#I’d like to at least be mediocre

[flapjackoctolover]

Genuine, oddly specific question…

If someone were to make a character a self-insert, and people started shipping said self-insert with other characters, would that be weird? Like, say, if I were to write a book and one of the side characters was basically a self-insert, but people started shipping them with other characters, would that be awkward? I don’t know how to feel about it, but I guess it’s hard to avoid within the shipping community. (Frankly, I’d find it kind of entertaining, but should I feel that way?)

Also, at what point does a self-insert become *not* a self-insert? Because if a character has similar traits to you, or you’re projecting your own experiences for the sake of relatability, doesn’t that make them a self-insert? Would that make many characters that are seemingly unrelated to the author self-inserts in some way?

I’m really sorry, this is a stupid question (and I only took one year of creative writing in high school). I’m also really dumb, so please forgive me.

[winterswake]

well at least it’s gonna be years until they ruin my girl Abby in tlou hbo season 2

[magpiesbones]

.

[thesunloveschips]

Obsessed - Part 3 (Azriel x Reader)

Summary: Nesta is even more delusional than Y/n. Azriel finally knows his woman is attracted to him.

Warnings: smutty fantasies, delusional bestie Nesta, Azriel right after a shower, Azriel in ONLY a towel, Azriel's tattoos, delusional Azriel.

Click here for Obsessed (Masterlist)

****

Azriel had no idea what he was thinking when he let Y/n in his apartment. The same place he’d overanalysed to see where all he could fuck her. 

That’s right. 

He wasn’t thinking at all. 

Because he opened the door, saw her, and voila~ she was inside. 

She moved towards the kitchen and began hunting for plates. Azriel simply watched her as she made herself at home and owned the kitchen. 

Yes.

She did. 

Y/n owned the kitchen, the apartment, and she owned him. 

Azriel appreciated the domesticity for a moment before walking towards her to help. He picked out a bottle of wine and the glasses. 

When they finally sat down, a silence washed over. Azriel was getting the feeling that this was not a comfortable silence. “What happened?” 

“I should’ve at least texted you.” So that’s why she was gloomy. 

“Your classes begin tomorrow. You need to study.” He remembered that Y/n took academics seriously. 

“But I kept on remembering you and I promised myself I’d text or call after finishing one topic and then I read more papers and got carried away and now, it’s been three days.” She slowly quietened and started playing with her fork. 

“We’re going to dine and chat.” He deftly served the lasagna for both of them. “There’s nothing wrong here. Nothing weird or awkward. Nothing to worry about.” 

Azriel watched her nod at him hesitantly. She was still worried. 

“How can I convince you that everything is all right between us?” He asked, folding his arms and letting them rest on the table as he leaned forward to look at her closely. 

This woman, this wonderful woman, fretting because she didn’t contact him. She didn’t need to know that he already knew what was going on. That she was so immersed in studying that she did not have any proper meals. 

He also knew that she had rushed off to the supermarket earlier this evening and spent a lot of time in the kitchen. 

What he didn’t know was that all of it was for him. 

That information warmed him in an unexpected manner. 

“Hey.” He rose and reached her. Azriel turned her chair and kneeled before her. “It’s all right.” 

“It’s just, you’re so good to me and. . . I didn’t even call or text and now, you’re still. . . you’re still so good to me.”

Good? 

That wouldn’t do.

He was supposed to be the best for her. 

Good sounded like mediocrity in his own head but the word sounded like an achievement when she said it. 

Was this what she thought about him?

“It’s all right. We’re fine. You’re here. I’m here. We’re okay.” He patted her head gently. 

Azriel stood up, pulled another chair next to her, and readied a bite for her but Y/n shook her head. “I made it for you. You should eat first.”

Something in his head had just short circuited. 

He had just been hit with the realisation that she had cooked for him but to hear her say it was euphoric. 

“You’ll eat after I take a bite?” She nodded instantly so he took a bite. 

It wasn’t made by a chef who considered cooking to be an art for the world to enjoy. 

It was made by someone who wanted to cook only for him and not for the world. 

A taste prepared to be enjoyed within the privacy and security of the people that would comprise his home. 

“Thank you.” His voice was raw and tinged with much more emotion than he’d expected. 

This moment with her, her cooking, and him was simply so overwhelming. 

“You’ve done so well.” Y/n smiled brightly and a part of Azriel felt like he had truly achieved something in life. To make this woman happy and safe. 

This woman, warm as a blanket in early winter mornings, beautiful in the face of her entire life—he wanted his opportunity to cherish her. And he’d take it. He could be patient. 

Azriel did not ever remember doing anything good enough to deserve this woman’s presence in his life. But she was here and he’d keep her by his side. 

They dined sitting next to each other. And Azriel was acutely aware of everything she did. Every time those breasts heaved as she breathed. Those lips with a bit of cheese at the corner. 

He turned to his own plate, nearly scarfing down the meal lest he have another inappropriate thought. But the sight of his own fork reminded him of her mouth around her own fork. 

Y/n would look lovely on her knees and even lovelier with his cock inside that mouth. He’d wrap her perfect hair around his fist and thrust inside her mouth. And then he’d-

“Azriel.” She was sitting right next to him, and the height difference was enough for him to think about leaning in. 

That stupid bit of cheese was still by the corner of her lip and Azriel could nearly see how she’d look after he’d come in her mouth. 

“Are you all right?”

No, he wasn’t. 

He wanted that mouth. 

On his lips, on his chest, on his cock. 

“Yes.” A fucking lie. He was not okay knowing that the woman he was fantasising about was right next to him, eating a meal, thinking that this was just a neighbourly interaction. 

Azriel definitely didn’t have any neighbourly intentions towards Y/n unless you could count wanting to fuck her against her front door as one of those. 

Conversation continued as she told him about her classes, her education so far, and more things he’d already read in her report but with an addition of her own feelings towards them. 

She was not eager to indulge in her private life but she was very proud to talk about Nesta, her best friend since childhood. He heard a few funny moments from her past and bits and pieces about her family. 

At some point, he’d begun speaking. It was not just about being comfortable with her but also about wanting to tell her, and knowing that she would now know something about him. So he told her about his friends, his education, and a few things about his everyday life. 

When it was nearly eleven, he reminded her that she had classes from tomorrow. Azriel could swear he saw disappointment in her eyes as Y/n made a move to leave. 

He really wanted to kiss her. Tell her that she’d cooked really well. That he was thankful for her efforts. 

And instead of escorting her to the door, he wanted to take her to the bedroom where he’d undress her and kiss every inch of her. 

He couldn’t kiss her but there was something else he could do. 

And that’s how Azriel found himself watching baking videos as he retired to bed instead of taking a while to masturbate to his fantasies of Y/n.

****

Y/n was in a good mood after last night’s dinner but she felt guilty for not contacting Azriel. Her neighbour was so nice, so kind. He’d helped her far more than neighbours ever did and she’d just . . . forgotten him while she studied. 

She was well-prepared for her classes, met a few new people, toured the campus library, and returned to her apartment. 

She immediately FaceTimed Nesta. 

“Wait, let me just set this.” Nesta moved to the kitchen in her own shared apartment and placed the phone so that she could cook while they talked. Y/n had already done the same. “Now, before you spill, I have some news. Remember your ex?”

“Very difficult to forget his impact in my life.”

“Lots of trauma and insecurity, I know.” Nesta knew how condescending that creature had been to Y/n, always belittling her whenever she did something or was about to do something herself. And then he’d be a little hypocrite by saying that he’d support her choices while also routinely telling her to stop using her brain. “He got roped into a case of tax fraud and he got fired but he’s still a party to the case.”

Y/n remained silent but her wide eyes were enough for Nesta to understand that she’d been shocked. Nesta waited in front of the screen patiently. “Well. . . fuck him.”

“That’s my girl!” Nesta cheered. “Also, there’s a rumour floating among the alumni that he made some powerful enemies so he’s laying low or he’s underground or on the run or whatever terminology they use for people like that but since this guy is the worthless lowlife that hurt you, I’d prefer to say he’s in the sewer.”

“Hopefully, he’ll drown in the sewage.”

“Moving on, quite literally, to better things in life. Exhibit A: your hot neighbour. Have you fucked?”

“No. And I don’t think we will.” She had a good talk with him last night, absorbing his every word like a sponge but she couldn’t help but feel that he was not attracted to her in the way she was towards him. 

“Why not? He’s hot. You’re hot. It only makes sense that you two fuck.” 

Y/n looked at the screen, unimpressed. “I think he sees me as a sister.”

“Then go! Do incest! What are you waiting for?” Nesta waved her hands.

“We’re not related.” 

“Then do the step-sibling incest thing. We’ve already watched My Fault. It’s bound to be hot.” Nesta deadpanned. 

My Fault was a hot, forbidden romance. Now, that was another fantasy. 

“Wait. Why do you think he sees you as a sister?” Nesta came to the screen and started eating an apple. 

“Because he patted my head last night.” Y/n sighed. “It felt very sibling-like.” She began peeling the onions. 

“What happened last night?” Nesta was now curious. 

“I forgot to contact him for three days so I made lasagna as an apology.”

“Wait a fucking second.” Here we go. “You have that hot furnace as your neighbour and you forgot him?” Nesta sounded very much offended on Azriel’s behalf. “Are you drugged or something?” She opened a container and closed it. She kept it back and took out another container.

“We enjoyed dinner and dessert and conversations but I almost cried before we started.”

“Darling, men have to be dealt with very tactfully.” Nesta placed a bowl in front of her phone and began peeling potatoes. “If they see your emotional baggage, it’ll only be a big turn-off even when you only want a fling. For example, in my gym, there’s a trainor-”

“You joined a gym?” Y/n interrupted. “Why am I hearing about this now?”

“I have too much free time now that you’re not here so I joined a gym.” Nesta glared at Y/n and the latter kept quiet. “There’s a hot trainor and I know he wants to fuck me. But what am I doing? I’m doing what every reasonable, prudent woman would do. I’m ignoring him.”

“That’s probably not how you get laid.”

“I’m not trying to get laid. I’m trying to get railed. Understand the difference.” Nesta pointed her knife at the screen. 

“Laid is a romantic thing. Laid is when you lose your virginity. Laid is for sweet love making.” Nesta sounded a little disgusted while explaining ‘laid’ before her tone changed and she began her passionate explanation about what ‘railed’ meant. 

“Railed is for fucking against any surface because you can’t wait. It’s for throwing away your clothes and letting all the lust take over. Touching is for laid, groping is for railed. Do you understand?” Nesta waved her knife and Y/m dutifully nodded. 

“Maintain enough distance to let the sexual tension brew like a stew. But not too much distance to make him uninterested. And then soon, Cassian will fuck me like his life depends on it.” Nesta sounded gleeful as she revealed her plan. 

Y/n knew that Nesta was only going to fuck this trainor because she never did serious relationships. Y/n had been in one serious relationship which blew up on her face. And since then, it was unbearable to think of going for romance. “Cassian is your trainor’s name?”

“Nice name to moan, don’t you think?”

“Does he know you think that?” She began cutting the onions. Y/n thought that name sounded familiar. 

“Absolutely not. It’s only been two days. I’ll take some time. He’s already looking when I’m stretching and so now, I’ll do some specific warm ups that’ll make him realise that I’m a very, very flexible woman.”

“You bitch.” Y/n laughed as she stirred the vegetables. 

“I’m going to make him beg.” Nesta grinned evilly. “Enough about him. How do we get you to commit incest?”

“Did I tell you he’s older?”

“How old?”

“He’ll turn twenty nine in a few days.”

“You just turned twenty four. Oh, he’ll love it when you call him daddy.” Nesta smirked.

“I think I want to call him sir.” Y/n laughed. 

“Wait. That’s a good idea.”

“What?”

“Grocery shopping. All right? Show some cleavage. Stand next to him. Look up at him with the most innocent look. Okay? So innocent and holy that he should think you’re on the list of innocent people right after Jesus. And then say, ‘yes, sir’. Imagine the sex. He won’t even wait to take you to the bedroom.”

“I’m not really sure.” Y/n was hesitant. What if she ruined whatever friendship she had with him? 

The doorbell rang once. “Wait a sec. Nes, I’ll be back in a minute.” 

Y/n washed her hands quickly, wiped them on a towel, and went to answer the door. 

Azriel stood there, looking mindnumbingly sexy in a shirt with the first couple of buttons not. . . his chest. . .  tattoos and. .  . Y/n took a step back and nearly fell. 

Azriel’s arm snaked around her waist as he easily caught her and helped her stand up. 

“I received your parcel by mistake.” He whispered near her ear. 

“Thank you.” She probably squeaked. His hand was still on her waist and her eyes were shut tightly. 

“Y/n?” His voice was too deep, too dark, too bedroom-like. “Why are you hot?” 

“What?” Her voice was a mere whisper. 

“Open your eyes, Y/n.” Why was this man saying her name so much? “You feel feverish.” At some point, the back of his hand was pressed against her forehead. 

“I’m not. I’m fine.” She hurriedly explained. “Thank you for the parcel.” 

Azriel smiled beautifully at her. “I’ll see you around.” 

His hands left her waist and he reached his own door. Y/n watched as he entered his apartment, waved at her before closing the door. 

She closed her own door and ran to the kitchen to tell Nesta all about it.

**** 

When Y/n had been exploring during her first day of classes, Azriel easily infiltrated her house (he had a spare key, what do you think he bought the building for?) and set a few bugs to help him eavesdrop. 

Was it a coincidence that he made his appearance while Y/n was on a video call with her best friend, discussing and debating about fucking him?  

Absolutely not. 

He knew that Y/n didn’t like wearing her airpods unless it was necessary so her video calls were always  on speaker phone. He’d heard every bit of what both women said. 

The only thing that was a coincidence was that he was just about to ring the doorbell when the delivery man had appeared. He signed her parcel, claiming to be her boyfriend (which he would be) and when the delivery boy had left, he finally proceeded. 

Now that he knew for a fact that she was sexually attracted to him, he had to only seduce her. To coax her desires before revealing that he was always ready to fuck her. 

As for how he’d marry her, that was a little further away but he was confident now. 

If she ever called him sir, he knew he’d crack and explode. Y/n wouldn’t even have to do much and he’d fuck her ever so thoroughly. 

So he waited. 

He got his work done. A few meetings. Calls. Learned how to bake. 

He did get his chance to talk to her or go grocery shopping with her but she did not call him sir. 

The electricity was beginning to crackle between them when he spotted her looking at his forearms often. He’d wear henleys, roll up his sleeves, and watch as she drooled over while pretending he didn’t realise. 

How adorable was she as she checked him out not so discreetly. 

And how adorable would she be, begging and crying for him to stop. 

****

Azriel had finally perfected baking a cheesecake and it was kept for cooling. A few more hours and he could bring it over to Y/n. 

The doorbell rang and Azriel cursed. If there was someone other than Y/n on the other side, he’d throw them down the stairs. 

This was a bit inconvenient since he’d just finished showering. He draped a towel around his hips and took another one to begin with his hair as he headed for the door.

It seemed that there would be no deaths since Y/n was waiting for him. But the moment she saw him, her eyes widened and she looked like she’d seen a ghost. 

Why?

She looked damn good in that grey sweater and black jeans. Winter fashion suited Y/n. Sweaters were gentle on her curves, her legs were. . . 

Yes. 

Those were the legs he wanted around his waist. Minus the jeans, of course. 

She looked so fucking good but there was only one problem when she went out with him.

He couldn’t show her off as his wife.

As stated in the previous chapter, a lot of things would be sorted if he married Y/n. 

Azriel was ready to brood now that the reality of not being married to her slapped him. 

But then why was she so shocked when she was the one who looked like she was out to seduce him by existing? 

Oh.

He was in a towel.

And with his chest on display. 

He remembered that tattoos were an attraction for women and he had loads of them. On his fingers, hands, arms and chest. 

Was she attracted?

“Y/n?” He let the towel for his hair hang around his neck. 

“Huh?” She then looked at his face because she’d been staring at his chest for so long. 

How cute. 

She was attracted.

Did she know that all this was hers? 

This chest. These hands. These legs. And this cock. 

Everything was hers. 

Honestly speaking, he’d fuck her if she asked. 

“Come in.” He opened the door wider.

“You have tattoos.” She still seemed to be in a daze. 

He really had to put in effort to not smirk at her flustered state. 

Would she like the tattoos under the towel?

“Yes, I have tattoos. Come inside, Y/n.” He gently ushered her in before realising that he just brought in his woman inside the apartment. His woman who was definitely attracted to him and even more so, more that she’d seen him half naked. 

“Yeah. Um. . I was going to buy vegetables. Just wanted to see if you’d like to come with me or if you wanted me to get something.” She was looking at the wall now. 

What was this woman even thinking? 

That he’d ever refuse her? 

Hah! What nonsense.

Why was he even here in this country, in this apartment, if not for her?

Azriel walked over, tilted her chin with a hand, and met her gaze looking as oblivious as he could. “Is there a reason why you’re not looking at me?” 

Fuck it. He wanted her to look at her. What did he even look this good for if she was not looking at him?

“I thought. . Maybe you’d be uncomfortable if I looked at you. Some people don’t. . they don’t like that and I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable because of me.” 

“You have my permission to look.” To touch. To kiss. To suck. To fuck. She had all permissions since day one. 

“Vegetables?” She averted her gaze. 

Azriel restrained the urge to smirk. 

“Give me ten minutes.” He returned to his room, dried himself, dressed up, and returned to Y/n.

“Ready?” He asked as he wrote his watch. 

“You haven’t dried your hair.” 

“I used the towel.”

“It’s evening, Az. You’ll catch a cold. Where’s your hair dryer?” There it was. There was the confident Y/n.

“Don’t have one.” He lied so easily. He wanted to see what she’d do. 

She marched over to the door and opened it. “Well. Come on. Lock up. You’re using my hair dryer. Only then will you come with me.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He grinned. Azriel loved it when she bossed him around. This side of her rarely revealed itself. 

Y/n froze and then turned away to unlock her door. And Azriel did as he’d been told.

****

Has anyone seen Azriel half naked? Ever? 

In a towel? Bare chested? 

Droplets on that golden skin? 

Tattoos? Fucking tattoos? 

Wet hair? 

The wet dream? 

How in fuck had she not fainted? 

And why did she think she was being sensible by inviting him to her apartment? 

To dry his hair?

Well, he did need his hair to be dried to avoid a cold. 

She could keep telling herself that. 

And what the fuck was that chin raising movement he did? 

In that instant, she could think of nothing but his she wanted to be laid down on the wooden coffee table and fucked like they were all that mattered. 

A towel. 

A towel. 

A towel with a tattoo that it partially concealed. 

He had a tattoo there. 

She wanted to see that tattoo. 

And his cock. 

She wanted to kneel before him.

Did anybody in the entire godsfucking universe bothered to take pity on her sanity and tell her that this man was not just sexy but fictional sexy? 

No. 

Her sanity had evaporated at some point.

Because her knees were already weakening as soon as she laid eyes on him. 

And he’d raised her chin looking like a sex god from a dark romance novel. 

Y/n needed to kneel and bend and spread for him all at once. 

Y/n: Save me. 

Nesta: What happened?

Y/n: I saw him shirtless. In a towel. Only a towel. My sanity is deceased. And I’m so fucking horny. 

Nesta: Send pics ;)

Y/n: He has tattoos all over. I saw one of them which was partially covered by that  towel. It’s down there.  

Nesta: Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

Y/n: He has a back.

Nesta: Everyone has a back.

Y/n: Wide shouldered, golden, tattooed back, with droplets. 

Nesta: Oh. Ohhhhhh. Ohhooohhoooooooo. You lucky bitch, you’re going to get railed. Scratch that back. Mark him well.

Y/n pocketed her phone before she got too delusional and brought the hairdryer. Azriel was sitting on her bed as instructed. She connected the appliance to the plug and gave it to him. 

He looked at her coyly with a stupid smirk before she sighed. “Fine.” 

Y/n switched on the dryer and dried his hair. She combed through with her fingers and Azriel looked more than happy to simply sit there. 

“You should do this if you’re going to wash your hair after lunchtime.” She wanted to sound stern but Y/n was busy thinking about grabbing his hair in other situations. 

“Uh huh.” He grinned at her like a cat. Y/n set the dryer down and fluffed down his hair herself. 

“All done.” 

He stood up and checked himself in the mirror. “Thank you, sweetheart. Now shall we get some vegetables?”

Y/n would have a heart attack at any time soon. She quickly texted Nesta, followed after him, locked the door and they left for shopping. 

