#they can try and try and try and try but it will always end the same way
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dear-ao3 · 1 day ago
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by popular request: how to write an email
a disclaimer that this is the specific kind of email you send when people are absolutely smiting you and you know a phone call or an in person meeting is not possible/will not help. like youre 12 emails deep in an email chain and going in circles. youve been re routed to 13 offices 4 separate times. those kind of emails.
credentials: ive taken something like 13 semesters of college (dont ask) and every single semester have had to fight at least 3 offices for varying reasons in order to take classes. (including one time where i was shorted 5k in financial aid. i ended up getting 200 more dollars than i needed in the end) also my dad taught me everything he knows about emails (hes a tradesman turned corporate man and most of his job consists of telling people (nicely) that what theyre doing sucks and makes absolutely no sense)
Step 1: figure out who the email needs to go go
there is nothing wrong with emailing 11 million people if it gets the job done. if someone isnt helping you and you Know that they Should Be feel free to start to copy their boss on the email. copy your boss on an email. (or advisor or whoever). even if you think the person might only be like Vaguely helpful, sometimes people know people.
also theres nothing wrong with emailing the same email to several departments. sometimes you have to make a lot of noise to get something done (again. as like a last resort. dont email 11 million people right out of the gate)
Step 2: remember to be Polite
a very tempting step to ignore especially when you are 13 thousand emails deep in problems. but! if you are not nice to them! they will probably continue to smite you in the future! you want to make friends! not foes! so no matter how much people are smiting you, try to resist the urge to be an utter dipshit because it will not get the job done. vent to a friend or a coworker and send your polite and nice email
Step 3: articulate the problem Clearly.
a very important step. especially if you are adding more people to your email chain. dont assume they know your exact problem. they probably are dealing with other problems. articulate Clearly what is happening, no matter how long the email may be. its far better to get a long and detailed email rather than a non helpful short one. that will only prolong the process of how long it takes the problem to get solved.
Step 4: cite your reciepts.
wildly important. send your screenshots your attachments your whatever the fucking fuck youve got. its always good to have a paper trail. this is also where you would state any previously attempts to have the problem Sorted (ie i reached out to x person on x y and z days about x problem and it is still not resolved). you would not believe how many people dont scroll down in an email, especially a forwarded/replied one. so summarize whats Down There in your most recent email
Step 5: use the appropriate lingo
you dont have to be Overly Formal but there are a few good Buzz Sentences that usually get the job done. for example:
As Per My Last Email: a great line. emphasizes that youve already mentioned this. and this is not the first time youre mentioning this point. also emphasizes that the Thing has yet to be solved
See Attached/See Below: under utilized. again. people do not open attachments and they do not scroll down. almost had a friend once fail a class because a professor gas lit them in an email chain saying they didnt receive the final paper when the paper itself was attached earlier in the email chain. be Painfully Literal. it pays off.
Help Me To Understand: this is one of my dad's favorite lines. it really shows that you have no fucking idea what the person youre emailing is getting at and youre offering them the opportunity to spell out their nonsense for you. so that you can then be like. well. clearly This is where the miscommunication lies. its a great line. has saved my ass many times. because it is not accusing it is just offering someone to understand. it does not attack. it just is.
Step 6: give a polite sign off.
something along the lines of "thank you in advance for any help" or "i look forward to hearing from you" does the job. something that sends the message you are not pissed to shit at them even if you are.
Step 7: follow up and follow up often.
polite email response time is 48 business hours/2 business days. if it has been longer than that you have every right to email back and say hi x person just following up on this email, have you had the chance to review it yet? again. keep it polite. you actually want them to help you. and if they still dont respond well then maybe its time to loop in a boss or a supervisor or whoever the hell else. dont be afraid to go above them if you need to. nothing wrong with getting shit done when it needs to get done.
and really, if all that fails, as my dad says, a little office bribe in the form of cookies has never hurt anyone :)
so an email. should be formatted something like this:
Greetings/Good Morning (Afternoon) (Person)
I hope this email finds you well (or something similar for a greeting). I am reaching out regarding X incident/problem/whatever the fuck it is. I have previously reached out to X person on X dates and (summary of whatever they did or didnt do). See below/attached emails/pdf/screenshot/document (if applicable)
(explanation of the problem in as simple and detailed terms as possible. have someone re read it to make sure that it cannot be misconstrued)
(explanation of what you are looking for as a solution)
Please help me to understand why this (solution) has not been able to be reached. (explain you are on x timeline if the situation is urgent)
Kind regards/Thank you for any help in advance/I look forward to hearing from you etc,
email signature
go forth and conquer your emails. remember, sometimes you have to be a squeaky wheel. and in my million cases of email sending, it has ALWAYS paid off and i have gotten the problems solved. dont be afraid of the emails they can help you.
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remxedmoon · 22 hours ago
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your friends don’t know what to do.
so!! i redrew every single enemy in the game. in the span of like 9 days (excluding the king i made him right after the last update). that’s abbbout 79* drawings total, with only 3 custom ones for once!! i’m so normal. as always, these are free to use with credit!! go nuts!! spritesheets are included <3
got some notes under the cut, along with As Many Enemies As I Could Fit without making this post obnoxiously long. and i failed. i had to swap between the app and browser several times and i still couldn’t fit every drawing. open this post at your own risk (silly).
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okay so first of all. what’s with the asterisk. well. I Drew A Lot More Than 79 Assets Actually. they’re getting posted separately, because this post is ABSURDLY long. you can find most of them in the miscellaneous folder, but for a bit of clarity, i added the teleport map and a bunch of ui elements that reference sprites from the icon sheet. and also the game over and loop back animations but i haven’t finished the spritesheets for those because they’re a pain in the ass so they’re not in the drive yet
if you missed my complaining a few days ago, a few enemies might look a bit crunchy in the actual game? specifically, calamité and désespoir were drawn at the wrong size, because their images in the files do not match the spritesheets! i avoided the issue with most of the other enemies, those two just blindsided me. sorry about that!
^sadnesses having inconsistent designs was actually a running theme with these. dĂ©tresse rock has an unused design in the files (which i managed to catch before having to redo it thankfully), anxiĂ©tĂ© has extra spikes that don’t appear on the spritesheet (sorry i was too lazy to fix that one), even the version of the friend rescue in the files doesn’t match any of the frames in the spritesheet. hfjfhfj. sorry about the quality issues.
tangentially related to that, massive thank you to @riggedbones for grabbing the individual frames for the animations for me!! they made my life so much easier. vs friends would’ve been so annoying

speaking of the animations! hi can you tell i’m not an animator. these were my first time doing Anything animation related since, like, middle school. super sorry for the Jank in some of these! the friend rescue looked way better when i drew it 💔💔.
bourdon’s hands also might act a bit odd, my apologies. the sizing ingame is SUPER inconsistent (why is one of the hands SMALLER than the other????). once i’m able to actually test the mod, i’ll try to fix it wauaua.
the 3 custom sprites are for the triplets! i ended up making two versions for each, one that follows the ingame art, and one with my personal designs for them. i like my own designs for them, but they’re a lot easier to tell apart? so if you want to use the ones that fit the gimmick better, they’re also in the drive 👍
this update. was originally going to have way more custom art. i’ve actually got an act 6 siffrin enemy asset in my art program! but school started and i decided it’d be better to just get the normal stuff done. so the mod can actually come out in a reasonable timeframe. promise that’ll all come out Later! sorry about the wait 😓😓😓
also adding this because i almost forgot: no i don’t know if these are compatible with sasasaap. i don’t have the game still and it’s not my main priority atm, apologies!
okay! that was a lot! and there’s a ton of art down here! thank you for reading all this, i’ll be back with the game over animations and teleport map pretty soon! like. within the weekend. enjoy!!!
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dreamsteddie · 1 day ago
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Steve and Eddie who kind of flop in life and end up poor, living in a trailer in a different small town living quiet lives of no import.
The kids, Robin, Nancy, and Johnathan all seem to take the small handful of opportunities offered to them by the government in the aftermath of the Upsidedown to take off and make something of their lives. They're off writing headlines, making news, and living their lives to the best of their abilities, but Steve and Eddie find themselves stuck.
Steve stayed in Hawkins until the kids graduated and left for college. By then Nancy, Johnathan, and Robin are all in their second or third years of college. John and Nancy have their own apartment in New York together and don't reach out all that often, only seeing the rest of the Hawkins crew on Holidays and some vacations. Robin is flourishing at an all-women's college in Maine and has a partner and a cat and plans for graduate school brewing. She's always saying Steve can come out and join her whenever he's ready, but when the time comes it feels like he would just be trying to insert himself in the middle of a life he doesn't know how to fit into, so he turns to Eddie instead.
Eddie is permanently disabled in a number of ways following the events of season four. He struggles with chronic pain, has breathing issues due to the loss of part of his right lung, and lost enough muscle mass in his left leg that walking will never be easy or done without the use of a walker or arm bar crutches. The doctors said he recovered as well as he could have. The kids said he would get better with time. Wayne said it didn't matter if he never got better, he could do anything he set his mind to.
Steve is the only person who tells him the truth.
Steve tells him that it sucks. Tells him that it will probably always hurt. Doesn't give him false hope when he's trying to grieve the loss of the life he wanted to live. The goals he wanted to reach. When he falls deeper and deeper into himself, stuck in the muck of depression, Steve is the only person he lets in. The kids try their best but their lives are moving fast, and taking care of someone like Eddie is exhausting, no matter what they try to say. Eventually, everyone but Dustin gives up on reaching out, the younger boy showing up every Sunday to try and get Eddie out of the house. He always leaves disappointed.
When Steve asks him if he wants to use what's left of their partly government payouts and Steve's equally meager Family Video savings to buy a truly shitty trailer in a town an hour and a half south of Hawkins in the fall of 1990, it feels like the first boon he's been given in almost five years. He'll never be who he could have been if he had ignored Chrissy that day in 86', but he's always thought maybe he could be more than a ghost between Wayne's walls if he could just get out of this god-forsaken town full of people who know too much and too little of what's happened to him.
They get the trailer, pack what little they have, let Wayne hug them close, and leave.
Steve has already transferred to their new town's Family Video, moving up to claim the dubious honor of being the opening manager. Mostly he just unlocks the door, signs into the computer, and makes sure nothing catches fire. Eddie hoped that moving would miraculously make him fit to enter back into the world, but he spends most of his days with a blanket on the front porch, watching people pass by. He does, though, finally accept that he needs to apply for disability to help Steve keep the lights on and the water hot. That last little bit of hope that he could be what he used to be dies, but he's learning to be content with what he does have. He starts taking a walk, just ten minutes around the loop of the trailer park saying hi and trading polite nods with his fellow residents. He's not ok, but he's starting to build a new community of people not too different from himself.
The new trailer only has one bedroom. Eddie sleeps on a fold-out mattress in the living room. It had been a major argument when they first moved in with Steve insisting that Eddie needed the bed. Eddie argued that it wasn't fair for him to take the room when Steve was the one working 40 hours a week to keep them afloat. In the end, Eddie was the more stubborn of the two. It helps that Eddie has absolutely no qualms about crawling into bed with Steve on the nights when the couch bed really won't cut it for his aching body. Steve never questions it, just shuffles over a little and lets the other man in.
Steve doesn't question a lot of stuff.
He doesn't question when all their effects are shared between them with no effort to distinguish between yours and mine, Eddie's and Steve's. He doesn't question it four months in when Eddie starts to get his feet under him and decides to take up cooking, always trying his best to have everything done just as Steve walks through the door. He doesn't question when a good chunk of Eddie's first disability check goes to buying Steve a sturdy, if not very fashionable, new watch for his birthday since his old one went bust almost a year ago.
He doesn't question it when Eddie holds his hand for the first time under the stars hanging above their front porch.
He doesn't question it when Eddie introduces him to one of his new neighbor friends with a hand resting comfortably on his lower back
He doesn't question it when Eddie starts sleeping in the bedroom every night.
Or makes him box mix cupcakes for Valentine's Day.
Or kisses him for the first time on the couch that's never a bed unless they want to spend the day binge-watching bargain bin films.
Because really, isn't this how it was always going to go? Wasn't this exactly what Steve was asking when he asked Eddie to skip town with him?
Isn't this what Eddie was hoping for when he said yes?
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kiss-me-muchoo · 3 days ago
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đđąđ„đšđ«đąđœđšđ­đž || 𝐭𝐡𝐞 đŹđšđ„đžđŹđŠđšđ§ đ± 𝐟𝐞𝐩!đ«đžđšđđžđ«
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summary_ when you declined to play Ddakji with a man, the least you expected was him stalking you, even less expected when you oblige him to lick your bleeding wound after seeing him kill a man and escaping him.
warnings_ MDNI, age gap (not specified but legal) reader is a foreigner (implied American but not specified again), stalking, blood play, dom!salesman, switch!reader, toxic till the end, sexual innuendos, manipulation, questionable morals, do not romanticize this irl pls, NO PROOFREAD YET
notes_ I’ll just drop this fic and leave it there bc why am i feeling so horny for an Asian sociopath? me la estoy pasando bien raro (i like it)
♫ â™Ș the worst playlist 4 this man
✰ Index (+ fics here)
ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈
Everything was irritating. The class you had was canceled last minute, the crowd at the train station was loud, the tapping of a kid in a window was constant, and the message you received asking for your campus ID to keep using your student account was sudden and required immediate action. Your cramps and migraine only aggravate everything.
