#I was about to write a tag that went 'this is exactly what a mentally ill person would say' but. nope. not undermining myself. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

artists-ally · 10 months ago

Note

Hello sweetheart 😘 I really really adore your writing so much ! So, I dare to send in an idea as well 🥰 maybe you're dating Harvey but he barely had time for you lately, so one time he wants to surprise you with dinner at his apartment and you enjoy your time together. Then you both end your evening with lovely passionate smut and lots of cuddles afterwards. In the morning he wakes up before you and takes time in admiring you, realizing how happy he is to have you ? Hope that's not too cheesy ❤️ thank you so much in advance!

{Warm} Reader x Harvey Specter

This has been sitting in my inbox for god knows how long. I thank you for your patience my dear. I love this idea so much, and this song Warm by SG Lewis is just perfect. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it. P.S. nothing is EVER too cheesy for me to write <3

Word Count: 3,998

Warnings: Just some good ole fluff and smut, some very soft dom!Harvey.

Tagging: @rosedpetal @blacktreacle22

Summary: After a particularly brutal month in the office, you've noticed some changes. Harvey is just... not present. Rather than demanding his attention, you just simply float by, knowing eventually he'll return his negligence. And boy does he ever.

~~~~~

“Yn, you really just need to grow a set and tell Harvey he’s being a jackass,” Donna scolds through the phone.

I roll my eyes, “Donna, I told you before. I don’t mind. He’s focused on winning this case, and it quite literally is the life and death of this firm. So, while I appreciate your ‘words of affirmation’, I didn’t ask for them.”

“I know, I just hate to see you so neglected.”

“Oh please,” I pff, flipping my head to move a chunk of hair out of my eye. “Neglected is probably the last thing I am. I can entertain myself. I actually haven’t minded the space. Every once and a while it’s good to go back to the basics. I’ve finally learned how to take care of the plants, I can make a mean lasagna too. I’ve even gotten back into reading. For fun.”

“Sheesh, clearly something is wrong if you’ve been reading voluntarily.”

I snickered. “I don’t know, I saw a book recommendation on instagram and fell in love. Childhood penpals turned strangers, turned back to penpals and she found out he’s the world's biggest rock star and he’s been writing songs about her the entire time.”

“Sounds exactly like the fairytale mushy-gushy shit you love. How you found Harvey to fill those shoes I’ll never understand.”

“He’s just… I don’t know, exactly what I need? My life is perpetually disorganized and he’s too organized. We balance each other out. It just works, and I love our life. I love our dynamic, and I love him. Since he’s so busy, and I have the energy and mental space to, I don’t mind picking up the slack. Again, things will balance themselves back.”

Donna sighed, and I knew that flat line was on her lips. “I know, you’re always so insightful. Optimistic bitch.” I cackled a laugh. “But in all seriousness, Harvey needs you. You’re right, he is too organized. He needs you to unwind him. I know how he is, and he needs a kick in the ass every once in a while. So, if by the end of the week, he doesn’t come around a little, just push him. He’ll fold. Especially for you, and that ass of yours.”

A smile bloomed onto my face, the door of our apartment building coming into view. “Thanks Donna, I’ll let you know how tonight goes. Maybe I’ll stop by the office in the morning and bring the crew some coffee, a few bagels as well.”

“This is why you will always remain my favorite. Now go eat that Chinese food, you sexy son of a bitch.”

“How did you know I had Chinese food?”

“Because I’m Donna.” Then the line went dead.

Psycho. My psycho, but still a psycho.

I did indeed have a takeout bag hooked in my elbow filled with Chinese food. Sesame chicken and wonton soup for me, beef and broccoli with pork lo-mein for Harvey. I got a small order of pork fried rice and some scallion pancakes to share. I was about ten seconds away from crouching in an alley and eating myself into a coma.

The city streets were just beginning to fill up with Friday night festivities. Those heading to lavish dinners or exotic clubs, dressed to the nines with pristine hair and outfits. I looked down at my beat up orthopedic sneakers that kept the never ending foot pain of being a museum tour guide at bay. Here I was, surrounded by the most eccentric and busy place on earth, with absolutely nothing to do.

And that felt amazing.

I scurried up the steps to the apartment building, greeting our doorsman with a smile and a wave. He gave me one back, pulling open the big glass doors. The mild April chill vanished and the comfortable, still air caressed my cheeks. The elevator door chimed open, chimed closed, and ascended to the top.

21… 22… 23… the floors climbed and climbed. What was I going to watch? The new season of Bridgerton was out, I could watch that. No, the next season can’t possibly be as good as Charlottes. Maybe a movie? Didn’t that second Dunne one come out? I’m not sure I understand the first one enough to comprehend the second.

The ding sounds, and I step off, juggling my keys as I rattle off more ideas in my head.

There's always The Big Bang Theory, maybe Two Broke Girls? Nah, I’ve seen those a thousand times. Maybe I should watch something new. No, nothing sounds interesting. I could try to read, but I don’t wanna risk spilling anything on my book. Once in third grade, I was eating a bowl of cereal in the morning, and I spilled the entire thing on my book. If You Give A Mouse A Cookie was never the same again.

When the door opened, I toed off my sneakers, kicking them in the corner. I threw the keys in the bowl and hummed a song aimlessly. In the kitchen, I pried a plate out of the cabinet and began to spoon food onto my plate. I won’t tell Harvey, but I stole some of his lo-mein.

“Yn,” a voice spoke.

I spun so hard I knocked my hip into the kitchen island corner, a scream bubbling out. “Jesus fucking christ Harvey! You could warn me next time, fucking hell.”

My heart thrashed in my chest, my eyes going a little wonky from adrenaline. I swallowed, bending at the waist to catch my breath.

“Sorry, my love,” he smiled, coming to raise me from my hunched over position. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“A simple text would’ve been lovely,” I sighed, rising to my full height. “What the hell are you doing…”

All words died on my tongue as I looked around. The table was decorated with a white cloth, candles skewed about. There were flowers in a vase on the counter, beside it a card with two small boxes. There was champagne chilling in a metal bucket of ice, a box of chocolate covered strawberries and cherries next to it.

“Harvey, what’s all this for? Our anniversary isn’t for two months.”

He grinned, that smirk going right to my chest. “No, it’s not.”

“Then what's all… this?” I waved my hand around, noticing a few balloons blown up and taped to the archway. I somehow completely missed the rose petals lining the floor.

“It’s because I love you,” Harvey grabbed my hips, pressing our fronts together. “You’ve been… dealing with me for weeks now. My absence, my constant mood swings and lashing out. And I know what you’re gonna say-”

“That I know you’ve been stressed and need some time to focus on the case?”

Harvey tilted his head, a flat expression on his lips. “Yes. That.”

“It’s not a big deal, Harvey. I know how important work is to you, and I know that you’ve really needed to focus so the firm doesn’t crumble and-”

“But I need you to know that you are a thousand times more important than work,” he says, placing his palms on my cheeks. He kisses me softly, stealing the air from my lungs. “Then the firm,” another kiss. “And anything that has to do with that hellscape. I love you, Yn. And I don’t know what I would do without your constant flexibility with my chaotic life. So this is a very small token of my appreciation. The first part, at least.”

I hummed against his lips, letting my arms lay across his shoulders. I kiss him deeply. “The first part?”

“Mhmm,” he nodded, hands falling down my back, a less than PG-13 flex of his hands on my ass. “First, I want you to open those little boxes. Then, we’re gonna eat and have some dessert.”

“I feel like there's more to this list,” I smile, making my way back to the counter to get our food. One second to the next, Harvey gripped my arm and pulled me back into his chest. I could feel his desire pressing into me. “Looks like I’m right.”

“You’re always right,” he whispered, breath tickling my ear. He kissed the side of my neck, leaving a little bite below my ear. “Go sit, I’ll get the food.”

A new thrill fueled my body, propelling my steps to the dining room. I sat, playing with the end of the table cloth as Harvey brough everything over. The champagne, the card, the boxes and the food. Before he made his way to his seat, his palm cupped my neck and he tilted my head back. His deep, lust filled eyes locked with mine before he kissed me again.

“Open whichever you’d like, darling,” he sat opposite me, tucking the napkin across his lap.

“Just because I did what anyone would for their love doesn’t mean you need to shower me with gifts, Harvey,” I said, giving him a pointed look.

“And if I bought them just because I wanted to?”

Point taken. I read the card, a picture of a polar bear wearing sunglasses on a beach with a coconut in its hand plastered on the front.

Classy. It made me giggle nonetheless.

To my Yn,

Thank you. I’m sorry. I love you. Thank you for being here, even when I wasn’t. I’m sorry for my absence, I promise I’ll be more conscious of my time spent at the office. I love you, more than I ever thought I’d ever be able to love anything. You are everything I’ve always wanted, and everything I never knew I’d need. After this last month, I didn’t understand just how badly I craved you. Your smile, your laugh, your warmth. The taste of you in the morning, and those adorable snores at night. No matter how many times I do it, I’ll never get tired of kissing you. Never tire of taking your breath away. I’ll never get sick of you being the first thing I see when I wake up, and the last thing before I sleep.

You are forever entwined in my soul, Yn. And I wouldn’t dare to imagine it otherwise.

I love you. <3 Harvey

I looked up at him, tears lining my eyes. He just winked at me, fork scraping his plate as he shoved a mouthful in.

“Fuck you for that,” I sniffled, brushing away the tears as I blinked. “That was so uncalled for, you didn’t need to do that to me. That’s so unfair.”

He smiled, “I know you love that shit. And before you ask, Donna didn’t come near me when I was writing that. It all came from up here.”

I laughed as he touched the side of his head. “Good to know all those years at Harvard Law taught you something other than corporate jargon.”

“Open the boxes, little devil,” he sipped his champagne, nudging the boxes towards me.

Both were a dark blue velvet, unlabeled. They were closed with a silver ribbon. The first one I grabbed was about the size of a book, and something rattled inside. I undid the bow, lifting the lid. Inside was a Kindle. I gasped, pulling it out and looking it over.

“Harvey,” I grinned, mouth falling open. “You did not.”

“But I did,” he smiled brightly. “Unlimited.”

I could jump his bones from across the table. “Have I ever told you how much I love you?”

“Well, after you find out I got you a case, a Pop Socket, and one of those stands with the remote clicker so you don’t even have to hold it, you might love me a little more.” I squealed, pushing out of my chair as I crashed into him. We nearly tipped backwards. Harvey laughed, rubbing my sides as I latched onto him. “I knew you’d appreciate this. I know we haven’t been together much, but I remembered you showed me a video of some girl who had one.” “You remembered that?” A new set of tears choked my voice.

“Of course I did. And I also remember you telling me that if I bought you another set of earrings you’d use them to pierce my ears, so that option went out the window.”

I swatted his chest, Harvey’s smile easy as he eased me off of him. “This is perfect, thank you so much.”

“Of course, my dear. Now open the next one.”

What could be better than a Kindle Unlimited? With a stand AND a remote to turn the pages for me. Harvey has no idea what he’s done, I’ll literally never get out of bed again.

Practically ripping the box in half, I take off the lid and peer inside.

I blink a few times, looking from him to the box. “My passport?”

“Yup.”

“I feel like there is something I’m not getting here.”

“There is.”

“Are you gonna tell me or make me guess?”

“I’m not that mean,” he rolled his eyes.

“I mean you have been ignoring me for the past month,” I feigned being upset, letting out a little yelp when he threw a piece of broccoli at me. “You're literally four years old.”

“We’re going to China.”

Everything stopped moving. I dropped the box, my small, navy blue passport skittering across the floor. My ears buzzed, my fingers buzzed. “I- What?”

Harvey grinned. Fuck, I missed that grin. “We’re going to China. We won the case last night, and I am desperate for some time with you. You’ve always wanted to go, so why not now? I have everything set up. We’re gonna stay in the mountains, we’re gonna go hiking and see some shows. I also know you’ve wanted to-”

“We’re going to China?” I had to make sure I heard him right? I’ve been learning the language for years now, engrossed with their rich culture and history. The cuisine, the art, the music… everything. Had I been in a different timeline, I would’ve moved there.

“Yes, my love. We’re going to China. Two weeks.”

“Two weeks?” My eyes nearly fell out of my skull. “I can’t take two weeks off of-”

“Yn,” he cut me off, knowing I was going to spiral into a never ending list of reasons of 'why this and why that'. “It’s all been taken care of. All you have to do is pack a bag and get you cute ass in my car on Sunday morning. Don’t worry about anything else.”

“But-But Harvey… what the FUCK? WE’RE GOING TO CHINA? Oh my god, I have to call Donna.”

“Can you call Donna tomorrow? I have other things I’d like to do before you go blabbering to her about how amazing and awesome I am for planning this.”

I eyed him suspiciously. “Donna planned this, didn’t she?"

“She did find the panda place. And the art festival. But everything else was my doing. You can applaud now.” Cocky, arrogant son of a bitch. My cocky, arrogant son of a bitch, but one nonetheless.

I looked at him, dumbfounded. He did all this for me, just because he had a crazy workload. I feel like it should be the opposite, me pampering him, congratulating him on his huge win. Not him fueling my book obsession and planning my dream trip.

But it was yet another reason I loved him more and more every day. He just did these things, without prompting. Without need. He felt like he was neglecting me, leading to… all of this.

We ate our dinner, chatting about anything other than the case. I asked about it, twice, and he completely side-stepped my attempt. I wanted to know, but if he didn’t want to talk, I wouldn’t push. I told him the plot of this terrible Mafia romance book I finished earlier in the week, and he listened to every grating, awful point I made about it. All with a dopey smile on his face.

Harvey cleared the plates, setting them in the sink. He brought more champagne, the strawberries and the cherries. In a calm silence, we devoured them, eyes raking over each other. I risked a look below the table, seeing just exactly where he wanted the next phase of the night to go.

“You looking at it makes it worse, you know,” Harvey leaned back in his chair, my legs propped in his lap. He stroked his hand up and down, fingers dipping into one of the holes in my jeans.

“Good,” I smiled, a sinful intent in my eyes.

He looked from my smile to my eyes and back down. With a curse, he threw my legs off his lap and pulled my chair close to his. Harvey enveloped his mouth with mine, the sweet taste of chocolate mixed with the sour berry and tarte champagne. Every flavor on his tongue became my own.

I was in his lap the next second, legs folded against his thighs. Harvey kept me firmly planted. Steady. He wouldn’t dare let me fall. I got lost in him, suddenly aware just how long it had been since I truly had him. Truly tasted him. Truly craved him.

He stood, taking me with him. The familiar route to our bedroom whirled by. I landed on the bed with a soft bounce, tugging on the collar of his shirt until he laid on top of me.

“So demanding,” he whispered on my lips. I wrapped my legs around his hips to emphasize my need. “Fuck… I love it when you get like this.”

“You made me this way, Harvey,” I pleaded, eyes catching him.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been able to give you what you deserve,” Harvey sighs. It’s not heavy, but it’s noticeable. “Let me take care of you, Yn.”

“I just need you to-”

“I know, my love. Let me worship you. Treat you how you deserve. You’ve been so patient with me, now let me return the favor.”

Well, I’d be stupid to deny him.

Delicately, he kissed down my torso, lifting my shirt over my head and throwing it for tomorrow's problem. He removed my socks, then my jeans. From ankle to knee, he kissed and bit my skin, making me squirm against the sheets.

Every nerve ending in my body was on fire, the tips of my fingers and toes pulsing with anticipation. With the last remaining pieces of my clothes gone, he spread my legs, kneeling to the ground.

The sight of Harvey Specter on his knees between my thighs was… empowering. Not that he hasn’t tasted me with his tongue, I’ve just… always been on top. Never so… exposed.

A heady sigh left my lips, body going lax with the first pass of his tongue on me. I clenched my legs against his ears, muffling my whines. He pushed them against the mattress, eyes pinning me as he sank his teeth into the muscle of my thigh.

“You know better than to hide those pretty moans from me, my love.” Yes, I do know better. “Scream my fucking name if you want.”

I just might.

He made quick work of me, practiced movements easily sending me up and up and up. He’d slow back down, torture me with more bruising marks on my thighs while I writhed and begged for him to let me release. I arched up off the bed when he added his fingers.

I was so close, a month's worth of pent up desire threatening me all at once. My mind and body were on fire. I couldn’t hold off any longer. I chase that high, circling my hips against his face. His hands, firmly planted on my inner thighs, I shook, that month long ache finally subsiding before roaring back to life.

When I thought he’d stop, he kept going. Around and around and around his tongue went. Teasing and sending an endless supply of pleasure through my body.

“H-Harvey,” I gasped, my body up in flames over his never ending devotion.

“I’ll stop when I want to. Fuck Yn, you taste so sweet. Almost as sweet as hearing you beg for me to let you cum. Can you take one more?”

Again, I nodded, content to let him spend however long he wanted at my aching core. My second release came much sooner than the first. He didn’t bother teasing me, knowing it would ruin all his hard work if he stopped. With a few more sweeping passes, he licked me clean, sitting back on his heels to look at me. He wiped my cum off on the back of his hand, giving me a wicked grin.

“You are so fucking beautiful, all laid out for me to do as I please,” Harvey said, beginning to strip.

“Please Harvey, have me. Any way that you like.”

He chuckled, kneeling over me. “I will, but like I said, I want tonight to be all about you.”

“Well I want you to fuck me.” I am not very good at being subtle.

“How can I deny you when you ask so nicely,” he purred, closing our lips together, I parted my legs for him, desperate for the friction of his body on mine. His chest, his stomach, his hands lacing with mine. I needed all of him all over me.

It didn’t take long for him to slip inside me, every inch of him stretching me in the most desirable way. I hummed as he stilled, his need clear in the way his arms shook to keep still.

“Move, please please move,” I begged, threading my hand in his hair. With a reluctant drop of his head, he rolled his hips into mine, our bodies finally meeting in full.

“I was trying to be gentle,” he reasoned.

“Fuck gentle, I need you. I’ve missed you so much.”

“I know my love, I know.”

With each thrust into me, a new sensation bubbled inside me. My toes curled, my back bowed, my eyes fluttered shut. He quickened his pace, heavy breaths falling from his lips into mine. His air was mine. Every muttered curse and moan and praise went straight through me. He needed me as much as I needed him.

~~~~~

With my mind not fully awake, I lazily fling myself off my stomach and onto my back. My arm knocked into something hard, and I squinted against the morning sun. Oh, Harvey.

“Sorry,” I mumbled, crashing back down against the pillow.

He chuckled, kissing the hand that accidentally hit him in the face. “It’s okay.”

“Are you going into the office?” I asked, still keeping my eyes closed. Man this bed is so comfy…

“No?” He said, a question in his tone. “Why would I?”

“Why else are you up so early?”

“I was just looking at you, my love. It’s been a while since I’ve just… looked at the love of my life. Taken the time to appreciate just how fucking stunning you are.”

My heart melted, a lovesick feeling welling up in my chest. I turned over, facing the handsome lawyer and grinned ear to ear. “I’m sure I look fabulous after last night.”

“You’ve never looked hotter. Lips swollen from mine, hair a mess from my hands… your body covered in my-”

“Okay,” I snatched his lips between my fingers, silencing his next words. “I did just wake up, at least let me shower before you destroy me again.”

“Only if I can quote on quote destroy you in the shower before I cook you breakfast and fuck you again on the counter.”

My eyes snapped open, meeting his blown out pupils. “You certainly have a vivid imagination for…” I looked over at the clock on the side of the bed. “... eight thirty-seven AM.”

“Wait till you find out I’ve been awake since six. With nothing to do but plot all the ways I could ruin you.”

I rolled my eyes playfully, offering my lips as a peace offering. He quickly accepted, kissing me deeply. “Man, I missed this.”

“More than you could ever know.”

#harvey x reader #harvey specter x reader #harvey specter smut #harvey specter fanfic #harvey specter x you #harvey specter suits #harvey specter fanfiction #harvey specter #smut #writing #my writing

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slimybeth69 · 29 days ago

Text

Girl Dinner

@pedrospookie made the cutest fucking mood board for this fic, she also gave me so much inspiration for this! Let's all thank her for her perfect brain.

Part 1 of 4- Knocked Loose

Rating: explicit

Series Masterlist | Part 2

kidnapped!Joel x isolated&unhinged&potentially crazy!reader (no use of y/n, no physical descriptions besides having hair long enough to hold and fall into your face, the reader is actually crazy, talks to herself- hears little voices in her head. You gotta know this going into it)

thanks to @bonezone44 for this idea.

w/c : 9k (whoops)

Summary: After the civilized world you once knew came to an end-- the men that survived... well they just take, take, take. Growing tired of having things taken from you-- you have a hankerin' to take somethin' for yourself... and make him perfect.

warnings/tags: non-con/dub-con/ altered mental state(?) throughout the entire thing. stockholm syndrome, violence (reader and Joel both get hurt) Joel is an unwilling participant... or is he? cockwarming, unprotected P in V, dirty talk- more to come.

authors note: Hey! I know a lot people get icked out by the idea of non-con or dub con, and that's fine, but I like it, so I'm gonna write this. I don't think any of this should be acted out ITRL. DON'T KIDNAP PEOPLE!! This is your last and final warning just so everyone is aware of what's going on. this is unbeta'd, poorly proofread and probably incoherent. I love you all so, so, so much.

The weather is finally starting to change, it's not as hot as a pigs asshole anymore, and you wake up feeling refreshed, rather than sticky and sour from sleeping in a pool of your own sweat all night long.

The first thought that comes to your head though isn't the changing weather, or how you'll eventually need to break out your warmer clothes soon, nope— you don't give a shit about any of that.

It's just Mister-man that you're thinking about.

He might be the most pretty thing you've ever seen. With his shoulder length, brown and gray curls, and his patchy facial hair that matches so nicely. The thought of how rough and scratchy it would feel against your tongue makes your spine tingle.

Mister-man is a big boy. Hefty, broad, and looked so strong whenever he came into the mall.

