#I would pay money to see this conversation

[poguehearted77]

Between The Lines

Summary-> It's the little things that go on behind the scenes between you and Drew that makes your chemistry electric.

Belongs to my: OBX Season 5: Payback for Maybank Series

These can be read in any order!

"Park place." Maddison narrates where Drew lands his dog piece across the monopoly board. "I'll buy it." He says but your hand is in his face, "Not so fast. I'm sure you would love to buy it if I didn't already have a hotel on it. You owe me $1500. Pay up." You show him your open palm, ready for lots and lots of cash.

"He's so cooked. Look at that pathetic stack of cash Drew has. I've got piggy banks with more than that." Jonathan's comments send the four of you erupting into a fit of laughter which eventually dies down to a patient silence. "Sometime today would be great." Madison clears her throat.

"Josh is coming!" Drew points, appealing to our gullibility and youall fell for it. By the time you realized he was bluffing, the board was tossed and the pieces were all out of place. He gets up and runs off as if he already knew you'd be hot on his heels.

Your outburts left JD and Madison alone to pick up the pieces, but not without an interesting conversation. "50 bucks they're together by the time we finish the season." Madison says it so casually as she reaches underneath the couch for the pieces.

"So I'm not crazy? You see it too?" He looks almost relieved. "Trust me, I've got a knack for these things." JD seems skeptical about the timeline of the bet. "I dunno, we finish filming in four months. That might be too soon, I say by the premiere."

The both of them look up so Carlacia who seemed to have been streaming live on her istagram. She enters the room mumbling something about getting winded by you and Drew sprinting past her.

Madison scoffs, "That's like nine months from now. They could get together and break up by then, but you know what-- If that's what you wanna bet, then be my guest." She holds out her hand and JD shakes on it. "You're on."

"We're ready for you guys." One of the assistants notifys them that it was time to head to the screening room where the weekly table reads were held.

Today would be your first look at the script for the second episode, and to say you were shocked was an understatement.

Script Summary:

Eventually the pogues put their trust in Piper and she gives them a fair exchange of some arms that they can handle, while she opts for her weapon of choice, a steel pipe.

"How do you think I got the name and the scar?" She says and it puts an odd sense of comfort among the group, minus a skeptical Rafe, to know you were confident enough in your skills that you didn't need a gun.

They beleived they were in good hands, until they realized they weren't. There was movement coming from the bushes and it made the pogues stand on guard, beckoning them to come out. Soon, the figures finally revealed themsleves. More mercenaries.

"Nicely, done Piper. It seems you can still make yourself useful after all." The red-headed woman speaks up, tossing you a pouch of money that you caught with one hand effortlessly.

"Never doubt my capabilities, it's insulting." You warn, tucking the pouch into the bag strapped across your back. The british woman continues, "Y'know, Mr. Finch could use your talents again. Once we're done tying up loose ends, we're headed back to home base in Lisbon."

Rafe is livid. He knew he couldn't trust you. It couldn't be by pure coincidence that the mercenaries popped up in the middle of this oasis when you were leading. "Lisbon? You told us Finch was here-" Kiara exclaims and Rafe interrupts.

"It was all a lie, from the very beginning. Mr. Alami, the merchant from Agapenta, he was working with you, wasn't he? You knew he'd send us to you, and now you got your sad little payout from these dipshits for bringing us to them." Rafe seethes.

"I'll neither confirm nor deny that claim, love the enthusiasm though." Your attitude remains unbothered throughout the ordeal until Pope demands, "What do you want from us? We don't have the crown! Groff took it." The red head shrugs casually, sharpening her blades as she approaches the group.

"Don't you worry, Groff will get what's coming to him. For now, it's time to repay the debt that is owed. You get blood on your hands, I get blood on mine." Your eyes bulge, "Hang on, you never said you wanted to kill them." You step in and the woman pays you no mind.

"Perhaps because It's none of your concern. You've got your cut, now's a good time as ever to leave. It's about to get messy." She retracts her hand, about to plunge the blade into Pope when she's knocked out cold by a flying piece of steel.

The group looks over to you in shock, fear, and a hint of gratitude, but there's no time to gush about it when there's suddenly a brawl that breaks out between the mercenaries and the pogues.

You all hardly take them out before escaping.

"Piper, what the hell?!" John B yells and his anger is heavily agreed on in the group, you take it on the chin before offering the most sincere apology you could come up with. They're unconvinced. "I deserve that. Everything you heard back there is true. Finch's Fortress is in Lisbon. If you find him, you'll find Groff," You trail off, reaching into your bag, handing Cleo the pouch of money you'd just gotten.

"Take this. It's more than enough to get you a boat big enough to get across the atlantic and even have some leftover for food for a few days. When you arrive on the coast of Cascais, you'll need to head north in-land."

There's silence.

A long silence, nervous glances between the pogues and Rafe's eyes roll. "You guys cannot seriously be considering trusting her. She almost had us killed! Am I the only one who cares about making it back home?"

"Just shut up, Rafe!" John B silences him, and Pope speaks up. "Listen, I don't know about you guys but Piper just saved my life when she didn't have to. We've already lost someone. Going after Groff could be a suicide missison for all we know. But we all know this isn't about our safety, it's about revenge. For JJ." His speech is moving, the expressions agree.

"For JJ." They all agree.

"To Lisbon we go." Cleo chimes, and the group moves on.

End of Script*

You had just finished reading the script and you were blown away. The cast never knows what to expect whenevfer a new script is dropped in front of them.

"Wait a minute... If the pogues are going to Lisbon in the next episode then," Madison trails off and the director ties in, "So are we. Pack your bags, flights are booked for Saturday morning at 5am, please do not miss these flights, we're not opposed to writing you out!" Josh jokes and there's excited and shock all around the table.

You knew that the last season of the show had implied that the pogues would be on their way to Lisbon but it never dawned on you that it would be so soon, even though it made sense.

"You ever been to Portugal?" Drew leans in, a soft whisper in your ear tickled your skin and made the hairs on the back of your neck at attention. "Never, have you?" He thinks about it, "If a layover counts then yes, yes I have." You're not sure if the joke was funny or if it just left the mouth of an incredibly attractive man, nonetheless, it made you giggle.

Madison kicks JD from under the table, jutting her chin towards the two of you giggling in secret and he rolls his eyes. "Patience." He says it calmly, but Madison is impatient, she knows she'll reign triumphant by the end of it all.

-

It’s a Friday night—or, more accurately, the early hours of Saturday morning. The world outside your accommodations complex is still cloaked in sleep, and you should be too. But no. The responsibility of making your flight in two hours has ripped you from the warmth of your bed. Groggy but determined, you scrambled to gather your belongings, knowing you wouldn’t be back.

After a last sweep of the room, you opened the door with a flicker of confidence—only to jump at the sight of a six-foot-two figure standing in your doorway.

“Drew! Oh my god, you scared me.” Your hand flew to your chest in a theatrical gesture, your pulse thrumming in your ears.

A small smile tugged at his lips, his eyes crinkling slightly. “Sorry. Just wanted to make sure you were actually up. Everyone else already left. There’s one driver still waiting downstairs.” His voice was smooth, annoyingly easy to listen to this early in the morning. Too easy.

“You sound oddly refreshed for 3 a.m.,” you quipped, your own voice still husky from sleep as you grabbed your suitcase.

“That’s the beauty of insomnia.” He shrugged, gesturing to his temples with a finger like it was some kind of genius life hack. “You can’t wake up tired if you never really sleep.”

The elevator dinged open, and the two of you stepped inside. The silence that settled was heavy, charged with something you couldn’t quite define. It hung there until you both spoke at once:

“So where are you—” “How did you—”

You broke into quiet laughter, and Drew’s mouth twitched with amusement. “You first,” he said, giving you a slight nod.

“How did you know I hadn’t already left with the others?” you asked, tilting your head curiously. For a moment, something flickered across his face—an emotion too quick to name—before a light blush dusted his cheeks. He masked it with an easy tone.

“I did some askin' around,” he replied, the answer short and almost vague. It was just enough to spark your teasing instincts.

“Ah,” you said with a smirk, “so you missed me?”

Instant regret settled within you. The elevator seemed too small, too still as Drew turned to look at you, his gaze steady and disarming. For a heartbeat, he didn’t respond, and your cheeks grew warm under his stare.

“You could say that,” he finally said, the ghost of a smirk curling the corner of his lips. His attention shifted to the elevator doors as they slid open, leaving you to wonder if you’d imagined the whole thing.

The ride to the airport was longer than expected thanks to roadwork that forced a detour. You should've been annoyed, but at some point, your head found its way to Drew’s shoulder, and your eyes fluttered shut. The fabric of his hoodie was soft against your temple, and his warmth lulled you into a half-dream state.

Drew didn’t dare move. The weight of your head against him was almost too perfect, and he fought the sudden urge to reach for your hand resting on your lap. Instead, he focused on the ticking clock in the back of his mind and the quiet hum of the car.

When you arrived, he sprang into action. “C’mon, we don’t have time to waste,” he murmured, grabbing your suitcase and his carry-on in one hand while ushering you toward the terminal with the other.

You barely had to lift a finger. Drew handled everything—tickets, baggage check, even navigating customs—with practiced efficiency, his jaw set and his movements quick. He wasn’t just organized; he was determined.

“Do you always walk as fast as a drill sergeant?” you teased as you reached the gate, breathing a little easier now.

He shot you a look, his lips twitching. “I'm not a huge fan of being late,” was all he said. But the way his eyes lingered on yours for half a second longer than necessary told you there was more to it than that.

Finally, you made it to your seats in first class. You settled across the aisle from Madelyn, who flashed you a bright smile.

“I was starting to think you two wouldn’t make it,” she teased, leaning toward you with a glint in her eye. There was an underlying subtext to her words but you were too tired to decipher it.

“Drew made sure that didn’t happen,” you replied with a soft laugh. The words were simple, but they carried a warmth you couldn’t quite suppress.

From behind your seat, Drew caught the sound of his name on your lips--and god did he love the way it sounds. He didn’t know what you’d said, but it didn’t matter. The fact that you were talking about him stirred something in his chest.

As the flight began, you glanced back once, meeting his gaze. He held it for a fraction of a moment before looking away, his expression unreadable.

And yet, for the rest of the flight, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. Couldn’t stop replaying the memory of the weight of your head on his shoulder—or wondering what it might feel like to hold your hand in his.

Taglist: @percysley, @lilithblackkk, @rafegf-real, @eternallovers65, @drsza, @wearemadeofstardust0, @cadhlabear, @thepopcultureaddict, @citr0us, @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account, @madi44444,

[magical-reid]

A Thanksgiving to Remember

Pairing: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader (No use of Y/N)

Genre: fluff

Content warnings: none

Word count: 1.3K

Prompts:

#28 “You owe me.” “I owe you $20, not a day of pretending to be your partner to get your parents off you’re back.”

#47 “I think I’m falling in love with you.” “I think I’m okay with that.” 

______________________________________________________________

It was Thanksgiving at your parents' house, and you were already regretting your decision to come. The smell of roasting turkey and pumpkin pie filled the air, mingling with the sounds of laughter and clinking dishes. As always, your extended family was gathered in the living room, and they were doing what they did best—asking the same questions.

“So, still no boyfriend?” your aunt Marge asked, her voice high-pitched and just a little too loud for your taste as she passed you a plate of mashed potatoes. “You’re not getting any younger, sweetheart.”

You forced a smile, taking the plate from her hands. “Aunt Marge, I’m good, really,” you said, trying to deflect the conversation.

Your cousin Rachel piped up, “Yeah, it’s about time you found someone. You should really try online dating or, I don’t know, maybe—”

“I’m fine,” you said again, cutting her off. "Really."

But it didn’t end there. Every time you turned around, someone else was there with their unsolicited advice or questions about your non-existent love life. It was exhausting.

You sighed quietly, trying to tune out the noise, but there was no getting around it. “Maybe I should just bring someone next year,” you muttered under your breath, picking at the salad in front of you.

______________________________________________________________

“Next year” came quicker than you would’ve like and you still didn’t have your plan set in motion and then it hit you. Your mind snapped to one of your oldest friends. Morgan.

Morgan knew you well enough to know how to get under your skin, but he also owed you something. A bet from a few months ago, one that he’d conveniently forgotten about, had never been paid off. He’d promised you $20, but you’d decided that money wasn’t going to be enough. You needed a more... creative solution.

Later, you found him in the kitchen, casually sipping from a beer bottle as he leaned against the counter, chatting with JJ about something work-related. You leaned against the doorframe and crossed your arms.

“Morgan,” you said, catching his attention. He looked up and smiled at you, eyebrows raising in that playful way he had. “I need your help.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Help with what?”

You stepped into the kitchen and lowered your voice so the others wouldn’t overhear explaining your situation. Reminding him: “You owe me.”

Morgan laughed, shaking his head. “I owe you $20, not a day of pretending to be your boyfriend to get your parents off your back.”

You shot him a pleading look. “You don’t have to pretend. I just need you to show up. You’ve been promising to pay me back for months, and now it’s time to cash in.”

Morgan gave you a skeptical look. “You’re not serious. You want me to pretend to be your boyfriend for a whole Thanksgiving dinner just so your parents stop grilling you about your love life?”

You gave him a tight smile. “Yes, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t back out this time.”

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Why don’t you ask Reid? He doesn’t have plans, and I know he would love to spend the day with you.”

You blinked. Spencer Reid. Of course.

The idea settled in your mind like the final piece of a puzzle. Spencer had always been there for you, another one of your closest friends, and there was something about the way he made you feel seen and heard that was hard to ignore. You’d never considered him in that way—until now. But he’d be perfect. Sweet, thoughtful Spencer Reid.

“Fine,” you said, nodding. “I’ll ask him. But if he says no, I’m coming back for you, Morgan.”

Morgan grinned. “Good luck with that. I’ll see you at the dinner table.”

The next morning, you called Spencer. You felt your heart skip a beat when he picked up.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Spencer, it's me," you said, trying to sound casual. "I know this is going to sound a little weird, but... I was wondering if you could help me out with something for Thanksgiving."

There was a brief pause on the other end, and you could practically hear his brain working. "Help you out with what?"

“Well, my family has been asking me a lot of questions about my non-existent love life,” you began, biting your lip. “And I need a favor. I was wondering if you’d be willing to come with me to dinner, pretend to be my boyfriend for a few hours, and—”

“I’m in,” he interrupted, and you could hear the smile in his voice.

“Wait, really?” You blinked, surprised. Spencer didn’t usually do anything unless it was deeply thought through, but he was practically jumping at the chance.

"Yeah, I mean, I don’t have any big plans. Plus, it sounds like fun."

You grinned. “Thank you, Spencer. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

Thanksgiving came, and Spencer arrived at your parents' house looking absolutely perfect. He was dressed casually, a simple button-up shirt tucked into dark jeans, but he wore it like it was tailor-made. You caught a glimpse of him as he walked up to the front door, and you couldn’t help but smile. He looked so... natural. Like he belonged here.

He was a hit from the moment he walked in.

Spencer immediately jumped into action, offering to help your mom set up the table, making polite conversation with your relatives, and even playing games with the kids. At one point, he entertained them with a few simple magic tricks, causing the little ones to cheer and clap. He was effortlessly charming, the perfect boyfriend.

And then, as you watched him pull out a chair for your grandmother and help her sit down, you realized you hadn’t been giving Spencer enough credit. He wasn’t just good at pretending to be your boyfriend—he was the kind of guy you would want to spend forever with.

Later, while everyone else was busy eating and chatting, you and Spencer took a quiet walk out back, toward the woods behind your parents’ house. The sun was just starting to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of pink and orange.

You both walked in comfortable silence, the air crisp against your skin as you ventured deeper into the trees. Spencer’s hands were tucked into his jacket pockets, and you couldn’t help but steal a glance at him every so often. Something had shifted between you today. He was the same Spencer you’d always known, but the way he held himself around you, the way he had stepped in without hesitation… it had made you see him differently.

Finally, after a few minutes of walking, you stopped, turning to face him. The soft glow of the setting sun illuminated his features, casting a warm light on his face. He looked at you with an expression that was a mix of curiosity and something deeper.

“Spencer,” you began, your voice quiet but steady. “I just wanted to say... thank you. You really helped me out today, and I couldn’t have done it without you.”

He smiled, but there was something else in his eyes. “I’m glad I could be here for you,” he said softly. “I’ll always be here for you.”

You took a deep breath, the weight of your emotions catching up with you. “I think I’m falling in love with you, Spencer.”

His eyes softened, and he took a step closer to you, a faint smile curling at the corners of his lips. “I think I’m okay with that.”

In that moment, you realized something you hadn’t fully acknowledged before: you didn’t need to pretend. You didn’t need to act for anyone else. Because you and Spencer—well, you were already something real.