You were steps away from the stairs when you stopped to take the damn picture of your ID and be done with that. But of course, you couldn’t find your wallet at first glance, so you moved aside to take a better look.
You worried about kneeling and ruining your black coat with the dirtiness of the floor at the station, but at the same time, you thought it was just stupid.
A trail of curses flooded your mind as you tried to find your wallet, making you oblivious to a random man walking in your direction.
“Excuse me, Miss
 Would you like to play Ddakji?” Said the man asked you in Korean. You were occupied with a hand inside your thrifted designer tote, and your mind unconsciously prepared an answer in English.
“Sorry, I don’t have time” When you realized your mid-answer you sighed, just as you fished out your wallet. “For every win of yours, you’ll earn a great sum of cash”
Once you stood up, you met the face of the man who now answered in English as well. Very tall, handsome, innocent smile and in a suit; a businessman. You knew it was wrong to judge but there was something behind the smile he offered you that resulted eerie.
Like behind that seemingly blameless expression, the man was hiding his true intentions.
Might’ve been your eyes or hair that caught his attention. You weren’t native, and he didn’t want to think he could take advantage, yet his feet dragged him to you.
Placing your bag over your shoulder again, you grab your glasses and phone with tangled EarPods. You give the man one last look. You are not having a good day and you don’t have time to deal with this.
“What do you say?” He asks feigning kindness, eyeing you subtly without your knowledge.
“No, thank you. I don’t even know how the game works”
“You look like you are a natural. You might be surprised if you try. You just have to pick a color and try to flip the opposing tile”
The rich always trying to fuck the one who isn’t. This was just a new way. The urge to roll your eyes grew but you remained still.
“Look, I’m sorry. But I bet you do this just to see how desperate people who need money can go. I won’t be one of them. If not, sorry for misjudging you” you harshly say before putting on your EarPods and leaving the station. You leave him perplexed, huffing in disbelief and igniting a fire of curiosity inside him.
And you completely forgot about the Ddakji man as you made it to your little apartment, not knowing he would turn upside down your upcoming days.


Warm days in winter were exciting for you. They boosted your energy and made you want to be out all day.
You had the luck of living in a beautiful complex because it was once from a friend of your mother who married years ago and now had her single apartment for rent.
It had long warm hallways that hosted at least eight apartments by floor. With orange and pink subtle lights and uneven edges. It was truly a sight despite how little the apartments were. One bedroom with closet and bathroom, a tiny studio, small kitchen, enough space for a dining table, another small bathroom, and a half sized living room with balcony.
Your loneliness was well-balanced because you loved your home. But even on warm days, you wanted to be out.
Your red shoes contrasted with everything you stepped on. You carried a bag with a bunch of books and another one with thrifted clothes you bought.
At the park you always walked by, there was a fair amount of people as usual. You don’t care much to look around but someone makes you stare longer than needed.
The same man who asked if you wanted to play a game at the station was in the park. Another impeccable suit dressing him, looking attractive like the first time and already looking at you.
He offered you a smile, to which you didn’t reply. You looked at the ground, feeling like you had frozen.
What a weirdo, he offered bread and a random paper to a lonely man.
Simultaneously, you wondered if the man found you attractive enough to stare like that. With your mind that often became nihilistic, you thought you were delusional and that you should just keep walking.
His eyes remained glued to you. As his prey was thinking about what was better to choose, he contemplated you walking again.
The salesman realized he had made you nervous and that made him feel eager to end his job and follow you again.
Once he realized you lived in a good neighborhood, where his elegant suits matched the vibe, he got even more excited to see you again.
So now, was like it was meant to be.
How sweet, sophisticated, and innocent you looked.
Something shifted, as you passed by his side, only having a view of his back, you assumed he was worked out, his hair looked perfectly fine, and his big hands offered two things. Perhaps you had misjudged him and he really wanted to help. But your inner voice said otherwise. In a sudden change of events, you decided to look back once you were almost at the exit of the park.
With his deep gaze still set on you, your lips formed a smile.
And he took it as a first win in the games that had begun between you two.


Once again, you find yourself in the library. Inside one of the biggest malls you’ve been to, you are leaning at a counter, asking if they have an English translation of a book you were interested in.
Your Korean isn’t good enough yet, so as the nice librarian disappeared to find your request, you are working on your next reply, with a translation app.
“Do you recommend me this one?” your back arched as a startled reflex. You quickly stand straight and turn around to see the person you grew anxious to avoid and see again. The salesman is there, looking down at you with a perfectly orchestrated smile.
“Huh?” you ask disconcertingly, he shows you a book, his face looking like he had found a wounded little bird. But it was only you, startled and nervous by his strong presence.
The book is The Divine Comedy. Dante Alighieri.
“Certainly is a good one. A lot of heavenly justice
” you say trying to sound confident, looking at the cover of the book. Displaying the layers that separated heaven from hell. “Do you believe in heavenly justice?”
“I don’t know. We can’t call someone a sinner without a proper trial beforehand” he chuckles, which makes you frown for a second. He truly was unpredictable and you didn’t like that. “Ah, sinners. Always misjudged and harshly punished for being the ones who have the guts to make things
” his deep voice and tone made you wonder if he was self-perceived as a sinner, which made you feel worse.
“You sound like an ethnocentric
”
“I don’t think I’m far into that type of thinking, y/n” Your eyes almost popped out, leaving your hands in an anxious tremble.
“How is it possible that you know my name?” Before he can even answer, you add more. “You are stalking me”
His demonic smile makes your heart stop. The smile you once thought had innocence can’t blind you anymore. He isn’t innocent. He literally confirmed he was stalking you and you didn’t know how to feel.
“I don’t like the idea that conveys the word ‘stalking’. We can call it predestination
” you huff in disbelief. “What do you want with me?”
“I would like to get to know the woman who rejected my Ddakji offer. And ask for one more game” Your lips form a line, and quietly you are hating how much you are enjoying the conversation.
“Hmm, I’m bad at most games, so I’m afraid I will reject you once again” You turned back again to see if the librarian was coming when you felt him stepping closer, which made you feel nervous again.
“I might believe you. I always win
” he whispered in your ear, sending shivers through your spine and creating a lot of tension.
Your psycho mode almost made you lean forward again, daring to see if some friction was possible. But you didn’t, trying to be prudent and acting sane.
“I would’ve wanted a normal first interaction and this time you should’ve asked me out on a date. That’s how it works where I come from but
 here, I guess not” he stepped aside as the librarian handed you the book. And as you thanked her and turned to leave and pay somewhere else, he took out a card and handed it to you.
“I’m sure we can work on some sort of arrangement. Here, you may call me
” slightly irritated that he didn’t say much about your inquiry, you snatched the card and walked away.
The cathartic feelings of wanting to keep talking to him and running away from him at the same time resulted in excruciating. It didn’t make sense, the point of him was to nowhere. Being clueless about his age, name, and everything made it feel wrong. Yet, curiosity was starting to burn you.


Like a miracle, the heavens moved and sprinkled some luck above you. You found some friends on campus, they spoke English like you and were foreigners as well. One of them was a friend of the owner of a club and invited you for the night.
The invitation made you forgetful about your salesman, whom you hadn’t talked with since the encounter in the library. The card he handed the last time rested between the book you bought the same day, making you unable to read more because it reminded you of the encounter with him.
It resulted unknown to you when was that your life had turned over the edge of becoming twisted. Your feelings for a mysterious man who seemed more accusable than appeared remained undecided.
He made you feel like a wildfire and a caged bird at the same time. Delicate but menacing.
He seemed older than you, professional in a field, mature and imposing. Which you didn’t mind when he appeared to ask you about The Divine Comedy. Either way, you were playing but couldn’t risk anything. Especially in a country where you didn’t know how everything worked.
After getting out of the shower, your thoughts on the salesman are completely faded. You slip on a sequin dress and paint your eyes with glitter and a smokey style.
Thereafter, at the club you let yourself go and have a wild night. Between classes, essays, and the issue with the salesman, you needed a time out.
Everything feels nice when you take a bathroom break and you smile at your reflection. You know you are close to being drunk, it’s the most enjoyable stage of ingesting alcohol.
“Hey, let’s go dancing, I couldn’t find you before!” Yells one of your friends after you reunite with the little group. You nod excitedly, taking her hand and letting her take you to the dance floor.
The music reminded you of that time when spinnin records were a trend and everyone played their mixes at parties back at home. As you move along the track, you don’t look at anything in particular, you just feel interesting and sexy. But your eyes end up giving a quick glance at one table, almost making you stop your euphoric moment.
You swore you saw your salesman.
Looking around you don’t see him, so you return dancing but the odd sensation in your chest doesn’t let you rest.
“What happens?” Asks another friend, looking worried.
“Nothing. Just thought I saw someone. Never mind
” you shake your head, smiling and convincing them that everything is fine.
But once they got more drunk, you walked out, despite curiosity, you wanted to confirm if the tall gorgeous man was near you.
Rarely you bring up to question your life decisions. Not because you thought you were perfect, but because you easily accepted your errors.
And it wasn’t hard to accept you completely messed up by getting out of the club. Where the night was colder, and some steps away from the main entrance, the crowd was loud. A man could be heard pleading and sobbing, which made you fearful but eager to see what was happening.
You peeked at the alley beside the club. A wave of shock flooded you once you noticed another man was punching the one who yelped and sobbed for forgiveness.
Your salesman was the attacker.
“Please! I’ll pay everything back!” Your mind raced back to the moment you spotted your salesman inside the club minutes ago.
His dark grey suit didn’t fit the aura of the place, but he seemed to be talking with the same man he was now punching.
It was obvious at that point that he wasn’t a good man. He made fun of making people play his seemingly innocent games to later laugh in the face whenever they lost. He was never flirting with you, the odd feeling of uncertainty you felt with him was right.
You had to go. You had to burn the card he gave you, avoid the station where you met him, and forget about his face.
There’s panic in your system, your heart beats fast and nausea starts coming up your throat.
You want to get immediately drunk and forget everything you saw with a hangover. You need it.
But you don’t get very far. Midway through the stairs that conduct to the club, a hand holds your forearm with extreme pressure and drags you inside a private room.
Your salesman finally found you.


“You just killed a man!” you almost yelled as soon as he pushed you inside and closed the door.
The room was very fancy like the club. It had a big desk near a window, flower-shaped hanging lamps, black sparkly floor tiles, and a sage velvet couch.
Your salesman slides his fingers through his hair and looks at the ceiling before turning to you. One hand still carrying the murder weapon.
“He deserved it” was all he answered and you take a breath. In need of an alibi, you opened a random fridge in the room and grabbed a beer. Your salesman watched how you sipped at the can. He knew you were feeling a mix of curiosity and disgust for him.
Once you drink at least half of the content, you sigh, brushing aside some hair and walking towards him.
“Who are you?” you ask pleadingly, desperate to know how far you’ve gone for him.
“Eventually you’ll know” he sounds cold, calculating, and menacing. “You didn’t call
”
He was taking advantage of your vulnerability.
“I met you a week ago, I don’t even know your name” you admit with shame and dissatisfaction.
For the first time, he genuinely touches you. Hands straight to your waist, making gasp in surprise.
“You’re smart and will eventually understand. You’re my good girl”
His good girl
.
What was left to do when you have a sociopath holding your waist with the same hands he had used to kill a man? Play along, even if you are terrified.
What had been your horrified face, slowly ends up in a smirk, tilting your head, squandering cheekiness. “I’m not your good girl, sir”
He slowly leaned back, taking a seat on the sage couch, one of his hands going straight to rest behind his head, against the wall. He twirled the knife against his knee, making you uneasy, but confident about your upcoming words.
“If I walk away, you can’t do much with me, I’m a foreigner. Sure the authorities would dismantle whatever dirty job you’re into and that’s a big no-no” you explain, and feeling a little too bold, you step between his legs.
“Your lack of ignorance amazes me” he admits, offering you a cocky smile. “It makes me even more infatuated”
Your left knee pushed aside his hand twirling the knife. He remained still but sure seemed slightly surprised when you ended up straddling him. With your hands glued to his dark tie, putting it into place.
“Hmm, well, be careful. I am no threat, I barely have valuable skills to get rid of you but I know I could be a problem. So I guess I won, sir
” you allow yourself to smile, following a path with your fingers, from his tie to his cheeks and nose, softly tracing his pale skin.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about, sweetheart” You knew he was trying to be in control, and the best part was that you weren’t fighting for it.
“There’s a lot I might not understand. I’m just a girl who happened to be in this city for a temporary academic project” When your lips brushed his, you couldn’t deny he was so fucking hot, you wished he wasn’t so weird and probably part of a mafia or cult or whatever. “You are the grown-ass man who got obsessed with me”
“I just find you an odd but interesting player, sweet girl” he tried to use his innocent smile but it was useless when you grabbed him by the shoulders and finally dared to kiss him.
He controlled it the moment he touched you again. His hands had a possessive sting and firmly grabbed you by the hips. One of them still holding the knife.
Feeling bold, with adrenaline flowing freely, you softly bit his lower lip. You knew it was over when he almost let out a moan, and after checking he had his eyes closed, you literally jumped away from him.
