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kleftiko · 1 year ago

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❦ CHERRY SMOKE CLOUDS

“upon learning that your new plug is a virgin, you come up with a new way to pay for your weed”

cw: slight dubcon (sex under the influence), virginity loss (choso), car sex, corruption kink, unprotected sex, blowjobs

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

You met Choso through your little sister's friend.

Without knowing Megumi and Yuji were over, you started ranting to Nobara about how your plug was moving across the country, and it was a travesty. When she gave you edibles, she packed them in cute little heart baggies, and you were never gonna find another one as good as her.

It wasn't until you turned the corner that you saw her and her two friends lounging on the couch.

Luckily, Yuji spoke up, telling you his brother grows and you could get from him.

That got you his number, and having known Yuji, you expected his brother to be a much more enthusiastic texter. You hardly expected one- to two-word responses, absolutely no emojis, and a period at the end of a sentence.

But if it got you what you wanted, you were fine with that.

Most transactions were made through Yuji or Nobara, and despite the lack of customer service that you got from your old plug, his stuff was good, so you couldn't complain.

Then, one day, Yuji messaged you, saying he was having a party at his place and you should come meet his brother. You didn't see why not, so you and Nobara got dressed up together and went.

It was unsurprising that there were a lot of people—Yuji loved making friends, after all—so it took a minute to find him. But he had a wide smile when he saw you two, giving you hugs and telling you his brother was in the garage.

You didn't have to excuse yourself cause your sister was already gone by the time you turned back, so you made your way to the garage.

Inside, there was only one person. A taller man with longer hair who was taking stuff out of the trunk of a car, and when he turned to you, you noticed his tired eyes looking at you. He was cute.

"What?" He asked.

"Choso?" You asked, and he nodded. You smiled a bit and said, "Y/N."

A look of recognition flashed across his face.

"Yuji told me you'd be coming." He then lifted the box in his arms slightly, as if to show you the alcohol. "Leave it to my brother to think a six-pack would be enough for a party."

You couldn't help the amused hum that passed your lips as your gaze traced the strained muscles in his arms.

"Want some help?"

After the two of you brought in a couple cases of liquor, you followed him back to the garage. Besides your sister and her friends, you didn't know anyone, and you figured at least Choso would have some weed on him if nothing else.

He leaned against his car and fished a lighter out of his pocket before looking at you and holding it up as an invitation. You smiled and moved to stand in front of him as he took out a case from his other pocket, placing the joint from inside between his lips.

"You don't wanna hang out with your brother?" You asked as he lit it.

Choso just raised an eyebrow at you, blowing out the smoke slowly and drawing your eyes to his lips.

"You don't wanna hang out with your sister?" He retaliated casually, holding out the blunt for you.

With a couple puffs of your own, you shift your weight onto your other leg. Choso's soft gaze stays on you, waiting for you to continue.

"Why smoke out here?" You asked, and he shrugged.

"Not a fan of people." He explained, and you gave him a look. He shakes his head, "don't make it seem like I'm a loner; I just don't wanna hang out with my younger brother's friends."

"Not a fan of younger people?" You don't give him time to answer before you say, "pretty sure I'm younger than you."

"You're fine." It's casual in the way he says it, but it does something to you, and you end up shifting again when he hands you the blunt.

His eyes flicked down to your legs, taking notice of your movement. "Wanna sit?"

Choso patted the hood of the car beside him as an offer, and you looked at his fingers sitting on top of the metal. They were long and lanky, with prominent veins running through his hand and up his arm. It led you back to his face, which is waiting for your answer.

So you hopped on top of the hood, taking one more puff than is courteous, but Choso didn't say anything as he took it back.

It was a couple minutes of silence; the two of you smoked until it was just the filter, and Choso threw it away. You started to feel the familiar feeling of your head becoming heavier—or, you were just more aware of the weight of it—and you sank back onto your hands with contentment.

"So, were you just here for the weed?" Choso's voice was pretty monotone, but you could tell he was making a joke.

A small giggle escaped your lips as you noticed the red creeping up in his tired eyes.

"I mean, I won't say no if you wanna share another, but I think hanging out with you is fine by itself." You admitted, and he shook his head at you.

A couple blinks was all it took to remind you that he really did grow some good shit, and you grabbed the bottom of his shirt to tell him the compliment when you looked up at his face and forgot your train of thought.

Instead, you tugged on his shirt and coaxed him to stand in front of you as you tilted your head up at him.

"You don't look like what I thought you would." You drawled out.

"What'd you expect?" He prompted.

You pouted, "pink hair."

Choso let out a soft chuckle, and you almost melted at the sight of his smile. Unintentionally, you leaned closer to him, your eyes focused on the bridge of his nose, where you noticed a faint scar that ran across it. With your noses almost touching, you looked up into his eyes, admiring the way they locked onto you.

"You're hotter than I thought." You mumbled, and his eyebrows raised slightly.

Choso pulled back.

"If you think this'll get you free stuff, you're outta luck."

You giggled and let go of his shirt, leaning back onto your hands with a lazy smile.

"I'd tell you that even if you weren't my plug." You said. "Though, I'm sure a lot of your customers offer favours instead of money."

Once again, he shook his head at you, his smile mirroring yours. You let your head fall back, feeling the stretch in your neck as you stared at the ceiling.

"Wouldn't blame you, sex while high is incredible."

"I wouldn't know." He said and you snapped your head at him.

"You've never had sex after smoking?"

He raised an eyebrow at you, and you understand what he was saying.

"You've never had sex?" You clarified, and Choso shakes his head in agreement, unbothered by it.

"Never had the time." He explained, and at the back of your clouded mind, you recalled Nobara mentioning that Yuji was raised by his older brother.

You slid off the car, standing toe to toe with Choso as you looked up at him. He didn't move, and you could smell his cologne and soft hints of weed.

"Do you wanna know what it's like?" You whispered, gazing up at him through your lashes.

The thought that you could give this man everything made that small pulse of arousal that's been sitting between your legs light on fire. As you stared into Choso's eyes, a mischievous smile played on your lips. The anticipation of what you could do with him sent a rush of excitement through your body.

Instead of giving you a verbal answer, Choso bent down and attached his lips to yours.

He tasted smokey, but it didn't bother you as you brought your hands up into his messy hair. His large hands travelled down your sides and roughly pulled you closer to him. Your knee bumped between his legs, and he uttered a deep moan into your mouth.

Detaching yourself from him, you grabbed his shirt and tugged him to switch places with him, pushing his legs into the hood of his car and forcing him to sit atop it.

Your hands then moved to his jeans as you kissed him again, undoing the button and zipper as you bit his lips. Choso let out a little whine, shakey fingers grasping at your own shirt when you stuck your hand down his pants and cupped his half-hard cock. As you stroked him, you scattered kisses and bites down his neck and along his jaw, leaving nothing to catch the hisses he let out of his mouth in response to your attack. You could feel the heat radiating from his body as his breathing grew heavier. The intensity of the moment heightened as you whispered in his ear, teasing him with promises of what was to come.

Then you sank your knees onto the concrete floor between his legs, pulling down his jeans and boxers just enough to free his cock and balls, your mouth watering at the size.

As you looked up into his eyes, you gently licked his red tip and watched him shut his eyes in pleasure, his hand coming to the top of your head. Then you took him to the back of your throat, eliciting a loud and wanton moan from the man above you. Despite slapping his other hand over his mouth to muffle the sound, you felt a shiver at the noise, knowing that you were driving him wild with something so simple. With each movement of your mouth, you could feel his grip on your hair tighten, urging you to go deeper. The intensity of the moment consumed both of you as you lost yourself in the intoxicating pleasure of giving him ecstasy. His dick was slobbered with your spit, and besides the faint music coming from the house, the garage was filled with the disgusting sounds of you slurping and choking on his cock and Choso's beautiful stuttering noises of bliss.

Your eyes rolled back at the taste of him; the salty precum and weight of his dick on your tongue had you rocking your neglected pussy into your heel. When his moans and whimpers started to catch at the back of his throat, you cupped his heavy balls in your hands, gently massaging them as you continued to pleasure him. The intensity of the moment heightened as you felt his body tense and his breathing become more erratic, signalling that he was about to cum. With a mischievous smile, you increased the speed and pressure of your movements, determined to push him over the edge and make him lose control completely.

The grip on your hair tightened as he let out a guttural groan, his hips bucking uncontrollably against your touch. The raw desire in his eyes fueled your own excitement, and you revelled in the power you had over him in the moment. As he finally reached his climax, you continued to stroke him through his release, savouring the feeling of his pulse against your tongue and his cum running down your throat.

His tired eyes were glazed with lust when you popped him out and stood up. His chest was breathing heavily, but that didn't stop him from grabbing your face and pulling you into a searing kiss, licking up the drops of his cum that slipped from your lips. You moaned at his eagerness to clean his own grime from your face and ran your hands down his clothed body, fingernails scraping along his muscles as they twitched.

"Please," He begged between kisses. "Please fuck me."

You pulled away, looking at the man in front of you with hunger.

"Back seat." You commanded, and Choso listened to you.

The two of you stumbled to the car, pawing at each other as you removed your clothes. By the time you shut the door behind you, the two of you were in your underwear. Choso was hard once again as you mounted him.

Taking off your bra, his eyes locked onto your tits before eagerly going for them with his mouth. but you grabbed his hair and pulled him back. He nearly whimpered at the denial, but you were firm.

"I need to see your face when I take your virginity, baby." You told him.

Choso nodded his head and helped you two rid yourself of the last bit of clothing. Grabbing his cock, you lined it up with your soaking lips as Choso's fingers fluttered over your hips in anticipation. You looked at him, only to find his watery eyes locked on your pussy as he swallowed harshly. You were sure that if you led him on any longer, he would start crying.

"Choso," your sweet voice cooed.

When he locked eyes with yours, you sheathed yourself over his cock, watching firsthand as his mouth dropped open and his eyes rolled back as a broken moan pushed past his lips. It was filthy and erotic, and it made you lift your hips and slam back down onto him just to see his reaction again. His body trembled beneath you, his grip on your hips tightening as he surrendered to the pleasure coursing through him. The intensity of the moment fueled your own desire, igniting a primal need to dominate and explore every inch of his body.

"That feel good, baby?" You asked, knowing he couldn't answer. "Feel good to get fucked in the back of your car?"

Choso whimpered.

You leaned in closer, your breath hot against his ear, as you whispered, "You love being used like this for your first time, don't you?"

The sound of his desperate moans only fueled your attack further, pushing you to take him even harder.

"Your cock feels so good inside me, Choso." You continued to enjoy his reactive body. "so big, I don't think I can just fuck you once."

In his first bout of control, Choso grabbed the back of your head and shut you up with a kiss, hips lifting against yours in desperation.

"So fucking perfect." He managed to huff out, and you rewarded him with a squeeze of your pussy, making him lose the rhythm of his thrusts. The intensity of the moment heightened as Choso's grip tightened on your head, his kiss silencing your words. With each desperate thrust of his hips, he struggled to maintain the little bit of control he had.

He managed to gasp, overcome with the pleasure you were giving him, "You're absolutely incredible." The squeeze of your pussy caused him to lose his rhythm, further intensifying the passion between you.

You smiled wickedly and leaned in to whisper in his ear.

"Yea?" You asked. "Wanna cum inside me?"

It was as if a switch had been flipped. His eyes darkened with desire, and a primal growl escaped his lips. Without hesitation, he grasped your hips firmly and increased the pace, thrusting into you with an urgency that matched your own. The room filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin, and you let out your own noises of pleasure at Choso's actions.

Feeling your climax near, you dug your nails into his bare chest, urging him on. The intensity of the moment consumed both of you as you reached the peak of pleasure together, lost in a whirlwind of ecstasy. Spurts of his cum painted the inside of you, making you moan at the feeling before collapsing against him, sweaty bodies entangling. For a long moment, heavy breathing was the only sound in the hot car. As the air slowly cooled, you both basked in the afterglow.

With a satisfied smile, Choso gently brushed a strand of hair away from your face and whispered, "That was incredible."

You breathed out a laugh, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and cuddling into him.

"Yea," you agreed. "We need to smoke together more often."

#kleftiko’s kinktober #jjk x reader #jjk smut #choso x reader #choso smut #choso kamo x reader #choso kamo smut #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #choso kamo x you #kamo choso x reader #kamo choso smut

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haikyu-mp4 · 7 months ago

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Safehouse

word count; 1497 – gn!reader

Atsumu didn't usually let things bother him for too long. He knew he always did his best in volleyball and he did his best to be a good friend and teammate even though he’s got an ‘unlikeable personality’ as Kiyoomi would phrase it.

But sometimes, it’s just a little too much for him to process, too many missed serves or spikes and petty disagreements, and there was just one place his mind goes to when that happened. His brother.

More specifically, he would go to Onigiri Miya, where Osamu seemed to spend most of his time trying to make the business go ‘round. That’s why he’s storming in this particular Thursday evening, brushing past you with a quick hello before opening the door to the backroom and rushing in.

You stood there, a bit startled with surprise as you chuckled under your breath. Working at Onigiri Miya had so far been your favourite job ever, and that came with seeing Atsumu ever so often.

After about 5 minutes, Atsumu came back out while you were serving an order with your service smile plastered on. As you walked back to the counter, you found the twin looking around for something before his eyes met you. It might have just been a trick of your eye, but it looked like his usually bright eyes were a bit teary. “Hey, Atsumu. Can I help you with anything?” you asked him.

“Have you seen my brother? Looks kinda like me but ugly,” he said with a cheeky smirk, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes like usual. You laughed anyway, shaking your head before grabbing a cloth to clean the counter.

“I think I know who you mean, but he’s out. There was a delivery issue so he decided to go get it himself,” you explained, glancing up at Atsumu from time to time while working. Thursdays weren’t that busy. He was fiddling with his hands now as you put the cloth away after finishing the clean-up like he was struggling with what to do with this new information. Since he didn’t really answer you, you stopped in front of him and tried to meet his eyes. “Is there something wrong, love?”

You were similar to Osamu in many ways, at least Atsumu thought so. With your warmth and kind smile, he harboured some kind of crush on you ever since he met you on your second day working there. “Do you have some… food?” he asked, voice nearly cracking. You patted his shoulder and nodded, walking past him into the kitchen.

“I think I might find some, yeah.” This made him breathe out a short laugh, sitting down on a bar stool so he could be closer to you. “I’ll get your favourite going, I asked Samu about it once,” you said, hands already working while you glanced up at the restaurant to keep an eye on the customers as well.

Atsumu finally smiled again, if only a little. “You asked him?”

“Making food is my love language,” you said, looking down at the food again so he couldn’t see your red cheeks. Atsumu hadn’t felt his chest fill with this kind of warmth since he last visited his mother, and boy did it feel good on that particularly shitty day. He leaned on his hand on the counter, eyes observing you while you made him food. To show him love.

You didn’t start too much conversation, assuming Atsumu would talk to you if he felt like it, but for now, he seemed content watching you work and asking how your day had been. In the end, he seemed a bit lighter by the time you put his food in front of him, but it still didn’t reach his eyes. “Thank you so much, y/n. I really needed this,” he said, mouth already filled with food.

“My pleasure. Professional athletes have bad days too, I guess,” you sighed, hinting that you were there if he wanted to talk.

Atsumu nodded and kept stuffing his mouth, mind going back to his high school team and their banner. “Luckily, there is always tomorrow.”

You laughed more genuinely this time, patting his shoulder as you passed to serve a table who asked to order more. “There is always tomorrow.”

By the time you came back after delivering their new order, Atsumu had finished his onigiri and you could feel his eyes following you again. You raised an eyebrow, taking the plate from in front of him and waiting for whatever lay on the tip of his tongue. “Speaking of tomorrow, how about a date?” he asked, speaking quicker than usual so by the time you registered his words, the plate slipped from your hands and crumbled to the floor in broken pieces. “Shit.”

You shook your head to rid of the fluster, squatting down quickly to pick up the pieces. Your cheeks flushed as Atsumu hurried around the counter to bend down and help you. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know why-” you tried to laugh it off, finally about to tell him that yes, you would love to go on a date with him when the wonderful sound of your boss’ voice rang through the kitchen.

“Y/n? Did ‘Tsumu stop by?” And because both of you were called, Atsumu accidentally knocked his head into yours, making him drop all the pieces of porcelain to caress your head. However, you were already off balance so he ended up just pushing you backwards and falling with you, landing unceremoniously on top of you and scraping the pieces of the broken plate along the floor.

“I’m so sorry!” he said, the tone of his dialect even more prominent. And at the perfect moment, Osamu walked in. You were having such a moment, what happened? you thought to yourself, while Atsumu’s head was echoing stupid Samu.

“What the hell is going on here?” your boss asked, making the two of you look at him with surprise as if you didn’t already know he was there.

“This is not what it looks like!” Atsumu yelled, making Osamu look over his shoulder with an apologetic smile at the customers out in the restaurant.

“He knows that, idiot, just get off me,” you laughed, pushing his shoulders to help him up. He scrambled to his feet, finally managing to bend down and pick up the biggest pieces of the broken plate with scattered rice that was now sticking to the floor in some places.

Osamu had already gotten to work, letting the two of you settle yourself and smirking to himself as he imagined how much his brother made a fool of himself. While Atsumu was throwing away the pieces, you quickly got the mop out to clean the floor of rice and smaller pieces, finally getting it all into the dustpan and then the trash. You sighed, using your hand to fan your face, which was red from the quick work and how hot the room suddenly was. Should I turn the air conditioner on lower?

Your boss passed by you with a certain look you couldn’t quite read, but it made you squint at him with suspicion. Then you looked past his shoulder, at sweet, clumsy Atsumu who was back in the high chair with his hands intertwined on the counter in front of him like he never hurt a fly. Okay, maybe you knew why Osamu was looking at you like that even though he was being uncharacteristically silent about it.

While Osamu swiftly moved around to cover his half of work and then some, you took the opportunity to stand in front of his twin again with your hands out in front of you like you were bracing yourself for a surprise impact. “Yes.”

Atsumu stared at you with a blank look, but at least he didn’t look as dejected as he did earlier. Guess you knocked some sense into him with your head. “Yes?” he repeated, a bit lost.

