped them around his head. His nose nudges at your clit as his tongue presses into your clenching pussy, and you can’t stop the garbled sound of pleasure as he laps at your walls, your head tossing back against the couch cushions as he eats you like a meal. It’s surreal, it doesn’t make a lick of sense but oh god you don’t care. The sounds of him slurping at your cunt makes your cheeks burn and you force yourself past your self consciousness to look down at him, the skin of your knuckles stretched tight as you curl them into shaking fists, trying to wrap your mind around the sensations. 
Kishibe flattens his tongue over your clit, and meets your gaze with a wicked gleam in his eyes as he slips a finger into you, savoring the way you clamp down right away, giving a reedy mewl. He can’t help himself any longer, one hand closing around his dick and beginning to slowly stroke himself, trying to go slow, to ease some of the pressure and calm himself down. He adds another digit, and sits back as he begins to work you towards your finish. 
“Should’ve done this in a bed,” he mutters under his breath, the scent of your pleasure thick, feeling mildly guilty as you tremble through your long awaited awaited high. Even his first encounter had been in a bed, traditional.
Kishibe hisses into your thigh as your fingers twist so tight into his hair that he’d snap at you if he were anywhere but here. Here with his fingers sweeping over your clit, watching the way your muscles ripple and tense, an obscene amount of slick and cum dripping onto his couch, and damn it why are you so easy to spoil? Why is he letting you practically rip the hair from his head as your hips jolt and jump, pleasure taking every ounce of your control away from you. There’s a wet sound as he finally pulls his fingers from your cunt, and you slump against the cushions, a looking so beautifully fucked out that it’s a damn shame you haven’t actually been fucked yet.
But that’s what you came here for, and Kishibe will not be the one to disappoint. He pushes to his feet for a moment and drags your hips until you’re both on the couch comfortably, and lets himself sink between your legs, his dick hot and throbbing against your inner thigh. It’s weeping precome and there’s a shivering sense of relief to know that his patience is finally about to be rewarded. 
“You still with me, sweets?” Kishibe murmurs softly, leaning over you, letting his lips drag up your throat in a possessive trail of teeth marks and bruises. “You ready for me?”
The prickle of his overgrown stubble brings you back down a little, and you moan as his tongue swipes over the indentations left in your flesh. “That was—” you gasp at a sharp dig of his teeth under your jaw, hips arching towards him as you feel the weight of his dick between your slick folds, thoughts flying from your mind as the thick tip of him slides over your oversensitive clit. “Oh fuck, Kishibe please. I need y- I need it, oh god.” Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. Maybe he really is going to ruin you. You can’t imagine anyone else ever making you feel this good, so overwhelmed but so hungry for it.
“Good fucking girl,” he whispers, and your body lights up as he shifts back a little, the head of his cock pressing against you and easing inside your desperate walls. He grins as your arms wrap around his shoulders, lips searching for his as your hips try to squirm deeper onto his cock. He meets you in a deep kiss, but he grips your hips firmly, sliding deeper into your clenching pussy at his own content pace, groaning into your mouth at how hot and wet you are. So tight, so so tight, that he can’t stop the juvenile thought about being sure you were a virgin from flitting through his mind, but he lets it go, not about to sully this experience for you with his own pussy drunk stupidity, closing his eyes and falling deeper into the kiss, forcing you to slow it and calm down for him, echoing your whimpers with tiny groans of encouragement.
His thrusts are as steady and measured as they can be with the way your walls suck him in, pussy lips stretched wide around the thicker middle of his shaft. Every time he pulls out he can feel the way your body is trying not to let him go, and every sink home is accompanied by a shaky little exhale from you that sets a fire so deep in his gut that Kishibe is sure the whiskey is the only reason he hasn’t fallen to pieces yet. You’re so pretty and needy sprawled about beneath him, so sunk to pleasure that you’ve resigned to just taking what he gives you and it’s addictive. His cock throbs as he listens to your mumbled little slurs about how good it feels, and he has to pause, breathing deep and hard as he wills down a sudden and fierce urge fill you with cum.
Kishibe chuckles as he sits up and you let out a whine of disapproval, but a slow roll of his hips changes your tune immediately. You’re sucking him in greedily, your clit swollen and damn near begging for attention. He brushes it gently with the back of his knuckles, hissing as you squeeze him in response, getting impossibly wetter around his length. “Doing so good for me, how are you feeling?”
“More, want more.” It’s barely intelligible with how breathless you are, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes down your temples. Your face is so sweet, so open, trusting and needy and suddenly Kishibe can’t find it in himself to draw it out on you any longer, is done handing out pleasure piece by piece, as if he were passing out candy to savor. He wants to pour pleasure over you, wants you to drown in it, to fall so deeply into it that there’s nowhere to surface to, lost in an endless sea.
One strong arm slides under your hips and pulls you up into a better position, fingers digging into your hip as Kishibe begins to fuck you in quick, steady strokes. His forehead is pressed to your chest, cheek in plush of your breast as he controls his groans, a dark satisfaction choking out the last tendrils of guilt as your fingers desperately weave their way back into his hair once more, cradling his head tightly to your chest. There’s no more irritation; the sharp sting feels like a fucking prize, knowing that the price is an overwhelming pleasure that he can feel through you. You feel so good around him, responding so well to his movements, angling your own hips and moving back into his thrusts, that he can’t stop a continuous stream of curses and praises from melting into your skin.
“You’re doing so fucking good for me sweetheart, so good. Squeezing me so tight, wrapped around me so perfect. You feel good? Everything you fucking wanted, hm?” He bites at the flesh of your chest as you tighten around his dick, goosebumps rising visibly across your skin.
You feel like a live current, so electric and buzzing with energy and it feels like there’s nowhere for it to go, zipping up and down your body only to return, shivering and sparking deep in your belly. You try to articulate that this is way more than you ever thought you could ask for, but all that comes out are bitten hiccups of his name and yes and please please please.
Kishibe is more than happy to oblige, grunting and groaning in his throat, way past the point of feeling guilty that you’re losing your virginity on a goddamn couch, too caught up in your drunken slurs, more from pleasure than whiskey.
He grins as your fingers clench around his bicep, scrabbling as you gasp out, "Ohh, nngh—Sir wait, wait! Please I'm gonna—" 
"Go ahead, sweetheart." Kishihe groans, feeling the rippling constrictions of your sweet pussy drag him closer to the edge.
"No, I'm—I'm gonna pee! Please." 
Kishibe’s s head picks up off your chest immediately, and his thrusts stuffer. "Yeah?" You watch panting as his eyes sharpen, hips coming to a full blessed stop. You feel a bare moment of relief before its ripped away and he's moving again, fucking you a little faster than before. "Then go ahead." 
You give a wordless cry, shame and pleasure clamoring in the shrill note, your head shaking back and forth in denial. You can't hold it, not if he does that. 
"No?" Kishibe feels like the Devil himself as he shifts his angle into a grind, still fast and controlled, watching your features twist as you keep fighting to hold it back. "Am I not making you feel good?" 
"Sir!" Your whine draws the title out, panicked, but your knees dig tightly into his hips, your body at least betraying you. Kishibe works a hand under one of your thighs and presses it towards your chest. One of his palms drags down over your tits, stroking down your stomach to put a gentle pressure over your pelvis. Your eyes fly wide and a moan is forced from your lips as the awful urgency thickens, bliss flooding close to the surface. 
"If I press here you won't be able to stop it." 
Kishibe's stare catches your glazed eyes, dark and hungry. His orgasm is approaching steadily now, pleasure whispering selfish instruction in his ear, and he's unable to help but listen. "You'll come so hard it won't matter anymore. What's a little mess for some pleasure, hm sweetheart? If you want it just tell me." 
Your breath catches. His dick keeps hitting that spot in you that makes it impossible to think rationally. He's making you feel so good, goading you in that voice of his that you've worshipped fervently night after night in your apartment, a pillow as your altar. 
The voice in your head is screaming no. It's pee. He'll think you're disgusting and you look up to him so much. You don't want him to associate you with something like this, to so thoroughly debase yourself. But he's making you feel amazing, his cock bullying all your softest parts with undefinable experience. You've heard the gossip about how your mentor likes to spend his nights, but how are you supposed to complain when he's making you feel like this? And he's the one saying you can p— 
"Get outta yer fucking head and come for me, girl." Kishibe growls through his teeth, palm pressing down firmly, calloused thumb spreading over your neglected clit. 
You shatter and cry out, clutching at him tightly, no room for apologies as you tear red lines down his back. Warmth gushes against his pelvis, but the hot shame holds no candle to the blistering pleasure crackling across all your nerves. Listening to Kishibe groan and curse, the feel of him breaking down into something more genuine as his hips snap roughly into yours in chase of the bliss you’re already neck deep in, you’ve never felt more satisfied. He finishes inside you with a deep grunt and your insides flutter again at the milky warmth, your leg curling tight around his ass because you want all of it, you don’t want it to end yet.
But finally, his cock twitches one last time inside you and begins to soften, and Kishibe collapses on top of you with a little puff. You’re damn near ready to purr in happiness at the full weight of him across your body. His cheek rests between your breasts, but you’re unbothered by the scratch of his stubble as his breathing gets deeper, steadier.
Both of you are covered in sweat, cum, and other unspeakables but you’ve never been so comfortable. His softened cock slips out of you, and one of his arms slips under your waist and you feel your heart thud unevenly as he moves to his side and pulls you closer. His head is still buried in your chest, your one leg tangled between his thighs and your other draped over his hip. His eyes are closed, breathing deep and you find it in yourself to cautiously run your fingers through his hair. Kishibe gives a soft, sleepy rumble of contentment and you glow.
The feel of his hair between your fingers is the last thing you remember before the most luxurious drag of sleep tempts you into its clutch of darkness.
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You wake somewhere you don’t recognize, your head thick and pounding awfully. You blink slowly in the low lighting and try to sit up, but your head spins and the pain increases so you let yourself fall back with a low whimper.
You turn on your side, fingers curling into the soft covers over you. Last night had been amazing, but you’re certain you had passed out on on the couch, and as you peer around the curtain-darkened room, it’s easy to tell it’s not the same. You don’t remember being moved; you’d like to say you would have woken up if someone had, but even you can smell the alcohol seeping from your pores. 
Heart pounding unevenly, you try to calm yourself. You’d been dressed in a soft pair of boxer briefs and a tshirt far too large for you, and while you still feel a little bit sticky, you honestly had expected far worse—someone had tried to clean you up. Your heart starts to race now, fluttering and far too fast at the idea of Kishibe taking care of you. Those are a lot of extra steps to take for someone who preached respectable distance. 
“There’s painkillers on the nightstand.”
You finally manage to sit up at the promise of pain relief, seeing the foil tablets and a glass of water, and glance at Kishibe in the doorway, looking about as disheveled as you expect you do. He’s in a loose tshirt and a soft, worn looking pair of sleep pants, blinking sleep and liquor from his eyes as he peers in at you. 
“I’m gonna shower, you should too. There’s towels in the bathroom there.” He nods his head deeper into your room and you see another doorway, probably leading to the bathroom. “And you’re out of luck on breakfast. All the place has is coffee and water.”
Your stomach gives a displeased turn at that, desperate for something to offset last night’s alcohol. Before you can say anything, not even so much as a thank you, Kishibe turns and shuffles down the hall. 
Slowly, you ease out of the bed and gratefully swallow down half the water before even glancing at the pills, but your screaming head does make sure you toss them back as well, before you peek down the hallway your mentor had disappeared down. You hear the sound of running water and follow it, wandering through the doorway to the room he obviously slept in last night, the bed an unkempt mess of blankets. The door to the bathroom is closed, and there’s already steam filtering through the gaps.
Letting an uncharacteristic determination carry you forward, you open the door and begin stripping off your clothes.
“Get out, sweetheart.” Kishibe’s voice sounds tired and distant, filling you with nerves that you refuse to let show on your face as you ignore him slip into the shower.
He’s working soap through his hair, leveling you with a deeply unimpressed look that would have sent you skittering before last night, before he called you his sweet little mess, before he called you good fucking girl. You take a deep breath and speak your mind.
"I want that again." 
His response is flat, immediate. "Not gonna happen." 
"Why not? Was it not good?" You look embarrassed and distraught at the thought and Kishibe heaves a sigh. 
"How good it was has nothin’ to do with why we can't do this again." 
“So you regret it?”
Kishibe isn’t sure where he stands on that yet. “Didn’t say that.”
"But then..." 
"But what? I told you this was a bad idea didn't I? You should've chosen someone else. Anyone other than me." 
You get a little salty at that. "I might be younger than you," Kishibe gives a sardonic huff "—but I'm still old enough to make decisions for myself." 
"Old enough to make your own decisions, huh." 
You shift under the water as he gives you a tired stare, his gaze sharpening into something more contemplative, glinting dangerously. 
"So you're saying you want that again?" Kishibe questions calmly. 
"Yes," you whisper, uncaring if it makes you sound desperate. 
"If we do I've got some stipulations," he warns, voice low.
"Like what," your breath hitches as he leans closer, the water getting hotter against your back as he reaches past you to adjust the temperature. 
"Well for starters," he grumbles, "I don't have any interest in going to your place. It's here or nothing." 
"Fine." Your response is immediate, relief coloring your tone that you're not being immediately shut out. 
"And this arrangement will be temporary, no matter how long it goes on," Kishibe continues slowly, his fingers coming up to pinch your lips together, cutting off whatever you were opening your mouth to say. "I'm not the kind of man that would treat ya like you're nothin'. I'm gonna tell you you're sexy when I've got you under me and I'm gonna clean up whatever mess I make of you, so I need to know you're not going to confuse common decency and respect with love, got it?" 
You nod slowly, struggling to wrap your mind around the weight of his words. What he doesn't know won't hurt him, you just want more of whatever you can get. It's just a crush, maybe you'll figure out how to squash your feelings somewhere down the line. So you get a little hurt along the way, so what? You're not entirely sure how any of that is a problem and why he looks so serious.
"Anything else?" He hasn't spoken for a minute, but you can still see deep thought etched into his expression.
Kishibe glances at you, soap dripping from his hair down his neck. "Yeah, one more thing."
It's the most damning thing. Makima herself would be proud of him for this. This kind of thing is more her style, but he's already made it this far. 
"Ya have to join the civilian sector."
He senses more than feels you stiffen behind him, closing his eyes and beginning to rinse his hair out as he waits for you to speak first. He's not blind, not anymore—after last night he'd really have to be to not understand the way you've been looking at him, probably since the beginning. Kishibe doesn't know how he didn't see it sooner, probably willful ignorance. But his eyes have been opened and he can't unsee it; you're a brat; you wear your heart on your sleeve, and for whatever reason…its flag is flying his colors. So he's going to use that, and you can thank him when you survive the year.
"Join the civilian sector?" Your voice trembles.