[jasminedragoon]

Down bad. Fully immersed immediately. Dialed in. He is so patient. I would just love to know what he was thinking when our dear reader was talking about Garrett. I would pay real money to know his POV. I say this about every chapter and everything you put out, but GOD, I need to say it again. This was beautifully written from the flow of it, and the conversation is written amazingly, and the way you portray Angel's PTSD and her thoughts while she works through it is immaculate. I can't wait to see how Tess plays into their relationship once she gets involved or if she will also have to counsel Joel in navigating their relationship. I love this story ❤️ 💕 ♥️

✨Saving What Was Lost Part 4: Bubble Baths and Faded Scars✨

Pre-Outbreak! Joel Miller x fem! reader

Series Masterlist

A/N: Cut my entire heart out to write this chapter. I love love how soft Joel is, and I hope this brings a little comfort to all the healing girlies 🩷 There’s a lot of triggers in this chapter, so pay attention to the tags. I hope you enjoy this chapter because I so loved writing it.

Chapter Summary: Who knew that facing one of your fears would be so hard? It’s just a shower, but a shower is so much more to you. And just when you think you can’t face it, Joel helps you one step at a time.

Rating: Explicit 18+ only MDNI

Word Count: 6k words

Chapter Tags: Mentions of being trafficked, flashbacks of being abused and SA, angst, soft and protective Joel, PTSD, no use y/n, age gap (reader is late 20’s, Joel is late 40’s), pre-outbreak au, shower triggers, vulnerable reader, panic attack, sweet nicknames (sweetheart, angel)

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

One month. You’ve been here one entire whole month and you still haven’t been able to get yourself to step into the shower. It’s only a shower. It can’t hurt you, but they can. The memories that drag knives through your skull, leaving you to bleed out on the cracked tile. 

   It’s only memories, only deep scars from your past, but they still haunt you night and day, swearing to come back and swallow you whole with their jagged, sharp teeth — just like a great white shark. 

   Nevermind that you’ve been washing your hair in the sink or scrubbing your body until your skin glows red with the washcloth. You can’t fucking do it, but you’re going to force yourself to try today. You have to. You have got to break this traumatic cycle. 

   You can do this. It’s a shower. Only a shower. 

   Making your way cautiously to the edge of the tub, you glimpse at the metal shower head, fixate on the way it curves and dips and glares back at you with vengeance in its wake. It’s like a monster’s staring right back at you, sneering its sharp teeth and whispering nightmares into your mind. 

   Come and get me, you want to say, but it’s already sunk its razor-sharp fangs into your skin. It’s already bled you dry.

   Swallowing your fears, you stand your ground and narrow your eyes into thin slits, flexing your fingers into tight fists as you look into the face of fear. 

   It can’t hurt you, can’t wrap its long cord around your neck like they tried. But yet, it still can…

   You still feel their icy breaths blowing down your neck, still feel their filthy hands trailing up your skin, still feel the scars they clawed down your back while they had you pinned against the tiled wall. You still feel them inside you, all around you, branding you as their own forever. 

   You’re still theirs. 

   You hear their cackling laughter ringing through your eardrums as you reach for the shower head, stretching your arm through the visions of Garrett and his buddies having their way with you in the bathroom. 

   “Get out,” you mewl, chattering your teeth as you grab a hold of the bottled lavender soap from the side of the porcelain tub. You can’t let them win.

   “Look at you. All scared and helpless, begging for someone to come save you,” Garrett snickers, fisting the back of your hair as another man tears your dress off. 

   “Stop. Please…” you beg, tears streaming down and clouding your vision. “I’m worth more than this. You don’t have to…”

   “What makes you think you’re so special, princess? Nobody’s looking for you. You’re ours until we sell you. And right now? Right now you’re mine.”

   Tears slip from your lash line, falling like raindrops as they hit the edge of the tub. You remember that night so clearly, remember it like it’s happening all over. 

   Your body starts to shake the further you reach for the shower head, making it your mission to push through. But the voices echo in your mind, vibrating down your spine until you actually see their muted faces and narrowed eyes in the reflection of the metal. 

   Push through. Fight. Forget them. They’re not real anymore. But they are still real, and they’re just repeating the cycle with other innocent women that were taken…

   Just as your fingers latch around the shower head, Garrett’s voice booms through your head, ricocheting off the pristine tiled walls. “You’re mine, little whore. I’m not done with you yet.”

   “Get out of my head. I’m not yours!” you scream, dropping the shower head as it bangs a loud clash against the shower walls, startling you like a gunshot just went off. The soap tumbles out of your palm, the bottle opening and spilling lavender liquid all over the bottom of the tub, making messes you can’t get yourself to clean up. 

   You drop to the floor and cover your head with your hands, begging the yelling voices to just stop. But they don’t. They come parading in like a steep hurricane and crash their waves down on you, knocking you off center so they can snake their way into your mind to scream even louder. 

   “Stop, stop,” you whisper as a fallen teardrop hits the edge of the bathtub. And then they just keep coming like scattered storm clouds.

   You can’t fucking do this. You’re not strong enough. You’re not brave. You’re not brave. 

   Footsteps on the floorboards make your fingers curl deeper into your messy hair. You squeeze your eyes shut as the door hits the back of the wall with a loud bang. And now you’re spiraling.

   Garrett. It’s Garrett coming for you. And this time, he wants blood.

   You have to run. You have to get out, you have to leave. 

   “Hey, sweetheart—”

   “No!” you scream out in blind fear, afraid your life is about to flash before your eyes. You start to swing your arm but when you look up, you drop it right back to your side with wide eyes. 

   “Hey, it’s jus’ me. It’s me,” he reassures gently.

   When you look through your tear-stained eyelashes, the world gets a little more quiet. A green flannel fitted against broad shoulders sits before you, his silver-threaded hair glowing from the fluorescent bathroom lights, and those eyes... Those big, brown, syrupy eyes.

   Joel. 

   “Joel…” you whimper out.

   He leans down right beside you and gets on your level, brown eyes locked directly on your teary ones. “S’right. It’s me.” His hand lands on the edge of the bathtub, thumb grazing against the smooth surface. Close enough to feel the heat off his tanned skin. 

   You’re breathless, tears still streaming down your cheek, but he looks like he wants to reach out and wipe them away with the pad of his thumb. 

   “What’s wrong?” he asks, concern lathered all through his soft brown eyes.

   “I was just… I just…” You can’t finish your sentence without cringing at the shift of his shoulders.

   “Take your time, sweetheart,” he says encouragingly.

   He’s always so patient. 

   Taking a deep breath, you make yourself speak quietly. “I just wanted to get a shower. And I just can’t. I couldn’t do it. I can’t…” Tears muddle your vision, and then you’re right back into the pool you were in.

   “Breathe for me,” he coos softly, making your breathing a little easier. “There ya go,” he encourages. “Jus’ take it slow.”

   He takes a long look at the hanging shower head and the spilled lavender soap that runs down the edge of the tub, ending in a small puddle where your fear lies. It’s like he puts two and two together, like he understands exactly what happened. 

   “I made a mess with the soap, I…”

   He stops you right there. “Shh. S’okay,” he whispers. “Let me jus’ help you here, sweetheart.”

   Slowly reaching over, he turns the faucet to warm and lets fresh water run through the tub. He pours more lavender soap in, creating a pool of bubbles that cover the surface of the water. And then he puts the shower head back where it belongs, at a safe distance where it can’t touch you. And you just sit there, watching in silence as he tests out the temperature of the water next. 

   “You’re running a bath for me…”

   He stops for a moment and looks at you with big, warm eyes, looking at you as if you’re in need of saving. “Yeah, I am.”

   Gulping down a lump in your throat, you watch him get back to his task at hand. Stretching his long arms, he cuts the faucet off when the water hits just against the top of the tub. Enough for you to slip in and not spill any water out. 

   He tilts his head back to you and says, “You think you can get in by yourself?”

   Staring at the steam coming up from the warm water, you tremble inside. He drew you a bath when you didn’t have the strength to stand in a shower. He did that. He did it for you…

   Wiping your blurry eyes, you sniffle out. “I think so.”

   He gives you a small smile and then pushes himself up to his feet, nodding to the bath water as he turns the other way. “Go ahead then. I won’t look.”

   You sit there in shambles, still gawking as his broad back stands firm across the room. He’s not even peeking. He’s not trying to look at you. 

   “Sweetheart, s’alright. You can trust me.”

   You can trust me. There’s that word again. Trust. 

   Gradually, you start to pull your t-shirt over your head, cautiously dragging your leggings to the floor and hiding your purple lace underneath the fabric of your shirt. And then your bra unclasps with a snap, leaving you completely bare as you sit in a heap on the cold floor. 

   Turning your head back around, you see he’s still not looking, so you decide to slip under the warmth of the bath bubbles and sink until your body is covered from the breasts down. You pull your knees up to your chest, blanketing yourself with the large bubbles and your arms. 

   “You okay?” he asks.

   “Mhm,” you whimper out.

   “Is it alright if I turn around?”

   Freezing, your body is suddenly ice cold, despite the warmth surrounding your skin. Panic consumes you for a second, but then you remember it’s Joel. 

   He won’t hurt you.

   Balling yourself up even tighter, you make your decision. “Oh. Yeah, I umm. Okay,” you mumble out.

   The shift of his jeans and his boots tiptoeing across the floor makes your mind race, feelings of fight or flight invading your body as you work to steady your fast breath.

   You’re completely naked, stripped raw and bleeding all your insecurities and fears into the lavender soap that envelops the bath. There’s no layers covering you except the thin coating of bubbles and your curled up knees hiding what’s been taken time after time again from you. 

   You shrink yourself further into the tub, curving your back, praying your hair will cover the faded scars that slit you open night after night. You don’t want anyone to see them, can’t even stand to look at them yourself. They’re ugly reminders of what’s happened to you. Just heavy burdens weighing you down, telling you how invaluable and broken you really are. 

   Garrett used to love that… dragging glass through the top of your right shoulder, or just using his teeth to make blood run down your cracked skin. You still feel it. Every lash and bite and cut he gave you. He ruined you just like every other man that touched you in that house. Except he was the worst of them.

   You’re so fucking vulnerable and exposed, and it’s so raw. And you’re just showing all your bleeding shades of red to Joel. 

   When you hear him shift behind you and slightly feel his large presence near the bathtub, you freeze, and then your body starts to shake violently, like you just got dunked below an icy lake.

   “Hey, s’alright. It’s alright, sweetheart,” he coos as he kneels down against the side of the tub. “You’re tremblin’ like a leaf. Are you cold?”

   “N—no,” you whisper, shaking your head back and forth until you believe what you’re saying. It’s warm inside the bath water, but you’re still shuddering like you just got hit with a bucket of ice cold water.

   It’s quiet for a second before he asks, “Is it me? Do you want me to leave?”

   Briefly flicking your teary eyes up at him, you take a long look at his concerned face, embracing those warm brown eyes that you could get lost in. 

   Do you really want him to leave? If he does, that means you’ll be all alone with the roaring thoughts in your head. And you don’t want to be alone. Not really. You want him to stay because the truth is… he makes you feel not so alone. 

   He feels like fresh air.

   “No. I… I don’t want you to go,” you whisper, keeping your eyes locked right on those deep brown pools.

   He gives you a tight-lipped nod and takes a good look at your face, like he can just slip inside your mind and feel everything you’ve ever felt in those last two years.

   “M’not goin’ anywhere, sweetheart. Gonna stay right here. Right where you need me.” His words pull at your heartstrings, stopping the screaming voices in your mind. 

   He said he’ll stay. 

   You… need him. 

   Sitting there curled up in shambles, you don’t move. You just wade in the soapy bubbles and look up bashfully beneath your eyelashes, praying he’ll keep the flashbacks at bay. You don’t know when exactly you grabbed a washcloth, but your knuckles are white from how tight you’re holding on. Maybe it’s helping keep you sane right now.

   Don’t let the memories come flooding back. Keep me from sinking, Joel. 

   His thumb traces along the edge of the tub, while his other grabs the open bottle of lavender soap. And then he looks at you, hesitating before he speaks. He almost looks like he doesn’t know what to say, like he’ll scare you off or say the wrong thing. 

   He could never scare you, you think. No. Never. 

   “Can I?” He tilts his head toward your exposed back, his calloused fingers still skimming the surface while your heart beats sporadically from what he’s asking. 

   Swallowing the words that threaten to spit out, you push them back and nod cautiously, allowing him to take the purple washcloth from your shaking palm. He brushes his calloused skin against yours, and you jump at the contact.

   “Hey, s’okay. I’m gonna be real gentle, sweetheart. You just tell me if it’s too much and I’ll stop.” His deep timbre stops the panic, and all you can do is hang your head lower and focus on the slow deep breathing technique Joel taught you last week.

   “Okay…” you whisper out in a hushed breath. 

   The first touch of the soapy washcloth feels like knives to your skin, carving you up slowly as your body is served to the slaughterhouse. It almost feels like Garrett behind you, cackling as he had his way with you all those times. And when he slides the washcloth down your spine again, you hear a quiet sob escape your lips. 

   You weren’t supposed to show him this side. One that’s so torn apart and abused and broken. You weren’t supposed to show him your scars…

   “Sweetheart, s’alright,” he coos, blowing his warm breath against the back of your head as he stops his slow strokes for just a moment. “You’re safe. I’m not gonna hurt you…” he repeats again slowly, quietly.

   Swiping a falling tear away with the back of your arm, you let him continue. He’s so gentle with every movement, taking care to watch your reactions, back off if something seems too much. He listens to your body language and respects you because he knows how scary this is for you. You don’t want anyone to touch you, but you think this is okay. Because the truth is, you couldn’t do this without him. 

   Slowly brushing your hair to the side, he washes along the back of your neck, gently going over the curve of your shoulders, down your spine, and stopping where your body is submerged. 

   “Tilt your head back for me, sweetheart,” he asks politely, reaching to grab the bottle of shampoo. You do as he says. 

   He fills a little bucket with water and slowly runs it through your hair, until it’s all drenched in warmth. Next, he laces his thick fingers through your hair, scrubbing your scalp to get all the knots and tangles and sweat out. You fight to hold in a low groan, reveling in how good it feels to have his fingers running through your locks in such a gentle way. 

   And he stays there, talking you through it, telling you it’s all okay. And he’s so gentle. Almost like a little lamb with those brown eyes that could soothe you into a deep lull, calm your flying thoughts until you’re just standing still. 

   No one’s ever done this, taken the time to care. You’ve never had someone to do that. He’s doing what no one else signed up to do. 

   But why… why would he do this? You’re nothing. At least that’s what they told you back at the house. That’s what Angela said while Garrett had you pinned to the dining room chair, breathing all down your ear, his teeth dragging until he left marks.

   You shiver in place, teeth chattering even though you’re in warm bath water. But right now you feel like you’re ten feet under a frozen lake, and you need Joel to pull you out.

   The visions of Garrett come rushing back, clouding your better judgement and making you fold over again in fear. 

   Get out. Get out of my head. 

   But you’re right back at that stagnant old house. You’re back in Garrett’s hands…

   Fuck. Why’d you have to remember that night…

   It’d be so easy to slip under the surface of the bubbles, embrace the black seas that would drag you under into oblivion. You could just sink into the warmth, watch the real world disappear along with all your memories. Melt into a peaceful bliss. You could just end it all, but you don’t want that. You want to live, to face your fears, to go on living. You want to be brave. You want… you want… 

   “Sweetheart? What is it?” he asks lightly as he watches a tear break the surface of the water. 

   “I… I just…” You trail off, staring at the shower head, trembling as you remember everything. 

   His eyes follow yours, and it’s like he sees right through your thin layers of red.

   You’re scared. You’re so fucking terrified. 

   Joel knocks you out of your dark mindset, his Southern drawl taking that fear away. “Hey, talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong.”

   “Umm. I…”

   “S’okay if you don’t wanna talk ‘bout it. Jus’ tryin’ to understand what happened so I can help. I want to help. If you’ll let me.”

   You turn his words over and over in your mind, contemplating if you want to let him in. But honestly, talking to Joel does make you feel a little better. And keeping everything bottled up inside is eating you alive, so maybe talking about it will help. Joel will help. He always helps… 

   You take a deep breath and let it all out. “I just… I used to be so independent. I did everything for myself and now? Now I can barely do anything…”

   “Hey. S’alright, sweetheart. You’ll get back to that point one day. You’re gonna be okay.”

   “I don’t feel okay.”

   He stops the slow movements of his wrist, rests the washcloth against the middle of your back. “I know, sweetheart. I know.”

   “He hurt me…”

   The room turns silent, not even the splash of water meets the white noise in the bathroom. That is, until you hear his knuckles flex.

   “What?” he asks in a husky breath.

   “He hurt me,” you repeat, your voice dropped an octave lower.

   “Who, sweetheart? Tell me who hurt you.” He’s attentive, all attention on you, his eyes dark chocolate when they lock with yours.

   “Garrett… The one that sold me. He… he…” Your voice quivers into silence, only the quiet sobs escaping your throat.

