#the second one was kind of on purpose but i swear i had no involvement in boone and lily

[irradiatedrosegarden]

this is a joke but pls tell me

#the second one was kind of on purpose but i swear i had no involvement in boone and lily #that was during daisy's birthday party too #hence the hat #lmao #fallout #fallout new vegas #fallout 3 #craig boone #boone #boone fnv #lily #lily bown #fnv lily #fnv #fo3 #fallout poll #clover #clover fo3 #lone wanderer #memes #fallout meme

[sp0o0kylights]

Whole thing on A03

It didn't matter how much Steve explained. Not one member of the Party was going to get it. 

Tommy and Carol would, but then, they were no longer on speaking terms. A fact that hurt even if it was for the best--particularly in times like these, because they got it. 

They understood how he had been ensnared with the very same wealth people mocked him for. What it meant when his parents demanded Steve drop everything and go on vacation, his own plans be damned. 

They knew, because their families had done much the same, and so the lives they led also were tethered to leashes made of their parents' design. 

Dustin, whose mother bent over backwards to try and better her kid’s life, didn’t even have a frame of reference for this kind of thing, let alone sympathy. 

"Do they not understand you have a job?" Dustin asked incredulously, and Steve didn't have the emotional bandwidth to explain that his parents didn't consider working at Family Video to be a real job. 

As far as they were concerned, Steve could quit if he had to, and then go find another job when they were done using him to play the nice, All-American family. 

Likely for business purposes.

"They aren't the type to care." Steve said instead. 

It was easier than getting into it.

(Easier than explaining the BMW wasn't in his name, but his parents. 

How his money went into a bank account they had access to. 

That practically everything he owned was actually owned by Richard and Stella Harrington, and both were quick to remind him of that fact the second they felt Steve was acting out of line. 

And boy, had he been acting out of line. 

 Getting into fights. 

Turning their punishment of working a job they picked specifically for the humiliating outfit, into the far worse public embarrassment of being involved in a mall fire--an embarrassment because Steve had "lost" the keys to the BMW, had "put himself in danger" playing hero instead of letting the perfectly capable firefighters do it, then “paraded around” with bruises all over his face, racking up medical bills. 

Truly a sin for someone who hadn’t made it into college.) 

So no, this vacation they demanded Steve drop everything for  was not anything close to a reward, or even something they were doing to spend time together. There was a reason they needed Steve, and as far as they were concerned, Steve was at their beck and call until he shaped up and got his life back on track. 

His own plans be damned. 

"That's not fair though!" Dustin burst out and Steve sighed in relief, because here at least, he knew what to do to distract his younger friend.

 “We planned our trip months ago!” Dustin continued, looking two seconds away from giving in and stomping his foot. 

The kid might have been smarter than Steve--smarter than most people really--by a hell of a lot, but he was still fourteen. 

Smarts, Steve knew, didn't exactly equate to emotional intelligence, and it definitely didn't stop rampaging hormones.

Ice cream on the other hand, was a great aid in both areas. 

"You better be making this up to us." Dustin threatened thirty minutes later, spoon wedged deep into a sundae. “We can’t do, like, half the stuff we were going to do without you!” 

“I'm sure you guys didn’t need me to play ghost runners or whatever.” Steve said, but was quick to back down when Dustin nearly threw his spoon at him. 

Rather than antagonizing him more, Steve dutifully raised his hand to put over his heart. "I swear on your mom that I’ll make it up to you.”  

Dustin rolled his eyes, but otherwise, finally, let the whole thing go. 

Stupidly, Steve thought this meant the worst was over.

He was wrong. 

xXx 

Mike hadn’t cared. 

El and Will hadn’t really either, though both expressed some sadness that Steve wouldn’t be participating in the camping trip that the Party as a whole had been looking forward to for the past few months. 

Erica had simply snapped at him, making him promise much the same as Dustin had that he would be making it up to her sometime in the future. Likewise, she had been bought off by ice cream (even if she insisted it didn’t count because Steve owed her ice cream anyways.) 

Max was the surprising emotional standout. 

"You can't tell them no?" She demanded, arms crossed over her chest. 

Lucas was hovering awkwardly at her shoulder, shooting "what can you do?" vibes as hard as he could at Steve as his (currently on-again) girlfriend outright dressed the elder boy down; her shoulders creeping up higher and higher until she seemed to realize she was visually giving away her upset and forcibly relaxed them. 

Unlike Dustin and Erica, her tirade was very out of character and Steve was growing more concerned by the second that something was wrong the more she spat at him. 

“I mean for fucks sake, didn’t you tell them you had plans!?” She finished, eyes narrowed in rage. 

Which was rich coming from someone whose stepdad had Billy Hargrove running all over town before he’d run off after the guy’s death, but then, Steve knew better than to bring all that up.

(The image of Max, unresponsive in the hospital with casts on almost every limb, was still too fresh. 

Even now he didn’t like to push her, even if the Party as a whole did their best to take notice when one of them was isolating themselves again. 

Max, though she was down to one crutch, was still inclined to use it as a weapon and very much enjoyed practicing her swings on people’s ankles.) 

“I did indeed. They don’t care and they’re not giving me a choice, but for what it’s worth I am sorry.” Steve tried to keep his voice even and out of angry-shrieking range, and vaguely prayed it was working. “I swear, I will make it up to you guys, even if we have to go on a second camping trip.” 

This was clearly not the correct thing to say.

Though judging by the murderous rage being aimed his way, Steve was pretty sure nothing short of “You know what you’re right, let me go tell my parents to fuck off!” would make Max happy. 

“So you’re seriously just going to drop everything, all our plans, your job, us,” She took a very threatening step forward and despite her being a full foot shorter than him, Steve had to fight not to take a responding step back. “So you can go play rich boy in the Bahamas?” 

“We’re not going to the Bahamas--” Steve tried, but was interrupted with a loud “ugh!” of disapproval. 

“Whatever makes you happy, Steven.” Max spat, and then turned on her heel, storming off towards the rest of the Party (who had taken one look at Max’s face and fled into the arcade so she and Steve could “talk.”) “I’m sorry us peasants weren’t good enough to hang around!”  

“Sorry man.” Lucas apologized quietly, on his way to run after Max. 

Steve just scrubbed a hand through his hair and sighed. 

xXx 

“The kids are mad at you.” Nancy announced, appearing across the Family Video counter like a phantom. 

Steve swore, nearly dropping his stack of VHS’s, while Robin (who had clearly seen Nancy approach) cackled at his fumble. 

“Yeah, I did get that memo.” Steve said, after he stabilized his stack, safely moving them from his arms to the counter. 

Nancy peered around them, her face giving away nothing. “It is kind of shitty to cancel at the last minute like that. We were relying on you to drive.”

An old fury shook itself awake in Steve’s chest, taking an interest in the conversation the second Steve realized what Nancy was here to do. 

He took a deep, shuddering breath, and pressed it down, back into the box he’d slammed it in all those years ago. 

“I’d leave the keys to Robin here, but unfortunately, someone failed their drivers test.” Steve said instead, jamming his finger over his shoulder and blatantly attempting to pass the buck. 

Robin, who absolutely knew that was what he was doing, faked a gasp and kicked at his ankles. 

“That crotchety asshole failed me on purpose!” She protested, spinning to face Nancy. “He made like, three misogynistic comments before we even got in the car!” 

“Pointing out that he knew the car wasn’t yours wasn’t misogynistic, he was just surprised to see me letting you use the Beemer.” Steve shot back, rolling his eyes. “I don’t exactly let a lot of people drive it.” 

Unspoken was that Steve’s BMW was one of the town’s more unique cars, and thus easily identifiable by the locals at large. 

“How is that better!?” Robin returned, but Nancy cleared her throat before they could successfully get the Steve-and-Robin show on the road. 

“The point is that we--but really, the kids, were counting on you.” Nancy said, dipping into her patented “I’m upset with you” tone. 

A year ago it would have cut Steve to the bone, even if he didn’t show it. 

Now he just stared tiredly at her back. 

“I’m sorry, Nance, but it is what it is.” He said simply, hoping the apology (even if he knew it wasn’t so much a real apology as it was something he said to keep the rage from breaking out and wrecking havoc via his mouth) would soften his ex. “I don’t know what else to tell you.”

Given the abrupt narrowing of her eyes, it very much did not help his case. 

“For someone who was so vocal about trying to change I have to say this is pretty disappointing.” Nancy said simply, but with just enough of a tone that Steve had to close his eyes for a second. 

Feel the way that old anger, the one that had powered King Steve, hit the bars of its cage.

Robin stilled immediately next to him, her head ping-ponging between Steve and Nancy both as she too, clocked that Nancy was pissed, and here to chew Steve out about it. 

“Um.” She said, voice going high in discomfort. 

Steve grit his teeth. “I don’t exactly get a say in these things, Nancy. You know that.” 

He had to work to keep his voice even, fighting against the ice that wanted to sharpen his own tone. 

It was just---Nancy did know. 

Steve had told her all those years ago, in the safety of her arms, about his parents' expectations. Their predetermined path, the way they dictated large swathes of his life. 

How they’d allowed him to pick which sports he played, but required that he play a sport no matter the time of year. 

That the pool they had installed wasn’t for him, he just got to use it as much as he did in part because he’d joined the swim team, and the kind of mental mind games he and his parents played about things like that. 

Apparently either Nancy had forgotten, or simply hadn’t taken it in to begin with because she wasn’t backing down. 

(Not that Steve had ever seen Nancy Wheeler back down.) 

“I know you have trouble juggling your parents' plans with your own.” Nancy said, and her tone was absolutely icy now. “I certainly remember waiting for a date that never happened.” 

Steve sucked in a breath through his teeth, knowing immediately what Nancy was referring to. 

“I told you they came home unexpectedly.” He said, arms now crossed against his chest, nails digging into his arms as a way to help himself stay grounded. “They wouldn’t let me use the phone until the next day and I apologized.”

“And I recall having a lovely conversation with your mother where she said otherwise.” Nancy said, her words punctuated by another high pitched “Uhhhh.” from Robin. 

“Funny how you believe my mom over me.” Steve said and whoops, yup, he definitely sounded mad now. 

So much for all the effort he’d put in to staying calm. 

“Because I look at actions, Steve. Patterns. The same ones you kept repeating.” Nancy was clearly about to escalate, and Robin, bless her, had had enough. 

“He-eeey.” She said, wedging herself in between Steve and the counter Nancy was starting to lean over. “I totally get it, you’re both upset, but this maybe isn’t the venue to fight about it? There are customers in the store and--sorry Nancy--but I do kinda need Steve for work, so…” 

She trailed off, glancing nervously between the two of them. 

Nancy took a breath, blasting it out of her mouth like an academically inclined dragon. “You’re right. I’m sorry Robin.”

She then turned on her heel, making her way to the doors. She paused before them, and Steve prepared himself because he knew whatever she was going to say next, it was going to hurt. 

“I wouldn’t care if it was just me, Steve, but the kids don’t deserve you pulling this shit. Not after all they’ve been through.” With that, Nancy pushed through the door, head held high as she stormed to her car. 

As was typical for Nancy’s aim, she scored a direct hit. 

Steve, somehow, resisted throwing things. 

“Can you believe her!?” He said, the second the doors were closed and Nancy safely out of eyeshot. “Coming in here like that!?” 

He ran his hand through his hair, once, twice. 

A third time for good measure. 

“Yeah, that was seriously public for her.” Robin agreed, sliding up next to him. “Like really public.” 

Steve shrugged, because well. Not really. 

Not anymore. 

But Robin didn’t know that, just like Robin wasn’t entirely familiar with the depths Steve’s parents went to save face. They hadn’t exactly had time to really dig into it all, given how fast the Vecna situation had hit after Starcourt and the sheer PTSD both incidents had caused. 

Most nights they spent together was spent trying to avoid reliving nightmares, not discussing ones they were currently still living in. 

A fact that Steve was more than happy to bring her up to speed on, but to do so involved a lot of backstory, and backstory involved Nancy, and God, he was fucking pissed at Nancy. 

Soon it was an hour into his rant and he hadn’t actually gotten around to the sheer level of shit his parents would pull, too busy with Nancy and old echoes of ‘bullshit.’ 

 He only stopped when Robin put a hand on his shoulder, shaking him ever so slightly. 

“Dingus. You know I love you, and I know you’ve changed, but you do gotta admit, canceling at the last minute is kinda shitty and I get why they’re upset.” 

It was like the carpet had been pulled right out from under Steve, yanked so quickly he’d have to pinwheel to keep his feet. 

“What?” He said, eyes round in sheer surprise. 

“I just mean like, I get your parents are dicks but,” Robin’s face screwed up, looking like she’d sucked a lemon. It was her “I’m going to say something you don’t like face” and it hit Steve like a punch to the gut. 

“Our shift’s almost over and no offense, you’ve started to repeat yourself about Nance, and I get it! I do, memory shit is hard!” Robin’s hands moved as she talked, her bracelets jingling as if punctuating her point. 

“But I also think admitting you double booked yourself on accident and just taking responsibility for it would help smooth things over. Middle ground, you know?” Robin waggled her hands in a gesture that, for the first time in a long time, Steve didn’t understand. 

He found himself suddenly struggling to breathe. 

“Are you--are you saying you think I didn’t tell them I had a trip already planned?” 

Steve wasn’t sure how he managed to get it out. Wasn’t sure how he was doing anything, given the heat that was shooting through him, a hot mix of confusion and betrayal as Robin fidgeted to his left. 

“No! Okay well,” The lemon face got worse for a second. “I’m just saying you did kinda forget to pick me up that one time, and you do kinda blame your parents when stuff like that happens.” She bit a nail, peering at him out of the corner of her eyes.  

“I don’t--” Steve said, completely knocked adrift. “I…”

Robin didn’t believe him.

His Robin. 

Who wasn’t--wasn’t exactly siding with Nancy, but wasn’t saying she was wrong either, or that she understood that this shit was out of his control, and in fact, was kind of implying that Nancy was right more so than Steve was and---and--

There was a ringing in Steve’s ears he wasn’t sure actually existed. 

“I’m sure a lot of it is your brain injury. The doctors said your short term memory can take a while to fully come back and I totally get why you don’t wanna say that, I just, I think it would be better if--Steve?” Robin jumped back as Steve finally found his footing, swiping his jacket and punching out before she could catch how badly his hands were shaking. 

“I’m leaving.” Steve told her, his own words a million miles away, entirely uncaring if Keith fired him. 

Keith was likely going to fire him anyway, given Steve was about to ask for a week-long vacation not even four months after the whole Vecna ordeal. 

“Wait, Steve, hey--Dingus! I wasn’t done, I mean, I had more to say I, dammit Steve--!” Robin called after him frantically as Steve bolted for the door. 

Steve ignored her, aiming for the Beemer and swinging himself numbly into the driver's seat when he got it open. 

Put the car in park and avoided Robin’s face entirely as he backed it out, punching the gas far harder than he needed to. 

The Beemer roared in response, nose rising as it shot forward. 

Robin was his best friend. His fucking--platonic soulmate, as she kept calling him. The very idea that she agreed with Nancy in general was a blow but in this?

Against his parents? 

Nausea rolled angrily in Steve’s stomach, matching the sudden wetness that coated his eyes. 

Angry and needing an outlet, Steve stomped hard on the gas, taking the next corner far too sharp and making the beemer fishtail, tires squealing . 

He didn’t know where he was going.

He figured he’d find out when he got there. 

xXx 

Given what Steve knew about the universe at large, (nevermind Hawkins) it probably wasn’t the smartest thing to hang around the Quarry at night.

But then, summer was in full swing. Kids were home from college and itching to find a place to party without parental overhead. 

Deep to the left side of the water, around a few bends and tucked oh so neatly out of sight, was a place where one could do just that. 

Party.

This stretch had long been claimed by the college kids of Hawkins, and guarded zealously for it. 

With the sheer number of drunk people whooping and hollering around the bonfires below the ridge where everyone parked their cars, Steve figured he was safe enough. 

Even if he was up with said cars, sitting alone. 

Not like it mattered. If a demodog or demogorgan or demo-fucking-dragon decided to come along, Steve had half a mind to just let it have him. 

It felt easier than trying to fix the current mess his life was in. 

So he sat up here, blowing through the alcohol he’d purchased from the one gas station that never carded, drinking his problems away. 

(That also wasn’t the best course of action but with his parents home to spring the whole “vacation” ordeal on him, it wasn’t like Steve had a choice.) 

He hadn’t grabbed a lot--had been so damn upset and struggling to hide it that he’d picked up a four pack of wine coolers instead of the intended beer he’d wanted. It was all he had though, and so he chugged the last bottle with a wince and wished he was a hell of a lot drunker than he felt.

Then promptly caught sight of the person walking towards him, and wondered vaguely if he was drunker than he felt. 

Of all the people to come and offer him a can of beer, Steve would have never expected Tommy Hagan. 

He eyed it and his old friend both, before slowly reaching out and taking the can. 

“Heard you and your parents are doing CoHo this year.” Tommy said casually, leaning up against the front of the Beemer like it was old times. 

“Yup.” Steve replied, drawing the word out. 

“Angie Tideman’s parents are going, they’re bringing her ith .” Tommy said it casually, and had the good graces not to grin when Steve audibly groaned.

“Oh god.”

Tommy sucked on a lip, nodding absently. “Yeah.” 

Then; “It gets worse.” 

Steve, who now knew what this conversation was about, instantly began tearing into the beer can. “How can it get worse? You know what Angie’s like.”

Angie, whose full name was Angelina, lived a few towns over. Born to wealthy parents who doted on their beloved only child, Angie had more in common with your average shark than she did her fellow humans. 

A comparison that, frankly, was unkind to sharks.

She was without a doubt the most selfish person Steve had ever had the misfortune of encountering, and the mere idea of being trapped in a room with her made his skin crawl. 

Their parents were business buddies though, and god forbid he ever insult a business buddies kid, 

“She goes to Purdue, you know, with me and Carol.” Tommy said, instead of answering directly. “We cross paths a lot, party wise.” 

Steve stayed silent. 

Knew how Tommy talked, how his stories meandered. Especially the juicy ones. 

“She’s been talking a lot recently. Given you don’t look all that informed, I’m gonna assume the one person she hasn’t talked to is you.” 

Steve gripped the can of beer, a sudden, sick fear blooming in his gut. 

“Tommy.” He said mildly, not loud enough to really interrupt, but with enough force to let his former friend know to get to the point, now. 

“Got all super fancy right before we left for summer break. Hair done, whole new wardrobe, nails, you know.” Tommy waggled his fingers playfully, but dropped them when Steve just stared. “Went full whore on us. I swear she was making out with any guy who even looked at her--” 

“Tommy.” He repeated, this time a hell of a lot firmer. 

Done pushing, Tommy let go of the proverbial bombshell. “Apparently you’re planning on proposing to her this summer. She’s gonna return next year as an engaged woman, with you in tow, because apparently, you got into Purdue. Congrats by the way.” 

Tommy clapped him on the shoulder, right as Steve’s mouth went dry. 

For the second time that day, he found himself fighting the burning heat of embarrassment and fury as it rolled through him. 

“I’m proposing.” Steve said, as if saying it out loud would scare the very idea away. “To Angie.” 

“Yeah we kinda figured you didn’t know.” Tommy said with a snide little grin. To the average outsider it was mocking, but Steve knew better.

Tommy was uncomfortable, because Tommy had understood what Steve’s parents had done. 

“What I’d like to know is just how much Angie’s parents paid to get you into Purdue. That’s gotta be a minimum fifty thousand dollar donation at least.” Tommy removed his hand, to instead lean his shoulder against Steve’s. Like this was the old times, before they’d fought. “ I didn’t think they had that kind of money to throw around.”  

A past conversation with his father struck Steve, running through the front of his mind like a bad horror movie. 

“They sold the estate.” Steve said vacantly, the implications not quite hitting. “The one they’ve been trying to get rid of forever, over in Cape Cod.” 

“Oh shit.” Tommy said, blinking as he too, recalled what was likely his father telling him the very same news. 

“They sold the place on Cape Cod, and they used part of the funds to fucking buy me like a toy.” And yeah, saying it out loud, it definitely sounded bad. “I didn’t think Angie even liked me.”

“Does Angie like anyone?” Tommy asked, incredulously, but nudged Steve’s shoulder again when his joke didn’t net him the laugh he wanted.. “I mean, you had to know your old man had plans to straighten you out. He keeps getting mad at my dad, because the ass won't stop making jokes that I’m going to take over the company instead of you.” 

“And this is it. Attaching me to Angie.” Steve said vacantly. “Because they know if I get married…” 

He’d put his wife first. His family, first. 

The one he’d wanted, dreamed of, since he first realized he didn’t have one. 

He’d been playing checkers the entire time, too busy fighting fucking monsters and Russians to realize his parents had upgraded to chess. 

In a dizzying array of mental connect-the-dots, Steve replayed the last years worth of conversations. All the odd little things they’d said. All the dumb things Steve had just ignored. 

 They’d warned him. 

Had told him he better shape up, or they’d be forced to do something drastic. 

That his parents hadn’t wasted all this time, effort, money on him, for him to throw away his life like he was. 

“You better start acting right and figuring out how to get your life back on track, because you won’t like what happens if I have to fix it for you. You get a month Steven, and after that? Well. Just remember you forced my hand, Steven.” 

They knew. They knew him, and what made him tick.

“I think the real question is what Angie’s parents see in you.” Tommy teased, but then they both knew the answer to that puzzle. 

For all that Steve’s mom complained about her husband, the guy was a shrewd and calculating businessman. Those weekends, then weekdays, then more and more time away hadn’t just been so he could go screw his secretary. 

Richard Harrington had fast tracked his business to the point where it was now getting attention. The business journal, ‘Top 50 Companies to Watch’ kind. 

Even if Steve fucked up entirely, he was set to inherit a fortune and a business that would continue adding to it, for some time to come. 

Provided he did what his parents wanted.

Such as marrying Angie. 

Thing was, if his parents did what they always did, and held their wealth (his car, his home, his life and all the little things in it) against him like a gun to his head, if Angie got that ring around her finger? 

 Steve would bow to their whims. 

 Because they could fluster him into proposing so he didn’t embarrass Angie, and her parents and anyone else who’d undoubtedly be watching. They’d make a spectacle of it. 

Because once he did propose, they wouldn’t let him back out, burying him under guilt trips and veiled threats until he was marched down the aisle in a groomsman suite and told to stand. 

Because against all common sense, Steve wanted a family who loved him so desperately he’d chase it like a dog if he was presented with the opportunity and told to make it work. 

It didn’t matter that Angie was selfish. 

Steve would try anyway. 

His parents were maneuvering him as easily as they had back when he was a kid, using love as a tool to get him to do what they wanted and even seeing the nose hanging from the rafters, they knew just the right words to get him to place it around his neck. 

“Thought you’d wanna know.” Tommy finished, pushing himself off Steve’s car. “Before your parents sprung it on you.” 

“Sonofabitch.” Steve hissed angrily, a million thoughts racing through his head, the heat of being caught in a trap blasting down his spine. 

“Yeah.” Tommy added, rather unhelpfully. “But hey, given that you’re about to go on vacation to propose, why don’t we consider this,” here Tommy swept his hand, gesturing to the party below, “your proposal party?” 

It was a downright horrible idea.

But then, Steve didn’t exactly have a better one. 

Not  when the world itself seemed against him, grinding its heel into his back and laughing about it. 

He knew the drill. If he went down there, arm in arm with Tommy, then it wouldn’t matter that half those kids were from a few towns over, driven in by new college buddies.  

They’d see him as a reason to get wild, absolutely uncaring that they didn’t know who the hell he was. 

Steve needed that.

People who weren’t mad at him, buying into the easy lies his parents wove, or who didn't understand the games played against him. 

“Fuck it.” He announced, standing up from the hood of his car as Tommy’s grin morphed into something he used to see in the days of old, back when they were sneaking drinks from their parents' alcohol cabinets. “This way at least I get a party.”

Not like his parents were going to let him have an engagement party. Or a bachelor party, or likely let his ass back into Hawkins. 

No matter how long the engagement. 

Tommy cheered, raising his arms to the sky and Steve grinned wildly with him. 

He’d figure out how to get out of all this later--but for now, he wanted just a few damn hours where he didn’t have to think. 

Not about his parents, or Angie, or possible attempts to force him into marriage, like this was the yee olden days and Steve was a Victorian maiden who needed to be brought to heel. 

Likewise he didn’t want to think about the Party, or Russian torture, or how Nancy could be so damn smart in some things and downright stupid in others. 

He absolutely didn't want to think about Robin. 

“Hey boys and girls, look who I drug up!” Tommy yelled as they approached and soon, word had spread.

This was Steve’s proposal party, and he was here to get absolutely smashed (while encouraging everyone else to do the exact same, in his honor.) 

Which would be how Eddie found him a few hours later.

Still at the quarry, crossfaded off his ass, a forty in one hand and a lawn dart in the other. 

“Are you kidding me, Steve?” Eddie grit out, desperately trying to wrestle the lawn dart out of his hand. “You’re fucking partying with Tommy Hagan!?” 

Steve blinked at him a few times, finally catching on that Eddie was in fact, actually there. 

“When did you show up?” He asked, though given the wince on Eddie’s face and just how hard it had been to move his lips, Steve correctly assumed he’d slurred the shit out of the question. 

