#fucking in public is fine as long as you move as far away from people/to as private a place as you would go to smoke a cigarette

[vampyr-ss]

family outing | t. fushiguro

authors note: happily holidays freaks.

summary: toji decides to take his pretty little stepdaughter out for a picnic

pairing: toji fushiguro x stepdaughter!reader

wc: 4k

warnings: smut under the cut + dark content (stepcest) + public sex + spitting + pussy/ass eating + mating press + breeding kink + comparison + dumbification + dacryphilia + ‘daddy’ + creampie + overstimulation + infidelity + praise + degrading + squirting + age gap (15 years) + slut shaming + lmk if i missed anything mwah

others: inspired by these videos: 1 2, unedited

toji never really cared for your mother. she was decent, had a good job and held his attention for long enough. it didn’t take a genius to know you hated her, though. you were hostile whenever you were home and spent most of your time far away from her in the mansion you called home.

you were home for your brief holiday before you began grad school, and toji had failed to keep his eyes off of you from the beginning. when he came home to were laying on a pool chair wearing the tiniest fucking bikini he’s ever seen. you’d barely looked over your sunglasses to greet him. that was the first time he wanted to bend you over, though excitedly not the last.

you barely spoke to anyone while you were home despite your mother pestering you about getting to know toji. they got married while you were out of the country, not that you’d bothered making an effort to see her or him anyway. however, toji was enjoying watching you shift in false discomfort when your mom suggested you two go off and do something together while she works. he watches the way your legs cross and your eyes light up albeit subtly. that’s why he takes the perfect opportunity to smile evenly at your mother.

“we could go out for a picnic. it’ll be an easy way to get along. everyone likes food.” toji’s lips quirk up into something more sinister, but no one seemed to notice but you. you arch an eyebrow at him and glance down at your phone briefly for the time. ��it’s almost 4, a little later for lunch don’t you think? plus, it’s getting dark soon.” excuses. toji clicks his tongue in false approval, knowing damn well you’re trying your best not to be alone with him. and you are. because you have no idea what you’ll do if you’re left with him.

“you afraid of the dark, sweetheart?” he snarks easily at you, jutting his chin slightly. you puff air from your nose, rolling your eyes irritatedly at him. oh, how he wished to make them roll differently. “no. i'm worried about the people wandering parks at night.” oh? toji smiles but decides against voicing the nasty thought that ran through his head. “listen, we’ll head out to the park and you can go ahead on to work. don’t worry about us, honey. we’ll get along just fine.” toji’s eyes cut to you briefly as he speaks but most of his words are focused on your mom.

oblivious to the rising tension between you two, she smiles and claps her hands excitedly. “good! good! okay, i really have to go but i love you two. send me pictures and be safe!” she kisses the side of your head (much to your dismay) before kissing toji. she’s out of the door faster then you can blink and you slowly realize exactly what you’ve gotten yourself into. toji watches you carefully before he decides whether he wants to make his next move now or later. your legs are tensing, he can see that because of those tiny fucking shorts you have on. you’re biting down on your lip and scrolling aimlessly on your phone.

he steps closer to the couch and hesitates, looking down at you before resting his hands on your shoulders. “i think you should go get ready,” he purrs, letting his hands slide forward just slightly. you jolt but pretend that you hadn’t, swallowing thickly. “don’t need to stay out late, you know. we don’t know who might be wandering the park at night.” suddenly you hate yourself for speaking earlier but also thank yourself because the chills running down your spine are unimaginable.

"you're right." you murmur in response. "maybe we shouldn't go at all, would be much easier." you side-eye him out of the corner of your eye. toji ignores how you're glaring at him, settling for leaning down to whisper in your ear. "i'm going to put some finger food in one of those cooling bags your mom has. by the time i'm done, you better be down here. understood?" his voice is light, but there's a certain edge to it that makes you sit up straight.

you swallow and turn to face him fully. you've given up on distracting yourself with your phone, your heart is fluttering and your pussy clenching at his tone. "whatever." your voice shakes but you ignore it for the sake of your sanity. toji's jaw clenches but he doesn't work to say much. you finally stand to push past him on the other side of the couch, glancing up at him briefly as you go.

toji felt irritated, but he decided it was all in due time. he'd have his way with you one way or another. and this stupid little date would be perfect. perfect for him to fill your cunt.

that's exactly how you found yourself on your stomach, clawing at the blanket toji had oh-so gently sat down earlier. his strong hands grip the fat of your ass cheeks, spreading them so he can spit on your asshole. you clench subconsciously, whining softly at the foreign feeling. "shut up." toji hisses as he watches the glob of spit slide from your asshole and down your already wet folds.

"you're already showing me this fucking hole in public, you wanna get caught too? fucking slut." his words go straight to your pussy as it clenches around nothing. his tongue slides around the skin near your asshole. he teases you with long slow licks nearing closer and closer to your puckered hole. he wants to ease his fingers inside your ass and threaten to fuck the tight hole, but he needs to know how your cunt feels. he needs to know how tight the pussy you've been teasing him with is.

you dig your face impossibly deeper into the soft blanket underneath you. your fingers are already clenching the blanket and if you moan any louder someone will know exactly what's going on in your little secluded section of the park. toji's ministrations don't cease at your whines. instead, he slips his tongue in your ass while his fingers dig into your ass cheeks to pull them apart further.

"pretty fucking ass." he mumbles, pulling away briefly to admire the slick forming. "you've never had this ass eaten before? tell me, baby." you tilt your head back briefly to attempt to make eye contact with him, but this notion fails when he places harsh smacks on both of your ass cheeks. your back bends as you moan with a shaky hand covering your mouth.

he watches your ass and pussy clench around nothing, begging to be filled. toji traces his fingers along your pussy lips, laughing darkly when your cunt twitches in anticipation. "don't be a slut, baby. wait patiently and i'll give you what you want." the words are ironic coming from him because if it was up to him, he'd have fucked you into the ground by now. however, you looked so fucking good and you deserved to be ruined. so he'd ruin you.

his fingers slowly slide into your cunt, eliciting a loud squish! as they enter you. somehow there's already cum sliding down his fingers and he lets out the harshest scoff. "how long has it been? barely started eating this-" he emphasizes his point by thumbing at your asshole. "fucking hole and the other one 's wet? slutty, slutty baby. should've fucked you sooner."

if you weren't already feeling the effects of toji on you you'd have refuted his claim. he shouldn't have thought of fucking you at all...but you liked it. you wanted your stepdad to take time out of his day, out of his work week to fuck you. you wanted to feel bad and be scared to get caught as he filled you the exact way you needed to be filled. you wanted to sob an cry while his cock stretched you beyond what you’re used to.

toji’s tongue returns to your ass while his fingers slowly begin to pump in and out of you. his tongue ignores the resistance of your hole, pushing through to lick sloppily at the inside. every time his tongue slips inside it comes back out with a soft pop!, and the sound mixes with the loud wet noises coming from your poor cunt. toji’s fingers start to pick up the deeper he begins to get in your ass.

toji shifts slightly from behind you, adjusting to he can use his free hand to put his thumb in your ass. he laughs at the way you clench around his fingers. you’re so fucking needy. your pussy sucks his fingers in deeper every time he pulls out to thrust back in. “you always this fucking tight? or you just been waiting for this?” you whine, freeing your hand from your mouth to grip his wrist.

“i haven’t-! no! i’m not like that!” you cry desperately. toji snorts, pulling his thick fingers out of you to watch your reaction. your hips stutter, pausing briefly before shaking back against him to search for that fullness you’d lost. “‘not like that’? this pussy’s hungry for me and i ain’ even fed her properly. do you dream about this?” you shake your head again, parting your lips to argue with him when he shoves his fingers back into you.

you cry out again, softer this time despite your lack of secrecy the second he slipped his fingers into your cunt. toji laughs, kissing up your neck and across your jaw before landing at the corner of your lips. “shhh, baby girl.” he coos, kissing your lips as his fingers begin to piston in and out of you. your moans are swallowed my his hungry lips as they move against yours, sloppy and uncoordinated kisses being exchanged between the two of you. toji’s tongue slides against your lips before finding its way inside your mouth, wrapping around your tongue sloppily. you groan louder when his fingers find that spot deep inside of you, roughly pressing at the soft spot.

your hips twitch erratically at the newfound pleasure of having your g-spot abused. toji pulls away from your mouth, watching the fucked expression on your face as he dug his fingers further in you. he watches the way your eyes water and your lips pout before parting into a ‘o’ shape. you’re so fucking pretty, he really just cannot help himself. “behave and i’ll let you cum the first time.” he purrs sweetly, pressing a kiss to your parted lips.

toji doesn’t give you a real chance to reply. by the time you’ve barely come to your senses to reply, you feel his hot tongue nudging its way back into you. his fingers pump into you in quick, short pumps as his tongue assaults your asshole. he pulls away to spit harshly onto your open hole, chuckling lowly to himself as it winks back at him. you’re overwhelmed. you’ve never had someone pay so much attention to your ass, let alone lick at it like you’re some kind of dessert. you push your ass further into his face, desperate for the feeling to continue.

you start to feel that burning feeling in your tummy, your heart’s pounding and you temporarily forget you’re outside. you’ve forgotten toji’s words about being quiet but you still find yourself covering your mouth. this feels wrong, but it feels so so good. you sob loudly as a third finger slides into your pussy, glancing back at toji who only meets your gaze. you can see the smugness in his face and it does little to nothing to deter your orgasm. your face pinches, thighs tensing as the burning sensation overcomes you. “‘m gonna- oh fuck!”

the noise that leaves your throat is inhuman. you rock forward at the strength of your orgasm as your cunt flutters around toji’s fingers. you thought he’d stop but you can still feel his fingers pumping in and out of you still. toji’s tongue somehow finds itself deeper into your ass as you cum. the sensation renders you speechless, your voice escaping you. “don’t worry baby we’re not done.” toji shifts behind you, sliding his fingers from your drooling cunt. he presses a wet kiss to your asshole before pulling away completely. he spreads his fingers to watch your slick nearly keep them together, thick strings of cum spreading between each finger.

“don’t spent too much time coming down. i still have to fuck this pretty pussy.” he slaps your pussy for emphasis, laughing when you find your voice again to whine at the pain. "no toji. can't" you mumble into the blanket. your chest moves rapidly as you try to gather yourself. despite your protests, your pussy clenches as the cold air hits you with toji moving out of the way. your hips jut much to your annoyance, hips shifting forward and away from imaginary fingers.

"shh, sweet girl. daddy's gonna give ya what ya need." he murmurs, laughing to himself when your asshole clenched. toji teases your pussy, sliding his fat tip up and down your pretty, drenched pussy. he watches as his tip starts to glisten from your slick, the way his cock slides easily against you from how wet you are. he slaps his cock against you one more time before he decides to pull away, a sly smile tugging at his lips.

he slaps your ass with a sense of finality, gripping your hips. "turn over, baby girl. c'mon. don't make me wait." you push up on shaky arms to turn yourself over. somehow, the top of your sundress had stayed up and you were hoping he'd allow you that sense of conservation. knowing toji, though, he wouldn't. and he didn't. the second you turned over his hand was on the top of your dress, pulling it down to free your tits.

toji palms your tits roughly, pulling at your nipples as he ground his cock against you. his eyes flicker over you, the way your lips are parted and drool escapes them. he watches your lashes flutter as you blink in a futile attempt to become more aware. your dress is a little damp from both of your fluids, and your pussy looks so so pretty in this position. he's won the jackpot, he thinks. if only he married this pussy.

"enough. you ready for this, pretty girl?" you grunt harshly under him, glancing up at him to nod. toji slaps his cock against you one more time before beginning to slide into you. his fat tip begins to press into you, forcing a soft sob from your throat. it's an uncomfortable feeling because he's so big. you've been fucked before—plenty of times—but toji's cock is stretching you wide enough for you to be nervous. he'd had you on your stomach so long you hadn't gotten a chance to see how big he was. clearly, he was big enough to split you in half.

"toji..” you pause to frown up at him. “‘s not gonna fit.” he's nearly as thick as a soda can and long enough for you to be concerned. still, you peek at him through your lashes to beg him to stop or slow down. toji only rolls his eyes. "we're gonna make it fit, pretty baby. can you do that f'me? hmmm?" he settles his hands on either side of you, leaning down to brush his lips over yours. your eyes shift over his face, flickering up to his eyes before slowly making their way down to his lips.

if you hadn't gulped already toji would be convinced you were joking. you were questioning the fit but the way you were squeezing him--the way you gushed, toji knew you weren't scared. his hips shift as he pushes further into you. he smashes his lips against yours before you can cry out, quieting your moans and loud pleas. he knows you can take it because you're his good girl. you'd just have to prove it. "tight fucking cunt." he hisses against your mouth, shifting his hips forward once more. "not even halfway and she's tryna bully me out. why 's that, hm? she too shy? can't take this fucking dick?"

you whine against his lips, sniffling softly as tears begin to spill. "no, no! you're too big, toji. i can't- can't take it! please!" your cries fall on deaf ears as toji presses down on your hips to slide further into you. he watches you squirm with a satisfied grin tugging at his lips. your body is warm and the tears that slip from your eyes are scorching. he watches in pure satisfaction as your cunt clenches tightly around him the further he digs into you. "bet this pussy wasn't shy when you were in college." he tuts at you, releasing one side of your hip to spank your clit.

he relishes the way your hips twitch and your back arches. you're so fucking responsive. "remember your mom said you're a sorority girl. how many times were you gettin' fucked in the bathroom? now you wanna tell me 's too big? you're my little slut, baby. you can take it." you're not gonna tell him when you can take it and, frankly, toji doesn't care. his eyebrows twitch in annoyance at your escalating whines. you've come to your senses because you're pushing at his stomach. your eyes are closed in both discomfort and pleasure, and tears are starting to accumulate on the blanket.

"fucked those college boys with no problem but the second a real man tries to take this pussy you wanna cry." he rolls his eyes in pure irritation, gripping your hips tightly so he can finally slam you down on his cock. he groans in relief as your warmth surrounds him fully. his cock twitches inside of you and he already knows he's fucked. you're so fucking wet, so fucking tight. he can't take it. he moves his hands to slide underneath your thighs, pushing them up so that he has more room.

"move...toji please." your voice is so soft he would've missed it if the wind was blowing. your stepdad tuts at you, spreading your legs further to settle between them. "please what? what's my name?" he watches the conflict in your eyes. you're contemplating if you want to give in (as if you hadn't already). your eyes flutter shut before opening again. "please," you pause, a disgusted frown pulling at your lips. "daddy please? fuck me! i need it- need you so bad."

a warm feeling starts to brew in his chest after your little declaration. toji hadn't given a fuck when your mother mentioned she had an adult daughter but now? god was he grateful he met her. he would've never found this pretty pussy on his own. "since you asked so nicely, princess. gonna take it realll good f'me, huh? slutty fucking pussy." he practically purrs his words to you. toji doesn't bother starting slow, immediately starting with pounding in and out of your cunt.

your cunt makes the nastiest, wettest noise as toji's cock slides in and out of you. he's not going nearly as fast as he wants, but your pussy gushes around him nonetheless. your back arches off the ground as his tip kisses your cervix. he keeps hitting deep inside you every time he pulls out halfway just to fuck right back into you. "oh my god.." you murmur. you shift your hips in an attempt to fuck yourself forward as he continues to pound into you.

