#it's been a HOT while since i've made an edit

[mingi-s-dimples]

Accidentally Roommates - Yunho

~"Best friend's brother with yunho × reader- where reader has intense crush on her besties brother. She's so flustered whenever around him but never dreams of making it obvious, it would be mortifying. Especially because she's insecure about her appearance and thinks he's way out of her league. You could say shes the nerdy type while hes the this popular, attractive athlete. Not cliche in any way, slow, gut wrenching build. I want just the right amount of angst especially because she sees him with other girls a lot. And then it dips into fluff and sweet smut. Plot twist he ends up living with them for a few months which complicates things and her feelings as she tries to avoid him and not make her crush obvious."

pairing: yunho x fem!reader

genre, 18+, college au

summary: your roommate ends up being no one but your absolutely handsome crush.. and this switch is caused by your bestie, which does you good in the end.

wc: 4.6k

warnings: college au, sweet smut, making love, slight bulge kink, slight size kink, a lot of kissing and making out, reader is kinda insecure about herself, athlete x need typa shit, protected (we cheer in unison), forced proximity, friends to lovers, sweet love, lots of praising, completely consensual, for sure forgot something, might edit later.

Author's Note: heyy sooo this came oit sweeter than expected wusjsujs but my reader wanted it to be sweet smut so I guess it works 🤞🏻 i've never been this gentle in my fics ngl 💀😂 but hey it's a fresh breath of air (an absolute menace and filthy fic with jongho coming next week stay tuned), i hope you like it ml! 💖💖💖

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and does not represent the reality of the member in any way!

You knew moving into the dorms for your second year of university would be an adjustment. What you didn’t expect was walking into your new room, suitcase in hand, only to find Yunho standing there, shirtless, with a towel slung over his shoulder.

Your best friend’s brother.

Your secret crush since forever.

And, apparently, your new roommate.

“Oh, hey,” Yunho grinned, running a hand through his damp hair as if this was the most natural thing in the world. “Took you long enough.”

You just stood there, staring, struggling to breathe, your brain short-circuiting at the sight of him in your shared space. “W-What are you doing here?” you finally managed to stammer.

Yunho cocked his head, amused. “You mean in my room?”

His room?

Your stomach dropped. There had to be a mistake.

But before you could process, your phone buzzed.

**[Bestie]: Okay, don’t freak out.

[Bestie]: Sooo... I *might* have switched rooms with you.

[Bestie]: I really wanted to live with Alex [her bf] aaaand Yunho didn’t care so—surprise… I guess?**

Surprise.

You wanted to scream.

Your best friend had traded you like a deck of playing cards, leaving you to share a room with her ridiculously hot, athletic, popular older brother—the same one who made your heart race every time he looked at you.

You could barely function around Yunho in casual group settings. How the hell were you supposed to live with him?

“Oh,” you mumbled, still gripping your phone, voice embarrassingly small. “I—uh. I didn’t know.”

Yunho just smiled, so effortlessly relaxed. “Yeah, I figured. She was too scared to tell you in person.”

Of course she was.

He nodded toward your suitcase. “Well, since you’re here, might as well unpack. I don’t bite.”

That was debatable.

Because being near Yunho always felt like standing too close to a flame.

And now, there was no escape.

—

Days turned into weeks, and you slowly fell into a routine. Yunho was surprisingly easy to live with—clean, respectful, easygoing.

But the problem wasn’t Yunho.

The problem was you.

Because you were hopelessly in love with him.

And every single day in this room was pure torture.

You’d sit at your desk, desperately pretending to study, while Yunho lounged on his bed, scrolling through his phone or tossing a baseball between his hands, his stupidly muscular forearms on full display.

Some nights, he’d come back from practice, sweaty and breathless, shaking his damp hair out before stripping off his hoodie like it was nothing.

Like he wasn’t ruining your life.

And then there were the girls.

Because, of course, girls flocked to Yunho.

And why wouldn’t they? He was tall, insanely attractive, the star athlete everyone adored.

You told yourself it didn’t matter. He wasn’t yours to be jealous over.

But it still stung.

Every time you overheard a flirtatious giggle over the phone. Every time you saw him talking to some gorgeous girl in the cafeteria. Every time he left the dorm late at night and came back with his hair messy, lips bitten.

You hated it.

You hated how much you cared.

And worst of all? Yunho noticed.

Yunho wasn’t stupid.

He noticed everything.

How your fingers tensed when he stood too close. How you bit your lip whenever he walked around shirtless after practice. How you refused to meet his gaze whenever another girl’s name popped up on his phone screen.

And Yunho, being Yunho, decided to have fun with it.

"You’re bad at hiding things, you know," he mused one evening, leaning lazily against your desk while you pretended to focus on your laptop.

Your fingers froze on the keyboard. “Hiding what?”

He tilted his head, grinning like he knew a secret.

“You tell me.”

You swallowed, refusing to take the bait. “Go away, Yunho.”

“Why?” he asked, all mock innocence. “Am I distracting you?”

Yes. Painfully.

But you weren’t about to admit that.

So, instead, you rolled your eyes, keeping your attention firmly on your screen. “I have an exam.”

“Right, right,” Yunho nodded, before casually hooking a finger under your chin, tilting your face up to his.

Your breath hitched.

His eyes burned into yours,

amusement flickering beneath something darker.

“Then why do you always get so nervous when I’m near?” he murmured.

You opened your mouth—nothing came out.

Because what the hell were you supposed to say to that?*

Yunho let out a low chuckle, thumb barely grazing your skin before he pulled away, pleased with himself.

“See?” he smirked, walking off like it was nothing.

Like he hadn’t just set your entire body on fire.

And that’s when you knew.

He wasn’t just teasing you.

He was waiting.

Waiting for you to finally break.

—

It started as a normal evening.

You sat at your desk, typing away, lost in your usual routine. Glasses perched on your nose, a silk blouse draped over your frame, tiny silk shorts barely covering your thighs. Hair tied in a messy bun.

You didn’t think much of it.

But Yunho did.

Because when you glanced up, you caught him staring.

Not his usual teasing glance.

A real, lingering, dark stare.

Something in his expression shifted.

“Yunho?” you asked cautiously.

He blinked, shaking his head slightly. “Huh?”

“You’re staring.”

His lips curled into something wicked.

“Can you blame me?” he murmured, voice lower, rougher.

Your breath hitched.

“What?”

Yunho leaned forward, resting his hands on your desk, invading your space.

“You look good,” he said, tone slow, deliberate.

Your stomach flipped.

His eyes dragged over your frame, slowly, like he was committing every inch to memory.

“I—uh—” You swallowed hard, completely losing your train of thought.

Yunho exhaled sharply, then let out a low chuckle, shaking his head.

“Fuck it,” he muttered.

And then—he kissed you.

Not a hesitant, testing-the-waters kiss.

A deep, slow, searing kiss.

Like he’d been holding back for too damn long.

Your mind short-circuited. Your body froze before melting into him, his lips coaxing yours apart, the warmth of his hands branding your skin.

Every suppressed feeling, every stolen glance, every bottled-up longing between you—

It all unraveled at once.

And you were helpless to stop it.

The moment Yunho kissed you, the world seemed to tilt.

His lips crashed into yours, warm and desperate, like he had been holding himself back for too long and couldn’t stand it anymore. His hands found your waist first, fingers pressing into the silk of your blouse like he wanted to memorize the shape of you. Then, his palms roamed—one sliding up your back, the other gripping your hip, pulling you flush against him until there was no space left between your bodies.

You gasped.

He took advantage of it, deepening the kiss, groaning softly into your mouth as his fingers slipped beneath the hem of your shorts, gripping your bare thigh.

You shivered.

It was too much.

Too good.

Your heart pounded so violently it hurt. His scent—clean, warm, intoxicating—filled your senses, making your mind foggy as his lips moved against yours, slow but needy, like he was savoring every second.

Like he was starving for you.

But then—the doubt crept in.

Why you?

He could have any girl he wanted. He did have any girl he wanted.

And yet, here he was. With you.

It didn’t make sense.

What if this was just another conquest for him?

What if you were just another girl he’d grow bored of the next morning?

Panic surged through you, and suddenly, you were pulling away.

"Yunho, wait," you gasped, pushing against his chest.

He stilled instantly, panting, eyes dark and glazed over with something deep—but he let you go.

"What’s wrong?" he asked, voice hoarse.

You swallowed hard, hating yourself for what you were about to say.

“This—” You gestured between you two, still breathless. “I just… I don’t know if this is—if I’m—”

Yunho’s brows furrowed. "If you’re what?"

You took a deep breath, looking anywhere but his face.

"I don’t want to be just some girl to you."

Silence.

Yunho’s jaw tensed.

“You think that’s all you are?”

You let out a bitter chuckle, wrapping your arms around yourself.

"Come on, Yunho. Look at me." You motioned to yourself—small, shy, nothing like the girls that usually clung to him. "And then look at you."

His lips parted slightly, as if in disbelief.

"You’re…" You hesitated, then sighed. "You’re too handsome. Too popular. Too out of my league."

A muscle in Yunho’s jaw ticked.

He hated that.

Hated that you thought so little of yourself.

Hated that you saw him as something unreachable, when all he had ever wanted was you.

"That’s bullshit." His voice was lower now, tinged with something raw, something that made your stomach twist.

Your breath caught when he stepped closer, his fingers brushing along your jaw, gentle but firm.

“You think I want just anyone?” he murmured. “You think I’d do this with just anyone?”

You opened your mouth, but no words came out.

His thumb traced your cheek, eyes locked onto yours with something so deep, so intense that your knees almost gave out.

“You don’t even realize how fucking beautiful you are, do you?” His voice was soft, yet aching.

Your stomach flipped.

“Yunho—”

He cut you off, tilting your chin up, kissing you again.

And this time, you didn’t resist.

Because you believed him.

Because maybe, just maybe, he had wanted you all along.

When he pulled back from the kiss, Yunho’s fingers curled under your chin, tilting your face up so you had no choice but to look at him. His eyes burned with something deep, something that made your chest feel too tight.

"You really don’t get it, do you?" His voice was softer now, but still rough with restraint.

Your lips parted, but nothing came out.

"You think you’re out of my league?" He let out a breathless laugh, shaking his head. "God, if only you knew."

His thumb traced along your bottom lip, his touch delicate, reverent.

"I’ve spent so long trying to keep my distance," he admitted. "Telling myself you were off-limits. That I had no right to want you the way I do." His throat bobbed as he swallowed. "But it didn’t matter. I still wanted you."

You blinked up at him, heart racing.

His voice dropped even lower, barely above a whisper.

"I still want you."

A shiver ran down your spine.

"You don’t even see yourself, do you?" Yunho’s fingers slid into your hair, cupping the back of your head. "You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on. Every damn time you look at me, I feel like I’m coming apart."

Your stomach twisted, heat creeping up your neck.

"Every guy on campus watches you, you know that?" His grip on you tightened, his breath hot against your skin. "But they don’t get to have you. They never will. Because I’m the one who’s going to have you."

Your breath hitched.

"I don’t want anyone else, sweetheart." His lips brushed against yours, not quite a kiss, but almost. "I only want you."

And this time, when he kissed you, you didn’t pull away.

Because how could you?

The kiss deepened, and this time, you met him with just as much eagerness, fingers threading through his hair as you pressed yourself closer, needing more. His lips molded to yours with a gentle hunger, the kind that made your heart race and your body tremble.

When he finally pulled back, his breath was uneven, and there was a satisfied smile tugging at the corner of his lips. His eyes were dark, filled with longing, and for the first time, you could feel it—how deeply he desired you.

"God," Yunho murmured, his voice hushed and thick with emotion. "You’re so beautiful… I can’t even begin to describe how much you’ve been driving me crazy." His hands moved to your waist, holding you close, eyes roving over your face, drinking you in.

He cupped your cheek, thumb brushing softly over your skin, before he spoke again, voice low and sincere. "I…I want to make love to you," he said, his gaze searching for yours, his words carrying an intensity that made your breath catch. "But not just because of how you look… it’s because I want to show you how much I love everything about you. Your heart, your mind, your body…"

You felt your cheeks flush, heart beating wildly in your chest. Was he serious? Did he really want that with you?

Yunho smiled softly when he saw the nervousness in your eyes, leaning down to kiss your forehead gently, almost reverently. "I’ve loved your personality from the very first moment I met you," he continued, voice tinged with admiration and something deeper, more possessive. "But when I saw you tonight, with your glasses on, hair in that bun, and wearing that silk set… I swear I’ve never wanted anything more." He ran his thumb along your lip, his touch like fire. "You were so sexy, so… effortlessly beautiful. It’s been driving me wild, wondering if you even realized how incredible you are."

You swallowed hard, the mix of his words and touch leaving you dizzy, your shyness making you hesitant but the desire inside you growing stronger with every second. You knew how vulnerable you were right now, but with him looking at you like that, you couldn’t help but feel desirable in ways you never had before.

"Yes," you whispered shyly, voice barely audible but full of desire, a blush creeping across your cheeks. "I want you, Yunho."

His eyes softened, and a low, appreciative hum left him as he leaned in again, kissing you with a tenderness that sent shivers down your spine. When he pulled back, he slowly reached up and took the glasses off your face, his gaze lingering on you as though he were savoring every detail.

With a quiet, almost reverent smile, Yunho gently lifted you into his arms, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he carried you to the bed, his eyes never leaving yours.

He paused for a moment, forehead resting against yours as he breathed deeply. "You’re mine now," he whispered softly, his hands trailing down your back. "And I’m going to show you just how much I need you."

The soft smile on his lips was gentle but possessive, the way he held you close spoke volumes, and you melted against him, unable to resist. Yunho was everything you had imagined and more—strong, protective, tender—and now, he was yours.

Yunho’s patience had been tested enough. The second he closed the door behind him, he knew he was done. No more restraint. No more slow, teasing build-up. His control was shattered—he wanted you. Now.

He pulled you onto the bed with a swift motion, his hands grasping your waist and lifting you gently, his lips pressing against your neck, murmuring low praises. But as soon as he stood up, his gaze was unwavering as he looked at you, consuming you with his eyes.

You felt small, almost overwhelmed under his intense stare, the hunger in his eyes so palpable that it made your chest tighten. Yunho was towering over you, all power and confidence. His shirt was the first thing to go, discarded carelessly onto the floor as his muscular chest was revealed in the dim golden light of the bedroom.

You were breathless. His presence was intoxicating—his eyes never leaving yours as he took in your every detail. You felt so vulnerable, yet so incredibly desired. Your heart raced as he stood in front of you, almost like he was taking his time, savoring the moment before he finally spoke.

"Can I continue?" Yunho’s voice was a low, husky growl, the kind that made your legs weak and your pulse quicken.

"Y-Yes," you whispered, the simple word barely escaping your lips as you stared up at him, feeling smaller under his gaze.

His smile was feral. "I can’t hold back anymore."

With that, his hands moved with unrestrained urgency, undoing the buttons of your blouse. He pulled the fabric off you, exposing your smooth, glowing skin to him under the dim light. His eyes darkened as they traced every curve of your body, mesmerized by the sight of you.

You shivered at the intensity of his stare, feeling completely exposed in front of him. Yunho leaned down slightly, brushing his lips over your shoulder, his breath hot against your skin. "You’re so fucking beautiful," he murmured, cursing under his breath as he took in the sight of you.

The silk blouse was discarded, leaving you in nothing but your delicate silk shorts. Yunho’s eyes locked on your lower half, and with a low growl, he removed the shorts, his hands trembling slightly as he pulled them off your legs, revealing your bare skin.

His gaze flicked back to your face, his breath hitching as he took in how vulnerable and perfect you looked, completely at his mercy. His chest rose and fell with every deep breath he took, fighting to maintain control, but it was clear he was already losing the battle.

"Fuck," he cursed under his breath. "You’re killing me."

Yunho quickly discarded his pants, and as he stood there, you saw the bulge in his briefs, straining and growing more impatient by the second. You swallowed hard, feeling your breath catch in your throat. You knew what was coming, and the anticipation made your heart race.

He took a step closer, his hands resting on either side of you, trapping you in the bed, his dark eyes never leaving yours. "Hey," he said softly, his voice oddly tender despite the urgency in the air, "it’s okay. I’ll take care of you."

And you knew, deep down, that he meant it. Yunho was here to make you feel everything. And more. He wasn’t going to let you go until he had shown you just how much he wanted you.

He climbed over you in the bed and his lips trailed down your neck again, each kiss deliberate, deep, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. His hands moved with purpose, exploring your skin with a tenderness that contrasted the desperate hunger in his touch. As he kissed you, his hands slid from your waist to your thighs, drawing slow circles that made you gasp softly.

The praise he had showered on you earlier filled your mind, emboldening you, making you feel seen, making you feel wanted. It was a new sensation, the weight of his words settling into your chest, making you feel lighter yet more grounded at the same time. Slowly, your hand moved from his hair to the smooth expanse of his back. The muscles beneath your fingers rippled with each shift he made, making your heart race.

His body felt so close, so perfect against yours, and with newfound boldness, your other hand drifted down, feeling the tautness of his abs as they contracted beneath your touch. Your fingers hovered near his waistband, just over the bulge that was still pressed tightly against the fabric of his briefs. You could feel the heat radiating from him, and before you even realized it, your fingers brushed over his hard cock.

Yunho’s breath hitched slightly, his eyes darkening as he met your gaze. “Mh?” he murmured, curiosity and desire mixed in his voice.

You hesitated for only a moment, but the way he looked at you, with all that intensity, made you forget your doubts. You felt a momentary surge of confidence. Slowly, you moved your hand away and met his gaze, feeling a rush of warmth flood your chest as you realized the effect you had on him.

Yunho chuckled softly, a knowing smile curving his lips as he looked down at the way your hand lingered. His fingers moved to your waistband, gently peeling your panties away, his touch reverent. His hands were steady, each movement laced with affection and desire.

Then, with equal care, you slid his briefs off, your breath catching as you glimpsed him fully for the first time. The sight made your pulse race, but his touch was always gentle, always considerate. He reached out, his hand brushing your hair away from your face, a soft smile on his lips as he whispered, “You’re so beautiful.”

Every word felt like a balm to your soul, washing away any doubts, any insecurities. The connection between you both was undeniable, and the tenderness in his voice only made it feel deeper. Yunho leaned in, pressing his forehead gently against yours, eyes closing as he exhaled softly.

“I want to take care of you, to show you just how much you mean to me,” he murmured, his voice low, thick with emotion.

You smiled softly, your heart pounding in your chest as you nodded, feeling his love surrounding you in ways words could never fully express. He kissed you again, slow and sweet, savoring the moment as if he never wanted it to end.

Yunho’s hands traced the curve of your hips, his touch igniting a warmth that spread through your entire body. His lips brushed against yours, soft and lingering, as if he were memorizing the feel of you. When he pulled back slightly, his dark eyes searched yours, filled with a mixture of desire and adoration.

“Tell me,” he whispered, his voice rough yet tender, “if you want this as much as I do.”

Your breath hitched, your heart racing as you nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. “Yes.”

The word seemed to unravel something in him. His hands tightened ever so slightly on your waist, and he pressed his forehead to yours again, his breath mingling with yours. He murmured, his voice trembling with emotion. “I’ll always cherish you.”

With deliberate care, Yunho shifted and took a condom out of his private nightstand. Your eyes widened at the sight of the unopened box of condoms, making you think he'd gotten them just for you. His body aligned with yours right afger he slid it on. His hands guided you gently, his touch reverent as he positioned his cock right between your wet folds. The first brush of contact drew a soft, involuntary moan from your lips, the sound escaping like a secret you hadn’t meant to share. His eyes darkened at the sound, his gaze locking onto yours as he stilled, giving you a moment to adjust.

“You’re perfect,” he breathed, his voice thick with emotion. “So perfect.”

The air between you was electric, charged with a longing that had been building for what felt like an eternity. Yunho’s movements were deliberate, each touch designed to make you feel cherished, adored. He thrusted in slowly, his hands steady and reassuring, as if he were handling something infinitely precious.

Yunho’s movements began with a slow rhythm, each thrust measured and tender, as if he were savoring every second of this connection. His hands roamed your body, tracing the curve of your waist, the dip of your spine, before settling on your hips to guide you gently against him. Your own hands explored the expanse of his back, fingers skimming over the taut muscles that flexed with every movement. You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer until his lips met yours in a kiss that was both desperate and tender.

His breath grew ragged, his voice roughening with each passing moment. “You feel… incredible,” he murmured against your lips, his words breaking into a low groan as he deepened the kiss. The sound of his voice, coarse and filled with need, sent a shiver through you, your body responding with a surge of warmth that made your breath catch.

Your whines escaped in soft, breathy gasps, rising from your chest as the pleasure built within you. Each thrust of his hips sent sparks coursing through your veins, the intensity of the moment overwhelming yet perfect. His name fell from your lips like a prayer, and he answered with a kiss, his hands tightening ever so slightly on your hips.

The rhythm between you grew more urgent, yet Yunho never lost that tenderness, his movements still filled with reverence. You could feel the tension coiling within you, your body trembling as you neared the edge. “Yunho,” you whispered shyly, your voice trembling, “I’m… I’m close.”

He groaned softly, his forehead pressing against yours as he nodded. “Me too,” he admitted, his voice strained but gentle. “Let go. I’ve got you.”

His words were all the encouragement you needed. The pleasure crested, crashing over you in waves as your body shuddered beneath his. Your walls clenched around him, drawing a low, guttural curse from his lips. He stilled for a moment, his breath hitching as he fought to hold on, but the sensation was too much. With a final, shuddering thrust, he followed you over the edge, his body trembling as he buried his face in the crook of your neck and his cock deep down your cunt.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, the only sound the shared rhythm of your breathing. Yunho’s hands gently caressed your back, his touch soothing as he pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder. “You’re amazing,” he whispered, his voice still rough but filled with warmth. “So amazing.”

Yunho stayed close, his body still draped over yours as his breathing slowly steadied. His hands moved gently, brushing strands of hair from your face before he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. “Are you okay?” he murmured, his voice warm and tender, his eyes searching yours with concern.

You nodded, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “More than okay,” you whispered, your fingers tracing idle patterns along his shoulder. “That was… perfect.”

He chuckled softly, the sound low and content, before rolling onto his side and pulling you into his arms. His touch was soothing, his fingers trailing lightly up and down your back as he held you close. “You’re perfect,” he corrected, his voice filled with affection. “I’m just lucky to be here with you.”

You nestled into his chest, savoring the warmth of his embrace and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear. The world felt quiet, peaceful, as if nothing else mattered but the two of you in this moment. But then, the sharp buzz of your phone on the nightstand shattered the silence.

You groaned, reluctantly reaching for it. “Who could that be?” you muttered, squinting at the screen. It was a text from your best friend, and you couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh my god, what does she want now?”

Yunho raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “Your bestie?” he asked, his tone teasing. “Or whatever she is, she did the best thing by moving in with her boyfriend.”

You blinked, turning to look at him. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged, his smirk widening. “Because now I finally get to show you how much I love you without any interruptions.” His hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin. “And trust me, I plan on doing that a lot.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you set your phone back down. “You’re ridiculous,” you said, though the warmth in your chest betrayed how much his words meant to you.

“Maybe,” he admitted, pulling you back into his arms. “But I’m yours.”

You sighed contentedly, resting your head against his chest once more. The world outside could wait. For now, all that mattered was the man holding you, the love in his touch, and the promise of countless moments like this to come.

NETWORKS:

@blossomnet

@illusionnet

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@mingleshine @musiclovingfairy @crazylittlebisexual @sanhwalvr @artistic-rendition @hongjoongtime117 @cypher-03 @peachy-bell26 @atiny1 @my-atiny-kookie-rkive @atzlordz @chai0tea @miyaluvvsyou

[ineffable-romantics]

Some thoughts on why and how I believe Crowley and Aziraphale's relationship would incorporate sex/why I do not read them as wholly asexual:

This is something I've seen the most discourse about in this fandom, and I've had a few thoughts of my own that I really wanted to expand upon in a full meta/character analysis post. I do understand that this can be a contentious topic, so first, let me clarify a few things:

First of all, this is going to be long. Tbh it probably won't be that organized either. I ramble and I'm not very good at editing, so just... you know. Be warned. (*Hi, it's me from 2 days after writing this; I'm really not kidding, it's LONG)

These are all my own thoughts. They might not be hot takes, because recently I've seen more than a few people come to the same conclusions on a lot of these points as I have. But I've also had these notes in my drafts for about a week and a half now, and have been continuously adding to it as things have occurred to me. This post is essentially just somewhere for me to collect the separate but related meta I've been kicking around in my head.

I fully respect anyone who does see and prefer an asexual reading of this relationship. These are my own thoughts and interpretations as someone who is not asexual. I am in the LGBT+ community, so while I do know a few things about the asexuality spectrum, I am by no means an expert.

This is NOT something I expect, need, or even necessarily want the show (or, God forbid, Neil's tumblr ask box) to address. Tonally, it's just not that kind of show. Newt and Anathema's sex scene was very much played for laughs, and it worked for that reason. If the show found a way to address it in a way that was both appropriate for the tone of the show and ultimately satisfying, then great! But there is so much more to this relationship than sex, and I didn't need a kiss to confirm their love, so I certainly don't need a sex scene. As immortal beings (as I assume they'll stay) there is so much of the rest of their lives we'll never get to see. You can headcanon them as asexual and potentially be right. I can headcanon them as not and be equally potentially right. Again, these are just a collection of my own thoughts, because I think the question of sexuality (or lack thereof) is just as interesting a facet of these characters as any other.