Kishibe glances down to see you chewing your lower lip. "Or quit. Find a cozy desk job somewhere. Either works."
"Why?" Your demand is fierce but it's weak; you look like a scruffy little kitten that needs shelter but too scared to come out of the rain. Kishibe can see you crumbling already, making his final stab. Why you'd want him this bad is beyond him, but dirty tactics have never been beneath him. 
"If we're doin’ this, you're going to be available to me when I want you. Otherwise I can find others, like I've been doing. Finish up in here, and I'll make some coffee. Might as well go to the office together."
Despair crosses your features, and Kishibe lets the silence do the last of the work, stepping out of the stream and reaching for a towel. He makes quick work of drying off and getting dressed, bones aching for coffee. Curiosity pangs deep in his nerves as he wonders why killing yourself in Public Safety is even worth that expression, and why he’s equally as important as whatever it is. He tries to put it out of his mind and fails, fingers tapping on the expensive countertop.
As the coffee percolates, Kishibe hears the water shut off and the mental image of you stepping out of his shower flickers through his mind, ghosting along the memories of the way you felt beneath him last night. He tries and fails to admit to himself he’s not coming out entirely on top in this situation.
When you finally slip into his kitchen, dressed in your crumpled uniform from last night, you’re no longer wearing that brokenhearted little face, and Kishibe braces himself for whatever little pep talk you managed to give yourself while he was gone. He pushes a mug towards you and the sugar he somehow found while he was waiting. 
“I have my own stipulations,” you grumble finally, accepting the mug without looking at him, spooning sugar into it. He wants to wince at the shriek of metal on glass as you stir, but he doesn’t.
“If I have to quit the hunter society to be ‘available to you’, then you have to be available to me.” Your eyes are a little heated as they finally meet his, and Kishibe gives a noncommittal hum. “Meaning you don’t get to sleep around. Just with me.”
Ah. Makima would be proud of you too, Kishibe muses to himself. He decides to let you feel that victory and puts on a show, feigning annoyance. He drums his fingers on the counter and gives you a dry, measured look. “What, sweetheart, want me to get tested or something?”
You rise to his bait, snapping a little. “Maybe that’s a good idea.”
“Fine.” He shrugs and sips his coffee. “Maybe you should too, since you’re so worried about my health.”
Embarrassment burns your cheeks at the thought of making that appointment, but you push through it. “Fine, I will. I’ll be needing to get on birth control anyways.” The barest hint of shock flickers through his expression before he slams it back to its usual tired smirk.
“Anything else?” He asks, sarcasm barely kissing the edge of his tone.
Your thoughts scramble to all the things you’d listed to yourself in the shower but with him looking at you like that, bemused, confident, smug, you forget most of them. You latch onto one thing and give him a glare. “I get a key. And I can sleep here whenever I want. I’m not waiting outside in the cold to be your booty call.”
Kishibe gives you a look and starts to pull a pen out of his jacket but changes his mind. He watches all the bravado and irritation drain from your expression as he steps into your space, melting into something else, something expectant, electric. He pretends he doesn’t see it, pretends that his blood doesn’t pick up at the sight of it, and whispers the passcode to the apartment, so close to your ear that he could bite it. Could.
He pulls back and listens to your shuddering exhale, tilting your chin towards him. “That’s for you only. I don’t give people access to my personal space, got it?”
You nod dumbly, eyes wide and body hot as his dark eyes flicker to your lips.
“Then I guess we gott’a deal, sweetheart.”
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@angstflayer-council 24 hour writing challenge!
prompt: forest | word count: 1,233 | rated: G
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The town of Hawkins is laid out weird.
The richest neighborhoods built with maybe a couple hundred yards of forest between them and the Forest Hills trailer park.
“I don’t want to see that rubbish out my window.” Steve’s mother would say as she closed all the blinds at the back of the house come winter. Something beyond the bare trees that Steve could never see, and she didn't want to.
“You be careful in those woods now, Eddie. Don’t wanna see ya gettin’ hurt.” Wayne would warn. Never telling him to stay out, just a “Be careful.” since he knew Eddie would go no matter what.
That couple hundred yards of forest was Steve’s favorite place to go; it was Eddie’s favorite place to go.
At the halfway point between their homes, they made a place all their own. The place they met.
Whenever Steve felt alone, he would go to their spot.
Whenever Eddie felt like a burden, he would go to their spot.
Steve wouldn’t be alone, and Eddie could never be a burden to his friend.
They would play there together in the spring when Eddie would visit for Easter, all summer long when Steve was on break from school (Eddie too, visiting his Uncle for the season). During the short extra hours of Thanksgiving before they would have to go back for dinner. Every bright, freezing day of winter break.
Every day was some sort of adventure, either one that Eddie’s uncle had read to him about from those Ring Lord books he loved, or an adventure all his own! Eddie was always telling some sort of story.
The short hills and valleys became foxholes, sticks and branches were swords and bows, giant spoons to stir a potion of mud and bugs, the walls of a fort just for them.
“Hear ye, Hear ye! Beloved denizens of Harringson county, Fort Steddie is now complete!” Eddie declared loudly, putting the last leafy branch onto the lopsided roof. It was the summer after Eddie officially moved to Hawkins. They were 11.
“Steddie?”  
Eddie jumps down from the tree he’d latched onto to get up to the roof and pushes the short curls he’s managed to grow back since last year off his forehead. “Yeah, like Steve and Eddie mushed together. Duh.”
“Not..Eddeve? Why not just call it Fort Harringson?”
“All options were considered, Stevie,” Eddie assures, holding one palm up, his other hand resting behind him on his lower back. “Steddie had a better ring to it.”
“You have a better ring to it.” Steve teases, running off immediately, Eddie not far behind with his favorite branch-turned-sword.
A scant two years later, Steve and Eddie share their first kiss under the roof of Fort Steddie, in the heart of Harringson County.
Two more finds them nearly coming to blows. 
Eddie embarrassed Steve. On the very first day of High School. Steve doesn’t even fucking remember what it was that Eddie did now, the actual offence lost to time.
The last time he and Eddie were together in those woods?…Wasn’t.
“It’s high school Eddie, I wanted to–to be cool!”
“Well, I think you’re cool. Doesn’t that count for something?”
Eddie’s hair is longer now, it curls under his ears and Steve still remembers how it had felt between his fingers.
“No! ‘Cause you’re not cool! You’re a nerd!” Steve remembers he regretted those words immediately after they left his mouth. No. He regretted them as they were coming out.
Eddie’s jaw had clenched.
“Eddie–”
He turned on his heel and marched back towards his trailer.
“Fine! Walk away! Just like everyone else in my life!” What was he talking about? His parents weren’t around enough to walk away.
Eddie doesn’t look back. He only pauses to grab his backpack where he’d dropped it against a tree.
After that day, Steve feels alone whenever he enters the woods behind his house.
Every day since then, he’s wanted so badly to tear apart that lopsided little fort in the middle of the forest.
But he couldn’t.
He couldn’t bear to tear down the only place he’d ever had where he didn’t feel alone.
He couldn’t bear to tear down the place of his first kiss with the man he still loves.
For years, Fort Steddie sits empty. 
Steve and Eddie will both deny ever going back, but of course they had. Always missing each other, in heart and in reality.
It was the first place Steve thought of when Dustin barreled into Family Video looking for Eddie in March of ‘86, but he couldn’t get the words out. His mouth denying his brain’s demands to tell them about their spot in the forest.
So he kept quiet, letting the others figure out where else Eddie might be, promising to check there himself as soon as he had a chance.
Luckily though, they had found Eddie. In Reefer Rick’s boathouse of all places. Steve’s first thought when getting threatened with a broken bottle to the throat (after “Oh thank fuck you’re safe.”) was that it was good Eddie hadn’t hidden at their fort, it was too obvious of a spot.
Much later, while walking through the freezing cold upside-down Hawkins, Robin questions the little shelter they come across when almost to Eddie’s trailer.
“Is this Castle Byers?” She asks, sticking her head into the little door.
“No,” Steve and Eddie say at once.
Robin and Nancy both give them a weird look, but Eddie barrels forward, “We shouldn’t be that far now; I built this in the woods outside my trailer when I first moved in with Wayne.”
Eddie jogs forward to reach them, he and Nancy heading up the group now, Robin trailing behind.
Steve gives the fort a wistful look as he passes, then jogs forward as well, further into the fray.
They push on; they plan, they build weapons, Eddie builds a shield. Dustin copies him.
When Steve, Robin, and Nancy head back towards those same woods, the forest’s sure safety replaced in his gut by pure dread, Eddie stops Steve with an unsure “Hey Steve? Make him pay.”.
Steve loses it.
He stomps back the three steps he’d taken, grabs Eddie by the open flaps of his jacket and vest, and kisses him.
It only takes half a second for Eddie to kiss him back; their lips falling into rhythm as if no time had passed at all.
“What did I just tell you, Eddie?” Steve questions the dumbfounded metalhead under his hands, ignoring Robin and Dustin’s wolf-whistles while zipping up the protective layers his dumb of ass, beloved Eddie was about to leave open to the unforgiving world around him.
He can see how red Eddie’s face is, even in this dark hellscape. “What’d yo– You sa–”
“I said.” Steve emphasizes, pulling up the thick plastic zipper of Eddie’s new vest. “Don’t try to be cute, don’t be heroes.” he hooks his fingers into the armholes of the armored clothing, holding Eddie close. “You can’t help the ‘cute’ part, but you can help the second part.”
Eddie continues to stare at him, dumbfounded.
“Keep him safe, Eddie. Keep yourself safe too.” He looks him over once again. “I’ve been alone in those woods for too damn long. I’d like to keep you around once this is over.” he whispers, smirking at the other man.
"I-I will.."
Steve steps back, walking backward toward the woods, toward the Creel house, “It’s not quite Fort Steddie without the ‘Eddie’, you know.” Eddie’s own smirk climbs onto his face despite his attempts to frown it away.
Steve finally turns, walking away with Robin hanging off his side, no doubt berating him about the…all of that that just happened.
Speaking of: “Holy shit Eddie, what the fuck was all that??”
“Language, Henderson.”
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i originally posted this as the shorter angsty-er version but i liked the rest of what i wrote too much not to post the whole thing 😅 so if you saw the first version, i hope you like the additions lmao
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saintlaurentisms · 2 months
Note
hi my love! been obsessed with the fictional club scene recently; was wondering if you could write me a quick smutty club bathroom/dancefloor blurb!!! have fun with it, i love ya <3 :3
fulfilling the fantasy.
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A/N: i had so much fun writing this, holy shit. this is dedicated to all of the harry & ashton fans in the world (and on the internet!), i see you and i believe you have taste.
gif credit.
summary: in which, you and your boyfriend go out to celebrate a successful first tour gig and the adrenaline seriously heightens emotions. ~ featuring ashton irwin of 5 seconds of summer.
content warning: smut (semi-public p-in-v sex in front of a mirror, voyeurism, threesome (???), dirty talk (degradation + praise), oral sex (male receiving), some hair pulling, daddy kink.) this work is intended for those 18+ and should be read by mature audiences only.
word count: 2.7k+ words.
The post-concert adrenaline hadn’t wavered in Harry’s veins, that much was evident. When you looked at him, all you could see was the radiance of energy and purity of happiness; evergreen in his eyes, the rose color in his lips, the blackness of ink that shone underneath the arctic hues of blue and white in the nightclub you and Harry had ventured to in the darkness of the evening. It was risky going out, especially at a time where One Direction fans were probably having their own adventure, still riding the high of seeing their favorite band perform live, but you nor Harry seemed to care.
Tonight was all about him, all about celebrating a successful first show and the beginning of the On the Road Again tour. The rest of the boys had preoccupied themselves with their own forms of fun, leaving you and Harry by yourselves. Upon entering the venue, you beelined towards the bar, your hand in Harry’s with your heads bowed to try and keep your identities a bit of a secret. You’re in the middle of ordering a round of vodka shots for you both before you feel a gentle tap on your shoulder. You turn your head to get a glance at who could have tapped you, though you’re already suspecting it was a fan. 
You were wrong.
“Holy shit, Ashton?” You exclaim, eyebrows furrowing at the man in front of you. Harry’s eyes widen a bit at your words, turning his body fully to face the drummer, abandoning the bartender and the prospect of alcohol. It had been a while since you’d interacted with Ashton in person, only really communicating via text or video chat since you last saw him a year ago. Of course, it had been far longer for Harry; One Direction had 5 Seconds of Summer on tour with them in 2013 and 2014 and they all grew quite close during that time, but their communication had fizzled out due to how busy both bands became. 
“I knew it was you!” Ashton grins, hazel eyes glimmering with excitement as the pair of you take each other in. The buzz of chemistry between you and the Australian was palpable – palpable enough for anyone to notice it, including Harry. 
Harry’s lips twitch up into a small smile at the interaction taking place in front of him, yet an ugly, gnawing feeling in his gut is slowly beginning to grow; he knew you were attracted to Ashton when you’d met back in 2013 and that Ashton reciprocated those feelings once you both had gotten to know one another. However, you and Harry had just begun dating and knew that nothing would come of your little crush on the drummer. Still, a deep-seated insecurity nestled its way into his bones and, apparently, hadn’t quite left. 
Maybe it was the adrenaline coursing through his veins, but the unsettling amount of jealousy your boyfriend was beginning to feel made his evergreen eyes go emerald; hard, darkened. “We’re celebrating tour,” Harry cuts in, instinctively wrapping an arm around your shoulders, “the first show was earlier on.” 
“Yeah, I heard through the grapevine,” Ashton replies playfully, “Niall. Niall’s the grapevine. He asked if the boys and I could catch the show, but we were busy. Will you be in Australia for a bit?”
“Yes! Yeah, we’ll be in Australia. 1D has shows in Brisbane and Melbourne.” The words tumble out of your mouth and it sounds as though you’re a walking advert for your boyfriend’s band. Clearly, Ashton finds it cute because he’s chuckling at your unfiltered enthusiasm the minute you stop rambling. 
“Well, it was great to see you guys. I didn’t mean to intrude.” He smiles, though his words are a slight dig at your boyfriend; Ashton could tell Harry’s guard was up and the jealousy that he exuded was crystal clear. At least, it was to him.
You, on the other hand, were too wrapped up in excitement to truly take note. 
The drummer leaves you and Harry at the bar, going back into the atmosphere of the club. You spot him joining a group of friends at a table. Part of you wishes he’d stay and chat more, but the evening wasn’t about socializing, it was about basking in the glory of your popstar beau. 
Everything seems to return back to normal; you turn your attention back to the bar and order that round of vodka shots for yourself and Harry. The two of you are two shots deep before his gaze falls on you, “D’you want to fuck him?” 
