#FUCK YOU???? if something worked once why the hell should I do something harder with worse results?????

[steelthroat]

Self-taught artist? Went to art school? Why not both?????

Artist who went/is going to art school, but teachers ignored them/are never in class/just care about their favorites so they kind of had to learn things by themself and then go crawling like a worm to the professors and ask "like this?" And they grunt and nod instead of giving constructive criticism.

[pedrospatch]

fall into temptation | three

Jackson! Joel Miller x Preacher’s Daughter Reader

series masterlist

summary: Of all the women to catch Joel Miller’s attention—it just had to be one of the goddamned preacher’s daughters.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. SLIGHT PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION OF READER, mentions of her hair which she can put up into braids as well as her style of clothing. despite the nickname Joel gives her, it does not speak to her body type or size. AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and Joel is 56). several mentions of religion and religious symbols, reader has a father and two sisters, all who come with names, reader gets put into a a very uncomfortable situation, insecurity, anxiety, Seth is an asshole, protective Joel, he threatens to break someone’s jaw which is a warning in and of itself. SMUT. loss of virginity, reader is inexperienced but not totally clueless, oral (both m and f receiving), risky unprotected p in v sex (please wrap it up), lots of praise and pet names (baby, babygirl, honey, you know, the works), Joel gets a teensy bit rough, creampie, hint of aftercare, ends with a cliffhanger, but also not really if you think about it?

MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY, NO MENTION OF RACE OR BODY TYPE.

word count: 10k

a/n: it was not my intention to post this on jesus day, but here we are. this took forever and a day considering the second part was posted back in september, but i am so so proud of myself for finally completing a wip i could cry. i did a bulk of the editing while i’ve been sick and in all honesty i probably should have asked someone to beta for me because i think i coughed out like 90% of my brain cells this week, but i think it turned out okay. ish.

Somehow, even over the volume of the live music, you could still hear their hushed, astonished whispers.

“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?”

“Is that Joel Miller with Pastor John’s daughter?”

“What’s she doing holding his hand?”

“He’s got to be at least twice her fucking age—”

Throat bobbing anxiously, you glanced up at Joel.

His shoulders were squared back, his head held high. 

Solid. Steady.

Joel couldn’t seem to care less about the bewildered stares, the judgment that was being flung his way. Not once did he seem to waver. But you?

Oh, you were already starting to crumble underneath it all, on the verge of falling apart right before everyone’s prying eyes. Shame sat heavily inside of your chest, the weight of the feeling suffocating you, making it harder and harder to breathe as it prevented air from reaching your lungs.

It had nothing to do with Joel. Of course it didn’t. It had all to do with you and with who you were. Their beloved preacher’s sweet, innocent young daughter. 

His youngest daughter. 

Suddenly, the whispers were no longer whispers.

“Oh God, she’s not going home with him, is she?”

“That’s not right! Someone should say something!”

“Pastor John would never allow something like this.”

“Poor thing’s naive—she doesn’t know any better.”

Hot, stubborn tears of frustration glazed over your eyes and threatened to spill. It was as if you were a child who didn’t know any better, a gullible, clueless little girl with nothing in her brain who needed to be rescued—saved from the bad, bad man before he did bad, bad things to her.

Had it been anyone else, no one would have batted an eye. No one would have noticed, let alone cared. But it was you that Joel Miller was leaving the bar with in the middle of the night and it was you whose hand he had clasped in his own. That is what made it wrong. That is why it was a problem.

Everyone’s concerns had nothing to do with him at all, they had everything to do with you. You, you, you. You were the sole reason why it was a problem, the reason why he was being perceived as the Devil himself, horns out as he dragged the poor little unsuspecting angel down to the fires of Hell.

“Joel?” Overwhelmed, you instinctively reached for his arm with your free hand. Cold and trembling, your little fingers curled tightly around his bicep, digging into the firm, bulging muscle through the thick corduroy fabric of his sleeve. You whispered his name again. “Joel—”

“S’alright, babygirl,” he reassured you quietly over his shoulder. He gave your hand a comforting squeeze. “S’alright. Just keep your eyes on me, sweetheart. I’ve got you. You just keep on lookin’ right at me, okay?”

Nodding, you inhaled deeply and focused on him. Only him. The broadness of his back and his shoulders. Tufts of hair that curled over the collar of his shirt. Only him. He’s what mattered. He’s all that mattered.

“Almost there,” Joel murmured, squeezing your hand again as the door came into view. “Breathe, baby. We’re almost there. I’ve got you. You’re alright. Ain’t gonna let anythin’ bad happen to you. Promise I’ve got you.”

It wasn’t until his fingers wrapped around the old, brass handle that you finally exhaled the breath you had been holding out in utter relief, though it was very, very short lived. Just as Joel pulled the door open, you felt a hand wrap around your arm. Dry, slender fingers dug into the soft flesh above your elbow as an attempt, and a feeble one at that, was made to tear you out of Joel’s grasp.

The music stopped and the bar fell silent. Everything and everyone came to a sudden standstill, freezing mid dance, mid drink, mid bite, mid gossip.

Shocked, you glanced over your shoulder. “Seth?” you squeaked his name. “What—what are you doing?”

Seth didn’t acknowledge you. His focus was on Joel.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Miller?”

Joel’s anger couldn’t be seen, but it could be felt. So palpable you could have wrapped your fingers around it. It radiated off of him and loomed over the entire bar like an incoming storm cloud. Threatening. Dangerous.

“Where are you taking her?” Seth demanded, his other hand curling around your wrist as he tried, but failed, to snatch you from Joel’s side once more. “Let the girl go! You let her go right now, you hear?”

Caught in between the two men, you nervously turned to look at Joel. Nostrils flared, jaw clenched, seething eyes that did the talking for him. His message was loud and oh so abundantly clear.

If Seth didn't take his hands off you, he wasn’t going to have any hands.

Not after Joel Miller was through with him.

Blazing heat flooded your face. As if it couldn’t possibly get any worse, everyone had now gathered around you to watch the tense encounter, eyes wide, brows raised and jaws practically on the weathered, hardwood floor.

Tommy Miller stood among the crowd, subtly shaking his head, his lips pressed together in a tight, thin line of disapproval as he glowered at his older brother. Would he be looking at Joel like that had it been Esther in your place? If she was the one he was taking home? Would any of this be happening if it was her instead of you?

“Seth.” Uttering his name, you shifted your attention back to him. You sounded calm and collected, despite feeling anything but. Joel’s hand in yours was the only thing keeping you steady and grounded. His touch was the only reason you hadn’t yet spiraled into a state of panic. Clearing your throat lightly, you spoke again and tried your hardest not to waver. “Please let go of me.”

Still fixed on Joel, he spat, “I’ll be damned if I let him take you anywhere.”

“He’s not taking me anywhere, Seth.” Without thinking, the words came tumbling out of your mouth—loud and clear for everyone in that room to hear. “He isn’t forcing me to go with him. I’m making the choice to leave with him. Out of my own volition. Please let go of me.”

Finally, Seth looked at you. His old, worn features were twisted in disbelief. “What?”

You swallowed dryly. Part of you wanted you to shrink away, curl into yourself. Instead, you straightened your posture, forced yourself to stand a little bit taller. Willed yourself to have a backbone for once in your life.

“You heard me,” you said, lifting your chin in defiance. Several onlookers gasped in surprise at your rebellion. Where had this insolence come from? “I’m choosing to leave with Joel. Now, please let go of my arm.”

Behind you, Joel stood silent and still. 

Watching. Observing. Waiting.

He wanted nothing more than to intervene. Rip you out of Seth’s hands and shatter each and every last bone in all ten of his fingers for putting them on you. Had Joel not realized that this was probably the first time in your whole, entire life you’d mustered up the courage to use your voice, he would have easily given into the urge. He wanted to protect you. He needed so badly to protect you. Yet, he knew you weren’t helpless or incapable of standing on your own two feet. He knew you deserved the chance to stand up and speak for yourself after a lifetime of being silenced, a lifetime of being forced to stay in your place, seen but never heard.

“Seth, let go of my arm,” you repeated. It was no longer a polite request. It was a demand.

He scoffed. “Do you honestly think I’m going to let you leave with somebody like him? You think I’m just going to stand back and let him take advantage of you?”

Oh, you hadn’t liked that insinuation, not one bit. 

It caused something inside of you to finally give way.

Snap.

The blood in your veins boiled, ran hot enough to make you feel like you were about to burn from the inside out. “Joel isn’t taking advantage of me! It isn’t like that,” you seethed, furiously. The quiet, well mannered, obedient good girl everyone in Jackson knew was gone. And she could stay gone. In your periphery, you could see Leah elbowing her way through the sea of people to the front of the crowd with an incredulous look plastered on her face. She stood there beside Tommy, who appeared to be just as incredibly bewildered by your outburst. “Don’t treat me like I’m some child who doesn’t know any better! I’m an adult and I’m old enough to make my own choices, okay?”

For a moment, you had forgotten it was Seth standing there in front of you.

“I’m capable of making my own decisions! I don’t need you to dictate my life. I don’t need you to tell me what is and isn’t good for me—controlling what I should and shouldn’t believe in.” Your voice trembled as emotions you’d been suppressing for years bubbled their way up to the surface. Amidst the chaos, you could feel Joel squeeze your hand again, as if silently encouraging you not to lose your nerve. He was your anchor, the only person who could keep your world from capsizing. You knew he wouldn’t let you drown. Not even God, who you had always been forced to believe was your pillar of strength, had ever made you feel this protected. Safe. “I don’t need you to tell me how to live and much less when it’s the end of the world.”

It wasn’t Seth you were addressing.

It was your father.

Your father, who controlled every last thing, from what you would eat to the way that you dressed and how you wore your hair.

Your father, who refused to let you have a mind of your own, who simply could not bear the mere thought of you thinking for yourself.

Your father, whose love felt like shackles, heavy, rusted metal restraints that had been digging into the flesh of your wrists for far, far too long.

“You need to let me go now,” you said, swallowing back the lump in your throat. Once more, you caught Leah from the corner of your eye, your heart lurching in your chest when you noticed her desperately trying to wipe at her eyes with the back of her hand. She was the only person in the room who understood how you felt. Her rebelliousness only ever masked the pain of knowing her father’s love came with terms and conditions—and the fear of knowing what would happen if those terms and conditions weren’t met. For several weeks, you’d gotten a taste of what she went through everyday, how her fear of putting her foot down led her to run around in secret and live a double life. “Just let me go.”

Seth firmly shook his head. “No! I’m not letting you go anywhere with him. I don’t know what the hell he did to you, but he’s clearly got you all fucking brainwashed.”

That was fucking enough. Joel stepped in, lowering his voice as he said, “Y’know, I’ve just ‘bout lost count of how many fuckin’ times she’s asked you to let her go now and it’s really startin’ to piss me off.” Raising an eyebrow, he laid his offer out on the table. “Here’s the deal. You let go of her right now and I won’t shatter your fuckin’ jaw into pieces. That seem fair enough to you?”

“No.” Seth gripped your arm even harder, prompting you to let out a little yelp as his nails dug painfully into your skin. Though it’d been accidental and he hadn’t meant to hurt you, it didn’t matter. He’d just set off the ticking time bomb that was Joel Miller.

Furious, Joel snatched a fistful of his shirt with his free hand—the other still held yours. Gentle, despite being mere moments away from beating someone to within an inch of their life.

“Joel! Stop!” Tommy’s voice broke through the tension as he approached. His footsteps were slow—careful and cautious, as if he was afraid to make any kind of sudden movement. “Joel. Hey. C’mon now, let’s not do this, alright? Ain’t gotta handle things this way. We can talk it through. No need for anyone to wind up bleedin’ in the fuckin’ infirmary tonight, so just take a breath and let him go.”

Blatantly ignoring Tommy’s attempt to keep the peace, Joel tugged Seth forward, yanking him closer. “Listen to me and listen to me good ‘cause I ain’t gonna fuckin’ say it again. You’d best take your fuckin’ hands off her right now unless you wanna spend the rest of the night sweepin’ up your teeth off the floor of your own fuckin’ bar,” he threatened, his tone enough to send a chill up anyone’s spine, even your own.

“You wouldn’t dare, Miller.” Somehow, Seth managed to keep a straight face, but you could see it so clearly in his eyes and in the tremble of his lower lip—oh, he was terrified of Joel and rightly so. “Not in front of all these people. Not in front of your brother. That wouldn’t be a smart move considering you’re already on thin fucking ice for what you did to that boy’s face, now would it?”

Joel tugged him closer. “Test me,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “Go on. Fuckin’ test me.”

His challenge was immediately met with a pathetic look of defeat. Seth dropped your arm and he was released.

“S’what I fuckin’ thought.” Without another word to the man, Joel whirled around and roughly pulled the door open, leading the way outside. As you both descended the building’s old, creaking wooden steps, you began to shiver and he suddenly remembered he’d left his jacket behind inside the bar. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “C’mere, my little dove,” he murmured as he tucked you against his side for warmth. “I’ve got you.”

The first thing he did was light the fireplace.

“Should start warmin’ you up, sweet girl,” he’d said to you over his shoulder. He tossed a log into the blaze as you sat perched on his couch rubbing your bare arms with your hands. “M’gonna go upstairs and find you a blanket, alright? You stay put.”

“Okay,” you’d mumbled, knowing there was no point in telling him not to fuss over you.

Even with the soft, fleece throw blanket he had draped around your shoulders and the warmth of the flames in front of you, you continued trembling. Subtle, but he’d noticed it, felt it when he had sat down beside you and pulled you close against his side. “Oh baby, you’re still shakin’?” That was when he realized you weren’t cold. Frowning, Joel rose to his feet and disappeared down the hallway. He came back to the living room a minute later with a glass of water in his hand. With a small, labored grunt, he dropped to one knee in front of you and held it out. “Here.”

“No, thank you.” You shook your head. “I’m not thirsty.”

“Maybe not, but I’m kinda worried you could be in a bit of shock right now,” he stated, the creases in between his brows deepening as he observed you for any other physical signs of distress. Carefully, Joel lifted the glass to your lips, gently coaxing you to take a drink. “C’mon, darlin’. Think you can be a real good girl for me and at least take a couple sips? Hm?”

Sighing softly, you nodded and did as he asked of you, taking a small sip of water. It soothed your dry mouth and throat and you took another one. Maybe you were thirsty after all.

“Little more, now. Little more. That’s it. That’s my good girl.” Once he was satisfied with how much you’d had to drink, Joel set the half empty glass down on the oak coffee table behind him. He turned back to you, placing his large hands on either side of your thighs below the hem of your dress. He started tracing soft, soothing circles into your skin with his thumbs. “M’real proud of you for standin’ up for yourself back there, sweetheart. Took a whole lot of fuckin’ courage to do that, y’know.”

You glanced down at your hands in your lap. “Mhm.”

“Baby. Hey. Look at me.” One of his hands abandoned your leg and he reached up, delicately taking your chin between his thumb and index finger. He tilted your face upwards, his worried gaze meeting your own. “Talk to me. M’right here.”

“That—that was a lot,” you admitted meekly, shoulders sagging as the adrenaline started wearing off and your body slowly came down from the peak hormone rush. “It was a lot.”

Sighing, Joel’s hand fell away from your face. “Yeah, I know it was a lot, babygirl. I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“No.” You were quick to cut him off. “Don’t be sorry.”

His chest heaved with another sigh, this one deeper, heavier, bearing the weight of his guilt. “Well I am,” he said. He planted his hands on either side of you on the couch and lightly shook his head. “Didn’t even fuckin’ think twice when I pulled you outta that fuckin’ supply closet and took your hand in front of all those people. I was so fuckin’ hellbent on showin’ everybody you were mine that I didn’t even stop and think ‘bout what all it would mean for you. It was selfish of me. Real fuckin’ selfish. And I’m sorry, little dove.”

“Do you regret it?” you asked, quietly.

Joel chuckled in spite of himself. “M’pretty sure I’m the one who should be askin’ you that question, darlin’,” he remarked. “Tell me. Do you regret it? Do you regret me pullin’ you outta that closet?” He momentarily paused. There was a stutter in his heartbeat when you dropped your gaze away from his, silence your only reply. “Do you regret me takin’ your hand in front of everyone?”

Of course not.

You wanted to be his and you wanted everyone to know it. There was no regret, none. 

Still. 

The consequences that you would undoubtedly have to face in the morning were overwhelming. Daunting.

Surely, by then, your father would know about you and Joel. When he came downstairs right after sunrise and he discovered you weren’t in the kitchen helping Lydia prepare breakfast, he would question where you were and make some kind of remark about how you should not be sleeping in this late. He would tell her just how irresponsible it was for you to ignore your duties and obligations to him and the family. Sloth was one of the seven deadly sins, after all. He would make her trek upstairs and wake you, and when she did, your sister would find your bed empty.

Meanwhile, there would be a knock at the front door.

No stranger to having members of the congregation show up on his doorstep when they were in need, be it of prayer or comfort, your father would answer it only to find someone, not in need of solace, but who felt that it was their responsibility and moral obligation to inform him that they had seen his youngest daughter leaving The Tipsy Bison with Joel Miller in the middle of the night, hand in hand.

He wouldn’t believe them.

“Now, that is simply not true,” he would say, offended that anybody would have the nerve to show up at his door and accuse you of something so vile. “That’s not possible. I know my daughter and she would never do such a thing. It must have been someone else that you saw with him. Someone who looked like her, perhaps.”

Then, Lydia would descend the staircase and tell him you weren’t in your bedroom. “She must have gone up to the main street as soon as she woke up,” she would suggest with a shrug, not yet privy to the events that had taken place the night before at the party you and Leah had snuck off to. She never had to worry about you, the good one. “I did notice we were running pretty low on eggs. Sugar, too. She probably wanted to be the first in line at the pantry to—Papa? What’s the matter?”

The color would drain from your father’s face when the realization slowly sank in. No, you weren’t out on the main street picking up eggs for breakfast and sugar for his tea. You were lying up in Joel Miller’s bed—defiled, impure, and with the curse of Eve on your flesh. Even after dedicating his entire life to making sure you did not stray from the path of righteousness, he had failed. You had fallen into temptation. 

There was a chance he would have mercy on you. All you had to do was beg and plead for his forgiveness—and more importantly, for the forgiveness of God. “Vow to atone for your sins,” your father would say, his gaze fixed on the Holy Bible in his lap. He probably wouldn’t be able to look at you, not after what you had done. “Repent. And swear to me, child, that you will never so much as glance in that man’s direction ever again.”

No. That’s not what you wanted.

You wanted Joel and the freedom to be with him. 

But that freedom came with a high, high price.

You were willing to pay it, but you’d be lying if you said you were prepared to navigate the consequences. Then again, was there really any way for someone to prepare themselves to be shunned by their own father?

“I can take you home,” Joel offered quietly, the sound of his voice taking you out of the future and bringing you back into the present.

“What?”

“I can take you home,” he repeated himself. “I can take you home right now if that’s what you want, sweet girl. Won’t give you any kinda grief ‘bout it.”

Confused, all you could do was stare at him.

“Listen to me, baby. You mean a lot to me. More than I can even begin to explain,” Joel reassured you before any kind of doubt could find its way into your mind. “I want you to stay with me. There’s nothin’ on what’s left of this fuckin’ earth I want more than for you to stay here with me. But what you want matters to me a hell of a lot more than what I want.” He reached up, lightly stroking your cheek with his thumb. “If you decide you wanna go home and go back to your family—back to your old man—then that’s where I’ll take you. Okay?”

Your father would give you an ultimatum. But Joel? He was giving you a choice. And he’d respect that choice.

“I wanna free you from your cage, my little dove. But I think we both know you’ve gotta make the choice to fly outta there on your own.” He lightly swept his thumb over your quivering bottom lip, his eyes meeting yours as he whispered, “Door’s wide open for you. What you do next is all up to you.”

“I’m afraid, Joel,” you confessed. A tear slipped from the corner of your eye and rolled its way down the side of your face. He was quick to wipe it away, along with the others that followed. “I do want out of my cage. I really, really do. But I’m terrified. All I have ever known is my family and my faith. I have never been apart from my father and my sisters.”

His expression softened. “I know you’re scared. Can’t promise you things will be easy, but there is one thing I can promise you.”

“What’s that?” you questioned, then waited with baited breath.

He gingerly cupped your cheek in his large palm. “I’ve got you,” he swore to you, just like he had done so back at the bar. “If you decide to stay, I promise I’ll take real, real good care of you, alright? For the rest of my life, I’ll take care of you. You won’t ever have to worry ‘bout a thing with me by your side. Swear it on my life.”