Without looking back, you started running. Your clumsy steps turn frantic, knowing damn well he would start following you soon. As you literally start pushing people to get out, your heart beats faster than ever and you have a growing anxiety, begging you to stop and breathe.
Once the cold air hit you, as you took a cab and saw no sign of your salesman, confusion struck you and you saw the blood in your chest and arm.
“Are you alright, girl?” The driver asked, also watching your bleeding state.
“Yes, just an accident, I’m okay” he nods unsure, but starts driving after you give him your destination.
His knife must’ve sliced your skin when you stood up from his lap. When he moved one of his big hands to caress your chin.
It wasn’t that you were scared of him, of your salesman. Although you should be; but you weren’t. Could it be that the worst part was that you were attracted to him? Even after watching him kill a man? You were screwed.
You realize the reason why you always ran away from him is because you don’t know how to face his unpredictable demeanor.
At that point, you didn’t know what he wanted. Only that he was obsessed with you. But his intentions remained a mystery unsolved.
Before getting out of the cab, you pay and send your friends a message that you left early because you got a headache after vomiting. This didn’t happen, but would’ve been better to experience it as a young woman in her twenties.


When you opened the door, he was already inside. The worst part is that you weren’t surprised anymore. You only stood at the feet of the door, looking at him with uneasiness.
“You got me worried,” he says, stopping his movements around your table. “You left some blood stains and I thought it was serious”
“You accidentally showed me your true nature. A little bit of blood shouldn’t scare you” his shirt indeed had some bloody spots, his blazer was gone, and the sleeves of his messy shirt were rolled up. You hated that your first thought was that he looked very hot.
He moved and took a seat at one of your tables. He sighed and you realized that perhaps he was also screwed up. For letting himself go too far for you.
“I don’t regret any encounter we’ve had,” he says. “Me neither”
He can’t stop staring at your bloodstained dress and you notice.
Fuck everything, you thought.
I’m attracted to him, he’s attracted to me, What’s the worst thing that could happen? (I don’t want to know).
“Silly boy, look what you did to me,” you say looking at the soaked fabric.
Something possessed you at that moment. Your hands went straight to lift your dress. His eyes trailed your sparkly underwear, your lower belly, and your ribs that rose and fell as you breathed.
Your hands twirl behind your back to unhook your bra; also soaked, throwing it to the floor.
Your salesman is quiet, his innocent smile about to fall because you know you have taken him by surprise.
Likely you’ll get a scar. The would-be slightly deep, an uneven line that passed from your neck to your shoulder.
You step forward, confidently eyeing him.
“Clean it” he tried to stand up, probably to grab a med kit but you stopped him with your heel. “With your mouth. Lick it clean
”
He gulped.
His manspread became the only thing you could care about. How he eyed you with lust and possession for some seconds, and then to lean forwards.
Once again his hands landed on the curves of your hips and he made you step up, leaving him inches away from you.
Your sudden surgation grew and his hot tongue finally made contact with your skin.
You savored the feeling of his tongue, knowing he wouldn’t clean anything but the semi-dry blood over your breast. He was only making a mess.
Then, he lifts his head and catches your lips in a sullied kiss. The way he held you, made you understand how he always wanted control. Above anything.
“I will be gone within time. You can ruin me while it lasts
” you blurt out, panting for air.
“I’ll ruin you. But I don’t want to rip you apart. That’s pointless
” he admits in your lips, blood near your chin that he wipes out. “You’re the most fun I’ve had in years. My little toy
”
“Alright, I’ll be your toy” he nods, kissing you again. “Know that my lips are sealed when it comes to you”
“And you won’t have to worry about anything again
” you moan on his lips when he pulls your hair and finally makes you lay on your once new carpet, now displaying some splotches of blood.
“I don’t need your money”
“Don’t you want to make your mother proud and relieved from student debts? From rent?” You can’t think straight. “It’s not correct
”
“None of this is, y/n. Now shut your mouth and spread your legs, toy”
It’s wrong, immoral, a complete madness. You know everything will change once the night dies and the morning comes. But as much as you tried to communicate to him that you weren’t scared, you knew it was over, you’ve gotten too deep into his shit.
“Farewell to my purity” you whisper in his ear and it’s enough to make his eyes turn darker, full of lust.
Everything that consoles purity would be gone from you. And the fact that you were ready scared you. But once his hands started meeting places across your body, you welcomed the sin.
As well as your mind seized thinking. Not caring about the consequences.
_______________________________________________
If you ask for more I will provide
QuiĂ©n me manda a escribir estas mamadas? I’m just ovulating.
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barrenclan · 22 hours ago
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"Moth-Soft Murmurings"
Many people have asked me if I consider Egrettail and Blacknose to be a couple (along with a polycule with Mallowstar). The answer I give is frustratingly vague - I do, kind of, but I also am still very strong in Egrettail being aromantic and asexual. An important point to me in her relationship with Blacknose is finding the relationship that works for you, and being able to use the labels that fit you best while still engaging in the love that you want. It's something between romantic and platonic for Egrettail, and that is perfectly okay.
If I'd had more time, I would have liked to go a little more into Blacknose's progressing dementia, but I'm okay with how I ended up portraying it. The extremely sad thing about degenerative diseases like dementia is that while you can try and mitigate them, they are ultimately uncurable. Blacknose had early-onset dementia, so in terms of this comic, she likely spent the rest of her life in the more severe stages of it. However, the strong support of those around a person with dementia will always be a crucial part of helping them live their best life. And Blacknose was lucky enough to have just that.
The title is taken from Harlan Ellison's story "I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream": “He smiled softly at the pit that dropped into the center of my brain and the faint, moth-soft murmurings of all the things far down there that gibbered without meaning, without pause.”
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jobean12-blog · 3 days ago
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Birds of a Feather
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader (friends to lovers)
Word Count: 2.5K
Summary: You have to attend a close relative's wedding and there's no one better to bring than your best friend, Bucky.
Author's Note: Seeing so much of happy Seb lately-and looking so good-made me want to write something sexy and fluffy so here we are. Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❀❀❀Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thanks Daisy!đŸ„°
Warnings: soft and sweet, tense and flirty, Bucky is the best in every way!
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‘Come on up. Room 322.’
His thumbs hang limply over the phone screen, his brain going blank.
When he sent the text ten seconds earlier to let you know he’s arrived he figured you would meet him down in the lobby or at the hall.
Meeting you in the hotel room is a problem he anticipated when he gave himself a pep talk before leaving.
“She’s your best friend. Don’t do anything stupid
like go to the hotel room.”
His fingers finally start to move over the letters. ‘I can meet you down here
’
But maybe you need help with something?
He deletes the text, now typing, ‘is there anyone with you?,’ but that just sounds weird and possessive.
‘I can see you typing,’ you text. ‘Just come up. I need help.’
With a laugh, he deletes everything again and types simply, ‘be right there doll.’
His long legs carry him quickly to the elevator and when he presses the button for the third floor he takes a deep breath, his pulse climbing it’s way up his throat.
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The door to your room is propped open with the dead bolt, but he knocks anyway.
“Come in Buck!”
Pushing it open just enough to peek his head in, he calls out, “I could be anyone, and you just invite me in without checking!”
“You just texted me you were coming up,” you sing from the bathroom, quickly continuing before he can say more, “and most of the people on his floor are friends or relatives here for the wedding.”
“Well, I’m glad to know you take your safety as seriously as I do,” he shouts back.
Your voice gets louder as you walk into the bedroom. “With you around I never have to worr
”
You stop for a breath when you see him, but your next words are lost to the blank void of his brain as he takes in your dress and how you look in it. To put it simply- stunning.
“Bucky?”
He startles, having no idea how long he’d been silent.
“Yeah doll
that’s
I’m here.”
When he finally drags his eyes to your face, you’re fighting a smile. “I asked if you could help me?”
“Oh, right. Sure. With what exactly?”
He cringes but steps closer.
“My dress?”
You turn around to show him the fabric at the back that hangs open, a tiny zipper dangling down at your lower back.
Trying to suppress a groan, but not being entirely successful he swallows hard. “That zipper looks very tiny.”
“It is,” you agree. “I realize I should have asked someone with smaller hands to help me out, but everyone is running around with their own nonsense so here we are.”
He approaches with a casual, “sure, of course doll.”
But then he does something without fully realizing it until the shiver runs along your back: he drags a knuckle down the curve of your spine.
You turn and look at him over your shoulder.
He just blinks and looks down to grab the zipper, mumbling about how small it is.
It’s quiet as he carefully pulls the zipper up and when he reaches the top he lets it fall and gently runs a finger along the top of the dress as he moves around to look at you.
“All set,” he whispers.
You smile and clear your throat before giving him an appreciative once over.
“You look hot.”
“Thanks doll. You
” and he struggles when his voice comes out a bit strangled, “you look breathtaking.”
You reach up and touch his bow tie, pulling at the neatly tied ends as you tell him, “I was hoping you’d arrive a flustered mess over how to tie this so I could do it for you.”
With a grin, he reaches up and tugs the end, untying it in a smooth pull.
“Figure you should do something in return after I battled that zipper,” he teases.
Still smiling, you take a hold of the tie, tugging it to align the ends evenly around his neck. “I didn’t get the impression it was such a hardship.”
His answering smirk is so telling you have to stifle a laugh.
“Are you feeling ready for this? I know these big events aren’t your favorite.”
“I’ll manage just fine doll, thanks. Besides, I’ve got the most beautiful date in the whole place.”
With your focus still on his bow tie he takes the opportunity to openly stare. When you smile at his sweet words he’s mesmerized by the way your soft lips part and his eyes stay glued to your mouth.
You look up to meet his gaze and he quickly lifts his eyes, a light pink sweeping across his cheeks.
You blink away and he looks down at your hands, noting the very little progress you’ve made.
“Do you have any idea what you’re doing?”
“Well
yes. I’m sure I can
”
“You’ve never done this before, have you?”
“You might be right!,” you quip, “but I’m no quitter.”
He’d be happy to stand there all night.
You finally step back, surveying your work, and frown. “I’m going to be honest, not sure I made it look as good as you did.”
He looks down and undoes the mess and you glower as he handily fixies it.
“Wow, no need to gloat you butthead.”
He lets out a full-bodied laugh, eyes crinkled, and nose scrunched, and you enjoy the sight before he explains, “I’ve done it a million times. I’m always the one in the tux when we go undercover.”
“That’s because you’re the one that looks the best.”
“Thanks doll,” he answers quietly.
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“There are so many people here,” you whisper as you lead him through the crowd in the hall.
He let’s out a low whistle, nodding in agreement and aking in the dĂ©cor.
You greet people as you walk, introducing Bucky to those that don’t already know him. Their eyes follow you, curiosity piqued in their expression as they wonder who he is to you.
You wonder the same. Your favorite person in the world. Your best friend
and so much more?
You take his elbow and guide him forward toward the outside set up where the ceremony will take place. On the way you find your grandmother and introduce him.
Since he can’t take his eyes off you he notices the subtle shift in your demeanor, the softening of your face and the adoration in your eyes.
He expects a gentle handshake but instead gets pulled in for a hug.
“Oh darling, isn’t he a sight,” you grandma says, patting Bucky’s cheek. “And you,” she says, turning her eyes your way. “Gorgeous.”
“Thanks grandma,” you beam.
A woman whizzes by, catching your eye and pointing to her watch.
“Looks like it’s time,” you announce.
Bucky holds out one arm for your grandma and the other for you.
“And a gentleman too,” your grandma gushes as she loops her arm through his. “Definitely a keeper.”
“You can keep grandma company,” you say as you approach the chairs.
“Of course, doll,” he says and leans in to kiss your cheek before helping your grandma into her seat.
“I’ll see you after the ceremony.” You gather your dress and turn to head back inside to meet the wedding party. “Miss me,” you call over your shoulder with a playful smile.
He stares as you walk away, quietly admitting, “I already do.”
Slight nerves take over when you hear the music start but the moment you walk out into the crowd your eyes zero in on Bucky. And what do you know? He’s looking right back at you
and he doesn’t take his eyes off you the whole ceremony.
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After the ceremony it takes forever to work your way through the crowd to him, and in between catching up with friends and family or directing someone somewhere, you catch glimpses of him smiling and laughing with your grandma and happily keeping her company.
When you finally do reach him, your grandma has been safely escorted to her seat and now a woman hangs off his arm- Jessica. You know her, an old family friend, and you like her well enough, but you step up behind them right as she asks Bucky if she can steal him for the first dance, and your stomach drops.
You jerk to a stop. He hasn’t seen you. He should accept. You’ll hate it, but you’re not in any position to protest.
But then Bucky says only a gentle, “sorry, no can do. Tonight, I’ve only got one dance partner.”
Your heart nearly leaps out of your chest, and you step closer, swallowing down the emotion.
“Hey you two!”
Bucky turns, extracting his arm from Jessica and setting a warm palm at your lower back.
“And here she is. My favorite dancing partner.”
Jessica leans around from his other side and says hello.
“Thanks for coming,” you tell her.
“Oh my god, of course. I wouldn’t miss it. And I was just meeting your friend, James, here.”
She emphasizes the word friend and at her usage of his real name you have to hold back a giggle.
