#(and may be feeling a thing or two with a little less on the mind)

[lillaydee]

Head Over Heels Part 6

Jackson!Joel / Reader

Special Guest Appearance by a Certain FBI Agent who may or may not look a lot like Joel.

You left the loneliness of your home and headed to Jackson with Joel and the teenage girl he was with, hoping your new life would be less lonely. You should've stayed alone.

WARNING:

Non-canon Compliant, Pining, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Joel (The Last of Us), Joel is Bad at Feelings (The Last of Us), Joel Needs a Hug (The Last of Us), Joel Lives (The Last of Us), Protective Joel (The Last of Us), Soft Joel (The Last of Us), Jealousy, Loneliness, Trauma.

MEGA WARNING: Descriptions of Attempted Sexual Assault.

@copperhalfcent @joelalorian @vickie5446 @peelieblue @nandan11 @liciafonseca @senoratess @denisanoemi @lovefreylove @heartpatch

SERIES MASTER LIST

Part 5

---

Ellie waited for about an hour outside your studio before giving up that day. She came back the day after and waited 30 minutes longer than the day before. She never waited longer than two hours, Joel would lose his mind if she wasn’t home by curfew. But she kept waiting, day in and day out, hoping you would even glance at her. You didn’t.

You didn’t want to be petty, but fuck, you’d discovered that you definitely were petty. PETTY. So petty you started having fun watching her stand around hoping you’d open the door and invite her in.

But then, after a week, you just felt cruel. Yet, you were not ready to give in, so you just went in and out of your studio via the library door.

You were just settling in bed one night, feeling a bit light-hearted since you didn’t see Ellie out your window that day, when you heard a scratch on the door leading to the library.

Shit, what was that? A rat? A ghost?

Took you a while to gather up the courage to go to the door. But when the scratch turned into a knock, you pursed your lips together and yanked it open, a sorry looking teenager falling onto her back as you did. She had followed you home from work one day and discovered the door from the library. The cheeky bugger had hidden herself somewhere in the library until Ike left and ambushed you.

You couldn’t help yourself and laughed out loud.

She got up, standing in the dark doorway, waiting for you to grant her access.

You jerked your head inwards, and she released a heavy sigh of relief before stepping inside. You walked across the room to switch the light on, but she begged you not to chase her away. She thought you were going to open the other door and make her leave.

You switched the light on and asked her to take a seat on your bed.

She smiled a teary smile and did as you asked.

You didn’t say anything, just stared at her, waiting for her to explain herself.

She twisted her hands together, finally taking a deep breath.

“Elena, am I the reason you moved out?”

You didn’t answer. Just cocked your head to the side a little, your eyebrows raised, your lips pursed together as if to say what do you think? She nodded, looking down at the floor.

“I’m sorry I said those things, Elena. I don’t mean them. I don’t want you to leave.”

“Then why did you say them?”

She shrugged. Her lips began to tremble, “I’m so sorry Elena, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“You did, Ellie.”

She nodded, sobbing a little now, and damn it, the stupid gender-related instinct in you lost and you went over and hugged her. She clung on to you, apologizing over and over again. I know, you said, kissing the top of her head, I know.

She explained herself when she had calmed down a little, telling you everything that was going on in her head, how Maria chastised her for hurting you, the words ‘I’m sorry’ repeated like a broken record. You made a mental note to bake Maria something as a thank you.

She knew you wouldn’t forgive her just like that, she said, but she’s willing to work for your forgiveness. She’ll do anything, she said. Please, Elena, she said. I’m sorry.

“That’ll do for now,” you said, “But you have to work hard to earn my forgiveness Ellie. I’m not an angel. I have feelings. Anger. Sadness. Pettiness.”

She laughed a little at your last statement, nodding, asking you if she could stay with you that night. Joel was out on night patrol. Of course, you said. The two of you spent the night talking, and you had to assure her she was not the sole reason you moved out. She finally asked you if she could ask you something. Sure, you said, anything.

“Bill and Frank, the guys you lived with, were they a couple? Like a romantic couple?”

You nodded.

“What’s that like? Loving someone of the same sex? Romantic love, I mean. Not like you love Maria or Liv or Diana.”

You shrugged, “It’s the same as loving someone of the opposite sex, I guess. It’s love, Ellie.”

“You don’t think it’s wrong? To choose to be in love with someone of the same sex?”

You laughed a bit, “Loving someone is not a choice, Ellie. You don’t choose to love someone. Not romantically, at least. That’s why you fall in love. Who you fall in love with is not something you consciously do. You fall in love because you do. Who they are, what sex they are, it doesn’t matter. You don’t choose Ellie. It just happens.”

“What if people hate you for it?”

“Then… I feel sorry for them for not having enough love in their life to not understand love is not a choice.”

She went quiet for a while.

“If I fall in love with a girl, would you hate me?”

“Why would I? If you’re in love, you’re happy, so I’ll be happy for you.”

“You don’t want to ask me who I’m talking about?”

“You’ll tell me when you’re ready.”

She nodded. She looked contemplative for a while.

“But I can choose to love a boy instead, can’t I? It’ll be much easier.”

“Oh, honey, if who you fall in love with was a choice, I would choose different,” you told her, smoothing her hair out. “Believe me, my life would be so much better.”

She contemplated her next words very, very carefully.

“Joel?”

You didn’t answer.

“I don’t know what you think of him exactly, Elena, but I know you’re wrong. You should give him a chance. He’s just… complicated.”

“Unlike being in love, being complicated is a choice,” you told her. “Just like choosing to hurt people with your words.”

She nodded, telling you she was sorry again, and you hugged her to sleep that night.

It’ll be a process, you had told her, but you knew in your heart you had already forgiven her.      

**********

You sat in one corner of the dining hall having lunch with the girls, the kitchen feeling a bit stuffy that day. You had been cooped up in there since five this morning, after spending the entire night there with Diana, making pasta. You needed to get out. Maria had come to you with an extra sack of flour from Ricky, the guy who came by every other month to barter his findings with the townsfolk, asking if the hall could indulge him by making pasta for him to keep that day. He milled the flour himself, the last of the season’s from his small farm. His wife had passed from illness a few months prior, and she used to make them for trade.

There was enough pasta left over for two trays of it when Ricky had taken his cut, and the tomatoes Liv planted were particularly juicy that week, so you decided to make some pasta for lunch, while the rest of the kitchen staff focused on garlic bread and salad.

You sat there as Maria rubbed your back, and Liv, Diana’s, the rolling and kneading the night before taking a toll on the two of you. You saw Joel, Ellie and Tommy walk in together, taking a helping of pasta and the sides, sitting down together, chit chatting before taking a bite of the pasta.

You saw Joel’s demeanour change. He stared at the simple pasta you made and began shovelling huge forkfuls into his mouth, his eyes closing, his free hand fisted on the table, head tilted back a little, very obviously enjoying the meal.

Something inside you recognized something that day. He had that pasta before.

Sometimes, when Bill was in one of his moods during Tess and Joel’s visits, he would refuse to cook for them, choosing instead to watch them from the upstairs window of your house. He would leave telling you and Frank about this decision of his to the last minute, so the quickest thing you could normally whip up was pasta. Joel would take a few helpings of them every time you served them, and sometimes, Frank would put some into Tupperware containers for him to take home.

You always figured he was another starving man who had just walked for hours to get there. Anything was good when you were hungry and tired.

You saw him say something to Ellie, who got up and ran out. She came back after a little while, two Tupperware containers in her hands, asking one of the kitchen staff to put some in there for her to take home. Joel got up and went to get himself a second helping.  It was only then a thought entered your head.

But your thoughts got interrupted.

“Oh, he likes pasta,” you heard Vanessa coo from the table next to yours.

Your jaws clenched as she made plans to get groceries from the grocery store after lunch, pasta, basil and tomatoes among them.

You made sure he didn’t see you and slipped out to go home.

**********

You had the day off that next day. You were spending the day helping Ike catalogue a box of new books for the school – one of the patrol teams found some, miraculously in good shape. Lucy came to send him his lunch, and asked if you could help her grandson Luke at the chicken coop for a few hours. The kind lady in charge he normally worked with was out with the flu, her husband was on patrol and the other lady who helped them had a sick child, and the poor boy, having just turned 12, was rather overwhelmed, scared of picking eggs since he got pecked a few weeks ago. You didn’t need coaxing – you needed to pick up the eggs for stock and distribution at the hall anyway.

Luke was a sweet boy, hardworking, polite, a testament to his grandparents who had raised him since he was only eight. His parents had gone out on patrol one day and never came back, leaving poor Luke an orphan overnight. Thank God for Ike and Lucy.

That day, he swept the coop while you fed the chickens, deciding to leave the egg picking for last. He had asked you to help him ‘get brave’ again, he wanted to keep working there, and he was worried that India, his boss, would ‘fire’ him. Ike liked an egg or two with his breakfast, and Luke was worried he had to go without if he was ever fired. You made a mental note to tell Ike and Lucy of his worries, the poor boy unaware that the eggs were distributed to everyone daily; India only gave him extras as payment for a job well done.

So after the daily chores were done, you coaxed Luke to the back of the coop where the chickens usually lay their eggs, opening the lowered roof to the area to collect them. Just your luck, the chickens were too busy elsewhere to bother the two of you that day, and you held the basket while Luke collected the eggs, gently placing them in the four massive baskets you had with you.

The small squeak of the chicken coop gate drew your attention. Luke pulled you down to hide, as he was taught since infancy, in case of an attack. You indulged him, peeking through the chicken wires to see who it was.

Joel Miller.

“He comes here a few days a week, checking the chicken wires. He replaced them when you guys first got here,” Luke whispered. “Watch, he always does this,” he said, as Joel looked around, checking no one was looking, before taking a familiar looking Tupperware container, one you had seen him receive from and return to a certain besotted married lady, hidden under his jacket, opening it, and hastily emptying the pasta inside into the chicken feed. He then hid the Tupperware again before pulling absent mindedly at different parts of the chicken wire, his head swivelling around the way it would when he’s surveying his surroundings, leaving right away, closing the gate behind him.

“He’s been doing that for weeks,” Luke told you. “I don’t know why he doesn’t just eat them,” he said. “India said maybe the food is bad, the chickens don’t really eat them. I have to sweep them away the next day.”

You don’t know why, but as you watched the chickens peck around the discarded pasta, you felt very, very happy.

**********

Maria didn’t want a usual baby shower. It wasn’t as if the girls could go shopping anyway. She was getting hand-me-downs from the women in town, baby clothes, bottles, the likes. Instead, she wanted a nice, ladies only, fancy tea party.

You groaned out loud at the thought.

It meant you had to dress up.

Shit.

You told the girls you might just stay in the kitchen… you didn’t own a dress… you didn’t want to spoil the aesthetic of the evening. Maria was legitimately talking about wearing a fascinator. You had to look up the meaning in a dictionary. But the girls just told you they would take you ‘shopping’. You were not getting out of this, lady!

Oh, dear God.

You grew up a tomboy. With two very, very typical ‘manly men’ big brothers whose idea of fun was practicing their wrestling moves against each other on you. Your Mama gave up on telling them to stop just about the time Benny decided to climb on a cupboard and perform a diving crossbody onto you who he had instructed to lay still on the mattress. You remembered that day clearly. She was screaming, eyes scrunched shut, thinking this was it, her baby girl was gonna die cause her brothers saw her as a practice dummy. But you had the mind to roll away as he jumped off, causing him to dislocate his shoulder.

It was the day your Mama found out she didn’t have to worry about you too much, even if it meant she had to take her youngest boy to the ER. Oddly enough, neither Will nor Benny ever tried that move on you again.

On the days you had to put on your Sunday best, you never wore a dress. When Frank found a gorgeous dress at the boutique and told you to have your first picks before storing the rest away for barter, you blinked at him for a good ten minutes while Bill, who had known you all of your life, roared with laughter at the idea of you wearing a dress, to the point where he couldn’t breathe properly. Frank gave up after that, though he did suggest that you might look good in one every once in a while if you gave it a chance.

So two days before the tea party, the girls dragged you to the warehouse, announcing to the ladies working at the clothes ‘department’ they needed to pull out the perfect dress for you. Ellie was there, being on warehouse rotation that week as her after school activity. She laughed along with the ladies at your mortification when several supremely girly dresses were presented to you for the occasion. She laughed so hard, you had a lightbulb moment.

“Hey Ellie, remember when I said you need to work for my forgiveness?”

She stopped laughing, but her face morphed into one of excitement at your question. She nodded enthusiastically.   

Well, well, well… who’s mortified now?

“You wear a dress to the party, make up, hair done, the works, and we call it even.”

Ellie froze at your words.

She looked stunned for a while, before turning to her friend Cat, asking her to take her ‘shopping’. Cat looked elated, pulling the teenager’s hand into a corner where the dresses for girls their age were.

Wow. She must really want your forgiveness.

But… that meant you needed to hold up your end of the bargain too. You took a deep breath and tried on the dresses, before choosing one and going home to wash it before the big party.

The day of the party came. You went to Liv and Diana’s to get ready, and they helped you get dressed, plastered some 20-year-old make up on your face, and styled your hair a bit. You felt like a ridiculous mannequin. There was too much breeze going up your legs. The dress was flowy, but the brisk summer night’s breeze was making them cling to your figure as you walked towards Maria’s. You went to Joel and Ellie’s first, having promised her you would pick her up – you two non-girly girls would face the shame of being seen in dresses for the first time together. Ride or die.

You didn’t need to knock, Ellie came rushing to open the door as soon as she heard your footsteps on the porch. She had her bathrobe on, but her hair was all styled up in some sort of a braided look, her eyes lined with eyeliners, and her lips with some really dark lipstick.

Cat and Dina were there, getting ready with her. They whistled when the saw you, grinning like Chesire cats at your grumpy face. They looked very pretty with their dresses on.

Ellie finally took her bathrobe off, standing there awkwardly, waiting for your approval. She had on a black dress, giving the whole emo look a new definition post outbreak.

“I saw those movies – the Addam’s family. I thought I could be Wednesday Addams for the night,” she said, sulking a little as you lost your composure and started looking like the darned cat yourself. When your shoulders started shaking from trying not to laugh, she laughed too. “Am I forgiven now, or what?”

You hugged her. She hung on to you, tight. “You look really pretty, Ellie,” you told her. “You’re forgiven.”

“Thank you,” she said. “You’re the only person I would ever wear a dress for, just so you know. Love you Elena,” she added, hugging you again.

“Love you too, BabyGirl.”

She looked up at you, delicate tears in her eyes, smiling, before hugging you again.

The door to the basement opened, and Joel came up, carrying parts of a crib into the kitchen. He had been working on it over the last couple of weeks, Ellie told you. It was his gift to the parents to be. He laid the parts on the kitchen island and shut the door, turning around to get the parts back to assemble when he spotted Ellie.

The teenager’s cheeks turned pink as her father figure saw her in a dress for the first time. He looked impressed, but trying to hold in a laughter at the same time.

“If you laugh, I will smother you with a pillow in your sleep, old man,” she said before he could let out the laugh. He immediately straightened his face, reducing the smirk into a smile, telling her she looked nice, giving her a side hug.

When he noticed you, though, the smile disappeared.

If Joel was trying to hide the fact that he was ogling you, he failed. Miserably so. He couldn’t even close his mouth, his eyes giving you a once over from head to toe. You found yourself feeling a lot warmer than you had ever felt in your life, looking for anywhere else to look but at him, pulling the shawl you had brought around your shoulders, as if it would lessen the warmth you were feeling, wishing you could disappear.

If he laughed at you…

“Doesn’t she look nice, Joel?” Dina said, a sly smirk on her face. Cat and Ellie had to turn away to hide their smiles.

Joel looked as if he had just realized the girls were there. His hand went to the back of his neck, his eyes averted, mumbling to himself before finally saying something to you.

“You… erm… you look… *clears throat* very good. Erm… very nice,” he blubbered, putting his hands in his pockets.

“Oh, come on Joel, she looks hot as fuck!” Ellie said.

“Language!” you and Joel chorused. Ellie rolled her eyes and went to open the door, beckoning to Cat and Dina to join her. You held the door open, waited for a flustered looking Joel to pick up the parts for the crib and went out the door before closing the door behind him, walking across the street as fast as you could, holding Maria’s door open for him to place the disassembled crib in the living room.

He chanced a glance or two at you before moving back to the door. As you made to close the door behind him, he turned and held the door from being shut.

“You really do, you know. Look hot… erm… beautiful… you look… really beautiful,” he managed to get out, eyes on the wooden dice necklace with your name carved into them around your neck.

God, Joel. Don’t hurt yourself trying to fake a compliment. You gave him a half-hearted smile and made to close the door again. He held the door still.

“I’ll, erm… I’ll see you back home?” he said, eyes shooting up to yours for a moment before looking at your bracelet, the one similar to your necklace. “Have fun tonight,” he said, before pulling the door shut.

Sheesh. Still had no clue you no longer lived there. Pfft. What a jerk.

It was only then that you noticed how quiet the house was, despite it being full of very nicely dressed, very chatty ladies. They were all staring at you, a teasing smile on their faces. Maria, Ellie, Liv and Diana looked as if Christmas just got there months early. Tommy just looked like he had a hanger stuck in his mouth.

For whatever reason, everyone looked super happy and excited to see you.

Everyone except Vanessa and Esther. Those two looked like you just killed their puppies. Vanessa huffed, put her drink down and rushed out. Esther turned away from you, muttering under her breath.

Tommy came to take the disassembled crib into the freshly painted nursery. He and Joel were going to get together the next day to assemble it, he told you as you helped him carry one piece upstairs.

“You and Joel… you’re talking again?” he asked.

You shrugged.

“You don’t have to worry, I didn’t tell him anything. Maria had to tell me, cause I suggested giving the studio to Jesse. He’s living alone in a four bedroom, you know, we could use the house should a family come in.”

You nodded. You didn’t know how to feel about him knowing you moved out, about him not telling Joel. One part of you was deeply hurt he still hadn’t noticed. But another part of you was definitely relieved. You turned to rejoin the party.

“Joel… he’s complicated,” Tommy offered. “He doesn’t hate you, Elena. Please know that. He’s just… I don’t know. But he doesn’t hate you. Just… give him time. He’ll come around.”

You gave him a smile, nodded a little and left.

What the fuck did that mean? Even when ‘complimenting’ you the man could hardly look you in the eyes. How the fuck else were you supposed to decipher that other than hatred?

You got downstairs and joined in on the merriment. You had to admit, you had a great time, although you did have to stop Ellie from taking her dress off in favour of the jeans and shirt she had managed to smuggle in. You watched as Maria opened packages with used items in them, tearfully thanking whoever they were from, despite knowing they were handed down to them in the first place. You kept thinking how different your life now was compared to a year ago, and how different this party was than it would’ve been if the world hadn’t gone to seed.

You were putting more sandwiches on the serving platter in the kitchen when Esther came in. She leaned on the counter, eyeing you as you did your task. You shot her a quick smile, asking her if she could pass the crackers that were just behind her.

As she did, she didn’t let go.

“Why is he so obsessed with you, huh?”

“Who?” you asked, puzzled.

“Oh, don’t play dumb with me. No single men in town has ever managed to resist me, save for Joel Miller. So what gives?”

You laughed disbelievingly. “I don’t know what you are talking about, Esther. But if he doesn’t want you, I have nothing to do with it. The man hates me,” you said, pulling the container of home made crackers from her hands, opening it and placing some on the platter.

She grabbed your hand instead, “Don’t play dumb with me, Elena. You have the man in a chokehold, and all I want to know is, how are you doing this when I’ve never seen you give him an ounce of attention.”

“Really, Esther, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you said, pulling your hand away from her. The bracelet snagged, and the dices with the alphabets to your name carved onto them clattered to the wooden floor.

Your heart went cold. Tears began to fill your eyes. Tess gave you that bracelet. Liv and Diana came in, asking you what was taking so long with the refill, only to panic seeing your emotional state, kneeling on the floor, searching for the dices, desperately trying to find them all to put back together. You could, right? You could find a string, or a piece of wire to string them back together?

Esther huffed out of there as soon as Diana gave her one of her dirty looks, the two sisters helping you look for the dices. But you had found them all. All seven pieces of the five dices, one of the Es and the A cloven into two from the wear and tear and impact from the fall.

You sat there, tears in your eyes, and suddenly the memory of Tess’s extremely delighted face as you put the bracelet on for the first time came flooding to your mind. This was not the first bracelet she gave you, there were three others, all simpler than this, but they had been damaged by time or wear, or in the case of the last one, an infected. She replaced them each time.

What you wouldn’t do to have her replace this one now.

**********

Joel sat on the couch facing the front door. It was almost 11, Tommy had come and gone. He was waiting for you and Ellie to come home. It was not often he had the time to sit around waiting like this. He was always either on patrol, or off fixing something, or down in the basement working on something or other; the crib, for the past two weeks.

He was nervous. Seeing you all dressed up like that fucked up with him big time. All his resolve, all his justifications for staying away from you disappeared, just like that. Tommy kept telling him someone was going to snatch you away one day, and he would regret acting the way he did. But he had always gone to his number one defence – denial. Why the hell not? He’s great at it. Been at it for 15 years. There was always a reason to extend the denial. Many, in fact. And being in an uncertain world, being on the road, among other things, were great rationalizations, he felt.

He's settled now, though. Took him a while to realize that, to feel completely safe, but he was. And he felt ready to maybe open up a bit. To you. Tell you things. Tommy knew, of course, and maybe Maria. Ellie, possibly, he didn’t really remember how much he told Ellie when he did. His mind was too clouded by the bottle of whiskey she had found for him to remember.

What he knew was, no one who knew had told you. If they did, you hadn’t cared enough to react to it. So, as he sat there, waiting for you to walk in through that door, he coaxed his thundering heart to be brave enough to ask you if you knew. He’s gonna start there. If you did, he’ll ask if you felt the same way, although to be perfectly honest, he’s probably not gonna want to know the answer. If you knew and did nothing, that was his answer right there.

But if you didn’t, he was going to tell you. Tonight. He was gonna tell you tonight.

He felt as if he was hot and cold and hot again all at the same time. He squirmed in his seat, feeling the butterflies in his stomach, feeling like he wanted to pee at all times, a cold breeze creeping up his back as he sat there listening to the goodbyes from across the street and the sounds of the ladies leaving for their respective homes.

Someone finally stepped on the porch, and Joel stood, hands nervously placed in his pockets. His stiff shoulders slumped when Ellie came in, tearing the black ribbons holding her hair in place as she shut the door behind her.

“Where’s Elena?”

“She’s helping Maria clean up.”

“She say what time she’ll be home?”

Ellie stood there, looking at him with frustration.

“Dude, she moved out like seven weeks ago. She doesn’t live here anymore.”

What? No. No you didn’t.

He ran upstairs and burst into your room, immediately clocking in the dusty floor and the open, empty closet. His body went cold. His head frozen.

He ran across the road, opening the front door without knocking, startling you and Diana who were picking up the last of the cups in the living room.

“You moved out?”

His eyes were on yours. Fixed on yours.

So, this was what it felt like to have Joel Miller look at you.

In that one minute of complete silence, you felt seen. He saw you. And you, him.

You had wanted this for 15 years. For Joel Miller to look you in the eyes and noticed you. And yet, here you stood, not knowing what to say to him, choosing instead to look at your own feet.

Your eyes found a compromise and you stared at the broken watch he wore instead of his eyes and nodded.

“Why?”

God, you were seething. Why? Was he serious? Was he really asking you why?

Why?

“Elena, what’s going on?” Maria’s voice interrupted you.

Before you could answer, a splashing sound disrupted the uncomfortable silence, and Maria looked at her feet in shock, before looking back up at you.

