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ohsc · 4 months ago

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₊˚⊹♡ mean | sam winchester x reader

requested - heyy could u make a sam x reader thing where he fucks rlly roughly but he’s really sweet during aftercare bc the idea that sam is rough during but sweet after makes me weak in the knees🫠🙏 (anon)

a/n - this is. probably the most filthy thing i’ve written. it’s just filthy smut. with a hint of sweetheart sam at the end. i need him so bad it’s not funny. still working on my longer plot fics but i wanted to get this out today to get back into writing!! hopefully you enjoy :) would very much appreciate feedback! <3

cws - fem!reader, 2.4k, nsfw 18+, meandom!sam turned soft!sam, oral f!recieving, praise, very mild choking, condescending words, p in v, mild overstimulation, tears, aftercare, fluff

other fics can be found on my masterlist

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

She was convinced that Sam’s mouth was a whole new kind of heaven.

He’d already made her cum once with his mouth alone, large hands pressed into the plush of her thighs to keep them spread, her hips stilled, which were twitching with every sweep of his tongue. He was skilled, drawing the pleasure out of her like it was nothing. Sam had easily spent fifteen minutes down there, eating her out like a starved man, like it was all he wanted.

And she didn’t know how she was still breathing. There was a relief that ran through her that Dean and Castiel weren’t in the bunker that night, because even though they were shut away in the privacy of their room, she was sure that she would’ve been heard. Sam had been pulling noises out of her all night, obscene lewd sounds that she would’ve been embarrassed about being heard if it wasn’t Sam with her.

He always made sure that as much as he made her feel, none of it was embarrassment.

His tongue flattened against her, licking a stripe up between her folds until he pressed against her clit and she shuddered, a horribly whiny sound pushed from her lungs when he closed his lips around the bead and sucked, like he was trying to pull the life out of her. Her hips jolted, unable to go anywhere as he had her pinned down, and she was practically seeing stars as Sam worked down there. She wondered if he was even breathing.

“Sam- oh my god—” She whimpered, hissed in a breath when he licked back down to her entrance and his nose nudged against her clit, stomach clenching as she reached her hands down to grasp onto his hair, fingers curled into the soft strands.

And then he pulled away.

His hands left her thighs as his mouth left her, but she didn’t have time to whine her complaints at the loss of sensation as his long fingers curled around her wrists, yanked her hands out of his hair. “What did I say, huh?” The tone of voice made her pussy clench around nothing. “Hands to yourself. You’re pretty bad at listening, baby.”

Sam shifted over her, his face over hers as he pushed her wrists down onto the pillows above her head, and she almost squirmed when she saw the look in his eyes, the way his lips were wet with her.

“Are you listening?” He squeezed her wrists as a reminder, and her eyes quickly flickered back up to his eyes. “Do I need to tie you up, or will you keep these here for me?” She knew he wouldn’t hesitate to do it. Sam could be such a soft lover — he’d kiss every inch of her skin, whisper praises and compliments, tell her he loved her a thousand times as he made love to her. But he could also be like this, mean and demanding as he fucked her silly over and over. She wasn’t sure which she liked more.

“I’ll keep them there.” She breathed out, her voice still a little too whiny. He’d gotten her so close to cumming again, the lack of stimulation was driving her crazy, her cunt throbbed as she stared up at him.

“Oh yeah?” Sam narrowed his eyes like he didn’t believe her, and let go of one of her wrists to take both into one of his large hands. Her eyes left his face to follow his second as it dipped down between them, fingering at the waistband of his boxers, until she heard a sharp, “eyes on me.”

Her gaze quickly flickered back up to his face. “See? You can be good sometimes, can’t you?” Sam cooed, boardering on condescending, as he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her mouth, allowing her to taste herself. “You just need some reminding, don’t you, sweetheart? Get so lost in that pretty little head of yours when I’m making you feel so good.”

She’d been so distracted by watching his face, head spinning with his words, that she didn’t realise that he’d freed himself from his boxers until she felt the head of his cock nudging between her folds, gliding easily against her with the slick and spit collected there, and she mewled at the feeling, eyes squeezed shut as he nudged at her clit.

“Eyes open,” his hands left her wrists — which she knew now to keep still — and his fingers splayed across her jaw, squeezing unkindly until she looked up again. “Don’t make me tell you again. You wanna be good for me, don’t you?”

She nodded dumbly, sucked in a sharp breath through her teeth as he rubbed her clit with his cock. Teasing her. “Mhm, I will.”

“You will?” Sam gave her jaw one more squeeze, just for good measure, before he wrapped his fingers around the bare skin of her throat. He didn’t squeeze, didn’t put any pressure, just held her, but the threat was there. The head of his cock rested up against her slickened entrance as his head dipped down, lips brushed her ear as he whispered, “what’s your colour?”

They had a pretty rigid safe word system set out — it was something he went over with her every time they had sex, especially like this, when he was mean and grabby and knew that she wouldn’t like it every time. If she so much whispered the word red he’d be up and off of her before she could blink.

But all that left her words was a whiny, “Green, please Sammy.”

She felt his lips curve up against her ear as he smirked. “Good girl.”

Without warning he pushed into her and she sucked in a sharp breath, her own fingers grabbed at each other in an attempt to keep her hands still, and she shoved a breath out of her throat. He’d worked her open with his fingers when he’d been settled down between her legs, but she still felt the stretch, the burn as he settled his cock deep inside of her, and for a moment she had to remember to breathe back in.

“Fuck honey,” he grunted in her ear, fingers gripped her throat just slightly tighter, still only enough for her to feel pressure. “So tight for me, baby. Can barely take it, huh?”

He pulled back before he rutted back inside and she whimpered, squeezing her own fingers together so tightly so she didn’t break his rule. Needing to hold onto him somehow, though, her thighs clamped harshly around his hips, already trembly from the first orgasm he’d pulled from her.

He thrust in again, and again, and again, and soon she saw stars, gasping and whimpering with every drag of his cock against her gummy walls, pleasure rippling through her in waves that made her stomach clench, her cunt clamped down so tightly around him it was a wonder he could move at all.

“So noisy baby,” he crooned on a particular harsh thrust that made her whine, fingers a little tighter around her throat. “Can’t help yourself, can you?” He huffed with another thrust. “Need me to do all the work, hm? Greedy—” he grunted, “greedy girl.”

It took an embarrassingly short time for her to get close again. Sam was fucking her with determination, grunted every time he pushed himself back in, the head of his cock nudged the soft spongey spot inside of her that made her shudder again and again and again until she was a mess beneath him, lewd wet sounds accompanying her whimpers with each shift of his hips, her pussy fluttering around the stretch of his girth.

He didn’t slow down, didn’t ease up, didn’t give her a breather. She was close to tears by the time she was almost there, already sensitive from her first orgasm.

She clenched around him and his fingers, in turn, tightened on the sides of her throat. She trusted him, she knew he wouldn’t push it too far. Just enough for her to feel a little dizzy, for the bliss to wash over her like a high.

“Sam- mm- Sammy—” She was practically blabbering as her eyes filled with tears, gasping with each thrust, each smack of his hips against hers.

“Oh honey,” he cooed, condescending, mean. “Too much, hm? Need something?”

His hand loosened on her throat and she inhaled a little shakily.

“Please—” she whined, blinking through tears up at him. She didn’t miss the flicker in his eyes as the tears dribbled down her cheeks, but she knew that he knew she’d tell him if it was too much. It had happened before, neither of them messed around when it came to their safe words.

“Please what, huh?” He thrust in harshly and she groaned, cunt fluttering, so close— “Ah-ah, not yet. Don’t you need to ask me something, dolly?” He squeezed her throat once. “You remember what happens if you cum without asking, don’t you?”

Of course she did. The week prior she’d cum too soon, and he spent the next what felt like hours edging her, too skilled with his fingers, words too filthy that they made her head spin. He’d made such a mess of her that she hadn’t been able to even get up off of the bed for a little while after he finally let her cum.

“Mhm, mm, yeah—” she inhaled shakily, whining, thighs clamped tighter around his hips. “Please- please can I- please let me—” she groaned.

“Let you what?” He was dragging it out, the fucker, grunting into her ear as he leaned down over her, pushed his cock so deep her vision almost whitened out. “Tell me, honey. Use those words for me, c’mon.”

The tears were bubbling over faster, rolling down her flushed cheeks. “Let me cum, baby, please.”

“Asking so nicely,” he grunted, pressed a kiss to the shell of her ear. “How can I say no to something so pretty, hm? ‘Course you can, baby, go ahead.”

It wasn’t his words that did it for her, but the hand that snuck between them and pressed down on her stomach, the press of his cock suddenly so much more delicious that she almost fucking fainted.

She came with a breathless whine, hips jerked as she finally gasped a breath and whined again, her cunt throbbed around his cock as he kept pumping, rode her through it entirely. Her head tipped back, his mouth on her neck as her eyes squeezed shut, colours danced on the inside of her eyelids, her own little fireworks display.

Sam came shortly after, groaned into her ear in a way that almost made her cum again, and he rutted into her a few more times before he stopped, warmth spreading through her as he panted against her shoulder.

“Fuck,” he huffed, his own chest heaved, brushing against her bare skin. “Oh sweetheart.” The shift in his demeanour was palpable, soft kisses immediately littered across her shoulder and collarbone, palms flattened to smooth over her sweat-dampened skin. He could be so mean in the moment, so dominating and controlling that he left her a fucking mess underneath him, but afterwards? He’d probably feed her grapes and fan her if she asked him to.

She was still gasping for breath, head spinning, and when she knew she wouldn’t be told off for it her hands lifted, immediately clung to his warm shoulders. She loved the way his shoulders felt underneath her touch, muscles rippling with every movement.

Sam kissed up her throat and jaw before he landed on her mouth, and he kissed her slowly, huffed breaths into each other's mouths as he licked between her lips, sweeped behind her top teeth, their lips both wet with spit.

By the time he had pulled away, he’d so thoroughly kissed her that she almost had her breath back.

“You okay?” His voice was so soft it was like there was an entirely different person on top of her compared to five minutes prior. His hand left her throat, smoothed upwards and cupped her jaw. She felt him thumb away tears that had fallen, some clung to her eyelashes, somewhat cool against her hot and flushed skin.

She nodded as she stroked her fingertips along his shoulders with her fingertips, like she’d committed him to memory. She had.

“Hey,” he lightly tapped her cheekbone with his thumb. “Need words, honey.”

She couldn’t help her smile. He was so caring she sometimes wanted to cry. “M’okay,” she whispered, voice soft like she’d shared a secret. “Really good. You’re so good, Sammy.” She praised, tilted her head to kiss his wrist, and he smiled and blushed like he hadn’t just been the one to fuck the life out of her.

“Says you,” Sam leaned down and kissed her forehead. “You’re perfect. Love you,” another kiss. “Love you so much.”

She smiled so much her cheeks hurt. “Love you too.”

Sam smiled too, that soft smile that made his dimples peek out, eyes crinkled at the corners, and he stroked her cheekbone again. “M’gonna pull out, okay?”

Only when she nodded did he shift, slowly pulled his hips back until she was empty, until all she could feel was the wetness coated between her thighs.

“Christ, made a mess of you,” he murmured, not in the condescending tone from before, instead something closer to admiration. “You’re so pretty when you cum, y’know that?”

She blushed, hard, and shrugged as her cheek dipped to meet her shoulder.

Sam laughed, rolled his eyes as he leaned in and kissed her again. “Don’t get all shy on me now.”

She was still blushing when he helped her sit up, fingers delicately curled around her elbows to pull her upright, her back also damp with sweat. They’d need to change the sheets.

“Two options,” Sam murmured as he gently stroked hair away that was stuck to her forehead, baby hairs that clung to her temples. “We take a shower and let me wash your hair and then go get food, or you let me run you a bath and you wait there looking all pretty for me while I get you something we can eat in there so I can dote on you.”

“You just wanna wash my hair huh?”

Sam smiled. “Guilty.”

Her fingers found his, intertwined with a squeeze. “Bath sounds nice,” she eventually settled on. “As long as you don’t take too long in the kitchen. I’ll miss you.”

He was laughing when he pressed another kiss to her mouth. “Of course. Promise to not take too long, okay?”

She giggled and nodded, smiled against his mouth when he kissed her again. “Okay.”

#sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x y/n #sam winchester x you #sam winchester fluff #sam winchester smut #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester drabble #sam winchester oneshot #sam winchester fic #sam winchester fanfiction #spn #spn x reader #spn one shot #supernatural #supernatural x reader #supernatural one shot

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kairoot · 4 months ago

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── ࣪ ˖ ❛ 𝓜𝑎𝑘𝑒𝑢𝑝 𝓥𝑜𝑖𝑐𝑒𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑠．

‧₊˚ 𝓼𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: they do the voiceover for your makeup routine 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 : enha x 𝑓．𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲 : fluff , crack 𝗿𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗱 : no 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 : jokes, profanity, pet names, this was shorter than i intended, some of these are kind of inspired by some tiktoks i saw.

— ( 𝓂𝑖𝑙𝑎𝑛’𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒𝑠 ) : pls leave reblogs, they are much appreciated !! ♡︎

✿ member’s headcanons under the cut !!

⊹ 𝓁ℎ𝑠．

asking hee to do this was a piece of cake

he agreed to it immediately

he lovesssss watching you do your makeup

so when you asked him he was like, “well.. yes!”

gonna keep it real with you, he has absolutely no idea what ANYTHING is

he just knows the things that he buys for you and that’s it

flirty mcbirdy over here, he’s barely even watching the makeup, mostly watching you

“hi guys, today i’m doing my girlfriend’s makeup voiceover.” he says into the mic, the video starting with you priming your face as you’ve already did skincare prior to starting the video.

you were next to him while he narrated your routine, holding in your giggles as he began naming the products that you were using.

“okay so now she’s uhm.. damn she’s gorgeous..” he paused for a moment, watching you through the screen as you applied the first product of your base.

you nudged him, urging him to stay on topic as your face began to warm up.

“she’s applying, uh— the— the..” he thought for a moment, the product seemed familiar but he couldn’t think of the name.

it was foundation.

“and then she’s.. wiping it all over her face.” he mumbled, still not paying attention to what you were doing but admiring you instead.

“it’s blending, hee..” you whispered, not wanting the mic to pick up your voice.

expect the comments to go insane about hee’s little flirtatious comments.

⊹ 𝓅𝑗𝑠．

ngl, he’s a bit confused as to why you asked him to do this but he says yes anyway

why does this man actually know what the products are??

quite literally does the whole voiceover better than any beauty influencer you’ve ever seen..

compliments you throughout the video

he’s literally so polite

“hello everyone, today y/n has asked me to do her voiceover, so here i am!” he says excitedly, watching you apply the first product.

“so here, she’s putting some of the foundation in her t-zone.. she has really great skin.” he explains.

you’re sat next to him, shocked at how he’s able to understand the whole routine.

“after she blends, she goes in with her.. concealer, i think.” he was right again.

as you blend that out, jay begins talking about the product that you’re using.

“yes, i pay attention to my girl’s routine.” he says, knowing everyone’s gonna wonder how he could even know all of this. you bite back a smile, his comment making your heart warm.

now the whole internet wants a boyfriend like jay.

⊹ 𝓈𝑗𝑦．

he is very eager to do it. why? because he loves you and is so down bad for you

ummm he knows NOTHINGGG about makeup 😫

another flirty one

count how many times he says he wants to kiss you or compliments your lips challenge (jake is so weak for kisses, you cannot convince me otherwise)

he’s so giggly throughout the whole thing ??

he definitely gets flustered over your beauty, esp your bareface <3

he’s lowkey your hype man even though he has no idea what he’s talking abt

“hey guys, it’s jake! today i’m gonna give you all a tutorial for y/n’s everyday makeup.” he beamed confidently. he watched you start your routine, already giggling at the small things you do throughout the first 30 seconds.

“so she’s gonna start with, um..” his giggles cutting him off. “she’s starting with the putty stuff. it kind of looks like play-doh!”

“jake!” you nudge him a bit, rolling your eyes playfully.

“sorry, sorry!” he laughs. “now she’s putting on.. powder? wait, no, that’s definitely bronzer.”

“yeahh, apply that bronzer, babe!” he exclaimed.

it was powder foundation ??

“she looks so good already, wanna give her a kiss..” he said, watching you pat the product onto your skin.

⊹ 𝓅𝑠ℎ．

bro is so impatient

he can’t think of any of the name of the products that you’re using which frustrates him to the MAX

pls don’t laugh at him, he will sulk 😕

cracks jokes abt how long you take

“now she’s applying.. uhm, glitter?” he tilted his head, watching you apply highlighter to the inner corners of your eyes.

“highlighter, babe.” you corrected him, holding back your laughs.

“whatever it is, it’s very shiny. and she’s putting it on so do whatever she’s doing if you want this look.”

you snorted a bit, finding his impatience hilarious.

“watch as she puts on her favorite mascara that she made me buy her.. because she doesn’t care about my pockets or if i go broke.” he sighed.

you landed a playful smack to his shoulder, scoffing.

“anyways, she takes forever.” he huffed. “she told me she was gonna be ready in 10 minutes but 10 minutes turned into two hours, so i guess im gonna have to wait.”

please don’t ever ask him to do this again.

⊹ 𝓀𝑠𝑤．

like jay, he knows what everything is

he’s actually really excited to do this

he pays attention when you do your makeup and pays attention when he gets his makeup done so

he basically knows what everything is he just.. doesn’t know how to do it

he knows all of your favorite products

count how many times he calls you pretty challenge:

“look at how pretty she is!” he exclaims as you prime your face. “i did her skin care by the way.”

he watched as you applied your concealer, telling the viewers exactly what brand it was and what it did for your skin.

“i’m pretty sure this is her favorite product.”

“okay! next she’s gonna set with this one powder that she absolutely loves.” he giggled.

you chuckle at his excitement, not expecting him to like this as much as he did. you just knew people would want more of him narrating your routines and grwms.

“and now, she’s putting on her blush.. I love this part.” he said, mesmerized by you and your features.

“isn’t she so pretty?”

⊹ 𝓎𝑗𝑤．

he’s so confused

tbh he just yaps the whole time

you don’t know what he’s talking about, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about..

he just knows that he buys some of the stuff

he gives random facts throughout the video ??

“okay, so i’m not really sure of what she’s putting on her face right now..” he said, scratching his head slightly.

“did you guys know that dolphins name each other?”

“jungwon..?” you furrow your eyebrows, looking at him confusingly.

“oh, right! sorry, now she’s applying some.. nose.. stuff?”

you mentally face palmed at his attempt to name the products, which he ended up wrong every time.

“if it wasn’t already obvious, i know none of these things, i just get whatever she tells me to buy.” jungwon giggled, watching you apply your blush.

please DO NOT let him do this ever again 😭🙏🏽

⊹ 𝓃𝑟𝑘．

bro does NOT wanna be here

he doesn’t wanna do it at all 😭

but somehow you convince him (you told him you’d buy him robux)

he guesses everything

some of it he gets right somehow

gets so triggered when you laugh at him 😭

“um, okay, she’s applying concealer.. that’s concealer, right?” he looked over at you, as the video showed you applying the product.

you looked at him, giggling.

“why are you laughing? is that not concealer?” he asked again, becoming irritated.

“yes.. just keep going, ki.” you cover up your laughs.

he rolls his eyes playfully, “anyways, now she’s putting on some powder shit.. i don’t know.”

“and she’s.. beating it on her face..? why are you punching yourself?” he quirks an eyebrow.

you shake your head, sighing at his confusion.

✿

TAGLIST: @haechansbbg @contyynishimura @sasfransisco @kgneptun @jungwonderz @enha-stars @dioll @jakesangel @cupidscourt @violetwitchmcu @haohaoshoe @randomgirl02228 @wonsdoll @powerpuffstuts @flwrstqr @elysianiki — send an ask to join.

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ellecdc · 5 months ago

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hi! i absolutely love your works, particularly your poly!marauders(w/lily). i think you write them so beautifully and harmoniously that you can't help but fall in love with them.

i wanna compliment you on your recent two-parter about remus and the whole revealing the werewolf thing. the angst to fluff had me on the edge of my seat. thank you for writing such a piece! 🤍

i hope its not too much to ask but in part 1, there's a brief mention of sirius receiving letters from i can assume is his family that lily confiscates and the group tends to love on him a bit more. let's say reader isn't in the loop about sirius' family life and she feels a bit sad that she can't comfort sirius like the rest can, and in general feels lost because it's another thing she isn't 'let in on'. i was wondering if you could write a little something on that? maybe some misunderstandings with a fluffy ending?

i hope this is something you're ok w writing 🥹 if not, its ok! still wish u the best always!

this is so sweet - thank you! & thanks for your request - hope you like it!!

pt 1 // pt 2 // pt 3 // pt 4 // pt 5

poly!marauders + lily x fem!reader who find's her own way to comfort Sirius - 2.1k

CW: brief mention of Sirius' childhood, allusions to anxiety, our shy Hufflepuff reader, hurt comfort, Sirius-centric

There was this saying that you never really understood before.

Love makes you do crazy things.

And while the definition of crazy may be up for debate, you’re quite sure it could be understood as acting completely out of character.

So here you were, acting completely out of character; voluntarily marching towards a secluded end of the library where three Slytherin’s were sitting that you had - up until this point - managed to avoid completely.

But you couldn’t, wouldn’t, avoid them any longer; not now, not for Sirius.

The dust settled relatively well after the news of Remus’ lycanthropy had been shared with you; the five of you seemed to find a sort of freedom in not having to hide from one another anymore. Remus could be himself, the other’s could love him appropriately, and you could too.

But another one of those black envelopes with a green wax seal showed up at breakfast yesterday, and the group delved into their usual hide-the-envelope-and-coddle-Sirius practice.

Lily took the envelope and disposed of it, James and Sirius had a floo call with the Potter’s, and Remus’ mum and dad sent baked goods from Wales via owl.

You had since gathered that these letters were coming from his parents, or at the very least from someone in the Black family; you had also gathered that the contents of the letter’s were hurtful or upsetting to Sirius. And even though he never got to read them, a heavy cloud seemed to form and follow the young ex-heir around.

And your heart felt heavy; not because they were keeping anything from you, per se, but rather because they seemed to have a routine that didn’t include you.

And while you didn’t want to encroach in spaces that you weren’t necessarily invited in, you couldn’t help but feel like you should be doing more.

Lily, James, and Remus all had something they could offer Sirius; they all had some way that they could support him.

You didn’t.

And it wasn’t for a lack of trying on your part, but rather that no one seemed particularly inclined to burden you with any negativity.

“Don’t worry about me, babydoll; this is standard Black stuff. I’ll be just fine.” Sirius had said when you asked if he was okay; his usual salacious smile significantly dimmed as it seemingly took the majority of his effort in his response.

The others hadn’t been much help either; Remus and James effectively telling you that you were too sweet to have to worry about such horrid people, and Lily trying to assure you that they had it under control and not to worry - Sirius would be okay.

And that was all well and good, but it wasn’t enough for you - it was about sodding time you started pulling your weight in this relationship.

So - with nothing more than the teeniest bit of courage you were sure you pilfered from your four Gryffindors and perhaps a healthy dose of delusion - you forced your feet to take you in the direction of the only person in the entire castle you thought might possibly be able to help you.

“My, my, my; to what do we owe the absolute pleasure, little Puffle?” Barty Crouch Junior mocked as you paused at their table; Evan Rosier and Regulus Black picking their heads up to look at you incredulously and bemusedly respectful.

“Did ya get lost there, L/N? Need me to find you one of your Gryffindor’s?” Evan taunted, earning him what looked like a kick in the shin from Regulus, though you couldn’t be certain on account of the table impeding your view.

“Erm…I-I was sort of wondering if I could speak with you, Regulus?” You managed to murmur awkwardly.

The three Slytherin’s seemed to have a silent conversation as they shared glances before Barty shrugged and Evan rolled his eyes; both standing and leaving the two of you some privacy.

Regulus watched as you cast a hasty muffliato around the table - another trick you’d picked up from the Gryffindor’s - and as you helped yourself to a seat with your boyfriend’s younger brother.

“Is Sirius okay?” Regulus asked quickly, his voice no more than an urgent whisper as he looked at you imploringly.

His intensity caught you off guard; you were so certain getting anything out of the notoriously stand-offish Slytherin would be next to impossible, but he had beat you to the conversation and seemed to be just as worried about his brother as you were.

