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wannaeatramyeon · 2 months ago

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Meeting Student!Gun Park for the First Time: Part 1

Part 2! G/N. 3.2k. Remember when Gun wanted to get his GED? Well. Stranger to~ Masterlists

"How old are you?"

"20."

Press X for doubt, you think, and that's the exact meme you send over on chat.

"20 like 20 or 20 like you're mid 30s and planning your mid life crisis 20?"

You know you're being rude and making a terrible first impression. It's the first day of a new school year, of a new school in fact, and for some reason the class is held on video call and you're all forced to pair off with a classmate for an icebreaker introduction.

It’s already cringe worthy and awkward enough, icebreakers must have been created as a form of torture. To add insult to injury, you're sure this guy is bullshitting you.

"I'm 20." He deadpans.

Momentarily, you’re stunned into silence. It stretches almost a tad too long before you manage to choke out, “My bad. Sorry."

Wow. You're torn between thinking that's a rough 20, this guy has easily got 40 years under his belt and oh no, when is your puberty and hormones gonna kick in like that.

And that's also the exact moment this 20 year old Gun Park takes a drag on a cigarette and you decide that it's definitely a rough 20.

"So what do you do for fun?" You probe, and you have the distinct feeling he might say something like alimony, planning his third marriage, investing in the stock market - whatever someone in their 50s might say but-

To your surprise and glee, his body language turns shifty.

He likes to game he says, like it's a dirty little secret. Amongst other things. Mentions something about training and martial arts and you fight to keep a straight face as it turns out you were also right about investing in shares and the stock market.

Gaming, however, is what you latch on to.

"Cute. I bet I could kick your ass."

"Oh yeah?"

"Oh yes."

And this is how you ended up at 4am on a school night, playing Tekken with your new classmate and getting your ass kicked.

"One more!" You screech down the mic, after the KO sign appears on screen, mumbling something about cheating and how if you can time this combo just right-

There's a huff of laughter coming through your tinny headphones and an amused "Fine."

Dark circles under your eyes grow. It's been a week of straight losses.

You blame the sleep deprivation on Gun Park, though really you have your own stubbornness to blame.

He never tends to say much during the gaming sessions apart from the odd expletive and you rant enough after each of your defeats for the both of you.

Sometimes this will earn you a chuckle and he will snidely add that you asked for this, you were the one who was supposed to kick his ass. This would piss you off enough for another game or three in the hopes of defeating him and getting to gloat.

Which unfortunately has not happened yet.

With a sigh, you hope your camera quality this morning is bad enough and pixelated enough that your poor sleep habits don't show.

You scan over your classmates, the few that have their camera turned on and find him.

Gun looks completely fine. He looks completely fine in what must be 4k and ugh, you scrunch your nose up in annoyance.

You keep an eye on him through the class. Observe how he's usually paying rapt attention, scribbling and typing up notes every now and then.

It's impressive how studious he is.

In comparison, you're daydreaming. Thinking about lunch, other combos or characters to play to counter his own when you catch on to the back end of a sentence as your teacher mentions ‘this’ is something to pay attention to as it will be on the pop quiz.

Huh? You blink a couple times. What is ‘this’? Unfortunately she swiftly moves onto another topic.

You type out a direct message to the only person you know.

You: I missed that, what did she just say?

Gun: You should have been paying attention.

You: Fuck you man!

You see his eyes dip to the bottom of the camera screen, briefly moving as he presumably reads your message.

He smirks.

That night he kicks your ass again.

Then as consolation, reveals what will be on the pop quiz.

If Gun looked like that in 4k, nothing could prepare you for how he looked in real life.

You're setting up your laptop and notepad in the classroom, the first actual in-person session, when someone takes a seat next to you.

Initially you feel a surge of irritation that they could have sat anywhere else and chose to sit next to you, then you look at the offender and-

Hold on.

You double, triple-take-

Is that?

It must be.

Shit.

It's fucking Gun Park.

You don't entirely regret your initial comments on his looks because this guy definitely does not look 20 but goddamn he looks-

He chooses that moment, when your jaw is on the floor, to turn to you and give you a nod of acknowledgement.

"Y/N."

"H-hi." You manage, and even to your ears it sounds like a simpering fool.

He must have thought so too if the quirk of his lips is anything to go by.

The cherry on top is that you expected this guy to smell like stale smoke, instead all you get is fresh laundry and something faintly dark and heady like leather and cedarwood.

Fuck.

Control yourself, a disapproving voice in your head says. Even that sounds vaguely like Gun.

It does nothing to stop your wandering gaze, peering at him in your periphery when you think he's not looking.

After you have taken your chance to not so discreetly run your eyes up and down his form, the only thing that makes you feel better is his hair. Because yeah he might be hot, but holy shit that must be a gallon of hair gel in there.

The other thing, as it turns out, that makes you feel a lot better is that he doodles.

It’s utterly charming.

Someone like Gun Park doesn't look like he doodles, but in between lines of his chicken scratch (seriously, who can even read that), there's little stick figures.

Maybe all the time you thought he was being studious he was just drawing-

Wait. You squint at the picture.

Is this guy for real?

"Are they fucking?" You whisper, using your pen to point at the page.

He doesn't answer straight away. There's a moment of surprise as he reacts like this is another secret of his he has unwittingly let you in on before his nostril flares and his eyes narrow and you grin in response.

Your grin grows when he grits out an answer. "No. Fighting."

He doesn't call you a dumbass but you can hear it loud and clear tacked on at the end.

"Whatever, pervert." You counter. You guess if you squint even harder then you suppose they could be fighting. Although the way one is lying on top of another is very suggestive. You don't hesitate to point that out to him.

Gun closes his eyes and counts to ten.

Even without a seating plan, one forms.

Places taken by chance on the first day becomes a regular arrangement.

You exchange a few words with your classmates, familiarise yourself somewhat with their names and faces. Pieces of their backstory, why they're here studying for a GED but take your spot next to Gun regardless.

No one really talks to him, you've heard them saying he's menacing and intimidating. Yet when your first encounter of him was mistaking him as someone about to hit mid life crisis, how intimidating can he really be.

Besides, he still doodles his lewd figures that he insists are not in any way shape or form comprising sexual positions. So no, you don't find him intimidating at all.

Gun, as you have come to know, is a man of few words. He is also unsurprisingly not great at literature.

What you don't yet know is he likes to say what he means and mean what he says. His patience only extends to The Art of War, so all the flowery prose and poetry only serves to irritate him.

If Gun glared at you the way he's currently glaring at the textbook, you think you may either burst into tears or burst into flames.

Luckily you do neither of those things but you do take pity on him. Leaning over, you ask him quietly if he needs help.

He doesn't respond but the pen he's clutching in his right hand snaps in half.

Alright then.

Half an hour later, when the class empties out you ask Gun to follow you to the library.

He hesitates, and you add "if you've got time" to give him an out. In the end he doesn't take it and trudges obediently after you.

You very quickly learn that he really doesn't like literature. You're explaining and working him through the analysis and also mildly offended at the bored look on his face.

"This is a waste of time," he interjects and there's a sullen undercurrent to his words.

"Just memorise the analysis then." Exasperation tinges your tone, "That's all you need to do to pass."

He arches a brow at your words.

"They're testing your memory. So just remember what our teacher says."

There's an angry air of resignation as Gun nods, and you slide your notes over for him to copy.

Not long after, you have your first minor evaluation on the literature material.

You notice during the test that while the vein in Gun’s temple is prominent and he’s clutching his (new) pen tighter, there’s barely any pause as he fills in the answers.

A few days later, the graded papers are handed back. There's a sigh of relief from Gun.

He gives you a smile, small and genuine, eyes crinkling at the corner.

"You owe me one," you tell him jokingly though he takes it to heart and gives you a stern nod.

Gun repays his debt, with a coffee.

He places the paper cup on the desk in front of you. Logo of the coffee house to the side but still visible. It's new, expensive, and there’s regular lines around the block.

Of course it would be from there.

The issue is, who repays a debt with an espresso. He didn’t even ask for your drink of choice!

"Thanks for this thimble of coffee," you remark as Gun sniffs in distaste at your comment, placing his own matching cup in front of him and saying something about how it's the best untainted way to drink it.

Of course he would also be a coffee snob.

You tell him you usually like it with a bit more cream and a lot more sugar and he mutters that you sound like Goo.

You think that's an insult.

"Well, at least Goo has good taste," you snipe back with a grin.

Gun closes his eyes and counts to ten.

You: Are you doodling or actually writing notes?

You: Cos on camera you look very studious but I’ve seen your notepad

Gun: None of your business

You: Still drawing your disgusting pornographic stick men then

Gun: They are not-

Gun: Whatever

You: Ok, maybe that espresso wasn’t terrible

Gun: I know

You: Who’s Goo anyway?

Gun: …

Gun: No-one

You: Suuuure

You: Tekken tonight?

Gun: Aren’t you tired of getting your ass kicked?

You: >:(

You: Do you wanna go over the new lit material in the library this week?

Gun: Ok

Gun: Thanks for your help

You: :)

Gun: You’re tired. You should game less.

You: Spoken like a coward!

Gun: Dumbass

You: Hey!!

Gun: I’ll bring you an espresso tomorrow. You need it.

You: Does it have to be an espresso?

Gun: Yes

You: …Thanks

To anyone else, the figure standing in the doorway is just smoking. To you, it suspiciously looks like they’re waiting.

It's not a crime. Gun Park can wait for whatever or whoever he wants.

What really throws you off is his smoking. You've seen him casually take one single drag before throwing the whole cigarette away. Even to you, it seems like a waste.

However, this time he smokes one all the way to the filter before stubbing it out. Then does the same to a second, and third.

Strange, very strange.

You approach him. Taking gentle steps, in case he might get spooked and bolt which is really a ridiculous notion for someone like him. Nevertheless, you keep your footsteps light, yourself clearly in view and you wander over to him.

"Hey," you say, with a somewhat forced smile. He doesn't acknowledge your greeting apart from a brief nod.

"... Everything ok?"

It's a perfectly normal question to ask but a vastly bizarre one for Gun. He doesn't look like the type of person where people casually enquire about his well being.

He must have thought so too if the look he gives you is anything to go by.

In response, he stubs out his cigarette (his fourth!) then asks, stilted and stiffly, if you want to come back to his for a game of Tekken.

At least that's what you interpret as he seems to be crazy cryptic.

"Are you interested in Tekken?"

"...Yes." You wonder what on earth this question is because did you hallucinate all those games you played together?

"Then meet me. After class."

"Where? Here?"

"No. At mine."

"Where's that?"

"..."

He gives you another look, as if you're the one trying to coax a secret out of him despite him offering.

Gun dips forward, murmurs quietly into your ear his address and some vague directions like it's highly confidential information.

You nod along, thinking what is with this guy.

So firstly, what the fuck.

Then secondly, what the fuck.

Don't think you hadn't noticed the designer brands Gun wears. If they're fakes, they're very convincing fakes. But you're almost certain they have got to be counterfeit when he brought you over to a junkyard claiming this is where he lives.

You've seen films like this. Granted, it's less in a junkyard and more in the middle of nowhere in America where college kids meet their gruesome ends in fantastical ways.

You never thought this would happen to you. You have sorely miscalculated.

Is this Gun Park (if that even is his real name) going to butcher you and leave your body on top of a pile of scrap metal in the corner?

Instead of a night of gaming where you’re the one KO-ing him, he’s actually the one that’s going to chase you around wearing a mask and wielding a knife or axe?

"You’re here. Come in," Gun says, opening his front door just as your inner monologue begins to truly spiral out of control and you're considering doing a runner.

"Eh?" You grunt like an idiot, not noticing when the shack appeared nor when you stepped onto his porch, or the side eyes Gun had been giving you.

He gives you another look, likely regretting inviting you at all, and leaves the door ajar for you to either enter or turn back and go home.

"This is... nice," you lie, through the skin of your teeth.

Gun sees cleanly through your white lie and exhales a huff of amusement.

It's sparse. Peeks of luxury here and there - the extensive PC gaming rig, the entertainment system and consoles, to name a few.

Apart from that, it's barely a home.

"Take a seat." He offers, and it sounds more like an order. Obediently you sit on his sofa, feeling very much a guest.

"You're not in danger," he says, bemused at how awkward you are in his domain, how tense you hold yourself.

'That's exactly what a killer would say,' you think and when you hear a low chuckle, you realise that you said it aloud.

"Don't worry," Gun reassures and it doesn’t really help before he strides off to somewhere in his house and leaves you sitting alone.

He returns back minutes later as you’re in the middle of admiring his entertainment set up and going through his vinyl collection (because obviously someone like Gun has vinyls) with a coffee for you that looks much more milky and to your taste than the usual ones he offers.

“Thanks.” you take your drink and return back to your seat.

Taking the first sip, you finally manage to relax. Sinking into a sofa that is much more comfortable than at first glance and you take in your surroundings a bit more.

Sort of. You actually take in Gun Park more.

He’s casual, in a way you have never seen or even considered. Dressed in a t-shirt and grey sweatpants, hair floppy and the only styling is done with his hands running through his hair now and then to keep it back.

Even during the online classes, he is usually dressed up in an open collared shirt.

If you thought he was hot before, it’s nothing compared to now. There’s an air of domesticity, the drink he made for you cradled in your hands, and the distinct feeling that not many people have had the luxury to see Gun in his natural habitat, so intimate and vulnerable.

You wonder if this is how he looks all those nights you’ve been gaming together.

You catch his eyes, having been caught checking him out and he raises his eyebrows at your blatant staring.

Blood rushes to your cheeks as he chuckles into his own espresso and takes a sip.

"Holy shit, I won!"

You're familiar with the KO screen. What you're not familiar with is being on the side of victory. You're usually a hair trigger away from rage quitting, from throwing a tantrum down the mic.

Finally. All your hard work has paid off. Time spent thinking of combos, attacks and defences (which would have been better spent studying) is coming to fruition.

You peer over to Gun, expect the controller he is clutching to maybe have been crushed into pieces with his freakish strength. Expected nothing except for a vein throbbing on his temple.

What you do find is-

Gun looking at you, fondness in his eyes. He's taking in your grin, letting your gloating slide.

Doesn't do more than roll his eyes when you perform a victory dance of sorts around him.

And when you get in his face to tell him that you're the winner, you're the best-

(More words are on the tip of your tongue but your gaze drops to his lip, drawn to the small smile he wears.

It sinks in.

The patience he has, the attention he gives, the way he has opened his home to you.

From the very first meeting, the even-handed way he has dealt with your insults, entertained you to the early hours of the morning on Tekken.)

Gun reaches out, tugs your hand and pulls you into his lap and agrees.

"Yes. The best."

You think it's a lie, an embellishment.

But the way he holds you - tender and precious, and the way he leans forward to rest his forehead against yours - soft, like you might break - can't be anything else but the whole truth.

(Update! Part 2 here!)

#lookism #lookism x reader #gun park #gun park x reader #park jonggun x reader #park jonggun #wannaeatramyeon

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whocaresstillthelouvre · 7 days ago

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Foxglove Downs Chapter 1: The Stallion

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x Lucius Verus x Female Reader Rating: Teen. (Eventual E. MDNI) Summary: As owner of Foxglove Downs, the prestigious stables and training grounds where world-renowned show jumpers Marcus Acacius and Lucius Verus practice, you find yourself caught between the two rivals, pulled into a world of fierce competition and unspoken desires. Warnings: Love triangle, horse talk, jealousy, pining, almost kissing, flirting, age gap (Marcus is in his 40’s, Lucius is in his 20’s). Reader is in her 30's, has hair, and has a nickname: Sunny. Words: 3,500

Foxglove Downs Masterlist Masterlist

A/N: I'm excited to start sharing this story with you. It's been rattling around in my brain for the past couple of weeks. This all started, as always, with @ohheypedrito and I talking about Marcus and Lucius. Thank you to @schnarfer for the show jumping idea when I mentioned how badly I wanted Marcus and Lucius to be rivals. Also, the biggest thank you to @devineconjuring who can not only translate my terrible typed messages to her... but also be the best beta who makes my writing 1000000x better.

Standing at the edge of the training arena, a gentle breeze from the rolling hills surrounding Foxglove Downs sends a chill across your skin.

These stables have always felt like a second home to you. Every day, you'd make the short walk down the sloping hill from your home to your favorite place, Foxglove Downs–the world-class stables your family has owned for decades. This is where your parents ran their prize business, passing down their love for horses and hard work to you. From a young age, they entrusted you with tasks like mucking out stalls, filling water troughs, and assisting with feedings. While other kids played video games and watched TV, you’d spent every spare moment watching the horses being trained and groomed, eagerly listening to and learning from the experienced employees.

It was always evident that you’d follow in their footsteps. Horse riding was not just a hobby for you–it was a way of life, a passion that runs deep in your blood. After all, both of your parents were accomplished equestrians themselves, making horseback riding feel like second nature to you since before you could walk.

But professional riding was not the path that you took. Now an accomplished horse breeder, you also own Foxglove Downs. Passed down to you by your parents once they decided to retire, you happily spend your days caring for your beloved horses and overseeing the prestigious breeding and training operations. This is truly your idea of heaven.

Especially when the two hottest champion equestrians call your arena their practice grounds.

The sound of hooves hitting the ground echoes across the field. Blocking the late afternoon sun from your eyes, you watch as world champion show jumper Marcus Acacius glides his horse over a series of jumps. For such a large and intimidating force, his grace and ease are on full display as he and his horse easily clear each obstacle. Watching the way Marcus guides his horse through a trickier series of jumps, you find it hard to believe that he’d come from such humble beginnings.

“He’s pushing it today,” you whisper to yourself, noticing the tension in Marcus’s shoulders. The wooden fence is rough against your hands as you lean into it further to watch him as he nears where you stand.

His horse clips the top rail of the final jump, sending the pole clattering to the ground. You frown, watching as he circles back, his face set in frustration.

“Ouch.” A familiar voice catches your attention.

Turning, you see Lucius Verus, Marcus’s main rival. Casually leaning against the fence, his blue eyes twinkling with the mischief he’s famous for.

“Be nice,” you reply with a smirk. “Never seen anyone better.”

He moves closer with an air of superiority, clutching his chest in mock offense. His confidence on full display, that of someone who has never faced any type of hardship in his life thanks to his family’s wealth and status. “You wound me. And here I thought you had an eye for talent.”