You choke on the alcohol, sputtering slightly with wide eyes at the incredibly unexpected question. “W-What? What the fuck are you- are you talking about?” You speak between breaths, trying to regain composure. Harry wasn’t usually so direct, this only happened whenever sex was involved, so why he was so upfront confused you a bit. 
“Do you want to have sex with Ashton?”
“Harry,” You look at him incredulously, “don’t be ridiculous. No, I don’t want to sleep with Ashton.”
“Don’t lie, Y/N. You’ve always fancied him, we both know that.”
“So what? I’m with you, I love you. Want you, not him. It’s just a little celebrity crush, H. You know I’d-”
“Darling,” Harry interrupts with a chuckle, amused by your immediate instinct to reassure him that you’d never entertain infidelity. He knew how committed you were to him. “S’ not what I mean. I know you wouldn’t cheat on me. M’ askin’ if you’d ever thought about fucking him.” 
You weren’t sure whether to be truthful or to set aside your feelings. On one hand, he was only asking you if you’d thought about it or had ever fantasized about it, yet on the other hand, a part of you was sure that if you answered with the truth, he’d get angry with you. However, Harry had never been the type to get angry over honesty. In fact, he preached being truthful. 
“I’ve… thought about it, yeah. It isn’t really a fantasy about him fucking me, though. It’s more- well, it’s more about you and him.”
Your boyfriend blinks, “A threesome?”
“Kind of? I- I guess you could describe it that way. You, uhm.. You take turns.”
At this, the popstar is silent. His eyebrows knit together as he thinks for a brief moment. 
“We share you.”
You cringe at Harry’s words. The lewdness of his sentence lingers and makes you feel queasy, “When you put it like that, I sound like a slut. I hate how that sounds.”
“Baby, there’s nothin’ wrong with wanting to explore having more than one sexual partner. ‘Spose it is a threesome you’re wanting. I…” He trails off, pearly teeth nibbling at his lower lip as he starts to think deeply once more, diving head first into the depths of his head. 
“Yeah?” You coax, eyebrows raising slightly.
“I’ll be honest, m’ a bit jealous about it- the idea of another man takin’ you. But, if it’s just a one time thing, I think I could be okay with it.” Harry replies sincerely, green eyes meeting your own briefly. “One night only, the two of us makin’ you ours for an evening.”
Those words go straight to your core and your brain begins to conjure up filthy images of Ashton and Harry taking turns pleasing you. Your thighs squeeze together in order to quell the heat beginning to bloom in between them. “Please?” You ask quietly, gazing up at your boyfriend with faux innocence; a little look like this tends to send Harry into dominant overdrive. 
He smirks, “Text him and tell him to meet us in the bathroom, love.”
Within eight minutes, Ashton is tapping on the club’s bathroom door before swiftly entering and locking it behind him. His hazel eyes glance over at Harry, then at you. “Are you sure about this?”
You’d texted the drummer about the situation when your boyfriend had told you to, not leaving any important details out of it. It was made clear: you, Harry and Ashton, fucking in the club’s bathroom. The only opportunity you’d ever get to have both of the men you deemed incredibly fit and had the most chemistry with. 
You nod confidently, “I’m sure, I promise.” 
Like a switch had flipped, Ashton’s gaze meets Harry’s again, but there’s a haze in it; his once bright hazel eyes are clouded with desire. Some silent conversation is had between their eyes, maybe it’s both men agreeing to the terms – whatever it is, they both exude an aura of dominance that has your heartbeat increasing. You’ve never wanted to be on your knees this badly before.
The feeling of Harry’s lips brushing against your ear brings you out of your reverie and a short gasp leaves your lips as they trail downward and press a deep kiss to your neck. Ashton walks forward, one of his hands cupping your cheek as he brings his lips to yours, sealing your fate. 
The affair becomes a blur of quick movements and kisses shared as time progresses. The soft clink of belts being unbuckled and heavy breathing fills the room when you’re finally brought down to your knees, eyes feigning innocence as you look up at Ashton. His hand is wrapped around his cock, the tip of it right at your lips. 
“Go on, baby. Show Ashton how much of a good little slut y’ are.” Harry encourages you, leaning against the sink with his hand tugging slowly at his length. Without much else, your lips wrap around the drummer’s dick, your head bobbing up and down in order to take more of it in.
“Fuck,” Ashton swears through gritted teeth, his free hand weaving itself into your hair, gently guiding your movements, “so good, doll. Keep goin’ just like that for me.” 
You do, you allow him to guide your movements with each tug on your hair, furthering his cock into your mouth. It’s sloppy; tears are welling in your eyes whenever he hits the back of your throat, your saliva is coating his dick and your chin. “She’s such a slut for it, Styles. Damn, you got lucky.” Ashton groans low in his throat, which makes Harry smirk.
“Bet you’re absolutely dripping, aren’t you baby? Adore being used, don’t you?” Your boyfriend taunts you, evergreen eyes watching you suck off his friend. All you can do is look at him as validation for his statement. 
Ashton’s fingers wrapping in the strands of your hair becomes slightly fiercer, pulling and pushing your lips up and down his length as he chases euphoria. “Fuck, I’m close.” He warns, hazel eyes shutting as he tries his damndest to hold on for just a bit longer.
Your eyes flit towards Harry, who’s still watching you give Ashton a blowjob, his hand tugging at his cock lazily. A devilish grin has throned itself upon his lips, “Cum for her, Ash.”
The drummer’s fingers twitch momentarily, then still. A guttural groan leaves his lips as his head tilts back and his cock throbs in between your lips, emptying himself into your mouth. Eagerly, you swallow what he gives you – and it’s a lot; thick streams of cum paint your tongue white.
Ashton pulls away from you once his cock starts to soften, tucking himself back into his trousers and gently helping you up from off your knees. “That was- shit, that was really fuckin’ good.”
“I- uh.. I’m glad you enjoyed it.” You reply a bit bashfully. “Now, do you mind if Harry and I…” You trail off, hoping he’d take the hint that you wanted to be alone with your significant other.
Thankfully, he does. Ashton turns to look at himself in the mirror above the sink, straightening himself out before saying goodbye to you and Harry, then asking your boyfriend to text him. He unlocks the door and disappears into the club. 
You make quick work of locking it once more, then face your boyfriend. Harry gestures you over to him and the minute you’re standing in front of him, both of his hands grip your waist. He wastes no time in undressing your lower half and bending you over the sink, one of his hands reaching to pull at your hair so your eyes are focused on your reflections in the mirror. He’s being rough, but you hadn’t expected much else; whenever he got really aroused, his dominant side would peak significantly. 
“Did you like having Ashton’s dick down your throat, darling? I know you did, I can feel just how wet you are.” He teases you, the head of his length pressing up against your entrance. “I think you enjoyed it a bit too much, Y/N. D’you need to be reminded of who you belong to, baby?”
You swallow thickly, eyes meeting his through the mirror, “Yes.”
“Sorry? Didn’t quite hear you, love.”
A shaky sigh leaves your lips, “Yes, Daddy.”
The feeling of Harry’s cock stretching you out overwhelms your senses, your nails claw at the sink as he bottoms out. “Have to be quick,” He grunts as his hips start to move, thrusting in and out of your dripping pussy at an unrelenting pace, “but I’ll make damn sure you know who you belong to once m’ finished.” 
You can’t speak, your lips are parted as heavy breaths and choked moans roll off of your tongue as your boyfriend takes you. Harry’s right hand finds your clit, the pads of his fingers start toying with the sensitive pearl. “Look at you, takin’ my cock like the perfect slut that y’ are. Should fulfill more of your fantasies if this is how bloody good you’ll be.” He growls in your ear.
“Yes- yes, please!” You mewl, the prospect of exploring more of your desires with the man that you love makes you more aroused, your pussy clenches around his cock at the thought. “I- I love being your p-perfect little slut.”
“I know, angel. So fuckin’ perfect f’ Daddy.” 
A whine leaves your lips, “God, Harry, I’m gonna cum.” 
“Not before you tell me who you belong to, baby.” 
Another whine leaves your lips; he’s playing a game with you and if you don’t obey the rules, you won’t get to orgasm. You need to orgasm. 
“Yours, Harry. I- I’m all yours.”
He gives a particularly rough thrust and his teeth scrape at your ear, “Who’s pussy is this?”
You gasp, “Yours.”
“That’s right, angel. Now you can cum f’ me.” 
Harry’s fingers on your clit continue to rub quick circles, his eyes fixated on your features twisting up in pure ecstasy as your orgasm hits you hard; jaw slack, eyes pinched shut, pussy throbbing around his cock. 
The feeling of you squeezing around him like a vice triggers his own orgasm. He buries his face into the crook of your neck to muffle the loud groan that reverberates in his chest, his stomach clenching as he empties himself inside of you. 
“Holy shit.” You chuckle breathlessly as your orgasms begin to dissipate. Harry’s hand falls away from your clit and he gingerly begins to pull out of you, eyebrows furrowing a bit at the feeling. 
“Are you alright?” He asks, helping you steady yourself as you straighten up. 
“Yeah, yeah. I’m alright. I do have a question for you,” You begin, just as you both start redressing, “were you being serious about fulfilling more of my fantasies? Or was that the testosterone talking?”
Harry grins, “Definitely not just the testosterone. We’ve never actually discussed what sexual fantasies you’ve had.”
“Do you have any?” You ask curiously, quietly wracking your brain for a possible answer he might give.
“Not very many, but I do have a few. Don’t think we should begin discussing them now, darling. We’ve been in here for a long time.” He replies, taking a quick glance at himself in the mirror, then wrapping an arm around your waist. 
“Right,” You giggle, “we should go.” 
Harry reaches to unlock the bathroom door and leads you back out into the club, the both of you exiting with smug expressions on your faces and one shared thought…
If this was only one of your fantasies, what else could you both explore?
221 notes · View notes
acidsoju · 16 days
Text
MUSE II
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(muse part one here)
genre: romance, college life, slice of life, some fluff, smut pairing: poetry major! soobin x art major! reader Warnings: nsfw, dom soobin, sub reader, unprotected sex, public sex, oral (f. receiving) word count: 5k summary: if soobin had been a sorce of inspiration to your painting, why couldn't you also be one to his writing?
“Roses are red. Violets are blue. What the fuck I’m supposed to do?”
“Ah, yes, that’s my favorite so far.”
Soobin rolled his eyes, crashing the little paper in his hand and throwing it somewhere around his room. In his swivel chair, he turned to look at his friend laying in his bed while playing on his cellphone, not listening to him anymore and barely answering the same ‘that’s good’, ‘oh, I like that one better’ sentences everytime Soobin came with a new idea.
“Shouldn’t you be rehearsing or something?” That finally caught the attention of his friend who, after taking a look at the time in his screen, gasped loudly. Taehyun grabbed his stuff as quickly as he could and stormed out of Soobin’s house after screaming around:
“See ya, Soob! Good luck with your thingy!”
Now Soobin was alone with his own thoughts in his room; his floor covered in his failed writing attempts. He leaned his head against the chair’s back, his hair swiftly falling to the sides of his face. Like a drummer, he twirled unstoppably the pencil in his fingers while trying to organized the ideas rushing throught his mind.
After winning last year’s poetry contest, he didn’t feel the necessity of trying again; but that changed after this year’s prize was revealed; a full year scholarship? He was on. But it seemed like the harder he tried, the harder it became to actually write something that wasn’t a full of crap.
Soobin still had a month to write and submit his poem, so he found himself staying till late hours in the uni’s library, reading how many hours long from Homer to Shakespeare to Komachi and then Dickinson; Soobin immersed in his big literaly world.
“We’re closing soon, son. You should go back home.” The old and sweet librarian would tell him, snapping him out of his world when the nights arrived.
One specifically night, he found himself roaming around the various departments in college, enjoying the strange atmosphere it created the night in the place. He felt such an outsider in such a familiar place to him. The sound of his footsteps died when he saw light coming from a classroom and he walked slower, trying not to make any sound in case it was, you know, a serial killer.
Avoiding making sound wasn’t really necessary as you had your earphones on, blocking any sound from outside. You sat down on a wooden stool facing a canva two heads bigger than you, your hand holding up the brush and and brushtrocking on it, plastering life into it. It wasn’t done but Soobin could tell you were working on some sea details at the moment.
He stayed crouched down peeking from the door longer than he thought, but he found himself mesmerized. It hadn’t been that long of a time since you two met but still, after that night he stood over at your place, you two had not talked again due to your busy, overwhelming university lives. Memories from that night with you came to his mind making his breath hitched.
He analyzed the scene in front of him some more; from your tired yet focused eyes, to the hand holding the palette in which you would mix some colors; your own clothes had stains of paint in some random places, some were still fresh and some looked old so Soobin assumed you used that specific overall anytime you’d paint.
Your hand stopped and Soobin hid himself just in time before you looked to the door. The hall was dark. Just what time was it? You didn’t know and your phone was still in your bag, but from the window you saw the stars of the night sky and decided it was time to go back home. Your eyes flickered to the door once more when you thought you heard some footsteps, but since you had your earphones on you assumed it was nothing and carried on.
Soobin rushed down the hall to the art department’s entrance, almost running. His heart beating loudly against his chest after almost being caught. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk to you but he would prefer if you didn’t catch him practically spying on you.
The very next day Soobin found himself walking down the art’s department again, curiously wondering if you’d be there again too. And you were; on the same clothes, with your earphones on humming along to the song while painting. This became of Soobin’s little routine after his actual routine in the library but it didn’t last long since one night when he had peeked to look into the classroom, he had seen no one.
The big half-done canva was there though and as his eyes went from the glistening sea to the bag on the floor, his heart started beating anxiously against his chest. He was about to leave when he heard the clear sound of footsteps stopping just behind him; he suddenly felt like he was about to die in a horror movie and when you towered over him and poke your head form his side, he couldn’t help but shrieked.
Next thing he heard was your loud laughter. He fell on his butt and tried to calm his anxious heart, feeling the back of his neck burning up. Your shoes appeared in front of him and he looked up at your figure; you smirked down at him, an eyebrow arched and your arms crossed in front of your chest.
“Well, I haven’t seen you around lately.” Soobin laughed awkwardly at your remark and stood up enjoying the way you had to tilt your head up to keep looking at him in the eyes. He had to admit that looking at you from a distance and from up a close were two completely different things. His eyes faltered for milliseconds to your lips.
“So…” He mumbled scratching the back of his head with his hand and trying to pull his best innocent smile, making his dimple show specially for you. “This is not what it looks like?” He didn’t sound convinced at all which made you snort. “Really! I just happened to be here and didn’t except anyone else to be here… I didn’t expect you to be here.” Wow, was he always this good of a liar?
You narrowed your eyes at him and ended up shrugging, deciding that there was no reason to believe he was lying and, after all, you both did go to the same college.