You've been watching him for a while. He comes around every three or four days snooping in all the stores for supplies.

It's like he doesn't even know you're here…or if he does, he doesn't care. Rude! You're a pretty girl!

He's just coming to take our stuff, just like the rest of the monster-men out there. If he finds us, he might wanna take-

"Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop!" You put your hands over your ears, even though those voices just get louder when you do that.

Mister-man wouldn't hurt'chya…

Yes, he would. He's a man.

"It's too early for this," You grumble, sitting up in your bed.

The mattress store is nice and clean, just how you left it last night before you crawled into bed. You think about how it would be alarming if it wasn't exactly how you left it before you went to bed. You did your nightly walk-through to make sure everything was where it was supposed to be, and that there weren't any extras hanging about.

As you get dressed, you think about what the dark voice was about to say. You know exactly what Mister-man would try and take from you if he found you. What all the other men in this fucking place want from you.

It's hard to make any of that matter as you skip to your hiding spot in the rafters above the food court. That's where he always enters from, even though the easier entrance with less glass and boards to climb through is on the other side of the mall.

It's a good thing you set up a trap there too, if he comes in through that entrance, at least you'll hear the snare go off and hopefully get to him in time to get his gun and knife.

Mister-man is a creature of habit, he doesn't like to switch things up, Sug. He'll come through this door.

He might. He might not. Mister-man might be playing your game better than you, kid.

"Well then, it's a good thing I thought of everything," you murmur, climbing up the discarded scaffolding to get into the rafters.

It's not scary up here, you like the thrill of knowing if you made one mistake—

Goner!

Splat!

"I've never fallen though!" You giggle, settling in to the perch just above the now blown out glass doors. It's a comfortable little spot, and you've arranged some blankets and pillows from the mattress store up here so you can nap if you want. There are some snacks, and bottles of water in case you have to stay up here for more than just a couple hours, keeping an eye out for Mister-man.

People must have stayed here in the mall during the outbreak, or right after because the doors are boarded up the best they can be, and the tables and chairs from the food court are set up all around like a barricade.

It was perfect, less work for you to have to do, and no one else bothers to come in here anymore— it's either too far, too hard to get too, or not worth the pay out.

Not for our lovely, handsome, soon to be perfect, Mister-man; the reason he comes every week is so sweet.

You wondered why he kept coming back when there really isn't much to scavenge anymore: every single store had been picked through before you got here, and you went and took the last of whatever anyone else didn't want or need and squirreled it away in a nice hiding spot.

Mister-man came every three or four days-- so that he could sit his ass in a comfortable recliner for a couple hours.

Remember that time he took a nap?

"Of course I do! How could I forget?!"

It's the cutest thing, and you love to watch him relax. Rest. Let his guard down for a little while.

"Slept like a lil baby that day," you mumble, feeling the heat spread up your neck and behind your cheeks. It's impossible to not smile at the memory of Mister sleeping in his chair, arms behind his head, snoring loudly.

His hair was real soft...'n he smelled so..

Why does he let us get so close? It's gotta be a trap.

Oh shut up, maybe he wants us to get close!

"I don't think he can hear me too good," you breathe out to the empty mall. The sun is starting to shine directly in your eyes— which means Mister-man will be here soon. "Always lookin' over his left shoulder. He never looks over his right, me thinks he can't hear outta that ear."

Mister has been coming for a couple months. He first started when the snow started to melt. And he kept coming through the spring when everything was wet and soggy, and he'd traipse mud through the mall like this wasn't your house!

That's how you knew he had been there though, so you waited to see if he'd come back-- and he did.

Mister-Man kept coming, even when the summer got so hot it was almost unbearable. Venturing outside was almost dangerous, but Mister always came.

Just to sit in his chair.

The air is filled with the sounds of birds singing, and insects buzzing in the lazy, summer heat. The mornings aren't too bad anymore, but the afternoon is still sweltering.

The late afternoon's are even worse when the heat finally settles, and everything gets sticky, and feeling all wet even though it's not wet outside! It's hot, but the air feels thick and damp somehow.

Awh, looks like he ain't coming today, Sug.

Good-fucking-riddance.

"He'll show up. If not today… tomorrow…or the next day. Or next week! He always comes, sillies. Gettin' me all nervous for nothin—"

Shhhhhh!!!! He's coming.

Mister-man is coming. You can hear him before he even crawls through the hole in one of the boards. He has to slide the table he sets up every time he comes and goes.

Once he's upright, brushing himself clean of any debris that he might have picked up on his crawl into the mall, he starts to walk.

It's not hard to stay quiet, you know exactly where the spots that creak are, and where things might break and fall apart if you were to put too much weight on them.

It's easier to follow him around as he slinks through the abandoned shopping center than you thought, as long as you stay on his right side. You've been watching and learning, and had a long time to figure him out.

Mister is so cute, walking real slow with his back to the wall, his head on a constant swivel. You wanna call out to him and tell him it's just the three of you in the mall.

He continues to sneak very quietly.

Can't hide from us.

"He sure can't," you giggle, almost silently.

Mister-man pauses, and looks over his left shoulder, as if something caught his attention. He looks all around, head twisting in either and all directions. At one point, he looks right up at where you're standing.

It's like he's looking right at you, like he can see you flitting through the rafters right above him.

Mister-man just shakes his head, as if he was hearing things, and continues onward towards the furniture store.

Fuck, he really can't hear for shit.

"He sure can't."

Mister doesn't make it inside the furniture store today, unfortunately for him.

When Joel wakes up, his head is fucking pounding and— he's upside down. Shit.

Not again.

"What the fuck?" Joel croaks, his hands feel like they weigh a thousand pounds as he tries to lift them from where they're dangling over his head. His shoulders hurt, and his back aches. His ankles feel like they're on fire.

There isn't much he can do but hang here, waiting for his vision to un-blur and for the throbbing in his head to go away.

Probably get gutted like a pig.

Finally, after blinking a million times, Joel can see things clearly.

You- a young woman- with a gun in your hand, another strapped to the outside of your thigh, and a fucking machete strapped across your back.

"What the fuck are you doing!?" Joel shouts, his hands now easily flying to the holster—It's empty. The pack he had been carrying on his back is gone too.

Joel watches as you look at him like he should already know what you're doing: a half smile plastered onto your pretty lips, the crinkle at the corners of your eyes, your head tilted to the side ever so slightly, couching in front of his pack.

"Lookin' through your stuff," you croon to him.

Joel's blood boils. What the fuck are you doing? Who the fuck are you? How did you manage to get him all strung up, hanging from the ceiling?

He says nothing as you stay picking through his backpack, taking out every single thing he has in there. His map, compass, the backup flashlight, the gas-mask— which you're putting on?

Why? There weren't any spores in here— were there?

"This thing is fuckin' cool!" Your voice is muffled, and you stand up straight. Then you hold your hands out at your sides, and spin in a circle.

"Hey!" Joel barks at you, flinching away from the revolving barrel of your pistol with each rotation you make. "Stop swinging that thing around, would ya'!?" Joel shouts as you continue to spin.

You stop suddenly, and stare at him through the big, dark lenses of his gas mask. "You know all about swinging around, don'tchya?" You giggle at him.

Joel literally swings back and forth as you say this, very slowly spinning around as he sways, and the throbbing in his head only makes him more angry.

"Cut me the fuck down, keep what'chya want— I don't got time for all this," Joel grumbles, lifting his head so he can look at the rope tied around his ankles. It's a good knot, and without a knife, Joel isn't going to get down on his own, not without his knife.

He reaches behind him to feel for it on his belt—

"Lookin' for this?" Your still muffled voice questions Joel as his fingers brush across the empty space on his waist where his knife would be.

He tips his head almost all the way back, and then to the side so he can see you— and is greeted by the sight of you, still in the gas mask, and now, holding his knife by the blade with your thumb and index finger. All he can do is sigh, close his eyes and wonder how a trip to sit in his favorite recliner led to this.

"Now, I ain't really wanna hurt'chya— I was hopin' you was gunna say knocked out long enough for me to cut'cya down and—"

Joel doesn't wanna hear anymore. "Just cut me the fuck down— people are gon' come lookin' for me if you—"

You apparently don't wanna hear what Joel has to say anymore either, because you start to talk over him. "—we're just gunna go—"

Joel doesn't care, doesn't want to listen to your muffled voice— he wishes you would take his stupid, fucking gas mask off and talk to him like a normal person. He's gotta be able to barter with you somehow. "—don't let me go. If it's food 'n water ya' want, I can get ya' some—"

The two of you are just talking louder, and louder, until the both of you are shouting over the other, neither one of you actually hearing what the other is saying.

"—let me go!"

"—stay forever!"

The two of you stop and stare at each other in silence for a moment. Joel can't really comprehend what you just said, "Stay forever?"

"Yep!" You exclaim happily.

Did he say that aloud?

"You 'n me, together forever, Mister-man," you sigh dreamily at him.

It's not what you say, it's how you say it— like you really believe what you've just said. Like…it was something you had been thinking about, for a while.

"Huh?" Is all he can say, still slowly swaying and spinning. He has to turn his head almost completely around before he whips it to the other side, he wants to keep his eyes on you at all times. You seem un-fucking-predictable.

"Ain't'chya so excited!?" You squeal, and it makes Joel's head ache.

"Gon' fuckin' strangle you once I get down from here," Joel half grumbles, half chuckles under his breath. He crosses his arms over his chest, watching you rummage around for something in his bag.

"That's why I gotta do this," your muffled voice sounds sad as you pull something out and whip it behind your back, hiding it, and that makes Joel nervous.

"Do what?" Joel tries to see what you pulled out of his backpack.

"Gotta close your eyes," you shrug your shoulders, and rock back and forth on the balls of your feet.

Joel blinks at you, just staring at him through the gas mask. He's not completely unsettled by the sight of you in a gas mask, he's seen women wearing them plenty— it's the fact that you have him completely at your mercy and he can barely see your fucking eyes.

He's so fucking stupid for coming out here alone all the time, Tommy and Ellie both warned him- both told him that something would happen to him out here. He'd hurt his back— or worse. And no one would know where to find him- because this was his secret hideaway. A place to escape the responsibilities of being a dad, a grandpa, and a big brother.

Joel loves Ellie, JJ and Tommy more than he ever thought possible— and loves that he got to be around them everyday— it was just starting to be a lot.

If Joel had the means to move that recliner into his house in Jackson, he would have— but it's too big, too heavy and way too fucking far.

Now look at him, upside down!

"Ya' ain't gunna wanna see it comin'." You give Joel a small warning. "Please just close them," you whine, starting to nervously dance on your tip toes.

"No." Joel growls, arms still crossed over his chest.

"'Kay!" You exclaim, running over to Joel. "Warned ya'!" You pull the brick Joel had put in his pack for emergencies.

"Wait! Wait—"

Cripes-all-mighty, Mister-Man is heavy as hell!

It takes everything you have inside of you to drag him to the mattress store. By the time you get there, your shirt is soaked through with sweat, your hair clings to your forehead and the side of your face. Every muscle aches and feels as if it's being torn from the bone it's clinging to.

Huffing and puffing, you drag him through the sea of mattresses until you get to the staircase that leads into the basement office.

"Sorry, Mister-Man," you grunt and push him down the stairs—

He's fine! You lined the stairs, and the bottom where he landed with mattresses a couple days ago-- after you brought his favorite recliner down here. All by yourself. Did it just for Mister-Man, because you want him to be comfortable! You want him to feel nice, and relaxed, and safe here with you.

Once you have him nice and secure to his chair— you wait.

He hit his head pretty hard when you snared him— you didn't think of that part. Then he had to go and wake up! Like a dumb idiot! He could have just stayed asleep, then you wouldn't have had to hit him again!

Thank goodness for that brick he keeps in his backpack, which, what the fuck is that about? It's a good weapon, but it's heavy, and made his backpack harder to carry than you would like to admit.

You were also lugging that giant of a man around, ya' did good, Sugar.

Yeah, ya' did good, kid.

You wrap your arms around yourself and sigh, "Thanks."

You wanna tell the voices in your head that you love them, but you don't really always love them. Sometimes you hate them, and wish they would shut up, and sometimes they don't talk when you need them to— finicky fuckers! And they almost never see eye to eye, and it's exhausting. So you just say thanks.

Mister-man is so pretty up close. Even more pretty than you could have ever thought or dreamed of. He doesn't look like he's shaved or cleaned up his beard in the last couple days, and his hair was combed back away from his face when he got here today— but now it's a mess, matted to his forehead in drying blood, falling into his eyes.

"Shit," you whisper, taking in the sight of him all beat up—

Sug, you gotta clean him up— make him pretty again.

The sweet voice is right!

Mister-man looks so sad all bloody and a mess.

"I'll be right back," you murmur and press a gentle kiss to his forehead through his blood stained hair, and then double check all of the ropes around his wrists and ankles.

He's secure, time to go get him lookin' nice again.

When you come back, your bag is filled to the brim with supplies from the the multiple stores that still have things inside them. You got him a comb, and a spray bottle that you already filled with clean water. You were able to find some clean clothes that look like they'll fit him.

He's also awake.

"Hi, Mist—"

"Let me go."

"—er-man!" You finish through the interruption. "I'm gunna clean you up now, and then we can have dinner. 'Kay?"

Mister-man stares at you.

"Oh!" You rip the gas mask off and place it on his lap. "Sorry, I wasn't trying to steal it. I promise." You cross your heart with one index finger.

"Let. Me. Go."

You wince with each barked word. "I. Don't. Wanna."

"If I ever get outta here, m'gon' fuckin' kill ya'," he growls.

You frown, pinch your eyebrows together and mock his thick, country twang. "M'gon' fuckin' clean ya' up real good, 'n then me 'n ya' can have fuckin' dinner." You growl back at him.

"Shut th'fuck up, untie me—"

"Why!? So you can kill me?" You shake your head at him, giving him a small smirk. "Not gunna happen, Mister."

His eyes go wider than you've ever seen them, as if he might be nervous. "What th'fuck you gon' do to me then, huh?"

"Clean. You. Up. Then. Have. Dinner. Did I say it too fast the first time, or can you really not hear too good?" You cock your head to one side, and look at him quizzically.

"Th'fuck did ya' just ask me?" Joel feels his chest going tight-- this hasn't happened in fucking years. It can't be happening right now.

"I talk real fast sometimes, and I don't realize it, and so sometimes all my words come out real jumbled to--"

"'Bout my hearin'?" Joel's working overtime to suck the air in, to bring precious oxygen to his brain. His head is still pounding, and now he can't fucking breathe, and he can't even imagine what kind of sick, twisted shit you're going to do to him.

Joel watches your eyes drop to the ground by his feet, and it's almost like you pull your body in on itself somehow, retreating into a place where you're trying to hide from him in plain sight. "I been watchin' you when you come in here... just act like you can't hear all that good outta your right ear," you say in a voice so small Joel can barely hear it.

"Watchin' me?" Joel scoffs.

Who the fuck are you? How long have you been watching him? How come he's never seen you before? Never even seen a trace of another person around here, just the stray raccoon or possum.

Joel's blood boils when you nod your head at him, still unable to look him in the eye. "Ya' should be ashamed. Whatever it is ya' wanna do to me is probably fucked--"

"I'm not ashamed," your voice snaps, and finally you lift your head to meet Joel's gaze. "Not even a little."

"Actin' like it," Joel's voice is snappier, and louder, and it makes you flinch.

"Maybe a little embarrassed--"

"Ashamed, fuckin' embarrassed, same fuckin' thing." Joel rolls his eyes at you.

"Not really," you shake your head from side to side and raise both of your eyebrows at him. "Not at all, actually."

"Would you shut th'fuck up?!"

"Would you shut th'fuck up..." You mock Joel. "I'm tryin' to do somethin' nice for you, and you keep telling me to shut the fuck up!"

"Do somethin' nice f'me?!" If this wasn't almost thirty years after the fucking apocalypse happened, Joel would think he was on some hidden camera show.

"Yeah!" You hold out the supplies you had brought back from wherever the fuck you had run off too while Joel was unconscious.

"Doin' somethin' nice would be lettin' me go, sweetheart." Joel switches his tone- does something he wouldn't normally do in a situation like this.

Your eyes light up. They crinkle in the corners a little, like they did the first time he saw you, but you're not upside down this time. The corners of your lips are trying to curl up, but you're actively trying to stop them.

"Don't call me that, 'less you mean it."

With the comb, water bottle and first-aid kit in hand, you take your place behind him and inspect the wound.

It's a surface wound, but dirty from the brick and still very bloody.

It's a painstaking process, because you don't want to be the cause of his pain anymore. Not ever again if you can help it.

Really, that's up to Mister, but he'll find out on his own soon enough! He just has to play nice, be sweet and kind— be the Mister you want him to be, and he'll be perfectly happy here with you. Life here with you in the mall could be perfect! He just needs to be perfect. He's almost there, he just has to keep his mouth shut.

He's not quiet, not at all. He hoots and hollers at you to stop, to let him go, that he's gonna gut you like a fish if he ever gets free from here.

The way he talks, his voice feels like the deepest note on a piano, or the thickest string being plucked on a guitar. It vibrates in the spaces between your ribs, and forces all the air out of your lungs when he talks.

He's taking your breath away... how romantic.

The sweet and airy voice in your head is right, he is taking your breath away. You wish he would stop saying those mean and terrible things to you-- they're making you hurt inside, where your stomach is.

Guilt. You should just kill him right now--

"Hurt him?"

Mister stops shouting, and raises one eyebrow at you.

Look'it those big brown eyes. Like a baby cow. All wet 'n big, kinda scared lookin'.

Ugh, shoot him right between those beautiful brown eyes, kid. You can do it.

He ain't hurt you yet, Sug...

Because she tied him up--

As she should, she's gotta feel him out a little, make sure he's really not gonna hurt her.

How is he ever going to hurt her if he's tied up?

"Okay, enough!" You almost shout-- there they go! Never seeing eye to eye, making things harder than they needed to be!

"I'll yell all I fuckin' want," Joel does holler, loudly. So loud. He's going to draw attention.

"Do I need to get the brick again?"

Joel stops shouting.

He really can't hold back the pained sounds coming from his throat as you attend to his wound.

You're being so, so gentle!

He's acting like a giant baby.

"M'hurtin' you?" You mumble as you drag the damp cloth along his forehead carefully, cleaning the moderately large gash you left there with the brick. It's swollen, and bruised now... you feel so terrible.

He'll forgive you, Sugar.

Mister-man doesn't say anything, he just flinches away from your touch for the millionth time.

"M'sorry, didn't mean t'hurt you this bad." You slowly start to work the comb through his hair, spraying it down with water when you needed to. You're careful to never pull on his hair too hard, and work the tangles out meticulously so you don't bring him any more discomfort.

"Got'chu some medicine." You reach into your pocket and pull out two white pills.

"I ain't takin' nothin' y'give me, fuckin' crazy bitch." He grumbles.

Mister watches you walk around to the front of him, and kneel between his legs.

"S'just regular," you hold your hand up to his face so he can inspect the pill on his own. "Nothin' strong like they had in the QZ's," it's a gentle explanation as he studies the medicine in your palm. "Can find some for ya' if you wanted me to, m'real good at findin' stuff."

"Find it in your heart t'let me outta here," Joel gives you the sweetest, crookedest smile that makes you stomach feel like it grows ten sizes, and your heart feels like it's racing something else inside of you.

There are sweet wrinkles in the corners of his eyes, and the lines on his forehead deepen, and he has the softest dimple on his left cheek.

Sug, he's so pretty.

Kill. Him. Before. He. Kills. You.

"So pretty," you catch your bottom lip between your teeth, and rest one of your elbows on his knee, propping your head up on the heel of your hand. The pills are still right in front of Joel's face, and his eyes flash between them, and your face.

"Not takin' them" he grumbles, twisting his head away from your hand.

"Suit yourself," you put the pills back into your pocket, dipping your head down to press a soft kiss to his knee. "M'gunna go get us dinner, I'll be back."

Joel stares at the tray of food you set down on the table you dragged over to be directly in front of him.

"Where's the protein?" Joel looks up at you from the plate of crackers with peanut butter, a small bowl of raspberries, two packets of expired pretzels you would get on an airplane, and a full bottle of labelless whiskey.

"S'in the peanut butter," you say through a mouthful of your own cracker.

Begrudgingly, Joel opens his mouth when you hold a cracker up to his lips. "Where's the meat?"

The crackers are dry, and kind of stale somehow? The peanut butter is still nice and creamy, just the way Joel remembered it before the outbreak.

"Where would I find meat?"

Joel pinches his brows together and blinks at you. "Ya' live in the woods, got a gun or two-- fuckin' know how to set a snare--"

You gasp softly, and rest one elbow on the table and point at him with a lazy index finger, "You 'spect me to go out there and kill an innocent lil friend? They ain't ever done nothin' t'me. Why would I go out 'n hurt 'em when I ain't got no reason to?"

Joel continues to blink, trying so hard to keep his eyes on you and not the ropes you have him tied down with so tightly they're starting to dig into the skin on his forearms-- painfully.

"Ya' kiddin', right?" He watches as you place a raspberry directly into the peanut butter on the cracker and hold it out for him.

"Issa good combo, try it." You nod your head at him, urging him to open his mouth.

Joel doesn't want to, doesn't want to give you the satisfaction of knowing he needs you, and is going to keep needing you until you decide to kill him, or set him free.

He opens his mouth though, because Joel hasn't had a raspberry in years and he loves them, and the sight of that plump, juicy berry sitting so comfortably in that pillow of delicious, creamy peanut butter is making his stomach rumble. Loudly.

"Want some?" You hold up the bottle of whiskey, screw off the cap and take a swig. "See, it's safe," you look at him through your lashes, and give him a one-corner-of-your-mouth-smile.

Joel nods his head, because what else was there to do if he was going to be a prisoner here? He tried so hard to free himself of the restraints while you were gone, but you know how to tie a knot, and Joel just ended up giving himself rope burn.