Warmth blossomed in your heartspace and finally, you stopped trembling. Lifting a hand, you curled your fingers around his wrist as your gaze fell to his mouth. “Joel?”

“What is it, darlin’ girl?”

“Kiss me. Please.”

With a gentle nod, Joel’s other hand found your hip, the warmth of it seeping through the cotton fabric of your dress. Leaning in, he brushed his lips against yours. It was a chaste thing, soft and innocent until you grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him closer to you. “Babygirl,” he mumbled against your lips. He deepened the kiss, sweeping his tongue through your parted lips and into your mouth. He tasted like bold bourbon and citrus beer. There was a faint hint of tobacco too—you recalled him admitting to you one night in the church house that while he wasn’t all that much of a smoker, at least not like he used to be when living in the zones, he would occasionally partake in the habit if he happened to come across a pack of cigarettes while out on patrol, pairing the nicotine with a drink. He tasted delicious. He tasted delicious because he tasted like yours.

You sank back into the worn, supple brown leather of his couch, tugging him forward so he sank in with you. Over you. Releasing your near death grip on his collar, you managed to wedge your hands in between your bodies and began to claw furiously at the buttons of his shirt, your fingers shaking out of pure desperation to feel him. It wasn’t until you were halfway down that he finally noticed what you were doing and leaned back, catching both of your wrists.

“Baby, wait,” he panted, shaking his head. “Don’t think now’s a good time for that—”

“Joel, please,” you pleaded, the intense ache between your thighs almost too much for you to bear. “Please. I want it. I want you.”

“S’been a rough night for you.” Joel’s voice was hoarse—strained, like he was aching just as much, if not more. “You’re real emotional right now. Vulnerable. Last thing I want is to take advantage of you at a time like this.”

You frowned. Had Seth’s words gotten into his head?

“You’re not taking advantage of me.”

“Darlin’ I just don’t think we should—”

“Joel, please,” you begged him again. “I was so good for you, was I not? Wasn’t I patient, just like you asked me to be?”

His lips thinned into a tight line. He wouldn’t be able to resist much longer. You, his beautiful little temptress of Eden.

“I waited for so long,” you reminded him. “I’ve been so, so good for you. Please, just make me yours already. I don’t want to think about anything else right now. I just want to be with you. Please, Joel. I need you so badly it hurts.”

Christ.

No man could stand it. No man could possibly have the strength to deny you.

With a look of utter defeat, he folded. Before he could say another word or make another move, your greedy mouth was on his, and you kissed him with fervor, with urgency, as you finished the task of unbuttoning his shirt. Pushing it off of his shoulders, the corduroy fabric fell into a crumpled heap behind him, nearly knocking the glass of water off the coffee table. You broke away from him and shamelessly marveled at his mouth watering form—you admired the way miles of smooth, tanned skin stretched over his wide shoulders, broad chest and soft, soft belly. Arousal pooled between your legs and you reached out and raked your fingers down his chest, and over his stomach, going lower and lower, following the trail of coarse, dark hair that led you to his brown leather belt. You clumsily started fumbling with the brass buckle until he caught your hands once more.

“Slow down, my little dove,” he murmured. “No need to rush this. We’ve got all night.” He stood up and held his hand out to you. Time blurred a bit—maybe it was your nervousness mingled with the eager anticipation of what was to come, but there seemed to be a small gap in your memory, a blank space that spanned from the moment you rose off the couch until the moment you found yourself standing in his bedroom where you were about to answer to the call of the flesh.

Dropping your hand, Joel switched on the lamp on his bedside table and kicked off his boots before taking you into his arms. “C’mere, honey.” He nuzzled your cheek with the tip of his nose as he spoke, the scruff of his beard tickling your cheek. “Couple’a rules, sweet girl. I do somethin’ that you don’t like, you tell me. You want me to stop, you tell me to sto—”

Without waiting for him to finish his sentence, you slowly lowered yourself down onto the floor and knelt at his feet with purpose, as if kneeling before an altar, a sacred, holy space. Though you felt anxious, you were eager to worship. “I haven’t forgotten about what I said earlier tonight,” you cooed, noticing the mild look of surprise on his face. “I said I’d make it up to you and I intend on keeping my word.”

All the blood in his body rushed south to his cock and it strained painfully against the crotch of his jeans. “Baby, I—” Again, he was cut off, only this time by the sound of his own groan when your hand brushed up the front of his thigh and over his growing bulge. He glanced down, his heart thrumming painfully hard against his sternum as he watched you reach for his belt buckle.

With all your might, you willed your hands so as not to tremble. It was self-explanatory, what you were about to do, but your total lack of experience sowed seeds of doubt into your mind—you wanted to make him feel good, just like he had made you feel good outside of the church house during services. Just how you knew he would make you feel tonight.

Hand still over his buckle, you pressed the tenderest of kisses to his bulge through his jeans. Then, turning your head, you rested your cheek on one of his thick, blue denim clad thighs and peered up at him through your eyelashes with a small, nervous smile as you confessed what he already knew. “I’ve never done this before.”

Oh, how sweet and endearing you were. Joel reached down and smoothed your hair back and away from your face, tucking it behind your ear. “S’alright, honey,” he crooned, grazing the silkiness of your cheek with his index finger. “I’ll walk you through it. Teach you how to be a real good girl and suck my cock just the way I like it. That what you want, my little dove?”

His filth made your cunt clench hard around nothing.

Slowly lifting your head off of his thigh, you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and managed a clear, consenting nod as your hands fumbled with his buckle, the clinking sound of metal ringing loudly in your ears. You undid the button on his jeans and pulled down his zipper, your throat drying when you saw the outline of him, his size intimidating even behind the cotton fabric of his faded, black boxer briefs.

With a harsh swallow, you glanced up at him, silently asking him for his permission to continue.

Such a polite little thing, Joel thought to himself. “Go on, sweetheart,” he encouraged.

You tugged his jeans down to the middle of his thighs and hooked your index fingers underneath the elastic waistband of his boxer briefs, pulling them down and freeing his cock. There was a deep, swooping sensation in your belly as you watched it slap up against the lower part of his abdomen. After many nights of sitting in his lap, feeling him through his clothes, grinding your cunt down onto him, you thought you’d at the very least had an idea of what you would be in for, but oh, how wrong you had been. He was so much bigger than you could have imagined, and your stomach swooped again when you realized he was not going to fit. Anywhere.

Licking away the dryness of your lips, you take him in one of your hands, feeling the heaviness of his length in your palm. He was so long and so, so thick.

“Oh fuck,” Joel hissed the curse through gritted teeth, his hips jerking forward involuntarily as your touch sent a charged jolt of electricity shooting up the length of his spine. He looked down at you, his pupils blown wide with arousal. Christ. You hadn’t even done anything to him yet, but seeing you sitting so prettily at his feet was almost enough to make him come on the spot.

Delicately wrapping your hand around him, you found yourself almost in awe at the way your fingertips barely, just barely, touched. The sheer size of his cock dwarfed your hand, and made it seem so much smaller than it really was.

“You’re so big,” you murmured, echoing your thoughts. You licked at your lips again, suddenly feeling ravenous, an appetite that had seemingly come out of nowhere making you salivate. The tip of him was flushed red, slit already glistening—how badly you wanted, needed a taste. Never, ever, did you think you would be down on your knees for anything but prayer, but there you were, starved and desperate to bite into the forbidden fruit.

“What’re you waitin’ for, darlin’ girl?” he croaked.

“Permission,” you replied, sweetly.

“Go right ahead, baby. S’all yours—I’m all yours.”

Yours.

Yours, yours, yours.

Finding your first push of courage, you leaned forward and so carefully swept your tongue along the tip of his length, collecting the slight saltiness leaking from the slit and getting your first delectable taste. With your hand still wrapped firmly around his base, you looked up, your eyes locked on Joel’s face as you flicked your tongue up against the rigid underside of his cock.

“Fuckin’ Christ,” Joel groaned, all of the muscles in his stomach already pulling taut when he felt you dragging your tongue in a slow, purposeful lick along the length of him. “Babygirl.”

“Is that good?” you asked him, sounding hopeful. “Am I doing good?”

“Doin’ so, so fuckin’ good for me, sweetheart. Look so fuckin’ pretty down on your knees for me.”

Pleased, you wrapped your mouth around the head of his length, pressing forward and taking him in as far as you possibly could—which, in all fairness, wasn’t very far. At least not as far as you would have liked. Another groan tore itself from the depths of his chest as your plush, plump lips sealed around him, your tongue warm and wet on the underside of his cock. Moving both of your hands to rest on the sides of his thighs, you began to move your head back and forth, following what felt most natural to you. The nerves you initially felt slowly but surely dissipated, vanishing one by one with every curse, every tremble, every sharp breath.

Joel resisted the urge to buck his hips forward, fought the desire to feel himself at the back of your throat. He needed to be gentle, so careful with such an innocent, pliant thing who had much, much to learn. “Sweet little fuckin’ mouth feels so good around my cock, baby, just like I fuckin’ knew it would. Y’think it can take more of me, little dove? Hm?”

You hummed, the vibration intensifying his pleasure.

“Yeah? Y’trust me?”

Your reply came in the form of a muffled, “Mhm.”

Joel reached down and cradled the back of your head in the palm of his hand. He carefully guided you further onto his throbbing length, slowly feeding you one inch at a time. Your fingers dug into the denim of his jeans. He was much more than a mouthful for you, and you could only take about half of him before he hit the back of your throat, prompting you to gag around him. Drool dribbled out from the corners of your mouth and down the sides your chin, dripping onto your lap.

“Oh fuck, sweetheart. Yeah, that’s it. Little more now, honey,” Joel encouraged. He bucked his hips forward, his head slipping further down your throat. Just when you felt like you were about to choke, he pulled out and you tried your hardest not to cough and sputter as you took in a much needed, precious breath of air. He gave you a few seconds or so to finish catching your breath as he shoved his jeans and boxer briefs further down his legs. He stepped out of the articles of clothing and kicked them somewhere off to the aside, standing before you completely bare. “Open up.”

Your absolute devotion to him bred sweet submission, so as worried as you were that you wouldn’t be able to handle it, you nodded obediently and very willingly did as you were told. 

He guided himself right back into your waiting mouth, pressing deeply. You tried to relax your jaw, reminding yourself to breathe in and out through your nose. Tears streamed down the sides of your face as you did your best to forestall another gag. “Little bit more,” he said, thrusting his hips in a slow, steady controlled rhythm. He advanced even further into your mouth—trusting he wouldn’t suffocate you, nor push you too far past your limits, you opened up wider. He moaned, “Yeah, baby. That’s my good girl. That’s my good fuckin’ girl.”

With a bit of newfound confidence, you hollowed your cheeks and sucked him. You swiped your tongue along the thick, prominent vein on the underside of his cock, earning yourself more of his sweet, sweet praise.

“Fuck, yeah, suck me off, sweetheart. This pretty little mouth was fuckin’ made for sin,” he breathed, guiding your head back and forth with a firm, but gentle hand.

You moaned, the noise muffled around his length. Slick soaked through your panties and coated the insides of your thighs. With another moan, you tightly squeezed your legs together, inwardly reminding yourself that patience was a virtue.

Noticing the way you had shifted, Joel moved his hand from the back of your head, lightly curling his fingers around your jaw. He pulled you off of his cock, a loud, lewd popping sound bouncing off the sage green walls of his bedroom. “C’mere, baby.” He grabbed your arms, effortlessly hoisting you up to your feet.

“What’s wrong?” you questioned him worriedly. “Did I do something wrong?”

Chuckling softly, he brushed a finger along the strap of your dress. You could do no wrong, his perfect, perfect girl. “Of course not, sweet girl. You did so fuckin’ good for me,” Joel reassured you, lightly tracing along your collarbone with his finger and making your flesh erupt in goosebumps. He leaned forward and feathered a kiss onto your lips, murmuring against them, “Are you wet, little dove?”

Before you could even process the query and generate some kind of coherent response, he dove his opposite hand between your thighs, cupping your warm heat in his palm. At this, your weak knees buckled, prompting you to reach out and grab onto his arms to hold steady and keep yourself from falling into a helpless heap on the floor.

“Oh, honey. You’re soaked. That what sucking my cock does to you?” he cooed. He peppered another kiss, this one onto the corner of your mouth. His voice lowered another octave. “Poor little thing. She needs me, don’t she? Needs me to take care of her?”

You whimpered. “Yes.”

“Manners, babygirl,” he reminded you, skimming your cheek with his nose. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, please.”

Humming in approval, Joel withdrew his hand from in between your legs and guided you backwards towards his bed. “Sit,” he commanded gently, bidding you to let go of him. “Arms up.”

Reaching for the hem of your dress, he took great care in pulling it over your head, then discarded the vibrant yellow material over his shoulder, leaving you in nothing but your cowboy boots and thin, cotton white panties. Without a word, he knelt before you and pulled off one boot, and then the other, setting them both aside. He hooked two fingers underneath the elastic waistband of your underwear, coaxing you to lift your bottom off of the bed, just long enough for him to pull them down and slide them down your legs. He was so tender in the manner in which he undressed you.

“Fuckin’ beautiful, beautiful girl,” Joel praised. His dark gaze dragged down the length of your body as you sat before him wearing nothing but the delicate, gold chain around your neck. The holy cross nestled between your supple breasts gleamed in the light of the lamp on the nightstand. He would leave it on until your decision was made, set in stone. “My pretty little dove.”

“Joel.” You whimpered his name, hands curling around fistfuls of his dark blue sheets. You were drenched now, in dire need of some relief. If he didn’t touch you where you needed him most, you would surely lose your mind.

Desperate, you leaned back slightly onto his bed and parted your knees, your folds glistening as you showed him just how badly you needed him.

Joel groaned, almost visibly salivating at the sight. The blazing heat in his eyes sent ripples of desire coursing through your body, straight to your throbbing core.

You opened wider. “Please.”

“Christ, babygirl. Already soakin’ the sheets.” Sliding a finger up along the seam of your pussy, he grazed your clit, the touch light, but somehow still enough to make your hips arch off the mattress as white-hot pinpricks of pleasure danced their way up your spine. He lowered his head and leaned in, your sweet scent drawing him in like a moth to a flame. Just when you were about to start pleading him for more, he dipped his face into the apex of your thighs, his mouth finally, finally, meeting your wet heat.

“Oh!” you gasped, your head falling back. “Fuck!”

Against you, his lips curled upwards into a wicked grin. He’d never heard you curse before, not until now.

Joel took his time devouring you, savoring the essence of your cunt with each broad stroke of his tongue. Sealing his lips around your clit, he flicked the swollen, sensitive bundle of nerves over and over again, eliciting from you some of the sweetest noises that he had ever heard in his entire life. In preparation for what you both knew was to come, he pushed one finger inside of you, the invasion causing you to fist his sheets even harder. He then slipped in a second finger, groaning in sheer, carnal bliss at how your walls squeezed them, at the mere thought of them squeezing his cock in the same manner. How was it that you felt so much tighter this time around?

“Oh God.”

You shouldn’t be saying His name. Not like this.

Not when something this sinful was being done to you.

Hungrily, Joel lapped at you, curling both of his fingers in an upwards motion to hit the perfect spot. He knew you were close, felt it in the way that you squirmed and writhed. Draping his arm across your hips, he pinned them down onto the bed, holding you still as he chased your high as if it were his own.

“Joel,” you chanted his name over and over again in a fevered prayer. Releasing the sheets, your hands found his hair, tangling themselves in his curls. Your head fell back, and you cursed at the ceiling of his bedroom. “Fuck, fuck, fuck Joel—”

Pushing onto his mouth, you came, moaning his name so loudly you were certain the whole neighborhood was getting an earful.

Joel pulled back, his beard and mustache slicked with your spend. “S’right, honey,” he crooned, his digits still buried to the knuckle as he helped you to ride out your wave of ecstasy. Eventually, when he pulled them out, you tried closing your shaking legs. He tsked and shook his head, wrenching them open further. “No, no, baby. Keep those pretty thighs open for me. Wanna see her.” He admired his work, his cock twitching at the sight of your pussy, swollen and shining, and ready to take him.

Like earlier, there was another brief skip in time.

Mind still in a haze, you hadn’t even realized that he’d risen to his feet and guided you further up onto his bed, not until you were lying on your back with your head on his pillow and he was hovering over you, his hard length brushing against one of your messy, inner thighs when he settled himself between your legs. 

Your heart began to pound in a mingle of both fear and excitement.

Joel’s eyes met yours. His pupils were blown so wide, there was not one, single trace of brown anywhere to be seen. “Y’absolutely sure about this, little dove?”

Your response came without hesitation. “Yes. I’m sure.”

He pressed a kiss to the underside of your jaw. Your submission was a gift, and he would cherish every last second of your surrender to him, savor it for as long as he possibly could. His lips, soft and warm, skimmed along the column of your throat, leaving a trail of fresh goosebumps in their wake.

If, by some chance, you decided that you wanted to go back to your father and to your faith, Joel didn’t know how he would find it in himself to let you go, not after this. Of course, he would have to let go, though.

The last thing he wanted was to help free you from one cage just to stick you right back into another. While he was no stranger to loss, he had to admit to himself that to lose you would be a knife to whatever was left of his heart.

Shoving the thought out of his mind, he reached down and gripped the base of his cock, pumping it in his fist before running the leaking head along your puffy lips, coating himself in your wetness with the hope it would ease some of the pain you were bound to feel. “Ready, babygirl?” he asked you, lightly teasing your entrance. “Might hurt a bit. M’gonna go slow. Just need you to relax for me, alright?”

“Okay.”

“I’ve got you,” he promised.

You nodded, saying softly, “I know.”

Though he knew he had all of your trust, Joel could still sense your anxiousness. He reached out for your hand, lacing your fingers together with his own as he gingerly pressed forward and eased himself into you, taking the very innocence you had been taught your entire life to preserve, one slow, careful inch at a time.

“Oh—Joel!” You cried loudly at the initial stretch, your pretty face scrunching in discomfort. Tightly slamming your eyes shut, sparks flew behind your eyelids when he finally bottomed out. The burning sting in between your thighs was too overwhelming, almost impossible to cope with. He felt so enormous within you, you could have sworn he was in your belly. Another broken cry fell from your lips and he swallowed it with a comforting kiss.

“Jesus Christ,” he hissed against your lips, a thin sheen of sweat coating his brow, neck, and chest. He wasn’t sure where he found the strength, but he suppressed his urge to thrust. Instead, he dropped his face into the hollow of your neck and waited, giving you the chance to adjust to him. He mumbled against your skin. “Doin’ so good for me, sweet girl. Y’know that? You’re doin’ so fuckin’ good for me.”

Even in discomfort, you preened at his praise.

He squeezed your hand, and after a minute, he gave an experimental thrust of his hips—and then another and another before he ceased his movement once again. He was so big and you were so deliciously full of him.

Eventually, the pain subsided, and you found yourself asking, no, begging for more. “Move.” Your other hand found itself cupping the side of his face, coaxing him to lift his head and allowing your gazes to meet. Your soft, plush thighs parted further to help accommodate the breadth of his hips. “Please, Joel. I need you to move—I need you to fuck me.”

Surely, you would be the death of him.

He drew his hips back with cautious, tender care, then advanced in the same manner to fill your precious cunt all over again. He did it over and over, your pleasured moans encouraging him to begin picking up the pace. He drove his cock in and out of your weeping pussy, the slapping of flesh against flesh, the lewd, wet squelch of you around him inspiring him to fuck you harder, faster. And the noises you were making?

There was something oh so beautiful about your cries, sweet raptures of submission as you laid there beneath him, all too graciously taking everything he had to give you like the good, good, good girl you were for him.

“Fuckin’ hell, sweetheart,” Joel rasped. “Look at you—look at the way you take my fuckin’ cock, honey.”

And you did.

Glancing down, your gaze fell between your bodies and you watched in awe, openly marveled at the way Joel slid in and out of your cunt, how he knocked hard so deeply inside of you, driving himself as far as he could possibly go.

“Fuck Joel, I’m gonna—” You tried warning him as the pressure in your belly neared its peak, but you tumbled over the edge before you even had the chance to finish your sentence. Arching up off off the bed, you pressed your chest against his, your fingers squeezing his own so hard you feared you might break them.

“That’s it babygirl, let go,” he grunted, speeding up his thrusts. “Squeeze my fuckin’ cock—just like that. Good girl. My perfect, perfect girl.”

You didn’t quite get the chance to let the praise sink in.

Joel pulled himself out of you, and with ease, he flipped you over onto your belly. His hands gripped your hips and pulled them up off the mattress, his fingers moving to firmly knead the fleshiest part of your ass. He leaned over you, the head of his cock nudging at your hole. “Y’think you can handle a little bit more, sweetheart?” he whispered the question into a tumble of messy hair, the delicate scent of the lavender shampoo you used to wash it filling his senses. “Answer me, little dove.”