“Isn’t he wonderful,” you hum, sliding your hand up his bicep. “He’s been keeping my grandmother company this whole time.”
She swoons and smiles at Bucky before turning back to you.
“He is. I just wasn’t expecting you to have a date. You’re usually always flying solo at these family events.”
You feel the smile slipping from your face and an uncomfortable laugh escapes.
The simple answer never comes to you, and you feel caught like a deer in the headlights.
“Actually, that’s only because I was away for work,” Bucky steps in smoothly. “I hate to miss any chance to be her date, but my schedule can be pretty demanding sometimes.”
“Oh, you’re so sweet,” Jessica says. “Work is important of course.”
“Yeah,” he answers, “but not as important as her. So, from now I won’t be missing another event.”
Jessica’s face does a thing. It’s a barely restrained, ‘oh okay, I see.’
Bucky’s smile remains but it doesn’t look entirely natural anymore but when he looks at you, every emotion on his face is genuine.
“Ready to find our seats doll face,” he asks you.
“Sure,” you reply.
“Well, it was nice to meet you Jennifer. Enjoy the party.”
With a firm hand, he leads you away. You allow yourself to be guided up the grassy path and indoors to where a band plays. Bucky grabs you two flutes of champagne off a passing tray and hands you one.
“That was swoony,” you tell him then take a sip.
“All I did was grab it from a tray doll. Time to raise your bar a bit.”
Laughing, you smack his beefy shoulder with your free hand. “Not that! The way you gently let Jennifer have it back there.”
He takes a sip, eyes on you. “She deserved worse, but I didn’t want to start trouble.”
With your brow raised you match his mischievous grin then you take his glass and set it down on one of the small tables, leading him to the dance floor.
He looks confused at first but when your hands slide up his chest and around his neck he circles his arms around your waist.
He relaxes against you, hands warm and strong on your lower back and you rest your cheek to his shoulder.
“You’re always so comfy.”
“Thank you.”
“And you always look out for me.”
He presses a kiss to your temple.
“Of course, doll.”
“You’re my favorite person in the Universe.”
He doesn’t respond at first, not for five or ten or thirty seconds. You keep waiting for the feeling of rejection in his silence but instead it feels like an agreement and finally his words confirm it.
“Mine too, doll.”
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Your quiet slow dance is the last moment alone you have for the next few hours because what follows is a whirlwind of a reception.
And the whole time he can’t take his eyes off you.
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“Think I’m ready to get out of here,” you say as you slump against his side.
He carefully holds you up as he stands and reaches to take your hand.
“Come on doll face. I’ll take you home.”
When you reach your apartment door your feet are aching, and your legs are tired. You retrieve your key from the hidden pocket in your small purse and slide it into the doorknob.
“I’m going to need you to unzip me,” you say, gesturing casually to your dress.
His silence makes you slowly turn around to face him and when you meet his eyes they’re heavy with heat and desire.
“Bucky?”
“Turn back around,” he says gruffly.
You do as your told and feel his exhaled puff of air against your bare shoulder before he takes your wrists in this hands and places your palms flat against the door. His metal fingers slide down one arm then trace the curve of your shoulder, while his other toys with the small zipper.
He starts to pull it down, so slowly, you feel every brush of his skin against yours and it sends a tremble across your body. For every new inch of your skin that he exposes his breath quickens. You can feel the heat of him so close and your fingers press into the hard wood of the door.
Once the fabric hangs loosely at the sides he stops and slips his hands inside to your waist and turns you back to face him.
“You’re so soft,” he murmurs. “I
”
You drag your fingers along his temple and down his jaw. Your finger falls to his bottom lip, tracing it’s outline.
You can see it in his eyes, the understanding that everything between you is easy and you don’t have to try. It’s too good.
Your gaze drops to his lips again and your mouth goes soft. “Kiss me Bucky.”
The words are just barely out of your mouth and he’s already leaning in, lips on yours, warm and urgent, his hands rising to cup your face. Your instincts send tight, possessive fists to the lapels of his jacket and you melt completely into the domination and tenderness in his touch.
With a quiet groan he tilts his head, deepening the contact into a decadent slide, sending a hungry hand down your body once again and grabbing your ass to press all your softness against the hard planes of his body.
He catches your bottom lip between his teeth, drags slowly away, and you chase the contact, but he stops you, pressing his thumb over your lips.
He stares for what feels like forever, then kisses you again, lingering before he murmurs, “you’re so beautiful,” into the sensitive skin below your ear, and then repeats it quietly into your neck.
“Are you going to stay the night?” you ask breathless.
“If you’ll have m
”
“Yes. Yes Bucky.”
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pedgito · 2 days ago
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𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄 | Joel Miller x reader
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↝ masterlist | requests? | ao3 | update blog | fic rec | ko-fi
summary | Joel hates change, but you introduced the idea that letting someone else take charge isn't always bad.
author's note | horrible summary but just know that man is dow horrifically bad. i don't think i need to explain what inspired this. i recommend a mix of father figure by george michael and i'm on fire by bruce springsteen on a constant repeat while reading this, for the vibes <3 thank you @chaotic-mystery for beta'ing and constantly making me laugh
content warning | 18+ MDNI, sub!joel, no outbreak, power dynamics (he's your boss), age gap (shocker), lots of open communication, vague plot, oral (m & f receiving), unprotected piv, creampies, cum eating, restraints, joel eating the puss with no hands, use of a cockring, joel's a real good boy, open-ended
word count — 7k
“You ever thought about lettin’ someone else take control?”
Tommy’s staring over the dirtied tupperware in his hands, the heel of his boot squeaking against Joel’s cluttered desk, who’s staring down at the mess of paperwork before his eyes flick up briefly at his brother, glaring.
“And run this place into the ground?”
“Joel, look at this place,” Tommy gestures lazily toward the space.
It is a mess—paperwork misorted, information scribbled on a calendar long forgotten underneath the pile, sticky notes scattered throughout, and Joel’s brain running a million thoughts per second on top of the physical work he’s providing throughout the company.
He’d taken on the position thinking it would be a good thing, a breather, after years of working only physical labor—extra money, more security for his daughters as they entered college, always feeling the support of him even miles away. But, it had slowly begun to overtake his life, his weekends that used to be spent watching football games and drinking in his backyard, were forced into four walls.
He can’t even remember that last time he’s had the chance to have a night out.
Gone on a date.
Hell, even sex was nonexistent.
“Hiring someone means training and you and I both know we don’t have the time—”
“That’s why you hire someone with experience—and vet ‘em. You know what, I’ll ask Maria if she can help out with finding someone. Lord knows you’ll never make a decision.”
“I am your boss, remember?” Joel threatens lightly, tossing a dry, unusable pen on his desk, mirroring his brother as he raises a foot on his desk and leans back, arms crossed over his chest, “Maybe work would be less of a pain in the ass if I jus’ fired ‘ya.”
“Yeah, but then who’s gonna deal with all your cryin’?”
Joel tosses a balled up napkin at Tommy’s head, one that he dodges with ease as it flies over his head, barely missing the trashcan on the other side of the room as it slumps to the floor.
“Just try it out—ain’t nothing bad about change, brother.”
For Joel, it meant relinquishing the control he wasn’t ready to offer up.
–
You fidget nervously in the chair in the front office, heart hammering in your chest.
First impressions were always nerve-wracking, but with Joel, and the preface you were given by both Maria and Tommy, who had led you through the hiring process, made it seem like he was nearly unbearable at times.
The door to his office creaks open right on time, not a second after.
He’s dressed up, slacks and a tight button-up paired with loosely slicked back hair, peppered with grays that dissolved into his trimmed facial hair, a permanent scowl on his face as he greets you, head down and following you as you slipped by his large, stocky frame.
As the door clicks closed, he begins with audible uncertainty, “I’m not sure what all my brother and his wife told you, but—”
You interrupt firmly, attempting to assert your unique approach at dominance when men like him, slinging your bag into one of the two chairs positioned in front of his desk.
“So—I manage the day to day. I can handle calls, within reason, unless you like doing that yourself,” Truthfully, it wasn’t his favorite thing although it was the most important—selling the company, getting the customers, Joel could be a smooth talker when he wanted, “for paperwork, I’m scarily organized and I’ll take care of all,” You look around at the tornado of receipts and contracts scattered around, “this.”
“What about lunch?” Joel inquires jokingly.
“And breakfast,” You answer nonchalantly, “Listen, I’m here to help you.”
“I’m used to handling all of this alone, so forgive me if I’m—”
“Territorial,” You finish for him, eyebrows raising inquisitively as Joel cracks a faint smirk.
You cross one foot over the other and clasp your hands together, connecting with his gaze as he stands a few feet away, hands shoved into his pockets, and he opens his mouth like he wants to argue or protest against the word, but you smile knowingly.
“I’m used to it,” You assure him, “Mr. Miller—Joel, I’m not
sure what you prefer. The goal is balance, your brother mentioned something about you sleeping here sometimes.”
“Just Joel is fine,”Joel tells you, glancing sheepishly at the messy couch, a blanket and pillow balled up on one cushion.
“That’s not happening anymore,” You assure him, “and don’t think you’re overwhelming me. I need a list of everything you want me to cover—I’m your assistant, so if helping means grabbing you breakfast every morning, I’ll do it.”
It takes an hour of conversation and convincing before you finally manage to lead Joel toward his desk, inadvertently organizing some of the paperwork as he wrote down a list that grew and grew as you talked, giggling to yourself as he would occasionally scribble out a word and then rewrite it down.
You’ve dealt with plenty of men like him, an unwillingness to hand the leash over, gripped tightly around his hand—Joel just needed a shove and some reassurance.
And within a few weeks, after you’ve managed to introduce an entirely new filing system to keep things organized, color-coded his calendar, and started taking calls while he would make his rounds to check on the employees posted at different locations around the city, he realizes that he can breathe a little easier.
It’s also a mighty big plus that he doesn’t have to spend twenty minutes in the pick-up line for a black coffee and bagel or concern about lunch before deciding to skip it entirely.
You spend most of your time with him, learning subtle nuances and quirks that help you decipher his steely expression and non-existent personality. Tommy, who was outwardly joyful and shamelessly extroverted, was the complete opposite of Joel, who was reserved in all aspects of his life.
“Forgot how greasy these damn things are,” Joel gripes lightheartedly as he pulls the paper away from the double cheeseburger, sipping at his soda as you tap away quietly on his computer, watching him briefly from the opposite side of the desk as you took up residence in his chair for the moment, “what’re you doin’ again exactly?”
You silently pass him a napkin which he grabs wordlessly.
“I’m scheduling a week off for you and clearing your schedule so you won’t have to worry about anything,” You tell him, the line returning between his brow as he chews.
“I didn’t approve that,” He says around a mouthful, wiping at the corner of his mouth with the crumpled napkin, “besides I ain’t got the time—”
“The last time you took off was,” You pause for an extended amount of time, searching back through the calendar before you spot it, “two years ago for
”
“Graduation,” He answers quietly, “for Sarah and Ellie.”
His daughters, who he always spoke of fondly, pictures scattered around his office.
You were a few years older, wondering if the reason he was so reluctant to your help was your age, wondering if you truly had the experience to handle the workload.
“Exactly,” You answer sharply, “And your birthday falls within that week, so you’re not going to argue with me.”
“Yes, ma’am.” 
You grin triumphantly, snatching a fry from his to-go tray.
–
By September, Joel has fully settled into having you around. It’s only been a few months and he’s already able to spend more weekends at home and occasionally get back to more physical labor when his body agrees with it, unfortunately the company was heading toward a rush, a quickly moving train with no end in sight.
It was the third late night in a week after Joel had returned from his much needed vacation and you’re working quietly at writing down a plethora of dollar amounts to work out on the white board beside his desk before he huffs, leaning back in his chair as he curls his fingers behind his head and grimaces at the stress, forehead shining with a sheen of sweat.
Oh, yeah—and the AC was broken.
They were scheduled to fix it at the end of the week, but for now, it was thin dresses and loose fitting clothing and Joel, who was sticking to jeans and a casual, worn-out shirt. Your hair was tossed over one shoulder as your head tilted, arm extended up as the marker squeaked against the board, unknowing of his eyes that dragged along the expanse of your body.
He’s never shown any interest, not really. Almost always respectful, sometimes too much.
He’s asked about your life, your interests, whether you were thinking of marriage or not—it all felt wholly casual. You knew he had never been married, that he’s raised both of his daughters alone aside from the help of his brother Tommy, and that he rarely went on dates.
You tried helping him once, even scheduling his work day around the date to accommodate and allow him the opportunity, but you were ultimately greeted with his sour expression an hour after lunch.
“She kept tellin’ me how much I reminded her of her ex-husband,” Joel had told you, your hand covering your mouth in both shock and amusement, watching as he slumped into the chair and loosened the cuffs on his shirt. You weren’t sure how anyone could pass up on that.
Now, you can sense his discomfort. Like an aura. 
Lately, you’ve felt like an extension of him. He sensed it too, with you seeming to say things he’s thinking, in your own words, always knowing exactly what he needs, whether it was just a moment to himself or a day of you handling other work while he hid away in his office to handle the overload of calls.
You’re not sure why you stop writing, but you do. The pull guides you to him, moving silently, watching as he leaned forward on his desk, head slung down as he rolled his neck and quietly, your hands curl around his shoulders to squeeze, digging deep into the knotted muscles.
