#set this man up for an alcoholics anonymous meeting please

[xtoomanytimelinesx]

1. What’s the lie your character says most often? (Either Pota or 16!)

WEIRDLY SPECIFIC QUESTIONS | Accepting

Pota doesn't like lying a lot, although he may not be completely honest about his record with the authorities. He is pretty embarrassed that he has an extensive record, especially when most of it is related to his problems with alcohol. He will not be very forthcoming about that, or about the fact that he has a problem in the first place.

[cuteskunkz]

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One Night With You

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(Mike Schmidt x Reader)

Summary~ Mike is a very touch starved man. He spends all his nights at work and the daytime caring for Abby if not sleeping. He hadn't been with a girl since his junior year, making him feel like a total loser. The amount of times where Mike went back and forth with his inner thoughts, convincing himself that he was the problem was getting pretty intense and it was clear that he just needed a night out to clear his mind and prove those thoughts wrong.

You've been a "dancer" for the past few months at the downtown strip club, just trying to make ends meet. There was a tough competition working against you. You were new to this line of work whereas the other girls had been in the game for a while now, but you kept pushing on desperately. How else were you going to make rent or keep the lights on? The nights were slow and building a consistent flow of clientele proved itself to be a challenge, that is until one night when you meet a new guy outside of the nightclub.

Tags~ Stripper reader, Mike is a SIMP!!!, lowkey enemies to lovers but not really, no smut (YET...)

Note~ This took me much longer than I thought since I've been super burnt out of writing lately, but I hope you guys enjoy! As always if there's anything in particular you would like to see in chapter 2, please lemme know

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Mike felt confused with the lack of responsibilities and errands to run on this warm summer night. Abby was off at a sleepover and Steve finally hired a second night shift worker, leaving him all alone with his reoccurring self doubt introspections. Dude gets one night for himself and simply cannot think of a single thing to do to pass the time. He laid there in his bed tossing and turning unable to fall asleep. He jolts up feeling frustrated with himself, "Ughh... just fall asleep already bro..." He shifts around in his bed and grunts, "I can't do this-". He sits up and sulks his way into the living room, plopping down on the couch. Mike pulls out his phone and begins to scroll.

He isn't really the social media type but had made an anonymous instagram account a while ago for mindlessly scrolling. After what seemed like hours, Mike stumbles across a video of you. You were practicing a routine for the club, twirling and moving seductively. Mike felt himself grow larger in his pants and put the phone down in shock. He stares up at the ceiling in disbelief, damn you really got him feeling this type of way this quickly? He looks down at his lap and feels helpless. He wrestles with his feelings for a while and ultimately picks his phone back up to look more into you.

He clicks on your account and "researches" a bit. There's multiple videos of you practicing, photos of your skimpy outfits, and the most captivating selfies he's ever seen. One of your posts has a location tagged in the top corner, "Deja Vu Showgirls". He looks further into the club, finding that it's not too far from the pizzeria. "Fuck it. Why not..." he whispers to himself. Mike ensures he's well groomed for the occasion. if you're there he wants make a good impression. He showers, dresses in the best outfit he can come up with, and slaps some product in his hair. He finally felt content with his appearance and hopped in the car.

You weren't surprised to see another night play out typically. Maybe 2 or 3 cheap lap dances and a couple short sets up on the stage for less than 50 bucks. This clearly isn't working for you, at this point you've spent more on outfits and shoes than you've made while working here. An older gentleman walks up to you reeking of alcohol and cheap cologne, you couldn't help but gulp at the thought of providing your services for him. Yeah you were a stripper but you still had standards that made doing your job successfully hard at times.

"Well aren't you something?" he slurs while damn near tipping over from intoxication. You sigh and snap into your persona. "I'd hope so, this outfit ain't cheap y'know!" you reply in a flirtatious tone. You grab him by the hand and lead him to a booth, preparing for the worst. He starts groping on your sides which makes you shudder. Maybe this place isn't for you after all. "H-hands off baby.... Use your eyes and focus on me" you redirect with confidence. Times like these made you wish someone could just scoop you off your feet and save you.

He drives to the location with his heart pounding out of his chest. He'd never been to strip club before so Mike felt nervous even making his way closer to where you have the slightest chance of being at. He pulled into the parking lot and shut his car off abruptly, taking deep breaths to calm his nerves. "What if she isn't here? I don't even know the girl why am I acting so fuckin' weird about this.... I really need to get out of the house more" he thinks to himself while gripping onto the steering wheel. After a few mental pep talks to himself, he finally musters up the courage to get out and make his way in.

Just as he goes to push the door to the club open, you storm out with eyes welling with tears. Mike stumbles back a bit not wanting to startle you. You're holding your pricey Pleaser heels in hand, walking barefoot and trying your best to keep it together. All you want is to curl up into a ball and quit at life. You thought that creepy dude would cheap out on a dance, not grope and hurl insulting names at you for rejecting his advances! You look up from the ground and lock eyes with a man you've never seen before. He's cute... too cute to be wasting his time at some dingy place like this.

"Can I help you?" you snap at him with a shaky voice. It was hard not to notice the concerned look on his face. "No I'm-" he stutters before you promptly cut him off. "Leave me the fuck alone then." His face goes pale hearing you say this, he didn't even get a chance to meet you yet and he feels as if he already blew it. You pace towards your car and pop the trunk, filling it with the all the contents of your locker. You pick a T-shirt out of your duffle bag and drape it over your revealing outfit. His presence is burning a hole into your back so you swiftly turn around to meet his gaze.

He walks over slow and bashfully. There's a pink tint to his cheeks and he can't keep his hands still out of anxiousness. "Dude are you good?" you ask. He looks as if he's going to break a sweat, "Yeah... I'm good. Are you though? You looked pretty shaken up back there." You assumed he was just another guy looking to get lucky with a dancer after a shift change. "Look, if you want to get some action, walk your ass into the club. I'm not who you're looking for" you reply. His stomach drops hearing your voice. It was one thing to see you for the first time, but to hear your voice even if it be out of anger made Mikes head spin. He didn't want to sound like a complete creep stalking you out to your job for a closer look but you were exactly who he wanted.

"That's not why I'm here. Fuck- look... To be totally honest, I'm not a strip club type of dude. I just- I saw a video of you on instagram and I was- y'know... impressed by your talent and beauty." Typical response coming from a man trying to bring a stripper home for the night you think to yourself. "I'm not shocked by your reaction. You realize that's what I hear like- 10 times a night, right?" you say with a sarcastic tone. He seemed a bit more genuine with his words than the others but men will do and say anything when they're in need of a quick fuck. "Not that type of girl sir. Try one of those cheap hookers down the road" you point down the street and close the trunk.

"Please... I know how this sounds, believe me I know how dudes are but-" He sighs and continues, "But I don't have a lot of experience with girls so- I thought coming here... to meet someone new would help" he says looking very serious, almost to the point of desperation. If he weren't so damn handsome you'd turn him down in a heartbeat but something in you is screaming to give him a chance. He seems to be telling the truth and damn is he starting to fluster you with the whole innocent act. "Fine. I'll give you my number but don't you dare think about blowing my phone up." You scribble your phone number into his palm with a pen from your bag and blow him a kiss while getting in your car to drive away.

Mike smirks and waves at you, watching you drive off into the distance. "That was easier than I expected...huh..." he whispers. He gets back into his car and texts you, already so eager to see you again. The message reads:

Hey it's Mike, the guy from earlier. You doing anything tonight? I could take us out to a bar or something? :)

His cheeks start to blush again from imagining you two hanging out. He desperately craves a deeper connection with you but doesn't want to come off as too interested off the bat, it could scare you off for all he knows! His phone dings and he reads it:

Shitttt I'm free as long as you're gonna be on your very best behavior!!

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*Read part 2 and part 3 here!*

It might take me a bit to get part two posted, but I'll try to give you guys as many updates as possible!!! Keep in mind I am a new writer. This is my third fic put out so far :))

[milla-frenchy]

Fav Joel series

All of them are 18+ and nsfw

Please check for each fic all the warnings indicated by the author

Summaries are those written by the authors

Raider Joel @toxicanonymity

You think Joel is saving you from the bad guys, but he's claiming you for himself. You're his now, and he won't let you or his men forget it. How long until Stockholm syndrome sets in? Will his persona start to crack?

Slasher Joel @toxicanonymity

He's a tow truck driver and you're stranded. You're already DTF but end up fucking for your life when you offend him.

Night walks @toxicanonymity

Joel, an older neighbor you've been walking with late at night, asks you into his basement to sell him weed but not really. You can't stop fucking him after that.

Carnal @pascalsbby

You thought you had it all figured out before him. Animals. Tender, primal flesh. That’s what we are at the end of the day, no? Fucking, testing one another and then eating each other alive, heart first. Maybe the heart is the sweetest part of the body- or maybe it’s just the easiest to get to. You knew you wanted to be completely devoured by him. You wanted to fill the space between his teeth.

Dom!Joel @atticrissfinch

The wrong number that texts you ends up being a man much hotter than you’d ever expect…

⭐ Meet me in the back @atticrissfinch

When the gas station clerk refuses to sell you alcohol after a shitty day, you need to get creative

I know it when I see it @bageldaddy

It's the golden age of porn. sex and sin are the national pastime. Your career in adult films starts opposite a man who goes by the name texas.

I can be your pretty girl @walkintotheriveranddisappear

After your bodily insecurities stop you from exploring your sexuality, your dad's best friend offers to help you gain some confidence and help prepare you for experiences with men. as things progress with joel, you realize he's taking advantage of you, but that doesn't stop you from having a good time, too.

Online friends @walkintotheriveranddisappear

Hot single dilfs in your area want to chat, and you're more than willing to comply (anonymous sex chatting with joel)

Something wretched about this @covetyou

Your father has been medicating his long term illness for as long as you can remember, and he'd always been grateful to find medication suppliers even after the world went to shit. When he can't pay up, what lengths will you go to to protect your entire world?

Ravish @psychedelic-ink

Joel, only now starting to feel the impending sense of loneliness, decides to listen to Tommy and sign up on an online streaming service called Ravish.

Ghost of you @thetriumphantpanda

Grief is a strange thing. In the beginning it had been all-consuming. There wasn’t a moment of the day where you didn’t cry, didn’t ask yourself why it couldn’t have been you instead. And no-one ever explains the guilt you feel when it isn’t anymore. When it’s just a dull ache and you can finally breathe again, when you can start letting people get close to you again. People like Joel Miller. 

Trial & error @thetriumphantpanda

Tommy has always been the loyal and doting boyfriend, the literal man of your dreams. Ready to take things to the next step, you soon find that Tommy is unable to have children. A family is all you’ve ever wanted, and neither of you are going to let this get in your way. Enter Joel, dark and mysterious and willing to do anything for his little brother, including fucking his girlfriend to get her pregnant. That’s what brothers are for, right?

Come away with me @thetriumphantpanda

Four years have passed and you’ve managed to raise a beautiful baby boy into a sweet little boy. Four years of one night with Joel Miller and countless others with his brother. You’ve been trying for months now for your second baby and it’s proving much more difficult than first time around, so Joel has a plan. One week, alone, on the lake, with one goal - another baby.

A lover's pinch @hier--soir

A one-night stand with a charming texan turns into something much more thrilling when you discover he is your new college professor. joel miller is entirely off limits. but now that you’ve had a taste, will you be able to keep your hands to yourselves?

You summer dream @swiftispunk

Fresh on the heels of the worst breakup of your life, you find an unexpected kindred spirit in joel miller, who's agreed to tag along for seven days to a tropical resort with you and your parents.

Lost in the dark @iamasaddie

One time you decide to cheat on your boyfriend is, of course, the time his dad catches you. Once normal relationship turns into something new, and you are forced to face the fucked up reality of your life

Hard to be soft, tough to be tender @iamasaddie

Desperation was never a good advisor, and yours led to find yourself as a very special person among Joel Miller's birds. You'll have to see for yourself if you have what it takes to live up to the status, and in the meantime Joel will "train" you and take care of you. // Joel Miller is a pimp and you are at your all time low, that's it.

Feelings on fire @joelscruff

You're back from college for the summer, staying with your devout catholic parents in your childhood home while they order you around and try to keep authority over you. as an act of rebellion you ask your new neighbor mr. miller to teach you how to play guitar, but it turns out there's a lot more he wants to teach you.

With pleasured hands @magpiepills

You’re Tommy Miller’s girlfriend, you’re on vacation with him and Joel, Tommy likes it when you’ve got an audience, Joel prefers being an active participant

Bullet for you darlin' @kewwrites - Dead dove do not eat

Joel takes something a little more personal from you after you run out of things to trade

Sunshine @kewwrites - Dead dove do not eat

A look at the innocent relationship between Sunshine and Joel till one night something changes the course of their relationship forever. 'Loss and heartbreak often turn the best of us into our worst selves.'

⭐ latest series added (11/18/2023)

HUGE thank you to all the authors 🙏🙏🙏

Fics recs

[ajwinter-is-a-nerd]

Le Chat et le Serpent - Chapter 35

Please note that the entirety of this story is a ****TRIGGER WARNING***** - mentions of child abuse, graphic violence, alcohol use, mental health, suicide, suicidal ideation, self-harm - basically a constant blow of pain towards the characters - as well as some "steamier" moments.

Chapter Summary:

In looking back, I'd almost forgotten how neurotic I'd been over this chapter. It is a pivotal piece in Luka and Adrien's relationship, as well as a brief respite in the torture I dole upon them. A moment of serenity.

Chapter 35: Surreal States of Serenity

Surreal Estates Adrien lowered the box of books in his hands on the floor. To Adrien’s amusement, Luka barely paused after setting the box he carried up, speeding back through the elevator doors before they closed. 

Knowing that there was only one box left from the last items they shoved into the back of his Mini, he sat down against one of the few pieces of furniture that existed within the apartment. It was a plush leather that was installed onto the wall. While he waited for his selfless man to return, he paused to check his phone that had been singing at him since they left the emptied Agreste Manor. 

Marinette: Why weren’t you at work today? 

Marinette: Apparently you came and fled? 

Marinette: Do you need any help with your move in? 

Marinette: Sorry for the spam, am I annoying you? 

Nathalie: Thank you for getting the contracts in early, the meeting went well. When do you plan on coming back to the office? 

Nino: When do I get to see your place? No fair that Alya saw it first! 

Marie: An anonymous buyer is willing to buy the old manor for asking price! 

The elevator dinged, averting Adrien’s attention from the messages; they could wait, there was someone far more important requiring his time. 

Luka dramatically struggled with the last container of books. “You could help me, you know?” 

Adrien scampered to take it from him. “Oh don’t be such a baby!” 

“Me? I didn’t see a box in your hand!” Luka motioned to Adrien’s once again empty arms. 

“I knew there was only one left and you were already on your way down.” Adrien waved off Luka’s teasing. 

Luka had been so exhilarated to spend the day with Adrien in his new house that he had rushed through the emptying of Adrien’s car. He hadn’t allowed a moment to step into the main area of Adrien’s luxury loft.

“I like the place, smaller than I would have guessed.” Luka chided. 

So far, he had only stepped foot within the ‘staging area’. Granted, Luka could happily live within the square footage of this area alone. 

A warm chandelier lit the room as the elevator doors opened. To the left of the entrance was the black couch that Adrien sat upon; it ran from nearly the edge of the elevator and then wrapped along the left wall. To the right were coat racks that lead up to a guest bathroom, as if someone would be awaiting entry to the main entry for so long they would need to freshen up. Directly straight from the elevator was a large set of doors, which were a deep mahogany with a crimson red tint. On either side were closets in a slightly darker wooden shade. 

“I don’t know, I think it’s pretty cozy!” Adrien beamed as he pushed on a false light switch, between the right of the entry doors and the nearest closet, sending out a metallic pin pad. 

“When did you turn into James Bond?” Luka gawked at this hidden feature in amazement. 

The security within the house was outstanding. Being in the penthouse, Adrien’s elevator was hidden from the rest.  If you were a guest, you would need to go through the security at the front and then either get escorted from building staff or from Adrien’s code override. For Adrien, he uses his key fob to get into his own miniature parking lot, hosting the space for approximately ten vehicles. He then uses the elevator floor lights as a code (since the elevator does not stop anywhere besides his loft). When he needs guests to park, the required overrides are simpler to organise. 

“Agreste, Adrien Agreste.” Adrien mocked as he opened the grand doors. Though they appeared wooden, as you pushed them the hefting weight clued at the reinforced metal within them. 

Luka’s eyes boggled as he stepped into the loft. Two stories of windows basked light over the apartment. 

Adrien pranced forward, as if he was modelling the house. His steps reverberated through the loft, an echoing reminder of the emptiness of the house. Or, as Adrien saw it, a blank slate, devoid of furniture or memories that marred his mental state. 

Adrien’s excitement tunnelled Luka’s vision. Adrien was rolling onto the pads of his feet, bounding with an elated energy. Luka couldn’t help but consider how amazing of a decision this move was, Adrien floated with a sense of carefree that he had never been capable of demonstrating before. He was sparkling brighter than an Angel as he looked towards Luka for his reaction. 

“It’s pretty open, so what you see is what you get!” Adrien was exhilarated to take Luka around every nook and cranny of the house, but at this moment, he just wanted Luka. 

Scoffing at the comment that implied there was little to see, Luka restarted his scan once again. The first ‘room’ to his left was a kitchen. Even with the lofted bedroom above it, the ceiling was still vaulted. “Is that a real kitchen? Do you even know how to use it?” 

The mention of the kitchen ignited a bounding energy as Adrien scurried to the kitchen. “IT EVEN HAS A TOASTER!” 

Luka was slow to follow, swaying with each step, so that he could adequately watch Adrien’s giddiness as he vibrated around the kitchen. 

“Look Luka, it’s a gas range stove top. Marie said those are the best.” The stove squeaked as Adrien turned the knob. “Weird, I think it’s supposed to flame.” He inspected closer as he played with the knob. 

“STOP!” Luka broke his lazed walk into a sprint towards the stove top, switching off the gas. “How did you put ‘it’s supposed to be a flame’ and ‘let’s put my head right beside it’ together?” 

Adrien’s face scrunched. “But it’s not working, so it wouldn’t make a flame. Plus, it shouldn’t reach that high.” 

“Do you smell that?” Luka raised a brow to Adrien.

“It wasn’t me!” Adrien scoffed at Luka blaming his flatulence on him. 

Luka burst into a roar of laughter. “How are you going to manage, Prettyboy? That smell is gas. From the stove . Watch.” Luka pushed in the dial, and slightly pushed Adrien back, unsure of the amount of gas that would catch flame. The stove started clicking as Luka pushed in the knob. A great whoosh of fire emerged before settling to a lower burn. 

Adrien watched the pyrotechnics with wonder, stunned at the ferocity and height of the flame. “That was amazing.” 

“Do you need me to show you how to open the fridge too?” Luka neared him as he teased, his hair falling towards Adrien as he tilted his head to close their height gap. 

“My fridge has a whole screen on the door.” Adrien wrapped his arms around Luka’s neck. 

“Why?” Luka laughed at the sheer ridiculousness of the concept. 

“I can see into it without even opening it.” Adrien bared his teeth in a foolish excitement. “And it plays music!” 

Luka brushed Adrien’s hair out of his face so there was nothing blocking his gorgeous, beaming face. “This place looks good on you.” 

Adrien’s cheeks rosened under Luka’s adoring gaze. “As long as I don’t burn off my eyebrows, right?” 

Luka brought his lips to the aforementioned brows. “You could be bald and I would still stand by my comment. You look… happy .” 

Adrien’s chest warmed through the deep thuds of his heart. His nose nearly touched Luka’s before his next syllables cracked from his mouth. “I thought I fucked it up. I thought you were never coming back.” 

A morose slice of regret cut through Adrien, nearly pushing him away from Luka’s face. 

“I nearly didn’t.” Luka admitted, causing the boy’s grip on him to loosen. “But I’m really glad I did.” 

Luka reversed the distance Adrien had created by kissing the tip of his nose. 

An all too familiar lump formed in Adrien’s throat at the idea of life without Luka. His voice was hoarse as Luka’s lips trailed his temple. “I love you.” 

Luka held Adrien’s face within his hands, guaranteeing that Adrien would meet his stare. “I love you so much.”

Luka paused to save the twinkle of Adrien’s eyes deep within his memory before he lowered his face to brush along shuddering lips. 

The connection serged electricity through Adrien. His hold grew more eager as he tugged Luka in closer. To Adrien’s chagrin, Luka resisted. 

“Just one sec.” Luka turned to the stove, verifying that they had turned off the stove. Adrien nuzzled into his chest, arching his body to stay against Luka as he leaned to straighten each knob.  

Adrien’s lips moved against Luka’s neck once the last element had been checked. The last bit of trepidation evaporated from Luka as he melted under Adrien’s kiss. Each abrasion was more passionate than the last as he approached the edge of Luka’s mouth. 

“Adrien!” Plagg demanded as he played with the fridge. 

Adrien lowered his forehead to Luka’s shoulder, his heart was beating too heavily to adequately hold his head away. “Whaaaaat?” It was Adrien’s turn to whine like a child. 

Luka paid no attention to Plagg’s plight. He wasn’t certain why Plagg kept interfering, but nothing besides Adrien mattered in this moment. Guiding himself with the apex of his nose, he reached the uncovered part of Adrien’s neck, just below his ear. 

“Your fridge screen isn’t working!” Plagg was having a full conniption at the uncooperative appliance. 

Ceding his attention to the Kwami, Adrien lifted his head in his direction. Luka was swift to take advantage of Adrien’s exposed neck. 

“Yes it- ahhh - yes it is.” Adrien’s words skipped from Luka’s suckle against his neck, undoubtedly leaving a soft mark. 

“No! Guys! This is serious! It says there’s no cheese!” Plagg’s arms flapped like a baby bird learning to fly. 

Using his right hand, Luka pulled Adrien’s hips closer. His left hand grasped Adrien’s hair, controlling the direction of Adrien’s head.

“It- it- hmmm- it’s empty - p-Plagg.” Adrien could barely speak under Luka’s merciless infatuation. 

“So now that Snake Boy’s back I suddenly don’t matter?” Plagg pouted. 

“Plagg,” Luka paused his attack on Adrien’s neck, but stayed close enough so that Adrien could feel his words against his skin. “I can guarantee you there’s cheese in his jacket by the door, in his suitcase of clothes, and probably in that box on the counter from a specialty cheese shop. Adrien will always take care of you. But if you don’t leave us alone you’re going to be forced to watch how I take care of him.” His grip in Adrien’s hair and against his back tightened. “And it’s been a very stressful week. I can assure you, your hunger is nowhere near as ravenous as mine.” 

“Told you.” Sass satisfactorily stated. “Now we get to finally finish Sherlock.” 

Adrien’s temptation to ask what they bet dissolved as Luka’s teeth sunk into him. Rolling through his pleasure, he waited for his own moan to silence. “The TV’s not set up yet.” 

“Oh, the poor Kwamis.” Luka snickered. 

“THIS HOUSE IS A PRISON!” Plagg bellowed towards them. 

Luka was already working at pulling his Prettyboy back when Adrien shouted one last time to Plagg. “One - stop watching so many Will Ferrel movies! The quotes are going to be the death of me! Two - there is a whole deck out there. Play chess, cards, stare into the neighbours houses for all I care! But if you decide to stay and even threaten a heave, I’m cancelling my cheese box of the month subscription.” Adrien had never seen Plagg move so fast. 

Luka knew that Plagg had left by the relaxation that limped Adrien’s body. Luka directed his Prettyboy’s face to his own, inciting a shared passionate moan. Heat pulsed through Luka as he walked Adrien backwards, his hand extended in search of the wall. Once the wall pushed back, Luka rammed Adrien against it. The shocked gasp from Adrien was abated by the pressure of Luka’s body weight against him. 

Without allowing their lips to be separated, Luka picked up Adrien’s legs, guiding them to wrap around his waist. 

“We’re making out in the kitchen.” Luka panted. It felt utterly surreal. It was such a minute detail that made a world of difference. They weren’t trapped within a bedroom like teenagers hiding from their parents. 

“Mmm-hmm,” Adrien didn’t want to form real words, his mouth was too busy against Luka’s skin 

Warmth tingled through Luka as he realised that he would be able to touch him anywhere in the house. They were free. 

Within a State of Serenity

The little that Adrien had been able to do in the apartment so far had been painted with the hope of Luka returning. There was a section in the closet solely filled with clothing in Luka’s size. In his mini fridge, he had creams and sugar aside for Luka’s sweet tooth. The coffee machine installed in the bedroom was for Adrien, but the foresight to buy cream was for Luka. There was an unsealed green toothbrush by the sink and his favourite shampoo in the shower. The entire house was littered with mini proclamations of love for Luka.

Half-dried from the shower, Luka’s hair pointed in every direction as he leaned against the glass railing with a coffee in hand. The perfectly fitted grey dress shirt remained unbuttoned, only worn to show Adrien he admired the thought. Sometimes, Luka believed that Adrien pushed him away because he never truly cared. It would be hard to refute that idea now. 

“Found something that fit?” Adrien asked from the walk-in (having crossed through the door from the bathroom to the closet). 

Luka smirked at Adrien’s aloofness, as if he wouldn’t notice that he had been gifted his own wardrobe. Grabbing the black cup of coffee he headed through the left opening in the giant black shelving that separated the master bedroom from the bathroom and walk-in. 

Adrien was in the process of buttoning his dress pants when he noticed Luka’s silent presence. 

“Hey,” Adrien quietly smiled at Luka. 

Luka, still lost for words, went to pass over his coffee. Adrien responded by lifting a finger and reaching for a shirt. 

Basking in serenity, Luka sipped his coffee as he watched Adrien button up his shirt. 

“What did you think of the view?” Adrien worked on his last buttons. 

A smile grew as Luka scanned Adrien up and down. “The most stunning thing I’ve ever seen.” 

Rolling his eyes, Adrien reached for the coffee. “You’re ridiculous” 

“Utterly, ridiculous?” Luka tilted his face as he grinned. 

Taking Luka’s hand in his, Adrien pulled him out to the main part of the loft. The windows stretched the entire two stories of the wall across from them. Adrien set down his coffee so he could wrap his arms around Luka’s waist. 

“I don’t see your piano.” Luka scanned the floor below them. To his left, where the loft ended, seemed to be where a library was going to come together, the rest of that area to the window was barren. Separating this area was a bar, the bar itself aligning with the outside edge of the stairs to the loft, but did not connect with any walls with spaces on either side to walk between sections. Scanning right, there was a large circular couch that bore into the floor. Below them was Adrien’s home office and the kitchen. The bathroom from the staging area and the regular guest bathroom were connected on the right edge of the loft. The ceiling of the lavatories were masked by an angled climbing wall that spanned up to the roof and across to above the entry door. 

“It’s at the new headquarters, too many memories live within it.” Adrien brushed his lips against Luka’s shoulder blade. 

“No. You need a piano.” Luka surprised himself at the level it bothered him.

Adrien rubbed his hand along Luka’s bare stomach. “I know, do you know anyone who’s good with instruments?” 

“Piano’s are a whole different ballgame, Adrien. It takes me a year to make a violin, you’d be waiting a lot longer for a mediocre piano.” 

“Mmm, but you would know what to look for in one?” Adrien’s incoming favour was becoming increasingly clear as his lips met the bottom edge of Luka’s neck. 

“Yes, Adrien.” Luka amusingly sighed. “I will pick you out a piano.” 

“What do you think of the view?” Adrien tightened his grip around Luka’s waist, wanting him to notice the best reason why he chose this place.

Luka scanned the city skyline, it was truly breathtaking. The majority of the deck was on the outer side of the left wall, so that it did not distract from the view. “It’s beautiful, Adrien. You can even see the harbour.” 

Adrien’s grip tightened at the mention of the harbour. 

“Oh…” Luka’s voice was warm in comprehension. “You can even see the harbour.” 

Setting down his coffee, he turned to face the adoring man behind him. “Why did you get a place so close to the harbour? Trying to keep an eye on me?” 

Luka’s questions were suspicious, but his tones and caressing of Adrien’s face were doting.

Blushing, Adrien shook his head. “I know how much you worry about your family. I knew you would want to be close to them.” 

Luka froze, was Adrien asking him to move in with him? 

Seeing the fear glaze into Luka’s eyes, Adrien stammered to fix the moment. “It’s just - if it’s anything like before- I - I like it when you’re here a lot. And I want you to like it too. As much, or as little, as you want to be here.” 

Luka cupped Adrien’s cheek, “Thank you. You utterly ridiculously thoughtful man.” 

Luka definitely liked the new house. 

Author's Note:

I literally had to sketch out the whole apartment to figure out the proper way to explain it… sketch might be putting it nicely…

-

Plagg and Sass bet that Adrien would split with Luka to get cheese. Plagg thought he was convincing enough to make it happen, in the name of protecting Adrien. Sass told him that he had already done that once, they weren’t going to give in to cheese.

-

I hope everyone’s liking some of the cute stuff! It makes me excited to have them happy for a wee bit.

Disclaimer * The characters and original plot were written and created by Thomas Astruc. This writing is merely an interpretation in a sad gay type of way.

[hopelesswrites]

Secret Admirer - Joseph Quinn x reader

Here it is!

Warnings - unprotected sex between two consenting adults.

didn’t want to elaborate too much on their relationship you can use your imagination for the rest

You looked around the busy casual dining bar/restaurant while you waited for the bartender to be done with his current guest. The noise boomed through your ears as different tables of guests loudly chatted, your own table, filled with a large group of your friends probably being the loudest, occupying a large section of the establishment. You continued your scan of the room before your eyes landed on one particular man, sitting down chatting to a friend, a delightful smile spread across his face. You were stunned, it was Joe Quinn, you had secretly been obsessed with this man since his appearance in Stranger Things, the online presence his character had completely consuming you, unintentionally of course.

You secretly eyed him off, knowing it would be a terrible idea to go bother him while he was enjoying an evening with friends. You knew he had a convention the next day, one you were attending and meeting him at, so you refrained from taking your chance with him tonight, you weren’t going to be like that, ruining his night. Instead, you had a wonderful idea, partly influenced by the alcohol you had already consumed, you decided you would buy him an anonymous drink, have the bartender take it to him.

Your friend bounced over to you and your attention was taken away from Joe as your friend rambled on about something that had been said at your table by another friend. Eventually it was your turn to order, you stepped up and asked the man for your own order, “May I please have another glass of the Sav?” You asked the bartender for the wine you had been drinking that night. “Also” You continued leaning in a little more so you didn’t have to yell at the guy, “Can I buy a drink for a guest? Have you take it to him?” You really hoped he would say yes, your drunken mind already set on the idea of making Joes night with a free drink from a secret admirer. You received a light laugh from the man behind the bar, “Yeah sure, who is it?” He asked.

You slowly turned around and pointed to Joes table. “The one on the end there, in the blue shirt, can you do a martini?” You asked.

The bartender nodded before pouring your own drink and starting on Joes martini. “You want to leave a note with it?” he asked as he set down the drink and readied the machine to pay. You nodded your head, watching as the man walked off to find a pen and paper. He returned with a simple sheet of a small book and a pen.

On the note you wrote ‘Didn’t want to bother you, have a great night, enjoy the drink x’

You then returned to your own table with your glass of wine and watched as the bartender walked over to Joes table and handed him the drink. You observed the confused look on his face as he received the drink and was handed the note you wrote, His face lighting up as he read it. He looked back up at the bartender and you saw him say something before the bartender was looking in your direction and pointing your way.

Shit you thought, the bastard was outing you. You looked away quickly and tried to look engaged in conversation at your table, but you were completely in thought panicking over Joe knowing you had sent the drink. What if it was too forward and he thought you were weird for the gesture. It wasn’t meant to be an advance, you just wanted to do something nice. Suddenly your great drunken idea felt more like the dumbest thought you have ever had. You continued to listen to your friends, avoiding any eye contact with Joes table, because of this you didn’t notice the tall man walk up to you.

“Hey, is this seat taken?” You were startled by his voice above you, you looked up to see Joe, a small smile on his lips, martini in hand gesturing to the empty side of the booth seat you were sitting at, you shook your head no and shuffled over to allow him more space at your table.

“I’m Joe” he said holding out his hand delicately for you to take, which you did quickly. His hands were soft, this made you notice that everything about this man close up was soft, he radiated warmth and comfort and you were a puddle of mess inside thinking about your current situation. “You already knew that though” he continued with a little laugh.

“What makes you assume that?” You teased, wanting to stay cool calm and collected in front of the man you had been crushing on through a screen.

“Well, you bought me my favourite drink, which could have been a coincidence or you could have seen it online” He answered, lifting the drink to his mouth once he was done, staring intently at you waiting for a response. You could see the smirk on his lips from behind the glass, this man was absolutely going to be the death of you.

“Okay, you got me, I’m Y/N by the way”. You replied.

Joes smile grew. “it’s lovely to meet you Y/N” The way your name rolled off his tongue sent shivers down your spine. You felt numb, like this was a dream, you noticed the way Joe was looking at you, how dark and enticing his eyes were.

“I didn’t mean to bother you tonight; the bartender wasn’t supposed to say I bought you the drink”

Joe shuffled closer, the scent of his cologne and cigarettes intoxicating, you felt like you were being put under a spell. “I asked him who sent the drink, wanted to know who the pretty girl was with the pretty handwriting”

“It was my handwriting that interested you?” You teased.

Joe laughed, leaning in so he was only inches from your face. “I was watching you at the bar, saw you ordering the drinks, I was glad he confirmed it was you that had bought it”

His hand was brushing against your leg on the seat as he used his arm for support leaning into you. You friends had since been forgotten, your entire focus on Joe now. You looked into his eyes, over his face, down to his lips that were so close to touching your skin now.

“You were watching me?” You asked, just a whisper due to the proximity of his face. If it wasn’t for the dim lighting, you would have absolutely been busted with the bright blush forming on your face.

“Couldn’t keep my eyes off you” Joe answered, his smile growing, “That was until you started staring at me, I had to look away”

Your face got hotter at the admission, he was staring at you, and caught you staring? If you weren’t drunk and already in too deep with this man you’d be mortified, running off to go hide in the bathroom.

“I wasn’t staring, I was observing the room”

Joe leaned back and took another sip of his drink. “The room being my seat?”

You rolled your eyes playfully, “Flatter yourself however you like, I was observing the room”

Joe laughed out loud, “Oh I’m flattered love, you went out of your way to buy me a drink, left me a cute little note and everything, I can assure you I am very flattered, how can I repay you?”

You shook your head vigorously “No need to repay me”

“Nonsense, how about you accompany me back to my hotel and I get you a drink in return?”

Your mind was screaming at you, but you had to stay calm. “I won’t let you buy me a drink” You answered.

“But you’ll accompany me back to my hotel?” You nodded in response beginning to feel a little flustered by the advance, you didn’t expect this to happen when you decided to buy him a drink but now that it was how could you say no?

You both finished off your drinks before bidding your friends goodbye. Joe took your hand as he weaved you through the people and out of the restaurant into the crisp air. It didn’t take long before an uber was in front of you and you were getting in after Joe. He began to make small talk, asking you where you were from, what you did for work all the while his hand lay firmly on your thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze ever now and then.

The uber arrived at the hotel and you followed the tall man up to his room. He was quick to get a drink ordered for you both before leading you out to the balcony while you waited for staff to bring your drinks up. Joe pulled out a pack of smokes and lit one before sitting down on the chair on the balcony, he pulls out the chair next to his and pats the seat for you to sit down with him. You watched as he took a drag, head tipped back when he blew out the smoke. “You’re staring” Joe said a smirk forming on his face.

“I seem to be doing a lot of that tonight”

Joe chuckled, “You’ve just got a great view”

You laughed out loud at this. “You are so cocky!” Joe was looking at you now, that smirk adorned his face as he sent a wink in your direction. Joe continued to stare his smirk turning into a fond smile.

“You’re staring now” you whispered, feeling slightly insecure from his intense eyes.

“You’re beautiful, I’m allowed to stare” Joe adjusted in his seat, so he was looking at you directly. “Can I kiss you?” The question was so casual yet so direct it took you off guard you could only nod your head in response. Joe leaned over and grabbed you by the back of the neck to pull you in, your lips meeting in the middle for a soft hesitant kiss. He pulled away slightly to look for any hesitation in your eyes. Seeing none he closed the gap between you again his lips moving together with yours in a more desperate kiss this time, the need to kiss you all night coming out.

Joe’s hands trailed down your arms and pulled you up, so you fell into his lap without breaking the kiss, your arms finding their way around his neck as you gently played with the hair that fell there.

A knock at the door startled you out of the kiss, Joe lifted you off his lap to go answer the door and returned with your drinks. “Suddenly I’m not really feeling this? Are you?” Joe asked gesturing to the glasses in hand.

“No not anymore” You replied quietly, watching as he rested the drinks on the table and stood in front of you, hand outstretched for you to take. You placed yours in his and allowed him to pull you up from your seat and into his arms before he leaned down and connected your lips again.

“Good, because I was quite liking this” He whispered while slowly pulling you back into the hotel room and towards the bed. Joe’s lips connected with your jaw as he left a trail of kisses down your neck. You felt like you were on cloud nine, partially due to the alcohol fuzzing up your mind and the feeling of Joes roaming mouth.

You felt the edge of the bed against your legs before you were pushed down, Joe following you as he hopped on top and continued kissing down your neck. You moved your head to allow him more access and Joe complied with your unspoken gesture by trailing marks around your throat and down the valley of your breasts. You knew that some of these were definitely going to need to be covered in the morning.

Joes mouth continued down to the small bit of skin peaking out of your top and the band of your skirt. He slowly lifting it up and continued his gentle assault on your skin around your waist.

“Tell me to stop at any time sweetheart” Joe mumbled against your skin as he slowly rode your shirt up further, just below your bra, exposing nothing without your full permission.

“Please don’t stop” You sighed, impatiently, hating the feeling of his lips coming to a stop, you needed him so bad.

Joe chuckled against your skin before pushing your shirt further up and over your head, leaving you exposed in your bra and mini skirt. “Fucking beautiful” Joe whispered before attaching his lips back to your chest creating more marks and bruises across your tits. You felt his arm reach around your arched back and unclasp your bra, impatiently pulling it off and exposing yourself to him, his lips quickly attaching themselves to your right nipple gently sucking.

“Joe stop teasing me” You sighed, trying to speed him along. You were too worked up to deal with any foreplay right now.

“Patience” was all he said before giving your other nipple some attention, the shock of pleasure shooting down to your core making your need for him stronger.

Hi lips trailed down your stomach again and stopped just at the waistband of your skirt. Suddenly Joes arms snaked up your legs, pushing your skirt up to your waist exposing your panties, a matching set to the bra you had put on earlier in the night.

“All for me?” Joe asked, running a finger along the waistband, tugging at it, and letting it snap back, the shock from that sending heat down to your aching core. “You shouldn’t have, I’m too lucky”

You didn’t get a chance to respond before Joes mouth was on your cunt through the fabric of your panties. A loud moan escaped your lips at the sudden contact. He continued to lick at your sensitive bud through your panties providing some relieve but still not enough.

“Please, more” You whined in between moans as Joes mouth worked on you slowly. You felt his fingers rub your entrance over your panties before they were pushed to the side and he slipped a finger in slowly, the absence of fabric creating a whole different band of pleasure to course through you from his tongue. As Joe pumped his finger in and out you felt the tightening of the coil you so desperately wanted to snap. You ground your hips on joe’s mouth urgently trying to chase that high, scared at any moment he could take it away from you. You felt a vibration from Joe chuckling below you.

“I’ve got you love, come on my mouth now” You continued to move against him, feeling a buzzing through your whole body as your orgasm hit and a wave of pleasure rushed through you.

“That’s it baby” Joe coaxed as he sucked hard on your clit, riding out your high with you. You laid there a moment to catch your breath, you felt Joes hands gently rub up and down your thighs, soothing you out of your high.

But you had other plans, you wanted him, and your patience had worn out. You got up and rushed to get Joes shirt off his body, then fumbled with his belt.

“Eager, are we?” Joe chuckled, swatting your hands away and removing the belt with ease.

“You have no idea” You answered, pulling him closer by the waistband of his pants so you could remove them as well. Joe leaned down and connected your lips again in a feverish kiss, eliciting a moan from you.

“I might have a bit of an idea”

Joe assisted with pulling down his pants followed by his boxers, revealing his hard cock. You took a moment to take it in, it was impressive and left you watering at the mouth. You took it in your hand and slowly pumped a couple times, spreading the pre cum over his shaft.

“Fuck baby I don’t think I can have you teasing me like that” Joe hissed.

You looked up at him innocently, earning a soft moan from the man above you. “But you teased me so well” Joe shook his head “Not this time love” He pulled your hand away and hopped up on the bed leaning against the pillows, gesturing for you to get on top.

“There’ll be another time?” You questioned, settling yourself on his lap, his hard cock resting in between your clothed folds, you tried to ignore the pleasure to stay focussed on his answer.

Joe chuckled, while grabbing your hips to begin a slow motion, the friction almost making you forget what you were talking about.

“We can discuss that later” Joe reached up and pulled you down for another kiss. With his other hand Joe reached down and pushed your panties to the side again allowing your slick to coat his dick.

“I don’t think I have a condom” joe mumbled against your lips, but you were in far too deep to care.

“I don’t care, I’m on the pill” You replied frantically, the friction of his cock against your heat sending you quickly to another orgasm. You lifted your hips and Joe positioned his tip at your entrance allowing you to slowly sink down, Joes grip on your neck tightened and a hiss escaped his lips at the contact.

“Fuck you feel amazing” Joe groaned as you began to move up and down, the feeling of his cock hitting you right where you needed him encouraging you to keep going, you knew neither of you would last long. Loud breathy moans escaped Joes mouth and his grip on your waist tight, sure to leave bruises.

“Fuck sweetheart you don’t understand what you’re doing to me right now, you look so fucking stunning on my cock” Joes words sent shivers down your spine and heat to your core, you felt slightly exposed to him, on display above him but something about the dark look in his eyes that made you feel so sexy.

You felt the coil tighten again and you leaned on Joes shoulders for support as your orgasm washed over, he began to thrust into you harder, helping you through your high, the sound of skin on skin deafening you as you slumped against his body, letting him reach his own release. You felt his dick twitch inside of you and he quickly pulled out releasing over your stomach with a loud groan, a sound that you thought was more wonderful than angels singing. The realisation that your time with him was coming to an end saddened you as you both lay in each other’s arms, heavy breathing the only sound consuming the room.

Joe reached up and pulled your head off his shoulder, looking at you with hooded eyes and a lazy smile.

“Thank you for buying me that drink by the way”

[sitp-recs]

Please recommend Drarry fanfics where they are figuring out life and just going through motions after war. Would love if there are themes of found family too.

Hello anon! Oh man, do I love this trope. Here are some of my favorites:

Too hard to be lived without by @harryromper (2018, T, 3k)

Or, in which Draco manages to find some peace until Harry comes barrelling back into his life.

Five Years by @shiftylinguini (2017, M, 4.6k)

For Draco, December means finding somewhere he can lose himself in the thrum of a crowd and the throb of music ― and Potter. It always means Potter now, too.

Turn and Face the Strange (time may change me) by @punk-rock-yuppie (2019, T, 16k)

Draco and Harry and how their relationship—and themselves—change over the course of eleven years.

Poor Unfortunate Souls by @doubleappled (2019, E, 19k)

Draco is a potioneer. Harry is trying to save his sex-challenged marriage. Everything is a mess, but at least there's an octopus in the lobby.

A Year in Training by Omi_Ohmy (2013, M, 25k)

Harry is finally living his dream and training as an Auror, but nothing seems to be going right: he’s just so angry all the time. And Draco Malfoy’s presence on the programme really isn’t helping with that, either.

Rebel, Rebel by @makeitp1nk (2022, E, 29k)

Thirty-six year old Harry Potter is the coolest bloke in muggle Camden Town. That’s right — he’s left the wizarding world behind and has been living his best life ever since. But will one chance encounter with a certain blond from his past change everything? Yeah, probably.

Things Unknown but Longed for Still by @cassiaratheslytherpuff (2021, E, 29k)

Harry feels trapped by the unwanted fame he received after the war. Everyone has an expectation of who he is before they meet him, and they all want a piece of the famous Harry Potter. Feeling unable to connect to anyone and imprisoned in the life of someone he doesn’t recognise as himself, Harry turns to Ron and Hermione who set him up on an anonymous dating site and helps him find a place to escape. Free from all the expectations placed on him Harry starts to heal, and the anonymous man he meets on the dating site shows him love might not be as impossible as he’d feared.

War Wounds by SilentAuror (2007, E, 30k)

Some wounds take longer to recover from than others. HP/DM, with background HP/GW. Themes of alcoholism, love triangles, and dubious fidelity.

On One's Knees by pir8fancier (2008, E, 33k)

The war is over and to the victors go the spoils. If you are triggered by infidelity, this is not the fic for you.

Open For Repairs by @drarrytrash (2015, M, 35k)

After the war, Draco works at a tv repair shop and Harry breaks things.

(Un)Wanted by @aibidil (2020, E, 36k)

Ginny's pregnant, then she's not and Harry's single. Harry, again with no family, doesn't know what to do with this turn of events, or how to find a new life—post-war, post-Ginny, post-abortion—in which he belongs. He doesn't expect that life to include dancing to the Backstreet Boys with Hermione and Draco Malfoy. A story of finding belonging in the unexpected.

Here's The Pencil, Make It Work by ignatiustrout (2013, M, 49k)

Harry thinks "Why is Malfoy working in a coffee shop in muggle London?" is a much simpler question than, "Are you going to accept that auror offer and, if you don't, what will you do?"

Modern Love by @tackytigerfic (2020, E, 60k)

Harry Potter, of all people, knows that life isn’t always fair. And no one gets to be happy all of the time. But surely there’s something more—something better—than a rubbish Ministry job, and a lonely old house, and that feeling that everyone out there is doing a better job of living than Harry is.

The Way Down by @letteredlettered (2015, T, 65k)

Harry is overwhelmed by his own power and fame and angst, so he's become a hermit. Draco Malfoy is tired of the melodrama.

[wearywinchester]

Healing Hands

Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: After returning from a hunt, you’re there to patch Dean up.

Requested by Anonymous: ““Let me bandage you up.” and “Let me see your scars…” are sooooo Dean omg”

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: injury, mentions of blood, mentions of alcohol, scars, fluff, kissing

The very moment your hand fell to the mattress, the spot empty and cold just to your left, a heavy sigh huffed past your lips. The old bedroom was dimly lit as the occasional glow of moonlight streamed through the sheer curtains, quickly covered by more rain clouds as the night ticked by, the room quiet save for the wind swaying the trees outside. On the nightstand to your right, the alarm clock read 12:07 in blaring red numbers, blurred from the drowsiness that hadn’t quite left yet.

He still hadn’t come to bed.

With a yawn, you push back the tattered flannel blanket sprawled over you, bare feet pressing to the cool hardwood floors of the small bedroom as you make your way to the door. You knew exactly where he’d be as you wandered through the hall and down the stairs, Bobby’s snoring still just as loud as it’s ever been. The carpet lining the staircase was worn away from years of the same foot traffic in the same spots, fraying at the edges and threadbare in some places. You wince at the creaky squeals they made even with the slightest pressure upon them, sneaking a glance at Sam still nestled comfortably on the couch. As comfortably as he could be with the way his feet hung ever so obviously over the arm of it and his fingertips nearly brushing against the floor.

One simple move and surely he’d fall off.

You stepped lightly through the room and around the heaps of lore books piled on the floor around the old coffee table, one laying face down and open atop Sam’s chest as he slept peacefully. You knew he’d been looking for a new case even though you just got back from a hunt mere hours earlier, but that’s just how Sam was.

The softest glow of light filtering out from the kitchen leads you in the right direction, the very same direction you’d been heading in anyway. When you rounded the corner your lips pursed immediately at the sight, one you knew you’d be seeing and you were right, leaning your shoulder against the doorframe as your arms crossed over your chest. You eyed the empty beer bottle on the counter, two bent bottle caps to accompany it and you heaved the softest of sighs.

Standing just paces away from you was your beau, the man you’d been in search of for no longer than a couple minutes as he stood with his back to you at the small kitchen sink. If you had to guess, he’d been gazing at the tree line on the very edge of Bobby’s property, his mind probably going a mile a minute otherwise he’d have been in bed already.

In a matter of moments he’d turned his head, the silhouette of his nose and angle of his jaw, the curve of his lips and the raise of his brow coming into view.

“I thought I told you not to wait up for me, sweetheart,” he said softly, voice gruff and mildly frustrated all the same.

You roll your eyes, head tilting to the side. “And I thought you knew better than to believe I’d ever listen.”

He chuckles then, half humorously and half not as he turns to face you and lean back against the counter. That was the problem, you hadn’t listened almost the entirety of that day and it brought you closer to danger than he ever would have liked you to be. Your independence was something he would always love about you, but sometimes he wishes you weren’t so fearless for just once.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips as he looks at you, lips pursing to match your own. That’s when you saw it. You saw the smudges of crimson still remaining on his cheek and that alone was telling that he had yet to touch the graze on the top of his shoulder. You should have known better than to take his word for it when he said he’d do it.

His brow quirks up all the more when you walk the few paces towards the cabinet with a less than pleased expression.

“What are you doing?” He asked, watching as you pulled out the first aid kit, taking a sip from his beer.

“Let me bandage you up.”

“‘M fine, Y/n.”

The look you give him is one that has a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, one that deepened the displeasure you held because you were absolutely not amused. Not even a little bit. But he takes a seat at the kitchen table with a huff anyway, his gaze on you as you set everything down on the worn surface.

“I thought you said you were gonna do this, Dean,” you sigh, exasperated, digging through the kit in search of a few cotton pads and a bandage for his shoulder, snagging a few strips for his face.

“I told you, I’m fine,” he argues quietly, swirling the beer around in its bottle before flashing you a smile.

“Yeah, that’s the last time I’ll take your word for it.”

It’s quiet for a few moments and you can feel his stare, stealing a glance to meet his gaze before you look back at the task at hand, grabbing what you need and pushing the kit off to the side and out of your way. It was obvious you weren’t all too happy with him, he could tell by the soft frown tugging downwards on your lips and the furrow of your brows, by the way you tense your jaw no matter how subtle it was.

“Y/n—”

“I’m serious, Dean. You always say you’re fine and you’re not. You still have blood on your face,” you say, refraining from raising your voice as the frustration simmered in your stomach.

He sighed, his own jaw clenching as he looked away for a moment. Taking care of himself as never the first of his priorities, especially after hunts. His priorities were always you, whether it was when you were his stubborn best friend who made it a point to prove to him you’ve got this whole hunting thing down, that you could handle things yourself, or if it’s now and you’re the love of his life who shaved years off of it each and every time you do your own thing the second he puts the car in park on a hunt. It’s you and it’ll always be you.

He brought his hand up, smoothing the crease between your brows with the pad of his thumb as his chin rests atop the glass bottle he held to the table. His hand drops a fraction to settle on your cheek, calloused and warm. He always knew just what to do to get your anger to melt, to get you to not be quite so mad at him and you hated to say it was working. It was working and he knew it. He knew it when you grabbed his wrist and tugged his hand away, shoving it lightly as the corner of your mouth quirks upwards just enough to have you rolling your eyes to hide it.

You always did that and he’s come to know exactly what it meant.

“That’s not gonna work on me forever, De,” you say, trying to sound matter of fact with your words.

He laughs softly, grinning up at you. “Yeah it will.”

You exhale a huff, giving up your efforts on stifling the softness of your smile because you knew he was right. You couldn’t when he looked at you the way he did with a certain fondness reserved just for you. With a shake of your head you gather your thoughts once more from before he’d gone and distracted you, ripping open an alcohol pad before unraveling it. He winced at the sting it caused when you swiped it over his skin, grazing over the scratch across his cheek that he’d neglected since you got back to Bobby’s for the night.

“Easy there, would you, sweetheart?” He grumbles, lips pursed and brows furrowed.

“Oh, shut up,” you murmur, smile widening when he nudged you with his knee in disapproval.

It was then that you dipped down, lips pressing gently to his own to soften the grumpy attitude that surely was brewing the more you tended to his wounds. In fact, you knew it was with the way he bounced his knee under the table. You felt his smile press into your kiss, his lips lingering over your own to steal another before you went and pulled away from him. You knew how to ease his anger just as much as he knew how to ease yours, his grin still apparent when you pull back enough to see it.

“Don’t start thinkin’ that’s gonna work on me forever,” he says, copying your earlier words.

You raise a brow in amusement, leaning down to hover mere centimeters over his lips. You felt his breath fan over your skin and his nose brush against your own as he leaned all the more closer.

“I’ll try and remember that.”

You pull yourself away once more and the look on his face has you smiling, a laugh leaving your lips when he frowns, lips pursing till those dimples you love oh so much appear at the corners of his mouth. You reach behind you and grab the bandages you snagged from the kit, the cut on his cheek superficial enough to only require a couple of closure strips to heal as it needs to.

Next, you peel back the sleeve of his shirt, the soft gray material having been stained crimson on his shoulder, more than it probably would have been had he tended to it like he said he would. But you were too tired to argue over something so trivial, not after the day you’d had. What you weren’t too tired to do was flash him another displeased look at the sight of the scrape running red and irritated along his skin, some parts deeper than others. It wasn’t something that could just be let go, not with the way Dean gets bumps and bruises every other day.

He groaned when you grabbed the peroxide, something he hated each and every time you used it. He’s suffered some of the worst injuries, but he’s convinced it’s something as simple as an antiseptic that’ll kill him.

“Sweetheart,” he grumbles into his beer bottle, one you’re quick to swipe from him mid gulp and put it out of reach.

“It’s midnight, De,” you sigh.

He sits back in his chair with slumped shoulders, letting his eyes fall closed and allowing you to clean him up. You pressed a fresh hand towel you snagged from a cupboard and held it below the wound, careful as you poured some of the clear liquid over it. He tensed immediately, brows furrowing as he reached for his drink once more. He gives up when he can’t reach it, sitting back in his seat with that ever familiar frown again.

You cap the bottle and set it aside, gentle as you blot at his shoulder. His gaze bounces around from the window by the table to the clock hung a tad bit crookedly on the wall, it’s pendulum swinging lightly as the ticking filled the near quiet of the room. Then his gaze drops to the table, his fingers tapping against the scratched wood as he puckers his lips in thought. Something was going through that head of his and you knew it, knew by the way he bit the inside of his cheek. You knew it for a fact when you saw the smile appear on his lips the more he thought about it, even more so when the softest of laughs puffs out through his nose.

“Remember the first time you ever patched me up?” He asks, eyes lifting to meet yours.

Your own smile was instant, the thought quick to come to mind. You set down the towel in favor of grabbing the gauze and the half-used roll of bandage, turning back to him. “We were nineteen, and you just came back from a nasty hunt after playing tough guy with a wendigo.”

“I had it handled,” he defended, voice faltering as he recalled just what happened with a grin.

“You said that then too,” you counter, eyes rolling as you chuckle to yourself. You rest the gauze over the top of his shoulder before unraveling the roll of bandage. “You were sitting almost in this exact spot too.”

“Once a tough guy always a tough guy, huh sweetheart?”

If you roll your eyes another time they just might stay there, your head shaking and your smile widening. “You’re a dork, you know that?”

He’s beaming by this point. “I can’t be the handsome hero all the time.”

Your smile goes from teasing to soft, dipping down to press a kiss to his forehead, one that he very much got the utmost joy out of as he looked at you. “And remember what you said to me that night?”

“‘Let me see your scars’,” you said at the same time.

“But, out of all your hunting scars, you know which one is my favorite?” You hum, tucking in the end of the bandage once you finished wrapping it, tugging down his sleeve. “That one right above your knee when Sam accidentally knocked you off your bike when we were kids. Your dad didn’t let you see us for a week after that.”

“Because you were a troublemaker,” you jest.

“Was not.”

“Were too,” you argue, tone softening. “Still are. Ten years later you still are.”

Your words were backed when your eyes fell to his hand, catching a glimpse of the repercussions of getting worked up when a demon tries to get in even a word about you. Not to mention words that got Dean more than a little angry. He still didn’t master the ability to tune them out when they say things to work him up, that’s what they do. They can say all they want about him, but not you.

You brushed your thumb over his knuckles, sighing quietly as you looked at just how red and angry they looked, near purple and you knew his hand had to be sore. It was clear to see he’d at least cleaned them up but you knew it couldn’t have been anything more than the dish soap Bobby had under the kitchen sink. He was never really one to look after himself, especially after hunts. Unless he’d been seriously injured, he couldn’t care less about other things because he was too busy fussing over you. Even if you’d gotten something as simple as a scratch, he’d worry and he’d frown, he’d overdo it with the bandages and he’d grumble about it.

He watched as you ran your fingers over each knuckle, a delicate sweep along his skin and he knew it was because you were afraid of hurting him any more than that demon did. He heard your sigh and he saw the softest of frowns on your lips. Without a word he pulled you closer, sitting down on his lap.

“I would say I can’t believe you didn’t patch yourself up, but I can,” you say, watching the way his lips quirk into a smile.

“Maybe I just like when you do it,” he shrugs, his smile widening as he bumps your nose with his.

“You’re a dork,” you murmur with a sigh.

“I’ll take it,” he says softly, still smiling as his breath fans over your lips after he laughs quietly. “Now will you kiss me already? I’m dyin’ over here.”

Your smile is immediate as your lips brush over his, pressing fully as your grins mingle in the more than close proximity you had. His lips were warm and soft, his kiss tasting of beer and a bit of that apple pie he indulged in at the diner and maybe a hint of a burger. When you pulled away you weren’t quite ready, he wasn’t quite ready, kissing him once, twice, three more times with a promise that that probably wasn’t the last of the sweeter than sweet kisses to be shared that night. There were bound to be at least a few more before he finally crashes after the day you’ve all had.

“Thanks for patchin’ me up,” he murmurs against your lips, his forehead resting against yours.

You hum softly in response, smiling like a fool just as much as he was. You’d always take care of him and he’d always take care of you. Even if you’ve both got the attitudes to rival each other, there isn’t a single hunt that will go by where you wouldn’t look after one another.

—

Tags: @flamencodiva @stixnstripesworld @dean-is-sams-apple-pie @elegantbutedgy @humanmistakes @agalliasi @campingmonkey

[burnedbyshoto]

hole in the wall

In a party for the ages, Shouto comes across a room with hole in the wall that has him coming back for more.

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pairing: todoroki shouto x fem!reader

warnings: 18+, smut, PWP, cult activity, drug mention, alcohol consumption, glory hole, cursing, degradation, praise, possessive jealous!shouto, stuck in the wall, spanking, overstim, bruising, bleeding, breeding

word count: 7,831

a/n: read the fucking warnings bro, im tired, I hate formatting, here’s to finally writing what I wanna write! also, this is for a lovely bnharem collab that kept getting pushed back... make sure to read the intro to understand my story! anyways, gloryholes is peak anonymous sex and I just,,, if thats the only way imma get to suck shoutos cock, I will. I had something else to say... I forgot. oH THIS IS WRITTEN IN A NEW STLYE-ISH??? porn from shoutos pov!!!

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Traditionally, when people think of the connection between heroes and cults, they expect that the heroes eradicate the cults, not that the heroes are a part of a cult.

It was somewhat ironic that a group of people who advocated for public safety, for the wellbeing of every citizen of the country - the world - would demand compensation in areas that didn't involve financial compensation. Heroes saved the day countless amounts of times, but when they needed... help at night because they've been so busy saving the world, there needed to be compensation.

It had shocked nearly everyone within the hero community when none other than Yaoyorozu Momo brought them a solution. For nothing more than loyalty to saving the day, all heroes granted the benefit of joining the Savior of Eight Million, an… organization brought forth by the prodigious hero. It had shocked the hero community at first that the once thought of a modern-day princess, putting together a wicked group that served the beastly needs of heroes, was almost laughable. But as time passed, as trials tested the organization (cult), the more heroes realized how lucky they were that it was Yaoyorozu who created this.

The Yaoyorozus, in all their riches and connections, made this group untouchable.

Police were bought off, apprehended, silenced.

Heroes with the savior complex were put down.

Villains were never believed.

The Savior of Eight Million held ties with the greatest, the most esteemed people in the world. The parties were unworldly, dripping with diamonds and gold, the sweet smell of champagne barely drowning out the bitter acidic and burning plastic smell of the drugs used vicariously at their gatherings. All heroes joined, politicians and celebrities fought to get in, and commoners wished they could be the servants of the night, whether that meant they would be serving food, drinks, or drugs, or allowing the heroes to do what this was all started for: to fuck them.

Of course, it didn't help that each commoner was paid for their service, discretion, and loyalty. Those who attempted to give away the secrets of the nights were always taken care of, and every gathering after someone tried to snitch, there was always a complaint that a sex slave just wasn't good enough.

Yaoyorozu Momo was a sweet girl, a helpful woman. She was a hero.

Heroes far and wide grovel at her feet in thanks, and even more surprisingly, even her old class supported this. Oh, how great life was when you were the most significant, greatest, and most untouchable cult in history.

To Todoroki Shouto, well, he didn't really have an opinion on this all, not really at least.

The cult - the organization, was created to help out heroes such as himself live comfortably while having such a busy lifestyle. His sex drive had never been that high, with his twenty-fifth birthday approaching, he could count on his two hands the number of times he'd been attended to with the help of the organization within the past five years.

Yes, two years after debuting as heroes, Momo had approached the graduate class with her plan. Todoroki Shouto could never deny a friend, especially not someone as smart and intentional as Yaoyorozu Momo. He had been one of the first - if not the first - voice to approve of her project.

However, the fifth-anniversary gathering (it was not a party) was finally here. Two months ago, the first round of reminders came around in the form of a beautifully handwritten card by their fearless yet kind leader. Shouto wondered if she really had handwritten each and every card, or if she had created it with her quirk - while he wasn't that heavily involved, he was not ignorant to the numbers of the cult, group, organization.

TO TODOROKI SHOUTO,

I WRITE THIS LETTER TO ASK IF YOU WILL BE JOINING US IN TWO MONTHS FOR ONE OF THE MANY GREATEST CELEBRATIONS WE - THE MEMBERS OF THE SAVIOR OF EIGHT MILLION - WILL HAVE FOR OUR FIFTH ANNIVERSARY OF BEING SUCH A WELL RECEIVED AND INFLUENTIAL ORGANIZATION. I AM GRATEFUL TO RELAY THAT OUR ESTEEMED MEMBERS BAKUGOU-SAN AND MIDORIYA-SAN WILL BE HOSTING OUR EVENT!

I FEEL AS IF WE HAVE NOT SEEN EACH OTHER IN SO LONG, TODOROKI-SAN, AND I MISS YOU SO DEARLY. I HOPE THINGS IN YOUR LIFE HAVE BEEN FINE AND THAT WE SHOULD MEET UP AS SOON AS POSSIBLE! PLEASE MAKE SURE TO RESPOND TO THE RSVP TO EITHER JIROU-SAN, KAMINARI-SAN, OR ME!

UNTIL WE MEET AGAIN, YAOYOROZU MOMO

The letter had been kind, inviting, and so fleeting it made Shouto feel like he needed more from one of his most missed and trusted friend. Still, there would be time to catch up with everyone, no use in pushing now.

Grabbing his phone, Shouto typed in Momo's contact name into the search bar, tongue swiping his lower lip while he typed in his message and sent it. He had never been one for these parties. Too often, there were just too over-the-top. The festivities and friends were fun, but having to fight the impossible crowds for a moment of peace kept him from attending.

A truly mundane member.

But this was different after all, it wasn't every day that they celebrated five great years of service.

I'll be going, Yayorozu.

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Two months went by before Shouto had even realized it.

In those two months, he had received a formal invitation with a day and time. 

2X28, OCTOBER 23

STARTING FROM 20:00

Of course, the lack of an address is a precaution for keeping their organization out of the limelight should they be betrayed. Events of all shapes and sizes were always planned by the upper board of the organization. Only a specific few knew the place where the night would befall, and the rest of the members would be brought to the festivities by a chauffeur provided by the Yaoyorozu's. Getting to and from the party was always stressfree, no matter what befell that night, their safety of getting home was still safe.

The invitation was tucked away into the inside pocket of his jacket, it was his ticket to getting into the party, and it was best to not leave it behind. 

With the invitation now securely placed into his jacket, the smooth inflexible material stiff against his chest, Shouto stared into the mirror he stood before.

An elegant full-length mirror reflected his image to him, and truth be told, he was impressed with his presentation.

A charcoal grey Italian suit trimmed glinting silver nearly gleamed against the white light; the jacket was undone, exposing the white-collared long-sleeved shirt underneath. Typically, Shouto was a tie man, but the sleek black tie he was to wear lay hanging on the hanger, the first few buttons of the shirt undone. It highlighted his toned chest, the few pale scars on his chest just visible enough on his exposed skin to look like it was intensional. He looked good.

His fingers touched his hair, the once long style had been cut in a recent fight with a villain. It hadn't mattered much to Shouto, and in fact, the sudden haircut had spiked his overall ratings. It was short now, just long enough for his fingers to graze through the locks. It was slicked back, the swirl of red and white mixing and strands of red falling into his sight.

“Todoroki-sama, the car is here.”

Shouto didn't bother turning to the attendee, his gaze taking him in one last time.

"I'll be there."

His footsteps were quiet in the hallway, his waxed shiny black shoes gleaming in his hands as he walked to the front room. He slipped on the tight shoes and looked up to his servant, who stood at the front door with a patterned, black mask.

Nodding, he grabbed the mask and slipped it inside of his jacket as well.

A kitsune.

"Safe journey."

"I'll be back tonight."

And into the car, he went, the warm smell of leather and spices filling the backseat of the self-driving car. Shouto relaxed against the black leather, his eyes staring at the road while he slipped the mask out from his jacket. There was no reason to don the mask while stepping out of the house, being caught with it at his home always smelled trouble. 

In the car's silence, his fingers rested onto his lap, his lips set into a firm line while his thoughts lingered to what was to come at this party. 

The last time Bakugou and Midoriya hosted anything, it had ended with an overall disaster. Thankfully then it had been for their agency's founding party and not something dealing with the organization. But before he could muster the will to seek out further information on the private event, he realized that the car was already pulling into the large mansion where the event was being held.

People emerged from the cars before his own, the sleek masks donning on their faces, keeping their identities from unwanted eyes. The covers were specially made by none other than Yaoyorozu with the assistance of Hatsume Mei to ensure that those who wore it would be unrecognizable unless they were within a certain radius.

A small puff of air escaped Shouto's lips as his car pulled up to the unloading zone, and his strong fingers slipped on the mask before the car door opened. With the confidence and power, only those who worked as a top-ranked hero had Shouto emerged from the car immediately greeted by the entrance staff. 

With his hands moving to button his jacket, he nodded his head when receiving information on what to expect upon entering. Shouto felt like he nodded forever while making his way up the entrance of the event, his hand reluctantly offering his phone and wallet over and receiving a ticket for retrieving it. Of course, the ticket came the bundle of condoms.

An eyebrow arched under the mask, and Shouto couldn't help the amused smirk that befell his lips as he pocketed the condoms.

The fuckers made this a sex party.

Why they even bothered to deny that they were a cult was beyond him at this point.

But as the grand doors opened, Shouto couldn't help but tense at the room's mixing aroma.

The sweet smell of champagne bubbled in his nose, wafting in powerfully with the perfumes secreting from every person in the room. If it had been his first time at an event like this, Shouto would have missed the undertone of burning plastic in the air. His eyes followed a civilian dressed up in a zebra zentai bodysuit holding a silver powder with most definitely not cocaine to who looked like the Prime Minister since he had his mask on.

Rolling his eyes, Shouto walked further into the room, ignoring the offers of drugs and alcohol as he carried on. 

"Todoroki, my man! You made it!" came the loud and energetic voice of Kaminari Denki.

It shouldn't have shocked Shouto to immediately be swarmed with who looked like Kirishima (who wore a mask resembling a bear) and Kaminari (who had his mouse resembling mask resting on around his neck), who by the smell at least, were not sober.

"You're the last one to show up, dude! We almost thought you were gonna flake!" Kirishima added, his hand coming to land on Shouto's shoulder, his lips perked into a broad smile. "Everyone else decided to join the orgy room a few minutes ago, but this guy here—" he made a pointed jab at Kaminari's chest. "Was causing a large enough disturbance that we were kicked out."

"Bro, it's not my fault that those dummy civilians can't handle a few jolts of pain!"

"You literally electrocuted everyone in that orgy and left everyone unable to speak for a solid minute, bro!"

"Everyone else is here?" Shouto interrupted rather impressed to here that even Mineta was invited to this party - or maybe he had snuck in - choosing to ignore the mention of an orgy room.

Typical cult things, he reminded himself.

"Yeah, Denki and I don't have to go in tomorrow, so we pre-gamed at his place before coming. Sero did too, but after a few minutes of talking with some trapeze girl, they went into a room and well…" Kirishima trailed off, letting Shouto put two and two together. "Mina is flirting with the crown prince, Yaomomo and Jirou are in the orgy room, Bakugou and Midoriya seem to be micromanaging everything—"

"Those two need sex the most out of the entire class! Have you ever seen a bigger work pole up anyone's asses than in those two?!" Kaminari groaned, his fingers roughly rubbing the skin of his face, and Shouto laughed softly in agreement. It was somewhat ironic that their virgin classmates were the ones who organized and put together a sex party.

"I can't begin to imagine Midoriya having sex. Although that man is basically becoming sex on legs," Kaminari continued to gripe, Shouto grunting softly in thanks when Kirishima handed him a cup filled to the near brim with a copper liquid that burned smoothly down his throat. Shouto grimaced as he managed to down the entire thing. "I can see Bakugou just blowing a hole into the wall and fucking it and considering that sex. Ain't nobody normal who can — OH MY GOD!"

Shouto looked at his friend with nearing annoyance; however, the alcohol already taking a humming effect over his body made the annoyance slip easily.

"Bro, you're gonna get us kicked out of this party, and that's gonna be the shittiest thing!" Kirishima groaned while Kaminari spazzed with what seemed to be the biggest lightbulb of an idea.

"The hoes — the holes! For the glory!" Kaminari slurred with how fast he was speaking, his hands fisting into both Shouto's and Kirishima's jackets, his yellow eyes burning bright in his excitement.

Shouto tried to keep his annoyance down, and the itch to rip Kaminari's iron grip from his shoulder.

"I don't know what you're talking about—" Kirishima tried again, his hand resting on Kaminari's ribcage to steady him. 

"Ei, the gloryholes!"

Gloryholes? 

Shouto numbing mind searched the banks of his memory to figure out where that word came from and why it sounded vaguely familiar.

"Oh, fuck," came Kirishima's strained approval, and Shouto looked at his two friends who were grinning pervertedly at each other.

"What's that?" Shouto asked, his lips buzzing slightly as the alcohol was fully absorbed into his bloodstream, and somehow the smell of sex filled his nose, and the noises of unadulterated carnal lust filled his ears.

"Oh man, Todoroki, if you don't know," Kaminari trailed off, his lips pinched into an elfish smirk, and electricity coming off his hair in his evident excitement. "Just trust me, you gotta experience this shit!"

Shouto wasn't sure if it was the alcohol that thrummed merrily in his veins or the knowing glint in his friend's eyes that whispered to him to find out just what it was, but he felt his head nod without his full awareness. The feeling of their hands on his upper shoulder felt fuzzy as they took him away, intent heavy in every step they took.

He could barely take in the passing rooms as they went, the aerial artists, the sex rooms, the orgy rooms. There were so many rooms designated for just about every kink imaginable that even the stoic Shouto felt his cheeks flaring in embarrassment. With each passing step and opened room, the smell of sex, pheromones, and lust grew in Shouto's nose; the more the sticky sweet moans and screams of the cult members clung to his skin.

For a hero that was never too hot or too cold without his own ministrations, his skin was feeling feverishly hot with cold feet when they finally stopped in front of the only closed door in the hallway.

"Welcome!" came a cheery voice, Shouto blinked, and a woman appeared from nowhere.

She wore a powder blue ava tea dress; it was elegant, sleek, yet too old-school for an event such as this one. Shouto immediately assumed that she was not partaking in the sexual activities, but was instead acting as a hostess of sorts.

"Just you three patrons tonight?" she asked, her head tilting to the side and Kirishima speaking up in agreement for the group of three. "Good, good. We do have enough openings for the three of you, most people haven't found our little… hole in the wall, if you would," she took a moment to giggle joyfully, her gloved fingers pressing to her ruby red lips and Shouto fought the urge to walk away. "So please, feel free to look around and stay as long as you want!"

Her words were light and breezy, but still, there was rising suspicion and tension in Shouto's spine at her small quip.

With an innocuous smile and a glint in her eyes, she opened the door with a gentle, "have fun," and Shouto's friends ushered him in.

His initial reaction? What. The. Fuck?!

The room they entered was large and spacious, or well, at the very least, Shouto assumed it would have been if it wasn't for the obviously installed maze of walls. But with every wall, there was a collage of pictures. Faces of women, men, humans, mutants, everything you could think of plastered above a hole. Curiously enough, the images above one hole were of the same person.

His eyes swept the room, and he saw a few spots already taken, men with their pants and underwear dropped to their knees pressing up against the wall so that their noses were smushed to the makeshift walls.

Shouto blinked.

Gloryholes? Pictures of random people?

Were they fucking ghosts?

"This is paradise!" Kaminari groaned in pleasure, his arms spacing out as if he had come with fantastic news. "These normies always look at you so weirdly when you fuck at orgies, here… you get the nut and don't have to have them staring at you!"

Paradise?!

Shouto stared as his electricity wielding friend approached a hole that adorned photos of a girl with hooded eyes and a tongue piercing. He dropped his bottoms before sticking his hardening cock into the waiting hole with two raps of his fist. At this point, Shouto wasn't sure if what he had drunk was actually alcohol now. 

"These aren't dead people, are they?" Shouto couldn't keep himself from asking, his palms sweating while Kirishima laughed deeply in his chest.

"Not at all, man, it's real people, I promise! Pick your hole and have fun!" Kirishima encouraged, placing a solid pat on Shouto's shoulder before approaching a hole with a picture of a girl with bright eyes and a bright smile.

Nodding numbly to himself at this point, Shouto meandered the different walls, his eyes absorbing the various pictures on the walls.

But he fell on the spot with a picture so vivating that drew him in. The chasms of your eyes defiant yet shy, a smile that called him in, and lips that looked supple and strong.

He stood no chance in defying the itching, burning need to follow suit of every other person in this room. Shouto approached the hole, his fingers pulling at his belt, quickly lowering his charcoal grey slacks and black boxer briefs. He stared into your pictured eyes, mesmerized by them, and grasped onto his hardening cock.

A soft shudder invaded his skin as he pressed his cock through the awaiting hole, the skin of his heated cock scraping against the hole, making him strangle a grunt in his throat. But when the wet heat of your mouth enveloped his cock past the hole in the wall, Shouto's face nearly crashed against the wall.

Shouto wasn't sure what to have expected, but he had summed up that this was some over-glorified handjob, a vigorous clumsy jackoff he could have done himself. But he did not expect, in any sense of what this was, to be met with warm, wet lips and a tongue that pressed underneath the head of his cock.

A guttural noise slipped past his lips, and Shouto's palms pressed against the wall, his head spinning dizzyingly from the sensation.

Shouto's breathing was erratic, his cock hardening more, twitching within your mouth as he felt your head begin to bob against his length at a slow, leisurely pace. 

His hips thrust toward the wall, his vision spinning from what this heightened sensation of what he always thought to be a mundane act. Shouto's slacks were too far up his thighs; however, the fabric spread to his max despite his attempt to lower down. He wanted to get closer to the wall, get whoever you were past this wall to take in his entire cock without an issue, so mindlessly, instinctively, he shoved the slacks further down, grunting with relieved pleasure at being able to spread out further, at getting closer to you.

"Holy shit," Shouto grunted, his forehead pressing against the cold wall, undoubtedly crinkling the paper of your photos. His hips came forward, hitting the wall dividing him and you with low, vibrating thuds, and you let him, allowed him to keep his rutting hips at the pace they were. You took him in as if it was nothing, the smooth skin of your lips gliding against his throbbing length, your tongue running alongside the bottom of his cock, tracing the veins of his skin, twisting against the sensitive skin, providing new sensations and shivers.

Shouto knew immediately that you were letting him fuck your mouth however he saw fit.

He felt you moan around him, a long, deep, undeniable noise that somehow drifted through the hole, vibrated against his cock, and could be felt against his curling toes. The sound and sensations were proving to be effective, a pooling heat building in his balls, simmering up and down his spine and neck. How he wished to grab you by the back of your head and drive his cock down your throat without mercy.

Snarling in the back of his throat, suddenly fueled by the image of fucking you, the thought of you on your knees, tears built in your bright eyes and tears rolling down your cheeks feeding him. And as if you knew what he wanted, Shouto's knees near bucked out when your mouth took him in even further, the soft choking noise, the feeling of his cock pressing against the back of your throat sending his fingers digging into the wall.

He drilled in faster, grateful for your ability to keep up, the feeling of his cock pressing down the back of your throat sending his jaw flying open, curses and praises spilling past his lips with every inch you took him further down your throat. The area of his cock unable to be taken in your mouth was surrounded by your fingers — by god, what fucking fingers you had — warm and robust, they held his skin, sliding effortlessly against the spit lubricated skin.

"You can hear me right, whore?" Shouto growled against the wall, the hot air of his breath almost fogging the area he was standing in. Somehow, he heard the choked noise of agreement, the bobbing head vigorously nodding, sending you into a sputtering choke from the awkward angle. But Shouto liked hearing you choke, liked hearing the needy tone in your whining agreement, and he swore he was feeling his heartbeat in his balls. "You're not here entirely on your own will, are you? Came here for money, to suck some rich mans' cock?" His hips stammered when you sucked your cheeks in around his length, his eyes rolling in the break of his concentration, his blood pumping in his hormone pumped euphoria. "I want you to fucking choke on my cock, you hear that? Take me all the way in, don't be scared, I know you probably don't see much cock, but I promise if you can handle me, you'll never want other cock, slut. Take me all, and I promise you, you won't regret it."

A hiccuped breath came from your side of the wall, and Shouto almost wanted to simply burn the wall down to claim you for all his need and glory, someone with a mouth as gifted as yours definitely needed to be fucked correctly. Still, his hips reigned down, slamming against the wall so that the thuds of his impeding hips were heard softly in the other areas. 

And you? Behind the wall?

He could feel the weight of your head pressing forward, the feeling of his length sliding further and further down your throat. The pulsing of his cock ridiculously stilled with the restrained muscles of your throat, and the almost excessive drool and spit that dripped from his length with your choking movements.

More, he wanted more, he needed more.

"Fuck, slut, you're taking me so fucking well. You almost have me entirely in your mouth," Shouto growled, an inch or so of his cock still not entirely in your mouth, but not letting your tight fist work his cock. "Don't give up, take me all, I know a whore like you who shows up to be a sex slave can take my cock."

A whine (was that a horny or a frustrated whine?) emitted from the wall, and with a strained noise, Shouto felt your wet, hot lips make contact with the base of his cock as he continued to drill into you. Spluttering groans poured from his throat, the feeling of your hot cavern and resisting throat, sending him over the edge.

"Yes," Shouto gasped, the smell of sex, electricity, and barely burning walls simmering in his nose. "Fuck, yes, just like that."

Shouto could feel his nerves being shot out, the feeling of the compliant mouth keeping him pumping into the hole, his fingers digging further and further into the wall into it cracked and crumbled, his grip trying to keep his shaking legs from giving out, to break through the wall to get to you. He was almost there, so close, but needed to get over the hill. And then Shouto was swallowed completely when his slamming his stopped, he could feel your lip press to his skin hidden by the hole. He had no doubt that it must have been sorely uncomfortable for you, yet you were doing it to the point where he was fumbling for words, fumbling to keep his head on straight as your tongue wrapped around his cock, massaging the skin. Fuck, fuck, "Fuck!"

His head dropped back with the shooting electricity in his blood, sweat dripping from his temple and you, the stranger behind the wall, gave one vicious, strong suck, your mouth only surrounding the head of his cock, your wet tongue flicking the slit on his head, and he was spilling over.

Hot, thick, heavy ropes of white cum spurted from his cock and Shouto shuddered, his shaking breath echoing in his ears, and he could still feel your tongue moving, coaxing out the finality of his orgasm, teeth scraping against his sensitive cock just enough to have him seeing stars.

But the giggle that erupted in your throat was well noticed by Shouto, and he grunted in slight annoyance. Pulling away, a soft, almost unwanted pop echoed on the other side of the wall.

Shouto watched as his spit and cum covered cock pulled back to his side of the wall, and he grunted unwillingly. His forehead still rested against the wall, and he looked up to his left side with a disgruntled noise to see that he did, in fact, scorch his fingertips into the wall.

As he tucked himself back into his underwear and slacks, Shouto's blissed-out eyes fell onto the hole where your hand was perched out of it, your pinky the only finger visible.

"Pinky promise you'll come back later?" your raspy voice asked, and Shouto wondered if that was how you usually sounded or if it was from what happened.

"As long as you promise to do something like that again," Shouto smirked, his pink taking yours anyways.

He could promise that to the hole in the wall.

Shouto slips out the door and is immediately greeted with a bummed out Kaminari and a profusely apologizing Kirishima. He later finds out that Kaminari let out yet another round of voltage of electricity (he's banned from fucking anyone that can't absorb his quirk without damaging themselves), and that Kirishima in his blissed-out state accidentally went into his unbreakable mode and tore a hole into the wall. Shouto didn't bother telling them of the scorched walls and left with his friends.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

It only felt like a few minutes before Shouto found himself outside the same closed door of the room with gloryholes. The alcohol had long since been burned from his system, he is practically positive that you managed to suck it out from his bloodstream.

For the past two hours, he had been around the mansion, aiding Kirishima in his objective to keep Kaminari from accidentally killing a sexual partner. It had been for the best, Shouto believed. He was no prude and definitely didn't hate indulging in the occasional orgies - especially at parties like this. But for some reason, as strangers attempted to shed him from his clothes, lips, and fingers roaming his scarred, heated skin, he thought of you and only you.

Your tantalizing mouth and fingers.

He had exited the orgy room faster than All Might at his peak. 

He was strangely obsessed with a stranger, a person who was no more than someone past a hole in the wall. Who knew if your picture was what you looked like, but he sure hoped it was.

But when Mina had appeared out of nowhere, her perfectly manicured fingers pressing against Kirishima's chest as she emerged from behind him. She was, obviously, one of the few easily discernable members of the cult. 

"So, the crown prince does not know how to use his dick, and I am disappointed in men all over again!" Mina pouted, but her usual sly grin was back on her face before Shouto could ask if she needed help scouting potential 'dick appointments' as she so fondly calls them.

This was where things got strange in that Kirishima pointed out that Mina should just fuck a woman to teach men how to fuck women properly. Kaminari filled Shouto in with a horribly done stage whisper that the two of them had fucked before and that despite the experience of any man, Mina was never truly satisfied. 

"Alright, student Kirishima," Mina had thrust her finger into Kirishima's chest. "Follow me to the hole-y wall and watch the master do her job!"

Once more, Shouto was outside the door, the woman seemingly materialized from thin air in her same powder blue ava tea party dress and ruby red smile. 

"Welcome back! For four patrons this time?" the woman gleefully smiled, her gloved fingers clasping below her chin.

"For one, actually," Mina spoke up first, "I'm teaching these boys—"

"I've actually never had a problem," Shouto spoke up, his calm and collected gaze unwaveringly met the hostess despite the chilling horror and embarrassment of his words that crawled up his spine. At the same time, Mina looked up him and down with a small, small smirk. "I'll be taking a spot."

"Ho ho, well, excuse me," Mina giggled, turning back to the hostess with a brightness to her stance. "Two spots then. I have boys to teach!"

"Of course!" the hostess spoke unaffectedly by the group's dynamics. "Please enjoy yourselves! This part is a special treat for you lovely patrons, don't forget to be mindful of our poor angels stuck in the wall!"

The door opened, and in the group of four walked in.

If Shouto had been taken by surprise the first time, he was beyond belief the second time he entered this same room. His first time coming, there had only been those beautiful glory holes, but this time? There were no material holes.

Where the holes used to be, there were only large holes where the person assigned to the area was now presented to the public.

Asses curved to the sky, asses pointed to the ground. Cocks leaking, limp, and red with overstimulation, cunts soaked, throbbing, and swollen with overuse. It was indeed as if these individuals had been stuck in a wall, and Shouto already felt his cock twitch in his carnal lust and need to see just how you were positioned. How he prayed that you were at your spot, laying on your stomach, ass hanging out to the world waiting for his cock to claim you, waiting for him to ruin you. He wanted to feel your liquid lust drip from your cunt, splashing and trailing down your inner thigh.

Shouto didn't bother saying goodbye to his friends, the smell of sex, and his own lust switching his brain onto a one-track mindset with the growing need to get to you immediately. 

And almost to his raging hormonal anger, he came to the aisle where you were parked, and while his heart hammered with the growing pleasure to see your ass hanging in the air, your thighs pressed to the wall, his vision turned red at the sight of some no-named man rutting his ugly cock between your dry folds.

In no time flat, Shouto was behind the man, his hand fisting into the collar of the man's shirt and tearing him away from him.

"Mine." he all but growled, his aura darkening while he glared at the red-faced idiot who attempted to cover himself up in the act of running away.

It didn't matter that what Shouto did was probably entirely rude and could result in him getting thrown out, you were his, and no way was someone going to fuck you when he was there. The weirded out gazes that fell upon him temporarily did nothing to Shouto, his focus back onto your squirming bottom, no doubt weirded out by the sudden lack of contact.

But with a sigh, his fingers combing the few falling free strands of hair out of his face, Shouto stood centimeters from your shifting thighs, watching you continue squirming until he finally moved. His hands pressed against your supple, smooth ass, enjoying the way you fit against his hands perfectly. 

He stepped forward, allowing the bulge of his strained cock to press against the top of your ass — the perfect height for him. Shouto leaned forward, his forehead once more pressing against the cold wall, his eyes taking in the still visible scorch marks he had left behind and chuckled deep in his throat.

"I'm back, my precious whore, I bet you missed me," Shouto spoke through the wall, hoping that you would respond back to him. He thought he could hear an agreeing sound on the other side of the wall, another layer of muffled, and he wondered if maybe you had been gagged. The thought made him exhale slowly, his hips strained from rutting against you, but against his belief, your ass ground against his hardening cock, sending waves of pleasure through him. "You did miss me, huh?"

His calloused fingers moved from your supple ass to the outsides of your thighs, feather-soft touches skimming your skin, leaving behind trails of goosebumps and twitching nerves. Shouto's gaze remained hard on your body, watching how you completely stilled when he found his fingers against the inner part of your thigh and just shy of the excessive heat that was radiating from your cunt.

And he leaned down, his lips pressing against the curve of your ass, his eyes partially hooded when he felt you relax against his hold. But the relaxed position you held quickly erased the moment his teeth sunk into your skin, and his finger pressed against your swollen clit. 

Immediately, your body arched, a weak attempt to buck out of his hold while he heard a muffled cry from the other end of the wall. But Shouto was a hero, he was some with extreme control over his body, and as his tongue moved to soothe your throbbing ass, one finger continued to delicately dance against your clit, while the other shifted over to your softly beating cunt. 

Shouto groaned against your skin, his pants feeling too tight, the material of his underwear too hot and stiff for how strained his cock was right now, yet it was nothing to the feeling of your tight, wet, hot cunt. In and out, he pumped his finger, curling the long digit against your puffy spongey walls, the thumb on your clit circulating in slow, intentional figure-eights until you were pathetically rising and falling against his finger, a garbled whine for more barely audible through the wall. He chuckled at the feeling of your inner walls forcible clenching against his intruding finger, and he rewarded you with a second finger.

"Doesn't this feel good?" Shouto groaned, his body straightening back up so that he was flushed against your ass, his forehead resting on the wall, and his now free hand slowly grinding your ass against his crotch.

He watched you with the intensity of a predator stalking their prey, his mouth twitching into a smirk when your toes curled with a sudden drag of his fingers over a ribbed area of your core. Growling in need, Shouto's hips slammed into you, mindlessly fucking you even with his clothes on. His fingers doubled in speed and intensity until the rapid clenching of your walls was unignorable around his fingers.

His forearms ached slightly with his continued fingering, his thumb almost stiff as he continued to assault your clit, but with the arching of your back, the stuttering of your hips as an impeding orgasm was growing bigger and stronger. Shouto barely registered the sight of his own hand rising and falling heavily onto your ass, the sound of the spank echoing loudly, but that had pushed you over the edge.

A loud mewl sounded from the wall, your legs trembling entirely uncontrollably against Shouto, who still drove his hard crotch into your soaked cunt. He didn't care if you were to wet the expensive suit, his mind now solely on the fact that he needs to claim you, needs to sink his cock all the way in, and make sure you were bruised for days to come. 

Wasting no time, Shouto sheds off his pants and his underwear, letting them fall to the floor with a soft thud before aligning his already hard and swollen cock head to your clenching, sopping cunt. Shouto nearly shivers as he grips his fingers into your ass, his eyes mesmerized with how your flesh molds to his grasp, moving and shifting accordingly. With only a moan as a warning, Shouto wasted no time in pressing his cock to your cunt, and thrusting in with a single, sharp thrust.

If he had thought your cunt was tight with just your fingers, if he had thought the instance where you had vacuumed your mouth while sucking him off was tight, he was in a world of surprises when he came through from entering you. Your cunt was hot and oh so fucking tight around him, milking him dry of all and any precum that he had gathered at his swollen slit. Your inner walls flutter around him, intensely and quickly trying to adjust to the monstrous thickness that he was, and he could hear the pained panting pleasure of you through the wall, and he almost lost it at the keen whine on your tongue.

He shifted, moving his hips just so slight as to regain what little sanity he had left to ensure that you were thoroughly and roughly fucked. 

"Fuck," Shouto moaned, his fingers digging bruises into your skin, his skin feeling sticky and sweaty as he felt you continue trembling beneath him. "For a fucking whore, you have a really tight cunt. I bet you wished I had used fucking lube, huh?"

Shouto took a tentative thrust into you, his legs quivering at the feeling of the way your cunt gripped his cock, making it almost impossible for him to move as he did. "Should've made your pussy wetter then," he spoke in a near whisper to the wall, unsure if you had heard him as he began his conquest in fucking you.

With his fingers gripping your hips, he enjoys the way you bruise against his hold, almost as much as he enjoys the way the wall rocks with every slam of his brutal hips.

The sounds of his cock slamming into your sopping cunt send loud, wet noises ringing in his ears, sending a few other nearby patrons to turn their heads to look at him - to look at him in his conquest of claiming you as his. It only fueled him on, and he picked up his pace until there was a medley of sounds: his thighs crashing against your ass, the squelching of your wet cunt against his thick cock, and your thighs slapping the wall. 

Shouto growled at the feeling of your cunt stretching for him, the tremble of your legs, the way your feet twisted and curled against his knees, almost as if in a silent beg to get him impossibly closer, to make him fuck you impossibly faster, harder. 

His gorging fingers break your skin, and Shouto delights in the painful, garbled scream from your side of the wall. Your body is weak against him, yet he can still feel your hips jutting against his rutting hips, your body desperately trying to keep up with his insane speed and lust.

And when his hand presses to your lower back and the other right above your crotch so that he can raise you higher, the new angle of penetration sends Shouto fumbling for strength. It's then he can feel the head of his cock pressing against your cervix, your toes digging into his skin as he continues to pound away at your cervix, and he takes the rolling shrieks and moans from your mouth like a good thing. 

"Such a good fucking whore, I never found many of you who enjoyed when I literally rearranged their guts," Shouto huffed, his fingers tweaking and yanking at your clit until you were shaking in his arms. "You're enjoying this so much, I bet you wanted this the entire time after I left, didn't you? You wanted my cock in your pussy, I wanted to have my seed pumped into you until everyone knows that you're mine. You'd look so pretty pregnant with my babies, your stomach swollen, and your tits just fucking leaking milk for our children, huh?"

It's then that your cunt around his cock becomes a vice grip, and Shouto shudders at the feeling of your orgasm rocking through you, your pathetic keens barely audible in his blood rushing ears. And he continues, Shouto could feel the familiar sensation of his nerves being shot out, the feeling of your cunt desperately trying to milk him of his seed and worth as you grew limper in his arms, his fingers raking raised lines against your ass, forever marking himself against you, his grip trying to keep his shaking legs from giving out, his mind solidifying over the need to somehow appear where you were now so he could fuck you with no restraint. He thought of your crossed eye gaze, the possible spit pouring from your mouth as you took his every drop of seed greedily into your cunt. He imagined seeing your eyes spilling with tears, seeing your fingers rip into the fabric as he fucked you with no restraint, and with his imagination, he lost himself.

Shouto continued to blindly ram his cock into your cunt, a savage, insane last attempt to spill himself into you, fumbling to keep his head on straight as your cunt pathetically clenched against his hammering cock, finally sending his left hand to the wall, fire bursting from his palm as finally his orgasm tears through him. Shit, shit, "Shit!"

Shouto's temples are damp with sweat, and his vision swims with his overwhelming desire for you and the need to get to your room without destroying the wall to completion.

He picks up his pants and underwear, quickly fixing himself up so that he's almost remorse in the way that he can't appreciate watching his cum spill from your cunt, but the lack of you on his cock is enough to have him zipping up his pants and racing to where the hostess appears.

She doesn't stand a chance when both fire and ice bite against her neck.

"How do I get into the rooms?"

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

After being caught flirting with whoever you had pinky promised, you had been gagged. It wasn't a bad thing per se, that man had been the last person to visit you when the room was still functioning as glory holes. With the new stuck in the wall theme, it only invited men and women to be aggressive, and a part of you guiltily and ashamedly enjoyed how rough they would get in there attempt to hear you against the gag.

But you couldn't help the flutter in your cunt and in your heart when the familiar voice of the pinky promise man sounded through the wall. Right now, however, your body felt wholly and thoroughly used. Every inch of your asscheeks and cunt was abused, but the orgasm that came with his fucking was otherwordly. 

There was still nothing to prevent the shameful clog in your throat when he abandoned you after a single orgasm, but then again, you didn't expect the door to your cubicle to be thrown open, and a man stood there with a black kitsune mask. You wondered who it was, but there was the distinctive, infamous red and split white hair behind the cover, and you whimpered at the sudden shame at being caught like this by a Pro Hero you absolutely adored. 

The mask was torn from his face, the door closing behind him, and you were ripped back into the tight cubicle, pressed flush against his chest as he sealed off the hole with his ice. You were speechless as his obviously hard cock pressed against your diaphragm, and you trembled upon hearing the zipper of his pants coming down.

And the voice of one Todoroki Shouto sent shivers down your spine, reigniting the flame in your cunt.

"I got to fuck your mouth and your cunt through other people's rules, I think it's about time I get to fuck you however I see fit."

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Like Mother, Like Daughter

Warnings: noncon/rape, mentions of prostitution, bullying/humiliation, coercion.

This is dark!Lee Bodecker and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You bail your mother out but you still owe the sheriff.

Based on these drabble requests:

Lee Bodecker + “I could crush your throat right now.” + Humiliation/bullying + y/n is the daughter of the town's hooker, but she is nothing like her mother, everyone is mean to her just because her mom's work . Lee have fun with her just bc for him she is the same trash as her mother. requested by anonymous.

You could still smell the alcohol on your mother. Her hair and clothes stank of it and the stale piss of the county jail cell. It made your eyes water, just like the glares of the townsfolk as you left the precinct.

They all knew, it was a small place, how could they not? They saw you almost every week bringing your ma out those doors, another twenty dollars to the station to set her free so she could do it all again. The same spite and disgust in their stares, the same judgment bearing down on you like a coyote on a barn cat.

“What happened to the grocery store?” you asked your ma quietly, “you said you wouldn’t do this no more. You don’t need to, ma. We got food, a roof--”

“Johnny Hatton gave me a whole bottle of whiskey,” she said, her voice still thick from the alcohol, “and for what, five minutes with my hand.”

“I don’t need to hear that,” you scowled and kept your head down as Gerry, the butcher, spat at your feet as you passed, “you want some drink, I can buy you drink, ma, but you shouldn’t be gettin’ so drunk, neither.”

“Gail fired me,” she grumbled and you kept her up before she could tumble, “found the bottle in my bag. Now I was gon’ pay for it before I left--”

You sighed and came to a stop at the corner as a car drove in front of you. You waited and watched the tail light. You took a step off the curb and nearly hit the side of the cruiser as it pulled up. The sheriff bent to meet your eye from the other end of the seat and you clung to your mother.

“Need a ride?” he asked.

“She just got out, sheriff, we’re just on our way home,” you said quietly. It was often Sheriff Bodecker who signed over your ma to you but that morning had been a cadet.

“Easier with some wheels under ya,” he said.

You sniffed and looked around. He was never overly friendly, the stern officer and his wide-brimmed hat put fear into most around, even when they hadn’t committed an offense. And like many in the town, he laughed at your ma and you, even asked you once or twice if you took after her.

“It’s not far,” you said, “but I appreciate the offer.”

“Nonsense,” his door swung open and he closed it heavily, “lemme help ya.” He came around and opened the back door, “you put her in here and take the front. She’s barely on her feet,” he took your mother’s other arm and angled her under the roof of the car, “whew, she smell like a sill.”

You held your tongue as your mother slumped across the leather and he shut the door. You stared at the side of the car and he touched your arm, “go on and get in, missy.”

You drew away from him and he pulled open the door. You ducked your head down and sat on the passengers side. He got in beside you and drove back out onto the street, easing into the sleepy small town traffic.

You were quiet; nervous. You didn’t know the sheriff to be a generous man, no one would ever say that of him. Your ma had sown a lot of discord in the town and you were no stranger to the bitterness that you inherited. Of all the people, Sheriff Bodecker should be most offended by her back alley antics.

“What’s a matter, missy?” he asked as he steered.

You shook your head and stared out the window. He stopped and tutted.

“Ya know, a lawman ask you a question and you should answer,” he warned, “now why you so quiet?”

“I don’t talk much, sir,” you shrugged.

“But you got a tongue,” he said, “and you fidgeting something awful over there.”

“I… just don’t know why you offer a ride,” you muttered, “ain’t no one round let my ma in their backseat, no even for a dime.”

“You looked like you needed help. I’m the sheriff, my job is to help,” he drove on and turned down your street.

“I suppose,” you said, “thank you.”

“See, now was that so hard?” he asked, “a thank you’s all I wanted.”

He pulled up in front of the ramshackle house you and your ma lived in. You got out without thinking and opened the back door. The other side opened and he grabbed your ma and dragged her out with his arms under hers. You tried to catch her ankle but he had her on her feet quickly, though she was swaying and half-unconscious.

“You show me where to put her,” he said as he kicked the door shut.

“I can take her,” you came around to him, “thank you, sheriff.”

“Nah, you go on and get the door, I can handle her a lot better than you, missy,” he said, “got a bit more brute in me.”

You held in a sigh and went around him. He turned and followed you up the slanted steps and you unlocked the front door. He lifted her feet and carried her over the threshold. You didn’t want him coming too far in so you backed up and watched him enter the front room.

“Just there on the sofa,” you pointed to the sagging cushions, “that’s fine.”

“Alright,” he crossed the room and put her down, he dusted off his hands on his pants as he stood straight. 

He looked around and removed his hat, his fingertips tapping on his pudgy stomach as he mused at the pale interior. He clicked his tongue and turned to you again.

“Well, I know your ma ain’t much of a housekeeper but it only polite to offer a guest something to drink,” he said, “something for my trouble.”

You put your purse on the chest of drawers by the door and crossed your arms. You teetered on the balls of your feet.

“I got milk or tea, sheriff,” you said, “tap water?”

“Tea,” he said, “I wouldn’t mind something to warm me up.”

You nodded and slipped past him. You went to the kitchen and moved the kettle onto the burner. You turned on the gas and heard his boots on the floor as he appeared in the doorframe. You looked up at him and carried on, searching for some leaves in the cupboard.

You sensed him getting closer and he came up behind you. His arms snaked under yours as you reached up and moved aside the cans and boxes. He cupped your tits and pushed you against the counter. You dropped your hands to his and tried to tear them away from your chest.

“What’re you doin’?” you gasped as you wrestled with him.

“I’d say you owe me,” he rocked you against the counter, “wouldn’t you?”

“Please, let go of me,” you begged, “I’m makin’ you tea--”

“I don’t want tea,” his hand crawled down and he yanked at your skirt, “like mother like daughter, huh? You know how to pay a man.”

“Stop,” you slapped his hand and he ignored you.

He spun your around and your head swam from the suddenness of it. He scooped you up easily and sat you on the counter as he pushed between your knees. He shoved your skirt up as you fought to keep the hem down. You kicked out around him as he reached for your knickers.

“Sheriff!” you cried out.

“You wan’ wake your ma?” he growled, “let her know she taught you well? If she can even be woke.”

He snickered and tore your underwear down your legs, moving back only to get them past your ankles. He slid quickly between your legs again and pulled your closer. He grabbed your jaw and squeezed as his other hand fumbled with his belt. You whined and writhed against him.

“Now, you stay still,” his hand went to his holster, “don’t make me do anything rash, missy. I could crush your throat right now.”

“Please, sheriff,” you grabbed his wrist as he held your chin.

“You already beggin’ me, missy,” he pushed his zipper down and stepped closer as he pulled himself out above his underwear, “now let’s not get too loud or you’ll be disturbin’ the neighbours.”

He poked against your cunt as he slid you closer and reached between you to line himself up. He pushed into you with a sharp thrust and you exclaimed. His grip tightened on your jaw as your lips parted and he covered your mouth with his.

He tilted his hips painfully against you, lifting you slightly off the counter as he did. He nibbled your lip as his hand wandered down to grope your chest again. His breath hitched as he fucked you and you were surrounded by his heat. You quivered as each crash of his pelvis hurt worse than the last.

“That’s it, missy,” he purred and bent your leg around him, “just like that. Move them hips, girl.”

[thedilucharem]

Beidou’s Woes Against Mondstadt’s ‘Divinity’: Part III

Beidou regrettably files for personal bankruptcy. (Written as of 2.5 being out)

Two captains, a ‘nun’, a bard, and a privateer, walk into Angel’s Share for an impromptu meeting of what I like to call ‘High-Functioning Alcoholics Anonymous’. At the bar table, Beidou is sandwiched in the middle of Kaeya and Venti with Rosaria next to her usual drinking buddy and Eula taking a seat next to the bard that slanders her family daily through song - much to her delight.

Kaeya: - and then he was just sitting there! Honestly, it was one of the funniest things I ever saw! (laughing)

Eula: (slurs) Holy shit. (hic) What . . . what an idiot. (chugs her third round of beer)

Rosaria: (shakes her head in bemusement) That doesn’t even make any sense.

Venti: (chuckling to himself) Considering the pocket change involved, you could say that it makes perfect ‘cents’, wouldn’t you agree?

The Cryo users groan simultaneously as Venti and Beidou shriek with laughter.

Beidou: (wipes a tear from her eye as she gives Venti a heart slap on the back) You’re an absolute riot! (boisterously) Charles! A round for my new friends and an extra one for the small green man!

Charles: (sighs deeply as he makes the drinks and passes them out) You know I’m going to have to cut you lot off soon.

Eula: (sniffs and sloppily waves her hand in dismissal) I’m not even that drunk. (paws at the full pint of beer)

Rosaria: (rolls her eyes) Please. (takes her glass of wine) You make Alberich look sober with how much beer you’ve had in the past hour. 

Kaeya: (chides) Oh, come now dear Sister. Such an accusation must have some reasonable basis. (sips his drink petulantly) I’ve only had two Death After Noons.

Venti: (tries not to wince as he snorts and takes a swig of his glass of wine) Yeah, two Death After Noons in fifteen minutes.

Kaeya: (glares shrewdly at Venti) Hmph! Well, I will have you know that I needed it today. (turns away from him) 

Venti: Oh, come on, Sir Kaeya! (teasing) I was only saying so in jest, no need to give me the cold shoulder. 

Cue Venti and Beidou losing their minds again as all the Cryo users wonder why they didn’t drink by themselves tonight.

Rosaria: (finishes her wine and sets down some mora) I have things to do. 

Kaeya: (overembellished mock hurt) Rosa? How could you even consider abandoning me at a time of need? (dramatically throws a hand over his visible eye) I’m hurt.

Rosaria: (low) I can hardly call objectively terrible puns from a drunken bard a ‘time of need’. Also (lightly pokes Eula’s flushed cheek) either get her sober enough to walk home or I’m going to tell the Outrider to get her myself.

Eula: (doesn’t notice Rosaria’s pointed finger) (slurs) I’m . . . (hic) I’m just fine. (burps in a closed fist) Just need some more beer. (finishes the beer) Aw, fuck. It’s (hic) gone.

Rosaria: (exhales sardonically) Case in point. (gets up and begins to walk out)

Venti: Aw, leaving already? (cheerfully) May the winds of Barbatos watch over you, Sister Rosaria!

Kaeya: (sing-song like) I hope your nightly work isn’t too taxing tonight ~

Eula: (just waves in Rosaria’s general direction as she rings up yet another beer)

Rosaria: Yeah, yeah, see you around, fuckers. (lingering in the doorway of the tavern as she says to Beidou) You’re loud, brash, and obnoxious, but tolerable.

Beidou: (finally catches her breath and salutes in a friendly good bye) It was a real pleasure meeting you too, Rosie. Take care of yourself! 

Rosaria: (bristles but nods) (quiet, but loud enough to be heard) I always do. (leaves the tavern)

Kaeya: (long whistle) Well damn, she must really like you, Captain.

Beidou: (snorts and raises her eyebrow) Why do you say so, Captain? 

Eula: (groans into her fourth pint of beer) That stupid joke (hic) stopped being funny (hic) after the first . . . five times.

She’s right and I agree with her. 

Kaeya: (sniggers) The last time I tried calling her Rosie, I nearly died. (sips his third drink) I can’t imagine why or how she didn’t eviscerate you on the spot.

Beidou: (shrugs) Can’t say that I know the answer to that. (takes a long swig out of her mead) She’s nice enough.

Venti: (swinging his legs rhythmically) I can’t help but agree with you, Captain Beidou! (hums melodically to himself) Though I must say that Rosaria has quite the thorny disposition. (snickers as he starts to finish off another wine glass) 

Eula: (sniffles) Why . . . why is it empty? (legitimately forlorn) I just (hic) wanted a (hic) drink- (collapses on the tabletop with her head buried in her hands) It’s not (hic) fair . . .

Beidou: (hesitantly grasps Eula’s shoulder) . . . you good there? 

Eula: (moans quietly and unintelligibly) Why . . . couldn’t I have been born an orphan? 

Kaeya: (tsks under his breath) Oh dear, it seems that our dear Captain Eula is done for the night. (reaches over and lightly shakes her) Unfortunately, the time for drinking and company for her has run it’s course.

Eula: (protests loudly) Mmngh. (slowly tries to get up on unsteady feet) ‘m fine.

Kaeya: (watching closely) Mmm, but you have another mission in a day or two, do you not?

Eula: (glares coldly, before conceding) . . . you do have a (hic) point, I suppose. (sways as she stands) 

Beidou: (waves over) Charles, some water over here?

Charles: (already sliding down a tall glass of water in the group’s general direction)

Beidou: (catches it) (to Eula) Drink some of this, yeah? It’ll be good for you.

Eula: (takes the water and chugs it) Bleugh. (blinks rapidly) It’s terrible. (sighs after a beat of silence) I . . . should be heading (small cough) back to my quarters. 

Kaeya: Mhm. Would you like me to accompany you back?

Beidou: (casually) It wouldn’t bother any of us to, ya know.

Eula: (waves her hand dismissively) No need . . . no need. (begins to walk away from the bar table, setting down some mora)

Venti: (wipes his mouth with his sleeve) Heading out, Miss Eula? (takes off his hat and waves it in the air) May the breezes carry you safely home.

Eula: (nods as she exits the tavern) (sticks her hand through the doorway) Good night to you all. (turns to Beidou) Except you. Your choice in drinks are awful. Hmph. (leaves the tavern proper)

Kaeya: (blinks) Did . . . did she not know that it was water?

Venti: (innocently turns to Beidou and cocks his head to the side) I dunno, but that look she gave you positively chilled me to the bone! (shrieking laughter)

Kaeya suffers as our duo of terrible puns and jokes continue to laugh their asses off.

Kaeya: (rolls his eye at Venti as he finishes his drink) If I didn’t find comraderie with you, I’d have left already. 

Venti: (still giggling as he scoots closer and presses into Kaeya’s side) Oh, come now, Sir Kaeya! I will have you know that I am absolutely hilarious. 

Kaeya: (sighs through his nose) I will say that you are an excellent bard, Venti, but you’re not as much of a comedian as you think you are.

Venti: Ah, but Sir Kaeya, I’ve managed to get a rise out of your pirate friend!

Beidou: (still laughing her ass off as she is on the floor, rolling) 

Kaeya: (snorts halfheartedly) How insufferable.

Another round of drinks later, things are starting to wind down.

Kaeya: (genuinely shocked) Well, that was an interesting tale. I wasn’t aware that a sea serpent could even bend in that direction.

Beidou: I didn’t know either until I saw it for myself. (finishes the last of her drink) You know, if you ever want to come see all sorts of crazy things on the high seas, I’d be happy to take you on.

Kaeya: (idly traces his finger on an empty glass) I would love to join you, but alas, I have my own duties and happenings here already. (chuckles warmly) Besides, two captains on a single ship seems tenuous, does it not?

Beidou: Pfft. (reaches out and ruffles Kaeya’s hair) Whatever you say.

Kaeya: (pouts, but doesn’t stop Beidou from doing so) Och, watch the hair, will ya? It took years for that lovelock to grow out.

Venti: (slurs, slumped over, still clutching a wine glass) Dandelion wine . . . (laughs drunkenly) tastes the same as I remember . . . (hic) but everyone I know who’d have it with me . . . (hic) is dead.

Kaeya: (looks at the multiple empty wine bottles next to Venti before turning to Venti) Friend, do you not think that you’ve had enough dandelion wine? Why, I fear that you may have drunk straight through most of this season’s brew.

Beidou: (whistles appreciatively at the stack of bottles) Holy fuck, that’s a lot of alcohol for such a little dude.

Kaeya: (gives a small laugh) You wouldn’t be saying that if you saw him during the Windblume Festival. I heard it was about *56 glasses of wine he drank?

Beidou: (visibly shocked) How is he not dead?

Kaeya: (shakes his head) The bartender asks themselves the same question every time he doesn’t stop at five glasses.

Venti: (attempts to lift up his head) (hic) Another round . . . perhaps? 

Kaeya: (tuts at Venti) I personally wouldn’t recommend it. You would want to let the wine breathe a bit before drinking it, no?

Venti: (scrunches up his face in thought) Mm. (hic) On second thought . . . (hic) I think I would like to (hic) compose a ballad. (hums in thought) To what though? (hic) It will come to me in time . . .

Venti summons a lyre, only to promptly set it down on the bar table, and then collapse.

Beidou: (blinks) Is he-

Kaeya: (waves his hand dismissively) He’s fine. Give him five minutes and he’ll be recovered enough to drink another bottle of wine. Regardless of that . . . (sighs to himself) I believe I must be going now. 

Beidou: (nods) It is getting kind of late, huh. I’ll probably be heading out soon too. (grins) I had a great time! The drinks always go down easier with good company.

Kaeya: (fondly) I truly did enjoy our time together in each other’s company as well! (genuinely) It was the most fun I’ve had in a while, actually. (gets up with drunken flourish) But alas, all good things must come to an end at some point in time, for if life wasn’t so bitter, we would not be able to relish in the occasional sweetness it brings. (sets down a generous amount of mora)

Venti: (from his slumped form, mutters) Cheers . . . I’ll drink to that.

Kaeya: (with a hint of genuine sadness) I bid you adieu. Until next time, from one Captain to another. (makes his way to walk out)

Beidou: (salutes) Stay safe out there, Captain.

Kaeya: (through the doorway) Are we really at the end of the day? (leaves the tavern proper)

Beidou gets to ruminate on that loaded comment along with her three previous companions for all but a few moments before Venti becomes lucid enough for conversation yet again. So they chat for a little while longer, sing a shanty or two and Beidou has a few stanzas composed in honor of her voyages before something interesting comes up in the exchange.

Venti: (blearily) Mngh. (yawns) Well, it seems that the lull of sleep is trying to whisk me away. (giggles to himself) But this night, I find that sweet words and good company keep the nod at bay.

Beidou: (groggily) Well said, my friend. Well said. (plops a weighty bag of mora) But unfortunately, I actually gotta get goin’ now. (stretches and pops some creaks in her joints) 

Venti: (turns to her) Mind if I join you for a little stroll, just a few minutes or so? I’d really hate to think of you alone going to your abode.

Beidou: (shrugs) If you want to. (gets off the stool)

Venti: (hops from his stool) Wonderful! Well come on, my friend, into the night! We cannot waste the precious moonlight! (makes to walk out)

Beidou: (raises her eyebrow in confusion) Do . . . bards not have to pay for drinks or something?

Venti: (stops in his tracks) Ehh. (looks to the five bottles stacked neatly where he sat) You would think that my songs and presence would be payment more than enough, but in retrospect, I didn’t think I would take to this season’s bottle that much. (shudders) Even considering the drinks I snag and grab, it pales in comparison to the oppressive tab . . .

Beidou: (casually) Don’t worry about it.

Venti: (surprised) Huh?

Beidou: (turns to him) For you, it’s on me.

Venti: (gratefully) Really? Tab and all?

Beidou: (nods) Yup. *Tab and all.

You would think that after seeing how much Venti drank and allegedly drank per according to several eye-witnesses, Beidou wouldn’t have agreed to do this.

Venti: (grabs her hand and shakes it fervently) My dearest thanks my good friend! I’ll repay you with a tale- no an epic to the adventures and stories that will never end!

Beidou: (laughs) It’s fine, I’m just helping you out a bit.

Charles: (struggles to speak at all and eventually gives up trying to, only sighing deeply as they both walk out the door) 

A few weeks later in Guyun Stone Forest, Beidou, and Kazuha are chatting on the railing of the Alcor when Mora-Grubber comes up to hand her a piece of paper and assumedly discuss it’s contents.

Mora-Grubber: (head lowered) I apologize if I’m interrupting anything Captain, but this is kinda important.

Beidou: (nonchalantly) Nah, it’s okay. (to Kazuha) Sorry kid, it was starting to get pretty good.

Kazuha: Please, there’s no need for you to be. (curiously) However, I would feel quite delighted if we could continue this story at a later time tonight, if that’s alright with you? 

Beidou: (claps him on the shoulder) Of course, you don’t have to ask! 

Kazuha: (gives a small smile) Okay! (begins to make his way to the crow’s nest)

Beidou: (turns to Mora-Grubber) Alright, so what’s the issue?

Mora-Grubber: This, Captain. (hands her a paper)

Beidou: Huh? (sees the paper) What about my personal taxes? There’s not some fine I forgot to pay, is there?

Mora-Grubber: Not fines, no, but if you look here and here . . . (points to a few things circled in ink)

Beidou: (focuses on those) Okay, so I have the deduction here and then we have the foreign sales tax . . . (eye widens significantly) and over three million mora? (clamps her mouth shut and breathes in heavily)

Mora-Grubber: Captain?

Beidou: (clamps her eye shut and exhales briskly) No, no, you’re fine, but (struggles to articulate) . . . how?

Mora-Grubber: (slowly) Well, Captain, the grand total of 3,875,325 mora is the baseline for what is being taxed, so . . . you’ll actually be paying more than that.

Beidou: (pauses) . . . really now. Huh. 

Mora-Grubber: (uncharacteristically nervous) I mean, I could run these tax forms and crunch the numbers again-

Beidou: (lightly) No, that number sounds about right. (sighs deeply) Well, I guess I gotta head on into town and meet with some folks . . . (groans) Wow. So I’m pretty much-

Mora-Grubber: Bankrupt? Yeah. Already submitted the paperwork for that.

Beidou: (sighs deeply) By the Archons . . .

Mora-Grubber: (pats her shoulder with the intent of comfort) I’ll run the numbers again just to be sure that there ain’t anything fishy with this. Don’t worry, Captain, I’ll get to the bottom of this! (to herself as she walks away) I didn’t know someone could get the wholesale tax slammed on them like that . . .

The picture of a certain Tianquan cackling as she looks through the bankruptcy filings only serves to sour Beidou’s mood even further after the fact.

---

Note: The characterization for this one was a little rougher than I would like after going over it a couple of times, especially for Venti and Kaeya, but I hope to get better in the future because the rhyming bit was fun as hell and honest Kaeya is refreshing to think about.

*The wiki says that Venti can take at least 37 glasses, but it never clarifies if that was the limit, only suggesting that he could totally go more. So he does.

*Also, the way I figured out the tab was with these numbers: Each bottle would be about $22 retail, but he canonically takes it by the glass. Each wine bottle has about five glasses worth in it and each glass would be about $15 each per according to what the average is and the quality of the wine itself, not including tips. This, combined with how much Venti drinks (minimum of two bottles per visit) and converted into mora ($1 = ~163 mora) is astronomical at best and unfathomable at worst. 

The total is bigger than that, but an average of six bottles a week is plausible for Venti. And generous to his character, considering it’s likely more and that his gnosis was responsible for his disturbing lack of alcohol poisoning.

(inspired by Beidou's lore concerning how she conducts herself, wacky hijinks and mishaps that can be assumed in respective character lore and content, and a minimal amount of taxes and business law)

[rattyoakenbitch]

youtubers: “don’t touch her” ₊˚ ⸝  corpse husband x reader

❝i don't wanna think about, think about you. drink up, drink up i'm so fucked up, all i want is you.❞

gif credit: n/a song: lykke li - sex money feelings die

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

pairings: corpse husband x reader

warnings: angst, cursing, drinking, smoking, violent language, and minor mentions of anxiety.

summary: i can’t make summaries rn hhh just read it (:

“Sean, there is no way in hell I’m going!”

“Oh, come on, Y/N. It’ll be fun!”

“That’s what you always say!”

“Ugh, you and Corpse are so stubborn. At least I was able to convince him to show up! You know what you need? To get out of the house more often and come hang with us.”

“Uh huh, yeah, y’all have fun, I got some stuff to finish.”

“Yeah? Like what? Your ten hour nap?”

“HEY! Excuse me -”

“7PM, [club address], you’re showing up.”

“Sean - !”

With that, Sean hung up. You let out an exasperated huff, crossing your arms and pouting like a toddler who was just denied a toy. You were invited, or more accurrately forced to celebrate whatever the hell Sean and his friends achieved. With lives like theirs, it seemed like there was always something to celebrate. 

You, on the other hand.. Well, you were just little old you. You met Sean by mere chance. It’s a very long story, but you shared some things in common, like your love for video games. However, that was about the only thing you could relate to with Sean and his little friend circle. You were more passionate about writing, as well as reading short horror stories. 

Now, that’s where you clicked with Corpse Husband. 

He was an underrated YouTuber, whose main uploads were narration videos on creepypastas and horror stories. That’s until he blew up with his Among Us gameplays, collaborating with big names like PewDiePie, Jacksepticeye, and CrankGamePlays (EEF!!!).

You met over an Among Us stream with said YouTubers and immediately hit it off. You shared a dark sense of humor, love for horror, and music. You knew of Corpse before, but only then did you discover that he produced music, which you absolutely enjoyed (and blasted in your house for days on end).

When you found out you lived not even twenty minutes away from each other, you’d occasionally meet up, mostly at his house considering he only went out once in a blue moon. You’d sometimes even spend the night at his place, staying up late, gazing up at the stars, getting deep into conversation and opening up about things you never blurted out to people. But when you were with Corpse, everything just came naturally. You felt safe with him, and hopefully, he felt the same. 

Night approached, the clock striking 5PM. You figured you’d get ready since Sean was dead set on you coming to the party. You showered, did a minimalist glossy makeup look, and chose an outfit, which consisted of a half neon green and black skirt that stopped mid thigh, and an oversized distressed band tee which you tucked into your belt. You slipped on a pair of ripped, striped thigh-highs with mismatched colors, (white stripes on one and neon blue on the other), and your platform boots that made you look like a Bratz Doll. You didn’t bother with your tangled hair. You teased it with a brush but didn’t put any effort into styling it, since it’d get messy anyways. To finish your look, you clipped on a choker and dangled a couple of layered chains around your neck.

Corpse would tease you, saying you had a “dog collar”, but you knew he secretly liked it.

All dolled up and ready to go, you hopped into your car and followed the GPS to the address Sean sent you. Drunk couples stumbled out of the club, dates headed inside, and old wasted guys were thrown out. Oh boy, you were not ready for this.

You were the anxious, anti social type. Not because it was edgy or cool, but you simply didn’t know how to handle social situations. However, it comforted you to know Corpse would be there by your side so you didn’t need to chat and flirt with strangers. 

It’s not like you wanted to meet anybody new, anyways. Though nobody was aware of it, you had feelings for Corpse. Cliche, right? You knew you shouldn’t have, but you developed feelings for him. It made you feel strange and weird, considering you haven’t caught feelings in a while.

You came up with the bright idea of slowly drifting away from Corpse to maybe help de-escalate these feelings, but you were going to run into him at the club, so what the heck.

You headed inside, your eyes scanning the crowd and pushing through, searching for your friend group. You spent a couple minutes cluelessly looking around the club, but to no avail. Then, it was as if a light bulb clicked on over your head; you never thought to phone Sean.

“Ugh, I’m so stupid.” You reached into your purse to get ahold of your phone when a pair of strong, manly hands and cold metal which you assumed to be rings wrapped around your shoulders, gripping you tightly. 

“Boo!” 

You felt your heart stop and ran out of the man’s grasp, spinning around to look at who it was.

“Oh, did I scare you?” 

The man’s deep, monotone voice rumbled above the sound of the music and shouts. Then you recognized that unique and distinctive voice. 

“Corpse!! What the hell?”

His nose and jaw was covered by a black mask, with a print that looked like Frank from Donnie Darko, which was also Corpse’s signature look, seen in his channel art. 

Despite Corpse being a faceless YouTuber, only very few people have seen his face, including you and Glam&Gore who he featured in his narration videos. You thought he was very handsome, his baritone voice matching his appearance. You had to admit, you were a little disappointed he chose to wear a mask. You loved seeing his facial expressions, especially his precious smile that would light up the room when he’d let out little fits of laughter. But you got over it and respected the fact that he wanted to remain anonymous.

“You dickhead,” you scoffed, smacking Corpse lightly on the shoulder. Corpse towered over you, looking admittedly both intimidating and seductive. If you were a stranger, you’d probably be running off, but you weren’t scared of Corpse. He was a big softie and a teddy bear.

Corpse chuckled lowly, slinging his arm over your shoulder and leading you to Sean’s group. He was protective like that, even if you were just friends. Now you could see why Sean, at one point, speculated that you and Corpse had a thing going on. 

“So, Sean forced you to tag along, too?”

“Pfft, yeah, that’s Sean for you.”

“Hey, there’s my favorite couple,” Sean joked, patting your shoulder. You rolled your eyes at his drunk antics.

“Shut up, don’t make me choke you like I hate you,” you mocked in return, eliciting a fit of laughter from the group. 

“Remind me to never hang out with you losers again,” Corpse mumbled sarcastically under his breath.

The night went by in a flash. Sean, Thomas, Felix, and everyone else was blackout drunk. Luckily, Mark was there to assist them. Since Mark couldn’t drink, he would be the designated driver that night. Corpse hung out by himself, sometimes getting approached by women who he politely turned down.

You, on the other hand, were downing alcohol like your life depended on it. For you, it would take more than the average number of drinks for you to get wasted.

“Y/N, don’t you think you should slow down?” Corpse questioned cautiously, resting a hand on the small of your back.

“Does it really look like I’m thinking right now?” you drunkenly slurred, following with a giggle. You waved to the bartender, calling for another shot, which he slid over to you, but not without hesitating after noticing your state. You pushed Corpse off of you, probably more harshly than you intended, and took the shot. 

“Okay, Y/N, fuck this, I’m taking you to my place. We can’t stay here and you certainly can’t drive back home when you’re drunk,” Corpse scowled, stepping closer to you. Again, you shoved him back.

“No.. No..” You sighed, holding your pounding head in your hand. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what? Y/N, you’re drunk -”

“I’m not letting you of all people take me.”

Corpse blinked. “What does that mean?” He knew you were drunk, of course, and you were probably just blurting nonsense.

All of a sudden, tears escaped your eyes, racing down your blushy cheeks.

“No.. I’m so sorry. It’s my fault.” You began to shake and tremble as tears started to uncontrollably spill down your face. Corpse didn’t waste another second to take you in his arms, hushing you. “Your hugs are so warm.. I hate it. I hate feeling this way. It’s all my fault.”

“What did you do, sweetheart? You can tell me.”

Your heart ached when you heard his pet name for you.

“I think I may like you more than you like me.. I-I didn’t mean to! Please don’t leave me. You’re all I have,” you sobbed into his white tee, clinging onto him. “I love you so fucking much, it hurts. I shouldn’t have!”

Corpse stopped for a moment, processing your words.

You.. felt the same?

Corpse had to tell you. You were drunk, but he needed you to know. 

“Y/N, I -”

Suddenly, you had a moment of clarity. Realizing how close you were to Corpse, you backed away, wiping away the mascara tears under your eyes.

“I - I think I had too much to drink.. I just need a smoke..” 

Without giving Corpse the chance to protest, you ran off into the crowd, struggling your way through. 

Corpse began to get worried when you didn’t come back. He waited impatiently on the barstool where you left him, anxiously playing with his rings.

He was just about to get up and look for you, when he caught a glimpse of you stumbling out the exit with another man who guided you, gripping your arm tightly.

Corpse fumed, his face going red and heartbeat speeding up. He went after you, knowing damn well you didn’t know this man. 

The man took you to his car, placing you atop the trunk, your legs dangling over the edge. He stepped in between your legs, caressing your face. Everything was a blur. If your mind was clear, you wouldn’t be stupid enough to trust this random guy, who was probably ten years older than you. 

“You’re too pretty to be crying,” he whispered, leaning in closer to your face, until a yell stopped him from proceeding any further.

“Hey, asshole, she’s drunk! Don’t you fucking touch her!”

“C-Corpse?” You hiccuped, hopping off the trunk to get a look at the approaching figure. It was indeed Corpse. His eyebrows were pressed together angrily at the sight.

“You know this dude?” the man said loudly and smugly, just to get a reaction from Corpse. “Relax, my man, I’m just tryna take this pretty girl home.”

“Well this pretty girl happens to be mine, and I won’t let you take advantage of her,” Corpse growled. 

You stood by the stranger, clinging to him as you watched Corpse’s face twist into an expression of heartbreak when you didn’t budge. He then noticed the bruises around your arms and wrist, supposedly from the man’s strong grip. He was unbelievably furious. 

“Ha, doesn’t look like she’s your girl anymore.” The man’s lips twisted upwards into a devilish smirk, only pissing Corpse off some more. Oh boy, was he ready to snap. He reached into his pocket, when..

“Wait,” you managed to slur out, breaking up the argument. You reached out towards Corpse like a child. His facial expression immediately softened. He gave you a loving smile and immediately took you into his arms, holding you protectively. 

“Now, I suggest you get in your car and never come back,” Corpse threatened.

“Oh, yeah? Or what? I’ll kill you and take your girl, you motherfucker!”

Without hesitation, Corpse took out his switchblade, looking the man in his eyes.

“Say that again?”

You watched as the stranger’s whole tough act fell apart. Without another word, he ran to the driver’s side of his car, fumbling with his keys. 

“Yeah, that’s right,” Corpse mumbled, not taking his eyes off the man until he reached his own car. You held his hand the whole way, processing what had just happened. Corpse noticed your distant expression. You got into his car, shutting the door and slumping back into your seat. He tore off his mask, taking in deep breaths to calm himself. Then he looked back to you. 

“Princess?”

You looked to Corpse, your eyes teary. “Hey, Corpse.” You didn’t seem to be as drunk, your mind a lot clearer after the incident. “D-Did you mean anything you said back there? About the..”

“About you being my girl?” 

Corpse took your hand in his, squeezing it comfortingly. He leaned forward and cupped your face with his free hand. “Absolutely.” 

With that, you leaned towards him, hesitantly pressing your lips to his. Your lips tasted of alcohol, but Corpse didn’t care. He was admittedly taken back, his breath hitching, but he released the tension from his body and kissed you back, pulling you over to the driver’s seat atop him. There wasn’t much space, forcing you to press closer to Corpse, deepening the kiss. 

Still being a bit drunk, you were clumsy and kind of ‘out of it’. 

“I’d hold onto something if I were you,” Corpse mumbled, breaking the kiss momentarily to guide your hands to grip his shoulders. But you were impatient and reconnected your lips with his, no doubt causing him to blush even more than he already was.

You couldn’t help yourself and giggled into the kiss, causing Corpse to chuckle along with you, departing from the kiss again and resting his forehead against yours.

“I’m sorry, you’re just so fucking adorable when you giggle.” 

You hummed in response, offering Corpse an innocent grin as you pecked all over his face. 

“I’m so glad you’re mine.”

[thetravelerwrites]

Birch (Centaur)

Rating: Mature Relationship: Female Human/Male Centaur Additional Tags: Exophilia, Monster Boyfriend, Centaur, Reader Insert Content Warnings: Communication Disorder, Social Communication Disorder, Anxiety, Autism, Autistic Reader, Semi-Verbal Autism, Semi-Verbal Reader, Overbearing Mother, Verbal Abuse, Emotional Abuse, Ableism Series: Shelter Forest Words: 4758

Commissioned by an anonymous party, Birch finally gets his own story! The reader, who has a communication disorder, meets and somehow befriends a beautiful centaur named Birch, who lives in the woods with his family and is known throughout the town as being a bit of a playboy and a flirt. When he realizes how poorly the reader is treated by her mother, he immediately tries to rescue her. Please reblog and leave feedback!

The Traveler's Masterlist

You first saw him when you were thirteen year old. You and your mother came to Coleville to beg for work after your father had kicked you both out of the house for another woman. You and your mother worked in the laundry and kitchen of the town’s most popular tavern, washing bed sheets and tableware, so you hadn’t really had the chance to meet him when he came into town to trade. You were only ever able to watch him from a distance

He was massive, friendly, and beautiful. His horse body was the size and color of a buckskin Andalusian, with a pale tan body fur and black socks. His skin was suntanned from working in the fields of his home farm and he always wore a simply-made tunic. His hair was short and black, and his tail was long and black, but his eyes were a bright, clear blue. He smiled easily and seemed to get along with everyone. You fell in love with him as soon as you laid eyes on him.

Well, no, you knew even then that it wasn’t love, it was just fascination and infatuation, but you couldn’t help yourself. You were overjoyed every time you saw him. Not that he’d ever notice you. You were just a plain, poor, chubby laundress with red, chapped hands and a future of working in a tavern for the rest of your life. Why would he even glance at you?

You wouldn’t be able to speak to him, even if he did. You were terribly shy and timid. You’d always been that way and couldn’t help it. Talking to people, looking them in the eye, facing confrontation, it all made you terrified and shaky. You barely spoke to anyone who wasn’t your parents, although you really didn’t speak to them that much, either. You were sure the most used word in your vocabulary was sorry.

When you were younger, your parents had hoped you’d grow out of it, but you never did. Once you hit puberty and was still unable to speak, your mother began to despair of you, pushing you to talk and berating you when you couldn’t, which only made you withdraw more. You couldn’t blame her for being exasperated with you; you were just as frustrated with yourself as she was. She never said it, but you knew she blamed you for your father rejecting you both.

Even though Birch usually came alone, you were sure he must already be married or have a lover, though he was openly flirtatious. You knew he’d had a few girls in town on occasion, having overheard them bragging about their nights with him, though they all seemed to be one-night trysts or affairs that didn’t last long. Perhaps he wasn’t even interested in settling down with anyone and was the playboy type. He was gorgeous enough for it.

Once or twice, he came to town with his family members or to visit family members who had settled here, like his brother Cetzu, the lizardfolk man running the orphanage with his wife. They were all a strange lot: some were human, most were not. You only ever saw one other centaur, and he looked nothing like Birch; he was a younger, smaller piebald named Yew with black skin, white hair, and pale eyes. You’d heard rumors that there was a mixed family in the woods, living on a farm, and that they were all sorts, but it didn’t really seem real to you until you saw them all together.

He’d come to town one day to buy seeds and supplies and came into the tavern for a drink. For centaurs, alcohol was basically food to them, so they drank heavily and often. A lot of centaurs you’d known got pretty rowdy, but Birch was always mindful. He held his ale well and knew when to stop before getting fully inebriated, careful not to make an ass of himself. He was considerate. You liked that about him.

You were working in the kitchens at the time when he arrived, and he sat at one of the tables designed for four-legged folk. It was a long table with no chairs or benches, but flat cushions instead. He folded his legs under him and flagged the waitress, smiling his dazzling smile, and ordered ale and some roasted vegetables. You were neglecting your work, but even if it was just a few seconds, you wanted to commit his image to memory as often as you could.

“Oi!” The waitress, Cathy, hissed as she came toward the door of the kitchen to put in Birch’s order. “What are you doing?!”

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” You said, barely audibly.

“Go take him his ale,” She said. “We’re understaffed. If you’re going to be in the way, the least you can do is be useful.”

“I…!" You protested, but she pushed past you into the kitchen to yell at the cook. With you heart in your throat, you rushed to fill a clean tankard and skittered it over, setting it down on the table in front of him without looking at him.

“Ah, that was fast,” Birch said, his voice deep, rich, and wonderful to the ear. “You’re a lovely little thing. Are you new, sweet pea? I haven’t seen you in the tavern before.”

You looked down at the ground and didn’t answer. You weren’t sure what to do, whether to stay and try to be friendly, or retreat back to the kitchen, so you were frozen there with indecision, looking at the floor.

“Hey now, don’t be shy, love. I don’t bite,” He said, you assumed in an attempt to be flirty, reaching for your hand. You snatched your hand away impulsively and ran back to the kitchen.

Your heart was racing and your mind reeling. Why did I do that? You thought, covering your face with your hands. He probably thinks I’m crazy or a complete shrew! I should never leave the back rooms again and just stick to washing dishes.

After a few moments, though, your mother pulled you away from washing by the arm.

“What did you do?” She asked angrily. “One of the customers is asking for you!”

You panicked. “I… I just… I brought him his drink…” You whispered in terror.

“Come on,” She gripped your arm and pulled you back out into the tavern common room, where Birch was still sitting. He looked at you with a frown. Oh god, he looks annoyed, you thought nervously.

“Miss,” He said, and you stared at your feet, unable to look up. “I think I may have frightened or upset you. I’m sorry, I sometimes forget that not everyone is receptive to my personality or sense of humor.”

You were completely unable to speak and kept your head down, your shoulders hunched.

“Say something!” Your mother hissed at you, and you could only shrink into yourself further. “I’m sorry, sir,” Your mother said in exasperation. “My daughter is as timid as a field mouse. She can’t speak to other people and she never looks people in the eye. She can barely even speak to me. She’s always been like this.”

“Oh,” He said, sounding concerned. “Is she unwell?”

“Probably,” Your mother replied in annoyance, and you pulled away even further. “Though the doctors can’t tell us what’s wrong with her. She usually stays in the kitchen and laundry away from the customers. I don’t know what possessed her to come out here and bother you.”

“C… Ca…” You stuttered, struggling to speak in your defense, looking back toward the kitchen, where Cathy was hovering by the door.

“Oh, did Cathy ask you to bring me my drink?” He asked kindly.

You nodded fervently.

“I understand. I’m sorry that she put you in an uncomfortable situation, and I apologize for making it worse.”

Your mother sighed wearily. “Sir, don’t apologize to her. It’s not your fault that she can’t function like a normal adult.”

That hurt. You were on the verge of tears and hugged your arms around yourself, desperately wanting to escape back to the kitchen.

“Even so,” He said, his voice cold, but softened when he addressed you. “I’m very sorry, miss.”

You nodded once and shuffled quickly back to the kitchen, unable to keep the tears from falling. Your mother rejoined you a few minutes later.

“You could have at least apologized to him,” He said, taking the plates as you washed them to rinse them off and put them in the rack. “Why do you have to embarrass me like that? How hard is it to say ‘thank you’ or ‘I’m sorry’?” She sighed sharply and wiped her hands. “Don’t you dare get us fired.” And she walked off, leaving you weeping into the dishwater.

Cathy heard the entire thing and came over sheepishly.

“Hey… I’m sorry I got you in trouble with your ma,” She said. “I forgot about the speaking thing. I was just in a rush and I didn’t think.”

You shook your head. Cathy was the one person who you might call a friend. She was a little brusque and had a short fuse, but she was one of the few who didn’t make fun of your stuttering and silence or look down their nose at you.

“Listen, Birch is a really nice guy. He plays around and has his fun with the girls, but he’s never hurt anyone on purpose. He wasn’t trying to make fun of you or make you feel bad.”

You nodded shortly. You knew that. He was being friendly; that’s just how he talked to people. But being humiliated in front of him was a torture unlike anything you’d felt before, and it hurt.

The next day, you were feeding the chickens in the coop outside of the tavern when you looked up and saw him exiting the tavern. He noticed you right away, and you turned immediately and tried to flee.

“Hey, wait!” He called. “Wait, please!”

You stood with your back to him but you stayed put. You heard him trotting up to you, his hoof-beats heavy.

“Hey, listen, I wanted to apologize again,” He said. “To just you this time. I don’t know what your mother’s problem is, but what she said… that was uncalled for. You didn’t deserve that.”

You turned to face him but you didn’t look up, focusing instead on his large hooves. You shook your head. No, he was wrong. You did deserve it.

“You can’t help how you are,” He said. “It’s not your fault. I have a little brother who has trouble talking to people, too. It’s the exact opposite of your problem; he says exactly what’s on his mind with no filter. He can’t control it and it embarrasses him sometimes. It’s not the same, I know, but I understand that it can be hard.”

He was so nice. You were able to lift your head a little, but you still couldn’t look him in the face.

“My name is Birch,” He said. “What’s yours?”

You opened your mouth but nothing came out, so you shut it again.

“Hmm,” He hummed. “Can you write?”

You shook your head.

“Um… sign language?”

You answered no again.

“I see,” He said, sighing. “I… I’ll be honest… I don’t want to leave you here with that mother of yours. I’m not sure what kind of relationship you have with her, but the way she talks to you…” He pawed the ground in annoyance. “It bothers me. Does she do that a lot? Make fun of you in front of other people?”

You shrugged, embarrassed.

He sidestepped in an anxious way and swished his tail. “I have to go back home later today,” He said. “Are… are you going to be okay?”

You nodded.

“Are you sure?”

Another nod.

“Well… alright,” He said. “Look, um… if you ever need to… you know… leave this place, talk to Cathy. She knows where my family’s farm is. She can help you get there. If you need to.”

You nodded again, and he turned to leave, but an unfamiliar impulse compelled you to rush forward and take hold of the hem of his tunic. He stopped and looked at you, though he could only see the top of your head.

“Th…” You gulped, your throat dry, your heart beating in your throat. “Tha… ank…you…” You managed to choke out. “H… Haz…zel…”

“You’re name is Hazel?” He asked, a smile in his voice.

You nodded emphatically.

You felt him put a hand on top of your head and and sort of rubbed his fingers against your scalp. It felt nice, even though you weren’t used to physical touch. Your mother wasn’t exactly the affectionate sort.

“You take care, okay?” He said, taking his hand back. “I’ll be back in a few days. I look forward to seeing you again.”

That evening, you were in the room you shared with your mother as she brushed her hair for bed when she mentioned nonchalantly, “I saw you with that centaur man today. What did he say to you?”

“...he… nothing…” You said vaguely.

“Then why did he touch you? And why were you touching him?” She asked, her voice flat.

“I…” You gulped. “I… don’t know…” You said truthfully.

“Oh, really? You don’t know? You don’t know why a man like him would touch you? You know his reputation in this town. He’s trying to take advantage of you because you're simple.”

“He was… just… being nice…” You said softly.

Your mother snorted. “Men aren’t nice without a reason. I thought you’d know that by now.” She threw down her hairbrush onto the night table and lay down in your shared bed. “You’re not going to have anything to do with him from now on, do you understand? It shouldn’t be difficult for you to manage that, should it?”

You didn’t say anything, just sat at the table and stared into the fire.

“It’s for your own good,” She said, facing away from you. “I know I’m strict with you, but… I don’t want you to get hurt.”

You have no problem with me getting hurt when you’re the one doing it, you thought to yourself, but you couldn’t say it. You knew she was right, though. He was a flirt and a bit of a libertine, and you thought that perhaps he was only being nice to you because he saw you as low hanging fruit. It hurt to think of him that way, but it was the only thing that made sense.

He did return in a few days, an older woman riding on his back. She was lovely, even at her age, and was wearing trousers and a practical shirt, but no bodice or ladies coat. Her brown hair was caught back in a tight braid, a few strands of grey weaved in and out.

You saw them arrive from the window of your room as you were getting ready for the day. He was as handsome as always, and you watched him wistfully. As if he could sense you, he looked up and saw you at the window. He smiled at you and waved. Remembering what your mother said, you were unable to smile back and walked away from the window without acknowledging him. You hoped he wouldn’t be too angry at you.

Before you could start work in the laundry, Cathy called you out.

“Birch and his mother are here,” She said, keeping her voice down so that your mother wouldn’t hear. “They want to see you.”

“I cant…” You said in your normal whisper. “Mama will be angry…”

“Don’t worry about your ma right now,” Cathy said dismissively. “You don’t deserve the shit she gives you, you’re just too shy to tell her off. Just go see what they want. Maybe it’s a chance to get out from under her thumb.”

You had to admit, you did wish for that. You loved your mother, and she loved you in her own way, but you knew she resented you and it was just… exhausting, dealing with her reproachfulness and cutting words every day. You were just too scared to leave on your own.

You thought long and hard about it, looking around to see if your mother was anywhere near. When you didn’t see her, you looked up at Cathy, looking just past her behind her ear instead of at her face, and nodded. She took you by the hand and led you out to the dining area. Birch and his mother were sitting at the four-legged table, with his mother having dragged over a chair to sit with him comfortably.

“Oh, good, there you are,” Birch said. “When you didn’t react this morning, I was worried something had happened. Mama, this is the young woman I was telling you about.”

He told his mother about you? Why?

“I see, I see,” The older woman said. “My name is Ryel, I’m Birch’s mother. Your name is Hazel, right?”

You nodded, unable to look up.

“Goodness, you are rather shy, aren’t you, dear?” She said sympathetically. You chewed your lip, unable to respond. “My son tells me you’re illiterate, is that correct?”

You nodded.

“I imagine that makes communicating with other people very difficult,” She said.

You nodded again.

“So, how about this?” She said, leaning forward. “Why don’t you come to the farm with me for the summer? I’ll teach you how to read and write, and in exchange, you help me out around the farm. How does that sound?”

For the first time in your life, you were surprised into looking someone in the face. She was smiling warmly at you

“I’m getting older and I could use an assistant. My children all have their own work and families to look after and I’d feel as if I were taking advantage of them if I expected them to follow me around and help me all day.”

“Mama, you know we’d do it happily,” Birch said.

“I know that,” She said, hushing him. “Even still, I’d prefer to hire someone for the task, and if I can help them at the same time, why shouldn’t I?” She leaned forward. “What do you say, dear?”

This is exactly what you wanted. A job that was away from your mom. This was your chance. You opened your mouth, as if to answer, when you heard a sharp voice behind you.

“Hazel!” Your mother said, irate, and stalked out of the kitchen toward you, grabbing you by the arm. “Stop bothering these people! Get back to the laundry.”

Birch’s back leg kicked slightly in irritation, thumping the wood of the floor, but Ryel kept her composure.

“She’s not bothering us in the least, madam,” She said calmly. “I’ve actually come here to offer her a job.”

Your mother scoffed. “A job? Doing what?”

“As my assistant,” Ryel said. “I’m a jack of all trades type, you might say, and I’m willing to take her on in exchange for room and board, plus an education.”

“You’re wasting your time,” Your mother said, her grip rather strong on your arm. “My daughter is not capable of making her own decisions.”

“How old is your daughter?” Ryel asked.

“She’s nineteen,” Your mother replied. “But I’m afraid she’s a bit slow. Trying to teach her wouldn’t benefit either of you.”

You frowned, upset. That wasn’t true, you weren’t slow. In fact, you thought you learned rather quickly, you’d just hadn’t had the chance to learn very many new things.

“Be that as it may,” Ryel replied, her voice still even. “Your daughter is an adult and has the right to choose what she wants.”

“Nonsense,” Your mother said. “Besides, even if I allowed this, I don’t want her anywhere near him.” She jerked her chin toward Birch.

Birch bristled. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“I know what kind of man you are,” She hissed. “How many lovers you’ve had in just this town alone? How many broken hearts have you left in your wake? I know you have ulterior motives for wanting to take her from here, and I won’t stand for it. She’s simpleminded and vulnerable, and I won’t let you dishonor her and return her to me used and broken.”

“Stop talking like she can’t hear every vile thing you say about her!” Birch shouted, slamming his fist into the table, making you jump. “I would never do something so shameful! You don’t know anything about me! ”

“Son, calm down,” Ryel said, putting her hand on his. “My son is a grown man of twenty-eight and has desires, true, but I’ve been to this town quite often and I haven’t found any such string of broken hearts, as you call it. Many sighing and wistful girls who long for his company, sure, but not one of them has come to me with tears in her eyes claiming he lied or misled her. He’s open and forthright about his intentions, and I respect his decisions. You should do the same for your child.”

“Don’t talk to me about my child if you can’t even control your own,” Your mother said venomously. “Hazel, let’s go.”

She tried to lead you away, but you refused to move. There were hurt and anxious tears in your eyes and you couldn’t look at anyone, but you refused to let her pull you away.

“Hazel!” She gripped your arm and yanked you painfully, and you wrenched your arm from her grasp, shaking your head.

“It seems like she’s made her choice,” Ryel said. “The least you can do as her mother is respect her wishes.”

“Be quiet!” Your mother said. “Leave us alone!” She grabbed your hands and started to pull you back to the kitchen. Birch got to his feet.

“Let her go,” He said, his voice a low growl, knocking her hands away from you. He stood between you and your mother. You dared to reach out and place a hand on the fur of his back to steady yourself.

“What’s going on here?” The bartender, Brian, asked. He also owned the tavern and knew about your condition. He didn’t speak to you much, but he also didn’t tease you either. You could handle understanding silence a lot better than persistent expectation to interact. “Are you alright, Hazel?”

You were shaking and crying, so you could only shake your head.

“These people won’t leave us alone,” You mother said. “I’d like them to leave.”

“Now, Rita, these people are good customers and friends of mine. I’m going to need more of a reason than ‘they’re bothering me’ to kick them out.”

“We simply offered young Hazel here a job on the farm,” Ryel said patiently. “I’m afraid her mother is interfering with her decision.”

“Is that true, Hazel?” Brian asked. “Would you like to take up this job?”

Trembling, you nodded.

“Well, then, that settles it, doesn’t it?” Brian said. “These are good folks, Hazel, they’ll take care of you.”

“Like hell they will,” You mother retorted. “She can’t make decisions like this. She doesn't understand.”

Brian sighed. “Rita, your girl’s not stupid, and it’s high time you stopped treating her like she is.”

Your mother looked like she’d been slapped in the face. You looked up at Brian in shock. He smiled kindly at you.

“Why don’t you go up and pack your things while your mother and I have a little chat, eh, dear?” He said.

You attempted to smile at him, though you worried it looked a little like you had indigestion, and went to pack. You took a few minutes to sit on the bed and breathe, clutching your chest, feeling a panic attack poking at your brain. You couldn’t believe it. You were really leaving.

There was a knock on your door and Ryel poked her head in.

“Are you alright, dear? That was quite the fuss,” She said.

You dried your face and nodded, getting up to start putting clothes in a bag.

“I sent Birch outside. He was getting rather angry, and I didn’t want him smashing any of Brian’s furniture.”

You looked out the window. Birch was standing in the courtyard with his arms crossed, stamping the ground and stepping constantly, as if he couldn’t stand still. His brow was furrowed, his jaw was working, and his tail was swishing back and forth without stopping.

“He’s worried for you, dear,” She said, following your gaze. “One thing our entire family has in common is that we don’t like seeing people mistreated. You’re mother may have her reasons for acting as she does, and perhaps it is out of some misplaced notion of love, but there’s no doubt in my mind at all that she mistreats you. You can’t help the way you are, and no amount of her cruel words are going to fix that. In fact, I’m more than certain it makes it worse.”

You sighed sadly in agreement. As you stood there, Birch looked up at your window. He smiled, a little sadder than before, and waved up at you. This time, you raised a hand and waved back.

The door opened and your mother walked in, glaring at Ryel.

“I’d like to speak to my daughter alone, if you please,” She said, her voice low and hostile.

Ryel looked at you questioningly, and you nodded. “I’ll be right outside if you need me,” She said, and walked out, closing the door behind her.

Your mother just stared at you with her arms crossed, shaking her head slightly. You looked down and away.

“I guess I should just be glad you won’t be around to humiliate me anymore,” She said, and you shrunk in on yourself. “I don’t like this at all, but it seems I have no say in the matter. You made sure of that, didn’t you?”

You knew she was hurt and was lashing out. She wasn’t exactly sweet and caring on her best days, but she could really cut a person to the quick when she was upset.

“Don’t you have anything to say?” She asked you, and you could hear tears in her voice. “Nothing at all? You can’t muster the courage to apologize to me for that display downstairs? For leaving me without a thought to my feelings? I’ve spent the last seven years protecting you and providing for you after your useless father threw us out, and you do this to me? And you have nothing to say?”

You didn’t say anything. Instead, you walked up to her and put your arms around her waist and lay your head on her shoulder.

“I’ll miss you, Mama,” You said softly.

She started to sob and put her arms around your shoulders. It had been years since she’d last hugged you.

“You’d better start sending me letters as soon as you learn how to,” She said, her voice breaking. “If I don’t hear something from you in a few months, I’m going out there to drag you back, you understand me?”

“Yes, Mama,” You whispered, and took a step back. Picking up your bag, you opened the door and walked out. Ryel was waiting and smiled when she saw you.

“Ready?” She asked.

You nodded.

Back outside, Birch was waiting. He stopped shifting around anxiously when he saw you and his mother exit the tavern.

“Everything okay?” He asked.

“Everything’s just fine,” Ryel said. “We’re ready to go.”

“Would you like to ride on my back?” Birch asked, turning.

You shook your head fervently, mortified.

“Are you sure?” He said. “It’s a long walk back to the farm, over four hours. I can get us there in half the time.”

“She’s feeling shy,” Ryel said. “For centaurs, letting people ride on their back is a special privilege afforded to few. I’ll ride with you.” She grinned at him. “He always makes an exception for his mother.”

He grinned at her in return. “You just assume I do.” But he took out a quilted riding blanket that was rolled up and tied to the bottom of his pack and handed it to her, and she set it on his back. Climbing the steps to the tavern, she vaulted onto his back. She instructed you to do the same. Blushing furiously, with both Ryel and Birch’s help, you were able to scramble on in front of her.

“Let’s go,” He said, and he took off at a trot out of town.

Since my work is no longer searchable, please do me a favor and reblog this story if you enjoyed it. Help me reach a wider audience! To help me continue creating, please consider becoming a Patron or donating directly to my PayPal!

Thanks for reading!

My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

[notmuchofarolemodel]

music- sia’s movie

originally written on jan 24 2021

I can’t believe i’m writing about this. again.

So, if you didn’t already know, Sia directed a movie about an autistic girl, starring Maddie Ziegler. This is problematic for so many reasons, including the fact that Maddie is allistic (not autistic), Sia did next to no research on autism before directing the movie, and after announcing the movie, she took to twitter and attacked autistic people voicing their opinions. But she’s done so many more awful things since. So yay, article by me, the sequel. /s

Sia has done a few interviews over the last while about her movie and has responded to criticism about it. (very badly.)

Despite her claims, Sia was never going to cast an autistic actor in the first place. She said:

“I realized it wasn’t ableism [Casting Maddie]. I mean, it is ableism I guess as well, but it’s actually nepotism because I can’t do a project without her. I don’t want to. I wouldn’t make art if it didn’t include her.”

It was also found that Sia said had written a film for Maddie a long time ago- in 2015- which almost certainly means she never had any intentions of casting an autistic person.

The plot of the movie, and a clip have both been leaked since the release of the trailer in November.

‘Music’ falls back on harmful Hollywood sterotypes again, and again- but yet, after it was no longer fresh news, almost nobody but the autistic community was talking about it. It’s still set to be released soon this year, but stereotypes such as ‘autism = special/savant abilities’ as seen in Rain man, and ‘Autistic people don’t have feelings’ - are ones that lead to underdiagnosis, and biases in the professional world.

“We are particularly alarmed that Sia has said it would be ‘cruel’ to cast a nonspeaking autistic person as an actor. It suggests that she thinks that autistic people don’t understand our own lives and aren’t the people who should be telling our own stories. When people tell stories about autism that cut out an autistic point of view, when storytellers view us as objects to tell inspirational stories about, or when autism is treated as a narrative device rather than as a disability community full of real people, the stories that are told fall flat, don’t speak to our reality, and are often harmful to us.” -Zoe Gross, ASAN

Sia refused to refer to her main character as disabled, and only used the term ‘special abilities’ which just further proves how these sterotypes affect people’s view of autistic people. In today’s society, autism is a disability, and that’s not a bad thing. She also described the film as “Rainman, the musical- but with girls”

There are several meltdown scenes in the movie, and one of them has been leaked in a clip. In this, Music is having a meltdown in a park, and she is then held in prone restraint. Meaning she was jumped on top of and pinned to the ground. This was not only unnecessary, but potentially deadly. This film is going to be big, if it gets released, and it was very much made for a neurotypical audience’s enjoyment. People will likely see this movie, and think that restraining an autistic person is ok. It’s not. This is how people get killed. Recently a story came up about Eric Parsa, a 16 year old autistic boy who was killed at the hands of the police last year, after they used this ‘technique’ on him.

Regarding this scene Sia said, “If they [cinema-goers] watch the movie, it will allow them to touch into their compassion. That scene was so important to me, because of all the people staring. I felt compelled to put it in.”

This is why people need to listen and learn from actual autistic people. There’s so much dangerous misinformation out there, and it’s unacceptable. There is nothing ‘compassionate’ about harming people, and autistic people are people. i.e people who deserve the same rights and dignity as everyone else.

Sia continues to further dehumanize autistic people by constantly talking about ‘levels of functioning’. humans are impossibly complex, and there’s no one way to function. In an interview with Sia, nonspeaking autistic people are compared to ‘inanimate objects, like wigs’.

Sia also said “People functioning at Music’s level can’t get on Twitter and tell me I did a good job either.” This is untrue, firstly because, again- there’s no one way to function, and just because a person can’t speak, doen’t mean they don’t have a right to opinions, and feelings (and it definitely doesn’t mean they should be compared to ‘inanimate objects’), and secondly because many nonspeaking autistic people have taken to twitter and social media to tell her she’s done a bad job, she’s just chosen to ignore and insult them.

This whole thing is so infuriating, and it’s very obvious that Sia does not care about autistic people.

“Sia being ableist AF while claiming she meant well is some serious abled savior bullshit. I can’t believe so many people green-lit this project & the press team approved the ‘special abilities’ language. Disabled people clearly weren’t part of this production team.” -Kristen Parisi via twitter

She also claimed she decided to make the movie because she was inspired by a 16-year-old named Stevie that she met at an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting. “Stevie used to sit next to me in the front row at my AA meetings. He was low-functioning and on the spectrum with echolalia; he’s the reason I wanted to make this movie,” she said. Autistic people don’t exist simply to be inspiring or make you feel good about yourself. We’re people, who just want to go about our lives, the same as anyone else- we don’t need a cure and we don’t need to fit people’s idea of what autism is, just let us be, please.

Finally, I’m just going to touch on the question ‘Why isn’t any criticism being directed at Maddie?’ This is because she likely didn’t have much say in the film at all. Keep in mind that she was only 13/14 at the start of this project. Sia also said Maddie was worried that people would think she was mocking autistic people. The film is a mockery of autistic people, but Sia is at fault.

“She had researched her role for two years, we watched movies together, and I taught her the nuances and ticks I had observed from [a] friend [with autism],” Sia said. “We did this in the most sensitive and respectful way.”

I can confirm that that is very much not sensitive and respectful- not to mention that Maddie also watched autism meltdowns as a part of her reseach too (filming a meltdown is incredibly dehumanizing) , but the fact that she learned how to ‘act autistic’ from sterotypes, taught to her by a person who just, doesn’t know anything about autism is awful, but also quite absurd. It makes no sense.

No, I do not wish to watch an abled-bodied actor wear my stims like itchy clothes. A caricature of my being.

No, I do not want to see her dance around in skin not her own, profiting from a life not her own.

No, I do not wish to support yet another film that will profit off the lives of disabled bodies without one disabled body involved. -tiffany hammond

I recieved quite a bit of backlash when I posted the first time about why casting a nondisabled actor for a disabled role is bad- from allistic people, so if any of you are reading this as nondisabled people- I literally do not care if you disagree, you don’t get to dictate how autistic people feel. Try a little harder to get out of your own head and see things from another person’s perspective xx

Now, for the love of God, please don’t watch this movie if it comes out in February, and listen to Autistic voices. : Here is a thread of positive autistic representation instead :)

click here for thread!

Sign the Petition

Filming & posting videos of children's autism meltdowns on YouTube is a clear violation of YouTube's community…www.change.org

link

Sign the Petition

Sia has announced she is directing a movie about an autistic woman, and claims she wants to represent the…www.change.org

all other relevant links are linked within the underlined text.

my original article - link

[sage-writing]

Criminal Business Part 2 // Ransom Drysdale [Mob AU]

mob! Ransom Drysdale x female mob! reader

Summary: As part of criminal etiquette you host a dinner for the gang leaders of the east cost. One of them has a special eye on you.

Word count: ~2k

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, dark story, reference to previous chapter: explicit sexual content, explicit language, dub con/ non con, smut, nudes, blackmail and coercion. [Read at your own risk. DO NOT read if you don't feel comfortable with any of these topics]

A/N: What can I say. I've rewritten this chapter a million times but I think I've got it now🙃

This is going to be my first series and I'm kind of trying to write the plot in advance, but it's not working out. So I can't say yet how many parts there will be and when they will come out. Hopefully in a shorter time than the first part.

Dividers are mine, you can use them but please tag me if you do.

as always I am not an English native speaker so there will be probably some errors. Feedback is always appreciated ❤

Part 1

The next morning you woke up in your bed without Ransom, but with a headache. For a brief moment you wondered if the alcohol had gone to your head and you were just dreaming, but the soreness between your legs proved otherwise.

Secretly, you were grateful that Ransom was no longer there. This allowed you to wake up in peace and think about last night.

The anger still simmered in you at the thought that he had simply broken into your home. You desperately needed to find the vulnerability in your security system that he had exploited. If he managed to find it, others could do the same.

The thought that plagued you even more was the fact that you had enjoyed Ransom's playing with your body. The struggle for the upper hand, pure adrenaline and dopamine had flooded your body and set off fireworks. He had been the catalyst for it.

There was a knock on your bedroom door and annoyed, you hid under your covers.

"No!"

Despite your clear announcement, the door was opened and Lewis appeared there.

"It's 10:30, everyone's waiting for you." There was concern in his questioning gaze once again.

"It's that late already?!" Your schedule for today was in danger of falling apart, so you'd have to make some cuts. "Tell the men the meeting is cancelled. For the time being, just have everyone get on with their work. I'm going to head to the company now."

He looked at you critically, but just nodded and left the room. Now was simply not a good time for a conversation. It would have to wait.

With big steps and clacking heels you strode across the stone floor to your office. Your assistant gave you a quick update. There were only two meetings and a handful of phone calls to go.

The real business of the technology company, which specialized mainly in digital service, was easy to handle. It was more difficult to weave the illegal operations into the company's books in such a way that no one would notice the double-cross.

Illegal income streams, anonymous donations, or questionable investments had to be disguised so that any suspicion of unlawful activity would fade into nothing. Since graduating, you had taken over the position of CEO from your father, who then served only pro forma on the executive board. It was he who had created the company out of nothing, thus providing the perfect cover for the outside world.

In the afternoons, you would get stuck on the accounting figures, leaning back in your chair and massaging your throbbing temples.

Sometimes you wondered if you were up to the task. If anything went wrong, it would be your responsibility, yours alone.

At the ring of your phone, you squinted your eyes for a moment and then answered it. Your assistant told you that a man was here and wanted to speak to you, but refused to give a name. You told her that security should remove the man, since he obviously had no business in the office.

You didn't have time for such silliness, so you returned to the endless list on your laptop. Not even two minutes later, noise came from the hallway. Voices discussing loudly with each other. You decided to see what was going on.

When you opened the door, the headache of the morning was suddenly back.

What you saw was Ransom Drysdale resisting the attempts of two of your security guards to remove him, while your assistant stood by with a helpless look.

"Is there a problem here?" Your voice echoed through the marble-tiled hallway, causing momentary silence. Those present turned to look at you.

"Miss, please forgive the disturbance, we will remove this gentleman immediately," one of the security men said, grabbing Ransom by the upper arm. You could see Ransom's nostrils flare and his eyes narrow to slits.

"That won't be necessary. I'm sure Mister Drysdale was just playing a tasteless joke."

Despite the puzzled looks, you gestured Ransom to enter your office. He shook off the security guard's grip, demonstratively adjusted his business jacket, and neatly brushed his perfect hair back into place before walking toward you and into your office.

He strutted in, poured himself a scotch, and plopped down in your desk chair as if your office were his private living room. His arrogance pissed you off.

"Your habit of invading other people's premises and acting like a spoiled little kid is really charming." You followed him and stopped demonstratively in front of the desk, arms folded in front of your chest.

Ransom sipped his drink and his eyes formed into slits as he studied you. "It's really cute how you're being coy, sweetie. But I'm pretty sure you did like last night all that much."

"Well, you truly are a gentleman. So now if you'll stop wasting my time and get to the point, I'd appreciate it." He only responded with a snort to your fake smile.

"Actually, I wanted to compliment you on your tight cunt, but apparently it falls on deaf ears. Well, then to the actual topic. I want to take you out to dinner... Friday night."

You were confused and angry in equal measure. "W-what? First you break into my house, then you force me to have sex, and now you want to have dinner with me? Are you kidding me?"

"I have to admit, my approach may not have been the nicest, however, I'm sure you enjoyed our night together as much as I did. The way your knees went weak, you moaned and begged. Fuck, I could take you again right now."

The reawakened memory sent a warm wave into your abdomen. Ransom was right. And you hated that. "Get out of here, Ransom. NOW."

"I think you should show a little more gratitude, kiddo. It would have been easy for me to backstab you, and what do you think would have happened then, huh? You might have been able to beg Curtis for forgiveness, but Andrew?! He would have slit your throat or put a bullet in ya. Your entire existence, and especially your family's, would have been wiped out just because you made one stupid mistake."

When Ransom saw you flinch from him and his words, he interrupted his tirade. Maybe he really did care about not turning you against him even further.

"Listen I'm sorry. Okay?" There was no response or reaction from you.

He sighed and put on a disappointed face. "I really thought I could convince you like this, but you're making me do this..."

He pulled out his phone, tapping away briefly on the glowing display, then spun it around to face you. The light blinded you slightly and your eyes needed a moment before you recognized what was on the screen.

And now, at the latest, you would have liked to strangle Ransom yourself.

The picture showed you. Naked. As you lay asleep on Ransom's equally bare chest. He, on the other hand, was grinning gleefully into the camera. He must have done it secretly after you fell asleep.

Your hand shot forward and tried to reach for the cell phone, however Ransom pulled it out of reach.

"Tsk tsk, where are your manners? I wasn't going to play the blackmail card either, but apparently you need some real motivation."

"Drysdale, you're as good as done," you spat out.

"I don't think so. I made backups of that lovely photo, of course, so you wouldn't get the idea that you could take the phone from me and be off the hook. So either I see you Friday night for dinner or I'll make sure certain people get that picture and will know what you did."

You grudgingly swallowed your pride. "Congratulations, Ransom. You're getting your way."

A wide grin spread across Ransom's face.

"Perfect. Then I'll see you on Friday." He didn't even bother finishing his drink, just stalked back out of your office.

This battle, you may have lost. The war, however, was far from decided.

You drained the last sip of Ransom's scotch. He'd better suit up.

Silently you watched as the sun disappeared behind the trees at the far end of your property. A maid brought you a steaming cup of tea. Inevitably, you wondered if one of your household employees had helped Ransom break in. Their loyalty was not as unwavering as your men's. Every individual had their price.

When Lewis came by, you asked him to walk with you a little way. For comfort, you slipped off your shoes and went barefoot. The pleasant tickle of the grass reminded you of playing in the garden of your parents' estate as a child.

You walked through the rose garden, over to the avenue of cypress trees. You wanted to make sure you were far enough away from the house that no one could overhear you from around a corner.

"Now would you tell me what's on your mind?"

Lying to Lewis wouldn't make sense. Your closest confidant knew you too well and you would need his help. Because you were sure of one thing. Ransom's shenanigans weren't history yet.

You told him everything. The dinner with the other mob bosses, your faux pas with the gun, your sex with Ransom and his subsequent blackmail.

His disappointed look at the mention of the gun, really hurt you. Over and over, Lewis had drilled into you the importance of the criminal underworld's code of conduct. Many of the rules may have been antiquated and silly, but you followed them anyway. Before your first dinner with the other men, Lewis had spent hours preparing you. He had gone over the other men's profiles with you, he had taught you which topics to avoid and which to bring up instead. All that hard work was about to fall to pieces.

Lewis sighed deeply and his brow furrowed as you finished your explanation.

"What other demands did Drysdale make?"

"Besides dinner? None. But I doubt strongly that he will be satisfied with that. What can I do?" Frustrated, you settled down on a bench at the end of the grove of cypress trees.

"The bottom line is you have three choices. One, you give the snotty brat what he wants. Two, you find your own leverage. Or third...you find an ally who is also interested in getting rid of Drysdale."

Lewis sat down next to you and put a hand on your shoulder. In the presence of others, Lewis and you would never have exchanged any familial touches. When you were alone, it was different. As you stretched your upper body resolutely, he took his hand away again.

"Option one is definitely out of the question. I'd rather chop off my hand on my own. That leaves only options 2 and 3...," you could almost hear the gears clicking in your head. Suddenly a plan formed in your head and you jumped up from the bench.

"Search all the security camera footage for the night in question. Ransom must have gained access somewhere and I need to know where."

"Consider it pretty much done." Lewis nodded, stood up and headed back to the house, until you stopped him again. "One more thing. Have my car put out, please. I have one more thing to do."

"Are you going to tell me what you're up too?"

"Acquiring an ally."

[drabbles-mc]

Out of Town

Bishop Losa x Trans!M!Reader

Little combo of Day Four of the July Prompts and an Anonymous request: vacation and Can we possibly get a small drabble preferably some fluff, of Bishop with a transguy? Idea wise accidently run in with the reader during some club stuff?

Warnings: alcohol, Bish being a big ol’ flirt

Word Count: 1k

A/N: This is my first time writing a fic of this pairing. I tried to be diligent and respectful, but obviously if something strikes a bad nerve please don’t hesitate to reach out to me and let me know! Also, instead of meeting during club stuff, I had them meet in the aftermath of it. Hope that’s alright. Enjoy! xo

Bishop Losa Taglist: @masterlistforimagines @sincerelyasomebody @sadeyesgf @thesandbeneathmytoes @tomhardydallasstarsgirl @sillygoose6969 @queenbeered @louisianalady @gemini0410 @paintballkid711 @chibsytelford @yourwonkywriter @sesamepancakes @arveeee @mayans-sauce @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @plentyoffandoms @georgiaaintnopeach @twistnet @themoonandthewicked @garbinge @bucky-iss-bae @encounterthepast @everyhowlmarksthedead @rosieposie0624 @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo @mijop @xladymacbethx @blessedboo @holl2712 @lakamaa12 @kkim120 @toni9 @shadow-of-wonder @crowfootwrites @redpoodlern @punkgoddess-98 @black-repunzel99​ @lexondeck​ @just1bri​ @mrsstevenbuchananstark​ @berniesilvas​

It had been a long few days for the club, and the last thing that Bishop wanted to be doing was looking at any of their faces. So, without a word to any of the guys, he took a ride, pulling off in a different town to find a random bar and blow off some steam.

You noticed him as soon as he walked into the bar. It was a pretty consistent crowd of people who came in on Friday’s, and he definitely wasn’t one of them. He moved silently up to the bar, trying not to draw attention, but you couldn’t pry your eyes away from him as he sat down on the stool next to yours. As he sat down and situated himself, you were able to get a decent look at the patches of his kutte. You knew nothing about motorcycle clubs and you couldn’t pretend to, but you’d be willing to learn.

He waved down the bartender and asked for a beer. He’d noticed you watching him from the second he sat down, and finally, without turning to look at you, he broke the silence between you, “Yea?” his tone was angry, per se, just tired.

“Sorry,” your face instantly felt hot, wishing you could handle yourself with a little more stealth or grace, “Just, um, never seen you here before.”

He turned to look at you, a curious expression on his face, “You know everyone who comes in and out of here, then?”

You laughed, “Almost,” nodding towards the patches on his chest, “Santo Padre? Bit of a drive just for a drink.”

He nodded in thanks to the bartender as they handed him his drink, “More about the ride than the drink.”

Not that you could really explain why, but you felt a smile tugging at the edges of your mouth, “Right.”

Both of you fell quiet once more. You wanted to have something more to say, but something told you that he wasn’t up for much of a conversation, and that was fine too. Every so often you’d glance over to him, and he’d usually being staring intently at his beer bottle, clearly deep in thought about something. You drummed your fingers on the outside of your glass as you looked around the rest of the bar, every now and then eavesdropping on conversations happening around you that seemed like they might be interesting.

He was a couple beers deep before he finally seemed like he was in a space to talk about much of anything. He braced his forearms on the edge of the bar, toying with the nearly-empty bottle in his hands, “Any other new faces in here tonight?”

You chuckled, shaking your head, “Nope.”

He turned to you, a soft smile on his face as he arched one eyebrow, “Really? None?”

“Well,” you leaned forward, mimicking his position, “no new faces worth my time.”

He laughed, “You this smooth with all of the new guys?”

“No,” the bartender chimed in with a smile on her face, “No he’s not.”

Chuckling, you roll your eyes, “Thank you for the support.”

She laughed, letting her gaze linger between the two of you for a few moments before getting back to pulling together drinks for everyone else at the bar.

“I’m Y/N, by the way,” you offered up a smile before taking another sip of your drink.

“Bishop,” he nodded as he looked you over, gaze a lingering a little more meaningfully than when he first saw you when he walked in.

You returned the favor, taking the time to study his face a little more. The grey that was beginning to take over his beard left you fighting the urge to reach out and twirl your fingers into it. Despite the fact that there was a hint of a smile on his face, you could see the exhaustion in his eyes, the stress he was holding in his brows.

After a few beats of silence, you spoke up, “You seem like a man in need of a vacation, Bishop.”

He laughed, shrugging his shoulders, “Can’t say that I’m not,” he paused, “You offering to take me on one?”

Heat flooded your entire face, and you hoped you sounded more confidence in your response than you felt, “Well, you already rode this far. What’s a little more?”

He smiled and it made you glad that you were seated, that the weakness in your knees had no real repercussions, “But who would be taking attendance at the bar?”

Chuckling, you shook your head, “I’m sure they’d get along just fine. I think the real question, presidente,” you nodded towards the patch on his chest, “is: who would be in charge if you took off?”

He looked over at you, his eyes searching yours, “Guess it wouldn’t really be my problem at that point, right? I’d be gone.”

“For good?” your voice had a teasing tone to it.

He gladly took the fresh beer that the bartender brought him, “Depends,” he took a long drink, “would I be going alone? Or would you be going with me?”

“You don’t even know if I’m a good passenger yet,” you laughed.

He turned slightly so that he was facing you more directly, “I think you’d do just fine,” he set his bottle down, his fingers brushing lightly against your forearm.

The look in his eyes made your face flush, the light but calculated touch making your skin spark, “You’re a little reckless, aren’t you, Bishop?”

He paused, one end of his mouth twisting into a smirk, “That such a bad thing?” The question hung in the air for a few seconds before his fingers crept and landed completely onto your forearm, the rough pads and callouses of his palm somehow feeling gentle against your skin, “That a no to the vacation offer?”

You smiled, trying to speak through the burning sensation in your cheeks, “I didn’t say that,” you took a steadying breath, “But I would like to know the man who is, hypothetically of course, going to whisk me away on the back of his bike.”

He chuckled, thumb tracing idly back and forth on your arm, “Then what, in this hypothetical situation, would you want to know about me?”

“How much time you got?” you laughed.

He gave your arm an almost-imperceptible squeeze, “All the time in the world.”

[wouldpollyapprove]

All War Can Touch

Request: hiya, please can i request an angsty tommy with the prompts 9, 11 and 18 x 

hiya, please can i request a one shot in which the reader is tommy's wife before the war and like they have a couple of kids but in season 1 he meets grace and shit goes down for real? xx

Requested by @i-volunteer-for-finnick & Anonymous

Thomas Shelby x Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: neglect, language, pregnancy, alcohol

A/N: I must warn you guys, I didn’t do much editing for this. I was lazy and didn’t want to. @nemesis729 went over it for me and I’m grateful for that. If it’s trash, that’s my fault cause I know I should have edited. But that’s effort. Anyway, I will have the second part out shortly because I can’t seem to write oneshots anymore, they always have to have a second part cause I’m too lazy to write one long fic.

Masterlist 

Part Two / Part Three

“I’ll get us some drinks,” Tommy stated, kissing his wife on the cheek before he slid out of the booth in the private room, an action that had become rare since he’d returned from war. A foot out the door and his wife’s voice, no more than a whisper, hit his ears. With a sigh, he turned back to face her, rolling his eyes. “What was that?”

Looking up from her nails, Y/n shrugged, “Nothing, dear.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, he leaned against the doorway, not intending to leave until she spoke her peace. “Why are you lying?”

“It doesn’t matter, Tommy. Go get our drinks,” she waved him away, hoping he would drop the subject. But as he was a Shelby, he couldn’t do that.

“No, tell me what you said.” His face held no expression, features flat and tight, but his eyes… they held a storm. There was a storm of anger and hate brewing in them, the rain that would pour from the clouds was full of hurt, but Y/n couldn’t understand why. She was the one that deserved to have that storm brewing inside her. She was the one that had been walked all over. 

Mirroring his stance, arms crossed over her chest, she huffed. “Fine, you want to know what I said?” Her husband nodded, irritated that she was taking her time. “I said, ‘Your girlfriend can get them for us.’” Her words were bitter as they rolled off her tongue. 

Tommy was unfazed, simply rolling his eyes in response. Y/n wasn’t sure what reaction she wanted, but that wasn’t it. “Don’t do this here,” he groaned.

“Why not? It’s either here or in front of our children, which would you like? Your bitch to know she may have you after all or your children to know they live in a broken home? Which do you want, Tommy?”

The man rolled his eyes, hand falling to his side, and he stepped out into the bar. Composing herself, Y/n stood and flattened the wrinkles out of her dress. She wasn’t going to have a drink with him, the man that once loved her, when he spent most of his time eyeing the barmaid. Instead, she grabbed her coat, resting her hat snugly against her head and stepped out of the room. 

“I hope you know, not answering my question, answers it,” she called to him as she walked to the door, not willing to look back to see he didn’t even glance her way.

Y/n wanted to go back in time. To a time before the war, when they were just to young lovers who smiled at the world. She wanted to go back to her husband that would bring her flowers and dreamt of building his family a cottage. Desperately, she wanted to grasp her hands on the fabric of that man’s tie, the man that spent his nights at home, rocking his children to sleep and dancing with the love of his life, and keep him tucked away from the war.

The war… that’s what had done this.

The fucking war came knocking on their door and Tommy, an hounerable man, couldn’t pass up the fight. Leaving his children and wife behind, he became a new man, one that was unrecognizable at heart. Though he looked older, his heart was black and his mind was broken. That’s what war did, it broke the strong, Y/n knew. But she never thought it would tear her family apart in the most unexpected way.

Sitting across from Polly in the parlor, Y/n could hear her children playing in the next room. Ben was giving his sister orders as they played with their toy horses, the ruckus echoing throughout the house. A smile tugged at her lips, but she was in no mood to give into it.

“Did you tell him?” Polly asked, pouring tea into the cups that sat at the coffee table. Y/n shook her head, taking one of the cups in her hand. “You’re going to have to tell him soon, dear. Tommy’s a smart man, he’ll put it together.”

Shaking her head, she leaned against the back of the chair, resting her head against the soft fabric. The woman across from her followed her movement, waiting for her to look her in the eye but Y/n couldn’t. She couldn’t look Polly in the eye, the woman who was like a mother to her, and let her see how broken she was. “I’m not going to tell him,” she finally muttered, saying the words aloud for the first time.

Bewildered, Polly set down her cup and replaced it with one of Y/n’s hands. “What are you going to do, then?” Voice laced with worry, she never knew what the young woman had to put up with, none of the Shelbys did.

“I’m leaving Tommy.” There was silence as she slipped her hands out of Polly’s grasp and sipped on her tea.

“The war may have changed him but it didn’t destroy him, Y/n,” she scolded her like a mother does a child, causing Y/n to roll her eyes. “Where are you going, then? Your parents hate you for marrying a gpspy and those closest to you are close to your husband as well. And what about the children? What about your baby?”

A sigh escaped her lips as she placed her cup on the table. “Polly—” Y/n folded her hands in her lap. “—it doesn’t matter where I go. Anywhere is better than where he is. He no longer loves me, it’s clear when he slaps me in the face by flirting with the fucking barmaid,” she seethed, remembering the day she first caught her husband too close to the blonde barmaid for her comfort. 

“He won’t touch me unless it’s to tell others I’m his. At home, he would rather be with the children than me and when in bed, he won’t even look at me.” Tears were swelling in her eyes, a hand going to caress her slightly swollen belly. “This baby is a miracle considering I’m like filth to him.”

“Have you talked to him about it?”

Had she talked to him about it? Y/n wanted to laugh at the question, of course she had. Tommy knew exactly how she felt. First, she was subtle about it, small hints that any man would understand. But Tommy ignored them just like he did her. And then, she became more verbal about it. Why hide what he already knew? Y/n was furious, hurt, by his actions. She was once the love of his life and if he no longer wanted her then she wanted to know. Being tortured by seeing what he refused to give her wasn’t something she wanted to live with. 

She sighed, nodding in response.

“And he doesn’t care,” Polly shook her head, disappointment shining like a beacon in her eyes. Out of all the Shelby men, she thought her nephew would be the opposite of his father. Before the war, he was a loving man. A family man. After, she thought that man was still in there somewhere, but she should have known better. All the nights Y/n brought the kids over, Tommy nowhere in sight, and the days he stayed in the office until the sun rose the next morning should have sounded an alarm. But with the boys home from war, like everyone else, Polly wanted to believe things would settle back into some sort of normal. She was wrong. “If you have a place to stay, I’ll help you pack.”

“My brother and his wife have offered to let me stay with them for as long as needed,” Y/n informed her. “I’d like to leave now, if you don’t mind, since Grace is entertaining my husband.”

Polly nodded, getting to her feet, gesturing for Y/n to follow her as they packed bags for the kids. 

Y/n never wanted to leave her husband. She believed that Tommy would come to his senses and at least be kinder to her. 

During the war, she missed his touch. The fingers that lingered after a soft kiss. The arms that would encase her as she slept. The warmth that radiated off him when their skin touched. But the war was over and she found herself longing for the exact things she once believed would return to her. Longing for the man she still loved. That’s what hurt the most. Her love for him had never wavered and if they didn’t have children, perhaps, she would wait for years for him to love her once more. 

But that simply couldn’t be done when she looked down at the two small beings playing on the floor. Y/n didn’t want them to grow up and believe that it was acceptable to settle for what was given to them. She wanted them to know their worth and know that they deserved love. That couldn’t be done if they grew up seeing their mother throw herself away for a man who wouldn’t do the same. 

With their bags all packed, she didn’t regret a thing as her brother pulled up in his car. Ben and Julie were beyond impressed with the object that shone in the evening sun, asking their uncle for a ride before he could even get out of the car. “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked, approaching his sister with his niece on his hip. 

“I am. Tommy made his bed. Now he has to sleep in it.” She smiled sadly and picked up a bag. Once all the bags were in the car, the children along with them, Y/n turned to Polly. The woman was on the verge of tears, Y/n didn’t blame her. This was not the evening either of them were expecting. 

“Thank you,” she whispered, embracing her. 

Slowly pulling away, Polly glanced between her and the children, who were snuggled up in blankets. “You take care of them, you hear? And write to me everyday, tell me how things go.” Y/n nodded, squeezing her hand. 

“You deserve better than this and, by god, you will get what you deserve, I know it.” With that, Polly pushed Y/n towards the car. Who knew when Tommy would be home and she didn’t want him to pitch a fit over something he’d done.

“Be safe, Pol.”

“I will,” she smiled and the car roared to life, slowly making its way down Watery Lane and out of sight.

*~~*~~*

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