You, Diana and Joel stared at the puddle around her feet.

“Shit, I peed myself,” she said.

“No Maria, your water just broke. You’re in labour.”

---

Part 7

[sailorluna15]

Like Him by Tyler The Creator, but it's Azula and her family.

Azula being Lola Young's part of "Do I look like him?"

From Ursa's point of view, it's her seeing not only Ozai but herself in Azula. She sees how Ozai has infected Azula just like he infected her. She sees how she went from smiling like her, laughing like her, crying like her, dancing like her, singing like her, and even reading the same fairytale books she used to read as a child to imitating her father and abandoning everything that she loves and that's natural to please him.

Ozai sees himself in his daughter. He sees himself as a child in her. A calm, socially awkward child who struggles to make connections with others. A child who spends much time alone, drawing, painting, and playing make-believe. However, he also sees Ursa. When he sees Azula come home with two girls he doesn't know and look happier than she's looked in her entire life, it makes him envious. Seeing her sing, draw, and dance for her mother, cousin, brother, and friends makes him sneer. She doesn't need to do those things. Those things will do nothing but make her weak. He will make her strong. She doesn't need anyone but him. One by one, he chips away at her. Rubs poison on her gums and whispers curses into her ears. He exposes her to radiation and tells her symptoms are normal. He destroys her because she's more useful to him that way. She's more useful when she looks like Ozai than when she looks like Ursa.

Zuko stares at his sleeping child, and a memory flashes through his mind. He and Azula leaning on each other, sleeping soundly. He never thought in a million years that his daughter would come out looking like his sister. When Izumi smiles, laughs, gives attitude, dances, and shows repeatedly that she's quick as a whip, it reminds him of his sister. He wonders what life would be like if Ozai had been different. If Mom had been different. If Cousin hadn't died. If Uncle had taken her with him. If she had gone with them. If she'd had been more like a sister and less like an enemy. Even now, as their toxic relationship has turned into a weirdly close one, she refuses to come home. To return to her keeper. He tried bringing her to his chambers the first time she returned to the palace. She refused. He asks why, but she refuses to answer. He wants to push further, but she looks like she might break if he does, so he doesn't. He tries to get her to stay longer, as his daughter loves her newfound family member, but Azula pushes to go home. She pushes to go back home to the countryside with her wife. He lets her go and only sees her when his turtle duck dances to a concert of hers playing on the TV. Every time his turtle duck sees her Titi singing on stage, she asks when she's coming back to see her lovebug.

Mai gets a little jealous when she sees her old friend interacting with her new friends. She sees the little girl she became best friends with when she sees her with them. How she laughs, jokes, dances, and spends time with them reminds her of how they all used to be before Ozai. Fuck him. Why did Azula have to change? Why couldn't she stay the way she was. Funny, witty, protective, and kind in her own little way. Mai sees 'Zula in Azula. She wants to be friends with 'Zula again, but she doesn't know if they can ever return to that. She still harbors resentment and hate for the things Azula has done, but she still loves 'Zula. She always knew 'Zula was still in there somewhere, just hiding to keep safe. Azula's here because it's unsafe for 'Zula to be out. Azula protects 'Zula. Azula hurts others to protect 'Zula. Mai and Azula are cordial now. They laugh together about old times and about new things too, but Mai can tell it's not the same. Azula is always a bit guarded around all of them. She's protecting 'Zula. Mai guesses 'Zula doesn't feel safe around her anymore. It hurts Mai a little to know that Azula is the only version of 'Zula she'll ever see anymore.

Ty Lee is a little like Mai. She sees 'Zula, but she sees Azula more. She's happy Azula has changed, glad that 'Zula's. However, she can't help but wonder why she and Mai weren't enough. Why couldn't Azula change for them? She knows it isn't that simple. Azula was protecting herself the best way she knew how, but it still hurt to see her treat people she'd known since she was 16 better than people she'd known since she was 6. What's so special about them? Her new friends act protective whenever she and Mai are around. As if Azula needs their protection. As if they hurt Azula. She knows they fucked up with Azula, but Azula hurt them way more than they hurt her. They all agreed to let everything go. They both have apologized to each other and have shown growth, but things will never be the same. Azula won't even let Ty behind her. If she thinks Ty is behind her, she immediately turns around or maneuvers herself to where Ty Lee is in her line of sight. Ty Lee guesses it's only fair. Whenever Azula lights something on fire, Ty Lee creates a healthy distance and gets nervous. They're cool, but there are some things you can never forget.

This was supposed to be a little short but it got long. LEMME KNOW IF YALL WANT MORE.

[hovfire]

the question of ai in schools, much like any other hot issue in education, is an easy path to understanding the problems inherent to how we do things.

the easiest answer that i feel you would hear most often from those within education is that it constitutes cheating and academic dishonesty. if we can leave aside such moralisms, and we should, we can start thinking about the actual issues within the practices.

going a little deeper, you may hear an educator say something along the lines of "if the question can be answered by ai, it wasn't a well designed question." this is, largely, a sentiment i agree with. a question that can be answered sufficiently by scraped together data from around the web isn't going to provide anything useful to asker or the answerer. stopping here, however, characterizes students in the favorite form of cantankerous educators: lazy kids that will do anything to avoid work if allowed, requiring a firm handing and a greater mind to guide them to what they need. it is, to say the least, paternalizing.

so we shall go to the students. to the student it is a tool to be used, to save effort and time in an environment that taxes these things greatly. so, even if we presume perfect pedagogy on behalf of professors and teachers, we have a system driving students to use a tool that will only become more unreliable the further they stray from thoroughly sparknoted high school and college texts.

so what is the point of the system? if it is driving students to disengage and think about the things they are ostensibly studying less, what are we doing here? if our goal is education, guiding students to greater thinking about and understanding of the world, how is any of this helping? simply, it isn't. the professed goals of education only occasionally come close to the actual goals. were they aligned, the aims of both educator and student would become aligned and this whole debate, this struggle between the two parties, would dissolve. an education system driving by the desire of students to learn is the only path to this. it requires respecting the humanity of every student and perspective student

[interstellarsystem]

I'm A Skarmory

I haven't fronted in a bit, though I do come out here pretty consistently at least once every 6 months. But man it never gets less weird not aligning with the body's anatomy. And yeah I get it, most nonhumans don't align with the body they're stuck in! But I'm a skarmory, and I see a lot of quadruped experiences, but not much from avians. So I'm weighing in with my stuff!

My feet--my primary gripping tools aside from my beak--are now replaced with simple, hardly useful for holding onto anything, human feet. They're just flat. There's no claws on the ends of the toes and god DAMN are there way too many of them. I understand they're to walk with, but mine doubled as tools and weapons. I guess I can kick people here? It's nowhere near the same, though.

My leg bones are much too long and much too short in places. Walking in this body feels like I'm walking on what should be almost my ankle. It feels like my legs are even just bent in the entire wrong direction, sometimes--definitely a weird feeling!

And my wings are now replaced with... What I'd consider the human equivalent of what my feet were. Gripping tools! Except.... Almost where my wings should be?? Why are my talons where my wings should be? This especially confuses my brain, because it tries to map my phantom talons onto our hands, which leaves my lower half feeling like it shouldn't be there at all. My legs are where my body ends, so if my hands are my talons, then... Why is there more body down there? It's led to me feeling phantom talons on both my hands and my feet on more than one occasion which is definitely something that feels so strange.

One thing I like is that my skin is smooth still. Though it may be smooth, sure, unfortunately it's soft too. It squishes like something I'd have considered food back home--and it's easy to accidentally injure. My body before was polished and metallic, right down to the knifelike feathers. Now if I trip and fall I have to be worried about more than just a little dent or two? You're telling me I can be seriously injured from something so simple? I can't just shed the feather and grow back some more armour?

My mouth. Oh my god don't get me started on the mouth. It's the worst part to me. One, why is it squishy like that. Two, why is the hard biting surface INSIDE the squishy skin? That just lines up with it being all too easy to bite into my own lips or cheek. Three, the teeth are brittle in comparison to my beak anyway! I have to be careful of chipping a tooth and not eat anything ridiculously hard--whereas before my beak was basically a pair of scissors. Why do I all of a sudden need to be so so careful with it? Why is it shaped like that? Why is it so flat on my face?

The mouth being one of the things I used to hold things with in my memories also lends itself weirdly to human anatomy. I can't open it as far, so I can't hold items I'd normally consider easy to carry in it. But it's also not generally socially acceptable to carry things around in your mouth either, for some reason? My hands get full so the logical conclusion to me, is holding whatever's lightest and less likely to be damaged in my teeth! A lot of our system members carry things in their mouth anyway if it's convenient, regardless of the social stigma--but it's still weird to me that there is stigma about it.

Overall the body feels feeble and brittle in comparison to what I used to be. It's also distorted in such a way that my own phantom shifts are inconsistent with how they're arranged, so even when I get shifts it feels dysphoric. It's so weird! I don't necessarily mind having a human body but every time I come to front, it ends up throwing me off a lot more than just a little.

Life here isn't all that bad though, there's plenty of things I like here too. A lot of the lifestyle changes from before are nice, and I do actually like some parts of our body!

I like that we have a lot of fingers, in this body. My feet before only had 3 toes each, but having 5 fingers per hand is actually useful! It kinda helps fit more things with less likelihood of dropping stuff. I think the thumbs on these ones are a lot more useful than my feet were before, too--they're adaptable! Able to be used in all sorts of situations, not just grabbing things! I think that's cool. Like, I'm typing! Much faster than I'd ever be able to with my own beak or feet in my body--if metaphorical me knew how to type, that is.

I also like hair, even though everything on my body before was sharp or metallic. I just like the texture honestly--it's soft in a way that isn't all too dysphoric for me. It's a nice, like.. Stim toy, almost? Now that I think about it... Maybe I had fluffy down feathers between plates of armour to keep me warm? I haven't looked into it in all honesty. Not that the enjoyment of texture needs to relate back to me being a skarmory--just some pondering aloud.

I also definitely like that I don't have to be wild anymore. In headspace I can do what I want without fear of some predator who happens to know flamethrower coming up to me and deciding I'm a nice snack or I got too close to their territory. It's nice to be able to feel that in front too--the outerworld feels much more realistic to me and it's great to be able to feel alive and not constantly hunted.

Houses are cool, and so are beds. Having a bed and being able to make it all nice and comfy feels like nesting, to me. Where I would nest in thorns before to polish and harden my armour, this body nests in soft, fluffy things that protect us from getting injured by anything too hard. I think it's nice, actually--both I and this body nest in materials that match their body type! Kind of a cute little parallel.

I guess the conclusion I've come to after I've sat here rambling? Life is complicated, life is weird, but I'm here and I'm going to take as much joy out of living it as possible. Human body, skarmory body, doesn't matter. I'm here anyway, why not make the most out of it?

[icantalk710]

Looong day of catching up on emails and work to set myself up to be (mostly) on vacation as of xmas 😩☕😵‍💫

[dayurno]

[databent]

[pained wailing emoji]

[alexiroflife]

"tears"

fluff for the sukuna fans bc i've been in a soft sukuna mood

ryomen sukuna x reader

Synopsis: sukuna isn't a stranger to arguments with you, but when he catches you crying after a particularly harsh one, he finds himself scrambling to fix it... in his own way

to sum it up: sukuna is an asshole but he loves you, so he tries his best

WC: 3,296

Warning(s): a lil angst

You knew exactly what you were getting into when you first started a relationship with the infamous king of curses, but that didn’t mean it hurt any less when his tendency to be an asshole hurt your feelings. 

You know Sukuna isn’t a sentimental person who cares much for things like verbal reassurance, or consideration for the way the things he says can impact you, or anyone for that matter, but damn! Sometimes, he’s just too much of a jerk for you to handle, and Sukuna himself has no idea why your fragile human emotions sway you to be so affected by him. He doesn’t even think he’s said anything wrong the times in which you grow angry with him.

Now, Sukuna can handle your anger. Anger is good. Anger means that there is something he can react to, something he can tame or involve into your intimacies when he takes your mind off of silly arguments or subdues your attitude over what he deems to be small inconveniences. Anger is the only human emotion that he has felt himself in his many years of existence, so he knows what to expect. He understands it. He’s not, in the slightest, intimidated by it.

But what Sukuna finds he can not handle is the sound of your sniffles that resound from behind your door after you’ve just slammed it into his face. Sukuna angles his brows, pressing his ear to the door in confusion. Are you… cold? Coming down with a fever? What the hell are you sniffing your nose so much for?

Then he hears the meek gasps that intercept, the vocalization of pain that creeps into your weakened inhalations that accompany your damned sniffling. That’s when he realizes that you’re crying, and his pupils shrink slightly knowing that he has gone a little too far this time. 

Hell, how is he supposed to handle you crying? He can’t fuck your sadness away like he can with your irritation. He can’t mirror your sadness, since he has no clue what the hell it’s supposed to feel like. He can’t empathize with it either, for he has no idea what he could have done to bring tears to your eyes and empathy, well, it’s not in his vocabulary to begin with. It’s pathetic, he thinks, the way you have allowed him to bother you this much…

Yet it kills him to know that he’s the reason behind your tears.

He stands there for some time, unsure of what to do. Should he get Uraume to handle this? No, that may make things worse. You may want to be alone.

He turns to leave, but something stops him. He feels an ache in his chest, pressing his hand to his bicep. What the hell? What is this feeling?

He can still hear you crying, and somehow, it sounds like it’s getting worse, louder, or perhaps that is all in his head. He can no longer tell, but that sound you’re making is the only thing occupying his mind, and it’s ruining him. It’s making his chest tighten, his brow furrow, his lips press together tightly. He should leave, but he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to abandon you like this. 

Never once in his life has Sukuna felt remorse. Not even for all the times he has made you angry in the past when you two have had arguments. He is so quick to blame your reactions to things on your feeble human emotions. He is so quick to evade responsibility, or more so, refrain from guilting himself over the things he is responsible for. He is so quick to dismiss you, but it’s always fine because he has never witnessed you grow sad over his behavior, not until now.

Sukuna turns back to your door slowly. His hand flies to grab the handle to throw the door open, but he hesitates. He’s unsure of what’s happening to him, for he’s never hesitated before in his life. This, you crying, him second guessing himself, it’s all so new and he hates it. He needs to fix this immediately. 

What do you humans like when you are upset? There’s a word that’s slipping his mind, one he always hears you pester him for but turns down repeatedly. He had found the concept so irrelevant that he hadn’t even bothered to recall what it’s called.

He crosses his arms and stares ahead harshly in thought, then it comes to him. An apology! Yes, that’s what it is. But of course, you can’t expect him to verbalize such a thing. You must want something as a gift. A physical representation of his desire not to see you cry. He rushes off to locate Uraume for preparations.

About an hour later, you’re curled up on your bed and facing the wall with a blank stare. Your tears stopped a while ago, and since you hadn’t heard from Sukuna, you assumed he just didn’t care about your feelings. Like always.

“Oi,” a gruff voice through the door startles you. You jump and turn over, curling your brows in confusion at the sound of Sukuna’s voice. For a moment, you don’t believe he is speaking to you, so you wait some time to see if he will speak again. “I know you can hear me in there,” his voice sounds again, and you groan.

“Go away,” you tell him, flipping back over.

Sukuna, on the other side of the wall, clicks his tongue in agitation. “Quit your pouting and come open this door.”

“No. Until you learn how to treat me better, I don’t want to see you.”

Treat you better? Sukuna doesn’t understand this nonsense. You live in his large estate, you’re pampered by servants, showered with gifts and homemade meals, you sleep by his side every night, and he allows you to disrespect him far more often than he should. Not to mention, he has his arms full of presents at this very moment that are preventing him from opening the door himself. How can he possibly treat you any better than he’s already treating you?

He growls lowly and closes his eyes in irritation. “If you open the door, your mood will improve.”

“I don’t want anything other than what I just said.”

Sukuna’s eye twitches. Why are you so damn difficult? “What is your-”

“Go. Away.”

Oh. Alright, then. 

You sit up abruptly when Sukuna’s foot breaks in the door with a loud crash. You stare with wide eyes, the door, now off its hinge, creaking open weakly to reveal the king of curses with his arms full of several bouquets of flowers.

“What the fuck, Sukuna?!” you cry. He only stares frustratedly as he walks into the space univinted.

“This was going to go on for too long if I hadn’t done something,” he says, approaching the side of your bed.

“You can’t just- fuck! What is wrong with you?”

Okay… this is already going poorly. 

This is not the reaction he had desired from you, and perhaps he should have revisited the idea of kicking in the door, but he had been growing impatient. Despite his big talk, he doesn’t like when you speak to him in such a cold way. He doesn’t like being separated from you. He doesn’t like not being able to see your face, and after all the work he has just done to collect these plants for you, he can not tolerate being turned away. 

“Must you be so dramatic?” he tsks. “Do you not see what I have brought to you? Don’t you humans like these things?”

You stare at him incredulously, mouth agape. Sukuna can see the tear stains clear on your face, and his heart clenches again. God, why is that sight so abominable? 

He holds his arms out, presenting the flowers to you as if you could have possibly missed them. “They are yours. Take them and be done with this.”

“Be done with what, Sukuna?” you shake your head, face scrunched.

“With your tantrum- your tears, and the sniffles. Be done with them now. Here.”

You scoff. “Do you even know why you're giving these to me?”

Sukuna raises a brow. “To cease your tantrum. As I just said.”

“I can’t with you sometimes, Sukuna. Honestly.” 

“This is really the thanks that I get for bringing you these damn flowers? I thought you were supposed to like things like this. Why would you make me waste my time?”

“If you think it’s a fucking waste of time to bring me flowers, then there’s your problem right there,” you raise your voice, pointing at him accusingly. Sukuna’s face hardens. He thinks you’re getting angry again, but he can still see the sadness behind your eyes. You look almost… defeated. “And if you knew me at all, you’d know that I never cared about any of that stuff. I never cared about the flashiness or the gifts or whatever the fuck.”

Sukuna lowers his hands, letting the bouquets drop carelessly to the floor. “Now you are accusing me of not knowing you?” he seethes. “I’m not sure when you decided that it was acceptable for you to speak to me this way, but I will not tolerate it. I do nothing but dote on you, you ungrateful brat.”

“Yeah, sure, you dote on me, and then you turn around and berate me and call everything I feel stupid because you don’t care to even try to understand why some of the things you say are not okay!”

Sukuna walks closer to invade your personal space, leaning in to glare angrily at you as you do the same. This is what he knows. This is what he chooses to respond to. Not the curl in your brow, not the tremble of your lips, not the unsteadiness of your voice, but your anger. “Why should I care if all you do is whine,” he grumbles. 

You clamp your mouth shut as a lump forms in your throat. Sukuna watches you unravel before him, and while he tries to keep an unmoved expression, he is internally panicking when he sees your eyes gloss over again and your nose flare. 

Shit. He’s supposed to be making you feel better. How has he gone and made things worse again? Why is he incapable of understanding how to be what you want him to be?

You take in a trembling inhale as your hands clench and unclench at your sides. You don’t want him to see you cry. You don’t want him to call you weak, but you can’t help the tear that breaks past your lashes and dashes down your cheek, a physical display of your heartache. 

Sukuna’s crimson eyes fly to the tear, and his brows smooth out against his intent. 

Shit. Shit. Shit.

You’re crying again, and it’s his fault. It’s always been his fault. What is this now that he’s feeling? Regret? Shame? Is that what is clawing at his chest and stripping him of his resolve? Making him wish to replay this entire interaction so that you do not appear before him with tears in your eyes once more? Is this what it is to fall? 

You rub angrily at your eyes and huff, turning away from him and plopping back down on your bed, back facing him. You shut yourself away, close yourself off, and deprive Sukuna of your pretty face for the second time today. “Just leave me alone. You’ve made it perfectly clear that you don’t give a fuck about me or anything, for that matter.”

Sukuna’s eyes widen slightly with the deepening of his frown. That ache he has felt in his chest spreads throughout his body, serving as tension in his back, head, and shoulders. You think he doesn’t care for you? What nonsense. You’re the only being on this planet who has made a millennia of existence worth living, and you think he doesn’t care?

Sukuna can not even pin the blame onto you this time around. He can not accuse you of overreacting, nor can he evade such a thing that is so clearly his doing. He has made you feel uncared for, and while his temper may get out of hand, and his inability to fully comprehend the plagues of the human mind gets in the way, and he never tells you that he loves you, making you feel unloved is the last thing he ever meant to do. 

“Hey,” he mumbles, but you do not move. You cling to yourself for comfort because you do not believe he can provide any for you. “Brat-” he starts, but rethinks. He reaches his hand out to you. “(Y/n). Enough of this.”

“I don’t want to see you right now, Sukuna. Can’t you respect at least that for once?” you croak. 

His hand freezes and he lets it fall. Respect. Understanding. That is what you want from him, and he has not been giving it to you. He has not been giving you anything that you request of him emotionally, for that matter. He has been neglecting your mental needs whilst overpowering you with the physical, and it’s drawn you away from him. 

He could force you to get up. He could drag you by your hair to his bedroom. He could make you look him in the eye, make you stay with him, make you stay silent about this from this point on and forever more. Sukuna has the power and the authority to do so…

But the idea is not appealing. Not in the slightest.

Sukuna wants you happy. He wants you to want to be with him willingly, and if he ignores your consent now of all times, it would be like throwing away the life he has built with you. Throwing away your desires, and Sukuna does not long for a world in which you are any more uncomfortable than you already are. 

He takes a step back, looking over the flowers that he has dropped, and accepts the will of the mortal he fell in love with. 

“I will be in my chambers if or whenever you wish to see me,” he says lowly, giving in. He moves to leave but stops himself once more. He never had stopped himself this much before. “...I apologize for making you cry. I will send someone to fix your door immediately.”

Sukuna is well on his way when he hears you shuffling behind him. He turns, admittedly hopeful for your reaction, and finds you peeking in confusion over your shoulder. “...What did you just say?” you whisper.

The king of curses stalls, looking directly into your eyes from across the room. He feels suddenly… weak. Vulnerable. For the first time, he has relented his power for you to take hold of, and it feels strange to say the very least. “Do you wish for me to repeat myself?”

You sit up slowly, turning around. You knuckle at your red nose, watching him suspiciously. “I do. I may have misheard you.”

He studies you for a moment until he realizes that you are being facetious. “You heard me the first time.”

“Maybe I just want you to say it again.”

Sukuna sighs heavily. “I did not intend to make you cry, nor did I intend to make you feel as though I do not care for you. That is a foolish thought, but I understand I do not convey the depth of my feelings for you the way you wish me to convey it.”

You look dumbfounded as you stare at him in silence. Sukuna clicks his tongue, unsure of how you are going to respond. 

“Quit staring at me and say something, woman.”

“I just… never thought…” you trail off, swallowing harshly. “I never thought you would ever say something like that to me.”

“You will only hear me say such things when you are- when I’ve made you unhappy,” he clarifies firmly. Your nose twitches, an involuntary movement that Sukuna catches and finds entirely too adorable. Your eyes are still damp, but your breathing has evened out. 

“That’s the first,” you quip.

“Enough.”

You press your lips together, glancing at the flowers Sukuna brought you. Just then, you notice that they are your favorite. 

You tell yourself you knew what you were getting into when you first started dating the king of curses, but at times you forget that Sukuna is in fact a demon, and a king at that. He does not believe in any better than what he is.

“You hurt my feelings, Sukuna,” you say softly. “Don’t you get what that means? At least for me?”

“No,” he responds honestly. “But I do see now that you have different needs. And I understand that I refuse to watch you cry if there is something I can do about it.”

