#have a weird woman shaking a bell at you!

[munsster]

red wine supernova

A/N: guys... i know this is a sapphic song but hear me out on this one.... the lyrics go too well with eddie to ignore 😖 (gif creds: @keery)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Bimbo!Reader

Summary: “Baby, why don't you come over? / Red wine supernova, falling into me” 2.9k words

Warnings: fluff, dumbass pining x2, best friends to lovers, a few kisses, broody & high eddie, cursing, pet names (teddy, bug), teenage boys, underage drinking/smoking

"Hi, teddy!"

It rings in his ears like church bells. Then Eddie sees you and you're drenched in golden sunlight even though it's afternoon and the school halls provide no source of natural light. So maybe you're just beautiful. A vision in go-go boots.

Totally not his type, though.

"Hey," Eddie sighs, exhuasted from the hour and a half English lecture he just suffered. Not to mention, he was already exhuasted from the fact that he barely slept the night before. Which was maybe, possibly, perhaps caused by his overthinking about that nice shade of lipstick you always wear.

"How was Lit?"

"Shit."

You giggle, "that rhymed!" His heart skips a beat.

You're side by side down the halls—you always walk to lunch together—and, like clockwork, you tease him about trying to hold your hand when his ringed fingers brush your wrist. Of course, he would. In a heartbeat, he'd have his fingers clasped with yours like that's what they are molded for. But people would stare, and that's more of a hassle than he’d prefer.

Don't get him wrong, he doesn't actually give a shit about people staring at him, he just doesn't want to give anyone anymore reasons to stare at you. In disgust. Or loathing. With whatever judgements they'd make. Names they'd call you. He's been through the ringer, he'd never drag you along with him.

You're chattering about the state of your new, pink jellies when Eddie catches someone throwing you an off glance. He tries not to think too much of it, and he's not like jealous or anything, but every snicker and whisper sets him off. You're bubbly and kind and it's not fair people look at you different when you're with him.

"You ever notice how people look at us?"

You tilt your head at him as you round the corner of the cafeteria doors.

"You mean like how Dustin makes funny faces when I compliment your hair?"

"No, I mean like that," he huffs, pointing right at the judgemental stares of Melissa and Nicole, who promptly turn away with a gasp. He shakes his head. "And I like when you compliment my hair."

"Well, I like your hair." You smile at him as he pulls out a chair for you. You're the first ones to the table.

"Thank you, bug." Eddie ducks into his own seat, tapping his heavy fingers against the tabletop. "Off topic. I'm saying, you never notice people look at us... funny?"

The metal clasps of your limited edition Disco Fever lunchbox clack against the side as you unfold the lid. Your face contorts, considering the scenarios you've devised in your head if anyone was ever rude to Eddie in front of you. Let's just say your self-defense knowledge would come in handy.

"I guess I notice sometimes, but I just don't care. I like you lots more than I like them," you say, shrugging it off, "And I know how to fight."

His heart swells, face rosy, ears hot as an oven. Of course, you'd say that. You always know what to say.

Too bad you're not his type.

Dustin plops down in the seat across from you, nearly gagging at the way Eddie ogles at you.

"Would you get a fuckin' room already—!"

"Language," you both holler.

"Jinx!" you chirp. "You owe me a soda."

"I'll get you a soda, bug," Eddie hums. Dustin considers stocking his backpack with those little bags they give you on airplanes just in case.

...

"Weird Science or The Woman in Red?"

You're perched on the floor of his living room, wearing silk shorts and a cami. You weigh both tapes in your manicured hands like it'll tell you anything about the quality of the films inside.

"Somethin' to say about Kelly LeBrock, bug?"

"Steve suggested them! And he gave me a discount, so I couldn't just say no," you say with such a dazzling smile on your face, he thinks you're the nicest girl he's ever met. Or, at least, the nicest he's ever seen, no contest.

Just, not his type.

"Go figure," he says, "Weird Science."

"'Cause of the mutant bikers?" You beam up at him where he sits on the couch.

"'Cause of the mutant bikers."

It makes you giggle, which makes him smile like an idiot.

Then Hellfire pours onto Eddie's front porch bearing gifts of humongous chip bags and a six pack of cheap beer. He jumps a little at the doorbell, and you spring up to open the floodgates for the rowdy group of boys. They greet you excitedly and spread themselves across the rest of the couch, an armchair, and the floor.

Dustin tosses you a bag of pop rocks, and you blow a kiss in thanks, promising to bring him by the arcade next week. Eddie feels so far from you, even though your shoulders are pressed between his knees. But he can't see you or talk to you, your attention is divided, and he can't help but feel a little needy. You smack Dustin's hand when he reaches for a beer, and he whines about Mike sneaking one.

"What movie did the love birds choose?" Gareth asks. Eddie takes out a baggie of weed.

"Weird Science!" you coo, slotting the tape into the VCR. Gareth celebrates, sloshing his beer can against the coffee table as the rest of the boys high five and howl. You roll your eyes affectionately.

You laugh, smacking Jeff on the arm. “Oh, you’re all horny perverts.”

Gareth salutes, “At your service!” Which earns him a playful flick upside the head. The opening credits roll, and you stand triumphantly.

“I have to pee, but you guys can let it roll while I’m gone!” you chirp, skipping off down the hall of the mobile home.

As soon as you’re out of ear shot, Dustin whips around to scowl at Eddie who exhales a slow puff from the neon pink bong you gifted him last year. He passes it to Gareth and crosses his arms over his chest.

“I can’t tell what’s worse,” Dustin huffs, “The fact that you’re so oblivious or the fact that she is, too.”

Eddie squints. “What?”

Dustin deadpans.

“Dude, even I can tell you two like each other,” Mike chimes in, “Will thought you were dating from two thousand miles away. Over the phone.”

“You guys are fucking high. We are not dating,” Eddie says.

Mike shrugs. “You should be.”

“Okay, twerp, I’m not taking romantic advice from someone in a long distance relationship.”

“He’s right,” Dustin barks.

“That means you, too, twerp. Besides. Not my type.” Eddie sighs and slumps into the cushions, reaching his arms above his head.

“Yeah, right,” Lucas says, “If she’s not your type, then who is?”

“I don’t know, but she’s not.”

Gareth rolls his eyes. “Sounds like a lame excuse for your cowardice.” Eddie’s jaw drops, and he grabs for his bong.

“You did not just say that to me.”

“I meant it.”

You bumble back into the room, and the conversation screeches to a halt, Gareth whipping back towards the screen with Eddie’s eyes still burning holes in the back of his head.

“What did I miss?”

“Nothing,” they grumble.

Eddie smiles when you plop down next to him on the creaky couch. He can’t focus on the movie with the stray glances he’s catching from the younger boys and the soft looks you offer every so often. Maybe he is gutless. Because when he thinks about you, he’s floored. Then—knee jerk—he has to justify his racing heart with the fact that he could never be into you. But he is. You’re beautiful and funny and sweet to him. You are his type.

Not halfway into the film, Dustin whines, “I’m bored. Can we play a game? Like spin the bottle or kiss marry kill or something?”

“First of all,” Eddie says, “there’s only one chick here, we’re not playing spin the bottle. Second, are you five years old?”

You scoff and pat Eddie on the thigh. “Hey! I’m with Dustin. Truth or dare?”

“Works for me,” Jeff interjects. Eddie glares at him, grabbing his bong from the table. “Truth or dare, Eddie.”

He exhales a puff of smoke, shaking his head.

“Truth”—The boys’ heads turn, wicked smiles on their faces like predators eyeing him up—“Fuck, dare.”

Jeff cocks a brow.

“I don’t like this game,” Eddie says.

“Do you have a crush on anyone?”

“I said dare.”

Jeff grins. “I dare you to tell me if you have a crush on anyone.”

Dustin, Lucas, and Mike chuckle.

“Fuck you all. Yeah, fine, I do. Next,” Eddie grumbles.

“It’s your turn, teddy,” you coo.

“Right. Dustin, truth or dare.”

“Easy. Truth,” he says.

“Is it fun being a little shit?”

You shove his side. “Eddie!”

“Why, yes. Yes, it is.”

“Great,” Eddie huffs.

“Awesome.” Dustin glares at him.

The game continues just like that, a vicious cycle of sarcasm and glares. It’s a little more lighthearted when Lucas asks you if you have a special skill. Without responding, you ask for a deck of cards and stand in front of the screen.

“You boys like magic?”

A few nod, the rest too stunned to speak as you show them a card, the queen of diamonds, and shuffle the deck a few times. You pull a card from the deck, and the boys lean in, anticipating the red queen. You spin the card, and they groan when you reveal the eight of clubs.

“That’s not our card, bug,” Eddie says. He expects you to be disappointed, but you grin and set the deck on the table.

“I know.” Their eyes widen when you reach into the top of your shorts, a card pinched between your fingers. The queen of diamonds. “This is.”

You toss the card, and the boys grab for it. Eddie gulps and shifts in his seat, couch squealing beneath him. Lucas pelts the hard-won card at Eddie, and you curtsy before heading back to your seat.

…

Just as the game gets a little tired, Dustin shoots his hand into the air. “My turn!”

“Okay, but this is the last one—”

Dustin shouts your name.

“Yes?”

“Truth or dare?”

You pretend to contemplate before chirping, “Dare!”

Eddie leans his head back, lulling to the side to watch you smile at Dustin. You catch Eddie staring and stick your tongue out at him. He winks.

“I dare you… to kiss the person on your right.”

“Geez, how long did it take you to come up with that one,” Eddie mumbles. But you look to your right, and Eddie looks kind of uninterested, glazed over and staring at the ceiling.

“That doesn’t seem very consensual,” you say, brows knitted just as Eddie lifts his head. Dustin glares expectantly at Eddie who slowly sits up and turns his head, smirking at you.

“You can kiss me, bug. So long as you promise not to bite.”

Eddie’s relieved when you giggle and set your hand on his knee.

“If you say so!” You lean closer, and he blushes at the new proximity. Despite his nerves, he just can’t look away, eyes locked with yours. You huff when it feels like he’s staring straight into your soul. But you’re smiling so sweetly, even with all the rascals chanting ‘do it!’.

You shift your weight and hold onto his shoulder as he slips his arm around your waist so you don’t teeter off the couch. He nods, tip of his nose just brushing yours. You press your lips to his quickly, and he can sense your nerves when you pull away and look down.

Everyone cheers.

You look into his eyes again, and your face relaxes, the heat not so unbearable when you see his smile. You duck to kiss him again, his arm tighter on your waist. He tries not to smile, but you hum softly and, suddenly, he’s a puddle in your fingers.

You pull away when someone whistles, your ears rushing with blood as you drop your feet to the floor and look away, face burning.

Eddie clears his throat. “Alright, you pervs got what you wanted. Can we finish this damn movie already?”

“It’s kinda late,” you hum, “I don’t wanna be driving too close to the witching hour.”

“Wait, what?” Gareth says, watching you stand and shuffle into your slippers by the door.

“Sorry, guys. Just… superstititous.” They wouldn’t have believe you if you hadn’t said it with a genuine smile on your face. Eddie hops up from his seat and follows you.

“I’ll walk you out, bug.”

“Ooh,” Dustin teases. Jeff slaps a hand over his mouth, and Dustin mumbles an expletive against it.

Your little, red coupe is sidled right up next to his van. He always keeps the spot closer to the door open for you. His hands are tucked into the pockets of his jacket, your arms crossed over your chest to keep out the cold. He winces.

“You sure you don’t wanna stay? I can take the floor,” Eddie says, shucking his jacket and wrapping it over your shoulders. You smile.

“Such a gentleman.”

He rolls his eyes.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, teddy,” you whisper, craning your neck to kiss his cheek. Your heart-shaped keychain jangles against the car door as you slot the silver key into the lock. When you get the door open and glance at him, he’s stone faced where he leans against the back window.

“Wait,” he huffs.

“Yeah?”

Eddie can feel himself flailing, hands shaky at his sides when you look at him. He can’t tell if it’s because of the cold or his nerves or how worried you look or the fact that this could be his only chance. Don’t be a coward. He expects you to get tired of it. Eventually, you’ll have to let go, but right now, you stand there and wait for him. Oh.

“Sorry, bug. I’m pretty high right now.”

“I don’t mind.” You shrug when he rubs the back of his neck and chuckles softly. “You okay?”

He shakes his head. “You’re so sweet. And you’re so nice to me. God, you’re so pretty.”

“Thank you, Eddie,” you coo, standing close enough to feel the warmth radiate from his chest. He nods slowly, glancing down at your lips.

“Yeah.”

You thumb over the leftover slip of paper in the pocket of his jacket. And you smile, remembering when you passed him that note in chem last thursday.

Eddie sucks in a breath, sighing, “You make me so nervous.” You blink hard, and he’s seering hot under the warm light filtering through the trailer windows. “And you’re so fascinating.”

“Fascinating?!”

“Yeah,” he whispers.

“That’s a new one. ‘S that a good thing?” you say, head tilted watching him push his fingers through his hair.

“Yeah, it’s a good thing. Fascinating is good. To me.” You swear his eyes twinkle a little when he looks at you.

“Well,” you nod, “Thank you.”

“Yeah.” And he can’t stop himself from taking selfish glimpses at your mouth. He feels so stupid for how long he denied his genuine attraction to you. His crush on you. You’d laugh if you knew what went on in his head. “I liked kissing you.”

You take a deep breath, and he steels himself for rejection. He thinks, why should you want anything to do with him after he’s acted so indifferent towards you all this time.

“I liked kissing you, too, teddy.” Holy fuck.

He grins. “You’re my type.” At first, you think he’s joking, but even a blind man could tell Eddie was dead serious. “Textbook description of it, bug. You’re my type.”

You look into his eyes again, trying to gauge if he’s fucking with you. He has to know that you’ve liked him for years. He has to. It’s not like the boys have been subtle about it.

“I… am flattered,” you coo, “Where’s all this coming from?”

“Just. From me. You know? It’s always been there. Had a crush on you forever, just had to tell you now.”

You nod, biting back a grin and shuffling a little closer. He’s absolutely buzzing when you curl your fingers into his bicep.

“Can I kiss you?” His head is spinning when you nod and press up against him. He’s sure you can feel his heart pounding. Especially when you press your delicate palm right to it. His hand fits gently against your hip.

Now, it’s his turn to kiss you. His lips are so soft against yours, tender like he’s nervous you’ll shatter. You giggle and reach for the back of his neck, your mouths falling open against each other in a fit of excitement and heat. He tugs you closer when your tongue slips into his mouth; he doesn’t mean to, but he feels himself smile and spread his hand across your lower back.

Eddie pulls away, eyes flicking wildly across your face just before he pecks your mouth again.

“Bug?”

You nod, eyes refusing to open as he kisses your cheek.

“Be my girlfriend?”

“Yes, teddy, I will!”

You tug him down by the collar to kiss him ferocious, his cheeks instinctively hot with your baby pink fingernails gentle on his neck. You can hear the cheers and high-fives from inside the house, exclamations of ‘finally!’ and ‘i knew it’.

Then Dustin hollers, “Fuck yeah!”

And you both shout, “Language!” just before falling into each other in a fit of giggles.

stranger things masterlist

[netherfeildren]

Kiss, Kiss, Kill, Kill!

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: Joel is a long haul truck driver. One day he finds a pretty girl in a diner and decides he’d like to keep her. 

Murder and sex ensue!

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: No outbreak; Graphic depictions of violence; Murder; Blood; Gore; Threat of SA; Impotence; Unprotected sex; Creampie; Loss of virginity; Virginity kink; Breeding kink; Spit kink; Rough sex; Pussy slapping; Dark!Joel; Mean!Joel (also kinda crazy and pathetic); Obsessive behavior; Possessive behavior; Discussions of suicidal ideations; Unreliable narrators; Alcoholism; Consensual non consent kind of (But not previously discussed - they're both into it tho); Use of misogynistic language; Grief

A/N: Hi :) Another one just bc I have no self control. 

Parts of the narrative read a little disjointed and/or confusing. This is intentional. I was kind of trying something weird out here, I guess.

Word Count: 9.7K

Read on AO3

The first time Joel sees you, it’s a Thursday. His least hated day of the week, but not his favorite, for he doesn’t really have any favorite things anymore. Your eyes’d stunned him at that first look. They sparkled as if dusted with frost – speared him with an intensity that burned. 

But no… that was a lie, and Joel is trying not to be such a liar anymore. He does have one favorite thing now. This middle-of-nowhere diner, this place where’d he’d found you. 

The first time he’d actually talked to you, you’d interrupted his own stubborn, sour silence with a silence of your own. Different, agonizing, compared to your usual persistent fishing for his attention. 

“What’re you doin’ out here in this wasteland, sweetheart?” Because you look sweet as that cherry pie you’re always trying to push on him. 

“Been here my whole life.” It’s verging on evening, the sky gone to melancholy, and there’s a young girl with dark hair weeping on the shoulder of an older woman in the booth over. He wants to snap at her, demand to know what the fuck she could possibly have to cry over? He’s sure she mustn’t have a dead daughter like him, and so there really seems to be no reason for tears. 

“No plans to leave?”

You shake your head, hum a little, set the coffee pot down on the edge of the table to pop a hip out and think on your answer. “Guess you could say I’m a little bit weak or scared, don’t know.”

“Doubt that,” a surprised laugh forced out of him. Entirely improbable, he knows this just by looking at you. “You’ve got eyes that seem as if they’ve never held fear within them in your entire life.” And he makes you laugh at that, head thrown back, throat rippling. The sound like the tolling of the bell indicating the start of the rest of his life. 

When you’re done gifting him your laughter, you ask, “What about you? Why are you here?”

“My daughter died.” Plain. 

Your eyes seem to shutter or flicker, something like a chimera about them, “When?”

“Two years ago.” He watches the crying girl and the old woman get up to go. And then the two of you are alone. You move to sit in the booth across from him. He’d been coming in here to see you for more than half that time since, and now, the first time the two of you are having an actual conversation, and this is what he’s decided to open with. But really, it’s the only story he has to tell anymore. He watches you watch him for a long moment, as though you’re searching for something within him, or mulling over what it is you want to say to him, the shift of your jaw from side to side as you chew on your words. He feels easily frightened now – fragile – and yet vibrantly malignant, at the same time. A juxtaposition on two opposite ends of the spectrum of good and not so good, or perhaps, verging on very, terribly bad, in the grocery store line of human morality. Two Joel’s at the start and end of the queue who could not seem to come to terms with one another. Enemies – they were enemies of each other. A Joel who’d once had a daughter, and a Joel who now did not. A Joel who’d pulled a trigger at his own temple, and one who’d never even considered such a thing. He draws his finger along the line of scar tissue at his temple.

For a long time he’d wanted to tear a hole in his world and escape, but he was no master of inventiveness. On the contrary, he found his attempt rather miserly – had short changed himself at the last moment and flinched. But perhaps, it had been for this reason – for you, to find you. He wishes he could peer inside your mind, crack open your skull and read everything you’re hiding away from him inside there. A violent thought, but you make him feel slightly violent, or – no, that’s not it – for Joel is already a violent man. It’s more that you pull a specific hue of violence out of him, incite it, like he needs to move, to howl, to claw at something, at you, scream and scream and scream to keep your undivided attention on him forever. 

“I’m sorry for your loss,” you say finally, voice quiet. “How old was she?”

His loss. That was a funny way of putting it. It had never felt like a loss. The word was too small. Four letters was not enough to describe what it really was. There was no word for what it felt like. An emaciation of his very self until he simply ceased to exist. Something that had sucked his soul, his heart, his brain out of his body, but they didnt feel lost. They felt destroyed, decimated, or like they had never existed. Sometimes the feeling left him confused, disoriented – this strange purgatory he’d been relegated to, it was like it had never happened in his mind sometimes, or like it had happened to a different man. Like that life with that beautiful little girl with the green eyes who’d had a father who loved her, who’d then died, had happened to someone else. Someone who wasn’t Joel. Like a war that had raged and raged for centuries, and now nothing was left in its wake. Only that terribly fraught reminder of a violence too grotesque for a human mind to conceive. 

How could he miss something, wish for something so, so, so fucking desperately he’d peel his very skin from his body himself to get it back, but also feel like it didn’t belong to him anymore? Like it had never happened to him, like he remembered it out of his own body? A dream that belonged to someone else, and Joel’d only been told of it second hand. His mind was fractured now, he knew this. He wasn't right – broken or glued together the wrong way. His bones didn’t fit in his joints the way they were supposed to anymore. He was all wrong and ugly and fucked. 

“She was twelve.”

“My whole family’s dead,” you say it almost casually, with a half shrug of your shoulders. “Is that why you started driving? To get away?”

He’s been a long haul truck driver for going on two years now. Started just after Sarah – needed to get away, to get lost. He didn’t enjoy it – he does not enjoy it. Not because the work is bad or boring or what have you, but because he doesn’t enjoy anything anymore. But it’s productive and pays well and… well, he does appreciate the solitude. There is that, at least. He’d been on the route from New Mexico to Washington for several months now, and it was fine. Occasionally, he’d head up to the Dakotas – not so fine, longer, harder trek, but he managed it. He preferred this one, preferred the darkness of the north west corner of the country. He never went further south than New Mexico, though. Absolutely never into Texas. He’d never go back there again. 

“Sure… to get away.” He couldn’t be there anymore afterwards, had nothing left. “My neighbor, Anna, she’s got a teenager, Ellie. Sweet kid. Weird kid,” he laughs fondly, remembering the two of them. “The kid was friends with my daughter, Sarah. And after everything– well, after everything, Anna made sure they both stuck around. Didn’t let me shut myself away the way I wanted to,” ill-shaven recluse, confused, fractured, “They’re good people. You’d like them, I think. They’re… they’re my friends.” They were another reason he kept doing the driving, he liked to send money back to Anna and Ellie. He knew they didn’t need it, didn’t want it, but he had to. He needed to feel like he was still taking care of someone, contributing to someone’s well being. It was just part of who he was. 

“I’m sure I would.”

He watches your silent enrapture as you listen to him tell you of his pseudo life. After a while he’d realized that was all he’d started doing, making his way back to you, to this diner where you work. A sad place for ugly men to stop in on a pause from their interminable journeys and lay eyes on an angel. He hadn’t even really realized that’s what he was purposely doing or that it’d become a pattern. He just needed something to see at the end of the tunnel, a light to look towards when he was lost in the darkness. That’s what you are, a single flickering light in the abyss of darkness he exists in now. 

You’re small – tiny compared to Joel’s own hulking size. He thinks he could break you, easily, if he isn’t careful, if he so felt like it. And you were – you are so fucking pretty. He thinks of you so often. Almost as often as he thinks of his dead daughter which might seem wrong or strange, but it’s really nothing more than the two opposite ends of a spectrum of perfect beauty that he’s known within his lifetime that now he cannot reach either end of. Sarah – dead, forever out of reach. And you. Too perfect for consideration, too beautiful and good for these monstrous hands of his. The thing he’s become in his grief is not worthy of a gorgeous creature like you. His existence post Sarah’s death had become some sort of apocalyptic dysphoria where the only monster here was Joel. But he does like to watch, and he does like to think of you. To come to your diner and sit and watch you serve coffee to your customers – the scum that muddles through here isn’t worthy of laying eyes on you – men like him. Sometimes, when he sits here silently, pretending to ignore you and not be entirely beguiled by you, he feels as if he has a purpose again, like the money for Anna and Ellie, getting to inconspicuously watch over you, make sure no one gives you a hard time gives him purpose. And when he goes, even though he never really wants to, he takes you with him in his mind through the long stretches of his hauls. When there are nothing but ghosts to keep him company. When thoughts of Sarah and that dead life become too overwhelming, he calls you to mind, plans his routes to make his way back to you. 

You’re also fucking persistent – not giving him the chance to wallow away in his silence and brooding. He was rude at first, gruff and unresponsive and wouldn’t ever acknowledge your queries of, How’s it going today, and, Oh, back again I see. Sometimes he wanted to snap and just spit the truth at you, ‘course, I’m fuckin’ back, I’m here to see you, I’m obsessed with you. And rounds and rounds of, Can I get you another cup of coffee? The same as usual? You’d memorized his order. Pestered and pestered and pestered for his name until he’d finally ceded it to you, and, How ‘bout some cherry pie this time? After a while you’d gotten sick of his recalcitrant bullshit and just dropped off the piece of pie, slipping it onto the edge of the table and sliding away without a word or a half look back at him. He’d eaten the whole damn thing, savored it, and caught your sassy, little smirk after he’d finished. He’d wanted to bend you over the counter and spank your ass until you cried after that. He bets you’d taste as sweet as that pie, that if he slapped your cunt enough times he could get it red as a cherry. He bets you’d like that – that you’d like it a little rough, a little dirty, a little mean. You might look like an angel, but Joel’s seen the way you look at him, the way you follow him with your eyes, leaning against the counter, chin cupped in your small palm watching him eat his eggs and drink his coffee. 

You want him. 

But Joel is frightened – frightened and cowardly and not right, and as much as you look like an angel, he also worries you might have the ability to entice him into very, very bad things – to provoke him into depravity, even. There is a part of him, large or small given the day and the mood and the weather that he walks in here on, that has the rotten half of his mind whispering at the not-so-rotten half that he wants to defile and debase you, and that he’s pretty sure you’d like it if he did. He wants to fuck you full of his come and then watch it leak out of your used, gaping hole. Then he wants to lick you clean, kiss it all better so that he can do it all over again.

The first few times he’d stopped at your diner, he’d pretended he hadn’t even noticed you, would lie to himself in his mind and tell himself that he had no interest in a little thing like you. He had no interest in women, in making connections, in having conversations. Occasionally… well– no, not occasionally. Twice, it had happened twice now, when the urge had struck, the itch had become too persistent, and his hand not enough, he’d gotten a hooker. The first time he’d shut down completely, lost his hard on and not been able to finish. The second time… he’d finished. He might’ve even made the woman come, he hadn’t bothered to ask, but he thought he might have. Then he’d gone back to his truck and cried great heaving sobs. Like he’d said… not right, he wasn’t right anymore. Couldn’t even fuck a whore without blubbering like a baby. He’d wondered if perhaps his grief had made him impotent. That’d be funny. That type of funny thing that is also a humiliation… you know the sort?

But after a while, the lie had become too much of a farce, even for his own mind. He knew, from that first moment he’d walked in, and you’d spun around, a bright smile and chirpy, little voice telling him to sit anywhere you’d like, be right with you, mister, that he’d taken notice. More than notice. He’d put you in his pocket that day and had carried you with him in some way since. Like a stone chosen off the beach, washed up by the tide and deposited in the sand just for him to come across, or maybe like a fucking infection, like the plague, for he did not want this. He did not want to think of you. He did not want to think of anyone or anything. He wanted to be alone and without anything or anyone for the rest of his life. If he did not have anyone, if he remained alone, then he could never again experience that loss which was not truly a loss, but something much worse and devastating, and even, perhaps, a little hilarious, in that way that a hilarious thing can also sometimes be humiliating and shameful… there it is. A loss that is not a loss for it is a thing so devastating it becomes something else entirely. A humiliation to one’s very existence, a decimation, emaciation, all the things, all the things, and nothing at the same time.

His mind was wont to ramblings, on occasion now. Perhaps, incoherence, was the better word. Anxiety, as well, panic, tears. Couldn’t even fuck a hooker without weeping, howling, a few sobs. 

He had wandered so far, and sometimes he thought, I want to go home, but of course, that home no longer existed. It had been put in the ground two years ago and lost forever. The dissatisfaction of constant ennui. He could, perhaps, return to the geographical place, but nothing familiar would remain. He couldn’t live with the memory, he couldn’t live away from it. It was like it had simply ceased to exist that day that she’d died, and every moment since that moment was just a series of moments filled with a yearning for some place that no longer existed. He didn’t think he’d ever again feel at home anywhere.

And yet…

He turns back to look at you. 

“How did they die? Your family.”

“Home invasion – murdered. He never found me, hid in the boiler closet.”

“Little rabbit.”

“Hmm,” a huff of a laugh, “Maybe. Someone once said I was lucky. Pretty fucked up, no?”

“Do you feel lucky?”

“Never. Angry – that I’d been left behind.”

“Yeah…”

“Alone.”

“Are you alone?”

You turn back to him. Inspect him. He watches the slant of your eyes take in his hair, his face, wrinkled, haggard, his chest, his arms – he feels a flush flare beneath his ribs, then back up to his eyes. He wonders if you’ve ever been fucked before. You’re young – but he can’t imagine how you wouldn’t have been. He thinks he’d do anything in this moment to get between your thighs, but also, he hopes you haven’t, hopes you could be all his, only his, his his. Mine. 

He hopes he won’t cry if he gets the chance. 

“Entirely,” you say finally. 

“I had– have– ” shakes his head, “I have, I guess, a brother. Tommy. But the last time I saw him… I was horrible.” They seldom saw each other now – lie – they never saw each other now. Truth, Joel. We’re telling the truth now. 

You laugh lightly, shrug, “Happens.”

“Sure…”

“What’d you do to him?”