You remembered then why you liked Slytherin’s so much; you often found a kindred spirit in them, for one thing that a Slytherin valued most was a sense of loyalty.

Well, didn’t you have enough loyalty to use to your advantage.

You wondered rather belatedly if you had overstepped. It was admittedly too late to ask yourself this now; standing outside of the boys’ dorm with a package in your hand.

What’s done is done. You had a one-track mind, and that was to help Sirius.

With this, you raised your hand and gently knocked on the door.

It had been James to open the door; his jaw tense until he saw you, which seemed to cause his face to melt into an awkward expression you couldn’t quite decipher.

“Hi angel.” He greeted apologetically. “You okay?”

You were confused by his greeting, and his question, and the fact that he hadn’t moved out of the way of the door to invite you in as he usually did.

“I’m fine.” You responded quickly, trying to look behind him. “What’s wrong?”

James made a sound of discomfort in the back of his throat as he looked over his shoulder, still not moving to allow you entry.

“Listen, sweetheart; I’m not sure now is a great time…”

“It’s Sirius, is it?” You asked quickly. His responding grimace proving your suspicions. “I need to see him.”

“Sweets, maybe you could come back la-”

But later wasn’t good enough, you see. You had a one-track mind, and that was to help Sirius.

So, in the name of love making you do crazy things and still acting completely out of character for you, you shoved your way past James’ hip, bending under his arm to allow yourself your own entrance to the boys’ dormitory.

Lily sat at the end of Sirius’ bed where she had one hand resting on his ankle; her thumb stroking back-and-forth over his achilles tendon.

Remus sat against the headboard with Sirius in his arms; his lips pressed against his hair as he murmured sweet nothings to him.

And as you stepped closer, you could see an indent where James had been sitting, opposite of Lily likely serving the same support as your red-headed girlfriend.

“Siri?” You asked quietly, causing him to stiffen significantly before sitting up and feigning nonchalance.

“Hi doll.” He croaked then, wiping angrily at the tear tracks on his face and pasting on a smile. “Didn’t mean for you to see me like this. What’s up?”

You hated the faux blase act he was putting on for your sake, but you reminded yourself why you were here.

To help.

“I have something for you.” You offered quietly, procuring the parchment wrapped package and holding it out for him.

“Awe.” He chuckled wetly with a sniffle. “You didn’t need to get me anything.”

“Well, I suppose I can’t take all the credit for it.” You replied, watching him pause in the process of opening to look at you in confusion.

“Open it.” You encouraged.

He finished ripping the parchment from the box before lifting the lid.

You felt your heart stop as the lid fell unceremoniously from his hands and a small gasp left his lips at the sight of the small, stuffed black cat sitting inside.

You’d spent the afternoon learning about the tail of two toys; Splash the cat and Padfoot the dog. The only toys the two young Black family boys were given came from their Uncle Alphard in the form of a plush cat and a plush dog; both with black fur as a nod to the family name and the boys’ hair colour.

Even though Uncle Alphard had given the dog to Sirius and the cat to Regulus, the boys often traded, depending on their current circumstances.

You learned that when Sirius went to Hogwarts, he had left with the cat.

When he returned home after having been sorted into the wrong house, Regulus had given him the dog.

And when Regulus joined Sirius at Hogwarts only to be ripped from his brother - possibly for good - after being sorted into Slytherin, he pilfered the dog from Sirius and left him with the cat.

They never discussed those plush toys again.

And when Sirius fled Grimmauld place one horrible night in June between fifth and sixth year, he left with nothing but his wand, the clothes on his back, and his school trunk.

Left behind was poor Splash the cat.

Regulus - fearing his mother would go on a warpath and completely destroy everything in Sirius’ room - quickly grabbed the cat and had kept it hidden in his school trunk ever since.

Until today. Until now.

Now, he left Splash with you; trusting that you would return him to his person, the one who needed him the most.

“How…” Sirius whispered as he quietly pulled the plush toy from the box; hands painfully gentle as if the toy would simply turn to ash should he jostle it. “Where did you get this?”

“I didn’t steal it, if that’s what you’re asking.” You tried to joke in an attempt to keep the moment light. Sirius simply turned his disbelieving gaze from the toy to you.

“You spoke with him?”

Suddenly, your fears that you had completely overstepped came flooding back; a nervous sort of nausea settling deep within your stomach that threatened to make this awkward moment horribly worse.

“I…I did- I didn’t say anything, of course! Because there was nothing to say, because I don’t actually know anything, which is fine too! I just…I couldn’t…well, you see, I just had to do something, you know? I couldn’t just-”

Your ramblings were (thankfully) cut off when the air nearly completely left your lungs as Sirius attached himself to your middle; his arms winding tightly around your body where they met in the middle of your back. You could feel the impression of Splash against your back from where he was still in Sirius’ grasp.

“I’m sorry if I upset you - I know it wasn’t my place, but-”

“You’re incredible.” Sirius whispered then. “I can’t believe you’d do this for me.”

“You’re not mad?” You whispered back, causing Sirius to pull away from you, only far enough to be able to look into your eyes with ill-hidden admiration.

“My sweet shy girl; approaching Slytherin’s for me.” He murmured, causing Remus and Lily to snort and James to gawk.

“You did what!?”

“You do know that a quarter of our school is made up of Slytherin’s, right?” You asked James then; Sirius pulling you back into his chest when you dared to remove your gaze from him.

“That’s entirely too many Slytherin’s, my girl.” James muttered, though he relented in his admonishment of you for your crime of daring to speak to your classmates in order to sit beside your other two lovers.

“I can’t believe he gave this to you.” Sirius whispered; holding the cat up behind your back so he could examine it over your shoulder.

“He didn’t give it to me, Sirius.” You whispered back as you pulled away from him so you could look into his eyes. “You have a lot of people in your corner; more than you know.”

His eyes seemed to well again, though he didn’t look nearly as heartbroken as he did when you first walked in, so you counted that as a win.

“What did I do to deserve you, hm?” He asked then before pressing a lingering kiss to your lips.

You’re sure you could have counted at least seventeen ways in which Sirius Black deserved the nicest things you had to offer, but right now you were more focused on the feel of his lips against yours.

If love made you do crazy things, and those crazy things brought you to this; this being Sirius moulding himself to you as if he hoped he could make a home for himself inside of your soul, then you would happily spend the rest of you life mad as one could be.

You hadn’t fixed anything, not by a longshot; but you had helped, even if only just a little.

His lips tasted of salt and perhaps some sadness, but also of hope.

And for now, that was enough.

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moonstruckme · 6 months ago

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summary: your roommate James plots to befriend a shy you

part 1 │ part 2 │ part 3 │ part 4 │part 5 │ part 6 │ part 7 │ part 8 │ part 9 │ part 10 │ part 11 │ part 12 │ part 13

roommate!James x shy!reader ♡ 1k words

The apartment is loud and messy when you come home, and James immediately feels bad about it. You freeze in the door like a doe in the woods, a few of his friends pausing their conversations to greet you from where they’re scattered haphazardly about the living room.

You give a terse smile and beeline for the stairs. You’re wearing your work clothes, dirty and rumpled from a long shift, and it doesn’t escape James’ notice that you’ve bypassed the kitchen in your hurry to get to your room. You seem to have an aversion to being witnessed. He makes a mental note to check that you’ve eaten later.

“Oh, do you work at Rizzo’s?” Lily asks you, evidently recognizing the uniform. You stall halfway up the stairs, and James suppresses a smile at your obvious reluctance.

“Yeah,” you reply, voice even quieter than usual.

“My friend works there.” Lily’s friendly demeanor is unphased by your timidity. The two of you have met before, like you’ve met most of his friends, in passing. “Do you know Mona?”

You nod, easing up a bit. James wonders at the fact that you’ve lingered as long as you have, but then he notices Sirius noticing you, and he prays his friend doesn’t say anything to make you regret it.

“Yeah, we’ve worked some of the same shifts,” you say. “She’s nice.”

Lily grins at the confirmation. James braces himself as Sirius angles his head.

“What do you do there, lovely?”

The endearment instantly flusters you. Your shoulders tighten and your hand flexes on the banister as though to keep yourself from bolting. “I’m a host,” you say.

“That’s nice.” Sirius’ grin is intentionally disarming, lopsided and flirtatious. You look as though you’re not sure what to make of it. “I’m sure it makes for good business to have the pretty girls welcoming customers.”

It’s your last straw. You mumble something about it being nice to see them and all but dash up to your room. James hears your door shut with a soft click.

Sirius frowns. “Skittish thing, isn’t she?”

“Tosser.” Remus pulls him roughly against his side, rolling his eyes when Sirius wraps his arms around his boyfriend’s torso sulkily.

“I was paying her a compliment.”

“She’s just shy.” James doesn’t know why he feels the need to explain you, exactly. Your diffidence is fairly obvious now, but he still feels a bit guilty for thinking you just hated him when he first moved in. After knowing Remus for so long, he thought he’d be able to tell the difference between shyness and standoffishness. Now apparently he feels responsible for liaising between you and his friends. “You knew you were going to embarrass her, prick.”

The conversation turns to Sirius’ tendency to verbally prod at those with quieter demeanors, which he denies vehemently and Remus corroborates with pointed looks but not much commentary.

Once they’ve gone, James goes up to your room with a sandwich. The door is cracked but he knocks anyway, waiting for your quiet “come in” before he pushes it the rest of the way open.

“Figured you might’ve missed dinner,” he says by way of greeting, going to set the plate down on your bed.

It takes effort not to let his eyes roam the room. He can see in his periphery that your desk is cluttered but neat and your walls covered with pictures and art. An effect of your reticence is that, aside from what sort of shampoo you use and how often you need to restock the milk in the fridge, James knows very little about you. He knows you’re a good roommate. You’re clean, you don’t bicker about the thermostat, and you haven’t even seemed cross with him for eating the rest of your oreos (which he’s going to replace, seriously, as soon as he remembers to go to the store). You’re quiet, obviously, but along with that you seem kind.

Honestly, it makes him a bit uncomfortable that you don’t seem to want to be friends. James is only human; he likes being liked, even more so by nice girls with pretty smiles, and it seems crucial that he be liked by nice girls with pretty smiles who he shares a living space with. If you’re going to brush your teeth using the same sink as somebody, you should be on good terms. James believes this.

And though he hasn’t had to work so hard for friendship in some years, he is diligent. He thinks he’ll bring you around yet.

Evidence of progress: the happy-surprised look in your eyes when you spot the sandwich.

“Thank you,” you say, a tender sort of bemusement lining your words. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“Well, if you’ve actually missed dinner, you probably ought to eat something more substantial,” James hedges. He pushes his luck, sitting across from you on your bed. “I don’t want to be an accomplice to your snacks-for-meals agenda.” That wins him a small smile. “But I do feel bad, keeping you from your own kitchen because I have friends over.”

Your eyes flit away at the last bit. You take a hearty bite of your sandwich, chewing to avoid a reply.

“You should know, you are actually paying rent for the whole apartment,” he says, “not just your room.”

You look chastened as you swallow, but you wave him off. “I would’ve gone down to get something later,” you say airily. “I didn’t want to infringe on your time with your friends.”

“You?” James actually laughs. “Never. Trust me, we see plenty of each other. They could probably use a fresh face.”

You roll your eyes. It’s a ploy to keep from looking at him, he’s certain of it. “Well, regardless, you shouldn’t worry about it. I wasn’t starving.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” Your mattress creaks as James stands. Some of the stiffness to your posture eases, and he wonders if you’re relieved to see him go, but you look up with another small smile. Pretty.

“Thanks for the sandwich,” you say.

“You should really have another one,” he replies, grinning back because of forces beyond his control. He starts backing out of the room. “Do you want me to make it? Actually, don’t answer that. I’m making it.”

Your quiet laughter follows him down the stairs.

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hansoeii · 3 days ago

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Hullo! I’ve been watching a bunch of your Timelapses and I was wondering how do you always come up with the colours for your pieces? They’re always so cohesive and pleasing to look at (I almost exclusively work in greyscale so if I’m using colour it’s always a lucky guess and it never looks quite right)

Hey there!

I have to be honest that most of the time I don't actually know what I'm doing and that I have no idea how most of my pieces are gonna turn out. My work process is usually based on "Fuck around and find out", haha. I'm happy to know that it apparently doesn't come across that way, though.

A lot of it comes very naturally to me simply because I've been drawing non-stop for so long, but I can give you some small tips that really help me:

1. Have as many references as possible!

Here's what my reference sheet looked like for the Jayvik piece:

It helped me a lot to understand the overall color scheme I wanted to convey. Lots of very cold tones, pinks and very light blues and greens. These colours sorround Jayce and Viktor throughout all of season 2 and I wanted to keep them, especially since in my piece they are lying in the glowing hexcore.

Don't shy away from using references, get as many as you possibly can! Look at other poeple's art too and try to understand how they work with colours.

2. Work with complementary colours!

Since I paint a lot of romantic illustrations I want them to look pleasing and comforting, which I can accomplish by using complementary colours! You see this a lot with couples that are blue and red coded, for example. And I wanted to do the same thing in the Jayvik piece! For that I used the highlights in their hair!

Viktor's highlights are a soft pink hue.

While Jayce's are a soft blue hue.

The colour wheel works perfect for figuring out if two colors compliment each other because they are literally right across from one another!

3. It doesn't have to be true to life.

Pretty self-explanatory, but I thought I'd add it in here anyways. It's important to understand how colour and light works, but you don't always have to follow the rules. Does the rim light look cool but it makes zero sense? Who cares! Keep the cool rim light! Just have fun and fuck around.

4. A little trick to make your life easier!

I'm not excatly the best at colour theory, I still struggle with it quite a bit, but here's a little trick I like to use from time to time:

If you want all your colours to look coherent, take one specific color as your flat colour. Choose a hue that you would like your piece to have. Like this:

Now you choose whatever colours your characters have and paint them in. For example, here are the skin colours I chose for Jayce and Viktor:

Looks off, right? These colours don't fit the overall piece at all. So what do we do?

Turn down the opacity! It's that easy, wahoo!

I went from 100 Opacity to 72 for this specific illustration. And look at that!

It's so much nicer already! Now you know what colours to use as your actual flats! Just repeat this with every other part of your illustration and you'll have a great starting point. :)

I really hope this was helpful! I'm not an actual teacher and I don't have a proper illustration degree, so some things might not be completely accurate, but I thought I'd try my hand at this anyways!

#teacher han is at it again #if I talked bullshit forgive me #I just hope I was able to help at least a little bit haha #I'm always happy to give some tips!#art process #art tutorial #color tutorial #colouring #illustration #tips #my art #arcane #jayvik #tutorial #anon #ask

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dizzyjaden · 9 months ago

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✧ GENSHIN MEN CRUSHING AND CONFESSING ✧

Pairings: Kaeya, Xiao, Tartaglia, Kazuha, Diluc, Albedo, Scaramouche x gn! Reader

♤ Summary: Hcs for how various characters go about crushes~ ♤ Warnings: No major warnings mostly fluff, Scara's kind of a jerk though. ♤ A/N: Omggg first real post! Reblogs would be greatly appreciated <3

Kaeya:

When Kaeya meets you, he is first enamored with your appearance. Therefore, the route he takes is confidence and directness to flirt with you, he never once hides his attraction. His sultry voice and brief comments about how infatuating you are to him tend to extract these wonderful little giggles from you. The sound never grows tired on his ears, nor do they fail to make his heart swoon.

Kaeya does not realize it at first, but your effect on him becomes stronger swiftly, and makes him rather clingy. He finds himself unable to focus on the tasks of the day and merely looks forward to seeing you. He follows his urges and seeks you out, passing through your most frequent spots in hopes of 'accidentally' bumping into you. When he finds you, he will spend as long as he can stalling for your time. Asking you questions about your day, showering you with compliments, whatever he can do to keep you talking to him without appearing too desperate. He would usually see idle conversation as a bore, but anything is interesting as long as it's your voice that's talking about it.

It's natural to be wary of Kaeya's approach. While his flattery is nice at first, you notice that his inviting posture and half-lidded gaze does not disappear when he is speaking to others. It makes you wonder if you are as special to him as he's led you to believe.

Put off by this, you brush off his efforts. He is confused by your indifference and his demeanor begins to melt rapidly. He seems nervous now when the two of you are conversing, even blushing and avoiding eye contact with you. Being rejected by someone isn't what scares him. Being rejected by you is.

It is noticeable, people often tease you about what a lovesick puppy you've turned him into, snickering about how they've never seen the slow walking, smirk wearing, calvary captain of Mond so stuttery and fidgety around anyone. It is difficult to stand firm on your previous notion that "he is just that way with everyone." Perhaps he does deserve a chance after all.

Kaeya has mostly retired his earlier mannerisms with you, not wishing to make you uncomfortable. That is until, you throw an unprompted flirtatious comment towards him.

It is experimental and casual on your part, but it successfully shakes him to his core. He realizes then and there he cannot let another day pass without you being named as his partner. This routine of playful flirting is as far as he would typically take it when interested in someone, it was the most enjoyable part to him anyways. But with you, it just felt torturous and drawn out. He craved so much more.

As assured as he appears on the surface, Kaeya is not very good at expressing himself romantically. He does not want to risk everything just yet, so he believes the best course of action is simply asking you out for drinks.

You are still not entirely sold that Kaeya will take care of your feelings, but you agree out of curiosity and give him the chance to prove you wrong. He is overjoyed at your answer and becomes rather excited, he quickly has to catch himself and snap his careless attitude back on, but you saw his eagerness.

For a while you are testing the waters with Kaeya, keeping him taking you on little dates and you are quick to learn that there is a lot more to him than meets the eye. There is a certain serenity, a content air about him when you are together, as if he felt everything had fallen into the right place. The way he looks at you is different than when you first met. It feels as though he truly sees you now.

Finally, you are the one to offer a romantic relationship to him. He has been waiting for you. He knows you have been hesitant, so he's intended to allow you to harness control.

His answer is not a word or agreement, but rather a glint of joy in his eyes, quickly followed by a kiss. When you reciprocate, he knows he finally managed to snatch your heart. How thrilled he is for tomorrow.

Xiao:

Loving you to Xiao is similar to being a cat on a marble floor. He is completely unacquainted with emotion as a whole, so when this stomach tightening, face warming, posture stiffening feeling begins to hit him, he is justly at a loss.

He absolutely despises the feeling, to him it translates as nausea or sickness. Why, you gave him an ailment! How dare you! And to think he still yearns for proximity with you.

That is another thing he despises, ever since you met the adeptus you are always begging to spend time with him and he just can't help but agree. You seem to find much comfort in his presence, he isn't sure why. His conversational abilities are stale, his tone pessimistic, his liveliness is nonexistent. Mortals have never connected with him the way you have, which only makes sense because it's absolutely fruitless.

But there you are, always asking him questions about himself that confuse him. Why did you need to know his favorite color? He didn't have one. They were colors, useless visuals.

You are a strange mortal, and so easily charmed or manipulated as well by the smallest of things. Perhaps that's the reason he ends up taking on such a protective role to you. He is always worrying himself sick about you. A pure spirited person like you is just bound to find themselves in trouble.

Despite the amount of inconvenience you cause him, he finds himself feeling so privileged each time he gets to be around you. He's aware mortals often express gratitude for one another, and his way of doing this is by giving gifts.

They are small gifts, flowers, leaves that are intricately folded into three dimensional shapes, crystals, whatever makes him think of you, really.

He doesn't expect validation for his attempts and the way you react each time catches him off guard. All smiles and hurried words of gratefulness, sometimes you pull him into a tight lung crushing hug, which he just hates of course. But he'll allow it. You're only putting yourself at risk choosing to be so close to him.

Something about you makes him need more of you. Every day he finds himself wondering about you, if you will come find him. He catches himself watching from the rooftops of Wangshuu Inn, waiting. Hoping?

And you're always right on cue. This gives him a sense of stability and routine, which was never important to him before. But now he feels safe in a way. It makes no sense to him, he's protecting you, not the other way around.

It takes him a long time to consider the possibility that he does enjoy your company, that this ailment, this curse you've put on him, is actually just his emotional response to you being nearby. When he identifies it, he isn't sure what to do with it. He's aware that humans like to put labels on each other to signify their connection, but he knows so little, he's too unwilling to ruin what is already there. Friendship with you is better than nothing, even if he feels the urge to just attack you with physical contact each time your hand grazes him.

He takes his time opening up to you about his feelings and desires, dropping small tidbits to enlighten you when you speak to one another. You manage to figure it out before he's really given you a proper confession, but you want him to work through it slowly, so you say nothing until the day he finally outright says it.

"I believe I am... Falling in love with you. So, what happens now?" Hopefully, you're willing to guide him through it?

Tartaglia:

Tartaglia really never expected to become so obsessed with you. His initial interest comes from your abilities in combat. He enjoys sparring with the people that are more similar to him in strength, it helps him improve. You're perfect for this. An equal opponent to help him boost his own abilities is all he saw at first.

What he feels during these sessions with you is pure thrill. He sees your relationship as equally matched opponents who agree that there is nothing to lose and everything to gain. Fighting you is never predictable, you are strangely good at catching him off guard. He becomes easily addicted to the feeling of freedom that comes with fighting you, the ability to let go accompanied by the trust that you could hold your own even if he did take it a bit too far. Soon enough, he's borderline pestering you for more and more matches.

Something he slowly finds out is that the two of you share a specific chemistry. The trust you build on the battlefield with one another fuels your comfortable compatibility. Being around you is just easy. The first time his feelings for you begin to rise, he notices immediately.

Just a certain angle of you, and he... Felt something. He knows it, too. This is when his pursuit for you begins. It is rare for him to have free time, and the majority of that is already occupied with your sparring sessions. So, he has to sacrifice a few of those to instead ask you to spend time with him in a more casual way.

He demands you clear your morning plans to get coffee with him, and you agree. Why not? You don't know much about Tartaglia other than his go-to defense techniques.

But oh, how hopeless he is. Tartaglia has never had a romantic partner before, too consumed in his work to care all that much. He gives you horrendous pick-up lines the entire morning until you beg him to stop. He thought he was doing so well, too.

Fortunately, you're more skilled with words than him and you manage to bring the flow back by distracting him with topics you believe are of interest to him. He is comfortable around you, and prefers casual conversation, so he will indulge. Slightly embarrassed by your reaction to his crude attempt at flirting, he decides it may be best to leave it be the way it is.

Determined nonetheless, he continues to hog your calendar with little meetings, he is transparent and unimpressive, which thankfully comes off as quite adorable to you. You've never seen him in this light before. You enjoy teasing him. However, there is only so much he can take before he has to finally state that he is in love with you, and needs to know if you reciprocate.

Begrudgingly, you accept his feelings, although you are disappointed you no longer get to keep him on his toes, his victorious smile makes it worth it.

Kazuha:

Kazuha is the textbook definition of carefree, when he develops feelings for you, he immediately accepts them and continues to live on contently. Whatever happens, happens! His behavior around you does not change in the slightest aside from going out of his way to be near you. Other than that, it's almost unnoticeable.

His reasoning for not confessing anything to you is plain and simple. He does not wish to put you in an uncomfortable position when he is not sure if you even want the same things he does. He isn't scared of being rejected or losing you, he just genuinely does not want to stress you out. He doesn't want to apply pressure to you, he just wants to bask in your radiant existence as much as you'll allow him. No worries, being just friends is good enough for him if it means you can live undisturbed by his inconvenient feelings of affection.

Kazuha has always been in touch with his emotions, more so than the usual person. He subtly expresses his feelings for you with poems and words of affirmation, he likes to make sure you know exactly how wonderful you are. But he never oversteps or puts too much of a spotlight on you.

Because he is just a romantic at heart, it's easy to assume this may just be how he expresses friendship. He's aware that he comes off that way, which is another reason he's so willing to give you so much affection and praise. He does like you, and he wants to show it, but he knows it's not out of character for him to behave this way.

Where his feelings for you really shine through is how protective he is. He doesn't like the idea of you travelling anywhere alone and usually offers to accompany you everywhere. He has faith in your capability to defend yourself but he finds comfort knowing he will be there if needed.

Kazuha always has good ideas when it comes to spending time with you, they are likely to involve nature. He knows where all the best places are, hot springs, water falls, fields of flowers, certain spots where the sunset looks just perfect, you name it, he'll take you there.