   “Hey, s’okay. You’re okay,” he coos. “He’s not here and he never will be again. He won’t touch you again. Ever. And I… Well, I’m not gonna hurt you, sweetheart. I’ll never hurt you. You’re safe now.”

   You’re safe now. You’re safe with him.

   Your eyes drop back down to the bubbles, shining under the fluorescent lights, your hands skimming under the water against your hidden legs. “Back at the house, we weren’t really allowed to take showers alone. Well, not all the girls. One of them just happened to be me…”

   Pausing to flinch, you start again when he doesn’t interrupt. “No matter how much I fought back or screamed or tried to get away, they just held me down against the tile wall. And Garrett was the worst of them, even if he was the one trying to sell me. He was the one that used me the most. Said I was his favorite plaything,” you spit out, sinking your nails deep into your ankles to relieve some of the heartache.

   “Jesus Christ…” His voice drops an octave, and you feel his fingers flex against the washcloth, ringing it dry as he takes his frustration out on it. 

   “And the shower head,” you continue. “They… they umm, did things to me with it. Horrible, awful things.” You see his lips part, eyes widening in horror out of your peripheral vision. He doesn’t like this anymore than you do. “They should’ve just finished me off when they strangled me with it while they had my face pressed against the wall…” You choke on a sob, like you’re reliving that night over right now. You still feel it. The press of the coiled hose wrapped tightly around your neck, choking you as they had their way with your frayed body. 

   Joel sits back on his heels, looking at you like you’re made of glass. Like he’s afraid one wrong word will send you over the edge. “Sweetheart, I… Fuck. M’so sorry that you went through that. That I didn’t get you out sooner. I swear to God if I ever get my hands on Garrett or any of those men, I’m gonna make ‘em pay. They’ll wish they never laid a finger on you. I’m gonna fuckin—” 

   You stop him from going any further. You don’t need him to be the knight in shining armor right now. You just need someone to listen. “You’ve done enough, Joel. You don’t have to. What’s done is done. I’ll never be anything more than something to use to them, and they’ll never change.”

   Staring off into the waves of water, you try to let the bubbles wash your pain away, but another tear slips free, falling down the side of your cheek.

   “Hey, look at me for a second,” he asks softly. You turn to face him all teary eyed, and he catches the tear from falling. His knuckles brush tenderly against your skin for just a second, and then his warmth is gone the second he pulls away. He doesn’t let it linger, but you almost wish he would. His touch is so feather-like. So soft and gentle and warm.  

   He takes a good look at your somber face and sighs, his fingers knocking against the side of the tub. “You never deserved any of that abuse. And I’m sick to death that it happened to you. But you can’t jus’… You gotta keep goin’, sweetheart. You gotta keep livin’. You have so much to give. You’re so full of life and bright and the bravest girl I’ve ever met, and you—”

   “Brave?”

   “S’right, sweetheart. Jus’ like I said the other day in the parking lot. You’re so very brave. And you’ve got a lifetime ahead of you jus’ waitin’.” He stares at the washcloth for a second, but then he’s looking back up at you. “It’s gonna be hard. God, it’s gonna be so fuckin’ hard for a while, but you’re gonna make it. With a little help, you’re gonna soar.” 

   You feel water burn the backs of your eyes, feel like you’re going to implode right now in this bathtub. But you push the fears away and look back up into the soft brown eyes of a man who cares what happens to you. 

   “It’s not gonna be easy, but you’re gonna get through it. You’re gonna have bad days where you feel like you can’t do anything, but those are the days you gotta jus’ take it one step at a time, like today. And those are the kinda days where it’s okay to ask for help. I’m here, sweetheart. I’m here to help, whatever I can with. I jus’ want you to be okay, sweetheart. That’s all I want. For you to live.”

   Your heart clenches in your chest as you gaze into those soft brown eyes. And you just stare with your arms wrapped around your legs, almost want to reach out and graze your fingers through his sandy brown locks. He does something to you. Makes you feel like you’re worth saving. Makes you feel alive. Makes you feel like a human being. 

   He had every chance to take advantage of you in here. He could’ve done anything, but he chose to protect you and take care of you instead. 

   He took care of you. 

   So you continue to stare into those glossy brown eyes, memorizing every speck of gold in his flecked irises. He kinda reminds you of sunshine, warm rays of yellow and orange peeking over the horizon. 

   He reminds you of safety. He’s safe.  

   You shift in the bubbles that cover you, watch as the water breaks against your knees, and then your eyes are back on him just like you’re mesmerized. “How is it that every single particle of me doesn’t want to trust another man ever again, but I trust you?”

   A smile crosses his lips. “You trust me?”

   “Mhm.”

   He takes a good look at you and smiles wider, making his dimple sink into his left cheek. It tugs a little at your heartstrings. “Well then, thank you for trustin’ me.”

   You nod and peek up through your eyelashes, waiting a few seconds before you confess something. “You make me feel safe…”

   His brown eyes delve deep into yours, and his smile still hasn’t faded. “That’s ’cause you are, sweetheart. You’re safe with me. Always. I would rather kill a thousand men than ever lay a harmful finger on you. You’re too special for that, sweet girl. You deserve good things. You deserve the world.”

   His voice sounds like velvet. Smooth, delicate, soft. And even though you’re laid out like bare bones and crumbled dust, he seems to cover all your vulnerabilities and put all your broken pieces back together like glue.

   Somehow, he can knock the breath out of you but also give you an overabundance of oxygen at the same time. He’s good at that. Bringing you life when you feel like you’re getting buried alive. He gives life. Gives you life. And you feel so alive around him.

   You could drown in this bathtub, disappear under the thick sheen of bubbles until the world goes silent, but he wouldn’t let you go so easily. So maybe you’ll just drown in him instead. 

   Silence resonates over the bathroom. Only the longing stares and unspoken words fill the empty void. And it’s so obvious now why every time you stare into those soft brown eyes you fall a little more. 

   That’s it. You’re falling for him. Slowly, cautiously, silently. And maybe one day he’ll catch you, too. Maybe you’ll just fall into his arms one day when you’re a bit braver. Maybe he’ll take the sting out of your bleeding wounds. Maybe he’ll be exactly what you’ve needed all along. 

   But today, you’re not that brave. So you’ll just keep it bottled up like you do most things. For now, you’ll just let the slow burn simmer until it’s an uncontrollable wildfire that bursts into fiery flames. 

   Another few minutes pass by and just as the bath water starts to get cold, Joel asks, “You ‘bout ready to get out, sweetheart?”

   “Yeah. It’s getting a little cold now.”

   “Alright. Well, here’s a clean towel. Gonna put it right here for you.” He sets a fluffy white towel next to the side of the tub and nods his head toward the sink. “And I put your pajamas on the counter for you.”

   “Thank you,” you reply quietly, fascinated by the lengths he goes to make sure you’re taken care of.

   “You gonna be okay?” he asks, his words softening like his gentle brown eyes.

   “I think so,” you nod as a bubble pops around you. 

   “Alright, sweetheart.” He pushes off the floor with a grunt and heads toward the closed door, his hand reaching for the doorknob. “Well, I’ll let you get dried off and changed. I’m jus’ gonna…”

   “Joel?” You stop him before he leaves the room.

   “Yeah?” He turns his head, slicking a hand back through his dark locks.

   “Thank you… for being here for me.”

   A gentle smile meets his lips and a soft chuckle comes out. “Anytime, angel. Anytime.”

   Angel. He called you angel. 

   With one more glance, he’s exiting the bathroom, pulling the door shut behind him. You sink into the tub, letting out a deep breath and closing your eyes. 

   Joel did it. He helped you take a small step forward, helped you face one of your fears. And he didn’t push you, didn’t even nudge you toward the shower head. Instead, he drew you a bath and helped you get through it in one piece. You don’t think you can ever say enough words to thank him for what he did tonight. But deep down, he knows. 

   After drying off and throwing on your pink pajama bottoms and a t-shirt, you run the towel through your wet strands and rake the brush through your locks, already exhausted from the exertion of your shower meltdown. But then relief hits you that you took one step. 

   The first step is always the hardest, and Joel was right there, holding your hand the entire way. He was the reason you made it into the bathtub. And with him, it wasn’t as scary as you thought it’d be. Although, it was still terrifying, but you did it. 

   One step forward, no more back. 

   When you’re slipping under the sheets and about to turn off the bedside lamp, a slight knock sounds across the room, and your head snaps to the closed door, pulling your hand back from the lit lamp. 

   “Come in,” you echo across the big room. 

   The doorknob turns and in comes Joel, hesitantly hovering by the threshold of the open door, a small smile tugging at his lips. “You all settled?”

   “All settled,” you reply, shifting just a smidge beneath the warm comforter.

   “That’s good.” He leans against the doorway, his broad muscles pulling against the flannel fabric, eyes as warm as the first night you saw them. 

   You fidget your fingers around a thin piece of string, flicking your eyes nervously up at the man that stands in the glow of the dim hall lights. A man that helped you face one of your fears. And suddenly, you can’t think of what to say, so you just silently stare up at him until he speaks. 

   “Jus’ wanted to see if you got to bed alright.” He hovers there, big hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth on the heel of his leather boots. 

   “Oh, right. Yeah, guess I made it alright.”

   He nods, giving you another soft smile in return. “You need anything? Water, tea?” 

   Shaking your head, you smile. “No. I think I’m fine. Thank you, though.”

   “Anytime, sweetheart.”

   Another pause and then he’s slowly turning away from you. “Well, uhh. I’ll let you get some sleep, sweetheart. S’been a long day—”

   “Wait,” you stop him and watch him turn back toward you, his eyebrows threaded together, an eager stare masking his face. 

   “Yeah?” he asks, anticipation hanging in the air. 

   This is it. You gulp down a breath, blow one out, and let another fall from your lips. “Joel, I just wanted to say thank you. For… for helping me take that first step of facing something that’s been eating me alive.”

   He nods, the pad of his thumb brushing over his denim jeans. “You were brave doin’ that, you know? After what you’ve been through… That took a lot of guts.”

   “Yeah…” you whisper out, nails digging deep into the blanket over your thighs, but then you flick your eyes up to him. “Not just for that either but also for listening to me. You didn’t have to…”

   “I did have to, though. That’s what you needed. Someone to listen.”

   Your eyes widen, throat tightens up, and you feel the prick of a tear meet your lash line. He wants to listen to you. He didn’t shut you out when you needed to get a little weight off your shoulders.

   Brushing away the tear before it can fall, you give him a look that says how desperate you are to be free from these nightmares that plague your mind. “Maybe if I just… talk about it then maybe it won’t hurt so bad.”

   His face drops, and his big, sad eyes look like a lost puppy who just watched its owner drive off without them. “Oh, sweetheart… I’m always here. I’ll always listen. You jus’ let me know when, and I’ll be right by your side. And Tess will listen. Ya know, when you’re ready, that is. But I’ll be your outlet when you need one.”

   You tug on a little smile, giving everything you have to show him how grateful you are he’s here. If it wasn’t for him, you might’ve been lost to the shadows already. But there he is, trying to pull you into the sunlight. 

   Sunlight. He’s sunlight. 

   “You always seem to know exactly what to say, don’t you?” you say reassuringly, eyes glossy as you look up into pools of warmth. 

   He shrugs his broad shoulders and gives you a crooked smile. “I try, sweetheart.”

   There’s a pause in the room, a silence that’s fallen like snow. You’ve suddenly forgotten how to speak so instead, you lift the blanket higher under your chin and slip down further in the bed, letting a yawn leave your lips. 

   Joel shifts by the door and places a large hand on the handle, about to make his exit. “Well, I’ll let you get some sleep, sweetheart.”

   “Yeah, good idea,” you yawn again, now realizing how tired you actually are. 

   But before he steps out, he turns back and looks at you with those sappy brown eyes you can’t seem to get out of your head. “Oh, before I forget…” He pauses to take a breath. “They might’ve tried to drain you, deplete you of everything inside you, but they didn’t steal it all. You’ve still got your shine, your soul, your heart. And they can’t ever take that from you. You’ve got so much potential in you, and I see it all. You’re gonna glow. I already see that flame in you. S’burnin’ brighter than a wildfire.”

   Eyes as wide as can be, you swallow back a choke and feel your eyes swimming. Did he really just say that?

   Brighter than a wildfire. 

   You open your mouth but nothing comes out. It’s like you’re stunned in place, frozen under a bright spotlight with nowhere to run. Nowhere except maybe to Joel because he’s at the end of the bright light just waiting for you. 

   He’s waiting. 

   “Thanks for seeing that I was worth saving…” you whisper out, still enamored by his kind words, his doe eyes, his beautiful heart. 

   “You’re welcome, angel,” he smiles, his hand still hovering over the doorknob. “Well, good night, sweetheart. Try to get some sleep.”

   “Good night…”

   And then he’s shutting the door softly, leaving you still mesmerized and bewitched by all the events that unraveled this evening. But most of all, you can’t forget every single word he said to you. 

   He sees potential in you, sees it all. He thinks you were worth saving. Thinks you’re gonna glow and shine and thrive. 

   As you rest your head on the fluffy pillow and close your eyes, all you see is Joel. Joel Joel Joel. And he’s the last thing you see before you slip off into a deep sleep. Except he’s still there in your dreams, shining like gold under the sunlight. 

   He’s sunlight. 

Tag List: @clawdee @jellybeanxc @lotusbxtch @thebeldroramscal @laurrrra

@whxtedreams @sawymredfox @sanarsi @mountainsandmayhem @bitchytimetravelqueen

@southernbe @katinasweeney @pixelspunk @amyispxnk @mysterious-moonstruck-musings

@christinamadsen @aurorawritestoescape @evolnoomym @littlevenicebitch69 @alltheirdamn

@inept-the-magnificent @maried01 @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @fandomdaydreamer @elliaze

@callmecath1 @kulekehe @yorkshirewench @untamedheart81

@tateypots @stylesispunk @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @mellymbee @pascalsbae

@locaparapedrito @ladyofmidlo72 @readingiskeepingmegoing @copperhalfcent @axshadows

@here-briefly @cozylittlepigeon @pastawench @keylimebeag @joelsoftie

@romanarose @captainredspade @megangovier @bishtrouille @almodovarispunk

@papipascaaaal @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler @bambisweethearts @puddles221b

@valkyreally @northennlights

[ilikethisacompletelynormalamount]

https://twitter.com/debbie_odonnell/status/1655286925115240450?s=20

[designernishiki]

kiryu sitting haruka down for a really important talk and looking nervous but deeply serious about it and when he finally speaks he gives an honest and vulnerable admission that upon much self reflection, as unlikely as it may seem, as shocking as it may come, he is, in fact, gay, and he hopes this doesn’t make her feel any distress or discomfort in-part due to the implication that he likely didn’t have romantic feelings for her mom, he did care very very much for her regardless of labels, and so on and so on. and she lets him give this lengthy emotional confession that goes on for like twenty minutes before he finally goes dead silent anxiously anticipating her response. and she’s just like. uncle kaz I really appreciate you opening up to me like this and I’m really proud of you for accepting yourself for who you are. but me and every other kid at morning glory figured this out like 10 years ago

[icewindandboringhorror]

I’m always paranoid of my tumblr being deleted or malfunctioning or something like that someday, so here’s other places to find me/follow me, just in case lol

~ instagram - https://www.instagram.com/lucalicatte/

~ main youtube - https://www.youtube.com/c/LucaLiCatte

~ games/sims youtube - https://www.youtube.com/@cloudycatte

~ facebook page (I rarely use this because I hate facebook but.. it at least allows text posts better than instagram does, so idk maybe I’d use it more if tumblr went away? lol) - https://www.facebook.com/cloudycatteart/

~ Other Links (stuff I don’t use often/isn’t Main enough to list here, like twitter, neopets, other tumblr sideblogs, youtube channels, etc.) are here - http://icewindandboringhorror.tumblr.com/otherlinks )

[fingertipsmp3]

Would it be overindulgent of me if I bought a kindle and a switch on the same day

[onbearfeet]

A conversation at a wedding, beside the gifts table. There is a large box wrapped in violently purple paper sitting beside the table.

Guest: That's a big box. Wonder what's in it.

Me: A custom handmade quilt on an oak quilt rack.

Guest: Really?

Me: Yup. Wanna see?

Guest: Sure.

Me: *shows pics on my phone*

Guest: Wow. You made that?

Me: Yep. Finished it last night.

Guest: That's amazing. Very purple.

Me: Yeah, (bride) asked for that.

Guest: Oh, she knows about it?

Me: I worked with her on the design. But she hasn't seen the finished quilt yet. It's a surprise.

Guest: So you take commissions? Could you make one in, say, two weeks?

Me: That depends. Do you have ten thousand dollars?

Guest: What.

Me: Materials, labor, overtime to make that deadline--yeah, it would start at 10K. Might be higher if you wanted expensive materials or some really fancy technique.

