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majimaisms · 10 days ago

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Majima Goro – Disco Elysium Skillsheet

i've been inspired by @violentlydefending (thank you!) to write up a disco elysium style skillsheet for majima. its VERY long and includes a thought cabinet section as well, so be warned. made a disco style portrait for him too

INTELLECT

DECOUPLING: Betray your values. Act against your nature.

COOL FOR: HYPOCRITES, FAMILY MEN, UNDERCOVER AGENTS

Decoupling is your compartmentalization skill. You have separated your identity, your values and your behavior into neat little boxes that don’t touch each other. With Decoupling, you can justify and stick to any plan, say things you don’t mean, and not worry about what any of it says about you. Compromise is the way of this world – if you can’t hack it, you won’t make it. This includes suppressing your own self-interest; Decoupling allows you to negate the Morale damage from not getting what you want, or need.

Low levels of Decoupling will turn you into an indecisive, ineffective idealist. Preoccupied with your need for authenticity, you will be afraid to compromise your values *at all*. You will be stubborn in your methods, and your identity will become a rock you trip on and fall. You will prioritize being consistent above all else, at the cost of success. However, high Decoupling will turn you into a fraud with a devil-may-care attitude. You will be fully aware you’re doing the wrong thing, but it won’t bother you. You will become unable to recognize your own needs. People will struggle to make sense of your decisions as your behavior becomes more and more inconsistent. If you're not careful, you just might lose sight of your soul entirely, like a stray balloon.

RISK MANAGEMENT: Know exactly how and where everything can go wrong. Then prevent it – but only if it’s worth the cost.

COOL FOR: OPPORTUNISTS, GAMBLERS, WORRIERS

Plan, predict, prevent. Risk Management allows you to understand the economy of possibilities. You don’t need to run the numbers; you have a talent for appraising value in this market. With Risk Management, you can easily identify and mitigate risks and, failing that, deal with the fallout using cost-effective methods. It also makes you immune to sunk-cost fallacies… for the most part.

Low levels of Risk Management will have you struggling to imagine different possibilities, future-blind. Having no faith in your ability to deal with risks, you will risk becoming paranoid. High levels, on the other hand, will give you a dangerous sense of infallibility. You will become overconfident in your assessments and ironfisted in your methods to prevent undesirable outcomes. In other words – a control freak.

BUSINESSMAN: Make the line go up. Make bank.

COOL FOR: BREADWINNERS, PENNY PINCHERS, INDENTURED SERVANTS

An undeniably useful skill, Businessman makes you really, really good at turning a profit. You understand what sells and how to sell it, who will buy it, and at what price. You can bring a business about to go bankrupt back from the brink, you know how to make the right investments, and you don’t hesitate to cut your losses. All you have to do is make a little bit of effort.

At low levels, poverty will be an ever-present obstacle, and life will be nigh impossible. The world and its many doors will remain closed to you; opportunities will dwindle, people will desert you. Your career as a yakuza will be short-lived, if it ever starts at all. But when you have high levels of Businessman, money will become an end in itself. Absurdity whirlpools will dominate your life. You will be loaded, but it will come at the cost of sentimentality. You will be surrounded by people who want to be close to you, only to take advantage of you. But hey, I’m sure you could compensate for all that somehow. Where there’s money, there’s a way… or however that saying goes.

LIQUID ASSETS *: Keep your options open. Stay flexible.

COOL FOR: MONEY LAUNDERERS, IMPULSIVE SPENDERS, PEOPLE WITH COMMITMENT ISSUES

Liquid Assets lets you reassign your skill points at crucial moments, effectively enabling you to switch between different builds. Your biggest investment is in yourself, and you are determined to polish yourself into maximum efficiency. But what that efficiency looks like depends on the situation, so you’ve learned to min/max your own abilities. It’s almost like turning off a quarter of your brain only for another to light up. You’ve mastered fluidity. You don’t have *complete* control over your skills, but when the situation calls for it, Liquid Assets will give the option to switch things up a little.

At high levels, you will be unable to hold onto any currency you can spend. Cash will burn a hole in your pocket, and the maximum amount of unused skill points you can hoard will reduce dramatically. You will become prone to splurging, urged on by a compulsive and persistent need to empty your pockets *now*. At low levels, however, you will cling to anything you have left in an attempt to hold onto them. You will be afraid to take financial risks or invest in anything, or anyone. You will simply have too much to lose. This will make you conservative with your spending, but it won’t end there. Don’t expect to be able to keep up with a changing world when you are too preoccupied with trying to preserve the things you already have.

PSYCHE

SHEDDING: Change your skin. Cycle through masks.

COOL FOR: FUGITIVES, PROFESSIONAL ESCORTS, METHOD ACTORS

Shedding functions as a way to craft and adopt different identities. Your accent, looks, mannerisms, inflection, clothes, demeanor – these things are nothing more than means to an end for you, and can be modified to adapt to any situation. Shedding is the skill that allows you to change tactics as you navigate society, seamlessly switching between characters like putting on different hats. From patriarch to pirate captain, cabaret manager to hostess, idol to construction company owner, role after role becomes you.

With a low Shedding skill, you will be inflexible and awkward. Change will scare you. You will be unable to commit to any role, any bit, and fail to deliver a convincing performance even when you try. Your ability to see things from different perspectives will suffer, and you will have a harder time understanding others. This will lead to difficulties in dealing with friend and foe alike. At high levels you will be a master shapeshifter, but a concrete identity will elude you. You will run the risk of getting trapped under the weight of all that dead skin. Be careful that you slough off your old skin all the way, or what was originally underneath may never see the light of day again. You may need the help of another person, preferably someone who really knows you… if that's even possible.

BLACK RIVER: Obscure your intentions. Stay in motion.

COOL FOR: CULT LEADERS, HUMAN ENIGMAS, THE ROOTLESS

Black River is a pathfinding skill for navigating dreams and desires. It makes you a force of nature through sheer willpower. You can and *will* do anything it takes to reach your goals. You just don’t know how to quit. This gives you a magnetic quality that draws people in, and inspires obsession and devotion in equal parts. People can’t help but get caught up in you, ready to follow you wherever you lead. But you are a river that runs underground; you cannot be seen or heard. Your motivations are opaque to everyone but you. To follow you, people must learn to read signs and symbols – a self-selection mechanism that produces highly dedicated followers.

At low levels, you will be adrift and aimless. With nothing to work towards, you will stagnate. You will try and hold onto anything that has momentum in hopes it might get you moving, no matter how pointless or out of reach it may seem. Life, for the most part, will just pass you by. At high levels, that drive to achieve your goals will consume your every waking moment, and failure will bring out the worst in you. You will be incredibly charismatic, but seeing nothing except the horizon, you will struggle to stay grounded. Unmoored and unable to come down, you will suffer from motion sickness and have no choice but to keep moving unless you find something, *someone* to tie yourself down to. However, because your intentions remain indecipherable to everyone, you will find yourself lacking in anchors.

MOXIE: Give yourself pep talks. Get to the top.

COOL FOR: CHEERLEADERS, GO-GETTERS, INCURABLE OPTIMISTS

You’ve got Moxie, baby. Nerve, guts, determination – you know you’ve got what it takes to make it in this world. You can talk yourself into taking on any challenge, and push past any failure to try again, and again, and again. And people love you for it. Your vigor and courage are contagious. You lift people up and inspire them. Moxie gives you the ability to heal Morale for yourself and others, and acts as your Morale pool.

Without Moxie, you will struggle to keep going after life has knocked you down. You will be insecure in your ability to succeed, afraid to take risks and embarrass yourself. Too much Moxie has the opposite effect. You will be desperate to put yourself out there, to prove yourself, and never learn. People will watch you with morbid curiosity, like a trainwreck they can’t look away from.

TIGHTROPE: Indulge in pure escapism. Don’t look down.

COOL FOR: VESTIGIAL SHAMANS, ILLUSIONISTS, SLEEPWALKERS

Tightrope allows you to go through life as if it were a dreamscape, where anything and everything is possible. You are an expert storyteller, and your primary audience is *you*. Tightrope permits you to lie to yourself, to buy into your own fictions. You can fit any series of events into a narrative that makes it more interesting or convenient for you. All you have to do is keep the fantasy going; keep walking and keep your balance. This skill is especially useful for dealing with highly stressful situations, and can be used to protect against Morale damage.

At high levels, Tightrope will have you playing hide and seek with reality. You will lose yourself in blissful ignorance and have a great time doing it, but the consequences may be dire. Gravity is an uncompromising teacher; the comedown will be painful. The Morale damage you negate in the short term will come back to bite you in the ass later – expect heavy Morale losses. It will also make you completely opaque to yourself as you go to great lengths to avoid doing *any* self-reflection. However, low Tightrope will make life a total slog. You will be susceptible to depression and substance abuse, seeking stimulation through other means, just trying to make it bearable. Seeing life only as it is and not as it should be, you will be extra vulnerable to Morale damage and struggle to keep your sanity.

DIAMOND HEART: Don’t break. Stay vigilant.

COOL FOR: SUPERHEROES, SURVIVORS, IDEALISTS

Life is an unending series of horrors, and Diamond Heart is your last bastion against the meaninglessness of it all. It enables you to absorb the blows life throws at you, and learn the right lessons from them. It’s what reminds you not to lose sight of what’s important as the world pushes your limits, over and over. It is spiritual endurance. Regardless of how bleak the situation you find yourself in becomes, Diamond Heart shows you the right thing to do, acting as your moral compass. Pressure brings out the best in you; you shine brighter the darker it gets, and set an example for others to look to.

Low levels of Diamond Heart will make you cynical, pessimistic and uncharitable towards the world and its people. You will become depressed and isolated, and constantly look to others for guidance. At high levels, you will appear mad to most people around you. Cynics and skeptics will accuse you of “not understanding how the world works”, of being spoiled, sheltered, or even stupid, but you won’t pay it any mind. This will lead you to take massive risks for the sake of doing good – be careful that you’re equipped to deal with failure, or make sure you’re going to succeed.

NURTURING: Understand reward and punishment. Help people reach their full potential.

COOL FOR: SCHOOL TEACHERS, PERSONAL TRAINERS, PATRIARCHS

Nurturing is your skill for teaching, mentoring and training people. You see *possibilities* in everything, and people are no exception. You have a guiding instinct that draws you to roles where you have direct influence over a person’s development, and an inclination to play mentor to anyone you meet. Whether you choose to hammer them into shape or take a softer approach, Nurturing is the skill you use to forge people into the best they can be.

At high levels, Nurturing will make you a master of operant conditioning. You will be able to make legendary fighters out of street brawlers, obedient subordinates out of the most rebellious punks, and #1 hostesses out of awkward, flat-chested wallflowers. But you will risk becoming overly protective and coddling, having to constantly fight the urge to go easy on people. However, low Nurturing will turn you into a tyrant of a teacher as you rely entirely on negative reinforcement. You will be violent and uncompromising in your methods, preferring to employ a sink-or-swim strategy, and it will only get your students so far – the ones that make it through their training, anyway.

PHYSIQUE

DEMONFIRE: Tap into raw physical power. Unleash your inner demon.

COOL FOR: SADISTS, JILTED LOVERS, THE CRIMINALLY INSANE

Demonfire allows you to *force* your will on the world in the only way that is guaranteed to work: violence. It is your go-to skill for *hurting* people – your primary combat skill, in more technical terms. Bats, blades or just your bare fists: choose your instrument of pain and go all out. Bash skulls in, send teeth flying, and stab-stab-stab your opponents until they fall. There’s something within you that just can’t get enough, and she demands to be let loose.

At high levels, Demonfire will make you practically unbeatable. People will be simultaneously afraid and in awe of your martial prowess. Your legend will precede you. But you will risk being controlled by your own bloodlust, struggling to stay moderate in your violence. You will not only *take* every opportunity to beat people up, you will start to create *new* ones. At low levels, however, you will be too weak to even swing your fist. Even the most pathetic punks will beat your ass in a fight. You will be unable to fight for the things you believe in, or protect the people you care about. You will be powerless.

PLAYMATE: Talk with your fists. Get to know people another way.

COOL FOR: BROTHERS, PACK ANIMALS, FERAL CHILDREN

A necessary skill for any yakuza, Playmate is used to gain information about someone through fighting them. It can be thought of as a social skill, utilized the same way any other language would be: self expression, discussion, building connections. With Playmate, a fight to the death can be a bonding activity or an efficient way to learn things about someone, to help you understand what drives them.

High levels of Playmate will make you overly antagonistic. You will rely solely on fighting to build and maintain relations, and you will seem needlessly hostile to everyone around you. Emotional closeness will not be a defining feature of your relationships. At low levels, you will be unable to find any joy in fighting your loved ones. You will be forced to rely almost entirely on verbal communication to understand each other; something that can be time consuming, and cause for many dead ends as you attempt to resolve your interpersonal problems using words.

RAZOR’S EDGE: Refuse to take orders. Spit in the face of danger.

COOL FOR: MASOCHISTS, ADRENALINE JUNKIES, HORROR FANS

Something has gone badly wrong with you. The wires in your poor, traumatized nervous system are all jumbled up. You can no longer tell the difference between fear and excitement – if you ever could in the first place. Razor’s Edge allows you to suppress your natural fear response, and makes you effectively immune to intimidation. You simply do not think to negotiate with pain. You are not scared off by threats of bodily harm. In fact, you get a kick out of it. This makes you both difficult to control and unpredictable, willing to take risks most wouldn’t. At the same time, it lets you stay sharp, on the edge, where you need to be.

Without Razor’s Edge, you'll be questioning whether or not it’s worth it to push back. Staying quiet and letting people have their way with you will seem easier. But if you take it, they'll give it. At high levels, Razor’s Edge will make you brash and arrogant. Seeking thrills, you will become reckless to the point of seeing your life – and others’ – as something for you to toy with. Don't expect others to take kindly to this, though. Most people care about living to see the next day.

COMPETITIVE STREAK: Go the extra mile. Push your limits.

COOL FOR: OLYMPIC ATHLETES, #1 HOSTESSES, WINNERS

There is a constant and deafening voice in your head that tells you to *do more* and *be better*. To beat everyone at their own game. And your longest-standing opponent? Yourself. More specifically, yourself from one minute ago. That guy is old news. You can do better, beat your own record. Competitive Streak is your drive for self improvement. It allows you to identify and create situations you can gain experience from. It effectively offers a way to *grind* for that sweet, sweet XP.

At high levels, power dynamics will rule your life. People will find you intense and off-putting as you turn even the smallest interactions into something that is possible to win or lose, and you will burn yourself out trying to outdo them all. But low Competitive Streak will make you a sore loser. Or worse, a *killjoy*. You don’t want to be a killjoy, do you? *Nobody* likes a killjoy. Not even the people that nobody else likes. Not even *other* killjoys. One way or the other, a healthy dose of competitiveness is required to avoid becoming insufferable. Just make sure you don’t push your limits beyond repair.

LIVING ORGANISM: Be an animal. Trust your instincts.

COOL FOR: BODYBUILDERS, SOOTHSAYERS, HEALTH FREAKS

Your body is an animal, and Living Organism is your connection to it. Like any animal handler, you know what it needs, how to keep it healthy, and how to make it useful. You can train it, feed it, take care of it, and it will repay you in kind. It has access to wisdom that you don't, and it knows what you need and how to provide it. Listen to it, and you will come out on top.

At high levels, you will develop a seemingly uncanny ability to predict events as you rely on your gut feelings to guide your actions. However, you will become preoccupied with your health to the point of neurosis. Strict about your diet and excessively worried about *symptoms*, you will be prone to disordered eating and regular full body check-ups will become a staple in your life. Naturally, the time and effort spent on your body will lead to vanity as well. At low levels, you will disregard your body’s needs altogether. The animal will seek revenge on you for the years of neglect, payback for the poor treatment you've subjected it to. Aches and pains are only the beginning of the debilitation. You will be in a constant battle with your body, working against it instead of with it.

ENDURANCE

MOTORICS

SHOWTIME: Live your life as performance art. Captivate your audience.

COOL FOR: POP-STAR SENSATIONS, THEATRE KIDS, KARAOKE ENTHUSIASTS

Dance. Move. Feel the rhythm and lose yourself in it. Sing your heart out. Pull crazy stunts for shock value. Do cartwheels and backflips. Confuse and dazzle onlookers. Cause distractions. Command attention. The world is your dance floor – Showtime allows you to utilize this fact to its fullest potential, and have fun doing it.

High levels of Showtime will make you unable to *stop* performing; even when you have no audience, even when you are completely alone. The show must go on *indefinitely*. Your entire life will be a bit, an inside joke you share only with yourself, and nobody will be laughing. With low levels, though, you won't be able to draw anybody's attention to save your life. Or worse, you will draw the wrong *kind* of crowd. Attention – there’s unwanted kinds.

DISTAL PRECISION: Know exactly where you're striking. Maim, but don't kill.

COOL FOR: ACROBATS, MARTIAL ARTISTS, THE PASSIVELY AGGRESSIVE

Distal Precision makes you a master of self-restraint in combat. It’s your spatial awareness and motor control skill. It allows you to have precise control of your movements, right down to every minute twitch of your muscles, and gives you a perfect sense of your reach. It enables you to execute complicated maneuvers with proficiency, strike with everything you’ve got and stop just millimeters short of your mark, or gauge the exact distance between you and the edge of the rooftop overlooking a 100m drop. It’s a skill any fighter needs.

At high levels, Distal Precision will make you unable to rely on muscle memory. You will be deliberate in your every movement, too preoccupied with precision to enter a flowstate. It will significantly impede your fun, and your performance will suffer as your movement becomes stilted. Expect particularly catastrophic Red Check failures at low levels, though. With poor control over your movement, you will find it much, much easier to fatally wound someone without meaning to. Human bodies are more fragile than they seem, including your own; low Distal Precision will have you flinging yourself at walls instead of opponents, aiming for the wrong body parts, or leaving yourself open in ways that might prove fatal for *you*.

PEOPLE WATCHING: Observe human behavior. Understand social culture.

COOL FOR: TALENT SCOUTS, WRITERS, MARKETING AGENTS

People Watching is the skill you use to observe and recognize patterns in human behavior; your ability to make connections between disposition, cultural background and presentation. You know who likes and dislikes what, who gets bullied and who becomes popular, even if you don’t always understand *why*. But that’s not important here – People Watching mainly serves as a way to glean a lot of information about a person from just a glance. It helps you notice details about people that most wouldn’t, and ensures you draw the right conclusions, letting you do things like: single out the richest person in a room, clock closet-cases, or correctly infer someone’s hometown from a brief conversation

At high levels, you will be able to play the social game effortlessly. You will be in-tune with stereotypes most people have never even heard of, knowledgeable about people from all walks of life. But you will find yourself too preoccupied with other people, neglecting to consider how *you* fit into society. You will be a permanent outsider, unable to truly belong in any group. With low People Watching, however, you will be navigating society without speaking its language of style and presentation. You will be oblivious to cues that most pick up on effortlessly. You will live your life on this earth like an alien, indefinitely culture-shocked, an outsider of a different kind.

COMPOSURE

REACTION SPEED

THOUGHT CABINET

MY BROTHER'S MAN

Problem: You are outside a warehouse as Shibata explains to you that you have no choice but to betray your brother. You refuse to understand. Then choice is taken from you, but only because you allowed it to happen. Your only brother is in prison on death row, and you are not. This was not how it was supposed to go.

Solution: You swore an oath, and the price of betrayal is death. Saejima will never get back the years of his life that he lost. It’s only fair that yours gets cut short. In the meantime, try to make up for it anyway. Loyalty – it's supposed to mean something.

+4 Black River: Feel the half that is missing +4 Razor’s Edge: Nothing to lose -1 to all skills when separated from your bonded pair To forget this thought, you have to forget all of them

LONG DEAD ANIMAL

Problem: You've been ready to die since the day you swore your oath. You’ve erased your past, and you’ve got no future. You’re not interested in having one, either. This makes it difficult to give a shit about… well, anything. It’s no way to live.

Solution: Life is just a consecutive series of days where you are cheating death, and dying early is just part of the deal for yakuza. But with the way you've been living, you may as well already be dead. The sooner you make peace with this, the easier it will be to focus on the work that needs to be done. On the upside, you can incorporate this into your fashion for a *really* cool style. It will act as a reminder.

+1 Composure: Taxidermied +1 Reaction Speed: Moments have consequences +1 Health for each item of clothing you are wearing that's made of leather +1 Shedding if you’re wearing 3 or more items of leather clothing -1 Living Organism: It doesn’t feel like living

LOOKING-GLASS SELF

Problem: You don’t relate to your peers. Not in the way they relate to each other. And they don’t understand you, either. At least not the way you understand yourself. How are you going to bridge the gap?

Solution: According to some sociologists, individuals develop their concept of self by observing how they are perceived by others, a concept Cooley coined as the “looking-glass self.” You’ve not only mastered this ability, but your self worth has miraculously remained unaffected. Congratulations! You are now a full person. At least in the eyes of others. As far as your need for authenticity is concerned, though, you’ve simply given up on such things. Oh, and be prepared to have a really complicated relationship with mirrors – whether they’re made of glass, or flesh and bone.

+3 Shedding: Mask to survive +3 Decoupling: Lost cause +1 Composure: Live behind your eyelids +1 People Watching: Watch and learn Prerequisite for 24-HOUR CINDERELLA

NEWTONIAN MECHANICS

Problem: You did not have the *happiest* childhood (really, it was very, very far from being happy – we’re talking, like, *light years* away) but it’s part of what made you who you are. You may be damaged goods, but hard times have also taught you some valuable lessons. You’ve learned not to take anything for granted, and that you can’t afford to ignore *reality*. Life is short – and you know how to appreciate it. But above all, your childhood has made you *kind* – you have a relentless drive to protect and defend the weak. But courage alone isn’t enough. There’s more to the story.

Solution: “A body remains at rest, or in motion at a constant speed in a straight line, unless it is acted upon by a force.” This is true of all bodies, including human ones. Force is the language of this reality, and violence is the way of this world. At the end of the day, all power boils down to your capacity to inflict physical harm on another person. Forcing your will upon people is forcing your will upon the world. And you are determined to use your power for good, but you must first *acquire* it. That’s right – you have to get *strong*. Really, really strong. In fact, you have to be the strongest guy around. There’s no way around it, it’s the only way to keep your loved ones safe. You need to be able to generate force, or you will be a null factor in this universe, unable to help anybody when it really counts.

Demonfire learning cap raised by 5 +3 Competitive Streak: Moral imperative +3 Razor’s Edge: The fear has been beaten out of you +3 Endurance: You can take it

HYPER-COMBATIVE LIVING

Problem: The world of yakuza is one where people only respect brute strength and authority. You’ve got your fair share of issues with the latter, but you have to admit, it’s a little *unstylish* to rely entirely on the former. There are cleverer, more sophisticated ways to solve problems. Diplomacy and compromise should not be *entirely* out of the question… right?

Solution: Life is too short not to solve your problems using violence. Besides, who said violence wasn’t stylish? Violence is cool. Red hot, sparks flying *cool*. And you can make it even cooler. By making it your whole *thing*. Diplomacy and compromise are boooring. Problems need solutions, and violence is a one-size-fits-all solution that has not failed you yet. You can forget about romance or tenderness, though.

+3 Demonfire: No holds barred +2 Playmate: Howling forever -3 Businessman: Doing business honest man style is tedious -2 Diamond Heart: Play the antagonist

LORD OF THE NIGHT

Problem: The nightmares are the easy part. The year you spent in that place *did* something to you. Okay, it did *a lot* of things. Honestly, even you're not sure about the extent of the damage. I'm talking about *psychological damage*, boyo. Not just to your mind, not just to your spirit, but to your *pride*. Your dignity has been stripped away, pissed on, and left to rot in that cell. There has to be some way to get it back.

Solution: Good news! There *is* a dignified way to deal with indignity – a way to handle it with grace. And you've found it. Okay, are you ready? It's about *consent*. That’s right. If you volunteer to the daily stripping of your dignity, you can, in fact, retain some of it. Enough of it. Enough to keep your head up – look people in the eye, look at yourself in the mirror. All that good stuff. So why not embrace it? Just stop fighting it. It's not like you have a choice, anyway.

+6 Composure: The customer is king +6 Businessman: No time to waste -6 Razor’s Edge: Orders are absolute -6 Living Organism: Broken and battered Prerequisite to unlock MAD DOG OF SHIMANO

MAD DOG OF SHIMANO

Problem: Her small hand between yours as you bow your head in silent prayer: Please, please let her live. If she doesn't, you will have failed her forever. It will be your fault that she's dead, and you will have to live with the knowledge that she died because of the organization you've dedicated your life to. How did it get to this? How will you prevent it from happening again? And most importantly, how are you going to go back to the clan after this?

Solution: The people who put her life in danger make up the majority of the world's population. Life is cruel and stupid, and nobody around seems to be able to tell the difference between right and wrong. So what’s the point of doing the right thing? Go back to the clan. Climb the ranks. Do whatever it takes. Nobody gives a shit, least of all you.

Decoupling learning cap raised by 5 +3 Demonfire: Let her loose +3 Decoupling: Don’t think about what Saejima would have to say about it +2 Reaction Speed: Guard dog -1 Razor’s Edge: You still have nightmares about Shimano -1 Diamond Heart: It doesn’t make any difference Internalizing this thought will make you forget LORD OF THE NIGHT

UNIVERSAL GRAVITATION

Problem: You have to kill Dojima Sohei. If you don’t, she will be in danger her whole life. You can’t kill Dojima Sohei. If you do, she will feel indebted to you her whole life. Sera offers you a way out of this conundrum – he has the money and power to do so. But you won’t always be so lucky. A more readily available solution is required.