He’s quiet for a moment, both savoring the feeling and processing the situation.
First, he speaks your name, like a warning.
“You’re stressed, let me help,” You comfort him, watching as his shoulders relax with the effort of your hands, now completely slouched against his desk as your hand drags around his shoulder blade and back up, thumbs pressing into the base of his neck as he groans quietly, “does it hurt?”
Joel shakes his head, allowing the press to continue before he slowly pushes up, reaching blindly for your hand before you swat it away, “It’s just a massage, Joel. Relax.”
That wasn’t the issue.
He won’t admit it either, his face blushing as he leans his head back, feeling the delicious pinch of skin as you work out the difficult and stress-filled knots, eyes closed as his lips part.
You smirk slightly, watching the mess of his soft brown curls caress your breasts and he situates himself in his chair, slowly curling your fingers over his shoulder as his bottom lip quakes, shivers.
He whimpers.
He hears it, you hear it.
Joel’s eyes peel open in apology but you shush him, the cold touch of your fingers dragging along his neck, in perfect position to take hold and you’re almost positive Joel wouldn’t try to stop you.
“Don’t—don’t say it,” You nod to reassure him, dragging your other hand over his clammy skin, pushing his hair away from his face as you tug at the strands gently.
Joel nods obediently, swallowing as his hand glides over his crotch, rubbing through the denim of his jeans, cock swelling slowly underneath as he presses the heel of his palm against it for a sliver of relief. 
You both ignore how quickly the lines have blurred, glaringly aware of the unlocked door to Joel’s office as the massage transforms into something much more nefarious, your fingers slipping underneath the fabric of his shirt and against his skin, through the coarse hair on his chest, not a single reaction as his right hand curls around the back of his chair to twist around your thigh, pulling your knee up on the armrest.
With the slight adjustment, you notice his hand squeezing tight at his jeans, desperately trying to avoid his obvious want, attempting to stifle the desire and not acknowledge it.
“It’s been a while, huh?” You ask softly, too scared to startle him.
Joel nods, blinking slowly as his eyes fall on your lips and the way they curl slightly over your teeth and into a thin line at his response.
“Since someone touched you like this?” You inquire further, feeling his fingers squeeze at your thigh as your hands work like magic over his skin, trailing down his chest and twisting into his hair, his eyes fluttering closed at the interaction.
“At all,” He admits, “s’been so long—m’sorry, sweetheart.”
“Don’t apologize,” You tell him, sensing the regret as it invades his thoughts, quickly quelling the feeling, “I think—I think I can help you.”
Joel sighs, breathing out through his nose, “I’m your boss.”
Obviously, you think.
“On paper, maybe—but you’ve had no problem listening to me,” You tease, the slightest hint of shame on his face at your words—he’s guilty, he knows it—”in fact, I don’t think you realized how much you liked it, until now.”
The voice trailing along the hallway breaks you both out of your trance, slowly pulling your touch away as your leg falls, Joel’s fingers yearning for a final touch as they dig into your skin.
“Easy,” He cautions, looking down at his desk as he pulls at his jeans, adjusting the obvious discomfort of his stiff cock as it waned, “not—not here.”
“Gimme your phone,” You urge, holding your hand out expectantly.
He hands it over with an air of skepticism, your finger tapping against the screen quietly before you pass it back to him, the device dwarfed in his large palm.
“If you’re not busy tonight,” You say quietly, increasingly careful as you hear Tommy’s voice carry throughout the office, “I put my address into your phone, it's in your favorites. Should be easy to find.”
An invitation. 
Like dangling a treat in front of him, waiting to see if he’d take the bait.
-
He’s starving, fortunately.
He sits through dinner with Tommy and Maria, a regular occasion as Joel is often horrible at taking care of himself, surviving on very little sleep and a couple meals a day, often supplied by you.
He should take better care of himself. He knows that.
Regardless, he’s jittery as he pulls up to the apartment complex his phone led him to, parking in the garage attached as he sends you a single text around ten o’clock that night.
Your phone dings on your kitchen counter, finishing up pouring out your glass of wine as you pull it toward you with a single drag of your finger.
Joel: Here. Apartment number?
You chuckle at his straightforward nature that translates loudly through the tiny letters on your screen, quietly tapping out a response before you push your phone aside.
As you’re rounding the counter to head toward your couch, the deep knocks follow, wondering if he’d already been perusing and got lucky he was near.
You turn the knob and pull the door open as you press the glass to your lips, taking in the sight of a man who looks and feels entirely out of place. 
His eyes follow your state of undress, assuming you were ready to climb into bed with the silk shorts that clung to your hips and the scantily cropped top to match, barely covering your breasts.
He’s changed since work, only trading the denim for a much softer material to cover his legs, a fresh shirt, his hair mused like he’s been running his fingers through it with worry and unsurety. 
“How was your night?” You ask casually, moving to allow him the room to step inside your apartment, closing the door behind you as you head toward the fridge, silently grabbing for a beer—his favorite just happened to be your own, so it worked out perfectly.
“Fine,” He grumbles, watching as you hand him a now opened beer and push by him, but not before your fingers drift against his own, pulling him alongside until you reach the couch.
His fingers curl around yours without a second thought.
“You started talkin’ about football and Tommy went on one of his rants again, didn’t he?”
He’s used to it by now, how well you can assess him.
“S’almost like you were there,” He chuckles, tipping the beer to his lips and taking a long chug, “did I bother you? I know it’s late.”
You shake your head, allowing him to finish up a decent amount of his beer and your glass of wine before you’re plucking the glass from his hands and tucking it away on the table.
“Have you done this before?“ Joel asks softly, a deep gravelly timbre to his voice as your ass angles up, leaning off the couch to dispose of the drinks before you’re climbing over his lap, quietly raising your hands to cradling his face.
He doesn’t look at you for too long, not allowing the weight of the situation to settle quite yet, selfishly roving the expanse of exposed skin, feeling your hands grip his own to guide them to your hips.
“Does it matter?” You ask, dragging your thumb along his beard, rubbing at the bare patch of skin on his cheek, “Would it make you feel better if I said yes?”
“No.”
A small sliver of tongue peeks through your teeth as you bite down, grinning openly at him and his sheepish gaze.
“You’re my first—is that what you wanna hear?”
You can feel the bluntness of his nails dig into your skin at your words—oh, he that is exactly what he wanted.
“I’m just—M’not sure what I’m supposed to do here, sweetheart.”Joel responds instead, licking his lips before they pull together in a tight line.
“Would whiskey help? I got whiskey,” You respond cheekily, “I’ll get you some. Stay put.”
Joel chuckles nervously, “Yes, ma’am.”
You climb off his lap and disappear into your kitchen, reaching into the cabinet for a glass before crouching down to retrieve the liquor hidden away, hearing the soft and subtle rustling as Joel adjusts more comfortably on the couch, his shoes now removed and tossed haphazardly toward the coffee table. 
“If you—if you haven’t done this before,” Joel pauses as you return, making immediately room for you on his lap as you press the glass into his waiting hand, “why’d you offer?”
“Men pay me to boss them around, plenty of men like you,” It was a loose description, but it was the one strong suit you’ve prided yourself in, corralling stubborn men, “I like it and I’m good at it.”
“Clearly.” Joel comments under his breath, a small scoff of astonishment slipping past your lips as you force the glass to his own lips in a silent command.
“I don’t make it a habit to have sex with them, f’that is what you’re really worried about. They’re all married, miserable, but married. And I don’t like the mess of getting involved. Any time I’ve moved on it’s been because of that.”
Joel continues to drink by your aid, downing the rest of it as you continue to speak.
“You’re not married, you’re not complicated. You’ve been respectful. This isn’t you approaching me—I made that move, I just gave you an offer. One, which, you can still bail on and I won’t be upset. I won’t quit, either.”
As the liquor takes hold, Joel seems to relax, the tension in his body dissipating as you slowly trace the lines of his face and body with your fingers, explorative within reason.
“I guess we should set some ground rules,” Joel grunts at the mention, slightly more handsy as his fingers meet at your back, dipping a centimeter below the waistband, “If we do this—I’m in charge, completely. That’s the only way this works, or helps you. And it should be a given, but I’m clean and on birth control. But, it that reassures you—I’d rather you hear it.”
“Jesus Christ,” Joel groans, feeling the immediate loss of his touch as he rubs his hands over his face before stretching them out over the back of the couch.
“I’m just
covering the bases, I’d rather not have the question come across when you’re an inch away from putting your dick inside me, you know?”
“Coverin’ your bases?” Joel echoes, slightly amused.
You grin, climbing off of him slowly as you reach for your phone, fumbling through your playlist before you find a slow, sensual tune to fill the quiet air.
Hey, little girl, is your daddy home?
Did he go away and leave you all alone?
I got a bad desire
Oh, oh, oh, I'm on fire
“Do you dance?” You ask curiously, wandering toward your kitchen for the open wine bottle, half-empty and begging to be consumed.
“Not much—not
not anymore,” Joel doesn’t know he words it so cryptically; he danced, just not well. 
“Tommy told me how, at least, before the girls, how often you two would go line dancing,” Joel’s fingers curl around your hand as it extends, bring the wine bottle to your lips with the other, “now that I have to witness.”
“You and Tommy sure do talk a lot,” Joel notes, looking down at you as your fingers drag along the hair at his nape, “anything else he told you?”
You shake your head nonchalantly, bottom lip jutting out slightly as you sway your hips in time with the lyrics, Joel’s hand covering the full expanse of your own as it wraps around, constantly mesmerized by the sheer size.
The goal was to shake his nerves out, but he seemed to stiffen with your progressive movement as you twirled yourself around, one long gulp of wine before you set the bottle aside and relent, dragging your finger up the fabric of his shirt before you squeeze at the collar, pulling him closer.
“Either you dance with me,” You begin, “or I’m dancing for you—your choice.”
His non-answer is enough, forcing him back onto the couch before you’re shoving the table out of the way and turning up the volume to the rhythmic tune.
You’d convince him eventually, dying to see those skills come back to life, even if it was just a glimpse.
“Put your hands under your legs,” You instruct him casually, eyes tracking up as you watch his chest puff out with the motion, fitting his hands under his thighs without argument.
Huh, that was easy. 
Time was a teller, though, and you were curious how long it would last. 
—
He’s seen glimpses of it before, the soft hum under your breath as you sing the catchy tunes playing on the radio in his office, a subtle sway as you flip through a stack of paperwork or at his desk, the tiniest movement.
But here, now, he’s mesmerized.
He gets it, this is what you wanted.
Joel’s fists have balled up under his thighs, watching you turn away as you dance, the swaying movements pulling at the already short fabric as his eyes follow the way you bend, giving him a full glimpse of your ass.
You giggle softly at his lack of reaction, which wasn’t entirely true, watching his knees widen at the action, subconsciously making room for you despite your distance. 
Yearning. He was yearning for you.
You drop to your knees, crawling toward him slow under the low, ambient light of your living room—a faint glow of pinks and purples, transforming into greens and blues, filtering slowly through colors as your hands grip his knees, sliding up the inside of his thighs tantalizingly slow. 
“So
” Your finger trails around the drawstring of his pants, “at any point that this gets too much or you’re not feeling it, just say stop.”
“That ain’t somethin’ you gotta worry ‘bout.”
“Communication is a good thing, Joel,” You explain, “it’s important—to make sure we’re both benefiting from this. I’m not enjoying this unless you are, alright?”
Joel nods, a raised eyebrow offered in return.
“Yes,” His voice cracks slightly, clearing his throat, “uh—yes, ma’am.” 
“A simple yes would have worked, but I appreciate the manners,” You tease him, knowing he’s always been stuck in his ways, old fashioned and polite. It comes naturally.
Your fingers fold around his waistband and tug, his hips rising at the motion and you hear the breath he’s holding release as his cock springs free, leaking at the tip and begging to be attended to. You grinned, tongue peaking out to lick along the head and around, salty precum hitting your taste buds as you look up at Joel, his eyes falling shut as his hand wraps around your forearm in desperation.
You pull back instantly, gently moving his hand away.
He seems to realize his misstep, silently tuck his hand away under his thigh again as you nod, pulling his pants the rest of the way down and off before you’re licking him from base to tip, fingertips wrapping around his shaft and squeezing alongside the delicate suction of your mouth.
He groans, so deep and guttural you think he might come now, peeking your eyes open to see his head resting back, eyes closed. The sight was too much, having to force some reprieve on himself as you worked your mouth down his cock, head bobbing at a slow, tortuous pace until your throat can relax and take him fully, nearing around eight inches and thick, feeling the stretch of your cheeks alongside the ache in your jaw.
You pull away with watery eyes, a long string of spit connecting you to him, speaking, “If you feel like you’re about to come, say it, don’t lie to me.”
With that, your thumb rubs over the slit of his head, feeling his cock pulse in your hand, squeezing at the tip while his face contorts, lips parting as he breathes out shakily. 
“Oh, fuck—yes—yes fuckin, ma’am.”
He’d rip the stitching in your couch if he gripped it harder, losing his hold on reality as he watches your head move through bleary eyes, the buzz of alcohol tingling his brain as you gag against his cock, held in the back of your throat before he’s stammering out desperately, the familiar tug in his gut that proves just how long it’s been for him, ready to come after only a few minutes of your mouth on him.