“Ah, just couldn’t get a handle on myself after everything. Things got bad enough eventually, and we fought… a lot. Violently. I was violent. One morning I got out of hand, terrible – one of my biggest regrets. We hurt each other with our words and our fists, and in that way only two people who know each other too well can. He cracked my ribs, gave me half his orange in the evening, afterwards – said our apologies. He was gone the next day. Haven’t heard from him since. I just got to be too much for him,” he says again, needs to reiterate it, make sure you understand that he is too much and too dark, too unmanageable – ugly. That you should not be sat here with him. That he has a violence within him, and that you should probably run as fast and as far as you can, but that he cannot promise he will not follow. “I had…” he is ashamed of this part, surprising for he sometimes wonders if he still possesses the heart to feel shame, “I had a problem with drink for a while – not anymore, though,” he says quickly. “I promise, not anymore.” He should not be promising you anything. “I got control of it – knew it was making it all worse rather than better. Felt like I was trapped underwater with my damn ghosts – that … What's that thing called when – when sick people get like – like trapped inside themselves or somethin’? You ever heard’a that?”

-

“Locked-in syndrome.”

“Yeah– yeah. I read about that once or heard it somewhere – that’s what it felt like when I was drinkin’ – fuckin’ terrible. Let it go after a while… but by that time… Tommy was gone, done with me. I was – dunno… like some sort of demon or somethin’ – somethin’ bad.” He huffs a small, derisive laugh, looks at you with that ridiculously charming, crooked half smile. 

That laugh sparks a kindling of anger inside of you for him. This is a broken, angry, creature of a man, you think. Something fractured – not whole, and he must be handled with care and gentleness. “How could he just leave you?

“Didn't give him a choice. Sometimes people deserve to be left.”

“I wouldn’t have.” That sobers him, wipes the smile right off his handsome face. You think of the invisible giants hurting this man in some unimaginable fashion; of the endless tenderness coiled up inside of him and how the crushing of that tenderness – the death of it – has given way to what may be considered madness. Because after all these months of watching him, of him watching you, you can see it, recognize that tenderness for what it is, but also the madness, for it is impossible to ignore if you’re really looking. Soft marrow at the center of a hard man. 

“I did other things… worse things.”

“Try me.”

“I tried to kill myself.”

You whistle, long and low. You actually had not been expecting that one, at least, not the admittance of it, “You’re just full of truths,” for looking at him – the sort of man he’s built as, the thought that he could be felled by anything, even his own hand, is a little hard to believe. 

“Feels like a sort of confessional in this–”

“Shithole–”

“Diner–”

Your voices overlap. You both laugh. You think you quite like the sound of your voices intermingling one on top of the other. 

“What happened?”

“Flinched–”

“I flinch all the time.”

“Have you ever thought about killing yourself?”

You hum, tilt your head side to side on your neck as if you’re letting the thought slide from ear to ear within your skull. “Perhaps only the peripheral idea of it, but never with much imagination or dedication. I don’t think I have that much to kill myself over, you know?”

“Your family?”

“Not really – it’s sort of become just this… this thing that happened once. I don’t feel much ownership over it anymore. Don’t know why, exactly.”

“Sure, that’s how I feel about it sometimes too. That belongs to a different man now – like– like some actor or a facsimile, and I just look in on it as if from a distance. Enjoy the sight of someone else's suffering…” He shakes his head, “That doesn’t make sense.”

“No, no, I understand. Something to do in the way that a tragedy can be compelling to watch. You can let go, let go of your awareness of yourself and experience it in a way you’d never do so in the present moment.”

“A dissociation.”

“Yes. Why would you want to go and relive the basest parts of yourself all alone, over and over again? Not likely.”

“But it was me.”

“A dissociation,” you repeat, smile. 

“Yeah,” he pauses, turns the coffee cup round and round with the slow spin of his wrist as if to dissolve the remains of the grounds you know the shitty machine has left deposited at the bottom. There is a small dusting of golden brown hair covering his wrist and disappearing up his forearm beneath his flannel. You want to taste it, follow the trail to places unknown. “Not so well adjusted, us two,” And he laughs then. A real laugh. He lets you have a real laugh of his, and it is powerful – special. 

“Well… no.” Of course not. “I don’t think either of us could ever claim that.”

“Bet you’ve never been bad a single day in your life, have you?”

You cock your head, let your eyes slide from him to peer out the dark window. His lonely semi is parked under the single flare of light out there. The evening has sunk into a deep blue, the hue of mourning, of melancholy, and the pavement is wet with evening rainfall.

You'd heard that some trucks had spaces behind the seats where truckers could put a bed, have a place to rest. You wonder if he’ll take you back there and fuck you in his little bunk. And honesty is a fickle thing when discussing a topic like this, isn't it? There’s a depravity about him, and you can’t tell if the truth or the lie would placate him – incite him – more. To be similar in such a way as that which he’s imagining. A little bit of both, then. After all, intent holds weight – imagination, desire, it has a mass to it that can, if enough pressure is exerted upon it, be transformed into something else. 

“Not yet,” you tell him, sliding your gaze back to meet his, “Haven’t had a chance – but there’s still time.”

-

“What would you like to do?” He wants to take a bite out of that soft flesh you’re encased in, draw blood.

“Something depraved?” You’re taunting him – trying to provoke. It makes him slightly angry, but also hard. You should know what it is you’re toying with here. 

He frowns at you, at the lilting song of your words trying to beguile him into doing whatever it is you think you want him to do to you. “What is it that you think you want here? You don’t know what I was, how I lived. Shouldn’t be sat here with me, little girl,” he scoffs. “I was– was not– I don’t fucking know, not a man. I’m not, I’m not. Not a person anymore, just this thing that continues to exist. I should not have been expected to survive. This should mean something to you too. You also have no one. You’re alone too. You’re alone in the world. You know what it feels like to only live in the winter.”

You’re quiet for a long moment, and then you say: “I think I’ve come to quite like the winter.” And at that he knows he’s taking you for himself, whether you agree in the end or not. You’re going to be his. 

But he knows he must also let this roiling anger, this depraved hunger settle before he lays hands on you. Like this, in this state, he’d be too rough, break you, nothing compunctious about him or his jaggedness. He excuses himself for a smoke, your only response simply more of that inciting silence – more thoughts of cracked skulls and a cherry red cunt and tears after failed trysts with someone who doesn’t even know his name. He’s fucking embarrassing. What would Tommy say if he knew Joel couldn’t even get it up for a paid fuck anymore? He’d laugh in his face, never let him live it down. He misses his brother very much. He misses lots of things. 

He’s sucking on his Red under the awning of the diner’s entrance, imagining what it’ll be like to suck on your little clit, when he hears them. 

“She’s usually out about midnight. We’ll snag her then.” Grating, guttural voice.

“But I get to fuck ‘er first. This was my idea so I go first.”

“Yeah, whatever. S’only happenin’ ‘cause of me. Too fuckin’ stupid to see the plan through after all these months of watchin’ ‘er.”

“Fuck off.” Silence, and then almost with giddy elation: “We gonna kill her too?” Something cold and terrifying settles within Joel. 

A beat, “Should we?”

“Dunno, man. Might be fun, huh? Never done it before.”

“She’s fuckin’ pretty,” the voice draws the vowel out in a high pitched, sacharine whine. “Got the face of an angel.” Joel’s angel, his, his, only his.

He’s got his Bowie in a sheath on the back of his belt. Perhaps, this would be a useful exercise in release. After he’s dispelled his excess energy he can come back and touch you, take you. 

“Can’t wait to taste that cunt.” His cunt.

“Seen her tits, man? Fucking round and bouncy. Wanna make ‘em bleed.” And there’s only one avenue of consequence after that. After all, this is not the first time Joel’s done this. 

His most well kept secret.

Sometimes, when the itch cannot be eased, abated, by his hand or a fuck or a drink or any of the other readily available vices, he turns to this. Only when the straits were dire. Only when he saw no other recourse. Only after his daughter was dead and in the ground and his brother gone away from him

. 

But sometimes… sometimes it’s just fun. Sometimes it’s useful for a man to do that thing that he really feels he wants to do, if only to enjoy himself, if only to let go of some of that suffocating tension. If only to keep vermin like this away from an angel like you. 

“We’ll chill in the woods for a while, wait the little thing out, yeah?” Joel edges his way towards the edge of the building closer to them, peeks a lone eye around the corner. Two men, middle aged. Not a problem. Not for a man like him. 

He waits for them to make their way to the edge of the tree-line, watches them disappear into the gloom. He looks back into the diner through the murky windows. The warm glow of the overhead lamps washing you in a hue of golden light that brings out all the warm goodness in you he’ll take for himself once he’s snuffed out this issue. 

No one’s going to touch you but him. No one’s going to hurt you but him. 

As he rounds the corner of the diner there’s a piece of metal pipe propped up against the building by the dumpsters. Very nice. 

He goes after them. 

At the edge of the tree-line, under a swaying, low hanging branch, there is a tiny unfledged bird, helplessly twitching its way towards death in a puddle. He pauses to watch its struggle, gathers his skin about him, tightens his seams – prepares to gorge. He watches the inch by inch pilgrimage towards its last breath, then stillness. He feels so much older than his years, like he’s lived a thousand terrible years, watched a thousand terrible deaths. But there is a buoyancy about him, as well. Filled with a saccharine sweet fizz of sticky anticipation. He’s going to taste your cunt after this is done.

 He moves into the gloom. He’s going to kill them for you, and his cock is hard at the thought.

Stepping beneath the canopy of the trees, into that cold, damp darkness, he sees the absolute truth of the world. On the heels of two men who’d do you harm, he knows that he’d failed to save someone he cared about once, he’d not be bested by failure a second time. Darkness implacable, the crushing black vacuum of their overheard words buzzing in his head like flies, of the harm they’d do you. Two hunted animals moving away from a creature much darker than they could even imagine, scurrying on borrowed time. What most moves him is that the things they’d do to you are not so dissimilar to the things he plans to do to you, as well. The only difference being that after he’s done defiling you, he’ll keep you for himself, with all the care and gentleness a little thing like you so deserves. 

-

You press your ear to the cracked open door leading to the back of the building. It’s not the first time those two’ve talked their filth regarding you. The murdering is new, though. You’d not thought they were smart or inventive enough to come up with an actual kill plot. Rape enough of a hardball for minds as shallow and small as those two’ve got. 

You’d never really considered them much of a threat. Or maybe you’d just never really cared enough to pay them much attention. But as you watch the broad, rippling expanse of Joel’s muscled back stalk after them, his pause at the tree-line to look down at something on the ground, you think he must be more in the vein of taking a stupid man’s shit talk to heart than you’ve ever been. 

He has a thick, forearms-length of steel pipe gripped in his huge fist, and there’s a wicked looking knife strapped to his belt on the back of his hip. 

Interesting. 

You look back at the empty diner, the lonely parking lot beyond the glass of the windows, only Joel’s semi still taking up residence on the wet pavement. You turn back to follow after the three men. 

One you want, two you’re interested to see what fate awaits them.

For some reason, when you step outside, you’re expecting there to be snow on the ground, but there is none.  

You move across the pavement towards the forest-line, and the pilgrimage towards the verdant darkness feels very much like your one-way ticket out of this forlornness you’ve been trapped in your whole life. You’ve been stuck in this small town for so long, for too long. One man had already tried to forcibly evict you, had taken your entire family with him, maybe this one, maybe Joel, would do so in a way you’d more likely enjoy. 

There’s been a steady, faint drizzle all day long, and the puddles of rain look like holes in the dark pavement, apertures into some other realm that glide past underground. You wonder if you stepped through if you’d disappear below into some other place. You wonder if he’d be able to find you even in that unknown other. 

You cross the line into darkness. 

The familiar terror of silence – you don’t seem to find it here. There is only the sound of your rushing blood, the cadence of his voice rumbling through your psyche, firing your neurons up into a frenzy. There is a twisting heat low in your pelvis, dampness between your thighs. What’s he going to do? Why’s he going to do it?Is it for me? Is it for me? It’s for you.

You let out a low whistle between your teeth and move beyond the trees. There is a giddiness about the darkness of the wood – the motley of shadows, the aroma of mushroom rot. 

The familiar terror of silence. Perhaps, that is what they are experiencing now. The great horror of being set upon by a beast more terrifying than anything they could have ever conjured up on their own. 

That infinite tenderness from before, that acute madness – it coalesces in the gap in the trees as you come upon the three men. 

Joel has already started on the first. He murders almost tenderly. With great care, but infused with an aroma of agitated frenzy that seems flavored in the same notes of erotic buzzing that hums beneath your own skin. There is blood and viscera splattered on his face and clothes, in his hair. That great hunting knife embedded in the throat of the first man. The body lays facing you now, eyes open, shocked at his own death. Funny. Perhaps, that’s how they would have liked you to have ended up once they were through with you. 

Oh, how the tune changes when the monster is on your side. 

What are you? Be a creature. Be a creature. Be a creature!

You take Joel in. Thick, massive frame. You love his hair, it was one of the first things you’d noticed, thick dark curls streaked with the silver veins of his age and experience. Something that promised of care and knowledge and patience. His patchy beard with the heart shaped gap in it, you’re going to write your name into that space. His powerful arms, muscles coiled tight, his shirt stretched tight across his broad shoulders as he brings the steel pipe up above his head, pauses to look down at his next victim. 

“We won’t bother her anymore, never again – p– please, please, I swear,” the man on the ground begs and cries. There are tears and snot bubbling down his ruddy, pocketed face. 

Joel is silent and terrifying and glorious above him, and then a small nod: “That’s alright… I believe you.” The metal comes down in a whistling arc, makes contact. 

Flesh and blood splatter, the sound of it is pulpy and wet and vindicating. He starts with the man’s knees, then his head, caved in like the shell of an egg, the yolk spilling out like vermilion drool. 

He heaves silently above the man that would have done you harm. Makes the threat go away. 

You step forward, cunt pulsing and wet and eager for him. When he’s gotten his fill of bludgeoning he turns slowly back towards you, as if he’d known the entire time that you’d been stood there watching. 

And the look on his face, it makes something electrifying and sticky buzz up your spine and ooze down your veins. You shift back on your heels

He shakes his head, his eyes are huge, pupils blown wide. “Don’t run,” he says slowly. If you hadn’t just watched him murder two men in cold blood – no, in your defense, he saved you, he protected you, fizzy heart full of satisfaction – you’d say he almost looks a little doe eyed. 

A hollow pounding begins in his heart, as if it had remained silent for the past two years and was only now taking notice of its own silence. His cock, hard enough to burst, angry and throbbing beneath the confines of his blood soaked jeans. Fuck this scum laying on the ground beside him, look at what he has infront of him. Nothing else matters but you. A goddamned angel. Damned for he’s found you now and nothing good can come of this. He takes a step towards you, and you match him with one backwards, away from him, his blood starts to howl in his veins. Different to the humming frenzy that had filled him as he did his murdering. This is hot and viscous and ravenous, and he knows he’ll get to keep his catch once he’s gorged himself on it. He knows he’ll get to keep you once he’s caught you. 

You take two more nervous little, quick steps away from him. Your eyes are slightly manic, face flushed, frame jittery, excited. A rabbit that knows it’s about to be caught. He watches the pause of your limbs as they fill with coiled energy, getting ready to make the bound and leap towards escape. He lunges, goes in for the kill, teeth bared, talons  brandished. 

Faster than you can even comprehend, he lunges, takes you to the ground with one massive, powerful shoulder to the vulnerable, soft of your belly, one huge paw cradled at the back of your skull to protect you from the hard ground. Your spine hits the cold, wet earth, the breath knocked out of you. You think you let out an animal noise, high pitched and supplicant. A thing that knows it’s been caught and is soon to be devoured. Your limbs scramble against the dirt, heels digging into the ground for purchase, you feel the loss of one of your shoes, as you try to get away or to crawl closer, who can be sure. A spider caught in the web or a larger, hungrier arachnid. He sets the huge heaviness of his muscular weight over your much smaller frame, one strong hand caged around the column of your throat, the other pushing your chest into the earth as he shoves his hips into the cradle of your own, forcing your thighs apart and your skirt to pool at your waist. You feel the stretch of the center plaque of your tights as his wide breadth settles between your legs, making room to take you for himself. You bring your own hands up to the wrist holding your throat and dig your nails into the skin there. You can feel the light smattering of hair covering his forearm beneath your soft palms, the cold, wet dirt beneath you, the searing stretch of the inner muscles of your thighs spread wide for him, the damp of the air surrounding the two of you. He leans forwards, pressing you down into the ground, and you have the fleeting thought that you want to transfuse yourself into the earth, into him. 

He pauses then to look down at you, appreciating the gloriousness of his catch. “Caught ya.” And he’s filled with an exuberance, a sort of victory. Look at what he’s snared – all for himself. 

You try and struggle again, if only to see the flare of annoyance in his eyes. It makes your cunt tight and achy. Even more than it already is. There’s a part of you that thinks you want him slightly angry – rough or mean. That you might like it even more if it hurts. Be kind enough to be cruel about it, you want to beg him. He leans forward to press his nose to your cheek, drags the cold vermillioned flush of it along your jaw, down the line of your throat, bites harsh and painful at your collarbone then over the peak of your breast. 

“Are you a virgin?” He whispers into your skin. It sounds very much like a threat. 

“Yes.”

“Saved this cunt all for me.” And it is not a question. Yes, you moan anyways. Let him know. Let him know that this defiling is a gift you’re granting him. He sits up on his haunches between your thighs, his hands sliding down to press on your lower belly and digs his fingers into the center of your tights and pulls, ripping a hold in them for his pillaging. You try and press your knees shut at the feel of the frigid air on your sensitive inner thighs, dig your nails into the ground above your head to try and drag yourself away from him. 

He digs his own fingers harshly into your flesh, his nails biting painfully into the soft skin of your thighs and ass and brings you back towards him. There’ll be streaks of pain left in his wake after this. Bad little rabbit. He smacks the inside of your thigh, watches the smooth flesh ripple for him. You let out a warbled, angry screech, little nails still trying to claw yourself away from him. He laughs then, a little mean, condescending. “Fight harder, little baby. This is pretty pathetic.” He rips your thighs apart, keep your fuckin’ legs open for me, his hands slick with the blood of his victims slide up the back of your thighs, anchoring his palms beneath the damp creases of your knees to press you open and wide for him, slaps your cunt, hard, over the soaking gusset of your panties. 

“Who the fuck’re you wearin’ this tiny little thong for?” he growls. It’s white lace, with a sweet, little pink bow adorning the front. “Me? Wrapped yourself up all nice and pretty for me?” Your little foot sneaks up under his armpit and tries to push with, what he’s sure is all your valiant might, at his chest, trying to unseat him from his conquering position above you, but he takes your ankle in a vice like grip, bites harshly into the meat of your calf so that an animal squeal of pain is clawed out of your throat at the same time that he slots his fingers under the damp center of your panties. “Sing as loud as you want, sweetheart. No one’s gonna hear you out here.” He can feel the soaking wet seam of your cunt against the backs of his knuckles, and he rips them clean off you. The sound of the last remaining barrier of protection of your cunt against his ravaging being decimated has you going shock still – prey that knows it’s caught and has decided to give up. Good, this is how he wants you. Your big, wet eyes look up at him as he flings the lace towards the still steaming dead bodies. That’s all they’ll get of you. The rest is only his. Mine, mine, fucking mine. 

You let your arms go limp above your head, soft and pliant and ready for ravaging, melting into the earth.

He presses your knees back and up, letting the red blossom of your wet cunt bloom for him. It’s slick and swollen, and he knows when he shoves his cock inside it’ll be burning hot. “Look at this gorgeous virgin pussy, baby. All for me. Only for me…” he murmurs, hypnotized, mesmerized. He drags the back of his knuckles over your slit, uses his thumbs to spread your lips apart, admires the swollen nub of your clit. You’re just as hungry for him as he is for you. Messy, eager little whore. He moves to undo his belt and free his aching length. Huge and brutish, thick veins pulsing just beneath the thin skin. He’s going to split you in half, break you, mold you in his image. 

He spits right onto your soaked folds, watches the thick glob of saliva slide down to mingle with your own leaking slick. He’s not even going to make you come first. Little virgin cunt and he’s not going to even bother getting you ready – just gonna shove the whole, unforgiving length of himself inside of you. Force you to take it. He fists his thick fist around himself, jacks his cock once, twice, squeezing at the bulbous head so that a trickle of precum seeps out of the slit. He presses his head to your clit, slides down to give you a small threat of pressure at your opening. When he looks back up at your face your eyes flutter shut, a look of pure contented submission washing over the gorgeous planes of you. 

“Not gonna be gentle, baby. Don’t got it in me.” He notches the fat head at the slick mouth of your entrance and crams his cock inside of you in one go, meets that thin barrier that says you still belong to yourself and rips through it. Mine now. No reprieve, no respite. And God, the feel of it, cleaved in half, scorching hot, filled to the brim and never deep enough. He is a rabid, snarling beast of a man as he hits the very end of you, grinds his cockhead at the mouth of your womb. You let out a warbled, pained moan, little fingers coming up to claw at his throat and chest with kitten-strength, down to dig into his thick thighs as he pins you down, and you tilt your hips to let him in deeper or escape him, he doesn't know. He doesn't care. He pulls his hips back and forces himself back in, too thick cock wedged into the too tight space. “Christ, goddamn tight fuckin’ pussy – made for me,” he grits through bared teeth.

He fucks you raw and cruel, and he needs you to just lay limp and still and take it.

And you do. And he does not cry this time. 

He sets a brutal pace, throbs deep in your belly at every pause as he grinds at your cervix. It must be painful for you, perhaps, but the flush in your cheeks, the fever in your eyes, the ripple of your cunt around his driving length tells him you also like it. “What a good girl, taking my big cock,” he coos. You preen, tilt your hips this time in supplication he’s sure, hitch your feet higher along his sides. There are tears running back down your temples and into your hairline. His cock makes you cry. If he could, he’d split your throat and drink, he would. But he cannot, so he’ll split your cunt instead. He thrusts into the hilt, complete negligence for care, for gentleness lost in the dark wood, for the desperate necessity of feeling your virgins blood coating his cock. Your protestations lost to the louder song for more, for harder, for deeper

Joel, Joel, Joel. 

He’s going to listen to you sing his name for the rest of his life. 

He feels unhinged, a thread picked at too many times, spun loose, unraveled and frayed. That edge that separates good and evil – his bloody fingers clamp down hard on the edge of your jaw, forces you to open for him, and he spits into your mouth – direct, dirty … warm. “Lemme see…” he rumbles, and you stick your tongue out for his inspection. Once he nods, pleased and smug and conquering, you close and rub the slick of his saliva onto the roof of your mouth with your tongue, savor the taste of him. This was the taste that you’d longed for… that which teaches you what that professed edge really is. Is he good, is he evil – he’d just killed two men, you’d watched him, cunt wet at the sight of it. Albeit to protect you… sure – but does it even matter? You swallow his spit down. Probably not. 

He is huge and life altering inside of you. Your virginity scoured away on his invading length. 

He leans forward, hand clamped around your jaw to pierce you with his manic gaze, like his cock pierces your cunt. He smells like the forest and sweat and power. “Little fuckin’ tease,” he grits, “Bringing me cherry pie like that all the time – fuckin’ provoking me. You just wanted me to pop your cherry for you. Didn’t you, little girl?” All you can do is nod dumbly and take what he gives you. He hooks one of your knees over his elbow, the other propped over his shoulder, foot bobbing limply at each slam of his hips. He has you bent entirely in half, cunt splayed wide open for him to fuck down into the deep, devastating end of you. Your vision goes blurry, black stars streaking across the back of your eyelids. All you see is him. Perhaps he’s all that exists now. Maybe you’re just as dead as the two bodies laying beside the two of you. You wonder peripherally what the sight of the four of you must look like. Joel’s hulking form fucking you like an animal into the dirt. You open your eyes to look up at him, there’s blood splatter across his face, in his hair. His skin is burning hot against yours. You think that perhaps you’ll have scorch marks in the shape of his fingers in your skin after he’s done with you. Two dead, brutalized bodies cooling beside the place where the two of you are fucking. 

“Can feel ya tightening up, baby. Gonna come all over my cock.”

He does something to change the angle, and it fucking hurts. “Too much,” you beg, try to push him back weakly, but your cunt pulls sharp and tight, and then your muscles are rippling around him, womb contracting painfully as your orgasms blinds you with its sudden intensity. 

“Don’t care,” he growls back. “Do not fucking push me away.” No, he must not care. Prey doesn’t decide how it’s felled, after all. 

He pulls out and back then, suddenly, slaps your cunt harshly, once, twice. You mewl, high and shocked, writhing around in the dirt. He grabs you by the hips and flips you so fast you’re left disoriented, pulling your ass up, up, up. 

“Fuck, you’re so fuckin’ pretty,” he croons, bends to bite down on the meat of your asscheek, and then notches back at your gaping, fluttering hole, orgasm still running through you, and pushes back in. You’re soaking wet, slick and fucked open by him and the taking is much easier this time. You feel his thumb press down on your asshole, “Gonna take this too. Gonna have every part of you, every piece. Gonna swallow you whole.” All you do is arch your back further, cheek smushed into the dirt, fingers digging into the cool earth for purchase, for salvation.

The sight of you stretched around his thick base, so slick he feels you dripping down his balls and further below, into the bloody earth. There’s a red tinge of your own blood coating his skin, and he’s going to come. He’s going to fill you up with his spend and fuck it deep into you until it takes. Until no matter how far you want to run, he’ll be with you, always. He lets his head fall back on his neck and stares up at the dark canopy of the trees, groans low and deep.“You’re gonna be my little hole now,” he promises, presses one large palm into the small of your back to deepen the angle and fuck down into you. “Gonna take you with me and fill you up whenever I feel like it. My gorgeous little cumslut.” The ramming of his hips starts to grow sloppy and stuttered, close to the edge now. Victory is so, so near. 

You start to claw at the dirt and wiggle again. Little knees chafed raw and scrambling against the hard ground trying to get away. He slaps your ass hard, hopes there’ll be the print of his hand to appreciate later. 

“Not inside, not inside – not – no birth control,” you stutter, beg.

“I’m not fuckin’ pulling out.” He twists a cruel and unyielding hand into the back of your hair and presses your face harshly into the ground. Your eyes pinch and tears seep and mingle into the blood and dirt beneath you. “Gonna pump you raw and full. You don’t gotta worry about anythin’ anymore, baby. Gonna take care of you,” he grits and you press yourself harder back into him. There is an existential seesaw inside of you – a volleying of your wants – you want him to hurt you, to force you, to take care of you and keep you, all at the same time.

“Promise – promise me you won’t leave me,” you cry and beg because really, that’s all you want. All you’ve ever wanted. For someone to stay, for someone to never leave, no matter what.

“I promise – fuckin’ swear.” And you go loose and passive again at that – his to do with as he will. Nothing else really matters after all that.

He senses the change. The loosening of your muscles into capitulation. He stops his thrusting and grinds, strums at your clit. “Oh fuck, you want me to fill you up? And what happens if I do? What happens if it takes? Want me to get you fuckin’ pregnant?” Starts to fuck into you again, “I think you do.”

Don’t care, don’t care, don’t care.

“You’re mine. Fucking mine.” He says it again and again and again, yes, yes, yes, lets himself fall forward, anchored above you with one strong arm as he presses as deep as he can physically go and starts to fill your pulsing cunt with his come, the heat of his spend inciting you to roll into one more throbbing orgasm. He brings his face down close to yours, open your eyes, little thing, lemme see you. The fluttering of your lashes, sweaty, dirt-streaked face, and you are seraphic, the wet crimson heat of your blood pounding beneath the delicate membrane of your skin. Gorgeous, perfect, conquered and his. 

“Fucked full’a me now,” he whispers, presses a soft kiss to the tender skin of your eyelid. You nuzzle into him, and then look up at him with the warmest, most vibrant gaze he’s ever seen. Fucking pleased and sated. 

“They wanted me, but only you get to have me now,” you whisper. “How does that make you feel?” Provoking, provoking again. 

“Like I fucking own you.” He grinds his still spitting cock further, feels the pull of your muscles milk him deeper. 

He lets his weight fall partially over you, too heavy for the full mass of himself. You are, after all, a delicate thing, and he must remember to handle you with care, occasionally. He feels the pulsing and quivering of your cunt around his softening cock, and the two of you settle to lay there in the dirt, bodies still dead, virginity scoured and stolen, and stare at each other. 

“Have you ever been in love?” you whisper, dragging the tip of one little finger, whisper soft, over the arch of his brow, the slope of his nose.

“I feel a little in love with ya right now,” he confesses, and you press that finger against the seam of his mouth, begging for entrance, and then inside, against the flat of his tongue to inspect the wet gleam of it. It’ll be inside of you soon enough, you should take a look at that which you’ll be writhing against in due time. 

“Good. That was my plan all along.” Smug, conniving little creature. 