Solution: You were put to that impossible choice in 1988 not only because you cared about Makoto, but because she also cared about *you*. This is the trick, the principle that underlies all human connection: it goes both ways. Everyone feels the need to trust and be trusted, to provide and be provided for, to love and be loved. People aren’t selfish; sacrificing yourself for your loved ones won’t make them happy. Everything that hurts you will also hurt *them* – such is the nature of love. However, none of this changes the fact that sacrifices are necessary, and you are more than happy to be the one making them. The only way to circumvent this problem, then, is to do it without anyone noticing. As long as no one *knows* you’re making sacrifices, you can keep doing it without anyone feeling indebted to you.

+3 Nurturing: Protect the weak +3 Black River: Stealth aid +3 Endurance: Stay alive for their sake

21ST CENTURY SCHIZOID MAN

Problem: Your reflection stares back at you in the cold steel blade of your tanto as a blind girl clings to your legs. Your hair pulled back, cheeks gaunt and gaze distant, you are a ghost. Almost two decades later, Shimano’s dead and you’re the head of your own subsidiary. You’re going to turn in your tanto in a couple months when you disband your family. The echoes of your past trapped in that steel will be locked away in the treasury at Tojo HQ, and you will lose the sharpest mirror you’ve ever had. What has it all been for? What the hell have you been doing with your life *really*, this whole time? Have you done any lasting good in this world?

Solution: The world is sick, too sick for anyone to save it, and it’s difficult to love a dying thing. All the rape and murder and hunger in the world will not go away because you want it to, and there’s nothing you can do about it. But forget saving it, you’ve been actively contributing to its worsening condition since the day you swore your oath. Becoming a civilian now won’t change that. This shit is in your blood, there’s no other life for you. The world is what it is, and you have to adapt to survive. There is no point in arguing with facts. Trying to save *everyone* is a lost cause, and you have to pick your battles. It’s simply the *smart* thing to do.

+2 to all INT skills +1 Tightrope: Keep your eyes closed +1 Showtime: Have some fun while you can -2 Diamond Heart: Callous

YAKUZA FOR A BETTER PLANET

Problem: Shimano’s new favorite subject to harp on seems to be *climate change*. You’re not even sure what that is, but all this talk of greenhouse gases and dioxides is getting to you. Maybe it’s time to get on board with this whole *sustainability* business. You could be the first yakuza to ever become an environmental activist. A *trailblazer*…

Solution: Wake up! The planet needs you. Glaciers are melting, animals are going extinct, and all those CO₂ emissions are absolutely *destroying* the ozone layer. You may have been ignorant until now, but there is no time to waste. It’s time to take responsibility – and it all starts with *recycling*. Separating your trash is a man’s civic duty! That’s right, this is about *individual responsibility*. Get on it, and while you’re at it, get everybody else on it, too. Plus, it makes for a really good excuse to beat people up.

+1 Reaction Speed: On the lookout for litterers +1 Competitive Streak: Reduce your carbon footprint +1 Tightrope: Pollution stops with you!

A DOZEN WINTERS OF LONELINESS

Problem: It feels like it stretches out into eternity, this emptiness within you. It was not left by anyone or anything in particular, as far as you can tell. And it seems to *intensify* at night. But that’s the extent of your understanding of it. All you have are half-remembered nights in your memory to flip through like a scrapbook when the feeling paralyzes you again. On good days you pass out on the couch watching a nature documentary or some horror flick. On bad days it makes you want to curl up and die. Is there no end to it?

Solution: No. Learn to live with it.

+1 Risk Management: No one looking out for you +1 Decoupling: Easier to betray yourself +1 Composure: Bottle it up -1 Diamond Heart: A dozen summers against the world -1 Tightrope: Alcohol helps in ways you can’t help yourself -1 Living Organism: Starving animal

ONCE UPON A TIME

Problem: You filed the divorce papers yourself immediately after you left the apartment. The first thing you did was take the gloves off. It was stupid of you to try, to think this could ever work out. You will never be a father. The taste of bile in the back of your throat is almost drowned out by the cigarette smoke as you sit with your increasing shame. You fucked up, slim. You fucked up *big time*.

Solution: Dreams. Memories. The past. You are a chain of ill-defined disappointments. There's a lot you didn't get to do, and a lot you never will. You may have given up on your dreams, but that just gives you more room to take on others’. The story isn’t over yet.

Distal Precision learning cap raised by 3 +2 Distal Precision: You have to be more careful -1 Demonfire: You scare yourself -1 Moxie: You only get one shot at some things -1 Tightrope: Reality check

BUTTERFLY DANCING IN THE NIGHT

Problem: Kiryu won’t fight you. More accurately, Kiryu won’t fight you *unless* you manage to really, really piss him off. This is harder to pull off than you initially thought. If there’s one thing about men, though, it’s that they never fail to get irrationally angry where *women* are concerned. And it’s never for the right reasons. There *has* to be a way to use this against Kiryu. You just have to think outside the box.

Solution: The most perfect of all solutions has appeared to you in the form of a cabaret girl – and she’s right there in the mirror. Goromi is your ticket to a *guaranteed* fight with Kiryu. There’s not a man on this earth who wouldn’t be furious to have her as his hostess, and this is your opportunity to make them pay. Just try not to question why this particular role comes so naturally to you, or why it feels so good.

+2 Demonfire: Righteous anger +2 Showtime: Make everybody happy -1 Shedding: Comfortable in your skin

24-HOUR CINDERELLA

Problem: You wake up, wash your face, take an aspirin for your headache. You look in the mirror and the thing that stares back at you is the same every day. You think this is normal. What isn't normal is the fact that it feels like looking at someone else. How did you lose track of who you are? When did it happen? What does it even *mean* to be a person? Does it even matter?

Solution: You are, at any given time, whatever you happen to be in that exact moment. There are no lasting states of being. Self in motion. Identity is a scam; all we have is the shifting, tangled mess of desires, intentions and dreams. The only thing that matters is what you *do*, and as long as you can do whatever you want, you can *be* whatever you want.

Shedding learning cap raised by 5 +2 Showtime: All that jazz is bullshit +2 Tightrope if you also have ONCE UPON A TIME internalized +1 Decoupling: It doesn't say anything about who you are +1 Razor’s Edge: Freedom of choice is everything

METAXÚ

Problem: So many have gone from your life. Left, lost, died. A lifetime of mourning would not cut it – you would need several. You could miss them every second of every day and it would not be enough. You are in pieces. How many more will leave you? To say nothing of the lives *you* have left. How many people have a you-shaped hole in their lives? How many more will *you* leave?

Solution: Every separation is a link. Weil wrote, “Two prisoners whose cells adjoin communicate with each other by knocking on the wall. The wall is the thing which separates them but it is also their means of communication.” So it is with everyone you’ve ever been separated from. Presence in absence. Communication in silence. Love in grief. Connection in separation.

The following skill pairs will level up together (only applies when using skill points to level up, does not apply retroactively): Demonfire & Distal Precision, Risk Management & Razor’s Edge, Decoupling & Diamond Heart, Liquid Assets & Black River -1 Tightrope: Acceptance

VOID JANITOR

Problem: Kashiwagi is dead, and now there is no one left in Kamurocho. In fact, there is *nothing* left in Kamurocho. The Tojo is a dying thing, and everyone you care about is gone. They've left you here to take care of things in their absence. To janitor the emptiness. Sometimes you want to join them. Leave Kamurocho, leave the clan, leave this world, leave it all behind. There is no joy here. There is *nothing*. Why are you still around?

Solution: Your number isn’t up yet, and you’ve got time to kill. You might as well start mopping floors and taking out trash. Make yourself useful, one way or another. Plus, someone still needs to look after Daigo. You’ve done less than a bang-up job in that department so far, to say the least. It’s time to get to work.

+1 Nurturing: Your responsibility now +1 Black River: There’s some use for you yet -3 Showtime: No audience -2 Tightrope: Reached the end of the rope

THE GREAT MAW

Problem: The abyss. The darkness. The great maw of the void, the one that will swallow you and everyone in the world whole if you let it. I’m talking about *cynicism.* How will you ward against its siren call? Its threat is ever-present, and its song is deafening. With the life you’ve led… *can* you even resist it?

Solution: Yes you can. You resist it one day at a time. By deciding, every single day, that today will not be the day you give into it. You can’t cut corners here. This is too important for that. You have to give it your all, and it *will* take everything you have in you. You will never not need to stop reminding yourself of what's at stake. And it will get exhausting. Hope is vital, and there is precious little of it to be found. Hold onto it.

Diamond Heart learning cap raised by 5 Decoupling Red Check failures can be retried at the cost of all of your Morale but if you fail again, you get a permanent -1 Diamond Heart and your Diamond Heart learning cap is reduced by 1

WASHED-UP YAKUZA

Problem: You woke up on a beach with no memories. You know nothing about your past, except for what you can glean from your appearance and your muscle memory. None of it bodes particularly well for your karmic debt. If you’re being honest, you don’t really *want* to remember any of it. And who’s this Saejima guy everyone keeps talking about?

Solution: Actually, this feels pretty good. It’s kinda like being reborn. And you can really get behind this whole pirate thing. You’re having a ton of fun. Fuck being a yakuza, that shit blows. Saejima can deal.

+10 Diamond Heart: Captain Majima is a man of his word +10 Moxie: Blissful ignorance +10 Black River: Stars in Noah’s eyes +10 Tightrope: Worry about it later -10 Shedding: Lost your jacket to the sea -10 Decoupling: Reunited with your soul -10 Liquid Assets: Starting from scratch -2 Reaction Speed: Blunt fangs This thought can only be internalized if you have no other thoughts internalized (except HEART OF THE DRAGON) You cannot internalize any other thoughts while researching WASHED UP YAKUZA

HEART OF THE DRAGON

Problem: This is one of your favorite legends. It's about a guy who just can't give up, and inspires others to keep going. He's had a hard life. Someone needs to make up for this. But it is an unrepayable debt that the world owes him, and you are only one person. Who is going to make this right? How?

Solution: He is a better man than you ever will be. And maybe, just maybe, if you try, you can be a little more like him. But that is not enough. You have to save him; from the world and from himself, as many times as it takes. Over and over and over. If you don’t, who will? And by doing this one thing right, you might even be able to hope to begin to atone for your own mistakes.

Diamond Heart learning cap raised by 5 +1 Black River: Something to do +1 Diamond Heart: True north +1 Nurturing: Live up to the legend +1 Competitive Streak: If he can do it, so can you +1 Playmate: Wolf like me This thought cannot be forgotten

#yakuza #majima goro #disco elysium #yes im putting this in the disco tag.... sorry...#i might end up writing a scene from one of the games as a little writing exercise using this skillsheet btw #like in the disco elysium writing format #my writing #elysium #this took WAY too long to edit btw. jesus christ #im happy to be done with it #also. theres a TON of references in this #movies tv shows lyrics. etc #in true disco elysium fashion #i also had. more thought ideas but. i cant. i cant #maybe ill add stuff over time...#also thankkkkkkk u ada for beta reading this holy shit

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sea-salted-wolverine · 11 months ago

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I'm violently obsessed with the salmon plushie, is there absolutely any way we could get even a very rough pattern? Like rough ideas of shapes/sizes/placements? It wouldn't have to be super detailed, or even complete, I'm mostly interested in how you did the head/jaw and fins. I would be willing to pay you for it. You are the BEST auntie ever!!!! 🐟💗

@benevolentbirdgal you asked something similar i just haven't got around to answering

I have had people in real life ask for a pattern of how I did this and unfortunately I don't even know how to read/follow a pattern much less write/arrange/format one. If you scroll back through my blog a bit you can find all the progress pictures, they should all be tagged with both #plushie and #neice creature.

I suppose if you wanted a write up of the process it would go something like this.

Step one, become intimately acquainted with fish. Be born in a place where a large chunk of the state charter is about fishing rights. Go to kindergarten in a place where they not only teach kids about every phase of the life cycle but also raise salmon fry in classroom aquariums. Catch and clean alot of fish, like alot, like get up into the thousands. Become so quick and efficient at cleaning fish that tourists stop to watch you and people ask for lessons and knife sharpening.

Step two, now that you have the anatomy of a salmon ingrained into the fibers of your soul, just, draw one in its entirety on the inside of a pair of jeans that never fit. Make it half size, for baby hands, about the size of a trout. I literally never put a ruler anywhere near this thing, but like, 12-14 inches tip to tail.

Step three, make the pectoral, pelvic, anal, and dorsal fins as well as the caudal fin(tail). Make vague plans about the adipose fin and then give up and ignore it because no one cares about the adipose fin, including the fish themselves. Turn all the fins right-side out and stitch their rays on, giving them a little bit of structure and shape. Get to the tail fin and realize you are not stitching 20 fin rays on there and find a happy medium between accuracy and ease.

Step four. Fuck. Fish are hollow. The whole point of cleaning a fish is to cut it into lots of little pieces, some of which you eat and some of which you discard, which is not something you want of a child's toy. You could. But you don't want whoever is cleaning up after this toddler to run around picking up lil fishy organs. Rethink the way you filet a fish. Cringe at the thought that the most efficient way to make this plush is the least efficient way to filet a fish.

The filets themselves are easy, or at least, they're easy if you've done step one. It's an oblong shape with the belly color stitched directly to the denim, about the width of a hand. The meat is a safety orange tee-shirt that is now a crop top (insert long rant about the correct color of sockeye salmon meat here. It should not be fucking pink. Do not let anyone tell you it should be pink.) Stitch everything inside out and turn the seams in, then stuff them with shredded tee-shirt scraps because batting and stuffing is for people who can plan projects before they do them.

Step five, carcass. The dorsal fin gets seamed between a pair of denim strips to make the back. The adipose fin is a useful reference point for the locations of everything else but I couldn't figure out how to get the seams to work the way I wanted them so I ignored the adipose fin. Rip. The meat color gets seamed to the back and then the belly color to make a funky looking tube shape with fins sticking out. There was some finagling to make the fins sit in the places I wanted them to but everything sits in a seam except the anal fin which was easy enough to shove in a dart.

Step six, fishheads. Uhh, okay, there's how I did it and then there's how I would do it again. What I did was make a head out of a single piece of denim with some darts to make it the shape I wanted. Then I made the gills a sort of half moon shaped pocket with a redish pink color and seamed the pectoral fins in where the red met the orange. The jaw was a stuffed tongue of material attached to the belly and inside of the mouth, which is when realized I forgot to stuff the body. I do like how I stuffed the body because I took 6 layers of tee-shirt material tacked together in the vague shape of a fish and crammed it inside so it laid flat. It held more structural shape without being rigid or puffy. If I could have remembered to do that before I stitched everything close it would have been ideal.

If I was gonna do it over I would have made the head hollow and lined it with the red gill color and made the jaw a continuation of the belly so there would be an opening all the way through. I would also add some gill frills and fill them with rigid plastic to maintain the structure. I would also rearrange the pectoral fins to seam them in right behind the gills rather than below them.

Eyeballs this time around were buttons and finding sew on eyeballs is harder than I thought it would be but thats the obvious upgrade.

Guts were just a simple blob hand-sewn on, but with a bit more planning, I could actually do a digestive tract gas bladder, liver and roe sac. If I was gonna get that in depth I would rearrange the piecing order to have correctly fileted belly, so it would better explain how to harvest roe and belly meat. Plus as long as I was planning things rather than just slapping things together I would do some quick machine embroidery for muscle separations and a midline on the scales, mostly to make it pretty but also as a reference and indication of musculature.

Oh. Step six, the damn Velcro. Every craft store in Alaska is out of Velcro at the moment. Okay, maybe not every single one but all of them in between Fairbanks and Anchorage. And Home Depot. I found the stuff to stick on walls at Lowes which did not work nearly as well as I hoped it would. I had to force the needle through by bracing it against the floor and forcing the plush down on top of it. Forget a thimble, I was considering pliers. I was rushing (and also finishing it at my moms house) by the time I got to this part but I would get more creative and cut it into a shape more reminiscent of a spine next time.

I was gonna vacuum pack it before I wrapped it as a present because it would have been hilarious but I was slapping wrapping paper on while getting squawked at about being late, so we can all mourn the joke that never got the chance to land.

In conclusion, winging it gets you some crazy places and wild results but there are trade offs to careening speed, mostly in missed opportunities. But if you have a lot of pre-existing knowledge like general understanding of how seams work and also how fish work, you can pad out a lot of the inevitable fuck ups. If you are just jumping into raw dog a plushy pattern, I recommend starting out with something you are innately familiar with, rather than something that strikes you as cool.

#ask answered #plushie #Salmon #Project write up #Jesus this took forever #Tumblr ate another paragraph every time I looked away #Not a pattern but close enough #Pattern

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ohwatson · 4 months ago

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I would love to hear any thoughts you may have on Lestrade's wife and what happened to their marriage, should you feel so inclined?

i’ve thought about this specific piece of Lestrade Lore™ more than i care to admit, so i should feel so inclined, yes!

i definitely don’t think the lestrades’ marriage was short-lived, he gives the energy of someone who was married for at least a decade, maybe even 15-20 years.

i see a younger lestrade as being playful, flirtatious, probably a ladies man & definitely aware of it (have you seen young rupert graves? bffr.) but getting married sort of young. i imagine their relationship to kind of just have happened; they got to chatting and all the sudden were inseparable etc but never really saw a relationship coming until it kind of seemed like the obvious/right thing to do (in hindsight, lestrade probably recognizes that pursuing a relationship because it was expected & not because it was a good match in the long run wasn’t a great idea).

(also he looked so good in the episode jesus christ)

it was a healthy marriage in the beginning, lestrade is clearly devoted (he evidently went back to his wife after she cheated the first time, which speaks either of his loyalty or obliviousness, or something else). i think lestrade was content and was working his way up the NSY ranks during the early years of the marriage probably had the successful-career-as-a-detective-with-a-family-in-a-semi-detached-in-the-suburbs kind of vision for himself. however, he got the offer for a DI position & knew that the workload would increase and it could take a toll but the offer was too good to decline even if it meant he spent several extra hours at work in the evenings.

i imagine his wife got jealous or felt bored and insecure because of that, and i’m sure having sherlock ringing lestrade’s phone during dinner or at 2am demanding a case (& lestrade indulging him) didn’t help matters. so eventually she sought out someone else, thinking lestrade would be too busy to notice (she was right, but sherlock dredged that secret up quickly enough, & i do believe lestrade had suspicions but gave her the benefit of the doubt). she probably thought he cared more about his career than her, which wasn’t the case, but i do think lestrade probably took some of his marriage and personal life for granted and put it on pause for The Work (like sherlock in a way tbh).

obviously they separated at some point & i think it was probably lestrade who made the first move at trying to reconcile because he probably felt he was the reason for his wife’s infidelity. he truly thought they had been making progress until the infamous asib christmas (he cancelled the dorset holiday. the greek islands were nicer, anyways).

he looked a little sullen and tipsy at the wedding in tsot which i just chalked down to him having feelings about his divorce and also his friend’s gay situationship but evidently he’s not opposed to dating again as we see from tst & The One is out there for him somewhere live laugh love lestrade 🙂‍↕️

#jesus can i ever shut up about lestrade #(the answer’s no)#i do resent the depiction of lestrade’s wife as being a cold-hearted bitch though #obviously i’m not a fan of her #how does one marry a guy that handsome & then pick the pe teacher #truly villian behavior #but frankly i think she was resentful and jealous and bored and took it out in the worst way #lestrade was smart enough to recognize that and rationalize it and attempt to be more present #which is why he gave her a second chance #but i can hardly think of an excuse for continuing or starting round two of an affair #so i hope lestrade enjoyed the hell out of that holiday #and eventually finds someone who recognizes his needs & career challenges as well #(a certain minor government official perhaps?)#a lot of this is kind of fanon but i don’t see enough nuance on the Lestrade Marriage Situation #also rupert graves MAN OF ALL TIME #anyways that’s enough for tonight i think #god i need to get back into fic writing #greg lestrade #bbc sherlock #my rambles #ask #rupert graves #asib #thob

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broke-on-books · 5 months ago

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Days since last cried in class: 0

#my bilingualism class is fine and good and great and easy whatever until we get to exams in which case it is hell on earth and the most #stressful thing ever and i break down #its not even that i do bad i got a 100 on the last exam and have a 100 in the class but it is just the most stressful experience ever #this time was less bad then before bc i didnt have a girl coughing in my ear and everyone talking DURING THE EXAM but it was still hell #she brought in earplugs and i took a pair of those but jesus christ #i just hate the way she writes them its confusing and shell ask for small details from fucking forever ago #like literally “what does this word mean” in a language i dont fucking speak. ok it was a spanish creole language and that was one of the #examples when we learned abt it but i got my dates mixed up and didnt study that unit and FUCK!!!!!#just supreme talent to make me feel stressed and terrible. and i think she thinks im a stressed test taker now which is not true lol im #great at tests. i only start crying when i dont know the answer lol or feel stupid #which is crazy bc i do good on her tests. just think she has the unconscious talent of writing a test that makes you feel like youre #not doing it right and are going to do horribly as you do incredibly well #or maybe im just crazy #or maybe she needs to stop fucking scheduling her exams the same day as my fucking portuguese exams theres literally 2 of them how did she #go 2 for 2 because it turns my entire morning into a study craze with pockets of exam taking and crying #and once i start im raw all day so i end up crying like 3 times before noon #anyways need to get off tumblr im burning time to cram for my port exam in 2hrs hate you all goodnight

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dreams-and-honor · 2 years ago

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OH GOOD, the Terra feels have carried over into the next day so I can talk about like, how half of the ship with him goes.

Owen asked and I was talking about how like, me, Terra, and Aqua start working at a cute cafe in Twilight Town (because Twilight Town is my favorite, sorry Radiant Garden), and anyway, Terra wearing a white button-up with the sleeves rolled up and a black barista apron MOM HOLY FUCK aside-

Actually, no, I have to elaborate on this. Working the first couple of days was impossible because man was that shirt tight around his chest and it had me feeling some type of way and in return, he got to be accosted by the way the apron cinched around my waist. Then the whole slacks vs pencil skirt debacle. If it weren't for Aqua we wouldn't have gotten anything done.

ANYWAY

just

over thinking about living a cute domestic life with Terra in a cute apartment in Twilight Town and goddammit, we're thinking happy thoughts right now. no room for angst or tsunderadri, I'm mentally ill.

#in the time it took me to write this i had gotten up had a DID flareup and now i have no idea what i was doing or how i got back here #that was really short jesus #i think #WHAT FUCKING EVER NOTHING SHALL RIP ME FROM MY GAY TERRA THOUGHTS AGAIN #so i stayed in the darkness with you

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opens-up-4-nobody · 2 years ago

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...

#sometimes u just gotta have a cringe fail weekend. is what i tell myself bc i let the fact that i forgot to check my new #email completely obliterate me. also i haven't been sleeping enough. also just the normal thoughts in my head #by which i mean the part of my brain that demands consequences for inattention by means of suffering. devine punishment.#which is irrational and annoying but knowing that doesnt seem to help. so ive just been laying here in the hopes i come unspooled and start #to disintegrate. which is annoying bc ive got stuff to do #specifically bc i am supposed to b a TA this semester. which is what i figured but also feared #so. thats gonna b a lot. tho not as much as my old school bc they dont make TAs do literally everything here apparently #but. itll b a lot. and also i have to finish signing up for classes. bc i didnt do that back in April by my brain was melting. also i have #to keep doing my job and dealing with my data. ugh. well. being a TA isnt so bad. i do like to help ppl learn even if im not very good at it #like. i struggle with thr talking to ppl part. like the transition of ny thoughts to something thst makes sense #oh well. hope i end up teaching something im not too unqualified for. i could do soils. Ecology. uhhh. maybe intro bio but i never even took #university level biology. i just skipped upper level courses. that's probably it. anything else would b a lotta faking it #ugh. im tired. i should go to sleep at 9pm. thr sun hasbt even set and i should sleep #tomorrow i have to get my shit together. but also i wanna email my new professor like hey bro like what do u want me to do???#like how do i start in this lab? when do we start talking. like just not to b pushy but whats thr procedure?#i like Structure but also its like weeks until the semester starts so we got time. im just a lil nuts #jesus. its gonna b an interesting semester. hopefully fun but uh it is sorta like taking a boat out when u can see big ominous clouds #like im sure ill b fine but also i might get dumped over into a watery grave. i just. i have a lot of papers to write #and its gonna b hard to b a student on top of that. partly bc what im gonna b doing now is almost completely unrelated #which is probably y ppl stick to the same track they stsrt on. that awkward moment when ppl ask u if ur gonna keep working with bi0crust #and ur like uhhhh no fuck that actually the work ive done in the past 4 years makes me hate myself✌️#so we r back at square 1. well not 1 bc its sorta related but its a pretty big reset #itll b fine once things start. its just thr anticipation that kills me #unrelated

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talaok · 25 days ago

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Be the one to do it

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: You've always had a crush on your neighbor Joel, and once your friend Jordan suggests you ask him to help with a little "problem" of yours, it turns out he had never been such an unattainable dream.

Warnings: basically pwp. smut| big ass unspecified age gap, virginity loss, oral sex (f and m receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, kinda breeding kink and size kink, dirty talk, he talks you through it, Joel calls reader with a bunch of pet names and probably more stuff but i need to go to sleep.

a/n: this is the farthest it can get from original. you've probably read 10 other fics with the same premise but i just wanted to write some sweet and filthy virginity loss sue me

"I can barely get a sentence out around him and you think I'm gonna ask him to have sex!?"

"well yeah" Jordan laughed "It makes sense"

Your friend was looking at you like she'd just suggested getting ice cream, while what had really just come out of her mouth was really, exponentially different.

"you're out of your mind if you think-"

"just shut up" she interrupted, rolling her eyes "It would be a fucking walk in the park"

Your eyes widened exaggeratedly at that.

Did she have any idea about what she was suggesting?

The last time you'd interacted with Joel Miller all he had to do was ask how summer break was going for your face to get as hot as the sun and for you to end up muttering some nonsense and running away.

"He'd never say yes"

Again, Jordan's eyes rolled back.