“I’ll work out my schedule with Osamu and you can pick me up tomorrow,” you clarified, picking up one of the business cards that sat by the till, and quickly jotting down your number. “Text me for the address.”

His eyes lit up with that mischievous spark you liked so much that was missing when he came here, standing up from the chair and clutching the little piece of paper as he turned around to the restaurant. “Samu! She needs off tomorrow evening!” he yelled, making you shush him. When did that ever stop Atsumu?

Osamu just turned back to the customer he was standing closest to, seemingly apologising for his brother’s behaviour again while said brother turned back to you like he just solved all your problems. You shook your head with an affectionate smile before going back in the kitchen, waving him off. “Idiot. Now leave before he gets back, unless you’d like our first date to be in the hospital.”

masterlist

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barrackspredator · 2 months ago

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sugar service

cw: didn’t proof read this, cussing, writing practice. best of luck.

“Hot damn!”

“Smash, smash, smash, uh… yeah, him too. Smash.”

You rolled your eyes, stifling a laugh as the other waitresses eyed your table. The three of you were waiting at the hostess post on a particularly slow day. The only customers was your table of four. Some older guys your friends just couldn’t seem to get enough of.

“Please,” you mumbled. “They’re old enough to be our dads.” Your eyes flicked up from the magazine in your hands to your coworkers. The three girls were giggling and occasionally glancing over their shoulders.

“Yeah, that's the best part!” Your coworker, Rona replied before glancing back again. “Older guys are experienced and typically have pretty big… savings.” She grinned at you, her eyes narrowing coyly.

“God-!” you scoffed, choking down your surprised guffaw. “You guys are unbelievable.”

Ignoring their giggles and teasing, you push yourself off of the wall you were leaning against to approach your table. Your eyes roamed over the four men, taking in how their shirts clung perfectly to their muscles. A few gray hairs here and there, but their physiques certainly made up for their age.

Caught up in your ogling, you slammed your hip into the corner of their table. The oldest of the men quickly grabbed the edge of the table to steady it.

“Fuck…” Your hand immediately slapped over your mouth in shock, remembering that you were in front of customers. The men chuckled, eyeing each other before turning back to look at you.

“Careful there, sweetheart. Can’t ’ave a pretty little thing like you bruising up,” one of the men, a particularly dashing man with a mohawk, chastised you. His eyes scanned yours before slowly raking down your form.

Letting out a shaky sigh of relief that they were cool and not some uptight old asses, you smiled. A genuine smile, not the customer service lip curl you were so used to doing. “I would like to apologize for that, gentlemen.” After a few seconds, you quickly added, “Please don’t tell my manager.”

With languid waves and laughs, they shook their heads and sipped their beverages in amusement. “There ain’t anything to tell.” A man with a scarred face stared, boring his eyes into you. He seemed to be deep in thought before giving his head a slight nod—something the other men quickly noted.

“Thank you.” You took a deep breath now that the anxiety of possibly losing this shitty job passed. “Is there anything I can get you, gentlemen? Drinks, dessert?”

“Your number?” He looked at you expectantly, a handsome man. The youngest of the bunch, no doubt.

Dealing with flirty old customers was a piece of cake. It’s what got the tips going. But typically they were vile old men you would never touch with a 10-foot pole. These guys were quite palatable. Very palatable.

“Well,” you laughed nervously. Perhaps Rona had a point. These men had a way of making a girl’s tummy flutter like it never has before. “Unfortunately, I can’t give you that, sir.”

“Kyle.”

“Pardon?” You blinked at him, furrowing your brows.

“Call me Kyle.” Another dashing smile sent butterflies thrashing in your belly.

“None of that sir shit. Makes us feel too damn old.” The men grumbled with bitter chuckles. “Johnny.” The man with the mohawk dismissively pat your hip, gripping the tender flesh of your forming bruise. “That old sap is John. And the brooding fella is Simon.”

“Piss off,” Simon grumbled, certainly living up to the broody title.

An amused giggle shook her shoulders, your hand subconsciously resting over Johnny’s. “It’s lovely meeting you all. So how about that dessert?” You inquired, grabbing the paper centerfold that listed off the desserts of the weeks. “The chocolate chunk brownies are pretty good and the cheesecake here is lovely paired with...”

The men rose from their table, completely ignoring your rambles. “That won’t be needed, love.” John’s hand rested on your shoulder, perhaps a bit too close to your chest.

“You give us a call when you’re ready.” Johnny stood beside you, his breath flicking against the shell of your ear. His hot, tipsy breath made you shiver and recoil.

Kyle only chuckled, gracefully slipping a business card into your pocket. “A pretty little thing like you shouldn’t be working.” There it was again. That dashing smile that turned your knees into jelly.

“Give us a call.” Simon grumbled from the table. Glancing at him, you noticed the thick wad of cash he was leaving behind on the table.

“Sir, that’s too much.”

“Enjoy your tip.” Johnny pat your hip dismissively, sauntering away shortly after. John and Kyle followed behind him.

In complete disbelief, you nervously laughed. “Holy shit…” You shakily picked up the wad of cash left behind on the table. Simon quietly stood behind you, casting his shadow over your body. His eyes slowly raked down your back.

“See you ‘round,” he mumbled, not surprised as you jumped out of your skin in shock at his presence. Moments later, he was out of the place, nothing left but an empty establishment.

With shaky fingers, you plucked the business card out of your pocket.

Sugar Service Call (555)141-6157

#tf 141 x reader #tf 141 x you #tf 141 #ghost x reader #captain price x reader #soap x reader #gaz x reader #i’m not good at this #shitty writing #writing practice #ghost x you #simon ghost riley x you #captain price #johnny soap mctavish x reader #gaz x you

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sunraies · 2 years ago

Note

How about the reader being a waitress and spilling Rafes drink all over him accidentally and while she's patting him down with a cloth to clean him up he gets an erection with smut pretty please

Sure! I made Rafe soft, no pun intended. I've only proofread once x

Spilt Drink

Rafe Cameron x Pogue!Reader

Warnings - MDNI!! +18, slight sub!reader x dom!Rafe, smoking reader, smoking, fingering, P in V, pill mentioned, rushed smut.

As requested above

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

It was a disgustingly hot day. Summer in the Outerbanks was always hot, humid and dry. The Cut was always a dull yellow and the roads dust. While Figure Eight was lush and green with the tarmac melting on the roads.

One good thing about working at the Country Club was the air conditioning but the black restaurant uniform code, still made you sweat. That day you decided to wear as little as possible in the form of a little black dress. Still technically in the uniform code but more cooling than the polo shirt and black pants combo you normally wore.

The moment Rafe entered with Topper and Kelce, he had to do a double take on you. You looked so different, he couldn't pin point how as he had seen you in both your work and Pogue attire but in that dress you looked gorgeous.

You groaned internally as you spotted who walked in after finishing cleaning a table. The three of them were always so loud, taking up the plush sofa chairs in the middle as they would most likely be there for the rest of the afternoon. They had clearly been golfing that morning as Rafe's cheeks were a little pink from the sun.

"Hi, what can I get you?" You asked was fake smile and sweet tone as you pulled your notepad and pen from your apron.

"3 beers" Kelce said, not even looking at you.

"And a water" Topper added as Rafe just sneak looks at you.

He hid his smirk with his hand, faking uninterest as he looked you up and down. Subconsciously you pulled the hem of your dress down a little

"Coming right up" you gave them another smile before heading to the bar and placing the order.

"Rafe was totally checking you out" Mags said as she poured the drinks, giving you a wink. The slightly older woman was one of your close friends.

"Oh fuck off" you whispered "He was not"

"Girl, he was. Man was practically giving you the sex eyes"

"Shut up. He was not"

"I mean who wouldn't. You are killer in that dress"

You tugged the hem again before noticing the top would pull down more, giving a lot of cleavage.

"Why didn't you tell me it did this?!" You hissed

She just hummed and continuing with the drinks. "You look good" she shrugged "not that you don't always"

You shook your head and smiled at her before carrying the drinks over. You interrupted them in the middle of laughing about something. As you placed the drinks down, everything was going fine until the condensation on the glass made it slip out of your hand.

Time seemed to go in slow motion as the glass hit the table, toppling on its side and pouring all of its contents into Rafe's lap. He managed to open his legs the minute the beer hit him, causing most to go on the floor.

"I'm so sorry, sir" In your panic you went into full customer service mode.

You needed this job, and if he went to your boss, you would be out the door. Just your luck to spill a drink in Rafe fucking Cameron's lap.

He tried not to groan as you leant over him, dabbing his lap with napkins from the table. He felt intoxicated by the smell of your shampoo, perfume and sweat. He closed his eyes a moment as he realised he could see down your dress before slightly jumping as you applied pressure to his crotch.

"I got it" He snapped, trying to take the napkins from you but it was too late as you felt it.

Your cheeks burned as you noticed his erection and quickly moved away. "I'll go get you another beer"

You got Mags to get the drink as you hurried out back, claiming you needed a smoke. As you pushed the back door open, your hands fumbled for your cigarettes before popping a smoke in your mouth before realising you forgot your lighter.

"Fuck"

You stood against the wall in the shade, desperately trying not to overthink the whole scene in there. Had he really been looking at you that way and was he really that big, or were you imagining it.

As you were about to head back inside the door opened again and your eyes widened as Rafe walked out. A small part of you was a little scared, although he was never awful to you, he was still a Pogue hating Kook and you had just embarrassed him.

"You need a light?"

You stared at him, that was not the reaction you had been expecting "What?"

"You need a light?" He pulled out his own cigarette from his pocket and lit it before passing you the lighter

"Your hand's shaking, sweetheart" He pointed out as you took the lighter.

"Just been a hard day" you muttered taking a drag before realising the pun "god, shit, sorry! A long day..."

Your cheeks burned again as you covered your face, deciding to stop talking. You exhaled a shaky breathe as he hummed, leaving the silence between you. He moved to rest against the wall beside you, his arm touching yours. You didn't dare move until he spoke.

"You don't have any fucking idea, what happened in there, do you?" He sighed, looking over at you.

"I'm honestly so sorry"

You took a few glances at him, noticing him just staring at you before his jaw ticked and he blew out a few smoke rings.

"Why do you keep staring?" You muttered "because if you are thinking of ways to kill me, stop"

His jaw ticked again before he let out a low chuckle. "I'm staring because you are gorgeous and I'm thinking of ways to fuck you"

You swallowed, glad the wall was holding you up as your knees felt weak. Anyone else talking to you in that way would have been punched but the way his eyes were blown and the effect you knew you had on him. It was causing a whole damn zoo to explode in your stomach.

He smirked, watching your reaction before finishing his smoke, throwing the butt away before you mirrored his actions.

"Would you like that, baby girl?" He asked leaning closer to you as you nodded. "Words, sweetheart"

"Yes" you breathed out

"Yes? What?" His eyes were teasing. You frowned at him a little before he gave you a clue "you know what the word did to me"

"Yes, sir?" You were uncertain before a smile broke out on his face.

"Good" He whispered, his ringed hand cupping your cheek as his thumb ran over your bottom lip.

Your breath hitched in your chest as his ocean eyes locked on yours before he leaned in more. The tip of his nose brushed against yours, before he finally kissed you. He tasted of smoke but you didn't care as his lips were so soft and he knew what he was doing. He gently bit your lip, causing you to gasp and give his tongue entrance.

You felt a warm tingle down your spine as you felt his large hand against your lower back, pulling you towards him. He chuckled against your lips as you wrapped a leg around him.

"Needy, aren't you baby?" He purred, breaking away to kiss your neck.

You can't help the moan that escape you as he nibbled a sweet spot while his hand glided up your thigh. You knew you had already soaked through your underwear as he continued peppering your neck and jawline in kisses.

A dark laugh left him as his fingers finally glided over your panties. "I've barley touch you and you're already so wet for me, pretty girl"

You whined and his hand slid beneath your panties and he began to rub your clit in slow circles

"We don't have much time, baby" He whispered "someone could catch us any minute"

"I don't care" you moaned, head resting against the wall "as long as you keep doing that"

"Just this?" He smirked before you gasp as he slided two fingers into you. He knew what he was doing as you began to come undone.

"You look so pretty falling apart for me, baby" He teased.

Soon you were gasping, tightening around his fingers as your legs shook. You whined as he pulled away "Ready?"

"Fuck me, Rafe" you whispered, pulling him in for a kiss. He hesitated before you said "I'm on the pill"

Your eyes widened, seeing how big he actually was. Even feeling it briefly earlier didn't do him justice. You whimpered and whined as he kissed you cheeks, nose and forehead

"I know, baby, I know" He whispered "you can take it, pretty girl. I know you can take it"

He was so gentle until you asked for more. He was just the right amount of rough and soon you both climaxed. His head was buried in your chest while you played with his hair. You both desperately tried to catch your breaths.

You fixed your dress as he pulled away. You both stared at each for a moment before you spoke first.

"I should. I should probably go back inside" you turned to the door.

"Wait!" He stopped you as he held the door shut. Here would be the part he made you swear to tell no one "Do you want to go on a date? We could hang out? Lunch or Dinner?"

You swallowed and nodded slowly before smiling "sure, I mean I would love too. I have tomorrow off"

The smile that forms on his face, melts your heart before he held the door open for you "I'll pick you up and we'll go to the main land"

There was the catch, you couldn't be seen together in Outerbanks but all the thoughts stopped when he kissed you quick again.

Once back inside, it was like nothing ever happened. Rafe went back to his friends but looked at you every so often as you continued to work. You were so thankful that the back area was walled off and there was no cameras but you were 90% sure Mags knew.

#rafe cameron #outer banks rafe #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe x reader #outerbanks #outerbanks fic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron smut #rafe request

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plotsignificanthaircut555 · 7 months ago

Text

Cherries

Jiraiya x Reader. MDNI 18+ only. Ao3

You’re a waitress at a gambling club, and a fan of Jiraiya’s book, when he comes into your club you can’t help yourself from going home with him.

This was kind of inspired by the song Cherries by Annie Kemble, a good friend of mine. It’s a great song, give it a listen even if you don’t wanna read this fic. But I hope y’all do both. Love y’all as always <3 Doodle

Content notes: SMUT, smoking, drinking, pussy eating, uncut dick (b/c why would anyone in the Naruto universe be circumcised?), jiraiya is his own warning tbh.

The sound of shouting players, and the smell of smoke was second nature to you now. You had been working in the parlor for two years, serving drinks, selling and lighting cigarettes, loading pipes and blowing on dice. You were frequently propositioned by customers for more salacious services, many offered money. Sometimes you would take it, if you were feeling comfortable enough, or the price was enough to tempt you, they never asked too much of you. Usually short encounters, over before the sun rose again. You had no problem making money this way, and why should you? You were working, you were talented in this regard, they had a good time and paid you well. As long as you kept yourself safe from harm, you rarely even got nervous anymore.

Tonight had been on the slower side, the middle of the week wasn’t often popular for gambling. You hadn’t been tipped that well, two different tables had stiffed you completely. You didn’t think you would be walking home pleased with your purse tonight. Breaking from the foggy main room, you slipped into the private bathroom reserved only for employees. Your makeup was immaculate still, but you applied another layer of ruby colored lipstick, patting it lightly with your finger before cleaning up the edges. You mussed your hair slightly in an attempt to give it more volume, before giving yourself one last look and smiling. You were beautiful, you were so grateful to know it and feel it.

While you were in the bathroom, Jiraya entered the parlor. His boisterous laugh gathered the attention of everyone, his hulking figure shook the table as he sat down at one of the games. The energy around him was light and fun, people of course recognized him and were excited to buy a man of such legend drinks, or play against him. Of course he wasn’t a great gambler, Jiraya was primarily here to get drunk and to flirt, shaking off another long day of training and mentorship. His eyes rose from the game table just in time to catch the most beautiful woman he had ever seen exiting from the back of the parlor. Well done up, makeup clean and vibrant, showing elegance with a clear personality that he would love to discover. Styled hair, pulled away from her working face, but falling perfectly where it could to give the appearance of casual effort. He was shaken by the man sitting next to him, and brought back to the game. Barely paying any attention, he offered a raised bet, and lost near instantly. He didn’t care, he took the last of his drink and shot it back, standing from the table and moving through the crowd over to where you were reloading your tray with drinks.

“Hello, gorgeous.” The alcohol had reddened his cheeks and lowered his already rock bottom inhibitions.

You gave him a practiced smile and began to lift the probably overloaded tray, “hello sir, is there something you might need from me?”

“I’ve got a couple ideas, but I’ll save them until you’ve dropped that tray off.” He took a seat on the available bar stool next to the drink well, “don’t worry about me, honey, I’ll still be here when you get back.”

You giggled flirtatiously, ever the professional, before passing him to deliver the bottles of sake and beer to your patrons. You swished your hips as you walked, knowing he was staring at you. You didn’t mind, he was a bit older than your usual type but you knew his reputation.

Master Jiraya of the legendary Sanin, you had even read one of his books. A girlfriend had recommended it to you, starting a scandalous book club you briefly belonged to. You were sure his writing was generous, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to find out for yourself. He was tall, and handsome, and fucking big. Everything about him was big: his body, his presence, his voice, his reputation. You wondered if everything else was just as big.

Clearing your tray, you turned back to the bar, he was still watching you. You assumed he had been the whole time. His dark brown eyes crinkled up at the sides following the line of a wide grin. The red markings down his cheeks bent and blending into his blushing alcohol fevered cheeks. You stood to his side, sliding in between stools and leaning your body against the counter. Flirting was part of your job, keeping the patrons entertained and engaged was just as much your work as serving drinks. Sure this may have had some selfish motives, but no one could say you weren’t working too.

“So….I have to confess something,” you flicked your eyes up at him, through your thick made up lashes.

“Oh sweetheart, I would love to hear a confession from you. Need me to offer you forgiveness?” He was becoming brazen, moving his large hand to your waist, which you leaned into.

“I’ve actually read a few of your books.” You moved your hand over the arm that he leaned on the bartop.

He watched you trail your finger over his forearm. He was flattered by your admission. His mouth was starting to water.