"oh my fuck- daddy please! harder! need it!" you're practically sobbing for him to fuck you harder. your fingers press weakly against his stomach and you find yourself unable to decide if you really want him to go harder. your pussy feels so full--you feel so fucking full and you feel like you're going to explode. "whatever you say, baby. been so fucking good." toji leans over, pressing your legs back further. his lips attach to yours in the neediest kiss you've ever taken part of. it's sloppy and desperate and it's so fucking good.

your tongue slides against his in near perfection, one of your hands reaching up to grasp at his hair. you pull him closer to you, jutting your hips against his. toji's pounding is incessant, and your cry against his lips. "let go of my legs, toji. i want you to cum in me." you whine against his lips. toji releases your legs reluctantly, letting you wrap them around his waist. he grunts as you push him impossibly deeper inside of you. "fuck i should've met you sooner." his hisses, pressing down on your stomach. "should've married this fucking cunt. could be inside you for days, keep cumming inside of you, get you pregn- oh fuck!"

you press toji inside of you to keep him there. your fingers grasp his hair tightly, forcing his lips to remain against yours. he's groaning despite your attempts to keep the both of you quiet, his hips beginning to stutter and your fingers beginning to twitch. "then fucking do it. fill me up daddy, please." he laughs against you, pulling back to slam back into you. "yeah, baby. knew this fucking pussy would want me. i knew you'd fucking love this." you nod dumbly, muttering incoherently about how you need him.

toji grips your neck as his hips begin to stutter. your pussy tightens around him and flutters as he nudges your g-spot. every time he pulls back he hits it with perfection only to push forward and kiss your cervix. you need him to cum inside you. you need it the same way you need oxygen. you just want to feel the same warmth you've craved since you met him a week ago. he's right, he should've married you. you'd give him what he wants and more. "is this pretty pussy gonna cum for me?" he's whispering so close to you that you can feel the warmth against your wet lips.

you nod hard and fast, squeezing your eyes shut as the knot in your stomach tightens. you move your hips to no real avail. he's fucked you so stupid you can barely match his rhythm. your pussy almost hurts from the stretch and the overstimulation from your first lingering orgasm. you can feel your asshole flutter whilst your pussy attempts to shut around toji's dick. "ohhh i'm gonna- fuckfuckfuck." you sob your words out, nails clawing angrily at toji's back. he doesn't let up, continuing to fuck harshly into your pussy even as he feels spurts hit the bottom of his stomach. he ignores the fact that you've squirted on his dick, fucking you like he needs it.

"this is what i needed from you. knew you weren't a brat. jus' needed to be fucked." he chuckles, though the joke is lost on you. he watches the way your eyes have rolled. your pretty lips are parted, but no sound leaves them. you're done for and he's about to cum so deep in you that he knows it'll take. toji slams his hips forward, his balls slapping against your ass as he finally cums. he glances down to see the white ring of your cream at the base of his dick, now watching his own cum drip down. he can see your pussy twitch and he presses meanly on your clit just to watch you practically howl.

"too much." you murmur, eyes opening just slightly to see his face. toji presses a kiss to your lips, licking at them to let himself in. he gives you one more sloppy kiss, relishing in the after of the harsh orgasms the two of you had. "you did so good." he coos, pressing kisses to your tear-stained cheeks. "good fucking girl. c'mon, we'll go home so you can take a bath." you grunt, blinking your eyes completely open to watch his face. he was looking at you differently. softer. maybe you'd like having a stepdaddy after all.

[2009isitanyways]

imma be honest celibate sasquatch you gotta lighten the fuck up

[ventismacchiato]

12 stuck with you — kiss kiss fall in love !

scaramouche x gender neutral reader

The ringing of a phone pierces through the quiet and drags you from sleep. Disoriented, you blink at the dim light seeping in through the skylight. The sound was vibrating against the bedside table and as you reached for it half-asleep you felt the unmistakable warmth of someone's body tangled with yours.

Your eyes fly open. Scaramouche.

You feel the way your body tenses up, as it usually does when you’re with the idiot. You turn your face and find him just inches away from yours. The pillow you’d place between you two long gone on the floor as the only thing separating you both was the thin comforter.

For a moment, Scaramouche looks oddly peaceful, with his dark hair tousled against the pillow and his brows not creased in its usual scowl towards you. That’s until his eyes open from the sound and he sends you a glare.

“Shut that up,” he grumbles, sitting up and reaching over you to shut it off himself. His body hovers over you and you can see his shirt hang low enough to see his stomach. The warmth of his body radiates through the thin fabric separating you both, and for a split second, you’re hyper-aware of just how close you are. The gentle weight of him leaning over makes your pulse quicken.

You expected him to make a snide comment about how your legs were still tangled together but he doesn’t. It's as if waking up practically wrapped around each other is just another morning for you two. He doesn't acknowledge it, doesn’t even meet your eyes, and for some reason, that silence makes the moment even more charged.

With the phone in hand, he flops back into his spot beside you, muttering something under his breath, the tension between you two as palpable as the fading echo of the ringtone as he wordlessly lays away from you.

“Fuck do you want you old hag,” Scara grumbles, putting the phone on speaker.

“Good morning!” Yae Miko’s voice is far too cheerful for this hour. “We’ve got a little emergency. Some rumors are starting to circulate about the show being fake.”

Your blood runs cold. “Wait, what?"

"Exactly what it sounds like," Yae continues, almost too calm for the bomb she's dropping. "Which means we need you two to handle it. Get dressed and head to the hot tub. We’ll film a ‘leaked’ kissing scene to throw people off. Make it look real.”

"At five in the morning?" Scaramouche groans, his voice laced with annoyance.

Yae’s voice, ever so sly, comes back through. “Is there a problem? Oh, and don’t forget to make it convincing. The public loves a good scandal!”

You reach over and hang up without answering, already dreading the awkwardness that’s about to unfold. You both lay there for a few minutes, your upcoming fate and lack of sleep not motivating either of you.

“I can see you both slacking off!” Lisa’s voice from the intercoms yell, causing you both to sit up abruptly.

“Fucking perv,” Scara mutters, sliding the comforter off as you follow suit.

“Let’s just get it over with,” you say, avoiding his gaze.

He scoffs but doesn’t argue, instead dragging himself up and throwing on the same outfit from last night. You do the same, trying not to think about the fact that you’ll be practically glued to him in about ten minutes.

By the time you make it to the hot tub, the early morning air bites at your skin, the sky still dark. The hot water looks almost inviting compared to the chill, though the thought of what you’re about to do makes your stomach churn.

You lower yourself into the water, already feeling the tension settle in as Scaramouche follows suit. It’s quiet—too quiet—until he mutters, “So, how are we doing this?”

You sink lower into the water, heat creeping up your neck. "I guess… I sit on your lap, and we angle ourselves so it looks like we're kissing."

He gives you a look, something unreadable flashing in his eyes, before nodding. “Fine.”

“Well, get on with it!” Yae’s voice yells from god knows where.

Reluctantly, you move closer an inch. And then another. And then one more.

“For fucks sake, we’ll be here all day,” Scara huffs, reaching out to slide a hand around your waist and yanking you closer. You yelp at the suddenness as you slide onto his lap. His hands find your waist, holding you steady as your heart pounds in your ears. This position is way more intimate than you’d expected. There was nowhere to look but at him with his chest solid against yours. The steam rising from the water makes the air feel thick.

You tilt your head back, just enough so that it looks like you’re about to kiss, hoping that the camera will get the right angle without you two having to go through with it.

“This is good but while we’re here, why don’t you both just kiss,” Lisa yells from the intercom, "Now that will shut down the rumors.”

Your entire body stiffens at Lisa's suggestion, the weight of her words settling in like stones in your stomach. You shift slightly on Scaramouche’s lap, trying to ignore the situation at hand.

“You’ve got to stop shifting like that,” Scara says under his breath, holding your hips still with his hands. He lets out an annoyed sigh, his grip on your waist tightening just slightly. “Let’s just get it over with,” he mutters, leaning in a little closer, his expression unreadable but tense.

You open your mouth to speak, but the words catch in your throat. Instead, you manage to stammer, “I’ve… never kissed anyone before.”

There’s a beat of silence. You brace yourself, expecting him to make fun of you, to twist this into some new way to tease you relentlessly. Maybe he’ll laugh about how he knew you were a virgin like he usually does or call you pathetic for having no experience.

But that doesn’t happen.

Scaramouche just stares at you, his eyes flickering with something—maybe surprise, maybe something else entirely—but then he simply sighs, and his expression softens just a fraction. If you hadn’t spent so much time glaring at him all your career you wouldn’t have even noticed.

“Fine,” he says, his voice calmer than you expected. “I’ll guide it. Just follow my lead.”

Before you can process what’s happening, he takes one of your hands and places it on his shoulder, the other by his nape. The heat from his skin is almost unbearable in contrast to the cool air, and you can feel the slight tension in his muscles under your fingers.

You swallow hard, unsure of how to respond, the weight of the moment pressing down on you. But Scaramouche’s eyes are steady on yours, his lips close enough that you can feel his breath on your skin.

“Relax,” he murmurs, as if that’s an easy thing to do. His hand on your waist moves up slightly, settling just beneath your ribs, grounding you as he tilts his head a fraction closer. “It’s not that hard, dumbass”

Your body feels like it’s caught in two different worlds—one of panic and another of dizzying anticipation. You’ve never been this close to anyone, let alone someone you’ve spent so much time despising. But there’s no mockery in his gaze now, no smug grin. Just a quiet, unspoken agreement between the two of you to get this over with.

The last thing you see before shutting your eyes are Scara’s lips, which fall gently open the moment he leans in to kiss yours.

Scaramouche closes the distance, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, hesitant way. It’s not like you imagined a kiss would feel. It’s… gentle, almost patient, like he’s allowing you the time to catch up. His hand shifts, guiding you closer as the kiss deepens, but not by much—just enough to make the world outside of this moment blur.

Your body, tense from anticipation, crumbles into abandon. The beat of your heart is too loud in your chest, emotions lodged in your throat, and soft dark hair curling through the spaces between your fingers.

You find yourself following his lead without thinking, your fingers tightening slightly against the back of his neck as you lean into the kiss. There’s no rush, no urgency. It’s almost like he’s teaching you without words, each movement purposeful but slow, as if he’s trying not to overwhelm you. It’s a contrast to his usual demeanor, where he seemed like he was always one step ahead. He seemed so out of reach.

But now here he was, barely an inch away from you and letting you catch up.

When he finally pulls back, it’s only by a few inches, and his gaze lingers on your lips before flicking back up to your eyes.

“There,” he says, his voice quieter now. “Wasn’t so bad, was it?”

You’re too stunned to respond right away, the world around you coming back into focus in slow motion. The water, the cold air, the fact that this was all supposed to be for show. But for a moment, you’d forgotten that.

“No,” you finally manage, your voice barely above a whisper. “I guess not.”

“Your lips were chapped,” Scaramouche adds with a smirk, because of course he does. The teasing lilt in his voice grates on you, breaking the moment that had felt so strangely…intimate.

Without hesitation, you flick his forehead, the satisfying thunk earning a small grunt from him. Before he can retaliate, you quickly slide off his lap, distancing yourself in the water. The warmth of the hot tub is nothing compared to the heat still lingering on your face.

“That was GREAT,” Yae’s voice screeches through the intercom, cutting through the awkwardness like a knife. “THAT TWITTER USER CAN EAT MY ASS!”

You can practically see her smug grin, and it makes you groan internally. Great. Now your first kiss is going to be broadcast as a PR stunt to shut down rumors. You shift uncomfortably, trying to push down the strange mix of emotions swirling in your chest—annoyance, disbelief, and something you can’t quite place. Your lips still tingle from the kiss that wasn’t even supposed to happen.

Yae gives the signal that they’ve got the footage they need so you get ready to leave. As you move to climb out of the tub, Scaramouche stays behind, seemingly unfazed. You’re doing your best to ignore him, but his voice cuts through the steam and your scattered thoughts.

“It doesn’t have to count.”

You pause, turning your head slightly. “What?”

“The kiss,” he says, his tone almost casual, like this whole conversation is no big deal. “If first kisses are something stupid you care about… this one doesn’t have to count.”

You blink at him, trying to process his words. “What are you talking about?”

Scaramouche’s gaze flickers over to you, his face unreadable but his voice softening just a bit. “Your real first kiss can be with someone you actually care about. Doesn’t have to be this.” He gestures vaguely between you two, as if the kiss you just shared is nothing more than a contractual obligation—just part of the game. Which it was. But at the end of the day it was still your first kiss.

You stare at him, trying to make sense of the words he just said, of the way his tone has softened like he’s actually trying to spare you something for once.

“It was still my first,” you mutter, more to yourself than to him.

Scaramouche's eyes flicker, a shadow of something crossing his face before his expression hardens again. He leans his head back against the edge of the tub, arms crossing over his chest. “Look,” he starts, his voice dropping to that low, lazy tone he uses when he’s about to say something he knows is going to piss you off. “I know I’m an asshole most of the time—”

“Most of the time?” you cut in, eyebrow raised.

He glares at you, but there’s no real heat in it. “Shut up and let me finish, will you?”

You bite back the retort bubbling in your throat, nodding slightly for him to continue.

“I’m an asshole, yeah,” he says again, a little slower this time. “But I’m not that much of an asshole. If… if this is something that matters to you, then don’t let it. You can still have your real first kiss with someone who—” He hesitates, eyes shifting to the side for a second, and you could swear you see the faintest hint of uncertainty in his gaze before he forces it away. “—someone who means something to you.”

The words hang in the air between you, thick and heavy with something unspoken. You can’t tell if he’s saying it because he genuinely believes it or if he’s just trying to make this whole mess easier for you. Either way, it’s not like him to care, and that fact alone makes your chest tighten with confusion. Maybe he just pitied you.

“Anyway, don’t get all emotional about it,” he adds, his voice back to its usual flippant tone. “I’m not gonna hold your hand through it.”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” you snap back, but there’s no bite to your words. Instead, you’re left with the lingering thought of what he just said, the weight of his strange attempt at comfort settling in your chest.

Before you can say anything else, Scaramouche pushes himself up from the water, his hands gripping the edge of the tub as he turns his back to you. “Let’s just get out of here before Yae comes up with another stupid idea.”

This was what you’d expected. Scaramouche being uncomfortable with you both being so close and you feeling sick at the thought. There was a kind of comfort in predictability, and you and Scara’s relationship was so goddamn predictable.

[00:00:00] KISS INTERVIEW ONE, TAKE ONE

YAE: So, tell us all about that little kiss that got leaked!

SCARAMOUCHE: It was alright. YAE: [GESTURES FOR HIM TO KEEP GOING]

SCARAMOUCHE: It was great and…[SQUINTS AT SIGN YAE IS HOLDING] life changing, their lips were soft as flower petals and…Yae this is stupid, I’m not reading this. Who wrote this? It’s terrible.

YAE: I wrote it! It’s romantic!

SCARAMOUCHE: It’s gross. Who the hell describes a kiss like this?

JEAN, SIGHING: Why don’t you use your own words to describe it? SCARAMOUCHE: Fake. 

JEAN: Cut!

[00:17:38] KISS INTERVIEW ONE, TAKE TWO

YAE: Let’s try this again. Can you describe the kiss in your own words?

SCARAMOUCHE: It wasn’t planned, okay? It just…I don’t know.

YAE: That’s all you’re giving us? C’mon, this is your big moment. Tell the fans something juicy!

SCARAMOUCHE: [EXHALES SHARPLY, LOOKS AWAY] I don’t know… I guess I… I feel bad about it.

YAE: Bad? Why would you feel bad? Was the kiss not good?

SCARAMOUCHE: [RUNS A HAND THROUGH HIS HAIR, HESITATES] I’m not the kind of guy people would want their first kiss with. And, yeah… it was their first. I know it was supposed to be this whole act, but I… I shouldn’t have taken that from them, not like that.

YAE: [RAISES AN EYEBROW] So, you actually care?

SCARAMOUCHE: [AVERTS EYES] Care? I… [PAUSES] No. Maybe. It just wasn’t fair to them, that’s all.

LISA: When you say “not like that” do you mean you wished you’d kissed them in a different setting?

SCARAMOUCHE: [GLARES AT LISA] I’m not answering something stupid as that.

YAE: Oh, come on! This is what everyone wants to know. Don’t you think the fans deserve a little honesty?

SCARAMOUCHE: [CROSSES HIS ARMS] I’ve given you plenty. I already told you, it wasn’t fair to them. Isn’t that enough?

LISA: [SMILING] Just admit it—you’re dodging because you actually feel something.

SCARAMOUCHE: [LEANS BACK, SIGHING] Look, if you’re expecting some big confession, you’re wasting your time. It was a job. That’s it. 

YAE: [SHARING A SMIRK WITH LISA] Right, because I also kiss my coworkers passionately all in the name of “just doing my job.”

[00:00:00] KISS INTERVIEW TWO, TAKE ONE

YAE: Alright, Y/N, let’s dive in! 

Y/N: [FROWNS AT CARD] Why does the thingy say kiss this time?

YAE: Because we all want to know what went down in the hot tub with Scara! 

Y/N: [SQUINTS AT YAE'S SIGN] I can’t even read the script you’re holding. My eyesight’s terrible. Does that seriously say, “His lips felt like heaven?”

YAE: [GRINNING] Yes! It’s good, right? Very romantic!

Y/N: [RAISES AN EYEBROW] Romantic? It sounds like something out of a cheap romance novel.