He’s embarrassed, the words falling from his lips in a rush, “Stopstop—fuck, stop.”
You pull away quickly, the urgency in his voice startling you as your face contorts in concern.
“Fuck—not like, stop. Jus’ I was about to come. Sorry—sweetheart, I panicked.”
It calms your worry, nodding in response to his words.
“I’ve
actually I have an idea, if you’re okay with it that is.”
He’s suspicious of the glint in your eyes, rising on sore knees as he sat there naked from the waist down, your eyes dragging over his firm, muscled legs before they took in the sight of his cock again, standing proud as it rest against his stomach, the shirt slightly bunched at his chest.
You make the short trek to your room to retrieve the item you were looking for, coming back to Joel massaging his sore wrists, a subtle worry in his eyes that he’s done something wrong.
He eyes the bag in your hand suspiciously, brow raised. 
There were a few items, but the one most notable he reaches for initially, dangling it between two fingers as he asks, “You have that just layin’ around?”
It was a cockring, flexible material that he stretched his fingers before you politely snatched it away.
“What? I picked out a few things. Besides, I couldn’t get you anything for your birthday so consider this a late gift,” He sees right through the sickeningly sweet smile, pushing the bag into his hands as you straddle one thigh, the silk material of your shorts dragging along his bare skin.
“I dunno,” Joel’s hesitant, but not entirely close-off to the idea, “s’that even safe?”
“It is,” You assure him—Joel doesn’t really question it either, “You trust me, don’t you?”
He tries to stifle the small chuckle at your act, batting your lashes as you reach for his hand, settling it against the center of your chest underneath your shirt, the soft press of your breasts squeezing his hand and Joel has to resist the urge to explore further, rifling through the bag one-handed, pulling out a thick piece of cloth, a rich, plum stained fabric. 
“You’re in good hands,” You smile, leaning forward to brush your lips along the shell of his ear, “I promise.”
–
He does touch you now, though careful of his hands wandering too far, spreading you out on your bed sheet with hesitance, sensing that this wasn’t just a moment of uncertainty, but rather unfamiliarity.
“It’s been so long,” He admits, not lost on you, “I’ll try—jus’ might need some remindin’.”
Be vocal, he pleads without asking. Let me hear you.
Done and done.
His hands grip at the back of your thighs, pulling you near the edge of the bed before they’re pushing up, forcing your legs apart as he settles on his knees, stripped of his top and nude, a stark contrast to your clothed state as he pressed his face into the fabric of your shorts, his nose prodding at the seam of your pussy, teeth biting lightly into the fabric.
His eyes trail up, the bottom half of his face obscured as he pressed his mouth into the heat of your cunt through the silk, awaiting your command.
“Grab,” You sigh, his kisses trailing along your thigh and down, lips kisses at the sensitive skin of your ankle, “the bag—the bag,” You point vaguely, forcing him away gently with your opposite foot. 
You’d dropped it on the floor beside Joel in the mess of limbs, the bag hidden underneath his disposed shirt and as he thrusts the small paper bag into your hands you fish for the binding balled up at the bottom of the bag, tossing the rest of the bag aside as you sink to match Joel’s position, gently grabbing his wrists as you guide them behind his back.
“Just to make sure you keep your hands to yourself,” You inform him, face heating under his heavy gaze, looking up at him innocently as you knot the fabric blindly behind his back, tugging when you’re satisfied enough and rising to meet his face, nose brushing against his own at the close proximity, “Do you want a taste, Joel?”
“I’ll take whatever you give me, sweetheart.”
In this light, under the soft glow of streetlights that spilled over into your room, it was like you were seeing a different man, not at all the confident and defiant man you challenge on a day to day, but a man dedicated to you, an eagerness in his expression that you’ve never seen.
“Oh, honey—you’re gonna work for it.”
You crawl back on your hands, rising to perch on the edge of the bed with your legs spread, one foot perched against the mattress as Joel shuffled forward slowly, “Can’t taste you through those shorts, might help if you—”
“Get creative,” You urge, haphazardly pulling your top over your head and throwing it aside for incentive, breasts bouncing softly with the movement and spotting the way Joel swallows, hard.
It made him feel young, this desire that didn’t show itself often. He’s resigned himself to months, years of handling himself; jerking himself off with his hand to satisfy that urge, but never more. He rarely had time then, lucky if he could manage a full eight hours of sleep. 
He leans forward, his teeth digging into the fabric at your hip as he pulls, wrestling with the material as he drags it down your thigh—innovative, you think. You giggle softly at his steadfast gaze, a stubbornness in his scowl as he rips the fabric off. 
Joel doesn’t waste time, licking a long stripe through your already damp underwear, accumulated slick ruining the fabric as he greedily laps you up through the garment, but he hisses when your hand grips into his hair, pulling him back as his scowl grows deeper.
“All of it.” You demand.
You watch as his teeth gripped at the front of your underwear before he’s dragging them down, tossing them aside even more impatiently, like a dog with a chew toy, before he’s pressing his face into your cunt, leaning most of his weight into you as his strong, angular nose presses against your clit, his tongue dipping inside of you instantly, like he was trying to consume you.
A mix of a broken laugh and gasp leaves your mouth as he groans, a slight shake to his head as he attempted to force himself deeper, the movement shifting his nose of your clit in a way that has your entire body curling in on itself, his eyes closed, lost in the taste of you and the warm cradle of your thighs around his head, foot smoothing over his back as you pull him in.
He suckles at your clit as he shifts up, the wet expanse of his tongue sliding over the sensitive bud, responding with a soft noise as your fingers dig into his hair and tug, ““Fuck, you love it like this, don’t you?”
Joel responds with a noise, ignoring your question as his tongue swirls over your clit, repeating the motion repeatedly as your breath hitches, gasping loudly.
“I asked—asked you a question,” You interrupt, pulling him back defiantly, “I’d like an answer.”
“M’sorry, I do—I do,” Joel apologizes, mouth shining with your slick, his beard wet and his cheeks flushed, “jus’ taste so good, sweetheart. Wanna make you feel good—am I doin’ alright?”
“So good,” You tell him softly, your hand cradling his chin as you slide your thumb over his wet lip and through the dampness at his chin before you’re pushing your fingertip into his mouth, letting the pad of your thumb press against his tongue, closing his lips around you finger to suck, “You’re always so messy, you know that?”
Joel chuckles, pulling his mouth away as you slowly guide him back toward your cunt, pulsing around his tongue as it dips inside of you once more, like a tease before he returns the attention toward your clit, groaning as your thighs squeeze tightly around his head, feeling the creeping sensation of your orgasm as it coiled in your gut.
“A damn good meal if ‘ya ask me,” Joel comments, too entranced to chastise his comment as your orgasm spills over, the rush of fluids hitting his tongue as you cry out, his unrelenting tongue making your vision go white.
“That’s good, baby, keep doing that. Just like that,” You encourage weakly, legs shaking with overstimulation as he glares up at you through his half-lidded gaze, his nose smushed against your cunt.
Your fingers sift gently through his hair as you come down, feeling the weight of his head against your thigh as he speaks, “You’re shakin’ like a leaf, sweetheart—y’alright?”
“I am,” He can hear the elation in your voice as you rise slowly, “does it hurt?”
Joel pulls at the binding, loose enough that there's no straining or pinching, he shrugs noncommittally and answers, “If I say yes will you take ‘em off?”
You tilt your head at his subtle mischievous tone, “As long as you’re being truthful.”
“I wanna touch you, if ‘m bein’ honest,” Joel admits.
He’s such a smoothtalker, even now. 
“Fine—but, I’m not finished,” You warn him, “so don’t get any ideas.”
“Oh, yes ma’am.” He agrees wholeheartedly, feigning seriousness. 
It shouldn’t be this easy with him, but it was. 
–
“I’m tryin’ to help you out,” You tease him, fitting the ring around his cock, settled underneath his balls as he stifles the groan of your touch against his overly sensitive skin, having been so close to the edge and losing focus that he’s fallen soft, resting back on his palms as you rub your hand over his chest and down, fingers rolling along the underside of his sack before your fingertip trails along the seam and up, following the thick vein that led to the head of his cock, “Is it good when I touch you here?”
“S’good,” He answers shakily, watching your hand press flat against your tongue before you’re gripping his cock tight, jerking him firmly, his hand flying to your hip, trailing up blindly as you press your chin against the top of his head, feeling his hand tangle into your hair, cradling your face with a desperation, “I’m fuckin’ sufferin’ here, sweetheart.”
“Not yet,” You counter, leaving his now hardened cock to bounce freely against his stomach as you reach for two items sprawled on the bed, gripped in your fists as you straddle him, his cock sliding through your wet folds and nearly sending him over the edge, “which one?”
Choices, he thinks. He hated making a decision.
Sight or touch, he debates the two items.
“If you don’t pick I’m choosing both,” You warn him playfully.
“Not bein’ able to see you feels like a punishment,” Joel admits.
You hum thoughtfully, “You’re right—and what a good boy you’ve been, huh?”
“Real good, sweetheart,” He agrees desperately, feeling his cock pulse against your cunt, fighting the restraint it was taking him not to sink into you now and plow you into the bed underneath him, but that wasn’t the point of all of this.
So, the decision is made.
Joel settles against the headboard as you restrain his arms behind his back in a similar manner, his eyes following your movements carefully as you leave soft, light kisses along his skin before you straddle his hips, hovering over him for a brief moment before you’re wrapping your hand around his cock and sinking down onto him slowly, adjusting to the stretch as his eyes flutter shut, face pinched up.
‘It’s not too tight, is it?” You ask, moving your hips at a tortuous pace as your fingers curl around the back of his neck, his head shaking at your question, focusing so innately hard he can’t answer, as much as he tries.
“S’probably the only thing keepin’ me together,” Joel forces out, “all I could think about at dinner earlier was you—this, s’fucked up, ain’t it?”
Your eagerness wins over, bouncing on his cock at a quicker pace that has him panting into your skin, a pathetic whine ripping from his chest, “And I spent—spent all evening thinking about how you’d look when you came—and how stubborn you’d be—”
Joel chuckles pathetically, moaning weakly against your chest as you grip the headboard above him, the sharp slap of skin against skin as you ride his cock.
“Turns out you’re pretty receptive,” You continue, “‘s’good—I like it.”
Joel murmurs an acknowledgment as his neck strains back, slamming against the headboard as he forces his eyes open, panting heavily as he watches your body stretch above him, one hand sliding down to spread out against your thigh as you head falls back to mirror his own, moaning loudly as his cock pulses with need, your walls fluttering around him.
“So fuckin’ beautiful,” Joel speaks drunkenly, mesmerized, “M’never lettin’ you go.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” You assure him, watching him nod as his eyes squeeze shut, that familiar ache in his gut growing as his cock throbs with the need for release.
You lean forward, working your fingers through the knot of the restraints and speak softly against his ear, “Y’gonna listen? Yeah, like a real good boy?”
Joel nods fervently, sighing with the release of his hands as they immediately latch onto you, still and unmoving but like a relief for the both of you as his hands press hot against your skin.
“What should your reward be, huh?” You coo, “Should I let you come?”
“Sweetheart, please—”
You lean back slightly, riding him with fervor as you nod your head, cradling his lulling head between your hands, “Tell me how good you’ve been,” You encourage gently, his skin damp with sweat as you slide a hand down his chest, dangerously close to the point where you’re joined together, “let me hear it.”
“So good, sweetheart. Bein’ such a good boy for ‘ya,” Joel complies, his breath hitching as he feels the tight ring around his cock loosen, thrown to the side, slipping out and back in without skipping a beat, like you’d never left.
“Right there,” He warns, “fuck—baby, I dunno if I can—”
“It’s okay,” You whisper softly, hearing the pain in his voice and the way his arms wrap around you like a vice, “I’m gonna make you clean it up, anyways.”
Joel groans at that, nearly lifting off the bed as his hand steadies behind, pumping his hips into you jerkily as he comes inside of you and coats your walls, gasping sharply at the feeling of his blunt nails digging into your skin, riding him gently through the aftershocks before he falls lifeless against the bed, panting heavily.
You sigh with elation, though exhausted, slowly moving back as you lean on your elbows and gently poke at his thigh, his hand covering his softening cock as he grunts, grumbling some unintelligible. 
“You’re not finished,” Joel chuckles lowly, his hand wrapping around your ankle as he pulls himself up, eyes immediately locking on your swollen cunt, cum spilling out as your walls squeeze, your own fingers spreading through the mess before you’re dragging it toward your mouth, licking your fingers clean before reaching for his hair, mused from sex as you yank him closer and demand, “clean up your mess.”
“Gonna need you to schedule another week off for me,” Joel admits, dipping his tongue inside of you without hesitation, his hands squeezing around your thighs to pull you in, “and you.”
“Why’s that?”
Joel grins as you glance down, speaking confidently against your cunt, “Got a few messes I wanna make, that alright?”
You pause, a moment of hesitation, “I’ll consider it.”
Joel growls into you, nipping gently at your clit as you squeal loudly.
You relent quickly, swatting his head playfully.
After all, he was still your boss.