You try to remain angry with him. You try to keep yourself distanced, but you can not help the way that you are softening, and Sukuna notices. A hint of a smirk curves at the corner of his lips. 

“Is that all I had to say to make this better?”

“Shut the hell up,” you hiss. “It wouldn’t have killed you to apologize for the hundreds of other times we’ve fought, you know.”

“You weren’t crying the other times, woman.”

“It doesn’t matter,” you roll your eyes. 

Sukuna tilts his head, placing a hand on his hip. “You’re not still upset, are you?”

“Yes,” you pout, and he catches on.

“What is it you want now, to be pampered like a spoiled brat?” 

He makes the suggestion as if to offend you, but the two of you both know that he is hardly making a joke. “What I want is for you to fuck off.”

A chuckle rumbles in Sukuna’s throat as he makes his way over to you. You immediately break and screech when he yanks you forward by your ankle and loops you up into his arms before sitting down on your bed and setting you in his lap. 

He looks you dead in the eye and lifts a rough thumb, swiping stubbornly at your tear stains and your damp lashes. “Crybaby,” he mutters, and you swat his hand away.

“Whatever, asshole.” You push at his chest with weak contempt and he looks at you boredly.

“You’re pitiful,” he grumbles, gripping your chin securely and guiding it to him. His blood red eyes seep into yours, gazing intently. “No more tears, do you understand?”

“Then don’t make me sad.”

“I won’t,” he tells you confidently.

A smile twitches on your lips as you look over him, completely unfamiliar with this side of the king of curses. “Can you do one more thing for me, and then I’ll maybe think about forgiving you?” you bite your lip, pressing your finger to his broad shoulder.

Sukuna grunts. “More demands, huh? I suppose you know how to take advantage of a situation. What more do you want?”

You wrap your arms over his neck. “Tell me how much you care about me,” you sing. 

“Did I not just do so?”

“No, I want you to spell it out. Tell me you love me.”

“I highly tolerate you.”

“Tell me you loveeee me.”

“You are the only human being I do not frown upon.”

“Sukuna.”

“Christ, woman, you’re mine. Isn’t that enough?” he grits his teeth and you snort, patting his cheek gently. 

“For now.”

“Such a pest, you know that?” he mumbles, pushing in swiftly to press his lips firmly to yours in a swift peck. “Don’t ever say I don’t care for you again. It is the most false and offensive thing I have ever heard."

[sceletaflores]

I COULD PLAY THE DOCTOR (I CAN CURE YOUR DISEASE)

pair: logan howlett x fem!reader

wc: 4.1k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, swearing, established relationship, logan's pov, written with origins!logan in mind, nat veering dangerously closer to a/b/o territory with every passing day, rut cycles, oral sex (fem!receiving), fingering (fem!receiving), multiple orgasms, gratuitous amounts of dirty talk, p in v, rough sex, biting, hair pulling, size kink, belly bulging, pussy pronouns, one (1) single use of the word daddy, scent kink, pain kink, breeding kink ofc, knotting (don’t look at me…), squirting, porn w/ plot, no use of y/n.

nat’s note: don’t look at me…i don’t know how many times i swore up and down i’d never write something like this but i’m a confirmed liar apparently so…here. i mean i just figured i'm in a rut artistically so therefore the only answer is writing logan in a rut physically...i can do what i want and i don't need to explain myself or my horny thoughts. also, i debated posting this in the wake of everything that's gone down over the past two days that is still escalating and will continue to escalate in the coming weeks, but i think everyone could use a little escape from how scary things may seem right now. take a break from all the terrifying news sites and read about logan wanting to breed you :) kisses!

divider by angel @saradika-graphics!

it's been another six months, and logan needs your help...

The burn starts on the walk home from work, a pulse of heat deep in Logan's gut that grows with every step.

It spreads slowly, sinking into his muscles and seeping up his spine as he rounds the last corner, your place less than a block away now.

It caught him off guard this time, an itch burying itself under his skin earlier in the day only to get worse and worse as he worked.

He usually knew the signs well enough to feel them start creeping in, and he was dead sure it wasn't for another few weeks.

Apparently, he was wrong.

Logan’s jaw clenches as he picks up his pace, every nerve ending in his body straining to break into a full blown sprint at the thought of you, all alone and waiting for him.

His fingers curl into tight fists, nails pressing into his palms to ground himself, though it’s hardly enough. The faint scent of you drifts up from his shirt, not even a long day at the lumberyard enough to drown it out.

By the time he reaches your door, his heartbeat is a heavy thud in his ears, syncing with the building ache of desire wracking through his body like the earth rattling boom of a raging thunder storm.

He fumbles through getting his key into the lock, hands unsteady as he tugs the door open with a little more force than necessary and finally steps inside.

The second he closes the door behind him, the heat surges, thrumming through his veins and flooding his chest. Your scent fills the air completely, stronger now, wrapping around him so thick and sweet.

"Darlin'?" His voice comes out rougher than he intends, but he's beyond caring.

Your voice floats from the other room, casual, warm enough to send a jolt through him. Logan drops his axe from his shoulder, leaning it against the door as he starts down the familiar path to your bedroom.

You're spread out on his side of the bed—oblivious, curled up with a book, wrapped in one of the flannels he must have left the last time he stayed over.

Just the sight of you does something to him, like a match dragged against a strike pad, damned on setting everything ablaze.

You glance up, and the soft smile on your lips falters as you catch sight of him.

Logan knows what he must look like, his eyes all dark and predatory, chest heaving as he rakes his hungry gaze over you like a wolf watches a lamb grazing too close to its den.

He doesn’t say anything at first, just stalks toward you with a purpose that’s as undeniable as the heat pouring off him in waves.

The book slips from your fingers, forgotten, as you lean back, the small sound of your breath hitching under the weight of his gaze is music to his ears.

Logan pauses at the edge of the bed, towering over you, letting himself drink in the way you look. So soft and serene, like some kind of invitation that begs him closer. His flannel draped loosely over your shoulders–shrouding you in his scent. 

The urge to pounce on you fights against his normal instinct to savor every second, to draw it out until the heat pooling in his gut becomes downright unbearable.

“Been thinkin’ about you all damn day,” he mutters, voice thick and dark as molasses, rough from restraint he’s quickly losing. His knuckles brush against your thigh, then tighten, holding you in place as he leans down, his breath hot against your neck. “Thinkin’ about what I was gonna when I finally got my hands on you.”

Your skin blooms with warmth beneath his touch, and he grins against your neck, the edge of his teeth grazing you just enough to make you squirm. He growls low in his throat, that itch he’s been fighting nearly all day clawing its way up to the surface with a vengeance.

The primal urge inside of him screaming to claim claim claim take take take mate mate mate breed breed breed.

You tilt your head to the side with a soft sigh, freeing up more space for him to nose along your skin. “Is it time?”

Logan's breath catches as your question hangs in the air, thick with anticipation. The soft simplicity of it ignites the wildfire burning in his gut, every ounce of restraint slipping away like sand through his fingers.

“Yeah, baby,” he growls, slipping his fingers under the worn cotton of your shorts, feeling the bare skin beneath. “It’s time.”

You shift, hands going to the buttons of his flannel like you’re going to take it off. Logan stops you, taking your wrists in his free hand.

“Don’t,” he breathes, shaking his head hard enough that his hair flows with it. “Leave it on.”

The thought of you covered in his scent, of his scent mixing with yours to claim you on a level only he can discern sends his mind buzzing.

You look up at him with those wide, trusting eyes, and something in him cracks wide open. The tenderness of your gaze pulls at him, like a tether pulling him back from the edge, but that heat still smolders in his blood, fierce and unyielding.

Logan runs his thumb along the racing pulse of your wrist before he drops them. His hands venture lower, fingers pressing against the inside of your thigh, tracing a deliberate path that makes your body tremble under his touch.

You let out a shuddering breath, the scent of your arousal swirling through the air is enough to make him crave more.

In one rough tug, Logan yanks you towards the edge of the bed as he falls to his knees. Your hips held tight in his hands as he lurches forward, burying his nose in the soft junction where your leg and inner thigh meet.

He inhales deep, greedy lungfuls of your scent. A guttural growl rumbles through his chest, his eyes screwing shut at the sheer amount of too much that courses through him. He feels dizzy with it, high on the pheromones pumping from you in waves.

You’re soaked already, the wet fabric of your shorts melded to the shape of your cunt. He can’t help but run his nose along the slick seam of you, reveling in the way your legs twitch on either side of his head, in the short gasp you let out.

“Logan.” Your voice is nothing but a mewl, pleading and desperate.

“Missed you,” he rasps, his voice rough, almost unrecognizable. The edge of need in him makes his hands shake, sliding up your thighs, urging them even further apart as he settles between them.

Logan’s fingers dig into your skin, he lets his thumbs brush up, hooking them into the waistband of your shorts to tug them down your legs in one sharp yank. He groans at the sight of you completely bare, no underwear.

“Fuck, look at you,” he grates, his thumb coming down to slip through your dripping cunt. Your hole flutters desperately around him, needy little clenches like it’s trying to suck him in. “She’s all ready for me, huh? Been waiting for me to come home and give her some attention?”

“Please,” you whimper, your voice thick with longing, the sound going straight to his head, clouding his thoughts. 

Logan’s pulse races as he watches your body arch instinctively toward his touch, the desperate need in your eyes igniting the raw urges coursing through him.

He can’t deny you; he never could. You’re a feast laid out before him, and he’s starving.

Logan leans closer, letting his tongue flick out to taste you like he’s wanted to since he left for work this morning. 

“Fuck,” he breathes, closing his eyes and losing himself in the moment. He licks a broad stripe from your entrance to your clit, savoring the way your body responds, the way your legs tremble and your hips twitch against his mouth, seeking more. “Tastes like fuckin’ heaven, sweetheart.”

The taste of you is intoxicating—sweet and tangy, flooding his senses with every drag and swirl of his tongue.

Logan can’t help but moan against you, the sound vibrating through your body as he dives deeper, his nose nudging against your slick entrance as he shakes his head back and forth like an animal—rubbing the plush skin of your inner thighs red and raw with each rough drag of his coarse beard.

Every flick of his tongue sends a shockwave through you, and he revels in the sounds you make—each whimper, each moan, a siren’s call urging him deeper. He laves his tongue around your clit, sucking it gently, pulling at it with his lips as you writhe beneath him, begging for more. 

He keeps your thighs spread wide, two strong hands pinning them to the mattress so he can devour you just the way you deserve, the sharp dig of your heels into his shoulders only spurs him on.

Your hands bury themselves in his hair, tugging him closer, and he groans into you, letting his tongue delve deeper, seeking out every bit of sweetness he can coax from you. 

It’s pure sin, each sound you make, each shiver that runs through you as he takes his time, drinking you down like a man starved. 

The ache in him intensifies, his own need growing, pulsing. He’s hard, has been hard since he walked through the front door.

His cock strains against the zipper of his jeans, need pulsing in time with each pump of his blood through his shaft, circling around the base, threatening to expand even without the tight grip of your pussy surrounding him. His hips jerk up on their own volition, desperate for any friction.

“Just like that, Logan,” you gasp, voice breathy and trembling with pleasure. 

The way you say his name—raw, desperate—makes his blood run hotter. He grips your thighs tighter, anchoring you to the bed as he drinks you in, wanting to lose himself in you completely.

Logan pulls away just long enough to catch his breath, looking up at you with lust-drunk eyes, drinking in the sight of your sweaty cheeks, your heavy-lidded gaze, the way your chest rises and falls with each shuddering breath.

The pulse of his cock intensifies, urging him to speed things along. The base desire of his own instincts is getting harder and harder to ignore under your adoring stare.

He feeds his fingers into your clenching hole with no warning, a satisfied smirk tugging his lips up at your sharp gasp. He runs his tongue along his bottom lip, the entire lower half of his face still shining with your essence.

Your cunt swallows him, two thick fingers sinking into the velvety heat like it’s nothing.

Logan groans as he feels you clench around him, your walls fluttering and drawing him in deeper. “That’s it, baby,” he mutters, his voice hoarse with need. “So fuckin’ ready for me, so ready for daddy’s fingers in your pussy.”

Your mouth drops open in another devastatingly desperate noise, your hands twist his hair roughly, soft breasts rising and falling each time you gasp for air. The dim light of the sunset filters in through the blinds, highlighting the curves of your body, slick and shining with a thin sheen of sweat.

Every clench of your walls around his fingers shoots a thrill straight to his cock, making him ache with the urge to bury himself inside you. The overwhelming need to take you completely, to mark you and fill you, pulses through his veins until he feels like he might explode.

But he’s not done tasting you yet. Not until you’re practically dripping onto the sheets.

He lowers his mouth back to your core, sucking your clit into his mouth as his fingers pump faster. The sudden intensity makes your thighs shake around his head, and he grins against you. He wants to see you fall apart—wants to feel it.

“Logan—please, I…” You can barely get the words out, voice breaking as your whole body strains against him, desperate and needy.

The wet slap of his palm against your spit soaked cunt is loud in the quiet of your bedroom, blending with the loud keens that fall from your parted lips. He crooks his fingers, rubbing at that soft, spongy spot inside of you.

“Come on,” he mutters, slick lips brushing against your clit as he speaks. “Give it to me, baby. Show me you're ready for my cock."

He drags the sharp edge of his canine against your pulsing clit with barely any pressure, and you're coming.

Your whole body tenses, back bowing off the mattress as you let out a broken cry of his name. The bite of your nails digging into his scalp feels harsh enough to draw blood, a feeble attempt at grounding yourself against the onslaught of pleasure. 

Your trembling thighs tighten around his shoulders, gripping him like a vice as your shaking cunt gushes around his fingers. Logan groans at the feeling, eyes slipping shut as you drench his wrist and chin in your juices.

Even then, he doesn’t let up, fingers pumping relentlessly as he draws out every pulse, every aftershock of your climax, every tiny spray of your release splashing against his wrist. 

He’s lost in the feel of you—slick and trembling under his hands, the scent of your release filling his lungs, thick and intoxicating.

You slump back against the bed, body limp and spent. His own need is a driving, aching force now, clawing at his insides, demanding more.

He slips his fingers free from your dripping heat, dragging them through the wetness coating his chin as he licks them clean with a growl, savoring every taste.

“Good girl,” he purrs, voice thick with pride and satisfaction as he pulls back, leaving your thighs twitching in the wake of his touch. But he still isn’t finished. Not even close.

You barely have time to catch your breath before Logan crawls up the bed, his eyes locked on you, pupils blown with need. He looms over you, hands planting on either side of your head. His cock grinds against you through the rough denim, and you can feel just how thick and hard he is, throbbing through the fabric, demanding to be freed.

With a low groan, he shifts his hips, dragging his bulge along your soaked cunt, sending another jolt of pleasure racing through you. His hands are all over you, gripping your waist, hot and possessive.

“Feel that?” he asks, pressing his lips the wild flutter of your pulse, the need to sink his teeth in the soft skin of your neck raises the hair on the back of his neck. “That’s what you do to me baby. Got me hard as a fuckin’ rock, just aching to be inside you.”

Your arms circle his shoulders, clawing at the fabric off his shirt. “Need you inside me, Logan. Please, want it so bad.”

The pure need lacing your words, your scent calling out to him, the way he can feel the front of his jeans getting soaked through with the slick pouring from your cunt all pull him deeper into the recesses of his hind-brain. 

The mounting desperation to stuff you full of his cock finally reaches a fever pitch.

With a deep growl, Logan rears back as far as he can bear, just enough to tear his shirt over his head before he fumbles with the heavy buckle of his belt to free his aching cock.

He shoves his jeans down, boxers quickly following until there’s nothing separating him from the cool air of your bedroom. His cock springs free, hot and flushed an angry red color, drooling from the tip enough that it drips down to stain the pretty floral sheets of your bed.

Your eyes zero in on him, mouth dropping open at the sight. His cock so heavy it doesn’t curve upward to slap against his stomach, instead it hangs down to sway between his thighs as he moves closer. 

Your legs spread as he nears, slick covered thighs parting to make room for him to slot between them. So obedient, so good, so well trained.

Logan takes himself in his hand, nearly wincing at the blazing temperature of his skin. He secures his hand around the base, squeezing where his knot threatens to pop before he’s even got in you.

He slips the angry head through the folds of your cunt, slapping it against your clit with a wet ‘thwack’ sound. He can feel the way it twitches and shakes, just as desperate as him.

“Look at that,” he mutters darkly, eyes glued to where he’s laid his cock flat against your stomach, leaking pre-come all over your soft skin. “How’s it gonna fit, baby?” He shifts his hips, sawing his length back and forth to see just how deep in you he’ll be.

Your glassy eyes drop, a broken moan passing through your slack lips when you take in the sight. Your hips rise off the bed, grinding your cunt along the seam of his heavy balls, along the prominent vein trailing up the underside.

“Don’t worry, baby,” Logan grits out, eyes hooded and dark as he watches you grind against him. “You’re gonna take it all. Gonna make you feel every last fuckin’ bit of me.”

He groans, gritting his teeth as he presses in further, each inch a battle against the tight, molten heat that grips him like a vice. Your body shudders as he fills you, your slick warmth pulling him deeper and deeper, and he sinks down until he’s fully seated, his hips flush with yours. 

The pressure is mind-numbing, your walls clenching around him in rhythmic pulses that make his vision blur. He stills for just a second, savoring the way your body stretches around him, hugging him in a way that feels like it was made for him alone.

Logan watches your face as you adjust to the stretch, your brows pinched together, each breath coming fast and shallow, your eyes glazed with pleasure.

Then, your hands come to his shoulders, nails digging little crescent moons into his skin as you nod your head, ready.

It’s all the confirmation he needs. His hips pull back before he slams in again, the force of it jolting your whole body. He presses his forehead to your shoulder, teeth bared as he muffles a snarl against your skin.

Logan thrusts again, and again, and again, hips setting a merciless pace as he watches the way your breasts bounce with each thrust, each little shudder.

His mouth waters with the need to taste, to sink his teeth into your supple skin hard enough to pierce clean through, hard enough to scar.

Sweat drips down the length of his spine, across his brow. It mats down the hair scattered over his chest, his dog tags slick with it when they bounce off his skin with each thrust. The grip of his hands tightens on your hips, it’s taking everything in him to hold back and yet he knows you’ll still bruise tomorrow. 

Pretty hues of dark purples and yellows in the shape of his fingers, ones he’ll catch you admiring in the bathroom mirror, pressing your own fingertips into them to feel the dull ache—to remember this moment.

“Made for this, aren’t you?” he rasps, his voice dark and possessive. “Made to take me, to be mine.”

The words barely leave his mouth before he’s bending down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your cries as he drives into you, pushing you both closer to that sweet edge.

“Fuck, Logan,” you gasp, breaking the kiss as your body trembles under him. “Can–ah!–can feel you in my stomach…”

Your hand drops from his shoulder, slipping between your bodies to rest over the sweaty expanse of your belly. Logan’s eyes follow your path, a feral growl bursting from his chest before he can stop it.

He’s transfixed by it, sure that if he pressed his hand to the soft skin of your lower stomach right over your own, that he’d feel it. Feel the way his cock punches up against your insides, so deep it's like he’s rearranging your guts to make room.

“Fuck.” His voice is nothing but a gravelly rumble, hoarse and dark as midnight. His hips speed up impossibly faster, chasing the feeling of your clenching walls choking the length of his cock so tight he thinks it might snap off at the base.

The flimsy headboard of your bed slams against the wall, creaky mattress springs screaming under his ministrations.

You feel like salvation, like the first rays of light after too many years spent in the dark.

He feels it with each kiss of his cock against your cervix, in the way your lips fit in the junction of his neck, in the red welts your nails leave on the skin of his back. He feels alive, truly alive, for the first time in decades.

“Say my name,” he grates, his hand cupping the back of your neck, coaxing you to look up at him, lips close enough to taste the heat radiating from his skin. “Tell me who you belong to.”

"Logan," you gasp, your voice breathy, edged with desperation as he pushes you closer to the brink. "Yours. Only yours."

A broken, shaky noise falls from his lips as he buries his face in your neck. He mouths at your skin desperately, presses his nose to where your scent is the strongest. 

Flashes of his release spraying your insides play behind his closed eyes, thoughts of drenching you so thoroughly that it has to take only forcing his hips to slam against the rippling muscle of your ass like you have your own magnetic pull. He feels it building, the slow swell of his knot presses against your folds, ready to burst.

“Come on, honey,” he begs, thumb coming down to rub slow circles over your slick clit. “Come with me, soak my cock. Show me how much you love it, how much you love me.”

Pathetic little uh uh uh’s fall from you with every thrust, broken up only by the breathy whines of his name as he pounds into you hard enough to push your body higher up the mattress. Finally, with a loud roar, he stuffs his growing knot inside of your cunt. 

Logan’s teeth sink into your neck before he can even think twice about it, the thick spray of his come filling you as his hands pull your hips down even further over his cock. He needs to be as deep in you as possible, to press forward until he can’t anymore, until his aching balls are flush with your gushing cunt.

He watches with rapt attention as you come with a loud wail, just from the feeling of his knot slotting into place. The clamp of your thighs over his hips is nearly as tight as the way your cunt seizes around him like it’s scared he’ll leave.

He groans at the over stimulation of your cunt milking his cock. Your slick leaks around the base of him, your shaking hole plugged so full it can only slip along the creamy ring to splash weakly against his thighs and hips.

Logan licks along the spot where his teeth pierced your skin, planting one last kiss before he’s taking you in his arms and rolling onto his back atop the mattress. The plush comforter sticks to his skin, your own sweaty body slipping against his as he tries his best to not jostle you too much while keeping you stuffed full of his cock.

He holds you to his chest until your breathing evens out, until your body stops trembling on top of his, until you’re nosing along the column of his neck.

“Logan?” Your voice is tiny, hoarse and scratchy. He feels your hand drawing absent minded shapes along the skin of his stomach. A circle, a star, a figure eight, a heart.

“Yeah baby?” he says, pressing his lips to the crown of your head, eyes slipping shut at the content feeling that spreads through him.

“Love you,” you murmur, voice soft but sure, the words slipping out without hesitation.

It’s the first time you’ve said it today, and hearing those three words from you sends warmth flooding through him.

Logan shifts slightly, pulling you even closer, his hand moving to the back of your head, cradling you with a kind of tenderness he used to think he’d never be capable of. “I love you too, darlin’. More than you know.”

Your body relaxes against him, the lingering effects of your shared intimacy still buzzing through your limbs, but now there’s a sense of peace, of safety, and a deeper connection.

He can feel the way your fingers curl lightly against his skin, the quiet smile that must be tugging at your lips as you press a kiss to the side of his neck.

And in that moment, with everything settled around him, Logan knows that this, right here, is everything.

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[gumii-bearr]

jjk manga spoilers!!

megumi doesn’t like to look at himself.

to be fair, he didn’t have much confidence to begin with but now that his face is disfigured by jagged scars, he has less than what he started with.

his hair doesn’t have the same megumi charm to it anymore. you clocked the change almost instantly.

megumi lets his hair grow out a little more than usual, the once messy tufts of hair now fanning loosely over his face.

over his scars.

he doesn’t talk to you about it, you know deep down he never will.

it takes a lot of convincing for megumi to talk about anything and after everything that happened, you doubt you’ll ever hear him talk about it out loud.

but you know him.

you’ve been with megumi for almost a year, friends with him for longer, you know he has a lot on his mind that he doesn’t know how to express.

he says it without saying it when he crawls into bed with you late at night, sneaking into your dorm without you even waking up.

and when he bumps his shoulder and thigh with yours when you eat together.

and when he pretends he doesn’t see you looking at him when the two of you study in his dorm.

you know he’s become insecure of the pink scars on his face, he’s subconsciously hiding them with his hair and he doesn’t look at you the way he used to, as if he’s ashamed of himself.

but you’re not ashamed of him, you could never be.

to you, he’s the most beautiful boy you’ve ever seen.

your fingers trace along the ridged texture of the skin along his cheek, your touch so gentle and light as to not wake him.

it’s the only time megumi’s face is free of torment. when he’s resting beside you with his hands wrapped around your waist, his face tucked into the nape of your neck.

megumi is stirred from sleep when your thumb traces over his eyelid, tickling his lashes.

his eyes open only slightly, steely blue eyes finding yours for the first time in weeks.

his breath hitches in his throat, his hand instinctively covering his scarred cheek.

but your hand is already there under his, cradling his face like it’s the most precious thing in the world.