Guest: That's a lot of money!

Me: It is.

Guest: Did you charge (bride) that much?

Me: No. Hers is a gift.

Guest: A ten thousand dollar gift?

Me: Well, to the extent that I am part of a quilting tradition at all, the tradition I'm part of is that quilts can ONLY be given as gifts. Anyone who could casually afford to pay for the amount of work involved in a quilt is probably not someone to be trusted with art.

Guest: Art?

Me: ART.

Guest: ...

Me: I also made her a nice satin dressing gown, which she wore for hair and makeup earlier.

Guest: Is that art, too?

Me: I mean, it's got pockets.

[deadpresidents]

"What emerged in two interviews with Trump, and conversations with more than a dozen of his closest advisers and confidants, were the outlines of an imperial presidency that would reshape America and its role in the world. To carry out a deportation operation designed to remove more than 11 millions people from the country, Trump told me, he would be willing to build migrant detention camps and deploy the U.S. military, both at the border and inland. He would let red states monitor women's pregnancies and prosecute those who violate abortion bans. He would, at his personal discretion, withhold funds appropriated by Congress, according to top advisers. He would be willing to fire a U.S. Attorney who doesn't carry out his order to prosecute someone, breaking with a tradition of independent law enforcement that dates from America's founding. He is weighing pardons for every one of his supporters accused of attacking the U.S. Capitol on Jan. 6, 2021, more than 800 of whom have pleaded guilty or been convicted by a jury. He might not come to the aid of an attacked ally in Europe or Asia if he felt that country wasn't paying enough for its own defense. He would gut the U.S. civil service, deploy the National Guard to American cities as he sees fit, close the White House pandemic-preparedness office, and staff his Administration with acolytes who back his false assertion that the 2020 election was stolen."

-- "How Far Would He Go", TIME Magazine's interviews with Donald Trump, April 30, 2024.

I know we're saturated in coverage of Trump and it's easy (and probably better for our mental health) to usually ignore most of the articles when we see them, especially since he's so full of shit and infuriating. But it's also important to recognize that he is going to be the Republican nominee for President and he could absolutely be elected in November, and if you thought his first term was scary and dangerous, you need to understand that in a second term he's going to have people around him that are better prepared and VERY willing to do the crazy shit that he wants to do to this country. They aren't even hiding the fact that they are seeking vengeance against political opponents whom they feel have wronged them, and are ready to fundamentally dismantle the democratic foundations that are barely holding this country together after nearly 250 years.

Just look at what Trump says about the people who he incited to attack the United States Capitol in an attempt to overturn the results of the 2020 election and halt the peaceful transfer of power that has happened every four years since 1789:

"Trump has sought to recast an insurrectionist riot as an act of patriotism. 'I call them the J-6 patriots,' he say. When I ask whether he would consider pardoning every one of them, he says, 'Yes, absolutely.' As Trump faces dozens of felony charges, including for election interference, conspiracy to defraud the United States, willful retention of national-security secrets, and falsifying business records to conceal hush-money payments, he has tried to turn legal peril into a badge of honor."

Oh, and please note that Trump -- a former President of the United States and possible future President of the United States -- said on the record in these interviews with TIME: "There is a definite antiwhite feeling in the country and that can't be allowed either." We are at a point where political leaders are outright saying that in this country again, and it's because of Donald Trump.

So, take the time to recognize that Trump is straight-up telling us the country we're going to be living in if he wins again in November. And understand that your vote matters -- and WHO you vote for matters -- because, as I've been saying for years now, ELECTIONS HAVE FUCKING CONSEQUENCES.

[svtswhorehouse]

DATING SEUNGCHEOL INCLUDES…. — sfw

• sugar daddy or boyfriend? (the answer is both.)

• the definition of a REAL MAN. no one has ever treated you with as much respect or given you as much love as seungcheol has.

• you're his pretty little passenger princess and he's your personal chauffeur.

• mom and dad of the group, duhhhh.

• he would drop anything and everything just to give you his undivided attention, no matter how important it is.

• yes. he would still love you if you were a worm.

• he would definitely give you his bank card without a second thought. it would also be linked to your phone, he insists on you using it always and would throw a fit when you don't.

• you would also give him your card at times and he always takes it without a fight, but would never use it.

• would take you out on dates in which you can dress up pretty and maybe dine at a fancy and EXPENSIVE restaurant. don't be fooled though. he also pays attention to the little things so if you're into books, he's taking you to a library themed restaurant. if you like animals, he's booking a ticket to orlando and ya'll are going to the rainforest cafe or something.

• you would never have to lift a finger ever again.

• he would wash your car, fill it up with gas, and take it to go get serviced without any complaints.

• he would burn down the world for you.

• he always puts you first. if he had to pick between you or the company (if they ever made him choose) he doesn't even need to think, it would be you every time.

• also your body guard ! any social gathering ya'll attend, he always has his eyes on you no matter how far away you are from him.

• times in which you do drive yourself, ya'll are definitely the type of couple to have life 360 on each other. he would text you saying to slow the fuck down if you're speeding.

• no matter how much you insist he goes to sleep and no matter how late you're getting home — it could be 4 in the morning, he will ALWAYS wait up for you.

• he has the habit of buying you anything you even slightly mention. he also pays close attention to the things you look at when out shopping together and they would show up delivered to your apartment the next day. he would take the heat from you, but still would continue to spend his money on you.

• when you have a bad day, he is already there with open arms ready to give you the biggest bear hug and shield you from the rest of the world.

• whenever you two go out together, he always has a hand on your back to guide you through crowds or just so everyone knows that you're off limits.

• if you ever lose during game nights with friends or really anywhere, he would do the penalties for you!

• he always makes sure you're on the inside when walking near a street.

• if you ever doubt yourself or feel insecure, prepare for a long serious conversation with lots of tears because he WILL NOT be having any of that. no. not when he thinks you're one of the most beautiful, talented, and honorable people he knows.

• you have never felt so safe and secure than when he's around.

• he will constantly be saying "i love you." definitely the type to call you back immediately if you forget to say it and hang up.

• he has a personal agenda out for revenge against anyone who hurts or disrespects you in any type of way.

• he will be your designated driver for not only you BUT your friends as well during girl's night out.

• he may be competitive, but when it comes to you, he would let you win just so he can see a smile on your face.

• says he CAN'T (won't because he's stubborn) fall asleep if he's not cuddling you.

• he becomes the softest most kindhearted person in the world when it comes to you.

• he gets jealous easily, but he trusts you with his whole heart so he doesn't dwell on it for too long.

• when it comes to arguing, no matter if he was in the right or wrong, he is always the first to apologize. definitely the type to get you chocolate, flowers, and ALWAYS gets you a teddy bear after.

• would make you sit on his back when doing pushups or would give you a piggy back ride when he is doing pull-ups !

• he LOVES when you wear his clothes. you would always find his shirts or hoodies on your side of the closet and be like "hmm, how did this get here?" ask your boyfriend.

• rarely ever calls you by your name. always calls you baby or something cute. he also insists that you don't call him seungcheol. he will pout if you do.

• definitely impressed your parents right off the bat. your family absolutely adores him and your parents treat him like a son.

• he would tease you by giving you a hug when he's all sweaty after practice.

• he INSISTS on picking you up EVERYDAY after work.

[caffeinewitchcraft]

Ghost Eater

Summary: You don't like exorcists. They don't much like you either.

-----

You’d always thought big restaurants like the Brownie Industry only did well in small, midwestern towns like the one you came from. A year working in LA has taught you that, no matter where you go, people will always love garlic bread and sugar.

It’s your day off which means you’re pulling a double shift. You haven’t had time to wash your hair for the past two weeks so it’s frizzing out of your claw clip and flying wild around your face. The lighting is so dim that you’ve tripped over two black purses already, luckily not while you’re running food. The big dining room sounds like an apiary with the tittering laughter of the later adult crowd that’s filtered in from the theater across the four lane road. The main difference between the Brownie Industry here and the one back home is size. The ceiling soars overhead, supported by a series of concrete pillars separating the dining area into three sections.

Normally it would be three servers per section. Today, it’s just you in yours.

One more hour. That’s what the manager promised you. It might even be true if the host stand quits seating you after the table you’re approaching.

There are three people at the table. A woman whose hair might be light blonde or gray in the light of day, her eyes light and piercing. Her face is soft from age, emphasized by the tight, lace collar of her off-season sweater. She reminds you strongly of your mom’s nemesis on the HOA board. The man couldn’t be more out of place next to her despite their equivalent age. He’s wearing a leather jacket – again, it’s not cold here – and a Norwegian metal shirt underneath. His hair is definitely white, so white it almost glows. He’s frowning at the teenager across the table as if she’s touched his motorcycle without permission.

The teenager might be the first you’ve seen all night who doesn’t have their phone out. She’s decked out in what you consider grandma florals – a t-shirt scattered with daisy chains, a bucket hat made out of nana’s carpet bag, and a hand-crocheted scarf in pastel.  You can’t really see her face under the shadow of her hat and there’s an odd, blurred quality to the way she fiddles with her napkin. You let your eyes skip past her and back to the two adults. Teenagers don’t pay the bill.

“Welcome to Brownie Industry!” you chirp. You’re sweaty and red but the faded yellow light hides that. You’re a service industry pro so none of your exhaustion shows on your face when you ask, “Is this your first-time dining with us?”

If you weren’t so burned out, you’d have noticed before you introduced yourself.

“Are you Grady?” the woman asks. Her voice is more posh than you expected even with her lace collar. “Grady Pace?”

Fuck. There’s a noticeable temperature differential now that you’re close to them. The restaurant is warm from the number of bodies, maybe even warmer than the summer air outside, but stepping up next to their table feels like walking into an ice rink.

“I’m your waitress,” you say. You don’t have time for this conversation. You’ve got five minutes in your cycle to take their order and then you’ve got food to run. “If you need any other services from me, I have a website.”

“We messaged you,” the man says. His lips thin to the point his thick mustache covers them entirely. “You never responded.”

Because you’ve been making more money at the Brownie Industry than your other job. “I’ll take a look at it tonight.”

“Wait,” the teenager says, sitting upright. She looks from you to the adults and back again. When she smiles, there’s no humor in it. “This is why we drove eight hours to have dinner at the Brownie Industry? For her?”

“Katie, be polite—”

“I’m sorry,” Katie says, “It’s just—I found a priest, you know? An actual exorcist priest and you guys want to trust a waitress over him?”

“Ugh exorcists,” you say. The memory of sour cabbage is so heavy on your tongue that you stick your tongue out in disgust. When you see Katie’s look, you backtrack. “Effective! Definitely effective.”

“Your mistakes have cost us too much already,” the man says, shaking a finger at her. “We are not converting just for an exorcism.”

“I normally don’t agree with your father,” the woman tells Katie, “but in this case I would like to leave conversion as a last resort.”

“We wouldn’t actually convert,” Katie says, rolling her eyes.

“Pretty sure exorcists can tell when you lie,” you tell Katie. When her scowl deepens, you clear your throat. “Did you all need another minute to think about the menu?”

“We need you to help us,” the dad says. He scrubs a hand over his face. “Look, I know you’re at work and I’m sorry we’re bothering you.”

“We’re desperate,” the mom says. She reaches for her purse. “We’ll pay you. Triple the rate on your website or even quadruple. We need that thing gone by tonight.”

Katie covers her face. “Mom. You’re embarrassing me. Terry isn’t that bad.”

“Oh, he’s bad, young lady,” the dad says sternly. “A bad influence.”

“We caught her trying to perform another séance yesterday,” the mom confesses to you. She leans forward with a pinched expression. “So Terry’s friend Larry could visit too.”

“Interesting,” you say. The food bell rings, but you think you can ignore it for another minute. You study Katie’s blush. “Why did you do that?”

If she was being compelled, she won’t have an answer to your question. You’ve dealt with a lot of ghosts in your time, but so few are sentient enough – or powerful enough – for compulsion.

“Go on,” the dad says, gesturing at you. “Tell her.”

“Leroy, she’s embarrassed enough,” the mom says.

“No, she’s not, Sarah.” The dad – Leroy – gestures to you again. “Tell her.”

Katie huffs, clearly resistant. But when her dad huffs back, she caves. “So,” she says, “I have this YouTube channel—”

“I’m off in an hour,” you interrupt. You don’t care that you’re being rude. Your patience ran out as soon as she said YouTube. “I’ll meet you in the parking lot.” You turn to go.

“A moment!” Sarah shakes out her menu. “How’s the nicoise salad?”

Of course they’re going to order. They’d better tip too if they want you to help them with their ghost problem.

----.

“You said an hour,” mom Sarah says when you leave out the employee entrance. She’s shivering next to her daughter. Leroy is off smoking behind his motorcycle, parked next to the Tesla Katie is leaning on, but he stubs out his cigarette on the asphalt when you walk up. “It’s been two.”

“I had side work,” you say instead of it would have been one if not for you. You rub your bare arms when the familiar ghost chill washes over you. You want nothing more than to go home and wash the scent of garlic and brownie batter out of your hair. “Was there something wrong with my service?”

“No?”

You try to make your voice light. “I see.”

Sarah frowns at your tone anyway. “Why?”

“You tipped five dollars.”

Katie jolts like a scalded cat. “Mom!”

Leroy scrubs a hand over his face. “Sarah…”

“What?” Sarah throws up her hands. The parking lot lights catch on her Swarovski charm bracelet. “I tipped!”

“Like ten percent,” Katie says. She pulls her bucket hat over her eyes for a beat and then peeks at you from under it. “I’m so sorry. It’s not you, she’s always like this.”

“It was actually a six percent tip,” you say. You’re getting a clearer picture of this little family now. It’s becoming more and more understandable why Katie might have started summoning ghosts. “If you want to be precise.”

Leroy reaches for his back pocket. “Let me.”

Sarah swats at his hand. “We’re about to pay her a lot more than that!”

“For a completely separate job,” Leroy says. He pulls a twenty from his wallet and hands it to you with a grimace. “Sorry, Grady, I should’ve checked.”

“You should’ve paid if you cared so much,” Sarah retorts. She folds her arms over her chest. She taps her cheek and widens her eyes. “Oh wait… you never pay.”

“Sure,” Leroy says. This time it’s his turn to throw his hands in the air. “Sure, Sarah. I don’t pay for anything to do with our daughter’s private school or her dance classes or her health insurance—”

“If the court hadn’t mandated—”

“You make twice as much as me—"

“Guys!” Katie says loudly. Her mouth is a thin line of upset when she says, “Argue about what an expensive burden I am later when we don’t have an audience, okay?”

Her parents speak at the same time.

“You’re twisting my words,” Sarah says. “I never said—"

“Sweetie, you’re not a burden—”

“Can you just get this ghost out of me?” Katie asks you. She goes for nonchalance and falls short. “My parents haven’t been in the same room for the last five years for a reason.” She fakes whispering. “They don’t play nicely with others.”

Sarah bristles. “Katie.”

“God, I know how that is,” you say. The whole interaction is giving you the worst case of sympathy for Katie. Before her parents can say anything else, you change the subject. “How long have you been haunted?”

“Six months,” Katie says. She fiddles with her bucket hat so that you can see her eyes for the first time. They’re brown, like her dad’s, and have heavy bruises underneath. She shrugs. “They only noticed a month ago though.”

“I noticed your behavior had changed,” Sarah defends. Like her daughter, she fidgets. She plays with her bracelet and clears her throat. “I thought it was a teenage thing.”

“What signs did you notice first?” you ask the parents. They glance at each other and then away.

“Let’s just say we noticed different things,” Leroy says dryly. He pulls out his phone.

“Moodiness,” Sarah says. She ticks them off on her fingers. “Laziness. Disrespect. Over-sleeping.”

“Those are just teenager things,” Katie says with an astounding level of self awareness. She shrugs. “I’m a senior now. They’re lucky it didn’t start sooner.”

“I,” Leroy says, “noticed this.” He turns his phone towards you.

“Ah,” Sarah says, “Yes. That.”

You examine the picture. It’s of Katie on a small dirt bike. She’s wearing a helmet in the picture, but you recognize the fashion sense in the floral boots she’s wearing. The scene behind her is of the hills, low scrub brush recognizable to someone who’s lived in LA for the past five years. On the bike behind her is a smudge. It could be a cloud of dirt blown into frame or maybe a camera glitch. It could be if it weren’t for the leering face emerging from the cloud right behind her head.

“I just want to say I did not agree to getting her a motorcycle,” Sarah says.

“Mom, not the point,” Katie says.

“Look how close that creep is to my daughter,” Leroy says. He jabs a finger at Katie’s waist in the photo where you can see a ghostly hand. “I want him gone.”

“Dad, he didn’t mean anything by it!” Katie turns to you earnestly. “Terry never rode a bike before and I thought, like, what if he moved on after he got a chance to? It was a philanthropic effort!”

“Plant a tree if you want to be a philanthropist,” Leroy growls. “I want this guy away from my daughter.”