YAE: [GIGGLING] Well, Scara said my writing was terrible too. You two are totally synced, it seems.

JEAN: [SIGHS AND PLACES HER HEAD IN HER HANDS] We might be here a while…

YAE: Cut! Alright, let’s reset. [DEEP BREATH] Take two.

[00:05:43] KISS INTERVIEW TWO, TAKE TWO

YAE: [ROLLING HER EYES] Okay, just… talk about how hot his body was or something. Give the fans what they want!

Y/N: [STRAIGHT-FACED] I’d rather not.

LISA: [GIGGLES] Then maybe just tell us what it was like losing your first kiss to him.

JEAN: Lisa! That’s kind of insensitive…

Y/N: [SHRUGS] It’s fine. Surprisingly, I’m not that mad about it. I’ve known Scara for years, so… at least it wasn’t with some stranger.

YAE: [GIGGLING, LEANING IN] So… was it any good?

Y/N: [ROLLS EYES] I mean, I don’t exactly have anything to compare it to.

YAE: [TEASING] So you’re saying he set the bar?

Y/N: [CROSSES ARMS, SHRUGS] I’m saying I survived. Let’s leave it at that.

JEAN: [UNDER HER BREATH] Why do I feel like we’re making this worse? 

LISA: [CHUCKLING] Because we probably are.

[00:00:00] BEACH INTERVIEW ONE, TAKE ONE

YAE: So, Childe, tell us—how are you enjoying the beach so far? Getting some time to unwind?

CHILDE: [SMILING] Yeah, it’s been nice. But it’s a little too quiet without Scara and Y/N bickering in the background. You’d think I’d enjoy the peace, but… kinda miss the chaos, you know?

YAE: [CHUCKLES] Oh? Seems like you got used to it. How’s everyone managing without Scara?

CHILDE: Well, he was the best cook, surprisingly. So now everyone’s struggling. Dinner last night was... [SHUDDERS] Let’s just say nobody knew how to work the stove.

YAE: [LAUGHS] Sounds rough. So, I have to ask—any romance brewing in the group?

CHILDE: [GRINS, LEANS IN] Between you and me, I keep seeing Xiao and Kazuha sneaking off for these little “walks” along the shore. But hey, maybe they’re just out there for a smoke or something. 

JEAN: [OFF-CAMERA, SIGHS] Childe, don’t bring up smoking!

CHILDE: Right, right! I mean, they’re, uh… stargazing. Totally innocent. Just two guys appreciating the stars.

YAE: Cut!

stuck with you!

masterlist — prev | next

lmk if the written portion below pic helped, if i’m able to fit in it i’ll include it from now on

a few tags don’t work anymore so if u wanna be in the taglist lmk in the comments and ill keep it in mind

pls comment or send me an ask if u enjoyed i need motivation 🙂‍↕️

comment on the MASTERLIST if i can use ur user as a fan in the au!

synopsis — after the disaster that was the live award show, where you and scaramouche got into an argument on stage after both of your groups got a tie for top artists, your guys' PR teams have been in shambles trying to scrape up your mess. that's when the idea to send you both off with some other idols to a remote location for a survival dating show to mend your public image comes up. before you know it your bags are packed and you’re on a plane to a remote island. the only obligation is you need to end up with scaramouche at the end of the show, whether you end up liking him or not doesn’t matter to your managers as long as the show’s ratings stay high. whatever you do in between to get there is up to you!

notes — i rlly do wanna update more but college is kicking my ass so pls be patient with me :’) my semester ends in a few weeks and then next spring my classes won’t end at 7pm every night so i should have more free time 🙂‍↕️

taglist — @na1lea @cindywasneverhere @lunavixia @aestherin @mlaakai @camvrin @retiredmommylover @iheartpieck @jangyung @cartierfiles @loveariel @silly-ez @mochipls @pomeiu @chuuismylife @flowerypesky @creammpuff @justanothertiredreader @boxdisappeared @kissingkzuha @webbywill @kazusboyfriend @s3xpistolss @pjsucks @bunns-wonderland @lordbugs @localgirlywithnolife @kosumos @danfelions @featuredtofu @pinxeajin @herebyaccident0 @haeunoo @scaradooche @pglt19 @chemiru @childesbabygirl @simonisferal @shutingstar @ttalgi @esuz @tokkishouse @kitsuvil @scarasmood @ihearttori @nomurahayami @starringyau @androxphobic @reivelmin @animeobsessed56 @femaholicc

[eddiernunson]

Waiting Room Problems | Eddie Munson x fem!Reader | 18+ |

Summary: a rough landing in a fight with your brother causes you to land in a crowded waiting room. Meanwhile a rough deal also sends Eddie the same fate. Somehow, somehow you try to keep your eyes on your phone and off his tiny little waist. It proves... difficult.

Warnings: strangers to lovers, fleeting glances, slightly cocky Eddie, sex in a public bathroom (trust me on this, just trust me), and general horniness at Eddie's general appearance, unprotected piv, against the wall fucking, deep throating, daddy kink

Authors note: I just spent 8 hours last night (when | wrote this) in the fucking waiting room. At two hours in a guy came in and he radiated Eddie's energy so my mind ran away with it. (Everything is ok).

Thanks for the hype on the preview! Hopefully this lives up to the hype

Thanks so much to @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you for editing bestie ❤️

As the night swallows you whole, you sit in your mom’s passenger seat of her car as she drives you to the ER. While roughhousing with your older brother you landed on your hand wrong and bent it way back. It’s definitely not broken, but it for sure needs to be looked at.

As the lights of the night pass you by, you insist you’re fine and the sprain will heal after a few days. Your mom, however, was having none of it as you rolled your eyes in exasperation.

She’s as stubborn as you are, so you sit arms crossed as you know you have no choice. Ouch, ok, crossing your arms was a bad idea.

She wishes you well, her kind eyes wide as she leans over to ask you to keep her updated. You can’t help it, slamming the door after letting her know you will. You should’ve been enjoying some spiked eggnog and watching holiday movies, but now you’re spending Christmas Eve in the ER.

The large window to the waiting room lets you know there’s already a long line up just waiting for the triage and most seats are taken. Fuck, you’re in for a long night.

The kind and sunny nurse takes your vitals and information, gently assessing your symptoms and palpating your wrist carefully. She lets you know it’s definitely sprained and will need a gauze wrap.

Soon, you find yourself sitting in a brown, cracked, leather chair sitting close to a man who is coughing up a lung and groaning in pain after each bout. Not that there are many options to begin with.

Your phone in your hand and your charger in your bag, you sit comfortably and wait for your name to get called as you look at memes and watch videos with one headphone in.

Ninety minutes goes by while your best friend texts you to keep you busy and entertained, not even noticing you’ve been waiting for so long. Thank god for her.

For the first time in a while, you look up to assess the state of the waiting room. As far as you recall, about five people have been called to the back. Those seats have been replaced with new patients and their support, what seems to be a never-ending cycle.

Your eyes flick to someone who walks into the line that is long enough to extend into the hallway, stepping up a place in line and finally into the actual waiting room. Your eyes scan him, the boots, the ripped jeans, the leather jacket covering a graphic tee, all leading up to his shaggy brown hair and gorgeous face.

Your mouth partially opens, momentarily taken aback by how unbelievably hot he is. There doesn’t seem to be anything wrong, at least, until you notice the tear in his shirt peeking at white gauze on his torso. From the stain, it’s clear he was injured.

His face doesn’t reflect such, patiently waiting as the two triage nurses take their time. By the third time he blinks, you realize you’ve been staring and shift your eyes back down to your phone.

As the line moves, his boots in the corner of your eye, you grow increasingly aware of how much you want to continue staring at him. Something about him is just so enticing, drawing you in. Especially his lack of response to a wound as such.

Time passes on and soon you find yourself bored of the videos and turn on your Spotify to the comfort playlist. Your eyes flicker to the triage station, wandering around the room aimlessly. Unfortunately, it lands on the stranger you’ve been lingering on and witnesses him lifting his shirt to show the nurse the reason for his visit.

The black shirt lifts to show a slim waist scattered in black and grey tattoos, lifting the white gauze to reveal a gnarly wound. You can’t tell but from its shape it looks to be a stab wound. However gory his uncovered wound looks; you can’t help but stare at his bare torso.

Then, it fucking happens. His eyes flicker to you, for a fraction of second, he keeps the eye contact. His mouth twitches, leaning into something you’d call a smirk. As a reflex you shift your eyes away from him, cheeks heating up in embarrassment from getting caught.

You spend the next few minutes convincing yourself that it was all in your head, and that for all he knew you were zoned out and happened to be zoned out on him. It feels like a reach, especially with his torso as revealed as it was.

Time itself blurs as you zone out on your phone, attempting to distract yourself from your thumping heart and the arousal that pools into your cotton underwear. A shift in movement catches your eye, blurred and black in your periphery.

Your eyes by reflex glance up, catching a glimpse of him slouching in his chair, a foot resting on the other as knee he uses wired headphones and stares at whatever’s on his phone. Somehow, his confidence at making himself at home is still attractive, drool gathering in your mouth.

You look down at your phone before he catches you again, this visit at the ER sending a thrill through you that you didn’t expect in the least.

More and more people get called to the back, and you're still stuck waiting. Everyone who you’ve told is surprised to say the least that it’s been hours and you’re still just in the waiting room. You don’t mind though, sneaking glances at the beautiful stranger has become your favourite pastime.

Four hours in, if someone asked your highlight it would be when he head-banged to whatever assumingly heavy metal band he listens to. By the time the nurse calls your name to the back, it takes a strong second place.

About twenty minutes pass before it’s your turn for a bed, and you are let your eyes wander around, now bored of your phone. As they do, they catch sight of the man you’ve kept an eye on yawning in a big stretch. What this yawn has you so captivated by is the sliver of skin his stretch reveals, and the curly brown treasure trail that peeks from just above the hem of his low sitting jeans.

Your mouth floods with saliva. With your mouth agape and eyes subtly widened, you can’t help but gawk at him. Something about the way you suddenly picture yourself pulling him into the bathroom to nuzzle into his hair takes you aback just a little bit.

Time slows down for you, stretching into hours, but it's only seconds. Finally, as his body relaxes from the stretch you turn your eyes back to his face, hoping he didn’t see your fleeting glance. Startlingly, his eyes are already on yours. This time you can’t find it in you to look away in embarrassment. As if reading your mind, he smirks right at you, and you swear his brown eyes darken a shade.

This time for sure, he caught you. He doesn’t seem to care one way or the other, arms crossing over his chest as he keeps his smug expression right on you.

It’s hard to resist the smile as you go back to your phone, promising to yourself that you will remember his face for as long as you can.

-

Eddie thanks Gareth for dropping him off at the hospital, gritting his teeth at the slight pain stretching his torso gives him.

As he wanders into the hospital, his eyes take in the crowded waiting room and he groans, wishing the wound wasn’t so fucking deep.

He got stabbed. He got fucking stabbed. Wayne is going to kill him when he finds out he got into a fight, especially one where knives were in the crossfire. He couldn’t even say how the situation got so heated so quickly, just another fight in a parking lot after a deal goes sour.

The guy pulled a fucking knife on him, pushed it into his torso and ran off with the goods before Eddie could even realize he had been harmed.

All for fucking weed. Wasn’t even cocaine!

It takes a stupid amount of time for him to finally get to the nurse. She tells him to sit down for his vitals, and he refuses, wanting to show the wound and get it out of the way.

He lifts his shirt at her request, showing the darkened gauze and hissing as she takes a closer look at the wound when it’s removed. Eddie realizes the irony of exposing his chest in the triage, looking up to face the windows that allow other patients to see through.

He does a quick scan of the room, no one having seemed to notice how he’s shirtless. No one, but you. He saw you when he walked in, you were on your phone with one earbud in as you tapped your feet to whatever beat you were listening to. He thought you were cute, his mouth twitching in a smile as he notices you’re cradling one arm across your chest.

It couldn’t have been confused with zoning out, your mouth in a small O shape you openly stare at him. The look you have on your face is enough to turn Eddie on a little, having the urge to caress your face as you look up at him with those same wide eyes. His mouth twitches as he thinks of it, the thought enough to distract him from the shooting pain in his chest.

Your eyes dart away as soon as it registers that he’s looking back at you. His smile widens even more as you sink in your seat, your eyes glazing over as you scroll through your phone. Made him want to embarrass you more, in much worse ways.

After the nurse takes his vitals, he’s instructed to sit down, thanking some deity that the seat across from you is freed. You’re keeping yourself distracted, much to his dismay, so kicks his shoe to grab your attention, placing it on his other knee.

It works as well as he hopes, your eyes flickering up to him. He can’t help but look as if he can’t be bothered. In the corner of his eye, you look back to your own phone, biting your lip.

Eddie spends the next little bit getting your attention however he can, wondering how much it takes for your eyes to wander back to him. By trial and error, not much. He turns on a heavy metal band, nodding his head enthusiastically to the loud drum beats.

As time goes on, he gets more bored and waits impatiently for his name to be called. He figured stitches would be a priority, no? It’s past his bedtime, he decides, as he yawns a big stretch, despite the pain he causes for himself.

As he does, he catches the way your eyes are glued to him, particularly the strip of skin his shirt lifts to show. In real time, Eddie witnesses your eyes glaze over and how your teeth nervously graze your bottom lip. Whatever was on your mind, he desperately wanted to know, mesmerized at the way your throat swallows.

Finally, you make eye contact with him, and Eddie needs to let you know how much he just saw, your lust for him clear as day. He can’t lie, the feeling is entirely mutual, the look on your face is something he wants to see over and over as he rails— he’s getting ahead of himself.

Instead, he opts for a smirk, admiring the way your pretty eyes hold his gaze this time. He relaxes back into his chair, daring you to say something as he smiles with a hint of satisfaction…and all the cockiness his body can handle.

You shyly look back at your phone, failing to hide the smile that invades your face. It takes Eddie a moment to gain the courage, but he finally decides he can’t let you go if he's nursing a hard on in the fucking waiting room from your gaze alone.

By the time he finds a pen and paper to give your number, he’s writing it down when the nurse calls your name.

Eddie sighs, watching your ass in those jeans as you walk away. Just his luck.

-

As the new year passes, the memory of the hot stranger in the waiting room fades, much to your dismay.

The very night you had a dream where he meets you in some sort of dark room, tugging down your jeans you were wearing and wrapping those hands around your neck as he fucked you from behind.

Your hyperventilating mixed with the way your cunt spasmed as you came woke you up, taking a minute to catch your breath. That morning you groaned in frustration, wanting nothing more but to track him down.

Days passed and soon you’re in the grocery store, arm still wrapped for another week as you walk around the store for some basics. Milk, eggs, bread, all on your mother’s tab, of course. You were two seconds away from pushing your small cart to the checkout counter when you remember you're out of mouthwash.

As you try to decide whether to grab the one you liked which was not on sale or the one that was, a set of footsteps pass and settle right next to you, the customer also assessing mouth hygiene products.

The person's foot tapped, and by reflex you switch your glance down to the sound, and immediately recognize the boots. Your head moves up so fast you swear you give yourself whiplash to his face, facing the shaggy locks you found yourself obsessed with that night in the ER.

“Oh shit” you say out loud, before you could even stop it.

His eyes flicker to yours and recognize you off the bat. His smile gives way to deep dimples. He’s exactly as hot as you remember, if not more.

Of course, you can’t find it in yourself to assume he recognizes you, even if his eyes spell it out for you. “Sorry, I-I just remember you from the ER last month. How’s that stab wound?”

He chuckles, something that makes your legs clench together. “Uh, it’s better.” He comments, lifting his shirt to demonstrate. Is it unnecessary for Eddie to show his stitches? Absolutely. Did he do it for the visual reaction he missed so much? Also, yes.

Unfortunately, his bare waist is gone as soon as it appears, barely giving you a second to take in the purple stitches. You bite your lip as you glance at his face, his smirk displayed almost driving a whimper out of you.

“How’s your arm?”

“What?” You ask, incredibly distracted by the everything about him.

He chuckles pointing to the wrapped arm you can’t use as you shopped but to push the cart. “Oh, one more week then I’m free.” You comment, indicating the gauze.

“That’s good.” He comments, switching his glance back to the toothbrushes he was glancing at earlier.

How are you already messing this up? Might as well cut your losses. “Alright, nice seeing you, again.”