“why’re you awake?”

“was just looking at you.”

megumi feels his face heat at your words and how you look at him with such adoration.

you move some of his hair out of his face before you lean in to press a kiss to the scar over his eyelid, then the one along his cheekbone.

megumi may hate his scars. but they’re part of him.

and you could never hate him.

[iceunhie]

voicelines about you: as their lover ! (part 2)

featuring: sunday, aventurine, blade (+ black swan, acheron) [ part 1: dan heng, jing yuan, gepard, kafka, jingliu. ]

notes: well. the long awaited part 2 is here! (i took absolutely wayyy too long to finish this but a lovely anon requested the penacony cast so i just waited until now haha) stay tuned for either a future aventurine fic or a sunday fic tho; reblogs are appreciated! main masterlist.

Sunday

About [Name]: Ah, you speak of my beloved. [Name] has managed to strike your interest as well? Heh, I'm joking. You aren't that type of person, no? ….But yes, my lover truly is quite stellar, if not incomparable. I doubt I'd find anyone in the universe as lovely as I do them.

About [Name]: Smitten Robin often jokes about how my eyes change whenever I see them. ‘Softens like the smitten man you are,’ she says. Well, my sister is hardly wrong about matters of the heart, and to be fair, her words are indeed correct. While I cannot be with them every second of the day, despite my only wish to do so…. I suppose this much is fine. At the very least, this bewitched version of myself shall ward any that dare take [Name] away from me.

About [Name]: Preparation. …My mansion has everything [Name] shall ever desire. As for I, what I only desire is them alone, and for them to be right by my side. When the time is right, what's mine shall also be theirs, and none shall ever separate the two of us again. Should anyone attempt it, well, there's a reason my mansion is built the way it is.

Aventurine

About [Name]: [Name], [Name], [Name].... I see that you too have an eye for priceless treasures. Unfortunately for you, this particular one is already mine to behold. Mm, I wonder how my lover must be faring right now…. Missing them is truly, horribly debilitating.

About [Name]: Unworthy Whenever I think of [Name] being with me, of all people… Sometimes, the thought is unbearable. To think they would care for someone like me…. How truly lucky I am. Or maybe it's the other way around? Hehe, take a guess.

About Topaz: Contradictory Topaz and [Name] get along fairly well, despite her rather obvious dislike for me. Nonetheless, I suppose I can understand why. My lover is irresistibly charming~ Now, does this make me jealous, I wonder…. How about we bet on that?

Blade

About [Name]: Though this sword may be battered and broken, if you harbor any intention of harm towards them, I will not hesitate to brandish this blade.

About [Name]: Mara Infliction When afflicted with mara, the senses are ravaged ceaselessly, muddying the mind—being unable to distinguish ally from foe. This is my path. And yet their face is clear, pure amidst the carnage, alleviating the haze for but a moment. My mind may be overridden with hatred, but I will never forget that feeling of salvation.

(BONUS: Kafka’s Voiceline about [Name] !) About [Name]: Truly A Shame Bladie’s little darling, hm? Definitely a wonder, that one, taming him so easily. Those two are definitely an interesting case, that's for sure. Scary, marastruck Blade and them…. truly a shame. Even I know just how the ending of that particular script will end.

Acheron

About [Name]: …They are my lover, yes. Hm? Tell you more about them? Heh, I think you'd have better luck asking [Name] instead of me. I probably wouldn't even know where to begin.

About [Name]: Keeping Memories Despite the fact of my memories being in less than the best condition, [Name] always tells me about all the exciting things they've come across, whether it be delicious food from various planets, or even the most mundane things like the sound of the rushing water, the sight of fireflies in the night. They truly make everything worth remembering.

(BONUS: Black Swan’s Voiceline about [Name] !) About [Name]: Eye Of The Storm Ah, you speak of that Galaxy Ranger's companion…. The abyss that is her consciousness seems to only become calm in the face of them, akin to the eye of the storm. A shining light in the middle of nothingness—that is something that even she cannot let go of. No wonder Miss Acheron is quite taken with them.

Black Swan

About [Name]: The memories of Memokeepers are sorted into various categories by their importance. As my lover, my memories of them hold the greatest value of all. Such memories…. even if the Remembrance wishes for me to hand them over, I doubt I will ever allow it.

About [Name]: Dancing My proficiency in the act of dancing is all thanks to my continued practice with [Name] on our shared time together. Fufu, ‘dates,’ if you will. Every moment I spend in their arms, swaying to the beat of the music at every turn… those are the memories I wish to forever retain.

About Acheron: Indebted One time, Miss Acheron managed to get lost in the middle of the Reverie Hotel’s halls... as usual. [Name] came across her then, and proceeded to have a lovely chat with her. I owe her a debt for keeping my lover company as I was preoccupied with some matters the Garden of Recollection entrusted to me to relay to the family. Next time, perhaps I should invite her over for some dinner with [Name]....

end notes thanks for sticking around the part 2 (for the ogs who read pt 1) and do look forward to more HSR content in the future! also did i say i love aventurine

© 𝐈𝐂𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐇𝐈𝐄 : do not repost, copy, or plagiarize my work.

[drchucktingle]

On your blog you've talked about dealing with chronic as a result from the stress of masking your autism.

It's a bit of a different situation, but my little sister (who we've begun to suspect has adhd) has been experiencing chronic pain in her arms and legs. I may be totally off base, but I was wondering if a similar stess might potentially be a factor in her pain.

If you're willing, would you mind talking about how your pain affected before you found a way to manage it (I tried searching your tumblr, but not much came up, so sorry if I'm asking a question that's already been answered)?

Thanks either way, I love your books. Love is real!

sure buckaroo GOOD QUESTION. i have had chronic pain in some form or another for LONG TIME in a number of STRESS RELATED WAYS. in past it has been cracking teeth from clenching dang jaws while i sleep and things like that, but a few years ago it was FULL ON BODY PAIN AND TIGHTNESS like every muscle was clenching up. went to the doctor over and over all kinds of dang specialists and it was very difficult to figure out what was going on. eventually landed on a sort of nebulous trot of STRESS but i can get more specific.

there are several things about me that you would never know just from looking or even talking to me for long times. i am a bi buckaroo, i am a non-dysphoric trans buckaroo, i am an autistic buckaroo. EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THESE THINGS IS EITHER HIDDEN AUTOMATICALLY OR I AM SUCH AN EXPERT AT HIDING THAT IT IS SECOND NATURE

autism presents its trot in many ways, so my words do not apply to all, but my version is EXTREME ORGANIZATION AND ENDLESS WORK ETHIC. in way of freud (which is a silly way but sometimes good for symbolism talk) i have what you would call an OVERDEVELOPED SUPER EGO which is a double edged sword. i can write 100s of books at an incredible pace, but also feel like my body is constantly collapsing in on itself

this is not really something i consciously think about much, but eventually these health problems started creeping up. it was all from carrying this mystery tension in my body, because while it feels EASY for me to mask i believe all that tension goes somewhere and it stores up and stores up and stores up.

so i think the HEALTHY way that i have found to deal with this (i think of it as releasing the steam valve a bit so the boiler does not break down) is ART. this space where i am allowed to be CHUCK TINGLE and write without obsessing over the spelling or punctuation, or to loudly express my queerness, or explore gender, and to let my neurotypical mask down DIRECTLY RELIEVES my chronic pain because it literally makes my muscles relax.

when i started out this ARTISTIC TROT as chuck i used a LOT of metaphor to keep my privacy, with different words or different versions of people for different things, and buckaroos found this very funny. as a way to express myself artistically i also liked this metaphor trot a lot, but i have also found that the LESS metaphor i paint over my life as chuck, the better it is for my health. if you have noticed, i talk less about some of the parts of my life that were metaphors, or maybe you have seen that my voice has relaxed a bit in interviews, or that i carry myself a little differently over time, this is partially why. (there is another artistic reason that was a planned trot from the beginning and it has to do with my feelings as a young autistic buckaroo of not fitting in on this timeline, but we can dive into that later).

anyway, as PRACTICAL ADVICE i would say that FINDING A SPACE TO EXPRESS YOURSELF WITHOUT FEAR OR MASKING has been the number one trot for me. that can be a pink bag over your head writing hundreds of erotic shorts, or that can be just laying on the ground howling your heart out, or doing whatever stim you need to do.

i will also say that ONCE I REALIZED IT WAS MUSCLE TENSION getting a physical therapist helped a lot. because there are two sides, you have to start releasing steam from the steam valve, but at the same time youve also gotta start HEALING THE DAMAGE. so i think stretching and techniques like that can be very helpful.

hope that helps buckaroo LOVE IS REAL

[aliceinborderlandsquidgame]

We meet again | In-ho x Fem!Reader | PT3

Summary: It was only one night for fun, you never thought you would see him again. Even less in a place like this one.

P1 P2 PT4 END

Warnings: S2 Spoilers - Canon violence - Pregnant!Reader - Non canon background for In-ho - Use of (Y/N) - Angst - Protective!In-ho - Soft!Dae-ho - Panic!Reader - grammar mistakes -

Morning came once again, this time you managed to get some good sleep, between the extra blankets and Jun-hee body heat (who told you she may end hugging you since she liked to cuddle in her sleep), you did not mind and so you woke up with her snoring over you.

"How does you two feel?" Dae-ho asked from besides the bed, for him it was like seeing his sisters from back home.

"I think we are both fine, better than last night" You slowly moved Jun-hee who asked for five more minutes, not catching up were she was.

You let out a small smile and looked around, Gi-hun and Jung-Bae seemed to be engrossed in a deep conversation, there was no trace of In-ho.

"Hey Dae-ho" He made a noise to let you know he was listening "Where is In-ho?"

"Oh, he said he needed to use the restroom and asked me to keep watch over you two" He responded like it was a normal thing. "He is really protective you know? I think he sees Jun-hee like a little sister of sorts but..." He closed his mouth not wanting to make things akward.

"But?, you can tell me"

"Its different with you. I see the way he looks at you, he was very atentive when we were walking the stairs and even let you held on him"

Well, he kind of forced me to.

"And, well the first night...I saw him giving you his blanket, I dont think he sees you like a sister at all" He added a small blush on his cheecks as he felt like he was sharing a secret

You did also blush, his words hitting your heart hard and deep. Did he really care ? Did he really care for his baby ? And yourself ? Was it true that he would have stayed or went back ?

"I think you are overthinking, he most likely does it because im...fragile right now"

But Dae-ho moved his head "No, im positive that he sees you more than a friend, trust me, I grow up with four sisters, im used to see which men would see them as friends and which would see them as lovers"

"Does that mean you see me like a sister?" You asked him trying to make him forget about his ideas.

He suttered responding "W-well, I mean, you are a woman" You nodded and he laughted "Right you are, and you are pregnant no less...two of my sisters were pregnant once and I was besides them during it so...m-maybe im acting on instinct. Sorry if it brothers you"

"No, no it does not. If nothing im happy. My brother left the country when he fell on debt, and passed it to me. He never called me or contacted before it. So...if you see me as your sister then its fair I see you as my brother"

Dae-ho smiled softly at your words He was going to talk once again but the voice of Jung-Bae calling him made him stop.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~

"Its time for the game yet?" Jun-hee said getting up blinking to adjust to the light.

"No yet, we have a few more minutes to rest" You responded "How do you feel?"

Jun-hee dismissed your worried tone with her hand "Im fine, slept better than last night. Thank you for sharing the blankets"

"You are welcome, we must take care of each other, right?"

She smiled, a sincere one. "We have"

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○

In-ho with his clothes of Front Man read over the food for the next days, besides him stood The Officer not saying a word knowing better.

"Add one appel for each player" He finally said, giving the officer the tablet back who nodded. "And kept the vitamins for player 222 and 344"

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~

"Attention players, today we will be giving food, form a line and wait" The Guard called.

Jun-hee and you moved to get in line, followed by Jung-Bae, Gi-hun and Dae-ho. "Why are they giving us breakfast? And where is In-ho?" Jung-Bae asked looking around with confusion, even Gi-hun had started to get worried.

"Well...he did say he needed the restroom, but he has been gone for much time now" Dae-ho said looking around too.

"Maybe he got lost?" Jung-Bae said getting a look from the four of you. "Well dont look at me like that!"

"You four went to the restroom last night, how far is it?" You asked a bit worried

"Not far, and the guards keep watch" Gi-hun responded

"Maybe he tried to escape?" The voice of Jun-hee asked

All of you fell in silence, the words of the other players muffled by your own thoughts.

Slowly the line went on, the four of you moving in a robotic way, like already mouring his death. 

It cant be, I cant lose him again.. 

You almost fell but Dae-ho noticed it and took you in his arms

"Hey...he may he alright..."

You wanted to cry, maybe the pregnancy was getting on you, maybe the stress was too much.

"And what if not? What if..."

"Next"

Dae-ho helped till you two were in front of the guard who this time gave milk, bread, an appel and the same plastic bag as last time"

Dae-ho looked with curious eyes but a loud sound from the guard and and an almost violent push of food made him look away.

You took a seat and forced yourself to eat and take down the pills. You knew you needed them for your baby.

Dae-ho followed by the others came too, once again Jung-Bae offered Jun-hee and you his milk.

All of you ate in silence, no one knew what to say or do, everyone was confused because of the suprise breakfast but also worried over their other teammate.

"What's going on, the food cant be that bad" The voice from In-ho broke off the dead silence.

"In-ho!" All of you exclaimed, it was a fun scene for the outside of it.

In-ho took a look at all of you, he could tell all of you were worried over him. His gaze lingered on you for a longer moment but he broke the eye contact and took a seat.

"Where were you?" Gi-hun asked between worried and suspicious

In-ho kept his eyes, "I had a small injury from last game, needed to check it" He lied "Tried to go during the night but the guards did not let me"

The silence was still tense but you decided to break it.

"Im glad you are fine" You went to munch back the appel blushing a bit under his eyes. He smiled at you and passed his appel to you, "Jun-hee and you can share it, I dont need it"

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~

"Attention players, the next game will start soon, form a line and follow a guard"

All of you moved, In-ho once again being in front of you while Dae-ho was behind.

"Really, I can climb these just fine" You told them but they just ignored you.

However this time the guard lead the line of players where you were around a different path one with almost no stairs and the ones that did appear where short ones.

You did not want to show it, but you were grateful for this. Not questioning why the path had change.

Jun-hee was as content as you, holding her own belly, even if she was not as pregnant as you, she still got tired from time to time. She looked at you smiling a bit when he saw In-ho looking over his shoulder to check on you.

Oh, she was sure you two had something. Maybe he was indeed the father of your baby. Maybe it was fate that you two met in here. Much like her own....even if she did not want anything to do with the father of her own baby.

If by the next game all of you were out then she would like to stay close to you. Maybe you two could go and look for cheap clothes for your babys, pick a color for their rooms. If you were living alone maybe you two could live together, or she could live close to you if by any chance In-ho and you shared a place.

She would love to go and have dinner, the three of you. She could picture In-ho not letting you or her do a thing, he would most likely cock and clean.

Maybe Dae-ho could come too. He did said he grow up with four sisters, maybe he would give you two some tricks and help you two. He could introduce his sisters to the two of you.

Her dream ended when they arrived to the next game.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○

In-ho was nervous. He knew he could not change the game itself, it would make these watching it get too invested and suspect, last thing he wanted was for the "VIPs" to get their attention on you.

Still, this game was dangerous. Specially for you, it did include running and the spinning, he swear to himself to stay besides you during all of it. But even with that...what if the stress was too much ? The music ?

Fuck, fuck all of this. Fuck it being The Front Man, fuck the dam games, fuck Gi-hun for causing trouble. Why could him just take the money and live his life?

Maybe it was wrong to blame Gi-hun for this. After all, it was not his fault that he had let you pregnant....

But it was his fault he had to make things harder, use all his energy for the games, for these on top of him to be satisfied, if he had not cause trouble outside....

"In-ho" Your sweet voice made him get back "What do you think? About the next game?"

Were all of you talking ? He never noticed.

"Mhm, could be migle" He trailed off

"Like, when we used to count run and hug each other?" Jung-Bae asked

"Must have something to do with these doors" Gi-hun pointed out "Make teams and go inside, something like that"

You little fucker....

"These are too far away..." You said starting to get nervous

"We wont leave you behind" In-ho told you giving your hand a quick grip

I wont leave you behind.

The guards had been ordered to not shoot you. Only to take you to his room in case you did lose. But In-ho would not let you go, he did not want to be separated from you.

"Yeah, we are a team" Dae-ho said taking your hand and Jun-hee who was also scared. "We wont let you two behind"

Maybe the four men from your team had different reasons to be in the games, but they had one objective this time.

Protect you and Jun-hee at all costs.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○

"Attention players, the next game is Migle, please get on the platform, when the song stops a number will be say. You must form teams of that number and go inside one of the rooms. If you fail to do so, you will be eliminated"

"You were right" You said to In-ho who helped you get on the platform "And Gi-hun, you were also right about the doors, you two seems to share the same brain"

Gi-hun said nothing while In-ho gave your hand a small grip. The platform started to spin, he could see you already feeling dizzy.

"Try to focus on a specific spot" He said avobe the music "That way you wont faint"

You did as he told you, eyes focus on a specific spot, the song was the old one you would hear kids sing back in your town. It made you want to vomit, to think on how twisted this was.

"10"

All of you started to look around, you were already six, just needed four more, but no one seemed to be around even if there were lots of players.

"Fuck what do we do" Jung-Bae said looking around

"How many are you?" Player 120 asked, behind her player 095, 007 and 149 stood.

"Six" Gi-hun responded quickly scanning the group seeing they were four, the number they needed

"Alright lets go then" In-ho said taking your hand between his, Dae-ho took Jun-hee hand with his, player 007 seemed to be dragging player 149, they were mother and son after all.

"There!" Gi-hun said running ahead opening a purpel door and making sure all of you went inside before he did it.

All of you were breathing hard after the run and stress.

Suddendly the door lock and the voice said time was up, next thing that came were the sounds of gunshots and screams.

"Oh you poor girls" The older woman said looking at Jun-hee and You like a mother would look at her daughter.

"We are fine" Jun-hee said hand on her belly as she took a quick look at you who nodded with a small smile.

"We are holding up" You told the older woman who was now cursing whoever would let two pregnant woman enter such a dangerous game.

In-ho had his face void from any emotion, even his eyes were stone cold while he listened to player 149 rant. It was destroying his heart.

The door unlocked again and the ten of you went out. Not knowing which number could be said next the ten of you decided to be close once the platform started to spin again.

"4"

Fuck, two will be out. You thought and all seemed to think the same, each one looking at the rest.

"Dae-ho, In-ho you two go with (Y/N) and Jun-hee, you four go together" Gi-hun started to make teams

"W-wait, what about-" Jung-Bae nervously asked but Gi-hun talked again "We will find two more, now go"

All of you splitted out, you were able to see the other four go inside a room before Dae-ho found one.

The four of you stood there, you went to look outside since the door had a small space, but between the lights and chaos you could not see Gi-hun or Jung-Bae.

"Hey, Seong was here before, and Jung-Bae its his best friend" Jun-hee said pulling you away from the door "I think they will be fine"

The door lock once again and the same sounds from last time repeated.

You closed your eyes feeling the breakfast trying to go up and out but you forced yourself not to.

Time passed slowly till the door unlock, the four of you inmediatly started to scream for Gi-hun and Jung-Bae but they did no appear.

"I dont see them" You said starting to panic "I- are they dead? I cant remember their numbers...did they said their numbers?" You asked getting more and more nervous not seeing around a player hitted your side

"Watch it caw" player 009, the same from the last game said.

"That little-" Dae-ho was about to go towards him but the screams from Gi-hun and Jung-Bae stopped him.

"Guys!" You said going towards them and hugging them, you felt Gi-hun tense under the hug, maybe he was not used to being hugged. "I was worried over you two" You separated yourself from them

"Gi-hun managed to find two more, its all thanks to him" Jung-Bae said but Gi-hun said nothing still lost in some thoguths

"Im glad you are safe" He finally said. He felt specially protective over you and Jun-hee, but since you seemed to be almost about to cry he could not help but let you know how he felt.

"We are, thanks for your quick thinking" In-ho appeared besides you, it did appear that he was covering you with his body but you did not say a thing.

The six of you went back to the platform, the other four players decided to stay close in case a high number was said.

The platform started to spin once again, the song was short played

"3"

"Let split" Jung-Bae said, already getting besides Gi-hun, "Jun-hee you can come with us"

"But-" Jun-hee did not want to separate herself from you. Last two rounds were heavy on her, being close to you had helped her calm down. She knew you would be safe with Dae-ho and In-ho, specially with In-ho.

"Go with them, we will see each other again" You softly told her giving her a quick hug and parting ways with Dae-ho and In-ho who was looking for a room. Most were already occupied but he would not let that stop him. He will get you inside one no matter what he had to do.

"There! Green one on the left" You screamed at them and both nodded going towards it.

However the three of you were not the only team that was going towards that door, In-ho noticed them right away and with decision ran faster taking one by the collar and punching him. The other two went to help their fallen companion but In-ho managed to fight them off giving Dae-ho and you enoguh time to get inside the room.

"In-ho, lets go time its almost up!!" You called him from the door not being fully inside yet.

He took a glance at the timer and sprinted towards you, barely making inside when the door closed with a loud sound.

"You fucker!! That was our room" One of the players that In-ho had stopped started to punch and scream.

Dae-ho hugged you pulling yourself as far from the door as he could while In-ho stood at the front, blocking the view.

He knew what was coming next and the player being too close would only make it worse.

"Cover her ears" In-ho told Dae-ho over his shoulder who catched up and did as told

The gunshots happen again, this time louder and closer. The player that had been screaming was dead outside now.

"Its ok, we are ok. (Y/N) how do you feel?" Dae-ho asked worried seeing you trembling. "H-hey whats wrong?"

In-ho moved towards you pulling you against his chest. He felt the tears falling down your face and the sobs.

"Shh, its fine. We made it, you and the baby are fine" In-ho calmed you down his own heart beating fast. If he was not inside the room before the time was up something could had happen. Even if the orders were clear to not hurt you, he had no idea how the guards would have manage the fact that inside the room where only two and not three players.

Would they ignored it? Kill Dae-ho and let you live? Give him more time?

He was taking many risks and was getting more worried over you and his baby. This game was too stressful, what was he going to do?

Once the guards removed the bodies the door did unlock, it was a nice suprise not seeing a pool of blood outside the door of the room you were in.

"Guys! Here" Gi-hun voice called, behind him Jung-Bae and Jun-hee followed

"Hey..." You said in a low and tired tone.

"What happened?" Jun-hee asked taking your hands in hers

"T-here was another team and we-" You could not finish the memory of them coming back.

"Its not your fault" Gi-hun said, knowing that most likely you three had to fight for the room. "Its no ones fault"

"In-ho saved us" Dae-ho said patting his back

In-ho tried not to let a groan, he only gave a small smile.