“Okay then, it was nice seeing you again.” You lazily smiled at him before walking into the classroom again, putting a sudden end to your meeting. Soobin blinked at the space you were just a second ago and without too much thinking, he followed you in. While you took your usual seat, he walked closer and stopped behind you looking at the beautiful painting in front of him. You silently gulped feeling the warm of his body radiating on your back and picked up the palette and brush, hoping the slight shake of your fingers would pass unnoticed.
“You really are talented.” He complimented nodding his head while looking at you inching closer to the canva, some lose strands of hair falling to the front of your head because of the sudden movement.
When his hand reached out and put the little hairs behind your ear, you flinched surprised at the sudden contact. His hand lingered in the spot just a moment before tracing his fingertips down your neck. You closed your eyes, enjoying his sweet caress.
“It was nice seeing you too.” He whispered in your ear, now his body towering over yours.
It was safe to say that that night Soobin couldn’t stop thinking about you; while deprived of sleep, he started writing down every thought that came to his mind while you flooded every space in his head. He didn’t realized when he fell asleep, head resting down on his desk and with half a paper written thanks to you.
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Knock knock. You turned your head towards the door to where the tall, pretty boy stood, gently leaning on against the door frame, a coyly smile for you. You nodded in his direction, greeting him with a small smile on your lips while your eyes told everything in your place: ‘what are you doing here?’ Soobin caught that; still he walked in and placed down his bag on a table. He sat down and took out some things from his bag.
You cleared your throat. “Did you need anything?”
“Oh, I can’t be here?” He tilted his head.
“I don’t really mind… But why are you here?”
“I’m participating in this year’s poetry contest.”
You hummed nodding your head, turning around in your seat to look properly at him. Did he wear glasses before? This was the first time you noticed them. It suited him really good. He didn’t say anything else to you and instead focused all his attention down on his notepad, nibbling down on his pencil.
Just when you turned back to the canva, he lifted his eyes and grinned, trying to suppress his smile from growing bigger.
Truth was, you didn’t really mind sharing the classroom with other people. After all, you had your earphones with you just in case you needed to block anything that could bother you from the little world you were creating. Still, you didn’t really expect to feel the burning of his stare from time to time on your back. So nervewrecking.
Long hours passed day by day where the two of you were sharing a common silence. Only making small talks from time to time when Soobin would feel his head clouded or when you would start getting annoyed at some failed attempts.
As more time you spent together, Soobin started noticing more things about you; the way you’d block him from your own world completely, humming quietly to whatever came to your mind and sometimes even muttering things to yourself which he found kind of cute; or the way you’d massage your back after long hours of painting; how you’d rubbed your temples while sighting or the quick glances you’d steal from him when you thought he wouldn’t noticed.
Oh, did he not noticed all those times you’d look at him with your pretty eyes?
He could notice from the corner of his eyes when you’d turn, pretending to stretch and look outside through the window, how your eyes would trail to him and lingered on himself. He had ended up hurting the inside of his cheek after so much biting to suppress his grinning. And from time to time he’d lift his gaze, caughting you staring at him and enjoying the red in your ears.
“Pretty.”
You were startled when he suddenly talked standing behind you, interrupting the unspoken pact of silence between both.  When had he gotten so close? You tilted your head and looked up at him as he towered over yourself to peek closer at your work. The back of your head hit his low abdomen and that made him look down, a smile spreading in his face that made your cheeks burn up. His hands placed on each side of your face and his thumbs gently rubbed your red cheeks.
“So pretty.” He mumbled and from the look in his eyes you were sure he wasn’t talking about your painting. His eyes moved to your lips, his index finger tracing the corner of your mouth while his own lips slightly parted open. You thought he was going to kiss you and you really wanted him to, but you felt your heart sank in your chest when he pressed his pretty lips into a smile, looking back up at your eyes and let go the hold in your face.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” You got up dropping your brush and palette to the floor and turned to him; he could barely react when you grabbed the collar of his shirt in your fist and pulled him down to your height, crashing your lips against his. You kissed him hungerly, melting at the sweet taste of his lips, before parting away from him and looking at his eyes still covered in shock. You felt your ears burning up, but still managed to talk. “Well, you don’t have to look that surprised.”
He chucked, getting out of the sudden shock and his hands grabbed your hips, pressing you against him. Yeah sure, he had played just a little with you trying to get a good reaction from you, but this? He couldn’t imagine you’d react like this and, being completely honest, he loved it.
Soobin hummed delighted when you closed the distance between your lips again, your hands sliding to the back of his neck, tugging at his soft hair. Soon your back was pressed against the cold wall of the classroom, sending shivers down your spin. You felt the hardness of Soobin’s cloth dick rubbing against your tight as his hips started bucking up, making you gasp softly against his mouth, his tongue meeting yours at your sudden open mouth.
His hands moved down to grab your ass, rubbing harder against you before lifting you up easily to match his height, pressing your against the wall. Your legs rounded his waist and pressed him impossibly closer to you, your core aching while he rubbed up his still clothed, hard cock against you, barely being able to relief some ache. Breaking the kiss, Soobin started leaving a trail of wet, open-mouthed kisses from your neck to your ear, licking experimentally and moaning against it. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head; he moaned so fucking prettily.
“Fuck baby, I missed you so bad,” he whined, slowing down the movements in his hips while locking his lips with yours again, his tongue against yours owning every inch of your mouth. His grip on your loosened before he placing you back down on your own feet. As soon as you stood on your own, he fell down on his knees looking up at you with pleadingly eyes, his hands caressing and squeezing your tights. “let me show you how much I have missed you, mmh?”
“Wa-wait” You gasped at the cold air hitting your skin when Soobin pulled down your overall pants to your ankles, leaving you exposed only with your panties and shirt in front of him. His long, slender middle finger slid against the wet cloth between your legs and you sighed, trying to press togheter your thighs. Soobin gave you an annoyed look and clicked his tongue before grabbing and putting over his shoulder one of your legs exposing you more to him, after throwing away your overall to a corner in the room.
“You’re so wet baby, did you miss me too?” He mumbled sliding your panties to a side and caressing your wet folds with his index finger. Your hips buckled and that made him chuckle. “Eager?” He got his face closer to your core, his breath hitting against your bare skin and kissed softly your clit, again making you flinch. “Want me to eat you up?”
“Soobin, hurry." You whined not liking his teasing at all. He obliged and pulled down your underwear, his eyes never leaving yours before he closed his mouth against your aching hole. Both of you groaned at the same time; Soobin at your such delicious taste, eyes rolling to the back of his head, and you at the way the man on his knees eat you up so good. "Mmh- agh, Soobin, s'good."
All the moans that came from your pretty-self went directly to his aching cock. He switched places with his mouth from your folds to your abandoned clit while inserting easily a finger and then two in you, in and out faster every time. You covered your mouth with a hand, biting down ignoring the fact that you were going to leave some marks on your skin, trying to appease all the noise that scaped uncontrollably from you.
Soobin groaned against you when you started grinding your pussy against his face, matching the pace of his fingers fucking into you. You were so close; you looked down and moaned at the beautiful image of the man eating you out so deliciously, cumming on his fingers. He switched againt his fingers for his mouth and rode you through your climax, hearing the sweet whimpers from your overstimulated self.
"Sob-soobin---fuck."
Your knees trembled and he helped you steady yourself up, putting down your leg and holding you tight by your waist. Soobin crashed his mouth against you making sure you'd taste yourself and started unbuckling his pants. He grabbed your hand and put it right over his hard dick, eyes piercing through you after pulling apart from your mouth.
“Feel that?” He questioned you, grinding against your hand while your eyes glued to his pretty swollen lips. “You make me so fucking hard, baby- god.”
“Soobin, please.” You whined; he smirked loving the way you’d say his name.
“Please what, princess? Say what you want.” You started rubbing your tights together, trying to relieve the aching between your legs.
“Need you to fuck me right now.”
Just as you said that Soobin pulled down his boxers, his hard, fat dick sticking up to his abdomen, the tip shiny from the pre-cum. You bit your lip; you wanted to eat him up so badly. But when he noticed the intention you had to get on your knees, he stopped you grabbing your hips harder, his dick trapped in between the two bodies.
“Where do you think you’re going? Thought you wanted me to fuck you?” He tilted his head and rose an eyebrow; you opened your mouth to reply but he cut you off. “I wanna pound so hard into you, baby so turn around and lift your pretty ass for me, okay?”
Soobin watched you turned to face the hall, putting your ass in full display for him, his hand wanking on his member, a soft gasp living his lips at the godly sight. He pressed his dick against your ass teasingly, grabbing your hips and pressing them against him. After some pleading from your part that had his cock twitching, he positioned the tip against your wet, so hot, entrance and planted a kiss on your back before pushing forward into you; his mouth forming a ‘o’ and a groan erupting from down his throat as you clenched around him, taking him so well.
“So tight for me, ri--ah- right?” He hissed feeling you sucking him up perfectly with your gummy walls while you grinded against his hips for more friction. He started pounding deeper into you, a moan scaping from you as you pressed against the wall trying not to fall. “So damn pretty.”
Soobin eyes were fixated where you and him met, licking his lips and whimpering when you’d clench around him. His pace fastened and he had to bite down on his lip so hard to avoid cumming when you started pounding against him as well, matching his pace. Your fingers rubbed against your knob, your eyes rolling to the back of your head, feeling so close to your climax.
Soobin slid his hand around your chest and grabbed your pretty neck, straightening you and pressing your back against his agitated chest. His mouth reached your ear and he started moaning for you, one hand pressing on your neck, the other pushing his fingers into your mouth while his dick devoured your insides.
“You take me so damn well, baby- fuck.“ He groaned, feeling you clenching at his words. “So fucking pretty, please, make me feel good and cum over my dick, okay?”
It didn’t take more for you to cum, Soobin panting at the feeling of your juices covering his throbbing dick and he thrusted a few more times before cumming too, ropes of cum filling you. He didn’t stop thursting into you until there was a white ring of cum at the base of his dick and you were whimpering so hard that even the fingers in your mouth couldn’t muffle down the sounds.
Soobin turned you around after pulling out of yourself and kissed your lips, not leaving you catch your breath. His hands cupping your face and rubbing sweetly.
“I think…” You said after pulling apart between agitated breaths while Soobin helped you put back your clothes. “We should get out of here before someone comes.”
“Good idea.” He put back on his own trousers and gently kissed your lips again, before going for his stuff.
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“You looked so fucked up right now.”
“Gee, thanks.”
Soobin ignored Taehyun’s comment and put down his tray of food on the cafeteria table. He knew he looked bad, after all he had go back late to his place last night and of course, his racing mind and heart hadn't let him sleep at all so he had no other choice but to work on his writing which had resulted in him finally finishing up the submission poetry for the contest and sending it up.
That was why he still had some bed hair and bags under his eyes that thankfully his glasses covered almost completely. Still if you’d look up at him from close, like his friend Taehyung did, you could noticed his sleep deprived self.
He started munching down his lunch when his eyes landed on you walking into the cafeteria, mindlessly looking down at your phone instead of where you were going. Soobin’s eyes were glued to you, his mind flashing back to yesterday, he fought the smile on his face.
Of course, his urge to smile really died when someone sneaked from behind you and hugged your waist, lifting you up in the air and making you gasp in surprise before giggling so beautifully. He hated it. Soobin watched the way Yeonjun put you down before kissing your cheek and hugging your shoulders, walking you to a free table.
“Oh my god, what did that salad even do to you?” Taehyun asked concerned watching Soobin stab furiously the poor lettuce, an annoyed grimace on his face. When his friend didn’t answer him, Taehyun looked where Soobin’s eyes were and hummed as if he got everything. “Are you jealous? Do you like her?”
But Soobin didn’t answer. He just watched carefully how Yeonjun placed a tray of food for you and opened his mouth, you spoon-feeding him before eating yourself.
“Are friends usually that close to each other?” He mumbled to himself but Taehyun perfectly caught that and snickered, earning a death glare from his friend. His eyes went back to you, chatting non-stop with Yeonjun who’s face lazily rested in the palm of his hand while listening and nodding to whatever you were saying.
Taehyun was actually scared Soobin would brake the fork on his hand when Beomgyu joined you and Yeonjun on the table, ruffling your hair and placing down some pudding on your tray. That should be me, thought Soobin, glaring at the boys surrounding you. His eyes met Yeonjun who, for a second, looked defiant into Soobin’s eyes, but then his gaze softened and he interrupted you mid-sentence, lifting up his finger in Soobin’s direction.
Soobin did felt his nerves shutting down and himself relaxing when you turned around and looked at him with your beautiful, so soft, lips stretching into a pretty smile and waving your hand in his direction. Soobin smiled lightly and waved back.
“So you two fucked yesterday?” Repeated Yeonjun earning a glare from you while you snapped your head at him.
“You should scream it out loud in case nobody else heard you.” You told him feeling your cheeks burning up when two girls from the table next to yours turned to look at your curiously.
“Sure thing. Hey! Y/n and Soobin are fuc- Mhm!” You shoved some untouched food into your friend’s mouth muffling whatever the fuck he was going to say and ignored the annoyed look he gave you, munching the food. “You could have killed me."
“I wish.” Gyu mumbled.
“Ah, please!” Yeonjun pulled your chair closer to his and trapped you in between his arms, not letting you a chance of scaping. “You both know you’d be so bored without me, I’m the actual fun part of this friendship."
Taehyun seriously thought Soobin would stab Yeonjun with his plastic fork any minute. Slowly, he took the mortal weapon from his friend’s hand and replaced it with an apple. If looks could kill, Yeonjun would be ten feet underground already.
That day, Soobin didn’t show at your classroom which only made your heart sank, barely being able to concentrate in your painting. As you confessed to your friends, you had really started to like this pretty boy but it scared you so much that you two would only be a fling.
A sighed scaped your lips as you walked down the hall in complete darkness after turning off the light from your classroom. The cold of the night hit you as soon as you put your foot outside and you hurried to the entrance where the same police office man of everyday nodded in your direction.
“Hey pretty.”
Soobin waited for you outside on the other side of the entrance. His back rested against the wall and his arms crossed over his chest. He smiled softly at you and waited for you to react. You, on the other hand, started malfunctioning. Was it possible that he was there just to fuck again? What was the situation between you two?
“Hey,” You answered, barely smiling and looking away from his intense eyes. He took a step away from the wall and closer to you, making you flinch but you managed to lock eyes with his. “you’re pretty late.”
“Am I?” He nibbled down at his bottom lip, feeling nervous all of a sudden. “I had some thinking to do, sorry I didn’t show up.”
“It’s fine, it’s… it’s not like you had to-
“I like spending time with you.” He cut you off, knowing where you sentence was going but he wasn’t going to let it happen. Your mouth hanged open in the air, the words losing sound and you just nodded. “So, I have something to confess.” You hummed, letting him know you were listening. “Today I almost went to prison.”
“What?”
“I really, really, wanted to kick Yeonjun in the face today.” Your eyebrows knitted and he feared you were going to get mad at him, but instead you answered:
“I mean... I get it, but why?"