You laugh, the sound carrying across the grounds. “I do… but that’s why I breed the horses and leave the jumping to you two.”

“So, what are you doing down here?”

“He asked me to be here,” you gesture towards Marcus. “He wants my opinion on his new filly.”

“Is that what it takes for me to get your attention?”

“Yep. That, or cooking me pasta alla vodka.”

“I can't cook. But I do know a great restaurant. Let me take you there,” he offers, angling more towards you.

You let out a laugh, tilting your head back. “Really? Again, it’s not going to happen. Just like the last five times you asked.”

Lucius–the ever-consummate flirt–leans in closer, his voice low. “Ah, yes. This is when you tell me to open up my phone and dial a random hookup.”

You straighten your posture, locking eyes with him. “Feel free to do so.”

“But there’s no fun in that. Especially when the prize is so… beautiful.” His eyes look you up and down.

"I’m not just another trophy to be won, Verus.”

“Oh, I know,” he whispers, now close enough for you to feel his breath.

Before you can retort, the sound of hoofbeats grows louder. Marcus brings his horse to a stop near the fence, dismounting with fluid grace. His dark eyes flick between you and Lucius as you take a small step, giving yourself some space. A slight frown creases his brow, no doubt having noticed your interaction.

"Sunny," he nods in greeting, then turns to Lucius. "Verus. I didn't expect to see you here."

“Looking good out there, Acacius,” Lucius praises, a slight edge to his voice.

Marcus sends him a singular nod before looking over to you. Your breath hitches at the sight of him–the sun highlighting the silver streaks in his hair, his denim shirt stretching across the muscles of his broad shoulders.

“It’s always good to see Barley again,” you smile, admiring Marcus’s trusty stallion you have worked with since he was a foal. “He moves like a dream.”

Marcus's lips quirk into a rare smile. “He does. He’s perfect.” You feel the heat creep up your neck as his eyes don’t leave yours.

“Well, Sunny,” Lucius interrupts your thoughts, his voice low, his Irish accent alluring. “Another satisfied customer, hm?”

His smirk and wink make your heart race, his eyes lit with playful mirth.

Rolling your eyes at his comment, you can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips. “I aim to please.”

Marcus clears his throat, drawing your attention back to him. “The filly’s in the stables if you want to go take a look.”

“Of course,” you nod. As you turn to follow Marcus, you’re stopped by Lucius’s hand on your arm.

“Don’t forget about our dinner plans tonight, darling,” he says. You raise an eyebrow at him. “Still never called anybody. I’m free tonight.”

You pull your arm away and chuckle. “And you’ll continue to be.”

As you walk away with Marcus, you can feel Lucius’s eyes on you.

Tension seems to roll off Marcus as he leads you to the stables.

“So,” you say to him, trying to focus on business. “What did you want to discuss about the filly?”

"I’ve been watching her. She’s got potential, but her left hind leg…”

As he walks into the stables, you watch the way he moves. Confident and graceful, yet so broad and strong.

“Have you tried adjusting her shoeing?” Your mind works through possible solutions as you pass by horses nickering softly.

He shakes his head as he comes to a stop outside a stall, where a beautiful chestnut filly pokes her head over the door.

“Not yet. I wanted your opinion first,” he says softly. “This is Daisy.”

You reach out, stroking the filly’s velvet nose. She snuffles in your hand, looking for a treat. “Smart move. Let’s take a look at her movement.”

Marcus leads the horse out into the aisle. His strong hands handle the young horse gently. The filly prances, eager to be out of her enclosure, and Marcus smiles as she nuzzles his shoulder.

“Easy, girl,” his deep voice soothes.

You watch as he walks her up and down the aisle, your trained eye catching the slight hitch in her left hind leg. Barely noticeable to anybody else but you and Marcus.

“I see what you mean. It’s subtle,” you say, biting your lower lip in concentration. You move closer, running your hand down the horse’s leg. “It could become a problem. Let’s take her outside. I want to see her move on the arena ground.”

He guides the filly out into one of the smaller practice grounds.

“Let’s see her trot.”

Marcus nods, urging the filly into a smooth trot. Her hooves kick up small clouds of dust as she moves. You watch intently, noticing every nuance.

“There,” you point. “I see it.”

He brings Daisy to a halt, his brows furrowed in concentration. “What do you think?” he asks, his voice laced with concern.

You approach the two of them. “Here, feel this,” you say, rubbing your hand along her hip. “There’s tension in the muscle.”

He reaches over, his large hand brushing against yours as he feels the spot. His brows furrow in concentration, trying to locate what you feel.

“I’m not sure I…” he begins, his confused voice trailing off.

You place your hand over his without thinking, guiding it along Daisy’s flank. Something sparks against your skin when it presses on his, sending a shiver down your spine. Your hand looks so small above his large one.

“Do you feel that?” you ask softly, pressing his fingers gently into the muscle. “There’s a slight knot here. I think that’s causing her to favor.”

He leans closer, his chest nearly meeting your back as he concentrates. You can feel his warm, steady breath on your neck–it heats your body, a feeling for him that you’ve been trying to push away revealing itself.

Daisy shifts, causing you to stumble slightly.

Marcus's strong arm instinctively wraps around your waist to steady you.

"Careful," he whispers, his deep voice rumbling through you.

Your head turns to thank him, but the words catch in your throat. He’s so close, his face mere inches away from yours. From this distance, you can see the flecks of gold shine through the dark of his eyes.

He glances down at your lips for a moment before meeting your eyes again.

You clear your throat, stepping back slightly.

“Thanks,” you manage to say, your voice breathless.

He nods, his hand lingering on your waist a beat longer before dropping away.

“No problem,” he says, his voice gruffer than usual.

You take a deep breath, trying to steel your nerves.

“So… it’s not as bad as I feared. I think targeted massage sessions and stretching exercises could help. Maybe adjust her shoeing too, just to be safe."

Relief washes over his face. “Good to hear. Was worried we might have to retire her before she even got started.”

You smile at his obvious care for the horse.

You feel Marcus’s eyes on you as you continue to examine the horse and coo softly as she nuzzles your hand.

“Other than that, she’s perfect,” you admire, turning to him.

“She is,” he says, his eyes focused on you.

—-

“Great future ahead of her,” you say, breaking the silence as you and Marcus lead Daisy back to the stables.

He nods. “Thanks to your expertise.”

The warmth in his voice sends a flutter through your heart, and you quickly look away, focusing on the path ahead. Approaching the stables, movement in the nearby arena catches your eye. Lucius is there, leading his horse over a series of jumps as they move in perfect rhythm. You stop in your tracks when Lucius’s blue eyes meet yours and he flashes you a smile.

Marcus realizes your pause, turning towards you. Lucius’s eyes shift to Marcus, his expression faltering for a moment, eyes narrowing slightly. He brings his horse to a halt, patting its neck as he watches you both. Even from this distance, you can see the tightness in his jaw and the slight furrow of his brow.

You nod towards him, offering a slight smile before heading for the stables. The air between you and Marcus tenses again. The rest of the walk is silent, save for the sound of hoof and boot steps.

You can feel his eyes on you as you open the horse’s stall.

After a long silence, Marcus clears his throat and asks directly, "How did Lucius do out there?"

You turn to face him, surprised by the question. His eyes search your face for any hint of your thoughts.

“He’s… talented,” you admit carefully. “So are you.”

Marcus nods, his expression unreadable as he leads the filly into her stall. He secures the latch, then turns to face you, his dark eyes intense.

"Lucius is flashy," he says, his voice low.

You raise an eyebrow at his comment. “Flashy, huh?”

He slowly nods. “All style, very little room for substance. He’s good, just… all about the show.”

“I guess everyone has their own style. I’d say you have a certain style that works well for you, too.”

A small smile lifts the corner of his lips. “High praise.”

You laugh, the sound easing some of the tension. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

With one last pat against the horse’s neck, Marcus closes the stall door and turns towards you, closer than you expected.

“I really appreciate you looking her over.”

“Of course. It’s my job to make sure they’re in top form.”

He takes a step closer. “You’re the best around.” His voice turns soft. “Truly.”

Stuttering, you try to find the words, overwhelmed by how close and handsome he is. You clear your throat, taking a step back from him.

"Well, I should probably get going. It's getting late."

Marcus nods, his expression unreadable. "Of course. Thank you again for your help."

As you turn to leave, Lucius enters the stables, leading his horse. His eyes flick between you and Marcus, a hint of tension in his shoulders.

“Heading out so soon?" Lucius asks.

You nod, offering a small smile. “Got some paperwork waiting for me back at the clubhouse.”

“The glamorous life of a horse breeder,” Lucius teases.

“Someone’s gotta do it,” you shrug noncommittally, trying to dissipate some of the growing tension. “I’ll see you guys later.”

As you make your way towards the stables’ exit, you feel both men’s eyes on you.

The gravel crunches beneath your boots, and you can’t help but look back. You catch a glimpse of Marcus and Lucius, their heads bent close in conversation.

Two men, both the top competitors in their field, always pitted against each other. The young and brash Lucius Verus, with his charming smile and devil-may-care ways, versus the dependable champion Marcus Acacius, with his quiet intensity.

And you. Trapped in the midst of their rivalry, both in and out of the arena.

You shake your head, attempting to knock those thoughts aside as you step into Foxglove’s clubhouse. Leather and polished wood surround you. You’re used to the look and smell—old money—as a few members linger in the lounge.

You make your way to your office, your boot steps echoing in the empty hallway. Settling behind your desk, your mind replays today–the way Marcus’s skin felt against yours, the way Lucius looked at you. Two very different men, but both have captured your heart and mind equally.

Marcus, with his quiet strength and deep understanding of horses. Sometimes you think he knows them better than he knows people. You’ve always admired his dedication, the way he commands every second in the arena.

And then there’s Lucius, with his quick-witted ways and charming flirtation. He lights up any room he enters, drawing everyone—including you—in with his magnetic personality.

You let out a heavy breath and rub your temples. Now is not the time to be distracted by them. You have work to do.

Pulling out the files on your latest breeding project, you immerse yourself in the bloodlines and genetic potential. This right here is where you thrive–in the world of planned pairings and creating future champions, not being caught in the middle of some fierce competition between two champion horse jumpers.

—-

The next morning, you bring out a thick folder containing the breeding profile of the stallion that will arrive soon at the stables. You’re deep in concentration, your finger tracing over the names of past champions, when a soft knock at your office door startles you. Looking up, you see Marcus standing in the doorway.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he says after nervously clearing his throat. “I wanted to thank you again for your help with Daisy yesterday.”

You smile, gesturing for him to come in. “No need to thank me. I’m glad it was good news.”

He steps in, closing the door behind him. Your office suddenly feels much smaller. “Still… I appreciate it.”

A flush creeps up your neck at his praise. “Anytime,” your voice breaks as you respond.

His hand taps against his leg as he tries to find the right words. He takes a deep breath, his dark brown eyes meeting yours. “I was wondering if…” he starts, his low voice hesitant.

“Yes?” you gently prompt, your heart racing.

He takes a step closer to your desk, his thick finger brushing against the polished wood. “I was hoping that maybe we could—”

RING

The shrill ring of your work phone soars through the air, cutting through the thick tension of it. You jump, startled by its intrusion. Marcus’s face falls slightly as you reach for the receiver.

"Foxglove Downs, this is Sunny," you answer, trying to keep the frustration out of your voice.

“Sunny, it’s George,” your head groom says, his tone serious. “The new stallion just arrived. He’s a beaut, but he’s giving the handlers a bit of trouble.”

Your eyes widen with excitement and concern. “I’ll be right there.”

You hang up the phone and turn your attention back to Marcus. “The new stallion just got here, he’s being a bit difficult. I need to get down there to help George.”

Marcus nods. “I’ll come with you. You might need an extra set of hands.”

You smile at him, quickly gathering your things and hurrying out of the office. You jog across the grounds, Marcus following close behind. Approaching the stables, you can hear the commotion–sharp whinnying of an agitated horse screeches beyond the wooden walls.

Rounding the corner, you see him—a beautiful black stallion. He rears up, his front hooves pawing at the air as two handlers struggle to control him. His nostrils flare, eyes wild with fear and confusion.

“Easy there, big guy. It’s alright,” you soothe, gently stepping forward.

The horse’s ears prick forward at the sound of your voice. He shifts nervously from side to side. The handlers look relieved to see you.

"He's been like this since we got him off the trailer," one of them explains as he holds the lead rope.

You nod, keeping your eyes on the horse. "Let's give him some space," you say calmly. "Everyone back up slowly."

The stallion’s eyes dart between you and the now-retreating handlers–his breathing still rapid, his eyes still wild.

“That’s it,” you comfort, taking a small step forward. “No one’s going to hurt you, boy.”

“Be careful,” Marcus whispers behind you.

Nodding slightly, you continue your slow approach. The horse snorts, tossing his head. "You're safe here. Just relax.”

The stallion’s breathing begins to slow as you come close enough to touch him. You slowly extend your hand to him with your palm up, and he stretches his neck to sniff you.

"Hey there, handsome," you croon. "No one's going to hurt you. You're safe here." He bumps his nose against your palm and you smile, gently stroking his face. “That’s a good boy.”

Everyone relaxes as the horse calms under your care, his wild eyes softening as you gently take hold of his lead rope and coo in his ear.

“Let’s get you settled in, shall we?” you say softly to the horse. You turn to Marcus, his eyes watching you with something like awe and admiration. “Can you walk on his other side? Just in case?”

Marcus nods, moving to the horse’s left as you begin to lead him towards the stables. His hooves hit the ground in a calm cadence–no longer frantic, he follows you willingly. His earlier panic subsided under your gentle touch.

As you lead the horse into the stables, you can feel Marcus’s eyes on you.

“What happened out there—that was incredible,” he says. “I’ve never seen anyone calm a horse like that before.”

You smile and give the stallion a pat before closing the stall door. “Patience and understanding. He was scared, that’s all. They can sense when you’re nervous or afraid.”

You stroke the velvet of the stallion’s muzzle as you feed him a handful of oats. You turn to Marcus, curiosity getting the better of you. "So, what did you want to talk about earlier?

“Yes… it’s about Daisy. I, uh, was wondering if you’d like to help me rehab her? You knew so much about her condition, and I... I trust you.”

His nervousness and his request touch you, warmth spreading through your chest. “Of course. I’d be honored to help,” you say with a smile. “Daisy has so much potential.”

His face lights up, a rare full grin lighting his usually serious features. “Great. Does tomorrow morning work, if you’re free?”

“Absolutely,” you nod.

“So… it’s a date then?” His eyebrows rise. “I mean, it’s uh—”

You smile. “It’s a date.”

Tagging some friends who expressed interest: @sawymredfox, @ace-turned-confused, @almostfoxglove, @mothandpidgeon

@justagalwhowrites, @chippedowlmug, @itwasntimethatdidit40, @burntheedges, @magpiepills

Thank you @saradika-graphics for the dividers.

#pedro pascal #paul mescal #marcus acacius #lucius verus #marcus acacius fic #lucius verus fic #marcus acacius x you #lucius verus x you #lucius verus fan fic #gladiator 2 #gladiator ii #marcus acacius x reader #general marcus acacius #general acacius #marcus acacius fanfiction #marcus acacius x lucius verus #marcus acacius x lucius verus x reader #lucius verus x reader #lucius verus x female reader

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loliwrites · 1 year ago

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The One You Need | four

🎶 I spent most my life thinkin’ love was out of reach, so maybe just this once, you could be the one I need, if you let me be the one you need🎶

pairing: neighbor!joel miller x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni summary: when you move into town hellbent on keeping everyone at an arm’s length, your neighbor Joel finds his way into your life. warnings/tags: au, neighbor joel, age gap [reader is late 20s/early 30s, Joel is late 40s], hyper-independent reader, unannounced visitors, actual daddy issues, would-be suitor being forceful, perceived b&e, handgun [not used], SMUT, slight resistance kink, mild choking, fingering, oral [f receiving], slight degradation [one usage of whore] unprotected p in v sex, praise kink, aftercare, terms of endearment [sweetheart], THEY SHARE A BED, female reader, no physical description, protective!joel, soft!joel, dare i say ei!joel, no use of y/n. word count: 8.0k joel miller masterlist | part three a/n: we're doing the thing, y'all!

This was new for Joel. When you’d dodged him for nearly a month after he’d put your bed together, he just figured that was the action of a new neighbor from the west coast. He never figured you’d waltz your way back in with your faulty refrigerator. But this wasn’t that. This was post-sex when you all but fled his home. And for having told him one night stands weren’t your style, he thought you were doing a mighty fine job of making them your style.

It had been three days since that night and he hadn’t heard a peep. Not a check in, drive by, or walk through. It was as if your presence in the neighborhood had been a figment of his imagination. The only reason he knew it was real was because he was missing one of his shirts – the one you’d left in. And for three days hadn’t even done as much as slingshot it back to him or send by way of carrier pigeon. The amount of times in the past three days he thought he’d walk over and ask for, or demand, an explanation surpassed the amount of digits on his hands. But every time he talked himself out of it, telling himself all you needed was time.

But time only brought you one thing. A boy. In some automatic, foreign car. He rolled up the night of that third day and stepped out in a well-pressed black suit. Joel wasn’t spying, no… he just happened to mosey out to the porch and saw it all happening. He even witnessed you leave your house in a long red dress. Saw you descend the porch with this new boy, how he opened up the passenger door for you, and how you ducked into it. As that foreign car drove away, Joel turned and punched the post by his porch steps. The post was left unaffected. Joel’s hand, however, throbbed for the next three hours.

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

Staying out of Joel’s space had been intentional but the date had not been. This guy; he was a friend of a friend of a third cousin and he popped up out of nowhere. You hadn’t even really wanted to go out at all, let alone on some random date. But when you were shown a picture of the guy, he was… cute. He looked like the type of guy you normally let ruin your life, so ultimately you agreed. You hoped and prayed that Joel didn’t see you leave with this guy. And you spent the rest of the evening hoping and praying Joel would forgive you if he had. This wasn��t how you wanted it to go. The plan wasn’t to bed your neighbor and then leave him on the curb like trash. The plan wasn’t even to sleep with him, but given that you had, the rules to the game had changed so quickly.