“Whoa, whoa.” He says, grabbing at your uninjured arm before you make your hasty exit. Your eyes peer at him curiously, wondering what he could’ve possibly wanted. “Here,”

His hands move to the leather jacket and grab a folded piece of paper to hand out to you. “What’s that?”

“My number” he answers, stating the obvious. “Shoot me a text, call me, I don’t care. Just do it. Please.”

“You’re really giving your number on a piece of paper?” You ask, tilting your head and forgetting your nervousness for two seconds. “What is this, 1986?”

He laughs, deep and whole, and for some reason it causes a heart palpitation. “Yeah, I guess I am. I planned on giving it to you at the ER, but the nurse whisked you away before I could.”

“Huh?” You ask, your brain short circuiting.

He laughs again as you accept the number, your hands holding onto it tightly as if it might disappear. He picks a toothbrush, seemingly at random and examines it, shrugging as he tosses it into his basket. “Call me,” he says, winking, and walks away from where he came from.

As he walks away, his cologne invades your senses, breath stuttering as you breathe him in. Oh, you are definitely calling him.

As soon as you’re checked out, you find yourself having to use the bathroom, so you wander to the back of the store and down the hall where the single unisex bathroom is.

It’s locked, so you check your phone as you wait, leg shaking to distract yourself from the need. When the bathroom door opens, you look up to face the patron and your brain deflates.

“Holy shit.” You gasp, facing the kind stranger, whose name you learned is Eddie from the number he gave you. You stare at one another, taking each other in, your breath heavy and your heartbeat in your ears. Why were you here, again?

Instantaneously, his hands are grabbing at the fabric of your winter jacket, tugging you forward as he places his lips on yours. Your bags drop from your hands as you gasp in surprise, your brain taking a moment to catch up.

As soon as it does, you grab onto his jacket and kiss him back, meeting his enthusiasm feverishly. His tongue darts out to meet yours, you accept it wholeheartedly, taking in how weak his lips alone make you feel.

Eddie starts to pull you backwards and into the bathroom. As soon as the door is closed, you’re pushed up against the wall, whimpering as he moves his body against you. “Fuck.” He whispers against your lips, taking a moment to catch his breath.

You hum in response, lips reaching for him again. As you do, your hands sneak past his jacket and onto his t-shirt, clutching at the fabric as you finally feel up his torso.

“Nuh uh.” He tsks, pulling back from you. When you pout, he laughs and gives you a look of pity. “I just gotta know one thing, there, sweetheart.”

“Anything.” You promise, not knowing what you’re getting into. You just wanted his lips back on yours.

“Anything, huh?” He asks, slightly taunting you. “Okay.” He leans down, breathing down your neck as he places his lips by your ear. “What were you thinking about in that waiting room while you ogled me, sweetheart?”

Okay, not that. You sigh in embarrassment, learning he knew exactly what you were thinking while you gawked at his chest, gawked at him.

“Don’t act all embarrassed, now.” He chides, observing how your eyes widen just how he remembered. “Tell me. Tell me and we’ll do every raunchy little thing that pretty brain came up with.” He taps the tip of your nose gently with the pad of his finger. You wish he'd shove it past your lips.

Your eyes widen as the arousal floods the panties you wear. All you can do is breathe hard and attempt to find the words.

“Let me help you.” He says, shifting his weight against you slightly. “Was it my hands down those tight ass jeans you were wearing?” You gasp as his fingers barely graze your jeans’ waistband. “Or even better was my tongue on that wet cunt of yours?” You shake your head no, as much as you wanted both of those things. You didn’t even get that far. “Were you on your pretty knees?” Finally, you nod, confirming exactly what you were thinking about.

“Your cock was down my throat while I nuzzled your…” you trail off, lifting his shirt to see the patch of hair again, “oh my god.”

He chuckles, rewarding you with a wet and dirty kiss. All too soon, he pulls away. “Then what, baby?”

Your mind is dumb, trying to come up with it. “Then…then you bent me over and fucked me—” you whine as his knee bucks up between your legs and makes harsh contact with your cunt, “with your hand around my throat.”

“Jesus Christ,” he swears, teeth gritted as he gives you a look at screams with lust. “Believe me, if you asked, I would’ve.”

“Yeah?” You ask, licking your lips as your head leans back into the door. “What about your cut?”

“To hell with my cut! I had a pretty girl practically giving me the eyes, you think I care about some little scratch?”

You stare at him in disbelief, your body and breaths stilling for a minute. “Then do it.”

Eddie smirks at you, and you stare at his pretty pink lips as he leans in and kisses you, both impossibly dirty and sweet simultaneously. Eddie’s knee contacts your cunt again, this time forcing a moan out your lips. Blindly you move your hand down his chest, finally gripping the hard-on straining against the fabric of his jeans.

He gives you his first moan, a sound that opens the floodgates. “Wanna get on those knees for me, baby?”

You nod, giving one last kiss to the spot where his jaw meets his neck. Slowly, you kiss your way down his body where finally you find yourself face to face with the cock that’s pushing its way out of his pants. You fumble with the button for a second before you finally reveal him, and it’s so much better than you could’ve imagined.

So much bigger, too.

You smile up at him through your eyelashes, grateful for fates allowing you in the same place at the same time. He places his hand under your chin, licking his lips as he examines your expression of desire. “Suck my cock, baby.”

You eye his treasure trail, dipping your nose into it as you inhale his musk, uninjured hand wrapping around his thick girth. You mewl at the scent; the aroma is even better than you had imagined. One of his large hands slides itself gently along your cheek, his long thumb stroking at the apple of your sweet smile. You stare up at him, kissing the underside of the head of his cock with wet lips. Your tongue pokes out, flat as you lick it slowly, taking your sweet time, admiring the way he lets out whimpers.

“Oh…shit.”

This urges you to wrap your lips around the head, your cheeks hollowing out as you suck on it gently. You take your lips off him, spitting the excess saliva in your mouth onto his shaft, your hand slowly moves up and down, jerking his length to spread the slick along his cock. The shine is pretty, the spit accentuating the pink blush.

“Pretty cock,” you compliment him, laughing breathily as you go cross-eyed just staring at it. “Tastes better than I thought it would.”

“Did you think about tasting my cock, sweet girl?”

You wrap your lips around him again, bobbing your head up and down as you confirm what he asked with a simple hum. He’s big, the tip hitting the back of your mouth and that wasn’t even half of it. You choke on him, the guttural sounds echoing loudly against the tiled walls. A want of more of him in your mouth invades your mind, not tasting nearly enough of him.

You attempt to take in more of him, choking on it even more but struggling to, despite the desperate need. “Settle down, sweet girl,” he mutters, harshly brushing his fingers against your cheek as he peers down at you. “Relax your throat. Take all those tense muscles and relax ‘em.” You think about it, letting those reflexes remain tense to rest. You’re holding back more saliva, but you fail to realize it until your mouth is flooded with spit, overflowing past the barrier of your lips. “Oh, good girl.”

It's alien but mind numbingly arousing as you feel him move down your throat, moaning around him. His fingers comb through your hair, and roughly move against your scalp. “That’s it, breathe through your nose, sweets.”

The heel of his palms rest on your forehead, moving you up and down his cock. You find it stupidly easy to submit to him, the tip hitting roughly against the back of your throat. His groans are louder than the guck, guck, guck that are hitting wall to wall against the tiles. He’s brutal about it, increasing his speed from 0 to 100 quick as a thought.

Hot tears spill over your water line down your cheeks, trailing the makeup you wear down to your throat. Your hands weave themselves against the cotton of his t-shirt, fighting to keep letting him fuck your throat. “You’re so damn good at this, sweetheart, pretty little mouth working so well.”

He finally lets go, poking his cock against the inside of your cheek one last time, appreciating the swell as the glistening from your tears shine on your face. He uses his thumb to lift your chin up to him, his darkened eyes raking over your face. His pink lips parted, his dilated pupils, the heaving of his chest, there’s nothing you’d want more than to earn this gaze again. “C’mere.”

He lifts you by your chin up to kiss you, dirtily lacing his tongue against yours. “What a good girl you are, taking it so well.” A smile lights up your face from his praise. He tugs you back in for another one, a hum vibrating against his lips. A hand of his trails down your body, single handedly unbuttoning your jeans. “Good work like that deserves a reward, hmm?”

His large hand moves past the opened fly and works itself against your panties. A gasp escapes your mouth only at the touch of his fingers on your covered folds, mewling as he keeps his eyes trained on yours. He’s not even really moving them against you, but just his touch gives you some of the pressure you needed. “Christ, you’re wet,” he comments, dipping his head to work his tongue against your pulse. “Choking on my cock really got you off, huh?”

You nod, eagerly agreeing with him. “So big.”

He smirks, pressing pressure on your clothed folds, in small circles. “You like my big cock, huh? Is it as big as you thought it would be?”

“Bigger,” you gasp, hands grabbing on any clothes he wears anxiously.

His finger easily moves the fabric aside, finger attaching itself right to your clit. The pleasure is good, eyes fluttering closed as it grows startlingly fast. “Fuck,” you swear, your voice rough. “Eddie.”

“Hmm, close?” You nod, despite the embarrassment that floods your senses. “I haven’t even started to touch you yet, baby. I still wanted to feel that tight pussy wrapped around my fingers.”

His actions mimic his words, inserting two fingers hastily into you, moving them expertly as they fuck you. With how wet you are, his two digits slide in easily. They’re long, reaching a depth in you that you could only dream about. You gush around him, music to his ears as your whimpers grow more and more pathetic. His thumb touches your clit again, rubbing frantically.

You gasp, mewling as his teeth start to nibble skillfully along the length of your neck. “Oh my god.”

Eddie’s tongue licks a sinfully long stripe up your neck to your ear, his voice intense and husky. “Cum all over my fingers, sweetheart, make a fucking mess for me.” Your hand tangles into his hair, gripping at his root. You stutter through a sentence of whines and half-finished words, failing to convey how good his fucking fingers make you feel. “So pathetic, huh?”

The words that you wanted to say were, you make me feel so good. Instead, you say, “M-ak-m, so-so good.”

Your good arm wraps itself around his shoulders, pulling his body against yours. Against your better judgment, your other hand moves his chin so your lips kiss his desperately, wanting every wet touch of them on yours. Your whimper into his mouth, pussy fluttering around his fingers as you finally cum, drenching his fingers just as he had requested.

“There she is,” he mutters, his flat palm moving under your jacket and shirt and grazing gently along your bare torso.

It takes you a second to recover from it, still feeling the effects of it throughout your body as it lingers. You unzip your jacket, letting it fall on the bathroom floor. You can’t find it in yourself to care for the moment, but it will find itself in the wash later. As it’s a walk-in bathroom, there are poles next and adjacent to the toilet. Perfect.

“Fuck me?” You ask, eyes glazed over as they reach his.

He chuckles, hands landing on your hips. Your jeans are pushed down your legs, resting just below your knees. “I thought you'd never ask, sweets.”

You grin, pushing his jacket off his shoulders onto the floor. Before it even hits the floor, you grab onto the fabric of his shirt and step backward over your own jacket to pull him across the room to the said metal bar installed on the wall.

His fingers slink into his pocket that’s now down his leg, holding a condom between you and him. You pick it up from his fingers and fling it across the room. “I’m on birth control.”

Eddie’s hands grab under your legs when your back hits the wall, supporting you surprisingly well as your ass rests on his forearms.

He sighs, eyes half mooned as he stares down at you. “My arms are occupied, mind helping me out here?”

You giggle, spitting on your hand and grabbing between the two of you at the cock that keeps brushing against your inner thigh, moving it against your entrance. It slides in easily, the mushroom tip pushing in as two of you moan in sync. Your hand moves to the bar on the wall, starting to help him as you lean some of your weight onto it.

“How is your pussy even better than I thought it’d be?” Eddie asks, gasping in uneven breaths.

“So, so full,” you gasp back, his size far bigger than you’ve ever had. “So big.”

“You’re fucking tight, sweets.” He mutters, jaw dropping as he watches you watching him.

“Move.” You urge him, the stretch too much yet his still hips are driving you crazy. “Need you to move,” It comes out as a pathetic whine and you know it, but you’re long past caring at this point.

“Say no more,” Eddie mutters, starting to move slowly, his hips rolling perfectly against you.

He hits deep and he hits hard. “Just like that! Fuck!”

“Your pussy, fuck, baby, yours is just a new fucking standard!”

You curl into his neck, nipping and starting to mark the pale skin with purple, teeth digging in harder the faster and harder he fucks. You can’t answer his compliment, but the way you tighten around him is confirmation enough that you are in complete agreement with him. It’s like he knows exactly how you like it before you tell him, intuitively knowing you before even has the opportunity to find out.

He watches every reaction you give him carefully, how your legs tighten around his waist, your hands twisting themselves in his shirt, the mewls that leave your mouth mixed with words that you never finish, he takes every hint as gospel. He’s always intuitive to what a partner of his needs, but you’re a special case, every reaction you give him only makes him insatiable for more. The way your eyes roll back in your head is everything he’s ever wanted to see from you and more, never could he have imagined anything like this when you glanced at him in the E.R.

“Fuck, your pussy is so good, I’m gonna cum, sweets,” Eddie moans, fingers digging into your bare thigh, the pressure surely bruising the skin.

“Choke me.” You gasp, voice desperate for him.

“Hands are occupied, babe.” He answers, gruff and brows furrowed.

You tap the bar, using both hands now. “I got it.”

He whines, high-pitched and gorgeous. The kind of whine you listen to on men whimpering audios. Maybe you can make it happen more. Maybe one day he’ll let you worship him for a few hours…the idea is enticing. His large hand wraps itself around your throat, the metal of his rings causing harsh friction on your neck. He admires the way you revel in it, tongue poking out of your mouth like the slut you are for him. “You’re more of a slut than I thought you are, hmm?”

You nod, his strong arm flexed and mouth watering. The drool that slips down your tongue is pure proof of it, dampening your shirt in a little streak.

“What a good little pathetic slut,” he grins, rubbing your jawline with his thumb. His grip tightens, only enough to send stars in your vision.

You tap his arm, begging him for air. “A slut for you.” You gasp, whining for him. “Want your cum, please, please cum in me.”

“Can you beg for me one more time?” He asks, your question almost making him erupt on the spot.

“Please, please, please,” you beg, arms starting to lose their strength. “I wanna be dripping from you, so bad.”

“Yeah, want Daddy’s cum?” he asks, hands gripping into your hair.

Of course, this man has a daddy kink, you couldn’t expect anything less from him. “Yes, Daddy.” You whine, grinning at his hold on you. “Fill me up.”

“Baby, Daddy’s gonna fill you up—Jesus Christ.” He interrupts himself, cutting himself off as he ruts into you a final, gasping, sweaty time. He twitches in you, feeling him fill you up as some of starts to trickle out of your pussy and down your thigh.

His hand lets go of your hair, wrapping around your torso as he pulls you into an embrace. This is the kind of sex that takes time to recover from, both out of breath, his dick still twitching. A smile takes over your features, invading every muscle in your face.

“So, think you’re gonna call me?” He asks, hand moving itself under your shirt to gently brush against your bare skin.

“I’ll definitely text you.” You answer, chuckling at the annoyed look he shoots you when he pulls back in your embrace. “Oh, come on.”

He chuckles, and for some odd reason the last thing you expect from him is another kiss, his lips working marvelously against yours. They’re much gentler, much sweeter than you expected, yet everything you’d crave from him.

“What was that?” You ask, watching his two gorgeous brown eyes.

“What, you think I’m gonna let you go after that?” He asks, half a smile on his face. “Wanna come to my place later?”

“Later?” You ask, one eyebrow quirked at him.

“I’m heading home right now, wanna join me?” He kisses the top of your eyebrow, your cheekbone, your jawline, your still covered shoulder. “I kind of need to spend a few hours with my nose buried in that pretty little cunt of yours.”

Your jaw drops, your mouth drying completely from his admission. “Y-yeah, th-that sounds nice.”

He laughs at your stutter; your pussy having tightened around him upon the mention of it.

Three knocks hit the door, loud and abrupt. “Hurry the fuck up!”

You look at one another with wide eyes, laughing at the disruption. He backs up, his cock leaving your entrance being a loss you whimper at. “Don’t worry, sweets. I will fuck you more than enough times to satisfy that need.”

“Dunno,” you start, legs shaky as you land on them, “I think I’m pretty insatiable at this point.”

“Then we’ll just have to keep going, won’t we?” Eddie asks, pulling his jeans and boxers up his legs.