Somehow, Eddie understood him anyway. 

“Robin called me a while ago, gave me a list of places you might be. Almost skipped this one until I stepped out of my van to take a piss and heard the party.” Eddie explained, and somehow while doing so, he’d successfully gotten a hold of the dart. 

He was now working on removing the 40 ounce. 

Steve frowned, using his newly freed hand to grip it closer to his chest. 

“Harrington.” Eddie warned, and oh, wow, they were back to last names huh?

Well why not, it wasn't like his night could get worse. 

“This is mine, Munson.” Steve fired back, putting as much vitriol into Eddie’s last name as he could.

This did not detour the metalhead. 

“Come on man, give me the bottle.” Eddie said firmly. 

Steve shook his head stubbornly, enjoying the way his hair whipped at his face. “No.”

Another man stumbled over, a guy Steve absolutely did not know. He frowned, looking between Eddie and Steve. 

For two seconds, Steve thought they might have trouble, and given the way Eddie was tensing, he clearly thought so too. 

Instead, New Guy just kind of rocked on his heels. “Hey, shove off it, buddy. It’s this guy's bachelor party, let the man drink!” 

Eddie’s face did something complicated then, pulling the sort of expressive looks only he could manage.

It was both adorable and hilarious, and if Steve hadn’t just been reminded of the very reason he was drinking, he’d have told Eddie so. 

“Yeah!” He said instead, raising his hand in the air, toasting his bottle of forty against the other guy’s red solo cup. “It’s my proposalengagmentbachelor party!” 

Given the second, adorable-slash-hilarious look on Eddie’s face, Steve assumed those words hadn’t come out right either. 

“Okay.” Eddie said hands on his hips in a stance Steve was pretty sure Eddie had gotten from him. “Here’s what's going to happen. You’re going to put the bottle away. Then you’re going to give me your car keys, and then the two of us are going to my house to sleep whatever is happening here, off.” 

At least, that's what Steve thought he heard. It was a pretty un-Eddie like speech, and Steve maybe, might have been the one to say it, because he maybe, might have been mocking what Eddie had actually said.

Maybe.

It was hard to know, given that Steve’s thoughts were a thick soup on a bit of a time delay, and he was having a hard time figuring up from down, let alone what Eddie had been actually saying. 

Speaking of; 

 “When did I get into your car?” Steve asked, blinking as the van’s passenger seat appeared before him.

“Just now.” Eddie said, helping him in.

“Huh.” Said Steve, and then he maybe passed out a bit, because once again, he found himself awake and alert at a place that wasn’t where he’d just been. 

“Come on.” Eddie said gently, one of Steve’s arms over his shoulder as Steve leaned heavily into him, guiding the jock up the stairs and into the small house he and Wayne now called a home. 

The guy might have muttered a few things about bachelor parties along the way, but Steve was too focused on walking straight to really take notice. 

Part Two

#lol remember when I said I wasnt posting parts to stuff until they were finished #THAT SURE LASTED LONG #pre steddie #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #0o0 fanfics #This is very Steve focused #TW his horrible parents #VERY hurt #comforts later #with eddie! #I really wanted to explore Steves Parents #in proper Rich Asshole Controling fashion #TW forced marriage #or mentions of #I also wanted to explore a lot of how the kids #and Nancy and Robin (who are also STILL kids #would react because sure they came up against monsters and the government #but neither of those things want you to like them #theyll let you know theyll eat you #Steves parents #like many rich dicks #want to isolate #want you to think theyre amazing #and its often the inner circle who knows whats up but are also caught in their own chokechain #hence the title of this fic #whiiiich is chokechain #stranger things #tw drinking

[ncteez]

Oh no, he’s hot (k.m.g)

The first time you drove your very trashed best friend home was because you had a crush on him. All the times you drove him home after that were because…well, his dad is sexy.

or the one where you have tension with your crush’s dad at four in the morning and maybe secretly fuck while said crush is asleep on the couch. 

ao3 | m.list | minors dni! | kindly leave feedback and reblog, i will kiss your forehead so fucking fast if you do. 

WORDCOUNT― 8.9k

PAIRING― dilf!mingyu x afab reader 

CONTENT― there is no daddy kink nor is there sub/dom dynamics involved with this fic, bottom(ish) mingyu, top(ish) reader, desperate smutty stuff,  mingyu is in his 40s, reader is in her early 20s (in other words, age gaps be damned, you’re both adults.)

OTHER CHARACTERS― chan is his son and ur just gonna have to deal with that for the sake of having no unnamed characters 

WARNINGS― Mingyu has an internal war over wanting you because his son also wants you. Another thing,  this is entirely consenting, but mingyu does mention to stop and/or wait at one point while clearly acting against his own words. 

NOTE― So uh, this fic is kind of a push and pull between morality and fucking because you’re horny. There’s some backhanded stuff about Chan but ill make it up to him in a future fic, i swear. Anyway, behold, the unedited dilf mingyu fic.

smut tags under cut:: 

― part two here!

smut tags―his brain is between his legs in this fic, BIG DICK MINGYU, grinding(ish), masturbation, handjob, neck kissing/sucking, groping, pet names: babe & sweetheart, face riding, dirty talk, unprotected sex (just assume they’re protected somehow at this point), he’s technically the one doing the fucking but he’s very in tune with her pleasure, missionary, g-spot stimulation and deep penetration

~

The first time you met Kim Mingyu was an unfortunate event. One where his son was seeing three of you and four of his dad as you struggled to get him up the steps of the porch. It’s not that Chan purposely stayed out past curfew, and it’s definitely not that he forgot his gate code or his dorm keys, it’s just that he really needed a friend to get him to his dad’s house. It wasn’t out of the way, Chan promised you that, even as you drove a full ten minutes across the city line to get him to safety. At first, you didn’t mind and preferred to spend more time with him anyway, but then it was even more worth the drive. Especially after meeting his father and realizing that he’s, to put it bluntly, just as hot as Chan. If not, more. 

 The second, third, and fourth time you met Kim Mingyu was much the same on the outside. Internally though, each time you met him threw you further and further into a specific thought process. One that felt taboo. You’ve never felt anything towards the parent of a friend, better yet the parent of a crush. Until now, at least, especially with the way Mingyu looks at you when he thinks you don’t notice. 

  It’s not that you think Chan’s dad would consider you an option, the smallest possibility of that is definitely not the reason why you volunteer to take his rowdy ass home either. Before it was because you wanted to spend more time with the guy you possibly were trying to date. Now? You won’t admit the reasoning. If anything, it’s because the older man has a kind face and thanks you each time for bringing Chan home to him rather than leaving him on the lawn of some frat house. 

 The fact that all of this started because you had a crush on Chan was insane enough. Now look at you, going to frat parties with him, no longer to get closer per se, but so you can take him to his childhood home despite him not forgetting his dorm keys anymore. 

 It’s the latest you’ve ever brought him this time, nearing four in the morning as you drag his clumsy self up his front porch as he hums the tune to your favorite song at you.

 “I told you,” Chan slurs through his humming, stopping you from knocking on the door and leaning his weight on you even more. “I have my keys this time. Why are we at my dad’s house again?” 

             You shake your head at him, adjusting your body better to accommodate his dead weight on your right side. 

 “Curfew. Do you want to be written up for a noise complaint again?” You look at him, watching him tilt his head and remove himself from your side to stand in front of you in an immaculate show of how uncoordinated he can be. 

 “You take such good care of me,” He slurs again, smiling at you from under his messy fringe and struggling to adjust his eyes to meet yours properly. “Y’know, Soonyoung said you have a crush on me–”

             You cut him off, stepping forward and knocking against the door as loudly as you can to avoid the fact that you might’ve had a crush on him before, and perhaps you still do. It’s just– his dad, y’know? 

 “Why’re you ignoring me?” He smiles again, leaning lazily against the door frame as you knock.

             Honestly, on any other day, you’d probably be blushing. You’d be floored by Chan being so forward toward you, especially in his cute drunken state with his sparkling eyes and stupid messy hair. It’s no wonder you have–had– a crush on him. With a face like that, a voice like that, a body like that, a dad like that. 

 “I’d rather talk about this when you’re sober, Chan.” You deadpan, knocking again and wondering if it’s taking his dad a while to get out of bed because it’s too early in the morning to be handling a drunk son. 

             Chan looks at you for several seconds with his crooked and lazy smile, nodding to you and blinking out of sync. You do think he’s charming, even like this. It’s a shame, really, that you can hear the door unlocking because you probably would have grabbed his face and kissed him at that moment. Mingyu be damned. Even more of a shame that your variable crush on him fizzles out the second you see his father time and time again. 

             Mingyu stands there behind that thin layer of glass with his sweat pants sitting low on his hips, shirt nowhere to be seen, with a face of both disappointment in Chan and sleepy fondness towards you. On instinct, you remember the first time you saw him and every time after that. No matter the change of lighting, time of night, or the way he has his hair– he never looks to be old enough to be Chan’s father. To put it bluntly, Mingyu doesn’t appear to be any older than his mid-twenties. Still, any sane person would be chasing after his son, much like you were but, here you are, wanting nothing more than to chase after the forty-something-year-old father of a cute drunken idiot.  

             Chan watches you stare at his dad but isn’t quite sure if it means anything because his drunken brain is telling him that you’re just tired or something. Still, he leans from the frame and immediately clings to you, his state offering little to hide the feelings he’s grown towards you. It’s the first time you’ve ever felt his nose nuzzle against your neck, with his alcohol-scented breath blowing against the skin there. You struggle to not lean into him. 

             Mingyu opens the door upon seeing Chan acting like a fool in love, much like he would have done at his age in the same state of bliss with a pretty girl by his side. 

 “Chan is very drunk again,” You laugh apologetically, looking away from the Mingyu and feeling Chan’s hands grip your waist as he hugs you. You try not to think too hard about his hands gripping you too, mostly because he’s never actually been this forward or clingy towards you. Truly, if he had done this before meeting Mingyu, and without being absolutely trashed, you’d probably already have asked to be his girlfriend or gone down on him, at the very least. 

  “Should I lead him to the couch?”

             Mingyu nods, looking at you with a gentle smile, well aware of the fact that you bring Chan here for reasons other than giving his son a place to lay his head. He knows Chan keeps his keys on him now, and he’s known since the second time you dropped him off. Especially considering he scolds him every morning after a drunken party, and each time, Chan proves that his keys were with him. He also knows his son well enough to see when he takes a liking to a girl, the issue is that you make it very very obvious that you’re more interested in him rather than Chan. Which is flattering, incredibly cute, equally as dangerous, and such a fucking shame for his son. 

             Here’s the thing. Mingyu is a good person with a stable head on his shoulders. He’s a good father, a hard worker, and a gentle soul, but he gets horny  just like any other man. Unfortunately, when a woman who he finds attractive, even if he swears he isn’t interested, starts throwing signals his way– it’s hard to ignore them and even harder to control himself when he hasn’t so much as gone on a date with another woman in at least a year. Much like his son, maybe he’s taken the tiniest liking to you too. To make himself feel better though, he swears it’s because he’s proud of his son for finding such a pretty girl that puts up with him.

             After all, he would never sleep with a woman that his son is fond of. Even when you look at him the way you do, even when you bend over in front of him for a second too long, making it obvious that you like it when his eyes land on your ass. Mingyu’s got wisdom in terms of bedroom eyes, and he would be terribly mistaken if the way you look at him wasn’t exactly that. It started eating him up inside from the second time you stepped foot in his house, and shamefully– he’s maybe thought about you in ways that he shouldn’t. Not only does Chan seem to be around you a lot, but you’re the same age as his son. 

 Of course, he feels bad. He feels like a pervert and a creep when he finds himself warming up at the way you look at him. Then he thinks hard enough about it to wonder where things could lead if he were to be selfish for once. It’s hard to find you attractive, especially when you appear to make excuses to stare at him. When he’s in his head about it, usually for several hours after you’ve dropped Chan off, he thinks about how you’re both adults and you are not obligated to cater to Chan, nor are you obligated to cater to him. You are a whole person with your own interests, and if your interest happens to be him– and if he happens to take an interest in you too, wouldn’t that just be two consenting adults? The dilemma of Chan liking you is what fucks with his head. 

  Tonight, it’s even worse and it’s becoming more and more difficult to brush you off or avert his eyes. Again, he would not ever sleep with a woman that his son is interested in but, he happens to be a bit touch-starved and you happen to be flaunting yourself at him. So, he’s allowed to at least, like, think about it, right? 

 “Ah,” Mingyu scratches the back of his neck with one hand and takes a step to the side to let you in. His shirtless body warms up when your eyes continuously scan him. You appear more interested each time you come by, and he can’t help but think that this is already reaching dangerous territory. There’s a clear reason why you keep coming to his house, using his son as an excuse to play innocent. 

 “That should be comfortable enough,” he comments in a sleep-shrouded rasp, watching you plop his son down on the couch. He closes the front door and grabs a lap blanket from the back of the couch to throw over him to help get him situated. “More comfortable than the bed in his dorm, I'm sure.” 

 “Ah, his shoes.” You comment to yourself, pulling at Chan’s laces and slipping his shoes off of him before lifting back up and preparing to head to the door. The visit to look at Mingyu is always only five to ten minutes, but you enjoy the ogling session nonetheless. 

 “Hey,” Chan slurs out, reaching out and pulling at your arm. “It’s pretty late, just crash here with me…”

             You stumble a bit, losing your balance and landing against him, but you’re quick to pull yourself back up with a laugh. God, why does he have to be the one with a hot dad? Why couldn’t he have done all of this before? Why do you have to be single and ready to mingle with a man twice your age because of Chan?

             As you stand back to your feet, you look at him as his heavy eyes start to close despite the shenanigans he just pulled. He’s already falling asleep and surely he won’t remember this by morning, so you gently back away with a soft shake of your head before heading for the door and placing his shoes on the rack there.

 “He’s right.” Mingyu manages to say, stepping in front of the door and crossing his arms. He’s a bit unsure of why he’s offering this but ultimately plays it off. It’s not because he’s trying to play cupid and hook you up with his son either. Selfishly, it’s because he wouldn’t mind you staring at him for a bit longer. 

 “It’s already too late, and I’m aware that your campus is a bit of a drive…” He trails off, trying to not act exactly like Chan towards you.

             You pause, noting that you were about to immediately agree despite rejecting his son’s offer. Looking at Mingyu, with his broad shoulders and sharp jaw, you shake your head much like before, hoping that he offers again so you can pretend to not seem so excited. 

 “Maybe I shouldn’t, I still need to shower and I don’t have anything to change into–” You try to make excuses, but he shakes his head, putting his hands out in a defensive kind of way.

 “No, no. I insist. It’s not safe, I’m sure I’ve got something lying around that you can put on for the night, there are extra toothbrushes too.”

             Well, you’re not gonna fucking argue that.

 “Okay,” You offer a soft nod and a smile, stepping away from the door and looking to the floor. You feel elated right now. “Where’s the bathroom then?” 

             Mingyu, for some reason, is trembling as he suddenly feels entirely naked in front of you even with his thick sweatpants covering the bits. He smiles back at you, reaching out as if you should grab his hand. 

             In reality, it was just to be polite but you did grab his hand. He panics a little because your hands are so fucking soft and warm, and god it’s been way too long since he’s looked at a woman this way. Such a fucking shame that Chan likes you, he knows he can’t be thinking like this. 

             Mingyu reluctantly leads you down the hallway to the bathroom, softly and quietly pointing out the towels and extra tooth brushes before stepping out and immediately walking away. You didn’t get to inquire about said pajamas he was going to offer to you, and in all honesty, he definitely forgot the second he realized that he was thinking too hard right now.

             He stands against the closed door of his room until he hears the water in the bathroom start and the shower curtain closing. That’s when he realizes he forgot to get you those fucking pajamas and curses under his breath before rushing out of the room and towards the laundry room. He’s sure he has some of Chan’s clothes here that he’s always leaving behind. 

             Thankfully, he finds a pair of boxers and a ratty old t-shirt stretched out far past its original sizing. He’s sure this will do fine as he hastily grabs them and heads toward the bathroom again.

             He stands outside of the door frozen, unsure of if he should knock or just leave them at the door. His brain is running a mile a minute at how to navigate thinking intimate things about you behind that shower curtain. Naked. The fact that you’ll be putting on his son’s clothes, probably without panties because you appeared to have made a point that you needed to change out of tonight’s clothes– oh god. There it is. There’s the shameful arousal he’s been fighting since the second time you brought Chan home.

             The water turns off after several minutes of him standing there, and he can hear the shower curtain move as you step out and presumably dry off.

             The softest of knocks known to man can be heard on your side of the door and that’s when you, yourself, get pulled out of your thoughts of Mingyu stepping inside this bathroom and wrapping your legs around him. As you look around, you should probably ask about those pajamas, and surely that’s Mingyu on the other side of this door knocking like the most polite man in the universe. 

             It’s dangerous, really. For Mingyu to be feeling this desperate for the touch of an attractive woman, whoever it may be, and you on the other side of this door desperate to touch him. You wonder if he will reject your advances, or if he will at least pick up a hint or two. You wonder if you’re about to put his clothes on you and if you’ll be able to smell him on you when you intentionally go home in them tomorrow after you wake up. 

             You creak the door open, holding the towel loosely against you as you make eye contact with him. You’re confident enough to seduce a man, but seducing Mingyu is new ground for you. Will your usual antics work on an older man? Guess you’ll find out, because right now is a better time than any.

  He’s still shirtless, his sweatpants seem to be sitting lower on his hips now too. You can’t help it when you trail your eyes down, shamelessly taking in his image before meeting his eye again with a sly smile.

             That little smile kind of solidifies it for him. The look on your face is easily recognizable to him, considering he’s seen it time and time again back before he had an entire child with someone. So, he pushes the door open a bit more, smelling the soapy scent of what you used to wash with before immediately taking a step back as you take the clothes from him. It’s not that he wouldn’t step inside and make advances on you, but he’s really trying to control his urges right now. Simply because his son likes you. 

 “They’re Chan’s,” he comments shortly, his own eyes trailing down without intention and watching a water droplet fall from the dip of your shoulder to seep into the towel loosely hiding your chest. “That's all I could find.”

             You watch him stand there, despite having taken a step back from the doorway, he appears to be planted in place without hiding the way his eyes take you in more than they ever have. You’re purposely holding this towel against you in a revealing way for him. So, you’re feeling pretty good that it seems to be working, and he’s even picking up on your energy toward him. 

 “Oh,” you finally say, looking down at the clothes in your hands. “I thought you were going to give me something of yours to wear.”

             Mingyu swallows hard. He was almost going to ask if you’d prefer to wear his clothes, but he controls himself yet again. 

 “Ah, I didn’t want Chan to think anything.”

             You perk up at that comment, playing off of it. 

 “What do you mean?” You ask with a playful tone to your voice. “You’d just be helping me sleep comfortably like a good host.” You smile as you keep eye contact with him now.

 “Ah, well,” He laughs awkwardly with you, now imagining you in his clothes. The arousal only grows at the image of you in one of his old ratty shirts rather than his son’s. This is not okay though, he cannot be thinking these things while you’re less than a foot away from him with just that loose towel covering you.

 You notice his lack of words after that, so you trail your eyes down again to see if you’re truly the only one here considering things to do that Chan would find suspicious. He’s so broad, honestly, he’s big enough that he could trap you against the bathroom counter behind you and have his way with ease. 

 “Are you,” You pause for a moment, narrowing your eyes before glancing up at his eyes again, “turned on?” 

             Mingyu freezes only for a moment before putting his hands in front of himself and turning away from you while whispering a small apology. 

 “Sorry, it’s not intentional,” he goes to say, feeling his cheeks warm up at the fact that you so bluntly asked him such a thing. “I’m gonna–” he doesn’t even finish his sentence before he points to his room with his thumb, rushes down the hallway, and closes the door behind him.

             You’re left standing there in silence with Chan’s clothing in your hands. You slowly back yourself into the bathroom and get dressed with a mischievous smile on your face, opting to leave your clothes in his laundry just to try and be sneaky in order to have a reason to stop by on your own next time. 

             By the time you exit the bathroom after brushing your teeth, you’re left wondering if you should squeeze up against Chan and actually just crash here, or if you should go cause more tension with his dad, who is very clearly still awake in his bedroom because you can hear his television in there. Unsure of if you’ve crossed a line or not, your confidence is at an all time high after seeing him apologize for getting hard while looking at you. Clearly, you’re not tired, definitely not after that. He appears to be taking an interest and yes, you’re gonna see just how interested he is.

             Taking a deep breath, you pad down the hallway and knock gently at his bedroom door. You think up any excuse to give him when he creaks the door open, but thankfully you didn’t have to try too hard.

 “Where should I sleep?” You ask in mock-shyness, rubbing your thighs together and noting that he appears to be slightly out of breath. 

             Mingyu, mid-jerk off session, was not expecting you to actually keep approaching him. He is entirely too weak now, as if he wasn’t already. He still has precum against his palm when he opens his door, and you’re standing there staring up at him with damp skin and his son’s loose ass shirt hanging over your legs– jesus.

 “Um,” Mingyu clears his throat, looking down the hallway and listening for any sound that could indicate his son was awake, “Where ever you want?” He calms himself with the silence, wanting nothing more than to sink back into his bedsheets and release himself of these filthy thoughts of you. 

 “In here then.” You boldly state, pressing a palm against his door and staring directly at the wet spot against his hastily pulled-up sweatpants.

 “Wait, hold on,” Mingyu whispers as he stops you from opening his door any further. “What are you trying to do?” 

             He didn’t expect you to actually answer that question. 

 “I thought I made that obvious?” You admit, now feeling your confidence break a bit because you really thought he was also sending signals. 

 “You did, but I can’t just let this happen.” Mingyu follows up with his own admittance, noting the way your face falls, and instantly he feels fucking bad about it. A face so pretty shouldn’t be looking so defeated by a mere rejection out of pure moral stance, he really shouldn’t say anything more. 

             He watches as you slowly nod, accepting his rejection and preparing to turn around and probably get in your car to go home. Against his better judgment and allowing his weakness to take hold, he speaks up again. 

 “Wait, wait, it’s not that I wouldn’t,” You perk right back up as he talks. “I just– I can’t do that to him.”

 “Do what to him?” You tilt your head at him, lifting your palm back to his door to try and press it open again, shockingly, he lets you this time. “He and I aren’t dating, he’s never even tried anything with me when he’s sober.”

             Mingyu thinks hard about this now, stepping back from his door and knowing for a fact that the moment you step into his room it’s over for him. He didn’t expect you to be like this, but god it’s doing something for him. Are you this forward towards his son, or would you be this forward toward him if he actually made a sober move on you? No, no. He shouldn’t be thinking about that right now, with the way you’re clearly trying to come onto him.

 “That isn’t the point, I’m not that kind of person.” Mingyu tries to argue, eyes boring holes through you with lust that doesn’t match his argument at all.

             You don’t want to push him if he’s genuinely not wanting to do this with you, but god, you’ve imagined this far more than you’d like to admit. 

 “Would you though? If the circumstances were different?”

             Mingyu appears to be totally lost at this point, standing there as he watches you step through his doorway, looking so….touchable in his son’s clothes. 

 “Fuck, yeah.” He sighs out this time, blatantly staring you down before realizing what he just said, and he struggles to take back the words. 

             You watch as his sweatpants move along with the twitch of his length beneath, and you do little to sway his break of control. If anything, you make it harder by stepping closer to him. 

 “If I asked you to touch me right now, would you?” You ask him, closing the distance and practically feeling his warmth pull you in.

             If he wasn’t in the middle of pleasuring himself when you knocked, he would be able to turn you away, but he was so fucking close. And now you’re actually in this room with him, much like he was imagining. 

 “I shouldn’t,” He whispers in defeat, all while his hand reaches out to yours and trails it straight to his clothed cock. “This is not something I should want to do–”

             You feel him twitch under your palm, warm from his arousal. You wonder if he was in here thinking about you before you knocked. 

 “Were you jerking off to me?” You ask bluntly, squeezing him and watching the way he releases a sigh before his eyes fall back onto yours, darker than before. 

 “Close the door.” He says, ignoring your question and stepping past his own boundary line. 

             Even when you pull away from him with a wicked smirk, his hips chase your palm until it’s out of reach and you’re silently closing his door. You approach him quickly this time, reaching between his legs without a hint of fear as you squeeze around him to make him release a sigh similar to the one before. 

 “Were you?” You ask again, jerking your hand up a bit and feeling the thickness of him, rubbing your legs together once again. This is really happening this time, and it was almost too easy.

             Mingyu nods shamefully, reaching to grab your wrist and halt its movements.

 “Wait,” He warns, throwing his head back for a moment with a frustrated groan. He’s arguing with himself in his head, sending mixed signals of what he wants and then immediately pulling back. “I really shouldn’t be doing this.”

             You pause, looking at him and the way he rolls his head forward to look at you again. You say nothing and your hand remains halted against his length as he makes a mental list of the  pros and cons of this situation. It’s entirely silent, and you smile when he bucks his hips up against your palm, seemingly making a decision. 

 “Shit,” he groans with a breathy chuckle, rubbing himself against you. You can see his bicep flex as he holds your hand there, and you honestly expected him to be more in control of his body. Somehow, it’s far more sexy to see him fight himself over you. 