“He doesn’t mean any harm really,” Katie says. “He would move on if he could! He says he’s stuck to me because of how I summoned him. He’s like, really sorry. He even spelled out Sorry in the bathroom mirror once.”

“What,” Sarah says in a dangerous voice, “was Terry doing in the bathroom with you, Katie?”

Katie splutters. “Mom, don’t be gross!”

The family descends into bickering. You have heard about ghosts being stuck to a person before, but usually that’s when the person has some sort of psychic powers. Katie’s wearing crystal in her ears, but they aren’t charged. She might develop some talent later in life, but right now she’s a normal girl.

The parking lost is nearly empty now. You recognize a few employee cars, but very few customers. The kitchen will be cleaning for another half hour before they’re ready to go home.  The reality is that, if Terry is stuck, you might not be the best way to handle the situation. If he’s not…

Well.

It’s time to talk to Terry.

Opening your ghost sense is hard to describe. Some psychics liken it to a third eye, right in the middle of their forehead. You’ve always thought that sounded really cool like maybe the world gets cast in a blue hue when they do it and the dead appear like they do in movies. You’ve met other psychics who say it’s like a sixth sense. They know where the ghost is and it’s like they download all that information until their minds can just sort of conjure their image.

For you, it’s like letting your body remember it has a second mouth. Cats have an extra sensory organ on the roof of their mouth that lets them detect scents better. Your second mouth is a bit like that. You can still smell brownies and garlic and the city air of LA, but you can also smell/taste something else.

Something like…pepper?

Your eyes water and you sneeze so viciously that your eyes close. When you open them again, four people are staring at you in surprise.

“Gesundheit,” Leroy says.

“You sneeze like Dad does,” Katie says.

“Did no one ever teach you to cover your mouth?” Sarah asks in disgust.

“I wish you would’ve sneezed on her,” Terry says, nodding to Sarah. “She’s such a bitch.”

“Thank you for the commentary, everyone,” you say. You wipe your nose with the collar of your shirt as you consider Terry. It’s dirty anyway. “Terry. Interesting name for a ghost.”

Terry hasn’t noticed that you can see him yet. He’s floating behind Katie, one arm casually flung over her shoulder. It’s hard to place when he died based on his appearance alone. His hair is chin length, emphasizing the width of his jaw. Squire cuts have been popular for several decades and the bowling shirt he’s wearing could either be a modern fashion statement or a dated uniform. He looks to be in his mid-twenties, sun-kissed and with the air of someone who tells a lot of jokes at the expense of others. His arm around Katie strikes you as possessive, the glare he gives her parents venomous.

“I didn’t name him,” Katie says. “He said it’s short of Torrance.”

You blink. “Wouldn’t he be Torri then?”

“That’s a girl’s name,” Katie and Terry say at the same time. Their cadence is so close that it actually sounds like Terry’s baritone comes out of Katie’s mouth. For a moment, his arm flickers, clipping into her shoulder like a bad animation. When it does, Terry’s form grows brighter, more solid. Then Katie shivers and he’s forced out of her.

You and Terry click your tongues at the same time.

You remember how Katie’s hands seemed to blur at the dinner table. Terry’s not just haunting Katie. He’s trying to possess her. You wonder if that’s why Katie looked up an exorcist rather than a simple spiritual cleansing. Did she know how much danger she was in?

“Okay,” you say. You tear your attention away from Katie and Terry for a moment. Business first. “Sarah. Leroy. Who was it that found my site?”

“I did,” Sarah says. She raises her chin when you can’t hide your surprise. “When Katie was looking up exorcists—”

“She didn’t mean it,” Terry says. He pats Katie’s hat. “Right?”

“—I looked up alternative solutions,” Sarah says, not having heard Terry. Her confidence falters for a moment and she rubs her arm. “I have had some… negative experiences with exorcisms. I don’t want my daughter to go through that.”

Katie’s head whips towards her mother. “What? I didn’t know that.”

“It was a long time ago,” Leroy says. For the first time, he reaches out and hugs Sarah with one arm. You don’t know what surprises you more; Leroy hugging Sarah or Sarah leaning into his side. “When Sarah told me, we decided to put our differences aside. I vetted you through some of my contacts and they all agreed you’d be a safe bet.”

“I am,” you say. You’re not bragging either. You’re probably the safest bet in half the western states besides your older sister. “There are some…peculiarities in my method.”

“Charlatan,” Terry whispers in Katie’s ear. He’s grinning now. “Only charlatans are that confident. Look! She can’t even see me!”

Katie looks doubtful.

Usually, you’d try to talk to Terry at this point. Sometimes spirits can be negotiated with. They can be encouraged to move on or to take on a less aggressive form of haunting. Those that are truly stuck can be helped with the right sort of ritual work. But the way Terry’s affecting Katie’s mood and that fucking arm around her shoulders…

You don’t really want to talk to Terry.

“We can ask Terry to move on,” you tell the family.

“Nooooooo,” Terry says and flips you off. “Pass!”

“Sometimes spirits don’t realize how deeply they’re affecting their hosts,” you say.

“You don’t even know how deep I’m about to be,” Terry jeers at you.

“Many ghosts are confused when they’re called to interact with the living,” you say. “It can blur their understanding of death and, as a result, they cling to life. If they stick around long enough, their presence will affect the living like what’s happening to Katie. It’s not always malicious. It can be a symptom of that confusion.”

“Katie, tell her to piss off,” Terry hisses in the teen’s ear. “I’m not confused, I’m bored.” His voice deepens. “Tell her we don’t need her help. Tell her we’re going home.”

Katie opens her mouth robotically. “That’s…” Her brow creases as she tries to figure out what she was going to say. “It seems like we don’t need help then. Terry will move on when he’s ready, like I thought.”

“We aren’t paying you for a ghost therapy session,” Sarah snaps. It’s only because you’re really focusing that you can see the unease under her anger. She’s noticed something wrong with Katie. “Katie, Terry is going away today.”

“Fuck you,” Terry says.

“Fuck you,” Katie says.

Leroy’s head rears back. “Katie, you don’t use that language with your mother!”

“Fuck you too,” Katie and Terry say. The parking lot lights flicker.

“No, fuck you, Terry,” you say, stepping between Katie and her parents. Leroy starts like he’s going to pull you out of the way, but he doesn’t.

“Terry?” Leroy asks. He looks scared. “Terry said that? Is Terry possessing my daughter?”

“Not yet.” You eye Terry’s arm and the way his fingers are sinking into Katie’s arm.

“Oh fuck,” Terry says. He doesn’t look scared. Not yet. Instead, he grins. “You can see me.”

“Not every ghost is malicious,” you tell the parents without taking your eyes off Terry. “But some are.”

“I’m not malicious.” Terry runs a hand through his hair, still grinning. The parking lot lights flicker overhead again. “I care about Katie a lot.”

“Terry’s never hurt me,” Katie says.

You ignore her. She’s not even shaking Terry off now. Her gaze is dull on your face when you say, “I don’t mean to sound like I’m some sort of ghost therapist. However, it’s important to differentiate between malicious and non-malicious hauntings in my practice. My methods are unconventional and, if used indiscriminately, I can get in a lot of trouble.”

“We won’t tell anyone,” Leroy says. He steps into your periphery. His gaze flicks from you to the spot you’re staring at over Katie’s shoulder. “We want Terry gone.”

“Not a soul,” Sarah promises. She comes up on your other side. “Please help our daughter.”

“Terry,” you say. Your second mouth is yawning wide somewhere in the back of your brain. The taste of pepper isn’t as overwhelming now. “Last chance. Renounce your claim on Katie’s soul and slither back into whatever hole you came out of.”

“We’re soulmates,” Terry says. He bares his teeth at you. “Go on, Charlatan. Call on your God to banish me. I’ve been around for decades and no exorcist has ever been able to put a scratch on me. And when they manage to push me out?” He laughs and the temperature drops another ten degrees. An unholy light flickers in his eyes. “I just come right back.”

“Then I guess I won’t feel guilty,” you say.

“Guilty?” Katie asks.

You walk forward two steps and grab Terry’s face. Terry’s skin is soft and jelly-like. His facial bones undulate like rubber under your grip. “Hi, Terry.”

Now Terry’s afraid. “What the fuck, you can touch—?”

“Bye, Terry.” You drag him towards you. His fingers pop out of Katie’s arm with a wet sucking sound, and he claws at your wrist.

“Wait! Waitwaitwaitwait--”

You eat Terry.

People come from all around to eat at the Brownie Industry. They love the density of the desserts and the heaps of garlic spread over home-baked (shipped frozen) rolls. It’s a treat to know you’re always going to enjoy the meal even if you’re far from home or eating at the same location a hundred times. It’s consistency, sugar and butter. An easy addiction to have.

Eating ghosts is like that for you. They fizz in your second mouth like champagne and melt like fudge. It’s hard to describe and the ephemeral quality of it sends shivers down your spine. Somewhere Terry is screaming in anguish, maybe crying. You think that the family you’re helping is screaming something too, but the sensation of eating is so consuming you can’t hear the words.

Terry is younger than other ghosts you’ve eaten. He doesn’t have the depth of flavor you’d once been addicted to back in Illinois. The best ghost you’ve ever eaten had been like a six-course meal with all the centuries she’d been carrying. In comparison, Terry is like a bag of pepper chips. Interesting, but gone in a moment. Still, he hits the spot.

When you’re done, you burp a purple cloud of ectoplasm into the still night air.

Leroy is the first to speak. His eyes are so wide you can see the whites all around them. “Pay her, Sarah,” he says breathlessly. His hands shake as he reaches for Katie, steadying her on her feet. “Now.”

You smack your lips and graciously accept the wad of cash Sarah hands you. You raise your eyebrows. “This is more than three times my rate.”

“Consider it a tip,” Sarah says. She’s more composed than Leroy, but still pale. She studies you. “That was…revolting.”

“You didn’t have to watch,” you say. You put your money away and then perk up at a sudden thought. “Hey, if you can, can you leave me a review on my site?”

“I thought you didn’t want us to tell anyone?”

You wave your hand. “Secrets are bad for business. Besides, Terry deserved it. I’m sure they’ll understand if you write that in your review.”

“They…?”

You smile and don’t answer.

The family don’t ask many more questions after that. The parents promise to leave a review and Katie just stares at you as if concussed. You assure the parents that she’ll be back to normal as soon as the soul-shock wears off. 

“And if it doesn’t?” Sarah asks.

“Message me,” you say.

“You don’t check your messages,” Leroy says.

“Oh,” you say, patting your stomach, “I’ll be checking them a lot more often now.”

You’re hungry again.

---

(Patreon)

[monster-disaster]

I have a request for you!

A female reader that is happy-go-lucky and carefree. She frequents a monster brothel very much to the annoyance of the owner, a large gruff skull headed male demon. All the workers outright refuse to accept any payment from her because she's that good of a fuck and they also slack off during work hours to chat with her. She's very amusing and has an infectiously positive attitude, becoming a pseudo therapy dog for them. He considers her a menace to his establishment.

The next time she comes in he gives her an itemized bill and tells her she is barred from entering until she pays up. The workers start making a fuss and his hubris kicks in and makes a bargain. He'll see if she is that good of a fuck, and if he runs out of stamina before her he'll pay for everything.

He's thinking that she's going to end up under him out of energy and breathlessly moaning his name. If only he knew the opposite is going to happen..…

Dear Anon, I love your brain.

demon!Ezek x human!Reader Good to know: smut

The demon stands outside, framed by the dim glow of a flickering streetlamp. His arms are crossed over his chest, muscles straining the fabric of his shirt as he watches you round the corner. His dark, angular face twists into a scowl at the sight of you walking towards him with a spring in your step, light and easy as if you are simply meeting an old friend rather than the very creature who sent you away with a hefty bill only weeks ago. His sharp eyes narrow with suspicion, and annoyance rolls off his spine in waves. Yet, when your gaze meets his, you flash him a grin, bright and carefree. Your lipstick glints under the light of the setting sun still peaking out between the tall buildings. The glow gives you an orange blush that makes the deep color of your eyes shine with something that makes him grumble.

"Little pest," he greets you with a grunt. "I thought you wouldn't come."

The curve of your lips turns sly as you peek at him through your eyelashes. "You thought wrong," you tell him. "I missed my boys too much not to come, anyway."

Your words hit their mark. The tight frown etched into his bony features deepens at the use of your words. He almost scoffs. His annoyance lingers in the air, but he says nothing, only stares at you with that simmering, barely contained displeasure.

Your boys...

And he can't even argue with that. Ever since he sent you away with that bill, his men have treated him like the enemy rather than their boss. They grumble under their breath, shooting him looks like he is a storm cloud hanging over their heads. They have become a flock of offended hens, huffing and puffing whenever they catch sight of him. Their loyalty to you has been a thorn in his side ever since.

You have been the thorn in his side ever since you first set foot in his brothel years ago, slipping through the front door like a breeze that none of them saw coming. You charmed your way into his men's good graces, winning over their hearts with a flick of your little finger. It got to the point where his men wouldn't even accept your money, brushing off your attempts to pay with dismissive waves and toothy grins. It was a rare sight, seeing the lot of them, usually gruff and hardened, melting under your influence like snow under a warm sun. They'd offer you drinks on the house, pull up chairs beside you for conversations, and treat you like one of their own, much to his growing frustration. He’d seen how their eyes would light up when you arrived, and the playful banter that used to fill the rooms whenever you were around. To them, you were a welcome break from the usual grind, but to him, you were nothing but a nuisance, one he couldn’t quite seem to rid himself of no matter how many times he tried to draw boundaries.

"Come, then," the demon rumbles, jerking his head toward the entrance before opening it in front of you with a rough motion. The hinges creak in protest, blending into the noises of the traffic around.

"Where are the others?" you ask immediately, your gaze sweeping over the empty, dimly lit hall as you step through the doorway.

"I sent them home."

The deal he made with you spread through the brothel within a few hours. The whispers and knowing glances bounced from one monster to another like wildfire, and before the demon knew it, the place was unbearable with the sneaky exchanges. He felt like the butt of a joke, and he couldn't stand it any longer.

"Oh," you reply. The disappointment in your voice only adds fuel to his growing annoyance. "I wanted to ask Blake how his family gathering went."

Ezek scowls down at you. His features, all bones, seem haunting. The deep crimson of his skin darkens as he glares. "What?" he asks, irritated. Then, he shakes his head dismissively. "Don't answer. I don't care."

You huff in answer. "Rude."

He rolls his eyes, exhaling sharply as he gestures for you to follow him. The impatience buzzes beneath his taut skin, making his movements rigid while he leads you down the corridor. Each step he takes is purposeful as if he is trying to outrun his annoyance simmering just below the surface.

After he’d had enough of his men’s antics, he finally made the decision to call you. He swore he felt Hell freezing over when you answered the line, all chirpy and upbeat as usual. It was infuriating how effortlessly you managed to sound cheerful when he was at his wit's end at the brothel.

"What can I do for you?"

Ezek snarled before he forced the words out of his mouth. "I have a deal for you."

His idea was simple: you could come and go as you pleased for free, as long as you showed him why the monsters who were supposed to work for him and generate profit acted like you were the one who owned the place. It was a way for him to regain some semblance of control while getting rid of you for good.

"I will be there," you agreed.

The room he chose is simple, with low lights that cast a warm, inviting glow all over. Neatly arranged sheets lie atop the bed, their sweet scent filling the air and mingling with the subtle hints of something floral and fresh.

"I need the bathroom first," you say, already putting down your purse and making your way to the other door.

"Sure," the male grunts in reply with a hint of disinterest in his voice as he loosens a few buttons of his shirt. The fabric parts, revealing a glimpse of his skin.

He settles down on the bed, leaning back against the plush headboard while waiting for you. He can hear you moving around, and without realizing it, he steals glances toward the bathroom, his mind racing with thoughts he can't quite pin down. You are a lively little thing, radiating so much brightness that he has no choice but to feel both frustrated and intrigued at the same time. It doesn’t matter, though. After this night, he will show you that you have no place here, and everyone can move on without making his life impossible. The thought solidifies in his mind. He’s determined to reclaim his authority, to restore order among the chaos you've brought. This night will serve as a reminder to both you and his men that while your presence may be captivating, it’s also fleeting, a temporary distraction that he intends to put an end to.

When you appear at the doorway a few minutes later, he can’t help but be surprised at the sight of you. He expected you to go all out to impress him, but instead, you are clad in nothing but simple white underwear that fits snugly over your curves. Ezek feels a mix of admiration and irritation stir within him as he lets his gaze rake over your soft body. It’s disarming, and he can’t shake the feeling that you are effortlessly turning the tables on him, challenging his resolve in ways he hadn’t anticipated.

"What do you think?" you ask him with a big smile on your face. You twirl around to show him more, though there isn’t much to reveal when it comes to your underwear. It looks soft and comfortable, but his attention is quickly drawn to the plush curve of your ass before you turn back to face him. "I bought it just yesterday."