“Well, it’s always nice to meet a fan. Especially one as beautiful as you.” He watched you blush at his words, “do you have a copy? I’d love to sign it for you. Is it back in your bedroom?”

He started to stand up, but your hand was sturdy on his shoulder, pressing him back down onto the stool.

“Not so fast.” You smiled, your fingernails toying playfully with the hem of his sleeve, “I’m excited to meet you, Master Jiraya. And I’d be happy to continue spending time with you tonight. But you see, I’m still working. And I’m not finished here for another hour.”

You closed the distance between the two of you, fingers moving his long white hair over his shoulder and leaning in to brush your lips against his ear. He smelled like jasmine and pipe smoke, something else lingered as an undernote, something earthy and organic.

“I’d love for you to sign my book. I don’t live far, but you’ll have to wait until my shift is up. Think you can do that for me?” You pulled back, batting your eyelashes and pouting your lips, fingers still tangled in his hair and clothes.

His eyes were glassy but locked onto you, his heart pounding in his chest, if you looked hard enough you were sure you could see his pulse in his neck. He nodded and you nodded back, an agreement made and a promise to be kept.

“Can I top off your drink?” you offered, reaching across the bar top and not so subtly arching your back and grabbing a fresh sake bottle.

“Only if you share it with me,” his eyes licked over your body.

He couldn’t believe his luck. The most beautiful girl in the whole place not only was talking to him but knew his work, and seemed to be interested. You pulled an extra cup and filled both glasses, offering one to him. He accepted graciously, still struck by the ease of the whole situation.

“To your work.” You offered

“To your work.” He offered, tapping his glass against yours before drinking together.

You two shared the bottle over the next half hour. You would occasionally need to seperate yourself and assist your coworkers, who were also engaging in the night's entertainment and service. You didn’t have any more tables to yourself, so you were mostly running drinks and offering support. Everytime you left his side, Jiraya always waited patiently for you to come back to him.

“So what keeps you working here?” He asked upon one of your returns.

“I like it. The money's good, the hours are better,” you nudged his arm, “the people are interesting.”

“Are they?” He asked, catching your hand in his and running his thumb across the back of your knuckles.

His touch was hot against your skin, leaving little prickles of electricity in its wake. You weren’t sure when exactly it had happened, but you found yourself becoming more and more excited by the idea of spending the night with him. He was forward but had remained respectful, keeping his hands relegated to your arms and back, but never on your legs or hips. The conversation flowed naturally, he was actually very funny, giving plenty of chances for you to swoon at his wide smile. His good looks were filtered by age but he was still an incredibly handsome man, his strong nose leading up to his dark eyes, big lips growing wetter and looking softer at every passing shot.

“Yeah,” you answered, flipping his own hand over to run your index finger over the inside of his palm, tracing the lines, “although they aren’t usually so handsome. Or accomplished.you wouldn’t believe the amount of stories I’ve sat through about farming or markets.”

“You know, gorgeous, if I didn’t know any better. I’d start to worry you were playing me a bit. Are my stories boring you?” He watched your finger trace over his palm, and he watched when it stopped.

Your slender finger ceased its cartography of jiraiya's large palm, moving his hand over so it faced down. You slotted your fingers in between his. You let them linger for a moment, joined together, before bringing his knuckles up to your lips and kissing lightly. Your lipstick transferred lightly, leaving a red kiss mark across the ridge of two of his fingers. You met his gaze as you pulled away, his bottom lip was caught in between his teeth as he watched you.

“Not at all, Master Jiraiya. I feel quite fortunate to be talking to you tonight.” You set his hand back down on the table, but kept your hand tucked into his.

His voice shook slightly as he asked, “how much longer is your shift?”

Your eyes flicked over to the clock on one wall, “twelve more minutes. Think you can wait here while I wrap up?”

He nodded and breathed out, releasing himself from the previous moment of tension. He leaned back slightly as you stood up and walked to the back to settle your cash for the night and close out your final tabs. Besides Jiraya it had been a slow night for you, but despite the lower than expected take home pay, you felt giddy as you collected your final tabs and closed out with your bartender and manager. Before finishing up, you swung by the bar one last time. This time opting to not sit beside Jiraiya, but lean behind him, pressing your chest into his back and talking directly in his ear.

“You actually still have to settle your tab.” You reminded him, circling a lock of his hair around your finger.

“Ah, right.” He got the bartender's attention and closed his tab, leaving a hefty tip, “should I tip you as well? Or does that come later?”

He turned to face you, suddenly his ever confident aura had dimmed slightly, as though he had grown nervous.

“You're signing my book, that’s a great tip, especially after I sell it as a collector’s item for having a genuine signature!” You teased, laughing.

He laughed along with you before standing. You realized he towered over you, he was well above six feet, probably by another half. He looked down at you, your features enticing him in further and further. His mind raced, thinking of your eyes fluttering at him, how soft your lips felt against his hand, the smell of Cherry that followed you every time you walked past him.

“Why don’t you head outside, I’ll meet you out front after I grab my bag from the back.” You told him.

Just one more hurdle until you could finally have each other. The tension continued to build and build until you knew it would eventually compound in on itself. Hopefully in your bed, and hopefully again and again until the sun comes up.

“I’ll be waiting.” He said, and lifted your own hand to his lips this time. Offering a more dramatic, showman’s kiss before loudly smacking his lips off.

You hurried to the back to hang up your apron, grab your coat and bag, and say goodbye to your coworkers. You slipped out the back and walked around to the front of the building.

Jiraya waited patiently, but nervous. This wouldn’t be the first time he had been duped by a beautiful woman’s promise of a “good time”. When you finally emerged from the side of the building, his face lit up, shoulders relaxing as he took you in.

“I hope you didn’t think I was going to leave you out here.” You read his mind.

“Of course not, just enjoying the night air. It’s good to clear the mind.” He looked down at you, you had walked straight up to him, nearly chest to chest.

The two of you stood for a moment, then two. Breath syncing up, heart rate too. In the moonlight your features look softer, eyes sparkling up at him. Jiraya fought the urge to hold your cheeks and press your lips together, you were still outside of your place of work and he didn’t want to embarrass you.

“This way,” you finally took his hand and led him down the street.

Your conversations from inside the bar continued as you walked home with Jiraiya following you closely. Your walk home wasn’t far, only a few blocks, and he was right about the night air. You had only had a few glasses to drink, but the soft summer wind was already helping you feel more alert and awake. When you finally entered the grouping of apartments where you lived, you led him to your door.

“I wasn’t expecting company, so you’ll have to excuse the mess.” You said, you had actually just cleaned the previous day, but it couldn’t help to under promise and overdeliver.

Jiraiya couldn’t care less where you lived, or how, he was just so excited to be in the home of an incredible young woman who had invited him in. You opened the door, moonlight illuminating the dark living room. With him following closely, you moved to turn on a few lamps, brightening the space. Your place was nearly immaculate, not devoid of personality, but neat. You had drapery hung over your windows and around your light fixtures allowing the light to take on different hues. Purples, blues, and golds filled the space, casting patterned shadows over the walls.

“Wow, kid. Nice place. You do all this yourself?”, Jiraiya let out a low whistle, impressed with your home making skills already.

“Mhm,” you nodded, setting your bag down on your dining table.

You moved to undo the buttons of your coat, when you felt his hands slip around you from behind, his chest was right up against your back, his head stooped down to speak in your ear.

“Please, allow me.”, his fingers were quick to undo your buttons, moving smoothly up your lapels and sliding the jacket off of your shoulders, leaving them bare and chilled with excitement.

His smell of jasmine filled your space, you felt intoxicated with him already. His lips brushed the shell of your ear, then the juncture of your jaw and neck, then the side of your throat. You bit back a moan along with the urge to lean your head back against his chest.

“Are you trying to get out of signing my book?” You teased as his hand began to circle your waist.

He laughed, it shocked you a bit. The usually booming laugh, subdued and hot against your ear. He knew just how to play you. You turned to face him, stepping back slightly, not so subtly trying to regain your footing.

“Of course not,” Jiraiya smiled down at you, his large hands still in your waist, “you keep it next to your bed?”

You pushed his chest slightly, “you wish.”

You pulled out of his grasp and moved to a low bookshelf in your modest seating area, you had to bend over to retrieve it. You heard him suck in some air as you did so. Finally pulling the bound text from your shelf, you stood again and faced him. A blush crept up your face, you realized you had dogeared a few pages, which reminded you that you had actually made notes in a few margins. Maybe you liked this book a bit more than you let on. He noticed too, taking the book from you and opening to the first page.

“You have a pen?” He moved to sit cross legged on your floor over the coffee table.

You grabbed a writing utensil from your desk drawer and offered it to him, loving to sit next to him.

“Ah ah,” he tutted, hiding the book, “no peeking.”

You rolled your eyes and sat across from him instead. You watched him carefully as he thought of what to write, and with a devilish glint in his eye, started scribbling his autograph. He was taking longer than should be necessary for his name.

“You’re not writing something dirty in there, are you?” You tease, sliding your foot under the table to nudge his crossed leg..

“I already did, that’s why you like it so much.” He flirted back instantly, not even slightly shaken by your contact. He was clearly in his element.

Finally when he had finished his escription, he read over his own words. Giggling to himself, he brought the book up and mimed a kiss against the page, before blowing on it softly, to dry the ink.

“There you go, gorgeous. One of a kind.” He closed the book and set it on the table with his hand still over it, inviting you to try to take it from him.

You took the bait and reached over, he slid it just out of reach, “Almost.”

You got the game. Sliding around the table, you now were next to him, your hand fit next to his, fingers intertwining on the bound leather. You moved your body up his, with him seated and you on your knees, you were finally eye to eye with him. He watched you closely, pupils blown in excitement. You moved to sit on his lap, finally in a full embrace. He was so wide, it was hard to fully straddle him, but you managed. You could feel him getting hard underneath you, too many layers separated you from him. You could feel how wet you had gotten from the back and forth of tonight. You wanted him so bad. His large, delicious body, his experience, his charisma. It had all drawn you in. His hands moved from the table, abandoning the book and over slid your hips, then up your back and down again. The sensation was soothing and also titillating.

You felt yourself dampen further, and your breath increase. You moved your arms around his neck, leaning closer and closer, you could feel the tie that held his long hair back and you pulled until it came loose, allowing his white hair to fall freely. Your lips were so close to his, you could smell sake on his breath, you could feel his heart beating under you.

“Jiraiya?”, your lips were nearly against his as you spoke his name.

“Yes, gorgeous?”, His big hands squeezed your hips, keeping your firm against his clothed erection.

“Are you going to kiss me? Or are you going to make me beg you for it.” You looked at him under your lashes, catching his eye just in time to see him shudder a bit.

“All you had to do was ask.” He caught your lips in his, his hands on your hips pulling you closer to him.

His lips were so soft, but his kiss was so hard and passionate. His tongue immediately slipped between your lips, quickly mapping the inside of your mouth. He had the faintest taste of smoke, probably a pipe or cigarette from earlier in the night. His hands moved through his hair, tugging lightly, making him moan against your mouth.

“Such a pretty girl,” he mumbled between hot, wet kisses, “you don’t know what you’re doing to me.”

Feeling emboldened by his praise, you moved one hand between your joined hips to stroke his hardened dick, “I think I have a pretty good idea.”

His hips bucked at your touch, a half moan-half laugh sputtering from his lips. He cursed and pulled at the back of your shirt, removing it quickly. His hands were rough against your skin, decades of both training and writing causing his palms and fingers to callus. Your skin was so soft by juxtaposition, smooth and even, plump and vibrant. He removed your bra skillfully, your breasts spilling out for him to quickly latch his mouth onto.

You moaned, throwing your head back, “Master Jiraiya!”

He could barely hear you, he was completely immersed in how good it felt to have your bare chest in front of him, against his lips, against his tongue. He flicked his skilled tongue over your nipple, pulling back to watch it harden and peak.

“You’ve got such great tits, baby. Such a pretty thing for me.” He kissed up the side of your neck.

You were rocking your hips against his, trying desperately to pull more of those shocked moans from him in the process. Your hands moved under his tunic, unknotting the tie and pulling the sides apart. His chest was so broad, a large star shaped scar bloomed from the center outward. You had hooked up with shinobi before, you were familiar with the combat scars and various bruises to be found on their bodies. But this was unlike anything you had ever seen. It was expansive, and evidently distracting, as you had stopped your grinding to gawk at the large healed wound.

“Thought girls liked scars.” He joked.

You ran your hand down his chest, fingers exploring the topography of muscle and scar tissue.

“I do.” You leaned down to kiss the side of his neck, hand traveling further down to his hip bone and further to undo the tie of his pants.

“You work fast, honey.” He bit his lip trying to cover the moan your eager touch pulled from him.

You moved off his lap, now pulling his trousers along with you as you moved down his body, “worried you can’t keep up, old man?”

This struck something in him. Something competitive and cocky. Before you realized it he had you up on the couch, and he was kneeling between your legs.

“I hope you don’t mind if this old man takes a turn first?” He growled holding your hips in place as you tried to figure out just how he had moved you so quickly.

His hands pulled at the top of your skirt, undoing the zipper on the side and sliding it down your legs.

“It only feels fair after I so graciously gave you my autograph free of charge.” He removed your skirt completely, leaving you only in your red panties.

You were so wet already, the panties were sticking to you. You wanted them off so bad, you wanted him so bad. His hands ran up your thighs, Jiraiya delighting in the hot, smooth skin of a young woman writing under his touch. You were so gorgeous, a beautiful body, a beautiful face, charming and intelligent. He had no idea how he had gotten so lucky. You were looking at him so desperately, he could see how badly you wanted him. And if he wasn’t sure from your eyes and your words, you were practically dripping onto your own couch in front of him. He couldn’t wait any longer, he had to taste you for himself. Jiraiya leaned forward and took the front of your panties between his teeth, pulling them down, using his hands to roll the flimsy fabric off of your legs. A practiced move he had perfected over years, but never failed him.

Watching him remove your panties with his teeth had you moaning before he ever touched your aching pussy. He watched you gasp in awe and arch your back, body begging him to pleasure you. He knew exactly what he was doing to you. He slid your panties in his back pocket for later. He knew he was a pervert, but he couldn’t help himself.

Finally, with nothing separating him from your sex, Jiraiya moved your legs over his shoulder and pressed forward, giving you a long, languid lick all the way up your slit.

His tongue was devilish; skilled and wicked. Strong hands keeping your thighs in place as he devoured you. You couldn’t stop the wanton moans that spilled from you like a waterfall, he had barely started and you were already whimpering and pulling at his hair.

“Baby you taste so good, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop. How many do you think you can take?” You could barely hear him through the sound of him lapping at your dripping pussy.

He was talking about his fingers, thick and waiting to push inside of you. They were bigger than yours, bigger than anyone’s you had been with, and fuck you wanted them inside of you.

“Two. Two. Fuck, Jiraiya, please.” You begged him, needing more and more from him despite how good you already felt.

He pushed his first two fingers inside of you, tongue still slurping around your clit. Feeling him spread you open, you felt the white hot build up of orgasm approaching. Your voice was giving you away, panting moans, barely intelligible curses mixed with his name. You tugged at his hair, paying no kind to if it hurt him or not. He certainly wasn’t stopping, nor was he complaining. He was too drunk off of your taste. He hooked his fingers inside of you, deliciously hitting your g spot.

You nearly went blind with pleasure. You were cumming before you even realized how close it was. Not only cumming, but squirting. Gushing around his fingers and into his waiting mouth. He drank from you, everything you had. Leaving you a well pleasured, panting mess above him. The heels of your feet had dug into his shoulders so hard he may bruise. But tomorrow if he woke up with any mark of you left on him, he would be a happy man. Finally detaching his mouth from your puffy, spent pussy, Jiraiya sat back on his heels, watching you carefully, licking his fingers clean.

“Ever done that before?” He grinned cockily, your squirt still dripping down his chin onto his neck.

You watched him take great pride in cleaning his fingers of your cum, “once or twice.” You told him.

“Think I can make you do it again?” He leaned over you, his hands finding your waist again, pulling you forward, against the front of his barely done pants.

You shuddered at the thought. You had read his books, you were familiar with his proclivity toward having the heroines orgasm again and again, until they were begging for mercy. You had always assumed it was fiction, and that couldn’t, shouldn’t reflect on the desires and skills of the author. But the way he watched you as you came undone for him, the way he looked down at you now, you knew it was autobiographical.

He wiped a sweaty strand of hair from your forehead, tucking it behind your ear before leaning down to kiss you again. This kiss was softer than before, he cupped your face sweetly, not tugging and pulling you into him, but holding you firm and steady against his lips. You kissed him back, finally feeling grounded in your body again. He tasted like you, you were sure you tasted like him too. The experience of letting someone’s taste overpower your own was at times more sensual and pleasurable than the act of sex itself.

Your hands moved over his back, feeling the strong muscle, the divots and grooves of his body. Your eager hands moved to remove his pants, and he joined the effort, stripping himself completely before you. He joined you on the couch, kneeling between your legs, still kissing you. You felt his hardened length hot against you, sliding up and down your slit, he reveled in the fruits of his previous labor.

“Please Jiraiya, please.” You whimpered against his kisses, reaching down to stroke him.

He was diamond hard in your hand, long, and thick. Of course he was, of course this literary Casanova had the personal equipment to back it up. You could feel his heartbeat pulsing through his erection. You ran your thumb beneath his foreskin to pull the precum from him and coat your hand to lubricate his length. Jiraiya shuddered and lifted you back onto the couch again, joining you and slotting himself between your legs. Your lips were hot against his, spit and moans exchanged in between sloppy kisses. His thick, white hair shielded you from the light in the room, blocking out everything else but him. He reached down to join your hand on his length, his eyes meeting yours to confirm consent. You nodded again, rocking your hips against the head of his cock. You moved your hands to his shoulders. Jiraiya’s thumbs spread your folds apart for him to release a string of spit onto you. Spreading the lubrication of his spit and your previous release along his length and your slitc he started to inch himself into you.