And Chad… Brad… whatever the hell his name was, he was just… what you expected he’d be. He was attractive and he knew it, but he had nothing on Joel and he had no idea. He had blonde hair cut into a neat and tidy style but it had no story. Joel’s unkempt graying curls told you of his age and the unwillingness to burden his life with things as menial as primping himself. This guy had bright blue eyes, but they didn’t leave you searching their depths for the meaning of life like Joel’s had. Clean-shaven, baby-faced, uncalloused hands… There were any number of things that he was that Joel wasn’t, and staying present in the moment with him proved to be a challenge when you hadn’t even processed everything about Joel yet.

When the date finally ended, and you were escorted home, you peeked over at Joel’s house, wondering if you’d see him out on his porch, strumming his guitar. You hoped not. Please, on everything that is holy, don’t let him be out there. And when you couldn’t quite tell if he was or not, you decided to count your lucky stars and work with the assumption that benefited you most.

Chad… Brad… walked you up to your door and stood eerily close to you while your back was to him, unlocking it. Heat radiated off of him, and unlike the heat that came from Joel, you didn’t quite like how this one felt against you. Door unlocked but foregoing opening it just yet, you pivoted in a tight circle so as to not brush up against him as you faced him.

“I had a good time tonight, thank you,” you murmured, staring at his face to get a read on if he was going to lean in for a kiss you were going to have to dodge.

“Y’know, I didn’t get to see your place when I first got here,” he said as if that were a totally normal thing for him to have done. “Maybe you can give me a tour,” he reached around you and went for the handle.

You pushed against his arm with your hip before he could get his thumb on the latch, “maybe another time.”

“You’re gonna cut the night short?” he smirked and closed the practically imperceptible gap that was between you anyway.

Trying to back up, but running out of room as your back hit the door, “yeah, I’ve got an early morning.”

“What I want won’t take very long,” he leaned his hips forward, pressing them up against yours where it was oh so very clear he was sporting a semi. “C’mon, I bought you a fancy dinner, the least you could do is put out,” he still reached around you and pressed on the latch, nudging open your front door.

“Hey bud,”

Your heart dropped into your stomach. Panic. Or was it relief? And managed to escape from Brad’s (or was it Chad?) hips, tugging your door shut again as you side-stepped away. He turned around and found Joel, climbing the porch steps coolly.

“I think you should leave,” Joel said, resting his hands on his hips. He even smiled at his suggestion.

“Who are you?” Your date asked and looked back in your direction as if he’d be able to grab you again, but you’d already moved to the side.

Joel flicked his eyes at you as if inspecting to see if any hurt had been done, then looked back at the would-be suitor. “Doesn’t matter, I think it’s time you got outta here,”

“Dude, she was just inviting me in,”

“Dude, no she wasn’t. I don’t wanna have to call the cops, just get goin’,”

Your date chuckled incredulously. He turned to you with what looked like mild fury in his eyes, “your pussy’s not worth all this.”

You nodded in agreement, “it definitely is not.”

Joel waited until he was gone – watched him all the way to his car, and until it took off down the street, before he looked back at you. You’d already made it back to your front door and were backing into it, leaning against the frame.

“Thanks,”

He nodded once and turned. Then over his shoulder, “your pussy is worth it.”

You laughed and shook your head, “thanks!”

Back, safe and sound in your house, you locked the front door right away and carried on through the rooms, first into the kitchen to grab a glass of water, then back toward your bedroom. There was a brief thought about how Joel must’ve been outside when you’d arrived back home, and now there were new lucky stars to thank. But that thought was pushed aside when you glanced into the den as you passed it and it made your heart stop. It was the only room left to be unpacked. You’d eventually use it as an office, but right now it was just a handful of cardboard boxes and pictures that hadn’t been hung yet. But the mess wasn’t what gave you pause. It was that it was the room with your back door, and that door was currently wide open.

You ran back through the house, set your glass of water on something, and bolted back through the front door. “Joel! Joel!”

He was gathering his things from the porch, getting ready to go inside when he’d heard your panicked calls and immediately ran off his porch and toward you, meeting in the middle of the street.

“There’s– my door– open–” you took a deep breath just to fill your lungs with substantial air. “I think someone broke in,”

In the same instant, Joel reached behind his back and pulled a handgun out of his waistband. He side-stepped you and went toward your house, knowing you’d be right behind him.

“You had that on you the whole time?!” He didn’t answer. Just kept laser focus on your house. “Were you gonna shoot him?”

“Maybe,”

“Joel!”

Finally, he turned toward you, and even in the darkness you could tell the glare he shot you was something icy. “‘M’gonna need you to be real quiet when we go through your house, okay?” He waited for you to nod, obediently. “Stay right behind me. Hand in my pocket or finger in my belt loop, got it?”

You nodded again, and when he turned around you tucked your fingertips into the back pocket of his jeans. Even as he began to walk and approach your home, you stuck close, feet falling in rhythm with his to practically meld yourself to his body. He held the handgun poised in front of him in both hands, only lowering one to push your door open. With a clear line of vision inside, he paused and listened before carrying on inside. All of his movements, searching and clearing each room, were deliberate and methodical. He took his time. Reaching around your back to hold you close to him when he needed to turn or pivot, making sure you remained fully behind him at all times.

Without searching every room, he made his way back to your bedroom. No one was standing there, or hiding under the bed, and with the closet being the only other place to hide in the room, it was one of the easier one’s to search. The closet, he soon came to learn, wasn’t a viable hiding place as it was still only partially unpacked, stacks of luggage and boxes obscuring the floor. He shut your bedroom door and lifted your hand out of his pocket.

“I’m gonna search the rest of the house. Stay here and lock the door,”

“Joel, what if–”

He held up his hand and shook his head, “don’t worry about it. Lock the door. Don’t open it until I get back.”

That was it before he went back out. You ran up and locked it behind him, then quickly backed away, to your bed, nervous as all hell, and fighting every urge your body had to break out in a sob. It seemed to take forever. His absence made the worry inside you grow. If only he’d just come back. You’d say or do whatever he wanted to make things better again. To not have him shooting daggers your way. To just live as harmoniously as you needed to, to not make the neighborhood unbearable. You’d become a hermit and never see another man in all your life if that’s what it took. Not that that didn’t seem like a great option at this point.

Three gentle knocks on your door, “it’s me. You can open up,”

You ran to it and turned the knob, the lock clicked back on itself, and you came face to face with Joel once again, finding him completely unharmed. He tucked the handgun back into his waistband, “we had some strong winds earlier. Might’ve blown the back door open. Did you have it locked?”

Thinking back, you couldn’t be sure. You’d been in and out of it so frequently, throwing things in the trash that the likelihood of it having been left unsecure was relatively high. Shrugging, you looked up at him with timid eyes, hoping to find a little bit of comfort there. But they were still cold, thwarting off any advance you might be making for warmth.

“Well, the latch is busted now so you’ll have to get someone in here to fix it,”

“You can’t fix it?”

He tilted his head to the side. After what you’d put him through in the last few days, he was surprised you even asked that at all. You were the one who apparently didn’t want him around. That is, until you needed him for something. “You ignore me for three days after we sleep together and are only talking to me because you need me to do you a favor,”

“Joel,”

“I’m not some fuckin’ toy you get to play with whenever it’s convenient for you,”

“You scare me!”

“Why?!”

The argument had gotten loud and you hadn’t wanted it to. That was too much like home. You just wanted peace and quiet. But even if your surroundings could be, your brain never was. And it hadn’t been for the last three days. It had been loud and persistent. “Because what if this keeps going?! Whatever this is, it keeps going. We keep fucking. And you keep fixing things. And suddenly we’re staying the night at each other’s places sporadically. And then I’m meeting your daughter. And your brother. And you’re learning about all my fucked up stuff. And we keep doing this thing for however long. And then we give it a label. And we’re a couple. And it just keeps going.”

Having grown baffled at the road your brain had traveled down, Joel furrowed his eyebrows and studied you. He folded his arms over his chest, and only when you’d stopped talking did he offer any response, “so?”

All that and a one word answer? You could’ve slapped him silly. “What if we never break up?”

He laughed and rolled his eyes, “sweetheart, I don’t think that’d be an issue. You seem difficult,”

You shoved your hands against his chest as he continued to laugh. “I mean it! And then I’m like… dependent,” you nearly gagged at the word, “on you like some sad, servant housewife that’s just waiting in her window for her husband to get home so she can fix his meals and wash his clothes.”

He let out a breath that almost sounded like another laugh, “you’re fuckin’ insane, you know that?” Swinging at his chest again, he caught your wrists this time and held them against him tightly. “First of all, a wife’s not a servant. Second, I wouldn’t want you to cook for me anyways. Campbell’s soup in a can for the past week! And lastly, if we never broke up – which I assure you we would because you’re nutty – then you’d be the person I get to come home to and fall into your arms, and relax with! And I’d take the trash out to the bins, and pick the flowers in the yard for you, and pull your fuckin’ hair out of the shower drain when it clogs. And yeah, you might do my laundry every now and again, but we’d do it because we’d love each other. Your shit would be my shit, and there’s nothin’ I wouldn’t do for you.”

You stood, mouth agape, not blinking, staring up at Joel. He let go of your wrists and all but pushed them away, but you were back on him in a second. Hands replaced on his chest, this time with the utmost care, fingers curling into the fabric of his cotton t-shirt.

“I’m not trying to take your independence away. Not tryin’ to trap you. Hell, we don’t have to call this anything, just don’t ignore me.” He only stared, as if allowing himself to live in the feeling of your hands on him, pressing down on his chest but really into his soul. “If you want a man and not a boy, you got one, but it requires you to be a woman and not some scared, little girl.”

“I can be,” you assured, eyes dropping down to where your hands lay on his chest. Then once looking back into his eyes, your hands drifted further south, blazing a trail over the fabric of his shirt until you felt the rough denim of his jeans.

“Y’know,” he smirked almost devilishly, as if daring you to continue on, “you’re just a dog with a loud bark, but you got no bite.”

“Did you just call me a dog?” You grinned back, playfully squinting your eyes.

“No bite at all. You just fold and turn over on your back like a pup,”

“I got bite,”

Joel’s eyebrow quirked but his eyes didn’t waver from yours. Not even when you lowered a hand to his crotch and gave it a squeeze. He gave you no reaction, just tilted his head to the side as if he was waiting for you to amuse him.

And it got your mind spinning. What did bite look like? What did he think that meant? That you’d get on your knees and give him the sloppiest head this side of the Mississippi? Because to you, bite looked like everything you’d ever been to him. It looked like stubbornness or as he liked to call it brattiness. Last time, he’d fucked it out of you. A tried and true method. But if he wanted ‘bite’, he’d get it. Your way, on your terms.

So you swiftly undid his jeans, making quick work of the button and zipper as if they were only the slightest of inconveniences, and slipped your hand into his pants, giving him another generous and firm squeeze. By the looks of it, he was the one that nearly folded. But something else kept him preoccupied. It was then you remembered the handgun he’d tucked so haphazardly in his jeans. He reached around his back for it as you’d created a less secure space for it. And though it gave you pause as he pulled it out and glanced down at it to ensure the safety was on, it didn’t deter you completely from continuing. You removed your hand from his pants and pushed against his chest, sending you both in opposite directions. With the growing distance as you rounded to the side of your bed and a premature feeling that you’d somehow won, a smile passed over your lips. It was there and gone in a matter of milliseconds. No sooner than you’d felt it stretch across your face, Joel had closed the gap between you, lifted his free hand to your throat and with a firm hold on it, pushed you backwards. It wasn’t until you’d run out of real estate, pressed up against your closet door, that he stood over you with an almost playful glare like a cat who’d caught a mouse to toy with. He bent over and set the handgun down on the bedside table, then returned his complete focus to you. Fingers applied the softest of extra pressure to the sides of your neck and catching your gentle nod, he pressed them into a tighter squeeze.

Annoyance emanated from you – for you – that you liked it so much. That you enjoyed him having control over you, and effectively taking yours away. You hated that you wanted to give him control, when in every other aspect of life, you clung to it like a life raft in the ocean. Maybe thinking that that was all you had, there was no other fight or bite left, Joel’s fingers loosened from around your neck. And as though you hadn’t quite learned the lesson yet, thought you’d gained back some of the control, grunted and pushed on his chest again with all your might. It only sent him backward one step, and he retaliated with a searing grip on your wrist with one hand, and the return of his other hand to your neck for a cautious squeeze as his hips lowered to yours, effectively pinning you motionless.

“That was cute,”

You wriggled beneath him, trying to break free, but quickly found it pointless. His weight kept you where he wanted you and his hand on your neck was the decision-maker now. You let out a sigh of surrender, body fully collapsing and giving up beneath him.

Joel felt the fight leave your body and released your neck and wrist at the same time. With his hips still buried into yours, and now absently rubbing against you, he ducked his head to the side and planted a series of soft kisses to your neck where his fingers had just been.

“You just wanna be a good girl, don’tcha?” He could feel your pulse quicken against his lips on your neck. The only response he got came in the form of a needy whine and he set his hands on the closet door at either side of your head. “You don’t want to have to bite, huh?” He was almost goading you now, grinding his growing length against your waist. “Just looking for a bigger, badder dog to lead the way for you,”

You weren’t sure why, because except for in a sexual sense, it wasn’t necessarily true, but you nodded anyway. He could have control here. You liked not having it here if it meant you got to retain it in other aspects of life. At your acceptance, he laid a kiss on you. As good of a kiss as he’d ever given you; made sweeter by that fact that you’d made sure you’d gone without it for the last few days. Just as a headrush began, he pulled away, and it had you leaning forward as much as you could to try and get his lips back.

“I want you to get undressed and lay down on your back for me.” He thought you’d get going, but he was confronted with a pout instead. Smacking the side of your hip, “get going or I’ll put those lips to better use,”

“Is that a threat?” You smirked, reaching behind your back for the zipper on your dress.

“‘S’a promise,”

You couldn’t even really relish and appreciate his promise as at this point you remembered the trial in gymnastics it took to zip up your dress in the first place. It started far too low on your back and ended far too high to be accessible for a single human to do on their own, and at one point, you’d seriously considered just letting your date into your house without dinner just so you could stay naked and save the trouble. In hindsight – small blessings that you’d managed to get it zipped up.

“Help,” you murmured to Joel and spun around in the same moment, pressing your ass back against his crotch. Setting your hands on the closet door for more leverage to rut against him, you pressed harder, feeling the form of his growing length against your backside.

Joel didn’t waste too much time in helping you, opting to tug the zipper down in one quick fell swoop instead of taking his time with it. But as soon as your back was exposed to him, he snaked his arms around your torso and pressed one large, strong palm over your belly while the other found your clit. He cupped your sex and gently bit down on the back of your shoulder. Then as if he remembered what he’d previously been doing, he removed his hands from you and tapped your ass.

“G’on, lay down,”

You obeyed him and delicately let your dress fall from your shoulders and to the floor. He was pleased to see you already without a bra, and by the time you turned and laid back on your bed, Joel was at the latter part of pulling his t-shirt over his head and throwing it to the floor with your dress. He descended upon you as you’d moved up to rest your head on the pillows. But that wasn’t in his plans yet. He grabbed you by the ankle and pulled you down along the duvet until your legs hung over the end of the bed.

“Joel,” you gasped, finding yourself immediately repositioned. He hadn’t even bothered with a kiss to your lips or a check in, but opted for migrating straight to your breasts.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he kneaded your soft flesh in his hands and knelt to the floor at the end of your bed.

You heard his knees click on the way down, and truly wanted to say something about it this time – maybe that it was time for a couple knee replacements – but found yourself cut off again when he gripped onto the thin line of your g-string and began to pull it away from your center. “Joel, wait…”

And to his credit, being face to face with your wet slit and already sporting a hard on, his fingers stilled immediately. Quit their pursuit of ridding you from the underwear that was barely there anyway, and opted for bending in to kiss the inside of your thigh.

“I don’t think…” your voice trailed off as he sucked on your inner thigh, surely leaving a mark. Then steadfastly, kissed the skin again.

“I like you like this,” he murmured against your thigh before moving an inch higher and kissing that fresh skin. “Soft,”

A whimper died in your throat, only barely emitting soundwaves into the space between you. But your gaze remained locked on him for any sudden movements.

“I got you, you know that, right?” He kissed your opposite thigh when you nodded. “You can be soft, and small; I got you,” he smiled when you nodded again. “Can I take this off?” his fingers toyed with your g-string again, “can I taste you? And give you a couple brain-melting orgasms,”

“Where’s that horn,” you giggled and looked around the room as if searching for it, finding it bought you some time and distance from having to look directly in his soul-piercing eyes. But he grazed his teeth against your inner thigh again like a horse chomping at the bit, and that got you locked on him again. “You can try. A little bit,”

His hands got back to immediate work and carefully slid the miniscule fabric past the curve of your ass, down from your core, trying not to get lost in the way a bit of your arousal connected you to the fabric for a second longer until he pulled it further away, down your thighs, past your calves, and finally, off completely. He lifted your legs, set them atop his shoulders, positioning himself right in the center of where he yearned to be, and kissed your inner thigh again, this time higher than he’d previously been. His hands found their way to your hips, fingers digging into the flesh as he worked you into a more comfortable state before lips would meet your slit.

Nerves bubbling up to the surface, realizing you’d have a helluva time trying to dissociate from this, you reached down and clawed at the back of one of his hands. He flicked his eyes up to you in time to adjust, releasing your hip and allowing you to take his hand in yours. He moaned against your skin as he moved higher, now to where your leg and hip met, and laced his fingers with yours. You squeezed his hand and he took it as approval for the next step. Of laying a wet kiss on your clit. Thighs briefly squeezed closer to his head, releasing just in time as he licked a broad stripe from your entrance up to your clit.

A high-pitched groan fell past your lips and he shook his head against you when his mouth made contact with your clit again. He hummed too, sounding beyond elated with his current position. A noise you hadn’t ever quite heard with such enthusiasm. As if everyone in the past had been doing it cursorily instead of out of sheer desire.

Joel flicked his tongue over your clit repeatedly, then lowered his mouth to your entrance and rimmed the tight opening. The feeling of you squirming beneath him was all he needed by way of encouragement. He guided your hand up to his head, not completely satisfied until you released his hand and grabbed hold of his hair. Only then did he move his hand up over your belly and pressing his palm flat against it to hold you still, while his other hand moved from your hip and hooked around your thigh.