 “Let me,” you comment gently, trying to move your hand and feeling the way he relaxes under it with another low rumble of a moan. “I want to.” 

  He’s already crossed his moral line, and the guilt that could come from this is replaced with arousal. The thoughts he had of you from before all could come true at this moment, and possibly only happen just this once. 

 Mingyu’s eyes are drawn to your hand against him and he bucks his hips towards the warmth on instinct. It feels so good to be touched by someone other than himself. He’s going to let himself have you, just this once. Hopefully, Chan won’t find out, and hopefully, this won’t happen again. 

             Your hand moves so gently over his length that despite barely feeling it through the thick sweatpants, it somehow sends shivers down his spine. He can’t keep his hips from moving, and he can’t stop breathing out little sounds because it genuinely feels like he’s fucking melting at your touch. Sure, it would probably be this way if anyone were to touch him like this after so long of being alone, but the fact that it’s you… for some reason has his head spinning. Out of anyone on this planet that he should be doing this with, it’s you. 

             You switch between watching his face to watching his hips. A man so broad and intimidating in stature is acting much like an inexperienced man being touched for the first time, and it’s throwing you for a loop. Just a little bit. After imagining him pinning you down, tearing you apart, and talking down to you so many times– it’s a bit of a shock seeing him do everything but that. 

 The look in his eyes is reluctant but his hips move with purpose against your hand. It’s cute. Watching him somehow seem so composed but unraveling all at once over your hand alone is something you’ve never experienced, so you were more than happy to snake your hand under the waistband of his sweats and watch him shiver at the sensation. 

 When you feel the warmth between his legs and the slippery beads of precum dripping out of him, it was easy to grasp him and imagine the weight of his cock inside of you. That alone blew your pupils out as you stare up at him, learning the ways in which he prefers to get touched. 

             His hips don’t stop moving towards you, and even at this angle of simply standing in front of him, you can feel the desperate force behind his movements. It’s so insanely hot to be doing this with Mingyu at all that you think you’d accept just about anything from him at this point.

             It only took less than a minute of jerking him off beneath those sweats when he dips his head down. You can feel his breath against you, fanning against your chin until it’s replaced with his hand, skewing your head away so that he can attach his lips directly to your neck.

             God, it’s something he’s doing. Holding you there, breathing heavily as his tongue swipes your pulse point with little muffled sighs as your hand grips and squeezes him. You can feel his hips continue to speed up, fucking into the circle your fingers make around him. For a solid moment there, you thought you were dreaming, but his raspy voice pulls you from that idea, planting you back in reality. 

 “I’ve thought about this a few times,” he whispers, kissing his way to the other side of your neck. “Have you?”

             You nod, feeling more pre-cum drip from him. Your hand glides up and down his length perfectly as he moves his hips in sync, laying sloppy and breathy kisses just below your ear.

 “I’ve thought about this since the first day I saw you,” you admit, leaning your head back a bit to try and get him to look at you, “I didn’t imagine you being this big though, Mr.Kim.”

             Mingyu does pull back at the name, his lips slack and puffy as he looks at you with disapproval.

 “Mm, don’t call me that, sweetheart. Mingyu is fine,” he pauses as you nod to him, and winces a bit at the way your fingers tease the head of his cock so beautifully. He has to breathe through his nose to keep himself from shoving you to the floor and spreading you open on him. “I’m not turned on because of a power dynamic–” He admits with a sigh. 

 “Oh?” You question, pressing yourself up against him and gaining a new angle for your wrist to begin flicking around his length. “Why are you doing it then?” 

             You are curious as to why he’s found an interest in you, though you refuse to question it. If it’s like it is in porn, where it’s strictly the age gap or the idea of having the power of another, so be it. It appears though, that Mingyu has other reasons. 

 “Because I want to know how you sound when you’re drenching my cock and saying my name.”

             Oh, there’s the Mingyu you imagined so many times before. Saying filthy things already, making your legs feel like jelly at the sheer image of him letting you drench him. You felt those words hit you right in the core. Your entire body tenses out of pleasure. You’re fucking tingling, and instantly pressing him forward to see if he really meant what he said. 

             Mingyu isn’t used to talking dirty these days though, but he can see the way you react to those words. Being led to his own bed by you says enough about how that made you feel. 

             When he falls back on the bed, you see the way his darkened pupils overtake the fond smile on his lips, and when you pull your hand from his pants and try to crawl on top of him, it confuses you when he stops you. 

             You look down at him, tilting your head in question before he speaks.

 “Take his clothes off first, I want to see you,” he mumbles, his own hands rubbing down his abs and his fingers tucking under his own sweats. 

             You nod, backing yourself up and sliding Chan’s boxers down your legs. You watch the way Mingyu watches you, seemingly treating this like a show as he slips his hand under his sweats and resumes to himself what you had been doing for him before. The hidden movement under those sweats ignites a fire inside of you, the reality of Mingyu pleasuring himself to you taking off his son’s clothes hits you so fucking hard. You feel desired by a man that shouldn’t desire you, and it makes you feel so fucking sexy.

 He’s watching you hard and even lets a small and choked-out moan fall from his lips when you begin to lift the shirt off of you. 

 “Anyone would be lucky to have you,” he compliments, blatantly squeezing his palm around the base of his length and imagining that it’s you sinking down on him. “Come here.” 

             As he reaches his free hand out to invite you on top of it, the words he said make you buckle into a world of shyness. You almost want to hide your face from his fond and darkened eyes, especially as he continues to palm against himself even as if you sit on his thighs. 

             You watch the movements under his sweats until your eyes are torn from the act, his warm hand pressing you up further and then guiding your face down to his. There, you expect to share a kiss with him, but he just ghosts his lips over yours, eyes falling into a half-lidded look. Your own eyes flutter closed, parting your lips for him– but instead of feeling him kiss you, you only feel his words come out in sighed mumbles. 

 “How do you feel about feeling my tongue on you?” he whispers, flexing his arm at your side as he fucks into his own fist harder now that he has you on top of him.

             You open your eyes to look at him, noting his dazed smile, pupils blown under those half-closed lids. You’ve never ridden a man’s face before, despite having been eaten out several times. You’re a little nervous, but he nods an encouragement out to you as he attempts to guide you further up. 

 “Don’t be shy, babe. I want to taste you,” he pauses to look at your face, trying to show that you can say no, even with your pussy already nearing where he wants it to be. “Yeah?”

             You give him a shy nod, scooting up until you’re sitting on his chest and leaning back a bit. You’re trying to remain confident enough to do it yourself, but he continues to guide you, all the way until you’re propping yourself up with your knees on either side of his head. You can feel his eyelashes flutter against your thighs when you hover, and he starts kissing the flesh there, giving you no reason to feel embarrassed at all. It feels almost ticklish, and it makes your legs shake at the sensation. 

             As he continues to kiss against your thighs, you can feel his free hand move to grope your ass, spreading you open just a bit and rocking you just inches from his mouth. The pressure of waiting to feel his tongue on you is one thing, but feeling his big hand guide you to sit a little closer had you obeying instantly. 

             Still trying to remain confident, you look down between your legs and can only see the mess of hair fanned against his mattress, you kind of love the image. Knowing that it’s his face down there, and that’s his tongue working its way on your thigh and closer to your core. You jolt slightly when you feel the warm muscle tease at your folds, flicking gently before his hand begins to rock you against it, encouraging you to grind.

             You’re very reluctant at first, even upon feeling his tongue travel to your clit when he guides your hips back. It’s only when he leans his head up a bit to close any amount of space between his mouth and your pussy, that you release a shaky moan. His tongue circled your clit before sucking hard against it, and it really did make it difficult not to sit harder against him.

             Within seconds of that little sound, you hear the snap of his sweats against his abdomen and you feel both of his hands grasping at your ass. You’re seeing stars instantly when he presses you down all the way and instantly begins to part your pussy with his tongue, grinding you harshly against his mouth until he’s the one sending vibrations of moans through you.

             He lifts you up momentarily after a moment just to look at your pussy over him, and rolls his eyes back in an even filthier-sounding moan. 

 “Do you even know how wet you are?” He asks, staring directly at the way your pussy pulsates above him. “Had no idea you wanted me this bad.” 

             Mingyu doesn’t even let you answer, flattening his tongue before licking a long stripe up your slit and forcing you to sit against him again with those strong hands. He moans again through your sigh of a response, unable to speak as he guides your body on him. His tongue is working wonders on you, causing your head to spin at the way he flicks his tongue against your hole before swirling it all the way up to your clit over and over again. No part of your core feels neglected, and the sensations he’s giving you is something you want to cling to. 

             For him, he wants nothing more than for you to use this to your advantage. He wants nothing more than for you to grind against his tongue and force the taste of you on him until he never forgets the feeling of your pussy on his lips. But this. This is enough, especially compared to how bold you were being before. Feeling your legs shake around his head only drives him to keep going. He wants to hear you, taste you, feel you. He wants you to know what it’s like to have a real man pleasure you.

             He opts this time to grind your pussy forward until his nose is nuzzled against your clit and his tongue is teasing your entrance and he leaves you that way. Frantically moving his hand back to his cock and letting out a filthy groan against you as he finally gains his own friction again. You barely notice, feeling jolts of pleasure shoot through your body as you grind without intention this time, chasing the feeling in the same way he was guiding you. 

             When you do that, you feel him nod with a growl before slipping his tongue into you and tasting the way your walls clench even that. He sounds filthy and the fact that he seems to really enjoy that you’re doing this? It only drives you to actually ride his face, sliding back and forth, fucking yourself against his tongue until you slide all the way back just to see his face. 

 “Am I hurting you?” You ask, your pussy clenching at the image of him.

             He doesn’t respond and instead looks at you with a face driven by arousal, his tongue dipping back into his mouth to taste, then sticking it out again for you to continue your pleasure on. When you don’t, he shakes his head and clears his throat a bit, attempting to answer you. 

 “Fuck, no. You could go harder sweetheart, come on.” He urges you, moving his hand faster against himself when you shyly blink at him, hovering your core above him just enough for him to lift his head and do it himself at your reluctance.

 He frantically licks against you in a way that he’s never done before. Tongue slipping in and out of every crease and crevice to taste the entirety of you before fucking his tongue in once again when your weak grinds allow it. You watch his head move between your legs and you do your best to commit this image to your memory. You really get to sit on this man’s face, and he’s really just— fucking going insane for it like this? 

             Moaning out once again, you can feel your legs shake each time his nose bumps your clit, and you clench around his tongue each time he tries to essentially fuck you that way. It’s a lot, and god you’ve never been with a man who eats pussy like this. The way he moans through it, the way you can feel his arm jerking himself off, the way he occasionally tries to look up at you.

 “Mingyu, I–” you try to say, letting your legs buckle and sitting flush against his tongue again, resuming the weak grinds you had offered before. “You should stop, before I–”

             He taps your leg, causing you to lift a bit before he speaks out in an even raspier voice.

 “Do it. On my tongue.” He pleads without letting you answer, shoving you by your ass directly back onto his mouth and somehow, licking you with even more pressure. 

             You can feel him nod when you jerk your hips on him, his free hand guiding you back and forth in a harsher way. His tongue fucks into you a few more times before he’s holding you in place, attaching his lips to your clit, and sucking so hard against it that you feel that wave of pleasure hit you like a bag of bricks. 

             He made it happen so fast, legs squeezing around his head as you jolt and stutter against his tongue that flattens out and bumps your clit. You hold yourself there, swirling your hips and drenching his mouth entirely. You clench around nothing, orgasming solely from clit stimulation and it makes your ears pop and ring as you work through it. 

             And by the time you’re done, you panic. Is he okay? You’re sure you squeezed his head with your legs too tightly, you sat too hard, and you rutted against his tongue until he couldn’t breathe.

             Quickly, you slide off of his face, feeling embarrassed and quite frankly, apologetic that you did that but instead of finding a nearly choked out man, you see him lying there with a glistening face and a filthy fucking smile. 

 “You ride so well, sweetheart,” he compliments, quickly pulling his hand from his cock to prevent his own orgasm, “ you sounded so pretty like that.”

             He thinks hard about this, knowing that this is probably what his son wishes he can do for you, but at this point, he’s not even sorry. The way you choke out quiet sobs of pleasure, the way your legs were shaking around him, the way you fucking tasted against his tongue. No, he gets to be selfish. Fuck all else, he’s going to let you ruin him. 

 “Lie back, babe.” He says gently, waiting for you to adjust yourself comfortably against the bed before pulling his sweats off of him and shivering at the cold air that hits his pre-cum soaked length. He looks at you as you lay there, grabbing a pillow and adjusting it under your head with a soft smile before touching your face. 

 “Can I fuck you?” He asks, leaning to hover over you and running his hand down your waist. 

             Your eyes trail straight to the cock you hadn’t been able to actually see yet, seeing the way it glistens and twitches with the need to be touched. You want nothing more than for this man to plunge himself so deeply inside of you, that you can only say his name when you get fucked by anyone else. 

             His eyes watch yours as you stare between his legs and he easily slots himself between yours, fawning over the way your body heaves as you continue to catch your breath from that last orgasm. 

 “Yeah?” He asks for confirmation, yet again gripping himself and pumping against his own length as he waits for you to answer. 

             You nod, rolling your hips and bumping your warm, saliva-soaked, pussy against the knuckles of his hand as he pumps himself. He loves how your neediness matches his own, and he coos at the way you say nothing but communicates solely through grinding against nothing for him to fill you up. 

             The chuckle he lets out at you is another thing you had thought about time and time again. Being laughed at, degraded. Mingyu is everything and nothing like what you imagined him to be, but he’s also making you feel better than you imagined too. You blink up at him, trying to muster the words for him, wanting to see the fire in his eyes ignite further than it already has. 

 “I like it rough, deep.”

             Yeah, that did something for him, you can tell with the way he drops his head and immediately positions his length against you. 

 “How deep, sweetheart?” He asks, teasing your hole with the head of his cock and pressing in only slightly. 

             You roll your hips forward, enveloping his tip and smiling at him. You think he loses himself right then and there, pressing into you with one long and languid thrust, committing the feeling of your inner walls hugging his cock tightly to memory, pulsating around him until he bottoms out with a released sigh. 

 “So fucking deep,” he says more to himself then to you, holding himself above you and bracing one hand at the side of your head and the other on your waist. “Deeper.” He coos, angling himself slightly and pressing into you more somehow. 

             You can’t fucking breathe, feeling him, seeing him, smelling him. You’re actually fucking the Kim Mingyu right now. All of your wet dreams compiled into one fucking instance and it’s happening to you right now in the early morning hours while your recent crush is dozed off in the living room. 

             You clench, squeezing your eyes shut and trying to keep yourself from moaning as loud as you’d like to right now.

             He waits for you to adjust, twitching inside of you and working up a sweat as he attempts to control himself until you’re ready for the second half of your request. You wanna be fucked deep, and you wanna be fucked rough? Lucky him, because he’s about three seconds from ruining the both of you out of sheer desperation to feel your pretty hole squeeze him through orgasm.

 “And rough?” He whispers, leaning down and whispering against your ear. You can feel his grip on your waist tighten when he pulls his hips back, relieving the pressure inside of you before pressing in again.

             The moan he lets out against your neck is honestly the best thing you think you’ve ever heard, your nipples perk up at the sound of him fucking you, and you do everything you can to encourage him to do just that. 

             You nod with a broken moan, desperate enough to have him pulling back to look at you as he slides out again, and then plunges into you once, hard. The way your body shifts up as his hips meet your thighs is enough to have him doing it again, and again. A string of hard, deep, and pointed thrusts sending little yelps out of your throat each time his hips spread your legs a bit more for him.

             The hand on your waist moves up to your left nipple and he pinches it slightly before falling forward again, bracing himself on both arms at either side of your head. His rhythm sends him over the edge and makes him fuck into you even harder as he breathes out and rests his forehead against yours. 

 “Sweetheart?” he lets out between deep breaths, the sound of slapping echoing to the point that you hope it doesn’t wake up the sleeping boy in the other room, “hold onto me.” 

             You don’t know why that does it for you, but it fucking does. You didn’t even realize you needed something to hold on to until you released you were gripping the covers with tightened knuckles. Releasing the blankets, you throw your arms around his shoulders. 

 “Legs too,” he chuckles, licking against your bottom lip in a teasing kind of way.

             Your legs shoot around him too, squeezing his body and pushing him to thrust into you in a way that keeps his cock almost completely buried into you, thrusting tightly. Only an inch or two leaving you before the head of his cock bumps the deepest part of your inner walls. 

             Feeling that, knowing that Mingyu’s cock is reaching where no cock has gone before, you tilt your chin up and connect your lips with him. The first heated kiss sends shockwaves through your body and causes you to clench so tightly around him, that he fucking growls into it rather than moaning. 

             His pointed thrusts grow tighter, faster, and your arms continue to hug and squeeze against him as your tongue swirls around his. Teeth clinking, his sweat dripping a bit to the point of even tasting a bit of that salt fall past his lips and against yours.

             Both of you are fucking gone, deep breaths and deep thrusts, his cock is pressing against that spot inside of you and all you can do is fucking– you let go.

             Your mouth falls slack against his own, and he continues to lick into your mouth until he realizes. Your pussy jolts around him and he pulls his head back, watching you fall into a state of bliss before he’s instantly shoving his hand between the tight space of your bodies and harshly rubbing your clit. 

 “Oh, baby,” he coos out in his own moan, the image of actually seeing you come sending him over the edge himself. “That’s it,” he moans again, chasing his own high and feeling dangerously close already, “So pretty, you’re so fucking pretty like this.”

             And there he goes too. You’re still riding out the last of your high when you feel him still his hips and press himself impossibly closer to you. He can feel your walls hug him, squeezing his come out of him in such a filthy way that he can’t help but whisper and babble out nonsense to you. Words of, you feel so good, i wanted this so badly, fuck yes–, fuck, fuck, just going to let me come in you like this?, fuck, oh, god. 

             It was a lot of nonsense, but to you and your dazed-out thoughts, it sounded like a mantra. 

             Even as the two of you laid there, fucked out and out of breath, neither of you felt any guilt. Why should you? Because you have (had) a crush on Chan? You’re not dating him, you’re an adult, and you can fuck whoever you want. Mingyu’s thought process is similar, though he’s sure the guilt will hit him later if anything were to happen. 

 ~

             The guilt did hit him later. He’d say around the time you stopped by three days after you spent the night to pick up your clothes. 

             Did he fuck you again? Yes. Right up against the washer in his tiny laundry room. Just as deep, but not as rough. 

 Is he only growing more weak towards you? Absolutely. Especially when you continue to find reasons to see him without Chan around. 

Unsure of what the future holds between the two of you, Mingyu tries not to think of you as anything more than someone he casually has sex with. If you and Chan start dating, that’ll be fucking awkward, but for some reason, he can’t bring himself to believe that will ever happen. Not when he’s already had you moaning his name, not when you wrap your arms around him the way you do.

~

― part two here!

#kim mingyu smut #mingyu smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #mingyu x reader

[schwarzkatje]

ellie hates you. part 2

a/n: gosh i sure hope you like it depraved. go here for part 1

"fucking coward".

yeah. that pretty much sums up how ellie feels about herself.

"stupid fucking coward".

correction. guess the list just goes on.

the way she had just stormed out of your cabin after eating you out like she had never done to any other girl and after having set her intentions straight, was more than enough material to earn herself such a title.

and by the way, what had her plan been exactly, mh? humiliate you? perhaps, even hoping for some kind of disgust elicited in you? maybe... a little resistance? she had hoped you would have loathed it and instead she got an hungry kitten in heat with moans too high pitched to forget and a pussy so creamy she regrets not having slapped it to see some droplets of juice spurting.

the more she spirals down the black hole that is you, the more she is torn between the overlapping of the ever so present series of events that just occurred, and those which she swears is willing to feed her pride to the first demon she would summon to have them happen.

if only she hadn't been such a pathetic hypocrite, that is.

thus, there she lied. on her bed, alone, with your taste infiltrating her mouth and all her other senses as though you involuntarily tormenting ellie during every goddamn second of her daily life and routine was news.

she had fucked up so bad. so, so fucking bad. for this reason, she may as well let everything go downhill and dance on her own shattered pride and dignity.

with the first hand that responded her instincts, ellie finds herself massaging her crotch through her boxers. closing her eyes adds to the depravity, and thus she goes for it.

her scent is palpable, so much so that her wetness pales in comparison to the strong force with which it hits ellie's nostrils.

and certainly her mind doesn't sit back and let the sheer sensations do all the work. not when it is the most efficient and powerful and filthy tool ellie has.

with such a rotted brain she wastes no more than two seconds to recall how you had sobbed wetly, lips recollecting what was left of your sanity with the sole purpose to beg ellie to keep going, to keep on licking you, to continue her punishment.

but not only that. as ellie discards her underwear and draws confused circles on her clit, she furiously squints her eyes, as though this would accelerate the process of creating even more mental images of you.

and that is how ellie starts tracing the outline of a draft for the continuation of before, once that never happened because of her cowardice. a continuation which involves ellie raising to her feet, flipping you over the counter while hoisting one of your legs to have your pretty hole spread beyond shame.

a scenario full of hair pulling, spanking and even more tears, even more degrading words to which you nod because deep down you know how much of a dirty slut you are and how you need a woman like ellie to remind you your place.

an imaginary alternative to the past that has ellie taking full advantage of your overexposed position to let her own pussy collided against yours, perfectly taking in the shape of one another.

her own clit screaming to meet yours again and again and again until it becomes impossible to distinguish which one of you is closer to madness.

despair is ellie's primary driving force and the responsible for her brutal grip on you hips, deprived of free movement and obliged to follow her pace, the one ellie oh so lucidly wanted to maintain then and there.

her clit doesn't stop fucking your pussy from behind and you can't decide if what is making you roll your eyes the most is when the throbbing bud meets its twin or when it almost gives the illusion of penetrating your moist hole.

ellie will have to wait for another masturbation session to decide how you are going to act and which one of the two options is making you come undone in her fantasy because she is now convulsing on her own hand, while her head contorts in an unnatural position.

but that is all ellie can aspire to do when you and now she too are sabotaging her stupid fucking coward self.

#ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie x reader #ellie x reader smut #ellie williams smut #ellie x y/n #ellie smut #ellie x you #the last of us smut #ellie williams x you #ellie the last of us #loser!ellie #loser ellie

[getitoutofmymindwrites]

I don't even know your name | joel miller x f!reader, 8,3k

Summary: Your life changes dramatically and you turn to your best friend, Trish, for help. Trish is Joel’s cousin and little did you know when you accidentally met him at a bar, before Trish officially introduce you to one another. He’s emotionally unavailable -or so he thinks-, you have lost faith in people -or so you think. Basically, two idiots falling for each other, choosing to torture themselves.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, no outbreak, angst, Joel is 45ish, reader is 35 with two baby girls, allusions to smut, dirty thoughts, swearing, no physical description of the reader (but she will have long hair for smut purposes later on, hehe), no use of y/n, I’m not good at warning people, tell me what am I missing!

A/N: This has taken me forever, my life is a f’ing mess, but I didn’t want to abandon it. I’m splitting the story to parts, otherwise you’d been reading it until The Second Coming. 😅😏🫣 Thank you to anyone who’s taking the time to read this, I love you and I hope you enjoy it!😘

Dividers by @cafekitsune

“Guys?” you drag out the word, “Do we really have to have the talk?” you try to avoid the conversation, knowing yourself and how you usually respond to these kind of questions, damn your spontaneity, shifting restlessly into the couch. Joel’s presence, sitting across the room on the comfy armchair, near the lit fireplace, isn’t helping in the slightest. He looks too invested in your point of view, but you already expected that. You try to avoid his gaze for as long as you can.

“Yes! Get the conversation going, babe, don’t be shy!” a female voice comes from a different part of the house. Joel doesn’t respond, looking quite nonchalant, in an effort to not seem.. eager. But you know better.

“It’s not a matter of shyness, on the contrary, you know I’m in the habit of not holding my tongue, and that can often get me in trouble..”, you sigh, shaking your head.

I have a few ideas involving that tongue of your- Stop it. Joel suppresses his thoughts audibly, by clearing his throat. “How come?” he finally joins in. You love the sound of that word on his mouth. Shaping into a different meaning inside your mind every time he uses it, pumping all of your blood to all the right places. Four months into knowing him and you quickly came to realize if you let your guard down, you would be done for. And now was not the time. You had a million loose ends to work out.

“Oh, you know, people tend to get the wrong idea, assuming things about me. I wish I could shut me up sometimes.” Oh, the ways I could shut that pretty little mouth, darlin’. Get it together. She’s not good for you. Or maybe you’re not good enough for her., he’s looking away, focusing on Trish, his cousin and your dear friend, who rushes out of her kitchen holding your -God knows what round of- drinks, almost stumbling on the carpet, while Joel’s trying to clear his head.