“And if I’m never satisfied?” you ask, tilting your head as you pull up your own pants.

“Well then I guess we’ll just never stop.”

You grin at his answer, biting your lip excitedly.

The silence is comfortable as you pick your jackets back up and the bags on the ground. His fingers intertwined with yours, leading you down the hall past the angry customer and out the front door of the store.

He offers to eventually take you back to your car when you need to go back home, wanting more time with you even if it’s the mere ten minutes that it takes to get to his apartment.

Not one moment is wasted as he yanks you to his bedroom, pushing you onto his bed. As promised, your jeans are yanked down your legs quick as can be, burying his nose deep in your cunt.

Only after the eighth orgasm does Eddie yank off your clothes, followed by his, finally skin against skin as he rails you in every position, even the ones you didn’t know were possible.

You might have to thank your brother for spraining your wrist, it’s the best thing he’s ever done for you.

-

Thanks for reading! I read every comment and tag you leave and as always reblogging is the best way to support fic writers on tumblr

taglist: @pinkcowracing @yourthebrokengirl @skrzydlak @thirddeadlysin @sammararaven @bebe07011 @prettylovley @josephquinnschesthair @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you @names-were-taken @oddussy420

taglist for Waiting Room Problems: @skrzydlak @delicatechaos @ali-r3n @suckerz @cam-peggio @eddies-stinky-battle-jacket @emxxblog @lilrubles @dandelionnfluff @babygirl229 @let-love-bleeds-red @kurdtbean

[kismetlotts]

Kinktober 🎃 day one: Thigh riding!

cw: thigh riding, dry humping, reader is bratty, mention of food and eating, mentions of spanking, mentions of oral sex, public sex, mention of horror films, mention of male and female masturbation, dominant Simon, breast play, reader and Simon have banter (he isnt just a nob)

Simon Riley who had never really cared or enjoyed going out to the cinema. So what a new movie you want to see has come out- are you that impatient, you can’t wait and watch it home but instead spend a stupid amount of money on overpriced popcorn and drinks just to be in front of a big screen? And not only that but surrounded by other people who are chewing- rustling sweet packets and slurping on their straws- laughing loudly at moments that aren’t even funny and sitting way too close to each other? No, he absolutely hated it.

“Simon please! I’ve been wanting to watch this horror film ever since they revealed it was being made! Please can we go?” You’d asked him, eyes almost glossy with tears from how hard you’d been begging him. Your shoulders slumped and eyes full of hope when he throws his head back with a sigh, how could he say no to his pretty girl?

It was date night after all, the two of you usually did something romantic together. The idea of date night was perfect at first, you’d gone bowling, star gazing, played card games, you’d even roped him into a karaoke night somehow- but now it was usually a nice meal out before coming home and fucking for hours. Now don’t get him wrong, he wasn’t complaining about it, the food was usually good and the sex was incredible but it could get a bit repetitive. A change could be nice- even if he hated it.

“Fine but get a seat in the corner at the back. I don’t want to be near people.” He grumbled as he opened up his phone, finding the website and passing it over for you to book. You whined, throwing your head back in annoyance like a spoiled fucking brat and Simons jaw clicked. If he wasn’t so irritated by the fact he was being forced to go to the cinema, he’d stand up and make you lean against the wall. His hand spanking your behind so hard it would leave a hand print because you know better than to act like this. You know better than to act like a child.

“But Simon! We won’t even be able to see the screen! No one ever sits at the back!” He looked up at you, his eyes darker than the sky outside, as he crossed his arms, biceps pretty much spewing out of his t-shirt as he stared, coldly, at you.

He was already pissed off you were wasting money to go see something you could watch together. Curled up on the sofa, in a warm blanket as he passes you a warm hot drink he’d made. There was no way you could convince him to sit in a middle seat surrounded by other people. He blinked slowly, waiting for you to speak but you just turned away.

Huffing as you booked the seats in the far left corner, last row and turned back around. You passed him his phone back before you ran upstairs to slip on some decent clothes. Changing out of your pyjamas and into something comfortable, pulling your hair up and out the way before rushing back down stairs to find your shoes. Simon looked you up and down, his eyebrows furrowed at your outfit and you froze.

“What?” You asked but his eyes remained on your body before slowly looking up and locking eyes with yours. It was clear there was something on his mind from how focused he was on you, how he was trying to read your every move, looking away quickly and back to his phone.

“You not going to get ready?” He asked and you let out a small laugh. Was he actually serious? Did he think that you were going to come running down the stairs in a long red cocktail dress, makeup done to the nines, heels and a matching handbag to watch a horror movie in a cinema? You shook your head, slipping into your trainers as you spoke.

“It’s a cinema Simon, not a formal event. You need to be comfy in order to enjoy the film. Do I nod look good?” His eyes fell down you again and fuck, how could he allow you to go out dressed like this? Your thighs looked perfect in your tight black leggings, they sculpted and shaped your figure so well and that baggy grey hoodie which was originally his made you look incredible. As much as you suited long beautiful dresses, makeup and hair, you dressed so effortlessly made it impossible for him not to chub up in his jeans.

“Yeah, you look stunning. How’s about we get goin’ then?” His voice was gruff as his body emerged from the chair he was dominating, his figure towering over you as he reached for his car keys and headed out. You let out a smile before following him to his car and sliding in the passenger seat as he drove.

When you’d arrived, you’d managed to talk him into letting you buy a large box of popcorn and two drinks, despite him saying how much he didn’t want one. The two of you had found your seats, sat in the corner as you began to tuck into your snacks already, grinning like a happy little girl while Simon sat beside you, sulking- scrolling on his phone. You frowned at him about to tell him to ‘Grow up’ when the movie started.

You’d gotten about halfway through and the popcorn and your drink was already gone, and instead of eating you sat anxiously watching the film. The jumpscares making you leap out of your seat meanwhile Simon just laughs. You were impressed how little he flinched, figuring it must have been the fact he’s used to loud noises in the military, but actually it was because he wasn’t paying attention the film. The light from the big screen shined down onto the material of your leggings, his body warmed with hunger.

He wanted to be between your legs right now, he wanted you to trap and squeeze his face between your thighs as he devoured you. Hoping you wouldn’t let him breathe or let his face go until you came on his tongue, his little bratty baby who can use him however she wants. He’d spoil you, he’d spoil you so good.

His eyes traced up the curve of your tits in his hoodie, it was only a subtle little curve due to how big it was on you but fuck, it was enough to get him throbbing in his underwear. His hand instantly palming himself through his jeans before a grumble of annoyance left your lips.

A pair of two, a woman and a man, had just snuck in, squeezing by people watching the movie before sitting down in the seats in front of you. The man’s head was quite tall and blocking a heavy portion of the screen for you and you groaned leaning in next to Simon.

“I cant see.” You’d whispered and Simon snorted, looking back at the screen with a smirk, hand now placed at his side despite his urge to start stroking his cock.

“Well you’re the one who wanted to come.” He teased, the back of his head hit the top section of his seat, his eyes glued to the screen, just to let you know he had a perfect view and you bit your lip in rage. Not only could you not see the film you’d wanted to watch for months, the guy who you dragged along and begged to come had a perfect view. He didn’t even want to be here!

“Well you’re the one who picked where we sat!” You spat back out to him, keeping your voice quiet as you sunk back into your seat, watching what you could of the screen because the more you bickered, the more of it you missed. Simon laughed as he remained in his position, eyes flickering from the screen to you and despite the banter, his heart tugged slightly.

You did want to watch this film, as much as he hated cinemas he knew how much you loved this film franchise and it was a shame to spend all this money on the both of you not having a fun time. His arm swooped around your waist tugging you towards him, up and over the arm rest between you and into his lap. Your eyes went wide, head turning to face him him.

“What are you-“ But before you could question him, he kissed your lips, a smile on his own as he looked into your eyes, leaning in again. His mouth found your ear as he quietly whispered.

“Just enjoy the movie, love.” And with a deep breath you smiled, turning your attention back to the screen and getting lost in the film again. It was easy for you to just sit back and relax, eyes running over the screen as you watched it softly. Perched up in Simons lap, completely obvious to how hard Simon was fighting for control. How hard he was fighting the urge to push you back over to your seat and fuck the living hell out of you.

Your ass was pressed nice and neatly against his length, he was sure if you decided to move a slight bit, that you would be able to feel it and it was making him a madman. His hands rose to your waist slowly, diving beneath the fabric of your hoodie, feeling the smooth warm skin in his hands, squeezing it and rubbing it slowly. His head fell to your shoulder, watching the moving from there but he wasn’t sure how long he would be able to last.

“Simon?” You’d whispered as that was his limit reached. Hearing you whisper his name back to him had him breathing heavier, his hands digging into you as he pushed you back against him. Your eyes widening when you felt him under you, feeling his body brush against yours sent sparks to your pussy. The movie was a distant memory all of a sudden as you moved your body forward and against him. Rolling my hips in subtle movements.

A groan left his lips but instead of keeping you on his cock he lifted you slightly, placing you on his thigh. Bouncing his leg a little underneath you, wanting you to please yourself, as your skin flushed in the dark. You shouldn’t be doing this; not here. There was over 20 people in the room and here you were, riding against his thigh like a whore but it felt heavenly. The friction was addictive against your clit, warm, melted- like drowning hot honey. Your head flew back and Simons hands raised to your tits, pinching your nipples through the bra and squeezing them tightly to keep you needy.

“Keep going, be a good girl and hump my thigh.” He whispered, watching in awe as your hips rocked faster. Your eyes unfocused and hazy, while your mouth hung agape. You could feel your pussy throb inside your panties and the urge to stuff your fingers down your leggings was unbearable. It was so wrong- but it felt so fucking right.

You rutted against him faster and faster as one of his hands left your tits and instead grabbed your cunt through your clothes. His thumb finding your clit instantly and he circled it through the fabric: watching your orgasmic expression while your body twitched. When he withdrew his hand you flipped around facing him, grinding against him while looking deep into his eyes.

Suspenseful music played through the speakers of the cinema, and a laugh left your mouth at the timing. The louder it got, the closer you felt. Simon picked up on this gripping your waist eagerly, helping you rock against him while he praised you. People clutched their popcorn buckets and closed their eyes in fear while you threw your head back, until screams echoed the room and a moan left your lips.

Collapsing back into Simon as your chest rose and fell, your cum gushing out your hole and dampening your panties shamelessly- you probably leaked through your leggings too either how wet you were. Simon smiled to himself, kissing your neck long and hard as he held you close, his touch comforting and sensual as he calmed you slowly. Letting you come down from the high he gave you before chucking.

“Maybe cinemas aren’t the worst thing ever..”

[songbiirdss]

Part 1 of my first chapter of Stages

Chapters will update on Fridays ✨🫶 Enjoy!!

Jason seemed smaller in his arms now. Bruce had hugged him just days ago. How was he so small? Agony ripped through him, this was more than a fight with Dick, this was more than a spat about birth mothers. This was permanent, this was an ending that came far too soon.

Bruce didn't know how long he sat in the rubble and smoke. His throat burned with the dry smoke he kept inhaling. A fine layer of snow was falling all around them, he wiped Jason’s face down with a clean part of his cape, hoping and praying this was some kind of sick joke, that this was a horrible nightmare.

But his son didn't move, didn’t push him away, didn’t react at all.

He lifted Jason’s tiny body up carefully, oh so carefully. His blood was already coagulated and the cold had already made Jason’s body so stiff. He didn’t dare think about how he would explain this to the public, how people would see Bruce Wayne.

He tugged his son close, he needed to get him away and safe. God’s above, Bruce was a curse on all he loved.

Bruce didn’t know how he got back to the jet, he didn't know how he made the call to Alfred who called Dick back to Earth. He knew that the autopilot took him back to Gotham in what could have been record time - just under 16 hours, cleaning his son’s dead body, putting him into his favorite pajamas, tucking him into the small cot where he thought Bruce wouldn't find the Wonder Woman stickers on the bottom side of the top bunk.

Jason looked like he could have been asleep like this, but his face was too pale, his chest was unmoving, his face far too still.

He didn’t stop crying, he didn’t sleep. He had changed at some point, hating his own suit so much that the sight of it made him sick.

He didn’t realize he was in the cave until Alfred pulled him into a hug.

“I lost him, I lost him Al.” Bruce cried, holding Alfred close. His only parent left, smoothing back his hair, wiping away his tears.

“Shh, Bruce, this is not your fault son.” Alfred hugged him tighter. “We have to take care of this now though, come, Dick just arrived home, he needs you. Miss Gordon will be coming later tonight.”

Fear raced through him, he was no father, he didn’t know how to console Dick. He could barely console himself. Barbra was a whole different story, he didn’t know if he could face her.

“Master Bruce, I can hear you thinking, go see your son,” Alfred said in his ‘do what I say voice.’ “I will take care of Master Jason.” Alfred pushed him out the door onto the hard concrete. Dick was there, teary eyed.

“Tell me this is a sick joke, B.” He was in civilian clothes, hair messy and unclean. h

He had grown some since Bruce last saw him.

Bruce could only shake his head, catching Dick as he collapsed into his arms. He had to remember that Dick was just barely into adulthood as well. Two orphans who knew loss like their own reflections.

“Fuck! Fuck!” Dick held onto Bruce’s shirt, “What happened Bruce?” He pulled back, searching his sons eyes.

“Joker got him, a bomb, oh Jason…” He wailed, he didn’t remember the last time he had cried so hard. When his parents died he, well he blocked much of the weeks that had passed from his memory. He knew in his heart that he must have cried, but he also knew his parents were always going to leave him first, that was the way of life.

This, no this thing that happened, this was never supposed to happen.

He knew the people they fought were monsters, but none of them ever hit Jason as hard, they never tried to kill the kid before. Sure they were probably holding back because of some kind of overconfidence, but there was never a sense that they wanted to kill the kid. They shot at Batman, not at Robin.

Maybe Bruce was delusional, maybe he never saw the signs.

They stood after a moment, Bruce wiping his son’s tears. He would not mess this up again, he would not let Dick leave his sight, at least not for now. Dick walked to the jet where Alfred was carrying Jason’s wrapped body down to the ground floor.

He was shaking as he reached for the blanket covering Jason’s body.

“Son- Dick, you don’t have to see him like this,” Bruce said, hand on Dick’s shoulder. That Dick didn’t push him away or scream that he wasn’t Bruce’s son was some relief. He was just glad Dick had shown up.He knew the boys had a rocky relationship to say the least, but having him here was a comfort for his racing mind.

“No I- I have to see him,” Dick said pulling back the blanket to find that too small frame unmoving, unsmiling.

“God-“ He choked out before covering the boy once again, turning to leave the cave, “I can’t - I can’t be down here right now.” He all but ran up the stairs.

Bruce turned to Alfred, whose grief was written all over his face.

“I already called Leslie, she will preform the autopsy. I have also told the press that there was a car accident and that you were severely injured - you will be free from press duty for the next 3 months.” Alfred said, patting his shoulder. The man was so much shorter than him, yet Bruce always felt so small in his presence.

“I failed him, Alfred. What do I do?”

“We will figure it out together son.”

[theunaveragepsychoticbitch]

KINKTOBER DAY 2: SEMI PUBLIC

Yall why tf I forgot to schedule this post. I just woke up and was like wtf. Anyways a year later yall gettin the finished version of this.

The waitress, innocent in her unawareness, made her way over far quicker than Barbatos wished.

Your fingers didn't stutter once in their rhythm as she approached. When she spoke, "Yes? How may I help you?", you felt his cunt squeeze around you, arousal drizzling down the thoroughly-soaked digits.

From where the waitress stood, all she saw was your hand in your boyfriend's lap. He was tomato red, a strange glazed look in his eyes that suggested illness of some sort. Oh dear, was there a problem with the tea?

"Ah, was the tea not to your liking? Our deepest apologies–"

You slide your thumb across his clit, making him jump. Cold tea sloshed over the side onto the table.

You and the waitress both gasp, hers coming out significantly more genuine.

"Please, let me clean that for you!"

In the second it takes to retrieve a towel from her uniform pocket, your thumb moves to his clit in true, rubbing mind numbingly slow circles as your fingers sped up.

Barbatos wasn't sure he could breathe. The woman was bent over the table, dutifully cleaning up his mess, occasional glancing up in confusion at the forced stoicism on his face. She was so close. Close enough that if she looked down right now, she'd see you. Close enough that if she listened in, the bustle of the busy Cafe would fade to the wet gush of arousal leaking into his (thankfully dark) pants, forced from his cunt by your skilled fingers.