Soobin chuckled softly and took a step closer to you, cupping your hands in his. “Don’t you know why?”
“...I can thing about some things but I’m not really sure until you tell me.”
“I like you,” He lifted your hands closer to his mouth and placed a kiss on your knuckles, his eyes never leaving yours. “like so much. I really like you.”
You grinned, feeling the anxiety from all day’s lifting from your chest. Your arms hugged the boy’s torso and placing down your head against his chest, you heard his beating heart.
“I hope this is not a rejection hug?” He mumbled burying his head in your neck and hugging you tightly against him. You chuckled and kissed his cheek.
“I like you too, silly. I was actually so sad you didn’t show up today, I thought this was a onetime thing for you.”
“Well, it was actually two.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I know, but it isn’t like that.” Soobin lifted his head and cupped your face in his big hands. “Actually, there’s something I have to show you. Do wanna crash at my place tonight?”
You sat down on Soobin’s couch sipping at the warm coffee he had made for you and waited impatiently for him to finally show you what he had written for the poesy contest. He took a seat next to you, red tinting his cheeks as he offered you his notepad with slightly shaky hands. You smiled and took it, leaning in closer to him and making yourself comfortable in his embrace before starting to read:
She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that’s best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes; Thus mellowed to that tender light Which heaven to gaudy day denies. One shade the more, one ray the less, Had half impaired the nameless grace Which waves in every raven tress, Or softly lightens o’er her face; Where thoughts serenely sweet express, How pure, how dear their dwelling-place. And on that cheek, and o’er that brow, So soft, so calm, yet eloquent, The smiles that win, the tints that glow, But tell of days in goodness spent, A mind at peace with all below, A heart whose love is innocent!
That night, Soobin and you fell asleep in his couch with the background sound of the tv on and animation movie’s credits playing on screen. Your body on top of his, with your face burred in the crook of his neck, one hand placed against his chest moving up and down from his soft breaths and the other intertwined with his free hand, while his other hand hugged you tightly to him.
“And you said he wrote this about you?” Gyu repeated incredulously, looking at the screen of his phone that showed this year’s poetry winner posted on the uni’s page. You scoffed at your friend’s remarks and took the phone out of your ear, placing it near your boyfriend’s. Soobin looked at you confused.
“Tell him I’m your muse.” You said silently. Soobin snickered and held your hand that grabbed the phone.
“Hello? Ah, Beomgyu, hi. Yes? Yeah, thanks, I’m so happy right now. Actually…” Soobin’s dreamy eyes went up to look at you and his smiled widened. “Being real honest with you, I couldn’t have won without y/n, she’s my most perfect muse- Hello? Beomgyu? I think he died.”
a/n: this poem actually belongs to george gordon (lord byron) because i'm not that of a brilliant poestist (am not at all)
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Text
Out of the Spotlight (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)
Summary: Garcia does a little totally harmless snooping and discovers Spencer’s secret girlfriend is a movie star.
Word Count: 3.2k
Notes: has it been almost two years since i posted on here? maybeee don’t worry about it. this is just pure fluff and some penelope/derek shenanigans
Masterlist
~~~
Penelope Garcia is, occasionally, too curious for her own good. She really doesn’t mean to snoop in her friend’s lives like this, but to be fair, she didn’t know she was snooping in Spencer’s life when she started. She thought she was just learning more about her most recent celebrity obsession; rising star and incredible actress, Y/N Y/L/N. She hadn’t even gone too far with it yet, really! It all started after she’d left the movie theater, where she finally got to see Y/N’s newest movie with Derek. He dropped her off at home, and she decided to follow the actress on instagram and scroll through some of her posts. Which is when she found one from three months ago that looked weirdly familiar. It was just a picture of some bookshelves, but she couldn’t shake the feeling. Then she saw that Y/N had tagged the location, and it was in D.C. The celebrity hadn’t given up the exact name of the bookstore; a slight annoyance for Penelope, but she knew it was probably just so Y/N would be able to visit the place again without a crowd of fans or paparazzi, so she’d let it slide this time. Penelope isn’t one to frequent bookstores, but she remembered Spencer had taken herself and JJ to a small bookshop when they had decided their new year's resolutions would be to read more often. Spencer kept trying to get them to read the classics, but both women were shopping the romance section, much to Spencer’s annoyance. So, she called an amused Derek back to her place so he could take her there.
“So we’re doing this because some actress may have been to the same bookstore three months ago?” He asked, driving with one hand as he talked to Penelope. 
“Well when you say it like that it sounds silly!” She said, still scrolling through the instagram page. “Besides, it’s not just that, a lot of these pictures are in Quantico! What’s a big name actress like her doing here?” Since the discovery of the bookshop picture, she’d found 3 more that were obviously in the city; a well known coffee shop, a mall Penelope has spent way too much money at, and a picture of a sign from the nearest highway. There were some others that she thought might be, but there was no definitive proof to be found.
“She probably just has family here, baby girl.”
“Um, do I look like an amateur to you, hot stuff? The first thing I looked for was her family, who are all happily living far, far, away, thank you very much.” The next picture she scrolled to gave her pause. It was a picture of a TV with a still from Y/N’s breakout show on it, but a coffee table, with someone’s sock-clad feet on it, was just barely visible. The socks were covered with the logo for her show. It was captioned “Will it ever stop being weird to see myself on TV?”
“Does this look familiar to you?” Penelope held the phone in Derek’s line of sight, causing him to swerve the car a little and push her hand out of the way.
“Do you think that could wait until I’m not driving?” Penelope just rolled her eyes, taking a screenshot of the picture for future reference. In just a few short minutes, they were pulling into the parking lot of the bookstore. Penelope rushed in, with Derek strolling behind her. She quickly found the spot that was featured in Y/N’s instagram post. 
“See! Told ya it was here!” She said, showing Derek the picture so he could compare it himself. 
“Yup, definitely it is the same place. I still don’t see why this is a big deal though.”
Penelope opened her mouth to argue with him, but was interrupted by the store’s owner; a little old lady. “Can I help you two find anything today?” 
“Oh, no ma’am. I just saw your store on my favorite actress’s instagram, and wanted to see it for myself.” Penelope explained, feeling a little bad for wasting the woman’s time. Maybe she’d find a book to buy, even though she’s not even finished with the last book she bought here.
“Oh! Miss Y/L/N, right? She and her boyfriend are around here all the time! What a nice little couple; her boyfriend is a little skinny though, I really need to make some cookies for him the next time they come by.” The woman explained, walking over to the wall of the store to point to a framed picture of herself and Y/N, signed and all. 
“She has a boyfriend?” Penelope asked, shocked that she hadn’t at least figured it out. In all her snooping of Y/N’s instagram, she hadn’t seen a hint of a boyfriend. 
“Oh, yes. They’ve been coming around for, goodness, six months now? They always buy each other books, it’s so adorable. He always buys her one of the classics, I think it was Romeo and Juliet last time. She usually gets a romance of some kind.” That made sense; the most recent picture on her instagram was one of two books; Romeo and Juliet, and The Duke and I. Eventually, Penelope and Derek made their way out of the bookstore, and that was the end of Penelope’s investigation of Y/N Y/L/N’s life.
Well, the end of Penelope’s investigation for that week.
It’s not like Penelope could track down Y/N Y/L/N’s secret boyfriend…not without seriously abusing her FBI database and maybe breaking a few privacy laws. She almost forgot about the trip to the bookstore, but during a rare case where she actually got to join the team on the jet, she noticed Spencer was reading something out of character. 
“Uh, Reid?” He looked up from the book he was reading.
“What’s up?” He said, quietly, as everyone else was sleeping after the long case.
“Why are you reading The Duke and I? I thought you were a total book snob?” She asked, sitting across from him.
“Oh, um,” Nothing could hide the slight blush that appeared on his face. “A friend of mine told me to read it.”
“Like a girlfriend?” Penelope teased, watching as his blush became even more noticeable.
“Y-yeah. Uh. Like a girlfriend.” Spencer opened the book back up, hiding behind its cover and promptly ending the conversation. He brought his feet up onto the small table in between them, causing his pants to ride up just enough to show off his socks. One sock was just plain black, but the other one was covered in the logo for a familiar TV show.
“Are you a fan of Y/N Y/L/N too?” Spencer just looked up in confusion.
“What?”
“Your sock, that’s her show right? It’s really good, I watched it in like a day.”
Spencer’s eyes went back to the book. “Uh, yeah. It’s a great show.”
Sure, Penelope thought he was acting a little weird, but that’s just Spencer. He doesn’t talk about his life outside of work too often, but she was glad he at least told her about the girlfriend. Even if he wouldn’t tell her her name, she was sure she could figure something out. So the next day, she updated Derek on her new information about Spencer.
“Wait wait wait, Spencer was wearing socks with the show’s logo? And reading The Duke and I?” The two of them had been walking towards the BAU kitchen to get a cup of coffee to help them get through the paperwork day, but Derek had stopped walking abruptly when Penelope gave him those details.
“That’s what you’re most interested in? Not the fact that Spencer has a girlfriend?” Penelope asked.
“C’mon baby girl, it’s obvious that Spencer’s been dating someone.”
“What! You knew! And you didn’t tell me?”
Derek laughed, resuming their walk towards coffee and letting Penelope hurry along behind him. “Sorry cupcake, I figured you knew too. He’s just been so happy for the past few months, in the way only a lady would make him.”
“Ugh, ok, well some of us aren’t profilers, Derek. What’s so important about the socks and book?” 
“Well,” Derek grabbed the coffee pot, pouring some into Penelope’s mug as he spoke. “Just a few weeks ago you dragged me to a bookstore, where we learned about a certain couple. A couple where the guy likes classics and the girl likes romance, right?”
“Yeah-Oh! No! There’s no way you’re suggesting what I think you’re suggesting.”
“And didn’t Spencer get flustered when you mentioned her?” He asked, now pouring the coffee into his own mug.
“Oh my god! The socks!” Penelope pulled her phone out of the pocket, quickly making her way to the picture she’d saved. She showed it to Derek once again, this time zooming in on the coffee table. “Those are the socks he was wearing! On her instagram!”
“Uh, why are you staring at a picture of Spencer’s living room?” Penelope jumped, not having noticed that JJ was standing over her shoulder, looking at the picture on Penelope’s phone.
“Wait, you’re sure this is his living room? Like, 100%?” Penelope had never actually been to his place before.
“Uh, yeah, he babysits Henry a lot. Why, what’s the big deal about it?”
“Oh my god, Spencer is dating a movie star. Spencer Reid is dating a movie star!” Penelope couldn’t help but jump up and down, almost spilling her coffee.
And then Spencer walked into the room, promptly ending the gossip between coworkers before Spencer could hear. 
Derek had made her promise to wait until Spencer was ready to talk about his relationship, but after an agonizing week, she felt like she was going to burst at the seams. So when she got a notification on their night off that Y/N had posted a new picture, she was aching to get more information about the secret relationship. This was, again, a picture in what she now knows is Spencer’s living room. This time, there was an open box of pizza on the table. It was captioned, “Lovely night in.”
So, naturally, Penelope immediately headed to Spencer’s.
~~~
Y/N doesn’t think it’s possible to be any more happy than she is right now.
8 months ago she’d just ended what was possibly the most disastrous relationship in the history of humankind. She’d made the classic mistake of dating a co-star; an older guy who was well known to be a bit of a playboy. The relationship had been extremely public; everything from their dates to their fights were somehow captured by paparazzi. His fans hated her, her fans hated him, and worst of all, the network was pushing them to be even more public in the hopes of gaining more viewers. At the end of it all, she was insanely grateful her character wouldn’t be returning for the next season as she was already booked for a movie. The only thing worse than breaking up with your co-star is having to continue playing his love interest. 
And just when she was at her absolute lowest, having sworn off of ever dating someone in the spotlight again, she ran into Spencer. 
After wrapping filming for a movie in Atlanta, the only reason she was even in D.C. was because her flight was forced to land early; a sudden storm was arriving and there was no way the plane would safely make it to New York. What started as an hour delay turned to three, then four, and before she knew it Y/N was stuck in town for a weekend. 
She spent basically an entire day hiding away in her hotel room, so Y/N just had to get out and do something. It was still raining cats and dogs, and she’d never been in the city before, so she just googled the closest places that were still open. Luckily, there was a small bookstore just down the street, and there were a few books she’d heard about that she hadn’t had the chance to buy yet. So she put on her coat and practically ran to the store. 
She was drenched and already regretting the decision to leave the hotel room by the time she walked into the building, but there was no point in turning back now. The place was practically empty anyways, Y/N only spotted an older woman reading a novel at the cash register. She slowly began browsing the shelves, not looking for anything in particular.
When she rounded one of the corners, however, she ran right into someone’s chest.
“Shit! I’m so sorry!” She immediately apologized, looking up to find a cute man staring back at her. “I wasn’t paying any attention, I assumed I was the only one in here.”
“That’s alright, I, um, I wasn’t paying attention either.”
The guy standing before her was holding various books, all reminding Y/N of the books she was supposed to read (but never actually read) for her high school English classes. “So, do you exclusively read books written before the 20th century or are you just taking a college class in-” She read the title of the book on top of his pile; a collection of short stories by Edgar Allen Poe. “-depressing gothic short stories?”
He laughed, rolling his eyes a bit. “I just like a bit of a challenge when reading. And it’s a rainy day, which calls for ‘depressing gothic short stories,’ not–” He glanced at the one book she’d picked up, a cartoon covered book called Red, White, and Royal Blue. “What I can only assume is a cheesy romance.”
Despite his insult of her choice in books, Y/N couldn’t help the smile on her face. “Well maybe I like reading books that are actually entertaining, not reading so I can be confused by convoluted metaphors.” 
Just as he opened his mouth to respond, their conversation was disrupted. “Y/N Y/L/N? Aren’t you from that doctor show on television?” Y/N turned to see the woman that had been at the register earlier slowly walking over. 
“That’s me! It’s nice to meet you!” Y/N’s real smile suddenly switched to a smaller, more practiced one. It’s not that she didn’t love meeting fans–she’d just been enjoying a conversation with someone who wasn’t treating her differently. 
“Oh I knew I recognized you! My granddaughter loves her show, she was so upset when you decided to transfer to that fancy british hospital and…” The woman started rambling on a bit about the stuff her character had done and how her granddaughter reacted to it. Y/N glanced over at the guy she’d been talking to, who seemed entertained by the whole interaction. “...Anyways, do you think we could take a picture? My granddaughter will just never believe you were here!”
“Of course, um, do you mind taking it for us…?”
“Spencer. Yeah, I’ll take the picture for you. Do you have a camera, Mrs. Waverly?” Clearly the guy, Spencer, was a bit of a regular here if he knew her by name. 
“Yes, yes, it’s around here somewhere…” The woman scrambled off, muttering to herself about where she’d last seen the camera.