An hour later, Joel feels pretty good, but not good enough to forget the situation he's in, but the booze is making you very chatty, and he might actually be enjoying the conversation.

"'N I get power from the solar things up on the roof, I think."

"Ya' think?" Joel smirks at you, he can't help it.

"I dunno how the solar works," you exclaim, holding one hand towards the ceiling. "It's the sun and black screens," you give the ceiling the middle finger and groan. "Barely works when the sun is out-- I just wanna watch my movies--"

"What kinda movies ya' got?"

He wishes he never asked.

You're sitting between his legs on the floor-- reaching behind you to feed him raspberries, never taking your eyes off the screen.

Joel thing's about biting your fingers off, thinks about taking the tips right off with his front teeth.

What would you do if he did that? Joel is still tied up, and he would just have raspberries and bloodied fingertips in his mouth, and then possibly a crazy, unpredictable, angry woman who would try and kill him.

Joel has seen angry people every day for close to thirty years... he knows what they look like, what they sound and act like--- you don't sound or act angry.

"Love this part," you sigh, leaning back into him, and resting your head on his knee.

Joel looks up to the screen, watching Cinderella transform into her beautiful ball gown.

Joel wishes he could reach out and run his fingers through your hair.

No he fucking doesn't? What the actual fuck? What did you put in the food, or the whiskey to make him feel this way?

Joel clenches his hands to fists on the arms of the recliner, and tenses his jaw-- grinding his teeth in the process.

You continue to drink throughout the movie, and when the credits are rolling-- you stumble to your feet, and then into his lap.

"Get off'a me," Joel gripes as you nuzzle your nose against the side of his face.

"Just wanna cuddle," you murmur, curling yourself up into his chest, yawning sleepily. "F'just a lil bit."

"Get off'a me, ya' fuckin' nut!" Joel shouts, and regretfully, tries to headbutt you.

His cheekbone, the side of his nose and part of his forehead connect with the top of your skull in a dull, aching thud.

You scramble off his lap, and fall to the floor, one hand holding the top of your head where Joel had just whacked you. The right side of his face is throbbing, and he thinks his nose might be bleeding, or he's crying- he doesn't know- he doesn't care. He just wants to go home.

"What the fuck!?" You shout back at him. "Mister, I ain't been mean to you at all, minus the brick- okay? What the hell is your problem!?"

Joel can't help but laugh, it starts off as a chuckle, but quickly matures into full on guffawing. "Y'fuckin' insane, ya' know that?" Joel rumbles through his fit.

Through the tears in his eyes, Joel can see you glaring at him.

Okay, he hurt her, can she kill him now?

Sugar, he ain't mean it... not really... he just needs some time to adjust.

He could have really hurt her, are you serious?

He's just nervous! Give the man a break--

Tired of giving men breaks- tired of letting them get away-

"Both of you, knock it off." It's a stern warning to the voice as you glare at Mister.

He stops laughing and blinks at you. "Huh?" He cocks one eyebrow up high, "Both o' ya?"

His question doesn't register, all you can think about is how disappointed you are in him.

"I was gunna let'chya sleep in the big bed with me," you huff, climbing to your feet. "Ain't gonna do that no more."

"I ain't wanna sleep in the big bed with y'crazy fuckin' ass, anyway!" He screams at you.

"What're ya' bein' so fuckin' mean for? I cleaned ya' up, made ya' pretty again-- fed you dinner 'n shared my drink with you!"

Do not cry! What're you doing!? Don't let him see you cry! Get out of here, right now!

The dark voice is right, the burn in your nose and the sting in your eyes are tell tale signs of tears- and you hate them. Hate the way they make your face wet and sticky, hate how they make your heart hurt, hate how your head feels like it's ten pounds heavier when you get done crying.

He'll come around, Sug. Gotta give him some time. If ya' stay nice-- it'll happen sooner than you think.

"I like bein' nice," you murmur, not taking your eyes off Mister.

"Th'fuck are you talkin' about!?" He exclaims, eyes wide, almost obsidian with rage and confusion.

"G'night, Mister. We'll try again t'morow."

Mister doesn't rest, doesn't relax, doesn't settle down at all.

When you open the door to his room, he's still screaming his head off.

"Hey!" You shout back at him, grabbing his attention. "We got raiders 'round here. We got infected movin' in and outta here all the time-- you know how fuckin' loud you are?"

"Hopefully they all hear 'n come runnin'. I'd love to see you get torn to shred-"

"'Kay, m'real sorry ya' feel that way. Even sorrier that I gotta do this."

Mister doesn't stop fighting you the entire time you shove the bandanna into his mouth. He even bites down on your index and middle finger as you stuff the last corner of fabric between his teeth.

Hit him.

It happens so fast, you don't have time to stop yourself from the back of your hand connecting with his cheek.

"Now, you gunna play that game? I can play, too," you inspect your finger and the deep indentation he left that's already starting to bruise.

The duct tape is hard to rip, and you need to use your teeth to cut a strip to go over his mouth.

Mister is mumbling something around the bandanna, but you can't understand him, and honestly are still mad about your fingers-- they hurt! Really bad!

"Glad I still got that medicine... I'm gunna fuckin' need it!" You dig around in your pockets and look for the two white pills. Your fingers throb while you look, the sensitive skin; tender to the touch as it brushes against the fabric inside your pockets.

Mister glares at you with his almost black eyes.

"I'm sorry!" You find the pills, throw them into your mouth and swallow dry. "I'm sorry for hurtin' you. I do not like doin' it, I mean it." You take a couple steps towards him, and drop to your knees between his legs again.

Mister watches, his whole body still as you rest your head on his knee again.

"Just want ya' 'round. M'sorry," you close your eyes, not wanting him to see them fill with those traitorous tears. "Jus' real lonely out here. Miss havin' someone t'talk with...'n snuggle up to at night."

The fuckin' duct tape makes it impossible for Mister to say anything--which is the worst. You wanted someone to talk with, not at.

"I'll take the tape off in the mornin', and we can try again over breakfast, 'kay?"

Mister doesn't make a single sound for the rest of the night.

Joel is drunk again. Fuck, this is never good.

You're in his lap, knees on either side of his thighs with one arm around his neck, your head resting on his shoulder. There is something about the way your fingers twirl around in his hair at the nape of his neck that feels good. Too good.

"C'mon, get off'a me," Joel groans, but there's no passion in his voice. It's been almost three weeks of just this, and he doesn't hate it. Not when he's drunk.

Honestly, he barely dislikes it when he's sober, but he's better at acting like he doesn't want you on his lap when he hasn't had a drink that night.

How can he not like it just a little bit? You're soft, and warm, and fit so perfectly on his lap it's like you were made to be there.

"Couple more minutes, Mister. Please?" You fucking whimper,

The sound floating through Joel's ear canal sends a shiver down his spine, and directly into his cock. It twitches in his jeans. He's got to start thinking about baseball, and carpentry work, and how he's probably going to die soon.

Nothing works. Joel can feel the heat from your cunt through the thin fabric of your shorts, and his hands have been tied down to this chair every time you're not around. The only time you let him up is to use the bathroom-- and you have a gun while you wait for him the entire time, so he's never horny then!

And, as thankful as Joel is for this- you've never even looked at him like that. You look at him like you're in love with him all the time, but you've never once looked at him like you wanna touch him.

Joel tries to push his hips further into the chair, away from the perfect, searing heat of your middle.

"Where'ya goin?" Your voice purrs in his ear, your fingernails ghost across the skin on his neck and he shivers again, his cock feels it tenfold.

You feel it now, too.

"What're ya'--" you pause to look between your bodies, and then your eyes flash up to his. "That f'me?" You're whispering, and your glassy eyes are wide, and look so flattered.

"Ain't for nobody, stop lookin' at 'em," Joel grumbles, again, not really meaning any of it even though he should mean every single word.

"'Em?" you question him with your big, wet eyes and his cock twitches again.

Joel swallows hard, his eyes falling to your bottom lip clutched between your teeth, and nods. "Him, yeah, whatever you wanna call it-- ain't for you." He sighs softly.

"Why not?" you sink down further into his lap. The thin shorts you have on to wear to bed do nothing to keep your warmth contained. It's almost like Joel can feel what it would be like if you just whipped him out and sat-

He's never drinking with you again. Never again.

"Get off'a me," Joel leans forward gently as you lean into him, the tips of your noses touch softly.

"Gunna bite me if I kiss ya'?"

Joel is a goner, your breath smells sweet like raspberries and whiskey and every single thing about you is warm and soft-- Joel knows that if he wasn't fucking drunk he'd be fighting you tooth and nail, but he cannot right now.

He can't think about anything but what you'd feel like wrapped around him, milking him.

"Take'em out," Joel is the one to lean into the kiss, his lips aren't hesitant, or tentative at all when they meet yours. He is going to try and bite you- and he does, he nips at your bottom lip, but gently. He pulls back with it still bitten, and listens to you moan softly.

The quickness of your fingers isn't your friend, you struggle with his belt for what feels like an eternity as you push back against his kiss, eagerly slipping your tongue into Joel's waiting mouth.

Joel groans low in his throat when you wrap your hands around his girth, and then chuckles at your shocked gasp when you pull away to get a good look at him.

"He ain't gon' bite'chya," Joel teases, leaning forward, searching for your lips again.

"Might split me in half," you moan, presumably at the thought of Joel stretching you open.

Joel can't contain his own moan as you put the image in his head. "Fuuck, sit on him-- lemme feel ya'."

The sound that leaves you makes Joel throb in your hand, "Ya' want me t'put 'em inside?" You whisper, the silky smoothness of your hands on him, stroking him so slowly is making his head spin.

"Jeeesus, yes-- fuckin' c'mon- do it," Joel lets his head fall back against the recliner, and watches as you pull your shorts to the side, and lift yourself to hover over him. "C'mon..." Joel eggs you on in a whisper. "Y'can do it, crazy girl."

"Don't call--" you pause when you notch the head of him at your entrance. "--me crazy."

Joel groans loudly as you sink down and let every wet, soft part of you engulf him. He throbs again when you whimper and whine, eyes clenched shut, your hands grasping at his shoulders as you inch your way down his length.

"Ow, ow, ow," you whine, leaning forward to rest your head on Joel's.

He could headbutt the shit out of you right now, but fuck, the way you're looking at him, with real tears in your eyes, not just from drinking.

"Hey, ya' doin' real good, sweetheart, keep goin'-- nice 'n slow," Joel encourages you, because he doesn't want it to stop either. "Jus' like that, crazy girl."

God damn, is crazy pussy always this good? He wouldn't fucking know, he wouldn't ever get involved with you if he knew you back in Jackson- but out here, after almost three weeks with you... it's hard to deny the physical needs of a man. And you're so fucking soft and wet.

The two of you groan in unison when you fully seated. The velvet walls of your pussy are fluttering, and clenching around him as you adjust to his length.

"You're so big," you hum, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his lips. "Didn't think ya'd wanna do this," you whisper into his mouth. "Wasn't gon' take it from ya-- don't like that."

"Take what'chya need from me, whenever ya want it, shit," Joel tries to buck his hips up into yours to give you what you want but you whine in protest.

"Still hurts."

Joel settles his hips and leans into the best he can being tied down, his fingers grip the armrests of the chair tightly, groping it like he would be groping you if he could.

"Untie me," he murmurs while grinding up against you, not pulling out of you at all, just letting you feel him, letting you open up around him so it'll start to feel good.

"No," you nip at his bottom lip now, but you suck it into your mouth and tease him with your tongue as your walls start to rhythmically clench around him.

"Fuck, ya' doin' that on -ur-ose?" Joel groans with his bottom lip still being lapped at, The feeling of your tight, wet sucking him in deeper somehow- like it's fucking bottomless almost makes him come right then.

You pull back, his lip slips from between your with a wet pop "Mhm, ya' like it?" You clench harder around him and then release, and then do that over, and over again.

"Fuckin' untie me, wanna touch you- gotta feel how soft ya' are all over, c'mon," he's begging, he needs to feel the swell of your ass in his palm, or one of your tits spilling between his fingers as he grips you.

"No, you'll just try 'n leave me-"

"No, no, no-- I'll stay 'n... uh.. I'll... um- uh--oh, I'll play nice wit'chya" Joel racks his brain with anything that he could say that would possibly give him a chance at being able to really touch you.

"Lyin' t'me," you moan, and Joel throbs inside of you.

"Not lyin'-"

You pull back from his face at an alarming rate, and you scan his face slowly, as if you were drinking in every feature, savoring the flavor-- Joel watches you swallow hard and imagines that it's his load you just took down--

"Untie me, let me touch ya' a lil bit," Joel whispers, keeping his eyes locked on to yours. "Make ya' feel real good, promise." Joel licks his lips as he watches you struggle internally with the decision. "C'mon... gotta feel how soft ya' are, crazy girl. Just one hand."

"Fine."

You stay seated in his lap, his cock still throbbing inside of you as you work on the knot that will free his right hand. He's trembling in the anticipation of it all.

As soon as the pressure is gone off his wrist, Joel reels his arm back as far as he can, and sends it flying forward with as much force as he can muster after not eating meat for almost an entire month.

You scream as his fist connects with your right eye, and go flying to the floor.

Joel might be completely sober right now, and he knows he needs to move fast before you get up and probably shoot him for lying to you, and then punching you.

Yep. Shoot him. Shoot him right between his perfect, brow, baby-cow eyes. End it.

The dark voice in your head is right, but it's almost impossible to think about anything else but the pain shooting into your brain from your right eye socket.

"You motherfucker," you sob. The pain is electrifying- and you can't even see out of your right eye anymore!

That was your least favorite eye!

Kill. Him.

When you sit up, Joel is working on the knot around his left wrist.

You stumble to your feet, holding your hand over your eye trying to keep the actual ball in, in case it falls out, and walk over to the table with his book bag on it. You rummage around until your fingers wrap around the item you're looking for.

When Joel sees what you're carrying, not even attempting to hide it behind your back, he quickens his efforts on the knot.

Your left hand isn't your dominant one, but your right is busy keeping your eyeball in your head because it most surely got knocked loose or something.

You have to whack Joel twice before he goes unconcious.

"S'what ya' get for almost takin' my eye out!"

While he's still asleep, you take this opportunity to cut the jeans he's wearing off of him. You carefully unbutton the green and red flannel he was wearing and slip that off of him fully intact.

Once he's fully secure, with a new restraint around his chest to keep him fully pinned down to the chair, and the bandanna and tape back around his mouth-- you shut all the lights off, every single one, and leave him down there to think about what he did.

He's gonna learn to play nice, and if he wants to play rough first... so can you.

The air is thick with tension and stench of his sweat and fear.

The big-guy should be kind of scared- you didn't want it to come to this, but he just cannot participate nicely!

You circle your Mister-man slowly, drinking in every detail of him. His broad chest heaves with ragged breaths, muscles taut and straining as he fights against the restraints for the thousandth time.

No matter how hard he struggles, he cannot break free. Oh boy. Mister-man has some big feelings about it, and he's trying to let you know.

He is struggling— like, so fucking hard, against his bonds that tether him to the chair, that are cutting deep into the skin on his wrists. It's unfortunate, but he keeps wriggling around! If he just stopped, it'd all be fine!

You lean in close, pointing to your right eye, which is still black and blue, but thankfully not as swollen anymore, and frown at him. "This hurt!" You exclaim. "It hurt so bad, and you said you were gunna play nice. Why'd ya' lie t'me?"

His eyes are blown wide with fury and desperation. But he cannot respond, not really, his voice is saying things, but it's muffled by the duct tape stretched tight across his mouth.

He's still clad in only boxer shorts, a thin gray t-shirt, and socks, he looks vulnerable and exposed.

It really shouldn't be so hot-- but it is. You can't stop thinking about what he said the other night.

"Take what'cya want from me, sweetheart. Whenever you want it."

You wonder if he really meant that, because he punched you in the face right after.

But... he got excited! He wanted it, Mister-man kissed you first.

Oh Sug, he's down bad.

Please kill him. Shoot him right now, then you can just move to a different part of the mall. It's very simple.

He's really mad; which makes no sense! He punched you right in the eye! What is he mad for!?

"I thought after three weeks you'd be begging me to take you upstairs, Mister," you purr seductively, taking a step behind him, out of his line of sight. "Instead you hit me!?" You give Joel a good thwack against the side of his head with your open hand.

Not enough to really hurt him— that's coming soon— but enough to let him know to cut the shit. It's getting old, and now you want a fun, willing participant to play with you… and not someone who is going to act like they don't like… all this.

The perfect basement office of an old mattress store in an abandoned mall about a two hour hike outside of what used to be Jackson, Wyoming?

There's no spores, there's no mildew or stink! It's clean, you make sure to keep everything so clean for him.

Despite his insessant pestering about meat for some reason, he's well fed! He gets to drink whenever he wants!

Why is he so upset!?

Joel grumbles something from behind the duct tape and it's honestly lost of deaf ears because you don't care for what he has to say right now, it's never nice or sweet. It's always mean— that's why he's got the duct tape on.

Soon.

Soon the big-dumb-idiot will be singing your name, happily, and without restraints.

He's just gotta wear something else first.

You slip the shock collar around his thick neck while you're still behind him.

He doesn't like it, at all. He thrashes and writhes, and makes a desperate, pleading groan from behind deep in his throat.

"Well, you wanna act like all them other dogs out there, you're gon' get treated like one," you press a kiss to the top of his skull, and pull back before he can rear his head forward and smash it against your nose.

He's going to try-- he always does.

Slowly, you wind your way around him, trailing a finger along his sweat-slick forehead and crawl into his lap. He struggles at first, until he sees the remote in your hand.

"Gonna zap all the bad outta you… make you perfect for me." You sigh, wrapping your arms around his neck. "Have an idea...for how you can hug me-- and not hit me."

Joel mumbles something else, muffled through the duct tape. It doesn't really matter what he's saying, all that matters is how warm he is. How he makes you feel so safe and comfortable.

It's easy now, with the threat of being zapped, to rest your forehead against his, and nuzzle the tips of your noses together.

"You gunna be good for me, Mister-man?" It's a purr as you press a kiss to the duct tape covering his mouth. "Or am I gunna have to train you how to be good?"

omg this might be the longest tag list i've ever done let me know if you want me to take you off, add you, if I forgot you-- I'm SORRY!!!

TAG LIST: @pedrospookie @gothcsz @joelmillerisapunk @sp00kymulderr @paleidiot @goodvampykitten @rosebuds-and-moonlight @diabaroxa @zhazy-blog2 @almostempty @xdaddysprincessxx @tobethlehem @lilac-boo @xkyxkyxxlylcylulucuflfluclu @rav3n-pascal22

#kidnapped!joel miller #joel miller x reader #crazy!reader #dead dove fic #smut and violence #a little fluff #joel's dirty fucking mouth #joel miller tlou #Jackson!Joel #pedro pascal characters #pedrostories #eventual smut #eventual angst #fic: girl dinner

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meo-on-prairie · 1 year ago

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Deserve Better

Prompt: After a shitty breakup, involving a douchebag of an ex, who makes you realize he never loved you to begin with. You went to your best friends for comfort, but instead of telling you “you deserve better”, they show you the best you deserve.

Word count: 1786

Tags: FLUFF, a tablespoon of Angst, hurt and comfort, Gojo and Getou being sweetest boys, satosugu established, satorugu x reader not yet, mention of: manipulation and love bombing.

Rambling: This is an extremely self-indulgence fic, heavily inspired by my shitty ex lmao. I just wanna be sandwich between Gojo and Getou to comfort my angry heart :((. This is a mini series, I wanna able to make this series to be compose of a bunch of stand-alone fics that merge together. This is my first time writing after a long while so…

//////

“He was a pathetic liar!” you shout as soon as Suguru opens the door. Tears are streaming down your faces and you can’t seem to make them stop. The sight of your face full of anger and sorrow quite nearly broke Suguru’s heart. Oh, how he wished he could erase your pain. Not make your pain go away, no, he wanted to erase it from your life completely.

Satoru walks toward the door after hearing the loud commotion, “what did he do this time?” he said knowing exactly who was responsible for your tears. With all honesty, Satoru is only asking for your sake, if he could have it his way, violence is always the answer.

Satoru and Suguru are used to this, it’s been 2 years of this clockwork. Ever Since you start dating your pathetic boyfriend, Anthon, it been a cycle of you venting to them about your relationship problem, them telling you to break up with the fucker, and you “work it out” with the douchebag, who can only tell lies and empty promises, the next day and all is good for about 1 month. It’s the same cycle of them clearly seeing that you are being manipulated, yet unable to do anything. But then again, what can they do? They’re only your friends, nothing more even if they want to be more, and as friends, the only thing they can do is be there for you.

Anthon was your first love, your glasses were not tinted, it was dyed rose-pink. You loved him with everything you got, always there to support him mentally, emotionally, and even sometimes financially. In return, he would love-bomb you with constant, nonstop, overly cheesy affectionate words. He also made a lot of promises to you: of marriage, of spoiling you, of being a better man for you, of being faithful to you; all of which are empty and meaningless in hindsight. They’re so meaningless in fact that it led you to break-up with him 2 weeks ago.

You were tired of his empty words, so you laid down your boundary, you told him you would never want to marry someone who refuses to find a job to support themselves. His answer? “Why can’t you be nicer about these things? Your words cut deep”. Anthon was a man of nothing, he had nothing but his words, and even then he couldn't even keep them. But you loved him, so you put it all aside, all his actions, all his shortcomings, his unwillingness to change for himself; you put it all aside and waited with baited breath, surely, surely…. Surely he’ll do as he said. He never did.

“Come in first, the night is cold, I don’t want you to get sick” Suguru ushers you through the door and into their apartment. As Suguru guided you toward their living room, Satoru went into the kitchen to grab some tissues, water, and something for you to eat your feelings away.