He enjoys giving you his attention, but even just being in the same room while the two of you are focused on separate tasks is equally enjoyable to him. He likes that there is never awkwardness or tension between you. Just an easy companionship. You understand one another without trying.

Kazuha only confesses his feelings to you when he's certain you want to hear about them. Whatever way you may choose to let him know, he'll act fast to ensure there is no confusion. He sees no thrill or excitement in allowing you to remain oblivious, and is very content telling you directly when he feels you have given him enough hints. It almost feels too easy, which is exactly what he intends. He doesn't want to see you struggle with your own feelings for even a moment.

When Kazuha officially enters a romantic relationship with you, he takes the transition very slowly to keep you comfortable. He does not immediately start smothering you in affection. It's a slow and steady process. It's not that he doesn't want to kiss you at any given moment, he just prefers that you take the reigns in that area so he's always certain it's what you want to do.

When you are with Kazuha, you can always trust that he will listen to you and cater towards your emotional needs. He is just so in love with you.

Diluc:

Diluc grapples with his feelings for you for a while, assuming they will just come and go. He is not the most knowledgeable about relationships and worries about his ability to be a good partner to you even if he does act on his feelings.

The idea of romance isn't something Diluc is a stranger to, but it's never been on the forefront of his mind. Charming and handsome as he is, it is only natural that he's been approached in the past by people hoping for a chance with him. He's never explored with any of those people, it just wasn't something he really wanted to do. But, you changed things. He catches himself imagining a relationship with you, wondering what it would be like to be with you in that way. The longer it goes on, the more painful it becomes.

When he's no longer able to deny his feelings, he takes a very polite demeanor. He's truly a gentleman, it's difficult for you to remember the last time you opened a door for yourself in his presence. If you happen to visit Angel's Share, you can rest assured you're never going to have to pay for anything.

Getting complimented by Diluc is rare, truthfully he just doesn't know how to phrase things. When he does compliment you, however, it's always genuine and heartfelt. Something about your manner, the way you carry yourself, your resilience, things like that.

Ensuring you are safe is the most important thing to him. He will always voice it loud and clear if he believes you are in an unsafe situation. He doesn't want to cross a line so he will only help if you ask him to. If you do happen to need his help with something, he will have it taken care of very quickly.

Diluc does not care to give you sugary compliments or be vocal about how you make him feel. He is more subtle than that. His affection for you is shown through how he remembers little things about you that might go unnoticed to anyone else, reminds you that he is there for you if you ever need him, never fails to show up for you when you do.

It takes a while for Diluc to gain the courage to tell you how he feels, but when he does get fed up pining after you, he is careful with his choice of words. He wants you to know that even if you reject him, he will still be there for you no matter what. You not reciprocating his feelings for you will not change your importance to him.

He genuinely does not expect you to reciprocate his feelings. When you do, he isn't sure what to do. He didn't have that part planned. He becomes a flustered mess on the spot but ultimately manages to pull himself together and swears his devotion to you.

Adjusting to a relationship with you seems to come naturally for Diluc. While he's internally awkward and so unsure most of the time, he becomes comfortable with you quickly as he realizes you do not judge him for this whatsoever. He is satisfied and feels secure knowing that there is nothing to prove anymore.

Albedo:

Albedo is not head over heels with you right off the bat. It takes a long time getting to know you before he feels anything. Of course, there was always something unidentifiable about you that interested him, but that's as far as it went until now. He isn't sure what exactly gave him this emotional response to you, but he's very curious about it.

Albedo is interested in humanity as a whole. He sees his emotions more akin to resources for his research rather than necessary tools to operate in society. So, when this crush on you blooms, it's an experiment to him. Obviously, he's going to need your assistance. He very boldly and plainly states that he is having these feelings and needs your help identifying and exploring them. It's the first time you've ever seen him clueless.

Explaining the concept of having a crush to him is nearly impossible. More often than not, crushes come out of the blue with no single explanation for them. Something about this he just cannot wrap his mind around.

It's a mission, but Albedo eventually gets it. Love, a sensation he had always pinned on biology seems to be much more emotional and complex than he could have ever anticipated. He reluctantly accepts your embarrassed explanation as truth. When he learns that you reciprocate his feelings, he is confused once more. Why didn't you just tell him? Nervous? Why? He insists you tell him when you feel something significant towards him so you two can conduct your research easier.

Albedo often takes notes about how certain things you do makes him feel. When you hold his hand, his face gets warm. When you laugh, he feels as though he is in a trance and forgets where he is. When you respond positively to his affection, he's eager to do those things more. Everything you do elicits a new reaction from him, it's all worth writing down.

He loves learning new things about you. Now that you've managed to put him in this position, it's like you are the most interesting thing in the world. What makes you the way you are? What crosses your mind the most? What is it about your favorite things that you like so much? Tell him everything in excruciating detail, please.

Albedo likes to share his interests with you too, when you offer to work with him on something involving alchemy, he is overjoyed. He likes to tell you about the ins and outs of everything involving life. He always wonders what you will think. Sometimes, you give him a new perspective on it that makes him reflect. He likes that about you. His work is usually rooted in science and logic, so it only makes sense that logical is the mindset he's lived with. But you bring such interesting ideas that he's never considered before.

He's realized he may be more out of touch with the world than he believed. If he did not know what love was before he met you, what else did he not know? Because of this, he will stay open minded and always consider your point of view when making emotion-related decisions.

For as long as you are with Albedo, he will always have something to learn and grow from. He sees you as very important to him in this way and will do his best to make sure you are content and happy in the relationship.

Scaramouche:

Scaramouche believes he has one purpose in this world. Divinity. If he is to invest himself in something, he better be getting one step closer to godhood in the process. His feelings for you are not necessary, he can't get anything of value out from them. That's the way he sees it. What irritates him is how badly he wants to indulge. Emotion is the very weakness that caused him to be cast out by his creator from the start. He isn't about to easily succumb to his emotion once more when his mission is the electro gnosis. But it is so very difficult to resist when you're around.

It's pretty much all up to you to initiate anything. It's challenging. The first time he saw your hand inching closer to his, he snatched it away immediately. Ever since these feelings of his emerged, every time you try to catch him when he's not busy, hoping to spend some time with him, he runs. He actually runs. He makes no attempt to hide it, either.

He knows if he spends too much time with you, his feelings will only grow. Allowing you to hold his hand or be near him is a slippery slope he's not willing to try. Why won't you just leave him alone? Why must you make it so hard for him to overcome his crush? Take a hint, already.

Eventually, you actually do take the hint and stop pestering him for his time. Good! Now he can focus on other things... Except he can't because now he's panicking over possibly having lost you. What if he hurt your feelings? No, he doesn't care about your feelings. You only ever annoyed him anyways. But for some reason thinking about it just stings.

Scaramouche realizes that one person causing this much trouble for him is absolutely unacceptable. You always being nearby was bad, but you leaving him alone is worse. He isn't going to allow you to steal his heart and then run for the hills, no way. He demands that you spend more time with him. You are flabbergasted, but he's glad to hear you agree.

Overtime, Scaramouche becomes more nervous about you. He grows attached to you and nearly everything he's grown attached to in the past abandoned him, it continues to haunt him to this day. He yearns for your affection, but having it would make the fall so much harder when you ultimately leave him behind. However, he's already so far in. He wonders if having a good thing for even a moment would be better than torturing himself over it instead.

With that, he tells you how he feels, how it's all your fault he's such a mess now, and that you need to make it up to him by being his partner. He's not surprised when you accept his feelings. It's the very least you could do, of course.

Over the span of your relationship, you'll notice how clingy Scaramouche is. It's like if you are not in his sight for even a moment, you're probably dead somehow. He'd never admit it, but you can tell he is paranoid and desperately requires reassurance. He's honestly kind of pathetic but he's yours.

Scaramouche remains unmoving on his theory that you will abandon him someday. He's been through it too many times to fully trust you straightaway. You're just gonna have to prove him wrong.

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flowersdiceandlove · 1 month ago

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Svsss au where Shen Qingqiu’s female. Shen Yuan is still male though. When he transmigrates into SQQ he freaks out not only because he’s the scum villain but also because he’s a girl now. Where is his dick?!? Airplane, you hack, give me my dick back!!!

LBH’s still a guy and everyone else is the same gender too. It’s just SQQ that has the genderbend. And Shen Qingqiu stews over the fact that not only is he a scum villain and a girl, he's the only woman in PIDW that actually gets a bad end and not just tossed into the harem because Shen Qingqiu was just that bad of a scum villain that not even Luo Binghe, stallion protagonist, husband of hundreds of wives, wants to seduce and papapa her into submission like he did with so many other villainess beauties. And it's not the beauty that's the problem. Shen Qingqiu is beautiful. Like an immortal fairy descended from misty peaks to grace the mortal world. Just the type to fit into the harem. So, it really is a testament to how much Luo Binghe hated her that he tortured and killed her instead.

During the three years of LBH in the abyss, SQQ finds a plant or smth that can turn him into a man. So he eats it or whatever. Then, bam. Male Shen Qingqiu.

Fast forward to Jinlan City and Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe meeting again. Luo Binghe freezes and his eyes rack up and down Shen Qingqiu’s form, over his face and repeating the process a few times before stuttering out a very choked and strangled “Sh—Shizun?” Because just did Shen Qingqiu get hotter as a man?!?! (He didn’t but Luo Binghe didn’t know about his transformation and going through the shock of it and a gay panic at the same time. And they’re really close together so he can see all the small changes that are making Shen Qingqiu more masculine instead of feminine.)

“Luo Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu replies, flicking his fan open, his voice cool and even. And Luo Binghe chokes, wheezing out a breath at hearing not only Shen Qingqiu’s deeper, masculine voice for the first time, but that voice saying his name. Send help, this boy is not doing well.

He opens and closes his mouth a few times, struggling for something, anything to say.

"Uh..Um.. Sh-Shizun looks...nice," he eventually says, feeling like an absolute idiot! Of course, Shizun looks nice!!

"...As does Luo Binghe," Shen Qingqiu replies, feeling out of depth because Binghe is two years yearly, and why is he acting so weird? Shen Qingqiu's trying to find Luo Binghe's angle for this weird behavior. Is he playing the traumatized victim of the scum villain teacher? But, if he is, this behavior doesn't seem quite right for it... "Binghe has certainly grown more into himself," he decides to add. More compliments can't be bad, right?

And Luo Binghe's brain short circuits again because Shizun just said he looked nice!!

He lets out a high pitched squeak. Shen Qingqiu is horrified, wondering what is wrong with Luo Binghe. Why is his face so red? And his eyes are shifting around erratically, not focussing on anything. (Luo Binghe can't keep his eyes on Shen Qingqiu--he's to handsome to look at--but also can't look away from him. Seriously, he is struggling bad. Gay Panic: 3, Luo Binghe: 0)

Seeing Luo Binghe continue to look bright red, act weird, and his face look kinda contorted honestly, is making Shen Qingqiu worried about him and his eyes land on Xin Mo. Ah. Xin Mo must be affecting him!! Shen Qingqiu thinks, and calms some at knowing what's wrong. Then that calm is replaced by panic, because Luo Binghe effected by Xin Mo is never a good thing. See, Binghe! This is what happens when you rush your leveling up arc!!

Without thinking, Shen Qingqiu steps forward and lifts his hand to feel Binghe's forehead. Just as he thought. Binghe's burning up. Shen Qingqiu frowns and hums. Luo Binghe goes a bit cross-eyed and his face heats up even more at Shizun touching him. He get's a bit dizzy from it and sways on his feet. Shen Qingqiu's eyes widen at this and reaches his hands out to gab at Luo Binghe's upper arms, stabilizing him. At this, Luo Binghe lets out a high and quite whine in the back of his throat. Shen Qingqiu is very worried now.

Keeping Luo Binghe supported in his grasp, he looks around at the gathered Huan Hua Palace disciples, wondering why one of the girls here isn't rushing to help Binghe. That's what you're here for!! he thinks scowling, then barks out orders at them to find a room for Binghe to lie down in. While they don't really want to take orders from him, they do and find a room. In Shen Qingqiu's ordering, he calls LBH "Binghe" not "Luo Binghe" and it's not helping Luo Binghe regain brain functions.

"Come on, Binghe," Shen Qingqiu whispers to him, ushering him towards the room, "right this way. Can you walk or do you need this master to carry you?" Luo Binghe just whimpers which only worries Shen Qingqiu further and he hurries Luo Binghe to the room faster. Once there, he settles Luo Binghe on the bed. In all his worry, he's fallen back into Protective Shizun Mode that cares for his sick disciples (or Mommy Mode if you prefer). So, he orders the Huan Hua Palace disciples to get water and a cloth and lays the cool towel on Binghe's forehead who's just staring up at Shen Qingqiu with wide eyes. "Shhhh...It's okay, Binghe, you're okay..." he murmurs and Binghe whimpers again, needing to close his eyes. He thought Shizun hated him and thought he was a monster to be put down, but here he was caring for Binghe so sweetly and gently, his touches soft and whispering reassurances to him.

Shen Qingqiu continues to hover over him replacing the cloth when it grew warm, brushing his hair out of his face, patting and stroking his head gentle, and transferring qi to him to try and sooth the effects of Xin Mo. While this little...bout...wasn't brought on by Xin Mo, the sword is still effecting Binghe to at least some degree, so Shen Qingqiu is mitigating that effect. Luo Binghe can only lay there, helpless against the effects of his Shizun and soaking in his affection.

The System kept on giving Shen Qingqiu point increase updates, but they got so frequent that they were annoying and distracting, so he muted them. Shen Qingqiu has however clocked that him pampering Binghe like this and caring for him in such a difficult time is helping his situation and he's hopeful he won't be turned into a human stick as soon as Binghe regains his strength.

One of the Huan Hua Palace meimeis finally can't take it anymore and steps forward, "I can do that. No need for Peak Lord Shen to trouble himself," she says, barely able to hold the vitriol in her voice back. Shen Qingqiu knows his queue when he sees it (at least he thinks he does) and nods gracefully, rising from his seat beside the bed to let her sit in his place. The girl looks smug for only one moment before Shen Qingqiu stops and looks back down at Luo Binghe. He had reached out and grabbed onto Shen Qingqiu's sleeve.

"Shizun, don't leave me," he whispers so soft and broken sounding. He's utterly wrecked by the amount of emotions that have been surging in him, first from the gay panic and then Shen Qingqiu pampering him when he thought he was hated. (Xin Mo wasn't helping either.) And, Shen Qingqiu's heart just cracks at how vulnerable and broken he sounds and the teary look in his eyes, and just plops back down in the chair, grasping Luo Binghe's hand, not breaking eye contact.

"I won't. Shizun won't go anywhere, Binghe, okay?" he says without thinking. Luo Binghe nods and hums, a couple tears slipping from the corners of his eyes. Shen Qingqiu reaches out to wipe them away with his sleeve, one hand still firmly holding Luo Binghe's hand. And, while he hadn't thought before sitting back down or speaking, he can't bring himself to take his words back. Not when Luo Binghe is like this. He clearly needs someone to care for him, and for some reason he wants that person to be Shen Qingqiu. And, who is Shen Qingqiu to deny the protagonist what he wants? And his little disciple at that? While he knows that Luo Binghe is supposed to be blackened right now, when he looks at him, all Shen Qingqiu can see is his little disciple wanting his Shizun.

The Huan Hua Palace girl, though, not wanting to give up just yet, steps forward once more, determined, "Really, I--"

But she's cut off by Luo Binghe growling at her lowly and giving her a harsh glare. She's shocked still by it, her eyes widening and face paling.

On instinct, and so caught up in nostalgia, Shen Qingqiu snacks Luo Binghe's head and glares at him, "Don't growl at her. I taught you better than that."

Luo Binghe looks up at him with wide eyes like a child caught misbehaving, then mumbles demurely, "This disciple is sorry. He won't do it again."

And that shocks Shen Qingqiu out of his nostalgia and he realizes he just smacked. Luo Binghe. The post-abyss Luo Binghe. And scolded him like he was still his teacher and not a scum villain. Terror racing through him, Shen Qingqiu gently pats and soothes Binghe's head, saying sweetly, "Ah, no, it's okay. Binghe needn't apologize, he can growl all he wants." Hopefully that'll do it, he thinks while he continues to pat Binghe's head and fluffy hair. Luo Binghe just stares at him with wide eyes again, his face heating again as well. Then Shen Qingqiu starts fussing over him again and his red face, the girl forgotten. "Ah, is Binghe's fever back? Just lie still. Hey you there--get more water!" then turning back to Binghe and transferring more qi.

Luo Binghe continues to KOed by Shen Qingqiu until he's nothing more than the whimpering, sticky little disciple Shen Qingqiu remembers him to be. just with claws and a demon mark and red eyes and powerful demonic qi. and an evil sword. But still Binghe!! His sweet little bun that just wants his Shizun. (Binghe gets rid of the evil sword when Shen Qingqiu expresses his dislike on how negatively it's effecting him.) And, if Binghe wants his Shizun, then how can Shen Qingqiu deny him that?

#scum villain self saving system #svsss #shen qingqiu #shen yuan #luo binghe #luo bingmei #bingqiu #svsss fanfiction prompt #svsss fanfic prompt #do with this what you will #svsss au

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maybankswhore · 1 year ago

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I don’t know if you’re still taking obx requests (if you’re not feel free to ignore this) but maybe you could write about JJ dating the girliest girl on the island and all the pouges are like HER? And he’s so proud like yeah that’s my girl

𝐎𝐏𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓.

this request was too cute not to do! i don’t know if this is the direction you were looking for but i think it came out adorable! i hope you like it <3

pairing(s): jj maybank x fem!reader

summary: in which jj bags the girliest girl on the island— but what can he say? opposites attract.

The minute JJ saw you , he knew he had to have you. You made his eyes glimmer the moment they laid upon you— with half of your hair pulled back in a pretty pink claw clip , a pretty white sundress on as you laughed sweetly with your friends , nails done and makeup complimenting your features so well.

You were quite literally , breathtaking , in his eyes and although you weren’t the usual low maintenance , tom–boyish type of girl he was used to , it had only made him more attracted to you.

At first he didn’t know how to approach you. He never had problems in the girl department before. Being so confident and charismatic , talking a girl up was a slice of cake to him. But when it came to you , you just seemed so nice and warm. He was afraid that he wouldn’t meet your standards , that maybe you deserved someone better than him. The difference in aesthetics were clear— him with his years old shorts and plain tee while you sported that white sundress that was so elegantly simple.

He sipped on his beer slowly watching you from across the Boneyard , trying to get a good feel of your personality. From what he could see , you seemed nice. You talked to almost everyone and seemed genuinely interested in each convention. He knew you weren’t a Pogue but you didn’t give Kook vibes either. JJ was just about to give it all up and walk away , until Pope walked over to you and gave you a hug– which you had excitedly returned.

JJ watched the two of you converse for a bit wondering if he should wait and ask Pope about you or just go up mid–conversation and introduce himself. . . The conversation wasn’t long enough for him to interrupt though , because by the time he got his thoughts together Pope was already walking towards him.

“What’re you staring at me for?” Pope shoved his shoulder playfully , filling up his cup at the keg JJ was standing next to.

JJ snorted. “You wish I was staring at you. I was looking at her— who is that?” He nodded in your direction.

“That’s Y/N and she’s not your type.” Pope snorted , rolling his eyes at the glint JJ’s face held– he knew that face all too well.

JJ huffed. “And why not? She’s a pretty girl. I like those.”

“Pretty and girly , JJ. She’s emotional and likes all that romantic bullshit you hate. You’d hate it.” Pope pointed out , reminding JJ of the millions of girlfriends he had but soon discarded because he couldn’t keep an emotional connection to save his life. Let alone know how to romance a girl.

JJ gave Pope and offended expression , scoffing. “I can be romantic , Pope.”

“One time you gave a girl a bag of dirt for Valentines Day.” Pope deadpanned.

“Bitch , I was literally ten!” JJ defended. “And it’s the thought that counts. I picked out all the bugs.”

Pope stared at JJ for a second , giving him a knowing look making JJ sigh deeply. “Whatever! I don’t care what you say. I’m in love!” JJ oogled in your direction , a hand over his heart.

Pope patted JJ on the back and shook his head. “I’m sure you are , buddy. I’m sure you are.”

With that Pope walked away to find his other friends , leaving JJ to huff on his own.

“He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” JJ muttered , finishing off his drink. Sure he acknowledged you weren’t his ‘usual’ type— but hey! How’s that saying go? Opposites attract!

Downing the rest of his drink , JJ shook his body to release his nerves. You were finally alone , sitting next to the fire while your friends played beer pong a few feet away from you. Taking this as his time to shine , he strolled over to you with sweaty palms. He felt like a teenage boy having his first crush all over again! All sweaty and nervous. He really did think you were the prettiest girl ever , and he had to talk to you.

“Uh– want some company?” JJ asked lowly , hoping you’d still be able to hear him. He didn’t want to scare you or seem to pushy , so he made sure not to tower over you and keep a good distance away.

Your eyes looked away from the fire and up at him , your cheeks burning red. He was cute. A messy head of blonde hair with small dimples barely noticeable when he smiled. You could feel his nervousness and it made you giggle a bit , excitement in your tummy swirling at the thought of such a cute boy wanting to talk to you. “Sure.” You accepted , moving over for him to sit next to you.

“I—um. . . I like your dress.” JJ said as he sat down , cringing at how awkward he sounded.

You grinned at his compliment. “Thank you. I like your shirt.” You returned the compliment , although the shirt wasn’t to interesting , the person wearing it made it look good.

“Nah this thing’s old.” JJ brushed off.

“Well I don’t know how old this thing is but I bought it at a thrift shop not too long ago.” You shrugged , bumping his shoulder. “I’m Y/N.”

Feeling more comfortable with making conversation , JJ looked at you smiling. “JJ.”

“You’re Pope’s friend!” You remembered Pope bringing up someone named JJ before in distant conversations. Though he was always ranting about the boy , seeming exasperated every time.

“The one and only.” JJ said proudly. “So that means he talks about me— how sweet.” He cooed.

You chuckled. “Only about how you never stop forcing him to leave work early.”

“What kind’ve friend would I be if I just let him work his little self out like that!” JJ defended.

“Point proven.” You nodded , laughing with him. He seemed easy to talk to , even with just a few exchanges of words to eachother. His aura seemed sweet , something that you noticed. “So Pope wasn’t there to keep you company?” You teased.

JJ cheeks blushed slightly , scratching the back of his neck. “No actually , I–uh , I saw you earlier and I think you’re like really pretty and I really wanted to talk to you.” He admitted , hoping to see if you’d be interested in— well anything.

It was your turn to blush. A sweet smile on your face as you tucked a piece of hair away from your face. “You think so?”

“The prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.” He vowed with one hand up in the air. “Scout’s honor.” JJ added.

“Well I think you’re really pretty , too.” You grinned , copying his actions. “Scout’s honor.”

The rest of the night flowed easily between you two. The two of you talked about anything and everything getting to know eachother , seeing what you had in common and what you didn’t. You weren’t much of an outdoorsy person , and loved everything bright and cheerful. JJ seemed to be quite the opposite but he was interested in what you liked , and you seemed to have an open mind about the things he did , as well.

The night ended and your friends called you over telling you it was time to leave , but you put your number in JJ’s phone telling him to call you.

And you didn’t get too far before he dialed that number right up , making sure he had it before you left.

Things had ended up well betwen you and JJ. He had taken you out on dates. Some being what he wanted to do , some of you forcing him to go thrift shopping with you and give him a fashion show. He had researched every romantic comedy , every romance novel to give you the most that you deserved because he started to really like you.

He loved everything about you , how girly you were , how your nails were always done and your hair always fixed. You had such passion for so many things and it shined through you , and it showed inside and out.

JJ fell for you quickly , asking you to be his girlfriend on the seventh date. He planned everything all by himself. A beach picnic at night with pretty little candles and lights. ( All things he had thrifted , knowing it’d make your heart happy. )

He’d never forget how pretty you looked that night in your skirt , big eyes watching him in admiration as he asked you to be his girlfriend , getting all emotional and crying when he did.

But now that things were really serious , he wanted to introduce you to the Pogue’s— which he was excited about , but you were so nervous.

“Baby they’re gonna love you.” JJ promised as the two of you walked to the front door. “I told them they’re gonna love you and they have to listen to me and do what I say regardless.”

You rolled your eyes at your boyfriend. “It doesn’t work like that , JJ.”

“Well it does in my world.” He told you , wrapping an arm around your waist and bringing you close to him. He pressed a sweet kiss to your lips. “I love you so they’ll love you because I do.”

Your heart melted and you always fell to your knees. “I love you , too.”

JJ kissed you one more time before opening the door. You could hear the chaos as soon as it opened , laughter and commotion. Your stomach was in knots as you walked in , wondering what his friends would think. You had seen Pope a couple times since being with JJ , but you hadn’t said anything out of respect for your boyfriend because you knew he wanted to be the one to tell them.

“Hey guys!” JJ said loud enough for them to look at him , their eyes immediately looking at you then back at him then the arm around your waist.

Kiara smirked , knowing that JJ always did have that soft spot he claimed never to have. Pope looked like a deer in headlights and John B was just confused.

“I want you to meet my girlfriend.” He put emphasis on girlfriend. “Who is extremely hot and girly and also extremely my type.” JJ said , looking at Pope.

You nudged JJ’s shoulder and smiled at them. “I’m Y/N.”

“No fucking way.” Pope said , obviously shocked.

“Aw! My little JJ is all grown up.” Kiara pretended to wipe a tear away. “You’re so cute— I’m Kiara.” She pushed past the two boys and tugged at your arm. “I’m excited to have another girl around , do you smoke? Let’s smoke a joint outside.”

JJ pulled you away from her. “Um , no. She doesn’t and her first time ain’t being with you!”

Kiara scoffed and pulled you back , standing in front of you protectively. “If she wants to she will.” She glared before turning back to you and pulling you towards the back yard. “You totally don’t have to.” She whispered in your ear making you laugh.

JJ smiled as he watched his bestfriend take to you and bring you outside. He was excited to have you around more and bring into his life in this way , the Pogue’s were a part of his world that he wanted you a part of.

“I gotta say JJ , I wasn’t expecting that.” John B clapped him on the shoulder.

“No kidding!” Pope scoffed. “I didn’t think he’d get past the first conversation.”

JJ crossed his arms and smirked , shrugging nonchalantly. “What can I say? Opposites attract.”

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loonylupinblack3 · 4 months ago

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Heyy! I absolutely adore your work and I was wondering if I could make a request? A Logan x reader fic where they’re out at a bar and the reader is on the shy side, so when Logan steps aside and a sleazy man tries to get handsy with her, she doesn’t really know what to do. Logan steps in though, protective and fuming. Hope this makes sense!

If not, no worries at all and I hope you have a wonderful day, love!! 💗💗

My Hero

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Reader

Warnings: sleazy man being sleazy, the blatant ignorance of consent, small amount of violence, swearing

Word count: 2k

A/N: hope you enjoy anon <3

You hated big social events. They were your worst nightmare. You hated the amount of people everywhere and the talking and the strangers and all of it. You much preferred one on one, with people you knew and trusted.

Social events just made you uncomfortable. You couldn’t act like other people could. You weren’t easy to talk to or excited to meet strangers. You were awkward and your words came out stilted. You needed a script to follow when speaking to people, and any straying from that script left you vulnerable, confused and scared.

So safe to say these social outings the X men insisted on having weren’t your thing. They claimed it would improve team relationships by completing fun activities together, yet everyone had decided getting drunk at a club was the best fun activity.

You were strongly opposed but it was mandatory, so with incredible reluctance you let your boyfriend drag you to the club, promising to spend the whole night with you and not have a single drink.

Knowing Logan, that was a big promise, and also knowing him as your boyfriend, you knew he’d keep his word. He knew how uncomfortable you got in big groups of people, and he enjoyed the idea of helping you, of being the reason you could bear it.

When you arrived a feeling of dread washed over you, thudding music coming from the warehouse-looking building, and fractures of bright light escaping through the cracks of the door. Logan put his arm around your waist, pulling you close, and you revelled in the safety you felt from it, sticking close as you entered the club.

Loud noise immediately assaulted your senses, and you scrunched up your face as your ears screamed in protest. The music was blaring through speakers dotted all over the room, blasting you to near deafness.

You moved closer to Logan, the man tightening his grip on you. “You alright?”

His voice, barely heard over the loud music, was still a huge relief to you, your beating heart easing slightly. You shrugged your shoulders. “I’m not dying.”

He laughed at your words, his body shaking in the process. You smiled, as you always did whenever you made Logan smile or laugh, a small sense of pride flaring inside you. The good feeling helped you push forward, finding a seat at the bar. Logan sat right next to you as he said he would, and when the bartender inquired what drinks you both wanted he settled for soft drinks for both of you.

You smiled into your hands, feeling slightly giddy that he kept his word even though you knew he was going to. It was something about him deciding not to drink on one of his only nights out because it would better comfort you that made you so delighted.

Logan gently pried your hands away from your face with a smirk. “If I’m not drinking tonight you may as well let me reap the rewards for it. I wanna see that pretty smile of yours.”

Of course those words only made your smile widened, heat rushing to your cheeks at the compliment, and Logan stared with unwavering focus, a smug smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

“You’re insufferable,” you mumbled, looking away.

Logan chuckled, hands snaking to your waist. “You know you love me.”

Unable to resist you turned to look at him, eyes gazing at his features, memorising every blemish on his skin. “Yeah, I do.”

Logan grinned widely at your confession, though you’ve said those words many times before. He just seemed to get a sense of satisfaction every time you spoke them, a reminder that you really did love him, and that you were his.

The sounds of commotion took your attention away, and you heard Scott’s raised voice but couldn’t spot him through the crowd, nor decipher what he was saying. Logan’s brows creased in concern and he looked like he wanted to go check it out, but loyalty to you and his promise to stay by your side stilled his restless body.

“Go,” you urged him, knowing he wanted to check up on his friend. “I’ll be fine here for a few minutes.”

He hesitated still, loyalty to two different people warring inside him. At your sincere expression, however, he leaned in close, pressing a kiss to your forehead and whispering a promise of returning soon before he disappeared into the crowd.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, turning back to the bar and staring at your brightly coloured fizzy drink, though you didn’t take a sip. You hoped Logan would be back soon, for though all your talk of being able to handle yourself you still felt vulnerable and alone, even in a room packed full of people.

“All alone there Missy?”

Your head whipped to the side to the source of the question, finding a man much older than you leaning on the bar, eyeing you appreciatively.

You shifted about nervously, swallowing thickly. You hated talking to strangers. “Um, no, I have a few friends here.”

The man raised his eyebrows, making a show of looking around the bar before zeroing back on you. “So then where are they?”

You felt uncomfortable that he was still talking to you and pathetically shrugged your shoulders. “They said they’d be back soon.”

The man nodded, humming slightly before sidling closer to you. As you were seated you couldn’t very well move away, but you longed to when you smelt the alcoholic tang on the man’s breath.

“The name’s Hiram,” he spoke, using a hand to ruffle his hair slightly.

You thought he looked ridiculous.

“Y/n,” you murmured quietly instead, because you weren’t sure what else to say.

The man, Hiram, seemed to take that as an invitation to move closer, his breath in your face and hand on your shoulder. You tried to lightly shake it off but he had a vice grip, fingers uncomfortably digging into your skin.

“Why don’t we leave this place Y/n?” he offered, hand trailing to your lower back.

You were extremely uncomfortable as of this moment and was grasping for something to say to make the man leave you alone.

“Please let go of me,” was your meek response, feeling both foolish and defenceless.

The man scoffed, hand moving to hold your arm in a tight grip. “Listen Y/n, let’s just have some fun ‘kay? You don’t need to make it a big deal.”

You ignored him, tugging your arm out of his hand and sliding off the stool, intending to search for Logan. The man was fast though, his slimy arm wrapping around your waist and jerking you towards him.

An icky, sickly feeling overtook you, the overwhelming sense of fear flooding your senses. You didn’t want this grimy man’s hands on you and certainly didn’t want his revolting breath in your face. You wanted to be home curled up on your bed with a book in hand, your boyfriend’s arms wrapped around you and his chin resting gently on your head as he read over your shoulder.

This was not what you wanted, but you’d told him that and he’d ignored it so you didn’t know what you were supposed to do now.

“Please, leave me alone-” you pleaded, desperately trying to tug yourself away from him.

He groaned like you were the one being difficult, tightening his grip on your waist to the point it was painful. “It won’t even be for that long-”

“She said leave her alone.”

Relief bloomed in your chest, even with the dirty man’s fingers still digging into your flesh. Hiram turned to look over his shoulder, eyes widened slightly at the sight of Logan towering over him, a white fury in his eyes.

He didn’t bow out immediately, however, which took guts, because a lesser man would have taken one glance at the fuming look on Logan’s face and bolted.

“C’mon man, just having some fun,” Hiram laughed, hand sliding lower down your waist.

Logan noted the movement, his jaw clicking as he stared at Hiram like he was his next meal. “You get the fuck away from her or I’ll make you.”

The man scoffed, taking a step forward, and then suddenly was on the floor, a cry of pain coming from his lips as he cradled his now broken nose. Logan moved forward, stepping on the man’s fingers as he did so, a sickening crack accompanying the action, before he was in front of you and wrapping you up in his arms.

“M’so sorry Bub,” he murmured. “I shouldn’t have left you alone.”

You shook your head but was grateful he was here, burrowing your head into his chest in an attempt to escape it all. “Can we go home?”

Logan was already leading you to the exit. “Of course. The others’ll understand.”

You were grateful as Logan drove you home, but you couldn’t get the feeling of the man’s grimy hands off you. You felt dirty, tainted, like he’d wiped mud on you and you needed to clean it off. Logan noticed your unease as you entered your shared room, and inquired gently as to what the matter was.

When you confessed your feelings, describing the awful ickiness crawling up your arms, and the phantom touch of the man’s hands imprinted upon your skin, Logan gently took your hand and led you to the bathroom, where he started filling the bathtub full of warm water, adding the strawberry essence you liked so much. He beckoned you to get into the tub and you did gently, taking each piece of clothing off and feeling the man’s hold more deeply, like he was still touching you beneath your clothes.

It made you want to cry as you sat in the tub, knees to your chest. That was until you felt Logan’s hands, marred from centuries of violence, rub your skin with the softest touch, soap coating his fingers. The realisation that he was washing you, delicately cleaning every spot of your skin with his hands, was too much to bear and the tears started falling, but Logan just kissed them all away as he continued cleaning you.

Bit by bit he cleaned you off, making sure no part of you was untouched, wiping the man away from your body. You felt relief and an undying amount of love and gratitude for the man before you. It was hard to imagine him as the formidable Wolverine, because right now he was caring for you with such gentleness you were putty in his hands.

Fully cleaned off, the man’s hold a distant memory, Logan dried you off and dressed you in one of his shirts, knowing you felt safe with your body swamped in his clothes. He then gently carried you bridal style into your bedroom, holding you with a softness you hadn’t known he possessed.

He tucked you in the sheets, made sure you were the utmost comfortable before sliding in beside you, immediately pulling you to him, your back to his chest, and just holding you. You couldn’t have asked for a better moment, and gratefully melted into his embrace, feeling the safest you had all night.

“I love you Sweatheart,” he murmured into your hair, pressing a kiss to prove his words.

A delightful shiver ran down your spine at the action and you sighed in contentment, moving further into his embrace. Things were now as they should be, the two of you wrapped up in each other as the night slowly crept by. In the morning you’d wake up to your head in the crook of Logan’s neck like it always ended up, your limbs tangled together and breathing in sync.

For now though you let your eyes droop, a smile on your lips as you whispered, “I love you too.”

Logan held you a bit tighter after the words, a desperate feeling of love and awe overcoming him, and gently brushed your hair as you fell asleep, before he eventually followed suit, with you in his arms like you were supposed to be.

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett fanfiction #wolverine x reader #wolverine fic #wolverine fanfiction #wolverine #wolverine x you #james howlett x reader #x men #xmen #xmen fic #x men x reader #x men fanfiction #x men fic

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wintrwinchestr · 4 months ago

Text

strangers | part 1

summary: following in the footsteps of a girl you once knew, you decide to up and leave home one morning without looking back. when you find yourself to be tired, hungry, and alone in the middle of nowhere, you're thankful when a kind stranger offers you a ride, a warm meal, and a place to sleep for the night. he only tells you about himself in bits and pieces, but he seems trustworthy enough, and what you don't know can't hurt you, right?

!!PLEASE READ WARNINGS, THIS IS A VERY DARK FIC!!

I've tried to label this fic as detailed and as boldly as possible. I will not be held responsible or bullied off the internet if you choose to read this potentially upsetting/triggering work of fiction anyway.

warnings: joel miller x f!reader, 18+, smut, age gap (reader is college-aged, joel is mid-50s), no outbreak au, serial killer!joel, dark!joel, talk of death/murder and blood, mommy & daddy issues, brief talk of domestic violence, lying/gaslighting, manipulation, f-receiving non-con somnophilia (no sex, but groping, fingering, dry humping, kissing, and choking), degrading language toward victims, pet names (baby, darlin', sweetheart), some joel pov, no ellie/sarah but tommy has an unnamed daughter, somewhat inspired by "strangers" by ethel cain, takes place in illinois/ohio/indiana, vaguely set in the 70s/80s, this part is mostly introduction/storytelling/yapping, please respectfully let me know if i missed anything and i will rectify the tags

word count: 9.8k

a/n: i started this as a oneshot way back in november, and then it sat abandoned for a very long time. thank you to my lovely friends @polaroidpascal and @chippedowlmug for encouraging me to finish it, and also bestie kiers who never hesitates to match my freak. also thank you to the many writers who made me feel inspired to write something dark and not give a fuck what people think about it. i hope you enjoy this joel he's a freak and i love him and if you say anything mean about him i'll send him after you <3

divider by @saradika

series masterlist/moodboard

read this chapter on ao3

part 2

Ruby Carpenter.

You had spent all day trying to remember her name without really knowing why. Maybe it’s because as the sun sets on what would be the first day of your junior year at the nearby state school, you wonder if she ever made it to one of the fancy ivy leagues she had always aspired to attend. You wonder if she’s even still alive.

Ruby had disappeared a few years ago now, the summer after your senior year of high school. For nearly a year afterwards, her missing posters remained stapled onto every telephone pole and stuck onto every store window around town, until the paper began to disintegrate and the ink began to fade. In that time, you couldn’t even make a quick run to the grocery store without being confronted by dozens of replicas of her yearbook photo printed onto the sides of all the milk cartons. Despite all of the efforts to find her, including several search parties and a decent amount of statewide media coverage, everyone had just stopped looking for her, eventually. Even the police. Even her parents.

It was decided that she had probably just run away, and you can’t entirely blame her, but you can’t imagine why she would, either. You remember her perfect head of blonde ringlet curls that shone a yellow gold in the sun, and her bright blue eyes that turned fiery in her more passionate moments during classroom debates. She had every boy in your grade wrapped around her finger, was the teacher’s pet in every class, and it wasn’t even a question whether she would win prom queen your senior year. She was always sweet to you, always complimented your outfits or your makeup or your art projects with a genuine lilt in her voice and a kind smile, so you could never bring yourself to hate her even though it would’ve been so easy to. You figured she was going to cure cancer or become the president after you had all graduated, which is why you never really stopped wondering whatever happened to her that summer. She was beautiful, with boundless potential and a bright future ahead of her, why would she have just given it all up?

Everyone around town knew Ruby, or at least it seemed that way. But maybe nobody ever really knew her as well as they thought. Maybe she’d had a secret boyfriend all that time who whisked her away that summer, maybe she had decided to try drugs and fell down a rabbit hole that she couldn’t claw her way out of, maybe she had finally figured out that the only thing this town would ever be good for is holding people back. Maybe she did just wake up one day and decide to run without ever looking behind her.

Maybe you should do the same.

With your dad long gone now and your step-father doing a piss poor job of filling in the hole he left, following in Ruby’s footsteps has sounded like a better idea with each passing day. Rob isn’t even really your step-father, anyway, just your mom’s sorry fucking excuse for a boyfriend. The guy’s already been married upwards of three times before, why try for another one? He’s a lazy son of a bitch who can’t hold down a job at a fast food joint for more than a couple of weeks at a time, who sleeps every second of the day that he’s not chugging through a six pack, and who leaves marks on your mother uglier than his fucking face.

She doesn’t deserve to be treated that way, of course, but it’s not like she’s winning the “mom of the year” award any time soon, either. She’s never even been nominated. She’s forgotten just about every one of your birthdays, been the reason you’ve never had any friends come over, and in her most recent offense, blew all the savings you had put away for your last two years of college. Which is why you’re not spending tonight celebrating being one year closer to at least having an official-looking piece of paper to show for yourself. Instead, you’re using the rattling of your bedroom window unit and the booming bass of your radio to drown out yet another drunken screaming match between your mother and the guy she lets live in your house now, watching the world outside pass you by and knowing that if you don’t do anything about it now, you’ll never make it out of here. You’re thinking about Ruby Carpenter, hoping she found somewhere greener and more promising and was able to make something of herself, far away from here. And you’re thinking that this rusted orange sunset is the last one you’ll ever see from your bedroom window.

It’s decided, then. You’re leaving, first thing tomorrow.

—

You’ve only gotten a few hours of sleep by the time your alarm clock chimes to life at five o’clock on the dot. You’re quick to silence the shrill beeping with a swift swat of your hand, careful not to wake anyone else in the house. The sun has just barely begun to stream in through the blinds of your bedroom window, but it illuminates the room just enough for your eyes to land on the backpack you had stuffed full of a few changes of clothes last night, waiting for you by the door.

You don’t waste any time stripping off your pajamas and pulling on just about the only clothes left in your room that aren’t in your bag. You’ve got your teeth brushed, face washed, and hair tamed in all of about ten minutes, too anxious to spend even one more unnecessary second in this house. You swing your backpack over your shoulder, pull your bedroom door open at just the right speed so that the hinges don’t squeak too loud, and tiptoe delicately down the stairs, careful to avoid the creaky floorboards that you know like the back of your hand—the one three steps from the top, the one at the landing about halfway down, and the very bottom one.

You land softly when you leap over that tattletale bottom step, successful in the most difficult part of your escape plan so far. Rob is passed out on the living room couch in typical fashion, his mouth full of crooked teeth hanging open as his grating snores permeate the calm morning air. He’s still got a death grip around an empty beer can, even in his sleep, and your mother will likely be the one to toss it into the trash for him, useless fucker that he is. You aren’t going to miss either of them, and you imagine they’ll just skip trying to replicate the first half of the aftermath of Ruby’s disappearance altogether—no posters, no search parties, no police. You’ll just be gone, one less mouth for your mother to feed. Though, you’d been mostly feeding yourself since you were tall enough to slide a couple of bills across the counter at the corner store down the street, anyway. You’re ready to disappear, the same as candle wax when it burns, the same as the end of a rainbow, the same as Ruby Carpenter.

You don’t bother looking back when you shut the door behind you, content to leave it all behind just as the sun begins to rise and set the sky ablaze. By the time it sets again tonight, you hope to be in a different county, in a different state, anywhere that isn’t here. The rest, you’ll just have to figure out when you get there, wherever “there” may be.

—

You had only realized about an hour ago that you’d forgotten your cheap digital watch in the drawer of your bedside table, where it’s laid unused for the past couple of months, because who needs to tell time during the summer? You never had anywhere to be, never had to get to class or turn in a paper by a certain time, so it’s just been collecting dust since you had unclipped it from your wrist on the last day of spring semester. It sure would have come in handy right about now, when you have no fucking clue what time it is. The sun had disappeared behind the hills several mile markers back, so it must be… eight o’clock? Ten o’clock? Fucking midnight? You have no idea. What you do know is that you’re exhausted, hungry, and your feet hurt like hell. You aren’t really sure what you expected, the reality only just now setting in that you don’t even have ten bucks to your name anymore, thanks to your narcissist of a mother. The crumpled up bills you do have in your pocket are hardly enough for a goddamn sandwich, let alone a motel room. The cool night breeze raises goosebumps on your skin, and you swear you can see your fucking breath, even in the middle of August. You wrap your arms around yourself just as tears begin to prick at your waterlines, and you let them fall as you collapse onto the scratchy patch of dead grass on the side of the freeway, not a park bench or a bus stop or even a gas station in sight for God knows how many more miles.

You sit cross-legged, elbows propped up on your knees so that your hands can support your weary head, the skin of your palms becoming slippery with salty tears as your crying just doesn’t seem to stop. The road you’ve found yourself on seems relatively low-trafficked, the heaving sounds of your sobs accompanied by more cricket chirps and rustling wheat than rumbling tires. But a few high beams do streak across your vision every once in a while, coloring the backs of your eyelids a flaming scarlet.

After several minutes, your tears seem to dry up on their own, your body likely too dehydrated now to produce any more. You wipe the moisture from under your eyes with the back of your hand, sniffling as you gnaw at the skin of your bottom lip and debate if you should just turn back now, give up on your stupid little plan (or lack thereof) and just call the whole thing a loss, pretend it never even happened. Your mother and Rob won’t have even noticed you’d left.

Just as you pull yourself back up to your feet, set on at least finding somewhere that isn’t the hard ground to sleep on tonight before you make your way back home tomorrow, the warm headlights of an old pickup truck are shining bright in your eyes. You put your arm up to block them as the truck slowly squeals to a halt in front of where you’re standing, and you squint your eyes at the driver as your vision adjusts.

“You need a ride, sweetheart?” A man asks in a gravelly voice, and you can still hardly make out what he looks like. Based on the southern accent you pick up on, he doesn’t sound like he’s from around here.

“N-no, thank you. I’m okay,” you respond shakily, taking a nervous step back from the stranger and his rusted pickup.

“You sure? Looked like you were cryin’ over here, like you might be lost or somethin’.”

“‘M not lost, I know where I’m going.”

“Oh yeah? Where’s that?”

Shit.

You take a guess.

“Um… the motel down the road,” you reply, tilting your head in the direction you had been walking in.

“There ain’t a motel down there, sweetheart. Ain’t nothin’ in either direction for miles, ‘s all just farmland out here. Reckon you’ve already figured that out, though.”

You pause, unsure of what your next move should be. He knows you’re lying, knows you’re alone with no fucking idea where you are or where you’re going. You could run, but even that shitty truck of his could catch up to you in a matter of seconds. You take another step back, swiveling your head around to look up and down the road as you try to figure your best way out of this.

“Just lemme give you a ride somewhere, darlin’. There’s a diner just off the exit, ‘bout twenty miles up ahead. Could take you that far, at least, get you somethin’ to eat,” he offers. A warm meal does sound pretty good right now, and you suppose you aren’t exactly in a position to refuse his help.

You think on it for a second. “What’s it called? The diner.”

The stranger huffs. “Moody’s.”

“What do they have?” you challenge.

He sighs. “It’s a fuckin’ diner off the side of the freeway, darlin’. They got greasy food and black coffee, ‘s about all you need.”

You don’t say anything.

Then, after a beat—“They got some kinda sloppy mess they call the Thunder Burger. ‘S got onion rings and shit on it. Ain’t half bad.”

You have to admit, he’s passing your pop quiz with flying colors. His answers have been too quick, too specific for him to be lying to you. There’s a pretty solid chance this diner does exist, and that he’s been there before. The man hasn’t said anything that’s indicated he wants more to do with you than to offer you a ride and some dinner. He’s probably just somebody’s harmless grandfather, anyway, judging by his motheaten flannel and gray-stricken beard you can see now that you’ve approached his truck a few paces closer.

“Okay,” you concede, your stomach growling loudly as the man leans over the bench seat to pop open the passenger side door for you. You shrug off your backpack and climb into the cabin, clicking your seatbelt into place as you situate yourself on the cracked leather seat.

“All set?” the stranger asks.

“Mhm,” you hum, finally getting a better look at the man you might just owe the rest of your life to after tonight. For being somebody’s grandfather, he’s… kinda handsome. Really fucking handsome, actually, in a rugged sort of way. He’s got warm amber eyes that sparkle even in the dark of night, a kind smile that completely disarms you in an instant, and a splintering scar across the bridge of his nose that somehow only adds to his good looks. You try to suppress your own grin as you look away from him quickly, opting to focus on fidgeting with one of the fraying edges of your denim shorts instead. Even in your peripheral vision, you don’t miss how his eyes shift from your own to the exposed skin of your thighs. He doesn’t say anything, just clears his throat as he shifts gears and steers his truck back onto the road again.

He lets the next few minutes pass in comfortable silence before asking, “You got a name, sweetheart?”

You tell him, and he flashes another charming smile at you. “I like that, ‘s pretty… Well, I’m Joel. Sure you were wonderin’. Now you ain’t gettin’ a ride from a stranger no more, are ya?”

“Yeah, I guess I’m not,” you giggle, and you’re surprised at how comfortable you feel with him. “So… you’ve been to Moody’s before?”

“Handful of times, yeah. When I’m passin’ through.”

You nod. “So you come up here, like… for work or somethin’?”

Joel chuckles. “Or somethin’. You never even heard of the damn place, so… reckon you don’t find yourself out here very often, do ya?”

“No… ‘M not even really sure where ‘here’ is, to be honest. I just kinda… started walking.”

“Ah… a runaway, then, are ya?” Joel asks, with an appreciated amount of understanding in his tone rather than judgment. “‘M sure your folks are missin’ ya right about now, must have your boyfriend worried sick.”

You scoff at that. “Fuck no. They probably don’t even know I’m gone, won’t even bother trying to come look for me. And I don’t have a boyfriend, so…”

“Damn shame. ‘M sorry about that, sweetheart,” Joel comforts, placing a large calloused hand on your thigh. It makes your breath hitch, but his touch isn’t entirely unwelcome. You let him squeeze once at the plush of your leg before he replaces his hand on the wheel, and your cunt spasms out a little fluttering pulse against the seam of your shorts, despite yourself.

The rest of the drive to Moody’s is relatively quiet, save for the gentle crooning of an old country singer emanating from the cassette player on the dash. The soft singing and steady strumming of a banjo combined with the muffled chugging of the truck’s engine is enough to lull you to sleep, especially after the day you’ve had. You know that just about every mental alarm bell you have should be screaming at you to jump out of the car, to run, that sleeping alone in the dirt would’ve been a better decision than getting into this strange man’s—Joel’s—truck, but you’re too tired to hear them. He smells good, like woodsmoke and pine and cinnamon, and if he wanted to do something awful to you, he probably would’ve done it by now. So you trust him, for now at least, and let your lashes fan out against your cheeks as your head falls back against the cushioned headrest, coaxed into sleep by the lullaby of tires against pavement and fingertips against guitar strings.

—

You only rouse when you feel the truck come to a stop about half an hour or so later, slowly blinking your eyes open against the bright neon sign that reads “MOODY’S” in bold capital letters. Your jaw stretches wide as a yawn overtakes the muscles, and you hear Joel’s southern drawl replace the one from the cassette as he shuts the engine off.

“Mornin’, sleepyhead. Not too tired to eat somethin’ now, are ya?”

Another unpleasant-sounding rumble from your empty stomach answers for you, loud enough for both of you to hear this time. The air puffing out of the diner’s kitchen smells strongly of fatty bacon and rich coffee, just like Joel had promised you the place would offer. Although the digital clock on the dash read just after 10:30 before you fell asleep, you’ve never craved breakfast quite like you do right now. You absentmindedly lick your lips as you imagine the sweet and savory—and more importantly free—meal that could be waiting for you beyond that blinding beacon of a sign.

“Well, alright then. Let’s get some food in ya before you keel over, hm?” Joel says as he exits the truck, landing on his feet in the dirt parking lot with a soft groan. He waits by the hood for you to meet up with him, and you walk up the couple of steps to the entrance together. He holds the door open for you, and you offer him a shy ‘thank you’, to which he responds with a soft spoken ‘welcome, sweetheart’. You stand shyly behind his broad form as he asks the hostess for a table for two, and she leads you to a green leather booth tucked into the corner of the diner. She hands each of you a sticky laminated menu, the pages a charming mess of clashing colors and faded pictures and retro-looking fonts, then departs with a promise that your waitress will bring the two of you some water as you take your time deciding on what you might like.

You light up upon reading that Moody’s serves breakfast all day, and that they can make you exactly what you were hoping for—a stack of chocolate chip pancakes with sides of bacon and hashbrowns. You can’t help but smile to yourself as you wiggle in your seat, excitedly anticipating the waitress to come back around so you can order.

“Whatcha so excited about over there?” Joel asks, eyeing you from across the table as he glances up from his own menu.

“Nothin’, I was just hoping I could get some pancakes, and they have ‘em on the menu,” you explain giddily. “I’ll probably get some coffee, too, really complete the whole ‘breakfast for dinner’ thing.”

Joel huffs through his nose. “Decaf, I hope. ‘S the middle of the goddamn night, sweetheart. Gonna be bouncin’ off the walls in the room later, hardly get any sleep.”

He’s right, you suppose. But wait—“What room?”

Joel shrugs casually. “There’s a decent motel another exit or two down, figured they could probably get us a couple o’ beds for the night. But, ‘m sorry, shouldn’t have assumed—”

“No! No, it’s okay.”

Is it? You only met the man less than an hour ago, and you already agreed to let him give you a ride before you even knew his name. You suppose you hadn’t really thought about what would happen after he bought you dinner, but not thinking ahead seems to have been a theme today, hasn’t it? You remind yourself that he’s only been kind and respectful to you so far, save for that placement of his hand on your upper thigh soon after he picked you up. But that could’ve just been a friendly, paternal gesture, right? And he said a couple of beds, when he mentioned the motel, which seemed to imply that he plans on the two of you sleeping in separate beds, maybe even separate rooms. You’ve found yourself having to make yet another somewhat reckless decision tonight, but one that would be in your best interest to say ‘yes’ to, at this point. What other option would you have if you declined his offer?

“Don’t really have anywhere else to go, so… yeah, okay. Motel sounds good. And decaf it is, I guess.”

Joel’s apologetic expression quickly morphs into a satisfied smirk. “Good girl,” he praises. You like how the words sound coated in his thick drawl, even though you probably shouldn’t. You shift where you sit as that familiar fluttering sensation returns to the seat of your panties, just for a moment. You’re grateful that the waitress arrives at the booth not a second later, cheerily introducing herself as she sets down a glass of water for each of you. When she asks if you’re ready to order, Joel gestures to you as if to say ‘ladies first’, and you politely prattle off your request. You make sure to emphasize that you’d like your coffee decaf, and ask if she could please bring some more of the little cups of vanilla creamer to the table. “Not a problem, honey,” she replies, and Joel winks at you as she asks what she can get for him. He orders the Thunder Burger he had told you about earlier, and a black coffee, which he doesn’t request to be decaf. The waitress leaves the two of you alone again with an ‘I’ll have that right out for ya,’ and you let your eyes follow the calming baby blue color of her dress as she glides her way back to the kitchen. When she disappears around the corner of the bar, you take the opportunity to study Moody’s other patrons. There isn’t another young person in sight, mostly just men around Joel’s age with similarly heavy bags under their eyes, likely truck drivers indulging in their first hot meal of the day within the diner’s comforting wood-paneled walls. You wonder if that’s how Joel knows about this place, because he “passes through” this area on long hauls across the midwest. You open your mouth to ask him if your assumption is correct, but he cuts you off before you can say anything.

“I gotta admit, sweetheart, I’m curious… The hell was a pretty thing like you doin’ out in the middle of goddamn nowhere tonight? I mean, I know you’re a runaway ‘n all, but… shouldn’t you be one o’ those college party girls or somethin’? ‘M sure you got plenty of friends wonderin’ where you are.”

You sigh, shaking your head as you distractedly pick at a splintered piece of wood at the edge of the table.

“I was in college. Was supposed to be going back again this year, but… my mom spent all the fucking savings I had left for the rest of it on fixing up her dumb boyfriend’s car. It’s just been sitting in the fucking lawn all summer, sure as hell not being used for something useful like going to the job he doesn’t have. That bastard…” You say the last part under your breath through gritted teeth.

“Shit… Tha’s a tough deal, baby, ‘m real sorry to hear that,” Joel comforts. “But y’know, everybody’s got mommy ‘n daddy issues, don’t mean you just up and start walkin’ all by your lonesome, not even have any idea where you’re goin’.”

“Well, it wasn’t just that. There was… nevermind, it’s stupid.” You slump into the cushioned booth, silently cursing yourself for even bringing it up.

“What is it?” Joel pushes, sitting up straighter to show you that he wants to listen, wants to get to know you. And God dammit, he might be the first person you’ve met in a long time who actually seems to care about what you have to say, as strange as it is. You flick your eyes up to his face, and he’s wearing a sincere gaze that convinces you to continue.

“There was this girl I went to high school with. She disappeared a couple of years ago, nobody ever found out what happened to her. People figured she probably just ran away, and I thought… I dunno. That maybe she had the right idea, leaving that place behind. I always held onto this hope that maybe she was still out there somewhere actually doing something with her life, that maybe she just changed her name or something and disappeared on purpose.” You pause. “I guess I just thought I might be able to do the same, if I left.”

“I see…” Joel muses sympathetically. “Maybe I oughta give you a lil’ more credit, then. Must’a been tough losin’ a friend like that, not knowin’ where she ended up.”

“I mean, Ruby wasn’t really my friend. She just—”

“Hang on. Ruby, you said?” Joel interrupts, his eyes suddenly looking a little wild.

“...Yeah. Her name was Ruby. Ruby Carpenter.”

—

Fuck.

Joel has to adjust himself under the table, his dick now hardening uncomfortably in his jeans at just the mention of her name. He remembers Ruby, remembers chuckling to himself when he realized the irony of her name matching the color of her blood, remembers watching the news coverage of her disappearance in this very same diner, those handful of years ago. She was a sweet thing, he remembers this, too. It was a shame she had ended up being such a fighter, that she had to get put down the way she did. But she shouldn’t have thrown that fucking rock at his face, called him a sick fuck and a freak as she made her pitiful little escape attempt. Joel is lucky that all he came away from it with is that ugly little scar that mars the bridge of his nose. He can’t say the same for her.

“Why? You heard her name before?” You ask him, an unfortunate little twinkle of hope in your eyes.

“Maybe.” Yes. “Sounds a lil’ familiar, might remember hearin’ about it on the news or somethin’.”

That goddamn news coverage sure as hell taught him a lesson. Joel had spent months trying to keep the cops off his fucking tail after he had dumped her body on some forgettable patch of land behind an old decaying barn. He had even gotten pulled in for a fucking interview at the station in what he now presumes to be your hometown, where they had questioned him for an hour or so about her disappearance. He still isn’t sure how he talked his way out of that one. Ruby might not have been good for much else, other than pissing him the hell off with all of her pathetic crying and begging to just please, please let me go back home, but she did help him perfect his craft, he can give her that much. It’s because of her that Joel makes certain now that any girl he picks up doesn’t have anybody who will miss her or plaster her face on every local channel or send out goddamn search parties to find her. Girls like you.

You’re just so perfect, it would be so fucking easy for him to make you disappear for good, it’s almost comical. It had hardly taken any convincing at all to get you to climb into his truck, had taken even less to get you to agree to go to some seedy ass motel with him that might not even exist, for all you know. It does, but you didn’t even try to test him about it this time, just put all of your trust in him like a stray puppy would to the first person to pick it up off the street. That is just about what you are, he supposes. So far, you seem like the perfect candidate to become his little captive pet. If you keep it up, maybe you won’t meet the same fate as the rest of them. He’d told himself he’d be done after the last one, anyway, his body too old and achy and slow now to chase after the ones who put up a little more fight, like she had. She’d nearly escaped, made it a decent way through the woods and almost reached the main road before tripping on an exposed root and snapping her ankle. He remembers how weak and scared she’d looked before he’d used his knife to put her out of her misery, and it makes his dick twitch. Joel doesn’t plan on snuffing you out, not right now at least, since you haven’t given him a reason to. But his fingers still twitch where they rest on the table, moving out of instinct as he can’t help but imagine what they’d look like wrapped so tightly around your little throat. Would you cry? Would you beg? Would you pray? Would he have to glide his blade across your vocal chords just to get you to stop screaming so fucking loud? He wonders.

“Oh… Was that one of the times you were just ‘passin’ through’ for whatever reason you haven’t told me yet?”

Joel hadn’t realized that his eyes had been unfocused for so long, or that he’d been holding his breath, or that his hand had been squeezing his glass of water so hard he’s glad it hadn’t shattered. The airy sound of your voice brings him back to reality, and he huffs a light chuckle as he fixes his face into a more pleasant expression.

“Yeah, ‘spose it was.”

You roll your eyes at him playfully. “Come on, Joel. I just told you, like, my whole sob story. I feel like I deserve to know at least one thing about you now.”

You have a point.

He gives in. “Fine. I got a brother, used to come through this area when I’d pay him a visit. That good enough for ya?”

You cross your arms. “No. What’s his name?”

“Tommy.”

“What’s he look like?”

“Like me. Little younger. Little uglier.”

You laugh at that.

It makes Joel smile.

Maybe you could be the one he’s been looking for all this time. Too bad he had to waste so many others before he finally got to you.

—

The waitress comes back to your table soon after that, with your steaming plates of delicious-smelling food and hot mugs of coffee balanced expertly on a large plastic tray. She sets them down in front of the pair of you with a cheery smile, and you thank her happily when she doesn’t forget the extra sickeningly sweet cups of creamer you had requested. Joel doesn’t take his eyes off you once during the interaction, not even to feast his eyes upon the monstrous burger now sitting before him, not even as he thanks the waitress for delivering it to him. His lingering gaze makes you feel a little warm, but it could just be from the heat radiating off of your plates.

“What? You’re not getting a bite of mine, if that’s why you’re looking at me,” you tease, already getting to work putting the sugary creamer to good use.

Joel just shakes his head, his caramel colored eyes still never leaving you as your coffee begins to resemble their hue. “No, ‘s not why.”

“Whatever,” you reply through a giggle, making a poor attempt to hide your girlish grin behind the lip of your white ceramic mug.

The two of you eat your meals in relative silence, mostly enjoying each other’s company and basking in the relaxing ambience created by silverware tapping against porcelain, hushed conversations, and the local country station playing through the old radio sitting on the counter. The reception is a little spotty way out here in wherever the hell you are, so you can’t quite tell what song it is. But Joel seems to know, judging by the rhythmic bouncing of his knee under the table that creates little circular ripples in your coffee. Maybe you’ll ask him what it is later, how he knows it, if you can listen to it again in the truck together. He doesn’t seem to be as much of an open book as you’ve already given yourself away to be, and you respect that about him. It doesn’t make you any less curious, but you resign yourself to getting to know him better in the small doses he’s willing to offer you.

You decide to begin a mental list of all the things you want to ask him later, knowing that by the time you make it to the motel tonight, you’ll be far too exhausted to do anything more than just collapse onto the springy mattress and sleep until you get kicked out of the room the next morning. You almost wish you hadn’t listened to Joel’s request for you to take your coffee decaffeinated tonight, and you still aren’t quite sure why you did. It just feels so strangely easy to give into him, to trust him, to let him make decisions for you. You suppose that’s what you’ve been needing all this time, someone to guide you and understand you and at least pretend like they care about you. Joel has shown you more concern and care and protection in the last hour or so than either of your parents have pretty much your whole life. And he’s good at this, making you feel wanted, making you feel like somebody, even in subtle ways, just by looking at you.

“A’right, why don’t you finish up, darlin’, ‘n we’ll hit the road again. Practically usin’ your pancakes as a pillow over there.”

“Oh, sorry,” you apologize sleepily, waking yourself up enough to make quick work finishing off your plate and your last few sips of coffee.

“Nothin’ to be sorry ‘bout, sweetheart. Lord knows you need some rest, won’t be too much longer now,” Joel assures, fishing a few tens out of his faded leather wallet and placing them on the table. He slides to the edge of the booth and stands himself up with only a few pained noises as he straightens out his back, then offers his hand for you to take. You use it as leverage to pull yourself upright, and your hands linger in each other’s hold for a few seconds longer than they need to. The hostess thanks the two of you for stopping in when you pass her by, and Joel opens the door for you again as you leave Moody’s. He opens the truck door for you, too, and promises you that the motel is just another couple of minutes down the freeway. You make an effort to stay awake in your seat this time as Joel begins the drive, opting to gaze out the window and focus on trying to make out the sparkling constellations above the treeline. You smile privately at the moon when you find that she’s following closely behind you just as she always does, bright and full.

She doesn’t leave your side until you reach the unassuming little roadside motel, which to your gratitude, proudly displays their vacancy on the flickering sign in the parking lot. It doesn’t look like a five star joint by any means, but you know it will serve its purpose just fine. Joel instructs you to stay in the truck while he goes about getting a room for the two of you, and you don’t object. He’d insisted that you didn’t need to be on your feet any longer than you already had been today, and you were too tired to argue with him even if you wanted to. When he returns, he taps lightly on the passenger side window so as not to startle you from the half-asleep, half-awake state you’ve found yourself in, and swings your backpack over his shoulder as he helps you out of the truck. He leads you to the room at the end of the row, and the door takes some finessing of the key and a shove of his shoulder to open. Joel flicks on the light, and you let out a disappointed-sounding ‘oh…’ when it reveals your accommodations.

There aren’t two beds like you had assumed Joel was going to request. There’s only one.

Joel catches your reaction. “‘S this gonna be alright? I know it ain’t the Ritz Carlton, but—”

“No, the room’s fine, it’s not that. I just thought… I just assumed that… I didn’t know it was gonna be, like… just the one bed.” You try to explain your discomfort as gently as possible, without seeming ungrateful for everything Joel has done for you tonight.

He looks at you sympathetically. “I know, I ain’t tryin’ anythin’, I swear. Guy told me it was the last room they had, jus’ figured it was better than nothin’.”

You offer him a soft smile, but your eyes must still look a little wide as you begin to nervously pick at your fingernails. Joel continues, “I can take the chair if you want, darlin’. Get the bed all to yourself, how’s that sound?”

You visibly relax at that, your shoulders deflating as your smile becomes a little more genuine. “Okay, that’s good. Thank you.”

“‘Course, sweetheart. How’s about you take a nice hot shower, rinse off some o’ that dirt you picked up from walkin’ all day… Don’t suppose you got some suitable clothes in here for sleepin’ in?” Joel asks, handing your backpack off to you.

You shake your head. “Just some jeans and t-shirts, and another pair of shoes. And… y’know, some underwear, and stuff.”

Joel pinches the bridge of his nose, then rubs his fingers across his forehead exasperatedly. “I swear… it’s like you didn’t think there’d be a tomorrow or somethin’, girl. Christ.” Joel looks out the window to his truck parked just outside. “Tell you what, think I got somethin’ in the truck you can wear. Why don’t you see if they got anythin’ on the TV tha’s worth a damn, ‘n I’ll be back, alright?”

You nod, “Okay,” then set your backpack down on the drab carpet in favor of picking up the remote perched in front of the small square television. You sit yourself down on the edge of the bed as Joel leaves the room, and begin to flick through the few channels that aren’t just a screen full of snowy static.

Local news. Commercial. Game show. Commercial. Documentary. Commercial.

Eventually, you land on what seems to be one of those old black-and-white western shows that you can never remember the name of. You only know that the reruns used to play on Sundays around lunchtime, because Rob would always be half paying attention to it with a beer in his hand when you and your mom would get home from church. For how adamant she was that you attend every weekend, she sure never called him a harlot and a sinner for not wanting to go with her. You’re not sure she had ever even tried to get him to go, but he probably didn’t own anything decent enough to wear, anyway. Whatever, fuck them. The show seems like the kind of thing Joel would like, so you let it keep playing.

He comes back a moment later with a small stack of folded up clothes, tossing them over to where you sit on the bed. You unfold what he’s given you and examine them—a pair of simple pink cotton shorts, and a white tank top with a ditsy floral pattern scattered across the fabric. The clothing is a little more revealing than you’d like, but you figure you’d be a hell of a lot more comfortable wearing them to sleep than the denim shorts you have on now.

“These are… great. Thank you, Joel. But…” you snicker. “Should I be concerned that you have a very convenient supply of girls’ clothes in your truck?” Joel scoffs. “‘S for when I got Tommy’s kid with me, smartass. He’s got a daughter, few years younger ‘n you.”

“Okay, well, I dunno how I was supposed to know that, but… as long as you don’t have a girlfriend who’s gonna come after me for wearing her clothes.”

Joel only chuckles in response, his attention suddenly pulled to the TV.

“Gunsmoke, huh? ‘S a good choice, definitely what I’d classify as ‘worth a damn’.”

You smile to yourself, and his approval makes that warm fluttery feeling return to your belly. “I didn’t even know what it was called, just seemed like something you’d like.”

He turns back to you. “That obvious, huh? ‘S just ‘cause I’m old and southern, ain’t it?”

“Maybe a little,” you admit, making a pinching gesture with your hand.

Joel nods as he makes his way over to the armchair on the corner of the room, collapsing onto it with a groan. “Well, why don’t you go ‘n get yourself all changed and cleaned up, ‘n if you’re quick enough maybe we can finish the episode together and then get some shuteye, hm?”

You swiftly unzip your backpack to retrieve one of your clean pairs of underwear, then bound over to the small bathroom with them and your new change of clothes in hand. It’s not the most spotless one you’ve ever had to use, but you’ve honestly seen much worse. You rinse off quickly in the steaming shower, using the scratchy motel-provided washcloth to scrub the dirt from your legs, stuck to you with the sweat you worked up from God knows how many miles of walking today.

Today. You can hardly believe it hasn’t even been a full 24 hours since you left home yet. It seems like you’ve already known Joel for days, maybe even years, as silly as it sounds. You wonder if he might just take you in after this, or if he’ll have had enough of providing for you after just one night. He seems like a man of limited means, and he’s already given you so much. If you’re brave enough, maybe you’ll ask him tomorrow, when you get to the ‘so… what now?’ part of your time together.

For now, you step out of the shower and dry yourself off with an impossibly scratchier towel, then pull on your panties and the tank top and shorts Joel provided you with.

Jesus, how much younger is Tommy’s daughter?

The shorts just barely cover your ass, and there’s a sizable gap between their waistband and the bottom hem of your top. The thin, white material of the shirt only serves to accentuate the way your nipples poke through the fabric, but you suppose there isn’t anything you can do about that.

You quietly crack open the bathroom door, and are somewhat relieved to find that Joel’s already fallen asleep in the chair. You do wish you could’ve finished the episode of Gunsmoke with him, but the end credits seem to be rolling already anyway, and you’d rather avoid being seen in your very ill-fitting pajamas. Although, you do wonder if he’d say anything, or if he’d just let his hungry gaze linger in silence again, holding himself back from touching you beyond a comforting pat on the thigh.

You pick the remote up off the bed and use it to make the TV screen sizzle to black, then tip toe over to the lightswitch by the door and turn it off, the room now completely shrouded in darkness. Joel snores softly from the chair as you blindly feel your way back over to the bed, pulling the covers back and nestling yourself underneath them. The bed is surprisingly comfortable, considering, and it doesn’t take long for your exhaustion to catch up with you. Your thoughts become slower and slower along with your breathing, and you’re asleep not even five minutes after your head hits the pillow.

—

The last room they had, yeah, right. You’re just the most pathetic little thing, aren’t you? You’ll believe just about anything that comes out of his mouth if he turns up the ‘southern charm’ dial a few ticks, throws in a feigned apologetic-looking expression for good measure. It’s sad, really. For you, anyway.

Joel fakes his snoring for another thirty minutes or so, until he’s certain you’re sound asleep. He had heard your breath even out almost immediately after you had tucked yourself in, but he had chosen to lay in wait for a little while longer, just to make sure you wouldn’t put up too much of a fight when he made his move. You don’t seem like the type, considering how you’d hardly argued with him at all tonight, like when he had convinced you to forgo the caffeine with your dinner. There’s a reason he wanted you sleepy and subdued tonight, but you didn’t know that. Joel likes how well you listen to him, how easily you do as he asks.

He also likes how warm you are, how small your body is compared to his own, the difference in size especially prominent now that he’s laying snugly against you, his front pressing firmly into the back of you. You don’t wake from his lumbering movement, only coming to slightly when you feel his arm slide underneath your body, his warm hand snaking its way beneath your tiny shirt to squeeze at your plush tits.

You mumble out a little “Hm?”, which he’s quick to quiet with, “Sorry, darlin’. Chair was too hard on my damn back. Just go back to sleep, ‘kay?” That chair felt like laying on a goddamn cloud compared to some of the other surfaces he’s found himself having to sleep on before, but again, you don’t know that, and what you don’t know won’t hurt you. You probably won’t even remember this in the morning, how his hard cock is slotted so perfectly against your ass, especially without the confines of his thick jeans holding him back. They’re discarded onto the floor now in front of the armchair, along with his flannel shirt and jacket. Joel holds you tightly against his bare, hairy chest as he circles a roughened pad of his finger around one of your nipples, smirking to himself at how quickly the bud hardens from his touch. He knew you wanted this, and the wet spot that the fingers of his other hand are teasing in the gusset of your panties is proof of it. How long have you been leaking for him like this? Had you been soaking the seat of his truck earlier today? Filthy thing.

You still don’t rouse when he pulls your panties aside and slips a finger inside your slick cunt, or when his grip on your tit loosens in favor of sliding up higher under your tank top, his hand coming to a rest around the base of your throat as he pumps his finger in and out of your tight heat. It would be so fucking easy…

But he can’t, he won’t, because you’re not like the others. You want to get to know him, you let him take care of you, you seem to like his company, and you don’t leap out of bed and call him a fucking perv and a dirty old man for what he’s doing to you. That’s what the others would have done. It’s what they have done. And they faced the consequences.

But you’re different. You’re not like them. You’re like him. A lost soul, that’s what you are. Nowhere to call home, no one who misses you or loves you or gives a damn what happens to you. Joel’s mouth had tasted bitter when he had told you about Tommy, or rather, lied about him. Joel hasn’t seen the fucker in years, certainly doesn’t pay him any visits or watch his brat, not since Tommy had learned the truth. You better not show your goddamn face around here ever again, you understand me? Tommy had spat at him. You’re fuckin’ sick. Only reason I don’t turn your ass in myself is ‘cause you’re my goddamn brother. But if I ever fuckin’ see you again, I won’t hesitate. Better make yourself pretty fuckin’ scarce ‘fore I change my mind. That might’ve been about the only time Joel had ever taken orders from his little brother.

That bitter flavor is cut by the sweet tang of you that he tastes on his finger now, so young and eager and fresh. The hand around your throat squeezes a little tighter, and Joel’s hips begin to move against your ass as he allows himself to suck wet kisses onto the skin under the hinge of your jaw. Softly, gently, so as not to wake you. He could come just like this, using your pliant body in your sleep, rutting himself against your still form with the taste of your pussy on his tongue and his fingers pressed against your pulse points.

He’s close when you stir again, making broken hiccuping sounds as you choke on your breath.

“Shh, shh,” Joel soothes. “You’re alright, sweetheart. ‘S just me. Just—fuck—hold still, go back to sleep, baby.” You let out a quiet whimper, squirming against him just a little bit, but return to your unmoving and silent state a second later. Joel finishes himself off quickly with another couple of shallow thrusts against you, his large hand still gripped around the column of your neck, trying to stifle his groans as he spills into his briefs. He removes his suffocating hand and keeps you pressed tightly against him for a while after that, tanned arms wrapped around your waist and breathing in your scent as he waits for you to settle back down.

When he’s sure he won’t disturb you again, Joel releases you from his hold and pads quietly back over to the armchair, redressing himself and resuming the position you had left him in. In the morning, if you do remember any of it, you’ll just chalk it up to a very strange dream, one fueled by the desire he knows you’ve felt towards him since he picked you up. You’ll be left with a strange assuredness that he feels the same way about you, without really knowing why.

But Joel will always know.

—

The digital clock on the nightstand only reads around 8:00 when you’re awoken by a beam of sunlight shining brightly against the backs of your eyelids, streaming in from the window’s lopsided blinds. You had gone to sleep with your back to Joel, but you find yourself facing him now. He looks kind of peaceful when he’s asleep, that permanent furrow etched between his brows finally smoothed out as he dozes. A small smile tugs at the corners of your lips, but they fall quickly when you adjust your legs and feel the cool dampness against your core, the sensation bringing back the memory of the dream you’d had last night.

It had felt so real, but it couldn’t have been, could it? There’s no evidence that Joel had really laid next to you last night, that he’d really touched you like that, that you’d wanted him to keep going. It must just be some kind of strange side effect of the affection you feel toward the man who had rescued you, more or less. You’ll likely just part ways after today, anyway, so it’s probably best to just try and forget about the whole thing, put on a fresh pair of underwear and pretend it never happened.

Joel is awake by the time you’re done freshening up in the bathroom, and he greets you with a raspy ‘Mornin’, sweetheart’ as you retrieve your backpack from next to the bed and shove your ruined underwear into the bottom of it. “You get some good sleep last night?” He asks, rubbing a hand over his eye.

“Mhm, the bed was nice, more comfortable than the one I had at home, honestly.” You finish zipping your backpack closed and sit back down on the bed, pulling on some socks and the lace up sneakers you had been wearing yesterday. “I hope the chair was okay, like, for your back and everything.”

“What makes you say that, baby?”

You pause in the middle of tying one of your shoelaces, turning to look at him with a confused pout. “Didn’t you…? I thought you had told me something about how the chair would be hard on your back. Like, last night.”

Joel frowns, shaking his head. “Don’t think so, darlin’. Chair was just fine.”

“Oh… Well, that’s good.”

Maybe it had just been a dream, then.

Joel hands you a few bills from his wallet, and tasks you with getting the two of you some breakfast from the gas station across the street while he cleans himself up. He tells you that he doesn’t eat much in the mornings, but that you can get yourself whatever you want, as long as you bring him back a carton of cigarettes and a black coffee. You obey eagerly, retrieving what he asked for and getting a pack of miniature powdered donuts and an equally as sugary coffee for yourself.

He’s just stepped out of the bathroom when you return to the room, and your face feels hot when you see him with his dark hair slicked back and wet from the shower. The few strands that fall onto his forehead as he laces up his boots almost make him look a little boyish, despite his whitened temples.

“Such a good girl, thank you,” Joel praises when you hand him his items.

You respond with a shy ‘You’re welcome’, but he doesn’t miss how you seem to light up at his words. You plop yourself down onto the worn-in chair that Joel had used as a bed last night, happily munching on your gas station donuts and sipping on your coffee. It all makes you feel warm from the inside out.

But you figure you should find out what the rest of today might look like before you let yourself enjoy the beginnings of it too much.

“So, um… We’re just gonna check out this morning and then… what?”

“Whaddya mean, baby?”

“I mean… are you just gonna, like… take me to the nearest bus station or something?”

Joel’s confusion is written all over his face, embedded deep into those lines between his brows. You could swear he almost looks a little hurt. “Why would I do that? ‘S that what you want?” He asks softly.

You try to backpedal a little, afraid you might’ve offended him or seemed ungrateful in your question. “I just thought it might be what you want. That you probably have somewhere else you need to be, like Tommy’s or—”

“No, I don’t,” Joel says definitively.

You pause. “Okay, so—”

“You ever been to California?”

His question stumps you for a moment, seeming so random in its nature. “No.”

“You want to?”

You shrug. “I mean… sure. Maybe someday—”

“Why don’t you come with me then, baby?”

You let out an awkward giggle. “...Come with you where?”

“To California. Come with me.” Joel’s tone is genuine but firm.

“Like, today? Are you sure?”

“I mean, we ain’t gettin’ there today, darlin’. But yeah, I’m sure. We both got nowhere else to be, do we? So let’s just go, we’ll see it together.”

You beam up at him, realizing that he’s being serious. Joel does want you, wants you to be his companion, maybe even something more that you’ll discover on familiar-looking back roads and in cities you’ve only ever seen pictures of.

“Okay,” you agree excitedly.

Joel nods. “Okay, then. Lemme go check us out ‘n we’ll get back on the road again. Burnin’ daylight already,” he jokes. He carries your backpack out to the truck for you, setting it down between your feet after he opens the door and helps you inside with a stable hand. It only takes a few minutes for Joel to hand in the room key and pay for the night, and then he’s back at your side. You begin to feel like that’s where you always want him to stay.

“So, where to first, baby? California ain’t goin’ anywhere, can take as long to get there as we wanna. We’ll go wherever you like, take your pick.” Joel leans across your body to dig a folded up map out of the glove compartment, handing it to you.

You examine it, your eyes darting across the dozens of dots with the names of cities next to them, some you’ve never even heard of. You point to one that you have heard of, but have never been to, because you’ve never even left the state you grew up in before.

“Um… how about Detroit? I’ve heard it’s nice, I think.”

Joel belly laughs at that. “It ain’t, but sure. You wanna go to Detroit, that’s where we’ll go. Buckle up, baby,” he instructs, patting your thigh. You oblige, and it feels good to finally know where you’re going, and that you’re going there with someone who cares about you, who feels safe, who wants you around. You also feel a little hopeful that maybe you were right about Ruby, after all. That you didn’t start walking for nothing, that you weren’t following some childish delusion, that if something as good as Joel had happened to you when you left, that maybe she had found herself on a similar path, ran into somebody good who took her wherever she wanted to go and helped her find someplace she belonged. Maybe she found her way out to California, eventually. What you are certain of is that neither of you ever have to go back to that town ever again, and that feels good, too.

And if it feels good, then it can’t be bad.

tag list: tag list: @beefrobeefcal @iamasaddie @rebel-held @dilfgestivo @zliteraturehoe @joeldjarin @kamcrazy123 @hellowoolf @rexamongthestars @stevie75 @luxurychristmaspudding @noisynightmarepoetry @mewantpeepaw @pedritoferg @alex-does-art-things @evolnoomym @annoyingmarvelreader @k1l4ni @joelsdagger (if your name is crossed out, it won’t let me tag you!!)

#my writing #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #joel miller smut #dark!joel miller #dark!joel x reader

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thatfandomslut · 10 months ago

Text

Princess

Regina George x Reader

Word Count: 1.1k

Trigger Warnings: homophobia, physical bullying that results in injury, fluffy ending

Frankly this isn't my favorite fic I've written but I have tried my very best.

Request:

HEYYY omggg can i request ANYTHING with regina pls i dont care what it is:3 thank you!!

Synopsis:

After someone hurts the reader, Regina will make sure everyone knows not to hurt her princess.

Mean Girls (2024) requests are open.

Regina George was the Queen Bee at North Shore High. She was confident, brilliant, and ambitious. Regina could bring the entire school to their knees if she wanted. Only one person rivaled Regina George in popularity, and that was the only person Regina had a soft spot for. (Y/n) (L/n) was proclaimed Regina's princess by none other than Regina herself. On her own, (Y/n) didn't feel special, but Regina ensured she knew she was. While Regina lived for the popularity, (Y/n) could care less, but it was nice not to get bullied by the jock branch of the school's social structure.

While Gretchen Wieners was Regina's right-hand woman, as she deemed herself to be, (Y/n) could always be found on Regina's side. Regina was someone who was motivated by words of affirmation and physical touch. So, while she was touching (Y/n) in some way, whether their knees were touching or her hand was placed delicately on (Y/n)'s thigh, she reveled in the compliments she received from her girlfriend. Nothing boosted Regina's ego more than the love of her life, her princess, flirting with her shamelessly at the lunch table, not caring if Gretchen, Cady, or Karen heard.

However, today (Y/n) wasn't at the lunch table, in her usual spot. She tended to have everything ready for Regina by the time she reached the cafeteria. This ensured a few minutes alone as the other Plastics were forced to wait in line while (Y/n) and Regina talked about whatever they wanted without the listening ears of the other girls. Regina's brows furrowed as she looked around and didn't see the girl still. "Maybe she's still in class," Gretchen offered, earning a glare from Regina who sent a message to (Y/n), wondering where she was. Perhaps Gretchen was right though. As time passed, Regina grew impatient and agitated over (Y/n)'s absence.

After all, Regina knew that (Y/n) was present that day. They had walked to their homeroom class and their shared first period together. Tapping her fingers on the table, she was becoming more restless. "I'm going to go find her," Regina stated, standing up to leave. The girls went to follow her, but Regina stopped them. She wanted to go alone, and she didn't need Gretchen's constant pestering during their search. Quite frankly, she was also slightly annoyed over the fact that (Y/n) hadn't answered her text message.

As she passed one of the stairwells, Regina heard sniffling causing her to take a step back to see if it was who she thought it was. "Princess," her voice echoed the area, and (Y/n) looked up. Regina's previous annoyance was now abandoned as she saw the puffy lip and bruising eye adorning her girlfriend's face. Making her way over, Regina took (Y/n)'s chin into her feeling delicately as she wiped away some of the driving blood under her busted lip. "Who did this?" Her voice sounded leveled and cold. (Y/n) wiped a tear from her good eye, nervous to touch her other one since it was still stinging. Noticing this, Regina brushed a gentle finger to help rid the girl of her tears.

(Y/n) was led to the bathroom as Regina cleaned her face up. Only (Y/n) was allowed to be exposed to how gentle she could be. "You still haven't answered me, princess," Regina whispered, examining her face, and searching to make sure there was nothing she missed. "You felt like they had the right to hurt you? I need to know so I can burn them to the ground." For someone who was threatening (Y/n)'s bully, she only sounded calm and caring towards the girl in front of her. (Y/n) knew deep down that she also wasn't going to keep it from Regina. She just didn't want to be a snitch or make things worse. But maybe things were already worse at this point. After all, Regina had the sweetest tone in her voice but the most dangerous fire (Y/n) had ever seen in her eyes.

(Y/n) swallowed thickly wincing slightly when she licked her lip. She had forgotten how swollen and sore it was. "Marianne Hayes," she told Regina quietly, feeling Regina's fingers intertwine with (Y/n)'s. Regina's brow rose, wanting to hear everything that had happened. "She said I was sinning, being with a girl as she walked by me in the hall. So, I told her to say it to my face. That's when she turned and punched me. She got another punch in before her friend pulled her off. She reminded them that I was your girlfriend. Marianne made sure to point out that I was defenseless without you before she left, too. Which I'm not! The punch just caught me off guard and… I don't know. She always says things like that to me." (Y/n) expressed, sighing softly as the bell rang. They were supposed to be going to class, but neither of them moved.

(Y/n)'s words were also a revelation to Regina. Nodding slowly, she listened intently. "What do you mean she always says things like that to you? Why didn't you tell me she was talking shit to you?" Regina questioned. The quirk in her brow never left her face as she stared at her girlfriend with care and worry.

"I guess I never felt like it was important to bring up." (Y/n) muttered, looking away. A clear indication she was lying. There was more, and Regina squeezed her hands comfortingly. (Y/n) could be honest with her. She'd always listen to anything and everything that she had to say. "Okay, I suppose I felt like… If I didn't handle this, she'd be right, That I was just your little dog who couldn't defend myself. I wanted to prove that, yes, I'm your girlfriend, and yes, I'm proud, but… I can also defend myself. When I finally had the opportunity, she punched me."

Regina kissed her forehead in understanding. "You are not my dog. You are so much more than whatever the fuck Marianne, of all people, thinks of you. I will make sure she burns to the ground. You are my girlfriend, princess, and I know that you think you need to do things on your own, but I'm here for you." Regina cupped (Y/n)'s cheek gently. For anyone else in the school, seeing Regina this caring and soft was strange. But for (Y/n), this was her girlfriend. She was always this soft with her. "Now, come on. We're going to my house and we are going to watch a dumb romcom." (Y/n) smiled at this, allowing Regina to lead her out of the school, thankful to spend the rest of the day cuddled up to the blonde with She's All That playing on her wide-screen TV.

#regina george x reader #regina george #mean girls x reader #mean girls

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nsharks · 2 years ago

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can we see more of dad ghost ♥︎ im obsessedLMAO

“soft around the edges”

aka when ghost’s son runs up to him in front of the team (a little part 2 to this fic. part 3 here.)

Soap doesn't share the Lieutenant's secret with the rest of the force.

Things go back to normal after that brief, bizarre encounter with you. When their break is over, Ghost carries on the typical dry humor and sharp orders, pretending that Soap never had dinner at his cozy home and met his pregnant wife.

Though, MacTavish does notice little differences in his stoic superior turned new dad. Ghost is shockingly, and ever-so-slightly, nicer. His language is still foul. But he's a little less rough around the edges: compliments Soap a bit more, tells him to shut the fuck up a little bit less.

It's not something that any of the others notice, of course, which is why they are all so baffled when they finally do figure out about Ghost's secret family.

It's two years later when they are disbanding at a base in the UK that you accidentally reveal yourself.

It's truly an accident.

Whenever you pick him up from the military base, Simon instructs you to wait outside. Says he doesn't want to put you at any risk. But you have a knack for not listening to him. You missed him so much during the past four months, and the two-year-old in your arms was old enough to start asking where his dad was, so you figured you could wait for him inside this time, hidden away in a corner.

Your plan might have worked if it weren't for the swell of your belly making it difficult for you to hold the squirming toddler.

He recognizes his dad even with the skull mask on.

Immediately starts to yelp for him, kicking his little feet around, and giving you no choice but to set the toddler down for a second. But your son is growing so much, and he's got his father's determination.

It's definitely riveting for Soap and the team to witness the whole thing unfold.

At first sight, the waddling two-year-old boy doesn't faze them. There were usually family members and little ones waiting at the gate. Gaz and Price are saying their goodbyes when they both notice that the toddler running around is coming in their direction. Or more specifically, in Ghost's direction.

Soap knows right away what's happening.

Watches with raised brows.

For the rest of the team, this is the first time they witness Ghost's demeanor shift to something so soft and peculiar. His mannerisms give everything away before the kid even reaches him: a typically-unfazed Ghost looks around frantically, probably wondering how the hell his son even got here, until he spots you waddling sheepishly after him.

Oh, fuckin' hell.

You give your husband an apologetic look that says I'm sorry and help me at the same time.

“Can’t believe what I’m seeing," Gaz mutters, watching as Ghost bends down to pick up the small child.

Tell me 'bout it, Soap wants to say. But he's already gone through the initial disbelief two years ago, so now, he simply watches with knowing eyes.

He can't say he didn't spend some time the past two years wondering what kind of parents you and Ghost had become. He knew bits and pieces of his past and hesitantly wondered if Ghost had carried on that behavior.

But now he witnesses the Lieutenant scoop the toddler in his arms, making him look so small against his broad chest. “I’ve got ya, kid.” And he is tucking the boy's head underneath his chin and pressing his masked nose to the top of his hair.

Then, the toddler reaches a small hand to his mask and pats it, perhaps harder than he realizes, but Ghost simply shakes his head and patiently wraps his much larger hand around the curious little one’s.

Ghost is soft and gentle and anything but angry, even though you worried that he might have been.

Everything seems to sink in for the team when they see you finally reach your husband. Your mouth moving to rush out apologies:

"I'm sorry, Simon, I know you said to wait outside. We just really wanted to see you and I tried to hold him and-"

And Ghost might have been frustrated on another day. But on this day, he’s just relieved to see you again. It's apparent to all of the eyes watching that this brooding man, with his deadpan eyes and a trademark mask, is utterly and unabashedly in love with you and the little family you have gifted him. Finally able to fully relax as he wraps an arm around your waist and nuzzles your neck, something you could never imagine him doing in public like this a few years ago.

“S’okay, love,” he tells you. “Can’t be mad, can I? Not when I get to see you two.”

You’re carrying his second child and he hasn't seen you in months and he simply doesn't give a fuck at the moment.

To his team watching, the Lieutenant seems like another person.

They're watching Simon, not Ghost.

"That's his girl, then?" Alejandro finally asks, as they have been frozen in place. Watching in curiosity and bewilderment.

“Wife seems like,” Gaz says. Shooting Soap a curious look, he adds, “Did you know anything about this?”

“Hell,” Soap shrugs to feign innocence. “Didn’t know a thing-“

But, of course, you’re soon waving over at him and smiling before your husband can stop you. “Hi, Johnny!”

Guilty and caught, Soap offers a small wave in return before shaking his head. “Christ, alright. May have ran into them awhile back.”

“And you didn’t tell us, MacTavish?” Gaz scoffs.

“Not my secret to tell,” Soap shrugs again and watches as Ghost caresses your pregnant stomach. He leans down to whisper something in your ear and you smile coyly at him, planting a little kiss to the cheek of his hard mask. Ghost is somehow able to hold you and your son firmly against his chest and still have more room. Must be what had the two of you realizing that a fourth family member was needed.

Soap hears the snide remarks as your family leaves and is out of earshot.

Looks like Ghost keeps himself busy on leave.

You think he helps with the diapers?

The kid’s even got his eyes.

Reckon he takes the mask off during sex?

Finally, Soap groans out, “Haud yer wheesht. That’s enough.”

“Sergeant’s right,” Price, whose own surprise has faded into something more stern, quiets the members of the team who are still lingering. “That’s your superior you’re gosspin’ about. Show some respect and bugger off.”

But once the Captain is gone, Soap allows himself this one quip (because, he’d been so good at not sharing what he’d seen for two years).

It’s a quiet one that he mentions only to Kyle.

“He takes her shopping an’ carries all the bags. Saw it myself.”

#simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x reader #cod #call of duty #fanfiction #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #ghost #fluff #simon ghost riley x reader #fem!reader #dad ghost

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jaysgirlx · 9 months ago

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nerdy shit jason does hcs? :3

Nerdy Jason Todd Headcanons

— Jason Todd loves his classics, especially his poetry. He annotates his spare Slyvia Plath books just for him to do it again because he believes to fully understand a book you have to read it a million times until it really clicks.

— As a joke he likes to reference or recite poetry lines but no one really seems to get it except Tim and Duke.

— No matter what poor Jason cannot DNF a book even if it is complete and utter shit. This is because he believes all books deserve a chance.

— He tries to buy a new book every week to keep himself on his toes and just so he doesn't lose his reading habit. He even uses Booktok for the occasional book recs.

— Yes he's on Booktok but only for the recommendations. he does give a duck for Booktok drama unless somebody is talking shit about his beloved Emily Dickinson.

— Jason loves Star Wars and growing up used to look up to Han Solo. He never brings it up though because he know Dick will use it as blackmail.

— He hates when people assume he's a himbo because he works out especially Bruce because what hurts more than your own father believing you're an idiot?

— He loves chilling at the library or sometimes studying random topics for the fun of it. It makes me wonder how things would be if he went to college.

— He has glasses but only wears them when he's reading so that he doesn't strain his eyes. He's gotten a lot of compliments on them but he's still not used to them.

— If he were to ever meet a girl it would either be a library or bookstore since he's really only ever at those two places. You might catch him at the videogame or even the comic book store.

— He enjoys gaming but more with his brothers, it's just not as fun alone and they all usually go to the comic bookstore together since they're all a bit nerdy too. Our Jason is the best at hiding his.

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lefteagleblizzard · 4 months ago

Text

ℭ𝔯𝔲𝔰𝔥 𝔞𝔠𝔯𝔬𝔰𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔢𝔢𝔱

Mike Schmidt x male reader

Summary: Life as a college student was hectic. You had always noticed Mike Schmidt, the quiet, brooding neighbor who lived just a few houses down. Though he was about five years older than you, that gap only fueled the intrigue and admiration you felt toward him. You admired the way he balanced his responsibilities, especially his care for his younger sister, Abby. Over the years, this admiration blossomed into a deep-seated crush that you couldn't quite shake off. Today, you finally got the chance to talk to him again after so much time due to you going to college.

Warnings: Age-gap (5 years) between you and Mike. Male reader. He/him pronouns used towards the reader. Fluff. Strangers/Friends to lovers. Smut at the end. Top Mike. Bottom reader. Reader being called “good boy”. Handjob (M receiving). Anal sex.

Words count: 5000

Part 2-Part 3-Part 4-Part 5-Part 6-Part 7-Part 8-Part 9-Part 10

Can also be found on wattpad and ao3

This is different from the usual gender-neutral stuff I write, and I’m sorry to those who are used to them. I’m just so sad about never being able to find a male reader story, something that I can relate to. Your support and understanding mean a lot to me!

You had always noticed Mike Schmidt, the quiet, brooding neighbor who lived just a few houses down. Though he was about five years older than you, that gap only fueled the intrigue and admiration you felt toward him.

Over the years, you often saw him in the mornings when he returned from work, his expression weary but softened when he exchanged a word or two with your father.

Those fleeting moments were enough to plant a growing crush in your heart, a mix of admiration and something deeper you couldn't quite name.

One crisp morning, as you grabbed your backpack, ready to head out to college, you ran into him.

Literally.

You were in such a rush that you barely noticed him until you bumped into his solid frame on the sidewalk.

"Whoa, sorry about that," he chuckled, a warm sound that made your heart race. His hazel eyes, always a bit shadowed with fatigue, brightening just a little at the sight of you.

His hair was slightly tousled, and there was a shadow of stubble on his chin, which somehow made him even more attractive.

The sight of him made your heart skip a beat, a reaction you were becoming increasingly familiar with but were still not quite used to.

You felt your cheeks heat up, embarrassed by your clumsiness but secretly thrilled to be talking to him. "You're in a hurry, aren't you?"

His voice was deep and warm, like a comforting blanket after a long day.

You laughed nervously, trying to play it cool. "Yeah, running late as usual. What about you? Just getting back from work?"

"Yeah," he replied, scratching the back of his neck in a way you found endearing. His movements were tired yet graceful, revealing the strain of long nights but also a quiet resilience you admired. "Long night, But hey, it's good to finally bump into you —literally."

"You're looking... good." You regretted your choice of words almost immediately, feeling your face flush with embarrassment.

Mike chuckled softly, the sound warm and comforting, as if he was genuinely pleased by your compliment. "Thanks. You look great too. College must be treating you well."

"Thanks," you murmured, trying to hide your blush and not wanting to make a fool of yourself in front of him.

"The usual chaos. It's busy, but I'm hanging in there. I guess I'm learning a lot, though some days it feels more like I'm just trying to survive."

He chuckled, nodding knowingly. "Sounds about right. I remember those days, even if they were a bit short-lived for me. Dropping out to take care of Abby was the right choice, but sometimes I wonder what it would've been like to finish."

The way he spoke, his voice tinged with a mix of nostalgia and acceptance, made your heart ache. You admired him for the sacrifices he made. "You did what you had to do. Abby's lucky to have you looking out for her."

You stood there, both hesitant yet unwilling to end the conversation. It had been a while since you'd last talked. Life, college, and his busy schedule made these interactions rare. But when they happened, they were the highlight of your week. There was a warmth to his presence, a comforting steadiness that contrasted with the chaos of your daily life.

"So, how's Abby doing?" you asked, shifting the weight of your backpack on your shoulder. You knew how much she meant to him and how hard he fought to keep her happy and safe.

"She's great," Mike said, a genuine smile breaking through his usual guarded demeanor. His eyes softened, a hint of pride and affection in them. "Growing up way too fast, though. She actually asked about you the other day.

The idea that Abby remembered you, even though you'd only met a few times, warmed your heart. You tried to picture her as you remembered-a bright, inquisitive little girl who could light up a room with her laughter. "That's sweet. I should stop by more often."

"Yeah, you should," he replied, a glint in his beautiful hazel eyes that made your heart skip a beat. There was something earnest in his tone, something that suggested he wouldn't mind having you around more often. "She misses having someone around who doesn't mind her endless questions."

"I don't mind at all," you said quickly, realizing how eager you sounded. "In fact, I like talking to her. She's a really smart kid."

"She is," Mike agreed, his expression softening further.

"And you?" The question slipped out before you could stop it. "How are things going with... you know, the custody stuff?"

A shadow crossed his face, and you regretted bringing it up. You watched as his shoulders tensed slightly, and the easy smile slipped a notch.

"It's... it's been tough. My aunt's not making it any easier," he admitted, his voice tinged with frustration. There was a pause, a moment of shared understanding of the challenges he faced. You admired his strength, how he continued to push forward despite everything.

Your temper flared at the thought of the obstacles thrown his way. "That woman is just-" You caught yourself, but not before an unsavory word slipped out.

You covered your mouth, horrified, but Mike just laughed, a sound that was more soothing than you'd anticipated.

"You're not wrong," he said, his laughter fading into a soft smile. "But it's nice to know someone's on my side. You're cute when you're mad, you know that?"

The compliment caught you off guard, heat rushing to your cheeks. You tried to brush it off with a smile, but inside, you were glowing. He noticed, of course, but chose to let it slide.

"Well, I just... I hope things work out for you, Mike. You deserve that."

His gaze lingered on you, something unreadable in his eyes. You wondered what he saw when he looked at you and if he could sense the emotions you tried so hard to keep under wraps.

"Thanks. It means a lot coming from you" Then, as if suddenly remembering something, he added, "I need to find a new babysitter for Abby. The last one quit because, well, I can't really afford much right now."

Without thinking, you blurted out, "I could do it!" you offered eagerly, almost too quickly, the words spilling out before you had a chance to reconsider.

The offer hung in the air between you, and for a moment, you worried you'd overstepped.

But you couldn't help it. The thought of spending more time with him, getting to know him and Abby better, was too enticing to pass up.

Mike studied you, his expression softening. His eyes held a mix of surprise and gratitude, and you noticed how his lips curved up slightly at the edges, almost as if he was trying not to show too much emotion. "You'd really do that?"

"Of course," you replied, trying to sound casual despite the hammering of your heart. "I mean, I have some free time, and honestly, my college roommate is loud and annoying. Plus, I'd love to help."

He smiled, and it reached his eyes this time. There was a warmth there that seemed to envelop you, drawing you in. "That'd be great. I can't promise much in terms of payment, though."

"Don't worry about it," you said, waving a hand dismissively. "I'd be happy to help. It's not about the money. I'd love to help out, really. I've missed seeing you guys around."

Your heart pounded in your chest, both from the rush of making the offer and from the hope that he would accept.

The way he looked at you then, with a mixture of gratitude and something else— something hopeful—made you believe this was the start of something more.

You felt your heart flutter, a thrilling sensation that made you wonder if maybe he felt something too. "You're really something," he said softly, almost to himself.

You shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant even as your heart soared. "Just trying to do what I can."

"Well, thanks. Really," he said, his voice earnest. "It's nice to see you again after so long.

You nodded, feeling warmth spread through you at his words. "Yeah, it's good to see you to, Mike."

As you both parted ways, you couldn't help but glance back over your shoulder Mike was doing the same, and when your eyes met, he waved. You waved back, feeling a flutter of excitement.

This new arrangement was more than just a job; it was a chance to see him, to learn more about the man who had quietly captured your heart. And maybe, just maybe, it was the beginning of something that could change both your lives for the better.

As you walked away, your mind replayed the conversation. You noticed how Mike seemed to pay close attention to your words, how he listened intently as if every word mattered. It was a rare quality, one that made you feel truly seen and heard. You couldn't help but wonder if there was more beneath the surface of his smiles and laughter, if perhaps he harbored feelings that mirrored your own

Mike's presence lingered with you throughout the day, the memory of his rare smile and warm gaze etched into your thoughts. You found yourself imagining the moments you would share while babysitting Abby, the possibility of spending more time with Mike, getting to know him on a deeper level.

As you reached campus with a heart full of excitement and a mind brimming with thoughts of Mike, you headed into the day, eager for what the future might hold.

The first day of babysitting Abby was a mix of nerves and excitement. As you approached Mike's modest home, a cozy littie house with a well-kept garden, you couldn't help but feel a rush of anticipation and a bit of anxiety. You wanted to make a good impression and hoped that Abby would like you as much as you liked her brother.

Abby greeted you at the door, her eyes wide with curiosity and a hint of shyness. She was a bright, energetic girl with dark hair and a mischievous grin that reminded you so much of Mike. Her presence was immediately infectious, and you felt any lingering anxiety melt away.

"Hi, Abby! I'm here to hang out with you while your brother's at work. How does that sound?" you asked, bending down to her level, hoping to convey friendliness and approachability.

She nodded, her eyes lighting up with enthusiasm as if she had been eagerly anticipating your arrival. "Okay! Can we play with my toys?" Her excitement was palpable, and it was impossible not to be drawn into her world.

"Of course," you replied, smiling as she grabbed your hand and pulled you inside with a surprising amount of strength for such a small person. You were grateful for her enthusiasm, feeling your own spirits lift at the prospect of spending the day with her.

The hours flew by as you played games, read stories, and even painted together. Abby had a vivid imagination, and you found it easy to connect with her. She was talkative, often sharing stories about her day and asking about yours.

Her innocence and curiosity were refreshing, a welcome escape from the complexities of adult life.

"Do you like my brother?" Abby asked innocently, her eyes wide with curiosity as you helped her with her coloring book. Her question caught you off guard, and you felt a blush creeping up your neck.

"I think your brother is a really great person," you said carefully, hoping to dodge the deeper implications of her question. You didn't want to make things awkward or too serious.

She giggled, a knowing look in her eyes that made you wonder just how much she picked up on. "He likes you too. He talks about you sometimes" Her words sent a jolt through you, a mix of excitement and hope that you struggled to keep under control.

Your heart skipped a beat at her words.

Unbeknownst to you, Mike had returned home earlier than expected. He needed to grab some pills he'd forgotten and thought he'd quickly check in on how things were going. As he stepped inside, he heard the sound of Abby's laughter echoing through the house, drawing him toward the living room.

Peeking inside, Mike found you and Abby sprawled on the floor, surrounded by crayons and papers.

Abby was in the middle of telling a story, using her drawings as illustrations, her eyes alight with creativity. You listened intently, encouraging her with nods and comments, clearly engrossed in her imaginative tale.

For a moment, Mike simply stood there, watching the scene unfold before him. His heart swelled with warmth and admiration as he saw the joy on Abby's face, the ease with which you interacted with her. It was a sight he hadn't realized he longed to see, and it stirred something deep within him.

Seeing you there, so effortlessly connecting with Abby, made him fall even more in love with you. It wasn't just your kindness or the way you made Abby laugh, it was the way you seemed to understand her, to know exactly how to make her feel valued and cherished.

Mike cleared his throat, stepping into the room. "Looks like you two are having fun."

You looked up, surprised but pleased to see him. "Hey, Mike. We're just finishing up Abby's latest masterpiece."

Abby beamed at her brother, waving her drawing triumphantly. "Look what we made!”

He approached, crouching beside you to examine the masterpiece. "I love it.”

Abby beamed, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of pride at her joy. "We make a good duo," you agreed, catching Mike's eye. There was something in his gaze, a warmth and appreciation that made your heart flutter.

"Thanks for today," Mike said, his voice low enough for only you to hear. "It means a lot to see her so happy"

"It was my pleasure," you replied, feeling your cheeks heat up under his scrutiny. "She's a wonderful kid."

As the days turned into weeks, your bond with both Abby and Mike deepened. You found yourself looking forward to each visit, eager to spend time with Abby and, more secretly, to see Mike. He was kind, patient, and had a dry sense of humor that often caught you off guard and made you laugh until your sides hurt.

Abby quickly became a friend, often sharing her thoughts and ideas with you. "Do you want to see my drawing?" she'd ask, holding up a colorful sketch that she'd made with all the innocence and creativity of a child.

"Wow, Abby, that's amazing!" you'd respond, genuinely impressed by her creativity. "You've got a real talent." Her pride in her work was infectious, and you felt a deep sense of fulfillment knowing you were making a positive impact in her life, fostering her confidence and creativity.

Meanwhile, your interactions with Mike grew more frequent and meaningful. Sometimes, after Abby had gone to bed, you and Mike would sit in the living room, sharing a beer or a cup of tea, discussing everything from music to movies to life's challenges. These moments became the highlight of your day, a chance to unwind and connect on a deeper level.

One evening, as you settled onto the couch after a long day, Mike handed you a steaming mug of tea, his fingers brushing yours briefly. The contact sent a jolt of electricity through you, and you wondered if he felt it too. Your heart skipped a beat at the possibility, and you felt a warmth spreading through your chest.

"You're really easy to talk to," Mike said, his voice sincere, cutting through the quiet hum of the room. "I don't get that a lot." His admission made your heart swell, knowing that you were someone he felt comfortable with, someone he valued.

"I feel the same way, Mike," you admitted, feeling a warmth in your chest that was becoming all too familiar. "It's nice having someone who gets me and doesn't think I'm weird for my horror movie obsession."

You wanted him to know that you felt a connection, a shared understanding that was rare and precious.

He chuckled, shaking his head, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "I think it's cool. Most people just give me funny looks when I tell them I enjoy those films." His smile was infectious, and you couldn't help but smile back, feeling a sense of camaraderie and mutual understanding.

"Then they're missing out," you said, a smile playing on your lips, enjoying the banter and the ease with which you could share these moments with him.

You found yourself opening up to Mike in ways you hadn't with anyone else, revealing dreams and fears that you usually kept hidden.

There was a trust between you, a sense of safety that encouraged honesty and vulnerability.

"I always wanted to be a writer," you confessed one night, surprised by your own admission. The words felt heavy and significant, a part of yourself that you hadn't shared with many people. "But I don't know if I'm good enough."

Mike looked at you thoughtfully, his gaze steady and encouraging, as if he could see the potential within you. "I think you'd be great. You have a way with words, and you see things differently. That's a gift." His words filled you with a warmth that lingered long after the evening had ended, a validation that resonated deeply with you.

You often caught yourself daydreaming about him, replaying conversations and imagining what it might be like to tell him how you really felt.

The movie you've found online and that you were currently watching, an old, obscure horror film, played on his TV. The film was terrible, with laughable special effects and wooden acting, but it provided ample opportunity for humor.

You tried to focus on the movie, but you found yourself constantly distracted by Mike. The way his eyes crinkled when he laughed, the sound of his chuckle, and the way he seemed genuinely relaxed in your presence made you feel special and welcomed.

"There's something about these films that just never gets old," Mike said, his eyes still glued to the screen as a particularly ridiculous scene unfolded. "I mean, look at that monster. It looks like it was made from papier-mâché. Did they really think that scene would be scary?" Mike chuckled, shaking his head. His laughter was contagious, a sound that filled the room with warmth and lightened the weight of the day.

"Right?" you replied, though your focus was more on him than the film. You watched the way his smile lingered, the subtle way his body leaned toward you as if drawn by an invisible force.

You were lost in thought, contemplating the words that had been on the tip of your tongue for weeks. Watching him enjoy himself, knowing that you were part of the reason he could unwind, filled you with a sense of pride and affection that was hard to ignore.

"There's something I need to tell you," you began, your voice steady but your heart racing. The words were heavy on your tongue, but you knew it was time to speak your truth.

His expression shifted slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing his features. He sensed the seriousness of your tone and straightened, giving you his full attention.

"What's on your mind?" His voice was calm and steady, a reassurance that made the confession feel a little less daunting.

You took a deep breath, gathering your courage and pushing past the fear of rejection. "I really like spending time with you, Mike. And not just as a friend. I've felt this way for a while now." The admission hung in the air between you, a truth that couldn't be taken back.

For a moment, Mike looked at you with wide eyes, clearly caught off guard by your confession, His initial surprise was evident, and you could see the conflict playing out in his mind. He opened his mouth to speak but seemed to struggle to find the right words.

His thoughts were a jumble of emotions and concerns. The age difference between you, Abby, and his financial struggles weighed heavily on him. He didn't want you to feel tied to him, not because he didn't feel anything for you, but because he knew he couldn't give you everything you deserved.

"... I didn't expect this," he finally said, his voice laced with uncertainty. "I care about you a lot, but... it's complicated. You're younger than me. I have a lot of responsibilities with Abby and work. There's a lot I can't give you, and I don't want you to feel stuck because of me. You deserve better" His words were hesitant, filled with an internal struggle that made your heart ache for him.

You understood his hesitation, could see the conflict in his eyes, but you also saw the way he looked at you, the warmth and affection that couldn't be hidden. It was enough to give you hope, to make you want to show him that you didn't care about the obstacles, only about him.

Gently, you moved closer to him, closing the space between you. His eyes widened slightly, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he seemed frozen, waiting to see what you would do next.

Reaching up, you cupped his cheek with your hand, feeling the roughness of his stubble against your palm. "I just want to be here with you." Your voice was soft but firm, a quiet promise of your intentions.

Then, slowly, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his. It was a gentle, tentative kiss, one that held all the feelings you hadn't been able to put into words. For a moment, Mike seemed surprised, his body tensing at the unexpectedness of it all. But then, he melted into the kiss, his hesitation giving way to something deeper.

His hand found your waist, his fingers tightening slightly as he pulled you closer, closing any remaining distance between you.

The kiss was slow and tender, a shared moment that spoke volumes about what words couldn't convey.

You felt him relax against you, his internal conflicts momentarily forgotten as you both gave in to the feelings you had been harboring for so long.

His other hand reached up to gently cradle your head, deepening the kiss as he finally allowed himself to accept what was between you.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and heart racing, you looked into his eyes and saw the worry and doubt had been replaced by something softer and more hopeful.

"Well, that was unexpected," Mike said softly, breaking the silence. His voice was a gentle rumble, carrying a hint of wonder and disbelief.

"In a good way, I hope?" you replied, your own voice barely above a whisper.

"In a very good way," he assured you, his lips curving into a smile that sent a flutter of joy through you.

"I've wanted to do that for a long time," you admitted, a small smile playing on your lips as you stayed close, unwilling to let the moment end.

"Me too," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "l'm still scared about what this means, but I know I don't want to lose what we have."

You leaned in closer, feeling his breath mingle with yours, and captured his lips in another kiss. This one was softer, more lingering, a gentle exploration of the connection between you. It was a silent affirmation of the feelings you both shared, a testament to the bond that had grown between you over time.

You felt his hands slide up your back, pulling you even closer, while you wrapped your arms around his neck, reveling in the warmth and security of his embrace. The kiss deepened, and you lost yourself in the sensation of being so close to him, of sharing in this moment of intimacy and understanding.

A soft sound escaped your lips, a quiet sigh of contentment, and you felt him smile against your mouth. There was a playfulness to his touch now, a sense of joy that mirrored your own.

"Shh," he whispered teasingly, pulling back slightly, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

Mike's lips moved against yours with a growing urgency, his own quiet moans mingling with yours. He tried to keep quiet, pressing soft kisses against your lips to muffle your own sounds, though the effort only served to heighten the sensation, a delicious tension that wound tighter with each passing moment.

His efforts to remain quiet were punctuated by low, throaty grunts, each one a reminder of the passion that simmered between you.

The quiet of the room was punctuated by soft gasps and whispered names, a symphony of affection that crescendoed in perfect harmony.

With a gentle tug, he guided you onto his lap, his touch firm yet careful, as if handling something both precious and fragile. The movement was fluid, instinctive, a seamless continuation of the magnetic pull that had drawn you together on the porch. Your knees settled on either side of him, bringing you chest to chest, your faces inches apart. The heat of his body seeped through your clothes, a tangible reminder of the passion simmering just beneath the surface.

His hands found their place on your legs, fingers splayed to support and explore, tracing slow, deliberate paths along the fabric that covered your skin. It was as though he sought to memorize every contour, every curve, feeding the curiosity that had lingered in the recesses of his mind for years wondering how it would feel to finally hold you close.

You leaned in, capturing his lips with yours in a kiss that was both tender and insistent, a mingling of breath and heartbeat that spoke of shared longing and mutual surrender. The world outside faded further into oblivion, leaving only the two of you entwined in a dance of exploration and affection.

His tongue slipped into your mouth, exploring with a curiosity that had been held in check for too long. The sensation was intoxicating, a dance of intimacy that spoke of all the moments he had wondered, all the times he had imagined what it would be like to taste you.

Mike's quiet grunts of pleasure were a symphony to your ears. You could sense the tension in him, the effort it took to maintain control even as his own desires threatened to overwhelm him.

His fingers brushed over your back, tracing the line of your spine, before moving to explore the curve of your waist and the strength of your thighs.

You mirrored his exploration, your hands finding purchase on his shoulders, feeling the tension and release of muscle beneath your touch. Your fingers traveled to his neck, threading through his hair, drawing him even closer as the kiss became more fervent. It was a symphony of sensation-a blending of warmth, breath, and the gentle hum of shared affection that enveloped you both.

It was as if time itself had slowed, allowing you to savor each second, each heartbeat, as you became one in a language unspoken yet deeply understood.

His hands were slowly gliding all over your hips and lower back now, and they eventually made their way down to rest on your ass.

He squeezed, causing you to grind down against him and you moaned. You started prepping with kisses on his face, his stumble scratching your lips occasionally. Mike groaned in response, his eyes fluttering shut for a minute. You began a slow rhythm of rocking your hips against him, his head falling back to rest on the back of the couch.

"Good boy," Mike murmured against your lips, his voice a low, soothing rumble that vibrated through you. It sent a shiver down your spine, your heart swelling in response to the intimacy of the moment.

Mike's hands, confident yet gentle, found their way beneath the hem of your shirt, a silent question hanging in the air as his fingers brushed against bare skin. You nodded, granting permission. The fabric lifted, sliding over your skin with a whisper, leaving you vulnerable and exposed, yet utterly safe in his embrace.

His touch was electrifying, a gentle exploration of the expanse of your chest, the warmth of his hands grounding and exhilarating all at once.

You leaned up and captured Mike’s lips again in a bruising kiss, moaning into his mouth. His hips bucking up into yours as you quickened the movement of your hips against his.

He was trying to pull you even closer against his body to increase the friction between the two of you as much as possible.

He began peppering open-mouthed kisses all over your chest and collarbones. You sighed, and laced your fingers in his hair, relishing in the feeling of his lips all over you.

He began sucking on one of your nipples, moving one of his hands to play with your other, which earned him a suppressed moan from you and caused you to throw your head back. You tugged on his hair, and it only seemed to make him even more enthusiastic with his movements.

He suddenly stood up, moving his arms to hold onto you tightly as you gasped, but landed back onto the couch almost instantly. You were now laying on your back and still looking up at him as Mike reached to pull his gray shirt off.

He was so handsome.

He began undoing his belt and the button to his jeans, pushing them down his legs. He kicked the jeans off and kneeled down, placing a hand on your thigh and looking at you.

“Can I?” he asked. You didn’t waste a second nodding your head, and you watched as he took his time to pull off your jeans and underwear, throwing them onto the floor beside his own discarded clothes.

Mike didn’t take his eyes off of you for a single second, wanting to admire the sight of you and he moved so that he was now on top of you. He now had you pinned down against the couch cushion, and you felt your own heartbeat inside your eardrums.

He leaned down to kiss you again, his enthusiasm from earlier returning as he deepened the kiss instantly.

He shifted slightly, reaching over to a small drawer built into the side table next to the couch. You watched curiously as he pulled out a small bottle of lube. The position was a bit awkward, and you couldn't help but give him a puzzled look, wondering why it was there instead of in his room.

Mike caught your expression and stuttered slightly, a hint of a blush coloring his cheeks. "Uh, well, I keep it here because of Abby. She tends to rummage around my room looking for toys or paper to draw on."

You giggled at the thought, imagining Abby innocently sifting through Mike's things, completely unaware of what she might find. "That makes sense," you said with a smile, amused by his predicament.

He chuckled along with you, the tension in the air dissolving into something more playful and intimate. With a deft motion, he flicked open the cap of the bottle and poured a small amount onto his fingers, his movements careful and deliberate.

You watched, fascinated, as he spread the substance between his fingers, his focus returning to you with a renewed intensity. There was something thrilling about the trust and care in his actions, a silent promise that you were in good hands.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked softly, his gaze steady and reassuring.

You nodded, feeling your heart race with anticipation and excitement. "Absolutely" you replied, meeting his eyes with unwavering confidence.

His hand slowly trailed from its place at your side, down your hip before moving it to the space between your thighs. You gasped slightly when you felt his touch on your dick, causing fireworks to set off all throughout your body.

You moaned into his mouth now that Mike was touching you exactly where you needed him and he picked up the pace, pumping you as you began to let out soft moans at his touch. He flicks his finger over your tip, which was now leaking profusely.

Your hand returned itself to tangle in his hair while your other made its way to his shoulder to steady yourself.

“Does that feel good, baby?” He questioned, and you could’ve swore he was smirking against your lips.

You whined and nodded slightly. You had very little control over your reactions at this point, and Mike was well aware of this. He quickened his pace once again, and you were beginning to squirm underneath him.

It seemed like he was having a lot of fun at this point, amused by all of the reactions he was dragging out of you. You weren’t sure how this could get any better when he had maneuvered his hand lower, beginning to thrust his middle finger deep into your hole.

Another loud moan, muffled by your own hand, escaped your lips and you squeezed your eyes shut at the sensation, clenching your thighs together around his hand.

He pulled his head away and began biting your jaw, sucking hard enough that it will definitely leave a mark tomorrow, but you were too focused on his finger moving inside of you to care.