“Yes,” you replied breathlessly with a nod. “I can.”

With a satisfied hum, Joel sank into you, this second stretch not quite as overwhelming at the first, but still intense. “Relax,” he murmured, hunching further over your quivering back. He pressed a kiss onto the top of your head and then leaned down to brace his hands on either side of you. “Need you to be sweet for me just a bit longer, okay, baby?”

“God,” you whimpered when the heaviness of his balls came to rest on your sensitive clit.

It was the second time you’d uttered His name.

Joel almost grinned at the irony. He found his rhythm, groaning in gut-deep satisfaction with each snap of his hips—each smooth stroke in and each smooth stroke out.

“Oh fuck, sweet girl.” Heaven was indeed a real place, and Joel Miller was buried in it to the hilt, right at this very moment.

He was getting closer and closer.

Maybe it was your eagerness to help him reach his own release mingled with the pride you knew you would feel once you did that gave you a second wind, a fresh, new burst of energy. You planted your hands firmly on his pillow. Rolling your bottom lip between your teeth, you curved your spine and pushed back onto Joel with purpose, meeting his thrusts halfway as you rode his aching length to the satiation that waited for him at the end.

“There’s my girl,” he rasped. “Oh fuckin’ Christ—”

No way he could live his life without you now.

He needed you.

He needed you so much more than you needed him.

Joel slipped an arm around your shoulders, across your chest.

“Oh!” you gasped as he then yanked you back, pulling you flush against him. The rough crash of your back against his chest, combined with the angle in which he was fucking you knocked the wind out of your lungs.

His lips were at the shell of your ear. “Stay,” he panted, his breath hot against your cheekbone. He wrapped his other hand lightly around your throat. Relentless, were his hips now—his movements had become frantic. Desperate. “Stay with me, baby.”

Even as you fought to catch your breath in the position he had you in, you picked up on the fact that he wasn’t asking you of it, nor was he demanding you of it.

He was begging you.

Him, the most feared man in this town. Begging you?

“Joel,” you choked.

“Please, my little dove,” he pleaded, turning your head towards him. His mouth was then on the corner of your own, his beard roughly scratching the soft and delicate flesh of your cheek. “I need you, babygirl. Stay with me. Please, just fuckin’ stay with me.”

Your hands curled around his wrists. “Yes, I’ll stay,” you moaned. “I’m yours, Joel. I’m all yours. I—I’m not going anywhere. I promise. I’ll stay with you.”

A low, guttural sound rumbled through his chest. Joel firmly took hold of your cross, and without so much as a warning, he ripped the chain from around your neck and tossed it somewhere over his shoulder. He heard it land on the hardwood floor with the tiniest, faint clink the moment he spilled into you, ropes of warm release coating your fluttering walls. Curses and groans spilled from his lips and into your neck. Your cunt clutched at his pulsing cock, greedy for every last drop of his spend she could get.  

Once you were filled, you both collapsed beside each other on the bed, heaving to catch a steady breath.

“Y’okay, sweetheart?” Joel managed to ask, his chest still rising and falling rapidly.

Exhausted, all you could do was nod and utter, “Mhm.”

He exhaled an amused huff through his nose. “C’mere.” He reached for you and pulled you against his side. He draped an arm around your shoulders, holding you as close to him as was possible. “Y’did so good, honey.”

Your mouth curled into a small, contented smile.

Several minutes had passed by, and despite telling him that you were too tired to even think about moving, Joel made you get up and use the bathroom, and while you did so, he ran a clean washcloth under warm water. “Here, darlin’. Let me clean you up,” he’d said, his lips meeting your forehead in a loving token of affection before he sank down onto one knee and ran the damp cloth along the insides of your thighs. He took extreme care when he wiped at your swollen folds, knowing you were still sensitive to the touch. “There we go. All done, now.”

Not long after, you were both back in his bed, wrapped up in his sheets.

Yawning, you nuzzled into bare his chest, your eyelids feeling heavier and heavier with each and every second that ticked by. You’d started drifting off when you heard his voice.

“Baby?”

“Hmm?” you answered sleepily, eyes still closed.

“Did you mean what you said?”

“Mean what, Joel?”

There was a brief pause. “Y’know, when you said you’d stay with me.”

Snuggling closer to him, you mumbled, “Mhm. Of course I did.”

“S’not gonna be easy,” Joel murmured into your hair.

“I know.” You yawned. “But I have you.”

“You do. You’ve got me—and I’ve got you, babygirl.”

“Mm. I know that too, Joel.”

You felt him kiss the top of your head and then fell fast asleep in his arms.

The sun bloomed over the Grand Tetons.

Your father would wake soon, that’s to say if he wasn’t up already.

The nerves began to set in.

Joel must have sensed it. “Breathe, baby. S’gonna be okay,” he soothed, squeezing your hand.

With one of his warmer, heavier jackets that normally didn’t see the light of day until winter season draped around your shoulders, the two of you made your way down the road and towards your house. Or better said, towards your father’s house. Because after what you were about to do, that yellow and white cottage would no longer be a place you could call home.

He led you up to the porch. “Y’sure you don’t want me to go in there with you?” he asked, quietly.

You could have laughed. You almost did.

“Do you believe that to be a wise choice?”

“No, I reckon it ain’t the best idea,” Joel admitted with a sigh, raking his free hand through his unkempt, salt and pepper hair. He looked up at the house, then back at you. “Look, little dove. No matter what happens in there, just know that everythin’ will be alright. M’gonna take care of you. For the rest of my life, I’ll take care of you. I’ll try my hardest to be everythin’ you need.”

“You already are, Joel,” you said, your gaze earnest.

His chest swelled with warmth.

Truth be told, Joel didn’t know how he had managed to defy the odds—how he, of all people, had managed to make his way into that sweet, innocent, beautiful little heart of yours, but somehow he did, and he would not take this responsibility lightly.

He brushed your lips with his and promised, “Gonna be waitin’ right here, okay?”

“Okay.” Inhaling deeply, you willed yourself to let go of his hand and took a step back. You then started up the porch steps on wobbling legs. When you made it to the top, you glanced over your shoulder at Joel, who gave you a subtle nod of encouragement. Exhaling slowly, you reached for the knob with trembling fingers and turned it, opening the door. You stepped inside, your heart dropping into your stomach when you saw your father sitting there at the foot of the staircase, as if he’d been waiting for you. He had been waiting for you. Fully dressed, he sat on the second to last step with both hands folded on his bible in his lap, a rosary clutched between them. “Papa?”

He said nothing. Instead, he silently observed you—his eyes glazed over the men’s jacket and the short dress you wore underneath it, the disheveled, loose hair and kiss swollen lips. Your holy cross nowhere to be seen.

“Papa.” You swallowed harshly and shifted your weight anxiously from the heel of one boot to the other. “We, um—we really need to have a talk.”

He peered around you, catching a brief glimpse of the man standing outside, waiting for you at the foot of the porch.

He cleared his throat, lightly. “Yes, child. I suppose that we do.”

Nodding tightly, you turned around and slowly closed the door. Joel’s words rang in your mind over and over, giving you the push of strength you knew you would need.

I’ve got you.

divider credit goes to @saradika 🤍

[lycandrophile]

it's silly but the biggest reason why im not into t yet is bc im so afraid of losing my hair. do you have any solutions/tips for it?

first of all, i don’t think it’s silly — it’s natural to be worried when hair loss is talked about by so many people as like…one of the worst results of aging for men. listening to my dad talk about how much he hates balding definitely did not make me feel particularly good about the knowledge that i may very well be joining him someday. i’m not saying the fear is right, because i don’t think hair loss is something awful that we should avoid at all costs, but it’s an understandable fear given the beauty standards we’re working with, and it’s one that a lot of us (myself included) feel.

one thing that’s helped me is just…paying more attention to the guys that i interact with on a daily basis. i’ve learned two things from it: 1) hair loss is super fucking common. i’d say it’s much harder to find an adult man who isn’t balding at all than it is to find one who’s completely bald. and 2) if you forget everything you’ve been told about how bad hair loss is, you’ll realize that quite frankly, every single one of those guys looks totally fucking fine. it doesn’t ruin their appearance and make them ugly, it looks totally natural and isn’t really even something you’d notice if you weren’t looking for it. we put so much weight on it but it’s really just not that big of a deal. i’ll hear my parents talk shit about men in my family who are losing their hair when i didn’t even notice a difference last time i saw them. it’s one of those things (like so many other appearance-related things) that you really only notice at all because you’ve been taught that you’re supposed to care about it.

this isn’t something i’ve done personally, but if you really want to desensitize yourself to the idea of it, embrace the time-honored queer tradition of just shaving your whole damn head! find out what you’d look like without hair, find out how you feel about it and what you can do that makes you feel good about your appearance without hair, test the waters while it’s still a temporary change and not something permanent. that way, it won’t feel like this big scary unknown, and you’ll actually have a frame of reference for your feelings about how you look without hair rather than accepting the societal assumption that you’ll inevitably hate it. if you don’t want to actually shave your head, you could also just fuck around with bald filters or photoshop and see what happens.

oh, and if you’re attracted to men, keep an eye out for guys who are bald or balding and also hot as fuck. in my experience, there’s no insecurity or potential future insecurity that being gay for other men hasn’t helped me with. just off the top of my head, i can think of a couple actors who i think are absolutely fucking gorgeous who have helped me get over my fears about losing my hair. despite what our anti-aging-obsessed world might want you to think, there is no such thing as a physical feature that automatically makes someone less attractive, and while making attractiveness less of a priority in your life is good, it can’t hurt to also give yourself some proof that actually, you might lose your hair and look hot as hell doing it.

basically, entertain the possibility that it won’t be a bad thing at all! whether that’s just because it turns out to be a neutral thing for you or because you end up actually liking it, it’s not an inherently bad thing. i’ve ended up liking a lot of things that were “supposed to” be bad effects of t — i love the weight i’ve gained and the new shape it gives my body, i get a lot of gender euphoria from the fact that my acne is now on parts of my face that i saw a lot of guys in high school get it and i’m not complaining about the scars i get from it either because i’ve always liked the added texture that acne scars give my skin, and so on. i think there’s a lot of joy to be had in the changes we’re taught to fear, once we look past that conditioning and actually explore how we feel about it.

but if it’s something you really don’t want and you just want to improve your chances of not having to deal with it, it’s not like there’s nothing you can do! products like finasteride (oral) and minoxidil (usually topical but i think there might also be oral versions) are pretty commonly used among trans guys, for the purpose of avoiding hair loss and for other reasons, and there are plenty of other anti-hair loss products out there (though i don’t know how effective any one of them might be). if it’s a big enough deal for you, you can just decide that you’ll go off of t if/when you start noticing signs of it, since no longer having higher t levels would stop the process in its tracks. and if you don’t find prevention options that work for you so it ends up happening, you can always explore different hair styles (judging by the pattern of hair loss i see in my family, i suspect that keeping my hair long would make it less obvious if i started losing mine), find your preferred method of covering it when you don’t feel good about it (personally i love a good beanie generally and would probably wear them a lot more if i didn’t have hair to worry about because my main complaint is the way they press my hair onto my neck), or just shave it all off if you don’t like the look of the partial balding but don’t mind a shaved head. the point being — you have options!

at the end of the day, whether you go on t or not, you’re going to see your body change as you age in ways that aren’t always going to be attractive to others or aesthetically pleasing to you. that’s just the reality of having a body. even if you never went on t, you’d get older and you might see your hair thin out even if you don’t bald, you’ll see your skin start to wrinkle and sag in places that used to be smooth, your metabolism might slow or your body fat might start to gather in new places; hell, you might lose your hair for a totally different reason and end up in the same place but without the benefits of having been on t that whole time. life is full of bodily changes like that. transphobes will fearmonger about the permanent changes of testosterone all day long but the truth is, there is no escaping permanent bodily changes. whether or not you go on t, your body now isn’t the same as it will be in 1 or 5 or 10 or 20 or 50 years, just like it isn’t the same as it was at any point in your life before now. our bodies are never supposed to stop growing and aging and changing throughout our lives. there’s no guaranteeing that we’ll love every single change our bodies go through, but that’s okay! there are so many things in life that are more important than the way our bodies look. even if you go on t and lose your hair and don’t like how it looks, your life won’t be ruined; plenty of other things will bring you joy and more than make up for the insecurities.

just think about the gender euphoria and relief from dysphoria that t could give you. would losing your hair be bad enough to outweigh all of that? or is it just the pressure of a society that decided balding is bad that’s making you fear one single change despite how much joy you could have if you let that fear go? only you can decide if going on t is worth the potential downsides for you, but i suspect that for most of us, the benefits of going on t far outweigh the possibility of side effects like hair loss happening down the line.

[steddieas-shegoes]

i wanna make your heartbeat run like roller coasters

for @subeddieweek day one with the prompts manhandling and accidental subspace

rated e | 3,520 words | please check ao3 for tags

⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕

Eddie gets pushed against a lot of lockers.

It’s rarely accidental.

It’s always painful.

He doesn’t exactly have a lot of meat on his bones. Every hit leaves a bruise.

So when Steve fucking Harrington does his own dirty work for once, even though he graduated the way Eddie was supposed to, it’s just a bit embarrassing that it doesn’t hurt. It feels…kinda like he should be on his knees.

Which is really not something he wanted to think about when Steve’s got a hand on his shoulder, gripping hard enough to bruise, and something like fear in his eyes. Why is he scared?

“Did you sell weed to Robin?” he asked, teeth clenched.

Jesus fucking Christ. Steve’s got himself a band nerd girlfriend. How the hell did that happen?

“No, I sold to her friend. She waited by the treeline talking to herself the entire time.”

Eddie could hear his own voice shaking, but he wouldn’t back down. Black eyes were kinda metal weren’t they?

“Which friend?”

“Dude, I don’t even know. Someone else in band.”

The hand on his shoulder tightened and he barely bit back a whimper.

Steve’s eyes were very pretty this close. They were pretty from far away, too. Honestly, having Steve this close was probably rewiring something already broken in his brain. Having Steve’s hand on him like this was making his brain do somersaults trying to stay focused.

And then his hand was gone.

Eddie breathed in, breathed out.

“Sorry. I-” Steve shook his hands out and backed away. “Sorry.”

Eddie ignored whatever the fuck was happening in his stomach. It shouldn’t be happening so it isn’t, simple as that.

“Maybe you should ask your girlfriend if you’re so worried about her buying drugs.” Eddie should learn to shut his mouth at some point. “I only sell to the people who come to me first.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. I remember.” Steve wiped his hand down his face. “Sorry again.”

Eddie looked him up and down, taking in the fact that he was genuinely apologizing. No one ever apologized for knocking him around, not even when it was on accident.

“You good?” He eventually asked.

“Yeah. Just, she’s been through a lot. I didn’t really want her to get pressured into buying something,” Steve sighed. “Has she come out of the band room yet? I’m supposed to bring her to work.”

“Uh, yeah man, everyone left an hour ago.”

Eddie watched Steve’s face fall as he checked his watch and must’ve realized the time.

“Shit. Okay. I must’ve lost track of time.”

Steve looked pitiful. Eddie’s seen dogs in alleys who looked less beaten down and neglected than Steve currently did.

“I can help you find her?” Eddie offered for some unknown reason.

Well, he knew the reason, but he was choosing to ignore it.

“She’s probably already at work. It’s my day off so I ended up getting distracted with something and didn’t realize it was so late,” Steve admitted, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck. “Thanks, though.”

Wayne liked to tell Eddie he was too nice to undeserving people. Lord knows he gave his dad too many chances and got let down every time. He even tried to be friends with Tommy Hagan in middle school because he could sense something was going on with Tommy’s dad much like his own.

But Eddie liked to remind Wayne that Eddie is often considered undeserving and he took him in and gave him multiple chances regardless.

“You wanna smoke?” Eddie asked, despite knowing he barely has anything left after the long week of midterms for students. His busiest times of year were right before school breaks, midterms, finals, and graduation weekend. He usually stocked up, but with Rick being in prison again, he had to try to stretch what he had out.

“Uh…smoke what?”

“Weed.” Then it hit Eddie that maybe Steve was into harder stuff. But he hadn’t ever even bought from him in high school. Tommy had, Carol had, almost everyone at his parties had, but Steve never did. “I have regular old cigs too if you prefer.”

“Yeah, man, cool,” Steve sighed with relief.

“I got a spot behind the cafeteria if you wanna…”

“Sure, yep, let’s go,” Steve nodded, gesturing towards the double doors that led outside to the cafeteria and auditorium buildings.

As they walked, Eddie’s mind raced with thoughts of being alone with Steve, Steve’s arm brushing against his, Steve pushing him against the wall of the cafeteria, of Eddie dropping to his knees and unbuttoning Steve’s pants and-

“I’m really sorry about what happened back there.”

Steve’s voice shook him from his thoughts, but his dick didn’t quite get the memo. When did he even start getting hard?

“No worries, dude.” His face scrunched in disgust at calling Steve dude. What was next, the bro pat on the back? A fist bump? “Kinda jealous of how protective you are of your girlfriend.”

Okay, actually, what the fuck? Eddie needed to shut his fucking face, right the fuck now.

“She’s not my girlfriend, but uh, I don’t think you’re really her type either,” Steve gave him a look, one Eddie knew well and one he couldn’t quite believe he was seeing on Steve’s face right now.

“Right, right.” Eddie wouldn’t make him say it, especially if it was actually the look he thought it was, but maybe he could offer a little something in return. “Yeah, she’s not really my type either.”

Steve stopped just before they reached the hidden area behind the dumpster and picnic table for staff to smoke.

“Really?” Steve’s eyes were wide. “So you’re more into…someone like…me?”

Eddie was actually leaking into his goddamn boxers. Why was he getting turned on just talking to Steve?

“That would be one way of saying it,” Eddie said. Still easy enough to back out of it, at least. Could just say he likes women who wear polos and use more hairspray than Melvald’s has ever carried at any given time.

“Huh,” Steve continued walking to the picnic table, sitting on top of it and kicking some dirt off the bench by his legs for Eddie to sit. “So those rumors were true?”

“That depends on if I’m gonna make it back home to my very loving uncle if I say yes.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Obviously, I’m not gonna judge you about it when my best friend is-” He cut himself off and Eddie had to give him major credit. The Steve he used to know never would’ve cared if he outed someone, or at least never would have realized that was wrong. He coughed and then looked down at the bench. “You gonna sit?”

Eddie sat down on the bench, extremely close to Steve’s legs. Almost touching. Was that heat coming from his body or was Eddie just extremely warm?

“Did you actually wanna smoke or did you just wanna get out of the hall?” Steve asked after another minute of awkward silence.

“We can smoke.” Eddie reached into his pocket, hating how tight his jeans were in the front, and grabbed his lighter. His pack of cigarettes were usually stored in his van because he rarely smoked them, but luckily he’d brought them with him all week to sneak smokes between classes. He pulled one out and handed it to Steve.

He started to light his own when Steve leaned down, his face right next to Eddie’s, breath hot on his neck.

“You aren’t gonna light it for me?”

Eddie whimpered.

He would deny it a million times over if anyone asked. He almost had himself believing he imagined it.

But Steve laughed and backed away, pulling out his own lighter and giving Eddie a second to catch his breath.

What the fuck was that? Did Steve know he was making Eddie’s brain flatline?

He watched Steve take a long drag out of the corner of his eye, his mind shuffling between ‘what if he fucked me right here?’ and ‘get the hell away before your dick pops a hole in your jeans.’

Steve’s lips were so pink, and looked so soft, and just wet enough from licking his lips before taking the next drag, and Eddie was really going through it right now.

He’d gone through his Steve Harrington phase just like everyone else, thought it was over when he graduated. Had avoided the mall all summer when he heard he was working at Scoops so he didn’t have to see him in those tiny blue shorts. Had even gone so far as to avoid being around when the kids were being picked up from Hellfire because Dustin mentioned Steve was his ride.

Out of sight, out of mind.

Except for Eddie’s imagination was impressive, and his late night thoughts turned into very vivid scenes of Steve working him to the edge and making him beg, or pushing him against a locker and making him take his cock with barely any prep, or-

“Dude, anyone ever tell you you’re kinda space-y?” Steve’s voice once again lifted him from his thoughts, though he felt a bit hazy.

“Think I’m comin’ down with something,” Eddie squeaked out. All he was coming down with was a sickness deep in his chest: Harrington Heart-itis.