“What’s the rush Trish, anything to get off your chest?” you ask, squinting at her in a shut-the-fuck-up way. She bursts into laughter before she can even begin to talk, not taking the hint. Or pretending not to. Definitely pretending. Menace. “You remember that time, where were we?” She’s clicking her fingers together in an effort to jog her own memory. “With that dude? Who thought you wanted to talk your way into fucking him? Like he needed any convincing whatsoev-”

“We’ve met a lot of dudes together Trish; you being the main reason we’ve met them in the first place.” you interrupt, rolling your eyes at your friend. Joel is raising an eyebrow, looking back and forth between you and her. “I’m gonna need you to be more specific. Actually, don’t, you already embarrassed me enough!” you hold back a smile covering your face with one hand, as you pull your feet on the couch, bringing your knees to your chest in an effort to create a barrier between you and the space surrounding you, to feel some kind of protection around you.

Trish is looking so amused, she’s having a hard time concentrating. “I don’t remember nor the place or the dude, but you were defending, quite passionately I might add, womens’ equal right to one night stands and how we should have the same amount of pleasure as men without the guilt that comes with it; Joel you should see her, she almost raised the flag of revolution!” Where are you going with this Trish..?

“Did she, now..” Joel runs his eyes up and down, taking you all in, sipping his whiskey slowly, licking his bottom lip after he swallowed. Jesus, that neck.

You groan in frustration, “Here it comes. Another one who speculates. Ok, let me have it.”, you almost snap, observing the way he’s checking you out. But he knows better. There’s an intensity radiating out of him, you can almost feel the warmth of it on your skin and you let your mind wonder how he would feel like over you, under you or in any way he would choose to manhandle you. Manhandle? Where is this coming from?

“Hey, she’s the one who said ‘passionately’!” Joel raises his hands up in defense, his brows raised and knead together, clearly amused on the information he’s extracting so effortlessly. Trish takes her seat next to you to the couch, enjoying the moment more than she should, looking at the two of you.

“I’m not- I don’t- uuuuh, Trish why are you doing this to me?” you whine in exasperation, looking up to the ceiling, and rolling your eyes shut.

“Because maybe you should! Come on, live a little!”, she grumbles, grabbing your forearm, shaking you dramatically. Trish was actually living, more than a little, her life, full of experiences, lovers, you name it. Sometimes you wished you could live so carefree. She has been desperately trying to pour some of her carnal wisdom into you. For years. Now, given your emotional status, she believes it’s her best chance. So, she pushed.

“Should do what?” Joel interjects curiously.

Trish opens her mouth and spills it out before you can stop her, “Fuckarounds!” -her take on one night stands- “or at least something casual, since she insists that one flavor is better than a sea of delicacies.”, she winks dramatically in your direction.

“Yeah, no, that’s- that’s great, let’s bring Joel into this conversation” you sigh, rubbing your forehead and tilting your head down.

“Oh, I thought-” he looks genuinely confused at your reaction. At this point he’s confused about a lot of things.

“Yes! Exactly! Of course you thought! That’s what I meant before. Just because I can’t bring myself to do it, it doesn’t mean that it’s wrong, or that I’m judgmental of people that do it. Hell, sometimes I wish I was those people.. That’s what I was trying to explain to the dude-”

“You see?” she turns to Joel for backup, “quite the lawyer we have here! And the dude didn’t get the memo.”, she turns to you once more. You shake you head at her and you both laugh at the memory.

“She’s insufferable sometimes, but I’ll get her mind around, don’t you worry!”, she adds, taking her eyes from yours to Joel’s, smiling at the implication, almost like.. you’re spoken for?? What the fuck, Trish? Your face feels like it’s on fire and you’re pretty sure it’s showing, too. You can always blame it on the heat of the fireplace. Now it’s Joel’s turn to shift to his seat uncomfortably. He, thankfully, rises from his spot and let both of you know he’s heading to the kitchen for a refill.

“What the fuck are you doing?”, you hiss at her. “He’ll think I put you up to this.”

“Up to what?” Trish plays dumb, but failing monumentally.

“Dude, you can’t have your cousin think that I’m into him, it’s not right. I didn’t asked you to. Quit it.”, you whisper in despair.

“Love, seriously, you need to at least de-stress yourself.” Trish pressures on. “It’s been, what, six months since the divorce, four months in, leaving with me, I mean, that’s unacceptable.”

“Look, I’ll move, the first house I’ll find, I promise, I don’t want to overstay my welcome-”

“Hey, I’m talking about letting four perfectly good months fly away without getting any. Especially, when you have such a skilled babysitter. You're not taking advantage of me enough.” She moves her hands around her body, showing herself. “And I told you, you and the girls can stay here indefinitely. I fuckin’ mean it.”

“Well, less of the ‘f’ word in front of them, if you do!”, you tease. “Thank you, but I’ll find a place. I need to. I want to bring some kind of normalcy back into our lives. Their lives.”

“I know, baby. But seriously. You’re fucking 35. You act like your life is over. He’s not worth it.”

“We’ve been through that before Trish, it’s not about him, I just-” you exhale, shaking your head, “l don’t think there’s anyone out there for me, you know? I feel like I’m too old for any of this. Point me to the direction of one guy, just one, who would even consider to engage with a 35 year old divorced mother of two and I’ll take him, Scout’s honor.”

She opens her mouth to say something but reconsiders, trying to find the right words. She knows you have a point. “That’s why I insist for you to.. FUCK AROUND! No strings attached. How sweet of you to help me prove my point!!”, Trish exclaims triumphantly.

You pretend to be in deep thinking, finally concluding, “You know what, I’m done with men. Not worth the energy spent. Hey, maybe I’ll date you; we love each other, we practically live together, it’s a done deal!” You both laugh at the idea.

“Aaaaaw, I’m fluttered hot mama, but maybe you should give ‘em men a chance, before you flip the coin!”, she pushes on.

You really look at her now, trying to see her point of view. You were lonely, you were touch deprived, you longed for intimacy, but intimacy in your case meant sentiment. And sentiment comes form some kind of attachment. You wanted, you needed, hell, you craved to connect. “You know, you always insist on all that casual thing, but I’m in a place in life that.. what’s the point?”

“Um, the point of someone else giving you an orgasm?”, she deadpans.

“Oh God..”, you drug your hand down your face, feeling defeated. “Seriously? Because I’m pretty sure this coffee table here,” you point at it with your brows, “can find my bud easier than half the men out there.”, you blurt out in frustration. Joel coughs, choking on his whiskey. You both jolt from your seats on the couch at the sound, turning your heads, one in amusement and one in embarrassment, seeing Joel standing at the living room entrance, frozen in place. Neither of you heard him approaching. If you could hold your tongue for once, woman. Just once.

“So..” he drags the word out, “what about the other half?”, he shakes off the awkwardness of the moment and sly his way into the conversation. You both look at him with a dumbfounded expression on your faces.

“Joel, how long have you been standing there?” Trish wonders, raising one brow devilishly.

“Enough to know I was right to have been standing there as long as I have.” he smirks into his glass, swallowing another sip. You’re too mortified to register the question as non-rhetorical. You almost stop breathing, praying that would make you invisible, hoping he‘d somehow forget his question.

“So?”, Joel insists, looking at you through his lashes, crossing his legs and leaning against the doorframe that connects the living area with the kitchen.

“Excuse me?”, you manage to breathe out, feeling exposed.

Joel doesn’t miss the opportunity to remind you exactly what you pointed out, moments ago. “You said that half the men can’t find y-”, he pauses, inhaling sharply, imagining how good you would look, all naked and spread out under him, but hearing in his mind how intimate what he’s about to say sounds, he corrects himself. “Uh, a woman’s bud.” He moves his hands in the air in a generic motion. You feel so embarrassed, you think you might explode if your heart rate doesn’t drop down. “So, what about the other half of us?” his eyes are burning coals, piercing through you. You pick up the insinuation immediately. He knows his way around a woman’s body. Ok, thank you for the burning image of you eating me out, fingering me to death or rubbing me to completion, Joel. But where the fuck is he going with this? He knows by now that you’re candid like that and you’ll answer accordingly, so he presses all your buttons on purpose, he’s got to be. You devil, we had a fucking deal. You smile, accepting the challenge as you decide to answer him. Two can play that game.

“Oh, you mean the emotionally unavailable half?”

He certainly didn’t expect this response. His face drops suddenly, his jaw flexes; you are positive that a nerve has been touched. He looks embarrassed, like a child caught with his hand in the honey pot and you immediately feel sorry for him. You hate making people feel bad. Even if you’re right. Damn people pleaser.

Too forward? Too soon? Maybe both? You open your mouth to say something -anything- but your mind goes blank. He looks down at his half-empty glass and goes “Huh.”, before he empties the poison of his choice down his throat in one gulp. He calmly leaves the now empty glass on the coffee table, forming a one-sided kind of knowing smile on his face and he leaves the room quietly, leaving you feeling guilty.

You realize that you need to breathe at some point, so you take a sharp breath, after you hear the front door closing behind him.

“Well.. that went well.” Trish comments, looking at her nails.

You snap your head at her, feeling ready to explode. “That doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”

“No, but it leaves you minus one penis.”, she deadpans.

“I’m not interes-“ her eyes move up to yours so quickly, staring at you in a don’t-bullshit-me way, that you don’t dare finish your sentence. “Even I would be interested if he wasn’t a relative.” she feels the need to exaggerate.

“He’s not what I’m looking for, Trish.”

“But he might be just what you need.” Damn, she’s on a roll tonight. “Is there something going on? I mean between the two of you.”

Panic rises fast inside of you like waves crushing on rocks. You think you can hear your heartbeat. “No, of course not.”

Trish gives you an investigative look, as if staring at you long enough would make you admit the truth she thinks she knows. “Are you sure?”

“Joel and I couldn’t be further apart, trust me.”

BEFORE

He observes you sitting on the bar stool for a long time, almost memorizing your every curve and line. He doesn’t mean to, but he can’t take his eyes off of you. He can’t even see your whole face, but something makes him stare. You stand out to him for some reason. Maybe it’s the intense antithesis against your surroundings. Still, while everyone moves. Sad, while everyone laughs. Quiet, while everyone yells into each others’ ears. Lonesome in a sea of people. Your gaze is soft and detached, like all the burden of the world is on your shoulders. Holding your beer for far too long, sipping slowly straight from the bottle, like you’re trying to prolong your stay at the bar, or maybe avoiding going back to where you came from. He’s standing up.

You’re sitting on the bar stool, looking absentmindedly at the bartender on the other side of the counter, moving around, serving drinks. And you’re just sitting there. Alone. Wondering how the hell did you come to this. You always thought it was kind of strange going out on your own. Never done it before. But here you are. Here you are.

It’s been a week since you left your whole life behind you, leaving everything you knew and hold dear, moving to your best friend’s house, temporarily. Until you figure out what you’re going to do. She insisted to babysit so you can go out and have fun. She was funny that way. Have fun. All you wanted was to just disconnect from the world. Not think of anything. Not worry about anyone. Not much of a choice when you are a parent though. Worrying is on top of your list when you have kids. Two little girls, two and a half years old and an almost six months old.

That’s what you did for the past couple of years. Giving birth and raising a baby girl. And then giving birth again to another one. Until your husband decided all of a sudden that he can’t do this anymore. You’ve become too cold, too distant, he felt under-appreciated, pushed away.

The fact that he was always gone, always working and not contributing the hours that he indeed was at home, the fact that you were practically all alone in this, was not taken into consideration.

Everything happened fairly quickly. In the course of four months you got separated, he didn’t even want to try to fix things. Not even for the sake of being able to say that you at least tried. And then other suspicions began to enter your mind-

“You really look like you need a drink.”, a deep voice distracts you from your thoughts. You would be almost thankful for the distraction, growing tired of thinking the same things over and over again, like a broken record, but your bad mood wins over this one. Without turning your head to look at the direction of the voice, you raise the hand holding your beer, motioning at it, in silence.

“Nuuuh, that’s practically water, darlin’.”, the man insists, leaning forward as he stands next to you, his body turned your way, his left foot crossing over his right, his elbow resting on the counter, holding his glass of whiskey. You still don’t turn to look at him and with all the patience that is left in you, you raise the bottle to your lips, taking a sip. “Nope, still beer.”, you answer and keep your gaze to the shelf with the drinks behind the bartender. God, you’re too old for this.

The stranger huffs a small laugh and pushes on. “At least lemme buy you a cold one. That one must taste like a piss by now.”

“Oh, you must have been watching me, then.”, you try to embarrass him in order to leave you alone.

“That, I have.” Oh, he’s got a pair.

“Well, don’t.” you snap and you finally turn to look at him.

Holy shit.

You can’t remember the last time you saw someone so beautiful. Someone, your kind of beautiful. Masculine and broad and dark but with a vibe of kindness and safety in his presence. He’s looking at you, patiently, with a hind of a smile on his lips, like he knew that you’d change your mind once you’d lay your eyes on him. You take a deep breath to compose yourself and start over. “Look, I’m sorry, you look like a decent guy, but I would just be a bad company.”

“You don’t have to apologize darlin’, you have every right to choose your company, or the lack of it for that matter. It’s ok.” he says and he’s starting to move away from you slowly like he’s going to leave you alone. And now he’s making you feel like an ass. Kill with kindness they say?

A thousand thoughts are crossing your mind, you haven’t done this for what it feels like ages, you’re out of your depth, you don’t know what you’re doing, you don’t even remember the woman behind the mother, he’s gorgeous, why the hell is he talking to you? Ok, you know what? You’re going to fucking enjoy yourself. Just make conversation, fool around, it’s not like you’re gonna see him ever again. What do you have to lose?

You exhale hard, rolling your eyes to yourself and you grab his wrist lightly to ask, “Beer offer still standing?” surprising your own self. Damn, he’s warm. Pleasantly warm. I-want-you-to-envelop-me-in-your-arms warm. He turns his head to you, his eyes drop to your hand holding his, then back to your lips and then to your eyes. He lingers for a second too long and then turns to the bartender to order. You reluctantly let go of his hand and smile coyly.

You stare at each other for a moment and you both smile, waiting for the other to initiate the conversation. “I swear I’m not trying to do small talk or throw a bunch of lines your way,” he begins playfully, “but, you don’t look like you’re from around here.”

You audibly laugh and you raise your brows in surprise. “That’s weird,” you reply scrunching your nose, “I thought that’s what people do when they’re talking to total strangers at bars.”

He snorts a laugh, fuck he’s handsome, nodding his head, “You’re gonna make me work for it, aren’t you?” he asks amused, looking at you through his lashes.

“Well, it’s either that, or you really want to get to know me for my striking personality” you answer, gaining more confidence by his reaction. It’s not like you’re gonna see him again, right?

He nods his head in amusement, “You didn’t answer my question, though.” he reminds you. You roll your eyes playfully before you tease him, “You’re right, I’m not from around here and technically that was an observation, not a question.”, you raise your cold beer pointing it his way, nodding your head in a silent thank you and then you drink from it.

He stops with his glass midair, brows raising, smirking at you. “Ok, fine, you want a real question, I’ll give ya one. Why do you look so damn sad?”, his head tilting to the side, his ear almost touching the shoulder of the arm he rests on the counter. His eyes are piercing holes in yours, making you feel vulnerable. “Uh, I-, I-, shit; that bad, huh? And there I was, thinking I was holding my own.” you mutter.

“Darlin’, someone like you, sitting on your own, not looking around to notice the number of eyes ogling you, lost in your own thoughts, doesn’t take much to figure it out..”

“Someone like me.. you mean troubled?”, you try to clarify, troubled being the only translation your mind could manage.

“I mean beautiful.”, the man delivers. Oh. His voice and his gaze determined and serious as he speaks, making you weak on the knees.

You give him a shy smile and deflect the compliment. “Most men don’t observe half of what you just said.”, you deadpan and as he opens his mouth to answer you, you add “but you’re not most men, are you?”

He’s really looking at you now, it feels like he’s savoring your details and he just smiles. A beautiful, honest, kind of sheepish smile. It fades away quickly though, his face going serious again. He keeps his eyes on you, hitting you with his perceptiveness. “What did the fucker do?” you hear him ask you, suddenly.

“Wha- How did you- what makes you think-“, you are genuinely shocked, losing your train of thought.

“Humor me.”, is all he gives you, in a low voice.

His question felt so to the point, that there was no reason for you to deny it or avoid it, so you look back to your beer, fearing to see the denigration in his eyes.

You take a deep breath and simply state, “He left me, two months after I had our second daughter.” You exhale. It feels odd to hear your own voice, to feel your tongue move in your mouth, saying those words. You haven’t talked about it enough, actually -at all, if you’re being completely honest and it feels like you talk about someone else. It’s like you’re out of your body looking at you.

And now you wait. You wait for the pity, the uncomfortable silence, the unavoidable retreat. But none of those things come. You turn to look at him and he’s standing there, looking pissed. His body stiffens, his gaze darkens and you’re pretty sure that glass of whiskey in his hand, doesn’t have much life in it. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ..” it’s all he mutters as he closes his eyes in frustration, rubbing his free hand over his face.

“So much for small talk, huh?”, you continue laughing, trying to relieve his tension. It doesn’t take, though. Why did he took it so personally? He opens his eyes again, looking at you seriously with a deep frown on his face.

You begin to feel uncomfortable, so you do what you always do best. Try to make everyone else comfortable. You start talking to fill the silence. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I know I’ve made mistakes, I wasn’t always the best wife, I was tired, I felt helpless at times, especially when raising two little girls with such a small age difference all on my own, not that that’s an excuse-“ you stop talking as he’s raising his hand in front of you to interrupt.

“Are you seriously blaming yourself right now?”, he sounds frustrated and confused, borderline offended.

“Well I’m not saying that what he did was ideal, I’m just trying to explain how hard it is to be practically all alone with two kids and how much it takes from you, how the balance is changing between the couple-”

“Ideal? That’s an interesting choice of word.”, he observes once again. Nice, you didn’t think he would catch that.

“You can’t keep anyone in your life by force. I won’t. I can’t control his feelings. It was the way he handled things that pained me the most.”, you explain.

He’s staring at you like you’re a fucking puzzle.

You sigh and continue, taking a deep breath, feeling defeated already. How you could possibly explain and how he could possibly understand? “I know most men don’t get it; you can’t understand how difficult it is to be responsible for two little people, making every decision, every second of every day, it’s exhausting, it drains you-“

“I know..” he whispers, looking at his glass, nodding his head in understanding.

“No, you don’t..” you mutter, mostly to yourself, shaking your head. He’s examining you for a second, considering if he wants to elaborate. He does.

“Sweetheart, I’m a single parent from the moment my daughter was born. Trust me when I say I know.”, he explains softly. “I get it.” His voice feels like honey to your ears.

You snap your head in his direction, shocked at his admission. He sees the cogs turning in your head, the sorrow starting to appear in your eyes and he adds with a bitter smile, “No, she didn’t die, she just left.”

Your eyes widen, unable to imagine what could have led a mother to that decision. But you immediately stop yourself. You don’t have the whole picture and it’s none of your business. You don’t get to judge. All you can say is “Fuck. That must have been hard for you.”

There’s a shift in the air, like some invisible little string connected you somehow, each of you with their own story, finding an understanding in each other.

As the conversation progresses he can’t help but wonder how did he get to that point. He was looking for a good time, maybe a blowjob or quickie in the bar’s bathroom and he ended up talking to you about his life. His daughter, his struggles. Voluntarily. And it felt good, easy, natural.

You laugh softly, out of context, shaking your head and he wants to know why. “I just-” you think again before you speak, “when you approached me I wasn’t even sure I could do that.”

“Do what?”, he asks in confusion.

“Talk to you.”, you admit.

“How do you mean?”, his brows furrow and his head tilt on one side, the edges of his mouth turning slightly upward. Stop doing that. It’s sexy.

“You know, me, sitting in a bar, talking to a stranger, it felt like I haven’t done this in forever.” It feels oddly liberating talking to him, almost like a confession.

“And how does it feel now?” he wants to know, his voice soft but commanding.

“It feels good.”, you give it to him. He makes you feel good and you want him to know.

“Good girl.”, he responds, his voice low, keeping his gaze on you, wondering how you’ll react. Oh, boy. Well, your panties are ruined. You bite your bottom lip and play along. See where it gets you. He sees that. The longing starts to become apparent on your face, in the way your lips part, your breath becomes shorter and your body subconsciously reacts to him, because you turn around in your seat, facing him fully. You clench your thighs in an effort to relieve some pressure between your legs. He sees it all.

“Although it’s a shame I didn’t get to witness you do your thing.”, you let him wonder.

His brows are raised in question, “My thing?”, he looks intrigued more than he’d like to admit. Gotcha.

“Yeah, I burdened you with my shit and I missed the chance of you flirting with me.” Someone feels ballsy. You don’t recognize yourself right now, but who cares, right?

“What makes you think I wanted to flirt with you?” he questions, almost genuinely. Almost. You freeze for a second, feeling like an idiot, but then you see him wink at you behind his raised glass.

“Right,” you drag the word, “so, you really wanted to get to know me for my striking personality”, you smile back to him.

He laughs. Genuinely. Beautifully. “Do you want me to flirt with you?” he pushes you, testing the waters. But not really. He knows he has your full attention.

“Sure, you seem like you can handle yourself.”, you answer before you overthink it and freak out.

He chuckles softly and he leans to you, right next to your flushed face, looking behind your shoulder and then down at you, his lips brushing your ear, his sparse beard tickling your cheek, one hand still on the bar and the other moving at the back of your seat, caging you. His scent invades your space, making you feel lightheaded. “Baby, you have no idea.” Your whole body is vibrating with want.

He doesn’t want to take you in the bathroom anymore.

He can see you; clearly than you can see yourself. He knows you now. He understands. He can see your path, the struggles, the challenges, the worries that lie ahead on your way. He walked that path. He bled that path. He navigates it with his eyes closed and his hands tied behind his back.

He doesn’t want to take you in the bathroom anymore.

He wants to take care of you. To breathe pleasure into you, to give you all that he abandoned for his daughter’s sake, to make you feel wanted and loved. He wants you to know that you matter to someone. That he’s gonna take his time with you, savor you, taste every inch of your body, spread you out on his bed and make you scream his name, while you tremble under his touch, his mouth, his cock.

You don’t feel like a bathroom quickie anymore. He wants more. Even if it is just for one night. Just one night. Suddenly the thought becomes unpleasant.

You turn your head to his side and search for his eyes. He responds to your plea by looking back at you. Your lips are inches apart, nearly touching. You stare at his brown, chocolaty orbs, then his plush lips, slightly open and can’t help but imagine your tongue entering his mouth, penetrating them.

You take a deep breath, preparing yourself mentally. You want to feel him any way you can, right fucking now. You want his touch, his tongue, his cock but you’ll accept whatever he’s giving you.

Get up. Get up. Get up.

You want this. You got this. You slowly exhale through your nose and you nearly press your body against his chest to stand up. Your nose almost grazes his. You look at each other, both of you full of desire.

Full of promise.

He’s curious what you’re gonna do but he’s praying you won’t do what he expects you to. Not the bathroom, not the fuckin’ bathroom, he keeps chanting internally. Lemme take care of you. You put your palm on his chest lingering for a second, “Show me, then”, you whisper in his ear and you finally make it to the bathroom. That, took every ounce of courage you had in you. Goddamn.

As you enter inside, thankfully it’s empty, you look at yourself in the mirror. You try to comprehend who are you right now, what you’re about to do. You don’t even remember how it feels to have someone else giving you pleasure. To touch you. To make you-

You hear the door opening and closing, followed by the sound of the lock. He slowly walks to you, letting you study him, through his reflection on the mirror. Giving you time to change your mind. Please change your mind. He looks so good. So good that you have to turn around and face him.

His salt and pepper hair tousled but neat at the same time, his curls above his neck making you want to tug them. Hard.

His eyes are dark, full of hunger and desire. Your eyes fall at his parted lips and then to his chiseled jawline with his sparse hair for a beard. You wanna bite every inch of it. Hard.

His frame is imposing; tall, broad, his thick forearms bulging through his black shirt, his toned thighs strained by his dark jeans. And then you see his bulge. He looks big, considerably big.

“Like what you see?”, he smiles confidently, his low timbre making you realize that you’ve been staring.

You blush in embarrassment, looking down and biting your bottom lip. He enters your comfort zone now, his hand pinching your chin between his fingers, lifting your head upward to look at him. “No need to be shy, sweetheart; I like what I see, too.”, his thumb rests lightly on your bottom lip and presses down, to free it from under your teeth.

His other hand holds your waist drawing you close to his body, his erection touching your lower stomach. You let out a small sigh.

His scent is intoxicating. It’s a mix of his fainted cologne, the smoke of cigarettes lingering in the air, the alcohol on his breath and something unique. Something his entirely. His sweat absorbed by the fabric of his clothes. The more you inhale it the wetter you get. Saliva pools in your mouth, making you swallow hard.

You squirm in your place, squeezing your legs together. He notices. Of course he notices, like he did back at the bar. Reading between your words.

He caresses your ear with his lips, whispering, “It’s ok sweetheart, I'm gonna take good care of you.” He places one hand behind your head, gently bringing you closer to him. His other one rests on your back, slowly making his way down to your ass. You look at him, surrendered to his touch. Oddly, you feel safe.

“Fuck..” you breath out.

He smiles, a little full of himself, normally it would piss you off, but right now you don’t care. He ghosts his lips along yours and he softly kisses the edge of your mouth. He places kisses along your jawline and leaves an open-mouthed kiss between your ear and your jaw. Your body shakes with goosebumps, making your knees almost buckle, his hold on your ass tightens, keeping you in place.