“J-Joel… please,” you breathed out, lifting your head to look down at him. But his eyes were closed, getting lost in his ministrations that were unending. You let your head drop back to the bed, “oh my god, please.”

In the past, there had been a worry about the amount of time it took, or how long a boy would be willing to go to get you there. Now, you weren’t quite sure what time was. Or how much had passed. Maybe it had been only a few minutes, maybe it had been fifteen. But your eyes snapped open and made contact with your bedroom ceiling because Joel pressed his middle and ring fingers against your soaked entrance. “Joel,” you whimpered again.

For the first time since he’d begun, he pulled his mouth off you, though his eyes remained on his fingers for the time being, “I got you, girl. Bein’ such a good girl for me,” as he knew it would, your body reacted to his praise. Relaxed. And he slowly urged his fingers inside you, gaze now flicking upward to watch your expression. Jaw slack and eyes rolling back until they shut, he evenly pulled his fingers in and out of you. “Look at you, sweetheart. Like my fingers inside you?”

You nodded emphatically, choking out a sound with a throat that had run dry.

“This pussy’s so good,” he leaned back in and licked your entrance where it met his fingers and continued up to your clit, “tastes so fuckin’ good.”

Thighs closed around his head, muscles twitching and spasming on their own volition. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop,”

He smiled against you, softly sucking your clit into his mouth and rolling his tongue flat against it. The mewls it drew from your lips sounded like the sweetest song he’d ever heard. You didn’t need to tell him not to stop. He’d keep doing whatever it was that got that sound to come out of you.

Joel moaned against you and it sent a vibration up through you that was the last thing you really needed to get you to your first orgasm of the night. It had been on a nonstop incline since he’d started, and the release was just there at the edge. You were sure Joel could tell. His fingers moved more hastily, his mouth and tongue not ceasing for even a second. But then – your brain entered the picture. Took center stage. Reminded you that some man was in between your legs, his mouth performing pure magic… and though your orgasm still neared, your brain fought for distance.

Your hand had been nestled snugly in his hair, holding him against you, begging him to stay put. But now you were using it to push back on his head. Your release was there, centimeters away, and you desperately pressed against his head, trying to pry him off of you. “Joel, no, please. Stop,”

He pulled his mouth away, though his fingers remained pumping inside of you, and with a growl, he leaned forward and moved his free hand up to your neck, getting a soft grip on either side of it. “Come on, right here,” he curled his fingers inside you, “come all over my fingers.”

But you only whined and writhed beneath him, now frustrated that you’d pushed away his mouth – the very thing that had been getting you to your climax.

“Got you moanin’ like a whore with my mouth… Push me away…” He shook his hand with his fingers deep inside you, rocking the entire lower half of your body, “c’mon, give it to me.”

The hold he had on your neck tightened and without his mouth, that had been your undoing. You came with a scream, back arching off the bed, chest spasming. Joel removed his fingers from you before you’d ridden out the entirety of your climax, and slapped his hand down on your clit at the tail end of it. You whined a little louder when that sent rippling shock waves through your body. Chest heaving, your sex, already red and swollen, Joel still got up from his knees and leaned over your body for a kiss. You could still taste a hint of yourself on his tongue and it made you want to ravage him more.

“Want you to fuck me,” you begged against his lips, pushing his underwear down past his waist. At some point while he was on his knees, he’d pushed his jeans down and had been able to step out of them when he stood back up. However it happened, you didn’t care, as long as it got him inside of you sooner.

Joel smiled against your lips and tapped your hip as he stood back up and rid himself of his underwear. “Turn over,” he ordered as he stroked himself, smearing the precum that leaked from his tip down along the length of his shaft.

Instantaneous obedience rushed over you and you clumsily turned over to your stomach and got up on your hands and knees. Joel’s hand returned to your skin soon thereafter. Fingers splayed over your ass cheek, digging into the supple flesh. It was the gentlest of the actions you’d feel over the next few minutes. Just enough time to relish in the expanse of his hand before he was using his other hand to guide his length to you, sliding his member over your wetness and then finally pushing himself inside of you.

The air evacuated your lungs with the feeling of him sinking into you. Relentlessly. Until he’d worked himself balls deep, nestled tight in your core. A throbbing overtook the lower half of your body and you allowed yourself to collapse, chest and head now resting on the bed while your backside remained up for Joel to use. And that he did. The thrusts you remembered from the first time together had felt deep, and were, no doubt. But they paled in comparison to the feeling of this, of his length actually splitting you in half, like an axe to a piece of wood. You released a long, lingering cry that changed into a breathy moan when his thrusts picked up, nothing but the sounds of your shared labored breaths and skin slapping together.

“Shit,” Joel groaned, gripping onto your hips with a bone-crushing hold. His hips faltered for just a second.

If you hadn’t been paying such rapt attention to the feeling of each inch inside you, you likely wouldn’t have noticed the stutter of his movement for the slightest of seconds. But it was impossible to ignore how he felt inside you. A fullness you sure was indescribable – at least indescribable by any sense that would do it justice. And a heaviness that was all-encompassing. It seemed to seep into every cell, weighing you down in the most delicious of ways. On shaky arms that seemed unlikely to be able to bear any weight, you pressed up from the bed to return to your hands and knees.

But no sooner than you’d risen, a hand left your hip and migrated to the center of your upper back, pushing you back down until your chest was flush with the mattress again. “Stay like this,” his jaw dropped open when you squeezed around his shaft, and he very nearly doubled over. “Just like this,”

“Joel, I can’t–”

As though he was a mind reader, he slid his hand down your back and enveloped it around your hips; the pads of his fingers making contact with your clit again. Your body went soft for him again, malleable to whatever course of action was to come next.

“Yes. God yes,” you pleaded like God was in the room with you in the form of Joel.

“Feel fuckin’ incredible,” he moaned and offered a particularly hard thrust. One that had caught you off guard, and your knees slipped, sending your stomach down to the bed as well.

He managed to follow you down, keeping himself sheathed deep inside you, and with hand still curled around you, kept you lifted enough for his fingers to continue massaging your clit in small, quick circles. Now with only your ass left above the rest of your body, he straddled your legs and scooted himself up closer. His thrusts now deep but short, you let out a shriek and curled your fists in your sheets.

“Takin’ this cock like a champ,” he bared his teeth into his bottom lip with a thrust that had his tip pressing against the opening to your cervix. You whimpered again, which only made him smile. “Yeah, you like that? Tell me about it,”

“Love it,” you panted. Legs pressed together, feeling fuller than ever with his hands on your clit, coil in your stomach was winding up. Tighter and tighter, and you knew it was only a matter of moments before you’d snap. “Fuckin’ love your cock, Joel,”

Just expressing the sentiment made you throb, and you knew he felt it. Knew it when he replaced the circling of your clit with a couple quick taps to it which made your body jerk. He smiled again and reset his hands on your hips, using them for all the leverage he needed for what would end up being the last of what you’d be able to take.

“Joel,” you cried and unwound a hand from the sheets to reach back for his hand on your hip. You curled it around two of his fingers, “I’m gonna…”

“Yeah, you are. Gonna be a good girl and come all over this cock?” He groaned after your body responded to his praise, “let me have it, sweetheart.”

You felt his hips falter again and thought if you could just hold out for a while longer, you’d both hit the peak together. So you stiffened your body, and tried to stave off the snapping of the spring inside you. Tried to blur out the pleasure for sheer focus. But all that did was send a shot of discomfort through you which settled in your chest and your body purged it with an animalistic growl.

Joel pressed his hands to the bed on either side of you and rested himself against your back, cautious to not lay all of his weight on you. He bit into your neck, “don’t wait for me. Go on, I’ll be right behind you,” his jaw slackened when your muscles clenched around him, sucking him in deeper and milking his length.

“Promise?” you squeaked out, the beginning of your orgasm gearing up deep in your stomach.

He smiled against your neck and nodded, “yeah, I promise. C’mon, sweetheart.”

It didn’t take too much more coaxing than that. One more thrust and you unraveled beneath him. Body trembling involuntarily with an endless string of moans filling the room. He grunted behind you and pulled out before you’d even finished. Stroked himself just a couple times before his own muscles flexed and released, releasing his come over your lower back and ass. You turned your head to the side when the feeling of his come hitting you finished, and smiled breathlessly at the sight of him giving his length a couple more tugs. He let go of his member and let it rest along your ass, taking deep breaths to steady himself.

Joel leaned down, his cock sliding to your lower back. He nestled his nose against your cheek and kissed your jaw, “you’re a good girl, huh?”

You grinned, cheeks growing hotter, and lifted your hands up behind you to tangle them in his hair.

“Yeah, you are,” he pecked your cheek once more then pushed himself off you. “I’ll be back, lemme clean you up.” He only waited for you to nod before he was off.

Left alone in your room, you leaned up on your elbows and looked around. It was pretty sparse and impersonal, like the rest of your house still. Nothing like Joel’s. In his house, everything screamed him. It was lived in, worn. The things that were out of place had been so for so long that their lack of a place became their place. He’d spent years making it a home while you were still just in a house. You wondered what it would take for your house to become that. Time? Maybe a dog? Or worst case scenario – a man?

Joel re-entered your room, towel in hand, and crawled back on the bed to you. He gently wiped away his spend until your skin was clean again. “Couldn’t find a washcloth,”

After he threw the towel to the floor by your bed, you rolled over onto your back, “don’t have ‘em. Got these,” you lifted her hands and waved them about.

He scrunched his nose and you swatted at his chest as he laid down beside you. With a hand holding yours against his chest, he maneuvered his other arm around you, behind your neck and shoulders, and pulled you into him. You rest your head down on his collarbone and focused on your fingers, running them along his tanned skin leaving invisible doodles in their wake. If you could just stay here like this, in the post-sex afterglow, you could almost convince yourself that the closeness wasn’t freaking you out. It was a lot so quickly. A far cry from your status quo.

“Can you stay tonight,” you asked in the same moment Joel kissed the top of your head. And because he didn’t answer right away, you felt the need to justify yourself. “If it wasn’t the wind and someone did bre–”

“I’ll stay,” he shook you reassuringly, “‘cause you’re nicer to cuddle up against than my old pillows,”

You wrapped your arm around him tighter, “this doesn’t mean anything.”

“Of course not.” For just a moment, he let his fingertips dance over the skin at your bare hip, smiling to himself at the goosebumps that erupted across it. Then he tapped your hip, “you should go to the bathroom,”

Ah, yes. Your delicate pH balance. Apparently it was on Joel’s mind more than it was on yours. You willed yourself out of bed and carried on into the bathroom, whereupon looking at yourself in the mirror, it was impossible to ignore the seemingly permanent smile on your face. You tried to get rid of it; tried to turn your lips into a straight line, but it wouldn’t leave. It was there. Etched deep and sure. And you knew it had very little to do with the fact that you were in your own home, a thousand miles away from family drama, and very much to do with the man waiting for you in bed.

If you from two months ago could see you now, you were sure there wouldn’t have been the slightest chance of recognition. While to most, and maybe even to Joel, a change had scarcely happened, you saw the leaps and bounds of apparent progress. Two months ago, you’d closed on the house and had swore off boys altogether. Like a form of housekeeping, you swept those ideas into a dustpan and deposited them in the garbage. Boys were superfluous. Intimate relationships were superfluous. A couple lousy boyfriends had taught you that, but they hadn’t been horribly awful people. They’d just been boys. Perhaps the worst of it was that your father had taught you that. Taught you that the man who was supposed to love you unconditionally, couldn’t, or just flat out didn’t. Taught you that romantic relationships looked like prison sentences. That a man would never be able to evolve and understand his own emotional range, let alone yours. And worst of all, that despite being obviously unhappy with everything, that he’d never leave, never let you leave; and instead hold you hostage in a relationship that everyone could see had failed, but he refused to admit for the sake of his own delicate ego.

You grinned, thinking about how the only delicate thing about you was your pH balance.

“Y’alright?” Joel asked as you re-entered your bedroom.

You figured you’d looked pretty spaced out upon returning. Not entirely sure how you’d made it back there from the bathroom. Still, you pressed a smile and crawled back into bed, immediately curling up into his side. Back in only his underwear, his skin against yours gave off tremendous heat and for the first time (perhaps in life), you really found yourself hoping that Joel was all the things he said he was, and that it wasn’t just performative.

“What’s this?” He held out a lone bolt in his fingers.

You tilted your head back from where it rested against his chest, “where’d you get that?”

“Side table,”

“You’re snooping in my stuff?”

“Yeah,” he nodded and jiggled the bolt in his hand again. “Where’d this come from?”

You shrugged and lowered your head, rubbing your cheek against his bare chest to get comfortable again. “Found it when I was Swifferin’ beneath my oven,”

The bolt stopped moving in Joel’s fingers and you peeked back up to find him stunned. “‘S’truly amazing your house hasn’t exploded yet,”

“What?” you whined, “it works and it’s not like I smell gas. It was probably an extra part,”

“Since when do ovens come with parts you don’t need?”

“Joel,” you whined again and wrapped your arm around his belly, holding him close.

He leaned over and set the bolt back down on the side table. He’d fix that tomorrow. Along with your back door. And maybe give everything else in your house a once over to make sure you wouldn’t combust.

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

Sun rays filtered in between the slits in your blinds and you cursed yourself (yet again) for not having invested in black out curtains. One of these days you would and maybe then you’d get a restful night of sleep. With a groan and an aching in your hips, you turned onto your back and looked to the side where Joel was still asleep, his back to you. Generally, sharing a bed with someone resulted in you having the worst night of sleep known to man. It was as if your brain could never really settle knowing someone was beside you. And while you had slept some last night, you couldn’t wait for Joel to not be in your bed the following night.

After having slid out of bed, successful in not rousing him, you padded down the hallway to the kitchen and squinted out the front window where the neighborhood was slowly coming to life. A couple kids were riding their bikes in the street. Mr. Cole was hobbling down his driveway to pick up the newspaper. Your routine was coffee first and after a night like last, where your hips weren’t the only thing sore, but your thighs and core, too, coffee was supremely necessary.

The slowness of the act was almost meditative. You could turn off your brain. Grab the filter, scoop the coffee grounds, add the water, hit the button. At least on a normal day. What you didn’t know at that moment, but came to know halfway pouring the water, today was not to be a normal day. Not at all. Because a knock on your front door had you spilling some of the water down the side of the machine instead of within the well.

You turned, confused, and then were riled into action when the knock happened again, this time more insistent. Perhaps one day you’d learn to look through the window first, or install a door with a peephole, but on this day, you simply tugged the front door open and felt your heart drop into your stomach.

“Mom? Dad?”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #tlou fic #tlou fanfiction #joel miller angst #joel miller au #joel miller fluff #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #ppcu #ppcu fanfiction

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rafedaddy01 · 2 months ago

Note

Part 2 for stalker

Y/n has spend the last few days just wanting to feel rafes thick length inside of her again

So a few days later his wife is taking longer than usual at work

Y/n thinks he is asleep

But he is wakes up when she pulls his d out of his boxershorts

but he thinks y/n is his wife

So hes just like :"You really missed me that much at work"

And he starts ramming inside of her

Y/n begging him to go harder to spank her

Which is weird to rafe cause his wife doesnt like it rough normaly but he does

Still he is c mming inside of her and not pulling out

Him falling asleep d still inside of her

Stalker - part 2

Summary: you are 18 years old and obsessed with Rafe Cameron - so you stalk him.

Pairing: 18yr!reader x Older!Rafe

18+, no minors

Warnings: stalking, dark content, smut, sorta noncon, (reader forces herself on rafe but he thinks it’s his wife), unprotected sex, p in v

What you read is up to you and you only you are responsible for what you come across and what you decide to keep reading despite the warnings. Please be respectful to my writing and all the other writes you come across in this community thank you

You didn’t think it would happen again. You didn’t plan on it happening again. But when you couldn’t sleep, dreaming of rafe fucking you, you knew you needed it to happen again.

So that’s how you found yourself standing inside his room again, peering over his body like some kind of psycho.

Watching him breathe as he slept.

You noticed his wife wasn’t here yet. Probably at work, or at least on her way home from work.

And by your stalking tendencies, you memorized the route she takes home from work, it’s usually the scenic one, which takes hers about 30-40 minutes to get home. So you had plenty of time.

You stripped fully naked and climbed on top of him.

Pulling his boxers down, but your breath hitched when two strong hands wrap around your wrists.

Your heart picks up pace, your breath shakes as you muster the courage to look up and accept your defeat.

“Mmm, hi honey. Missed me?” Your eyebrows scrunch in confusion. Was this some sort of sick game?

“Was work stressful?” Rafes voice is groggy and you notice his eyes aren’t fully opened yet, he’s still half asleep.

“Mmh” you mumble, playing along. You continued pushing his boxers down until he was fully erect and presenting himself to you. “Well go on then..” Rafe grumbled out with a satisfied smirk on his face.

You didn’t have to be told twice. Your sick fantasy was playing out perfectly. If rafe thought you were his wife then you’d damn sure play the part.

You gripped his base and stuffed him inside you. Both groaning at the feeling. “Shit baby, your really wound up. So tight-“ he grits, “must be really stressed” his fingers run up and down your hips, oddly soothing.

“Let me take care of everything” he flips you onto your back. The room is dark enough to where he can’t make out your face, so you let him maneuver you onto your back and he spreads your legs and shoves himself back inside you.

You immediately clench, gasping as his tip probes that sweet spot inside you.

His thrusts are slow, paced, not to fast and you crave more. “H-harder” you squeak out, “you sure?” He asks confused. “Yes! Please” you moan as you claw at his back.

He moves his hips faster. Rutting into you, balls slapping against your ass, “like this?” He pants against your ear. “Yes yes, oh god yes!” You moan out louder.

Rafes confused, but he doesn’t question it. He’s been asking his wife for months to try something a little tougher in the bed room, but she was never interested, so he’s just happy that ‘she’ finally agreed.

“C-can you… can you spank me, please” you mutter.

“Can i- what was that?” He laughs a little, thinking he didn’t hear correctly.