"Y/n listen I love you but sometimes you can be real fucking dumb," she said, fighting a smile "The guy probably hasn't gotten laid in years!" she huffed a laugh "And with you? With a hot young piece of ass like you!? No guy on the planet would say no"

"You-you're just saying that... and you don't know him"

"I know men"

__ __ __

You didn't even remember how you'd gotten there, all you knew was that Joel Miller was right in front of you, opening the door to his fucking house.

"Hi"

Your face was already getting warm and your voice was just an inch above unhearable.

"Hi darlin'" he greeted you, smiling with that slow, easy smile that made you want to cry every single time.

How could a human being be so hot?

"Come on in" he nodded behind him "What's goin' on?"

Now here was the problem. You had no plan whatsoever, and this was setting itself up to be a complete shitshow.

"I..."

You weren't even meeting his eyes, you could see him trying to catch a glimpse of your gaze but you couldn't do it- to be quite frank you were already starting to panic... and to regret your decision.

"you want something to drink?"

You looked up at him, your mouth slightly open as your words died on your tongue.

Jesus, he was handsome.

You hadn't gotten the chance to really look at him before, but now there he was in all his glory… huge strong muscles fighting against his shirt and all.

"c'mon, I'll get ya some water"

You didn't miss the smirk on his lips as he caught you ogling his arms.

Definitely not off to a good start.

He handed you a glass of water, and you took it, willing your hands not to shake.

The golden light of the afternoon sun seeped through the curtains of his kitchen windows, illuminating the space with a calmness that completely contrasted with your state.

"boy problems?"

You almost flinched at the sound of his voice.

"gotta beat somebody up?"

He must have thought you were dumb with the way you were staring at him all wide-eyed, not daring to speak a word.

You needed to think of something, preferably right now.

"n-no, nothing like that” you shook your head, forcing a smile.

A beat of silence passed before you decided to take back already what you’d said.

“well actually sorta"

He frowned, shifting his stance from one foot to the other.

He was waiting for you to expand on your words, but the birds chirping on the nearby trees were the only sound in the room.

"you can talk to me doll, I ain't gonna bite"

You could feel your cheeks get hot.

Jesus it's like everything he did was scandalously sexy- every time he spoke with that sweet drawl of his, every pet name he used for you... he could have peeled his clothes off slowly as he gave you a lap dance and the effect on you would be the exact same.

"Well I just..." you started "I've got a... problem"

He looked even more confused.

Were you about to tell him you're pregnant? No that would be impossible, he'd never seen you with any guy around here... but maybe at college.

For some reason, the thought of you with another guy... with a boy... didn't sit right with him.

Actually, he knew the reason, throughout the summer he'd caught himself staring a little too long at you more times than he'd like to admit- it was like all of a sudden you had grown, and the sweet little kid living next to him was now suddenly a gorgeous woman. He didn't really know what to do with that information, with the inappropriate feelings and urgings weighing in his gut every time his gaze fell upon you and you squirmed embarrassed like a shy little thing.

"alright..." he urged you to go on.

"Sarah's not home right?"

His brows drew closer together as he frowned.

Why would you ask that?

"She's at a friend's"

You nodded, suddenly looking more resolute, even if the way your teeth tortured your poor bottom lip was enough of a tell of how nervous you were.

You had decided. Jordan was right. There was no harm in trying, and if it didn't go right you'd just avoid him for the rest of your life.

"I'm a virgin Joel"

You saw his eyes widen before your own words had even registered.

"O-oh"

That's all he could stutter. I mean what was he supposed to say? That seconds before he thought you were about to tell him you were pregnant? That he could not understand how someone as beautiful as you, with the billion contenders he was sure you had, still had not found a single one to have sex with?

"And I... well the thing is that I don't want to be anymore"

He tried to get back to how cool and collected he was before- you were here to talk to him after all, the least he could do was be as helpful as possible.

"right" he cleared his throat "you want some advice on how to navigate this thing?"

The silence and the look on your face told him quite the opposite.

What were you here for then?

"No- I- the thing is that... I was wondering if maybe you'd agree to-" you bit your cheek as you finally spat it out "to be the one to do it"

Joel was sure his heart had stopped.

"babygirl-" The words had barely left your mouth and he was already stopping you.

You felt tears prick your eyes... you knew that tone.

"I'm sorry it was a stupid-"

Goddamn you Jordan.

You were already planning to run out the door when he spoke.

"darlin' I'm pushing forty here"

That's not what you expected him to say. He wasn't disgusted, or amused, or angry...

"yes but-" You tried to speak but he was talking over you again.

"you're twenty... you ain't even old enough to buy a six-pack, I-I- that ain't something you're supposed to do with me"

Joel would have never admitted it, but he was saying those things mostly to himself- to desperately fight the instinct that took over him the moment you explained the reason you were at his house... the instinct to take you up the stairs and fuck you so good no one else would ever compare.

"b-but it's what I want"

You weren't giving up. You didn't know what, but there was something about the way he was going about it that told you there was still a sliver of a chance.

Only there was a lot more than a sliver... and the way you were looking up at him with those desperate doe eyes was upping your chance as you spoke.

"I trust you, Joel," you said "You're the only man that I know that I would trust with this"

He sighed, shaking his head "If your dad found out- Jesus I wouldn't live to see another day darlin'"

Your hand found his chest, strong and solid as rock beneath your palm.

"I won't tell" you murmured, your words verging on pleas "I-I won't tell anyone Joel I promise" you swore, looking up at him as his own eyes bore into yours.

"You're the only one I want to do this with... the only one I trust"

You could see the resolution, the fight, leave his face.

How the hell was he supposed to say no?

Christ, not even a priest would have that amount of self-control.

"fuck sweetheart" he shook his head before looking up, a long breath leaving his throat "You're gonna get me killed"

You didn't even try to hide your excitement.

Your heart was beating a mile a minute as you asked "Is- is that a yes?"

His eyes- his beautiful, big, hazel eyes were back on you.

"'f course it is"

You smiled so wide your cheeks hurt.

It was really happening.

You were gonna lose your virginity to Joel fucking Miller.

"A-are we gonna do it now?" you asked, almost breathless with joy "I-I mean only if you feel like it of course"

"If I feel like it..." Joel couldn't help but laugh "You really have no idea do ya?"

Your mouth parted in confusion.

Did you say something wrong already?

"About what?"

A beat passed as he stared down at you, almost amused.

"About whatcha do to me, sugar"

__ __ __

The door to his bedroom closed with a soft click, and all of a sudden, you were the only two people on earth.

His eyes didn't leave you for even a second, and although you felt very much on the spot, you liked his gaze on you.

"If you change your mind at any point darlin'," he said, walking closer to you until his right hand could gently move some hair out of your face "You tell me, and I'll stop, ok?"

"mh-mh" you nodded, although you were more than sure no changing of mind would happen... God, you didn't even know how long you'd dreamed of this.

"Don't gimme that doll, use your words" he corrected you, his thumb drawing circles on your cheek "Later too"

"O-ok, yes, I-I understand"

He smiled, amused.

"there's no need to be nervous sugar, we'll go real slow ok?"

"y-yes"

He couldn't help but chuckle.

"what can I do to make it better?"

You had an immediate answer in mind. The only thing you had been able to think about since he got this close.

"Can... could you kiss me?"

Jesus H. Christ.

Joel had to fight the urge to laugh. He'd drop to his knees and lick every inch of you if you asked, and you were wondering if he could kiss you...

"I can do whatever you want, babydoll" he murmured, as he slowly leaned closer.

You placed your hands on his big strong chest as you raised yourself on your tiptoes, and before you knew it... his lips were on yours.

You were holding your breath as the sound of your beating heart pounded in your ears.

This was really happening- this was real-

But before you had time to take it all in, the sweet feeling of Joel's lips on yours, of his beard, his nose, his hands, it was like something switched, a knob turned in his brain, and Joel wasn't kissing you anymore- no, he was devouring you.

He'd tried to go as soft and slow as he could but the moment you let out a little whimper... it was like he got possessed.

The hand on the back of your neck forced you impossibly closer as the one on your waist tightened enough to bruise, and he was... his tongue was desperately savoring every inch of your perfect mouth, swallowing all your pretty sounds.

His lungs screamed for relief but breathing was the last thing on his mind.

He'd never kissed like this.

Your panties were soaked once he finally pulled away.

He was about to apologize for losing control, but by the way you were looking at him, there was nothing to be sorry about.

"I'm gonna take off your clothes now doll, ok?"

You nodded, your breathing ragged, your cheeks on fire.

With just one kiss, he'd rendered your mind an empty mess. You doubted you could remember your address at the moment.

"What did I say 'bout usin' your words?" He murmured, his thumb tracing the shape of your swollen mouth.

"Sorry," you whimpered weakly.

He wouldn't have heard you if he had been but an inch away.

"Y-yes, you can take my clothes off"

He smiled at that, leaving another soft kiss on your lips before both his hands reached underneath your shirt.

His big, warm hands detoured to caress your sides, leaving shivers in their wake, before he brought your top up until he slid it off.

His eyes fell on your tits, still covered by your bra, and he looked up at you to check if you were alright before oh so slowly undoing the clasp and letting the garment fall to the floor.

He had to stifle the groan climbing up his throat because Jesus, he wanted nothing more than to take each of your perfect fucking nipples in his mouth and suck until begged him for more...

but he didn't, he let his self-control win this time as he reached for the waistband of your shorts.

He watched like a hawk every inch of skin that he uncovered until the shorts pulled at your feet and you stepped out of them together with your sandals.

Your breathing still hadn't gotten back to normal, and every fucking inch of your skin was on fire, burning with the intensity of his gaze.

He didn't say anything as his fingers slid past the waistband of your panties and with a quick movement pulled them down, leaving you completely bare.

Not able to stop himself, he groaned this time, his hands taking a tour of your body from your collarbones, to the valley between your breasts, to your belly, until his thumbs were but an inch from where you were burning with desire for him. But he didn't touch you there, no, his hands reached your waist as he stared at you 'cause god bless his heart, but he couldn't stop looking.

He liked his lips, as if he was hungry- starving- and you let out a small whimper, realizing you had held your breath all this time.

"You're... perfect babygirl"

You prayed he wouldn't judge you when he saw the mess that had become of between your thighs.

He can't say stuff like that and expect me not to melt.

His eyes were finally back on you, and the pure lust in them almost made you gasp.

He looked like a completely different man.

"Sit on the bed"

Your brain took a second too long to register his words.

I mean it's not every day you're naked in front of Joel Miller.

Joel's old mattress creaked as you sat on it, and you stayed there, diligently frozen in your spot as he took his sweet time to come closer.

He wanted to preserve the image of you sitting on his bed, naked, waiting, looking like a damn dream, in his brain for all the lonely nights of the rest of his life.

He stood there, towering over you, looking down at you as you looked up at him, and you felt even smaller.

You were about to speak, to beg him to please do anything, touch you in any way, put you out of your misery, when he crouched down, his eyes now level with yours.

His hands found your thighs and another whimper escaped your chest.

"Spread your legs f'me, doll"

And so you did, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Good girl"

This time, it wasn't a whimper that fled your mouth, but a small little moan.

Fuck

Heat rose to your face again and you looked away, embarrassed.

Of course, you liked to be told you're a good girl.

"None of that" Joel tsked, his right pointer forcing you to look back at him "Eyes on me"

You were so turned on you wanted to cry. But you didn't, you nodded, and just like that... Joel was leaning closer and his mouth... oh god his mouth had found your neck.

You gripped the sheets as your whole body started going on fire- as his mouth left hungry wet kisses under your ear, on your pulse, on your collarbones, on your tits, and when his lips wrapped around your right nipple... when his tongue toyed with your hard bud you swore you saw heaven.

Soft little moans started spilling from your mouth as he sucked and sucked and sucked, his hands going to support your boobs, pushing them together as his mouth went from one to the other again and again until you didn't even remember what it meant to breathe like a normal person.

It felt so good.

Who knew it would feel so fucking good?

Joel only stopped when your nipples were swollen and utterly drenched with his saliva, and you were about to protest when you felt his mouth traveling south...

"Joel" you whispered.

He looked up at you with that sexy fucking smirk on his face, not stopping the trail of kisses down your belly.

"Yes, doll?"

"What are you-" your sentence was interrupted by a gasp when his lips found your mound "W-what are you doing?"

His smirk only widened as his mouth dived lower.

"I'm gonna lick your pussy now darlin'" his low and lustful voice was enough to make you orgasm alone.

You could only blink, and then swallow, and then open your mouth... just for no words to come out.

Joel chuckled before kissing your inner thigh, sending a shock of pleasure to your core.

"'s that ok with ya?"

"Yes," you heard yourself blurt out before you even knew it, which made him laugh, a soft, vibrating laugh that fanned your core and rendered you all the more desperate.

"That's good to hear" he grinned, his mouth lowering until he was kissing your lips... your other lips.

Oh Jesus Christ

You spread your legs wider to accommodate him and he hummed in approval, taking them in his hands and forcing them on his shoulders.

Oh sweet Mother of Christ

He granted himself one look at your perfect, beautiful fucking pussy, before his eyes were back on you, and his tongue darted out without warning and licked your whole core like an ice cream cone.

"Oh"

Your hips spasmed for a second but before you had time to feel embarrassed, his tongue was back in action, only this time he was eating you as if he were starving.

He groaned in pleasure at your taste as his tongue explored every inch of you he could physically reach. His nose was rubbing against your clit and his beard felt so nice against your skin and oh god if you thought you'd seen heaven before you were wrong because the moment his lips wrapped against your bud angels opened up the pearly gates for you.

"Oh my god" you cried, your left hand getting a mind of its own and grabbing Joel's soft hair "Oh my fucking- Oh wow"

This was nothing like what you'd experienced before- nothing your own fingers had ever produced, this was... so so good.

"You taste so fucking sweet sugar" he groaned into you, sending another wave of pleasure through you "y've got such a perfect lil pussy babygirl" he continued in between lapping at your core "wish I could have it for breakfast every day"

You could only moan in response, and you could feel his smile on your skin as he watched the effect he was having on you.

Goddamn, you looked like an angel biting your lip as you moaned for him, your face flushed, your hand in his hair... this was the best decision he ever made- who gave a fuck if your dad put him in the ground, at least he got to see this.

"Gonna come for me doll?" he teased once he heard your cries get louder and your grip on his hair tighten "Gonna let me taste all your sweet juices like a good girl?"

Those words, once again, had their effect because in no time your hips were grinding onto him and breathless gasps were forcing their way out your throat as the best orgasm of your life shuttered through you,

"Just like that" he praised you as you rode the high "thatta girl- give it to me baby"

You were only partially aware of where you found yourself as you came down from the orgasm.

you were breathing heavily, your eyes closed as Joel made his way up your body, his lips pecking every inch of it until he finally kissed your mouth.

"You ok darlin'?"

Your eyes opened at once, the dreamiest look in them,

"I'm great" you grinned, making him smile before he kissed you again, slowly this time, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

He only pulled away when you whined, your hands gripping his arms desperately as your body begged for more.

He sat up on the bed against the headboard, and it was then you finally realized he was still fully clothed...

You were naked from head to toe and he was still dressed... you had no idea why but that made you even hornier, which is why you hastily sat up.

"A- are we gonna do it now?"

He huffed out a laugh as his hand invited you closer.

"not quite yet sugar," he cooed as he guided you to sit on his lap, your back against his chest and your ass against... oh wow.

You could very much feel through his jeans the print of what felt like his huge cock right against your backside.

You couldn't help it, you shifted your butt, not so subtly grinding against him, and when his only response was to grab your waist, you couldn't help but do it again... and again, until you not only heard, but felt a groan rise up his chest.

"babygirl..." he murmured against your ear, making you shiver "You might wanna stop that"

You bit your lip, doing it again "Why?"

He inhaled sharply, his grip tightening "'cause baby, if you keep on goin' I'm gonna come, and you ain't gonna get what you came all this way for"

That made you want to stop and keep going at the same time.

The thought of Joel Miller coming because of you doing what you were doing...

"Don't ya even think about it sugar" He anticipated your actions as if he'd read your mind. You felt him smirk as he kissed you right under your ear.

To that you surrendered, stopping your movements at once.

He hummed, satisfied, inhaling your scent as his right hand slowly moved down your belly.

You held your breath as his fingers found your clit and his mouth your neck.

You couldn't see Joel from this position, but you didn't need to, you could feel him.

His ring and middle finger started circling your clit in a slow and precise motion and moans were already spilling from your lips.

"Joel" you breathed.

"'m right here" he promised, his voice husky, clouded by his lust.

His fingers continued their torturous path until he found your hole.

You could only gasp as his fingers dived inside of you.

Oh god.

"You ever done this to yourself doll?" he asked, his fingers thrusting in and out of you lazily.

You could both hear how unbelievably drenched you were, but that was the very last thing on your mind... what seized your attention at the moment were the sparks of pleasure Joel was igniting in your core.

"mh?" he hummed once you didn't answer, still kissing your neck.

"I-I did" you swallowed, your words interrupted by yet another cry when his fingers curled, sending much more than a spark of pleasure to your brain "Like... like twice"

"just twice?" Joel asked

"It just... it doesn't feel good"

His movements continued, making your breathing get more and more uneven.

"How does it feel now?" he accentuated his words by making whatever gesture he made that had your walls tightening around his fingers.

"G-good"

"Now that ain't gonna do" he cooed, his fingers all of a sudden leaving your core.

"B-but-" you were about to protest turning his way, but his voice took over.

"'s alright darlin', gimme your hand"

You looked down to see his hand waiting for yours, and without even thinking you did as he asked.

He placed his palm big palm on top of your hand, engulfing it, and he guided it down your body, past your belly button, until you were right where he was seconds ago.

"use these two fingers" he instructed, showing you the ones he was talking about.

"good, now get 'em all nice and wet" he murmured, guiding them through your slick folds to do just what he'd said.

You were back at your hole and your mind had stopped working.

You were just a doll, following his every instruction, watching closely his hand move yours as your core ached with desire.

"Now slide 'em in" he whispered, his honeyed voice hypnotizing.

And so you did, you pushed your ring and middle finger inside of yourself.

Why was this so fucking hot?

"Now go in and out" his words were your command, literally.

Again, the sound of your slick pussy spread through the room as you did as he asked.

"how's that feel?"

You weren't gonna lie, not to Joel.

"It's... it's ok" you breathed "Not as good as before"

He smirked, his tongue darting out to lick your pulse as his free hand traveled higher, finding your boobs.

Well of course it felt better before his fingers were two times yours.

"curl your fingers" he ordered, his palm caressing your tits "Like this," he said, showing you exactly what he meant.

He did almost like a "come here" motion, and although skeptically, you replicated it, and well... Joel Miller knew what the fuck he was talking about cause goddamn...

You cried out at the sudden burst of pleasure.

"Again"

And so you did it again, only this time, Joel's fingers had found your left nipple, and the way they toyed with it just as you fingered yourself made the feeling triplicate.

"Keep doin' that babydoll" Joel breathed, his mouth leaving hot, wet kisses on your neck and shoulders as his fingers tweaked your pretty nipples.

"just like that" he hummed as you cried out louder and louder, as you squirmed above him, your free hand gripping his thigh to have something to hold on to.

"that's it... look so pretty like this sugar" he continued "making yourself come like a good girl..."

Jesus his cock was begging for attention... this was the hottest fucking shit he'd ever seen.

Your legs were starting to close as your orgasm approached, and your voice, calling out Joel's name, was getting more and more desperate.

"so good" he groaned, his fingers pinching your nipple without warning "Y'look so perfect when you come babygirl".

That's the last thing you heard as a tsunami of pleasure overtook your whole body.

You were pretty sure you were shaking and wailing like a madwoman, but all you could really be sure of was what happened once you finally reopened your eyes.

You felt so very spent and you hadn't even done what you came here for yet.

Joel's eyes were boring into yours, his hands caressing your sides.

"Still with me?" he asked.

"Yeah," you smiled wide once again.

You felt like you were lying on a cloud, no thoughts or worries going through your head... just pure bliss.

"You still sure about this sugar?"

You had no hesitation.

"Yeah"

He smiled, kissing your lips for a brief second before leaning away.

The moment you realized he was finally taking off his clothes you were wide awake.

You sat up just as he discarded his shirt to the floor.

Je-sus.

This wasn't the first time you'd seen Joel shirtless. It wasn't a coincidence you chose to sunbathe every time he was mowing the lawn...

Yet, the breath was still knocked out of you.

He was broad, like seriously so. He was big and although you couldn't say he had a six-pack it was plain obvious the man was strong.

You didn't think it was possible, but you were getting even wetter.

You wanted nothing more than to let your palm caress his chest, the sparse hair on his pecs, the v lowering towards his pants...

Speaking of which, a gasp fled your throat the moment he took off his jeans, and by the time his boxers were off your mouth hung open in awe... and worry.

"you're..." you had to swallow to try and get some water to your dry mouth "Joel you're-- huge"

You weren't looking at him as he laughed, but at the big scary cock against his stomach bobbing with the movement.

"how would ya know, babygirl?"

You had to force yourself to look away from his manhood, and once you did, you found his gaze again.

"I... I've watched... stuff"

A side of his mouth twitched mischievously at the confession.

"Oh yeah?" he teased "My good little girl watches porn? 's that whatcha telling me?"

Why was it hot in here all of a sudden?

"N-No I just..." heat rushed to your face as you bit your lip "I-I mean-"

He laughed, cutting you off "'s ok sugar, I won't tell"

You could only offer him a little smile because to be honest, your focus was still on the reason you'd even broached the subject.

Your eyes were back on his dick, and while yes it was a worrying size, it also sparked curiosity and need deep inside of you. Which is why you moved closer to him, kneeling on the bed so that his cock was right before you.

And holy mother of God.

"Can I..."

You didn't even need to finish the sentence.

Jesus, if he were to be honest even just seeing you in this position was getting him close to coming.

"You can do whatever you want babydoll, I told ya"

You nodded, hesitantly leaning a little closer.

"I-I've never..."

"As long as my dick is in your mouth I'll be a happy man darlin'"

You gulped, biting your lip as you tried to understand where to even begin, and just then, a tiny bit of precum leaked from his manhood- so naturally, you acted on your first thought... and licked his head, tasting the tang of him.

You heard him inhale sharply as you continued licking, first just his head, then the sides, every ridge and vein... but it was only when you finally wrapped your lips around him that he lost it.

"Fuck"

He groaned like an animal and that only gave you all the more reasons to go further, forcing his dick into your mouth until it hit the back of your throat, causing you to gag.

"Fucking- Jesus Christ"

You looked up at him now, your hands finding his legs as you bobbed your head up and down, sucking so very well every inch you could fit... which was barely half.

He'd gathered your hair to the back of your head, but he wasn't guiding your movements, it was all you.

"Babydoll" he rasped, "I think that's enough"

But you didn't wanna stop. This was so hot... feeling him in your mouth, hearing him moan for you...

"Baby" he grunted "I ain't gonna be able to fuck you if I come down your throat"

Those crude words brought you back to reality... and made you even hornier.

You pulled away from his dick, letting it slap back against Joel's stomach.

"Lay down f'me"

You did, without question.

He stifled a groan at the sight, at the fucking image displayed before him once you obeyed his command and spread your legs.

Fuck.

He looked at your eyes, watching for any sign of doubt, of a second thought... but he found none.

It was then he finally took his cock in his hand, giving it a much-needed pump and making you swallow drily.

He was silent as he guided his tip to your folds, making it slide between them and catching on your clit... but you weren't.

You were letting out all sorts of little cries and whimpers and moans as he toyed with you.

But you too, fell silent once you felt him stop at your entrance.

"Mh-" you were starting to hum, biting down your lip as he began pushing inside when he suddenly stopped.

"Fuck- forgot the condom"

You blinked, trying to make sense of what had happened as he reached into his night table.

"Joel" you called for him, making him turn around, condom in hand.

"'m sorry darlin', should've remembered sooner"

But that's not what you wanted to say.

"Joel can we..." you gulped "can we not-- use it?"

He frowned as his dick damn near exploded.

You wanted him to fuck you raw?

"Jesus sweetheart you tryna kill me today or somethin'?"

You smiled, your hands fidgeting.

"N-no I just... this is my first time... I- I wanted to feel it, y'know?" you murmured "A-and I'm clean and if you... if you use it with all the other women then you must be clean too, so..."

Joel had the urge to laugh.

"That ain't what 'm worried about, pretty doll"

It was one thing your dad finding out he'd fucked you... a different thing if he'd fucking got you pregnant.

Your mouth formed an o shape as you remembered.

"O-Oh no, I-I'm on the pill"

I shouldn't do this.

There's still a risk.

I'm old enough to be her father I shouldn't be doing this for countless different reasons.

I shouldn't.

I really fucking shouldn't.

And yet Joel had already gotten rid of the condom and had made his way on top of you.

You smiled before he kissed you, taking away all the oxygen from your lungs.

"I need you to relax now sugar" he murmured, his hand guiding his dick to your entrance once again.

"O-ok" you nodded, feeling the very tip of him push inside you.

"Just like that" he praised, kissing you again "Doing so well f'me"

It burned.

The stretch got more and more demanding as he tried to push himself deeper into you.

"Ah!" you gasped, your hands gripping his biceps as he kissed your neck.

"I know baby, I know"

"I-it's big" you cried, planting your feet on the mattress to try and ground you.

"You want me to stop?" he asked, looking you in the eyes, although yours were shut close.

"N-no" you shook your head "I just... " you hissed from the pain as he slid in an inch further.

"You can do it babygirl" he whispered, still planting kisses everywhere he could reach.

"B-but it's too big" you whimpered desperately as he still kept going. It felt interminable.

"Don't ya worry 'bout it honey" he said, moving some hair out of your face "I'm gonna make it fit"

That got him the first little moan of pleasure, which coincided with you letting him get an inch deeper.

"Yeah you like that?" he cooed "You like the idea of me filling you up with my cock to the very brim?"

