#i found him too nice and too perfect when reading it originally

[slasherwrites-lemonmilk]

𝓗𝓸𝓻𝓻𝓸𝓻 𝓢𝓵𝓪𝓼𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓢𝓬𝓮𝓷𝓪𝓻𝓲𝓸𝓼 (𝓧 𝓕𝓮𝓶! 𝓡𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻)

(Includes Freddy (1980-1990s), Jason (1980s/2009), Michael Myers (RZ!), Ghostface, Leatherface (1970's Bubba, 2000's Thomas Hewitt), Art the Clown, Pennywise (1990s and 2010s), and Pyramid Head)

Intro: Established Relationship: The boys walk in on their s/o wearing their clothes.

Jason Voorhees - 1980's

You were sitting on the couch of the familiar cabin you now called home, the air outside was nice--too nice. That meant your beloved camp-revenger boyfriend Jason was out more frequently dealing with the rogue college kids on break. To pass the day by you had decided to clean the cabin up a bit, make lunch, and mend some of Jason's torn clothing. You had noticed that he opted out of his usual tattered leather jacket--something he rarely goes without. Examining it further--you found a bunch of holes, and you had the perfect color thread. You spent the next few hours stitching the jacket carefully, afterwards you just had to try it on yourself.

Call it the Crystal Lake

Cause you're swimming in it.

Great timing--Jason's home!

This man can't take his eyes off of you, I mean--you're so small in his jacket. And it's his jacket, you're standing in the living room--in his jacket.

Immediately his large rough hands roam over your body, half an hour ago those very hands slaughtered unwanted trespassers, and now they held the same gentleness one would use with a baby. He didn't talk, but the way his hands roamed the jacket on your figure--and the way you smiled at him made his heart melt. He used little actions to show you how he felt, he'd slowly been learning sign language--but actions always get his point across.

He would proceed to cuddle you for the rest of the day, only letting you take his jacket off if you got too hot.

He'd scoop you into his arms, holding you close--you're still wearing his jacket--as you softly read a book out loud for the two of you.

2009 Jason Voorhees

This man had a long day--a group of rowdy college kids interrupting his evening with you. He had just just gotten home, his deep lumbering steps ringing throughout the under base of the campground. The underground tunnels were originally hard to navigate--but you learned overtime, countless lectures and reminders from Jason--but you learned.

When he reached the ending tunnel to your large shared bedroom, there you were--curled asleep on the bed swallowed up in his old tattered blue flannel. He just stood there for awhile, watching you with an overwhelming feeling of comfort, seeing how much you missed him while he was gone. Eventually he lumbered over to the mattress, crawling in beside you carefully and scooping you gently into his chest. His large calloused fingers gently running over your scalp and through your hair as you slept, deep rumble-like hums sounding softly through his broad chest.

Also doesn't talk either--so expect him to tell you you're adorable by cupping your cheeks, giving you so many more shirts and jackets you can wear too. He'll even dress you himself and mash together outfits he thinks you’ll look cute in!

Most of them are god awful--but some actually slay?

Okay fashion icon

What are you wearing? Jason Voorhees.

You give him fashion shows--and you swear his face goes red under his mask, even if he huffs and denies it silently.

He's actually so sassy for no reason.

Rob Zombie! Michael Myers

(Teehee I'm in love with Tyler Mane from 2009 istg--AND he's my favorite Michael and I love him--this one's lowkey a self-write)

Michael was a man of few words--most believe none, but rest assured he speaks when he finds it necessary. He didn't own a lot of clothes, so you never minded doing his laundry in his childhood home--(You bought the house and restored it--just for him)

But imagine this man's shock when he comes home to find his small little s/o dancing around cleaning the kitchen--in one of his shirts.

Feral.

Literally feral.

Foaming at the mouth at the sight.

Sure--it was just a plain old, white t-shirt that miraculously wasn't blood-stained, but on you? It was everything to him. The way it draped down your body, spilling past your skin like a waterfall.

Fuck.

He wanted you.

Michael Myers was a man of many things, he was The Shape, The Boogeyman, The Incarnation of Pure Evil--but a patient man he was not.

So of course he'd immediately have his way with you--but then of course he'd take care of you in his own weird way.

"You look divine." In that deep scratchy voice he only graces you with. That's all you would get out of him--probably for the next month or so. With actions--he'd gently rub circles around your back--he'd 'pick up' a few more clothes and shirts, just to share with you.

Overtime you notice his closet gets...fuller? Eventually you pick up on the reason why, and after that it's over for Mikey--Cause now you'll wear everything he owns. Coveralls, boxers, tanks, shirts--nothing's off the table.

Art the Clown

Another mute...

UGHHH-Yeah he won't talk to you.

Like man is genuinely committed to the bit 24/7

OH YEAH--Anyways~

Art would be coming back from washing up when he'd see you wearing his clothes--more specifically--trying on the man's clown costume. He'd stifle any laugh that might escape and watches as you strike pose after pose in the mirror. He'd carefully watch you with those mischievous dark eyes, watching the way his costume rolled off of your body, pooling on the floor in your smaller stature. After all--he was very tall (David is 6'2) and he tended to tower over you.

My goodness you were so stinkin' cute.

He'd finally let you know he was there with a small 'toot' of a horn--causing you to jump and spin around.

He'd make really dramatic gestures at you, practically shouting how cute you were without using words.

Lots of polaroid's are taken of you in his costume--you can't escape it. (I hc that he's a polaroid nut)

He steals shirts for himself that he thinks you would love to steal wear. Always in blacks and whites, its his brand after all.

He may not talk, but he makes sure that his actions speak volumes.

1970s Leatherface

Honestly, he'd be so flustered if he caught you in his clothes. His first thoughts about how cute and small you were compared to him--watching how his shirt practically drowns you.

He wouldn't let you go, not even for chores. How could he? You're too cute!

He'd dress you up in all of his clothes-and showing Luda Mae every single one of them. Hoyt would probably hurt sexist comments as you--or target an insecurity, and though Bubba never stands up for himself--he stands up for his s/o.

Bubba would tell off the whole family in angry and displeased grunts and whines, possibly breaking furniture as well just to prove his point.

2000's Thomas Hewitt

(Oh my god I'd climb this man)

Thomas would have been coming back from the slaughterhouse when he spots you--curled up on the couch beside Luda Mae, mending some of the family's clothes.

But what caught his attention--was the fact you were curled up--in one of his button ups and a blanket.

This poor man tripped and stumbled his way over to you, soft, loving, and excited grunts all leaving his throat as he thudded over to you.

He'd fall to his knees, sitting eye level with you, his large calloused and worked hands caressing your cheek softly. He doesn't talk very much--but he manages to croak out a few deep words for you in that moment.

"You're beautiful..."

Expect him to lend you a lot more clothes--and if you really want to work him up?

His apron.

Imagine him walking into your room, and all you're wearing is his large apron. It doesn't even cover your body--it's so big its slips right off.

Pray to God the family isn't at home-he wouldn't let you be quiet.

Freddy Krueger

He didn't notice when you managed to snag one of his infamous red and green sweaters-but he noticed when you started wearing it to sleep.

Appearing in his well-known boiler room, sitting there-waiting for him in his own large tattered sweater. He chuckled lightly when he sees you, his eyes tracking up your body and he can't help but call out.

"Sweetheart--you're too sneaky for your own good~"

He'll shower you in playful but sincere compliments, but he will not keep his hands to himself--so beware. Every touch will be gentle yet sensual, he does know how to take his time surprisingly.

He'll make you feel absolutely stunning in whatever you wear--actually.

He will not keep it PG-13.

So now--you only wear his clothes when you want dick.

Ghostface

He doesn't mind when you steal his clothes, actually, he looks forward to it. He loves watching his shirts slowly go missing, and he loves randomly walking in from a blood bath--to see you swimming in his favorite shirts on the couch, waiting for him to get home.

"Look at my pretty baby, all comfy on the couch~"

Of course he only wears scary movie fandom shirts.

You get bonus points if you can tell him facts about the movies he doesn't already know about--team that up with wearing his shirt?

Pregnant. (sorry lolz)

As a funny little haha joke--he actually starts taking some of your clothes.

You'll walk in to find him sporting one of your shirts--amazed he could fit in it at all.

He thinks it's the funniest shit ever.

Pyramid Head

He has hundreds of old-bloodstained-tattered white muscle tanks to choose from, if you don't mind that kind of thing that is. If you don't--great!

He's in the middle of lifting weights when he spots you walking past his in-home gym. Somehow--through the metal on the pyramid shaped helmet on your boyfriend's head--he can see exactly what you're wearing.

And the way it naturally hugs your body.

Well- he's done working out now.

He follows you back to bedroom, watching you sit in bed watching TV from the doorway. Eventually making his way over to you in long strong strides, his eyes raking your body--in his shirt. Look how tiny and fragile you looked.

Daddy Bear mode activated fr

You'd be off limits--not even the nurses can see you dressed like this. You're all his. His hands would roam your body over his shirt, or play lightly with your hair. You're his Princess afterall.

Pennywise (2017)

He came back from his sewer hideout back to your shared home, and walked in on you wearing the fluffy ruffles of his costume collar (which explains why he couldn't find it earlier) and you had done a recreation of his makeup.

Were you...

doing an impression of him in the mirror?

(nerd----me too)

This man did a silly little head tilt, watching you before he let out a string of amused giggles. Of course he's going to mock your impression of him--but then he'll help you master it. You're his s/o, if you're gonna do something--do it right.

He himself will be the one to force you into the entire costume, gushing about how cute you are all the while. He doesn't really own any other clothing, besides maybe an undershirt or two--so you don't have many options to steal borrow.

So instead he'll let you sleep in his costume's (washed) long sleeve undershirt. Petting your head and whispering compliments to you the whole time.

He's so whipped for you--but he'll never admit it.

Pennywise (1990)

Poor Penny

He's an old grump half the time--and an old whip with corny perverted dad jokes the other half.

Also--are you trying to give him a heart attack?

I mean...

There he was--complaining about how you didn't finish the laundry and he couldn't find his suit--until his golden eyes locked onto your own, before trailing down at your outfit.

He thought his heart would stop right then and there-

There you were, taking pictures of yourself in the clown's costume--frozen in place as you both stare at each other. Pennywise taking a cautious step forward as his eyes remained fixed on his outfit--on your body.

"Penny?"

Your worried tone snapped him out of it--quickly scooping you into his big arms, he'll ruffle your hair playfully and pepper kisses over your face annoyingly.

"You look so itty bitty, love~"

I'll be so honest--he'd definitely take dirty pictures of you in his costume if you let him (or not)

[hope-ur-ok]

I will admit that I didn't care for Jason originally, in fact its why I never finished the lost hero as a kid, but he really grew on me throughout mark of athena and in house of hades the way he reacted to Nico being outed made me genuinely like him as a character. I knew he was going to die, it was one of those plot points I picked up at some point though I couldn't tell you when (no one in my family has read the trials of apollo series), and yet even being prepared for this didn't make reading his death easier. This is what always happens to me, even in rereads, I know the characters' fate, but I get attached anyway and then get really sad when the story plays out how I knew it would.

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Harvest Moon

Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Pairing: Jackson Joel Miller x Female Reader Word Count: 3,100 Summary: It's Joel's birthday and you're going to make sure he has a good one. Warnings: smut, fluff, dancing in the kitchen to neil young, unprotected p in v, public-ish sex (but under a blanket), talking to neighbors while sitting on joel miller's cock, apocalypse birth control (pulling out), fingering, riding, joel has a filthy mouth, no use of y/n, not beta read.

A/N: I spent most of tonight adding 2,500 words to this barely written piece. Now it's two hours past my bedtime, but HAPPY BIRTHDAY JOEL MILLER!!! This can absolutely be read as a standalone, but, this is yet another singular smut entry for my Elks babies. This was originally going to be posted as a birthday celebration chapter for that, but I really wanted to give Joel his gift on his actual birthday. Happy birthday you gorgeous old man, you. Hope you like the porn I wrote about you. ❤️🥴

Masterlist

🌕🌕🌕🌕

You’ve been looking for the CD since you learned of Joel’s love of the song. Tommy did it, he actually did it. Somehow by some miracle he found the CD. 

“Not a problem,” he gives you that same shy Miller lopsided grin. “Milt had it. Told me to tell you it’s yours to keep… said he owes you since you were his daughter’s favorite teacher ‘n all.”

“Thanks Tommy,” you say, barely being able to contain your excitement, “this is going to be amazing.”

“Of course. Should be thanking you really,” he shrugs. “It’s about time he had a good birthday.”

—

Joel said he’d be helping fix one of the greenhouses today, but you’re still scared to ruin the surprise as you unlock his door. 

“Joel?” you yell out into the quiet, seemingly empty house. 

No answer. Perfect.

Quick steps lead you to his CD player, the same one he first showed you how much he cared for you with. Now, it’s your turn to show him just how much he means to you. The disc tray opens and you place the CD into the system, you can’t wait to surprise him. 

—

“More coffee?” you ask, holding up the percolator.

He nods and smiles, happily sitting at the table full from the steak, potatoes, and cornbread you made him. He had insisted on sharing the meat, but you refused, happy to let him enjoy the first taste of steak in over twenty years.

Your friend Helen got her boyfriend Greg to cut a small filet of steak from the newly butchered cow. She handed it to you with a knowing smile. It’s nice to see everyone accept yours and Joel’s relationship. 

You lean over his lap, and top his coffee cup off. 

“Have I ever told you how much I love seeing you in a dress? Can’t believe you got yourself all dolled up for me.” He surprises you by pulling you onto his lap. 

“Careful!” you shriek, quickly placing the carafe on the table. “Yes, you have… many times. That's why I wore it.”

“Hmph,” he hums happily, burying his face into the crook of your neck, his arms wrapping securely around you. “Thank you for dinner–and everything sweetheart.” He presses a soft kiss to your skin. 

“That’s not all,” you giggle as he nips at a sensitive spot under your chin. 

He chuckles, his breath warm against your skin. “You’re so good to me.” 

You clutch his chin tilting his head up to meet your eyes. “You deserve a happy birthday.” His big brown eyes search yours, like he’s forcing himself to believe it. “Joel, you do.” 

He rests his forehead against yours. “I love you,” he sighs warmly.

“I love you too. Now, I have something else for you,” you slip off his lap and head towards your backpack. “It’s something small, I promise.”

You return with a bundle of fabric held behind your back. 

“Remember when you tore your favorite flannel and you tossed it in the rag bag?”

You place the flannel in his hands.

“Well, a certain girl named Ellie grabbed it for me. I mended it, reinforced the buttons, and sewed up a couple holes. It’s not perfect, but it’s fixed.”

He holds the flannel up and inspects it. “This is–wow–this–I can’t believe it.” He looks up at you, his eyes wide with adoration. “I was wearing this that first day I saw you, y’know? This is so sweet sweetheart, thank you.” 

He likes it, you thank your lucky stars. Your handsome Joel, here with you on his birthday, allowing himself to be taken care of. 

You know the story of his birthday, you’ve retold the tale to yourself every night as you anticipated this day. Afraid to upset him, afraid to cross a line, but all you’ve wanted to do is give him the world he so deserves. 

It wasn’t just you who thought of him today. It’s Tommy finding the CD. It’s Helen getting you the steak. It’s Ellie grabbing the flannel from the rag bag. He deserves all of it. 

“You’re welcome,” you say with a kiss to his forehead. “Now, put it on. I have one more surprise.”

He slips the flannel on as you head to the living room. The CD waits in the stereo. You turn it on.

The soft guitar and brushes of a drum fills the air as you turn the volume up.  

Joel’s huge smile greets you when you walk back into the kitchen.

“You– how?” he asks, unbelieving. 

“Asked Tommy and he found it for me. Milt had his greatest hits. Now,” you reach your hand out to him, “may I have this dance birthday boy?”

He chuckles and takes your hand, pulling you into him. The two of you sway along to the music, his strong arms enveloping you as your cheek rests against his warm chest. You can hear the steady thump of his heart beneath your ear. Your hands slip around his broad back, one of them trailing up to play with the soft curls at the nape of his neck. He sighs deeply before placing a tender kiss against the top of your head. 

“This is my favorite song,” he murmurs.

The sun has long since set, the singular lamp above the sink casts a warm dark amber glow across the kitchen Your shadows dance across the walls as you sway. He smells of coffee and sweet corn bread, like home and comfort. 

He starts to hum then softly sing along. His deep voice reverberates through your ear, pressed against his heart. 

“Because I’m still in love with you,  I wanna see you dance again,  Because I’m still in love with you,  On this harvest moon”

You can hear the contentment in his voice as he holds you closer. Moving in synchronicity with each other, gently stepping across the small kitchen as the harmonica solo plays. If you could stay in this moment forever you would.

You tilt your head up, and his eyes meet yours. The smile he gives lights his face. Lines crinkling at the corner of his eyes, dimple sitting deep on his cheek, mustache curving with his plush upturned lips. He serenades you with the same lyrics as before, looking deep in your eyes. 

“Because I’m still in love with you,  I wanna see you dance again,  Because I’m still in love with you,  On this harvest moon”  

His lips meet yours, thanking you with a gentle kiss. The man you love and adore, feels good on his birthday all because of you. 

The song plays on repeat, the two of you dance together, Joel gently hums and sings along as the harvest moon rises above the mountains. 

You gently pull away, unclasping his arms from around you.

“Come on birthday boy,” you say with a playful smile, “let’s go watch the stars.” 

—

You and Joel sit beneath a large plaid comforter on his porch. The early fall breeze that rolls down the mountainside leaves a chill in the air. The night sky is lit bright with the orange full moon. Most of Jackson is at the Harvest Moon Festival tonight, you can just make out the distant sounds of laughter and music flowing through the air from the main street on his porch. Ellie was especially thrilled about the teen sleepover happening at the Bison tonight, giving you both this rare moment of solitude in his backyard. She told Joel she knew he was in good hands with you for his birthday. 

And he is–or at least you’re in his good hands. 

“Oh, god,” you softly whisper into the night, you’re so tense from keeping yourself quiet. The stars are a little harder to see tonight thanks to the ambient glow of the bright moon, and yet you see stars whenever you squeeze your eyes shut while fighting the urge to moan. Joel’s deft, large thumb rubs circles against your clit while you ride two of his thick fingers. 

He’s driving you crazy like this. His large body and the blanket wrapped around you, overheating all of your senses in this chilly night. You’re completely covered, nobody would know that your legs are spread wide, one draped over his thick thigh while his hand is stuffed up your dress making you quake as he finger fucks you.

“Easy now, easy now,” he says nuzzling against your neck, his large nose charting a course across the sensitive skin. “Gotta remember where we are. You're the sweet, innocent teacher 'n librarian here. Lotta people look up to you, can’t have them knowin’ what my girl really likes when she’s with me.” Your hips slow their movement, he makes up for it by pumping you harder. “See, I can help, just gotta let me know you want it baby.” 

“Want to take–neyugh–care of you,” struggles out of your mouth. 

“You’re taking care of me right now, sweetheart, touching you is my favorite thing to do.” 

“Want to go inside… w-want to–want–to, want to feel you in my mouth,” you grip the straining bulge underneath the fly of his jeans. 

“Not yet,” he sighs deeply when you squeeze harder. “Like seeing your skin glow in the moonlight. What you’re doin’ now is enough, want to enjoy my night with you.”

Your hold tightens around his cock as you fight harder to suppress the urge to scream into the night. His fingers angle up hitting your most sensitive spot and you feel like you could explode. You’ll be the fireworks to celebrate Joel’s birthday. A whimper is fought by biting your lip, it’s so hard to not scream. His brown eyes look almost black in the low light as he watches you struggle and blink rapidly. 

“Shh baby, you’re doing so good, bein’ so quiet, don’t ruin it now. If anybody was out right now they could walk right on by and they’d have no idea what I’m doing to you under here.”

You’ve never done anything like this, so out in the open. Jackson is a peaceful town full of law abiding citizens, and right now you’re sitting on the back of the porch of Joel’s house getting felt up by him. 

“Joel… I–I’m gonna—”

“Cum for me baby.” His hot breath hits your lips before sealing his mouth against yours. Your cunt spasms against his thick fingers, you feel set alight by your orgasm, overheated and burning. Maybe you’re glowing just as bright as the moon. His tongue dances with yours, swallowing all of your gasps and cries. You’re sure at this point, anybody that walked by would know exactly what was happening between the two of you. You don’t care, all you want is to feel Joel’s cock inside you.

“Want you, Joel, want you so bad,” you mew as his fingers rub against your sensitive folds. 

“Okay baby, okay.” His fingers slip from your warmth before he brings his soaked digits to his lips. His eyes flutter shut when he tastes you. 

“Sweeter than birthday cake,” he declares before raising his hips and pulling his jeans down with a grunt. “Come here. Come sit on me.”

Your legs spread wide as you straddle his large lap with your back pressed against the warmth of his chest. He grips himself and moves the half hard heft of his cock against your soaked core, swirling his tip back and forth across your clit. 

“Tell me you want my cock,” he whispers against your neck, licking a line up to your ear. “Tell me baby.”

“I-I want your cock–I need your cock Joel,” you beg. 

“I know you do darling,” he chuckles deeply, lining himself up to your entrance.

The sounds of the festival go silent and the bright orange moon fades as you slowly sink down on his cock. Taking all of him, thick and throbbing into your tight cunt. 

“That’s my good girl,” he grits. “Your sweet pussy is taking me so well, isn’t she?”

Clutching your bottom lip tightly between your teeth, you try to fight the moan his words bring up.

“Oh, you must like that. You’re squeezin’ me so hard sweetheart.” 

You set a pace, riding him gently under the moonlight, his fingers gripping your hips tight. 

His hot breaths hit the back of your neck as your back molds even tighter to his front. His hand snakes down to rub your clit, small circles making your body meld even more against him.. The rhythm of his fingers and cock spearing you pulls another orgasm down from the ethers of space. Shivering, sweating, and stuttering Joel’s name, you’re trying to be good for him, trying to not scream into the night. 

“That’s my girl, grippin’ my cock so good, cummin’ all over me. Getting yourself nice and slippery so I can fuck you real good, huh?” 

“Mmf,” is the only response you can muster. Your cunt flutters around him, and he doesn’t relent, slowly fucking into you while his finger pulses against your clit. 

The sound of two people conversing approaches. Your movements come to a halt, Joel stays still, his finger still resting against your sensitive bundle of nerves and his cock sitting deep inside you. Hank and Billie, the nice couple that lives three houses down from Joel, walk past the porch. Both look over and wave a greeting. Fuck.

“Beautiful moon, isn’t it?” Hank says with a smile. 

“Quite.” Joel responds. The rumble of his loud voice radiates through you.  

“You guys get any barbecue tonight?” Hank asks. “It was really go–”

“We stayed in,” Joel gruffly responds. He subtly knocks his hips into you causing a wave of sensation to hit against your already cock-drunk pussy.

Your nostrils flare with a deep exhale.  

“Oh, well, there will probably be leftovers tomorrow,” Billie offers. “Tell them I sent you and they’ll give you the good stuff.”

“Thanks Billie,” you breathlessly reply, wishing on every star you’ve seen behind your eyelids, they’ll leave. “We appreciate it.”

“Best be getting home,” Hank says, grabbing Billie’s hand. “We both had a bit too much to drink!” 

Oh thank god.

“Enjoy your night,” Joel says plainly as he starts to slowly rock into you once they turn away. 

To the eyes of your neighbors, you and Joel just look like a normal couple enjoying the night sky cuddled together under a blanket… little do they know he’s filling you with his thick cock under the shield. 

“That was close,” he whispers against your ear before nipping it. 

Your giggle is cut off by a moan when he fucks into you harder. 

“Guess we shouldn’t take our time, don’t want to get caught, now do we?” he asks. 

“We can just–nyuh–go inside,” you plead, wanting to be able to moan and scream Joel’s name in the comfort of his home. 

“Gimme one more baby, gimme one more,” he grunts against your neck. “And then I’ll take you into my home and fuck you.”

His hips pound against your body, his thrusts bucking into your core harder. “That’s it baby, you really want me to take you in and lay you down ‘n fuck you, don’t you?” 

“Mmhmm,” you moan, your stomach tightening and thighs trembling as the universe splinters around you. Your orgasm rockets through your body. Color turns to black and white, noise falls silent. All that exists is Joel Miller and his big cock shattering you into a million pieces like your own personal big bang on the back of his porch. 

“Good girl,” he groans, “let’s take this party inside.”

—

The plaid comforter is laid out on the kitchen floor. Your wobbly legs move your still blissed-out body to Joel’s stereo, starting “Harvest Moon” on repeat all over again. 

You lean against the kitchen entrance, admiring Joel as he rests atop the blanket, naked and supporting himself on his elbows. No man over fifty should ever look as good as him. Broad shoulders frame his strong arms, his chest has a smattering of dark hair that trails down to the slight bulge of his stomach. His cock rests in between his legs, still hard and shining with your slick. He’s so gorgeous, and he’s all yours. 

“Come here sweetheart,” his voice is gruffer. “Lay down next to me.”

His dick twitches as you walk to the blanket and settle beside him. 

He moves over you, covering you with his warmth as he engulfs himself in your slick heat. Your legs instinctually wrap around his waist allowing him to take more. 

“Joel,” you moan. The angle allows his cock to push farther in and your walls to tighten harder against him. 

“Ooh, you’re so fucking wet, you hear that?” he asks incredulously. The squelch of your pussy soundtracks along to the song quietly playing in the background. “Sounds so fucking good baby.” 

He gasps when buries himself to the hilt, soaking the curly hairs around the base of him with your wet.

Your body trembles as your hips meet his, his cock sliding in and out of your cunt at a brutal pace. 

He takes no time to own you now behind the walls of his home. Your hands clutch at his wide back, sobs and screams of his name echoing out into the air as Neil Young softly sings in the background. 

You’re so full of him. His body surrounding you, his lips against yours, his cock pounding into your accepting cunt, his name chanting out of your mouth. 

“You want it baby?” he growls against your neck, his cock pumping in and out of your hole at a speed no man over fifty should be able to ever reach. “You want my cum?” 

“C-cum Joel,” you cry, tears sprouting from your eyes as your fourth orgasm launches through you. 

He gasps your name, pulling out of your tremorous pussy and shooting thick white ropes of cum across your pussy and stomach. 

His sweat is slick against your overheated body, you’re a mess of sweat, orgasm, and love. 

He kisses you, his tongue licking against yours before he rolls off you. His chest rising and falling as he catches his breath. “Fuck,” he pants, stretching his limbs out. “Gonna feel this tomorrow.” 

“Well, you are another year older, old man,” you tease, curling up next to him. 

“Yeah,” he turns his head to look at you. “I guess I am,” he sighs. “Thank you for–my birthday and–all of this. I can never put into words how much it all means to me.” 

“So I guess you’re still in love with me?” you tease.

“Always. Especially on this harvest moon,” he returns your smile. 

---

Tagging a couple people who had asked about this piece earlier this month: @almostfoxglove, @sawymredfox, @burntheedges, and @littlemisspascal 🩷🌝

[pinguwrites]

𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔' 𝑺𝒚𝒏𝒅𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒆 ⸻ Chapter One

series masterlist. next chapter

𝒑𝙖𝒊𝙧𝒊𝙣𝒈 | francis mosses x reader

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 | 1.5k

Warnings: none

A/N: I promise it'll get more exciting later lol

The elevator dinged, and your heart raced. It was dark out, and so the lobby was dimmed — that blue hue that came right before the sun’s rising. After peeking a small look to the side, you quickly went back to the newspaper you were reading, as if you hadn’t noticed the sound at all. Though you didn’t need to hear or see to know who it was. No one else in Sama Place got up this early, except perhaps for you. It was you and Francis Mosses, every day alone at five in the morning. Perfect, wasn’t it?

“Mornin’,” he said, tipping his hat slightly. It was white, with the words “MILKMAN” etched onto the front. If anything, that added detail made him look even more handsome — uniformed, well-put-together, with just a hint of authority. Everything you liked. 

“Good morning, Francis,” you greeted, resting your elbows on the desk in front of you. Placing the newspaper aside, you focused your attention on him, but when he approached you, he took it between his fingers and flipped to the page you were at. 

“Crossword? It’s a bit early for that,” he mused, eyeing all the columns and rows you filled in. It was a hard one, but nothing you couldn’t handle. Besides, what else were you supposed to do, stare at the wall waiting to say ‘hi’ to the next person who came by?

“I like puzzles, they get me thinking . . . you know, you should do something like this, too.” Francis furrowed his eyebrows, just slightly. “Not puzzles, necessarily. But a hobby.”

It just occurred to you at this very moment that he probably did have a hobby, but as someone who was just a doorwoman, you weren't privy to that information.

“I’m sure you do,” you added with a chuckle. “It’s only that I never see you doing anything but work. You’re so tired all the time. How much effort does being a milkman really require?”

He bit his lower lip. “More than you think. I used to get up at one.”

The idea that whatever company he was working for forced him to do this made you upset. Francis deserved nothing but freedom and long vacations and waking up to brunch, not whatever coffee he drank in the morning to get himself going. 

“One?” you repeated, absolutely stunned. “Well, I’m glad you managed to change your shift. Most bosses I know aren’t flexible with that sort of stuff.”

“I was actually doing fine with my original hours. I just changed them because . . .”

“Because what?”

He thought for a moment, his cheeks dusted pink. “Wanted to enjoy the world a little. Can’t very well do that if you have to sleep at seven in the afternoon.” He paused. “I have to go, I’ll see you later tonight, ma’am.”

“Alright. Have a nice day, sir.”

You watched as he left, a longing gaze. In your mind, you imagined spending time with him, whether it be to see a movie or just walk around the city. You found that highly unlikely, though. Mostly because you could never bring yourself to ask him, and never thought he would ever ask you. 

+++

“Really?” you said, a little disappointed. “I’d hate to see you go.”

Dr. William Afton shrugged, a grin across his lips. “I mean, it’s quite the modern idea, don’t you think? I think there ought to be more family restaurants out there. And with my engineering background, I think I’m just the right man to create something fun for children.”

“Your idea sounds like a science fiction novel,” you admitted, “but I like it. What does Mia think?”

“Oh, I had to convince her a little, but in the end, she’ll do as I say. Besides, we’re not moving very far. Just closer to the suburbs.”

You nodded. “I’ll miss you. Make sure to stop by again when you can.”

He agreed and went on his way to finish moving the rest of his belongings to his car. It was silly to want him to stay, but that was how it felt here. Everyone knew everyone, it was like a family. You’d made more friends here than you ever did before. Change wasn’t something you enjoyed.

+++

The day had passed by quickly. You took your lunch break and then went straight back to work. You made a few calls to make sure things were in order. If anything was wrong with the plumbing or if the wallpaper had chipped — things like that — it was your responsibility to fix it. Taking calls for potential renters, being in general a polite and pleasant person, it all came with your job. 

It was unusual for a woman to hold this kind of position. Women barely worked at all. Most were housewives or teachers or secretaries. The fact that you even got this job at all was a miracle. And the fact that the people in this building were so pleasant was a blessing.

After your father died you thought everything was over. He left you a house, a small, one-story building with a nice lawn and a small backyard. It was closed off from the rest of the street, the way he liked it. Away from others, with his own peace. You supposed that trait passed down to you. Other than a simple conversation, you preferred to be by yourself rather than out with a large group of friends, partying at risqué clubs. Besides, even if you liked that kind of stuff, your father would never have approved. 

You were dependent on him, right till the very end. Though you graduated from college, you didn’t know how to get a loan from a bank, drive a car, or even do your taxes. The easiest thing to do was to find a husband, but it was just so difficult. When you saw that sign outside of Sama saying ‘HIRING NOW’ you knew that was where you had to go. A new start. New opportunity. For the first time, you could make your own money, support yourself, and live the life you want.

You sighed, thinking about everything as you leaned back in your chair. The weather was hot today, so you set the fan beside your desk on. It was blowing through your hair, the coolness brushing against your skin with relief. It made your skirt rumple at the ends, but whenever it did that you just straightened it out, pulling it over your knees once more. 

“Hey,” a voice said behind you. 

Startled, you sat up straight, only to realize it was just Anastacha, the girl from the second floor. She lived with her mom, who was a cook at a restaurant, but apparently trying to make it as a chef. She had pigtails in her hair like always and was wearing a simple plaid dress. 

“You scared me,” you said, tone both playful and scolding. “Don’t do that again.”

“Sorry,” she apologized, but she didn’t seem very sorry. “I need help with my homework. Mom says you had a good education, and that if I ever needed help I could just come to you.”

You smiled warmly. “Sure. Pull up that chair over there, and I’ll see what I can do.”

You looked through the folder. It was just basic algebra, nothing too difficult. You remembered doing this in middle school. For the next ten minutes, you both read through each problem and solved it together. She had a lot of questions — annoying ones — but it was fine. She was just a kid, and you were happy to help.

Just as you were explaining the last part to her, the front door opened. 

It was Francis. 

Distracted, you glanced up and down his body. Was it odd that you found him the most beautiful man ever? His long, Roman nose, and his smooth, pale skin. The way the veins in his hands flexed every time he moved them, the light blue dress shirt that hugged his slim, muscled arms, and that dark, tousled hair, widow’s peak dipped in the middle of his forehead.

He passed by you with a short nod. It almost hurt that he didn’t bother to stay longer, but you could see the bags under his eyes and his sluggish movements. He was tired. And to be fair, so were you.

When the elevator door closed, Anastacha exclaimed, “Oh, he likes you!”

“Shh!” You didn’t need people hearing that. “He does not. Do you want to finish this or not?”

“He does,” she insisted with a giggle. “You saw the way he looked at you?”

“You can’t determine things based on a single look.”

“Yes, I can. Mr. Mosses is nice, but he kind of just ignores everyone. He doesn’t do that with you.”

The thought that Francis may like you was an intoxicating one. He was just a man, one that you never exchanged many words with, yet he managed to make you feel all sorts of ways. Was it possible that Anastacha was right? That he really did like you?

“I bet you like him, too.”

You glared at her. You did not need Anastacha spreading rumors about how you were in love with the milkman, however true that may be.

“No, I don’t. Focus.” You pointed the pencil back at her homework. “Now, in order to find x, you have to subtract . . . . . .”

Taglist: @Meetmeatyourworst @hanawrites404 @Emimurphy2008

[thelovelyruin]

𝖘𝖆𝖈𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖊.

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖘 : yandere choso x fem reader

𝖙𝖍𝖊 ��𝖚𝖓 : choso fell in love with you freshman year and it was finally time to make you his.

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖒𝖔𝖔𝖓 : smut, porn with plot, vaginal sex, praise, love, manipulation, murder (not you!)

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖎𝖔𝖙 : 7.1K

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖗 : inspired by lyrics from saccharine by jazmin bean.

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖊𝖒𝖕𝖗𝖊𝖘𝖘 : hello lovelies, thank you so much for reading! this was a request i’ve been working on for a while lol; i hope you enjoy it; if so, follow me for more. au revoir!

18+ MDNI ADULT CONTENT

Everything you do, I'm obsessed with you.

“Exciting, isn’t it?”

“Huh? I mean, yeah it’s cool.”

“Are you rushing too? I really wanna go Kappa!”

“That’s, uh, aren’t they kinda…”

“What, cunts? Yeah, I’d fit in nicely.”

When Choso first met you during rush week a couple years ago, you were an aspiring freshman looking for a sorority to pledge to, and he was a normal guy. Sorta. You’d spoken to him once and he became absolutely in love with you. Not like he hadn’t been with other girls in the past, a few relationships here or there. But you were different. Not like any other girl he’d seen. You hadn’t shared too much with him that day, but he was determined to figure out, well, everything about you.

I don't mean to scare, but you're just so cute.

It started with your name, which he’d simply just asked someone in your class. But then, Choso needed to know more, when was your birthday, were your zodiac signs compatible? He’d gotten that information from stealing your campus ID out of your purse while you two were in class together. Choso was paying really good attention to other things too though. He’d paid attention to your screen while he sat behind you, online shopping when you were supposed to be paying attention to the lecture. That’s how he found out what size you were and the brands you liked, but other things got a little trickier. He noticed the way you did your makeup, it was always so pretty, but it’s not like he knew what any of it was, so he’d slowly started stealing things out of your makeup bag. It was harder to get your perfume, though, until you reapplied it on the campus lawn one day. Pink sugar, huh? Sweet just like you. Choso wanted to be even better, he’d send you flowers with no receipt of who sent them, an array until he found your favorites. He’d pay for your food when you went out to eat, then leave to remain anonymous. He just loved seeing that smile on your face whenever he surprised you with something, always grateful, looking around to see if you could catch your secret admirer, but blushing when you realized you wouldn’t. God, you were perfect.

Lucky for you, you had actually gotten into Kappa. You walked around on this high horse though, one of those kiss-my-ass kind of attitudes. Not like anyone was gonna check you for it, well, ‘cause you were hot. Always well dressed, always groomed, always punctual. There was nothing anyone could really say about you other than you being a bitch, at least never to your face. Little did you know, Choso was your bitch. If you ever even glanced at him, he’d almost faint, and as the sophomore and junior years came and you’d gotten classes with him, he’d go back to his dorm and fuck his fist at the thought of you every day. But now, it was Senior year, and he was running out of time to make you his.

Every move you make, you're fucking sweeter than a cake.

Choso originally planned to just ask you directly, but he had to make sure it was gonna be perfect. He couldn’t leave room for error in the possibility that you weren’t interested at all. So, he’d gotten as close as possible to you. It wasn’t stalking, it was just studying an interest. He was pretty good at photography, so he got hired as a photographer for school events, such as parties or games. He’d walk around and take pictures of everyone like usual to not raise suspicion, but whenever he could, he’d snap as many pictures as he could of you, slipping them into his pocket. When there was too much going on at the party downstairs, he’d sneak upstairs to find which room was yours, for research purposes of course.

Well, that research went directly to Choso knowing which window to take pictures outside of. You were so oblivious, often leaving your curtains wide open as you just got out of the shower, dressed in nothing but a towel. Now, Choso never got a snapshot of you naked or anything like that, but the hopes of the day he could got him pretty damn hard. He’d take pictures of you walking around campus, doing fundraisers with your sorority sisters, running for the pageants that you always won, with the exception of Miss Junior, who you exposed for cheating on her boyfriend so she’d be out of the running. So, you’d won that too. You were practically perfect, Choso felt you were made for him, there was a true possibility he could nurture and care for you, allow you to let your guard down a bit and let him someone in. He imagined himself taking you out to all your favorite restaurants, he had all of them written down along with your favorite menu items. Nights in his room cuddled up watching all of the movies you liked, you’d be so excited to see all of your favorite snacks already waiting for you. You’d wear that glitter lipgloss you loved, he’d make sure you had more than enough, considering he’d already bought two tubes for whenever he made you his. He imagined making love to you, hearing you moan for him as he pleasured you, then put you on his chest as you fell asleep, resting his eyes as he held you. You two could truly be in love. 

I'd love to wipe these other bitches out, so it's just you and me.

But, you had a fucking boyfriend. It’s not like he didn’t like seeing you with other guys. He fucking hated it. Choso thought the guy was pretty scummy, he had that douchebag personality and always looked at guys like Choso like he was a piece of shit. But that asshole was truly a piece of shit. Megumi, or something like that. Choso didn’t bother doing too much digging up on him because it wasn’t gonna matter very soon. You guys had been dating since the beginning of the school year, not very long, but that didn’t stop him from talking to other girls when you weren't around. He’d forget your dates, and make you cry. Wouldn’t post you on his socials, almost pretended he was single. Choso had half a mind to stab him to death, mostly because he didn’t like the way he treated you, but also because then he wouldn’t be in the way anymore.

Then, there were your damn sorority sisters. Those bitches were definitely in the way. They took up too much of your time, making you busy every day with planning and meetings, to do what? Party and maybe, fundraise? He’d see them sometimes talking shit about you, saying you were weird or a bitch, or something else that wasn’t true about you. Choso would never say those things about you or treat you like that. You deserved someone who actually loved you and cared about you, none of these other distractions. He would give you the world, but that meant getting rid of the world you had first.

Oh, oh, this shit is scaring me…

Now, when Choso originally thought of doing this, he thought it was a little nuts. It was a little extreme, sure, but it was just an obstacle in the way to get to you. Sometimes, we do bad things for the people we love. It doesn't mean it's right, it means love is more important. 

Choso originally thought of actually stabbing Megumi like he wanted to. That fell quickly when he really considered the situation. Megumi was on the lankier side which meant it would be more tactical to get a hit in, plus he’d need to find a time he’d be alone in a discreet location to hurt him with no one noticing. Not that he’d really care if someone saw, it would just mean he wouldn’t be able to live the rest of his life with you; that was not an option. Shooting would be just as difficult, shell casings and the sound of gunfire could get him in deep. Could steal the brakes from his car, but then there was the possibility you were in it when it crashed, and for that, he’d never forgive himself. He’d need something that anyone could have done, an accident perhaps, something that wouldn’t kill Megumi, just get him out the fucking way. Then he got a little idea.

Don't wanna stick my fingers in this, or I'll start to bleed…

“Hey, Megumi!”

“Do I know you?”

“Well, we literally live on the same floor, but um, no. Anyways, wanted to talk to you about something…”

“Get on with it.”

“It’s her birthday today, your girlfriend that is.”

“Oh yeah. Well, why the fuck do you care?”

“We’re kinda close, wanted to get her something, but I’ll be too busy with classes to give it to her. Do you mind giving it to her for me?”

“You got my girlfriend a gift, bitch? What the hell’s in this box?”

“Well, that’s kind of a surprise for her…”

“Get the fuck out of my face before I beat your ass. Leave my girl alone, you fuckin’ weirdo.”

Megumi had slammed the door on him, just like that. Usually, Choso would’ve been really torn by his insult. He was pretty pissed Megumi forgot your birthday too, but how could he be pissed, truly? Not when a sweet resolution to Megumi’s shitty ways was on the horizon.

“Megumi’s like totally dead!”

“Omg, what do you mean he’s dead?”

“Well, he went to the hospital ‘cause he came down with like a fever or something? Todo said he couldn’t even talk when he found Megumi in the hallway and his eyes were all watery. The doctors said he died of, shit, what’s it called again? Whatever, like he couldn’t breathe! I don’t know what the fuck happened, but damn, really sucks, ya know?”

“Babe, I’m so sorry. To be fair, he was a dick.”

“Yeah, you’re right. He didn’t have a big one either TBH.”

Well, shit. Choso didn’t mean to kill him, not really. He knew Megumi was a fuckin’ asshole, though. Paired with someone crushin’ on his girlfriend and his ego, Choso knew Megumi was gonna open that box. And what was in it? Initially, Ricin covered the inside of the box, which when inhaled, caused damage to the respiratory system, which Megumi could technically recover from. Choso had extracted the Ricin from some castor beans. The same castor beans that were crushed inside of the cupcake sitting in the box. All 10 of them. Originally, Megumi would’ve lived, had he just thrown it away and not have been nosy, and if he did end up giving it to you, Choso would be there to intervene and he’d deal with that explanation later. But Megumi chose to be a nosy bastard, open it, AND EAT THE CUPCAKE! It was comical, really, considering Ricin can’t be found in an autopsy, so Choso got away with it. It’s okay. It had to be done. That greedy asshole got what was coming to him, and with him out of the way, Choso was cleared to enact Phase 2.

It's sweet like saccharine, what I’d do to have you sitting here next to me.

A couple of days after Megumi died, you pretty much got over it, walking about as if nothing happened. To be fair, he was cheating on you all the time, lied to you, and overall treated you like shit, so it wasn’t that hard. What Choso didn’t expect was for you to get kicked out of your sorority house.

“Listen, babe. Your dead boyfriend is really throwing off the vibe here. Plus, it’s bringing a lot of bad looks to the rest of us because it seems like you honestly don’t give a fuck that he died, and truthfully, neither do we, but damn bitch, try acting like it!”

“Please, Chapter President, I can act like I care, I just-”

“Sorry girlie. You’re still a sister, don’t worry. You do have to leave the house though.”

Choso felt a little bad. A little. They really were bitches, but this was perfect. He’d just saved himself from starting a gas leak at the Kappa house when you weren’t home. He didn’t like that your feelings were hurt though, and he beat himself up about it. Choso himself wasn’t really a good guy, killing your boyfriend on your birthday? Almost killing your sorority sisters before they pretty much kicked you to the curb? He was doing the exact opposite of being a good boyfriend. He’d be on his toes from now on, can’t risk ruining his chances with you. However, it was all in good light. You were becoming more and more ready to fall into his arms.

Apparently, you pretty much kept to yourself and stayed in your room. Your classwork was slacking a bit, and you couldn’t live at the house, but that didn’t stop you from still trying to be involved, participating in some campus events, and fundraising with your sisters despite your exile. You were a normal girl, humbled for sure, but Choso didn’t like that very much. He never intended to break you down like this, while you were still sweet in his eyes, he knew you loved the life you had before. He can’t unkill Megumi, which wouldn’t make sense anyway because Choso was your boyfriend now, but he’d give you a life even better than the first. One where you and he were together.

Like cherry pie, will you be mine?

Now, Choso was a real sweetheart, getting you so many gifts for when you came along, preparing how he’d approach you, compliment you, fuck you. But he was getting a little impatient. At this point, it was already the tail end of courses before winter break so he didn’t have much time to see you every day, even though he’d make that happen regardless. Plus, all of the shit that had happened to you would wear off in a couple of days, so he needed to act now. Choso knew he couldn’t make you fall in love with him overnight, and it would be too hasty to try to take it slow with you now. So, he had no choice. He was gonna kidnap you.

Now, “kidnapping” is a rather strong way to put it. In reality, Choso was gonna come to see you and talk a bit, but if that didn’t work, he’d hold you at knifepoint and make you come back to his dorm with him to enjoy all of the things he’d set up for you! He would never hurt you intentionally, so it’s not like he was gonna use it, but he had to make you think he would. He wished kidnapping you was legal, why wouldn't he want to be able to love you and take care of you all the time? It’s okay, you’d learn to love him back. After all, Choso wasn’t your ‘maybe’. Choso was your ‘one’.

Sweet to the core, I want some more.

Choso decided he’d make his move on you the night of the last Kappa party of the season, too many people for anyone to notice him running off with you, plus he knows you’d look so pretty in your party dress, hair all done up, heels making those legs of yours look so pretty. And you did! Except, you were crying. When Choso got to the party and spotted you, you were sniffling as you walked out the back door of the house. Now, he had to be strategic about this, so he exited out the front in time to catch you walking from the back. When he’d gotten outside, he saw you walking down the sidewalk, but it wasn’t very well, your heel had broken and you were having to walk barefoot. He felt terrible seeing you like that. You looked so sad, so scared, just broken. Choso had to make things right.

“Hey, you okay?”

I love you.

I can hear your words breaking down my core…

You looked up at him with those beautiful doe eyes of yours, bloodshot and watery from crying, but still, you looked stunning.

“Oh, hey Choso. Honestly? No, I’m like not okay at all.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Well, my ex died and everyone’s making a super big deal about it. Like, people kept coming up to me asking questions and stuff like I was there when he died or something.”

“Oh, um-”

“Sorry, I know I sound like a twat right now, but he cheated on me like all the time! It’s honestly a long shot to say we were even together, not be cocky or anything, but I think he dated me to make himself look better. Plus, he got me in hot water with my sisters, like he’s haunting me after death or whatever.”

“Sounds like he wasn’t really a good guy…”

“Yeah, pretty much. Anyway, now I have to walk back to my stupid dorm with no shoes because I fell over like a klutz and just embarrassed myself to the nines. I don’t even wanna go back there, just makes me sad, ya know? I came out to this stupid party to get my mind off things and it’s like things are just bleh. It doesn’t even feel like anyone likes me anymore. I wish someone just loved me for me, ya know?”

I think about you every day at least a hundred times or more.

Choso walked up and hugged you, bringing you into his embrace. It was a bold move for sure, especially with the knife sheathed on his waist, but he just hated seeing you cry like that. Soon, you’ll feel how nice it is to have someone care about you so much. To have someone who wants to revolve their entire life around you.

“It’s okay. Know you don’t know me very well, but I’m here for you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I don’t wanna be too forward or anything, but you can come back to my dorm for a few, that is, if you don’t wanna go back to yours.”

“That’s so sweet, thanks!”

Fuck, this was perfect! He didn’t even have to threaten to kill you! Choso offered to pick you up, which you happily agreed to, holding your heels in your hand as he carried you back to his dorm. On the way, you talked about a bunch of stuff you liked, mostly things he already knew about you, but there were a couple of new things that enticed him. You’d stopped crying, that sweet smile back on your face as you found comfort in Choso’s arms. He’d gotten back to his dorm fairly fast, not wanting to waste much time to get things rolling. He figured he’d start with telling you about his love for you, really seeing if you-

“OMG, YOU HAVE THIS???”

You pointed at the movie poster on his wall, one of your favorite movie. He’d studied it a lot, trying to figure out why you liked it so much. He’d watched it over ten times by now, buying the poster as a touch when you finally came, which worked!

“Yeah, it’s a pretty good-”

“Pretty good? It’s like the best movie ever!”

“We can, uh, watch it if you want.”

“Yes, I’d love that!”

Choso was so lucky. Here you were, sitting with him on his bed as you watched the movie. You’d stop every few minutes and point out something about it you knew a fun fact about or laugh at the parts you’d seen so many times. You were so damn cute. You’d pretty much forgotten all of the stuff going on, able to just relax with him for once. Don’t you see how nice this is? How special things can be? 

“Oh wow, it’s getting late. Shit, I still have to walk back.”

Just like that, the movie was over. You looked tired, not just physically but mentally too. You couldn��t leave though, that’s not how this was gonna go.

“Are you sure you’re good to walk?”

“Whatcha mean?”

“I mean, your heels are broken and it’s too dark outside to be out there by yourself. Something could happen to you.”

Fuck, Choso was a little too bold with that last part. He was probably coming on too strong, he’d need to fix-

“You’re worried about little ‘ol me?”

“Something like that…”

YES. He was so fucking worried that sweat was about to drip from his face, red with anxiousness that the love of his life was about to leave him behind.

“Well, you could always walk with me. Or do you just wanna spend more time with me?”

You gave him a little smirk and wink, it went straight to his dick as he tried to think of a way to respond.

“I, um… yeah, I would.”

Your answer to his statement would be the deciding factor between you staying or him picking up that knife from his jacket on the chair. Fortunately for you, you smiled and put your things back down, sitting on the bed as you looked up at him.

“Fine, but we’re gonna watch another movie. Your pick this time.”

You make me afraid, come closer, wait no, go away…

Ten minutes into this movie and he felt like he was gonna fucking explode. This time around, you’d gotten closer to him. Instead of sitting at the end of the bed, you laid beside him, not quite touching you, but he could definitely smell you, and fuck, you smelled so good. It was becoming painful to not touch you, but he couldn’t risk fucking this up. You looked so nice like this, chest moving up and down as you laid comfortably, eyes low, obvious you were getting tired. 

“Hey, Choso?”

“What’s up?”

“Thanks for, ya know, being nice to me. I’m not anyone’s favorite these days…”

You looked so sad, but Choso couldn’t be happier. You were starting to recognize the only person who really cares about you is him!

“Yeah, but you’re my favorite.”

“Really? But, you barely know me.”

Choso actually knew you very well. Probably better than you know yourself.

“You’ve just got that type of personality that’s really easy to like, is all.”

You sat up now and looked Choso in the eyes, making him blush instantly.

“Oh yeah? So, you like me?”

Choso started stuttering and sweating, flustered beyond reason as you gave him one of those smirks. At this point, he didn’t even have to tell you. His body language was more than obvious.

“I was just kid-”

“Yes, I mean-”

You both looked at each other in shock. Why the fuck would he say that? You were fucking joking. Choso was stupid to think you were serious, not like he really had any chance with a girl like you. But that’s okay. He was gonna make one. Although, he didn’t know whether to love or hate you right now, most likely both. You looked up at him optimistically, like you were waiting on his response, but also blushing a bit as he nearly popped a blood vessel in front of you. He couldn’t even speak, choked up on his words as you brought your hand on top of the one he had leaning on the bed.

“Tell me, do you?”

“I do, for a while now.”

“So, why not ever talk to me?”

“Because you’re pretty hard to talk to.”

“How’s that?”

“You’re usually, um-”

“A bitch? Yeah, I am. But these past few weeks have humbled me.”

Choso wanted to laugh a little. Of course, it was because of him and the precautions he’s put in place for you two to end up together. You didn’t need to know that part though. You looked down, that same broken look you’d been putting off all night. Everything in him told him to stop, don’t be too hasty and he could probably get back to the plan, but it hurt him to see what he’d caused. It definitely didn’t help that you were crying again, bringing your knees to your chest as you fell into the realization of how messed up you felt. Choso pulled you into his arms, laying your face into his chest as he rubbed your back. You felt so warm, so soft, he didn’t want to let you go. Ever. 

“It’s not your fault. So, don’t beat yourself up about it.”

“Thanks, you’re right.”

It was hard to feel like the bad guy when you were smiling at him, finding comfort in his words. You two were dangerously close now, eye contact had him feeling like a deer in headlights, while you remained cool and collected, like usual. That’s one of the main things he loved about you, despite all of the crazy shit going on, you still try to appear fine, but that was far from the truth. He’d be a shoulder for you to cry on, someone you could depend on and pour your feelings into. Give your heart to someone who’s worthy of loving you back and spending their every breathing second devoted to keeping you happy.

Saccharine, what I’d do to have you sitting here next to me. 

You’d kissed Choso softly, leaning in slowly enough to feel his breath hitch on his lips when he realized what you were doing. It was perfect. Your lips felt even softer than he thought they would, gentle and loving as you brought yourself closer, closing the distance between you. He had to get his head together, he’d practiced this part over and over again, and all he had to do was focus and execute it. First, cup your face with his hand. You smiled into his lips when he did this, allowing him to move to the second step, and bring his hand to the back of your neck to deepen the kiss. You softened into his touch as he laid your back on the bed, opening your legs to let him on top of you. You were so sweet, moaning softly into the air as he began sucking the skin of your neck. Choso wanted to claim you, he’d finally gotten to kiss you and he needed everyone to know you were his. He sucked a little harder and felt ecstatic when you didn’t stop him, instead groaning as bruises began to flower on your skin.

“Choso…”

Shit, you moaned his name. It felt exhilarating, something he’s been waiting for for so long finally coming true. It lit a fire under his ass, coming up to kiss your lips once before he brought his lips back down to your collarbones, moving lower as his hand massaged your side. Once he’d reached the skin of your breasts, he’d stopped, looking up to you for the green light to keep going. Even though you didn’t really have a choice in spending the rest of your life with him, consent was still pretty important to him, so when you gave him a nod, he took off. Choso brought his fingers to the hem of your dress, pulling it over your head as you brought your arms up to aid him. God, you were beautiful. Your tits were on full display to him now, nothing covering you but a lacy pink thong. He was gonna start hyperventilating, your tits lifted as you breathed, nipples calling out to him like they needed saving. He brought his lips down swiftly and wrapped his tongue around one of them, immediately putting the other between his fingers to pinch as the rest of his palm massaged your breast. You started whimpering for him now, touch-starved since your boyfriend died, but Choso hoped it was also because he was doing things better than anyone you’d been with before. He alternated his mouth, groping and sucking as much as he could, relishing in the feeling of your tits in his face for the first time. As much as he could stay there all day, he knew you needed more, so he kissed his way down your stomach, lips grazing your pantyline. Choso sucked the skin of your stomach as you bucked your hips against him, turned on as he took care of you.

“Choso, please…”

He looked up into your eyes as he brought his lips off your body, fingers hooking into the fabric of your thong as he pulled them off of you. Holy fuck. You were soaking wet, lips glistening with your juices as your hips shifted slightly to invite Choso in. Without hesitation, he brought his lips down to your pussy, beginning to devour you. You tasted amazing, drinking the nectar of a fruit long awaited and it almost made him regret not planning to kidnap you sooner. You smelled so fucking good too, your pussy engulfing all of his senses as he ate you like his last meal. Your fingers found their way into his hair, moaning his name into the air with every lick of your clit. Sideways, up and down, circles around your bud, anything he could to hear you moan for him, to make your pain go away. He’d brought your legs over his shoulders and rested his hands under the arch of your back, angling your hips so he could eat you exactly how he wanted. Messy and slow, he took his time spreading your juices all over his face as you panted and pulled at the sheets. He was self-indulgent, tongue pumping in and out of you as he lived out his fantasies of eating your pussy.

“Choso…I-I…”

Shit, you were close. Choso was about to make you cum! He doubled down immediately, bringing his arms over your thighs to keep you in place as you felt your orgasm approaching. He’d picked up his pace too, tongue moving at a hungry pace as he anticipated your cum in his mouth. The hand you had in his hair gripped tighter, Choso taking it as a cue to bring his lips up and suck your clit, suction bringing your bud against his tongue. You came fast and hard, grinding your pussy against his face as you came for him, his name slipping off your lips over and over as you rode out your high.

You’re sweet to the core. 

You looked so pretty for him, chest rising and falling as you caught your breath. Choso slowly kissed his way back up your body, lips finding themselves on yours. This kiss was different from before, more intense and confident. At that point, you’d already started unbuckling his jeans, kissing him feverishly as you helped him take his clothes off. Hovering over you, he looked at you in awe. Legs on either side of his, big doe eyes looking up at him, waiting for him to fuck you.

“Holy shit…”

Your hands found his hair, gripping and tugging at it as he slipped in at a slow pace. Choso took his time, exploring the walls he longed for the feeling of. Every stroke nearly sent him over, wet and warm, you were like heaven wrapped around his dick. You felt even better than he’d imagined, much better than his fist he fucked to the thought of you. Especially with how you were moaning for him, it was driving him crazy, all he could do was praise you.

“You’re perfect…so fuckin’ perfect…”

“I know…”

God, he’s never felt like this. You were sucking him in like you were made for him, holy shit, he was losing his mind. Touching him, feeling your warmth on his shaft as he fucked you faster. You were so beautiful, lips pursed as you breathed up and down, eyes fluttering as he fucked you.

“You feel so good, baby…”

“Choso…”

His name was killing him. He’d put in so much time to make sure he fucked you exactly the way you needed him, he had to make the first time perfect. A man that could care for you. Love you. Please you. Choso finally had you, and he was going to give you the fucking world.

I need to hate you before it's too late…

“So fuckin’ pretty, baby…”

Choso gripped your legs tight as he fucked into you fast, making you scream his name out into the room. You were doing this for him! Moaning for him! And you felt so fucking good wrapped around him, more than anyone ever before. There wasn’t anyone before you and there wasn’t anyone before him. Your world would revolve around him now like his revolved around you, every waking moment of being in love would be magical. 

“Choso, I-”

“Let me have it, baby. I’ve waited so long for it…”

He didn’t care what he was saying anymore, too high on you and your pleasure that he couldn’t think straight. If you were gonna cum for him, he needed it now, like his life depended on it. Something to signify the beginning of all of the pleasure he’d give you from this point forward.

“You know how long I’ve wanted this, baby? Fuck, I’m close…”

“That’s it, baby, let go, let me make you feel good…”

“So pretty, cumming on my dick like this…”

Choso was so fuckin obsessed with you. You came down like an angel, eyes fluttering as you murmured his name softly, body melting into the bed. He halted inside you as he came, losing his mind over the way your nails dug into his arms. You two lay there panting for a bit, Choso’s arm bringing you into his chest. So beautiful like this. He’d finally made it, you in his arms, right where you belonged.

Before I crave you…so please go away. 

“So, I’m not going back to my dorm tonight, am I?”

No, of course, you weren’t.

“Do you really want-”

“I don’t want to.”

Choso was shocked to hear your words. You actually wanted to stay here with him, he didn’t even have to scare you into doing it! 

“Do you have a T-shirt or something? It’s kinda cold in here.”

“Uh, yeah, let me grab-”

“No problem, I’ll get it!”

Stop it. FUCKING STOP. You were getting too comfortable, about to open Pandora’s box with your hand on his closet door. Choso should stop you, whatever it would take. By the time he’d gotten to the knife, you’d opened the closet, pictures of you all over the walls. Choso lingered behind you now, knife behind his back as he waited for your reaction. You just had to be so fuckin nosy, you’d ruined everything. 

“Choso…are these pictures of me?”

He gripped the knife tightly in his hand as he watched you look through them. He couldn’t even speak, heartbreak and murderous intent flowing out of him. Every picture put another pin in his heart. Photos of you around campus, through your dorm window, in class, all open for you to see. You brought your hand up to one, pulling it down as you looked over it. The picture he took of you on Valentine’s Day. You’d been sitting in class that day, sad because Megumi hadn’t gotten you anything, which Choso figured he wouldn’t. That’s why he had three dozen roses delivered to you on the lawn later that day, eyes brightening as you held them and read the card: “Happy Valentine’s Day, Princess. ~ your secret admirer.” You were so damn happy that day, so perfect. Now, you had to die.

“It was you, huh? All this-”

“Yes. It was always me.”

You pulled another one down, the one of you winning Miss Sophomore. Your face had the brightest smile, holding that crown on your head as you cried tears of joy. You smirked at it, cheeks blushing a bit.

“I look really good in this one, glad someone got a shot of it. So, you liked me this much?”

You’d turned to look at him now, giving him a confused face. Probably because Choso was sweating buckets. His hand shook behind him as he looked at you nervously, analyzing everything about you, any sign that you were scared or wanted to leave.

“I’d call it more than that.”

“So, why not-”

“Because I wanted things to be perfect. I wanted to be perfect for you.”

You gave him a nervous nod and turned back to the closet, pulling down a photo of you in your room back at the Kappa house.

“How’d you do it?”

“I…huh?”

“How’d you take this without getting caught?”

You looked back at him now, a serious look on your face that told him he better fuckin’ answer. What was he gonna do? There was no point in lying to you, everything was there for you to see.

“I learned you and the other girl’s schedules to make sure everyone was asleep.”

“So, what else ya got? Pictures can’t be the only thing.”

Choso pointed to the top shelf of the closet hesitantly. You brought down the bin carefully, sitting it down on his desk as you opened the lid.

“What the fuck, Choso? I was looking everywhere for this lipgloss!”

You’d begun rummaging through the bin, picking up things in remembrance of when you lost them. A couple of hair ties, eyeliner, lipstick napkins. You acted as if there was nothing wrong with this, and it was making it really hard for Choso to read you. His hand alternated between wanting to drop the knife or use it, heart pulsing frantically as you tried on old jewelry of yours. Satisfied with your findings, you moved back to the closet, pulling down the other box on the shelf. The one with his gifts for you.

“Wait! You’re not supposed to see that yet!”

“What is it?”

“It’s something really special... just please, you’re gonna ruin everything!”

You shot him a concerned look and rolled your eyes, walking back over to the bed to take a seat. 

“Answer a couple of questions for me, ‘kay?”

“I-I…”

“Question one, when did this start?”

“...Freshman year, rush week…the first time we met…”

You looked at him surprised. That meant he’d been stalking in love with you for almost four years now and never acted on it.

Just confiscate you, my teeth are in pain…

“Question two, what’s behind your back?”

“Nothing…important…”

Choso was shaking in fear, so much so, he dropped the fucking knife. You both watched it fall to the floor behind him, your mouth agape in shock as he frantically bent over to pick it up. He couldn’t tell what was more awkward, him dropping it on the floor or him picking it up and sitting it on his desk like nothing happened.

“WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU GONNA DO WITH THAT?”

“DAMAGE CONTROL.”

“FOR WHAT?”

“FOR WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING RIGHT NOW!”

“YOU WERE GONNA STAB ME?”

“NO, I WAS JUST GONNA MAKE SURE YOU DIDN’T LEAVE!”

“ARE YOU FUCKIN’ CRAZY?”

“I’M NOT CRAZY, I’M IN LOVE!”

You scoffed and chuckled, stunned at his statement. Choso was bright red, on the verge of a panic attack. So many thoughts, so many mistakes, you knew almost everything now. All of the things he wanted to do for you, show you, give you, it all meant nothing now. Still, you sat there completely calm, aside from the fact the guy who just fucked your brains out was possibly about to kill you.

“Question three, this is an important one. Did you kill Megumi?”

“It was ruled a death from natural causes.”

“Yeah, tell that shit to someone else, did you kill him?”

Choso didn’t really care to hide things now, too far gone. Especially not how he got rid of that asshole you called a boyfriend.

“Yes, I did; and I don’t regret it.”

“How’d you do it?”

“I poisoned him with Ricin.”

“RICIN? HOW THE FU-”

“I put it inside of a box I told him was supposed to be for you.”

“Why?”

“Because he was a terrible boyfriend to you and you didn’t deserve to be with a guy who couldn’t even remember your birthday. Not to mention, he would’ve never died if he didn’t open what was meant for you, nosy fucker.”

“So, you were jealous? Most people would just beat the guy’s ass, you definitely knocked it out the park with that one.”

“Yes, he didn’t deserve to have you! He took you for granted when there was somebody much more fit to make you happy!”

“And that’s you?”

“Yes, just…please…don’t leave. Not before I make things perfect for you!”

You sat back on your hands, thinking a bit and bouncing your leg. Choso had said too much. Not only did he admit to killing Megumi, but now if you really did hate him, you could get him arrested too. Which meant you two would have to live apart. That was no longer an option.

“Even If I wanted to leave, I don’t think you’d actually give me the choice. Plus, it’s kinda…sweet?”

“Sweet?...”

“Yeah, never had someone like me this much, let alone kill my boyfriend to get closer to me.”

“So, you’re not mad?”

“No, not really. Well, maybe for planning to stab me. Not like I can make you untake the pics, but I’ll need some of my stuff back. I’m more impressed than anything. I’m not even gonna ask how you got the Ricin or half of this stuff.”

Choso didn’t know how to feel, or how to react. Why were you so calm about this? Why weren’t you scared? Why were you still here willingly? He couldn’t move at all, locked in place in fear as he watched you get into the bed and turn on another movie.

“You gonna come lay with me or just stand there?”

“I just…I-”

You sat straight up now, looking him dead in the eyes as his body quivered in reaction.

“What’s your deal, huh? Didn’t you kill a guy to be with me?”

“Yes, technically, I-”

“So, be with me, Choso! Unless you’re just like a murderer or whatever, that’s kinda fucked up.”

I'm gonna break you before I can say…

Choso was lost for fuckin’ words. You were laying on his chest now, holy shit, he was losing his mind. Touching him, feeling your warmth as you finally relaxed. Everything he had done to get you with him had paid off. You were so perfect, lips pursed while you breathed up and snuggled your face into him. Just his sweet, sweet girl.

“So, the whole, um, thing…”

“What, you being fucking insane?”

“I’m not insane, just very dedicated to the woman I love!”

“Well, the way I see it, all my other boyfriends couldn’t stop looking at other girls, but you? You’re perfect, you’re already obsessed with me! Just don’t kill anyone else, ‘kay?” 

“I’ll try.”

I love you.

♱ the song used in this story is saccharine by jazmin bean. 🖤

♱ masterlist.

♱ all fics playlist.

𝖆𝖚 𝖗𝖊𝖛𝖔𝖎𝖗, 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊𝖑𝖞𝖗𝖚𝖎𝖓.

[rambosgirl]

Mesmerized - Logan Howlett x ballet dancer!reader

Summary: You need to break in your new pointe shoes, which leads to Logan catching you dancing in the kitchen in the middle of the night (takes place during the original trilogy, I specifically thought of the first or second movie)

For an elevated experience, I would listen to Tchaikovsky while you read (the one below is pas de duex) OR I personally would listen to Barbie and the 12 dancing princesses theme - don't judge me until you listen to it

Masterlist

If there was anything you hated about ballet, it was this.

You stood in your room, dressed for a late-night practice session in a leotard and shorts when you remembered your pointe shoes were pretty worn. Apparently, your brain underestimated just how worn out they were.

It had barely been four weeks since you started using your current pointe shoes, but they looked like they had been through a hurricane - no surprise, considering how often you used them.

As you held a borderline unusable pair of pink shoes in your hands, you contemplated waiting until tomorrow to fix this mess so you could practice.

No, you didn't want to run the risk of people seeing you dance. You hated the idea of someone seeing you. It's why you didn't audition or perform, even though you could. The only people you were comfortable watching you dance were Charles, Jean, and Ororo. Even then, your shyness often got the best of you and you often cut those sessions short.

You were too shy and stubborn to wait for tomorrow, you concluded.

Luckily, you had a stash of brand-new pointe shoes in your closet for times like this. You picked the ones you wanted from your closet and began the process you knew well, one that would likely look insane to other people. You put a cloth over the box part of the shoe, and stood on it, pressing your weight down from your heel to widen them. Content with your work so far, you picked them up again, sat on the floor, and started to bend the heel portion back and forth, carefully avoiding the center. You smiled at the satisfying crackling sounds that came from each shoe as you worked them.

Now for the mentally insane part.

You grabbed both shoes and started smacking the tips of the toes together, making a thudding noise every time. Halfway through, it occurred to you that it was getting late. You shifted your eyes to your clock - 12:49 am. Oops.

Well, it was too late to back down now, and plus, your door was closed. You continued your assault on the shoes until they made a nice, softer thud when you tapped them on each other. Perfect.

The next step in your process was to actually wear the shoes and dance in them a bit, but you had a slight setback. Your room was carpeted.

Charles was in the middle of designing a dance studio so you could teach at the school, but it was just that right now. A design.

'I'll just see if anyone's in the kitchen,' you thought, quickly grabbing your inserts and new shoes. You silently made your way to the kitchen, relieved when you found it empty, bathed in the blue light from the microwave and oven clocks. It wasn't much, but it was enough for now. Plus, you didn't want to turn on lights and accidentally wake someone. If you haven't already.

You sat on the kitchen floor, slipping on your inserts, then your shoes. You stood, testing your pointe one foot at a time before going to both feet, testing your balance with a few steps.

Stretching, you felt the shoes give a little, molding to your movements. Soon, you lost yourself in the familiar rhythm of your warm-up, the quiet shuffle of your feet against the smooth kitchen floor the only sound.

You slowly transitioned from warm-ups to full movements. Each step, every rise to your toes was precise, your muscle memory taking over and guiding you through different steps.

Logan woke with a start, drenched in sweat. He couldn't remember what he was dreaming about, but his adamantium claws stabbing his mattress told him it wasn't good. He glanced at the alarm clock by his bed - 1:03 am.

There was no way he was going back to sleep. His heart was pounding, his mind too chaotic to be put to rest.

That's how he found himself wandering aimlessly through the mansion in nothing but a pair of sweatpants. He turned to go down another hallway, but a tapping noise caught his attention. He hesitated, using his senses to figure out where it was coming from.

The kitchen.

He started towards the rhythmic tap-tapping with a newfound energy, his sharp instincts pulling him closer to the kitchen.

He paused when he reached the doorway, his brows furrowing as he took in the sight. There you were moving with effortless grace and fluidity, he wondered how it was even possible. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, staying in the shadows to observe you quietly.

Logan's eyes narrowed, studying you. Your movements were somehow relaxing to him, you just looked like you were completely enveloped in your element like this was how you normally moved.

With a deep breath, you began a series of fouetté turns. Your arms swept out as you spun, your leg whipping around each turn, propelling you in a perfect circle. Your movements were sharp, yet controlled, balance unwavering as you transitioned from one turn to the next.

You gradually let the turns slow, your momentum dying out as you shifted your body into an arabesque, extending one leg behind you as your arms reached forward, forming a perfect line.

You paused in that position, your muscles stretching in a familiar burn before you moved to start a pirouette. You lifted your leg and started the turn, the rotation smooth, like second nature. You ended the spin in a deep plié, the tension in your legs releasing as you sank closer to the floor, only to rise again, light as a feather.

You released a breath as you stood normally, moving to take your pointe shoes off. Your mind was busy, thinking about what you did good and what you wanted to work on. So busy, that you didn't notice the man who had been watching you from the shadows smirk and walk away.

You woke up later than usual the next morning, your tiredness from last night evident in all your features. After a half-hearted attempt to tame your hair, you gave up and threw it into a messy bun. Your oversized hoodie swallowed your frame, covering your shorts completely, and you pulled your favorite throw blanket around your shoulders like a shawl as you shuffled down the hall toward the kitchen. Food was the only thing on your mind, your stomach reminding you about it every 30 seconds.

As soon as you got to the kitchen, you went straight to the cabinets looking for your one true love: cereal. Its usual spot was empty. Frowning, you rummaged through other cabinets in hopes that someone just misplaced it.

"Scott, if you took the rest of the cereal," you mumbled, "I will shove my pointe shoes so far up your -"

A throat cleared behind you.

You froze, turning slowly to see who just witnessed your plotting against Scott. You really hoped it wasn't Scott.

You didn't recognize the man casually leaning against the wall, smirking at you with his arms crossed.

"You know, if I knew this place came with free ballet performances at midnight, I’d have moved in sooner," he drawled, his voice thick with amusement.

Your face warmed. "Wait what?"

His smirk widened as he pushed off the wall and took a slow step toward you. "I saw you last night. The kitchen floor is an interesting stage for a ballerina."

His eyes never left yours as he walked closer, your shock and embarrassment slowly sinking in.

"I didn't think anyone would be up," you said, fidgeting with the hem of your hoodie, looking down, "and I've never seen you around before."

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he stopped right in front of you, his presence towering over you as your back pressed lightly against the counter.

"Logan."

You looked up at him, almost right above you with how close he was.

"What?"

"My name," he clarified, the tension between you rising, "It's Logan."

"Well Logan, like I said, I didn’t realize I had an audience," you half-whispered, refusing to look away for even a second. You could feel the heat from his body, the subtle scent of leather and cigars drifting from him, making it hard to focus on your words. "I don't usually have people around when I dance," you admitted, your breath shaky.

"Well, I guess I'm just lucky then," he said, his voice dropping lower. "Couldn't keep my eyes off you."

Your mouth parted slightly, taking in the meaning of his words. Your face got impossibly warmer.

Logan clearly enjoyed the effect he was having on you, but it was time to shake things up, he thought. You were starting to look like a deer in headlights.

Almost as quickly as it had formed, the tension broke as Logan pulled back slightly, though he didn’t fully retreat. "Anyway," he said, his voice shifting back into that low, gruff tone, "you look like you could use some breakfast."

"I was thinking the same thing, but Scott had other plans." You rolled your eyes.

"I can beat him up for you," Logan quipped.

"I was gonna do that," you laughed. Logan just raised an eyebrow, looking you up and down.

“Tell you what,” he said, heading toward the fridge. “Sit tight. I’ll whip up something better than cereal, save you from committing a crime and getting killed by Scott.”

You chose to ignore the second part, surprise taking over your features. “You cook?”

Logan gave you a sideways glance featuring a raised eyebrow as he pulled out some eggs and milk.

"It would be just embarrassing if I couldn't manage something as basic as scrambled eggs," he said with a small scoff as if offended.

His eyes met yours again, that playful glint back in full force. “But don’t get too used to it, ballerina. It’s a one-time deal.”

You smiled at his teasing. "Sure. One-time deal."

Hope you all enjoyed my first Logan fic! This idea has been floating around in my head for a while :)

I got the pointe shoe info from here and the dance move info from chat gpt because I'm not a dancer lol

[dc418writes]

If You Can’t Stand the Heat…

✨Pairing✨: Brendan “Mid-Size Sedan”xblack!reader

Summary🪄: Your first Christmas with your boyfriend’s parents. What could go wrong?

🚨: allusion to a deceased parent, language, pretty much all fluff💕 (aside from an overbearing mother👀)

A/N🎤: Happy New Year and belated holidays🥂✨! So clearly this did not come out when I originally planned, but I still hope yall enjoy! Also stating the other obvious in the room, for those who have seen Old were ignoring the end this character saw and in my mind he is in fact alive and well🥰 (for those who haven’t seen, sorry for the spoiler lol)

*DISCLAIMER!: I DO NOT CLAIM OWNERSHIP of pictures used as they were found via Pinterest and Google*

“My baby boy!”

Brendan’s practically tackled by his own mother as she hurries into the brightly lit foyer hugging him tight while gently swaying back and forth. Her usual floral scent instantly takes him back to his childhood dancing around the living room and helping her in the kitchen - until his playful, mischievous ways would get the best of him that is.

“Hey ma,” he chuckles hugging her just as tight. Being away for most of the year, he admittedly missed her nearly crushing hugs.

“Cmon now Kat let the boy breathe.” Both arms attempting to carry all their luggage, his father, Devon, manages to close the door behind them using his foot. Not without needing to quickly rebalance himself from the shift of weight though. “So he can help with this luggage.”

“Oh, I got it!”

Both his parents seem to freeze at the new unfamiliar voice, quickly peeking past their son to the figure waving and moving closer. “Now who in the hell..?,” his mother thinks watching the black curls atop your head bounce with every step until you stop beside her son.

“Nah, it’s okay baby imma get it.”

And when he pecks your temple - making that sweet smile on your glossy lips brighten like the shimmering lights on the miniature Christmas tree in the corner - Devon can already see the flames and chaos swirling in his wife’s mind. “Oh lord, here we go.”

“Brendan,” although smiling herself, Katherine’s is clearly one mixed with confusion looking between the both of you, “w-who is your uh..little guest here?”

“This is my girl-,”

Everything muted after hearing that. Girlfriend? When did this happen? And why did she not know until now? Being his mother, she should’ve been the first to know! God knows what this little girl had planned up her sleeve for her innocent baby boy.

“It’s nice to finally meet you!” Katherine manages to snap out of her trance just in time to watch you move towards her with arm extended after shaking Devon’s hand. “Brendan’s told me so much about both of you.”

“Aw that’s so nice. Sadly I’ve heard nothing of you though sweetheart.” That hit you just as she expected, making your smile falter and dim as her son nervously rubbed at the back of his neck.

“Not that I wasn’t plannin’ to,” he quickly tries to rectify. “But from the interviews and studio sessions-,”

“The other week you sent me that beat you were working on. Sounds like a perfect time to me.”

Devon could read his boy just as well as his mother, and he might as well have ‘SOS’ tattooed on his forehead right about now. This ship was sinking faster than a boat made of Swiss cheese in the middle of summer, and he couldn’t just let him drown.

Quickly clearing his throat, he successfully gains everyone’s attention - for now at least, “B why don’t you uh show us around this place.”

-

Sat in the middle of the California king bed - white comforter and sheet just as pristine as fresh snow blanketing your newly washed and moisturized legs - you can’t stop replaying the events from dinner in your head. Overall you’d say it was nice, all of you talking and laughing while enjoying your homemade chicken pot pie. Brendan’s dad even complimented you saying it reminded him of something his own grandmother would’ve made.

Katherine, however, didn’t appear too impressed. About a few things besides the food really.

“It’s good sweetheart, a tad bit salty, but alright,” she curtly smiled. And maybe it was just you, but you wondered if that was just a teaser for things to come.

“Does your mom like me?,” you ask as soon as your boyfriend exits the bathroom with black, satin durag in hand.

“Course she does. Why? She say somethin?”

“No, I just…” you frustratedly sigh partly regretting bringing it up as you toy with the sterling silver chain around your wrist. Specifically the one that matched Brendan’s. “I dunno I get this feeling.”

Fingers securing the last knot, his hand reaches for yours pulling you closer into his side as he slides into bed himself. The mint from his lips prickling against your temple as he places two kisses there. “Bae everything’s fine, alright? If my ma had an issue, trust she’ll say it.”

•

“I don’t like her.”

Since closing the door to their hotel-like suite of a guest room, Katherine hadn’t stopped complaining and running her mouth about you.

“I bet she invited herself tryin to squeeze her way in.”

“I dunno where she got that recipe from but it ain’t all that. And you heard how she call herself decorating everything? Tuh, Ray Charles could do better.”

Devon just wanted to watch his Lakers in peace.

“Kat just give the girl a chance. You don’t even know her.”

“And I don’t want to,” she answers walking out the bathroom rubbing some sort of cream on her arms. “Brendan‘s soon gonna be over her like all the rest.”

“You never know,” her husband simply sighs, adjusting the pillow under his chin. To anyone else, it would just be a menial statement, however Katherine could sense there was something more her dear husband might be hiding.

Turning off the flatscreen and crossing her arms across her chest, Devon’s now equally as frustrated as his wife throwing his hands out with an “Aye!,” and silently wishing he snuck to the theater room while she was in the shower.

“You knew she was gonna be here didn’t you?”

“No!”

“But you knew about her,” she states pointing a signature red manicured finger.

He might as well forget about the game. She was gonna be at this all night. “Did he outright say something? No, but from what he asked I figured there was somebody.”

“Andd?,” she asks twisting her wrist, urging Devon to come out with the rest already. “What’d he ask?”

“Father son confidentiality,” he smirks holding his hands up in surrender.

“Bullshit, I carried that big headed boy for almost 10 months you better start talking Dee.”

He chuckles knowing she’d say that. “Stuff about our relationship: how I knew you were the one, being long distance, marriage-,”

“Marriage?! They just met!”

“We don’t know-,”

“Oh lord,” she gasps beginning to pace, “she’s pregnant!”

“Nah, I don’t think-,”

“That’s why he’s thinking of marriage, meanwhile jezebel thinking she’s gettin a free ride. And the baby might not even be his!”

His wife really needed to stop watching those made for tv movies. Moving to sit on the edge of the bed, he can easily reach out and gently grip Katherine’s elbow guiding his worried wife to sit beside him.

“Relax alright? You gettin all worked up for potentially nothing,” he states pecking her temple.

“But-,”

“Get to know the girl, please. For the sake of Brendan.” Kat’s little huff is enough of an acceptable answer that he’s turning the tv back on hoping to finish the remainder of the game.

Katherine’s mind was already made up though, and this girl wasn’t about to mess with her baby and ruin everything he had. A mother’s intuition was never wrong, and she knew what needed to be done.

-

It had only been three days and you were sure you’d somehow been transported to hell at some point in your sleep. If it wasn’t her little comments about you, Katherine was either squeezing her way in your alone time with Brendan or finding a way to exclude you.

The movie night you and Brendan planned in the theater room when his parents were asleep? Crashed by her claiming she couldn’t sleep. The trip to a local tree farm to see all the Christmas lights that was supposed to be all four of you? She swears you told her you weren’t ‘feeling great’ before you went to the restroom, prompting them to leave you home.

“Maybe we can go again after Christmas?,” she suggested when they returned.

“Yea maybe,” you replied with your most saccharine smile similar to the one on her own lips.

With everyone still asleep upstairs, you took advantage of your alone time to bake your signature molasses cookies passed down to you from your mother. Like her, baking always brought you peace and filled you with fond memories of big laughs, messy hands, and flour in your hair and mysteriously on the ceiling.

“Momma I really need you right now,” you quietly speak to the open air as you mix your ingredients together finalizing your dough.

The sound of the hand mixer covers Katherine’s footsteps causing you to jump when you feel her presence over your shoulder.

“Sorry sweetheart, didn’t mean to scare you.” You really hated that nickname. Especially when it came from her mouth and would then usually come with some snide comment. “Thought you heard me when I said good mornin.”

“It’s okay and no, my mind’s uh somewhere else.”

“Yea these cookies,” she smiles watching you cutout various holiday themed shapes. “Looks like you got a good mess here too.”

Here we go. Luckily your back was towards her as she readied her coffee, giving you freedom to roll your eyes without getting caught. “Yea, I know,” you nervously chuckle. “I’m almost done though so I’ll get to them in a minute.”

“S’why you should really clean as you go. Less to do in the end.”

“True, but I get so wrapped up with-,”

“Brown and regular sugar?,” she asks noticing both containers on the counter. “They’ll be too sweet.”

Was she really trying to tell you how to make something you’ve done since you were able to walk? “No, they’ll be fine. I’ve made it plenty times before.”

“Doesn’t mean it can’t be tweaked though,” she innocently shrugs.

“Also true,” you forcibly smile feeling your skin begin to heat with frustration, “but this one is fine. It’s my mom’s recipe.”

“Two wrongs don’t make a right sweetheart.” And at that, you snapped unable to take anymore. You left your mess, your tools, and dough just needing to get away before your mouth and anger made you do something you’d regret.

You didn’t even speak to Devon as you rushed past making his brows furrow not used to you in an unpleasant mood. Seeing his wife also in the kitchen - calmly drinking out of a mug - he can guess what might’ve been the cause though. “What did you do?”

“Nothin,” Katherine answers nonchalantly before dipping a spoon into the leftover dough for a taste. “Hm, not too sweet like she said. Girl a little Miss Betty Crocker.”

“You know who you actin like right?”

“I know you betta not say who I think.”

“And because you thinking it means it’s true,” he retorts. “Bein’ just like my momma.”

“Aht, take it back!,” she points her spoon placing her mug down. “That woman never liked me from the start and let me know it. Shoot I think she still don’t like me.”

“And you not doing the same thing? That girl’s been nothing but nice and respectful to you when anybody else would’ve been said something.

His words clearly have some affect how her once stubborn expression turns soft. Her previous actions and words now all she can think of reminding her of the woman she swore she’d never be like when she had kids.

“You know you wrong Kat.”

•

“Where you goin?,” Brendan asks watching you throw your clothes in your suitcase unzipped and wide open on the floor of his walk in closet.

“Home.”

“Home? Why you-,”

“Look I know you wanted all of us to be together for Christmas, but this ain’t working B,” you answer with watery eyes still focused on the task in front of you.

“What do you mean? Aye, stop and look at me.” Gently gripping your wrists, he manages to halt your frantic packing so you’ll meet his worried eyes turning a bluish hue. “Tell me what happened.”

“I can’t with your mom and her little comments anymore,” you quietly admit. “She clearly doesn’t like me and I’m not staying somewhere I’m not wanted.”

“You are wanted. This is my house and I say you stay, alright? My ma just…takes some getting used to. And once she warms up to you-,”

Such a momma’s boy answer. “You mean if she wants to warm up to me,” you retort slipping out of his grip to return to your packing.

“I get it,” Brendan sighs, “she can be a lot. It’s just how she is though.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to deal with or accept it for the sake of your comfort.”

“Hold up, you calling me weak now?,” he asks stepping closer to you.

Slamming your suitcase shut, your arms cross over your chest looking up at the 6’3 man in front of you not daring to stand down. “No, I’m saying you’re a loyal son, which I love. But that loyalty is putting me in an environment I don’t feel safe or protected in.” You hope his silence means he’s finally taking in your words. “So I think it’s best I leave.”

He tries once more to clutch your arm as you pass, softly calling out your name, but you move just out of reach. “I’ll text when I get to my place.”

-

At the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs, Katherine quickly stands to see you with your suitcase and Brendan on your heels trying to get your attention.

“Bae I’ll handle it, just stay. Please,” he whispers.

“My Uber’s already on the way,” you reply sniffling.

“You can’t leave!,” she states making you pause just as the both of you finish your decent. One look at your reddened, tired eyes from crying and she can feel her heart break knowing she was the cause. “Listen I-,”

“Ma I don’t know what the problem is, but you need to relax,” Brendan interrupts standing in between the two most important women in his life.

“Brendan-,”

“Look I love you ma, but I can’t have you mistreating the other woman I love.” His head turns towards you - twists swishing back and forth - so you can see the sincerity and deep love behind those hypnotizing eyes. Their intensity making you breath catch in your throat and more tears ready to run. “My future wife and mother of my kids.

Even Katherine’s ready to sob at her son’s words. Anyone could see the love between you two, and at the end of the day she knew you were good for Brendan - bringing out the best in him and making him happier than she’s seen in a while - but her protective, mothering nature just couldn’t accept she might not be needed anymore.

“Thank you,” you mouth reaching for his hand to peck his knuckles.

“So whatever issue you got, handle it now or else don’t worry about coming back,” Brendan finishes with you under his arm.

“Excuse me?,” Katherine asks with an amused tilt to her lips and hands on her hips. He could feel everyone looking at him as if he’d lost his mind with that last statement, and while it felt good he admittedly might’ve gone too far.

“R-Respectfully I mean,” he quickly corrects.

“I’ll let it slide this time,” she says jokingly smacking his shoulder. “You’re right though. This whole trip I haven’t given your lovely girlfriend a chance and I’m sorry. I’ve had that happen to me and know how much it hurts, so I should’ve known better. That mama bear decided to rear her head and got the best of me.

She sighs wiping away the couple tears that managed to fall on her cheeks, “You two really do make a beautiful couple and I’m glad my boy met someone truly good for him. I’m so sorry again and know it’ll take some time, but hope you can eventually forgive me.”

“Thank you for apologizing,” you softly smile, “and hey, can’t have the holidays without some drama right?”

“I guess not,” she giggles along with Brendan and Devon. “But from here on out no more.”

Holding out her arms, she’s a bit surprised when you immediately accept her hug. Both of you holding each other tight as if the morning’s earlier events never happened. “To new beginnings and starting over.”

[universal-imagines]

Hi! I wanted to request a headcanon with Akashi, Murasakibara and Aomine (and another character if you want) about them having a female s/o who is not their original type? (Aka: elegant girls with dignity, Mura: tall girls, Ao: big breasts) Their s/o isn't really elegant lol, or has an average height etc. But they love and treasure her. They reasure their s/o, when she finds out their original type and she's insecure about it

❥ ﹝ insecurities ﹞

i. akashi seijuro

it'd been a couple of months since you'd started dating akashi, but you had yet to make it public

not that he or you were actively hiding it, the occasion just hadn't presented itself, but as time continued to pass by you began to wonder if he was ashamed of you

you'd been friends for a while and people knew the both of you were close, even when everyone else was terrified of him you were always there and he treated you like an equal so you didn't think people would be surprised if you ended up together

however, you didn't fit his type, the type everyone assumed he would eventually end up with, someone sophisticated and well-mannered, someone who oozed elegance and power...

you were just you, maybe a little loud and outspoken or maybe a little clumsy

but your insecurities were immediately dealt with when he took you by the hand and walked down the hall

it was a particularly busy day, you don't quite remember why because your mind was too preoccupied with his hand in yours, but it was probably due to festival preparations

"why did you do that?" you asked when you finally found your voice

"because i could tell something was troubling and i hadn't done anything wrong, so i figure it had to do with our relationship status"

you smiled, of course he could read you like a book

ii. murasakibara atsushi

to be honest you had expected a little more than "you're the perfect size" when you voiced your concerns about your height difference

before you guys started dating you had asked him about his type and he said he wanted someone tall so he didn't have to worry about bending down and stuff, so it had been weighing on you this whole time

you wanted some kind of reassurance that he didn't absolutely hate it, but he just shrugged and continued to eat his snacks

"well can you tell me how exactly i'm the perfect height?"

after taking a bite of a chip he titled his head, studying you for a few seconds

"when i'm tired i can rest my chin on your head and it fits perfectly, doesn't matter if i'm sitting or standing and when we're sitting down you fit perfectly against me. i can practically swallow you up with a hug and i think it's nice"

he ate a few more chips before smiling

"oh and i like the way my sweaters look on you"

iii. aomine daiki

you found the magazines he used to get bribed with by his teammates and felt your stomach drop

in all honesty, you weren't snooping or anything your foot just accidentally knocked into something under his bed and you pulled it out to make sure it wasn't damaged, you actually wished you hadn't stumbled upon his hidden stash of magazines

"what do you have there?" was his nonchalant reaction when he walked into the room

he could tell you were uncomfortable with what you'd found but he thought it was nothing more than shame or disgust that he'd keep something like that

it wasn't until a couple of days later when you brought the subject up that he realized why exactly you looked upset

"are you disappointed that i don't have a big chest like those girls... in the magazines?" you were trying to sound as casual as possible, but your body language told a whole different story

"what?" he frowned, but only got a shrug from you

"i'll admit that's the first thing i see in a girl. i'm a tits guy through and through but that's not all i care about. besides, yours are just the right size. if you had big tits i'd have to watch out for other guys..." he stopped, thinking about how that might have sounded "but that doesn't mean that's the only reason i'm dating you either. without you i wouldn't be able to function. i used to rely on momoi for everything, but now you're the person i look for, so get those stupid thoughts out of your head"

[gremlin-girly]

Kinktober Day 6

Kink: Handjobs

Pairing: Room mate!Steve Rogers x f!Room mate! Reader

Tags/ Warnings: SMUT, room mates to lovers (ig?), listening/watching of porn, JOI porn, smutty audiobook mentioned, descriptions of masturbation (m and f), praise and petnames (good boy, baby, sweetheart), handjob (m recieving), soft!dom!reader X submissive!Steve (the man just needs some taking care of)

Not Beta read (I'll have to edit my mistakes when I have the chance!)

Word Count: 2.9k

Summary: Your roommate forgets to disconnect his Bluetooth headphones from his phone, leading to an embarrassing moment between you both that segues into something more.

As always I do not give permission for my work to be reposted, translated or copied. My warnings are non-exhaustive (even though I do try to capture everything) but please read at your own risk. I am not responsible for your content consumption.

I hope you enjoy; likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated!

Part 1 (you're here) | Part 2

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A/N: And they were roommates...

Originally, I had planned for this to go in a slightly different direction - but prefferred this!

But I have to admit, I do like a good roomates to lovers and have been playing with a few ideas of a Roommate!Steve (and potentially a Roommate!Bucky) so I may have accidentally started a little collection... Sorry for posting late, migraines all day had me conked out, just a double whammy for tonight!- Love, Grem x

You’d fallen into a nice routine since moving in with Steve. He was the perfect roommate, an utter gentleman, and easy on the eyes too. You knew being Captain America was a stressful full time job, and you were surprised to find that behind the stoic, stern symbol of hope was a friendly artist from Brooklyn.

It had taken Steve some time in getting used to you being around. When he went away on his first mission outside of the US , he’d forgotten you now lived with him and had startled you on your way to the bathroom. He’d been so apologetic about it and you'd just laughed. From then on, he’d text you when he was on his way home from a mission and from then on you always made sure there were leftovers in the fridge for him.  

Occasionally you’d spend time together, watching a movie, or idle chit chat as you cooked breakfast for you both. Steve slowly but surely came out of his shell and relaxed around you – and you him – cracking jokes, gently ribbing each other. You didn’t miss the way the tips of his ears burned  when you complimented him or how your heart fluttered when he’d brush past you to throw a dirty mug into the sink. But you were just roommates.

And you were currently a roommate with dead headphones.

“Steve?” you emerged from your room and padded out into the living area, spotting Steve who quickly locked his phone looking at you with wide eyes. You locked an eyebrow as you approached. “You alright?”

“Y-Yeah.” He clears his throat and runs a hand through his hair. “Thought you were in bed.”

You shrug helplessly. “Dead headphones. Could I borrow yours whilst mine charge please? If that’s okay?”

Steve nods and twists to point over at the kitchen counter. “Yeah, sure. They should be over there somewhere.”

You waltz over to the counter and find the headphone case easily, missing how Steve’s eyes follow your figure. You turn back to him and smile, wiggling the case.

“Thanks, lifesaver. Couldn’t miss the next chapter of my book.”   

Steve smiles back  but his expression looks like a mixture of disappointment and relief that you seem to be leaving to head back to your room.  “No worries. Night.”

“Night. Don't stay  up too late, Stevie.” You say as you grasp the handle to your door.  Steve only hums in response and waits for you to be safely shut away in your room before unlocking his phone again.

He runs his hand over his face as he looks down at the videos before him. It wasn’t the first time he visited porn sites, but lately he’d found  the perfect stress relief after a day of being Captain America. He felt the shame trickle down his spine and pushed away the guilty thoughts that plagued him in moments like these. Captain America being told what to do? Having powerful women instruct  him to jerk off, shower him with praise, and tell him when to cum was more than enough for blackmail, let alone the jokes that Tony would make if the information ever saw the light of day. And you had almost caught him.

Steve shivers, palming his growing erection over his joggers. God, it was worse knowing he liked you almost catching him. Would you have flustered? Or would you have complimented his cock with that teasing smile you always seem to wear? 

Steve curses under his breath at the thought, cock twitching. He shakes his head to try and rid himself of the thought but it sticks, and he scrolls through the myriad of videos until he finds a promising one. With one final cautionary glance at your door, he shuffles his joggers and boxers down to take out his hardening cock. He only needs the volume low thanks to super soldier hearing and you’d either be fast asleep or listening to whatever audio book you were listening to this month to hear what has about to happen. Steve makes himself comfortable again the sofa pillows, leaning into them and pumping his cock a few times thinking about how good you must look right now cuddled under the covers in those tight pyjama shorts. Before he gets lots in the daydream, he hits play on the video, continuing to stroke himself but slowly now; awaiting his instructions. After a moment there’s still no sound. Steve clicks the buttons to up the volume, continuing slow ministrations and thinking of you.

Before Steve had pressed play, you had been lying in bed with the headphones in, debating whether or not you would go to hell for using your hot roommate Bluetooth headphones to listen to smut. Your body flushed at the thought but... you needed an extra helping hand before bed tonight since you’d had a particularly stressful day too. Steve didn’t need to know.

When the audio kicked in, you thought you had accidentally hit play, and allowed yourself to be subjected to your fate. You heaved a contented, almost smug sigh, eyes fluttering closed as you  reached down under the band of your pyjama shorts. The narrator’s voice sounded different somehow. Maybe they’d changed actors? Then she started giving instructions. Your frown with your eyes closed, fingers finding your clit but not moving. It isn’t until you hear the words “good boy” being uttered that your eyes fly open in horror.

Steve’s headphones are still connected to his phone.

Steve is watching porn.

Steve doesn’t know you can hear it.

Your face burns red with embarrassment and you scramble to get the earphones out of your ears. Even though you shouldn’t, you feel heat pool between your legs. You should tell him. He hasn’t realised. But would it be weird? If you disconnect the headphones he might suspect it but if you text him it’d be worse. And God forbid you see what he’s doing in the living room.

Your fingers hover over the Bluetooth icon on your phone. Your imagination is running wild and now you really don’t think you need your smutty little audiobook anymore.

The volume gets turned up on the headphones again and you can hear the woman continue talking  through instructions in a sultry voice.  You panic, blushing furiously, and rip the covers away from you. You trip out of bed, grasping at the headphones and call out.

“STEVE!”

Big mistake.

You balk. Why did you call for him? You hide your head under your hands as you hear Steve scramble in the living room, cursing as he knocks a foot against the coffee table. He bursts into your room, face flushed, and sees you lying on the floor. You don’t look up. You can’t meet his eyes.

Steve opens his mouth to ask if you’re alright, you look like you’ve fallen out of bed, but as he does he hears it. In the blind panic to help you, he forgot to hit pause. The sounds from the video echoing from the headphones in your grasp. Red creeps up Steve’s neck and face and he stammers. This was a nightmare.

“ohmygod,” he breathes out, hiding his face. “Oh- Y/N – God- How long were you-?” He stops himself clearly even more flustered by the fact you may have (totally) been listening.

You remember you still exist and your head snaps up, equally as red as Steve’s, meeting his glimmering blue eyes with an apologetic look.

“I thought it was mine.” You clarify, and Steve looks like he might pass out.

“What do you mean yours?”

“I... thought it was my audiobook.” Your voice grows quieter at your admission and you give Steve a sheepish look. You both stare at each other for an age; each wrapping your head’s around the new information you’d discovered about each other, and trying to come to terms with the tension that was now entirely palpable between you.

You were the first to speak, lips twitching into a smirk slightly. “So.... do we want to talk about this?”

The smirk made Steve’s cock twitch. There it was, the same teasing smirk you always gave him. He had been so close to cumming when you’d called out for him, and the embarrassment that followed ruined the high, but at least he’d have material to work with when he went back to his bed.

Steve held up his hands and found himself smiling nervously down at you. “No thanks, I think I’ll pass.”

“That’s it, good boy.”

You have to bite back a laugh as the woman’s voice erupts from the headphones in your hand. Steve looks like he wants the ground to swallow him.

“She’s really going for it,” you comment, trying to break the ice. Steve starts to grin but he groans. You’d heard him sigh and groan before, and it never ceased to make you hot and bothered. “I see why you like it so much.”

“Please don’t.” Steve chuckles softly. “My old heart can’t take it. I’m sorry I forgot to disconnect them.”

“S’all good.”  You clamber to your feet and hold out his headphones to him, Immediately  wiping your sweaty palms onto your pyjama shorts. “And for what it’s worth, totally normal. Don’t be too embarrassed.”

“Hrm,” Steve grumbles, looking at the headphones in his large palm. When his gaze shifts back to you, he’s smirking slightly with a raised eyebrow. “And you thought this was your...?” He can’t quite get himself to say the word porn, but you roll your eyes playfully at him.

“My porn audiobook – yes.” Your eyes narrow teasingly at him. “But I’ll only share it with you if you’re a good boy.”

Steve’s body goes rigid,  and your expression softens. “Sorry. Too soon to joke about it?”

Steve’s looking down at you, pupils blown wide, trying to learn how to breathe again and hide the fact that his cock is rock hard between you. He shakes his head gently and clears his throat.

“N-no. It’s fine.” Steve huffs, eyes still fixated on you. Heat unfurls between your thighs under his gaze.

“Steve?” Your voice is so quiet it’s barely audible. Your heart beats in your ears and you watch Steve’s Adam's apple bob as he swallows thickly.

“yeah?” his voice is hoarse, bordering on desperate.

“Do you want me to call you a good boy?” You murmur. You watch as his eyes flutter and he bites down on his plush lip, suppressing a throaty sound that you’re sure sounds like a strangled whimper that makes your pussy throb with excitement. “It’s okay. You can say it. I don’t mind.”

“Fuck.” Steve curses, half turning away from you. When he turns, you can see the tent in his joggers and you almost swoon at the sight. “We shouldn’t-“

“Not what I asked, Stevie.” You say firmly. Steve’s eyes betray his thoughts and he only nods. You offer him your hand with a soft smile. “You’re okay – I’ve got you.”

The reassurance seems to be what he needs because the super soldier allows you to lead him to your bed. You let him sit down first and you stand between his muscular thighs. He’s still almost as tall as you sitting down, but you’re just that little bit taller like this to cup his face and tilt it up towards you to capture his lips in a sweet kiss. Steve breathes hard through his nose, his eyes close, and his shoulders slowly sag as you kiss. His big hands ghost over your thighs to settle on your hips. When you pull away to take a breath, you smile down at him, still cupping his soft clean shaven face.

“Good boy,” Your murmur against his lips and Steve audibly sighs in delight. “Now, undress and lay back for me. I wanna take care of you.”

You don’t need to tell him twice. His shirt is the first thing to go, tossed to the floor somewhere. Your eyes rake down his chest and your hands follow tracing the outlines of his taut muscles. He shivers underneath your touch and his breathing hitches when you reach the waistband of his joggers. There's barely anything left to the imagination with Steve's length straining against the thing fabric and you watch as Steve's blue eyes look up at you one last time; searching yours in case you want to back out. Before the point of no return.

He obeys, quietly shuffling back. His breathing is deep and laboured, his eyes never leave you as you kneel between his legs on your bed. You're hot all over - you dreamed of having him in your bed but now that he was here you almost felt self-conscious. But you had meant what you said when you told him you wanted to take care of him. Gently wrapping your fingers around his cock, the heat and hardness of the smooth skin making your mouth water, you pump a few times to adjust your grip. Steve lets out a breathy sigh but watches closely.

You swallow and nod at him, urging him with a barely audible "Go on," as encouragement. When Steve's cock is free, you lick your lips subconsciously at the sight. Big was an understatement and there's a dribble of pre-cum leaking from the tip already. You can feel Steve watching you, patiently waiting instruction, and your eyes meet his again.

"Further back onto the bed, Stevie."

You set a steady rhythm, Steve's breath hitching as you pump his weeping cock and shower him with praises making his head fall back into your pillows with muffled moans. As sexy as it was watching Steve try to suppress his moans by biting his (ridiculously) soft lips, you were desperate to hear them. Especially if, after tonight, things became... awkward at best.

"Don't keep those pretty sounds from me," You coo lasciviously at him, letting a blob of spit slowly roll from your tongue and drip onto the tip of his cock. The gasp Steve emits makes his whole body jerk, and heat rushes to his face. His cock twitches as you pump him harder, faster and now slicker, smirking up at him with that devilish grin he sees every night before he closes his eyes.

"Oh, fuuuuck." Steve moans loudly, and you chuckle; pleased he listened and pleased by how his eyes roll back and how he can't seem to stop his hips jerking.

"You were such a good boy Stevie but you should have said something. And let me take care of you." Your voice is low and seductive, you barely recognise it's you who's speaking. It's not often you get to be like this and your brain (or another organ entirely) is speaking without thinking.

"That's it baby, be nice and loud for me."

Steve huffs, brows furrowing softly trying to focus himself; which only spurs you on more. You grip his cock a little harder, expertly gliding your hand up and down.

"You like thinking about this when you're alone, Stevie? When I've been across the hall this entire time?"

"Shit, yes - oh." Steve groans again, cock twitching in your palm. You feel a sense of pride, and a flutter of something you dare not mention, at the confession. You're glad it's not just one-sided attraction, at the very least.

"Mm, I should have." Steve hums, breathing becoming heavier and heavier by the second. You are relentless, pumping him with the occasional trail of drool, and unabashed praises of him just to watch him squirm under your touch.

"Your cock is so pretty Stevie," Your murmur to him, watching his sac tighten as you fist his cock faster. "I can't wait to taste it."

Both the comment itself and the very thought of having your lips around his cock, make Steve cum so hard his vision blurs for a few seconds. His face and neck are flushed and he's coated in his own cum, panting hard with his eyes closed. You smile at the sight, committing it to memory before any guilt or shame sets in. You stealthily move over him to your bedside table to grab some wet wipes. Steve barely moves at the shift on the bed, but his eyes peek over to you and you gently smile down at him. You pull a wet-wipe free and hand it to him, unsure how he'd react to you cleaning him up.

"You okay, sweetheart?" You ask softly, sitting against the edge of the bed as Steve graciously takes the wipe from you. His face his bright red still and you start feeling the nibbles of guilt at the edges of your mind. You had both been willing and horny... but perhaps jeopardising your friendship to make Captain America cum wasn't the smartest idea.

"Mm." Steve clears his throat, still avoiding eye contact, and takes another wet-wipe. You fight the urge to make a joke about the super-soldier amount of cum. Not now.

"Hey," You reach out to touch his shoulder but stop when Steve looks over at you with his baby blues still blown wide. "This doesn't have to change anything if you don't want it to. We can pretend this never happened."

You shuffle awkwardly on the edge of your bed, grasping your hands in your lap. "But I... liked it. And I wouldn't mind if you wanted to... spend the night in here."

"I think I'd like that." He mumbles. "And I think I'd like to do it again sometime."

You can't tell if you've crossed the line from reassurance to worry for a moment. The silence drags for what feels like an eternity until Steve's features go from flustered to soft, with that cute smile he does so well.

Now it's your turn to go red. "Good. Great."

Steve chuckles. "But first, since you heard my audio... I think it's fair I heard yours."

[yaksha-lover]

i’m obsessed with the thought of vil falling for someone who’s ugly. especially if it’s a forced proximity trope. triple points if it’s enemies to lovers!

there’s just something about a guy obsessed with beauty is shown that beauty doesn’t equal to value that melts me

omg i actually was obsessed with this concept a few months ago and i wrote a very short unfinished drabble (set in medieval au) about knight!vil falling for ‘ugly’ knight!reader but i didn’t think anyone would want to read about an ‘ugly’ reader 😭😭

i definitely agree tho the concept is so perfect for vil imo. like the idea of this guy who’s so fixated and obsessed with beauty (especially one who’s potentially been told that much of his worth lies in his looks) who ends up falling for someone very unconventional completely unintentionally. like theres’s a whole internal struggle in him that he doesn’t want to fall in love with this person. they’re an enemy, and unattractive at that.

but then he just can’t help but falling in love with their character; when they give hope to him and represent a goodness that he’d lost. someone who is called ugly and unwanted everyday by the world and manages to keep their head held high even if tears are pouring down their cheeks.

i think that’s a quality he’d admire a lot; kindness even when the world has been unkind. he wants to be good like that too. in a way, you’re like a mirror of the kind of goodness he wants to see in himself. you’re made fun of and put down at every turn and yet you do not let that stop you from being nice. whenever someone mocks vil, he can’t let it go, he can’t let himself be kind because it hurts and that’s the only protection he’s found.

also the idea of consciously thinking someone is unattractive but unconsciously starting to notice their eyes and lips and desire settling in- help-

unfinished drabble under the cut 👉👈 (also its fem reader bc i think medieval gender roles and the idea of ‘ugly’ woman x hot man couple is kind of important to the theme lol - aka this is just jaime x brienne rewritten but anyway-)

Vil truly believed you were ugly when he first met you. He almost never truly meant the term, but in this case, it was appropriate. Most everyone you encountered agreed. He could tell by how you’d stayed stone-faced at his cruel taunts, apparently used to it. Your features were just a bit too extreme, too out of place, too different. He’d used your appearance against you, scratching at every insecurity you’d thought of and probably some you hadn’t. Still, you hadn’t gotten angry as he’d hoped. You didn’t seek to harm him, even when he knew he’d struck a sore spot.

He persevered, but you’d never given in, despite his hopes that you would become blinded enough by anger and pain to give him a chance to escape. He admired you, in a way. It seemed as though life had beaten you down long before he’d come along, but a hardened rock had emerged from the erosion.

Sometimes his words would cut too deep for you to ignore. You never did anything rash, to his dismay, but he could tell they affected you. He didn’t feel bad; why should he? He was your hostage, and you his captor. Even if you were performing your duty, you were getting in the way of his own responsibilities, his life.

Vil was surprised to learn that you were a high-born like himself. Well, not exactly born to a family of his status and wealth, but a high-born nonetheless. He’d realized that he should’ve been addressing you with your Lady title, but you’d fought at soon as he’d tried.

No matter my origin, you know that no man sees me as a lady, Sir Vil.

-

They came, and they cut off his hair. One of them taunted him for being a beautiful husk. So they’d cut a deep gash across his face. Now your outside matches your inside, ‘Sir’, they’d mocked.

Vil had wished they’d cut off his head instead.

Later, after you’d managed to convince them to let you treat his wounds, he’d bemoaned to you.

Now we’re both grotesque, he’d said, a pair of freaks.

You’re not ugly, you just have a scar, you’d replied. You turned away from your task to face him. You’ll never know what it means to be ugly.

Even with his bitter remarks, you treated his wounds all the same. When he was too afraid to face himself in the reflection of the lake, you’d been the one to peel away his bandages and force him to look.

See, you’d said, not a monster, just a man.

He’d wondered if you were an angel at that moment, a saint. Or maybe you were a witch destined to lead him astray. He hadn’t really cared either way.

[zyonsay]

People do not appreciate Max's thighs enough so Max x male reader where reader just appreciates his thighs 🙏 maybe suggestive? Tysm 😭

You look good MV1

Fem aligned people may read but not f3tishize my work!!

Summary: Getting to know Max a little... better

Reader: Genderneutral ( i think lol)

Warnings: Suggestive

Now playing: 'Brooklyn Baby' by Lana del Rey

AN: ANON YOU'RE SO REAL FOR THAT. I've been thinking about his thighs so much lately istg. Like they are so meaty i just wanna bite into them. Thank you for the request anon, i hope you enjoy!

You’ve been ogling him for the whole evening, little did you know that Max was well aware of that. Currently, you were enjoying some margheritas on a sleek, white yacht in Monaco. The night settled in; you didn’t know what time it was though. Originally you had arrived with a small group of friends, but by now all of them either left with a man or were currently emptying their stomachs over the rim of the toilet bowl.

You were part of Redbull’s PR team, so you’ve gotten to know Max and Checo a while ago. Though you worked more with the editing of videos and social media posts than actually talking to the two drivers. From time to time, you all shared a hello or a goodbye, but nothing more.

But this evening was different. After Christian had urged you to relax, so you took a couple days off. This was also when you saw that Charles Leclerc would be hosting a yacht party. ‘perfect’, you thought. This was your chance to let loose and maybe meet some new people.

Not a new person, but Max Verstappen himself came up to you. He signaled the bartender to bring you two drinks, while keeping his eyes on you. His smile was sweet, but something playful glinted in his eyes.

“You look really nice.”, it was a simple, direct compliment, but it was the way he said it and the look he had in his blue eyes. His smile was as sweet as honey, and he looked at you like you hung the stars and moon in the sky. You felt a warm feeling flush over your face and your heart skipped a beat. Thank you, you too though.”, feeling a bit nervous you began playing with the hem of your satin dress shirt. “This might be sudden – but I want to get to know you.”, he stated it so bluntly, but after all it suited the type of person he was. Your eyes widened lightly as the meaning of his words kicked in. Though shortly after a shy smile made its way to your lips, before you took a swig of your drink. “Me too.” Max was enjoying seeing you all flustered and smiley. He slid a careful hand onto your thigh, though stopping his movement a bit above you knee. His eyes met yours, as if asking for permission. You weren’t sure if it was the lighting, but suddenly he was glowing in golden hues and everything around you two became a blurry mess.

A string of curses left Max’s form as he tried swiping his card key. His posture was a bit wobbly, and his skin felt like it was burning. Your hands roamed his chest as you kissed along his neck, sucking, and nipping occasionally. Finally, a quiet beep erupted from the lock and Max let out a grateful sigh. He pulled you inside, closing the door and slamming you right against it in quick motion. While groaning lightly, your hands found the buttons on his shirt, tugging at them and opening them one by one. Max was also working away at opening your shirt and pants. His tipsiness didn’t stop him from undressing you surprisingly fast though.

But this night wasn’t going to go the way he intended, no. The room was dimly lit by a lamp on the nightstand, you could barely see enough. With a mischievous smile, you pushed him backwards with your hand on his chest. He obediently backed up until the back of his legs hit the bed. After giving him a sweet peck, you pushed him onto the bed. His eyes widened lightly as he fell, but soon after hitting the mattress, he propped himself up with his elbows while a slight smirk played across his face. The night was clear, there wasn’t a single cloud in sight. The stars sparkled and shimmered while the moon watched over them. You crawled onto the mattress, caressing Max’s legs and thighs.

One last look into his eyes and you began kissing the inside of his right thigh while massaging the other one with your hand. A desperate sigh escaped the man under you, he now threw his head back while panting with passion and anticipation. His skin reddened quickly as you sucked and bit it. One of your hands reached up, lacing your fingers with his. His thighs were littered with love bites and sweet bruises. Your teasing had Max seeing stars, just like the ones outside in the nights sky.

His hand found its way into your fluffy hair, tugging on it as he whined desperately.

You chuckled darkly, “Use your words”

[beauty-and-passion]

And finally... the Ithaca Saga

We did it. We reached the end.

And we did it this year, in 2024! I suppose the moral of the story is: if you're truly passionate about something (and have big plans), you can do anything.

And by "anything", I don't mean just "finishing the concept album": I mean fighting against weather, bad luck and probably the gods themselves, to do what you planned.

I imagined everything, except that Mr. Jorge's plan for the final stream of his entire album, was to go to the goddamn island of Ithaca and stream there.

But, you know, it was right. It felt right. It was a very poetic choice, to bring a modern version of the Odyssey back home. To let the musical reach its artistic birthplace. And it's even more impactful that it wasn't just Odysseus' voice to (figuratively) return home: it was the entire story, through the voices of all artists involved.

However, since it's the Odyssey we're talking about, the trip to Ithaca couldn't have been simple either: what kind of boring story would it be, if everything went smoothly from start to end?

Greece's weather is overall warm, even in winter. However, there are the occasional storms/typhoons/rainfalls that last for a couple days and drown or destroy parts of the cities. And Jorge faced them not at the end of his trip, not in the middle: at the beginning, just in time to stop him from reaching Ithaca too easily.

And I believe this is all Ithaca's influence, because something similar happened to my father and brother. Last summer, they were supposed to visit Ithaca as well, but first found no available ferries, then the rain started to pour down, their car died on the nearby island, there was no available mechanic and when they finally found one, their car got fixed just in time for my brother to go to Athens and get his flight back home.

Sooo... it looks like Ithaca doesn't want visitors at all, no matter if it's summer or winter, and it does everything to keep people away - or at least, to make them have a small personal Odyssey before reaching it. Also because, according to the last shorts from Jorge, it looks like the weather changed into the usual warm, greek temperatures now. And he seems to enjoy his stay too, so I suppose the true obstacle is just reaching the island.

But enough about Ithaca, let's talk about Ithaca: there were huge expectations for this Saga. This is the final one, this is supposed to wrap up Odysseus' story and the last loose threads.

And it does. It takes its time to wrap up the last characters and it does it organically and coherently. There are no OOC moments - and this is a huge point for me, because my main complaint in the last Saga was that Odysseus moved too quickly from "let's try to discuss" to "stabbing time": here you can see and understand why he gets so angry and he even takes a few lines to further clarify his emotions.

The pace of this Saga is good too: there are no dead moments and the songs move smoothly from one event to the next. It surely helps that they cover a period of 24 hours more or less, but still.

__________________

The Challenge: this is the first time we actually hear Penelope. Not the one from Odysseus' memories, not a siren, not a vision, but the real one.

And the real one is truly the perfect woman for a clever man like Odysseus: she's intelligent, she's resourceful, she reads the signs and does the right things to buy more time. That's what she did in the Odyssey too, so it's nice to see this trait of her character here as well.

And even though the events here happen for slightly different reasons (in the Odyssey, the bow challenge was just another attempt to buy more time, while here it's something Penelope proposes right after the storm, as if she feels things are going to change very soon and her husband is coming back), it still doesn't sound forced or unnatural. It fits Epic's narrative, without damaging or going against the spirit of the original work. That's how you do a good rewrite.

One last thing about Penelope: I love how, with one single song, we can see her pride, her strength, her cleverness... and her love too. She herself says she didn't expect to end up like this, but for love, she's ready to do anything. Even waiting 20 years for a husband she doesn't even know if he's still alive, buying him time in every possible way and keeping on hold 108 dangerous, younger men who need just an excuse to rise against her and her family.

__________________

Hold Them Down: what did I say about that excuse?

Jokes aside, this is some powerful villain song and I ADORE it. The rhythm? Great, majestic, terrifying. The drums and the chorus are chilling.

But even more than them, it's the entire song, to be terrifying. And not because of its themes: it's because of the details.

Antinous doesn't just say "We will kill Telemachus and rape Penelope": he describes step by step what he wants to do. He presents a clear, precise plan of what he wants to do and how he wants to do it.

That's what makes it so chilling: how careful he is with the details. How he pondered about everything. His willingness to do all the things he says, without an ounce of doubt or fear.

And what's even more terrifying, is how Antinous' words are welcomed by the chorus of the other Suitors. There is no coldness, no shock, no fear: there is this palpable, growing excitement, that grows stronger the more he describes his plan. The chorus accompanies his words, anticipates them eagerly: they cannot wait to hear what he wants to do next.

And when Antinous says Penelope will be at their mercy after Telemachus' death, silence drops for a moment and the line: "And then we'll" is welcomed by pure silence. This perfectly shows how all Suitors held their breath, for one second, waiting for Antinous to say it out loud, to push his plan further and say what they were all thinking: without a man in the house, they could've had access to the queen's bedroom and body. They were waiting to hear it. They wanted, needed to hear more.

This is how you make a great villain song. This is how you build a terrifying villain: it's not just Antinous, who can stir up an entire crowd, by pushing on their primordial instincts. But it's the crowd itself, that welcomes the terrible images he proposes, because they were already in their minds. They were already thinking all of that: all they needed was someone to propose it out loud.

Of course Odysseus goes into full rampage mode after that: who wouldn't?

One last detail I appreciated a lot: the allusion about how the prince was on a diplomatic mission. Sure he was, that's how Odyssey starts: Telemachus leaves Ithaca to search for more news about his father, visits Sparta, Menelaus tells him about the Troyan horse and so on. It was a nice reference.

__________________

Odysseus: a song better known as "Odysseus cleans his house from 20 years of filth".

I've already talked about the first lines and I appreciate them a lot, not just because they further clarify Odysseus' thoughts and actions, but also because they imply he spent some time in Ithaca before this moment, enough to see how the Suitors treated his palace. There's a huge lack of Argo, the only dog who lived something like 20+ years and died right after seeing his owner one last time, but I suppose that his dog's death would've sent him into ultraviolence mode instantly.

I lovelovelove the ensemble chanting Odysseus' name. It's solemn, it's ineluctable, it reminds me of old church hymns and I am a sucker for that stuff.

But I am also a very bad person, so when I listen to Eurymachus saying "hey, what if you spare us and welcome the world with open arms instead" and he gets slaughtered with a "no" as a reply, I laugh.

Yes, I am a bad person.

Okay, fine, we can acknowledge how this wasn't what Polites meant with open arms and how no one has been able to fully understand his mentality... but also, it works perfectly to show how Odysseus changed. In the past, he would've been tricked by these words - and it would've led to him losing more people he loves.

But after going through so much shit, he's not willing to trust others anymore. The time of open arms is gone forever. As he says, "And as long as you're around / My family's fate is left unknown".

And so, it's ruthlessness time. Because, as Poseidon told him, ruthlessness is mercy upon ourselves. And Odysseus would find peace, only if he gets rid of all the dangers around.

Because come on, we know the Suitors would've found a way to still try to kill or hurt him and/or his family. They don't play fair, they said themselves. Sparing them would've only hurt Odysseus in the long run.

And if we consider the time period, killing all the opponents was all Odysseus could do, to regain control over Ithaca.

Think about it: he has been away for 20 years, leaving the island without an adult male ruler. Of course this led all other, younger men to become restless and prideful and do things they would never do, without a strong leader: like trashing the leader's palace or trying to hurt his family.

Odysseus' only way to regain control was to show everyone he was still the strongest. And the only way he could do it, was to get rid of all the people who were undermining his authority. This way, he got rid of the dangerous ones and taught everyone else a lesson: do not even try to oppose my authority again, because I am still the strongest man of this land - and therefore, the only leader.

__________________

I Can't Help but Wonder: so, right after showing everyone he was still the ruler and the stronger and so ruthless, Odysseus takes his time to softly listen to his son and tell him how much he loves him.

No, I am not crying, I got this song stuck in my eye.

But seriously: the softness, the love, the affection he holds for his son. And how this is all beautifully portrayed through Jorge's voice.

I know others already said it, but the way he modulates his voice is incredible. He really sounds older here, an old man talking to this young boy who is so confused and full of doubts about his own strength... and like the father figure Telemachus always wanted, Odysseus reassures him: he's sure his son is strong, he understands his pain and the troubles he experienced. And he loves him, with the unconditional love a father has for his child.

I said I am not crying.

The Athena part has been a surprise: honestly, I feared Jorge forgot and we would never see a closure for them, but we actually got it!

And it was a very good one: Athena asks if there is a world where empathy is stronger than fighting. A world where people can understand each other more and not always resort to violence and ruthlessness.

There's an implicit invitation in her words: would Odysseus help her pursue this world? Would he still be her warrior and work for this new, greater tomorrow?

And Odysseus refuses. He's too old, too tired. This world is too far beyond his reach. We are still trying to reach it and we are getting glimpses of it in our everyday lives.

Athena, thanks to her immortality, can live long enough to see this far-away future, but Odysseus? Maybe in the past, when he was younger, he would've loved to see it. Now he's had enough of adventures. All he wants is to finally see his wife again.

And Athena proves her growth, by that simple "very well". You can hear a smile in her tone. She's not angry at him, she's not resentful: Odysseus made his choice and she's okay with it. Their paths divide forever, not with bitterness but with understanding.

__________________

Would You Fall in Love with Me Again: better known as "I am not crying, I said I am not, I just got the Odyssey stuck in my eye".

Odysseus reveals his wife all the awful things he did, he insists he's not the same man - Tiresias told him too, he's not the same kind and gentle husband he was and he will never be anymore: he's a man marked by hardships, by the war, by the world.

By saying it, he reminds me of the war veterans, the people who faced horrors and survived, to come back as changed people. Odysseus is one of them: the war left a mark on him and the following 20 years deepened that mark, made new ones, scars and terrors that will haunt him forever.

So of course he's not the same and he will never be: life and its hardships changed him too much to come back to the naive, younger man he was.

And yet, despite everything, Odysseus is still the same man. And Penelope proves it, through the bed trial. Again, I love how it has been used here: in the Odyssey, it was Penelope's way to be sure the weird beggar-looking guy who just killed everyone truly was her husband. Here it's her way to prove to him first that yes, he still is her husband. He may be rougher, more ruthless, filled with more regrets and anger than before... but he's still him. And she doesn't care what he did: all she cares about is that he's finally back.

Does that make Penelope a bad person too? Personally, I think it makes her more human. She spent 20 years imprisoned in her own house, with 108 possible predators trashing her place, desperately trying to buy more time for a husband she didn't even know if he was still alive, all while trying to hold the predators down as long as possible, so they wouldn't hurt her or Telemachus. Can we really blame her, if she doesn't care about what her husband did to come back, as long as he's finally back?

__________________

A truly passionate project

Epic the musical is a project overflowing with love. Every artist, every voice, every song is filled with passions and emotions and they shine here, in the final Saga, more than ever. Jorge's voice has been incredible, the way he went from sounding like an old father, to a younger man again. How we shifted from love and affection, to anger.

Penelope? Amazing, brilliant, incredible. All female voices are A+ and she's no exception.

The instrumentals? Always on point, they highlight the emotions and the mood of every song perfectly.

All the artists? Incredibly fitting, superb voices. Each of them did an amazing job with their characters, each of them brought their own spin to it and made them iconic. I don't think we'll easily forget characters like Hermes, Circe, Calypso, Athena, Scylla, Tiresias or Zeus. I know I won't.

And yes, I will fondly keep this version of the Odyssey close to my chest. It's so hard to find good modern versions, now that I found one, I won't forget it so easily.

__________________

The end?

The concept album is done, but that doesn't mean Epic is over. Jorge already said he wants to make videogames and, hopefully, give the musical some live adaptation.

So it's now right to say this is the end: this is the first step of a bright future for this series. And I personally can't wait for what it will bring.

In the meantime, as always, do not forget to stream the Ithaca Saga (and the whole musical for that matter), support Jorge and show love to all the people involved: they deserve it. Every last bit of love. It would be only fair, considering how much love and commitment they poured into this project.

That's why I would like to thank them all again for their hard job. It has been a truly wonderful journey and I can't wait for what 2025 will bring them - and us.

[everybodyshusband]

ditching chores/sneaking kisses

mushy may ; day twenty one !! (approx 3.6k words)

read under the cut or on ao3 :)

this was meant to be romantic and it just turned very, very silly jdsfhd

————— 1 —————

The first thing Rain saw when he appeared in the summoning circle was a giant. Well, okay after he’d had a few seconds to fully take him all in he was pretty sure he was just an exceptionally tall earth ghoul, but giant worked well for the moment. When the noise, smoke and chaos calmed down, slithering back through the circle and into the ether of the pits, Rain tried to stand and take stock of his surroundings. Just as he managed to haul himself up into a standing position, something in his leg buckled but before he could hit the ground he found himself caught up in a strong pair of arms.

“Careful, kid. Don’t want you injuring yourself after only being here five seconds.”

Rain rolled his eyes. “Just because you’re a giant, doesn’t mean everyone around you is a kid, earthy.”

“Oh, he’s feisty!” Someone else’s voice rang out in the small stone room; a damp looking multi ghoul wrapped in an oversized grey blanket. He must be a new summon as well. “I think I’m going to like him.” His grin was sharp and infectious, Rain smiled back. Had he already made a friend?

The earth ghoul chuckled at their exchange. “My name’s Mountain. Do you have one?”

Rain tore his eyes away from the multi to pay attention to Mountain. “Uh huh,” he nodded. “Rain.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Rain,” yet another voice spoke, but this one’s owner wasn’t a ghoul. His face was painted in intentional strokes of black and white, the markings around his eyes and cheeks clearly meant to resemble a skull and he was dressed entirely in liturgical vestments, his mitre bearing the mark of the Ghost Project. No way. Rain had heard whispers of a project of this nature in the Pit, nothing proven, nothing concrete; a division of the Old One’s church Up Top spreading His word through song all over the world. He hadn’t believed it at the time, it had all sounded too far fetched but… here it was.

“Papa Emeritus?”

The man—although he was a bit more than that if the rumours were true, wasn’t he—looked taken aback. “You know who I am?”

“Of course I do?” Rain was shocked that he wasn’t aware of his own fame. “In the Pit, there’s been rumours of what you’ve been doing for what feels like forever.”

Papa tutted. “Interesting… This is what Swiss told me earlier.” At Rain’s questioning head tilt he apologised. “Ah, of course! Sorry, that’s Swiss there.” He pointed to the newly summoned multi ghoul. Swiss poked a hand out of his blanket and waves, still grinning. “He was summoned only a few minutes before you were.” He continued pointing out and naming all of the ghouls in the room, there are so many more than Rain originally thought he saw, too caught up in being pulled up to a different world, he supposed.

After explaining the basics to Rain—introducing him to his new pack, laying out the exact purpose of his summoning, what his role will be if he chooses to accept it—Papa smiled and pat him on the back. “I think that’s more than enough information for now though, hmm? Mountain, how about you take Rain to get settled in and Aether, you can do the same for Swiss?”

“Sounds perfect, Papa,” Mountain smiled, squeezing Rain from where his arm is still wrapped around his shoulder; Rain was back on his feet now, but Mountain never let him go properly, presumably still worried he wouldn’t remain steady on his feet once he’d started to walk around the room.

“C’mon, Rain.” He began to wrap a blanket identical to Swiss’ around Rain’s shoulders. It was much warmer than it looked. “I’ll show you around the den and the grounds if you’re feeling up to it.”

Rain nodded. “That sounds nice, thanks, Mountain.”

Mountain smiled and Rain had just enough time to notice that one of his front teeth had a tiny chip in it. He squeezed his arm around Rain just hard enough to pull him closer to the earth ghoul and pressed a quick kiss to the top of his head. Rain blushed “Cool! Alright, we’ve got a lot to cover. We should head off now before it gets too late.”

————— 2 —————

It had been a few weeks since Rain had been summoned now and he could happily say he was settling into life at the Ministry well. He was learning the parts for his music with Dew’s help and everyone said he and Swiss—who was taking his singing and guitar lessons from Dew, Aether and Papa— were progressing nicely. He wasn’t even the newest summon anymore! Two air ghoulettes had been summoned about a week after he and Swiss and they seemed to be adjusting well too. The four of them—Rain, Swiss, Cirrus and Cumulus—had become a group of their own of sorts. It wasn’t as if they didn’t spend time with the others, of course they did, but it was nice that the four of them were able to bond over being fresh to Earth and not understanding certain human customs that had evolved since the last time they’d all been Up Top when they were human.

He’d been settling into his chores now as well. His favourite, without a doubt, was helping Mountain in the greenhouses and gardens on the Abbey’s grounds. All he had to do was water the plants and regulate the humidity, but he was able to write off a whole day just to sit and talk with Mountain while he worked. Occasionally he’d lend a hand, but more often than not, Mountain insisted that Rain need not do anything but sit there and be good company for him.

His favourite day by far had been when he’d been helping the earth ghoul to weed and mulch his flower beds. The two of them had become covered in soil, roots and mulching hay and had ended the day by running off to the lake to clean themselves off, whooping with laughter the entire time. Before they’d run off to the lake however, Mountain had reached out a hand to brush a patch of dirt off of Rain’s cheek, no doubt leaving an equally dirty smudge behind in his wake but Rain didn’t mind. Especially when what had followed the brushing off was a quick, shy peck of Mountain’s lips on his cheek. The earth ghoul had come close enough for Rain to appreciate the light dusting of freckles covering his face from all his days working in the gardens, particularly concentrated on his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. Rain wanted to christen every single one with a kiss as gentle as the one Mountain had just given his cheek but before he could do so, the earth ghoul had pulled back and with a grin.

“Race you to the lake, raindrop,” he’d called. “Last one there is on dinner duty for a week!”

————— 3 —————

The few weeks after that had passed in a whirlwind of activity. Rain was busy every single day. Between taking on a few extra duties for a week or two as a favour for Zephyr after they’d been sequestered away to the infirmary and practising all the new songs he’d learnt on his bass at every single spare moment, he was running on empty. It was no surprise to anyone but Rain when he got sick.

“You were exhausted, waterlily,” Mountain explained gently as he stirred the bowl of soup he’d brought Rain to help cool it down. “You need to give your body and your mind space to relax from all the stress you’re putting yourself under. Open up?”

“I can feed myself, Mount,” Rain protested, keeping his mouth firmly closed.

“I know you can. But I want to help, so open.”

Rain rolled his eyes playfully as he opened his mouth for Mountain to spoon the soup into, holding back a sigh of pleasure as the warm soup soothed his scratchy throat.

“You need to find something you can do that lets you relax and release the stress of the day off of your shoulders,” Mountain explained, quickly putting a finger over Rain’s lips when he opened his mouth to protest. “Eat with your mouth closed, love,” he teased. Rain didn’t like to admit the butterflies that hearing the pet name in Mountain’s voice gave him, but it felt nice. “I know you have your bass, but at the moment it’s also stressing you out. It’s understandable, of course with the tour coming up soon, you want to be the best you can be before we head off.” Curse Mountain for always somehow knowing what Rain was going to say. “But at the moment it’s only going to make you worse if you’re stressing yourself out enough that you’re getting sick and unable to practise.”

Rain opened his mouth to protest again but this time, instead of telling him to be quiet, Mountain shut him up by putting another spoon of soup in his mouth, that bastard.

“Zephyr’s back from the infirmary soon though,” he mused. “So hopefully you’ll have less work to stress you out, but,” he continued. “If Zephyr’s still not up to doing everything when you’re better, you will ask someone to help you. A load meant for two people on top of practising for the tour isn’t sustainable or healthy for you, Rain. Can you promise me that?”

Rain nodded and quickly swallowed his mouthful of soup. “I promise, Mount. And… thank you for taking care of me.”

“Always,” Mountain smiled. “Are you sure you can manage feeding yourself the soup? I’m happy to stay if you need help,” he teased.

“I think I’ll be fine, thanks,” Rain grinned. You spooned those few mouthfuls perfectly though.”

Mountain laughed. “Good to know my skills aren’t going unappreciated.” He leant down and pressed a soft kiss to Rain’s forehead. His lips were surprisingly cool against Rain’s boiling head. “Call me if you need me for anything, alright? Any time of day and I’ll come running to help.” He got up off the side of Rain’s bed and flicked his bedside lamp on, flicking the overhead light off on his way to the door. Rain hadn’t even realised how the harsh light had been affecting him until Mountain turned it off. “Get well soon, Rainy,” he smiled, closing the door on his way out.

————— 4 —————

A few days after Rain recovered from his illness, he found himself back in the greenhouses, chatting the afternoon away with Mountain. Despite his offers to help, Mountain insisted that Rain just relax and not worry.

“I asked Mist to come in this morning and help with the humidity,” he explained. “You’ve met her, right? Oh, good! Either way, it’s all sorted, Rainy. Don’t worry about anything other than giving yourself time to rest.”

Rain had just nodded, secretly pleased for this time that he could spend with Mountain, free from chores and practice and responsibilities. It was autumn now and the leaves around the Ministry were turning every possible hue of orange, yellow and red. As well as this—and arguably more exciting in Rain’s eyes—Mountain’s army of caterpillars were beginning to emerge from their chrysalides as butterflies and flutter around the greenhouses. More than once, Rain had become somewhat of a butterfly magnet, with many of them landing on him after he’d sat still for a long enough period of time.

“Have you ever heard of butterfly kisses?”

Mountain’s voice was enough to startle both Rain and the butterfly that had found a perch on his finger. “Butterfly huh?” Was all the water ghoul could manage as he caught his breath from the unexpected fright.

“Butterfly kisses,” Mountain repeated. “They’re called that because it’s supposed to feel like butterfly wings caressing your skin.”

Rain tilted his head. The earth ghoul was so much less subtle than he thought himself to be. “I don’t think I get it,” he said, knowing full well the smirk on his face gave away that he understood exactly what Mountain meant. “Can you show me?”

Mountain grinned and nodded. “Give me your arm?” Rain obliged. “All I do is bring your arm up to my face,” he explained as he mimicked his words. “Then I get my eyes really close and blink, like that.”

Rain squirmed. “Ah, no, that tickles, Mount!”

The earth ghoul pouted exaggeratedly. “Do you think it will tickle on your face?”

Rain almost snorted. “You’re really not coming across as innocent as you wish you were, Mount,” he laughed. “But sure, go ahead, butterfly boy. Kiss me.”

Mountain obliged, moving even closer to the water ghoul, letting his breath ghost over his cheeks before fluttering his eyelashes over the soft skin there. His breath was warm but it soothed the tickle of his eyelashes enough that Rain didn’t have to squirm away. Although he’s not sure that he would have moved anyway, even if it had rendered him to a tickle-avoidant mess. He treasures his time with Mountain too much.

————— 5 —————

The night before the band goes away on tour is always cause for a big celebration, Mountain told him. This year, the Ministry is hosting a grand ball complete with fancy clothes—which is apparently just another way to say formal clothes, not fancy dress like Rain had hoped—and formal dances. The ghouls and Papa are all attending together and Mountain had already promised to stay with Rain for most of the night, not that Rain needed babysitting, but Sathanas, if he had to talk to an enormous room full of people for hours on end then he needed someone with him, if only to make sure he didn’t rip someone’s throat out if they tried to engage in yet another round of small talk with him.

It’s safe to say that Rain had… well, perhaps blossomed is the right word, in the few months since he’d been summoned. He was definitely more comfortable in telling people to fuck off before he killed them, at least. After a few months of trying to play the role of a human, he was finally growing more comfortable in presenting himself as the demonic hell beast he was.

A sudden hand on his shoulder interrupted his musings and made him jump.

“Sorry, raincloud,” Mountain soothed. “It’s just me.”

“How goeth the search for drinks, my dear sir?” Rain joked, recalling Dew’s complaints that these events always felt stuffy and overly formal, like those renaissance movies he pretends to hate.

“Alas, loyal comrade,” Mountain replied, playing along. “Lady Cumulus snatched them from mine own hand whilst I was returning to you with my spoils.” He got down on one knee and threw his hands up in the air. “How will you ever forgive me?”

Rain threw his head back laughing. “I’m sure I’ll survive, Mount. Now get up off the floor, you’re going to ruin your pants and Aether’s going to yell at you if he has to sew on another knee patch for you.”

“I’ll just ask Cirrus then,” Mountain retorted, obeying Rain all the same. “I’m still in her good books.”

“Nope. I think they’re conspiring against you. Remember last time you asked her to mend something she never gave it back?” He nudged the earth ghoul with his shoulder. “I’m pretty sure the two of them are convinced that if they slowly steal your clothes over time, eventually you’ll give up on wearing them altogether.”

“I– What?” Mountain spluttered. “If they want to see me naked they could just ask.”

“Yeah but they’re freaky,” Rain stage whispered. “They wanna make it happen…”

Mountain blushed, no doubt thinking of all the ways he could make it happen more quickly. Luckily for his sake, music soon began to trickle through the mingling crowds, inviting them all to begin dancing. How the Ministry got the speaker system to work so well, Rain would never know. Maybe they had hundreds hidden all throughout the ballroom?

His train of thought was interrupted by Mountain returning to their earlier game of jest, bowing low and holding out his hand. “Lord Rain of the-bedroom-right-down-the-hallway-from-me.” Rain couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled up inside him from that. “May I please have this dance?”

He placed his hand in Mountain’s. “You may, Lord Mountain,” he smiled, thrilled when the earth ghoul bent down even further to kiss the back of his hand, stomach fluttering when he refused to break eye contact until his lips broke contact with Rain’s hand. “Come,” he announced, shifting his grip on Mountain’s hand to be able to hold it more normally. “Let us dance.”

————— + 1 —————

The tour bus is alive with energy. They’re only a few hours into their journey but all of them are buzzing with a mixture of nerves and excitement, even if all they’re doing is chatting amongst themselves quietly.

Swiss’ legs are currently thrown over Rain’s lap, the two of them gossiping quietly about their various hookups since being summoned. Rain is ninety percent sure Cumulus is listening in on their conversation but he doesn’t mind, she was the one who taught him how to do that thing with his tongue he was just explaining to Swiss.

“So…” Swiss leans in close and glances around furtively. The multi ghoul can never resist an opportunity for some dramatic flair. “When did you and Mountain hookup?”

“Me and Mount?” Rain asks, surprised. “We haven’t.”

Swiss sighs. “You don’t have to lie to me, Rainy, there’s nothing to be ashamed of. I was just telling you all the ways Dew made me cry for him, I think we’re past the point of shame, rainbow.”

“I’m telling you the truth! We haven’t…”

“Oh, but you want to.” It’s not a question, it doesn’t need to be one.

“Of course I do, have you fucking seen him?”

“Have you fucking seen his dick?” Swiss leans in close and uses his hands to measure an obscene length. There’s no way he’s telling the truth. “Fucking huge, Rainy, it’s insane.”

Rain whines. “Don’t tease me, Swiss, fuck.”

“Fine, fine,” Swiss relents. “But you’ve at least kissed right? I’ve seen the way you two look at each other, there’s no way that nothing’s happened between you.”

“I mean… kind of?” Rain replies. “We’ve kissed but not… y’know, on the lips or anything?”

Swiss’ eyes feel like they’re boring a hole into his soul. When he speaks, his voice is deadpan. “Are you fucking shitting me, Rainy.”

“No?”

Swiss looks like he’s about to scream.

Aether’s voice calls out from his game of cards with Dew. “Swiss, are you alright back there?”

“No, I’m dying, Aeth,” Swiss yells back at the same time as Rain says: “He’s fine, he’s just being a dramatic prick.”

“What’s all this about a dramatic prick?” Mountain grins as he takes a seat next to Rain.

“Mountain!” Swiss says, moving forward fast as lightning to grab the earth ghoul by the collar of his shirt. “Why the fuck haven’t you kissed Rain yet, it’s killing me, Mount. You hear me?” He shakes Mountain back and forth violently. “Kill. Ing. me.”

“I’ve kissed him,” Mountain says simply, miraculously unperturbed by the seemingly wild multi ghoul shaking him around.

Swiss pulls him even closer before releasing him. “Show me.”

Mountain sighs and looks over at Rain for permission but he’s smiling and his smile is always so infectious that Rain can’t help mimic it the second he sees it pulling at the earth ghoul’s lips.

“I’ve kissed him here,” Mountain starts, kissing the top of Rain’s head. “And here, and here,” he continues, brushing gentle kisses over Rain’s cheek and forehead in mimicry of those events that feel like they happened a lifetime ago. “Then I gave him butterfly kisses all over his face.” Rain scrunches up his eyes to combat the gentle tickling sensation that Mountain’s eyelashes are spreading across his face. “And last night I kissed his hand, like this.” This time it’s Rain who offers the hand out first, Mountain taking gladly and holding eye contact the entire time, exactly like the previous night. “But you’re right, Swiss. There is one spot I’ve missed.” He takes Rain’s face in his hands, cradling it gently in his hands. Mountain barely has to open his mouth to ask before Rain is nodding vigorously and surging forward to connect their lips together with an elated sigh.

It doesn’t take much for Mountain to deepen the kiss and pull Rain onto his lap and as soon as he does, Swiss is whooping and running up and down the length of the bus singing praises. Rain leans back to take a breather just in time to see Dew yank Swiss down to sit with him and Aether, telling him to get a hold on himself. Rain doesn’t miss the way Dew smirks when Aether presses a wad of cash into his hand, sighing in defeat.

“I think they were betting on us,” he whispers against Mountain’s lips, resting their foreheads together as they both take a breather.

“Oh, they definitely were,” the earth ghoul confirms. “I heard Cumulus and Dew negotiating terms weeks ago. Droplet may have just won that money from Aether but he’s going to have to give it all to Lus now because we kissed on the bus, not just before we left the Abbey.”

Rain laughs in disbelief. “You sly bastard,” he huffs out. “Did you wait to kiss me just so Dew wouldn’t win the bet?”

“Yep,” Mountain admits proudly. “What?” He asks when he sees Rain shaking his head and laughing. “You didn’t expect me to let Lus lose, did you?”

“Of course not, Mount,” Rain assures him. “I’m far too scared of her.”

Mountain hums in agreement. “She’s fucking terrifying, I do not need to be on her bad side. Forgive me?”

“Hmm,” Rain teases. “I’m not sure… Kiss me again and we’ll see?”

[arroganceisherfavoritecolor]

bello i have come with a quest shall you choose to accept it

i’m like super obsessed with the first part of girl next door i think you wrote it beautifully and i was wondering if we could get some like semi stalker donnie head cannons? like, reader knows donnie a little bit and he’s fucking INFATUATED with her? tysm!

also if i could be 🃏anon that would be nice:) love ya!

yes i accept papa and u can be whatever anon u want to be :333 request to ur heart's desires

warnings: nsfw obvi

-well first off, it all started during the middle of freshman year

-u had just moved to Middlesex from whatever state u were originally from

-ur family moved into the house next to Donnies

-he saw u moving all ur shit into your house and he was fucking hooked

-it had been raining all day, but the moment your car pulled into the driveway of the old house next to Donnies, the sun came out. It was almost as if god shined his light upon one of his beautiful angels just for Donnie LIKE UGHHH

-2 weeks later his mom invited ur family over for dinner

-you looked so gorgeous as you stood in his doorway next to your family, a nervous smile on your face as you held a tray of cookies

-his mom introduced him and his sisters and he just stood there staring at u like a total idiot (which u found endearing!)

-as your families ate dinner he finally got the balls to talk to you

-"So...uh...new here?"

-you guys made a bit of small talk but after that you didnt speak much

-it was only like 3 months before yall became real close but during these 3 months Donnie was infatuated.

-he saw u at school, looking down at your new schedule. he took it as the perfect time to talk to you and was like "need help looking for classes? i could show you around. Or your locker? You know where its at??" and u were like "oh no its ok!"

-although he felt discouraged a bit, he was adamant about somehow getting close to you

-he'd stare at u from across the schoolyard, watching u mingle with the other students

-u js looked so carefree and happy even tho u were new

-his friends automatically tease him about it ofc

-"Keep dreamin' Donnie, that piece of ass isn't into freaks."

-"Ay, ain't she your neighbor though? Get some!"

-Donnie didnt even gaf tbh he was too busy looking at u

-u just looked so perfect in the frumpy Middlesex High School uniform (that u pulled off amazingly)

-his obsession grew day by day

-he'd plan ways and scenarios to get u to talk to him or for him to go up to you

-like he really would maladaptive daydream about u guys

-he'd write your name and his name all over his notebook pages, even drew some little doodles of u too

-in english, he'd stare at your side profile illuminated by the sunlight of the window. his mind was too focused on your beauty rather than the lesson, just like his pencil. he sketched and scribbled a small drawing of you on the side of his paper, gorgeous as ever.

-"Y/n Darko, Donnie + Y/n." was all scribbled over the pages too

-he'd walk home and see u walking ahead of him, all alone

-he wanted to catch up to you and walk with you but he was just so nervous! what if he got a raging boner while he talked to you? or what if he just couldn't take it anymore and swept you off your feet and fucked you right there?

-As weeks passed, Donnies obsession only grew

-when he realized ur window was directly in his line of sight from his own window omg

-like i said in the girl next door blurb he js looks at u

-his favorite thing to do is watch you lay on your bed, reading a book or doing homework or whatever

-donnie really really tried not to be a pervert but u just made it so hard!!

-every time he'd see u at school his mind was filled with fantasy after fantasy

-the one he thought of most was the teacher randomly changing the seating chart and then placing u next to him. he'd caress and stroke your thighs til you were blushing and squirming. then, he'd slip his fingers up your skirt and into those stupid fucking panties you love flashing to him. he'd finger you right there in the middle of the lesson, not a care in the world for who sees

-donnie definitely knew he liekd u a lot but was in denial abt lowkey being a stalker

-cus why tf does he know ur favorite bands, favorite snacks, favorite pajamas to wear to bed??? coincidence i think NOT

-after about 3 months, the seating chart changes in English class and u guys get placed next to eachother as if the starts aligned OMGGG

-u guys end up talking and becoming great friends

-donnies even more obsessed with u now that hes ur friend yayaya

(sorry dis was kinda short and took long to finish im working on a fic rn 🤤 feel free to request anything tho guys)

[millenialfanfictionaddiction]

Being Seijoh’s Manager

Bookworm Manager

Seijoh x GN! Manager (they/them pronouns)

Warnings: swearing (probably, actually idk)

AN: this is an anon request.

Honestly I think this team is a perfect fit for a manager who loves to read!

They give a certain vibe of class and distinction 😌

And idk if you read romance, action, manga, smut, fantasy, non-fiction, etc

Readers have a certain amount of grace to me

And of course, our precious Yn is the number #1 most graceful 💅

You attend Seijoh and you just happen to be a first year

You never really bothered anyone, never really stood out but you had friends and were a typical student

Perks of being a wallflower 😏

Prepare for book puns and I won’t apologize!

Anyways, you were a typical student who just happened to have class with our favorite aloof wing spiker, Kunimi

Kunimi actually really enjoyed you because you were nice, sweet and pleasant

You never caused drama and while you did have you noise in a book a lot, he’d rather have that than someone gushing over his Senpai 🙄

I totally feel like Kunimi would like reading too so he would probably ask you about your reads, which you happily share

You probably were constantly tired, like him, only you were tired because you stayed up all night reading 😅

During a normal practice, Mattsun and Makki were again teasing Oikawa for being the reason they couldn’t have nice things

Aka a manager

“I can’t help that everyone likes me!” Oikawa whines

“Shut up Shittykawa nobody likes you!” Iwaizumi shouts

Suddenly Kunimi looks over and you appear in the doorway of the gym, eyes locked in a book and holding his math book

He looks at you questionably, which prompts Kindaichi, Yahaba, Watari and Kyotani to do the same thing

He runs past his arguing seniors towards you and greets you kindly

“Hello Yn, did you bring this for me?” He asks as you snap from you book, a wide, adorable smile greeting him

“Yes! I was headed out and I noticed you forgot it so I figured I’d swing by!”

By now, the seniors have noticed you and annoyingkawa is on the move 🙄

“Well hello there and who might you be?” He says but you say nothing

Oikawa clears his throat and tries again, “hello there cutie-chan!”

Again, nothing

Kunimi is holding it together by a thread, Makki and Mattsun are too stunned to speak and Iwaizumi is hella impressed!

“You know it’s rude to ignore you seniors!” Oikawa growled

You snap from your book, eyes locking with his, “oh I’m sorry, this is just a really interesting part, nothing against you personally but it’s kind of important so I’ll be on my way.”

Makki and Mattsun BUST out laughing

Kindaichi, Yahaba, and Watari just stare

Kyotani and Iwa are in awe of your ability to ignore THE Oikawa

“I’ll see you in class tomorrow Akira,” you say, waving at him and walking away

Immediately, Iwa runs up to Kunimi and asks, “does Yn need a club??”

And that, my dear, is how you became the Seijoh’s new manager 🥰

Now at first, you weren’t really super excited about volleyball

I mean, you originally said yes because you needed a club and well, Kunimi was your friend

However you found one perk to the sport

In the form of reading Sports Mangas 😍

Surprisingly it was an excellent way to learn the sport as well as combine it with your love of reading

Even if Manga wasn’t your first choice, you definitely found it easier to learn thought reading gs alternative means

Mainly loserkawa 🙄 who took it upon himself to try and educate you on the sport

It’s literally Lord of the Flies up in here!

“Shittykawa leave Yn alone!!” Iwa shouts as you stand next to Kunimi and Kindaichi

“I’m teaching Yn-Chan the fine art of serving!” Oikawa shouted back

“Umm thanks Oikawa but I think I got it. I read a manga last night and I got the basics down,” you says as Oikawa puts up his hand

“Why read Yn-Chan when you can learn from the greatest?!” He says, tossing up the balls

And slamming it right into the net

You 👉🏻😐

Kunimi and Kindaichi 👉🏻🙄

Makki and Mattsun 👉🏻🤣🤣

Iwaizumi 👉🏻🧑🏻‍🦱🤛🏻

Oikawa 👉🏻 💀

Thankfully your knowledge of volleyball, from reading, you were able to help the boys come up with new skills and tactics to win!

Unfortunately, the skills and tactics didn’t match up against Karasuno, who apparently had developed their own skills

The third years were broken, the second years so upset and the first years disappointed

You couldn’t help but feel awful, like you failed them

On the bus ride home, everyone was quiet as you sat

You wanted to cheer them up but you didn’t know how

Then it came to you, you pulled out your book from your bag

Let’s just say it was one of your new favorites and you began to read out loud to the bus

The boys slowly looked up, listening to your soothing voice as you recited lines perfectly

The entire bus seemed to calm down, the tension disappearing as you continued to read

Once back at school, you stopped reading and prepared to get off the bus

“Wait Yn what happens next?” Kindaichi asks as Kunimi nods

“Come on YN, you can’t really just leave us hanging with that!” Yahaba groaned

“Anyone can see the hero is going to end up victorious as always!” Oikawa chimes in as Iwa smacks him in the back of the head

“Shittykawa shit up!” Iwa said as Mattsun and Makki helped you unload the gear

“You’ll finish reading the story right Yn?” Makki asks as you smile

Of course you will 🥰

[oh-no-my-hand-slipped]

Under The Apple Tree

An Original Work of Sneezy Smut

****************************************

Subject(s): Original Characters

Length: 3,268 words

Genre: Inducing, Anal

Rating: Mature

Warning(s): Tasteful Descriptions of Sex

*************************************

Septimus was never notified of a new employee taking residence in the Rutherford household. Not that he ever was – he didn’t care too much who the master hired as long as there was still money left over to buy his new editions of textbooks and academic journals.

However, when the tutor noticed the new cook, he certainly caught his attention. Firstly, he was enormous – over two hundred centimeters easily, and a girth to match. How he was able to move around the kitchen, Septimus couldn’t imagine – though he tried to quite often. Sliding past the fireplace, sucking in his gut to get onto the other side of the stove, ducking beneath pots and pans…

The cook was also quite muscular, unlike the short, stout cook that came before him. He lifted kegs over his head with ease, carried countless bottles and jugs up and down the lane, and always kept the kitchen full to the brim. What was he before being a cook that gave him such a frame, such strength? Septimus had many hypotheses. Perhaps he was a sailor, hoisting sails and moving barrels of goods to land. Or a farmer, toiling in the fields, sweat running down his brow. Or some sort of sportsman, training his body to its very limits, awaiting the cheers of the crowd. Septimus often found himself lost in these thoughts, only coming back to reality when it was time for the childrens’ Latin lesson.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t the only one interested in the cook. One of the maids dreamily related to another that his name was Marcus.

“Isn’t that just a perfect name?” she sighed. “If I bear a child, I may name him Marcus!”

“Yes, yes,” the other had said, not paying attention. “Just perfect.”

“And if it’s a girl…well, Marcusina has a nice ring to it!”

“That’s nice, Mary.”

Septimus rolled his eyes. Such a silly thing, young love. His mind was far too occupied to let himself be deluded with such trifles. No, his interest in Marcus was purely curiosity, purely academic.

It wasn’t until a month into Marcus’s employment that they formally met – being on opposite sides of the household, they rarely crossed paths. But, with a list of items from the market for an upcoming banquet in hand, Septimus finally stepped into the hot kitchen.

Marcus was leaning over the stove, hard at work on some recipe or another. His apron was partly off, and was hanging loosely around his large waist. Suddenly, a wave of nervousness came over Septimus. The cook was even bigger up close than he had imagined. His hands were big enough to completely hide the handles of the pots he was working over. Marcus’ shoulders, hunched in concentration, were wider than at least four of Septimus.

But still, the scholar cleared his throat, trying to use his most authoritative tone.

“Marcus, is it?”

Marcus startled upright, knocking into a few pans hanging over his head with a clatter. Rubbing his head, he turned to face Septimus. His shock quickly turned into warm familiarity.

“Ah, yes. That’s right,” Marcus rumbled, glancing at the paper Septimus had in his hand. “Has Master Rutherford asked something of me?”

Septimus swallowed. It was harder now that Marcus was looking at him. “Er, quite. Some things to prepare before the banquet.”

He held out the list, and Marcus took it from him. Even as their hands met, Septimus realized just how large Marcus’s hands were – large and worn with work. And warm, warmer than the powdery, cold hands of the Rutherfords. Small, white scars covered his palms. From what, Septimus couldn’t tell.

Marcus read over the list, eyebrows furrowing with concentration.

“I must go to the market for that,” he murmured, rubbing his chin. “And I need a large dish. Have I…?”

Marcus began to search around the kitchen, pushing aside racks of hanging herbs, towels, and utensils. Septimus, suddenly obsolete, stood in silence among the cupboards. He could feel his face burning, and he grit his teeth. The scholar wasn’t used to being swept aside in such a manner, and he wasn’t sure he enjoyed it. The interaction had been cut much too short for his liking, and on such callous terms! Marcus never asked for any direction, nor any clarification. He was sure to miss something, and then the banquet would be ruined! The hubris! The gall!

“Pardon-” came a rumble, and suddenly, Septimus’s stomach fluttered as he felt Marcus’s warm hands cup around his underarms.

Marcus hoisted the scholar off the ground, as if he was lifting another one of the master’s wine kegs. Septimus, for a moment, felt as if he weighed nothing at all – a feather in the warm, summer wind. His heart leapt in his chest, against the ribs that Marcus was holding so tightly.

Finally, Septimus was placed on a nearby counter. Though Marcus was gentle, the force of the scholar sent a forgotten pile of baking flour swirling around the pair. However, Septimus hardly noticed the white powder settling on his dark clothes.

Marcus, on the other hand, was searching the drawers that had been behind Septimus, only realizing his mistake when he looked up to see a flustered, flour-covered scholar sitting stiffly on his countertop.

“Ah! I-I beg your-”

He reached towards Septimus to help him down, but the scholar jerked away, his red face seething beneath the white layer of flour.

“In all my years of service, I have never-!” he began, only to be cut off by a quiver in his slender nostrils.

His eyelids fluttered as he reached for his handkerchief, which was also speckled white.

“How vehery…dare-! HaHAH-!”

With one final trembling hitch, Septimus pitched forward, sending more flour into the air with the force of his sneezes.

“hah’KSH’HIIIEW! EK’SHIIEW! EKSH’IIIIIIIIEW!”

With his nose deep in his flour-filled handkerchief, Septimus couldn’t stop sneezing long enough to scold Marcus. Instead, the thoroughly powdered scholar could only lift an accusing finger or gasp out half of an empty insult in between fits. Marcus could only stare at Septimus, his lips parted and a large pan held limp beside him.

Finally, Septimus gave up on his retribution, and retreated from the kitchen, covered head to toe in the offending baking product. He turned back to Marcus before leaving, the lower face of his face covered in his handkerchief. Only his irritated, furious eyes could be seen.

“You bark mby words,” he snuffled, “I’ll seh-see to it you’re neh-! GIHIH-! IKSH’HIIIIEW!”

With that final remark, Septimus slammed the door behind him, leaving a raging white trail behind him – much to the already overworked maids’ dismay. Not that they didn’t find a sort of cruel joy hearing him sneeze and sniffle and groan from his quarters all evening.

Marcus, meanwhile, didn’t attend to his duties for most of the afternoon. Instead, he stood in front of an unlit stove, only moving to wipe the sweat off of his forehead or to hurriedly adjust the front of his apron. The cook didn’t dare turn around until he was sure he could keep himself under control. The last thing he needed was his new employer to see him like this. But whenever he thought about that gaunt scholar trying to keep his composure and yet failing, completely at the mercy of that slender nose that wasn’t used to the filth of work, eyes watering and fluttering and rolling…

Needless to say, Marcus had to take some time to himself in the produce larder before getting back to work again.

*************************************

That wasn’t the end of the injustices Septimus faced.

That following morning, no sooner had he gotten the last of the white out of his uniform did the master give him most disgraceful orders. The gardener, in her age, had fallen ill, and the trees in the orchard had to be pruned before the banquet’s guests arrived tomorrow. Septimus’s father was, after all, a botanist for the Rutherfords, and neither the maids nor the errand boys could possibly be trusted with his prized apple trees. And the children, as they were on a day trip with their mother, wouldn’t require their lessons.

As outraged as Septimus at being treated as a common laborer, the more he mulled it over in his mind, the more content he was with the prospect. News travels fast in the Rutherford household, and everyone had been staring and snickering at him all morning. The last place he wanted to be was among the gossiping staff. Or, more importantly, that blasted, blasted cook.

Yes, some fresh air away from the house would do him good.

Septimus took off his coat, rolled up his sleeves into a neat fold, and put the shears under his arm – though he did make sure to brandish them as he walked by a group of giggling maids, who quickly returned to their dusting and polishing.

The day was clear, and the new spring sun shone on Septimus’s pale cheeks. It wasn’t often that he was needed outside the home, and he wasn’t too keen on traveling when a good book about it did just as well. However, Septimus could already feel his sour mood improving as he began climbing the gardener’s wooden ladder to prune the first tree.

He was scraping at the bark, checking for dead branches, when the sweet fragrance of apple blooms wafted into his nose. Septimus lifted his head, indulging himself by sniffing the air –

Only for his long nose to become buried in a burst of pink and white blooms.

Septimus stared cross-eyed at his compromised nose, as well as the yellow, powdery centers of each flower. With already trembling nostrils, he suddenly remembered why he didn’t spend much time outdoors. Septimus breathed through his mouth, trying not to stir the delicate flowers – or his sensitive sinuses. If he could lower his head past the blooms without knocking any pollen off of them, he would be in the clear. But one stray sniff…

Septimus held his breath as he leaned backward, holding his breath –

“Ack!”

Septimus cried out as his weight made the ladder lean backwards, causing him to lose his balance and to drop the shears. To save himself from falling, he jerked forward, bringing the ladder back against the trunk with a loud smack. The entire tree shook, bringing a shower of leaves and flowers down onto Septimus. A yellow cloud soon followed, pollen covering anything it touched.

The scholar scrambled for his handkerchief, but it was much too late. His eyes had already begun to water, and his once-slim nostrils were flaring with every ragged breath Septimus took.

“N-No, no, I…I musn’t…gihih-! Hihih-!”

Septimus laid a knuckle beneath his nose, one itchy eye squeezed shut. The ladder wobbled.

“W-Where’s…where’s by hanker- handkerchihiiih-! Hiiih-!”

He patted his pockets with his other hand, to no avail. His cheeks puffed as he tried to keep his nose at bay, just for a moment, until he was safe on the ground again. His reddened nose protested, and his nostrils flared ever wider.

“Hihih-! Hihihih-! HIHIH-!”

Septimus leaned back, making the ladder sway. He reached for a branch to grab onto, but his watery vision caused him to miss it entirely. His chest heaved one final hitch before -

“GKSHH’HIIIIIIIEW!”

The sneeze sent Septimus tumbling over the ladder. He blindly reached out to break his fall, managing to grab onto one of the trunks before landing in the groove of the forked tree. He gasped for air, all the wind being knocked out of him upon painful impact. Unfortunately, he was only just big enough to fit between the trunks of the tree. Even a quick inhale brought his ribs against the rough bark of the tree.

Once he had caught his breath, Septimus attempted to squirm free, first using his hands to leverage himself, then his feet. Either way, though, the tree was much too tall, and he was stuck far too snugly between the trunks to slide out. Using a branch to lift himself out was also out of the question – nothing had sprouted that low on the tree.

What was worse, now that the shock had passed, Septimus’s nose had taken the calmness as an invitation.

“Please…hehlp-! KSH’IIIIEW! IH’KSHOOO!”

Every sneeze brought a dull, throbbing pain to his sides, and his cries for help grew more desperate.

“G-God, sobeone! I can’d…EHHK’SH’HIIIEW!”

Finally, Septimus hang helpless between the trunks, exhausted. He prayed for someone, anyone.

One of those large errand boys, he thought. Or Melanie. She does heavy work. Oh, God, I beg of you, deliver me from this misery…

“Sir? Sir!”

A booming voice called from beside the manor. Septimus lifted his heavy head, his hope soon being replaced with exasperation.

Godamnit.

Of all the inhabitants of the manor, it was Marcus, who had tossed the barrels he was carrying aside and was now lumbering down the hill with surprising speed. His apron flapped in the wind as he ran through the orchard and came to a sliding halt in front of the scholar.

“Sakes alive, don’t tell me you’ve fallen?” Marcus asked.

Septimus gave a weak, wry smile. “Oh, nod ad all. The physician recobbends I do this every morning. Good for the circulation, you dow.”

Marcus ignored Septimus’s sarcasm, walking behind the tree to get a better look at their predicament.

“Like a cork in a keg!” Marcus exclaimed, leaning over Septimus. “But a good twist ought to-”

Marcus put his hands on Septimus’ lower back.

“Hah~!”

Septimus clasped his hand over his mouth. Marcus quickly withdrew.

“Ah, I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Septimus cleared his throat. His face felt like it was turning maroon.

“N-Ndo. Just, er, startled be, is all,” he stammered.

“Don’t you worry. This won’t be long.”

Marcus put one hand on Septimus’s left shoulder and another on his lower back. Septimus bit his lip, managing to stay silent. The cook tried to press both in the opposite direction to twist Septimus’s body out from between the trunks, but he was too tightly trapped.

“You’re stiff as a board,” Marcus said, leaning further over Septimus. “You’ve got to-”

“Oh, dear, p-pardon meh-! HIH-!”

Septimus’s reddened nostrils flared again. Marcus’s eyes widened.

“Are…are you-?”

“HIHKSH’HIIIIEW!”

Septimus pitched forward, jerking back into a startled Marcus. He groaned, sniffling thickly.

“Mby apologies…th-this god-forsaken pollen…I’b seeb to be alleheh-! HKSH’IIIEW!”

Septimus’s back end was now firmly planted onto Marcus’s crotch, shuddering with every sneeze. The excitement the cook already felt before was overwhelming, but now, he couldn’t help it anymore. He stumbled back from the tree, grabbing the end of his apron, trying to adjust it –

“Barcus…?”

Septimus had stopped sneezing now, and was gazing back at the embarrassed cook. Marcus rushed out from behind the tree, trying to splutter out a reply.

“I - or, er, you’re - I’ll fetch the - the gardener, and she’ll…”

Septimus looked up at Marcus with a dazed look.

“Barcus…please…don’d leave…”

The sharp tone that Marcus was used to from the scholar was gone.

“I-I’ll return as quickly as I am able, I just can’t -”

“Ndo…”

Septimus let out a shuddering sigh.

“Please…do keep going. It feld…so…”

Marcus swallowed. “I…I truly beg your pardon, I mustn’t’ve…”

Septimus sniffled thickly.

“Please…you bust…I can’d let anyone see be in this state…”

Between Septimus’s quiet pleadings, his vulnerable posture, and his red, quivering nose…

Marcus moved behind the tree again, craning his neck to see if anyone was in the orchard. Once he saw there was no one, he positioned himself over Septimus again, reaching his arms around the scholar.

“Oh god, please,” Septimus gasped.

Marcus took one finger and began to trace Septimus’s nostrils. The other hand grabbed the scholar’s waist. Septimus moaned, his sensitive nostrils already flaring and his waist bucking from the cook’s touch.

“Nngh~!”

“Shh, it’s alright,” Marcus whispered, tugging on Septimus’s belt. “May I-?”

The scholar nodded fervently. Marcus set to work unclasping Septimus’s belt, then his work pants, then his drawers. All of this was met with various pleasured noises from the front of the tree. The cook then got himself ready, though he had the good sense not to completely disrobe himself in case someone walked by. His apron, rather than being taken off, was simply swished aside like a lover’s curtain. Finally, Marcus slowly, gently inserted himself, leaning onto the tree’s trunk for support.

“Not so-! Haah~!”

“Are y-you…mmph…shall I…?”

“Yes, God, yes. But, don’d go too quickly…I mbay…then someone mighd hear…huuh~!”

Marcus bit his lip, slowing his rhythm. Meanwhile, he began tracing Septimus’s nostrils again, feeling them quiver between his fingers.

“Huh~! Y-You’re…going to bake mbe…hiiih-!”

Septimus began to hitch, each one widening him from within. Marcus tried to keep both urges of the scholar under control, but with his own pleasure mounting higher and higher, that was becoming more and more difficult. And as quiet as they both tried to be, occasionally, their pleasure all but overwhelmed them, and they became more fervent in said pleasure.

“Just…just a little-! Hungh~!”

“I’b really…really-! Hih-! Going to - HAAH~!”

Marcus now had one hand on each trunk of the tree, his eyes closed in concentration as he went deeper and deeper into Septimus. Septimus, on the other hand, unabashedly hitched and moaned as both his nose and his sex threatened to overtake him at any moment. Finally, his stammered warnings and pleas grew more desperate, and Marcus knew he couldn’t stave the scholar or himself off any longer.

He reached up, plucking a few blossoms from a branch above, and leaning over Septimus one last time, but the flowers under the scholar’s trembling nose. The effect was immediate.

“Oh, G-God, I…hihih-! HIIIH-!”

Marcus leaned back, putting both hands on Septimus’s waist, and, with his last ounce of self-control, gave one final, deep thrust.

“HK’SHSSSH’HIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEW! Hah~! HAAH~!”

Marcus’s back arched as Septimus closed in around him. All his inhibitions left him as a wave of pleasure crashed over his body.

“GMPH~! GAHAAH~!”

The cook shuddered, leaning over a still heaving Septimus, and they both rode out their passion as one, completely giving in to what they had been trying to hide for so long.

After a long moment, Marcus withdrew, breathing hard. Septimus hung limply between the trunks, just as the cook had found him. Having left quite a mess behind the tree, Marcus began to wipe Septimus down with a corner of his apron. The scholar twitched, moaning softly.

Such a sensitive soul, Marcus thought, getting the lower half of the scholar dressed, and then himself.

Just as he had tied the back of his apron again, a yell came from the top of the hill. It was one of the errand boys, who had just gotten back from the market.

“Y’alright? Take a tumble, did he?”

Marcus, with one hand below the scholar’s chest and another at his waist, was finally able to lift Septimus out from between the tree with a hard tug. The scholar hardly made a sound.

“Aye,” Marcus said, holding Septimus close to his chest. “He’s had a bit of an accident. Go tell Master Rutherford, would you?”

The errand boy was off like a shot – likely more excited to tell the other members of staff than Mr. Rutherford.

Marcus began to carry a dazed Septimus up the hill.

“This is the state you’d rather be seen in?” Marcus puffed.

Septimus lowered his gaze and lifted his eyebrows. “Would you have rather walked into the manor in the state you were in?”

Marcus face darkened, and he squeezed the soft part of the scholar’s side. Septimus gasped, still shuddering at the slightest touch.

The cook chuckled, taking a rag from his pocket and wiping the scholar’s still trembling nose.