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explicit-tae · 1 year ago

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Carnal Desire (1/3)

The last person you expected to see was an ‘old friend’ from nearly a decade ago, but you’re determined to show the man that you’re no longer the little girl he use to know. @bloodline1632 @seokjinkismet @babycandy111

Word Count: 2.070

Warning: smut, stripper reader, mafia/gangster yoongi, haegeum type vibes fr fr, grinding, finger sucking, the reader is down bad, but so is yoongi, kissing, sucking,

“You’ll do amazing, really!” Bunny - your co-worker - says as she pats the highlighter upon your cheekbones. “You’re already on your way to becoming a favorite.”

You take a deep breath and nod.

“Please stay focused. We have very important people tonight.”

And there it was, your nerves kicking back in once more.

You only been here for a week - the high end strip club is more than you imagined. You often thought it would be littered with creeps and smelt of cheap booze and cigarettes - but maybe you just chose the right one.

Your name is being called now and from behind the curtains, you notice the lights dim, and the red spotlight appears. You clicked your heels, rounding the curtain and made your way towards the middle of the stage. It’s amazing how you were able to turn your nerves off when needed be - you were highly grateful that you didn’t need any liquid courage to do so.

Bunny was correct when she said it would be a busy night - and the important people she spoke of had to be front and center. You sway your hips to the pole, hooking a leg around it and swinging as you do - a routine you practiced for the past two days.

You often don’t look into the crowd while performing - you were a natural overthinker and the last thing you needed was to mess up in front of a group of men. However, this was different. You had important people here tonight and your boss informed each dancer tonight to “appear” available and interested.

You regret taking her advice.

You drop to your knees slow and sultry, crawling towards the edge of the stage. Smoking typically wasn't allowed, but important guests always got their way. Your eyes focus on the man smoking and you froze.

Those eyes - such cold and feline-like eyes. They flash in your mind and you were brought back to your childhood; specifically your teenage years. As the smoke clears, as does your vision on the man - pale, porcelain-like skin, hard eyes and a low smirk on his lips.

Yoongi.

Min Yoongi was before you. He was the important guest tonight - he looked it. Even in the sea of people, you can smell the expensive cologne mixed with the nicotine smell. He appeared clean shaven and had not aged since you last saw him a decade prior.

Yoongi brings the cigarette back into his lips, his fingers curling as he does so. Your eyes glance to his hands, large and veiny and full of shining diamonds.

Your eyes begin to grow dry and you blink. You finally inhale to not have your head go any more lightheaded than necessary.

You hear a hiss of your name and your body immediately reacts. You begin to crawl once more, your eyes on nobody but Yoongi now. He furrows a brow and appears amused and curious.

Min Yoongi was before you.

Your Min Yoongi.

The same Min Yoongi that your father despised - called him a thug and everything but a decent human being. Father’s never approved of their little girls being hooked on an older man - but he was only two years older; if that. The same Min Yoongi who you had once admitted to loving during too many drinks and even when you insisted on showing him you weren’t a little girl, he never took advantage of your advances.

Min Yoongi was before you now - and you weren’t a teenager anymore. You were a woman that grew into her curves and appearance, and you were determined to show him just that.

It’s crazy to think that just one look at him made you feel as you did as a teenager - shy, but willing, giddy and wanting to prove yourself to him.

Yoongi leans closer to the stage just as you lean forward. Your manicured hand grasps his large ones and grasps the cigarette. You were never a smoker - he knows this. But he only smirks as you take a puff of it and blow it at him.

Your time was up, but your eyes linger onto Yoongi’s longer as you exit the stage. You feel it all fall on you at once - the nerves and nausea. Yoongi was here. He had seen you like this - what was he thinking? Has he remembered you?

“What was that?” Bunny heels slam against the floor as she rushes to you. “Do you know who that is?”

Yes. “No.”

Bunny’s eyes widened. “You don’t know who Suga is?”

Suga. Yoongi must have made another name for himself. He was once someone your father considered bad news and you can only guess what he was into back then - but Yoongi is a man now. He surrounded himself with men, him directly in the middle. He was an important member of whatever society he ran with; you didn’t really care much to ask.

“I was told to entertain the guests.” you shrug your shoulders. “Suga seems to be a very important person.”

Bunny nods with wide eyes. “Extremely. He dabbles in organized crime and is one of our biggest spenders here. You-”

“Y/N.”

You freeze, as does Bunny.

“I’m dead.” you murmur to Bunny who slowly nods.

Your boss’ eyes are upon you when you turn. Her arms are crossed as she motions you to follow her.

“I-I didn’t mean-”

“You aren’t in trouble.” your boss murmurs as you saunter towards her. “Seems like your little stunt caught Suga’s eye. He never pays for a dance.”

Yoongi did remember you.

Your heart races as your boss points to the back rooms, the further room in the back. The only room without a camera.

You look yourself over in the mirror. Your hair appeared to be in place still, as did your makeup. Your lingerie hugs you nicely and your heels were just an added bonus.

It grows hotter and quieter as you make your way down the hall to the back room - a V.I.P section. You slide the door open and make your way in. Yoongi is seated upon the round, leather section. The room is surrounded with mirrors and low lights. On the table forward him is a large bottle of champagne - the most expensive there was at the club - and two glasses.

“Sit.” Yoongi says as you close the door behind you. He goes to pour both glasses of champagne, handing you one as you round the table.

“Thank you.” you murmur. It takes everything in you not to melt - but you are grown now and no longer the shy teenage girl.

You sit on his lap, legs swinging to trap him between your thighs. Your eyes meet his as you drink the champagne.

Yoongi’s pink tongue coats his lips as he leans back into the couch. He doesn’t go to move you from your laps, and even if you did, you wouldn’t leave without a fight. After all, he paid for your services - private dances weren’t cheap and especially not in the V.I.P backroom.

You discard your glass beside you without a care, licking your own lips.

“Y/N…Y/N…”

Your arms are fresh with goosebumps when you hear his voice say your name. He down the champagne, free hand rubbing against your thigh to your waist.

“How much you’ve grown since the last time I saw you.” Yoongi finally says as he finishes the champagne, discarding his own glass to the side.

“I can say the same for you…” you begin to roll your hips. “...Suga.” All the girls are informed to not be so close to a client. They paid for a certain amount of time - and in that time you were told to stall, only sitting upon them at the last few minutes of the dance.

Yoongi’s hands are as large as you know them to be, both now cupping your waist.

“How is it that when my name comes from your lips it sounds sweeter than ever before?”

Yoongi’s eyes rack over your figure.

You were no longer the little girl who followed him around against her father’s wishes. No, you were now a woman - a full grown woman who grew into her chest and hips. He recalls the amount of times he (against your own knowledge) would have to assure no creep used your naivety to their advantage.

Yoongi’s girl is what they called you - even back then. No matter how much he told anyone that you were nothing but a close friend to him; someone he would protect because he had a heart.

“Where have you been?” Yoongi allows his curiosity to get the best of him. He was no fool in knowing the pure hatred your father had for him - even if Yoongi never took advantage of your feelings for him. When you were old enough to consider making your own decision, you were shipped far away from Daegu - and that was ten years ago.

You continued your lap dance, your hands placing themselves on his shoulders. Yoongi is but a man and his eyes rack your figure in the tight lingerie, large hands rubbing up your side with a lick of his lips once more.

“My dad sent me to live with my aunt and continue school there.” you respond. “I came back when he got sick.”

Yoongi furrows a brow. Your father was sick. He hasn’t seen the man since he last saw you.

“Dropped out of school to take care of him. Now I’m here.” you roll your hips against the bulge forming in his pants. “With you.”

Yoongi feels your hands rub from his shoulders to his torso.

“What about you, Suga? You seem to have made a name for yourself.”

Yoongi was being far too modest for your liking. You grasp his hands in yours, eyes staring right into his. You allow his hands to roam your body, setting them right onto your breasts.

“I have.” Yoongi murmurs, voice deeper. “I own this city now, baby.”

You swallow at the pet name, leaning closer. You want to capture his lips with your own - they were so rosy and soft.

“I bet you do.” you murmur, warm breath against his lips. “Does someone run it with you?”

Yoongi tilts his head. He gives you a snicker. “You still got that crush, huh?” he teases. He squeezes your breast lightly before his right hand cups your check.

You grow hot at his words, swallowing thickly. You wouldn’t allow him to treat you like the same little girl you once were. You were an adult - you were in control of your own desires.

“It’s more than a crush now. I’m not a little girl.”

Yoongi knows this - he wants to tell you just how much you’ve grown since the last time he saw you.

“I can show you how much it’s grown.”

Yoongi can’t take his eyes from you. Your tongue peeks out and wraps around his thumb. You suck on it, eyes boring into his own. His cock twitches at the sultry act.

“Y/N…”

You moved fast. From sucking onto his thumb to your lips upon his. Your thighs clenched him beneath you tightly, never wanting to let go.

Yoongi loses himself in your touch, arms wrapping around your bare body, touching skin he never knew he would ever long to touch.

Your tongue dances with him, his hands cupping your ass, guiding you to continue to grind against his bulge.

“I want you, Yoongi.” you murmur against his lips.

“I know, baby.” Yoongi grunts. “I know…”

Your teeth clasps down onto his bottom lips, fingernails digging into his shoulders. “Then take me.”

Yoongi shudders, holding onto you even tighter.

“You can have me. All of me.”

Yoongi shakes his head, breathing quickening. Your words ring in his ears non-stop.

“I want to be your girl.” you continue - you refused to hear anything other than approval. “You can have all of me right now and forever.”

Yoongi lips are against the skin of your neck, placing open-mouthed kisses. Your words are getting to him, his cock begging to take you.

But you weren’t a common whore - not just some pussy to wet his cock. You were someone he cared for deeply.

“You are my girl.”

Your lips meet his once more and your heart feels satisfied - it’s the same words you wanted to hear for years now.

Part 2 | Part 3

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dilf-docs · 29 days ago

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Misery Reigns My Lonely Neon Nights

old man!logan x younger fem!reader

summary: logan should've said no. should've just drove the pretty waitress home. that's his job. hers is to serve his cup of coffee to the brim. so why is he riding you to his house?

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (cause we have a small daddy kink going on here.. hence the blog name BUT I DO HAVE A GOOD DAD), smut, this reeks of corruption kink for no reason other than me being a virgin whore, like he gets stalker-ish for a second but its logan howlett so we forgive him<3 ya está viejito, brief mention of suicide, sub logan edging on praising kink (if u squint), no protection but u gotta put the hat on the cowboy to ride the horse alr, riding, breeding kink??? angst (the depressing vibes are there cause they follow my writing like a shadow ijbol)

word count: 33,577 words (at the v crack of dawn.. i think i've gone insane FR it's 02:07 am and my brain its eating itself like im gonna start seeing logan in the corner of my room)

side note: newbie here after reading so many fanfics on tumblr but never publishing my own!! its hugh's birthday (well, its past midnight so no more but still!!! it was a couple hours ago) so i figured i should give it a try today cause that man does things to me ESPECIALLY as old man logan i can't lie and say the thought of him fucking me good and slow hasn't crossed my mind too many times 😩 we love sad hot old people in here so naturally my inaguration fic had to be done by him. also, i'm tired of scrapping for votes, comments, and interactions on wattpad so please treat me well during our first:// it's me moving to tumblr it's me hi i'm the problem it's me. i'm a feedback whore so pls leave tons of those!! also, english isn't my first language so if i make a grammar mistake pls do not tell me bc i have no respect for this language ―it just makes me cringe less to write smut on a language that isn't mine lol<3 but if there's any other mistake yes pls do tell me thank u OKAY BYE i needa quit yapping ENJOY dilf town<3

So it started something like this.

It was another simple nightshift for Logan. The weather humid, uncomfortably sticking the fabric of his white button shirt onto his skin. Even with the windows down. Those nights that the driving dragged on for long, like those cigarettes that now made him cough more than relax. The roads felt too long; his eyes too heavy.

Nothing new. Just about what to expect: money short, clients and traffic equally annoying. But that was the problem; nothing was new anymore.

He'd just finish dropping a customer close by, and since the tiring feeling didn't seem to leave his body just yet, a coffee wouldn't hurt. As a matter of fact, the need for a boost to make it home makes him get out of the car and limp his way into the first place his tired vision sees.

The rim of his recently adquired reading glasses slips as he climbs the stairs into the decades old diner, the decoration outdated. He understands; he feels the same way.

Neon lights flash his face when he enters the place and sits in the farthest booth he can find. The air is impregnated in grease and cheap coffee, but he waits at least fifty minutes to order, giving his body some time to rest. In the meanwhile, he tries to distract himself with the newspaper resting on the table, but God knows his eyes are too tired and his mind drifts every two words.

He hopes he doesn't get kicked out, judging from the attentive look he's receiving by a waitress resting on the bar. She looks as bored and tired as he does.

Maybe that's why he chooses her, raising his hand with order in mind. A black coffee. The waitress slides from her position and takes some steps to where he sits.

Her voice is sweet when she introduces herself, and Logan finds himself asking her again what her name is, pretending he's half deaf just to listen to it again.

"It's y/n" you repeat, oh so sickeningly sweet, he might have to skip on asking for sugar.

"Y/n" he savours the name on his lips, trying the tender sound, his eyes darting to the name tag, like he's confirming it. Testing to see if the young woman in front of him is real. Maybe his eyes linger a little too long, and the tip of your ears start to heat. Its the way he examines every feature on your face, like memorizing it in a sense, that makes you squirm. But maybe, just maybe, it's the small―brief, peak he gives to your exposed cleavage, pushing itself against the tight fabric of your uniform what truly gets your heart beating fast.

He looks like what your parents would warn you to stay away and your friends would talk behind your back. Rugged in a way that screams heartbreak, rough around edges your kind nature wishes to soften. It's unresonable to feel this way about a client you just met, but his aloof demeanor peaks your interest, so different from your usual costumers and familiar faces that pop up at the diner.

"Can I order you, darling?" his voice comes out deep, almost passing as a grunt. Just what you imagined it to sound. Why he's acting as his past self so effortlessly, after closing himself off to the point of going by entire days without talking more than three words, is concerning. Why the cute waitress who looks at him with doe eyes, expectant to take his order, is making him break the promise he made to himself not to get attached again―just live by enough to make it to the sea and put a bullet in his head.

"Well, that's just about my job" you joke, feeling confident for no reason. "But you can't order me".

"A damn shame" he chuckles, the sound deep, rumbling on his chest. It's been so long since he's laughed like that: carefree, without that pressing weight on his chest, that despite the sinking notion, sometimes feels more like a hole carved where his heart is supposed to be.

"So..." you trail off, unsure where to proceed after that sound that jolted your entire system awake, "what will you take?"

The banter dies, and Logan is dissapointed when she scribbles the dark coffee on her pretty round letter and walks away. He doesn't miss the sway of her hips, and almost calls her back just to hear her voice again. But he stops himself, because it's getting pathetic.

When she returns with her order, he almost regrets the comeback of his enhaced senses, her honeyed perfume mixed with the bitter smell of the freshly brewed coffee, creating an intoxicating mix.

His lips burn when he sips it, but that doesn't stop him from emptying the cup. Again. And again. All in the name for asking for more coffee, a magnetic force pulling him to the ground, making him forget he's a 200 and something year old man begging like a starved man for at least a fraction of her attention. He feels unworthy of your warmth.

He feigns interest on the newspaper when you return again (he's been stuck on the same paragraph ever since he sat down), the pot in your hands. If you've noticed he's emptied the cups faster than a normal person, you don't ask questions. He's thankful, but can see the amusement and confusion laced across your pretty face.

"More?" you ask, but it's unnecesary. He only nods, and you miss the chatter.

The closeness it's a challenge itself, the uniform's neckline practically shoved down his nose while she fills the cup to the brim. He hears his own heartbeat, the sound averting his attention from another "brief" glance at the cleavage. Is it intentional? Is your goodwill and act? Are you this cruel, playing with an old touch starved man like that?

God knows it's been long since he's had a helping hand during his relief hours.

He can't help it; he's a man, after all. So he seizes the moment and steals a glance. But his eyes meet yours, the wary green clashing with the cozy chocolate. There's warmth on your eyes, and he's looking at your tits like an animal. He pulls away, ashamed. The shirt feels a bit suffocating, and there's sweat on his forehead again. Great, you'll think he's a perv.

"Excuse me" you say, leaving his table. Logan is afraid of having fucked it up for thinking with this dick and not with his head. You were messing too much with his head, and now he'll pay the price. Fair, he thinks, for a perverted old man trying to woo a girl younger and far more innocent than him.

There's benevolance on her smile and blood on his hands.

The whole situation is stupid.

But then he's thinking of excuses (like saying it's his failing eyesight's fault) and something close to an apology, as if he cares a little too much about what you think. And then you come back.

"I forgot to bring you a napkin" she lies, leaving the piece of paper in the middle of the table. You laugh, and Logan let's you because 1. He deserves it, and 2. It's a sound as saccharine as the smell the freshly heated pies emit on the table across him.

You leave before he can even open his mouth, so all he's left with is the napkin that seems to have something written on it. Pervert, he reads, on the same calligraphy you scribbled on your bloc. He can't help but laugh, even with your watchful look on him.

That's how it continued.

Even if he had other rides and more energy to drive, he kept coming to the decaying diner just to see you. Almost as if he was forgetting his desperate need for the money, the boat goal further and further.

"You've forgotten about me" complained Charles, although his tone lacked of bite. "But I'm not mad that you've had".

He'd go on, rambling about living life but Logan just laughed. Yet, maybe he was right. Didn't even need his powers to know it.

Now, you? you simply couldn't get enough of your favorite costumer. Of his late stays until you closed, sometimes not muttering more than necessary, yet his company, even if curt, proved to be what you needed to make it through work, giving you a legitimate reason to yearn the before tedious night shifts.

Despite this two month weird relationship, Logan is as a stranger to you as he was the first day, no matter how many times you've tried to get him to talk. In the end, all your conversation efforts feel more of a monologue than a chat.

He knows about your mom and your dad, one strict the other dead. He knows most of your friends names, what you're studying and what you wanted to. Your dreams and your hopes, your aspirations, failures, and some other things you'd never say to anyone else out loud. All and nothing. And he listens, sometimes asking questions, but never about himself. He never takes the lead.