Instead of heading towards the sidewalk, Azriel headed towards the line of cars parked on the side of the road. 

“Where are you going?” Y/n followed. She did not like how this man with his height and long legs just took two steps while she had to take four. She’d never really noticed before since he adjusted his pace to walk by her side. 

“My car is here. I had it sent over.” He then looked at her just before he opened the door to the driver’s seat. “Do you drive?”

“Yes?” 

“Do you want to drive?”

“It’s your car. I’m sure you don’t want a scratch.”

“I trust you.” He walked over and handed the keys to her. “You have a valid licence, right?”

“Azriel, you have to ask about the licence before you give someone your car keys.”

“But you said you drive.” This man had the audacity to look like a scolded child when, not more than twenty minutes ago, he looked like he could throw her around and fuck her all day, every day. 

At this point, Y/n needed an exorcism to help with her uncontrollable number of fantasies. 

The car was also huge enough to be fucked against. And she could bend over against the bonnet while he took her from behind but it was too cold at night for pants to be removed. 

“Y/n?” Azriel appeared in front of her like his existence hadn’t resulted in an unexpected number of filthy delusions that made her panic in his presence. “Ready to leave?”

“All right.”

And they entered the car. When they were settled and she started, Azriel began. “And if you want to go somewhere far just for the quiet, we can go now that we have a car.” 

“You love this car, don’t you?”

And Azriel went on a rant about how he’d purchased this one because of all that he fell in love with in this particular model. By the time he finished, they were already parked near the supermarket. 

Y/n removed her seatbelt and tapped his arm. “We’ve reached.” She smiled at him.

It was nice and fluffy to simply go on a drive and listen to him. 

****

It was so nice to just sit in the car. Azriel loved driving but he recently discovered he also loved sitting. And now that he was following Y/n with the shopping trolley, he felt even better. 

And all Azriel wanted to do was to embrace her from behind, kiss her cheek, and laugh with her at something stupid. 

It was simple and pleasant. To follow her with a trolley, to watch her frown at two containers of mayonnaise, to listen to her complain about how they should have separate section for panty liners and pads instead of putting them with baby diapers. 

She was a bossy woman, a side that revealed itself when they went grocery shopping. 

Gods, he wanted her to order him. To ride him and take charge. 

His grip on the trolley tightened. 

And just when he was beginning to control his thoughts, he saw the fire exit. The washrooms were built there. Nobody would see but he could simply hoist her away and fuck her there. 

The thrill of being in a public place did something else to him. 

He looked at Y/n and saw her waving at him with a container of something in her hand. He walked over to her and gave his suggestion on the chocolate spread. 

The only thing he hated in this routine of grocery shopping was when it ended and they went their separate ways. She’d go to her apartment and he’d go to his. And he hated that. He hated returning to a place where she wasn’t.

And for the first time, Azriel was not alone. He was lonely in the silence. 

****

Y/n knew she’d begun caring for her neighbour despite her attraction to him. That she’d started getting used to his presence in her life. 

It was only supposed to be sexual attraction but as hot as he was, he was also good to her. He cared for her and his every action proved it. 

She liked him.

She liked him. 

Oh god. 

She actually liked Azriel. 

Which sane woman wouldn’t? 

She didn’t care about other women. Other women could go drown in the sewer. 

What about her? 

This man was only supposed to be a one-time encounter from that club they went to for Feyre’s birthday party. 

And then he was at the airport. 

In the flight. In the same building. 

And now he was a part of her life.

And during that dinner when she'd brought him lasagna, when he asked her that question so seriously. “How can I convince you that everything is all right between us?”

Y/n had melted.

She looked at the apartment. This was just for a semester but Y/n loved this space solely because Azriel was next door. 

And at some point, she’d begun wishing he was here. 

She called Nesta and when her friend picked up the phone, she began crying. “I like him.” 

****

Taglist:

@fantanbietsson @angstylittleb1tch @fhgsvbnh @olive-main @cherryjain17 @halo-mystic @starofanotherworld @latinxbipride @viatorem-maris @acotarbestie @sevikas-whore @anthonys-viscountess @randomgurl2326 @thelov3lybookworm @cat-or-kitten

[hairyjocktf]

The New Cub

Jaden was a real estate agent in Denver, and quite a good one at that. He prided himself on that fact, having been the top agent at his firm for four years running. He was only 27 too, having gotten his license after high school with ease. Once he got that first commission check he never looked back. This had been a big week for him, closing a deal on a multi-million dollar house that was netting him a nice bonus. It’d taken a lot of work and effort, but as he walked into his apartment just hours after the signing he breathed a sigh of relief. He’d planned to take a few days off as a reward, some time to pamper himself like he deserved. He walked into his room, stripping off the well fitted blazer before undoing the buttons on his shirt. Water gushed from the faucet as he filled his tub with a warm bath and opened the windows, letting in that cool fall air. His belt and pants fell to the floor next as he admired his slim body in the mirror. 

Jaden was the ideal twink, with a tall and thin form that he kept supple and hairless with a meticulous daily routine. He slowly rubbed his hands down over his tight stomach, feeling the smooth skin he loved before sliding off his underwear. The warm water bubbled as he stepped in, sliding his body below the surface as water cascaded across his shaved legs. The tension in his shoulders melted away, the water sapping away the stress of the week. Birdsong echoed in through the open windows, and Jaden entered a state of pure relaxation. For all of five minutes, at least. Unable to be alone with his thoughts for too long, his long, near skeletal arm reached from the tub and grasped his phone. This may be his vacation but he sure wasn’t going to spend it at home relaxing.

He quickly opened up grindr. He glanced at the dozens of messages from the last few days but didn’t open a single one, opting instead to scroll and scroll, unsure of what he was actually looking for. Every few seconds he would get a tap or message, he knew his profile worked. It had for years, with his perfectly smooth and slim body appealing to a wide audience. He normally went for the tech guys who were in perfect shape, but that didn’t seem appealing today. Neither did a younger twink. He was about to put the app down when he got a message from what looked to be a guy in his late 30s, but in great shape. Good definition, and fully shaved, he noted.

“Afternoon gorgeous,” the message said, “got any weekend plans? Been looking for a handsome man to spoil a bit.” Jaden paused. Normally he didn’t care for offers like this, but he’d been unsatisfied from anything else so far. Plus, this was his weekend to spoil himself, why not let someone else help out? He typed out a response.

“Hey there :) Would love to be treated nice this weekend, what do you suggest?” He read it and deleted it all in disgust. “Thanks babe, I’d say I deserve a bit of spoiling this weekend, what's your offer?” he typed again, and then sent. A few seconds later a reply had already shown up.

“I’ve got a nice house with a mountain view, and I can promise the best meal of your life and the best sex you’ll ever have. Your choice for the details, of course,” the man said with a winky emoji. Not having to cook dinner was pretty appealing, and if it turned out to be mediocre he could always leave. It was just the first night of his time off after all. 

“Sounds lovely,” Jaden sent back, “Where’s this beautiful estate of yours?” A location appeared just seconds later. It was out in the western fringes of the city, a hefty drive. He knew the neighborhood though, and it was a nice one. Couldn’t hurt to give this guy a shot, he thought, rising out of the now lukewarm tub waters.

After a lengthy session of getting ready, Jaden set out for this luxury evening he’d been promised. The sun was already beginning to dip in the sky, promising a lovely sunset over the mountains. He pulled off the highway after about thirty minutes, navigating the twisting residential roads before finally arriving at a slightly secluded house at the top of a ridge. His first reaction was to how beautiful the property was, being a realtor and all. The view the man had offered seemed to be true, now he just had to test the rest of it. He checked himself in the rear view mirror, making sure his hair was tufted just right before stepping out into the cool evening air. He walked up the steps to a heavy oak door and rang the bell, hearing it echo inside. Heavy footsteps shook the ground as they approached, the door unlocked, and Jaden’s eyes went wide.

The man in the doorway was not the man he’d seen on grindr. This guy was a full-fledged daddy bear, older, fatter, and much, much hairier. He answered the door in just his tight underwear, showing off his large body that was completely coated in hair. Numerous tattoos were buried under the fur, barely recognizable. A thick salt and pepper beard adorned his face, which wore a wide grin.

“Well look at you kiddo, glad you showed!” the man said with a deep, smoky voice.

Jaden was taken aback, he’d never been in this situation. It wasn’t like the photos he saw were just a little out of date, this was an entirely different guy! At a loss of what to say, all he managed to get out was, “You… you’re not the guy in the pics!”

The man laughed, “Oh those photos, they were of my last project, don’t worry about them. Name’s Glenn. Why don’t you come in?” He took a step forward and reached out his hand.

Jaden’s brain was on red alert, he’d been catfished, lied to, and he needed to leave immediately. The old man in front of him was not at all what he was into, but that was the least of his concern at this point. What did he mean by ‘last project’? Why would he use pics that weren’t him? 

But suddenly, as Glenn stepped forward, a warm air washed over him coming from inside. It was smoky, almost rustic, but also smelled strongly of sweat and musk. His numerous trains of thought came to a screeching halt. He took a deep inhale through his nose, the smell dulling his senses in a way he couldn’t possibly notice. The outstretched hand looked so welcoming suddenly, and hadn’t he been promised dinner? The worries about the man were quickly fading, replaced by feelings of comfort. He took Glenn’s hand and stepped through the doorway without another thought. 

The inside of the house was larger than he’d expected, decorated almost in the style of a mountain cabin. It was cozy, with lots of bookshelves and wood paneling that had fallen out of style among his customers, but he strangely liked it here. Glenn led him through multiple rooms until reaching a large patio overlooking the mountains, the sunset still gaining colors in the background. Glenn sat him down on a large sofa.

“Make yourself comfortable, I’ll be right back with some food,” he said before trotting back into the house. Jaden stared out over the vista, wondering briefly why he’d said yes, before that thought too fell out of his mind. His mind was relaxed, yet a little foggy, almost similar to the feeling of poppers. He slouched further into the cushions waiting for Glenn to return with whatever feast he’d prepared. He caught himself even drooling at the thought, which shook him somewhat out of his daze, he couldn’t be acting like that. Just then Glenn walked back out with a huge plate of lamb chops, still sizzling. He set it down on a nearby table and motioned for Jaden to join him.

He sat down at the table and looked over the spread Glenn had prepared. The man hadn’t lied, it was an impressive feast. Jaden usually didn’t eat red meat but something about tonight felt different. As soon as Glenn sat down that same strong scent returned. This time it was more pungent, more reminiscent of the smell of sweat, and it made that foggy feeling return stronger than it’d initially been. But Jaden forgot about it when Glenn looked over with a smile.

“I think you’ll like this, son, it’s a tried and true family recipe after all!” he exclaimed before digging in. The word son rang in Jaden’s ears for a moment before he too dug into the food.

Despite his previous aversion to red meat he scarfed it down; it was absolutely delicious. He barely had time to speak in between bites, but Glenn didn’t seem to mind, watching Jaden devour the meal he’d prepared. Soon enough, his plate was empty, and Glenn admired the bulging stomach he could see pressing against Jaden’s tight shirt.

“Fuck, that was amazing,” Jaden said between burps. What was going on with him? First eating all that food and now burping like some degenerate caveman? But he was far past caring, already entering a sort of food coma. Glenn got up and went back to the couch, gesturing for Jaden to follow. He did so eagerly and tucked himself under Glenn’s open arm. Jaden would have never previously hooked up with a bear, but he was surprised to enjoy the feeling of a large furry body embracing him. Even more surprising was how obviously his dick sprang to life in his pants when Glenn’s hand dipped under the fabric. Glenn pulled Jaden closer to him, smiling at him as he stealthily attached a testosterone patch on Jaden’s back. It was time to see how far he could take this one.

The combination of Glenn’s powerful musk and enormous meal had Jaden completely subdued, ready to accept anything. His thick hands glided over Jaden’s smooth skin, sending shivers through his body. No other guy had been this effective with just his hands. Glenn ramped it up from there, kissing up and down Jaden’s body, feeling him shudder with pleasure. He rubbed his own hairy body against Jaden’s hairless one, subliminally inflicting him with desires yet to be realized. He couldn’t wait to see what Jaden would become. The next few hours were a blur as the sun fell below the mountains and the stars lit their passionate embrace. Glenn edged Jaden for hours, keeping him on the brink of ecstasy. He could feel the prickle of hairs as they began resurfacing in Jaden’s shaved groin. Finally after hours he let Jaden finish, spraying cum all over his slim body. Glenn massaged it into his skin as they cuddled, and Jaden passed out shortly after. That was just the beginning, Glenn thought to himself as he applied another patch to the sleeping Jaden’s body. 

Jaden arose the next morning to the smell of breakfast in the making; Glenn was preparing another feast for him. His body was still sore from the night before, causing him to groan as he got out of the bed. Glenn poked his head into the room.

“Morning, handsome,” he said with a chipper voice, “food’s almost ready!”

“I appreciate it but I should probably head out,” Jaden replied, looking for his clothes on the floor.

“Naw, what’re you sayin’ that for? We’ve got plenty more time,” Glenn assured him, stepping further into the room. That same familiar musk washed over Jaden again, and just like that he was more agreeable.

“You’re right, and I’m starving,” he said with renewed energy. Glenn came back moments later with a platter stuffed with waffles, bacon, what must have been a dozen eggs, and more. The urge to stuff himself again took hold of Jaden, who tore his way through the breakfast. Glenn watched with a grin, seeing Jaden’s belly puff out just a little more than the night before. They spent the rest of the day cuddling, making out, having more sex. Jaden was in heaven, not noticing when Glenn applied new patches to his back after the first ones had fallen off. His thoughts about getting back to his apartment faded while Glenn’s thick scent fogged up his head. It all felt so good, why would he want to leave?

That evening they showered together, Glenn’s sweat covering Jaden along with his own cum. He sensually washed Jaden’s body with his custom soap, scented like pine and infused some ingredients to encourage hair growth. He felt up and down Jaden’s body, noticing some areas that weren’t quite so smooth anymore. Hairs had begun to surface not only in his groin, but across his thighs, and even on his chest. Just small pinpricks for now. As they were drying off afterward Glenn placed another patch under Jaden’s shoulder blade. He also noticed how Jaden’s previously boney frame had softened just a tad. 

The days continued to pass in a similar manner, Glenn and Jaden spending every moment intertwined as Glenn slowly but surely molded Jaden. He was changing day by day from the definition of a twink to something else. Brown stubble sprouted sparsely across his chin and lip, his chest had begun to push out into soft pecs adorned with their own fuzz. His previously shaved armpits had stubble pushing out, with new hairs joining each day. His similarly shaved pubes were returning with a vengeance, growing in quicker and spreading further than they ever had before. Fat was clinging to his thin frame, he was filling out. 

As Jaden’s body hair started coming in, Glenn would spend more and more time rubbing his hands through it. It was an electric feeling for Jaden, he’d never known it could feel that being hairy. And he was slowly craving it more and more. Glenn continued putting testosterone patches on him as well as a number of other products he’d tried with other guys before. He wanted this cub to be perfect. Jaden’s vacation had long passed but he was oblivious, forgetting more and more each day about his previous life as he dedicated his new one to Glenn. Every day he rubbed against Glenn’s weathered, hairy body and desired it all for himself. He loved the attention, being spoiled and cared for. He didn’t even notice that every meal was huge to ensure he packed on the pounds quickly. 

Days turned to weeks, as Jadens body continued to mold to Glenn’s form. Glenn decided it was time for more progress, and introduced Jaden to his home gym. He slowly introduced a routine before pushing Jaden harder than he’d ever exercised in his life. Glenn took pride in having some strength under his gut, and he wanted his cub to have some solid muscle too. That’s when the testosterone patches turned to injections. Stronger and more effective, Glenn was pushing his cubs transformation into full gear. 

The thin wisps of hair that dotted his chest thickened and multiplied, with larger pecs pushing out as well. The chest hair spread out from his nipples and up towards his neck, and even out towards his shoulders, connecting with the pit hair that had really started to sprout. What had once been a smooth shaven pit was now erupting into a forest. The hairs darkened, grew coarse and wiry, and really began to hold his sweat in. Between that and the workouts Jaden was starting to produce his own sweaty musk at a rapid rate. His beard also grew denser and darker, peach fuzz flooded with testosterone until it became real fur, pushing out of his face. Every day the hairs grew longer, darker, and Glenn was there to feel it all, stroking his cub’s growing beard as it came in.

Each day for Jaden began to follow a pattern; he ate plenty, worked out for hours, and was intimate with Glenn for the rest of it. He would do daily testosterone injections and used Glenn’s hair growth wash. He had grown to love what was happening to him, with continuous positive reinforcement from Glenn, who would comment on his progress. He would point out during sex how much larger his cock and balls had gotten, immediately giving Jaden an erection. It was true though, what had once been a thin six inch cock was now pushing past eight and as thick as a beer can, with balls the size of lemons dangling below. 

His pubes had hit the same growth spurt. What had once been a small shaven patch had erupted into a verdant jungle of hair. Over the weeks they had pushed out slowly, growing darker and curlier, tangling together as more and more hairs pushed through the skin and sprouted out. The bush spread out from the base of his cock, coating his entire groin and reaching up to his stomach and out onto his thighs. His massive balls received their own dense fur coat; the wiry hairs so thick you could barely see through the forest. Hairs had even started climbing up his shaft, giving it an almost animalistic look. Glenn loved this, edging Jaden for hours every day playing with his thick pubes and enormous balls. The hairs blended seamlessly up to the rug on his chest, coating his continually growing belly in more and more hair. 

Jaden had put on so much size that his clothes no longer fit. Glenn of course supplied him with everything he could want, though he rarely wore more than just underwear. He loved the way a tank top looked while working out, his gut pressed tight against the fabric while still showing off his hairy chest and shoulders. His forearms grew thick with muscle as fur coated them as well. His thick thighs met the same fate, with hair sprouting all the way down to his feet. His beard thickened further and spread higher up his cheeks, leaving him with a dense covering that tangled with Glenn’s own when they kissed. His body had doubled in size, with those workouts giving him a solid muscular frame. Glenn made sure that was still softened by plenty of chub though, stuffing his cub at every meal. 

Fall changed to winter, and Jaden was nearing perfection as Glenn’s cub. They were inseparable, spending every day together as Glenn pushed the cub to be the best he could be, perfected for his own enjoyment. Jaden was enamored with his daddy bear, aware of the changes he’d undergone but not worried about his past self. As snow began to fall outside, his new mass and fur coat kept him warm even when outside, since he rarely cared to put on a coat. It was even better for snuggling by the fire with a full fledged bear, one who promised to only make Jaden more and more like himself. Jaden was now a true cub, in love with his daddy bear and looking forward to a life of growing. 

[belokhvostikova]

─── 𐙚 Fic Authors Self-Rec Game

When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics you’ve written, then pass it on to at least five other writers! Let’s spread the self-love! ༝༚༝༚

I love when my presence is acknowledged by @onegirlmanytales. Someone cool knows me, he he.

The “Plug” | (Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader) (18+)

Man, just like all my fics, I hated writing this one, but it was worth it! Yay! I don’t know, it just has such a nice feel to it, mostly because I like the idea of Eddie having a crush on us (me). This was also inspired by some Soundgasm audio, lol, so it has quite a nice bit of horniness to it! I’m just quite proud of how decently written it is, especially since I usually crash out on writing during the middle and end of my fics, and this one is just pretty damn alright!

The Yearbook: Club Pictures | (Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader)

I felt so wanted and famous during this series, lol! It was my first, too! You guys were just very receptive to the first chapter, which really motivated to continue. And, I know I shouldn’t, but I love Eddie being mean to us, then profusely groveling, okay?! It’s fun, I swear! But, my god, let me tell you, that last chapter in this series was literal HELL ON EARTH to write, I never want to experience that again, I think it’s like 35k words or more, I don’t know what I was thinking…

The One Where Everybody Finds Out | (Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader) (18+)

This one was just actually fun to write! It’s quite stupid, but I enjoy the stupidity of it. You watch Friends, then this comes along, you know, inevitable. Although, much like all my other fics, I feel as though it could have ended better in terms of the writing. Y’all, I’m telling you, all my fics start out great, then just get shit! How does one stop that from happening! It’s like I get summit fever, ugh!

Eddie’s Situationship | (Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader)

Don’t know if this counts, given that it’s just a blurbo, not a fic, but suck it, because I LOVE IT! Drug Dealer!Eddie, man, I love it too much. I don’t know, something about a scary man liking us (me) is so hot, AH! I just want this to happen to me, okay?! There, that’s why it’s my favorite, damn it!