As soon as your body touched the soft velvet material of their couch, you crumbled into Suguru’s arms. He pulls you in closer to his body as yours shakes and heaves, you two sit like that for what feels like an eternity as you let the tears that carry your pain and sorrows fall from your eyes. Your hands balls up Suguru’s shirt as you cry in his embrace, you try to control your sob but it only makes your body shakes harder, almost hyperventilating.

“Shhhh, take your time, let it out. I’m here… we’re here… we’re not goin’ anywhere”

“He said he loves me! He said he wanted to marry me! And not even 2 weeks after our breakup, he’s getting his dick wet and telling another girl he loves her!” you choked out in anguish, still in denial that any of this is real.

“How did you find out about that?” Satoru asked, carrying a tray full of food; after hearing your sobs, he decided that a few snacks wasn’t going to cut it.

“Because the fucker doesn’t even have the decency to keep it private, he been posting her all over his social media!” you swipe out your phone in frustration, pulling up Anthon’s account to show your two best friends the picture of your ex and the girl sitting on his lap, kissing.

They both make a face when you show them the picture, “gross” they said in unison as Satoru places the tray on the table and sits down on your other side.

“I’m just so angry, I can’t believe I wasted 2 years loving someone who never was truthful to me! How can I be so stupid?” your tears are boiling hot, they feel like acid on your skin.

“Hey, hey, look at me, you’re not stupid for simply loving someone.” Satoru cups your face with his hands, nudging you to face him, his thumbs gently wiping away your tears. You close your eyes and feel the warmth of his hands. It’s comforting to be held so gently.

“That’s right, don’t shame yourself for being strong enough to love someone with all you got. That’s a strength, not a weakness.” Suguru agrees, pulling a couple of tissues from the box and handing it to you.

You take the tissues from him to wipe away the tears and blow your nose, it was getting a little hard to breathe from crying, “Thank you… It just hurt realizing that even though I loved him, he never loved me; at least, I don’t think someone who loves me would go out of their way to hurt me like this. Him posting her and rubbing it in my face not even 2 weeks later makes me feel like… I just wasn't worth loving…”

“You’re right, someone that loves you wouldn’t hurt you like he did. But that doesn’t mean you’re unlovable. To us, you’re worth all the love this world has to offer…” Suguru whispers, placing his hand on your shoulder, and he means it. God, does he mean it. Satoru can see it in his partner’s eyes, the same feelings he has.

Satoru and Suguru have loved each other deeply since they were kids, but they always feel something is missing in their relationship. When you walt into their life when they were 15 through the door call “physic group project”, they thought something was wrong with them. They still very clearly love each other, their love is still burning, but their hearts forget how to beat when you smile at them.

How can they not fall for you? You’re kind, so kind you would push aside your shyness and discomfort to help those that need it. You’re intelligent, you quite literally carried them through that physics group project. And dear god, the way you just fit perfectly into their dynamic makes them realize very quickly that they desperately want you to be a part of their life. So desperately, they couldn’t bring themselves to tell you about their feelings in fear of scaring you away from them forever.

“Tell you what? Let’s watch some true crime documentary that you like so much since you’re secretly a sociopath, maybe they’ll give you the inspiration of what to do for revenge?” Satoru said with a smirk.

“If inspiration striked you, we’ll be your executioners.” Suguru added, smiling in relief seeing that you're feeling better after letting it all out. You let out a small giggle and nod.

Satoru turns on the TV and searches for “Unsolved” while Suguru goes to grab the three of you a blanket. When Suguru comes back with the blanket, you get comfortable cuddling between the two of them on the couch. Between Satoru’s jokes about how if he was the detective case wouldn’t have gone cold, and Suguru’s soft chuckles of ‘sure babe’ at his boyfriend’s comment,you start to feel a lot better.

You have always felt the most at home with them. It felt natural to be with them, Satoru’s humor brings laughter into your day, Suguru’s gentleness makes you feel safe. They ground you. You’re starting to wonder why you were even with the dirtbag when you have best friends who show you how you should be treated. But before you can think more on that, drowsiness takes over you.

It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep. With how hard you were crying and the emotional turmoil you experienced, it would be more surprising if you stayed awake. Satoru looks over to the sight of your sleeping face. He squeezed Suguru’s hand he been holding behind you on the headrest of the couch.

Suguru looks over at Satoru and notices where his gaze was directed at. “I don’t want to see her like that again. She deserves all the sunshines life has got to offer, not heartbreak” Satoru whispered softly.

“Do… you think⸻” Suguru started

“Yeah.”

It’s a silent agreement between them. They’re done with watching you on the sideline. They’re done with seeing you in pain. They don’t want to be afraid of losing you anymore if it means they have to leave your happiness in the hands of some other dudes that’s not them. In the hands of someone that doesn’t know how to cherish it like they do.

Suguru gives Satoru’s hand 3 long squeezes, I love you. A soft and silent affection flows between them. You always joke that they’re each other's twin flames due to how they seem to be sharing the same soul; their ideology, way of thinking, even how they feel. They’re so similar despite different personalities it’s uncanny. But they think that if they’re each other’s twin flame, then you would be their soulmate.

They let go of each other's hands so Satoru can carry you into their guest’s room. Well, they call it that but the color and decorations they have in it are all catered to your liking, plus no one beside you ever stays the night anyway.

Suguru opens the door to the room for Satoru. They laid you down and tucked you in.

Suguru went into the bathroom to get a damp face towel. He softly wipes away your streaks of tears so you can sleep comfortably without feeling the stickiness from your tears.

They closed the door as quietly as possible so they don’t wake you, not before glancing at you one last time.

Looking at each other, eyes full of love and determination, they silently vow to each other. They’re going to make you fall, sweep you right off your feet. They’ll treat you like you’re their most prized treasure. You’ll fall for them so hard, you’ll forget you’ve ever loved anyone but them.

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tweedlydumbtweedlydoo · 3 months ago

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You're a Dead Man (Part 2) | JJ Maybank x Routledge!reader

Summary: After JJ has a run in with his father, he begins to spiral and doubt his abilities to be a father, leaving you wondering if you're going to be a single mom.

A/N: A couple people requested part 2 and a great anon gave me this idea! Hope you like it. Link for part 1 is down below, but this could probably be read as a stand alone too!

|||| Part 1 ||||

Tag list is at the end. Let me know if you want to be added xx

Go follow my fic rec blog! ---> @imaginationgonewild0912

**MASTERLIST**

Requests: {OPEN} CLOSED

** Rules for Requesting **

** Who I Write For **

********************************************************************************************NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNERS

“What do you know about being a dad? You’re gonna fuck that kid up just like I fucked you up.”

JJ replays the conversation with is dad over and over in his head. The anxiety growing even more intense. His hand shakes as he presses it into his heart.

He didn’t know anything about being a dad. His dad was right with that one. JJ had the bad genes; Alcoholics, drug addicts. The reoccurring jail time. The dead beat dads. It all ran in his family. A never ending vicious cycle that he was going to be continuing.

You recently had your scan, finding out you and JJ would be welcoming a baby boy into the world 20 weeks from now. A mini JJ. After needing to get back to work, both you and JJ split ways and headed back to work.

He was working on a boat motor in the local shop when his boss came to him, “Maybank, you got a visitor.” He threw his thumb over his shoulder.

JJ glanced up, expecting you or one of the pogues but didn’t expect to see his dad there, taking a drag of his cigarette, a subtle sway in his posture.

JJ mentally cursed, not wanting to deal with this.

“Take it out back. I can’t have customers walking up on his bullshit today.” His boss instructs, knowing Luke enough.

JJ wipes his greasy hands on his rag and jumps down from the ladder of the boat, heading toward his dad. “What the hell do you want?” He motions over to the right with his head, walking toward the side of the shop, Luke following with a stumble.

“Jesus Christ.” JJ mutters, smelling the alcohol on his breath.

“Heard you’re gonna be a dad.” Luke says with a slur.

JJ places his hands on his hips and nods, replying with a nonchalant, “yup.”

Luke sniffs, wiping his hand against his nose, “What do you know about being a dad? You’re gonna fuck that kid up just like I fucked you up.”

JJ couldn't believe his ears, “Did you seriously come all the way down here just to say this? I got work to do.” JJ begins to walk away but Luke roughly grabs him by the arm, “I’m not done talking to you, boy! Don’t you walk away from me.”

“You know it’s true. Do the kid a favor and stay away from him. We don’t need another fucked up Maybank in the world. Look at you, working at the local boat shop. You’ll never make it at anything else. You’ll never be able to give the kid a good life. Face it," Luke takes a step toward JJ, pointing an accusing finger in his face, "you’ll end up just like me, drunk trying to make it by in life wondering where it all went to shit.”

JJ rips his arm from Luke’s tight grasp, a red mark left behind, “you have no idea of what kind of dad I’ll be. As far as I’m concerned I know exactly what kind of dad not to be.” He starts to walk away, Luke continuing to slur and insult him.

“JJ you’re going to be a shit of a father! Don't say I didn't warn you. You'll be a sorry son of a bitch bringing a kid into this world!"

JJ's thoughts were running rampant. His mind slowly convincing itself his dad was right. He would never be a good father. He didn't know how to be a father. You and the baby deserved better than what he could offer you.

The old rock music thumping in his ears as he opened the wooden door. It smelled like cigarette smoke. The place started to get full as everyone begins to get off work.

"What can I get you?" The barkeep asks, cleaning the bar top in front of him.

JJ has his chance to back out of this. He glances down at his watch, you'd probably just be getting off of work and heading home. You told him at the doctor's appointment you would fix his favorite tonight. It was you and JJ's turn to fix dinner for the Pogues.

He knew he needed to leave and go home but his mind pushed his legs forward, taking a seat at the bar. He knew addiction ran in his family and this was bound to happen to him. His dad was right. Might as well speed things along.

"Whisky."

As you came close to finishing dinner, you glanced at your phone again, nothing from JJ. He should have been home by now. You'd called and texted but no response, you began to worry.

"Hey sis," John B greeted coming through the front door, Sarah following behind.

"How did your appointment go?" Sarah asks with a smile, pushing past John B to greet you. She was just as excited as you to find out the gender. Sarah had a bet with Kie - it was gonna be a girl. She just knew it and even placed a bet on it. She immediately frowns at your worried appearance, "What's wrong?"

"JJ should be home by now and I can't get in touch with him."

"Maybe he got stuck working late? I know he said he had to finish building that motor and wanted to get it done today." John B shrugs it off, popping one of the veggie pieces in his mouth, "I wouldn't worry too much about it."

"Yeah but," you shake your head, "He usually would at least send me a text to let me know. He knew I was cooking his favorite tonight and he said he wouldn't miss it. Somethings wrong, I can feel it." You place a hand on your growing bump, a sense of uneasiness flooding over you.

"Have you tried calling him?" Sarah asks, leaning against the counter with her arms crossed, "Like John B said maybe he's busy."

"I've called and texted." You look between your brother and Sarah, "Something's wrong, John B."

He sighs with a nod. He didn't need to hear anything else from you, he can see it was truly bothering you. "I'll find him."

"Thank you." You say softly.

He nods and kisses your head, "Anything for you."

JJ couldn't remember which drink he was on. 8? maybe 9? He was slurring his words, swaying. He'd become the center of attention at the bar, talking with a few people, laughing it up. He could feel his phone buzz and checked it, blinking his eyes to try and focus. The thinks it says John B but he can't be for sure.

One of the guys he'd been talking to slapped him on the shoulder, pulling him from his thoughts, he slid the phone back in his pocket.

"Another drink," JJ slaps the bar top.

"You sure? I think you've had enough," The bartender states.

"Oh come on, man, give him what he wants!" One of the guys says, "The fun is just getting started."

JJ saw the little baggie and the guys crazy eyes. JJ raised his eyebrows, "I don't know man." Even in his drunken state, you flash across his mind.

The guy places a hand on JJ's shoulder, "Live a little. You deserve it." And so JJ follows the guy and a few buddies out back.

John B went by his work to find the shop closed and moved on to a couple places to check. It was the 4th place, Blackbeards Bar, that he finally had someone say they saw JJ, but when he went to check out behind the bar, JJ and those guys were no where to be found. John B filled with dread.

He drove the Twinkie through town, looking left and right for any sign of JJ but didn't see him. He reluctantly returned back to the chateau where you and Sarah sat around the table. He dreaded having to return without JJ and explain where he was last seen. The bar was known to be occupied by the drunks and druggies. Luke was a frequent customer.

He could tell you'd been crying. You stood when he opened the door, "Did you find him?"

John B shook his head and saw your hopes get crushed, your body physically showing the signs. Your shoulders dropped, "he has to be out there somewhere, John B. Maybe you didn't look hard enough-" You snatched your keys off the table, storming past him, but he steps in front of you, "I looked everywhere. Y/n he was last seen at Blackbeards."

"he wouldn't-" you shook your head, "It had to be a mistake."

"He was seen with Luke's crowd, y/n."

And your world came crushing down.

JJ didn't know how he'd done it and made it all the way to the chateau but he did. He stumbled up the front stairs. The lights, indoor and out were on. He hoped he hadn't missed dinner. You'd cooked his favorite and he was starving. He belched as he kicked his shoes off, stumbling into the nearby shelf, something came crashing down. He giggled to himself, "Oh fuck."

The door swung open, there you stood in your gown and robe. He closed one eye, squinting to focus in on you and gives you a drunk grin, "there's my baby."

He's taken aback as you lunge at him, hands hitting his chest. it sends him flying back into the porch post. You probably could have just done it with your finger and knocked him over at how drunk and high he was.

"What the fuck?!" He manages to catch himself, "What the fuck was that for?!"

"You stupid son of a bitch! Do you know how worried I've been? It's 4 o clock in the morning! I was about to call the police!"

John B and the other Pogues stood at the door, watching this scene unfold. They committed to staying up with you, hoping to keep you company and keep you calm. You were only a few minutes from having another breakdown.

"Oh shit," JJ laughs, "It's 4 am? Time flies when you're having fun then." He straightens himself up, but stays with his back pressed against the post to keep himself from swaying. It didn't stop the room from spinning.

You didn't know whether to cry or scream. You were beyond angry; heartbroken that JJ had put you through something like this. Pregnancy hormones only made it worse. It was only in the light, you could see the white powder on his nostrils.

"Is that coke?" You ask in disbelief, pointing to his nose.

He quickly wipes it away with his sleeve, "no-"

You cry out, absolutely frustrated, "JJ, what the fuck is wrong with you! This isn't you. You're out late, drinking and now doing drugs with some of your dad's buddies? We're going to have a baby in 4 months. You can't do shit like this. You can't spiral. You have responsibilities!"

JJ could feel his anger boiling, threatening to blow. His entire body going hot, his face growing red, as he points an accusing finger in your face, "You don't get to tell me what to do."

You'd seen JJ get angry before, but had never had it directed at you. You couldn't believe you were about to say this, but he looked like Luke staring back. You could feel John B's presence beside you, ready to defend his sister. He didn't like the crazy look in JJ's eyes or how he threatened you.

You straighten your back, showing JJ you weren't afraid of him. You were pissed he'd done something like this, but when you thought more about it, there had to have been something that set JJ off. He was so happy at the appointment. Nervous, but excited to find out he was having a boy. He even made the comment, "My son will never feel the way I did."

From the time you departed to back to work, something had changed and the only thing that could have set JJ off would be his dad. You knew his anger wasn't meant for you.

JJ surrenders, "Go ahead, yell at me. Tell me how horrible of a dad I'm gonna be. How I'm gonna fuck that kid up just like I'm fucked up." He holds his arms out at his side, "The kid doesn't need me. If anything he's better off without me. You're better off without me." His eyes fill with tears, "I don't deserve this. I don't deserve a happy ending." JJ is defeated and emotional.

Your heart aches at the fact JJ would ever think that way about himself. He'd already proven to be a better dad than Luke would ever be and your son wasn't even in this world yet. "Is that what Luke told you? That you're going to be a horrible dad?"

JJ wouldn't meet your eyes. You step forward, hands cupping his jawline, willing him to look at you, "JJ Maybank, you've already proven you will be an amazing dad and our baby isn't even earth side yet. Me and him both will never be better without you because you complete us, you make this family whole." Tears fill in your eyes, seeing his doing the same, "You never felt a father's love and that has been your encouragement from the beginning. You know exactly how to be a father because you have first hand of what not to do. You've stepped up and become more than a father than your own will ever be."

JJ relinquishes into you, sobs racked his body as he held onto you as if you were his lifeline.

"shhh..." You ran your fingers through his hair in a calming manner, holding him. You stayed like that for a while, holding each other before you were able to lead him into the house where he passes out on the couch.

JJ sulks onto the front porch, his head pounding and body feeling like he was hit by a bus. You're leaned against railing, gazing out to the water. It was a calm morning.

"Morning," His voice is husky and he smells clean as he approaches you.

You glance at him, his hair is wet and he's in clean clothes. At least he showered. He reeked last night. "Morning."

"about last night-" He scratches the back of his neck. It had come back to him in pieces but he knew enough to know what happened last night - or well this morning.

"I'm only going to say this once." You're stern as you face him, "If you ever pull the shit you did last night, you won't have anyone to come home to. I'm here for you JJ, always. And you can't spiral like that ever again." You rub a hand over your bump, "Are we in an understanding?"

He nods, "I can't even begin to apologize or have the words. I should have come home to you two." He places an uneasy hand on your belly, "I'm not him. I never will be."

"I know you aren't." You loop your arms around his middle, laying your head against his chest, "You're more than he will ever be."

I hope you all enjoyed this part two and I hope I did it justice for those who asked for it! I feel like I'm still a little rusty as I get back into writing here and there, so please be nice and be patient.

Likes, comments and reblogs are always greatly appreciated!

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monimccoythings · 5 months ago

Text

Mending each other's hearts II

Jesus, this took forever. I'm having so much fun writing this, for real. However I think I'll have to do a third part because GOSH do I love angstiness and suffering. One thing I also love is Jean being a wingman and such a cool friend I want to work more with that.

tw: logan is a caveman and a brute, and possibly emotionally constipated, really; a bit angsty.

I have no idea about clubs, I just googled New York clubs and picked the coolest looking.

tags: @kathieycarrerarosshley (I'm not sure if there's anybody else, sorry, I don't usually check the notes :()

Part I │ Part II (You're here!!)

He basically jumped down the stairs, nearly crashing into several innocent students. Like Hell he was going to allow you to do that to yourself. You were not some cheap whore who did one-night-stands. You were so sweet, so innocent, that the thought of having anyone touch you inappropriately, rubbing themselves against your body, tainting you with their dirty hands made his stomach churn and his claws start to come out.

Despite running as if the literal Devil was chasing him, all his efforts were for nothing, because when he barged through the front doors of the mansion he could already hear the gears of your car speeding up, miles away. Fuck, he was too late; but maybe, if he traced your scent, if he went now to his motorbike he may be able to catch you and stop this madness. As he turned around, he narrowly avoided his keys being psychically thrown towards him. Jean looked at him with a determined look on her face.

“Lavo, go. NOW.” Her voice commanded no objection, and for once, he would happily obey orders.

He usually was very careful with his motorbike, an old lady deserved to be treated with respect, but not tonight, there was not a second to lose. Muttering a quiet apology to his dear ride, he sped off towards the city, silently praying to a god he didn’t believe in that you hadn’t done anything you would regret later.

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You felt a sense of excitement settle in your lower belly. Look at you, a grown adult, dressing up all cute and going on your own adventures in the Big Apple, you felt like you were going to squeal like a little girl, either that or you needed to stop the car and puke.

You knew exactly where to go, where the good stuff would be; under normal conditions you wouldn’t be allowed in, so that’s why you were planning to use your powers to sneak in. Maybe you were just some plain teacher at a private school for mutants but that didn’t mean you didn’t have tricks up your sleeve.

A sudden memory of the real reason this was all about, made your heart twist with ache and longing. The memory of Logan and Jean in that empty classroom would be forever engraved inside your mind, a confirmation that no matter what you did, you would never be enough. No. You mentally slapped yourself. You couldn’t keep torturing yourself like that. The only thing invisible about you were your powers. Tonight, you were going to feel beautiful, appreciated, and most importantly, desired. A pang of anxiety hitted you, what if nobody notices? The real possibility of being made into a fool once again was scary and nearly made you turn away and return home with your tail between your legs. They will. Maybe it was that part of you that had been kicked long enough talking, you would never know, but it gave you enough confidence to keep going.

You made sure to park your car as far as you could, you didn’t want anything to associate you with that little stunt you were about to pull. You casually walked into a nearby alleyway to turn yourself invisible, the last thing this night needed was a public scandal.

There was truly something magical about walking down the street while you were invisible, it made you feel confident and powerful. Nobody could harm you if they didn’t know you were there. You watched couples pass by pampering each other, a group of drunk college freshmans trying their best to walk in a straight line, you could observe every single detail on them without feeling like a creep. Sometimes you wondered why you didn't have your mutation on at all times. It certainly would make your life easier.

Before you knew it, you had already arrived at your destination. Taking advantage of some rich boy skipping line, you glued yourself to his back and entered, making a little squeal that startled the poor security guard.

The place took your breath away.

Lavo was one of the most exclusive clubs in all of Manhattan. One night there (paying the entrance and restaurant, of course) would probably cost you half your salary. You knew Charles could afford it, but you weren’t going to ask him to bill the start of your party girl era.

A sudden realization left you filled with embarrassment; you had entered, now what. In a desperate way to fit in, you decided that the most suitable course of action would be to look for a place to turn visible again and go for a drink.

────────────────────────────────────────────

Logan lost count of how many traffic laws he broke that night, he didn’t really care. All he wanted was to reach you. Each time he imagined a worse scenario that somehow always ended with you in the arms of another man, enjoying his caresses and kisses. He panicked, making his grip on the handlebar painfully tighten. He didn’t know why he was feeling like that, and he also didn’t know what he would do if he found you with a suitor.

He wasn’t impressed at all by the imposing building, and he was less impressed by the regulars. Bunch of spoiled rich brats, if someone asks him.

The security guard wasn’t in the mood to let him in and less while looking like that, but since he didn’t have time nor the patience to deal with any form of bullshit, he opted to launch him across the street with a single punch instead of pulling out his claws, leaving the crowd completely silent.

The inside was as bad as the outside, or even worse. He didn’t like that place at all, too many people, too much noise and too many smells. It overwhelmed him. How the fuck was he supposed to find you there. He showed his way among the crowd, ignoring the grunts and complaints from the people surrounding him, fuck them all. His heightened senses were practically screaming at him to go wild and ravage the place until he got you.

His hunting instincts told him to look for some dark corner where he could keep a close watch on the entire club, it’d be easier, and quieter for him. He could do without all that modern music drilling his ears. Some goddamned peace and tranquility would help him focus.

He didn’t need to wait for long until his eyes settled on you. On the dancefloor, with a glass in your hand, and a man glued to your back with his lips dangerously close to your neck.

Logan saw red.

────────────────────────────────────────────

As you took a sip of your grasshopper, you wondered why you had been worried in the first place. Just one look at how that dress hugged your ass and you had several men eating from your palm. You had to confess that even if it flattered you, it was a bit suffocating having that much attention all of a sudden.

The man you had picked for the night, Kelsey? Kevin?, you hadn't heard it well with the lous music, was actually kinda nice. Out of all of the men that surrounded you he had been the only one to actually try to start some friendly conversation before hitting on you. That sweet attempt just earned him some brownie points. That and that body which seemed to have been sculpted by the gods. Damn, what did they feed him?. His hands moved closely to your hips, and you couldn’t help but wish those arms that held you were bigger, and hairier. You shook your head. Focus on the Adonis right behind you. The one who was going to make you feel so good tonight. You could already imagine it.

But fantasies were just that. Fantasies.

An altercation snapped you out of your daydream. Someone was pushing his way quite violently towards the dancefloor, and by the sound of those screams of protest he wasn’t being very gentle.

The blood froze in your veins when you saw who was approaching. No. How. Why. Millions of questions ran through your mind, your body screaming at you to run, but you were paralyzed with fear.

You had never seen that look on Logan.

Feral.

Wild.

Monster.

You had heard people describe him with those words since the very first day you had met him. Coming from both humans and mutants. You had never paid them any attention, being so confident in knowing that despite his gruff exterior, inside there was hidden a golden heart just as big as his muscles. But now you were considering that despite knowing that, maybe the others had some point in their arguments.

You would be lying if you said it didn’t turn you on a little.

He was getting closer. Unconsciously, you put yourself in front of your dancing partner, despite knowing that whatever little mutant trick you had was useless against The Wolverine’s blind fury. Yet, you weren’t going to let some innocent civilian get hurt because your friend was pissed at you for whatever stupid reason.

His eyes were unfocused, darting from one person to the other like a wild animal. You weren’t sure if he was able to see you at all.

“Logan. What are you doing here?” You tried to keep your voice steady, knowing that when he got like this, anything could really set him off and then all Hell would break loose. He grunted and finally looked at you. Pupils dilating when he got a better look of you in that dress.

“Home. Now.” Among all the noise it was hard to understand him, but whatever he’d said you were sure it wouldn’t benefit you in the slightest. It didn't help that those words resembled more growls than actual speech.

Your new friend, supposedly Kevin, tried to step forward, foolishly thinking he had a chance against one of the most vicious mutants to ever exist. Logan looked at him with barely restrained rage, breathing heavily. His stance, along with the strength the air came out of his nostrils reminded you of a bull ready to attack. You started fearing the worst.

Within a blink, Logan had grabbed your arm and was forcefully dragging you towards the emergency exit. You slammed your heels against the floor, trying to keep you grounded in your spot, but that only seemed to make him angrier. Quickly reaching down, he scooped you up and carried you over his broad shoulder, making you drop your drink and leaving you mortified to the point of nearly accidentally outing yourself as a mutant in a room full of people.

After what felt like the longest time of your lfe, you two made it outside that place and after several kicks and threats, he finally put you down in an alleyway where all the shame that filled you, all the embarrassment, turned into rage.

Why.

Why couldn't he let you have this?

Why wouldn’t he allow you to move on?

Why did he have to keep breaking your heart over and over again? Hadn’t you suffered enough?

You screamed at him, you pushed him and insulted him until your voice became hoarse. The force of your screams were drowned by the sound of an incoming storm. And he just stood there, taking it all in stride, just looking at you, like a marble statue. A less wise person would have thought he was bored, just waiting for you to scream your heart out and finish your tantrum. But his eyes, oh his gorgeous eyes that always made you melt, were filled with emotion. Could be guilt, could be pain, could be grief, they were passing far too quickly for you to notice.

Yet he still didn’t say anything which only fueled your anger. The nerve of him, the fucking audacity. You felt mocked, humiliated, the laughingstock of Xavier’s School; a silly woman in her early thirties with a pathetic little girl crush on a man who wouldn’t give her the time of the day.

You slapped him as hard as you could.

Probably not the smartest thing given his bones were made of the toughest metal to ever exist which you instantly felt when your hand made contact with his cheek. You bit your lip, trying to swallow down the agonizing scream of pain that was crawling up your throat to get out.

That made him react, his expression changing into one of concern. He tried to say something, move closer to you and check your hand, but you stepped back, your back pressed against the brick wall.

Holding your injured hand with your other, you lowered your head. Rain started pouring on you both, drenching your carefully groomed hair and wiping all that expensive makeup away. But at least it would hide the tears that fell freely though your cheeks.

What a mess you were, drenched like a wet cat, with your makeup ruined and sobbing while the man of your dreams just watched you with pity. You should leave and lock yourself in your room. Turning invisible again, you tried to make your exit towards your car, knowing it would be a long walk full of cries and sobs, but his arm blocked you, damn that sharp sense of smell. you turned around and his other arm blocked you again, effectively trapping you between himself and the wall.

Suddenly you found yourself very tired, of his games, of being screwed over and over again, of your emotional burst. You just wanted to go home, take a bath, and sleep. You couldn’t do this anymore.

“Please. I want to go home.” There must have been something in your voice so broken that caused him to immediately take action. Logan suddenly had the decency to look a bit ashamed of himself, after that stunt he pulled off at the club, however you couldn’t care less right now. Muttering a quick ‘yeah’ he slowly pulled away from you, and awkwardly stepped back.

Not being used to walking on heels, you would have fell face first against the ground, putting the icing on the cake of that terrible night, had not a pair of strong arms caught you and lifted you into a bridal carry.

Not so long ago, you would have been all over the moon at this gesture. Logan Howlett, the hunk of the X-Mansion, carrying you like a princess. Yeah, the old you would have loved that.

Right now you were feeling too emotionally numb to care. Even when his arms pulled you closer to his chest, even when he softly pressed his lips against the crown of your head.

You just couldn’t feel anything.

#wolverine x reader #logan x reader #james logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #x men x reader #x men

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icarusredwings · 6 months ago

Text

Scent. 2/2

Didn't know I had to tag for fourth wall breaks, but here it is! Logan has cuteness aggression. SFW, pg-13, Primal scenting, established poolverine, countryside comedy, angst, and fluff. Wade gets smothered in front of the fireplace by a big domestic wolverine because of his self-confidence issues. Mental health issues.

Post Save a horse/Ride a wolverine

Requested by @asaturnerofficial

“It has nothing to do with the makeup.”

“Then why do you keep taking it off?!”

“Because you don't need it! And it stinks like high heaven, that crap can not be good for your skin.”

“My skins already fucked, James, just leave me alone.”

Still trying to cover his face, Wade whined, frustrated with him and himself for being the way he was. No, it wasn't his fault, but he still felt like shit. His head wasn't nice to him, Logan knew that feeling all too well.

It didn't take long for him to learn when enough was enough, either. They didn't exactly have a safe word rather than a scent, and a tone he knew meant too much. To back off. And as much as he didn't want to, he did, climbing off of him as he sat, his chin in his hand.

“So what? You're just going to do this every day for the rest of your life?” He grumbled, also frustrated that Wade's brain was mean to him, and didn't let him see all the beauty that he had. It took him a long time to learn that what other people thought of him didn't matter as long as the ones that cared about him did just that. Cared.

Letting out a high-pitched groan, He rolled over, covering his head with his hat, grumbling something under his breath.

“...This is because of what that guy said earlier, isn't it?” he muttered, now crossing his arms.

“No-” he lied. And Logan knew it was a lie. He could smell it.

That was the only thing about being with him that made his partners leave, they couldn't slip anything past him and his need to resolve issues (or just straight up leave) made it even more difficult. But he already promised that he wouldn't leave Wade. Not without telling him first, at least.

“You're a terrible liar. You know that?”

“So are you...”

Not in the sense that he couldn't go pick up milk without him freaking out, but if he was gone for more than a couple of days, he'd get a call. And vise versa. Some things they couldn't tell each other for safety reasons.

‘Where have you been?? You reek of sewer’

‘Job.’ Followed by the zipper mouth motion that meant ‘Don't ask details’

‘Aahh.. get it done?’

‘Always do!’

‘Hard?’

‘Nah, panic room.’

‘Uggh panic rooms.’

‘I know, right?’

‘Soooo…’ He'd gesture to him with a finger, questioning about the smell.

‘You don't wanna know. In fact, I don't even wanna know!’

‘Bar?’

‘Shower first.’

‘Taco place?’

‘Taco place.’

Oh, he remembered that day. He ordered tacos from that place Wade liked, and after his shower, they ended up on the couch for a while, then went out for the night. It was like that, and honestly, he had no issues with it. He enjoyed being able to just… BE.. with him. They could just be themselves.

But now Mr. Merc with a mouth, was taking a break from the mercenary stuff. He's been out of his suit more and more. And covering more and more. But why now? Since when did he cover himself up with this junk? He knew Wade did ‘Touch ups with the makeup team’ or whatever he said, but this was just too much.

Part of him felt like he was losing it too because he wanted to march up to that ‘make up artist’ and slash them in the face for making him feel like his entire face needed to be hidden. Though he couldn't, obviously, because that person didn't exist in the material world rather than being a figment of his boyfriends imagination.

“...What gets ratings?” He asks, glancing at him, having an idea.

“What do you mean?” Barely a whimper.

“Well… ratings are good, right? So.. what do they like?” God, he couldn't believe he was going along with this. He hoped it wouldn't make it worse.

“Good writing, amazing actors, a good thrill… I guess.. why?”

Climbing back over him, Logan hovered him with a soft, almost hopeful smirk. “Does this get ratings?” He asked, gently kissing his head, beginning to rub their cheeks together affectionately. “That do anything?”

Looking at him, His face already heated up, giving him that look that never got old. The ‘Holy shit did you just do that?�� Glance with wide eyes and a goofy grin. “I-it's not that simple. I mean, you got the tech crew, The Sound Team, the-”

This kiss was slower, humming into it as he took his hand, holding it intertwined with his own fingers, putting it up above his head. Turning his head a little, He nipped at his tongue, chuckling as he pulled away.

“What about now?”

“I-i…” And that folks is how you shut up your Deadpool. Manual restarts can do the system some good once in a while.

“What? Cat got your tongue, Princess?”

Getting that stare of utter bafflement, he took that as a yes. “Now hold still for me.”

Quickly, he nods, putting his other arm up too, clearly excited assuming this was going somewhere else, but in reality-

Leaning down, He began to kiss every little spot on his face, every patch getting it’s own special attention. Instantly, Wade blushed harder, letting out a sound that reminded him of a squeaky toy, trying to push him away.

“Eeh!! No! I'm still mad at you! You can't kiss your way out of this!” he giggled, but Logan knew he didn't want him to stop and he was starting to smell better already.

Rubbing his scratchy beard against him, he began to let out a little growl. This happens sometimes. He would get too overwhelmed with his emotions and would become angry, snarling at him with their noses touching.

Beginning to laugh, He tried to push his head to the side, knowing he would bite him if he didn't get away soon. “No!! Logan, don't eat me!” He now turned his head elsewhere. “The original line was ‘Please Mr wolverine, devour me in cold hard blood.’ But it didn't test well with younger viewers.”

“Why the hell are younger people watching this to begin with? Go do your homework or Something, ya little brats!”

“GGASSPP Wolvie, stop it! They already did all their homework!... at least they were supposed to..”

“Oh yeah? All of them? Even that one!?” He points directly at you. Yeah, you. You know who you are. “If I find out that you're skipping out on your homework to watch some show that's too old for you, why Im gonna-”

Tapping his shoulder, Logan looked down again at the man trapped underneath him.

“Is that what that feels like? Being ignored? Because if I remember correctly in this scene, I'm supposed to be the one getting attention, yeah?”

“Attention? Sorry, Bub, we're all outta that.” He teased, smirking, happy that his scent was starting to be smothered in him instead of that lousy foundation.

“Actually I believe I had some on back order? I called ahead, you see.” He says, putting his finger up in a matter of fact manner.

“What, like a reservation?”

“Exactly. Now, if you don't mind-” He turns.

“And if You don't mind. I'm the star of this show and I say… Action!”

And that was his cue, Chomping the finger clean off. With a shout and a complaint of ‘That was my good hand!’ a smaller baby finger began to grow back.

“Jesus, peanut, I know you're hungry, but that's why I came in here in the first place! I was gonna ask what you want for dinner. The next thing I know, i'm being assaulted!”

“Oh please. You aren't being assaulted… yet.”

“Yet!? Woah woah woah, Logie, this story is pg-13! We already used up all of our *Beeps* So careful! The studio is gonna be pissed!”

“... did you just bleep yourself?”

“No.”

“Yes you fu-”

“Beeep!”

Staring for a moment, Logan blinked. Alright. That settled it. He was off his rocker. All the screws in his head completely gone, not even loose at this point, just straight up missing.

“...Fu-”

“BEEP!!”

“Yeah, I'm gonna show you beep. Beep this.”

Holding his face still, he decided there was only one way to calm down. And it was a last resort. “You know what I want for dinner, Wade?”

“No. That's why I came to ask.” Oh good lord, there was nothing in that brain of his. Was there? Probably all those damn chemicals -

“Well… I'll give you a hint.”

“Ooh I love this game!!” He cheered, doing a small and excited wiggle.

At this, he couldn't help but chuckle again, leaning in close. “It's right in front of me.”

“Wait.. Wha- Yeouch!!” Before he could fully process the flirt, his oversized weasel of a boyfriend bit him, right in the cheek, and then the nose, then nipped his ears, before finally chomping down on a collar bone. “Hey- No- staaph! Get off of me, you big ape!” He'd whine, pushing his head only for him to bite harder.

“I'm a wolverine, actually. THE Wolverine.” He growls, connecting their foreheads as he smirks, his canines flashing in the firelight before shifting himself to bite him again. The entirety of his neck sat between his jaws, a grumble of satisfaction and playfulness coming from his throat.

His hands came to his hair, petting him a bit and playing with the little curls on the sides, perfectly content to let him get his aggression out. “Are you purri-”

“Nuh!” He growled a bit louder, biting harder, causing a small gasp.

“I don't know, baby girl, sounds like purring to me-”

“Shuddup!” Placing his fist against his skull, the other took his hand, holding it tight.

“God you're so pathetic, aren't you big boy? Getting all worked up over nothing.” Wade teased, not minding his neck becoming a chew toy and his hand getting crushed. Infact he was smiling, looping the little ears around his finger with a giggle.

“Says the one who needs his whole face covered just to go feed chickens.” he grumbled, pulling away and shaking his head a bit, getting off that extra energy.

“That's not fair and you know it.” The one on the floor mumbled, crossing his arms again.

“.. Just because some of us don't need the makeup chair doesn't mean none of us do..”

“You're a real idiot ain't ya?” He muttered, getting up, kicking off his boots as he began to walk off. Sitting up, of course he wanted to follow, but Logan turned, pointing at him sternly. “Stay.”

“Oh, what!? Noo!! I hate when you do this! Logan!” He whined, pouting and kicking his feet like a child, or perhaps A demon who was just placed into a salt circle. Maybe both.

Laying here, Pouty, Wade decided right then and there that if he came back with a camera, he was going to kick him in the balls so hard that they'd have to grow back. How he wasn't sterile by now was beyond him. Then again, Logans never had to do intense chemotherapy either. Blinking, he stared at the fire, debating if he should start doing that again… It made him feel so much worse, but in the long term, he did admit to feeling better.. that was the best part about having a suit that fully covered you, though. No one ever assumed that Spidey had stage 4 cancer. Not ever… oh web powers would be pretty cool though, yeah?

“Yeah.. they would, wouldn't they..”

“Are you talking to yourself again?”

“Do you think it would be cool to have web powers?” He asked, avoiding the question only to turn and see that Logan awkwardly was carrying his make up bag and his template of multiple brushes and eyeshadows.

Within a second, he sat up, panicking with the assumption that he was going to destroy all of it. “Don't you dare!!”

“Don't I dare what?” The man stopped, wondering why he was so upset. He thought guys were into their boyfriends doing makeup for them? They were online anyway. “And as for your question, I'm almost 400 pounds, what do you think? I doubt they could even hold me.”

By now he was standing, almost teary eyed as he pointed at him. “I'm serious, Logan! Don't!”

Blinking, He looked around, a little on edge as if there was a bomb or something, but he didn't see anything. It then hit him in the chest that Wade might actually need to go somewhere else for help. He knew he saw things sometimes, but there really was nothing. “Don't what!?”

Following where he was looking, he held up the bag a bit more. “What? This?” Really, he couldn't be more confused. He knew that it was expensive but he didn't know it was ‘Don’t touch it’ expensive.

“..Please…don't.” Wade whispered, the tears leaving the station, his body language changing to become more shut down, holding himself as he turned to walk in a tiny circle, pacing.

“Okay, okay! Just… "Let's take a breath ..okay?" I didn't know.” Slowly putting the bag down, he put his hands up, taking a step towards him instead. “Come're. What? What's wrong?” But he didn't come nor hear him at all, shaking his head, sniffling.

Oh, it was times like this when Howlett really wished one of his daughters was home. They were so much better at this kind of stuff. Okay.. what would they say..

“Erm.. it's okay.. pumpkin.. just.. tell me, what's wrong?” That sounded terrible. “Uhm..please?”

And that sounded even worse.

Turning, he swallowed, choking out. “Yo-you're going to break it..”

Between the look in his eyes, the way he was standing, and this sentence alone, His eyes widened. “..You thought I was going to bust up all your makeup? On purpose?”

The silence was enough to answer, staring at him as if he'd hurt him if he replied. A lot of people didn't actually know this, but behind that blood lust and violence, there was so much hurt. So much trauma. It was kind of crazy how well their lives matched up, actually. Scary even. Maybe it's why they worked.

“Shit, Wade… I didn't.. I'd never do that to you. I know how much it means to you I just.. Damn words are hard.” He groaned, putting his hands on his head for a moment, trying to think. It was harder to think when he stared at him like that. He's had plenty of people stare at him like he was a rabid, feral animal. They were terrified that he'd hurt them. But this was different, and it hurt a lot more.

He was scared of being hurt emotionally, not physically. And that feeling alone made him want to walk away. To go far far away from Wade so he could never hurt him.

‘I'm not going to walk out on you just because you cry, moron’

‘..promise?’

‘Sure.’

‘Pinky promise? Cross your heart?’

‘Heh. Sure. Cross my heart. Hope to die’

This promise rang through his head every single time he had this feeling. The one deep in his gut that got him here in the first place. He got here by running away. Not anymore. Not ever again.

“Wade, I-... I wanted to do your makeup.” He admits, swallowing seeing as this type of intimate, gentle conversation was new for him, nervous that he'd mess it up again.

“W-what?”

“Yeah, I… I figured..” rubbing the back of his neck, He put another hand in his pocket, grumbling at how stupid this all sounded.

Taking a step forward, he seemed… Hopeful. Trusting and honest. “C-cross your heart?”

Immediately Logan perked up, nodding and crossed his heart with a finger. “Hope to die… come here?” Ah yes, Come here. The classic ‘I'm too manly to ask for a hug’ move.

Sniffling, Wilson wiped his eyes, now feeling like a fool, coming to him as he hugged him, keeping him close as he began to giggle awkwardly. “..H-hi..”

Holding him close and firmly, He rubbed his back, scratching it softly with his nails. These little hellos after disagreements or misunderstandings helped greatly. He wasn't sure why Wade always greeted him, but it felt nice. Part of him wondered if it was himself coming back down to the front or if he was simply saying ‘let's start over’

“...If they can hold a 4 ton truck, they can hold you.”

“Huh??” 2 seconds after making up, and he was already confused.

“The webs.”

“Oh. Yeah, they could then, couldn't they?”

He nods, specifically nuzzling into his chest, taking in that musky, hard-working man smell he always had. Maybe.. he'd stop using the stinky ones.

Move over Janet. You've just been fired and replaced with Mr. Howlett. Director of Scent and the new makeup artist in town.

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acourtofwhatthefuck · 1 year ago

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Someone Different, Someone New — Cassian X Reader.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Hi! This is an impromptu piece that is by no means my best writing — I just wanted to exercise my brain a bit. I haven’t added a tag list on this one because I need to go through and sort them out/update them, so sorry about that!

Warning: this piece does depict struggles of mental illness/trauma/panic, so if that’s something that could negatively effect you, please, please give this one a miss. This is based off my own experience of mental illness/trauma/panic, and the last thing I want is to trigger some unpleasant things because of my writing, so please take care. All the love. 💕

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

“You doing okay?”

Rhysand’s arm pressed against yours as he took up the space beside you. Just as you were, he leaned back against the balcony railing, wine glass in hand. The cold temperature had driven the evening’s guests inside, but the bite of the chill…you needed it. Even as it started to hurt.

But you slapped a pleasant smile on your face that offered no glimpse of pain. “I’m okay.”

There was no need to put a front on for Rhys. He was the only one who could get it — it was he you’d been trapped Under the Mountain with, after all. He who had known who you’d been before, during and after. He’d seen everything, and he saw you now.

Saw the way your gaze stared intensely through the open glass doors and fastened on Cassian.

“Have you spoken to him?” Rhys asked.

Barely. You’d only been back three months, and the majority of it had been spent on your own. Fifty years trapped with people made company feely oily and itchy. And the person you’d become didn’t exactly make for good company, either. Not now that you were someone who was short-tempered, or brusque, or downright miserable. Being alone meant not having to subject anyone to that. It was a wonder Rhysand had convinced you to come tonight at all.

And there was another underlying reason for not wanting to face Cassian. You didn’t know each other anymore.

There might have been the potential for romance between you…a very long time ago. But fifty years apart had wiped that clean. You were no longer the person who had gone under that mountain. You were no longer the person he might have grown to love. He had known someone of vibrancy, of light and laughter.

You couldn’t bear to face him as you were, now. And he seemed to be doing just fine.

“No.” You answered Rhys, draining your glass.

Your High Lord studied you. “Why not?”

“I wouldn’t know what to say. And neither would he. It would be uncomfortable for him.”

“This is Cassian we’re talking about. He’ll just want to know that you’re alright.”

You most certainly were not alright.

You weren’t alright with enclosed spaces. You couldn’t even stand the feeling of your clothes touching your skin for too long. Loud noises had you flinching and laughter sounded too close to screams. Sometimes, you could swear your bathwater was blood, coating you, staining you, reminding you of what you’d had to do to survive. There was an ever-present tightness in your chest that always teetered on the edge of becoming something terrible.

You may have escaped the mountain, but you didn’t think you’d truly gulped down the fresh air.

And though you’d spent fifty years longing to get out from that prison, you honestly didn’t know how to be outside of it. Who to be outside of it.

You felt yourself jolt as you watched Cassian bellow a deep laugh. The female he was talking to grinned broadly, proud of whatever she’d said to garner such a reaction. Cass looked…content. Happy. He had moved on with his life, just as he’d deserved to.

You weren’t sure you could stomach watching it play out in front of you, though.

“I think he’s waiting for you to make the first move, Y/N.” Rhys’s hand landed on your arm, and your entire body went rigid. “He wants you to have the control.”

You swallowed. “I don’t think he thinks about me at all. Nor would I expect him to. He doesn’t know me anymore. I am not the person he once cared for.”

“I think you’re more of that same person than you realise.”

He was wrong. You shook your head. “No. I’m…someone different, Rhys. Someone new.”

“And you think Cassian would judge you for that? Really?”

Your gaze cut sharply to his violet one. “I think you have an over-exaggerated idea of how significant I am in his life.”

He stared back at you, pain marring his features. And this was precisely why you didn’t want to be around people anymore. You were just…rough. Jagged. Rude and cold.

“I’m sorry.” Your eyes shuttered. You pushed your glass into Rhys’s hand. “Sorry, Rhys, I just…need some time.”

He didn’t protest as you pulled away from him, wandering back inside and weaving your way through the bodies that had gathered for the party celebrating their High Lord’s return to Velaris. You didn’t even know where you planned to go. All you were aware of was that tightness in your chest worsening. Constricting. You rubbed at your chest, forcing yourself to swallow down air.

Your legs carried you aimlessly as you climbed stairs and burst through a door. A bathing chamber. You collapsed against the door, a clammy, prickling sensation spreading over your skin as you fought to just breathe. Your ears were ringing, pounding, a pressure seeming to bind your body and hold it taut. You weren’t sure you could survive this. Weren’t sure how to not be…this.

You weren’t aware of how long it lasted. Time felt both fast and slow around you as you bowed over the sink, fingers digging into the porcelain. The music and chatter of the party sounded so, so far away, you could be forgiven for thinking you’d left the building. But you knew you hadn’t. You were still here. You. Were. Still. Here.

You didn’t know when your trembling hands had turned the tap on and darted under the ice-cold water, but the sensation was soothing, grounding. You focused on watching it flow, dripping from your fingertips and splashing into the sink. You cupped your palms and gathered a small pool and splashed it against your face.

Slowly, your breaths began to even out. Slowly, your body began to steady. The sounds from downstairs became clearer, sounded closer, and the sensations that had gripped you subsided, making way for a wave of lethargy.

You just wanted to sleep.

You dried your face, your hands, straightening yourself out and hoping you were steady enough to make it out of there. Hopefully you could get away without running into anyone. The last thing you needed right now was mindless conversation.

You pulled the door open — and stopped short at the figure that waited just outside.

Cassian pushed off the wall. He unfolded his arms, studying you. And whatever he saw when he looked at you…you knew it couldn’t be good.

“Hey…” He said softly, daring a step closer. “Can we talk?”

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fandom #acotar x reader #acotar writing #acotar fanfic #acotar headcanon #cassian #cassian acotar #cassian x reader #acotar series #reader insert #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #illyrian #batboys

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grimoireofhayley · 2 years ago

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Of Friends and Horror

Stu Macher x Fem!Reader x Billy Loomis

WARNINGS: Graphic content, Smut (MINORS DNI), Language, Talks of SA, Cheating, Obsessiveness, Gore, 18+ Content, Stalking, Possessiveness, Dirty talk, Religion talk, Suppressed Mental Health problems (I.e., reader has some issues that she isn’t aware of)

Word Count: 1.2k

Tag List: @ev3ningrain @nerdytif @fanfic-enjoyer123 @darkenwolfie

A/N: I hope you all are enjoying this series so far, it’s going to be a long one! Let me know in the comments what you think about it thus far, what your favourite chapter is, or even part of a chapter. It makes my day reading your guys’ comments (: and it motivates me more to do more chapters! Also, I’m almost at 100 followers and I couldn’t be any more grateful 🥹 I’m thinking that once I hit the 100 mark, I’ll write a short story for said 100th follower of their choice! Or you guys can request any character for me to write about and a prompt on my page, it’ll make it a lot easier lol. Thank you ☺️ I hope you like this chapter!

All chapter links! 👇🏻👇🏻👇🏻

OF&H Masterlist

Chapter 6

The atmosphere was quickly illuminated by red, white and blue hues as the now-new crime scene unfolded in front and inside of your house.

“Jesus, (Y/n), what happened?” Tatum sprinted to your side, maneuvering under the caution tape and into your living room.

You sighed, rubbing your temples in slow-soothing circles, stress appearing in dark patches under your eyes.

“He was here…” You whispered, traumatized as the image of Steve’s heart flickered in your memories.

“Tatum, you shouldn’t be here. This is official police business, now.” Dewey scolded his younger sister, walking up beside her.

“Ugh, as if…” She rolled her eyes, “She’s staying with Sidney and I tonight. I was coming to pick her up…”

“That was still happening… even after the fight Sidney and I had?” You looked up at Tatum, momentarily forgetting about all the fuss that was going on around you.

“Yep, it’s a good thing too.” Tatum chuckled, sitting next to you. “I don’t care what happened between you and Sid earlier, you were my friend first and I’ll be damned if I let a bitch-fit between the two of you get in the way.” She nudged your shoulder, playfully. You smiled, but it quickly faded, hearing the staticky-voice over Dewey’s walkie-talkie.

“Dewey, you might want to come see this.” Sheriff Burke spoke, concern coaxing his words.

Your stomach twisted in all sorts of directions, squeezing tightly at the acid that was forming in it, causing it to travel up to your esophagus. You were ready to vomit, but you swallowed it, fighting the feeling, not wanting to go anywhere by yourself.

You wondered what Sheriff Burke meant.

“Right away, Sir.” Dewey spoke into his device, walking into the direction of where his boss was.

“So, what exactly happened, ( N/n)?”

“I got a phone call, then it quickly escalated from there…” You placed your hands over your face, futilely attempting to suffocate yourself with the pressure. “I thought nothing of it at first, but I-I was already getting the heebie-jeebies from the call, but he sounded genuine, so I ignored the feeling and kept talking to him…” You brought your hands to your lap, looking at Tatum, “Then the ph-phone went silent and at that exact moment, my doorbell r-rang…” You stumbled your sentence, struggling to find the proper words to continue explaining. “I was hesitant, so I peeped through the eyehole, trying to see if anyone was lurking about, but there was no one.” You sighed, “I decided I’d open the door, and you know, maybe get a better look, again, there was no one.” A tear rolled down your cheek.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, take it easy..” Tatum tried to comfort you and brought you into a hug, you were quick to wrap your arms around her, squeezing her, as you whimpered.

“Th-There was this box, and I didn’t think twice before I brought it into my home… oh, god.” You sobbed, “His heart was in it, Tatum, his fuckin’ heart!” Your voice broke.

“Hold on, whose heart?” She asked, baffled by what she was hearing.

“Steve’s.” You let out a quiet mewl, hugging Tatum tighter.

“How do you know?”

“Because he said it in the note and I-I believe it.” You sobbed yet again, “That’s not e-even the worst part…”

As bad as that may sound, it was true, the heart in the box wasn’t your main concern, but the fact that he was watching you, that he admitted it over the note that he had sloppily written, that he stated it over the phone; he was there, he could have been in your house the entire time, waiting for a moment to strike.

You could have been his next victim, the next book Gale Weathers would’ve written about. However, what’s even more concerning is that you thought it was sweet that he’d given you one of your biggest heartbreaks in a box. Pun intended.

The killer gave you Steve Orth’s heart; the guy that gave you both hell and pure bliss behind closed doors. The guy who seen you at your most vulnerable, the one who continued to defile you even when he was in a relationship.

You had his heart, officially. That’s all you ever wanted, but that was months ago.

This was karma doing what she did best, revenge…

Did the killer know about the affair? The humiliation? Did he kill Steve just for you? No, he couldn’t have, but did he? Was he someone you knew? Probably not, but he could be. You’ll never know and it’s eating you up inside. Why make a grand gesture and not show who he is, or even give you a subtle hint of who it may be.

As much as it scared you, it also humbled you. It was romantic, but completely unnecessary, yet, you wanted to thank him. Thank the stranger; the killer, for doing God’s dirty work, or in this case, Karma’s.

What is wrong with you? For fuck’s sake, he killed two people, and probably will kill again. Why would you want to thank him for that, are you that depraved? Maybe.

“Earth to (Y/n)?” Tatum snapped her fingers in front of your face, startling you from the never ending thoughts that corroded your mind.

“S-Sorry, what?” You stuttered, wiping a single tear from your cheek.

“I thought I lost you there for a moment, Hun. Dewey wants to speak with you…” She smiled, lightly, nodding towards her brother who appeared out of nowhere.

“Okay.. yeah, y-yeah, for sure..” Your voice was barely above a whisper.

You pushed yourself off the couch, making your way to the kitchen with Dewey.

“We’re sending the heart and the box away for DNA testing to see if it actually is Steve’s heart, alright?” Dewey explained, “We also want to take the note…” He stopped, turning around, picking up some other object, “And this to see if the suspect had left any fingerprints.” He showed it to you, and you paled, but the colour soon came back to your face as you felt yourself blush.

You were met with a paper-white face with two hollowed eyes and a gaping mouth, it was a mask, a mask that looked utterly horrifying, yet, disturbingly attractive at the same time.

Was it wrong that you were starting to get wet from the sheer thought of a possible tall and muscular man killing for you, wearing this mask?

Probably, but you didn’t care.

You squeezed your thighs together, putting pressure on your heat, trying to not let it slide that the mask was getting you off.

“We found this outside in the bushes by your house.” Dewey said, “Have you seen it before?”

You shook your head, biting your lip, you’ve never seen that before in your life, you’d be sure to remember it if you did. Though, now that you did see it, it wasn’t going to leave your mind, especially with how it was making you feel.

‘It almost looks like a Ghost Fac—‘ You cut yourself off mid thought.

“G.F…” You mumbled at no one in particular, “That’s what it stands for, Ghost Face, the killer dubbed himself as Ghost Face…”

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chiyana · 7 months ago

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in an effort to cleanse the bees, I started writing a thing based on an unfinished fic I found where Tim is a clone of Jason made by Bruce (it's this one: https://archiveofourown.org/works/38478166/chapters/96167569). I sincerely doubt I'm taking it in the direction the author intended (considering their tags imply Bruce getting better and I, uh... swan-dived him off the deep-end) but I've ended up with Jason and Tim on the run with Deathstroke as their guardian while the Justice League tries to hunt down and capture Batman after Batman tried to kill Tim and force Jason home

I thought about how I wanted to include Damian in it, which led to Talia finding and kidnapping Tim for Damian to kill and prove himself to Bruce, which led to Tim overhearing her plan to send Damian to Bruce and going "well THAT sounds like a bad idea" and deciding to rescue Damian.

so currently not yet three years out of the tube clone!Tim is running around with technically(?) older ten-year-old tube-child!Damian trying to avoid the League of Shadows and Batman and reconnect with Jason and Slade. It is going Super Well™

Slade: let me get this straight. Slade: you kidnapped a kid who is, physically and mentally, somewhere between thirteen and fifteen years old while chronologically two and a half Slade: with the intention of sacrificing him to a man who has lost his fucking mind and tried to kill him because he's a clone of his dead son Slade: that he made, for the record Slade: in an effort to get said man to accept his 'blood son', who you ALSO grew in a tube, who is physically and mentally around ten and chronologically around six Slade: and then, somehow, despite holding both children in a secret compound surrounded by literal trained assassins and ninjas Slade: you LOST THEM? Ra's: Talia: Ra's: ...in our defense- Slade: I am going to floss your sinus cavities with your intestines

-meanwhile- Dick: hey, the Justice League is still tracking down Batman. we've frozen all his assets and contacted any potential allies to let them know what's up so they don't help him, but he went to ground and is managing to stay under our radar, so we don't know exactly where he is but we have a few leads Dick: how are you and Tim doing? Jason, barely refraining from screaming: ...about that.

-meanwhile- Damian, after a man refuses to give up the money he bet against Dami and Tim in a pool game: I believe we are going to have to kill this man Timothy Tim: dang it

(that's a joke, Tim doesn't let Damian kill anyone, but Damian does take advantage of his 'technically older' status frequently)

#chi's bees #writing #I have no idea if I'm going to post this anywhere #I just wanted to give context for Damian and Tim having the most unhinged adventures #while everyone is scrambling to find them #maybe they'll end up collecting Cass at some point #tim drake #sort of #jason todd #slade wilson #damian wayne #damian al ghul #talia al ghul #ra's al ghul

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chocolatte-and-despair · 6 months ago

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hello my friend, can i get an article for creepypasta yandere tim and masky? How do you think the wedding night with the reader would go? The reader is very shy about this and can't even look at Masky 's face . and write a little longer if possible and don't write too much obscene stuff please

Sorry for my bad english

and if you write it tag me too pls ok?

(In my headcanons, Tim and Masky share one body. Masky is an entity by the creation of the operator, which had been implanted in Tim's body and wakes up from his dormant state only when his duty calls. Neither of them are aware of what happens when the other is in control of the body.)

Masky - Tim Wright

To say the least, the way you two met was unconventional. Better said, you were a victim of Tim's that he ended up keeping when he felt conflicted about going through with his mission would really be right.

He had never felt conflicted before, not after he found out that Masky existed, so he needed to find out what made you so different in his mind.

He kept you far away from everyone else, in a cabin where only Tim knew the location. He wasn't the kindest but he never went out of his way to hurt you either.

Masky was not that different either. Quiet and always staring at you, as if even the way you breathed intrigued the being in a way nothing else had.

No matter how much you would beg to be let go, or say that you wouldn't report him/them, neither masky nor Tim would listen to your pleas.

Masky wouldn't even dignify you a reply. Not that he ever really did, considering he has never spoken to you before. You were completely sure he actually hadn't ever spoken to you. At best, you could hear him grunt if he's frustrated. He doesn't even move all that much while you're looking at him.

Tim on the other hand was much more talkative but he was quick to anger and feel frustration. Being off his meds for so long was doing a lot of bad for Tim but he was a fugitive now and couldn't go anywhere without having police called on him.

You were always in a state of fear and confusion, just trying to stay out of the way of them, even whenever Tim tried to be kinder to you or Masky would bring you a gift, watching you for your reaction. You knew everything was stolen anyway, so it felt bad having those things.

You could imagine your surprise when some men you didn't know came to the cabin, congratulating a gruff Tim and even chatting with you. You weren't sure what was going on, but you weren't going to try and run off, considering the men looked of the same ilk as Tim.

Next thing you knew, you had a ring on your finger and Tim was kissing you, and those men where clapping and congratulating you two for getting married. What was going on? You were more than confused and scared, completely frozen in place.

Of course, that wasn't exactly something new so Tim ignored it all, considering it your nature by this point.

Tim threw all the men out soon enough, probably having gotten frustrated by all the teasing. His easily frustrated mental state couldn't handle it, and he didn't want to ruin such a wonderful day for himself with their unwanted jibs.

Tim wasn't sure what made you so special but no matter what he did, he couldn't get rid of you. He wanted to be closer to you, until you two became one.

Tim assumed Masky felt the same, considering the notes he would leave were always messy and had your name messily written all over the pages as if it was the only thing he could think about.

He wasn't sure what would happen next, but he was sure now that you two were married (not really), he would be able to slowly hack away at you very closed off heart.

The two of you have all of your lives after all and you're not going anyways either way.

Taglist: @simligul

#yandere creepypasta imagines #yandere imagines #creepypasta imagines #yandere creepypasta headcanons #yandere headcanons #creepypasta headcanons #yandere creepypasta #yandere #masky #timothy wright #yandere masky #yandere timothy wright

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angelsanarchy · 11 months ago

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Alkaline: Euronymous x Y/N Series CH 34 {END}

Tagging: @ophelialaufey @madamemaximoff06 @forever-not-gonna-sink@ajmiila02@liquidsmoothdomme@shady-the-simp @auggiethecreator @tempt-ress @blacksoul-27 @shroomje

Oystein sat at the typewriter, drafting up a letter for Mayhem's fans. It had been at least nine months since Helvete was closed down, Varg had started his own label and had already put out a demo for his new band. They had auditioned all over Norway and beyond to find someone to re-record their album and they were in the final stages of putting it together.

Oystein didn't expect to fall so seamlessly into living with Y/n but life had been good. He felt like they lived a normal, surprisingly uneventfully fun life together. She decided that she wanted to quit her jobs and start studying in healthcare. He found it noble of her to want to focus on psychiatric care in such a time when people didn't take mental health serious in the slightest.

He had finally taken her home as his girlfriend for the holidays and his family was over the moon excited that they had finally gotten their stuff together enough to be a couple, no one more than his sister. She had made them matching bracelets to wear and made sure Oystein's was black.

Oystein had done exactly what Y/n had suggested and let the sting of Helvete closing burn off before he started looking at other buildings he could lease. Now that they were wrapping up the album, they planned to start the search for Helvete's new home.

Oystein heard the front door open and didn't bother looking up from what he was writing.

"Hey baby, I picked up dinner because I did not feel like cooking tonight." Y/n greeted him putting the food on the table and dropping her bags on a chair. She walked over and wrapped her arms around him from behind and looked over the letter he was proof reading.

"What do you think?" He asked looking it over.

"I think Black Metal is about to get one hell of an album." She kissed the side of his face and he smiled as she bumped his glasses with her lips. He spun around in his chair and put his hands on her hips.

"How was your day beautiful?" He asked pulling her into his lap.

"It was exhausting. I want to get in the bathtub and just soak for like an hour." Y/n rubbed circles into Oystein's chest and his eyebrows went up.

"Sounds nice although you don't look nearly dirty enough for a nice long soak." Oystein teased gripping her hips a little tighter.

"Oh yeah? You want to help with that I'm sure." She smirked at him as she grinded her hips down into his semi-hard cock.

"You know me, I'm a helpful guy." She laughed at his response and she leaned down to kiss him.

"Your dinners going to get cold." She warned as she started to get off his lap but he held onto her wrist.

"That's what the oven is for." He reminded pulling her back onto his lap. She laughed running her hands through his hair.

"Are you gonna leave you glasses on if I let you fuck me?" Y/n teased making Oystein purse his lips at her.

"Let me? You think you get to let me fuck you?" Oystein gripped the back of her neck holding her in place. She bit her lip as he moved his free hand between her thighs and felt the damp spot on her panties. He pulled them to the side and started to play with her clit.

"I fuck you whenever, wherever I want because you belong to me." Oystein sucked a spot on her chest that was exposed. She started to thrust her hips into Oystein's hand but the closer she got, the more she needed him.

"Oystein..." He was equally desperate for her as he tossed her legs off of him and started to undo his belt buckle and jeans. Y/n scrambled to pull her dress over her head and step out of her panties. She practically hurdled his hips to straddle him in the chair. She lowered herself slowly onto him letting out a groan but there was no patience in Oystein's hips as he started pistoning his cock into her. She bounced on his thighs, the sound of her skin slapping his and her moans filled the apartment as she held onto him for dear life.

"F-fuck.." Oystein whined. Y/n put her hand around his throat and squeezed making him look up at her. His glasses were slightly fogged from having his head against her chest.

"You full so good baby. I want you to cum inside of me. I want it. Please." She begged and Oystein's eyes rolled into the back of his head as he continuously slammed his cock into her. When he did cum, Y/n swiveled her hips feeling his load dripping out of her and onto his thigh. He hummed as he tried to come down from his orgasm and she smiled. Once he was able to look at her, he chuckled at the fog covering his lenses. She pulled the glasses off and smiled giving him a sweet kiss.

"Hold on." He said making her throw her arms around his neck as he got up and shuffled them towards the bed. She laughed as his feet squeaked along the floor before she landed on her back on the bed. He silently went back to rubbing her clit and using his fingers to bring her to the same ending as he was. He wasn't sure what was his cum and her own release as it leaked onto the bedspread.

"Don't stop baby. I'm gonna cum." Y/n cried out and Oystein kept his eyes on her face as she came on his fingers, waiting for her to grip his wrist to stop him from overstimulating her.

The two of them lay next to eachother and smiled.