You couldn’t help the arch that your back curved into. Nor could you stop the mewl that escaped you. Jiraiya groans above you, pushing deeper. Your vision went white as he packed his inches into you. You clawed at his muscles, whimpering as he filled you.

“I know, baby. Almost there.”, he cooed, smoothing your hair.

You squirmed at his depth, how he stretched you out, how he mashed against the wall of your cervix.

“Relax, baby. Let me in, it’s okay.” He kissed your cheeks where you had scrunched up your face.

You breathed deeply, trying desperately to relax your tensed muscles. Just as you would release slightly, he would push further and you would clench around him again. Finally after much stopping and starting, he bottomed out inside of you. His hips meeting the backs of your legs, your calves over his shoulders, and your fingers gripping his shoulders.

“Jiraiya…fuck…you’re so deep.” You trembled against him.

Jiraiya panted above you, running his hand up your leg soothingly. You were holding him so tight, he was struggling to keep from fucking into you further.

“Let me know when I can move, sweetness.” He pressed a sweet kiss to the ball of your ankle, petting your leg again.

After finally accommodating his size, you nodded. He pulled back carefully to the head of his cock before sliding into you again. He began an even thrusting pace, he rocked his hips against your sweet spot inside of you. You couldn’t help the broken, nasty sounds that fell from your lips. He was setting your body ablaze with pleasure. His head fell back as he maintained his rhythm, letting out a lazy, delicious moan. You felt electric, like all the energy in your body had illuminated and was glowing. His hands traveled from your thighs to your hips to your breasts and back again. You felt as though he was unstitching your every piece, taking you apart at the atomic level. And it was marvelous, his touch was practiced and methodical, he knew just how to touch and to please you. You couldn’t control the begging pleas that spilled from you.

“Raiya, please, yes, fuck, oh” in repetition again and again.

He was similarly babbling, “yes baby, so tight, so good, good girl.”

Your sweat transferred to his skin, and vice versa, when he finally leaned over you, closing you in against the couch, you couldn’t help but keen to kiss him again. His big, strong hand pulled your hip up to meet his thrusts, and you helped him, fucking yourself up into him. Your bodies worked in perfect sync, meeting his thrusts, him moving his fingers in between your bodies to circle your swollen clit. Your voice raised in pitch, eyes rolling back as he played you like a fiddle. You had no idea earlier in the night how incredible he would be.

You felt yourself inching so close to climaxing, and you made it clear.

“Please Jiraiya, please!” You begged

“You wanna cum, pretty girl?” He smiled, pushing deeper into you, making you arch further.

“Yes! Fuck yes please. Let me cum!”

“Cum all over this cock. Make a mess for me, baby.” He choked out, circling your clit and sucking into your neck.

He pushed harder into you, the combination of his cock and fingers finally bringing you to your desperate, whimpering, squirting climax. You coated his cock and abdomen in your cum, he shuddered against you trying to keep his pace as he reached his own orgasm.

“Fuck!” Jiraiya cried out slamming himself against your g spot, finally letting his release take him.

You could feel his cock pulse, shooting his long streams of cum inside of you, painting your walls white. Jiraiya collapsed his full weight onto you, which was not insignificant, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You stroked his fluffy, white hair as he caught his breath atop you. He pressed lazy, hot kisses to your neck, collarbone and chest as he caught his breath. Minutes passed with you two locked into this embrace. Finally the weight of his body was too much, and you tapped on his shoulder, urging him to sit up. He did, pulling you up with him, having you straddle his lap so he could stay sheathed inside of you. He stroked your back, still kissing your neck occasionally. You slumped against his broad chest, feeling spent, he let his head rest against the back of your couch. When he had finally caught his breath, he tipped his head back down, holding your face in his hands, and kissed you deeply. His tongue smoothed against yours, tasting your exhaustion. He moved your hair out of your face, and looked into your eyes.

You finally found your words, “I better not read about this.”

“If you think I’m not using this as research, I hate to disappoint you…” Jiraiya laughed heartily, holding you closer.

You kissed him again, laughing against his lips. You luxuriated in his touch, his warmth, and his kiss.

Sure enough, about nine months later when his most recent book was released you rushed to the local bookstore. You found there was a dedication at the beginning reading simply.

For Cherry, Page 73.

You quickly flipped to the listed page and found the beginning of a deliciously flowery sex scene, one where the protagonist picks up a waitress and spoils her the exact way Jiraiya had done to you.

You couldn’t hide the blushing smile. That bastard.

Okay y’all thanks so much for reading! I hope y’all enjoyed! I’m nasty feral for this big bad man.

#naruto smut #naruto fanfiction #jiraiya x reader #jiraiya smut #jiraiya #legendary sannin #fanfiction #smut

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lovingapparition · 3 months ago

Text

If Would Sure Do Me Good (to do you good)

Genre: Angst, Slow Burn, Smalltown American Aesthetics

Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Reader

A retired Simon moves to town. There are vibes.

Light warning for not very subtle sugar daddy implications that will ramp up later on.

AO3 Link

Modern civilization would be all but dead and gone, turned to dust, before this guy stopped talking. He's a regular at this dingy little convenience store, in at exactly 5:15pm Monday through Friday because it's, “just down the road from my job, and on my way home!” he reminds you, over and over as if you could possibly forget after being told for the second time that week. He insists you call him Pat but you never do, he's mostly just this fucking guy in your head. And boy, does this fucking guy love to yap your ears off.

You blink rapidly, not that he notices, focusing in on his hands. They're dirty, always are, with some weird mystery grime that makes you vaguely queasy when he hands you his warm dollar bills. You think he might be a mechanic, he must have told you at some point, but information like that doesn't really stick during the evening rushes because hello dude there's like ten people behind you-

Deep breaths. You are taking deep breaths, nodding, and smiling. The guy pauses for a breath, and you pounce. “So your total’s gonna be $13.47, the usual,” with a tight smile, your jaw a little clenched. Across the counter, he hums and digs his wallet out of his pocket. He's still describing something, gesticulating with his free hand before he pulls out a few bills. Through a couple of well-placed hums and nods you manage to focus on counting the proper change from the drawer. He pockets it without recounting his bills, too busy looking right at you as he tells you to, “Have a good night. Stay warm, honey.”

Ugh.

At least the next few transactions go quick, other people also getting off work but not as willing to talk your ear off. The weather was too cold for anyone else to feel like idly chatting. Your shift was just beginning, and already you felt worn out. Working evenings into the early hours of the morning wasn't ideal, but a job is a job. You value paying your rent more than seeing the sun or having time to hang out with your friends and family, at the moment. At least your cat was always happy to see you at one in the morning.

When the first rush eventually slows down, you're able to take what feels like your first real breath since clocking in. You let your mind wander as you wipe the counters down, fill out the daily logs, and stare at the grimy spot on the ceiling that seems to grow inch by inch each time it rains or snows. It's all become a familiar routine, as horrifically boring as it is. You'd listen to a podcast or something in one ear bud if you could, but your phone barely got service inside the old building. A perk of the cheapest phone plan you could find.

The night goes without too much fuss, and when you've tidied the shelves and double-checked that your boss hasn't left any cryptic notes for you to interpret, you find yourself leaning against the counter. There's early 2000’s rock playing softly over the old speakers, and you desperately wish that your boss would give you permission to change it to anything other than 98.8 FM The Rock.

Against your will you hum along to a Nickelback song as you watch the clock tick its way closer and closer to 9:30pm. Lunch. Also known as the only time you were allowed to lock the store. Your boss doesn't really vibe with the idea of paying two people at a time, so obviously you still had to help customers on your fifteen-minute breaks.

Halfway through the song you step out from behind the counter to go lock the front door. It's dark outside, and the street lamps cast everything in a warm, rusty yellow. The unshoveled and slushy snow looks like crushed gold, mixed with the oil and dirt from the parking lot. Inside, the lights inside Mo’s Mart buzz overhead. Their sickly green cast makes you feel a little ill if you think about it too hard. Looking outside just reminds you of it. You try to not feel disappointed as you trudge back to the counter to sit down for the first time in four and a half hours.

The stool beneath you is only a little rickety, and you sigh as you lower yourself into it. For lunch you pull a bag of potato chips out of your bag. You'd bought them from the store yesterday and saved half for tonight. At a certain point the frozen burritos and hot pockets stopped being appetizing. This isn't much better, though. The chips are already going a little stale, gumming up in your molars as you chew.

You're in the middle of digging at the crevices in your teeth with your tongue, zoned completely out as you stare at yesterday's crossword section from a newspaper your boss had left out. To be without. Six letters across and it ends in T. You're tapping your pen against the paper in thought, trying to ignore the urge to check the clock to see how much time you've got left on your break. You know you've got to have at least-

The locked front door clunking in the frame snatches your attention. You sigh. There are three loud knocks on the glass. You set your pen down. Without a doubt in your mind you know you taped the handwritten, “On break! Back at 10!” sign up at eye level. When you look up and make eye contact with the man out front, this only seems to incense him. You recognize him, a regular who's never really happy about anything. Why he keeps shopping at Mo’s you'll never understand. He shouts something that's muffled through the door, like you're the asshole right now. A quick glance tells you that you've got eight minutes until the inevitably awkward confrontation where you have to let him in. You would rather sink into the tiled floor and never come out. It almost makes the rest of the break not even worth taking.

Almost.

Trying to quell the unease his presence brings, you stay behind the counter. It's your break, and it's your right to take it without having to worry about some guy who wants his convenience store snacks in the middle of the night.

When you approach the door you try to avoid his eyes, you can practically feel him staring daggers already. As soon as the lock turns in your fingers he's pushing the door open, brushing past you as he haphazardly stomps the snow and salt off of his boots. You mentally add sweeping and mopping back onto your short mental to-do list.

You count your breath on the inhale, and again on the exhale, as you walk back to the counter. The small monitor on the cluttered counter shows the store’s security cameras on three separate little boxes. You’re vaguely aware of the man hovering by the liquor section, but you can’t bring yourself to head out into the center of the store to bother him in the hopes of deterring theft, your boss be damned. His abrupt entry brought in enough cold air to make you shiver and jam your hands into your pockets. Standing behind the counter gives you an odd sense of security as the guy wanders from aisle to aisle. You know exactly where the store's panic button is under the counter should anything go away. Some cynical part of you wonders if it even works, knowing how cheap Mo is.

The door chiming as someone else enters the store jolts you out of thought. You turn your head to greet the customer and you're met with probably the scariest individual you've ever seen. He's huge, wearing a heavy black work coat that doesn't hide the bulk of his body. The fact that he's wearing a skull print balaclava is what makes it worse. This guy could be totally normal and just wearing it because it's snowing out. He could also be about to ruin your night.

He's looking right at you as he beelines to the counter.

Anxiety bleeds into your hands, makes them feel like you've just stuck them in freezing water. Slowly, you take them out of your pockets and press them flat on the counter. You watch your own fingers spread out. From some job training or another, you recall that it's worse to look into the eyes of someone trying to rob you. “Hey there,” you try and fail to sound like you're not nervous. “What can I get you?” He's quiet for a long time. Too long. Risking a glance up at him, you find he's not even looking at you. The guy is carefully scanning the rows of cigarettes behind you.

You breathe a small sigh of relief. He doesn't say anything and you don't feel like pushing your luck tonight. You scoot over to the side and quietly thumb over your abandoned crossword. With a quick glance up you can see the man running a gloved hand over his jaw. There's a faint sound of his stubble rubbing against the balaclava. His eyes are dark, half lidded. Without moving his head, his gaze flicks to meet yours, and you look away without even thinking. Bright blue. Jesus Christ this is awkward. You tap your pen against the newsprint, wishing whatever was happening right now would just end. This guy isn't a regular, and he's certainly no one you've ever seen around town. Fingers crossed he's just passing through, never to be seen again.

“Hey dickhead, anytime now!” Your head jerks up. The masked man slowly looks over his shoulder. The guy who came in earlier is cradling a bottle of cheap rum and a liter of coke, clearly pissed about the long wait. Your stomach feels like it's about to fall out of your ass. A stranger you've never seen and a pissy regular, what could possibly go wrong? Chewing at your lip, you take a step back from the counter.

“Hey Marvin, I can get you over here. Relax,” you say over the stranger's shoulder, just barely managing to remember his name. You've carded him everyone else in this town enough to remember a few faces. The giant man in front of you steps over wordlessly as if Marvin hadn't just insulted him. Wanting to get him out as quickly as possible to avoid anymore confrontation, you check Marvin out. He's still grumbling to himself, working the toothpick in his cheek with his teeth. “Have a good night. Drive safe,” you tell him as you hand him his brown paper-bagged liquor. Marvin scoffs at you and yanks his items from your hands. You try not to react as he lets the door slam on his way out.

The fluorescent lights buzz above you. Coldplay is on the radio, crackling softly. The man approaches your register, already reaching into his coat for his wallet. “I'll have your cheapest menthols,” he rumbles in an accent you've definitely never heard in town. What the hell was this guy doing in Mo’s this late at night? The vibes were sketching you the fuck out. You school your face into as neutral of an expression as you can manage and turn to reach for a pack of Marlboro Black Menthol 100’s from the shelf of tobacco products behind you. The man is looking down at your crossword, still unfinished, when you turn back to him. You were half tempted to ask where he was from. You don’t.

When you ask him for ID he hands you a card from his wallet. Upon inspection, you find that it’s a British Military ID and heavily censored. It only tells you his first and last name initials. S. R. The photo is censored as well. As far as you can tell, it looks real to you. If it’s not, then he’s gone through an awful lot of effort for the worst cigarettes Mo’s has to offer. You weren’t in the business of prying. Most everyone else who lives in town you stopped carding years ago. Over time you just know through the grapevine who has what birthdays and when. Hard not too. Regardless, you nod uneasily at the man and carefully slide his ID back to his side of the counter.

You tell the man his total and he slides you a crisp twenty, avoids touching you directly. With a quick hand, you count his change back to him. It's all very normal until he neatly drops the cash into the dusty tip jar by the register. What the fuck? The cigarettes were barely five dollars, and you're pretty sure in your entire tenure at Mo's you've never been tipped anything other than the loose coins people don't want to keep. You're in the middle of trying to figure out how to thank him when he nods to you once, and turns to leave.

Stunned, you have no idea how to react. Genuinely what the fuck was any of that? You eye the tip jar suspiciously as if the man had filled it with Monopoly money instead of enough cash to buy yourself a couple of hot meals. You entertain the idea of going to the local burger place you used to love as a kid. Hot, fresh fries and a large coke would probably fix you at least a little bit, you think. When you return to the comfort of your crossword you see in very neat, small handwriting, that the last word has been penned in.

Bereft.

The rest of the night goes without much else of note happening. You sweep the floors and mop the salt and grey sludge from the entrance. The coolers are stocked and the cash drawer is counted when your replacement arrives at two in the morning. Mo liked to keep the place open 24 hours since it was close enough to a busy highway that folks came through at all hours of the day. Your coworker, Olivier, arrives a little early so you can check them out at the register. Each morning they like to buy an energy drink in a tall pink can and whatever gummies they wanted to snack on that day. You enjoyed the little moments you got to have together. Olivier was one of the few people in this town who you could relate to. Their hair seemed to change color and style by the week, and they always had the best fashion sense. It seemed they were an expert at thrifting in a way you could only dream of. Layering different fabrics and patterns, they seemed to somehow never repeat an exact outfit.

“How was everything? Good night?” they ask, already rooting through their bag of gummies for the blue ones. You shrug, making a high-pitched noise somewhere in your throat. Olivier, bless them, immediately understands. “Did that weird masked guy come in again? He pulled in with a giant moving truck the other night.”

This immediately perks you up. “No shit?” That guy was moving here? “What's wrong with him?” you half-joke as you punch out on the register. Olivier chuckles with you, and the shared judgment over a new face in town reminds you how glad you are to have them. These small moments in the quiet hours of the morning made the town feel like it wasn't so small and empty.

As you pull your heavy coat on you look out the windows into the parking lot. The lot had been heavily salted, but it was dusting snow. You could see the suspended motes in the yellow street lights outside. Part of you was a little jealous of Olivier. This time of the morning always seemed so peaceful and quiet. You knew you’d never want to work their hours though. Waking up at midnight to get ready for work? No thanks. You wish Olivier a good shift as you pull your gloves on, before pushing out into the parking lot. The air shocks a chill into your chest as you breathe it in. Your breath puffs in a heavy cloud as you exhale. Already you could feel your fingers burning as the cold licked it’s way through your heavy layers. Awkwardly, to avoid slipping, you shuffle your way across the lot to your truck. It’s a little blue beat-up thing. How you’ve managed to keep it running all these years, you have no idea. Apparently, luck and hoping for the best are good enough for the ancient beater. It takes a couple tries to get the engine to turn over, and you sigh in relief when it finally roars to life. After idling in the cabin for a few minutes, you shift into drive and begin the slow crawl home. The roads aren’t plowed, but it’s not slick enough to worry you. The sound of snow crunching beneath the tires, barely audible over the low hum of the radio, accompanies you home.

When you pull into the driveway you can feel your shift finally weighing down on you. You turn the key and slouch down in the seat, eyes shut. Your feet are cold. Your shoulders sag under your heavy coat, but you're somehow not warm enough. The cold always finds a way in. After a few moments, you manage to drag yourself out of the truck and you make the short walk to your front door. The only benefit of small-town living was the fact that you could afford the rent on this little house. Never mind the fact that you were pretty sure your landlord lived about an hour and forty-five minutes up the highway and owned most of the houses in your street.

Your nightly routine goes without much fuss. Tabitha, your cat, is pleased that you've come home on time to refill her dish with wet food. You undress, shower, and bundle back up in your warmest sleeping clothes. The house is cold, no matter how well you insulate the windows and the cracks in the baseboards. In the dark, you sit in bed with microwaved pasta in its plastic packaging with the instructions on the side. It's not good but it warms your belly and fills you up. As you eat you scroll on your phone, lazily browsing your social media and clicking through posts. Your mind wanders to the man you saw today. He was odd, and him moving here was even stranger. In all your life you can't really remember anyone moving into the town. Mostly your friends from high school have slowly trickled out, save for Olivier. You weren't sure why you'd never left for the bigger city, you'd just never felt the pull to get out and see more.