“Did you hit your head?” Steve sounded concerned now, setting his cigarette in the ashtray left on the table and moving so he had one leg on either side of Eddie. His fingers landed in Eddie’s hair, pulling his head closer and inspecting it for injury. “I didn’t think anything but your shoulders hit, but maybe-”

“No,” Eddie gulped. He should pull away. “Didn’t hit my head.”

Steve’s fingers tightened, not quite painfully, but enough of a bite to it that Eddie whimpered. Again.

Steve’s grip loosened, but his fingers stayed buried in his curls, and Eddie felt pressure guiding him to rest against Steve’s thigh.

“You eat today?” Steve asked, though his voice sounded kinda far away, like he was above the surface of the water and Eddie was sitting at the bottom of a pool looking up at the sun. “Eddie?”

“Hm?” Eddie blinked up at Steve. “I ate.”

“When?” Steve’s hand was cupping his cheek. “Lunch?”

“Mmm, no,” Eddie shook his head, blinked. “Breakfast? Cereal.”

Steve cursed under his breath.

He was so pretty. Had he been told how pretty he was? Surely when Nancy was with him, she told him.

Even if Robin liked women, she had to at least notice how pretty he was, right?

Steve’s sharp intake of breath somewhat centered Eddie.

“I’m gonna drive you home, okay?” Steve whispered, leaning down so his face was only inches away.

Eddie could kiss him. It would be the easiest thing in the world to lift his head the final two inches to make their lips meet.

“Eddie, eyes open,” Steve’s fingers tightened again, gaining Eddie’s full attention. “Should I call someone? Are you dynamic or something?”

Eddie’s brows furrowed. What did that even mean?

“Like the sugar thing?” Steve continued.

“Diabetic?” Eddie still felt a little hazy, but he was starting to come back to it with Steve’s hand migrating from his hair to his shoulder. “No, my sugar’s fine.”

“I’ve got some soda in my car. I can drive you home and then bring you to school in the morning. You probably shouldn’t drive like…this.”

It all came crashing down when Eddie realized how vulnerable he’d just been, how he’d actually lost track of time, not sure exactly how long he’d been sitting between Steve’s legs with his hands in his hair before he started coming back to earth. He stood up, maybe a bit too quickly, rocking a bit before finding his balance.

“Woah, take it easy.” Steve held his hands out, grasped his biceps to hold him steady. “You were pretty far out of it. Don’t rush it.”

How fucking embarrassing.

Eddie had only gone down that far one time with someone and they got freaked out when he was giggling and couldn’t walk on his own because his legs felt like jelly. But that had been on purpose. This was- Steve didn’t– Jesus Christ.

“I’m fine now.” Eddie was not fine. He knew what would happen if he left right now. Aftercare was a major part of this whether Steve was prepared for it or not. “Just, um, walk me to my van.”

Steve looked like a kicked puppy, but Eddie didn’t have the time to explain all of this to him.

Steve Harrington didn’t know how much of a freak Eddie was even if he did know he was gay. There’s no way Steve participated in any type of BDSM with the many girls he slept with in high school.

There was absolutely no fuckin’ way Nancy Wheeler let herself get tied to a bed and get fucked by Steve.

He shook his head at the thought.

“I’d feel a lot better if you let me drive you. I promise we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” Steve sighed. “I just don’t know if you should drive when you went down so hard.”

“You have no idea what even happened,” Eddie argued, pacing back and forth. “I can drive. I just need to walk it off.”

“You don’t walk off subspace.”

Eddie froze. Steve was standing right in front of him now, concern in his big, stupid, adorable eyes.

“How do you even know about subspace?” Eddie whispered.

“I slept with half the high school and two guys in Indy. I know what subspace is, Eds.”

Eddie must still be in space. Or maybe another galaxy.

“Sorry, did you just say you slept with two guys in Indy?” Has Steve seriously fucked more guys than Eddie has? Eddie, the resident gay man of Hawkins, has only been with one man in his entire life and Steve has apparently slept with two?

“Well, I wasn’t gonna sleep with two men in Hawkins!” Steve threw his hands up before putting them on his hips. “I hit up a gay bar and didn’t realize it doubled as a BDSM club until I was already in it and then a nice guy showed me the ropes. Literally. There were ropes involved.”

Eddie snorted. Steve was pretty and funny. Great. Just what he needed.

“I have a quick recovery, so I’ll be fine to drive home,” Eddie tried, though even he could hear his voice still shaking.

“No one is that quick,” Steve wrapped an arm around his shoulders, tugging him into a hug. “Has that ever happened before?”

“Not like that.”

“We should probably talk about it.”

The last thing Eddie wanted to do was talk about how someone playing with his hair and moving his head around while showing the bare minimum of care was enough to send him into subspace, but he had a feeling Steve wasn’t gonna give up easily.

“Fine. What should we talk about? How no one ever touches me gently so the moment someone did, I slipped? How I’ve been avoiding seeing you anywhere in public because I knew it would make my crush come back full force? Oh, I know!” Eddie laughed hysterically as he pulled away. “Let’s talk about how I still think about you in your stupid basketball shorts when I’m fucking myself on four fingers, which is never enough because I can never reach the spot I need to. Or how I once cut out your yearbook photo to keep for jerking off material because my mags weren’t enough. Could even talk about how earlier I wanted you to put your leg between mine so I could rub off on you. Or maybe the weather if you’d prefer that.”

Eddie was panting, could feel the heat on his face rising as he realized everything he’d just said, admitted, to Steve.

He’d never said any of that out loud. Shit, he’d barely said most of it in his own head.

Steve’s arms were pulling him in and Eddie let himself have it, let himself feel small for just a moment. If Steve wasn’t completely disgusted by what he said, then he would at least accept this offering of kindness for now.

They stayed like that for a while, long enough that Eddie started to wonder if he could just live here, right in Steve’s arms.

“It’s looking a little cloudy,” Steve said quietly, hands still rubbing Eddie’s back slowly.

“What?” Eddie still felt a little out of it, but that was entirely out of left field.

“You said we could talk about the weather.”

Eddie snorted. “Oh my God, you’re so-” Eddie looked up at Steve, who was smiling down at him. He felt off-kilter, being the object of that particular Steve look. “Stupid.”

It was fond, probably too fond for someone who needed to protect himself from whatever the hell was happening. He needed to shut this down.

“It’s been mentioned,” Steve’s eyes flickered down to Eddie’s lips, then back up to his eyes. “You good to head out?”

Eddie started to nod, but stopped.

This was his only chance. He wasn’t dumb enough to think he’d ever be alone with Steve again. If he was gonna kick start a spiral over feelings, he might as well go all out.

He stood at his full height, almost eye level with Steve, and leaned in.

The kiss was not even close to perfect. In fact, as far as kisses go, it was probably in the bottom three for Steve. Eddie chose not to think about how he screwed it all up.

But once the initial shock wore off, and Eddie put his teeth away, Steve’s hand cupped Eddie’s cheek and he licked past his lips.

Leave it to Steve to turn this around, make it something worth the risk.

Their lips moved in sync, both of them deepening the kiss without making it too wet, too filthy for a public space.

It was, dare he say, romantic.

Most kisses Eddie had managed to have were dirty and rough, hidden away in dark bars and alleyways, not exactly prime teen romance.

Of course Steve was good at this, of course he made Eddie melt against him, and of course Eddie was going to start writing hearts around Steve’s name in his notebook as if they were high school sweethearts.

When they pulled apart, it took him a minute to open his eyes. How stereotypical.

Steve was already looking at him, softer than he probably deserved.

“You’re pretty good at that,” Eddie breathed out.

“It’s been mentioned.” Steve’s lips turned up in a smirk before he pulled away completely. “Let’s go.”

They walked back through the school, stopping at Eddie’s locker to grab one of his textbooks as if he actually would use it. By now, he didn’t really need the textbooks to get his work done. And he was actually committed to getting it done this time around.

They were quiet as they continued out to the parking lot, only a few cars belonging to teachers left, maybe a few students stuck here for football or basketball practice. Steve’s car was towards the back, but Eddie’s was almost all the way in the grass field by the main road. It was less risky leaving it further away, less likely that anyone would slash the tires or key the side.

“You’re sure you can drive?” Steve asked as they stood outside his car.

“Yeah. Only five minutes to the trailer. It’ll be fine.” Eddie shrugged like it was nothing, but he was actually a little worried the kiss set him too off balance to focus on the road. Fuck the subspace, Steve’s lips were like discovering a new galaxy.

“Can I call you later? To check on you?” Steve seemed hesitant to ask.

“Uh, yeah? Do you…have my number?”

Steve shook his head, opening the door to his car and reaching into the glovebox to find a pen and an old receipt. As Eddie wrote down the number to the trailer, he thought about how much worse this would be tomorrow, how shitty it would be to have had this absolutely out of this world experience with the one person he never thought he could and then be left with scraps for the rest of his life.

“You uh, you don’t have to call, man. Don’t feel pressured. My uncle will be home so it’s not like I’ll be alone.”

Steve took the paper and pen back, folding the paper and putting it in his pocket and throwing the pen back into the car.

“I’m gonna call.” Steve moved a piece of Eddie’s hair from in front of his face. “You got a phone in your room?”

“No, but the one we have reaches to the bathroom?” Why the hell did he need one in his room?

“Good. Need you to be alone.”

“Steve, what the hell does that mean?”

“How else am I supposed to tell you what I wanna do to you?”

Well, fuck.

Day two: ao3 | tumblr

[audliminal]

It's Just a Game, Right? Pt 6

Masterpost

"I'm telling you, Fenton!" Wes announces. "I'm onto you." A few of the kids walking past snicker at them, as Danny does his best to look confused. The startled part is easy; Wes is turning out to be a surprisingly good actor. He's been gradually leaning even harder to the image of a conspiracy nut, and the result is impressive. Danny, on the other hand, is simply trying to keep up with the insanity.

"I have literally no clue what you're talking about, dude." Danny says, attempting to push past Wes, so he can enter their classroom. Wes doesn't seem inclined to let this confrontation end, though.

"You may have everybody else fooled, but I know the truth. You made a pact with the so-called ghosts and their efforts to take over our world. You're just manipulating your parents' tech in order to convince everyone that they actually are ghosts, and not the invading fae army they really are!"

"Dude, what?" Danny responds, not quite able to hold back the laugh.

"Honestly, Wes, don't you have any common sense?" Star asks, as she walks up. "Rumor has it that Fenton's failing like half his classes, and you think a bunch of fae lords, or whatever would trust him to help their scheme? Surely they'd choose someone more competent." She flips her hair, and then walks past the both of them, as a couple of the kids nearest to them start snickering.

Outwardly, Danny winces and hunches in on himself a little more, as he takes the opening Star just created and ducks into the classroom after her.

In hallway outside, Danny catches Wes muttering to himself before following them in. No one says anything for a minute, but the moment the bell rings and Mr Lancer shuts the door, Star turns to Wes.

"I think you should be a writer or something after we get out of here." Star tells him. "That theory was honestly inspired."

"It gets even better. I have so much evidence to force on you guys, it'll be great." Wes answers, then turns to Danny. "You good? I know we don't mean any of it, but it's still gotta suck to have us acting like assholes all the time."

"I mean," Danny hums. "I'm not gonna say it's fun? But like honestly compared to everything else, dissing my work kinda seems..."

"Banal?" Sam offers.

"Yeah, sure, that." Danny nods. "Like, compared to people wanting me dead, who cares, I guess."

"Yikes," Kwan mutters. "Your life is a fucking mess, dude."

"Well, i do have some good news about that." Tucker announces, turning his computer to face everyone else. "Looks like the fanbase is making some progress towards finding the real stuff.

Danny stares at the reddit thread Tucker is on. He's honestly been only loosely paying attention to the actual stuff Tucker and Wes have been posting. He's happy to offer his knowledge of space stuff, or engineering, but the intricacies of secret code aren't really something he ever pursued. Well, except for the secret language he and Tucker had made as kids. Wes, on the other hand, peers at the screen and lets out a soft whoop.

"Hell yeah! They found the second layer!"

"Yeah. Which means they've found our first plea for help."

"Oh, wow," Sam says sardonically. "A plea for help that's so great. Why are they gonna think it's anything other than another part of the damn story."

"Chill out, Sam," Tucker responds. "The point is to encourage them to look harder. And once they find the next level, they'll start finding our info on the infinite realms."

"Whatever," Sam says, frowning. "I just... Don't like how much waiting this involves."

"Yeah it would be a lot easier if we could just, like, beat them up and call it good," Dash agrees. "But, like, jail would probably suck."

"At least they're making progress," Danny points out. "I don't really get how you guys are making these layers, but. It's more progress than anything else we've tried."

"Yeah, but like, what does this mean for us?"

"Why not interact directly with that post?"

"Maybe. We'd have to be extra careful about what and how we say it, so they don't write us off as a copycat or anything, but it could serve to reinforce, uh-" Wes leans in, to read the username. "BenBlues379's theory."

"Okay then, let's draft a reply." Danny zones out as they start to discuss the specifics. He hadn't actually had to go deal with any ghosts last night, but his parents had been working on some new invention, and the noise of their trials had made sure he didn't get much sleep despite the supposed reprieve. Luckily, nobody in this class is going to complain if he takes the opportunity to catch up on the missed shut-eye now, so with one last deep breath, Danny folds himself down onto his and relaxes into sleep, as the sounds of his classmates debating echoes around him.

[d6volution]

imagine jax eaves dropping over you, his one and only fuck buddy and ragatha, something about you confessing to RAGATHA ?? spoiler alert she was helping you to practice your confession to jax !! he doesn't know about that part since he left silently fuming, now here he is waiting at your room. long story short jealous sex turns fluffy :)

yes yes a thousand times yes.

---------

tags: oral sex, rough oral sex, jealousy, misunderstandings, confessions, smut, and fluff.

minors dni.

more below the cut.

You and Jax had established a .. friends with benefits type of relationship as of late. The next best thing to keep your brain stimulated was well... sex. And boy did it work, Jax knew how to push your buttons, among other things. But... as time passed, your feelings began to change into something much stronger. Lust was becoming .. love? You felt so silly thinking it ... so how the hell were you supposed to say it?

Unfortunately, it wasn't easy to read Jax, so you couldn't even tell if he felt the same way. There was a fifty percent chance he'd deny you. And that was all too high. You'd need help on this endeavor, and you knew just the doll to ask.

A short while later, you arrived at Ragathas door. Lucky enough to have Kinger become a distract for Jax to sneak away. Once she swung the door open, the words erupted from your mouth. "Woah, woah y/n slow down ! Wanna come in?" You caught your breath and nodded, a little embarrassed.

"So, Jax, huh? He's... not my first choice for you, but I will be 100% supportive!" She said with a smile. "Thank you, Rags.. I just know how to confess to him. What if he..laughs you know?"

"Hm.. yeah, I see. He can be a jerk sometimes! heh.. But, I think if you're serious.. he'll listen. Like really listen. I have an idea! Practice on me."

"W.. What? On you? That'd be, too.." Your voice trailed off.

"Come on, y/n it's just me!" She nudged you and caused a smile to lift at the corner of your lips.

"Fine." You rolled your eyes before straightening up your back and looking the doll in the eyes as if to get into character.

"I've.. wanted to talk to you about this for a while now.." You started your 'confession.'

Unbeknownst to you, Jax finally managed to shake off Kinger and was searching for you. He checked your room first , then a few others before ending up in front of Ragatha's. "I finally get rid of that nutcase and you ditch me. Givin' me a taste of my own medicine, huh?" He spoke outloud just before he rose his fist to knock on Ragatha's door.

Before his knuckles could make contacr with the wood, he heard your voice and leaned in. That permanent smile was growing on his lips. He was evesdropping, of course, because why wouldn't he?

Unfortunately, this was the first time he regretted doing so, he heard you.. confessing!? He quickly pressed his head a bit harder to the wood. Making out the words carefully.

'I love you. I.. wanted to tell you for the longest time but I didn't think you saw me in that way.'

Love? Her? Since when?

Jax felt clenched his fist , absolutely seething. Sure, you were only friends with benefits, but maybe you should have disclosed our feelings for the rag doll before allowing him to rearrange your guts.

He stomped off to your room like that of an upset child and waited , sitting your bed and staring at the door.

Meanwhile, you were giving Ragatha a goodbye hug, squeezing the doll. "Thank you, that helped a lot. I'll .. let you know how it goes." You parted ways and headed to your room, knowing Jax would either be there or eventually show up sometime tonight. You were in a chipper mood, full of confidence as you swung the door open to your dimly lit room.

Immediately, you felt the wave of anger hit you. It was thick in the air. And Jax was sitting there, his eyes on the ground and his smile not there. "Jax..?" Your voice was small, you couldn't muster up anything more than that.

"So, you and Ragatha, huh?" He almost spat. "Y'know I knew you were a slut but, .. you really had me fooled."

"What? Jax? I can explain— it's not what you think." You said and nervously scoffed towards the end of your sentence.

He took this as you laughing at him, "C'mere, doll." His voice was flat, not playful and teasing like it usually was. Your body didn't want to move.

"Now."

You shuffled over, a familiar heat growing in between your legs. You knew this was a misunderstanding and knew you could clear it up if he let you speak.. but he was also really fucking hot right now.

"Jax just listen to me please." You begged.

"On your knees toots, ya know. I was here first, befofe her. If she's gonna have you, its not gonna be til im done with you first." He said, pointed at the ground, and you instinctively fell to your knees. "That alright with you doll?' He was still checking in, making sure he wasn't really doing something you didn't want but you nodded eagerly.

"Like I thought, a slut." He scoffed and gripped the back of your neck, pulling you closer as he pulled his semi hard cock from his pants. "Be a good girl and suck me off, I want you to go back to Ragatha with the taste of me on your lips." His words morphed into a whisper towards the end, and a breathy chuckle escaped his lips. Your stomach was in knots.

He yanked you forward again, and you whimpered, lips brushing against his tip. Your mouth opened and accepted him inside with ease. He moaned, "Mn.. yeaah.. ya think you have the luxury of takin your time? Nah." He slammed your head forward and you scrambled in between his legs , gagging on his cock as he used your throat like a flesh light.

"J.. Just like that, take it .. gonna shake that little brain up til you forget about her.." He groaned, and your eyes fluttered shut. Trying hard to keep up with his thrusts, but they were too sporadic. To harsh, yet your cunt throbbed the entire time.

He was quick to spurt ropes of cum into your mouth, pulling back— his cock slipping out of your mouth with a lewd pop. "Nh.. hhaa.. " You tried to catch your breath. "Now, what were you tryna say earlier doll?" He leaned back on his elbows, also trying to catch his breath.

"I was .. practicing my confession to.. ragatha.. it was just practice..f-for you.. Jax.."

His ears seemed to get straighter, pointing directly up upon hearing that. He immediately slid off the bed and kneeled next to you. Gathering your face in his hands and wiping your damn hair from your face, "Me? You.. were plannin' on confessing to me..? If this is some kinda joke y/n—"

You cut him off and planted your lips onto his cheek. Peppering his face in kisses. "It's.. not a joke. I love you, Jax." You were flushed, your body still so turned on yet filled with emotion as well.

"So , you wanted me to face[censor!!] you huh? Ya could've told me to stop ya airhead." He teased and stared at you with a softer grin.

"I didn't want you to, you getting all jealous was actually pretty hot."

"Was it now? C'mon toots, on the bed.. I got some makin' up to do." He said and helped you onto the soft mattress, "Oh and.. I love you too. Took ya long enough."

[kissesforsatoru]

MINE FOREVER | wc: 1.1k

BONTEN! SANZU HARUCHIYO x GN! READER

₊˚⌗ after a bad argument with sanzu, you try to leave him. he doesn’t take it very well. or sanzu’s yandere awakening

⤷ cw : general yandere themes, violent thoughts, violent outbursts, threatening violence, choking, mentioned murder, possessive behavior, a lot of cussing, reader is in love with sanzu but vv scared of him, sanzu doesn’t really understand his emotions, comfort??? maybe??? it’s up to interpretation i guess, somewhat soft sanzu

"haruchiyo, you're being mean," you say while looking up at him through your tear-soaked lashes. your voice sounds so raw when you speak his full name, cracked and broken from all of the crying you've been doing, but no doubt the way he's been treating you attributes to the defeat in your tone.

he looks at you with an indecipherable expression, but inside of his head he's overwhelmed by thoughts assaulting him all at once at full force. mean? he's being... mean??? something about the word catches haruchiyo off guard. he's used to you screaming at him that's he's an asshole, a heartless monster, and anything else that dehumanizes and villainizes him in the worst ways, but you've never called him fucking mean before. what the hell does that even mean, and why does it hurt so fucking much to hear that coming from you? his hand reaches up hesitantly to rub at his chest where his heart is, irritated that it won't stop thumping painfully against his ribcage.