505 notes · View notes
cherrygirlfriend · 3 days ago
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pairing: reader x bsf!rafe
synopsis: reader gets depressed after sex, so rafe comforts her.
warnings: smut, angst and comfort, fluff MDNI! - wc: 700
author’s note: i wrote this last night when this site went down; it's a bit different and doesn't have much dialogue but i was feeling poetic. also, trying out yet another layout style ⟡ ʁ₊ .
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it always starts the same; the feeling in your stomach building up, the heat spreading through your veins, making your body feel like the sun is rising, slowly warming up every one of your limbs as your whimpers turn into quiet moans as you’re brought closer and closer to the edge, to bliss.
then, all of a sudden, rafe touches just the right spot at just the right pace, whispering just the perfect words into your ear before sucking your earlobe into his mouth as he continues thrusting into you, your nails digging into his back, and then the soft sunlight titillating across your body turns into a blazing fire.
the moment you come undone your back arches off the bed, into him like a moth to a flame, your sensitive, pebbled nipples pressing against his muscular chest as you let out raspy words that are supposed to be his name, but ultimately end up being incomprehensible mumbles, rafe letting out groans on top of you as you clenched around him, your tight walls basically calling for him to come.
you can feel the rush of dopamine released by your brain the moment your back hits the mattress, your entire body becoming tingly, and a small, pleased smile playing on your lips as you felt rafe pull out of you with a satisfied grunt before getting up and discarding the used condom into his trash can before coming back to bed with a satisfied grin on his lips, your head still slightly fuzzy from the pleasure he'd given you.
you stared up at the ceiling fan, watching as it spun around, feeling the cool air on your face, feeling it take care of the sheen of sweat that covered your skin, rafe pressing small kisses on your bare shoulder, causing shivers to run down your spine. you felt content.
but just like usual, you crashed.
you didn't know what caused it, but hot tears started stinging in your eyes once again, rafe pulling back to look down at you, his lips twitching into a slight frown as his hand cupped your cheek, his thumb moving to brush away a tear that was rolling down, disappearing into your hair.
"shhh, it's okay..." rafe mumbled against your skin, continuing to press more kisses on the soft skin on your shoulder. you knew it was irrational, that there was no reason for you to be crying, that there was no reason for there to be this hollow feeling in your chest, no reason for your head to be filled with doubts and melancholy; but your emotions didn't much care for logic, "i'm here."
rafe pulled you into his chest, holding you tightly against his warm body while his hand stroked your hair, pressing soft kisses on your hairline while tears continued escaping your eyes, your throat stinging with pain. "you're beautiful. you're alright." somehow, rafe had gotten used to you getting emotional after coming down from your orgasm, and he knew there was nothing he could do to get you out of that mindset, except just be there. and he always did that, he always grounded you. he was like your anchor. "you're amazing."
you held onto him as tightly as possible as he continued whispering sweet nothings into your ear, leaving gentle, loving kisses all over your face, wiping your tears away with just a touch of his lips.
and eventually, the hollowness inside of you slowly faded away and was replaced by him, and you looked up at rafe, into his ice-cold eyes that felt so warm whenever you gazed into them, and your lips finally curved up into a small smile, your heart steadying until your heartbeats were in sync.
"there's my girl." rafe says softly, quietly, as if he was being careful not to break the fragile serenity that had now taken over your features. and before he could pull your lips to meet his, you beat him to the punch, so full of him and his adoration, you felt like you'd die if you didn't return it right back to him.
and as your lips met, every thought, every tear, faded away.
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souljahwwitch · 2 days ago
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FUCKED UP! Â°â€§đŸ«§â‹†.àłƒàż”*:
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Â°â€§đŸ«§â‹†.àłƒàż”*: hc’s about thanos x best friend reader who’s just as energetic as him <3
(no squid game!)
(kind of fwb like in my every other best friend! reader fic 😔)
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Â°â€§đŸ«§â‹†.àłƒàż”*: choi su-bong (or thanos as he forces you to call him) have been best friends since diapers, both of your fathers being filthy rich, they were connected to the hip, and so you two are.
Â°â€§đŸ«§â‹†.àłƒàż”*: one out of many things you two have in common is the pure hatred towards your fathers, you two always found a way to fuck up some family dinners or country club parties—and no one ever suspected a thing.
Â°â€§đŸ«§â‹†.àłƒàż”*: no one suspected you, because how could y/n l/n, the oh so precious daughter of f/n l/n ever be so cruel? you were too pretty for that, too smart—no one actually knew you for who you are except thanos.
Â°â€§đŸ«§â‹†.àłƒàż”*: they suspected thanos, of course they did—but he didn’t really care, only thing that mattered is having fun with you—like taking hits from the bong right before your father and his father and some prissy guests wait for both of you to come down to some boring dinner.
you sat there—trying not to burst out laughing at random things, thanos was beside you, gripping your thigh to stop you—and himself from laughing
“ sweetheart, you’ve gotta stop looking like your face is about to explode.” thanos mumbled beside you—and that just made you wheeze, he couldn’t hold it anymore also—so you laughed it out while making an excuse you have to go to a very important business walk!! (you two don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.)
Â°â€§đŸ«§â‹†.àłƒàż”*: being his best friend means sneaking out at two am for whatever reason, you two were always in your pajamas too—even though you two are the same in personality—the style was a bit different.
“c’mon princess, jump i’ll catch you!” he whisper-yelled, between laughs because—why tf are you wearing a hello kitty pjs
“i can’t, asshole! what if you drop me-“ you hissed, sitting at your window, looking down at him.
“now don’t be dumb, i always catch you, angel, you know that.” he said cockily right before you sighed and jumped, he catches you, of course, but he doesn’t let you live it down
“see, dumbass! i told you!”
“fuck off >:(!!!!”
Â°â€§đŸ«§â‹†.àłƒàż”*: being his best friend means you can come to him for everything and he can come to you, your family were always on some business trips, so you two were often taking care of eachother.
and that’s how you find yourself in this position, pouring rain, walking from your mansion to his because you got a fever, and your dad was on a business trip with his dad—and he didn’t left you any over the counter medicine, yeah, he left you shit ton of money, but pharmacies don’t work at 4am.
you knocked on his door as if you were dying, you were shivering, you were soaked, and relief washed over you as you heard a voice call out “who the fuck in this time of night-“
when he opened the door and saw you there, sniffling and shivering, teary eyed—he knew you had a fever, fevers were hard on you, so he knew exactly how you looked.
“woah, woah—easy there, it’s alright sweetheart c’mere” he mumbled
“but-but you’ll get sick if you touch me-“
“what? you think some cold will knock my ass over like it does to you, stop being a brat and c’mere.”
Â°â€§đŸ«§â‹†.àłƒàż”*: being his best friend meant spending late nights in your girly room, laying on your bed as you two look at eachother—high or not, it always ended up like this—his hands on your waist, and you being stubborn first five minutes before you let him kiss you
“thereee she is..”
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rmview · 1 day ago
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saying they want to break up during a fight, SKZ.
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featuring — stray kids members x gn!reader ( masterlist )
summary — a reaction of what happens when the stray kids boys impulsively say they want to break up during a fight!
contents — angst, fighting, some tears, reconciliation.
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bang ☆ chan
fights with bang chan weren’t common, but when they happened, they hit hard. his naturally calm and rational demeanor made it rare for him to lose his temper, but tonight was different. the stress of balancing his responsibilities, combined with your ongoing disagreement, pushed him to the edge.
“you always think i’m not doing enough!” he shouted, his voice cracking under the weight of frustration. “i’m doing everything i can, and it’s still not enough for you!”
“that’s not what i said, chan,” you retorted, equally exasperated. “i just need you to make time for us — just once without your work taking over.”
his jaw tightened as he ran a hand through his hair, his usual composure unraveling. “maybe we’re not right for each other,” he said, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. “maybe we should just
 break up.”
the silence that followed was deafening. bangchan’s eyes widened, and his expression immediately softened as he realized what he’d just said. “wait — no. that’s not what i meant,” he stammered, his voice trembling.
you took a shaky breath, stepping back. “you said it, chan. if that’s how you feel
”
“no, please,” he interrupted, his voice pleading. he reached for your hand, but you pulled away. “i didn’t mean it. i swear, i didn’t mean it. i’m just
 i’m tired and overwhelmed, but that’s not an excuse. please, don’t leave.”
tears welled up in his eyes as he stepped closer, desperate to fix what he’d just shattered. “you’re the most important thing in my life,” he said, his voice breaking. “i’ll do better. i’ll make time — i promise. just
 don’t walk away.”
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felix ☆
felix hated confrontation. he was always the one to diffuse tension, his warm smiles and soothing words calming any storm. but tonight, the argument spiraled beyond his control.
“why do you always think the worst of me?” he asked, his usually soft voice laced with hurt. “i’m trying my best, but it’s like you don’t trust me.”
“it’s not about trust, felix,” you shot back, your voice rising. “it’s about feeling like i’m not a priority!”
his frustration bubbled over, and before he could think, he blurted out, “maybe we shouldn’t do this anymore. maybe we should just break up.”
the words hung in the air like a punch to the gut. felix’s freckles seemed to pale as the weight of what he’d said hit him. “no, wait,” he said quickly, his voice trembling. “i didn’t mean that. i didn’t mean that at all.”
you stood frozen, your heart aching. “how could you say that, felix?”
tears brimmed in his eyes as he stepped closer, his hands shaking. “i’m sorry,” he whispered. “i was angry, and i wasn’t thinking. you mean everything to me, and the thought of losing you —” his voice cracked. “please, don’t leave. i’ll do whatever it takes to make this right.”
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lee ☆ know
lee know was known for his sharp tongue, but he rarely let his emotions get the best of him. tonight was an exception.
“you never understand my side!” he snapped, his voice colder than usual. “you always make it about you.”
“that’s not fair, minho,” you replied, your voice quivering. “i just want us to communicate better.”
“maybe we shouldn’t communicate at all,” he shot back, the words cutting like a blade. “maybe we should just end this.”
the moment the words left his mouth, regret washed over him. his face fell, and his usually stoic demeanor cracked. “wait,” he said softly, his voice laced with panic. “that’s not what i meant.”
you stared at him, hurt evident in your eyes. “minho
”
“i was angry,” he admitted, his tone desperate. “i didn’t think before i spoke. i don’t want this to end. i don’t want to lose you.”
he reached out tentatively, his eyes searching yours. “i’m sorry,” he murmured. “i know i hurt you, but please give me a chance to fix this. i’ll prove to you that you mean more to me than my pride ever could.”
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hyun ☆ jin
hyunjin’s emotions always ran high, and tonight, they overwhelmed him completely.
“you don’t understand what it’s like to be me!” he yelled, tears streaming down his face. “i’m constantly trying to be perfect, and it’s never enough — not for you, not for anyone!”
“i never said you had to be perfect, hyunjin,” you replied, your voice trembling. “i just want you to let me in!”
“maybe it’s better if we’re not together,” he snapped, his voice breaking. “maybe i can’t give you what you need.”
the silence that followed was suffocating. hyunjin’s chest heaved as he realized what he’d just said. “no,” he whispered, shaking his head. “that’s not true. i didn’t mean that.”
tears welled in your eyes as you took a step back. “hyunjin, you can’t just say things like that.”
“i know,” he said, his voice cracking as he stepped closer. “i’m sorry. i was scared and angry, but i don’t want to lose you. you’re the one thing that makes me feel like i’m enough.”
hyunjin fell to his knees, his hands trembling as he clutched yours. “please don’t go,” he begged, tears streaming down his face. “i’ll do whatever it takes to fix this. just
 don’t leave me.”
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i.n ☆
jeongin wasn’t someone who fought often, but when he did, it was because something had truly gotten under his skin. tonight was one of those nights. the argument had started small, but it escalated quickly.
“you’re always treating me like i’m a kid,” jeongin snapped, his voice louder than usual. “like i don’t know what i’m doing or how i feel.”
“that’s not what i’m doing,” you countered, frustration evident in your tone. “i just worry about you, jeongin. is that so bad?”
“well, maybe i don’t need you to worry about me!” he shouted back. then, in a moment of blind frustration, he added, “maybe we shouldn’t even be together if you don’t trust me to take care of myself.”
as soon as the words left his mouth, regret hit him like a wave. his eyes widened, and he looked at you as if he wanted to take it all back. “wait, no,” he stammered, his voice softer now. “i didn’t mean that. i
 i don’t want that.”
your expression faltered, hurt flashing across your face. “jeongin
”
he stepped closer, his hands trembling as he reached for yours. “i’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “i didn’t mean it. i was angry, and i said something stupid. please don’t take it seriously. you mean so much to me, and i can’t lose you.”
tears welled up in his eyes as he looked at you, desperate to fix the mess he’d created. “i’ll do better,” he promised, his voice barely above a whisper. “just don’t leave.”
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han ☆
han’s emotions always bubbled just beneath the surface, and when he was upset, it showed in every word and expression. tonight, his frustration boiled over in a way he hadn’t intended.
“you don’t get it!” he yelled, pacing back and forth. “you don’t understand what it’s like to feel like you’re never enough!”
“jisung, i’m just trying to talk to you,” you said, your voice shaky. “why are you shutting me out?”