Dustin Fucking Henderson | (Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader) (18+)

Listen, I’m going to be quite honest, I feel strongly mediocre about my fics, okay? They’re not anything to die for, like this one. But see, this one, it’s quite precious, because it’s, like, the second oneshot I ever post, and my MOST liked fic ever! Which, with all love, pisses me off, because it’s so POORLY written, lol! Like, if I could (totally won’t), I’d rewrite this bitch 10x better. I love the plot line! Love the blowjob! Just hate the writing!

Okay, now this is where I shut up. Mothertrucker, just post your favorite fics, okay? It’s Tumblr. You don’t have to be nervous, people have said way worse stuff than being proud of their work! @oneforthemunny @queenimmadolla @m0llygunn @munsonology @madelynraemunson

[freak-accident419]

Movie Night

Josh Futturman x GN!Reader

Summary: An hour into a movie that Josh practically begged you to watch with him, the two of you end up fucking. Various interruptions occur, but that didn’t stop you from having a great time.

Word Count: 2.6k

Content: 18+ Smut, MDNI, gender-neutral reader, no specific genitalia for reader, oral (m!receiving), riding/cowgirl, missionary, sex on the floor, Josh is a silly nerd, slight fluff, silly sex/goofy smut #3: the silliness, Josh makes you watch an important scene in the middle of sex, you two fall off the bed :3

(A/n: this is my birthday gift to the lovely @wemnui!! ilyily sm girl, i hope this brightens your very special day <3 thank you to @stop-talking for this idea ehehehe :3 and thank you to everyone for your help, support, and love. enjoy!)

-

“I’m telling you, Y/n, it’s the most important movie in the entire franchise!” Your boyfriend, Josh, exclaims eagerly as he selects a film with the TV remote.

“Yeah, you’ve said that, like, a gazillion times already,” you chuckle softly, “I promised you I’d watch it with you already, didn’t I?”

Josh Futturman being your partner meant a lot of things: having to hear his constant video game/movie references, clingy cuddles, spontaneous and unlikely events, and genuine, sincere love. But with the complete Josh Futturman Package (or rather ‘Bundle,’ he preferred), it also came with his reluctant urge to introduce you to and ramble about his dorky interests. And you found it endearing, to say the least, seeing how passionate he could be about multiple things. It was extremely adorable to you to see him rant about the most random things, from epic sci-fi movies to the mediocrity of Super Mario Bros, that you practically viewed it as his own love language. Sure, kisses and cuddles and sex were all great, but you could hear him talk his mouth off about Biotic Wars for several days in a row. Which is what led you to this moment, essentially.

The two of you would frequently spend time indoors for movie nights, snuggled up in your bedsheets in the dark where the brilliant light from the screen illuminated your faces. Tonight, you were watching a movie that Josh had always been excited to show you for a while. The two of you, like always, laid comfortably on your mattress, covered warmly in your sheets as the movie began to play in front of you. Throughout the film, you watched intently, nodding at Josh’s comments, half of the time pretending to comprehend what he was talking about—it got a bit confusing, but you were willing to try to understand it for him.

Halfway into the movie, you felt a bit tired than usual, which made you curious since it wasn’t even that late in the night. Then you figured it was just the bright screen that overwhelmed your eyes. So you shifted your position to avoid falling asleep, yet ended up placing a leg over Josh’s from the side, his thigh now in between yours. And he didn’t notice, of course, as he was too fixated on the screen.

Even the slightest touch had adjusted your breathing. And it hasn’t even been a long time since you’ve had sex with your boyfriend, so you just figured you were turned on by how close you were to him.

Grunting quietly, you needed to pull your leg back to yourself, but instead, you would accidentally and briefly grind your crotch against his thigh.

Even the slightest touch had turned you on.

Fuck this, you thought.

You leaned in, beginning to pepper kisses across Josh’s neck, your lips lingering on the skin.

“What are y—mmmm,” he hums softly in pleasure as he feels you nibble on his sensitive areas, which was sure to leave red and purple marks.

“Baby,” you began breathlessly between each nip, “I’m lovin’ this movie, like, a lot. It’s as good as you’ve claimed, and I appreciate all of your info dumps and adorable little rambles about it, but,” you pant heavily, “fuck… I need you, baby… so bad…” Okay. So maybe kisses and cuddles and sex were just as great as his nerdy rambles.

“Shit—” Josh whined, grabbing your face firmly with his soft hands and pressed his lips desperately against yours.

Moving onto Josh’s lap, you blocked the TV from his view with your body as his hands shifted down to grip your waist. “Mph—” you tried to feel for the remote on the nightstand without breaking the kiss, stretching out your arm, “we can pause it—”

“Babe, I’ve memorized all the piss breaks in this movie.” Josh glances quickly at the TV behind you, then looked back at you. “And thankfully, it looks like we’re not gonna miss anything anytime soon,” he interjects eagerly, encapsulating your lips in a deeper kiss. God, how you were head over heels for this stupid nerd.

You began to help him remove his sweatpants, tugging them off his legs and throwing them on the ground. Your hands caressed his thighs in anticipation, pressing soft kisses to the skin. Your nibbles turned into soft biting then sucking, leaving hickeys as you saw the tight tent in his boxers.

Josh whimpered as you continued nipping his flesh, finally holding onto the waistband of his underwear go pull it off, his hard cock springing out instantly. Grinning to yourself, you began to place your hand over his shaft, slowly stroking him up and down.

“G-god… f-fuck…” Josh moans as his marked up thighs slightly trembled under you, his eyes half-lidded at the sensation. Your thumb reached up towards the pink, throbbing tip, smearing the slick precum around his slit, and gaining another higher-pitched noise from him. Then you finally held onto his plush thighs, squeezing them lightly in your palms as you took his cock in your mouth.

“A-ahh, Y/n—fuck,” he whined, placing his hands in your hair, tugging desperately at the strands as you slowly bobbed your head up and down, letting your tongue run along his length. His cock was the perfect size for you, and you admired him and his body so dearly, making sure that he knew exactly that with the help of your actions.

You pulled off briefly, releasing an arousing string of saliva between your lips and his glistening wet cock. Your hand moved back up to stimulate his length again as you moved your lips down to mouth his balls, licking and sucking at the soft skin. Josh bit his bottom lip intensely before your mouth switched places with your hand once again, wrapping it back around his shaft. “Shhhit—fuck!” He cries softly, now forcing your head down with his grip on your hair, lifting his hips up to thrust harshly into your mouth. You moaned at this, sending satisfying vibrations throughout his entire body, yet also gagged quietly from the sudden control.

He held your head tightly with his fingers tangled in your strands, pushing it down and thrusting desperately into your mouth. “Shit—” he whimpers frantically, his breathing becoming unstable as he let out several uneven pants. “Y/n! Fuck! Oh, fuck, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum, fuck—!”

The two of you moaned loudly as you felt exuberant ropes of his warm, white semen spurt deeply into your mouth, your nose pressed against his pelvis as you swallowed his entire release. Your lips that were wrapped around his cock continued to move along his length in order to help him ride his high.

“Fuck…” he muttered, pulling off his shirt desperately, then reaching for yours until your clothes were sprawled out messily and carelessly on the floor, the two of you completely naked with each other. Josh positioned you over his lap, lining up his hard, throbbing cock with your entrance. Then you finally sank down on him, feeling his shaft slightly stretch your hole, your walls wrapping around him soothingly.

“Oh, fuuuck,” you moan out, pressing your lips against his passionately, gently cupping his face in affection. Your foreheads were pressed together once you slowly began to rock your hips against his, letting his cock push further and further into you with every deep movement.

“Oh, shit—” Josh whines as your hands find his shoulders, holding onto him for dear life as you moved faster, practically bouncing on his dick. With every moment you sank down, your sensitive parts would grind against his firm pelvic bone, moaning from the pleasing and granting sensation. Your overlapping sounds of lust and arousal created a beautifully lewd symphony. As you rode him relentlessly, he cupped your ass firmly in one hand and grasped at your waist with the other, guiding your rapid movements on his cock.

As your body slammed down against him, his length caressing your sensitive walls with every thrust, the wet sound of skin slapping against skin echoed in the small room. Your gaze on each other had stilled lustfully as you indulged in the noise of the fast, erotic pounding.

Suddenly, Josh slightly froze, and at the time, you couldn’t tell if he either saw or heard the movie scene from behind you, but he scrambled for the remote and seized your movements desperately. “Wait, wait, wait, fuck!” He whined as he rewinded the film, making you look back at the screen in utter confusion.

“Josh, what the hell—”

“This is the most important part of the whole movie!” He exclaims stressfully, making you pout as you sat vacantly on his cock, his length still deep inside of you.

“Josh—”

“Sh-sh-sh—Just watch!” He hushed, unpausing the movie, increasing the volume before setting the remote down.

A few minutes passed by as the two of you watched in this position.

And then…

“Holy shit!” You shouted in surprise, seeing Josh’s beaming expression. “What?!”

“I know,” he chuckles.

“You’re telling me—You’re telling me he dies?!”

“Yeah—”

“But—But he’s the most important character in the movie! Hell, he’s the main character, I don’t—” you scoff, yet with a slight, amused grin. “I mean, does it really end like that?! Him being killed by his stupid fuckin’ clone?!”

“Well, technically, yeah,” Josh shrugged.

“Shit,” you huffed, raising an eyebrow as the scene continued to play out, concluding with the end credits. Your boyfriend then paused the movie with the remote, looking at you with a soft, anticipatory grin.

“So…? What did you think?”

“That was… awesome, baby,” you giggle.

“Yeah? Wait, wait, seriously? You’re not just saying that because I love it, right?” He stammers before you cut him off with a deep, sweet kiss.

“It was genuinely amazing, my love,” you confirmed warmly.

“God, I fucking love you,” he grins, pushing you down on your back near the edge of the bed, pressing his lips against your mouth and then to your neck. “You’re, like, the coolest person ever,” he mumbles in between each affectionate nip before moving into you again.

“Ah, fuck—!” You whine softly as his cock fills you up again, moving at a much faster pace to begin with. Your legs involuntarily wrap around his back as Josh struggles to push even deeper inside of you. “Ah! J-Josh! H-Holy fuck!”

The bed began to creak and shake violently as the two of you moved together passionately together, striving to be even closer to each other. Your breathless moans filled the room as the sound of his cock ramming into your tight hole persisted.

“O-oh, fuck!” Josh cries as he continued deeply and swiftly ravaging your insides, desperately attempting to reach your sweet spot. His fingernails sink into your hips as you moan, legs tightening around him to bring him closer until the two of you rolled off the bed.

You two fell off the goddamn bed.

Josh was still inside of you, yet you were there lying on top of him. You stared at each other for a while before bursting out in blissful and elated laughter, burying your face in Josh’s neck. “Oh my fucking god,” you wheeze, pressing your lips affectionately to his skin.

“You’re so perfect…” he whispers softly, disregarding the embarrassing moment the two of you had, stroking your hair gently. “How did I get so lucky to have you?”

“Honestly?” You chuckle, lifting up your head to face him. “It was your sad, big hazel eyes and loser, cringefail personality that truly captivated me.”

Josh snickered, grabbing your face gently in his hands to peck your lips. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m ridiculous?” You scoff lightheartedly. “You’re the one who paused our literal fucking because I missed a scene in that nerd movie.”

“What? I thought you said you liked it,” he pouted.

You kissed his pout away. “Doesn’t mean it’s not nerdy.” You watched him frown and kissed him again. “But you know what? You’re my nerd. I love you.”

He was completely smitten with you, a red blush painted softly over his freckles. “I know.”

A Star Wars reference? Is he fucking joking? “If you don’t say it back, Han Solo, I’ll move off your dick and get off in the bathroom by myself.”

“No, no, no!” He whines, pressing his lips against yours passionately, slipping his tongue in your mouth to deepen it. “I love you too,” he mumbles.

Finally, you sat up, supporting yourself with your hands on Josh’s chest, his cock still snug inside of you. You watched his hands grip your waist as you finally started to move against him, slowly and sweetly this time.

“Fuck…” he whispers, trying to move his hips with yours as his length thrusted in and out of your needy hole. As you began to ride him, his dick would slide so easily and satisfyingly inside of you, brushing your walls with pleasure and warmth.

“Oh, yes…” you moan gently. “Oh, fuck…”

The two of you remained on the floor, your hips beginning to move faster after each thrust. Josh’s back arched as he pushed himself deeper inside of you, filling your hole completely. “Fuck,” he mutters.

“Josh! O-oh! Oh, fuck, baby…” your sweet sounds escaped your lips as your hips slammed into each other in unison, urgently bouncing on his hard, throbbing cock. “Ah-ahhh!”

You felt yourself getting closer, your own thighs trembling as Josh’s movements faltered. You placed your hand on the ground beside his head and lowered the rest of your body down to connect each other’s lips. You tasted him enthusiastically, kissing him with so much passion and lust while your movements began to stutter.

“I—fuck, I’m so close,” you mutter in between hot kisses.

“Mmm—fuck, Y/n, me too,” he whimpers, hips still trying to move up inside of you.

“Shit—cum for me,” you whisper gently as you were about to reach your release, “cum for me, baby…”

And just like that, your low, passionate words sent him right to the fucking edge.

“Ah—Y/n—Fuuuck!” He moaned loudly, arching his hips up as he pressed yours down against him, releasing deeply and heavily inside of you. His hot, thick cum painted your walls entirely, filling up your hole so generously in explosive bursts. The overwhelming, arousing feeling had prompted you to cum immediately right after him, holding his body close and tight to yours as you clenched around him completely. Instantly, your lips were reattached to yours, going limp and collapsing on top of him in exhaustion.

The two of you laid there on the floor, extremely spent, panting heavily and catching your breath. Strands of your hair were stuck to your sweaty foreheads as your heart beat almost rapidly.

“You… You’re amazing…” Josh mumbles with a giddy, flushed smile on his face.

You chuckled in response, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder. “Silly,” you mutter out, moving your head to rest it on his bare chest, getting a view of his belongings or junk under the bed. And then… “Is that—” Scoffing in awe, you stretched your arm out and grabbed a DVD case. “My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic Season 4? Babe, wh—”

“Hey, hey, that’s—” he stresses, throwing the case far away and out of your grasp. “That’s uh… That’s not mine.”

“Well, then who’s is it?” You raise an eyebrow with teasing grin.

Josh pauses then groaned in utter defeat. “Fine! Fine, it’s uh… it’s mine.” Before you could laugh or make another comment, he interjects, “But you don’t understand the very complicated and intricate lore of the whole series, okay? Sure, it seems like any other children’s cartoon full of mindless fillers and fluff pieces, but there’s so much more than that! Arguably, those ponies have gone through so much hell, and it’s like—you know?”

You smirked playfully, cupping the side of his face with one hand. “So what, are you gonna start forcing me to watch the whole series too?”

“No! No… I mean… It would be cool—but no!” He stammers hesitantly.

Your eyebrows relaxed as your grin widens. “Yeah, well… doesn’t matter either way because I already watched the whole series.”

His eyes widened, almost comically.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously,” you nod.

Josh pauses then let out a loud, yet delighted groan.

“Fuck, how could you get any more perfect for me?!”

[snakeautistic]

I love eating food “wrong” because it makes the experience about 10 times more enjoyable. It used to drive my parents crazy but that didn’t stop me!! I would pick the chocolate chips out of my cookies and eat them separately, split apart the frosting from cake, sort my M&Ms and eat them in a very specific way- (first, you sort them into different colors, then you eat them until you have the same amount of each color, and then you eat them alternately in least to most favorite color order).

I also had a phase where I used to buy a giant bag of smarties and label every wrapper with a number and eat from the highest number counting down, saving any of the white smarties in a bag until I’d eaten the rest of them. No clue why I did this but it made that mediocre candy extremely fun.

Doing stuff like that doesn’t hurt anyone and it’s fun so I don’t get why it gets pushback sometimes!

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

Obsidian Salt

Summary: A little Witch!Reader x Demon!Rhys AU for my Spooky Season Fic List

-------

My hands shake around the ancient text, the worn tome heavy and dust laden from years upon years of sitting on a shelf, untouched and forgotten. The old latin script is illegible in places, the ink faded and hidden under unidentifiable stains; the parchment is dog-eared and scribbled in, the margins full of strange, archaic markings I’ve never seen used in our Coven’s rune work. These are not the spells of my ancestors, not the runes my mother and grandmother cast upon the old foundations of our family home. We are a family of witches, dating back beyond the ages of written word; I am supposed to carry on that legacy, but truth be told, I’ve always been terrible at spellwork. My potions are mediocre; powers of persuasion abysmal. I truly am a poor excuse for a witch, and everyone in the coven knows it. Perhaps that is why Sister Ruth chose me to put on a demonstration at the Solstice Festival tomorrow. If I cannot prove my worth, well, maybe it is in the best interest of the coven to throw me out, or worse, make a sacrifice out of me. 

I would not be the first.

I grip the tome a little tighter. I must prove my usefulness. I cannot fail my sisters, or worse, my grandmother.  She raised eight successful witches, it would be to her utter shame to have been my teacher all these years for nothing. 

I draw a shaking breath. These spells are old magic. Dark magic. But I must get good at something quickly, and the gods know I will not get there on any natural talent. Perhaps I don’t need to be a natural. Perhaps I just need to summon something that is. 

On the old wood floor of our basement, I have laid the circle of obsidian salt in three overlapping circles, each etched with runes of chalk for protection. Just in case, I’ve dusted the floor with dried rosemary and anise seeds; an added barrier against whatever evil I might accidentally conjure if this goes wrong. My mother’s amulet feels heavy beneath my sweater, the cold iron biting against my skin as if in warning against what I am about to do.

I take another deep breath and ignore the warning. I must not fail.

The words are clunky, foreign on my tongue, the first couple of tries produces no results at all. Perhaps I really am the worst witch ever!

I grip the tome so tight the spine groans as I try again, slower this time, sounding out each word piece by piece. I will not fail.

The whole basement is lit with candles and as I finish the final words of the spell, the light suddenly snuffs itself out. 

The air in the room drops to near freezing temperatures. My hands so stiff and shaky around the old tome that the book slips from my hands and falls somewhere in the darkness. I make it onto my knees to look for it in a mad scramble before the sound of rushing wind fills the tiny room. It’s so loud I have to cover my ears with my shaking hands. 

In the center of the salt ring, dark shadows begin to slither out from a crack in the floor, hissing like a dozen tiny snakes. 

What have I done?!

I scramble to find the book in the dark, hands tearing over the anise seeds and clumps of rosemary. Perhaps the crushed scent of herbs will be enough to ward off whatever terrible shadow I’ve just called upon!

The temperature of the room continues to drop, lower and lower, even as the screeching wind gets louder and louder. The shadows within the circle grow darker and thicker by the moment, spinning now like a whirlwind. At least the salt holds. 

And then, as quickly as the noise had begun, it suddenly quiets. All the candles light themselves again, allowing me to see where I’d dropped the book: Directly into the circle, having bounced over the line, and it now sits at the feet of the most handsome male I’ve ever seen in my life.

I can do nothing but stare. I had meant to summon some help, the soul of an old mage or a spirit from another world, perhaps, but not… well, whatever he is. He’s definitely alive, his bronze, bair chest rising and falling, making the swirl of dark ink over his skin move in twining patterns. Not a spirit, though I do not know what to make of the great, bat-like wings that sprout from his back, the leathery membrane twitching as he brings them close to his body to avoid the barrier the salt creates. And his eyes! Gods, there like two blazing, violet suns inside the sharp planes of his face. 

“Well isn’t this interesting,” he purrs, voice smooth as velvet.

“Gods, what have I done?” I whisper to no one in particular.

His mouth twists in a devilish grin as he bends down to pick up my tome. From the tips of his fingers come dark claws. A bit of living shadow curls over his wrist, moving like snakes across the worn pages. “No gods here, Darling.”

I, somehow, find it within me to stand, despite my shaking legs. It is still terribly cold in this basement; the source of it seems to be coming from him. “What are you?”

He chuckles as he flips through the pages, claws running affectionately over the runes written in the margins. “Why don’t you come closer and I’ll show you?”

The longer I watch him the more off I realize he is. There are fangs in his mouth, the sharp tips of them glinting in the candlelight. Tiny, glittering drops of starlight glisten in the strands of his raven-black hair. Intertwined within the ink across his chest are smaller versions of the runes written within the pages of the book. 