You can’t think of anything right now and that’s exactly what you want. Not your soon-to-be ex-husband, not your messed up life, not even the poor attempt of an outfit you wore tonight out of boredom. Plain black jeans and a lingerie black shirt. Of course with a black lacy bra under it, you’re not that adventurous.

His mouth travels to the column of your neck licking it softly from top to bottom, biting gently where it meets with your shoulder. Your cunt clenches hard, pooling more of your arousal on your already-drenched underwear. His tongue is so warm and velvety, making your eyes roll in your head. Your hands- where are your hands? One on his toned shoulder and the other on his hair, tugging his curls.

You realize that he’s softer in his touch than you would imagine for a bathroom fuck. He moves so fluidly, expertly, you feel mesmerized and a tiny part of you inexperienced and self conscious.

“I- I haven’t done this before..” you feel the need to confess, worried that you’ll do something wrong.

“I thought you had two kids.” he raises his head, tilting it, while looking at you through his lashes and bites his cheek to hide his smirk.

You stare at him for a moment and then you both burst into laughter.

You shake your head in mocking disapproval and explain, “..not the deed, the- the one-time thing..” and you bite your lip in discomfort afraid of his reaction.

His eyes are searching yours and he finally asks, “Who says this is a one-time thing?”. Bold. Surely he’s messing with you. Your breath catches on your throat, that was the last reaction you would expect. You try to read his face but he gives you nothing. You can’t figure out if he meant that or was just teasing. He nudges your nose with his, relax, baby, he whispers and he resumes his kissing path down your neck and to your chest.

He’s taking his sweet time with you. He wants to get you out of this damn bathroom. He wants to fuckin’ wreck you and he can't do that here. He doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable either by proposing a different setting, in case this is indeed how you want it, so he does what he knows. He’s driving you crazy. He’s gonna make you beg him to get out of here. To take you somewhere else, more comfortable. Anywhere but here. Unless someone interrupts you, making you take this elsewhere. Either way works.

You’re both panting from desire, his head moving back against yours, your foreheads touching together. He grabs the sides of your head with both his hands, while yours move around his waist, pulling him as close as possible. He’s going to finally kiss you, your lips almost touching each other’s, breathing one another’s exhale.

A loud knock on the door startles you and you jump in place. “Come on, man! Are you done yet?” The stranger smiles against your lips, pleased with his plan. He’s so ready to take you out of here, worship you like you deserve.

But the spell is broken. You come back to your senses. You’re in a dirty bathroom. With a total stranger. A handsome, funny, sexy stranger, but a stranger nonetheless. What are you doing? This is not you. This is not how you do things. You have two kids back home waiting for you. You try to shake the thought out of your mind. You are a woman, too. You have needs. Needs that this man can meet with ease. No, there are people outside, waiting to use the bathroom. How are you gonna get out of here? Everyone will know what you’ve done. What are you doing?

The man detects your stiffness, the change in your breathing. You’re starting to hyperventilate. “Hey, hey, are you ok?”.

Your brain is overwhelmed, you don’t know how to respond. The knocking on the door gets louder now, more insistent.

“Give me a goddamn minute!”, the man shouts behind his back. His attention returns to you, full of concern, talking to you like all the time in the world is yours, like nothing else matters. “What’s the matter, sweetheart? You wanna get out of here?”, his hands are still on the sides of your head, his eyes full of worry now.

“I- I need-” your breathing is getting harder and harder. “I’m sorry, I need to get out of here, I-” you push his hands away from your face.

He lets you, raising his hands in surrender. “Ok, ok darlin’, my truck is parked just outside, let me-”

“NO- No,” you don’t let him finish his thought, “I’ll leave on my own, I’m sorry, I can’t-” you just want to disappear, you know how you must sound and look but it’s out of your control.

“No, I didn’t mean it like that darlin’, I just wanna make sure you’re safe-”. But you’re not listening to what he’s saying to you, not really.

He wants to touch you again, hold you, make you feel safe. Protected. He wants you- no, needs you to know that it’s ok.

But he’s a stranger to you, so he resists the urge.

You walk away from him, unlock the door, open it forcefully and burst out of the bathroom, looking down. You don’t want to meet the eyes of the intruder outside the door. Any eye contact would make you feel vulnerable right now, exposed. With your head down you reach for your bag and jacket left on the stool you were sitting on, -what were you thinking, you could have been mugged- and you run to the exit door.

The man is right behind you, searching for you in the packed bar. You grab the handle, you open the door and you stand still for a moment turning your head to look at him one last time.

His eyes catch the door movement and his gaze locks with yours. His expression is sad and worried, not an ounce of anger or disapproval.

I don’t even know your name, you think with sadness.

He’s making a move to come after you but then you let yourself out of the bar. The stranger doesn’t have time but to whisper “I don’t even know your name..”

ONE WEEK LATER

You’re looking yourself in the mirror while you’re getting ready for dinner. Trish wants to introduce you to her cousins; although you and her are best friends, you never got to meet them. Maybe because you both lived out of Texas, before. She came back not so long ago, you followed to get your life back. Now that you’re living with her, she wants the four of you to hang out. She says they’re great guys. Joel and Tommy. Whatever.

You’re looking harder in the mirror now, searching for any sign to indicate what happened a few days ago at that god’s forsaken bar was real. A bruise, a bite, a redness, anything. But there’s nothing. Like he didn’t want to leave a trace. Like he was a figment of your imagination.

Half of you wants to forget about him, half of you is hanging on tight on every little detail you can recall of that night.

Of him.

His deep voice, the warmth of his eyes, his smart smile, the way he put your body on fire with minimum touch. You wish he would have fucked you hard and fast against the sink, before you had time to overthink, before you became a coward, to leave you with something more to remember him by.

You still feel the burn between your legs every time you think about him. And as many times as you tried to extinguish this fire inside you, with your fingers, or your pillow, or your vibrator, it just. Isn’t. Enough.

Just- get him out of your head, you force your mind. You don’t even know his name. You spilled your guts to him, almost fucked him and you don’t even got his name. Who does that?

Well, he didn’t get your name either, but obviously that was not the same. He looked like he knew what he was doing and if he does it that often, at the end of the day what does another name matter?

Joel is grabbing his wallet and cellphone off the console next to the door yelling to Tommy and Sarah, “Guys, you’re coming yet? We’re gonna be late, Trish is gonna be all over us, come on.”

Tommy and Sarah pause the movie they’re watching with an audible groan and emerge from the living room, putting their shoes on. “What is tonight about, again?” Tommy asks in boredom.

“Uh, not really sure, we’re gonna have dinner together and some lady friend of Trish is gonna be there, I think she’s letting her stay with her for a while.” Joel mutters.

“Oh, a lady friend,” Tommy insists, winking his eye to Sarah and she rolls her eyes to him. “Is she hot or what?”.

Joel glares at Tommy “Don’t know, don’t care Tommy, I think she’s got kids or something. Take the toolbox to the truck to fix the bathroom cabinet since we’re going.”

Tommy looks disappointed “Damn, not my cup of tea, then.”

“You and me both.” Joel sighs through his teeth. “Come on, let’s get this over with.”

You hear the doorbell ring and you check on the girls before you make your way downstairs. They’re asleep on their beds. You can finally relax. You hear Trish calling you, “Hey, babe, they’re here!” As you go down the stairs you see a handsome man with dark curls entering the hallway along with a young woman in her twenties.

“Heeeey, you’re here!!” Trish sounds so exited. “Hey cousin, it’s been a while!” Tommy responds, hugging her with one arm around her waist. Sarah takes her turn hugging her aunt in silence and with a warm smile.

Then the three of them turn to the sound of your feet on the stairs. “And that’s my friend I was telling you about!” Trish introduces you by name and you approach Tommy and Sarah to handshake them.

When you look at Tommy’s face from a closer distance he seems familiar to you in a strange way, but you don’t give it any more thought. He looks like someone who likes what he sees, judging by the flirty smile he gives you. “Hi, darlin’, nice to meet you!”, is his first response to you. You smile politely “ You, too!”

You turn your attention to the young lady then, Tommy’s eyes still linger a little too long for your liking. Not because he’s not easy on the eyes, far from it. You’re simply not ready for that. And you proved that to yourself last week. You let the most handsome stranger you’ve ever met, slip through your fingers. You didn’t even got his name.

Idiot.

Jesus Christ, not now, let him go, focus. “Hello Sarah, I’ve heard a lot about you, it’s nice to put a face to the stories!”.

Sarah laughs, glaring at Trish “I bet the stories are really funny! I only hope my aunt exposed herself, too, in the process!”

You give Sarah a one-sided smirk, looking at her conspiratorially, “Well, you know Trish, she’s never holding back!”, you all laugh vividly.

You already feel more relaxed, Tommy and Sarah seem so nice, easy going, it will be great to make new friends. Trish was right for wanting you to meet them so soon after you arrived here.

It brings an air of normalcy, it feels like, although slowly and fucking painfully, your life takes an actual.. shape. You’re here. You exist. You are being seen as a living human being. You are talked to, admired, cared for, building a circle of people in your life, each one with their own place and role in your heart. And that means you’re trying. You’re not giving up, you’re moving forward, for you, for your children most importantly. These thoughts create a warmth inside you, a sense of hope that everything’s going to be ok.

And then it happens.

His voice is the first thing you register as he makes his presence known. “Goddamnit Tommy, I asked you for one thing before we leave the house. One.”, he addresses his brother from a distance. “Of course I have to remember everything myself.”, he mutters to himself, shaking his head disapprovingly.

The hair on the back of your neck is rising. You could recognize his voice among thousands. But that couldn’t be right. It can’t be. There is no way the voice will match the face. So, you turn your head to the entrance.

First, you see his boots going up the stairs of the porch, next your eyes land on his lower and then upper body, fit thighs, covered in dark jeans, thin waist hugged by a black belt, broad torso clothed in a black t-shirt and a green flannel. You don’t consciously recognize what -or who- you see yet, but your heartbeat spikes and your breathing becomes quicker.

You look further up, his head is tilted down, he’s trying to put his car keys in his front jean pocket, the salt and pepper curls looking oddly familiar.

And then he raises his head.

It’s instant.

Your heart skips a beat, your breath catches on your throat, your mouth goes dry, you stomach clenches, your body feels on fire. Even your fingertips feel numb. Your mind floods you with memories of him.

His scent, his touch, the need he awakened inside you. His gaze locks with yours, like that night, stopping him in his tracks, right before the entrance of the house, both of you unable to look anywhere else. He keeps staring at your face, fearing that if he so much as roams his eyes to the rest of you, you’ll disappear.

You can’t quite read his expression, he looks- well he looks hot- but apart from that, he seems surprised, disturbed, almost.. pained?

Somewhere from behind you, you hear “Uuuuh, and this sunshine, is my brother, Joel.”

Joel.

#fanfic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal fandom #joel tlou #Joel #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x original character #joel miller x oc #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller angst #joel miller age gap #joel miller au #joel miller the last of us #joel miller fic #joel miller imagine #joel miller pedro pascal #joel miller series #joel miller story #joel the last of us #joel x reader #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction

[cod-dump]

Imagine how funny this shit would be if ghost's mom was scottish. Like- all the "english mactavish" is just simon being a (huge) little shit bc he understands what he's saying 100%. Ghost knows more scots gaelic than soap, soap would be livid. But also- si's ma moved to england (probably as a teen), met his dad, had him and tommy. Si's dad is a canon shitface so he was probably a real ass about her accent too. She wasn't allowed to use her scots slang or gaelic so her teaching simon was something just for them, one bit of defiance to the monster she married. It'd be very dear to simon. (He becomes gma mactavish's fave within seconds when he returns her gaelic greeting fluidly)

Your Mother’s Legacy

SoapGhost

___

He never liked the name ‘Riley’. It will always be his father’s name, not his. He was ‘Mr. Riley’ so when people refer to Ghost as such he cringes. He remembered sitting in Price’s office talking about it. He didn’t go there with any real purpose in mind, just to talk.

“I’ve been thinking about using my mother’s name.”

“‘Lieutenant Simon Osburn’. Has a ring to it.”

Ghost was deep into paperwork involving changing his name when Soap joined. Meeting a genuine Scot honestly excited Ghost. Growing up, when it was just Ghost and his mother, they would speak in Gaelic. She taught him slang while speaking in her real accent. Though Ghost remembered that accent being forced away by his father. His mother quickly picked up an English accent to keep him calm.

“Why did I marry such dirty hag who can’t even speak English!”

When Soap first rattled off some Scottish slang, Ghost don’t know what came over him.

“Speak English, MacTavish.”

Ghost hated how much he sounded like his father in that moment. He felt hot shame bubble up inside of him but Soap didn’t back down. He nagged him, pushed, kept speaking those ridiculous phrases that Ghost loved. Ghost gave him shit for it each time. But it turned from something his father would do to fond teasing that Soap admitted to liking one evening, nursing a beer.

“I thought you were just some piece of shite Brit. But now I don’t see that.”

Time blended together. One moment Ghost and Soap were arguing every second and the next they were laying in bed together, limbs tangled as they kept snoozing the alarm to give them more time to cuddle. One moment Ghost had maybe a couple pictures on his phone for work and next moment his camera roll was filled with pictures of Soap. Soap doing something silly, Soap doing something cute or sexy. Just Soap.

He became completely enamored with this man. Any time away from him was unbearable. He was gone for a week and returned to Soap waiting, welcomed with kisses and warm hugs. At some point people started to associate them as one person, ‘Lieutenant Sergeant Ghoap’. It was the stupidest name Ghost had ever heard but he couldn’t deny he had a fondness for it. Apparently they were the favorite couple on base. He doubted that.

“I wanna take ya home with me,” Soap muttered to him one evening in bed.

Ghost lifted his head from his chest, “What?”

“I wanna take ya home to Scotland with me. To meet my family.”

Ghost’s heart soared when Soap cupped his face, nothing but love in his eyes.

“Mo chridhe,” Soap mutters to him, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to his lips.

Ghost wanted to cry. His mother taught him some phrases, sweet things to call someone when he finally found the one. She would call him all kinds of sweet things, as well. He was her mo leanbh. Even well into his adult years, after Tommy and Beth had Joseph. She would greet him with a tight hug.

“Mo leanbh! I swear you get taller every day!”

Ghost long gave up the thought of calling someone his mo leannan after his family was taken from him. After he lost himself and became Ghost, burying Simon deep within. He gave it all up and admittedly forgotten a lot of what his mother taught him. But having Soap in his arms, kissing him and breaking down that wall where Ghost buried Simon and all his mother’s teachings… He was determined to learn again. But he couldn’t bring himself to ask Soap. Couldn’t bring himself to admit to knowing what Soap was saying and choosing to bully him.

Ghost spent three months learning what he could from the internet. He kept it all hidden from Soap, still unsure how to tell him. He knew he was overthinking it but he still was too anxious to just tell Soap. So he continued to practice until the day came that they would be flying out to Scotland. Soap caught Ghost pacing and surprised him with a hug.

“Don’t worry, babe. They’re going to love you. Even if you are a Brit.”

Ghost smiled at the joke as Soap kissed his cheek before leaving. Ghost groans when Soap was out of sight, pulling out his phone to check the email that he had received from Price a couple days ago.

“All your documents have been updated!”

Ghost sighs. This was drawing out far longer than what it should. He should’ve told Soap from the start but he didn’t. And now they were leaving for the airport to catch their flight. Price had an idea of what Ghost was doing, it didn’t take him long to catch Ghost bullying Soap for his Gaelic.

“You could’ve gone about this differently.”

“I’m already too far down this rabbit hole, John.”

Price had laughed at that and wished him luck. Ghost was one negative thought away from a panic attack the entire flight. But Soap kept his mind busy by talking about all the places he wanted to take him when they get to Scotland. He talked about his family, his parents, his sisters, his grandmother.

“My gran speaks Gaelic more than she does English.”

Ghost nods, “Don’t act surprised?”

“Don’t act surprised. And none of your ‘speak English’ comments. She may be old but she’ll put you in your place real quick!”

Ghost nods, panic bubbling up the rest of the flight. He should’ve said something ages ago. But after the ‘speak English’ comments, would Soap had even believed him? The plane landed and Ghost was a fidgeting mess as they got their rental car and Soap drove them to his hometown. He was excitedly pointing almost the entire drive, a grin never leaving his face. When the house came into view Ghost had to take a deep breath and prepare himself.

The car was swarmed by Soap’s sisters who hugged their brother. Soap directed their attention at Ghost and he, too, was pulled into multiple hugs. He never expected to be welcomed so quickly. Ghost even teared up when they immediately called him ‘brother’ and pulled him into the house with Soap in tow. Soap’s mother was the next to greet them. She, of course, grabbed Soap first and hugged him tight. She gave him a big kiss. Then she saw Ghost.

“Look at ya! Yer more handsome than the pictures!”

Ghost was pulled into an awkward hug due to the height difference (she was shorter than Soap). But the warmth from it made him melt. She was no way near similar to his own mother in appearance. She was shorter, not as thin, darker skin— Overall she appeared much healthier than his mother. But her voice… the accent, the adoration in it. It brought him back to those days when Tommy was running the streets and his father was on another binge. Just him and his mother.

They spent a lot of time in the kitchen. The vent behind the fridge is where his mother would hide photos and other personal items that Mr. Riley would’ve destroyed if he found them. She would talk to him Gaelic, and he would parrot back what he heard. She would smile and gently correct him if he made a mistake. Those times in the kitchen was the only time peaceful time they both had in that house. The only time his mother smiled without fear and was her true self. But then Mr. Riley would come home and she would shrivel up.

“Come along, dear! Isaiah! Come in here!”

Soap’s father was nothing like Soap in appearance. But that attitude was definitely something Ghost saw in Soap. He was given a beer and directed into the family room. And there was Soap’s grandmother. She was humming a song that Soap waited until was over before he sat next to her and gave her a hug. She eagerly hugged her grandson. And she started talking to him in Gaelic.

“Bha mi gad ionndrainn, mo shionnach beag!” (I missed you, my little fox.)

“I missed ya, too, Gran.”

Soap looked over at Ghost and waved him over. Ghost took a big swig of his beer, earning a laugh from Soap’s father, before walking over. The old woman looked at him with a thoughtful look. She studied him for a moment before smiling.

“Halo, òganach. Ye must be my grandson’s man.”

“Madainn mhath dhut.” (Good morning to you.)

Soap’s face instantly went into pure shock. He stared at Ghost like he said he killed god as his grandmother’s face lit up in pure delight.

“Bha dragh orm gun robh am madadh-ruadh beag a’ toirt dhachaigh Breatannach! Ach tha mi faicinn gun tug e deagh Albannach leis!” (I was worried that the little fox was bringing home a Brit! But I see he brought a good Scotsman with him!)

Ghost breathed out as Soap’s father wrapped his arm around his shoulder, “Aye! Ye speak Gaelic better than my son!”

Ghost blushes, looking at Soap who was still in shock. His jaw hung open and Ghost could see the gears turning. Ghost was pulled onto a couch by Soap’s mother as his father sits next to Soap.

“Cò a theagaisg thu?” (Who taught you?”

“My mother. She was a proper Scotswoman.”

Ghost didn’t know how but Soap managed to look even more shocked when he said that. Ghost was worried his face was going to get stuck like that if he kept it up.

“Yer mother taught ya well!”

“Ye have ta forgive us for judging. The name Simon Riley isn’t quite scream Scot.”

Ghost laughs, “I actually changed it. Took my mother’s name. Simon Osburn.”

Ghost was deeply concerned by Soap by this point. His father noticed he went too long without saying anything and elbowed him in the ribs without even looking at him.

“John, yer lucky you found yerself a Scot. Ah was questionin’ ya when ye said he was a Brit.”

Soap makes an unintelligible noise, his face screaming like he was looking at Ghost for the first time at a new angle. Ghost was sweating due to the intensity of Soap’s gaze. He couldn’t pick up any anger from him, thankfully. But he still feared what the man was going to say when he finally snapped out of his shock. They spent several hours talking, Soap’s family digging into Ghost to learn what they could about him.

He gave them the censored version of his life story and eventually Soap’s mother and grandmother got up to go start dinner. Soap’s father quickly followed them, leaving Ghost and Soap with his sisters.

“Got yerself a real keeper, John.”

Soap finally looks away from Ghost and he felt like he could finally breathe.

“Yea… Love, let’s go settle in our room.”

Ghost tenses but he follows. Once they were upstairs and as soon as the door closed Soap turned to Ghost.

“What. The. Fuck?! Since when do you know Gaelic?! And since when is your mother Scottish?!”

Ghost stutters, “Since my whole life?”

Soap gaps, waving his hands around but no words came out of his mouth. Ghost breathes out. Two of the things he was worried about Soap reacting to were now out there. And Ghost wasn’t sure how Soap was taking this considering this was in the middle of ‘what the actual fuck how dare you’ and ‘oh, okay’.

“You, since we’ve first met, have been telling me—“

Ghost backed away as Soap spaced out his words.

“To speak fucking English. This whole fucking time—“

“Baby-“

“WHEN YOU ALSO DIDN’T SPEAK ENGLISH?!”

Ghost gulps, realizing this was dead on ‘what the actual fuck how dare you’. Ghost is shoved back onto the bed and Soap was on him. Ghost was surprised by the kiss Soap captured him in. It took his breath and he gasped for air when Soap pulled away.

“You fuck! You always been a nyaff! Always! But this- Oh oh- THIS! This upgrades ya, feartie dobber! How dare ya keep this from me!”

“Love-“

“Haud yer weesht!”

“Baby-“

Soap covers his mouth, glaring down at him, “Shut yer pus! Ah’m tired of hearin’ ya talk!”

Ghost couldn’t help but adore Soap’s accent as it thickened in his rage. He moves Soap’s hand off his mouth.

“Mo leannan.“

Soap freezes above him. The rage almost instantly melted away and Soap swallows hard. He cups Ghost’s face, Ghost’s hand going to the back of his head.

“Tha gaol agam ort.” (I love you.)

Soap chokes out a sob, “Tha gaol agam ort cuideachd.” (I love you, too.)

Soap kisses him, this time much softer. Ghost wraps his arms around Soap’s shoulders, not wanting the man to have even a opportunity to leave. Though he knows that he wouldn’t. Soap pulls away, smiling broadly.

“I was worried when I fell for you. Glad to see that my heart found me a Scot rather than a Brit.”

Ghost laughs, Soap kissing his neck, “Never did like the English side. To be honest the only good Brits I’ve ever met are Price and Gaz. Everyone else is on thin ice.”

Soap laughs against Ghost’s neck.

“Dhia, I love you.”

They lay there, enjoying each other’s warmth and presence. Soap breaks the silence after maybe ten minutes.

“Osburn, huh?”

“Mhmm.”

“I like that… ‘John Osburn’ has a ring to it.”

Ghost grins, eyes looking to his bag where the ring he’s been hiding for a couple weeks lays hidden.

“Yea… it does.”

#call of duty #cod mwii #modern warfare ii #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #soapghost #ghostsoap #ask #thanks for the ask <3 #fic #fanfic

[katyswrites]

don't call me 'baby'

PART 2 | SERIES

Pairing: Steve Harrington/fem!reader

Warnings: Sugardaddy!Steve, swearing, alcohol use, smoking, references to vomit/drinking too much, age gap

Wordcount: 4.4k

A sugar daddy modern AU, a whirlwind summer romance in Italy, and two people from completely different walks of life, somehow finding each other in one of the most beautiful cities in the world. But, what will happen when summer ends?

PART 2 | is it chill that you're in my head?

The next few weeks passed in a blur. With the semester officially wrapped, you threw yourself into working - early morning shifts at the coffee shop, then weekend nights Enoteca Bruni, slinging cocktails and lighting cigars, smiling prettily for high-end customers and their massive wallets. Fridays were the worst - working a double, swapping out your apron for a cocktail dress as you went from one job to the other, often fixing your hair and doing your makeup on the bus ride in between. 

It had been a bit of a culture shock, moving out to Rome. You had never envisioned moving abroad, but the offer had come from AUR with a great scholarship; it involved getting the Hell out of your parents’ house, working towards a degree, and starting a new life in Rome. Not knowing the language had been the hardest - you had spent nearly your entire first year enrolled in Italian classes, taking time to read newspapers, watch local television, and do everything you could to immerse yourself in the language. It wasn’t second-nature, exactly, but you found yourself switching from English to Italian easily now, thankfully. It was probably what landed you the job at Enoteca - they usually only took people with more restaurant experience (or the prettiest, you would later realize). But, an American girl, who spoke fluent Italian? It had made you invaluable, considering how many business executives and high-profile people from around the world dined there. 

That was probably why the experience a few weeks ago hadn’t shaken you all too much; you had become used to groups like that, men who were used to getting what they wanted, whenever they wanted. Still, when you allowed your mind to wander, or you had a moment or two to rest, you found yourself thinking of Steve Harrington.

It was rarely on purpose - the vision of the man encroached on your mind when you least expected, sticking and seeping through your brain like syrup. You had felt guilty about the money, initially - while some kind (and usually American) customers tipped, it wasn’t common on this side of the world. And, moreover, it had been far more than what was anywhere near reasonable, no matter how expensive their bill ended up being. Was he hitting on you? That wouldn’t have been the first time - plenty of pushy, or downright pervy customers had insisted on tipping you, slipping you a phone number with the cash. But, he hadn’t done that - there wasn’t any contact information, not even a return address. And, he didn’t seem like that - he could’ve made more of a move on you that night in the car, if he really wanted. It was confusing, more than anything - no matter how you had tried to rationalize it, the generous gesture was simply bizarre. That was probably why you found yourself thinking of him on occasion - why else would you be?