So frustration from the Logan enigma pours into you, the puzzle pieces layed out over your mind, consuming your thoughts. So now you're stubbornly cleaning the same grease spot on a table you've already wipped before, and that, coincidentally, it's the booth in front of Logan, the permanent resident of your head during these past weeks. You might as well make him start paying rent by now, his power and hold over you ridiculous.

"It's not going anywhere. Take it easy" he mocks you.

There's a bit of annoyance when you reply back, although it's mostly superficial. "Don't know what you're talking about" comes out your dry response, earning a low chuckle from him.

"How about you sit for a moment?" he offers, ignoring your apathy. "You're almost done cleaning up".

If his ever changing attitude isn't enough, closing this night's shift is as tiring.

Logan doesn't expect you to obey, but now you're sitting across from him, and a voice in his head says you maybe feel sorry for this lunatic old man.

You're so close, he can see the eye bags and sorrow you are far tired to try to hide.

"I have to finish cleaning" you explain, "we're about to close".

He doesn't know why he says it, or what takes over him when he says:

"I could wait for you"

He surprises himself and surprises you too.

"No need" you assure, and why does he feel so dissapointed. It's stupid. "My friend picks me up".

Ah, yes. The friend with the perfect stupid smile that picks you up every night. Not like he parks his car until you leave and sees the scene unfold each time, his white knuckle grip on the wheel a bit too much when the young boy opens up your door. Makes him see red, knowing he's your age and maybe the breathe of fresh air you need. Not a man far older, who bears too many sins and scars in and out.

"I see" he says after some minutes in silence, retracting his impulsiveness. "I'm sorry if I made you-"

"No!" you clarify hastily, "it doesn't bother me".

He smiles unconsciously in relief.

"Well, me neither. I insist. If you change your mind" he's practically begging, despite his monotone tone.

But you don't.

The place closes and Logan is forced to get in the car. He lights a cigarette, in no hurry to return home. The lighter lights up while the diner's light goes off. You and your boss come out, biding each other goodbye. She leaves and you're is left alone, hugging your body in the early morning cold.

He sees you wearing particular clothes, for the first time. He takes a slow drag on his cigarette, eyes running up and down your bare legs, the fragile fabric of the skirt fluttering in the wind. He exhales, watching as you dials your phone several times, getting no response, obviously frustrated.

He mutters something under his breath, and maybe there is a God after all. He starts the car, approaching her, who has already noticed it, probably because of the noise of the engine.

She looks scared, but Logan rolls down the window so she can see it's him.

"Need'a ride?"

Just by his reverberant sound you could accept. But you try to play cool for a while, despite your aching bones and need to get home.

"He doesn't answer" he was right, "my friend".

I know, he wishes to say, but he's the same hot headed asshole who walked through the doors of the X mansion for the first time, so his tone will be laced with irony. He doesn't want you to see him as an intense hot blooded mouth.

I could take you. His head pounds but he shuts the emotions down.

He shoves the knot on his throat down and asks as casually as possible, "do you live close?"

The question rings on his ears. It holds more than just the favor. Logan knows they have a certain tension between them that he no longer wants to ignore. For the first time it seems to be reciprocated; palpable, and he is surprised to hear his heart beating loudly, so accustomed to hearing others' with his sharp senses, constantly forgetting what his own sounds like. Yours also beats erratically, despite your calm composure.

"Just around the corner" you answer. A beat, your frame bending so he can see your face from the driver's sit, the cleavage saying hello again. How considerate of you. "Do you really want to do this?"

Do you really want to do this?

You arch an eyebrow, amused. "I can't believe you waited for me. Your family must be worried."

Logan realizes you're trying to test waters. So he raises his hand discreetly and places it on the door, so you can see the lack of a ring. As expected, your eyes travel to his free finger, and he can swear he sees you breathe with relief, which is funny, because in case you hadn't picked up until now, Logan is very much fucking alone.

"In case you changed your mind," he answers. "I have nowhere else to be."

That is enough of an invitation for you to get in the car.

"I was going to open that door for you" he protests.

You only laugh as you buckle the seatbelt. "It's not that big of a deal, really. You've already done enough for me by doing me the favor".

"It's not that big of a deal" he repeats your words, "as long as I'm of help, that's enough for me".

He smiles wistfully, remembering better times. A part of him still aspires to be that hero everyone loved and remembered, something that clearly doesn't happen anymore (or if it does, it's rare), given the lack of recognition of his former identity in El Paso. He shakes his head, focusing back on the street in front of him. It's too late to get fucking sentimental.

"I like to help too…" you confess, meekly. Logan sighs, how could he not know? "My father used to say that I had the kindest heart he'd ever met. I hope it stays that way, and that when he looks down on me, he's proud".

It hurts Logan to see you be so hard on yourself, as if he didn't do the same.

"I bet all the customers in the place would say you're the sweetest thing they've met", he sees you smile from the corner of his eye, and can't help but emulate it. "Believe me, you're their favorite".

"Thank you, Logan" you say sincerely. However, the affliction that he hates to see crosses your face. So gloomy that you don't even seem the same person.

You wipe away an unexpected tear, but Howlett is faster and notices. You turn around, looking towards the window. Then, you catch a glimpse of his license.

"So… you're a driver" you try to break the silence that Logan has put without knowing why. Maybe to give you some space after being sentimental and opening up again to this closed off wall name Logan, but he knows it's a lie. He's scared. After wanting so much to be closer to you, he cowers, not trusting himself and what he would do trapped in a small space with such an attractive woman. Besides, the tension from the previous conversation was still there.

"You judging me now, honey?" the pet name rolls off his tongue before he catches it. He tries to play it cool, continuing the banter, carrying the same tone. "The only thing necessary to make you trust me was to give you a free ride?

"I'm in your car, Logan. I got in without thinking" you laugh. "I believe that's enough trust"

"Then, I'll keep doing you favors. Maybe if I do…" he trails off.

Your voice drops an octave, provocative. "Maybe what?"

His knuckles grip the steering wheel until they turn white.

"Maybe…" he hesitates, "maybe…"

"It's here" you point out. Shit, Logan curses, braking abruptly without meaning to.

"See you tomorrow" you bid as a goodbye, getting out of the car. Logan misses your smell.

So he sticks his head out the window, like a begging dog.

"How about now?" he says a bit forcefully.

Your face shows surprise and something else.

"You're getting attached" you reply, and he doesn't know why there seems to be sadness in your voice.

"I just keep coming back for the coffee" he defends himself.

You laugh, shaking your head "Now, then. For the coffee, clearly."

"I can leave" he says. Yet, makes no move to leave.

You sigh, giving him one last look. Surrender, he reads.

"You're a driver, right?" he nods, taking in every word coming of your pink plush lips. "Then let's drive off. Anywhere" your voice trails off, and you're just so tired of everything, you'll just let go yourself with the flow. "I'll go wherever you go..."

And this is how it ends.

When you wake up, it's almost dawn.

Logan had suggested you to sleep, claming the road where he was taking you to be long. He had covered you with his jacket, even if your body was burning from nerves.

Why had you agreed? Your mom would probably smack your head in search for some sense, and your reckless friends would encourage you to do it for the sake of a story. But something about Logan makes you feel safe, despite not knowing anything from him. It's sort of a sense of protection―like he would never hurt you, that envelops him. Everyone else would call you crazy; only you can understand that.

When your eyes adjust to the light, you realize you're in a line of cars.

"Did you bring me to the border?" you exclaim groggily, still in a sleepy voice.

"Good morning" he answers instead.

You rub yoou eyes, settling into the passenger seat.

"You're not going to kidnap me, right?" you question, half joking half serious.

Logan laughs, "Not only that. I'm also going to throw your body in a mass grave"

"It's not funny," you pout, although you're laughing too.

Once you've crossed the border, Logan drives a few more minutes, until he reaches a restricted area.

“I live here” he answers before you can ask, “saves rent and questions”

After opening the locks, you can better appreciate the place. Well, appreciate may not be the right word.

“It's an abandoned smelting plant” you voice out loud.

Logan just nods. You realize that he didn't like the comment, so you try not to talk about it anymore.

“Come” he gets out of the car, going to open your door. He offers you a hand, and you fail to hide your smile.

“You didn't miss this time, huh? Quite a gentleman” you praise. Then, add jokingly, “if you choose to kill me, at least I'll die taken care of".

“Stop talking nonsense and go inside” he scolds but smiles.

Inside, the abandoned plant is exactly what you expected.

"We're alone" Logan says, after leaving to check. He opens the door to his room, letting you in. There's not much inside, just a bed and scattered things. A yellowish light begins to filter through the broken glass. "I'mma change. Be right back".

You begin to explore your surroundings, to avoid thinking about the impact of the situation. Two things could happen: leave or stay. Maybe everything was going too fast, but you prided yourself on your spontaneity, often confused with impulsiveness. Others would say it was your naive nature: too innocent for your own good.

What had led you to accept without further ado? Was trust enough, that you had even fallen asleep in his car?

"S'rry for the wait"

You notice that Logan's gotten rid of his formal attire, leaving him in just slacks and an old white tank top. His muscles flex with every movement, making you swallow involuntarily. He still retains his extraordinary physique, despite his greying hair. She can't help but stare at the scars that cover his exposed skin, her fingers itching to trace them.

"Haven't they told ya' t's rude to stare?"

You look away, embarrassed. Logan walks over to the bed, bumping into you in the process, bodies barely touching. Still, an electric shock runs through you. You hug yourself, scared, aware of the effect he has on you.

"Logan" she dares to ask, "what are we doing?"

He finally looks at you. You feel naked under his intense gaze.

"What do you want us to do?"

His voice comes out low, like a growl. You stand in place stiff, unable to form a word.

"Come on, honey", the nickname comes out of his lips so easily, it hurts. "Are ya losing your voice now? Got into my car a while ago without thinkin', what's changed?"

You slowly approach Logan, each stride calculated. He watches you in silence, a silence as hostile as the wind hitting the broken windows, watching you remove your clothes, until all that's left is your bra and that skimpy skirt, as if you knew he liked it.

"Logan…" you whisper his name like a prayer, letting yourself fall on his legs. He holds you with his hard calloused fingers, like a promise.

Don't let me fall. Don't let me go. Don't leave me.

The habit of loneliness settles in between, and the flame they thought in deep slumber rekindles, burning with their long time unattended needs.

"Use your words, sweet thing" the trepidation condenses between, "we're grown up now, aren't we? Use your words"

If by words he meant feeling your lips against his, it's enough to have Logan following his impulses, using his strength to embrace your body until they feel like one, the scars on his hands feeling like your own. Your lips move in sync, and it's almost so casual, so learned, so meant to be, that fear appears in Logan, soon forgotten with the symphony of moans that come from your lips.

"Tell me" he pauses, breaking away from the kiss (something you don't like and express in the form of a pout), "what do you want?"

Logan tastes like cigars and whiskey, a combination you hate and the reason you quit your old job at the bar, but on his lips, it's an intoxicating taste.

"I want you, Logan" you whisper, hot breath against his skin, “you”.

He resumes the kiss, an electric shock of hunger and need between you: lips parted, colliding, teeth almost clashing against each other.

His fingers hesitate with a delicacy that belies his rough touch, the tips of his worn fingers lifting the fragile cloth of your skirt first, revealing soaking wet panties he goes crazy just at the sight of. The smell is sugary, sicklingly, so now he's hard and pulling at the clasp of your bra first, exposing your nipples, which he rolls and pinches mercilessly. A gasp escapes you—then another, and another as Logan pushes his thigh between your legs. The friction is delicious, almost painful against your pulsing center.

His hand firm up his position, securing itself onyour bare legs as you digs her nails into him. His labored moans turn into a guttural growl.

“You think I’m not capable?” he mocks, stealing another moan from her, “that I can’t keep up with you, you pretty young thing?”

You deny it, but Logan takes it upon himself to show you that he can take you like he's in heat, the ghost of his old self taking over in his almost animal way of fucking you, hips arched, muscles flexed and tense, his teeth appearing every time he opens his mouth, reminding you of fangs. They dig into your exposed skin, leaving bruises that will take time to disappear from your shoulders and neck, marking what belongs to him.

The hardness of his skin meets your soft when he grabs you by the waist.

"Look at you" it slips from his tongue, ecstatic. He's a goner, saliva dripping from the messy and sloppy kisses he leaves through your collarbone, "so good and so pure. I bet you're innocent, that you haven't seen what I've seen..."

His pupils darken, a strange mix between torment and desire in his gaze. Hungry and violent.

"Will you let me show you how's a real man s'ppossed to treat a woman?"

He feels shame settle in his belly, the hunger to possess her almost virgin body fueling his dark desire of errasing her sweet smile until she's an unintelligible mess of sobs. To show her what she would complain about, so she'll never slettle for less. So you can feel what it's to be taken care of―handled. And then he'll fill you up with his seed, so no other man will take what's his. His sweet little thing. Oh, he's so going to hell for this.

But maybe he likes pain.

"That's it, honey" he plays with the fabric of your wet panties, pulling at the loose threads in the delicate fabric. "Let me show you".

You take it off, and Logan lies back against the bed, spreading his legs and unbuttoning his belt and pants―a clear invitation to repeat the previous position, except this time, his hands are on top of your hips, squeezing the soft skin. He doesn't take his eyes off you, his gaze reserved only on you. If the adrenaline from before pushed you, now the confidence gained motions you to finish the task. It's just the push you need, remembering that this is what it feels like to be with a real man as you throw a leg over his hips, sitting your ass right on top of the bulge marked on his underwear.

“Right… there…” he barely manages to formulate a coherent train of words, the years of lack of help in attending to his needs leading to overstimulation, “good girl.”

The compliment makes you increase the pace of your hips, his labored breaths a sound so rich and so manly it makes you squirm.

You need it desperately, rubbing your increasingly wet clit against him, riding the fabric. His scruffy beard barely hides the smug smile that graces his lips.

“Like this?” she whispers, and Logan can no longer contain himself, staring at his sweaty, ripped body failing to please her completely. It feels so good it aches, and he can't believe this is how he's ended. But if that means having your pretty face on top of him, covered in his marks, dripping on your joint sweats, well maybe it isn't so bad.

“How can I repay you, honey?” he pleads. He'll try he's best. He just wants to give you a glimpse of the way his whole world has light up ever since he stumbled in that greasy diner.

“You said you were going to show me” it comes out almost as a purr, expectant, “and I’m waiting”.

Logan takes it as his cue, pulling down his underwear until his member is exposed, chuckling darkly when you swallow at the sight.

"Don't tell me you're scared already" he teases, "look how you have me… you can't leave me like this…"

You stifle a scream as you feel every inch of his thick cock enter your sensible walls, trying to fit his member inside of your needy body.

"So tight for me" he stammers, using his hands to keep you in place, on top of him. The only sound in the silence of that place that smells of death is that of their skin colliding―vulgar, the obscenity highlighted by being the only thing that can be heard in the small room.

Even though his stamina has dropped over the years, he thrusts into you relentlessly. Logan fucks you senseless, his balls buried deep in your dripping pussy, a constant rhythm of avid suction with each entry to your walls.

He takes a moment to see you as you take something from the nighstand he doesn't remember putting there.

"Look what I found" you whisper in the middle of your moans. Logan recognizes the shine of metal in front of his eyes, "so Wolverine?"

You say it so easily, like it's not the first time. With acceptance; it scares him.

Do you recognize him? Are you not scared? Why haven't your eyes go from curiosity and kindness to cold and rejection?

He should panic, rip off his dog tags from your hands and pretend he doesn't know who he used to be, but he's so deep inside you and so enraptured, he can only manage to gently take them from between your fingers and put them around your neck, the cold metal against your warm, bare skin creating an electric shock.

"I want to see them on you"

He likes to watch it hang over his face while you're on top, panting heavily as she repeats his name, slurring her words. It dangles with every thrust, the silver glistens in the seeping sun, just like the sweat that adorns her skin.

"Are you that needy of your old man? " he teases, caressing her. He smacks the curve of his ass, “You want more?”

His veiny length makes quick work of your needy hole, more moans escaping your lips.

“Shit,” you curse, wincing at the pain that begins to increase. “Yes, Logan. Just like that. Nobody ever treated me like that, nobody's made me feel like this-”

He moans, pleased with the praise, seeing he isn't as lacking as he thought. Making you feel good is his priority, but he won't lie and say he doesn't want to feel it too.

In an attempt to distract yourself, your eyes try to focus on him: searching his features, memorizing every scar, every wrinkle, every little grey hair.

“You’re perfect, Logan,” you mumble through a moan, the confession hiding more than you want to say and more than he cares to admit.

Before he can process it though, the fire in his stomach signals the arrival of his impending orgasm.

There's something delightful about the way you can barely speak, a mess of moans that sound like his name, eyes half-lidded and lips swollen alongside your messy hair.

He feels almost sick to be consuming something that doesn't and shouldn't belong to him. He doesn't deserve to have such a beautiful, young woman riding him while she clings to him like he's the last thing in this world, him: a worn, old man who can't keep up with her.

His member spasms, and it's got you feeling it all inside your walls, causing him to close his eyes in the process as well.

It's too soon, Logan thinks in shame, but it's been so long and you feels so good, he let's it go:

Thick whips of his cum shoot out of his member, drawing out more than you would've imagined. You don't have much time to think about it, for the orgasm hits you immediately, fingers curling and eyes rolling to the back of your skull.

Logan feels his tip getting wetter, and the extra lubrication is a nice finishing touch.

“God,” he gasps, “what a mess…”

You avoid looking at him, taking one of his hands in yours, kissing the red and violet painted knuckles. If you do, you'll give away what you feel, the same way her memory burns in Logan's chest, more now than ever, as his mouth tastes just like you.

Dependency.

Devotion. Absolute. Sick.

Maybe that was what he felt. This weird feeling. That abyss piercing his chest but never killing him (so much for regenerating...), pressing his heart with a crushing force whenever it threathened to beat again. Logan was content with rather nothing, always a man who didn't ask for much, and since the death of his family―the X-men, less.

"You should go" he mutters in defeat, the shame washing over. Even if he'll miss your warmth, even if he doesn't want you to leave at all. "It's for your own good, y/n. Pretend you don't know me and turn around. Go away" he insists yet gets stuck on his words, "you're not stupid. Then you'll know it's good for you and you'll never speak to me again"

He looks at the ground, cowardly, because he wants your lust filled warm look to be the last memory he remembers. Not whatever look you're giving him now.

So Logan closes his eyes and counts to ten. When he opens them, you'll be gone. It'll be a dream, something too good to be true. Short lived, like every good thing in his life.

"Logan..." you calls his name. So softly it seems like a breath.

You're still here.

"Logan" you call again, more firmly.

"Logan" you don't give up, cupping with one hand his face gently, "look at me".

When he looks up, he comes across a heartbreaking vision. You cry, tears falling like waterfalls down your cheeks. But that's not the most devastating thing, no: it's the look in your eyes, as if you've shared his pain. As if you've had suffered the same things he had suffered; a twisted reflection of him.

"Of course I understand you" you take his hands, and Logan feels that same strange warmth he felt the first time when your hands brushed his with the diner's menu. "I've also lost people… people I loved. Don't you think it hurts me to see the world go on as if nothing happened? Everyone forgets, Logan. But I can't; there's not a day that goes by when I don't think about them"

For a moment, you stop crying, and the hidden internal turmoil he tried so hard to decipher finally makes sense.

"I don't know what you've been through either, but I can promise you, that I understand you more than you think…" it seems like you'll say something else, but you stop and say instead. "Think, Lo: would these people want to see you like this?"

"It's what I deserve" he murmurs barely, his voice constipated but without shedding a single tear.

"It's not what we want, Logan. Please" you sniff, pained "stop being so hard on yourself".

"I'm not who you think I am" he insists. You're still naked on his bed, and he feels dirty for having you like this. For taking you to his home and fucking you raw out of your innocence. "I'm not a good person."

"No, Logan" you seem hurt by that statement. You trace one of his most recent scars with a touch so compassionate, that he feels your fingertips burn, "you are a hero".

Your words were so sweet, so comforting. He wanted to sink into your lap, which smelled like flowers and tasted like safety. A home; a life that had been taken from him. He wanted to believe everything you said―feel who you believed he was. Not this pathetic, tired and apathetic version of himself, but the old version: the version that inspired respect, that despite his tough exterior, had a family he loved. Because he had a heart. Now he feels like he has no soul: no purpose, nothing.

But maybe you are the answer.

Before he can change his mind, you blurt out “can I stay?”

That morning, in that old bed that creaks under his weight, Logan discovers that feeling alive again isn't so bad.

205 notes · View notes

wttcsms · 10 months ago

Note

DRUNKEN CONFESSIONS WITH HIGURUMA PLEASE AND THANK YOU! (and maybe some nsfw if you're up to it?)

a rendering of regret, hiromi higuruma ;

pairing hiromi higuruma x f!reader word count 4.1k synopsis like everyone else who suffers from early onset midlife crisis syndrome, hiromi discovers two important things: he wishes he could fix things between you two and YOLO. like any other man with nothing to lose, he finds himself leaving the city and going back to his hometown, ready to be back in your good graces. content contains drinking, small town that sucks the life out of you but is home as the setting, being disappointed that growing up does not, in fact, solve all your problems, hiromi's mother is heavily implied to have committed su*cide, smut (riding hiromi, creampie, drunk sex)

Returning back to his hometown shouldn’t be as shameful of an ordeal as he makes it out to be, but the thing is, when you make a big show out of outgrowing small-town life, only to come back when it turns out the Real World sucks the soul out of you, it all becomes startlingly clear that you were never supposed to make it out in the first place. Becoming a hotshot attorney in Tokyo quickly disillusions any and all grandeur of being special and adulthood for Hiromi Higuruma, resident prodigy.

It turns out that city living is even worse than a quaint little town because, while there’s really nothing to do back home, there is entirely too much going on in Tokyo. The subway is always crowded and reeks of B.O., cheap perfume, overpowering cologne, and crushed dreams. There is never not a case that needs his immediate attention. With so many people existing all in the same place, at the same time, it somehow becomes increasingly harder to form real, human connections.

He knows that his mental break was long overdue, and honestly, he’s just shocked that his snapping hadn’t occurred sooner. Innocent people get tried for crimes on a daily basis; he knows this. He goes into this job knowing this, and witnesses it firsthand. It shouldn’t hit him so hard, but you told him, once upon a time, that at his core, he’s a good person. Hiromi Higuruma doesn’t think that a good person would punch both the prosecutor and the judge, but it certainly made him feel good.

The justice system is a sham, and growing up sucks. Hiromi thinks that for someone who popped out his mother’s womb a full-blown genius, he was a bit slow on the uptake when it came to realizing these two monumental truths. He decides not to waste any more time on trying to tackle the world’s problems on how he used to do, which is rationally and with a clear-head. Lately, Hiromi’s just been letting the intrusive thoughts win more often than not. He’s certainly not punching judges in the courtroom, but he tests out new experiences when he’s feeling particularly adventurous.

Adulthood is all about being able to take a bath in your suit and tie, and no one can give you shit about it besides yourself. There are absolutely no consequences to doing this, and Hiromi thinks people should advertise adulthood as getting to do batshit crazy things to yourself without fear of a scolding. That is much more realistic and sounds much more promising than bullshit like you’re going to change the world. The world sucks. Everybody sucks. Tokyo sucks. His hometown sucks. He sucks.

Perhaps the only good thing to come out of this life is you. You, Hiromi thinks, are the only person in the world who he can never look at differently.

Hiromi realizes too late that when you spend your whole life running from something, it eventually catches up to you, and it usually does whenever you’re out of breath and decidedly not prepared for life and past regrets to start pummeling you into the gravel. Hiromi has spent literal years avoiding any trace of you, and now he’s back home, probably worse off than he was when he originally decided to ditch this place, and his biggest past regret is standing in the staff lounge, making coffee from the communal coffee machine.

A shame, really. It’s almost embarrassing to be a grown man who gets literal heart eyes whenever he sees you. It’s doubly embarrassing whenever he realizes it’s been a decade since he’s last seen you, and that somehow, you still manage to make his heart get all hyperactive on him.

“Hi, stranger,” you say, pretending like the fucking ghost of Christmas Past isn’t standing in the staff lounge of the community college you work at.

“Hi,” he says, because for all his booksmarts, he can’t seem to come up with anything better. When he first skipped town, not even bothering to walk the stage for graduation, there had been a lot left unsaid between the two of you. Bringing up the past now, dredging up buried memories, seems like a bad idea.

“You must be the new law instructor.”

“Yes.” Apparently, as eloquent as he can be when it comes to defending his clients, he sure as shit is awful when it comes to saying the right thing to you. Then again, there are no instruction manuals to reference when it comes to facing your ex-girlfriend from high school who you never actually properly broken up with, just ghosted.

You stare at him, study him for just a second. Take in his tired appearance. The circles under his eyes. An apathetic expression you aren’t quite used to. Strands of hair still stick up a bit in the back of his head and a few more hang in his face — that, at least, is one thing that hasn’t changed.

“Good for you.” You tell him, and you leave it at that.

Hiromi Higuruma returning back to this shithole is certainly not on your bingo card on situations you thought would occur this year. Growing up, you were convinced more than anybody that Hiromi didn’t belong here. Not because of his appearance or the fact that his household was infamous for being a loveless, lifeless shell of a home and family, but because if anybody was destined for bigger and better things in life, it certainly would be Hiromi.

He’s always been smart, to the point where the teachers would practically give him free rein to do whatever he wanted to during class because he already studied the material beforehand. Usually, he just spent this time helping you with your assignments. You remember making a comment to him in high school one time.

“I’m holding you back, aren’t I?” You poke the book he’s ignoring in favor of helping you edit your essay for English Lit.

“No,” he says, eyes glued to your paper. He’s erasing something.

“Sure I am. You could be doing anything else besides editing my paper.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Well, I do.”

“You shouldn’t.” He’s rewriting a sentence for you. “There’s nothing I’d rather be doing.”

“You should stop helping me, Higuruma.”

He finally looks up from the paper. “What?”

“You should stop helping me.” You yank back your essay, unceremoniously shoving it into your bookbag. “It’s bad for me in the long run.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’ll just keep on depending on you, and then what am I gonna do when you leave?”

You mention this hypothetical as if it’s a fact. As if he is one hundred percent going to ditch this town and everybody in it. At the time you’re saying this, he doesn’t even know he’s going to leave yet.

“What makes you think I’m leaving?”

“You’ll die if you stay here.” Looking back, it’s comical how teenagers have a bad habit of voicing assumptions and then presenting them as fact. Hiromi Higuruma is the type of guy who cares so damn much about people and the state of the world, no matter where he goes, death’s going to follow. Caring is killer.

“Even if I do leave, I’d want you to come with me.” He doesn’t know why he says this, but he knows that it’s the truth. If you want to stay here, that’s the only reason he needs to stay. If you want to go, he’ll have his bags packed.

You search his eyes, looking for a possibility that he’s just saying stuff to appease you. Apparently, you find the sincerity you’re looking for because you give him a bright smile, hands already digging in your bookbag in search of your now-crumbled up essay.

“Pinky promise?”

“Pinky promise.”

He seals the deal by interlocking his pinky with yours. This is a sacred act. You made it a strict rule in your friendship, and Hiromi is a stickler for rules. You can’t break a pinky promise; it’s the type of vow that transcends legality. To break a pinky promise would be to break off your friendship, make it null and void. So, when the time to walk the stage and receive your diploma in front of the town comes, you’re confused as to why Hiromi isn’t there. He’s not home, either.

Hiromi left, his dad tells you. He looks like Hiromi, but since that’s his father, it’s the other way around. The only difference, besides the fact that he is a grown-up, is that Mr. Higuruma has what you call dead eyes. Lifeless. Like, he’s looking, but he’s not really seeing what’s there. He talks funny, too. All flat and emotionless, like he’s perpetually unbothered. You can’t even tell how he feels about his son’s departure, or the fact that there’s a teenage girl on his doorstep at seven in the evening, still wearing your cap and gown.

“Do you know where to?” You ask Mr. Higuruma, still hopeful, still feeling the ghost of his pinky twisted around yours.

“Tokyo.”

That checks out. You always knew Hiromi was meant for something more.

“I’m shocked he’s not put behind bars,” Yuki tells you, wiping down the bar counter. “Didn’t you hear what went down in the courtroom with him and that judge?”

It had made the news. You normally don’t care to tune in, but it was something that concerned Hiromi. Of course you heard all about it.

“I just don’t know what he’s doing back here.”

“This place is a dump. ‘Course someone down on their luck is gonna come slinking back in here.”

“Yuki…” You look at your best friend. “Didn’t you technically come back, too?”

“Well I never said I wasn’t down on my luck, now did I?” You can’t imagine someone like Yuki having to come back home with her tail tucked in between her legs. Yuki is the opposite of a loser; while the world beats people to a pulp, Yuki curbstomps the world. If Tokyo managed to send Yuki and Hiromi packing their bags, you don’t want to leave your hometown. Ever.

You meet Hiromi in grade school. Your town is too small to actually have its own public school, and so all the kids from home walk the two miles to the designated bus stop where this ugly, wretched faded yellow deathtrap on wheels comes squeaking and squealing to pick you up and take you all to the nearest city’s school.

Everyone knows that you all are the students from the rinky-dink town that’s such a shithole that it can’t even produce its own school. Finding work in that town is hard enough as it is, but you grow up used to being surrounded by your other financial equals. It’s hard to find your footing amongst a crowd of kids who get new shoes every school year and can afford the fancy crayons. You know, the ones that aren’t just glorified lumps of colored wax that would probably work better as candles instead of cheap art supplies.

Hiromi gets most of the city students’ attention, though. It’s not as if it’s a surprise to you that they like to pick on him for his nose — it’s like the joke’s practically staring them right in the face.

You are surprised, though, that he takes it so hard. He’s sitting alone at the front of the bus, staring out the window, and you think you catch a tear running down his cheek.

You know that Hiromi is always early to a fault; he waits outside for the bus a good thirty minutes before it’s even scheduled to show up, just to ensure that he won’t miss it. You have to get up extra early as a result because you think it would be better to try to make friends with Hiromi without an audience.

Before you can lose all confidence in yourself, you go for it. You take one grubby little hand of yours and swipe awfully close to his face, nearly hitting his nose in the process.

“Got your nose!” You wave your hand in the air, smile slowly falling when you realize that he doesn’t look amused. “Sorry. I was trying to help.”

“How was that supposed to help?” He doesn’t sound mean when he says it. He sounds curious, like he’s genuinely trying to hear you out. You will soon learn that that is the type of person Hiromi is. He might be the only person in the world who doesn’t judge someone within the first five seconds of meeting them.

“Y’know, so when the other kids in school make fun of your nose, you know they’re lying.”

“How would they be lying?”

“‘Cause I got your nose. How are they making fun of something they can’t see?”

Logically, young Hiromi knows that this is not the case. His big, fat nose is still smack dab in the center of his face, and the “nose” you captured is just your tiny thumb tucked under your fingers. Logical thinking is no fun, though, so Hiromi goes with it, and the two of you have been inseparable ever since.

Hiromi Higuruma has a lot of regrets, actually. In his mental tier list, the bottom of the barrel shit is made up of petty things, like not punching his grade school bullies in the face for being little assholes, or not trying Kitakata ramen when he had the chance. Then, there’s the stuff just a level above, which is less-silly things, like how he regrets the way he handled certain cases and the fact that in his haste to return home, he didn’t pack a pair of comfortable house slippers, and the ones he bought at the only convenience store in town feel too stiff.

At the very top, his biggest regrets are all centered around you. This isn’t to say that he regrets you, but he does know that his treatment of you haunts him during the nights he lies awake in bed and wonders why the fuck life sucks so hard. He hates that he didn’t admit to you that he liked you sooner, that he wasted so many of his high school days awkwardly trying to hide the fact that he’s hopelessly devoted to you. He hates that he didn’t get a chance to take you to prom. He hates that he didn’t tell you that he was leaving, that he didn’t think to bring you with him, that he never called or texted after he left because he was too embarrassed and scared at the prospect of you not wanting to hear from him after how he left without a trace. He regrets not telling you why he left, that he caught his father and his mistress together, and how disgusted he felt at seeing such a sight. That the next day, he vowed to tell his mother, only to knock on her bedroom door (it’s no surprise that his parents never shared the same bed for as long as Hiromi could remember), and when she didn’t answer, he opened the door, only to be greeted by her still body in bed, three empty orange pill bottles on the nightstand.

He couldn’t have stayed, and he was rendered speechless. Final transcripts had already been released, and walking for graduation was optional. Hiromi took whatever meager savings he had, clicked “accept” for his college admission to Tokyo U (full-ride, because if anyone was going to get a scholarship based on academic merit, it would be Hiromi), and skipped town. Everything in the world to him appeared to be in shades of black and white, the occasional bright orange catching his eye, haunting him, taunting him.

Life is too short, though. Too short to waste time in bed, in an apartment he hates located in a city he despises, to look back at all his shortcomings. If he could go back in time and do things differently, he would. He wouldn’t have punched that judge or the prosecutor (even if they totally did deserve it), and he wouldn’t have kept his acceptance into Tokyo U a secret from you. He would have taken you to prom, and he would’ve asked you to come with him to Tokyo, escape this dump of a town and take on the big city together. He thinks he probably would have hated Tokyo less if you were with him, you and your nonsensical logic that makes the worst things to ever happen to him suddenly seem bearable.

He should tell you all of this, but he’s drunk because Yuki is manning the bar, and she pours with a heavy hand. He never really spoke to the blonde despite the fact that they grew up down the street from each other, attended school at the exact same time, same grade, same everything. The downside of living here, it seems, is that everyone you’ve ever known is entirely unavoidable. You run into them everywhere. You want to drown your sorrows in amber liquid served in questionable, grimy glassware, and the person aiding in your slow death is the very girl who used to wake you up in the middle of the night due to the sound of her revving up her obnoxiously loud and ancient (she claims vintage) motorcycle that she bought for cheap at a junkyard.

The upside of living here, it seems, is that since everyone is unavoidable, you are running into him here.

You take a seat to his left, conveniently leaving one barstool between the two of you. Yuki is joking around with you, saying something that makes you laugh, and the urge to do something very stupid builds up in Hiromi. He’s been totally chill with the whole “letting the intrusive thoughts win” routine, but he wants to handle his relationship with you with a delicate hand.

“Can I buy you a drink?” He asks you, hoping that his words don’t come out slurred.

“I’d normally say yes, but Yuki gives me my drinks on the house.”

Yuki yanks back the drink she made you. “If Ace Attorney over here wants to pay for your drink, you’re getting charged, hon. Sorry. Girl’s gotta make a living.”

Conversation with Hiromi comes naturally to you. Everything you do with Hiromi comes naturally. The alcohol helps warm you right back up to him, dormant feelings now coming back to life. You think you’re too old to have butterflies in your tummy when you make tequila-induced attempts at flirting with him (at least, you think you’re flirting; it’s been a while since you actually tried). You think that you definitely don’t give a shit whenever he plays along, because that’s just what he does, what he always has been doing.

When he left, everyone in town was under the impression that Hiromi had been stringing you along. The fact of the matter is, you have Hiromi wrapped around your finger to the point where he doesn’t think he could ever get unstuck.

Everything you do with Hiromi comes naturally, and it’s only natural to have him walk you back to your apartment. It’s only natural that you invite him inside to “catch up” some more, and it’s only natural that “catching up” involves you grinding on his lap, sinking his body deeper into the pink loveseat in your living room.

Your dress is tugged up to your waist because easy access means you don’t have to get naked to get dicked down. Hiromi’s suit pants are admittedly not made for quick fucks, but if there’s a will, there’s a way. His pants are unzipped, briefs adjusted enough so that his dick can unceremoniously be freed from its confines and make its way to where it truly belongs, which is buried deep inside the warmth of your cunt.

Hiromi finds pleasure in the discomfort of it all. If he was doing this with anyone else, he’d be hyper aware of the stiffness of his dry cleaned suit, and how the loveseat seems to protest with the combined weight of you two rocking back and forth on top of it. He’d be too irritated with the way sex would wrinkle his clothes, and he probably wouldn’t even be this hard because he drinks so he has a valid excuse for never taking a woman home with him.

Because it’s you, everything is felt to the extreme, but you have this way, this charm, this spell, that makes everything that happens to Hiromi better. The best. You are the best he’s ever had, and he thinks he grunts this into your ear as you rest your body against his, upper body limp and boneless, your lower half moving up and down, trying to get a good angle so his cock can hit right there.

He kisses your shoulder, and he experimentally thrusts up, and you let out a string of moans that are interspersed with little breathy fuck’s, and he thinks this might be one of his most favorite sounds in the whole entire world. So he keeps thrusting, keeps relishing in the way your walls seem to clamp down on him, keeps enjoying the way you hang onto him and whimper out his name.

He is drunk, and he is in love, and he knows that he didn’t come here with the intention of fucking you boneless, but you don’t seem to mind, didn’t seem to mind when you kissed him first and started grinding on him, the catalyst to the situation he’s in now.

He planned on telling you the truth, the story about why he left, about how he feels stupid on how he handled the whole situation. The bourbon he downed earlier this night seems to be affecting his brain, though, because all he knows is that there is only one confession he is capable of giving to you right now.

“I love you.” He groans, his hands finding your waist, gripping hard. “Fuck, I love you. Never stopped.”

His cock feels too good when it's buried deep inside of you. You know it’s silly and stupid, but you want to tell Hiromi that you want him to fuck himself so deep that he can touch your heart with his dick. No other man would want to hear some creep shit like that, but Hiromi is Hiromi. He would get it. You drunkenly tell him your wish, and he lets out a little breathy laugh, rolls his hips, and rocks your world.

“I’ll give it my best shot.” He says, and because the alcohol tells him that his sobriety makes him a bitch, he reminds you once more. “I love you.”

You cum. The sex is drunken and messy, and while drunk sex usually happens in a blurry haze for you, you are seeing everything clearly. You can see the crease in between his brows as he concentrates on maintaining the perfect balance between relishing in your wetness and not overstimulating you. You can see the way his eyes greedily, lovingly, admire the messy sight of your joined bodies. You can see his nose, tall and as noticeable as ever, and so Hiromi.

You want to tell him that you love his nose, but speaking is hard when he dicks you down like this. All you can do is press a kiss to the tip of it. This only makes him tighten his grip on your waist, his thrusts getting more erratic, and then you feel a nice warmth flooding inside of you. The two of you are rational adults, and rational adults know that cumming inside should be a no-no between two people who have yet to establish what the fuck you are to each other.

“I love your nose.” You tell him, when you finally manage to catch your breath. He’s still buried inside of you, and you’re afraid that when he does eventually have to pull you off of him, everything’s going to come spilling out of you. The thought of separating from Hiromi makes you frown. You just got him back.

“I love you.” He says back, for the nth time this night. Maybe he’s making up for lost time. Maybe he’s just drunk. You don’t care. Hiromi is back, and even if he leaves again, you’re happy that he’s at least here with you right now.

“You’re drunk.”

“If I tell you when I’m sober, will you believe me?”

He’ll sober up tomorrow. If he tells you when he’s sober, that means he’ll have to stay. He won’t go.

“Yes.” You say, trying not to reveal the fact that you already believe him. Hiromi is not as impassive as he thinks he is. “Pinky promise.”

You feel the familiar warmth of his finger twisting ‘round yours.

“Pinky promise.”

#hiromi higuruma x reader #higuruma x reader #jjk x reader #smut #one shot #drabble #jjk fanfiction #jjk smut #hiromi higuruma smut

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redlyriumidol · 8 months ago

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things that would have been cool writing choices for dragon age imo, not necessarily better just interesting:

loghain doing the dark ritual on his own if the warden chooses not to. I'm not sure this is in character really it just would have been wild for a character to make a Decision like that without you. maybe only if you have low approval or something (even though its difficult to get approval either way bc you get him so late)

anders somehow using gaatlok to blow up the chantry. much as i enjoy digging through sewers for poo crystals this would have tied the various plots between acts together so nicely. this one i legitimately think would have been better.

I said this in a different post but not allowing you to go to the circle during the arl of redcliffe because it's a cheap copout and makes no sense. either give us consequences for running off and spending 300 hrs in the fade or force us to make a hard choice.

a fourth secret persuade option for mage wardens to let eamon be possessed instead of killing connor or isolde. I know i've said this a lot. But the deal would be Arl Deamon agrees to act the part until the blight is over and the dialogue is slightly different during the landsmeet etc and ur the only one who knows why. ;) epilogue slide where he's eventually discovered and killed but not before he Wreaks some Havoc

giving thrask and grace more protagonism in da2 and having them survive, and THEY become the mage/templar leaders in dai rather than randos samson and calpernia.

an acknowledgment in the anders romance that justice is ALSO in love with hawke. awakening anders was a fun flirty commitmentphobe whereas justice was an intense weirdo about kristoff and aura's relationship and even expressed jealousy towards them. which was soooo interesting. anders being so intense and lowkey possessive (love him tho) in the romance makes so much more sense if it's actually coming from justice. "justice doesn't approve of my obsession with you" bro justice IS the obsession be fr.

isabela not betraying you in the fade if she has 100% approval and is romanced. i always find this out of character especially since she betrays you JUST for a ship and not anything actually meaningful like the others. or if it was a ship but the demon's offer was more explicitly about freedom/escaping from castillon (which can be read btwn the lines but I think it should have been more obvious) that would have been much better.

#i can probably think of more tbh but these r eternally in my brain #loghain mac tir #anders dragon age #dragon age #dragon age talks #isabela dragon age #justice dragon age #idk if anyone looks for justice content but i love him so much. he's an incredibly interesting character. justice4justice #all of his awakening banter is absolutely golden

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chaotic-iguana · 1 year ago

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how about a five where Javi rejects the reader, so the reader like gets really sad, but one day Javi hears she is going on a date (is not true, Murphy made it up) and he rushed to her apartment and confesses and reader is like ?? What are you talking about, super angsty but super fluffy? Pleaseeee

Out of time | javier peña x f! reader

summary: javi rejects reader. repents like the idiot he is. (i love him) he is a FOOL in love. fight me.

wordcount: 2.1k

warnings: rejection, angst and fluff, hurt and comfort basically, happy ending.

A/N: i got you, anon. this promt is the perfect apology for the last one. repentance fr. love u ALL. let me know what you think. also nothing against “hippies” just giving murphy pov. i do however as an indian have a bone to pick with fake white yoga gurus. it’s gotta be appropriation.

masterlist

Javi had never been heartless before. Never been cruel before. Now, as you pointedly hunched over your desk in an effort to ignore the chortles and cheap jokes that kept sounding from the men crowded around his desk as they all stood around a nameless note someone -you- had slipped onto his desk.

He laughed boisterously with them, before crumpling the paper in his fist and dropping it into the bin next to his chair. You refused to so much as raise your head and look his way, feeling the crushing wave of heartbreak sweeping through you. It wasn’t until you felt a tear on your cheek that you realised that you had started crying, and so you muttered an excuse about getting some coffee before rushing to the bathroom and sobbing in a closed stall. So much for Valentine’s day.

It wasn’t until the end of the day, when you saw him walking your way in the parking lot, that you met his eyes. And you could see, with the set of his jaw; the arch of his brows, that he knew. Before you could scramble into your car, he was yelling after you.

“Is your new hobby being extended to everyone or did I win the lucky draw? Cute note.”

Oh, that bastard.

You scoffed, looking him straight in the eye. “Call it a moment of weakness, Peña. Thought I felt something for you, and it was Valentine’s day. Pretty sure all I feel now is rage, you asshole.”

A laugh from him. “Don’t be like that, hermosa. Let me know if you feel something between your legs for me, alright?”

Scowling, you turned from him and got into your car. You could have sworn he looked like a kicked puppy as you pulled out of the parking. These past few weeks, you had caught him looking at you more often. Finding excuses to touch you more often, too. A hand on your back, fingers accidentally grazing yours, his knee pressed against your thigh in Murphy’s backseat. Fucking idiot. You didn’t even know if you were madder at him or yourself. You know him. All of fucking Bogota knows him. God knows how you were foolish enough to think he felt anything except for between his legs.

A few months go by, excruciatingly slowly. It’s as if time itself has decided to fuck with you. You miss his gaze on you, his hands, his smile, him. You’ve been avoiding him like the plague. Stopped looking at him even when he was in the same room, hardly spoke to him even if it was in the middle of a raid, declined Connie’s many many invitations to parties you knew he’d be at. It was just easier to pretend that February the 14th had been a completely normal day. You’re just tired of all of it. It would have been easier not to have said anything at all.

What you were completely unaware of, however, was that you had a sneaky little shit for a partner. The fact that he had clocked what was going on immediately was completely unbeknownst to you. Both of you pining silently with what Steve dubbed “moony heart eyes”, the radio silence, and the fact that you had stopped talking to Connie just so you didn’t have to show up to her parties? Something had gone wrong. Initially, Steve thought that maybe Javi had made an unwanted move on you - and had damn near scuffed him to death - until he saw Javi’s eyes the next day. Haunted. It seemed that you had managed to take more out of the man than Escobar had. But you weren’t faring much better, either. Irritated and tired and grumbly all the time, refusing to so much as look in Javi’s direction. But you both were pretty much just staying out of each other’s ways, not causing any trouble, so he let it go. For now.

But then Steve and Javi had to chase a lead down together, and Javi introduced him to an informant who - with a little imagination - looked like your spitting image. The same hair, terrifying similar voice, and a lopsided grin, just like yours. And it clicked. The day that had started it all, and the “anonymous” note Javi had gotten. The idiocy with which you both had handled the situation made him want to run unarmed into a sicario’s den, but he came up with another idea instead.

Just before a weekend he knew on good authority that you had no plans except for lounging in bed, he started nudging and hinting to Javi the randomest shit about you. Just to reignite the interest. Almost like, you know - bait.

“Man, her hair looks good. I wonder if she got it done?”

“Hey Peña, d’ya reckon that’s a new skirt? Connie’d kill me if I didn’t ask where from”

“Javi - look - she got her nails done. Before an op? Doesn’t that get a bit…impractical? Hey, I’m jus’ asking.”

Each time, Steve was met with an irritated eyeroll, scoff, or just flat-out ignored. But around midnight on Friday, he ‘bust out the big guns’, so to speak, making an offhanded comment while jutting his chin out in the direction of your chair.

“Good thing she left early. Never woulda made it to the date tomorrow mornin’ otherwise.”

Which, instead of being met with the usual options, was met with Javi’s brain almost short circuiting. The sight of his friend, gaping like a fish as his eyes practically bulged out of his head while he stammered out the easiest one-syllable word in the English language is one Steve can never forget. Or let Javi forget, either.

“W-wha-what?”

And so, like the most devious matchmaker on the planet, Steve proceeded to make up some utter bullshit about a boy he’d supposedly seen you around with, one that had apparently asked you out tonight to meet him for ‘brunch’ tomorrow. Just to fuck with Javi, he made the guy from LA, and a tourist. And white. And the kinda hippie who did yoga and spoke about his newly-discovered chakras all the time.

Javier could feel the blind panic clawing at his chest, his heart threatening to burst. He didn’t know exactly why, but he had hated every single second you hadn’t spoken to him. Laughed at his jokes. Flashed him your smile, even the sarcastic one. He missed your quips and the way you groaned and swore at him when he pissed you off. He’d convinced himself he could live with that. But this? A date with some idiot he knew wouldn’t treat you right? He couldn’t understand his own feelings compelling him to pack up in a frenzy, ignore Steve’s pointed laugh, scramble into his car and drive straight to your apartment. He didn’t even stop to smooth his hair back, or fix the wrinkles in his shirt from slumping in it all day. No, all that mattered to him in that moment was you. Who was he kidding? He knew exactly why he felt the way he did. He’d just been under the illusion that ignoring it would make it go away, but it hadn’t. He had to fix this now.

Standing on your doorstep, Javi blinked for a second while marveling at how fast that drive had been - he’d barely registered doing anything since he heard the word date come out of Steve’s mouth. Hesitation clamped a hand over his mouth, his body, and he stood frozen, unsure of whether to knock or just turn around. But if not now, never, right? And who knew how long he would live? Wasn’t this a time he should be getting what he wants, spending time with the people he…loves?

Before he could overthink himself out of doing it, Javi raised his fist and rapped it against your door, twice. And when you opened the door, rubbing your eyes and standing there in your sleep shorts and an oversized shirt, it took a second for his brain to catch up. It wasn’t until you were squinting at him, then stumbling over nothing as your eyes widened that he realised where he was. The hurt on your face in the split second before you moved to close the door had him jamming his foot in the doorframe.

“Just hear me out, hermosa. I promise if you want me to fuck off after that, I will.”

After waiting for you to nod and open your door wordlessly, he stalked after you, further into your apartment, stunned by how homely it was. The walls had pictures of you and other people laughing, of art and paintings and sketches that seemed to all have been done by the same person; the sofa was a rich brown leather and the fluffy throw on it just a shade lighter. Everything was carefully coordinated, in color and texture, and he couldn’t help but note the contrast. Some of his stuff was still in boxes. He’d been in Colombia for longer than you, and his stuff was still in boxes. The difference was laughable.

But when he heard a sniffle from ahead, he found himself walking faster - practically walking into you - before he was planting his hands on your shoulders to turn you around to him, and then gripping the sides of your arms as if they were his salvation. His eyes searched yours, and the heartbreak he found as you tried to look away threatened to make his knees buckle. So he hooked an index finger under your chin to tilt your head up to him, resting his forehead against yours. Moving his thumb to smooth out the furrow in your brow, he huffed at the stubborn frown that refused to budge.

“I am sorry. I truly am. I didn’t know what to do, I didn’t know how to react. I want you, and I did then, too. But I just…didn’t think it was real. I swear I thought you were joking at first. It’s why I let the guys see. Then I saw you in the parking lot, and you were actually sad, and I just panicked. I just don’t think I was ready back then. But I swear to God, I can’t bear another six months of the cold shoulder. I love you, you know. I’ve just been too much of an idiot to realise it.”

For a whole minute, you just stare at him unblinkingly. Then, suddenly, your face crumples, limbs slackening in his grip. He holds you through it, letting you sob into his chest as he coos reassurances and apologies to you until you pull back from his embrace to look at him questioningly once more.

“Why now?” Your words make Javi smile, and he cocks a brow at you.

“You really thought I’d let that idiot take you out before I told you how I feel?”

You look even more confused now, which is confusing him in turn.

“Wait, what idiot?” There’s no twinkle in your eye - no smirk tugging at your lips. Not a joke.

“The one who…asked you out?” Javi cocks his head at you, watching your frown deepen.

“Who?” The absolute befuddlement on your face is on the verge of making him snigger, and he feels his lips twitching already.

“The-does Murphy know? That you weren’t busy tonight?” His overworked mind supplies the answer to him, and he has never more in his life wanted to punch and hug his other partner simultaneously.

“Oh, yeah. He asked cause Connie wanted to know if she could come over? I guess she must have gotten caught- oh. Oh.” Javi gives you a moment to reach the same conclusion he did, and both of you end up bursting out in laughter at the same time.

But Steve was the one with the biggest grin when, come Monday morning, a bottle of premium whiskey and a brand new watch sat on his desk with a little note:

Well played, motherfucker.

What is it they say about couples adopting each other’s habits when they get into a relationship? Javi’d picked up your so-called hobbies within a weekend.

You ended up spending enough time with each other to pick up everything else, too. Call it cliché, but atleast you weren’t boring. Or, you know, going on dates with imaginary guys that existed only in Steve’s extremely limited imagination. Win-win.

hello loves, as always - thank you for reading. comment your thoughts or find me on ao3. stay hydrated and have a great day! taglist: @imherefordeanandbones @theywhowriteandknowthings, @josephquinnswhore,@millerscoffee, @ nostalxgic, @sscorpiiiio, @pedrosaidsheispunk dividers by @reveriesources

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shepscapades · 10 months ago

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*rotates dbhc!Xisuma and Doc in my head*

I'm sorry but I absolutely lose my mind over them ( I have literally no one who I could ramble about this to and I need to get it out). I want to analyse stuff, so let me just:

*breathes in*

It's visible that they are good friends and have been since the time when Doc deviated, research partners doing... research? Or whatever researchers do *shrugs*.

But there's one thing to it, X created Doc and most of other androids. He understands what is deviation because Doc explained it to him but his friend is still an android after all. We also know that X always calls Doc "Docm" but in previous comic he calls him "Doc" and it is stated that it's the first time he ever called him that. In which moment he calls him that? In the moment when he realises that Doc is more human than android now, I may be delusional about this all but I just feel like: the moment when he sees Etho overpower Doc, shove him and break him and stuff, Xisuma sees that Doc isn't a fearless machine but a someone, a human, he got overpowered by Etho and suffered consequences, he felt fear like a human not a machine. Also he lost his arm because he was trying to stop Etho from hurting X as we see in the second part of the comic, which only adds to that. So, this is the moment where X fully realises that he means something to Doc, not as a creator, but as a friend, and that's why for the rest of the comic he constantly makes sure if his partner is alright by talking to him, glancing at him. You know stuff. He grew closer and closer to Doc as time passed and I think this was the climax - the moment he called Docm77 "Doc".

While Doc is doing the most stoic stuff ever and trying not to self destruct and stuff, he cares about X too, very much even, he's protective towards him and shows it by jumping into danger he could have avoided [ Etho attacked X because he's an admin and probably knows where's Grian - Etho wants to hunt down this pesky bird for killing Bdubs] just so his partner won't get hurt how sweet <3 RIP arm you will be remembered...

Anyways I feel like they should talk about stuff and maybe cuddle and maybe I don't know LIVE?? NOT DIE??

Yeah, I think that I don't even need to explain for how long they've been spinning in my head.

Also wanted to thank you so much for so many kind words on my fanart !! I'm glad I can make someone happy with my cheap, old drawing tablet and some self taught skills lol sorry for flooding your ask-box again so so sorry but those comics make me go AWOOGA holy shift, and also DOC AND X CONTENT !! They are so underrated that you almost can't find anything good relating to them as a duo! [personally I think they're great, just two dudes that do things together and care for eachother <3]

So, yep. Prepare yourself for things like that after every new part comes out I WILL make memes and I WILL analyse block men.... sorry not sorry :)

[how to get me into an AU- tutorial: Xisumavoid must be in it- the end]

WE ARE ROTATING THEM. WE ARE WATCHING THEM ROTATE!!!!! you freaking GET me

(THERE ARE SOME INTERESTING THOUGHTS HAPPENING HERE!!!! None of which I’ll confirm but Eye Emoji :3 I love love love these theories they make me so happy ehehehehehe)

(ALSO YOU’RE SO WELCOME!!! That art made my day fr LMAO I love and appreciate it so much!!! <3)

#totally agreed. doc and xisuma are underrated #not even as a ship #just as friends I love their duo soooo much #I have a feeling xisuma and doc are gonna do smthn in season 10 together. I just have a feeling #then you’ll all be sorry /idk what this means #dbhc ask #dbhc xisuma #dbhc doc #art escapades #1-marigold-1 #the shepherd #my sona #LISTEN YALL GET ME TOO ON THE XISUMA THING #I THOUGHT ABOUT XISUMA FOR TWO SECONDS. WATCHED 5 MINUTES OF HIS VIDEOS. AND WENT. oh okay so I’m making him important in this au.#Xisuma is SUCH an underrated creator I love him SOOOO much Hes so funny and silly and charming #anyway sorry for rambling I’m just RGHRGHRGHR about him #I’m also crazy about doc #so naturally. gestures #dbhc theories

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marcellaasblog · 1 year ago

Text

Eyes for the Geezer

Main masterlist

Summary: Your boyfriend Wyatt takes you to go meet his parents for the first time.When you find out Wyatt has been cheating on you threw out y'all whole relationship,you take Eddie up on his offer but will that do you any good in the end?

Warnings for the whole series: cheating, divorce, angst,smut, smoking,p in v,daddy kink, pervert Eddie, Wyatt's mom is an ass to you, mention of Steve, insecure reader,dom Eddie, switch reader, Wyatt mom is a cheater,huge age gap,insecure Eddie, and of course fluff with a Happy ending??

Author's notes: Eddie is 50 reader is 27 . I'm gonna keep the same names from the old story. Beth (Eddie's wife) Wyatt (beth & Eddie son) mack/Mackenzie (Wyatts ex girlfriend)

Part 1 // part 3

Part 2

Everything was going great,Wyatt was laughing at his dad's joke. You were chatting up with Beth sipping some cheap wine,All four of y'all were being peaceful with each other and you liked it. You liked being a part of things like this.You like feeling included instead of being left out.

You can get used to this.

That's until Wyatt's phone went off and it was like the whole energy in the room shifted.

Wyatt started up an old argument from years ago which caused a yelling battle in front of his parents.

Was it embarrassing?

Yes.

Was Wyatt being an asshole?

Definitely.

Wyatt did the most childish he can ever possibly do

Left

Without

You!

You gotta be fucking kidding me! What were you supposed to do now ,you can't just stay in someone's house that you barely knew.

Eddie felt terribly bad that Wyatt was being a dick to you.

But he did get to have you at this house, so that was a bonus.

Eddie didn't want to take you back to the hotel so he made up an excuse saying he was very tired and and maybe you and Wyatt needed some space from each other so he let you sleep in their guest bedroom for tonight . Eddie went to go get the room cleaned up for you like a good man he was.

On the other hand Beth was already pissed that her son left a woman in her house she barely knew. Which was understandable But you were too tired to even care about what she said.

You just needed Eddie to hurry up with the room .

Maybe some good sleep would help you but tomorrow you needed to go talk to Wyatt and sort things out with him.

You love him and you weren't going to let a little fight get between the both of you.

Eddie lays out a new sheet on the bed for you as he Puffs up your pillows for your pretty little head. He wanted to make sure you were as comfortable as possible.

He thought to himself for a second.

Would it be wired for him to turn on the cameras that were in the guest room?

Yes,yes it would. but hey no one had to know.

He just wanted the camera on so he could keep an eye on you and to make sure you were okay and safe.

He just wanted to make sure his guest was comfortable.

Yeah keep on telling that lie to yourself munson.

Eddie heads downstairs after he got his camera to turn on making sure that he could see the video footage on his phone.

He swears he's just doing it to check up on you.

That's all.

"Hey y/n the room is all yours now." Eddie said as he led you upstairs.

"Thank you Eddie this means Alot,sorry about the whole argument that me and Wyatt got into . I swear we were okay till now. I don't know what got into him." You apologize putting your purse down on the Queen size bed slipping your coat off from your tired body.

Oh,if only you knew what he knew.

"Don't apologize sweetie,it wasn't your fault. Wyatt can be an ass sometimes,but he gets that from his mom." Eddie said, leaning against the door of the guest room. You giggle at Eddie's little comment about Wyatt.

"No but seriously don't feel bad."

"I know but I can't help it , I didn't want to be a disturbance to your family the first time I meet y'all." You sit at the edge of the bed taking off your beat up boots.

Eddie eyed you as you leaned down to take your boots off, he caught a glimpse of your perky breasts from the opening of your shirt. He shifted his legs leaning on the other foot quickly pulling the crock of his pants away to his already hard bulge.

Fuck him for getting old and getting hard so quickly.

"You're not a disturbance y/n."

"That's not what your wife thinks." You tell Eddie as you look up at him.

You were right,but Beth hates everyone. It was normal.

"Yeah well ,this isn't her house it's mine so you're allowed to stay here as long as you please." Eddie told you to put a smile on your face.

God you had such pretty lips with a pretty smile.

He was just about to say fuck the plan so he could feel your lips on his.

Take a deep breath Eddie not yet.

"That's very kind of you Eddie thank you" You tell him

"No problem sweetheart, we're friends now and friends help out friends." He applied as he backed out the door.

"WAIT EDDIE."' you said as he turned his head back into your view.

"Yes?'

"Do you have anything to wear I don't feel like sleeping in my jeans tonight." You asked, biting your bottom lip.

"Uh yeah let me check I'll be right back."

"THANK YOU!" You yell down the hall as he quickly jogs to his only to see Beth already in bed flipping through the channel on the tv.

"What did she want to know?" Beth asked as her eyes were still on the tv.

"She needs some clothes to sleep in so I'm checking your draw real quick." Eddie said as he opened the drawer tossing clothes out of her drawer not caring if he was making a mess.

"You gotta be fucken kidding me ,first she fights with our son then she stays the night and now you're letting her wear my clothes. Are you serious right now Edward?" She asked as Eddie van heard the venom in her words.

"For fucks sakes Elizabeth she didn't start shit with Wyatt he's just an ass and she can stay here as long as she wants, fuck she can maybe move in if she wanted for all I care, and lastly This is my house not yours." Eddie slamming the dresser drawer.

"And you know what she doesn't need your clothes I'll just let her use mine." Eddie stomped into his shared closet looking through his clothes looking for a big shirt since he didn't have pants to give you. He pulls out one of his old work flannels as he storms out of his bedroom knocking at the guest room you were in .

"Hey so funny story, Beth did want me to give you any of her clothes so I found an old flannel of mine because I did NOT have pants for you, so you can just button it up and pray to God that it will cover your body." He let out an awkward chuckle.

"Oh, no that's okay I'm perfectly fine with that.Thank you." You take the flannel out from Eddie's hands.

He felt the coldness of the tip of your finger on his palm as you grabbed the flannel from him.

Yeah okay that he needed to get out of there IMMEDIATELY.

"Well okay I'm gonna go lay down if you need anything I mean anything just knock on our door and let me know."

"Alrighty Eddie thank you goodnight." You tell him as you let a tired yawn out stretching out your arms.

"Good night sweetie." Eddie left and quickly ran into his room entering his bathroom not caring what Beth was complaining about now. He locked the door behind him quickly pulling out his phone as he pressed on his home security cameras.

Eddie didn't feel one bit of guilt as he slid down his pants to his ankles as he set his phone on the toilet top hovering his cock over the toilet bow as he watched you take off your top.

Eddie took his length into his own hands as he teased himself slowly starting at the tip of his leaking cock.he looks back at his phone as he sees you throwing your shirt on he bed,from the view he had he saw how your tits jiggle at every movement you made.he could see you reaching down to undo your pants he teases the tip as he smears his fluids all around his leaking tip as he grabs his ball with his other hand massaging them with his finger.He bites down on his lip trying to keep quiet as his wife is in the other room.you dropped your pants to floor bending down as he sees a perfect views of your round ass. Eddie strokes himself as he could ear the wet sounds of his hand meeting his cock .He closed his eyes for a second imagining your kneeling down in front of his while he strokes himself, he really wanted to cum in your mouth but also on your tits or wait! maybe on your ass or even better inside if you he wondered how tight you would be and if you would giggle while he slips his cock into your tight Young pussy. His thoughts got so wrapped up in his head he forgot that he was watching you. Eddie opens his eyes only to see that you are done and ready for bed as he sees you snuggling up with one of the pillows.

Fuck!

He had to go back to using his imagination as he jerks himself one last time letting out a low grunt as his hot white cum shoots into the toilet and all over his hand and balls. He rides out his orgasms slowly setting down his sensitive balls.he grabs some toilet paper to clean himself up , he hisses as he whips off his cum from his sensitive soft cock.

Did he just jerk off to his son's girlfriend and feel no guilt whatsoever?

Hell yes he did.

He was growing impatient all he needed was for Wyatt to fuck up so he he can move along to the next step. He is Lucky that Wyatt and you are here for a couple more days that will definitely be more time for things to unravel.

Eddie laid in his bed that night with his wife in his arms he thought about you and How pretty you were when he first saw pictures of you and How nice and sweet you were when he met you and how sexy you were when you were changing. He smiled at the thought of getting to taste you very soon.

you lay in the bed but you couldn't get the thought out of your head of Eddie watching you while you slept.

A smile creeped up on your face as you watched the red light blink from above your bed.

Oh if only he knew that you could see the bright blinking red button.

He was a pretty face with no brains.

You went to sleep with a uncomfortable aching feeling between your legs.

"Hey y/n sweetie it's time to wake up,I made you pancakes"Eddie looks down at the plate.",well kind of I burnt them so ego's it was." Eddie said, scratching the back of his neck. He looked at you and your sudden movement but you weren't waking up when he set the plate down on the dresser and he moved your hair out of your face. You looked Peaceful a little too peaceful, your skin was glowing in the early morning sunlight and your plumped lips squished together by the pillow in your cheek he giggled a bit on how your hair looks and the way it was sticking up, his thick fingers caress your cheek whispering for you to wake up. He heard you your little whines as you slowly stirred awake opening your eyes as you got a glimpse of Eddie, but your fist were too fast before you could stop yourself as you punched him in the face.

Eddie yelps In shock and in pain as he stumbles back.

"WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT FOR!?" Eddie asked as he viciously rubbed his cheek.

"OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD! I AM SO FUCKEN SORRY I DIDN'T MEAN THAT, YOU JUST SCARED ME AND MY BODY REACTED BEFORE I COULD I'M SO SO SORRY EDDIE." you say as you get out of the bed not even caring if you're wearing pants or not all you wanted to do was just help him.

"Well at least I know you can defend yourself." Eddie chuckled nervously as he saw you get out from the bed getting a glimpse of your naked legs.

"I am so sorry, come on, I'll help you downstairs." You grabbed Eddie's hand slowly but quickly walking him down the stairs.

"Hey I'm hurt, I'm not that old I can walk down the stairs perfectly fine." He didn't mind, actually he thought it was pretty cute for you to take care of him.

"Yeah I know but it would make me feel way much better." You sit Eddie down on the chair as you open up the freezer looking through it to find an ice pack or ice at this point.

"It's on the side door bottom shelf." Eddie said as you lookback thanking him.Eddie eyes roamed your body as he got a glimpse of your black cotton panties as you bent down.

Shit you might need to take care of something else for him too.

Quick it Munson, STOP BEING A PERV.

You grabbed a paper towel as you wrapped it around the ice pack not wanting to put it directly on his eye . Eddie hisses at the coldness pressing on to his pulsing red eye.

"Sorry." You say As you hold it there for a second. You couldn't help but notice as your eyes roamed his chest that he had more tattoos but you couldn't make out what they were.

"Hey, my eye is up here." Eddie told you as you let out a nervous giggle.

Eddie grabbed onto your hand that was holding the ice pack as he slowly moved it from his eye replacing your hand with his.

"Hey I got it from here how about you go upstairs and eat your breakfast and maybe" he looks you up and down."put some pants on please."

You look down at your bare legs as you back away from him.

"Yeah you're probably right thank you Eddie, and I'm very sorry."

"Hey, it's all right it was an accident." He told you as he put his hand on your shoulder.

You nod your head as you quickly walk out of the dining room almost tripping as you turned back around to ask Eddie something.

"Hey by the way is it okay if you can drop me off at the hotel once I'm done." You asked .

"If my eye is still attached, yes I don't mind." He joked looking up at your nervous face.

"Hey Im fucking around, I don't mind."

"Yeah I knew that , thank you Eddie." You ran up the stairs.

"NO PROBLEM SWEETIE!" he yelled.

"Hey you ready doll?" Eddie asked swinging his keys in his hands.

"yup I'm coming." You walked down the stairs In your outfit you had on from yesterday.

Eddie opens the door letting you go out first as the gentleman he is .

You wait for Eddie to Lock the door so he can point to which car yall were taking, but instead he goes to the garage putting the code in the pad.

The garage door opens up as Eddie passes you a helmet.

"what's this for." You looked confused

"we, sweetie are taking my bike instead, it is way to hot out here." Eddie drags out his huge two seater motorcycle.

"holy shit is that a BMW R1250 RT !" You asked really as you put the helmet on your head.

Eddie looked back at you with a smirked on his face,he likes how intrigued you were .

"Yeah! how did you know." He was shocked to know you knew about bikes not that it was a bad thing it's just that beth and Wyatt would get annoyed when he would bring up his bike in conversations he thought it was pretty cool if you to know he felt his cheeks heat up looking at you as your eyes roamed his bike.

"It been a dream of mine to get one but Wyatt said it was too dangerous for me." You happily put on the helmet as you do a little dance of excitement.

God could you get any more fucken hotter.

"HA, well look at that beth said the same thing , I haven't took this baby out in while cause of her." Eddie drags his bike out into the street puts on his helmet, Eddie throws his leg over his bike as he starts up the engine hearing the loud sound roar of the Motorcycle.

You get all excited as Eddie lends his hand out telling you to get on.

"Hold on tight babe, don't want you pretty self getting hurt." Eddie said over the loud noises of the bike.

You wrapped your arms around Eddie feeling how big and stiff his torso really was you swear you could feel abs under his jacket. As Eddie takes off you lean your head onto his shoulder feeling the hard wind breeze on your neck.

Eddie could stop his smiling under his helmet as he could hear you humming and giggling . He could feel your arms tighten around him as your hands dangled above his croch.

It is the wrong time for him to be getting hard.

Eddie let his thoughts flow as he try's to get him mind off of his uncomfortable bulge.

He can hear your little gigglea of excitement from behind him. He thought it was so adorable on how you were reacting.

How can Wyatt be so cruel to someone so innocent and sweet?

You arrive at the hotel. Eddie parks his bike taking off his helmet. His hair looked funny as it stuck to his tatted neck . You could help but giggle as you see Eddie putting his hair up into a bun.Eddie turns around sticking his tounge out at you as you shook your head.

You and eddie turn your heads when you hear one of the hotel room doors open and a blonde tall woman walks out while she pulls down her red skimpy dress but right behind her is Wyatt as he grabs her by the back if her neck smashing his lips into hers

Your smile drops as you stare up at the scene in front of you.

You couldn't believe it.

Before Wyatt can look down at you and eddie, Eddie turns his body to make sure Wyatt can't see you

"Sweetheart, look at me please." Eddie asked as he could hear the small cry coming from your whining lips .

"Can you just please take me somewhere else?" You asked not looking up at him as you play with the end of your shirt.

Eddie kisses your head starting up his bike as he makes eye contact with his son.

He smirks up at Wyatt taking off to the closest diner.

The waitress sits you and Eddie at a booth. Eddie puts his big hand over you hand caressing your knuckles between his fingers.

He sees you as you start to cry he quickly gets up from his side scooting into your side as he takes your body into his arms.

"Shh it's okay baby I got you, let it out pretty girl." He says as he rubs your arms and back kissing your forehead your head he tries to comfort you as much as he can but he's not very good at that.

"I'm so mad at him ,I trusted him, why would he do that to me." You say as you can feel your hot tears running down your cheek Eddie wipes them away with his thumb looking at you with all the sadness in his big brown eyes.

Eddie didn't like it but either. Yeah he wanted his own son to fuck up . but that's because he wanted him to show you how he really was and that he wasn't faithful and he never loved you from the start .

Wyatt was Just like his mom when he found out that beth was still sleeping with Steve her ex-boyfriend not just any guy named Steve but Steve Harrington the guy that he thought was his friend.

But for all he cares Steve can keep her he just hopes that Nancy know About her husbands and Beth's little affair they have going on Steve owns Nancy at least that.

But besides that he wasn't going to stick around and watch poor little you get your feelings hurt or watch him get fucked over by the same woman.

"Y/n?

"Yes Eddie?"

"Would you like to take up an offer ?"

Taglist: @userlaiss7 @ali-r3n @eddiemunson95 @names-were-taken @taylorswiftspeaknow @peachy-bunnns @jackchampionsbbg @hellfirefiend @eddiesguitarskills @alyisdead @nope-thanks

The @ that are Crossed out did not let me add you I'm very sorry about that.

#eddie x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie stranger things #eddie munson smut #eddie x fem!reader #older!eddie #older eddie munson #old!eddie #dilf eddie munson #eyes for the geezer

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aesthetic-bbyg · 20 days ago

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OMG I’m so excited! ok ok how about a Lightner x fem reader smut, he takes her from the shop (like he did Cleo but the reader is Cleo in this situation) and she can’t help but talk back and sass him and he finds good use of her filthy mouth (🤤) rough and cussing!! choking? (Srry I’m crazy)

FLITHY DESIRES

lightner x fem!reader

reader is of age , i kinda see her as a friend of the Pogues who sticks around to support them as they are younger , maybe like around rafe’s age (21 or so) , I do love a good age gap , he calls her sweetheart 🤭 , lower case intended, SMUT !

I’m gonna be so fr, I only partially follow the ask🫣 i sorta had my own thing envisioned and rolled w that instead. so sorry!! but it’s smutty and it’s at least something!

“NO, NO, STAY HERE. I’LL DEAL WITH THAT.” you happily offered, resting a hand on cleo’s shoulder. the girl paused her movements, looking up at you with hesitation.

“are ya sure? it’s my job, i can do it.” always the hard working woman that took responsibility cleo was, not even blinking at the offer to make her life a little easier.

taking a look at pope’s sleeping figure next to her you only smiled, gently pushing her back down into the hammock. “stay. i’ll deal with the fish, you just get some sleep.”

cleo let out a mixture of a defeated and tired sigh as she cuddled further into the comfortable bundle of fabric. “okay, then. just let me know if you need any help.” you nodded reassuringly, turning away to head down the dock before your wrist was suddenly caught. “oh! and my peppers move ‘em, or else they’ll dry up.”

you chuckled lightly, nodding in understanding. “move your peppers and feed the bait fish, easy.” you gently pulled away, watching as she sunk into pope’s side and fluttered her heavy eyelids shut. your footsteps were quiet when moving through the dry grass of john b’s yard and eventually to the crooked wooden boards of the dock. nothing but the sound of water and crickets filling the air, peace, such a foreign thing for the pogues.

reaching the small shop, you maneuvered your way through the dark, hands stretched out to assure that you didn’t bump into anything. looking down at the small tank of water you caught a small glimpse of the bait fish swimming around. you smiled gently, moving behind the counter to retrieve a plastic container of cheap fish food.

you were utterly oblivious to the very faint sounds of footsteps approaching, or the sudden arrival of a stranger as they lurked in dark. you even hummed, happily giving the hungry fish their food before closing up the container and putting it back in it’s place. it was then that you could no longer deny the presence of someone else as the man suddenly grabbed you.

his arm tightly wrapped around the entirety of your upper body, immobilizing you from even attempting to get away whilst his other hand clasped across your mouth, muting any noise. you fought as much as you could, thrashing and fighting against his strong grip. it didn’t realize exactly what you were doing until he let out a low groan into your ear.

“stop that.” his voice was deep and rough, enough that it sent shivers down your spine. you movements faltered slightly, in the midst of your weak attempts to escape his grip you been grinding your ass directly onto his dick. as immoral as it was, it was his only sign of weakness and you’d rather hump against him then potentially risk your life. so, you continued, even arching slightly so your movements were full of purpose. whatever his name was, he didn’t like it. suddenly he was pushing you forward and bending you over one of the counters. “i told you to quit it.”

“fuck off.” your muffled words attempted to snap, but it was no use against his large hand that kept it’s place. you shifted ever the slightest, the best you could in such a position. there came a point where you had hit a specific spot, letting out a moan before you could even stop yourself. your movements froze, eyes widening as your face went warm.

he chuckled from behind you, leaning down to breath real close to your ear. “now you’re just doin’ it on purpose, aren’t ya sweetheart?” you let out a pathetic squeak, still not moving. somehow, it was deemed a good enough answer for him. the man moved, his hips thrust forward, resting the waters almost. you tried your best to hold back any noise, only a heavy breath escaping your nose. “i bet you want this, don’t you?” another thrust of his hips, much stronger this time, and forceful. you let out another small moan, pressing your forehead into the hidden countertop in utter embarrassment.

what the hell were you doing? this was beyond wrong, you were disgusted in yourself for being in such a position but realized, you’d stopped fighting. now it was just your body making it’s own mind up. fuck, with the stress of dealing with six reckless teenagers had distracted you from your own personal life. were you really his desperate.

“if i remove my hand, will you scream?” he suddenly asked, hot breath hitting the shell of your ear. a chance to call for help, to get you out of the irreversible mistake you’re gonna make, all of that handed to you on a silver plater and you only had to nod. the man’s hand slowly slid off your lips. a slither of light at the end of the tunnel, one you could sprint to until you reached it. and yet, as the light touched your fingertips, you didn’t let out a single noise. not a yelp, not even daring to breath too loudly. he was rummaging through the pockets of his cargo pants, keeping a bruising grip on your hands.

taking the moment of silence you mentally processed what had occurred in a span of five minutes. you had only caught a glimpse of this guy before you were all over him like a animal in heat. keep your friends close and your enemies closer, right? from the foggy blur, he didn’t seem too bad. you subtly began to move your head, peeking over your shoulder to look at him.

fuck. he was hot. it gave you a strange sense of relief, he may have been a evil asshole who hurt your friends but at least he was hot.

the rip of duct tape snapped you out of the daze. it nearly made you want to take that chance, but by then it was too late. cheek to cheek, the material was stuck to your face, muting you once more. “how you feelin, sweetheart?” he asked almost mockingly, chuckling at the sound of your muffled replied. “perfect.” layers of the tape bounded your wrist together, allowing the man’s hands to be free to wander. “look at ya.” he muttered, running a rough hand down your back still it reached the rounded skin of your ass. he paused, squeezing the flesh gently before slapping it with force. if there was a slight sting through the denim of your shorts, you’d don’t even want to imagine what it feel bare. you gently squeezed your eyes, subconsciously moving backward so you could get back that bit of friction that was enough of wind you up. he caught your hips, squeezing them with another huff of a laugh. “easy there, sweet. i’ll getcha what you want.”

you whined, letting out a huff through your nostrils. if you were going to commit such an act of treason, it might as well be as quick as possible. it didn’t want this movement to drag on too long. you felt a hand reached around, unbuttoning and unzipping you shorts, then he hooked his fingers onto the waistband and slide them down slowly. once the denim looked at your ankles you heard him unbuckle his belt. strangely, of all the moments that led up to this moment, that small noise of the metal clanking excited you the most. he waisted no time on himself, removing the tight pants in seconds, clearly you weren’t the only one feeling excited.

he pressed his hard cock that was still in the restrains of his boxers to your clothed pussy, like he was warning you. he groaned gently, playing with your (luckily) pretty panties to tease you before he did anything. then he reached around to rub your clit, making soft circles that definitely were felt but didn’t satisfy. you needed more. and that’s what you tried to communicate as you shifted around and whined into the tape. he only pressed harder and faster circles, forcing out a moan from you. you pushed further, rubbing your ass to his hard-on.

“i hear ya, sweet thing.” he mumbled, pulling his hand away, leaving a disappointed emptiness in your stomach. “I’ll give ya what you want, but no screamin’ that you can’t take it.”

there was the a couple of indistinguishable sounds from behind you as you awaited for him. then, he slid your panties to the side, running his tip through the wet folds. you gasped as much as you could with the tape covering your mouth, relaxing into the counter—which by now, it’s uncomfortableness was just a blur in your mind. he tapped his cock teasingly before he was shifting to line up with your hole. you would’ve given him all credit of being a potentially good man despite the things he’d done with the way he slowly eased into you. inch by inch of his thick cock into your cunt, a delicious stretch that made you clench your eyes shut. that was until he pulled all the way out and slammed back in, any thoughts of him being gentle with you being thrown out the window.

“fuck, you’re tight little thing aren’t ya?” he cooed, contradicting his harsh thrust from moments before. he repeated the motion of pulling out slowly, then pushing himself back in with a brutal force. he didn’t pause like the last time though, he gained his pace, a fast one. you couldn’t think straight with the way he was snapping his hips, the slap of skin on skin meeting your ears. the guilt that once overflowed inside you began to drain as you found something much more desirable to fill you up.

the thought about how shitty this was is definitely still there, but now it was nothing more than a nagging thought you’d rather not let get in the way of your orgasm. as much you disliked being so tied up, the tape quieted your uncontrollable moans that definitely could’ve been heard from a mile away if it wasn’t there. you wanted to grip something, something to bound you to reality as the pleasure felt far too fictional. but you only could dig your nails into your palms, heavily breathing through your nostrils as the noises continued to spill out.

“fuck.” groaned the mysterious man, grip tightening around your hips. you’re going to be full bruises that are going to be hard to explain. “such a good girl.”

that’ll do it.

you let out a noise that came from deep in your throat, not being able to resist. he was pounding into you harder if that was even possible, hitting a spot that was taken your vision and made it white. as if it couldn’t get any better, his rough hand you had grown to love went back to rubbing those circles on your clit. this they were more than satisfactory. they had you seeing stars. at the feeling of you clenching around him he let out another groan, thrust slowing but never stopping. he tip was still grazing the spongy spot deep inside you, each time it grew more and more sensitive as you neared your climax.

you couldn’t even stay still anymore, your legs barely held you up as you quivered with the feeling of you teetering on the edge before eventually falling. you chest heaved into the counter, not even realizing you’d started sobbing with pleasure until a tear ran down your cheek. the man had pulled out just seconds after you came, stroking himself until he spurted out ropes of cum onto your asscheek. the slight dining in your ear had disappeared, you could hear him catching his heavy breaths, adjusting himself back into his pants.

you contemplated what to do. not exactly planning out the aftermath. luckily, you didn’t need to think much before he was reaching down to pull your up shorts. a gentlemen, despite absolutely ruining you just earlier. he tugged you up, forcing your to stand up straight before h turned you around to look at him. for the first time you were directly staring up at those hard eyes, and if wanted to intimidate you he’d only needed to stare the way he was doing now. your face grew warm, embarrassment seeping into your skin.

you winced as he ripped off the duck tape, tossing it to the side without ever taking his eyes off you. you didn’t flinch as he hand lifted to slid along your jaw before it eventually tangled itself in your hair. you made a noise of surprise as he tightly gripped your hair at the roots, pushing your head closer until his lips met yours. he kissed with such force and power that it reminded you of his thrust. it was just the way he was. strong. you did your best to melt into the kiss, attempting to give back that same passion but could hardly compete against him. he pulled back, trialing his kisses down to your jaw, then your neck, until he went back up to grazed over your ear.

“don’t think i’ll stop coming after you because of this.” he threatened sharply, “you’re not safe and neither are your friends.” with that he let go of his tight grip, whipping out a pocket knife to slice the tape on your wrist and then he was gone. his boots heavy against the wood as he marched back into his boat, not uttering another word.

you could only stare, watch as his boat disappeared into the waters. you felt dizzy, like all of this was a dream you would wake up from. you ripped off the rest of the tape from your wrist, tossing it in a nearby trash before rushing to do the whole with the peppers that cleo requested. you couldn’t stop thinking about the situation, each detail replaying in your head as you left the shop and began down the dock, back to the house.

cleo and pope were still resting peacefully in the hammock, another thing that tripped you out. they just casually slept here while you were getting fucked inside the shop? you rubbed your tired eyes, trudging through the yard and into the home. walking into your room you let out a sigh, not knowing what to do with yourself. the best thing was to get cleaned up, change clothes and go to sleep.

but even then, he haunted you in your dreams.

THIS WAS NOT SPELL CHECKED! apologies for any mistakes.

#lightner outerbanks #outerbanks season 4 #outerbanks fic #outerbanks netflix #OBX #obx 4 #Lightner #Lightner x reader #JJ Maybank #john b routledge #John B #pope heyward #kiara carrera #sarah cameron #rafe cameron #outerbanks

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ilovefoodandslasherswithmasks · 1 month ago

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Brahms Heelshire x reader who is just kinda weird, like collects bones and shit. Also hates people (aside from Brahms who they absolutely adore)

OH MY GOD, okay yes totally. Idk if should write this going into spicey in the end or if you want it normal and more fluffy?? Just reply again I'll make sure to do it 🦦

(Also my first request my god I'll remember this 4 ever fr) so I'm doing it again. Let's hope it's not gonna delete 🏃‍♀️. (Update, IT WORKS SO HERE YALL GO, and here you go love since you asked for it ♡)

I'll be death itself for you.

After driving 7 hours with a heavy ass trailer behind you. You finally arrived at the Mansion you bought. In an online auction..which well is a bit questionable, thr house was cheap for its size. Condition was well not the best but it still cost a lot less than it would've. So after buying it and getting up and about, you're more than relieved when the house turned out to be real. Made of bricks, windows and doors.

"Gosh look at this place.." you exit your packed car and hold the old keys in your right.

"Yes yes I'm coming Luc" Lucifer, you're calico cat, busy scratching on the window. Surely couldn't wait to get out of the car after being stuck in it for hours with you.

Opening the door you take her leash.

"Impatient much?" Slowly making it up the stairs letting Luci smell what she felt necessary. You finally got to the door and she sat by your foot waiting. Unlocking it was a but hard, the lock seemed a bit rusty by now and when the lock finally clicked, you tried to open the door. And my god those doors! They didn't have such a huge size for nothing, they were heavier than expected. So using your whole body weight it finally budged just enough for you two to slip in.

"Pray the electricity works.." trying the first light switch, nothing, the second nothing, the third a quick flicker and then a burst light bulb. "Great" you mumble and finally decide that's a problem for the evening. Walking through the hallway and expecting the rooms with Luci was more than disappointing. Everything was dusty, one room had broken furniture, a sloppily fixed wall (hehehe) and a dead mouse in a trap in the backroom of the kitchen. A life one right next to it stuck in a saver trap. You made a mental note to go out to the woods and let the mouse go.

"Okay" you think before you pick Luci up.

"You're to slow girl, the rooms upstairs are not gonna be around all day."

Walking back into the hallway and then up the stairs, passing open doors and not finding any particularly interesting. The child's room looked so sad..and cold...almost creepy but it also filled you with the want to rebuild it as best as you can. Just because..

You settled for the last room at the end of the hall, it has a bathroom too ans the bed was amazing, so was the dresser and closet. They fit perfectly for you. You let Luci down and she imidiatly found it necessary to leave the room. And just explore again. You were fine with it thou, Luci always made sure to let you know when something was up.

"Mh...maybe I should start by cleaning...everything is old and messy..bed first"

Going to grab the old mattress and covers you imidiatly regret it. The huge cloud of dust hitting you in the face. And not just dust, it smelled horrible. You actually almost gagged while sneezing.

"Jeez need a mask huh?" After grabing a mask and some gloves, just to be sure, you finally get to work. The window were painted shut, so great, all the way downstairs and out the backdoor with the trash you go.

Hours later you finally manage to get the bedroom empty and clean, also the bathroom, which is very important ☝️.

You decided to bring up your own bed stuff mattress, pillows what not. The clothes you owned still stacked in boxes on the floor. You got yours and Luci's food...well after you decided you could carry 6 bags in one go, which cost you a stubbed little toe, a ripped open bag, and a bruised ankle.

So yeah no, one trip, was actually not enough.

You needed more than that but it's fine.

You groan as Luci just watches you gather up her spilled dry food. Luci was a diva, she wouldn't eat anything off the floor. Well this food was gonna end up in a bowl soon after anyways and she'd eat it perfectly fine.

"You hungry Luc?" Grabbing wet food you make sure she eats before heading back out and getting the box with your most precious items, your hammer and some nails.

You carry it all back up to your room and set it down on the little bench at the end of the bed. Looking at all the free wall space imagining which one would be best suited. The last wall on top of the dresser seemed perfect for your collection, you smile as you open up the box, carefully grabbing out the fragile skulls, the picture frames that held pinned bugs, two bats and the smaller bones that were inside a see through glass box. Luci liked to steal them, you'd never see them again.

Putting up all the picture frames and skulls, you were happy with it. Only small parts of the wall were still free which should keep you in check, but you couldn't wait to add more to your collection.

You loved to pin dead butterflies, moths and some spiders. You got some while on long walks, some you raised yourself. They were very important to you. The fact you could let them be in their full glory and beauty even in death was something you loved.

After finishing the wall, and the sun slowly set you decided you needed to find some damn candles. And lucky as you were, there was an entire cabinet full of them, one of the drawers was full of matches.

"Mh so busted light bulbs ain't new here huh?"

You leave the study with a huge box filled with candles and set them up. Putting a few on the tables and shelves that were safe enough to hold candles, and some in the hallway and up the stairs on those mirrored candle holders. Which were pretty rad to you. Watching as Luci scratched at a wall and smelled it, "what's up girl? Don't tell me we got rats or something in the walls?!" You gasp as you walk over to her, pressing your ear to the wall. Nothing, but a faint buzzing of the electricity...well the electricity didn't work but sure did?

"This should do.." finally done with most work you decided to eat dinner. Of course the kitchen didn't really help with that so a sandwich had to do.

Seated in the study room with Luci leaving from the small couch as soon as you arrived to go upstairs with her attitude and ready to use the bathroom.

You decided to just eat, you eyes flickering over the walls and shelves filled with books. Beautiful hard leather bound ones, some definitely seemed to have potential for a lot of money if sold well.

After picking up the one that sat on the small table next to the couch and looking through it you dropped it as you flinched. A loud crash could be heard from upstairs, Luci never broke things. Yes she was a drama queen but she never did.

When she came running down the stairs hurriedly hiding behind the couch you were seated on staring towards the stairs with growling and hissing. You get up carefully, "what's wrong baby?" you ask a bit shaken by now.

She never acted like this not for no reason at least.

Grabbing the pointy letter opener you slowly make you way to the stairs. Great, the too of them was dark, the entire hall was, hell the entire first floor was a creepy pit.

"Oh...mh okay..it's okay you're the only person in this house." Trying to sooth yourself with self talk didn't help as much as you'd hoped only the zippo in your pocket would grant you light up in that black hole.

Walking up the creaky stairs with your 'dagger' pointed and ready to be used, and you zippo lighting the steps extra with the candles that lined the wall. Swallowing hard you call in like a fool, "hello?". Like girl, be for real. You're a horror obsessed freak and don't follow the rules? Wow..

Down the hall you only see the light of your lighter, and your slight reflection in the window, "shit...I'm gonna die and become cat food aren't I?", you huff out before you start walking.

"I'M ARMED AND I'M SCARED TO USE IT!", you yell out. Again, like an idiot. You walk past all the rooms to yours and nothing. Not a person, not a broken piece of whatever broke, nothing...or...wait..

"That's not mine...." you say staring at the stuffed owl and crow that now sat on your dresser, decorating the room just as nicely as your wall.

"Okay ahahah what?!" Feeling a buzz off fright thunder through you when you hear a loud thud in the hallway. Just around the corner of your doorway.

"Mhh great.....hello?? Ghost??" you ask into the silence nothing, so the only valid thing to do was jump into the hallway with a war scream (squeal) Just to find a porcelain doll sitting up against the wall next to you.

"Who are you you little freak?" you knew who this doll was. Brahms Heelshires replacement, you knew reading up about this suspiciously cheap mansion was a good idea. You expected this place had held many deaths but well...this one the last generations of Heelshires passing was probably the saddest of them all.

The poor boy who passed away, so horribly, burned, and the parents who ended up going with a different element, drowning. You huff as you brush your hair out of your eyes (yes you got hair or a wig idc).

Crouching down next to the doll, "hi..um I hope you don't mind my intrusion, but well I own this house now..so maybe we should co-exists..or I'd have to sage your ass...which I don't wanna do you're a kid after all" you say, mostly talking to yourself like a dork.

"I don't know how you managed to bring me those stuffed animals, but uhm..thanks? They're nice? I suppose...or um a warning I suppose.."

Basically jumping out of your shoes when all the lights on the floor suddenly turned on and probably the ones downstairs as well.

"SHIT!.. gosh....pff um..Thank you?"

The rest of the night was rather pleasant, a few thuds here and there and a few of Luci's hissing at the wall and sleep seemed so easy to get.

Little did you know. This house came with more secrets than ghost's and haunted objects.

#brahms heelsire x reader #brahms heelshire x y/n #brahms heelshire x femreader #slasher fanfiction #fanfic #the boy

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theitgirlnetwork · 1 year ago

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Chapter 8: Future Stuff

Note: Hellooo! Thank you all once again so much for all of the love I'm getting on this story. Everyone is so sweet I could actually throw up so thank you. I hope you all enjoy this chapter. All of the reblogs, notes, comments, messages really motivate me, and I'm so thankful. It's so fun writing this. The only warnings are implied sexual content and strong language but MDNI fr fr. This story is not for the children. Alsooo, I think I figured out the tag list situation, feel free to correct me if I'm wrong. So its down below, anyone else who would like to be added, please let me know <3

Taglist:

@th3h0nkz @yezzyyae@comeonatmebruh

Ian and Mickey stare forward at the TV as Lip continues to bounce his leg and blow a cloud of smoke into the air. Mickey irritably fans the air in front of him, cutting his eyes to Ian who silently pleads to him not to say anything. A few more seconds pass and the cheap couch continues to rattle and Mickey gets fed up.

“Fuck! Gallagher, go, don’t go, cheat, don’t cheat, we don’t fuckin’ care!” He yells, ignoring Ian’s glare. “I mean, I’ll fuckin’ tell the princess in a heartbeat, but you sittin’ hear, shittin’ your pants over a phone call is makin’ me wanna kill you.”

“Fuck off Mickey.”

Mickey turns to the blond, only to have his boyfriend place his hand on his chest, shoving him lightly into the other direction, gesturing for him to go upstairs. Ian huffs as Mickey flicks him off before storming up the steps to his room, taking his beer with him.

The redhead sits back down next to his brother, sighing as he opens his own drink. “Are you gonna?”

Lip looks up, hand buried in his hair for probably the fiftieth time that night. “Gonna what?”

“Cheat. On Charlotte with that old bitch Helene.”

Lip shakes his head quietly, taking a drag from his blunt before passing it over to Ian. “No.” he sniffs. “And uh, Helene didn’t get me kicked out, alright?”

“Okay.” Ian shrugs, grabbing the blunt. “But she didn’t help.”

“Nah.” Lip nods, blue eyes surrounded by red, bloodshot from the lack of sleep he got over the past few days. “She didn’t. But uh, she didn’t say much on the phone. Just that she needs to talk to me. Figured I should see what it’s about. Not a big deal.”

“Is that why you’re pullin’ your hair out and hotboxin’ our living room?” Ian asks, releasing the smoke from his nose. “Did you tell her?”

“No.” Lip sighs, scrubbing his hand down his face. He reaches over and snatches the blunt from Ian before he could take another pull. “And you won’t either, alright? It’s not a big deal and I’m just gonna tell her to fuck off. Don’t need to freak Bunny out for nothin’.”

Lip had been lamenting over Helene’s call for the past few days.He’d gone silent on the phone in shock when she confirmed it was her and was even more surprised when she asked to meet with him to discuss something. The last time he’d talked to her, she’d ended things and ignored him while he screamed and pleaded for her back outside of her house. It was fucking humiliating. He wanted to show her he was better now. He wanted to show he wasn’t some desperate loser and he didn’t fucking need her, her leaving didn’t fucking faze him.

He knew he could do that and stay loyal to Charlotte.

But apparently Ian and Mickey had no faith in him. He didn’t know why he fucking told them in the first place.

Maybe because he’d hoped it would help get rid of the rock in his stomach he felt every time he spoke to Charlotte and didn’t tell her his sort’ve ex/professor had hit him up to meet.

Lip is used to the feeling of guilt and shame, it comes with the Gallagher territory. A low hum of those two feelings stay with them always. But this feeling was worse. It was loud and aggressive. It was pounding in his ears each time his girlfriend’s sweet voice came through the phone. So, he already felt like shit. He doesn’t need Ian and his cling-on fucking riding him.

“Doesn’t seem like it’s for nothin’ Seems like somethin’ she should know.” Ian shrugs, snatching it back.

“Yeah, just because you’re Mickey’s bitch, doesn’t mean I’m Charlotte’s. Alright? I’ve got it-”

“Fuck you.” Ian frowns, shoving his brother, looking affronted when he shoves him back.

The two boys begin pushing and shoving at each other, standing from the couch to get into each other’s faces. Voices raising and carrying throughout the house. The front door swings open and a tired Fiona storms through, Liam in her arms, shoving between the two of them. “Uh uh, I just worked for 8 hours with no break while tryin’ to watch Liam. I do not come home to you fighting.”

The older girl places Liam on the steps, patting his back and telling him to go upstairs and wait for her to tuck him in. She turns back to her other brothers, watching them glare at each other. “What the fuck is the issue?” Lip clenches his jaw irritably, looking away from his sister. He knows that Ian isn’t going to say anything and he does not feel like hearing Fiona bitch about Helene or make some smart ass comment about him already fucking up with Charlotte. “Fuck, fine, whatever. I don’t care what you have going on, Christmas is in two days, you’re not gonna fuck up the vibe in the house for Carl, Debbie and Liam. And make sure you have your shit together on the gift front.”

Ian pushes past Lip, knocking his shoulder and heading toward the stairs, “I’ve got my shit covered.”

Fiona watches him go up the stairs before looking back to Lip with an expectant expression. “And you?”

The blond huffs out a breath, “I’m handling it.”

And at the time, he really thought he was.

“It was really nice to see her.” Charlotte smiles, pouring water onto one of the plants on her parent’s patio before moving on to the next. The other side of the line is quiet and she pauses in her motion, pushing her phone closer to her ear. “Bub?”

“Huh?” there’s shuffling on the other end of the line for a few moments before the sound of her boyfriend returns. “That’s good, bunny.”

The woman rolls her eyes, setting down the watering can onto the table and pulling out a seat to sit in. “You’re not listening, Phillip.”

“Yeah I am.”

“Yeah? What’d I say.”

He hums for a moment before raising his voice lightly, attempting to mimic hers. “Phillip, I miss you so much, I can’t wait until I can see you again and climb on top of your big, hard-”

“Yeah, I don’t talk like that. That must be your other girlfriend.” She laughs. Charlotte waits to hear the deep chuckle that she’s grown to love and is only met with awkward silence. “Phillip?”

“Uh, yeah. I’ve actually got to go.”

“Oh.” Charlotte frowns, biting at her thumbnail nervously. She doesn’t like the sound of his voice. He’d been being weird for the last couple of days and she didn’t know where it was coming from. Was it because of that one phone call? Was it too much? Too little? Did she do something wrong? The reasonable side of her told her that the distance might be just getting to him. Their relationship had started with her leaving for an undetermined amount of time. They began with a goodbye, it definitely was wearing on her, it would be reasonable for it to be affecting Lip as well. “Okay, I’ll talk to you later? And um, please remember to get the presents I got for everyone out of my room at V’s okay? S’not much-”

“Okay, so uh, you’re definitely not gonna be back for Christmas?” he asks.

Charlotte sighs, leaning her chin on her hand and toying with the fabric of her shirt. “I dunno. M’sorry.”

“It’s fine. I’ll call you later. Bye, baby.”

As the line goes dead Charlotte groans to herself. As much as she’s enjoyed being home with her parents, she was starting to get antsy. Putting aside how badly she misses Lip, she misses everyone else and her freedom too. Being back in her parents home made her feel like a child again, unable to make decisions about anything. What time to wake up, what to eat, what to wear. She needs a break from her break.

And honestly, she wants the chance to take her new relationship seriously. And she can’t do that while they’re however any miles apart.

Settled into her new resolve, Charlotte pushes out of her seat and opens the screen door to her house. She looks around the lower level, finding that no one is there and heads up the stairs to look for her mother. She finds her mother in the office and knocks on the heavy wooden door before entering. “Hi, Mom.”

Charlotte’s mother looks up from her laptop, pausing to push her glasses up on her nose. “Hi, honey, what’s up?”

“Um,” Charlotte shifts on her feet uneasily, running a finger along the paint on the door frame. “I need to talk to you about something.”

Lip takes a deep breath as he stands outside of the café, pocketing his phone as he weighs out the different ways this scenario can play out in his head.

Best case scenario, he goes in there, Helene looks fuckin’ awful, he tells her where she can shove it and maybe throws in a picture of his new sexy ass girlfriend that he’s fucking obsessed with, conveniently leaving out that he’s unsure if she’s ever coming back to Chicago.

Worst case scenario, she looks amazing, he doesn’t even get to mention Charlotte and this was some kind of sick test that he failed by showing up. His girlfriend emerges from some back room or something and dumps him on the spot for even showing up to talk to his ex. And she…he doesn’t know, starts fucking Helene’s husband or something.

That last part can’t happen. Lip is pretty sure he’d kill him.

Another minute passes by before he decides to finally go into the shop. Quiet, boring cafe music is softly playing and the smell of coffee fills his nostrils.

“Lip, over here.” a voice calls over to him.

Lip follows the voice over to a table in the left corner of the restaurant and finds Helene, seated, already sipping a coffee, an untouched mug on the opposite side of the table. He makes his way over and slowly slides into the seat opposite of her. “Uh, hey.”

The older woman offers him a kind smile, drumming her fingers on her cup. Lip absently notices that her wedding ring is not on her finger. “Hi. How are you?”

He looks up, dragging his eyes away from her hand. “Fine, I uh, can’t complain. How have you been?”

“Overall I’ve been well.” Lip nods quietly at her response and starts scanning the room, looking everywhere but her. He hadn’t accounted for this being so weird. A couple beats pass before she speaks again. “Okay, well I think we’re a little too familiar for this to be so uncomfortable. That coffee is for you by the way. It’s black with no sugar the way you like it.”

“Actually,” Lip cuts in, glancing down at the cup. “I don’t take it like that anymore. I, uh, like it sweeter now.”

Helene’s eyebrows shoot up, “Oh. Okay, we could send it back-”

“Nah, I’ll drink it.” He shrugs, trying to hide his grimace as the bitter liquid fills his mouth, briefly wondering how he used to chug this shit when he was with her.

“Okay.” Helene shifts in her seat a little, leaning forward. “Tell me what else has changed since we last spoke.”

Lip licks his lips, looking around before letting his blue eyes land back on her. “I uh, left school, or they kicked me out for something…unrelated. So yeah, I’m working. Moved back to Southside.”

“Do you like what you do?”

“It helps pay bills. Nothing in my field but, it works.” he shrugs again. “Are you, uh back at the school?”

Helene smoothes her left hand over her hair, and his eyes drift back to her empty ring finger. “Yes, I’ve returned as an adjunct, but they’re keeping a close watch on me so you can understand that’s a little bit awkward. But um, I’ve been working through some things since the last time I spoke to you-”

“Right, that was a contingency for you to get your job back, right? The therapy?” Lip bites. He doesn’t know where the comment comes from but he shocks himself and Helene.

“Yes…it was. And I think I owe you an apology.” she says softly.

Lip sits up straighter in his seat. “Okay.”

“I’m sorry, I should have spoken to you, and allowed you to explain what happened. I requested for you to communicate and exhibit maturity throughout our relationship and didn’t extend the same respect to you.” Helene waits for Lip to react, to accept, say something, but all he offers her is another quiet nod. “I’ve learned I have a habit of having high expectations for what people should do for me and very low tolerance for error. It’s likely what caused this relationship to fail and certainly what ruined my marriage.”

The blond looks up at that, immediately alerted by the news she’d snuck into the conversation. She’s divorced. She’d gotten divorced. Despite the fact that he was refusing to acknowledge it, back when they were together he used to dream about it. The day she said fuck her husband and left him completely, chose him entirely. On darker days when he would watch her climb out of bed to go find her spouse, or see them kiss especially intimately in front of him, or she would leave to shower with him just after she and Lip had sex, he would think about how happy he’d be if the older man just disappeared. Went missing. Dropped dead, he didn’t fucking care.

But the knowledge now that Helene was single brought Lip no feeling at all. He’s shocked at how numb he is to the news. “I’m uh, sorry.” he offers awkwardly.

“I’ve made my peace with it. Now, I’m trying to make my peace with you.” she smiles, placing her hand on top of Lip’s across the table, smoothing her thumb on his knuckles.

“Oh, shit-” he jolts, taking his hand back and feeling himself turn red as the table rattles at his jerky movement. “I actually have a girlfriend. And we’re…monogamous.”

“Oh.” Helene sits back, seemingly startled by his very large reaction before adjusting herself. “I’m sorry, well congratulations. Who is it? That mousy girl who is fascinated with posting pictures of other people’s naked forms?”

Lip doesn’t bother offering her a fake laugh, instead choosing to open his phone and show her his favorite picture of him and Charlotte together. It’s one that Ian had taken at the Alibi when Lip had been pretending to teach her how to play pool to both get close to her and piss off Kev as the girl bent over the table in front of him. The picture perfectly captures Charlotte’s pretty smile and reminds him of when she was close enough to touch. He holds his phone up for Helene to see and watches the woman’s expression. “This is Charlotte.”

Her face is unmoving as she looks at the girl. “Well, I suppose it’s double congratulations. She’s gorgeous. Is she in school?”

“Um,” Lip takes the phone back and pockets it, “No, she just moved here. She’s working at a restaurant for now, saving up money. I’d have brought her with me but she’s visiting family back where she’s from.”

“And where’s that?”

“Virginia.”

Helene hums, lifting her coffee to take a sip. “That’s far.”

“772 miles.” Lip sniffs, leaning back in his chair. “But she’ll be back.” As he says it his brain wonders if he’s telling Helene or reminding himself.

“I see. And it’s serious?”

That question gives Lip pause. Because is it serious? He can acknowledge that when he first saw Charlotte he hadn’t hoped for much more than getting her prissy ass into bed and then doubling back once in a while, but not frequently enough for her to get attached. Her stubbornness and Mandy’s existence put a little wrench in his plans but he’d always liked a challenge. But after a while, it was more than that. He’d fucked around and learned things about her. Charlotte is sweet, kind, and funny. She makes him relax and feel less fucking irritated all of the time. She makes him feel needed without making him feel trapped. She cared about his interests, making him happy. His family. She’d made his life better in such a short period of time.

“To me.”

Helene nods, offering him a soft smile. “I can tell. It’s the look in your eyes. It’s different now. A good different.” she lets out a sigh and places her cup down again. “Well, I’m happy for you. Though I came here to tell you I miss you and apologize, I also wanted to make up for the part I played in your education ending early.”

“It was unrelated.”

“Well, I certainly didn’t help.” It’s good that she knows that, he thinks. “I want to offer you an internship, not with me, but with a research center I collaborate with. They were looking for someone with an interest and background in science and technology and I immediately thought of you.”

“You didn’t think of one of the hundreds of people majoring in that at the university?” Lip scoffs.

“I didn’t used to sleep with them.” she jokes, rolling her eyes when Lip appears unamused. “I’m kidding. I truly believe you’d be a good fit for this.”

“Look um, like I told Youens, I can’t really afford to work for free right now, I understand you guys say it’ll lead to something-”

“It’s a paid internship, Lip.” Helene cuts in. She observes the young man, watching as the wheels turn in his brain as he tries to think up more excuses as to why he can’t accept this opportunity. She grabs her purse from where it is hanging on the back of her chair and pulls out a card, placing it down on the table. “Look, I have another meeting to get to, but this is a really good opportunity, if I were you I’d take it. Work in your field and make some decent money. Serious relationships aren’t as free as we’d like them to be, you know.” she says, nodding her head toward the pocket where he’d placed his phone. Helene stands, walking past, briefly placing her hand on Lip’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, you’d only have to see me around sometimes, we’d be in different departments.”

“I wasn’t worried about that.” He says, grabbing the card.

“Good. Give my regards to Charlotte will you?”

Lip sits quietly as the older woman leaves the cafe, attempting to process what just happened. He looks down at the card one more time before shoving it in his pocket and standing to leave himself, mumbling under his breath, “‘Give my regards’ to my fuckin’ girlfriend. Like hell I will.”

“Okay, Liam, open this one next.”

Lip stands with his arm around Fiona as they watch Debbie help Liam open her present with a bright smile on her face. It’s tradition in the Gallagher household. For the whole month of December, the older three kids hide all of their money that they earn, same as usual, and put it toward the rent and bills. They work extra shifts at their jobs so that Carl and Debbie don’t have to chip in for the month, that way they can get each other and Liam presents. The older three also use anything they have left over to get each younger kid an additional gift. Finally, being the two older siblings they are, sometimes Fiona and Lip scrape together a little something extra to try and get something for Ian. This year, Mickey was here.

At first Lip had found the male Milkovich’s damn near constant presence in their home irritating, but he made Ian happy, and more stable so he tolerated it. As more time went by, Mickey became part of their routine, helping out, hanging out, pitching in money, and then Lip didn’t mind him. But now, watching the fucking thug who’d threatened to bash both his and Ian’s faces in not long ago for one reason or another roll his eyes and pretend to be in different as he offers a messily wrapped army knife to Lip’s younger brother, blushing as Ian pulls him into a brief kiss, Lip thinks he might not hate having him around. Maybe even likes it.

“Who wants eggnog?” V calls as she carries the pitcher into the room, balancing a stack of empty cups in her other hand.

“Me!” Carl calls trying to snatch a cup, groaning when the woman pulls it away.

“Sorry, who’s grown and wants spiked eggnog?”

“Fuckin’ me.” Lip grunts, pouring a glass full and taking a long swig. He’d been in a shit mood all day. Watching his younger siblings open their gifts made him feel a little better, but he’d been hoping that Charlotte would be home by now. It’d been weeks since she’d left and he was starting (had been the whole fucking time) to worry that she wasn’t coming back. He couldn’t imagine that the short time they’d gotten together before she left was all he was gonna get. But then again, that was just his luck.

Fiona’s eyes land on V, a small smile on her face as she widens her eyes in silent communication. Her friend rolls her own in response, nodding exasperated, and nudges Kev. “Huh? Oh.” the man leans down and takes Liam from Debbie and lifts the boy’s bottom to his nose, sniffing his nose. “Um…Lip, man, I think Liam took a shit.”

The blond’s brows furrow as he takes another sip of eggnog. “So change him?”

“He’s uh, not my brother.”

“Oh, for christ sake,” Fiona snatches Liam back, smiling at the little boy’s giggle and shoving him into Lip’s arms. “Go change him will you?”

Lip narrows his eyes at his sister before sighing out a ‘whatever’ and taking the boy, blowing raspberries against Liam’s cheek as he makes his way to the steps.

As they get to Liam, Carl and Ian’s room Lip starts undoing Liam’s diaper, holding the clean one under his arm. “You having a good Christmas buddy? Huh? Is it fun? Should we play in the snow later?”

“Lip!” the boy claps, kicking his legs, antsy.

Lip frowns in confusion as he finds a completely empty and clean diaper as he looks down at his brother. “The hell? What’re they talkin’ about? I knew you didn’t stink to me. Maybe it’s Kev, huh?” he coos, buttoning his brother back up. “Maybe he’s the one who took the shit.”

The blond fumbles around in his pocket and pulls out his phone, figuring hearing his girlfriend’s voice might put him in a better mood. “Should we call Charlotte? We miss her, don’t we buddy.”

“Lottie!” Liam screams, kicking more, giggling loudly.

“Alright alright, keep your pants on, she’s my girlfriend, kid.” He jokes, dialing her number. The phone rings once before going to voicemail. “And I guess she’s busy. That’s okay, buddy, she’s probably just enjoying Christmas with her parents.” Lip reassures, unsure if it’s for Liam or himself. He grows even more irritated at the painful ache that forms in his chest at the thought that he won’t be hearing from her at all today. He’d called twice earlier too, only to be sent to voicemail twice.

Hoisting the little boy up, Lip jogs back down the stairs, bouncing his brother as he goes, slowing to a halt when he enters the room and everyone seems like they just rushed back to their seat. “Why the fuck are you all being so weird? And he didn’t shit.” He says placing his little brother into Carl’s arms and going to sit again.

“Wait!” Fiona calls out, fighting back a grin. “Don’t sit down, you have to get your present now.”

“The fuck? You got me a present? Why? We could’ve used that on one of the kids-” Guilt floods him as he thinks about the fact that he hadn’t gotten Fiona anything.

“Will you stop being such a prick and go get your present? We left it in the kitchen.” Ian interrupts, kicking at Lip’s leg. “Go.”

“What would you even get me-” Lip pauses as a thought crosses his mind. But no. No, that’s not it. It’s no fuckin’ way. He lets his eyes trail over to V who offers him a small shrug before nodding her head in the direction of the kitchen. “No fuckin’ way.”

Lip all but sprints into the kitchen, ignoring his family’s laughter when he trips a little over the leg of the coffee table and again on one of Liam’s singing toys as he swings into the room.

“Hi, boyfriend.”

And there she is. In the flesh. Bouncing excitedly on her feet once, twice before squealing and jumping into Lip’s arms, wrapping her legs around his waist. Lip catches her easily, wrapping his own arms around her waist and squeezing tightly as he buries his face in her neck, inhaling her scent. “Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me? Charlotte, what the fuck?”

“Merry Christmas.” she chirps, putting her legs down and pulling back slightly, Lip follows suit, holding his arms around her loosely but refusing to fully let go.

“Yeah it fuckin’ is.” he breathes, tugging her forward into a kiss. He feels like his eyes could fucking roll back in his head. It feels so good. Touching her. Feeling her touch him. Kissing her soft lips. When he finally lets her up for air he leans his forehead against hers, matching her smile with his own. “Merry Christmas, Bunny. Uh, thanks for coming back.”

“What?” the girl scoffs, reaching up and tugging the hair at the back of his head lightly, “Are you joking? I had to.” she leans forward, rubbing her nose against his. “You’re here.”

“Fuckin’ missed you, baby.” Lip connects their lips again, hand cupping her cheek to guide her into a deeper kiss as he walks them until her lower back hits the counter.

“Alright, lovebirds, enough of that, I only promised Fiona I’d give you two minutes, it’s been five and a quarter.” Kev calls from the other room.

Lip pulls back again, letting Charlotte walk ahead of him as he rests his hands on her shoulders following not far behind as they re-enter the room. He watches as she greets all of his siblings, hugging Debbie tightly and kissing Carl on the cheek. Tickling Liam and placing him on her lap as she leans into an embrace from Ian before Mickey reaches over and pinches her cheek.

She’s back. She’s actually back. Lip didn’t realize how little hope he’d had that she’d come back to him until she’d actually done it. She was here, in his living room, with his family. With him. And the room feels like it has oxygen in it again. He only lets the thought of how scary it is that he feels like he’s breathing for the first time in weeks pass through the front of his head for a moment, though it still rings pretty loudly as he pushes it to his subconscious.

Hours later the two older Gallagher siblings are cleaning up after the holiday mess. Charlotte had offered to help the younger kids to get ready for bed while Ian and Mickey went to spend some time with Mandy so she wasn’t by herself on Christmas. Kev and V returned home after being over all day, Charlotte promising to spend all day the next day with them, and them giving in with very minimal complaint when she and Lip asserted that they’d be spending the night together.

Fiona eyes her brother as she scrubs a dish clean, watching as he continuously looks over his shoulder up the stairs. “Just go. I’ve got it.”

“Huh?”

“Go be with her, I can handle clean up, if anything you’re slowing me down, checkin’ every two seconds to see if she’s comin’ down.” She laughs, wiping hair out of her face with her forearm.

Lip chuckles too, putting down the drying towel and squeezing his sister;s shoulder. “Thanks, Fi.”

“Yeah yeah, don’t be loud, I don’t need any of the littles gettin’ traumatized on Christmas.” She says, placing a clean plate on the rack. Fiona turns to catch her brother before he heads up the steps. “Hey, she’s a good one. And this…this looks good on you so…don’t Gallagher it up.”

Lip pauses, thinking back to the card in his jacket pocket and the call he’d made earlier that morning. “I won’t.”

Charlotte turns as the door to Lip’s room creaks open, a wide smile spreading across her face as her boyfriend enters the room. “Hi.” she whispers.

“Hey.” he repeats back softly, closing the door quietly so as to not stir his younger siblings. Lip glances down on the floor at the discarded clothes and mess, and tries to kick it aside as he makes his way over to where Charlotte is standing. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

“Neither can I, if it was up to my dad I would’ve never come back out here, but Mom took my side.” she meets him the rest of the way, wrapping her arms around his neck as he pulls her in by her waist. “Missed you. But, it was good to see them. Any updates here?”

Lip has to force himself to look away from her big, brown, expectant eyes. He absently thinks to himself that he’d forgotten how hard it is to be a piece of shit when she’s aiming her soft, affectionate looks at him, as if he was something good. But despite the fact that this surprise was literally all that he’d wished for, he hadn’t had time to prepare to tell Charlotte about Helene or the job. He could already picture the doubt that would form on her face as he told her that he’d be working in somewhat proximity to his professor that he’d fucked for several months, convinced himself he was in love with, and briefly attempted to stalk. He can’t even picture admitting to her he’d gone to get coffee with her.

But the alternative isn’t much better. Having Charlotte look up at him with that wide-eyed, starry look, rose petal lips smiling brightly at him. Showing him that fuckin’ dimple. And all of that being fake? Lying to her face? He couldn’t imagine being able to sleep, sure he can lie on the phone, but holding her afterward is a whole different ball game.

So Lip chose the only intelligent option.

Half stories and fuckin’ deny, deny, deny.

“I uh, got a new job, a paid internship. I’ll get to work in science which is cool.” he says dismissively, moving down to kiss her when she stops him.

“What?” she squeaks, smile spreading even wider. “Phillip! That’s so great! M’so happy for you, bubba!” she says bouncing where she stands and clapping her hands together. “We have to celebrate! We…we should go out some night this week. Like, get dinner or go to a bar or…” Charlotte pauses, the look on her face changing.

��Or…?”

The woman leans forward then, kissing Lip’s nose, cheek, and jaw before dragging her way to his neck. Lip groans, mumbling a ‘fuck’ under his breath as Charlotte presses open mouthed kisses down his neck, tugging aside the collar of his shirt as she moves to the top of his chest, rubbing her hands along his abs.

It feels good. So good, her soft hands pushing his shirt out of the way. Her lips dragging along his skin. He was immediately hard, clenching his jaw in focus as he watches his sweet girl drop to her knees in front of him, looking up at him through her long dark lashes as she began to pull his belt from its buckle.

Lip’s dreamed of this shit. Hell, he came to this thought for almost all of the nights she’d been gone.

But there’s this fucking nagging thought in his brain. Fucking telling him over and over how he doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve his beautiful, sexy, kind, loving girlfriend. He doesn’t deserve her using her money she saved from her job to take him to the fucking Chicago Sciene Institute Museum. He doesn’t deserve her begging her parents to let her come back to this shithole so they can give their relationship a real try. He doesn’t deserve the way she looks at him.

He damn sure does not deserve to have his dick that he used to put where the fuck ever in her mouth.

“Baby, baby, wait-fuck-” he hisses as her hand pauses as it wraps around him in his boxers. “Shit, um, I don’t think we should do this right now.”

Charlotte immediately retracts her hand from him, placing them both in her lap as she sits on the floor looking at him. “Oh. Okay, did I hurt you…or like…do something you didn’t like?”

“No, no you’re” Lip joins her on the ground, bringing her hands to his lips and kissing her palms repeatedly. “Perfect. You’re perfect. It’s me, I’m just…” he hesitates, wracking his brain for an excuse and also cursing himself for quite literally talking his way out of getting his dick wet. “Don’t wanna traumatize the kids on Christmas you know? Plus uh, we should probably wait for a time Carl isn’t home. Did you know he has a crush on you?”

Releasing a nervous breath Charlotte relaxes again, giggling. “Oh yeah, I kinda got that when I was walking up the street one day and he tried to get me to ride on the handlebars of his bike. He tried to push up on his tip toes and whisper ‘wait for me, baby girl’ in my ear.”

Lip chuckles, moving to sit on his butt slowly, silently willing his erection to go down and leaving his arms open for Charlotte to sit in his lap. “He’s a Gallagher, it comes with charm.” he pokes the dimple in her cheek, jolting her in his lap lightly when she snorts. “What you don’t think so?”

“Please, Ian and Liam are carrying the family name on their god damned backs.” she jokes, leaning her head back on his shoulder. “Mm and Fiona, she’s got game too. Pretty sexy.”

“Yeah? You think my sister’s hot, why don’t you go downstairs and sit on her lap, huh?”

Charlotte turns a little to look at him, raising an eyebrow. “You think she’ll let me?”

Lip’s mouth falls open for a moment before he lets out a breathy laugh of disbelief. “Fuckin’ brat, okay, up you go.” he grabs Charlotte at her middle, pushing off of the floor and putting her over his shoulder before dropping her softly on to the bed, climbing over her and pinning her to it. “Went to Virginia and lost your fuckin’ mind. It’s funny?” he says lowly at her giggles, leaning down closer to her face. “You know what’s funny, Bunny? I still have your Christmas gift.”

Brown eyes go wide and immediately Charlotte is giggling out apologies. “Wait, wait, stop, m’sorryyy.” she hiccups as she continues to laugh, Lip’s fingers tickling her sides. “I want my gift!”

“Ask your girlfriend.” Lip jokes.

“She’s busy-” she whimpers, yelping when he intensifies his fingers movements. “You’re my boyfriend! Sorry! Please!” she laughs, kicking her legs. “Pleaseee” she pouts up at him between unhinged squeals and laughter.

Lip stares down at the beautiful girl beneath him and can’t help put give her what she asks. Placing his hand loosely around her neck, he pulls her up to meet him halfway, pressing their lips together in a deep, brief kiss. “Need to remember who you belong to, brat.”

He grunts as he pushes off of the bed and goes to his larger dresser, easily pushing the heavy furniture slightly away from the wall and opening what looked to be a small door to a non-functioning vent. Charlotte sits up on the bed, brows furrowing as she watches her boyfriend pull a huge jar from the opening in the wall behind his dresser, miscellaneous pieces of money, change and what appeared to be checks at the bottom. The jar wasn’t very full, only making it to the first little ridge at the bottom of the jar. As he moves closer, a serious look on his face, Charlotte immediately begins shaking her head. “Phillip you better not be trying to give me money.”

Lip places the jar on the floor in front of her before taking a deep breath and sitting next to her on the bed. “No, I’m not. Or, not really. You remember how my family has the Squirrel Fund that we hide from Frank, so we can pay our bills and eat and shit.”

“Yeah,” Charlotte says softly, eyeing the jar. “I told you before I left that I think I should kick some money in if I’m gonna sleep over.”

“Yeah, over my dead fuckin’ body.” He dismisses. “This is…uh, shit this is embarrassing. I didn’t think about that part, it’s fuckin’ stupid.”

Charlotte watches as her beautiful boyfriend turns a pretty shade of pink as he stares at the floor. She slides her arm under his, intertwining their fingers and grinning when he brings his always intense blue eyes up to her face. “Go ahead, bub, I’m not laughing.”

“Shit, fuck it, okay.” he sighs. “This is the Bunny Bank.”

Charlotte’s mouth opens and closes again as she struggles to follow. “Bunny like me, Bunny?”

“Uh, yeah. I um, started to set aside money to put in this jar I fuckin’ found when you started talking to me again after that Mandy shit because, I dunno, you said we’d start hanging out and I started thinkin’ I wanted to take you to nice places. You deserve to go to nice places.”

“You,” Charlotte tilts her head to look at him better. “You started saving money to take me on dates when I was still friendzoning you?”

“Yeah?” Lip shrugs, laughing to himself softly. “I knew that I was gonna keep trying and I guess I wanted to be ready when it started working. But uh, you beat me to the first date thing, huh?” he says, smoothing his thumb over her cheek.

“You deserve to go to nice places too.” she says in a small voice, leaning into his hand.

“Well, I started putting more in there over time, and uh, you know, one day I’m gonna fill it. And we can use it on dates. Or get you a nice gift like I dunno, a purse or somethin. Or we could…” Lip looks at her intently, scanning her face. “We could save it. Put it toward, you know, future stuff.”

He damn near cringes as he waits for her to pull away. Lip fully expects for Charlotte to recoil away from him, for her to wake up the second he mentions the future and remember that she’s way too fucking good for him. Hell, he’s never even thought beyond fucking a girl for a couple months outside of Karen, and even then, what he felt was nothing like this. She was like a toxic friend that he was sexually attracted to. And even with her he didn’t plan. She was satisfied with a couple of free beers and a quick fuck in the bathroom at the school. Lip knows that shit isn’t good enough for Charlotte. And he’s learned in his time with her that he wouldn’t want her to settle for that.

He wants to be able to provide things for her, beyond a decent date once every couple of months. That’s why he started the pseudo bank and that’s why he has to lie to her so he can take this job. It’s for her.

But he knows this is fast. Just because he can see a future with her and his feelings hit him like a fucking truck doesn’t mean she feels this way. She has a nice home away from here. She’s accustomed to nice things and guys who don’t have to take a chunk of their check and save it up to give them to her months later. She should know that she can do better, laugh at his pathetic attempt at romance and walk away. Tell him she’s not some chick from the hood he can impress with a free popsicle, his quick wit and good looks.

Lip is fully prepared to backtrack what he said, saying that any mention he made of the future was a fucking joke and distracting her by eating her out or something. But he doesn’t get the chance.

He watches in awe as Charlotte reaches down her own shirt, digging in her own bra and producing what appeared to be two twenty dollar bills, folded up and warm from her skin. Manicured hands drop the money into the jar before the girl places her hand back in his, leaning in and pressing a kiss to his cheek. Charlotte nudges Lip’s arm with her own, and looks at him as if he fucking hung the moon and stars. “I like the last thing. Let’s save it. For future stuff.”

Lip doesn’t even get a chance to stop it. He doesn’t know if it's the confirmation that she sees a future with him too, now matter how long that is. Or maybe it’s the pretty way she’s staring up at him or him still reeling from the fact that she’s here. Or the fact that his pretty little prissy thing literally just produced forty dollars from her bra for them to save as a couple. Hell, he thinks it's probably all of it. But it comes out like fuckin word vomit.

“I love you.”

#oc #fiona gallagher #ian gallagher #kevin ball #lip gallagher #lip gallagher x oc #lip gallagher x reader #shameless #veronica fisher #gallagher #mickey milkovich #ian x mickey #charlotte fisher #phillip gallagher

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