-

Once it’s full dark, he packs you into his truck, buckles your seatbelt for you, tucks a blanket around your dirty knees and drives off as if he hadn’t just murdered two men and taken your virginity with their blood still hot on his skin. He goes for miles and miles, eventually finds a dark, secluded spot to park the truck for the night. He takes you into the back bunk and fucks you like you’d wanted him to, on your side, one leg slung over his shoulder, hand gripping the lush of your ass to pull you onto his impaling cock, watches your ass bounce against his thrusts. A demanded play with it, lemme see ya push it back in, as he watches himself drip out of your messy hole. Eats your cunt until you cry. Afterwards, the two of you lay, naked and damp, facing each other, tracing the lines of one another in the quiet dark. 

Sometimes he’s worried he’s blood hungry – or pain hungry. Starving for something he doesn’t have a name for. But he thinks that, perhaps, he can use your name to fill in the blank space now. He’d always felt as if his devotion was a punishment to the receiver. After all, everyone Joel has ever loved has left him. But as he looks at you, there’s something in your eyes that tells him that perhaps, you’ll remain. Perhaps, he can compel you to, force you to. Perhaps, he can anchor you to himself, and in turn, give you everything. 

“Are you a ghost?” he asks.

“No. Are you?”

“Sometimes I think I am.”

“I don’t think so.”

“You’re like a fuckin’ angel or somethin’. What were you doin’ out here in this wasteland?” He asks you again.

“Maybe I was waiting for you.” This answer he likes.

He’s quiet for a long time after that – taking you in, cataloging you, memorizing you. His fingers ghosting over your face, your hair, strumming the fan of your lashes. Later he asks: How do you remember the memory of someone else? How do you keep them when they’ve gone somewhere entirely unreachable?

“Because you love them,” you tell him.

“That’s enough?”

“Of course. Will you ever forget that you loved her?”

“Never.”

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

[glitterquadricorn]

Look What You Made Me Do - MV1

+summary: The couple was once thought to be the modern-day Romeo and Juliet (minus the unaliving part). Where you saw her, Max was not too far behind and vice versa. And despite his father's insistence to stay from her, he simply couldn't. He was enthralled by her and her persistence on the track. Together, they rose through the ranks and found themselves to be teammates in Formula one. But their story turns sour when Max betrays her in the worst way possible. +pairing: Max Verstappen x F1!driver +warnings: cheating, mentions the p*quets, curse words, hate comments, poorly edited. If i missed something, let me know.

face claim: Florence Pugh

I do not give my permission to have my work reposted. I do not give my permission to have my work translated. If I'm notified that you've stolen my work or claim it as your own, you'll be asked to take it down before I'll report you. End of discussion.

Her phone constantly vibrated against the glass coffee table of Max and Her's home. People were mentioning her in a tweet made from one of those wag accounts saying that Max was spotted with another woman that wasn't her and that he could be cheating. 'Max wouldn't cheat on me, right?' she thought to herself. Although, she remembered he had been acting rather weird lately. But him acting weird could mean anything.

The sound of the front door opening and closing and keys hitting the ceramic bowl alerted her that Max was home. Her eyes went straight to the bright orange bag in his hand. The same bright orange bag from the picture in the tweet.

"What's going on in that head of yours, Schatz?" Max hugged her, kissing the top of her head. He smelled like her.

"Thinking about what to make for dinner. Anything in particular?"

"I was thinking we could get takeout."

"Sounds good." She watched as Max turned towards their bedroom and tucked neatly into the collar of his shirt, which was a redbull shirt no shock there, was a semi dark hickey. A hickey she knew she didn't put there. Maybe that one tweet was right.

Dinner that night was a silent affair. The question of rather or not he was actually cheating weighed heavily on her mind. One half of her was being completely ignorant and believing Max would never do such a thing. The other half, the rational half, are putting the pieces together and ringing the alarm bells and are practically shouting from the rooftops that he is most definitely cheating. It was getting to be too much for her.

"Are you cheating on me?"

Max began choking on the water in his mouth. "What? Are you crazy? Where are you even getting this from?"

"It's just- I kept getting tagged in that one tweet-"

"And you believe it? You know those kinds of accounts make stuff up."

"Never said I did, Max," she said. "But explain the orange shopping bag, or how you got that hickey on your neck, or how you smell like none of the perfumes I have."

"I don't have to deal with this." Max stood up from the table and y/n followed after him.

"So, they're true?"

"Y/n, I don't want to talk about this right now."

"Well, that's just too damn bad. We're talking about this now because If we don't it won't get talked about at all."

Max faced her, his body shaking with anger. "Fine! Yes, I did cheat on you. Is that what you wanted to hear? How you weren't good enough and will never be good enough for me? How you'll never be good enough for anyone? How sometimes I can't fucking stand you to be around you? You. are. insufferable."

Her eyes started to fill with tears. In all the years she's known Max, he's never not once gotten this mad nor has he ever been this hateful. As if he realized what he's said, he began to apologize profusely.

"I'm so, so sorry, Schatz." Max tried to come closer to comfort her, but she stepped away.

"Thanks for letting me know how you really feel about me, Max. I'll uh get out of your hair."

"Y/n, please-"

"No amount of apologizing will ever make me forget what you said. You were the love of my life, the man that I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with and have kids with."

"But we can still have that!"

"It's rather funny you're trying to save a relationship you destroyed," she chuckled loudly at Max's audacity. "Tell me, how long have you been cheating? And be honest, I deserve that much."

With his head hung low in shame, he mumbled, "Nearly a year."

"Unbelievable."

Before heading off to their bedroom to pack some clothes, she looked at the man she once loved. "You know, I've dealt with a lot in my life. I've traveled the world seeing it in a whole new light while doing what I loved, been in a crash or two that was painful, seen and experienced things I didn't think I'd be able to experience, but this... this hurts the most."

Once she left the house, she got in her car and tapped on her lawyer's number, texting him.

I don't care how you do it, but just get me out my redbull contract. DON'T TELL ANYONE ABOUT THIS.

yourinstagram(left) and maxverstappen1(right) . 2hrs ago

yourinstagram

liked by taylorswift, lilymhe, pierregasly and 932,312 others.

yourinstagram: Mama Tay once said don't get sad, get even 💅🏻💋#newsponsor #newthingsarecoming

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taylorswift I taught you well young grasshopper. liked by yourinstagram

lilymhe where are you going dressed like that? cause damn. ⤷ yourinstagram sponsorship meeting with a new sponsor.

user1 you want to explain that second picture?

user2 looking respectfully.

user3 new things coming? what's that supposed to mean? ⤷ user4 she did say she got a new sponsor and I assume it's with Chanel. ⤷ user5 I can't help but think the whole new things coming means something else.

pierregasly 👀👀 ⤷ yourinstagram just taking lessons from you.

francisca.cgomes are you single? ⤷ yourinstagram why yes, I am. you asking me out on a date? ⤷ francisca.cgomes of course! ⤷ pierregasly I'm right here you know. ⤷ yourinstagram I'll make sure to have her home before midnight 😉

user6 not y/n flirting with pierre's girlfriend 🤣

For half an hour, she sat on the couch listening to Lando, Logan, Charles and Pierre answer questions about their summer break, their hopes for the second half of the season and what they want for their teams/cars. Not one question came her way, and she was happy about that. She hated doing media with a passion. She could understand they had bills to pay, families to support, but if she could get away with not doing any kind of media without being fined for it, she'd happily do it.

Just when she thought she'd have an easy day, a reporter she was familiar with, one she has had problems with since her debut in 2021, raised her hand.

"Mackenzie Smith, Espn. I have a question for you, y/n," she smiled. "Over the summer break there was a rumor going around saying you were leaving redbull at the end of the season. Is that true? Can you maybe give some insight on that?"

It's an innocent question to ask, but knowing Mackenzie, she'll somehow go off topic and ask questions she has no business asking about.

"Accounts like that always make up some of the most ridiculous things for clicks. Unfortunately, people believe it and until me, or my agent confirms it, then it's just that. A rumor."

Mackenzie huffed, clearly not satisfied with that answer. But if there's something about Mackenzie everyone should know, is she has a habit of asking rather intrusive questions she has no business asking. "Your relationship with fellow driver, Max Verstappen, ended over the summer break as well."

"My relationship, or lack thereof, is not yours or anyone's business. End of discussion."

"But he-"

"Yeah, and I said end of discussion. What part of that did you not understand?" she paused. "Now, does anyone have any other questions? No? Okay."

She sat the microphone down beside her and walked out the room. Was she going to get lectured by her PR manager? Yeah. Was she going to be fined for walking out? Probably. But she didn't care and if there was one thing she knew she didn't have to sit there and be questioned about her personal life.

porscheformula1team

liked by yourinstagram, mickschumacher, and 1,253,549 others.

porscheformula1team: Come meet our drivers! Mick, who is returning to the f1 grid after missing out on the 2023 season and Y/n, who finished 2nd in the drivers' standings. The future for Porsche looks bright!

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yourinstagram Thank you for this amazing opportunity, Porsche. ⤷porscheformula1team: No, thank you for taking the risk and signing with us.

mickschumacher It's good to be back in formula one.

user7 while I am excited for Mick to be back, I just think y/n is a backstabber for leaving a team that pretty built her entire career. ⤷user6 did you honestly think y/n would stick around after Max cheated on her?

user8 this is the best thing to wake up to!

user9 redbull was holding y/n back, so it's a good thing she left.

user10 future wdc winners? liked by mickschumacher, yourinstagram,porscheformula1team

user11 best driver's pairing in f1 liked by porscheformula1team

user12 signing these two was the biggest mistake Porsche ever made. ⤷porscheformula1team we beg to differ. ⤷user13 Porsche defending mick and y/n 🥰🤗

Max Why didn't you tell me you were leaving? When did you even sign with porsche?

Y/N Didn't know I was obligated to tell you I was leaving. I signed back in August after I got that Chanel sponsor.

Max YOU SIGNED BACK IN AUGUST?! WTF

Y/N I move fast just like you.

Max What's that supposed to mean?

Y/N It means you're okay with getting into a relationship with Kelly 2 weeks after we broke up.

Max You're being childish, y/n.

Y/N Did you really think I'd stay after you cheated? In 2024, you better get used to being behind me because that WDC is mine.

Don't let this flop. I worked real hard on it.

ALL PICTURES ARE FROM PINTEREST AND CREDIT TO THE OWNERS.

Tagging:

@letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @patzammit @tinycyberhacker @keenmarvellover @mrspeacem1nusone @lendeluxe @alexxavicry @allenajade-ite @catswag22 @eugene-emt-roe @wcnorris @bibissparkles @cherry-piee

[vroomvroomcircuit]

Wildest Dream

(A/N): This is the crackies of crack fics. Enjoy.

Summary: Oscar's girlfriend draws the line when it comes to his bunny teeth. Even in her dreams.

Warnings: None. Just pure crack.

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x fem!reader

Wordcount: 1.4k

🏎Masterlist🏎 ______________________________

(Y/N) admits that her dreams are wild. Not weird. Wild is the only word that really fits. For her it has been like that since her early childhood days. It seems like every tiny impression she collects during the day gets sorted and thought about during her sleeping time.

Sometimes upon waking up, she immediately tells Oscar what happened in her vivid dreams, always giving him a good laugh and earning herself another warm hug in bed. It’s a good trade off in their opinion.

Although, other times (Y/N) is not able to differentiate between dreams and the reality, too caught up in the emotions that have been brought up to actually wake up and take her surroundings in. Which is a thing that Oscar has yet to see actually happen.

Another night of falling asleep cuddling her Australian koala close to her after he finally came home from the latest race weekend and him yapping about how one of his engineers got a teeth transplant and couldn’t be present this time around. During his in depth description of the procedure, (Y/N) only thought about how adorable Oscar’s front bunny teeth are. His soothing voice brings her into a land of dreams, even if he is talking about cutting out teeth.

Instead of listening to Oscar, she finds herself in a hospital bed, surrounded by white walls. The cream colored sheets are scratchy against her skin, making her want to claw them away the moment she realizes this sensation. But another man’s voice momentarily distracts her.

“The procedure was a success in all departments. We couldn’t be happier with the results,” A man in a white coat and glasses congratulates (Y/N), his eyes glued to a clipboard before smiling at her enthusiastically. But the young woman is even more confused now. “What procedure?” This question brings out a frown out of the middle aged man. He takes a small light out of his pocket and shines it into her eyes, blinding (Y/N) for a second. “It looks like the anesthesia hasn’t worn off completely yet. Miss, you got a new set of front teeth transplants. You knocked them out during a racing incident, don’t you remember?”

The young woman tries really hard to remember, but nothing the doctor says seems to ring a bell or shake a tambourine. It starts to concern herself, but she trusts the medical professional more than her own anxious feelings. After all, it does make sense that she somehow knocked her own teeth out by getting into an accident. She probably doesn’t remember it because of the traumatic experience. Good to know she has her teeth repaired, something she does not have to worry about anymore.

“Oscar. I want to see Oscar. Can you please bring me to my Oscar? He is easy to spot. A lanky, really awkward guy with brown hair. Cute eyes, don’t ask me the eye color. Whenever I try to actually look into them to find it out, I get lost. But it’s not a bad thing, his eyes are my favorite labyrinth. Oh, OH! Don’t forget about his adorable smile. It’s my favorite thing about Oscar, because it shows his cute bunny teeth. Ugh, I love them so so much. Have you seen that guy?” Shamelessly gushing about her boyfriend is something (Y/N) would have still done without being under the influence of anesthesia, but it still makes her tongue lighter.

The doctor nods a bit awkwardly. “He is in the waiting room. The poor boy wasn’t able to settle down at all during the operation. I’m going to get you some water and let him know you are expecting him.”

Now (Y/N) is kind of panicking. She wants nothing more than to see her boyfriend. But she apparently just came out of a procedure. Is she looking presentable? Will he be disgusted by her current appearance? Is there any blood left?

Maybe being worried about this is dumb, but this whole situation is so bizarre to (Y/N), she does not want any more problems, especially none regarding the love of her life.

There is a short knock on the door, to which the young woman quickly calls for the person to enter the room. Her breathtakingly cute Oscar pops in. “Osc! Look! I got a new tooth implant!”

Her excitement makes him smile his polite cat smile. He steps closer to the bed and strokes her cheek. “I knof. Who do you fink gave you hif teef?” Suddenly (Y/N) sees his front teeth missing. The cute bunny teeth that made her lighten up in any situation.

She can’t comprehend it. How can Oscar even dare to get rid of them. She surely could have gotten some new teeth elsewhere. But his audacity to just take his own out? Unbelievable. A big burst of anger makes its way into her chest.

(Y/N) sits up in her bed. The hospital room is gone, she is back in her shared bedroom with Oscar moving up next to her. He must have taken her home after she fell asleep because of the anesthesia again.

“Oh, good morning, Darling”, he greets her in his raspy morning voice. But she just ignores him and gets up swiftly to get dressed for the day. (Y/N) is still mad in a way she can’t put into words.

Which leaves the Australian in a confused state. What did he do to her? Did he kick her in his sleep again? Steal the blanket?

He tries to approach her again in the kitchen, seeing her prepare breakfast. He hugs her from behind, trying to swing them both from side to side. But (Y/N) is having none of it. She shakes him off and takes a step aside, earning a puzzled glance from him. “Hey, Baby. Why are you mad at me?”

She continues to ignore him, taking her plate and already prepared drink out onto the balcony. Oscar looks at the counter, missing his own plate. Usually, when he is home from racing, (Y/N) makes breakfast for the two of them. Apparently not today.

Sighing, he makes himself a plate of food and cleans up the kitchen before following his girlfriend. The young woman is already scrolling on her phone while slowly eating without waiting for him.

“(Y/N), please talk to me. What did I do wrong to make you this angry? How can I make it better?” Oscar is borderline pleading with her, just wanting to know what happened. He already misses his affectionate girlfriend.

“Take your teeth back and I will stop being mad at you. How can you even get to the dumb idea, giving me your teeth for a transplant.”

Her outburst takes him aback for a quick second. “Which teeth? I got all of mine and you got all of yours.” This makes (Y/N) halt in her own track. She looks at his mouth, which he opens up just for her to check his claim. Then she checks her own mouth.

“But, but you gave me your cute bunny teeth for a transplant, because I lost mine in a car accident or crash or so. How-” Her question is cut off by Oscar’s hearty laugh. This gets an immediate pout from her, which makes him want nothing more than to just kiss it away immediately.

“Darling, you dreamt that. You didn’t get a transplant and I didn’t give you anything. Even though I’m willing to give you all of me John Legend style, I know you wouldn’t appreciate me getting them taken out for you.” He pulls her into a tight embrace, which she finally succumbs to and even returns, straddling his hips to get even closer to him, becoming the koala in the relationship for once.

(Y/N) hides her face in his chest. “Oh no. I am so so sorry. It just somehow made sense to me. How can I make it up to you?” She whines, looking up with doe eyes at him.

Oscar is capable of many things. But being mad at his girlfriend is not one of them. “Mhhh, how about a kiss?” Quickly (Y/N) follows his request, pressing her lips to his, a mile erupting on Oscar’s face at her eagerness. They get lost in the moment, pressing gentle kisses to each other’s lips.

“Did you just lick over my teeth?” “I needed to make sure!”

[taesanluv3r]

a royal wedding.

prince! kim leehan x princess! reader

pure fluff. your heart will melt into mush!! i want prince leehan so bad ugh TT lowercase intended, excuse any spelling mistakes / grammatical errors. enjoy :3

wc: 4,674

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

"angel, would you like a refill too?"

princess yn's little hands wrap around either side of her ceramic teapot, pouring imaginary liquid into her white cat's cup. she giggles, conversing with her pet and her toys as she leans her back against the large tree that stood in the middle of her family's large palace garden. the little princess smiles joyfully as she fixes the miniature tiara on her teddy's head, her own one tilting slightly as she moved around. a sudden rustle of leaves from behind her shakes her out of her make-believe tea party, she sighs softly when she hears a pair of feet getting closer to her. they stop for a moment, a shadow appearing over the green grass as the figure hid behind the tree.

"ha~yA! en garde!" the voice of the boy that jumped out in front of her was squeaky and loud, the voice that belonged to none other than the child of the neighbouring kingdom, prince leehan. he stood before her, his fencing uniform on and a small sword made of wood, that pointed straight at the stuffed toy, in his hand. "is this little teddy bear bothering you, yn? if it is, i shall battle him to the death!" the young princess rolls her eyes at her friend's words, not giving him, or his loud actions, much of a reaction as it happened almost every single time. "first of all, teddy is a she. and she's a teddy bear! she's not gonna hurt me, leehan" the prince sighs in defeat, slumping himself down right beside her against the tree. she hands him a cup, filling it up with the imaginary beverage and he thanks her, playing along. "but how am i supposed to protect my princess if no one is harming her?" the boy displays a big pout on his lips, taking a sip of nothing out of the ceramic cup. she giggles, "you're so silly, leehan" yn strokes a hand through her cat's head as it crawls onto her lap. "you promise i can save you from all the bad guys when we grow up, right yn?" leehan's eyes are big and shining, looking straight into her own sparkly ones. "of course! after we get married!" the boy nods quickly at her response, "we are gonna have the best wedding! we can even have an aquarium in our wedding!" the girl laughs at his weird obsession with fishes, "and we can have a chocolate fountain!" he nods again, "and lot's of presents" the prince's eyes are gleaming as he looks into the future, his thoughts shaken when her little hand pushes against his shoulder. "a wedding isn't like a birthday, silly" he frowns, "i know one thing we have to have at our wedding though..." she nods, as if she knew exactly what the boy was thinking. the two little royals turned to each other at the same time, speaking in unison.

"a hundred tier chocolate cake"

the young boy and girl shared a laugh, quieting down for minute to listen to the rustling of falling leaves and the purring of the feline in her lap. "but i really really want something at our wedding" and he turns to face her again, head tilted off to the side to let her know he was listening. "i want to have a billion blue butterflies to fly around when we kiss" the princess says, eyes wandering up to the sky as she smiles at the thought of her dream wedding. the prince blushes slightly, "i like the butterfly thing...but do we really have to kiss?" yn rolls her eyes, slapping his arm, "of course! that's what all adults do!" leehan nods in agreement, "i can't wait to be married" she mimics his head movements,

"me too"

just then, the sound of a bell removes the two children out of their daydreams, the voice of the princess' helper entering into their little ears. "princess yn! prince leehan! oh, there you are..." the young woman's name is mildred, she's been helping with the princess since she was a wee little baby. "mildred!" yn cheered, getting up to give her a hug. the woman gladly returned it, fixing the back of the girl's frock that began to wrinkle up in the process. "are you here to join our afternoon tea?" the princess asked, smiling up at her helper who just shakes her head softly. "no, no. while i'd love to, prince leehan's parents are searching for him. you've got to go home now" she directs the last part of her sentence towards the young boy who was beginning to get up off of the grass. "but why? can't he play a little longer?" the two children shared the same frown, "no, princess. he's got to get home! c'mon, grab your teddies, i'll take angel" the girl obliges, turning to collect all her toys as the woman picked her white cat up from the ground. the boy waited for his princess, politely reaching a hand out for her to take so they could walk together, back into her family's palace.

"oh, there you two are!" edmund, the young man that served the little prince exclaims as the two children came into view. "edmund! my humble servant!" leehan cheered, puffing his chest out to imitate the way heroic king's stood. the man chuckled, grabbing onto the boy's playing sword and greeting the princess as well. "let's go, your majesty and your highness are waiting for you" he says, signalling for them to follow him into the main throne room.

"papa!" yn smiled, running over to the king and the queen. "hey, darling. how was your tea party, hm?" the older man asks, standing tall with a pretty gold crown sat atop his head. "it was fun...but why does leehan have to go home so soon?" she whines, turning to face the rulers of the neighbouring kingdom he had come from. "i'm sorry, princess. leehan has some prince-ly duties to fulfill...he'll come again soon, okay?" the boy's mom spoke sweetly, tapping a cold finger against the little girl's cheek. "okay" she sighed, a frown grazing against her lips. "bye, my princess! i've got hero duties to do!" leehan announces, grabbing onto the girl's hand and pressing a kiss against it. yn rolls her eyes once again, giggling at the feeling.

"bye, my silly prince"

the two royal families finally part ways, the king and queen waving off the other pair as they waltzed away into their limousine and off to their own side of the evenly distributed lands. the queen smiles as she picks her daughter up from where she stood on the palace grounds and into her arms. "mama, you know what?" the young princess asks, grabbing the attention of her father as well. "what is it, darling?" her mother asks, looking at her intently. "leehan and i are gonna get married! and he'll protect me from all the evil bad guys with his diamond sword!" her parents laugh, "is that so?" the king continues their chat, entering the dining room as they did so. "mhm! and! and we'll have a hundred tier chocolate cake!" the princess' parents giggle.

"i can't wait! it'll be the perfect-est wedding ever!"

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"ugh why'd i sign myself up for this?" princess yn groans, head banging against the long wooden table that sat in one of the many rooms in her palace, the sound and impact causing the old white cat that laid down across from her to jump right off. prince leehan chuckles, moving to hover over her from behind, looking down at the pieces of paper scattered in front of her. "that doesn't look bad at all, love" he says, hands rubbing circles softly against her shoulders. "and besides...you were the one who insisted on hand-written letters for the guests!" his comment makes her roll her eyes, "ugh, i give up! let's just...hire someone to do this along with the other wedding favors" the guy laughs, tightening the grip he had on her shoulders. "i already did that, love. i was just waiting till you gave up, to let you know" her mouth drops opened, turning her head around to face him with narrowed eyes. "you..." yn starts, her eyebrows that were knitted together beginning to soften when she's met with his handsome face. "you know me too well" she sighs, watching as her fiancee smiles, his eyes turning into moon-shaped lines as he did so. a chilling sensation takes over her body when he presses his pink lips against her own ones.

"oh! i'm so sorry to have to ruin this moment, your highness" an old woman interrupts them, entering the room. "no problem, mildred. what's up?" the soon-to-be bride asks, smiling at her helper who's been by her side since she were little. "your gown has arrived for a fitting!" the woman's words make her eyes go wide and she turns to her prince with a joyous look, hastily getting up with excitement. prince leehan waits patiently behind the door, bending down to pet angel on her forehead, only entering the dressing room when he hears a gasp and a squeal of joy. he leans against the door, watching closely as his princess turns around to face him. the boy's mouth hung wide opened, his eyes beginning to gloss up at the sight before him. "wow..." he says, slightly out of breath. he steps towards her, taking her hands in his own. "so beautiful...my princess" she laughs, blushing a little. "thank you...but you know, i'll be your queen soon" he smiles that same smile that makes his eyes disappear into crescent shapes, taking another step closer to kiss her on the lips again.

"oh...i'm about to cry!" mildred's voice rang through the air as she began to tear up. "no, don't! i'll cry as well if you do!" the princess whined, a pout taking over her previous smile. "i swear just a moment ago you two were having an imaginary tea party under the tree...and now...you're getting married!" the royal couple laughs at the old woman's recollection of their childhood, shooting each other happy smiles as the princess wraps her helper into a warm hug.

just then, the familiar face of leehan's own helper enters the room. "your majesty, your presence is requested at the garden...it's for the butterfl-" edmund gets cut off by the prince's loud cough and wide eyes, "yes! i got it, thank you edmund. i'll be there in a second" and he turns over to his fiancee, who wore a curious look on her complexion. "i gotta go check this...this um...thing out. i'll see you tonight, yeah?" he says, holding her hands and looking straight into her eyes. "mhm, and we'll be married tomorrow!" her excitement makes him giggle, "that, we will be. i love you, your highness" leehan says finally, ending his sentence off with a dramatic bow to which yn rolls her eyes, "i love you too, your majesty" he kisses her hand, nodding towards her helper and dressers in the room before they parted ways.

"so...what do we think, your majesty?" prince leehan smiles widely, "it's perfect...i can't wait for her to see this tomorrow!" the boy nods, shaking the hands of the wedding organizer as he thanks him profusely. edmund pats the royal's back softly, "your big day...it's finally coming true, hm?" the butler asks as he and the soon-to-be groom stared off at the garden that was being fixed and decorated for their reception that awaited them in the morning. the boy nods, "i can't believe it..." he says, his voice softening towards the end. "i hope she likes the surprise..." now the prince's voice come out shaky, his nerves suddenly taking over his body. edmund just chuckles, a firm grip placed against his majesty's shoulder. "you're making her biggest dreams come true..."

"i'm sure she'll just love it..."

that night, after sharing a meal with their parents who were ready to give them the responsibility of the throne, the royal couple take a walk alone through one of the many pathways within the castle grounds, taking a moment to be with just each other before their big day.

"i can't wait for tomorrow..." yn says, hands intertwined with leehan's as she looked up at the starry night sky. his eyes are fixed on her, a smile against his lips at the simple sight of the love of his life. "me neither" he says, his voice a bit more quiet than usual, so as to not wake the sleeping horses in the stable they had walked by. "that thing edmund asked you to check in the garden, what was it?" the princess wonders, looking to face him now. the prince stutters softly, not expecting her to bring it up. "um...it's nothing...ugh" he sighs, stopping his feet and grabbing onto her other hand, staring right into her eyes. "what if i say i managed to make your childhood dreams come true?" she furrows her eyebrows, "darling, i've had a thousand different childhood dreams, which one are we talking about?" he chuckles, continuing to walk again. "it's a surprise...but it's something you once told me under the garden tree" the girl's eyebrows remained tied together, racking her brain as she tried to remember every single thing her younger self had told him before.

leehan laughs, moving the hand that was intertwined with hers to wrap his arm around her shoulders and pulling her into his grasp. "don't think about it too much, love" he says, pressing a kiss against her hair that smelled of daisies. "you'll see it in just a few hours, anyways" yn pouts, leaning deeper into his embrace. "i don't know if i can wait that long...especially since we aren't allowed to see each other until the reception tomorrow" the boy nods, "i wish they'd let us sleep together, i don't know if i can even sleep tonight" she continues, and he just listens, the same way he always did when they were kids- when she'd talk her own ear off, allowing his to take in all her words.

they made it back into the palace, sharing one last kiss before they were to separate, forbidden from being with each other until the event that awaits them tomorrow. the biggest event to take place in the kingdom for that month. an event that only happens every few years or so...

the royal wedding.

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"mildred, i might cry! i've never been this nervous in my life! what if i slip on the floor? what if i accidentally say the wrong words? what if-" the bride is stopped by her helper's hands against the exposed skin of her shoulders. "your highness, yn, it's all gonna be just fine. don't worry too much!" the old woman reassures, earning a worried nod in return from the princess. "excuse me, mildred. do you mind leaving us for a moment?" the sound of the queen's voice spoke from the near the door, the king standing tall beside her. "yes, of course! your highness, your majesty" she nods, bowing down as she leaves the room.

"hi, darling..." the king speaks, making his way over to sit beside his daughter who had slumped herself down on the soft velvet sofa, her mother on the other side of her, and the old white cat purring silently on the floor below them. "how are you feeling, my princess?" the man asks, a hand gently pressed against her shoulder. yn sighs, "i'm most excited for this wedding. it's like my biggest dream coming true..." she trails off, eyes wandering over to the mirror that stood close to where they sat. "but?" the queen asks, stroking a hand through her daughter's hair that got caught against the zipper of her corseted gown. "nothing. i just can't help but be a little nervous, that's all" the royal parents smile softly at their one and only child, her mother shifts slightly before getting up, pulling the bride up with her.