“I’ll stay right here,” I say.

He sticks out his full lower lip in a pout. “That’s no fun!”

He takes a step closer to the line of salt, testing the barrier with the tip of his boot. At least I managed to summon him half-way decent in a dark, leather pair of pants and boots. I don’t know what I’d do if I had summoned him fully nude. 

My cheeks flush at the thought, drifting down to follow the defined V of his abs, and where his pants slide low on his hips. If he were human I’d climb him like a tree. 

“Don’t tell me you summoned me just to gawk?” He presses. When he catches where my eyes are on his body, he adds, “Although you’re welcome to enjoy the view for as long as you like.”

I let out a huff. “I didn’t summon you for anything! I was trying to talk to the spirits.”

“There’s only one spell that can summon me, and you picked it,” he turns the book to show me the exact page I’d been reading from. “So tell me, what is it you want, Witchling?”

The way he says Witchling makes my skin flush; the heat in his tone enough to make me second guess myself. Why did I think that spell would summon something else? 

Perhaps I am a fool for saying it, but I blurt, “I need help.”

“Do tell,” he purrs.

“I’m supposed to give my coven a display of my magic tomorrow, for the Solstice, and well… I’m kind of the worst witch ever.” 

He glances at the herbs on the floor, and then back up to me. I swear there are actual violet flames moving around within his irises. I don’t know what he is, but I don’t think it’s anything that can help me. But how am I supposed to send him back without the book?

“I meant to summon a spirit to guide me in some quick magic. I didn’t mean to summon, well, whatever you are.”

“I am many things,” he says, walking a slow circle around the barrier, testing it. It’s like watching a recently caged animal at the zoo; he’s testing every point for a weak spot, and if he finds it, he’s using it. 

I swallow the lump in my throat. What do I do if he gets out?

“But you can call me Rhys.”

If there is any heat left in the room, it leaves in a rush. “As in Rhysand? One of the Princes of Hel?”

Rhys drags his claws over the invisible barrier the salt creates and I watch the magic ripple and pulse under those sharp tips. “Perhaps.”

“You need to go back,” I say in panic, even though I know it can’t work that way. I summoned him. I have to be the one to send him back. Without the book, Hel, even with the book, I can’t do anything. 

“Then send me back, Witchling.”

I’m going to have to get my grandmother, and everyone is going to know that not only am I a failure as a witch, but I am a danger to all of us. I can’t even read a spell book right! I summoned a Prince of Hel by accident!

I chew on my thumbnail, pacing now myself around the outside edges of the salt. What do I do? What do I do?

“Oh but you can’t, can you?” He teases, knocking the book against the barrier. “Not without this pretty little thing.”

The dried herbs crunch under my boots as I keep pacing. There are no other tomes like that accessible to me, not without the Elders knowledge. This one had slipped past unnoticed in my grandmother’s grand collection, I had found it by sheer luck. There were no other texts to help me out of this one, and at this rate, even if there was, could I even get it to work?

“So how about we do this my way, hmm?”

A shiver crawls its way up my spine. 

“You break the barrier, and I will help you with your little Solstice tomorrow.”

I finally turn to look at him. “You would do that?”

“After tomorrow night, you can send me back and we can pretend this whole thing was a bad dream.”

Maybe this wasn’t a mistake after all! Maybe I can still turn this around!

“You won’t cause any trouble?” I ask.

He puts a clawed hand over his heart. “I will not cause any trouble.”

“You swear it?”

“I cannot break my word, Darling,” he returns. 

My hands shake. What other choice do I have? “Just until the Solstice passes.”

“I promise you, that is all the time I will need.” I have to admit, his voice is strangely soothing. He does not strike me as some malevolent ruler of darkness at all. 

I grab a broom off the wall. “It’s a bargain then.”

He grins wolfishly the entire time, watching my every step as I approach with the intensity of a wolf stalking a deer. 

I swallow the lump in my throat. It’s only one night, what could one night hurt? With one last shaking breath, I drag the broom through the salt and break the seal.

The book clatters to the floor for a second time tonight, as he lunges forward, a clawed hand wrapping around my neck as his momentum propels me back against the wall. I hit the worn stones so hard dust rains down from the ceiling. 

Panic grips me; I have no magic to save me as a real witch ought. He’s taller than I thought he was, towering over me as his grip on me tightens to the point of pain, the tips of his claws leaving indents in my skin.  Rhys chuckles at my plight as he leans down and brushes his lips over mine in the ghost of a kiss. Ice fills my veins at the contact. “Silly little, Witchling, a night is more than enough to make you mine.”

[cherigu]

— ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Dulce Venganza!

Genre: smut Pairing: sub!jeongguk x softdom!reader Word Count: 2.5k Warnings: college!au, fratboy!jk, grinding, solo masturbation (m), hand job (m), nipple sucking, vaginal penetration, cowgirl position, unprotected sex, overstimulation, PUSSY WHIPPED JK, fluffy ending

⊹₊┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ୨୧ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈₊⊹

Attending a party held by the most popular fraternity was a one-way ticket to seeing everyone you despised, something you should’ve kept in mind before you found yourself getting holes burned into by your ex’s laser eyes across the room. You had done fairly well in minding your business all night, having gone to this party mainly for the drinks. This meant you hadn’t socialized much all night, most of your friends abandoning you for some mediocre dude upstairs. 

All you were here for was to stand still by the drinks table and look pretty. You knew how to doll up, wearing a two-piece mini skirt with a matching crop top. It accentuated your body shape and showed your assets just right. Instead of working in your favor and attracting a good-looking guy to spend the night with, it seemed to work against you since your ex couldn’t seem to look away. Even while having his tongue shoved throat-deep into a girl, he still managed to maintain eye contact with you

You knew what his plan was, he wanted to make you as jealous as possible tonight. Unfortunately for him, you couldn’t care less about what he chose to do with his life anymore. Whatever he was doing was just pathetic at this point, desperately wanting to catch the attention of somebody who no longer found him on her list of priorities.

Even then, you couldn’t find it in you to ignore his petty attempt at making you mad. It was the least you could do to spice up the night. Although the show he put on with the girl on the dance floor didn’t upset you in the least, you were sure he would be affected if the roles were reversed. Two could play at that game, even if you secretly knew that this would ultimately be a poor excuse for hooking up with someone for the night. 

You smirked to yourself while you scanned the crowd of bodies, needing to find someone who’d hit him right where it hurts, he deserved it after all. Your eyes immediately caught another pair, those of a person who’d make for a perfect target. Jeon Jeongguk.

Popular athlete, leader of the frat, host of the party and not to mention, attractive. The guy fulfilled all of the qualities your ex lacked and surely would make him weep like a little baby at night because you deserved better than him, which wouldn’t be a lie. You weren’t a nobody in your class, owning a fair share of popularity gave you a striking social life. Apart from your captivating personality, came the out-of-this-world beauty. 

This was another reason you didn’t take time to second guess your plan, you knew any guy would feel rather accomplished to even breathe your air, let alone have a night with you. You had an unmatched ability to coin any man, even those like pretty boy Jeon. Undoubtedly the perfect woman, it’d make for a great achievement to boast about to the guys lining up at your feet for a chance. 

So you began to strut towards Jeongguk, watching the smug smirk on his face grow as the distance between the two of you grew. “Eyed me long enough, usually they crawl over immediately after seeing me stare back. Almost thought I’d have to break the tradition and approach you first” He joked through the loud music.

“How sweet of you” You sneered, lightly hitting his chest with the back of your manicured hand before stretching it out towards him. “Wanna dance?” 

“Thought you’d never ask” He smiled, taking your hand in his and letting you drag him to the dance floor. Pushing your way through the sea of sweaty bodies that reeked of alcohol, you were able to find a spot to dance with Jeongguk in.

Giving your ex a clear view, you pressed your back into the boy behind you, wrapping your arms around his neck and sensually moving your body against him. His hands lowered to your waist, taking a firm hold of it when he felt you begin to grind against him.

He lowered his head down to your ear, close enough to whisper so you could hear him easier over the blaring speakers. “Dude in front of us will not stop shooting daggers at me, babe” 

You ceased your actions to turn around and face him, loosely snaking your hands around either side of his neck and cocking your head, “I know, ‘s why im doing this” You chuckled. He brought a hand up to his chest to feign offense, “So you’re telling me that pretty girl is using the Jeon Jeongguk to her advantage?” 

“Don’t flatter yourself too much, are you gonna help me or not?” You asked, needing to know if he was still okay with this going forward. “Wanna see how upset he can get?” He smiled, eyes darting down to your plump, glossy lips. “Mmm, show me” 

With that, he pressed his lips into yours, satisfied with how you immediately melted into the kiss. The taste of your cherry-flavored gloss overwhelmed his senses, almost forgetting what all of this was about. Similar to him, any thought of your original plan was out the window, solely focusing on basking in his sweet taste. Your lips moved in sync, molding together perfectly. 

The two of you knew of each other but never took the chance to pay much attention. You were too focused on yourself to enter the dating world, as he was too busy with his sports to do the same. But this kiss, this kiss was enough to show the both of you what you had missed out on. It didn’t take much for the two of you to crave more.

The slight nibble on his lower lip had him rubbing his clothed length on you, causing you to pull him even closer to deepen the kiss. You slowly pulled away, desperate for air but not yet wanting to break the kiss. He looked so pretty above you, swollen lips and big doe eyes silently pleading to be kissed again. Just as he was about to lean in again, you pressed a finger to his lips, “Not here.” 

He cocked a brow in confusion, following you upstairs into an empty bedroom nevertheless. You were quick to continue the kiss, swiftly locking the door and pushing his back into it. You swirled your tongue around his, swallowing the breathy moans he let out. Your leg came up in between his own, firmly propping it against his crotch as he began to grind down on it.

The feel of his hard-on made your stomach flip and you suddenly found yourself asking Jeongguk permission to remove his shirt to which he agreed. Immense pleasure shot through him as his tip rubbed against your thigh, rapidly bringing him down from the short high he was on.

“W-wait Y/n..” He pulled back, “He isn’t here anymore” his puzzled look made you snicker at his oblivion. “What, did you want an audience?” You asked, watching his chest heave up and down at the feel of your leg still pressed against him. You cupped his cheek, lifting his gaze towards you, “This stopped being about him as soon as you kissed me” You inched your knee higher, “But we can stop if this is outside of your intentions.” your finger grazed his cheek affectionately, watching him melt into your touch.

“No! I mean… No, it’s alright..” He confirmed, brushing the stray hairs out of your beautiful face. Fighting the urge to kiss him, you focused on getting comfortable. “Go sit on the bed and take your pants off, baby” You pressed a kiss to his cheek before letting him go on to follow your instruction, watching him sit against the headboard and quickly remove his pants along with his Calvin Klein boxers.

His pretty cock sprung out, thick veins leading to the swollen red tip that grazed his lower belly. You walked towards the foot of the bed, helping you get a more direct view of Jeongguk’s figure. “Want you to touch yourself for me, yea?” You asked, smiling at the compliant nod you received. You began to unzip the back of your corset-like top, letting it fall to the floor exposing your perky tits.

Content with Jeongguks reaction, who eyed you down with his bottom lip caught in his teeth while he gave a light squeeze to his length, you began to slowly slide your skirt down. You made sure to wiggle your hips a bit, adding to the show you were putting on for him. Once your skirt was fully discarded, you pulled down the skimpy pair of red laced panties you’d purposely worn for tonight, not knowing that the boy who’d be lucky enough to see them would be Jeongguk. 

You walked over to the side of the bed as he followed you with his eyes, watching you climb the bed and sit on his lap, close enough to his cock that he could almost feel the heat radiating from your core. He instinctively bucked his hips up, searching for your touch after he let his hand fall to his side. “Eager baby?” You asked before he mumbled a quiet “Yes.”

Your hand came down to his cock, using the thick glob of precum that had gathered on his tip to easily glide your hand up and down his shaft. He threw his head back at the way your hand worked around him, pressing your fingers into his weak spots like you’d done this with him before. “Right the-ahh” You ripped a whiny moan from his mouth by brushing your fingers under the head of his cock, showing you he no longer cared about who could hear him, if they even could.

Unable to keep his hands to himself at this point, he brought one down to grip the side of your hip, while the other trailed up to cup your breast. He rubbed the hardened bud, making your hand fasten its pace on his cock. “Wan’ you” He looked up at you with glossy eyes, never breaking eye contact as he leaned down to latch his wet tongue onto your nipple, swirling his wet tongue around your soft skin.

You sucked air through your teeth at the sensation, bringing your free hand to run your fingers through his wavy locks while you stared in admiration at the state you had him in. So compliant and malleable under you, ready to pleasure you at any moment yet so needy for the bliss of his own. “Just like that Gukkie..”

A combination of your moans and the sound of your hand tugging on his cock filled the room as he progressively began to leak more, a sign that he would come soon. His breaths became arrhythmic while his chest pressed flush against yours, hearing him become more vocal by the second.  

As much as you’d like to watch him whine around your tits while he came undone beneath you, your core was aching for his thick cock to fill you up. “Uh uh,” you tutted, ripping your hand away from him and chuckling at his protesting mewls, “Inside” You caught his lips in your mouth, slowly using your hand to guide his cock. You hovered above him, allowing your arousal to drip down his shaft. “Ride me, y/n, p-please” He choked out, not needing to say more before you sharply sunk down on his cock. 

He felt his breath hitch in his throat and limbs turn into jelly as his cock entered your plush walls, growing slightly dizzy at the feel of your immense wetness coating his shaft. Due to contrary belief, he wasn’t too much of a ladies man. Being too immersed in his studies and sports, he only had time for a casual hookup every once in a while. Despite his lack of exposure to women, he swore that it couldn’t get better than you. The way you so pleasantly sucked his cock into your tight pussy had him seeing stars, leaving him an incoherent mess of babbles underneath you.

As for you, the stretch his girthy cock had offered you was unmatched. The position you were in had his tip grazing your G-spot every time you bounced on his length. You had set a gentle pace, not wanting to make Jeongguk cum before you could do it together. Your stomach was already feeling hot and tight for sure, but at the same time, you wanted to see how much Jeongguk could take. 

At this point, he wouldn’t be able to hold on for much longer before he suddenly bucked his hips up, earning a moan-gasp mixed with both pleasure and surprise. “Can’t s-stop.” He feverishly moved against you, causing your hands to land on his shoulders for balance purposes.

The headboard rocked against the wall while you attempted to sputter a “Keep going, be a good boy and make me cum” as his cock continue to drill into your insides. “Feel so good” He cried out, screwing his eyes shut as he felt his seed eager to spill into you. “L-love your pussy.. Love how you feel a-around me, could do this for hours” He whimpered, fucked so out of his mind that the only thing he could think of was your cunt and nothing else. “Yea?” you breathed out, “Gonna make me cum around your cock?” You asked.

“F-fuck mhmm, gonna-” He threw his head back, unable to even keep talking. “Look at you baby, can’t even form a sentence. Do your friends know what a whore you are in bed?” You grabbed his chin to raise his face to yours, “Cum with me.” And with that, he was pumping his load deep into your pussy while it mixed with your own essence, making the fluids messily run down his balls and thighs.

It still wasn’t enough for him to halt his movements, feeling like he couldn’t get enough of you. Even through stuttering hips, he continued to pound his cock into your sensitive cunt. It wasn’t until you tapped his bicep to let him know that the pleasure was fading into pain, that he finally came back to his senses and slowed his thrusts until coming to a full stop.

You let your weak body fall on top of his, feeling his big arms wrap around you while he gently pulled out his cock. The two of you took your time to come down from your highs, needing to catch your breath for a minute. He was still feeling the aftershocks of overstimulating himself while trying to recover from the trance you had put him under. Your fingers soothingly rubbed circles on his skin, whispering a light “You okay?” against him. He hummed in response and held you tighter, before feeling your body vibrate on top of him as you broke out in giggles.

“What?” He smiled, watching you lift up your head to face him. “Nothing, just didn’t expect you to go all pussy-drunk on me” You leaned down to kiss his rosy-tinted cheeks. “What can I say, takes a special one to unlock that side of me.” He grinned, showing his bunny teeth even after you had wrecked him. “How flattering.” You leaned back down to lay your head on his chest, wanting to spend some time with him before the night ended.

Even if the two of you knew this wouldn’t be the last of it.

A/N: wake up babe cherigu posted

[egcdeath]

the l word

pairing: joel miller x reader

summary: the five times you realized that you loved joel, and the first time one of you says it. 

word count: 9.1k

warnings: canon divergent, no apocalypse, 5+1 fic, hurt/comfort, a certain someone gets punched, brief mention of postpartum depression & abandonment, really brief mention of physical abuse in 3, fluff, domestic fluff, angst with a happy ending, found family

author’s note: happy very early valentine’s day! this is part three of the soccer parents au, you can read spectator sport (p1) and clean sheet (p2) here!

this fic would not be possible if it were not for the help of @freakinfairykind, who sent me the idea for scene 3 and listened to my thought vomit whenever i hit a roadblock! you can thank them for the brilliance that is what occurs in that scene :)! enjoy!

part four / series masterlist

Zero

After Nathan, you were sure that you would never fall in love again. Love was supposed to be beautiful and soft—a random bouquet of flowers, having a whole conversation with just your eyes, sweet messages sent to you when you expected it least and needed it most, and foot massages after a long day. For you, love had been nothing of the sort—settling for mediocrity, spitting out venomous words during arguments, and biting back tears on forgotten anniversaries. 

Love wasn’t kind or patient, or rainbows and flowers. Love was a storm cloud that followed you around when you were around him, pouring sadness and anger on you and striking you with lightning bolts of resentment. 

Maybe some people just simply weren’t meant for love. Maybe you were one of them.

One

After years of trying to hold together a failing marriage and hide the myriad of painful feelings you were going through for the sake of your daughter, bottling up your feelings had become your preferred coping mechanism to everyday stressors. 

For the most part, it worked for you. Sure, some days were harder than others, and the smallest confrontation or blip in the day would send you spiraling; but more often than not, you were able to compartmentalize whatever was bothering you and save it for a rainy day.

That was part of what worked so well about the relationship you had with Joel during the soccer season—you had the opportunity to unscrew the lid of the shaken bottle of your feelings just a little bit, taking some of the edge off by yelling about completely inconsequential things. But now, you don't have that outlet. And today was one of those days that you desperately needed it. 

Nathan had come by to pick up Chloe just a bit ago, and it was very obvious that she hadn’t exactly wanted to spend her weekend with him. Some of her friends were going to the mall and having a sleepover, and because Nathan wasn’t particularly fond of their parents, he’d very openly told her no. She begged and pleaded to stay with you (mainly so she could go hang out with her friends), which of course broke your heart a little bit, but also led to a pretty dramatic outburst from your daughter to Nathan when he’d picked her up.

“You’re raising a spoiled little brat,” he hissed at you, pointing an accusatory finger once Chloe was in the car. 

“At least I’m raising her. You only show up when it’s convenient for you,” you shot back. If Nathan wanted to stoop low, you could fall to his level. “Put your finger down. She’s watching us.”

“A little argument won’t hurt her,” he scoffed. “See? You’re proving my point: you spoil her too much.”

“Because years of watching her parents bicker wasn’t traumatic enough? Get in the fucking car, Nathan.”

He huffed, looking back at the car, then over at you. “Fine. But before I go, I’d appreciate it if you stopped talking poorly about me in front of her. Clearly she’s listening to you and acting out because of it.”

“Have you considered that you’re just a shit father and maybe that’s why she doesn’t like you?” you were already making your way back inside, feeling the avalanche of emotions beginning to stir inside of you, and a little frightened of what might come out next. 

“You’re still such a bitch. Every day I praise every deity that’s out there that I left your sorry ass.”

You were viciously fighting the urge to get the last word in, knowing that whatever would come out next wouldn’t be good, and you certainly didn’t want Chloe seeing you like that. You left him with a sarcastic thumbs up, then slammed your front door, taking deep breaths to attempt to calm yourself down.

You crumbled down in front of the door, still maintaining slow and deep breaths. It was no big deal. Nathan just says stuff like that to stir the pot. You just needed to find something to take your mind off of everything. Your mind went to the scarf you’d been working on crocheting, something you could mindlessly do for a little while while you cooled off. 

The scarf was going well. You were calmly crocheting the evening away when you checked your phone to find a few apologetic messages from your coworkers. Feeling confused, you went on to check your email, only to find that the promotion you’d spent the last few months of your life slaving away for had been given to someone else—someone who had worked half as hard as you, and even took credit for a few of your projects. 