For a long second, Ezek is silent, taking in the sight of you. Did you really buy this for tonight? But he doesn’t voice any of this, though. While you’re nothing but an annoying little pest in his life, he has no desire to hurt your feelings or damage your self-esteem. Besides, he knows his men would burn him alive if they sensed he’d crossed that line. Instead, he clenches his jaw, torn between frustration and a reluctant admiration for your naiveness.

"You look stunning."

And he isn’t lying. Your natural confidence shines brighter than any lingerie ever could. The soft glow of your skin under the dim lights enhances your allure, and he can’t tear his eyes away from the thin fabric of your bra, clinging to you and showing off your hard nipples. It’s a sight that pulls his focus, stirring something deep within him that he’s too annoyed to confront. Even in something so simple, you manage to captivate him in a way he didn’t expect, and it leaves him grappling with a newfound awareness of just how potent your presence can be.

Moving on the bed, Ezek lets his legs fall onto the plush carpet as he leans slightly onto his knees.

"Come here," he commands, locking his gaze onto yours the whole time.

Maybe he is struggling to find his footing in this situation, but he sure won’t let you lead this dance between the two of you.

_

His long fingers grip your hips with bruising force, digging into the soft skin as he struggles to find control. It’s as if he can’t decide whether to stop you or urge you to move faster, making you bounce harder on his lap. It feels like his brain shut down the moment you climbed onto his lap an hour ago, and now all he can focus on is the heat of your body. Your warmth presses into him in a way that makes it impossible to think straight. Every shift of your body and every roll of your hips sends a fresh jolt through him, and he’s not sure if it’s pleasure or frustration that makes his grip tighten even more. Probably both. His breath comes out ragged, catching in his chest as he tries to steady himself, but it's a losing battle. Every time he thinks he is regaining control, you shift or press closer, and the edges of his thoughts blur again.

You are on his lap, riding him with a relentless rhythm. Your warm, slick heat envelopes him with every bounce. The sound of your bodies colliding, skin slapping against skin, fills the otherwise quiet room, blending with the soft creak of the bed beneath you. If Ezek could muster even a shred of sanity, he’d be irritated by the rhythmic noise. He sure will change every bed in this damn brothel the moment he can think again. But right now, every coherent thought slips through his grasp like sand. His fingers press deeper into your soft flesh, trying to steady you, or perhaps himself, as each movement sends a fresh surge of pleasure through him. It’s maddening, the way you ride him, guiding the pace with a confidence that both frustrates and excites him.

"Ezek," you moan above him. The high, desperate sound wraps around him like a vice, pulling tight, and he feels his erection jerk inside your wet, clenching heat.

A low growl rumbles from his chest. His teeth grind together at the way you moan his name, and then your hands slip from the headboard to wrap around his horns. The sudden, sharp tug on his skull makes his vision go white-hot at the edges as a shudder of raw sensation courses down his spine. His hips buck upward in a frantic, uncontrolled thrust that has him driving deeper inside you. The pressure of your grip on his horns leaves him reeling, forcing out another growl from deep in his throat as his body responds to you in ways he can’t quite rein in. He holds you down, forcing you to stay tight and snug around his cock as he grinds his hips up into you. He can feel the slick warmth of his previous release as it seeps out of your used hole, dripping around the base of his cock with every thrust. The sensation is filthy, spurring him on further to push into you with a rough determination that leaves your pussy clenching around him.

"Fuck," the demon snarls, his voice rough and guttural as he pushes himself up on the bed.

He moves with a sudden, feral urgency, crowding you beneath his larger frame. With a swift motion, he flips you onto your stomach, forcing your chest down into the rumpled sheets while your surprised squeal echoes in the room. His palm presses down firmly on the small of your back, pinning you in place as he shifts one of your legs to the side, spreading you open. The position leaves your pussy swollen and easily accessible.

"Ezek!" His name falls from your lips like a breathless plea as he drives into you again. Your body arches instinctively, responding to the overwhelming pleasure. His hips snap forward with an animalistic force. Each stroke is deep and unrelenting as if he’s determined to imprint himself into every part of you. You can feel him everywhere, the heat of his body against yours, the way his presence fills the space around you, making it feel both electric and consuming.

The male leans over you, his breath is hot against your ear as he growls. "Cum around me, Y/N." The weight of his body presses down. Your ass is soft and plush against his pelvis. Each thrust drives him deeper, pushing you closer to the edge.

The demon's muscles are taut as he holds himself above you. He can feel the familiar tingle at the base of his spine, a sign that he is nearing his own release. His balls pull tight, the need to fill you up almost primal, urging him on with a ferocity that makes his heart race. He digs his fingers into the sheets, anchoring himself as he quickens his pace.

“Y/N,” he growls, his voice low and raw. "Let go for me."

The tight, urging command is the final push you need. He swears he could break his own teeth by the force he closes his mouth as your warm pussy clutches and pulses around him. The feeling of you milking his already sensitive cock snaps the molten heat pooling low in his stomach. It’s as if every nerve ending in his body ignites at once, stealing his breath away for several long seconds. The tight grip of your warmth around him pushes him to the brink, and he can't help but growl as he feels his release barreling toward him, unstoppable.

With a final, deep thrust, he lets go, filling you completely as he shudders in ecstasy. Thick spurts of his cum paint your tightening walls. The warmth of him floods you in waves that send shockwaves of pleasure coursing through both of you. He can feel the pearly white liquid drip down, smearing over your joined skin.

As he finally catches his breath, he collapses onto the bed next to you, chest heaving and the world still spinning. For a long while, both of you lie sprawled out on the bed, the air warm and thick with the mingled scent of your arousal. He turns his head to glance at you, and a small smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. The dim light casts a soft glow across your features, highlighting the contentment etched on your face. It’s a sight that sends a wave of satisfaction through him.

He takes a moment to soak it all in.

Until you break the silence.

“Do you think if I give you some time, you’ll be ready for another round?” you ask, propping yourself up on your elbows. Your voice is hoarse, yet as cheerful and bright as ever.

The question catches the demon off guard, leaving him momentarily breathless as he stares at you in disbelief. “Wha'?”

You shrug with a playful glint in your eyes. “You are better than I thought.”

The praise ignites a fire within him, causing his blood to boil. His usual scowl returns, hardening the sharp lines of his features as he processes your words.

For a few silent seconds, you hold his gaze, tilting your head slightly as if trying to decipher his reaction. “That’s a no?”

The demon groans, frustration creeping into his voice as he glances up at the ceiling. “Go and find your boys.”

“And what if I do that thing with my tongue again?” you ask. The sultry tilt in your voice sends a jolt of arousal and pain through his already spent cock, making it twitch in response.

Well, call him a machoist... "Give me ten minutes."

He will hear about this from the others anyway when you saunter into the brothel, so why shouldn't he enjoy it while he can?

[please-picturemeintheweeds]

Me finishing up a long talk about labor politics and how airport 🛩️ workers should strike next -> logging on to girlblog about my favorite jet setting pop star Taylor Swift ✨🦄🎆💖⚡️ because having a fandom tumblr account or not isn’t actually praxis 🌹💪🏻👩‍🌾

[inkdrinkerworld]

hi!! i saw your requests were open but i was wondering if you’d do a high maintenance reader w any of the marauders?? i just realized that i got my hair done, my eyelashes done, my nails done, and a facial all within a week and now im crying because i can’t afford my lifestyle, and also because i didn’t realize i was considered high maintenance until now :/

“We’re not having this conversation again, angel.” James says as he holds your hand on the walk back to the car.

You frown, catching a glimpse at your nails and smiling before frowning again. “But Jamie, it’s every month!”

He opens the back door for you, letting you slide in before he gets in himself.

Remus is driving while Sirius sits in the passenger seat, hair held back a bun that’s not very effective but makes him all the more handsome.

“It’s not a problem, sweet girl.” James steals a kiss. “We don’t mind.” Remus catches a glimpse at you in the rear view mirror.

“What’s wrong dove?” You pout, not really upset with them but upset at what you realized halfway through your nail appointment.

“All three of you always pay for my things,” All the boys frown, they don’t see the issue. You sigh, your fists banging on your exposed knees under your skirt.

“Every time I have an appointment, one of you comes just to pay. Doesn’t that make you feel gross? Like you’re just here to maintain me?”

Sirius turns to face you first. He’s not the best with words, but he’s always able to get to you faster than the other boys.

“Why would we feel gross about taking care of you? You’re not a thing to maintain and even if we do pay for your things it doesn’t mean it’s a burden.”

Remus nods at Sirius’ words, “We don’t come just to pay either. We like seeing you get all dolled up, lovely girl. It’s a treat for us as much as it is for you.”

You roll your eyes, disbelieving, “Just this week, I’ve done my hair, had a facial, got waxed and did my nails and you all paid for something.”

Remus nods, driving effortlessly while holding your eyes in the rear view. “We like taking care of you dove. You never ask for us to do it, we just do because it makes us feel good.”

James nods, lips to your temple. “It does. So what if you go do a million procedures a month? Just as long as we get to finance it.”

You sigh long and hard, “But it’s so much.”

Remus shakes his head, voice soothing even as he maneuvers the car through traffic, “Baby, we all argue about who gets to pay for what. It’s not too much for us, we want to keep doing it.”

Sirius cuts you a hard look from the passenger side when he catches your eye roll, “Poppet,” he leans around the seat to look you in the eyes. “We like maintaining you. We like spending our money on you when you want to do something, that’s not an issue to us, got it?”

James speaks softly when you don’t answer, “S’like Remus said, angel. No sense in making yourself feel bad for something we’d practically fight each other to do, yeah?”

You nod, a little bashful under his gaze and when he beckons you forward with his chin, you nearly scramble across the middle seat to kiss him.

Sirius’ hands tangle in your hair and you pull away, “I just got it done yesterday, Siri.” He smiles, all wicked and best pleased.

“And you look all the more gorgeous.” He steals another kiss just as Remus pulls up to your brunch destination. “Now c’mon, we’ve got to show you off after all this.”

Remus turns your face before you get too far, stealing a couple kisses for himself. “No more worrying about us taking care of you, yeah?”

You’re dazed and kisses silly, “Yeah, Remmy.” James gets his kisses last and you have to wait ten minutes in the backseat before getting out with any of them while you hide a smile.

[prettyboykatsuki]

objects in the mirror | j. togame

✮ tags ; afab!reader + fem!reader, reader is so painfully dense / naive, ambiguous relationships, friends to ???, somewhat unrelieved sexual tension, sex toys, guided masturbation kinda, kissing, groping, nipples play, squirting, dialogue heavy, vaguely post canon, petnames (kame-chan and jo-chan for togame, baby for reader) 18+

✮ wc ; 6.4k (you have got to be fucking with me)

✮ a/n ; the one fic i wont be mad if you ask for part two on lolol. title from a mac miller song (my favorite mac miller song) that reminds me of a lot of characters but i felt really fit this fic.

go listen to it. his best track. also this like... mega got away from me. togame sorry for blueballing you.

✮ synopsis ; your only goal is to have a half-way decent orgasm. togame, as your best friend, is determined to help you reach it.

"So," Togame leans back into your bed. "You bought a vibrator and... can't use it? Because you keep psyching yourself out?"

"Yeah," You sigh with your head hung low. "Paid good money for it and it's collecting dust in my drawer. I'm miserable."

Togame smiles a little from where he's laid across the width of your bed, back propped up against the wall slightly with his legs hanging off one edge. You kick his side lightly as he fails to contain his amusement.

"Do you enjoy seeing me suffer, huh? You take amusement in my pain, you bastard?"

"Pfft," He snickers, turning a little to face you better. "It's kinda hard not too. Just seems..."

"You think it's stupid," You frown. He scratches his jaw.

"I wouldn't say that. A little silly but—"

"Which is another word for stupid," You point out. He shakes his head.

"The connotations different. Stupid would mean I'm insulting you. I don't think it's stupid. Ridiculous, maybe." And then he laughs to himself like a jackass. "No... I take it back. It's definitely ridiculous."

"You asshole. I should kick you out of my house."

He smiles knowingly, lazy and bemused. "You're not gonna,"

Smug bastard. You groan in defeat. "But I should."

He doesn't reply, brushing you off as easy as ever. "Sorry. Just not sure what exactly you want me to do with that information."

You throw your hands up in the air. "I dunno? Fucking help me. Offer solutions. Use whats left of your brain after getting the shit beat out of you as a teenager. Something."

"Now who's being an asshole." He quips. You frown.

"I'm sorry," You say easily. Togame smiles softly though you miss it while you're looking away. "But...ugh."

"Got such a way with words." He hums sarcastically before sobering a touch. He's scrolling through his phone not entirely paying attenion. "I don't really get why you're askin' me. Don't you have better candidates for this conversation?"

You give him a long-suffering look. "No. Unfortunately I live here, so the answer is not really. I can't talk to Kotoha or Tsubaki about this. We talk about guys and stuff but it's usually pretty PG."

"So I'm your stand in for a girl best friend?"

You tilt your head. "Huh? No. You're just my best friend. I would bitch to you about this either way."

He stares at you for a long while before scrubbing a hand down his face. You can't understand his sudden reaction, watching in confusion as he takes a deep breath.

"Right. Right, I'm your best friend." Togame mutters mostly to himself, sighing before going back to his usual demeanor. He rubs his under his eye. "Really dunno what you're asking for. You can whine however much you want, though."

"I'm not whining," You pause before sighing again. "Okay. Maybe I am whining, like, a little. But you would too if you were me, okay? I want to..." You make a face, the words suddenly feeling clumsy on your lips. You're not even doing anything and you're getting all weird about it. "I just wanna...cum."

Togame pauses. He sits up, sort of suddenly after that and finally has the decency to take off his boots. He scoots to the edge of the bed with his feet on the floor to do it, and you can't see his face when he speaks again. You don't think twice about it.

"Have you not? Like... ever?"

"Huh? No, I have but it's not really satisfying. It doesn't scratch the itch for me, you know? That's what the toy was for."

Togame takes another minute or two of silence as he takes off his boots. You wonder if it always takes him so long to take them off. Seems inconvenient.

He goes back to laying down, leaning on the wall with his legs spread out. "What kinda toy is it anyway?

"Oh, it's—" You stop in the middle of your sentence, brow furrowing. "Wait. Should I be telling you this?"

"Are you suddenly gaining self-awareness? Little late for that." He smiles.

"That's true," You reply, relaxing again with your arms crossed. "Nothing complicated. A rabbit vibrator, but the kinda expensive ones."

"How much?"

"Twelve-thousand yen. I got it on sale too,"

"No wonder you're so peeved you can't use it," Togame comments evenly. "A lot of money to be collecting dust. You even take it out the box?"

You deflate all over again. "Yeah. Charged it. Cleaned it too. But I put it back."

"Lemme see,"

"Huh? Oh, okay. Sure."

You don't bother asking why Togame wants to see your sex toy. It doesn't occur to you that there'd be any reasons outside of plain curiosity which you can understand. Togame dated a girl long-term so he knows some things, but you figure any girl with a decent boyfriend wouldn't need to make the same use of toys as you do. It'd make sense he's never seen one up close and personal.

You scoot to the edge of the bed and lean slightly as you open the side drawer and pull the toy out where it sits in nice, cardboard package. You pass it off to Togame before sitting back comfortably against your headboard.

He sits the box in his lap and stares at it for a long while.

You wonder if this is weird.

It doesn't bother you much either way, but it it is...

Odd, just how long Togame stares at it. He undoes the top of the folded box, pulling it back to reveal the soft, baby blue vibrator. It's six inches long and curved, with a soft rubber attachment to stimulate your clit and angle for your g-spot at the same time. Made with a high quality velveteen silicone. It has a lot of settings, and does the sort of rumbly vibrations you know feel good as opposed to the mechanical buzz of cheaper kinds.

Completely unused, Togame holds in his hands for a while, grabbing it by the ends. He doesn't touch it in a way that's weird. More like he assesses it. Measures it. You don't know for what though.

"It's cute."

"Huh?"

"The vibrator, I mean." Togame comments, putting it back in the box. His expression is unreadable. Something simmers under the surface of his neutral face but you can't place what exactly. "It's a cute color and the little pointed part here is cute."

You place a hand on your chest and close your eyes in sincerity. "Thank you. I also think I have excellent aesthetic taste."

Another pause. Brief but not.

"Do you want help using it?"

"Wha—"

"The vibrator," Togame clarifies before you get through the rest of your sentence. "Do you want me to help you use it?"

Your mind blanks. Your mouth moves faster than you can.

"...In what way?"

Togame remains steady. "Getting you comfortable and putting in you. As far as solutions go, it's the best I've got."

...Huh?

"Wouldn't that be awkward for you?"

"Is it awkward for you?" Togame replies back.

You stop to consider the question then shake your head.