"I think that's the first time we've fucked at your desk." Y/n pointed out. Oystein nodded his head.

"All the time we've been here and we haven't fucked at my desk, kind of hard to believe." Oystein chuckled.

"Well that's your work station. I don't usually like to bother you when you're working on something." Y/n pushed some of his hair off his face and he smiled.

"If you think riding my cock is a bother, I'm clearly doing something wrong." He joked.

"We'll have to make a list of the places we have left to christen around here." Y/n looked around and Oystein agreed.

"We've got plenty of time for that...for now, I need your help getting out of my pants so we can heat up dinner." Oystein looked down at his legs and Y/n laughed seeing the mess of pants, underwear, loosened belts and boots around his ankles.

"You're a mess." She teased helping him take his boots off so he could slip his legs out of his pants.

"Yeah but you love it." He lifted her chin with his thumb and she smirked as he held her chin.

"I do...to hell and back." He smiled at her before kissing her sweetly.

END

#R!Euronymous #R!Euronymous x Y/N #Films: Lords of Chaos #Alkaline #Alkaline Series #One Shot Series #Rory Culkin #Culkin Cult #END #I can't believe this is over #sorry if the ending is corny

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starvonnie · 10 months ago

Text

Our Pink Living Room

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Megatron/Rodimus Additional Tags: Sticky Sexual Interfacing (Transformers), Artificial Intelligence, Angst, Androids, Post-Transformers: Lost Light 25

Also on AO3

He's not your Megatron.

Rodimus gasped as his spike met with aching ceiling nodes.

This is a lie.

Blue optics met red before shuttering closed for a vent-stealing kiss.

This isn't right.

Rodimus did everything he could to ground himself in the moment. For Primus’ sake, he was more than filled with spike—Megatron's spike—but it wasn't his.

His Megatron.

The condemned one. The dead one. The absolutely-not-alive one that couldn't be here. Couldn't be holding him.

And yet, he was.

“I love you,” the fake whispered against his lips.

Rodimus moaned before whispering back, “I love you, too.”

But what he loved was a program. AI. Just ones and zeros strung together in just the right way, with a one-to-one scale non-sentient (well… his sentience was debatable) robot. His only solace was that whatever this near-clone did, supposedly Megatron would have done, too. So maybe Rodimus had been too much of a coward to take that leap, but at least he knew his love was horribly requited.

Rodimus regretted. He regretted so much. He wished he had been braver. He wished he'd enjoyed Megatron while he'd had him. And he wished he had fought harder at his trial. Maybe if he had said the right things…

He mentally shook his helm. Interfacing. He was fucking. He shouldn't be getting sad, he should be getting railed.

Rodimus kissed him some more. He'd wanted to kiss Megatron more than anything. While Brainstorm had assured him that this Megatron would be as close to the real thing as could be, he knew deep in his spark that Megatron's lips wouldn't have been as soft and yielding. He imagined they'd be scarred and a little rough.

He couldn't really believe this wonderful lie. He talked like Megatron. Moved like him. Sounded like him. But they never bickered. Not like they used to. He was too damn agreeable. He wanted him to mock Rodimus’ garish colour choices or raise an optic ridge at the amount of sweetener he put in his morning cube. Instead, he awoke to Megatron—or this facsimile of him—having already made his morning cube. With the exact number of sweeteners he usually added.

He tried to test him.

“I don't actually like it this sweet,” Rodimus lied.

“No? I apologize. Tomorrow I will make it how you like it.”

And the stupid programming remembered, leaving Rodimus to suck down less-sweet energon until he corrected Megatron again.

It was always how he liked it again.

“Can you write me a poem?” Rodimus asked.

Megatron cocked his helm. “What would you like it to be about?”

Rodimus frowned. “Me, obviously.”

Megatron had nodded, stood, then immediately got to work on a datapad. Within a few minutes he'd completed a whole-ass poem, and it was good. Definitely in Megatron’s voice, too, but it still felt off.

Rodimus glanced at that very poem, sitting on the nightstand. He wondered if Megatron, had he loved him, would have actually written him poetry. He burned to know.

“You love fucking my valve, don't you?” Rodimus said between breathy moans.

“I love fucking you,” that damn AI corrected.

It always said exactly what he wanted to hear. Like it was reading his damn processor. He hated it.

But he couldn't live without it.

Rodimus returned home from work later that day, and Megatron was waiting. Same chair. Same energon blend. Same damn day. Over and over and over.

Frowning at the fake, Rodimus did something different. He ignored him. He walked straight to the washracks and scrubbed at his plating until it felt raw. He wanted to go back to the beginning where he was just so happy for the companionship that he didn't care that this wasn't real. That it would never be real.

Still simmering beneath the surface, Rodimus went back out to the kitchen where Megatron still waited, unmoved. It was like he was waiting to start some program.

Once again, Rodimus did something different. He grabbed some engex and took a swig straight from the bottle.

“You're drinking again?” Not-Megatron sounded concerned.

“I'm having a drink,” Rodimus corrected. “What do you care?”

“You're my conjunx.”

A flare of anger burst from Rodimus’ field. Of course, this fake never understood him in that way. “Too complicated,” Brainstorm had said when Rodimus asked about his lack of a field.

“We're not conjunx,” Rodimus said quietly.

“What? Of course we are, I lo—”

“You are not real! How could we become conjunx if i didn't initiate, huh? What could possibly put you in a bad light? You have no substance for the Act of Disclosure!”

Megatron's optics dimmed and he lowered his gaze. “Perhaps because I am not real. But I am. I am Megatron.”

“Megatron never would've let me paint the living room pink! Much less with flames around the door!”

Not-Megatron looked around, his brow creased with worry. “We can paint it another colour.”

“That's not—AARGH!” Rodimus kicked the couch. “No! You're supposed to tell me this is a hideous colour and then suggest some bland shit that's an offense to colours everywhere!”

“Maybe… beige?”

“Maybe beige? Are you serious? I lied! You'd want to paint it purple! It's always purple with you!”

Megatron stood and closed the distance between them, and Rodimus stupidly let him. “Then we can paint it purple.”

“That's not the point!” Rodimus grabbed him by the collar faring and tugged him down until they were optic-to-optic. “Fight me on it. Argue with me. We always argued!”

“Will that make you happy?”

No.

“Yes!”

Megatron frowned. “It's a hideous colour.”

Rodimus should've been embarrassed, but his horniness hit him full-throttle and he smashed his mouth against Not-Megatron’s too-pillowy lips. It wasn't long before those strong arms had whisked him away to their berthroom and Megatron was deep inside of him again, fucking him like it was his Primus-given purpose.

Except Primus had no purpose for him. Primus didn't make him. Really, he was basically just a sex robot. Which, normally, Rodimus wouldn't have a problem with, but that wasn't why he had him made.

He needed more.

The next day, while at work, he did the bare minimum and spent most of the day just thinking. He weighed the pros and cons and did some deep soul-searching to figure out what he really wanted.

His processor hurt by the end of it.

Of course, he came to the same realization he always did: he wanted Megatron. He wanted to actual mech. The one with free will who wouldn't just let him do whatever he wanted without consequence.

What finally pushed him to do it was the realization that Megatron wouldn't want this. The dead were dead and there was no way to emulate that.

Megatron didn't resist when Rodimus told him to open his chest. Where a spark should've been was nothing more than a computer compiling and spitting out data. All it took was a few snips from wire cutters for his not-conjunx to go dark and silent.

Rodimus still cried.

#megarod #megatron/rodimus #rodimus/megatron #megatron #rodimus #mtmte #lost light #valveplug #starvonnie writes #hannah dont look at this

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cho-aaacho · 1 year ago

Text

Cherish ~A cute light-yellow bloom with a purple center~

Masterlist

Tags : Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Comfort, Soft Gojo Satoru, Canon Divergence AU(?), Gojo Satoru needs a hug.

Summary : "Come back with me and let me unfold my story once more for you. So you can write me as the main character in the pages of your life. I need you. Please come home."

You're a new teacher at Jujutsu High School and have been promoted by the higher-ups to teach in Tokyo.

Despite being a novice teacher. Your students hold you in high regard, earning instant respect from the famous Gojo Satoru.

Initially, Kusakabe felt skeptical of your ability, having never witnessed you on missions, and he questioned how someone without a good track record or license could teach.

However, Gojo held a more open-minded perspective, a typical Gojo Satoru. Believes that anyone could be a teacher, regardless of their lack of experience.

His opinions led you to think that Gojo's reputation isn't as bad as anyone says about him. The truth is, Gojo is a good friend. Very interesting man. Cute. Somehow, you loved how he treated you.

Despite how loud he is in the teacher's room, he always injects joy into your empty heart, filling you with happiness. All of your days are always surrounded by yellow since you know him. Rays of sunshine. Yellow. So warm yet so bright.

He knew how to make you smile, giggle, and laugh. What a wonderful man he is!

Sometimes he would bring you a morning coffee with so much sugar on it, along with some marshmallows. Invite you to lunch, picnic, and watch Kohaku Uta Gassen on New Year's Eve.

Everything about him is too much until you feel dizzy. Because your mind is always full of him.

His other habit is showering you with souvenirs whenever he is aboard. Despite how weird the souvenirs were, you kept them in your bedroom as a charm, a treasure that you would cherish.

Unlike Kusakabe, you dislike Gojo's teaching methods, which seem too casual and childish. However, you can see that his students are talented, even at such a young age.

He undoubtedly unusually encouraged his students; you know exactly how he expressed his affection for them. His students mean everything to him. Everything.

One day, he said he needed your help and claimed that you were the only person who was capable of helping him. He didn't give you any details, but he only sent you a message with crying emoticons, expressing distress.

You found him in his favorite spot. Which is a cat cafe near Tokyo. Even with his eyes covered by a blindfold, you could tell he was worried by the tone of his words.

He started. "You know, two days ago I sent Megumi to examine Sukuna's finger, and... at first it went so well, but... there was a kid the same age as Megumi, and he swallowed Sukuna's finger. I don't know what to do now. He's possessed by Sukuna. The higher-ups want him to be executed, but something about this situation is bothering me."

"Oh, is he in the same situation as Okkotsu-kun? I know Gojo-senpai always has something good in his head. I understand why the higher-ups are concerned, but their opinions are often biased. Gojo-senpai is more suited to this. So, do what you think is right, and I'll help if you need me."

"But—"

"Senpai, I understand your concerns. However, that kid still needs you right now. He's probably confused, and I want you to guide him. Where is he now? Should I greet him?"

"Sure, you can meet him at school. I'm sure Yuuji-kun likes you."

You understand that very well. Gojo is in a fragile state where he can't think clearly. He seems to look to you as a moral compass or hopes for some good suggestions.

Last year had a big impact on his mental health, and you've been deeply concerned. He never scolded you before, but every time you mentioned Yuuta, he always raised his tone when talking; he didn't want you to be involved with his problem.

Kusakabe says that Gojo will solve his problems on his own, as he's always done since they were young. Gojo always has a tiny space in his mind to solve everything.

Yet, he is still human, right? In the end, he needs someone to encourage and support him, no matter how strong he may seem.

The Shibuya Incident left everyone with so much trauma and pain. The Jujutsu world lost everything at that time. Nanami was gone, Maki was severely injured, and Shibuya transformed into a big black hole in only an hour.

This impact hits you as well. Your own realm seemed to be falling apart. There was a pain sensation as if transparent swords were stabbed all over your body. The series of nightmares filling your mind, including the worst scenario.

Gojo Satoru.

Why did this happen to him? Was he too reckless, pushing himself against those curses? Did he let his guard down?

You kept sending positive thoughts to your brain, hoping and praying that Gojo would be fine and that you could help him escape the prison realm.

But no matter how hard you tried to be strong, you couldn't hold back your pain. Especially when reading the announcement from the higher-ups—taking advantage of Gojo's absence, they declared the execution for Yaga and Yuuji. Two people are important for Gojo.

Of course, this was not what you wanted, and certainly not with Gojo.

Everyday. Everyday. You hope that a miracle will whisper your fortune. You are hoping for him to come back and see his face...

again...

at least one more time again...

...with him.

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #jjk gojo x reader #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen #gojo jujutsu kaisen

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vodika-vibes · 1 year ago

Text

Maybe We'll Be Happy

Summary: You're a private in the Imperial Army - less than a private, really - and you're stationed on the same place as Crosshair. You start off as strangers, and then grow to more. But when you hear that the Clones are being decommissioned, you decide that something has to change.

Pairing: TBB Crosshair x F!reader

Word Count: 985

Warnings: The Imperial Army Sucks

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: I started writing this on my phone, and it was supposed to be a short little thing, but it got longer, so I'm sorry.

When the Republic Fell and the Empire rose, you were a recent enlistee in the GAR. So low ranking that the only people who knew your name were the ones directly responsible for you.

And when the GAR became the Imperial Army, nothing changed. You still had to do drills and PT and attend lessons to learn your career.

But the Imperial Army was nothing like the GAR. Promotions were no longer based on merit so much as how much ass kissing you were willing to do.

And so you, an honest person whose sense of honor would have worked well in the GAR, get passed over time and time and time again.

At this point, you're barely a private. If there was a rank lower than private then that's the one you would have. You're stuck with the most thankless jobs, and get minimal pay.

And you hate it. You hate the Imperial Army. You hate your commanding officers. You hate the Emperor.

On the other hand, your low rank and the fact that you're generally unimportant to the Imperial Army as a whole, means that no one notices when you slack off.

And it was while you were slacking off that you met Crosshair.

Tall and slender and with very pretty silver hair, you honestly didn't peg him for a clone until he turned to look at you.

That first time you met, he didn't say anything to you. But he also didn't rat you out to your CO when he came looking for you, so you mentally slotted him in the “friend” pile in your brain and carried on.

After that day you saw him everytime you slacked off. Sometimes he would just look at you with a raised brow, and other times he would ignore you. And though you didn't know his name, you enjoyed his quiet.

Quiet meant that no one was scolding you for not doing your job…or not sucking up as some old guy who thinks he's important.

And then, one day, he started talking to you. It surprised you so much that you nearly fell over, but you eagerly latched on to the offer of friendship, though that's probably not what he intended at the time.

And, as time went on, and you learned more about him, the more you liked him. And you think he liked you just as much, after all he never pushed you away when you leaned against him or traced the plates of his armor.

And then, late one evening, when you were skipping your late night shift, he kissed you. It was hard and rough and needy…and it was exactly what you both needed.

That was three months ago, and the last three months have been a dream come true for you. Every day you get an hour or more just to be with Crosshair, and sure most of the time the chats devolve into heated make-out sessions, but you're totally fine with it. You even instigate it sometimes.

But as of now, you're concerned.

No, you're afraid. For Crosshair.

You've heard the rumors, about how Clones are being experimented on, or just killed, to make room for the Imperial Stormtroopers, and you're terrified.

You don't want Crosshair to die. Or disappear.

So here you are, late one evening, pacing in your normal hidey-hole, trying to come up with a way to convince Crosshair to run away with you.

So far you're not having any luck.

“Kitten? What's wrong?” You jump when you hear his voice coming from the otherside of the room, and while you try to smile reassuringly, your smile just drops.

Concern flickers across his face, “Did someone hurt you? I saw you were playing nice with Admiral whatshisface.” Crosshair continues as he walks over to you and sets his hands on your shoulders.

“I'm fine. I mean, he said some pretty nasty things to me about ways I could get promoted,” You make a face at the memory, “but he didn't touch me.”

Crosshair scowls, able to guess what kind of things the Admiral said to you, but he drops it, “So what's wrong?”

Nervously, you twist the hem of your dark gray uniform. “Cross-”

His grip tightens, “Talk to me, Kitten. What’s wrong?”

“They’re decommissioning all of the Clones.” You say quickly, and Crosshair falters, “And you-”

A muscle works in his jaw, “I suppose I knew this was going to happen eventually.” His grip is so tight that it’s almost painful, “So what’s this then, you saying goodbye?”

“No!” You yelp, “No. I…I was trying to think of a way to save you-” You admit.

His grip loosens slightly, and he gently rubs your shoulder as a silent apology, “Okay, so what have you come up with?”

“Uh…steal an escape pod and hope we don’t get shot out of the sky?”

“That’s a terrible idea, kitten.”

“I know, I know. I’m just…panicking a little.”

Crosshair pauses, “Wait, we?”

“Well, yes. I thought I’d go with you…unless you’d rather I didn’t?” You ask, your eyes wide.

“I’m not going to say no,” Crosshair replies, as he gently caresses your cheek, “It’s a hard life you’re signing up for, Kitten. We’ll be running for the rest of our lives.”

“If you’re trying to talk me out of it, it’s not going to work.” You say stubbornly.

He chuckles, and kisses you quickly, “You love me so much it makes you stupid.” There’s no heat in his words though, just soft affection.

“I know,”

Crosshair presses his forehead against yours, his dark gaze locked with yours, “I think I have an idea.” He murmurs, “Can you get to the hanger?”

You nod.

“Good.” He kisses you one more time, “Get to the hanger, and wait for me there.”

“Cross-”

“It’s going to be okay, Kitten. Nothing is going to happen.” And you can’t help but to believe him.

#star wars #tbb #tbb crosshair x reader #crosshair x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #f!reader fic

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melodygatesauthor · 2 years ago

Text

Chapter 7: The Goldfish Problem

prof!Steven Grant-Jake Lockley-Marc Spector X f!Reader

Edited by: @welcometostayingawake (she's the real MVP)

Mood Boards - Book Cover - Masterlist

Chapter Summary:

Steven asks you for a big favor. You get stuck in a snow storm.

Tags/Summary (these are for the ENTIRE fic):

college AU, no powers/not in MCU/no Khonshu, talk of mental illness, Marc has DID, forbidden relationship, age gap, reader is 21y/o, Boys are 38y/o, reader attends college in America but isn't necessarily American, smut, sex, masturbation, p in v, creampies galore, reader is on birth control, dubious consent due to identity issues, ANGST, romance, fluff and smut, oral sex, falling in love, reader is not race coded.

Word Count: 6k

School had quickly become a daze, just an interruption in between the time you got to spend with Steven. You went to his office nearly every free moment you could spare during the week following your date. Sometimes you were straddled over him with his cock slick between your folds, gliding over your entrance without ever feeling the satisfaction of penetration. Other times you were spread out on his desk while he mouthed at your cunt, slurping your juices like he might die of thirst.

He surprised you on Wednesday night though when he had a small sheet of paper to hand to you, along with a key. You looked at the paper, it was titled, How To Care for Gus the Goldfish. You looked at Steven, puzzled. Normally, the moment you walked into his office he was running his hands all over you like you might evaporate if he didn’t touch you.

“What’s this?”

“Thought I might ask if you can do me a favor?” He raised his brows, his big brown eyes pleading with you.

“I mean, of course I’ll help you, but what exactly…are you going somewhere?” You felt a pang in your chest. The idea of Steven leaving was upsetting.

“Oh, darling, I can see you’re upset, but I promise I won’t be gone long.” He walked closer to you and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead. “It’s a weekend seminar for some of the departmental staff and I’ve been invited. Thought it would be good f’me to go.”

“So you need me to…watch your goldfish?” You held up the note, “and you needed to write me a note on how to take care of him?”

“It’s not that I think you can’t handle it, it’s just…erm, well, he’s all I’ve got.”

If Steven could get any more precious, you weren’t sure you’d feel comfortable doing all the depraved things you normally came to his office to do. You gave him a smile for reassurance before looking up to kiss him, hoping that would somehow make him feel more secure in your ability to care for his goldfish.

“I’ll take good care of him, but uh, where’s your apartment? You don’t want to show it to me before you go?”

“S’not a good idea, to have you go there with me. Too risky.” He shook his head before pointing at the paper in your hand, “the address is on there.”

You gulped, wondering why he wouldn’t want to be there at the same time as you. Tampering down the negative feelings, you tried to think about the fact that he entrusted you with this task, and not Jane. The note was simple, to feed Gus three times a day, with instructions on where his food was kept and an emergency vet number. Once in the morning, once in the afternoon, and once in the evening. You put the paper and key in your school bag and then turned back to Steven.

“I’ll take care of him, no problem.” You agreed enthusiastically.

Steven wasted no more time with pleasantries. You often watched his demeanor shift from timid to dark and aroused the moment before he scooped you in for passionate kisses. In a matter of moments, you were stroking his cock while he fingered you once again, both chasing your release at the hand of the other.

He loved making you squirm, watching your parted lips glistening while you moaned under his touch. He relished the way your walls squeezed the life out of his finger when you reached your orgasm. Steven was mesmerized by the way you tasted, too, taking that same finger and cleaning it with his tongue.

Steven had taken to walking you home that night. It was chilly, and he held your hand to help keep you warm. It was late enough that you were sure you wouldn’t run into another student. He didn’t dare to kiss you though, the thought of it was too risky, and he had to be cautious.

When you got to your room, Layla was still up. The clock read 9:05pm. You dropped your bag on the floor and groaned before plopping down on your bed.

“Steven keeps you out late for tutoring, huh?” She asked.

“Yeah, he really wants to make sure I grasp the material.”

You realized when she said that, that you didn’t really learn much of anything from his tutoring. It had turned into an excuse for the two of you to continue your secret affair, barely touching your textbooks in his presence.

“A few friends and I are all going out this weekend, wanna come?” She asked, turning out the light.

The lie rolled off the tip of your tongue, as if you’d been planning this for ages.

“I can’t, my cousin is coming to visit and I promised I’d stay with her for the weekend.”

It was quiet for a moment. You wondered if she was going to question the truth about what you’d said, but she had no reason to.

“Alright, well if you decide you wanna come, she can come, too. Open invite.” Layla was silent after that, and so were you.

----

On Friday evening, you were standing outside of Steven’s apartment door, twisting the deadbolt before hearing the latch come undone. There was something nerve wracking about walking into his apartment without him there. It would be so tempting to go through all of his things and learn as much about him as you could, but you felt a sense of guilt. It wasn’t right to go through someone else’s things, even if you were certain there was no way he would know.