"what did you honestly expect from me, angel? i'm a murderer. murderers aren't exactly fucking nice you know," he spits, rolling his eyes. he immediately regrets it. why does he regret it?

a weak noise falls from your lips and the pang in haruchiyo's chest thrums faster, harder; he's now digging his nails into his skin with an angry growl, uncaring of if he starts to bleed. no wound, not even ones from knives or bullets, hurt as badly as whatever the fuck it is that he's experiencing right now. it's excruciating, and annoying.

you laugh, dry and bitter, "yeah, what did i expect?" you whisper under your breath just loud enough for haruchiyo to hear. you aren't agreeing with him, that much haurchiyo understands. you're questioning why the hell you're even with a crazy bastard like him.

he wants to strangle you for being so snarky, watch you struggle and beg for his fucking forgiveness for causing such a big fucking problem for no fucking reason; you should expect only bad from haruchiyo by this point, so why bother bringing up all the things he does wrong? but... sanzu doesn't move to put his hands on you even a little bit—something is stopping him. he doesn't know what.

"haruchiyo," you call, sniffling and biting back a sudden onslaught of tears, "this isn't working out."

another pang, and now a sudden feeling of restlessness itches at him along with it. shit, did he take a new drug and fucking forget about it or something? what the hell is going on with him?

"what?" he growls, finally taking a step towards you. you flinch, closing your eyes as you look away. haruchiyo ignores it despite the fact that, again, his heart aches and pounds and practically cries out in pain with the way it's beating so fucking loudly that the sound rings incessantly in his ears. 

he takes three more steps before he's right in front of you, bending down a bit so that he's face to face with you sitting on the couch. "you wanna fucking repeat that for me, sweetheart?" he hisses. you flinch again, leaning back a little bit so that he's not so close to you. you're shaking, which almost makes him smirk, but he's honestly too pissed off to really find any sort of amusement in your fear right now.

"this isn't working out, haruchiyo. i can't do this anymore," you whimper pathetically. a sob slips past your lips when haruchiyo slams his hand on the couch beside you.

"that's really too fucking bad. you're not leaving me," he snarls, pushing you down onto the couch and crawling over you to pin you under him. you whimper again when you feel his hand on your throat, right at the juncture of your neck and jaw, squeezing with enough force to be threatening, but not painful. he watches as you sob uncontrollably, hiccupping and choking on tears that slip between your pursed lips.

"haruchiyo, please," you barely are able to say through the scratchiness of your voice that cracks under each word, "you're scaring me. you always scare me, i—i can't live being scared all the time." you try to reason with him, but haruchiyo isn't a reasonable person in the least bit. he clicks his tongue.

"you're fucking mine. you belong to me; do you understand me? you don't get to leave me because of a stupid fucking reason like that. you don't get to leave ever." he squeezes on your throat tighter, still not tight enough to hurt you, but your hands instantly shoot up to grab at his wrist anyway. he doesn't try to push you off because you aren't a threat to him; he can easily overpower you and for that reason he lets you have your semblance of security.

"i asked you a fucking question, y/n, you better fucking answer me," he urges, leaning down closer to you to you to nip at your cheek in warning. you gasp and whine at the feeling and clamber to muster up a reply that will satisfy him in your fearful, anxiety ridden state.

"mhm, yes– yes, i understand, haru," you manage to get out, and you hope the nickname you always call him will help you to soothe him, reassure him enough for him to ease up and let go of your neck.

he looks down at you for just a few seconds that feel like hours under his intense gaze, and then, "good. don't you ever try to pull that shit with me again or i will break your fucking legs so you can't even dream of leaving me," he warns, letting go of your throat. he doesn't move off of you though; instead, he dips down and his tongue presses into your skin to tenderly lap at the tears that are still pitifully slipping down your cheeks, humming at the salty taste. you breathe out a sigh of relief and lay limply under him, allowing him to do with you what he pleases.

when he's done, haruchiyo lowers himself onto you all the way and wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer into his body. he kisses at your cheek and jaw sweetly, and you hate to admit that the action lulls you, calms you down and makes you feel safe again—haruchiyo has that effect on you, unfortunately.

the pain in haruchiyo's heart has dissipated, and he feels at ease knowing you no longer wanna leave him. he realizes he would die if he ever let you go and he's going to make damn fucking sure that you don't.

© 2023 by kolyasobsession━all rights reserved. modification, reproduction or plagiarism of my works and theme are strictly prohibited. likes, comments, and reblogs are highly appreciated.

[swanimagines]

A MISTAKE | KAZ BREKKER

Summary: Imagine doing an unsuccessful heist and Kaz taking it out on you.

The heist hadn't gone as planned. It was no one's fault, you had just been incredibly unlucky, but Kaz was still enraged at everyone and looking for a guilty one, accusing everyone on their turn before you stepped in.

"Kaz, stop it." You sighed, wrapping your arms around yourself. "We could have done nothing otherwise. Sometimes these things happen, it isn't anyone's fault. You made a brilliant plan, we all tried to follow it-"

"No," Kaz grumbled, glaring at you in turn. "A mistake like this can't happen without someone taking responsibility. You weren't much of an use either, or what were you doing there at the hallway when guards were rushing towards us? We could have hid, but you gave us away before we could. I blame you all the same for this failure!" He shouted, his eyes flashing dangerously.

Your face dropped at Kaz's words and you took a step back from him. His hands clenched around his cane as he glared at you.

"I didn't do anything wrong," you mumbled, trying to hold his gaze.

He snorted and turned away from you. "Yes, you did. This wasn't your first job, so why the hell did you think you could get away with going solo there?!"

You rolled your eyes, clenching your jaw. "I had to! They could have reached us and killed us all if I didn't slow them down!"

Kaz scoffed. "If you would have followed the plan, we could have had an opportunity to hide!"

"No," you shook your head quickly. "They knew exactly where we were, they would have surrounded us and either imprisoned us or killed us! For your information, I saved our lives so thank you so much for your fucking gratitude!"

"Kaz, they're right, we could have-" Jesper tried to intervene but Kaz interrupted him.

"This is between me and them, keep your mouth shut!" Kaz growled.

"Hey, let's just all take some time to calm down." Wylan murmured as he carefully approached you but Kaz still hadn't stopped.

"You're of no use," he snarled at you. "We don't need people like you during heists, maybe you should take up the broom instead or stay in your room, out of sight."

"Kaz!" Inej scolded him while the rest of the Crows stood dumbfounded, staring at Kaz in shock.

Your eyes became glossy, tears threatening to spill over. But Kaz still didn't seem to care. So you turned around and sprinted towards the Slat, letting the cold wind bite your face as your tears finally began cascading over your cheeks.

The Crows stood there for a while, seeing you disappearing to the crowd. Then they all laid disappointed looks at Kaz.

"Happy now?" Nina sighed and started walking faster, with no doubt of wanting to offer a listening ear for your once again broken heart.

They all knew you both had feelings for each other, but you didn't deserve to be treated like this by him. Kaz was usually cool and collected, but his conflicted feelings for you merged with frustration was never pretty to watch. But this was something worse than your usual bickerings, and Inej noticed the slight flash of regret in Kaz's eyes. He hid it incredibly well, but it was still there. She'd pop by his window in the morning and talk him into apologising to you like so many times before - you deserved to know he still cared about you, even when you had fights like these. She was just concerned about how many fights would you take before giving up on him...

---

Inej's presence floated in the air early in the morning. Sun had barely risen, and Kaz had once again stayed awake the whole night. You had usually made him sleep a little, even take a nap. Telling him his brains would be able to work harder if he slept and he wouldn't feel so frustrated.

But yesterday, from obvious reasons, you hadn't come to talk him into going into bed for a little while. It had felt weird, but Kaz knew the reason. Nina had taken food with her at the evening and headed towards your room, laying a glare at Kaz as she passed him but didn't say anything.

Kaz had sensed Inej long before the shadow passed his desk and Inej's soft steps approached him.

"Kaz," she sighed. "You owe them an apology."

Kaz ignored her. "What time is it?"

"Early."

"Is anyone else awake yet? We need to start working on a new plan."

"No. We need to talk about your fight yesterday with a certain Dreg."

"Why?" Kaz asked, irritated.

"When will you go and apologise to them?"

"There's nothing to apologise for."

"You had them cry in Nina's arms for an hour. Nina had to help them to fall asleep. So yes, you do have something to apologise for."

"It's fine, Inej."

"I'm serious, Kaz."

"They'll get over it."

"If you want them to hate you forever."

"They already hate me," Kaz muttered.

Inej sighed, staring at Kaz for a moment. Kaz ignored her accusatory look and just continued working with the plan. Suddenly, Inej's hand appeared on his way.

"Saints, Kaz!" she exclaimed suddenly and Kaz's eyes met hers for the first time today. "You need to think about their feelings for once."

"I don't have time to think about whether someone gets hurt from things I say, in the Barrel, you have to be tough and if you aren't, you're screwed." He huffed.

Inej sighed. "We all know you care about them more than you care about the rest of us. We know you have feelings for them."

Kaz paused then, letting a long breath through his nose. "I don't have feelings for them."

"You do. We all have seen how you look at each other. Nina has heard your heart when you look at them. You both are just so stubborn and won't act for it. It's getting ridiculous."

"It's not like that."

"You say it's not like that, but still everything points the other way."

"You don't know what you're talking about," Kaz growled, his fingers tapping the desk.

Inej groaned. "Kaz, you know you want to go to apologise. Swallow your pride for once.."

He huffed. "Dirtyhands being soft for someone doesn't fit the picture."

Inej laughed and rolled her eyes. "I know that while living in the Barrel and being a crime boss, it's necessary. But I know you. This is just petty, and you don't want to lose them. Go apologise. Or I'll drag you there."

Kaz looked at Inej for a moment longer before he took a big breath in and stood up. "Fine," he grumbled, "I'll go talk to them."

---

Kaz didn't know how long exactly he had stood in front of your room. He couldn't help but think that you would be too angry at him to speak - and Inej's claim of you having feelings for him.

It wasn't possible. Kaz's feelings for you were hardly possible, so yours would be even less. And you'd deserve someone better than him anyway.

Kaz tried to convince himself of this, but a little voice echoed at the back of his head.

What if they do like you back?

He stared at your door for a moment longer before finally bringing himself to knock.

A groan was heard and then your groggy voice, "Coming..."

The door opened and Kaz's heart started to beat faster the moment he saw you. You squinted your eyes at the light and when you recognised him, your expression immediately transformed into a scowl.

"What do you want?" you snapped, your hands on your hips and your hair messy from sleep.

Kaz opened his mouth but then shut it again. You were angry, he was sorry but he didn't know how to word it. He sighed.

"I thought we should talk this through," he finally said, taking a step forward.

You didn't say anything and just stared at him for a moment. "Oh, mighty Dirtyhands wants to talk now."

Kaz groaned and was quiet for a moment. "I owe you... an apology."

"I don't want to hear it," you said and attempted to slam the door shut, but Kaz got his cane between it and pushed himself inside to your room.

"We need to talk," Kaz said, moving his cane into your way again. "And I won't leave until we do."

"Stop that," you snapped.

"Why?"

"Because I'm trying to be mad at you."

Kaz bit back a smile at that. "If you want to be mad at me, you need to have a proper reason for it."

You huffed and crossed your arms. "Fine, then talk."

Kaz sighed and laid his gaze on his hands gripping the cane. "What I said last night was needless and inconsiderate. I..." He clenched his jaw and cast his eyes downwards for a moment, and then met your eyes again and continued. "I apologise for it."

He glanced up at you, expecting to still see your anger, but instead, your expression was confused.

"Well, I wasn't expecting that."

Kaz smirked at your confusion. "I know how to be an asshole, but I'm trying to be a good boss, too."

You chuckled. "I've gotten used to you being an asshole even when I know you care about me- care about us, I mean, so... it's weird to hear you apologise."

Kaz huffed with a small smile, his heart thudding. He smiled at you, and you were smiling too, and he felt his heart jump at that.

"Have you slept at all last night?" you asked him.

Kaz shook his head. "No. I had work."

You sighed and rolled your eyes. "Work can wait, you go have a nap right now."

You opened the door for him, and you began ascending the stairs together. Kaz smirked at your order. "And if I won't?"

You laughed. "I'll knock you out and drag you to bed. Your call."

---

Requests are always open! FANDOM LIST | PROMPT LIST(S) | RULES (READ!!!)

[evangelineshifts]

FUCK IT !

You know I started thinking about the analogy that people use for manifestation and shifting comparing it to when you order something online.

And for me that analogy made sense but I could never truly relate to it cause when they said “you don’t wonder when your package is coming, you just know it is and you don’t question that etc etc”

And while yes that is true to a certain extent, I actually DO wonder when my packages are coming sometimes. I DO check how far they are from my location. I do anxiously wait for them to come.

I realize that that’s okay. Cause no matter how many times I check the order status. No matter how many times I check how long it’s been since I ordered it, my package STILL CAME.

I think the way we’re told to restrict ourselves from thinking about how much time our manifestations are taking or when we’re gonna shift actually makes it worse.

When you tell someone not to worry about something, to let it go and not thinking about it, to feign indifference the harder they’re going to try to. Which in turn just makes them think about it more.

It’s counterproductive at best.

When I order something I do think about how long it’ll take. I do check the status but once I do I just kind of go on once I’m done. I don’t really feel any particular way about how long it’s taking cause I know it’s mine and it’ll get here.

I trust that the delivery service will get it here in due time cause that’s THEIR job not mine and leave it at that 🤷🏽‍♀️

Another thing I noticed is that in ordering things- at least for me - I don’t worry about HOW it’s gonna get here. It could be delivered on my doorstep, in the mailbox, dropped from a fucking helicopter, ANYTHING, and I have never once cared.

And it might just be me being slow and realizing this is what they meant in those posts later than everyone else but it’s just like- clicked !

I’m always SO worried about the process of shifting.

What method should I do? Should I even do a method?

What if I get bored? I dont want to do it if I’m bored.

What will I think about? Should I look over my script? Maybe Pinterest boards for visuals?

What if I forgot something? I should check my script.

What if I fall asleep?

What if? What if? What if?

WHO FUCKING CARES?!? That is not why you’re doing this. Who cares about that process when the end goal is the destination.

I’ve been avoiding shifting for the longest because I just kept stressing out over the shifting aspect of it. I would maladaptive daydream about my dr and be happy in that but the thought of attempt a shift made me groan.

The thought of affirming and persisting in my manifestations seemed strenuous.

But thats not the point. With practices as fluid as this focusing on what to do is literally the last thing you need to be worried about and I just now realized that.

You’ve probably heard this all before but like fr, do whatever the hell you want. If you want to shift wide awake, eyes open and dancing with music blasting in your ears- do it. Who’s gonna tell you that you can’t? Who has the credibility to say it’s impossible.

No one.

If you want to manifest by literally saying one affirmation and deciding it’s done and then going on doing whatever the fuck you want until the 3D catches up, then do it.

Tell yourself it works for you and then do it.

✧ dividers by @benkeibear !

[sixosix]

Hi! I'm on a sae brainrot lately it's gonna consume me and your fics are soo good😫 can I req a sae with reader in love with him despite being friends with rin, I just love the idea of rin being annoyed with the two of them giving each other heart eyes when reader comes over to their house, thank you sooo much!

think of this as an au where the itoshi brothers aren’t as insane and strained ur welcome ALSO ANON HELPP this idea is so funny

rin doesn’t consider himself as someone who has homicidal urges. on a good day, at least.

but you are making it harder and harder not to just strangle you and yell out strings of profanity whenever you sigh dreamily over his brother.

his big brother, of all people. rin knows that he and sae are pretty popular, but for his best friend to be head over heels for his brother when you should be immune to the itoshi bloodline is a bit absurd.

“it’s the best friend’s brother thing,” bachira said. rin has no idea what that means, but apparently, it’s when people go crazy over the best friend’s brother. rin hopes that none of sae’s friends are giving him the same googly eyes you do whenever sae passes by—that would be horrifying.

“he’s so handsome,” you explained to him when he asked why you are so obsessed with his brother in blood. “so—! just soo fucking—” and then rin asked you to not finish that sentence because he might have to damage his eardrums by hand if you continue.

that’s not even the worst part, no.

a normal person (like rin) would think that, okay, pining isn’t that bad. crushes are normal. my friend’s weird obsession with wanting to kiss my brother stupid is normal, maybe. but no. it’s not that easy. rin cannot just coax you to move on or force to imply anything in case sae hunts him down.

because his big brother, itoshi sae, is in love with you.

rin doesn’t know when— how it started. he just found out when you had to come up to rin to ask for something and left like a frightened deer, and sae, dead-inside, doesn’t-give-a-fuck-about-you sae, kept staring at you until you were out of sight. there was a smile on his face—a fond one, if that makes it any better.

(it does not. rin didn’t even know what to say at this point. his hands are itching.)

“that’s just a little brother thing,” shidou remarked once when rin lamented about his worrying urge to throttle you and sae simultaneously. rin understands that one, at least.

you have to come over today.

it’s not a big deal since you’ve come to his room to hang out before. it’s not always voluntary on rin’s part; you just appear out of nowhere, carrying pillows and about three blankets, materializing out of nowhere and onto his doorstep.

the difference is that his brother is back in japan, and you’re coming over today.

why is this a problem?

well, for starters: rin is not fond of seeing you make a fool of yourself and cry about it to him later on. he sleeps through it, usually, but you smack his head when you meet again, and he is afraid he might get brain damage soon.

second, rin only stays in his room, so it is where you follow. if the time comes you leave, sae will interrogate the hell out of him and give the coldest glares out of sheer jealousy. rin cannot be bothered to explain that no, he doesn’t like you that way, and sae is free to take you.

he doesn’t want to expose you like that, though. he is not that much of an asshole. as horrible and hilarious it is to watch you trip over yourself to see him, rin knows you genuinely like sae.

rin sees it in the way you smile helplessly whenever anyone mentions him, and rin can tell that it’s serious. you’re still his friend; he still cares about how this will work out for you.

“rin, i’m telling you,” you say, and in your excitement—or hysteria, really—you fail to notice that your voice is terribly loud. “shidou is out to get me. i have nightmares about him hunting me down because i beat him four times. he has a bat with nails on it.”

“let him win, then,” rin deadpans.

although it is his house, he’s the one trailing after you. mostly to make sure you don’t eat all the ice cream. again.

“i can’t lose to shidou, rin. that’s a stain on my resume.”

“then don’t dream about shidou with a bat with nails on it.”

“you’re the life of the party, itoshi.”

you yelp as you turn into a sharp corner on the way to his room. rin blinks at the sound and visibly deflates when he realizes who you’ve crashed into. he holds back a groan, knowing precisely what’s coming next.

cue: romantic guitar, doves flying, bells ringing.

“y/n,” sae says, holding you up by the shoulders.

“...sae,” you reply, belatedly. and then proceed to gape at him as if you forgot that he is rin’s brother and they live together for that reason.

“nii-chan,” rin says, too, because he really is not in the mood to witness this.

sae blinks up at rin. “where are you two going?”

rin hesitates. “my room.” you’re still steaming because sae is still holding you.

sae narrows his eyes.

“y-you can join us!” you blabber, refusing to meet sae’s eyes—which is horrible, really, because if you just took a single glance at sae, you’d see how his eyes softened impossibly.

“don’t say that.” rin scowls. he already has it rough having one lovesick freak in his room; he is not fit to handle two simultaneously, for each other, too.

“i’ll join,” sae decides instantly, staring right at you. rin wants to throw his hands in the air. “what did you say about shidou?”

thx for reading i had too much fun w this LMFAOOO

[slutouttanowhere]

WIP of the week

Drew’s little princess

Pairing: Drew McIntyre x black!oc

Warning: phone sex, Drew talks you threw it, uses of the phrase “daddy” and lots of other pet names. Soft dom vibes

Special tag: @cardierreh15 (not a wrestling fan but loves Drew)

A/n: I literally finished this, this morning on my way to work, none of it was edited it, and it’s a wip. My friends encouraged me to finish so here we are, this is a nameless oc sorry for that. This will most likely conclude my wip of the week, I posted another one yesterday day go check that out it should be added to my master list by the time you see this one. I chose this picture of Drew because he really is just so sweet and adorable. This was really more so inspired by a Quinn audio that I was listening to, if you haven’t heard of Quinn (not sponsored) it’s an audio erotica app, I fucking live it worth every penny.

I’m standing in the hotel bathroom all fresh, clean, and ready for bed. Despite getting the snot beaten out of me hard enough to make me sleepy, I’m wide awake. A sensation stirring inside me, at my very core between my thighs. My mind flashed back to earlier that night when Drew had me pinned to the wall, his fingers teasing me, and how he refused to finish the job.