"I mean...It's you. I trust you and I'm grateful but this..." You furrow your brow and look towards him. "Can you really do something like that with me? Just to help me?"

"Yeah." He replies. The words come so easily to him you're startled. Was he always this casual? You guess in a way but still. It's surprising. "It's the most direct route to solve your problem, I think. Once you've done it once with someone else, you'll definitely be able to do it alone right?"

You reason about this and find it's a somewhat optimal solution. You can't figure out the exact source of your unease about all of it, though it's there. You can't figure out Togame either. You appreciate how much he seems to want to help you but it doesn't make your worries go away.

You frown a little deeper.

"You're thinking about it too hard." Togame interjects. His tone is warm and easy.

"You're not thinking about it hard enough," You respond back. "What are you trying to do anyway? To help."

"Scratch the itch for you. Just think of it like that."

"Does that do anything for you?"

He dodges the question. "Don't worry about me. I'm offering. Promise it's fine."

You frown with your legs crossed, staring at the empty space of the bed. "...I g-guess it's fine? I can't think of a reason to say no."

"You don't mind doing this with me? Or is it because you're okay with anyone?"

You shake your head.

"What are you saying? Of course it's because you're the one asking. I trust you."

He smiles genuinely at that, eyes closed in what seems like relief. "I just wanted to make sure."

Togame opens his eyes again and casts them your way. Your breathing feels shallow under the weighted glance. He sits up a little more and shrugs his jacket off his shoulders, placing it on the pillow next to you. He feels broader without the layer of fabric over his torso, white shirt stretching over his frame as he sits on the bed on his knees.

"Lay down. Get comfortable."

You nod, adjusting the pillows and things and trying not to feel self-conscious or get cold feet. It speaks to your desperation that you're taking this help so willingly and from your long time best friend no less. In the back of your head, you do feel a little strange.

Togame is just being a good friend, that's what you tell yourself. You believe it too.

He hovers above you first. You tilt your head to look at him, the short gap of space between you feeling particularly small while also being miles wide. Your stomach flutters as Togame's eyes fix on your lips.

He leans forward and presses his mouth to yours. It's chaste. You wonder if you look even half as surprised as you feel.

"What was that for?"

"Breaking the ice."

You mumble. "Oh..."

Togame kisses you again that time, and then one more time before speaking up. "You're so naive."

"Huh? No I'm not,"

He brushes you off again that time before sitting up again. He sits between your legs where you have them spread. You have no idea what he's thinking or why he's doing this.

Unlike most people, you usually do have a good read on what Togame is feeling. He's upfront most of the time, despite his posturing seeming wishy-washy. It's a little weird to feel so out of bounds around him, like he purposely has his guard up. You wonder if that guard is for you, or for him. Is he uncomfortable somehow? Is he trying not to hurt your feelings by not being interested? You're not really expecting that.

But if that were the case, there's no reason he would help you this way.

Before you get too entranced in your thoughts, Togame snaps you out of them.

"How do you normally do this?"

You blink and look up.

"Do what?"

"Get off," Togame answers. Your eyes meet and you find yourself wanting to look away. "You said it was unsatisfying so I thought it'd be better if we started there,"

"Uhm," You feel embarrassed trying to talk about this. You're not sure why. It's not something you'd feel self-conscious outside this specific context but Togame just seems more... intense then usual. Like he's being serious about your silly problem. "D-depends? Sometimes I watch porn or listen to audios or read. Not always."

"Got it. How do you touch yourself then?"

He looks expectant. You turn your head to look away from him. The minutes tick by.

"Uhm... just rubbing my c-clit usually. I have uhm, other toys I'll use sometimes too but I need to touch my clit to get off." You wonder if these are too many details. Togame is listening to it so carefully. "Uhm. If i-its too sensitive I'll touch over my clothes too. Sometimes I cum like that."

His face shifts. It lingers long enough for you to notice but not enough for you to process what it was. He's back to his usual self so quickly you wonder if you've made the entire thing up.

"Right. I think I know what your problem is,"

You feel a little relieved at that. "Really?"

He pauses before smiling a little with a friendly nod that reminds you of how you were when you were kids, a face that's unexpectedly kind. "Really."

You look at him expectantly.

"I think you're not building up to it enough." Togame comments, smoothly. You blink at him. "You're a girl, you know? Can't jump straight into it, you need to stimulate yourself more first and relax. You're so focused on cumming it backfires. I'll help you."

"How...?"

"I'll help you relax and help you figure out what you like. Don't think about it too hard and focus on feeling good."

"You really don't have to do this for me," You mumble. He smiles at you.

"C'mon. You just said I was your best friend right? I don't mind, so chill out and let me help."

"Okay," You nod, bright eyed. "Okay....thank you."

He makes a face at you before nodding. "Uh-huh. Of course."

Togame hovers above you with lazy smile. You close your eyes on instinct as you feel your lips press together. His lips are softer than you thought they'd be. A hand cups the back of your neck and brings you closer to him. The weight of his body makes you self-conscious about his proximity. You can smell the scent of his skin, feel his presence surround you as he kisses you soft to start.

The shift in the air surrounding you is gradual in a way that reminds you so much of Togame. He's not intense at the beginning, never is really is - but then his hand goes to hold your knees and pull your legs up. His tongue slips against the closed seam of your lips until they part, until he touches yours and you have to reconfigure how you breathe. He's so good at kissing you it makes you wonder if he's kissed you before and you can't remember. But then it feels good and you're reminded—

If it felt this good there's no way you would've forgotten it.

When you pull away for air to breathe, or start to stumble through a question on how this is helping - Togame shuts you up. It takes it happening twice for you realize it's deliberate. Every time he kisses you a little deeper, and the last time he slips his tongue in so far you'd think he's trying to eat you whole.

You're wet. You're unsure if you're allowed to feel guilty about it, or if you're even meant too. Anyone would be turned on getting kissed like this. You're really unsure about all of this but you're fine because it's Togame. There's no way he'd do anything bad to you or for you.

He's over protective in general, though he's rarely frank about it.

(If you were any less clueless, you'd would know that most times Togame is doing his best to protect from himself. Most times, he feels like the biggest danger to you)

Togame pulls away from your lips when you moan a little. You feel embarrassed at the state your left in and how he looks at you. Picking you apart in his mind but not with ill intent. Like he wants to know every thread of your want.

Again, you think he's going to tease you. Light but still teasing.

"Does that feel good?"

It's a serious question. It stuns you. Just a little. His hand on the back of neck feels hot. You notice the way his thumb caresses your nape and try not to stutter.

"Uh..y-yeah." You reply, trying not to look stupid. "I like kissing. Uhm. In general."

He doesn't react to that, nods in a way you find curt in comparison to how passionately he was kissing you just moments ago. "It'll help you relax." And then, a little softly. "If you want to kiss again and we're not already, ask."

An odd request but you acquiesce with another soft noise.

"Do you feel a little warmed up?"

His eyes are so strangely shaded in this light. You open your mouth to the awkward confession. "Oh... nn. I'm... y-yeah. I'm wet already."

"From kissing?"

You give him a sheepish look. Togame responds with another kiss that makes you feel like you're being driven into a corner. This one is hot and heavy, doesn't build up but starts with an almost oppressive air. He nips at you, teeth tugging at your lips and licking in earnest to your mouth. Long and deep until your brain feels melty, your thoughts swimming and clouded. Longing for touch and release. Arousal threads through the fibers of your muscles, makes you feel wound up tight - a serpents coil. You clench your thighs on instinct at the worsening wetness.

Your mouth feels swollen and bitten when you pull away again and Togame looks a little more like you're used to him looking. An underlying sense of smug self-satisfactions on his face as he looks down at you, not outweighed by his genuine ease.

A look on his face like he likes your company. You find him comforting in how easy it is to see.

"Is it okay to touch you in other places?"

"Uhm. Anywhere above the belt is fine, I think."

"Makes sense,"

He leans up and slides both hands underneath your hoodie. You're not really prepared for... this. You don't know if you can call it sex or not but whatever it is, you weren't intending for it to happening.

"You're not wearing a shirt," His hands feel so big on your waist. Big and calloused, split skin scarred over from fighting. "A bra?"

"A sports bra."

"Right."

He slides your hoodie up over your torso until it's bare and takes your sports bra along with it in one go. Your tits fall from them with a soft swish with how quick he does it, the light bounce making your skin grown hot. Togame hovers above you as he eyes them, palms just underneath but not touching.

"Stop looking so hard."

He brushes past that. "They're nice."

"Shut up," You say for the first time. Togame smiles slightly.

"Not a nice way to talk to someone who's helping you," He says sarcastically. You pout but refuse to apologize. He remains unbothered then goes back to being alarmingly serious. "Do you play with them?"

"H-huh? When I masturbate? Not really. I've never thought too."

"Why's that?"

You shrug. "The guys I dated used to touch them but it mostly felt weird, not good. Never thought of trying on my own."

He gives you a looking asking for permission. You nod. This really does not feel normal but the arousal clouding your brain is a lot louder than your sense of shame.

Togame's hands slide up your sides until he's cupping the roundness of your chest. His thumbs hover against hardened nipples, constrained in the touch. It's different than how other guys have done it for you. He's paying attention to that bit most, and he's going about it softly. Pushing the hardened bud with a light flick that sends a jolt of shock through your body.

He's quick to notice your reaction, green eyes flickering up before doing it again. You squirm, stretching your legs and shifting as another tick of arousal goes through your whole body. Your clit is starting to throb so much it hurts. If it were you, you would've started touching yourself a long while ago. As soon as you felt yourself get wet.

Togame is taking his time, though. And you're feeling it so much it's a little shameful for you. He does it again, touching your nipples - both side at the same time. Your body is pushing for more.

You've managed to keep the noise down but you're pushed over your usual limits. A moan spills from your lips as you push up into his touch. "That's good, huh? Just needed it a little softer and more focused."

You try not to be any more embarrassing. Wouldn't anyone feel weird over this?

He's the most important person in your entire life, and he's seeing you like this. Not judging you, just remaining even and consistent. Teasing you but not enough to make you upset. He's being so careful. Is this the kind of boyfriend he is? You think that must make him popular, so then... why does it never work out? He's never dated anyone longer than a year.

But he's being so sweet to you despite not dating. He's always kind but this is different. You can't imagine who would see this part of him and break up.

You try not to think about any of this but the only other thing you can focus on is him rubbing your nipples and how nice it feels. The moan of his name is pitchy, sounds foreign to your own ears with how high and broken it is.

"Kame-chan," Your voice is warbly when you ask. You just want to stop thinking. "Kiss?"

He pauses. You think he's going to deny you at first.

"Fuck. That ain't fair, you know?"

You don't know what he means, but he complies and kisses you open mouthed as he plays with your tits. Rubs and flicks them just the way you like. It feels so good. You've never felt anything like it before. Your tummy flutters, honeyed lust dripping down your inner thighs.

Your body moves on it's own, your hands carding through his hair as arousal starts to pool. Your panties feels soaked and sticky, through the fabric. You shift again trying to relieve the feeling, brain scrambled by Togame's touch.

You're so horny you can't make sense of anything. Your body is a relentless echo of your wants and needs - demanding attention. His attention, specifically. Need curls up in your chest.

Between kisses you confess this to Togame, who you trust now more than ever despite feeling so incredibly vulnerable. How could you not go with it when he's taking such good care of you?

"Wanna cum so bad," You mutter, sloppy between kisses. Togame takes in a deep breath as he pulls away.

"You think you're worked up enough for it?"

You see through him instantly even in your haze. "Don't be mean to me, you jerk."

"Caught me, huh? Okay, okay. How do you normally do this?"

"Do what?"

"Fuck yourself with something,."

The words send heat sparking against your spine. You tuck your face against his jacket where it's laying besides you and huff. It smells like him. "Ngh. Usually finger myself a little first."

"Got a good idea then." He hums. The sound of his voice, low and smooth, makes you feel comforted. "I'll lay next to you and help keep you distracted while you open yourself up, yeah? Nothing below the belt 'n all. And when you're already I'll put in for you and turn it on."

You sniff. "Okay."

He smiles at you, pulling his hands and body away from you before laying besides you instead. He lets you rest your head against his arm and shoulders - sneaking the rest of his arm around and underneath you, squeezing one of your tits. He presses your body into him and gropes around the bed for the box with your toy, grabbing it from inside before shoving it away.

Up close, you can feel his muscles even better than you could. You wonder how someone so relaxed could be this built but try not to let it burden your brain. He smells so nice. Did he always? You feel too horny to remember, but you like it.

You can feel him glancing down at you, amused.

"Comfy?" Togame's voice vibrates through your whole body.

"Uh-huh."

"If you turn your head towards me I can kiss you and touch you. Keep your mind occupied a bit."

"Oh. That makes sense."

"It does right? Go ahead and start."

You think you should tell him not to watch. Keeps his eyes for himself. But the focus of his gaze makes you burn so much hotter you don't bother. He's already seen so much, anyway.

You shimmy out of your sweat pants until they're down at your ankles revealing your panties. Baby blue printed boyshorts, fabric soaked until they look a nearly new navy shade. You feel his laughter less than you hear it, turning your head to glare at him. He smiles a little at you.

"Those are cute too," Togame comments. You can hear his voice so clearly like this you think you'll collapse if you pay too much attention to it. "Too bad you made 'em all messy."

You swallow a sound, too horny to protest. He stops you before you can take your panties off.

"Didn't you say you normally touch over the fabric when you're sensitive? Do that."

"But—"

"Just trust me," He promises. He kisses your hair. Your heart thuds when he does it. It's an innocent gesture. "It'll make it more satisfying, okay?"

Your shaky as you spread yourself a little wider and slip your hand down between your legs. All the desire you're holding starts to unwind as your middle finger slides over the soaked seam of your cotton panties. They're cuter than normal, printed with florals and lace trimmed. Absolutely drenched in your arousal. You rub a small circle into your clit and your whole body breaks out into shivers, your eyes fluttering closed at the sensation.

You could cum like this. Just from this. But you want something more, something better so you force yourself to go slow.

"It's messy," Togame hums, nonchalant. "You get easier than I thought you would. Are you going slow so you don't cum right away?"

"Don't point it out, aah,"

"You should cum if you want too," Togame suggests.

"No," You whine. "Wanna cum with the toy."

"Wanna cum with a cock inside you, ya mean? A silicone one but still. Not enough to just touch yourself, you need something more, is that it?"

He says the words so casually, so lightly. Almost friedly despite how filthy they are. There's no malice in them.

Spoken like high praise or affection. The kind you'd show a kitten,.

"Kame—"

"Didn't know your had such a need pussy. No wonder it's hard to cum all by yourself, huh?"

"Stop being mean," You gasp. "I'll cum,"

He laughs at that. It's genuine and bright.

"Too much for ya, huh? S'okay. Take these off now. Finger yourself. Make sure you get all that mess you made so we can use on your toy. It'll hurt if it's dry going in."

You feel blindsided by just how much Togame is talking. He's been so quiet, so brief and unreadable. He feels like his usual self too much, to your complete detriment. His voice is teasing, yet warm and sweet. He smells good and he's pressing you all against his chest. Your fingers tremble as you slide your panties down to your ankles same as before. You end up shimmying the rest of your clothes off.

You're so aroused it's easy to get the first finger in. Your hole twitches, the entrance pleasurable as slowly ease your middle finger down to knuckle. You til your head towards Togame as you get adjusted to the intrusion easily from how wet you are, pouting your lips. He gives into the kiss right away, warm tongue and soft lips familiar to you now. You ease yourself into the pace of his kiss, whimpering into his mouth as you slowly open yourself on second finger.

"I want it so bad," You mumble. He laughs against your mouth.

"I can tell. Can barely string a sentence together. You want to cum huh?"

"Uh-huh."

"What a naughty pussy. You're trembling from just fingering yourself. Won't you cum right away if I put in you at once? I'll have to go slowly," Togame explains. He speaks the filth so naturally. "Take my time so you're stretched nicely and not scared anymore. I'll turn the vibrator on after it's already inside so you can't run away from it. You can cum to your hearts content, then."

"I'm still scared," You admit. You're just so horny you're unsure of what else to do. He leans down to kiss you again, nose brushing against yours intimately.

"Don't be scared. Just focus on stretching so you're not so tight. I'll praise you if you take it in easily."

Your voice gives once you manage to get a third in. Togame doesn't stop kissing you, barely giving you enough air to breathe. He plays with your chest with his free hand, and holds the toy with the other.

A string of spit connects you. Your thighs are aching, body burning hot as you look at him directly.

"Wanna cum," You slur your words, speaking in short sentences. Togame grins a little.

"Take your fingers out and show them to me."

Your stomach flips but you comply with the request. Your face burns from how soaked they are.

"Good. Rub them on the toy now. Get it as sticky as you can."

Your heart is pounding is loud in your ears as you clumsily coat your new toy with your own mess. You watch it gain a fresh shine, baby blue turning reflective as you push it against and between your fingers until all of it's coated as best you can.