"come to the mirror, i have something for you"

the princess meets with her reflection, smiling adoringly at the most beautiful gown they had gotten custom made to suit her taste. like most wedding dresses, it was white. her shoulders and neck bare as the tulle material of the sleeves fell lightly against her forearms. the corset around her waist tightened to just the right amount so she could still talk without getting out of breath. the skirt of her gown sat atop her petticoat, an abundant amount of fabric layered on top of one another to create a slight train at the very end. her hands had been adorned in a pair of lace gloves, matching the lace hanging off the ends of her bustier. a satin sash in her kingdom's colours wrap around her body and her arms move up to straighten the tiara on her head and she makes eye contact with her mother through the mirror, breathing heavily as she awaits the gift.

the king had gotten off his seat as well, standing right beside his two beloved girls as he watched his wife pull out a shining silver necklace out from the velvet pouch it was previously kept in. "this was my grandmother's...and then my mother's and then mine...and now..." her mother trails off, yn's eyes gleaming at the piece of jewellery that touched against her neck. a cold chain, and in the center an entanglement of metal that encased a single pink gemstone, forming the shape of a heart. "now it's yours" the queen smiles, almost bursting into tears at the sight of her beautiful princess about to be married. "mama..." the bride coos, twirling around to embrace her mother into the warmest of hugs, an arm waving off to the side to invite her father into the moment as well, a loud meow in protest from her pet who seemed to have wanted to be included as well.

"oh...our princess" the king says in between sniffles, "you're going to be an amazing ruler, i just know it" he finishes, earning nods from the now tearful bride. the queen sighs when her eyes make contact with the clock, "we better get to our seats...we'll see you out there, love" she says, giving her daughter one last hug. "c'mon angel, your mother is about to be wedded!" the man says, picking up the feline from the ground. yn smiles, "i love you guys" they shoot her a pair of sweet eyes,

"we love you more, our princess- no, our queen...

good luck out there, we'll be waiting for you"

no longer than thirty minutes more went by, the sound of triumphant cheers coming in from outside the palace walls ringing in the wedding attendees' ears. the guests all rise as per requested by the host, the sound of royal trumpets blasting from each side of the large garden as the groom entered the reception. prince leehan wore a proud smile on his face, bowing and waving as he walked down the carpeted aisle. his tailored suit fit perfectly onto his body, a small handkerchief the same colours as his kingdom's flag peaking out of the tiny pocket near his chest as well as a sash in the same shades crossed over his body from one of his shoulders. the groom's hair was slicked in pomade, neatly tucked behind his ears, his handsome face crystal clear for everyone to see. leehan shakes the hands of his own parents as well as his bride's, standing up straight beside the wedding bearer at the elevated end of the aisle. he sighs nervously, staring at the floor for a second as he awaits his soon-to-be wife.

the loud trumpets were long gone and replaced with the sound of soft piano. he's familiar with the tune for it's a part of the soundtrack of one of her favourite films. the piano duet that victor and emily shared in the corpse bride. he chuckles lightly to himself when he remembers their conversation a while back. as they were watching the movie in his room at his own palace, a smile on the girl's face as she told him how badly she needed the song to play at her dream wedding as she walked down the aisle. the way that it did here now. the sound of the garden's large gates opening caused the boy to look up, a look of awe washing over his face as the beautiful girl he gets to marry today is finally revealed.

princess yn trots slowly behind her two little cousins who scattered a variety of flowers onto the pathway in which she walked. she waves at the guests who's eyes were all locked onto her, a smile growing against her pretty lips as she finally makes it over to him. "wow..." the groom whispers, mouth agape as he stares into his bride's bright eyes, his own ones almost bursting into a billion tears. the girl giggles slightly, a blush beginning to grow against her cheeks. the couple is about to share another laugh at how the garden filled with a sudden silence, the reality of their wedding hitting them hard on their heads like the pitter-pattering of rain against windows, but the sound of the wedding bearer clearing his throat and beginning to speak interrupts their otherwise blissful moment.

"beloved guests! today we celebrate a special day of togetherness. the day we join two kingdoms' hands, and form one! the wedding and coronation of our future rulers..." the man's voice is loud and clear, as if he were speaking into an invisible mic. the pair about to be wedded can't help but stare at each other, their ears threatening to blur out the sounds of their surroundings. "prince leehan and princess yn, please proceed with your vows"

the groom steps forward to pick up both of the princess' hands, staring deeply into her eyes once more before he began to speak. "yn ln...i've known you since that day we met at a royal ball when we were just three years old. for years after that i'd cherish every moment we spent, circling my palace or having tea with your teddy bears under the tree..." the girl can feel the tears trying to escape as she listened intently to his every word. "when we were five i swore to protect you from all the evil that came in your way, sticking up my wooden sword up in the air when we agreed to get married. and here i am now...taking your hands in my own, and asking you to be my wife" he ends his sentence softly, turning for a moment to retrieve the ring from it's cushion that the bearer held. leehan smiles at her once again, trying his best not to cry as he slipped the ring onto her finger.

it was the bride's turn to speak now, though after all of the things he had just said it seemed her vows flew right out of her head. "you know...i grew up having about a dozen new dreams for every second that i stood awake. but within those ever-changing wishes lied one that remained the same, until now." her voice began to shake, she blinks rapidly to prevent any form of liquid to seep out of her eyes. "i've always dreamed of our wedding, the day you would be mine forever. and even though it always felt like it was set in stone, i still can't believe i'm standing here before you. just mere seconds before becoming your wife, for real!" a laugh escapes the groom's lips at the tone of which she spoke, his eyes opening up again as she turns to pick up the second ring that sat on the same cushion. "i love you, kim leehan. thank you for making my dreams come true" her vows come to an end as she, too, slips the ring into his finger. the prince smiles at her, an oddly suspicious look pressed against the features on his face. the princess cocks an eyebrow up in confusion.

"i have one more dream of yours to bring to life"

before she could even question him, the boy turns to nod at the wedding bearer who smiled at him cheerfully. "i officially announce you husband and wife! you may now, kiss the bride!" the man exclaimed, followed by the blow of a loud whistle he had taken out of his cloak. "what?" the girl was cut off as her groom pulled her into his chest, both hands against her face as their lips smashed into each other's. their eyes were closed for a moment, basking into the loving atmosphere before they separated. yn's eyes opened, a gasp escaping her lips at the new scene that surrounded her.

about a thousand blue butterflies had been released, fluttering over the whole garden, decorating the skies of their reception. she turns to face him, the tears just a second away from bursting out of her eyes. "remember..." he says, moving closer to wrap his arms around her waist. "you once told me that something you really really wanted at our wedding..." both their eyes wandered off to the sky, "a billion blue butterflies...i couldn't get a billion, so please make do with the thousand" the boy laughs but yn can't hold it in anymore, a single droplet dripping from the side of her glossy eyes. leehan chuckled, cupping her face and wiping away her tears. "i love you, my queen" and she just smiles, leaning her forehead against his, a butterfly landing against her shoulder.

"i love you too, my king"

the guests all stand up to cheer, as did the residents of the kingdom that still stood crowding the outside of the palace. the parents of the newly wedded couple get up as well, embracing each other and their children in hugs and kisses, joyous at the joining of their families through the young love of their off-springs.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

the newly weds watched from a corner as their guests continued to dance and drink till the skies got dark, giggling softly as they caught mildred and edmund dancing in tears together across the room. yn shivers slightly, the wind of the evening brushing against her bare shoulders. leehan smiles, taking off the blazer of his suit and gently wrapping it around her. "thank you" she says, leaning her head against his side. "no problem, love" he replies, placing a hand on her back.

"the butterflies were amazing, i can't believe you remembered that" the girl laughs, her gaze now fixed onto angel, who was busy trying to claw at one of the pretty insects. "i'm glad you liked them, they were a pain to organize though" he complains playfully, nuzzling his nose against her hair causing the crown on her head to tilt off to the side. "it's perfect" she says, eyes trailing around to follow the way her guests waltzed around the area. he's doing the same, glancing to the scene and then back at her every now and then. "yeah...." he starts, voice quieting down before picking back up again. "it's missing something though..." leehan says, turning fully to his wife who began to nod along with him, as if she knew exactly what her husband was thinking. and then they opened their mouths at the same time, giggling when the exact same silly sentence left their smiley mouths.

"the hundred tier chocolate cake."

the future king takes his future queen's hand in one of his own, the other one pointing towards the dance floor. "your highness, may i please have this dance?" leehan speaks in a so-called heroic voice, his chest puffed out the same he used to when they played make-believe together as kids. yn giggles, nodding along to her husband's act and playing along with him.

"of course, your majesty"

and they lived happily ever after...

the end.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

MOMMY I WANT MY OWN PRINCE LEEHAN 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 hope u guys enjoyed this silly fairytale <3 hehe they're such a cute royal couple but also prayers for the kingdom they're about to rule together.....TT reblogs n feedbacks r always appreciated!! tysm for reading! love, kona.

[denofbloodandlove]

First Timer

Mandi looked at the store like some giant looming beast that she had to battle, never had she been to a sex shop and for good reason. The moment she even thought about sex her face flamed with heat, she was technically embarrassed.  Not because of the act of sex, but because of what she enjoyed watching.  Being only 21 and still a stupid virgin she had, one night, fell down a rabbit hole of aliens, tentacles, and ovipositors.  They only person in the whole world that knew was her best friend JJ, who was as gay and happy as a bag of sunshine and rainbows but also the biggest slut that Mandi knew.   He was the reason they were here at a place called OtherWorlds, a boutique for the weird and unusual.  But according to the website that JJ found, totally normal for people like her.  People who enjoyed the idea of monsters, suckers and knots filling up their bodies. JJ had wanted Mandi to be herself so, like a great best friend searched the world wide web and found this little nugget.  Forced her in the car and drove the three hours it took to show up.   “For fucks sake Mandi, walk in, it’s a sex shop not a fucking scorpion.  Which, by the by, I think they have dildos that resemble the tail.  Lets go!” JJ pushed Mandi over the curb and straight at the door.  The tiny bell jingled as the door opened and Mandi stood frozen at the sight.  JJ however ran right in and began looking. “Come on Mandi! It’s time you experiment!” He giggled as he held up a huge wiggly horse cock.  Covering her face with her hands, Mandi shuffled her way towards JJ.  “Would you stop that!” She whispered as JJ started to flick his wrist, making the soft cock go round in circles.  “I think I need one of these for me girlie!  Man this would feel great shoved in my ass!.” JJ exclaimed as a worker made their over with a grin on her face.   “First time huh?  We can always tell, either too shy or too excited. How can I help you guys? Looking for anything in particular?”   Mandi began to shake her head, but JJ being who he was cut her off.  “Yes, she needs tentacles.  Ovipositors with the eggs that come with.  A medium to large probably since she is……unused shall I say.”  “Oh gods above JJ, really?! Tell everyone that I’ve never had sex why don’t you, jeez.” Mandi buried her face in her hands as JJ laughed, but the woman just smiled and took hold of Mandi.  “I have the perfect stuff, come on.  Most people come in here like this, first timers, shy because of what they like but its no biggie.”  As Mandi followed the lady she looked on the walls.  Dildos of massive sizes were displayed, some had giant heads with long thin bodies while some were reversed, had a slender head but a massive shaft. Some were so large it looked like it would split her in half.  Gulping down what she knew was excitement she kept walking.  How could she be excited about her feeling like she would be getting cut in two?  Another section housed more horse cocks, small ones, medium, massive ones that looked like when fully inserted it could reach her throat.  Near the horse cocks, were wolves.  These too were in various sizes but they had knots as the bases.  Some had multiple knots throughout the shaft, going from regular at the head, knot, shaft, bigger knot, shaft, and even bigger knot.  Wouldn’t a person get stuck on that?   How would her cunt feel so stretched out that she would literally be stuck on a cock. Mandi felt sweat trickle down her back at the thought.   “You know I can tell what you’re thinking buy the looks on your face, you don’t hide your facial expressions well.  My name is Nimmie, and yes the wolf cocks do feel amazing stuck inside of you.  Too big to slide out but to big to push further in.  Your pussy trapped on an immovable object, trust me, its worth it. Worth the pain. The dragon cocks are much the same without the knots.”  Nimmie pointed towards a display case that housed a pleothra of muticolored dildos.  Some were short and fat while others had what looked like scales in different layers to add a whole new feeling as it pushed against the walls of a pussy or ass. “But these are what you’re after. Yes?” Mandi looked over her shoulder as Nimmie pointed to a blue/black wall.  Her mouth popped open as she saw so many different kinds of tentacle dildos. S-curved that ended in a point, short stubby ones that had a bulbous head, each one had different sized suckers on it, mimicking a real octopus.   “But, I think your friend mentioned ovis, you’re more interested in the eggs and the feeling of them inside you, right?  I’ve used one, fuck it was the best orgasm I’ve ever had.  But that was our old stock we got some brand new ones no one has ever tried.  They look amazing.  Here.” Nimmie reached down and under a self, pulling out what looked like long slender tube with a short flat head on top.  It was a dark mossy green that faded into yellow at the tip.  Reading the package her eyes widened at the size.  Nearly nine inches in length  and at the widest nearly two inches at the base.  But what intrigued her more was the carton that was attached to the underside of the plastic container that held the cock.  “Its eggs! Look! Turn in over, each one is in their own cum, to give you that real effect.  So what you do, theres twelve by the way.  So what you do is you have to place the cock on the floor and through the opening at the tip of the cock, you just insert the eggs, push them all down and have your fun. As you fuck it, see the little button, you push that and the didlo will start to undulate and push the eggs into you, all that cum and eggs filling your cunt up.  When you’re done, pop off and push the eggs out, and repeat as many times as you want.  The cum, its some kind of new material that doesn’t wash away, like an egg sack thing. I dunno, but I can’t wait to try it myself..” Mandi turned the package over looking it over and listening to Nimmie talk about it.  Fuck, but she was wet just imagining it.  She had watched a porn with this woman who had something similar. The eggs had fallen out of her swollen cunt, falling to the ground in pleasurable ‘plops’.  She wondered if they would sound the same falling out of her.  And could she take all twelve at once? Mandi ran her hands over the eggs, thinking about where she could place it and fuck it. That was the moment JJ ran up to her, his arms filled with lube and cocks.  “Get me outta here girlie before I go broke.  You found something?” Nodding her head, she hid the ovi behind her and together they walked to the register.   ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ “I know you got that egg thing girlie, call me after and tell me ALL about it! I for one am going shove these beautiful things up my ass.”  JJ kissed Mandi on each cheek and left her standing at her door with the black bag in her hand.  Excitement rode her.  Mandi could feel her slick cunt, needy and ready to take in her first dildo.  The apex of her thighs felt heavy with need yet hollow.  It was like a low ache, one that was almost painful right behind her entrance.  She could almost feel her own heartbeat in her pussy, each thump of her heart knocking at her tight entrance.  Placing her phone down, she hit record and then began to undress.  Throwing off her clothes, she knelt on the floor and positioned herself so she could watch her body take in the cock.  Once everything was lined up correctly, she opened the plastic package with trembling fingers.  The cock itself was soft and malleable, but at the thick base she could feel beads that would rotate upwards, she figured those were how the eggs would get pushed up and into her pussy.  Next she opened the eggs.  Sighing, Mandi reverently grabbed the first one.  Nimmie was right, it felt as if the egg was encased in the same slime like substance a chicken egg was surrounded by.  The clear like slime wiggled between her fingers as it slipped from her grip into palm after palm, her hands rotating to constantly catch it.  Biting her bottom lip, Mandi held it to her face and it roll against her cheek.  It felt so warm, almost as if the crate it was in kept them a certain temperature. Before she could think better of it, Mandi popped it into her mouth.  The gel like casing rolled on her tongue and nearly down her throat.  But the taste.  It was like an aphrodisiac straight to her pussy.  Juices flowed and coated her thighs as she leaned her head back and moaned, rolling the egg on her tongue and nearly down her throat. Gagging she coughed the egg up and into her hand.  She’d definitely  have to practice more on how to hold that in her mouth, maybe with the cock fucking her throat too.  Mandi fingered the cocks opening and watched as the egg slide down and into the tube where the other 11 quickly followed.   Taking a deep breath, Mandi ran her fingers through her swollen pussy, her clit was so enlarged it hurt, her fingers rubbed hard on her clit, eliciting a long low moan from her throat, then she squatted over the cock.  Her back was against a wall and with wide eyes she watched herself slowly get impaled on the camera of her phone.   Her tight pussy pushed against the head of the cock, opening her pushing against her maiden head.  She watched in fascination as her cunt spread, allowing a foreign object to be inserted, thankfully the cock wasn’t giant at the tip, but she could feel the resistance of her flesh, pushing back, not wanting anything to push past her barrier.  Her thighs burned as she lifted herself up slightly then fell back down a second time. This round pushed hard the cock breaking though and she let out a painful moan as the cock stretched her new flesh, up and down she moves, deeper and deeper her squats came as she fucked herself down nearly to the two inch base. Her pussy ached, burned as it stretched and tears welled in her eyes. It was too big!   But she thought about those wolf cocks and getting stuck, widening her stance Mandi leaned back and placed her hands on the floor and moved her hips.  Her pussy made sucking sounds as the cock moved in and out, deeper until she screamed in pain, fuck she wanted to get stuck, wanted this foreign cock with its eggs to seal her pussy as the eggs pumped into her.     Tears gathered in her eyes as she moved her legs farther out, her knees hit the floor with a sharp thud and she sat, forcing her pussy to sit down all the way on the cock.  Looking into her phone, she could see the skin stretched, her cunt swollen and red, her clit hard and ready for the slightest of touches to send her over the edge.  Taking a deep breath, Mandi lifted one leg and felt her way around the base, finding that button Nimmie talked about.  Pushing it down, the beads that sat at the base of the cock began to vibrate, rotate around and up.  Her cunt tightened its grip and her body jerked as she rotated her hips.  Fuck she could feel the eggs rising with the undulations of the beads.

“Fuck. Fuck, Fuck!” Mandi panted as her hand left the floor and slapped at her swollen clit in tandem.  She felt the first egg explode from the cock and straight into her, she could feel it right against her cervix, followed by another, then another.  Her hand slapped harder at her clit and as she moved she looked down at her flat belly, she watched as her skin moved, pushed out by the eggs filling her.

Her orgasm took root and she flung her head back and screamed.  Pressure like never before built low in her belly as she came.  Her hand never stopped slapping and rubbing her clit until it was too much and she lifted off the cock, her pussy releasing all her cum and juices in one great spasm.  She watched in awe as she squirted, the eggs falling out of her one by one with a wet slimy pop. One after another she watched as she forced her pussy to push the remaining eggs out, each one slowly falling to the floor.  Her pussy pulsed and her body trembled with aftershocks of the best fucking orgasm ever!

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“I’m telling you JJ I think I lost one! I have eleven eggs nit twelve! What happens if one is still inside me? What am I going to do? Go to the doctor and say hey doc by the way I fucked an alien dong, had its fake eggs shoved inside of me and now I lost one.  Can you look in my cunt and tell me what you see?”

JJ just laughed, “It probably rolled under something so stop freaking out! But look we need to go back to that store, cause girl I done used all that lube and those dildos! I’m so gaped I could fit my fist in there!” Shaking her head, she finished her conversation with JJ, thinking that he was probably right.  The eggs had come out at first so fast that she lost one.  Had to be.

That night Mandi lay curled on her side, her thoughts on sleep, her mind drifting off into nothingness, she felt a soft, wet squelch come from between her thighs.  Moaning in her sleep, her body thrashed about, wetness soaked her pussy and sheets as her legs spread by some unseen force.  Through her sleep, pain had her eyes flip open and she screamed as e cunt stretched.  Her knees bent and she rose on her elbows as she looked down her body.  One long thick tentacle slide from her cunt.  It was the same hues as the dildo, it slid from her pussy and onto her thigh, the rings of the suction cups molding to her flesh. Scrambling away, her body spasmed as the tentacle stayed stuck inside of her womb, the one long tentacle slithered off her thigh and moved up, the tip pushing through the slit of her wet core. The pointed tip flicked her clit hard enough to shock Mandi into pure pleasure.

“Ohmagod its real.  Oh fuuuck its real.” Her voice went from a high-pitched scared cadence to a low, pleasurable moan.  This is what she had fantasized about the first time she watched that damn porn.  Her fantasy becoming a reality.  The alien inside of her wiggled growing thicker, spreading her sunt much like the dildo did, stretching her to the point of pain, sealing tight.  The tip of the tentacle slide back and forth on her clit, the suction cups moving languidly over her clit, sucking and releasing each time with each suction cup.  The thick base shoved deep in her began to slither in and out, fucking her until she could no longer stand it, her orgasm tore through her body.  Her body bowed off the bed, every muscle seized in pleasure and her cum flowed from her pussy in great rushes around the tentacle. Her breathing labored she lifted her head to watch the tentacle move and slither back into her cunt, her lower belly becoming slightly pooched out where it rested in her womb.  

Would the other eleven eggs be the same? If they stayed in her would they hatch too?  How many could she keep inside of her at once?  She wanted to fond out.  Would it be like that porn?  A tentacle for every hole? Her mouth, ass and pussy all having one at the same time? Her pussy pulsed as her cum leaked from her open slit.  There was only one way to find out.  Jumping out of bed, she found the ovipositor, and began to pop the remaining eggs into the cock.  Her belly wiggled in anticipation as she positioned her phone once more, then sank low on the cock, hoping that the other eleven eggs would too take root inside of her womb.  

[mandy-asimp]

heartache, and other aches

parings: melissa schemmenti x fem!reader

summary: working on the furthest side of Abbott meant you avoided the cameras a lot. especially when you would always have everything you need in your classroom. but the inevitable day came when you needed to journey to the teachers lounge.

warnings: language, smut, teasing, praise kink, mommy kink, fingering, cunnilings, aftercare, fluff at the end

a/n: the way i didnt know if there was just gonna be smut or more but the lawd made her path🙏 (once again if you see mispells shhh i did proof but i mightbe missed somethings)

How could you have been so careless?! You avoided that hall all year. All. Year. Now towards the end you have to find Ava for a student file to write your report.

It was her lunch time you knew that much. Which is why you expexted her to be in her office. Eating her lunch like every other time you’ve crossed her.

Carefully to not be in any camera, you made your way into the teacher’s lounge. Relieved when nobody but a few background teachers were in there.

“Oh hey y/n! Weird seeing you here,” Ava came in with a smile. “Looking for something?”

“Well I hava a report and I needed the folder from your office but couldn’t find you.” You puffed out while taking a seat. “And it’s even weirder that you’re in here without the others?”

And it was like a sixth sense, because you didn’t end your conversation you just left and just missed the camera crew. Listening to the laughter of the few teachers in there.

“One day they’ll catch her.” Jacob,laughed while walking in. “Has she ever really walked in here?”

Ava shrugged and went back to her lunch. Meanwhile Melissa and Barb walked in together.

“I’m serious Barb, even though were on the older side, we should try working out just once! There’s this nice, quiet gym not too far,” the red head was determined. “I read it was really friendly and neighborhood owned.”

“Oh I know that gym!” Ava quipped. Catching both the woman’s attention. “Yeah its really nice, a lot of the teachers around here tend to go to the more known gyms, but that one is friendly.”

“See!” Melissa beamed.

Barb contiplated the thought. Only to shake her head once more. “I’m too old to dry and lift weights,” she sighed.

Melissa scoffed. But before she could say anything Jacob spoke up. “Ya know, if you’re looking for a gym partner you could go ask y/n. She goes there daily.”

“Y/n?” Melissa became puzzled. Who were you?

Ava nodded. “Yeah, she’s really good and fit. Fine as hell too! She’s in room 216.”

“That’s on the other side of the school though?” Barbra furrowed her brows. Not understanding how there’s a teacher she’s never met.

The two shrug and left at the sound of the bell. “216 is where she can be found. No cameras though, or she’ll never let you in.”

The woman looked at each other, lost on the whole conversation. But then Barb smiled. “Seems like you have a gym buddy, which means I dont have to be!” She beamed. Taking her seat before the other teachers come in along with the camera crew.

Meanwhile, on the otherside of the school, Jacob and Ava came barging in. Disrupting your speech before you let your kids off to lunch and ‘study hall’(which was really them in the library in the furthest corner)

“Alright, now I don’t want another email from other teachers of you guys almost starting a fight. You’re the oldest ones in this building, act like it. Now go, be free for an hour. When you get back we’re gonna vote for our last book of the year.” You dismissed. Watching as they all scattered.

“You’re gonna thank us!” Jacob smiled hoping into your bean bag chair. You and Ava followed over.

“I may have found you that gym buddy you always wanted,” Ava filled you in quickly. “And she’s your type.”

Your eyes widened. “Absolutely not! I can work out if I know she’s watching me!” You shook your head. “I appreciate it but when I said I wanted a gym buddy I meant more so someone who already goes to the same gym. Like, I don’t know…”

“You needed a little push! You are never going to act on that crush hidden in this well decorated and cozy and well stocked classroom,” the two agreed. “Just give it a chance, who knows, maybe she won’t even come ask you!”

Just then there was a knock on your door. All three heads snapped to see the red head in question.

You were the first to look away. Wishing to be swallowed into a hole in the moment. “Can you two excuse us?” You whispered to them, ignoring their smiles. They nodded and scrambled away. “What can I do for you Ms. Schemmenti?”

“I’m sorry…I was just looking for Y/n?” She apologized. You only softly laughed. Making her realize, you were the one she was told about. But you look like you could barely hurt a fly. Your braids were almost perfectly done, your body fit your clothes in ways that nobody else’s could, but most of all, you didn’t look like you hit the gym everyday. “Really?”

“I was told I should be expecting you, but I didn’t think I’d get the honor so soon.” You moved to put papers around on the desk. “So, what do I owe the visit?”

“I’ve never once seen you on school grounds before.” She was still trying to process you. “I thought room 216 was Nancy’s class?”

“Mrs. Freeman left last year, Ava knew of me and gave me the spot. Said she’d keep it on the ‘DL’ for me.” You recapped the day she had texted you.

“And how close are you with Ava?”

“Close enough to be constantly invited out with her and never able to say no. She has this thing for trying to set me up with any woman who looks my way,” you could only chuckle at the antics.

Melissa lit up like a christmas tree at the mention. You? Woman? You can’t be real!

You retreated to your desk. Folding you hands and resting your head on them. A silence taking over the room. One you didn’t like. “Why’d you come here?”

She took a hesitant step closer. “I…I wanted to ask you about the gym you go to?” You nodded lightly for her to conintue. “Do you by chance want a work out buddy? Because I know I’m old but it-,”

“You’re not old?” You cut her off. Shaking you head with furrowed brows. “And I’d be more than happy to have you accompany me, but just know I go a bit late. I’ll pick you up later, how does that sound?”

Melissa was at a loss for words, so she shook her head and went on her way. Instantly coming back in to write down her number and address. A deep blush covering her face and chest.

You however, kept your face neutral. Trying to hide the overwhelming excitement that flooded your bones.