You moaned again, louder.

"I know you do sugar." one of his hands had traveled between your bodies to find your clit, making you cry out even louder "Want nothing more than to be full of me, do ya?"

"'s ok sweetie, we're almost there" he promised, his breath sending shivers up your spine "You're taking me so well... letting me stretch this perfect little pussy for the very first time..."

It still burned, but the worst was done, and his words were making you forget half the pain.

"such a good girl" he cooed "There we go, like that, lemme in babygirl... fuck"

You'd done it.

"Oh my god" you gasped.

You felt utterly and completely full, like your body had been missing a part of it all this time.

"Joel" you cried, your grip on his arms tightening.

"You ok sugar?" he asked, although you could hear the restraint in his voice.

"Yes" you breathed opening your eyes to look at him "Yes please do- do something"

He smirked as he gave you a quick kiss.

"I'm gonna start moving now, ok?"

You nodded hastily "Y-yes- please".

And so what could he do, if not exactly what you'd asked?

He retracted his hips just to thrust in again, and... wow.

"O-Oh my god" you cried, as he did it again, finding a slow and oh so very deep pace.

He was rolling his hips, grinding against your pelvis every time he trusted in, making fireworks explode in your body.

"Fuck, doll" he groaned, his pace quickening "Y'feel so good... so tight for me"

You could only moan at his words, your legs wrapping around him.

"it's like you were made for my cock" he said, staring at you although your eyes were closed.

He didn't want to miss even a second of this.

"To let me fuck you like you need" he hissed, having to refrain himself from coming too soon.

That had been a danger since the very first inch of him had entered you.

You just felt so fucking good.

"You're such a good girl baby, y've got no idea" he groaned, kissing and licking your neck "Taking me so well"

"J-Joel!" you basically screamed once the fingers on your clit resumed their work.

"I know baby" he cooed, continuing to fuck you thoroughly "I know it's a lot, but you can take it"

The sound of your skin slapping with his bounced off the walls with each thrust together with the creaks of the mattress.

"I-I- Joel" you kept on crying, your breathing getting more and more ragged as your belly tightened expecting the approaching orgasm.

"what is it darlin'?" he purred, "need me to fuck you harder, softer?" he murmured "Tell me what you want and I'll give it to ya baby"

"M-more"

He could only smirk as he picked up his pace, now slamming into you harder, feeling your walls tighten with each thrust.

"Oh god- O-Oh shit--"

"C'mon doll," Joel groaned as your nails dug into his skin "Be a good girl and come for me- let me feel you come around my cock"

He didn't even need to ask.

"like that" he rasped as your eyes shut tight and you cried as loud as your vocal chord permitted "Just like that- good fucking girl"

Each molecule of your body rearranged itself as the orgasm overtook your body, mind, and soul.

You were sure you had ascended to another universe, the only thing that grounded you was Joel's words as he reached his own peak.

"Fuck doll, 'm gonna come" he grunted " 'm gonna fill you up babygirl- like that- take it sugar-- take it all"

It took a long while for you to gain back consciousness, and when you did, you found yourself lying under Joel's blanket, his hand gently drawing patterns on your arm as he... he was watching you.

"There she is"

You could only find it in yourself to smile as you leaned closer to him, leaving a soft, quick kiss on his lips.

"Thank you, Joel"

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artficlly · 1 month ago

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his girls [one-shot]

marvel au bucky x reader alpine barely tolerates anyone but bucky, so when she curls up in your lap without a second thought, the team is left reeling—especially when it leads to the not-so-subtle revelation that you and bucky have been sneaking around for months.

Warnings: fluff, so much fluff, alpine is a troublemaker, secret dating, swearing, kissing, alcohol, tony knows all, natasha too, no use of y/n, lmk if i've missed anything

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: hello! once again a fic no one asked for lol. i'm supposed to be on hiatus buuut i took some time this afternoon to write this because i'm procrastinating a uni assignment. i'm sure this concept has been done before, but i was thinking about that scene in rivals with the dog (iykyk) and yeah! step away from the usual angst and heartbreak i normally provide you all with. sorry for any typos - not proof read.

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You were careful.

Or at least, you thought you were careful.

For months, you and Bucky had kept your relationship under wraps. It wasn’t that you wanted to keep secrets from the team, but there was something thrilling about stolen moments and hushed conversations. About Bucky’s hand on the small of your back as he guided you through a crowded room, or the way he’d brush a kiss against your temple before disappearing down the hall.

You figured no one had noticed.

Until today.

It all started with one of many white hairs stuck to your t-shirt.

Natasha plucked it off you mid-conversation one morning in the kitchen while you were praying—desperately—to whatever all-seeing god might finally make the coffee machine work faster. Between the groaning, spluttering sounds and the blinking lights, it felt like the damn thing was possessed. With flawlessly manicured nails, Natasha held the hair up to the morning light filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the compound.

“Is this Alpine’s fur?” she mused aloud, twirling the long, pale strand between her fingers.

“Probably.” you replied absently, more concerned with the coffee machine’s latest refusal to cooperate. You jabbed the buttons harder, ignoring the way Natasha’s eyes flickered with something dangerously close to amusement.

“For all of Tony’s money, you’d think we’d have a coffee machine that actually works,” you grumbled.

“Turn around?” Natasha asked. There was a particular lilt to her voice, that barely concealed intrigue she tried—and failed—to mask whenever she was onto something. It set you on edge instantly, the tone that meant she was clicking a mystery into place, giddy with excitement beneath a thin veil of indifference. You didn’t trust it for a second.

“No, just—” You smacked the machine in frustration. It whined pathetically before the lights blinked off entirely. You let out a long, exasperated groan. “Why won’t this stupid fucking thing ever work—”

“Jesus, you’re covered in it—”

You froze mid-motion as Natasha yanked at your shirt, effectively grooming you like a monkey. Her sharp lips had turned up into a wicked smirk, the type of smirk that made dread pool in your gut.

“Everything is covered in her fur,” you said quickly, still trying for casual. You reached for the plug, praying Natasha would drop it. “She sheds everywhere, especially on the couch.”

“Mm.” Natasha tilted her head, her smirk deepening. “And yet, I thought Tony hired cleaners for that? Especially with Kate always bringing Lucky around?”

You yanked the plug from the socket a little too forcefully. “Honestly, Nat, I don’t know. I just want this damn machine to work.”

Right on cue, a familiar voice rumbled behind you.

“Machine giving you trouble again?”

Your heart stuttered in your chest before resuming its normal rhythm—though maybe a little faster. You turned just as Bucky strolled in, looking frustratingly good despite the early hour. His hair was a little dishevelled, sleep still clinging to him in a way that made him look too soft for someone who could snap a man’s spine in half.

“There’s a trick to it, remember?” He stepped in close beside you, skin brushing yours as he reached for the machine. The scent of his aftershave lingered, warm and familiar. You tried—and failed—not to watch the way the muscles in his forearm tensed, veins shifting beneath his skin as he pressed a series of buttons.

“Barnes, you’ve got cat hair all over you,” Natasha noted, not even bothering to be subtle. You didn’t dare look at her. Instead, you busied yourself wringing your hands, pretending you weren’t hyper-aware of Bucky standing so damn close.

“Huh?” Bucky barely spared a glance at his shirt, where Alpine’s fur was unmistakably clinging to the fabric. “Oh. Yeah, guess I do. She always wants attention in the morning.”

Then, with one final smack, the machine roared to life. The rich aroma of coffee filled the air as liquid finally poured into your mug. You sighed in sheer relief.

“There you go,” Bucky said, looking down at you with a small smile, a few strands of dark hair falling across his forehead.

Your stomach did a stupid little flip. You smiled back, warmth creeping into your face. “Thanks.”

The machine beeped again, snapping you back to reality. You quickly grabbed the mug with both hands, muttered another thanks, and let Natasha tug you away.

“What was that?” She hissed, voice low as she turned to you with narrowed eyes.

“Huh?” You weren’t entirely listening to her words. You found yourself glancing over your shoulder, a ghost of a smile tugging at your lips. You could still see Bucky standing in the kitchen, both hands braced on the counter as he waited for his own coffee. His back was turned, but even through the thin material of his fur-covered t-shirt, you could see the way his muscles shifted beneath it—

Natasha didn’t even humour your innocence. She crossed her arms. “You and Barnes?”

“What about him?” You mumbled, pulling your gaze away as the elevator dinged, doors sliding open.

Her lips twitched, amusement clear. “Are you two—?”

You made a face at her. “What are you on about?”

Natasha didn’t look convinced, but she let it go.

For now.

As the elevator hummed and Bucky was cut from your view as the doors shut, you took a sip of coffee, the liquid a few degrees between too hot and burning. It scalded your tongue, and with the phantom smell of Bucky’s aftershave no longer haunting you, you felt your mind snap back into action.

Right. Focus.

“We’re going to be late for the meeting,” you declared, shaking your head. “And that damn machine is the reason. You know what? Let’s take a detour to Stark’s lab and demand a better one.”

Natasha chuckled, pressing the button for a different floor.

“I like the way you think.”

—

You knew Alpine would be your downfall.

The little white menace was notoriously selective. If you weren’t Bucky, she wanted nothing to do with you. Everyone at the compound had suffered her wrath at least once—Sam even had the scars to prove it. Alpine liked to play dangerous games that usually ended in blood or a yowl of pain. You swore the Avengers bled more dealing with the feline than fighting aliens, wizards, or whatever else tried to obliterate Earth every other week. She was a cunning little creature, lurking around corners, hiding under tables, prowling along bookshelves. And just when you least expected it—bam. Teeth and claws bared, she would pounce, latching on like a tiny, vengeful spectre. This was her idea of fun. The Avengers had learned to tread carefully, tip-toeing around the compound whenever they knew she wasn’t safely curled up in Bucky’s room, where she ruled with an iron paw.

So, when you sat down on the couch one evening, and Alpine immediately hopped onto your lap, you knew you were fucked.

She didn’t hesitate, didn’t so much as sniff at you in consideration before curling right up, purring loud enough to be heard over the football game droning on in the background—which you were only half paying attention to.

You stiffened, caught between awe at the rare privilege and sheer dread at the witnesses currently gaping at you.

Bucky, for his part, had been sitting at the other end of the couch, flirting with danger in his usual way—stolen glances, conveniently placed touches as he shifted in place. Alpine, just as obsessed with him as you were (Bucky had taken to calling you both ‘his girls’ in private, which always managed to make you swoon.), had immediately perched in his lap when he sat down. Only when he carefully pried her off to grab another round of beers did the little white she-beast decide you were a worthy substitute, strutting over with lazy, languid confidence before settling down, blissfully unaware of what she had just unleashed.

The room fell into stunned silence. Several pairs of eyes locked onto you, breath collectively held. They were waiting for the yowl, for the inevitable attack, for you to tense up and leap to your feet in pain. But to your horror, the little sadist simply settled in. Cosy, unbothered, as if this had been the plan all along.

“Okay, what the hell is this?” Sam finally demanded, pointing an accusing finger.

You blinked down at Alpine, then up at Sam, stroking the soft fur like nothing was amiss. “Uh… a cat?”

You were foolish and desperate enough to pretend this was completely normal, to gaslight the others into believing Alpine was a perfectly gentle and affectionate cat. A sweet, loving companion. Not a tiny, vengeful menace who had terrorised them all—and definitely not a creature who had only warmed up to you in recent months because you spent more time in Bucky’s bed than your own.

“The same cat that tried to claw out my eyeball for getting too close? And now she’s just—” He gestured wildly at Alpine, who flicked her tail with the smugness of a queen on her throne. “—cuddling with you like you’re her best buddy?”

“She likes me, I guess.” You blinked innocently, turning back to the TV, hoping he would drop it, but Sam, ever the dramatic, was not satisfied.

“Are you kidding me? That cat has tried to kill me.”

Natasha snorted into her drink.

Alpine smugly licked her paw before resting her head upon your thigh and blinking her wide blue eyes at Sam, who shook his head with an exaggerated shudder. “This is bullshit, and you know it—”

“Maybe she just doesn’t like you, Sam.” You huffed, scratching Alpine behind her ears. “She’s always been fine with me.”

“That is not true!”

“She took a chunk out of my arm once,” Natasha added, ever the instigator.

“Remember when I gave her a treat and she bit me?” Steve piped up.

Bucky returned at that moment, frowning as he saw the conversation unfolding before him. You turned to him with wide, desperate eyes, silently pleading for help. Alpine, the little traitor, merely pressed her pink nose to your hand, rubbing her face against you with a contented sigh.

“She only likes people she’s comfortable with,” Bucky offered, setting the beers down with a clink, but his pitiful attempt to be helpful only added fuel to the fire.

The room exploded into a series of overlapping voices.

“I didn’t realise you spent so much time with Alpine?” Natasha’s sharp gaze flicked between you and Bucky, her smirk primed to taunt you both.

“Buck, doesn’t she spend all her time in your room—?” Steve leaned forward, forearms braced against his thighs, invested now.

Sam jolted upright like he’d just solved a murder case. “Now, hold on a second—”

“You have been covered in cat fur a lot lately,” Natasha mused. “And you two have been suspiciously close—”

As you glanced over at Bucky, you couldn’t tell if his repeated blunders were intentional or borne out of genuine panic. He cleared his throat, his brows raising as he casually popped off the cap of one of the beers with his vibranium thumb in faux nonchalance.

“Coincidence.” He muttered with a shrug, tipping back a mouthful of the brew.

Alpine, completely oblivious (or entirely aware of the chaos she’d caused), didn’t budge as Bucky sat back down beside you, levelling you with a look that screamed we are so screwed.

“You two aren’t even going to try to lie?” Natasha pressed.

“Lie about what?” You feigned innocence, but the act was flimsy at best. The jig was well and truly up.

Bucky, clearly done with this little charade, let out a long-suffering sigh that might’ve sounded exasperated if not for the telltale smirk tugging at his lips. Without another word, he slung an arm around your shoulders, pulling you effortlessly against his chest, Alpine still coiled contentedly in your lap. The smug little she-beast didn’t even stir. She just purred loudly—too loudly, like she was taking credit for the entire thing.

“Wait a second!” Sam pointed a dramatic finger between the two of you. “How long has this been happening?”

“How long has what been happening?” Tony strolled into the room, a glass of amber liquid that looked suspiciously like whiskey in hand.

“Her,” Steve announced, gesturing between the both of you. “And Barnes.”

Tony didn’t even blink. “Oh, I already knew that. You didn’t know that?”

Bucky turned so fast you were surprised he didn’t give himself whiplash. “You what?”

“Oh, come on,” Tony drawled, making himself comfortable on the armrest of the couch like this was all just another day at the office. “You really thought I wouldn’t notice her sneaking out of your room at ungodly hours for the past six months? F.R.I.D.A.Y. kept flagging intruders, and, shocker—it was just you two, utterly failing at stealth.”

Sam threw up his hands. “Did you say six months?!”

Bucky rolled his eyes, but instead of answering, he just turned to you and, without hesitation, kissed you.

It was sudden but warm, his lips soft against yours like he’d been waiting for an excuse. The room erupted into even more noise, Sam shouting something unintelligible, Natasha making a sound of smug satisfaction, and Steve groaning like he should’ve known, but it all faded into the background.

You laughed against Bucky’s lips, breathless but entirely unbothered. “This is definitely her fault.”

Alpine, still purring in your lap like the devious little mastermind she was, flicked her tail.

Bucky just hummed, brushing his nose against yours. “Yeah,” he muttered. “Not complaining, though.”

And, truthfully, neither were you.

#bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #alpine #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #winter soldier #marvel fic #marvel au #marvel

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fingertipsmp3 · 11 months ago

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That last post just reminded me of something honestly mind-boggling that that friend did

#so i’d just gone back to uni after being home for the weekend and i messaged my friend to let her know #and she said ‘oh awesome i’m studying in the library with my friends from my course all day; come up!’#i lived a 15 minute bus ride from campus and had a free pass so it wasn’t a problem at all for me to get myself there #(and i went to campus tons anyway. like i think i went to the library once a day that whole year to be honest. i was writing my dissertation #so even though i didn’t like her friends (they were snooty; cliquey; all the guys would try to flirt with you in creepy ways) i said ‘sure’#but there was one problem: i’d left my wallet at home. my grandma had lent me some cash as soon as i’d realised (too far into the journey to #go back) and i’d be fine for the few days it took for someone to get my wallet to me; but i didn’t have my student ID #and i needed that to get to the upper floors of the library. where my friend and her friends were #SO i communicated that to her and she was like ‘yeah of course i’ll let you in! just let me know when you’re there’#so i did that and got no response. didn’t think anything of it. but then she messaged saying something about how her friends were having an #argument; someone was having a breakdown and she couldn’t come down right then #i was like ‘fine take a few minutes’ but i was obviously annoyed because what do you mean?? just walk away for a second #use me to diffuse the situation and change the subject if you have to?#so i said to let me know when she was coming down but i didn’t hear anything and it was crowded as fuck on the ground floor of the library #so i think i gave her like 10 minutes and just went to the business school’s cafe #nearly an HOUR later my phone rang and it was evidently her standing in the reception area of the library wondering where i was #i was like did you honestly think i’d still be waiting?? did you think i had nothing better to do with my life than wait around #like a schmuck to hang out with you and your godawful friends who i don’t like. jesus christ #and i mean it’s still not the most insane way she’s disrespected my time. like a few months after that she called me asking if i wanted to #go for a walk. i said ‘yeah’ and proceeded to get ready and everything. waited for her. she’s like ‘actually i need to do x’#then i didn’t hear from her. after like an hour i gave up and started working on my dissertation #she pulled up to my house THREE HOURS after she initially called and was absolutely bamboozled when i said i no longer wanted to go #on a walk and that i was working on my dissertation and had gotten in the zone #like if you’re going to be That late you’ve gotta tell people. you can’t expect them to still be waiting on you #past a certain point; especially with no communication; i just assume i’ve been stood up and i go do something else #because like realistically why the hell WOULDN’T i go do something else if i more than likely have 3 hours to do it in lmao #i can’t with this type of behaviour. i really think she thinks other people don’t have lives #or want to hang out with her so badly that they’re willing to sit around for hours waiting #i just think she should manage her ego to be honest #personal

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cinnxmxngxrl · 16 days ago

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“Too old”

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Part 2 here Masterlist here

Summary: You’ve been throwing yourself at Joel Miller for months, even if the answer was always a no. But tonight he comes knocking at your door.

WC: 3k

Warnings: smut, minors DNI, dirty talk, age gap, unprotected piv, oral (f!receiving).

A/N: Just so you know english is not my first language and this is literally my first time writing, so it’s probably terrible but wanted to try anyway. Also this is pretty much all smut without plot.

“I’m too old for you.”

That was the same bullshit excuse he’d always use. Every single time you tried to make a move, he’d bring up the age difference. You weren’t sure if it was because he was scared of what the people of Jackson would say behind closed doors or if he was worried he wouldn’t be able to keep up with you.

Because yes, he was old—but no other man had ever made you feel so weak in the knees like him. Like that time you saw him fixing one of the fences, flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up, those huge arms on full display, veins popping out. Logically, you had to run home to relieve the ache between your thighs, thinking of him. Always of him.

Or that other time, right after winter, when you saw him in his new pants—new for him—legs spread wide as he sat, too preoccupied talking to Tommy for him to notice the way you drooled over the big bulge that the too-tight pants revealed. All you could think about was how it would feel to sit on top of that and ride it until your legs went numb.

“Listen, darlin’, I’m twice your age. It would never work. Just let it go,” he said, shutting you down once again. “Plenty of young men for you here.”

“You know, to me, it sounds like you’re scared,” you shot back. “Scared it might work. Scared you might like it too much.” You took a few steps closer to him, your hand barely brushing his broad chest.

He scoffed, amused as if what you had said was completely ridiculous. “You’re so sure of yourself, huh? I’m sorry to break it to you, but I’d never see you as anything but a kid.”

Now you laughed. “A kid, you say? Then swear to me you’ve never thought about me before going to sleep,” you said, a smile on your face that implied you already knew the answer.

“I’ve never thought about you… in that way.” A lie. You could see right through him, the way he looked away, avoiding your gaze.

You chuckled. “Oh right, of course, you haven’t.” The sarcasm was unmistakable in your voice.

“Jesus, fuck, you’re giving me a goddamn headache.” He said through gritted teeth, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don’t think of young girls in that way.”

“I’m not a young girl, Joel, in case you haven’t noticed.”

And damn if he hadn’t noticed. Of course, he fucking did. He was only a man, for Christ’s sake. He couldn’t help but stare at your ass when you were bending down to pick up tomatoes in the garden, picturing how you’d look bent over his kitchen counter instead, with him fucking you from behind. The truth was that this was his most recurring fantasy on those cold, lonely nights when he had his hand wrapped around his hard cock, imagining bending you over every possible surface, cumming in record time just by thinking about it. He wouldn’t even dare imagine how long he’d last if he were actually inside you.

“Still, you’re too young for me anyway,” he said. More excuses, you thought.

“You’ll change your mind eventually, Joel. I’m gonna enjoy seeing you crawl to me, and I’m gonna be waiting because I’m a very patient woman,” your tone was far too seductive, nearly making him say “fuck it”and give in. “You know where I live, so find me there when you grow the balls to be with me.”

Joel muttered a curse under his breath as he watched you walk away, your head held high and your hips swaying.

That night, he rolled restlessly in bed. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw your face, those beautiful eyes of yours, and oh that mouth that would look so good wrapped around his cock, taking it all in. He couldn’t stop the way his body reacted to those thoughts; he was so fucking hard it was painful. No matter how much he tried to look at the ceiling and think of anything else, nothing worked, and with every passing second he grew more relentless.

“Screw it,” he thought as he stood up from bed, putting on a pair of jeans and a jacket at lightning speed. The town was quiet and empty this late at night as he made his way to your house. He felt stupid; he was an old man. He should know better than to cave in, to knock on your door in the middle of the night because he needed some much-wanted release. But right now, none of that mattered.

A few moments after he knocked on your door, you finally appeared, a knowing smirk on your face. “Oh, Joel, what a surprise.”

He tried hard to swallow the humiliation he felt for being so weak. “Can I come in?”

“Sure, go ahead.” You opened the door for him to enter and led him to your small couch, sitting down and patting the spot next to you.

He had tried really hard not to look at your chest in that skin-tight tank top you were wearing, but when he sat down, his eyes, almost as if they had a mind of their own, traveled down and noticed your hard nipples pushing through the fabric, and he had to suppress a groan from escaping his lips.

“Couldn’t stop thinking about you. I—fuck… you don’t leave my mind for a second,” he admitted.

“Well, that’s a start, you know, you finally admitting that you think of me in your bed.” You teased him, trying to make fun of him just for the pleasure of watching him squirm.

He clenched his hands, a useless attempt to restrain himself from pulling you close and kissing you senseless. His eyes roamed over your figure, lingering on your thighs, exposed under those shorts that were way too tiny, and he felt the heat returning to his body.

You noticed the way he was staring, like a wolf examining its prey before pouncing.

“You like what you see, old man?” You couldn’t help but test him; you knew you had him right where you wanted him.

“Don’t be a smartass… I’m a man. Of course, I’m gonna look.” His voice was low with desire.

“Why don’t you come and get a taste then?” you bit your lip as you spoke.

And that was all it took. He finally reached out to you, his fingers slowly running down the soft skin of your arm until they reached your thigh, sending sparks through your body. It was all too much for him; you felt too good under his hands, and he needed more. He desperately needed more, as if it was a matter of life or death.

He leaned closer, so close you could feel each other’s breaths, smell each other’s shampoo, so close you could almost taste each other.

“Fucking finally,” you whispered into his mouth, teasing him one last time before Joel lost the last shred of restraint he had left in his body. He closed the distance and crushed his lips against yours in a passionate kiss.

His right hand tangled in your hair, keeping you close as he devoured your mouth with a need you’d never seen before. His other hand was on your hip, pushing you down onto the couch.

He climbed on top of you, his mouth continuing to taste yours as his hands roamed freely over your body, finally finding your breasts. He kneaded your soft flesh, taking your clothed nipple between his fingers and pinching it softly, making you gasp.

His touch was everything you had imagined: rough, passionate, and masculine.

You broke the kiss just when your lungs gave out. If you were wet before, you were soaked now, tugging off his shirt, revealing his toned body.

“Holy fuck, it should be a crime to hide all of this under a shirt,” you muttered, breathless as your hands explored his muscular chest and stomach.

He would’ve laughed, but he was too lost in the moment. His body trembled with pent-up desire and anticipation, which only worsened as he felt your hands over his body.

Joel moved back to your neck, kissing, licking, and nibbling at it with desperation. Then slowly began to move down your body. He wouldn’t let one part of you go without a touch or taste.

He kissed your stomach, making you squirm, but you couldn’t move; his grip on your hips was tight. He only let go to move his hands to the waistband of your shorts, letting out a growl when he finally slid them down your legs—shorts and panties in one go—leaving you completely bare in front of him, spread out and just for him to do whatever he pleased.

Joel pushed your legs wide apart, making room for himself between them. His head was only inches away from your glistening center.

“Are you this fucking wet just from some kisses?” He looked up at your face, noticing the utter desperation in your eyes, almost begging him to do something—anything—to take the ache away from between your legs.

He let out a low laugh as he moved his face closer, his tongue darting out to take a lick of your dripping slit. Joel grunted softly—if heaven had a taste, he was sure it’d taste just like this. His tongue circled your clit with experienced precision, and you couldn’t help the loud whimper that left your lips.

He stopped his ministrations for a second. His warm breath against you.

“Like that, darlin’? Tastes like fucking heaven, this cunt… fucking sweet.” He didn’t give you time to answer as he went right back to work, his tongue moving faster through your folds, drawing delicious circles around your puffed clit as his hand gripped your hips, anchoring you in place and making sure you’d be all bruised tomorrow.