"Players get on the platform, next round will soon start"

The six of you went once again. In-ho made sure to take your hand in his. You looked at him giving him a significant grip and nodd.

"6"

It was like heaven had hear your prayers, the six of you did not waste time and ran to a nearby door. Not lots of players had exactly six so luckly you all made it without having to fight.

"I think this has been the easiest round" Jung-Bae said letting himself fell against a wall

"We got lucky, other number would have gave us problems" You said also slowly falling to sit

"How many rounds do you think we have to play?" Jun-hee wondered and all of you started to think

"Most likely one, I believe they had eliminated enough players by now" In-ho said feeling a headache forming.

"Then which number?" Dae-ho asked making silence fell over the room.

"It would be too much to ask for six again, right?" Jung-Bae said

"I dont see them being that generous" Were your only words.

Finally, the last round. The platform was once again spinning, song playing, In-ho knew it was the last round and that it was going to be two. He had decided he would go with you, the rest could separate as they wanted. But he would not leave you.

"2"

"Pairs! Form pairs and go" Gi-hun said seeing that most players had already started to move

In-ho took your hand once again not giving you time to think as he took you to the nearest room.

"W-wait, what about-"

"Jun-hee will be fine, and so will the rest" He said opening the door and making you go inside. "Stay at the back in case they try pulling the door open" He ordered and you did as he said.

Not sooner than later players were trying to open the door but In-ho had an iron griop on it, he was using all his force to not let them in.

Cmon, just finish the dam timer

"Times up"

The door locked for the last time and In-ho took a moment to collect his breath back. He turned to see you on the floor, eyes red and tears falling, hands over your belly.

"(Y/N) look at me, you are fine. The baby its fine" He assured you getting closer taking your face between his hands and cleaning your tears.

"I wont let anything happen to either of you" He added with lots of conviction "I will make sure you two are safe till the end, alright? Dont worry about anything just focus on surviving"

"But im scared, what if you die? What if you leave?" You asked criying a bit more.

"I wont, I promise you. Im sorry, sorry for everything. Even if you dont blame me anymore, im so sorry. Nothing like this should have happen. You should not be here"

You did not know. But In-ho was apolozising not only because of that. But because he was the one who came up with the games. Made them so he could break Gi-hun's will. It never ocurred to him that you would end here. Never in a millon years would he have thought the girl who he slept once was pregnant, the girl who plagued his days and nights was going throw a lot alone.

He felt deeply sorry for everything.

"Stop it, you know I dont blame you. If anything...im happy" That made In-ho look at you suprised. "I never thought I would be a mother, I never saw myself as one but, you made it possible. Even if things were not ideal. Im happy, and im happy with you. Im happy I could see you again, im happy that you care for me and the baby"

"You have no idea how much you two mean to me, listen (Y/N) you said it, it was not ideal, and our moment together was short. But never, I have never cared for someone as deep as I care for you"

Maybe only for his brother, but he had shoot him, so you were higher on the list.

"In-ho...."

"Can I kiss you? Please, please I need to kiss you, I need to know this is real" He begged you his walls falling and desesperation coming out.

You nodded and he leaned in keeping his eyes look in yours till his lips were on you.

It was soft, and tender. His movements were slow but passionate pulling all his feelings on it. It felt like the first time you two kissed, the world fading outside, only you two mattered.

In-ho pulled his hand over your belly not yet touching it, but you moved them and for the first time he was able to feel your belly. To think his baby was inside, was too much, too emotional, he did almost cry.

But a kick, a soft one directly where his hand was made him stop. He looked down, not beliving it when he felt it again. His baby was kicking him, his baby was alive.

"I think it knows its father" You said smiling feeling one more kick. Your baby almost never kicked, it was mostly quiet and would move when the sun was too strong but nothing much.

However, with In-ho around it was like it had woke up from a long nap.

"Do you know the gender?" He asked in a state of bliss

"No, I want it to be a suprise"

"Then, how do you call it?"

"Little one"

"Hello Little One, im your father In-ho" at this the baby kicked once again "Stay safe in there, your mother its going amazing so far"

And there, in that small room. In these deadly games, with blood and bodies outside. In there, In-ho found himself being the happiest man alive, with you by his side and his little one.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~

Tags:

@maria-trisha @blueyesuguru @imenekiki @victorie767 @futuristicdefendorfart @heyitsmefall

@love-you-louise @fantasylovestoryme @sleepyycatt @nightdark-dreamdark @lindsay000000 @ourlovesarang @smally97 @zigmasstuff @aleemendoza2425-blog @the-disaster-in-waiting @ilovequeen978 @sc4rrc @sylviavf @l4venderia @blueeclipsepaperstudent @annasnape7

I could not tag some, sorry.

[dimesdimesdimess]

CONFESSION

Father Charlie Mayhew x Reader

Warnings: fingering, masturbation, dirty talk, swearing, innocent reader, lustful priest.

Readers Notes: Hello! This is my first time writing for this fandom. But it’s also been awhile since I’ve written anything. So the smut may not be great since I’m a little rusty. But if you enjoy it I may write another part. We’ll see. Enjoy! Possible spelling errors, not proof read.

part two

Every Thursday you made your way to the church for confession, confessing to the sins you committed for that week. Most of the time they are little things like swearing, or being a bit selfish and using the lord’s name in vain. Things that make Father Charlie laugh to himself because these weren’t really sinful to him and you were one of the few people that actually came every week. It always made him curious about you and liked when you came even if he didn’t feel it necessary. So every Thursday he listened, absolved you of your sins and made you say your hail marys. You always felt so much better after seeing Father Charlie. He wasn’t like some of the other priests, he was younger than them all, and had different ways about himself. You thought he was a bit strange at first and much too good looking to be a priest. You had to admit to yourself that sometimes you were coming to church just to see him. Much like the other women.. You heard whispers of the other women and the young girls talking about how handsome he was and every now and then one of them would try to flirt with him. He’d just smile at them as if he had no clue. 

You weren’t any different from these women. You also felt the urge to flirt with him, but he was a priest and that would be sinful. But that didn’t stop the thoughts that ran through your mind about him even outside of church. Sinful thoughts of him crossed your mind and you did your best to stop them even praying the thoughts away, but nothing worked. You couldn’t take the fact that God might send you to hell for having such thoughts. 

Thursday was rolling back around and one thing you thought could help and make you feel less of a sinful person was confession. Maybe if you confessed about the sin you’ve been committing that you’d be absolved and it would stop. But you couldn’t tell him the thoughts were about him, so you’d have to make up a story. As soon as you could you rushed over to the church and headed inside, there he was waiting by the confessional booth, he was expecting you. You lightly dip your fingers into the holy water and sign the cross before you quickly walk over to him.

Father Charlie smiled. “Ah, there you are, Y/N. Right on time. 

You were out of breath because you literally ran over. You smiled nervously at him as you caught your breath, those sinful thoughts creeping into your mind as you stared up at him. “Hello father.” you murmured.

He raised an eyebrow at you. “Everything alright?” 

You nodded. “Mhm, just ready to give my weekly confession.” you mumbled. 

He chuckles softly. “Alright. Let’s get started.” he opens the door on his side of the booth and he steps inside. You nervously open the door to your side and step inside, sitting down as your hands sit in your lap and you nervously rubbing them together. There's a small light in the confession booth, it was just bright enough that it wasn’t completely pitch black. 

There was silence for a moment and then you started to speak softly. 

“Bless me father, for I have sinned. It’s been a week since my last confession.” you say softly. 

There’s another silence. You nervously rubbed your hands together, unsure of how to confess your sin. 

“Y/N?” Father Charlie says softly. 

You clear your throat. “Sorry, father.” you mumble. 

You sigh softly as you go down the list of your confesses, which was the usual, swearing and using the lord's name in vain. Which Father Charlie expected and made him a smile a bit to himself.

“Anything else, Y/N?” he asks. 

You let out another sigh. 

“Y-Yes.. I’ve.. I’ve been having some thoughts..” you murmur. 

Father Charlie’s interest now peeked. “What thoughts, my child?” he responds. 

“Um.. sinful.. Dirty thoughts…” You pause. “About a man..” you whisper. 

There’s practically a smirk on Father Charlie’s face. This was new for you and unexpected. Now he was more interested in this than ever. 

“What are these thoughts? Is this a man you know? Someone you’re seeing?” he questions. 

You shake your head. “No.. I’m not seeing him.. I just.. He’s just someone I know. Everyday I have the most impure thoughts about him.. And his body and things I’d like him to do to me. It’s terrible, father. Just terrible. I can’t seem to get these thoughts out of my mind. I tried to pray to make it stop. But they just won’t.. I don’t know what else to do, father.” 

Father Charlie sinks his teeth into his bottom lip as he listens to you and then his tongue runs over them as he clears his throat. Such an innocent woman like you having impure thoughts like this made him feel a way. He wanted to help. He wanted to help ease these feelings and thoughts you’ve been having in one way he knew how. 

“Well.. It’s perfectly normal to have such thoughts if you feel something for this man. Sinful, maybe. But normal. You can’t avoid sexual feelings. There is something I know that may help with this, Y/N.” he says. 

You glance over through the separator. “There is? What is it we can do? Prayer? Penance? I’ll do anything to make this stop.” you pleaded. 

He chuckles lowly. “No.. None of that. This is something that I’ve been wanting to speak about. Something to bring the church into the future. Embracing sexual desires instead of condemning them or thinking of them as sinful.” he says. 

You furrow your brow, not understanding what he’s getting at. “What do you mean? Isn’t it a sin to have these thoughts if you’re not married?” you respond. 

“No. It’s human nature, now would you like me to help you?” he says quite coldly. 

You would do anything to make this feeling go away and stop lusting after your priest. “Yes father, please help.” you respond.

Just the very sound of that does something to him and he could feel his pants becoming tight at the very thought of what he was going to make you do. 

“Now I must say, what we do in here is confidential as you know. So, I can’t tell anyone and I’ll need you to promise you won’t speak of this with anyone.” he says, peering over at you through the separator. 

He had a seriousness in his voice and you glance over at him. Your eyes meeting in the dimness of the booth, still curious about how he was going to help you. “I promise I won’t tell anyone, father. Honest.” you say, nodding. 

“Good.. Then we can begin, Y/N. You’ll need to obey my every word. This is to help you, that’s all.” he proceeds to say. 

“I understand, father.” you chime in. 

“Good. Now.. Why don’t you start off by spreading your legs..” he hums.

You look over at him. “Father?” you question. 

“I told you, this is to help you. Now spread your legs..” he says demandingly. 

You swallow hard and do as you're told. He is the priest after all.. A holy vessel. What he’s asking must be what God wants. You slowly spread your legs open. The fabric of your dress lies against your thighs as it rides up just slightly as your legs are spread. Father Charlie peeks over and smirks to himself. “Wider.” he demands. 

You spread your legs open even further and now your dress rides up even further along your thighs. Father Charlie pleased with your obedience. “Good girl..” he hums. Now slowly lift the skirt of your dress up just above your thighs.” he whispers. 

Your eyes widened with innocence. You couldn’t believe this was happening and that this is what God wanted. “Now Y/N.” he hisses. 

You quickly lifted the skirt of your dress up just as he wanted and now your thighs and panties were completely exposed. He leans over and looks between the separator, the very sight of your white cotton panties causing the tightness in his pants to become worse than before that his bulge begging to be set free from their confinement. He tries to adjust himself. “Good..” he whispers. 

“Now tell me about these sinful dirty thoughts of yours, Y/N. While you do it.. I want you to touch yourself the way you wanted to be touched in these thoughts of yours.” he whispers, running a hand along his clothed hard on. 

You hesitate. “But father.. I..” he cuts you off before you could get another word out. 

“In order for this to work you need to be obedient. You need to act on these sinful thoughts and do as I say. Now do as I ordered or you will never be rid of this.” he says sharply. 

“Yes father.” you respond in a soft voice. You let out a soft exhale as your hands run over your thighs. “T-This man.. All I want is for him to run his hands along my body.. Touching me.. Teasing me.. Just the very thought of it has an ungodly feeling coming from between my legs.” you whisper.

Father Charlie tries to hold back the low groan that escapes him as he hears your words and his hand is now rubbing against his hard on. “Tell me more.. D-Does this ungodly feeling make you.. You feel wet?” he mutters.

Your eyes widen once again and you nod. “Yes.. Yes.. It’s terrible.. My.. My panties get wet and sometimes sticky against me.. I throb with.. with so much desire for y-.. For this man.. I can’t stand it.” You began to let out soft noises as you picture the father running his hands along your thighs, his head in between them, kissing up to your soaked pussy. Your mind is running wild with the thought.

 Father Charlie’s eyes roll back in desire as you describe it and now he can’t bear it anymore and he slowly undoes his pants and slides his hand in them to pull his cock out. It’s throbbing and hard, precum already dripping from the tip, he spits into his hand and wraps it around his pulsing cock. “Keep going.. T-tell me more..” he hums as he slowly pumps his cock in his hand.

The pitch of his voice sounded a bit different now, but you didn’t think much of it because you were being consumed with your fantasy of him. You run your hand along your panties and you could already feel them being soaked through and it makes a whimper escape you. The entire time Father Charlie is peeking through the holes of the separator as he pleasures himself. “Take ‘em off.. and keep talking..” he mumbles. You don’t hesitate to do as he says and hook your fingers between the hem of your panties and you slowly slide your panties off, your arousal stained on your panties and you gulp slowly. “Oh.. god..” Father Charlie mutters to himself.

“I.. I picture this man with his head between my legs.. He’s wanting to help with the throbbing.. and he.. he…” you stutter over your words. 

“What? What?! What does he do next?” Father Charlie says with an excitement in his voice as his begins to stroke his cock faster, his eyes fixated on your pussy under the dim light.

“He.. He runs his tongue.. along my pussy.. He’s licking up the mess I made in my panties.. Slurping up every last drop.. “ You run two fingers along your swollen throbbing clit and now you let out a loud moan, praying no one else was in the church. Father Charlie’s head leans against the separator as he breathes heavy, watching as you play with yourself and he spits some more on his cock, pumping his hand harder and faster. You continue with your thoughts. “Then he wraps my thighs around his shoulders and he’s buried between my thighs.. His tongue flicking against my clit and then shoving it inside of my pussy.. He’s moaning because I’m so tight around his tongue..” You let out another moan and now your fingers were so wet from your pussy that you slowly slip them inside your tight cunt, you could feel yourself tighten around your fingers and now your back was pressed against the wall of the booth and you’ve brought your legs up against the pew as your legs were spread wide open, completely on display for the father as you moan.

“F.. Fuck…” Father Charlie groans, his cock dripping in precum as he works his hand along the shaft, licking his lips as he watches you fuck yourself. “That’s it.. Good girl... Let those sinful thoughts take over.. G-Give into  your desire..” he mutters between his groans. 

You nodded obediently at his words, completely taken with your own thoughts, completely unaware that he’s getting off to you. Your eyes are shut tight as you shove your fingers deeper into your soaking pussy, the wet sounds echoing within the booth, your breathing heavy and out of control and without even thinking between your moans you say his name. “Oh, father… Yes… Charlie..” you cry out. 

Father Charlie catches this and smirks to himself as his cock pumps in his hand, having revealed that he was the man in your sinful thoughts, this only further provokes his desire and need. Giving him many ideas of how he could use you. He realizes that you haven’t realized what you said. You couldn’t care in this moment as the desire within you was building and soon coming to the surface, a feeling you had never felt before. You felt like you were going to explode. “Father.. I.. A strange feeling is coming over.. over.. me.” You say with a shaky breath. 

“Let it… Let it take over, my child.. Let it out..” he moaned, he was not going to last a minute longer but he wanted to cum when you did.. He wanted to watch you orgasm. Your head is tilted against the wall and your legs trembling and soon your whole body and without realizing it your moans soon turn into loud cries of pleasure as you soon reach your orgasm, cum leaking out of your pussy and onto your fingers and the pew as your body convulses. “Fuck.. yes.. “ Father Charlie mumbles as he reaches his orgasm and he grunts and groans lowly as spurts of his warm cum shoot out of his cock onto the wall of the booth and some of it gets on his suit. “Christ..” he grumbles. 

You whimper softly as you slowly slip your fingers out of your dripping pussy and you’re trying to understand what just happened and what you just did in the church of all places. You look over at Father Charlie though the separator, his head rested against it and he looks sweaty and is breathing hard. His eyes look up at you and now you’re staring at each other for a moment and you could sense what he was doing, but didn’t want to admit that you knew. He clears his throat as he lifts his head up and quickly puts his cock away and buttons his pants back up. You feel so confused now and embarrassed. 

“H..How.. How do you feel now? Thoughts gone?” Father Charlie mutters, fixing his hair.

You swallow nervously as you sit up and push the skirt of your dress back down quickly. “I.. I guess.. My head doesn’t feel as bad. I can think straight again..” you answer. 

He smiles. “Good.. Told you.. Nothing wrong with giving into your desires, Y/N.”

You nod. “And you’re sure this is right? I don’t want to go to hell for doing this in a holy place..” you say nervously. 

Father Charlie laughs. “You’re not going to hell. God wanted you to do this and wanted me to guide you. I think you may need a lot of my help and this should be something I work with you on a weekly basis. We can do it more privately in my office.”

“But father.. I don’t think..” he interrupts you, shaking his head.

“You need this.. Your thoughts are more sinful than I thought.” he says. 

You stay silent. This was all confusing to you, but you couldn’t lie, you did feel a whole lot better. Father Charlie begins to pray to absolve you of your sins. You bow your head and clasps your hands together, praying along with him before signing the cross. “Now go pray five hail marys and our father and I’ll see you next week in my office, Y/N.” he says before he gets up and heads out of the booth. You sit in your side of the booth, pondering what has just happened and then you realize in the heat of the moment what you had moaned out. His name. Was that the real reason why he wanted to continue this? Now the embarrassment really sunk in because now he would think you were just like the rest of the women in the church.. Lusting after him, which you were, but the last thing you wanted was for him to know that. But maybe that’s exactly what he wanted.. To be lusted after. 

Tagging: @nicholasachavez @smokeymountainboy @arianatheangel-girl @suraemoon @aliengoth3 @theycametoconquertheearth53 @suspiciousmindsxo

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[simpjaes]

renaissance man (p. js)

Taking note of the strangers you see day to day isn’t something you’d normally do. The only reason today is different is because the guy who made small talk as he rang you up for your intimate items was the same guy who showed up catering for your family reunion.  or the one where jay is a dildo salesman, a caterer, a self-titled mechanic, and also your ride home. he is not an expert in any of his jobs, but he sure is an expert in wit and well, other things.

minors dni!! | pls reblog to show your support!

WORDCOUNT― 14.6k

PAIRING― park jongseong x afab reader 

CONTENT― fluffy comfort smut, strangers to lovers like immediately, you buy a monster sized dildo, blatant talking of masturbation and toys, smut, cliche blooming an attachment to someone after (1) fuckening. 

!!ATTENTION!!― read this before? that’s because I run two blogs and like to re-vamp fics i’ve previously written for other groups! [@/ncteez is likely where you’ve read it from. THAT IS ME!!!] 

smut tags under cut:: 

smut tags― it’s kind of fluffy im so sorry i just have feelings for him, average cock size jay!!!![i am not of this belief, i think his cock is fat and huge], he is very much a service top, making out, hand holding, caressing, grinding, finger fucking, titty worship,  unprotected sex, sweet talking as a form of dirty talk, missionary bc i refuse to pretend he wouldn’t want that, back scratches (sexual)

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Never have you been put in the position to make small talk about the sex toys you place on a counter to purchase. Then again, you guess it’s part of the job description that most people ignore or aren’t privy to actually doing. 

Never have you been informed of the wide variety of lubricants, additional toy-cleaners, or the bigger and smaller alternatives to your chosen toy. You don’t show discomfort though, because it’s not uncomfortable. Sex is normal, masturbation is more normal, and the man in front of you appears to be normal too.

“There’s twelve different color variants if you prefer something less fleshy.” The man says, standing at the counter with some sort of a permanent pout on his lips. 

“I’m fine, if you could just ring me up now I can get out of your hair.” You respond, glancing at the time on your phone and wondering how you got stuck with the only employee who actually does his job here.

“Are you sure you don’t want any lubricant?” The man adds, gazing at the size of your toy and then looking you up and down as if you clearly wouldn’t be able to handle your chosen toy without help.

The man with no name tag appears to be blissfully unaware of his invasiveness with that question as you tilt your head with a raised brow. Shocked at the very question, it’s actually quite laughable that he’s so monotone with the offensive comment. You imagine he’s done this for so long that he must be a manager trying to get the day over with, going through the steps in a bored mood with little to no regard as to how he must sound to strangers buying their first or twentieth dildo. 

With your assumption that he doesn’t exactly care about the level of wet your vagina is when you use this toy, you respond. “I think I know my body well enough and I already have lube, but thanks.”

He nods, not even sparing you much of a glance before giving you a total and bagging your item.

Now, despite Jay’s lack of interest toward the purchase of toys, he finds it comical that he’s grown numb to the very fact that he knows what everyone in this town’s kinks are after they step out of the shop’s door. Someone’s gotta do this job and keep those secrets…he likes to think he fits the bill perfectly. 

Lively as he may be outside of this shop, each job comes with a personality and this one calls for one of disinterest in your product but interest in the sale. He’s not one to lie to himself though, many times a pretty girl has marched in and bought toys far bigger than any man and he does tend to let his mind wander about it from time to time. When he first started this job, bright eyed and bushy-tailed, he found it hard to navigate a single sale without a flush of tints crossing his cheeks and ears. Now, he’s become a veteran at keeping his dick locked in place if he were to feel some type of way about a purchase and the one purchasing. 

Shy as he was when he started, it’s all lost now as he handles dicks and dongs, pocket pussies and anal plugs, even whips and chains. 

Shy. That’s definitely a word and surprisingly one that can describe him when he’s not on schedule within these walls of alien dicks and lime flavored lube to match the grotesque green color. At his other job, because he works two, he takes the praise of being the charming yet timid man who shows up with pans of food for events. 

The guests seem to love him and many times during weddings and company parties he has been offered phone numbers or asked for one simply because he appears to be that of a friendly face with a kind sense of being. Someone you’d wanna bring home to mom, some might say. 

It’s a stark contrast of jobs, and somehow he’s managed to dodge knowing many of the people coming into his night job to shop for ways to fuck themselves. The rare time it had happened, he was thankful to have another person in the shop to ring them up. Keeping up with two jobs is hard, and keeping up with two personalities is even harder.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

You hadn't thought of that guy from the sex shop even once until he showed his face at your family reunion. 

He noticed you before you managed to realize it was him though. Stealing looks in your direction as you chat with little cousins and elder aunts and uncles, mostly to double check in his brain if you’re really the girl who showed up and nonchalantly bought the newest dildo in stock. The fleshy colored one with rotating beads and a g-spot stimulator button. You know, the really fucking huge one. 

 Upon meeting his eye again for the first time, he could tell it really is you, simply because of the way you furrow your brow as you recognize him. 

Jay couldn’t help but smirk. He knew that eventually someone at an event would recognize him as their local sex-shop manager, he’s actually shocked it doesn’t happen more often. At least it’s you though, a woman who looks near his age and clearly has a very healthy relationship with her sexuality. So much so that you weren’t shy or nervous in buying the toy from him. Because it’s honestly pretty common to see someone nervous or uncomfortable while buying items far less telling than the one you bought.

His smirk doesn’t go unnoticed by you before you look away from him and focus your attention back to your family and by the time he’s prepared the food and is standing aside to explain what ingredients the dishes have, you’re walking up with your empty plate and an awkward glance. 