“Dick head.” I scoffed, and rolled my eyes. I try to put it in the back of my mind, and get some sort of sleep. I crawl into bed, to my credit I had tried each sleeping position at least once, but to no avail did it work. I laid on my back, one hand resting on my forehead, the other placed on my stomach. My fingers twitched at the thought of Drew, and I fought against it because I made some stupid unnecessary promise to myself that I’d wait for the real thing knowing damn well we’d might have a rocky re-start. I put the sex between Drew and I to a halt because “I wanted to be a mature adult, and have a healthy fresh relationship,” well look where that’s leaded you, you dumb hoe. My hand slowly slid down my body stopping at my navel to caress the exposed skin of the heart shape cut out in my sleep dress. The soft touch was decent enough to work me up, but not quite enough, and I was becoming impatient.

I spread my thighs slightly, just enough to fit my hand between, and I instantly come in contact with my own wetness. Not too much, but just a few drops from my excitement, I sigh out loud knowing that if I were to do this alone I’d have to work harder for it. My eyelids were already drooping, half of me wanted to just rest so badly, and the other half wanted to be fucked through this goddamn bed. Right when I pushed my fingers between my labia is when my phone rung.

“Ugh, you gotta me fucking—

I turn over to look at my phone on the night stand when I nearly choke on my spit. Drew is calling me. Stupidly I answer the phone, I swallow thickly, afraid that he’d somehow seen what I was doing.

“Hello princess.” His accent never ceases to excite me, granted he’s worked on his dialect over time so it doesn’t sound so much like gibberish. He’s mixed his English, and Scottish accent well. I’m convinced it’s only something he could pull off, I sigh in an attempt to cool my temperature, and slow down my thudding heart.

“Still with that nickname?” Not that I was opposed to it, it was something that started off as a stupid joke meant to get on my nerves for the time being. But as we got closer it took a life of its own, not to mention the way Drew says it in particular.

“If the shoe fits. ” He quips, I snort, and now I’m starting to wonder why in the hell he called me. Before I could speak, he cut in with a soft slow start, “And it does fit you, no matter how tough you think you are, I know the truth.” I could hear the smirk on his lips in his tone, that pitiful spark of sexual tension I had earlier was being stoked. His voice caressed around my ear as if he was right next to me. He knew how to trap me, even after all this time apart, he knew what kinds of games I liked to play.

I hummed in response, I was barely able to speak, at least not coherently. “Yea? What truth is that Andrew?” I asked, my voice unintentionally shrinking.

“That you’re not so aloof to your effect on people, especially the men in your life. They’re all wrapped around your pinkie” He claimed, a bit of frustration mixed with lustfulness in his tone.

“Yea?”

“Yea.”

“And what about you? Are you coming to my every beck and call?” It was a genuine question, I didn’t care about what anyone else wanted from me, his attention mattered the most to me.

His end went silent, if it weren’t for his heavy sigh, I would have thought he hung up. There was some shuffling before he answered, “Feels like it, but I’m not complaining. Who am I if not a loyal servant.”

His confession sparked me back to life, suddenly no longer feeling tired, and the excited bumping of my heart dared to jump out of my chest. “Just say you worship me then.” It was a joke mostly, I wasn’t sure if he was picking up on my mood from over the phone.

“Are you lying down right now? On your back?” He suddenly asked, my head tilted, but I answered anyway.

“Yes.” I confirmed, my hand rested lazily on my lower stomach.

“So you were thinking about me then?” He didn’t need confirmation for that, it was just a habit I fell into, and that’s what stupidly told him about.

My body answered for me, the ache between my thighs stirred, and my back was already arching up off the bed. He took my silence as the confirmation he needed, a deep chuckle could be heard from his end. I’m glad he found this funny.

“Where are your hands?” He asked, my fingers twitched, and began to make circles on my skin. Goosebumps rose on my skin, and sent a shiver down my spine.

“On my lower stomach.”

“Listen to me very closely sweetheart, I want you to be a good girl and do as I say. Can you do that for me?” He asked gingerly, and I had no choice but to obey, how could I be a brat when he’s being so sweet?

“Yes.”

“Take your fingers, the middle and ring finger. Put them up to those pretty little lips of your, and suck on them for me.” He instructed in a soft voice, I stared up into the dark, and just as the tips of my fingers touched my lips he spoke again. “Close your eyes angel.” I could hear the grin on his lips, he knew me too well, and I loved that for me.

I let my eyelids flutter close, now being totally enclosed in darkness, my middle fingers in my mouth as I was told, and Drew’s deep voice caressing me. “That’s my good girl, I love it when you listen. That’s how you get rewarded isn’t it?” He chuckled deeply at the sound of my airy sigh, I imagined these were his fingers, and that his hands were caressing my breast. Despite what others may think, Drew was truly a gentle giant. He’s a teddy bear, and I reveled in the fact that he’s all mine.

“Now, I want you to spread those thick, luscious thighs of your sweetheart, as wide as they can go.” He instructed quietly, his voice sounded euphonious, he could talk the pants off anyone. My hand rested on my inner thigh, it didn’t feel nearly as good as Drew’s large, warm hands. The feeling of the way he grabbed me made me weak in the knees; he had a way of making me feel strong and beautiful, while simultaneously making me feel small and dainty.

I could hear shuffling on his side of the phone before he settled, “you still with me angel?” He asked, I didn’t trust my own voice, but I mustered a response.

“Mmh, I’m here.” I mumbled,

“Good, I know you’re not wearing any fucking panties are you?” He didn’t wait for my response, because of course he was right in his assumptions. “I don’t want you to waste any time, I want to put you to sleep tonight.” My heart melted at the gesture, I always had trouble sleeping, but not since Drew and I got together. If he wasn’t fucking me to sleep, he’s singing to me, talking to me, or watching tv till I couldn’t keep my eyes open anymore.

“Take your wet fingers and trace over that pretty pussy lips of yours.” He paused as my fingers slid over my luscious labia, the coldness of my fingers in contrast to the warm soft skin caused a slight throbbing that was hard to ignore. A chill ran over my body causing goosebumps, and hardening my nipples. The friction from the cotton dress made a sharp pain shoot across my skin, and right down to my core.

“Ah.” I moaned out, a tickle sensation arouse between my thighs, and all I wanted my Drew here with his hand wrapped around my throat telling me how pretty I was.

“I know baby, I know, but don’t touch your clit just yet. Slide one finger in, use the middle fingers just as I would have. Go slow, take your time, you’re gonna finish I promise.” I loved how I wasn’t expected to talk, he allowed me to enjoy the moment, but that’s all I could manage in this state regardless. I pushed my middle finger into my core, slowly at first, instantly I’m coated in my own slippery sap. This was Drew’s doing, “fuck you turn me on so much Daddy.” I whimpered, I pumped my finger slowly arousing myself even more, and when the throbbing started I lifted on leg back as far as it could go.

“Keep going sweetheart, I want both fingers as deep as you can go.” He encouraged me to continue, I paused for a second to put connect my phone to my AirPods so he’d be in both my ears. It took me a second to get back in rhythm, but soon I found my groove again.

My lips fell open, my eyes fluttering close as waves of pleasure ripples through me. Though it still wasn’t enough, the nagging throbbing from my brown glistening bud wouldn’t stop. “Ugh…fuck I need it, mmm.” I pouted, tears of frustration lined my eyes causing them to sting.

“I know, go ahead and take those fingers, and put them back in your mouth and taste yourself. Tell me how good it is.” He grunted out, the sound of his voice surrounding me, I laid there with my eyes hooded, half sleepy, half aroused. Honestly my favorite combination. “Damn, Im good.” I giggled sucking every last bit off my fingers, and letting them go with a pop of my lips.

“Why in the hell do you think I’m so feral about you.” He paused to instruct me further, “pull those gorgeous breast out princess. Just let them fall out naturally, don’t try and hold them together or anything. That’s it baby, I can see how comfortable you are, the way you’re laying with one leg back, spread wide for me as much as possible.” He inhaled deeply, “such a good girl for daddy, isn’t that right?” He cooed, a draft of cold air caressed my nipples, they tightened sharply.

“Ohh, Daddy please, can I come please.” I begged, he always had me feeling so sensual, yet animalistic. The way he talks to me, the way he touches me, it made me want to rip out of my clothes and let him have his way with me where we stood.

“You’re so sweet, I’d give you anything you asked, do it baby rub that pretty pink bud of yours. Fuck if I was there I’d suck on it, and wouldn’t let go tell you were a fucking mess in my hands.” He kept talking while I drew circles around, and around, slowly building myself to an explosive climax. I relaxed my body into the soft hotel cotton sheets, I didn’t wanna cheat myself by going too fast. I was trying to off my own greediness. “And oh my god how I love the feel of you in my hands princess, it’s all ever think about. That soft, warm cinnamon skin, god how do you always smell so good. I mean the fragrance mixed with your natural scent, and fuck that body.” I didn’t care if he was reading me the goddamn car manual, his voice was so mother fucking sexy I almost came right there.

“I know you don’t like talking about your body, but I swear every time I see your arse I just want to fucking take a bite out of it.” He groaned, I wasn’t sure if he remembered that I was here from the way he was rambling, but his high praises made me feel gooey. “Then those strong, yet squishy thighs…mmm makes me want to take my tongue, and run it over every inch of you.” He voice came out huskily.

“I’m so close.” I whispered trying not to disrupt my own flow by talking.

“Don’t stop princess, don’t you fucking stop, let me hear it baby. Let me hear how much of a good little slut you arm for me.” Still in the softest, yet gruff voice, Drew talked me into a climax more intense than I could have imagined. I knew for a fact it wouldn’t have been this good without him, my body convulsed, and that back of my head buried into the pillow as I arched my back as deep as I could. My thighs clamped close around my hand, my breaths deep, and shaky. I wasn’t sure how loud I was, but I couldn’t be bothered with something like embarrassment right now. All I could hear was Drew soothing me, I knew if he were here, he would have turned me over on my stomach, and rubbed my back till I passed out like a freakin baby.

The second my body relaxed I was falling asleep, and I didn’t even try to fight it. My tension had finally been released thanks to him, and he didn’t even have to touch me. “Get some rest princess, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Was the last thing I heard before the phone hung up, and I drifted off to sleep.

[starcrossedxwriter]

Wicked Fantasies Part 2 (MBJ x OC)

Warnings: noneeeee

“You fuckin’ idiot!” Alex seethed, the clicks of her heels reverberated throughout Michael’s living room as she stalked, TMZ playing loudly in the background. “What part of ‘cleaning up the image’ was difficult to understand?” 

Michael gripped the back of his chair in his office in frustration. It was not just the shitty situation he found himself in when he woke up this morning, it was also his manager’s attitude. However, he did not correct Alex. He had been working with her for most of his career and the reason Alex had lasted this long was that she was unafraid of calling Michael a ‘fucking idiot’ if he was acting like one. 

“Why didn’t you just call the ambulance and then wait to leave? Did you need to do the walk of shame across the hotel lobby with her??” 

Michael scoffed. “If you think I’m that type of nigga, you really don’t know me. She was unconscious. How was I supposed to know there were fuckin’ cameras in the lobby??” 

Alex threw his hands up in the air. “Because it’s 2022 at the fucking St. Regis! There’re cameras every fuckin’ where! Do you think I have you go in back doors and service elevators for fucking fun??? Because it is easier??? Why do you insist on making my job harder?? Do you hate me or something? We’re on the biggest run of your fucking career. And you jeopardize it for some pussy?” 

Michael’s fingers massaged his temples. He had not gotten a single break in the last three days. He felt like he was stuck in the deepest circle of hell since he drove off from Raven’s apartment days prior. Every moment of his day was consumed with one thought, one singular person: Raven. What was she doing? How was she healing? Did she come up with the money she needed? Should he write her a check and drop it off anonymously? Would she even accept that or appreciate it? Question after question ran through his brain regardless of how hard he tried to excommunicate her from it. She was stuck to him like super glue. He replayed their one night together over and over again, jerking off on more than one occasion dreaming of the things he wished to do to her body. So many disgusting and filthy things. 

This disgusting pining lasted for two days before he gave in, last night, and called Helen to schedule another date with her. And it was not even about the sex. She had a concussion so he would not feel comfortable fucking even if she was up for it. He just wanted to see her, check in on her. And that terrified him. Never had a one-night stand or woman he paid to sleep with captured his mind quite like this. He loved fucking Tasha but he did not pine for her or even really think about her outside when he was horny and needed release. But Raven… she was something he had never experienced before. And he hated it. So in a split second decision, he booked Tasha instead, in hopes that fucking another woman would get her out of his mind once and for all. And it worked for a moment. The few hours of sleep he got after leaving Tasha was the first Raven-free sleep he had gotten until he woke up to his face plastered all over TMZ as he followed the EMTs wheeling her out of the hotel. 

The angle of the camera blocked her face, thankfully, but there was no mistaking him. The media ran with their own stories, some neutral and some speculating things Michael would never have dreamed of. It was a PR nightmare, which is why his manager was at his house to do damage control. However, Michael did not particularly care about his own reputation. He just worried if there was another angle with Raven’s face visible. He was used to being in the press, often for being attached to different random women, but Raven did not seem like the type who would enjoy such attention. And he did not even have her number to call and satisfy the small part of him that wanted to check in on her. The part of him he despised. 

“Are you even listening to me??” Alex called out, ending her rant to realize Michael’s mind was clearly elsewhere. 

Michael straightened up and pushed Raven out of his head for a moment, a true feat. 

“My bad. Look, I didn’t jeopardize anything. You can’t even see her face! Besides, no matter what the press says, everyone loves me, we’re good.” 

Alex shook her head. “That isn’t the point. You don’t think they won’t try to figure out who this girl is?? Try to piece together some story about something nefarious or terrible that happened? You were seen leaving a hotel with an unconscious woman… there are only a couple ways I can spin this shit that it doesn’t look bad for you. And just so you’re clear, people want to fuck you. They don’t love you. At best, people think you’re neutral and at worst, they think you’re an asshole. The only thing they all agree on is that you’re one of those things with extreme talent, a cute face and award-winning smile. So they ignore that ambiguity because because every woman and some men want to fuck you.”  

Michael walked over to his decanter, pouring himself a glass of whiskey. He did not care that it was 10 am, it was 5 pm somewhere in the world, he supposed. 

“And now you’re drinking at 10 a.m. Should I add a stint in rehab to my list of things to spin this week?”

Michael chose to ignore that dig. “You made your point, Alexandra. I’m sorry. I’m an ass,” he admitted, which he knew was true. He would never win an award for sweetest personality. “So what can we do? What are the ways we can spin it?” 

She shrugged. “Well, the truth would be fine… embarrassing but unproblematic IF she wasn’t a prostitute. I’m all for the girls getting their money but now really isn’t the time in our culture for you to be attached to a prostitute.” 

“It’s 2022, who cares if I pay for sex?” 

“I think people care if you paid for sex and it was so rough you sent her to the damn hospital, Mike. That’s what people would care about. And then it’s a whole other thing… did she want it that rough, did she know it would be that rough, did she consent to whatever caused the accident? And the answer to all of those could be yes and we could say that but without her word, it’s murky as fuck. And then it begs reporters to ask the question, are there women with sorted tales of rough sex with Hollywood’s favorite movie star that they didn’t want even if this one was consensual? Also I don’t necessarily think it’s a good time to admit to the world that you pay for sex damn near every week.” 

“Plenty of men pay for sex, Alex.” 

“Sure and that’s fine. But people judge them too. When you’re handsome and could just be in a relationship. Look, I’m not judging but it sends a certain playboy, unattached message. And that shit was fine when you were 30 but we’re pushing 40. And you’re the one that said when Creed 3 comes out next year, you want to take the jump to directing more. Producers, studios need to see you as a serious person to take you seriously as a director. Denzel is serious, George Clooney is serious, John Krasinki is serious, Kevin Costner is serious. And studios trust them with projects because they are serious people! You know what all those men have in common?? They are settled, family men with beautiful wives who are kick ass in their own right and they DON’T frequent prostitutes! Or if they do, we don’t fucking know it because they aren’t plastered on TMZ. Look, I say this with all the love in the world for you… but you’re the definition of an unserious person and I need you to get serious before you’re a fucking 45, washed up actor wasting his incredible talent playin’ the same role in every action movie because no one takes you seriously.” 

Michael nodded. “I hear you. And I understand. I promised I’d clean it up and I slipped. But we can fix this… we always do. If the truth works, why don’t we just say that-” 

“Did you listen to anything I just said?” Alex immediately started to say before Michael cut her off. 

“With a minor lie… We say it was my girlfriend. We were enjoying a night after partying, had sex, fell off the bed, she hit her head, I took her to the hospital out of an abundance of caution. And we turn it back on the media and say they infringed on a private moment between us by turning a health emergency into a public spectacle.” 

Alex rubbed her forehead. “Thank God you are attractive,” she muttered to herself. “I mean in theory, that’s the ideal play but there’s one major flaw in that plan, you’re tragically single. Like I’ve known you for a decade and you’ve never even been romantically tied with a woman for more than a night. I can’t sell a girlfriend that doesn’t exist anymore than I can sell magic at Hogwarts. And there’s no woman that we could pass off as this girl in time. ” 

“What if we say it’s Raven… the actual girl?” The words slipped out of his mouth before he could stop himself. There were flaws in the plan, he could recognize that. But he wanted to see her again and this might be his only option to do so.

“I’m all for a PR relationship, don’t get me wrong. They can be successful. But it won’t help you if and when one of her old clients comes out later and tells the world she was a prostitute. Then we are back where we started but worse because everyone knows you were in a fake relationship.”  

Michael shook his head. “Nah, nah, she’s perfect. I was her first real date so there are no clients to come out to say shit. Helen is hella strict with her girls, no press, so if I had to guess, she’s gonna fire her,” though the thought frustrated him as she did nothing wrong. “So there’ll be no record of her working for an agency. We can say we were tryin’ to keep it under wraps because she isn’t used to the spotlight. I haven’t been seen with a fling in months so we can say it’s fairly new. Besides, if there’s a camera with an angle on her face, it covers our asses.” 

Michael did not want to admit why he was fighting so hard to enter into a fake relationship with Raven. Did not want to admit it to Alex or himself. This was a dangerous plan, he knew it. There were so many reasons it was foolish and would fall apart. But he did not care about a single one of those reasons. He reasoned that this was a logical course of action. She was probably the best person to enter a fake relationship with too. She understood how to put on a show and what she was being paid for and knew that no feelings would be involved. This would be a mere business transaction, he would get her and his own feelings out of his system, and everyone would be happy. 

“It… could work,” she admitted. “But you’d have to keep up a public relationship with all the fixings for at least six months to sell it. You’d have to do everything I say, NO more visits with Tasha or any other woman. We’d need to get through the premiere of your current film next month, the holidays, the Creed premiere, nominations, and the Oscars in March before you could break it off. Would she even agree to that? Most of these relationships work because it’s mutually beneficial. You know another celebrity who could use the PR bump. What would even be in it for her?” 

“Let me worry about that, aight? Just trust me. I messed up, let me fix it this time. My first step as a serious person.” He flashed her his award winning smile, which made Alex laugh. 

“You realize I am the only woman on the planet that shit doesn’t work on?”

He shrugged. “You’ve stuck by me this long… I think it works on you too,” he winked at her.

“Barely,” she mumbled. She stared at him for a moment before surrendering to his plan. She did not really have a better one at the moment. “Fine. I can give you 12 hours to convince her. We need to get a statement out tomorrow morning. Fix this, Mike.” 

“Consider it already fixed,” he vowed, determined to clean up his own image and get what he wanted in the process. 

***

“Helen, please! I need this job!” 

“And I can’t have my girls plastered across Page Six and TMZ. Press brings attention I don’t need.” 

“You can’t even see my face!” Raven argued. “No one knows it’s me. Please don’t do this.” 

She knew Helen could hear her pleas but she also knew the woman did not care. “Honey, the internet will figure out who you are like that,” Raven could hear the faint snap of fingers through her phone. “And I can’t have you on my roster when they do. I told you if it went left, you were out. Gotta cut you loose.” 

“B-” The phone cut out as Helen hung up on her, clearly exhausted from arguing when there was no changing her mind. 

Raven slid back into bed and tried to keep the tears from falling. Not out of pride this time, she was alone with no one to hear her sobs. But she knew crying would only make the dull pain in her head worse. She tried to hold it in until it became difficult to breath, small gasps filling her quiet bedroom. She grabbed her pillow and forced it over her face to muffle them as they turned into all out sobs. 