Once she was gone you could only kick your feet and silently scream.

~~~~~~~~

It was late. Almost considerably too late. You text Melissa at 7 saying be ready by 8:30. And you however, didn’t know she lived on the further side of the city. So by 9:30 you had arrived. Ringing her doorbell.

The door opened, and she didn’t look pleased with your timing. “You’re an hour late.”

“You failed to mention you lived closer to Mrs. Howard.” You frowned. She let you in, signaling for you to wait in the kitchen.

“And you know where Barbra lives? None of us have even ever seen you, so how would you know?” She raised a brow. Making a water bottle for herself.

You blushed at how you knew. “It may have been a one night stand over here. And one morning before work I saw her leaving. She leaves so early.”

Melissa scoffed. A feeing of jealousy bubbled in her. “You? A one night stand? I highly doubt it!”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You folded your arms. Suddenly feeing agitated. “You don’t think I have it in me?”

“No! I really don’t. I mean look at you. You look like you could pass as a librarian with how small and cute you are. You hardly look like you drink.” She turned. Resting agaisnt the counter.

She was challenging you and you both knew it. But you wouldn’t back down from this. “Really? Thats what I appear to you? A fragile librarian?”

“Nothing short of one. I’m surprised you even have a gym membership.” She shurgged. “Don’t worry angel, its ok to be a librarian.”

Angel. “We’re on nicknames already?” You quirked a brow. You attempted to ignore the blush that heavily took over your face.

“I guess we are. So it seems you have to give me one. Its only fair.” She beamed. Straightening up once you started to walk forward. You had this look in your eyes that she couldn’t decipher.

Soon enough you had her between yourself and the counter she once rested on. Her breathing picked up slightly. How could you have this effect?

You leaned in close to her ear. Biting on her lobe before humming. “I’ll have to think…what about…mommy?” You smiled pulling away to look in her eyes.

They were darker than before and just as she inched closer to connect your lips, you pulled back. Pushing off her and walking towards the door.

“Gym gets empty in an hour, it’ll be perfect timing.” You acted as if nothing happened. As if you didn’t just flirt heavily with her.

“How far is the gym?” Melissa tried to recollect herself.

You beamed, “only twenty minutes away. But, you picked someone who’s been going to the same gym since freshman year.”

Her green eyes widened. “What’s that supposed to mean?!” She followed you out.

You both got in the car and you just smiled at her. Starting the drive while humming along to the music.

And the night was the start of many. But every single night after, you would go home to take the worlds coldest showers. You were always down for her. Hands always on her, and you said it was just spotting. You never went more than a fether light touch.

But your eyes had a mind of their own. They would stare at her. Her ever curve. The way her workout clothes hugged and did her justice. How her hair was tied up until she would shake it out and then flash you a smile. Throwing a wink in as well.

“Schemmenti, better be careful before I start making moves on you.” You would joke.

“And who says I don’t want you to do that? Wouldnt you like to be mommy’s?” Was always her reply. Knowing that the words made you flush.

But she never knew you would go home to your bed. Hand between your legs while you played out many fantasies with her.

Always imaging it was her fingers knuckle deep. Aways her edging you till tears. Always her praising you. Always a good girl for mommy she would whisper in your ear as she pounded into you.

Or if it was you in the cold shower with her warm body behind you. Her hand tracing tight circles in a fast pattern till you were shaking in her arms. A whisper of you’re ok, mommy’s here. I got you.

Maybe it was the one of you and her at the empty gym. You would catch her staring at you while you took off your sweatshirt. Crimson covering your face as you looked away. Her soft hand would cup your face a smirk on her face. Mommy’s pretty play thing would fall from her mouth.

Or worse. Somehow and someway she would drop by unexpectedly while you moaned her name. You wouldnt even make it to your bed. Youd be sprawled out on the couch in the sweatshirt she once gave you when some guys checked you out. Whimpers and pleads for her to come finish you. She would chuckle mommy’s dirty girl. Couldn’t even make it to your room.

“Y/n? Girl who is taking up that mind of yours?” Ava walked in your class. She had caught you staring looking so stressed out at your papers. “Is it that gym buddy?” She teased. Laughing loudly when your let your head fall and nod.

“Ava, it’s a curse I swear!” You whined. Rolling your head to watch her sit on the rolly chair and come close. “It’s literally every night at this point. I’m in heat or whatever constantly and nothing is soothing it. I even tried a one night stand with some random lady at a bar and it didn’t work! I just…she’s making me feel like there is nothing but her to fix it.”

“Ok, then have sex with her!” Ava chirped. Her smile was different though. You knew that smile. That was the smile of mischief.

You picked you head up when you registered it. “Ava what did you do?”

She snorted as there was a knock at your door. “Gave you the boost you needed.” She wiggled her brows before you looked at the door.

Melissa stood there. Smirking at everything you said. “I’m out before it gets sweaty, this lace ain’t cut out for that!”

She rushed passed mummbling something to Melissa before looking at you. She flipped her hair and walked out.

You couldnt move. The redness on your face began to infect your chest. And it wasn’t any help that you wore a cami with a cradigan today.

Melissa walked in, closing the door behind her, you missed when she locked it. “So…” Her voice was low. “Is it true?”

You couldn’t look at her. You were beyond embarrassed. You opened your mouth but shut it almost instantly.

“Look at me baby,” she hummed. You couldn’t tell if this was real or not. Your breathing was quick. You had to be in a dream. “Angel. I won’t ask again.”

On that you turned you head. Thinking the blush couldnt deepen until you felt fire. She was right there. So close.

Her index finger was under your chin, making you look up at her. “Every night?”

A quiet whimper left your throat. It was so quiet. You thought you would be safe seeing as your heart beat was louder.

“Every night.” She said again with the devil’s grin. “I’ll see you tonight for the gym angel, wear something cute ok?”

You could’ve died right there. You gave her a dazed nod. Lips parting as she walked away.

But as her hand made the lock, you couldn’t contain yourself. You moved quicker than your chair falling to the ground. The sudden noise making Melissa turn to find you already behind her.

You, with no thought behind your eyes, grabbed her face and pulled her into a kiss. It was seering for you. It was what you wanted. What you needed to further everything you’ve ever thought of.

Every dirty thought about her suddenly felt possible. It was now a maybe that you could have this woman. All you wanted was this woman.

It was what you needed to let out that needy whimper for her. The noise wasn’t even close to embarrassing you. You knew you would be a mess for her. And the noises that would come from you were what she needed.

Melissa kissed you back, maybe not as intense, but certainly telling you she wanted it too. But the moment that beautiful noise you let out made its way to her ears, she couldn’t take it. She broke away first.

Her eyes slowly opened before yours. You still were in your own world. Even while your eyes were open. She could see the fuzziness in those blown pupils.

“I’ll see you later angel, be good for me will ya’?” She pecked your cheek before leaving you.

Tears pricked at your eyes. You needed her desperately and didn’t know if you could make it till that late. But you wanted to be her good girl, so even if it made you ache, you would hold off.

That’s exactly what happened though. Your body ached and your lips longed for her. Her soft touch caressing you in ways you couldn’t think were possible. Her green eyes staring down at you as you came undone from just another kiss. How her teeth would shine when she smiles at you again. How her teeth would feel with her nibbling at your heated skin.

You couldn’t pull it together. You knew you couldn’t. You had to see her again. It’s how you found your way to her class room. You never went in though.

What if you come off too needy? What if she gets repulsed by it? How badly you need her though. Her soft touch would make you fall apart almost instantly.

Your thoughts got the better of you and you broke into a sweat. Feeling suddenly too hot to even breathe.

You knew you weren’t gonna make it. You wanted to try. You had only two hours left. How bad could that be?

~~~~~~~~~~~

Terrible. Thats how it was. Not only did you get flirtatious text every ten minutes, but your students had noticed your sudden ansy behavior. Your leg was constantly bouncing, you had hardly taught them anything, barely looked up to see what they were doing. You just couldn’t break your eyes away from the papers.

“Ms. y/l/n?” One student called. Getting a distant hum from you. “Are you ok? You lookin’ mad flushed…”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Um our book for the rest of the year. Do you guys really want to do it?” You glamced around at them all. Everyone was agreeing no. “Right, ok, so what if we didn’t then? What if I told you your last project is a presentation on whatever you want?”

They all seemed to enjoy that idea so much more. “Why the sudden change?” A girl poked.

You shrugged. “You’re not gonna learn anything from a book. So the book presentation will be changed to what you want. Just somehow connect it to what weve learned. You can start now, or the rest of the day is yours!” You had a small smile watching them move around.

That was how your day ended. A loud class and shaky legs.

The first moment they were all gone, was the same one as you locking the door and crumbling onto the ground.

The ache between your legs was excruciating. You needed a relief and you needed it soon or you might actually die.

Your hand gripped at your stomach. It felt tense. Too tense. You were so focused on trying to pull yourself together, you missed the knock on your door. Also the rattling of the door knob.

Tears began to stream down your face. How could one woman not touch you and make you feel so much?

“Y/n! Hun, are you ok?” You could hear the worried voice of Melissa next to you. Her hand delicately falling on your back. The contact made you cry out. Trying to get away from the pain. “Angel, what’s wrong?”

You shook your head. Grabbing on the side of a desk and standing up. “N..Nothing. I’m ok!” You tried. Eyes glancing to Ava who was confused. But once she saw your eyes, she knew exactly what was wrong.

“Just text me if you need anything!” She winked before closing the door and rushing away.

Melissa stared at you as you tried to collect your bags. “Y/n?” You kept in your own world. “Y/n, please talk to me.”

You turned and looked at her. Staring in her eyes with the widest pupil’s she’s ever seen. “I…you’re…” You couldnt get any of it out. So you kissed her. Not like earlier. Not with the heat you had been feeling. No. This was more simple. Careful. Meaningful.

“Oh…” She hummed once you pulled back. “I see…”

You frowned. There was something that told you, you weren’t getting that relief so easily. It pained you again that more tears sprang from your eyes.

“Please,” you whispered out. Choking on a quiet sob. “I..I can’t handle it. I’ll be good but please Mel. It hurts,” you could only whisper these words.

She held you cheek, her thumb wiping away the tears. She kissed the top of your head. “Lets go home then? I’ll cook you dinner, how does that sound?”

You had a glisten in your eye. She said home. As if you already were her’s. You hugged her tightly, burrying you head into her neck.

“I know princess,” She had a smile in her words. “Lets go home.”

You two left hand in hand out the building. Never once letting go (except for putting your bags down).

Melissa opened the door for you, “Make yourself cozy on the couch baby, I’ll bring you over clothes to change into.”

You furrowed your brows. You didn’t leave clothes here? But when Melissa handed you the sweatshirt, and only the sweatshirt, you lit up at her.

Pulling all your clothes off right there and covering yourself in her. Hugging yourself tightly and smelling the fabric.

“Come on baby, come keep me company while I cook yeah?” She held out her hand. Beaming once you took it.

She could sense you felt better. And you were. All her attention was yours. You were glowing in it.

Melissa lifted you up onto the counter. Standing between your legs and placing a soft kiss to your lips.

You watched her cook while sipping on a glass if juice. You weren’t that big of a drinker, which came as no surprise to you fiery red head.

She had assumed so too, and last night when Ava texted her the plan, she had to go buy you apple juice (Ava mentioned it was your favorite).

Once she finished she handed you the plate and stayed between your legs. Both of you ate off of the same plate while talking.

Melissa, however, could only focus on how cute you looked. Sitting here in her sweatshirt, in her home. Most of all, it was the look in your eyes any time you got to put a fork full of pasta in her mouth. Had she fallen deeper than she thought?

“Melly?” You frowned. You had asked a question and she just stared at you. Almost smitten by something.

She leaned forward, kissing you all over your face with care. Placing a final one to your lips. “I’m sorry angel, what’d you say?”

“I asked howd you learned to cook so fast?” You cheesed. The kisses making up for the lack of undivided attention.

“I grew up with it. It’s a family thing I guess.” She answered. Her eyes falling to the plate that was empty. “Let’s get cleaned up?”

You nodded your head and hopped down the counter. Getting ready to wash the plate until you were stopped. “Baby, you’re at home, relax.”

She did it again. The home thing. You couldn’t understand it, but the feeling it was making you feel. Warm and fuzzy.

Melissa tried to push you to the couch, which was her having to lead you the entire way. She tried to leave you alone. Yet you didn’t want to be away from her. You grabbed her hand and pulled her down to you. Kissing her lips hungrily.

She tried to hide her excitement for what would happen, but she wanted to see you wait longer. “Soon pretty girl,” She said into the kiss.

You grew upset at that. “I’ve been good! I can’t wait any longer!” You fussed. “You’re not being fair.”

She laughed at that. Not a soft chuckle, a full laugh. One that actually made you feel a bit embarrassed at this childish behavior. “You are such a needy thing. But I have to clean up dinner before we do anything.” Her hand rested on your chest. Feeling the drumming of your heart.

You grabbed at her wrist. Slowly teasing yourself as you pushed it to run down you body. Letting her cup you heat. Feeling how soaked you were.

A moan leaving you as she took control and added pressure. “Please!” You damn near screamed. Your eyes glossed over. “I need you! I can’t wait!”

She kissed your neck. Once. Twice. Then sunk her teeth into your pulse point. Listening to your body as you bucked into her hand. Trying to get yourself off on it.

“Be careful baby, if I start now I don’t know if we’ll make it to school tomorrow.” She smirked at you. “Or do you want me to wreck this pretty pussy?”

You nodded your head eagerly. “Yes! God! Yes!” You shook. Was it cause you were cold? Or was it you were that in need? The answer was definitely the latter. Your body felt on fire. It was too hot in this sweatshirt but you didn’t want to take it off.

Her lips found yours. Her hand wrapping your legs around her. Where she lifted you up. The gym really did begin to pay off. “Then who am I to deny you?”

She walked you all the way to her bed. Gently setting you on the edge while she knelt at the end. Kissing in your thighs and over your waistband.

Her index fingers hooked between the band and your skin, she dreadfully slow pulled them down. Down your thighs. Down your calfs. Onto the floor.

The fabric was almost instantly replaced with her mouth. She wasn’t going to waste a single second.

“God, angel, you taste so good. And you’re so wet. All this for me?” She licked you up. Wanting ever drop you would give her.

The feeling brought you right to the edge. You’d been longing for so long. “Melly…”

“You’re so sensitive baby, go ahead.” She granted. Feeling how you hand held her close while you rode out your high. She smiled once you let up.

You were panting for her. Shaking already. “What do you want from me angel? What can-,” you pulled her close. Hugging onto her while your hips grinded against her still.

Your lips ghosted over her ear. Your warm breath sending shivers over her. “Want mommy to ruin me.” You hummed.

She never thought you would say that name in this situation. She truly thought you two were joking about the name.

When she looked into your eyes, hers turned to a forest green almost. She had to give you everything. Had to keep you.

“Get comfortable then my princess. Mommy’s gonna make sure you can’t remember anything but the feelings.” She pushed you up further on the bed.

Her jeans brushed over your naked half. Making you realize how much clothing she had on compared to you.

“Melly…” You called for her attention. Immediately getting her eyes on you, making you smile. “Your clothes.”

You pulled at her shirt. Desperate to see her supple skin. “Why don’t you do the honors then?”

No second was given before you were sitting up. Hands at the hem of her shirt. Fingers dancing under as you pushed it up. Revealing the sight you desired. Your eyes snapped up to hers. Not wanting to be disrespectful (even though she had just eaten you out).

“You’re beautiful…” You kissed her. All of the heat and need you felt was gone. This was raw emotions.

This was you.

And Melissa knew that. Its what made her falter from her spot.

How could someone as young as you think that about her? You had so many options and here you were.

She knew she had fallen in love. But she would wait to tell you that.

“Let me make you feel good,” you climbed on top of her lap. Kissing from her lips, to her jaw, and down her neck. Leaving only one bruise on her pulse point.

Her moans and airy gasp fueled you to keep going. She needed this just as much as you did.

Your hands pushed her back. Now she laid and gave you better access to her collar bone. Were you left more hickeys. She would be in sweatshirts for at least a week.

“Baby…” her breathy voice was almost begging.

You lifted up, looking in her eyes. “What do you need mommy?” You smiled that charming smile.

She bucked her hips up at the name, listening to you laugh. “I need you my pretty girl. Touch me in ways you’ve dreamt ok? Can you be my good girl and do that?”

You couldn’t lie, as much as you wanted her to take you, this was better. This was something you didn’t know you wanted.

Your left hand caressed her boob, making her arch into your touch. Giving you the chance to unclasp the bra. Freeing her chest from the restraints.

You pulled it off and connected your mouth to her right boob. Your hand playing with the other. You couldn’t help put graze your teeth over her sensitive bud.

You switched shortly after. Her moans spurring you on in ways you never knew. “Just like that baby. Such a good girl for mommy,” she moaned. Her words pulling a moan from you as well.

You began to drop your kisses lower. Taking time to acknowledge her body. Hands running around, trying to memorize everything.

You kissed along the waistband of her jeans. Your eyes looking up to hers, finding them already looking at you.

You shifted to slot a thigh between hers. Pressing it against her core hard. Watching her arch into it.

She knew you had done this before, but she never expected you to be so good at knowing where to hit.

“Your jeans mommy,” you left sensual kisses behind her ear. “They’re restricting.”

She didn’t answer, no, instead she fumbled with the buttons and zipper. Letting you assist her in getting them off and on the floor. You had her completely at you mercy. This was becoming better and better.

You met her cute pink panties. Smirking at the little bow it had. “Mommy, you’re soaked.” You eyes shined in the dim lighting. “Can I?”

Her hips bucked, “Of course princess, but hurry!”

And hurry you did. You dived right in. Your tongue working wonders on her bundle of nerves. You worked her up quickly with just one muscle. Dipping down to her hole and feeling it clenching around nothing. You teased her like you knew would have you pinned.

“Just like that baby! Mommy’s so close!” Melissa panted. Her hips snapping to meet your movement. “Right there! Fuck! Don’t stop!”

But you did. You did stop. You pulled away and waited for her response. Her head rolled to look at you. Her mouth opening to yell, scream, all because you denied her. Yet it fell open when you slammed three fingers in easily. You felt her walls flutter around you. Smirking at how you had her.

You had the Melissa Schemmenti coming undone on your fingers.

You kissed at her neck. Guiding her through the high and trying to ignore the ache you felt once again.

She sat up and pulled you into a kiss. “Mommy’s good girl.” She whispered. Listening to the whimper that left you. She hummed at the noise. “Is someone all needy again?”

You nodded with a sad face. Grabbing her hand and guiding it to where you wanted it. Gasping once she didn’t even hesitate to slipping three fingers into you. You shuddered and held onto her shoulders.

“Go on, since you wanna be the top so bad. Ride mommy’s fingers. Fuck yourself until you forget about all the woman in the past. The ones that will never fuck you like how I will.” She said against your ear. Feeling you start to bounce in her hands.

“Just like that baby. Look at you!”

“I bet you wont ever whore yourself out to anyone again.”

“You’re so perfect.”

“Mommy’s pretty girl.”

Her words hit you hard. They did things to your mind that connected to your core. “Mommy…I’m-,”

“I know you are angel. Go ahead. Mommy wants to feel you cum.” You started to become sloppy. Shaking when she curled her fingers to hit you right. Making you fall apart in her arms. Gripping onto her shoulders for some form of grounding.

You hide your burning cheeks in her neck. Giving almost non exsisting kisses to her skin.

And after a moment, she slowly pulled out her fingers. Hushing the nosies that left you. “I know, I know baby. But mommy’s not done with you yet.”

Your eyes grew at those words. What else had she planned on.

Carefully, Melissa laid you down and moved to her drawers. “Don’t move or you’ll ruin the surpirse baby.” You couldn’t see her. But you weren’t alone for long. She had you above her again. Hovering over her lap. “How are you feeling y/n?”

She could see the lost mindset you were in. Was she going to far with this? Your eyes were trained between you both.

“It’s big…” you could only swallow. “Will it hurt?”

“Only for a minute baby. We can take it slow, ok? Or we can stop here.” She gave you options.

You were silent. “What if…I don’t want to go slow? What if…I want it to be quick and painful?” You looked at her. She was clearly shocked. “Or! we can, I mean we don’t!”

You got cut of by the loudest moan of your life. She bottomed out in you in one quick movement. You felt the burn. The stretch.

She wasn’t one to let you go shy on her now. Melissa wanted to watch you loose your senses. It’s how you ended on your back as she pounded into you.

The red head showed absolutely no mercy for you. She wanted to overstimulate you.

Her thumb was added to your clit. She was moving fast. Faster than you would’ve ever thought possible. But god did it feel amazing.

Melissa seemed to know your body more than you. She brought you through several orgasms in such a quick manner. Making you loose all verbal responses and just noises.

You didn’t know bow many you were on but you felt wiped. Too sensitive. You quickly came, and as she fucked you through it, you could tell she was gonna push you for another. But you thought couldn’t take another.

You tapped on her hand, hopinf she would let up, but she didn’t. She just laughed. “One more baby. You’re doing so good for me. Such a sweet girl. Letting mommy fuck you like this. You can give me on more right? After that we’ll get you all cleaned up. Be a good girl for me and cum, princess.” She talked you through it. Staring intently as you shook under her. “That’s it pretty girl. You’re ok. Mommy’s here.”

She took the chance while you were blissed out to pull out and discard of the fake appendage. Scooping you into her arms and holding you tightly as you cried in her arms.