When you sleep that night it's restless as ever. You wake up often, teeth chattering. Your cat is nestled somewhere beneath the blankets with you, and you're careful not to roll onto her. You vow to do a once over, just to see if you can stuff any more of your hand-me-down towels into the draftier baseboards. It feels like it's been winter forever now, but with Christmas barely around the corner, you knew it had just begun.

—

You start seeing that guy around town. You pass by him in the grocery store. He's got a cart full of stuff, and you figure he's just stocking his kitchen. You grab your scant groceries, milk, and some canned goods that will last. While you're in the checkout line he pushes his cart behind you, leaving a respectful amount of space. You're not really the type to engage in the painfully long-winded Midwestern custom of talking about everything you possibly can, so you don't acknowledge him. You set your items down on the belt when it's your turn, and you offer a polite smile to the cashier.

“Hey, find everything okay?” he asks, nice as you please.

“I did, thanks Carter.” He was a few grades above you back in school. He also stuck around after his class had graduated. You vaguely wonder each time about his dreams of joining the military, and whatever happened to them. Maybe it was just life that happened. You know he's got a little boy to take care of with his high school sweetheart and another on the way. Maybe that was all it came down to, at the end of the day.

Carter tells you your total and you mentally curse. You'd counted your cash twice before you'd come in the store, and you were certain you'd been doing the right math as you grabbed your items. Carter gently angles the register's screen to you so you can see the line items. God damn. You'd just plain miscalculated, probably too tired to keep it all straight in your head. You look down at the things you'd grabbed, trying to calculate what you could do without. You force a laugh. Humiliation roils in a dark pit in your chest. You find yourself speaking without thinking, “Oh whoops! Sorry, go ahead and take off the soup cans.” Carter, bless his heart, doesn't make a fuss. He punches the register keys quickly and counts the cash you hand him. You very much do not want to look at the stranger behind you. You pray to whatever god might be listening that maybe he wasn't being as nosey as everyone else was in this town, and that he didn't just hear that you can't really afford an armful of groceries.

Carter hands you your single plastic bag, tells you to “Have a good one, hon,” You speed walk back to your truck, your breath puffing in clouds around you.

–

The next time you see him you're driving to work. The radio is playing softly and your truck's heaters are blowing semi-cold air onto you. You're stopped at a light when you see the guy, dressed in a light coat and the same balaclava. He's jogging, somehow managing to work a sweat on the cold. You have no idea what kind of psychopath goes on a run in the dead of winter. When the light turns green you have to drag your eyes off of him before you accelerate through the light.

It was rare that anyone in your town went on a jog. Unheard of in the winter. You were certain the old ladies would be gossiping up a storm at church. You figured it was no different than you and Olivier at Mo’s. You smile at the thought of sharing your sighting of the masked stranger with Olivier tonight. The little chats in the quiet morning hours were a light in the dark of winter.

It was easy to get lost in the cold. It seemed all your waking hours were spent in the dark, during these months. You'd wake up later in the afternoon, always too tired to rise any earlier. It wasn't great for your mental health, but neither would being homeless. You'd take your victories where you could get them. Without much family nearby to rely on, you had to get by on your own.

The joy of adulthood.

–

You see him again that same night. He comes in around midnight. He's the first customer in around an hour. There had been a small rush of truckers passing through, trying to make it off the major highways before some snowfall was forecast to hit the area. You note that he's better dressed for the weather than he was earlier while he was jogging. He's in the same black work coat and leather gloves as before. You find it hard to meet his eye when he approaches the counter.

Something about seeing him in town made the transaction feel off in a way that you've never experienced before. Getting Janet her pack of Marlboro Reds and ringing her son Nick up for his energy drinks was never sullied by the fact that you saw them at the Sonic Drive-In in their old beater from time to time. Seeing him now with the sense that he was apparently sticking around in town made you feel strange. You didn't know anything about him besides his initials and the skull print on his balaclava. Knowing he was likely some retired military operative from a foreign country was nerve-wracking and exciting and weird as hell for your little town. You had no idea how to interact with him.

When you're getting the register open to count his change, you can't help but blurt out, “Are you liking it here?” Immediately you wish you could stuff the words back in your mouth when you see his eyes flick to meet yours. How on Earth could anyone be enjoying one of the worst winters your town has seen in years?

To your surprise he humors you. “It's nice. Quiet,” he says after a beat. You blink at him, quickly looking back down to the cash you're supposed to be counting back to him.

“Good. That's good. Folks can be weird about new people, but I'm glad you're settling in.” Oh God, you're rambling. Make it stop.

To this, he hums. It's a low sound, almost silent, deep in his chest. You suppose that's the only response you're getting as he accepts the cash. You slide his pack of menthols across the counter. Your eyes widen as he doesn’t even recount the bills you’ve handed him, just folds them once and drops them into the tip jar. Sputtering already, cheeks red with embarrassment, you search for words but find none. This had to be about the grocery store. You were completely fine. Really, you were. You get paid this week and you would definitely go back to the store and probably pick up some extra groceries. None of this is coming out of your mouth though, as the man has basically vanished already. You can hear his truck starting up outside, the crunch of the snow and gravel as it pulls out of the lot.

Guilt rolls through you, thick and familiar. You had no idea what to make of this guy. First, he blows into your dead-end town and starts leaving you ridiculous tips on the cheapest cigarettes possible? What the fuck? It makes you feel ashamed and unnerved. No one had ever given you more than the change they simply didn’t want to carry around, and you’d never expected anything more than that.

When you talk it over with Olivier that night in the early hours, they eye you mischievously, clearly very interested in the man’s motives to give you excessively large tips. “C’mon, let the guy toss you a little cash here and there, it’s a free country. He can do what he wants, even if it's to give all his money away,” they tease over the lip of an energy drink. You hang your head, groaning in response.

“I dunno… I don’t know what to make of it, is all,” you admit. That little pit of nervousness in your gut had been sitting heavily all night. Olivier gives you a pitying look.

“Don’t worry too much about it, I think you should just let it ride. And tell me all of the details.” You can’t help but choke a small laugh at their insistence on being in the know. Almost nothing new ever came to town, of course it was the juiciest thing ever to Olivier. You give them a weary smile and wish them a good shift before heading out.

–

The next few weeks are more of the same. You see the man around town, like any other local. At the grocery store, he’s always got a cart full of food, and you’re sure to hurry off out of his way with your armfuls of items. Once or twice you’ve seen him meandering around the local shops, and you sort of dread the idea of running into him at the little cafe you sometimes indulge in when you’ve got a little extra cash on hand. Something in you wanted to be protective of your favorite spots in town, but you knew it was irrational. Soon enough he would be just as familiar to the folks around here as you were.

Without fail, he continued to come into Mo’s with large bills. He’d ask you for his cigarettes, tip you far too much, and leave before you could really say anything about it. He never spoke to you more than you spoke to him and he was never anything other than perfectly polite. You hadn’t begun to have a single idea as to why he insisted on tipping so much.

Eventually, you had come to terms with his insistence on leaving all of his excess cash with you. You started squirreling some of it away, using it specifically on groceries and smaller bills. It was nice to have a little extra padding in your wallet, especially during these cold months. You definitely weren’t touching the thermostat though, that’s for sure. Old habits, and all that. It was easiest to be thankful, to not look this gift horse in the mouth, and to do your best to just keep pushing through the winter.

–

A winter storm was forecast for your town. The weatherman you’d grown up watching warned this would be one of the worst in years, and to stock up on the essentials. You knew you had about a month’s worth of cat food and a few cans of something or other in the back of your cupboards and called it good before heading to work that day. Calling out wasn’t really a thing Mo liked you to do. It didn’t help that you’d woken early today, sweating through your layers of blankets and somehow still chilled to the bone.

Getting ready for your shift had taken about twice the time. You’d taken a cold shower, teeth chattering and your stomach turning the entire time. You did not look in the mirror while brushing your teeth and getting dressed. It had to be bad, the way folks looked at you when you arrived. You were bundled up in a hoodie and an oversized flannel. There was something about being ill that just made the cold weather feel so much worse. The black K-95 mask you’re wearing isn’t doing much to hide the puffiness or dark circles under your eyes. The near-constant sniffling and perspiration aren’t doing you any favors.

Between the little rushes of your shift, you unabashedly sit on the floor behind the counter, not caring if Mo saw you on the cameras and wanted to give you a pissy little talk about it later. You hadn’t had any medicine to take at home and all the store carried were caffeine pills and Tylenol for eight dollars per two-pack. You do your best to stay hydrated, refilling a small styrofoam cup from the soda machines often. The water tastes vaguely like Hi-C Punch, and you try to not think about it. When you’re able to focus on your own hands, you see them shaking as they bring the cup to your lips.

You think it’s around one in the morning when you hear the door chime. Close to the start of Oliver’s shift, the end of yours. No one has been in the store since around eight, you think. Time has stopped feeling real at this point. Breathing heavily, you muster the strength to stand. You lean heavily over the counter, trying to wet your mouth against the sudden nausea crawling up your throat. Under your layers, you’re sweating and chilled and just so uncomfortable. Whoever’s just entered the store stomps the snow off of their boots, and you can hear their steps squeak on the linoleum straight to your counter. A quick glance up and you’re making eye contact with the masked man who has become strangely familiar to you.

You can only manage a nod to acknowledge him, before turning around to grab his cigarettes. He’d been in the night before, so you weren’t expecting him tonight. Normally his packs last him a few days. Why would he come out so late, especially during this bad weather? You can’t really bring yourself to think too critically right now, instead choosing to focus on not passing out before you can clock out and go home. When you turn around, pack of menthols in hand, you find that the man is eyeing you more intently than normal. You think? The mask made it hard to tell. Your hands are shaking, you realize it just as the cigarettes slip from your fingers.

“Fuck, ‘m sorry-” You bend to pick them up and are met with a rush of blood in your ears. When you rise you lean against the counter for a moment, eyes closed. It would later come back to you as an embarrassing moment, but currently, you’re focusing very hard on staying upright.

“You're sick,” the man says, so plainly it's kind of funny. You huff a small laugh, nodding.

“Why’re you here? Storm’s gonna get bad tonight.” It’s a poor attempt at deflecting the obvious statement. Something bristled in you at him, it was enough that he’d seen you at the grocery store. Being seen by him like this now, especially after all the cash tips he’s been leaving you, makes you feel cagey and defensive.

“I could ask you the same.” He slides you a twenty as he says this. You meet his eyes, briefly. It’s easier to look at him with half of your face covered, you realize. Maybe that’s why he’s never been seen around town without his balaclava. He meets your gaze evenly, seemingly unaware of the shame that pulses under your skin. You sniffle loudly, not looking down at the bill on the counter. You’ve got about a dozen questions for him, but your jaw is clenched so tightly you’re not sure where to even begin. Just when you’ve worked up the nerve to fire a question at the man, the door chimes.

Both of you turn to see Olivier entering the shop. They wave one mittened hand at you. “Oh hey! You’re here too, Simon. Nice to see you again.” Simon? Somehow Olivier had failed to mention his name after all this time. Admittedly, you’d never even thought to ask. He’d never introduced himself formally, and you weren’t one to pry, especially into the lives of odd men who only buy their cigarettes after sundown. Simon raises a hand to greet Olivier, the most human thing you’ve seen him do so far.

“Hey Liv,” you croak, clearing your throat a little. At the sound of your wrecked voice, Olivier grimaces at you. Already, they’re reading into their tote back and donning a mask.

“Stay over there, and disinfect the counter when you leave!” They harp, only half joking. You nod wearily and quickly check Simon’s cigarettes out on the register. It feels strange to even think of him using his first name. Simon takes his leave, and as soon as you've got your coat on you’re following right behind him, waving a quick goodbye to Olivier as you go. They’re immunocompromised, and the last thing you want is to make their life harder by getting them sick.

The snow falls heavily, immediately sticking to your eyelashes and blinding you. You drag your gloved hands over your eyes, trying to clear them. Blinking rapidly, you see that the parking lot is a smooth expanse of honeyed yellow. The street lamp makes the area look warmer than it is. You can already feel the cold sinking into your fingertips. The trees on the edges of the lot are bowed heavily under the snow’s weight. When you step into the lot, the snow is powdery soft, but icey beneath. Not good. It would be a very slow drive home once you got your truck moving. The snow is only about halfway up the tires, but you’d still need to shovel it out to give it a fighting chance of leaving the lot if you could get it started in this cold.

When you get it started.

Historically, your beloved fossil of a truck has not done well in the cold. You’d been meaning to replace the battery and get the transmission checked out this Summer. You had forgotten.

The sound of snow crunching behind you tells you that Simon has not left the lot, and is apparently watching you have your silent meltdown now. Great. “You want some help getting that snow shoveled?” It’s strange hearing him outside of the contained environment that is Mo’s. The wind changes his voice. It’s odd to be shoulder to shoulder with him, and not talk about cigarettes. Dejected, you know when to choose your battles. You nod your head and lead him to the driver's side door of the truck.

“I might need a jump, it really doesn’t do well in this weather,” you admit wearily. Simon nods like he knows that already. Maybe he did, it’s not exactly the nicest-looking vehicle anyone’s ever seen. You crank the door open and hop in the seat. When turning the engine over multiple times does nothing but pitifully crank the engine, you lean your forehead against the steering wheel in defeat. Before you can say anything you can't fight the urge to suddenly cough. You turn away from Simon, who's kind of hovering near the open door of your truck, to bury your mouth in your elbow to cough. You've honestly had enough of being gross and embarrassed in front of this guy for one night. When your coughing fit is done you lean back, exhausted, against the seat. Your throat is raw, and your entire body feels weak. The thought of shoveling out your truck and waiting on the battery to charge fills you with dread. “Fuck this, man.”

Snow has started sticking to Simon's coat, dusting white onto the black fabric. He's standing a small distance away with his hands in his pockets, giving you a decent amount of space. “You want a ride home? Can come deal with it in the morning with you, if you like.” You turn your head to regard him, thankful again for your mask to hide behind. There's plenty of security footage of him coming into the store over and over again. You supposed if he wanted to kill you there would be at least a half-decent physical description. Plus Olivier probably knew more about him, given that they're a chatterbox no matter the time of day.

Your eyes flick out to the lot. The snow shows no sign of stopping. Fuck it.

“My house isn't far from here.”

#oh hey im back #sorry for the hiatus lol #ghost x reader #cod mw ghost #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley #my writing #subtle sugar daddy stuff #idk i love angst so much??#i just want reader to be well taken care of <3

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spaceistheplaceart · 1 year ago

Text

Body Swap - The Exorcism Part One

finally done... ough. its really hard to make shigeo emote just the right amount... hes such a deadpan boy its hard to have variance over the panels

masterpost

(Please Reblog! Leave a comment in the tags! They make me very happy :)

SUMMARIZED ID: Reigen gives Mob a pep talk about speaking to other people and tells him he just has to gain experience by training his social skills. Mob is at 50% progress towards his explosion. They arrive at the clients house and Dimple leaves due to the powerful spirits inside. FULL ID UNDER CUT

START ID:

(This is a body swap, so I'll be referring to the characters as who they actually are but keep in mind that Reigen is in Mob's body and vice versa.)

"Reigen is speaking to Mob,his hand is on his shoulder and he's holding up one finger while speaking. Reigen says, "There is no set way to get along with other people. Because every person is unique- what might be the right thing to say to someone, could be the wrong thing for somebody else, understand?"

Mob looks at Reigen with a slightly awed expression. Reigen continues, "The best you can do is try to treat people with the same kindness you'd want for yourself."

Reigen smiles and leans over a bit, putting his free arm up on his knee that's perched on the curb. His other hand is still on Reigen's shoulder. Dimple is sitting to the right of Mob on the curb, with two little legs dangling over the edge. Reigen continues, patting Mob on the back. "More than likely, they're feeling just as awkward as you are! Nobody's got it all figured out- it only seems that way because you're not seeing the bigger picture of their lives."

Reigen holds up two fingers, smirking confidently. "People who are really good at talking to others benefit from common sense and experience." He gestures his hand out and shrugs a little dismissively. "And while you don't have common sense," He points at Mob, smiling widely again. "You can get experience!" He places his hand over his mouth in thought. "You're still in that exercise club, right?"

"Mhmm." Mob replies. Reigen points at him. "How much can you lift right now?"

Mob looks a little embarrassed, averting his eyes with a slight blush on his cheeks. "mm... 35 pounds."

"And how much could you lift when you started?" Reigen asks. Mob looks back to him, eyebrows raised slightly and a sweatdrop on his cheek. "20." He answers.

Reigen beams and holds up a finger, gesticulating. "That's a huge improvement, right!? But that's only because you trained everyday."

He tilts his head slightly downward, lopsidedly grinning, and confidently looks at Mob. "You have to train your social skills too, remember that."

He continues, "Hey, why don't you start helping me with consultations every once in a while? We can start small."

Mob's lips are slightly parted and he looks at Reigen in slight awe. "It's like training...?" He thinks to himself. He smiles, eyes shining and nods. "Yeah."

PROGRESS TOWARDS EXPLOSION: 50%

A transition panel of the top of a taxi, just showing the 'taxi' sign on the top of the car as speed lines go across the panel horizontally.

Mob and Reigen stand outside the clients house. It very boxy in shape with a square roof and garage. The windows are in triplets and shaped like rectangles. There is one small tree in front of the house. The double doors are framed by an angular archway and are dark. Above the archway is a semicircle window. Outside is a square, brick, fence.

Reigen knocks on the door. Hiroto opens the door. Reigen looks up at Hiroto, the camera angle makes him seem smaller. He is smiling up at him with his customer service smile. "Good evening, Mr. Hiroto!" Reigen greets.

Hiroto crouches down, hands on his knees, and smiles at Reigen. "Good evening, young man. You're right on time!"

"Come on in." He continues. Reigen keeps his smile, but it's tighter and strained now. There's an angry pulse symbol on his forehead. He heads inside with Hiroto. Mob stays stood outside.

Mob looks behind him at Dimple, who is floating away. "Dimple? Are you going somewhere?"