God, why was it taking so long to clean such a small spill?

"Once again, um, our apologies sir. May we help you with anything else? A refill, perhaps?"

He hoped he didn't sound too breathy. "It’s f-f…" he closes his eyes against beading tears as you switch your pace again, nails digging into the soft skin of his palms as his hands fisted in his lap. "Fine. May I… hah, may I please have a refill?" He shoves the words out, fighting the urge to fuck himself on your fingers the whole time.

Wearing a slightly befuddled expression, she nods, absentmindedly scribbling on her little notepad and backing away.

Barbatos pants, relaxing onto your fingers and allowing them just a little farther inside. The squelch of his own arousal meets his ears and manages to further warm his face.

"You're amazing," You lean in, whispering into his ear and basking in the shiver that ran through him. The sun was going down, and it's rays were hitting him perfectly, making his hair and eyes glow with a special sorta brilliance that drove you insane. His lips, bitten raw by this point, were red and puffy, begging to be kissed. Hot, flushed skin looked soft to the touch, was soft to the touch, begging to be caressed and cared for.

You smile, your own lust like a beast that'd caught its prey in your eyes. Barbatos was quick to catch the change in mood; quick to realize he was extremely fucked.

To outsiders, you look like a couple on a rather awkward first date, or perhaps like one on their umpteenth. A teasing lover and a shy one.

Oh, how Barbatos wishes it was that simple.

"Do you wanna cum?" There was a barely leashed excitement in your voice. Never had a whispering seemed so loud, loud enough to drown out everything else all at once.

There was only one answer, really.

"Yes."

Your smirk was devilish. "Then beg the waitress for it."

...

....

.....

What?

Pretty green eyes filled with tears as they widened to saucers. Beg... the waitress?

The last woman he wanted to see at the moment appeared behind the counter, chatting it up with a coworker as his drink cooled on its platter. He had a few minutes at most.

"What do you mean? How can I... what would I say?"

Your smile gets no less evil, a dark chuckle leaving you as your fingers stopped all movement. He whines automatically at the loss, just managing to stop his hips from grinding down when he catches your look.

"You of all people are acting like you don't know how to beg?" How he managed to blush even more, only the devil knows.

You roll your eyes at the helplessness on his face. "Figure out, and quickly, she's coming back."

In one fluid movement you retrieve your hand, earning a gasp as you wrap your arm around his waist, slide back into his pants and pose your middle finger right over his clit.

"Anything else?" The lady says, setting down the tray and dutifully moving the cup and it's little plate infront of Barbatos.

You smiled, nodding your head to Barbatos. He inhaled, hoping his expression was polite and simple, despite the watery eyes and rosey cheeks.

"Yes, please..." You tap his clit, making his eyes flutter. "Please, may I– fuck– I mean, please can," Steady breathes began to break as your tantalizingly slow circles broke his focus. He was almost there, so sensitive, so close. Please, please, please...

She smiled, but it was... different, this time. She leaned down, hugging her notepad and pen to her chest.

"Go ahead and cum, pretty boy."

And he did. He came hard as you pinched his clit, jaw dropping open as nothing but a shocked exhale left him, a single, thankful tear falling down his cheek as his orgasm shook him to his soul.

When it was over, two sets of hands were upon him. One was yours, the other was the waitress'. You both smirk at him, twin whispers of "Good Boy," meeting his ears.

[baxteravenue]

HOW TO FAKE IT

pt ii.

summary: when jack and yours management team come together to create a perfect pr relationship you and jack must do your best to keep it as professional as possible... but when you have to spend a year together the lines between real and fake can become a little blurry.

STAGE ONE: Planting The Seed

You could feel the goosebumps rise against your skin as you sat in the cold conference room watching as your manager spoke with a shorter woman, before pointing back at you. You looked away scrolling back on your phone. You knew why you were here, you didn’t really agree to it but he was on a roll in his career right now and he didn’t need anything stopping it soon which is where you came in. 

You were an up and coming singer, you were happy with your fans. You weren't the biggest but you had no complaints. You understood why they wanted this for you, why your label was going out of its way to make you the next Taylor Swift or Ariana Grande. You just didn’t understand why it had to be this way.

“Y/N…” Your manager taps at you making you lift up your head, next to her stands Jack Harlow. “This is Jack, I’m gonna leave you two here to get to know each other and stuff while me and Neelam discuss some stuff.”

You nod, giving her a small smile as she walks out. The room feels warm now, and you can sense the sweat building at the bottom of your back.

“Hi.” Jack says from across the table, he decides to make the first move. 

“Hi.” You respond.

It doesn’t last long because it’s quiet again and awkward, very awkward. 

“Look, I think we should talk and like discuss some things… we are gonna be dating I guess.” Jack rubs at the back of his neck and for the first time you can tell that he is nervous as well. 

“Okay, what do you want to talk about?” You ask.

He leans over, crossing his arms over his chest. “Well first of all are you okay with all of this? I don’t want to do this if you’re not okay with it.” 

You raise an eyebrow at him, “This was your idea?”

“What? No.” He shakes his head, “But I’m not against it. I want a Grammy Y/N and there's… Look, let's just say that some people don’t want me to have one. I’m sure you want one too.” 

You did. It was one of your biggest dreams but in order for that to happen you had to do something about it, and the industry was cut throat. 

“Fine.”

“Fine?” Jack smiled.

“Yes, fine.”

He nodded, “I like your music by the way.”

You laughed. “Yours isn't too bad either.”

Your manager came back into the room as the two of you were in conversation, coming up with things you wanted to do and didn’t.

“Ready to do this?”

You and Jack looked at each other, before nodding. 

Within the next week the four of you had multiple upon multiple meetings coming up with terms and conditions that both you and Jack would be fine with. 

“And one last thing, no one can know. Only the four of us,” Your manager starts looking over at Neelam who continues.

“Not even Urban Jack, no one. To everyone else outside this room the two of you are a real couple and you must act that way.” 

You and Jack sign for a year, enough time to get some exposure on his new album that revolves around love rather than his usual fuck boy persona, and so that the audience can put a face to the alluded person and so that you can kickstart a long and accomplishing career. 

You spend the first few weeks slowly getting used to each other. He follows you on Instagram and you follow back maybe two people notice but you don’t get a huge reaction besides a random account getting excited that two of her favorite artists follow each other.

The two of you are steady with texting about random things, wanting to at least become friends before things get more serious for the public eye. Within a month you’re flying out to Louisville to stay with him for a bit. 

“How do you like it so far?” Jack asks as the two of you eat ice cream in his apartment. 

You take the spoon that was full of chocolate ice cream out of your mouth, “Louisville or this situation?” You blubber through the coldness.

“Both.”

“I don’t think we’ve gotten far enough for me to really feel a certain way, but I haven’t been called any degrading names on the internet so I think it’s fine?” You shrug, “And I haven’t seen much of Atlanta besides your guest room and the Whole Foods down the block.” 

“Let’s do something then?” Jack looked over at you.

“Can we?”

“I don’t see why not? It’s already been a month, a little sighting wouldn’t be too bad.” Jack sits up, “Plus there's a place I really want to show you.”

The place Jack wanted to show you was only just a five minute walk around his apartment complex. A park right under a highway that overlooked a river. The moon twinkled over the water, it was really pretty. 

You looked up at Jack, “Do you come here a lot?”

Jack adjusted his hoodie, shrugging. “Not really. Not these days at least.”

“It’s pretty, and close. I think I'd be here a lot.”

Jack looked at you, “I’m headlining a festival they have here in a few months.”

“Really? That’s so fucking cool!” You smile at him.

“It’s pretty nuts, I remember sneaking into it and then when I first got my slot to perform at the smallest stage with a small crowd of mostly people that knew me from high school– Feels unreal still.”

You nod, “I can’t wait to experience that… Don’t get me wrong I love my little fan base so much and I love playing intimate shows where I can really connect with my audience but I also want to experience a crowd so big I can’t even see where it ends.” You nod.

Jack puts his arm around you, bringing you in closer to him and your heart jumps a little surprisingly, “If this goes as planned I'm sure you will.” 

“Oh my god, Jack Harlow!”

And suddenly him wrapping his arm around you makes sense.

JACKHARLOWUPDATES: Jack is currently back home in Louisville!

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JACKHARLOWFAN: he looks so cutie in that picture

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STACYGREENE5: hey! that’s me, he was so sweet even if i was acting a bit crazy lol!

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GAZEBOSTAN: why was he by himself at the waterfront?!

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STACYGREENE5: he wasn’t! he was with a girl… i’m pretty sure they’re dating bc he had his arm around her!

JACKHARLOWUPDATED: Jack and Y/N in Louisville tonight!

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USERNAME: wtf 

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USERNAME1: This is so random

JACKMANTWTAS: Y/N is credited as a writer on multiple albums, including Mac Miller, so I’m sure they’re working on something together.

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USERNAME: if it’s true, i’m sure this will be his best album bc she helped mac with swimming when she was only 17

[cmtcahrule]

No Words. Part 2.

For those who can't or won't watch.

26. After our wedding I had purchased all of these lanterns. I had this storage unit of all of these lanterns because they really went with the vibe. I had him and his friends drive them in a U-Haul to Texas which was really helpful until they got stopped at the border with weed and went to jail. So they helped when they could.

27. So when things really blew up for him, which I knew took some years, and you were in the spotlight at red carpets, and you were at big movie premiers, and more eyes were on you, how did that feel? Like you had the taste of fame from the hosting, but did you like being in that spotlight of Hollywood? It felt really weird. Like I should be asking questions. I felt like I still wanted to be the person asking questions. There’s always a fine line. You want to be a supportive wife. But you don’t want to lose your identity. Your husband’s career is going one direction but I have always found it tricky to be a supportive wife and maintain everything else that I want. How can I maintain my young, bitch self and be who I am?

28. I wondered how you felt when he was doing really well and you had to come along for the ride? Everything goes back to relationships. We were best friends. We went everywhere together. We didn’t have kids for 5 years. We were together on every set and every experience. I have so many of my friends from his movie sets like Social Network.

29. Where were you when your marriage was ending? Were you ready? I don’t think anyone is ready. I am such a family person. My family is everything. I would literally do anything to take any pain away from my kid. There is literally nothing I would not do.

30. I am a very Christmas card, basic bitch girl who believes family is more important than life or work. I would honestly do anything to keep my family together.

31. During COVID ahead of the divorce announcement: He was having struggles with his dad. He said mentally I am not OK. Like for me, if anyone said I am not OK, you don’t argue with that.

32. Long story short, he left. I saw some text messages that were not supposed to be sent to me.

33. You know what, we have worked so hard and come so far, you just don’t leave your family during a global pandemic. Especially with everything that we have been through.

34.Yes, family is important, but some people are OK with infidelity, but some people can move on, some people can turn a blind eye, but I fucking deserve the world and I am not the girl.

35. I think people make mistakes but I was never going to stay in a relationship where I was disrespected.

36. I remember screaming and crying and not understanding how and why that this could even be happening after we had so many plans. We wanted more kids. We wanted to be in this neighborhood.

37. It was the most horrible time of my life. I am strong. Yes, you are strong as fuck. From the sidelines, watching you…the way you handled it should be written about.

38. Did he try to fight for the marriage when you wanted to end it? He was not in a great place at the time. I won’t speak on his behalf in terms of treatment but all I wanted for him was for him to get help.

39. I drove him to the airport.

40. A good place to heal is where there is no paparazzi or tabloids. I honestly think that one more year might be our “safe zone” here. It is not like we are hiding but I just want to protect them until they can understand that we are both in really healthy places now.

41. I told my daughter I will buy half of your car if you wait until you are 16 to have a phone.

42. I don’t want to overstep but this came out in the media that Armie is paying $1,500 per month in child support and for some reason that became public. I have built a really successful company and I have 3 shows right now in production. I am so grateful for the success of my company and my team. I can sit here and literally spend however many dollars on another year of arguing back and forth with him about how much money and it is such a waste. I will provide for our kids. They are with me all the time.

43. We were in LA and we were staying at my friend’s house and together putting the kids to sleep and reading a book together. That is what kids want and that is what makes them happy. If that is the one thing I can give them I will. There is nothing I won’t do for them. They didn’t ask for any of this.

44. Are you still dating your hot boyfriend? Yes. He is amazing. He is from Lithuania. Born and raised in a small village. He is a physical therapist. I am in love and I love him.

45. So if you move to LA is he going to come? I don’t know. Everyone says the city will ruin him. He is very traditional. He is only 26.

46. The kids love him so much. He is so present and great with them. He is never on his phone.

47. Our family of four, including Armie, is really important to them. That is their identity now.

48. Regarding work: I am excited for the one on Discovery. It is basically a Dateline but with modern terms. Toxic relationships. I am manifesting 300 seasons of it.

49. We have also done a show on Hulu about opening the location here in Cayman which I am hosting and producing. A couple of other ones that just sold.

50. In the end, everything comes down to trauma. Maybe you are filling a void you did not have when you were younger. We are all products of our upbringing. And that really manifests itself in romantic relationships.

[drdemonprince]

I feel like you've answered a question on this before, so sorry if my search skillz failed me. how do you keep a playful attitude when trying new things? I started a book on wu-wei/'trying not to try' that has made me feel a bit hopeless so far, as I know that approaching things more casually/playfully will help it feel less painful (social situations, job search, dating, etc), but apparently you can't consciously try to be playful?!

Hmmmm this is a tricky question to answer, because it is far easier to describe what the end state feels like than to explain how I got there. But I will try!

I think if you're someone who tends to be quite skeptical and cynical about things, your first instinct during difficult situations might be to turn that skepticism toward yourself. You watch yourself trying to complete the new activity, or talk to the unfamiliar person, and all you can see is the flaws, and you tell yourself, "yeah, nice try bozo, you're never going to be good enough at this / it's never going to be worth it" and what do you know, you are crestfallen and unmotivated. And now that you're judging yourself and feeling shitty, it's even more difficult to complete the task.

but, in my experience in graduate school, developing as a creative writer, and just fumbling my way through social mores, there comes a time when you stop turning that skepticism on yourself all the time, and instead direct it outward, and begin to notice just how fucking confused and fucked up everybody else's attempts are. and if you're lucky, you might even notice other people's foibles and missteps with a sense of affection, rather than cruelty.

the more you step outside of yourself and observe others, the more you notice all the awkward things people say, the strange moments of crossed wires and missed signals, the jokes that fall flat, and just how much people really do not care about all of that so long as you keep engaged and keep your energy open and keep trying.

i have never seen a neurotypical socialize flawlessly. they say rude weird ass things and bump into other people all the fucking time! but they just keep going. often they don't even realize they've done anything wrong. and maybe they haven't even done anything wrong really. perfection isn't really what is expected. the energy is what matters more than the execution, and so if they move around with an open, receptive quality to themselves, and keep learning, they can get by being a little awkward or confused just fine.

and once you recognize how much people are fucking up all the time and that it doesnt really matter, and nobody really cares, for me it gets a lot easier to saunter around being my own level of messy and loose too. i used to judge how inept and oblivious everybody was -- at work, in school, during the hangout, on the train. and at some point i realized it was actually beautiful and something i could feel affectionate about.

it turns out you do not need to worry about everyone behind you in line at the grocery store hating you for taking too long putting your change away. AND you dont have to be mad at the guy in front of you who takes five minutes to put his change away either. because YOU are HIM and HE is YOU and we all suck and that's great.

it's fucking funny how silly and sloppy and dazed a lot of people really are. everybody fucks up constantly and is fucking weird. so who cares! i dont need to evacuate the space because i forgot myself and started picking my nose in public for a second. i can just rub my hand on my pant leg and move on. i dont need to give up going to the comic book club because me and one other guy there got into a small argument. i can come back the next month and make a joke about it with him. that's just normal messy human stuff.

the writer david cain talks about coping with social anxiety by imagining other human beings as kittens that have been dumped out from a basket into the room. they roam around, falling over themselves, exploring and sniffing and doing kitteny things, and none of them are a threat to you ever, and their actions dont mean all that much and certainly aren't all that menacing, they're just silly little animals fumbling around.

and i like to think of humans that way. we goof off, we devote an entire supposedly very serious work meeting to discussing something only tangentially relevant but far more emotionally compelling, we make up all kinds of games to play and weird rules for those games, and then we break the rules of those games and forget them. none of this shit is like, real. and the people who recognize what a goofy joke it is are often the most powerful.

not taking anything too seriously makes me feel powerful. im cynical and skeptical about everything that i get told is an airtight social or procedural rule, and i experiment around the boundaries of it, to see where it bends. but whereas i used to do that in a very bitter and entitled way, trying to find my way "out" of a system I had disdain for, now i can sometimes play with these boundaries and laugh at myself for tripping over them at times and just keep on moving, because that's what everybody does.