Note: Tbh I've been second-guessing this whole post and debated deleting the whole thing several times for being silly or unnecessary, bc I don't want anyone to think that this is the only thing I care about when it comes to this story/characters. But if nothing else, it's inspired me to write in a way that nothing has in a very long time, so I've decided it's worth continuing, if for no other reason than that.

This is going to be a mixed bag of textual reading, subtextual reading, and a full-on reach or two. It's been a while since I've been in an English class, but if my teachers expected me to find a deeper meaning behind blue curtains, you can expect me to read too deeply into the symbolism of a loaded rifle or an ox rib. (This is probably not what my professors had in mind when grading my literary analysis papers but oh well) My point is, if it feels like a reach, I'm as aware of it as you are. I am in no way saying that all (or even any) of my points made were deliberate on the part of Neil or the actors or the writers or the directors. I am no longer the delulu Apple Tree Yard child of my youth, I promise.

If anything said here is in any way offensive or hurtful to anyone in the asexual community, please do not hesitate to message me or comment and let me know exactly what it was. I promise you it is not my intention to do so, and am happy to clarify or outright edit anything that reads that way.

With all that being said, let's talk about why I think Crowley and Aziraphale would absolutely fuck nasty incorporate sex into their relationship.

Note: I am out of practice with essay writing, so I think I'll just go down the bullet points of notes I have been making, and expand on each as best I can

Food

Where better to start than with Aziraphale's introduction to Pleasures Of The Flesh? (Just a heads up, this entire post may feel very Aziraphale-heavy, and with good reason).

This might be the least hot take here. We've all seen the Job minisode. We've all seen That Scene.

Whether this was intentional or not, the symbolism here is off the charts. Eve was tempted by an apple. So why not go a similar route and tempt Aziraphale with another fruit, or cheese, or bread, or literally anything else for his first experience with food? Instead, we go with a huge, glistening slab of fresh meat that he proceeds to absolutely go feral upon, moaning and gasping into his meal while Crowley watches with what definitely doesn't look to be disgust or even satisfaction with a good temptation. There's surprise at the ferocity of Aziraphale's appetite, certainly. But ultimately he looks to be intensely fascinated by it, while the thunder crashes, the music crescendos, and the earth literally shakes around them.

(It's also interesting to note how very little it takes for Crowley to tempt him with the ox rib. One murmured suggestion, a bit of unwavering eye contact, and vavoom Aziraphale immediately meets him in the middle.)

Cut to Aziraphale devouring the rest of the meat with Crowley splayed back on a makeshift bed, drinking wine and continuing to watch him indulge through half-lidded eyes. Outside a thunderstorm rages while they're learning secrets about each other in warm flickering firelight. It's cosy, it's intimate, and if they'd thrown in a bearskin throw blanket, it might as well be a post-coital scene straight out of Game of Thrones.

The next time (chronologically) we see them discuss food is when Aziraphale "tempts" Crowley with oysters in Rome. So Crowley first tempts Aziraphale with meat and then Aziraphale tempts Crowley with what is widely regarded to be an aphrodisiac. Interesting.

And then chronologically after that, the Arrangement begins to form, which has always reeked of a friends with benefits situation. Just to throw that in there.

It's What Humans Do

In the very first episode, we're shown Gabriel's obvious disgust and bewilderment towards Aziraphale eating sushi, calling it "gross matter" and being proud of the fact that he does not sully his body with it. Aziraphale initially tries to defend his own enjoyment in it, before passing it off as something that humans do, as something he simply has to do in order to blend in (which we know very well is not the case).

He does this again in season 2, passing off Nina and Maggie being in love as "something humans do". But it isn't, is it? Angels are beings of love, and can sense it, and understand very well what it is... up to a point. Even romantic love is obviously within their wheelhouse, given what we now know happened between Gabriel and Beelzebub (we'll come back to them).

What the "humans do" that angels wouldn't understand is messy, physical forms of love.

But here's the thing: Aziraphale and Crowley love doing what the humans do. They love drinking, they (or at least Aziraphale) love eating. They love music. Crowley loves driving and sleeping and watching rom-coms and sitcoms. Aziraphale loves reading and doing magic and earning little licenses and certificates for achievement in his various hobbies. They love to playact at being human so much that they've stopped playacting and started building a genuinely human lifestyle for themselves and with each other.

Once together in an unambiguously romantic sense, why do we think they wouldn't also want to explore one of the most prominent, intimate, powerful human expressions of love and desire with each other?

Angels, Demons, & Asexuality

Here's where I really want to clarify that in no way do I mean that sex is necessary for a healthy, fulfilling, and loving romantic relationship, or that the lack of desire for sex makes you any less human. Asexuality is a sexuality as valid and human as any. What I would say is that it is definitely in the human minority compared to allosexuality.

Angels and demons, on the other hand, are predominately asexual. Sexless/genderless unless Making An Effort. (Which, btw, is a concept introduced as early as the original book; why even bring it up as a possibility? Why not keep angels/demons being sexless/asexual as a hard and fast rule, if not to open up the potential for later use? Chekhov's Effort, if you will. And isn't that something that Aziraphale in particular is shown to do time and time again? He makes an effort in French and driving and magic, doesn't he?)

And this is why I don't believe Aziraphale and Crowley necessarily need to be asexual, narratively. There is already a huge amount of ace rep within the angels and demons (and no, not just the horrible ones. Muriel also doesn't "drink the tea" and has no reason or desire thus far to Make An Effort, and there are certainly other angels and demons who aren't horrible like the archangels seem to be who likely wouldn't Make An Effort either).

The central conflict for Aziraphale and Crowley is that they are on their own side, the ones who went native, the ones who are so different in so many ways from their respective hives. It would make sense for them to also break away from traditional angel/demon asexuality.

I say "traditional angel/demon asexuality", because I would also like to note that I would absolutely not rule out demisexuality for either of them. This post is being written to as a response to people who specifically believe that they (like the rest of the angels/demons seem to be) would be sex-averse in a relationship, and that it wouldn't be a factor in their relationship. I could easily read them as demisexual, but I do think there would be no real way of verifying this, because they've never been able to form as close an emotional relationship with anyone else but each other. Certainly not in heaven, and I can't imagine they would be able to form that kind of attachment with any of the humans, who they love and emulate but ultimately regard as the separate species they are. So yes, they could either be allosexual or demisexual, in my opinion.

Then again, now that I think about it, Making An Effort itself could be a great metaphor for demisexuality, since they would be entirely sexless/asexual until they have enough of an emotional connection with someone to consciously manifest otherwise. Since the other angels and demons don't generally form those types of emotional connections with anyone, there hasn't been a precedent for it.

Except...

Brielzebub

We do have a precedent for it now, don't we? Gabriel and Beelzebub fell in love. They are a direct foil for Crowley and Aziraphale's relationship, speedrunning right through their courtship and finding their happily ever after on the other side of things.

For being such a 1 to 1 comparison, it feels deliberate that they did not kiss. They held hands, they were gooey with each other, but they did not kiss. That feels like such a deliberate thing to omit when you know what's to come at the end of the episode between Crowley and Aziraphale.

And going back to the food = sex metaphor for a moment, let's notice how even as they fell in love over the years, even when pints and crisps were there on the table in front of them, they never felt the desire to reach out for them. They didn't need to. It's a date (love story) even if you aren't eating dinner (sleeping together).

Yes, I know Jim liked hot chocolate. No, I am not counting it because I don't consider Jim and Gabriel to be the same person with the same proclivities, and Jim was highly suggestible at the time anyway.

Gabriel and Brielzebub's big happily ever after moment (as of now) was one between two asexual supernatural beings. They did not need to kiss to drive the point home. They showed what Crowley and Aziraphale could have, if they would only acknowledge it.

Crowley & Aziraphale's Dissatisfaction

But they do have that already, don't they? If you really think about it, what do Gabriel and Beelzebub do with each other that Crowley and Aziraphale don't already? They hold hands, they spend time together, they create little rituals, they give gifts, they're visibly and verbally affectionate with each other, etc. They are more or less already in a romantic asexual marriage relationship with each other, aren't they?

And it doesn't seem to be enough for either of them.

At the beginning of the season, Crowley is immediately shown to be unsatisfied with the way things are. Obviously part of it comes from living in his car, but it seems to be more than that (especially since Aziraphale makes it clear that the bookshop is just as much Crowley's as his, implying that he could have been living there the whole time and is choosing not to, for some reason?). You could argue he's feeling unmoored without Hell telling him what to do, but isn't that what he wanted? Isn't that what he still wants, by the end of the season? All season long, he's never indicated the desire for a new job, or a new project. He stopped the apocalypse because he wanted the freedom to openly spend time with Aziraphale, to spend his time on Earth however he sees fit. Until Gabriel arrives, he has exactly that (minus a flat).

So where does the dissatisfaction come from? And if it represents anything to do with his relationship, what does he want out of it that he isn't getting already?

I think Crowley only really comes to the realisation of what he's missing when Nina names it for him, not only putting them in the category of romantic, but physical (outright asking if they are sleeping together). These two posts [1], [2] go into more detail about what I mean, but I think it really pushes him into acknowledging that their relationship is more human than either of them have stopped to consider, and what that might mean as far as everything a human relationship can entail.

After all, Nina and Maggie only advised that he should talk to Aziraphale, make clear his feelings. The decision to kiss him, to tip them over the edge from nonphysical to physical, that was all him. And no, kissing isn't sex, but I wonder how taboo even that might be in the kind of all-encompassing asexuality most angels seem to identify with. (If they're disgusted by food and drink, I can only imagine what they think of snogging, much less sex.)

Aziraphale doesn't have this moment of someone observing their relationship from the outside. He loves Crowley, and as of 1941 probably even knows he's in love with him in a way that Crowley doesn't understand yet. Which makes sense, since love is technically his job, he'd be more likely to recognise it for what it is.

However, Aziraphale's reference for romance and relationships is Jane Austen. It's chaste. It's dancing and dinner and doing sweet things for each other and roses and candles and handholding. He contextualises his love for Crowley in that soft fantasy sort of way, where it's there, it's obviously there, but it's neat and easy and unspoken. Not to quote Glee in this, the year of our lord 2023, but it's all very "the touch of the fingertips is as sexy as it gets".

Someone should tell that to Aziraphale's face, then.

I'm not going to pretend I know what Michael Sheen's script notes were, but there were definitely some Choices™ made. Because yes, there were plenty of moments in both seasons with Aziraphale looking at Crowley in a sweet, loving, smitten way. And then there were moments that were yearning.

But yearning for what, exactly? All of those sappy Jane Austen tropes already apply to the two of them. So why are there moments where Aziraphale is looking Crowley up and down like the last eclair in the window and licking his lips and visibly exhaling like he's trying to get in control of himself (see: Bastille scene + Crowley telling Muriel to ask him if they have any other questions about love)? Why is Aziraphale not only unconcerned when Crowley shoves him bodily up against a wall in s1, but staring at his lips and a beat too late in noticing Sister Mary's arrival? Why are some of his lines so suggestive? I'm sorry, but the car ride after the church explosion might as well have been the beginning of a Pizza Man porn with a really weird Blitz theme. If even my mother picked up on that vibe, I can't imagine it wasn't intentional on part of both the dialogue and the delivery.

(This section may feel like more of a reach/joke, but I'm really only 20% joking. These are writers and actors who are EXTREMELY good at their jobs; they know what they were doing here.)

More importantly, I don't think Aziraphale is even aware that there is more to what he wants. He lives in the Jane Austen fantasy and it never even occurs to him that he might be interested in anything further. It never even occurs to him that, as an angel, there is anything further to be interested in in the first place. Until Crowley forces it to occur to him. Just like I believe Nina forced Crowley to confront the idea that romantic love is what he's been feeling all along, I believe Crowley forced Aziraphale to confront the idea that physical intimacy is something he's been wanting, without even realising.

Aziraphale's Hedonism

Expanding on Aziraphale for a moment. We talked about his relationship with food, but we all know that Aziraphale is defined by his love of things that Feel Good.

It isn't just that he and Crowley love human things. Aziraphale loves the best of the best, or at least his version of it. He doesn't just love food, he loves going to fancy restaurants. He doesn't just love clothes, he loves soft, cosy, warm, plush clothes, or shiny, flashy, bougie fashion. He loves the warmth of tea and cocoa, loves getting drunk, and sitting in a comfy chair in the sunlight. He doesn't just experience, he indulges.

Given the emphasis put on things that Aziraphale loves just because they Feel Good, it feels narratively strange to assume that he wouldn't enjoy the feeling of being touched, or that he wouldn't be willing to try it, at least once, with someone he cared very deeply for. And just like the ox rib, I think that once he gets the first taste of things, he would absolutely tip over into complete and utter self-indulgence.

Dancing

I also think that dancing could be construed as a huge metaphor here. After all, we're told flat-out that angels don't Dance. Except one.

I would argue that Aziraphale, in fact, Made An Effort to learn how to Dance. He threw himself into the gavotte with delight (at a Victorian gay club; noted) and worked hard to be good at it. He's chomping at the bit to Dance with Crowley, working up the nerve to ask him with undeniably romantic intent and eagerness. So, angels don't Dance... unless they Make An Effort to do so.

We are told that demons, on the other hand, do Dance, but not well. Makes sense, since they're the ones who would want to encourage a deadly sin like lust, but have as little understanding of human love and physical intimacy as the angels. Crowley, however, is shown to be an excellent dancer at the ball, especially in his compatibility with Aziraphale.

(But Aziraphale WandaVisioned the ball so everyone knew how to dance! Yes, he did. However, the rest of the brainwashing doesn't seem to affect Crowley in any way, and they did actually live through the time period where this sort of dancing was a social norm; I'd be surprised if he never needed to learn. After all, the demons can't spell either, and Crowley is at least functionally literate, as far as we know.)

As of today, it's also been confirmed that when Aziraphale asked Crowley to dance, Crowley replied with "you don't dance." Not "WE don't dance". So going along with the metaphor, Crowley is just now discovering that Dancing is something Aziraphale is interested in at all, much less with him, and not denying that he himself is interested in Dancing. In his defense, I believe he was asleep for a few years while Aziraphale was learning the gavotte, so he wasn't exactly aware of Aziraphale's hot girl summer.

Love Languages

I want to expand on that; Crowley and Aziraphale's compatibility. Specifically in regards to their individual love languages.

We all know Crowley's love language is Acts of Service. I don't think there's any debate there. He loves it, Aziraphale loves it, they're both aware of it, we're all aware of it, God and Satan are aware of it, no surprise there.

You may disagree with me, but I believe Aziraphale's love language is Physical Touch, for a number of reasons. One of which being his aforementioned hedonism. Aziraphale likes things that Feel Good, remember? He likes soft clothes, and well-worn books. Neil himself has said that they like holding hands. And any time he is taken by surprise (Brielzebub getting together, the wave of love in Tadfield, etc.) what is the first thing he does? Reaches out for Crowley. He stops him with a hand to the chest in the pub. He leads him by the hand to the dance floor. He guides him by the waist in the graveyard. He reaches out during the entire Brielzebub scene, whether he can reach Crowley or not. Despite his own turmoil, he grasps at Crowley's back during the kiss.

The one time Crowley reaches out for him (not counting the kiss yet; we'll get there), he is aggressively pushed against a wall (by someone he loves and trusts) with a complete and utter lack of concern (and perhaps some interest, depending on how you read it).

And when he isn't reaching out for anyone, or there isn't anyone to reach out to? Well, he's wringing his own hands together, squeezing his own fingers, as if to find that physical comfort in himself.

So. With that theory in mind, we have Aziraphale (Physical Touch) + Crowley (Acts of Service). Throw in 6000+ years of deep love, cherished companionship, and forcibly repressed longing, and there is a very real potential of this combination resulting in fierce sexual compatibility. Where Aziraphale would want to touch and be touched, to indulge in physical pleasure with someone he adores, in the same the way he indulges in every other fine thing in his life. And where Crowley would want to indulge him in return, to give him everything he wants, and to take pleasure in Aziraphale's pleasure, in the same way he enjoys watching him take joy in food everything else.

So Aziraphale is an angel who is insecure about his own less-than-holy desires, who would want to treat Crowley like a luxury to be touched and cherished and adored. And Crowley is a demon who has, over the millennia, been unhappy about how they've been forced to deny even their friendship with each other, who would want Aziraphale to feel comfortable and safe and encouraged to indulge in earthly delights. That sounds like a stunning recipe for sexual compatibility to me.

"You said 'trust me'" / "And you did"

Just like the Job minisode, the Blitz is RIFE with symbolism (intentional or otherwise). This one will be quick, but I did want to touch on it because I thought it was interesting. Maybe I'm reaching at this point, but I'm assuming you read the tin.

First of all, Crowley not wanting to admit to never firing a gun before; comes off as someone who very much does not want to admit to their crush that they're a virgin ("You must have done this lots of times!" / "Umm.... yyyyyeah.")

(You could make the argument that Aziraphale having a firearms license and a Derringer in a hollowed-out book is symbolic of him not being a virgin while Crowley is. I disagree, for reasons I'll go into later, but it's a valid reading. However, I see it more like keeping a condom in your wallet; it's there in case you need it, but the opportunity has not yet risen no pun intended.)

More importantly, the theme of this entire minisode is trust. We already know they trust each other with their lives against the rest of Heaven, Hell, and the world. But specifically, this is about the importance of having complete trust in your partner in a charged, physically vulnerable, intimate moment, where the only danger is between the two of you.

Aziraphale needs to believe Crowley would never hurt him if he can help it. Crowley needs to trust Aziraphale's unwavering blind faith in him. Frankly, it all feels very symbolic of two people deeply in love losing their respective virginities with each other.

The trick is a success, and they share an intimate candlelit dinner in which they reaffirm their faith in each other. Aziraphale also begins to voice his agreement with Crowley, that maybe Heaven's rules shouldn't have to be as black and white as they are, and that there are benefits to... blurring the lines, shades of grey, wink wink (at which point even my mom was like, whoa guys, this is a family show).

Btw also: Can we all agree how much it looked like Crowley was getting ready to get a lapdance in that one scene? You know the one.

Also also: "Aim for my mouth"? Come on.

The Birds & The Bees

Now that I think of it, there's also something to be said for the fact that Crowley and Aziraphale are both obviously familiar with where babies come from (how they're made and how they're born) while the other angels aren't.

Something something Aziraphale and Crowley fundamentally understand sex and reproduction in a way the other angels (and probably demons) very much do not, nor have any desire to.

Probably not important. Just thought it was worth mentioning.

The Kiss™ & Religious Trauma

The Kiss. Where to even begin?

This has definitely been the hardest one to start, because there is so much going on here that I definitely won't be able to cover it all, and will certainly miss a few things here and there.

Aziraphale's reaction to the kiss afterwards is the most interesting to me. And I don't mean directly after, I don't mean the "I forgive you" part. I mean the way he touches his lips when Crowley is no longer in the room and he no longer needs to save face, when he is completely alone. Had it been directly after the kiss, it would have been rightfully read as horror, or disgust, a shield to discourage further action.

It's not. It isn't just a touch, it's a press. As desperate and angry and unexpected and imperfect as the kiss had been, Aziraphale is pressing it into himself, recreating the feeling as best he can. Beneath all the poor timing and shock and hurt from their fight and fallout, I think it's fair to say that it was something he enjoyed. Something he doesn't think he should enjoy, something that Feels Good that he only allows himself to indulge in when completely alone.

Remember, Aziraphale's idea of love is Jane Austen and gentleness and courtship and fantasy. If he'd ever even considered kissing an option, it might have been gentle pecks, cheek kisses, forehead kiss, hand kisses. Soft, safe, chaste affection.

Crowley's kiss turns all of that on its head. He introduces physical intimacy in a very real, very messy, very human way that I don't think Aziraphale ever even considered could apply to them. Considering what other angels are like and what they look down on, even Aziraphale's Jane Austen fantasies probably would have been considered taboo.

So for their first kiss to be rough and desperate and passionate in the way it was, of course he was confused and in shock. It was deeply physical, and as overwhelming and awful as it was in the moment, it Felt Good. Enough that he grasped at Crowley and kissed back, if only just for a moment, before stopping himself. Enough that he actively pressed it into his lips afterwards, in private, to remember.

I adore how Neil has decided to evolve these characters past the first book/season. More so in this season, Aziraphale and Crowley have both become such interesting allegories for queer people on either side of the spectrum of toxic religion. Aziraphale in particular obviously, because he is the side that so desperately wants to believe, to make a difference, and to unlearn all of the propaganda he's been fed over such a long time. Just like so much of organised religion, there is so much that he is told, time and time again, that he should not want, that he is silly or stupid or outright wrong for wanting. It reminds me so much of the severe Catholic guilt one might feel for wanting/engaging in sex for the first time, and the stigma of being queer layered on top of that.

What is so critical to Aziraphale's character is that he goes on wanting, and more than that, actively pursues. He was convinced to go up against Heaven and Hell and stop all of Armageddon because he wanted to go on listening to music and eating lunch and reading books and enjoying the simple company of the person he cares most deeply for, even if that person is supposed to be the enemy.

All this to say that if angels are as generally asexual/sex-averse as I believe them to be, narratively speaking, it would make sense for Aziraphale to be singular in that regard as well. Mirroring his first experience with food, it would make sense for Crowley to be the one to first introduce this new messy, physical, human dynamic between them, for Aziraphale to hesitate (obviously we are at the Hesitation phase at the moment), and then (eventually) for him to dive in wholeheartedly, to absolutely glut himself on this new thing that Feels Good. It would make sense for his character development to show him overcoming his metaphorical Catholic guilt and pursuing the sexual intimacy most (if not all) of the other angels would scorn.

(I can't help but remember that plot idea Neil described from the unwritten sequel, with Aziraphale in a hotel room trying to watch a full porno by way of the free 2-minute teaser clips so he wasn't technically sinning by paying for it. I so hope this is used in season 3, because gosh, I wonder why Aziraphale would suddenly be so interested in observing human physical intimacy after 6,000 years. Lonely and doing a little surreptitious research there, angel?)

Crowley, on the other hand, is the queer person who has broken free from his toxic religion. He prides himself on being his own person, on their his own side. He doesn't have the hang-ups Aziraphale does. He doesn't worry that he's going to be judged or cast aside for wanting things he's not supposed to. So it only makes sense for him to be the first one to suggest/initiate physical intimacy. It makes sense for him to be the one who "goes too fast" (another fantastic example of this dynamic beginning as early as s1; what is that conversation in the car meant to represent, if not Aziraphale being overwhelmed by the intensity of their relationship, and his fear of succumbing to it when he believes he shouldn't? It's also interesting that this is the first conversation to take place in Soho, just after watching Aziraphale realise he's caught feelings for a demon, with the red glow of lust serving as the backdrop).

Do I think the kiss in and of itself was sexual? No. I think it was a passionate and devastating last-ditch effort on Crowley's part to convey the way he feels for Aziraphale. Not just that he loves him, but that he loves him in the most human way possible. But I do think that the kiss represents how they can move forward from here, and what they might want to explore with each other once they feel free enough to do so.

In Conclusion

I am sure, deep in my bones (unless we are explicitly told otherwise), that this was both of their first kisses no, I'm not counting the gavotte, and that neither of them have ever thought to do anything else physical with the humans while they have been on Earth. Like I said before, they adore the human race and lifestyle in general, but ultimately view them as a separate species altogether, and they seem mostly happy to keep to themselves and each other, unless otherwise necessary. I just can't see either of them being drawn enough to a human to pursue anything close to sex. If Crowley in particular has had anything to do with sex in the context of temptations, I'm positive he would be inciting lust amongst the humans themselves, not involving himself directly. At least not that directly.

So, like every other human experience they've had on Earth, sex is something new that they could explore together, just the two of them, on their own side. A deeply intimate, tangible declaration of their love and everything they've gone through to earn it. A visceral finger to give both Heaven and Hell. A renewed appreciation for their corporations and for each other's. A enjoyable method for immortal beings to simply pass the time in each other's company. A new and exciting way to Feel Good, and all the variations that come with it.

You might agree with this post, or you might not. Whether this is something that is ever addressed or not, it doesn't matter to me. This is a brilliant love story either way, and I genuinely feel so privileged to witness it.

But I just can't find it in myself to imagine, given everything we know about these two characters, that sex isn't an experience they would both consume with wholehearted enthusiasm, curiosity, and profound, ineffable adoration.

___________________________________

Bonus feature: the very silly notes I made to myself that inspired this post

[qwertyprophecy]

Mortholme Post-Mortem

The Dark Queen of Mortholme has been out for two weeks, and I've just been given an excellent excuse to write some more about its creation by a lenghty anonymous ask.

Under the cut, hindsight on the year spent making Mortholme and answers to questions about game dev, grouped under the following topics:

Time spent on development Programming Obstacles Godot Animation Pixel art Environment assets Writing Completion Release

Regarding time spent on development

Nope, I’ve got no idea anymore how long I spent on Mortholme. It took a year but during that time I worked on like two other games and whatever else. And although I started with the art, I worked on all parts simultaneously to avoid getting bored. This is what I can say:

Art took a ridiculous amount of time, but that was by choice (or compulsion, one might say). I get very excitable and particular about it. At most I was making about one or two Hero animations in a day (for a total of 8 + upgraded versions), but anything involving the Queen took multiple times longer. When I made the excecutive decision that her final form was going to have a bazillion tentacles I gave up on scheduling altogether.