You looked down to see his head buried in between your thighs. He was eating you out like a starved man, like you were the first meal he’d eaten in days, and you could feel how much he was enjoying it—getting off from your pleasure.

Joel had to buckle his hips against the couch trying to find some relief for his aching cock, but hearing you moan and whimper only made him want you more, and so his tongue began to push inside your entrance, deep and slow.

“Oh Joel, yes… yes… don’t stop… just like that.” You cried out, your hand tugging at his hair, trying to hold onto something as he fucked you with his tongue.

It only took a couple more minutes before you let out a loud whimper, cumming around his tongue. He felt it—your spasms, the way your walls clenched around him—and he kept going to help you ride out your orgasm, pulling away only after he had slurped the last of your delicious juices.

You tried to regain your breath after that intense experience, but you got only more turned on as you saw Joel wiping your fluids from his chin and mouth with the back of his hand.

“Oh my god… who taught you how to eat pussy like that?” you asked him, half-joking, half-serious.

He laughed softly, his hands roaming over your body—your thighs, stomach, breasts—squeezing the flesh softly. “Years of experience.” He murmured, leaning closer to your face. “But yours is the best I’ve ever tasted.”

Joel kissed you once again, and you could taste yourself on his tongue, only fueling your desire for him—if it was possible to desire him even more.

“Darlin’, I gotta have you… I need to be inside of you,” he muttered, his voice a silent plea.

“Yes… god… yes, Joel, please,” you whimpered pathetically, and your shaky hands fumbled with his belt, feeling the thick shape of him through his jeans.

He grunted, removing your trembling hands with more urgency. He undid his pants himself with impatience, tugging them down just enough to free his cock

You looked down, and your jaw dropped. That was a gorgeous cock if you ever saw one—big, thick, pushing up against his stomach, the tip glistening with a bead of precum.

“Oh god, Joel,” you breathed out.

“Do you want it?” He pumped his throbbing cock with one hand, feeling like it might explode right now.

“Please, Joel… I need it so much.”

With one hand, he spread your legs wider, and with the other, he took the shaft and guided the tip of his cock right on your wet cunt, dragging it teasingly slow to gather all your slick before positioning it on your entrance.

He took a slow breath to steady himself before finally pushing inside—one big and deep thrust that made you see stars.

You whimpered loud, your body shivering as you felt the way he was stretching you open. He gave you one second to adjust to his size before he pulled all the way back, just to slam into you harder this time.

He was so big, bigger than any other guy you’d been with before, it stung for a moment, but the pleasure swallowed the pain whole.

“Holy fuck, how are you this tight?” he groaned as he squeezed his eyes closed just for a second so he wouldn’t lose it. “I swear this cunt was made for me… made to take this cock.”

Joel began to move, his pace completely relentless and unforgiving, each thrust, each roll of his hips, making him go deeper inside of you. His hands kept moving all over your body, gripping you like he needed to brand every inch of you as his.

“Oh Joel… feels so good,” you said between moans. “Please don’t stop… keep going… harder.”

His hands moved to the back of your thighs and maneuvered your legs so they were hooked over his shoulders, this new angle allowing him to dive deeper into you—so deep you could feel him pressing against your cervix, and your moans became cries of pure pleasure.

You’d never seen a man in such a state—completely animalistic, possessed, in the way he moved, almost violently, and in the sounds he let out of his mouth: growls and groans proper of a wild animal.

“Cum for me… need to feel you cum on my cock,” he almost begged with his ragged voice. “Need to feel that pretty pussy squeezing me so tight.”

Joel’s hand made its way in between your bodies, and his thick fingers found your bundle of nerves, tracing hard circles around it, the pace of his thrusts never slowing.

You felt the tears in your eyes, completely overstimulated by his cock and fingers both working in unison to get you there again.

“I’m—oh Joel… I’m cumming! I’m cumming!” you sobbed, tears falling down your cheeks. Joel felt the way you clenched around his cock as you came, and it was the most delightful sensation he’d ever experienced.

He felt his own climax approaching. He wasn’t even sure how he managed to last so long when you felt so incredibly good—he definitely deserved a prize for that.

“Oh yes, darlin’… feels so good cumming for me like that.”

God knows there was nothing he wanted more in this moment than to cum inside of you, painting your insides white and filling you up with his seed until it was dripping out of your cunt. But he knew he couldn’t. So, with the last ounce of self restraint he had left, he managed to pull out, his hand wrapping around his cock as he stroked it—one, two, three times—then he let out a groan that sounded like a wounded animal, and his cum shot out of him, hot and thick now coating your lower stomach in creamy white.

He stared at the sight, admiring his artwork for a second before he collapsed next to you on your couch, completely spent and feeling hazy after the intense pleasure he had experienced. His only thought in mind was how he wanted to do this again, and again, and again.

Joel buried his head in your neck, nuzzling it as he tried to calm himself down and catch his breath again. “You alright?” he asked, his soft voice contrasting with how intense it sounded before.

“I’m better than alright… shit… that was…” You struggled to find words that described how amazing it all felt, to finally have him after so much time of fantasizing about him—and realizing that he was even better than you had expected.

“I know,” he said on your neck, as if he was thinking the same things you were thinking. His hand roaming over your body, not with intense passion like before, but with a tender and soft touch to give you comfort after the intense moments of pleasure you both shared.

“How long was it since you last did this?” You knew you probably shouldn’t ask, especially since he was always so reserved, but it was a question that had been in your mind for a long time.

He sighed, and you could feel how his body tensed. Not because he struggled with being honest with you, but because the answer reminded him of how long he’d forced himself to be alone. He was quiet for a few moments. “A long time…”

You already assumed it had to be a long time. “Very specific, like always.”

He grunted, and you could notice he was slightly annoyed by your insistence. “It’s been… years,” he admitted. He’d had needs, sure, but the vulnerability of sex—the intimacy of it—was something he hadn’t allowed himself in a very long time. Not until you.

“And… did you enjoy it? Now, I mean—was it good for you?” Yes, you knew that he came, but after many years without having sex, you couldn’t help but wonder if it was what he expected.

He chuckled at your question, like you had asked the most stupid thing. He pulled you closer, a small smirk playing on his lips. “Of course I enjoyed it. I’d have to be dead not to.”

“Good, ’cause I did too.” You smiled softly, your voice just barely above a whisper.

He held you tight against his body, his eyes closing as he enjoyed the feeling of you pressed against him and the warmth of your body. Wondering if this could be the beginning of something—if he could allow himself to love and be loved again.

Part 2 here

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littlelamy · 3 months ago

Note

can you do with rafe and !reader who faints a lot during showers or just gets very lightheaded/has vasovagal episodes and can you just write like the things he does for you?

lamy's notes: i hope you like it!

the first time it happened, rafe didn’t even realize what was going on until he heard the thud. he’d been lying on the bed, scrolling through his phone, when the sound of you hitting the shower floor jolted him upright, his heart slamming in his chest.

he was at the bathroom door in an instant, throwing it open without a second thought. steam billowed out, and there you were, crumpled in the corner of the shower, the water still running over you. his mind went blank with panic for half a second before instinct took over.

“y/n, hey, hey, baby,” he muttered, dropping to his knees beside you, his hands shaking as he reached for you. he turned the water off first, then gently propped you up against the cool tiles. “hey, can you hear me?”

your eyes fluttered open, dazed and unfocused, and he let out a shaky breath, relief crashing through him. “what the hell happened?” he asked, his voice breaking slightly.

“just got… lightheaded,” you mumbled, your words slurring a little. “i’m okay.”

“okay? you scared the shit out of me,” he said, cradling your face in his hands like he was afraid you might disappear if he let go. “jesus, you’re freezing.”

from that day on, he’d made it his mission to make sure it never happened again. if you were going to shower, so was he. it didn’t matter what he was doing; he’d drop everything the second you said you were heading to the bathroom.

“just in case,” he’d say, his tone light but his eyes serious. he’d sit on the counter, cracking jokes and tossing you a towel before you even asked for it, his presence steady and comforting.

some days, when you were especially tired or feeling off, he’d insist on staying right outside the door. “yell if you need me,” he’d call, and you knew he meant it. you could practically picture him sitting there, legs stretched out, scrolling his phone but keeping an ear out for any sign that you needed him.

he started keeping a small stash of things in the bathroom just for you—a bottle of water, a pack of crackers, even a tiny fan he’d mounted to the wall to keep the room from getting too hot. “just in case,” he’d say again, shrugging like it was no big deal, but you could see the way he checked you over every time, his eyes scanning you for any signs of trouble.

on the nights when you’d get that familiar wave of lightheadedness, the kind that made your knees wobble and your vision blur, he’d wrap an arm around you without a word, guiding you to sit down on the cool tiles until it passed. “deep breaths, baby,” he’d murmur, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back.

it didn’t matter how many times it happened—he never got annoyed, never made you feel like a burden. if anything, it seemed like he’d made it his personal mission to keep you safe, to be your anchor when the world spun too fast.

sometimes, he’d just step into the shower with you, his hands gentle as he helped you wash your hair or rubbed your shoulders when you were too tired to do it yourself. “just lean on me, okay?” he’d say, his voice soft, water dripping off his face as he pressed a kiss to your temple.

on the tougher days, he’d insist on being in there from start to finish, his eyes never leaving you. he’d prop you up against his chest, his arms around your waist, holding you steady as the warm water cascaded over both of you. “it’s okay, i’ve got you,” he’d murmur, his voice steady and grounding.

when you’d protest that he didn’t need to, he’d just shake his head. “you think i’m gonna risk it? no way,” he’d say, his lips quirking into a small smile. “plus, it’s kind of nice. makes me feel useful.”

“not gonna let you hit the floor again,” he’d say with a small, determined smile, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. and you believed him.

taglist: @namelesslosers @maybanksangel @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @rafesheaven @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog @slavicangelmuah @alivinggirl @rafesgreasycurtainbangs

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inkskinned · 2 months ago

Text

people have to make their own choices and make their own mistakes and you know that but you're on your third gin cocktail.

she's almost-angry while she talks. "he took the train with me. all the way home. it's an hour in the wrong direction." she's got a bright yellow raincoat and round glasses. she looks cute and thoughtful and like she reads books a lot. she's his type and you know that.

the bartender rolls her eyes and points to you. "he drove this one to her grandma's house. six hours both ways."

you were younger then, hadn't ever kissed a girl yet. were still saying "bicurious" because of your irish catholic family. it was so long ago skinny jeans were still socially acceptable.

and you'd met him, and he'd been perfect. his narrow face and dark hair and his wry self-deprecation. and - okay, yes, the fact he was a singer/songwriter was also hot. you liked the feeling of sundays with him, the two of you noodling through his new songs together while you slowly learned to play bass guitar. you liked writing his name on your converse. you liked his ironic "mom" tattoo and his fancy coffee obsession and his scrappy handwriting.

you didn't know, then, what kind of man he was. maybe he didn't either; he was young too. you say it into your earl-grey-gin-something. "he has... a playbook, i guess. the things he does... he does it with everyone."

she looks at you with wide, beautiful eyes. jesus christ, she's young. "we stood outside in the rain, just talking," she says. "i know that can't be fake. i have a ton of, like. examples here. he's a good guy. you should have seen him. i'm not, like, a complete idiot."

did you play defense attorney with him like this? did you bristle when others warned you about how quickly he leaves women?

you gnaw the thin black straw and stare at the other side of the building, where his band is setting up to play. you have no true rage against him, but it's not fun to watch him ruin other women. "did he get you a little stuffed animal yet?" yours had been a panda.

she stares at you and then nods, just once, stiffly.

you hold out your hand and start listing things, weighing them on your fingers. "did he tell you that he'd never seen someone like you, that you move like a dancer or something?" at her nod, you continue. "buys you ice cream and then drives up to the river to watch the stars? shows up at your place just because he missed your voice? takes you to the pet store to look at the fish?"

the bartender points at you. "don't forget he does that little dog game he does."

you close your eyes. you remember him in his stupid leather jacket, bouncing on his toes. he'd gotten the petstore clerk to allow him to handle a ferret. you had vibrated with joy, wrestling the noodle bodies from hand to hand. and then he'd said we're going to live together. we're going to get a big dog and a big lawn and -

"you get into a fake fight about what you'll name the dog," you monotone.

"chili," she says. she sets her jaw a little higher, and you catch a flash of muscle clenching. "we settled on chili. it's gonna be an irish setter."

the bartender snorts while she maneuvers deftly through making a batch of espresso martinis. "sounds about right. now i've got two rotties, but when that shit happened to me? we chose Portland. and we were gonna get a samoyed." she snorts again. "as if he could afford that grooming bill."

you had actually started that conversation in the pet store. you wanted a big, slobbery dog. a mutt, but a big mutt. something mastiff-like. something that you could walk alone at night with. your family has a tradition of "letting the dog name itself," where you'd write all the potential names on a piece of paper and then throw them. whatever the dog went to, it'd be the dog's name.

but he had said name it something girly since it's so big. he suggested Lavender or Pansy. at the time you'd thought it was funny and cut and sort of sweet. he wanted to pick up a dog from the ASPCA that weekend, he said. i'm gonna go get us Lavender. you hadn't learned yet that he would promise you a river but never even deliver a raindrop.

"it's like this every time, babe," the bartender says, not unkindly. "i'm sorry. i've seen too many like this, and you seem like a sweet kid."

the other woman bristles. "i'm not a kid. thanks for your advice. but." she stands up, slaps a ten down, stalks away.

the bartender looks at you and holds her hands up and shrugs. you shake your head and look down into the drink, stirring it idly.

"do you think he's written her the four lines yet?" the bartender asks, pushing a drink to someone.

you almost flinch, but don't. you'd been in the back shed, practicing together. he said he had a present for you - the beginnings of a new song. really just a couplet more than anything, barely more than 30 seconds. it should have made you feel glorious, feral, glowing.

but you had stood there, realizing you had books of songs about him, none of which he ever agreed to play. the song he'd written you had floated through the room and you felt strange and disconnected and insane all at once - it was such a vapid, stupid stanza he'd made. and then he said that terrible phrase - i love you babe.

and you had been suddenly both very out of your body and also very present, thinking: oh my god this guy is a buffoon and i'm wasting my time. the spiralbound notebook with pages of poems and lyrics and stories you'd written for him is now stashed in some rubbermaid. you'd wanted to burn it at first, but the effort had exhausted you.

the four lines of song are usually pretty banal - something about her eyes, something about her smile, something about how she's special. but they work. they always work, because people want to believe in the magical commodity of love - that it cannot be manufactured.

later in the night you watch that man get on stage and sing punk rock to a thinning crowd. he takes the time out of the setlist to try out a "new song" that goes out to his girl in the crowd, all of 30 seconds of music. he says he likes her eyes and her smile and she's special.

you think about stopping her physically. you think about showing her the group chat of exes in your phone. you think of how young she is - maybe 22? - and how you, at 22, would have told your current self fuck right off. you had believed it too, after all. people need to make their own choices. besides. maybe you're wrong. maybe this time it actually is that precious, starry, once-in-a-lifetime love.

you see her kiss him afterwards, her cheeks pink. it looks like a puppy being swallowed by a wolf. you have to check the floor to make sure no blood was spilled.

#warm up #this is what i dreamt last night lol

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lowkeyerror · 4 months ago

Text

Instant Attraction

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Word Count: 11.5k

Notes: Stepmom!Wanda, pining, masturbation, kissing, thigh riding, cheating, mommy kink, lmk if there's anything else,

Summary: Your dad calls you home from college unable to afford for you to dorm. He doesn’t let you know that in the time you were gone, he had gotten married. When you meet his wife Wanda, you're instantly attracted to her. That attraction doesn't seem so one sided.

An: Could be persuaded to write another part... after I finish my request

Masterlist

You grew up in a single-parent household. Your dad spent most of his time at work, trying to provide you a better life. You could never hate him for that. Your mother, she decided that motherhood wasn’t for her when you were around 5. She left one night and never came back.

You weren’t a very social kid. You had a few friends, but no real affinity for going out. There was a preference on your side of things to stay in, watch movies, and play games. Even when you grew your interest stay the same.

There were times were your father nearly forced you out of the house, just so he could see the sun touch your skin.

You weren’t the smartest kid, but you weren’t an idiot either. You took your average grades and went to community college securing yourself a general AA before you decided to transfer to a Cal State University. Though your father originally paid for you to dorm, he mentioned that it was a bit expensive.

So next semester you’d be commuting between home and school. Honestly, you’d only dormed because your father had pushed for it in the first place. He’d thought it’d be a good opportunity for you to branch out.

Your roommate, Kate was pretty cool, but in actuality she was a bit of a loser just like you were.

“Back so soon Y/n L/n?”

The thick accent made a smile tug at the ends of your lips, “What can I say, I missed the scariest neighbor on the block. Who’s going to tarnish your hardcore image if it’s not me, Lena?”

You and Yelena had grown up together, she’d been your neighbor for as long as you could remember. One of the few people that you’d let into your social circle.

“I’m back to stay. My dad told me dorming was too expensive, so I get to come back home.”

Yelena laughs lightly, “I bet it’s out of his range now since he’s caring for a woman and her children .”

You look at her dumbfounded. Slowly the laughter stops and the smile disappears from her face.

“What are you talking about?”

“Do you not know?”

Her eyes are wide as she stares at you.

“Know what Yelena?”

She begins to sputter, “Holy shit, what kind of father doesn’t tell his daughter this things?”

You grab her by the shoulders and shake her a little, “What kind of things, Yelena? Would you just tell me?”

“Y/n… you’re father. Sometime near the beginning of your semester, he got married.”

Your eyes bulge out of your head, “He did what?!”

“Her name is Wanda, she’s got 2 sons, twins.”

You open and close your mouth a few times. Laughter builds from inside of you and before you know it, it’s spilling out, “Good one Lena, you almost had me there. My father, married. Jesus Christ, this is why I don’t have too many friends.”

“Y/n, I’m serious.”

“Sure you are, now help me take some of this in the house, since you’re here,” you grab a bag from your trunk, shoving it into the blonde’s hands.

You don’t fumble around looking for your keys, instead opting to ring the doorbell. You told your dad you were coming this weekend, and he said he’d be home to let you in.

“Y/n, I’m really not lying about the marriage,” Yelena nudges you as you wait for the door to open.

You roll your eyes, “Even if I did believe you, what poor woman would marry my father?”

You ring the doorbell again, becoming impatient with waiting.

“Red head, green eyes, mother of 2 kids but you can’t tell from her body. She honestly a really attractive woman, don’t know how he did it,” Yelena goes into the details.

You laugh a little more, “This hypothetical woman sounds like my type. Maybe I could steal her from him.”

Yelena joins in on the laughter, “Not with your inability to speak to women.”

You glare at her, “Not funny.”

Finally the door opens, except it’s not your dad. It’s a woman with red hair, green eyes, a body that definitely doesn’t look like she had two kids. You can’t help but gawk at her.

“You must be Y/n, I’m Wanda. Your father told me to welcome you in, he’s working, but he’ll be back soon.”

“Hi, Mrs. Maximoff,” Yelena spoke with a smirk on her face.

“Yelena, it’s good to see you again. Helping Y/n with her bags?”

Yelena nods, “She needs all the help she can get.”

You shove the blonde while maintaining your gaze on the redhead, “You married my dad?”

She laughs at the disbelief in your voice, “Yes, I did sweetheart. Is that alright with you?”

You’re at a loss for words when you hear her call you sweetheart, “I um… I’m going to head to my room.”

You rush into the house and up the stairs past the red head. Yelena offers the woman a bright smile as she trails behind you a much slower pace.

When the blonde enters your old room she finds you pacing back and forth. Your teeth are sinking into one of your knuckles as you try to get your thoughts going.

“So…”

“You weren’t lying,” you whisper, more to yourself than her.

“I was not.”

You keep pacing, “She has two kids?”

“Yup,” she pops the ‘p', taking a seat on your bed.

You pull out your phone to call your dad. The phone rings, so long that you almost hang up.

“Hey kid, what’s going on?”

You feel your anger growing at his relaxed tone, “ I just got home… and there’s a woman in our house. A woman that Yelena told me that you are married to! Dad, what the fuck? When did you get married? Who is this woman? When did you start dating? She has kids?”

“One question at a time Y/n, please.”

You scoff over the phone, “No, you’ve been lying to me for months now, possibly longer. I deserve the truth.”

You hear him sigh over the phone, “You’re right. I wanted to tell you, but I just didn’t know the right time. Wanda and I had been dating for almost 2 years, I didn’t want to introduce you two before I was sure she was the one.”

“Well technically you still haven’t introduced us. You were supposed to be here today.”

He sighs again, “I know kid, but work called last minute. I know I should’ve been there for this, and I’m fucking it up, but I swear Wanda is amazing, you just have to get to know her.”

“When did you get married?”

“A week after you left, it was… spontaneous. We ended up at courthouse and next thing I know, I’m Mr. Shawn Maximoff.”

You furrow your brow, “You took her last name?”

“It sounds cooler,” he concedes.

It does sound cooler so you don’t argue with him.

“I can’t believe you kept this from me. We’re supposed to be in this together. Thick as thieves, I have your back and you have mine, but you’re lying to me about things this important,” you sit on your bed next to Yelena.

“Y/n, I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to I promise. How about I come home right now, and we can talk about it in person?”

“That’s a start,” you relent.

“Alright, I’ll see you soon, love you.”

You let out a sigh of your own, “Love you, bye.”

When you hang up the phone, your head lands on Yelena’s shoulder. She pulls you into her side, rubbing your shoulder for comfort.

“There, there my friend. I’m sure everything will work out fine between you and your father. If not, you could always go with the plan of stealing Wanda away from him.”

You push her away from you, “Not funny.”

Yelena raises her hands in surrender, “It was just a suggestion.”

“Help me unpack,” you begin to unload your belongings.

Yelena deflates, but helps you regardless. When you’re done you can hear a car pull up in the driveway.

“Looks like your dad’s home.”

“Great.”

Yelena starts making her way to your bedroom door, “I love you, but I am not staying for whatever talk is about to transpire.”

“Fair,” you follow her to the front door.

“Last thing, will you be calling her mommy because-"

You open the door and push her through it, “Goodbye, Yelena.”

Your dad walks into the frame, chuckling at the scene. He waves to your friend, “Goodbye Yelena.”

She waves back, “Bye Shawn, bye Y/n.”

He closes the door behind him. Your dad turns to you and opens his arms. As upset as you are with him, you can’t deny him the hug. You wrap your arms around him, and he squeezes you tightly.

“Believe it or not, I really missed you kid.”

“Enough to get a whole new family,” you shot back him.

“That’s fair, let’s talk in the back.”

You agree, but you don’t make it to the backyard before running into Wanda again.

“Honey you’re home early,” Wanda strides past you and kisses your father.

The sight is strange to you. You knew that your father had dated after your mother, but he never brought anyone home. You had never seen him be intimate with anyone, it felt weird. At least that’s what you think the feeling is.

“I am, I owe Y/n an explanation for some things . So I thought it was best to come home and straighten things out.”

Wanda seems to understand what he’s alluding to, “Alright, while the two of you talk how about I get dinner started.”

They kiss again, and this time you turn away.

“Sounds good, let’s go kid.”

You follow your dad through kitchen and to the backyard. He stops for a second in the kitchen to grab two beers, before continuing outside. The two of you sit on the patio chairs, facing out towards the yard.

He opens both the drinks and hands you one wordlessly. You hate beer, but you’re not turning down this moment with your dad.

“I was lonely for a long time when your mom left Y/n. I wanted to unpack those feelings, but there was one feeling that I felt more than loneliness and that was fear. Fear that I wouldn’t be able to take care of you and that someone would take you away. There was nearly 10 years that I pushed those feelings of loneliness down, to focus on you, on us. It was what I supposed to do and I don’t regret it. I know I wasn’t always there for you in the way you needed me to be, but just know I was always thinking about how I could be better for you.”

He stops to take a swig of his beer, “Eventually, once I thought that you were old enough, I started dating. Nothing really stuck until I met Wanda. It was a chance encounter at some coffee place, she’d just had finalized her divorce. I wasn’t sure about it, but I also just couldn’t let her go without giving it a shot. Low and behold a shot turned into 2 years.”

You take a large gulp of beer, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was scared. I didn’t know how you’d react. We don’t really talk about your feelings about your mom, I just didn’t want you to think- that I was trying to put someone in that spot for you."

“I understand that feeling, but I would’ve like to meet her before you know, you got married.”

“It was so just such a quick decision. That we were already married before I realized that I fucked up. There wasn’t a ceremony or anything,” he explains.

You drink some more, “But it’s been months dad. You know I thought Yelena was lying to me in the driveway when she was saying something about a wife and 2 kids.”

He looks into his lap, “The longer I waited, the harder it got. I felt like a kid who was going to get scolded, I didn’t feel like I had the right words. I still don’t think I do. ‘Hey sport, so I’ve been seeing someone for 2 years and I got married how’s your first week of college going’.”

You laugh, “I guess I can see where you’re coming from, but I don’t want to be left in the dark like this ever again.”

“Yes mam,” he salutes you. “So how was your first semester? Get into any trouble, join any clubs, get a girlfriend maybe?”

You stop him there, “Pump your brakes, I still have questions about… your marriage. Like where are the two kids?”

“They’re at their father’s house. They usually do two weeks there, two weeks here. I think they might be spending more time with him this summer. Billy and Tommy are great kids, I think you’d get along with them pretty well. They’re into games and stuff like you. You’ll meet them. ”

“I’m assuming they’re younger.”

“15.”

Your eyes go wide, “She has two 15-year-old kids?”

Your dad chuckles, “Yes, she does. Wanda is actually older than me.”

“Bullshit,” you say in disbelief.

“Swear to god, I’m serious. She’s a really cool person once you get to know her.”

You hum, “Well she’s already in the family, so I don’t really have a choice, do I Mr. Maximoff?”

He gets up from his seat, beer bottle empty, “Isn’t your generation supposed to be the progressive one?”