It was the last weekend of May, when it happened. If you had been back in the States, you supposed it would’ve been a long holiday weekend, thanks to Memorial Day. But here, it was just another Friday night. And, a rare blessing - you actually had the night off. Well, you had arranged for the night off. It had been a terrible week, beyond exhausting. When you had come home, last night, Robin had taken one look at you, and shook her head.

“No,” she said firmly.

“Huh?” you asked, plopping down in a kitchen chair.

“You need to take a night off, you’re miserable,” she said, sitting herself across from you.

“I need to work,” you explained. “In case you forgot, we need to pay rent.”

“Yeah,” Robin agreed. “But, you know… last I checked, a certain richy-rich business bro took care of that -”

“That cash is only gonna last so long, Robs.”

“Don’t you get it? That was his way of telling you to take a break - they love you at the restaurant. You never miss, just call out - and then we can go out tomorrow, and actually have fun, for once.”

You opened your mouth to protest, then stopped yourself - you carefully considered what your friend was proposing. The two of you rarely took time to have fun anymore - Robin once joked that you were both old ladies already, working all day and tucked in bed early most nights. You and her were often rolling coins for groceries, and you had treated yourselves to an actual sitdown dinner next week thanks to Steve’s money - it had felt extravagant, but nice. 

Buy yourself something nice, Steve’s note had said.

“Yeah, okay,” you conceded. “Let’s go out tomorrow, yeah?”

That was how you found yourself out that night, stuffed into your favorite jeans and flashy top, face made-up and six drinks deep at some nightclub, one of Robin’s favorite haunts from college. The air was hazy, the music loud, and you found yourself letting go, as best as you could.

Robin made her way through the crowd to you, shots in-hand, despite your earlier protests.

“Robs - no -”

“C’mon, live a little!” she shouted. “And don’t worry, it’s not tequila - I know how you get with tequila.”

You rolled your eyes, toasting her as you downed the shot, the liquor burning your tongue and throat as it went down. Robin grinned, pressing herself close to you as she asked, “Are ya having fun?”

You nodded, smiling. 

“Yeah, actually - I am,” you admitted. “But - I’ve got to get some air,” you said, pulling your pack of cigarettes out of your pocket and waving them.

Robin groaned.

“Those’ll kill you, you know,” she shouted as you headed for the door.

“We can only hope!” you sent back playfully over your shoulder.

You made your way through sweaty bodies and dodged the splashes of drinks, forcing your way out into the cooler night. 

The summer was in its infancy, the evenings still cool enough to raise goosebumps on the skin, to remind you that spring wasn’t quite done yet. It was a welcome change, the bar inside nearly suffocating with the pure volume of people. And more importantly, outside, it’s quiet. Yes, it’s still a city, the din of cars and motorbikes combining with the sounds of music and laughter from bars and restaurants, the cacophony of nightlife still a relief from what you just came from inside.

A few other smokers hung around you, alone and in groups, chatting and flicking ash onto the pavement. You leaned against the brick wall of the building, sighing and inhaling deeply. You let the night air fill your lungs, your head a bit fuzzy from the alcohol coursing through you. 

You fish a cigarette out of the carton, placing it between your lips before reaching into your pocket for a lighter - oh, no.

Your lighter was still in your purse. Because, you almost always have your purse, but because you were going out, you had just stuck some cash and your ID in the back of your phone, and left. Christ, you were out of practice. You slumped, and glanced around, only to realize a lot of people had headed back inside. You spotted a woman about ten feet away, exhaling smoke. You debated walking over and asking for a light - she probably wouldn’t have a problem with that, and she was probably done soon -

“Need a light?” a voice asked.

A godsend.

You turned to where it was coming from, and froze in place.

There he was, standing just a few feet from you. Steve wore a warm smirk and a fitted t-shirt and jeans, nearly unrecognizable from the man in the suit you had met a few weeks ago. His hair was still done immaculately, but he stood casually, hands shoved in his pockets as he leaned against the wall. In the dim streetlights, he could’ve been a stranger, just a boy on the sidewalk with a kind offer and a smile. Still, he wore nice loafers and a flashy watch, and though you didn’t know much about clothes, you imagine they cost more than most of your closet combined.

You couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him, unable to believe your luck. And, it doesn’t escape you, the irony of the reversed roles, of you being stuck for a light out in the night.

“If you’ve got one,” you replied, feigning a casual air.

“Well, I think I owe you the favor,” he said, reaching into his pocket until he produced a lighter. He held it up, and you leaned in close, letting him flick it on and light the cigarette until the end was a hot amber. You took a long drag, letting the smoke fill your lungs and exhaling, immediately relaxing.

You didn’t take your eyes off of the man next to you, still as boyishly handsome as you remembered. He was visibly more relaxed than the last time you saw him, and you couldn’t help but wonder… was he here alone?

“Thanks,” you said, pressing your foot into the wall to balance yourself. 

“Of course,” he replied, pulling his own cigarette out and placing it in his mouth. Still hand-rolled, you noted.

“Not just for that,” you said, measuring your words carefully. “For… for the other thing, too.”

He didn’t respond, at first. He just stared straight ahead, blowing smoke out into the night air.

“Don’t mention it,” he said, kicking at the ground with his toe.

“No, I should - I mean, that was… it was really generous. And, you really shouldn’t have.”

He looked at you then, face soft as he smiled.

“Yes, I should’ve. Because I wanted to. Did you do what I asked?”

You paused, confused. “What?”

“Did you buy yourself something nice?”

You suddenly felt your face heat, and it took you a moment to find the words.

“I - well, sort of. I mean, to be honest, I used a lot of it to pay this month’s rent. But…I took my roommate out to a nice dinner. And, there’s still a bit left, so I guess we’re using it now, for drinks and stuff tonight.”

He perked up at that, and smiled a little wider.

“Good,” he said. “I mean, I’m glad you were able to treat yourself.”

“It let me take the night off, for once,” you admitted.

“How many nights do you work there?” he asked curiously.

“Well, only four - Thursday through Sunday. But, I work 5 days a week at a coffee shop - you know Caffè Tazza, on Via Pave?”

He furrowed his brow, then nodded slowly.

“I think I’ve passed it on my way to work, yeah - not sure I’ve ever gone in.”

“Yeah, well, I work there. Enteco is just a side gig - it pays better. Well, slightly.”

You stopped yourself, then, suddenly feeling small - it hadn’t escaped you that the money Steve had sent you was probably a drop in the bucket, a negligible amount for him. You couldn’t even imagine what his bank account looked like, but from what little you knew about him, you knew it would probably make you fall to your knees. 

“But, it doesn’t matter - I needed a break, I don’t go out much, so here I am.”

He just nodded again, taking another drag. 

“Are you here with anyone?” he asked.

You nodded, glancing at the door behind you.

“Yeah - my roommate, Robin… you?”

You asked it carefully, glancing at him briefly. He turned to look at you again, and you could tell he was fighting a smile.

“No,” he said. “I’m here alone.”

You don’t know what it was - it was probably a mix of the alcohol, a long week, the buzz of the late night air, or the fact that both of you had subconsciously inched yourselves closer to each other during the last few minutes - you could feel the heat radiating off of him, hear his shallow breaths. But, you felt bold, bolder than usual.

“Did you plan on keeping it that way?” you asked quietly.

His eyes widened, and you saw him visibly freeze at your words.

“Not necessarily,” he admitted, voice soft and low.

Then, you pushed yourself up on your toes, and pulled him by the collar of his t-shirt, bringing his lips down to yours.

He tensed for a moment under your touch, then relaxed, leaning into the kiss. His lips moved with yours, softer than you had imagined. He tasted like cigarettes and scotch, and smells like cologne, the good kind. Your cigarette fell from your fingers and somewhere into the pavement, freeing your hand to snake up and press gently at the nape of his neck.

It was a bit messy, and not too sophisticated - if you had to guess, he was probably a bit drunk too, though maybe not as much as you. But you were kissing Steve Harrington, a man who was still practically a stranger, and he was kissing you back. And God, he was a good kisser. He pulled you closer, pressing his hands to the small of your back as you breathed into his mouth. And, for just a moment, it felt like you were the only two people in the whole city.

Perhaps it was a few seconds or an hour - most likely, it was somewhere in between. But eventually, you both pulled away for air, chests heaving, hearts racing.

He was looking at you through the dim streetlight, eyes wide. There was something there in his face - surprise, yes, but something else too… fondness? Excitement? 

“I,” you started, “um -”

“Yeah,” he said, chuckling under his breath.

A moment passed, and suddenly, there was an air of awkwardness that settled between you both. Did you misread that? Did he want you to kiss him? Well, he had kissed you back… but would he do it again?

He opened his mouth and took a step toward you to say something, but then you heard a familiar voice come from behind you, calling your name. You turn around, confused.

“I - Robin?”

Your friend stumbled out of the bar’s entrance, hand pressed to her forehead.

“Hey - I… I think I drank too much,” she slurred, making her way toward you.

“You don’t say?” you laughed, reaching out for her outstretched hand. She took it, face screwed up in pain as she squinted in the light illuminating the sidewalk.

“I think - hey, whose this?” she asked, standing up a bit straighter with a renewed interest.

You glanced back at Steve, who had taken a few steps back, his hands shoved into his pockets. He offered a small smile.

“Oh, um - this is, uh -”

“I’m Steve,” he finished, meeting Robin’s eyes over your shoulder. “Nice to meet you.”

“Steve? Who -” then, her eyes widened, and a cheeky grin spread on her face.

“Oh - Steve. Like, Steve Steve?”

You felt your face heat, and pointedly ignored the way Steve’s eyes were burning into the back of your head.

“Um, yeah - it was totally random, but we ran into each other out here and… we were… catching up.”

“Right,” Robin said, looking at you knowingly. “Nice to meet ya,” she said, casting her eyes to where Steve stood behind you.

Steve nodded, fighting a grin as he looked at the pair of you.

“Um, Robin is my roommate,” you explained to him. “But, from the looks of it… it looks like we need to get home. I’ll call us a taxi, yeah?”

“Can’t,” Robin groaned, leaning into your side. “I’m gonna throw up in it.”

You sighed, pinching your temples.

“Yeah, okay, well - if you do that, it’ll be like, hundreds of Euros, so… maybe you’ve just gotta make yourself vomit first, get it out of the way -”

Robin groaned into your shoulder at the thought, and you sighed again. It was then that Steve spoke up.

“Well, I can call my car to take you ladies home… if you want.”

You felt your face flush with embarrassment again, casting your eyes between Steve and Robin, hesitant.

“Oh, no - we couldn’t possibly ask -”

“You didn’t ask,” Steve said simply. “I offered. I insist, actually - I want you two to get home safely.”

You felt Robin lean further into you, and thought for a moment about your options - the last thing you needed was to rack up a fee and piss off a taxi driver.

“Well - I don’t want her to vomit in your car, either -”

Steve shook his head, waving you off.

“Please - don’t worry about that. There’s a garbage can and bags in the back, so she can use that. But, worst-case, I can send it to be cleaned after. I promise, it’s fine.”

You met his eyes, and all you saw was sincerity - he was being genuine, from what you could tell. Right then, you decided to surrender.

“I - yeah, okay. That’d be really great, if you could.”

He nodded, pulling his phone out of his pocket and making a quick phone call. You did your best to straighten Robin up, but she just clung to you, swaying on her feet. Great.

“My driver will be here in a few minutes,” Steve said. “So, no worries - I gave him your address for a stop on the way home.”

“You remember my address?”

He shrugged, and stared straight at the ground. If you didn’t know any better, you could swear he was blushing. 

“Well - yes. I mean, I had to send you the letter not too long ago… write it out, all that.”

“Right,” you said, opting to stare out ahead at the street. A few passersby stumbled past you, in various stages of drunk and cheery, mopeds and cars speeding down the cobblestone streets.

“Thank you,” you added, just a bit more softly. “I - you really didn’t have to do this.”

You knew how this probably looked - two drunk girls, hardly adults, partying too hard and threatening to throw up in the street. You suddenly became self-conscious of your tight ripped jeans, your cropped top, the fact that you were probably just a bit too drunk and sweaty. You were an idiot for thinking he was flirting with you - he was just being nice.

“Don’t worry about it,” he replied. “I was getting ready to go home soon, anyway. If you don’t mind me riding along, that is.”

You chuckled. “If I mind? It’s your car - of course you can come along -”

“Yeah, okay,” he said swiftly. “I just didn’t want to make you or your friend uncomfortable - Robin, right?”

You nodded. “Yeah - though, I don’t think she even knows where she is right now, so you’re in the clear.”

That earned a laugh from him - a real one. You hadn’t even thought it was that funny, but he acted as if it was the best joke he’d ever heard. You felt pride surge within you, and immediately pushed it down - that can’t happen, not right now.

The car arrived a few minutes later, and the drive home was mostly silent - Robin cradled a small garbage can, likely only meant for small debris like tissues, gum, water bottles - it only made your humiliation sink in further, feeling like a fool for even being in this situation. If Steve minded, he gave no indication - he sat up front with his driver, the same man from the other night. You sat in the back with Robin, keeping an eye on her in case the worst happened. By some miracle, it didn’t; she kept it down the whole ride, only occasionally groaning when the car went over a bump.

When you pulled up to your apartment, you felt a sense of deja vu - the same place, same time of night, with similar company. And, knowing how tonight went, it would probably be the last time.

After you had assured that Robin was out of the car and able to hold herself up on the sidewalk, you turned back to see that Steve had lowered the passenger window. He smiled as he looked up at you, and you once again realized just how handsome he really was. It was ridiculous, really.

“Um - thank you. Seriously - this was a huge help.”

“Of course,” he replied, leaning out of the window slightly. “Just make sure she’s okay, yeah?”

You glanced back at where Robin was sitting on your building’s doorstep, holding her head in her hands.

“I will - she’s going to be paying for it in the morning though.”

“I don’t doubt it,” he laughed, shaking his head.

You stood there for a moment, just looking at one another - the night was quieter here, just on the outskirts of the main part of the city. The silence was thick and heavy, and million unanswered questions between you two - perhaps they would never be answered.

“Right, well - I’m going to go in, I guess. I’ve got a shift tomorrow afternoon, anyways.”

“Yeah, okay - well, goodnight,” he said softly.

“Goodnight, Steve Harrington,” you whispered.

When you watched as the car peeled from the sidewalk and drove away, you couldn’t help but feel empty - you loved Robin to death, but she was going to pay for this, you decided. That thought really only lasted a moment - she didn’t actually do anything wrong, and she had taken care of you while you were drunk and stupid more times than you could count. Besides, it wasn’t like anything more was going to happen with Steve. You knew this for one reason - upon further examination, that look he had given you after the kiss… it wasn’t surprise, excitement, or any of the above. No - it was fear.

Still, that night, after Robin was put to bed with ibuprofen and a glass of water, you stared at your ceiling and thought of Steve. You thought of the way his voice sounded when it got low, the way he smelled when he was close enough, the way his lips tasted - and you didn’t sleep well at all, dwelling on what could have been.

*****

“Okay! Un caffè e due cappuccini!” you called out, placing the cups and saucers on the counter. The customers came up and grabbed them, knocking the coffees back and heading out, leaving a few coins behind. You were constantly on the move, Caffè Tazza beyond busy thanks to it being a Saturday. It had always fascinated you, how Italians took their coffee; your previous experience at Starbucks back in the States had proved nearly useless, considering that “to-go” coffee hardly existed here. Normally, you didn’t mind how fast-paced it was. But normally, you weren’t hungover. 

You had been in far better shape than Robin this morning, who could hardly get out of bed. Initially, you had actually felt fine. But, after a few hours on your feet, a headache was setting in, and you had a feeling it was here to stay.

The line of customers was long enough that you hardly paid any mind to who was coming in, set of pouring coffee and steaming milk, taking used espresso cups to wash in the back. That was why you didn’t see him come in, or hear him place his order at the register. No, it wasn’t until you were putting the small cup of espresso on the counter that you saw him, face-to-face.

“I - Steve?” you cried, startled. 

You thought maybe it was a dream, and you were actually still in the middle of your fitful sleep from last night. But he was there, clear as day, sporting a white button-up with sunglasses pushed on top of his head.

“Hey there,” he said, flashing a smile.

“What - what’re you doing here?”

He glanced briefly around the coffee shop, shrugging.

“You know - I was in the neighborhood.”

You raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. 

“You were in the neighborhood?”

He just took the coffee off of the counter and knocked it back, grinning as he returned the empty cup. You tried not to look at the way his Adam’s apple bobbed, or the freckles dotting his neck, but it was nearly impossible, given how close he was, how he -

“You caught me,” he admitted. “You told me last night how you worked here… and that you had a shift today… so I figured I’d swing by.”

You felt your stomach flip, because he actually remembered, and came to see you. You gulped, shoving your hands in the pockets of your apron.

“You… you came here to see me?”

It was then that his smile faltered a bit, and he nodded. He was shifting on his feet, not exactly meeting your eye - whatever confidence and charm he had been exuding when he had arrived was quickly fading. In fact, he looked close to terrified, even though he was the one who came here.

“I - yeah, I did. I was just thinking a lot, after last night… about you, and how you - well, when do you get off? Or, have a break?”

You cocked an eyebrow, cautiously curious. Was he going to ask you out? Or, more importantly, would you say yes if he did?

“Um, I have a lunch break in a bit… and then I get off at 6. Why?”

He bit his lip, shifting on his feet again.

“Right, okay - do you want to meet here, after you get off?”

You felt your stomach turn again, bubbling a bit. Still, you tried not to get your hopes up, and measured your response carefully.

“Sure… can I ask why? Like, are you asking me out, or what?”

You said it bluntly, because the last thing you want is a guessing game right now. He gulped at that, and shook his head. You felt your heart sink just a bit, and immediately cursed yourself inwardly.

“Well, no, not exactly - but I do have something I want to talk to you about. Something that I think can help both of us, if you’re interested.”

Before you could ask anything else, he was nodding curtly, and out the door. Then it was just you, a line of customers, and what would probably be the longest 4 hours of your life.

What the Hell does he want to talk about? you wondered.

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#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington/reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington/fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x reader fluff #modern steve harrington #steve harrington au #sugar daddy fic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #don't call me baby #don't call me baby fic #dcmb fic

[anodyne-sunflower]

I love the dynamic I've made between my recent male character (half elf oathbreaker) and Astarion so, I'm writing their story for myself ha. Just a little piece I'm working on, will post to Ao3 when done, hopefully.

He had a plan. A nice, simple plan.

And his plans usually tend to go his way. There's no fuss, no kinks in the threads of it...Astarion is just that well-versed in following through with them. Of course, it helps when your life depends on executing them with perfection, but then...what's his excuse for them falling apart now?

"Ow!" Astarion flinches back from a slight knock to his forehead, rubbing the area even though it really didn't hurt him all that much, given how gentle the flick actually was.

"Pay attention."

"You little--"

"Well, wouldn't need to resort to violent measures if you actually paid attention to me."

Astarion wants to say he always pays attention to him, that's the damned problem. Instead, he opts for a scowl, rolling his eyes at his current lover, because involving the theatrics was more fun (and safe) than being vulnerable.

Or admitting the truth. Which he has unfortunately come to accept--only to himself, of course. He wasn't that smitten...yet.

"I am paying attention."

"Then repeat what I just said."

"I--," a sigh, long and very drawn out because he was caught deep inside his thoughts just seconds ago. No one can blame him, he was dealing with a very life-altering fact at the moment. One that involved a very tall man, with cute half-point ears and all the build of a leaned, muscled human. Astarion kind of hates the man's parents for making him. What in the nine hells were they thinking creating such a divine mix of traits? Now he remembers using such a line on him months ago, when all were fast asleep in their camp and Astarion was craving his touch more than he cared to admit.

It's as if the gods made you just to ruin me.

It was a silly little game then, where words were just that--words, and any form of pleasure he took from him was strictly for transactional purposes. At least, to his knowledge and even that turned out to be quite the lie towards himself.

"Ow--gods dammit! Stop that." Astarion pouts now, though he hopes it still holds a menacing sneer to it. Judging by the snort of amusement thrown his way, however, he fears not.

"You're doing it again."

"Ugh, gods below--what?" It comes out frustrated, desperate even, because he's too busy musing over a man who is too pretty to pay attention to. That kind of beauty only begs for daydreaming, not reality. He'd apologize for such a vain display of thought but...well, look at him. Anyone would, and have much to his chagrin, stop for a moment to let their imagination run wild.

"That thing where you get this far off look and then proceed to ignore me." It isn't spiteful, more playful and half-amused. Of course, the idiot doesn't take offense to being ignored. He's too damn nice, too easy-going, too...annoyingly perfect. "Astarion, I swear to all the gods--"

Astarion sees it before he gets the chance to flick his forehead again, dodging at the last second and returning the favor twice over with a soft nip to his jawline. Sometimes he's quite content with the little bit of speed and reflex his unfortunate gift has given him.

"Little shit." Kye rubs the area, the site reddening from the trauma but nowhere near deep enough to draw blood. Astarion would never do so when squabbling, it'd be a waste.

#astarion #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #my ocs #astarion x tav #tav x astarion #astarion x male tav #astarion fic #they're my 2 idiots #in love #like in love love #and my kye is a little shit about it #in a sweet way okay #ignore me #i love this game #its given me new things to write about and i love that #i was wasting away with no muses before

[vvalengogh]

SPILL THE LORE

ANON I AM SO GLAD YOU ASKED. I AM SITTING YOU DOWN AND SITTING ACROSS FROM YOU.

OKAY SO. the priest dogman: his full name is wolf von bluth, though he insists people just call him “von” rather than his first name. he’s an old demon, a hellhound to be exact, who used to be a human back in the 1850’s and was formerly known as nikolai vasiliev-sovetsky, then. able to shift between both hound and human forms; he terrorizes people in many ways throughout the centuries, his most recent method being that of disguising himself as a priest. he finds religious people to be easier to manipulate, and thus, pushing them to sin and eventual, large scale crimes that leaves the town he’s in in a panic.

authorities are, of course, quick to get on the case and determine there might be a serial killer on the loose but nothing concrete on the killer’s identity because all victims so far appear as if no one had actually killed them. and this is where the second player of the story comes in: having recently gotten his degree in criminology and given an opportunity to work under the wing of a to-be-named detective, kind-hearted but slightly odd oliver jr. wright is tasked with investigation. he’s an upcoming bright man sorta type, and because the elder authorities couldn’t piece together the puzzle thanks to von being a tricky little demon, they figured they needed a fresh pair of eyes and a new mind on the field.

this was both a good thing and a bad thing for everyone involved. while authorities interrogated everyone who knew the murder victims even just a little bit, von was always marked off without real suspicion. oliver, however, felt that something was off about von. his visits to von were professional at first, asking him about the murder victims and von would simply manage worm his way out of concrete suspicion.

regardless, despite still doubting von was entirely 100% innocent he started to turn to him for advice as the pressure to solve the murders built. von offered him shelter, care and affection in the form of friendship.

a fourth victim pops up, and this one’s murder is a little different from the other two. this one is sloppier, and not made to look like someone didn’t kill them. a couple of montbs went by like this, each day starting to feel more stressed and worse. this is where i still need to figure out the details but basically: the last two victims were sloppy murders on purpose. a man was murdered, and some form of evidence left behind that was groundbreaking as prior, there was nothing left behind which upped the weird factor on the cases. the last victim, this husband’s wife, who is murdered roughly a week or so later, is shot outside the bar and the killer is caught on camera.

the killer is indeed oliver: he pulled the trigger, and he is quickly under arrest by the man who was responsible for him. but he swears up and down that he didn’t kill her. the theory they have on him is that he on purpose went into the field of criminology to cover up his crimes, thus the lack of evidence. he is soon looked at for not only the murder of this lady’s husband, but the others that have happened over the last few months.

the truth is: he did commit those last two murders, but the first three were von’s doing. due to the nature of oliver being more gullible and kind hearted, welcoming von into his life, made him more susceptible to his influence: aka possession. von took great interest in oliver, something about him was special in the manner that oliver seemed to crave the approval and kindness of a parental figure and von noticed he seemed to fill that role for him. so, he was able to quite literally pull the wool over his eyes and send him off to do his bidding for a short time.

the only reason he did this was as a means to ostracize him. the other three victims were part of something else entirely; some messy situation von just wanted to stick his nose in. in the end, they played no part to the bigger picture. this lady and her husband were just causalities for von along the way.

well, one thing leads to another, von entirely disappears off oliver radar for that time while he’s preoccupied trying to prove his innocence despite the fact that his gun was connected to the bullet that killed the lady. the detective who was watching over him wants to believe he didn’t do it, that there’s something else afoot here, and brings him back to the agency against all better judgement so he can try and look at evidence to build a case. no matter how illegal that was, he wanted to try and see what was up.

one thing leads to another and oliver blacks out; it’s like a dream, where von talks to him and reveals to him all of what’s gone up until now. and when he wakes up, the building is on fire, his boss is dead, and von is cradling his dying, broken body.