Your hands shook as you set down your phone and attempted to pick back up the crochet hook. You were fine, right? Sometimes these things just happen. Sometimes you sacrifice hours of your free time, hours of time you’ll never get back with your child, or significant other, hours you’ll never get back of sleep, hours of-

You cut your mind off, tossing aside the scarf and taking a deep breath. You were gonna be okay. This just meant you could take your foot off the gas going forward, since your work, effort, and time clearly was not being valued. Maybe you would just sit at your desk and play games, then slap your name on projects and presentations like Naomi. Maybe you’d just-

Your phone began to vibrate on your bed and your immediate reaction was to silence it, but upon checking the contact name, you became slightly more inclined to answer. 

“Hey! I almost thought you weren’t gonna pick up,” the man on the other end chuckled. 

“Is everything okay?” you asked, although you weren’t sure you’d be able to handle anything else today. With how your day was going, Joel was probably calling you to break up.

“Better than okay. We finished up early, and Sarah’s already at her friend’s. You in the mood for some company?”

No, not particularly. In fact, if Joel came over, you’d probably end up going off on him over something you don’t really mean, successfully putting an end to the best thing you’ve had in a while. 

“Uh,” your voice cracked, and a rogue tear slipped down your face. You didn’t even know that you were on the brink of tears. “I’m sorry,” you uttered, digging the heels of your hands into your eyes. 

“Sorry for what? You don’t have to feel bad for not wanting me over,” he said genuinely, not picking up on your emotional state over the phone. 

“No, I do want you over,” you whimpered. “I just… I don’t want to lose you, too.”

“What? I promise you I’m not going anywhere. Well, I’m going home now, but I can also come to your place if you want me to.”

“Please,” you grit out. 

“You okay?” he asked, finally catching on to the fact that something was very off with you. 

“I don’t know,” you confessed. 

“Do you want me to stay on the phone with you?”

“No.”

“You sure you want me to come over?”

“Yeah,” you sniffled, desperately trying to fend off your tears.

“Okay, sweetheart. I’ll see you soon, alright?”

“Bye,” you hung up, burrowing yourself under layers of blankets and curling up onto your side. Maybe this tidal wave of emotions would pass by the time Joel got to your place. You closed your eyes as you took deep, shaky breaths, wiping away stray tears every now and then as they fell. You could pull yourself together. 

You kept telling yourself this as you dragged yourself out of bed to answer the door, but the moment you saw Joel with a box of chocolates and a bouquet of flowers, you completely lost it. He immediately tossed the items down and pulled you into a tight embrace, not exactly knowing what was wrong, but instinctually wanting to comfort you regardless. 

You didn’t even really know what it was either. Sure, you were pissed that you’d lost the promotion, and even more upset that Nathan had called your daughter a name while insulting your parenting skills, but it was far more than that. It was every little thing from the past two months that had upset you in some capacity that you had decided to push as far down as possible. 

You sobbed until your throat was raw and your eyes grew sore from crying so much. The whole time Joel wordlessly held you, rubbing soothing circles into your back and swaying you back and forth just the slightest bit. You almost felt like your tears would never stop, and the more you willed yourself to pull it together, the harder it was to do so. 

Finally, you pulled away, head hanging with humiliation by the emotions abruptly pouring out of you. You truly felt like a live wire. You should’ve just told Joel not to come over. 

“Want me to run you a bath?” he asked softly, tilting your chin up so he could look at you, and rubbing a thumb over your cheek. “Or is there anything I can do to make you feel better?”

“A bath is good,” you said quietly, averting your gaze. You almost felt like a toddler in the midst of a tantrum. The shame of being a grown woman who couldn’t even control her emotions was overwhelming, but Joel didn’t seem to mind much at all. He simply led you up to your bathroom and quietly filled the tub for you, checking it every now and then to make sure it wasn’t too hot. Once the tub was filled up, he helped you undress, then held your hand as you stepped into the tub. 

“Would you like me to stay?” Joel asked as you settled into the tub. 

“Not really,” you admitted. 

“Okay. Just yell for me if you need anything. I’ll be downstairs.”

Somehow, the bath was everything you needed. It was just warm enough to relax your rather tense muscles, and just quiet enough to allow you to actually process your thoughts. You sat and soaked in the bath for a while, just inhaling the scent of lavender, and trying your best to let go of the feelings that you’d been holding onto for so long. 

Eventually, you felt ready to talk about things, and called out Joel’s name, who after a moment, showed up in your bathroom and sat down on a towel next to the tub. 

“How are you feeling?” he asked, reaching for your pruny hand. 

“Better,” you answered as you laced your fingers with his.  

“Well, I’m here when you feel ready to talk about it. And if you don’t feel ready to talk about it, that’s okay too.” 

“Okay,” you said quietly. “I’m sorry,” you apologized, the apology being more of a force of habit. 

“You don’t need to be sorry,” Joel  assured, “we all feel our feelings sometimes,” he pushed away a bit of hair that had fallen into your face. 

“I’m sorry you had to see me like this, I guess,” you continued. It had been a while since you’d shown any negative emotions in front of anyone, let alone a significant other. In fact, the last time you’d been sad in front of a significant other, you’d been laughed at and mocked. You’d been conditioned to see your own vulnerability as weakness, as a character flaw you needed to apologize for.

“Like what? Naked?” he teased, trying to at least make you smile when you’d clearly been feeling so down. “You know I don’t mind that at all. Seriously, though. There’s nothing wrong with being upset, and there’s nothing wrong with being upset in front of the people you care about.”

A tear slipped down your cheek. It had been so long since anyone had made you feel like you weren’t a burden for having a rough day. Joel gently brushed away your tears with his thumb, and kissed your forehead. 

“Thank you,” you muttered, feeling all sorts of feelings, particularly one feeling you couldn’t quite describe that had been lying dormant for years of your life. 

You eventually got out of the tub once the water had become too cold and you had become

somewhat of a human prune, and you found yourself curled up in bed with Joel, wearing a flannel that he’d left behind the last time he was over. 

“Feeling any better?” he asked once again, gently rubbing your back as a trashy reality TV show played quietly in the background. 

“Yeah,” you mumbled as you looked up at the ceiling, “it’s been a rough few months.” 

“Months?” Joel asked, scooting closer to you. “What’s been happening?”

“Too much to get into,” you sighed. “I guess it just all came out now.”

Joel turned down the volume of the TV, and turned his body so that he could face you properly. “If you want to talk, we have the time. I may or may not have drank a coffee on my way over here, so I’ll be completely alert for the next few hours.”

He gently grabbed your hand and squeezed it, a little reminder that he was here for you. 

“Today’s just been… bad. When Nathan picked Chloe up, she was upset so he called her a spoiled brat and said that it was my fault that she was one. Obviously I do a lot for her, and I know that I’m a good mom, but sometimes the way he talks about her scares me a little. I don’t want her to have self-esteem issues because her dad likes to name-call. I mean, she’s probably gonna have enough issues from our shitty relationship and messy divorce. That really upset me, but that definitely wasn’t the last straw or anything.”

Joel silently sat and listened, holding your hand and listening attentively.

“I lost the promotion, Joel. You know, the one I’ve been working absurd hours for? But it’s not just that, it’s just… there are months of emotions I haven’t had a chance to process. I guess it just all came out now after that.”

“I’m so sorry,” he said softly. “Nathan is an asshole. He shouldn’t be saying that kind of thing about his child just to make you feel bad. And your boss is stupid for not giving you that position when you’ve clearly earned it. Everything you’ve felt today is valid, but so is everything else that you’ve been holding in for the past… however long. It’s okay to feel your feelings in the moment instead of waiting for them to boil over.”

“I guess, it’s just… I don’t know. I’ve had to be strong for so long. I don’t know if I know how to not wait for my emotions to boil over.”

“Well, you don’t have to be so strong anymore. You’re not alone,” he assured you. “If you ever need me to watch Chloe because you need to go out to the middle of nowhere and scream, or just need someone to talk your feelings out with, I am more than happy to do so. Okay?”

“Okay,” you agreed, setting your head on Joel’s chest. 

You were getting that weird, dormant feeling in you once again. There was an odd warmth in your chest and butterflies in your stomach, that felt strange and familiar, but most of all, exciting. You had no idea what was going on, or what that feeling was, but you did know that you didn’t want it to stop anytime soon.

And honestly, it didn’t seem like it would. 

Two

Walking into Joel’s home to the sound of soft guitar chords made you feel a bit like you had woken up in a dream, or died and gone to heaven. It wasn’t often that you’d heard him play guitar. Sing? Sure! He loved to sing along to a song he liked on the radio, or do karaoke with you and the kids. But playing guitar was something that he seemed to like to keep to himself.

Joel had picked Chloe up from school, as you had an important work event that you’d anticipated going quite late, and as you’d predicted, it was nearly midnight by the time you got to Joel’s place. It was rare for you to see those two alone, without yours or Sarah’s presence, but you’d assumed the latter had gone to bed due to how late it was and the fact that they had school in the morning.

So hearing Joel play for your daughter felt… weird. But a good weird. Like he trusted her enough to be doing something that he often kept under wraps, even for you.

“I love this song!” you heard your daughter exclaim from the living room. You rounded a corner, not quite ready to appear yet, but curious enough to eavesdrop on the scene.

Joel chuckled at her reaction, “should we sing it together?”

“Maybe, I’m not very good, though.”

“I doubt that,” Joel said, continuing to play the introduction to the song on a loop. 

“I… fine, I’ll sing.”

The two of them began to sing along to the song, and you could’ve sworn that your heart did an actual flip as you listened. There was something very sweet about the whole scene, of Joel playing a song your daughter loved, of him assuring her that she was good enough, and singing something together. 

You should’ve felt bad for listening in on the scene, for invading on a moment that was clearly meant to be private, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to feel that way when your heart was so filled with… something that you couldn’t quite place.

The song came to a soft conclusion, and you figured there was no better time to finally step out from behind the wall than then. 

“You guys sounded so good!” you stated as you entered the room.

“Oh hi,” Joel greeted a little awkwardly, looking down at his guitar as if he’d been caught red handed. 

“Mom!” Chloe exclaimed, coming over to you and hugging you. “I missed you.”

“We were just killing time while we waited for you to get home. How was work?”

“Eh,” you shrugged, sitting down across from Joel as Chloe curled up next to you. “It was work.”

“Mom, did you know that Joel sings and plays guitar? He’s really good!”

“Really? I didn’t know that,” you acted surprised for your child, but looked mischievously at your partner. It wasn’t often that you had the chance to get Joel to play you something, and you refused to let the opportunity slip away from you. “Can you play me something?”

“He can!” Chloe accepted the offer before Joel could begin to protest. God, was this child your mini-you. “Go ahead, Joel.”

He looked to you as if he needed some sort of excuse to not do it, or encouragement to play (more likely than not, he was looking for an out), but you simply shrugged, far too enthused at the idea of him playing guitar for you. 

Just as the man sighed and began to put his fingers to the string, Sarah came down the stairs and plopped herself right next to you. 

“You guys are loud,” she stated, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. 

“Sorry for waking you up,” you apologized. “You were just about to miss your dad’s concert!”

“Oh good,” Sarah giggled, getting all comfortable next to you as she pulled a blanket over her lap. 

“I feel like this is a premeditated attack,” Joel held onto his guitar. 

“It’s definitely not. We just want you to share your gift with the world!”

“Alright, fine. Only because I like you guys so much.”

The three of you cheered from the couch as Joel began to play again, the soft acoustic notes of a love song you’d heard a few times before. As Joel played and sang, he looked straight at you, and you couldn’t help but feel like the lyrics were coming straight from his heart to you. 

That warm, fuzzy feeling in your chest that you’d become more and more familiar with over the course of your relationship began to reappear as you sat there, the moment a snapshot of the perfect domestic bliss that had become your home life. As you sat with your two favorite children in the world, and your favorite man, you realized that you’d never felt more content in your life. 

Three

When you agreed to come to a bar with Joel, you hadn’t expected it to be a quaint little hole-in-the-wall with great live music. 

The atmosphere was lively, the drinks were dangerously sweet, and best of all, it was cute watching Joel in his element. Part of you wondered if he ever saw himself up on the stage, playing for a little audience. Although, he was so bashful and shy playing in front of you and the girls that you wondered if he would like it at all. 

You finished off your first drink rather quickly, but you were feeling up for another, and prepared to head back to the bar. “Do you want another drink?” you asked Joel over the loud music. 

“I’m alright. Thank you, though,” he kissed your cheek, then looked back up at the stage, directing all of his focus there once more. 

You made your way back to the bar, where you ordered another fruity drink for yourself and patiently waited for it to be made, humming along to the cover being sung on stage. 

Being able to find out more about what Joel liked to spend his time doing was (unsurprisingly) quite nice. While he was vulnerable with his emotions, he was often a little more closed off when it came to sharing his hobbies and interests. You wondered how many of these live shows and open mics he was familiar with, how many local artists he was friends with. Would he ever feel comfortable enough around you to share those things with you? Well, you certainly hoped so. 

You looked around with a small smile on your face at the thought of learning more about your partner’s interests. Had he ever been the one up on stage? Maybe before Sarah was born and he was launched straight into the time consuming world of fatherhood. Although, he surely would’ve shared that with you by now.

You were drawn out of thought when eyes landed on a head of hair that looked a little too familiar for your liking.  

No.

There was no way.

This bar was definitely not his scene. In fact, if you’d suggested this bar, he would’ve laughed in your face and called you a hipster, before dragging you out to some stuffy restaurant where he’d complain about the portion size of both his meal and the bill. 

Your mind was just playing a mean trick on you. You’d had a somewhat stressful week, and sometimes drinking made you the slightest bit paranoid. Besides, it was just someone’s hair. Literally anyone could have that hair color, or hair cut, and although the world was small, it wasn’t that small. 

Just as you began to fall headfirst into your nerves, the bartender handed you your drink, and you walked back to Joel, head still in the clouds. 

You couldn’t shake that off feeling, even as Joel danced around with you and stole a sip of your drink, both actions bringing a smile to your face, but not quite quelling the growing discomfort in your stomach. 

You just needed to go clear your mind and freshen up. At least, that’s what you told yourself before telling Joel to keep your drink safe and power walking to the bathroom.

You stood at the sink, splashing your face with water as cold as the faucets would go. Nathan was not here. You needed to just relax, and enjoy the fun date that Joel had planned. You couldn’t keep letting this man ruin your experiences, even when he wasn’t present.

“You okay, hun?” a voice asked you while your head was bowed over the sink. When you looked up, your eyes nearly popped out of your head, as if you were some ridiculous cartoon character. 

Well. Your brain must’ve really been fucking with you today. Or the Universe just really hated you. 

Claire, Nathan’s new girlfriend, was asking you if you were alright in the bathroom of a bar that your new boyfriend had suggested. 

You were completely unsure of whether she knew who you were or not, although she seemed tipsy enough not to care. 

“Oh, I’m fine,” you smiled awkwardly at her. “But, uh, my mascara’s a little smudged. Any chance you have a makeup wipe?”

“Yeah!” she said, digging into her purse to check for the item. 

You’d never met Claire before, but as far as first impressions went, this one wasn’t too bad. She offered you the wipe, then stood next to you as you dabbed at your under eye. 

“You meet anyone fun tonight?” she asked, beginning to touch up her own makeup. 

“No, I’m actually here with my partner. He really likes the music,” you said casually, dabbing at the same spot so you could at least attempt to maintain your composure in an otherwise dramatically ironic and tense situation. 

“Oh no. Was he the one making you cry?”

“Cry? No! I was sweating. We were dancing,” suddenly, a slightly perverse question crossed your mind. “Does your partner make you cry a lot?”

“How do you even know I have one?” she giggled, sounding less accusatory and more confused. 

“I don’t I just-“

“No, not really,” she shrugged as she reapplied her lip liner. “He mostly just buys me shit and spoils me. What would I have to cry about? He’s a really good guy.”

Oh, you remembered that phase. Well, phases. The time after he’d slapped you during an argument immediately came to mind. Nathan could probably teach a seminar on love bombing, then making you feel guilty for having any negative feelings because of all the money he’d spent on you. 

“That’s good,” you nodded, tossing the used wipe in the trash and making your way to the door. “Thanks for checking in on me and helping me. Have a good night.”

“Hey, do I know you from somewhere?” she asked as your hand hit the door.

“No,” you replied promptly, maybe slamming the door behind you a little too hard. 

This was a lot to process, and a lot to take in. Despite having a fun time with Joel, you really just wanted to go home. Finding your way back out to him, you silently accepted back your drink and stood besides him stiffly. 

“You okay?” he asked, gently grabbing your arm. 

“Fine, just… just.. I have an upset stomach,” you explained. You were never a good liar, the concern in Joel’s eyes told you that you hadn’t suddenly become one. 

“I’m sorry, sweetie,” he said, rubbing your forearm gently. “Let’s go home, okay?”

You certainly didn’t protest as he began to lead you out of the bar, and you let out a sigh of relief at being able to leave before running into anyone else you knew.

Although, life was never that simple, was it?

As you approached the door, a familiar voice called out your name, sending a chill up your spine. Joel’s head whipped around from where it was coming from, and scowled when he saw who the voice belonged to. Ignoring him, the two of you continued your departure, a newfound urgency in both of your steps.

Once you were outside, you felt yourself puff out a sigh of relief. You’d managed to get out of the bar with only a brief conversation with Claire, and no direct interaction with Nathan. Now, if you could only get home, curl up with Joel on the couch, and tell him the absurd story of how you’d bumped into your ex’s new girlfriend in the bathroom. 

But the universe clearly wasn’t letting you off the hook just yet.

“Hey!” Nathan called as he stepped out of the bar, Claire trailing just a few paces behind him. “You’re such a fuckin’ bitch. Can’t even say hi to the father of your child.”

You were almost alarmed by the speed in which Joel marched over to your ex and reprimanded him. Not even wasting a moment, Joel shoved him back—a warning of sorts, with your knowledge that he was certainly holding himself back. 

“Leave her the fuck alone,” he barked. It was like no tone you’d ever heard him use before, not when he was upset with anyone, and not even when he was yelling at a referee for a bad call.  

“And who the fuck are you?” your ex shot back. 

“Does it really matter?” Joel pressed, not backing down despite the slightly shorter man getting in his face. “You’re not gonna go around trying to degrade women.”

“Oh yeah? You gonna stop me, Mr. Nice guy?” Nathan pushed Joel, but your partner barely budged. 

“You fuckin’ cuck,” Nathan muttered. “Why do you even care about this whore?”

Nathan took a second to think about it, glancing between the two of you before a light seemed to go off in his little brain. 

“Oh, I know. You’re that guy from the soccer games. You two together now?" His condescension was almost jarring to hear, and part of you worried about what your clearly inebriated ex might say or do next. “I see you’re still the community cumrag,” he directed at you. 

You hardly had a moment to process what was just said before Joel was swinging, clearly seeing red as he threw a hefty right hook at your ex, leaving a nasty crunching sound as he fell to the ground. 

“Don’t talk about her, or any other fucking woman like that ever again,” he squatted down to his level, and grabbed both of his cheeks. “Leave her the fuck alone, you understand me? Or next time you’re gonna wish it was just your nose.”

Nathan cradled his bloody nose and whimpered and Joel walked back to you, the fury on his face melting into something apologetic as you looked at him with wide eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he began, cautiously approaching you as if he was something to be afraid of. “I shouldn’t have done that. I overstepped-“

“Joel. Don’t apologize. Do you know how much that asshole deserved it? You did everyone a favor tonight, but especially me.” 

You had never had someone defend you so literally before. Sure, your friends had argued with Nathan a few times on your behalf, but punching Nathan in the face had truly raised your expectations for anyone who claimed to be doing anything to help you. You don’t think you’d have felt this alive or cherished in years. 

“Now let’s get you home and ice those knuckles.”

Four

You were usually a big fan of rainy days. The sound of rain pattering against the window or on the roof of your car, and the smell of petrichor on the pavement were sensations you wished you could experience all the time. But today, you weren’t quite so pleased to see the rain. 

You’d taken the day off to spend it with Joel, who had specifically asked for you to take some time off to be with him. You couldn’t blame him, as you’d been slightly neglecting him after things picked up once again at work. You’d had a whole outdoorsy day planned, with a morning hike, a visit to a conservatory, and a picnic at one of your favorite local parks. Unfortunately, none of those activities could be done comfortably in the pouring rain. 

Instead, you opted to come back to your place after you dropped your kids off at school, and have a domestic little day-in.