[orangepanic]

Is it weird to write fanfiction of fanfiction? Maybe. But I was thinking about @kurocache's amazing No Strings Attached modern AU where, among A LOT of other things, Asami winds up living with Iroh after her breakup with Korra and Korra's subsequent reunion with Mako. As I eagerly await the ending of that fic it got me thinking about Asami's perspective and how hard it might be for her to let herself be loved again, even when it's staring her in the face. The following is in no way meant to be canon in Kuro's AU, and I hope they'll consider this little thought experiment as the compliment it was intended.

***

There weren’t any benches by the water. Standing in the cold wind Asami wasn’t sure now if there ever had been, or if she’d only imagined them. She’d done a lot of that over the years. Imagined people instead of seeing who they were—or who they weren’t. Imagined her future. Imagined love that would last a lifetime. But in the end neither people nor benches were there to support her. Asami found a seat on the edge of the concrete pier and hugged her knees up under her chin, shivering. Her t-shirt and leggings were hardly winter wear. In her hurry to leave she’d grabbed whatever was closest.

Asami tried to focus on the boats in the bay as they passed. Their colors and textures, and the little flags that showed where they were from. In spite of the chill it would probably be a nice day for sailing. But sailing inevitably brought her mind back to him, and to the conversation that had never quite stopped playing in an endless loop in the back of her mind. That, and the stricken look on his face. 

It wasn’t that she didn’t like Iroh. She did and always had, even before he’d taken her in after the breakup without so much as a question. Despite his tough exterior Iroh was one of the kindest people Asami had ever met. His quiet ways hid a keen mind and a depth of character that went far beyond his public pledges of honor and service. When people talked, Iroh listened to them, and he thought about what they said. He was well-read, worldly. A fantastic Pai Sho player. He made great omelets. And there was certainly an attraction there, too; not just because Iroh was a handsome man but something in the way he moved his body, and how he looked at her. Asami had kissed him first. They’d started sleeping together. He’d been good. Better than good, spirits, it had felt like Iroh wanted nothing but to please her. All she’d wanted to do was forget.

Asami dug her fists into her eyes and blew out a breath. She wasn’t going to cry. Between her father and Korra and fucking slimeball Varrick she was out of tears for this year. 

Footsteps sounded against the pier. When they stopped behind her Asami didn’t react. Go away, she thought. Alone was where she belonged. Alone and unwanted and unhurt.

The visitor softly cleared their throat. “You forgot your coat.” 

“It’s fine.”

“It’s cold out.” 

Asami laughed into her closed hands in a way that sounded too much like a sob. Boots shuffled behind her and then heavy fabric draped around her shoulders, cutting off the wind. A moment later something metal clanged gently on the concrete. When Asami cast a glance sideways a large red thermos with the golden United Forces logo sat by her side. 

“Just tea,” said Iroh. “Black with lemon.” The way she liked it, not him. “You can keep the thermos. I have two.”

“What are you doing here?” she choked out. 

“You left without your coat.”

“I can handle myself.” 

“I know,” said Iroh. “And I’m not here to ask anything of you, or to ask… anything again. But you can’t be out in this weather without a coat. Not because of me.”

Of all the ridiculous things. She’d kicked his heart to the floor and here he was out of chivalry. Asami dropped her hands to pull her coat tighter around her. She already felt warmer and hated it. Why did he have to be like this?

“Did you wanna sit?” she asked. 

Iroh hesitated, then folded himself down next to her without comment. His long legs dangled over the edge. Unsure what to say Asami unclasped her arms and took up the thermos. Warmth bloomed in her chest at the first sip, the fragrant steam caressing her face like a lover. She’d always be a coffee girl but Iroh’s tea was as good as his omelets.

“Thank you.”

“Of course.” When Asami handed Iroh the thermos he took it, wrinkling his nose at the taste. 

“Are you alright?” she asked. 

He didn’t answer. He seemed to be studying the open mouth of the thermos. 

“Iroh?”

Iroh took another swig of tea before handing it over again. He braced his powerful arms against the pier, leaning back, not looking at her. “No. But I will be.” Frost curled from his lips as he exhaled. “These things happen. You don’t owe me a reason, Asami.” The implication being that she hadn’t given him one. Which she hadn’t. When Iroh had run his thumb across her lips and asked with shy smile and soft eyes if she’d ever consider more than just sex she’d practically rocketed out of his bed and through the front door with a string of apologies trailing behind her like tin cans on a stray dog. Not because she didn’t want him but because she couldn’t go through it again. Asami had already been left or betrayed by everyone she’d ever loved and she wasn’t going to add any more names to that list. She couldn’t love Iroh, not now, not when she was only barely back on her feet. She couldn’t survive loving him, too. Even if deep in her heart she knew it was already too late. But better to lose him now than to be shattered in a year or two when one more time she found out the hard way that she wasn’t enough. 

“I’m sorry,” she said into the thermos. 

“Don’t be.” 

“But I want to.”

“You want to be sorry?” Iroh ventured a glance in her direction. “Can I ask you something?” he said. “A different something.”

Asami tensed. “Okay.”

“Can you promise it’s me?”

“Huh?” She turned to him. “What’s you?”

Iroh stared out at the bay again, white-lipped and grim. “Promise it’s me,” he repeated, “and that when the time comes you’ll let somebody love you. Somebody else.”

Asami dropped her eyes as a knife twisted in her gut. There was a reason Iroh was so good at Pai Sho. He’d cornered her in two moves, leaving her with the terrible choice of lying to his face or saying out loud what she desperately didn’t want to say because she knew him, and he’d come all this way to bring her her fucking coat not because he wanted a second chance but because she was cold and he couldn’t stand the thought of it. Iroh would never accept that she was unlovable and better off shielded from that hurt. He was too kind, and too full of love himself. It was easy to miss but he was. Nothing inside him but marshmallow fluff. Asami snorted at the image of poking his stomach like a warm cream bun. 

Iroh raised an eyebrow. “Funny?”

“You’re such a sap.”

The corner of his mouth pulled up into a smile that didn’t quite touch his eyes. “Don’t tell anyone. I have an image to maintain.”

“I won’t.”

“You didn’t answer my question though.”

“Iroh…”

“It’s alright. You don’t have to say it.” He flashed up a hand, then picked up the cap leaned over to screw it back on the tea thermos. “It’ll get cold if you leave it open,” he added, his voice rough. Asami knew what he’d assumed in her silence. She stared at his big hands wrapped around the thermos and felt her lip begin to tremble. Her vision blurred. 

“Wait,” she sniffed.

Iroh’s head snapped up. “Asami?”

“It’s not you,” she blurted, keeping her eyes on his square chin as a single tear spilled down her cheek. “Iroh, it’s not you, never. Please don’t think that, you’re wonderful, it’s me and I couldn’t take it if you left me too, I’d—” and that’s as far as she got before he folded her into his arms and she broke down completely. Asami sobbed against his chest, his familiar scent wrapping around her like a blanket as he hugged her tight. 

“Shh, you’re okay,” he murmured into her hair. 

Asami cried and cried until there was nothing left in her but hiccups. Iroh adjusted her coat around her and stroked her hair. He said very little, just occasional soothing sounds, low and indistinct, as if she were a child with a fever. Only when she’d quieted did he pull back to face her. His features were drawn, his golden eyes full of exasperated concern.

“May I take you home?” he asked.

Asami wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and nodded. “I’m sorry about your shirt.”

“I’ll wash it.”

“Iroh—”

“Later,” he said with a sharp shake of his head. He reached up and wiped the wetness from her cheek with his thumb, then leaned down and kissed her forehead just below her hairline. “Come on. There’s dumplings for dinner if you’re patient. We can talk after if you want. Grab the thermos, will you?”

Iroh got to his feet, then held out a hand to pull her up. When they started to walk Asami didn’t let it go.

[eddiernunson]

Waiting Room Problems | Eddie Munson x fem!Reader | 18+ | PREVIEW

Summary: a rough landing in a fight with your brother causes you to land in a crowded waiting room. Meanwhile a rough deal also sends Eddie the same fate. Somehow, somehow you try to keep your eyes on your phone and off his tiny little waist. It proves…difficult.

Warnings: strangers to lovers, fleeting glances, slightly cocky Eddie, sex in a public bathroom (trust me on this, just trust me), and general horniness at Eddie’s general appearance.

Authors note: I just spent 8 hours last night (when I wrote this) in the fucking waiting room. At two hours in a guy came in and he radiated Eddie’s energy so my mind ran away with it. (Everything is ok).

I'm posting a sneak at this one, because it was a surprisingly close call. I'm not sure when I'll be done, tbh. But here's the first 900 words!

As the night swallowed you whole, you sit in your mom’s passenger seat of her car while she drives you to the ER. While rough housing with your older brother you landed on your hand wrong and bent it way back. It’s definitely not broken, but it for sure needs to be looked at.

As the lights of the night pass you by you insist you’re fine and the sprain will heal after a few days. Your mom, however, was having none of it as you roll your eyes in exasperation.

She’s as stubborn as you are, so you sit arms crossed as you know you have no choice. Ouch, ok, crossing your arms was a bad idea.

She wishes you well, her kind eyes wide as she leans over to ask to keep her updated. You can’t help it, slamming the door after letting her know you will. You should’ve been enjoying some spiked eggnog and watching holiday movies, but now you’re spending Christmas Eve in the ER.

The large window to the waiting room lets you know there’s already a long line up just waiting for the triage and most seats are taken. Fuck, you’re in for a long night.

The kind and sunny nurse takes your vitals and information gently assessing your symptoms and palpating your wrist carefully. She lets you know it’s definitely sprained and will need a gauze wrap.

Soon, you find yourself sat in a brown, cracked, leather chair sitting close to a man who is coughing up a lung and groaning in pain at each one. Not that there are many options to begin with.

Your phone in your hand and your charger in your bag, you sit comfortably and wait for your name to get called to the back as you read the memes and watch with one headphone in.

Ninety minutes goes by while your best friend texts you to keep you busy and entertained, not even noticing you’ve been waiting for so long. Thank god for her.

For the first time in a while, you look up to assess the state of the waiting room. As far as you recall, about five people have been called to the back. Those seats have been replaced with new patients and their support, what seems to be a never-ending cycle.

Your eyes flick onto someone who walks into the line that is long enough to extend into the hallway, stepping up a place in line and finally in the actual waiting room. Your eyes scan him, the boots, the ripped jeans, the leather jacket covering a graphic tee, all leading up to his shaggy brown hair and gorgeous face.

Your mouth partially opens, momentarily taken aback by how unbelievably hot he is. There doesn’t seem to be anything wrong, at least, until you notice the tear in his shirt peeking at white gauze on his torso. From the stain, it’s clear he was injured.

His face doesn’t reflect such, patiently waiting as the two triage nurses take their time. By the third time he blinks, you realize you’ve been staring and shift your eyes back down to your phone.

As the line moves, his boots in the corner of your eye, you grow increasingly aware of how much you want to continue staring at him. Somehow, he was just so enticing, everything about him drawing you in. Especially his lack of response to a wound as such.

Time passes on and soon you find yourself bored of the videos and turn on your Spotify to the comfort playlist. Your eyes flicker to the triage, wondering around the room aimlessly. Unfortunately, it lands on the stranger you’ve been lingering on and witnesses him lifting his shirt to show the nurse the reason for his visit.

The black shirt lifts to show a slim waist scattered in black and white tattoos, lifting the white gauze to reveal a gnarly wound. You can’t tell but from its shape it looks to be a stab wound. However gory his uncovered wound looks; you can’t help but stare at his bare torso.

Then, it fucking happens. His eyes flicker to you, for a fraction of second, he keeps the eye contact. His mouth twitches, leaning into something you’d call a smirk. As a reflex you shift your eyes away from him, cheeks heating up in embarrassment from getting caught.

taglist: @pinkcowracing @yourthebrokengirl @skrzydlak @thirddeadlysin @sammararaven @bebe07011 @prettylovley @josephquinnschesthair @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you @names-were-taken @oddussy420

If you want to be tagged when the full fic is posted, just let me know in the replies. Again, I have no idea when that will happen, it's not done yet. Maybe this'll give me the motivation i need

[novankenn]

2am (Chp 4)

--== Table of Contents ==--

It had been nearly three years since that day. The day Jaune Arc walked out of her life. Her legal team had reviewed the documents, and quickly advised her to agree to the terms. They were fair, and had clauses that allowed for amendment of the agreements at later dates, if a need to do so arose. So she signed them as she cried. Memories of times that shouldn't have happened feeding her depression. It had signalled a very dark time in her life, and she spiralled out of control. Loosing herself to drink, risky missions, and other activities.

“What are you doing to yourself!” screamed her mother as Pyrrha nursed a bad hangover on the couch of her mother's house. “Pyrrha, what is going on?”

“I'm fine.”

“No, you're not fine! You are far from fine!” Athena Nikos was livid, embarrassed, and frustrated. “So you are going to tell me what is going on with you, and I mean now!”

“Nothing is going on!” Pyrrha shouted back.

“Really? REALLY?” Athena grabbed a bunch of printed off tabloid articles, and threw them down on the coffee table before her daughter, “He IS a married man, Pyrrha! A married man!”

“His wife's a bitch.”

“And what about that video of you and that girl?” Athena was about to totally lose it. “Are you intentionally trying to destroy yourself? You are better than this! You have a daughter to look out for!”

“I don't have a daughter! She's gone! He took her away!”

“And I wonder why he felt the need to do that? I wonder?”

“Fuck you!”

“No, this is done. Get out of my house! You want to make yourself into a laughingstock then go, go whore yourself out like you have been. Go live in the bottom of a bottle, but you sure as fuck won't be getting any more support from me!” Athena moved to the table, and grabbed another handful of papers, throwing them into her daughter's face, “And here, these are all the contract cancellation notices.”

“What the fuck. They can't...” Pyrrha grabbed a couple of the papers and tried to focus on the fine print of the scattered documents.

“They can and did!” Athena was past livid now. She loved her daughter, and it tore her apart seeing her crumble from stress into addiction. But she was at her wits end at what to do. So finally, much like the father of her granddaughter did, she had to just distance herself. “Out!”

/=/

Jaune and Azalea had moved to Argus not long after Pyrrha had signed the custody and support agreements. He did it for a few reasons. To get away from the memories of his failed attempt at a life with Pyrrha in Vale. To be closer to his eldest sister, her wife and Az's only current cousin; and to be able to at least give Az a chance to know her mother's side of the family with twice weekly over night stays with her grandmother.

He knew Pyr was floundering. Years of constantly being in the public eye finally cracking all her will, and forcing to succumb to the stress, in less than healthy ways. Yet, he had to focus his concerns on Azalea. It was underhanded, he knew, but with tips offs from Az's grandmother, he avoided ever being around the house when Pyrrha was crashing there. He isolated his daughter from the train wreck her mother had become. Jaune didn't want to keep the two most important people in his life apart, but Azalea didn't deserve to see what her mother was becoming. She deserved to only have happy memories of her mother.

On good days, he was more than happy to drop Azalea off at her grandmother's, to spend much needed time with her mother, but those times quickly became less and less. Pyrrha was spiralling, and Jaune instinctively knew he had to protect Az from the disaster that was approaching. He wanted to reach out to Pyrrha, to wrap his arms around her, and make her struggles go away... but right now with what she was doing, it wasn't possible.

The support payments had made his life taking care of his growing girl easier, and allowed him a bit more freedom to pursue his new passion. He had long given up on the huntsman myth. He saw what that life was doing to his friends, and even though he started out wanting to be a hero, after Azalea's birth he understood something more. Heroes didn't have to be warriors fighting darkness, they could be someone offering warm hugs, and soft cheek kisses. He was Azalea's hero, and that was to him the greatest achievement he could have ever accomplished.

It was in the second year after his move to Argus, that Athena made a request of him. He had always been taught to give the courtesy of listening when someone wanted to speak with you, so he did. Without hesitation, agreed, to her request.

[hymnoire]

♣ + ( can I send one in for ga-ram & mara?? If you’re still taking these of course!! )

A letter from Mara to Garam, from the Dongbu penitentiary in Seoul.