“there is only one way i can save you, oliver,” von tells him. “god doesn’t care if you die, but i do, so here i offer you survival under one condition.”

“that is?” oliver weakly responds.

“you are to be bound to me for the rest of time,” he explains. “you will have freedom, but you will work for me. simply do as i say; and you will be just fine.”

and oliver is far too disoriented to really think about that. he’d rather be dead than help the man who ruined his life; but in the embrace of someone who seemingly cares for his well being, he agrees, and essentially sells his soul to von.

and that’s that; oliver disappears from the public and he’s framed as a serial killer. von remains within the public eye, completely free of his crimes. oliver lives with him, does von’s bidding as his proxy. basically, he either kills or finds people for von sorta deal. tracks them down, all that fun stuff.

the two of them overall very much hate each other but oliver has this dependent nature on von. again, he sought for someone’s approval and he found it in von and that costed him literally everything. von, surprisingly, does care a little bit for oliver. they would still very much kill each other if they could tho ❤️

#corvid chatter #anon #answered asks #sorry if this seems choppy(?) i am sleepy but oh my god these two are spinning in my head AAAA #long post #not fallout #i need to fill in some gaps here and there but this is what leads them to the present day

[beautifulhigh]

Life, believe, is not a dream, so dark as sages say (17k, AO3 link)

Four people inside the bank: codenames but no attempts to hide their faces and willing to execute people in front of a crowd of witnesses. Clearly rehearsed actions and an obvious plan which didn't involve anything you would expect from people holding up a bank. Others outside the bank with their own instructions and contingency plans.

This was not going to go by any kind of playbook Carlos knew, especially not one that had any intention of a happy ending.

---

Carlos and Grace are in the wrong place at the wrong time, caught up in a bank hostage situation. How do you negotiate with someone when it's not about money but about causing harm? And how do you cope when you're the target of it all?

They say it takes a village to raise a child. It took a damn city to write this fic. This has been a long time coming and would not have gotten to this stage if it weren't for everyone who has helped me along the way.

In no particular order, I want to thank: @slayerkitty, @bubblesandroses8, @sapphire11, @queen-saltyfries, @doublel27, @chaotictarlos, @bisexual-unicorn0, @harryhorrorpictureshow, and everyone else on this hellsite who has sent me love and encouragement.

Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you. For your help, encouragement, ideas, lines, support, prodding, translations, and for generally not giving up on me.

Title comes from the poem "Life" by Charlotte Brontë

Life, believe, is not a dream So dark as sages say; Oft a little morning rain Foretells a pleasant day.

------

Carlos likes to think he's a patient man. He has to be. As a patrol officer he's one of the go-to guys for canvassing, asking the same questions, often recording the same answers. He's sat on duty desks during the graveyard shifts where the biggest event was his cell phone battery dying and robbing him of his only distraction.

Hell, he waited TK Strand out and now look at them.

Carlos likes to think he's a patient man but god help him if this queue at the bank wasn't making him re-evaluate that conclusion. He's actually convinced that he's further back than he was when he started. He should have come earlier. Or left it until later. Or another day. He's waited this long, what was another day? He'd have another day off at some point, a day when TK was at work and he could run this errand. He could absolutely do this another day.

Maybe he'd spend that day in this same queue.

"Hey, honey," came a voice beside him and he turned to see Grace slipping into the line next to him. She flashed a smile to the person behind them and linked her arm with his. "Please let me cut in, I swear I cannot spend my day off in this line," she added quietly.

Carlos laughed softly and patted the hand that was on his arm. "Of course, darling."

"D'ya think they do this on purpose?" she asked. "Put fewer people on the counters just before lunch?"

"Should be a crime if they do," Carlos muttered.

"Feel free to have a word," Grace laughed softly.

"Maybe I will."

"So what brings you down here?" she asked. "I would have thought you'd be all online for everything."

"Normally I am," Carlos said. "But you need to come down in person to close the account so this is how I'm apparently spending my day off."

"Me too," Grace sighed.

"Isn't Judd on shift?" Carlos asked. "You leave Charlie in the car?"

"Window's cracked," she quipped. "No, she's in day care. Lord knows I love that girl more than life itself, but her momma was a whole person before her and sometimes I think I forget that. Like there's not a thing of mine that doesn't have her stuff in now, don't think I own a bag that doesn't now have diapers and wipes and bags in." She paused for a second. "Does that make me a bad mom?"

"I think that makes you a good person. Taking time for yourself means Charlie gets the best version of you."

"This is why I like you," she laughed.

"Being a parent can't be easy."

"No, but it's amazing. And unexpected sometimes." She caught Carlos' look of confusion and smiled. "Wyatt," she added by way of explanation.

"Right. Yeah."

"Judd took to bein' a father like the proverbial duck with Charlie, and he stepped right up with Wyatt too, making plans for trips and days out and spending time with him. I think Judd's tryin' to make up for missing out on so much, even though it weren't his fault."

"He's a good man, Grace."

"He's the best. Family comes first for him, full of love, nothing's too much. Think you've got one of them yourself."

Carlos smiled in agreement. "Yeah, I do."

Keep reading on AO3

#tarlos #tk strand #carlos reyes #911 lone star #911ls #otp: hey baby #writing jen is writing #tarlos fic

[silenthillmutual]

i keep looking at my own fic ideas from like a couple years ago that i have outlines for and going "wow, i really don't want to write these!" so here's a comprehensive list of fanfics i still have on my desktop which i have started but made litle progress on:

masterpiece theatre - an akira/mob psycho 100 crossover. the premise of this one was that tetsuo managed to create an alternate universe at the end of the film/manga, which was the mp100 universe. he's just kind of there trying to live a normal life while navigating the trauma from his past life. naturally this does not work out well and he winds up both meeting people from the akira 'verse and people from the mp100 'verse. i think i had in mind that it would end roughly around the first season of mp100. anyway this was roughly inspired by my musings about mp100 reminding me of a sort of inverse of akira's storyline that i can no longer articulate because it has been years since i read mp100 all the way through.

cause - this was just going to be a complete rewrite of rebel without a cause where i fixed what i saw as a pacing issue with the film and also gave more context to the characters' lives because i have a love/hate relationship with the original

it's not my party, but i'll still cry if i want to - a really short fic that was taking characters from rebel without a cause and plopping them into a modern 'verse just for the sake of having jim infodump about the 50s while sulking because he thinks judy & plato are doing something together and generally having rsd

where worlds collide and days are dark - all i got is that it's for mgs and i still have a hold of this document despite it just being snippets of fic i wrote like years ago.

statement of daniil dankovsky // statement of artemy burakh - magnus archives crossovers for pathologic, the first one being daniil's statement about the world being alive (based on pathologic classic) and the second one being artemy's statement about seeing daniil die, only to be "replaced" by another actor the following day while everyone else acts like nothing ever happened.

when you finally get involved, face to face - danganronpa ishimondo fic that was a project to see if i could focus long enough to write 100k. instead of getting together as teenagers, the fic would take place over the span of 10 years, where they'd get together as adults. i was really excited about this one when i started it, but people started being transmisogynist in the comments so i stopped working on it and got into pathologic instead.

a document titled 'cool ishimaru has a chill day with boyfriend' which i think was about ishimaru discovering he's trans, that was meant to be a non-despair au and with everyone being generally supportive of him.

flaws - danganronpa fic where taka talks to makoto about feeling possessive and how horrible it feels but i never actually finished or published it. it's pretty much done now... i could go back and edit it down to where i'm satisfied with it but i don't know :/

i wanna ruin our friendship (we should be lovers instead) - some kind of au where either it's non-despair or everyone lives... it was going to have hina and taka bonding over having crushes on their best friends who are oblivious. it was gonna be from hina's pov bc i love her

in the middle - okay this one i swear i will write one day... whenever i replay trigger happy havoc... it was going to be a polyamory fic where mondo is dating chihiro, who used to date taka and desperately wants mondo and taka to be friends. they'd be in college here. chihiro is transfem and taka is transmasc and mondo realizes he's nonbinary i think was a plot point. anyway,

an untitled danganronpa fic wherein hope's peak decides the classes need mentors and taka picks juzo, w ho came out of the closet for the express purposes of getting out of having to mentor anybody. but taka thinks it was very brave of him and wants advice on coming out despite being a public figure.

letters - this was just going to be eight, thirty-one from taka's pov

jojo's despaire adventure - jojo characters put in a danganronpa situation. pretty sure polnareff was going to be the protag of this one. it was going to be a simulation dio was running to try and rewrite the universe, hence why so many characters from so many parts were there and also had no memory of each other. i think kakyoin was going to be the first casualty.

all of my started but unfinished assorted jjba works you can still find on ao3: next chapter of cherry wine was going to have a karaoke section because fox gave me the funniest image of hol horse singing a shitty maroon 5 song. i have no idea where i was headed with heads on a science apart. not sure what the next chapter of heart of glass was going to be and i don't feel like pulling up the outline but i can tell you how it ended if anyone is curious about that. she told me to come but i was already there - there was going to be a battle of the bands kind of thing wherein we were going to get hol horse singing 'ride a horse, save a cowboy'. that was the highlight of the chapter and i don't remember what else i had planned for it. starfish crusaders was going to have a mechanic where some of the joestars were part merpeople and could transform at will. warmth, though, i have no idea where i was going with that.

alexithymia - a patho fic exploring the turmoil of not knowing, understanding, or articulating your own feelings. with daniil, of course.

something just titled 'angst outline' that is for a long form pathologic angst fic i was never going to write because i was convinced nobody was going to read it. it was going to be burda but with even more problems and issues and angst for the sake of angst.

a fic about artemy's insomnia

some unspcified fics about daniil being autistic

bio murky - okay this is really obvious but the reason to read the fic was that it was transmasc artemy. essentially artemy and daniil met and hooked up and maybe started falling in love in the capital and then artemy left for home unexpectedly... because he was pregnant. i think this was going to be an everyone lives kind of au or potentially even a no-sand pest au.

a blurb about andrey and his bipolar disorder

e pluribus unem - if i ever actually write this one i'll have to find a title that won't invoke such a knee-jerk reaction but anyway this was a fic about daniil going about wooing artemy by making amends/friends with those of artemy's bound. it was going to be told in little shorts of daniil meeting with the kids. originally i wrote this from daniil's pov but i think if i write this one i'll do it from the kids' povs.

a blurb about daniil having a breakdown after the end of classic

let's climb the cliff edge and jump again - this was gonna be a fic about daniil and andrey's tentative friendship in university where andrey is a horrible influence, a horrible friend, and a horrible brother. it was loosely inspired by my toxic girl friendships i had in college [a/n: i was a girl in college] and the first time i got high. i wanted it to be My Dandrey Fic but without happy dandrey at the end... hints of griefdrey instead... and again thinking about andrey's bipolar disorder because i'm always thinking about it!

a mark/rubin fic that was gonna be nsfw.

mystical inclinations - a soulmate au with tattoos i think? polyamory and platonic soul mates were going to be a thing in this au but i kind of don't remember what i was doing with it.

another pregame burda au

a fic i started where rubin is mortified to be caught in between artemy and daniil's...whatever

a fic about artemy & daniil's first kiss

talk too much - daniil, who is usually a smoother talker, has a habit of sticking his foot in his mouth whenever artemy is around

another fic entry in my modern au thing, where artemy's kids meet daniil for the first time

vince malum bono - clara talking to each of her bound on the last few days of the plague, patho-2 version

when my time comes around, lay me gently in the cold, dark earth - this was going to be mashing up daniil and artemy's routes (and at the end, clara's as well). with burda. of course.

when the day met the night - burda fic where daniil is about to get taken out by the government because he's a criminal against common sense and good morals, and artemy panics and tells the emmisaries who show up that they can't take daniil because they are to be married, and they can't take the menkhu's husband. and of course the emmissaries aren't stupid so they say they'll be back for the wedding. very romcom.

#icarus.txt #ominous fic talk #idk if anyone here remembers me from some of these fandoms #but like if you wanna know what's up w one of these maybe talking abt it will inspire me. who knows!

[watching-pictures-move]

Put On Your Raincoats | Between the Cheeks 2 (Dark, 1990)

In my review of the first Between the Cheeks, I noted that while objectification of women is unavoidable in straight pornography, I was put off by that movie’s refusal to define its female characters by anything other than the acts they performed in their sex scenes. This one is similarly objectifying, but at least it gives actual speaking parts to women outside the sex scenes. Maybe this speaks to my low standards for the genre in this respect, especially a production from the ‘90s when porn was getting a lot pornier, but I think that element goes a long way in alleviating my issues with the first movie. In both movies, the sex scenes are connected with goofy overarching framing devices, but the vibe here is a less demeaning towards the women, and more self-deprecating. We get a pimp telling us about his pimping philosophy ( "If you can't marry big money, this is the next best thing", "All I know is there's a lot of money to be made, and what better person to make it than me?"), only for him to be revealed as a mental patient convinced that the anus is where the soul lives. (He tells another patient played by Tom Byron not to go to the bathroom because his soul will leak out.)

Naturally what follows are a bunch of scenes that, as you can guess from the title, emphasize the “soul”, by which I mean anal sex. Now, without getting too graphic, I must note that there are two instances where, how do I say, the geography of the scene doesn’t make sense. In both scenes, let’s say that one thing is happening near the woman’s head, and another thing is happening near her waist, and the way the movie cuts between both occurrences suggests that they did not happen to her at the same time, despite them being presented as such. In most other pornos, I would chalk this up to technical sloppiness, but as this is a Gregory Dark movie, I suspect it might have been deliberate, a way to rub it in our face that people are watching this for one reason (except me, I’m watching it for intellectual reasons, I swear), and that logic or realism don’t matter, just keep the close-ups flowing. And I must concede that he probably has a point with this, given that the sex scenes here are consistently energetic and nicely complemented by the hard rock soundtrack. Given that the first one starred Ginger Lynn, it might be blasphemy to say this, but I thought the sex scenes in this one were way hotter across the board. (I should note that I’ve yet to be sold on Ginger Lynn, but have positive feelings about a few of the performers here, like Tianna, Bionca and Nikki Wilde, whose involvement in Party Doll A Go-Go! will always give them a place in my heart.)

I also think Dark’s deliberately cheap production design works a lot better here, as it allows the mise en scene to feel abstracted and stylish in ways that mesh nicely with the intensity of the action. (A frantic lesbian scene set on a pile of garbage feels anything but grimy.) I suspect the more purposeful use of lighting and colour play a role, as I recall the original had a consistently unappealing colour scheme. Dark also repurposes the interview framing device from his Devil in Miss Jones movies, but the effect is more obviously comedic, with characters offering alternating assessments of the hero’s character.

"I always thought he'd be a great science fiction writer"

"He was a real pervert, a sicko."

"He was a really nice guy. Warm, kind, loving"

Add to that a bunch of psychotronic montages, a steady stream of psychobabble and some amusingly daffy sex scenes (a guy dressed as a duck making quacking noises, a gangbang with aliens in tinfoil hats, bibs and speedos), and you have yourself a good time.

And for completist reasons, I also watched Between the Cheeks 3, which sadly was not stylized as B3TW33N TH3 CH33KS (the 3s would denote its place in the series, while also resembling the body part of interest). This one followed in the kooky vein of the second, but with a more repetitive framing device, slacker pacing and more generic soundtrack, I found it a lot less entertaining. I did laugh however when Brittany O’Connell, as the hero’s psychiatrist, diagnoses him with “rectal dementia”, which he imagines she treats with a threesome with two guys who come out of a giant beanbag anus, only for her to inform him that he had “a dream within a dream”. So there’s at least one good scene.

#film #movie review #put on your raincoats #between the cheeks 2 #between the cheeks 3 #gregory dark

[azureaqua]

❥︎ The Queen’s Deceit • Ikemen Prince fanfiction

DISCLAIMER;

1. I don't own any of the ikepri characters and surroundings here, just my OC whom I created just for this purpose!

2. This is my first writing here and on top of that my first English writing! It's not my first language so there could be typos, and grammatical errors (as I'm still kind of learning the language) — in case this happens please tell me, I'm quick to fix them and make better quality!

3. Last, but not least is the story itself and some characters' personalities. Since the plot doesn't follow after our MC in the game, things can be different! Also, some elements were completely invented by me, so please keep an eye out for that too! (Plus, there could be spoilers for some routes.)

• Chapter II. 

I admit, Rhodolite is pretty even in the evening when you can't see as much... But still, the scenery is better than in Obsidian at any time of the year.

Flowers - especially roses - actually bloom here! And looks like not just the royal palace, but the commoners have their own gardens too, which is again good to see. I swear, in itself, just this information lifted my mood unexpectedly. 

I wonder how far am I from the castle, or the center of the kingdom? I haven't been walking for such a long time, since the country's Western borders. And I'm sure that although it's a small nation, I won't reach the headquarters in a couple of hours, especially not on foot. 

Maybe I could sleep on the street for the time being until morning? The weather is pleasant enough, so I wouldn't have any problem freezing to death, which is a nice change. Also, the streets look friendly - the petite flowerpots on the sidewalks, illuminated buildings, houses, and some shops. I have to say Rhodolite looks much safer than Obsidian ever did. 

I was silently strolling down the streets, appreciating the undisturbed landscape and the soilless details it had to offer. I was treading on the brighter side of the road when suddenly, in front of me, a pub's door nearly slammed in my face as I was close to leaving it. 

What the heck- ?

"Ya wanna know somethin' huh? I'd love to punch you in the face right now 'cause ya askin' for it!" Okay, I might have overestimated the safety a bit.

"Let's sort this out, then!" Oh no, are they planning to have a pub wrestling? I guess I'm not going to get through them anytime soon... 

As I tried to go to the opposite side of the street to be safe from the fistfight, my attempt proved unsuccessful because they almost instantly noticed me.

"Hey, that chick is trying to get away!" Said the taller one. 

Damn, I don't want them to get to me! I don't want to be involved, especially as I'm not from here! Who knows what they would do to me...

"Get ya ass back here, woman!" Catch me if you can, Ratte! 

With that, I started running on the sidewalk, not knowing where just away from those two drunkards. 

Gosh, that's my luck, and not even a day has passed! 

I was much faster than them, but I was foreign to the area, so I had to keep my eyes open for shortcuts or hide-outs, specifically in the darkness of the night. 

In the end, after a couple of minutes, I found a lonely passage that I could hide in until I catch my breath and pull myself together. And maybe even make a useable plan.

...I'm starting to see a pattern here, I feel like these nerve-racking situations adore me. As if they'd get excited anytime they leave me in one and just be amused at my reactions and solutions. Not that I reciprocate it that much, though.

"Excuse me, Miss?" I suddenly heard a low, almost whispering voice behind me, and just seconds later, I felt a big male hand placing itself on my left shoulder. 

Okay, this guy is not with the drunkards for sure, but never mind, he seems much more dangerous than them, judging by his voice only! 

"...Yes?" I answered him in an unsure tone, a bit speechless, to see if he would do anything. 

"Were you running here, don't have a home or place to sleep?" He saw it, heard it? Damn, I hope I didn't wake up the whole neighborhood but rather the drunkards. 

"Well, you see..." I started, now in a firmer tone, still my back was facing the mysterious male, and his warm palm was still on my shoulder. I have no idea what I'm going to make out of this. "I technically have a home, but it's on the other side of the kingdom, and it is distant from here. I was supposed to be done with my business here much earlier and expected to arrive home before midnight, but things got carried away, and now I'm stuck here." I shrugged my shoulders to seem a bit uninterested but also to try, and shake off his hand from there. 

"I see, young lady. Then in this case, may I offer you someplace to stay?" He finally took his hand off my shoulder, and I turned to face him to examine his face before I declared something that I would regret later.

I woke up feeling like I'm in Heaven between the soft mattress and pillows. I slowly stretched my limbs and rolled over to the edge of the king-sized bed. I looked down, searching for my clock on the nightstand to see what time it was. But it was empty, and suddenly the reality hit me, and I was wide awake; I'm here, in the Rhodolitian castle, after that stranger found me in that alley, running from the drunkards. 

But wait, how did this happen? It was early, so I had a hard time remembering it, but I ended up putting the pieces together.

It turned out that the man who'd found me was the Palace Minister. It was odd because at first, I thought he was a priest or something, based on the clothes he wore. Sariel... that was his name, right?

After that, he called a carriage for us out of the blue, and we began traveling to the castle. There was stillness, we didn't speak to each other - as I was suspicious of him, and he was calmly reading some documents. Eventually, I fell asleep in the carriage, and he woke me up when we arrived at the palace. I remember he assigned me some sort of room, told me to take a shower, and gave me a nightgown. And here I am. I know I was thriving to investigate and sneak into the castle someday, but I would've never imagined that I pull this off on the first day! Yet, I'm fortunate, it seems!

After I had clarified my circumstances, I figured I should go to the bathroom and start the day. But before I could do anything, my door opened, and a young maid stepped in with a pile of clothes. 

"Good morning, Lady Artina!" She said enthusiastically. 

Wait, Lady-? Oh, yeah, right, okay. I have to get used to my name like that. 

"Master Sariel asked me to deliver these everyday garments to your room, seeing you had no change of clothes with you last night." 

"I see, thank you." I accepted the textiles, but she looked like she has more things to say. 

"Also, he requested you to see him in his office after you're ready. It's downstairs; you have to go down the stairs, turn right twice, cross the hallway, turn left, and you're there." She smiled, then bowed and left. 

I immediately forgot the directions she gave me for the minister's office. This will be embarrassing... hope I don't run into anyone important ahead of time. 

After I'd made myself presentable in the bathroom, I opened my room's door to begin the journey towards the minister's office, but I immediately came to a halt. The maid said I should go downstairs, but which way? This is a long aisle packed with different doors and mine was in the middle. To which staircase am I supposed to go now? I will probably make this a hundred times more problematic than it needs to be.

Nonetheless, trying to look composed, I carefully tried to investigate both ends of the corridor to see which is better - and desperately wished that I won't run into anyone who would think of me as a fool. 

Well, the left side looks brighter than the right, so I think I will go that way- 

"...And who might this be, hmm?" All of a sudden I heard a sultry male voice behind me. 

Scheisse. 

I quickly turned around, still trying to look calm and collected, but I was honestly not ready for what - or whom I was about to see. 

Wait a second, I know these two! 

"Are you a new maid, perhaps?" Asked now the lean, purple-haired one. 

Okay, he and his subordinate - the crimson-eyed and silver-haired guy - are oddly familiar since I know I've heard about them... Only suddenly I can't seem to recall their names. 

They give weird appellations in Rhodolite anyway, and I've always had trouble memorizing them while studying about their culture. 

Ach, nee... this is so frustrating, it's on the tip of my tongue! 

"Cat got your tongue, young lady? Or should I call Evie?" The shorter one smiled widely.

His eyes - he looks just like a sly fox, might be that prince who has it as his crest? On the other hand, about his brother, I don't see any resemblance to any animals. But his eyes reflect mischief, and something dangerous, could his crest be a schlange, perhaps? I know somebody has a crest like that too, which is way too specific and suspicious at once.

"No, I got my tongue, and there's no cat." I answered, stone-faced. The best thing with people like them is to prove that you're opaque to their teasing and little games, right? They all might do it for personal reasons, but I never liked human puzzles, and this hasn't changed. 

"Oh, a fierce and ruthless one, I see. Quick to turn down the fun." He laughed with a mischievous glint in his eye, maybe even more intense now. "And I was just getting started." He finished with a smirk. 

Oh, the urge to roll my eyes? Unbearable. 

But I should really start going to that office, they are holding me up, and I will get in trouble. If only I'd know their names, then I could dig up some concrete information in my head about them- 

"Prince Nokto, Prince Clavis!" Then I heard another voice behind me, approaching our trio, but this time it was familiar. 

Oh well, I guess the minister had found me instead of me, finding him. 

He seemed like he wanted to say something more but left it at that. At least their names clicked, and my brain was at peace. 

The minister obviously saw me too, and I guess he figured out why it took so long for me to arrive at his office. Definitely not because I forgot the directions the maid gave me, never. 

The two princes focused their attention on the older man after he reached us, but I was sure I wasn't off their hook. 

"I requested all of you to my office, and your brothers are already there. Please, make yourselves present too." He said strictly. At the end of his sentence, he adjusted his glasses, and they glinted dangerously in the morning light. 

"Does it have to do anything with this lady right here?" Clavis gestured towards me with a small smile. 

"Yes, certainly, but other important matters as well. The next time I return to my office, I'd like to see you there." He put a warning hand on the small of my back as if to signal me not to move and protect me from their further teasing. I assume he knows them well by now and figured out what did we converse about these past minutes. 

At the same time, his hand felt tense against my body. I guess the princes are really testing his patience, by not satisfying his request.

The royals didn't pry any longer, and they started going in that direction I was planning to go as well. My shoulders and expression visibly relaxed, since their presence when they addressed me at first genuinely caught me off-guard. Good thing I wasn't on a battlefield, it's not advantageous to be caught off-guard there.

"...I'll play with you later, then. No-fun lady." When he walked past me, Nokto managed to cause another surprise in me, at last.

He quietly told me his words, topping it off with a newly given nickname in an alluring whisper. And in addition picked up a lock of my ebony black hair, admiring it. 