“I want you to spank me” you say it louder, screaming almost, adding a please at the end.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you, baby. But I like this side of you” he flips you over, pulling your hips up and thrusting back in.

His palm snaps forward, landing on your ass and making you jolt forward as you grip the sheets. “Again” you moan into the bed.

He slaps you again, and again. Thrusting into you harder and faster.

You’re so wet, the sound is echoing in the room and the sheets are soaking.

“Honey, I’m not gonna l-last much l-longer” Rafe moans behind you.

“Cum inside me” you moan out as. this angle lets him get deeper.

His tip is in your guts as you clench around him and feel the milky warmth of him filling you up.

He falls down behind you, his dick still deep inside you.

“I love you” he kissed your temple, “thank you for that, it was amazing” he lays back down and it’s not too long before you hear his soft snores and the sound of a car door closing outside. Shit.

Taglist

@f4ll-for-you @rafeysworldim19 @baby19sthings @sevenwivesofrafecameron @rxfecameronsslut @findapenny @r1vrsefx @spencerreidsrealgf @rafescokenostril @thievin-stealing @rafemotherfuckingcameron @dilvcv @starkeysheart @wearemadeofstardust0 @theoraekenslover @mema10

#rafe cameron #outer banks #drew starkey #dark rafe cameron #drewstarkey smut #smut #outerbanks #rafecameron #drewstarkey #fanfic

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h0neybane · 1 month ago

Text

ੈ✩‧₊˚ TWST fankid ask game

༊*·˚ hii!! here's the ask game for ur twst fankids! feel free to reblog this to get people to send these questions. these are also open for me so feel free to send these questions my way!! also i tried to make this cute did i succeed

1. 💌 ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ What was their first word?

2. 🍼 ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ What was their parent's reaction to holding them for the first time?

3. 🐣 ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Did they ever have any babysitters? Who was the babysitter?

4. 🎒 ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ How were they on their first day of school?

5. 🍳 ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Favorite food as a child? Do they still like it?

6. 💗 ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Do they share any expressions with their parent?

7. 💢 ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ What did they get in trouble for the most as a child?

8. 🎮 ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Favorite game as a child? Did they play it with anyone?

9. 🚀 ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ What did they want to grow up to become? Has that changed in any way?

10. 🚶 ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ When and where did they take their first steps? (swims??? if a mer??? or i guess you technically could still do first steps)

11. 🌍 ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ If one of the parents is a Yuu, has your fankid ever been back to their home-world? How connected to it are they?

12. 🧸 ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Did they have any stuffed animals as a kid? What was their favorite? Do they still have it?

13. ⏳ ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ What's their favorite way to spend time with their family?

14. 💕 ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Did they have any childhood friends? Who were they, and are they still close?

15. ✌️⋆.ೃ࿔*:･If they have siblings, how close are they with them? If they're an only child, did they ever want siblings?

16. 👁️⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Do they have any unique physical traits? (moles/freckles, hitchhikers thumb, dimples, etc)

17. 🏡⋆.ೃ࿔*:･What does their room look like at home? What does it look like in their dorm?

18. 🐈‍⬛⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Did they have any pets growing up?

19. 💔⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Have they ever had to deal with loss as a child? How did/would they deal with it?

20. 💘⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Who was their first crush?

21. 📺⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Did they have any favorite shows as a child?

22. 📚 ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Do they like to read? What is their favorite book or genre?

23. 😳⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ What's their guilty pleasure?

24. 👠⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ What's their sense of fashion? Has it changed over time?

25. 🎻⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Did they take any afterschool lessons as a kid? (music, art, karate, sport, etc)?

26. ⏲️ ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ If your fankids were transported back in time to the present of TWST, what would be their parents reaction? (basically, your ship meets their future children)

27. 👨‍👩‍👧‍👦 ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ How does your ship parent your fankids? Is there anything that your fankids don't like about it?

28. 🎶 ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ What songs did they listen to as a child? Do they still like those songs?

29. 🏥 ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ How were they at their first visit to the doctor?

30. 🎁 ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ What gifts did they want on their birthdays growing up?

31. 🩷 ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ How does your ship show affection to your fankids?

32. 🏪 ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Did your fankids ever get lost in a store? What was their reaction? What was their parents reaction?

33. 💅 ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Do they share any mannerisms or habits with their parents? (bouncing their leg when nervous, playing with hair, etc)

34. 🕷️ ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Do they have any fears or phobias? Is there a reason for them?

35. 👄 ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ What physical traits did they inherit from their parents? Did any genes skip a generation and end up on your fankid?

36. 👩 ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Do they have a favorite parent? Favorite grandparent? Favorite aunt or uncle? Favorite cousin or sibling?

37. ☹️ ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ What's something they SUCK at doing?

38. 👋 ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ How easily can they make friends?

39. 👛 ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Are there any trinkets or objects in their room with sentimental value? (For example, a purse that was a gift from their favorite cousin)

40. 👀 ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ How aware of their surroundings are they? Do they flinch at the smallest noise, or do they sleep through a hurricane?

41. 😂 ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ What does their laugh sound like? Is it similar to one of their parents?

42. 🏢 ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ If they attend NRC, what dorm would they prefer to be in if not their current dorm? If not attending NRC, but another school, do they like their school? Or do they want to transfer to another?

43. 🏰 ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Speaking of NRC dorms, are they in the same dorm as their parent?

44. 💄 ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Do they like to wear makeup? What styles or products do they prefer to use?

45. 🛁 ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ What selfcare products do they like to use?

46. 🍭 ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ What's their favorite flavor? (cherry, chocolate, matcha, etc)

47. ❄️ ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ How resistant are they to the cold?

48. 🔥 ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ How resistant are they to the heat?

49. 🩸 ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ What was their first injury? What was their reaction? What was their parents reaction?

50. 🌡️ ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ When was the first time they got sick? What was their reaction? How did their parents take care of them?

going to stop here and continue later! will edit, reblog and retag when it happens 🌟 edit 10/21: UPDATED WITH 25 MORE QUESTIONS! some are more abt the parents then the kids but shhh....

tags (im just gonna do all my moots with fankids, SORRY IF I ACCIDENTALLY MISS ANYONE):

@blood-red-bumblebee @taruruchi @skibidibabygirl @oya-oya-okay @gimmeurmoneyagh

@screamintoad @angelwishess @twtysevapr @babyghoul138 @beneathsakurashade

@moonyasnow @cheerleaderman @theolivetree123 @viperbunnies

#dividers by cafekitsune #twst #twisted wonderland #twst oc #twst fankids #twst fankid #ask game #oc ask game #twst ask game #twst fankid askgame #obuya kingscholar #maya kingscholar #evleo fankids

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lttl3babybug · 8 months ago

Note

Gently squeezing your face, hello honey!! (If your not okay with nicknames let me know!!)

Could I ask forrrr hm, either caregiver Stolas or caregiver Asmodeus ( >w<) with a baby regressor? Preferably padded but no force!! I hope you have a lovely day my dearest ~

HIII, I absolutely adore nicknames :3 but of course! I just posted some cg Stolas so I can give you Cg!Ozzie!! (Apologies if this is nonsensical I wrote it at 6am with an hour and 40 minutes of sleep maximum)

Cg!Asmodeus & Baby!Regressor!Reader headcanons!

🩵Ozzie is just the sweetest, we’ve seem how gentle he is with fizz so we know he’s an absolutely amazing cg :(

🩵Ozzie is a big guy, like he’s huge. He’s gonna pick you up at every opportunity he can

🩵Due to his height he likes to remind you just how little you are

“Aw look at you…just a tiny baby aren’t you, hm? Nothing but an itty bitty baby. Look at how tiny you are compared to me!”

🩵Good Gods above he will spoil you to the ends of hell and back

🩵You have more paci’s than you can count, he just sees them and gets them for you because he loves surprising you

🩵Seeing how excited you get when when he says he has a surprise for you and his wide your eyes go.

🩵Now if you’re a nonverbal baby you needn’t Fret. Ozzie is a master at deciphering your babbles

🩵Making grabby hands at something you want or someone who’s attention you crave? He’s on it, giving you whatever you want (if it’s appropriate that is) and dragging over whatever one of his assistants has caught your fancy today

🩵Ozzie has a whole room dedicated to your safe space, it’s one of the only places he feels it’s okay to leave you unsupervised

🩵Being the sin of lust of course his place isn’t exactly…child appropriate. But this room is full of nothing but toys, stuffies, baby books, blankets, the whole shebang

🩵Course he loves playing with you too, big fan of playing the damsel in distress for you to rescue

🩵But he also loves reading to you and doing your baby puzzles with you!

🩵Watching your face light up with joy as you solve the jigsaw in front of you and signal for his attention by whiney or making general babble noises in his direction

🩵If you’re feeling bratty or generally stubborn he tends to talk through things before sending you to time out, making sure you’re calm and understand why you’re being put in that position.

🩵Now Ozzie with a padded regressor is a whole different thing

🩵This was something he discussed with you while big, he’d noticed you’d started slipping further than usual (course he wasn’t mad about that at all) and that lead to accidents and tears

🩵He made 1000% sure that you were comfortable with this happening, with him changing you, with him seeing you like that in such a vulnerable state

🩵And even after having you give him both verbal and written consent that it was okay he still asks you before he changes you. Just incase

“Are you okay with me taking this off you sweetheart? I don’t want you getting a rash down there baby…it’s okay if not. I’m sure you’re smart enough to change yourself”

🩵Placing you on the changing table and distracting you the whole time by holding a stuffie above you or asking you about your favourite book or game

🩵He makes sure you’re keeping clean down there at all times, checking you every 30 minutes- an hour

🩵You have the comfiest pull ups or dips you could ever imagine, so pretty too!

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daisymbin · 8 days ago

Text

prompt list for requests!!!

check out my masterlist!

please allow me some time to write them though I promise to get them out as fast as I can within my capabilities! word count will vary for each prompt!

prompt list includes: fluff, suggestive, second chance romance & angst

+ please let me know which genre + no.

+ for angst, please indicate if you want a happy ending or not, or if you would like for me to decide!

full prompt list under cut! check here for all completed req works: #daisymbin: reqs

fluff ⤵️

1. "you look good in my clothes/hoodie/sweater."

2. "you looked cold, so i brought you a blanket/jacket/sweater."

3. "do you wanna come over and watch that movie we always talk about?"

4. "stop stealing my food."

5. "you can stay over if you want."

6. "your hands are freezing—here, take mine."

7. "your laugh is my favorite sound."

8. "why are you hiding behind the door?"

9. "i didn’t mean to fall asleep on your couch."

10. "do you ever think about us like… as more than friends?"

11. "you remembered my favorite drink?"

12. "you can’t fall asleep without your goodnight hug, huh?"

13. "i kept this photo of us—don’t laugh."

14. "oh, so now we’re holding hands?"

15. "you’re my favorite person, you know that?"

16. "how do you look good even in sweatpants?"

17. "you forgot your umbrella, so i came to walk you home."

18. "wait, don’t fall asleep yet."

19. "you can borrow my jacket, but don’t lose it, okay?"

20. "you can braid my hair if you want."

21. "we should bake something together—it’ll be a disaster, but fun."

22. "do you think you could ever love me back?"

23. "you stayed up all night taking care of me?"

24. "you’re the only person who knows how to make me smile like this."

25. "your playlist is basically my soundtrack at this point."

26. "are you… blushing? because of me?"

27. "did you plan this whole day just to make me happy?"

28. "you’ve been carrying that photo of us in your wallet this whole time?"

29. "you’ll always have me, no matter what."

30. "is that my shirt you’re wearing?"

31. "you’re like my personal sunshine."

32. "hold my hand—just until we get there, okay?"

33. "you fell asleep on my shoulder again."

34. "you make my world feel a little brighter."

35. "i know you hate hugs, but i’m giving you one anyway."

36. "i couldn’t imagine my life without you in it."

37. "you brought me flowers? just because?"

38. "stop looking at me like that—it’s unfair."

39. "you talk about me in your sleep, you know?"

40. "i can’t believe you remembered my favorite ice cream flavor."

41. "you’re staring again—what’s on your mind?"

42. "sometimes, i wish time could just freeze when i’m with you."

43. "you’re my home, more than anywhere else."

44. "let’s stay up all night talking, just like we used to."

45. "you really trust me with your secrets, huh?"

46. "you doodled hearts in my notebook again."

47. "did you really save the last piece of cake for me?"

48. "you’re the best part of my day."

49. "what would i do without you?"

50. "you’re my person—always have been, always will be."

suggestive ⤵️

1. "if you keep looking at me like that, i might kiss you."

2. "are you trying to distract me on purpose?"

3. "you’re lucky you’re cute, or i’d be mad right now."

4. "you’re playing a dangerous game, sweetheart."

5. "is that your way of asking me to stay the night?"

6. "you can’t keep teasing me like this."

7. "come closer, i won’t bite—unless you want me to."

8. "you don’t have to pretend to be innocent with me."

9. "your hands feel good on my skin."

10. "you’re thinking about me, aren’t you?"

11. "that’s not what you were saying last night."

12. "stop biting your lip like that, it’s distracting."

13. "don’t act like you don’t know what you’re doing to me."

14. "you’ve been staring at my lips for the past five minutes."

15. "if you keep talking like that, i won’t be able to hold back."

16. "do you have any idea what you do to me?"

17. "come here and let me take care of you."

18. "why don’t we skip the movie and go straight to the good part?"

19. "you’re going to be the death of me, i swear."

20. "you’re not as innocent as you look, are you?"

21. "do you want me to kiss it better?"

22. "your place or mine?"

23. "i didn’t say stop."

24. "you know exactly what you’re doing, don’t you?"

25. "do you trust me?"

26. "if you don’t stop teasing me, i might have to do something about it."

27. "come here, let me help you out of that."

28. "you’ve been on my mind all day."

29. "don’t make promises you can’t keep."

30. "you’re too tempting for your own good."

31. "what are you doing in my bed?"

32. "i think we’d both be more comfortable if you took that off."

33. "you’re cute when you’re flustered."

34. "what if i said i wanted more than just a kiss?"

35. "you have no idea how much i want you right now."

36. "is that a dare?"

37. "you look so good like this."

38. "tell me what you want, and i’ll make it happen."

39. "you’re mine, remember that."

40. "don’t look at me like that unless you mean it."

41. "you’re not as shy as you pretend to be."

42. "i love it when you get all worked up."

43. "keep talking like that and see what happens."

44. "you drive me crazy, you know that?"

45. "you have no idea what you’re doing to me right now."

46. "i’m not sure i can behave if you keep looking at me like that."

47. "let me show you how much i missed you."

48. "is it bad that i like seeing you all flustered?"

49. "you’re the best kind of distraction."

50. "you’re irresistible, and it’s so unfair."

second chance romance ⤵️

1. "do you ever think about what we could’ve been?"

2. "i never stopped loving you."

3. "if i could go back in time, i’d do everything differently."

4. "do you think we could try again?"

5. "i still keep your picture in my wallet."

6. "this place reminds me of us."

7. "do you ever miss me?"

8. "you’re the one that got away."

9. "i can’t stop thinking about what we lost."

10. "i wasn’t ready to let you go."

11. "you always had a piece of my heart."

12. "every song reminds me of you."

13. "it’s been years, and you still feel like home."

14. "i hate that i lost you."

15. "you deserved someone better than me."

16. "you still wear the necklace i gave you?"

17. "i saw you in my dream last night."

18. "we were so close to forever."

19. "do you think we could ever be us again?"

20. "seeing you again feels like a second chance."

21. "i thought i was over you, but then i saw you smile."

22. "you were my first love—you still are."

23. "i thought i’d never see you again."

24. "every road i take somehow leads back to you."

25. "do you remember the promises we made?"

26. "it’s always been you."

27. "i thought i was okay until i saw you with someone else."

28. "why did you have to come back into my life now?"

29. "i wrote you so many letters i never sent."

30. "you’re the only person who ever truly knew me."

31. "i don’t think i ever really moved on."

32. "i kept the gift you gave me."

33. "can we start over?"

34. "it still hurts, seeing you."

35. "i thought leaving was the right choice, but now i’m not so sure."

36. "you’re still the first person i think of when i hear good news."

37. "i was so stupid to let you go."

38. "do you think we could fix what’s broken?"

39. "we ended too soon."

40. "i never wanted anyone else—it was always you."

41. "you’re the reason i came back."

42. "i miss the way you used to look at me."

43. "it feels like i’ve been waiting for you forever."

44. "you used to love me."

45. "i wanted to call, but i didn’t think you’d pick up."

46. "i still dream about you."

47. "do you regret what we had?"

48. "you taught me what love is, and no one else has come close."

49. "it’s not too late for us, is it?"

50. "i still believe we were meant to be."

angst ⤵️

1. "i saw you with them—don’t deny it."

2. "you promised you wouldn’t hurt me."

3. "why didn’t you just tell me?"

4. "i thought i meant something to you."

5. "is that all i am to you?"

6. "you chose them over me."

7. "i don’t know if i can forgive you."

8. "was anything real between us?"

9. "i can’t keep pretending i’m okay."

10. "you don’t trust me, do you?"

11. "do you even love me?"

12. "did you even think about how i would feel?"

13. "don’t act like you care."

14. "you never really loved me, did you?"

15. "i’m not enough for you."

16. "do you even know how much you hurt me?"

17. "please don’t go."

18. "i thought you were different."

19. "it’s too late to fix this."

20. "i wish i could hate you."

21. "you don’t get to walk back into my life like this."

22. "i can’t lose you again."

23. "you broke me."

24. "i waited for you, but you never came."

25. "how could you keep this from me?"

26. "i wish we’d never met."

27. "this isn’t how it was supposed to end."

28. "you always put them first."

29. "stop pretending you care."

30. "i saw you with them—it’s over."

31. "don’t lie to me."

32. "you said you’d never leave."

33. "what about us?"

34. "you made me believe in us."

35. "why am i never enough?"

36. "you could’ve told me."

37. "don’t walk away from me."

38. "it wasn’t supposed to hurt like this."

39. "why are you pushing me away?"

40. "i thought we were forever."

41. "did you ever really love me?"

42. "please don’t make me choose."

43. "how could you think i didn’t care?"

44. "i loved you with everything i had."

45. "you were my everything."

46. "we can’t keep doing this."

47. "saying you're sorry isn’t enough this time."

48. "you knew this would destroy me."

49. "you’re too late."