Helen was right, the internet would realize who she was in no time. And then her life would truly be over. She’d never get a job anywhere ever again, she’d likely lose the day job she had right now. She shuddered to think what her family would say. Likely, it would give her father the excuse he always wanted to toss her out of their lives for good, but part of her felt like that might have been the one silver lining to everything. And before that shoe dropped, she would have to figure out the larger looming financial problems barreling toward her. While her bills were just barely covered with her job and residuals, she had not come up with the rest of the money she promised her family and her only way of making fast cash was gone. .

She just needed a break, a break from the stress of life. The last 18 months had been hell and she just felt like she was dragging around a weight that only got heavier and heavier. But if she stopped or put it down, everything would crumble. She was exhausted and worn out. She curled up in her bed, crying to herself, praying God would send something to help her and fast.

***

Michael knocked at the door of Raven’s apartment. If he hadn’t been there a mere three days prior, he would’ve been convinced his driver took him to the wrong address. He teetered on his heels for a moment or two until the door swung open. 

“Hello?” The young woman, a cute curly-haired light skin girl, opened the door. “Oh umm can I help you?” 

Michael could tell she recognized him, however, he gave her kudos for not completely melting and losing all common sense like most women do when they saw him.

“Hi, I have the right building but I might have the wrong apartment,” he admitted. “Looking for Raven?” 

“Oh yea, she’s in her room. Come in. She’s a bit under the weather though… not sure if she’s up for company,” she gave him an apologetic shrug before calling out for Raven. “Rae!” 

Michael glanced around their small apartment. Though the building and neighborhood left a lot to be desired in his opinion, their apartment was a cute two bedroom. Fairly small, he decided, for two people, but it was quaint. His eyes went to the floor to ceiling bookshelf tucked in the corner. It was clear someone had started off extremely meticulous and organized with it, each row perfectly color coordinated. However, the person had acquired too many books to maintain that level of organization, many sat in neat stacks on the floor in front of the bookshelf, growing so tall, they obscured the bottom shelf.

“That girl consumes books like they’re air,” her roommate remarked, following Michael’s line of sight to the bookshelf.  

He did not even get to acknowledge her statement when one of the closed doors off the living room opened. 

Raven emerged, her eyes red and puffy, all of her curly hair piled on top of her head with a bright colored scarf. 

“What’s up Tiff?” Her words were punctured by sniffles, which let Michael know she had been crying. 

An inexplicable wave of concern hit him. He could guess what had caused it and immediately felt guilty, an emotion he rarely felt about anything. 

“You have a visitor?” 

Raven glanced up, almost jumping when she realized Michael B. Jordan was standing in her living room. He watched as she hastily wiped her eyes and glanced down at her disheveled appearance. She still looked insanely beautiful, even in an oversized sweatshirt and leggings.

“Umm.. h-hi. T-thanks, Tiff. W-what are you doing here?” 

“You two know each other?” 

“Yea we met the other night… at that party…” She shook her head quietly as Michael started to open his mouth. “Umm wanna talk in my room?” She gestured toward her bedroom, Michael nodding as he followed her. 

“Nice to meet you,” he threw over his shoulder to Tiffany as he followed Raven back into her room. Her face was neutral as she ushered him inside and shut the door behind him.

She had never been more displeased to see anyone in her life. Her date with him was supposed to be her big break and all it did was send her tumbling back to the bottom again. She was not mad at him, he had done nothing wrong. But between her concussion and the inability to stop thinking about him for the last three days and now losing her job, it was all too much to handle. And she knew he only came down there to talk about the photo and ensure she was not going to say anything to the media. 

“What are you doing here? In case you were confused, this counts as creepy stalker shit! Like right up there at the top of the list!” 

Michael was not expecting her visceral reaction to him, one of anger. However, he did not let it deter him. 

“I needed to talk to you.”

“About the photo?” she rushed out, just wanting to get him out of her room so she could go back to wallowing. “Look, you wasted a trip. I already lost my job so if they figure out it was me, it’ll just look like a one-night stand. And I don’t plan on selling our wild night together to a magazine or anything if that’s what you’re worried about. That wouldn’t be fair to you.” She walked over to her bed and plopped down. “So whatever you came to offer me to keep me quiet about your kinks and what happened, keep it. And if you want me to sign something, whatever, that’s fine. Just hand it over so we can get this over with.” 

He wrinkled his nose in offense at the assumption that he was there to pay her off. While he did have a certain “playboy, bad boy” image, he would have hoped he did not give off the vibe that he wanted to buy her silence. He knew it happened but it was not his style.

“That wasn’t what I came by to talk about at all. I do wanna talk about the photo but first, I just wanted to see how you were doing? I didn’t have your number and wanted to check on you. You got a concussion and then the leak… you were already stressed at the hospital, figured this didn’t make shit easier. Thought you could use a friendly face that knows what’s goin’ on?”  

Her expression softened. She had not expected that. Nor had she expected him to so accurately determine what she needed. It had been a hard day with this looming secret and no one to talk to without outing herself. Tiffany was a good friend but she would not agree with how Raven chose to make extra money. 

“O-Oh… umm… t-thank you. That’s r-really sweet. S-sorry for assuming the worst. I just figured you…” she stopped herself. “Never mind. I’m fine, or at least I will be. Head hurts less. Few more days, I’ll be healed a-and I’ll figure out the rest. Or just wait for my life to implode,” she grimaced. 

He stared at her. “You’ve been cryin’.” His eyes scanned the waste basket by the desk, which was overflowing with tissues and the ones that littered her soft rose and cream colored comforter. “A lot for just a few hours. You can be honest with me.”

She rubbed her eyes, trying to stop more from falling. “J-Just been a rough year and a half or so, rough life,” she whispered. “I take a step in the right direction and get knocked five back.” She cleared her throat before shaking her head, her body language telling Michael everything he needed to know. All he saw was exhaustion, exhaustion that clung to the bones and never let go, exhaustion so painful it was difficult to even admit it to yourself for fear of giving into it. “But it’ll turn around. So I’m good, I’m good,” she assured him. He could not tell if those words were more for him or herself. 

She stared at him for a few moments, feeling the awkwardness of having a movie star in her small cluttered bedroom. “That it?”

“Um no, actually. I might have a solution to both of our problems… if you’re interested.”

She laughed and shook her head, laying back down on her bed so she could rest her head. He had already seen her in the hospital, she figured he could deal with watching her lay down. 

“Unless you have a job for me, I don’t really know how you can help me.” 

“Well actually… I do. It’s not a traditional job or some shit but it'll be worth it. Be my girlfriend for the next six months.” 

He said the words so casually and easily, Raven would have thought he was asking her to be his dog walker. She immediately sat up, her eyes bugging out of her head. 

“What??”  

He stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets. “My movie is coming out next month and my directorial debut is next year. The role is already getting buzz for award season. But my team thinks I need to change up my public image ahead of the promo and seem like a more serious person.” She wanted to laugh at his use of air quotes around ‘serious.’ “The photo didn’t really help and if it comes out that you were hired, it just won’t be a good look. So you pretend to be my girl for six months, get me through the premiere, the holidays and award season. Then we can go our separate ways.”  

Raven could only stare at him blankly, shocked at the words coming out of his mouth. She thought this sort of thing only happened in tv shows and in the lines of spicy romance novels. But here, a rich man stood trying to “Pretty Woman” her.

What the fuck is my life right now??

At her continued silence, Michael added, “You wouldn’t need to see me every day or anything and I’d pay you your rate with Helen for every date. My stylist would get all your clothes and outfits for the events so you wouldn’t need to worry about that.” 

Admittedly, as a new girl, her rate was not as high as Tasha’s, she just got lucky taking a date from her. But even still, she knew that she would make a hefty chunk of change by the time the endeavor was over. Though she found the proposition insane, she would have been a fool not to ponder it. He promised a hell of a lot of money for six months of work. One major question trampled over all the other more logical and logistical ones, falling from her lips without a thought. 

“Why me?”

Michael had hoped she would not ask this question. He did not have a good answer. It would’ve been better, likely, to attach himself to an actual celebrity. But Raven was the more authentic choice. However, there was also the underlying reason he even suggested it in the first place and it had nothing to do with logic. 

“My team wants to spin the other night as the media infringed on a private moment between me and my girlfriend. It being you is the most plausible option in case someone got a photo of your face.” 

Raven studied him for a moment. “That's the only reason?” 

“Yea. What else would it be?” He offered, his tone short to avoid any further questioning on the matter. He could tell it did the trick, though it bothered him to see the hurt flash across her face. However, she recovered quickly. 

“Of course,” she muttered. “So what would it entail?” She gestured toward the chair at her desk for him to sit. 

Her room was incredibly neat for someone who spent the last week in bed. More books were neatly stacked in nooks and crannies across the space but her desk was immaculate. His eyes locked in on a poster above the desk, a Toni Morrison quote written across it. 

“If there’s a book that you want to read, but it hasn’t been written yet, then you must write it.” - Toni Morrison 

“Damn, how many books you got around here, girl?” 

She laughed, “Far too many to count. I have more… a whole collection back home at my dad’s. These are just the ones from my master’s and since I moved here.” 

“How many books you read in a year?” 

“I average about a book or two a week… some are shorter, some are longer.” 

“How do you find the time for that?” Michael was amazed. He had hobbies but he never had time to actually pursue them. 

“Reading is my job and my hobby,” she shrugged. “But you didn’t come all this way for that. So playing your girlfriend, what would it entail?” While she appreciated his interest in her hobbies and life, she did not want him to be interested in those things. Questions, trying to get to know her, implied something that she knew could not be there or be true. This was work and she did not need to add anymore fuel to the brewing idea that he cared for her beyond their business transactions.

“We just gotta appear like we’re dating. Dates when I'm in town, I go to an event or two a week but you probably ain’t gotta go to all of them. A couple instagram posts and shit like that to sell it.”

That did not sound terrible. She did not know if she wanted or was interested in the public scrutiny but even she could not deny that he was offering her a damn sweet deal. “Sex? Or would you continue to see Tasha?” 

“If you don’t want it to be, it doesn’t have to be. I wouldn’t see Tasha unless I can do it discreetly. But my manager would probably kill me. It would be easier on everyone if it was. Less opportunities for anyone to slip up. We had a good time, right? Besides, I still have a few things I wanted to do to you before our night got cut short.” He winked at her. 

Raven hated how cocky he was. He knew damn well she had the time of her life with him. But she refused to admit that she had been fiending for him like he was a highly-addictive drug since she last saw him. 

“I’d be amenable to that as long as no tables are involved.” 

“What if they’re bolted to the ground?” he teased. Though it ended poorly, he still thought about how that position felt, and could still hear her screams of ecstasy in his ears. They would most certainly be doing it again even if he had to bolt every table in his home to the floor himself. 

Her lips curled into the first genuine smile since he dropped her off three days prior at his joke. 

“I’d be open to that.” 

“So we have a deal?” 

She watched him, he seemed almost nervous. As if he was worried she would reject him, as if any woman with eyes and a brain had ever done that, she thought to herself. And even though every cell in her brain screamed that this was the worst idea possible and would end horribly, she could not find that reason enough to reject his proposal. Instead, she said, “Y-You know this is crazy right? These fake relationships and shit, people see right through them.” 

“Maybe, but it’s worth a try, right?”

“You know I thought this type of shit only happened in books… you’d rather pay me to pretend to love you than actually find a woman who does and build something real with her? I mean don’t you want a serious relationship and love and all that at some point?” 

He shook his head. “No, I don’t.” he answered shortly. “And even if I did, I ain’t got time to find it. Look, we both got immediate problems and this is an immediate solution. Besides a few months with me and you’ll make money… influencer shit, find another rich guy, whatever. But if you aren’t interested, all good. I’ll get outta your hair. I just thought we could help each other?”

Raven studied him for a moment before nodding. The reality was he was right. She had immediate problems that his money could solve. And regardless of what she thought of his choice to go down this path, it was a job and no different than what she did three nights prior. 

“We… have a deal. There are worse jobs, I suppose.” 

*** 

“No! Absolutely not. I’m not moving out of my place.” 

Michael scoffed, confused as to why Raven was insistent on fighting him on this specific point when he thought it was the most generous part of the deal. She had agreed to literally everything else with ease but the apartment was the first time he heard her pushback in the last hour. “You know most women in your position wouldn’t argue with a nigga tryin’ to give them a free spot for six months. Besides, I looked up the crime statistics in that neighborhood -” 

“You know you aren’t really disputing the stalker allegations at all, right?” She did not understand why he would even care where she lived. 

“Just doing my due diligence,” he offered lamely. “And it’s dangerous as fuck. Why you even live there? Someone like you ain’t built for those neighborhoods.” 

She sucked her teeth in annoyance. “It’s a true community, one of the last left in LA I imagine. Far more of a community than what you have with your neighbors in this high rise,” she gestured around him at his condo downtown where they were meeting, “Or in your mansion in the valley. It’s affordable and just because it doesn’t look the best or bad shit happens - which happens everywhere in LA - doesn’t mean it’s a bad neighborhood. I know every family on my block and almost every single one in the neighborhood. And everyone knows me and everyone helps each other out. Besides, it’s close to work.”

He let out a chuckle. “None of Helen’s clients live or would step foot in that neighborhood.” 

She rolled her eyes. “I have a day job… I work at the library a couple streets from my place.”

He raised an eyebrow. He supposed it was not that shocking even the mini library of books she had at her apartment. However, he had not stepped foot in a library since he was a kid. And none of the librarians in Newark looked like her. 

“Maybe I would’ve stayed in school longer if the librarians looked like you.” His voice was playful and teasing. “That can’t pay a lot?” 

“It's a public service so of course not. Hence my very cheap rent and moonlighting job as a prostitute.” She grabbed her glass of water from the coffee table and leaned back into the couch. “But it’s fun. And gives me a lot of time to read and write on my shifts when things are quiet. And I started some fun initiatives and stuff since I started last year. Anyway, the point is, I don’t need a new fancy apartment down here. I like my space. Why do you even care?"  

This part was harder than she thought, ironing out the logistics of their new arrangement. Michael had invited her to his spot downtown, a condo he stayed in when he had late nights in the city. She just figured they would be going with the flow of things. But here they were, debating how many events a week she would need to accompany him to and where she would stay. He kept offering her extravagant things that she quickly turned down. 

“I don't," he answered shortly. Or least, he knew he shouldn't. He tried to cover it up, but even he knew his cover stories were lame. "My manager just thought it would look more legit. But if you don't wanna move, fine. You should stay here a couple nights a week then. There's always cameras around here, they need to see you comin' and goin' like a girlfriend would. This can be where we stay after dates and shit. My team will fill the spare closet with new clothes.” 

“Fine. And new clothes? What’s wrong with my clothes?” 

He sighed. “There’s nothing wrong with your clothes as an everyday thing but you should look like your boyfriend is… well, me. And that means an… elevated take on your current style.” 

She rolled her eyes. “As long as I don’t have to change my whole style, fine. And look, everything you’re offering is nice but feels excessive. All I care about is keeping my life and reputation and stacking enough money to put myself in a better position.  If there’s an event you need me to come to or something you need me to do to sell it, just text me and I’ll do it. You’re paying me to do a job so I don’t really need anything else from you, whether it’s an apartment or a closet full of designer clothes. I’m not trying to milk this arrangement for all it’s worth or steal from you. You’re paying for my time on dates and for sex, that’s all I expect.”

Michael studied her for a moment. He was hoping she would have arrived at this meeting with demands and extravagant desires but she did not seem to care. She was willing to do everything he asked and wanted nothing but the money he promised in return. No extras, no frills, no anything. It was the exact opposite of what he expected from her. And he knew it should’ve made him happy. This would be the most straight-forward business deal he negotiated in years. However, something about it bothered him. He knew it shouldn't. He knew the words about to leave his mouth were dangerous. After all what business partner cared if the other person was short changing themselves when it benefited them? He knew he should not care but here he was… going against all the voices in his head that screamed that at him.

“Are you always this amenable? To everyone?” 

She wrinkled her nose. “I’m just not selfish. You act like it’s a bad thing?” 

“It is if you let people run all over you. Being amenable is why you paid some portion of $10k to bail someone out of jail when it was clear you didn’t have it.”

She cut her eyes, sending him a glare that was so unlike her, it was unnerving. “That is none of your business.” He had never heard such sharpness in her voice, quickly realizing he had struck a chord and not a good one.

“My bad,” he raised his hands in surrender. “I just… it isn’t selfish to demand what you want too, to ensure a situation favors you just as much as the other person. So if down the road, you realize there’s something you want out of this, aside from the money, just name it. Business transactions are not about just getting the bare minimum of what you need… you’re allowed to get the things you just want too.” 

Her heart somehow both inflated and sagged at his words. There he was again, seemingly caring about her beyond the parameters of their relationship. And she could not deny that she liked it, the idea that someone cared about what she wanted, not what she could do for them. But she did not let herself bask in it for too long. Because there was so much Raven wanted in this life, so much she wanted from Michael, but she knew she could not have any of those things and he could not give them to her. 

“Last thing, sex.” 

She stared at him, confused. “I thought we agreed that we were having it?” 

He laughed. “Yea we did. We can keep it to nights when you’re already working so it’s easier. And any other nights, I’ll pay you so don’t worry about that. But if we’re gonna keep doing what we did the other night, I’d like to make sure we have ground rules.” 

“Ground rules?” 

“Like what are your hard limits? Lines I shouldn’t cross?” 

“You spanked me and called me names… hardly need rules for that.” She waved her hand to dismiss him. “We’re good. Just do what you want.” 

Michael merely laughed and stood up. He continued chewing on the toothpick he had between his teeth while he stretched one hand out for her to take. 

“Come with me.”

He led her through the apartment, down the hall to the largest bedroom. She took the quick journey to study the apartment, shocked at how sterile it felt. It could’ve been an AirBnB, furnishings as generic as the ones she could pick up from Target. Though she knew his were far more expensive. She wondered what his other home looked like, this was clearly just a bachelor pad. But she had not spotted a single family photo or anything of note in the entire place. It was beautiful, just… cold. 

Michael turned on the light and led her to the middle of the room. He stood behind her and used his hand to move her kinks to the other side of her neck before resting his hands on her hips. 

“That bed has about six different ways for me to restrain you. The different configurations allow me to put you in any position I want and you can’t move. So much shit I can do with that.. My favorite thing is,” he lowered his voice and leaned in to whisper in her ear, not shocked at how her body stiffened slightly and her breathing skipped. “To tie your arms and legs to the bed and leave you there with a vibrator. See how long it takes you to beg me to cum. Most don’t last long.” 

“Have you ever heard of shibari?” 

She nodded. At his silence, she immediately corrected herself. 

“Y-Yes.” 

“Good girl. Ever tried it?” 

“No but I’d be open to it.” 

“I learned on my first trip to Japan, been studying ever since. Gotten pretty good at it.” A single finger traced intricate patterns across her skin as if he were envisioning exactly where those ropes would go on her skin. He had barely touched her and her panties were already soaked. “This ceiling fixture,” he gestured up to it above their heads. “Is rigged to hold 300 pounds. I can already imagine you suspended from there while I fuck you. You’d like that?” He stepped around to face her, smiling at the way her eyes darkened and her nipples pebbled beneath her thin shirt.  

“I-I think so,” she whispered. His fingers returned to her body, now lazily grazing the bare skin of her thighs, inching the fabric of her skirt higher and higher.

“That bench,” he jerked his head to the side, her eyes falling on a nondescript black cushioned bench at the foot of the bed. It was tall, taller than the average bench, which let her know it was not made for sitting. “Is the perfect height for me to spank you if you disobey me, which judging from the other night, I’m sure will be often. I already know you’d like that though, right?” 

His hand squeezed her ass as he leaned in and sucked on her neck. Her body fell forward and rested against his, giving into the tantalizing pleasure he was providing. She was embarrassed by the breathy moan she let out but could do nothing to stop it.

“I asked you a question,” he reminded her. 

However, Raven felt as if she no longer had a voice let alone coherent thoughts to offer him and answer his questions. She did not understand how he had this effect on her, how she was so willing to surrender to his every whim. But she was, everything he said ignited the most impure and wicked fantasies in her mind. She pictured his words and more so clearly, they might as well have been watching a porno. 

“Y-Yes, I w-would,” she offered through gritted teeth, desperate to hold onto some amount of decency. 

“And that chaise is perfect for any and every position I could ever want you in. And the mirror lets you watch yourself while I fuck you. Oh and I’m gettin’ a swing installed next week. Perfecting timing. And that chest over there,” her eyes went to the last thing of note in the room besides his other standard furniture. “Well, I’m waiting for everything to come in but by Friday, it’ll be filled with brand new floggers, nipple clamps, gags, vibrators, plugs, and a leash since you enjoyed crawling to me so much.” 