After putting some homemade cinnamon rolls into the oven, the two of you found yourselves on your couch, comfortably sitting together and reading your own books while the smell of warm cinnamon filled your house. 

Occasionally, you glanced out your window, the scene of rain granting you a sense of serenity. At one point, you noticed Joel’s gaze out the window as well, and you couldn’t help but comment on it. 

“Don’t you just love the rain?” you asked, setting your book down on your coffee table. It was more of an excuse to break the silence than an actual comment, but you said it regardless.

“It’s nice,” he agreed, his tone oddly somber for a comment on the rain. 

“You okay, big guy?” you asked before moving closer to Joel. 

“I’m alright,” he smiled, but it didn’t quite meet his eyes. There wasn’t any real concrete evidence that something was off, but something inside you told you that something definitely was off. 

“You sure?” you asked, squeezing his bicep. 

“Yeah, it’s just,” he paused, looking down at his book as if he was about to go right back to reading instead of telling you the issue. After a moment of hesitation, he spoke once more, “it’s the anniversary of Diane leaving.”

Oh. So that’s why he’d asked to be with you today.

You’d never heard Joel say her name before. Sure, you’d seen her name written under a polaroid or two, but you’d never heard Joel reference her ever. Now that you thought about it, you didn’t really know what their deal was. Amicable exes? Divorcees? Was Joel a widower? You felt awful that you’d gone this far into a relationship and still didn’t know anything about his last significant one. 

“I’m sorry,” you said quietly, not completely sure how to react. You mainly wanted to get a gauge on Joel’s reaction–just how upset was he? Did he want to talk about it? Or just get the importance of the day out in the open?

“It’s just… Today feels like that day in a lot of ways.”

You nodded slowly, still not exactly sure of how to approach the situation. You thought back to all of the times he’d been there to support you when you were having a rough day, and ended up asking aloud, “is there anything I can do to make you feel better?” 

“Maybe just listening, if that’s okay. It helps to talk about it,” he paused. “The rolls smell done. I’ll go get them,” with that, he was off to the kitchen, barely giving you time to react, or even protest his departure.

He clearly wanted to talk, but just wasn’t completely ready to do so at that moment. You could listen. You could be the best damn listener on the planet if that was what Joel needed from you. No matter what he revealed to you today, you were determined to make Joel feel comfortable, and know that whatever he was going through, he wasn’t alone—just as he’d shown you in the past.

By the time he came back to the living room, Joel offered you a plate with an iced cinnamon roll and acted like everything was normal. He sat back down next to you, stole a bite from your plate, then buried his nose right back into his novel.

You respected his right to process his emotions in any way he saw fit. All you could do was be a good partner, and offer whatever he needed from you to feel better, like he’d done for you so many times before. 

While you were fine with spending your day cuddled up on the sofa and reading, you were also aware that there were a good amount of house chores that were calling your name. Upon mentioning these tasks, Joel insisted on helping out, which was how you two landed in the laundry room, laughing at something stupid that had happened to you this week. 

While you loaded light clothes into your washer, Joel suddenly caught you off guard with a question that was a far cry from the banter you’d just been having only moments before. 

“Is it… are you okay with me talking about it?”

By it you could only assume he meant the giant elephant of a woman in the room. 

“Of course,” you turned to him, offering sympathetic eyes. 

“She left just a few months after Sarah was born,” Joel busied himself by pouring out laundry detergent and fabric softeners. “I just woke up one morning to an empty bed and a note in the kitchen saying she was leaving, she wasn’t coming back, and not to look for her.”

You were taken aback by the cruelty of such an abrupt ending, especially with such a young infant. You couldn’t imagine being put in those circumstances so unexpectedly. 

Joel casually poured the respective liquids into their proper places in the machine, then turned it on. “It was a day just like this. The nursery had a nice, big window that we put a rocking chair in front of. Sarah liked looking at the stars when she was younger, it always helped to calm her down. I remember holding her in that chair and bawling my eyes out while she cried too, and with all the rain against the window… it felt like the Earth was crying right along with us.”

You weren’t sure what to say or how to react, but it seemed like Joel was prepared to move right on, quickly changing the subject as he led you out of the laundry room. 

Baking cinnamon rolls had left a lot of dishes in the sink, but luckily for you, you had an extra set of hands to help you out. Joel was on rinsing duty, and you were on loading.

You quickly found your rhythm, as you often did with partnered tasks. You worked quietly while loading the dishes, letting the music from your speaker fill up the silence, but it was obvious Joel was lost in thought.

Eventually, he quietly began to speak again, “I kept trying to make sense of her leaving. I knew that postpartum depression hit her really hard, and that she was barely sleeping at night because of how often Sarah was crying. Sarah was a really sensitive, fussy baby. She’d told me how she’d felt a few times, and I always kinda thought things would just pass. Every new parent hits that roadbump where they just can’t see themselves doing this thing forever, right? Then, she just left. I thought maybe she just needed a few days away, and that she’d be back. But days went by, then weeks, then it had been a month, and it was still just Sarah and I.”

“Did she ever come back around?” you asked, setting down the last dish into the sink, then closing the machine.

“Never heard from her again.”

You closed the distance between you and the man, wrapping him in as tight of a hug that you could manage. 

“I’m so sorry,” you muttered into his shirt as he melted into your embrace. “I can’t even imagine how painful and stressful that was.”

As a mother, you couldn’t imagine abandoning your child; the tiny human being you spent nine months carrying, and would spend a lifetime loving. But as a human, you understood the stress of being the parent of a newborn. Waking up every few hours because your baby is crying and you’ve tried everything to get her to stop but she just… won’t. Paired with postpartum depression, which you were no stranger to, you could understand the circumstances that led Diane to feeling like she had no other option but to leave. But that didn’t, in any way, make it the right thing to do. 

As you held Joel, a sound you hadn’t ever heard from him escaped his lips, wracking his body. A guttural cry that had clearly been trapped deep inside of him for the longest time had suddenly escaped as he recalled an event that had clearly changed his life. 

You stood in the kitchen holding him for what felt like forever, when he finally pulled away, wiping his face a little bit. 

“Thank you,” was all that he managed to get out.

You laid next to him in bed after a rather emotionally loaded session of lovemaking, trying to catch your breath as the two of you recovered from the underlying emotional and physical aftermath of your fornication. As Joel spooned you, a question lingered on your mind. 

“Do you still love her?” you asked, keeping your eyes forward on the wall. You wanted to say you were sure he had moved on, but these types of situations were rather nuanced. There were just some bonds that regardless of time or circumstances, people continued to hold on to. 

“No,” he answered clearly. “I don’t hate her, either. I guess I just understand her. But that doesn’t make what she put me or Sarah through any better.” 

You slipped your hand down to where his were currently laying on your stomach, and you set one on top of his. 

“I’m not jealous, I’m just curious. Do you ever miss her?” 

“I used to,” he sighed, the close breath blowing some hairs on your neck. “I don’t anymore.”

Eventually, your laundry was dry, meaning you two needed to get out of bed and get to folding. 

“She has a new family, now,” he said out of the blue, as he folded up a pair of your pajama pants. “Husband, kids, dog, the full nine yards. Tommy found her Facebook a few years ago, but I still haven’t looked. I don’t really know why.”

You didn’t really know why either, but you knew exactly the feeling he was experiencing. Seeing your ex who you’d invested so much into and had a child with move on with someone was a particularly gut wrenching feeling. You could only imagine how much worse it was in Joel’s scenario, where Diane had abandoned him and their child, yet had a child and built another family elsewhere. 

“Does Sarah know?” you asked, putting a blouse onto a hanger. 

“Bits and pieces. She kinda just accepted that her mom’s not in the picture, but doesn’t know why she left or anything about her mom’s new family,” Joel finished up with his basket, then began to help you with yours. “Maybe when she’s older. Old enough to understand that it isn’t her fault and that these things just… happen sometimes.”

“I guess,” you frowned as you grabbed your last article of clothing and hung it up. “It shouldn’t have happened, though. Neither of you deserved to be abandoned.”

“It was gonna happen one way or another,” Joel shrugged, putting your baskets away. “Our relationship had been on the rocks even before Diane became pregnant. If it wasn’t then, it would be later. I’m just glad it happened early enough that Sarah doesn’t remember. You in the mood for a coffee?”

His words gave you a bit of whiplash, but you accepted the offer of a warm drink regardless. 

You sat at your table, stirring your drink as Joel sat down across from you. 

“Good, right?” he asked. “I think I’ve officially nailed the way you like your coffee.”

“It’s pretty good,” you admitted, taking a sip from a mug that Chloe had decorated in her school’s art class. 

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Good. It is one,” you hummed. 

It was clear that his mood was slightly improving the more that he talked about his experience. You wondered just how much of this information he’d shared with anyone else before you, as he told the story as if he were confessing something for the first time ever. 

“I’ve never told anyone this much about it,” he confessed. “I’m glad that of all the people I could’ve told, it ended up being you.”

“Joel, I,” the words popped into your head, but died on your tongue. “I care about you so much. I know this can’t be easy to talk about, so thank you for sharing this with me,” you squeezed his hands across the table. 

“Thank you for being so supportive. I also care about you a lot. So much that it scares me. Especially knowing that you could lose everything in a literal night,” he admitted. 

“Oh Joel,” you said softly. “I’m also scared. I’m always so scared that I’ll lose you and Sarah and this little blended family we’ve made. But if that’s the price I pay for… caring about you so much, I’m okay with being afraid.”

Joel looked at you like he had something to say, but instead sat there quietly for a moment, processing your words. “Do you want to watch an episode of The Bachelorette?” 

“Is that even a question? C’mon,” you stood up.

The two of you cuddled up on the couch once again, this time with a much lighter feeling in the room, partially due to what Joel had confessed to you, and partially due to the absolutely ridiculous content playing on your television.

“I’m sad that I had to go through what I had to go through, but I’m glad that it led me to you,” Joel said out of the blue, resting his forehead against yours.

You were glad that he found you too.

Five

It wasn’t every day that the forces of the universe seemed to be on your side, but for some reason, today was one of those days. 

When you’d been called into your boss’ office that morning, a pit formed in your stomach. You’d figured that the day you were going to be laid off was coming, especially following the whole promotion fiasco. As you walked into her office, you fully intended to be walking out without a job. 

Except, that wasn’t what happened. You had been promoted, and promoted into a position even higher than the one you’d previously been gunning after. 

Once you found out, you had to fight the urge to skip out of your boss’s office, singing and dancing with joy. Instead, you fought that urge by closing the door to your office, and calling Joel. 

“Hey honey, what’s up?” he answered casually. 

“Joel, they promoted me! And it’s an even better position than what I was trying to get before!” you squealed. 

Joel cheered from over the phone, making you somehow smile even harder. “Congratulations! I’m so proud of you. I can’t think of anyone who deserves this more than you.”

“Oh my god, stop it,” you giggled, putting your hands up to your warm cheeks. 

“No, I’m serious,” Joel countered. “I know a lot of hard workers, and none of them work as hard as you. You’ve sacrificed so much to get here and it’s finally paid off.”

“Thank you, Joel,” you had more to say, but you decided to keep it to yourself. Mainly, how did you get so lucky to end up with a man like him? 

“Are you busy tonight?” he asked. 

“I’m just dropping Chloe off at my mom’s, then I should be free for the evening. Why?”

“Why don’t you come over to my place so we can celebrate? You picked the right time to get a promotion. Sarah’s going to her uncle’s for the weekend.”

“Sounds good to me,” you hummed. “I’ll text you when I’m heading over.”

“Alright. Again, congratulations! So proud.”

You hung up and attempted to get back to work, but you were far too excited to focus for too long. You somehow made it to the end of the work day and to Joel’s house without spontaneously combusting from joy.

When you walked in, you were immediately met with the smells of one of your favorite candles, mixed with the mouthwatering scent of fragrant coming from the kitchen. 

“Joel, I’m home!” you announced, making your way to the kitchen only to find it very dressed up. The lights were dimmed, a crisp white table cloth rested on the table, and a gorgeous arrangement of flowers sat in a vase in the middle of the table, right next to a rather nice looking bottle of champagne. 

Joel was finishing up plating something spectacular as you came in. “Please, have a seat,” he directed. You didn’t need to be told twice. 

With the arrangement of the table, you almost felt like you were sitting at a fancy little restaurant, but better, knowing all the effort Joel had put into making the table look this way.  He brought over two plates, set one over at his seat and one in front of you, before leaning down and kissing you gently. 

“Congratulations. I am so, so, so proud of you,” he said after finally pulling away, reaching for the bottle of champagne on the table.

“If anyone in the world deserves good things,” he turned away from you so that he could safely pop the bottle. “It’s you. I’m glad you’re finally getting the recognition that you deserve.”

With the bottle opened, he poured you out a glass, then poured himself some. You lifted up your glass and Joel mirrored you.

“Cheers,” you said with a grin, tapping your glasses together, then taking a sip. Once you finished drinking, Joel leaned in for one more kiss before he situated himself back into his chair. 

“I think you deserve a promotion from best boyfriend in the world to best boyfriend in the universe,” you softly laughed, looking down at your plate. 

“Do I? I think anyone would celebrate the person they…” he paused for just a split second, and you probably wouldn’t have noticed it if you weren’t paying such close attention. “The person they’re sharing their life with if they made a big accomplishment like this.”

“Honey, you’d be very surprised. I can think of at least one person who would view this promotion as a bad thing.”

“Well, don’t think about them right now. This is an amazing thing, and we’re celebrating you today. Not an insecure man with a Napoleon complex and a small penis.”

You laughed out loud, nearly choking on a bubbly sip of champagne. 

“You’re right,” you picked up your fork and knife, reading to dig into the amazing looking meal in front of you. “Thank you for this, Joel. You always make me feel so appreciated and cherished. You’re truly one of a kind.”

He shook his head bashfully at the compliment, eating right along with you. It was almost cute how he never seemed to accept compliments, but certainly deserved them more than basically any other person that you knew. 

“You always show me how much you care about me. It’s only fair that I do the same.”

“You’re so romantic,” you sighed. “How can I guarantee that I can keep you around forever?”

“Just keep being you, I guess. That’s all I’ve really ever wanted.”

How did you get so lucky? How did you manage to hit the jackpot on men with Joel, almost let it slip through your fingers not once, but twice, and still managed to end up with one of your favorite people in the world? 

However it ended up happening, you certainly weren’t mad at it, and as you sat together, you hoped for things never to change. 

Plus One

Given that you practically lived at each other’s homes now, you often spent your mornings together getting ready to take on the day. It was cute how you both had your own little routines and were able to coexist in a tiny little space. 

Today, you stood in Joel’s bathroom, washing your face as the mirror across from you began to become progressively more foggy from the heat of Joel’s shower. 

“My hair is gonna be so frizzy,” you muttered to yourself as you rubbed moisturizer into your skin. 

“Hey, you’re the one who wanted to come in here with me,” Joel shot back from the shower, turning the water off. 

“Whatever,” you grumbled, getting back to work on your face as Joel dried himself off and wrapped a towel around his waist. 

“You’re so cute when you’re grumpy in the morning,” he commented as he approached you, standing next to you at the sink. 

“I am not grumpy,” you argued, then paused once Joel gave you a very disbelieving expression. “Fine. I can get a little irritable in the morning. Especially when someone’s boiling hot showers make my hair get all frizzy.”

“I wonder who that someone is?” Joel looked around the room in faux confusion. 

“Ugh, shut up. You are such a dad,” you fought back laughter, but you couldn’t really help the smile that appeared on your lips. 

“Shutting up,” Joel acknowledged, grabbing his razor and some shaving cream to touch up some of his facial hair. You began to brush your teeth, focusing on yourself in the mirror to make sure that you were making your dentist proud. 

Your eyes eventually migrated and were meeting Joel’s in the mirror. You flashed him a big, foamy grin, and he immediately broke into hysterics, setting the razor down so he didn’t cut himself while laughing so hard. 

“Really?” he asked between laughs. “While I’m shaving?”

“Sorry,” you shrugged with a self-satisfied smirk. 

“You are such a dork,” Joel sighed as he calmed himself down, leaning against the counter as he began to work on shaving his face once more. “Ugh, I love you,” the words seemed to come out of his mouth involuntarily, if the horrified look on his face told you anything. 

It seemed like the whole house stopped after Joel said it, the dripping from the showerhead ceasing, the faint buzz of the air conditioner nowhere to be found, and the noises of your children downstairs coming to a halt.

You were shocked at the admission, and Joel seemed to be shocked that he’d said anything. 

Now that he’d mentioned it, you really did love Joel. You loved how he supported you, and how he treated your daughter like she was his own. You loved that he wasn’t afraid to fight for what he believed in, especially when that included socking your ex in the face. You loved his ability to be vulnerable with you, and the way that he seemed to always know what to say at the right time. You loved knowing that no matter how shitty of a day you’d had, Joel would always be there, ready to order your favorite foods and spoon you while decompressing with the worst, most trashy reality TV you could find. 

You’d spent all this time thinking that you’d never experience romantic love again, that romantic love was tumultuous and exhausting, when you’d been in love with Joel the whole time. 

You were one of those people who were meant to love and be loved. Joel had proven that much to you. 

“I love you too,” you confessed, toothpaste still obstructing your mouth.

Maybe love wasn't so bad after all.

[newtonsheffield]

face blindness is totally real with baseball players lol, imagine an au where Anthony plays baseball for Kate and Appa’s favorite team and she starts enjoying watching him playing but when she meets him outside of baseball she doesn’t recognize him and starts going all protective mother hen on him for something he did and doesn’t realize she is giving a dressing to her favorite baseball player and Anthony is enjoying it

Genuinely when they have their hats off in the dugout: I don’t know who that man is! That is not the man I recognise. Sorry to that man.

Okay but imagine Anthony, after having a pretty ordinary game the night before sees a woman standing in a Bridgerton jersey when he went to get his coffee in the morning. He waited for her to notice him when they were in line together and she didn’t and now, as they stand there waiting for their orders he’s actually starting to get a bit offended. It doesn’t hurt that this woman’s absolutely stunning and he thinks it’ll be fun and flirty to go over to her and make a joke about the jersey.

“Were they out of all the others at the team store? Didn’t even have any plain ones left?”

She’s even more beautiful when she looks up from her phone, her eyebrow raised. “Would you believe, I went there with the express purpose of buying this one. Love me a shortstop, I guess.”

Anthony smirked a little, “Did they give you a discount on it? I’d be happy to reimburse you.”

“Are you one of those pathetic people that think one game means they’re done?”

Anthony’s lips parted, the realization dawning on him that she didn’t recognise him. “I… not usually.”

The woman rolled her eyes. “Sure he hasn’t had a hit in two games now but let’s not pretend there haven’t been some awful calls. Some umpires obviously think the plate is 3 feet wide.”

Anthony chuckled, “I agree actually,”

“Bridgerton’s spent his whole career being touted as a hero when he does well and washed when he doesn’t hit and other people get away with much more mediocrity.”

“You seem like you know what you’re talking about.”

“You thought I wouldn’t because I’m a woman?”

“No, I just-“

“Bridgerton!” A man called out as he passed, clapping him on the back. “We’ll get ‘em tonight man! World Series is coming home!”

“Thanks man!” Anthony called back turning towards the woman who was staring at him in horror.

“Oh, my god. You’re him.”

Anthony grinned at her, “In my defense: I only meant to do a flirty, cute little bit. Thanks for telling me I’m great though.”

“You look so different without your cap on.” She gasped, “And I’m usually much… further away from you when I go to games with my Dad.”

“I’m handsome in and out of the cap, thanks.”

“I’m so fucking embarrassed.”

Anthony shrugged, “Don’t be. Are you coming tonight?”

“Nope.” She shrugged awkwardly, “Postseason is tough to get tickets for.”

He had no idea what it was about this woman that made him want to do it but he shrugged, “I’ll leave some tickets for you. What’s your name?”

“You… Don’t have to do that.”

“Least I can do for my biggest fan.”

She scoffed, “I’m not your biggest fan.”

“Oh sure.” Anthony said, “What’s you name?”

“Kate. Kate Sharma.”

“Well, I look forward to seeing you there tonight, Kate Sharma.”

He’s not sure why he feels nervous as he gets ready in the clubhouse that night but it’s the first thing he does when he steps onto the field; Look for her in his seats behind home plate. She’s sat next to a man who could only be her father, both of them in their jerseys and he can’t help but make a show of putting his cap on for her, calling out:

“Do you recognise me now?”