50. "i hope they’re worth it."

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the-froschamethyst4 · 1 year ago

Text

He’s just a bit older

𖤐Pairing: Soap x Younger F! Reader

𖤐Pronouns: She/Her

𖤐Warnings: smut, older Soap young Y/n, age gap, P in V, eating out, language, dads' best friend

AN: If you’re not comfortable with this age gap type of stuff this isn’t probably for you. By age gap I mean early 20 year old Y/n and early 40s Soap

Y/n is Price’s daughter and she’s had a bit of a crush on her dads best friend, John Soap MacTavish

But Price is caught up at work that he forgot him and Soap are meeting up to watch the soccer match (football for the Europeans)

Could Soap and Y/n get away with fucking each other without Price ever knowing

——————

———————

“Y/N! I’m going to work!” Price yells at his daughter.

“OKAY!” She yells back. She had gotten out of the shower and was going to hang out with her boyfriend Hunter.

It was their 10-month anniversary, and she was very excited to hang out with him. Sure, they hang out almost every day, but she was just excited for today.

She brushed her teeth and blow dried her hair, she even spread her favorite lotion on her skin to smell good for Hunter. She even put on some light make up on as well.

Y/n grabbed a bright pink tank top and white tennis skirt. Hunter and Y/n were going to see the Barbie Movie together and she was very excited.

Y/n grabbed her purse and went downstairs and was going to wait for Hunter to come and get her for the movie. She played on her phone and looked at the time, sure she got ready a bit early at least she'll be ready.

As she took a couple of photos of her outfit and captioned them with 'Date Night with @/h.hunt14' she smiled seeing the likes and comments she was getting from her friends.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

"PRICE!" She looked up from her phone and looked at the front door hearing a thick Scottish accent.

"Soap?" She asked as she got up and opened the door.

"Hey, Y/n. Where's your dad?" He asks with a case of beer in his hands.

"Umm work? Why are you here?" She leaned on the doorframe, crossing her arms and looking at her father's best friend.

"He invited me to watch the football game."

"Well again, he's not home," she mumbled.

"Yeah, I see that. So, could I still come in? Your dad already knows I'm supposed to be here."

"I guess," Y/n let him inside and he placed the case of beer of the kitchen counter.

"Where are you going?" He asks, cracking open a beer.

"To the movies. Hunter and I are going to see the Barbie Movie together for our 10-month anniversary." She smiles when she brings up Hunter and Soap smiled hearing that she found someone to be with.

"That's cool," he smiles before taking a sip of his drink.

"I'm going to text my dad and see if he knew you were supposed to come this early."

"Yeah," he agrees.

Y/n: *Dad, Soap is here. Is he supposed to be here this early?*

Price: *Ah shit, I told him to come early, I didn't expect him this early, tell him I'll be home around 2-3*

Y/n: *K*

"My dad said, he'll be home around two or three. Just make yourself comfortable," she says as she went back to the couch. "I'll be leaving around one for the movies." She yells him.

"Okay, yeah sure," Soap said as he watched Y/n head back to the couch. He looked at her skirt seeing it raise up went she plopped down on the black couch.

He saw her white panties and smirked just a little bit but soon wiped it away. He remembered this isn't right, this is his best friends only daughter.

---------

Some time has passed, and Y/n was now waiting on her boyfriend to show up. She was texting him asking him where he was and all but no answer.

She ran her hand through her hair and let out a soft sign, Soap had turned on the TV to watch a pre-game before the actual game. He looked at Y/n seeing her being distressed.

"What's wrong?" He asked.

"He's not answering the movie starts in a like 30 minutes..." she said.

"Did you try calling him?"

"I didn't want to bother you though."

"It's fine, go ahead," he says as Y/n went upstairs and called Hunter.

But it went straight to voicemail. "Hey, Hunter, are you coming to get me, or did you forget about me?" She kind of laughs at the 'forgetting' part. "Just text me or call me back and let know what's going on."

She walks back downstairs sitting next to Soap again. She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back ignoring her phone now. Maybe he's on his way and can't answer her?

"Everything okay?" He asks.

"I don't know," she said as she looked at Soap. "If you think something is going on with your partner...would you keep texting them or would you ignore them?"

"What do you mean? Are you expecting him of something?" He asks, placing his beer on the table in front of them.

"No, but...he's just been...distant I guess."

"How so?"

"Like now, he's ignoring me, sometimes will just flat out not talk to me for a long period of time, I have to start conversations, I have to make plans and invite him to join-LIKE NOW I asked we should see the Barbie movie, he said 'cool that's fine' like he wasn't really interested." Her eyes looked red and glossy; she seemed like she was about to cry.

"Hey, hey, it's okay...the best thing to do is get rid of the problem...if it was me...I'd break up with them, but you love him, I know you do. I can see it in your eyes that you love him. But that's up to you," he said.

The tension between them was hot now because they understood each other. Was it sexual? No, it couldn't be. Price would kill both of them if he caught them.

Soap looked down at Y/n's lips seeing lip gloss on them, her lips were plump and looked so soft it he kissed them. He bit the corner of his bottom lip as Y/n played with her fingers. It was like she was thinking about something, and she was.

She looked down at his crotch seeing his bulge in his pants. She gulped and looked up at Soap.

Y/n didn't hesitate, she crawled on top of Soap's lap. Soap put his hands up he didn't know what to do with them. She just smiles and moves them to her waist.

She then placed her arms around his neck and ran her fingers through his hair.

"Wow...your fingers...they...they are like magic, this is so calming," he chuckles.

Y/n giggles too. "I mean...I don't know? I do it to myself sometimes, it feels so good."

"Yeah," he coos, he looked up at her. His hands moved from her waist down to her butt, she moans slightly. He leans forward and kissed her neck, earning another moan from her.

He pushes up the bottom of her white skirt and grabbed at her soft bare ass cheeks. His lips felt so good on her collarbone and neck.

"F-Fuck-" she moans.

Soap then snapped back into reality. Soap looked up at Y/n staring into her eyes. "W-we shouldn't b-be doing this," he stutters a bit.

"My dad won't know...and neither will Hunter. This will between you and I, Soap."

"No, no, we can't," he moved his hands back to her waist trying to push her off his lap.

"Fine..." she got off his lap. She stood at the doorway before walking to her bedroom, but she turned back to Soap, she brought her leg up and flashed her panties to Soap.

"Don't-Don't do that, Y/n."

"Oh, come on, Soap. You know you want it," she says as she began to walk away, and Soap got up and followed her to her bedroom.

Y/n sat on the edge of her bed, she crossed her legs and looked at Soap with a smirk on her face. She uncrossed her legs, and she lifted up her skirt again exposing the front of the panties.

They were white, lace with a small pink rose in the middle.

"Come on, Soap, my dad won't know," she smiles at him.

"Fuck," he closed her bedroom door and Y/n smirked knowing he finally got his attention.

"Come on, Soap," she said.

He walked to her, and she started to remove her tank-top and Soap grabbed her skirt and pulled it down. His hands went to her panties and pulled them off as well. He rested his hands on her thighs and looked up at her with a smirk.

"Are you sure, he won't know?" Soap asked.

"Promise, he won't be back so soon, and he always values his work first."

"That's not true, he values you."

"Not really," Y/n closed her legs and covered her exposed area and looked down at him. "Why do you think him, and my mom got a divorce? Because he worked so much and valued his work over mom and me, that...they called it quits..."

"But...he talks about you a lot when we hang out."

"Doesn't matter...he sure as hell doesn't show it..." She looked down at him, his hands slid up her thighs and rested on her exposed hips. His hands soon went around to her butt and gently squeezed, earning a soft moan from her.

"He talked about you when you were high school and how you were so nervous in freshman year, you were scared if you and your friends would drift apart but you all stuck together through high school..." Soap lifted up the end of the skirt. "You were nervous about your Prom thinking Hunter wouldn't show but he did..."

Soap then moved forward closed to her area, she could feel his hot breath on her. "...Your Senior year...you were crazy nervous about a test that was 100% of your grade...you passed...and...he took you out for dinner..." he then licked between her folds earning a moan from her. She grabbed his hair and leaned on her elbows.

"S-Soap-"

"Senior Prom...you left early because you were homesick...you wanted to spend the rest of you night with your dad because you...he may be lonely when you were out..."

Y/n's grip tightened on his hair that she got a groaned from him. She looked down at his eyes as he kept licking her and talking to her about what her father has said about her.

Y/n always thought that Price valued his work over her...Price is a good father, he's been to all her soccer games even when he had tuns of work, he'd put everything on hold just to go watch her play.

Even when she joined the dance team, he put everything on hold just to go and watch her.

She realized how more present he was in her life versus her own mother...hell...her own mother told her that she should go live with Price because she didn't want to deal with Y/n and all her actives during school that Price was there even when she didn't want her there.

Soap licked between her folds some more and started to insert two fingers inside of her. He started to move them in and out of her quickly, she moaned his name and let go of his hair and started to grip the sheets on her bed.

"H-Holy fuck," she moans.

"He was mad...when you and Hunter first broke up...he thought he would...have to kill him because he...broke his little girls' heart..." Soap mumbled. He looked up at her and hummed a little bit.

He stood up and pushed her on her back. His hands slid up her shirt, he felt her bra and unhooked it with one hand and got it off her chest. He pushed her tank top up exposing her breasts to him.

She ran her fingers up her stomach to the tank top to keep it out of his way. His hands went to her sides and looked down at her small body as his big, veiny hands just caressed her.

"You fit my hands so perfectly," he mumbles and kissed her neck and moved up to kiss her lips.

His hands roamed all over her, his hand then started to fiddle with his belt and started to remove his belt and pull his pants down, he removed his shirt and then pushed himself against her clit.

"H-Holy-" she moans.

He started to fish himself out of her boxers and pulled his boxers off his lower half.

"I-It's not f-fair that I'm fully clothed and y-you're not..." she moans.

"You're not technically fully clothed...you're just in a skirt and tank top, you don't have panties and a bra on..."

"Half naked but still."

"Fine," he quickly rips her skirt off her lower half and pulled her tank top over her head. "There...now we're even," he smirks.

"G-Good," she mumbles and Soap without warning pushed himself inside of her.

He thrusts were sloppy but soon started to pick the pace even more and she let out a satisfying moan that made his head spin. Hearing her moans make him feel like he's doing such a good job.

To tell the truth. Soap wasn't that experience. Price always teased him about how needs to get out more and have some more experience with a woman. He only had 2 girlfriends in his life and a wife and wasn't that experience.

His hand cupped her face and rubbed his thumb under her eye, he watched her face and smirked seeing her face become so red and watching her expressions change as well.

"Goddamn, I d-didn't think I w-was that good," Soap groans.

---------

Price looked at his phone seeing the time, but he also knows that Soap's 'waiting' on him at the house. Price looked at his computer and saw he has 5 more emails and then he can be done.

He answered them and then texted Y/n.

Price: *Hey, I'm almost done soon, let Johnny know I'm coming soon, and we can watch the game*

Y/N: *.....*

Price just looked at the dots on the screen letting him know she was typing.

Y/n was on her stomach as Soap was hitting her from the back, she was a moaning mess as she couldn't even type properly. She only got a few words typed out but couldn't even hit the 'send' button.

"H-He's a-about done s-soon..." she moans as Soap gripped her hips and smacked her butt watching his handprint form on her left cheek.

"Then...w-we better h-hurry..." she could feel him smirking behind her.

She dropped her phone on her bed and gripped the bedsheets. She felt her stomach start turning, she was about to cum. He could feel her about to cum, he gripped her hips even tighter knowing he was going to cum as well.

"Holy fuck," Soap moans and so does Y/n. She felt herself leak onto his dick and he pulled out and she felt his cum leak on her lower back.

Y/n was panting trying to catch her breath as Soap rested his forehead between her shoulder blades and kissed her shoulder.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"No...I'm okay...I need to c-clean up..." she sat up and moved off her bed, Soap fell on his back on her bed and looked up at the ceiling and heard the water start.

He looked at her bathroom seeing the door open, and he could see her figure in the shower, he rubbed his temple and grabbed his boxers and jeans putting them back on.

DING DONG

"SOAP, CAN YOU GET THAT!?"

"Yeah," he grabbed his shirt and put it back on and walked downstairs to go answer the door. He looked through the glass and saw Hunter. He opened the door with some force making Hunter jump a little.

"The fuck you want?"

"Who are you?" Hunter asked, he looked around to make sure he has the right house. "Is this the Price's?"

"Yeah, it is," he crossed his arms over his chest.

Y/n had a towel wrapped around her waist and a towel in her hair. She walked downstairs and saw Hunter at the door and Soap intimating him.

"Hunter?"

"Who the hell is this guy?" Hunter asked pointing to Soap.

"He's...my dad's best friend..." she said.

"Why are you wet? Did you get out of the shower?"

"Wow, no shit Captain Obvious," Soap said.

"Soap..." Y/n warned. "What do you want Hunter?" She asked him.

"Just wanted to come by and say I'm here...come on...let's go to the movies but I see...you're not even ready...and...this guy is here," Hunter tried to intimidate Soap back but of course, Soap isn't scared of some random ass kid.

"Are you...KIDDING ME! WHY THE HELL WOULD I GO TO THE MOVIES WITH YOU NOW!! YOU IGNORED ME FOR THREE HOURS AND ALL OF A SUDDEN YOU SHOW UP!! I AM NOT GOING ANYWHERE WITH YOU!!" She slammed the door in Hunter's face and leaned against the door. "Holy fuck...is he fucking serious?" She asked, looking up at Soap.

"I see now what Price was talking about."

"What?" She asked.

"You can definitely handle yourself to where...you don't even need a guy..." Soap smiles.

"He said that?"

"Again, kid, he talks about you all the time...even when you think he doesn't think about you or talk about you, he does...and he's very grateful and thankful to have you in his life," he said, leaning down and kissing her lips.

"I know, he loves me and all...but like I said...he only loves his work...I have to go get dressed now..." she said, walking up the stairs.

--------

1:30PM

Price got in the driveway and saw Y/n's car and Soap's car, he smiled at his daughter's car, a 1967 Chevy impala, it was Price's first car and he found back it in a garage at his old home where it lived for probably 20 or more years, he fixed it up just for her. She takes care of it like it's her child.

He grabs his keys before entering his home. He unlocks the door and opens it seeing Soap on the couch, a beer in hand and Y/n sitting on the love seat far from Soap reading her book, her legs to her chest as she looked up from her book seeing her dad walk in the door.

"Hi dad," she says with her usual sweet smile on her face.

"Hey, lovely..." he sets his stuff down at the door and grabbed a beer from the fridge. "Has the game started, MacTavish?" Price asked as he plopped on the other side of the couch.

"Nah, not yet Price..." He smirks before taking a sip from his beer.

"Damn, if I knew you were coming this early, I should have been home earlier."

"Nah, it's good," Soap looked at Y/n who hid her red face behind her book.

Y/n left the living room and headed to her bedroom.

Price looked at Soap before taking a swing on his beer.

"I know you two had sex while I was gone," Soap spit it his drink out, he coughed and wiped his chin before staring at Price.

"What?" He choked out.

"Soap, I have cameras around the house for Y/n's protection while I'm gone...I saw them go off when you two were alone and I have one outside her bedroom door, you two went in and you shut the door, you came out an hour later fixing your shirt and opened the front door to Hunter asking for her, you both handled it pretty well, I should say...Just...don't let that ever happen again, you got it?"

"Yes, sir...and...sorry..."

"It's fine."

"Are you going to tell her, that you know?"

"No, I'll let her know that you two didn't do anything..."

#cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod x reader #fandom #fanfic #call of duty #mw2 #cod #john soap mctavish x reader #soap call of duty #soap mactavish #soap mctavish #soap cod #soap x reader #john soap mactavish #soap mw2 #john soap mctavish x you

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archeolatry · 7 months ago

Text

So there was a point in my work life when Ron Mael was my mortal enemy archnemesis. True story.

I used to work at a famous arthouse theater in West LA from about 2002 until ‘08-’09, when I moved up at another theater in the chain. Even then I was often called in to pinch-hit when the famous place was expecting a film to be busy or if they needed someone between new hires. (I left the company at the end of 2015.)

One of the downsides to working there was that parking was pretty terrible. The theater itself was built in the 1920s, and the street to the east of it was almost all apartments. Most of those were built from the ‘40s up until the ‘60s, so they were largely street parking only. Not to mention the fact that the street on the west side of the theater was getting busier-- hipster boutiques and Pan-Asian eateries had started popping up a few blocks down the road from us. (IYKYK.)

So the employees of the theater, the video store, and the less-hip restaurants next to the main drag all had to compete with customers of said businesses —as well as those of the used bookstore— for the handful of double-stacked spaces in the back alley. The best space was the fairly generous single spot by the dumpster. You weren’t gonna get towed because you blocked someone in, or get blocked in yourself, or risk your car’s bumper by parking in the other, shorter single space by the freeway on-ramp; you could simply just park your car and forget about it until your shift was over- no need to play musical chairs. And if your shift ended after midnight and you had the day’s cash earnings stuffed in your jacket to deposit at the bank, the closeness of the spot was optimal.

That is all to say that the dumpster spot was hot property.

Cue the Black Volkswagen Thing.

(I marked The Thing even then because a member of the theater’s Rocky Horror cast also owned a Volkswagen Thing, though his was white. I thought it funny that two of the same rare car* should converge in this one place, often on the same day.)

The Thing did not belong to the theater staff. It did not belong to the video store staff. (I asked.) It did not belong to the staff of the used bookstore, who had three dedicated spots and never had enough customers to need more than two employees at a time**. (It might have belonged to one of the restaurants, but we hadn’t the Spanish nor Arabic skills to ask.) Nevertheless, The Thing was parked in the dumpster spot at some point during almost every weekend, and it would be there at the worst possible time.

It seemed that I could rarely beat The Thing to the coveted space no matter how early I got there. Maybe if I showed up before 4. But very often between 4:30 and 5:55, The Thing was there. Sometimes I stuck my head out the back door during a shift to see if the space was free. If it wasn’t, it was because a car had parked there after The Thing had left. And sometimes The Thing had the audacity to take up the other single spot to the same result. It seemed The Thing existed entirely to spot-block me.

Then one day, while I was attempting to park, I saw a man coming from the bookstore towards the lot. It was Boss Accountant***.