Dimple turns to Mob. "Yeah. I can tell there's some pretty powerful spirits in there so... I'm gonna steer clear for now."

He shrugs, smiling in a lighthearted manner. "Would've been fun to see Reigen try to use your powers, though!"

"Oh." Mob says.

Dimple's lightheartedness lessens and he looks a little unsure. "But... uh... if you need me... you know how to reach me, right?"

Mob nods, smiling slightly.

Dimple floats off, waving behind his back to Mob. "Alright, good luck. And don't let Reigen get your body killed! You don't wanna be stuck looking like that forever, ahaa!~"

END ID

#mob psycho 100 #mp100 #comic #reigen arataka #mp100 body swap #dimple #op art #shigeo kageyama

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graysparrowao3 · 4 days ago

Note

i'm thinking. Maybe Rolan is in heat. And the infuriatingly flirty and handsome Zhent guy who keeps trying to get discounts might be populating Rolan's horny thoughts. Maybe Rolan asks this Rugan guy if he'd like a...ah, mission. a very special mission that would imply them locked into Rolan's room for three days

Oh ho ho, what a message! Well this is new for me! You sure are thinking thoughts... Thank you for sharing them! ... Now I'm thinking them too...

Interesting… two of my favourite blorbos, conveniently in such an improper situation…🤔 Hope you don’t mind, I had a play around with how such a discussion might go. Hopefully it's got the same sort of vibes you were thinking too!

Summary: Rugan wants a discount. Rolan wants release. They come to an agreement.

Words: 1,108

Very suggestive, not outright explicit.

A bead of sweat laced down Rolan’s neck and tickled as it slid beneath his collar. He tried to adjust the fabric, but little good it did. He was burning from the inside out, infernal resistance be damned.

His entire damn body was pulsing in knots; a bottled up rolling thunder threatening to detonate. Instead of having the company or decency to take care of it, he was trying desperately to concentrate through the steam in his head and take stock and procure items and take payments. Then a figure appeared at the entrance of Sorcerous Sundries; sandy hair tied back and an infuriatingly charming smile pulling at the lines around his crystal eyes.

Just who he did not need to be putting up with right now.

The human strode through the wide, open double doors like his balls hardly fit and deposited himself at the counter, lounging against it and ignoring the fact that Rolan was still finishing a transaction with another customer.

“Y’alright, gorgeous,” Rugan winked.

Rolan blew frustrated air from his nostrils as he completed the exchange and cast his eyes sideways over to the annoyingly handsome interruption. “I suppose you imagine that might actually work one of these days?”

“You are a tease,” Rugan clicked his tongue. “Go on, be an absolute gem and do us a favour.”

“I’m not sorry to say I shan’t. Are you actually going to be making a purchase this time or shall we skip forward to the part where I demand your swift departure?”

Rugan made a show of patting the firm sides of his waist. “Alas, I seem to find myself tragically short in the coin department.”

“I’ll attempt not to be overcome with disbelief,” Rolan muttered, letting his eyes linger far too long where the human’s fingers rested on his lean body, dangerously close to the tempting creases where his thighs met his groin. “I see you are once again under a misconception that this is not a place of business where goods and services are available for purchase.”

Noting the direction of the wizard’s gaze, Rugan’s own eyes narrowed as he studied the tiefling. The desperate glisten on his skin, the hungry flare in his eyes, the awkward shifting between his feet to hide the discomfort of his need. Oh, now this he could work with.

Rugan let his tongue wet his lips as his lilting voice danced indecently across the space between them. “Looks to me like I’m not the one in need of said goods and services.”

“I’ve no idea what you could possibly mean,” Rolan said dismissively.

“Now I could be wrong,” Rugan’s voice lowered as he leaned over the counter, “but something tells me you’ve need of a man well-versed in his trade.”

Rolan raked his eyes up and down the worn leather and tight straps that outlined the human’s body. He didn’t realize the tip of tongue also flickered across his lips. “You are a mercenary of some description?”

“Aye,” Rugan lip pulled into a lopsided smile. “Let’s go with that.”

“Then I’ve had more than enough of you and your compatriots.” Rolan snapped his head towards the open doors of the establishment, and Rugan followed his sightline.

In the courtyard outside some loud gobshite with a rat’s nest on his head wouldn’t shut up about the song of the night or some such rubbish. Rugan shook his disapproving head. He turned back to the wizard and gestured with his hand to emphasize his point. “What you need is a professional.”

“If only there were such a thing in this Godsforsaken city.” Rolan’s tongue hung deliciously on the sibilance.

“You’re in luck,” Rugan rolled his shoulders and braced himself on the counter in a way that made his biceps strain against the material of his sleeves and his chest strain against the leather. “A consummate professional. At your service.”

Rolan indiscreetly adjusted his robes. “What I want would be a paying customer.”

“Said I don’t have the coin,” Rugan stared up, his bright eyes meeting the fire in Rolan's. An obscene smirk could be heard in his voice. “Didn’t say I wouldn’t pay.”

A deep maroon flared across Rolan’s cheekbones and he turned away. He covered his flush of flaring need with a cough, missing the smirk that flashed across Rugan’s face. When the wizard turned back, he paused, one nail tapping incessantly on the counter surface.

“Perhaps…" Rolan said, slowly. "I could find a task for you. A contract, if you like. Unofficial. Unaffiliated with Sorcerous business.”

An indecent smile grew on Rugan’s lips. “Now you’re talking. Always best when things are on the smart side of official.”

“I could…” Rolan cleared his throat, then raised his chin to maintain some essence of dignity. “Use a hand. Personal matters.”

The way one of Rugan’s brows raised in a suggestive curve was not subtle. “You don’t say?”

“I imagine a professional might find other suitable ways to go about it.”

“Oh, I imagine you’re right about that.” The Zhentarim agent’s wicked grin broadened.

“Then we’re in agreement. In exchange for a selection of items of your choosing,” Rolan swallowed. “You will… assist me.”

“I can only imagine what such a notable purveyor of his craft might need assisting with,” Rugan let an elbow rest on the counter and leant his chin on his fist as he crooned across it. “Consider me your dutiful apprentice.”

Rolan imagined he’d be calling the man a great many things in the near future, though that would not be among them. He found the sharp attitude that often clipped his voice, a flare of arrogance to cover his indignity. “I'm quite the particular employer, I expect your undivided attention. It may take some time.”

Rugan reached forward and hooked a finger under the cool, silver curve of Rolan’s mantle. He jerked it down, forcing the wizard’s head towards his. Rugan leaned close, his tone low and gruff as his rough cheek grazed against the tiefling. “It’ll take as long as I say it will.”

Rolan’s face burned as he was released from the Zhent’s grip, a hand instinctively against his heaving chest, desire hard between his legs. He blinked for breath, then turned around and called out across the echoing chamber of Sorcerous Sundries. “Due to unforeseen circumstances, we are closing immediately. Management does apologize but you must depart the building at once.”

The patrons had not quite all left when an impatient, stern hand smacked firm onto Rolan’s backside.

“Hope you’re as tightly wound as you look, sunshine,” Rugan’s breath was hot on his ear. “Because I’ve got one hell of a shopping list.”

#bg3 rolan #bg3 rugan #bg3 aradin being a knob in the background lol

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ciaomarie · 7 months ago

Text

Part 1: What then?

Some seemingly innocent, but truly mind-altering information is shared in a staff meeting.

Short fan fic. Low-key Sydcarmy/The Bear fluff. Post-season 2. Canon-compliant.

Location: The Bear

Time: 10:05 a.m.

The restaurant had closed lunch service on a Tuesday for a "Development Day". The Bear had been open for 5 months and had a 2 month wait list! After Family and Friends when they had all banded together the Bear crew had gotten tighter than ever. Carmen had been a outsider in his own restaurant for a couple weeks, but soon the dust settled. Even Sydney came around after 3 weeks of his patient groveling. The duo was good and soon The Bear had become one of Chicago Tribune's "Best New Restaurants." However, with success The Bear was changing fast. They had hired more full-time front and kitchen staff, which was great. The downside was that "respectful communication" and "customer complaint management" was waning a little. Things were not terrible, but Richie for whom Ever set the bar in hospitality, The Bear should always be improving, not sliding backwards. Natalie, Carmen and Sydney agreed. They also wanted to discuss new menu changes and a to-go system they would be testing soon.

"Okay, people! Let's get started" Natalie said beckoning everyone to take a seat at the front of house.

Richie stood next her "casually dressed" in a button down blue dress shirt and dark grey slacks.

He began, "As you know The Bear is on track to paying off the loan and we're the freakin' toast of the town right now, but this is not the time to take a nap. We gotta keep our eyes on the prize. So first, up facial regulation as known as RBF awareness."

Natalie tapped his shoulder and whispered, "Richie, I love your enthusiasm, but I thought we might start with an ice breaker?"

He shrugged and continued, "But Nat, has a ice breaker. Take it away".

Natalie resumed.

"So, first we want to thank each of you for being part of this dream and making it fun, rewarding, and successful. As you know The Bear is a family business and since there's new faces here we'd like to get to know you better and vice versa. We'll start with a quick round of "Best and Worst". Just pick a question out of the cup and answer it. Please keep your answers to 2 minutes."

The first question went to Randall, a young man in his early 20's with dark curly hair and thick glasses that frequently fogged in the humid kitchen. He was the new assistant pastry chef.

"What was the best place I ever lived? Hm…Guam. My dad, Army, was stationed on the base and I lived there from age 9-11. I had like 12 friends just on my block and we were always playing soccer, swimming, or riding our bikes. It was awesome."

"Thanks Randall!" Natalie chirped.

The next went to Tina.

"Ok…what is worst advice I've ever been given? Keep your head down and do what you know. That's the advice I used to give myself. Thankfully I didn't listen because now I'm a sous chef!"

Sydney who was sitting near the front between Gary and Carmy, beamed at Tina who returned the smile with a little moisture in her eyes.

The next question went to Marcus.

"Best moment in the last year? It was training at Noma, in Copenhagen. It was my first international trip. I got to stay in a houseboat, explore the city, meet cool people, and figure out that I wanted to do this maybe forever."

The last several months had been really hard due to Marcus's mom's passing. He had returned to work after a week of mourning citing that he knew she wouldn't want him to sit at home now that she was no longer sick. Despite that he was getting better every day and had come up with several new popular dessert specials. Tina was seated next to him and patted his arm.

The next few questions went to new dishwasher, Chris, Fak, and then Gary.

Sydney drew the next question and winced upon reading it. It wouldn't be possible to lie because Marcus already knew the truth.

"What was my best meal ever? Well…it was this pork confit with onions and rhubarb. Then after I had this dish called Milk and Honey."

She kept her eyes plastered on the tiny strip of paper while she spoke. In her peripheral field she could see Carm turning slightly towards her, his cornflower blue eyes boring two holes into the side of her head.

"Sounds grand. Ok, Carmy pick a question" Richie ordered wanting to get down to business by 10:30am.

Carmy didn't seem to hear him. He was on another planet.

"Yo cuz, pick a question!"

He startled and drew a question.

"Uh ok. Best part of my day? Hmmm. Closing up."

It was now Sydney's soul's turn to exit her body. Every night, with few exceptions, she and Carmy ended the night in his office to debrief on the day, perform last checks, and close together.

After a moment she felt his eyes still glancing at her. Without turning she whispered, "Later." The last thing she needed was to look at him, and forget how much time was passing, giving Richie yet another reason to tease them. Not long ago he gave them matching copies of a workplace relationship etiquette tip sheet stapled to an OSHA industrial hygiene handout before leaving them to close.

She sighed, trying to compose herself. It was no big deal. So what that Carm knew he was responsible for the best thing she ever ate? Also, they're partner-friends so it's totally normal that his favorite time of day when is they are together…alone. Right?

UH OH.

#the bear #sydcarmy #sydney x carmy #carmy the bear #sydney adamu #carmen berzatto #carmy x sydney #carmy berzatto #syd adamu #fan fiction #it's a love story #brain rot #they are so cute #if they can just stare some more in season 3

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buckingham-truther · 3 months ago

Text

Chapter One

Characters: Robin Buckley & Chrissy Cunningham. Background Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson

Summary: Just a cute little coffee shop AU

Word Count: 1056

Warnings: None for this chapter

A/N: This story is very much a work in progress, I have almost no plan for it and so please keep this in mind when reading future chapters. The warning may appear as the plot develops.

The gentle hum of the coffee machine and the talk of customers over it allowed Robin to get too far into her head over the disaster of a date she had been on last night. Becky had been lovely enough but Robin wasn’t sure anything would come of it, something just wasn’t right between the two and she didn’t seem to appreciate Robin's sense of humour.

Steve had been lovely enough and had cut his nightly facetime with Eddie short when she turned up after it, bottle of wine in hand. He assured her that if someone was worth her time she wouldn’t need to hide any part of her. That ‘ her person’ wouldn’t cringe when she stumbled out of the door at the end of the date. She felt bad for interrupting his and Eddie’s evening given that Eddie was on tour and this was one of the few evenings he wasn’t on stage but it was an unwritten rule that Robin came first for Steve and the band came first for Eddie.

A jingle from the bell above the door pulled Robin out of her thoughts and she stepped towards the counter and looked up, into the most beautiful blueish grey eyes she had ever seen set into what only she could describe as the face of an angel with a halo of strawberry blonde hair.

“Wow,” She whispered, “Welcome to Bakin ‘n’ Robins, what can I get you this morning?” Robin asked finally, after what she was sure was too long of a pause.

“Erm can I just take a hazelnut latte with almond milk please? And maybe whatever your favourite from the bakery section is” the woman smiled and didn’t that just make her even more stunning..

“Sure, coming right up. It’ll be $6.70 when you’re ready, cash or card?” Robin said as she tapped it all in the till, she was so glad this was all muscle memory at this point because she was sure there wasn't currently a thought in her head aside from how gorgeous this woman was.

“Card please” The woman smiled again and tapped her card on the reader when Robin indicated.

“Take away or to sit in?” Robin remembered to ask before stepping away to make the order.

“I’ll sit in please, this seems like a super cute place to sit and read” she said, patting the book Robin had failed to notice in her arms.

“You go and find a seat, I’ll bring it over to you” Robin nodded towards the selection of tables they had.

“Table service too, thank you.” she giggled and walked away.

“Who was that?” A voice came from beside her as she started to make the coffee.

“Jesus Christ!” Robin quietly exclaimed, almost dropping the mug she was holding, “Do you need to sneak everywhere?”

“I literally dropped the opening on the counter so hard,” Steve, her partner in this coffee shop, laughed from beside her. “So, who is she?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never seen her before but she’s super pretty ok so I’m naturally going to do something like spill her drink all over her or drop her baked goods on the floor. Or even forget how to speak as I get there and just throw the whole tray at her and run” Robin started to ramble.

“Okay okay stop right now” Steve interrupted her, “You sort her the rest of her order and I’ll do the latte, I’ve got you sorted okay” he winked at her nudging her out of the way with his hip.

Less than 5 minutes later Robin was walking towards the blonde trying her best to hold the tray as steady as possible. She had found the biggest and freshest almond knott and Steve had made a heart with the milk on her latte, it was a perfectly solid heart too, he was just showing off now.

“Oh, thank you” The woman squeaked as Robin placed the tray down, it seemed to have pulled her from a deep thought. “This all looks wonderful” She grinned when she looked down and saw the latte.

“Enjoy” Robin smiled as she walked away.

“I can’t believe you did the heart!” She hissed as she got behind the counter again, smacking Steve lightly on the arm as she walked past him.

“Did she like it though?” he grinned “She watched you the whole time you walked back and she still keeps glancing over, I think you’re in there birdie. Anyway I need to start prep work on the pastry for the next batch of baked goods. Can you do the stocktake of the things behind here and I’ll get El and Max to do the stockroom tomorrow afternoon.”

“Sure, I’ll get that done and make sure it’s all okay for Dustin to come in to take over from me.” She replied.

“Thank you,” he said loudly as he walked from behind the counter and to the back where the kitchen was. His pride and joy, the reason he wanted this all along.

Robin spent the rest of the day thinking of the women from that morning. Trying to think if there had been any clues as to who she was or anything else about her.

“I’ve got a present for you,” Steve declared as he walked into her apartment one evening a few days later, before throwing a small package at her.

“Thanks,” She mumbled as she tried to catch it.

Opening it up she noticed it was a name badge, her name was written on it along with her pronouns and a tiny lesbian flag on it.

“Oh, this is so cute, thank you” She said as she launched herself at him.

“I’ve heard that the blonde from the other day has been back a couple more times, only ever getting take-away after looking around. I figured it wouldn’t hurt to let her know your name and that she’s got a chance. I’ve had them made up for all of us. I really liked the idea when I saw them ages ago and just kept putting it off. I felt like the pride flags around the place were enough to let people know we’re a safe space but you and this girl gave me the excuse I was looking for to get these” Steve shrugged.

#buckingham #robin buckley #robin x chrissy #chrissy x robin #stranger things #bandcheer #coffee shop au #Lattes and Love #fanfiction #sapphic fiction #buckingham fiction #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic

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temptingfatetakingnames · 9 months ago

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The Last Steve Harrington Part 15

AO3 Part 1 Part 14

Steve woke up Friday morning feeling fully recovered. He had spent the last few days with aching muscles so it was a huge relief to get out of bed without pain. He was glad because they were having a barbecue tonight to send off Johnathan, Argyle and Nancy who were heading back to the city tomorrow. Nancy was out of school for the summer but Johnathan needed to get back to his business and Argyle only had so much time off from his job.

He and Johnathan hadn’t got too close while he was home. Steve was hesitant to reach out and the feeling seemed mutual. They talked a bit about his photography business and Steve told him about Family Video. Mostly they talked about how much customer service sucked and how crazy people’s demands were. Steve didn’t mind that they hadn’t managed to bridge the distance between them. He was still overwhelmed with the kids, Robin, Eddie, Hopper and Joyce. Him and Nancy were… okay – parting on good terms at the very least. They would have time to get to know each other better.

Inhaling deep, he let the breath out slowly.

He had time.