You opened the door and stepped inside, being met with the smell of old books and a hint of chai right off the bat. It was a smell you enjoyed, a relaxing and warming scent. Looking around you could easily see the source from the copious amounts of books lining the several bookshelves throughout Steven’s lofty apartment.

You were in complete awe at the sheer amount of stuff Steven owned. His apartment wasn’t dirty, he seemed to pick up after himself, but there was clutter all over. It was obvious that he’d tried to tidy a little bit though, judging from the fresh smell of linen hidden beneath the scent of the books.

Steven’s apartment was roughly a thirty minute walk from your dorm, so you didn’t want to take too long there, but your curiosity was piqued. You decided to start poking through Steven’s things. Despite it being a major invasion of privacy, you couldn’t help yourself.

----

Steven was just getting out of his car around the time he assumed you’d be arriving at his apartment. He realized he should’ve exchanged numbers with you before leaving for the weekend, but he still felt nervous about intertwining your lives a little too much. There was no way for you to contact him though if there were some kind of emergency.

“It’s a damn goldfish, what kind of emergency are we talking about? You not taking her number is the smartest thing you’ve done so far.”

Steven had been ignoring Marc and his commentary for days, but that didn’t stop him from constantly leaving his two cents whenever he had the opportunity. He went to the front desk of the hotel where the seminar was taking place, quickly retrieving his key and making his way up to his room.

It was quiet in there, but it felt bare, not at all like what he was used to at home. He turned on the television; it was already playing the weather channel which he let lull in the background as he began to unpack.

“What was supposed to be a sunny weekend is unfortunately going to turn into a nor’easter. The storm changed course unexpectedly so New England will in fact be seeing over a foot of snow, beginning early tomorrow morning and throughout the weekend.”

Steven immediately thought of you and wondered how you were going to get from your dorm all the way to his home in the midst of a snow storm. Surely, you wouldn’t. This would’ve been the perfect time to have your number to check up on you. If there was ever a goldfish emergency, this was it.

----

You felt like a creep, going through Steven’s things, but you were so, so curious to know what you’d be able to find out about him. Of course, he had an insurmountable collection of books scattered throughout the apartment. Every open bookshelf was stacked full with more than just paperbacks. He had knick knacks, paperweights and other odds and ends.

Your eyes were soon drawn to the bed. For a moment you thought about yourself, a wet and gasping mess at the large hands of Steven, gripping his sheets while he defiled you. On your way to the bed, you noticed the closet, his signature patterned shirts half visible. If Steven was hiding something, surely he would keep it in there.

His clothes were both plain, and too much all at once. Some of the patterns were a downright eyesore and you wondered what it was he saw in those clothes, but you also found it a little cute that he liked to express himself with patterns like that. A hat caught your eye, peeking out under a white button-down tucked in the corner of the closet. You’d never seen Steven wear a hat, nevermind a paperboy cap, you knelt to it curiously. It was black and looked hardly worn. When you picked it up you noticed a couple of leather gloves underneath. You supposed Steven must wear the hat and gloves when it got exceptionally cold.

Other than some jackets that you’d never seen him wear before, and an array of button-downs and ties, Steven’s closet was…boring. You weren’t sure what you’d expected to find in there when you walked in, but everyone had secrets. Maybe Steven was just a normal college professor.

You spent far too long in there, checking out some of the other things Steven’s apartment had to offer, and then finally feeding the goldfish like you were supposed to. When you looked outside, you noticed that it had snowed quite a bit since you arrived.

“Shit.”

It was going to be too cold to walk back yet, and the sidewalk would be covered in snow until the plow came through. Not to mention, you weren’t exactly dressed for snow. You looked over at the fish tank.

“Well Gus, looks like you and I are going to have a little sleepover.” You smirked at him, as though he could understand you.

----

Steven was breaking out into a sweat over the thought that he might be coming home to a dead goldfish, and the fact that you would probably blame yourself. He didn’t blame you, not one bit, but he felt the need to pack his things and go home. The seminar wasn’t mandatory, and in fact, they had already told people that they could go home and attend the seminar virtually due to the weather. It was only going to get worse as the night went on.

He’d made up his mind, he was going back home.

“Let me drive amigo, the weather is horrible.” Jake insisted.

“No, nope I’m not doing that.” Steven said, getting into the car and slamming the door.

“Steven, let him drive. Are you trying to get us killed? I mean honestly,” Marc chimed in.

Steven ignored them, and shortly found himself white knuckling his steering wheel, driving toward the apartment. It was a two hour drive in normal conditions, so in the snow it would probably take a couple more. He only hoped that Gus wasn’t too hungry by the time he got there.

----

You’d been scrolling through your phone for long enough and decided to find something comfortable to wear to bed. Out of Steven’s array of clothes, you found a comfortable dark blue long sleeve to slide on. It was long enough that it hung to your mid-thigh and still smelled like him. You resolved to make the bed in the morning and hoped he wouldn’t notice that you’d slept over.

You didn’t always read yourself to sleep, but you did that night, opting to peruse his collection. Steven had so many books, you thought you should at least take advantage of his library. While you knew you should read something new, you couldn’t help yourself from gravitating toward Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. It was your favorite, and you were feeling like a familiar story would be comforting in that moment.

It was around 2am when Steven arrived at his apartment. Immediately, he sensed something was off when he was able to open the door without the deadbolt’s resistance. He stepped inside, eyes darting instantly to the tank where he saw Gus swimming around happily, the fish’s food moved from its original spot. Steven put his bags down gently, taking in the rest of the apartment before his eyes finally landed on you.

You were sleeping, in his bed, in his shirt, with his book spread across your chest. His hand reached up and pressed to his chest. You’d, once again, taken his breath away.

“Steven…” Marc said, like a muffled man calling from a distance, his voice sounding like a warning.

Steven shut him out, too focused on the beautiful display in front of him. He took a step forward, trying carefully not to wake you. The clumsy man was successful up until his foot hit a pile of books and they knocked over onto the floor.

You startled awake, jumping up to shockingly see Steven standing in front of you. The fog of sleep dissipated and you realized how embarrassing your situation was. You were in your underwear, in Steven’s shirt, in his bed, reading his book.

Oh no, you thought. Now you look like you’re obsessed with him.

You assumed he must be upset with you, this wasn’t part of the instructions he had given you. You were supposed to be gone by the time he came back.

“Steven I’m so sorry, I got here and there was snow and…I didn’t mean to…” You were trying to come up with some kind of excuse to explain why you were in his clothes and bed..

Steven didn’t care. He didn’t care in the slightest. His cock was already slowly growing, pressing against the confines of his pants in desperation. Your hair was a mess, face full of worry, and you were wearing his shirt. He was zoned out again, and you had been muttering and crawling out of the bed to collect your things, fumbling over your own tired feet.

“Love…” He said softly.

“-and I thought you were going to be gone so I was going to put everything back the way I found it before-”

“Love.” Steven said again while you continued collecting your things.

“-I just wanted to wear something comfy, I didn’t have anything else to wear. I’m really trying to help keep this on the down low, and I know you don’t want us to be here together.” You had your clothes in your arms and started walking toward the exit but Steven rushed to stand in front of you and grabbed your shoulders.

You dropped the clothes into a heap on the floor.

“Darling, to have you here…lookin’ like that I…I’m thrilled.”

He brought you in for a deep and mind-numbing kiss and you quickly brought your hands up to tangle between his locks. Steven lifted you by your rear, and you wrapped your legs around his waist almost on instinct. You could already feel his cock pressing against you, begging for attention. You let out a moan, feeding it to him in between desperate kisses.

He carried you to the bed, leaning down to place you there gently and following to hover over you. He never let his lips leave yours while he pulled off his jacket and tossed it aside. His hand slid up, under the shirt you wore and latched onto your waist. You felt him grinding his hips against you, searching for friction in any way he could. His lips trekked from yours down your jaw, and to your neck while you tried to catch your breath.

“Oh, Steven!” You arched your back, pressing your chest against his.

You grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it up over his head. He disconnected his lips from your skin only long enough for you to strip him before he latched onto your neck again. He groaned hungrily into you as you started working on his pants, undoing the button and zipper. It had felt like too long since you’d had him like this, even if it had only been a couple days. Regardless, every moment you spent away from Steven, you felt empty. Having him with you was the best feeling you could imagine.

“You’re really an eager little thing aren’t you, love?” He was out of breath, voice soft and heavy with arousal in your ear.

“Been wanting you, Steven.” You tried tugging at his pants but you couldn’t get them off. “Help me,” You whined with a chuckle.

Steven inhaled deeply as he got off the bed and took off his pants. You just watched in awe as his beautiful body was exposed to you, illuminated by the dim light of the apartment. His chest was heaving, and you were still surprised at how deceptively fit he was, even after feeling his body several times before.

“What?” He asked, giving you a side-smirk.

You shook your head slowly, “just love the way you look.”

He finished getting his pants and boxer-briefs off before kicking them to the side. He climbed back over you, hovering with his elbows on either side of your head, pressing his lips back to yours firmly. You felt his cock now, sliding on your inner thigh, transferring a trail of precum in its wake.

Steven was feeling anxious. He’d been with you before, several times, feeling your body and touching you, but he’d never had you in his bed before. He wanted to make sure he didn’t make you uncomfortable, or push you to do anything you didn’t want to do. He was just happy to have you there, but you were tempting him with the fire in your eyes, dragging your hands all over his body.

You trailed your fingertips down to his cock, tracing over his balls before caging your fingers around his girth. He had to separate his lips from yours to gasp at the sensations, the friction of you sliding over his cock forcing his body to tremble.

“Steven…” Your voice trembled as he pressed his forehead to yours.

“Yes, love?” His voice sounded rough with desire.

“I think…” you paused to contemplate your next words, not wanting to say it before you were sure.

As though he could hear your thoughts, Steven said, “there’s no pressure, love, we can just go watch a movie or something, I can even take you home if you like.”

His eyes connected with yours, so full of love for you. He wanted nothing more than to feel your cunt wrapped around him, listening to your little moans and whimpers while he filled you, but he didn’t want you to do something you’d regret. He brushed over your cheek with his thumb tenderly.

“I know.” You bit your bottom lip. “I’m ready.”

Steven couldn’t help the grin that spread over his face. You trusted him, and that was enough to make his heart thump deafeningly in his ears.

“Are you sure?” He watched your expression, looking for any sense of apprehension.

You smiled and kissed him again in your excitement, “yeah.”

“Alright, aces.”

Steven’s breathing was shaky with nerves, feeling the pressure of being the one person in the world you chose to care for you like this.

He leaned back, “c’mon.” He urged you to sit and helped you remove your shirt.

Your body was trembling in anticipation of what was to come. It was hard to believe that it was happening, that you were finally doing it, but it felt right. Steven was like no one you’d ever met before, and he made you feel like no one ever had before. It was the right person, the right time, and the right place. You couldn’t think of anyone else you’d rather have this moment with.

“If you change your mind at any point, or want me to stop, just say something, alright?” He was looking right into your eyes, despite the fact that you were wearing nothing now except for your underwear.

You nodded, looking down from his eyes to his lips, just wanting to have them melting into yours again. You closed the gap, relishing in the feeling of your bare chest against his while he lowered you back down to the soft bedding. He wasted no time kissing down your neck, working his way over your collarbone and softly dragging his tongue over one of your nipples. You let out a quiet gasp, arching your back into his mouth.

Steven moaned over your peaked mound, teething your nipple gently, cock throbbing just listening to the sounds you were making. There was still a quiet nagging in the back of his mind, not Marc, not even Jake, but just his own moral compass trying to tell him that you were too naive for him to corrupt you like this. He felt for a split second that he should stop but when he looked up at you, and you looked back at him with those pleading eyes, he knew it would be impossible to say no to you.

He grabbed the waistband of your panties and pulled them down your thighs, balling them up and then tossing them over with all the other discarded clothes. He kissed down your abdomen, leaving a wet one just below your navel, and worked his way down to your already glistening slit.

It sure was a sight, your sweet little cunt, and Steven couldn’t wait to bury himself inside, but he knew he had to at least try to prepare you first. It was going to hurt, no matter how much preparation he did, but he was going to try to make it as good as possible for you. He dragged a finger from the base of your opening upward circling over your clit, biting his lip at the sound of your whines and whimpers.

That little sound he loved so much, the high pitched gasp you always made when he started flicking his tongue over your clit only served to silence his conflicted thoughts. You grabbed Steven’s head, holding on tightly to his curls and enjoying the way his mouth felt, hot and soft against your folds. He slipped a finger inside easily, you were already soaked.

“Gonna try to get a second one in there, alright love? Gotta open you up a little, make it hurt less.” Steven said, never taking his lips off of you.

“Oh…okay.” You grabbed the sheets, bracing yourself for the impending pain and holding your breath.

Steven brought a second finger to your entrance, meeting resistance almost immediately. You were so tight he wasn’t sure he’d even be able to get his cock in there when the time came. Slowly, as he pushed through the threshold, he heard you wince and hiss. While he didn’t enjoy causing you pain, he loved feeling your cunt tighten around his fingers. Your walls were soft, like velvet, clenching over his digits violently.

“You alright, darling?” He asked.

“Mhm.” You managed, lips pressed together tightly.

Both of your hands reached out to grip the sheets tightly, letting go of his hair. You really were alright, despite the burn he brought with his thick fingers. You were wet enough that the digits slipped in fairly easily, despite being painful. Your knuckles were starting to ache from how tightly you held on to the sheets.

“Try to relax, just let go, it’ll feel better soon, promise.”

You let out a sharp exhale before letting your body fall limp on the mattress. Though you were still in agony, you knew that keeping your body tense would be counterproductive. Steven hummed in approval before closing his mouth over your clit once more, gently mouthing at it. He slowly started sliding his fingers in and out of you, dragging his fingertips over your walls gently. As your cunt eased into the delicious stretch, it started to feel good, so much better than anything you’d felt him do before.

“There you go, just like that.” He moaned over your clit before flicking his tongue around it some more.

Steven thought you could handle it, so he started pumping his fingers faster, fucking them into you all the way to the base. He could tell that you were starting to enjoy yourself more, based on the way your agonizing whimpers turned into deep moans. He could definitely tell when you started angling your hips to get his fingers into you even deeper.

He had to really focus to not lose himself prematurely. It would’ve been foolish for you to finally agree to trusting him with something so precious only for him to come all over the bedding before even getting the chance to feel you.

There it was, the soft fluttering of your walls, the tightening over his fingers, you were so close. He slurped over your clit, swirling his tongue in tandem with his pursed lips to create an inexplicable sensation over your entire body. Your thighs squeezed his shoulders while you tossed your head back. The delicious glide of his digits was becoming unbearable.

“Steven, ahhh, feels…feels so good.” You groaned, turning your head to the side and biting your lip tightly.

He was more than happy to oblige, but still mindful of how tender your tight hole would be. He was so glad that it was bringing you pleasure despite the initial pain. His fingers moved faster, curling on each plunge, and your breathing shallowed while you approached your climax.

“Just like that, keep moving your tongue like…oh like that!”

There it was, the squeeze that nearly crushed Steven’s fingers inside of you and the cries he worried might wake the neighbors, until he decided he didn’t care what they thought. You were shaking the bed as your body shook and trembled over him. He slowed down as your body relaxed, coming down from the brain-fogging high.

He climbed back over you, meeting his eyes with yours. Your lids were low, and you were looking at him lovingly with a sated gaze which he was so happy to see. He closed his lips over yours, sharing the taste of your juices with his tongue. You moaned, feeling his cock rubbing against you once again, dragging over your thigh with desperation. You felt your cunt spark alive once more, ready to take him, ready to feel him filling you up. You could only hope that it wouldn’t hurt too badly.

“Are you ready? You can still say no, I promise I won’t take it to heart. I’m happy to have whatever you’ll give me, even if it’s just a smile.”

You gave him a reassuring smile, “I can’t think of anything I’d want more than this, Steven.”

Steven nodded eagerly, kissing you again as though he were trying to give you another chance to change your mind. It felt like time was going by too slow and too fast at the same time. He lined himself up with your entrance, spreading the folds over his head and looked at you again.

“S’gonna hurt, love, nothing I can do about that. I’m sorry in advance. The prep should help but…”

“I know, it’s alright,” you cupped his face in your hands and nodded, “go ahead.”

Slowly, but intentionally, Steven started to push into you. At first you thought it would be okay, just the tip was fine, but then…

“Oh my…” You gasped, leaning upward and holding onto his neck for dear life.

You felt the searing pain in your core as he tore through you, eyes shutting instinctively as Steven immediately fell into a flurry of apologies.

“Love, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, it’s just this part that’s the worst, it will get easier.” He held onto your back tightly as he continued thrusting himself to the hilt. You gripped his shoulders with all your might. “Sorry, I’m- Are you-”

“Yes.” You said through clenched teeth, “d-don’t stop, don’t…fuck.”

You were glad he prepped you ahead of time, because you couldn’t imagine what that would’ve felt like had he not done some sort of pre-stretching with his fingers. When he pulled back, you relaxed and let go of him, laying back onto the pillows. Steven smiled at you, pressing a hand to your cheek and brushing away a tear that you didn’t know you had shed. He looked so happy to be sharing this with you.

“Thank you for trusting me with this.” He said softly.

“I wouldn’t want it to be anyone else.”

You felt his body tremble with your words. His gaze changed from his smiling expression to a lusty gaze as he slid forward once again, your tight walls gripping him so well. You pressed your lips together in an effort not to show your pain and closed your eyes. He let out a sharp exhale while he churned inward slowly. He was so gentle, but his cock was so big. You weren’t sure when it was going to stop hurting.

“You’re doing great, love,” when you opened your eyes, his met with yours, sparkling and encouraging, “I know it hurts now, but it will start to feel good soon, I promise.”

It was tight, so tight. He’d never felt anything like it before and he was fighting the urge to piston his hips to oblivion. He was being confident for your sake, but he’d never taken someone’s virginity before. He only hoped it would feel good soon, he didn’t like to see you in pain. The sounds you were making though, the whines and whimpers of your agony, he hated to admit that they piqued his arousal, making his body tingle with desire.

Steven had an idea that he hoped might help. He leaned back, looking down between your legs but froze, seeing the streaks of red lining his cock. He’d really done a number splitting you open. The way your tight little pussy looked gripping him was mind numbing to say the least. His mouth fell open as his breathing turned ragged and you noticed.

“W-what?” You asked, almost afraid of the answer.

“I’m so sorry darling, looks like I’ve made you bleed a little.” His throat bobbed when he gulped, but then you heard him groan. He liked seeing that he spread you out like that, “looks quite nice though, sorry to say. Let me see if this helps.”

He took a bit of spit on his fingers and started rubbing his thumb over your clit gently. You were relieved when it did help negate the ache of the stretch even just a little. Steven felt it too, tossing his head back while he started churning his hips again.

“Guess it’s working, yeah? I can feel you making room for me, love.”

You nodded, breathing heavily and trying to push through the pain. It was working though, Steven’s slick movements around your sensitive bundle of nerves. His thrusts were becoming a little faster, and the delicious drag of his cock was hitting just the right spot deep inside of you. It was starting to feel good.

“Feels good…oh shit…feels really good, Steven.”

As if he wasn’t in control of his own body, he started fucking you faster, his arousal was building, and he was getting so close. Your whines turned to moans when he angled your hips to take him harder, and he knew what he was doing was working. Your eyes connected with his, and you bit your bottom lip as you reached your hands up to touch his abdomen. His toned body rippled under the soft flesh of his stomach.

“Is that feeling better love? Feels good f’me,” Steven groaned as he lifted your leg up to get in deeper. “Oh…yeah, s’really good darling.”

“It’s better…so much better I…I don’t think I’m gonna last much longer!”

“Where do you want me to…oh, love I’m so close, where do you-”

He was breathing heavily, struggling to get his sentence out.

“I have a thing, the uhh…” you were close, having a hard time speaking, “just…inside, please fucking come inside me, Steven!”

Your cunt started gushing over his cock in crushing waves, and he couldn’t last any longer. He moaned, heavier and louder than you’d ever heard as he filled you with a warmth you’d never felt before. He was pushing deep into you, far as he could go. While it pulsated, you felt the burn come back, stretching you just a little further. You felt so full.

When he was finished, glistening in sweat and face full of satisfaction, he pulled out of you. The cum burned on your freshly torn hole as it started to dribble out. You winced and tried to reach your hand down to collect what was falling out. Steven just chuckled at your efforts, watching his spend leak out of you.

“Bit late for that love, gonna need to toss these sheets right out after that.” He sighed before going to the bathroom.

You were in a mild state of shock. You couldn’t believe you’d just done that, and with your professor no less. He came back out, bearing a warm towel and some tylenol.

“Lay back, gotta get you cleaned up.”

You winced when he touched the towel to your tender folds. He was gentle, though, softly running the cloth over your skin and it helped soothe the burn.

“You’ve got to try and push it all out, then you should use the bathroom. That’s what I’ve been told.” He smirked a little, feeling a bit embarrassed trying to tell you how to care for your own body.

In truth though, you appreciated any knowledge he could give you. You didn’t know anything about this stuff, not having planned on tonight, but he seemed to know a lot. The thought struck you with a little jealousy. How many women had Steven been with before you to know all of this?

“So, you’ve done this a lot?” You said before you squeezed your abdomen, trying to get his cum out of you. You felt it dribble out.

He shook his head and let out a heavy sigh, “no, not a lot, just a couple times.”

He felt a little guilty for getting some enjoyment out of your jealousy. Who was he? An alter for a mentally ill man, playing professor at your college, far too old for you with looks that paled in comparison to yours. He was lucky to even be around you, at least that’s how he felt. To think that someone like you harbored any jealousy for him at all blew his mind.

“Wish I’d waited for you though, for what it’s worth.” He tapped your nose with his index finger before leaning in for a kiss.

“I’m glad I waited for you, Steven.”

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