Boss Accountant was a lithe man with a stern face and plastered hair that was too black for his age; he usually dressed in a crisp white shirt and tie with proper trousers, and seemed like he was on his lunch break from an accounting firm despite it being the weekend. He looked like the boss battle in a video game where you had to fight your way through an office building; the final accountant you had to beat to level up. I had seen him at the bookstore more than once.

I put my car into park —hazard lights on— waiting to see which spot would be freed up.

Boss Accountant was approaching The Thing.

A customer! It was a customer that had been spot-blocking me! Not even one of my fellow workers there for a six-hour haul, but someone there for a capricious ninety minutes at best. And a customer of the stuffy bookstore to boot. Clearly not deserving of the coveted spot.

I glared at him beneath my sunglasses while he took his sweet time getting there. I tried not to begrudge the old man, BUT…!

My fingers drummed irritably against the steering wheel. This fucker. I inched slightly closer as he got in the car. The spot was MINE gatdammit and no one else was gonna come along and take it.

Finally, after an irritably long time (and probably him figuring out that I wasn’t a crazed fan trying to box him in but someone gunning for the coveted parking space) the backup lights came on. I reversed. He pulled out and drove away. I pulled in, triumphant. Spot-blocked no more! At least, not on that day. In my own mind, I had tangled with The Thing and won. (I was like 23 and undiagnosed, bruh- go easy on me here.)

Then one day the dumpster spot got painted off as disabled parking, and the dumpsters were moved to the other single spot, leaving us all to fend for ourselves in the double-stack and on the street.

I’m unsure what year this all took place, and I didn’t know (at the time) what had become of Boss Accountant and The Thing, since I saw less of them after that. Thinking back, it was probably promo and touring for Hello Young Lovers or 21x21/Exotic Creatures... that took him/it away. My moving to the other theater made the point moot anyway. (It’s definitely moot now as the bookstore was razed for a new-build apartment sometime in 2016. The new building does not have its own parking garage.)

However, enough time had passed that I didn’t recognize Boss Accountant when I sold him a ticket for The Umbrellas of Cherbourg during a slow weekend matinee in 2014. Pleasant demeanor. Polite smile. Crisp shirt, too-black plastered hair. Didn’t order concessions, didn’t dwell in the lobby but went right into the theater. The old man was surely out of earshot when my manager looked over at me. “Do you have any idea who that was?”

“No.”

“That was Ron Mael from Sparks.”

“Who?”

---

Thank goodness I watched The Sparks Brothers at home on Netflix, cuz when I saw that car I about lost my gatdamn mind.

*J, the Rocky Horror guy, told me they were rare. Looking up info now, I see that less than 30k of them were made for the North American market, and they were only sold in the US from 1973-74. A 2017 report from an informal registry of Thing owners estimates around 5k of them still exist today in the entire US. Weird, right?

**The bookstore itself was highly curated and had the mid-century Spartan sparseness of a Bell Telephone Laboratories office. I didn’t care for it much; it was too hoity-toity and tended to eschew paperbacks even of Very Good Books for rare or collectible hardcovers. It wasn’t particularly welcoming, and didn’t even really have much of an Old Book Smell. But in the days before The Pocket Internet, employees were allowed to read while the film played, and sometimes you just needed a New And/Or Different Book. ***This addition is about 75 notes too late, but I felt the need to clarify. We had lots of 'recurring characters' that we ended up giving Sex and the City-style names to, as one often does in a service environment. We had a man we called Large Diet because, through physical or mental impairment, those were the only words he would/could croak out like some bizarro Pokémon (tho he later added "Thanks."). We had a man -whose real name I learned but forgot- that we called Lincoln because he had a chinstrap beard. (He was Lincolnesque in no other way. He was of average height, pudgy, and of a merry sort of disposition.) So, naturally, the man from bookstore got himself a moniker just for sticking out, despite the fact that we never spoke and only Acknowledged Each Other With A Nod In That Way White People Do For Some Reason. (You know what I mean.)

#As a postscript:#the ‘So May We Start’ sequence of Annette was filmed across the street from the bank where we dropped off the night deposit.#Convergence!#Look at all these parentheses and footnotes #Eat your heart out David Foster Wallace #ron mael #rons georg #sparks band #i'm a part time sparks blog now

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 8 months ago

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am i the asshole for not lending my uncle my copy of zelda tears of the kingdom?

i (17f) have two uncles which are relevant to this story, both maternal. they're the oldest and youngest (not sure exactly how old, one is around 30 and the other is in his late 40s/early 50s.)

last year, the older uncle lent me his copy of zelda breath of the wild. this was after about a year and a half of him having it. during that time he made sure i was well aware how difficult and lengthy it was, which was why he couldn't give it to me to play yet. i don't profess to be a gamer or anything- i just enjoy playing videogames, and i didn't really know what the zelda series was at the time, so i kind of just shrugged it off. when he finally did give it to me, it was after i let his kids borrow my personal copy of animal crossing, and he kind of just stuck the cartridge into my hand while i was leaving and insisted i take it.

i was and still am a student, and just didn't have the time to start casually playing until a few months later in the spring, around may. i really enjoyed it and got 75% of the way through by the time summer vacation rolled around, which was when my cousin (his son) started dropping by to ask when i would be giving zelda back. i told him every day for three consecutive days that i would give it back when i was finished, but he was really anxious to start playing because my uncle only lets them have their nintendo switch in the summer. i offered my cousin his selection of any game we had (as we have done multiple times). he said he'd already played all of our games and that a couple of the newer ones my brother had gotten for his birthday were "trashy" and left.

the fourth time he came over he basically stood in the doorway and demanded the zelda game, said it was his dad's, and that he'd give it back when he finished it. my mom scolded him because of his attitude, saying that my uncle mostly just borrows whatever games they want to play from us for up to a year and a half at a time, and we never complain. she told me to go get the game and give it to him, and he started crying and left before i could. my uncle came over ten minutes later to smooth things over and left with botw. he never gave it back and i never got to finish it.

back in around november, my younger uncle, who is unmarried and has no kids, gifted me zelda botw and totk, specifically because he'd heard about what happened with my older uncle. when my older uncle found out at thanksgiving, he asked me to give totk to him. i told him i was busy with college apps and haven't opened it yet and he said it was fine, and that he would play it and give it back in a few days. i refused, saying that i wanted to open my own game when i wasn't busy, and my mom, who was also there, agreed with me and said that i deserved the experience of opening a present and enjoying it on my own time. he tried a few more times to convince me unsuccessfully and eventually relented.

two months ago i opened botw and am making very slow progress on it because i just don't have the time to finish it as quick as i'd like. totk is still in the plastic on my dresser. a few days ago my uncle messaged me asking for totk, and i ignored it. my mom told me just to tell him i already lent it to someone, but today he turned up on my porch while i was waiting to go to school and asked me for it, and in my exasperation i said, "i haven't even opened it yet." he again told me to let HIM open it and that "he'd give it back in three days after finishing it," and just to let him have it. i told him no. and then i told him no several more times. at one point he got annoyed and said, "fine, be like that," and walked away.

some additional context: my uncle is not broke. he makes six figures and has a very good engineering job. he bought a ps5 almost as soon as it came out. he makes the conscious choice not to purchase his own games, i guess because he feels no need to when he could just borrow them from us instead? my family doesn't make a lot of money but my mom saves up so we can have games, usually as birthday or holiday gifts. i have never borrowed a game from him except botw because he doesn't have any to lend. i also feel like if he really wanted zelda totk that bad he could just buy it himself, because he can definitely afford it. my mom, maternal aunt, and cousins (not his kids) are all on my side, and my aunt says that my younger uncle doesn't like my older uncle and would be pissed if i lent them to him. on the other hand i just feel bad for holding out and being difficult because i want to open it on my own time, and i even though i don't like him as a person i still feel guilty for being rude to and pissing him off because he's my mom's oldest sibling.

so, aita for not lending it to him?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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ronearoundblindly · 7 months ago

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For my favorite Steve 🥰💙🖤 (Fools Rush In)

29. Describe their nighttime routine.

30. What are their respective love languages? Do their love languages work well together?

38. Who’s got a quicker temper?

Questions are from this ask game and about this post-Endgame AU with Steve Rogers x lab tech!Reader.

There's no TV in your shared apartment because there are so, so many monitors on the compound. Steve likes some peace and quiet, to listen to records or the radio, or simply to read. Nighttime offers less drawing inspiration than daylight outdoors, but occasionally he'll putter with some sketching. That's harder to do while sitting right beside you on the couch, or while you lay with your head in his lap (and vice versa). Even if Steve reads, he has one hand on you, resting. In fact, he particularly enjoys books on tape because you two can snuggle and just relax.

This is your time to chat about the day, too, but since not everyday is very exciting, being present is enough.

All that is done in the living room because Steve is a bit of a purist in what you do where. Eat at the table. Relax on the couch. Sleep in the bed. Do not eat in the bed; that's not what it's for. Weird old fart...

It's fine to get sleepy on the couch, but it's very rare to stay asleep there all night.

For the most part, bedtime routines in the bathroom are separate. There's a His & Her's sink in the master bath, so if that's all anyone needs, you brush teeth and wash face side-by-side.

Steve starts out laying on his back with you curled up against his chest and hip. He does progressive relaxation to force his muscles to release tension from the day. He's so bulky now that this is crucial. It helps elongate his spine so when he does turn over to spoon you, Steve is properly gelatinous to mold around the back of your body.

Sometimes, if Steve can tell you're not asleep yet, he'll start humming your song, and he enjoys that he can hear your smile when you chuckle and wiggle deeper into his hold.

He runs hot, so Steve prefers a fan on in the bedroom which serves as low, white noise. He doesn't mind if you need a thicker blanket, however, he just mostly likes the air circulation.

If it's not obvious from Steve's nighttime routine, his love language is quality time. He appreciates the quiet moments you spend with him more than most celebrations. Time is precious to Steve Rogers. He understands its value. You giving him your time means everything.

(Not trying to make assumptions about every reader's love language, but I'm gonna wing it for Keeps.)

You thrive on words of affirmation, and Steve becomes better and better at communicating. He starts out so guarded because of the life he leads: his job is acts of service, he doesn't experience physical touch like other, he's...sorta terrible at gift giving, and Steve is being watched and listened to constantly. He's leery of everyone and everything. F.R.I.D.A.Y's everywhere--worse than J.A.R.V.I.S was--which takes a lot of getting used to.

He gets better, though. Steve has had to get comfortable with a lot of new-to-him behaviors. Not that he wouldn't have been nice and communicative with a girlfriend in the '40s, but he never had a girlfriend before. He's had zero practice, and at first, he's very awkward. Eventually, the words come easily, albeit always softly in public. He hates the idea of anyone else being in your relationship. They're there anyway.

Fools's Steve says "I love you" to you often, but the words have about three thousand variations of intonation and subtext, from playful to pissy. If you aren't alone, it's usually whispered.

Other than that, Steve not only tells you how lovely you look--even when you don't feel beautiful--but annoyingly and obviously means it every single time. You can see it in his eyes and his body language. It took a while to accept that he truly loves you and finds you beautiful. Your mind fought against accepting that. You were convinced by his every hesitation that it meant he couldn't possibly love you, but that wasn't true. That's not what was going on.

Steve took a while to sift through his feelings and hangups, but the question was never whether he loved you or was attracted to you. He worried whether or not he could be the partner he wanted to be to the right person.

Technically...Steve???? This one's a little complicated.

You get truly angry only after something has been stewing for a long time. Consistent, tiny annoyances or frustrating behaviors eventually boil to the surface in infrequent rages.

Steve, on the other hand, is cool as a cucumber until the most random, damndest things just 🫰🏼set him off. He's a cheeky bastard when his feathers are rumpled the wrong way. It's odd and totally hilarious.

He spends so much time as Cap letting everything just roll off his back like a duck in water. He has to go with the flow. He can only control himself and what he does in the future. He gives orders, yes, but humans err; Steve understands that maybe nothing he plans will go correctly. He's prepared for that.

But...what Steve isn't prepared for is people putting a vinyl record in the wrong dust jacket with no indication as to where the correct one will be. What kind of imbecile-- He can't stand his to-go order being totally opposite what it's supposed to be because seriously he didn't even make any substitutions! And absolutely hysterically, he can't handle there not being a 'wet floor' sign when the very shiny floors happen to be very slippery.

For a big man, Steve falls hard.

He got some great height though... Spun nearly 200 degrees mid-air before flopping the landing and bouncing against the far wall. Spectacularly funny when you know he isn't hurt. It's not even a pride or ego ding for Steve; he's simply furious that someone not-him could have been the one to slip.

So yeah, technically Steve has the quicker temper, but his anger lasts less time than yours.

Thank you for asking!

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

Tags: @supraveng @1950schick @patzammit

@whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses

@jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @brandycranby @buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn

@late-to-the-party-81 @rogersbarber @im-a-slut-for-fluff @fangirl-swagg

@georgeweaslysgirl @austynparksandpizza @claireelizabeth85 @jamneuromain

#ro answers #ask game #fools rush in series #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers angst #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fluff

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leqonsluv3r · 6 months ago

Text

ask/prompt game

in my asks, request a number and i’ll write a prompt about it. give the specific leon kennedy you want (or if you don’t have a preference)!! totally up to you guys <33

completed ones listed here !!

i will cross out the prompts that have been requested/used below :)) i did a mix of smut, fluff, and some angst. just to give you guys some options. i will write a drabble or a oneshot (again, whichever you guys request) based on the prompt you choose.

prompt creds: (1-50) — @animupiglett

(51-85) — @alwayskaysanova

(85-100) — mine

1. "i love it when you moan my name.”

2. "i want you now.”

3. "please don't stop.”

4. "open your mouth.”

5. "spend the night with me.”

6. "just a little harder.”

7. “i wanna fuck you right against the glass so everyone can see how good you take it.”

8. “don't give me that look.”

9. "make me.”

10. "i promise I'll be good.”

11. "be a good girl and spread your legs.”

12. "you can get louder can't you?”

13. “do you like that?”

14. “just shut up and fuck me.”

15. “stay quiet.”

16. “you need a place to stay for the night?”

17. “don’t be gentle.”

18. “i just want to please you.”

19. “i told you to stay still.”

20. “i’ve never done this before.”

21. “i love the way you look with my fingers inside you.”

22. "there is no way anyone is that innocent.”

23. "don't worry i'll take of you.”

24. "these walls are pretty thick which means you and i can be as loud as we want.”

25. "bed. now.”

26. "we're in public you know?”

27. "if you interrupt me one more time— so help me god.”

28. "you're more than just a one night stand.”

29. “did you touch yourself while i was gone?”

30. "the only way you're getting off is on my thigh.”

31. "i haven't even touched you and you're already wet.”

32. “you taste like fucking candy.”

33. "you're so fucking hot when you're mad.”

34. "i don't know what to do" "then let me teach you.”

35. "are these handcuffs?”

36. "why so shy?"

37. "we've been at it like rabbits and you're still horny.”

38. “show me.”

39. “use your mouth.”

40. “what are you going to do about it?”

41. “bend over and spread your legs.”

42. “you feel amazing.”

43. “i want you to touch yourself.”

44. “i’ve been thinking about this all day.”

45. “friends don’t do this kind of shit.”

46. "I'm going to fuck your so hard you're going to forget that guys name.”

47. "no, i'm supposed to make you feel good.”

48. "y-you're not... w-wearing anything under that are you?”

49. “you wanna have sex with me?”

50. "i really want to kiss you right now.”

51. "What the hell are you wearing?"

52. "I don't hate you. I could never hate you. That's the problem.”

53. "I can't stand the thought of losing you."

54. "Of all the people I could've gotten stuck in an elevator with and it just had to be you."

55. "I wish you could see yourself the way I see you."

56. "I love you. I'm completely and utterly in love with you. Please don't get married."

57. "It's only one night, we'll just share the bed."

58. "Our first date is a picnic on a beach under the stars? Have you swallowed a romance novel? Do I need to call a doctor?"

59. "Stop running from this. I know I'm not the only one who feels it."

60. "Kiss me, quick!"

61. "Why the hell are you bleeding!?"

62. "I'd die for you. Of course, l'd haunt you in the afterlife but really, it's the thought that counts."

63. "You're so beautiful."

64. "Teach me to fight."

65. "We shouldn't be doing this."

66. "You were never just my friend."

67. "I can't do this anymore."

68. "I tried, but I just can't stay away from you anymore."

69. "I bet I can make you scream my name."

70. "That's the third time I've saved your life!"

71. "How can you think I'm anything but hopelessly in love with you?"

72. "I will never apologize for saving your life, even if it costs me my own."

73. "There's no going back if we do this."

74. "What do you want me to say?"

75. "I never thought you'd hurt me but I was wrong. You hurt me the most."

76. "I want you and I know you want me too."

77. "I can't watch you with someone else. It's tearing me apart."

78. “I’m dying.”

79. "Don't panic but I think we might have accidentally gotten married..."

80. "I want you and I know you want me too."

81. “I can’t watch you with someone else. It’s tearing me apart.”

82. "I'm not leaving you!"

83. "Tell me to go and I will, but if you ask me to stay l'll never leave you again."

84. "Are you ticklish?"

85. "I will knock you on your ass if you even think about it."

86. “did you really have to be that honest?”

87. “of course it meant something!”

88. “i gave you everything i had.”

89. “can we do it again?”

90. “you just can’t help yourself, can you?”

91. “go ahead. touch it.”

92. “i’m not jealous of them!”

93. “the center of your attention is a very bad place to be.”

94. “i’ll admit, i’m very possessive.”

95. “you kissed me first.” “i definitely didn’t.”

96. “you mean more to me than anyone else, you know that.”

97. “i’d spoil you rotten if i had the chance.”

98. “come here, i’ll keep you warm.”

99. “pretend to date me? please?”