You follow his lead, downing the rest of your drink, “You’re the one giving it negative connotation.”

“Whatever kid, I'm going to change out of my work clothes. How about you see if Wanda needs any help in the kitchen?”

You take in a deep breath, “I’ll do my best.”

He places a hand on your shoulder, leading you back inside, “She’s a nice woman Y/n, she’s not going to bite your head off or anything.”

Once you’re back inside, your dad heads upstairs, while to go towards the kitchen.

“It smells really good in here,” you say entering the space.

“Thanks, I’m trying something new today. Your dad said you’re a bit of a picky eater, but I hope you’ll like it.”

“Between us, I’ve always just said that because dad only knows how to cook 3 things,” you joke, and find yourself smiling harder when you hear Wanda laugh.

“Let me guess, burger, steak, salmon?”

“You survived eating the salmon?”

She laughs even harder, covering her mouth, “There were a few bones, but it was an honest attempt.”

“Is there anything I can help you with?” You ask, but you can see that she’s about done with everything.

“Could just get the plates for me, I know they’re right by me, but I have to keep stirring or-”

“It’s no problem, Wanda.”

You cut her off politely. The plates are stashed right above the stove. You come up behind Wanda, who is stirring the food in the skillet. You are taller than her so reaching above her is no problem. The only thing that you are unsure about is standing so close behind her.

Your front is only centimeters away from touching her back. When you reach over her, you think you hear her curse to herself.

“Is everything alright?”

“The food just got me a little, all good.”

You grab the plates and sit them on the counter next to her.

“So Y/n I hear you’re an English major.”

You nod, “I am.”

“I was too back in my day.”

You can't help but shake your head, “You look like you could still be in college.”

You see her blush at your words turning off the stove. You don’t know why seeing her blush makes you feel smug, but it does.

“Oh stop it,” she looks away from you.

“I’m serious, Wanda. I would’ve never guessed you were a mother let alone to two teenagers,” you continue to compliment her.

“A lot of people are surprised when I tell them how old I am,” she admits. “They all say that I look good for my age.”

You catch her gaze, “They should just tell you that you look good. Age is irrelevant.”

“You’re quite the charmer Y/n. I don’t blame them, I’m nearly 50.”

Your eyes go wide, “Wanda, I don’t believe you.”

She laughs, “It’s true, I’m 45.”

“I’d believe you if you said 25,” you’re serious when you speak.

The compliment flusters her, “Could you help me take the plates to the table?”

You grab 2 of the 3 plates sitting them at the table. You would’ve thought that Wanda would’ve set her plate next to your dad, but instead she sits next to you.

“You can dig in when you’re ready, no need to let the food get cold waiting for your dad.”

You take her words to heart and begin eating. After the first bite you find it impossible to stop. It tastes as good as it smelt while cooking. You could cry at the home cooked meal. Ramen packets and fast food could not compare. You had been prepared for a burger that your dad made or to go out for dinner, but this was better than you could’ve expected.

“I take it, you like it,” amusement present in her voice as she watches you devour the food.

“I haven’t had a home cooked meal in a long time and if I’m bring honest they never tasted like this.”

“Do you cook at all?”

You nod, “You’re looking at the family chef. I didn’t want to always eat steak, burger, and spaghetti. “

“How could I forget about the spaghetti? He’ll literally eat it all week.”

“Now you see why I was surprised when I found out he was married.”

Your dad finally makes an appearance, “What’s wrong with my spaghetti?”

“Nothing its good spaghetti, but all week dad?

“Well if it’s good, then I don’t see the problem.”

The three of you sit and chat through dinner. It comes surprisingly easy as you find yourself enamored by Wanda. You hang on every word she says, there’s this twinkle in her eye when she speaks. Her expressions are right there on her sleeves.

You don’t miss the way she bites her lip while she’s thinking, or the small hint of an accent in certain things she says. It makes you wonder more about how your dad could ever manage a woman like this.

When everyone is done eating, you stand up and begin to collect the dishes.

“I’ve got it Y/n,” Wanda tries to take them from you, but you stop her.

“No, it’s alright, you cooked it’s only fair I do the dishes.”

She smiles, giving your father a pointed look, “Maybe someone else should take notes.”

He gives you a playful glare, “Home for a couple hours and already making me look bad.”

You start on the dishes, taking the moment to yourself to gather your thoughts. No matter how many subjects you tried to shift through, the one your mind kept falling back to was Wanda.

She was truly one of the most beautiful women you had ever seen in your life. She was a virtual stranger to you, so there was nothing wrong with finding her attractive. You’d only just met her, it would take some time to get used to seeing her as your dad’s wife.

“I think that one is clean.”

Wanda’s voice startles you a bit causing you to jump lightly. Heat fills your face as embarrassment sets in.

“You caught me lost in thought,” your nerves are still high as you speak.

“What’s got you so far away sweetheart?”

You make the mistake of looking into her eyes. The genuine curiosity behind them paired with a gentle worry conveyed by the small furrow in her brow. You’re gawking again, your focus returns to the dishes.

“It’s just been me and my dad for long time.”

“I understand that , I know that you’re just meeting me-"

You stop her, “You’re lovely, Wanda. I’m not- I don’t have concerns about your relationship with him. I just… I don't know where I fit into all of this. With me moving back home, I feel like a stranger.”

Wanda takes the dish out of your hands and sits it in the rack. If she cares about the moisture level of your hands, she doesn’t say anything. She takes them in her own and looks into your eyes.

“This is your home Y/n. You will never be a stranger in it. It’s a lot to get used to, especially when it’s sprung on you so quickly and I'm sorry for that. Consider it my goal to make you feel at home.”

You don’t know when your eyes dropped to her lips, but it was abundantly clear they had when she stopped speaking.

“Sweetheart?”

You blink a few times regaining your awareness, quickly pulling your hand from hers, “Sorry, long day. I think I’ll turn in for the night, but thank you Wanda… for the food and the talk.”

You rush upstairs and close yourself in your room. What you never noticed was the faint blush on Wanda’s cheeks. She had seen you focus in on her lips while speaking. Honestly, she was finding the way you were looking at her hard to ignore. There was such a wanting in them. She was trying to ignore it, while still getting to know you, but that task was beginning to seem difficult.

She decided to wipe up the kitchen area. Her thoughts wander to when she opened the door for you. The way your eyes traveled the length of her body, the way your mouth stayed agape when she spoke.

You didn’t look a lot like your father. Wanda noted that you were tall and sort of lanky like he was, and you had a lot of his mannerisms, but physically she assumed you looked like your mother. You had soft features, that might have clashed a little with your urban aesthetic.

You presented yourself much how your dad described you. A bit shy, but truly a good mannered, funny kid. Wanda expected a little more social ineptitude, but she was surprised with how chatty you ended up being.

She wondered if it had anything to do with the way you perceived her. Truth be told she felt sorry for you, your father should’ve told you about this a while ago. She had heard about you and pressed to meet you, but he always had some excuse to why you couldn’t meet.

“So, what do you think?”

“I wish I would’ve met her a little earlier but she seems like a good kid,” Wanda turns to face her husband.

The man frowns, “I’m sorry, seeing you both interact made me realize that I could’ve done this much sooner.”

“How do you think she’ll interact with the boys?”

He smiles, “Y/n is basically one of the boys. You’ll see that side of her eventually. She’ll be in that room for the foreseeable future, until Yelena or someone else drags her out.”

“I could take her out for a girl’s day,” Wanda suggests.

Shawn laughs at her, “I’ve never known her to be into any of that stuff, but if that’s something you want to do, let me know. I’d probably have to convince her to agree.”

Wanda shakes her head, “I think I can get her to go all on my own.”

“Alright, don’t say I didn’t warn you. I’ll see you upstairs.”

The man makes his way upstairs to the bed. Wanda on the other hand, stays finishing up some minor things in the kitchen, before heading up herself.

She heads straight for the bathroom, ready to get the smell of the kitchen off of her. She wasn’t paying much attention on her way, looking at her phone. That’s how she found herself running straight into you. She would’ve fell if it weren’t your strong grip on her hips.

She went to apologize, but the words died on her lips as she saw water droplets falling from your skin. Her hands pressed against your slightly damp pajama shirt, in order to stabilize herself.

The shirt was thin enough, for her to feel your abdomen through it. She found herself at a loss for words.

“Are you alright Wanda?”

She nods meekly, “Sorry sweetheart, I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.”

“It’s no biggie, as long as you’re ok,” you help her fully upright, hands not leaving her side.

“All good, thanks to you,” Wanda struggles to meet your eyes.

You are about to squeeze her sides when you remember who this woman is. Your hands fall to your sides quickly. Nervous laughter build up in your throat, “I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“Y/n I was wondering if you'd be interested in having a girl’s day with me, before my boys come. I think it’d be good to have some bonding time.”

“I um- I’ve never really had a girl’s day,” you scratch the back of your neck awkwardly.

“Well, it’ll be my treat?”

You nod, “Ok, like tomorrow or…”

“Tomorrow is perfect.”

You give a thumbs up and make your way to your room, while Wanda goes into the bathroom.

You plop straight into your bed, slapping your hand on to your face, “Really Y/n, a girl’s day. What were we thinking?”

You knew exactly what you were thinking. Alone time with Wanda, piqued your interest. The feeling of her in her hands felt like it was etched into your memory. The way she was looking at you made your heart pound in your chest.

As you lay in bed, your mind begins to paint vulgar images in your head. Ones that you had yet to experience due to your introverted lifestyle. The farthest you had gone with another girl was some lackluster dry humping.

That didn’t stop you from imagining your hands on Wanda’s body. The way she softly gasped when your hands stopped her from falling. The feeling of her fingers against your abdomen, blessed for the thing material of your shirt. The addictive color of her lips, and how they could move against yours.

You couldn’t sleep with her on your mind and the wetness pooling between your legs. You sit up in your bed, leaning back against the headboard. It’s only a moment of contemplation, before you stick your hand under the band of your pajama pants.

Your fingers are determined as they draw tight fast circles around your clit. You want to expedite the experience as much as possible. There couldn’t be anytime to dwell on who you were thinking about.

With your eyes closed you could see her taking her shirt off. Her skin soft and cool under your fingertips. A trail of goosebumps in your wake. You could see her craning her neck as you sucked on the exposed skin, marking her as your own. You could feel her hands tugging at your hair, moaning your name as you tasted her.

“Fuck, Wanda,” you came with a grunt. Your eyes still closed as your fingers stilled against the mess you made of yourself.

On the other side of your bedroom door, Wanda was standing there in shock. She had heard some sounds coming from your room after exiting the bathroom. When she realized what the sounds were, she thought she should leave. Yet the sound of her name being whispered on your tongue along with the sound of you playing with yourself, kept her in place.

She found herself worked up after her shower. Wishing that she would’ve cracked the door to see you, touching yourself with her in mind. Simultaneously scolding herself for having thoughts like this running through her head.

She married your father, she liked your father, he was a decent man. He was good to her and her boys. So what if he was always working, who cares that he hid their entire relationship from the most important person in his life, and does it even matter that he hasn’t ever really given her an orgasm. This was her new husband and she shouldn’t be thinking about his daughter in this way.

Maybe asking for a girl’s day, wasn’t a good idea. Being closer to you seemed like a dangerous game, lines that Wanda couldn’t allow herself to cross.

It was hard for her, knowing your young prying eyes were on her. From what she had heard, you already wanted her. The token of a youthful want and desire, it went right to her core.

When she finally made her way back to her room, she had decided that she needed some relief. She was going to seek it from your father, but the man already laid snoring. She shook him a couple of times in hopes to wake him up, but her attempts were met with swats of her hand and incoherent grunting.

Wanda huffed with irritation sliding into her side of the bed. She let herself get off to the thought of you that night unable to think herself guilty.

Your father was out of the house before Wanda or yourself had woken up in the morning. Wanda hated waking up to an empty bed, but it had become her new normal.

She didn't bother getting ready for the day yet. She simply stretched some, before brushing her teeth, and heading downstairs for breakfast. She was surprised to find you in the kitchen, cooking.

You hadn’t recognized her presence yet, too caught up in breakfast. Music played lowly through the kitchen and you hummed along. You thought it’d be a nice gesture to make breakfast since Wanda had cooked dinner last night.

The older woman watched you in somewhat of a trance. Your movements were a little clumsy, but it was clear that you had been doing it like this for a while. She could see herself coming up behind you and wrapping herself around you as you cooked for her.

Her muscles twitched at the thought. She took in a deep breath before she finally announced her presence, “Good morning.”

You turn away from the stove to smile at her, “Perfect timing, I'm almost done with breakfast.”

“You didn't have to do all of this, your dad’s not even here to enjoy it.”

You shrug your shoulders, “I figured he’d be at work anyway. Consider this a thank you for dinner."

You bring her a plate along with some coffee before getting your own.

“Y/n, this is amazing,” Wanda praises you.

You grow bashful, “It’s nothing really. So, what’s on the agenda for our girl’s day?”

Wanda ponders for a moment, “How about you tell me some things you like to do and we’ll go from there?”

You stumble a bit, “I uh- I don't really like to do much. Dad and I never really did anything more than like going to a park and sometimes fishing.”

“What about the mall? People your age are into shopping, right?”

You laugh, “I’ve only really been back to school shopping.”

Wanda shakes her head, “Today, I guess I’m going to introduce you to some of life’s little luxuries. I’m going to need you to trust me.”

You give her a small smile, “I trust you.”

You say it so earnestly that it nearly scares her.

“Good, so we’ll head out after we’re done eating and getting dressed.”

After cleaning up and getting dressed you regrouped in the living room. You tried your best to not let your eyes linger over Wanda’s attire. She wore a simple yellow sundress, it wasn’t anything extravagant but it looked good on her. It almost made you want to change out of your t-shirt and jeans, feeling a little underdressed.

“Ready?”

You answer her, and soon you’re in the passenger seat of her car with no idea where you’re going. You both make pleasant small talk, not really feeling the need to fill the silence. The only thing you make conscious effort to do is not stare at her cleavage in the dress.

It hard to erase the images that you pictured last night, but for your own sake you try.

The first place Wanda takes you is a nail shop. You had been before, but it had honestly been years. She opted for a manicure and pedicure, while you just got a manicure. You were usually a clear coat type of girl but today you decided to get black paint.

After your nails, Wanda decides to take you to the mall.

“Ok, whatever you want in here, is on me today,” she says as you enter the shopping center.

Your eyes go wide, “Wanda, I couldn't ask you for that.”

“Good thing you didn't ask sweetheart,” she responds and you feel yourself melt a little.

“I’m not even good at shopping, I don't really know what looks good on me,” you admit to the woman.

She pauses her steps to give you a once over. Her eyes dragging slowly across your body, as if she was personally undressing you then and there.

“Honey, you should've never told me that. Now, I’m afraid you're going to have to indulge me through these stores.”

“What does that mean?”

Wanda’s tone is playful, “Don’t worry your little head about it sweetheart, I’m going to help you find some clothes.”

It's not a second later that she’s grabbing your wrist and pulling you into a clothing store. She starts grabbing clothes and holding them up to your body, trying to see what looks good. She had a pile of clothes in her arms that she was shoving into your hands.

“Try these on,” she pushes you to the dressing rooms.

A lot of the stuff she had was stuff you’d never grab for yourself, but it did all look good on you. There were a few pieces, particularly crop tops, that you weren’t too sure about.

“I think I look weird,” you come out in the crop top.

You have something of a jacket over it. You look down at your exposed stomach before looking up at Wanda. There’s something in the way she’s looking at you.

“It looks good,” her tongue swipes across her bottom lip. “But if you’re uncomfortable then you don’t have to get it.”

“Do you really think it looks ok?”

She stands from her spot and makes her way over to you. Her hands fiddle with the end of the shirt. She adjust the waistband of your jeans. With a few quick tugs, she has you seeing the outfit in a different way.

“I do.”

You nod, “Ok, I see it.”

“You should wear it out,” she suggests and you comply.

You thought it’d be over after the one store but Wanda takes you into 3 more clothing store, racking up a whole new wardrobe. At the end you practically had to beg her not to spend any more money.

“Do you want to go in there, your dad mentioned you’re a big gamer?”

She nods her head to the video game store that you admittedly had been eyeing since the last store you went in.

You shake your head, “You’ve already spent so much and games are like $70 now.”

“ So I’m going to take that as a yes,” she starts walking ahead into the store.

You groan, but follow her in anyway, “Wanda, can I ask what you do for work?”

She laughs, “Why, so you can feel a little better about me spending the money?”

“Maybe,” you say browsing through a few games.

“Well, I used to work in real estate and now I do editing for major publications books, magazines, things like that.”

“That seems like a big jump,” you point out.

She nods, “It is, but I’m much happier editing than I was selling houses. The real estate did give me a good standing to be able to chase and finance my dreams. It’s honestly given me more money than I know what to do with. So I usually just don’t do anything with it.”

“Does my dad know?”

Wanda adverts her eyes, “No, he doesn’t. Your dad really enjoys being a provider. He wants to be the breadwinner and bring home the bacon. He doesn’t even let me pay for dinner. I pay for some of the bills at home and he doesn’t even want me to do that. I’ve been trying to coerce him into letting me do more but-”

“He’s a stubborn guy,” you finish her thoughts. “When I was in high school, I got a job at the movie theater to help out with some things around the house and for college. Dad was really…insecure about letting me help. He wanted to prove he could do it on his own.”

Her eyes soften, “Oh wow."

“Yeah, I think it has something to do with my mom walking out on us, but I don’t know. We never really talked about it,” you say picking up a game.

Wanda knew this topic to be sensitive to your dad. He had mentioned it, but never went into detail. When Wanda tried to press for information, he'd either shut down or get irritated, she wonders if he was the same with you.

“No pressure, but if you ever want to talk about it or vent, I’m here for you.” She takes the game from your hands, “I know it’s not your dad’s favorite topic and I know I don’t have the answers you’re probably looking for, but I don’t mind listening to you.”

You look at her for a long moment. Your eyes are watering against your will. You blink back the tears and nod silently. You never really talked about your mom, truth be told you never unpacked those feelings yourself.

“I- I’ve never really talked about it with anyone. I don’t know how I feel about it, I mean I was only 5.”

Wanda thinks of her words carefully, “Do you remember her?”

You laugh lightly, still pretending to browse the games, “Of course I do, she was my mom. She brushed my hair, tucked me in, put band aids on my scrapes and cuts, and she never got mad when I got grass stains on my clothes.”

Wanda keeps quiet as she senses you have more to say.

“She was a stay-at-home mom, so I spent most of my time with her. I don’t- I wish I remembered what she looked like more. I look like her, I know I do, but… I don’t know it’s not enough.”

Wanda rests her hand on your back. Rubbing small circles bringing you more comfort than you thought you needed. You place your hand in her other hand, sighing deeply.

“I wish I knew why she left. Dad never told me, I just know that one day I woke up and she wasn’t there. He told me she wasn’t coming back. I never wanted to ask him, he was already doing so much to prove that he could be enough. I’m grateful for that, for him… but in the back of my mind I can’t help but wonder, you know.”

A teardrop falling onto your cheek, pulls you quickly out of the moment. You wipe your eyes with your sleeve and take a step back from Wanda.

“Y/n-"

“I’ve heard really cool things about that game. I’ve been wanting it for a few months now,” you pivot topics, clearing your throat.

“Then it’s yours sweetheart.”

You were grateful that she just let it go.

After that you both decide to call it a day and head back home. You bring all of your new clothes to your room and begin to put them away. You decide to take a quick shower and change into more comfortable clothes before heading down to the living room. Usually you’d keep to yourself in your room, but you were secretly hoping Wanda would join you.

“What’re you watching?”

“Back to the Future, it’s one of my favorites,” you make room for her on the couch next to you.

She takes a seat, “Mine too.”

You perk up, “Really?”

She nods, “Me and my brother used to watch it all the time when we were younger.”

The two of you sit in silence as you watch the movie. Unbeknownst to either of, the space between you grows slimmer by the minute. You take a peek at the woman to find her eyes fluttering, before they finally close. She had already nearly been laying on the couch. Her feet are up, bent to lay over each other. She had been holding up her head in her hand. Now as she fell unconscious her head had drops into your lap.

You feel your heart rate pick up. The movie suddenly becomes uninteresting. You don’t want to move, unwilling to wake the woman. She looks peaceful in her sleep. You notice how she twitches lightly and though you shouldn’t your fingers begin to comb through her hair. She hums in your lap, but you don’t still. Your fingers work gingerly to bring her comfort.

She stops twitching and you refocus on the movie with your hand still in her hair. Eventually you find yourself dozing off as well.

“Well, well, well looks like girl’s day was a success,” it’s your father’s voice that wakes both you and Wanda.

The red head becomes alert first, she notes her position in your lap and your hand in her hair and immediately bolts up right. You’re slower to come to stretching widely before open your eyes.

“Yeah, it was pretty fun,” you say while yawning.

“I see some nail polish Y/n, that’s new.”

You shrug, “It’s not the first time.”

“I know but it’s been a while, having another girl around the house is nice, isn’t it?”

You let out a huff of irritation, completely aware of what he was insinuating. For the most part your dad was in support of your sexuality. However, there were some jokes he just couldn’t let go of. The “gay” thing was fine with him, but he still believed that you could stand to be more ladylike. Which was completely rich coming from the man that raised you on fishing trips, Miller Lite, and WWE.

“So, ladies what’s for dinner?”

Wanda goes to answer but you speak over her, “Honestly dad, I was hoping for some of your burgers tonight.”

Your father beams with excitement, “Will do kiddo, just let me shower first and I’ll be in the kitchen.”

You both watch as he wanders up the stairs.

“You didn’t want to cook, did you?”

“No, not really. Thank you for the save and for letting me nap on you,” she adverts her gaze as she speaks to you.

“I’m happy to help in any way I can,” you say to her, not noticing the undertone of your statement.

Her eyes become dark as she looks at you. The lust filled look in her eyes has you reeling at what you said. There’s no point in taking it back now. You swallow thickly under her gaze, but don't make any motion to move away from her. Instead, you find yourself compelled to lean in closer.

Wanda let’s you get within a few inches of her face, before breathlessly letting your name fall from her lips, “Y/n.”

You close your eyes, “You can’t just say my name like that, Wanda.”

“You can’t make statements like the one you made,” she fires back.

Both of you give leeway to how you’re actual feeling. You go to move closer to her, but her hand on your shoulder keeps you away. It honestly breaks you from whatever pulled you in, in the first place

The tips of your ears heat up as you stand abruptly, “Sorry, I- I’ll see you at dinner.”

Much like when you were a teenager you lock yourself in your room. Wanda picks up a pillow from the couch putting it over her head, pretending to scream into it.

You send a quick text to Yelena. Something along the lines of saying you should hang out tomorrow. She is in disbelief at the fact that you want to do something out of the house, but is equally as excited. She says she’s taking advantage of this and keeping you out all day.

You needed to get out of the house. You stayed in it so much because you deemed it as a safe space. However, with Wanda around… you didn’t know if you could truly call it safe. It had only taken two days for you to almost kiss her.

There wasn’t a bone in your body that was used to moving this quickly. It had taken you years to develop your first crush and even longer before you acted on any such feeling. Yet with Wanda everything felt different. You weren’t a believer in love at first sight, you wouldn’t call what you were feeling love. This attraction… for lack of a better term just felt intense.

It was almost as if every interaction had a double meaning to it. It was something that the other woman was clearly also aware of. Neither of you should be acting on it and technically you hadn’t done anything. The problem was that you wanted to, and you didn’t see those feelings going away anytime soon. It was only the second day and you had the rest of your life to go.

One day out with Yelena became a couple days of the week out with her. You even had started texting your former roommate to see if she’d be down to hangout as well. So save for the first two days, you spent every day out and about.

You had similar plans for the next week too, but they came to a halt quickly when your dad mentioned Wanda’s kids coming back from their dad’s. He made it clear that he wanted you to be there to meet them so your plans of avoiding home, became a little more complicated.

So once again you were stuck in your room. The doorbell ringing is the only reason you had left the space. You knew that your dad was out and Wanda was working in her office at the time, so you were the only option.

It rang one more time, before you got to it. When you open the door, you are met by two teenage boys and an older looking man. You stare at them and they stare back at you.

“Is Wanda in? I would like to have a talk with her,” the man in the middle speaks.

“She’s working right now.”

He rolls his eyes, “And who are you exactly?”

Something about his tone makes you jaw twitch, “I’m Y/n, Shawn’s kid.”

“Right, the one he was hiding away.”

“Dad-”

Dealing with stuck up assholes was unfortunately nothing new to you, “Billy, Tommy you guys can head on in.”

They look from their father to you before quickly making the decision to go inside. The man trues to go in behind but you block his entry.

“They live here, you don’t. I suggest you try talking to Wanda again sometime next week…” you smile at him.

“Jarvis,” he says through gritted teeth.

“Goodbye Jarvis,” you slam the door in his face.

You clap your hands together as you turn around. You slightly startle at the presence of the teen boys behind you. There’s an awkward silence as you stare at each other.

“So, your mom said you guys are gamers?”

That’s all it took for the three of you to hunker down in the living room and start gaming. From Mario Kart to Mario Party to Mortal Kombat, the three of you rotted the day away. You end up ordering some pizza and junk food, which is essential for all gaming marathons.

“I love your style by the way,” Billy says grabbing a slice of pizza.

You raise an eyebrow at him, “You might as well just ask me if I'm gay.”

Tommy laughs at this, which earns him a slap in the arm from Billy.

“Well… are you?”

“Yep.”

“Girlfriend?” Tommy asks.

“Nope, how about you two?”

Billy smiles, “I have a boyfriend.”

He goes on telling you some details. You genuinely feel happy for the boy. To be young, out, and dating is really cool.

“That’s really cool Billy.”

“Thanks, I wish my dad thought so too.”

Tommy jumps in the conversation, “Dad is fucking stupid, what does he know about any kind of relationship.”

You agree with Tommy, “I mean he did fumble your mom.”