They were happy tears. “I know, I’m sorry baby. You did so well. So incredibly well. I can’t even believe the feelings you feel right now. You’re mommy’s good girl. Her sweet girl. Her princess. Imma move is to the bathroom ok? We’ll take a nice warm bubble bath.”

~~~~~~~

That morning you woke up in someone else’s bed. You rolled to look at the side clock. It was well into the day now. You missed work, andnit would’ve made you worried if there wasn’t a certain woman walking in with a bag of food.

“Good morning sunshine,” She was quiet. Last night rushed back to you in a flash. “How do you feel?”

You sat up and could only smile with sleep. “Did you call Ava?” Was your first question.

“She was the one who had the subs covered the moment we left yesterday. I brought you your favorite.” She held up the bag.

You furrowed your brows. “But that’s all the way across thw city?”

“I know, but my special girl deserved it.” She sat down with you and started placing the food on the covers.

“Wait! The sheets are covered in…” You were worried. You weren’t one to let good food be touched like that.

“I changed them last night. You fell asleep in the tub and I took it as a chance. I promise they’re all clean.” She winked at you.

You looked at her with a blank stare. She was about to ask you ‘what’ but you brought her close and kissed her with care.

“Thank you Melly,” you whispered out.

She hummed. “Of course angel, you’re at home, you might as well be treated like a queen.”

“You did it again.”

“What?”

“Home?”

“Yeah?”

“You keep saying this is my home?”

“Cause it is?”

“No, this is yours?”

“Y/n, have you not gotten it yet?”

“Gotten what?”

“I’ll explain it simply for you ok? I, a older woman whose been through divorce, know what I want. Now you, a younger woman who still has so much to learn, have not been through divorce. But, I, the older woman, am going to keep you for as long as you let me. You’re my good girl, and no matter what, you always will have this place to be home.”

Tears pricked you eyes. Nobody has ever done such a thing for you. Even if she was right, you didn’t know what you wanted. But you wanted her. You wanted a future with her.

You kissed her hard with emotion. Soon hugging her and burrying your head into her neck. “Thank you Melly.”

“Of course, angel. Now eat before your food gets cold.” She detangled you from her.

Both if you smiled at each other. You knew you were in love with this woman, it’s just a matter of time.

[awkward-walking-potato]

Hi, I saw you were taking requests for Deadpool and I thought it be super funny if he met a reader who could keep up with him (weird inappropriate comments/ humor/ pop culture references) minus the 4th wall breaks ofc.

If this isn't up your alley feel free to ignore this, ty 🖤

Killing Me Softly

I hope you enjoy ☺️

The warehouse was dark, damp, and perfect for an old-school showdown. Deadpool swaggered in, humming the theme from Mission: Impossible, pistols twirling in his hands like a kid who found his mom's nunchucks and figured out that laundry day was a myth. He scanned the shadows for his target, the very high-profile CEO of a very high-profile company that no one cared about. His orders were clear: terminate with extreme prejudice. Or, at the very least, with a strong dislike.

But instead of the balding businessman cowering behind a crate, he found something else. Or rather, someone else.

“Hey there, Red,” a voice purred from behind a stack of crates. A woman stepped out, dressed in sleek black leather, her eyes sparkling with mischief. Her outfit screamed "I'm here to kick ass," but the smirk on her lips whispered "and maybe take names if I feel like it."

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Catwoman’s cooler cousin,” Deadpool quipped, cocking his head to the side. “Let me guess: you’re here to pick up my leftovers? Sorry, but I don’t share my Happy Meals, even if they come with a toy.”

She laughed, a sound that danced between sultry and psychotic. “Sorry, Red, but I’ve got dibs on the target tonight. And if you don’t step aside, I might have to take you out instead.”

Deadpool’s mask crinkled as he grinned beneath it. “Oh, I’m shaking in my combat boots. Really. You sure you can handle this much Deadpool? I’m like Taco Bell at 2 a.m.—a lot to digest and with a real kick on the way out.”

She twirled a knife between her fingers, eyes narrowing. “I’ve handled worse. Besides, aren’t you a little old for the whole ‘merc with a mouth’ shtick? I thought the red was just to hide the gray hairs.”

“Ouch, right in the ego!” Deadpool clutched his chest dramatically, stumbling back a step. “But baby, this mouth is still as fresh as morning breath after a night of garlic bread and Netflix. And this face? Well, it’s why I wear the mask. Wouldn’t want you falling for me too hard before we even have our first death match.”

She raised an eyebrow. “First? Honey, I’m aiming to make it our last. Unless you’re into that whole ‘till death do us part’ thing. You strike me as the clingy type.”

Deadpool shrugged, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Only when it comes to chimichangas and Hugh Jackman’s biceps. But let’s get one thing straight—I’m not the guy who buys flowers after the first fight. I’m the guy who leaves you a ‘sorry I tried to kill you’ card. Hallmark doesn’t make those, but they should.”

She rolled her eyes, finally lunging forward with the grace of a panther. Deadpool sidestepped her attack, spinning around to face her as she whipped a leg toward his head. He ducked, blocking her next punch with his forearm.

“Nice moves. Did you learn those in a ballet class, or are you just naturally graceful?” he teased, grabbing her wrist and twisting it just enough to throw her off balance.

She flipped over his arm, landing on her feet like a cat. “Funny, I was just about to ask if you got your fighting style from an old Jackie Chan movie, or if you’re just winging it.”

“Why choose?” Deadpool replied, spinning on his heel to deliver a roundhouse kick. She blocked it, the impact reverberating up his leg, but she didn’t flinch.

Their dance continued, the sound of their clashes filling the warehouse. Each strike was met with a quip, each dodge with a flirtatious grin. It was like foreplay with more bruises and less wine.

“Hey, how about we call a truce?” Deadpool suggested as he caught her wrist again, their faces inches apart. “You, me, a bottle of tequila, and some nachos? We can watch Die Hard and argue about whether it’s a Christmas movie. Spoiler: it totally is.”

She smirked, twisting out of his grip and pressing a knife to his throat. “Tempting, but I think I’ll take my chances finishing you off first. Though I do have to admit, you’ve got a way with words. Ever consider a career in romance novels?”

Deadpool froze, then slowly raised his hands in surrender. “Well, this took a turn. But, since I’m a gentleman and all, I should warn you—if you’re gonna slice my throat, be prepared for a lot of red. And not the romantic kind. More like ‘OMG, what did we do to the rug’ kind.”

She leaned in closer, her breath warm against his cheek. “Noted. But how about we skip the throat slitting and go straight to dessert? I’m more of a ‘death by chocolate’ kind of girl.”

Deadpool blinked. “Are you… are you flirting with me? Because I gotta say, it’s working. But I’m contractually obligated to kill your boss, so…”

“Contractually obligated to kick your ass,” she countered, though the knife hadn’t moved an inch.

“Touché.” He slowly lowered his hands, his fingers brushing against her wrist, almost gently. “Tell you what, you let me finish my job, I’ll give you a head start on your next gig. Maybe even throw in some pointers—how to out-Deadpool the Deadpool. Could be fun.”

She tilted her head, considering it. “And here I thought you weren’t the sharing type.”

“I’m a man of mystery. Keeps things spicy. Besides,” he added, winking under his mask, “I wouldn’t mind having a nemesis who can keep up with my banter. Makes the whole killing-each-other thing way more interesting.”

She chuckled, finally lowering the knife. “Deal. But don’t expect me to go easy on you next time, Red.”

Deadpool stepped back, giving her a mock bow. “Wouldn’t dream of it, darling. Until we meet again—same time, different corpse?”

She sheathed her knife and backed away, her gaze lingering on him for a moment longer than necessary. “Looking forward to it. Don’t miss me too much, Deadpool.”

As she disappeared into the shadows, Deadpool couldn’t help but grin to himself. “Oh, I definitely won’t. But I might just send a postcard.”

He turned toward his original target, whistling as he went. “Now, where were we? Ah, right. Extreme prejudice…”

The end. (Or is it?)

[writings-ofthe-heart]

(Mizu, BES)/(Reader)

- prompt: "Always give them the first bite of food."

Cw: None

Info: Reader is fem sorry, may be ooc, i tried. I love my woman so much this is self indulgent and motivated by my day one <3

Mizu walked. Like always, being followed by Ringo and his sister. You were quiet, but agreeable. Mizu only allowed you to follow because Ringo didn't want to leave you alone with your father. The sky weaned and the sun began to fall. Purple and black scattered to the East. Nightfall would arrive soon, Mizu thought absently. Her body ws always tense, ready to pounce on enemies, but her mind? Tranquile. Calm, it seemed like the soft, unmoving ocean.

You were only taken in by Ringo after being left on the noodleshops doorsteps. A cliche backstory, but what could you do? Growing up with Ringo was the best outcome of your childhood. Because of him, you had a certain joy within your aura. Despite the lack of speaking, socializing you did normally, you had good spirit. You were good.

The group set up camp. A fire was lit, courtesy of Ringo and you just looked around for sticks. A silence spread throughout the wintery forest. Mizu sliced the air, releasing an audible sound of her precision. You had stumbled across her, coming face to face when she cut down a tree with ease. You yelped.

"What are you doing here?" She grumbled. You shrugged, softly quipping, "Collecting sticks. What do you want to eat tonight?"

Mizu wondered why you even asked, "..." She rolled her shoulders, narrowing icy eyes behind her lens at you. "Anything is fine."

"Well, okay." You turned to walk away.

An hour after, you were all sitting around the fire as the pot simmered. You stood, grabbing small wooden bowls and scooping the soup into it. There were only two so you gave Ringo one and was about to hand the second bowl to Mizu when her hand stopped it.

"Drink some first. I can eat when you're done."

Confused as you were, you nodded slowly and sipped it. After half the soup was gone you refilled and slid it to Mizu who had dozen off, or at least that's what it looked like. She ate, and eventually you and Ringo fell asleep.

But this didn't just happen once. Another trip to Mihonoseki proved to be a habit of hers.

She broke a rice cake piece before even touching it and shoved it in your hand. Walking idly, you were startled and paused looking down at the crumbled, small piece of dry rice cake. Immediately you swallowed it, to be frank you weren't even hungry but, oh well.

Ringo knew something was weird with Mizu and his sister. First, he didn't pay mind because Mizu is just... odd in general. Not until the third instance where, Mizu not only offered, but refused to eat until you had taken a piece or a bite, did he start thinking more about it. His sister was pretty, he didn't try to disagree but you were oblivious to say the least, unable to see what's in front of you.

Mizu calmly set her chopsticks down. "Try it, I'm sure it's good but I can't risk being poisoned."

Another silly excuse, Ringo rolled his eyes digging into his own bowl of soba noodles. You sighed, dragging Mizu's bowl in front of you and slurping one, exactly one noodle.

"Tastes good to me, now eat! It's almost closed." You tried to hurry her. She seemed unfazed as now and only now Mizu began to eat the soba.

Ringo made an excuse to pull you outside while Mizu finished, (it was incredibly obvious and clumsy.)

"Hey. You must have noticed something weird with Mizu now right?" He holds you by your shoulders.

You purse your lips, "Um..? No.. If you mean her in general, well, I think that's just how she is."

Ringo exhales harshly. The cold wind making itself known in your ears. "No, her habit. Habit of making you eat her food first? Making sure "it tastes good?" Habit of randomly offering you her very first bite? Anything ring bells in your little head?" He grew more frustrated, practically shaking you.

You held up your hands, admitting defeat. "I thought it was just me!"

"You know, it seems oddly intimate for a person like Mizu." He noted. "You don't think..." Ringo gasped, loudly. Mizu appeared outside, her sword clinked as she looked around wildly for danger.

She furrowed her brows at you both, "Excuse me." Mizu walked back into the noodle shop.

"Mizu likes you." Ringo breathlessly, excitedly, exclaimed.

"What?!"

[yisony07]

Wood in Half

Based on a story plot by @adonismask. Thanks to @greenface94 for the masked pics.

“Are you ready to go?” Nate asked somewhat eagerly from the door.

Emilio pulled out his left earphone. “Yep, I’m all set!” 

He grabbed his wallet and phone and headed toward the front door. Nate was waiting for him. Emilio and Nate have been friends since high school when they were paired up for biology. Nate had always been the more athletic of the two. He didn’t play any sports but he went to the gym often. Emilio, however, has been the shy one; he preferred staying at home and reading. They had always made an odd pair, but their differences made them better friends, somehow. After high school, they found an apartment to move into together. Nate found a job at a local mechanic, and Emilio studied at the college. 

“Let’s head out then,” Nate said. He has been pushing Emilio to get out of the house a bit more, so they have a weekly arrangement to go on an “adventure”. That was as far as the planning goes. Nate had casually referred to these as their “dates”. Emilio could only wish it were true. He has been in love with Nate for years but never wanted to tell him for fear of ruining their friendship. 

They locked up the apartment and headed down the stairs to street level. Once outside, Nate asked “Left or right?” Emilio looked down both ways. Both of them usually left to the right to get where they needed to go, so he really didn’t know what could be down the left path.

“Let's take the left today.” 

“Okay, we’re shaking things up a little. That’s more like it!” 

Emilio couldn’t help but roll his eyes. They walked down the street and caught up on work and studies. From time to time, they looked through the windows of stores, a pizzeria, a casual clothing store, an ice cream parlor... but nothing couldn’t grab their attention. 

“What about that?” Nate pointed to a costume store. 

Emilio sighed. He had never been one for dressing up. He never found a costume that fitted or looked good on him. He wasn't out of shape, but his body wasn't what you'd call "athletic”. Nate started pulling him towards the shop. 

“C’mon, it’ll be fun! We can try on all the costumes we want, and we won’t have to go out, so you’ll have no reason to be embarrassed.”  

Emilio couldn’t even think of a way to argue with his logic, so he reluctantly agreed.

 A bell rang as they entered the shop. Both Emilio and Nate were surprised to see how clean and modern the shop looked. They were expecting too many decorations and weird smells, but the place appeared to be a normal clothing store, aside from all the weird outfits on display, of course.

A shop attendant approached them with a warm smile. “Hello! How can I help you gentlemen today?” The woman asked.

Emilio involuntarily held his breath as his pupils constricted. He has never been that good in these kinds of situations. Nate cleared his throat and stepped forward to grab the attendant’s attention. 

“Hi, this is a really weird thing to be asking, but I’m trying to get my friend here to come out of his shell. Would it be right for us to try on a few costumes just for fun? We won’t be too annoying, I promise.” 

Emilio blushed as he subtly glared at Nate. The attendant looked at the two of them amused.

“It’s no trouble,” she said with a soft smile. “You would be surprised how often people do this. Just make sure to put everything back when you’re done.” 

“Of course,” Emilio said.

The guys decided to start with the silly hats and wigs first, before getting to the bigger costumes. They spent hours in the shop, trying on everything they could. They joked, they laughed, they did impressions and skits. Emilio couldn't help but blush occasionally, as he subtly peeked through the curtains when Nate was in the locker room. Nate sometimes did the same thing, but neither of them brought it up. 

It was only when the shop attendant told them the store was closing soon that they realized how late it was. They packed away the last things they wore and headed towards the exit.

“Wait,” Emilio said, stopping suddenly. “We have to at least buy something, it’s just polite.”

Nate agreed instantly. As they approached the counter, they looked around for something to get, but beyond funny costumes, they didn't see anything worth buying. The woman, who they learned was named Helen, saw them searching the shelves. 

“Is there anything I can help with?” 

“Hmm… We-we are just looking for… some kind of memento, you know? To… To remember the day,” Emilio told her with a stutter and avoided looking her in the eyes, although for a few seconds, he did.

Nate subtly nudged Emilio with his elbow and smiled at him, as if congratulating him on improving. Helen watched them intently as if she was thinking about something. Then, she smiled widely.

“Well, I have been observing you two all day, and I think I might have just the thing.” 

She brought out a box from behind the counter. When they opened it up, they found a wooden mask inside. Not the prettiest thing, but still pretty interesting. 

Helen witnessed their hesitance. “This one is a good option for friends," she said, emphasizing 'friends' with a perhaps suggestive tone, but one that Nate seemed to like. "It has a trick, see?” She banged the mask against the counter, and there was a cracking sound. The front and the back of the mask separated into two identical masks. “One for each of you.” 

Emilio thought that it was pretty cool. “So… What do you think?” He turned to Nate, but Nate was staring transfixed at the masks. 

Nate looked back at Emilio, he blushed and then slightly shook his head, as if to clear it.

“Yeah, I really think we should get them," he said slowly.

They paid Helen and said goodbye to her. On the way home, they stopped at a deli to get something for dinner. Nate seemed very fidgety as if he couldn't wait to get home. Emilio didn't know if he was imagining it, but on the way home he sometimes caught Nate's voice whispering his (Emilio's) name with a tenderness and anticipation that made the shy man's heart beat strong, with hope… However, Emilio played it down. It couldn't be like that because Nate was a lot braver to hide that kind of thing, right? Maybe one of those costumes was just a little itchy. 

They ate dinner at the kitchen counter, before deciding to call it a night. 

“Oh, here.” Nate handed one of the masks to Emilio. “I’m pretty tired, g‘night”. Then, Nate ran to his room and slammed the door behind him. 

He’s acting so weird, Emilio thought. He cleared up the kitchen before going to his room as well, with the mask in hand. 

After Nate shut the door, he leaned against it, breathing heavily. Finally, I’m alone. He couldn't shake the feeling he had since the costume shop. Since the moment when he laid his eyes on the masks, something had stirred in him. He knew that there was just one thing he must do.

He pulled the mask out from the bag. He held it in his hand, facing him. He stroked the side of the mask, feeling along the edge until he reached what would have been the jaw. The empty eye sockets seemed to look into his soul, and it looked like they were lighting up. He started feeling the face with his other hand, tracing the metal piece down the middle, until he reached his final destination: the mouth. 

He felt his dick stiffen in his jeans. It was decided, he had to do it. He tossed the mask onto his bed and started undressing. When he was completely naked, he jumped onto the bed and grabbed the mask in his hands. Keeping the face towards him, he lowered it until the mouth was in line with his throbbing penis. He brought the tip closer before finally shoving his dick into the mouth of the mask. 

Emilio closed the door to his room. As he started stripping for bed, he felt a strange pull. His sight landed on the mask. Could that be it? He wondered without looking away.

That sensation grew stronger. It was magnetic as if having the wood placed on his skin was his inevitable destiny. But believing it was just his imagination, Emilio shook his head, took off his clothes, then a shower, and tried to put on his pajamas. However, his gaze constantly fell on the mask.

But what is happening to me? He asked herself. He was breathing with difficulty, while his chest seemed to contract; his heart was beating fast, he was sweating coldly and he was moving his legs quickly unconsciously. I must… I must…

Then, before putting on the shirt, Emilio noticed a greenish glow fleetingly run across the surface of the mask. Without thinking twice, he threw the shirt aside, launched himself towards the mask, and put it on.

“Fuck…” he moaned as soon as he felt the wood. It seemed to exert a grip on the edges, like thin claws digging into the contours of his face.

But then…

“Hmmph…!!!” He moaned in a choked voice. He felt a somewhat stiff piece of meat invaded his mouth. Confusion filled him, for there was nothing there, and yet he licked it. It didn’t taste so clear, so he continued licking and sucking it, and after a while of excitement filling him and enjoying it, he couldn’t help but think it was a dick.

With that thought in mind, he increased his pace. Sometimes he felt the piece in his mouth go in and out more, and that excited him even more. Emilio couldn’t help but grab and massage his cock. He didn’t want it to end: he wanted to be like this for as long as possible.

Suddenly, Emilio felt a tug that took him to the floor. He didn’t know where he had to go but he did know that he had to walk. He wanted more, he wanted to go to the source…

Without even bothering to get up, Emilio walked down the hall on all fours. He continued sucking and sucking, leaving his mouth covered in saliva. Without knowing why, he went to Nate's room, and as soon as he arrived the door opened by itself, so he entered without hesitation.

It was in that place and at that moment that Emilio understood: he saw Nate in his bed, revealing his toned abdomen, his divine legs, and his strong arms. With his enviable hands, he moved the front half of the mask with the mouth hole around where his cock should be, which, given the space that Emilio felt it occupied inside him, must be enormous.

The halves must be together... Emilio thought, enthralled, sucking even more eagerly. Hearing Nate's moans made him hornier, demonstrated by the hardness of his cock as well.

“Fuck, Emilio…” Nate moaned, still with his eyes closed.

That gave Emilio the impulse to crawl to the bed. Then he climbed on top of it. Feeling the increasing weight, Nate opened his eyes, but the gasp that was about to escape his lips turned into a moan the moment Emilio reached for Nate's balls and pressed his head against the mask.

At that instant, the mask became one again and immediately began to extend tentacles that animatedly covered Emilio's head. Nate was in the ecstasy to try to stop it, and Emilio was too focused on Nate's cock to notice.

“I'm going to… cum…” Nate warned and, in a matter of seconds, he squirted a jet of cum directly into Emilio's mouth.

At that moment Emilio separated from Nate and the mask emitted a green glow that blinded both of them as Emilio's body fell to one side of Nate's.

When the light disappeared and Nate could see again, he stood up and saw his roommate beside him, who had long, loose hair and a green face, like a second layer of greedy skin, and a peculiar smile.

“What's the problem, babe?” He asked with a certain impudence and licked the remaining drops of cum from his face. “You don't think that was all, do you? Because my love for you is as hard and hot as we are right now.”

And, before Nate could answer, Emilio snapped his fingers. Then, Nate was magically pushed back onto the bed and received a passionate kiss from the green-headed man. With his heart racing and immersed in heat, the man reciprocated, and the couple kissed with passion that not only reflected their carnal desires, but the mutual feelings they had been harboring for a long time.

Then they separated and green-headed Emilio moved until he was on top of Nate, his ass aligned with Nate's salivating, big large cock. Emilio then took Nate's hand and placed it on his chest. Nate quickly removed his hand.

“It burns…” Nate said waving his hand as if that would cool his hand down faster.

“My heart burns with love for you,” Emilio replied with a smile and lowered his body until his hole was almost in contact with Nate's cock. “Let me make what's coming an explicit seal of our relationship, how about that?”

“I thought it was obvious,” Nate replied eagerly.

“Say no more, my love,” said Emilio and lowered his body until all of Nate's flesh was inside him, and began to vibrate as if it were a drill on automatic and Nate screamed with pleasure.

And the couple continued in the act, enjoying each other's bodies throughout the night and accompanied, for some strange reason, by cartoonish sounds that hid from the public the moans that were exhaled in the room.

It was uncertain how much time had passed, but Emilio still woke up tired, as if the hours of sleep had been in vain. His skin was the same as before, and his body the same as before. His head hurt a little and everything around him looked blurry. Emilio waited a few seconds until he could focus his vision.

He realized that he was in Nate's room, in his bed.

"Why...?" Emilio asked as he looked around, but he stopped when he noticed Nate's sleeping, naked body next to him. Between them, were the two pieces. The memories of what had happened occupied his mind at that moment, and in that long moment Emilio, blushing beyond belief, hid his face with his hands. Together... we are a couple... he thought, almost unable to believe his words.

His gaze fell again on his now boyfriend. Seeing him asleep like that caused a strange feeling in Emilio. Nate looked so pretty, so attractive...

Then the halves flashed fleetingly and Emilio remembered once again the preamble to the wild act that took place. A giggle left his lips as soon as he took the outer half of the mask and, remembering what his room... boyfriend had done, he inserted his cock into the hole in the mask that corresponded to the lips.

It feels so good... Emilio thought, moaning. It was as if an invisible mass was warmly embracing his meat provisionally, waiting for the real one. However, Nate was still snoring.

But then, Nate moved a little. The lower half of the mask was face down as if waiting for a face on it, and Nate's was temptingly close. But Nate didn't move any further… if only it were a centimeter...

With one of his hands, feigning innocence, Emilio touched Nate's upper shoulder a little. His movement brought Nate's face closer for a moment. The back half of the mask had taken advantage of this and jumped on its own to his head from his shoulder. Nate's body spasmed, but at first, he didn't wake up; but then Emilio increased the movements of his half and that's when he realized that his meat was inside Nate: it felt very warm, almost like a cozy home.

Nate moved his head from side to side several times, restless from the sudden invasion, before waking up with a moan. As soon as he sucked, he realized what was happening and, without waiting any longer, he moved towards Emilio and fused the masks once again. Immediately it hugged his head and Nate's body was transformed.

"This is the real deal!" said Masked Nate. "This feels amazing!!"

"Hey... I was doing the same thing, that's not fair," said Emilio pouting. Masked Nate couldn't help but laugh at the cuteness before giving her a lust-filled look.

"Don't worry..." Masked Nate said. "I'll make it up to you with a treat... What's next is going to be wild."

And they both had more than a second round.

[inkblot22]

Can You Keep A Little Secret? 2

Dreamworks films have no right having such good soundtracks. The whole time I wrote this I listened to this and this. The second one isn't a Dreamworks song, but Scary Bitches is such a good band and I want more people to know about them tbh. The first song also is not about me, as I am neither big nor chunky, but hey, who doesn't love someone who is big and chunky? I'm sure everyone can relate to that song as either the person singing or the person being sung to. Dividers made by @/cafekitsune.

Similarly to the last part, this fic is aimed at sort of anyone, but the reader's physical body has afab features. It's not really mentioned in this chapter, but it will come into serious play later.

TW for: lots of confusion, semi-shy reader, MORE creep behavior, a lot of introspection in this chapter, one (1) weird middle-aged man, reincarnation. These warnings will get worse, and this takes place when all characters are 18+.

Part 1 here!

Monday comes with the regular stress. You slept like a newborn and your new mom came over to congratulate you. She’s sweet, but her excitement was not contagious. If anything, it just stressed you out more. At least she made dinner when she came over. Always excellent when you don’t have to do that on your own. 

On Sunday, you make a night of getting ready for your doom tomorrow. Your agent sent you an email on Friday, including the shot location. 

Monday morning, you call up your new father, who apparently wakes up every morning at four to relax before he has to be productive, and he sends over Devin and a car to take you to the set. Devin, as it turns out, is an elderly man with cataracts and your father’s trusted chauffeur. You aren’t convinced as he takes turns way too hard, your cupcake-shaped backpack sliding on the back seat. When he drops you off, he hands you a hard candy and wishes you a good day before he takes off speeding. The candy looks like it’s older than you. You slip it in your pocket.

You imagine you’re lucky, since when you walk up to the tents, you don’t see Epel. You’re not ready for the rollercoaster of emotions he inspires in you. Instead is a group of three people around your age- college kids- and a grouchy-looking middle-aged man. You take a nervous seat on one of the nearby stools.

You were certain you’d been silent, but as soon as you’re settled, the whole groups’ heads snap to stare at you. A woman with ocean-green hair walks over and holds out her hand.

“My name isn’t important right now, ohmygod it’s so nice to meet you!” She squeals, shaking the everloving fuck out of your arm, “Oh, who am I kidding? My name is Belle!”

“Uh… nice to meet you, Belle?” You say, smiling awkwardly.

“Ahhh! You’re not mean at all! Those tabloids don’t know what they’re talking about. Who believes that greasy, gossipy shlock anyway, huh?” She talks a mile a minute.

Another woman with dark hair walks over, smiling somewhat awkwardly, “Belle, you’re scaring the poor thing. I’m Argon. Yes, like the gas. No, I don’t have IBS.”

You’re not sure why she decided to clarify that, but it’s not your problem. The third person and the middle-aged man stroll over. 

“I’m Starlo. You’ll be in these meaty paws today.” The middle aged man says. It’s not a pleasant introduction, and if anything, it makes you want to turn tail and run.

You nod along regardless, and the other man jabs out his hand, “Pepper.”

“It’s nice to meet all of you.” You say politely.

Belle drags you out of the stool and towards a trailer, the only one on the lot. She shoves you in and you feel the want to leave grow stronger.

She’s so bubbly. She talks fast and she talks with her hands, “This is you and Epel’s dressing room! I know it’s not ideal, so that’s why it’s got a divider. He’s a gentleman anyway, so it doesn’t matter, I’m sure. Starlo will be in shortly to do some makeup tests, and then once Epel gets here, we’ll go over the script and the visions we have, and then that’s all for today. I’m so excited to work with you guys. Oh! That’s right! We were gonna go to that traditional Scalding Sands place after we’re done here. I don’t have your contacts, but if you wanted to come along, that would be amazing. You seem so sweet.”

You’re legitimately unsure how to respond to any of that. She also seems very sweet, and you really don’t want to get stuck in a coffee shop with Epel afterwards. Unfortunately, as she was speaking, the devil himself showed up. You didn’t notice him at first, but you felt your skin crawl when he did. He's got his silky lavender hair pulled off of his shoulders in a little tail at the nape of his neck. You open your mouth to say that you’d love to get shawarma with this motley crew, but he beats you to it.

His pretty blue eyes never leave yours, “Oh, you’re just a peach for offering, but we’ve already got plans.”

Belle spins around to face him, screams, and swoons. You manage to stumble forward and catch her, and Epel’s smile drops as he slinks across the room, spins one of the crappy foldable chairs around, and plops himself into it, elegantly resting his ankle on his knee. For all of two minutes, he just stares at you as you lay Belle down, stuffing some fabrics under her feet, and fanning her face. 

When Belle comes to, his smile is back. She jumps to her feet and begins fawning over him, shaking his hand just as excitedly.

“Hi! I’m Belle! Oh, my god, you’re even prettier in person, and ooh, you smell so nice too.”

Epel laughs, but it doesn’t hit your ears right. Belle eats it up and you glance at the door. She’s got him distracted. It would be so easy just to leave, to feign an illness and walk to the nearest cornerstore so you could call a taxi or a rideshare.

You’re not lucky, though, as Starlo strolls in just as you’re about to go for the door, “Belle, what the hell are you doing? Argon and Pepper are waiting for you.”

She literally squeaks like a mouse and waves a quick goodbye. Starlo grabs you by the arm and deposits you in the other foldable metal chair, clearing his throat repeatedly as he pulls over a stool and drags out an industrial size makeup kit. 

The first makeup that he swatches both tingles and is way too light a color for your skin tone. You blink rapidly, unsure if you should say anything.

“You gonna get the same thing you always do?” Epel asks.

“What?” You turn your head to look at him.

He’s wearing a patient expression, but like always, it feels artificial. “From that bagel place.”

“Uh… I-I’m sorry?”

“I know you didn’t forget. I’m taking you to brunch after all this.”

“Uh… haha, yeah.” You don’t know what you always get from the bagel place.

Starlo daubs something else on your arm. It’s cold, but it looks really pretty on your skin.

The “you” that everyone has been expecting sounds like an outspoken, opinionated person who was consistently late or absent from various responsibilities, and if your new mom is anything to go by, neglecting their own health. You almost wish you had a bit more to go off so you could start acting like this you, but you’re not too keen on speaking your mind with people you don’t know. Your entire life has been hit with a cosmic “reset from most recent save” button, and if you dare to mention it to anyone, you’re in for a whole new set of problems.

Whatever Starlo just put on your arm burns. You yelp and jerk away, and he grabs your wrist. You think it’s instinctive, but his grip is nothing to sneeze at.

“What’s the matter?” Starlo asks.

“I- You’re crushing my wrist.” You mumble, “And I don’t know what that last one was, but it burned.”

“It burned?” He pulls out a bottle of the wrong shade of foundation and looks at it, “Huh. No wonder. Damn thing is expired.”

“Why are you even using that one?” Epel asks. Although his tone sounds innocent, the question is outright confrontational, “It’s way too dark.”

“Are you the makeup artist here, son?” Starlo shoots back.

“I usually do my own makeup. I know it’s not the same, but anyone with eyes can see that you’re going about your business the wrong way.”

You keep your lips sealed. What are you even supposed to say here? Other than that last product, he’s been fine. His hand on your wrist feels crushingly uncomfortable, of course, but he’s not doing any of this on purpose. You skimmed the script, but you’re not really sure what the story is about. It’s all of your jobs to try to make it come together, and if that means that you’re going to be wearing a foundation two shades too dark for you, then perhaps that’s what art is. As you were thinking, Starlo let go of your wrist in favor of getting in Epel’s face. 

“-no two-bit, fucking stuck up little prick like you is gonna tell me how to do my damn job. You understand?”

Epel is smiling sweetly even as the older man’s spittle is spraying him in the face. He stands up, and Starlo steps back, as though expecting Epel to start swinging. Instead, he walks over to you, grabs your hand ever so delicately. The contact makes your skin crawl as he yanks you to your feet.

“You should apologize before the two of us walk off set right now.” He said, still smiling.

You can’t just walk off set. You don’t think you can, at least. Your agent was so excited for the positive PR this would create, and this is genuinely not a big deal, “Wait-”