He's unbelievable. 

__________________________________________________________________________________________

(Tomorrow I'm going on a 5 day holiday, but I will try to write one more chapter today, to be able to post while I'm away! Today's chapter was a bit boring, I know, but I have to settle certain things about the flow of the story, so there will be dull parts in the future too, sorry!)

Part 3 is here!

#cybird ikemen series #ikemen prince #ikepri #leon dompteur #yves kloss #nokto klein #licht klein #luke randolph #jin grandet #gilbert von obsidian #sariel noir #rio ortiz #chevalier michel #clavis lelouch

[danoneediness]

Anatomy of an illness

I've never been the type of girl that likes herself.

It started because I was fat, rounder than a basketball ball, afraid someone might come to me and slap my belly saying they got confused because of the similarities.

At first I didn't even notice, and that's why I hate people telling their kids about problems they see on them. Like, yeah, if you think that might help then do it, but that little special 💫magic💫 and innocence that comes with the mind of a kid is something that, once lost, there's no way to get back to. Why pinch the bubble then?

But then there were too many comments, too many stares, too many opportunities lost.

There was no place to hide anymore, and then it came the crossed arms all the time, specially sitting down, the giant hoodies even in the summer, the long sleeves for the consequences of it, the long hair to hide my neck which only made me look worse. But I was getting used to it.

But one fine day I got diagnosed with insulin resistance and then 20 kilos left, leaving me with the hope that I might find my missing self-love inside me. I didn't. It was so hard to find the peace in myself to start being a little bit more open, to talk to people, raise my voice, even post dumb stories on Instagram. Those little things that look so stupid were just a dream, an illusion up until the day I fought with my inner monsters.

Now, I'm not gonna say that what I do now is the right thing to do, because much despite the fact that I hate to admit it, I'm kinda addicted now to that kind of attention.

Such an attention whore indeed 😙✌.

Because then I started taking those likes, those comments, those messages as a way to feel I'm society, accepted by it.

I keep saying it doesn't even have a true purpose, it is such a waste of time, but let's be honest: I depend on them, it rises my self esteem, my happiness even, it determinate if I'm gonna have a good day or a shitty one.

And that's fucking messed up.

So, besides those fucking social media things that legit doesn't serve for a bigger purpose bit to mess me up even more, there's another problem: the fact that I know there a lot of guys that doesn't like me, as me, but because of what they think I am or because they legit see me as a pair of boobs with feet, and I intend to do nothing about it.

Attention is attention, right?

And sometimes I swear that I'm good with that, but everybody knows I'm just lying to myself. Even I know so.

So when I'm lower than ever I feel the need to feel needed. I feel the feel to be accepted not minding the cost of it. Do you want me to be a mindless body? I'm on it. Do you want to use me and then leave me? Sure, I'm in. Do you want to fuck my brains out, not minding if I get hurt, just so you can feel the king of the jungle? Why not.

I've lost count on how many people have I fucked because I knew they wanted, not me. And it's not their fault but mine. I've lost count on how many people thought it was cool, but hours later I'm just lying in my bed, regretting my choices and trying to make myself feel better about it, saying it's not a big deal, it's living my sexuality freely, it's what I wanted at the time.

And it's not a lie. It was what I wanted at the time. Because I wanted that attention. I needed it.

But this time is different for two reasons mainly:

There were feelings involved.

I just had an abortion.

So let me explain the first one. It was a friend, a true one, and he made me feel safe and secure, and that made me feel better about myself. Or at least it would have been that way if it wasn't for reason 2. But like... the last time I felt that it was only with people I've fucked several times before, I thought it was normal... but I guess it wasn't. So that makes me think: is it better with feelings? Would it be nicer if I was in a relationship? Not with him, but like in general... is this part of that sweet magic they say love is?

And then the second one. I know I have a lot of issues to treat, a lot of therapy to go to, but I didn't think it was much of a big deal, I thought it was a little bit easier, superficial.

Not only do I hate myself, but I truly despise me.

I feel ugly, horrific, I feel it is a punishment to have to look at me the way I truly am, naked. That's why I didn't let him see me. Usually I don't care, but then I felt awful... like, I'm not enough for anyone, they deserve better than me, I suck at everything, even at that: existing.

And then the fear. Is he gonna like me? Is this gonna end up badly? What if... I end up pregnant again? I'm alone, I've always been and I'm even used to it, so that's why I didn't even ask for that guy's help on the abortion. I'm used to being disappointed so I just don't expect anything from people anymore. It's not his fault, and he's got the benefit of the doubt about if he would be responsible in that kind of situations or not, but I wasn't gonna risk it, cause then I'd lose the little amount of mental health I had left. So I did it on my own.

But again? There's no way. I can't. I won't.

He doesn't deserve it, and I don't either, so why risk it? Why through everything away? My life? His life? Our friendship? Our little group of friends? For just one horny night? It will never be worth it.

And then, taking into account what I was saying at the beginning, there are some other guys trying to get into me (yk), and speaking from my hormones, I want to too. But speaking from my future self, my actual self and my past self... even the thought of it makes me sick to the bone. I deserve better, I deserve to give myself a chance to change things, to make something worth having grow into me, into someone else, teach me all those things I haven't had the chance to know.

So... I guess as a conclusion there are a few points I need to get my eyes onto:

I need therapy asap for the abortion, for my absence of self love and self esteem.

I need to be more honest with myself and my partners.

I need to judge more about the people I trust and the way I do it.

I need to give myself the chance to be happy.

I need to give myself to know what love is.

Hopefully I won't die trying.

Literally.

[mercy-burning]

Roommate Agreement

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader x Luke Alvez Summary: After about a year of living with Spencer, Y/N gets excited when he introduces her to a new potential roommate. Category: SMUT (18+) Content: Free use, threesome, cum play, penetrative/unprotected sex, creampie, oral sex (male receiving), rough sex, dirty talk Word Count: 2.3k

MASTERLIST

NOTE: I was gonna write this as a blurb, but it got a little longer than I anticipated lol. I’ve been super into this kink/fantasy lately, so uh.. this was just pure indulgence 🥰✌

———

Apartment hunting and living on my own sucked, which is why Spencer Reid coming into my life was the biggest blessing I ever could have hoped for. He was handsome, kind, welcoming... And he let me live with him for free.

Well, not entirely.

But regardless of our little agreement, I still slip him some cash when rent comes up because it's just common courtesy. I'm grateful that he lets me stay with him and provides me with what I need (and then some), and if there's any way for me to return that favor, I'll do it.

He gets annoyed with me whenever I do it, but I always know how to get him to forget about it...

Just thinking about last night brings a smile to my face as I put away the last few glasses in their respective cupboards.

The heavy padding of Spencer's feet behind me makes me turn around then, and I nearly clench my legs at the sight of him, dressed and ready for work, except his dick is out and hefty in his right hand. It's hard, leaking, and by the look on his face I can tell he's about ready to let go.

"Give me your panties, sweetheart."

Before he even gets out the whole sentence, I make quick work of lifting my shirt out of the way and opening up the fabric, pulling it away from my body and giving him an opening. He walks up with a hungry kiss to my jaw as he jerks himself off, right into my panties until he's making a mess of them. I sigh out happily as he hums against my skin.

And when he's done, he kisses my cheek chastely and uses my shirt to clean up a bit before tucking himself back neatly into his pants. I adjust my panties and feel the warmth spread over my skin while he grabs his bag from the back of the chair to leave.

"Have a good day, Doctor," I call with a cute smile, my hand dipping down to feel the mess he made and wishing he didn't have to go.

"You too, sweetheart," he returns with a wink. He turns to leave, but before he's at the door, he throws back, "Oh, and make sure you're dressed properly when I get back, he's coming over with me after work."

"Wait, really?" I ask brightly, my heart starting to race.

"Mhm. He's excited to meet you."

I’d had plans to run some errands today, but as soon as he tells me the good news, I know I won't be able to get anything done.

———

The second I hear the door, I'm waiting like a dog with a wagging tail, excited for extra company and eager to make a new friend. I flatten my tiny skirt, though with how frilly it is, it really makes no difference— I think that as excited as I am, I'm definitely anxious about potentially adding a new person to our dynamic.

My hands reach behind my back and clasp together as I rock slowly on my feet, ready to welcome them when they come through the door.

Spencer, as always, looks positively delicious, and it only amplifies when he sees me and smiles, reaching out for me. "Somebody's excited..."

In his embrace, I laugh and welcome his hand as it slips up the front of my skirt to make sure I've followed his instructions. He quickly runs his middle finger through my opening, a smile forming on his lips— I can feel it against my neck. "Good girl."

"I couldn't help it," I tell him earnestly, refraining from whining in protest when he removes himself from me entirely. Then I look over his shoulder to see our guest of honor, Spencer's co-worker Luke Alvez. With a shy smile, I reach my hand out to shake his. "I have a new guest to impress."

Luke accepts my hand with a smile all his own, accompanied by wandering eyes that make me feel warm from head-to-toe. It reminds me of how I felt when I first met Spencer while apartment hunting last year. Luke's eyes are just a few shades darker but regardless of color, the hunger swimming within them remains plentiful.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N," he says smoothly. His voice makes me feel a whole new sense of ease and the overwhelming need to submit to him entirely. "I've heard great things."

With introductions out of the way, Spencer ushers Luke into the apartment and I close the door. "Let me show you around a bit," he says, and the two walk off, leaving me to follow behind.

We tour the whole apartment, Spencer taking his sweet time with the walking and the talking... I swear he's doing it on purpose, to make me wait and get me riled up, but regardless I stay patient and involve myself in their conversations as normal. Actually, it would have all felt like a completely normal apartment tour in the first place, had I not been thinking about how the men accompanying me would use me in the future...

Spencer saves the living room for last, and once we make it to the couch, I pray that he's ready to start showing Luke the added benefit of choosing to live here rather than in an apartment by himself...

And he knows me so well, because he pulls me aside with a cheeky smile, his hand resting firmly on my ass and under my skirt. "So, Alvez, you wanna give her a whirl?"

"You're uh... You're sure this is alright? You don't mind?"

His concern is sweet, but I can see the lust sparkling in his eyes as he looks over me once more.

Spencer laughs a bit, squeezing my ass with a nod. "Of course. Look how happy she is to see you... So ready to be used up..."

Luke's tongue darts out over his bottom lip at my roommate's words, his decision becoming more clear.

Still, I help out. "It's true... When Spencer first mentioned adding a new roommate to our arrangement, I couldn't wait... And you're perfect.

"So what do you say?" Spencer asks once more with finality.

Luke strides over to me slowly, my head tilting higher with each inch he gets closer. He looks down at my lips and smiles before bringing his thumb gently to my mouth. "This pretty little mouth has been calling to me since I walked through the door..."

I hear Spencer laugh beside me as Luke slips his thumb past my lips and over my tongue. I suck it into my mouth with a tiny groan, flitting my eyes up at him and arching my back as Spencer's grip on my ass gets tighter.

"Get on the couch, sweetheart," he says, letting go and giving me a small spank.

Luke's thumb pops out of my mouth and I stumble to the couch, getting on all fours so my hands are on the arm and my knees are buried in one of the cushions.

The unmistakable sound of their laughing fills my ears and makes me even more eager, though I know better than to tell them outright what I want. Unless either of them asks me to, I'm not going to beg. I mean, I'm not sure about Luke, but I know that Spencer prefers when I use visual signs in our daily routine. He likes to hear me use my words, sure, but that's only on occasions where he's in a happier, more giving mood. Most of the fucking we do is when he comes home frustrated and needs to take. No questions asked.

And truthfully, I like that more. Which is why I'd agreed to be his roommate in the end.

Spencer does seem to be more giving today, moving this right along and taking his pants off before walking over to me while his friend follows suit, but I follow our rules anyway, wanting to make a good impression on Luke (though I'm positive I've already secured that bag).

Luke's pants come off too, though he waits until he's right in front of my face. I'm looking up at him with my bottom lip between my teeth, and when he starts to work at his belt, I look down to see.

Meanwhile I feel Spencer's weight dip down behind me, and it doesn't take long for him to slide right in, spreading my legs further and beginning to fuck me steadily. He gathers my hair from my face and into a makeshift ponytail with one hand while the other rests at my hip. "You gonna be a big girl and open your mouth wide, or do I have to make you?"

I respond in kind by slacking my jaw and welcoming Luke, his hands coming down to tilt my chin and slide his thick, hard dick into my mouth.

"That's right, sweetheart," Spencer praises, giving me another small spank and a slight tug of the hair. Meanwhile Luke is slowly fucking my throat, pushing himself deeper with each thrust.

Eventually, the two of them are fucking me with perfect rhythm. Each time Spencer goes in, Luke goes out, and their force is even the same. It's building and building with each second, and I can feel my whole body start to go numb with pleasure. My knees are tingling from the couch, my ass is surely red from how many times Spencer has spanked me, and my throat is bruising beautifully.

Spencer's hand releases my ass and reaches out to my throat. The way he's bending forward gives him a deeper angle inside me, and I can't help the choked whimper that comes out of my mouth because of it. He can feel it, too, because his fingers rest just under my chin.

"His cock feels so good down your throat, doesn't it, baby?" he coos, driving into me harder.

I squeeze my eyes shut for a few seconds to blink away the tears that blur my vision, and when I open them I look up at Luke, pure unadulterated bliss painting his features. He looks down at me with awe and lust and need, and I can tell that it won't be long before he snaps.

"When he comes, you're gonna keep it in, okay? I wanna see it..."

I clench around Spencer at his words, and my orgasm follows shortly after. As soon as I start to come down, Luke holds himself still at the back of my throat and comes with a shout, his hands rooting in my hair. I try my hardest to keep it all in, meanwhile Spencer starts to stutter as well. And by the time Luke is pulling himself away from me, his friend is coming inside me, just like he's done so many times before.

It's a familiar, wonderful feeling, though this time it's even better because I know I have cum filling both ends of me. I feel so full, so warm and numb and fucked out, and I never want to go a single day without it that way.

When Spencer pulls out and leaves the couch, Luke makes room for him in front of me. He steps into view then, reaching his hand out to pry my mouth open and examine his friend's work.

"Oh, sweetheart, you look so pretty with all Luke's cum in your mouth... Doesn't she look pretty, Alvez?"

The other man muses, his hand coming down to graze my cheek. Both their hands are on either side of my face, and they're gazing down at me with such wonderment that I swear I'll do anything to feel this way again— to make them feel this way again.

"She sure does," Luke says, and I nuzzle into his hand. "Just like a proper cumdump."

Their words and their eyes and their touches send butterflies soaring through my whole body and bring an open-mouthed smile to my face.

"You can swallow now," Spencer says, tapping my cheek. I do, and immediately afterwards he leans down to kiss me deeply. I lean into him and flutter my eyes closed, the feeling of his cum dripping out of me and down my leg only adding to the blissful state I'm in.

He pulls away, and I glance over at Luke, who has his dick in his hand and an amused smile on his face. "Damn, I could almost go again..."

I can tell he only means it as a way to keep the mood light, maybe as a joke, but in hopes that it will make him more comfortable with the idea that he can quite literally use me whenever he wants to, I smile as sincerely as I can. "That's what I'm here for," I offer brightly, getting up off the couch and trying to stand on wobbling legs.

I somehow manage, Spencer helps to steady me, and then he laughs, kissing me on the cheek. "You two have fun. I'm gonna shower, and then I have to take care of some errands. That okay with you?"

Luke and I give our approval, Spencer kisses me once more, and then admires me for a few seconds before throwing his friend a wink and heading off to the shower.

The moment I'm alone with Luke Alvez, he takes my hand and gives it a kiss. "You really are something special, princess..."

The nickname, while not entirely new since Spencer had mumbled it a few times with my mouth wrapped around his dick, sounds absolutely delightful coming from Luke's lips.

"Thank you," I purr, leading him to the couch and pulling him on top of me. "But there's still so much for you to discover..."

He hums amusedly, tracing my mouth with his thumb again. This time I take it gently between my teeth before he slips his cock inside me, which inadvertently makes me let go of it in favor of a whimper.

"Well, then I guess it's a good thing I'm moving in..."

———

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#spencer reid x reader #ralvez x reader #spencer reid x reader x luke alvez #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #luke alvez smut #luke alvez fanfiction #luke alvez x reader #spencer reid x reader smut #luke alvez x reader smut #ralvez x reader smut #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fanfiction #luke alvez #spencer reid

[angry-geese]

Fluorescent Adolescent

Itadori x Reader x Sukuna

Warnings: sfw. platonic/romantic (interpretable). some minor swearing. mostly fluff. mention of violence. poly (sort of). Gn!Reader

Notes: Yuji and the reader have a movie night together. Sukuna decides to tag along

Nights at home were rare.

There’s not a lot of downtime when studying to become a sorcerer. Gojo was always sending you off on jobs that his students were very much not ready to handle. The line of work doesn't really follow a set schedule. Curses rarely exorcise themselves.

You haven't even graduated and you already wanted to retire.

You wanted to do something to celebrate your time off. Yuji suggested a movie night. You had nothing else in mind, and it sounded nice. The two of you thought about inviting Nobara. Movies weren't really her thing; she had other plans anyway. It wasn't often you got to hang out with just Yuji.

Gojo side-eyed you when you asked to borrow a movie. Your first mistake was asking him. The last time you borrowed one from him, the disc had been switched out with a porno. It took Yuji quite a while to figure out what was wrong. Nobara couldn’t pause the thing fast enough. Whether he forgot, or he did it on purpose, you’ll never know. You have the sneaking suspicion he meant to do it. When you gave it back the next day, Gojo never questioned why Yuji couldn’t look him in the eye.

Maybe that’s why Nobara passed on this one.

Eventually you settled on a horror movie. You're not quite sure what it was about. It looked gruesome. The cover had fake looking blood all over it. Despite being a jujutsu sorcerer, you were a wimp when it came to things like this. In the heat of the moment you could deal with it, but when it came to movies you were squeamish. It didn't matter how many times you told yourself that it wasn't real.

In the other room, the microwave beeps. The smell of burned popcorn fills the room. He likes his burnt; you can't stand the stuff. Two bowls had to be made. Both with a healthy dousing of salt and butter. Not the powdered stuff either; the real kind.

"You're going to miss it!" You call out.

"No I'm not!" Only a moment later followed by: "maybe I am!"

Yuji flings himself over the couch, just in time for the movie to start. Popcorn spills over the sides of the bowl, onto the couch and floor. He shouts "five second rule" before popping one into his mouth. Immediately you tackle him. He’s a bit stronger than you, and easily struggles free. It takes you nearly sitting on him to stop him. You have to pry the rest of the floor popcorn out of his hands like someone fighting their dog for an item it shouldn't be eating.

"Are you going to stop?” You ask. “Or are you going back for more the second I let you go?"

Weakly he nods.

The moment you let go of his wrists he’s lunging past you, reaching for it. In one swift motion you have him under you, pinning him to the floor.

The movie starts off with a creepy looking scientist, and two women stranded in a forest. You admit defeat, and collapse on top of him.

"Man I got hit so many times over this one," he offhandedly mentions.

"What?"

His response is a grunt.

If he says something out of pocket, it's best not to acknowledge it. He could write an entire novel about his life and barely scratch the surface. It’s almost impressive at this point.

It intrigued you, though. There were about a million questions you had for him. Asking one only brought up a hundred more.

The first thing you learned about Itadori Yuji was how he was Sukuna’s vessel. The second thing you learned was that he was going to die.

You were told not to get attached. Against almost everyone's advice, you did. So did many others. Yuji was truly strange. He didn't have the look of a man given a death sentence.

You often wonder how you'd react in his situation. Maybe you'd go to your death with a lot less grace. But there's no way of knowing until it happens. You like to think you'll go out in a blaze of glory.

Your interactions with Sukuna had been few, and only in passing. Aside from stories, you don't have much to say about him. Generally you aren't around when they switch. The one time you were, they didn't stay switched for very long. It still made you wonder. Since they shared domes, could Sukuna see everything that went on in Yuji's daily life? How much control did they really have over each other?

Sukuna would often switch out with Yuji while he slept. You expected that. He was unpredictable, and a bit of a prick. He's the king of curses after all. What more would you expect from a demon? Strangely enough, he never did anything. It wasn’t a proper switch, more like a particular hand or leg was taken over. Sometimes he'd knock things over, or hide Yuji's things, but he was never much more than an inconvenience. The guy could be a menace, sure, but he wasn't nearly what you expected.

He lays his head in your lap. Instinctively your hand finds his head, gently carding through his hair. It's strangely soft. It feels nice between your fingers. Sometimes you wonder if he dyes his hair, or if it's naturally like that. Come to think of it, you've never seen a baby picture- or even a childhood photo.

It's almost horrifying how quickly Yuji began to doze off. You sat there the entire time in wide-eyed horror. Maybe a bit of disbelief. If he feels the way your legs tense underneath him, he says nothing about it. He's snoring in no time. He can't help it, your hands feel so nice in his hair.

Unfortunately, you had caught Sukuna's attention too.

Nothing went on in Yuji's life without Sukuna listening in. Every little detail about his day to day life was known by Sukuna. Most days he didn't care to listen in. Unless there was a fight, or something to piss off, he wasn't interested. He was the first to realize how fond his host was of you. Immediately he started plotting all the ways he could hurt Yuji with you.

That plan was cut short.

He's not sure when it happened. Slowly you became worth something to him. Your strength was promising. If you continued on your path you could prove to be a truly frightening sorcerer. He found your will to fight impressive, albeit naive. At first it was a reluctant respect. You had promise. He could use that. Either against your or against other sorcerers, it didn't matter to him. You'd work in his favor eventually.

There was one moment that stuck out. One where his feelings went from a general distaste to fondness. You were fighting a curse, of all things. Although it didn't hit hard, it could shrug off a lot of damage. It wasn't particularly strong, but it was tough, and smart, proving to be a pain in the ass to everyone involved. With a snap of his fingers he could have exorcised it. But he didn't. Watching you two fight it was much more entertaining. If his host was killed, he'd simply bring him back.

Something went wrong. He's not quite sure what. The moments went by like shots out of a badly filmed movie. One scene. Then cut. Then the next scene. Then cut.

You're clinging onto his arm, asking if he's—Yuji—is okay. You weren't even hurt, but you were soaked in blood.

His feelings for you weren't disgust, or hatred, or even pity. It was something much worse. If he was capable of liking someone, it would be you. Sukuna could never imagine himself feeling this way for a human.

He hates that.

The affection he feels isn't love in a proper sense, but that's the only word for it. A creature like him isn't capable of love. He's the king of curses, he'll never lower himself to the level of humans. He'll never view you as more than a pet, but he cares for you in some sort of way.

Sukuna's affection comes out as bullying. Well, as much as a lone mouth can bully someone. You've learned to tune him out or brush him off. He's harmless around you. Yuji seems to keep him on a short leash. His bark is far worse than his bite. At least to you. You really can't say that for any unfortunate bastard that decides to piss him off.

Jokingly, you began referring to Sukuna when talking to Yuji. It was only to make him roll his eyes. Everyone hated when you did that, because usually Sukuna would respond. You tried to see how long you could get him to talk before he realized you we're screwing with him. It usually took a while.

Yuji's snores have gotten awfully quiet. The movie is less terrifying than you expected, but it makes your stomach churn. His eyes are open when you look down. They aren't Yuji's; they have a different look in them. Sukuna’s eyes have no humanity in them at all.

Both sets of Sukuna's eyes are focused on the TV. You're not quite sure when they switched. He made no show of it. One second he was Yuji, the next he wasn't. His hand rests on your knee, his thumb gently rubbing across your skin. He feels a bit colder than Yuji. You can’t help but wonder if it’s a curse thing or just a coincidence.

You try not to stare for too long.

"This is boring." He says. "You find this scary? Let alone entertaining?"

He doesn't like seeing you distressed, even if it's directed at something that isn't real.

"Yes, thank you," you say.

Maybe if you keep scratching his head he'll stop talking.

"Why do you like these? Clearly you don't like being scared." He says.

"Keep talking and I'll stop playing with your hair."

His sharp nails dig into your skin. "No."

"Then I suggest you stop talking,"

He sulks. It’s almost impressive how quickly you get him to back down.

He's a bit like a cat; the second your arms are tired and you need to rest, his fingers are digging into your skin. He doesn't want you to stop. The moments where he wants affection are ones where you can't—or don't want—to give it to him.

It's almost a competition between him and Yuji. His host is always so open with how he cares for you. You’re very affectionate towards each other. You’re affectionate towards all your friends. He finds it sickening. He wants your attention to be on him and only him. Yuji is only competition. Unfortunately for him—and you too, let's face it—they're a package deal. Sharing isn’t exactly a skill he has.

He shifts so he's sitting up, his head resting against your chest. Your heartbeat drops off for a second, before picking up in pace. You rest your chin on top of his head. Your hands find his hair, brushing it out of his eyes.

It's not long after his breathing evens out.

His head nods, eyes half shut, gaze still on the tv. You're so warm, he notes. He doesn't remember human contact feeling this nice. However hard he tries to fight sleep, it's no use, he can't stay awake for much longer.

For now, he would settle on sharing you if it meant he could have moments like this.

#jjk x reader #itadori yuji x reader #yuji x reader #sukuna ryoumen x reader #sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #fluff #poly #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff