#i've been watching a lets play of someone who has never played T&T before

[strawberrisoulmate]

oough..... thoughts of mr godot............

diego armando...................

[shellshocklove]

snapshot | old man!logan

pairing/AU: old man!logan howlett x female!reader

summary: short on money for rent, your joke about starting an only fans account, to earn some extra cash, goes over logan's head. but when an accident with charles puts your life in danger, logan takes you up on your offer.

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so mdni! friends with benefits vibes who are also idiots in love, implied age gap, swearing, mentions and drinking of alcohol, use of pet names, logan's a bit of a grumpy dick, sex work, logan can't use a phone, logan can carry reader but he's also extremely strong, smut, praise kink, a little size kink (basically logan has a big dick), dom!logan, logan's got a dirty mouth, a little dacryphilia, sloppy blow job, facial, cum play, no use of y/n

a/n: a little disclaimer. i actually have no idea how OF work i only read the wikipedia page, so i've taken some liberties with it to fit it with the plot lol. the idea for the reader as charles' caretaker is inspired by @joelsgoldrush's fic never is a promise <- incredible fic that everyone should read! and also a big thank you to @guiltyasdave for all the encouragement on this fic!! <333 happy reading! <3

main masterlist / ao3

The coffee tasted sour on his tongue as he waited, engine running on empty, but the whiskey kept his throat warm. Behind the apartment complex the sun crawled up the horizon and split the the dark asphalt in pieces with streaks of blinding sunlight. The street lights shut off just as you walked out, the rickety door slamming shut behind you.

Watching you round the front of the limousine Logan pulled his seat forward, his rough hand grabbing the wheel as his left foot tapped impatiently on the footrest. A tickle in his throat had him greet you with a cough, and he brought his fist to his mouth.

"Morning to you too," you said, voice laced with sarcasm.

"Don't fuckin' slam the door like that– I've told you a thousand times," Logan grunted back and put the car in drive.

This was routine at this point. He picked you up in the morning after driving all night, and dropped you off again in the evening before he started his shift. Employing you took a large wad of cash out of his pocket, but at least he didn't have to worry about Charles being taken care of. You weren't a registered nurse or anything, not someone who'd had all the right references and education, but you needed money and didn't ask questions, and that had been perfect for Logan. He'd hired you about a year ago, and everything after had been routine.

When you didn't say anything back, only shifted your weight in the seat and leaned your head against the window, it pulled at something inside Logan. He couldn't deny you were a beautiful woman. He liked the way your nose curved, how soft your skin felt against his cheek every time you'd given him a reluctant hug, and he liked the way you smelled. It was primal, and in another life Logan would've had you in his bed already, but in this life, Logan was done with beautiful women.

Still early enough for the roads to be empty, Logan pushed the speed limit as he waited for you to speak – to finally say something trivial like you did every morning – some song you'd just discovered, or the plot twist in the reality program you watched every night, or how they were out of your favorite yogurt at the grocery store. He'd reply with a grunt, or with nothing at all, just letting you talk.

Out of the corner of his eye, Logan noticed how you picked at the skin around your nails, and when the sharp metallic smell of blood filled his nostrils, he heaved a heavy sigh.

"What's wrong with you?" he grumbled. A lilt of annoyance coated the words, and Logan hated how your silence had affected him. His harsh tone didn't seem to bother you, and the realization cut like a knife; biting down, Logan's jaw clenched.

"It's nothing."

Logan had to hold back the scoff he wanted to let out, "Clearly it's somethin', kid."

Finally, a reaction out of you. Pushing yourself to sit up straight, you let out a sigh as you turned your head to look at him. "My landlord raised my rent again… I'm thinking about how I'm gonna pay rent this month. I'm gonna be a few hundred bucks short," you told him.

Oh.

Gripping the wheel a little tighter, Logan couldn't help himself from asking, "You tellin' me you're quittin'?"

He couldn't blame you, he thought he paid you a fair wage, but it seemed that everything had gotten more and more expensive lately. The rides had been few and far between and the tank of gas didn't take him as far anymore. The weekends kept him afloat, along with bachelor and bachelorette parties, prom nights, and knuckleheaded business men too fancy to drive a regular cab to the airport. Had it not been for Charles' medication he'd give you a raise. Logan wasn't stupid, he knew he couldn't do this without you.

"No," you shook your head, "I wouldn't do that to Charles."

But you'd do it to me, Logan thought and let the words unsaid hang in the air between you as he pulled onto the dirt road leading to the smelting plant.

"I'll figure something out," you said, before a smirk teased over your face, that smile breaking forth the old you hidden behind this morning's melancholia. "Maybe I should start an Only Fans or something," you laughed.

"What's that?" Logan grunted, too focused on keeping his foot soft on the brake and avoiding the potholes to hear your joking lilt.

"Only Fans?" you questioned, one eyebrow raised in surprise before your eyes softened at the corners. "It's a social media platform for porn," you explained, "It's subscription based so you make an account and people pay a monthly subscription to see your content."

Porn?

Slowing down to a stop outside the gate, Logan put the limousine in park, the engine still humming.

"And how's that gonna help you pay rent?" Logan wondered, turning slightly in his seat to finally get a good look at you.

You were quiet for a second, eyes searching his face before the sound of a distant train had you looking away, almost bashful. "It's ridiculous," you muttered, "I don't have anyone to do it with anyway."

Before Logan could cough up an answer your hand found the passenger door, and a gust of sharp desert air seeped in. "I'll figure out the rent somehow… Sleep well, Logan," you told him, a wistful smile coating your features, before you climbed out the limousine and opened the gate. His eyes stayed glued to you as he drove past you, flicking to watch you close the gate after him in the rearview mirror. When you headed for the tank without your usual wave, a frown pulled at his face.

Stepping out of the limousine, Logan watched you leave, watched the way your hips swayed with new interest. Reaching into the inner pocket of his suit jacket, he found his flask – desperate to quench this fresh thirst with the last sip of burning alcohol, smoothing his dry throat. 

The cold coffee left a brown splatter as he discarded it; the coffee seeped into the sand. Inside the steeled walls he now called 'home' reeked of dust, like stepping into an antique shop, and Logan couldn't hold back his cough. Walking deeper into the plant with heavy steps, the old trinkets and equipment told a story of time passed.

So much time had passed.

Hanging his suit jacket over the back of one of the chairs Logan started working the small buttons on his shirt, shrugging it off before tossing it gently over the ironing board. Food would have to wait, he already knew the fridge wasn't stocked. Instead, he found the bottle of whiskey he'd left on the table, grabbing it by the neck before he took a large swig.

The whiskey helped, at least that's what he told himself, but his senses never dulled enough and the weight never got any easier. Sitting down heavy on the bed, Logan drank long and hard, but he couldn't keep his thoughts from trailing to you and what you’d muttered. I don't have anyone to do it with anyway.

What was it you'd called it? Just Fans? No, that wasn't right… Only Fans.

Logan remembered the first tape he ever saw; it had been the 70s, a summer in California, at some party he'd been forced to by a beautiful woman. The tape had been projected onto a wall in the living room, like background noise no one paid attention to. It had been lewd and obnoxious, but no one had seemed to mind, high as kites and drunk as skunks. Soon, Logan hadn't minded either, whisking away the woman to make his own private porn in one of the bedrooms.

Behind the woven fabric of his slacks, his cock twitched at the thought, but it wasn't the porn playing at the party, or the memory of the woman he'd fucked that filled his mind, it was you. 

It was innocent at first; the way your front teeth nibbled on your bottom lip as you pondered your next move in a game of chess opposite Charles, how your eyes sparkled under the low streetlights as he drove you home at the end of the day, and how your perfume had filled the limousine and clung to his skin that one time you'd left your jacket in the passenger seat. His hand came down to rub over the growing bulge in his pants, soothing the growing ache with a hard press, pulling a rumbling moan from his chest. 

Soon the innocent memories of you turned to filth. Logan's mind filled with images of you underneath him, his cock buried balls deep in your wet cunt as you withered for him. Then, as quickly as the first image had come, another took its place: of you on your knees with your mouth stuffed with his cock, gagging around him and swallowing him down like a good girl.

With each rubbing press to his cock, Logan couldn't shake the rolling images of you. It was wrong, never had he thought about you like that, never had he wanted to think of you like that, but once he'd started, he couldn't stop.

Working his fingers, it was almost instinctual as they moved to undo the button of his pants. His hand dug into his front, large hand palming himself with hard presses, as his cock hardened. Trailing his fingers upwards, stopping right above the elastic band of his underwear, his hand so close to wrapping around himself, a hint of shame pulled him out of the gutter.

He shouldn’t think about you like that.

Pulling away, like he'd burnt his hand, Logan let out a deep grumbling sigh. Leaning back on both hands, he let his head fall back as he squeezed his eyes shut. In his pants his cock throbbed with need. It had been a long time since he'd had a woman, so long since he'd felt the velvet walls of a tight cunt wrapped around him, too long since he'd felt like he wasn't a monster, if only for a few blissful seconds.

Bringing the neck of the whiskey bottle to his mouth, Logan drowned his need in  temporary numbness, focusing instead on how the warmth filled his chest and dulled every ache. Falling back with a heavy bounce, he nursed the bottle in the crook of his thick arm, letting his eyes fall shut.

Logan couldn't remember the last time he wasn't tired, couldn't remember when his body didn't ache with every move. His veins bled through with rust and alcohol, and he hoped the latter made the corrosion run smoother.

His eyes fluttered shut, and the same flashing images filled the darkness. Years of fighting, years of killing, all the people he'd lost. It was the same show every night, and every night it tore a piece of him away, of his joy.

The bottom of the whiskey bottle clanked sharply as it hit the floor and a cough got stuck in his throat. It ripped and jerked in his chest, and he keeled over himself, fighting against it. When his head hit the pillow again, his eyes didn't fall shut, they trailed the walls, found the holes of blinding daylight seeping in through the holes in the corrugated metal sheets, and his thoughts found you again.

Curiosity got the best of him, and a hand dug into the back pocket of his pants for his phone. The small icons and text blended together as the screen lit up his face. When Logan held the phone a little further away the screen only got blurrier. With an exasperated sigh, he sat up, his body protesting as he grabbed his suit jacket off the dining chair, digging into the inner pocket for his new glasses.

Slumping down in the chair, his glasses resting at the tip of his nose, he tapped at his phone. He rarely used the thing outside of work, but suddenly he tapped at something that made it speak to him.

"I'm sorry I didn't quite get that," his phone said.

"Hello?" Logan spoke back.

Again his phone lit up and the voice answered. "Hello, what can I help you with?"

"What is Only Fans?"

……..

Fitting a brittle leaf between your thumb and pointer finger, you studied Charles' plants. The table always looked a mess after he'd tended to them, dirt spilled onto the table and tools thrown haphazardly about. Cupping your hand, you brushed the dirt into your hand, and discarded it into a pot you thought needed it.

Flicking your wrist, you looked at the time again. It was getting late. Usually by this time, Logan would have you halfway home already. Resorting to cleaning up the tools, you decided to give him half an hour before you'd start looking for him. He never slept in, although you could clearly see he needed it. 

Logan wasn't a man to show weakness, not to anybody, rather, he showed his teeth, barking and fighting against you or anyone who dared speak to him. It had intimidated you at first, and you'd held your tongue, afraid he'd bite your head off, but in time you'd come to realize that his gruff demeanor was just that, a façade. 

Charles on the other hand, senile and more and more forgetful, was the opposite of his son. On good days he beat you at chess while he told you stories about 'the good ol' days'. His imagination was vast, telling stories about the X-Men like he knew them, like he'd been a part of them, and especially by nightfall his stories would become even wilder. He'd tell you about his 'abilities', how he could read minds. He'd tell stories about Logan too, tragic ones, that if it hadn't been for the stack of comics you'd found, you would've almost said they were true.

Finding the chair by Charles' bed, you watched him deep in sleep. A heaviness could be felt in your chest as you thought about how his good and lucid days had seemed to get fewer and fewer lately. You found yourself having the same conversations with him, and once again today, he didn't want to get out of bed, telling you his head hurt. 

You wished you knew more of his condition, but Logan wouldn't tell you anything other than that Charles suffered from seizures, and if he didn't get his medication the consequences would be great. The way Logan had said it to you, his voice sharp and strict, it sounded serious, and in the year you'd taken care of Charles, you'd been diligent with his medication. Not once had you experienced a seizure with him.

Reaching over him, your palm found Charles' cheek. Stroking your hand lightly over his face, you felt the prickling stubble against your skin. His comment earlier about his head, had you worried. Logan usually supplied you with Charles' medication – from where you didn't know – there hadn't been any doctor's visits or health checks from what you could recall.

Maybe Logan didn't have insurance? It was your only explanation, a reason for why he'd found a more creative way of caring for his father. 

In a way you respected it, hacked an unknowing crack in Logan’s harsh façade– he cared. Only respect didn’t keep you from wanting Logan to tell you more, to open up, but wringing out more than a grunt from him was difficult. Instead, you made sure to let him know when you were running low on the pills and injections, and usually by the next day he'd hand over a new bottle. 

Stroking over Charles’ cheek, another chill of nervousness ran up your back where a worry tugged at your neck. 

Yesterday, after a week had passed since you'd asked Logan for more medication. He’d told you not to worry, that he’d have the pills soon, but running so low you'd had to resort to rationing Charles' doses.

Pulling back your hand, your eyes found your watch again, but before you could register the time, Charles stirred beside you. Then, an excruciating blinding pain permeated through your body. It rang in your ears and had your body shaking in agony, but at the same time you couldn't move. You wanted to scream, let out the pain that froze you to the chair, but no noise came out. When your vision started to go foggy, you thought that this must be what dying was like, but never would you have thought dying would feel this painful.

Through the ringing in your ears, a heavy creak of the tank door could be heard– or was it a trick your brain played on you in your last moments? Like the broad figure moving closer, slowly, too slowly, like it walked through water. You couldn't see who it was, but you didn't have too. Surely, your brain showing you Logan in your last moments, must've been a trick. The figure hovered over Charles, maybe it feasted on him first, reaped his soul as an appetizer before it would have you.

And just as quickly as the pain had taken you, the pain stopped.

Heaving for breath, your body fell forward, it was like the air couldn't fill your lungs quick enough. Two large palms cupped your cheek, tilting your head to Logan's frowning face. If you didn't know better you thought he looked scared.

"You okay?" he barked, your head rolling in his hands, "Hey! Bub, look at me."

You found the strength to nod your head, but Logan seemed far from convinced. He swiped his thumb over your cupid's bow, a flash of red coating his thumb and his face turned to stone, his frown so deep it looked chiseled.

Then he moved with an uncharacteristic haste, hiking you up in his arms and carrying you out of the tank. Closing your eyes, you tried to put your brain back together the way it used to be, but everything felt scrambled. When your back hit the soft mattress of a bed, you finally opened them.

Over you, Logan's large form hovered. He said something to you, but you only registered his mouth moving, your eyes glued to his pink soft lips, and your vision cleared completely.

"Drink this," he ordered, shoving a glass of water in your hands, and just like that your hearing had snapped back. "'m gonna go check on Charles– don't fucking move."

With no energy left in your body, you wouldn't dream of it. Logan watched you take a careful sip, the water lukewarm, before he left you in what you finally realized was his bed. The first sip nourished your dry throat, like you’d walked for miles in the desert without tasting as much as a drop. Surging forward, you chugged the rest of the water before you fell back against his pillow, clutching the glass in the crook of your elbow.

The smell of him on his sheets overwhelmed your weakened mind; a deep heady smell with a warmth to it, woven through with the heaviness of man. It soothed your mushy muscles, helping release the tension in your body.

The time passed differently now, fast and slow at the same time, and after an eternity and a second Logan was back. The weight of him where he sat down at the edge of the bed, had your whole body tipping towards him. His large palm found your cheek again, the rough pads of his fingers soothing over the skin.

"You doin' okay?" he asked, his deep voice filtering through a hint of worry.

"W-what happened to him– to m-me?" you managed to croak out.

Logan's heavy hand didn't move away when the furrow between his eyebrows deepened, the one that seemed to be a permanent feature on his face.

"He had a seizure," he told you, like it was obvious, taking the glass of water from your hands,

He must've caught the way your face turned, the confusion that flitted across it, one that spelled 'seizures don't affect other people'.

"Listen," he started, drawing back his hand, "There’s no other way of explainin' it to you other than tellin' you that all those stories he's told you about him– about me… they're all true."

The frown that deepened over your face at his words, must've challenged the permanent one over Logan's face. "W-what? The stories about the X-Men?"

"Yes, the X-Men– Is he talkin' a hole through your head about anything else?"

"No, but… there aren't any more mutants."

"Not new ones,” he sighed, “But we're old, sweetheart– the last there is." His voice went quieter and quieter as he spoke, a hint of sadness eating the words, before his palm found your cheek again. "You see… Charles he's a very powerful mutant, and years ago he started a school for mutants–"

"–I know all of that already Logan– he told me," you cut him off, "I never believed him, I thought he was just confused– the stories they–"

"–I know, bub," this time he cut you off, but he let the next words linger on his tongue. Drawing back his hand, his eyes found the wall behind the bed. "I never meant for you to get hurt– it's my fault. If he gets his medication he's fine, but… you ain't the only one who's a few hundred dollars short– it's been a slow month."

Before you had a chance to reply, Logan rose on his feet. "The seizures messes with your brain, so get some rest. I'm gonna get his medication, and I'll wake ya in the mornin'." Logan didn't wait for you to protest before he grabbed the car keys off the table, and left you alone in his bed. 

Outside the moon climbed the sky, and the new darkness, along with your scrambled brain, had your eyelids feeling heavier and heavier.

……..

"Wake up, sweetheart."

Logan's gruff voice pulled you from a dreamless sleep; a sleep like you'd just closed your eyes. Blinking, your heavy eyelids pulled shut just as quickly as you'd opened them, leaving you with a snapshot of Logan's body hovering over you. You hummed, sleep coating your brain, while your body felt like you'd put it through the wringer at the gym.

"It's mornin'."

You tried again, blinking your eyes open with more success. Logan's black suit jacket was nowhere to be seen, instead he adorned a white tank top. Letting your gaze roll over him, you noticed the scars etched into his skin, so many scattered up and down his strong arms, and suddenly the memories of last night filtered back into your brain.

"Logan," you whispered so low even you weren't sure you’d heard it.

"I'm takin' you home, alright? I'll watch him today," he told you.

When Logan told you something, he meant it. Leaving you in his bed, it was like a replay of last night as he grabbed the car keys and black suit jacket off the table. 

Slowly, you sat up and leaned on your elbows, letting the world spin for a minute. Your clothes from yesterday clung to your skin, and you felt both cold and sweaty as you got out of bed.

With each step you took every muscle ached, but somehow you managed to walk out the door. The burning light of the morning sun blinded you, and with one hand raised you shielded your eyes from the harshness while you walked closer to the humming impatient motor of Logan's limousine. Just as you'd sunk into the leather seat and managed to shut the door behind you, Logan stepped on the gas, and the smelting plant vanished in the rearview window. 

When you'd finally left the dirt road behind and hit the highway, you cracked the window ever so slightly – the morning air blowing away the last of your tiredness. The closer you got to the city, the more your stomach growled. You hadn't had a thing to eat since lunch yesterday, the aftermath of Charles’ seizure knocking you out before dinner– you needed something to eat.

"Can we stop here?" you asked and pointed at a sign advertising a diner off the next exit.

"I'm drivin' you home," Logan replied, his eyes glued to the road.

"Logan, please, I'm starving," you begged with a pout.

A beat passed, his fingers tapping over the wheel as he weighed his options, then his eyes found yours where they lingered. Staring back, you didn't know what to do. Logan wasn't a man that said yes, he liked things done his way. You bit down on your bottom lip, showing off your front teeth like a silent 'please' written over your face, and Logan huffed.

The loud buzz of conversation hit you first when you stepped into the packed diner, Logan in tow. Waiters ran back and forth between the booths lining the windows, taking breakfast orders and pouring coffee, and at the sound of the bell as the door swung shut behind you, one of them looked up at you.

"Seat yourselves," she said with a smile as golden as the syrup poured over hotcakes, "I'll be with you in a jiffy."

Walking deeper into the diner, you found an empty booth in a quiet corner. Logan seemed pleased, never too keen on people, and after what you'd come to know after last night, you could understand his hesitation.

Logan. The Wolverine.

You remembered the comics from when you were a kid, remembered this one kid in your class in elementary school that had been obsessed with them, reading every issue and Wolverine had been his favorite. He was a scientist now, last you heard, and here you sat opposite the comic character himself.

"Mornin', what can I get you guys?" the waitress asked, pulling up to your table.

"Um," you grabbed at the laminated menu in front of you, your eyes scanning over the breakfast items. Everything looked good, your stomach growling loud as you took in the pictures, but then again you didn't think you'd ever been this hungry before.

"Just coffee f'me, ma'am," Logan grunted.

"Could I get a stack of the blueberry pancakes… and a coffee for me too, please?" you ordered, watching the waitress with the name tag 'Stacy' write down your order.

"That'll be all for you guys this morning?" she smiled.

"Yes, thank you," you returned her smile.

"Alright, I'll be back in a second with your coffees."

While you waited for your pancakes, Logan wasn't much company. He sipped his coffee, black and piping hot, as he leaned against the corner of the booth, legs spread wide, watching the people coming and going. In the silence between you, you decided to study him while you sipped your own coffee. He must've felt your gaze over him, from the way he clenched his jaw, but he never turned his head to look at you, instead he let you look.

When your pancakes finally arrived, you dug in immediately. Fresh, hot and deliciously pillow-y and soft, it was the best thing you'd had in a while. The blueberries weren't too sweet, cutting through the sweetness of the pancakes with a tangy taste, while the bitter taste of your coffee woke you up and filled you with new energy.

"So," Logan suddenly spoke up, almost making the piece of pancake you were chewing on go down the wrong pipe. "How you feelin'?"

"Like I'm having the worst hangover in human history," you joked, "But better now after some food and caffeine."

Logan only hummed, turning his head back to people watching as you ate your pancakes. His silence had a frown work over your features when you placed your knife and fork down to sip on your coffee. He'd been so quiet all morning, which in truth wasn't new, but there was something about him now, something about the way his scowl dug a little deeper into his skin that had you asking:

"What are you thinking about?"

"Nothin'," he answered, curt and to the point.

"Clearly it's something," you pried with a tilt of your head.

Another beat passed, before he leaned forward, a cough getting stuck in his throat. It sounded worse than it was, he'd told you once. So, you sipped your coffee, your eyes flitting away like you needed to give him privacy.

"I've been thinkin' about your proposal," he finally said, and you felt your eyebrows pull together in a frown.

"Wait?" your eyes found his, "What proposal?"

"About that subscription thing– the porn," he waved his hand, and leaned back again.

"Only Fans?" you asked, keeping your voice low, "It was just a joke, Logan."

"Well, maybe it's an idea for the both of us. I need money for Charles' medication, and you need money for rent– it'll just be us earnin' a little extra on the side, a win-win situation."

Letting his words sink in, you mulled over his idea in your brain. It wasn't like you weren't attracted to Logan, in truth, you'd wanted him to fuck you for a while now, but it had only been a fantasy, one to conjure forth late at night when you slipped your hand into your panties. To have it become a reality, served up by Logan himself on a silver platter, you'd never imagined.

How could you say no?

"Okay," you said, your voice breathy as what you'd just agreed to settled in your stomach. Having a little more cash in your account every month wouldn't hurt, and getting dick regularly sounded just as nice, it had been too long. "I'm in."

Logan only replied with a curt nod accompanied by an approving grunt, "Now eat your pancakes so we can get goin'."

………

"Cold feet?"

With the limousine parked outside your apartment building, a week's worth of anticipation came to a head. You and Logan hadn't really talked much in the days passed since the diner; Logan's main interest more in you feeling better after experiencing Charles' powers for the first time. He'd let you have a few days off, to heal up, to which you'd taken the opportunity to do some research and set up an Only Fans profile. Currently it was blank, but tonight that would change.

"No," you shook your head, telling true. "You?" you asked, turning in your seat to face Logan.

Logan eyes darted across your face. He never looked at you like that, and for a moment the oddity of the situation, of what you were about to do, settled in your stomach.

"No," Logan finally decided, and reached for the door handle, “Let’s get it over with before it gets too late.”

At his movement, you reached forward and grabbed his forearm, "Wait!"

With a grunt, Logan turned. "What?" he asked, his eyes settling on you with an eyebrow raised.

"I-I have an idea," you told him, and you didn't know why you stumbled over your words. With your hand still wrapped around his arm, his eyes fell to your touch, lingering before they found yours again.

"I was thinking–" you started, retracing your hand, "Well actually… I just restarted taking birth control and I wanted to settle into it before we have sex, so I thought maybe– if you want to of course," you rambled.

"Spit it out, bub, I ain't got all night," Logan cut you off.

"I thought maybe I could suck you off– here in the limo," you 'spat' out your suggestion, your front teeth immediately coming down to bully your bottom lip.

"You want to suck my cock… here?" he repeated. Leaning back in his seat, you didn't know if he spread his legs on purpose, or if he unconsciously drew your eyes to the bulge hidden behind his slacks.

"Yeah, I mean…" you shrugged, "I thought it could be hot? Like something that people would want to see?"

"Right," Logan hummed, reminded of the invisible audience, and reached for the key in the ignition.

Leaving your apartment building in the rearview mirror, Logan searched for a more secluded place to park. The windows in the back of the limousine were tinted, impossible to look into, but you didn't want to take the risk of getting caught. After finding an empty parking lot, backing up and occupying a more private space in the back corner, Logan guided you around the limousine with a hand resting gently over the small of your back. Climbing into the back with you, his broad form filled the space.

Inside, he'd turned on the lights, the colors slowly fading in and out and casting soft shadows across his features. The leather creaked as he sat down, his spread legs already inviting you to slot between. A fleeting feeling of nervousness tickled in your tummy, the reality of what you were about to do washing over you like a wave on a stormy ocean.

Logan watched you from his seat, a picture of sin in his suit, as he slipped his hand into the inner pocket of his jacket and fished out his glasses. His jacket fit snugly over his wide shoulders and he'd undone the top buttons where you could glimpse curling chest hair. The way he looked at you through the glasses, eyes dark and curious, had a warmth of arousal starting to pool in the core of yourself.

Clearing your throat, you spoke up, "I was thinking I could set my phone up here–" you pointed to the space between the leather seats and the window. "And then you could use your phone and film me?"

After a little bit of fiddling to get your phone to stay upright, you turned to Logan, your phone capturing your slow walk towards him. He sat with his legs spread wide, his large palms resting on either side of his thighs. When you reached for the hem of your shirt, his finger twitched, digging into the leather, and a toothy smile spread over your features.

Tossing your shirt you sunk to your knees and slotted between his legs. Looking up at him through your lashes, you held his gaze as you sat pretty for him, fanning out the skirt you'd worn specifically for today. He reached for his phone and pressed record when you curled your hands behind your back to undo the clasp of your bra, capturing your bare chest.

The air nipped at your exposed skin, making goosebumps ripple over your skin. Looking up at Logan, his eyes burned against your skin where he took in your breasts, his eyes glided over your bare skin for the first time and soothed out the bubbling nerves that had been brewing. When your eyes caught on the tent growing in his pants, you had to restrain yourself from surging forward, your mouth already watering at the thought of tasting him for the first time – of your wet dreams becoming a reality.

"S'pretty," he murmured, voice deep and guttural, soaked in arousal.

He cupped your cheek gently, the rough pad of his thumb skating over your skin bringing with it a calming safety. Your eyelashes fluttered as you tilted your head into his hand, desperate to feel more of the weathered skin of his hand against your body.

"Y'sure you want this, sweetheart?" he asked.

Opening your eyes, you held his gaze. "Yes, please," you nodded in his large palm, "It's the only thing I've thought about all day." And it was the truth.

"Shit, baby," he groaned in response, dragging his hand down your neck to rest heavy over the top of your breasts. "S'that so?"

Gathering your hands in your lap, you nodded slowly, your teeth caught on your bottom lip as his hand brushed over your right breast. "Thought of how you'd taste," you confessed, the phone in his hand forgotten as you focused entirely on Logan.

"Yeah?" he prompted. One knuckle brushed over your hardened nipples, pulling a quiet whimper from you– pleased he leaned back, "Take off my belt, then."

Bouncing on your knees, you leaned forward on his command, and pulled the leather belt from its loops. You did it slowly, tilting your head upwards to catch his eyes through the glasses. He helped you with the zipper, making you watch as he dragged it down.

With your eyes fixed on his hand you noticed three barely healed scars between every knuckle, and you remembered who Logan really was. The Wolverine. He caught you looking, and his hand tightened into a fist, tightening it for a beat before he relaxed it over his thigh. Leaning forward, you placed a soft kiss over his knuckles, and his hand dug into his thigh.

"Sweetheart," he breathed out, his voice strained.

In the depths of your chest you felt a pinch, a tiny stab in your heart that felt too real, too personal for what you were about to do. Willing it away, you leaned back on your ankles instead, your hands dipping into the waistband of his pants to pull down his slacks. Lifting his hips to help you ease them down, a quiet grunt escaped him, a deep sound that traveled down your spine and pooled in your core.

Behind the soft cotton of his underwear the firm hard line of his cock strained against the fabric. The sight of him, large and heavy, and hidden, had your eyes widening with lust, and a slickness soiling the gusset of your panties.

"You want my cock, don't you sweetheart?" he coaxed, his free hand finding your jaw where he cupped it, squeezing your cheeks together.

"Y-yes," you breathed out, your smile straining against his grip before you dropped your mouth open, showing him your tongue.

"There you go, baby– good girl," he praised, pressing his thumb down on your tongue and rubbing the saliva around. A soft moan caught in your throat at the praise, and behind the camera Logan's eyes darkened at his new discovery.

Wrapping both your hands around his wrist, you held his hand in place as you closed your lips around him. Slowly, you moved your head, up and down, up and down, hollowing your cheeks as you sucked on his thumb like you would his cock. Logan's eyes were intense behind his glasses, his jaw clenching tight while he stared into your own.

"Such a filthy little thing f'me– so desperate for my cock down your throat you'll suck anything, ain't that right?"

A choked moan escaped you; they way he talked to you adding fuel to the fire in your core. Between the seam of your cunt you ached, wet arousal dripping into your soiled panties. He must've watched the way you melted for him, your brain turning to mush in front of him, because when he pulled his hand away, he laughed. A deep guttural thing from the depth of his chest.

"C'mon little angel," he tapped at your cheek, "Let's put you out of your misery."

Clouded in arousal, your brain stalled at the nickname, and you felt a new gush of arousal spill between the seam of your cunt. Logan's nostrils flared and a wild darkness settled over his face.

Shifting on your knees, you leaned forward to palm him through his underwear. Making sure to flick your eyes up at him (and the camera), you dragged your finger up and down gently, seductively, before you leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his clothed length. Above you, Logan sucked in a breath, his free hand coming down to pet your head and press your face firmly against his bulge.

You couldn't help but breathe him in. Breathe in the heady deep scent of man, cheap whiskey and cigars – the unique scent of Logan. When you let out the softest little sigh, you felt him twitch against you, and quickly his hand on your head traveled down to the back of your neck where he pulled you back with a harsh yank.

You yelped.

"No more teasin'–" he reprimanded and let go of you, "Be a good little angel and make me come."

Logan leaned back into the leather, his body relaxed and inviting with one hand still occupied with filming you. Watching the deep furrow forming between his brows, and the way his eyes burned your face through his glasses, you could tell he wanted to take control, make you do what he wanted.

With a curling smile, knowing full and well you had the upper hand with one of his hands occupied, you slipped your eager hands into the elastic waistband of his underwear and tugged.

A wild and wiry patch of graying hair met you first, and you felt a flock of eagerness flutter in your stomach. Tugging the fabric down slowly, you made a show of revealing just an inch at a time. When you finally reached the end of him, you felt the wet head of him graze your cheek, leaving a streak of precum, as it sprung free.

His hard cock bopped heavily in front your face, and you felt your eyes widen at his size. He was big. The hefty length of him cushioned against his balls hanging heavy over the band of his underwear. Reaching a shaky hand forward you took him in your hand for the first time and familiarized yourself with the thick weight of him. With your other hand you traced the thick veins that lined the girth of him, memorizing every ridge and freckle before coming up to thumb at the fat tip where a pearl of wetness beaded.

A mix of awe and uncertainty pooled in your chest. How in the hell were you gonna fit all of him down your throat?

"'s okay, angel," he cooed, his heavy hand back to stroke over your head. His touch soothed you, a rhythmic warmth that shed all your insecurities.

With a content sigh you leaned forward and parted your lips to press a soft kiss to the leaking tip, pulling a "There you go, good girl, open your mouth f'me," from Logan. Urged on by his praise, you got a little braver. Flattening your tongue against him you started with a few gentle, teasing licks to the tip, your tongue dipping into the slit to taste him in earnest.

Above you, a groan rumbled in Logan's chest, a sound that had you eagerly taking more of him in your mouth. Suckling carefully on the fat tip, you let your tongue tease the underside of him, humming in content when you felt him harden even more in your hands.

Letting the excess spit run down the length of him, it pooled over your hands where they struggled to wrap around the thick girth. Slick sounds came from your hands when you started to move them over the soft skin, coating him fully in your saliva with every tug.

"Shit, bub, y'look so fuckin' good around my cock," Logan's voice vibrated from his chest, "But y'can take it deeper, can't you? Take that big cock down your throat?"

Well, you would certainly try.

Your knees dug into the carpeted floor of the limousine, pressing a deep pattern into your skin. Popping off his cock, you sat up a little more and shifted your weight. Looking up at him through your lashes, you were reminded of the camera pointed at you. Looking straight down the barrel of his phone you sunk down further on his cock.

Dropping your jaw, you felt your lips stretch as his hefty cock filled your throat. All too quickly the head of him kissed the back of your throat and you had to fight your gag reflex. Pulling off with a gasp, your eyes widened as you looked up at him.

"It's so big," you told him, both of your slicked hands jerking him in a slow rhythm.

"I know, angel," he cooed, his thumb running over your cheek. Leaning forward again, you placed a soft kiss to the fat head, and he hissed, "Too big f'you?"

"No," you shook your head, smearing the head from one corner of your mouth to the other, spreading the precum leaking onto your lips, and humming at the taste of him. "It's perfect– taste so perfect," you said through a pillowy kiss to the head.

With a buck of his hips, he pushed back into your eager mouth, slipping the fat head through your swollen lips and into your flexed throat, "That's it– right where it belongs, huh?"

Fitting him as deep as you could down your throat you felt dizzy with desire, an almost overwhelming feeling; the smell of him so close, how he filled your mouth and made your jaw ache. When your nose pressed into the grayed patch of wiry hair at the base of his cock, you spluttered with need, spit soaking the length of him as you came off him with a cough.

In an instance, Logan was on you, his free hand petting your cheek as he searched your eyes, "You okay?" I wouldn't be until after, when you edited the video that you'd realize he'd dropped the phone, focusing only on you in that moment.

"Yes," you replied, looking into his eyes with a toothy smile, "I want more– I want your cum."

"Fuck," he hissed, letting go of your cheek and leaning back into the leather seat, pointing his phone at you, "Go on."

Fitting him back down your throat again, you got lost in it as you found a rhythm. With a hand stationed at the base, you bobbed your head, letting your tongue dance over the length. More saliva dripped down and pooled over your hand, slicking up his pubes. It was messy, and hot, sticky and wet. Above you, Logan muttered praises between grunts and moans, encouraging you to take him deeper and deeper.

Feeling your throat loosen with every bob of your head, you pushed down and swallowed around him. Your eyelashes fluttered as you gagged and coughed, tears starting to prickle from your eyes, but you were determined to please him– to make him feel good.

When his hand came down to wrap around your throat, his thumb skating over your neck to feel himself, your eyes rolled back in your head in pleasure – the sight of you making Logan let out a deep growl. He kept the hand clasped around your throat as he started to buck his hips, feeding you his cock in small lazy thrusts.

"Right there, angel, so fuckin' good f'me… my good girl– choke on it," he mumbled.

You hummed around him at the praise, the vibrations pulling another deep moan from him. Fucking your face, bubbling spit trickled out the corner of your lips, soaking him and the coarse hair on his balls where they slapped heavy against your chin. Slipping a hand between your thighs, you couldn't help but touch yourself through your underwear – the white cotton translucent and drenched with your arousal.

Chasing his high, Logan's thrusts started to come quicker. More and more saliva overflowed, dripping down your bare chest and slicking you up in depravity. The grip Logan had around his phone was lazy, but he made sure to capture the way the shifting colors of the low limousine light gleamed over your slicked up chest.

"Such a good fuckin' throat–" he growled, squeezing around your throat as he pushed himself as deep as he could. Your nose brushed the wiry patch of his pubic hair, and you felt yourself start to gag around him as your lungs squeezed and throat tightened. He kept you down as you spluttered and swallowed around the length of him, and when the edges of the world started to blur he pulled you off with a jerk.

Gasping for air and filling your lungs with lost breaths, the hand Logan had wrapped around your neck was now pushing your own hand away to wrap around himself. The tears on your cheek mixed with the strings of saliva on your chin, as you looked up at him through fluttering lashes. Watching him stroke his cock, your eyes widened with interest as you shifted on your knees to sit up straighter.

His hard cock pulsated and throbbed with need as he stroked. Up and down you watched his hand; watched how beads of precum drooled over his fingers, mixing with your saliva before it dripped down onto your chest. A primal feeling came over you – an urge so strong to taste him come undone and claim you as his.

"Please," you begged, the fat head ghosting against your lips with every jerk, "come for me, please– wanna taste you so badly."

Logan's grunts and growls grew deeper and wilder as he stroked himself faster. "Look at me, angel," he ordered, and when your eyes locked with his, combined with a final hard stroke, he aimed the wet tip towards your face and came hard.

The first pump of his sticky warm seed, made you flinch before a smile widened and you leaned closer. Dropping your mouth open, he came all over your face, coating your cheeks, your nose, and forehead. Thumbing at the tip, he aimed at your waiting mouth to squeeze out the last few drops, and he finally let you taste him.

Wrapping your lips around the head, you suckled around him through content hums. You were covered in his cum, claimed, feeling the sticky seed drip down the bridge of your nose. You loved the way he tasted, salty and bitter, like Logan.

When the feeling of your tongue dancing over his sensitive head became too much, he pulled away with a hiss. His phone was still aimed at your face, and a little more clear-headed he filmed the aftermath of his orgasm closer.

"Even prettier with my cum on your face, angel," he said, letting his finger drag over your skin to collect his cum.

Pretty.

"Thank you," you whispered, your throat hoarse as he fed you his cum.

You hummed around his finger as he cleaned you up, making sure not a single drop would go to waste, and when he was pleased with his work after you'd shown him your empty tongue, he cupped your cheek.

"Good little angel," he told you with a pad, and pressed the stop button on his phone.

Back at your apartment the buzz of the excitement of the night lingered as you replayed the scene on your computer. You thought about Logan, about where he was and who might sit in the seat where you'd sucked him off only hours earlier. You thought about how filthy his mouth had been, and how much it had turned you on. And lastly, you thought about how you couldn't wait to see him again, and for him to finally fuck you.

Editing the video together, the last thing you did before you fell asleep was upload. Logan had taken a photo of your hand over his clothed cock before he'd left you, a picture that was now set as your profile picture. All tuckered out, you closed your computer and fell back against your pillows, dreaming of the smell of leather and cheap whiskey.

James & Angel ✨👼 📍 Texas subscribers: 15,478

1 post: "cute girl gives older limousine driver a sloppy blowjob"

..................

hopefully this was okay? i have concepts of a part 2 lol so please don't ask for it. instead, a comment telling me your favorite part is always welcome, and/or tell me what you'd comment under james' & angel's first video! my ask box is always open to chat <3 and thank you for reading!!

© shellshocklove, 2024 i do not give any permission to repost, translate, feed to AI or redistribute any of my writing, with or without credit!

[lakesbian]

nobody move. i've just successfully articulated the sentiment that taylor's power turns her into a panopticon because she was living in one & explained her trigger in a way i feel satisfied with for the first time in my life

the concept of the panopticon is not just about surveillance, but about creating an environment where people cannot be sure whether or not they are being surveilled, and thus must constantly act under the assumption that they are. which is exactly what happened to taylor--we see from when we first meet her in the school that she's anticipating attack from every possible direction to avoid it, and the one time she lets her guard down a fraction and assumes she's found a safe spot to hide from abuse, she's targeted with the juice spills. and this is after her trigger event, but it's clear she behaves this way because it was beaten into her over the entire course of the bullying. it's what she describes when she recounts the trigger:

“I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop.  But I made a friend, one of the girls who had sometimes joined in on the taunting came to me and apologized.  ...  Her approaching me and befriending me was one of the big reasons I could think the harassment was ending.  I never really let my guard down around her, but she was pretty cool about it. “And for most of November and the two weeks of classes before Christmas break, nothing.  They were leaving me alone.  I was able to relax.” I sighed, “That ended the day I came back from the winter break. I knew, instinctually, that they were playing me, that they were waiting before they pulled their next stunt, so it had more impact. I didn’t think they’d be so patient about it. I went to my locker, and well, they’d obviously raided the bins from the girls bathrooms or something, because they’d piled used pads and tampons into my locker. Almost filled it.”

the precise moment when she stopped consciously anticipating and preparing to react to abuse--when she relaxed, when she stopped acting as if the lack of danger didn't mean that she couldn't still be hurt at any time--is when she was brutally reminded that she's never safe. she's still in the panopticon. she isn't literally being watched every second, she isn't literally in lifelong danger of having her vulnerabilities exploited, but it feels like she is. she can never ever be sure she's safe.

so she triggers, and she gets a power that turns her into a panopticon, and lets her watch everyone right back. it lets her regain control by turning her into a source of danger that could attack anywhere, from any direction, any time, fully unexpected.

& the reason her power enables her to watch Everyone--not just a single person, or a few people--but Everyone, is that the other major aspect of her trigger is the trauma of facts like this:

“It was pretty obvious that they had done it before the school closed for Christmas, by the smell alone. I bent over to throw up, right there in a crowded hallway, everyone watching. Before I could recover or stop losing my breakfast, someone grabbed me by the hair, hard enough it hurt, and shoved me into the locker.”

"All I could think was that someone had been willing to get their hands that dirty to fuck with me, but of all the students that had seen me get shoved in the locker, nobody was getting a janitor or teacher to let me out."

for months, for years, she was in a community where everyone regularly witnessed her humiliation and abuse, and everyone, dozens and dozens of kids and teachers, either contributed to it or was knowingly, silently complacent. this is what sticks with her: the idea that she is so universally reviled, so deserving of revile, that any crowd of witnesses would, without hesitation, consign her to the filth of the locker.

what else is she supposed to conclude, but that everyone she interacts with is a threat? that she can't drop her guard ever again, because no one will be coming to help her if she does? of course she has to become the panopticon. of course she has to watch everyone, all of the time, if she wants to stop it from happening again. of course she has to live among the teeming lowly and crawling things she has been taught via one firm shove that she is worth less than, and of course she has to use them to watch everyone back. and it would be inaccurate to say that doing this--monitoring everything with her bugs--makes her feel safe. all it does is allow her to remain in a constant state of paranoia and traumatized hyper-vigilance more efficiently.

[ashwhowrites]

An idea that popped in my head before bed. I hope you guys enjoy it! Been a bit since I've written my own Robin idea so I hope it's worth the read 🫶🏻🩷

Robin writes a love note for Vickie but accidentally puts it in Readers locker

Wrong locker

Robin has been trying to figure out the best way to confess her feelings to Vickie. Robin figured since she couldn't even speak a word to the pretty redhead in general, writing down her feelings would be best. But Robin didn't want to sound like a crazy stalker so she settled for a simple love note.

Robin took a deep breath as she walked to Vickie's locker, she slipped the pink paper in the small cracks. She held her breath as the note dropped in. The sound of the bell had her racing to the other side of the hallway. She tried to look busy but kept her eye on the locker.

She smiled as Vickie walked up, but her stomach dropped when she noticed Vickie was opening the locker next to the one with the note. Robin panicked, whose locker was the note in?

Fear filled Robin's bones as Y/N walked up. The girl's atmosphere was terrifying. Her leather jacket smelled of cigarettes and perfume. Her healed black boots echoed down the halls. Her tight jeans framed her body along with her tight band T-shirt. She was intimating, and she liked to be. Her sharp eyes glared at anyone who looked at her. A snarl on her lips if anyone bothered to talk near her.

Robin felt like she wanted to die when Y/N opened her locker, the pink note falling to Y/N's feet. Robin prayed she wouldn't pick it up, maybe stomp on it and move on.

But no, Y/N picked up the note. Robin was stuck in her spot, she needed to run but she couldn't move.

Y/N tried to keep the smile off her face. No one has seen her smile and that wasn't going to change. But she couldn't help but feel her heart flutter at the sweet note. She knew she was intimidating and scared people off. But she's never had someone see her in such a romantic way.

She knew of Robin Buckley, the cute bandgirl. Y/N played on the volleyball team and the band always played at their games. Was Robin watching her the whole time?

Y/N put the note in her pocket, closing her locker. She turned around to walk to class when she spotted Robin staring. Once they made eye contact, Robin looked down at her shoes.

Please don't walk up to me

Please please please

"Hey Buckley," Y/N's voice ran shivers up Robin's spine. She gulped and looked up. Y/N stood in front of her, her confident frame stood tall.

"I'm sorry! The note was-" Robin went to explain what happened but Y/N cut her off.

"The note was very sweet. Thank you, it made my day. I'll call you." Y/N said, a smirk on her face as she took in Robin's nervous frame.

Robin didn't dare to breath until Y/N strutted off.

~~~

"And turns out it was the wrong locker!" Robin explained, her voice wavering between pitches. Her nervous hands were shaking as she told the story to Steve.

Steve nodded along with his arms crossed. Robin tended to talk throughout their shifts and not do any work. So Steve picked up the slack. But the place was dead so gossip time took full attention.

"Whose did it end up in?" Steve asked, he uncrossed his arms as he reached to grab his drink.

"Y/N."

Steve's eyes went wide and his water flew out of his mouth. Steve was a grade above Y/N throughout high school, and even he was terrified of her. He prayed he'd never run into her after graduation. Her sneer and hard eyes kept him up at night. He still has nightmares about the day he ran into her, his hot coffee staining her shirt. Steve could almost feel the bruises on his cheek forming again.

"You're fucked!" Steve said.

"Dingus! Don't you think I know that? She said she was going to call me! What the hell do I do?" Robin panicked.

"Maybe she won't call you! Let's not stress about anything yet." Steve said

~~~

Robin sighed in relief when she crawled into bed, not a single phone call from Y/N. Maybe Y/N just wanted to make Robin nervous and never planned to do anything about the note.

Ring

Ring

Ring

Robin gulped as she picked up the phone, she hoped more than anything that Steve was calling about his lame date.

"Sorry, gorgeous. Volleyball went very late." Y/N's voice traveled through the phone, and it still made Robin nervous.

"It's okay." Robin gulped, her fingers playing with the telephone cord.

"I know this place downtown, maybe Friday night after the game, we can go?"

Robin tried to say no, all she had to do was explain the mix-up. But she was scared of Y/N's reaction. One date couldn't hurt, maybe Y/N would realize how boring Robin was and wouldn't be interested.

~~~

Robin packed up her instrument, talking with Vickie about the game. Robin tried her best to keep the conversation going.

"Ready gorgeous?" Y/N asked. Robin couldn't help but blush at the nickname being said to her face. Y/N was sweaty and panting from the game, and Robin couldn't help but find it hot.

"Yeah just gotta pack up." Robin rushed out, her eyes meeting Y/N's for one quick second.

"Okay. I'm going to change then I'll meet you in the parking lot?" Y/N suggested. Robin nodded and felt the air return to her lungs when she walked away.

"What's going on?" Vickie asked, she didn't bother to hide how shocked she was.

"She kinda asked me out." Robin shrugged.

"Oh, cool," Vickie said, but Robin couldn't help but notice how displeased Vickie looked about the news. Was she jealous?

~~~

Robin tried not to stare at Y/N as they walked into the bar, but Y/N looked hot in her tight black jeans, tank top, and signature leather jacket. Robin tried to ignore how sweaty her palms were.

Robin was confused about why they'd go to a bar when they weren't of age, but Y/N knew the bartender it seemed. Y/N walked to the back booth, near a pool table.

Y/N had a beer and Robin had an iced tea. Y/N made good conversation and Robin was surprised by the things they had in common. Robin found herself enjoying Y/N's presence.

A few hours passed and Robin swung her feet as Y/N played pool. Robin didn't know how to play and she did not want to look like an idiot in front of Y/N.

"Come here and just try!" Y/N encouraged, she's been trying to get Robin to play for the last hour. But Robin kept shaking her head.

Y/N gave up on convincing Robin, instead, she'd make Robin do it.

Robin gulped as Y/N grabbed her hand and lifted her off the stool.

"No, I'm not any good!" Robin tried but Y/N shushed her. Y/N placed the stick in Robin's hand, stood behind her, and corrected her form. Robin couldn't help but feel slightly turned on as Y/N's body was pressed against her back. The feeling of Y/N's breath against her ear, and Y/N's arms wrapped around her, made Robin feel fuzzy.

Robin took a deep breath, letting Y/N guide her to hit the small white ball. Robin watched as the stick hit the ball, it rolled and rolled until it smacked into a red ball, disappearing into the corner.

"You did it!" Y/N cheered, Robin couldn't help but get lost in her dazzling smile. At that moment Y/N didn't seem so scary and intimidating. She looked beautiful and happy.

~~~

A few weeks passed and Robin cursed herself for leading Y/N on. Robin couldn't help but be swept up in all the dates and how special Y/N made her feel. It made Robin wonder why she never looked at Y/N in the first place.

But Robin was tugged between Vickie as well. The girl the note was made for. It seemed Vickie was jealous of all the dates between Robin and Y/N. Robin remembered the hard look in Vickie's eyes when she showed up in Y/N's jacket.

"Are you cold?" Y/N asked, her hand laced with Robin's as they walked through the carnival. Robin wore a thin long sleeve, not expecting the wind to be chilly.

"No, I'm fine!" Robin argued, but the shivering of her teeth and tight shoulders gave her up.

Y/N smiled and took off her jacket, placing the warm leather over Robin's shoulders. Immediately lacing their hands together again.

A jacket Robin still hasn't given back. She wore it every day to school. To make Vickie jealous? Or to have pride she got Y/N to go soft? She wasn't sure.

She felt torn between both girls.

~~~

"Do you like her?" Steve asked, he felt bad for the situation Robin got herself in.

"I think so? But I don't know if I like her because she makes Vickie jealous." Robin explained. She was stuck in her personal hell.

"Well if Vickie's jealous, it means she has feelings for you. So you have your answer. Vickie is interested and single. Do you want to go after her? Or stay with Y/N?"

"I think I want Vickie. I mean the note was meant for her but I'm afraid if Y/N finds out the note was for Vickie, she'll snap me in half " Or maybe she was worried it would snap Y/N in half.

~~~

Robin sat across Y/N as she sipped on a milkshake. Robin's stomach hurt too much to enjoy the sweetness.

"Are you okay? You look like you might be sick." Y/N said, her milkshake pushed to the side as she reached across for Robin's hand. Robin gulped as Y/N's soft thumb rubbed her skin.

Just say it, Robin repeated in her head. She needed to tell the truth before Y/N truly fell for Robin.

"I need to tell you something," Robin said, her free hand gripping the leather jacket by her lap. Y/N encouraged her with a small smile.

"Remember the note?"

"Of course I do." Y/N smiled

"I put it in the wrong locker," Robin said quickly, wincing as the words finally were put into the air.

"What do you mean?" Y/N asked, her head turned as she tried to understand.

"I wrote the note for Vickie and I was scared to tell you. " Robin looked up to catch Y/N's reaction. The smile turned upside down as a frown covered its place. Robin has never seen so much emotion on Y/N's face. And just like she feared, the terrifying hard mask appeared on Y/N's face.

Robin tried not to flinch as Y/N removed her hand and moved it quickly into her lap. Robin's palm smacked the table. As always, Robin ran her mouth until she made it worse.

"And I just didn't want to hurt you! And I was a little scared you'd break me in half. So I went along with the date, not expecting you'd like me! Because like I'm me and I'm so boring compared to you. I figured you'd see dating me was blah and wouldn't be interested. But then you asked for more dates and I was-"

"Scared to say no, yeah got it." Y/N barked. She was an idiot to believe someone saw her as something else than a scary monster that lurked in the halls. All this time, she thought Robin saw something in her, something worth liking and learning to love. But no, Robin was scared just like everyone else.

Y/N refused to let how upset she was shown on her face. She shook it off and grabbed her wallet. She slammed down some bills on the table, the harsh air hitting Robin's hand, she flinched again.

Robin was scared to look up as Y/N stood up. She was too scared to see the look on Y/N's face.

"Look at me," Y/N growled, Robin swallowed nervously and looked up. But there was a softness in Y/N's eyes.

"You're not boring, and you're not blah. You're funny, fun, and beautiful. Don't think so low of yourself. Next time, make sure the note goes in the right locker. I'll see you around Buckley."

Robin didn't know what to say. Y/N walked off, leaving her jacket with Robin.

~~~

Robin barely slept that night. She felt so guilty, and not all relieved. She thought telling Y/N would take the weight off her shoulders, but it was the opposite. The weight on her shoulders now crushed down on her chest.

Y/N's jacket thrown over Robin's desk chair was a painful reminder she had to see Y/N again.

The next morning, Robin held the jacket in her arms as she walked up to Y/N's locker.

"Um hey," Robin said quietly, Y/N and Vickie looked up at the sound of her voice. Robin shrunk under the gaze of both girls.

Y/N figured she was talking to Vickie so she turned back around to her locker.

Robin couldn't help but feel like she was slapped in the face as Y/N ignored her completely.

"I have your jacket." She said, tapping Y/N's shoulder. Y/N turned around, grabbed the jacket, and slipped it back on her body. In a way Robin felt a weird feeling of pride. She knew it was Y/N's jacket in the first place, but Robin wore it for weeks to where it almost felt like hers. It felt like Y/N was wearing Robin's jacket.

"Thanks," Y/N muttered the locker behind her slammed shut as she quickly walked off. Y/N couldn't watch Robin and Vickie talk about their feelings.

"Yikes, she's back to cold." Vickie observed.

"Yeah I kinda broke things off," Robin explained, a feeling in her stomach as Vickie tried to fight off a smile.

"Oh that's too bad!" Vickie said, but Robin could hear the excitement in her voice. "What happened?"

"I wrote this note to ask you out and I accidentally put it in her locker. I've been too scared to tell her but I finally did. And I think she hates me." Robin said, looking over her shoulder but Y/N was long gone.

"Ask me out?" Vickie asked, a smile on her face.

"Yeah," Robin said with a smile. Her face warmed when Vickie reached forward to lace their hands together. Robin couldn't help but notice Vickie's grip wasn't as tight and safe as Y/N's. Robin didn't feel like she was protected like the way she did in Y/N's hands.

"I'd love to!" Vickie cheered, both girls sharing a bright smile.

But Robin couldn't help but feel an unsettling feeling in her stomach.

~~~

It didn't take long for Robin and Vickie to officially be together. Steve was proud of Robin for finally making a choice, but even he couldn't help but feel like it was the wrong one.

Robin spent every minute with Vickie, searching for the fluttering in her stomach that she had with Y/N. Robin thought it was fear but maybe it was excitement.

Robin tried to fight off the frown on her face when Y/N passed her in the halls. No more warm smile sent her way. Just a hard look, the same look she gave everyone else.

Was Vickie the right choice?

[javiscigarette]

Sweet Spot

Summary: You get a promotion at work, so Joel dresses you up and takes you out for dinner but you're hungry for somethin else

Warnings: no use of y/n, smut with the tiniest sliver of plot, established relationship, fingering, fingering in public, rough sex, oral (m receiving), spitting, a bit of choking, daddy kink ofc, degradation,

w/c: 9k (omfg) of pwp :)

a/n: I don't loveee this one but I've been sitting on it for three months and I can't get the image of freshly showered Joel out of my mind so. Here we are. Also the daddy kink as taken over, I cant stop and I'm NOT sorry!! Pls let me know what you guys think, your comments and love are the only things keeping me going. (also also, if you're someone who likes making edits for pics PLS message me I am desperate and really bad at making them)

my masterlist

Joel is in the driveway leaning over the hood of his truck when you pull up to the house, fiddling with whatever new project he decided to start this afternoon. You’re able to catch a quick glimpse of his shirt riding up a bit, exposing an inch or two of the skin of his back before he hears your car and turns around. 

You pull into the driveway next to his truck and hop out as soon as you’re in park. The warm sound of Joel’s laughter fills the air as you squeal excitedly, running around the front of your car and into his outstretched arms. He pulls you close into him, his black t-shirt hot from the sun has he squeezes you tightly. He smells like motor oil and sweat and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t get you going just a little bit. 

“M’guessing it went well?” Joel asks when he pulls back, chuckling as he watches you bounce up and down on your toes. 

You’d been working on this presentation for your job for two weeks now, spending hours smoothing out every minor detail, giving mock presentations to Joel and staying up late worrying about how it’ll go. 

“Everyone loved it, Joel!” you nearly shout. 

“And guess what?” you ask, not giving him any time to respond. “I got promoted!” you squeal. 

Joel’s chest is about to burst with pride. 

“M’so proud of you, angel. You worked so hard for it.” Joel tells you, his voice soft and sincere as he holds you against him. 

“We need to get in the shower,” Joel says, turning away from you to lower the hood of his truck. “I’m taking you out.” 

—-----------

You sit on the edge of the bed with your towel wrapped around your waist, waiting patiently for Joel to return from the closet. It's no surprise when he returns with a bundle of black fabric – in his hands is his favorite thing you own: the lacey black 3 piece set and the thigh high stockings to match. 

He has a wide smile, his eyes sparkling with affection as he looks at you. With a soft smile in return, you drop your towel allowing it to pool on the bed around you as you expose yourself completely for him. 

“You’re so pretty, baby” 

Your ears perk up at the slight strain in his voice. You look down and grin, the outline of his half-hard cock clear as day under his black boxer briefs. 

“We’re never gonna make it to the restaurant” you laugh and move to stand up for him, despite wishing he would just give in right now and fuck you until you couldn’t see straight. 

But he just shakes his head with a chuckle as he takes your place, sitting on the edge of the bed with you standing between his knees.

“Yes we will, angel. And we’ll play when we get back, give you whatever you want…if you’re good” Joel promises, easily reading your mind. 

You huff dramatically as he picks out the garter belt from the pile and holds it up to you. He doesn’t say anything, just braces himself when you reach out and grip his shoulder for balance as you lift up one leg.   

He bends over, holding the belt open so that you can step with one foot and then the other. He then straightens back up, pulling the fabric up your legs as he does so. Heat pools in your tummy when you look down at him and see his brows knitted together in serious concentration as he dresses you. 

He does this all the time. The routine is committed to muscle memory at this point. 

It’s not that he cares about what you wear, he couldn’t give two shits as long as you’re comfortable. But the power in deciding what you’re going to wear underneath, or if you’re going to wear anything at all, gives him a rush. And he’s positively obsessed with being the one to dress you up in it, says it’s like “wrapping his own present that he gets to rip open later”. 

Goosebumps erupt all over your skin under his warm fingers. You feel so beautiful in these moments, with Joel so focused on your body inches away from his face, his eyes wide and his cock hard just at the mere sight of your exposed skin and the excitement of seeing you in whatever he picks out for you. 

He settles the belt around your waist, making sure all the edges are untucked and lying flat before reaching for the thong and repeating the process. 

“So fucking, pretty” Joel mumbles as he smooths the lace over your hips, adjusting the elastic so it stretches perfectly over your skin. Then he’s spinning you around so until you’re facing the other away, your ass on full display for him. He can’t help but press a kiss to your cheek before straightening out the back of your thong, his mouth watering at the sight of the thin strip of fabric disappearing in between your cheeks. 

Mindlessly, he reaches around to your front and slips his hand between your thighs. The tips of his fingers just barely brush over the lace of your thong but he can feel the heat of your swollen pussy underneath. 

 He sighs and wraps his other arm around your waist and pulls you back into him until his cheek is squished against your lower back, his scruff scratching lightly against your sensitive skin. His fingers keep dancing over you with minimal pressure behind his touch. 

“Joel,” you whimper quietly, already getting all worked up from his minimal teasing. He just shushes you and presses another warm kiss to the back of your hip. After a couple more seconds of light brushes he slips his middle finger into the side of your thong to find your entrance and immediately sinks it inside of you. 

You yelp in surprise, and reflexively try to take a step away from him, but he’s got you tight in his grip. 

“Just wanna feel you, baby” Joel mumbles against your skin, his beard tickling you and making the muscles in your lower back twitch. He closes his eyes, fully focused on feeling your wet walls flutter gently around his finger. His brow furrows and his mouth drops open slightly when he hears your quiet whimper, the sweet sound going straight to his already painfully hard cock. 

He doesn’t even mean to tease you most of the time. Sure, he loves seeing you get all worked up just from a few gentle touches and he adores watching you fall apart underneath him, collapsing into a begging mess for him before he’s even really done anything. But most of the time it’s a genuine need to touch you. It’s like he needs to have physical contact with your body at all times, serving as a reminder that you’re real, you’re here and you’re all his. 

He slides his finger out a few seconds later, much to your disappointment. But before you can complain, he spins you back around and stares you in the eyes as brings his finger up in front of you and gently pushes it between your parted lips. You allow him without any hesitation, and he watches you in awe as you lick and suck his finger clean of your arousal, his jaw slack and eyes dark and wide.

“Ain’t it sweet, angel?” Joel asks, breathless with amusement and lust. 

You nod and he grins before slowly sliding his finger out of your mouth. 

“S’a good girl, baby” Joel comments as he reaches for one of the thigh high stockings. His praise wraps around your heart and melts into your veins, just his simple words making you feel warm and floaty. 

You watch him as he bunches up the stocking at the foot, holding it open for you to step in before pulling it up your leg. He smooths out the lace edge and makes sure that it’s even all around your thigh before he fastens the clips of the garter belt to the top of the stocking. He does the same thing with your other leg before turning you around again and fastening the clips in the back. 

Joel turns you around so you’re facing him again and then presses a kiss to the top of each thigh. 

“Fuckin’ perfect” he sighs as he leans back and admires his work. 

You blush under his gaze, his eyes burning holes in your skin as he stares hungrily. He stands up after a few moments and reaches for the matching bralette, helping you slip it over your shoulders before fastening the clasps in the back. 

He looks down at you and tries to resist the urge to touch you again but he can’t keep himself away. And the small moan you let out when he brings both his thumbs up to brush over your nipples through the lace has him nearly giving in right then and there. 

You look up at him with pleading eyes, silently telling him that you’re not going to be good for much longer if he keeps this up. He stares back at you and thinks about pushing you, letting you act like a bad girl before fucking some sense into you. But he decides he wants to show you off first. 

“Go get dressed, baby” Joel instructs gently with a smile. “Pick something nice for me.” 

— 

You decide on a black dress, one that clings to all the right places while just barely concealing the tops of your stockings and the clips holding them in place. You finish getting ready in the bathroom, and when you walk back out to the bedroom, you nearly collapse at the sight in front of you.

Joel is standing in front of the floor-length mirror with his back turned to you. He’s wearing a simple outfit: black trousers with a black button down to match. The top two buttons of his shirt are undone and your mouth waters at the exposed skin of his thick neck and broad chest. 

It’s almost unfair how good he looks with his hair pushed back just slightly, the damp locks just starting to curl into their usual pattern as they air dry. Your heart races at the thought of tangling your fingers into the ones laying at the nape of his neck. His eyes meet yours in the mirror and he smirks as he finishes rolling up his sleeves until they rest perfectly at his elbows.

He then reaches for his rings – the ones you got for him as part of his birthday present earlier this year, the small gold bands that you insisted would look good on him – and picks them up from where they’re sitting on the dresser. And clearly you were right because when he turns to face you, you almost moan out loud watching him slide a ring down one pinky and then the other. He crosses the room towards you, your knees trembling as he shamelessly rakes his eyes up and down your figure. 

“Stunning” Joel whispers, shaking his head slightly in disbelief. His hands easily find your hips and he gently turns you around so you’re facing the mirror, your back pressed into his warm, broad chest. 

“I love you, angel. And I’m so fuckin’ proud of you, you know that right?” Joel asks as he wraps both arms around your waist and hooks his chin over your shoulder. 

“Yes, Joel, I know. I love you too” you giggle, easily flustered at his praise. 

“M’serious, baby. So proud of how hard you work, how dedicated you are” Joel starts, moving to nuzzle his face against your neck. “How smart you are” Joel continues, his lips brushing delicately over your sensitive skin. You melt so easily underneath him, relaxing into the soft glide of his warm palms up and down your sides as he whispers sweet words of praise into your neck. 

“And I bet you looked fuckin’ sexy doing it too” Joel growls,  his hands tightening on your hip. You let out a mixture between a sniffle and laugh and then feel Joel’s lips curve into a smile against your neck. He presses a kiss behind your ear and straightens back up and turns you around to face him. 

Joel’s heart turns to liquid when you look up at him through watery lashes with a wide smile. He smiles down at you and brings a hand up to wipe away your tears with the pad of his thumb before placing a sweet kiss on your forehead. 

“Now let’s get goin’. I think my good girl deserves to be spoiled.” 

— 

Joel was back to teasing you as soon got in his truck and continued to do so the whole ride to the restaurant. He kept one hand on the wheel, using the other to slide up and down your thigh, occasionally fiddling with your garter straps or just brushing the lace edge of your thong with his fingertips.

And now you’re seated at a table in a dark corner of the dimly lit restaurant, and you can barely think straight. Joel had spoiled you with the most expensive champagne, far more appetizers than two people could possibly eat and a main course of delectable pasta on a plate bigger than your head. And of course, he looked devilishly handsome the whole night, and he knows it too, smirking and looking at you like he’s about to pounce across the table and devour you. Now you sat there with a full belly, but you were still hungry for revenge. 

“What’d your coworkers say? When they saw you got promoted” Joel asks as he pours you both another glass of champagne. You furrow your brows at his question, so far away from even thinking of that whole situation at work and so turned on that you almost completely forgot about the reason why you’re even here right now. 

You look up at his face, forcing yourself to peel your eyes away from the muscles bulging underneath his shirt as he sets the bottle back down. He has that knowing look in his eyes when you find them, his signature smirk thinly veiled with a sweet smile. 

Without even trying to answer his question, you slide down slightly in your chair. He watches curiously as you shift in your seat for a few seconds. Just as he opens his mouth to ask you what you’re doing, your warm foot presses against the crotch of his pants. 

He freezes in place. His hand visibly tightens around the stem of his champagne glass, and you can see the muscles in his jaw twitching. You fully expect him to push your foot back to the ground, but he doesn’t. Instead, he just leans back in his chair and spreads his knees giving you more room to work. He tilts his head and stares at you, a smirk creeping up on his lips when he sees the devious twinkle in your eye. 

You look back with a smirk to match and experimentally wiggle your toes against him. Your heart pounds in your chest when he narrows his eyes at you and slowly moves his hand beneath the tablecloth. You stop wiggling your toes when he wraps his hand around your ankle, the heat radiating from his palm to your skin like a hot iron through the thin material of your stocking. 

“Think about it, angel” he warns quietly. There’s a brief pause, where you pretend to weigh the risks and rewards, trying to decide whether to be good or bad. But your mind was made up before you even left the house. 

After a few seconds, you smirk back at him and press the ball of your stockinged foot against him. Joel chuckles and leans back in his chair again, watching you amusedly. He doesn't move, barely even flinches when you press a little harder against him and it’s infuriating. It's completely unfair how he’s able to literally bring you to your knees with a single touch but remains completely composed when you touch him. 

But what you don’t see is his heart hammering in his chest or the sweat starting to prickle the back of his neck. Truthfully, he had been just as turned on as you this whole time. Actually, he could feel the heat stirring the second that you told him about your promotion. 

He was barely able to hold back when he was picking out your lingerie for the night. He had to take a break in the closet, leaning against the dresser as he took a couple of deep breaths to try and calm himself down.

And when he started dressing you, he could’ve come right there in his boxers at the sight of the garter belt sliding up your waist.  Then the ride over here, the smell of your perfume mixing perfectly with his cologne in the cab of his truck, his head going fuzzy at the scent that seeped into the fabric of his seats, a reminder of you that’ll stick around for a few days. 

And now with your foot covered in the delicate mesh of the stockings that he dressed you in pressing deliciously against his aching cock, he’s rapidly losing his self-control. 

But Joel is just as stubborn as you, not willing to give in so easily. 

So, he bites his tongue and suppresses any noise and tenses his muscles trying not to flinch. Because seeing you get frustrated like this was just turning him on even more. He’s about to say something but you see the waiter coming up behind him and immediately move your foot back to the floor and sit up straight. 

Joel exhales heavily, releasing all the tension he was holding. He doesn’t even hear what the waiter says, too busy admiring the flustered look on your face and the slight shake in your voice as you talk to the waiter. 

The waiter leaves after a few moments and you face Joel again with a mix between a pout and a glare. 

“What was the plan there?”  Joel asks, cocking his head to the side in mock curiosity while he secretly prays that his voice doesn’t crack. 

You don’t respond, just keep glaring at him as you shove your foot back into the shoe. 

“You were being so good, what happened?” Joel presses, each word drenched with sarcastic concern. He watches delightedly as you huff and cross your arms over your chest. 

“S’okay, baby” Joel says, his voice dropping half an octave. Your stomach flutters with excitement.

 This is exactly how Joel starts off every proposition and you can’t wait to see what he wants you to do next. 

Joel pauses and looks at you with an evil glint in his eye. You should’ve seen this coming from miles away. But it still slaps you in the face when he says it. 

“I want you to slip a hand under that pretty dress and touch yourself. Right here, right now.” Joel says so quietly that you barely hear him. 

Your breath gets caught around the lump in your throat and Joel just smiles at you. 

“Go on, baby. Since you’re so needy and set on bein’ bad” Joel encourages after a few seconds of you not moving. “Or we can get the paddle out when we get home?”

The threat of paddle was more than enough.

You glance around to see if anyone can see you like this. No one was sitting near you though, the booth you’re in provides a decent amount of privacy and all direct lines of sight to you are clear. With a gulp and shift down in your seat again and your pussy throbs, pathetically turned on as you slide your hand under the tablecloth and up your dress. You move slowly to slide two fingers into the side of your thong, just like Joel did an hour earlier. 

It’s no shock how wet you are, the lace of your thong absolutely soaked, your whole cunt swollen and slick with it. Your eyes flit up to Joel’s and he gives you a small, encouraging nod.  

“You’re soaked for me, aren’t you angel?” Joel asks. His voice is so calm and steady that you almost stop and get up to walk over to his side of the table and strangle him. You’re so turned on you can barely breathe, and you’re pissed at him for it. It’s maddening how he has you so needy and desperate for him that you’re willing to touch yourself in publicwhile he just watches.

You give into your temptations easily, working quickly to soothe the aching need that spreads across every single inch of your skin. You glance around again, making sure no one is looking before you ease your middle finger into your dripping entrance, your eyelashes fluttering a bit as you curl your fingers and press up against your g-spot. 

Joel’s head is swimming as he watches you finger yourself right there in front of him in this restaurant. Any moment someone will pinch him and tell him to wake the fuck up because there’s no way in hell that this actually happening.

His head is foggy, turned on just as much as you are. His cock strains in his pants, tingles rushing down his spine as he stares at you, biting your lip, your eyes barely open and your eyebrows drawing together as you try to hold back soft moans. 

He wants more.

“Faster.” 

You snap your eyes open and look at him as if to ask if you heard him correctly. The look he gives you tells you that you absolutely did. 

Well, you’re not gonna say no to that. 

Your teeth sink deeper into your lip as you heed his orders and start pumping your finger faster. You’re painfully aware of any sounds you make, whether it’s a moan clawing its way up your throat or the slick sounds of your finger gliding through your folds, you try your best to keep it down. 

Joel of course isn’t any help. 

“Don’t be too loud, baby.” Joel whispers before taking a large swig of champagne. “Wouldn’t want ya to embarrass yourself” 

You shoot daggers at him over the dinner table, but you don’t slow down. And now he’s stumped because does he punish you for being bad, playing footsies under the table with him and fingering yourself in public or should he praise you for being a good girl and listening to him. 

“Baby,” Joel starts, his voice tight in his throat. “Show me, I want to see.” 

To his surprise, you obey easily enough and slide your finger out from under your dress. You bring your hand out from under the tablecloth to present to Joel. His adam’s apple bob in his throat, swallowing thickly at the sight of your middle finger absolutely coated in your wetness, some of it glistening on your palm as well.  He nearly loses it when you spread your fingers apart, thin strings of your arousal stretching between your digits. 

“Fuck” Joel hisses. There’s a tingle of delight in your stomach as you watch him shift in his chair, finally starting to visibly crack. 

He doesn’t say anything else, just reaches into the inner pocket of his jacket to grab his wallet. He hastily pulls out more than enough cash and nearly slams it on the table before standing up. 

“C’mon” Joel commands firmly, extending his hand out to you. You blink at him, not moving a muscle otherwise. You don’t know why, something innate inside you when you’re around him, but even when you're inches away from an orgasm you still find room to be bratty. 

“And what if I wanted dessert?” 

Joel’s jaw clenches as he grinds his teeth together, the tendons in his neck pressing against his skin and you have to bite the inside of your cheek to stop the smirk forming on your face

“Angel,” Joel huffs. “Get up right now and I’ll give you anything you want.” 

That’s all it takes. Joel shakes his head when you immediately grab his hand and pull yourself to stand up. 

“Such a fuckin’ brat” Joel mumbles as he wraps an arm around you, pulling you into his side. He practically drags you out of the restaurant, his grip tight on your waist and your heels clicking on the asphalt as you trot next to him to keep up with his long strides as he speeds back to the truck. 

Ever the gentleman, he opens the passenger door for you, keeping his eyes glued to your body as you climb inside. With you safely inside, he slams the door shut, the sound of your heavy breathing fills the otherwise silent cab of the truck as you watch him walk over to the driver’s side. 

You wait a few moments to see if he’ll say anything, but he just stares straight ahead, the muscles in his jaw flexing subtly like he’s chewing over what he’s going to say next as he shoves the key into the ignition. 

He backs out of the parking spot and leaves the parking lot without saying a single word. Meanwhile, you’re a mess sitting next to him, 

You manage to keep your mouth shut for one whole minute. 

“I was just following your instructions” you mumble, crossing your arms over your chest with an exaggerated pout. His jaw shifts to the side but he doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t even look at you. 

You sigh dramatically and glance sideways at him to see if he’s looking. But he keeps staring straight ahead. There’s a small part of you that realizes that this is probably all part of his grand plan to drive you up the wall, work you up until you can’t take it anymore. But there’s a much larger part of you that desperately wants his attention. 

“And isn’t this my treat anyway? Shouldn’t I be getting what I want?” you press, dipping into dangerous territory just to try and get a reaction out of him. 

Still nothing. 

The thought of slipping your hand under your dress again crosses your mind, but his earlier threat of the paddle quickly extinguishes it. 

All you can do is sit there with a pout etched into your face and ride the rest of the home in silence. 

You’re about to explode when he pulls into the driveway. He slides out of his seat and strides over to your side and opens the door. The fire in his eyes burns fiercely as you take your sweet time climbing out. He slams the door shut behind you as soon as you’re out and turns on his heel and quickly makes his way to the door. You groan and actually stamp your foot in frustration. It’s just not fair. 

You stomp towards the door, arms still crossed over your chest. 

“You said you’d give me anything I want” you call after him, recalling his words from earlier as you make your way inside. 

You barely make it through the door before he’s pushing you against it, using his whole body to keep you pinned in place. Your breath catches in your throat and your knees weaken instantly, all of your resolve immediately crumbling around your feet. 

He has one hand on your waist while he braces himself with the other one on the wall next to your head. His face is inches from yours and you can smell the sweet champagne on his breath and the cologne on his skin. His eyes flit from yours to your lips, his pupils blown so wide that there’s just a sliver of brown around them 

“I said if you were good” he hisses, his voice dangerously low. “What you pulled back there? That was bad, baby. Real bad.”

“You’re the one who told me to finger my-” 

Joel’s hand flies from your waist to your throat, his broad palm pressing against your windpipe while he squeezes either side of your neck with his thumb and fingers. Heat surges down your spine and settles in your lower abdomen, your aching sex throbbing pathetically in response. 

“Don’t you try to fuckin’ spin this on me, sweetheart” Joel snarls. 

Maybe he meant to strike fear in you, maybe try to teach you a lesson. But it’s exactly what you want. Joel knows it too – you can tell by the slight smirk that tugs at the corner of his lips in response to your small, breathless gasp. 

“Was just trying to be nice to you” he starts, his voice so low at the point you doubt you’d be able to hear him from any further away. “Try to take you out to a nice restaurant to celebrate and that’s how you repay me? Playin’ with me like that under the table and then actin’ like a spoiled brat all the way home?” 

You both know he’s playing up his part. These were all minor infractions at best. Both of you knew that. You had been in this position for much, much worse behavior. But Joel isn’t dumb, and he’s well aware of what you want - to be tossed around a little, roughened up and broken down until you’re a squirming mess.  And who is he to deny you of that?

You chew on your lip before muttering a small “M’sorry daddy” 

Joel’s eyes narrow even more, the hand on your throat tightening slightly as your carefully chosen words have the exact intended effects on him.

“No, you ain’t” Joel growls. “But you will be. Get on your fuckin’ knees.”

He drops the hand from your throat and takes a step back. You exhale the breath you were holding, and you stare at him as his hands fall to his belt. Just the thought of having him in your mouth has you nearly drooling. 

But you’re not done yet.

“No” you say plainly, crossing your arms over your chest once again. 

Joel’s hands freeze on his belt, his eyes burning holes into you as you stare right back, not moving an inch from where you’re standing. 

He raises one eyebrow slightly as if to say I hope I didn’t hear what I just heard but you remain silent and motionless. After a few long moments of complete silence, Joel chuckles softly, his hands falling to his sides in defeat. He gives you one more look and then shakes his head before turning around and heading towards the bedroom.

You’re about to call after him, ask him where he’s going, but his earlier threat of the paddle floats through your mind once again. That has you panicking nearly instantly. 

You watch in disbelief as he disappears up the stairs. Your legs feel as though they’re stuck in wet concrete, and it takes a few seconds to coordinate your mind and body to get you to move. You scamper after him, a cold sweat tingling on the back of your neck as you head towards the bedroom. 

He’s sitting on the edge of the bed when you walk in, in the middle of untying his shoes. You stand in front of him, arms behind your back and patiently wait for him to toe his shoes off. 

He kicks them to the side then looks up at you with a heavy sigh, like your behavior is causing him physical pain. You offer him a meek smile as he rests his palms behind him on the mattress and leans back, his eyes raking over your body as he does so. 

He doesn’t say anything, which you take as an invitation. 

You move to climb into his lap. He doesn’t reprimand you, but he doesn’t move to hold you either. 

You sit on your knees, your legs straddling his. You can feel him through his pants and your soaked panties, still hard as diamonds. That’s a good sign at least. 

“M’sorry, daddy” you say again, much more sincerely this time. You bring your hands up to fiddle with the collar of his shirt, avoiding his eyes as you wait for a response that never comes. 

“Just wanted to play” you confess quietly. Joel still doesn't say anything, but his eyes follow your hands as you start toying with the buttons of his shirt. 

“And you just looked so handsome tonight” you continue, undoing the first button. You wait again. Still no response. 

“Thank you for taking me out” you say as you undo the next button. 

“And for dressing me up” 

Another button. 

“Making me feel so beautiful” 

And another. 

You undo the last button then push away both sides so that his whole torso is on display for you. You stare for a second, fixated on the steady rise and fall of his broad chest, the soft curve of his tummy, and the trail of hair disappearing under the waistband of his pants.

He remains silent still as you place your hands on his abdomen and slowly slide them up to his shoulders before crossing your arms behind his neck. Finally, you drag your eyes up and look at him through your lashes. His gaze is soft and much warmer than you were expecting. 

“Promise I’ll be good.” you say, barely above a whisper. 

He gives you a half smile and brings a hand up to cup your cheek, his thumb rubbing across your bottom lip. 

“You want daddy to make you feel good? Want me to fuck you til you fuckin’ stupid” Joel asks, tilting his head to the side acting like he doesn’t know the answer. 

You nod vigorously and poke your tongue out to lick at the tip of his thumb, just for good measure. 

“Thought so” Joel says as he pushes his thumb past your lips. You suck on it eagerly and let him press down on your tongue, your clit twitching with desperate need. 

“Then why don’t you show daddy how sorry you are, and I might reconsider gettin’ the paddle out.” 

You immediately pull off his thumb and sink to your knees without any further instruction. You reach for his belt, deft fingers unbuckling the belt that you’ve undone so many times before, his button and zipper following soon after. 

He stops you there and moves to stand up. You sit back on your knees with your hands on your thighs and watch as he quickly shucks off his shirt, tossing it somewhere behind him. You chew on your lip as he pulls down the waistband of his pants and boxers, his cock bobbing heavily as he steps out of them. 

Your completely transfixed by it, the veins running along the length, the redden head and the drops of precum leaking from the slit. You don’t even realize you’re staring until he slides a finger under your chin, tilting your head up to look at him. 

“Turn around” he instructs simply. 

You have no reason to disobey at this point, so you do as you’re told, turning in the small space between Joel’s leg and the edge of the bed. He takes another step forward, backing you up into the side of the mattress. 

“S’this what you wanted, baby?” he coos as he wraps a hand around himself. 

“Yes, daddy. Always want it” you respond. You look up at him through your lashes, batting them for added effect. 

“Yeah, I know you do” he rasps, taking another small step forward. He rests the head of his cock on your bottom lip, smearing precum. You dart your tongue out to lick it up. 

He drags the tip of his cock from your lips to your cheek, smearing more precum on your skin and giving you a few light smacks for good measure. 

It’s degrading, and should be humiliating, but it just makes your head spin, the fire in your stomach rapidly growing as you open your mouth for him, giving him silent permission to use you however he pleases. 

He groans softly as he pushes past your lips, sinking into the wet heat of your mouth. He’s only halfway in when you gag around him, tears already pricking at your waterline. 

“Oh, you know you can take it deeper than that, angel” 

He places both hands on the back of your head, gently forcing you down the rest of his length. You let him, focusing on breathing through your nose as rolls his hips forward until he’s buried in your throat. You gag again once he’s all the way in, but he keeps your head in place, holding you there for a few more seconds, groaning as your throat convulses around him 

“Yeah, that’s it, baby. Got that throat fuckin’ trained” 

He pulls out, allows you to take a gulp of air before he’s shoving back in again. His hips quickly settle into a steady rhythm, his cock nudging the back of your throat with every thrust. You brace yourself with one hand on his thigh and you can feel the muscles working under your palm. 

“Spoiled little brat just needed daddy to fuck her throat, huh?” 

You hum around him in response, reveling in the feeling of his cock twitching against your tongue. He continues to fuck your face, completely unconcerned with the tears rolling down your cheeks and the spit leaking out of the corners of your mouth. He moves one hand from your head to your throat, his palm splaying across your windpipe. He tightens his grip just slightly, pushing against the bulge of his head buried deep in your throat. 

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, thrusting in all the way and staying there. “Love feelin’ myself in that tight little throat” 

The fire in your tummy burns with blinding heat at his praise. A dull ache starts to settle in your jaw as salvia slides down your chin and neck, more hot tears spilling over your lash line as you squeeze your eyes shut and try your best not to gag. 

“Take it so well” Joel pants as he starts to rock his hips again. “Fuckin’ made to take my cock.” 

The lack of air already has you feeling dizzy, and his words are only adding to the feeling. He’s not wrong –with him fucking your face like this, a strong hand on your head and the other wrapped firmly around your throat, it feels like your sole purpose in life is to please him, to be a toy he can use to make himself feel good. And you fucking love it. 

After one more strong thrust, he pulls out of your mouth completely. His cock is dripping with your saliva, a string of it connecting his head to your swollen lips. 

“Look at you” Joel coos. You look up at him through wet lashes. 

“Bein’ so good for me.” 

He moves his hand on your throat to your cheek, cupping your jaw as he wipes some of the tears away with his thumb. He then rubs it over your wet, glossy lips, and you already know what he wants next.

“Open” he commands gently, his thumb tugging down on your bottom lip. 

You obey immediately, your jaw hanging open and a smile pulls at the corner of your lips. You watch hungrily as he gathers the salvia in his mouth before he bends down slightly. He lets it drip into your awaiting mouth and you hum happily as the liquid hits your tongue. 

“Good fuckin’ girl” he rasps before spitting again, this time with more force. A small moan finds its way out of you as you keep your mouth open and let the warm liquid pool on your tongue until he gives you further directions. 

“Swallow it.” 

You do so happily, and he hums in approval before standing up straight again. He grabs his cock and guides it to your lips again. He allows you to take one deep breath before he’s pushing in again, his fingers now digging into your jaw, his other hand back on your head as he guides your movements. 

“Such a slut for it, aren’t ya?”

You nod the best you can with his cock filling your mouth. He holds you steady, giving a few well-measured thrusts down your throat before pulling out again, leaving you coughing mess below him. He looks at you lovingly as you gasp and try to catch your breath, your lips cherry red, matching the color of the rims of your eyes.

“Doin’ okay?” he asks, voice soft and gentle. 

You nod again and give him a dazed smile before wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. 

“Good girl. Now stand up.” 

Joel reaches out to hold your arm as you pull yourself to stand on weak legs, your knees tight and sore from kneeling on the floor. But you couldn’t care less.

He uses both hands to hike up the hem of your dress, making quick work of lifting it up and over your head. He quickly discards it to a forgotten corner of the room before planting a wide, calloused palm square on your chest and pushing you down onto the mattress.

You land on flat on your back against plush mattress, your legs dangling off the edge. Joel reaches for a pillow, and you lift your head so he can slide it underneath. Your skin buzzes as you watch him take his place, standing at the edge of the bed between your legs. 

“So fucking pretty” Joel mutters as he smooths a hand down your front from the hollow of your throat to the tops of your thighs, leaving goosebumps in his wake. He plucks at one of the black satin garter straps, letting it snap against your skin. It barely stings and you giggle and wiggle your hips in pure excitement. 

Your hungry eyes rake down his body before settling on his cock again, shiny from your spit as it bobs heavily between his legs. 

He starts working on undoing the clasps of the straps without preamble, letting you know that he’s not in the mood to take things slow, which you appreciate greatly. 

He has all four straps undone in a matter of seconds and tugs at the belt. You lift your hips, helping him to slide it down your hips and legs. The speed and carelessness he exerts as he pulls the fabric off your body is a stark contrast from how concentrated he was while dressing you in it just a few hours ago. 

With the belt out the way, he cups your pussy in his hand. The heel of his hand presses against your swollen clit through the delicate fabric of your thong, his fingers pressing firmly against the damp spot that’s been there since before you left the house. 

You whine, a high-pitched sound from the back of your throat. Joels eyes flick up from between your legs to your face, a wicked smirk curling on his lips. 

“Such a needy little pussy” he says darkly, pressing his hand further against your core. You roll your hips up and grind against his hand, chasing after the friction you’ve been craving all evening. 

But he immediately removes his hand and gives you firm smack instead. You yelp at the sensation, your clit tingling and pulsing. 

“Wanna hear you beg for it.” 

He drags his fingertips along on the edges of your panties, his touch featherlight and torturously slow. There’s a small part of you that wants to say no, that wants to argue with him, push him further, just to see what would happen. 

But you’re 10 levels above desperate for his touch. 

“Please daddy, w-want it so bad” 

Joel clicks his tongue and lands another light slap to your clothed pussy. You bite back another yelp and will your hips to stay still. 

“You know you can do better than that. Try again, tell daddy exactly what you want” 

You squeeze your eyes shut, well beyond frustrated at this point. You suck in a deep, steadying breath and exhale is slowly before opening your eyes again to meet his gaze. His eyes are dark, and his jaw is tight as he looks back at you. 

“Want you to fuck me, want you so deep inside me that I can barely breathe, want you to be rough with me, make sure I can feel it for days, please daddy please. I promise I’ll be good, just – please I ne-” 

You cut yourself off when Joel digs his fingers into the lace of your thong, the sound of tearing fabric hitting your ears as he rips it off of you. 

“Joel!” you shout, sitting up on your elbows to look at him. 

He doesn't say anything, just grabs your hips and pulls you closer to the edge of the bed. But you’re still stuck on the fact that he just casually ripped off your panties like that. 

“Thought those were your favorite pair” you mumble, looking at the discarded fabric sitting on the bed. 

“Shut up” Joel grunts as he wraps a hand around the base of his cock, steadying himself and lining up at your dripping entrance. “I’ll buy you more.” 

You’re about to say something back, but he slides in before as soon as you open your mouth, effectively taking your breath away. 

The stretch of his thick cock inside you as he sinks in all the way in one smooth motion is enough to wipe your brain clean. 

He stays still once he’s inside, his tip kissing your cervix. He curses under his breath as your walls spasm around him, already milking him for all that he’s worth.

“Always so fuckin’ tight for me. Perfect little pussy.”  

You let him maneuver you into position, one of his hands cupping the back of your knee, lifting your leg up to rest on his shoulder, both of you sighing as the angle pushes him just a bit deeper. He brings your other leg up but keeps it pinned to the bed with a strong hand on your thigh, leaving you spread open just for him. 

Without warning, he draws his hips back, sliding nearly all the way out before slamming back in. 

You cry out, your hands scrambling for purchase on the duvet. You’ve taken him countless times before. But he’s big. And no matter how wet or turned on you are, without opening you up first on his fingers, your walls are aching and tingling as he forces your body to mold to his. 

And it’s exactly what you asked for. 

He grinds his pelvis against your clit, his cock bumping into a spot that’s impossibly deep inside of you. You jolt at the sensation and reflexively try to scoot up the bed, your already overwhelmed body trying to get away from the intense feeling. 

“Oh, don’t run from it now” Joel growls, grabbing one of your hips and forcing you back down on his cock. “Begged for it all night, so I’m gonna fuckin’ give it to ya” 

“S-so much daddy, you’re so– oh fuck. You’re so fucking big” You whimper pathetically, your hands gripping the duvet so tight that your nails are digging into your palms even through the barrier of the fabric. 

“I know it’s a lot, angel. But you can take it,” Joel pants. “Can’t you?” 

You nod lazily against the pillow as he pulls out again.

“What’s your safeword” he asks, the head of his cock resting just a few inches inside of you, providing you with enough relief to answer. 

“Red” you whine. 

“Good girl. Do you wanna use it?” 

You immediately shake your head

“No.” 

“That’s my girl” Joel growls before slamming back in again, knocking the air straight out of your lungs. Your back arches with the feeling as he quickly builds up his pace. 

He fucks into you like it’s his last day on earth, fast and rough, just like you begged for. Just like he knows you need. Your whole body feels electrified while moans tumble freely past your lips, your eyes rolling back into your head. 

With your eyes closed, you don’t see it, but you do feel Joel’s lips pressing against your ankle that’s resting on his shoulder, lips warm and wet through the sheer fabric of the stocking that he never took off. 

“Little pussy is takin’ me so well, angel” Joel mumbles against your ankle “Feel so good wrapped around me, squeezing me like that” 

He starts a trail of kisses from your ankle to your knee, his hips not faltering in pace, not even once. The last of the stinging ache melts away as your walls stretch to fully accommodate him. He has an iron grip on your ankle, and his fingers on his other hand dig into the meat of your thigh, creating small purple marks under the smooth skin. The hot coil in your stomach is starting to tighten as you moan incessantly. And of course, Joel notices. 

“Get those tits out, angel.” 

You whimper underneath him and try your best to follow his instructions. Your arms feel like cinder blocks as you unclench your fists from the duvet and move your hands to your chest. You grab the cups of your bralette and tug them down, letting your breast spill out over the tops. 

Joel gives you a few words of praise that you can’t fully process. You already feel delirious, his cock quickly turning you into a useless, needy puddle underneath him. 

“Play with ‘em for me.” 

You do as your told and cup your breasts, one in each hand before gently tweaking your nipples with your thumb and forefinger. Joel gives you more indistinguishable praise as you let your eyes slip closed again, completely surrendering to the pleasure coursing through your veins. 

The hand that Joel has wrapped around your ankle slides down to the back of your thigh, pushing on your leg and forcing your knee into your chest and sending his cock even deeper. 

“Ohhh, daddy shit fuckfuckfuckk” you whine as the head of his cock nudges against the spot that only he has ever found over and over again, the same spot he finds every single time. 

“There ya go” he whispers as you start to squirm underneath him, your jaw slack and your walls fluttering around him.  “You gonna cum, pretty girl? Gonna make a mess on daddy’s cock?” 

You nod vigorously but you already know he wants more than that. 

“Want–” you try to start, but Joel’s hand landing on your clit steals your breath, a loud moan coming out instead. 

“C’mon, baby. Keep goin” Joel urges breathlessly, two of his fingers rubbing tight circles on your clit. “Sound so pretty when you beg. Look at me while you do it.” 

You groan and open your eyes again to meet his gaze. His chest is heaving with every breath, muscles flexing deliciously as he fucks you with everything that he has, pounding you further and further into the mattress. 

“Please let me cum daddy, M’so close –ah oh my god please let me cum please please please let me.” 

“You can cum, angel. Keep those eyes on me and show me how pretty you look when you cum on this cock” 

It’s only a few more seconds of him pummeling into you and his fingers drawing expert circles on your clit to send you over the edge.

You lock eyes with him and let out a long, loud moan as your orgasm starts to rip through you, your whole body trembling with pure, white hot bliss. He fucks you through it, on the heels of his own release as you shake underneath him, your warm, wet walls rhythmically clenching and fluttering so perfectly around him. 

“Gonna make me cum, honey” Joel grits out, his pace getting more and more uneven. 

“Inside” you manage to whine, still riding out the last of your orgasm. 

“Yeah, baby, I know. Gonna fill you up so good” 

One, two, three more thrusts until you feel his cock pulsing as he starts to spill his load deep inside of you with a loud groan from somewhere deep in his chest. He keeps fucking you, pushing his spend deeper and deeper inside of you until he he’s too sensitive to continue. He buries himself in you as deep as he can and stills. 

After a few moments, Joel straightens your legs out on the mattress then pulls out of you, moving off of you and flopping down flat on his back next to you with a heavy sigh.

Labored breaths are the only sound in the room as you both come down. You whole body feels like jell-o, all thoughts moving slowly through your syrupy head. You can’t help but giggle next to him, feeling positively euphoric after getting your brains fucked out of your skull. 

Joel turns his head to look at you. 

“What’re you laughin’ at?” he asks, a smile quickly spreading on his face. He rolls onto his side and props his head up on his hand. He wraps his other arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him, despite you being dead weight right now. 

You look up at him, eyes hooded with a lazy smile. You try to think of something to say but all you can manage is another giggle, which makes Joel chuckle too. 

“You’re such a goose” he says, leaning down to kiss your forehead. 

“Thought I was a spoiled little brat?” 

Joel rolls his eyes and rests his cheek on his hand again, his smile still glued to his face. 

“Those aren’t mutually exclusive.” 

“So, I’m a spoiled little bratty goose?” 

“Mhmm.” 

You grin and scoot closer into him. 

“That sounds like a lot to handle” 

You squeal when he pinches your hip. 

“Tell me about it,” Joel sighs, lying his head down on the mattress and wrapping his body around yours. You smile like an idiot with your face squished against his chest, fully satisfied once again. 

Thank god you got that promotion. 

Thank you for reading I love all sm!!!

[polarisjisung]

LOVE ON THE COURT | 12 BIRTHDAY PARTY

SYNOPSIS | every college student has their struggles, but raising her younger brother has Y/N top of the list, struggling her way through college whilst balancing her academics and basketball captaincy is difficult no doubt and with Jaemin, her ex best friend and captain of the guys basketball team, and his growing one sided hatred towards her, it doesn't seem to be getting any easier

WARNINGS | swearing, sexual innuendos, kys/kms jokes, friendship jealousy?, a very brief mention of some guy hitting on y/n + spiking of drinks but I didn't want to go into too much detail so it's not a very in depth description or anything

NOTES | I so badly wanted to write this chapter better but it just hasn't been working for me, I think I've reached my wits end with this chapter and this is the best I could do which honestly I'm really disappointed with it, but I want to get back to regular posting and I don't think I can rewrite this chapter again after going in circles with it for the past week so I'm sorry if it's not v good

Jaemin's happy, spending his birthday night with the people he cares for most, having a good time. It helps him forget, the struggles the worries, the events of the past week. He forgets it all. And even if just for a moment, jaemin feels free, like nothing could stop him.

It's not a feeling that lasts long, and as the sound of sweet laughter echoes in his ears, despite the blaring music, jaemin reminds himself that he doesn't have the right to feel so happy after what he'd done. Or at least he thinks so.

Y/n's laugh is quiet but he hears every part of it intricately, his head shooting over to the left where she's a few drinks deep into a conversation with Mark and Haechan. His heart thumps in his chest. Jaemin follows Chenle and Renjun's eager eyes, watching the way they navigate through the crowd to join the conversation. His palms are sweaty, clammy even, and the bile almost rises to his throat, resting in that uncomfortable position that made him shift his weight from one foot to the other. The events of the other day seem to play in his head, on loop, on repeat, at every sight of the girl. The bitter feeling causes his hands to shake, almost eating hik alive. How could he have done that?

A lump in his throat, jaemin can't help but remember the days, those days where he knew everything there was to know about the girl across the room. The days where y/n was deeply integrated into the mix of the 6 other rowdy, loud and messy but sweet boys he called his best friends. Those days that were long gone. Relationships that could never be restored taken with it. Those days when nights like these, like today, would be nothing but a distant nightmare.

Y/n was dressed to the nines in a pretty red dress that she'd never have worn before, with features so different, a sign of the time that had passed, Jaemin swore he barely knew the girl he saw in front of him.

But for a flash of a second Jaemin does see someone he recognises. He sees y/n. His y/n.

The y/n with slightly shorter hair, softer features, happier eyes and a brighter smile. The carefree y/n, the y/n who fit to a T the memories he stored in his mind. The y/n who would never have done what she had to him.

He had given his best shot to forgetting those exact memories but they were vivid recollections that would never escape his mind no matter how hard he tried. Today for the first time in 3 years Jaemin had let himself look back fondly on what they had once been. He wondered where it all went wrong, what he had done wrong back then for it to end like this.

Jaemin sighs, pulling his hand back from the open bar and taking just a few steps back to observe. Haechan seems to have cracked a joke. From afar it seems like one of those things that gets funnier as each person adds, and soon he notices the four of his friends doubled over in laughter, grasping each other for support and laughing to their hearts content. Something about that site in front of him makes it feel as though time hadn't changed a thing, their bond still as unbreakable and robust as before, a bond that ran beyond verbal description and light sentiment, it was a deep rooted bonding of their souls.

He felt jealous.

Jaemin, for as long as he let his eyes play the scene in front of him, felt sickeningly jealous.

He wanted nothing more than to have his friendship with her to be untouched, the bond he had with his best friend, that had been stronger than any other, he wanted it back as though nothing had hapenned and nothing had gone wrong in the first place.

His stomach churns with nausea, and jaemin subconsciously steps further away from the makeshift bar, watching Y/n closely.

Her mannerisms had changed, no longer that same rough reflection of his own habits, but a distinct and sharp contrast. There's no scrunch of her nose or reeling back when she tips back a shot, no hesitance to get herself another drink without tugging someone along with her

No sign of the girl he once knew inside out, other than a few vaguely familiar facial features.

Jaemin's too occupied in his thoughts to notice how his friends now begin to pile into the other room, setting up for beer pong, hell jaemin barely notices when Jeno invites him over to play, with a pat on his back and a smile on his face.

His eyes instead find themselves glued to the captain across the room. Where she was stood at least, because once Jaemin shakes himself from his thoughts and his blank stare grows fuller, he realises that y/n isn't anywhere to be seen.

He knows for a fact that she wasn't in the other room, crowding around the table and cheering for whoever she decided she'd be supporting. Instead, his eyes shoot over to the kitchen, and his legs follow. A concerned Isa scurrying out of the kitchen, only giving him reason to trust his gut.

The sound of slurred conversation fills his ears and suddenly he finds himself walking a little quicker. Intuition was always his strong suit and the churning in the pit of his stomach made him gulp.

"I'm really not interested" he hears y/n's voice, slightly muffled as he enters the kitchen, stood in the doorway to see some guy, he's not really sure who, stood towering in front of her

"oh come on, I make the best drinks" he says, holding out a red solo cup in front of her.

Y/n rolls her eyes. Nobody presses for a drink that much unless they're up to something. She knows that despite being a few too many shots into the night. And she certainly knows better than to accept a drink off a stranger.

In moments like this, she assumes violence isn't the answer — she knew she lacked the coordination to even walk in a straight line right now. So she gladly accepts the drink, taking it in her hands and swirling it about in the cup. Although the urge to splash it in his face was strong, Y/n knew getting out of the situation wasn't that simple. But she didn't exactly have many ideas now either.

"So what's in this mystery drink of yours?" she asks with a sickeningly sweet tone, trying to buy herself time. There was no way she was drinking this, especially not considering this guy had been hitting on her for the past 5 minutes

Her eyes dart across the room, searching for any sign of a way out of the situation, her eyes finally landing on the doorway. Y/n had never felt so relieved at the sight of Jaemin, certainly not in recent times.

It took less than a second before he was already taking a stride towards her

"Hey y/n" he smiles, walking over and placing his arm over her shoulder. Jaemin feels her body tense under his hold, his faux smile almost dropping at the realisation.

But he has no time to take offence, grabbing the cup from her hands "I could use a drink." he says despite the fact that right now, even the mention of alcohol had his stomach churning. Paired with the blaring music and the crowd of people, the nausea was overpowering.

But the second his eyes land on her, he feels a sense of ease, just like the old times. And for the second time that night jaemin can't help but think where it had all gone wrong, where they had gone wrong.

He wants to stand and ponder whether this grudge he'd been holding against her for years was really worth the loss of the most treasured relationship he knew. But the amused stare of the creep opposite him gives jaemin no room to think, in fact he barely has the room to breathe with how close he is.

That sick smirk on his face, jaemin wants nothing more than to knock his jaw in and his teeth out. If it weren't for y/n beside him, jaemin probably would.

But the brunette only gets a quick glare from jaemin before he guides Y/n out of the kitchen with him. His arm only falling back down to his side when they were in the hallway.

"Thanks" she mutters out, and it's clear to jaemin that she's far from sober, even clearer when she takes a shaky step forwards.

"Woah" it's instinctive the way he reaches for her arm, steadying her in his hold. "Let me help you"

But she pulls her arm back.

"You really don't need to be nice to me because of what hapenned the other day" she sighs, leaning against the wall behind her. "I'm over it, honestly" she says, her hands held up either side of her head. But her eyes remain latched ontot he floor.

"That's not why I'm‐" his words are cut off again, this time by his own thoughts. His muscles tensed and jaemin had no idea why, but her words didn't seem to sit right with him.

"Look I appreciate it" she pauses, "but it feels awkward, you're not supposed to help me, it's just not what you do" she says, shrugging

The feeling inside him grows as each word passes her lips. His throat tightening.

Jaemin feels a sudden sense of urgency overcome him, the need to defend himself profound.

"Come on peach, I wouldn't let some creep get away with that no matter what, especially not with you"

His voice comes as a soft whisper, rushed, but gentle.

Jaemin for the first time had spoken before he could think, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts, barely able to process his own words. He wants to say more, but he can't, like his tongue is tied as he waits for a response.

He searches for any sign of belief in her face, any sign of trust, anything he could work with, he'd take.

"I'm sorry" he musters up the courage to say, though he's not sure what it is he apologises for. All he hopes is that he'll see something, anything.

But the blank expression that laid across her features was far from what he was looking for.

Her lips lay flat in a straight line, her eyes latched onto the floor, expression stoic. He wanted her to scream, shout, kick, do anything. Jaemin as ever before, just wanted to get a reaction out of the girl, the slip of the once endearing nickname from his lips no mistake.

"Say something" he bends down ever so slightly, now eye level with her slouched figure "please" his speech is breathy, desperate almost. He doesn't care.

For the first time, jaemin knows what he wants. And though he's too scared to say it, jaemin finally admits to himself just how much y/n means to him. It seems a lot easier to do when she's by his side, like all things had when she was around. And the question arises once again, where had everything gone wrong? and perhaps more importantly, why had he let go of everything so easily?

The thoughts cloud his mind again, his eyes trained on the girl opposite him, her lips between her teeth.

Y/n felt silly, that stupid nickname causing tears to well up in her eyes, that nickname that she had never known to mean so much. Peach. She used to love when he called her that, now she wasn't so sure.

She holds his eyes in her own for a moment, not breaking the silence until a shaky breath falls from her lips.

"I should go" and her eyes return to the floor "Happy birthday jaemin."

prev | masterlist | next

TAGLIST (open): @jenobubbles @justalildumpling @nanawrlds @222brainrot @sungookie @pepperedthot @dinonuguaegi @haechansbbg @90s-belladonna @bath1lda @jeongintwt @daegalfangirl @ahnneyong @jammingjaem @paper-boats-rose @iraa567 @errrrrat @kyusqult @suzayaaa @jising-jisang-jisung @soonyoonswoo @nctrawberries @wonbin-truther @sunghoonsgfreal @lotties-readings @onlyhyunjin @swee7dream @girlz4jaem @beomgyusonlywife @nanaxwi @nosungluv @tommina @sinisxtea @20sdiary @otblous @p-d1ddy @lostinneocity @soobs-things @odxrilove @buns-inhiding @busy-daydreaming02 @starfilledgaze @papichulomacy @grassbutneo @iwilleatyourgod @jeeluv @mystverse @meowtella

[doumadono]

HEY, HI, HELLO!!!

Your one and only and favourite wolf girl here! I came to celebrate your big milestone and I'd NEVER say no to free ice creams!

So! I'd like some: raspberry ice cream with M&Ms and maple syrup in a cup! I'll eat those with my lovely wolf!Nanami!

On the other note!

Congratulations sweetheart! I am so proud of you! It's a big milestone and you deserve it because of everything you put into this blog and your works! Stay amazing and never change!

I send you all the love and kisses!

CONGRATULATIONS AGAIN!! 🎆🎆🎆🎉🎉🎊🎊

Warnings: smut w/o plot, creampie, female omega!reader, wolf hybrid - beta!Nanami, rough p in v, partial hybrid transformation, mating, dirty language, doggy style & missionary

Synopsis: you've been chosen as a mate by Kento Nanami, one of the most handsome betas in the pack, and he's going to have his ways with you - his shy little omega

A/N: myyyy babygirl! Thank you for sticking with me for over 8 years already, can you believe it?! Your request was challenging, but I really hope you'll like it ♥

5k FOLLOWERS EVENT MASTERLIST JUJUTSU KAISEN MASTERLIST

"I finally get to meet you," Nanami chuckled a little too darkly, his deep voice reverberating as his pointy, fluffy ears twitched. He shut the door behind him, locking eyes with you, his gaze darkened by desire. Dressed in a snug white t-shirt that highlighted his muscular chest and black jeans, he stood before you, his arms at his sides. Veins snaked up his forearms, accentuating his strength. 

You stood before him, completely mesmerized, feeling a familiar heat pulsating in your core. It was your first mating season, and you were chosen by one of the strongest betas in the pack, Kento Nanami. While he wasn't the alpha, many females were attracted to him, and now you understood why. He stood before you, tall and confident, his blonde bangs slightly messy but adding to his charm. He was so handsome and muscular, and you couldn't help but feel grateful that he chose someone like you, a mere omega.

"Are you a mute?" he joked, stepping closer to you. He'd noticed you checking him out. "Like what you see?" he teased, reaching out to brush a strand of hair off your blushing cheek.

"No... No, I'm not..." You closed the distance, captivated by the wild allure that radiated from him. "Who could resist such a tempting sight?" you replied, your voice breathless with anticipation as you looked up into his dark brown-greenish eyes.

Nanami's eyes darkened even more, his senses heightened by your proximity. "Careful," he warned, a smirk playing on his lips. "You're playing with fire, little wolfie."

You reached out, your fingers trailing along his muscular chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath pads of your fingers, even through the material of his t-shirt. "I've always enjoyed a little danger," you whispered, your voice dripping with desire. "But... Why me? You could have any other female, someone more beautiful…" you replied, your voice tinged with shyness.

He gently lifted your chin, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. "But I've been wanting you," he admitted. "Your scent has been driving me wild for weeks, if I'm honest. I love everything about you, little omega. The way your cheeks flush when you catch me staring, the way your lips part when you're watching me and others from afar. If you thought I didn't notice, you were mistaken," he said, leaning in to kiss your earlobe, his voice a soft whisper in your ear, "I just had to make you mine."

You parted your lips to speak, but words failed you.

He smiled at your attempt, catching a hint of your arousal with his heightened senses that kicked in. The corners of his muzzle curled up into a wry grin. "Well, well, you smell delicious, little omega." His body pressed close to yours, emanating incredible warmth. 

You let out a quiet gasp as he kissed just behind your ear, his lips trailing down your neck. 

His hands found your breasts, gently squeezing them through your shirt. As he continued to fondle them, he kissed and nibbled his way towards your soft mounds of flesh, sending shivers of pleasure through your body. 

Your breath hitched as he stopped at the middle of your cleavage, looking up at you with a seductive grin. He motioned for you to raise your hands, and with a swift movement, he removed your shirt. Then, with expert precision, he unclasped your bra and traced his flexed tongue from the middle of your breasts up to under your chin, before capturing your lips in a deep, passionate kiss. 

You squeaked in surprise, but he quickly silenced you with his invading tongue, his hands now cupping either side of your face.

"Mine," he growled lowly after breaking the kiss. He of course made sure to leave a trail of hickeys along the column of your neck.

You couldn't help but notice the massive bulge in his pants and a shiver of lustful anticipation ran through you as Kento took a step back to admire his work.

He slowly began to move towards you again, and instinctively, you backed up until you hit something firm behind you with your calves.

He leapt forward, pushing your shoulders and causing you to fall backward onto the mattress. 

You gasped at the impact, looking up at him easily towering over you with a mix of shyness, fear, and pure lust. 

He had removed his shirt, revealing a muscular chest with a trail of fluffy, blonde hair leading down from his navel and disappearing within his pants. He smirked, his hungry eyes surveying you, the bulge in his pants twitching with desire, making it all too obvious that he liked what he saw. Leaning over you, his strong hands placed on either side of your head for support, Kento kissed you again, rubbing his confined cock against the drenched fabric of your pants in your crotch, already soaked from your arousal that managed to drench your panties.

You moaned, feeling an ache deep inside you, longing to be filled by his cock, to submit completely to this male.

Sensing your desire, Nanami worked his way down, stopping at your breasts to suck on one nipple, flicking it with his tongue and lightly grazing it with his teeth.

"Oh!" Your back arched with pleasure, and you ground your crotch against his, the ache becoming almost unbearable as your mind was completely clouded with desire and lust. All you could think about was getting laid with him, right here, right now.

He pinched and sucked on your nipples, emitting a low growl as he ground his crotch against yours.

You heard Kento softly laugh as he stopped his actions, and you almost whined in protest. But your pout died on your lips when you saw him stand up, staring directly into your eyes as he began to undo his fly.

With a sharp movement, he yanked his pants and underwear down, revealing a monstrous cock standing proudly and begging for attention. Its reddened, uncircumcised head glistened with pre cum, and although it appeared to be only several inches in length, it was the girth that truly stunned you.

Free from his garments, Kento stood there, enjoying your reaction. It was clear that his little bitch wanted nothing more than to be stuffed full of his cock.

Reaching down, he skillfully removed your pants and panties in one smooth motion, revealing your sopping pussy - so wet that your own juices had lathered the inside of your thighs, glistening in a dim light casted by a moonlight falling into the room through a large window.

"You're fucking gorgeous," Nanami said peeling his eyes away from your glistening cunt to fix his gaze on your face.

The ache inside you was rising to a point where your breathing became sharper as you moved further toward the center of the bed.

"Shhhh, shhhh, relax," he whispered soothingly as he climbed onto the bed, his hard member trailing through the wetness you had left on the edge of the bedding. He closed his eyes, savoring the sensation as he licked his lips in appreciation. "Fuck. Your scent is driving me nuts." Positioning himself on top of you and easily pinning you down to the mattress with his weight, he leaned in close to your face, his cock mere centimeters away from your pulsating pussy. He whispered directly in your ear, his voice low, "I'm going to pump you full of my cum, I'm going to fill you with my litter, and watch you swell and grow ripe with my seed, my sweet little omega. We're going to mate for life, and you'll be mine forever. And if any other male dares to even look your way, I'll rip their throat open. You're gonna be my little, breeding bitch."

He plunged his rock-hard cock into your wet cunt.

You screamed out his name as you felt him stretch you painfully, filling you completely.

With a steady rhythm, he began pumping in and out of you, causing your body to convulse in sync with his movements. Your tits bounced with each powerful thrust, and you reached for his back, raking your nails down it for support as he continued to pound into you. You grabbed your perky nipples, pinching and pulling at them, moaning loudly as you were consumed by frenzy.

Kento pounded faster, grunting lowly as beads of sweat slickened his chest, falling onto yours. Leaning down, he kissed you forcefully, his tongue invading your mouth eagerly.

Suddenly, without warning, you felt a powerful orgasm wash over you. Your pussy clamped down on his monstrous cock, your abused hole hot and wet, and he could no longer hold back. It was time to switch positions, or he would cum right then and there.

You were lost in the stupor of pleasure, moaning with each thrust as you rode the waves of your orgasm, rolling your hips up and down to meet all of his thrusts.

Nanami exhaled, pleased to see you enjoying his cock that much, but he couldn't ignore the growing urge from the beast within him. Wrenching himself from your pussy, he leaned back on his haunches, his massive cock glistening with your slick juices, throbbing even harder. He grabbed you and flipped you onto your stomach. "Stick out your ass, bitch."

You got on all fours and raised your plump ass in the air, wiggling it for him.

Nanami gripped your hips, positioning himself behind you. He could feel the warmth from your pussy against the cool slickness covering his throbbing cock. Licking his lips, he plunged back into you. "Oh, fuck, so fucking tight." His tail wiggled behind him as if confirming his appreciation to how snuggly your cunt was.

All you could do was to whimper a little in-between gasps. 

This only turned Kento on more, and he began his rhythmic thrusting, making his monstrous balls slap against your luscious ass. He gripped your hair firmly and pushed your head roughly down onto the mattress as he picked up the pace. "Fuck, yeah, take this cock, take it, take it," he growled, his voice rumbling within his chest.

Pain mixed with pleasure as you felt yourself stretch to accommodate his massive girth. "Kento.... Oh, Kento!" You were moaning.

He reached around you, gripping your breasts firmly, fondling them hardly.

You let out a surprised squeak, but Nanami paid no heed.

His hands shifted to your hips for support as his muscles began to ripple and change, growing larger. His shoulders broadened, and his legs thickened. "Fuck!" he howled, throwing his head back. With one hand on the back of your neck, he pressed you down, while the other smacked your ass, making the flesh jiggle. "Fuck!"

You felt a surge of fear as you quickly realized what was happening. He was on the brink of shifting into his full animal form, but he seemed to be fighting it with all his might. You knew that if he fully transformed, you might end up as his meal once he was done with you. Alphas and betas in their full animal forms were incredibly dangerous, their instincts overriding any trace of human rationality. "N-Nanami..." you begged, your mouth running dry with all the pants that escaped your lips so far.

Feeling his climax approaching, Nanami struggled to hold back the transformation. Instead, he let out a deep growl as he thrust deep inside your pulsating pussy, releasing his load. Hot, thick cum poured into your pussy, painting your spongy walls white with his semen. With each throb, he delivered more of his sticky release, his eyes rolling into the back of his skull in pure pleasure as he kept himself buried inside you, still offering you a few more pushes.

Even as you remained stuffed full of his cock, you began to leak a mix of both your releases. "Kento, Kento..." you were repeating like a mantra.

Finally his cock went flaccid and he pulled out of your hot pussy, his thick semen spilled out of your abused hole, and coated the bedding right between your legs. 

You knew that his potent seed would do what he desired, sooner or later. As you glanced over your shoulder at him, you noticed he couldn't fully control the transformation. His head had taken on a lupine form, while the rest of his body remained as human as possible, aside from a wagging tail.

Nanami leaned forward, licking the sweat off your back with his large, warm tongue, his tail wagging even faster. He gently nibbled on your nape, licking the spot afterward, making you giggle at the sensation. Moving between your legs, he hoisted your hips upwards to gain access to your pussy, which he happily lapped at, cleaning you of the slickness from your mixed releases. Then, he lay by your side, pulling you into a hug. He was satisfied for his bitch had done well.

[twoidiotwriters1]

Date me? —(Ron Weasley xGN!Reader)

A/N: I never write for my boy it's time I change that. Will do a part two if most of you ask for it leaving a comment or reblogging! -Danny Summary: Lazy afternoon with your friend who you're definitely not crushing on. Words: 821

Warnings: This is basically a 'hear me out' one-shot between friends Twoidiots Masterlist

You could always count on Ron to have the best treats. You could also always count on him when you wanted to sit around and do nothing. Today, you two have decided to do nothing in the common room.

Hermione had gone off with Neville and Hannah Abbott to finish some extra work only they would be eager to finish on a Sunday, and Harry was somewhere in the castle with Ginny, which left the two of you with little to do, not that you were complaining.

"What if the Giant has a nice complexion?"

"I'm still not shagging the giant, Y/N," Ron snorted. You had been going at this 'what if' game for hours, first starting with classmates you knew, but now you'd moved on to more... particular options.

"Okay, but what if it's one of the smaller giants?"

"Would still break a leg trying to get it on," Ron laughed. "I'm not shagging a giant, I'm telling you."

"Ron, you're not playing the game right! It's not about being realistic, you just wonder about it sometimes, no need to explain. For example, my pick is Mer-people."

"They're not a bad pick, everyone has thought of it!"

You laugh. "No, they don't! You're just as mental as me!"

"Fine! You want mental, I'll give you mental," Ron's ears blushed a little but he kept talking anyway. "I think if I had to pick, I'd go with Dementors."

You hold back a laugh and answer in a shaky voice. "Is the mo—?"

"Their mouth is huge!" Ron nods, finishing your sentence.

You cackle, holding your stomach. Ron watches you with mirth, also laughing. When the amusement subsides, you wipe your tears and sit up. "Well, but that's almost like doing it with a corpse, isn't it? Aren't dementors like dead people?"

"I have no idea and I don't wish to find out. Besides, you said being realistic spoils the fun."

"True. Sorry to bring it up." You grin.

Ron chuckled, popping a piece of hard candy into his mouth before replying. "I've got another question."

"Shoot!"

"If you had to pick one of us —one of us four, I mean— which one would you date?"

You roll your eyes. "Oh, come on, Ronald, are we circling back to sleepover inquires? That's not even half as fun!"

"Answer the question and I'll go back to the weird ones, then!"

"Fine," you ponder. "Definitely not Harry, he's too thick to understand when someone is flirting with him..."

"All of us are," Ron snorts.

"Well, yeah, but he's the worst," you grin. "And he would find a way to make it awkward anyway, you know he's always reacting in the weirdest ways..."

"Fair enough. That leaves 'Mione and I."

"Well, dating you would mean I would be paying for all the food you ate at our dates, which isn't my idea of fun..."

"Oi! I would have some control, and I wouldn't be letting you pay for everything!" He argues.

"Ah yes, I suppose you'd tip," you tease him. He throws the wrapper of his candy at you, making you chortle. Then you continue to ponder, making a face. "Ah, but then Hermione would never have time for me, would she? It's all school and S.P.E.W., and I have the feeling she'd forget our dates constantly so I'd be basically a fixture on the wall..."

"So it's back to me, then," he smiled with clear satisfaction. "I knew you'd pick me. I'm the looks of this operation."

You snort. "Alright, so who would you pick?"

"Well, can't date Harry because I wouldn't steal my sister's boyfriend, she'd kill me."

"Very wise."

"So I would date you."

You blinked, surprised by his quick decision-making. "What about Hermione?"

"Well, it's like you said, I would only be taking up space in her schedule, and we'd bicker all the time, not that I'd be any better at remembering dates and stuff, but let's face it, I do need attention."

"And you think I'm the right call for that?" You smirked, trying not to sound or look as pleased as you felt.

"Definitely." He mirrored your expression. "You do it all the time already, you come to me when you're looking to have a fun time, so that's something to consider, isn't it?"

"Hm," you nodded pensively. "I s'ppose you're right. Well, how nice of us to pick each other," you joked, trying to rid of the funny feeling in your tummy by playing it down.

"Reckon so, yeah," Ron's smile softened, which only made the butterflies in your stomach go even crazier.

You grabbed a chocolate frog and stuffed it in your mouth, needing to do something other than stare at him. "So," you chew messily. "Harry's life is on the line and you have to french-kiss Umbridge to save him. Would you do it?"

Ron gawked. "Can I do the giant instead?"

Taglist.

@i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual @siriuslysirius1107 @aleksosoto @aconfusedslytherin @talksoprettyjjx @23victoria @moonhoonie @raajali @espressopatronum454 @tokkishouse @slytherinnqueen @typicalsolangelolover @Kai-wifey @j-cat @inkandpen22 @theeicedamericano @hamiltonwc @thelastpyle @emilyyyvalenzuelaaa @azura-mist @tomshollandz @cedricisnotdead @letsfly-andbe-free @meetmyblondemuffins @emilyefronhudgens @aggressivevillian @avengersz-biotch @peachyaeger @ieatpanicattacksforlunch @impulse-anchor @mayoforthewin @mikaelsonwhxrebae @sputnik-01 @angelhugsaresweet @slytherinambitious @outofst1le @na1ven3vy @architect-2015 @writingmia @arey0usirius

[the-froschamethyst4]

When you meet his kids

John Price Headcanons

——————

——————

You were definitely nervous to finally meet Price’s children

When you both started dating he didn’t want to share that he had kids till he knew she was the one for him

He has a son named Beau and a daughter named Iris

Iris is a sweet and kind girl who did t care if someone wasn’t her mom as long as he daddy was happy

Beau was very much skeptical about Y/n for the first time. Price has been with other women before Y/n and every time it never ends well

Price was nervous as well on how his kids will act around his now soon-to-be wife

“Hi, Y/n,” Iris said with a soft smile and putting her hand out

Y/n took it and shook it. “Nice to meet you too, Iris. I’ve heard so much about you, you’re so lovely,” Y/n said.

“You’re just trying to get on her good side because you want something,” Beau said but he got smacked upside the head by Price.

“Be nice, Beau,” he said in a low voice.

“Why are you with my dad?” Beau asked.

“Because I love him.”

“Him or his money?”

“Him and only him,” she said being calm.

“I’m not buying that…every women he’s been with wants his money…I know you want it.”

“With respect Beau…I have my own money, I don’t need your father’s money,” Price smiled at Y/n.

Beau was slightly impressed that she was standing up for herself the others would have crumbled knowing they’ve been caught

Y/n had dinner with Price and his kids. Iris was already attached to Y/n and doesn’t want her to go, after dinner Iris showed Y/n her room and showed her the toys Price has brought her from his missions, Y/n smiled at the toys

Iris gave Y/n a toy that Price brought from China and Iris said it's one of her favorites. Price leaned against the doorframe watching Iris tell Y/n about the 'adventures' her toys went on

Beau rolled his eyes when he watched Iris and Y/n play together

Iris kind of seeing Y/n as a someone she could play with instead of a mom and that's fine with Y/n as long as everyone is happy

Price held Y/n's hand as they sat on the couch watching TV together, Iris was in bed due to her early bedtime and Beau played video games in his bedroom for the rest of night till Price wants to go to bed

Beau was playing a 1st person shooter game and Y/n went upstairs to go speak with Beau to let him know everything will be okay

She knocked before she entered his bedroom, he removed one of the headphones covering his right ear and looked at Y/n, he groaned, rolling his eyes and focusing back on his game

"I know you don't like me and that's okay, I'm not here to replace your mom in any sort of way-"

"But you are or else you wouldn't be here," Beau said.

"You...You might have a point...but...I will only love you as much as I can even if you don't like me...I've never been a mom before let alone a stepmom before and...I know you don't like me and you have the right to never ever like me-"

"Right, can you go now, I want to play my game," Beau said, placing his headphone back on his right ear.

"Oh, I know this game...my brother played it all the time," she said, sitting next to him on the bed.

"Did you play it?"

"Every now and then but I'm not that good," she said as an idea popped in Beau's head.

"Here...you try," Beau pushed the controller into her hands.

"Okay..." Y/n was flipping through skins and guns, ammo, and upgrade the skills. Beau was kind of impressed, she was fast, and her character looked amazing.

Y/n then started to game, and she was dropped into a random part of the map, he passed her his headphones and immediately shot at an opponent.

Beau was impressed with how she played, she didn't hesitant to shoot some opponents and collected some new guns that even Beau has never collected before

Beau was stunned when Y/n was in the top 5 with the most kills in 1 round

"Wow," he said, she took off the headphones and gave him the controller back.

"Yeah...I'm not that good-"

"NOT THAT GOOD! THAT WAS AMAZING!!"

It's been close to a year now. The kids love Y/n, and the kids and her now have days where they do mother and kids bonding time together.

Iris and Y/n every Friday night will play 'Iris's dolls adventure'

And every Saturday night, Beau and Y/n play the video game that Y/n was 'bad at'

Price and Y/n also spend every Thursday night as a 'date night' because their mom gets them every Tuesday and Thursday

Their mom...hates Y/n...because she's young and has more attention from her kids and her ex-husband. Why does she care about her ex-husband? Because she was told by him that she is his one and only but not anymore

They got the divorce because Price's ex-wife was a workaholic constantly working and not spending time with the kids or her 'husband'

Beau and Iris came running into house excited to see their stepmom, Y/n bent down and hugged the two kids, she kissed their temples

"How was school?" She asked them.

"Good." Iris said.

"Boring," Beau said, his usual answer when he came home.

"Well go get cleaned up, and get you things together, your mom is coming to get you two," Y/n said as the kids groaned and headed to their rooms.

Price walked through the door of his home seeing Y/n fix them some food. Price has to be home when his ex-wife comes to collects the kids.

He knows Y/n is capable of making sure everything goes smoothly, it's just the fact of his ex-wife hating Y/n and she tries to start things with Y/n.

“Daddy, I don’t want to go,” Iris groans as she came downstairs.

“I know, baby, but it’s part of the court, it’s just for today and you come home to us tomorrow afternoon,” he said, kissing her forehead.

They waited on the porch for their mother. Y/n stood close to Price and the kids sat on the porch stairs and played with the rocks, then they saw their mother car pull into the driveway with music blasting mainly 'heartbreak' songs.

Happier by Olivia Rodrigo, Good in goodbye by Madison Beer, Online Lovers by Conan Gray, and Backstabber by Kesha

Price rolled his eyes at her being dramatic.

"Come on, kids," she yells. Beau got up first and Price picked up his daughter taking her down the porch stairs and placing her into the backseat. "Does she really have to watch?"

"Yes...she's a witness in case anything happens," Price said.

"Like what John? You afraid I might call the cops again?"

"You called them because the kids told you no on a visit and you calmed, I was holding them hostage...I'm not putting them through that again, I almost lost them because of you and reckless behavior," Price said as she smirked and pulled out of the driveway.

"Price?"

"I fucking hate her," he said as he walked towards her and moved her inside.

"Do you think everything will be okay?"

"I'm not sure...Beau knows my number that if anything happens, he can call me and let me know," Price said.

Price and Y/n tried to get over what had happened, Price picked at the food and Y/n placed hers down.

"Did I not make it right?" She asked.

"No, it's good, love...I'm just worried about the kids."

"I understand, Price...we can stop eating and you can call them."

"I can't, she has the right to decline my calls...so I can't even reach them."

"We can get Beau a phone."

"He's too young," Price said, leaning back.

Price and Y/n cleaned up around the kitchen and Y/n was dancing to a random beat in her head. Price was confused and watched her do some small random dances

"What are you doing?"

"Huh? Oh, I don't know, it's just a random tune in my head," she said as she turned to him still doing those small dances

"Are you trying to cheer me up?"

"A bit..." she said.

Price smiles and joins in on the small dances

[mt-oe]

𝙈𝙖𝙩𝙘𝙝 𝙁𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙙—𝙜𝙖𝙢𝙚𝙧 𝙢𝙞𝙯𝙪 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙣𝙨

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Hey dears!

I've been getting addicted with playing Valorant recently and thought it would be fun to try and make some hcs for Mizu <3

Clove's release is so exciting and I'm so happy non-binary people are given some representation in games. They're so much fun and their ult mechanic is such a game-changer.

Please tell me if you'd like me to make more of these or if I should make some for other games too (as long as I know them well enough).

Anywho, let's go!

Enjoy! Mwa mwa :*

warnings: not proofread, the use of "clutch or gay", she/her for mizu

mizu has a crush on you :3

✦ Her fave maps are Icebox and Bind. Whenever you play comp with her and these maps roll up, you're internally fucking hollering. You're thanking every possible deity there is, dancing in your seat, kissing your monitor.

She's such a god in these maps. Every good agent for every role, every lineup, and even some pro play shit strats, she memorized it.

She loves Icebox for how easy it was to clear angles and how easy it was to formulate AND predict strategies. The map was pretty straightforward and no bullshit. Perfect for her.

Bind for the outplay potentials. Teleporters + Yoru TP/Omen TP and Ult? There's no telling where she may be. Will she plant in A? Will she plant in B? Maybe she's already flanking? Who knows?

✦ Mizu doesn't buy skins but she DOES have some. They're gifts from you and her friends! An oni phantom, neptune spectre, and sovereign marshal from Akemi; An arcane sheriff from Taigen because they're probably taking their shit-talking to League too; and a reaver vandal, reaver karambit, and the oni katana from you.

She doesn't really give a shit about skins, but ever since she was gifted one, she started appreciating them. You'll see her using the inspect animation once in a while if she picks up a skin she's never seen before.

If it's just a chill comp game or she's playing solo queue, she'll use the oni katana. If she's playing with you and/or wants to show off, she'll use the reaver karambit. Of course you have to go with the sexy one when trying to impress.

✦ Doesn't shit talk heavily, but shit talks in a way that'll piss you off.

"Ooooh shit someone's mad," you laughed over the voice-comms, watching as the enemy Reyna started spewing all sorts of insults at your team. It was mostly targeted at Mizu, who was also playing Reyna, and was top-fragging. Soon after that fiasco, you'd see Mizu type "." in all chat every time she killed the enemy Reyna, got a clutch, and even an ace. Everyone was snickering at her antics, finding it funny how Mizu was shitting on them while the enemy was clearly progressively getting even more tilted.

On the other hand, if Taigen was there and Mizu failed to clutch the round, he'd be laughing loudly over the voice chat, making fun of her over and over. He'd even type "GG [insert Mizu's current agent]. Aimlabs is free" in team chat, which was so fucking embarrassing. The moment Mizu catches Taigen lacking, she'll be having a hayday in the team chat, spamming "GG [insert Taigen's current agent], Aimlabs is free" over and over which effectively pisses Taigen off.

✦ Along with the previous one, if someone ever decided to trashtalk you, she's going absolutely feral. She still wouldn't be spewing nonsense, but you'll notice her becoming more aggressive.

"Didn't you just use your ult?" You asked her, spectating as she used another Reyna ult which you swore she just used two rounds ago. "I just feel like playing a little better today," she replies. But then goes to strafe like a fucking bitch, doing a poppin' swing once or thrice, making the enemy struggle before killing the enemy and t-bagging them aggressively.

You raised an eyebrow at her antics but still laughed at it. "You sure you're not here for blood?" you joked. "Yeah.." she said while spamming your trashtalker's KD status in all-chat.

✦ There's no doubt about how well she plays with different agents, but her worst agent to use would be Gekko. Something about Dizzy's trajectory and letting Wingman plant and defuse felt off to her. Maybe it was because she was used to having control over the speed of her flashes and being able to fake defuse.

✦ Actually responds to "clutch or gay" jokes.

If a random teammate or anyone in your friend group (mainly Taigen) decides to use that joke on her during a clutch situation, it doesn't matter if it's a 1v1, a 1v5, a 1v5 + Sage res + Clove ult. She's winning. She's fucking winning.

You watched in anticipation as Mizu, using Omen, went through attacker spawn in Breeze. It was a 1v4, having picked one off when she picked up the spike. For a moment, you thought of something before typing "clutch or gay" in team chat. It worked for your other friends and randos, why not try it?

The moment she read that chat from you, you could immediately see Omen throwing his weapons off of the map. The noise of the agent's footsteps prompting the enemy to shoot him. "Bro what the fuck are you doing?" Taigen groans, annoyance heavy in his voice. Mizu doesn't respond in voice chat, but you hear her typing. After a while, a chat pops up.

(Whisper) From mizu: did you see that?

(Whisper) To mizu: mhm. why'd u do that :c

(Whisper) From mizu: you said clutch or gay

(Whisper) From mizu: i didn't clutch.

But she only ever does this to you.

✦ Actually plays fill but everyone in your friend group decided to place her as a duelist. She's going to treat every agent like a damn duelist anyway. Why place her somewhere else? You get site early and fast + She gets higher RR from combat score. It's a win-win. Plus, she loves secretly showing off to you. She relishes the "woah where'd you learn to satchel like that?", the "nice kill!" when she wins in an Iso 1v1, and the way you bought her an op upon her request when she used Jett as if you automatically trusted her.

[slippinninque]

Can we get another Chester from “They Cloned Tyrone” story plzzzzzz 🥹🙏🏾🥹🙏🏾🥹🙏🏾🥹

😒Busted😬

Chester x blackfemreader

In which Chester has a secret....

warnings: cursing, fluff, bit of jealousy, misunderstandings, tiny mentions of kink, very self indulgent fic, bit of a pick up from Bear Hug

Chester was hiding something from you. A week and a few days more, he hasn't been himself.

Barely home when you are, nearly runs to his room when he sees you unexpectedly, and doesn't speak. Not the normal silence that clung to him so naturally. There was nothing inviting your attention or banter--he felt too twitchy to play with.

You were his roommate which he, more than occasionally, liked to get down and sexy with. You'd like to think that there was a mutual acknowledgement of the shadow of something-more that loomed over your relationship.

This shadow that has grown into a terrible twist in your gut. A nagging worm bored into your brain after one too many vents to ReRe at the hair shop was overheard by a regular.

"I'm telling you, girl, I've been around and I know what it means for a man to be all shifty like that."

"That so, Ms. Cheryl?"

"Mhm! Ain't saying nothing against you, 'course, but a man gonna want more than chicken every night...know what I'm saying?"

You knew what she was saying. You've heard it before you retired, of course. All from clients who were too ashamed to be honest with themselves, those who wanted their cake and to eat it too.

You tired to shake it off. You ignored the empty spots where Chester would normally be. You went to work more hour and kept your mouth shut while at it. Despite the baiting gossiping floating in between press and curls, you said nothing more about your business.

What was a relationship without some secrets, anyway?

Chester has only helped you and never hurt you--what if it was something too embarrassing for him to talk about? What if he was getting to know other people? It was the longest you've gone without touching each other and you couldn't just ignore that.

The facts of it was that Chester was a grown ass man and the two of you haven't discussed exclusivity. This arrangement was more than nice but perhaps Chester was growing bored of it?

If he wanted to get bound and gagged by someone else, that was his business. You were going to let it go.

Instead, you came home early from work just to see what you would find. It felt dirty to sneak into your own house but it felt even worse to see the startled expression on Chester's face on the way out from the kitchen.

"Why are you here?"

"Why are you here?"

The two of you stood across from each other with the last week of tension weaving between you. Chester rolled his neck along his shoulders, still silent.

"Fine, then."

With a vicious hum, you turned towards the linen closet and jerked open the door. There was no way someone could hide in there Chester was fucking Ant-Man of all people. Chester stepped in an immediate hover and you turned to snap at him.

A sound came from the back where your bedrooms were cut you off. You bolted towards it with building fire in your chest. Was Chester doing the binding and gagging?

Chester choked before falling right behind you. Still too late, he could only watch as you doubled back to damn near kick in the bathroom door when the sound came again, louder.

"...Oh..."

Your arms were splayed to block in your would-be replacement but Chester could still see over you and down at the puppies snuffling around in a pile of linen.

Instantly melting to the floor, you took in the three little angels. Pitbull puppies, you'd know those future big-heads anywhere.

They were precious and fussy--it must have been feeding time from the way they were looking to bust out of their cozy crib at the sound of your commotion.

"Chester?"

He came into the bathroom, dragging himself down into a crouch as if waiting for sentencing. You patted the ground until he sat on his behind on the other side of the box.

"So, this is what had you all twitchy."

"The shelter needed time," Chester stared at the puppy pile, "They said they would call but..."

That would explain a lot. Keeping three mouths fed in between whatever the fuck Chester did--

"You've been taking good care of them. They're so chunky and so stinkin' cuute!"

Chester shrugged as if it were no big deal but you noticed the pleased slant to his mouth as he looked down at the puppies. There was pride on his face as he put a hand on the box's edge as if he meant to rock them.

How much this must have took for him to do. Chester didn't strike you as a type to care much for animals, let alone fostering them--but he surprised you once again.

You felt terrible. Terrible for doubting him and terrible for letting your insecurities threaten this little piece of happy you've found. You were lucky that the man you were sharing a bed with was only hiding strays in the house.

"I want to apologize to you, Bear. "

"Hm?"

"I let some broad get into my head but that's on me," you shook your head at the situation your jealousy caused, "I ended up thinking that you were looking to get another...roommate. I'm sorry for giving you the attitude, lately. "

Chester made a noise that could only be described as, Ew! You snorted, amazed at how such a little sound could give you so much relief.

"No. I'm not searching." Chester's voice was firm, his brows coming together and his expression suddenly had you feeling bared. You turned your eyes to the snuffling angels but Chester's hand appeared palm up before you.

With your hand in his, the last dregs of your anxiety faded away and you let your self shuffle about so you were side by side. Chester's palm was warm and calloused, one of the two hands that's been responsible for three little lives while you were chewing denim in between your insecurities.

"I'm sorry to make you feel as if you had to hide this from me." You apologized again, "This is your house too. If you wanted to bring a flippin' llama in here--you could."

"I did not intend for this to go this far and I...did mean to tell you. I heard them when it was dark and I..."

Chester stopped. You realized it was more so a Chester Thing rather than a You Thing. There were some things that he was working through, something Chester didn't have to say out loud for you to understand.

It was normal for someone to bring home a box of kittens or puppies, who could ignore their cries in the night? You were beginning to think that it wasn't normal for someone like Chester. He seemed...ashamed by it.

You broke the silence to ask lightly, "Did you have any names for them?"

"Small," he gestured towards the cinnamon-toasted puppy smooshed between the other two, "Medium," the snuffling blue-grey puppy, "and, Large." The obvious biggest of the trio, jet black and the loudest with their displeasure of being kept waiting.

Good Lord. You turned away but couldn't hold in your laugh. Chester huffed and tugged you closer to fall into him and you giggled now as he narrowed his eyes at you.

"Well, what names would be best?"

"Oh, baby, I don't know. I'm just giving you shit."

Chester sucked his teeth and made to scoot away from you, but you only followed after throwing an arm around his neck.

"Okay! Okayokayokay--we can come up with something good between the two of us! Let's think..."

The next two hours consisted of you and Chester relocating the puppies to your room while you ping-ponged potential names with good ol' Merriam-Webster. You watched as Chester tenderly cleaned and fed the puppies before redressing their box, adding a plushie at your insistence.

Once their bellies were full--the puppies cuddled together in a corner with their new fox friend and settled down. The attention span you would have spent on putting together dinner was spent on a quick order for pizza order.

"Okay, one more time for good luck," You said as you Chester came back from getting your food from the deliveryman,

"We have Tiny, Minnie, and Stout. Formally known as 'small', 'medium', and 'large'. How'd we feel? Is that fitting for these girls?"

"Feels good." Chester said after a beat of though, "Better than...before."

"Don't beat yourself up, naming babies is hard, man."

Chester rewarded you with a rare smile, wide enough to show "Very much worth it, though."

The two of you ate pizza from the box on the floor, when you came back from getting the drinks--Chester turned on the TV. When you sat beside him and leaned onto his shoulder, his arm went around your waist. He was initiating a lot of contact which was frisky for Chester.

You looked up at Chester to see him already staring at you with warm, affectionate eyes. Heart flipped, you shoved your pizza into your mouth. It didn't stop you from smiling though.

"You are my roommate." Chester leaned in to be sure he was heard, "No one else would ever suffice."

"Thank you, Bear." The reassurance was sudden but it wiped away a few smudges from your heart. The way he said 'roommate' replaced any seeds of doubt in your mind with flower buds, this event forever a reminder that you could trust Chester.

Hearing Chester say that no one could replace you...that was priceless, though.

You cleared your throat and looked to the box, "Say...they're pretty young to be going so soon. Should we hold onto them for a while? Just until they're a bit older, you think?"

"Agreed." Chester said readily, "When it's time for their shots, you will have to come along. They'll cry."

"Agreed." You nodded, "I'll step up and help out with these babies. No more secret Baby Daddy-ing without me, okay?"

Chester nodded slowly but once again, sure. Agreed.

You grinned and pulled one of the throw blankets from your bed to drag over your laps, Chester reached for another slice with his eyes were on the puppies when one stirred.

It's never felt so good to be so wrong. You felt like you were glowing as you plotted how to truly apologize to Chester.

---------

✨ending notes✨: thank you to the anon who submitted the ask about Chester! I love him so, I swear I do! 🤣 I'm sorry it took so long, I hope you enjoyed a bit of fluff! This was very self indulgent and I will be bringing back these puppies lmao! 😌tell me what you think and as always, thank you so much for reading!!! 💜✨💕💖✨

💕tag list:💕 @megamindsecretlair @sageispunk @harmshake @misskiki90 @thadelightfulone

@ms-angiealsina @mcondance

[fbfh]

Hi! Would you mind writing Logan Huntzberger with a reader who comes from a family with a bunch of traditions? (Aka me lol) For example, my family has a tradition of Friday night date night for my parents. When we were little, my brother and I would go sleepover at my Papa's house but once he passed when I was 13, my brother and I started having movie nights while my parents are on their date (more often than not they stay at home, but it's still super sweet). Then, on Saturday mornings my Mom and I wake up bright and early to go to the farmers market, my Dad always leaves out twenty bucks along with a note so that my Mom and I can buy ourselves each a bouquet of flowers. When we come back home, we make chocolate chip pancakes and slather peanut butter and nutella all over them. Sundays are lazy days. No friends or visitors allowed. My Mom has a pretty strict no one leaves the house rule; it's family time and relaxing day. We get to sleep in as late as we want and have sugary cereal for breakfast. We usually spend the day watching movies, playing outside, and playing board/card games together. It's just really chill in my house on the weekends, and I think Logan could really benefit from having a girlfriend who is so chill and relaxing. I can just imagine you inviting him home with you, and him being so chill and smiley playing board games and walking around the farmer's market.

Also, Logan would be so down to have weekly date nights. A designated evening for him to spoil you rotten? Sign him up!

OH MY GODDDDDDDDDD LOGAN LOVES IT. once he gets real down bad and obsessed with you (which does not take long at all) he makes plans to surprise you with some fancy date or something and you're like "oh shit I can't! that's movie night. so is the friday after that and after that perpetually and indefinitely :/" he's cool with it and trying to mentally juggle things and reshuffle schedules cause you ARE his priority and you're like "but you can join us if you want!"

Logan had no idea you had a brother. he also realizes he came horribly over dressed and has never really experienced a quiet causal family hangout. he loves his family but his parents are usually off at fancy galas or fancy fundraisers or fancy business events and Honor has been obsessed with planning her wedding and making it perfect since before she was even in a relationship. his friends are more let's go get waisted off liqour that could pay off someone's college tuition types. he loves all of them - his friends, his family - but he's never really been in any "let's hang out all quiet and cozy and sober at home" circles. it's so nice, so refreshing to do that with you. your brother laughs at how overdressed he is, and you bring him upstairs to dig around for something comfy for him. one pair of sweatpants and an old summercamp t shirt later, the three of you are curled up in the living room, surrounded convenience store snacks and frozen pizza, half way through your double feature - now a triple feature, since you and your brother insist Logan picks the next movie. he relents as you all disolve into laughter, and pulls you closer to kiss you while your brother fake gags at the sight.

"this is... the best night I've had in a long time." Logan tells you quietly, a vulnerable, intimate tone in his voice, and you understand how much this, this inclusion and acceptance and normalcy means to him.

"good." you reply, smiling, "cause you're staying all weekend. I hope you like mickey mouse pancakes and cleaning while my parents blast cher."

he laughs and agrees.

"I think I can handle that."

you snuggle back into him as the next movie starts.

"just wait till I tell you about date night."

[fountainpenguin]

"You're on your own- So what? Have you gone blind? Have you forgotten what you have and what is yours?" (x)

---

For Sale: Bird Wings (Never Worn)

❤️ Read on AO3

💛 Complete! - 7/7 chapters - 37k words

💚 More Neighborhood Watch AU

I just finished a chill, T-rated found family 'fic from my "Life Series but it's a single timeline" AU project. Check it out!

---

Synopsis: When Grian Ties’g was 16, the last Totem of Undying in the known world swapped his soul with the Grian one universe to the left… sparing him a perma-death, but at what cost?

An overwhelmed Grian Xelqua - who did not sign up for this, thank you very much - jolts awake in a world where Red Names are no joke and stealing someone’s life is fair play.

And a very Red Tango now has a sword at his throat. ❤️

(First 1,300 words under the cut)

---

For Sale: Bird Wings (Never Worn)

Those Who Came Before

🖤  🖤  ❤️

The first Totem of Undying in the Four Lands passed through the wrinkled hands of many wealthy folks in Crimson City before falling into possession of a princess who went Red young and fled her home. She kept it all her life, but when the time came to breathe her last, she unwound it from its place at her bosom and clasped it around the neck of her only son.

"I've lived enough," she simply said. "I've led so long and you've been faithful. Go now and do as you see fit with your given lives."

Steve Wandering watched his mother die as he had watched his father, burying the memories of both with shovel and silence. He'd always been a silent man. He took up his sword and from then on traveled decade after decade, sharing food with the needy and braving the hissing creatures of the night. He invented many things, discovered many treasures, and died glorious in a fight against the Dragon That Ends All.

And lived.

And lost those memories like the wind.

The second Totem of Undying in the Four Lands belonged to Alex Wolftamer in the east, who claimed to care not for the treasure passed down through her ancestral line of Wolf Kings and Queens. They had no palace, but called themselves such titles in their stand against Kingdom Crimson. Rather than flaunt that totem around her own neck, she wrapped it like a collar at the throat of her dog. Across the years, far too many people of sinister desire fought sword and pick to win her hand or win the hunting hound. It's with a shout and diamond axe that she lunged at the cloaked stranger who ventured through the valley forest. With cheery, bellyaching laugh, Herobrine caught her hand and spun her dangerously near the mountain drop.

"Why should I take from your beloved she-wolf?" he asked, and dangled a totem from his own wrist where she could see. "I've already got one. I did not come to take what loved ones gave unto you, but to inquire of your wisdom… for I have no one I love as much as you care for your dear wolf. I am but a cowardly man who's worn the totem for himself for security and peace. I cannot imagine surrendering it. Tell me, warrior… How did you find such inner peace?"

"Who says I have?"

"What ails you, then?"

"I fear the encroach of the Red Army. Their farms extend ever nearer to our forests. Their high-ranking officers, bearing the Hand mark upon their chests, come demanding tribute and insist we raise their banner. So many from our village have sought the safety of their walls. I wish for nothing but food for my dogs, repairs for my roof, and safe passage through the land."

"Ah… What have you done to incite their displeasure?"

"I haven't raised hand against them unless they've come directly in conflict with me."

"How frequent are their conflicts?"

"They've claimed our cows. They flood the roads to market with lava and have taken two lives- nearly three. They harass the trades I make with my own neighbors of my own free will."

"Let us go secretly, then, and burn the walls that have reached your valley's edge."

They married two years later, and it was four after that that Alex fell from a great height, one arm wrapped around her canine companion and the other reaching for a husband who lunged and missed her hand vanishing from the cliff. Alex hit the ground a block away from the rushing river that saved her dog.

And lived.

And lost those memories like rain. Not even the dog recognized her then, growling and nipping when Alex rose to her feet, and Snowflake followed Herobrine when they parted ways. They say he never took Snowflake's totem from her collar, but that Snowflake wriggled out of it the day after Alex died, took the chain in her teeth, and presented it to him with grief in her dark eyes. It may be just a story - a personification of a ragged beast - but it's a prettier tale than the alternative way this tale could end.

That third Totem of Undying, the one that Herobrine Mapcrafter wore on his wrist for much of his life, originated from the North. It tumbled through the hands of wizards and they say Herobrine was gifted it for his proven mastery in breaching the Nether dimension- the secrets of which had only been held by the Westlands until now.

Prior his apprenticeship beneath the wizards' eyes, he'd been raised a cartographer. Following the death of Alex, he took up mapmaking again with Snowflake by his side. He entered the Nether dimension for what he knew would be his final time. They never came out again and no record survives depicting full details. People speak often that he perhaps saved a community of Netherborn folks from a hissing, snarling Wither Boss that clawed its way out of the ground. Others whisper he released that Wither himself out of grief and wished for death. Witnesses claim he leapt before the beast, taking the hit on Snowflake's behalf.

And lived.

And lost those memories like they'd been scorched alive. They say he went mad, never the same again. Some claim they've seen Snowflake's white fur dashing through the Nether even now, her howl weeping for her masters and the moon and the feel of grass beneath her paws.

The last Totem of Undying in the Four Lands (rumor claimed) lay hidden in the Southlands. For three decades since the rise of the Dragon That Ends All, the unremarkable little thing drifted and tumbled and snagged or… something of the sort. Details unknown. It passed into the sewers at some undefinable point, where it floated until it didn't. It caught and clung to the sewer's edge year after year after year.

There it stayed until a ragtag tangle of friends - a trio - sought shelter in the tunnels after their brotherhood of Bad Boys split and turned against each other. They trekked without hesitation into the grime, for they were Red of name and disgust could graze them not. The youngest, with his gray and yellow wings, sat down near the entrance to clean an open wound. The eldest began to organize their meager food supply. The middle child, aged only 16, waded deeper through the passageway, wandering with little purpose but to scout for things to have; things to take. Red Lives, as a rule, are very, very greedy.

The totem lasted exactly 4 minutes and 36 seconds in Grian Ties'g's possession. He found it tangled among the filth and wasted no time taking it for himself. To prevent his fellow Bad Boys from sniping it away, he scrambled up a dirty shaft to the surface like an eel gifted flight. His wings were soaked from sewage water, so he did not fly. He bolted across the open field, laughing like a madman.

"Yes! YESSSS!"

His foot crossed a boundary line he never could have seen. Grian charged straight into a shrieker trap laced with TNT. Set them all off. He died to the gasping cheers of a Red who'd only just finished all the set-up. The last thing he ever heard was the "OH-hoh-hoh-ohhh!" of a shrieking onlooker. He blew up instantly, scarlet feathers and blobs of purple soul energy scattered in all directions. The central core melted free from flesh and dribbled to the ground in a gooey heap.

In a word? Perma-killed. The totem vaporized before anyone ever confirmed he had it, so people seek it in the Southlands even now (It might be right here; it's been hiding right here).

This story is not about that Grian. Not anymore. It's about the one who lived… whose memories do not match this world at all.

[ Full 'fic up on AO3 ]

[thelikesoffinn]

hello - hope you're doing great! I love your analysis, and I wanted to ask about something I've been thinking fanfic wise but also applicable to real life (I think).

So Astarion gets paired a lot with Tavs who also have tragic past experiences (hard to be at his level of tragedy, but some get close). Which is all well and good, cause I see how writing these characters and reading about them is cathartic to many, but I also see plot-wise, it makes it "easier" for him to connect with Tav in a way, kindred souls and all that.

My Tav's background is one of someone who either had a fairly good and regular life, and, if trauma occured, it's been healthily overcome. So at the beginning of the BG3 story she's actually at the end of her own initial "character" arc.

Now my issue is, can Astarion connect with someone who has no idea at all of what he went through? My idea is that's he'd infantilize her, or openly antagonise her (in his charming way) because she's got no right to understand (especially with how he thinks it's fine to be racist and hurt the weak in the first act).

And she'd be understanding and wanting to help and all, but how can people with no/little traumatic experiences connect with those who went through hell, even with the best intentions? It's a dynamic I'd like to explore, because I've seen it played in real life a few times.

Sorry for the poem!

Hello, flower! Thank you so much, I'm glad that you enjoyed the analysis ❤️

As for your question: Eh, I do see why that dynamic is a rather difficult one. People who've survived through a lot of traumata tend to be somewhat hesitant and guarded in front of those who had normal lives at the best of times, and we all know that Astarion rarely has a "best of times", especially early in the game.

Infantilising them is something I definitely see with him. He's the type to do that with anyone anyway, but especially so with those he considers "sheltered". And sheltered is likely something he inevitably will consider Tav, as that is often the case with those who experienced trauma.

Trauma tends to age and harden you, in a way, so oftentimes people who simply grew up normally, with normal ups and downs, are viewed as "sheltered" or "spoiled" by those who didn't, even if that wasn't necessarily the case. That label isn't used or assigned maliciously, and it's simply based on the fact that other people's "normal" seems like the very best to someone who had it worse.

I can also see a huge amount of antagonism, yes, but how it shows will depend on when your story is set.

Is it while he's still dependent on Tav? Then I think he'd try to refrain from being more antagonistic towards them than necessary, since he needs to stay on their good side. So, he'd likely stick with his base-line arseholeishness, if a bit more intense at times. You know, in a sense that you side eye him and wonder if he just actually insulted you or if he's still joking around.

But if he's not dependent on them? Oh boy. Yeah, very likely that he'd be extremely mean and Tav would definitely 100% know that he means everything he says, even when it's uttered with a smile. Think how he talks to the Gur hunter in act 1 because let's be honest…that was far from subtle.

Astarion as a whole doesn't take kindly to anyone prodding his weak spots, albeit he mellows a bit towards Tav over the course of the story, and if would be even worse with "sheltered" Tav. He would likely flip his shit really hard and become extremely cruel with them, staying on their good side be damned because how dare they prod where they have no business being?

It's something I've seen at work before, and let me tell you: It's never a pretty sight. Many people who experienced trauma usually don't want to hurt others - quite the contrary, a lot of them would rather sacrifice themselves before watching anyone else get hurt like they were - but that doesn't mean they're not good at it. Precisely because they're often so hypervigilant, they have a talent in picking out your weak spots and if you test them enough, oh boy. They'll hit them with such aim and grace, you'll find yourself reeling. And that's the super sweet and kind clients, not the Astarions.

Here it's important to mention that the things people say in those situations are rarely what they really believe. It's mostly is just a well aimed assassination of your soft spots to get you to back off and leave them be.

So "sheltered" Tav will have to be extremely careful regarding any sore spots if they don't want to be hit by the full force of protective-malice.

Does that mean Astarion and your Tav won't be able to bond? Aabsolutely not, but it will be a tad bit difficult because he'll likely take a lot longer to open up and their bond will have to be built entirely from scratch. The shared understanding of their trauma can’t function as a temporary foundation – temporary because a bond entirely based on [shared] trauma will eventually become instable, if not fortified by other things – so they’ll have to put in a lot of work to even get to having a solid foundation to build on.

I'll give you a bit of a general rundown on how I was taught to tackle clients like that, maybe any of that will be helpful for you!

So, firstly: "Sheltered" Tav will need to be careful and understanding and they'll have to be able to take a blow and live with it if they accidentally step to close too early.

Important to note: They'll have to be able to take a blow but they can't be too lenient either.

Astarion seems like a person who's attached to 'respect'. Not in the 'respect your elders' way, but in the sense that he treats those he respects a lot better than those he doesn't. It's the nobility’s definition of respect - some "deserve" it and some don't and who is who is entirely based on personal understanding - so it's very in line with his background.

So, while your Tav will need to be able to take a hit, they'll need to know when to call him out on his bullshit. If you let Astarion walk all over you, he will eventually lose all respect and then this is a lost cause. Don't let him push you around.

If he's being too cruel, don't be cruel back, but definitely call him out on it and let him know that he can always ask you to stop prodding but you will not stand around and let him insult you.

Be understanding, but don't be a doormat.

Then, in order to get someone to open up, you'll have to have a lot of patience. Don't demand anything, don't force anything. Every question you ask has to be careful and phrased in a way that won't corner them, which can be really difficult in casual conversation. So, mishaps can and will likely happen, which is great material for a story anyway, so that's great! (Not so great at work though, haha.)

In case of "sheltered" Tav, it's probably best if they wait for him to come to them. Listen when he rants, listen to the tiny things he mentions and if you ask questions, make sure they directly relate to what he's told you just then.

So, if he talks about Cazador essentially making him choose between eating putrid rats or getting beaten, a question like: "Did he do that a lot?" or "Was it always those two options?" could potentially be alright because the red string is easily visible for both parties. Astarion can tell why you would ask something like that and he can follow your line of thought easily.

But a question like: "What else did he do to you?" or "Did he do other things as well?" would probably have his defences going up. It's too broad, too unspecific, and how is that any of your business anyway? What is this, an interrogation? An interview so that you can ghost write his sad memoirs? Back off.

While a question like: "How exactly did those dinners go?" or "Beaten? How?" is too specific. You're practically asking him to relive a painful moment in great detail for your own "enjoyment". Why else would you want to know? Why else would you ask how exactly he'd been hurt and humiliated, if not for that? Maybe you were planning to do the same to him. He won't let you. The past is the past. Let. It. Rest.

So, as you can tell, it's basically playing question-hot-foot!

But even if your Tav should cross the lines in that regard every once in a while - it happens, every question is a gamble - it'll eventually be fine. The closer they get, the easier it will be to ask questions, because he'll realise that he can actually trust them.

The one word I would really really avoid - and I cannot stress this enough - is 'understand'. God never use it. Tav, omit it from your vocabulary, you'll never "understand" anything ever again!

"I understand what you went though was horrible, but/and/however…" - No, you really do not. You can't understand, can't even imagine what he's faced over the years so never pretend that you do.

"I won't pretend to understand what you went through, but I want to/you can trust me/I can still listen." - Always said with kindness, but that one really is nothing but an empty platitude, at best. Hearing someone say that they don't understand you so directly is never really encouraging either.

"I just want to understand you." - Great, but you don't need to know the barest parts of a person's soul to be able to understand them. If you can't do it without that, maybe you shouldn't. And, all in all, this phrasing of the last one feels really iffy anyway, personally speaking, because it has a very manipulative edge to it. 'Hey I'm just overstepping your boundaries because I want to know you and understand you better. It's all for you..." and blegh. I hate that one, but that might be totally personal so please feel entirely free to ignore this paragraph.

Anyway, as you can see…never "understand", even if it’s just meant to encourage him. Just don't. I've seen clients who asked to be transferred to a different social worker or ended up leaving completely because someone used one of those lines, so I'd really strongly advise against them.

Instead, opt for things like "I'll listen to whatever you want to say." or "Can you explain it to me?" because that way you're not lying to his face and you're leaving everything up to him. He gets to decide where this conversation goes and, more importantly, how far it goes. Not an interview, not an interrogation, but a conversation that he controls.

And well then, flower, that’s it! Of course, there’s a lot more to it, but we’d still be here by the time Baldur’s Gate 8 is released if I went over every tiny thing, but I hope this was enough of an overview to help you build your story 😊 If you end up sharing it, don’t be shy to let me know, I’d be excited to check it out because, as you said, it’s a really interesting dynamic that isn’t explored as much as it should be. It’s a difficult dynamic, but it is so rewarding to write, read and experience. I wish you all the best ♥

[darlingshane]

The Icing on the Cake

Shane Walsh x F!Reader

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 2,6k

Summary: Shane's is full of surprises on your birthday :)

Content/Warnings: Smut, eating, cake, handcuffs, ice play, bj, dom/sub undertones.

– My Dear, Stefanie (@anna-hawk), as you can see, I wrote this with you in mind. This is my first attempt at writing a domme!reader, and I barely grazed the surface. I'm sure you would've taken this further, cause I know how much you like torture Shane, but please accept my humble take on this.

– Read below or at AO3.

Shane’s full of surprises on your birthday, but he wasn’t always exactly like that.

For what you’ve observed up until that moment, you’d never have pegged him as someone who easily submits or aims to please because he’s never cared that much to even try until now. In any aspect of his life, he always has to have the upper hand, but especially when it comes to dating. He’s shown clear signs of arrogance that often rubs you the wrong way in the few months you’ve been together. And both of you being every bit as stubborn as the other, you’re easy to clash every other week over petty issues. But whenever you fight it doesn’t take long to find a way to resolve that because let’s face it, the best part of arguing with him is the makeup sex.

On your special day, he proves that while yes, he can be unequivocally impertinent at times, he’s very thoughtful and sweet given the opportunity.

For starters, a couple of weeks ago, he offered to take care of all the details of your dinner party. You wanted something small at home with some friends, and he took over as planner and host for the evening, making sure you had everything you wanted for this particular day. Behind your back, he tried to adventure himself into baking a cake for the party to surprise you, but all his attempts didn't come up as he expected. He had limited time to learn and practice and while he lost the battle and gave up at the end, he saved the very last one he did to see what you thought. He set that one aside for the two of you, and ordered one from your favorite bakery to share with all your friends.

When the day comes, it's a lovely evening altogether with all your favorite people. The food is perfect. You gave Shane some pointers of what you wanted, and he did not disappoint at all. You could tell he was trying to impress you and turned on his charm up to eleven during dinner.

But if that’s not enough, he keeps upping himself and once everyone is gone he shows you something he’s made himself. A cake he kept hidden in a mystery box he put in your fridge earlier that day.

You watch his hands as they open the box on the counter to reveal the homemade cake.

“Don’t laugh. I've never baked before.”

“I’m not laughing,” but your mouth automatically curves, while you survey his creation.

It’s a simple chocolate cake, triple layered, a little uneven, with no decorations beyond the frosting and a single strawberry in the middle – and a lot of charm, you’d say. While it doesn't look the best, you really appreciate the effort he put into it.

“Are you sure you weren't baked when you did this?” You can't stop yourself from teasing him a bit.

He only rolls his eyes and sighs, “wanna try it or not?”

“I do! I'm sorry,” your hand squeezes his forearm softly. “Please, can I have some?”

“That's better,” scoffing, he slices a piece into a plate, and watches you as you bring a bite to your mouth, hoping it tastes better than it looks.

He did follow the recipe to the T. That was not the problem. It was the artistry that gave him a headache. But cake is cake no matter what, and as you savor it, you look at him wide-eyed, surprised by how good it tastes.

“Yeah?” the edges of his face soften, glancing at you bashfully.

“It’s fucking delicious,” your tongue swipes the chocolate from the corner of your mouth.

“Just like you,” he angles his face and presses a chaste kiss to your lips.

As you finish your slice, he goes ahead and rolls up his sleeves to help you clean up.

“You don't have to do that,” you tell him as he proceeds to wash the pile of dirty dishes, “you've already done enough, Shane.”

“I wanna,” he glances over his shoulder. “Go watch TV or something. Birthday girl shouldn't have to clean up.”

“Suit yourself,” you kiss his shoulder and retire to change into comfortable clothes and relax for a bit.

When he’s finished, he takes out the trash and comes back with something else he left in his car.

He sits on the coffee table and places another present in your hands that you eagerly open, only to be baffled quickly when discovering he got you a pair of handcuffs.

“What the hell am I supposed to do with these?”

“Whatever you want, darlin’,” his mouth pulls up at one of its corners, “you said once you wanted to tie me up –badly. Figured if you wanted to punish me for what I said the other day, this would be the perfect opportunity.”

“I mean… it doesn’t have to be a punishment. If I had to punish you for all the crap that comes out of your mouth, it'd take me a loooong time.”

“Suit yourself, but this is a one time offer, sweetheart. What's it gonna be?”

Your lips purse for a beat; with your mind already concocting a few ideas.

“If you're sure you can handle it, then I guess we could play with them.”

“Handle it?” he snorts, promptly standing up, beckoning you, “c'mon, let's see what you got, darlin’.”

Oh, he's in for a challenge, you realize.

Once you're in your bedroom, you have him strip down to his underwear in front of you while you observe how he follows your every order. This is something that you’ve always been partial to; having partners earning your affection by doing as you say is easily one of your biggest turn-ons, but not everyone is always willing to give up control like this, especially guys. Especially Shane Walsh, who surprises you once more tonight, fully offering his body for you to do as you please.

As you walk around him slowly, surveying every inch of his tall figure bathed in the light of your lamp, you pinch his butt to get a reaction out of him. He barely flinches and only licks his lips, entertained by how much you're enjoying yourself.

You order him to lay down on the bed and bring his arms over his head, and suddenly-overly-compliant Shane does as he’s told without questioning.

Once he’s taken that position, you crawl over his figure, straddling his toned abs as you secure his wrists with the handcuffs to one of the middle bars of the headboard.

“You’re having too much fun with this,” he chuckles.

“Oh, you have no idea, baby,” you purr in his ear, tugging the elastic of his boxers and releasing it to have it snap against his skin.

Then, you scoot backwards, climb out of the bed, and leave the room for a minute to gather something from the kitchen. In a small bowl, you put half a tray of ice-cubes to torture him a little.

“Jesus-Fucking-Christ,” he mutters when he realizes what you’re about to do.

“Language,” you scold, placing the bowl on the nightstand.

“I thought you said it didn’t have to be a punishment.”

“Changed my mind,” your lips curve up, as you proceed to remove all your clothes before climbing sensually back into bed, slinging your hips like a cat.

He mutters something as you settle on his thighs and get a hold of one ice-cube from the bowl. You hold it over his abs, without touching him yet.

“Just say the word and I won’t do it. But if you behave… I’ll give you a reward.”

“Like what?”

“I guess, you’ll have to trust me,” you wink at him. “What’s it going to be, lover boy?”

“Ice,” he exhales, offering his bare torso as he internally prepares for the change of temperature.

“Hmm, that's what I thought,” extremely pleased with his choice, you bring the ice cube to your mouth first and lick one of the sides before placing it on his navel.

His stomach hollows at the icy sensation, as you draw slow circles on his skin. By the way he breathes out, and his eyes flutter shut, you can tell he's already hard in anticipation of the newfound kink he didn't know he had. If you do it right, maybe he'd be open to repeating this again.

“You're so fucking gorgeous,” his breathing comes out a little shaky, as his eyes flick open.

“Did I tell you to speak?” questioning firmly, you purposely crease your brow.

“Ah, c'mon, I can't speak either?”

Clicking your tongue once, you shake your head and grab a second piece of ice from the bowl.

Holding it over his mouth, you ask him sternly to open it and when he does, you tuck it between his lips, so he can't utter a word while you have your fun.

“Do not drop it,” you reinforce before sliding the ice cube from his abdomen up his torso.

Leaving a trail of melted water on his skin, Shane shivers as the cube touches new spots, making his skin rise, and you can't help but smile at his reaction. You circle his wide pec a couple of times, and every time you graze his nipple, it earns you some delightful grunts around the cube that slowly thaws between his teeth.

You move it to the other side and repeat that action in the other half of his chest.

Having him like that is so much hotter than you ever thought, and he's surprisingly managing it better than you expected for someone who doesn’t like to surrender.

As a reward for behaving that well, you place the cube between your fingers aside and lean forward to lick the cold slickness around those sensitive peaks adorning his broad chest. The warmness of your tongue is a mercy, and he shuts his eyes for a moment, basking in that little treat as his whole body shudders beneath you.

Once you’re done with his nipples, you draw the curve of his neck and give him a few nibbles here and there on your way up to his mouth. With your lips, you remove the ice cube from him and lick it sensually as you set yourself straight, scooting forward on his lap until you're sitting right on his crotch that has grown considerably bigger since you started.

“Goddamn it, sweetheart. Are you trying to kill me here?”

Bringing a hand to your mouth, you laugh as you collect the remains of the cube on your palm and send it back into the bowl.

“What did I say about speaking?” you put a finger in the middle of his plush lips.

Knowing that he’s in big trouble again, he swallows his words.

You use that moment of unruliness to torture him for a little longer. Part of you wants to shove an ice cube in his underwear just to be mean. Instead, you forgo of that, and start moving your hips back and forth, rubbing yourself against his monumental erection.

With his eyes fixed on you, you bite your lip, pinch your own nipples and watch him writhe and groan underneath you. The rolling of your hips comes a little faster, getting your own arousal to stain his boxer briefs.

Bracing your palms on his chest, you keep rubbing yourself against him with passion, as he drinks you in, marveling at how fucking sexy you look on top of him. His hands pull on hard to get rid of their binds, desperately needing to touch you. That’s all he wants to do, and it drives him crazy not being able to fill his palms with your tits right now, and eat all his way down your body to taste the warmth of your pussy.

He has to put all his focus on holding the imminent orgasm that is held by only a shred of will. To avoid that, he clenches every muscle, and fucking prays in his head for you to finish before he does.

“Don’t fucking come until I tell you to,” you grumble firmly, noticing him already twitching between your legs.

You can tell he’s close, and it’s killing him that he can't complain either about your interesting approach. If he knows what's good, he’ll hold himself until the end.

Almost there yourself, as you work on your release, you throw your head back and use his swelling to shamelessly mark his underwear with all your juices as you get yourself off.

Letting out a long exhale, your body relaxes after the orgasm hits.

You lean forward again and utter right on his lips, “you better not have come when I take off these boxers. Have you?”

“Oh, may I speak now?”

“You may,” you scoff, amused. “Tell me, have you come or not?”

He considers for a moment, “you’ll have to see yourself.”

“Hmm,” with a questioning look, you peel down the band of his underwear to uncover his epic hard-on that's begging for a release. There's some wetness around the head, but surprisingly he hasn't come yet.

You can't help but tease him a little more as you use a finger to draw that straining vein that's close to burst. His cock jerks at the attention, making you laugh at how Shane mutters and presses his head against the pillow in total frustration. If he wasn't tied up he'd probably make you pay for that; but his new adopted position reminds him that it’s still your birthday, and you can do whatever you want with him, even when he's that close to losing it.

“Shh,” you hush, “it's time for your reward.”

As promised, you honor him for holding out so well by kneeling between his legs, so you can gratify him with your mouth. Without too much preamble, since you've tortured him enough, you draw a breath and dive right into it. Curling one hand around the underside, you sink your lips onto his length, and bob your head gradually faster, sucking the life out of him with every stroke and lick your tongue provides.

Given his state, getting him off is a piece of cake.

His pleasure produces heavenly sounds, as his hips move upwards, thrusting into your mouth to have his dick touch the back of your throat. It all fuels your burning desire to blow him harder until his orgasm reaches its crest, leaving your tongue covered in cum in its wake. You relish in those strings of seed, licking your lips and swallowing, as you pull your head back to see him completely overcome by pure ecstasy.

His body relaxes, as you move to rest on top of his heaving chest. He barely registers when you reach for the key and unlock his hands, and keeps them above his head for a long moment before realizing he's finally free.

With a dopey smile, he wraps his arms around you as you pillow your head on his shoulder, watching him come down for his high.

“We should do this more often,” it comes out hoarse, and he clears his throat.

Your hand is holding his jaw, as you guide his face to the side to have him lock eyes with you, “yeah? You liked that?”

“I… probably more than I expected,” he admits.

“Even the ice?”

“Even the ice. But not as much as those lips of yours,” beyond satisfied, he then brings a hand to your face, and his thumb tugs and releases your bottom lip, “what you did at the end… That was the icing on the cake, sweetheart.”

[anincompletelist]

rwrb fic recs round two! :D

HELLO! I was going to wait a bit longer before doing another rec, but I've read some phenomenal works lately and I wanted to share!

as always, if you feel inclined to share your own recs or even self-promote, please do! also, please remember to be kind and give back when possible by sharing fics, commenting, leaving kudos, or reaching out to the author to let them know that you enjoyed! happy early thanksgiving and all ;)

thank you again to these authors, as well as anyone who makes content for this lovely little corner of the internet. your work and art continues to get me through the persistently dark days, and I am eternally grateful to get to be privy to your talent and labors of love!

I hope you're all doing well, and happy reading! <3

in no particular order --

I Knew You Were Trouble When You Walked In | doeyedgirlyevil | E | 42k | WIP

There he stood. Frozen. In the presence of a man who Henry was willing to swear before Queen and country, under pain of death, was the single most beautiful person on the face of the planet, and possibly several galaxies beyond. A man who possessed the kind of magnetic pull that could persuade Henry to believe in a Catholic God. A man Henry needed to get at least 800 kilometres away from before he caused an international scandal in a tea room at Kensington Palace. - Henry has a new equerry. And he's too hot for Henry's fragile, gay heart to handle. (AKA the Alex as Henry's equerry AU that I'm sure someone asked for)

+

Mr. Party Hardy | @inexplicablymine | T+ | 7k

Delicate isn’t the kind of word that would describe Alex Claremont-Díaz, not in this world or any other. He is fiery passion and loud excited exhaltations on whatever subject has currently caught his fancy. He is explosive lacrosse plays, the effusive energy he’s told he radiates. Nobody has ever treated him like he is something delicate, soft. Someone who needs a “Caution: Handle with Care” sign. He didn’t realize he needed that kind of care so badly. But Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor does that and then some.  A look into what college parties look like for Mr. Party Hardy B.H. (before Henry) and A.H. (after Henry)

+

the clementine thing | anonymous | 6k | T+

And, really, it doesn’t matter whether or not Alex explains it to Liam and the rest of his friends. They’ve never really discussed it between themselves through the years. Slowly, Alex had gone from asking Would you please peel this for me? to Please? to silently extending the citrus without any comment at all, just a soft smile. It’s one of the things that make them Alex-and-Henry; the silent conversations and the contentment in each other’s company. Now, as Alex starts to flourish through his position on the lacrosse team, his slew of AP classes, and his role in student government, getting him to slow down at all is a feat. The only way that Henry can do it, guaranteed, is by one of those innocuous little fruits. There’s nothing Alex can’t do—surely, he could peel a fucking orange if he felt so inclined—but Henry delights in being able to do this for him. (Five times Henry shares a clementine with Alex, and one time Alex returns the favor)

+

they're gonna watch me disappear into the sun | @raysletters | 18k | M

Alex and Henry have been living together for four months already, and they couldn't be happier.

It all crumbles down when one morning, Henry is rushed to the hospital.

+

get him alone | @congee4lunch | 103k | E

Alex looks at him, like Henry’s a speck of dirt on his pristine chinos. “Why would June send you to check up on me?” “Because I’m her best friend and you’re her brother?” “I always said she has bad taste.” “Well,” Henry smiles. It feels as placid on his face as it probably looks. “I would say the same thing, but family doesn’t account for one’s taste, unfortunately.”

(in which henry fox is june’s childhood best friend and alex claremont-diaz is june’s younger brother. as the years pass, they tolerate each other at best and are downright destructive at worst. until they begin falling into each other's beds.)

+

the beagle, the ghost, and the wardrobe | @dumbpeachjuice | 11k | M

Henry’s new flat comes with one unexpected feature: it’s already inhabited. But not by a human. By a ghost.

+

that's all for now! I want to do another one of these very soon once the halloween, huh fics have been revealed! until then! happy reading! :D

-- anincompletelist / sarah