Starlo’s eyes narrow, and it hits you that maybe he sees what you see when you look at Epel. A two-faced creature masquerading as a man. You’ve seen one of his sides clearly, but you’re certain you haven’t seen all of the other one, even when he called you on Thursday. It’s like seeing someone standing at the end of a hallway with their back to you: the sight is enough to give you chills, but you aren’t able to see the knife that the person is holding in front of them. That sort of thing. You’re aware of the danger, but can���t comprehend the depth of it.

Despite all, Starlo acquiesces, showing his palms and shaking his head, “Yeah, I’m sorry. Doctor says I gotta work on my temper.”

“You do.” Epel responds flatly, releasing your hand and reclaiming his seat.

The rest of the test is short. Starlo is pretty competent, and he makes it quick and sweet.

That seems to be the theme for the rest of the day. Starlo remains in the trailer to dispose of a few expired things and note down what you had reactions to, while you and Epel meet up with Belle, Argon, and Pepper to talk about the short film.

It’s going to be a story of lovers, unfortunately, but you get to play the part of the dead one. The story goes that your and Epel’s characters came out here to camp, but you froze to death in the night. Epel returns to the campsite every year in your memory, and you return from the land of the dead in his. On the night shown in the film, you finally bump into each other, and through the emotional reunion, you spend one final night camping together.

Epel smiles and nods along with what the three film students say, all too eager to whisk you away as soon as the first shooting date is scheduled and you have an extra copy of the script in your sweaty hands. 

He drags you towards a very cute little compact car in candy apple red and opens the door for you. You don’t want to get in, but you also don’t want to call Devin. You take a seat and he closes the door. As you’re buckling up, he gets in the driver and starts the car, just sitting there for a second before he buckles and backs out of the lot, his arm on the back of your seat.

You look out the window and Epel grunts, his voice no longer sweet and charming and fake, “What the hell’s wrong with you?”

You turn your head sharply, “What?”

He sighs, drumming his fingers on the wheel as he blinks. You wonder if he’ll leave it at that until later, and then he says, “You’ve been acting real weird. You been talking to someone?”

“What are you talking about?”

He narrows his eyes in a glance at you, and then he swerves the car in a wrong turn. “I think you know. People don’t change overnight. Where were you that week no one could get ahold of you?”

“I was… in my apartment?”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment. You’re in the city by now, the sun reflecting off of the skyscrapers’ windows in an aggressive manner, “And over the course of that week you decided you didn’t like being a bitch no more?”

“I don’t-”

“Every time I saw you, for years, it was the same thing.” He turns again, going in a circle around the block, “Same shit. Every day. Making fun of my upbringing, like I didn’t know you barely had one, calling me everything out of my name, and now suddenly you’re…”

His voice trails off. You contemplate throwing the door on your side open and jumping out of the car. You absolutely do not need this. You’re already stressed out.

“Well… suppose I shouldn’t complain. I do like you better this way.” He mutters. “But way back when, when you pulled shit like this, it was because you were plotting something. That your game now? You-”

“I… I’m sorry for being so mean to you in the past.” You’re not apologizing for anything you did, but you’re grasping aimlessly trying to de-escalate this one-sided conversation. He’s driving. If you don’t do something, he could decide to swerve off the road and kill you both, “There was no reason for it.”

He’s silent for a moment, and then he says, “That… means a lot. I already forgave you. Told myself I wouldn’t quit trying to be friends. Guess it paid off, huh? I’m sorry for getting angry when we talked, Thursday before last.”

You don’t like that at all. It sort of feels like he’s not saying everything, like you should know what he’s talking about. You don’t. You weren’t living in this body Thursday before last. You nod and look out the window, “Uh… I appreciate it.”

You don’t actually care, but you’re a good actor. You’ve already decided that you’re going to just go along with Epel’s brunch and then you’re going to pretend he doesn’t exist outside of work. Frankly you’re unsure why the person who used to live in this body had his number or interacted with him for years, evidently.

Epel parks and you have a minor crisis as you try to figure out what you typically get from this bagel shop. It doesn’t matter anyway, since he orders you a large caramel iced coffee and a blueberry bagel with cream cheese. That’s such a basic order, but it’s simple enough to be good. You sit quietly and eat, not interested in making conversation.

Epel clears his throat. He’s quiet, but he’s talking in that schooled version of his voice again, “You ever hear back from that breeder?”

“Uh… the what?” You narrow your eyes.

Epel is leaning on his hand, a sweet little smile on his lips as he looks at you. Seven, you want him to look away, “The sphynx cats. You said you sent them an email a while ago during that meeting we had with Mirelle after our big public argument.”

“Oh. I haven’t checked.” You didn’t know you should have. You take a sip of the iced coffee and look out the window.

Epel hums and a stranger walks over, grinning, “Oh my goodness! It’s actually you! Can I have your autograph, Mr. Felmier?”

“Oh, just Epel is fine. Sure!” He’s all smiles as he interacts with the fan, but as soon as they’re gone, his face falls and he nudges your hand, “C’mon, I’ll walk you home.”

“O-oh, no, that’s alright-”

“You want to make another big scene?”

You force a smile and grab your iced coffee, following after Epel. He nudges your hand with his own, but you pull your hand away, covering it up with adjusting your clothes and holding your nearly empty coffee cup with both hands. Your hands are slick with more than just condensation.

You’re all too aware of your surroundings, especially the way that he somehow knows the key code to the door of your apartment building to get you in without a fob. You pause in the lobby.

“Thanks so much for walking me back, Epel. See you tomorrow.” You smile and turn to walk towards the stairs.

Epel grabs the back of your shirt and tugs you back a bit. You stumble against him and he frowns at you.

His expression should tug at your heartstrings, and yet… “You’re not gonna invite me up?”

This poses a dilemma. There are a few people watching this interaction. You can’t afford to make any type of scene, but you absolutely do not want to be alone with him. While you don’t know him well, your body does. Something also tells you that he’s a bit of a danger to be around in general. Call it a gut instinct.

“Uh… Well, maybe you could walk me to my door?” You have no intention of letting him in your apartment.

His eyes narrow ever so slightly, but he smiles regardless, and loops his hand through your sweaty one, strolling confidently towards the stairs.

About as soon as he lets go of your hand to ascend the stairs, you bolt up the stairs, your palms slapping against the dirty concrete to keep you from bashing your face. You’re glad you didn’t wear pumps today as you get to the third floor, careening down the hallway and fumbling your keys as you shakily unlock the door. You lock it behind you, slumping to the floor.

Tomorrow is gonna suck absolute ass for you.

[hearts4golbach]

The Night Shift.

Chapter 7.

Johnnie Guilbert x Fem!Reader.

I sat at the counter with my notebook and pen, scribbling down ideas for new recipes or drinks. My mind frequently wandered to johnnie, and it worried me. I couldn't get what Jake asked me out of my brain. did I like johnnie? I couldn't tell if what I was feeling was just having a really good friend or something more. I cringed at myself. I doodled on the side of my page, drawing hearts and stars until someone walked in.

"Hello, miss." the man said with a heavy southern accent. I suppressed a laugh, thinking about Jake.

"Hi, what can i get for you?"

"Let me get the peanut butter mocha, please. That'll be all." he sighed. I nodded in response. "You got a boyfriend?"

I furrowed my eyebrows. I'm sure he didn't mean it the way it sounded. I immediately thought about johnnie. "No, sir."

"Well, don't worry. once you find someone, you'll know." he had a crooked tooth grin.

"Oh, thank you." I smiled. it confused me where this came from. "Why do you say?"

"You learn to read how people feel when you have a bipolar wife." he snorted.

"Well, you were spot on."

a woman walked in behind him on her phone. she looked up and smiled at me. she was beautiful, even if she had a messy bun and no makeup. she seemed sweet.

"Listen, you seem like a nice girl. you've got looks on your side, too. I say go for it. I know I don't know your situation, but when you look back, you'll regret it."

I was getting a little more concerned each second. this was almost creepy. how could he be so right? I passed his coffee over the counter. "Thank you." I said genuinely.

he nodded, not saying a word as he walked out of the cafe.

"What was that about?" the girl asked, walking up to the counter.

"Apparently, he could sense how I was feeling. I've been overthinking about this guy I met, and he was spot on." I shrugged.

"so, when's he going to tell my fortune?" she joked, pulling out her wallet. "tell me about this guy."

"well, I met him a few days ago. I think he's really cute and we've had our... moments, I guess. i think I might be gaslighting myself into thinking I don't like him like that. I've never had a boyfriend, let alone a genuine crush." I rambled. "I genuinely do not know why I'm opening up to strangers."

"I mean, who knows if we'll ever cross paths again."

"still, I feel stupid." I shake my head. "anyway, what can I get for you?"

"can I just get an iced caramel coffee?" she asked with a sweet smile on her face.

I hum, turning around to make it. What a weird night, I'll probably end up rephrasing to tell johnnie later. we talked little after she asked.

"I hope you have a good night." I smiled softly as I handed her coffee over the counter.

"you too." she smiled back before walking out.

I sat back down and continued to try and write, but my mind frequently wandered back to johnnie. was he even coming tonight?

about an hour and a half later, the door bell rang. "Hey, y/n." Johnnie's tired voice called. I looked up, he carried his computer under one arm.

"johnnie, how bad is your sleep schedule?" I teased, "this is the 3rd night in a row you've come to see me. you must love my face to come here at like 2 am every night."

"what can I say? I get really bad nightmares and your face does in fact make me feel better."

my gaze softened as I smiled.

"do you mind if I hang out in here and edit a video?"

"I'd love that." my heart fluttered at Johnnie's presence.

I turned around to clean the counters as he chose the table closest to where I was. he lazily opened his computer and pulled up the needed footage.

I hummed quietly to what was playing in my headphone as I finished wiping everything down. I fixed myself a coffee and went to sit across from him.

"I had the weirdest fucking encounter today." I mentioned.

he looked up. "what happened?"

"This guy came in and told me that I seemed stressed over a guy and that I'll know if he's the right person and I shouldn't fight my feelings off." I blurted, not bothering to rephrase it.

he made eye contact with me again, curiosity glistening in his eyes. "so, like, a connection you can't explain? thats really poetic."

"yeah, it's scary cause he's right." I mumbled.

"well, if you think you've found that person, then go for it. life's too short to not." he looks back down at his laptop.

"what if I'm not sure if he likes me back?"

a twinge of hurt flashed in his eyes. he seemed to be scrounging for ways to respond. "well, what if he's just as unsure as you?" he asked knowingly.

I furrowed my eyebrows. "so should I really think on it?"

"you might be wasting time, but you never know. maybe waiting is a good decision." he avoided eye contact with me.

"are you good?"

"yeah." he trailed off, rubbing his arm.

silence filled the room for a good minute, I zoned out, staring into my coffee once more.

"have you ever felt that way?"

"felt like what?"

"when you like someone but you're terrified it'll ruin something good?" I pondered.

he looked up, his gaze softening. "yeah, the fear of losing someone so special even though nothing has happened yet?"

"yeah, exactly."

"well, I guess we have to take risks. step out of our comfort zone, you know?" he paused. "at least we could say we tried, right?"

"right." I whispered, awkward tension filled the room.

he cleared his throat. "when you know, you know."

[diluclover300]

Just One Week (7)

Gojo Satoru x Female Reader

also posted on my ao3 account: diluclover300

CHAPTER INDEX:

I H8 U

My Kinda Fun

Balance

{S] Awake

Eggs and Rice

Wait, but I'm broke

Couple's Discount

CHAPTER 7: Couple's Discount

...

Satoru is beyond ecstatic, his vision sticky and gooey at the insane amount of silks and wools carefully hung and displayed. There's a catalog of clothes, an array of expensive clothes. Top-tier luxury brands, ones you'd catch celebrities sporting like a pair of pajamas at the local airport. Ones that he can caress between the delicate friction of his fingers as a warm smile spreads across his face like butter on toast. Oh, how lucky he is. 

To reunite with his long-lost friend, whom he spent years tracking down, whom he was able to convince into allowing this moment to blossom into reality. He feels like a kid in a candy store, ogling at each piece of fabric, at each suit jacket and pant. And how tempting the sight is, how it tempts him to envelope himself in pure greed like a creature of sin. 

The assortment of colors, the breathtaking pigments, the unique textures of each cloth...

The excitement is so wonderful, so captivating that he doesn't even begin to notice the woman greeting him at the door. He takes off like a rocket ship, roaming around the men's section. A maze that he hasn't ventured in, yet one that feels familiar and natural to navigate through pure instinct. 

This must be heaven. 

"I think he, uh... I'm so sorry if he causes trouble." You half-groan, head threatening to hang low at Gojo's energetic aura. "Thank you."

The woman nods, a typical response that you'd expect from someone working customer service. You've been in that position before, squeezing out an exhausted smile at something you had no idea how to respond to. Funny enough, your cheeks sting from the muscle memory. 

You think to apologize once more, but you refrain, biting your tongue as you dejectedly follow after Gojo. He buries his head in a ring of hung-up clothes, swiping through each shirt like a potential match on Tinder. 

"Oh? Do you frequent here often?" 

You turn back, confusion overcoming your face. 

"No, I've never been, actually." You slowly shake your head, examining the woman for a moment. "Why?"

That low bun of hers wrapped in a red scarf, and that sleek, white uniform doesn't ring a bell. Does she know you?   

"Oh, sorry, it's just that your jacket... I couldn't help but notice that it is from our brand." 

"Oh," You smile, the interaction as awkward as awkward gets. "That's weird, I never noticed." 

You walk away with an understanding nod, fumbling with your lips as you fidget with the black jacket lying in the crook of your arm. Now that you think about it, it does feel like silk, expensive silk at that. 

Maybe your memories have faded over the years. It's possible that you snagged this from another one of those annual holiday sales, sort of a bad habit you've accumulated. You always browsed for coats and blazers when no one was around to watch, hunching over that compact cubicle as you frantically refreshed your search engine. Occasionally, when someone would walk past or start conversation, you almost let out a guilty flinch out of fear for getting caught. Almost. 

Nonetheless, the suggestion doesn't strike you. There's not a single instance where you, the loyal slave to some measly corporation, could justify the selfish purchase of a fancy coat. A coat was a coat, no matter the price. It would have torn up in that monster of a washing machine you own either. Not to mention the void and guilt that would stem from such an unnecessary purchase.

"Is that my jacket?" Weird. You don't expect it, but you recall the events from this morning. The skeptical look on his rather punchable face. 

Your fingers trace over the sewn-in label, mumbling the brand to yourself. Even that leaves a pretentious, bitter taste on your tongue.

Nope, it doesn't ring a bell. 

You suppose it's French, and to be honest, you don't have an opinion on the French. There are far more significant matters, at least in your opinion, than some species of European folk. Why would you spend your precious paycheck on such a useless thing?

Everything tells you, everything desperately grasps you by the shoulders and shakes you to your senses. And then you finally uncover the answer as to whether or not you "frequented" such a snobby, stuck-up place. 

"I must be remembering things wrong.." Yeah, remembering things wrong, my ass, you think. 

He lied. Oh dear, you really tried to give him the benefit of the doubt.

And that certain white-haired culprit is currently nowhere to be seen. Quite frankly, you have no idea where you are either. You've lost yourself in the garden of consumerism, swarmed by the amount of clothes and designer bags laying in front of you. A landfill for the rich, you call it. 

But it's peaceful for a bit as it is overwhelming. You're oddly calm when you take in the privilege of Gojo's absence, as if a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. A heavy one at that. 

Five years was, and is too short, much too measly of a distance. If you had it your way, if the Earth rotated to the drumming of your feet, then you would have never known the words "Gojo Satoru". His face would have been an imaginative blur, those eyes nothing but a mere gaze, and those memories would become one of the infinite "what-ifs" of this universe.

And if you ran into him on a fateful spring day? 

You would have abandoned destiny a long time ago, parted ways like ex-lovers. The occurrence would leave you as you were.

Still, steady, and normal. 

These three values would have stuck with you, through thick and thin. But which one was it? You don't know what to call this incident. Was this the thick? Or was this the thin?

You wonder, mull over it for a bit before you're chained back into the prison of his presence. It's a game of push and pull.

This punishment of a game. 

"Yo! Over here, Y/N." You look up from the leather jacket folded on the display shelf below you, eyes hooked onto that raised hand of his. 

You seem to be on the receiving end, on both sides of that hellish spectrum. 

"Okay." You make your way over to "here", that sigh of yours halted. You have something to ask him anyways, something about that jacket of his. 

His hand is still held up high in the air while the rest of his body entangled in a rack of clothes. Stupid is as stupid does. 

His and Hers, You regrettably read and fully understand the sign hanging overhead from the ceiling, along with the bolded words: NEW Spring Collection.

"Did you find something?" You only ask as a precaution, monitoring his spending habits. An awful habit that solely relied on you and you only for support. 

That hand of his flails around before sinking down into the sea of clothes before him. 

"You're here?" His hands scour and fish into the abyss, voice muffled into the ridiculous amount of suits and dresses stuffed in his face. "I'm surprised-"

A groan follows, the sound of plastic material ringing against his skull. A sound that you would have ignored because it seamlessly blended into the rapid snare of the radio-pop tune playing on the store's speakers.  You could have paid it zero mind if not for the sheer amount of second-hand embarrassment that ensued from your witness of the scene. 

"Careful there," You sneer, watching as his back contorts like a gymnast. "The higher-ups wouldn't want you to come back a complete moron."

Satoru chuckles, scrambling once more before putting an end to his short-lived visit to Narnia. 

"I'm thankful for the concern." There's an array of clothes folded over his arm, and oh, does the sight worry. "Please continue to take great care of me, Y/N."

You give him a strange look, your lips curling in disgust. By no means were you concerned about him, worried about this bafoon of a man. 

"You're dumb." It's a conclusion you should have come to earlier, really.

"Remind me," Satoru's gaze trails off into the air before landing on you. "Who was the one that lost to me last night?" 

You're stumped, mouth opening before it shuts again. That unlucky "who" was you, the loser.

Gojo takes your defeat as an opening, a chance. 

"Wanna try this on?" A dress is shoved into your face, along with that cheeky smile of his that peeks behind the cloth. 

Your attention darts from Gojo to the pink, girlish dress. 

The long-sleeves are puffed just by the slightest bit, and the material a bit translucent until you notice that there (thankfully) is a white cloth underneath to keep yourself covered. Your eyesight was just playing tricks on you. Okay, a bit of decency, you appreciate it. However, you think the skirt is just a little too short, but the sweetheart neckline does look kind of gorgeous, you'll admit. 

"Whaddya think?" He reveals more of that hidden smile of his behind the blinding cloth, along with his now enlarged starry eyes. You don't take that as a good sign, it's more of warning. "Hm?"

Emotionally, you don't exactly feel inclined to wear it, nor does the idea entice you. Logically, you can't and don't want to afford a dress you could easily get for way cheaper on the internet. Besides, you'd rather focus on controlling the inevitable loss of your sweet, hard-earned cash if possible. And with the sleek look of the fabric, along with the carefully stitched in details - the item is nothing but a pure fantasy. 

You intend to keep it that way. 

"No-"

Again. 

Again, again, and again! Satoru groans out of pure annoyance. You're using that word again. That boring word, the word which cages him in like a helpless bird, the word which is so draining, so terribly cruel, absolutely inhumane. 

No. 

How he resents the very existence, the very creation of that word. That word which rolls of your tongue without an ounce of hesitation. 

"No?" Satoru interrupts, raising a brow before yanking off his glasses. 

"Um.." 

When you look into those eyes laced with the pure malice of the devil, your flesh tenses. Your muscles contract, a reaction not one of muscle memory, but one of cold-blooded fear. 

"I, um..." Think, think, think! You can't seem to put two and two together no matter how much your brain tells you to. 

When his eyes release a frosty residue into the air, when you watch the air melt against him, you lose your resolve. Stripped of it, left with the stubbornness lying underneath.  

Telling Gojo Satoru "yes" - you'd rather lie cold in your grave. 

"Is it still a no?" 

No doubt about it, Satoru notices. Your stubbornness surprisingly (as if he hasn't calculated this reaction) clashes with his want. 

Without a single word, you begrudgingly snatch the dress out of his loose grasp, eyes searching around for the dressing room as you turn on your heel, slumping with each step like a deflated skydancer. 

"To your left." Satoru directs, burying the self-conceited excitement down his throat. "You're welcome."

Patience is a virtue, he repeats to himself, over and over as you disappear behind the racks of clothes in front of him. 

...

You don't want to. 

Oh, you really can't stand the look of it because the feeling this dress evokes in you is criminal. The definition of bi-polar, heck, even multi-polar as the fabric drapes around you.

A part of you, the mature side of you, loathes the sight. You feel girlish, frail, and overly-feminine, like a total joke of a woman. You gaze upon the mirror and shy from it, covering your eyes before you peek through your fingers out of pure embarrassment. 

You were well-into your twenties at this point, a young age, but still... weren't you a little too old for this? You can't help but feel that way. With those bags underneath your eyes you look like a princess fresh out of a zombie apocalypse, not some cute, innocent-looking chick. Maybe you look a little fucked-up, honestly. Completely out of place. 

Oh, whatever. You lightly squeeze and pick at the skirt, tracing the pleated lines. 

There's another part of you as well, and you suppose it's your immature side. The side that pokes through your doubts like a roses' thorn. 

It's pretty. You feel kind of special, like an actual princess or some kind of tacky, knock-off Barbie doll. Fluffing your hair, a pit forms in the bottom-left of your stomach, plague pooling up inside of you. 

Envy, desire, selfishness begin to settle in. And to think that you strayed, parted ways with these three "friends" years ago. Only now do they make their grand reappearance. 

So this is what it's like to be normal, isn't it? You ask yourself, only to receive no answer. Surely, this is what it's like to have the world at your fingertips, to have all your wants and desires served to you in silver platter, right? 

You should be jumping up and down right now, squealing like a damn schoolgirl at the idea that you were living out a childhood fantasy of yours.

"It's nice," You mumble, almost as if you're trying to convince yourself to agree. The words don't stick as well as you hoped. 

You're jealous, almost angry you've never got to experience something so trivial, so materialistic. Jujutsu training took up more than half of your youth and those high-school memories you so deeply craved only remained a simple dream. A selfish goal you could never achieve no matter which plan or path you took to get there. The consequences of your choices would always haunt you, and you suppose this is one of those instances when you see the faintest image of a little girl. A little girl with a pair of eyes all too similar, with a nose much like yours, with lips of the same nature. 

You want to scream when your chest compresses against itself, eyes stinging and reddening. 

How tormenting, you would have never imagined your reflection to be one of a burden as your fingers still against the fabric of that dress, lips rolling over each other as a ship sinks to the very bottom of your stomach's oceans. 

You remember. You remember it all too well, those years in elementary school. One question stuck with you in particular. 

"What do you want to be when you grow up?"

To first-grade you, that was a simple, easy question. So you churned out an answer with very little thought. 

"I want to be happy! Like... forever?"

Hah. Simple. 

You think, no, you thought that such a simple, inoffensive wish would allow your life to show you a bit of grace, a bit of fulfillment. You were wrong, damn it, you were so wrong that you let out a choked, cowardly sniffle. The little you wouldn't even want to see you face, she'd rather die than accept her reality-

"Yoo-hoo. It's been ten minutes, you done yet?" 

You flinch at his voice, blinking profusely as you touch up your watering eyes. Being sad was one thing, but you were not going to cry around Gojo Satoru. Never. 

"Hello-"

You swing the door open, feeling your eyelashes water before you speak. The sound of your voice is stupid as all can be, but what could you do? You were just crying to yourself like the main character in some cheaply-produced Disney movie. 

"Hi." You frown, crossing your arms as you feel the wind blow against your bare legs. You don't even want to look at him right now. Why? He's not scary. 

It's a silence so thick that follows, so thick that you can't even take in proper breaths from the air that lies between the two of you. 

Gojo Satoru stares, and you hate it. You hate that equally thick stare lying behind those glasses of his, seriously. You want to hide away, crawl into a hole when he hums like that, sucking in his lips as he examines you like a zoo animal. You're going ballistic and all you can do is stand there with your arms crossed as a defense. It's insulting because you're aware of how ridiculous the thing looks on you. Insulting because he makes it so obvious that you look like a little girl playing dress-up.

"What?" You say, tone flat. "Why are you looking at me like that?"  

Oops. He swallows, guilty as charged when he stiffly rubs his neck. Satoru feels like a perv, the memories of that night flooding into the dam of his mind.

No, you're a friend.

Just a friend.

Only a beloved childhood friend of his, so there's no reason that these troublesome fireworks should be going off, bouncing off the barriers of his skin. 

"Like what?" He looks away, hands stuffed in his pocket as he occupies his mind with the displays surrounding him. "I wasn't doing a single thing except looking at the dress." 

Your lips tremble, and you feel dumb. Super dumb. Maybe it's those leftover feelings from earlier that begin to explode out of you, little by little. You can't seem to stop it, and it's killing you as your armor cracks. 

"Is it that bad?" Your voice cracks, and he begins to panic as if he wasn't a nervous wreck before. "Be honest." 

"What? Of course it isn't-"

"Stop lying." You let out, eyes burning up into ashes as they redden like cherries. "I mean it."

"Why would I lie? You- you look pretty." Damn it. He's let the cat out of the bag, fingers covering his lips before he decides to just accept his terrible fate. 

No, that wasn't- that wasn't what you wanted to hear. You toy with the flesh in your mouth, the skin of your forehead scrunching and bunching up. 

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no... You shouldn't be mad at him, he was just looking at the dress, he wasn't judging you, you just made him call you pretty. Wait, you're pretty? 

You ignore that, your skin crawls at the compliment. You hate it, you hate him, everything about him. 

Your eyes are - Ugh. What are you doing? 

"Well, it was just because... because.." You stammer, fiddling with the syllables of your words as the image of that particular black jacket appears in your mind.

"Because?" Satoru questions, taking in a deep breath. He feels strange when your eyes swell up like that, so strange that he can't put it into words even if he tried. 

"Are you crying?" He doesn't know if he should ask, and he's especially scared of sounding like a total asshole. What if the tears just poured out when he asked? But, it felt too wrong, so wrong to just watch you fume up like this without adressing the elephant in the room-- the warm beads flooding the crevices of your eyes. 

"You lied." You use the knuckles of your fingers to pat at the corners of your eyes, breathing in a shaky breath as you do, chest slowly rising. "Why did you-"

Okay, he could understand you were beyond frustrated, but falsely accusing him of lying. Oh, he couldn't stand it, even if it was you pointing fingers at him. Even if it was his dear, beloved friend. 

"When did I-"

"Hello, I just couldn't help but notice that dress on you, ma'am. It looks wonderful."

You turn around, looking like a deer in headlights at the saleswoman who probably watched that whole shit-show with front-row seats. Gojo, on the other hand, takes in a sharp breath, rubbing his cheek before acknowledging the fact that they were in public, fighting in public, like a-

"Oh? Are you two a couple? We actually have a His and Her deal going on until the end of this month. Would you be interested?" It's the same woman he accidentally ignored, the same woman who unknowingly directed you to Gojo's lie. She's back, this time to upsell you on products you really don't need and can't afford. You thought you had formed some kind of alliance, but alas, she was just doing her job. Unfortunately, you were her target. 

Now this, this was the reason for his visit in the first place. There was no way he was going to leave without purchasing color-coordinated outfits, the same ones he's been anticipating the release of since the beginning of winter. Usually, he'd be the type to despise such a release, one that didn't serve him any purpose, but because of you, and solely because of you he was...

"Yes. We're interested-"

"No-" You protest, the tears drying up against the dry of your eyes. 

"We are interested." He grits his teeth at you, pulling you in closer to his side, saving face with a smile as his arm wraps around your uneven shoulders. "There's a matching suit for this dress, right? I saw it in the catalog." 

"I-" You try to refuse, but they've already beat you to it. What was this? Your unlucky day? 

You've been having a lot of those recently. And this day is no different when his arm sticks you to him like glue, feeling the outline of his body against your hip. You shudder, skin crawling once more at the mutual warmth. His fingers press against the fabric of your shoulder, giving you a light squeeze and pat. You might as well bark and get on all fours like his dog at this point, that was how you felt. Like Gojo Satoru's pet, always at his service. 

The woman gives him an eager nod, "I'll get the sets out for you two. Please give me a moment." 

Your eyes shoot up at him, and it's an angry look, no doubt. First, your vision traces his fingers that hold you, then at the knowing smile on his face. He knows you hate it, and he's just going to continue this torture of his until he's satisfied. You didn't even have to go through another cycle of defiance only to cower at his Six Eyes. Like a dog, you've been trained into obedience, without a single treat in your bowl or stomach. 

In other words, you're at a loss. Advantage-wise, speech-wise, physically-speaking, emotionally-speaking... all of it.

Even though you eye him with such venom when that neutral expression looks back down at you, those beads still linger. You don't know what to make of your own conflict anymore, having a difficult time as the ground fills your line of vision. 

"Hey, why did you tell her that?" You whisper-hiss, as if those words were meant to be kept a hidden secret. "Now she thinks we're a couple..."

There they are, Satoru takes notes of those tides as his arm slips from your shoulders. They're clashing, the gritty sand soaking those waves dry. 

"Are you okay?" Did he have the right to ask such a question? To show an ounce of his care? Was he allowed to?

"It was for the discount." Is what comes out instead as he widens the small gap between the both of you. Ironically, this much more appropriate response leaves him questioning his own intentions. "Why? Does it bother you?" 

No, it shouldn't bother you. It doesn't. 

"You ass..." You mutter, hoping that somehow a miracle occurs. One so miraculous that his memories of your vulnerability erase.

However, such miracles never seem to hit you - they miss by a large shot.

"I hate you."

Or maybe they do as Gojo just nods. At least this once as you break contact with him, a comfortable silence settling in. 

"The feeling's mutual, don't worry." 

Satoru doesn't want to test the validity his words.

"You lied." 

That isn't so far off from the truth. 

...

"How is it?"

Your reflection is disappointing. The colors that swallow you are lackluster, they trap you. 

"I don't like it." What outfit was this again? You lost track. 

"Oh, that's too bad. Does it fit?" Satoru crosses his legs, resting in a fancy, maroon velvet armchair. 

"...Yes." You answer, rubbing your arm. You're losing. 

"What was that?" He tips his glasses on the bridge of his nose. "Sorry, I just can't hear you." 

As if. 

"It fits." You speak up, tone numb as you tell him what he wants to hear. 

"Good." 

This, unfortunately, has been the norm of your conversations for the past two hours. Gojo would pick out an outfit from the spring catalog, force  ask you to try it on, then he'd ask for your optimistic opinions which he held zero regard for whatsoever before buying or trashing it. 

"Excuse me," He holds up a hand before pointing at you. You blink at this, dread filling you whole. "She'll take this one as well." 

You did not say that, but you must be remembering things wrong. 

The saleswoman nods. "Of course, sir."

She moves to pack up a fresh set, but quickly presses onto her own breaks when he opens his mouth to command speak once more. Poor thing, you can't help but feel your own foot ache at the amount of times she's had to deal with this. 

"Also, I want all the accessories."

"A-all?" She raises both eyebrows, masking her shock with a boxy smile. "Are you-"

"I'm sure." Satoru nods, finally looking at the woman. 

"Yes, sir. I'll get started on that right away." She scurries off with such urgency that you'd think she was held at gunpoint. 

Your lips flubber as you exhale, taking in your reflection. Today has weirdly been all about you, in the worst way imaginable. You can't seem to catch a break with the absurd amount of haughty-designer outfits thrown onto you. This one in particular was your least favorite. 

A blue shirt, reminiscent of those soul-sucking Six Eyes, short-sleeved with a slight puff in the shoulders, adorned with buttons of a similar shade. Though it is soft to the touch, it's more than unbelievable to you that this costs around three-hundred yen. The white lace skirt draped all the way down your ankles is no cheaper either, but a couple hundred yen was like child's play for the rich. Another regular day, nothing new. 

Furthermore, Gojo hasn't tried on a single thing. He just assumes he'll like his side of the outfit based on yours, a total gamble of your money.

"Is there anything else...?" You decide to follow routine, but of course, it doesn't work when you finally accept your fate. 

"Nah, you can go change now." He rolls his shoulders back before getting back on his feet, the chair as empty as he found it. "I'll be waiting outside, yeah?"