“So…” Spencer spoke first, breaking the somewhat awkward silence while they waited for Mrs. Waverly. “You read cheesy romances and star in cheesy Grey’s Anatomy knockoffs?”
“Hey! It wasn’t a Grey’s-” His pointed look made her stop. “Ok, it was totally a Grey’s Anatomy knockoff, but I’m not on the show anymore so you can’t make fun of me for it!”
Mrs. Waverly finally reappeared, with an old polaroid camera in her hands. The two quickly took a picture, which Y/N happily signed for the woman. By the time both Y/N and Spencer had bought their books, the rain had slowed to a light drizzle. 
“So, um…” Spencer started, but trailed off, not knowing what to say.
“My hotel is just down the street.” Y/N said, pointing in the right direction. Spencer’s eyes widened a bit before Y/N realized what she’d said. “Not that I’m like, inviting you to my hotel room, I’m not, that’d be crazy, I just-” She cut herself off, trying to not ramble anymore. “Do you wanna walk with me? Tell me more about your depressing book?”
Luckily, Spencer wasn’t put off by her rambling. “I’d love to. Poe isn’t always depressing, really…” He started, as the two of you walked slowly towards your hotel.
From there, the short walk turned into a coffee date the next day, which turned into long FaceTimes while one or both of you were in different cities, which lead to where you are now; 8 months deep in a relationship and finally in town with Spencer. He’d still have work of course, but you’d be in town for the next two months as your next job wasn’t starting for a while. 
The two of you were basically in an extended honeymoon phase. Only your closest friends knew that you were dating anyone, so you never had to worry about it leaking to the press. You figured when the two of you got more serious you’d eventually have to go public with the relationship, but for now it was nice having something just for you. 
You were in Spencer’s apartment, scrolling through Netflix looking for something new to watch, when Spencer arrived home from work.
“I think my team knows that we’re dating.” 
“What?”
Spencer made his way to the couch, laying down next to Y/N as he continued, “Well obviously JJ knows, but she said she wouldn’t tell anyone. I’m sure Hotch and Rossi at least have figured out that I’m dating someone, but I don’t think they care enough to figure out who. But today Garcia and Morgan were just acting weird. I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if-”
Spencer was cut off by a knock at the door. “Spencer Reid if you don’t open this door right now I’m making Derek kick it down!” 
“Let me guess…that’s Garcia.” Y/N said, laughing as Spencer rolled his eyes and got up to open the door. 
“Spencer, are you actually dating a movie star? And you didn’t tell me?” Garcia complained, not yet seeing Y/N sitting on the couch as she entered the room, solely focused on Spencer. Derek walked in next, immediately noticing Y/N and smiling at her. Y/N made her way over, trying not to laugh at Garcia’s widening eyes when she noticed her. 
“Sorry, I think it’s my fault that he didn’t tell you. We’re just keeping things quiet right now.” You explained, “I’m Y/N, by the way.” 
Derek was the first to grab your hand. “Derek Morgan. I’m sorry about all this, she was just curious.”
“I’m Penelope! And you’re Y/N and I love your work so much you don’t even know!” Penelope began rambling, taking Y/N’s arm in hers and leading her over to the couch as she talked about her favorite parts of Y/N’s movie. Derek and Spencer slowly followed, talking amongst themselves.
“So…Spencer Reid and Y/N Y/L/N. How’d that happen?” Derek asked. 
Spencer smiled, thinking back to that night 8 months ago. “We met in a bookstore last year.”
Derek laughed, because of course Reid would meet a girl at a bookstore. “You happy?”
Again, he smiled. “I’ve never been happier.”
~~~
taglist
@avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @kenzi-woycehoski @esposadomd @andreasworlsboring101 @peculiarinsomniac 
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fiapartridge · 10 months
Note
Part 2 to cruel summer pls
cruel summer pt. 2 | jack hughes
"i snuck in through the garden gate every night that summer just to seal my fate..."
jack hughes x fem!reader
read part one!!: cruel summer
summary: you and jack have spent the entire summer keeping your relationship a secret, but when a party and feelings of doubt gets thrown into the mix, things get a little hectic...
warning(s): swearing, some angst, happy ending
author's note: omg i procrastinated so much, but here ya go
Tumblr media
You were in an intense game of chicken with Luke, Duker, and Eddy when Jack walked back to the house to grab you a towel, using it as an excuse to wrap you in his arms after your game in the pool. On his way in, he noticed his mom sitting on one of the couches on the back patio, waving him over. 
“My boy. You get more handsome with each second,” she beamed, patting the empty space next to her on the couch.
“Thanks, Mom,” Jack obliged, sitting next to Ellen, though he seemed worlds away. His eyes always drifting towards the girl of the hour, of the year, hell, of his life.
“Look how beautiful she’s gotten.”
He absentmindedly nodded. “Yeah, I can see.” He knew she was talking about you without even saying your name, because whenever Jack was there, your name wasn’t so far behind. “Have you ever hid something?” he asked. “Something really important and you want to tell people, but you’re just… scared, I guess? Of their reactions.”
Ellen smiled softly. She always had a feeling that there was something going on between the two of you, even before you guys moved to New Jersey. There was always something lingering— some sort of electricity, longing. 
“Well, if the people around you love you, there’s nothing to be afraid of,” she matched his gaze, connecting it to you. She was glad it was you; she couldn’t picture him with anyone else. “And let me tell you this,” she smiled, running her hand through his hair. “Everyone here loves you. Get some weight off your chest. Tell them.”
*ೃ༄
“Your mom just bombarded me with a charity gala invite,” you scoffed, cracking open a beer from the fridge and leaning your back against the counter across from Jack. 
“They’re still doing those events?”
“Charity don’t stop, Hughesy.”
He shook his head. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“No, of course you did,” you smirked. “I am now telling everyone that you hate charities. Jack The Charity Hater.”
He scrunched his nose, shaking his head. “Not a catchy name,” he said, walking closer to you until his hands rested comfortably against your hips. 
“I guess I’ll just have to think of a better one,” you kissed his lips quickly, your eyes automatically swimming over to the entrance of the kitchen, making sure no one was there to witness it. It’s not like you didn’t want them to know, you did, you really did, but you didn’t know if Jack was ready. All of his relationships were with girls that he met on some random day in his life that have absolutely zero connection with his family. You? You were the total opposite. Luke was your best friend, Ellen was like your second mom, Quinn was your favorite person to talk shit about people with, and Jim bought you a BBQ grill for your birthday just so you guys could be grill buddies. 
To say that you had a connection with his family would be an understatement. They were your family, too. And you didn’t want to lose that.
“What’s the theme this year?” 
“Masquerade,” you responded, moving your hands to play with the hair at the nape of his neck. 
“Very original,” he smirked. “You going with anybody?”
You rolled your eyes, somehow bringing yourself closer to him, your lips ghosting over his. “I was hoping to go with my boyfriend, but we haven’t exactly made things official.”
Jack sighed, backing away from you. He scratched the back of his neck, the air turning between you turning cold. “Hey, about that… I just think—”
You bit your lip, looking everywhere except Jack. “No, I, uh,” you shook your head, stammering. “I get it.”
“Y/N,” he held onto your arm, trying not to let you go, but as Cole stumbled into the kitchen in search of a couple more beers for the boys, he had to let go— even if it was the last thing he wanted to do.
“I’ll see you at the party,” you said. With a bittersweet smile, you turned away, wondering if this was still what you wanted, and if you still had the motivation to keep it going.
*ೃ༄
By nighttime, the party was in full swing. Every corner of the ballroom was crowded with high-end outfits and conversations about what new car they bought, or how they just came back from a trip to Europe, or Asia. 
As for you, you sat at a table by the wall, enviously watching couples slow dance, wishing that it were you and Jack. Your mother and Ellen were a few seats away, engaged in gossip about neighborhood drama, Jack sat next to you, pretending not to stare when you glanced in his direction, and the rest of the boys were nowhere to be seen.
“Y/N,” Jack said, bringing you back to reality. “Earlier today, I—”
“Hey, Hughesy,” Trevor suddenly appeared at the table, a girl strapped to each of his arms. “Meet Gina and Teresa. Apparently they’ve been coming here every summer since they were born, just like you two.”
Jack smiled. “That’s great, Trev, but—”
“They’re single,” Trevor interrupted. “Come on, man, get off your ass and let’s go,” he said, pulling Jack away from the table; from you.
“I can’t, Trev,” Jack shook his head, trying to get back to you. 
“Why not?” Trevor whined. “We have two girls that actually want to dance with us, like we don’t have to convince them, or beg, or anything!”
Jack sighed. The only girl he wanted to be with was you. “I just can’t, Trev.”
“But why?”
As you watched them talk on the dancefloor, you realized that you couldn’t do this any longer: the secrecy, the lying, the kissing in closed spaces. You couldn’t do it anymore, and if Jack wasn’t trying to make an effort, why should you?
You downed your drink in one gulp, grabbed your purse, and made your way to the grand stairs in search of the nearest exit to get you far, far away from this stupid event on this stupid night with your stupid boyfriend that no one even knew about, so you couldn’t even tell anyone even if you tried!
All you felt was alone.
“Because,” Jack shook his head, his gaze finally settling on you— the girl who was fleeing the party like it was infested with the color orange (you told Jack that that color gave you the ‘heebie jeebies’ the first night you slept over at his apartment. Something about your childhood and a party at Chuck E. Cheese, don’t ask about it). “Because… I’m in love with Y/N and she’s leaving,” he mindlessly said, pulling away from Trevor’s grasp and running after you. 
He pushed through people on the dancefloor, knocked over a couple of waiters, holding hors d'oeuvres and glasses of wine, jumped over abandoned masquerade masks scattered over the glossy floor, and it was still not enough to get to you. Jack cursed the weekends you guys spent in New Jersey doing 10-mile runs in which you always made it home before him. 
Walking up the steps to the lake house, Jack didn’t even know what to say to you. He wanted to tell everyone about you and your relationship, but was he ready for that? I mean, what would his parents say? What would your parents say? His brothers? His friends? Everything would change between everyone if they found out. Was it worth it?
Were you worth it?
Shaking his head, he knocked on the door. It was his family’s home, but you were written over every space on the lot. The place was as much yours as it was theirs, would all of that be ruined if the truth were to come out?
The questions were stupid and the answers were obvious. Jack knew the answers the whole time. Hell, he knew them from the moment you told him you were moving to New Jersey. Of course you were worth it. You were worth the world. You were the world. 
It only took a couple of seconds before the door opened, revealing you in pajamas and duck slippers that your dad got you when you were 13 years old. They made ‘quack’ sounds every step you took, and you told your dad that you were too old for gifts like this, but on nights like these, it felt comforting for you. It made you feel safe.
And even though you were clad in duck slippers and embarrassing pajamas, Jack still looked at you as if you were the belle of the ball. He couldn’t help it. You were everything to the boy.
“What are you doing here, Hughes?” you spat, not wanting to look at him while simultaneously wanting to wrap your arms around him and ask him what took him so long. 
He shrugged, hands in his pockets, rolling back and forth on the balls of his feet. "I live here, too."
"I mean, why are you here instead of dancing with... what are their names? Tina and Marissa?" 
“Gina and Teresa,” he corrected. You scoffed, attempting to close the door on him but, him being a hockey player and all, he was able to hold it open for a lot longer than you could manage to close it. “I didn’t have enough time to compliment your dress at the party.”
You rolled your eyes. “If you think you can fix this with flattery, you’ll be sorely mistaken.”
“That’s— that’s not what I was trying to do.”
"So what are you trying to do because, frankly, you're just wasting my time, Hughes—" Before you could finish your sentence, Jack interrupted with a sudden, unexpected kiss. Time stood still as his lips met yours, and suddenly, you forgot about the girls, and the secrecy, and your families. The only thing that remained clear was this: you and Jack were meant to be together— secretly, or not. 
Pulling back, Jack’s eyes locked with yours, sincere evident in his nervous voice. “I know that I was scared before, but Y/N, I want everyone to know that I’m in love with you— and there’s nothing anyone can do to stop me from loving you any less, like it’s physically impossible,” he chuckled. “I’m in love with you, I’ve been in love with you since we were eight years old, it’s always been you… It’s never not been you, Y/N.”
“It’s always been you, too, Hughesy,” you smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck. Before you could envelope him in another kiss, a round of cheers erupted behind you guys— in the driveway, specifically. 
“About time you guys finally said something, thought we were gonna have to force it out of you guys,” Eddy laughed, Duker and Turcs joining in with him. 
To say you and Jack were confused was quite the understatement. 
“You guys knew?” you asked, hiding behind Jack’s shoulder. 
“What, do you think we’re stupid?” Trevor asked, a grin dancing across his lips. “It took two girls and a party for you to finally admit it, but God, it feels good.”
“So it was a set up,” Jack added.
“Well,” Cole squinted. “More of a… push.”
“Exactly, a push,” Luke grinned. He walked up the patio stairs and slung his arms over both of your shoulders. “So, when am I calling you Y/N Hughes?”
Laughing, you and Jack playfully pushed Luke off of you. With everyone in tow, you walked back inside the lake house, the sound of chatter filling the air. Grinning, you told the group about the time Jack tripped over a rock while attempting to ask you out. It felt nice that the secret was finally out in the open.
The world finally knew how much you loved Jack Hughes, and how much he loved you. Maybe it wasn’t so much of a cruel summer after all.
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nexi11tarot · 4 months
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why you're an icon (pac)
maybe a year ago i started (but did not finish) a series where I did posts describing why you're an icon. Today I plan on continuing that- this reading will describe why people are drawn to you and what they love most about you. today's muse is Fairouz, also spelled Fayrouz, Fairuz in English. Her name in Lebanese (hopefully pls correct if mistranslated <3) :  فيروز, check out my services if you're interested in a personal reading : services
Fairouz is one of the most famous Lebanese singers and is considered today to be a major icon in the Arab world. Listening to her is my gateway to middle eastern music especially arabic pop in the 60's and 70's. One of my favorite things about her is the way she performed, according to her Wikipedia page she would be known to take a rigid, cold stance while performing. She claimed that the nature of her performances is because she is singing as if she were praying. a user on Pinterest called her the middle eastern lana del rey and i will never recover. anyways, select your pile and I will have a song by the queen for you to listen to.
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PILE ONE-
cards: king of cups, queen of wands, 6 of cups, mars in pisces
song: Fayek Ya Hawa
you're a captivating, magnetic person. You have a way of capturing your passion with a almost childlike wonder, you remind people of what it's like to be a kid again and to just love something from the bottom of your heart. You have an ability to channel complex emotions from such a poetic perspective, you have this ability to channel your inner child when it comes to what you're passionate about. you possess a borderline psychic ability to portray emotions especially though creativity, you communicate things in such a way that it just resonates with so many people.
with the mars in Pisces card, this tells me that you are someone dedicated to understanding, empathizing and connecting with people. you have an unlimited range of creativity and a very developed imagination. you have such a way of wanting to help people feel understood, you're strongly motivated to act based on how you feel and as well as how other people feel. this motivation may even be self sacrificing at times. people love that you have a boundless sense of empathy. you dont withhold sympathy for anyone, you have the capability to connect with people regardless of who they are or how far they are from you.