Joyce was already busy in the kitchen when Steve walked downstairs. Johnathan and Argyle were probably still sleeping and he figured Hopper had already left for work. Will and Eleven were eating cereal like little zombies at the table. They both looked up, cheeks full, and smiled as he sat down. He had been really excited to tell everyone about Stephanie and the parallel universe he had learned about but had promised Robin he wouldn’t say anything without her, so he had been waiting. Patiently. Very patiently waiting. He couldn’t wait to see Dustin and Eddie’s faces.

“Morning, Steve,” Joyce said as she turned around, wiping her hands on a towel. “How are you feeling?”

“Really good actually. All better.”

She came over and settled a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I’m glad! But take it easy still, hmm?”

Steve nodded and looked away from her kind eyes, reaching for the cereal box. She patted his shoulder and moved back to the kitchen counter where various vegetables were waiting to be chopped.

“What’re you two up to today?” Steve asked the kids.

“Shopping with Max. I want a new dress for the party tonight.”

“I’m helping Dustin with Cerebro.”

“Sounds fun,” he said and smiled at them.

They both nodded and went back to shoveling cereal into their faces as fast possible.

“Bye!” Eleven shouted as soon as she finished drinking the sweetened milk from her bowl.

“See ya later!” Will said as he scraped his chair back from the table and ran out.

Then it was just him and Joyce. He looked over at her furiously chopping vegetables and could tell that she was stressed. There was going to be a lot of people coming over and she probably had a lot she needed to get done before they arrived.

“I’m gunna shower and then I’ll help you get ready.”

She looked over her shoulder at him. “Oh, I’m fine! You should rest.”

“I’ve rested enough. Let me help, Joyce. Please.”

She set her knife down and turned fully towards him. Her hair was a little wild and her eyes were tired. She worked too hard. He didn’t know what she saw on his face that made her relent but she softened and said, “that would be great. Thank you.”

He nodded and noticed a small smile on her face as she turned back to her vegetables.

On his way to the bathroom, he grabbed a towel out of the linen closet. He hung it up and turned on the water before he looked at himself in the mirror, his good mood disappearing in a flash. He hated his reflection. It was difficult to meet his eyes, but he forced himself, bringing his face closer and closer to the glass until he could see every detail. He never knew how much people saw Steve or saw him. He hated it.

“Fuck you, Steve.”

Stepping back, he removed his clothes and took in the ruin of his chest next. His wounds had healed but it still hurt to look at them. He ran his fingers lightly over the raised and jagged marks on his side. Most of them looked better, whatever the doctors had done to clean them up had worked but… Not these. There had been nothing they could do for these. Too much had been bitten away… and too much time had passed.

A reminder that not everything could be made better or wiped clean. That some things just stayed…jagged. Broken. Ugly.

Turning away from the mirror, he quickly stepped into the shower, hoping the hot water would soothe away the awful pit in his stomach.

The rest of the morning and early afternoon were spent cooking with Joyce. He was quiet at first, still stewing in ugly thoughts, but she was slowly able to coax him out of it. She was just so damn happy, despite everything they had to get done and he found it hard to maintain his brooding in the face of her joy.

The kitchen was warm from the oven’s heat so they opened the windows to let in a lovely cross breeze. They talked a lot and laughed a little and moved around each other with a comfort that Steve had never experienced before. He and Max used to cook together sometimes, but her energy had been chaotic in the kitchen. She didn’t like to listen to instructions and Steve always had to clean up her messes, not that he had minded…much. He had missed cooking with someone else. He had missed cooking.

Johnathan and Argyle came down and had breakfast before they left as well, off to enjoy their last day in Hawkins.

When they were finished making all the food that Joyce had planned Steve asked if it would be alright if he made chocolate chip cookies. He had perfected his recipe over the years and they were his favourite thing to bake.

“Of course!” Joyce replied enthusiastically. “How did you learn to cook like this?”

As he gathered the necessary ingredients Steve explained, “my parents were gone a lot so I learned how when I was pretty young. Simple things at first, but I got better over the years.”

“What did you make?”

“So much pasta! Boil noodles and heat up some sauce? It was the easiest thing I could think of. It was a real game changer when I figured out the barbecue in high school.” Steve chuckled a little to himself. “I think I made burgers or hot dogs every meal for two weeks.”

Joyce didn’t laugh. “You were alone that much?” she asked instead.

He shrugged. “My dad was always gone on business trips and my mom went with him. I was fine, they always left plenty of money.”

As he started to whisk the dry ingredients together, he felt Joyce’s gentle touch on his shoulder.

“They shouldn’t have done that, Steve. I’m sorry you were alone.”

He blinked down at his bowl. It felt like such a long time ago now, living in that big empty house. He remembered the first time his parents left for a week at a time. He was thirteen and scared, but just like anything else – it got easier with time. And he wasn’t always alone. Freshman year, he met Nancy, Johnathan and Barb. Then the kids and Eddie and Wayne and Steve spent less and less time in that big empty house.

But… even with how full his life became with the family he chose there was still a hole in his heart from his parents. He didn’t think they were malicious or bad people… they just didn’t care. Too busy living their own lives to worry about his.

“No,” Steve agreed. “They shouldn’t have.”

Joyce gripped his shoulder tighter and he reached up to pat her hand.

After a moment, she slipped away and started tidying up the kitchen as Steve made his cookies, feeling that hole fill up a tiny bit more.

---

Max and Eleven came back first, but they disappeared upstairs with their bags after both exclaiming how delicious the house smelled. He and Joyce smiled at each other, nibbling on still warm cookies. Johnathan and Argyle arrived next, Nancy in tow. Joyce quickly put them to work setting up the tables and chairs outside. Hopper walked in the door with a loud exclamation of how long and tiring his day had been, leaving to shower just as Will called to say he was getting a ride with Dustin in a bit.

All of the cooking was done so Steve went back to his room to change. Opening the middle drawer on his dresser, he stared at the options. Joyce had taken him shopping the first week he moved in, getting him everything he could possibly need. Most days he didn’t give a shit about what he looked like… but today felt different. He wanted to look good.

He grabbed out a pair of jeans and the collared button up shirt that Joyce had insisted she get for him. It was dark blue and made of a light material that felt amazing on his skin when he slipped it on over his head. He tucked it into his jeans and cinched his belt as he moved into the bathroom. His hair looked good and healthy but he hadn’t tried to style it since –

Well, since everything.

He grabbed the hairspray Dustin gave him and got to work, trying to remember just how he used to make it look so effortless. It took longer than he would like to admit and it wasn’t exactly how it used to be, but it was close enough. Taking a deep breath, he stepped back and couldn’t quite believe his eyes.

He looked like –

Himself.

His skin was tanned from spending more time outside. The shirt showed off his arms, and the jeans hugged him in all the right places, and his hair fell perfectly, curling just a little onto his forehead. He looked…good. For a brief moment he considered ruining it – messing up his hair and taking off the nice clothes.

“Hello, Steve,” he said instead.

Joyce was back in the kitchen, wearing a red sundress, when he went downstairs. She was mixing cut up fruit and sprite into a large pitcher.

“Would you get the ice trays out of the freezer?” she asked as she looked over her shoulder. Her eyes widened when she saw him and she froze.

Steve clenched his jaw as she walked over to him, emotion filling her eyes as she racked her gaze over every inch of him. Her hands patted his shoulders, smoothing the fabric of his shirt.

“Oh, Steve,” she said with a watery smile. “You look great.”

The doorbell ringing saved him from having to respond, and he ducked out from beneath her hands and went to answer it.

Standing on the stoop was Robin and Eddie. He must have caught them having some kind of argument because Robin had her arm around Eddie’s neck and was in the process of hitting him in the stomach. They both froze as Steve opened the door and he fought back a sigh, taking in the two of them. Robin was wearing jean shorts, a nice summer blouse with a vest over top of it covered in buttons and a weird hat that was tilted sideways on her head. Eddie was decked in his usual attire of black jeans and a faded band t-shirt. Judas Priest, Steve could barely make out. They looked back at him, eyes wide and he hoped with his entire being that they wouldn’t comment on his appearance. He didn’t think he would survive the day if everyone looked at him like they had seen a ghost.

“Your hat looks funny.”

“It’s a beret, Steve.”

He blinked at her. “Your beret looks funny, Robs.”

She stuck her tongue out at him and released Eddie from her headlock.

“No Wayne?” Steve asked as they moved inside.

“He’ll be by in a bit. Wanted to drive himself so he didn’t have to wait for me and Robin.”

Steve nodded and they walked through the house to the back door. Johnathan, Nancy and Argyle had done a good job getting everything set up outside. Tables were lined up against the house, covered in the food that he and Joyce had spent the day cooking. A few umbrellas were scattered around with lawn chairs under them, offering a place to sit and hide from the sun and a stereo played music at a reasonable level.

Eleven came out of the back door in a light blue dress that ended just above her knees and had a white bow around the waist. It wasn’t what she usually wore, going for comfort and utility most days to keep up with the boys. Her hair was still short but she had curled it so it framed her face nicely and Steve could see a hint of makeup on her cheeks and lips. She was holding the pitcher of fruit punch, with Max just behind her holding the cups. She was wearing baggy shorts with a striped tank top. Her hair was long and wavy down her back and she had the same hint of makeup on as Eleven.

Everyone trickled in slowly over the next hour and the yard filled with the people who had been brought together by The Upside Down. There were a few awkward moments when he said hello and they took in his appearance for the first time, but they moved on quickly, probably noticing his discomfort. The gremlins fell on the food like ravenous little beasts, and conversations broke out in small groups. Hopper and Wayne were busy at the barbeque, talking about sports. Murray was with Joyce and Nancy, discussing his latest conspiracy theory. Eddie was trying (and failing) to convince Johnathan to change the music station. He was sitting with Robin under one of the umbrellas when Argyle came over.

“How are your feet, my dude?” he asked.

Robin quirked an eyebrow as a smile took over Steve’s face at the secret question.

“Still uncomfortable, but a little better every day.”

Argyle nodded and clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Better every day is the best we could hope for.”

“You should get new shoes if they bother you that much,” Robin said looking at his very normal sneakers.

He and Argyle traded a glance before they burst out laughing.

“You’re right, Robs,” Steve said, still smiling. “But they’re really not that bad.”

She pursed her lips at him but her eyes were soft. A large gust of wind blew through the backyard, causing laughter as paper plates were torn from unsuspecting hands, hair was whipped into faces and mouths, and hats were tossed off heads. Steve smiled, watching the pure chaos as everyone ran around trying to catch everything and put it back where it belonged.

“That came out of nowhere! There hasn’t been any wind all day,” Robin said with a bit of laughter in her voice as she went to find her hat.

Sorry. Her beret.

Every time she got close, the wind would pick it up again and move it just beyond her reach. Steve watched her struggle for a moment before he went to help. The wind was still tossing things around and it proved especially difficult to pin down. After a few minutes, they were breathless and laughing as it continued to escape them. Robin had her hands on her knees, taking a rest as Steve ran half bent over so he could scoop it off the ground.

It came to a rest at Eddie’s feet and Steve skidded to a halt, falling back on his ass in an attempt not to tackle the other man. He looked up from his position on the ground to see Eddie haloed in sunlight and beaming a dimpled smile down at him, holding out a hand to help him up.

Pretty, Steve thought and felt his cheeks warm. He shook his head quickly and grabbed Eddie’s hand, letting him haul him back to his feet. Once he was up, Eddie bent back down to grab Robin’s beret and Steve rubbed at the back of his neck in embarrassment. Hoping Eddie didn’t notice the redness in his cheeks.

“I can understand Robin having a hard time catching this, but not you,” Eddie said to him with a smirk. “That was painful to watch.”

“I heard that!” Robin said as she came up on Steve’s side, reaching out to grab her beret out of Eddie’s hand and angrily positioning it back on her head.

“That was crazy, it felt like the wind was out to get us.”

Eddie snorted and a targeted gust whipped his hair wildly into his face and he spluttered as a bunch of it went into his eyes and mouth. Steve and Robin laughed maniacally as he attempted to get it under control again.

“Told you!” Steve said, still chuckling.

Eddie squinted at them, holding all his hair in his hands. As suddenly as it came, the wind disappeared, creating a moment of stillness and silence. Johnathan, Nancy, and Argyle came over to chat about their trip back to the city and Steve settled back a little to listen. He could tell that they were all going to miss each other and that it had been a long time since they had all got together like this. Like a family.

He couldn’t help but wonder about the parallel universes out there – If they were all having a backyard good-bye party too – and if they were… how different it felt because he wasn’t there. Which brought his thoughts to the Eleven’s he had met and if they were just then telling everyone about him – passing on his message.

He couldn’t wait anymore. Robin was beside him and he gave her a little nudge and raised his eyebrow in question when she turned to look at him. She caught on to what he was asking and nodded excitedly.

“I had another Eleven visit,” he began, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Who told me about a very different universe from ours.” Conversations drifted off as they all came closer to listen.

“Most of the Eleven’s I’ve met have all been pretty similar, but this one – ” he trailed off, letting the suspense build. “Well, he showed up at Family Video when me and Robin were working.”

“He?” Hopper asked with surprise.

Steve and Robin nodded and everyone’s eyes widened.

“And he wasn’t the only one who was different. Their Robin is a boy named Rob and their Steve was a girl named Stephanie.”

“Wait… so, we were all – ?” Dustin started and then coughed. “Opposite genders?”

“Yup!” Robin replied with a pop.

Their minds were as blown as Steve was expecting. They all started talking at once, asking about their alternate selves and their names. He and Robin made them guess, just like Eleven had. Most were easy – Max, Mike and Erica figured theirs out right away. Some took longer than others and by the end there were only three names they couldn’t figure out – Dustin, Wayne, and Eddie, as predicted.

“There is no female equivalent to Dustin! It has to be an entirely different name,” Dustin reasoned.

“Almost every name we’ve figured out has followed the same pattern. There must be a girl’s name starting with a D that we haven’t tried yet,” Will replied firmly.

“Argyle was Gayle though,” Nancy said. “Maybe there isn’t a pattern.”

“Daisy!” Joyce suddenly guessed.

“My alternate mom, or dad I guess, better not have named me Daisy…” Dustin muttered.

“Winnie!” Murray suddenly called out from the side, pointing at Wayne.

“Correct!” Robin yelled like they were playing a game show.

“Oh, Aunt Winnie!” Eddie said and draped himself across Wayne in a dramatic fall as his uncle rolled his eyes.

They all continued to guess girls’ names that started with D and E, but they were quickly running out of ideas.

“Dus-tin, Dus-tin,” Erica was quietly repeating to herself. “Tin. Tina. Tina?”

“Yes!” Steve exclaimed with a smile, only a little surprised that she had managed to figure it out.

“Tina!?” Dustin spluttered.

Lucas nudged him in the shoulder playfully and Mike bellowed out a laugh.

“Shut it, Michelle.”

“You shut it, Tina!”

Steve immediately regretted giving the kids this ammunition to use against each other. He knew that Michelle, Tina, Willa, and Laura were going to be hurled around as insults for the foreseeable future. They all quickly turned back to trying to guess Eddie’s name, going through all the same options as Steve and Robin had tried a week ago.

Robin looked over at him and he nodded, they weren’t going to get it. Even though Gayle and Tina didn’t follow the letter pattern, those names still had some connection to the originals. Lucy Munson just had to be different, just like Eddie Munson, Steve thought.

“It’s Lucy!” Robin exclaimed.

“Lucy!?” Dustin repeated. “That doesn’t make any sense at all!”

“That’s what we said,” Robin and Steve said at the same time.

Eddie had gone eerily quiet beside them. Steve hoped he wasn’t self-conscious about the name, Steve thought it was pretty.

“Who doesn’t love Lucy?” Eddie said with a sudden grin.

“Better than Tina,” Dustin muttered and everyone laughed.

---

The whole day had been so good.

The sun had shone brightly and there was delicious food and laughter and Steve joined in like he would have before and it was… good. Easy. He felt like himself again. When he finally went to bed that night, it was with a lingering smile on his face.

But –

He really should have known better.

Part 16

@just-a-tiny-void @mx-jinxous @child-of-cthulhu @awholedamnmesstbh @phoenix0bird @bookworm0690 @estrellami-1 @a-gae-af-racoon @nailbatandfreak @novelnovella @meela86 @lenathegay @vampireinthesun @penny00dreadful @questionablequeeries @espressopatronum454 @r0binscript @seths-rogens @fruity-nerd @sani-86 @n0-1-important @swimmingbirdrunningrock @ellietheasexylibrarian @manda-panda-monium @paintsplatteredandimperfect @viridianphtalo @goodolefashionedloverboi @13catastrophic-blues @newtstabber @queenie-ofthe-void @tinytalkingtina @hbyrde36 @whole-moods

- So sorry for the delay on this one! -Bit of cliffhanger here, I hope the next chapter wont take me as long - I do have a good portion of it written up already and HOOO BOY. -As always, please tell me your thoughts and feelings! I love hearing from you all!

#steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #steve x eddie #eddie munson #multiverse #angst with a happy ending #slow burn #the last steve harrington

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d1strxct · 1 year ago

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𝑨 𝑻𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝑳𝒂𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒆𝒓

𝑵𝒊𝒓𝒂𝒏 “𝑳𝒊𝒇𝒆𝒘𝒆𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒓“ 𝑷𝒓𝒖𝒌𝒔𝒂𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒆𝒆 𝒙 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

an: a silly little lifeweaver fic that no one asked for (i want him so bad). enjoy!

You tiredly staggered into your small apartment and let out a deep sigh. Finally, you were back home from what seemed like the longest work shift ever. Your feet ached and your mind was frazzled by the overwhelming amount of rude people. Dealing with ignorant and disrespectful customers was not your strong suit.

You tittered on the edge of a migraine and rubbed at your temples while hastily kicking off your shoes. Making your way to the couch, you wanted nothing more than to relax and enjoy the night.

And who a better person to spend it with than him.

Niran quietly walked into the living room, coming from the bedroom to investigate the sudden noise. He chuckled softly when he saw you laying face down on the couch, one arm hanging off of the cushion. A warm smile painted his face as he stepped towards you, his footsteps lightly pattering against the carpet.

A gentle and warm hand touched down on your back, landing flat and rubbing up and down soothingly.