You carefully nod, studying his sudden change in demeanor as he whistles to himself, that stern expression wiped off the surface of his face. Now that was bipolar. 

"Okay." You'd hate to send him into another frenzy of playing dress-up with a doll that was more than unwilling because you would also like to move on from whatever this was. 

One piece after another, as if you're being timed, you strip down your clothes only to re-dress yourself in your original (work) clothes. Oh, how you long for that nine-to-five lifestyle, how you miss being stuck in that stiff office chair. Today taught you that being rich and ambitious was not for the weak, that you, the weak, suited the likes of a corporate, forty-hour work week. Not this pretend fantasy, this mere illusion. 

Right now, you'd do anything to escape this hell-hole of a place and that demon of man. 

"Oh," Your hands reach for your jacket- sorry, his jacket.

"You lied."

You forgot to prove your point, the evident truth that Gojo Satoru was a liar.

...

You can't believe it. Not a single bit. 

"For the last time, and I say this with all due respect, but your items have already been paid for, ma'am." The bald man at the counter sighs, holding a receipt before you. 

You cautiously scan the very long paper, fingers grabbing it's very end as your eyes widen at the total.   

"But... but-"

You profusely rub your eyes, blinking over and over. You might as well go into cardiac arrest at the seven bolded digits, grasping the thin receipt between your shaky fingers. 

"Correct," His voice cuts through your multiple stammers.  "You didn't pay, your boyfriend did, ma'am."

B-boyfriend? Gojo Satoru? That man? 

"He didn't, and he's not my-" You don't even get the chance to make your case clear. 

"The signature is at the very bottom." 

You stuff your face into the very butt of the paper, eyes flickering between the signature line and the uncanny smiley face drawn on top it. What an eyesore.

How in the world did he pay? You chew onto the flakes of your lips, releasing a deep breath from the very depths of your lungs. You were under the impression that Gojo came here with absolutely nothing but himself. And the flowers. You almost forgot those flowers, and you accidentally remember how ugly and spacious they look sitting on the counter of your kitchen island. 

"Ah, I... I see now, sorry." You let out an involuntary laugh, shoving the receipt down your pocket. "I'm sorry for taking up your time, let me just-" 

You grunt, looping one bag onto your arm after another, the worker behind the counter blankly staring as you visibly struggle. Jeez. Were you the one working customer service or was he? 

"Have- Have a nice rest of your day." Somehow you manage to carry all six bags, three on your left and three on your right as you head towards salvation. Which was better known as the exit of this damn place. 

"You too, ma'am."

Thanks, you mouth to yourself. 

You have a feeling the rest of your day will be anything but nice. 

...

[helplesslypurple77]

Day 5 Atsushi/Dazai w/ forced Proximity(stuck in a closet)

Notes: shut up ik that i already used a closet in the Fyodor one, but in this one the closet is more heavily featured, so there. Slowly but surely “Kinktober” has turned into “AtsushiFuckTober”. Maybe I should do that next year too.

Atsushi was grateful to Dazai, he owed the man his comfortable life, and that was a debt he would never be able to pay.

“Um Mr. Nakajima, please come this way.” A soft, feminine voice at his side, and Dazai was missing again.

He idolized the man of course, and recently, new feelings had been popping up, but for the love of god, he wished the man would quit trying to throw himself into every single body of water they came across. Be it a sink, or a bathtub, as soon as he spotted it, Osamu Dazai would make a break for the water, shouting gleefully about suicide, and Atsushi was rapidly loosing the little amounts of patience he had left.

It didn't help that their companion, a pretty woman by the name of Akari, who had graciously volunteered to lead them to their destination, had to also deal with the fallout. She smiled patiently, even as Atsushi dragged Dazai away from a fucking bathtub, for the hundreth time this evening.

He didnt know what was happening, and why Dazai had suddenly doubled his suicide efforts, and in the middle of a mission of gods sake, but as he dragged Dazai away from the barrely filled bathtub and down the carpeted hall, he bemouned his circumstances.

“I apologize, Miss Akari. He usually isn't this bad.” Miss Akari had to be an angel in disguise, because she just laughed a little, and gripped his arm leading him down the hallway. Dazai trailed behind them, rattling off suicide facts.

“At~su~shiiii~” Atsushi wonders if Dazai has been eating poisonous mushrooms again. “What, Dazai?”

Dazai giggles as they make their way down the chandelier lit hallway. “Did you know that on average, 1 person dies by suicide every 11 minutes in the US?”

“Dazai, we live in Japan.” Dazai ignores him, opening his arms dramatically, his bandages catching the light. “Oh how I long for the sweet embrace of death, how I crave the kiss of the underworld king, summoning me to my final embrace…”

Its weird actually, given how pretty Miss Akari was, Atsushi would have expected at least one invitation for double suicide, or at least a bad pickup line, but nothing, the whole night. It was strange, but Atsushi is just glad he doesn't have to apologize to Miss Akari for anything other than minor inconveniences. Dazai is talking again, but Atsushi tunes him out, instead focusing on the beautiful scenery surrounding them. They walk down a long hallway, lined with gold framed portraits of families. Crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling, and the floor is carpeted in red velvet. The entire place screams money. Atsushi supposes that makes sense, their target is a very rich man after all.

Miss Akari is still clutching his arm, her gloved hands shaking slightly. She's very pretty, with long black hair and big, doe eyes with long lashes, dressed prettily in a pink dress with white gloves. And, given how she's just Dazai’s type, Atsushi seriously would have expected an invitation for double suicide.

‘Your skin is lily white, your eyes captivatingly beautiful, your long dark hair reminds me of the night sky, you would make me a happy man if you joined me on a double suicide.’ or something like that.

And then Atsushi would have to apologize to the poor woman, and she would probably run away screaming, and their mission would be ruined—

“Mr. Nakajima?” Atsushi startled, and sent her a small smile of apology. She continued, her voice as soft as a spring breeze. “I was just wondering about you. I hear you work for the Armed Detective Agency?” It's odd that she's asking about him, but Atsushi guesses she's just curious. He smiles, ignoring Dazai yet again. “Yes, as well as the bandaged idiot behind me.” She laughs, the sound like bells. Atsushi wonders yet again about the strange absence of double suicide invitations. “That must be hard work. You really are amazing!” She pressed close to him, her body pressed against his side, her hands still clutching his arm. She must be scared. Atsushi tries his best to send her a reassuring smile.

“It's not too hard, I'm lucky that I get to work with such amazing people.” She lets out a little giggle, her eyelashes fluttering as she looks up at him. “So, what's your ability? I'm sure it's amazing.” Atsushi laughs a little, she really is a kind person. “It's called Beast Beneath the Moonlight. I can transform into a giant white tiger.” She giggles again, clutching his arm. “Wow you're so strong, I feel so reassured now that i'm next to you.”

Atsushi is glad she feels safe, but then the suspicious lack of loud Dazai noises gets to him and he turns, and of course, Dazai is gone. He turns again, Miss Akari still on his arm. “I'm sorry, I have to find my colleague. Could you wait here for a minute?” She nods, her eyelashes fluttering again and Atsushi sends her a grateful smile. “Thanks, you're an angel.” When he leaves, he sees her leaning against the wall, her hands over her cheeks, smiling.

When he finds Dazai around the corner, once again trying to drown himself in a bathtub, Atsushi lets out a long, suffering sigh. “Dazai, that bathtub has no water in it.”

“Alas, i am simply imagining what it would feel like, the sweet embrace of the water—”

When Atsushi drags him back, Miss Akari is still waiting, like the patient person she is. Atsushi smiles at her as she takes his arm again, clutching it tightly as they walk through the gilded corridors, looking for their target. The faint sounds of music and laughter echo from upstairs, the occasional clink of glassware and silverware barely heard under the cacophony of noise downstairs. It's a dinner party, a family reuniting for a will reading and Atsushi can hear the arguments all the way up here. Miss Akari, a daughter of the dead woman, had requested they come, because she suspected someone would break in and attempt to kill the family, while they were all in one place. The family was an old money family with dealings with the port mafia, and Atsushi had asked why they didn't help but Akari had informed him that they didn't do that sort of thing. It made sense, he supposed.

Right now, they're supposed to be patrolling the upper hallways while the family ate, because Miss Akari was sure the person wouldn't strike until after dinner, when the family gathered for the will reading. She had informed them that she would rather not let the others know, because in her words; ‘there was sure to be a riot!’. And so, they were sneaking around the upper floors of a rich person's house(scratch that, it was basically a castle, Atsushi had never seen so much wealth in his life.) Dodging the occasional stray family member had been easy, but they were becoming more and more frequent as the night went on, the partygoers tiring of the endless arguments and retreating upstairs to the many different entertainment rooms.

“Atsushi?” Miss Akari is speaking again, pulling him out of his brain and back to reality. She leans up, whispering in his ear. She smells faintly of rose petals. “I think someone in my family might be responsible for moms death.” Atsushi feels this isn't something she should tell just anyone, even if she feels they are trustworthy, but he nods along with her anyway.

“You think so?”

☘ ☘ ☘

Miss Akari is the most suspiciously suspicious person Dazai has ever met. I mean it's obvious. Why else would she be hanging off Atsushi like that, stealing Dazai’s rightfully deserved attention. The wench. She was obviously an enemy spy or something like that, hellbent on pulling Atsushi to the dark side! Dazai scowled as they walked down the hall. They were obviously leaving him out like this, whispering and flirting like that, and right in front of his salad(I'm sorry). How dare that Harlot, steal his Atsushi from him.

Dazai scoffed. She wasn't even that pretty. Ok, maybe he was being a tad dramatic. Miss Akari was actually very pretty. She had long straight black hair and dark black eyes, and she was clothed prettily in a nice sunday dress and small kitten heels. And honestly a long time ago she would have been Dazai’s type, but recently he had found himself into people less like Miss Akari, and more like Atsushi. Or rather, he had discovered he was in love with Atsushi.

It was embarrassing and dumb and humiliating and entirely too hard to deny, and if he was being truthful, he was just jealous of that wench. Jealous that Atsushi would let her hang all over him like that. Probably smashing her plentiful bosom and ladylike charms all against him and stealing him from right under Dazai’s nose. And it was highly unlikely she was an enemy spy, she was just an admittedly kind and pretty young woman who was interested in Atsushi, and Dazai hated her for it. There were times, times when his darker days came back to haunt him, times when he got unhealthy ideas like keeping Atsushi locked away, for if he was locked away only Dazai could have the privilege to gaze upon his form. But most of all he wanted Atsushi to be happy, and no one would be happy caged like a decorative bird.

And so, he simply stood back and allowed that Harlot to hang all over Atsushi. But of course, not without the occasional ploy to steal his attention back. But alas, it had seemed Atsushi had tired of his antics, and Dazai had been threatened, in no uncertain terms, to be left behind with the old ladies. And so, he had to be content with watching. For once he was thankful for Atsushi’s dense personality, because although it had screwed him over, it had also screwed everyone else who had approached him too.

Dazai’s love for his subordinate had snuck up on him like a tiger hunting its prey, and then jumped him from behind and completely overwhelmed him. It was even beginning to overtake his desire for a double suicide, wich was a terifying thought. It had been a slow, but steady process but subconsciously he knew he was doomed from the moment he met Atsushi. When he had first opened his eyes, soaking wet on the riverbank, he was sure he had succeeded in his suicidal endevors. For why else would there be an angel hovering above him, highlighted by the setting sun.

Their relationship had been a series of devastating blows delivered under the sunset. For it had been sunset when they had first met, and Dazai had found out that Atsushi was not, in fact, an angel, but a poor orphan boy. He was sure Oda was laughing at him from behind the grave, when he took him in, purely with hidden selfish reasons. Reasons he himself didn't even see when he did it.

The second sunset, on the way back from Ranpo’s case with Atsushi. He had refused to admit he got himself caught in the net to be in Atsushi’s proximity. He had justified it with ‘i just want to watch his progress, and kunikida wont let me,’ but it was obvious to an older and wiser Dazai that he just wanted to be around him. It was embarrassing, but all Dazai could feel was the heat of his body, the close proximity, only a few measly inches between their shoulders. He had longed, subconsciously as he prattle on, to pull the boy close, maybe wind an arm around his thin shoulders.

The third sunset, the one that graced them as they sat on that parkbench, on the day Atsushi figured out the orphanage headmaster had died. And although Dazai had appeared calm and rational, like he always pretended, the mere mention of the man's death had filled him with glee. The extent of the abuse he had subjected Atsushi two filled him with an indescribable amount of rage, that he had always chalked up to protectiveness as a friend. It was apparent that it was not, that the extent of the protectiveness he felt was far and beyond. That was the second sunset, and perhaps maybe the tipping point.

But the third sunset, the sunset on the ship after the defeat of the guild, was the breaking point. As he had nonshalontly raised a glass, and as Atsushi had smiled at him, his eyes mirroring the color of the sunset, his heart had stopped. And then it had resumed, beating triple time against his chest, threatening to leap out completely. He had been overwhelmed by how beautiful the boy across from him was and how desperately Dazai wanted to embrace him, to hold his thin frame close and press kisses to his lips and he had just stopped functioning for a moment.

And that was when he knew, that he was well and truly gone, that he was unequivocally, irreversibly, deeply and truly in love. And then, he had kind of accepted his fate. It was obvious that the affection Atsushi held for him was purely platonic, and even if he had other feelings the boy himself was unaware of them, at least for now. And truly, the boy was terribly, annoying, incredibly dense. Even outright flirting was just brushed off with a laugh and an eye roll, and any physical affection(aside from outright just kissing him) was just attributed to platonic feelings, and Dazai had been about three second from pulling all his hair out and jumping out a second story window, so he essentially gave up. Not completely, he just bided his time and would have to make do with fantasies and daydreams, until the day he decided to take a leap of faith.

But, this harlot was testing his last nerve. She was far too conventionally attractive and although Atsushi didn't seem to notice how hard she was flirting, Dazai was sure that at some point she would give up on subtlety and just ask him out. And then Atsuhsi would blush adorably and accept and then they would start going out and it would be all suffocatingly cute and cuddly and then one day they would get married and Atsushi would of course ask Dazai to be the best man and Dazai’s heart would break into tiny little pieces but he would do it because he would do anything for Atsushi and then they would have little kids who looked like Atsushi and Dazai would grow old alone and sad and have to watch their happily ever after—

“…zai. Dazai. Earth to Dazai!” Dazai pulls himself out of his depressing fantasies and back to reality with a jolt. Atsushi is standing in front of him, noticeably missing the evil harlot Miss Akari, his hands on his hips. Dazai almost skips to meet him, grabbing his arm as they make their way down the hallway. “So, where did Miss Akari go?”

“She had to entertain her guests, remember?” Atsushi regrettably pulls away from Dazai, crossing his arm and coming to a stop. “Really Dazai, she's a really nice woman. You should pay attention to her.” Dazai really will throw himself out a second story window. Watch him, he’ll actually do it, just watch. “Do you like her or something?” He sounds like a middle school boy. Embarrassing. Atsushi smiles. “Yes actually.” Dazai’s heart drops into the pit of his stomach. The boy continues to drive knives into his poor heart. “She’s a very kind woman. And she’s very pretty too. I was sure you would have invited her to do a double suicide with you by now.”

If it were, perhaps, a few months earlier, Dazai definitely would have. But now he’s down bad for his subordinate, who apparently ‘loves’ Miss Akari. He forces a smile, almost choking on actual tears. Embarrassing. “So, when's the wedding?” Atsushi just looks confused. “Wedding?” Dazai might actually cry. “Yeah, Wedding. She’s obviously into you and if you love her back you might as well just get married then.” Atsushi blushes pretty, his pale cheeks turning a dark pink. Dazai wishes he were the cause of that. “What are you talking about! I don't like her like that, I thought you meant if i thought she was nice.” Dazai’s tears are suddenly gone, done choking up his throat and clogging his stomach. “And she’s not into me anyway. People usually aren't ‘into me’.”

‘Me!’ Dazai wants to scream. ‘I'm into you and you are worth it and I want to kiss you please let me kiss you please—’ but he holds it in. He doesn't, however, hold in his gleeful smile. Atsushi gives him a baleful glare. “You could have been nicer to her, and did you really have to try to throw yourself into any bathtub–, no, anything that holds water?” Mood restored, Dazai swings his arms by his side. “Really Atsushi. You’ll never understand the joys of suicide.”

And the rest of the evening is going just wonderfully, it's all just wonderful and sunshine and rainbows really until suddenly Atsushi is grabbing his collar and he's being yanked backward and shoved not so nicely into a closet. Really, he's about to complain, but Atsushi makes an adorable little shushing noise and crowds inside as well, and Dazai hears the sound of footsteps and conversation. And he remembers the only part of the conversation he had listened to, where Miss Akari had told them she didn't want the rest of the family to know she had invited agents. And really, he should be concentrating on what the people walking by the small closet they're in are talking about but the only thing he can concentrate on is Atsushi’s proximity.

It's a small closet, made for sheets and towels, and the lack of space forced Atsushi to press in tight, his back shoving Dazai against the wall. Dazai’s senses are asaulted by the clean scent of green tea and cheap soap and the heat radiating from Atsushi’s back and Dazai is simultaniasly cursing and praising whatever fucked up god got him into this position because his pretty subordinate is pressed against him and all his fantasies are coming back to haunt him.

Atsushi is shorter than him, about two or three inches, and his frame is smaller. Dazai’s body almost cages him in, even with his arms pinned to his sides in what little space they have, and it's frighteningly arousing. Dazai’s nose is shoved in his hair, Atsushi’s back lines up with his chest and most damning of all, his but presses directly on Dazai’s dick. People are walking by the room, and Dazai knows it definitely isn't the time to get hard, so he puts all impure thoughts to the back of his mind for now.

Really, he should take advantage of this opportunity, and he does. He wraps his arms around Atsushi’s frame pulling him closer even still, and allowing himself to hug the boy their warmth blending together. And it feels wonderful and comforting and like all is right in the world, until Atsushi squirms, grinding his ass back directly on Dazai’s clothed dick. Dazai’s hands drop like a hot stone, shooting to his side as he tries to separate himself from Atsushi, to no avail. Because now all those times he had arrived after a fight to see Atsushi laying face down on the ground, his cute little ass on display for Dazai(and the world). And he didn't know why the boy insisted on landing in this position every chance he got, but it was truly a strange(sexy) position. For every time he did that all Dazai could think about was that position in a different context, maybe something with one hundred percent less clothes and it was all coming back to haunt him.

For some reason the people outside the closet have insisted on talking like three feet away from the closet doors, and not moving and now Dazai knew his dick was at least semi hard and he was never going to recover from this one—

“Dazai?” Atsushi has turned around to whisper, and now it's almost worse because their faces are a two measly inches away from each other, breaths tangling together and Atsushi’s eyes are breathtakingly beautiful. “Dazai, do you have something in your pocket, its poking against me.” Oh now this is just lovely. He's taking to long to respond and Atsushi’s going to get suspicious. “Yes actually. A gun.” Atsushi rolls his eyes. “It's not a gun, that's not what a gun feels like.” Fuck. “Jesus Dazai, what is it? Is it something your not supposed to have?” He’s still whispering, but now he looks slightly panicked. “Did you bring a random knife or prescription pills on missions again? You know Kunikida’s going to kill you.” This conversation should be killing him hard on but it's still there, and harder than ever. Dazai hates himself.

His lack of response seems to be worrying Atsushi because now, to his horror, Dazai feels his hand trying to get in between their bodies. He grabs it, trying to hold him away from his overeager dick. Atsushi frowns, whisper yelling at him. “Dazai, lemme see it!”

“Don't worry about it, Atsushi!” This, obviously, does not deter him.

“Now I'm even more worried!”

As much as he would like Atsushi’s hands all over his dick, he really would prefer different circumstances and so he thoughtlessly grabs the boy's wrist, pinning them above his head. It's almost worse this way. Their faces are close together, breaths intermingling again, and to Dazai’s satisfaction, he sees the blush spreading across Atsushi’s cheeks. It's visible even in the dark closet as the boy evades his eyes, blush furious across his pale skin. Dazai can't resist the urge to tease him.

“My Atsushi, what’s got you so flustered?” The boy glares, all while that cute little blush is still plastered across his face. “Shut up Dazai.” And so, Dazai seels his lips with a kiss.

...

End Notes: I always headcanoned that Atsushi is oblivious to flirting because of his low self esteem lol. A pretty girl could be hanging off his arm, telling him how amazing he is and stuff and he would go ‘haha lol she's so kind.’ or ‘haha lol she must be scared.’ also i'm tired of writing full smut so here you go, half smut

Taglist: @mulit05ho3st4n

[sparklypinkflightsuit]

The Witching Hour: Chapter 1

Pairing: Detective!Bob Floyd x Reader

WitchAU - Based on Practical Magic

This series is a Sequel to Blessed Be and I wouldn't recommend reading alone!

Warnings: Smut, Angst, Fluff, Witchcraft, Cheating, Mentions of Death, Alcohol, I think that's it?

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“Hi, I know this is going to sound weird but… do I know you? I saw you through the window, and couldn’t shake the feeling we’ve met before. I’m… I’m Bob, Bob Floyd.” He stuck his hands in his back pockets awkwardly.

You smiled at him, “I don’t think we have, I’m (Y/N) but you can call me Bree, like-“

“Sabrina the Teenage Witch.” He nodded, chuckling. “Yeah, I feel like I knew that already.”

You were taken aback by how the handsome man who stood in front of you already knew the reason behind your nickname.

Had someone on the island already spoken to him and pointed him towards your store?

You chuckled nervously, something about this Bob made you unable to stand still.

“Are… are you after anything in particular?” You asked politely, growing red under his piercing blue gaze.

He cleared his throat and walked over to the shelf you stood in front of.

“Oh uhm… I’m not sure exactly, what would you recommend?” He grinned his crooked grin and he stood next to you

The heat that radiated off of him tingled your skin, and you glanced up at him for a moment. Your mom and Carla had noticed the energy shift and had slunk back into the storage room awkwardly.

“Well our customers seem to really like this, it’s an aphrodisiac. You put some in your drink and whoever you’re… you know…” you trailed off awkwardly. You’d never had an issue selling your products before, but this man was making you sweat. You tugged at your collar in a futile attempt to breathe.

“You okay?” Bob noticed, turning to face you. You were so close to him you could smell his cologne, citrusy and oaky, and you could see the small smattering of freckles across his tanned face.

Before you could answer, the door flew open and the bell jingled violently. In stepped a tall, very dark haired, unfairly beautiful woman, clearly impatient.

“Bobby can you hurry up please? It’s hot in the car and you said you’d only be a second.” She whined, fanning herself down as she glanced around your small store with a look of disdain, her eyes finally landing on you.

“Yeah, sorry.” Bob mumbled, “It was nice to meet you Bree. I’ll come back another time when I have longer to browse.” He said lowly to you, shooting you a sweet smile before he left the store reluctantly with the woman.

You were left breathless in his aftermath, he felt so familiar yet you couldn’t place it. He was clearly not from the island, you’d recognise him if he were, but had he perhaps been here before? You weren’t sure.

The rest of the day flew by in a blur, and at the end of it you and your mom left and said goodbye to Carla as she locked up.

Instead of driving home, your mom drove towards the harbour.

“Where are we going?” You laughed, but you knew full well.

“I'm not in the mood to cook tonight, thought we could eat at Jo’s Fishery for a change.” She murmured as she drove.

But it wasn't a rare occurrence, you ate out more than you ate in.

You shrugged, you’d never turn down an opportunity to eat out, especially if your mom was paying.

You walked into Jo’s Fishery, a quaint harbourside restaurant that overlooked the waters edge, a beautiful view of the big cliffs, a small winding path leading from the far end of the shore up around the cliffside, to a little ledge you loved to frequent.

The waitress sat you down at your favourite table.

“Thanks Marjory.” You mom sighed as she climbed into the booth.

You both browsed the menu for a while.

“Ohh, they have a new seafood pasta.” You hummed, “I think I’ll go for that, what do you think?” You asked absentmindedly as you skimmed through the other options.

Your iced tea arrived and Marjorie lingered over the table for a moment.

“Honey do you know that man?” She asked suddenly.

Your head shot up and you turned to face the direction she was looking, “He hasn’t stopped making googly eyes at you since you walked in.” Her hands now on her hips as she looked over at him disapprovingly.

“Oh!” You said in surprise, a small curious smile forming on your lips, “That’s Bob. We met earlier, he’s nice, I wouldn’t give him a hard time Marj.” you nodded. Bob blushed and grinned at you across the room, he sat alone.

You waved at him and shot him a friendly smile back, just as the woman he was with in the store came out of the bathroom. You quickly turned back to the table awkwardly.

You ordered your meals and as soon as Marjorie left, your mother gave you a disapproving look.

“What?” You asked cautiously, your face growing hot.

“You better not get involved with a taken man, Bree, you know that’ll only end in disaster.” She warned.

“I’m not. We spoke once, mom. It’s no big deal.”

“That’s not what it looked like in the store.”

You sighed, “Just leave it please? Im not gonna do anything. He’s probably gonna be gone in a few days anyway.”

You were suddenly filled with inexplicable dread, you didn’t want him to leave.

You shook the thought away and changed the subject quickly. You spoke about your sisters and their travels while you waited for your food, and you planned on visiting the aunts in France as you ate, the entire time a burning sensation on the back on your neck alongside goosebumps were prevalent.

By the time you paid and got up to leave, Bob had gone.

Your mother drove up the long winding road to your big white house on the cliffs edge, the drive silent as your mind drifted elsewhere.

“Bree?” You were suddenly pulled from your daydream, your mother already having climbed out of the car, waiting for you.

“Sorry, was miles away.” You mumbled, climbing out of the vehicle.

“Are you okay honey? You seem a little off.”

“I’m fine, probably feeling a little sluggish from all the pasta.” You lied. “I’m gonna go and have a shower and then hit the hay, love you.”

You hugged your mom and bolted up the stairs, eager to get away from her suspicious eyes. Your mom always knew when you were lying, only this time you had no idea why you were.

You turned on the shower and stood under the hot stream of water, hoping the heat would wash away your still lingering goosebumps. It didn’t do much good other than giving you a moment to breathe and think. This morning you’d woken up feeling totally normal, just another day, and then your world was spun on its axis the moment Bob Floyd walked through the door.

You thought about his crooked smile and the bluest eyes you’d ever seen, how his eyes crinkled when he laughed and how your heart thudded painfully hard against your chest every time you thought about him.

You were convinced you were coming down with something, this wasn’t normal.

Climbing out of the shower, now red hot with steam billowing off of your skin, goosebumps still somehow there, you walked to the bedroom window with your towel wrapped around you and threw open your big window. The cool air a welcomed feeling as you breathed in the crisp saltiness of the crashing waves at the bottom of the cliff below.

You sighed as you sat on the windowsill and stared out at the moonlight reflecting against the sea below, warping and changing its bright face against the inky water.

Something was pulling you, begging you to get dressed and go down to your favourite ledge, the one your dad would always take you to as a kid, the best picnic spot, but you shook the feeling away as best as you could, closing the window and climbing into your favourite oversized t-shirt and pyjama shorts.

You hadn’t been in bed long before the urge to walk out of the house, down the long winding road into town, and around the cliffside to your to the ledge was gnawing at you so badly that you had no choice but to slip on your sneakers and quietly patter down the stairs.

You opened the front door slowly, stopping every time it uttered a horrible squeak. Your mother would surely think you were a nutcase if she caught you and you weren’t in the mood to explain why you were dashing out in the middle of the night in your pyjamas. You muttered a quick silencing spell which muffled the squeak, and slid out the door as quietly as you could. As soon as you had reached the end of the drive your legs inadvertently sped up until you were jogging towards town.

You loved how beautifully lit up the town looked at night, little windows illuminated by soft lights, people just getting on with their lives, completely unfocused on the gripes of the outside world, it felt peaceful.

You jogged and jogged until you reached the harbour, the narrow winding path coming into view under the street lamp lights along the docks.

You slowed to a walk and panted as you fought to get the oxygen back to your starved lungs. You climbed the winding path and the pull became ever stronger the closer you got to your ledge.

It was dark now that the lamplight disappeared behind you, nothing but the moon guiding your feet along the narrow path, but you weren’t phased, you just needed to get there.

Your goosebumps grew stronger, annoyingly so, and you rubbed at your bare arms in a desperate attempt to subdue them. When you reached the ledge, you suddenly felt disappointed.

It was empty.

You walked over to the small clearing and sat down, your legs thanking you. As you stared out over the water, still trying to steady your breathing, you thought about your dad and what he'd say about all of this.

"Take a chance Pumpkin, I did and it was the best decision I ever made." his voice bounced around in your head. You missed him so much, especially at times like this.

You loved your mom, but given what she'd been through, she could be a little quick to offer her opinion, and you couldn't help but think she'd judge you if she could read your mind. Your dad on the other hand had been the one you could tell anything to, he was your best friend.

"I could really use one of our chats right about now, dad." You whispered out to the sea.

"Bree?" a voice called out from the dark, and for a split second you thought somehow your dad was communicating with you from beyond the grave.

You turned to face the direction the voice had come from, and in the dim moonlight you saw a familiar face, but it wasn't your dads.

"Bob?"

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-- Chapter 2 Here --

I will be taking slightly longer writing chapters for this series as life has become a smidge busy, but I promise to still be as regular as possible <3

I don't have a Taglist for this series but will be updating my Masterlist as I go!

[goatpaste]

Does valentine also changes in your au like scarlet? Does he do the same bad actions to Lucy like in canon or does hot pants fight him and save Lucy similar to when she prevented scarlet from doing things to Lucy like in your au?

so ye no, iv gutted that part out as well. FV is just evil as a campy ass nationalistic president. He was fine with being over the top cartoon American president evil he didnt need the layer of being a rapist and pedophile to lucy

I think most of that initial Tublar Bell shit goes about the same, Lucy sneaking into FV room to find the corpse part, disguising herself as Scarlet, putting FV to sleep, and then getting caught by Tubular Bells.

And while iv removed Scarlet being a creep to Lucy, I still like the idea of her being a crazy ride or die motherfucker for her powerful president husband. So between Scarlet realizing whats going on and Tubular Bell attack, Hot Pants jumps to the rescue for Lucy

But at the end of the fight, when its time to run and HP is faced with the choice to get Lucy out of there, or leave the corpse parts behind. Its the first good choice Hot Pants has made in a very long time, the first unselfish choice. She Saves Lucy and leave the corpse parts behind taking only her spine part (and unknowing to either Lucy or Hot Pants, the heart of the corpse that she got when Mountain Tim died)

From here on out, Lucy is traveling with Hot Pants and Diego. In my mind the rewrite leads to them falling into enemies different (and as well as me inserting another stand user or two of my own hehe)

One of the Bigger changes for them, is that it is Diego, Hot Pants and Lucy who run into Civil War fight instead of Johnny and Gyro. as well as editing the stand from just things you've through away but regrets and fears your holding on to.

Iv envisioned this scene where Lucy has either been told to wait outside or been set into a 'safe spot' by hot pants as their trying to track down a stand user. Diego and HP have both split up to search the building, until Hot pants feels a weird sensation, its getting harder to breath. She falls to the ground gasping for air, and looks to relize whats happening. her brother is attached to her, her greatest regret the source of her guilt is hanging onto her. Looking into the broken mirror shards still stood loosely in its frame in front of her, she swears her reflection is that of the bear who ate her brother looking back at her.

She needs to find Diego, this stand attack is taking the things you've thrown away, the things that weigh you down and make you scared. And if theres anyone who never feels remorse for anything he's done, it would be Diego Brando.

However she crawls to find him in a back room on the floor shaking and blubbering, he looks wet like he's been drowning and she's tightly gripped in his hands is an old dirty blue dress of a woman. Diego is crying for his mother and cannot move.

They think to call Lucy for help with her Stand Tiny Butterfly, but she's too far from them to make it. They cant keep running to this kid, they have to face this themselves.