PILE TWO
your cards- mars in leo, the emperor, two of swords
song: Sayyef ya sayf
you carry of confidence that demands power. You make decisions with certainty that regardless of what you do, you will always end up exactly where you need to be. People love that you're not the type to listen to other people, you drown out the voices of people trying to distract you and challenge the inner strength you have.
You have the tendency to take over and lead, and even if you arent aware of it, you influence people around you. the influence you have over the people in your life cannot be understated. you thrive when you are able to direct others. in fact you presence and personality type may be ''overbearing'' for some people, you're just not the type to shy away from expressing yourself and taking the lead. to some that may be perceived as confrontational and overpowering but many people actually love that you weren't born to be a follower.
people like you just know how to get things done. you excel at everything you do and take pride in your work. people love your ''ego'' and confidence. you're not afraid to overshine people. besides, its not your fault that people dim their own light.
PILE THREE
your cards: mars in taurus, page of cups and justice
song: Saalouny el nas
first of all, this pile has a clear foundation of right and wrong and you're willing to stand on that no matter what. people love that you're almost stubborn about what you believe. you're willing to go and fight for it and defend yourself against anyone.
but at the same time, this pile is very emotional and sensitive. your morals come straight from your heart. You're raw and vulnerable and you're willing to protect your heart more than anything else in this world. Sensitivity is seen as a weakness, but for you its your number one strength. its the quality that makes you willing to fend for yourself and other people. I knew someone like this in real life- upon first meeting her you might assume she was intimidating, scary, and even mean. but i watched this girl be brought to tears at the sound of a baby crying, I watched her fight against people who were stealing, I watched her loose her temper over anything that she felt disrespected her and her friends. By no means was she considered weak; she was vulnerable about what upset her, she was vulnerable about her mental health issues, and that made her strong and intimidating to people. it made me respect her more than anyone in my life. if you fucked with her, you were the one who ended up suffering. that's who this pile reminds me of.
I also feel that this pile is strongly motivated by their taste in fashion and luxury, people love your taste and its one of the things they remember about you.
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nipuni · 5 months
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Doctor Who status report again! Alright we are half way into S5 and I have opinions to share! These were our fist impressions of the differences after the last regen!
It may still be too soon to judge but there was a noticeable tonal shift in the series with the change in writers. It feels like the writing is suddenly taking itself a bit too seriously, it's moodier with less levity and humor in between. The banter feels more formulaic and often times too on the nose. The doctor also feels angrier, cockier, more self involved, which can be a great character arc on itself don't get me wrong but I think with Ten there was this contrast between his goofy front and what's underneath that made the switching so shocking and heart wrenching and I miss that! I'm also missing the reverence for life and optimism as the main driving theme I think? but again it's probably too early to say! It's also leaning a lot more on sex humor for some reason and I can't say I'm a fan but that's more of a personal choice. There is also a difference in the companion dynamic and arc that reads more YA but I'd have to watch more to tell. All this being said I feel it sounds harsh and like I don't like it but I do! I feel Matt Smith is adorable and does a great job, I loved "The Beast Below" so far that's been my favorite of this half of the season. I also think both Nicolas and I have such a huge bias towards Ten and DT in general that our judgement is compromised so take all of this with a grain of salt 🤣 we were really blown away by the first 4 seasons so it's going to be hard to top but I stay hopeful and we are enjoying ourselves nonetheless. Now onwards to the second half!
ALSO AHHH I'm so happy to see that you all enjoyed my last piece and there is still an audience for it even tho I'm a decade and a half late 😭❤️ I have so much more DW art in the works, I'm obsessed!! sadly I'm also terribly busy but I'm doing my best not to disappear for too long!!
Since so many of you have been in the fandom for years, if you have time to spare could you point me to artist's and writer's works that you love? I'm starved for fan works but I don't know where to look!! I'm partial to Ten but other than that I don't really have a preference 😊 I'd love to find more people who are into it too!
Anyway thank you for reading!!
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le-trash-prince · 6 months
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I feel like I’ve been able to read so many speculative fiction wlw books in the past few years that I get a little frustrated when ppl complain that wlw relationships are always sidelined in stories. So I’m just gonna make a list of the ones I’ve completed, for posterity. There are so many interesting books out there and all of these deserve more attention.
To reiterate, this is speculative fiction (sci-if/fantasy) where the primary relationship is wlw.
Ash: Chinese and fae influenced retelling of Cinderella (+Huntress, a prequel)
A Restless Truth: historical magical murder mystery set on a Titanic sister-ship. This is the second book in a series but my favorite so far
Burning Roses: European fairy-tale/Chinese legend mashup featuring older ladies
Cinderella is Dead: YA fairy tale dystopia
Crier’s War: human x android enemies to lovers political intrigue
Even Though I Knew the End: supernatural detective noir, super quick and super fun
In the Vanisher’s Palace: Viet influenced Beauty and the Beast where the Beast is a dragon lady
Juniper Harvey and the Vanishing Kingdom: middle school age mythological fantasy adventure, I wish I had this growing up
Labyrinth Lost: bruja fantasy underworld adventure
Legends and Lattes: Simple and sweet DND inspired cafe AU
Once and Future: King Arthur but in space with ladies. Wish this one had been poly
Roots of Chaos series: high fantasy with dragons and so many queers.
Strictly No Heroics: the struggles of villain henchmen
The Abyss Surrounds us/The Edge of the Abyss: kaiju pirates, enemies to lovers
The Burning Kingdoms Trilogy: desi epic fantasy, enemies to lovers
Last to Leave the Room: WFH doppleganger horror + toxic coworkers who hate each other (they really don’t)
Spear: Arthurian sapphics
The Locked Tomb: wlw necromancers in space. Enemies to ???
The Luminous Dead: spelunking thriller set on another planet—this one is fucky everyone should read it
The Memory Librarian: short stories set in Janelle Monae’s android world
The Mimicking of Known Successes: detective noir set on Jupiter—ex-lovers reunited by circumstance
The Red Scholar’s Wake: space pirates, enemies to lovers, human x spaceship
The Salvation Gambit: con-artists breaking out of a sentient prison-world ship
The Space Between Worlds: inter dimensional corporate exploitation, handler x agent mutual pining, this one is so underappreciated
The Witch and the Vampire: YA vampire x vampire hunter
This is How You Lose the Time War: everyone knows this one
We Set the Dark on Fire: YA Latine political intrigue, school rivals to lovers
If you have any others please add, I’m always looking to grow my reading list
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draco-after-dark · 2 months
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Dory Verse - Aftermath
small spoiler for the Feral JD au just so ya know
Rough draft of my favorite Dorse Verse boys seeing Feral again
(I did not re-read this shit so if spelling error you didn't see it)
It had been months, maybe a whole year since they had all last seen him.
Since Grey had last seen his chip buddy.
Since Eldest had last hung out with his therapy dog.
Since Hitman had last seen his comrade. His amego. His best friend.
‘Where are you Feral?’
At first, none of them had really batted an eye at Feral’s absence. The troll could be pretty unpredictable at times and it was always hard to tell when he was at the house or not. He would disappear for days at a time and then reappear somewhere out of thin air.
After a week had passed Eldest had asked Hitman about where the resident mayhem makers could be. Hitman had no clue. Feral wasn’t exactly the talkative type so there was no way for him to tell them when he would be back.
After two weeks they started to worry. Feral had never been gone for this long before. Maybe they had all just been busy. Missed each other because of how wonky time seemed to move in this place. Maybe Feral just had some things going on and he couldn’t visit?
No, that didn’t seem right. Eldest had known Feral a lot longer than Hitman, This wasn’t normal. Something was wrong and he had no way to contact his little buddy.
Before Feral disappeared if you found Hitman, Feral usually wasn’t very far away. The scruffy troll had taken a liking to the awkward troll almost instantly. That fact alone back made a man full of the other JDs of the house jealous. For different reasons depending on who you asked.
Ever since the early days when Crystal and Grey had figured out just how food-motivated the feral troll was it became a sort of right of passage. Piss off Grey and by default, you’d have to deal with Feral. If a chip bag was ever tossed in your direction then good luck because you’d need it.
So when three weeks rolled around Eldest and Hitman had gone to find Grey and figure out what was going on. Since neither of them knew where their friend had disappeared or why, maybe Grey did. Eldest knew how much the troll cared for Grey after the whole Snake incident. God, he really hoped nothing bad hadn’t happened to Feral.
Weeks turned into one month and then two. After that, they had stopped keeping track. Every day they counted just made things worse. Left more questions. More worry for their friend. 
Until months later.
They had all been in the kitchen eating lunch when they heard the distinct rattle of the door in the living room. It always did that before someone entered. Eldest had gone to peek around the corner to see who it was. He figured it was probably a World Tour considering there was no name present at the top of the door. It was something they released that happened to the most frequent visitors of the house. That and World Tour had said he was going to drop by today.
What Eldest hadn’t been expecting when the door opened was to see a completely unfamiliar troll step through. It was unexpected, to say the least. A new John Dory hadn’t shown up in months so they had all just figured that was everyone.
He was so shocked he just stared at the newcomer.
Eldest’s frozen look had quickly gained the attention of the other two and they had moved to also glance around into the living room.
“What the fuck?” Grey said, also being surprised by the newcomer.
This quickly gained the troll's attention. Their ears quickly perked up, eyes shooting towards the small group. At that, their eyes widened as a large grin broke out across their face. 
In a matter of seconds, the troll had already bolted across the living room and grabbed Eldest, spinning him aggressively around. Arm tightly crushing and head pressed into the side of Eldest. This troll was definitely something. They’d picked Eldest up so fast and effortlessly that It had Grey reeling back further into the kitchen.
As soon as the stranger had noticed Grey he had already dropped Eldest. The troll wobbled from dizziness from the constant spinning as the stranger set his sights on his next target. 
Grey.
Grey had curled his hand into a fist ready to punch the troll but before he could swing his arms were already locked by his sides. Grey was about ready to bite this guy if it came down to it but he suddenly froze at the sound and feel of a deep rumble.
It felt familiar..?
Grey was quickly released, unlike Eldest who had been held for a good minute. Eldest now leaning against the edge of the counter waiting for the world to stop spinning so he could ask who they were.
As soon as Grey realised he quickly backed away from the taller troll who looked curiously down at him. The was when 
The trolls then launched themselves directly at Hitman. The two tumbled to the floor in a heap of fluff and fur. Hitman let out a loud grunt a bit dazed at the abrupt impact. When his eyes cracked back open he was face to face with the pale blue troll. 
He’d never seen someone smile so wide
“Bbrrrrrr-ooouu-theeerrrrrrrr.” The troll growled out as he hugged Hitman tightly, cheek pressed firmly into Hitman’s.
‘Wait… brother?’
At that, Hitman had jolted back his hands flying forward grabbing both sides of the mystery troll's face and really looked at him.
Eyebrow slit. Chip out of his ear. Black earrings. Two scars over the right cheek. One big snaggletooth.
‘Holy shit’
“FERAL!”
The troll grinned widely at that as Hitman latched onto him like if he let go Feral would disappear again.
“Feral?” “Feral!”
Grey and Eldest both called one of confusion and the other of relief.
At that exclamation, Eldest stumbled towards the two and crashed onto the floor next to Feral. Hitman was still clinging tightly to Feral as he wiggled an arm free and reached out towards Eldest. 
Eldest’s eyes watered and with a loud sob, he latched on the other side of Feral.
“Feral where! What! AUGH-” Eldest could barely get a word out through his choked sobs. Hitman was not faring much better as he began to shake and also started to cry.
Grey simply watched the three
A devious smirk streaked across Feral’s face.
“NO. DON'T even think about it!”
It was too late Feral had already unwrapped his long tail from his waist and latched it onto Grey's arm. Dragged the unwilling troll straight into the cuddle pile.
Grey grumbled a few protests but eventually settled down. Eldest, reaching out an arm and crushing Grey into them all.
Feral had missed this. Missed them all so much but some many things had happened in such a short period of time he just didn't have the chance to visit.
But he was here now and that's all that mattered.
His low rumble soon fizzed out into a pur, the vibrations from Feral rippling out and through the other three.
This was perfect.
That was when they all heard a voice.
“Did I miss something?”
World tour stood in the entryway of the living room with a puzzled look on his face.
“Fuck.” Grey was never going to hear the end of this.
Grey! JD belongs to @ijjstlostthegame
Eldest! JD belongs to @matmiraculous
Hitman! JD belongs to @lemony-and-zesty
World Tour! JD belongs to @year2000electronics
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the-possum-writes · 6 months
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Hi! Could you do a Finn x Fem reader lemon? Maybe it could be with and inexperienced reader while finn already has some knowledge about it and shows her how to do it. Thank you! <3
[Finn teaching an Inexperienced Reader]
❥Character: Finn Mertens ❥Tags: NS/FW hc's, handj0bs, established relationship, fem!reader ❥Synopsis: Finn takes things slow with you but you convince him to teach you how he likes to be touched. ❥A/N: I was going through a writing block so there's no full smut but rather some handsy stuff.
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❥Whether you've been dating for years or just a few weeks, if you tell Finn you want to take things slowly, he'll respect your wishes.
❥Only kissing and hugging, nothing more.
❥But that doesn't take away how startling it is when a kissing session becomes too intense, and just as you feel the warmth cling to your heart and stomach in a tightening squeeze, Finn pulls away from you and acts as if nothing happened, resuming whatever video game you were playing or changing the subject.
❥You know where babies come from and all that basic biology class, but you have yet to personally experience it and are kind of wary of unplanned pregnancies, that's why you told Finn you wanted to take things slow.
❥And he was okay with that, but it didn't stop the growing doubt since you know he's had past encounters with other girls before. "Is he getting frustrated at me cause I'm making him wait?" you'd start asking yourself.
❥Finn is a passionate and outgoing guy who pours his heart into everything he does, whether it's fighting monsters, reading comic books, or simply indulging in his favorite meals. And, given how much he adores you, you're filled with illogical guilt at the thought of preventing Finn from physically expressing his feelings for you.
❥You've already asked him directly. "Finn, are you mad that we haven't done couple things?"
"But we always do couple things."
"No I mean like, tier 15 stuff and all that."
"Oh... Not really.."