“Rough day at work, dear?”

You nodded against the cool surface of the couch, sighing contentedly as Niran’s hand rubbed out the knots in your lower back. You turned your head to peek up at him, half of your face smushing into the cushion. He wore a pretty grin that made you tiredly smile up at him.

“I’ll go make some tea, love. You lay right there and look beautiful.”

And that’s exactly what you did.

Almost ten minutes later, you were still laying on the couch. Your eyes were half closed and you were about to succumb to sleep when the sound of light footsteps brought you back. You slowly opened your eyes and watched as Niran set down two cups of warm tea on the table in front of you.

“Sit up, love. Tell me about your day.”

With the help of your lovely boyfriend, you got into a comfortable sitting position next to him. He leaned forward and carefully grabbed your cup, handing it to you. You took it from his hands and blew on it before taking a small sip. The warmness of it made you significantly more awake and you smiled to yourself. One of Niran’s arms wrapped around you and you rested your head on his chest.

“Alright, now what happened at work today?”

You sighed and closed your eyes for a second, the memories of today's events flooding into your mind. Your tea sat comfortably in both hands as you started speaking.

“Well, two of our registers shut down at the same time. Tons of people were waiting in each line and half of them wouldn’t stop complaining. Not to mention there were only four of us working at the time. This lady threw a fit like it was our fault they went down. I was on my feet the entire time and my back was aching from carrying heavy loads. It was hot and humid and exhausting and I-“

“Hey, hey. It’s okay. It’s over now. You got through it.”

You hadn’t noticed your voice growing louder with each passing second until Niran stopped you, rubbing your arm delicately. You took a deep breath and let it out, calming your mind and listening to Niran whisper sweetly into your ear.

“Customer service isn’t for the weak, darling. It takes a lot of mentality to do that, and because you’re so strong, you get through it. Ha, I could never work in customer service. I’d give them the same attitude back and get myself fired. And hey, it’s the weekend now, so you don’t work! We can sleep in and relax all day tomorrow.”

He placed a small kiss on your forehead and affectionately squeezed you closer to him. You chuckled and tilted your head to give him a hearty smile. He always knew just what to say to make you feel better, and you couldn’t be any more grateful.

“That would be lovely, Niran. Thank you. Ugh, I’m starving now. I’m gonna go get my leftovers.”

Niran didn’t say anything, slowly unwrapping his arm from around your shoulders. You sat your tea on the table and patted his leg affectionately, giving him a small smile before standing up. You walked into the kitchen and made a beeline for the fridge, where the leftovers from last night’s dinner awaited you. Opening the refrigerator door, you set your eyes on where you had put the container last night.

Except the container wasn’t there anymore.

You narrowed your eyes slightly and made a confused face before looking around inside. Maybe it got moved around somewhere? Niran must’ve put it in a different spot and you just weren’t seeing it yet. But after almost a minute of searching, you still didn’t find the leftovers. Shutting the refrigerator, you turned around to call out to Niran.

“Hey, love? Where are the-“

Turning around, your eyes landed on the kitchen table, where a container stared back at you, empty. You stopped midway through your sentence, standing lifeless in the middle of the kitchen. Those weren’t your leftovers, were they? Upon closer look, you saw a fork laying next to it, and what appeared to be little crumbs of yesterday's dinner.

You entered the living room again, your face expressionless and dark. Niran sat on the couch still, looking anxious with a nervous smile. A guilty smile. The two of you stared at each other for a moment, before you slowly opened your mouth. You spoke calmly, but it was monotone and quiet.

“Niran, did you eat my food?”

He recognized your blank expression and quickly jumped up, putting his hands out in front of him defensively.

“I-It isn’t what it looks like! I swear!”

That’s all you needed to hear before you lunged for him.

“Niran Pruksamanee, you are so dead!”

As soon as you took a step forward, he yelped and clumsily took a step back, almost tripping over his own two feet. He quickly rounded the couch, standing behind it while you were in front of it. His throat bubbled up with nervous giggles, the smile growing wider and guiltier looking. His eyes pleaded for forgiveness on their own, but you were having none of it.

You shifted towards the right side of the couch and Niran moved to the left side, keeping both of his hands on the end of the furniture. You stared intently at him, your gaze fierce and sparkling with a sense of mischief Niran had seen before. And it usually didn’t end well for him.

“Wait wait wahahait! Please, l-let’s just talk about this!”

“Ohh no no no” you started, “you’ve said enough.”

Instead of chasing Niran around the couch and going back and forth, you got the idea to jump over it instead. When Niran was standing behind the middle of it, you quickly leaped over the couch. With a shriek, Niran pivoted around the couch and took off down the hallway. You had to contain a laugh from his girlish scream and quickly ran after him.

Since the apartment was small, there wasn’t much space to run around everywhere. You were able to use that to your advantage and catch up to him pretty quickly. He made a beeline for the bedroom and just before he could reach it, you jumped onto his back. He yelped and lurched forward. One of his hands came up to make sure you didn’t fall. He was already in enough trouble and didn’t want to add fuel to the fire if you got injured.

You wrapped one of your arms around his neck, careful not to choke him, and put the other one around his torso. Your hand rested on his hip and felt him tense underneath you. Niran poured out pretty giggles and shook his head, trying to walk toward the bed. You smirked and brought your lips close to his ear.

“You can speak in laughs for me, pretty boy.”

Deciding not to waste any more time, you instantly went in for the kill. Your thumb latched onto his hip bone and pressed in, your other fingers sneaking to the back of his side and mercilessly squeezing. Niran was in hysterics immediately and let out beautiful laughter. You knew that this was one of his worst spots, and you also knew that he deserved no mercy.

You already felt him crumbling underneath your hip squeezes and watched as his knees buckled. He slowly fell to the ground and you used this as an opportunity to get him onto his back. You quickly got off of his back and fought his defending hands to get the upper hand.

With a few more squeezes to his waist, you managed to lay him on the floor face up and straddle his waist. You gathered his wrists in your hand and held them above his head, basking in the giggles that spilled from his mouth. Now that he could see your face, you put on your best angry look and narrowed your eyes at him.

“Any last words, thief?”

“I hahahave to admit, it was pretty gohohoohahaHAHhaha!”

Your fingers landed on his side, rapidly pinching up and down. He threw his head back against the floor with a bright smile, laughter barreling through his chest. His arms tried to crash down against his sides, but you managed to keep them up. Behind you, his legs kicked out uselessly and he stomped his feet against the carpet.

“I can’t believe,” you pinched his hip, earning another squeal, “that you would eat MY leftovers. I mean who does that?!”

Niran shook his head through loud and hiccupy laughter. You watched as he scrunched his nose and crinkled his eyes out of reflex. It took everything in you not to show the big smile that was hiding behind the ‘bad cop’ facade. His laugh was as sweet as gold and glazed in honey. His small hiccups and wheezes were only one of your favorite things about it. You wouldn’t trade it for the world.

And what a perfect opportunity to hear it in all its beauty!

“Nohohohahahaha! I’m-hah! Ihihi’m sahahahahaharry!”

You shook your head and tsked, bringing your hand up to his ribs and prodding in random spots.

“Nuh-uh. It’s too late for apologies. You should’ve thought about that before you decided to steal”

Niran squirmed around like a fish out of water and squeaked at each prod to his lower ribs. His lower ribs were more sensitive than his higher ones and you made sure to take your time to find each sensitive spot. You were methodical and fast-paced as you dug your fingers into each bone, watching his reactions intently.

Usually, when you and Niran got into playful attacks, you started slow and teasing. You would lightly trace his waistline to make him giggle and move to his sides to get a few squeals out. Those fights had a ninety-nine percent chance of ending with you on the ground a laughing mess, as Niran was always one to seek revenge right after.

But you made sure to change your tactics tonight. Starting with hip squeezes always made him a crumbled mess on the floor. Boisterous and bubbly laughter flowed out of him like an open ocean. His wide smile was bright enough to light a thousand rooms. You enjoyed the way you could make him squirm beneath you with a simple prod to one of his most ticklish spots. Continuing on the rougher side would tire him out quicker, so your chances of ending up in his spot were slim.

“Ihihihit’s nohohot stealing if Ihihihi mahade it!”

“Okay, fair point. But it still doesn’t give you the right to eat it without even asking!”

Niran was lost in laughter at that point. Your fingers skittered up to the backs of his ribs. He tried turning his body to the opposite side, but your wiggling fingers followed, not once letting up. You noticed him trying to form words and quickened your fingers. A snort escaped him and you couldn’t help the small smirk that formed on your lips.

“Hmm? What was that you were trying to say, thief?”

“IHIHIhihi’m sahahrry! I’m sorry, pahaha-please!”

“Please what, huh?”

Before he could get anything else out, you climbed your fingers back down and spidered them onto his stomach. He sucked in a breath, and you felt him tense underneath your hand. His laughter dropped to high-pitched giggles and you thought this was the perfect time for some teasing.

“You know, I’ve had a very stressful and long day today. I couldn’t wait to get home and eat my oh-so-delicious leftovers and relax with my oh-so-beautiful man. But come to find out, you had eaten them all! Do you not love me anymore? Are you against me somehow?!”

He was about to giggle and wheeze out a response when you shushed him, giving a squeeze to the side of his stomach. Any words about to come out of his mouth were quickly replaced with a bark of laughter.

“Ah ah, I said no apologies. Looks like I’ll just have to find something else to eat. I could really go for some fruit right now. Do you know what kind, Niran?”

His eyes almost shot out of his head at hearing your words. He blabbered out pleas’ and scrambled to pull his hands down. In his giggly and weakened state, he wasn’t able to get far in bringing them down and laughed louder in anticipation. You smirked down at him and tried not to laugh at his nervousness. You stopped skittering your nails against his stomach and slowly pulled his loose shirt up until his stomach was fully shown. You watched as it quivered underneath your fingers and smirked down at him.

“I could go for some raspberries! And I see an oh-so-beautiful man,” you trailed your eyes down to his stomach and gasped, “with an oh-so ticklish tummy all for me!”

“No no noho no! Pla-plehehease! Nahahaha, Ihihi CAHAhahahn’t!”

Niran’s laughter got more frantic as his squirming increased. Instantly, you lowered your mouth to his stomach and blew a raspberry. He screamed and threw his head back, falling into a never-ending pit of never-ending laughter. His legs kicked and hit the floor repeatedly. You blew raspberry after raspberry until his laugh was barely audible, his smile threatening to split his face in half.

You decided to give him a break when you saw the darkest shade of maroon paint his cheeks and tears form in his eyes. You sat up and smiled down at him, keeping your grip around his wrists. He sputtered out giggles with a big grin and took in deep breaths, his chest heaving up and down. Your hand came up to his face and he flinched, giggling even louder and attempting to move his head away. You cooed and teased him.

“Aw, did you think I was gonna tickle you again? Stop giggling and hold still!”

Niran relaxed a little when your hand wiped the small tears from the sides of his cheeks. You caressed your thumb against his face and booped his nose, earning a tiny giggle as a reward. You grinned and lowered your hand to his neck, fluttering your fingers against the side of it. He squealed and twisted his head, trying to evade your ticklish touches.

“You’re just too ticklish for your own good, Niran. Look at how flustered you are!”

“Stahahahap teheheasing. I ca-ahahaha-can’t!”

“Can’t what?”

“Ihihi cahan’t tahake it!”

Your fingers moved back to his stomach and lightly skittered all across it, keeping him in a state of airy giggles and squeaks. The smirk on your face never faded.

“Awh, you can’t take the teasing? Or the tickling? Maybe both? Either way, I think you can! And I think you deserve it too.”

Niran shook his head and babbled out protests again. You giggled innocently and prodded his side a few times, basking in the precious laughter it gave you like he was the sun. Slowly and teasingly, your hand spidered up his side, making sure to hit all of his sensitive spots on the way up.

He sucked in a breath through his teeth and squirmed around. You smiled and brought your fingers up to his armpit. Niran squealed at the feeling and giggles escaped his mouth. They raised in volume when he noticed the evil look on your face and he shook his head wildly, his eyes begging yours not to continue.

“Ohoho gohohosh. Plehehease nohohot there!”

“Where? Here?” You poked his armpit with a single finger. “Or maybe here?” A squeeze to his ribs. “Or what about here?” A skitter of fingers on his neck. You left him a giggling mess on the floor. He was squeaking and squealing like a child and you loved every second of it.

“Ohh, you meant here!”

Quickly, you let go of Niran’s wrists and shot both of your hands into his armpits, scribbling your fingers into the hollows. Niran outright screamed and threw his head back, diving headfirst into cackles and snorts. His arms crashed down by his sides and his back arched before falling back down. He tightened the space between his arms and his torso, trapping your wiggling fingers further in his armpits.

“NAHAHAnohoho! Ohohohhoho my gahahahad! Stopstopstahahahap!”

His torso shook with mirth as you deepened your fingers, making sure no sensitive spot went untouched. You switched between digging in and lightly skittering, keeping him on edge the entire time. You poked, prodded, and wiggled your fingers wherever you could. Niran made it easier for you by giving you no room to take your hands out. You giggled with him (and at him) and leaned down to blow a raspberry against his neck, getting a shrill squeal out of him.

“IHIHIHI’M SAHAHORRY! I’m sahaharry! Nohohoho mohohohohore!”

“Are you really sorry?”

“YEHEHEHES! Mehehehercy!”

You stilled your fingers and hummed in thought, looking down at him curiously. Niran gasped for air and let out tiny hiccups of laughter. He slightly relaxed and you felt his arms loosen, so you flexed your fingers. He squealed and squeezed them to his sides again, giggling up a storm and breathing heavily. You laughed and maneuvered your hands out of his armpits, receiving a few squeals and chortles.

Niran hugged his torso and looked up at you with a face as red as an apple and a smile as bright as a star. His chest heaved up and down as he caught his breath. You rested your hands on his hips and scooted down to sit on his lower legs, spreading them open slightly. Your hands traveled to his thighs and stilled on top of them, massaging them gently to calm him down.

“Y’know, I’m not sure you’re really sorry. I think you need one last bit of convincing.”You smirked down at him and lowered your voice. “After all, you always have to make sure a thief is punished properly.”

Without letting Niran fully process what you said, you found vacancy on his inner thighs and squeezed rapidly and mercilessly. Niran almost ascended into the heavens with how hard he started laughing. He squeezed his eyes shut tight and threw his head back, kicking his legs out like a fish out of water. You knew how much of a bad spot this was for him and you had no shame in using it to your advantage.

Niran’s hands raced down to grab yours, but since he was so weak with laughter, he didn’t attempt to slap your hands away. Boisterous laughter turned into hiccups and shrieks the longer you continued. You kept one hand on his inner thigh to skitter all across it and brought the other one lower to his knee, where you repeatedly squeezed the top of it. The different sensations made him fall into silent laughter and you could tell he couldn’t take it for much longer.

“Do you promise not to eat my leftovers ever again?”

Niran nodded slowly, tears threatening to fall down his face again. His stomach ached from laughing so much and his cheeks were sore. His entire face was painted red and he barely attempted to squirm around, telling you he was at his limit. You grinned and stopped your merciless squeezing to lightly spider your fingers across the tops of his thighs.

“Are you one-hundred percent positive you will ask for permission next time? And not steal them?”

“YEHEHEhehehes! Just-ahahaha-stahahahap! Plehehehahah-“

You hummed in triumph and stopped tickling him for good. You got off of his legs and sat beside his head, running your fingers through his hair while he caught his breath. Residual giggles spilled from his lips and you giggled too, gently getting the knots out of his tangled hair. The two of you sat in silence for the next minute or so, the occasional giggle escaping him. When he could finally function again, he tilted his head up to look at you.

“Thahat was ehehevil and sadistic. I didn’t you hahad it in you.”

You shrugged your shoulders and chuckled, smiling proudly.

“I had to teach you a lesson didn’t I, love?”

“Yes, you did. And I promise I learned it!”

“Good, because you’re making me dinner now.”

Niran sighed with a soft smile on his face and nodded. You giggled and booped his nose before standing up and reaching a hand out to him. He took it with grace and you helped him off the ground, keeping a hand on his arm in case he got too dizzy. Once he stood up, the two of you made your way back into the living room. You took a seat on the couch and relaxed while Niran walked into the kitchen, starting dinner for the two of you. You turned on the television and got lost in a show playing.

About thirty minutes later, Niran walked into the living room with two plates full of your favorite food. He sat them down on the table in front of the couch and you excitedly sat up, bringing the table closer to you so you could eat. It smelled delicious and you couldn’t wait to dig in. You looked up at Niran with starry eyes and smiled.

“This looks amazing, love. Thank you.”

He grinned and sat down next to you, instantly starting to dig into his food. You did the same and moaned in delight at the taste. Niran grinned and put his fork on your plate, trying to sneak a piece of your meal onto his. You quickly grabbed your plate and moved it away from him, narrowing your eyes and smirking.

“No way, Niran! This is all mine.”

He laughed and held his hands up defensively.

“Okay, okay! I’m not allowed to take any of your food. Noted!”

After the two of you finished dinner and cleaned up the table, you both laid back on the couch together and watched the television. Niran wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you closer to him. You rested your head against his chest and brought your legs up to lay out on the couch. You felt so warm and safe around him, as he was like a big teddy bear.

A little while later, you two were still cuddling on the couch. Your focus was completely on the show, so you were distracted for the most part. A yawn from Niran broke you out of your focus and you looked up at him, a smile on your face. He softly grinned at you, tiredness evident in his eyes. You patted his chest and made a move to get up.

“Let’s go to bed, love.”

He nodded and brought a hand up to stifle another yawn. You chuckled and slowly started to break out of your cuddle with him, only to be gently pulled back down by a firm hand on your waist. You looked back at him with an eyebrow raised and noticed the small smirk on his face. He pulled you in closer so his lips were right beside your ear and he tiredly whispered.

“You’re lucky I’m too tired to get you back right now. You’re in for it tomorrow morning, darling.”

#overwatch tickling #tickle fic #sfw tickling community #sfw tickling #lifeweaver x reader #i used my own work experiences in this #i need all of you to feel my pain

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