Her face splits into a wide smile, “There he is!”

For some reason it’s her he looks to when his song plays over the speakers in the 8th inning, two runs down with the bases loaded.

She’s staring at him, her thumbnail caught between her teeth as he adjusts his batting gloves and taps the plate with the bat before he takes his stance.

He stares down the pitcher, takes a deep breath as he waits for the ball and swings.

He felt the crack of the ball against the wood of his bat and The ball went soaring up over the outfield and the crowd roared as they realised what was about to happen just as he did.

He flipped the bat, fists in the air as he pointed to Kate, rounding the bases, soaking in the moment. Hero once again.

He felt a little stupid as he snatched the bat up at the end of the game, begging someone for marker as he scribbled on it, hoping she hadn’t left already before he scrambled out of the dug out, over the wall.

“Kate!”

She was just leaving, her father ahead of her and she turned around shock and surprise written on her face.

“Yeah?”

“I um- Thanks for um… thanks for coming tonight.”

She blinked at him, a little embarrassed as everyone stared at them, taking photos. “Thanks for the tickets. That was sweet and you didn’t have to and my Dad’s going to be talking about this forever.”

Anthony waved to her father who was watching curiously over her shoulder. “Well, I’m glad I could put on a good show for you.”

“Congrats. Hero again.”

“I wanted to give you this.” He held the bat out towards her. “I’ve been having a… yeah I haven’t been playing my best but thank you. I just… I’m… thank you.”

“I can’t take that.”

“Yes you can.” He grinned at her. “And who knows… maybe you’ll use it.”

He waved at her father again and pushed his way back through the crowd before he could lose his nerve, her voice calling after him.

“Is this your actual fucking phone number?!”

“Call it and find out!”

[spookwyrdie]

Sweet Spot {part 3}

{part 1}{part 2}{part 3}{part 4}{part 5}{part 6}

Baker Felix x Florist reader

summary: Before the ceremony, you unfortunately have to face your ex. Though with Felix there to back you up when Johnny starts being rude, there's a tension you haven't felt before. How will you survive watching your ex get married? // genre: fluff, angst, eventual smut // word count: 3.6k // warnings: adult dialogue, sexual themes //a/n: if you're not on the taglist and would like to be, please reply to this post or send me an ask!🥰

(⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄

I have only posted this here and on AO3 - user: spookwyrdie

Before doing anything else, you need to go take a very cold shower. For one, you need to scrub off all the plant matter currently staining your hands. Secondly, you need to douse this awful combination of anxiety and lust that’s been building up throughout the week. The idea of Johnny walking down the aisle has been simmering away in the back of your mind and the confusing fresh wave of desire for Felix has not been helping. When you try to untangle the thoughts from one another, it feels like trying to diffuse a bomb, not knowing which wire to cut. 

There’s a part of you that feels bitter about Johnny, you two were together for so long, and he’s climbing that ladder of life faster than you. All the bragging that he’s done has seeped into you. In your more insecure moments, you think yourself jealous of him. It drives you mad, knowing how dead your relationship was by the time you pruned it, but all that time and effort lost on some mediocre shithead from your college years makes you feel like you’ve wasted your prime years. Johnny has an uncanny ability to suss out the parts of yourself that you’re least confident about and boast about his success in those areas. 

When your floral business was just starting out, he made sure you knew how well he was doing with money. When he met Jenny, he paraded her around online and at social functions, telling anyone within earshot how he’s never loved anyone the way he loves her. He liked to go on and on about how he knew the very first time meeting her, he was going to marry her. They were just so compatible - mentally, emotionally, and physically. Every time you are hanging out at some brewery with your old friends and Johnny starts up, it takes all your effort not to scoff into your beer and roll your eyes. It’s not jealousy that you feel though, you just wish he would shut the fuck up about it sometimes. 

When he had approached you to do the flowers for the wedding, he seemed surprised when you accepted.

“I promise, I’d love to do the florals for you and Jenny,” you said.

“Are you sure?” Johnny said, eyes full of pity. “Is the business doing okay? It’s totally fine if you don’t want to take on a project this big.”

“Business is booming, Johnny,” you gritted out. “I’ll even give you a nice discount, since we’re friends and all.”

“Okay, great!” he said. “Be prepared for Jenny though. She’s terrible at making decisions without my help.”

“I’ve worked with a lot of brides before, I know I can handle any changes she needs to make,” you reply coolly.

“Good to know,” he said. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

You remember this exchange like it was yesterday. The way you had little half moons embedded in your palms from clenching your fists so hard comes to the forefront of the memory. There was something about how Johnny knew exactly what to say to get under your skin still made you angry.

Thinking back about this exchange while you soap up your body under the cold water of the shower, a little seed of conspiracy plants itself in your mind. Did Johnny encourage the massive switch up of aesthetics at the last minute? Jenny seemed so eager about the previous plan of  classic, timeless flowers that the switch to bohemian felt really out of left field, especially so close to the wedding date. It was also a little rash and stupid of you to offer him such a huge discount. Minho and Chan were right, you had to make sure all your extra work was paid for properly. 

The Felix problem was an entirely different can of worms. This crush you’ve been nursing for years now had fuel added to the fire, all because of a silly dream you had. Granted, it was an incredibly hot dream, you feel goosebumps raise on your skin, and not just from the frigid temperature of your shower. If anything, the icy water was keeping you grounded, not getting swept away by your desire again. 

Were you ovulating or something? Why was this hitting you so hard, especially now? Nothing had changed between you and Felix, you just seemed to notice more. He’s been extraordinarily kind, really going out of his way to take care of you. It helps, since both of you work within the wedding industry, to have someone to confide in so closely. The last few months, you’ve seen him more often than not, like an extremely reliable dinner buddy. You realize Felix is a huge reason you haven’t felt as lonely in the past year. 

His offer to be your plus one had you reeling. As you step out of the shower, you remember how he urged you to call him your boyfriend while you were here. 

“It feels real when you can attach a label to it like that,” he had said. He was right. You knew, beyond a doubt, that your ex would take what you said more seriously if you had “evidence” that you were doing well. It was petty, immature, and not something you should entertain. . .  but you wanted to feel an ounce of victory against your ex. You were going to that wedding to show up and show off. It didn’t hurt that you also secretly craved to indulge the fantasy of being with Felix like that, even if just for a night.

Toweling off your body, the dream-hazed feeling of his hands on your hips rocket through you again. It’s not that Felix wasn’t touchy, he was one of your more physically affectionate friends. But that was just the way he acted with everyone, always hugging, touching, soothing, you internally scolded yourself for getting swept away by his antics. There was something about Dream Felix’s hands that felt burned into your skin. Rubbing your face, you try and shake the image - you have shit to do, there’s a wedding you need to get ready for.

You pull your dress out of the garment bag, a pastel pink, slinky number, ruched in just the right way to accentuate the curve of your hips. The length is just modest enough to pass for a wedding, but stops right above your knee. You have your favorite pair of strappy, white fuck-me heels to go along with it. You make sure your lips look plumped, your eyes look sharp and bedroom-y, and your hair looks fashionably mussed and loosely pinned back. The goal is to look like you didn’t put in too much effort while still standing out from the crowd. 

You’re futzing with an earring clasp when you hear a knock at the door. Felix stands in the doorway when you answer, whatever greeting he was about to say dying on his lips when he sees you. His jaw slackens as he stares, drinking you in. You’re in a similar position, enthralled by his appearance. His hair is half swept back, tendrils of his cool toned blonde trailing resting against his shoulders. His suit jacket is a pale blue offset by his light beige dress pants. His attention to detail is insane with his white shirt with small detailed flowers embroidered into it and a silver blue embroidered tie to match. The undertones of the suit complement his honey tanned skin so well. His freckles nearly glitter on his face. He looks good, as if he just walked off the runway. You’re not sure how much time passes as the two of you gawk at the other, before you shake yourself out of it.

“Lix! Come on in!” you nearly shout, unable to control the volume of your voice.

“Wow, Y/n…” he murmurs as he steps inside the hotel room. “You look…”

“It’s a bit much, I know,” you interrupt him. You don’t think you can handle whatever he was about to say, good or bad. “But I wanted to show off a little at the wedding.”

“That won’t be an issue at all, I promise,” he says as his gaze traces your form again. His eyes darken for a moment, lost in some sort of intense thought, before he snaps out of it. Looking up at you with a bright smile on his face, he does a little spin to show off his outfit. “Told you I clean up real good, didn’t I?”

“Understatement of the century,” you mutter, your skin flushing. You can’t help but trail your eyes up from his shoes to his face. “Oh! I have something for you!”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah!” you walk over to the small fridge in your shared room. Inside is a plastic takeout container, slight condensation covering the inside. “Well, technically I have something for both of us.”

You pop open the container to reveal a corsage and a boutonniere, a combination of lilac, lavender and mint. Picking up the boutonniere, you beckon Felix over. “This goes on your suit and I have one that matches.”

“Ooh, matchy matchy!” he lilts.

You playfully smack his shoulder and laugh. “Yes, matchy matchy.” 

He stands close to you, the toes of your shoes nearly touching, as you pin the flowers on to his lapel. You smooth your hand over the fabric of his jacket before looking up at him. He’s got that same adoring look in his eyes as he looks down at you. You feel yourself flush again, that cold shower’s calming effect has fully worn off now that you’re back in the warm glowing spotlight Felix seems to put on you. Bashfully, you look away and your eyes catch the clock on the bedside table.

“Oh! I need to get down to the dressing rooms with the wedding party’s flowers!”

You’re already power walking out of your room when you hear Felix trail behind you, “I’ll come help.”

You sneak into the bridal dressing room with a few boxes while the girls are still in pre-wedding prep. There’s a lot of movement all orbiting Jenny. When she sees you, she smiles and beckons you over. Felix hangs back, hovering by the entrance, not wanting to disturb the tittering over the bouquets. 

The bridesmaids love the flowers, each getting their own mini version of Jenny’s big bouquet, slightly unique in arrangement and color. You also reveal the corsages that they’ll be able to wear at the reception, also matching the bohemian theme. The din of chatter rises again in the room. Jenny sees Felix at the door and waves, smiling at him like they were old friends. She catches your eye and winks.

The bridal drop off was simple. The groomsmen drop off fills you with dread. While walking the boxes of boutonnieres over to the men’s dressing room, you feel your stomach do a few flips. Felix gives you a reassuring smile and waits in the doorway yet again. As you enter, you hear the cheerful, familiar voices of Peter and Bobby calling you over.

“Y/n! We wondered where you were,” Bobby says.

“Yeah, holy shit,” Peter says. “It’s been ages. I’ve never seen you grace our presence in anything but sneakers!”

“Hey guys,” you grin at the boys. These two chucklefucks have been your friends since the first week of college when you found yourself in an ice breaker circle during orientation. They were the two who introduced you to Johnny incidentally during a chaotic game of Edward 40-hands. Johnny had helped you drag them back to their dorm when they were three sheets to the wind. “Lovely to see you two looking like you’ve showered for once.”

“Hey now, don’t go complimenting us too hard,” Peter smiles with a big wide gummy smile. “Whatcha got there?”

At that moment, Johnny appears, giving you a flat mouthed smile. He looks slicked back and shiny, his cheeks a little too pink to seem suave. He looks a little wary seeing you all dressed up. With your heels on, you are at eye level with him and you know that he isn’t a fan of that.

“I came to pin on your flowers so you all match for the ceremony.”

You start pinning on the little bundles of flowers one by one. Johnny is last in the rotation, his boutonniere a little more complex than the groomsmen. You both stand in awkward silence for a moment, safety pin stuck between your teeth, as you maneuver the wrapping of his flowers.

“So…who’s the blonde?”

“Hmm?”

“Who’s the blonde dude hovering at the door?”

You turn your head, and make direct eye contact with Felix. He’s got a cool smile plastered on his face that doesn’t quite meet his eyes. The way the afternoon sun is hitting him makes him radiate though. Somehow he seems to bring his own sparkle with him everywhere he goes, like he can’t help but capture the attention of everyone surrounding him. You watch as he presses his tongue against the side of cheek as he looks at the two of you across the room.

“That’s Felix. He’s my…boyfriend,” the word feels strange in your mouth.

You see the muscle in Johnny’s jaw twitch as he mulls that over. “I thought you were bringing your sister.”

“Nope, you just assumed I was bringing her,” you say, your voice clipped. “Remember? You thought I was having trouble in the ‘dating department’?”

“How long have you been seeing each other?”

“A few months now.”

“Hmm,” he grunts out, eyes still on Felix. “Isn’t he kind of… too pretty for you?”

“Excuse me?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. 

“I mean, isn’t he a little…” Johnny raises his hand to make a limp wrist gesture.

“I don’t like what you’re implying, Johnny.”

“Oh, don’t get all offended on me. You know what I mean! He looks like a fairy,” Johnny whispers, too loudly. Everyone in the room goes quiet.

“Why are you being so fucking rude?” you feel the heat of anger roll through you, color rising in your cheeks.

“I’m not, I’m just surprised you’re into guys like that,” he sniffs, looking away. “Are you sure he’s into you?”

“Fuck you,” your voice bites out, adrenaline pumping through you.

Bobby comes up and claps Johnny a little too hard on the shoulder, forcing out a laugh. “He doesn’t know what he’s saying! He’s probably just hungover from the stag last night. You know how alcohol turns him into a little bitch.” 

“Yeah,” Johnny mumbles. “Sorry.”

“Whatever,” you say, turning on your heel. “See you out there.”

You stomp over to the door where Felix is standing. As you approach, he holds out his hand for you to take. Unshed tears burn in your eyes, but you’re too mad to cry. Felix walks one step ahead of you, pulling you gently to a secluded corner near the lobby. 

“Y/n, you okay?” he leans down, concern painting his features. You’re breathing hard, trying to calm yourself down but it feels like there’s a swarm of bees under your ribs.

“Breathe.” Felix says as he pulls you into his arms. He hugs you tight and takes some deep breaths in a slow, soothing pattern. You don’t realize you’re shaking with anger until you’re pressed up against his chest, but you begin to relax in his embrace. He pulls back a bit when he feels your forehead slump onto his shoulder, giving you a reassuring pat on the back. 

“What he said doesn’t matter, I promise,” Felix says, his deep voice rumbling through you, close to your ear. “It’s hard to insult someone when you’re calling them pretty.”

You chuckle, looking up at him. “I’m sorry you had to hear that.”

“Ehh, it’s nothing I haven’t heard before. I’m sorry you had to hear that,” he says. “He was insane to think that I wouldn’t be into you.”

“Yeah, my fake boyfriend has to be into me,” you chuckle. You feel much calmer now. “It’s like, the main reason you’re here.”

Felix gives you an inquisitive look, like the combination of a frown and smile, before shaking his head. “Yeah sure, fake boyfriend.”

You take one last deep breath to ground yourself. 

“Alright, let’s go find our seats.”

~

You’re no stranger to weddings. The families and friends shuffle in, light piano music playing in the background while everyone decides whether they want to sit on the bride or groom’s side. You hear a few hushed conversations about how lovely the florals are and secretly beam with pride. 

Felix drags you to a pair of seats on the bride’s side in the back row. He’s sitting close to the aisle side, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pulling you close to his side. The small circles he’s rubbing into your shoulder are meant to be soothing, but you feel some of that ache blooming in your chest again. This is what it would feel like to really be with him. 

Johnny files in, taking his places in front of the round floral arch you put together. You avoid Johnny’s eyes at all costs, not wanting to scowl the entire ceremony. Jenny doesn’t deserve that. Felix, on the other hand, can’t seem to keep his eyes off Johnny. If looks could kill, Jenny would be a widow before she even got married. 

The swell of the wedding music starts up as the bridesmaids line up. Everyone stands, Felix taking your hand in his once again. You watch as a few of the bridesmaids do a double take at him, raking over his outfit briefly. One of them fully gawks at him for a moment before she remembers where she is. Your eyes are focused on the flowers, watching how they compliment the outfits and how they blend with the rest of the styling. 

The piano switches to a slower version of “Here Comes the Bride,” which feels strangely traditional with all the bohemian decor. Nonetheless, Jenny, arm in arm with her father, slowly marches down the aisle. Her gown is soft and flowy, her hair long, her veil made in the style of macrame. It matches perfectly with the bouquet you created for her, you beam with pride. You find yourself smiling and leaning into Felix’s shoulder. He turns to you, fully looking away from the bride, looking at you with a soft expression. Your focus is on the bouquet as Jenny steps up to the front. The ceremony begins when the officiant gestures for everyone to be seated.

Felix grasps your hand, lacing your fingers together, as you sit. He runs his thumb over your knuckles tenderly as he watches. Your other hand finds his bicep as you lean into him. He grins and subtly flexes for you. While Felix is focused on the couple at the front, his hand slips out of yours gently. For a moment, you’re filled with disappointment, until he shifts to grab your leg, fingers dancing along your knee. The room fades into the background, now all you care about is the way his fingers feel against your skin.

The voice of the officiant drones on. Felix’s eyes still firmly face forward as he caresses down your thigh, the hem of your dress riding up an inch or two under his grasp. You look down, watching in awe at the light ministrations, the pads of his fingers tracing little heart patterns on the inside of your knee. The sensation makes your heart flutter and the sensitive skin under Felix’s hand buzzes in anticipation. 

You glance up at him to find his eyes still trained on the exchanging of vows. He looks stoic, almost as if the way he’s touching you is a mindless activity. Maybe it is, maybe you’re getting carried away, awash in the building arousal. You try to remind yourself that this is fake, he’s doing this to help you put on a show for others, to rub it in Johnny’s face a little. Felix is a master at the act if he’s able to get you to believe, even if just for a second, that he returns your feelings. Your heart sinks as you think of your own little delusion that he could feel the same about you. 

He looks down at you then, head leaned into his shoulder, both hands grasping at his arm. Whatever look you give him must spur him on, this time he lightly drags his nails up your inner thigh. You gasp at the sensation, arousal pooling in your belly. Your knees lurch closed, trapping his hand between your thighs. He smiles at you again, this time flashing his teeth, the tip of his tongue tapping at the point of one of his canines. Your legs shudder slightly and you whine, so low only he can hear it. He delicately slides his hand out from between your thighs, wrapping his arm around your shoulders again. 

The noise of the room kicks up again, everyone clapping while “The Wedding March” plays on the piano. You stand on shaky legs next to Felix. As Johnny and Jenny come down the aisle, Felix pulls you to him and presses a kiss to your temple, making direct eye contact with your ex. Your eyes flutter at the possessive kiss, realizing that you hadn’t imagined Felix’s lips in the same spot the other night as you drifted off. As your mind spins, you miss the way Johnny sneers at Felix, disdain dripping in his gaze.

As the rest of the wedding guests file out of the room behind the couple, Felix grabs your hand and drags you out, trailing behind everyone. Heading towards the reception, he brings your hand to his mouth, giving it a quick peck. He looks at you, his eyes glinting with mirth, as he says, “Come on, let’s go try the cake.”

~

taglist: @binniesbabe @jeonginsleftcheek @ivydoesit23 @stayatinykatsy @mong---mong @palindrome969 @dottydarling @chiaki-nanami-aesthetic

[after-witch]

Horrorfest: Party Time [Yandere Mahito x Reader]

Title: Party Time [Yandere Mahito x Reader]

Synopsis: Mahito just wants you to have a nice Halloween.

For Horrorfest request: Mahito putting his darling through a House of Horrors.

Word count: 2823

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, body horror and gore, Mahito is his own warning here

Maybe it said something about your inherent ghoulishness that, when Mahito granted you the rare favor of allowing you to pick an activity to do outside the damp tunnel where he kept you, you chose this--going to a haunted house. 

A cheap one, too. One of those kinds that was retrofitted into an existing building during October and then packed out like a cheap weekend carnival on November 1st. The kind that ignored safety violations and tended to hire teenagers who showed up high or drunk or both. 

It was more cheesy than anything else. A series of dimmed rooms with strobe lights and spiderwebs, or people jumping out in mediocre costumes or revving up fake chainsaws. No, it wasn’t really scary… but to be fair, your definition of “really scary” had been completely upended the moment that you were kidnapped by a curse with a penchant for torturing people in ways you never thought possible before. 

But it was still a tradition, damn it, and if you couldn’t get through October without at least one Halloween tradition under your belt, you might just lose your mind. Or what was left of it, considering your circumstances.

Still, did Mahito have to be a spoilsport about it? He’d been grinning at the start, one arm slung around your shoulder, even though no one else could see him. By the time you’d gotten to the third room, he was pouting. Complaining. Whining. 