       To a friend who became so much more : "For a long time, I didn't feel like the world was made for someone like me. Someone who's a little too raw, a little too rough. I have spent too many years, blood, sweat and tears trying. I tried yes, the hardest I could. And I managed it for a while, to get power, to get status, to get reputation, and I thought : I did it right ? I belong now? And yet it was never enough. I realize now that I lost everything, that the only times I felt like I belong was with you. Stealing your beer and making chili in your crappy apartment, when the outside world just did not exist anymore. I know now, all I needed was to find you, someone who's a little too raw, a little too rough, just like me. I know we don't say these things to each other, I know it's not Us to be like that but, I miss you."

       Send me ♣ + a ship and i’ll tell you…

Who is the better dancer?

Secretly Mara but neither of them wishes to dance in public. They usually simply stand by the counter, by the bar just the two of them, sharing a drink. "Come on you two don't be such a buzz, come and dance!" Would tell them the host of the party before going back to the dancefloor. Garam stays silent and keeps on drinking, he does not move a hinch. "Can't wait to arrest this one for fraud. Look at them all, dancing like they're embezzlement free." Mara replies, sipping on her drink as well. "Yeah well, rich people." Garam comments, not so pleased to be here in the first place. "Shit. Remember that man I told you I would keep an eye on tonight, he's staring at us." Mara speaks as she starts moving. "Ok let's act normal, let's dance. And I don't know, Smile or something. Let's go follow my lead." She would say dragging him there by the arm even if he sighs and complains.

Who likes the outdoors more and who likes the indoors more?

Both are indoors persons. Garam hates crowded places as for Mara, she likes privacy in general : even when meeting with people for business or anything else truly, she avoids to spend too much time surrounded by too many people. So when it's just the two of them, they love to stay inside, it's cozy and silent and comfortable.

Who’s a cat person and who’s a dog person?

Both are dog persons. Mara loves the dogs they train for police duties and get attached to them; she however does not imagine having one at home due to her barely being at her place. She oftens tells Garam a dog would be good company to them, however.

Who’s more social?

None of them which is hilarioius. They avoid socializing and when both trapped in a social situation, they try to call each other for help in order to get out of here fast. The only time it didn't work was when they pushed the door of a pub Mara took Garam to and everyone inside screamed " Surprise!" It was their coworkers, a surprise party for Garam's birthday. Garam leans to Mara for a whisper between his teeth. "Just the two of us you said?", Mara replies "I knooow, they told me to drag you here, my god I hate it. Let's just smile, pretend we care about the present you get, spoiler alert it's a tie it's ugly as fuck - we drink as much as we can, in two hours we get out of here and i don't know.. sex in the car?" Garam thinks of the pros and cons before answering. "Ok fine. 1 hour." He says. "1 hour and a half and you can use the tie on me." Mara adds, sticking her hand out for a handshake to the side. "Ok, deal." He says, shaking her hand with a pinch of a smile before their eyes go back to the crowd of coworkers waiting for them to join the 'party.' "Ugh." He speaks again. "God I know." She adds.

Who makes the bed every morning?

Garam does. Mara is pretty messy in general but as his place is far away enough from the station she works at, she wakes up a little early to avoid traffic. "You're not staying for breakfast?" He questions. "Oh wow breakfast? It's time for The Talk. It was just a one time thing babygirl, I'm not interested in marrying you and carrying your loud babies." Speaks Mara, of course filled of sarcasm. "Shut up." He would say with a side smile on and she would laugh, slipping in her jeans and white t shirt and leather jacket. "Next time. I gotta go, crisis meeting with the higher ups today it's a big deal. Tomorrow night, beer and a movie?" She questions while tying her air up. "Yeah alright." He says. "Good, see you."

Who likes to keep the house cold and who likes to keep the house warm?

Mara likes the warm better, she usually overheats her own apartment so whenever Garam is over, it's too warm for him as he keeps his place cold. "I'm sweating in here." He says. "Oh come on it's the perfect temperature so I can walk in my underwear and look so so so so cuute and sexyy for you." She says with a tiny voice and a cute yet awful pose. "Jesus never say that ever again." He answers. "Ugh you're right that was disgusting-." She says immediatly cutting the act, with a disgusting facial expression. "No for real go take a shower, " He says. "I know I'm such dirty dirty little girl." She adds as she keeps on teasing this time striking another awful pause. This time he laughs. "Shut up and go."

Who takes longer getting ready?

None. Garam doesn't spend much time, first of all he so looks good the way he is, and he doesn't doll himself up nor spend hours choosing his clothes. Mara neither : it isn't that she's not feminine, her femininity comes from how natural she is, she does not wear make up, there is a natural elegance in her monochrome and classic simple fashion sense, it''s rather effortless hence why she does not spend hours getting ready neither.

Who likes scary movies and who likes funny ones?

Funny movies aren't their go to but they like these at least better than horror movies which they find extremely boring and well, unscary. They like movies that make they think, thrillers, psychological movies. Sometimes it's action movies when they look for a no brainer. They actually watch a lot of movies together, it feels peaceful on a saturday night after declining all the invites they received.

Who screams when they see a bug and who ends up killing it?

None of them scream.

Who is more technology challenged?

None.

Who would be more likely to burn something in the kitchen?

They are both comfortable with cooking like responsible adults can be, it's rare for them to burn anything. At first, they used to order food a lot to go with the beers. Mara loves the burgers from that one place in hongdae. One time they did try to order but it was a little too late for that - and so Mara grabbed a pan while Garam was in the shower. "You didn't join me?" He asks once he gets out - it's true she does that sometimes. "As much as I have a thing for water cascading down your abs... " Oh she does. "I thought I could fix us a little something with what was left in your fridge. Now stop distracting me, put some clothes." She jokes. He comes closer and tastes with his fingers. "Huh that's spicy? What is it? Is that Latin cuisine or something?" He questions. "Yeah... It's the only dish my dad could make, back in San Juan. It's simple but it's good, right." Mara answers. "San Juan. I had no idea. Lim Mara doesn't sound so latino." He comments. He never truly asks questions he's afraid she wouldn't be comfortable with. He respects her boundaries, she likes that. "It's Maritza, actually. Maritza Lim Guerrero- Mara is fine." She pauses. "Here, I added, some pepper, tell me how it is."

Who talks in their sleep?

Mara does. Again she is a little bit messy so whenever she sleeps, she speaks, she pulls the blankets, she pushes him. "Next time you're sleeping in your own bed jeez." He says.

Who leaves the cap off the toothpaste?

Mara does and it annoys Garam a lot since he told her 100 times Not to do that.

Who likes getting dressed up more?

They both aren't so interested in fashion and dressing up isn't their main concern. However it does happen for Mara to get herself into soirées and events as she wants to keep and eye on someone for her own agenda, her own investigations as a detective or when she is invited somewhere by the political spheres. She looks breathtaking in long black dresses. "So... How do I look?" She would question Garam as she enters the room. "Are you sure you don't wanna come? As my +1?"

Who’s better at tying ties?

Both. Mara also wear ties sometimes. They help each other tying it up when one of them has something important to get properly dressed up for.

Who recorded the answering machine message on the house phone?

Garam took care of it but when Mara listened to it she couldn't help but to smile to herself, recognizing his signature stoicism. It was close to two words : "Not here." - " You could at least say leave a message, is it too much words?" Mara asks him, to tease.

Who’s better at planning romantic things?

Mara is. Not necessarily wanting it to be romantic but it ends up being romantic. The day after his surprise birthday party with his coworkers, the one he hated, she waits for him at his place and she cooks a little something and lights a few candles lighted up. "What's happening..?" He questions as he sees her at his place, getting everything ready for a night together. "Well, I know you hated yesterday's party but it doesn't mean your birthday shouldn't be celebrated, yeah? I made some chilli. My grandmother's recipe. I found a nice movie we can watch and got you a stupid little hat to put on your head when you blow a candle." She smiles. "Just the two of us. No one else. For real this time."

Who takes up more space in the closet?

None of them. They only have the necessary amount of clothes.

Who has more of a sweet tooth?

For halloween, Mara bought candies. "Is that for the kids?" He questions. "Naa. I thought we could like open the door, tell the kids we don't have any candy and keep them all for ourselves." And so they did.

Who drinks more often?

Mara, as her secrets are becoming heavier and heavier, she tends to drink a lot. Too much. "You're drinking too much." Garam tells her. "I know, I fucking know." She replies, being a mess. "Come on, let's get you home." Garam says with the will of taking care of her in this situation. "I'm fucking pathetic, what the fuck is wrong with me huh." Mara then asks him. "Come on, let's get you to bed." He adds.

Garam also had his moments, after everything that went down with Yohan, his depression and the unwanted memories of it - the alcohol helps whenever his head is too filled. "Hey, just.. put your head down my thighs and close your eyes. Listen to me, let's empty your head." She whispers to him.

Who is most likely to laugh during a serious situation?

Mara. It actually doesn't take long for her to start laughing. Sometimes out of being a total cunt if she wants to point out the absurdity of a situatio, most of the time simply because she cannot remain serious for too long.

[cheemken]

God imagine how traumatized she’d be from seeing someone be murdered in front of her. She’s already so emotionally vulnerable right now and it doesn’t help that the others are “comforting” her by saying how they’re in the right. This is sure to stir up paranoia for her

I’d imagine that this would turn into nightmares which would then turn into many sleepless nights. Many would think that the long hours of her job are making her tired but the people close to her, like Drayden, would know that she’s acting paranoid everyday and getting less and less sleep from nightmares, not her job. On maybe the 4th or 5th night of restless sleep Drayden finally convinces Iris to tell him what’s happening. What’s scaring her so much that she can’t go a full night without waking both of them up with her nightmares. And she’s just clinging to him and trying not to cry when she tells him what she saw, what happened, what they said, and who did it

She’s scared that they’ll do something to her if she tells anyone. That they’ll hurt her or even go as far as to kill her for telling others what they’ve been doing. But she’s tired, scared, and feeling like something is constantly watching her. So she lost the mental battle in her head and told him everything. But…she’s in Unova, away from all the other champions who terrify her. She’s safe from harm and far, far away from them. There’s no way they could know what she’s told him

Oh how wrong she was

Now imagine how defeated she’d feel when she comes home the very next day from work, thinking she’s safe now that Drayden has reported it. But when she walks inside their house she sees him on the floor, not moving. With some of the champions waiting around for her to show up. And now Diantha is standing in front of her, speaking to her like a disappointment mother. Telling her that she has no reason to be crying, because if you step out of line then there is always going to be consequences

Omfs cnsmcnmxnx

God the irony of Diantha being the one to say there's gonna be consequences while probably being the only champion who hasn't faced any consequences from her actions just makes me so fucking insane ncmdhxmd

But also yknow just jcmxndm Dia acting all motherly to Iris tho, crouching down to her level and hugging her, telling her that they had to do what they really had to do, they can't let anyone interfere with them. You should know better. And she's there, cupping her face, wiping away her tears, telling her to calm down, to stop crying, there's no use crying over someone who couldn't even defend himself while being called the Spartan Mayor of Opelucid. But Iris was still sobbing, Drayden was family, her only family, and even tho it's not by blood, she still loves him. And suddenly... Suddenly he's gone. His body unmoving as the other Champions approach her and Diantha.

Dia just pulls her close to her, going on how it'll all be fine, perhaps it was even Drayden that's holding her back on becoming a true Champion, but Diantha kept that thought within her for the meantime, if you want a child to believe you, tell them the things they want to hear.

And soon, Iris could feel Lance next to them, his arms around them too, pulling them close to him, and he's there telling Iris that she shouldn't worry too, that they're her family now too, and they were just looking out for her.

God Iris was just so so tired man, she's so fucking tired, she's physically and mentally drained, and she just melted in their touch, finally caving in, letting them comfort her. And god as twisted as it was, she somewhat felt a bit safe under their embrace.

But also imagine how the people of Opelucid and the Unova League would react tho ncmxnx like, that's their mayor, a gym leader too, and suddenly he's dead and Iris is mourning and the other champions are there to help her and such. But like, imagine if that'd stir up some rumours tho, especially given Lance and Leon's images towards the public now, that maybe they actually killed Drayden. Imagine a few people of Opelucid pulling Iris away from the champions a bit and telling them what they thought what happened, but Iris already knew, and if she had to be honest she doesn't wanna see anyone else dying, so she tells them that "no, grandpa was just.. struggling with health issues for a while now.. he was always so stubborn he didn't wanna go to the hospital.. maybe that's just it.."

And ofc, they believed her, no use insisting their theories and rumours are right, especially to the actual granddaughter of the person they're talking about, who they know is still mourning over the loss of her grandfather. So instead, they nodded and told her if there's anything they can do to help her and the rest of the League, she could just ask for their help.

But like, imagine Iris being so bitter abt that tho. Now they try to help her? It only took Drayden's death for them to help her? For them to see her as an actual person and not just some kid who kept insisting she's mature enough to be a champion? It actually made her laugh a bit, a pitiful chuckle really, and she drags herself back home, back where all the champions are waiting for her.

[sloane-elettra]

#huntsvilleintro

the basics;

FULL NAME: Sloane Selene Elettra

NICKNAME: S, Slo, Lo

GENDER: Female

PRONOUNS: She/Her

AGE: Forty-Six

OCCUPATION: Manager @ The Sasquatch

RESIDENCE: The Town

RESIDENT or VISITOR: Resident

HUNTER or GATHERER: Hunter

TITLE: The Alpha

FACECLAIM: Sarah Michelle Gellar

tw; kidnapping, death mention, general aftermath trauma

the bio;

sloane elettra was born and raised in huntsville.

her parents were both teachers and were both heavily involved in the community and would help any one that asked for their help. they were people that gave everything they could as they believed that kindness went a long way in life. and for a while kindness did go far, the elettra family had a friend in everyone around town until some drifter moved through town and took advantage of the kind nature of her parents. they had wormed their way into the family at the same time had taken quite an interest in sloane. it wasn't long before the drifter was leeching from her parents and sloane wasn't happy about it and how her parents were being taken advantage of. she pleaded to her parents to open their eyes but the warnings were falling on stubborn ears. when sloane was nineteen, she was stolen away in the night by the drifter, leaving behind the corpses of two parents who had desperately tried to protect their daughter when they had realised too late what they had exposed their family to.

for five months sloane was missing. one hundred and forty seven days to be precise. sloane knew, she had counted.

the night of her escape came when the drifter tried once again to get a certain kind of too close to her and when her restraints where loose, sloane lashed out. she had grabbed a nearby lamp and smacked him over the head with it and smacked him again...and again...and again. dropping the lamp to the floor, she made a dash for the door and sprinted as fast and as far as she could. it was pure luck that sometime later she was found wandering the highway by another huntsville resident that knew she was missing. she was returned to town and faced with the news of her parents deaths. by the age of twenty, sloane had experienced more than enough in one life time for a human being.

twenty six years later and its obvious that what had happened to her had a lasting effect. sloane is not a woman to be trifled with and has a fight or fight response, there's no flight in her system. she's cautious and suspicious of all newcomers into town, and part of the reason of her taking the job at the sasquatch years ago was down to her need to check out all the town newbies to make sure they weren't like the drifter. when she's not in the bar, she can be found out with the other hunters. a role she finds therapeutic as much as resourceful.

sloane doesn't take fools lightly and will be quick to tell you to piss off if you're annoying her or making an ass of yourself in the bar. she can be harsh and distant, but it's down to her trust issues over anything else. letting her guard down doesn't come easy and even at forty-six, she's still learning to do that.

other notes;

+ her kidnapping and her parents murder is all public knowledge & was peak news at the time.

+ big mama bear energy for the people she cares about

+ will fuck you up if you mouth off to her, her fellow employees (or anyone she cares about in general)

+ will punch first, talk later

+ would clearly benefit from therapy, doesn't go

+ has a strict no asshole policy @ the bar

+ the bar doesn't need security, she's the security. given that, she will give people the respect she is met with. as long as you don't piss her off, you'll be just fine.

+ since her kidnapping, she's never been in relationships long term. she struggles to let her guard down

the possible connections;

friends

besties

long term resident friends/besties

customers

acquaintances

enemies

ex's

patients

co-workers

neighbours

"the drifter"

open to any and all plots/connections & if you'd like to plot with bowie or would even just like to have a chat, please feel free to drop me a message any time

will add to this as i go along but this is the general outline