He follows you down the line of dishes, seemingly more interested in you than anyone else. You could argue it’s just an attempt to make you feel embarrassed, or perhaps even an attempt to ask you not to snitch on where else he works to make his money. 

“Do I know you from somewhere?” You ask, a knowing look telling him that you’re already very aware of that ‘somewhere’ you know him from. 

His pursed lips and snide hidden laugh at you is one thing, but the way he whispers to you over a pan of potato casserole is another. 

“I think you know who I am.” He says, crossing his arms as he leans back again with a flicker of a crooked grin. 

You leave it at that, looking him in the eye curiously and for some reason, smiling back at the strange second encounter with a man who appears to have a name tag now.

“Thanks, Jay. See you around.” 

Heading away from the tables of food and toward the table that contains all of your favorite cousins, you are immediately bombarded with a raised brow from one of them. Ah, nosy. 

“What was that about?” One of them leans over to ask, glancing at the man who is still overseeing the table of food and maintaining perfect temperatures. She doesn’t quite catch the way Jay’s eyes flicker back to you, over and over again, repeatedly. 

“Huh? He was just telling me what was in the potatoes.” 

She takes your answer as truth without issue, and the conversation falls away and into something else. College life, job life, family life. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Okay so, you’re trying to hear yourself out here. Are you somehow curious and interested in speaking with Jay? Yeah. Do you know why? Also yes. For one, he just sold you a fucking interesting sex toy last weekend in the most uncomfortable way possible, and now he’s here at your family reunion to remind you of what you do in your apartment when you’re alone. 

His personality seems different this time too. He wasn’t monotone, he was snide with you about knowing who you are. He probably thinks its funny that he ended up at your family reunion over any other event.

So yeah, maybe you find yourself going up to the table for seconds even though you’re no longer hungry. Maybe you definitely wait until no one else is at the table and he appears to be tidying up the space and wiping up spills before speaking to him again. 

“Just how many jobs do you have?” You ask in a sarcastic tone when you reach him, the table between the two of you creating a comfortable distance to poke and prod.

He jumps only slightly at your presence because he didn’t notice you walking up. The brief break he’s taken from stealing glances so he could actually do his jobs appears to be the time you feel the need to finally approach. Still, he’s smiling again, looking at you up and down. 

“Plenty. How much lube do you have left?” He answers before shooting back his own question and getting right to the point. 

You freeze in shock at his question, reminding yourself that his monotone voice from the late dildo purchase is no more and he now comes across as vibrant and charming to you. You check him out for a moment, taking mental notes of what may not or may not be to like about him. You can’t tell if it’s good news or bad news that you’re not finding anything to raise any red flags. 

He’s bold, confidence, charming, clearly has a decent work ethic– 

“I can’t imagine you have much left, that thing was a fucking monster. We have tons in stock if you wanna–” He pauses to cover his mouth, forgetting that he’s supposed to be timid and gentle during his day job. He’s not supposed to be himself.

You find yourself laughing though, leaning over the table and holding out your empty plate. Mostly just to get in closer to him without alerting your family of a new future husband or something. 

“Why are you so interested in my ‘fucking monster”’ dildos anyway?” You narrow your eyes. 

He pauses, easing up at the way you’re just as cheeky and playful as he is, despite being surrounded by your family. It’s mildly inappropriate, but it’s making his shift go by quickly. You’re making his shift enjoyable today, so he continues. 

“I think anyone would be interested, with all things considered.” He checks you out again with a brief pause, knowing the size of that dildo you bought by heart, and fully aware that it probably ripped you in half if you really managed to put that thing anywhere inside of you. “Correction, they should be worried.” 

“You’re different from before,” you comment, both of you now blatantly staring down each other. “I like this version of you more.” 

Something inside of him feels giddy at that. Not to be cliche but he wonders if this is what it’s like to instantly have a crush on someone. Again, he’s not one to lie to himself. You’re pretty and you appear to be confident. Confident enough to take time from your family reunion to have a discussion about your plastic cock intake anyway.

“Maybe I’ll see you again sometime then.” He puts a hand forward, inviting you to shake it but you simply stare it down instead.  

“Yeah, maybe you will.” You smile, slapping his hand as if you’re low fiving him before swirling around and walking away thinking hard about the fact that…yeah, he might actually see you sooner than he thinks. 

Honestly, maybe within the next day or two because he was kind of right to ask about how much lube you have left, but it’s not like you’d answer that truthfully if at all. You might be running out after just two uses. He was right again about it being a fucking monster, because well, yeah. Maybe you’ll pop in and shop for bulk lube instead of rejecting his up-sale this time. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Unfortunately for you upon the reunion coming to an end, you get into your car and of course it doesn’t start. You drop your head to the steering wheel in a sigh and annoyed grunt.

The last thing you need is your father driving you home because he will lecture you about your car and how it’s got to be some fault of your own for it to not start. And you know, yeah maybe it was your fault. Why were your lights turned on during a sunny Sunday afternoon? Fuck if you know. Why were they left on for the entire nine hours you’ve been here at your parent’s house? You refuse to answer your own question.

And just as you go to accept your defeat, preparing to head back inside and take the walk of shame ten minutes after saying your goodbyes, a savior appears. 

That savior is none other than Jay,  walking up with his stiff button down shirt partially unbuttoned, hair now disheveled as he must have ruffled it up after the day of work. He watched you from his catering van for just a few minutes before finally getting out to offer his expertise. 

“The battery is dead.” He smiles, slapping both palms on your hood and leaning to look at you through the windshield. 

“Smart man, can you un-dead my battery before my dad comes out?”

Jay shakes his head apologetically. 

“I already checked the van for the cables, could be a write up on my part for not checking before leaving. We are supposed to have all sorts of shit to prevent breakdowns on a job. Not today though, apparently.” He scratches the back of his neck as he walks to your opened car door. 

“If you can hang tight for like ten minutes I can swing by after dropping the van off.”

Your eyes plead with him. You’d prefer this, yes. If he’s willing to help, you’re willing to accept.

“You sure I’m not too out of the way for you to do that?”

He shakes his head nonchalantly, waving you off as he leans into your car to pull your keys out of the ignition. He smells like food, obviously he does, but there’s a scent of something else on him that’s far more attractive. The dull scent of cologne that matches him all too well. 

“Don’t try to turn it on anymore if you don’t want your dad coming out.” He laughs. “I’m sure he would help you but if you’d rather I help you, I am more than happy to do it.”

He’s teasing. His little crush pushes him to want to help you, but he’s gonna play it off as casually as possible. 

“I’ll hang out here. My dad would lecture the fuck out of me.”

Jay nods, backing away and heading back to his van to fulfill his offer.

On another note, you’re shocked that your father didn’t hear the commotion, and even more shocked that he didn’t step outside once since the reunion ended. He must have been tired, and you know him, he sleeps like a rock and probably already hit the sack without even cleaning up the yard.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“Oh, it’s dead dead.” Jay looks at you apologetically, peeking his head out from the side of your hood and through your window. 

“Define dead dead.” You comment, taking your keys out of the ignition with a huff. 

“Like, you need a new battery. This one is done for.”

You sigh loudly, knowing that now you’ll have to go ask your parents for a ride home. Knowing that your dad is going to add more to his lectures with each day your car is sitting in this driveway. This is so fucking annoying. At least you work from home though, so it’s not like you’re gonna lose your job over this or anything. 

Jay unhooks the cables and turns off his car, then stands there and watches you for a moment. You look frustrated and annoyed, and it’s very much like him to offer more help. 

Of course it is. 

“Would it be too forward to ask if you need a ride home?” 

You look at him confused, tilting your head and studying his body language much like before. You’re not one to decline someone making your life a little bit easier, and he is interesting to talk to. You nod slowly, then pause.

“You’ve worked all day, don’t waste your off-time helping me out.”

“I’m already wasting my off time on you though, might as well let me drive you home too?”

You stare at him. 

“Okay.”

The awkward silence sets in shortly after you seat yourself in his car. You fill that silence with small sarcastic comments about said car though, and soon it becomes easy to be in the space with him.

“Where did this sticker come from?” You ask, poking your finger into a sticker with its edges rolled from the summer heat, probably.

“Ex girlfriend, I couldn’t get it off without it leaving a residue so I’m just letting the sun do its job and melt it off.”

“Oh, harsh.” You laugh, wanting to prod further. “Why’d you break up?”

Jay pauses, you can tell by the way his foot lets up from the gas momentarily that he wasn’t expecting you to ask that. Then again, he’s said some weird shit to you too, so you figure it’s not an end-all question. 

“Was that too forward to ask?” 

“Not at all, just wasn’t expecting it,” He shakes his head with a small smile, nearly reaching his hand from the wheel to pat your leg in reassurance. He holds back, wondering why the fuck that urge felt so normal for him to do. “It’s been like a year, so I’m over it and stuff. She just thought I worked too much and didn’t spend enough time with her.”

“Ouch, even harsher.” You smile in reassurance to him, also feeling it normal to want to do that for some reason. “Her loss, I mean, discounted dildos and food? Huge loss.”

He laughs at your comments, briefly looking over at you once he stops at a red light. Your eyes are shining with life, with interest even. At that moment, he feels something between the two of you. Which is quite strange considering this is your first time officially meeting him outside of his working hours. He can’t help the way his face softens though, it happens against his will, honestly, it does. 

“You’re kind of cute,” You blurt, breaking eye contact with him and shifting in your seat. “and fun to hang out with.” 

“Hang out?” He laughs at you, eyes now adjusting back to the road and lowering his speed just to have a bit more time with you. “This is hardly a hang-out, but if you’re interested, I’m more than willing to check my schedule to see when I’m free next.”

You feel confidence raise up in your chest, bubbling to be free in the form of a question likely too bold to actually consider.

“You’re free right now…right?” You comment quietly, glancing at him. 

“Hm?” He asks, tightening his grip on the steering wheel and feeling your eyes on him. He heard you, but he wouldn’t mind hearing you repeat it.

“I said, you’re free right now.” You repeat, this time with more confidence. “Would it be too forward to ask if –”

“Nothing is too forward to ask, I literally sold you a dildo.” 

You pause in shock, all thoughts leaving your head.

“Damn, alright,” You laugh, feeling kind of warm inside at how his forwardness matches your own. “If you’re free right now, we could hang out right now.” 

How lucky for both of you. He’s actually not catering tomorrow and only has to be at work at the good ol’ sex shop in the evening. 

“Alright,” He nods, glancing over to you. “Kind of fucked up we are hanging out after I met your entire family and still haven’t gotten a name from you yet though, wouldn’t you think?” 

Oh fuck, he’s right. 

“I’m sure you heard the kids yelling it all day. Don’t be dramatic.”

He laughs, already in love with the idea of spending more time with you. 

And you hear him echo your name, asking where it is that you’d like to go. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

If your parents were to ask why you’re walking through your apartment building with the caterer following behind you, you’d have no excuse. Then again, as an adult, you don’t think you need one. It’s strange despite how open and casual you are with making friends though, because you never just invite strangers to your place for friendship. At least, not without hanging out a few times first. 

You guess it’s not super awkward because it’s true that he already knows things about you that your family doesn’t. Such as, the things you penetrate yourself with when you’re alone. It’s a major ice breaker, and something that makes the friendship with him come easy even after barely talking to the guy.

The few words you have shared have been easy and fun, so it’s only natural that if your instinct is to want to be around him a little longer, you’d invite him in right? You weren’t really expecting him to accept your answer to his question. 

“Where to then?” 

You thought for a moment when he asked that. You don’t go to clubs or bars anymore, most places would have been closing within the hour, and it’s not like you didn’t eat to peak fullness during the family reunion so having a late dinner with him was out of the question too. You answered him so easily, and he accepted in a way that seemed just as natural to him. 

“We could just hang out at my place, I’ve got plenty of streaming services, a gaming system, and wine.”

“Sounds good.” 

It was so easy to become friends with him, and now with him following you up to your apartment, the typical awkwardness that should come with this type of thing isn’t swarming your mind at all. He’s even making small talk about the building itself after parking in your parking spot. 

“This building is way nicer than mine, you got a door code and everything just to get in.”

“Wasn’t always like this. Being a single woman in a city like this calls for safety measures though.”

A little box in his head checks out. He didn’t even have to ask if you’re single, because he already assumed you were with the way you so easily invited him over. And in all fairness, you’ve been trying to find a reason to slip in your relationship status to him. 

By the time you get to your door with him, he’s polite when he walks in and takes off his shoes. Polite in the way he looks around and studies your space, even polite in the way he walks into the living room and invites himself onto your couch and grabs your remote. 

“I was going to say make yourself comfortable but–”

“Well, would you prefer I sit on your floor?” He shoots back with a sarcastic tone in his voice. “Would you prefer I start digging through your cabinets for snacks? Would you prefer–”

“You’re so much more talkative when I’m not trying to buy something from you.” You comment with a laugh, dipping into the kitchen for two glasses and that cheap bottle of wine. 

“Speaking of, do you actually use that thing and like it? I mean, I see some weird purchases but that specific one is super popular with the fetish groups.”

For the first time, you feel heat rise to your cheeks. You should have known that the sex toy would be a point of conversation, considering the first time you ever met was buying it. 

“Yes, I use it. I’m surprised you find it shocking considering it’s literally your job to know what people like in terms of getting off.”

He smiles at that, because you’re damn right he knows. Most of the time he would prefer not to know, but he always did wonder if, on the off chance, he ended up hooking up with a customer he’d have some prior knowledge of how they like it based on toys alone. 

“You know, normally people don’t buy toys on a Monday at nine in the morning.” 

“I buy toys at nine in the morning on a Monday,” You chuckle, carrying the two glasses and wine into the living room and plopping down next to him. “Why does that matter? I’m sure you make your quotas even on the slow days considering how hard you were trying to up-sell me.”

He shrugs as he watches you pour him a glass. 

“It’s easy to up-sell when you know people’s kinks after a few purchases. I do that to everyone just to gauge what they need so if they come back I can make more offers.”

“A true salesman.” You laugh with a pitied voice. “What would you say my kink is?”

He studies you, looking you up and down without shame and thinking hard about your single purchase. 

“Well, considering that specific item is, again, usually looked at by a specific type of person or couple, I’d say–”

“Wrong.” You interrupt before he even tries to make a guess. “I don’t have a kink, I just have a really high sex drive.”

You take a sip at his silence of being beaten to the punch, and then he takes his own thoughtful sip. 

“Okay then, What do you think my kink is?” He asks slyly, cup still against his lips as he sips again. 

“Wha–” You narrow your eyes at him, trying not to stare at him for too long because goddamn is he handsome. “Hell if I know, you probably don’t even have sex after being in a hyper-sexualized space like that for hours on end.”

“Wrong.” He pokes his tongue into his cheek and looks away from you with another casual chuckle.

“Are you telling me you have a pocket pussy or like, a buttplug or something?”

“Three pocket pussies, actually.”

You don’t know why you’re shocked. For some reason his sex toys becoming the focus makes you feel more shy than your own being the focus. 

“I bet you named them.”

“Pocket 1, Pocket 2, and Jessica.”

“Jessica?” You raise a brow despite the sarcastic banter, wondering if maybe that’s based on his ex girlfriend or something. 

He nods in a matter-of-fact tone with a proud smile. 

You feel comfortable around him, never having a friend who openly talks to you about these things without any type of awkwardness. It’s the fact that he’s a man too. Usually they think with their dicks and he seems to have no qualms in admitting that it’s something he may do from time to time too. 

You imagine he needs this type of personality to work such a job though, being casual about sex can be so difficult for your average joe because for some reason, it is embarrassing. It’s hard to talk about even to sex-shop employees. You like to think he’s probably someone who makes others feel comfortable about their sexual habits though, because you feel comfortable. 

“I’m lying by the way.” He cuts through your thoughts, “I only have two.” 

You nod energetically with a laugh. 

“Variety is good.” You continue, not mentioning the array of toys you have stashed away. 

“Yeah, I think experimenting with different things is good. I only really liked the two I kept though, I guess.”

“And yet, you’re shocked about my single dildo purchase without knowing of my other items of interest? I could have just been trying something new too, y’know.”

Another sip of wine, and another glance away from him because you were looking a little too fondly at that little scar on his nose, the birth mark on his neck, the way his lips crease when he swallows his drink and– yeah, you definitely glance away.

“No one buys that as a first time experience.” He comments, tapping the cup against his lips and looking at you.

You’re a little stunned by him, never having met a man so open to speaking like this, with a woman he barely knows no less. 

“Okay, enough about my dildo. I actually have a question about something you might have in stock but I’ve kind of been too embarrassed to ask until now.”

He nods, his personality shifting only slightly into that as the manager of the sex-shop.

“Oh? Embarrassed? Since when?” He jokes at first. “What is it then?”

“Do you guys have like,” you pause, unsure of why you’re even trying to ask. Again, it’s not like masturbation is embarrassing, nor is the purchasing of toys. Asking for a specific item is a bit too intimate to you though, seeing as how you usually just buy those things online. “Okay hear me out.”

“Tentacles? Furry buttplugs with tails attached? Bondage rope? Paddles?”

“No…” You pause at his spewing of different types of toys. “I know you have all of that.”

He pauses, studying the way you make yourself a bit smaller compared to just minutes before.

“Do you guys have sex dolls for women? You know, like, just a doll with a very normal dick?”

Jay fucking snorts. How mundane. 

Unfortunately for you though, Nope. 

“Nah, the owner tries to cater more towards men and fetish stuff. We’ve got fem tantaly dolls and all sorts of blow up dolls but he’s never brought in just like, a torso with a cock, if that’s what you’re asking.”

You shrug. 

“Guess sticking it to the wall is all I can do for now then. But like,” You pause, realizing that you’re actually going into detail at this point, which might be a little uncomfortable for him? Maybe? “It’s really annoying to have it sticking to the floor, and you’re like, riding it and it just pops off and stabs your thigh slipping out mid-orgasm.”

He snorts again, that pretty smile you’ve seen time and time again echoing the most attractive laugh you think you’ve heard in a long time. This time, his smile doesn’t fade as the seconds pass, no. He’s unable to stop laughing at the image of whatever orgasm instilled the frustration in you to even mention that happening. He tries to stifle his laughter with the last sip of his wine before choking it down and pushing his glass at you for more. 

“Noted,” He snorts, nodding his head and almost hiding his face from you. “I’ll tell the boss we need male sex dolls so the women don’t get dick-stabbed where they don’t need it mid orgasm.”

You glare. 

“Wait, no, because it actually hurts.” You frown at him. “I just wish your shop catered a little more to women who just wanna ride a dick without the dangers of riding said dick.” 

“Maybe you should slow down next time so the full force of your–” He pauses, realizing how sexual the image in his head is of you right now. “Um…” He trails off uncomfortably, unintentionally adjusting himself in his jeans by spreading his legs slightly against your couch. 

“Okay, wait. I’m sorry, is this conversation too much right now?” You ask, looking him up and down and giving him a new glass of wine. “You’re blushing.”

He tries to play it off. 

“As if you could make me blush.” He laughs at you, downing half of his glass in one go. “To make up for our lack of product though, and if you don’t tell anyone, I’ll give you a discount on your next purchase just for embarrassing yourself telling me that.”

“Oh, I was supposed to be embarrassed?” You counter, knowing that all you need to do is point out that he got flustered to shut him up. You opt not to because still, the two of you barely know each other. Instead, you opt to laugh along with him, letting your gaze fall back to studying all of those features he has that you didn’t quite notice before.

While you did notice he was handsome before, it’s not like you paid that thought any mind. There are a lot of handsome men out and about after all. It only starts to matter when they allow you to get close enough to appreciate it more. Not to mention, in your experience at various sex shops, most employees of them are mundane and nonchalant. Some are strange old men, or cool old women. Jay though? Jay.

Hmm…how to explain him?

With his messy hair that covers his eyes every time he whips his head toward you in a laugh, with his sharp jawed smile and pretty eyes. The little marks and celestial kisses against his skin that shows you of a life he’s been living. He feels…warm. Like everything about him looks comforting, smells comforting, sounds comforting. And now, even compared to when you met him at the shop, even at the reunion just this afternoon…he’s so much more handsome in this moment. 

Learning his personality, hearing his voice say your name, having him take the time to not only help you but befriend you? 

His shoulders are broad, and he’s just… you don’t even know how to explain to yourself the attraction you have toward him at this moment. Handsome is one thing, and you would have continued calling him that if it weren’t for the fact that he’s laughing with you on your couch about a ruined orgasm. 

“You know, Jay,” You start, looking into your glass and swirling the liquid inside, then you look up again and make eye contact. “I’m really not usually this forward but like,”

His brain stops for a moment at the serious tone in your voice, his expression softens and you can tell he’s listening. 

“I know masturbation and stuff is normal, and like, you see and talk about these things all the time but I never really talk about it to other people, they always get weird about it.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s true. I can’t say this is the most normal hang out I've ever had. Usually we talk about our favorite movies or books or something.”

You wave him off. 

“Yeah, that’s a good point. We could talk about our favorite movies but I find myself, um–” You stop for a second. 

“Is talking about it making you realize that it’s uncomfortable?” 

“No, the opposite actually.” You laugh, now actually feeling embarrassed. “I keep thinking about you mentioning the other things you’ve bought and experimented with.”

“Oh? You’re curious?” He laughs, now feeling a bit shy himself because he’s pretty sure that’s you asking him to put images in your head. “I mean I could go into detail but it actually might be too-telling right now.”

You nod, unsure of why you even suggested.

“Maybe next time?” You change the subject with a smile, one that does seem slightly disappointed. 

“There’s a next time?” He smiles, setting his glass down on your table and shifting toward you.

“I don’t see why not? I’m having fun, plus you offered me a discount.”

He nods, looking around the room and checking the time. 

“I should probably head out then? We’ve both had a long day.” 

You nod back to him, feeling a bit sad. 

“When are you free next?” You ask, grabbing your phone in a way that seems a bit too excited. “Can you give me your number?”

He obliges, exchanging phone numbers and promising to contact you with his next free day or night to hang out. Just as he goes to leave though, for some reason both of you feel as though the satisfaction of this hang out wasn’t reaching full potential. 

“Hey, um,” He stops before he puts his shoes back on. “Would it be too forward to say I’m not tired and wouldn’t mind–”

“Staying for a bit longer?” You finish his sentence for him, patting the couch as if that was also on your mind.

He doesn’t even respond, and instead makes his way back onto the couch where the cushion is still warm, unable to help the fluttering feeling in his chest.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

It's almost two in the morning by the time he offers to leave again, and yet, he stays at your clear disappointment of the offer. Another hour later, the two of you are sitting contently and pretending to watch some shitty tv show in comfortable silence. 

“We should say something.” He blurts, mid episode.

“What do you mean?”

He turns toward you. 

“We should talk about this.” He motions at the space between the two of you. 

You’re silent while you try to build up the confidence to meet him half-way again. 

“You can correct me if you’re not interested but I actually really would like it if you kissed me or something.” He adds as you continue to process what he seems to be getting at.

You’re taken aback by his forwardness for some reason, and instantly you knew he didn’t communicate this earlier for your own sake. Thankfully, you’ve tried to make it easy for him to read you and he ate it up like his favorite meal. The content feeling between the two of you was buzzing up to this point. Very loudly in your brain where you were thinking of how to kiss him before the night is up. Even as just a “thank you” if he were to turn away from it. 

“Oh yeah?” You ask, tilting your head and seeing him scoot closer. “Kiss you, or something?”

He nods his head, looking at you without much issue and searching for a reaction. 

“Are you interested in me like that, in any way?” He asks, looking for confirmation.