"That's it, good. Spread your legs now. Gonna put it in. Want me to kiss you?"

You nod sheepishly and close your eyes. Togame laughs warmly before kissing you again.

Your whole body throbs in anticipation for it. A muscular forearm and hand slip between your legs as you spread yourself open, your feet flat on the bed for easier access. Togame forces his tongue into your open mouth, kissing you wet and hard as he tweaks your nipples. You feel pleasantly suffocated from the pressure before gasping into his mouth.

The swollen silicone head of your toy stretches your pussy more than you thought it would. You've never had a toy with angles so the sensations are all new. You can feel it so well inside of you, you can barely keep your composure long enough to stop moaning as just the tip slides in. Togame swallows each noise from your mouth. His kisses feel almost ferocious now when they were so composed before, free hand cupping your jaw from one side.

He fucks it in slowly, rocking the toy by its handle slowly until you get used to it - giving you moments between to adjust. You can feel it bottom out inside of you, the head pressing so precise on your swollen gspot you could cum from bucking your hips. Your sensitivity is over the top. Every touch and and tease and bump makes your cunt clench and throb.

The blunt end of the rubber attachment presses against your needy little clit. Togame moves the toy a little, fucking you with it slightly again. Barely. It still nearly makes you cum.

You feel like he's edging you. Anymore than this, you think you'll go crazy.

"Kame-chan." Your voice is beyond wrecked, throat as one of your hands reaches to cling desperately to his short sleeves. You fist it, teary. "Jo, turn it on please. Make me cum. Wanna cum so bad, 'm so close, please, please. C'mon."

"Turning it on, baby. Easy."

The word baby makes your body melt.

A slight click sounds as Togame turns on the vibrator.

Your whole body lurches at the sudden change. Togame pins you with his own, keeps his hands steady and the toy inside of you without skipping a beat. The soft whirr of the first setting completely unravels you. It feels like every nerve in your body is being pulled apart, electricity through a frayed copper wire. The muscles in your body aching with anticipation after so many dissatisfying orgasms clench tight as your body prepares itself for something so vast your mind can't process it at all. Your hands fist at your sides, clutching the sheets as you get close to cumming.

You're thrashing from the sensation. It's so much, too much - you've never felt anything like it before. You feel full and euphoric and your head is spinning. It feels so good it terrifies you, makes you clench up hard in how unbearably unrelenting it is. There's no pace, no where to escape from. The vibrations are strong but not overwhelming to the point you can't feel them.

You're so senstive all over your body and it's touching you in two places.

Your spine starts to curl into an arch, hips stuttering and twisting as you feel it rushing over your consciousness. Fuck, you've wanted this for so long. It's exactly the high you've been chasing after on your own for so many months it's making your brain feel like like mush. Animal instinct forces your hips up, bucking against Togame's hand where he holds the toy. You're fucking yourself on it. You can hear him laugh as he moves to meet you ruts.

You feel like you're losing your fucking mind.

"G-gonna—fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! I can't, I can't, I can't. Feels so good, Ican't."

He leans in and gets close to your ear, tongue caressing the lobe before biting it soft.

"Yes you can. You want it so bad don't you? Wanna cum all over this cock so bad you've been aching for it. I know you want it, I can see it. Look how much your moving your hips." His voice is shaking, hands flicking your nipples messy and harsh as he speaks. "Look what a mess you're making. You're leaking everywhere. You want it badly right? Don't think about it and cum. Cum as much as you want. Cum for me,"

The last words are the ones to snap the thread inside of you.

Your brain bluescreens as your body seizes before finally, finally giving you the orgasm you've been chasing. You smash your lips against Togame's as your spine arches off the bed, thrashing in place. Something in you undoes - and you feel a wet rush spray from between your legs at the same time your orgasm hits. Your mind feels completely and utterly blanked. Your body is in total rapture, uncontrollable pleasure fucking your brain until you're stupid and slack jawed. It feels so good, so so good. You didn't know anything could ever feel that good in your life. It's scary.

You feel like you could get addicted. Your high rides out for much longer than ever before. In between sloppy kisses, you say the same words over and over and over. Togame grips you close to him as you do.

"Jo," You mutter. "Thank you, thank you, thank you—feels so fffucking good, fuck. I can't, I can't. Off, off. 's too much, I'll pee."

Instead of turning it off, he turns the vibration up by one. Your eyes fly open as you gasp, words rushed. Panicked.

"I can't," You swear, looking at him for mercy. His face is flushed. "I can't, Jo-chan, I'll cum again, I'll—"

"Cum." He says, demands - voice rougher than you've heard it all night. "I know you can. Cum,"

On demand practically, your legs seize up and you cum again a second time in near succession. You feel so fucking incredible you think you're going to die.

"Fuck!"

You squirt again, body nearly giving out as more short spurts soak your sheets and mattress. Your pussy is pulsing in the after math, trembling and clenching so violently. You whine loudly as Togame stops the vibration and pulls the toy out, shivering as it catches on your tight hole before coming out of it with a soft pop.

Your legs are twitching.

Even though Togame has no more reason to kiss you he does. And even though you're well past the point of needing to kiss him back, you do more affectionately than any time prior.

"You made me feel so good it's freaking me out." You admit, shaking uncontrollably.

Togame pauses before breaking out into genuine laughter. He kisses your head, arm wrapping around your shoulders until you're hugged against him.

"You were so sexy like that."

You blink at him, face flushed.

"Sexy?"

"I was really hard seeing you cum," He says, casually looking down. "I didn't know you could be cute and ask for kisses. You're usually more—"

You put a hand over his mouth.

"Whatever you're gonna say shut up,"

He just smiles, cheek against your hair. "I'm glad you got to feel good."

"What about you?" You mumble, feeling your heart pick up just asking. "Are you still hard? I feel like I should pay you back somehow,"

He looks at you seriously. "Do you know what you're implying?"

You fold a little but nod anyway. "Yeah."

"Do you really? The monk thing is a joke, you know. If you offer something like that, I won't be able to stop."

"It's fine," You say confidently before adding, much quieter. "I r-really want to do... it with you."

Togame pauses before kissing you deeply. Your whole body feels molded to him now.

"Damn it." He looks down at you, black hair sticking to his skin. You wanna feel his undercut with your hands in his hair. "You know this ain't normal between friends, right?"

"Uhm, yeah? I figured."

"Don't go around getting help from anyone."

You shake your head. "It's only 'cause it's you."

He scrubs a hand over his face and laughs. "You don't need to stir me up anymore. I'm already hard enough. Can't keep my composure at all."

You tilt your head in confusion. Togame just sighs.

"Don't worry about it." He says, shaking his head. "How soon can I get my thanks?"

Your eyes widen as you clench again. "Uhm. Now, if you want it."

He grins a little lazy, eyes swimming with adoration.

"I do," He hums, laying back as you get up from where you've been laying. "Come over here and let me touch you properly then."

"Is that what you really want?"

You climb ontop of him, bare naked almost as your hoodie falls back down over your torse. Togame slides the fabric up and gives you a meaningful look.

"More than anything,"

[elllisaaa]

CONNECTED - BANGCHAN

KINKTOBER DAY 5 - BREEDING

SUMMARY : you've been nothing but a good girl to him lately, even watching over his niece when his sister visited him by surprise. and it awakened an urge in him. maybe your relationship is more than what chan pretends it is.

-> pairing : sugar daddy!chan x fem!reader

-> words count : 2k

-> genre : smut

-> warnings : dom!chan x sub!reader, breeding kink (obviously), creampie, unprotected sex, sprinkle of angst, dirty talk, spanking, pussy slapping, fingering, use of 'good girl', praising, begging, teasing, rough sex

+ the way i'm depicting chan does not represent him, it's only a work of fiction

-> 18+ content bellow, minors DNI

-> reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated ! sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language.

-> masterlist | ateez masterlist | kinktober 2024

When Chan asked you to come spend the weekend at his place, he didn’t think he would find himself trapped with his sister and her two kids coming over. You were actually in the middle of a quite intense make out session, with you sitting on his lap on the couch, when someone rang the front door bell. And he had no choice but to open the door when he heard Hannah’s voice calling for him from the outside. Chan had apologized at least ten times to you already for the embarrassing situation he put you in - having to explain to his sister that you were just friends wasn’t the most agreeable moment of your life, especially since she must have guessed it wasn’t true. 

She asked for you to stay with them, and even though her intentions were probably good, it made it all very uncomfortable for you. Hannah must have thought that you were Chan’s girlfriend despite the age difference, but of course, she couldn��t guess that he was in fact your sugar daddy. It had started almost nine months ago, when you met Chan at the bar you were working at. That night, he came in alone and he looked sad, so since it was a quiet night, you took some time to talk with him. And when he left, he handed you a tip that could have covered your rent for three months at least, along with his number if you wanted to chat again. It was not long after that he proposed to give you money in exchange for the two of you meeting weekly to talk. 

And at the beginning, you must admit that you were purely interested in his money - it was only the cherry on top that Chan was crazy handsome and that your conversations were pretty interesting too. But as time went on, he became so much more than just a man paying you to discuss with him. He started to give you more and more gifts, and you started to feel way more for him than what your relationship wanted the two of you to be. It all changed when you went out to a bar together, and came back to his place completely wasted. That was the first time you ever fucked with him, and it hadn’t stopped until then. And honestly, you coulnd’t ask for more - you had an attractive, rich man, paying you for spending time with him and gifting you all sorts of things, and he was also fucking you like a queen, treating you like a queen. Well, there was actually something more that you wanted but you knew it was impossible, knew you couldn’t have it. 

“- Tom ! Layla ! We’re leaving, come here !”

Hannah’s two kids that you had been playing with for an hour clinged to you as they refused to go back to their mother, and if she watched the scene pretty amused, Chan had something else swirling in his eyes. Seeing you be so affectionate, be so natural at taking care of childrens had him thinking about things he shouldn’t, about making you his wife and the mother of his own kids when you weren’t even his girlfriend. And you were still so young, you still had so much to live before getting trapped in a relationship like this, before committing to life, especially to him. You couldn’t feel the same, but as you looked at him with a bright smile, his niece and nephew refusing to let you go, his heart beat faster when he dreamt about it being the sight he could wake up to every morning. 

“- What came over you Channie ?

- Nothing, I just need you. Right now.”

You didn’t protest much more, letting him pin you down to his mattress and explore your whole body with his hands. His lips were demanding and rough against yours, but you loved it when he was a little more harsh, when he stopped being so worried about hurting you. Though, you didn’t quite understand what snapped for him to drag you upstairs as soon as his sister left. Maybe it was only because he was frustrated of having been interrupted earlier, but it felt like it was something else, like there was something more. 

“- On your knees, head in the pillow. I wanna see your pretty ass when I fuck you.”

You didn’t say anything, once again, and simply obeyed and turned around to position yourself like he had asked you to. Chan’s hand immediately landed on your cheeks, forcing a pained moan out of you. He practically ripped your pants off of you, along with your underwear, and this time he slapped your pussy, your body lurching forward and if it wasn’t for the strong grip he had around your waist, you would’ve collapsed on the bed. 

“- Always so wet for me, fuck…”

His deep, raspy voice whispering dirty things behind you had you clenching around nothing, and Chan was quick to notice it as his eyes were still glued onto your pussy. You felt one of his fingers run from your sensitive clit and along your dripping slit, the tip teasing your entrance. You couldn’t help moving your hip against his fingers, trying to entice him into giving you more. 

“- You’re so greedy babygirl, you always want more from me, uh ?”

It made you moan, but it also made your heart clench, because he was too close to the truth. However, the feeling of two of his fingers slipping inside of your cunt made your train of thoughts stop there and it was for the best. You moaned louder this time, Chan thrusting his fingers into you at a rapid pace from the get-go. You both knew you didn’t need any preparation now, too used to his cock, but he loved to tease, loved to see how he could drive you insane with only two of his fingers. 

“- You were such a good girl today, I think you deserve a reward, don’t you ?”

You whined and nodded your head energetically as an answer, and you could easily imagine the cocky grin that must have spread on Chan’s face. You heard him unbuckle his belt and get rid of his pants and underwear behind you, his hands soon returning to their previous spot on your waist as his tip bumped against your clit. 

“- Channie… Please…

- Come on baby, we both know you can do better than that.

- Please, fuck me Channie, please, I want your cock so bad…

- There you go, good girl.”

He didn’t let you say anything more as he pushed half of his cock inside of you, letting you breathe and adjust to his size for a few seconds. But soon enough, he was filling you up to the brim, and you couldn’t keep your moans for yourself, and you couldn’t help the way you were clenching around him. 

“- Shit… I can never get enough of your pretty pussy.”

Your fists were gripping tightly onto the sheets to try and keep a bit of your sanity as Chan started to pull back, only to slam into your cunt full force, the back of his muscular thighs slapping against your ass and producing a lewd sound that mixed with the squelching of your impossibly soaked folds. A thin layer of sweat had started to form on your back as Chan restlessly pounded into you, his mind only clouded with thoughts of you full of his cum, so full you couldn’t escape from his hold ever again. His hands had an iron grip around your waist, pulling you back to him to hit deeper into you. You moaned louder with each one of his thrusts, slowly losing your mind to the sensation of his cock dragging against your velvety walls. 

“- C-Channie… 

- What is it babygirl ? Feeling close already ?”

You simply cried out his name again, the way he had leant into you to be able to talk directly into your ear made the angle of his hips change and hit your sweet spot even more perfectly - and you knew he did it on purpose, did it to make you go crazy. And it worked every time.

“- Mmh… You’re squeezing me so tight… There you go, cum around me angel.”

Every word that fell from his mouth brought you closer to the edge and you buried your face into his pillow to drown out your cries of pleasure as you came around him, his steady pace never flattering as he continued to fuck you through your orgasm. And even when you started to whine from overstimulation, Chan didn’t stop. 

“- I-It’s too much… 

- Just let me fill you up, yeah ? Gonna give you my cum, gonna fill you up to the brim…”

Chan didn’t care anymore about the way this may all sound to you, his mind was clouded with thoughts of you becoming his wife, of you carrying his child, of your pussy dripping from his cum, and all he wanted was to stuff you full of his load, full of him, to make you his forever. His thrusts became rougher, and he was starting to lose his rhythm, though that was enough to bring you to the brink of another orgasm as you turned your head to the side to look at him over your shoulder : he had thrown his head back, his dark strands of hair sticking to his forehead and his muscular chest covered in sweat. But the best part of it all was the way his face contorted in pleasure.

“- Please, Channie… Give it to me, I want it all…”

His eyes bore into yours with a rare intensity, with lust but also some kind of possessiveness that he had never shown towards you. It was like something shifted, something that was going to change your relationship forever. 

“- Yeah ? You want my cum angel ? You want my babies ?”

You didn’t even know that you wanted it, but the moment he said it, you let out a broken moan as you nodded as best as you could, trying to move your hips to match his deep and quick thrusts. You knew that you wanted to be his - to be truly his - but you weren’t even aware that it was to that extent. But the thought of actually being the mother of his children seemed appealing, and it made you cried out his name again.

“- Words babygirl.

- F-Fuck ! Yes, yes I want your cum, I want your babies Channie !

- Shit… I’m gonna make you pregnant, gonna make you fucking mine.”

Chan growled behind you as he buried himself to the hilt into your pussy one last time, thick ropes of cum painting your insides white as he moaned and groaned, the sensation crashing like a violent wave against him, but it was mostly the thought that he might actually get you pregnant that made him say your name the loudest. Your second orgasm was even more intense than the first one, his promise and the feeling of his cum filling you up in the best way possible making you shake and tremble in his hold. 

“- God, you’re gonna be the death of me one of these days.”

Chan murmured with a sly grin tugging at the corner of his lips as he watched the way some of his release dripped down your thighs despite him being still in you. The sight was mesmerizing, and he simply couldn’t look away, he simply couldn’t not get hard again. 

“- Seriously ?”

Your whines made him chuckle as he pulled out to help you lay down on your back. As soon as he was sure you were comfortable, Chan kissed you passionately, and there seemed to be something more behind the sensual glide of your tongues this time. 

“- Not my fault angel, you agreed to be mine, now you have to bear with that.”

His eyes were gleaming with so much adoration that you couldn’t pretend not feeling the same anymore and you bit down on your lips as you locked your gaze with his, your voice barely above a whisper as you talked. 

“- Yeah… I’m yours Chan.”

-> i don't allow any copies, reposts or translations of my work.

skz masterlist (fill in this to be added) :

@minnies-babie @binwons @yoongles2025 @thicccurls @caitlyn98s @sharonxdevi @skz1-4-3 @bbgnyx @hann1bee @lil-kpopstan @heevllog @puppy-minnie @binniesbabygirl @chrizzztopherbang @lichyuu @foxinnie8 @lala-----------lala

kinktober masterlist (comment or dm to be added) :

@d-dilemma @bath1lda @anxiousskylar