Coding went quickly at the start when I was knocking out a feature after another, until it became the ultimate slow-burn hurdle at the end. Testing, bugfixing, and playing Jenga with increasingly unwieldy code kept oozing from one week to the next. For months, probably? My memory’s shot but I have a mark on my calendar on the 18th of August that says “Mortholme done”. Must’ve been some optimistic deadline before the ooze.

Writing happened in extremely productive week-long bursts followed by nothing but nitpicky editing while I focused on other stuff. Winner in the “changed most often” category, for sure.

Sound was straightforward, after finishing a new set of animations I spent a day or two to record and edit SFX for them. Music I originally scheduled two weeks for, but hubris and desire for more variants bumped it to like a month.

Regarding programming

The Hero AI is certainly the part that I spent most of my coding time on. The basic way the guaranteed dodging works is that all the Queen’s attacks send a signal to the Hero, who calculates a “danger zone” based on the type of attack and the Queen’s location. Then, if the Hero is able to dodge that particular attack (a probability based on how much it's been used & story progression), they run a function to dodge it.

Each attack has its own algorithm that produces the best safe target position to go to based on the Hero’s current position (and other necessary actions like jumping). Those algorithms needed a whole lot of testing to code counters for all the scenarios that might trip the Hero up.

The easiest or at least most fun parts for me to code are the extra bells and whistles that aren’t critical but add flair. Like in the Hero’s case, the little touches that make them seem more human: a reaction speed delay that increases over time, random motions and overcompensation that decrease as they gain focus, late-game Hero taking prioritising aggressive positiniong, a “wait for last second” function that lets the Hero calculate how long it’ll take them to move to safety and use the information to squeeze an extra attack in…

The hardest attack was the magic circle, as it introduced a problem in my code so far. The second flare can overlap with other attacks, meaning the Hero had to keep track of two danger zones at once. For a brief time I wanted to create a whole new system that would constantly update a map of all current danger zones—that would allow for any number of overlapping attacks, which would be really cool! Unfortunately it didn’t gel with my existing code, and I couldn’t figure out its multitudes of problems since, well…

Regarding obstacles

Thing is, I’m hot garbage as a programmer. My game dev’s all self-taught nonsense. So after a week of failing to get this cool system to work, I scrapped it and instead made a spaghetti code monstrosity that made magic circle run on a separate danger zone, and decided I’d make no more overlapping attacks. That’s easy; I just had to buffer the timing of the animation locks so that the Hero would always have time to move away. (I still wanted to keep the magic circle, since it’s fun for the player to try and trick the Hero with it.)

There’s my least pretty yet practical solo dev advice: if you get stuck because you can’t do something, you can certainly try to learn how to do it, but occasionally the only way to finish a project within a decade to work around those parts and let them be a bit crap.

I’m happy to use design trickery, writing and art to cover for my coding skills. Like, despite the anonymous asker’s description, the Hero’s dodging is actually far from perfect. I knew there was no way it was ever going to be, which is why I wrote special dialogue to account for a player finding an exploit that breaks the intended gameplay. (And indeed, when the game was launched, someone immediately found it!)

Regarding Godot

It’s lovely! I switched from Unity years ago and it’s so much simpler and more considerate of 2D games. The way its node system emphasises modularity has improved my coding a lot.

New users should be aware that a lot of tutorials and advice you find online may be for Godot 3. If something doesn’t work, search for what the Godot 4 equivalent is.

Regarding animation

I’m a professional animator, so my list of tips and techniques is a tad long… I’ll just give a few resource recommendations: read up on the classic 12 principles of animation (or the The Illusion of Life, if you’d like the whole book) and test each out for yourself. Not every animation needs all of these principles, but basically every time you’ll be looking at an animation and wondering how to make it better, the answer will be in paying attention to one or more of them.

Game animation is its own beast, and different genres have their own needs. I’d recommend studying animations that do what you’d like to do, frame by frame. If you’re unsure of how exactly to analyse animation for its techniques, youtube channel New Frame Plus shows an excellent example.

Oh, and film yourself some references! The Queen demanded so much pretend mace swinging that it broke my hoover.

Regarding pixel art

The pixel art style was picked for two reasons: 1. to evoke a retro game feel to emphasise the meta nature of the narrative, and 2. because it’s faster and more forgiving to animate in than any of my other options.

At the very start I was into the idea of doing a painterly style—Hollow Knight was my first soulslike—but quickly realised that I’d either have to spend hundreds of hours animating the characters, or design them in a simplistic way that I deemed too cutesy for this particular game. (Hollow Knight style, one day I’d love to emulate you…)

I don’t use a dedicated program, just Photoshop for everything like a chump. Pixel art doesn’t need anything fancy, although I’m sure specialist programs will keep it nice and simple.

Pixel art’s funny; its limitations make it dependent on symbolism, shortcuts and viewer interpretation. You could search for some tutorials on basic principles (like avoiding “jaggies” or the importance of contrast), but ultimately you’ll simply want to get a start in it to find your own confidence in it. I began dabbling years ago by asking for character requests on Tumblr and doodling them in pixels in whatever way I could think of.

Regarding environment assets

The Queen’s throne room consists of two main sprites—one background and one separate bit of the door for the Hero disappear behind—and then about fifty more for the lighting setup. There’s six different candle animations, there’s lines on the floor that need to go on top of character reflections, all the candle circles and lit objects are separated so that the candles can be extinguished asynchronously; and then there’s purple phase 2 versions of all of the above.

This is all rather dumb. There’s simpler ways in Godot to do 2D lighting with shaders and a built-in system (I use those too), but I wanted control over the exact colours so I just drew everything in Photoshop the way I wanted it. Still, it highlights how mostly you only need a single background asset and separated foreground objects; except if you need animated objects or stuff that needs to change while the game’s running, you’ll get a whole bunch more.

I wholeheartedly applaud having a go at making your own game art, even if you don’t have any art background! The potential for cohesion in all aspects of design—art, game, narrative, sound—is at the heart of why video games are such an exciting medium!

Regarding writing

Finding the voices of the Queen and the Hero was the quick part of the process. They figured that out they are almost as soon as writing started. I’d been mulling this game over in my mind for so long, I had already a specific idea in mind of what the two of them stood for, conceptually and thematically. When they started bantering, I felt like all I really had to do was to guide it along the storyline, and then polish.

What ended up taking so long was that there was too much for them to say for how short the game needed to be to not feel overstretched. Since I’d decided to go with two dialogue options on my linear story, it at least gave me twice the amount of dialogue that I got to write, but it wasn’t enough!

The first large-scale rewrite was me going over the first draft and squeezing in more interesting things for the Queen and the Hero to discuss, more branching paths and booleans. There was this whole thing where the player’s their dialogue choices over multiple conversations would lead them to about four alternate interpretations of why the Queen is the way she is. This was around the time I happened to finally play Disco Elysium, so of course I also decided to also add a ton of microreactivity (ie. small changes in dialogue that acknowledge earlier player choices) to cram in even more alternate dialogue. I spent ages tinkering with the exact nuances till I was real proud of it.

Right until the playtesters of this convoluted contraption found the story to be unclear and confusing. For some reason. So for my final rewrite, I picked out my favourite bits and cut everything else. With the extra branching gone, there was more room to improve the pacing so the core of the story could breathe. The microreactivity got to stay, at least!

A sample of old dialogue from the overcomplicated version:

Regarding completion

The question was “what kept me going to actually finish the game, since that is a point many games never even get to meet?” and it’s a great one because I forgot that’s a thing. Difficulties finishing projects, that is—I used to think it was hard, but not for many years. Maybe I’ve completed so many small-scale games already that it hardly seems that unreasonable of an expectation? (Game jams. You should do game jams.)

I honestly never had any doubt I was going to finish Mortholme. When I started in late autumn last year, I was honestly expecting the concept to be too clunky to properly function; but I wished to indulge in silliness and make it exist anyways. That vision would’ve been easy to finish, a month or two of low stakes messing around, no biggie. (Like a game jam!)

Those months ran out quickly as I had too much fun making the art to stop. It must’ve been around the time I made this recording that it occurred to me that even if the game was going to be clunky, it could still genuinely work on the back of good enough storytelling technique—not just writing, but also the animation and the Hero’s evolving behaviour during the gameplay segments which I’d been worried about. The reaction to my early blogging was also heartening. Other people could also imagine how this narrative could be interesting!

A few weeks after that I started planning out the narrative beats I wanted the dialogue to reach, and came to the conclusion that I really, really wanted it to work. Other people had to see this shit, I thought. There’s got to be freaks out there who’d love to experience this tragedy, and I’m eager to deliver.

That’s why I was fine with the project’s timeline stretching out. If attention to detail and artistry was going to make this weird little story actually come to life, then great, because that’s exactly the part of development I love doing most. Projects taking longer than expected can be frustrating, but accepting that as a common part of game dev is what allows confidence in eventual their completion regardless.

Regarding release

Dear anonymous’s questions didn’t involve post-release concerns, but it seems fitting to wrap up the post-mortem by talking about the two things about Mortholme's launch that were firsts for me, and thus I was unprepared for.

1. This was the first action game I've coded. Well, sort of—I consider Mortholme to be a story first and foremost, with gameplay so purposefully obnoxious it benefits from not being thought of as a “normal” game. Still, the action elements are there. For someone who usually sticks to making puzzle games since they’re easier to code, this was my most mechanically fragile game yet. So despite all my attempts at playtesting and failsafes, it had a whole bunch of bugs on release.

Game-breaking bugs, really obvious bugs, weird and confusing bugs. It took me over a week to fix all that was reported (and I’m only hoping they indeed are fully fixed). That feels slow; I should’ve expected it was going to break so I could’ve been faster to respond. Ah well, next time I know what I’ll be booking my post-release week for.

2. This was my first game that I let players give me money for. Sure, it’s pay-what-you-want, but for someone as allergic to business decisions as I am, it was a big step. I guess I was worried of being shown that nobody would consider my art worth financial compensation. Well, uh, that fear has gone out of the window now. I’m blown away by how kind and generous the players of Mortholme have been with their donations.

I can’t imagine it's likely to earn a living wage from pouring hundreds of hours into pay-what-you-want passion projects, but the support has me heartened to seek out a future where I could make these weird stories and a living both.

Those were the unexpected parts. The part I must admit I was expecting—but still infinitely grateful for—was that Mortholme did in fact reach them freaks who’d find it interesting. The responses, comments, analyses, fan works (there’s fic and art!! the dream!!), inspiration, and questions (like the ones prompting me to write this post-mortem) people have shared with me thanks to Mortholme… They’ve all truly been what I was hoping for back when I first gave myself emotions thinking about a mean megalomaniac and stubborn dipshit.

Thank you for reading, thank you for playing, and thank you for being around.

[cafehyunji]

Video Phone | Abby Anderson

you sayin that you want me? So press record, I'll let you film me. On your video phone

content : smut, fingering, moaning, minor cussing, modern!abby

I recommend Minors do not interact !!

Knowing Abby, she would take late shifts at the fire department, being in the status of the hard working (and hot) fire fighter, leaving you home alone with your rampant thoughts of her and her “actions”, and today was one of those days. Rather than the usual fingering alone to just the thought of her while laying on her side of the bed you both lay in, listening to a playlist you made for times alone, you take another route. Recording it and sending it to her.

Abby gets a notification as she finishes up the last 30 of her shift, she swipes up pressing the notification with the contact name “Angel 🤍” with an attachment. She’s greeted with the view of you in a pair of lingerie she couldn’t recognize, quickly reaching in her pockets she ruffles around to find her headphones, pulling out the once white case now turned yellow from her hectic days of playing ‘the garden wife” in your backyard on her off days.

Taking out the small pieces inside and placed them in her ear. She looks around a bit not knowing if this could be the regular ask of how your outfit looks or something else, once she feels the coast is clear she starts the video. The phone is set up close enough, giving her a great view of your glistening folds in the dim room, lit by the thin cheap fairy lights you bought on a whim months ago. She cringed seeing them in your hands after telling you they were a fire risk days before they came, but she couldn’t disappoint her beautiful girl… could she?

Soft moans flowed through the small white pieces of plastic, making her feel as if she was in the room sitting and watching as you touched yourself for her. She loved how the dim small warm tinted lights hit your brown slick folds, listening to the sweet gush of her pretty pussy taking in your two digits with ease. From behind the screen, dear lord was she drooling and parched (and nearly having a waterfall between her thighs.) “I wish you were here…” you softly pant, speeding up your thrust. “I don’t feel right without you… but I’m so impatient.. fuck..” You huff, panting and throwing your head back in pleasure.

You softly whine, lifting your head to look at the phone watching yourself as you touch yourself thinking of Abby sitting, and watching at the edge of the bed telling you what to do. A few more pumps of your digits bring you a harsh feeling of relief, causing you to gush all over the newly washed fitted sheets you put on hours ago. you toss your head back onto the pillows, letting the video end on its own before getting up and sending the good parts to Abby.

©cafehyunji 2023

A/n: Long time no see... It's been a long ass time since I've posted something on here that wasn't a repost.. at least Im not treating y'all like my editing account... (I haven't posted there in like 6-7 months.. I'm treating it like the plague..)

[minustwofingers]

exoplanet epilogue

pairing: ellie williams x fem!reader

summary: you’ve won the life lottery as one of the few people on earth with parents who gained admittance to the most prestigous safezone in the world after the outbreak. but after a lab accident sends you out to jackson, wyoming, real life hits you fast. it’s a good thing that a hot lesbian finds u. (lol). mean ellie at first, slowburn, enemies to friends to lovers, fem reader asf

series masterlist

warnings: one vague mention of nsfw content if you squint, probably many errors that i missed bc i didn't edit this too well

a/n: hey. been a while. hope you guys enjoy. i know this one is short. i'm going to release deleted scenes/abandoned plots that i've written for them, but i just find it exceedingly difficult to write domestic bliss because that is an experience i have not had in literal years and have decided to make that everyone else's problem. hope the 2 remaining exoplanet readers enjoy this, thanks for waiting for over a year!

word count: 1.6k

enjoy!

ex·o·plan·et: a planet that orbits a star outside the solar system.

Love is not easy for Ellie. It has never been easy, not since Riley. There was Joel, who seemed like an exception at first when they met, like a mountain of strength that could never be moved. Even in the apocalypse  he seemed immortal . But then that day at the university happened, and for the first time she saw her image of him crack open and bleed out along with him. 

I should know better she’d promised herself that day, all bloody fingers and sloppily sewn stitches. I need to know better.

Because if the end of the world has taught her anything, it’s that nothing lasts. Not Riley. Not humanity. And, it logically follows, nothing else that she loves. 

It’s why Cat didn’t work out. Or, better said, Ellie didn’t work out for Cat. 

“I can’t do this anymore,” Ellie had choked out to her one night after Cat had come back from patrol, coated in blood from an infected she’d had to kill off. She’d never been able to sleep when she knew that Cat was out, even if she herself had a patrol early the next morning.

Cat had frowned, pausing the washcloth she was swiping across her bloodied face. “What do you mean? I thought what we had was good between us.” 

“It is,” Ellie had said. “That’s not it.”

Cat had just given her a skeptical look. 

“It is,” Ellie had insisted. “I just can’t handle worrying about you. I’m sorry. I’m a wreck every time you leave Jackson.” 

“I don’t understand,” Cat had said. “You go on patrol. We’re both always fine. I’m going to be fine, babe. You don’t need to worry about me.” 

Ellie had glanced down discreetly at the arm Cat had just finished tattooing. She’d known that she was being irrational. But at the end of the day, Ellie had known of many people around her to die, and she herself hadn’t died yet. And then there was the immune thing, which just fed into the whole fucked up mess. 

“I’m sorry,” she’d said again. “I’m really sorry.” 

And that was that. Cat went back to her life as someone who was no longer Ellie’s girlfriend, and Ellie went back to moodily sulking around the house, writing in her journal about how for some reason she was always destined to be alone and that it’s better that way until Joel made her go out to see Dina and Jesse.

But it’s different with you. Love is easy with you. 

It’s in everything, from the way you link your pinky fingers under the dinner table where no one can see to the way she lets you hog the blankets every night.

It’s in the flowers you bring her in the spring from your gardening shifts, the trinkets she brings you from patrols, your hand in hers as you stargaze in the dead of winter.

Weeks stretch into months which eventually, somehow, inexplicably, stretch into years. Joel’s house turns into “our” house—the recently vacated one by the meadow with the obnoxiously blue kitchen cabinets. The empty rooms turn into something with meaning. The living room becomes a shrine to the stars, the old guest room a dedication to the stray black cat that had been left behind by some family passing, and, most predictably, the bedroom a shrine to you. Or her. Depends on the day. 

Ellie is actually a very good cook, which is the only reason you two don’t starve. She spends her evenings in front of the stove, spatula in hand and frown etched firmly into her face as she surveys the pan in front of her.

You ooh and aah at everything she plates, whether it be a slice of buttered toast or some elaborate cut of steak. 

But she doesn’t always cook. Sometimes, for old time’s sake, Joel invites you two over for dinner. Like he did tonight. 

From where she sits next to you at the dining table, she leans down into your ear like she’s going to whisper something sweet. Instead: “Are you going to finish that?” She motions to the thick slice of bread sitting untouched on your plate.

You roll your eyes, stabbing your fork into it and dropping it on her plate. 

She beams back at you, and you suppress a smile as you turn back to the conversation between Dina and Joel. 

“...and I told Maria that if she was going to keep putting me on the shitty patrol routes with fucking Robert, she was going to have to be okay with some attitude from me afterwards,” Dina is saying, a fork animatedly hanging from her fingers. She looks better than ever, skin glowing and eyes bright. So do you, but that’s sort of a moot point—Ellie always thinks you look good.

Joel raises an eyebrow. “Well, I can have a talk with Tommy and see if he can have a word with ‘er.” 

There’s a nudge at Ellie’s hand, the one that’s resting on her thigh under the table. It’s your pinky finger, edging over to hook with hers. 

She nudges you back, but rolls her eyes at you so you know that she thinks you’re being a sap.

From the dim candlelight of the kitchen, she can see the ghost of dirt from the garden under your nails. You keep them short and bare now, a far cry from the pearly oval-shaped ones of the past. For a while, you tried to track down all the nail files and clear polish in Jackson to keep them looking pretty, but after Maria started exclusively putting you on gardening and baking duty, you were lucky to go a day without them breaking. 

Ellie isn’t complaining. The only job that requires you to not be doing hard work with your hands is patrol, and it’s tough to tell which one of you hates the idea more. You, because you’ll be worried sick about the prospect of getting killed; Ellie, because she’s worried even sicker every time you leave the bounds without her. Patrolling together isn’t so bad, but Ellie’s never forgotten the way you screamed after she pulled that arrow out all those years ago, and she’s vowed to never let it happen again. 

“We should probably get going,” you say after Dina’s finished complaining about her Maria-flavored angst. “Both of us are on morning shifts.” 

“Well, shit,” says Joel. “I was going to offer you some coffee before you went.” 

The walk from Joel’s to yours is short, just down the lane. Coincidentally, the only empty house that’d been ready for you two to move into was the one that overlooks the meadow by the stables. Something about it still tastes like fate, even though it’s been a year and a half since Ellie moved in with you. 

“Promise me you won’t do anything stupid tomorrow morning,” you’re telling her as you both shed your jackets and boots in the foyer. “I don’t want to be a widow this young.” 

“As long as you promise me the same. I don’t want to hear that you fell into the oven while baking bread or something.”

You cross your arms and glare at her, and there’s a little kick of affection in Ellie’s chest. “This isn’t a joke!” 

“I know, I know.” She’s standing in front of you in an instant, hands cupping your face as she grins at you. “But I’m immune. I’m basically, like, invincible. You don’t need to worry about me. You, however…”

As the sun sets, you let her lead you to bed. When your shirt falls to the ground, there’s still a slight mark on your lower belly where the arrow had struck you all those years ago—a stamp of sorts, a reminder of a time much more complicated and arduous. Evidence that everything that happened really did, even though it feels like ever since you’ve shown up nothing in her life has fallen into the realm of probability anymore.

Like, really. Not even straight people get their soulmate virtually delivered to their doorstep. Ellie’s won two lotteries, and only one of them has anything to do with her immunity.

You two typically fall asleep right after, night accelerating into morning with the speed lent to it by exhaustion from a hard day’s work. But this night is different.

It’s special. 

It’s about to be the same day you parted ways, back in the meadow up north so many years ago. The one where you screamed out for her as the scanner glowed red, where you had to be physically dragged into the helicopter. Somehow she knows she’ll dream of it again, like she does every year when this day rolls around. 

You looked younger then, Ellie realizes as she looks down at you. You’re asleep and none the wiser, mouth slightly agape. There’s a few fine lines in the corner of your eyes now. An etched path where the skin of your cheeks meet when you smile. She can’t see them now, but she knows that there’s a gray hair or two somewhere on your head. You’d pointed it out to her in horror just a week or so ago, citing bad family genes that cause graying before 30.

But while you’re scandalized by the thought of going gray, Ellie is enthralled.

Riley will never get smile lines. Sam will always have the chubby cheeks of a child. 

But you—you get to grow old. Somehow she’s known this in the back of her head for some time now, but seeing the physical evidence of it, proof that you’ve made it this long, soothes her tired soul in a way she didn’t know was possible. 

So when she finally sleeps, she doesn’t dream of anything.

final a/n: and that's a wrap! after over a year of me stringing you guys along, i've finally completed exoplanet. this has been such a wild ride and a lot of stuff has happened since we last spoke. i'm excited to be back. thanks for reading <3

tags: @intrnetdoll @dazedshoon @lovecaraya @pctcr @sariyaflowr @loser-keiji @prettyplant0 @666findgod @sawaagyapong @rystarkov @buzzybuzzsposts @addisonnie @galacticstxrdust @elliesbabygirl​ @pinkazelma @ariianelle @lu002 @blairfox04 @sparkleswonderland @elliesflower @muthafuckingstargirl @elliewilliamsissubermommyoml @eviestevie-14 @quicksilversg1rl @guacala @crtcrp @overtrred28 @sugarqueencosmos @iriswalrus @chiao1209 @lovecaraya @thatgiraffefromtlou @alwayslongingforyou @thelastofshimmer

[quokkaholic]

Confession and Cuffs s.c

Warnings/tags: suggestive fluff, cop hate lol, cussing duh, y/n aggressively flirty low key would be harassment irl. Lightly edited

Synopsis: You are a notorious criminal that is very familiar with your local police force. Detained on a faulty warrant and interrogated for hours, you give them nothing but sass and harsh criticism. That is, until you meet Detective Seo.

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●

You remain in the same sterile interrogation room you have been in for hours, stainless steel chair bruising your tailbone and digging into your spine. With an adjustable lamp clamped to the edge of the table turned off, the lighting is dim but you can still see the reflective surface of the one way glass opposite you. Even though you are alone, and have been for a while, there is no mistaking the feeling of eyes on you monitoring and examining your every move, every breath, every blink. You feel like it has been at least an hour since the last officer was in here with you demanding a confession to a crime you, for once, didn’t commit; even if you had, you’d never spill your guts to them. The only reason you are here now, is they arrested you under the guise of a warrant out for not paying a speeding ticket you received years ago as a teen. You know for a fact you paid it and got it expunged from your record, but it was so long ago you no longer have proof of the transaction. On top of that, it's a Friday night so the records department won’t be up and running again until Monday. These pigs orchestrated the whole thing to get you in their custody, and you aren’t even the perpetrator in this case.

Since your arrest, it has been a revolving door of officers trying different tactics on you. They’ve made offers of food and lenient sentencing. Tried to coerce you to sell out your compatriots. The last guy practically just screamed at you for half an hour, voice screeching and droplets of spit flying from his red hot face, trying to scare out a confession, but all you could do was laugh. He must be new, you thought, despite being a criminal, you have gotten to know and are on decent terms with a lot of the more reasonable officers. After having to release you on the grounds of no evidence countless times, many of them have accepted that your actions tend to only harm other members of the seedy underbelly of the city.

That is the case for most of the force, but obviously not the next officer that walks in. You can tell by his demeanor that he is going for bad cop as he saunters in with an expression of disgust and accusation when he looks your way. He avoids eye contact, maybe because he wants you to feel lowly and beneath him, but it's more likely he knows you will see through his ruse if he lets you meet his gaze.

“We know it was you” he spits flipping through a folder labeled evidence that is without a doubt filled with blank pages. While you usually give ambiguous answers or simply remain silent, you’re over messing with the investigators at this point,

“Hmmm no you dont” you hum out matter of factly

“Quiet! We’ve got you this time,” he must be really committed to the bit, raising his voice and ordering you around.

“Really? What dirt do you have on me? Go on. I wanna see.”

“It's in the evidence storage for the night,”

“You don’t have photos in that conveniently marked folder you've got? If I’ve told you dipshits once, I've told you 100 times,” you pause to squint at the name badge on his chest,

“Skinner, I’m not your guy” shouting back to get the attention of the people that are without a doubt recording, before leaning back in the chair that feels like a bed of nails at this point. Not allowing your discomfort to show, you continue,

“You're a bad liar, Skinner. If you had something real I'd have been arrested for a real charge and not some backhanded bureaucratic nonsense. I’m done talking” your statement punctuated by the crossing of your arms over your chest. The goose bumps on your skin are impossible to ignore; it's a damn icebox in here, another tactic to get you to admit to this crime you played no part in. Despite your refusal to engage, he went on accusing you and shouting garbage before stomping out like a frustrated child.

A while later, you are beginning to doze off with your head resting on the frozen table, but the sound of the locks being opened shakes you from your drowsiness. In walks a hunk not in the typical uniform. He’s got on a white button up that hugs his thick arms so perfectly accentuating his toned form and a black vest over it and pressed black dress pants with a key ring and badge clipped to the belt. You turn to the mirror and attempt the make eye contact with the people on the other side before blurting out,

“Oh so we’re doing sexy cop now? That's new,” before looking back at the man entering the room. He puckers his lips and presses his tongue to the inside of his cheek trying to fight back a smirk while dropping his file on the table across from you.

“I’m Detective Seo. I’ve been assigned to this case, and I just wanted to ask you a few questions” He says with confidence but politely as he pulls out the chair opposite to you and takes a seat.

“You and every other pig in this pen.” You say coldly before allowing your grimace to shift into a cheeky grin, “Don’t worry, I can kid around with them. We’re all close; I practically know them all by name” feigning sincerity in your tone.

“I bet you do” he lets the words slowly fall from his mouth as he mocks you for your seemingly endless unofficial record, opening the thick folder,

“I’ve checked out your file”

“Oooh a fan I assume?” you question, heightening your tone to speak more sweetly staring up at him through your lashes. He looms over you flicking on the table lamp. If he wasn’t so jaw droppingly handsome, you'd be irked by his attempt at asserting dominance over you. You like the look of him above you, but it ends all too soon as he pulls out the chair on the other side of the table and gracefully and controlled lowers himself into the seat drawing your gaze to his muscles straining against the fabric of his button down.

“You could say that,” he mumbles seemingly unimpassioned. His eyes skimming the papers in his hands,

“I can’t lie, I’m impressed. Life long career criminal and not a single conviction”

“I don’t know what this criminal nonsense you speak of is, but you're damn right, my record is as clean as a whistle. Well, I guess until today,” you aren’t trying to maintain an ere of innocence. Everyone here knows what you do for work, and you aren’t oblivious to that, but you’ll be dead before they get audio of some half ass admittance of guilt they can spin and manipulate to finally take you to court.

“We both know this charge is bullshit, and you’ll be set loose on Monday,” he nonchalantly muses and he peers over the top of the papers at you. His warm eyes would be mezmerizing in any other circumstance, but you have to remain sharp.

“You sound sad, babe. We’ll work hard to make the most of the time we have together,” you tease. Leaning forward to rest onto his elbows,

“I know I will,” he assures you then asks,

“So why did you do it?” he asks. You give an exaggerated disappointed huff before answering,

“So so handsome, but unfortunately just as dense as your mates,” clicking your tongue before continuing,

“Just as I told your last goon, and the one before that, and the one before that, and I’ll say it again just for you, babe, I. Didn’t. Do. It.” Holding unblinking eye contact you lean forward closing the distance between you, your voice becomes a cooing whisper as you go on,

“I don’t know how else to put it, love. Why can’t you understand me?” drawing up your eyebrows and slowly shaking your head to convey distress continuing to draw closer to him.

“My name is Detective Seo,” He mutters trying to correct you as he seems to struggle to keep his eyes from drinking in your approaching features.

“Oh I know, baby” whispering for only him to hear.

He has remained strong, not letting your seductress intimidation technique win out over his macho demeanor, but as you near only a foot of nose to nose separation he pushes back not only his upper body but his whole chair from the table causing a smug smile to spread across your features. His slight fluster is impossible to hide due to the pink rising to his cheeks and his lack of grace as he gathers his documents before heading to the door. Soon the feeling of watching eyes fall back over you, and you hope so deeply that they are his.

Despite the painful furniture and frigid temperature the only thing on your mind is Seo. He’s there when you’re awake being grilled by other cops or just staring at the damn wall, and when you get brief moments to rest, he's in your dreams.

You’ve long lost track of time in the windowless room, another way they are trying to disorient you to let your guard down. With some sweet talking, you convince them to allow you to use a private bathroom as opposed to the grimey stalls that the other detainees use. While you are lucky to be affording this luxury, you have ulterior motives. As your escort guides you through the hall passing cubicle after cubicle, you get a glimpse out the window. The light is dim and dusky; it must already be Saturday evening. Your romantic daydreams have done wonders for making time fly by. After a few turns down corridors, you see what you’ve been looking for, not the bathroom, a rich wooden door with a window covered neatly by a curtain, and just to the right a gleaming placard. Detective Seo Changbin. Such a pretty name for such a pretty man. You commit the path to his office to memory for potential future use.

They graciously let you rest for just a bit longer before starting up the interrogations again. Without fail you continue your typical slough of jesting and snarky comments without revealing any semblence of guilt, but unlike usual, there are some requests for the handsome detective sprinkled in. This continues late into the night and you can assume early into Sunday morning.

During a particularly kind session of questions, more like pleading on their part, you had just had a scrumptious meal hand delivered by your favorite officer; you are feeling generous. After some careful deliberation, you decide to throw them a bone but only on your terms.

“Bailey, you know me. You know I work alone and what little evidence you have points to a group of at least two. The fact that you guys won’t drop this line of questioning after hours of getting nowhere is making me question your sanity, lady,” you chide with a mouth full of food.

“I feel bad for you, hon. So bad, in fact, that I want to help you guys. I’ll share…” her face lights up as if what you're about to say will free her from this never ending game.

“But only to Seo” and her giddy face shifts to one of despair before one of determination as she rushes out the door pulling out her phone from her back pocket as the door slams behind her. Not an hour later, the man of your dreams is pushing open the thick door. Equally as confident as last time, but he has ditched the tough guy demeanour for a more flirtatious one to match your own.

“I heard you were begging for me all night” he humors with the corner of his full lips pulling up into a sly smile.

“Oh baby that wasn’t begging, that was negotiating, but I'll beg if that's what you want.”

He moves close, foregoing the chair and sitting on the edge of the table forcing you to tilt your head back to keep the steamy eye contact that makes a heat rise in your stomach. He sends you a wink and opens his mouth to speak, but you cut him off,

“Getting you here is only part of my request. I'll help you, but in exchange, I demand a date with you once I’m released”, his sultry look quickly shifts to a genuine smile and red cheeks as he breathily chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief,

“Before you go on about it being unprofessional, this is all just a big misunderstanding on record, babe. Remember, there was simply a glitch in the system that put out a warrant for my arrest. I am perfectly innocent. Actually, this is a massive mistake on your part and a major inconvenience to me. It truly is the least you could do”

“Oh really? I don't think innocent is the right word,” he leans down a bit, eyebrows raising knowingly.

“How about blameless? I'm just a blameless woman held hostage by a mismanaged police force, the least you could do is take me to dinner.” jokingly sticking out your lower lip to pout. He gives his best attempt at a disappointed sigh, but no matter how many times he attempts to release his tensing cheek muscles, they keep returning to a full smile.

“Fine, now who was it?”

“You think I’m that easy, Changbin?” pulling back clutching your imaginary pearls with one hand in faux shock,

“I'm not doing your job for you, plus I can't be on record selling out a coworker can I? Now, you promise me to take me out Monday after we clear up this silly clerical mistake, and I'll tell you where to look, you just have to trust me, yeah?” Caused by the name drop and your outlandish proposal, the shocked look on his face is genuine unlike yours.

“Trust you!?” he chokes out the question, but you just look back expectantly waiting on his response.

“I promise, y/n, to take you on a date this Monday” This the first time hes had a serious look in his face since he walked in.

“No take backs detective Seo” you warn. His flush brightens hearing you say his title for the first time after only calling him pet names.

“The old storage units on the west side of town”

“The owner? No way Mrs Lee had anything..”

“Let me finish!” you yelp, holding hand up to stop him.

“The owner of unit 87. Me and Mrs. Lee are actually members of the same book club, and I have it on good authority that the owner of that unit hasn’t paid his dues in three months”

“So he's the…” you once again interrupt him trying to jump to conclusions.

“No! I said I'm not doing this for you! However, your cute looks and eagerness make me want to help you extra. His kid has some unsavory affiliations, and they have been using said unit to store some… things. I'm not saying it's them, but what I am saying is the stuff you find there will lead you guys to the perp as long as one of you has even the barest minimum of reasoning skills. I know that can be few and far between in this line of work.” You just had to slip in that last jab, “Now, there's your in. You're welcome in advance, baby” He is a whirlwind running out the door, but before it shuts he shouts back to you

“See you tomorrow!”

They keep you in custody for the majority of Sunday, but no one enters to question you further. Only a few familiar officers pop in to chat or share a meal as you're finally able to drop the smug persona since Changbin is hard at work clearing your name. He returns to finally have a normal conversation with you and iron out the details of your date before your release. While it is policy to keep suspects cuffed on your way out the door, they usually never do, but Changbin insists. Both enjoying it a bit too much as he locks your wrists together before guiding you with a gentle hand on your shoulder. You stop before the main entrance of the station for him to remove your restraints. While your conversations have been respectful and polite ever since you gave the crucial information in solving the case, his smirk resurfaces as he twists the key.

“If you behave for me, maybe I’ll bring these tomorrow night.”

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●

A.n- I can’t be anti authoritarian; one of my best friends is a cop! Thanks for reading! I felt particularly delulu writing this one. Wanted to name this ‘If you’re bad cop, and I’m good cop, who is sexy cop?’. Also, what the hell else do you call a smirk? Lots of smirking in this one. I can only alternate bt smile, smirk, and grin so much before I start feeling silly

-mo (acab)

Masterlist

[hiyashortking]

You Catch Lucifer Masturbating

Disclaimers and credit: read this post before reading any of my content, please.

Premise: Inspired by @venomhound's prompt list found here for the prompt: you catch them masturbating. My tenses are all fucked up in this one and I've chosen not to edit it to make sure it all matches ✌️.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He’d forgotten that he asked you to stop by when you had a moment this week to drop off some bullshit he didn’t actually care about. He was just looking for an excuse to see you again, especially against the backdrop of his room. But depression and trauma do some fucked up shit to one’s brain because he forgot this scheme and left his door unlocked, and you came wandering in when he had his cock in his hand and your panties on his face.

How did he get your panties? A story for another time …

On the bright side, he temporarily cured himself of his desperate want to be around you. If someone had told him last month that he’d be actively avoiding you and would actually go back to his old place to get away from you, he would have put money on it. Unless it was Husk, of course. He was bordering on being obsessed with you, so desperate for just a glance at your face most days. And now? Hiding in shame.

The King of Hell, hiding from a simple little undead. It would be laughable if it wasn’t so pathetic.

You knocked on his door.

Like the true diva he was, he was in his bed eating ice cream and chocolates, surrounded by the fluffiest of his duckies. The only thing he’d managed to get out of bed for every day was his long, hot as fuck shower, during which he would not allow himself to stroke his cock. Punishment was something Lucifer had been taught well, and now he was enacting it on himself.

You knocked again.

He cleared his throat. A “who is it” came out with a squeak, which made him clear his throat and ask again in a tone with more authority.

“Hey, it’s me. I will never not knock again, I promise.”

How could you even joke about this?

W-wait, it was YOU at the door?

He jumped out of bed and fumbled around, trying to make his room look cleaner. He opened the window for fresh air, but the air of hell wasn’t fresh at all so he’d closed it again.

“I hope it’s okay, Charlie let me into the palace."

“Y-yes, of course. I’ll be right there. Is-is Charlie with you?” Where were his clothes? He wore the same fucking outfit every day for millennia, one would think it would be easy to get quickly dressed. The closet! Of course, that’s where clothes would be!

“She and Vaggie are downstairs. I didn’t tell her what happened but she got worried when she called you and you didn’t pick up. She said you’d done that in the past but that you’d been really attentive to her lately so she wanted to make sure you were okay …”

Running a hand through his hair, he opened the door and leaned with the other hand on the doorframe, trying to obscure your vision of his bedroom. He looked as gorgeous as always. Since you hadn’t seen him in a while, his smile seemed even prettier today. His hair looked so soft, you wanted to reach out and run your own fingers through it. He smelled amazing. Why hadn’t you ever realized how form-fitting his clothes were? You felt as if you were seeing him for the first time.

“Hey, bitch,” he says, and immediately regrets it. But his smile only falters for a second.

You chuckle. He always makes you smile and laugh like a fool. “Well, you seem to be doing just fine! I don’t know why Charlie and I were so worried!”

He imitates your chuckle and tries to push away memories of why he is avoiding you. But wait- shouldn’t he be apologizing? His smile disappears when his thoughts race of what you must have thought and how he probably made you feel and-

“Y/N, I am so, so, so, sososososo sorry,” he lets out, almost as if his body deflates with each sound. His tail is out and literally between his legs.

“It’s o-”

He steps toward you abruptly and closes his door behind him. “Let’s sit down,” he takes your hand absent-mindedly as he focuses on which room to bring you into. Not his office. Not the librar- maybe the library? Didn’t you love reading? Maybe he could distract you with all the books!

He only realizes he is holding your hand when you’re at the center of one of his smallest, coziest libraries. “Oh fuck, oh shit, I’m so sorry I didn’t realize-”

“Lucifer, stop!” You plead.

He takes a deep, sharp inhale, his face awake with surprise, holds the breath, and releases it slowly, tilting his head up and relaxing his shoulders as he does.

“Thank you,” you say in unison, and then grin like the fools you both are.

“Please sit down,” he says as he does the same on the sofa across from yours. “May I get you something to drink?”

You noticed there were servants downstairs who were catering to the princess and her partner but who did not follow you up to the second floor.

“I’m just happy to see you, I’ve been struggling to think about anything else since you left.”

You’d been thinking about him since he left? He’d been gone for weeks!

“I’m so sorry to have worried you. As you can see, I am fine and dandy. Well- not entirely dandy, I’m obviously very much attracted to all the genders- I mean-”

Fuck, you missed him. One second the picture of elegance, and the next tripping over his words. When you caught him stroking his cock, with your used underwear on his face, you let yourself lean into all of the thoughts you hadn’t allowed when you assumed it would be impossible to be on his radar. And then he had the audacity to disappear, leaving you alone with just your fantasies.

Though you called him several times, you did doubt the situation you had seen. He was the King of Hell! Why would he be interested in you, all of being in hell? Maybe he just had a panty fetish and it didn’t mean anything that they were yours. Did this feel personal because it was, or because you desperately wanted it to be?

Wait, what was he saying?

“I’m so sorry to have worried you. As you can see, I am fine and dandy. Well- not entirely dandy, I’m obviously very much attracted to all the genders- I mean- wait- is dandy still an insinuation of being gay? Was it ever? Anyway, I’m not fully gay! Obviously! I mean-”

He was so fucking cute. You could listen to him ramble all day. “I honestly didn’t think you were going to see me, so I didn’t think about what I would say if you did. I’m just really happy to see you. I’m sorry I didn’t think this through more. I just want to be in the same room as you again.”

It wasn’t difficult to stun this man into a moment of silence, but the silence rarely lasted. He cleared his throat. “I, uh, I wanted to give you some space. I am obviously deeply apologetic for my behavior.” 

Was he struggling to look at you? Is the most powerful man in all of hell blushing and avoiding your eyes? Fuck, why was this turning you on?

“Please tell me if there is anything, anything in all of Hell I can do to gain your forgiveness. I will, of course, entirely understand if it would be impossible for you to forgive me, but I would be doing myself a disservice if I didn’t at least ask.”

“Luci, may we be blunt?”

He nodded.

“What exactly do you want me to forgive you for?”

What? What exactly? For being a creepy, rude, disrespectful, vile, impish-

“I think I want some clarity about why you think I’m upset with you,” you added.

“Well, you- … I- ... wasn’t what I did bad?”

“Bad?”

He hated how the thoughts I’ve been a bad boy intruded into his mind, but here he fucking was again, with his fucking trauma getting in the way of a new relationship, not to mention how fucking cliche. Wait- a possible relationship? You were here, seeking him out, confessing to thinking about him, not being mad at him for crossing boundaries, maybe not even wanting those boundaries to begin with? Was he letting some fucked up negative core belief about being "bad", whatever the fuck that meant, ruin something he could have with you?

“Oh, Luci,” you rose from your spot and kneeled in front of him as you would if you wanted to help a child feel less intimidated. “Can we just forget this happened? Maybe not all of it, because it led me to assuming I might have a chance with you. So, I guess, let’s maybe just keep the part where you might be attracted to me, and forget any other misconceptions?”

“A chance with me?”

You nodded and waited patiently for him to process.

“You would want a chance with me?”

You nod again, smiling. Waiting.

How had he only then realized you were on your knees in front of him?

He slid from the couch to join you on the floor, and scooped you up with ease to settle you sideways in his lap. He couldn’t think of you on your knees just then.

He felt welcomed by you, but realized that wasn’t consent. “Is this okay?” he asked.

“Yes, Luci, you can touch me anytime you like and you can touch any part of me you’d like to touch. I love, love, love being touched,” you emphasized. "Is it okay if I touch you, too?" you asked him.

Baffled, he nodded. "Yes. My word! Yes, enthusiastically! Yes, please!"

Did this grown ass man just quiver?

Oh shit, were you feeling him getting hard?

You seemed to share a brain cell in that moment because he apologized again, his arms loosely around you. “I haven’t- … done what you’d seen me doing- … since that day, so my body is-”

Whenever he got shy and apologetic, you wanted to respond with nurturing, but this time a second feeling won over and you laughed and hid your face in his neck.

“Lucifer Morningstar, you were so upset that I might think the King of Hell is immoral that you haven’t come in weeks?” The ridiculousness was too much to bear. Fuck, and he smelled amazing. You let yourself nuzzle into him, enjoying the feeling of his flesh. Did he have flesh? What were y’all made of down here? You rubbed your nose gently against his neck, enjoying how even the slightest touch connected you.

“That is correct,” was almost the truth, as he did not take responsibility for the things his body did while he was sleeping.

He let himself lean against the sofa a bit, enjoying you snuggling against him. He closed his eyes and tried his best to relax. Breathe in, hold, breathe out. Breathe in-

“You amusing, wonderful little fool,” you whispered, and when you did your lips brushed against his neck, and you were certain then that he had shivered.

You were not making it easy for him to settle down. You often wondered how he managed to go from tense to relaxed and then back to tense so easily. And these were his reactions when you were on your best behavior. How would he respond if you intentionally teased him? Shhh, brain, not now, you pleaded with yourself.

“Not everything about me is little,” he said back with some confidence.

“I know, remember?” You move your head to see his face. Fuck, you weren’t supposed to bully him! The man was vulnerable! Could you just chill for today?!

“Ugh!” he groaned. Had he been blushing before that remark, or was it only just now?

Seeing your smile helped ease him again and he wondered aloud, “maybe I need to walk in on you touching yourself thinking about me, so we can be even?”

“That would be challenging since I don’t really masturbate.”

“You don’t mas- what?”

“I prefer fucking.”

“You prefer fucking?”

“Yes, or being pleasured by someone else. I must just not be good at it or something, I’m not a big fan of solo play.”

“You’re not-”

“Are you just going to repeat everything I say?” You chuckle, realizing you’d been obliviously playing with his hair. You had the fingers of one hand at the back of his head, tugging gently and releasing, while the other battled with his hair's softness in the front, refusing to stay put where you'd wanted it to be.

“I might just, until something you say doesn’t wildly surprise me.”

You take pride in being able to surprise someone who came into existence at the beginning of time.

You’re also glad he positioned you this way in his lap, so you could more easily hide how wet this exchange was making you. What the fuck was your kink, powerful men being vulnerable? You couldn’t have just been into feet or something? Great, now there was an image of Lucifer kissing your feet in your brain. In boots. That he bought for you. With his endless hell currency. Fuck.

“I guess I’ll have to abstain a little longer," he mused. "Because now all I want is to turn you on so much that you can’t stop touching yourself.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

[gracieheartspedro]

Crave

Part 3 of "How Long"

pairing: f!reader x brother-in-law!joel miller

find part 1 and 2 here!

dedication: @jenispunk <3 I love you sm jen. thank you for always supporting my writing and being the best wife a girl could ever dream of. you make my heart so happy. thank you for helping me edit and being the first to read this and encouraging me no matter what! love you love you love you!!!

description: a weekend escape with joel and sarah, kinda. the bed situation is a little confusing. luckily you and joel make it work. when sarah's not around, of course.

word count: 5.5k

warnings: MINORS DNI! this is 18+, pre!outbreak joel, there is smut in this part!! unprotected p in v, oral sex (f receiving), joel is a CONSENT KING AGAIN, dirty talk, daddy kink (aha), hotel sex?, begging? lmao I think that's it.

author's note: finally. it's here. I feel like I've been staring at this doc for 7 years. thank you all for your patience. I want to continue this series but I have to sit down and really brainstorm what I'd like the next parts to be. let me know your thoughts! THANK YOU FOR READING!

“My favorite Millers!” 

Your face was beaming, seeing Joel hop out of his truck with Sarah in tow. The truck was still running, the diesel engine chugging louder than any truck you had been in before. Joel always had a nicer, newer truck. He made great money and he was always having to go into construction zones that needed an all terrain vehicle. They always got pretty banged up with dirt and rocks, but he took excellent care of the interior. 

Joel grabs both of your bags, taking them to the backseat where Sarah would be crammed in with all the luggage. You give him a nod, silently thanking him. Sarah wraps her arms around your waist, giggling with excitement. 

“I’m so happy you’re coming with us! It’s going to be a great weekend,” She explains while you two walk over to the tall truck. You always found climbing into a truck unnatural and awkward yourself, but it was hot watching Joel hop in with ease. You agree with Sarah, all the while opening up the door for yourself. Sarah springs up to her seat, and you struggle to crawl up into the cab. It makes Joel chuckle. 

“I’m making you lift me into this thing next time,” you joke, easing back into the fabric seats, “Especially since you think watching me struggle is funny.”

Joel looks back in the rear view to see if Sarah’s paying attention, “‘s no problem at all, darlin’. I will gladly help you next time.”

You knew he was flirting. It makes your stomach bubble with excitement. He makes sure you two are buckled and starts on the two and half hour journey to Houston. Once you leave your neighborhood, Sarah taps your shoulder and holds out her new CD player. It’s purple and covered in sparkly stickers. 

“Looks like your Dad is supplying you with all the ways to listen to music,” you observe, glancing over at Joel. He’s just watching the road, one hand on the steering wheel, the other propped up on the shifter. He looks younger, the dusk sky the perfect back drop for his pronounced nose and beautiful eyelashes. You couldn’t help but stare, even as Sarah’s talking your ear off. He just nods along to her, making sure she knows she’s heard. 

“Think I’m gonna listen to my Kelly Clarkson CD this time,” Sarah explains, putting her earphones over her voluminous curls, “So don’t try to talk to me!”

You and Joel giggle, shaking your heads at her comment. It’s not like you were the one’s talking before, you both think. 

It gives you both a moment without a kid’s ears nearby. 

“How was the rest of your work week?” He asks, tapping the shifter to the soft hum of the radio.

“Boring,” You mumble, “Think one of the guys in marketing has a crush on me and he’s making it impossible to avoid him. I can’t even go to the break room without him bothering me.”

You didn’t know why you felt the urge to tell Joel about the situation. It wasn’t even a real situation, it was just an annoying thing happening in your life.

“Hmph,” he ponders for a moment, “Want me to kill him?”

His tone is serious, but you know he’s just messing. You grin, nudging his arm with your elbow gently, ensuring it doesn’t move the steering wheel. 

“My hero,” You comment as you watch a smile crack across his face, “No, thank you, though. If it starts to get to stalker status, I will call you.”

“Seems like stalkin’ already, baby girl.”

The nickname makes your stomach flip. You purse your lips, contemplating his words. Sure it was creepy, but the guy was scrawny and you could probably snap him in half with two fingers. He had nothing to really worry about. Right?

Joel steals a glance over at you. 

“Maybe, but I’ll handle it.”

You wanted him to think you were strong enough to deal with unwanted attention, but to be honest, you weren’t sure how to say no to most men. You only ever had Tommy and he scared everyone away. Now everyone around town knew you were on the market, and men were drawn to your natural beauty and somewhat sassy attitude. 

Little did they know, you were hung up on the other Miller boy. 

“You let me know if you need me to talk to him,” He doesn’t take his eyes off the road, just reaches his right hand out to rest on your thigh, “Man to man.”

His hand is so warm, you feel it through your black leggings. He was almost always like a furnace, but it was okay, because you always ran cold. But every time he touched you, you felt that warmth trail up your arms and legs. He made you feel different. Every fiber of your being became electrified when he was around. It was a sensation you never noticed when you were with Tommy. You begin chalking it up to just being nervous because he was older and larger and… well, hotter. 

“Again, my hero,” you respond sarcastically, letting your hand rest on top of his. It makes him more confident, gently massaging that area. You watch as his hand creeps closer and closer to the crack between your legs. You practically gasp at the contact, but you catch yourself before you do, remembering there’s a child behind you. 

So you smack his hand away, shooting him a glare. 

“What are you doing?”

“Nothin’ just… sorry.”

You didn’t want him to pull away, your leg already missing his touch, but you knew what would happen if you did stuff like that in front of Sarah. She’s a teenage girl. She’ll talk. It’ll find it’s way to someone’s ears. 

You wanted to act like you didn’t care if Tommy found out, but deep down you knew it would be a disaster. You didn’t feel like being the talk of the town. You didn’t feel like explaining yourself to Tommy. You didn’t feel like watching Joel deal with the flack from his family, especially his mother. 

If you two wanted to continue this… game… you would have to keep it secret. That included keeping it away from Sarah’s eyes and ears. You and Joel would just be friends. You would just be her aunt. That’s it. 

“Don’t apologize,” You whisper, “Just not here.”

You two let the radio take over the rest of the trip, occasionally chatting about a song or what the newscaster says about the weather. Once you get into Houston, it’s already 8:30 at night. Joel pulls into the parking garage to the Marriot and you already start craving the bed that awaits you inside. 

-

“I call the bed near the window!” Sarah throws her stuff down, jumping straight onto one the huge queen size duvet. The room was nice. A large television set catches your eye immediately, proving that this was probably an expensive room if they were giving you free cable tv. The curtains were open, giving a beautiful view of Houston’s skyline. 

One thing you notice, too, is the fact that there was only two beds. You knew this, but it still made your stomach sink a bit. 

You realize you three hadn’t discussed the sleeping situation. You didn’t care where you would sleep, honestly. You just knew Sarah was a restless one, having slept next to her in a tent when she was 9. Family camping trips entailed you, Tommy, Joel, and Sarah sharing a 6 person tent and being absolutely miserable the whole entire time. Between Tommy’s snores and Sarah practically flailing all around the tent at night, you remember not getting a lick of sleep. 

“Go get a shower, Sarah. We will figure out who’s sleeping where.”

She groans at Joel, like usual. 

“Dad!”

“Shower,” he throws his bag down on the ground near the dresser, “No arguin’.”

Sarah sulks, her bag in hand, straight to the bathroom by the front door. You don’t say anything. You just start following Joel’s lead by putting your bags down next to his. You stand a bit too close to him, waiting for him to say where you’d be sleeping.  

He clears his throat, “I will take the recliner, if you want the bed.”

“Of course I want the bed, but I don’t want you to have to sleep in the recliner.”

It makes him laugh, how matter-of-fact you are. 

You hear Sarah start up the shower. You wouldn’t have to fear she hears you and Joel talk about the possibility of sleeping with one another. Again.

“It’s not a big deal,” He explains, unzipping his bags to grab his pajamas, “Sleep on the couch all the time.”

“But you have a nice plush couch,” You gesture towards the hard and structured looking recliner, “That doesn’t look comfortable at all.”

For a girl who didn’t want Joel touching you in the car, you were practically begging him to sleep next to you in the big comfortable hotel bed. 

“So, where do you want me to sleep?”

“Just take the bed.”

“But you want the bed.”

You swallow, not even looking up at him, “We both can have the bed.”

He’s silent, gripping onto his sweatpants and t-shirt. He slowly looks down at you, his eyes carry a curious glint in them. You cock your head, giving him a mischievous smirk.

“You and Sarah?”

“No, you and Sarah.”

He groans, “You are a fuckin’ tease.”

You giggle, watching him brush pass you to position himself close to the closet. He opens the closet door, slipping in like he’s looking for something in there. 

“What are you doing?”

“Changin’.”

“In the closet?”

He grabs his shirt from the nape of his neck and pulls it off smoothly. You can’t peel your eyes away, partially seeing his right peck from how he’s standing. It was like the morning after having sex with him. Your eyes were glued to him, his tanned skin practically asking to be touched and licked. 

You horny bitch. 

“Joel, get out of the closet.”

He chuckles, “Why? You want me to give you a show?”

Why yes, I really do, Joel. You think to yourself. You hum a response, peeling your eyes away. You needed to find your pajamas, a pair of Nike sports shorts and a black tank top. Lately, you’ve been sleeping completely naked, but that was obviously not an option here. 

Sarah finally leaves the bathroom as soon as Joel slides his pants up. She has her hair wrapped in a towel, which makes you smile. She looked so grown up, it’s hard to believe you met her when she was 6 years old. You wordlessly walk into the bathroom, beginning to change your outfit for your sleep wear. You splash some cold water on your face, your cheeks still blushed from seeing Joel shirtless. 

You hear the door outside open and close. You peak out, your traveling clothes wrapped up in your arms. Joel stands in the middle of the room, fiddling with the remote for the TV. 

“Where did Sarah go?” You question, packing your clothes back into your duffle. 

“She wanted to go get ice from the ice machine,” He grumbles, “Said she wanted to see if any of her teammates were awake or nearby.”

“Is her whole team staying here?”

“Yeah, pretty much every team gets a floor. Last year it was a like a huge sleepover. Fuckin’ nightmare,” Joel mutters, flicking through different channels, before landing on some westerns. You smirk, deciding to plop down on one of the beds. As soon as you lay back, Sarah comes back in, bucket in hand. 

“Can I go stay in Amelia’s room? Her mom is there, just two doors down.”

Well that solves the bed problem. 

Joel rolls his eyes, you can tell he’s already annoyed. “Is Amelia’s mom okay with that?”

“You want to go talk to her? I promise Dad, we will get up at 5:30 like we need to. Pleas-”

“Let’s go talk to Amelia’s mom.”

You hear them leave the room without saying anything else. 

You were tired from a long day at work and the long drive. But some excitement blooms in your stomach when you realize it may just be you and Joel, all alone in a hotel room. 

Before you have time to ponder all the wonders that may be in store for you, Joel comes back with a frustrated huff. 

“She staying over there?”

“Yeah, Amelia’s mom said it was fine. Then she started askin’ who you were. Guess they saw us in the hotel lobby.”

Your stomach twists, nervous at what his response was.

“And?”

“Told her you were Sarah’s aunt. She gave me a weird look.”

“Great, now the soccer mom’s will be oogling me tomorrow.”

“Well they will anyway,” Joel responds, finding a spot next to you on the edge of the bed, “Single ones won’t leave me alone.” 

You know he’s really just seeing if you’ll get jealous. But you don’t play into his little game. You just let out a loud hearty laugh. 

“The ladies just love a Miller.”

He grumbles something inaudible, nudging you with his elbow. “You do, don’t ya?”

“Sure do.”

His face softens, his eyes flicking down to your lips. 

You grin, “She’s 14 and super goofy. Loves to play socc-”

“You’re truly testin’ me today, ain’t ya?”

You can’t help yourself at that point. The way he’s flirting only gives you more reason to taunt him. 

“Is Sarah seriously going to be gone from the room all night?”

“Yeah,” He nods, leaning back on his palms. He acts like he’s watching TV, ignoring your not-so-subtle hints that you want his eyes on you. 

“So, I can finally ask you why you think it’s okay to tease me in the car?”

“Don’t know what you’re on about, darlin’,” He smirks, he knows.

You tilt your head to the side, finally lifting your hand onto his lap. You immediately start toying with him the same way, your hand creeping towards his crotch. His eyes peel away from the TV. He watches you closely, his eyes trailing from your gaze down to your fingers dancing on his pant leg. 

“You put your hand on my thigh and started inching closer and cl-“

“Are you tryin’ to make a point or pose a question?”

He was getting annoyed with the games already. But you’d only just begun. 

“I’m just trying to explain how you can’t do things like that to me in front of Sarah,” You remark, flicking your eyelashes up to his glare, “Especially when you can’t finish it.”

“Who said I ain’t gonna?”

You huff, “Well here we are, all alone in a hotel room. No kiddo in sight. Still not touching me.”

“Don’t think you deserve it cause you’re a tease.”

“How am I a tease, Miller?”

“You exist and that’s enough. Walkin’ around in a tank top,” He gestures to your chest, “Just beggin’ to be touched.”

Your skin is set alight. The words go straight to your core. 

“Joel-“

You’re cut off. His hands work quickly, pulling you by the nape of your neck, right to his eager lips. You begin to realize you had been longing for this moment for so long. He couldn’t resist anymore, his whole body buzzing at the fact that he finally has you again. 

His lips are soft and slow as they make their way around yours. His hands eventually trail down to your butt, his hands cradling both cheeks. He lifts you forward, sliding you up and onto his lap. 

“Been wantin’ this for months, baby.” 

Butterflies erupt in the pit of your tummy. You can feel them travel up to your chest as you look down at him, his eyelids heavy and his lips pursed.  

He waited for you to respond to his calls, knowing you needed time. He needed to be patient. You would come around, he knew it. After months, here you are. 

He thinks back to every time he was touching himself late at night, he would imagine the night you two shared. Your soft curves and needy dripping pussy. It drove him wild imagining you like this again. 

“I think it’s been more than wantin’, Joel,” You grind down on his prominent bulge growing in his sweatpants, “Think you need it.”

He grins, finally getting out of his own head.

“Such a little tease, damn it.”

You lean down, mindlessly speckling kisses behind his ear and neck. Your boobs rest right in front of his face, and you’re right, he needs it. His hands leave your behind, reaching up to the straps of your tank top. He tugs them down your biceps, allowing your cleavage to spill out more. 

Your hands find his dark peppered curls at the nape of his neck, pulling downward. You needed him closer and he obliged. He starts to kiss your collarbones, wandering down to the swell of your breasts. You can feel yourself staining your sports shorts with anticipation. 

You rock your hips, craving more. He takes the hint, reaching back down to lift you from your ass. He switches spots, laying you on your back on the plush white duvet. He’s leaning over you now, which gives you a great view of how spent he looks already. His gray sweatpants are hanging lower, tenting where his cock has grown hard. 

He smirks, taking off his shirt the same way he did earlier. With one hand, it slips right over his head and onto the floor. 

“Jesus,” You huff out, using the time to remove your top, “I need you, Joel.”

The smirk never leaves his lips. He leans down, pushing your legs apart with his pointer and middle finger. You open up for him, wanting nothing more for him to dive into you in every possible way. You watch as he slides his fingers up your thigh, past the openings of your shorts. 

He realizes you aren’t wearing underwear. He sighs as he swipes the pads of his fingers across your wet slit. 

“I know you do,” He drawls, watching you writhe under his touch, “You need me as much as I need you.”

He practically tears off your shorts, not wasting any time fighting with the fabric. 

You adjust how your laying to accommodate him laying between your thighs. He lays down on his stomach, bringing your hips close to his mouth. You watch as he kisses your inner thighs, his breath hot fanning against your skin. 

You remember the last time you were in this position. You spent night after night remembering the best head you’ve ever gotten, from the one and only, Joel Miller. And you could tell Joel was not going to go another moment without making you cum on his tongue. 

When his tongue hits the top of your slit, you whine at the contact. He presses his face in, diving deeping into your lips. As soon as he finds your clit, he puts all his attention there. His nose is pressed against your mound as he hums against your sensitive bud. 

“Joel,” You cry, reaching down between your legs to grab the crown of his head, your hands lacing into his locks, “Right fuckin’ there.”

He continues his movements, only increasing in speed in which he flicks his tongue. He wraps his lips over the swollen area, sucking and lapping your sweetness. He pulls away, the slick between your thighs missing him instantly. He brings his fingers up to his mouth and wets them with saliva. He glances up at your completely dazed face. 

“‘M gonna fuck you with my fingers first,” His voice is deep and hushed, “Make you cum. You gonna cum for me like a good girl?”

You don’t even know where it comes from. But you say it with your chest.

“Yes, Daddy.”

You never expected the moan to come out of his mouth. It’s deep and guttural. He couldn’t believe his ears, and he can’t believe the words came from your mouth. His good girl? That fuckin’ flithy?

He slips his fingers into you without resistance. His mouth finds it’s way back to your core, fucking you in unison. 

You reach up to your chest, cradling your own boobs. Joel’s still only in sweatpants but they are riding low on his hips. As he’s giving you his all, he’s grinding his hips into the bed, trying to get whatever friction he can. Watching the motion alone is driving you wild, sending your hips rotating on his tongue. You knew the release was coming, you could feel it in your fingertips. 

And when it comes, it’s like fireworks inside your stomach and chest. You lurch forward, crying out his name. You knew it was probably way too loud for the thin hotel walls, but you couldn’t help yourself. The orgasm sends stars speckling across your vision. 

Joel fucks you through the comedown. You are the hottest thing he’s ever laid eyes on, he thinks. When your body rests back, you’re panting, trying to ground yourself for a second. Joel pulls his fingers out and sucks each digit. 

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” You mewl, reaching out for him. You just need to touch him. 

He shimmies his sweatpants down and off his legs. He’s sitting back on his knees, smiling down at your desperate eyes. He crawls on top of you, his dick prodding at your thighs. He leans down, trapping your lips into another longing kiss. His hands trail down your sides, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He pulls back after a couple seconds, gazing into your eyes. 

“You still on that birth control?”

You hum in response. 

“Need me to pull out still?”

You smirk, lacing your arms around his shoulders, “No. Need you to cum inside me.”

He shakes his head, sitting back to line himself with your entrance.

“My dirty girl,” He runs his cock head between your swollen red lips, triggering your hips to move closer to him, “You drive me insane.”

“Come on, Joel. I’ve been waiting for ages for you to fuck me. Need you. Now.”

He chuckles darkly, still not giving you what you want. “Waiting ages, huh?”

“Joelllll,” You beg, smacking his chest, “Please.”

“Mmm,” He pushes forward just enough to relieve your ache, “Love it when you beg for it.”

He practically splits you open when he snaps his hips. You both groan simultaneously, unable to hold back this sick fantasy you’re both playing into. You feel more full than you ever did before. You don’t remember it hurting this good. 

“Holy fuck,” you whine, “So fucking full, Joel.”

He slowly pulls back, “You tell me if it’s too much, ‘kay?”

You shake your head, throwing your head back as he sets a cautious pace. He’s watching all your facial expressions, making sure he’s not hurting you. You wince when he starts to pick up the pace, which causes him to halt completely. 

“No,” You plead, “More. Faster. Please, just please.”

He says nothing, just pushes up your thighs so the back of them are flush with the front of his. He leans over you, his elbows on each side of your head. He grinds into you while his dark curls fall into your face. You tilt your head up, finding the crook of his neck again. 

His cock felt so good dragging in out of you. You felt like you could stay in this position forever. You molded so perfectly around him. He treated you like this beautiful mural, taking his time with delicate strokes. His hands wrapped around the back of your head, holding you in the curve of his body.

You latch your lips onto his neck, peppering lovebites everywhere. You didn’t even think about if they could be seen later. In the moment, you only thought of him as yours. He was yours and everyone would fucking know it. 

He’s starting to get more greedy. He pulls back, his warmth moving away from your perked up nipples. His upper body the best view you could get, so you couldn’t complain too much. He grabs behind your knees, using them as leverage as he starts to pound into you. 

Your eyes meet and for fuck’s sake, he’s perfect. You never knew you could see Joel Miller like this. Like someone who fucked you so good, but also cared so tenderly for you. He wanted to see you in the throws of pleasure, not even worrying about when he’d get his rocks off. He got his rise out of seeing how much you enjoyed yourself.

His ravenous drive to bring you to the edge is causing the headboard to slam against the wall which each stroke. He brings his left hand up to your bouncing tits, grabbing your nipple and tugging on it. He knew what touching your boobs did to you. He remembers watching your visceral reactions to him toying with them before. It brings a smile to his face. 

“I’m gonna-”

You don’t even finish your sentence, you just gasp as you feel his cock head hit the deepest parts of you. A place no other man has made it to. 

“I don’t want anyone else,” He musters out, his teeth clenching as your pussy restricts around him. He means it. He may be drunk on you, but he feels those words down to his bones. “I only ever want this.”

It was never just about the sex. Joel cared for you. Fuck, maybe he even loved you. 

You swallow, propping yourself up on your elbows. You glance down, watching his cock slip so perfectly, in and out of you. 

“I’m yours, Joel,” You manage to peep out before the orgasm you’ve been holding back builds to a maddening point, “I’m yours.”

The words make his cock twitch. He can’t help himself, he needs you to cum right this very moment. He doesn’t say anything, just unhooks your legs and uses his right hand to put pressure on your clit. Tears start to prick in your eyes as he lazily rubs circles, humming in satisfaction. He feels you tightening up, he knows your close. 

Your vision goes white. You body starts to vibrate, the pure bliss he’s sending you into takes you to a whole other dimension. You want more. More. More. More. 

As he watches you seize up, he can’t resist his own orgasm. The explosion sends him into a moaning mess. He fucks into you, painting your walls with his cum, not letting a drop go to waste. 

He collapses on top of you. You don’t even care, you feel like jello anyway, he could melt right into you.

He rolls off after a minute. 

You always miss him when he’s not near you. 

You stare at the ceiling, pondering the right words to say to him. Nothing comes to mind. He gets up, walking naked to the bathroom. He grabs a rag from the shelf above the toilet, running it under some warm water. 

When he returns, you let him clean all around your body. You make sure he doesn’t wipe away the wet kisses he left all over you, though. 

“You okay?”

You finally look at him. 

You want to say yes, because you were okay. Physically. But your heart wanted to pulsate out of your chest. 

“I will be,” You state simply, “Just tired.”

He slowly starts grabbing all your articles of clothing off the floor, dressing you once he collects all of them. He’s careful with you. Gentle. 

“Do you want to sleep in the same bed?”

The question rings in your ears. Of course you did. 

“As long as you get up at the ass crack of dawn and move before Sarah comes in.”

He chuckles, pulling his sweatpants back over his waist. He doesn’t even bother to put on his shirt.

“Will do, baby.”

-

When you wake up, you realize the overheard light flickered on. You contort your sleep dazed body, Joel’s upper body practically laying over you. You try to blink the haze out of your eyes, but your tired mind is completely shocked when you see an outline of a girl. 

Shitshitshitshitshit.

You fling your body upward, rattling Joel awake. He’s startled, his arms flinging off of you. 

“I knew it!” Her voice is piercing. “I knew it! Holy shit!”

“Sar-”

“Are you two dating? Or are you just… wait, ew!”

She’s rambling, her words clashing together in confusion. Your heart is about to hammer out of your chest. 

“Sarah, we aren’t dating,” You declare, your voice shaking. 

“But you’re sleeping together?”

You could cut the silence with a sword. It’s so thick and awkward. 

A 14 year old girl shouldn’t know you’re sleeping with her Dad. Let alone walk in after you spent all night tangled up in him. 

“Sarah,” Joel’s voice is buttery and raspy after he wakes up. You hold the comforter up to your chest. You had your tank top on, but it hangs so low on you, you don’t want to risk anything. “Grab your uniform, get dressed. We can talk about this later.”

“Does Uncle To-”

“Sarah! Stop!”

It scares you since it’s so close to your ear. His voice changes so abruptly, it makes you cringe a bit. 

Hearing the question from Sarah’s lips makes you feel queasy. Having the girl who you always considered your niece ask if her uncle knew you were sleeping with her dad... God what a fucking mess. 

You watch her storm across the room, grabbing her backpack and race to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. 

Joel groans next to you as he slams back into the plush pillows. 

“She will be fine. We will talk about it later,” Joel says under his breath. 

You open your mouth but nothing comes out. 

You hadn’t thought much of this through. Ever since you and Joel first slept together, you pushed your harbored feelings to the side. Sometimes they creep in, which would send you into a panic. Because deep down, you knew you felt something for Joel. Something you hadn’t felt since you first started dating Tommy. Maybe even ever. It was exciting. He made you feel special. After everything he said to you last night, you knew he possessed some similar emotions and feelings.  

You felt crazy for believing this could work. 

You knew this would be complicated. Now Sarah is involved. How do you explain these emotions to a child? You don’t. 

You think about all the horrible outcomes to this situation. Tommy wanting to fight Joel. His mom never accepting you back into the family. Who knows, maybe Sarah gets so upset at the situation, she never treats you the same again. 

But then you think about Joel. How he’s a night and day difference to what Tommy was to you. He wore his emotions on his sleeve. He wanted to protect you. He wanted to take care of you every chance he could. 

You start to think back to the times when you were still with Tommy. Joel defended you when you two had a blowout fight. He always made sure to have a watchful eye on you when you all went out to bars. He was even there when you graduated college, giving you a bouquet of beautiful daises he swore up and down Sarah picked out. But you knew the truth. Joel loved daisies. He even had his Mom plant some in his front yard last year. 

You were just so scared. You didn’t want to be hurt again. You did not want your feelings to be wrong. 

You glance down at him, your back still turned. He could read your face, he knew you were overthinking everything. Your mind was working overtime, trying to muster up some excuse to run away and forget everything that happened between you two. There was nothing normal about this situation. 

But fuck, you both really wanted it. So bad. You couldn’t keep lying to yourself. 

His hand creeps up your back, resting a reassuring palm on your aching shoulder. 

“Stop thinkin’ for a minute,” he whispers, “You don’t need to make any decisions right this minute. We will just take it one second at a time. Ain’t no way ‘m lettin’ you go. I want you here.”

You didn’t know if he meant here in general or in the figurative sense. 

He meant it both ways. 

Maybe it was crazy, but that feeling was deep in your chest. This palpable inkling that this could evolve into you being his. 

This being more than sex? More than a crush?

Being Joel’s sounded like a fever dream.

He wanted nothing more but to wrap you up into his arms, hold you and kiss your head, reassuring you that you two can figure it out together. But instead, Sarah walks out in her soccer uniform, squashing the moment. She stands in front of the bed, finally making eye contact with you. 

“You guys gonna get up and watch me kick ass, or are you gonna to lay in bed all day?”

You smile at her. You silently prayed this girl would stay in your life forever.

“I know my answer.”

Joel smiles, “’s go kick some ass.”

-

again thank you for reading!! let me know your thoughts!

find part 1 and 2 here!

[dreamsofbroflovski]

How about a ditzy, naive, cutesy ish ( think cutecore ) fem bodied reader with Craig? :3 I love love love your writing btw!

this request is old enough to pay rent in my askbox at this point.

THIS IS THE FIRST PART TO THIS FIC. next part (the one with the smut) is coming out in a couple of days. i've decided to post pt1 here now to give you guys something while it's not out yet, and also because editing ~6k words right now - while i'm awake and alert - and then the rest later is easier than editing 14k+ all at once when i'm done

i'm so sorry for the wait and for making you guys wait even longer for the smut. but it was better that way

Craig Tucker x Reader - sugar (c)rush - part 1

Also available on ao3! 𓆩♡𓆪 Link to Part 2

Summary: Craig Tucker's unwanted visit to the maid cafe leaves him in a sour mood, but the place might bring something that makes his life the sweetest it's ever been.

Warnings: Explicit Language, Fem!Reader

A/N: This work was originally supposed to be a one-shot, but it started getting too long so it got turned into a two-parter. Next part's the smut!

Yeah, I'm showing exactly my weeb background in this one. If anyone has maid anime recs I'm all ears

Craig Tucker let out a deep contented sigh as he settled on the couch, putting his feet up on the coffee table in front of it. Contentment that didn’t come only from the physical sensation of sitting down, but also the psychological freedom it represented. He had finally managed to catch up with the downright obscene amount of essays and projects his university course was hauling onto its students, his job was being somewhat easy on him, and his home had finally reached a state of cleanliness that satisfied him - this last one probably being the most surprising concept of all.

For the first time in a bunch of weeks, he was finally able to just relax and do absolutely nothing, without the overwhelming weight of adult responsibilities crushing his shoulders. It was all heading up to be a perfect Saturday.

Had it not been for Clyde Donovan barging through the door of their shared apartment, yelling before he even entered, his arms flailing everywhere as the energy built up in his body tried to find some escape.

“Craig, Craig! You’re not gonna believe this, dude! It’s genius!”

Words that famously preceded disasters.

There wasn’t a single day that Craig didn’t regret moving away with his best friend for university. He figured that, by putting some distance between himself and South Park, he’d at least break free from the bulk of his problems. Turns out, he brought the problems with him and now they just seemed to have gotten worse.

Clyde approached the couch with quick steps, extending his hand eagerly towards Craig, which finally allowed the black-haired man to see that his friend had brought something inside with him - what seemed to be a light pink leaflet for a place or event unknown.

“What’s this?” Craig asked as soon as the paper touched his fingers, still following Clyde with his eyes. Even if reading the information it contained would’ve only taken a couple of seconds, he decided it wasn’t worth the brain cells since his friend would probably just try and explain everything to him anyway; asking him straight up would be less time-consuming.

“It’s a flyer for that new maid café, dude!” Clyde dropped himself next to his friend on the couch, turning to him with pure excitement in his face.

“The new what now?”

“A maid café, dude!” Clyde repeated like the concept was obvious. “It’s a café where all the waitresses dress in those hot-ass maid outfits and treat you like a damn king!”

The brunet held such reverence to his explanation, it made it seem like what he was describing was simply the best thing to have ever graced the planet, a present given by the gods themselves to satisfy his mortal urges. It only made Craig want to know about it even less.

“I’m not going to that.” Craig placed the flyer on the coffee table carelessly, bringing his attention to his phone again.

His friend let out an almost comical gasp of surprise. “What? Why?”

The other male rolled his eyes. Clyde had known him since they were kids, yet he still always came to him with his stupid ideas expecting him to agree with them without another thought, despite knowing full well that Craig was a whole different animal from him. “Because I don’t want to.”

“Please, dude!” Clyde clasped his hands together, looking at his friend with wide pleading eyes. It was clear he was trying to give him the Puss In Boots face, which was terrifying. “I tried inviting the guys from uni, but they won’t come either!”

“Then go alone.” To Craig, it was an obvious solution to a problem that shouldn’t even exist - but he knew that his friend wouldn’t accept it, the ever needy fellow refusing to do anything by himself if he could avoid it.

“Fuck no!” Exactly the response Craig expected to receive. “Dude, I need you there! Can’t just go alone to a place like this, the chicks will think I’m a weirdo!”

“They already would. Because you are.” Apparently Craig’s phone had nothing of value to provide him, because he also threw it at the table, letting it land next to the leaflet.

Clyde pouted, flipping his friend off, and receiving the exact same move as a response. “Fuck you, Craig! You’re an asshole, you know that?” 

That display of irritation at his friend lasted very little, as immediately after he was clinging onto the sleeve of his hoodie, his begging reaching a breaking point. “Come on, dude! I’ll pay for both of us!”

Craig yanked his own arm out of the brunet’s grasp and scooted to the farthest end of the couch with an angry expression. “You said that shit the last four times!”

“I swear I’ll do it this time!” Clyde scrambled around with his hands for a moment, still trying to grab Craig, the movement mirroring the racing of his mind as he tried to figure out a way to make his friend comply with his request. “I’ll do all the dishes for a week!”

When the black-haired male stopped moving altogether, Clyde grinned, knowing he had him in the bag. 

If there was one thing Craig hated more than putting up with his friends’ bullshit, it was doing dishes. Nothing about it was pleasant: the feel of the soggy sponge and the soap on his bare hands, how his shirt would always get wet afterwards, having to touch the gross remnants of food on the plates, scrubbing the grease out of all the pots and pans… He let out a groan of disgust just thinking about it. And, weirdly for a bachelor pad where takeout was regular, he and his roommate seemed to go through an obnoxious amount of dishes all the time, which meant it was a constant task that needed doing and took so much out of his time that he could be using doing something actually productive.

“Two weeks.” Craig lifted two fingers to emphasize the number as he turned his face to the man beside him. “And you’re paying,” he then repeated, not wanting Clyde to forget his earlier promise. His friend nodded enthusiastically, the specifics of his side of the deal going through one ear and out the other as he focused solely on the fact that Craig had finally agreed.

With a grumpy huff, Craig rubbed his eyes with his palms and stood up from the couch, once again roped by a friend into another stupid idea that was sure to end up stressing him out. There went his peaceful moment.

༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩♡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚

Exactly like he thought he would, Craig wanted to spin around and leave as soon as he arrived at the place.

It was like he had been immediately engulfed in a tsunami of cute. The walls were pink with some pictures and drawings of different anime girls framed on them as well as some photos of adorable-looking desserts and drinks that Craig assumed were served there. Frill details had been painted high up on those walls, giving the impression that they hung from the ceiling line itself. The floor was white wood, and the young man would’ve been tempted to just stare at it the whole time and save himself from the assault on his eyeballs caused by everything else, yet he knew that would only provide him temporary relief. Every single piece of furniture that could have a bit of lace or a ribbon definitely got it; the centerpieces on the tables, the ceiling lights, even the backs of the admittedly very comfy-looking chairs. There was a set of shelves at the back, near the counter, which displayed various merchandise items - mugs, cold cups, t-shirts. Craig never understood the whole ‘coffee shops selling merch’ deal to begin with, and the fact that someone would willingly bring those things home to show that they had been to the place was just damn baffling.

He could not comprehend how someone in their right mind would want to spend money to be there once, let alone get a job at the place and have to see this every. single. day. He felt a tinge of sad empathy for the maids Clyde had spoken of earlier, but it was snuffed out of existence when one of those women approached them and opened her mouth to talk. She was every bit as obnoxious as the environment; speaking in a forced cutesy voice that sounded shrill to his ears, explaining every part of the café’s ‘rules’ - no touching the maids, no asking for personal information, no taking photos of the women, maids can only sit down with customers after payment of an extra fee - with way too much enthusiasm for his liking. The uniform she wore consisted of a baby pink dress with white details on the end of the puff sleeves and white frills at the end of the poofy skirt, right above the knee, and her legs were fully covered by a set of opaque white pantyhose. An equally white and frilly short pinafore apron went over the dress, with pockets on the front and a small pin at the bust that said the maid’s name, a piece of information that was forgotten by Craig right after he read it.

Craig tried to keep his cool as the woman escorted them to their table, sighing with relief when she finally let them be and said someone else would arrive shortly to pick up their orders. 

“Hell yeah, dude! Isn’t this great?” Clyde giddily said, taking in the environment one more time, stretching his neck to have a better look at one of the busy maids before turning back to his friend.

The freezing glare he received in response told the brunet all that he needed to know.

Taking note of the menus on the table, both men picked up one each and started scanning through it in broken silence, given Clyde’s continuous exclamations and gasps of apparent joy. As for Craig, it probably made everything worse. All the items available were ridiculously overpriced, and had dumb unnecessary names; it turned out that the visual pollution caused by the excessive pictures of the food was necessary, otherwise he’d never have figured out that a ‘Fuzzy Caramel’ was in fact supposed to be just your average frappuccino, or what on Earth a ‘Delightful Bubblegum Spring’ even was. If there was anything he’d be joyful about, it was the fact that Clyde had promised to foot the bill, and Craig had full intention of forcing his friend to go through with it this time. “Dude, it’s so hard to decide!” Clyde murmured, seeming slightly awestruck behind his menu. “Everything looks so good!”

Craig’s eyes focused a bit on the images all over the menu, unable to find a sarcastic retort to send his friend’s way - everything did, in fact, look pretty appetizing. “Pictures can’t tell you shit,” he settled for pointing out, “This stuff can still taste bad.”

“That’s bullshit,” Clyde shook his head. “If it looks good, then it’s gotta be great. Have you ever seen a hot chick that wasn’t great in bed?”

‘As a matter of fact… ‘, he thought, but decided that that was not an appropriate conversation to be having in that particular environment, settling instead for a small huff that Clyde either didn’t notice or didn’t care for, considering the smug smirk that tilted his lips with the satisfaction of ‘winning’ the argument.

They didn’t get much more time by themselves to really mull that over, though; A soft unknown voice brought attention to a third party that had shown up near the table, the background noise having covered its arrival. 

“Hello there, masters! I’ll be your maid for today! How may I help you this afternoon?”

Both men turned their faces to you, with varying degrees of enthusiasm. Clyde basically gave himself whiplash with how quickly he turned, his whole upper body shifting to your direction as he beamed with joy. Craig, on the other hand, only turned out of basic respect, keeping a straight face and making no sound, a movement quite reminiscent of a robot’s.

“Oh, hey there! I’m Clyde and this is my friend Craig!” The enthusiasm his friend used on that greeting matched what you had on yours, and both had Craig cringing internally, while also taking note of the fact that he hadn’t even answered your question. Clyde always seemed to use more sentences in interactions than what they required.

You didn’t seem to mind, though. tapping lightly on the button in your apron as you responded. “I’m (Y/N)! It’s very nice to meet the masters, and welcome to the café!”

It was a very simple answer, obviously default to a server’s duty, but Clyde’s smile seemed to grow impossibly larger, which blared sirens in Craig’s head. Years of knowing his friend made him silently pray to any possible entity that the guy wouldn’t try and make a pass on you - he didn’t know how much attention the man sitting in front of him had paid to the list of rules that basically told them ‘Don’t Mess With The Maids’, and the embarrassment of getting kicked out of the place in front of every other patron didn’t appeal to him at all, no matter how much he didn’t want to be there.

“That’s such a cool name! Thanks a lot!” Oh, thank fuck. Clyde seemed to have brought a brain cell from home instead of mistaking basic politeness for romantic interest… again.

You made a little hum of approval to accompany your gentle smile, and tapped some things they couldn’t see on the - also very pink - tablet you were holding. “So, what’s it gonna be for the masters today? Have you gone through all of our options yet?”

“Ah, yeah, that!” The reminder made Clyde nod vigorously and turn his face to the menu again, scanning it for his choices. “Let’s see, where was it… Can I have a ‘Soft Maple Mix’, and the…”

Craig tuned out his friend’s speaking after that, making use of the time you spent distracted taking his order to fully size you up. You had a similar sweet and high-pitched tone of voice to the first maid, but he captured the difference straight away - yours was softer, more natural, like it came that way straight out of your vocal cords. The uniform dress was the same, but seemed to fit better in your body; take away the apron and he could’ve honestly mistook you for a client at the place instead of a worker, with the way you wore it so well. Instead of full pantyhose, you had striped knee-high socks on, white and pink in a slightly different shade to that of your maid uniform. Your facial features had their gentleness enhanced by a light layer of makeup, in which he appreciated the lack of bold colors or excessive details, the simple yet still impactful look making for a sight for sore eyes.

Even someone as nonchalant as him wouldn’t be able to deny that you looked adorable. Lovely and approachable, like something worth protecting, and had the setting been another, he’d have no qualms about mentally acknowledging your beauty and admiring it some more. Right there, though, already annoyed by the environment and the situation he was put in, he couldn’t help but wonder if any part of you was even true; everything cute in the place was dialed up to 11 to attract customers, and obviously, being a server, you’d be inclined to match the setting. Very likely, as soon as the shop closed for the day, you’d turn into something completely different - and  if there was one thing Craig disliked, it was fake fucking people. People who could shift their entire personalities around like it was nothing were the worst. Maybe that’s why he grew up to have few friends, but at least he knew he was able to trust the ones he had, considering no one could fake being that stupid.

When Clyde finally finished yapping away his ridiculous order and you turned your face to Craig again, he was quick to straighten his posture and pretend like nothing else had been going through his mind. “What about you, master? Do you wish to place your order already as well?” 

That term you used to refer to him again made him wince, but he just shook his head and didn’t mention it. ”Do y’all have just normal black coffee here?”

The slight frown that dipped your eyebrows showed him that this was not a question you were used to receiving. With such a long menu full of options, most people would’ve been drawn to the many extravagant drinks - but Craig would insist on his simpler choice if need be, even if it’d be irritating to do so. To him, this was the best way to find out if a place was decent or not. Fancier beverages can have damn near anything in them, all kinds of different ingredients and preparation methods that can force a false air of quality into something lackluster; but black coffee is straightforward, its taste speaking for itself, so if it’s bad, he knows to not waste any time trying anything else.

Luckily, despite your weirded-out expression, you didn’t question him. “We do, indeed,” you responded in the normal peppy tone, “Would that be it for our dear master?”

“Yeah, that,” he turned his eyes to the menu again and squinted briefly as he tried to make a last-minute pick among the huge array of food items, “And also a… Huh… This.” He just turned the menu to you and pointed at a picture of a cat-shaped grilled cheese.

“Oh, our Cheesy Kitten Warmth?” 

Craig just nodded once at your words while you noted it down on the tablet, choosing death over saying that name out loud. “Alright, a Cheesy Kitten Warmth it is! Well then, masters, I’ll be off for now, but if you need my assistance you can just call over to me anytime and I’ll be here as soon as I can! “

And just like that, you were off somewhere else with a pep in your step, both young men watching you leave until you disappeared through the kitchen door. When they faced each other again, it couldn’t have been more clear that their opinions on the situation vastly differed, like they did on all other points concerning their visit.

“Duuuuude.” Clyde drawled, turning to face Craig again, “What did I tell you? A-fucking-mazing.”

Now Craig doubted if his friend knew what that last word meant. “You really are a fucking weirdo.”

“Oh, come on, Craig,” Clyde’s smile didn’t falter even through the name-calling, “Don’t pretend like you’re not having fun.”

“I don’t have to pretend, I’m not.”

“Fuck right off with that,” the overeager friend insisted, “Did you even hear what she called us? ‘Masters’. I’ve never had a girl call me that before. It’s the best feeling in the world!”

That was the first time in years Clyde had managed to leave Craig speechless without it being from a sentence so stupid no retort could salvage it. His mention had brought back the memory of your voice calling them that, loud and clear as if you’d been doing it right in that moment - making him ashamed of how much he did like it. Despite knowing that it was yet another part of the job, meant to sway needy fellows just like his friend and fool them into thinking they were actually liked so that they’d come back and spend more money to get the high of feeling adored, he knew the trap had caught him too. His blood had run boiling hot every time that word rolled off your tongue in your honey-coated voice, and his leg had been shaking under the table the entire time, a small outlet for a surge of unfamiliar energy that coursed through him - excitement. Sexual, of course, but not just that. A sense of true power.

Had it been anyone else, they’d have called Craig out on his prolonged silence and his cover would’ve been blown. But luckily, this was Clyde; a man not notoriously known for his long attention span.

“Do you think if I send them my CV, I can get a job in the kitchen?”

And just like that, Craig found a way off the corner his friend had put him in, swiftly adopting his serious mindset again as he tried to dissuade the brunet from showing up with his lackluster resumé and nonexistent cooking abilities to beg for a job - both men finding a distraction as they waited for the food to arrive, not paying attention when you finally emerged out of the kitchen.

No one knew how it happened. Whether something had been on the floor near the table that caught your step, if it had been your own foot over the other, or if you had tripped over nothing at all. Either way, it didn’t matter. Because before anyone could react, your body was halfway to the floor already, the contents of your tray escaping your hands while you held onto the metal as if it could catch your fall, a loud squeal ripping through the background noise of conversation in the café.

Your face landed near Craig’s shoe, both his feet raising off the ground as the surprise made him recoil in his chair - a movement that, although it might’ve prevented you from seeing the creases on his sneakers, did little to save him from the barrage of food and drinks that landed square on his body. Both his and Clyde’s orders hit him square in the lap and chest, the coffee they had ordered making him roar loudly in pain as the extremely hot liquid seeped through the fabric of his shirt. Porcelain mugs and plates broke on the floor, their shards scattering everywhere.  

Almost all of the workers in the room stopped what they were doing immediately to assist both you and your patrons, one of them helping you off the floor and taking you out of view to preserve what remained of your dignity while the others apologized to the pair of clients and started fixing the chaos, picking up the broken dishes and cleaning up the food and drinks from the ground. Someone had shown up with a wet towel to assist Craig in wiping away the mess on his outfit, and he didn’t know what was more humiliating; to have that happen to him to begin with, or to be tended to like a messy child by one of those soft-spoken maids while still knowing that he’d have to go back home in dirty clothes, probably even stained from the coffee.

The owner of the place herself had decided to waive both of the guys’ bills for the day as an apology gift, saying they could order whatever they wanted for that visit, as well as gifting them a fifty percent discount coupon for a possible next time; a deal that personally didn’t interest Craig at all - why the fuck would he return to that place to spend money there when they already screwed him over the first time? - but that pleased Clyde greatly, as he accepted the coupon with a huge smile and was quick to usher his friend back to their table so they could continue eating. 

The pair was set up with another one of your maid colleagues, who was pulling all the stops to make sure the both of them were comfortable and happy in their stay, considering the earlier fiasco. But Craig’s mood was already soured beyond repair, irritated with the theatrical antics that accompanied the food and wanting to just be left alone to eat and go home in his silence. It didn’t help that he didn’t care for much of what he ordered, either - the new cup of coffee that was sent his way felt too sweet, even though he hadn’t put any sugar in it, and his Kitten Warmth Whatever had spent one too many seconds on the grill, the markings on the bread a bit too charred for his specific tastes.

The black-haired man endured what he could for a while, but when seeing that Clyde was on his third slice of cake with absolutely no intentions of ending his indulgence of the free cafe food and the maid’s attention, Craig decided to just call an Uber for himself and leave his oblivious friend to figure out how to get home alone later. 

Not wanting to spend much more time inside, he got up and left the establishment without another word, deciding to wait on the sidewalk for the car, finding the noisy city streets surprisingly much less overwhelming than the corny environment of the cafe. Seeing that the rideshare was a good bunch of minutes away, he leaned against the wall outside, scrolling through his socials absentmindedly as he waited.

His brain faintly registered the sound of the café’s tiny door chime ringing, but he didn’t care much for it, figuring it was just another patron leaving much like him. So he wasn’t aware that it was you who slowly went down the steps outside the door and walked towards him - he was only made aware of your presence once you put your hand on his shoulder, calling out to him softly. “Excuse me, sir? Can- Can I have a moment?”

His whole body instantly tensed in light of your touch, his jaw clenching and grip tightening on his phone - a sight that made you recoil with your hand as you gasped in a much more vocal demonstration of the same surprise Craig seemed to be feeling. It was made painfully obvious he wasn’t one for much physical contact, as he only relaxed once you took a step back.

“I don’t have a bill to pay. They cancelled it.” He said dryly once he noticed you were not close to him anymore, still focused on his phone. Because of you, he wanted to add, but found it best to not make himself part of another scene outside.

You nodded quickly, both your hands moving to clutch your apron nervously. “I know, I know, I just…” You started off meekly, and he did notice how you seemed a bit scared, even. “I just wanted to apologize personally, sir. For dropping your order and ruining your clothes.”

For a brief moment, Craig was taken aback, his face lifting up slightly. He didn’t expect you to chase him outside for something like this, to speak to him personally and face his complaints head-on where the other customers wouldn’t see a thing. However, just as it came, it went - this was all just part of your work protocol, down to the shy behaviour, he was sure of it. For all he knew, your boss might as well have told you to come outside herself, not wanting to lose a potential client and wondering if he could be buttered up with soft words.

“You already said that,” he grunted, looking back down again, suddenly acting really interested in a TikTok that had played about forty-five times on his screen already. “You can leave now.”

Another small nod. “I know I have, sir, but…” You averted your gaze to the street briefly, your hands tugging softly at the white fabric they clutched, “I wanted to come and say it myself. I really mean it, sir. I’m so sorry for causing so much trouble, and I hope you can forgive me.”

Craig finally stopped messing with his screen and turned his face to you, catching your gaze in his. You were quick to drop your eyes to the ground, bending your whole upper body forward in a short bow. He’d never seen such a display before - apologetic submission wasn’t something people usually directed at him, and he would die before admitting that it felt good to see you like that, but it also made him angrier to think it was all an act.

“Fucking stop that already,” his groan made you turn your face up immediately, just in time to catch what was probably the most annoyed eye roll you had ever seen.

“I- I’m sorry?” You stuttered as you asked, mouth slightly open in surprise.

He put his phone in the pocket of his jacket and made a gesture with his hand, as if encompassing all of your body - or rather, everything that had to do with you. “This… Thing, all of it,” he huffed, “Stop.”

Slowly, you straightened your posture, though your expression was still nothing short of confused. “I don’t think I understand…”

“Of course you do,” Craig insisted, “It’s part of your job, acting all cute and shit like that. You don’t need to do that out here.”

“It’s not about my job, sir, it’s-"

“Don’t call me ‘sir’. We’re about the same age. It’s weird.”

“Sorry, ahm…” You lowered your face again, and there was silence as you tried to think of something else to call him, your hands kneading at the apron anxiously as you put all of your brain into that thought.

Noticing your struggle, the man decided to speak up again. “My name is Craig,” he said, “Maybe start out with that.”

“Oh, okay… Mr. Craig.” The man scoffed at the honorific, but didn’t actively complain. “It’s not about my job. I’m really sorry. As a person, not as a maid…”

“Then why do you keep acting like that?” He asked, “You’re outside. You don’t have to pretend to be all meek and shy and shit. Just say what you have to say and go.”

“I’m not pretending!” Your voice went even higher in pitch, if that was even possible. “I’m being honest!”

“Ugh, stop making that voice!” Craig threw his head back and tugged at the strings of his hat, the only thing not soiled by your earlier mistake. “Just say it like normal!”

“I’m not making a voice! This is just how I am!”

At this point, a few people passing by the sidewalk had either stopped completely or slowed their speed to pay attention to your discussion, which Craig noticed. He was getting visibly stressed out. With a huff and a second sharp tug to the strings, he forced himself to calm down.

“Look, no offense, but it’s so annoying.” His deadpan tone had returned. “It’s so fake. Nobody wants to deal with fake shit. If you act like the real you, then maybe people will actually believe when you apologize to them.”

You sighed. “I’m acting like the real me,” you stated back gently, “I can’t be anything else.”

And for the first time, Craig found that he wanted to believe you. It had never crossed his mind that someone could be so kind, so sweet, so cute, straight out their heart. Just… Wake up and be that, like he woke up and acted like a jerk every day. But if you had those words to say, that conviction - even if it felt like it was wrapped in cotton candy -, maybe you both were really being true to your essences.

Before he was able to say anything, though, a black car stopped near the both of you - Craig’s Uber, which he had forgotten he had even asked for. The man didn’t take his eyes off you as he entered the car, but no other sentences were exchanged. The ride home was equally silent for him, bringing home the weight of your argument and the smell of coffee on his clothes, along with the faintest hint of strawberry on his shoulder.

༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩♡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚

Against his better judgement, Craig ended up visiting the café once more with Clyde, to take advantage of the discount coupon both of them got. That next time, his friend had convinced some other poor souls to tag along on the ‘adventure’, bringing back a bigger group, a concept that made Craig irked with the irony of it; he had not only managed to go back to the place he said he wouldn’t, but brought more paying customers with him.

You weren’t the assigned maid for his table that afternoon, but the black-haired guy still found himself chasing you with his eyes as you scurried around the café, serving your own clients. The extra people in his group meant he could just stay silent while they chatted among themselves, which gave him plenty of openings to sit alone with his thoughts and analyze your every movement, almost as if trying to catch a sign of weakness. No other accidents similar to his occurred during this next visit, so maybe he was just that unlucky, a concept that didn’t seem far-fetched to him. But still, something about you kept him on his toes. You felt more ‘real’ than the extremely fake version of the environment he had in his mind, and he wanted to know to which end that held true.

So began what could only be described as Craig Tucker’s insanity arc.The next time he went, and the one after that, and the others in sequence, he came in fully alone and of his own volition; there was no way he could make an excuse for going to the maid café. It started slow: Just showing up, getting a table in the corner away from everyone, ordering a black coffee like he would at any other establishment and sitting there saying nothing, refusing to play along with the maids’ over-the-top acts and leaving after a while. 

Until a day two weeks later where, by some wicked will of the gods, he managed to have you as his maid again - and it was very evident you were terrified of the ordeal, fidgeting with the fabric of your dress and approaching his table with your spine so straight you looked like you had a broom handle tied to it. Despite all that, you still managed to greet him with grace and politeness, as if his words from the previous exchange hadn’t fazed you at all. 

This brought to surface his curiosity again and led to his next crazy idea - asking to pay for the special fee that would make it so you’d sit with him at the table and engage in conversation with him. He’d seen other patrons doing so, considering them chumps for spending money on such a thing, but he wanted to figure out your deal, and maybe you’d be more comfortable with talking in your safe environment. Obviously you seemed surprised, but didn’t deny his request, adding the fee to his total on your tablet and taking the empty seat in front of him.

You talked for a while. As in, you talked. The first several minutes were spent in awkward silence, as they should considering the tense way you’d interacted the other day, but before you’d consider one of your usual icebreakers for shy clients, Craig did it for you by asking about the job. Not in a fascinated way like the other clients usually did when the subject came into play - which was something along the lines of ‘how does it feel to work in such a beautiful place every day?’ -, but in a more down-to-Earth vein, making it abundantly clear he wanted your true opinions. Which you gave to him. 

He sat in silence as you explained your thoughts, only stopping every now and then for him to order more coffee, a sandwich, or to renew the fee for your stay. The conversation naturally shifted into other topics, but as you babbled away in each of them, he was paying attention to your whole behaviour again; how even the more tense parts of the conversation didn’t seem to make you ‘break’ the ‘character’ he thought you had going on. When night had fallen and he finally left, he wasn’t exactly fully convinced, but he left the café already thinking of conversation starters for a next opportunity that would let him understand you better.

The owner, having noticed how that day went down, made the association that he was more prone to spending more time and ordering extra stuff if you were the one serving him, so she and the other maids began deliberately making sure to try and keep you available around the time where he usually showed up. And he was extremely punctual about his visits. So the next time, and the one after that, and the others, you were there - and, he was internally relieved to see, less nervous about his presence as well.

He never mentioned the first occurrence, and you obviously didn't either. The following meetings were much lighter in spirit, and although Craig didn’t behave as enthusiastically as all the other patrons did, he began sharing more about himself, letting himself engage with your questions rather than just asking you things. What’s more, he actually paid attention to the answers. Most clients were just keen on yapping away and didn’t remember much about the maid herself, since they weren’t going to return as often, but Craig showed up at least two times a week, always to hang out with you specifically, so it didn’t take long for an actual connection to form. 

Along with the vibes, what also changed was Craig’s appetite: he began taking your suggestions on specific dishes you liked from the menu, ordering them for himself and giving his sometimes too honest opinion. The plain black coffee made its appearance here and there, but it now competed with slices of cake and pie, different sandwiches, croissants, iced lattes, and even the occasional tea, all of them with long and cute names you pronounced with a naturality he still lacked.

There was one specific aspect of your interactions that he firmly held onto, though. He insisted that you not call him ‘Master’ or ‘Sir’ during your conversations - the very first customer to actively ask to be called by name. The maid roster had waved it off to a need for a more personal interaction, which you complied to gladly. Yet, it was unmistakable how his head would snap in other directions whenever another maid was in one of the nearby tables, talking to her ‘Master’; like the word drew Craig in, even if he refused to have it used towards himself.

Never would he admit it, but those encounters eventually became the highlight of his days. You were a breath of fresh air from the tribulations of his stressful life. He didn’t have many things that could calm him down the way your gentle voice did, and soon it was all that he could hear in his mind during days of particular irritation - it grounded him, validating his feelings with bits and pieces of advice you did give during your talks, but merged into something much more personal, like you actually cared. It disconcerted him how his heart rate would increase whenever you directed him a question about his experiences, and he’d have to force himself to remember you were just making the conversation you were paid to.

And having your eyes on him for hours, being able to stare at your beautiful face without shame as you hung onto every word that came out of his mouth… He hadn’t realized how much he craved that sort of attention until you came into the picture. Being single was comfortable for him, he had enough problems on his own without having to deal with someone else’s. But he wanted to deal with yours. He wanted you to feel safe with him the way he did with you, to know you past the limits of the tiny table in the corner, to have those stocking-clad legs walking beside him and to hold the hands that kept on bringing him all different kinds of pastries. But he wasn’t a creep, he knew where his boundaries resided with you, and Craig Tucker wasn’t the type of man to let a line blur - he wouldn’t squander his moments of peace over a flicker of interest that might not even be reciprocated. Being your client was all he needed, should be all he needed.

Funnily enough, for a guy so observant, he never noticed how eventually that fee from your table hangouts wasn’t being charged from his credit card anymore. Along with the price of a slice of cake or two.

Dividers by @cafekitsune

[ajvocals43]

Country Girl (Shake it for me)

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 3378

Warnings: Rushed writing (not edited), body image issues, cheesy cliches

Summary: Y/n is in love with Dean, but what happens when she decides to show him what he's missing out on?

A/N: I couldn't let Dean's birthday go by without writing a fic for him. This was done really quickly and hasn't been edited but I've had this idea for a while. I will also say, I didn't add it but if you play Whole Lotta Woman by Kelly Clarkson during the beginning of the bar scene, it hits. That, along with Country Girl by Luke Bryan are what this was based off of.

Hot. That was my only thought as I stepped out of the backseat of the dark chevy impala. I stared up at the western themed motel in the small town in the middle of seemingly nowhere. Dean was freaking out, as per usual when it came to the “Wild West”, and what better place to be for all that than Texas. It’d been a long time since I’d been to the lone star state; not since I was a teenager trading months between my parents. It hadn’t seemed as hot then. Right now, I felt like I was standing on the surface of the sun in my dress pants and blouse that I’d worn to interview families while Dean and Sam went to the Morgue. I really needed some shorts. Really, I needed the confidence to wear some shorts. 

“Is anyone else sweating balls out here?” I asked the brothers who were grabbing their things out of the trunk to head into the room. My question fell on deaf ears as they both continued their conversation inside the air conditioning. They were probably both tired of my complaining since it hasn't stopped since we hit the dry heat earlier this afternoon. I sighed, grabbing my bag, shutting Baby’s trunk and heading into the room. Sometimes we split into 2 rooms but most times there were rooms that had 3 beds, or 2 beds and a cot that we would rotate through each town. This would have been my turn to have a cot but luckily, there were 3 beds lined up against the far wall. I sighed as the air conditioning kicked on and I felt the vent above me start to blow cold air into the room. 

“Better, princess?” Dean called from where he stood at the thermostat on the wall opposite me. I nodded, feeling the cold air chill my skin from the hot summer sun outside, walking over to my bed on the left side of the room. 

“Didn't you grow up in Texas, Y/n?” Sam asked from where he sat on his laptop. “Shouldn't you be used to the heat?” 

“I alternated months. And I never came in August because no sane person comes to Texas in August, Dean!” I called over my shoulder, rifling through my clothes for something that wasn't coated in sweat. 

I heard Dean chuckling behind me as he moved about the room. “Sorry, I don't choose where monsters kill people.” 

“Please, you're just happy you get to wear a cowboy hat again.” I shot back.

“You're damn right I am!” Dean said with a smirk. “And don't forget the boots, either, sweetheart.” 

I rolled my eyes as I went to get out my laptop, unable to stop the smile that crept onto my face. Sam was right, I'd spent a lot of time in Texas growing up and I'd loved it. Times had changed though and while there were pieces I'd always love and miss, it wasn't home anymore.  But I did have to admit, seeing Dean’s excitement made me feel something that I hadn't felt in a long time. It was rare to see him like this and for a second, I just let myself enjoy that, not knowing the next time I would be able to see it. 

Yeah ok, so I'm one of the dumb girls who fell for Dean Winchester. Sue me. I'm not going to go through the whole story of how the brothers saved my life and we became besties but then I started to grow feelings for the elder brother through the endless flirty banter. It's not necessary and I don't want to waste time on it. But it didn't change the facts. I was in love with him. And he didn't even notice me. 

Could I be more of a cliche? 

 Apparently, yes. 

We had a lot of work to do, so we got to putting the stories together and starting on the research for the night. And it took forever, especially considering how tired we all were from the drive into town. We decided to have dinner and call it an early night. 

 We’d spent a couple hours researching and coming up with a plan before Dean announced that he was bored out of his mind and going out. Sam looked at me, we both knew I was going with him. 

It wasn't that I didn't enjoy going out with Dean, I relished and feared the alone time in equal measure. Because on one hand, having time alone with Dean usually meant I got to see parts of him that I don't think he lets others see very often. And that just made me all the more hopeless because it felt like what he told me in these moments connected us on an even deeper level and that I knew him better than any one night stand or past girlfriend ever could. Because I knew the now Dean. The one that had been through hell, purgatory and so much more. I could understand him because I knew he wasn't the same 26 year old hunter that those girls had thought they could fix. I was under no delusions of being able to fix Dean Winchester. He was a fully grown adult and I was not his mother. But I think what kept my unreasonable hope of ever being with him going was that I accepted him. Bad habits, snap decision making, self-sacrificing traits and all. Because he was Dean. And all those broken parts that left scars and tore apart past relationships made him the most caring, courageous and loving person I'd ever known. 

On the other hand though, going out alone with Dean sometimes meant having to deal with broody moods, childish behavior and… picking up girls. Girls who looked nothing like me. I wasn't ashamed of my size…for the most part. I could appreciate my curves most days, but there were times where I struggled not looking like the bartenders or waitresses at the establishments we stopped at. The kinds of girls Dean picked up. He rarely ever went home with girls now, but it still happened. And it was not a fun time for me to sit in the backseat so he could drop me off at the hotel with Sam like I was a kid. Or even worse, when I refused to ride and had to walk or wait for an Uber to come pick me up. Because then, Dean wouldn't leave until someone safe showed up to come get me, and while I appreciated the thought, I did not appreciate the glares from the girls or the feeling like I was a child who couldn't take care of herself. 

Regardless, because we were friends, I wanted to look out for him. I knew Sam got some anxiety when Dean would just up and leave sometimes because you never know what could be lurking in the shadows, especially in our line of work. Or at least that's what he told me. I had the stinking suspicion he just wanted me out of the room because he knew about my feelings for Dean and didn't want to monitor my moping while he was gone. Which was understandable. 

 Dean and I got into our respective sides of the car as usual. Sam normally rode up front in the passenger’s seat, but would sometimes sacrifice the leg room for me when I got car sick. This wasn’t new by any means and yet, my body’s reactions were as if this was the first time we’d been this close together. I was hyperaware of his smell, the sounds of the leather moving and adjusting underneath us, the feel of the engine under me. I rustled through his box of cassettes on the floor before landing on Bob Seger. Dean gave me a look as I switched out the Led Zeppelin that had been in earlier. I shrugged and turned up the volume as the opening notes of Rock ‘N’ Roll Never Forgets came through the speakers. Dean was still giving me a weird look so I ignored him and started singing, waiting to enjoy the feel of the rushing air cooling down the car as we pulled out onto the road. 

Surprisingly, we didn't go to a bar though. Dean pulled Baby into a parking spot in front of a western shop that couldn't have been more than a mile away from the motel. What were we doing here? With the lack of movement on my part, Dean rounded the car and opened my door for me.

 “Come on, Princess. Let's get some gear.” I just stared at him. Why were we here? “You comin?” He asked when I just stared at him in shock. 

“Uh… y-yeah.” I stuttered. I truly didn't expect this from him. I scrambled to get out of the car and follow Dean who had turned with a smile and begun to walk into the store. 

As I entered the store, I got over my shock and figured he probably wanted a hat. Or boots based on the extensive collection that lined 3 of the 4 walls in the store. I followed him for a little before I ventured off to find shorts. The sweating was starting to get uncomfortable and I couldn't last much longer in jeans and dark shirts. I wandered through the racks, attempting to find clothes in my size, of which there weren't as many as I would like. But I did find some. A few lighter material tops and shorts that seemed like they’d fit. But I got distracted (I know, terrible for a hunter) and missed Dean sneaking up behind me. 

“What about these?” I turned to find Dean with a pair of what could barely be considered shorts. And sure they were cute with all their jewels and the belt that was looped through them, but they would no doubt look like underwear on me. 

“You’re funny.” I said as I turned back to what I was looking at. 

“I do.” he agreed, “But what's wrong with these?” 

“Theyre short.” I scoffed. 

“Isnt that the point of shorts?” he asked, seemingly confused. He wasn't wrong. And on good days, they were something I might wear. 

“I see your point. I guess” I said hesitantly. 

“Great! Then let's grab some boots…” he turned and eyed a scrap of fabric that was supposed to be a shirt “and this” he picked it up “and get out of here.” I laughed and followed obediently. 

We picked up some boots because we needed to be “authentic” for some reason and left for the motel. When we got back to the room, Sam was still in the same place we’d left him. “I’d assumed you guys went to get food or something.” He said before turning his computer towards us. “But get this. I think I found what we’re looking for.” 

The rest of the hunt went pretty smoothly. A simple salt and burn, and only Sam got mildly injured from being thrown into a wall. So we decided to celebrate. Well…Dean did. I figured this time I would stay back. 

“Why didn't you go with?” Sam asked from his place at the table. 

“Didn't feel like it.” I shrugged, not looking up from my book. 

“Uh huh.” Sam said. He paused for a while before saying “Y’know, he's not going to know how you feel unless you show him.” 

“Show? Not tell?” 

“Well we all know both of you are terrible at expressing your feelings. So maybe showing would be easier.” At this, he shut his computer and turned to look at me. 

I put my book down. “I love your confidence in me Sam, but you see as clearly as I do what his type is.” I said, trying not to let my sadness show. 

“Maybe…” he drew out, “But I also know my brother.” 

“What is that supposed to mean?” I asked. 

“It means, you should go to the bar.” Sam said, as if it were that simple. Maybe it was for other girls. The ones who didn't have the history we did. 

“Im scared Sam.” I finally confessed. 

“And?” he asked. “I don't remember you ever letting a man control your life.”  

He was right. I was a total cliche but… to be honest, I loved making people realize they'd underestimated me. The bar wasn't far, close enough to walk even though Dean had taken the car. Sam’s words got me thinking. And while I was terrified of being rejected by him, I felt like I owed it to myself to have a good time, regardless of what or who Dean was doing. 

So it was time to get off my ass and stop moping. I went over to my duffel bag in the corner of the room and found the shorts and top Dean had picked out earlier that week. What better way than to make a man regret than to throw his own choices back at him. I jumped into the shower and pulled on the clothes. It was a lot more skin than I usually showed but… it'd do the trick. The shorts did wonders for my ass and the top the same for my boobs. And while I wasn't fond of my thighs spilling out the bottom with the highest inseam of a short I'd ever had, it was a pretty sexy look. As a hunter, I never wore makeup so I did my hair and was about ready to leave, when at the last minute, I changed my regular thick boots for the cowboy boots we’d gotten earlier that week. It'd been a while since I'd rocked the denim and boots look, I kind of missed it if I was honest. 

And with that, I bade Sam goodbye and walked out the door. When I walked in, it was actually pretty crowded. It must've been a dancing night because when I looked to my right, there were at least 30 people on the floor line dancing. Maybe I'd head over there. But then I spotted Dean at the bar and I made my way over to him, swaying my hips just a little so as to draw a bit of attention from those around me. Maybe they’d see what he was missing. I stopped in front of him and he seemed stunned. Probably surprised that I came out tonight when I'd been adamant about staying in the motel earlier. But then, of course, the bartender returned and started flirting with Dean.

Refusing to let that break my mood, I turned and smiled at someone on the other end of the bar. He smiled back and waved. Just then, the music changed, and I heard the beginning guitar of Luke Bryan’s Country Girl start blasting from the stage. It was one of the few newer line dances I’d kept up with. I'd gone dancing years ago with a friend of mine and she taught me it so I at least knew one modern dance. I jumped up and strutted over to the floor, my steps falling to the beat of the song. 

And wow. In my constant fight against the supernatural, I sometimes forgot how much fun simple things like dancing could be. I lost myself in the moves, getting more into it until I was in the middle of the floor, smiling and laughing with those around me. Throughout the song, I let my worries fade away and let myself embody the spirit of the lyrics. Until it came to an end. I turned around to leave and found Dean had moved from the bar to one of the smaller standing tables that rounded the dancefloor. I made my way over to him. 

“I almost forgot how much fun those are.” I panted, coming off the dance floor. 

“Yeah, I bet.” Dean answered as he slid a glass of ice water to me across the small table top. “You were a natural out there though.” 

I took a sip and let the cool water slide down my throat. “That? It's really just about getting the repetition.” 

“Nah, I'll leave that to the professionals,” he held his bottle of beer up in a salute to me. “I'm just fine with my place watching.”

“Oh yeah?” I asked, looking back to the dance floor. “Who were you watching? The blonde? The redhead?” I tried for nonchalance. 

“You.” I heard him say behind me. It took a second for the word to register. 

I turned around, confused. “What?” 

“I'm always watching you. You know that.” 

Right. I really needed to stop getting my hopes up about things that were not real. “Dean, I appreciate that, but I promise, I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself-”

“It's not like that and you know it.” 

“Dean, I-”  I started. 

“Baby, don't make me spell it out for you; you know I want you.” He deadpaned. 

My jaw dropped. There was no way I had just heard that right. “Huh?”

He looked at me silently, waiting for me to wrap my brain around what he was saying, like it wasn't the last thing I had expected to hear come out of his mouth. 

“You…want me?” I asked finally. “Like me, Y/n, me?”

Dean chuckled slightly. “So the teasing wasn't intentional. 

“Teasing?” I asked, bewildered. “What teasing?” 

“The dancing, the flirting, the tight clothes-” 

“Tight clothes?” I blurted. 

“Not like that.” he started. I hadn't realized the sexist connotation to those words as he’d said them. “Sweetheart, you have to have realized what you do to me when you wear those jeans, or leggins, or those deep v tops.” 

“That's because they don't make a lot of clothes that fit bodies like mine.” 

“Really?” his voice dropped. “Cause I'm pretty sure that every stitch of clothes you're wearing, right down to those boots were made specifically to fit every inch of your body perfectly.” He grabbed onto my belt buckle and pulled me, harshly against him. “And to drive me right out of my damn mind.” 

Well fuck me. 

Literally. Please. 

My eyes dropped to his lips. Inches from mine now, I could feel his body heat radiating through our clothes. He leaned down, his right hand moved from my belt up my back and into my hair, grabbing a fist full of curls and pulling gently, drawing my eyes up to his. I licked my suddenly dry lips as I watched him smirk before leaning in slowly, giving me plenty of time to back out. Fat chance of that happening. I raised up on my toes and met him halfway, sealing our lips together in the single hottest kiss I'd ever had. I'd laughed at the amount of girls that gushed over his abilities but holy hell. They were right. I held onto him as we kissed every last breath out of our lungs, only pulling away when it started to hurt. I felt his smile against my own as we caught our breath.  

This was crazy. Absolutely insane. And incredible. “Damn woman.” Dean said, his breaths matching mine. “You drive me crazy.” 

“I know the feeling.” 

“Yeah?” he asked with a smirk. 

“Yeah.” I said dreamily. But my smile sobered as I remembered the bartender. “But what about-” 

“What about what Y/n?” he asked. 

“The bartender?” I asked. He looked at me blankly. “Shes cute.” 

“And?” he asked. “Princess, have you seen yourself?” He made a show of looking me over. “You’d drive any man out of his mind. I'm just lucky you chose to do it to me.” 

“Who said this was for you?” 

His face turned damn near murderous for a moment. “Let them try it and see what happens.” With that, his hand slid down to wrap around my waist and pull me impossibly tighter to him. There would be no doubt to anyone that we were together. “You’re stuck with me now sweetheart.” 

“Sweetheart?” I asked, playfully. “Not ‘princess’?” since that seemed to be his favorite name for me as of late. 

“You like that, huh?” he asked gruffly. “Well…you're mine, princess.” And with that, he leaned down to kiss me again. 

Masterlist 

[stu-dyingstudent]

Sakura Haruno fanfiction recs: ANBU ROOT

It only feels right to make my ROOT list now since I posted my ANBU fic list! Similarly to the shadow corps, ROOT had so much wasted potential it actually saddens me. Kishimoto had so many great ideas in Naruto that he just never fully fleshed out and it's a shame. One thing in specific is the whole Torune and Shino situation. Two words: wasted potential!!! It could've been so good and really developed on Shino (and the Aburame clan).

Anyway, once again since our knowledge on the stories and workings of ROOT are limited, this allows for some pretty interesting interpretations. Also, I actually saw an interesting comment the other day about how Sakura would've been a good candidate for the program because of her chakra control and lack of family influence in Konoha and I honestly have to agree. I might be a bit biased, but whatever. Enjoy some root!Sakura recs!

Also, try out my ANBU list (some overlap).

Started: 2024.08.13

Last Updated: 2024.12.19

note: feel free to check out my master list which has a bunch of Sakura Haruno fic recs (all organized)!

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The Small Postures - Celenier || ao3 || T || kakasaku || canon divergence || incomplete

Sakura acts as a spy for Tsunade when Danzo takes an interest in her. While earning her place in ANBU Root, she discovers her own path to greatness. She learns grim secrets about how her village operates, makes terrible enemies, and begins to appreciate the extent of her fractured personality.

The Small Postures was oddly disturbing to me... After Shikamaru is approached for ROOT, it's decided by the higher ups that someone more expendable should infiltrate to take the division down. Sakura is the chosen one, but at what cost? With Kakashi acting as her contact and her only confidant on the matter, how will this affect their relationship? Truth be told, I haven't gotten far enough for any sort of romance, so I have no comments there, but this fic is very well written and quite ominous at times.

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Black Bough - Re_Adrienne || ao3 || unrated || kakasakusai || root AU || ongoing

Sakura's parents are civilians.

It does not spare them.

In which Sakura forgets, Sai pretends, and Kakashi can't tell if he's failing the mission.

I really love this fic! Sakura joins ROOT just before her graduation after her parent's death and it's there she meets Sai. Years later the two of them are extracted by Kakashi and she is put under his watch as she readjusts. Part of the struggle is the known fact that she was supposed to be a member of Team 7, which causes some drama (?). There's some super interesting ROOT lore going on and I always have a soft spot for Sai and Sakura friendships!!

Edit: The author has changed the tags and this now seems like it will be a kakasakusai fic.

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Five Kingdoms for the Dead - Evil Is A Relative Term || ffn || M || canon divergence || complete

After the Forest of Death, Sakura comes to realize that being weak is no longer an option. However, she finds that change is sometimes painful and that truth doesn't always come easy. Luckily, she'll have some help along the way.

It's been a hot minute since I've read Five Kingdoms for the Dead, but I'm fairly certain there is some ROOT stuff going on in here! Nonetheless, this is a great fic with some really interesting worldbuilding.

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Trials of Change - Espoiretreves || ao3 || gen || time travel AU || complete

Haruno Sakura made a promise. Looking in the eyes of her Shisou and the reanimated Hokage, she took on the most important mission of her life. Go back in time and try to prevent the 4th Shinobi War. Now, Sakura is back to her 5-year-old body, with all the knowledge and haunting memories of the future. She vows to keep her precious people safe and stop certain events from happening, without altering the timeline too much. The trials her emotions and logic put her through have her questioning her very existence, but for the sake of peace, she has to push forward. No matter what.

Trials of Change is actually apart of a time travel series and I have to say that it is probably one of the best of the genre! This fic is the first of a series and the main focus is ROOT and taking down Danzo. I really adore all of the worldbuilding and backstories going on here in addition to the fact that there are breaks. Yes, the story keeps moving, but there are other things going on, like playdates, and not just Sakura trying to save the world. Also, if you love Shisui then definitely check this out since he has a huge role and his and Sakura's friendship is just so precious.

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cut the head off the snake - itsthechocopuff || ao3 || T || time travel AU || incomplete

when eighteen-year-old, post-war Sakura is thrown back into her tiny, pre-Academy body, she makes a decision. she'd had a childhood once already, and this time, she's more interested in Not Dying when the inevitable shit hits the proverbial fan. so she will work harder, care less, kill more, and smile when she's done.and hey, if she ends up reviving an extinct nature transformation to attract the most corrupt, power-hungry man from her timeline, all the better for her, right?

Such a unique take on a time travel AU and Cut the Head Off the Snake executes it perfectly. Sakura decides that her first order of business is to infiltrate ROOT and that's exactly what she does. Sai, Shin, and Shisui are all great characters and team Ro is present as well. Very good!

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In Another World - eleventheeggo || ao3 || gen || T || orphan Sakura AU || ongoing

What if Sakura was an orphan instead of Naruto and Sasuke?A story about a socially stunted girl who has a thirst for knowledge and is surrounded by softies who love her all the same.

Orphan!Sakura is not something I knew I needed in my life! She is so precious and it's great to watch all of these characters come together for her sake. In Another World also discusses ROOT a bit, which you know I love, so I can't wait for the story to get there.

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Rooted - theRazorofOccam || ffn || T || gen || canon divergence || incomplete

In a universe where Sakura takes a wrong turn, she misses out on the apprenticeship with Tsunade, instead getting recruited by a very different mentor. Life turns out very differently from there on, as she takes the path of a very different kind of ninja. Updates on weekends, unless otherwise stated.

I can't remember too much, but it occurs during the time skip between og and shippuden. At a loss of what to do after her rejection from Tsunade, Sakura decides to join Danzo's program with hopes of becoming a better shinobi.

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parsley seed goes nine times to the devil - Mook_aron || ao3 || M || gen || root AU || one-shot complete

Slow to grow, quick to sprout, parsley seed goes nine times to the devil When she’s six, a man murders her family. The man is tall, and his features are burned into her mind. She won’t forget him- she won’t let herself forget him. Root Sakura au

Sakura is taken into ROOT at a young age and is assigned a mission to infiltrate team 7. Spoilers ig, but Sakura ends up telling Kakashi and what happens from there is sorta open ended. Great story

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I Watched a Change in You - YuffiesNinjaInsanity || ao3 || unrated || narusaku || time travel AU || ongoing

Naruto’s lying across from her, still bleeding out and with his lifeless blue eyes staring at her.

“It’s’kay, Naru.. be joining… you both soon.” She croaks.

Sakura gets sent back in time to a universe where everything is peaceful? She comes from a place where after Danzo's succession to the Hokage title, everyone is ordered to take up ROOT training and so adjusting back to a normal team proves difficult. Pretty good.

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Hang Them Up (To Make Them Bleed) - classical_mess || ao3 || T || gen || root AU || one-shot complete

Sakura always used to think a lot of her career as a ninja, but she never thought she'd up here.

Fairly interesting one-shot where Sakura is recruited by Danzo after getting rejected as Tsunade's student. She spends some time in ROOT and Kiba helps her get out. This is on the moments leading up to Danzo's trial. I also quite liked how Tenten was helping out with the seal.

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Sakura - lilac haze || ffn/ao3 || M || minasaku || time travel AU || complete

AU. Non-Canon. Time Travel. Please see inside for full warnings. Cross posted on Ao3. On his deathbed he was granted eternal peace and place to rest for all of time. Of course that was not appealing to him. Ever unpredictable to the end he had a counter offer. One that the Sage had to consider. In which Sakura's going to have a rough time. A really rough time.

I cannot believe that I forgot to add this fic when I initially published my ROOT list!!! Anyway, really good time travel fic with a doomed romance between Minato and Sakura. You watch them, well, Sakura, grow from a young child to an adult and all of the trouble and tragedy that comes her way. Pretty interesting and dark ROOT stuff going on in here.

Check TWs before hand!!

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Anyway, that's all for now!

[kamisobsessed]

CHRISTMAS SAVES THE YEAR

A/N: I haven't written in years, so I'm sorry if this is terrible😭. I've had Christmas Saves The Year by twenty one pilots in my head for days now, and suddenly this idea came to my mind. I didn't edit it so I apologize if there's mistakes.

Characters: Dean Winchester x F!Reader, featuring Sam, and mentions of Castiel, Jack, Jody, Donna, Claire, and Alex. No use of y/n.

Summary: Your boyfriend Dean, and his brother, Sam, are on a hunt during the holdiays. On Christmas Eve, you aren't sure if they will make it home for Christmas. When Christmas Day comes around, you finally have your family back together again.

Warnings: Fluff, fluff, more fluff.

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Snow fell from the sky as you sat in the bunker hoping your boyfriend and his brother make it home for Christmas. A few days ago they went out on a hunt, a vamp nest two states over, it was a piece of cake. But, things don't always go as planned. Earlier that morning, you got a call from your boyfriend, Dean.

"Hey sweetheart, things went a little sideways and we weren't able to clear the nest yet," Dean said on the other end of the phone.

"Oh, okay" you say in a melancholy tone.

"I promise, we will be home soon," he replied, "Can't leave my girl alone on Christmas now, can I?" He lightheartedly said.

You smiled to yourself knowing he will do everything he can to make it home. "Be safe out there," you told him.

"Always. I love you, sweetheart," He answered.

"I love you, Dean," you responded and the line clicked.

You spent most of the day decorating the bunker with whatever little Christmas decorations you could get at the little store down the road. You even baked cookies so the boys had a treat to come home to. You knew they never really celebrated Christmas over the years, and this being your first Christmas with them, you wanted to make it special. This year particularly has been rough, especially since Dean took on the Mark of Cain.

The clock kept ticking on, soon it was nearing midnight. You decided to go to bed, hoping that your boyfriend would be home when you wake up on Christmas Day.

You went to you and Dean's shared room, threw on one of his t-shirts and climbed into bed. After tossing and turning for a while, you finally drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, you woke up, reaching over to Dean's spot in the bed, only to find it still empty and cold. They still weren't home.

You decided to get dressed and ready for the day, hoping they would make it home before Christmas dinner. You invited everyone to come for dinner, Castiel, Jack, and even Jody, Donna, and Claire and Alex.

You spent most of the day in the kitchen cooking a delicious Christmas dinner. As you finished the last pie, you heard the bunker door open.

"We're home" you heard Dean call out.

You smiled and ran out of the kitchen "you made it back!" you cheered with excitement as you gave your boyfriend a big hug.

"I told you, I wasn't leaving my girl alone on Christmas," he grinned.

"Merry Christmas!" Sam smiled holding his arms out and you gave him a hug. "Merry Christmas, Sam," you replied.

"Smells delicious in here sweetheart, that pie I'm smellin'?" Dean asked as he headed toward the kitchen.

You ran up ahead of him, "Yes, it is. But you have to wait until later to eat it," you said putting your hand on his chest to stop him, "Plus, I just pulled it from the oven, it is still hot."

"So not fair," he grumbled.

"I promise, there is a whole pie with your name on it as soon as we finish dinner tonight," You smile at him.

He cocked an eyebrow at you, "is it apple?" he asked.

"Of course," you say.

He grinned as he cupped your face and gave you a big peck on the lips, "fine, I'll let it slide this time."

Before long, everyone was here for dinner. Everyone was laughing, sharing stories, and really enjoying themselves. After dinner, Dean got to eat his apple pie. Then it was time to open presents.

Everyone was gathered around the small Christmas tree in the library. You stood back watching as Jack passed out presents to everyone. Despite the craziness of the last few years, right now in that moment, everyone seemed to forget the chaos. Everyone seemed happy. Dean walked over to you, standing next to you as you both watched everyone open their gifts.

"The pie was amazing sweetheart," he said as he wrapped his arm around your waist, leaning back against the table with you.

"I'm glad you liked it," you smiled at him.

"Come with me, I have something for you," He said, taking your hand. You followed him out of the library and down the hall. "Wait here" he said letting your hand go as he left you standing in the entryway of the kitchen. "Close your eyes, no peaking," he said. You closed your eyes as you waited for him to come back.

"Okay, open," he said. He held out a small box, wrapped in wrapping paper. It wasn't the best wrap job, but it did the trick.

"Oh, Dean, you didn't have to get me anything," you said.

"C'mon, of course I did," he said handing it to you. You carefully unwrapped it and opened the box. It was a necklace with the a charm of the inital "D".

"It's beautiful, thank you," I said as I held it up to look at it.

"Want me to put it on for you?" he asked and you nodded, handing him the necklace. You moved your hair as he put the necklace around your neck and latched it. You looked down at it and then back at Dean, "It's perfect baby, thank you," you smiled, but then you began to frown, "but, I haven't gotten you anything" you say, lowering your head.

"Sweetheart, you're all I need. And, the apple pie was a plus," he said, winking at you.

You grinned, letting out a small chuckle, "I'm so glad you made it home for Christmas."

"Me too," he said.

"It's been a long year, we needed a night to just be together and laugh" you said.

"Be jolly and cheerful and whatever else they say on Christmas," Dean grinned at you.

You playfully rolled your eyes, "Christmas saves the year" you said. You looked up at the mistletoe you hung above the entryway to the kitchen. Dean looked up and noticed the mistletoe hanging there as well.

"Merry Christmas, Dean" you said, as he cupped your face with his hands.

"Merry Christmas, sweetheart," he replied, leaning in, placing his lips on yours.

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A/N: I hope this wasn't bad😭 Wishing everyone a Happy Holidays!🫶🏼

[crescencestudio]

๋࣭⭑ Devlog #41 | 5.28.24 ๋࣭⭑

It's hot girl (/gender neutral) summer season

HAPPY MAY!!

Hope you're all doing well <3 We're already getting into summer, which is a little crazy to me. The year is flying by! Before I get into what we actually did this month, it wouldn't be a May devlog without our annual Mermay celebration!

Look at those locks. His Ariel/Rapunzel era fr

Since I already had updated Mermay pieces for the Alaris LIs, I decided to do one for our beloved Van this year ^^ Hope you all like it!

For writing this month, I spent a lot of it catching up on Etza edits. Being totally transparent, I wasn't Completely Happy with their route when their draft was finished. But now that I've started the editing process with Wudgey, I'm really excited to see how their route is shaping up!!! We've been fleshing a lot of little interactions out with their route, and I can already see Etza's character really starting to shine with these edits ^^

I've also been chipping away at Kuna'a's route! While it's nowhere near finished, I'm hopeful that this upcoming month will be the month of Kuna'a now that I don't have a bunch of releases I'm trying to balance. His route is also one of the ones whose outline is more fleshed out (Druk and Etza I would say were the least fleshed out, which might be why they also took a bit longer). So I'd love to see Kuna'a's first draft complete/almost complete by the next devlog!

This month, I had to dust off my art skills tbh LMFAOIJSDF. It's been.... a WHILE since I've made CGs since I've been in the writing and coding dungeon for so long. So most of this month's art updates are me getting tilted from redrawing an ugly sketch over and over.

I DID manage to get the Van Mermay piece out. And I also was able to sketch out Kayn's Tragic End CG; that leaves only one CG that has to be sketched out! Currently, six of their CGs are finished, two need to be rendered, and one needs to be drawn still.

And since Kayn's CGs are mostly done, I've started drawing Fenir's. I was actually able to finish one because I basically Locked In when I made it, so here is a sneak peek!

Kisses his little pink nose

You might notice there's not toooo many updates on this month's devlog. The reason for that is because this month, I spent a lot of it recovering both mentally and physically. April shenanigans and those back-to-back releases took a lot out of me, and after going full speed basically since this year started, I learned I REALLY needed a break. That coupled with the concussion I got made it so that most of this month was focused on recovering and then getting back into the groove of things.

Another thing I tried to focus on this month was finding a balance in my workflow. Going into this month, I felt like I was on the verge of a mental breakdown almost every day, in large part because I have a lot of big things I'm trying to accomplish this year. Between finishing my dissertation, Alaris, and a personal big event that I have to plan, I have a lot on my plate this year, and it's made it easy to get overwhelmed as the months pass by. So I wanted to find a balance between all three that didn't make me feel like I was also falling into insanity. After talking to beloved Wudgey of @herotome fame, I've started adopting a schedule that gives me enough structure and flexibility to feel like I'm making progress without going crazy and getting lost in the sauce.

While it's still early in the process, I'm really happy with the balance I've hit, and I'm feeling much more like myself now compared to a month ago!

I caught up on quite a few things in my backlog this month, which made me happy ^^ I always like to learn from and support other devs, so finally being able to return to that helped with the recovery process <3

I don't have any actual fanart pieces, but there are a couple of games I'd like to highlight!

First of all, of course I must talk about our hot girl (/gender neutral) summer cross-promo. If you haven't checked out these games, I can't recommend them enough!!

Links to each game can be found on the Alaris Game page under the magic and mystery otome section!

Specifically, Save the Villainess, The Good People, and Thorn for the Villain are amazing games if you're into thriller/political games layered with mystery

The Silent Kingdom (which I played recently and is AMAZING) and Dual Chroma (Otojam 2023 ALLY) have added mechanics of RPG for exciting action-adventure fantasy stories

Lost in Limbo, Obscura, and Snow White Ashes are BEAUTIFUL dark fantasy games. I've played all three of these and they have some of the most beautiful writing and visuals... BIG FAN OF ALL OF THEM.

Mask Beyond Lies and Sigh of the Abyss have that epic fantasy adventure appeal to them, in a way that I think is similar to Alaris! And Pearlglow Cafe (another Otojam 2023 ALLY) is a very lighthearted and charming game for those of you who like the comfy vibe that most of my stories have!!

Some other games that I played are Favor (@favorvn) by beloved @concreteparasite which is SOOOOO stylish. If you've played Binary Star Hero by Connie, you can expect that same stylish, dark, sultry vibe from Favor. If you haven't checked out either of those games by Connie, I can't recommend them enough, especially if you like yanderes. There is so much aesthetic and atmosphere to them!

I also played Where Winter Crows Go by @prikarin who is a VERY talented developer (and one I'm sure many are familiar with). I had a lot of fun romancing Crowe and both the MC and him have such strong personalities, it was so fun seeing their dynamic!!!! The CGs were also made by anta, who is the dev behind Thorn for the Villain, and they're BEAUTIFULLLLL. Each one has so much style and rly has a professional look to them. Can't recommend enough if you haven't played already ((heads up that it is another yandere game for those who can't do yandere!))

Okay I've yapped enough. If you've made it this far, you are god's strongest soldier LFMASLDIFJ. See you all next month with hopefully some exciting progress!

[hantaslittlearsonist]

7 minutes in the storage room

Working on valentine's day has its perks — like being paid double the usual rate and making use of the lovely unlimited free drinks package the Café offers its employees to drink so many cherry blossom hot chocolates it makes me sick — and its disadvantages — people out on dates seem to lack even more braincells than the average customer.

I circle back to the couple in the corner booth by the window where a loud-looking blonde guy and a tired purple haired guy sit awkwardly across from each-other again. The silence around their table is thick enough to cut with one of the bar's garnish knives, neither of them is even looking at the other. I sigh quietly and put on my well practiced peppy customer-service voice.

'Hey, have we made our choice?'

They both flinch. I grin as bright as I can.

'If you're having a hard time, may I give you some suggestions?'

The blonde nods.

'Well, we have a lovely selection of valentine's specials. I've really been enjoying the Sakura hot chocolate which is even better when you pair it with the cinnamon rolls! But if you're looking for something cold to drink, we have our limited edition Persephone juice which is made of juiced strawberries, cherries and pomegranates of course.'

For all my trouble, I don't even get a reaction. They both look at me like dead fish and frustration starts to build in my stomach.

'Should I give you a little more time to consider your options?'

The purple one seemed to wake up from his trance. 'No, we'll take what you said, hot chocolate, juice and was it bread?'

'You mean the cinnamon roll?' I ask with a placating smile. He nods. 'I'll get that started right away.'

I have to take a breath as I leave their table behind before tapping their order into my company-issued IPod. It prints immediately and the barista — Dabi — who also happens to be my friend, rolls his eyes at the order.

The barista is another of the perks of working on valentine's day. Dabi is truly a work of art. And he's such a brilliant barista and barman the hiring manager had been wiling to look past the fact he was literally covered in tattoos. The intricate inkwork spirals up his neck and over his jawline, stopping at the limit of his lips only to pick back up under his eyes where I know they hide dark circles from the ludicrous amount of shifts he picks up. His tattoos don't end there though, they curl over his upper chest and down his arms where they end in graceful points on the back of his hands like gloves. I'm pretty sure he has more ink hidden under his clothes but every time I ask he brushes me off with a "wouldn't you like to know". Yes, I would like to know, that's why I'm asking!! But Dabi couldn't just leave it at tattoos, could he? Of course not. According to himself, his body is pierced with 21 pieces of titanium, although I've only managed to count 15. Four helixes on each ear, one lobe on one side and two on the other, three in his nostril and a flash of metal on his tongue.

'Stop making me make these stupid hot chocolates.' Dabi grumbles as you reach past him behind the bar to grab the juice and the cinnamon roll.

I gently bump his shoulder with mine. 'Hey it's not my fault the customers keep ordering them.'

'It is. You're the one who keeps pushing them.' Dabi scoffs but smiles, putting on a silly voice to say: "Oh it's my faaaavourite drink we make here, I can't get enough of them."

Laughter comes easily, especially when I'm looking into Dabi's khol-lined teal eyes as they glitter with mirth. 'Well, while you're at it, make me one.'

'Another one? How many have you had today?'

I pause to count them up, I had one when I got to work but it wasn't as nice since I had made it because Dabi hadn't started his shift yet, one after that one table got angry at me for not reading their minds, two others before lunch, one with lunch and two more since.

'Seven.' I quip, putting a little extra edible pink glitter on the cinnamon roll.

'Have you no shame? You will run this fine establishment into the ground with your excessive hot chocolate consumption.' Dabi says, waving his arms theatrically.

'We only carry that drink for a week! I have to drink as much as I can while it's available!'

Dabi laughs and shakes his head. 'Sure, but seven in one shift is a lot and Manager Rumi will get mad if I drain the sakura sirup just for you.'

I cross my arms and pout for added drama. 'Come onnnn.'

'Nope, pick something else. Anything.' A look of regret crosses his face the second after that last word leaves his lips.

'Anything?' What feels like an evil smile appears on my face.

Dabi sighs and rolls his eyes. 'Yeah.'

'Tell me where your other piercings are. And I want a matcha latte with extra agave sirup.'

He shakes his head, his spiky hair not moving a millimetre. 'Fine. Get this to those customers first, they look like they're about to die of discomfort.'

I hadn't even noticed he'd put the whipped-cream topped hot chocolate onto a platter with my cinnamon roll and juice as well as a glass for the juice. 'Thanks Dabs! I'll be right back!'

I was not right back. The 4pm rush hit the second I put the blonde and his boyfriend's order on their table and it had speed-walking around the café like a pinball for the next hour and a half feeling progressively more tired and more annoyed. How dare these people giving me tips make me wait for the Dabi Piercings Reveal. Ugh.

The easy listening playlist manager Rumi insists on having on in the café loops back to Nicky Youre's Sunroof for what has to be the dozenth time that day is starting to grind on my nerves but I'm not going to be free any time soon. No, I'm on the schedule until closing, because we're severely understaffed since two thirds of my coworkers took the day off to go out on dates with their partners. Dabi gives me a look of pity as yet another couple walks into the café looking confused but happy. I have to resist the urge to make a very rude gesture in his general direction.

Think about the piercings and the cold matcha latte you'll get after this. I tell myself, trying to ignore how my body is shaking from standing too long. I feel like I've run three marathons and am being forced to run two more, my feet ache with every step, my arms tremble as I precariously balance plate after plate after plate on them so I don't have to do more than one trip to the food lift. When Rumi taps me on the shoulder and with the brightest smile I've ever seen, tells me to take a break before she leaves to meet with her girlfriend, all I can do is stop myself from slapping her.

There's no one at the bar, which is rare but welcome. I sit, angry but grateful for the respite on my poor feet, on one of the tall stools there.

'I believe it's impolite to put your elbows on tables.' Dabi drawls as he stacks glasses in neat pyramids on their drying racks.

'Oh fuck you this is not a table.'

He gasps and clutches invisible pearls. 'Language, Y/N, you might give that elderly couple a heart attack!'

I laugh, chest feeling lighter. 'So, about those piercings…'

'I'd hoped you'd forgotten, to be honest.'

'I haven't. Where are the others.' I prod.

Dabi sighs, resigned. 'I have some here.' He pats his chest over where his nipples must be, hidden under his black café-logo-printed t-shirt. I blink. He's still talking but I'm not listening.

'Oh… Now I want to see…' I mumble, just loud enough for him to hear me.

'I mean, we're not that busy right now and I do want to get back at Rumi for understaffing us today…'

That's how we end up in the basement storage room under the pretext that Dabi needed to go and get extra bottles of wine for the last rush that was quickly approaching and I wanted to help him. My heart racing faster than it ever has, I turned the key to lock it from the inside, just to be sure no one would bother us as Dabi prepared our cover story (the wine).

I can't believe this is happening. Dabi's hot and funny to bounce sarcastic quips off of but ending up purposefully locked in the storage room with him is not something I thought I'd ever be doing. 'Wasn't there a rule against workplace romance?' I say, just to fill the silence.

'I don't think this counts as romance, Y/N. Lust though… Maybe.' Dabi shrugs and holds the hem of his t-shirt between his fingers. 'You can still back out, if you want.'

I shake my head so vigorously I get a little dizzy.

Dabi smiles, sorter than I've ever seen it. 'Come over here then, you won't see shit from where you are.'

I take a few steps, until I'm standing so close to him I can smell whatever hair-spray he uses to keep his hair spiked like that. The dim golden glow of the single incandescent light that always struggles to illuminate the whole storage room makes the moment strangely intimate. I know nothing about Dabi, not really, only how he likes his coffee (not at all) and that his younger brother is in high school and living with him. I know that he can skateboard and prefers to skate to work rather than use the underground and that he watches Naruto but only because his younger brother watches it. All in all, we're strangers to each-other. And yet, when Dabi puts his hand on my hip to pull me a touch closer to him, my heart flutters.

It has to be the coworker effect, one can only spend so much time with someone they find attractive before their brains starts producing "fuck them" chemicals, right? Even with a dating ban in place. Especially with a dating ban in place. We always want what we can't have.

'You can touch me, Y/N.'

Y/N, Y/N, Y/N. He says it like a wish, like a prayer. His hair paints a choppy shadow over his cheeks but it's not enough to hide the fact that Dabi is blushing. Dabi is blushing.

I pull his shirt up to his chin, revealing — as I guessed — more tattoos, as well as a lovely pair of very shiny bright blue barbells.

'Can I…' I inch my free hand towards the newly revealed jewellery. Dabi doesn't answer, instead he wraps his stupidly long fingers around my wrist and guides my fingers to his skin.

He's warm, the ink etched into his chest gives it a little extra texture when I pass my fingers over it, light as a feather. His piercings are hard but just as warm as the rest of him. I allow myself to catch one of the balls and turn it a little, it goes easily and the whole barbell spins. Dabi shivers.

'Your fingers are cold.' He whispers, a chuckle carrying his words.

'I think you're just warm, Dabi.' I look up, big mistake.

I forgot how close we are standing, so close I can feel it when he breathes. He smells like the coffee he spilled on his t-shirt earlier and hair-spray, which isn't the best combination really. But as established, he's warm, like a space heater. It makes me want to fall into his chest and wrap myself in him like putting on a feather-down coat in winter.

'Something something… Workplace romance…' Dabi mumbles, looking like he's half way through drowning in air.

I stroke over Dabi's nipple, marveling at the unusual feeling of skin and metal in such close proximity. It's weird, now that I think of it, I've always been pulled towards Dabi for reasons unknown, as if he's a magnet and I'm made of iron or something. Sure, he's strange and intimidating at first but really, once you've gotten used to the sarcasm and the tattoos, he's alright. Better than alright, considering how hard my heart's beating. Why the fuck is it trying to escape from the confines of my chest?

'You know what, I don't think I care.' I'm not even sure who said it but a second later our lips are crashing together.

It's a relief, actually, to finally stop dancing around each other, to give in. Dabi's lips are chapped and he tastes of stale chewing gum, he tells me not to touch his hair "'cause it'll take forever to fix" but he happily pulls on mine when I ask him to. We laugh together at how frustrating it is to unbuckle his three different belts.

The last few piercings, those Dabi hadn't yet shared the location of glitter in the low light of the storage room when I take him into my hand. He's warm there too, and inked.

We exit the storage room looking a little too ruffled to be inconspicuous but Rumi will have left by now so it doesn't matter. Toga — another server — starts to complain that we left her with Tomura (who has arrived to help Dabi behind the bar) but takes one look at Dabi's kiss-bruised lips and my poorly concealed love-bite and changes her mind.

[lizziesribbons]

Heyyy I saw your thoughts in best friend's mom!wanda, could I request reader's mom's best friend!wanda who feels conflicted about her attraction towards her best friend's daughter but also can't resist her

Omg this is actually genius I fw this heavy... I'll get onto it the second I am free law school is so time consuming 😭

Edit:

I'll write it now idc I need a break

OKAY SO.. (again red is wanda pink is reader)

Ever since your mom introduced you to her new friend she made at her work you've been crazy about her, her visits to your house were more frequent now since she was basically your mom's bestfriend every week she would come over and you would be in your best fits just wanting to get her attention and you could swear you weren't dreaming, that she actually was attracted to you, you saw her gaze lingering on you from time to time, you saw her checking you out looking you up and down so today when you were both alone in the living room while your mom was cooking in the kitchen you decided to make a move

You move towards her side of the couch scrunching your skirt up a bit watching her face intently as her gaze fell on your thighs

"you look gorgeous today" She says looking at you your faces almost inches away

"yeah? You like the skirt?" you ask her fluttering your lashes

"mhm it looks good on you" she grins and look back at the tv

"thanks" you say in a low voice, both of you watching the TV now

After a few minutes one of her hands come to rest on your thigh running it up and down "you don't think I notice?" she asks you suddenly

"what? Notice um what?" you answer her knowing exactly what she's talking about

"oh you know sweetheart..... I've noticed the short tight skirts you wear around me... The deep tops..... You beg for my attention all the time, you enjoy it don't you? Watching me squirm and itch to touch you? You're cruel..." her hand dangerously close to your core as she grabs your inner thigh softly

You gasp "I- I don't know what you're talking about" you grab her arm and hold it in place

"oh but you do... You know damn well what I'm talking about, you like having my eyes on you all the time and god I enjoy it you're so hot you have no idea how badly I have to hold myself back"

She takes her hand off you suddenly holding your jaw her eyes watching you intently "you're so beautiful God I wanna kiss you" her lips mere inches from you instead she just hugs you and get up from the sofa

"what- where are you going?" you look up at her confused

"your mom probably needs my help um I'll go" she tightly smiles at you and turn around to go in the kitchen

I indeed lost the plot and I have no idea what this is

[screamqueenmacher]

It's A Scream: DILF Edition (Billy Loomis x Reader x Stu Macher)

Part 4 of the links I've prev. posted! (working on a part 5, thanks to an anon). 18+ minors DNI!! Explicit smut lies ahead (spitroasting, edging)

Taboo was the only way to describe it. Actually, it felt more than taboo, to you at least. You were head over heels for Billy Loomis, the father of your current significant other. You knew it was fucked up, but it got worse. You didn't just have a crush. You were actively cheating on your partner with their own father. 

Cheating with one person was bad enough, but Billy had a best friend…and Stu Macher was a catch, too. He wasn't as serious as Billy, but he was just as attractive. Goofier, but still sexy.

Stu stepped into Billy's home office, quickly closing and locking the door behind him. Looking forward, he couldn't help but chuckle at what he saw. 

You were completely naked, hands bound behind your back, sat on Billy's lap, your back to his chest. His cock was buried in your cunt, not moving. However, he was rubbing slow circles on your clit. Your panties had been shoved into your mouth as a gag, and soft whimpers from you filled the room.

“Shit. What if it wasn't me that walked in?” He came closer, rounding the desk to sit on it right in front of you. 

“I knew we were the only ones here. No one else is supposed to be back for hours.” Billy's voice was relaxed, as was his posture. You, however, were wound tight and ready to burst. He'd been edging you for damn near thirty minutes, waiting for his friend to show up.

“Sorry I took so long to get here, doll. I just know Billy's been torturing you while waiting for me.” He had a grin on his face, and you whimpered needily, nodding. Your eyes were pleading, begging him to end your suffering. 

“She can handle it.” Billy scoffed, removing his hand from you once he felt you clenching around him. You groaned, breathing heavily. Stu smirked at you, unbuckling his belt. You could see he was already growing hard in his pants. “I'll take the panties out of your mouth. You know what to do.”

The second he took the panties from your mouth, you took in a deep breath. You knew exactly what to do, it was true. 

“Please, sir, let me suck your cock.” You begged the older man in front of you, mouth watering as he pulled himself free of his pants. You loved when they filled you from both ends like this. 

“Well, since you asked so nicely…” He teased, moving to stand a little closer to you. You leaned forward, knowing Billy would keep you steady, and licked at the head of his cock. 

Billy waited until you took Stu into your mouth partially before he started thrusting. Your eyes rolled back in your head, and you hummed around the cock in your mouth. This is what you've been waiting for. Billy had the patience of a saint, which he wasn't, and hadn't moved inside of you ever since you seated yourself on him.

“Fuck, I love this mouth.” Stu cooed, running a hand through your hair before fisting his hand in it. You whined, bobbing your head before he grew impatient with you. Stu did not have the same patience as his friend. 

“And this tight, little cunt.” Billy grunted, shoving into you with vigor. He held your hip with one hand and your bound hands in the other. 

“World's worst fucking girlfriend. Letting her future father-in-law fuck her like this.” Stu was always mouthy during sex, but you didn't mind. It made your skin hot and nipples ache. You continued to suck his cock with enthusiasm. 

It was quiet, ish, for a while. The sound of skin slapping skin, and heavy, panting breaths were the only sounds filling the office. Occasional moans and grunts fell from the men, and you knew they were getting closer and closer the louder they both got. 

You were also getting closer and closer, and when Billy moved his hand back to your clit, you had to squeeze your eyes shut. You let your jaw hang slack, letting Stu simply fuck your face, your brain growing foggy with pleasure. 

“Aw, poor little thing's gone dumb.” He teased, his hand tugging on your hair until you looked up at him. You whined around him, making him groan. “Fuck, I'm gonna cum.”

“Do it. She'll swallow all of it.” Billy left no room for argument. If you didn't, he wouldn't let you cum.

Stu only had to push himself into your warm mouth a few more times before he was spurting across your tongue. True to Billy's word, you swallowed it all. Mouth empty, you showed proof by sticking your tongue out, mouth hung open so Stu could see. Not a drop was left.

“Goooood fucking girl.” The man praised, patting your cheek. 

Billy pulled you back so your back was pressed to his chest. Your moans were now filling the room freely, loudly. His fingers were harsh on your clit, alternating between rubbing and pinching now. Your legs were shaking, head tossed back against his shoulder, that perfect high so, so close.

You sobbed when you finally fell apart. You'd been built up so much for so long, actual tears escaped you as you came on his cock. You have no idea when he followed suit, brain too mushy and focused on one of the best orgasms you'd ever had. You were breathing heavy, eyes closed as your legs were still jerking in pleasure.