“Oh, most definitely.”

The smile that spreads across his face is one that you can argue will be unforgettable. It’s an expression you hope to bring to every person in your life, one that seems to express nothing but relief, excitement, and maybe even a hint of bashfulness.

“You thought I'd invite you inside without being interested?” You smile at him, feeling a little bit fuzzy in the head at the admittance. 

“I thought you were just being nice, or like, just interested in friendship,” He rambles on, stopping himself short to give more context to that statement. “I mean, it would be fine if this was all for friendship and I'm happy with that too but I can admit to coming into your apartment with maybe, uh, a small crush.” 

“I can admit to inviting you in with a small crush, maybe.” 

“Maybe.”

“Are we being too forward?” You ask, emphasizing the repetitive way that word seems to appear. “Even though you’re in my apartment at an ungodly hour and both of us are giving any and every excuse to keep you here?”

He smiles this time in a way that appears to be self-soothing, and you can imagine you are too. It’s always nerve-wracking to walk on eggshells with another person, the threat of wondering if you'll fall alone or fall with them into a new version of partnership. 

You don’t think about the lack of knowing him past a purchase, a quick conversation at a family reunion, or the past several hours he’s huddled up with you on this couch. You simply don’t think it’s strange at this point. After all, you’ve met people online and invited them over without much more than a name, age, and quick conversation about what they want sexually. How is this worse? How is this strange? 

“You’re right. Maybe we should stop being so polite when the reality of it is that I’ve been imagining what you’ve done with that toy since the day you bought it.” 

Okay, maybe that was too forward but all is lost now as your image of him changes drastically within the mere seconds it took him to say that, not in a bad way either. Again, of course he’s comfortable admitting it, the dude stares at dicks and holes all day. But now he’s staring at you, and talking directly to you.

Your silence makes him shift a bit, shaking his head apologetically. 

“Found the boundary, got it.” He shames himself with a timid voice, looking away from you and back to the tv with a hint of embarrassment. “I’m not lying though.” He adds after a few more minutes of your silence.

“Not much of a boundary if I admit that I was blatantly asking you earlier what you’ve done to experiment with your toys.”

“Aha! So I was right in thinking you were straight up asking for mind-porn of me?!” He feels instantly comfortable again, turning his entire body toward you as he folds up one of his legs to sit on with a little bounce. 

“Maybe, but what do you mean you’ve been imagining since I bought it? You barely made eye contact with me that day.”

“Oh, I was checking you out the whole time you shopped. Imagine my face when I knew exactly what toy you were reaching for.”

You shove him by the shoulder with a laugh, realizing that this is the first bodily contact you’ve ever had with him, but he actually leans into your shove rather than out of it. Meaning, he barely budges. 

“If I looked you in the eye at the register, you would have thought I was some pervert.” 

“You are a pervert. You said it had, what? Twelve other colors?” 

He shrugs with a pained smile at how cringe he must have sounded to you. 

“You seemed more like a sparkly pink girl rather than a normal flesh tone girl. Then again, this was before I knew you were looking for a literal male sex doll for super normal pretend-sex.”

You shove him again, your laugh coming out more forced now at the way he jokes with you. Once again, he doesn’t budge. In fact, he’s leaning in closer. 

“Now hold on, you didn’t mention anything about one having glitter in it.” You joke, wiggling your brows. 

“You trying to fuck a man or a magic unicorn?” He laughs yet again, all of it coming out more forced as the two of you drag out information just to hear the dirty words in a voice you’re only just realizing you like far too much. 

“A man.” You dead-pan, this time not laughing, looking him dead in the eye and trying to pretend you don’t notice how close the two of you have gotten. “Why else would I go for more human skin tones?”

“Fuck if I know, I haven’t met a single man who has vibration settings or rolling beads though.” 

You snort. 

“Shame…but also, why do you think I’m on the hunt for the most mundane sex toy a woman can buy now? The rolling beads almost had me passing out.” 

“Was it too much?” He asks seriously, hoping to god it was. 

“A little bit, yeah.”

“I can imagine you want something to feel real after that.”

For some reason, his words hit you straight in the gut. Your stomach drops as your attraction heightens, and suddenly you’re just staring at him as you respond. 

“I can imagine so, yeah.” 

He stares back, almost no space between the two of you as the banter only brought you both mentally and physically as close as possible without becoming twisted together. 

“When was the last time you felt something real?” He asks against his better judgment, wondering if you’re on the same page with him. Wondering if all this banter was leading to somewhere or nowhere. Because he could have sworn admitting to wanting you to kiss him, and you’ve yet to do so. 

“A month and a half.” You respond dryly, suddenly needing something to drink. 

He glances down at your neck when you swallow around your words, then stares at your lips before breathing in a sigh. One that was supposed to relieve the tension in this moment, but only building it more because he knows you see him do it. He knows you see him wet his bottom lip too.

“Are you going to kiss me, or are you planning to wait another month and a half to get what you want?” He continues on his streak of boldness as if to distract you from noticing the sexual tension, feeling his heart skip beats at the intensity of the moment. 

“It’s not like we have anything better to do.” You start, leaning in and still looking straight into his eyes.

“Are you suggesting that I’m boring?” He narrows his eyes as he feels your breath against his lips, still sweet from the wine that did close to nothing in terms of altering the brain. The two of you are totally planted into reality, if anything, a little drunk on the other. 

“Not at all.” You adjust your words from earlier, there, hovering just over his lips. “I’m just saying that nothing is more interesting than kissing you right now.”

Oh, the fluttering in his belly is so fucking intense right now. No eighteen inch alien tentacle dildo on a shelf could scare him as much as you do at this moment. Intimidatingly outspoken and aware of your wants and needs. His eyelashes flutter just like his stomach does, closing them slowly until he can feel your lips on his. 

Your stomach, on the other hand, has been doing flips since the first instance he admitted to wanting to stay. All of the tension, all of the comfortable silence, all of the glances, the smiles, the laughing, all of it was leading up to this. The moment your lips hit his, they feel much like you imagined they would. 

Soft, plush, warm. The thin lipped grins he’s given you all day now laying flat against your own lips, no longer grinning, now just wanting. And he’s gentle, so fucking gentle with it. Never has a man asked you to kiss him. Usually they close the gap to try and swoon you. It appears you’re both being swooned by each other at the moment though, and his soft kiss only pulls back momentarily before he leans forward, closer.

The third touch, save for you shoving him, his lips on yours, and now…his hand on your cheek. Caressing so gently as he deepens the kiss with ease. The heat rises up and through your skin at the simple touch. You think he must feel it with the way he chuckles into the kiss and starts peppering them against your lips over and over again. A split second between each lay of his lips, and then another solid kiss. One where you finally start moving yours too.

It’s slow and languid in the way he kisses you like this, barely even darting his tongue out but focusing more on your cheek against his palm. He can feel your jaw move as you kiss and can’t help but love what’s happening, and when you’re the one to lick against his lower lip, he falls in so easily. 

That little movement from you, that little feeling of your tongue experimentally prodding his lips open releases the last bit of tension holding him back. He pulls back to look at you and you’re not backing down even slightly. 

“Does this feel more real for you?” He asks in a snide way, swiping your bottom lip with his thumb of the glistening saliva before tilting his head with a smile. 

You very nearly roll your eyes at him for that. And by very nearly, you do roll your eyes at him and can’t help but smile yet again. 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” He says, palm still against your cheek, tips of his fingers toying with the baby hairs on your hair-line. “because I can imagine that the toy couldn’t ki-”

You shoot forward to kiss him again, only just realizing how awkward the positioning is considering neither of you were probably expecting more than a first kiss. 

He laughs into it, knowing you were silencing him of something that could arguably be the most cringe-worthy thing he can say after kissing you. His laughs start to stifle though, as you press forward and somehow manage to have his back against the seat of the couch and you planting yourself on top of him. 

“Can you shut up about the toy now? I thought we got past that,” You argue as you pull back, your cheek already missing the feeling of his palm against it. “You can’t just act like this and then say some dumb shit like that.”

You’re joking, he knows it. If anything, you’re complimenting him right now and he eats it the fuck up as he stares up at you. 

“Was I wrong though?” 

You take a moment to look at him, realizing that this is the man who you just kissed. With his hair a mess and fanned out on the cushions, strands falling in front of his eyes, but mostly swept back and exposing the entirety of his forehead to you. 

You reach forward and brush a strand from his eyes. 

“Actually, say whatever you want.” You correct yourself and manage to ignore his question.

“Why the sudden change of heart?” He half-chuckles as he brings his hands up to sit against your waist, hoping you don’t pull out of the intimate position the two of you are in. 

“I don’t know, I was just looking at you and thought it would be stupid for me to try to argue with you right now.”

“Why’s that?” He prods for more compliments, feeling himself twitch at the way you look hovering over him. 

“Are you trying to argue right now?” You tilt your head, adjusting yourself now to sit directly on his thighs and lay forward, both hands cushioning your chin on his chest as you straddle him. 

“Would it be so wrong to admit that you’re fun when you argue with me?” 

You can feel him breathe under you, nearly rocking you further and further into whatever headspace Jay seems to put you in. It’s too comfortable, and it almost feels as though you’ve been with him for years now. You barely know him, yet you’re lying on him as if you got married two years ago. Insane how this works. How the heart works, or the brain, or whatever drives the arousal you’re feeling right now. 

“Will you argue if I ask to show you my room?” You start, lifting back up and away from his chest, now scooting forward a bit. You don’t dare sit on it yet, but you very much would like to if he were to suggest not moving at all from this couch. “My bed.”

He stutters and quickly quiets his excited words, replacing his voice with a nod and a sharp inhale.

“Hah! Telling me to argue and instantly buckling the second I mention my bed.” You laugh, pulling yourself up and sauntering out of his view.

He stares at the ceiling for a moment, in a daze over just how much he likes you. He wonders, would you be shocked to know he hasn’t had sex in much longer compared to you? One and a half months for you? That’s nothing to him. He’s been besties with his right hand for at least six months by now. Trust him when he says that it truly was difficult to not turn into a hormonal idiot when he saw you in the shop that day. 

Finally, he shakes himself out of the spaced out horny brain staring at your ceiling and stands to his feet. He’s quick to adjust the bulge in his jeans, uncomfortably shaking his leg before looking toward where you walked off to.

“Um.” He stops, realizing you were watching him, looking directly at the spot he just adjusted. “I mean,” He tries to start again, adjusting again as he feels it slowly move out from its tucked place. “Listen,”

“No, I get it.” You say, snickering at his embarrassment as if he somehow doesn’t know you were suggesting at least some foreplay by moving to your room.

“Of course you do,” He drops his head, now blatantly shoving his hands down his pants to adjust before looking back up and taking a step forward. “You’re the one who sat on me like that.”

“Please, I didn’t even sit on it.” 

“Didn’t need to.” He shrugs, now coming up to you and waiting for you to guide him through your space and into your room. 

Once the two of you get there, him not even attempting to hide that he is very aroused at this moment, you’re very quick to turn and face him once he comes inside. 

“We are on the same page, right?” You ask, looking at his lips and the way they still look so kissable. 

“As far as I know, with all things considered.” He responds, looking down at himself and how pathetic he must seem in getting so aroused by nothing more than a kiss and a position change. 

You smile, reaching for his hand and watching him tumble forward to you. Now standing mere inches in front of you. 

“Do you want to see it?” You ask, a cheeky smirk on your face as you turn away from him and run to your bedside table. 

He has no idea what the fuck you’re referring to until he sees it. There, in all of its non-human glory. Jay ticks his tongue, curiously straining his neck out to peek at what else is in your drawer as he walks closer. 

You make no attempt to close the drawer and instead pull out another one, and another one, another one.

“If you keep pulling out toys I’ll start to think you were lying in saying you wanted to feel something more, um–”

“Real?” You say, turning from your presented line-up of toys to look at him. 

He nods, gazing over the toys, four dildos all far bigger than he is. 

“I can admit that men can’t vibrate, nor do they have those little rotating beats but,” You chuckle at the conversation, scooping the toys up quicker than you laid them out and tossing them back into the drawer. “They’re not warm, or attached to someone that can kiss me. They’re also not witty.”

You study his expression.

“They don’t make me laugh before getting me off.” You continue, wondering if you may actually be too forward about this now. 

He’s rendered a bit speechless, which is rare for him in any given situation. He always has a quick response, not at this moment though as he looks at you. He wonders if you pity that obvious act of self-doubt upon seeing your toys. 

“They’re not attached to you.” You add, this time stifling your chuckle, because it’s a pretty funny conversation if you look at it from the outside but you can imagine he must be feeling some type of way to be so quiet.

He thinks hard about it, knowing damn well where this was leading and pushing for it himself. Hearing you now though, so confidently say these things, all doubt erases from his mind. 

“Before we do anything,” he starts, his shaky voice coming out more confident as he continues. “Is this just a hook-up to you or are you feeling the way I’m feeling right now?”

You look at him with a question in your eyes. He was kind of shocked that you didn’t finish for him this time, actually. 

“Like, you know if we do this, I’m going to be calling to take you out to dinner at some point unless you say you don’t want me to, right?”

You hadn’t thought of anything past him since you’ve gotten here. You didn’t think about anything more than hanging out with him, and now, kissing him, and maybe you know, feeling him. For some reason though, despite the lack of sex you’ve had lately, him saying that only arouses you more. It’s been so long since you’ve intended to sleep with someone and have them want to stick around after. Some of the people you’ve been with didn’t even ask for your number. Is this what adult relationships are actually like? 

“As in, you’d want to see where this goes in the–”

“Future, yes. I’m not just going to fuck you and pretend I didn’t when I see you again.”

Shockingly, that’s a first for you and you like the feeling it gives you. Plus, him implying that he’s about to, or very willing to, fuck you sends a wave of fondness through you.

“Alright. Let’s not call it a hook up then.” You say, the playful arousal from before stifling out at the idea of being intimate with someone who is making you aware that you’ll see him again, now being replaced with…feelings? Arousal with feelings?

“What should we call it?” 

“A date?” You say back immediately, sitting on your bed and finally closing your bedside drawer. 

“Oh, you fuck on the first date?” 

You laugh at how quickly his wit comes back, especially with the way he crowds up and stands in front of you. 

“With you? Looks like it.” You smile wide for him, feeling the tension bleed away and replace itself again with the arousal of him standing and looking down at you. 

“How did we not meet earlier?” He asks, leaning down a bit as if to kiss you.

“Fuck if I know, I bought all of those toys at your shop.”

“Ah, right. Nine in the morning on a Monday. I don’t usually work mornings.”

“Guess I got lucky last time then.”

“I guess you did.” He adds like a period to a sentence, finally kissing you again and making no effort to hide the fact that he’s attempting to lay you down much like you did to him before. 

You let him, falling back on your bed and feeling him nudge your legs to spread. Again, you let him, feeling your heart begin to race with excitement in the way he kisses you now versus how he did it earlier. 

There is clear intent behind it this time, as he positions himself between your legs. Your heart only races faster when one of his hands slides down your arm and he tangles his fingers with yours. It’s all very intimate to be coming from a man you officially met today, but you really do feel lucky. 

Lucky that he works two jobs, lucky that your family throws lame ass reunions every five years, lucky that you left your headlights on during a sunny sunday afternoon, lucky that your battery died. 

It’s so normal already to smile into the kiss and feel giddy inside. Never have you smiled into a kiss save for laughing when a leg cramp happens mid-fuck. You can’t believe how much you’ve smiled and laughed today, and you can’t believe he’s making you react this way just by holding your fucking hand and kissing you this way. 

He laughs when you react though, probably feeling at ease on your bed with you under him, squeezing your fingers tightly each time he licks against your tongue. And when he pulls back to breathe, you just look at him and the way his hair hangs in front of his eyes. He looks so pretty at this angle, even when he’s moving slowly, even when his other hand remains planted beside your head to hold his weight from falling onto you. 

It’s not been since highschool that you’ve laid with someone simply making out, fully clothed, giggling. You’re unsure of how he’s pulled this out of you, because usually when a man is on top of you, you’re already trying to get his clothes off. But this? This is something that you want to last. You want it to be slower than a usual fuck, because you like when he’s here with you. Whether on top of you or not, there was a reason he’s stayed this late already and you already know it wasn’t solely to fuck you.

“Did you expect to be on top of me someday?” You ask between kisses, and he takes that as an invitation to laugh against your neck and tickle your cheek with his messy hair. 

“Expect it? No,” He starts, leaving a kiss just under your ear before lowering his lips to the collar of your shirt and kissing there too. “Hoped I could, though.” 

Your heart swells up at that. You realized he must have meant it when he admitted to having a small crush on you. Only now do you realize that the curiosity that brought you back up to the food-table during the reunion may have been the start of a crush on your end too. 

You don’t say anything more after that and instead fall into the feeling of his lips kissing along your collar. For some reason the sensation of his lips pushing the fabric out of the way so he can kiss new exposed skin makes you feel incredibly wanted. Maybe it’s the pace, or maybe it’s just because you really really like him, and want him to want you. 

“Do you want to take it off?” You ask after a few more of his kisses, wanting to control yourself but also very much wanting to feel his lips everywhere else too. 

You can feel him nod in the form of his hair tickling your cheek more. But he doesn’t move from that spot at first, continuing to kiss you the same way and in the same places. You let him, up until he finally sighs and pulls back. 

Looking at him now, even compared to a few moments ago, he looks even more pretty. His eyes are now soft, you can almost see the lines from where he’s smiled for you all day. His lips, looking more kissable than they did the past two times you thought they looked as kissable as they ever could. His eyebrows, showing no signs of tension but permanently arched in a way that makes him appear constantly moody. 

You’re staring and you’re not intending to hide it. Even as he lifts your shirt from your waist and starts to pull it up. You barely budge as you stare, and stare, until you can’t because he’s trying to pull your shirt over your head.

“If you’d stop staring for two seconds maybe I could get this off of you–” He smiles knowingly, finally pulling it off when you arch your back and then prop yourself up slightly with your hands. “There.”

He sighs when he says it, going silent and almost frozen at the image of your nearly-naked torso. You watch him stare now, a smirk forming all too quickly.

“Now look who’s staring.” You chuckle, noting that his eyes still don’t leave the newly exposed skin or the fabric of your bra.

“Yeah, I am.” He admits, wetting his lower lip again and then flicking his eyes to you. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Suddenly, that eye contact makes you feel shy. You’re more naked than he is, despite mostly being dressed still.

“You know,” you start, avoiding his intense eye contact just to get the words out. “If we just take all of our clothes off now, it would probably be easier.”

He lets out a breathy chuckle at you but nods, already lifting his shirt off and going for his zipper and button.

“There’s no rush, but if you’d prefer we do,” He scoots back and away from you, standing to his feet to shove his jeans down his legs. “I don’t mind.”

You watch him undress and lose all ability to act on your own for a solid thirty seconds before you finally start panic-shimming the rest of your clothing off. Save for bra and panties, and he, now standing there clad in only a pair of form-fitting briefs. 

You’re glad he isn’t as shy as you at this moment though, or rather, he appears to be entirely infatuated with your body and doesn’t look away from it for even a moment to feel embarrassed himself at standing on the side of your bed nearly nude. 

“No rush?” You ask, when he finally trails his eyes up to you and takes his position between your legs from earlier. Except now, you can see his biceps and the way they flex, now, you can feel the immense amount of warmth radiating from him. Now, his hair is even more of a mess.

“I can try,” He says quietly, balancing on one hand and lowering his lips to yours once more, trying to ignore how dangerously close his length is to bumping against your core. “No promises now, though.”

You smirk, wondering where he lost his self control within that short span of time where you got undressed. He cuts your chuckle off mid-way though, now kissing you again and moving his hand up and down your waist. It tickles and causes goosebumps to form all over you, to the point that you can’t help but sigh into his kiss. 

He continues, still holding his hips back from grinding against you, kissing you as good as he can until trailing back to your neck again. 

It’s not until you run your fingers through his hair that he sighs himself. That relief and heavenly feeling of your fingers scraping the back of his neck— such a simple touch can literally send him straight to hell at this point and he wouldn’t care a single bit as long as it’s from you and your hands. 

He lowers himself more, just to prevent his hips from intruding into this moment only to lock his lips onto the mound of your breast, other hand lowering so he can lay down and push your bra to the side a bit. 

The cold air that hits your nipple is short-lived when you feel him immediately suck it into his mouth with a deep breath. You continue to scratch through his hair, now using your other hand to nearly hug his head in place as you feel the sensations shoot straight between your legs. Each flick of his tongue sends signals to your brain to go! go! go! But much like him, you hold back, even though your legs still manage to squeeze his body between yours in an attempt to find the friction he isn’t yet offering. 

He continues this for a few minutes, and then works his fingers under the bra on the other side of your chest before switching his lips to that one. Perking them up so perfectly that he can graze his teeth against either nipple and feel your legs react to it. All of it is turning him on beyond belief, it’s dangerously attractive to him now too, to know that you have several toys that could have already gotten you off by now, but you choose this. You choose his lips playing with your tits, and your legs doing an amazing job of showing him your lack of control. After all, toys can’t give you the foreplay that he can.

His lips continue their work, up until he’s trailing further and further down, making your sighs hitch higher and higher in pitch. He kisses your waist, just above your belly button, then just below your belly button before leaning back.

There, he looks directly at the seat of your panties and smiles at the wet spot there. He plants a kiss right in the center of your mess  before climbing back up and caressing your cheek again. 

“You’re wet.” He comments in a huskier voice than he normally uses, balancing yet again on his other arm.

Goddamn, if this is how he sounds when he’s with a girl then you feel more lucky than before. You can’t imagine the amount of women who have fallen completely in love with this guy. And, before you can actually respond to him with another cheeky comment, his hand on your cheek disappears and is instantly between your legs, cupping you there and even scooting you up the bed with the force of how he grabs you.

You hitch out a sigh and look at him with a smile.

“Obviously.” You say back, rolling your eyes playfully before unintentionally bucking your hips into the pressure his palm offers against your clit. 

“Cute too.” He adds, lifting his palm to run his fingers up the wet spot on your panties before pressing in slightly. 

You can feel the fabric stick to you uncomfortably, but it still feels so fucking good. Any amount of touching from him feels good, if you’re being honest. 

“And you’re teasing me.” You argue, looking away from his smirk as he plays with the wet fabric against his fingers. 

“Just ask. I’m not teasing you if you're not telling me what you want.” 

You shoot your eyes back to him, a mixture of curiosity and shock in your eyes. It’s true though, you are a little shocked. Most men really just do what they want, and so do you. Never have you been asked what you want. 

Your eyes trail down as far as they can, what his hand is doing is mostly hidden between your legs but you focus entirely on the way his arms flex as his fingers travel up and down your panties. 

“You want me to ask?” You question, hips bucking up again unintentionally. 

“Not so much ask, but like, tell me what you want.”

He nods to himself as he says it, licking his bottom lip and pressing the fabric of your panties in yet again. 

It’s not that he doesn’t want to do what he wants right now though, definitely not. He just figures you know your body far better than he does, and he’d rather not make assumptions and embarrass himself when you could just ask him or better, guide him. Who is he to assume you want his fingers right now anyway?

“I’ve never…” You start, swallowing your words as your brain goes back to focusing on his fingers momentarily. “I haven’t–”

He knows what you’re trying to say, so he attempts to make it a bit easier for you. 

“Do you want me to pull your panties to the side?” 

You sigh with a nod, looking at him and allowing him to guide you through telling him what you want.

“Do you want me to touch you?” 

You nod again, pushing your head back against the mattress out of frustration that you, for some reason, can’t find the words to just tell him yourself. 