100. a quote of your choice <3

#leon kennedy #leon x reader #leon kennedy smut #re2 leon #re2 remake #re4 remake #leon kennedy au #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy drabble #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy angst #writing prompts #prompt game #leon s kennedy x reader #dbf! leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #di leon x reader #leon kennedy x fem reader

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chuitu · 21 days ago

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Dissipating tracks

Origin of file: Logistics Archives

I.Ds detected:

- Silver haired Anon

- Hóng Haí'er

- Jiangguō Tianhong

File corruption: Mild

"Anything Tian?" (Haì'er)

"I've picked up 4 responses from the radars, although, all 4 of them are blaring, so i can't really get you the exact location where Yeva is..." (Tianhong)

"Classic Nova... that's fine Tian, I'll manage..." (Haì'er)

"By the way, why don't you just, idk call her? doesn't she have her phone?" (Tianhong)

"She doesn't, the Celestial court confiscated it the day she got there." (Haì'er)

"Really?? It's no wonder she wasn't responding to any of my calls or texts... and honestly, it was suspicious when they didn't let Ms. Chang'e see her too..." (Tianhong)

"True... What was up with that, it's like they were keeping her to themselves... might have found out there was more to her than just her powers.. they went as far as to-" (Haì'er)

"To... To what?" (Tianhong)

"N-Nothing... Okay look, I'll try to locate her on foot, I'll update you when i find her." (Haì'er)

"Alright Red... Good luck, bring Ms. Yeva home..." (Tianhong)

"That's the plan." (Haì'er)

↻ ◁ I ▷ ↺

{Estimated duration of search: 4 hour and 30 minutes}

Current location: (Main city area) District 12 <<

"Testing testing... Search log,, 1 hour and 30 minutes, no sign of 'The White Haired Esper' in the corner alleyway of the enterprise building... checking Megapolis Hospital now..."

"Not here, I checked the security cameras though, she did pass by here, but didn't stay for a long time... she went about 8 paces west, she must be headed for Wesalis District..."

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

{Estimated duration of search: 8 hours and 12 minutes}

Current location: Exit/Entrance of Wesalis to Dinsun District <<

"She wasn't near the shops, but people said they saw her pass by, I also found her hairpin somewhere near the benches... it probably came loose and fell off.."

"Yeva, where are you...?"

↻ ◁ III ▷ ↺

{Estimated duration of search: 12 hours and 21 minutes}

Current location: Crossing in Dinsun towards Opalesque District

"Yeva, why are you making this so difficult... no... no this is my fault she's like this, she probably doesn't want to see me after yelling at her.. when she just finally got to see me again, i blew it... damn... I'm such an idiot..."

"Look, I'm sorry okay?! I'm sorry i yelled at you.. I'm sorry for leaving you in the rain... can we talk about it... please? where are you..."

"... I remember how we used to play all sorts of games and pranks in these very streets and apartments... she always knew how to make anything fun..."

"I miss you Nova... please come back, you dropped your hairpin... you need it don't you?"

↻ ◁ IV ▷ ↺

{Estimated duration of search: 16 hours and 40 minutes}

Current location: Opalesque District,, West Sector <<

"Anything? Red?" (Tianhong)

"No... She's too fast, every time i think i finally got the lead she's 5 steps ahead of me.. She was just here by the park according to some sightings of her on social media... yet i still lose track." (Haì'er)

"Eeesh... !!- Red! I just got another radar alert" (Tianhong)

"Really?! Where?" (Haì'er)

"It's in District 7, near the weather station! quickly now, it's only been 10 seconds!" (Tianhong)

"Got it! Keep your eyes on that radar Tian!" (Haì'er)

↻ ◁ V ▷ ↺

{Estimated duration of search: 20 hours}

Current location: District 7,, road towards the Weather station

"Did you find her yet?" (Tianhong)

"Are you sure the radar pinged near the weather station?!" (Haì'er)

"Yes, I'm sure!" (Tianhong)

".... I- !!- I found h- She's-! YEVA!!" (Haì'er)

"Red? Did you find her? Red??" (Tianhong)

-- Record end --

-- Archive #1 of "Dissipating Tracks" restored --

#lmk fandom #lmk au #lmk oc #lego monkie kid oc #art #oc; yeva moon #lmk redson #oc; tianhong jiangguo #lmk rescripted au #•nierko zikloa•

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snowdice · 1 month ago

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Big Bang Editing Story [Day 125]

I started writing this fic while editing my Big Bang story years ago, but am going to continue doing it for other things now that Kill Dear is out. I will write and publish 100 words of the story every time I finish doing whatever task I’m doing. If you’d like to block these proceedings, please feel free to block the tag ‘proofread stories.’ I will reblog this post with the parts of the story I do today. Edited chapters are linked; everything else I’ve done so far is under the cut.

My Master Post Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Part 30 Part 31 Part 32 Part 33 Part 34 Part 35 Part 36 Part 37 Part 38 Part 39 Part 40 Part 41 Part 42 Part 43 Part 44 Part 45 Part 46 Part 47 Part 48 Part 49 Part 50 Part 51 Part 52 Part 53 Part 54 Part 55 Part 56 Part 57

I have been sick and I'm very tired, but I will work on the epilogue today for a bit at least!

Chapter 58 (Patton)

If Patton hadn’t already been looking, he probably wouldn’t have had any idea what happened.

Everything had been fine. Virgil had been sitting cross legged, idly watching the conclusion of the game they’d been playing when his posture had suddenly changed. Patton had looked over at him only to see an expression on his face he didn’t recognize, but it didn’t seem good.

“What?” Patton had asked, but the question didn’t seem to register to Virgil.

Logan had glanced up confused and also noticed Virgil’s face. He’d just opened his mouth to also ask what was going on when chaos descended.

Virgil was suddenly moving, crashing into King Thomas who hadn’t even looked up to see something was wrong at that point. Patton realized after the fact that Virgil had swiped up the board of the game they’d been playing as he jumped over it, the pieces previously stacked on it scattering all over the blanket. There were three thumps as some things hit the thick board, imbedding themselves into the surface.

When Virgil discarded the board in favor of the picnic basket, Patton saw there were small darts in it oozing a dark black liquid. The parts of the board they touched were dissolving, the grass under the new holes beginning to wilt rapidly.

Logan seemed to notice the oozing liquid the same moment Patton did and was quicker to realize what it was. He grabbed Patton’s arm and yanked him away from the board so hard he almost dislocated Patton’s shoulder, not that Patton was too worried about that. He scrambled away from it when he realized what it must be himself.

He could hear the sound of glassware smashing above them. Logan and Patton had rolled off the blanket in their quest to get away from the smoldering, melting board and apparently Virgil had pulled the picnic blanket fully over the king at some point.

Virgil himself was now gone from where he’d been the last time Patton had looked and it took him a moment to figure out where the boy had gone. The person who had been shooting poisoned darts at them had been drawn out of the wooded area they’d been hiding in by Virgil’s attacks.

They were cloaked in dark green from head to toe, explaining why they’d been difficult to spot when they were in the woods. Whoever they were, they were significantly larger than Virgil, possibly an actual adult or almost adult assassin, but they were also clearly a long distant fighter. They had not been expecting resistance let alone resistance in the form of a so quick he was almost a blur fellow assassin.

They had a bow strapped to their back, but they hadn’t had a chance to get it. Instead, they were trying to fight Virgil off with an arrow they’d managed to draw from their quiver. Virgil, meanwhile was lunging at them with a broken piece of plate in one hand and the picnic basket in the other.

Virgil dodged out of the way of the arrow striking towards his arm, though Patton didn’t think it was because he was afraid of getting scratched by an arrow, but because it may also be poisoned tipped.

Virgil was distracted by dodging for long enough that the older assassin managed to hit him in the face with the arm not holding the arrow.

He went down, but he took the older assassin with him, sweeping their legs out from under them. Patton hadn’t noticed (his mind working too slow for how fast they were moving) but they were on a slight incline. They went rolling in a tangle of arms and legs towards the edge of the cliff and skidded to a stop only a few feet away.

Virgil ended up on top, his piece of broken plate in his hands. He moved to slash it across the other assassin’s throat and managed to draw blood, but the assassin’s fist came out to shove at Virgil’s chest at just the right moment, causing the strike to veer off course and slice across the assassin’s cheek instead.

Virgil jerked to the side to avoid a second strike to the chest and went back for another slash. The other assassin rolled to the side as he did and the plate only managed to nick their ear. The point of the motion hadn’t been to dodge, however. They were lunging for the arrow they’d dropped a few feet away while they’d rolled. They grabbed it with their right hand and in the same motion stabbed back behind them towards Virgil.

Virgil rolled to avoid the hit, already slashing up with his plate as the assassin turned back towards him.

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He didn’t hit them this time but his swipe managed to stop them from stabbing him when they tried again. They shoved themselves back to avoid Virgil’s swing, putting a bit of distance between them. Both of them managed to make it to their feet during the momentary reprieve, but both also stayed crouched, eyeing each other.

They both lunged towards each other at the same time. The assassin went for a stab to Virgil’s neck with the arrow, but Virgil was already ducking down. This time, he wasn’t going for a kill shot. He grabbed the assassin’s wrist and at the same time drove his piece of plate into the assassin’s arm, slicing down from the elbow to wrist. The assassin spoke for the first time, cursing in a language Patton didn’t recognize as they were forced to drop their arrow.

Virgil took a moment to kick the arrow away from the assassin and it ended up falling off the cliff.

However, this pause gave the assassin enough time to regroup. Despite their arm bleeding profusely, they still decided to use it to backhand Virgil across the face viciously, leaving a long line of their own blood across his face.

Virgil lunged back forward, but the assassin was able to get a leg between them, kicking Virgil squarely in the chest and sending him flying back a few feet parallel to the cliff’s edge.

The assassin went to grab their bow and another arrow from the quiver still strapped to their shoulder.

Virgil, however, apparently went for another weapon too and he was much faster with a knife than any archer. A knife appeared in his hand, having been strapped to his ankle and was embedded into the assassin’s chest before they could even full remove an arrow from their quiver.

The assassin promptly burst into flames, fire catching their clothes (and from the smell of it their skin) ablaze. Panicked and dying, they stumbled two steps to the side. They stepped directly off the cliff.

There was a second of silence. They heard the sound of the body hitting the ground far below and then the flap of wings and screeching as birds below fled from the startling sound (and possible soon to be forest fire).

…

“Uh, Virgil?” King Thomas said. He had managed to get the blanket off his head at some point. When, Patton didn’t know, but seeing any of it was probably enough.

Oopsie.

Chapter 59 (Logan)

Logan and Patton had been useless during the fight, but that may have been for the best. Considering the skill differential when it came to fighting (and that differential had never been as clear as it was in this moment), that was probably for the best. They likely would have just gotten in the way.

The moment Logan’s father spoke, however, they both jumped into action.

They both knew their jobs in a situation like this. Patton pushed himself up to his feet ungracefully and all but sprinted over towards Virgil. Logan, on the other hand stood to face his father, putting himself very purposefully between the man who had no idea what was going on yet and the boy who was two seconds away from remembering what was going on.

“I can explain,” Logan said.

His father was still sitting on the ground. “You can explain,” he said slowly, “how Virgil just threw an assassin off a cliff.”

Logan thought pointing out that Virgil hadn’t thrown anyone off a cliff and instead had set them on fire with a magical knife causing them to walk off a cliff, would not be useful in this moment. He glanced back briefly towards where Virgil and Patton were standing and then turned back to his father. “Yes.”

“And what would that explanation be?”

Before even starting to speak, Logan found himself making large dramatic ‘explaining hand gestures’ that he’d thought he’d long since trained himself out of. When he was younger and in trouble, he always used to give himself away as guilty by being overly expressive with his hands (and arms).

“So,” Logan said. He was still not able to stop the hand motions. “Virgil was an assassin. He came here to kill you last fall, but he accidently went to the wrong room in the royal wing. Patton and I were having a slumber party and caught him in the act. Then we reformed him and now he doesn’t kill people anymore.” He paused and glanced back, remembering the body that had just toppled off the cliff. “Er, uh, he doesn’t kill people who haven’t shot poisoned darts at people recently anymore?”

“What?”

“Look,” Logan said. “You’re going to have to tell him you’re not going to execute him soon. Patton can only keep him from bolting for so long.”

“Execute him?” his father asked.

“Well, he was a Mocnejsi assassin sent to kill you,” Logan said.

“Virgil is a Mocnejsi assassin,” his father repeated as though to confirm he’d heard him right.

Logan had thought the Mocnejsi was implied. “He was,” Logan confirmed.

“Why does that make more sense than any other explanation I’ve come up with for him?” his father asked while pinching his brow. Logan took that as rhetorical. Then, his father looked at him again. “He’s 14.”

“Yes,” Logan said, “I’m also pretty sure this is the first person he’s actually killed while not under a blood compulsion, so you really need to tell him he’s not going to be executed.”

His father seemed to actually absorb Logan’s request this time. He finally looked over Logan’s shoulder at Virgil, concern crossing his face at what he saw. “Right.”

He moved to step around Logan then, and Logan let him. Logan turned to watch him slowly approach Patton and Virgil, his hands out in a placating manner. He stopped a few feet away.

“Hey,” his father said. “That was a bit scary, huh?” Virgil looked at him, eyes wide and darting around like they did when he was looking for an escape. There wasn’t much of one being so close to the edge of the cliff.

Logan would worry he’d contemplate throwing himself off of it in a bid to escape if Patton wasn’t clutching him to prevent that. “You did a good job.”

That seemed to give Virgil pause, his eyes focusing on father. “Good job?” he asked.

“Yes, well,” father said with a small smile, “judging by what those darts are doing to the grass and how far we are from any supplies for counter potions, I think you blocking them probably saved my life. So, I think a good job is in order.”

Virgil did not respond verbally, though he tilted his head like he did when he was thinking through the steps of a potion.

His posture changed enough that Patton released him cautiously, taking a step away.

“But,” Virgil said. “I’m an assassin.”

“Yes,” Father said. “I could tell by how that fight just went.”

Virgil shifted his weight. “I came here to kill you.”

His father spread his arms wide. “Yet, here I am,” he pointed out. “You’ve had me alone multiple times including once in a secret room possibly no one would have ever found. Plus, you saved me today. I think that more than makes up for the intentions you had months ago.”

“Does that mean you’re not going to send me to prison?” Virgil asked. “Or execute me?”

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“No, of course not,” his father said.

Virgil eyed him, still slightly warry.

“I promise, Virgil, you’re fine.”

“Dad wouldn’t lie,” Logan interjected. Virgil looked over at him and then back at Father. He nodded slowly.

“Good,” Father said. “Now can we get a bit further back from the edge?” He glanced at Patton. “You too, Patton.”

Virgil and Patton both stepped towards him, and he herded them far away from the edge until they were at the edge of the surrounding forest. Logan followed as well.

“Can I touch your face?” Father asked once they were sufficiently away from the cliffs.

Virgil nodded and father pulled out a handkerchief. He carefully wiped the blood off Virgil’s face the best he could (most of it was not Virgil’s) and inspected the boy’s split lip and already bruising eye.

“Is your chest alright?” Father asked.

Virgil nodded. “Yeah.”

Father considered him. “Enough to ride back to the castle.”

“It wasn’t that bad of a hit,” Virgil insisted.

Father studied him for a moment longer. “I’ll choose to believe you for now,” he said. “We should get back to the castle as soon as possible just in case this is not an isolated attack.”

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“We don’t work in teams,” Virgil informed them. “They worry we’d get emotionally attached and not complete our missions.”

“I can understand why they would say something like that,” Father said, letting just a bit of his scorn come through, “but still, we should be on our way.”

With that, he put an arm on Virgil’s back to guide him back towards where they’d left the horses.

“Huh,” Logan said to Patton as they began to walk behind them. “I thought we’d be in more trouble for all of this.”

His father paused at overhearing that, turning to look at them over his shoulder briefly.

“Ah,” said Logan with a grimace. “I see.”

“It’s been nice being your friend all these years Logan,” Patton said solemnly. “Too bad we’re both going to be locked in our rooms for the rest of our lives.”

“Until your 50s with good behavior,” Father informed them blandly.

That was… probably fair. They did allow an assassin to freely roam the castle for months without telling anyone. The fact that his father was now watching that assassin like a hawk to make sure he wasn’t more injured than he was saying, did not change that fact.

Logan couldn’t find it in himself to regret it.

Epilogue

“Do you think they’ll light your trees on fire this year?” an amused (but slightly concerned) voice asked from behind Jeffers. Jeffers ran a finger over the empty thumb of his slightly dirty gardening gloves while watching the two boys. They were currently leaning over an unlit lantern and various “supplies.” In truth, he’d stopped his own work to watch the two boys out of that very concern.

“Virgil helped me fertilize that tree a week ago,” Jeffers replied. “So, I’d hope he has some caution.”

“Virgil likes fire though,” Thomas pointed out.

Jeffers sighed. “That he does.” He tilted his head towards Thomas. “You did confiscate the fire knife again after last week, yes?”

“I did,” Thomas confirmed, “but that means very little. Even burying that thing with a corpse did not dissuade him.”

As he spoke, a sudden spark of light flew from where the boys were working. A whining sound and then pop sounded as the spark exploded into 10 pieces, raining down colorful light. Luckily, they burned up before hitting the ground (or the tree).

“Boys, if you set anything on fire, you will be grounded from the festival,” Thomas called in a booming voice. Both boys jumped. Jeffers imagined Logan hadn’t even known he was there. (Virgil certainly did, but he still jumped. “For the second year in a row in Logan’s case.”

“They’re not flammable!” was the claim from Logan.

“I don’t believe you,” Thomas called back.

The boys ignored this, turning back to their experiment.

“We should have kept them grounded,” Thomas muttered. Despite Thomas’s original decision to ground Patton and Logan until their 50s (and Helen’s push to keep them grounded until Thomas, Helen, and Jeffers himself were all dead and couldn’t enforce it anymore), the boys had only been grounded for two months after Thomas had found out the truth of Virgil’s origins. That did, however, mean that Patton and Logan had been grounded from most of the lantern festival the year before.

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Logan, at least, seemed to be trying to make up for lost time this year (explosively). Jeffers did worry about where Patton was slightly, but honestly Patton without Logan or Virgil tended to be much less destructive in his hijinx. The worst he was probably doing was stealing sweets out from under Helen’s nose. Which was why both Jeffers and Thomas were currently here watching these two.

There were more sparks from the boy’s experiment. The grass caught fire at their feet. Virgil hastily stomped it out.

“I’ll watch them if you want to get food to bribe Virgil away,” Jeffers offered.

#proofreading stories

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