❥He's a straightforward and laid-back guy, so it didn't occur to you until lately when, on a day when you didn't feel confident, you pushed yourself to kiss him by placing your hand on his thigh and running it upward. Finn stopped you by holding your hand so he could ask you, "Are you sure you want to do this now?" You try to kiss his neck while saying, "I know you've been dying to-," but Finn is insistent. If there's anything he's learnt from his previous relationship, it's to avoid diving into pleasures on a whim. "It's not about what I want, I'm asking about you." His tone has changed a little bit, especially in light of your earlier question.
❥As self-doubt circles in your thoughts and seeps beyond your eyes, you choose to keep quiet, but Finn squooze-hugs you to his chest. "We don't need to rush anything; I'm pretty happy with you so far. We can do those things when you don't have any more uncertainties in your lovely head."
❥"But what if I do wanna do those things but I want to take it a small step at a time? Like when you taught me how to swim." you bring up. Finn adjusts his hold on you, the two of you were in the middle of a movie night and are currently on the couch. Jake is already asleep and BMO is probably lurking around the treefort but he promised to not peep at you two during visiting hours.
❥"Alright, there's something I can teach ya but we have to keep our voices down. You don't need to take off anything so don't worry, we'll just be using your hands."
❥Finn leans back on the couch's headrest, allowing you to rest on his thighs as he tells you."How about I give you a lesson in Finn-biology?" he chuckles."I can't say no to my favorite subject." you respond. Considering the stories and experiences you've heard from your close friends, you have only a rough idea of what he's considering, but you're nonetheless anxious, intrigued, and interested about it.
❥Finn starts out by smooching you, easing a bit of your nerves as he gently grabs your hand and lowers it down his chest until it reaches his groin, he motions for you to rub him through his shorts, feeling something grow underneath.
❥It's warm, really warm.
❥Finn raises himself from the couch to lower his shorts with his underwear, and you remain silent while watching his half hard dick peeking out from the confines of his baby blue trousers. You temptingly touch his head with the tip of your fingers, unconsciously wrapping more and more of your around around him until he finches a bit, pulling away at the discouragement. "It's okay, it just needs something slick." he assures you. At the mention of it you're unconsciously rubbing your thighs together upon feeling something getting wet downstairs, but you don't bring it up.
❥The attention has Finn squirming in his spot but he continues with the lesson.
"Give me your hand." he asks. When you do he purposely spits on his dick and guides your hand to smear it all over him, amplifying the prominent musky smell coming from him.
"It's sensitive here." he explains in short breaths, hearing his panting picking up the more you run your fingers over the underside of his shaft right where it connects with his pink gland.
❥Once you've gotten the hang of it, Finn releases your hand and lets you try a few more things. What if I squeeze here? What if I touch this tiny hole with my finger? What if I gently squeeze his balls? Finn struggles to form meaningful sentences any longer and is only able to utter things like, "Just like that," "That feels good," and "Wait not like that, there you go... Oh Glob..."
❥It's a hypnotic and undeniably sexy experience, watching him lose himself in his own pleasure to the point where he forgot the reason for this little lesson until he came all over your palm and soiled his own shirt in the process.
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Homeward Bound
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Author’s Note: Hello, lovely readers! I’d like to introduce myself. My name is Amanda, and I’ve been a long-time fan and lurker of every iteration of the Cavill tag. As a southern(ish) small town native myself, I have quite the soft spot in my heart for our sweet military Captain. I absolutely adore all of the works and worlds we’ve created around a character that doesn’t even have a first name. It’s been a long time coming that I finally dust off the old chromebook and give it a crack as well. I hope you enjoy my first take on ole Sy.
The only warnings I have for you this time are for explicit language and implied mentions of smut, so please do not interact if you are under the age of eighteen. All mistakes are my own, gif credit goes to the owner. Otherwise, please don’t hesitate to reach out, share your thoughts, or just fangirl along with me. Thanks for stopping by!
“Shut the fuck up! Cowboy’s got an old lady?! Who’d wanna fuck that ogre?” 
Liquor flowed like the newly established running water in that small, nameless village they’d been exiled in for far too long. Two more weeks in this shithole and they’d be on the first redeye outta here. Sy could almost smell the fresh texan air, feel the warm breeze blowing in through the open window of his old pickup. Crickets chirped behind his closed eyelids, fireflies danced in the treeline behind the house. The steady creaking of that old porch swing made his heart hurt as he thought about her bare feet urging it to rock back and forth, back and forth. For a moment, he could taste the sweet tea in his favorite mason jar, fresh brewed and ice cold as it clung to his mustache in sticky, damp droplets. He licked his dry lips and shook his head, chuckling softly under his breath as he eavesdropped on the conversation as it unfolded in the next room.
“Have you lost your mind, Private? Do you want him to put your ass on latrine duty for the rest of our stay? He catches wind of you talkin’ shit about his woman, and they’ll be shipping us all back in pine boxes.” Cole scoffed and shook his head. They’d spent nearly a year out here busting their asses to get the water flowing again and he wouldn’t let the actions of one drunk jackass get him in trouble with the boss. He took a heavy pull from the amber bottle in his hands and sighed. “For the record…even a blind squirrel finds a nut every now and then.” His comment sent the rest of the platoon howling with laughter. Sy simply smirked. He got that one from me. 
Cracking open the old metal tin with his name spray painted across the top, Syverson took out the stack of letters he’d accumulated over the last several months he’d spent away from home. “One last time, darlin’” he promised her. “Then I’m all yers. Ye’ll be sick’a me. Beg me ta’ get outta yer hair.”  
In truth, the thought of returning to civilian life scared him a bit. He enlisted the moment he could on the day he turned eighteen. Signed his life away, threw himself to the wolves, and got married to the job. Two decades later, he wasn’t sure he’d be any good at keeping a normal schedule. Johnny at the sawmill promised he’d hold a place for him when he got back, but spitting sawdust day in and day out somehow seemed worse than dodging bullets. His last tour was shorter than this one was. He’d barely been home long enough to shit, shower, and shave before word came down the line that he’d be shipping out again. The look on her face when he sat her down for dinner that night to break the news…he’ll never forget it.
Sy brushed a thumb over the stack of neatly folded letters in his hand. He’d read and reread them a million times while he waited for a new one to come in. Phone calls weren’t guaranteed out here. Even the satellite phone struggled to hold a connection. Conversations over noisy interference were brief. “How ya doin’, baby? How’s yer mom an’ them?” “Has the screen door been given’ ya fits again? It’s first on my list” “Alright, darlin’, I best be goin’. Keep sayin’ yer prayers fer us. Good girl. I love ya, sugar.” Nervous energy churned in his gut as he thought about laying eyes on her again. He wondered how long her hair had gotten. She knew he liked it long. Long enough to wrap around his fist and pull her back into him as he… Fuck. He couldn’t think about that right now. Two more weeks. Two more weeks and he’d be home. Home for good.
Life bustled around him as heavy, dusty boots thudded dully across the floor of the Houston airport. Men in suits talked into cell phones and toted briefcases as they brushed past him to get their luggage. Kids headed off to their fall semesters embraced their parents one last time before heading to the gate. Sy moved with a smooth, calculated accuracy to dodge the crowd as his eyes scanned faces for a familiar one. His heart thudded hard in his chest, the rush of his pulse flooding his ears over the sound of muffled last calls over the loudspeaker above.
Syverson wasn’t one to worry too much, but when he couldn’t find her right away, a voice in his head scolded him. “Ya must’a told her the wrong day, ya dumb motherfucker. Now what’re ya gonna do? Ain’t got no cash ta pay for a cab. Hitchhike? Flash a tit for a ride back ta’ town?” But then, he heard it. Clear as day, loud enough to rid the thoughts from his mind and send goosebumps skittering up and down his tanned forearms.
“Clayton.” 
Sy stopped suddenly, nearly bumped into the couple who walked behind him, and turned on his heels. He mumbled a half-assed apology to the disgruntled folks he plowed into as he brushed by them. The man was on a mission. Ditching the old green duffel bag at his feet, he threw open his arms as she met him half way and threw herself against his chest. 
He was an impenetrable wall, the force nearly knocking the wind from her lungs as she crashed into him. Tears brimmed in her eyes, wide and wild, the color of sea glass, gleaming in the fluorescent lights above as she searched his face. The lines at the corner of his eyes were deeper, a new scar graced his left temple and was already a soft shade of pink as it faded. A soft, satisfied smile spread across her freckled cheeks as she smoothed a hand over the center of his chest, letting it fall to rest over his heart. The steady thump of each beat against her palm gave her a sense of peace. He was whole; he was home.
“You’re late,” she chuckled, fisting his clean, pressed t-shirt and tugging him down for a quick kiss. Sy grasped her tightly, a rough hand coming up to hold the back of her head to keep her still. His eyes were alight with a silent warning as he held her close. Nuh uh, lil girl. Yer not goin’ anywhere.
“Nah, baby,” he breathed out, a playful smirk tugging at his lips as he brought them down to meet hers once more. “I’m right on time.”
“What’s this I hear about us getting a dog?” Sy had his arm slung over her shoulder as they walked out of the sliding double doors. He toted the duffel higher, up over his other shoulder as they paused at the curb and let traffic pass by. 
“She’s in quarantine right now. Once she’s cleared, we can pick ‘er up in a couple of weeks. Ye’ll love her, scout’s honor.”
Her laugh was music to his ears, as she shook her head and rolled her eyes at him. “Of course. You just can’t quit picking up strays, can you, big guy?” They crossed the path and headed out to the parking lot to find the beat up old Chevy that awaited them. The thought of her having to scoot the bench seat all the way up to peer over the steering wheel made him grin. 
“Hey, I picked you up. Look at us now.” That earned him a swat across the chest as she broke away to unlock the driver’s side door. Boy, was she a sight for sore eyes. This. The whitty back and forth. This is what he missed the most.
“Oh, shut up, asshole. You were drunk. I had to drive us back to your place, remember?” Sy stopped her before she could get the door open. He dumped his bag into the bed of the truck and backed her up against the side of it, reaching out to brush her hair over her shoulder. 
“Let’s make a pitstop on the way home, alright? It’ll be quick.” 
Her face burned bright red, and she giggled nervously as her eyes darted around them, worried that they might catch the attention of some nosy onlookers if she’d heard him right. “Clay…we haven’t even made it out of the parking lot yet. Let’s just go home and–” He let out an amused snort as he shook his head. Devil woman.
“Nah, baby…not like that.” He slipped his hand into the back pocket of her jeans to draw her in close as he met her gaze. His voice was soft and sure. His mama was right. She’d been waiting on him long enough. 
“I was thinkin’ somethin’ a little more…clerical. We’ve got some business ta’ attend to. At the courthouse.” Sy squeezed a handful of her backside, just enough to earn a little yip of surprise from her parted lips. “Gotta change yer last name.”
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greenerteacups · 2 months
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Hi! Just wanted to say the latest chapter is lovely & amazing & sweet & had me smiling the whole time! I absolutely love your characterisation of everyone, especially Draco, so it was so so lovely to return to this world & to his thoughts!! with his best friend and crush at malfoy manor no less! All the yearning is already off to a great start hehe I am so excited for the rest of book 5!
Wanted to ask you how has it been for you to write this new book and volume? Has your writing process changed since when you’d first begun taking on a long form project like this?
& also are there any moments or surprises in this book that you’re especially excited about?
sending so much love & gratitude for you and your incredible works 💓
Thank you so much! This is really encouraging, I so appreciate it.
Inasmuch as I can use this metaphor without having kids myself, I sort of see each of the books as a different child. The first one flew out in basically a few weeks of very intensive writing, and it was a total dream — plot, pacing, symbolism, major beats, all fell into place basically without effort. The character stuff was the hardest, as I've written about before, but even then, the glorious part of writing beginnings is it's the most energy you'll ever have for a project, so the lows were pretty soft lows. Book 2, in contrast, I had to drag kicking and screaming by its ankle from under the bottommost mattress of my brain. It's one of my least favorite books (tone problem; COS has killer plot/setting/ingredients for a YA novel, but it's stuck in the doldrums of Harry Potter's well-documented Early-Installment Weirdness, before Cedric Diggory slams the gas and upshifts the whole series into its correct age bracket). More specifically, once I'd gone through and picked out everything in the book that happened because of Lucius, I didn't have a plot — hey alexa how do you rewrite Chamber of Secrets when We Got No Fucking Chamber Of Secrets — and oh by the way, even if you want to do a moody tone/political setup book, remember that your protagonists are still twelve, so if you go too dark or too intense, you'll risk torpedoing your readers' suspension of disbelief. Good luck, Charlie.
Book 3 felt the most like its own novel, if that makes sense? It's the last truly feel-good book of the series; it's a great stand-alone mystery novel with relatively low stakes. Plus you get a bunch of the big series icons: patronuses, dementors, werewolves, Hogsmeade, the Marauders' Map, and time turners arithmancy. It just felt like a good old-fashioned motherfucking romp of a mystery/adventure story, before any of the complex character work and major stakes of the late books come in.
Book 4 was the most fun I've had writing anything maybe ever. I don't even know what it was. Maybe the tournament arc, honestly? Love me a tournament arc. But in any case, I opened every new chapter feeling a tingle of excitement for what I was gonna get to do. Oh, and the romance started, finally, Jesus God (if it feels like a slow burn reading, just imagine what it felt like writing it, when everything takes ten times as long, and you have to figure out how to word the fucker.)
Book 5, in contrast, has felt much less like that tingle of "here we go!" and more like "oh, man, this is gonna be cool." Because this is the arc of the story that composed the original idea for Lionheart, literally years ago, and to be honest, I didn't think I'd get this far! If you'd asked me "do you know that it's going to take you 500,000 words of backstory before you can start writing that concept you're thinking about, and you're going to do it anyway?" I would have said: "absolutely not, strange mind-reader!" But like... I'm here! Finally! And it's... real now? Like, this isn't just a bunch of clips of scenes in my head anymore! That's rad!
That being said, it's definitely been slower than Book 4, because I kept switching back to my outline document to make sure that certain things were set up properly, and that I hadn't lost any of the plot threads or forgotten a minor beat that was vitally important for the story three chapters later. And I had a minor crisis about three months ago when I ripped out about 8 chapters in the first third of the book — basically everything from September to December — because I'd done a readthrough to check pacing (big mistake! never edit while drafting, that's satan talking) and realized I had a missing storyline. Like, there was a whole layer of the story that was just. Missing. Not there. And the existing text really couldn't fit another thread, so instead of taking weeks to pore through and try to sift out what I could save, I needed to factory reset and start over. And I didn't want to! I vividly remember sitting there with my head in my hands, trying not to weep, because I'd decimated 90,000 words of work in a single edit. But it had to be done. Because the story wasn't going to work. And now (hopefully) it will.
And of course, there's still that sense of excitement and exhilaration from before. Always. But whereas Book 4 felt like a delicious chocolate pudding, Book 5 is a medium-rare steak.
(Book 6, so far, is four shots of espresso and a whiskey chaser. FWIW.)
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