He listens to your body though, more than your weak nods and frustrated sighs. The way your legs shake when he asks, the way you react to the air hitting your folds when he does push your panties to the side. He can’t bear to look down yet though, because he knows for a fact that if he were to pull back and look at you in full, he’d no longer be asking you what you want. He’d be embarrassing for sure. 

You can feel his fingers now sliding through your folds though, bare pussy out and on display but not yet being looked at, only being felt. And arguably, all you can do right now is feel too, as he leans forward to kiss you in this silent moment. 

His fingers continue to explore as he kisses you, collecting all of your arousal and swirling it around your clit before sliding back down and prodding at your entrance. You make a sound at that, kissing him a little harder than before when he lets out a hum.

“Hm?” He hums against your lips, and you nod to him. 

There, he dips a finger in only slightly. Your arms reach around his neck at the feeling and pull him closer to you. To the point that you can feel him struggle to angle his hands right to slide in deeper, but you pay no mind to it. At least not until you kiss the fucking daylights out of him.

That, you do. Kissing him with full-force and making a show of how turned on you are for him. He feels it, with or without your kiss bruising him. The wetness on the tip of his finger only becomes wetter, and when you release your grip around his neck, he still doesn’t leave the kiss.

He goes back to gently kissing you, focusing more on his fingers than what his tongue is doing. He slides that same finger in all the way now, feeling your walls clench almost instantly and beg for more. Chuckling at the feeling, he fucks his finger into you experimentally before pulling them out and adjusting two fingers at your entrance. 

“Hm?” He hums again, and you nod again.

So, two fingers slide in and you’re releasing a soft moan against his lips. Already out of breath from focusing so hard on how he feels when he touches you. Your lips fall slack just to catch that lost breath, and he doesn’t argue, going right back to that spot on your neck to kiss as he picks up rhythm with his fingers. Effectively fucking you open with them as you cling to him.

You hate to say you didn’t pay much attention to his hands until now. Having not noticed how deep just those two digits reach inside of you, and good fucking lord does he know how to use them too. Curling them up at just the right moment to have your legs shaking. 

Never have your legs fucking shook for a man. This only happens with the g-spot stimulating toys. God, you open your eyes to look at the ceiling in thought, and it has you wondering if he even knows he’s doing it. 

“Keep doing that–” you urge him, and he hums at you finally at least trying to tell him what you want. 

He finally lifts from your neck to look at you, now placing his weight back on that one free arm that had been toying with the ends of your hair this entire time, and he’s fucking floored. Even if he pictured you before with those toys, none of those images came close to this. And it’s just his fingers? No where near the size of your toys, no where near as expensive, or warm…or alive.

Oh. You want to feel someone who wants you. 

“I’ll do anything you want.” He says, doing exactly as you asked except a little faster, still hitting that spot inside of you so perfectly that you’re moaning out now. 

He tunes in entirely to the sounds you’re making, the faces you’re making, and the way your pussy clenches around just those two fingers. He is aching at this point, pulling back from hovering over you to sit now between your legs, fingers still keeping pace, and sliding his other hand down his briefs. 

You don’t notice at first, too enthralled by the feeling of his curling fingers inside of you, but when you do–

“God,” You moan, rolling your eyes at the image of him out of breath, both hands working to pleasure both of you. “Come here.”

He listens, already pulling his hand away from himself but keeping his fingers in you, in a daze as he takes his original position of hovering over you.

“No, I mean, come here.” You say, looking at him as you reach between your bodies and pull his fingers out of you, then reach to grab between his legs. 

He immediately moans at the feeling, his hips pressing harshly into your grip with a whine as he takes a deep breath and closes his eyes just to feel it. 

“Pull it out.” You continue, slowly becoming more and more comfortable telling him what you want. 

Just watching him do what you ask is insanely hot. The way he pulls his cock out seems so natural to him, you suddenly imagine what he must look like all alone while getting himself off. Thankfully though, he’s not all alone right now, he’s with you, and you intend to be getting him off. 

You look at him, between his legs, and then back at him once more before grabbing it again and practically pulling his hips to you by the cock. He groans all the same at it though, and only holds his breath when he feels your legs spread further and essentially press his cock between your folds and hold it there from the head. 

“Grind.” You say, still holding your hand in place to keep the pressure against him, which also puts pressure against your clit when he does grind up.

You both shiver at it, and he still looks down at you, fucking smiling through his sighs of relief regarding the new sensations you’re offering. 

“You’re actually fucking perfect.” He compliments, fucking his hips up and coating his cock with the dripping of your needy cunt. 

Out of everything he’s ever said to you up to this point, out of everything he’s fucking done to you, that’s the one thing that has you spiralling into a world of fire. It makes you feel so warm, especially with the head of his cock bumping your clit. He has barely gotten any friction and he is still calling you perfect? Sign you the fuck up, forever, actually. 

“Don’t be stupid,” You start, waving him off between moans and gripping his shoulders.

He grinds up harder at your words though, now propping himself up on his elbows and grabbing your face on both sides. 

“You, don’t be stupid.” He says clearly, pointing his thrusts directly at your clit and moaning only slightly as he looks at you.

You swear, at that moment he could see your entire life. Everything about you. Everything you love and hate. The way he doesn’t look through you but at you? 

“You’re actually insane.” You laugh, crumbling to his pointed gaze and thrusts, your legs automatically shooting up to wrap around his waist. 

He seems proud of being called insane right now. Mostly because he can come up with at least fifty reasons as to why this is anything but insanity, but he remains quiet at the feeling of your legs squeezing around him. 

Such a girl was looking for mundane sex toys to have normal sex with? Lucky you, this is his fucking favorite. Plain ‘ol missionary? Check. Legs squeezing around him, almost pulling him in? Check. Looking directly at the face of the person he wants to make feel good? Check. 

You barely notice his lack of control by this point, the closeness alone feels like you’re already having sex but you realize you’re entirely empty still. This is fine though, until it’s not.

When does it not become fine? When his confident moans turn to soft sighs, and you notice his arms shaking a bit to hold his weight above you, and when his eyes go dead staring at you. You can tell he’s focused entirely on the feeling between the two of you, doing nothing more than aggressive yet…weak grinds? 

“Jay,” You say, slightly out of breath. 

“Hm?” He responds half-heartedly, releasing his weight from one elbow and dropping his head between your neck and shoulder.

“Fuck me.”

It’s like you can feel the switch in his head go from losing sanity to gaining it back in an instant at those words. He felt like he was pleasuring himself against you for so long, with so much friction between your hand and his abdomen constantly pressing into it. He could have gotten off from this, if you wanted him to anyway. It would have been an intense orgasm after working up for so long too, but now? 

He doesn’t even say anything, he doesn’t even move his head from between your neck and shoulder. Instead, you feel him expertly adjust his hips and press in without much trouble. He finds exactly where he belongs so fucking fast that is has you spinning and clenching immediately. 

“Shit,” He drones out with a long sigh, slowly sinking his cock into you. “You’re throbbing.” 

You chuckle, because yeah. You definitely are, but so is he. You can feel his thick length spreading you open inch by inch, until he’s fully planted into you and twitching. Then he doesn’t move again.

“This alone could do me in,” He chuckles against your neck, breathing in a deep sigh and attaching his teeth to your lower ear lobe. “Honestly, I can't believe I didn’t already cum  just from having my fingers in you.”

You’re both flattered and shocked by this comment, before you can even think to respond he’s talking again.

“You’re so tight, so wet.” He soothes himself through the feeling of your walls clenching around him by explaining how good your pussy feels, not yet wanting to move and just wanting to feel what your body does to him on its own. “It’s so hard not to move right now.”

“Please,” You manage to get out, struggling to focus on just one thing with the way he’s talking and the way he sits so perfectly inside of you. “Please, move.”

And he does, instantly. Pulling out and sliding back in so easily that the slapping sound is muted entirely by the matching moan you both release. You can feel his voice vibrating against your neck, and you can imagine he might be able to feel yours through your pulsing walls, because it feels like every sound, touch, and sensation is sent straight there for him to enjoy. 

It doesn’t stop either. Both of you shamelessly moaning at the feeling of him snapping his hips into you at perfect speed, with a perfect voice, and a perfect hand moving up to grip your chest. 

He’s practically blanketing you with his body, your legs holding him in this spot, his hair still finding a way to tickle your cheek with each thrust in. It’s so fucking much. It’s so good, and so…comfortable.

You’re comfortable. So comfortable you don’t even feel the need to rub your clit, you don’t want to chase the orgasm, you just want to feel him. And apparently, he’s still on the same page with you. 

When he lifts his head, kissing the bottom of your chin and then your lower lip, still the two of you are groaning at each deep thrust in, but he manages to talk through it, somehow.

“Don’t stop,” he says, despite you barely doing anything. “Keep doing that.” He continues as his thrusts pick up pace. 

Only now do you realize that you were doing something. Without noticing, your hands were nearly tearing his back apart. Not literally, but your nails may have dug in a few times. Normally, once you notice doing that, you would stop because normally men don’t want the trace of another woman on him. Jay though, he’s in love with the idea that you’ll leave a mark. 

Obsessed with the sting of it, really, loving the idea of going to his night-job tomorrow and staring at all of the toys that don’t offer you a back to hold onto like this. 

You do as he asks much like he does for you, gripping him so tightly that your nails have no choice but to leave half-moon shapes on his skin. Each thrust drags your fingers up, down, up down, and with each thrust it somehow feels deeper, harder, hotter.

When he releases your chest from his other hand and puts it back to your cheek, caressing much like he has each time he’s focused on kissing you, you think you’re a fucking goner. 

As expected, he kisses you at that moment and thrusts once, hard, before holding himself there.

“I’m really close,” He whispers apologetically between kisses, “tell me how to get you there with me.”

You smile when he kisses you again instead of letting you answer, but you fall into it much like he does and you opt to grab that hand on your cheek and guide it to your clit. 

Instantly, he’s rubbing harsh and sloppy circles around it, and you reward him for the perfect work of his fingers yet again with your fingernails digging into his back. He softly moans at that, and you swallow it up all too easily. 

Tensing your muscles, his fingers on your clit work you up so quickly that you barely warn him of your oncoming orgasm, even as his cock sits leaking and heavy inside of you. You don’t even know how to tell him, all you can do is frantically moan out shortly.

“I’m–” 

Instantly his hips are back at work, barely even thrusting but instead remaining buried into you for the most part. He pulls out an inch and slams back in, wanting your orgasm to get him off more than his own movements. And fuck, it does.

The way you clench when you reach your high, slack lips against his own, he releases at what he could argue is the best possible time. Your tenses muscles work him up perfectly, gently massaging his cock as he releases in full without too much overstimulation. 

And you. You have never gotten off with a man staying mostly still inside of you. Actually, you’ve only gotten off that way with toys because nothing beats getting off while completely full. Jay really is something, or, someone. 

The two of you release together, and his lips fall slack just like yours do. The kissing turned to that of desperate, orgasm-fogged moans into the other’s mouth. For some reason, it was incredibly hot to you that you both reacted that way. So insanely drunk on the other that nothing felt embarrassing.

Even the way his fingers moved on your clit through your orgasm, he somehow knew when to go and when to stop. 

Even now, as your orgasm tapers off, you are so blissfully aware that you want to immediately fall asleep even with him inside of you. Jay is polite though, and gently pulls out with a small apology of the mess. 

When he looks at you, looking so sleepy under him, maybe it translates to him too and he instantly yawns but tries to be strong for both of you.

“We should clean up.”

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

There wasn’t even a question in your head when he slept over that night. He didn’t even hint at leaving. Nor did he hint the morning after as you groggily opened your computer for your daily work. 

He did hint that he would miss you when he eventually had to go to his own house and get ready for an evening at the sex-shop. He also hinted a few times at feeling like, when he looked at you, you weren’t a brand new person in his life. Part of you wonders if that’s because maybe you want to be permanent in his life from now on.

Later that night, he came back. Bright eyes and a stinging back.

For some reason, you feel it’s safe to say that neither of you can stand being apart for too long. So yeah, maybe this is what a normal relationship is like. If, you know, you were in a relationship with him.

Ironically enough, only a few days later that relationship is established in the form of a new car battery and a bottle of lube that he bought for you. 

Not that you need it. (The lube.)

[mephisto-reporting]

Sorry, I Hurt You: Zayne Edition

Premise: You hurt him with your words and instantly regretted it, tearing up for the things you said, things you could not take back. But in that moment, all he sees is the love you have for him. Inspired by this request. Pairing:Reader x Zayne Note: Reader and the men are in a relationship for this fic. If you would react to this situation differently by saying you would not hurt him, you would not argue, then please know that this fic may not be for you. Life happens and different people react differently. A reader tag isnt a generalisation for this fic. Let me know if you want to be a part of my taglist. Content warning: Angst, arguments, hurt/comfort, tears.

Zayne Edition | Caleb Edition | Xavier Edition | Sylus Edition | Rafayel Edition

 Zayne had promised to meet you at 7 p.m., a rare evening carved out of his relentless schedule. But, as always, the world seemed to conspire against you.

At 6:34 p.m., your phone buzzed.

Zayne: Emergency surgery. I’ll be late. I am sorry.

The message was short and direct, like every other text you’d received when he was busy. Not that you minded, because you knew he would be indulgent when he had the time with his gifs and emoji.

You sighed, staring at the glowing screen. Of course, it wasn’t his fault—his job was important, lives depended on him. You knew that. You always knew that. But knowing didn’t make it hurt any less.

You: How late?

You waited, watching the little "typing…" bubble appear and disappear a few times before his reply came in.

Zayne: I’m not sure.

You: Ill wait for you, Dr. Zayne 😉

The knot in your chest tightened. You tossed your phone onto the coffee table and leaned back against the couch, staring at the clock on the wall. 7:00 p.m. came and went. By 8:30, the sun had dipped below the horizon, painting the room in shades of blue and gray. By 10:00, your patience was fraying.

Your thoughts spiraled. You couldn’t even remember the last time the two of you spent more than a few uninterrupted hours together. If it wasn’t the hospital, it was a conference, or research, or some far-flung medical camp in the middle of nowhere.  You understood—he wasn’t just a doctor, he was the doctor, the youngest cardiologist in Linkon City, and his work saved lives. But no amount of understanding could temper the weight of the empty hours that stretched between you tonight.  It wasn’t just tonight. This was a pattern, a cycle you’d grown used to but never quite accepted.

But waiting was a lonely affair. Life had been stressful for you, too. Work, finances, personal struggles—everything felt like it was crashing down. And now, the one person you longed to lean on, to feel close to, seemed so far away. Was it selfish to want his presence? To crave a moment of his time? You didn’t know anymore. All you knew was that you missed him. Missed you both.

By midnight, the frustration was a storm you couldn’t contain. You told yourself you’d wait but every tick of the analog clock that Zayne liked was like chalk grating against the blackboard. :00 a.m. The city outside your window was quiet, the only sound the faint hum of passing cars. 1:45 a.m. The words you wanted to say twisted in your chest, growing heavier. 2:23 a.m. The lock turned.

The sound of the lock turning startled you. Zayne stepped inside, his movements deliberate and quiet as he placed his bag down and shrugged off his coat.

“You’re awake…” he said softly, his sharp eyes flicking to you as you sat up on the couch.

“Yeah,” you replied, your voice flat. “I’ve been waiting. I wanted to see you. How was the surgery?”

“It went well,” he said simply. “Complicated, but the patient stabilized.”

“That’s good,” you said, your voice tight. “Have you eaten anything?”

He shook his head. “I grabbed something at the hospital earlier. I’m fine.”

Fine. He always said that. No matter how long the day, no matter how much he’d pushed himself, it was always, I’m fine.

“Zayne…” you began, your tone already edged with the frustration simmering beneath the surface. “You’ve been on your feet for hours. You need to take care of yourself too, you know.”

“I do,” he replied, his tone even, almost dismissive. “We can talk about it tomorrow. You should get some rest.”

And there it was—the spark that lit the fire.

“Rest?” You repeated the word, your voice incredulous. “You think I can just ‘rest’ after sitting here for hours waiting for you? Do you even realize what this feels like, Zayne? It’s like I don’t even exist in your life anymore!”

His brows furrowed at your outburst, a hint of confusion on his face.

“I know your job is important,” you continued, your voice shaking. “I know what you do saves lives, and I’ve tried so hard to be understanding. But do you have any idea what it’s like to feel like you’re always second? To feel like you’re not even a priority?”

“Wait.” he interjected, his tone calm but firm. “I didn’t say you weren’t a priority—”

“No, you didn’t say it,” you interrupted, your anger flaring hotter now. “But it feels that way, Zayne. Every time you miss a dinner, every time you come home at some ungodly hour, it feels like I’m just… here. Waiting. Always waiting. Do you even realize how long it’s been since we’ve had a real conversation? Since we’ve actually spent time together?”

His brows furrowed deeper. “You know my job doesn’t exactly allow for flexibility.”

“Your job,” you spat, the words laced with bitterness. “It’s always about your job. And I get it, okay? I do. You’re saving lives, and that’s incredible. But when was the last time you asked about mine?”

He opened his mouth to respond, but you didn’t give him the chance. The words poured out, sharp and unrelenting.

“Do you have any idea how lonely it’s been? I’m not even sure I’m a part of your life anymore!”

The moment the words left your mouth, you saw the shock flicker across his face. His usually stoic expression cracked, his eyes widening in disbelief.

Your heart thudded painfully as the weight of what you’d said sank in. “Zayne, I—” Your voice faltered, tears welling up. “I didn’t mean that. I swear I didn’t mean that.”

He didn’t say anything, just stood there, his silence somehow heavier than any words he could’ve spoken.

The room fell silent except for the quiet hitch of your breath. You pressed your palms to your eyes, trying to stem the tears, but they came anyway, hot and unstoppable.

Your chest tightened as the tears spilled over. “I’m sorry…” you choked out, the apology tumbling from your lips. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it. I just… I don’t know. Everything’s been so overwhelming, and I didn’t mean to take it out on you. I know how much your work means to you, I really do. I’m just… I’m tired, Zayne.”

ZAYNE’S POV

Her words hung in the air, each one slicing deeper than the last. I’m not even sure I’m a part of your life anymore.

Was that really how she felt? Had he really been so consumed by his work that he’d made her feel this way?

He swallowed hard, guilt tightening in his chest. Of course, she was right. He’d assumed her silence meant she understood, that she was okay with the late nights and missed dates. But now, looking at her, he realized just how deeply he’d been wrong.

And then came her tears.

He’d seen people cry before—patients, families, even his colleagues. But her tears were different. They weren’t just borne of hurt; they carried guilt, love, and something raw and unfiltered. She wasn’t angry at him. She was hurting for him, even as she blamed herself. “I’m not making excuses. I just... I’ve been trying to be strong for so long, trying to understand, but tonight... I just felt... alone. I didn’t mean it. I swear. You don’t deserve to hear that from me. I love you so much, and I feel terrible for even saying something so awful.”

The anger in her voice born from exhaustion, frustration, a sense of abandonment, had shocked him, yes. But now, as her words turned to apologies, all he could see was how deeply she cared for him. Through the raw tears, through the pain and self-accusation in her voice, all he could see was how much she loved him. It was clear as day, even when she couldn’t bring herself to look at him, even as she buried her face in her hands.

Her words tumbled out in a rush, desperate, as though she needed to undo everything with an apology. She wasn’t angry anymore, no. She was so sorry, and it hurt him more than anything else could. He felt his heart crack, the guilt swirling like a blizzard, and without thinking, he moved toward her, instinct pulling him into action.

“Don’t cry...” he murmured, stepping closer. His voice was softer now, tinged with something almost fragile.

“I’m sorry,” she choked out, her words tumbling over each other. “I didn’t mean it, Zayne. I swear, I didn’t mean it. I just—tonight was hard, and I—”

“Stop.” His hands came up to gently frame her face, his thumbs brushing away the tears that refused to stop. “You don’t have to apologize.” The way her shoulders shook with each sob, the desperation in her voice—it all spoke of someone who loved so fiercely that even the slightest hint of causing harm to the one she loved shattered her entirely.

“But I do,” she insisted, her voice cracking. “I was upset, but that doesn’t make it okay for me to say something like that to you. You didn’t deserve it. I’m so sorry, Zayne. I didn’t mean it. I swear, I didn’t mean it. I’m just… so tired, and everything feels so heavy. I know how much your work means to you. I know it’s important, but… but I said those things, and that’s not okay.”

Her voice cracked on the last word, and it cut through him like a scalpel. The rawness of her pain, the way her hands shook as she tried to wipe away her tears—it gutted him. He stepped closer and gently took her hands, stilling their movement. “Stop,” he murmured, his voice low and steady. “Please, stop apologizing.”

But she didn’t. She kept going, as if she needed him to hear every ounce of her sorrow, every misplaced thought born from exhaustion and frustration. “Just because I’m in a bad place doesn’t mean I can take it out on you. It doesn’t make it okay to hurt you. I’m so, so sorry—”

“Enough,” Zayne said, firmer this time, his hands tightening around hers. He closed the distance between them, his forehead resting against hers. His eyes searched hers, even as his own unshed tears blurred his vision. “I hear you. And I forgive you. You don’t need to say another word. You are important to me. Do you hear me? You always have been.”

He pulled her into his arms, and for a moment, the world outside disappeared. The tension in her body melted into his embrace as he cradled her close. He felt her sobs against his chest, the dampness of her tears seeping through his shirt, and his heart ached in a way that no medical textbook could ever describe. It was a mix of regret, love, and an overwhelming need to protect the person in his arms.

When he tilted her face up to his, his thumb brushing tenderly over her cheek to catch the fresh tears, his lips found hers in a kiss that spoke the words he couldn’t say. It wasn’t rushed or hurried, but deep and deliberate—a melding of emotions. He tasted the salt of her tears, felt the softness of her lips trembling against his. His hand cupped the back of her head, holding her there as if letting go might shatter everything. It wasn’t about passion, not this time. It was a deep, desperate need to remind her, remind himself, that she was still here. That no matter how far he had drifted, they were still together.

This is how much she loves me, Zayne thought, as her lips pressed harder against his, the urgency building. This is how much she needs me. Even when she’s hurting, even when she’s angry, she still reaches for me, still tries to make things right.

In that moment, everything was stripped bare. There were no walls, no facades. Just him and her. His kiss was a vow, an apology, and a promise all at once. When he finally pulled back, his lips still ghosting over hers, he murmured, “I’ve been a fool. I am sorry too. I should have been here, with you. I should have made time for you.”

Her eyes widened slightly, confusion flickering through the tears. “Zayne—”

“All these days, I thought I was going home after work,” he continued, his voice low and weighted with emotion. “But it wasn’t home. It was just a house. This… this is home. You’re my home.”

The words hung in the air between them, raw and unfiltered. He pressed another kiss to her forehead, his hands still framing her face. “I’m taking the weekend off. No conferences, no surgeries, no calls. Just us.”

A small, shaky laugh escaped her. “You mean it?”

“I do,” he said, his lips curving into the faintest of smiles. “Even if I have to tie myself to this couch to prove it.”

She chuckled softly, and he felt the tension in her body begin to ease.

“I miss you,” he said finally, his voice breaking the stillness. “I miss us. And I’m sorry I made you feel like you weren’t important. You are. You’re everything.” And that was the truth. All that mattered now was her. She was his home, his heart, his everything. And he would make sure she knew that every single day.

A soft sigh of relief escaped her, and she relaxed into him, the tension in her body finally easing. And Zayne, for the first time in a long while, allowed himself to rest. He closed his eyes, listening to her heartbeat against his chest, and he knew that no matter what else life brought him, this was all he needed. This was home.

And he was never going to let her feel unimportant again.

AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!

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