Mike then added his ring finger and you whined loudly, tugging on his hair. He let out a groan, and began fucking you faster, causing you to come into his hand, and onto your stomach.

Your back arching off of the couch and your fingers digging into his shoulder, but he didn’t seem to mind one bit.

He was only focused on you, and he would do anything to indulge you at the moment. He pulled his fingers out of you after riding out your climax and shifted above you a bit. Your entire body flooded with warmth and you were panting.

Your recovery was cut short by Mike grinding into you, the length of his cock rubbing against you.

A soft, involuntary groan escaped his lips, signaling his turn.

He pulled back to look at you and his expression was questioning, waiting for an answer before going further with anything.

You whimpered out a small please and that was all it took before he was slowly sinking his cock inside of you.

He threw his head back and groaned, his cock twitching inside of you. You whined at the feeling and bit your lip, squeezing your eyes shut. He slowly bottomed out inside of you and kept still, Pausing to admire you, lost in your serene, blissed-out state, like a masterpiece in a moment of pure tranquility before he began thrusting into you.

“You gonna be a good boy for me?” He groaned out, leaning his head down to speak directly into your ear.

Your eyes shot open when you heard him, whimpering and quickly nodding your head, you were unable to speak, all you that was coming out of your mouth were the most pathetic whines, whimpers, and pants. Hearing him talk like this made you clench around him, which in turn caused him to slam into you faster.

“All mine, every bit of you,” he declared, his words sending shivers down your spine. You bit down hard on your bottom lip, trying to stifle any more sounds that might escape

You wrapped your legs around his hips, your body bouncing each time he thrusted into you, each time even harder than the last.

You and Mike were drenched in sweat, looking like you just conquered an epic adventure.

Your back was continuously arched off of the couch as he kept railing into you.

Your entire body was tingling with pleasure, and you knew you could get addicted to this feeling.

Mike slamming into you at just the right angle, the feeling of his body moving against yours, and before you knew it, Mike had reached his hand down between your bodies to begin stroking faster and faster, and each time a new sound came from your mouth, devoured from his own mouth.

You were officially done for after that. It was all too much, but it was so, so good.

“Please cum for me, my sweet boy. C’mon.” Mike gritted out, and that was all you had needed to hear.

You clenched around Mike’s cock and you came, your eyes rolling on the back of your head. All you could do while riding out your orgasam was squirm from the overstimulation, Mike still pounding into you as he was chasing his own orgasm.

Feeling the tightness of your body, he couldn't hold back any longer, his own release spurting deep within you.

Mike, who had been resting on top of you, shifted to lie beside you, the couch barely wide enough to accommodate both of you. His chest rose and fell rhythmically, a mirror to your own breaths as you both began to calm in the quiet aftermath

Your mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, the reality of what had just transpired between you and Mike barely beginning to settle in. It felt surreal, like a dream spun from the depths of your imagination, and yet the solid warmth of Mike beside you was a comforting reminder that it had indeed happened.

As you lay there, lost in your thoughts, you felt a gentle nudge against your cheek. Mike was nuzzling you, his stubble a rough but comforting texture against your skin. The affectionate gesture pulled you back to the present, grounding you in the moment and dispelling any lingering disbelief.

He turned his head slightly, capturing your lips in a quick, tender kiss that spoke of both contentment and lingering desire. When he pulled back, a hint of shyness flickered in his eyes, an endearing contrast to the confidence he had shown just moments before.

"Hey," he murmured softly, his voice barely above a whisper in the quiet room. "Do you want to sleep in the bed with me? The couch isn't exactly comfortable for the night."

His invitation caught you off guard, a warmth spreading through you that had nothing to do with the lingering heat from earlier. A smile broke across your face, broad and genuine, as you nodded, the simple gesture carrying a weight of unspoken emotion.

"I'd like that," you replied, your voice infused with a joy that you couldn't hide even if you wanted to.

Note: If you liked this story please leave a comment, I love reading them <3. Next on the list is a Josh Futturman fic from a request on wattpad.

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euphemiaamillais · 11 months ago

Text

playing dangerous pt 3 - coriolanus snow 🎀

coriolanus snow has always wanted the perfect woman. he’s searched high and low, among the likes of heiresses and actresses, and even—though he’d never dare admit it—district girls. he’s given up hope, until he finds you. you’re perfect—innocent, beautiful and obedient. he’s been watching you for months, and one night, he just can’t resist taking you home and making you his.

cw: 18+//stockholm syndrome//dub-con//blowjobs//fingering//piv sex//mentions of kidnapping//possessive coryo//hair pulling

pt 1 & 2

he allows you to take dinner with him that evening, but before you can come to the table, he barges into your room, searching through the pile of clothes which you have left strewn across the bed; too watched with exhaustion to have put them away.

‘what are you doing?’ you ask in your softest tone, attempting not to sound like you’re scrutinising him.

‘i’m finding you something to wear, sweetheart,’ he remarks, settling on the black dress before; the one that you quite liked.

‘what for?’ you ask curiously, wondering if he’s going to take you out somewhere. your heart races—if you get out of the house, you’d get a chance to escape. it seemed to good to be true, you were probably getting ahead of yourself.

‘dinner,’ he replies. ‘i can’t have you sitting at the table in nothing but a slip. that’s hardly appropriate.’

‘are we having guests?’ you question, and he laughs, shaking his head. your heart sinks. of course, he’s too clever to put you on display so soon, when you’d make him look like a fool and start accusing him of kidnapping you.

‘no, of course not,’ he drapes the dress over his arms, and digs into the bag of underwear, deciding what ones he wants to see you in. of course, he has every intention of taking them off of you, but he wants to dress you up like his little doll; so you have to look perfect.

you watch him silently selecting the clothes for you, feeling no more than a mannequin. it’s ridiculous, it’s as if you’re being primed for the slaughter. you wonder if he’ll allow you the decency of dressing yourself, but you suspect not. you are exhausted, and surrender yourself to the humiliating experience of having his hands all over you.

coriolanus pulls the slip over your head, your arms limp and weak with hopelessness, and admires your form. if only dinner wasn’t sitting on the table. he’d bend you over right now if he wasn’t worried about the roast going cold—he’d ordered it especially for tonight, wanting to impress you. he figured if you saw how wealthy he was, you’d know he could take care of you, and that there was no need to keep rejecting him.

‘you’re so beautiful,’ he muses, one hand caressing the small of your back, feeling the smooth skin just above your ass.

you blush a little at the compliment, shocked that for once you aren’t rebuking him. his hands are still cold, and tickle as he touches you. he sits you down on the bed, and you comply, a little dizzy from exhaustion, watching as he spreads your legs.

he slides the underwear—black lacy things—up your smooth thighs, and you do admit you feel relieved to be covered. he’s seen so much of you today that you don’t bother to cover your breasts, and he ogles them. they’re so perfect; pert and utterly lovely. your nipples are hard from the cold of the room, not that you notice, you’re too distracted by the piece of flotsam on the bed.

he doesn’t bother with the bra, though he’s bought ones all to match—after all, his little doll must look the best. the dress is loose enough that he simply slips it over your head, and he figures it’s only going to come off soon; not putting your bra on leaves him with less time fussing about before he fucks you.

coriolanus pulls you up, noticing you’ve gone heavy, but when he pinches you a little at the waist you perk up, snapping out of your dissociative reverie. your stomach grumbles hungrily when you catch the scent of the dinner.

he sits you across from him at the table, which is small enough that it feels strangely intimate—perhaps it is. you find the strength in your arms to eat, too enticed by the delicious scent that you practically want to inhale it.

‘this looks delicious,’ you thank him, shoving the food in your mouth a little indelicately.

he watches you, an impish grin tugging at the corners of your lips and you shovel it down. you must’ve been starving, poor thing. he’d make sure you were full by the end of the night—blood rushes to his cock at the thought of him forcing you to swallow his cum. you’d misbehaved so badly today; he hoped you hadn’t forgotten that you had to pay the price.

coriolanus eats in silence, leaving you to feel a little embarrassed that your plate is nearly cleared once he starts his own meal. you decide to take a sip at the large glass by your plate, filled full with wine—you’re certain it’s not posca this time, for it tastes delicious. you’re greedy, and, perhaps hoping the drunkenness will spare you from too many feelings, you gulp it down.

the wine warms your veins, and burns a little as you swallow. he notices that your glass is half empty, a look of surprise crossing his features—you’ve clearly warmed up to his offers a little. and he’s glad of that. if you’re swayed by alcohol, it’ll be easier to get you on your knees. he knows girls are like that, he’s done it enough times, imbibing them with champagne to get them into bed.

‘are you enjoying your dinner?’ he asks, and you nod with a little giggle. you’ve never been able to handle alcohol properly, and your head swims with the consumption of the heady wine.

‘yes, it’s delicious,’ you lick the fork, and he eyes you with interest.

‘good,’ he smiles at you, and you decide to swallow the rest of your wine for good measure.

you’re afraid, you have to admit, foot tapping nervously at the floor. it’s cold in his apartment, and you see a window open, wind flapping at the casement. no wonder you’re freezing.

coriolanus finishes his food, and takes a slow sip of his wine, not taking it greedily like you. you can’t sit still, the previous lethargy you’d felt dissipating entirely, and making way for drunken giddiness. he takes note of this, and refills your glass with the wine.

you drink it obediently, the taste satisfying some urge in your throat. it’s terribly strong though, and your head begins to feel a little heavy, but nevertheless you are removed from the feelings of fury that were boiling in your belly earlier in the day.

‘now,’ he says, abruptly standing up from his seat and making his way over to you. ‘are you going to be a good girl and do as i say?’

a giggle plays at your lips, and you sway a little. you glance back at the now empty wine glass, realising how much you’ve had and how quickly it seems to have taken its effects.

‘i’m not sure i’ll be any good,’ you pout, hand reaching out to brush a piece of flotsam from his trousers.

he grips your wrist with his hand, fingers encircling the delicate thing as you gasp. he looks so foreboding standing above you, eyes blazing with anger, brows furrowed in frustration.

‘you’re going to go to your room, and i’ll be there in a minute,’ he commands, dragging you to the door. ‘i want you to think for a minute, about what i’ve asked, and then decide what to do with yourself. you can do that, can’t you?’

his mouth twists into a frown, and you nod, stifling the drunken guffaw that was threatening to spill from your lips. it was all so ridiculous, the way he told you what to do; like you belonged to him.

‘mhm,’ you mumble, trying to stand properly, relying too much on him to prop you up. you hadn’t realised how toned he was until now, and you felt your core burn a little with desire. had he always been so attractive?

you hated how he acted as if he owned you, but the alcohol had made you feel so heady that all you could think about was him touching you—you wondered what his hands would feel like up your dress; caressing your breasts, perhaps fingering your cunt. you clench your thighs together to quell the feeling, and give him a sleepy nod before stumbling into the bedroom.

—

you’re splayed out like a fool when he enters, wondering why he’s sent you to your room. if he wanted you so badly, why didn’t he just take you on the sofa? it was much more convenient, being two feet from the dining table.

you attempt to prop yourself up with your elbows, and watch as he comes to stand above you again. you stick one foot out, playing with his trousers. when you glance up at him, he isn’t pleased. you’re acting like an idiot; a blubbering fool in fact. he wishes he hadn’t poured you so much wine, but at least you weren’t whining about how you didn’t want him to touch you.

‘have you come to rape me?’ you tease, and he slaps you across the face. his hand leaves a searing mark, and tears spring to your eyes. your skin tingles from the strike, cheek red and blotchy.

‘you’re not funny,’ he scolds, bending down a little to meet you at eye level. ‘you’re going to do exactly as i say, or else i’ll bend you over right now and fuck you until you’re begging me to stop.’

you sink back in fear, feeling his hot breath on your cheek, icy eyes spurning you as they flicker across your face, attempting to register your emotions.

‘okay,’ you mutter, surrendering to him. he’s terrifying like this; broad shouldered and so tall. you feel like if he squeezed you hard enough that he’d break you. it probably wouldn’t take much more to kill you… you wonder if he’s fantasised about that.

‘good girl,’ he smiles, anger disappearing with the first signs of your obedience. he knew it would prove difficult at first, getting a girl he’d kidnapped to obey him, but he didn’t realise you were such a little brat. obedience could always be taught, and you were complying more than you had this morning.

‘now,’ he begins, stroking your hair. ‘i want you to be a good girl and get on your knees. can you do that for me?’

you nod lazily, and slip off the bed, sinking to your knees. the position is uncomfortable, but the clenching of one of his fists is enough to keep you in place.

‘so pretty,’ he coos, thumb ghosting your lips. it’s the first time he’s touched them, and he marvels at how soft they are. he can’t wait until they’re wrapped around his cock, sucking as he fucks your pretty throat.

he slides his thumb inside your mouth, and you open just enough to let your tongue slip over his finger. he groans a little, the softness of your tongue as it coats his thumb in sticky saliva. you’re gazing up at him with wide eyes, wondering what he’ll do next. he’s taking his time, which surprises you. he seemed so adamant before, that you thought he’d have tossed you on the bed and begun his assault immediately.

your knees creak against the floorboard, aching as you attempt to remain in your position. he slips his thumb back out of your mouth, and wipes your sticky saliva all over your lips, smiling as he does so.

‘see, that wasn’t so hard now, was it?’ he inquires, and you shake your head, thumbs twiddling in anticipation.

you watch as he undoes his belt, and then the zipper on his trousers, pulling them down to his ankles with one swift tug. his cock is bulging in his boxers, and your eyes go wide in shock—how big is he? you know so little about men, but you’re not so stupid that you can’t imagine that might hurt if he decide to put it in you.

‘look, you’ve made me so fuckin’ hard’ he gestures, palming his cock through his boxers. you gnaw at your bottom lip, trying to swallow the fear that brims in your stomach.

he groans from his own touch, but doesn’t let his hands linger too much longer. that’s your job now, after all. his little doll to corrupt—he couldn’t wait to bury himself inside your tight little cunt, watching as you squirm under him, acting as if you weren’t enjoying every second of it.

coriolanus pulls his cock out of his boxers, gripping it at the base. you can feel bruises forming in your knees, and you want nothing more than to get up and stumble into bed, letting sleep take you. the wine has an almost hypnotic effect on you.

his cock is staring you right in the face. you’ve never seen one before—it’s large, so big you wince at the thought of him stretching you out. he’s so hard, you can see his tip is red and throbbing, veins pulsing a little angrily.

‘open your mouth,’ he commands, you shake slightly but oblige, and he slides the tip past your lips.

you’re not sure what to do, and so let it sit there while you stare dumbly back up at him. a scowl tugs at his lips, but you wait, wondering what his next instruction will be. you’re so uncertain, and afraid of what he’ll do if you don’t oblige.

‘suck it,’ he instructs, pushing it further in your mouth.

you stretch your lips around it, struggling a little to take him in. he’s not even halfway, but you can feel it push towards the back of your throat. he grunts, feeling your teeth scrape the top of the shaft.

‘teeth,’ coriolanus says with displeasure, and you feel your face turn bright red in shame.

you attempt your best to round out your lips and hollow out your cheeks, finding it easier to take him in. he groans, feeling your saliva coat his cock. you look so pretty on your knees, staring at him; dumbfounded.

‘fuck,’ he cups your chin, giving your cheek a soft stroke as he bucks his hips. ‘you’re so good, taking me in your mouth. you like it, don’t you? being a little whore for me?’

you nod, knowing not what else to do. he thrusts his cock further down your throat, and you choke, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. your mouth waters, tongue running up and down his veiny shaft.

‘use your hands if you can’t take the rest of me in,’ he says, and do you grip him, running one hand up at down. he’s just so big. ‘soon enough you’ll be able to take all of me, i’ll be sure of that.’

your eyes widen with fear, but you do your best to keep sucking, bobbing your head up and down. a few tears trickle down your cheeks, and saliva dribbles as you move your mouth up to the tip.

‘mhm,’ you grunt, sliding it out of your mouth to take a breath. you’re gasping, and he can’t help but laugh; you like like slut, knees shaking, lips puffy from the abrasion.

you press him back against your lips, tongue swirling around the head, watching as he nods in satisfaction. you’re a fast learner—he knew you weren’t entirely stupid. he can feel himself edging closer to his release, what with your tongue teasing the tip of his cock you dip your head back down, and take him back into your throat, gagging again as you attempt to take him down.

in this moment, you find, you want nothing more than to please him. please him because he’s commanding it, and you’re afraid of what he’ll do if you say no. but at the same time, you have to admit to yourself, something sends a shiver down your spine as you take his cock in your mouth, stretching your lips around the sheer size of it, gagging and salivating as he bucks his hips faster.

coriolanus lets out a ragged groan, and you feel something wet and hot spurt onto your tongue. you slide his cock out of your mouth, sticky with saliva, and find that it’s dribbling with spend.

‘swallow,’ he says, grabbing the base of his cock as cum dribbles from the tip.

you swallow the cum that is sitting on your tongue, it’s slightly salty, but you follow his orders. surmising what he’s going to do next, you open your lips again to accept his cock again, and he smiles. you’re learning very fast.

‘good girl,’ he praises, stroking your hair as you lick the rest of the spend up with your tongue, and again, swallow it. ‘you like that, don’t you?’

‘uh huh,’ you murmur, reaching one hand back against the bed to balance yourself. your knees are so sore.

‘you can stand up now,’ he remarks, tucking his cock back into his boxers.

using the bed, you stand up with shaking legs. your knees are tender; some of the skin is sunken in; purple with bruises.

‘look at you,’ he teases, watching as you stumble a little, legs so sore and achy. ‘your knees are so bruised. my poor little doll.’

you are hazy, but feel him push you down against the bed, locking your legs between his. he’s on top of you, biceps flexing as he holds himself up. you look angelic, just waiting for him to fuck you, the way your eyes are wide with want, and the way your lips tremble. you’ve still got cum at the corner of your mouth; and he adores how it looks, how he’s marked you as his own.

coriolanus slides your dress up your thighs, pushing it up to to your waist. the smooth skin is again dancing with goosebumps, his cold hands causing the skin to tingle. he can’t believe how pliant you are in his hands, how you aren’t even protesting. you’re too exhausted to push him off of you, and the aching between your legs is growing stronger as he brushes against your skin.

‘such a good girl,’ he murmurs, rubbing a finger over your clothed cunt. he can’t believe how pretty you look in those panties, the ones he chose and dressed his little doll in.

you gasp, feeling a surge of warmth through your body as he brushes against your clit. it satisfies that urge deep in your belly, and when he pulls his hand away, you find yourself mewling, longing for more.

‘please,’ you gasp out, a strange urgency in your voice.

‘did you like that, hm?’ he asks, ghosting his fingers teasingly over your panties. you’re so wet, you’ve soaked through the lace.

‘yes…’ your voice quivers, and you rut your hips, wanting more.

‘god, you’re so fucking wet,’ he groans, slipping a finger past the hem of your panties and sliding into your slick folds.

you’re so tight around his fingers, he can’t believe it. he can barely get one finger inside of you. he knew you’d be innocent, but the way you’d sucked his cock so well made him wonder how many times you’d touched yourself. but he adored the fact that you were all his—that he was the one to corrupt you, branding you as his own.

you whimper from the feeling; it’s deliciously enticing. the way he pushes against your walls, finger arching, reaching for something. he presses a thumb back to your clitoris, causing you to cry out. it’s so sensitive, and he rubs it in circles, watching you writhe about in ecstasy.

his cock is hard again, and he decides he cannot wait much longer. he has to have you. and besides, you haven’t earned your own pleasure yet. it was about what he wanted, after all.

he tugs your panties down, watching as your slick cunt is revealed to him. seeing it up close, beautiful and glistening, makes him catch his breath. he can hardly believe it’s all his.

‘god,’ he breathes, freeing his cock once again, and taking it in his grip.

you watch in anticipation, missing the feeling of his fingers bringing you to your pleasure. you felt like something was unfurling, but as he removed his touch, you were left wanting, cunt clenching around nothing.

you squeeze your eyes shut, and feel him run the tip of his cock in your wet folds; it doesn’t hurt, but you are waiting, gnawing at your lip as you wait for him to slip inside of you. coriolanus presses the head of his cock into your cunt, catching his breath as he slides in.

you’re even tighter around his cock, and he feels your walls trying to compensate for his girth, stretching out around him. your breath is heavy, and you grasp at the sheets. you won’t lie, it hurts. if you weren’t so drunk you probably would have attempted to make him pull out, but he doesn’t seem to likely to be persuaded.

his fingers had been pleasant, and perhaps if you’d met in another way, you might have let him fuck you eventually. at least you could console yourself that he was gorgeous, even if he was probably a psychopath.

he pushes himself further inside, groaning as you take him in. your slickness coats his cock, and when he moves, sliding out a little, his cock is covered in a white ring. he knows you want him; you can’t deny it, the way you have bucked your hips against him, rutting like a desperate animal in heat. it was pathetic, and yet signified to him that you were all his. his perfect girl.

‘so fuckin’ tight,’ he huffs, beginning to fasten his pace. it’s taking in everything not to pound you right away—you’re so delicate, but he needs satisfaction.

you bite your lip, crying out as he thrusts. ‘it hurts,’ you can’t help but say, tears pricking in your eyes.

coriolanus scowls, finding it an insult to him that you’re being so vocal about it hurting. he grabs a fistful of your hair, and tugs you up to meet his gaze. your head tingles, hair strands clinging on for dear life.

‘did i tell you you could complain?’ he taunts, and you shake your head, attempting to pry him away from you. he only pulls at your hair harder, and you feel your chest racking with sobs.

‘please… you’re really hurting me,’ you whimper, but he ignores you.

‘be quiet or i’ll really give you something to scream about!’ he loosens his grip on your hair, your scalp thankful, but his cock is still stretching you out.

you bite your tongue, laying back as he fucks you. god, you really are so tight. his cock is throbbing, and he wonders how many pumps are left before he’ll come, spilling himself inside of you. watching you squirm beneath him, begging him to stop—but really he knew you’d be thanking him soon enough.

you looked so pretty, eyes glistening with tears, lips trembling. he feels you clench around him, your own body involuntarily ceding itself to him. you feel a gush of warmth trickling out of your cunt—not that there’s much room with how big he is.

‘gonna fill you up,’ he grunts; hips bucking with need.

he can’t take it much longer, his thrusts grow lazy, and he lets out a breathy groan. you feel him release inside of you, hot cum spurting against your tight walls. coriolanus wants to keep it inside of you though, reminding you that you’re his, and he’ll do what he wants with you. he ruts lazily into you, cum coating his own cock as he pushes it further inside of you.

‘mhm, you’re so good to me baby,’ he presses a kiss to your cheek.

he notices the tears on your cheeks, and laughs a little. coriolanus wipes them with his fingers, gazing at you with his cruel, icy eyes. he can’t believe you’re crying. what a stupid little slut. you’re so innocent that you can barely take his cock.

‘did i hurt you?’ he taunts, and you nod dumbly.

‘poor thing,’ coriolanus coos. ‘you were just so tight; i couldn’t resist. but you took me so well.’

you feel more tears rolling down your cheek—you’re aching, and as he pulls out of you, you feel his cum dripping down your thigh. it’s so sticky; you want it off of you, but he’s still got you in his hold, thighs trapped between his large legs.

‘are you going to thank me?’ he asks, gripping your chin as you attempt to look away. you’re so ashamed, and your head is pounding from the wine. the overstimulation is washing over you.

‘thank you, sir.’ you offer meekly, voice choked up from all the crying.

a sick grin curls at the corner of his lips, and he carefully thumbs at the dark bruises on your neck; where he had marked you earlier.

‘you’re all mine,’ coriolanus tugs at your bottom lip, coercing your mouth to open.

he spits inside, and you feel it hit the back of your throat. there’s something so animalistic, so primal about the way he does it. you know you don’t belong to yourself anymore. you live to please him.

‘now swallow it; show me that you can obey me,’ he commands.

you do so, feeling the hot spit trickle down your throat. the tiredness nags at your eyes, and you find yourself blinking rapidly.

coriolanus smiles, watching as you learn to become more obedient. soon he won’t even have to coax you. you’ll just do as he says. get on your knees when you see he’s had a long day at work, spread your legs when his cock is hard. you’ll be at his beck and call—the perfect woman for him.

‘good girl.’ he says, and all you can do is smile, knowing there’s no way out of this. you belong to him now.

—

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