If it were possible, her face would have flushed with red at his words. 

“How do you know I enjoyed it?” She tried to sound defiant but she knew it was weak. 

He smirked. “Cause if I told you to drop to your knees and follow me around this apartment for hours, I’d bet my life you’d do it without a second thought.” 

She was thankful he did not phrase it as a question so she was not forced to answer him. The truth was, she would. She would do anything he told her. 

“So, I have a lot more than some colorful names and a spanking in mind if sex is part of this arrangement. This really ain’t the thing you want to be amenable to without thought. Tell me what you want and don’t want. Because when we step in here, I expect you to surrender. And that requires trust that I know your limits and won’t cross them.” 

He took a step back from her, his body reeling from how badly he wanted to fuck her. And how badly she clearly wanted him to. But as badly as he wanted her, he vowed that he would only see their time together as a transaction. They went on a date and had sex, he paid her. And that meant, he could not give into his every sexual whim or thought. Otherwise, he would be fucking her every day and they’d never leave this room. And there was no way he’d survive the six months like that.  

“You also don’t have to tell me today, either. Just think about it.”

She nodded, she really did not want to think about it. Not because he was wrong but because she did not want to think or admit all the things she desperately wanted him to do to her. 

Her phone buzzing pulled her out of the trance he had her in. Thank God, she thought to herself as she read the alarm on her phone. “Oh shoot, I better head home. I… host a book club on Wednesday evenings at the library.” 

“I’ll walk you out.” 

Raven was thankful to escape his bedroom, it was a danger zone for her and her thoughts. 

“So um… you have my number w-when you’re ready for a date. J-just give me advanced notice, if you can? You know if I need to adjust my work hours or something.” 

“How about Saturday evening? My team released the statement this morning and it's getting good play apparently so it’ll be good for us to post a picture or be seen out and about this weekend. We can start small with dinner, ease you into the spotlight.” 

“Sounds good. Just text me what I need to wear.”

“Don’t worry about that. They’ll pull an outfit and send it over to you.” 

“You sure? You really don’t have to,” she started to say before he cut her off. 

“It’s easier cause they’ll coordinate the look and make sure it looks good for photos. Don’t worry about it.” 

She made her way to the private elevator and hit the lobby button. 

Michael reached in and hit the P button. “Elevator will take you straight to the car, driver will meet you in the garage.”  

“Have him meet me out front. You said there’s always a paparazzi or two lurking around. Maybe they’ll catch me leaving?”

He raised an eyebrow, impressed. “You sure this is your first fake relationship? Already acting like a pro.” 

She laughed and shook her head. “No, I just want to make sure you get all the bang for your buck. I like to excel at every job I have… would hate for you to leave me a bad review with the fake girlfriend's business bureau.”

“Don’t see that happenin’ at all.”  

She thought the smolder was merely something actors did in movies. But here he was, smoldering and it made her want to rip her clothes off in the middle of his elevator and demand he fuck her. But she couldn’t. Self control. This was a transaction and she could not give into her desires outside the realm of payment. That would be dangerous. 

She cleared her throat, forcing her feet to take a step back into the elevator. “Ok, see you Saturday,” she offered awkwardly. 

However, before the doors fully closed, she stopped them. 

“Tying up is fine, just want a nonverbal cue if you’re gonna gag me and I can’t speak. I like pain but my pain tolerance isn’t that high so there’s a limit on what I can take. So if you’re like a sadist or something, we can go ahead and dead this. Oh and no bodily fluids aside from the ones that are naturally involved in sex, don’t make me explain what I mean… the stories I’ve heard,” she shuddered, causing Michael to laugh. “No hitting except spanking, of course. Choking is fine. And no threesomes or other people. Oh and I’m fine with no condoms, if we’re exclusive and you get tested for STIs and bring the results with you on Saturday. I will get one too. Oh and make sure the collar is padded or lined with something for my neck,” she clarified. “That’s all I can think of. I am willing to try anything else once and I’ll use the safe word if I don’t like it. How do those rules sound to you?” 

“That’s it?” Her list was perfect, aligned to his own personal limits fairly well. He would’ve expected more for someone so green. 

Raven seemed to pick up on his shock causing her to laugh. “I know the vibe I give off,” she admitted. “And I am all those things… innocent and straight laced. But you aren’t the only one with fantasies. You told me to get what I needed and I wanted. … I need the money and I want an escape from my reality, total surrender and escape with someone I trust to explore those fantasies with. And right now, that’s you.” 

He did a small double take at her words. “You trust me already? You don’t even know me.” 

She shrugged, for some reason, she felt as if that was not true. On some level, she did know him. Or at least, a piece of him. And that felt like enough… at least for now. 

 “I think I know enough. See you Saturday,” she smiled with a small wave, the elevator doors finally closing to take her to the lobby. 

Michael stood there in his living room, slightly dumbfounded. 

“This girl…” he whispered. He was already cursing himself for this ill conceived plan. He knew, at that very moment, he did not have the willpower to keep his feelings at bay for six months. The only question now was, how long would he last?    

Tag List: @readinghere2023 @blackerthings @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @physicxal @purplehairgawdess @miyuhpapayuh @rueruesclues @geemamii @certifiedlesbianbaddie @pipsqueak-98 @nyifly22 @twocentaur @gopaperless @musicisme333 @roguekiki @majesticbrownjawn @taurusqueen83

***

A/N: So we are in the thick of ittttttt. The babes are pining and entering in a fake relationship…. what could go wrong LOL the smut returns next chapter, promise! And we get their first real date.

Drop a comment and let me know what you think or if you want to be tagged! Thanks for reading!

[porcupine-girl]

I realized today that I've been blaming my writing going all to hell on covid. And that's definitely part of it - wisps of brain fog always linger for several weeks afterward, and I find it significantly harder to think of the word I mean for things than it was a couple of years ago.

But I realized today that something else happened at the same time:

I got covid for the first time in July 2022.

And my kid went into 7th grade a month and a half later.

Why is this significant?

Because 7th grade meant switching from elementary to middle school. And while the elementary school had an after school program that meant he got home between 5-5:30pm, the middle school had no such program. He stayed after for clubs, but they were only twice a week for an hour, and not the entire school year. They usually didn't start til October and ended in April.

My brain does not turn on properly until 2-3pm most days. This is just how it works. When I was in grad school (before having a kid, and when my husband lived in another city), I would go to campus and work 3pm-10pm many days, it was great. That is perfect.

Having a kid fucked this up, because suddenly my most productive time of day is filled with dinner and bedtime and such. When he started elementary school with this after school program, that helped because at least I had 2-3 hours a day after my brain turned on and before he got home.

Suddenly middle school is here, and he started getting home by 3:30, 4:30 when he had clubs (which again, was not most days). So suddenly I went from 2-3 hours of work time to an hour at most, and sometimes even when I thought I'd get that hour he'd show up at 3:30 because robotics club got cancelled.

Now high school is the same way - thankfully, his bus ride takes a while (he rode his bike the half mile to the middle school), so even though they get out at 2:30 he doesn't get home until 2:55. But this means I have no work time at all before he gets home and I have to start keeping on top of him to get homework done and practice cello and etc etc etc. The one extracurricular he's done so far, film crew, hasn't even been after school! First they were meeting from 7-9fuckingPM three days a week, then the past few weekends they've been filming 8am-5pm Saturdays & Sundays. Which means I do get time without him on the weekends, but my husband is home and sometimes he's even not working and expects me to do things with him because it's the only chance we get, since he's working most evenings.

So anyhow. I knew this was annoying, but I only realized today how bad it was because I was actually up and medicated and showered and dressed before 2pm (this is a constant struggle on days I don't teach, once again I'd been getting it under control and then covid hit), but I had trouble getting anything done 2-3pm because of the whole but he'll be home in less than an hour, whatever I do I'll have to stop in less than an hour thing that you KNOW renders many of us with ADHD completely useless. And this was the first time I realized that I lost those vital 2-3 work hours every weekday at the exact same time I got covid the first time, and I think that has impacted me more than I'd even realized.

ETA: I should mention that before I got covid the first time, I was actively preparing to query agents for some picture books, as well as about halfway through a middle grades novel, and had published two articles in kids' magazines and was actively querying to get more. Aside from the way my fanfic output has slowed to a trickle, I have made almost NO progress on ANY of these professional writing attempts. What time I do manage to spend on work stuff, I have to use on teaching, because shit will actually happen if I don't get teaching stuff done while if I don't get writing done absolutely nothing happens.

[thesupernaturalhouse]

Right so- Emily's personality ir charlies design for the hazbins Fallen au?? Which should I talk about first??

Let's go with Emily-

Alright! So, Emily is still her cheery self but also due to the nature of the au defiantly isnt all niave and trusting and stuff

In this au, she's learning about seras lies from others, which I think would give her trust issues. I also made her more, angry

I imagine in the au she holds grudges a lot more, mainly against alastor, and has more of a silent anger type personality- here's a small snippet of the pilot for the au

Emily: alright so now we watch *Katie starts throwing insults* ...oookay- vaggie, spear, down *gently holding said spears tip down

Vaggie: wha- but, come onn

Emily: no 'come onn' I don't think you scaring people with you angelic spear is a good ide- *Katie says soenthifn homophobic* .....neveemind *releases spear* do whatever you want ant. I want that bitch to fear for her life

Or it'd go something like that, I'll work out any kinks when I start writing the story, first I wanna awake an episode layout whoch is harder then it loks- I have the ideas but I need it in a list so- jsut gotta sort through all that

Like she isn't like Vaggie, spear raised, but not like Charlie, easy to forgive.

I do imagine she bites her tounge however if you ask for her hienst's opinion, she will NOT hold back. I think once she and Husk become more of a father-daughter duo, he starts rubbing off on her, and she starts blurting some ruder things out

He is so proud of his little(200k year+) girl

It's probably the most evident when I have her tell of Alastor- which will also be one instance of her being super protective over her found family.....listen I know yall love Alastor i do to, but I think he fandom over hypes him, and so does he himself, and I want Emily to kinda call him out, and threaten him in this au

But that'll be another post :)

Remember how I said charlie and slaviathen are like Ron and Tammy 2 but without all the sex? Yeah, well, then Emily is Diane! Vaggie is to but vaggie mostly focuses on getting them out and stuff. Emily and slaviathen just have passive aggressive argument and comments thrown at each other

"Always a pleasure to meet you charlies friends" "*strained smile* always a pleasure seaweed hair stranger" "oooo-Kay let's go- and let charlie Dela with this"

Why vaggie is passive with sleviathan and Emily is the protective one? Honestly idk but I think it's funny :) maybe it's cause Vaggie knows Charlie doesn't tale shit from slaviathen one bit so lets her gaurd down more because she knows charlie has it, so she's more passive or smth

Emily meanwhiem can't STAND being talked down to so absurd bites back no matter what. Which is also why her breaking point would be Katie calling them a slur.

She hates being talk down to, which stems form her years in heaven being treated as a child by almost everybody, good intentions or not it was still always so condescending to her. Especially when it was from Sera or the other heaven born and elder/arch angles

So she definitely internalized that, remember how I said she was often referred to as 'lucifers replacement' by many elder angles?? Yeah, that's where it MOSTLY stems from

She'd also have resentment and hatred for lucifer because of it all, like "I never want to meet whoever the fuck lucifer is" kinds mentality, it's due to this that she refused to search him uo and relaize he was her girlfriends, one of them, DAD

So the dad beat dad episode is...fun!! Emily gets piss drunk with HER dad, husk after realizing the short man in the middle of the living room is lucifer

It's after that whole song at the beginning happens does she realize he's lucifer, cause charlies only referred to him as dad so-

......I should start drafting a psot for her and Peter's relationship- mlm and wlw solidarityyyy

She also be a lot more sexual active I think because liek heaven is restricted so being in hell with norestricrions she definitely is THRIVING on that freedom

I have a scene planned out for when Angle takes them to that bdsm club that involved her buying black silk stuff because why not-

Anyways, the finale change in Emily, I think, for her personality that is would be she absolutely take sfter a more Sloth like sin

"Screw both of you I'm sleeping in!" She absolutely HATES waking up early in the morning, especially if it's after a night of certain events. Vaggie will throw clothes at her and force her to get up. Charlie will already be downstairs full of energy-

[mdhwrites]

TOH: The Problem With Waffles

So someone who has lost someone close to them takes palistrom wood and starts carving. They make them in the image of that which they have lost, imparting upon them a desire for them to be what they once were. Alongside this, their new form allows them to also act as their will made manifest upon the world as both lackey, partner, family and pet. Their life is only meaningful until thrown away, abandoned or ended by that which made them.

Am I talking about Hunter being made by Belos or Hunter making Waffles?

Waffles and Hunter actually have a lot in common, such as how as an orphan Philip likely saw his brother as the man who gave him a chance at life after his parents died, just like Flapjack explicitly did for Hunter when Hunter was going to die. A core element of the problem though is actually with how lame the Grimmwalkers are and the lack of magical materials in the Isles. Rather than a complex set of reagents for witch's brew, we get maybe a handful of items and the big two are Titan's Blood... And Palistrom.

Because of this, it's kind of easy to look at Grimmwalkers as advanced Palismen. Hell, it's actually weird that Hunter CAN'T use magic. Palismen have innate magic just by being made by Palistrom wood. Luz proves that they can do magic on their own since she uses Owlbert to activate glyphs from far away, something she cannot do herself. It's implied as part of why witches are commonly stronger with their staffs than without (not that that ever comes into play at any time). Meanwhile, Hunter has multiple magical components, at least one of which is INCREDIBLY powerful and far rarer than Palistrom wood which would make one assume they're stronger because one of the only ingredients we know of for Grimmwalkers is a Galdorstone. So... Why can't he cast magic? Because he doesn't have a bile sac? Does that mean every Palisman actually gets split in half during carving so you can carve out its tiny organs before sealing it back together without any sign of this crack? Because I REALLY doubt it.

Add to that the fact that Palismen are regularly abandoned by their witches for SOME FUCKING REASON (I think the Bat Queen in S1 should have claimed that witches "...No longer are able to care for them" to imply they died because otherwise, what the fuck?) and most seem perfectly without a Palisman and they don't seem all that different from how Belos treats Hunter. Narratively and functionally the two are just treated the same. One simply takes on a more human form since Palismen are PLENTY sentient and able to talk with others.

It makes how Hunter's arc ends, as a clone of Caleb by how many people read it, including myself, suck even harder. He's not just taking cues from the man he was made to look like after all. By chasing a lost loved one like this instead of letting go and looking to the future, he also copies Belos.

And that is the exact opposite of ANYTHING his arc should imply.

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[creative-kny-fics]

I want to apologize for the person who asked me for the fic that I will show below. I was editing it and it was posted by mistake, it wasn't ready and in a panic, I deleted it. I ask your forgiveness 😭

Ler: Tanjiro Kamado

Lee: Muzan Kibutsuji

'Mr Kokushibo, you truly are amazing! I didn't know you could do so many tasks at the same time!'

'Thank you, I wish everyone would see it that way. But no problem, where do you want me to leave this box?'

'What do you mean by "I wish everyone looked like that"?', Kamado crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow.

Michikatsu just shrugged and tried to justify himself by saying it was a lie, but Tanjiro knows when you're lying, so there was no way he could be fooled.

Even though Tanjiro insisted, the older man did not give in and once his "social work" was finished he retired and left the young man alone.

'It's not right that your boss or other people appreciate your work...' 'What did you expect? That's how grown people are Tanjiro, plus it doesn't seem like that guy cares enough to do anything. If it were him, I would have given up a long time ago and sent them all to hell.'

'Zenitsu! That's very cruel! Maybe he has his reasons... Mmmm, I know! I'll brighten his day by bringing him some desserts! They're sure to make him smile!', Zenitsu shook his head in disbelief and sighed, there was nothing he could do after all.

After a huge controversy over what dessert he should bring, Tanjiro finally opted to bring him some sweet breads, a few mochis and a huge slice of cake, it had to be enough.

Now the challenge was where he could find him, he didn't know where he worked, so that was the next mission.

'I wish I had spent more time with him to ask him where he worked... It's almost half a day... Half a day... Ooooh, I know where he goes to lunch! It must be there!'

But nope, the place Tanjiro went to didn't give him the answer he was looking for, this was harder than he thought.

'Is something wrong with you young man? I've seen you go around the street about 7 times. Are you looking or waiting for someone?'

'In fact yes, I'm looking for someone... But I don't think you know him... Anyway, thank you for your concern sir...?' 'My name doesn't matter now, little one! Why don't you tell me who you're looking for? I know most of the people in the city, maybe I can help you with something', well, there was nothing to lose, was there?

He turned around, the guy was a little tall, with blonde or silver hair, he couldn't be seen well because of the sun, but anyway.

He told him everything about the person he was looking for, this in case he didn't know his name or something similar. 'Oooooh, I know who you're talking about! I didn't know Kokushibo-Dono had friends at school hahaha!'

'Do you know him?! Do you know where he works?!'

'Sure, I'll tell you, but don't tell him that I was the one who brought you... His boss might get upset with him hahaha', Tanjiro agreed.

As they walked, Tanjiro was thinking seriously, was Mr. Kokushibo's boss so bad to bother just because he is friends with a child?

He shook his head, if he kept thinking about it he was going to end up kicking his boss and he didn't want any problems.

'Well, it's here, I hope I've helped you. Tell him to take good care of himself and that I hope to work with him again...'

'Thank you very much sir! Here, I'll buy you something to eat! It's the least I can do for helping me' 'No thanks little one, I'm sure Kokushibo-Dono eats too much hahaha. It's nothing, see you!'

Well, it was moment of truth, it was curious, there was no receptionist or anything similar, now who could he ask about where his office was?

'WHAT THE FUCK IS KAMADO TANJIRO DOING HERE?! HE'S GOING TO RUIN EVERYTHING IF HE SEE US HERE!!'

'SHUT UP KAIGAKU!! We have to think... We are not going to achieve anything... We have to hide and SHUT UP or he will find us'

'And now what's happening to you? Kaigaku, if you're in trouble again don't expect me to save your ass...', Kaigaku shook his head and dragged Michikatsu to where the trio was.

When he looked out, he realized the young man's presence and sighed, leaving and covering his mouth as he dragged him to his office, luckily no one had seen them. 'What are you doing here kid? It's no place for you to be here, mainly, how did you find me?'

'I had help! And to answer your question, I brought you some desserts because I thought you...-'

Tanjiro's mouth was covered again, someone was approaching and it didn't seem to be anything good.

'KOKUSHIBO WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?! I ASKED YOU TO DO ONE THING AND YOU CAN'T EVEN DO THAT?!'

'Sorry sir, I'm coming right now. I got distracted by something' 'I'm not surprised, you're a distracted idiot sometimes', Tanjiro's patience ran out.

Despite Michikatsu telling him not to go anywhere or go out, Tanjiro did it to confront the adult, he was not afraid after all. 'That uniform...'

'Why are you acting like that?! Mr. Kokushibo tries his best and you should appreciate it! Don't yell at him!'

'Don't fuck with me, I don't have time to deal with brats like you. My head hurts so I screamed, I'll apologize, satisfied?'

Naaaaah, the way he said it didn't convince Tanjiro at all, so he came out from under the desk and stood in front of him with his arms crossed.

'Look kid, I don't know you, I'm not interested in knowing who you are and so on. So do me a favor and leave already or else I'm going to... AAAAAHAHAHA!!'

'LEAVE MR. KOKUSHIBO ALONE!!', do you believe what you just read?

Don't be scared my dear readers, Muzan is not ticklish even in his nightmares, and if so, why is he laughing?

Hasn't it happened to you that someone pinches you and instead of hurting you, it makes you laugh? Well, that's more or less what happened here. That "useless" squeeze probably also contributed to him laughing, but anyway, no one understands that man.

'Why are you laughing?! I'm hurting him!!' 'Yohohour stuhuhupihihid attehempt is whahahat mahahakes me laugh... You should...'

'Sir, I already brought you the files, where do you want me to...?', Michikatsu dropped his papers, why?

Well, it's not every day you see a kid kicking Muzan in the balls, so it was something new.

That inclusive blow hurt Michikatsu, who intervened and moved away, even knowing that it could cost him his dismissal. 'Sorry about that sir... By the way, here's the bill for your order...'

'Oh, sure, here you go young man and something extra for bringing you here'

'Thank you, see you! I hope you get better soon sir!', Tanjiro skipped away before disappearing.

You can imagine the scream that Muzan gave for having been humiliated by a child...

But hey, at least, Kamado definitely achieved his goal, he made Kokushibo smile.