They both laugh, but Billy brings the conversation back, “I just wish he was more accepting.”

“He’s either going to come around because he loves you or keep showing you who he really is. Either way you still have your mom, your bother, your boyfriend, and even me to rely on. So just cause your dad isn’t accepting doesn't mean you aren’t accepted,” you tell him sincerely.

“He wanted to talk to mom about Billy’s boyfriend. He thinks it’s… inappropriate,” Tommy spills.

“Well I don't think it's any of his business, and even if he did tell your mom she’d have your back,” you say like it’s obvious.

“If who told me what?”

Wanda comes out from her office and her kids greet her. She’s surprised to see you downstairs with them, but doesn’t comment on it.

“Dad doesn't approve of Billy’s boyfriend,” Tommy says again earning an agitated look from his brother.

“Yeah, he was going to talk to you, but Y/n kicked him out,” Billy says awkwardly.

You keep your focus on the game, “I didn’t kick him out… I slammed the door in his face.”

“Y/n!”

“It was well deserved. He asked who I was, I told him. Then the asshole has the audacity to refer to me as ‘the one he was hiding' when trying to get into my house. I think the fuck not.”

Wanda walks in front of your TV blocking the game. You pause it and look up at her to find an unexpected fury in her eyes.

“What did he say to you?”

You meet her eyes, urging her to calm down, “I handled it.”

She takes the hint, moving out of your way, “I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

She then focuses on talking with her children, recapping the week that they had. Billy also goes into some less than nice details of what his father had to say about his boyfriend.

Wanda’s hand presses against her brow line hearing the details. She’s clearly irritated with the twin’s father.

“I’ll talk to him, and you tell me if he says anything else. I have no issue coming to get you guys if he makes you uncomfortable,” Wanda says hugging the boys.

You take this moment between the family to go upstairs. You breath in the minute to yourself. The twins were nice, and it was cool to have people in the house to game with. They’d seem like people who’d you befriend at their age.

“Thanks for hanging out with my kids and for the stuff with their dad,” Wanda stands in your doorway.

You give her a small nod, “Billy and Tommy are cool. Their dad… less cool. So it was my pleasure to slam the door in his face.”

Wanda chuckles, “Jarvis is an asshole.”

You join in on her laughter, “Yeah, I definitely can’t see you with that guy.”

“I was young and naïve. If I knew then what I know now, I wouldn’t have stayed for so long.”

“How young?”

Wanda sighs, “18. He was older, more appealing back then.”

You can’t hide your reaction, “Oh.”

“Yeah, but that asshole gave me my kids. So I guess he was good for something.”

You disagree with her, “Just cause a guy is good for something, doesn’t mean he’s good for you.”

“Where were you when I was in my prime, Y/n?” her words have a double meaning.

You look at her, more serious than a heart attack, “I’m right here, and your prime is far from over.”

She shudders under your look, “Y/n.”

“I wish you could feel how hard it is for me to do the right thing, Wanda. I hate leaving the house, but I know if I was here all day with just you, I’d lose it.”

You’re lying on your back in bed. Your eyes cut from Wanda to the ceiling.

“Y/n, I’m married to your father.”

“He doesn’t even fuck you,” you say with a bored tone.

“Y/n!”

You don’t return her reaction, “I’ve been waiting to see if I’d have to plug my ears, or move downstairs so I didn’t have to hear. But it hasn’t happened yet. Probably too tired from work.”

“Y/n my kids are downstairs.”

Your head falls into your hands, “I’m sorry. I-I’m going to head out for a bit.”

You get up and go for your door. Wanda doesn’t move out of your way. She stands still in your doorframe.

“Where are you going?”

“I don't know, Lena’s if she’s home.”

Wanda frowns hearing this, “You don’t have to-”

You lock eyes with her’s, “I do.”

Wanda’s hand caresses your cheek. You lean into her touch. You hear her take an unsteady breath.

“You make this so hard for me.”

She slowly removes her hand, only to replace it with her lips. It’s enough to ignite a fire in your body. They linger, much longer than they should.

“Be safe,” she fixes your clothes a little, before finally clearing your path.

“Wanda-"

“I’ll see you back for dinner,” she says walking away from you.

When you think she can't see you anymore, you touch your cheek. The spot where her lips had been. You slip out of the house and make your way to Yelena’s.

You knock on the door and wait for her to answer. When she does, you don't let her say anything. You drag her upstairs to her room. You lock her door, before you start pacing in her room. She sits on her bed watching you.

“So… are you going to tell me what this is about?”

“I need this to be a judgement free zone.”

Yelena tilts her head, “Then why come here?”

“Yelena, I’m serious.”

She raises her hands in surrender at your snappy tone, “Fine, what is it?”

“I’m attracted to Wanda, and I think… she’s attracted to me.”

Yelena laughs as you stare at her. The laughter goes on for minutes before she realizes that you aren't laughing.

“Y/n, are you being serious?”

You close your eyes, “Lena there’s this tension. I just thought it was in my head. I almost kissed her, I don’t know what’s going on. I’ve been going out, and stuff just to stay away from her. She’s driving me insane.”

“You tried to kiss her!”

“She gave me this kiss on the cheek. She said I was making it hard for her. Yelena I’ve never felt like this for anyone,” you tell your best friend.

“Dude you’re fucked,” is all that she says.

“I know.”

“She’s your dad’s wife.”

“I know.”

“She has 2 kids.”

“I know.”

“Did I say she’s your dad’s wife already?”

You groan joining her on the bed, “I- I don’t know if I care about it. I mean I do, but he doesn’t even treat her that good. It could be worse, but it’s not great.”

“And you think you can do better?”

“I’d worship her.”

Yelena shakes her head, “I can’t believe you right now. You’re trying to get with your dad’s wife, she’s like almost 30 years older than you.”

“Can you blame me, you’ve seen her? It’s not my fault. If I would’ve met her before, maybe it would be different. It’s just like I come home and there’s this undeniably attractive woman in my house. She doesn’t feel like my dad’s wife to me."

Yelena nods along, “That’s fair, but Y/n this is insane.”

“I don’t know what to do.”

“Let’s go to a club.”

Your eyes widen, “A club?”

“Lots of attractive people who are closer to your age and eligible,” she reasons with you.

“I’m not even supposed to be out right now. My dad says I have to be home to get acclimated with Wanda’s kids. They leave in a week.”

She claps her hands together, “Alright then, next week we’re going clubbing.”

You get a text from Wanda saying your father is on the way home. You know it’s her way of saying you need to be back soon.

“What should I do in the mean time?”

Yelena searches for an answer before landing on, “Act like she’s your mom.”

You gag at the thought, “Ew.”

Yelena reacts gleefully, “Exactly.”

You pause before exiting, “Technically… she is a milf though.”

“Y/n L/n get a fucking grip,” Yelena says with amusement.

“I’m trying, but she won’t let me,” you whine.

“You having a thing for older women makes so much sense. No wonder you had a crush on Natasha.”

You send her a playful glare, “We do not talk about the dark ages.”

“It’s alright, I forgive you. I don’t know if your dad will be as forgiving as I am.”

You shrug, “I’ll test it out and let you know.”

She leads you to her front door, “Think about the club. Focus on it, breathe it in. Dream about it. Do not think about fucking your step mom.”

“Too late for that,” you shrug again.

“Just get out already, I’m running low on things to say back.”

“Bye Lena,” you say as she basically pushes you out of her door.

You make it back just before your dad gets there. It’s interesting seeing him interact with Billy and Tommy. It’s clear to you that he favors Tommy a little more. It’s just in the way he speaks. It bothers you a bit and you make sure to include Billy any time that you can in conversation.

You can feel Wanda’s eyes on you throughout the dinner, but you keep your attention with the boys and your dad.

“So I have a bit of an announcement to make,” your father says, gathering everyone’s attention. “I have an opportunity to get a promotion at work.”

“That’s great honey, we’re so proud of you,” Wanda gives him a quick kiss.

You try your best to hold back any malice with a fake smile on your face.

“Well, the thing is I’d need to go out of town for a bit to secure the position,” he says and you feel Wanda’s mood shift.

“For how long dad?” you ask, taking a sip of your drink.

He winces, “At least a month, maybe more.” He begins to pile on in an effort to make it seem less drastic. “It’s really a once in a lifetime opportunity, I've been working there for so long it feels overdue, but with this money our lives could change dramatically. We could move, Y/n you could go back to dorming, it would be-”

“You already accepted it didn't you?”

Wanda’s tone is guarded as she speaks. It's clear that she's unhappy and you don't blame her.

You sigh pushing yourself away from the table, “Congratulations dad, I’m going to head up to my room now.”

“Wait.” Wanda’s voice stops you in your tracks. “How do you feel about this Y/n?”

“I uh-”

“Don’t drag my kid into this.”

Wanda starts gesturing with her hands, “I’m not, she’s bound to have an opinion. She lives here, she’s your daughter, and she came back home because of you. Now you’re bailing.”

“It’s not a big deal. I’m used to him being busy,” you try to mediate.

Your dad throws his hands up, “What is that supposed to mean?”

You give him your honest opinion, “It means you’re busy. You were late to my graduation because of work. You missed my award ceremonies. There wasn’t any point in me signing up for extracurriculars because you’d never take me or show up anyway. It’s nothing personal dad, it’s just the truth.”

“I was providing for you,” he throws it back in your face.

Your shoulders drop, “I know and I’m grateful, but-” you stop yourself. Instead you just head for your room. You hear him call after you, but you don’t respond.

It’s not soon after that you hear footsteps coming up the stairs. There’s a soft knock on your door. You don’t say anything as Billy and Tommy slip into your room.

“They’re still going at it,” Tommy announces.

“Do they… do this a lot?” You ask the boys.

Billy answers, “When any sort of quality time is involved.”

You scoff, “Classic.”

Tommy places a hand on your shoulder, “We get it you know.”

“Sometimes you just wish they were there for you,” Billy finishes the sentence.

You feel yourself breaking down but refuse to let the tears fall. Tommy pulls you into a hug and Billy joins in soon after. You center yourself in their embrace. It’s not a comfort that you’re used to experiencing, you appreciate it immensely.

At some point during this moment the voices downstairs escalate to yelling. It quickly grabs your attention and has you realizing that you are the only other adult present in this moment. It feels like your responsibility to try to shield them from this, even if they are on the older side of things. Teenagers are still kids. Hell you still feel like a kid in your early twenties.

You place a hand on Billy’s head and the other on Tommy’s, “Thanks kids. I’m going to go handle downstairs, you stay up here.”

Tommy interjects, “I think-”

You stop him, “I’ve got it, trust me. They’re going to get noise complaint if things keep going.”

You steel yourself as you go downstairs to find Wanda and your father in the middle of a heated argument. They’re both standing, yelling in each other’s faces.

“SO WHAT SHAWN YOU LEAVE FOR OVER A MONTH AND DON’T EVEN THINK TO RUN IT BY ME FIRST?”

“RUN IT BY YOU FOR WHAT WANDA? YOU AREN’T MY MOTHER.”

“I AM YOUR WIFE, OR HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN THAT? TOO BUSY WORKING TO EVEN ACKNOWLEDGE ME.”

“WHEN DID YOU BECOME SUCH A NEEDY BI-“

“ENOUGH,” you cut your father off in the middle of his sentence. The couple looks at you, and you can feel the anger simmering in their gazes. “It’s late, you’re going to get the police called with all of your arguing.”

“Well if-”

“Stop. The conversation is going nowhere because you aren’t having a conversation, you’re just screaming at each other,” you tell them.

“Y/n, you should stay out of this,” your father glare at you.

“I would love to, only we can all hear you upstairs. You either need to table this conversation for another time or go somewhere else to talk. Neither of you should be acting like this in front of your kids. I don’t care who started it, if you both plan on staying here tonight it’s over right now.”

Wanda is the one to take in a deep breath. She looks between you and your father. There’s something behind her eyes but you’re focused on the task at hand.

“You’re sleeping on the couch tonight,” she walks away from the table, past you, and disappears up the stairs.

You muster up all the disappointment you possibly can as you take in your father’s appearance, “She has a right to be upset with you. It seems like you keep hiding these really important, life altering things from her. You have to be more upfront, more honest with her.”

“How was I supposed to know she’d react this way?”

You level with him, “You had to have expected something like this, it’s why you didn't tell her in the first place.”

“Maybe I did, I just… I really want this,” he says slumping down on the couch.

“Wanda doesn’t seem like the unsupportive type. It’s all in your delivery. You need to apologize, before you leave. When are you leaving?”

“In 3 days.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, “Christ dad.”

“I know, I know. I’ll take her out tomorrow and we'll talk it out there.”

You nod, turning to go back to your room.

“Kid wait.” You pause at his call. “What were you going to say back there, before you went to your room?”

It takes you a moment to respond, “Sometimes I just wanted someone to be there for me. My dad, my mom, just someone. You were always busy with work and I was always alone.”

You don’t give him a chance to say anything else as you go up the stairs. His eyes follow you until you disappear. He sighs, leaning back into the couch, feeling like he could scream. He was failing, and he had 3 days to fix it.

When go back upstairs the boys are passed out on your bed. You think about waking them up, but decide against it. You settle on going into their room. It’s not until you shut the door behind you, that you notice the red head sitting on one of the beds in the room.

You take a seat on the bed that she’s not sitting on. The silence is heavy as you stare at each other. You can see the emotions running through her eyes. The anger, the frustration, and the lust. Your heart beat is steady as you look back at her.

“Do you think I’m in the wrong?” her voice is small when she asks.

“No, I just don’t think you know what kind of guy you married. He’s never going to be around enough and he’s never going to pick you over work. I’m not trying to be an asshole, it’s just the truth,” you speak bluntly.

“If you-" Wanda stops her sentence in its tracks.

“Honestly if I were him, I’d turn it down. I wouldn’t want to leave you for a month, but he's not me.”

“No, he isn’t,” she breathes out.

There’s another silence. Then it happens, so suddenly that you nearly freeze. Wanda’s lips are on yours. Her hands are planted in your hair and yours rest on the dips of her hips. Your back lays flat against the mattress.

Your tongue slips into her mouth causing you both to moan. Her hips roll on your lap and you grunt at the sensation. Your lips leave her mouth only to kiss down the side of her neck. As much as you want to leave a hickey you don’t. It’s not until your tongue runs across the top of her breast that she partial breaks from the trance.

“Y/n,” it’s a whine from her lips. The sound is entirely to intoxicating.

You begin to guide her hips against your thigh. Her sundress not leaving much fabric between her cunt and your sweats.

“Y/n we shouldn’t,” her hips follow your movements though her words tell you different.

“Just let me make you cum, please. Please Wanda, get off on my thigh,” your words are low as you beg her.

“Fuck,” Wanda watches the way your eyes don’t move from where she grinds on your thigh.

She lifts the sundress slightly so you can have a better view.

“Oh god,” you groan at the sight of the dampness of her panties. It turns you on even more.

Wanda finds herself grinding down harder, chasing her orgasm. You hold her firmly, helping create more friction. You find yourself getting off on the image before you.

“Fuck, use me. I know he can’t do it, so let me be useful. Fucking use my thigh. You’re so hot, shit I wish I could have you like this every night. I’m so desperate for you. I’m going to cum just from having you on me, fuck mommy.”

Wanda’s body completely falls into your arms. She shakes as she cums, leaving a mess on your sweatpants. She’s trying and failing to catch her breath as you hold her upright. Her head lolls into your shoulder.

“Did you really cum?” she says lips brushing against your ear.

You nod dumbly.

She moans again, “That’s so fucking hot.” She places a kiss right below your ear. “And what did you call me?”

Your chest heaves as you breathe out a response, “Mommy.”

She purrs in your ear before pulling away some. She grabs a fistful of your shirt pulling you into a searing kiss.

“We’re doing this again. Do you understand sweetheart?”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes mommy.”

She kisses your head one last time before getting off of your lap. You don’t miss the way her legs shutter as she gets up. You whine at the loss of contact.

“Don’t worry detka, we’ve got a little time to ourselves coming up. Mommy will let you go as far as you can handle, and maybe a little more than that.”

Next part

#lowkeyerror #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagines #billy and tommy #yelena belova

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highdramas · 20 days ago

Note

okay hear me out… a jack abbott inspired by imgonnagetyouback… the angst? the lust? i fear you would eat this up

never not mine | dr. jack abbot

pairing: jack abbot x f!resident!reader warnings: language, angst with a happy ending, age gap (unspecified, but reader is late 20s/early 30s and jack is mid/late 40s), reader slaps a man hehe (not jack), power imbalance (reader is a resident and jack is her attending), drug use (weed), sexual content (brief but there), jack absolutely grovels and it's a vibe word count: 3.2k summary: jack attempts to walk away. you attempt to reel him back in. it leaves you both raw and vulnerable. notes: if you are under 18 do not interact with my work or this fic. imgonnagetyouback, back to me by the marias, and honeymoon by lana all helped inspire this fic! i'm a little worried i wrote jack ooc, but then i remembered that man is a canonized yapper. this exists within the ring of fire universe, but that does not have to be read first. it is linked here if you would like to, though! i took some liberties with this so i apologize if it's not exactly how you imagined it! but i had a great time writing this! i hope you enjoy it <3 not proofread, apologies for errors!

you know exactly what it is that you’re doing. and if jack feels tortured– fine. let him. this is all his fault, anyway.

the whole time you’d been with him, whatever that even meant, you’ve felt this sense of… waiting for the other shoe to drop. you tried to tell yourself that you were crazy, that jack was good and honest and that he wasn’t going to get cold feet. that the fact that you were his resident and he was your attending didn’t bother him. that he wasn’t irrevocably haunted by demons from his past, a dead wife and an endless war that runs on a replay in his head, pain in a limb that he doesn’t even have anymore.

it’s not that you expect him to forget all of that. you just want him to be real with you.

and when he falls right into the trope, the trap that was laid by fate, you decide that you’re not going to be resentful. you’re just going to prove to him– and maybe yourself– that you’re not so easily forgotten. that you can’t be left.

it sounds both arrogant and pathetic when you think about it like that. but you don’t care. you’re going to get him back.

maybe it is cruel that you started flirting with donnie in front of him. maybe it’s evil, the way that when you all gather for your post-shift beer, it’s donnie’s bench that you settle at. when you meet abbot’s gaze from across the walkway, his eyes are always at a level of stony that make you a little bit nervous. but then you remember that he iced you out and you lift your chin up and turn your face back to donnie.

he’ll pick his poison, you decide.

when you enter lefty’s at 11pm after getting wind that the day shift– which was jack, conveniently, since he uttered the words this is a bad idea, kid. god, you want to shake his shoulders, you want to call him a coward and scream from the top of your lungs: do you need see how good it could be if you let it?

a delicate lilac top clings to your skin. you push your hair over your shoulder as santos crosses the bar to greet you with a big hug, laughter on her lips. “jesus christ, who are you trying to give a heart attack?”

your hand splays on her back and you find abbot looking at you from across the bar. you shrug your shoulders and pull back, pushing back pieces of santos’s hair. “i don’t know. maybe someone new?”

trinity’s eyebrows shoot up. “wow. spicy. i like it.”

you don’t know how much time passes. you feel a bit silly: overdressed, a beer in your hand, nothing on your mind except the man that you want to lure back in to you. your outfit is a siren song and all you can wonder is if abbot is a sailor who is as desperate as you’ve pinned him as.

if he’s as desperate as you are.

every time you look at him, he’s either already looking, or feels your gaze on him. there will be a beat of eye contact before you look away and laugh at something garcia said or engage, rapt, in a conversation with samira about the first date that she went on last week. suddenly, it’s been hours, and you’re closing out your tab when you feel a presence beside you.

it’s not the presence that you want. it’s one that’s unknown and makes you feel uncertain. it’s not abbot’s easy, calm, present demeanor beside you. the one that tells you don’t worry, i’m here, i got this. the one that washes over you like a delicious wave. the one that smells woody and warm and delicious. the man next to you is a little too clean cut, a little too polished– he smells like laundry and looks like he’s never been through a bad thing in his life.

he takes a drink of the last of his beer. “i’ve been watching you all night.”

you didn’t notice. faintly, you think that if you were twenty three, this man next to you would have been the apple of your eye, instantly. you wouldn’t be able to take your eyes off of him. but when you look at him and you see deep dimples and dark hair, all you see are dimples that are a little too deep, and hair that isn’t streaked with silver.

that pick up line strikes you as unimpressive. your finger tip circles your glass. “oh, am i supposed to say thank you?” you ask, but you manage what you try to play off as a coy smirk. absentmindedly, you look around, instinctively looking for jack. and not even because you want to see if he’s jealous. not because you want to see the look on his face, to feel that sick sense of satisfaction at the fact that you’re getting to him.

no. you want your friend. you want to give a bleak eye roll and make him smirk. you want to go back to him and say what a prick and carry on with your life. you want to go back to the normal that you’ve gotten used to– the one that, maybe, you took for granted.

if you can’t have jack as your whatever he was, you’d take him as your friend. any day.

but when your eyes scan the bar… he’s not there. the spot that he occupied next to robby is vacant. and all you’re left with is this sick sense of shame, embarrassment, and something else that you can’t quite articulate. longing, if someone put a gun to your head and forced you to put a name to it.

the man next to you says something. you don’t hear it. static rattles in your ears and suddenly all you want to do is go home, tear those lilac clothes off, wash your face, and cry. in bed.

and maybe smoke a joint on your patio, too.

he says something again. you, once again, don’t respond. you look at the bartender and answer their questions with one word answers. yes, you want to close. no, you don’t want a copy of your receipt.

“are you ignoring me, or are you just a stupid fucking bitch who can’t hear?”

at the level of shut down you’re at already, you don’t even care what he’s said. but he’s gotten the attention of the others. robby is already on his feet.

and abbot is walking down the hall from the restroom.

“i’m ignoring you,” you turn to him, spitting the words out, loud and clear. “but if calling me a stupid fucking bitch makes the rejection hurt less, knock yourself out.”

he screws his entire face up, and abbot is approaching quicker now, with that lethal anger on his face. robby isn’t far behind… or santos, either, for that matter.

“you are a stupid fucking bitch,” he says, taking a step closer to you, shrinking himself in size to be on your level. “and you’re not pretty enough to get away with an attitude like–”

abbot makes a move to lunge, and robby has to physically pull him back. the man lets out an ugly laugh and all you see is red, bright red. “oh, what’s your fuckin’ grandpa going to do?”

the crack that rings out when your palm hits his cheek could be heard around the world. it opens up a cacophony of mayhem– between you and him, the bartenders, abbot, robby, santos getting ready to throw in a punch of her own… but it all culminates with the lot of you being told to get the fuck out, this isn’t philly.

with your jaw set and your head held high, you are the first one to storm out of the bar. and maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the fact that a stranger just called you a bitch, but all you feel is an unsettled sort of anger.

you hear abbot say your name behind you.

you stop. the pittsburgh early spring still has a bite to it, especially when it’s nearing midnight. the wind makes your eyes sting, tears trailing down your cheeks. it’s the wind. it’s just the wind. “no,” you say lowly, pointing a finger in his direction. “fuck you.”

“fuck me?”

“yeah. fuck you.” you tug your jacket closer to yourself and wipe the tears away with the back of your hand. “you ignore me, you tell me this isn’t going to work, and then want to play protective… yeah. fuck you.” you go quiet, go to turn, but you can’t. you’re frozen in place. “no, it’s not even that. not really. i shouldn’t be mad at you. i should be mad at myself. i’ve been doing things, this whole time, trying to earn your affection back. trying to get you to see what you were missing, see why it was so silly to pretend that we’re not good. but… i’ve felt like shit every day, doing that. i’ve felt small.”

jack doesn’t say anything. robby has ushered all of your coworkers down the street and far away, bless him. when you assess jack’s face, there’s a myriad of things you see. you think you see regret. you know you see hurt. you want to believe you see love.

“and i don’t want to feel small,” you sniffle and wipe a fat, real tear away. “i don’t want to wear a cute outfit because you might see it. i don’t want to flirt with donnie to watch your knuckles go white. i want– i want to sit on your fucking couch. i want to watch some stupid show with you. i want to lay in bed and listen to the police scanner after sex. i want you to want me. and if you don’t, if this is all too much for you, then…” you look him up and down. the body you know intimately, the person you’d be with forever if he let you.

“then no hard feelings.”

you don’t give jack the opportunity to respond. maybe that’s its own special brand of self preservation. you turn, and you walk away from him, towards an empty apartment.

–

when you get home, you do exactly as you cited. you rid yourself of your clothes. you furiously wash your face and then go through the rest of your skin care. you roll yourself a joint, and you bring it out to your patio, and the small table, chair, and ashtray that sit out there.

your apartment isn’t as high up as jack’s. you live in an old building on the third floor, one of the world war two types, with the radiators and beautiful hardwood floors and all of the character in the world. in exchange, you get no dishwasher and a patio that probably isn’t up to city code.

lighting the joint with one hand, you take in a long, nice, inhale. you lean your head back against the wall. you grab your phone and put the marias on and let those big tears roll down your cheeks freely.

the low rumble of a truck pulling up gets your attention. you lift your head up and watch as the vehicle that you’d sat in countless times goes into park. you hear the door open. you watch jack round it, and his eyes are instantly drawn to your patio. he holds his hand up in a wave.

you flip him off.

the chuckle that gets out of him should infuriate you. but it doesn’t.

“yeah, i deserve that.”

“you’re a dick,” you reply, marijuana leaving you honest. you stand up and lean on the railing, looking down at him.