And now, at the end, as you walk out following one last jump scare involving an oversized doll costume, he’s rambling on and on about how these humans were terribly uncreative in their creation of a supposedly haunted house. Like you were just walking through the park and not a poorly lit room blasting spooky ambiance music as some tired teens tried to make you shriek. 

“I know humans are capable of better than this,” he muses, sourly, as you make your way out of the parking lot and back onto the side streets that will eventually lead you “home.” Not your home, never your home. But the only home you’ve known since he took you, and it’s better to consider it something familiar than to fully face the reality of your situation without a gloss of comfort.

“It wasn’t that bad,” you say, lightly, blandly. “I think you’re being too harsh.”

Mahito sighs, and pulls you closer. To anyone on the street without the gift of sight, you might look a bit drunk. Stumbling now and then, leaning into nothing at all. Mahito likes this, you think, and that’s why he does it all the time on the very rare occasions that you’re allowed out.

“But I’m not wrong!” You glance at him. The almost childish expression of disappointment is stomach-turning. “You didn’t even flinch or scream or anything fun. You weren’t scared.”

You start to answer, then stop. He’s right. A year ago you probably would have shrieked yourself silly, as simple and ridiculous as the haunted house was; but that was a year ago. That was before. 

“I’m… not scared of much any more.” Your words come out slow and carefully considered. It’s a habit ingrained in you by now. Mahito did love to take your words and run with them.

“Oh?” Mahito turns his head to look at you, and you catch the last moment of a grin that he pastes over with a solemn expression as soon as he sees you looking.  

“Poor thing,” is all he says. 

You don’t talk much on your way home after that.

--

“Mahito--”

“I promise, this will be fun!”

“Mahito--”

“Don’t worry so much, you’ll get wrinkles! Not that I’d mind, but I read this book from the 1980s on beauty perception and--”

“Mahito!”

Mahito pouts, puffing his cheeks out ridiculously. When he doesn’t say anything, you sit up straighter.

“I’m just saying this isn’t necessary.” You keep your tone gentle, sweet. You don’t want him to accuse you of being ungrateful again. The last time he did that--the less said, the better. “I already got my Halloween fix at the haunted house, really. And we watched a horror movie the other day, didn’t we? And you got me a book…” 

Your hand gestures ineffectually towards your nest of blankets, where a battered copy of Stephen King’s Pet Sematary lay. Mahito found it in a box of books someone threw on the curb and proudly brought it to you, like a cat bringing a dead sparrow to its owner.

Mahito’s expression turns sticky, and his voice coos to match. “Ohh, you’re being so sweet, pet! But I want to do this for you. Since you like Halloween!” He resumes setting out a small collection of large bowls, most with mismatched lids, humming a song you don’t know all the while. “I worked really hard on this, you know!”

“I…” You start to protest, but it doesn’t get far. There was never any use arguing with Mahito or even reasoning with him on most things. Curses did not have the same reason as human beings. That much you knew by now.

So you sit obediently on the ground in front of the beat-up coffee table he dragged in here not so long ago--for this very purpose, maybe?--and try to calm the writhing ball in your stomach.

“Where did you get this idea, anyway?” You ask. Your voice shakes a little, from the cold or worry,  you don’t know. 

Mahito hums, setting down what must be the last bowl and surveying his work. “I read it in a magazine of Halloween party ideas! Some of them look pretty fun. Bobbing for apples…” He looks up at you with an almost hungry smile. “Your hands have to be tied behind your back for that one. Humans sure get kinky on Halloween, don’t they?” 

Your cheeks heat up horribly but you don’t answer. It’s smarter not to indulge Mahito in any questions related remotely to sex. 

The line of bowls on the table looks like something out of a sad potluck. You wonder why he picked this idea, or anything in a book about Halloween parties.

You recognized the idea at once. It was one of those old fashioned party games where the host put food in bowls and told everyone it was something gross, like brains or eyeballs. You remember playing this game only once in your life as a child, and everyone thought it was dumb and boring even then.

Well, it was probably the easiest to do with only two of you; you’re grateful, anyway, that he decided not to go for apple bobbing, if what drew him to it was the rope.

“One final touch!” He practically skips over to you and holds out a ragged strip of black fabric. A blindfold. 

Oh, no. Nope, nope and nope. 

“Um, can’t we just turn off the lights?” There were a few flickering bulbs built into the walls--for service workers, you think, back when this tunnel was actually serviced--and Mahito kept a few battery powered lanterns around that he threw out and replaced whenever the batteries died. 

A pout. A shift on his legs, a hand on his hips.

“It’s more fun this way. Ugh, don’t be so boring…”

Ah, boring. The most dangerous word in Mahito’s vocabulary. And you aren’t being sarcastic when you think that, which is why you sigh and blow cool air out your mouth and nod at him. 

He giggles, and scampers behind you with the blindfold in tow.

“This is going to be so fun,” he says, practically trilling as he ties the blindfold around your eyes. The darkness is quick and artificial and awful. “Have you played it before?”

You hum something like assent. “Just once, when I was little.” 

Mahito presses a kiss to the top of your head and you fight the urge to squirm.

“If you don’t remember the rules, it’s like this: I put your hands in each bowl, and you tell me what you think it is!” 

Your heart begins to speed up, no matter how much you try to tell yourself to remain calm. It was just a blindfold, no big deal. It was just a stupid Halloween party game, no big deal.

It was just Mahito… well, uh, wait a minute. It was Mahito. You were right to worry. 

But you’re trying very, very hard not to--and that was as close as you’d get to remaining calm tonight.

You hear the sound of the various tops being pulled off the bowls, accompanied by little grunts and noises as Mahito perhaps struggled with the lids. 

Someone takes your hands--you jump, and Mahito laughs--and guides them to the edge of the bowl.

Something squishy and a little stiff. Wet, but only vaguely. Round, like bouncy balls. But they feel more organic than that. 

“Grapes,” you say. “They’re grapes.”

Mahito makes a choking sound. Did he not think you knew the tricks of the game? Maybe the first people to play the game decades and decades ago were caught unawares, but the answers were common knowledge by now. Grapes for eyeballs, spaghetti for intestines; some people got creative and made fake brains and stuff, too. 

He pulls your hands out of the bowl and sets them on the next.

Your hands plunge in and find not quite what you expected, but close enough. Instead of strings of spaghetti noodles, Mahito has chosen sausages. You suppose that was more realistic when it came to feel and size, anyway. They weren’t cold exactly, but that was nothing new--there was no fridge around here. 

“Sausages.” When he doesn’t respond. “Like, a whole row of them.” 

Mahito huffs. 

He’s such a spoilsport, you think. Maybe you ought to start guessing around to appease him. Or would he catch on that you were lying and get more annoyed at you treating him like glass? Or would that make him feel good? It was so, so hard to tell what you were meant to do sometimes. 

But he does take your hands, now a little slimy with cooking water, and set them on the next bowl.

This one is… a little different from the rest, and you couldn’t quite place it. It was soft, smooth, but almost sponge-like in texture. Like a gummy or…

”Gelatin?” You’re not quite sure for this one, and it comes through in your tone. Still, your fingers squish the mystery item. “Like, an organ?” You remembered once cooking beef liver for your dad and it had the same gummy, gelatin-like feel before it was cooked. Unpleasant and odd to touch, for sure. You didn't know if it tasted good.

“Yes!” Mahito sighs out the word, and at least he’s no longer acting like a pouty child when you guess right. It makes the ball in your stomach shrink down, just a little. Even if you’re still waiting for something to happen. Maybe he’ll try to jump scare you at the end or something. 

The next bowl is liquid, and you almost jerk your fingers back out by instinct. It couldn’t be water, it wasn’t thin enough. There is even a slight smell to it, almost artificial--red dye. Mahito would dye the fake blood red just to make it more authentic, wouldn’t he? 

“A smoothie, maybe? Or whole milk, or cream…” 

If Mahito cares that you didn’t give a singular answer, he doesn’t let you know. He only lets out a pouty whine and you wonder which of your three guesses was right. 

“Last bowl,” he says, before placing your hands on the edge of the plastic container. 

What in the world?

When you put your hands inside, your fingers are immediately met with a multitude of small, firm… somethings. Your fingers fiddle with one of them, feeling over the grooves. Wood, maybe? Figurines? You’re reminded, suddenly, of when cereal used to come with toys in the box. But you very much doubt Mahito collected a few dozen old cereal figurines. 

“I’m not sure,” you admit. “Really big wood chips? Figurines?” 

There’s a few moments of unusually heavy silence, and then Mahito whines. Whines! 

“You’re awful at this game. You only guessed one of them right! I thought you’d be better at it, since you’re into this human holiday…” 

Huh?

You scoff, though you’re not offended. Just confused. And tired. And wary. Nothing new there, when you think about it.

“What do you mean? The only one I wasn’t sure about was this last one… maybe the one before it, but it’s hard to tell the difference between milk and cream or whatever.”

You feel the presence of Mahito leaning over the table, feel his fingers fiddling with the back of your blindfold, and blink as the artificial blackness drops away to reveal Mahito sitting in front of you with a pouty look on his face. 

And then you look down at the mystery bowl, your hands still resting inside, and bile immediately rises into your throat when you realize two hideous truths:

One. The bowl is filled with transfigured humans. Small distorted shapes of horror. A whole bowl of them, piled high, like a candy dish on granda’s counter.

Two. Your hands are red. Not just red, but red with slick, thick gore. Blood. There was no mistaking the feel of it. The second-to-last bowl is filled halfway with blood. Real blood. Human blood.

Your neck turns slowly, like you’re a broken, mechanical doll that can’t quite complete the movement. The acidic bile in your throat reaches your mouth and you swallow, swallow, swallow. But all you can do is cough and hope the real vomit stays down. 

It shouldn’t surprise you, what you see. But somehow your stupid self thought he was playing a party game, a copycat out of one of his magazines. 

The bowls are not filled with peeled grapes and sausages and blobs of gelatin.

The bowls are filled with eyeballs of all different colors, most of them still trailing red optic nerves like tails; with strings of intestines, thick and slimy and pale; with livers in varying shades of brown and red. 

“Oh,” Mahito says, perking up, when he catches you looking at the bowl of livers. “I wanted to show you, look at this one!” He grabs one of the livers and holds it up for you to see. “He had some kind of disease, I think… see the funny lumps?”

You’re only aware that your body is shaking when your neck jerks and twinges in pain. 

“What the fuck,” you mutter. “What the fuck.” 

Mahito quirks his head. You hate that you know the confusion on his face is real. He really is curious about everything, all the time. Especially human thoughts and feelings and behaviors. A mad scientist if there ever was one; but at least a mad scientist had some sort of lofty, if fucked up, end goal. Mahito just was. 

“What’s the matter?” He scoots on his butt around the table, not stopping until he’s sitting next to you. You don’t fight--you can’t--when he takes your hands and holds them. He doesn’t mind the gore being smeared on his own fingers, you’re sure.

You feel like your eyebrows would fly off your head if they could.

“What’s the matter? What’s the--you… you used real human body parts--real people--for this game. That’s what’s the matter! Christ--”

Mahito’s eyebrows furrow.

“But that’s the game! You put all sorts of creepy things in bowls and people guess what it is.” He squeezes your hands. “Are you sure you aren’t just a sore loser because you stink at guessing?” 

How many people are in that bowl, anyway? The thought comes and goes; it would be like playing some fucked up game of “guess how many beans are in the jar!” Only there is no knick-knack prize if you guess right. Just a solid number to the bowl of horrors sitting only inches away from you.

How many were there, how old are they, do they have family, did it hurt, did they scream--

Your lips are dry when you lick them and speak, voice shell shocked and dull. “It’s a party game. You’re supposed to use things like, like--peeled grapes for eyeballs or spaghetti for intestines. It’s a dumb party game because it’s silly and no one is really freaked out by that if they’re older than 7 years old.” 

The game isn’t meant to end with you realizing that you’d been feeling up the organs of murdered people, is what you should say. But you’re not sure Mahito would recognize that for the rebuke that it is. 

“Ohh,” he says, and you can see it all clicking into place in his mind. After a few beats, he grins with pride. “Well, my version is an improvement.”

You must look incredulous again, because he continues. “See, my version is more fitting ” He nods to himself. “I’m much better at Halloween than humans.”

For once, you can’t disagree--not even in your own thoughts.

His version is really scarier than the original

[shanastoryteller]

happy birthday!

can I request some more hokage's daughter or marrying rich please? or anything else Naruto!

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5

The first part of the exam is a joke.

Sort of literally, because thanks to Naruto the Konoha Twelve all know the real purpose of the test, but also because Sasuke is able to answer all of these questions without even cheating. He knows Naruto can too, and the only reason Sakura even passed is that her theoretical knowledge is so advanced that it carried her past her mediocre ninjutsu and truly abysmal taijutsu, so this is a walk in the park for her.

Hinata, Neji, and Shikamaru are able to answer on their own as well and everyone else had already decided on their cheating strategy beforehand. The answers might not really matter, but they have to keep up appearances here.

When they get to the Forest of Death, Naruto leads them up to the trees, then says, “I’d ask if you were followed, but I figure you’d find that insulting.”

Sasuke has no idea what she’s talking about until the air next to her shimmers and then Itachi is sitting there. “You insult me all the time.”

“Aniki?” he asks incredulously, then glares at Naruto. “I hate when you don’t tell me the whole plan.”

Sakura pats him on the shoulder sympathetically.

She shrugs. “He’s just backup. Just in case. Remember-”

“Keep an eye on Gaara, don’t let him kill any Konoha shinobi, and if he looks like he’s loosing control or if I need backup, send a clone,” Itachi says. “Are you going to tell me why you’re so worried about Gaara in particular? He’s got a high death count, but that’s not exactly unusual.”

At least she hasn’t told Itachi everything either.

“You can trust him,” Sasuke says, even though Naruto knows that, even though he wouldn’t be here if she did it.

Even with those she trusts, it’s hard for her to lay all her card on the table, to trust them with everything. In a lot of ways, she trusts her parents. But she doesn’t tell them – well, most things.

Naruto looks away guiltily, then gives a short nod, but doesn’t say anything.

Sasuke sighs. “He’s like Naruto.”

Itachi is a genius. He understands what he’s saying immediately and his eyes widen. “That’s not in his file.”

If Itachi doesn’t know, then Minato probably doesn’t either. He would have told his Anbu. Sasuke knows that Naruto had worried that he’d hid it from her deliberately.

“I could be wrong,” Naruto says, even though she’s not, even though she wouldn’t be this worried and going to this much effort if she doubted herself at all. “He’s not exactly like me though.”

“His seal,” Itachi says. “It doesn’t keep them completely separate like yours does?”

Sasuke keeps his expression relaxed from years of practice.

“Right,” she says. “So don’t try and fight him head on, okay? We’ll help you.”

Itachi presses his lips together then nods, disappearing in a swirl of leaves.

“Come on,” Sakura says, “the sooner everyone else collects a scroll, the sooner we can get to the tower ourselves.”

Naruto nods, forming the Ram and a half dozen copies of his best friend pop into existence.

Meeting up with everyone would draw too much attention to themselves and splitting up to keep an eye on the teams is asking for trouble. Luckily, Naruto’s shadow clones are able to bridge that gap.

Not that she’s supposed to know how to do those, but Sasuke has lost count of the number of Naruto’s secrets he’s keeping.  

[shotoyami]

Could do gambit x f reader basically f reader is a normal person working and is saved one day by gambit in a fight and offers to take her home and basically gets to know her and take her out on a date’s <33

prenotes: Gambit beloved <33 !!! The silly little Cajun man, he has my heart… I loved writing this sm, super cute, might make a part two if anyone would like to see that!!!

Thank you so much for the request, anon<3

pairing: Remy LeBeau/Gambit + female reader

warnings: none, yet again!

genre: fluff, that’s all to be seen here

notes: so please ignore the jokes I make in here if anyone doesn’t like them, I had to make them as a retail worker and the usual daily struggles of retail. but if anyone laughs, I’m glad! (please respect your retail workers, they don’t get paid enough or appreciated enough)

word count: 900+

Sir, this is a Walmart…

Work. Mediocre, stressful, annoying. At least, that’s a normal day on the job. Another day at some high end grocery store that cannot be named here, just dealing with the same customers to expect every day. The entitled old people, the crass young people that shouldn't be without adult supervision, crying babies that the mother literally is not even a foot away from and doesn’t care about, and so much more stupidity. 

“You young kids and not respecting their elders. I swear, it’s like I always talk to the same person no matter where I go unless it’s a machine!” Like now, where an older woman is harassing me.

I force a civil smile onto my face, knowing everything is both on video and on audio, and that anything against store policy could get me fired. “I’m sorry to hear that, ma’am. Unfortunately, I can’t bend the rules for anyone. If I change the price for you, I’d have to change the price for everyone in the store- which can’t happen, of course.” I try to explain to the woman– which is stupid, because when do entitled people ever listen to reason? She starts shouting, which is to be expected, and of course a supervisor comes over, trying to gauge what’s happening, and now she’s screaming at them too. The supervisor gives me a glance and I just put my hands up defensively and turn and walk away– because I don’t get paid anywhere near enough to deal with this crap.

I fall into the breakroom’s couch with a long sigh, making one of my coworkers giggle. “Gosh (y/n), tell us all how you really feel girl.” I groan, but let out a small laugh, finding humor in my coworker’s words. “Was it Sharon again? Or Beth?”

I sat up as I respond, “Neither, it was Martha.” My coworker grimaces at the name, before she sighs.

“Yikes. I’m sorry girl, she’s a pain.” I snicker, nodding in agreement. “But have you seen that new looker that’s been coming in recently?” That sparks my attention, and I sit fully toward her, attentively. “No? Okay, so there’s this guy that’s been coming in, right? And he’s got weird eyes and a southern accent, and he flirts with everyone.” I nod along as she speaks, humming afterward in thought.

“No, I haven’t seen or met him yet. He sounds interesting?” She nods in agreement, but we’re interrupted as our supervisor comes in, rolling his eyes.

“Martha.” Is all he says, making both of us giggle. “You’re good to go back on the floor, (y/n).” I nod and hop up, making my way back out onto the sales floor.

Of course, my luck willing, there’s some weird looking people (hey, we’re not trying to judge here, but just imagine this the same kinda way as describing your neighborhood crackhead) getting into a fight on the sales floor. I stand there, awkwardly, because I’m not trying to get into the middle of all of that. 

As I go to shuffle on by, because I don’t get paid enough to care, some kind of metal comes flying at me. My survival instincts aren’t survivaling because I just stare at my impending doom for a moment, accepting my fate and all, until a card with a purple looking hue just flies in front of me and blows up the metal??????

Whilst pondering my existence and how I didn’t just die, I get grabbed and my snatcher???? savior???? just kind of runs, cursing in some other language – french? Once again accepting my fate, I don’t exactly struggle or anything because this is all on camera and surely  someone will clock me out for this or just give me extended pay time for dealing with this crap.

The person finally stops and sets me down in the back of the parking lot, and I find that it’s my coworker’s deemed ‘new looker’. “Ya’ alri’, cher?” I slowly nod, probably looking like a big eyed fish or a barn owl or something. He chuckles, offering a hand, “The name’s Remy LeBeau, ya’ welcome fa’ the save. How’s ‘bout yous make it up ta’ me by lettin’ me walk ya’ on home? Ya’ off the clock?” Again, I just nod stupidly – my coworkers can clock me out, it should be fine. Fortunately, I use public transportation anyway, so it all works out.

Of course, everyone’s staring at the man next to me. Not so much for his “good looks,” but moreso for his odd appearing eyes – red on black. The entire subway is…rather quiet for once. It’s a nice change, a welcome change. He’s the one that breaks the silence as we get off of the subway, “Ya’ from ‘round these parts?” He sort of leans over me, smirking but still being quite respectful. He’s probably fishing for something in common, given his thick southern accent.

“No, I’m from the next state over.” He slowly nods, humming and keeping the conversation going similarly until we arrive at my front door. “So, I be seein’ ya’ again? Here, le’mme give ya’ my fone number.” He quickly comes up with a way to scribble down his digits, handing the paper to me. “An’ maybe we can go on a nice little date or somethin’ soon, cher?”

A goofy smile comes onto my face at this words, a bit shocked that all it took was a bit of small took to charade this man, but I nod in agreement nonetheless. “I’d appreciate if it involved me not being in immediate danger next time?” He chuckles and nods.

“See ya’ then, darlin’.”