“i am.”

his hands are in his pockets and you can see a war going on in his mind, but then he starts talking. “i’m not good at this part. the… communication, part. i’m not good at this part at all.”

you raise your eyebrows. he continues. “when annie died, i was content to not be with anyone. ever again. a random fuck there and again, just to get it out of my system, sure. but i was content with not opening myself up to that. i always just thought… i thought i was already so fucked up, and since annie knew me before i was so fucked up. i told myself that she was the only one that was going to get it. get me.” he stares up at you. “now, i know that i was wrong in that. obviously.”

you give a slow nod of your head. “but i lived in that reality for so long. that i wasn’t going to be open to that again. and then we started hanging out, and at first, i was able to convince myself it was innocent. i’m your mentor. no lines would get blurred. and then, obviously, they did. but i told myself it was all casual. and when i told myself that, i felt like… yeah, i could do that. i could be good to someone in that capacity. but then,i felt greedy with you. i felt like i wasn’t going to be able to let myself walk away if i stayed any longer. so i forced myself. thought i was doing you a favor.” he rubs the back of his neck. “thought i was doing right by myself. like, the safest option. and then i talked to my therapist.”

you smirk. “the age old solution.”

“yeah, right?” he smirks back at you. “and i told him all of this, yesterday. and you know what he said?” he waits a beat. “he told me i’m a fucking idiot. and i responded, and said that i know i was. because deep down… deep down, i knew it was all bullshit. a defense mechanism.”

he walks closer and puts his hands on the railing of the first floor patio, staring right up at you, you staring down at him. “i should never have made you feel small. and all i want is to show you that i mean it.”

nodding your head slowly, you mull over his every word. you open and close your mouth a couple of times. “i want to tell you to fuck off,” you say honestly. “i want to think you’re just bullshitting me. but…” you meet his eyes. “that’s probably my defense mechanism.”

the quiet overtakes the two of you. all there is is the lull of traffic and the faint whistle of the wind. “it wasn’t about you,” you say. “i knew why you were pushing me away. i understood. i just wanted you to see why those things weren’t real. and i thought that i could control that. and then i just left myself feeling disappointed, and desperate, and messy.”

the two of you watch each other like feral cats, unblinking and unwavering. maybe that’s what you are.

“i’m sorry,” he says, voice softened. “i was a dick. and you were right.”

you nod your head. “come inside before you catch a cold.”

most of the time, you went over to his place. when he steps over the threshold into your apartment, you think that it feels good to have him in your space. to watch him set his shoes by the door, hang his coat up on the little rack. there’s this awkward sort of tension that simmers between the two of you. he must sense it, because he gives you a sideways look. “that wasn’t all i had to say.”

“yeah?” you ask with a playful smile, filling up a glass of water and taking a big gulp from it.

his hands pin you in at your kitchen counter. all of the air is sucked right out of the room. “you told me that you wanted me to want you. right?” you give a nod of your head. “i wanted to be face to face with you when i said this part.” he ghosts his fingertips over your cheeks. “i want every fucking part of you. your wild, messy parts included. especially, even.” his eyes darken a shade. “do you know how crazy you’ve made me? flirting with donnie, that purple you wore tonight?”

you roll your eyes, mostly at yourself. “that was sort of the plan.”

“it worked.” his thumbs brush your hipbones. “every day, i went home to an apartment that had you all over it. a coffee mug on the counter with a lipgloss mark. the blanket that you love and curl into almost every single night. your book on my coffee table. i felt stupid. i felt small, too. i felt like a coward. i was a coward. and i just–”

you raise up your hand, pressing it against his chest. not pressing him away, just… there. his brows furrow. you say, “you ramble when you’re nervous and when you want someone to feel better.” your hand slides up his chest. “i forgive you.”

the relief that washes over him is a visible, tangible thing. you feel it in the way he grips your hips as a result, the way his face falls into the crook of your neck. you close your eyes and run your hand through the silver streak you love so much. he pulls back and there’s a little tear shining in his eye. and he says three words that are simple but profound, that strike you where you stand. “i love you.” he nods. that steady, stable, self-assured version of himself is there again. “i know that now. i knew it then, too.”

you nod your head slowly. “i know you do,” you say, because you do, you really do. “and i love you too.”

those dimples shine at you. not too deep. just right. he pulls your body in flush with his and it’s like you melt away into nothing but a glowing ball of light. fuzzy and warm.

a switch is flipped. your hands go hungry and your lips find his. jack leads you to your bedroom. he lays you down and he spreads you out. he takes off each article of clothing, slowly. he lowers himself until his head is between your thighs and apologizes with his tongue, until you arch off your bed. he climbs up and he sinks inside of you in one satisfying motion. you’re all nails down his back and relentless eye contact, and you’re the kind of desperate and messy that you want to be. he’s just the same– his pace is consistent, deep, and each thrust tells you just how sorry he really is.

you finish with an explosion behind your eyes, and he tumbles over off that cliff after you. he rolls off of you and you lay on your backs, staring up at the ceiling. your hand goes to rest on his chest. he takes it and presses a kiss to it before he raises, comes back with a damp cloth and cleans you up with care. love. he leans down and presses a kiss to your lips, tender and right.

he starts messing with the covers, brows all screwed up. “what could you possibly be looking for right now?” you ask, chest still heaving.

“this,” he says, locating his phone. he stares down at it until he puts it between you. a faint static emits from it.

“what the hell is–”

“3B60, the subject is fleeing on foot.”

you between him and his phone, police scanner coming from the speaker, incredulously. he just grunts as he settles back into bed, pulling you into him. “i’m just listening to what you want, kid.”

#jack abbot x reader #jack abbott x reader #jack abbot imagine #jack abbott imagine #jack abbot #jack abbott #the pitt fanfic #the pitt fanfiction #the pitt x reader #the pitt #dr abbot x reader #my writing #jack abbot smut #jack abbott smut

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saintrosalyn · 5 months ago

Text

BIRD DOG - JAILBIRD PART TWO

Part One

Description: Simon’s determined to retrieve his jailbird.

Word count: 4.5k

TW: Parolee! Reader (guys we’ve graduated to parole), stalking, reader is kept as vague as possible, sexual favors in exchange for money, groping, Ghost is a creep (graduated from perv lmao), p in v, oral (m! receiving), p in v, mention of breeding kink, creampie, possessiveness, dub-con, somewhat edited.

Notes: It’s finally done! This took longer than I anticipated since I deviated from the OG plan and was a bit of a stinker to write but it's done. I hope everyone enjoys it! I’ve absolutely loved reading all the comments, asks, and reblogs. Such positive feedback is what led me to posting part two honestly. I'm currently working on the last part of JB so expect that soon💖. Feedback is always appreciated but never expected. Let me know if I missed any tags. Enjoy :)

Also I've never done a tag list before so apologies if it didn't work or I missed anyone😭. Please let me know if the link to part one doesn't work either, this is the first time I'm using Tumblr on my laptop I usually use my phone.

You got used to the slight tremor in your hands, the parting kiss alcoholism left with you, but the violent shaking as you attempted to click the lock of the hotel door closed was difficult for even you to handle. You longed to feel that familiar burn of self-destruction but the only place that would have you end up is back in prison. Parole violation. It was too soon to resort to such dramatic measures, instead you quietly paced your small room, double checking that you clicked the deadbolt shut, closing the curtains as tight as they could go, anything to try and soothe your rising anxiety.

Talking yourself away from the edge again and again until you could finally sit down on the stiff mattress. Every time you managed to calm your heart you blinked and saw that room again. You saw those pictures again.

He-Simon.

You swallowed, forcing yourself to take deep, slow, breaths.

After sleeping together, after discovering the skeleton in his closet, you swallowed the bile in your throat and kissed his jaw. He made dinner which you smiled over and forced into your mouth, every bite downed with a sip of water. The two of you went to bed, your eyes darting to that door, now left open enough you could see a glimpse of his homemade wallpaper. He kept an arm draped over you and fell asleep.

Then you left.

Barefoot, not knowing where your shoes had been placed in your need to-

Jesus Christ you had slept with the man.

You barely made it to the bathroom, puking mostly water and yellowed acid up. It made your eyes water and nose run, blowing it in a piece of toilet paper, flushing it down. There was little comfort to be found in the distance you put between you and him.

Going on foot wasn’t the brightest idea, but risking stealing Simon’s car and having him call the cops on you was foolish even for you. That and you didn’t want the man any angrier at you than you expected he was going to be. You only got so far before you found yourself on the wrong side of town. You had never been in the area before, but you knew the type. Women posted on every corner, bars on the windows, broken glass and sticky residue staining the sidewalks. It didn’t take you long to find the kind of man you needed. Trading a handjob for a bus fare, a blowjob for a new pair of shoes, and a pitiful two minutes of dry thrusting for a hotel room.

Back to your ways. Different city, different time, same person. A bird incapable of changing its tune.

You needed a real job. A record stood in your way of that, but surely there had to be something, anything, that would pay enough for you to keep a roof over your head without having to sell more of yourself.

You needed a job, but you needed space more. As much as you could get. Immigration was out, no one wanted to host a felon, and you were limited to a certain area before your parole officer got testy with you. Fuck. A big cage, that’s what you were trapped in. One you could never get free from.

Your family. Your past. Your cell. Your city. Your whole fucking life, one cage after another. Freedom a concept rather than a reality. Simon could use it against you. He knew of your limits, hell, you fucking told him yourself over a phone call before you got released. Outlined every fucking sentence of where you could and couldn’t go. He knew all of it.

Taking another deep breath you forced your body to lie on the bed, you needed to calm down. You needed to think clearly and come up with a plan. Simon was still asleep in bed, he didn’t know where you were, you were fine.

You were fine.

A good night’s sleep. That’s what you needed. Not likely with how wound tight you were. But you had to try. Anything to escape the panic squeezing your lungs.

___

It took four hours of staring blankly at a dark ceiling, on the edge of a panic attack the entire time, before your body gave in and let you sleep. It was light, but it was enough of a break in your consciousness. The sun was what woke you, shining on your eyes and causing you to squint. Your anxiety a gentle heart palpitation rather than the full blown panic it was last night, exhaustion dulling its edge.

The first thing you did was go business to business looking for a place that was hiring. Most required a resume, those you didn’t even give a second glance (as they no doubt did background checks). It took all of the day before you found a shitty pub that only asked if you were old enough to drink. With a nod of your head an apron was shoved into your hands, and you were bussing for your first shift.

The owner, a balding man who smelled like cigarettes and wore a sweat-stained wife beater, paid you cash. Enough that you were able to buy another night to cover your hotel room and not much else. You walked back to your temporary home, eyes darting to every tall man who crossed the street. For once, you were grateful Simon was such a large man. It would make him easier to spot in a crowd, the orange of a tiger’s fur stark against a green jungle.

When you returned back to your room, it was easy to explain the movement of your things. Hotels had housekeepers. You wouldn’t have even noticed it if it weren’t for your paranoid state. It wasn’t until you went to the bathroom, eager to wash away the grease and grime of the pub, that you noticed a small picture sitting face-down on the bathroom counter. Flipping it over revealed you. You, asleep in your shitty hotel bed, close-up, taken from inside.

You were barely able to flip the toilet lid up before you lost your stomach contents. Vile burning the back of your throat was nothing in comparison to the panic that burned through your veins.

He was inside your hotel room. He was inside your hotel room last night with you.

You barely managed to stand, legs shaking, leaving the bathroom you noticed other signs of his arrival. Dirty tracks that were much too large. The blinds wide-open even though you were sure you closed them before you went to sleep. A single dog tag resting underneath your pillow. It’s owner’s name mocking you.

Riley.

___

He left you more presents. Vestiges of him ever present in your life. It didn’t matter where you went, how many hotels you hopped, how many jobs you changed, he always found you. Truthfully, the both of you knew this song and dance could only go on for so long. You were low on cash and stuck orbiting around the same small area. Days bled into weeks bled into months. Fear gave way to anger. Anger that he wouldn’t leave you alone. Anger that he wouldn’t let you delude yourself into thinking you had found a safe space that he could not intrude on.

On your nth hotel, you decided you were staying. Simon be damned. He obviously had no intentions of killing you just yet, content in tormentation. That and there were only so many jobs willing to pay under-the-table. You needed to save up enough cash to prove that you had a steady place to live, a recommendation from your parole officer. This flightiness made the law suspicious at best and nervous at worst.

You found your way back to the pub, who upgraded you to server. On the wrong side of town its patrons weren’t the best. But they tipped decent enough and if they got too handsy the owner always stepped in. A few pinches on the ass were worth a steady income. You’ve given a lot more of yourself for less.

Perhaps, that was your mistake, you got too comfortable with a wild animal. So sure that your exotic pet would not bite.

The first time you saw him, you thought it was a mistake. Despite his size Simon was able to go about your life as he pleased without you catching even a glimpse of him. Hell, you knew he could stalk you without you being aware of him at all (your prison stint was proof enough of that), he just chose not to. You shouldn’t have been surprised that his behavior would escalate.

You were standing, dead on your feet after your shift working on three hours of sleep, waiting for the bus. And there he was. Across the street, large frame leaning against a wall, arms crossed. When you did a double glance, you were able to make out the tell-tale scars across his face. Then the bus came. It was a coin toss, boarding the bus. A part of you wanted to flee, figuring he could easily cross the street and board the same bus as you, but the alternative was worse. Let it pass and walk home alone. In the dark. With a predator at your heels.

No.

Better to have people around you. Safety in numbers and all that.

The next day, he did it again. And again. And again. Each time coming closer and closer. Until one day you saw his large frame coming up the steps of the bus. You practically vibrated from anxiety in your seat, unshed tears blurring your vision as you stared straight ahead. The black blur of his jacket, the soft squeak of his boots as he moved closer and closer, until he took the seat right behind you.

You didn’t move. Frozen. Fight or flight. Fight or flight. Fight or flight. Or,

Fright.

Until the bus moved and the decision was made for you. Only you couldn’t convince your muscles to move, stuck staring dead ahead. Willing the bus driving to glance in the mirror back at you. Willing the other passengers to notice how close the man behind you was sitting (close enough to feel his breath against your ear, close enough to smell the tobacco on his breath). But this was the last bus and everyone was too tired to notice. A herd of diurnal prey vs a nocturnal predator. It was clear who had the advantage.

You missed your stop. And the one after that. It wasn’t until you felt a violent shake on your shoulder that you jolted out of your trance, eyes darting up… to the bus driver.

“Las’ stop miss. Gotta’ get off.” His voice firm. How long had he been calling out to you?

Giving a jerky nod you looked behind you, but Simon was gone.

___

It didn't stop there. Not that you expected it would, but fucking forgive you for having a little hope in life. Simon took to following a few steps behind you wherever you went. Sitting behind you on the bus. Sitting in the back of the pub, nursing beer after beer. Sometimes he had another man with him. But mostly he was alone. His eyes never left you. For weeks it went on. For weeks you felt his constant presence.

The presents never stopped either. Photos of you, gifts for you (lingerie and cigarettes, the same shade of nail polish he gave you while you were in prison), things of his. He never relented. You never shook that feeling of being watched. You never could get rid of that pit of anxiety in your stomach. Exhaustion was starting to settle heavy in your bones. Give up. Give in. Give yourself to him.

The temptation was intense. You just wanted to be done with it all. Let him do what he wanted with you. At this point, even death would be better than another day of constant anxiety. (Pursuit predator exhausting his prey, closing in).

And then he was gone.

His absence was glaringly obvious on the first day, enough so that you thought for sure that you were going to die soon. Simon had reached some kind of breaking point. But you didn’t. And you didn’t see Simon.

There were no presents left for you. No signs of his stalking. No evidence that he was ever in your life at all. It was such a sudden and stark change that if it weren’t for his dog tag you would have thought you dreamed the whole thing. But he was gone.

A day passed.

Then another.

And another.

The knot in your stomach slowly unworked itself. The tension ever present in your shoulders finally loosened. Weeks passed by. Then months. A part of you still worried. In prison there were times where Simon would go silent for months, but he always came back. And he always made sure to make up for lost times. More gifts, more phone calls, longer visits. It seemed that your anxiety was slowly chipped away, yet it was also slowly building itself back up again.

But Simon stayed gone. More importantly, a date had been set for you to become a truly free woman. No parole. No restrictions. A chance to leave the country. A chance to truly be free.

A chance to slip away from Simon.

___

When a police officer knocked on your door, you had to fight back the panic.

You haven’t done anything wrong.

It wasn’t until you were sitting across from your lawyer did you truly began to realize the situation you were in. His words sounded so far away, so garbled. As if you were trapped underwater, in a fishbowl, letting the world happen around you as you tapped at the glass.

“...Do you understand the situation you’re in?...Enough drugs to get an intent to distribute…a passport…tickets to another country…”

How did you get here?

“Are you listening to me?”

You snapped back to reality, the familiar cold cuffs biting into your wrists.

“Do they have to keep these on me?”

Your lawyer let out a sigh. “Don’t worry about the damn cuffs right now.”

Easy for him to say, he wasn’t the one wearing the damn cuffs.

“They’re distracting.”

He ignored you. “They have you on video buying a plane ticket out of the country.”

You nodded. He didn’t mention the fact that your parole would’ve been up by then. Nothing wrong. You didn’t do anything wrong.

“They found enough cocaine in your hotel room to get intent to sell. With the plane ticket, and your erratic behavior after you got out of prison, things don’t look good for you.”

“It’s not mine I-” Your voice cracked and you cleared your throat, talking so quietly, trying to hold back tears. “I swear.”

Your lawyer didn’t look convinced. “That defense won’t hold up in court.”

He ran his hands through his hair. “Look, I was able to cut a deal for you. It’s better than prison. They’ll tag you-”

Dog tags flickered in your mind. “Huh?”

“House arrest.”

“Oh.”

“You won’t be able to use a hotel, you’ll have to go back to the original residence you reported when you got out of prison.”

"What?” Alarm bells rang through your sluggish thoughts.

Your lawyer sick of you interrupting him, bulldozed on. “Listen to me. I don’t know why they’re offering this to you, but you won’t get a second chance at this. Confess your crime. They’ll confine you to your house for three years and serve parole in tandem. You’ll only serve a year of parole once you’re out.”

Three years. Three years stuck at Simon’s house. Three years with Simon.

“What happens if I don’t take it.”

“You’ll go back to prison. Given you’ve already been, they'll try for maximum. You could be looking at twenty years, ten if you’re lucky. Life on parole.”

Walk into the tiger’s den or let him continue the chase.

How did you get here?

___

They put the ankle monitor on at Simon’s house, now your house you suppose. A part of you had wanted to tell them to take you back to prison instead. But you knew the reality of your situation. Simon would just do the same thing he did before. Get videos of you, pictures of you, he could still watch you in your cell. He would still visit you. And that’s just what he would do while you were in prison, what would happen when you were released again? You were never going to be able to escape him. At least this way you would be more comfortable.

A gilded cage.

Simon talked to the officers, but he seemed to make even them nervous, as they all but ran out of the house. You watched as they shut the door behind them, alone in a room with Simon for the first time in a long time.

How did you get here?

Simon put his hand on the back of your neck, before gliding it upwards jerking your head back. Your eyes met his, and he was smiling.

“Hello, bird.”

“Simon.”

He shuddered when you called his name.

“Missed you.”

“Don’t know how, you never left me.”

He grinned, boyish and proud of himself, “Never.”

Simon kissed you then, feeling far more familiar than he should’ve for a man you’ve only had sex with once. You turned, hoping to relieve some of the pressure in your neck, Simon’s hand stayed instead wrapping around your throat. He gave an experimental squeeze, making you whimper, before he released you.

“Gonna’ be good’ fer me?” He rasped.

You thought about it for a moment, and he let you, time frozen mid-air. But you had been running for so long. And you were so tired. Fight or flight. Fight or flight. Fight or flight. Or,

Surrender.

You had to stand on the tips of your toes to press your lips against his, white flag given. That’s all it took for the dam to break. Simon let out a growl and slammed you into the nearest wall, cradling your head so it didn’t bang against the wall with the force. His body caged you in as he deepened the kiss. You had forgotten just how intense it was to be so close to Simon.

He filled your senses. You breathed him in, you tasted him, you heard his soft grunts against your lips, felt the rough edge of his jeans as he ground himself against you, watched as his blonde eyelashes fluttered open until he was staring at you. Always watching. Even in these moments.

Simon’s hand gripped your ass, grinding you harder against him, moaning from the friction.

“You owe’ me somethin’ birdie. Made your fiance wait so long. Such a fuckin’ tease.” He growled in your ear before fisting your shirt in two hands, ripping it with ease. Hands squeezing your bare tits so tight you expected to find bruises tomorrow.

Confusion knitted your brows together before he shoved you to your knees and you came face to face with his crotch.

How did you get here?

Your hands shook as you undid the button on his jeans, the zipper loud in between Simon and your panting. He helped you pull his jeans down his thighs, his cock dropping out, hard and angry.

Fuck.

You had forgotten just how big the man was down below. Time distorting the memory enough you had convinced yourself that he was average and you were just desperate that night. You were wrong of course. The man was hung as a fucking horse.

It had been awhile since you gave a blowjob. The steady pay the pub provided, the tips you made, pawning a few of Simon’s gifts and you had earned enough to not necessitate them. Not that it would help in this situation. Simon was big enough that all your previous tricks were rather useless. You weren’t even sure if you could open your mouth wide enough to take him, let alone take him down your throat. Your poor poor throat.

Tentatively, you leaned forward and gave the head a gentle kiss, glancing up and meeting Simon’s eyes. Your gaze left his, feeling suddenly shy despite the situation you were in. Pre dribbled and you used the chance to rub it along his sensitive head with your thumb. You gathered as much spit on your tongue licking the underside of his cock, pushing it all the way up until it pressed against his stomach. He groaned, hand resting on the back of your head.

With his dick out of the way, you used your other hand to caress his balls before pressing soft kisses to them. You replaced your hand with your mouth, sucking and swirling your tongue, using your hands to work his cock while you gave your attention elsewhere. His balls were much easier to fit in your mouth, but you could only delay the inevitable so long.

You pulled away fully, his cock falling under the weight of itself. The easy part done, now it was time for the hard part. Your gag reflex was not going to be happy. Bracing your hands against his thick thighs, feeling his muscles flex underneath your fingertips, you pressed your lips against the tip of his cock again, parting the seam of your mouth and letting him slowly slip in. Your tongue lying flat as he invaded your mouth.

Inch by overwhelming inch.

Before you had thought he was overwhelming, it was nowhere near as overwhelming as having his dick in your mouth. Gone were the lingering scents of tobacco and liquor. The outside world stripped away until just the man was left. Until only Simon’s musk filled your nose, wrinkling it as you took him a little deeper. Your jaw already ached from how wide you were stretching it.

Tired of your pace, Simon began to use your head as leverage as he pushed you further down, nails pressing crescents into his skin as you forced your body to relax. You quickly moved your hands back to the base of his length, stopping him from pushing you any further. Twisting your wrists to placate him enough to let you keep them there. Sucking to increase the pressure.

Simon moaned, hands going from gripping your head, to resting. Letting you work.

You took a deep breath through your nose as you began to work him in earnest. Swirling your tongue over the head of his cocked you began to bob faster and faster, unable to stop the lewd gurgling noises as the back of him hit your throat. His hands were at your head again, pushing himself further down your throat and back again. Setting his pace.

This wasn’t a blowjob he was fucking your throat. Using you. His dick twitched in his mouth before he pulled out, as you took in huge gulps of breath. Body hunching in on itself. You felt vulnerable like this. Kneeling in front of him, the top half of you completely nude.

You didn’t get much time to collect yourself before you were pulled to your feet, turned so that your back was pressed against his front, hands bracing against the wall.

Simon kissed your neck, hooking his hands on your pants and jerking them down. They caught on your ankle monitor but he just tore them off, seams ripping. Your underwear was torn with a satisfying rip, before you felt the tip of his bare cock pressing against your hole. He thrusted against your slit, gathering your own slick before he reached a hand down, dragging his dick back before it caught on your hole.

You couldn’t help but whine at the stretch of him, un-prepped. He didn’t stop until his hips met yours, large hands bruising. He paused, leaning his weight onto you, sighing. As if being buried to the hilt in your cunt was the reprieve he had been looking for all his life.

“Missed her’ too. Did she mis’ me?” His voice was hoarse against your ear.

“Huh?”

He removed one hand from your hip bringing it to your clit, brushing one large knuckle against it, causing your knees to buckle. Simon chuckled, easily holding your weight against him.

“Don’ worry, won’ ever leave you for this long again Birdie.”

Simon licked your cheek causing you to try and jerk away from him, before the rough pad of his finger began to circle your clit, your pussy clenching around him almost painfully, grinding his hips into yours as if trying to fuck you deeper somehow. He pulled out before snapping into you. Again and again, hand never leaving your clit.

“Simon! Simon please! Don’t stop!” You couldn’t help but cry, bucking back against him as you felt an orgasm build quickly, faster than one had ever built before.

He growled into your ear. “Ain’t ever gonna run again Bird.”

You nodded your head, trying to do everything in your power to appease him to keep doing what he was doing. To keep thrusting. To keep his hand on your clit. To lick you again. Anything. Everything. You wanted him to consume you wholly.

“Ain’t gonna run no’ more. Ain’t gonna leave the house till everyon’ knows you’re mine.”

His hand left your clit, causing you to whine in protest, cradling your stomach.

“Say it. Tell the whole fuckin’ world who you belong too.”

“You Simon! YoU! Simon! Simon please…plea-” You were babbling, until finally his hand went back to your clit.

“Don’t forget it.”

You came, cunt desperately clutching his cock, squealing as Simon didn’t even slow his thrusts. He pushed you through one orgasm onto the edge of overstimulation as he finally came with a grunt inside of you. He didn’t pull out, keeping his seed nuzzled safely near your womb.

You slumped against his arms, panting softly as the reality of your situation began to wash over you, naked except for the ankle monitor.

How did you get here?

It didn’t matter, because all roads led to Simon.

Tag list: @Sweetlike-sugarplum, @thatpersonamedrook, @aphinthestars, @misscaller06, @shushyoudontknowme, @youknowits-derea, @succubusvalentine, @sundaescreamcheese

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost #ghost x you #simon ghost riley x reader #Simon is such a meanie #He's gonna give reader an ulcer fr

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