“because i don’t know how to talk about this!” he shouted back, his voice cracking. “maybe
 maybe it’d be better if we weren’t together. maybe then you wouldn’t have to deal with me.”
the second the words left his mouth, he froze. his hands dropped to his sides, and he looked at you with wide, tear-filled eyes. “no,” he whispered, shaking his head. “that’s not what i meant. i didn’t mean that at all.”
you stared at him, hurt and disbelief written all over your face. “how can you say that, jisung?”
he stepped closer, his voice trembling. “i’m sorry,” he said, tears streaming down his cheeks. “i was scared, and i let my fear get the best of me. i don’t want to lose you. you’re the only person who makes me feel like i’m enough, even when i don’t believe it myself.”
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seung ☆ min
seungmin was usually calm and level-headed, but even he had his limits. tonight, the argument had pushed him to a place he rarely went.
“why do you always think i’m the bad guy?” he snapped, his voice sharp. “i’m doing my best, but it’s never enough for you.”
“that’s not fair, seungmin,” you replied, your tone frustrated. “i just want us to communicate better.”
“maybe we shouldn’t communicate at all,” he said coldly. “maybe we should just end this.”
the second the words left his mouth, his heart sank. he saw the look of hurt on your face, and regret washed over him. “wait,” he said quickly, his voice softer now. “i didn’t mean that.”
you took a shaky breath, stepping back. “seungmin, you can’t just say things like that.”
he nodded, his expression filled with guilt. “i know. i’m sorry,” he said, his voice trembling. “i was angry, and i wasn’t thinking. please don’t take it seriously. i don’t want this to end. you’re
 everything to me.”
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chang ☆ bin
changbin’s temper was quick, but so was his regret. tonight, his frustration boiled over in a way he couldn’t control.
“why do you always have to push me?” he snapped, his voice rising. “can’t you just let me be for once?”
“i’m not pushing you, changbin,” you replied, hurt evident in your tone. “i just want to talk about what’s bothering you.”
“maybe we shouldn’t talk at all,” he shot back, his voice colder than usual. “maybe we should just end this.”
as soon as the words left his mouth, regret hit him like a truck. he froze, his eyes wide with realization. “wait,” he said quickly, his voice shaking. “no, i didn’t mean that.”
you stared at him, tears welling in your eyes. “how could you say that, changbin?”
“i’m sorry,” he said, stepping closer. his voice was softer now, filled with guilt. “i didn’t mean it. i was angry, and i wasn’t thinking. please don’t walk away. you mean everything to me, and i’ll do whatever it takes to fix this.”
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notes: i don’t like redoing the same prompt, but angst is fun, so enjoy!
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reasonsforhope · 2 days ago
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If I can also offer some additional thoughts to strawberryraviegutz, and anyone else who's worried about the same things:
There's zero evidence for the "250 year/10 generations" rule or whatever they call it. It's been a popular theory for quite some time, but every post about it cherrypicks examples of nations in history that lasted around that long and ignores all the ones that lasted longer or survived by adapting over time.
Literally every doomer post about it is based on that same cherrypicking and contemporary trends you see on social media, not long-term realistic projections used in actual academic circles, where they employ real scientific and historical evidence. Evidence that doesn't round off the lifespans of nations to some arbitrary number.
Not that I'm trying to downplay any existing problems, just that what we're dealing with today is hardly anything apocalyptic. It's really important to remember that increased awareness of a problem does not correlate to an increase in scale of said problem.
Also, despite what you may hear, there haven't really been many true collapses of entire civilizations in history. When states in the past have collapsed- Rome, China, India, the Mongol Empire, Alexander the Great's Empire, etc.- the people living there don't just disappear. They survive and go on to build new states that grow, change and evolve from there. That's a form of continuity, not total destruction.
And just as there has never been a true utopia, there has also never been a true dystopia. A dystopia is a literary device, not a state of being. So long as people disagree with and oppose cruelty and tyranny in any form, as is human nature, a true dystopia is impossible.
Especially because a dictator will never outlive the people. No matter how they may want to pretend otherwise, their grip on power is only ever temporary. The power held by the people is eternal.
I've seen more tangible good done in the last ten years than I thought would be possible, and I don't see any reason to stop believing that'll be true.
So don't give up just because of a few social media posts from people who have no idea what they're talking about. Every generation has had people who say these things and they're always proven wrong, so it's not worth your time and energy to worry about it.
Be kind to yourself and to others, and remember the world is a better place with you in it. We have not reached the end of history, not by a long shot.
Thank you for sending this in, and agreed!
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corroded-hellfire · 3 days ago
Note
I just need pre-relationship AYW!Eddie all pent up and feral for Reader. I need him whimpering when he touches himself after Reader leaves for the evening. I need him trying to picture anyone else besides his kids’ babysitter but he keeps picturing Reader.
Your wish is my command! 😘
Warnings: male masturbation, smut, p in v, unprotected (wrap it up), older!eddie, babysitter!reader, the longing is real
Words: 2.4k
[As You Wish masterlist]
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“Go to sleep now,” you grumble playfully, ruffling Luke’s curls as he smiles up at you from his bed.
“One more story?” Luke asks, though his voice betrays how sleepy he already is.
“Come on, buddy,” Eddie says from the doorway. “She’s been nice enough to stay for dinner and read you two bedtime stories already.”
A smile that steals Eddie’s breath grows on your lips as you turn to look at your boss.
“You make it sound like such a hardship,” you quip.
“I don’t think your union allows for overtime,” Eddie replies.
You let out a soft giggle and Eddie feels his insides begin to melt. It’s catastrophically unfair, the effect you have on him. Not in his whole life has Eddie met someone who so effortlessly turns him on and makes his heart race. As impossible as it is to ignore the feelings, Eddie tries not to linger on them for a few reasons. One, you’re a complete pipe dream. There is no way you, beautiful, intelligent, compassionate, and hilarious you would ever see a man over a decade older than you in the same light that he sees you. Two, and which he admits is arguably the bigger reason, is that he’s married. Sure, it hasn’t been a real marriage in
God knows how long. But it’s still a legally binding marriage that he hasn’t even attempted to separate from. Not for lack of want, though. It’s hard to see a point when it would cause the breakup of his boys’ family, and for what? So Eddie could be all alone in some smaller unfamiliar home that he struggles to afford on his own while caring for his sons, only getting to see them half the time he does now? No. He basically is doing it all alone right now, with the lack of input from Brittany, but at least Luke and Ryan are in the home they know and the two combined household incomes can give them a pretty good life.
Unfortunately, all the logic in the world can’t cure Eddie’s addiction to you.
“Close your eyes, sleepyhead.” You stand up from the edge of the four-year-old’s bed and lean over to press a kiss to his forehead.
The way you bend down towards the boy gives Eddie a spectacular view of your ass. He’s forced to dig his nails into the palms of his hands to suppress the groan that so desperately wants to escape. As much as he internally chides himself, Eddie can’t tear his eyes away either. He gets so few chances to just look at you, that he can’t bring himself to cut this precious time short.
“Night night,” Luke says through a yawn.
“Night, pal,” Eddie says.
You boop your index finger against the little boy’s nose before standing up straight and heading in Eddie’s direction. The two of you exit into the hallway and Eddie closes the door almost all the way–leaving it open just a crack to allow some of the hallway light in.
The two of you are silent as you walk to the living room, both silently dreading that it’s time to part for the evening. You swipe your bag up from the couch and slip it onto your shoulder.
“I guess I’ll, uh, see you tomorrow,” you say, reluctantly taking steps toward the front door.
“Thanks for staying longer than you had to,” Eddie says, walking you to the door like always. He feels like he should add the words “for the boys” to the end of his sentence, but he can’t bring himself to. As much as the boys adore you, Eddie knows he is without a doubt the happiest one that you stayed for dinner and until bedtime.
“It was fun,” you tell him. “I always have fun here.”
“Always?” Eddie teases, raising his eyebrows. “Can I remind you that you said that the next time Luke has a meltdown?”
“Sure,” you reply with a chuckle.
The electricity in the air threatens to spark at any moment as Eddie reaches around you to open the front door.
“Drive careful, sweetheart,” he says.
“No,” you tease with a playful smirk. “I’m going to drive recklessly. Run all the red lights.”
“Don’t give me reason to worry,” Eddie mumbles, knocking his shoulder against yours.
“Aww,” you coo. “You worry about me?”
Heat rises to Eddie’s cheeks and he desperately wills it to move back down his body.
“Alright, smart ass.” Eddie wrinkles his nose up and pretends to shove you out the door.
With a laugh, you playfully stumble down the walkway a few steps, acting as if his push was that strong.
“Oh, fine!” you lament over-dramatically. “I’ll be a good girl! Bye, Eddie.”
A good girl. Suddenly, Eddie wishes that heat and blood would stay in his face instead of rushing to his groin like it currently is.
“Bye, sweetheart.”
The moment you’re safely in your car and Eddie hears the engine start, he closes the front door and groans in time with the locking mechanism clicking into place.
“This just feels cruel,” he mumbles to himself as he rests his forehead against the cool wood of the door. He lets himself stand there until he hears your car rumble down the road and off into the night.
It takes a Herculean effort to push himself up and head deeper into the house. Out of habit, Eddie glances at the clock on the wall to see if Brittany will be home soon or not. It’s useless though—there’s never a set time she comes home. Who knows where she is or what she’s doing? Or who she’s doing. The pseudo-schedule the household used to follow has fallen by the wayside, so Eddie mentally tells himself to ignore it altogether. Easier said than done, of course.
When Eddie steps into the hallway it’s silent. No sounds of Luke sneaking out of bed to play with his toys or Ryan fumbling for his flashlight to read beneath his covers. Heaving a sigh, Eddie decides he might as well take care of the situation in his pants.
Despite Brittany not being home, Eddie locks the bedroom door behind him. Luke has also started the bad habit of opening any and every door without knocking first. So, better to be safe than sorry.
“Okay, think of someone else,” Eddie says to himself as he rids himself of his clothes. “Anyone else. Not her.”
It shouldn’t be hard to think of another woman to get himself off. Hell, for the entirety of Eddie’s teenage years, he could’ve jacked it to almost any woman and it would be great. Now he can’t seem to get this one specific, unattainable woman out of his mind.
He shucks the last of his clothes off and lays down on his bed, wracking his brain for someone who can get the job done. Julia Roberts? Nah. Jennifer Aniston? No. Cindy Crawford? Nope. Nicole Kidman? Maybe
.no. Aunt Viv from The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air? The first, not the second one. Still no.
“Fuck,” Eddie groans, letting his eyes fall closed as he wraps his hand around his semi-hard shaft. He licks over his lips and tries to let himself relax. The only way Eddie is going to be able to take care of this problem is to think about you and he knows it. He also knows he needs to hurry up if he wants to finish before Brittany comes home.
The mere thought of the woman who sleeps next to him at night has him softening slightly in his hand. A snort of laughter comes out, Eddie finding that humorous. Objectively, Brittany is beautiful, but knowing the rot and decay that lays just beneath the surface ruins any attractiveness Eddie could ever find in her anymore. Even though he already knows what will happen, Eddie immediately switches his thoughts over to you to see the effect. It’s instant. His cock comes to life at the very thought of your name.
No shit, Eddie thinks to himself as he opens his legs a little wider. Because she’s literally a fucking goddess. God, those eyes. Eddie’s hand grips himself a little tighter and moves down towards the base.
“Say you’re a good girl again, baby,” Eddie mumbles under his breath. Fuck, he can’t believe he was lucky enough to hear those words come from your lips. Jesus, he can hardly imagine being lucky enough to come home to you at the end of the day. Walking in the door after work and seeing you is already what he looks forward to all day, he can’t fathom how he would feel if you greeted him with a kiss and stayed there with him and the boys all night. And once the boys go to bed it’s time for some fun.
“Please.”
The word tumbles from Eddie’s lips but he’s not entirely sure what he’s asking for. You to be there with him? You to be by his side always? You to be here, naked, with your hand around him instead of his own?
Okay, Eddie thinks, shifting to make himself more comfortable. There we go, think about coming home to her.
He begins to slowly stroke his cock up and down.
Eddie imagines walking through the front door and kicking his boots off. Your voice hums sweetly from the kitchen and it brings a smile to his face.
“What smells so good, huh?” he asks as he strolls into the room.
The sight he’s greeted by is almost enough to bring him to his knees. You stand at the counter, facing him, an apron on and a bowl full of cake batter held in your hands.
“Welcome home,” you say.
Dark brown eyes follow your every move as you slowly dip your forefinger into the batter and pop it into your mouth. Eddie finds himself holding his breath as you slide your finger out from between your plush pink lips at a torturous pace.
As if the first time wasn’t enough, you dip your finger back in, but instead of putting it in your mouth this time, you point your finger up and stick your tongue out to lick every speck of vanilla batter off of it.
“Oh, fuck me,” Eddie moans.
With a soft laugh, you set the bowl down and look up at Eddie through your thick eyelashes.
“Funny. I was going to say that to you.”
A rough growl reverberates from Eddie’s chest as he moves forward to grab you by the hips. It’s only once he has his hands on you that he realizes not only are you wearing the apron—you’re wearing only the apron.
“God damn, baby,” he mutters. Calloused hands slide back just slightly and come into contact with your bare ass. He drops his head forward to rest against yours with a helpless whine.
You giggle, tilting your head up to brush your nose against his.
“I like the sounds you make,” you tell him, voice thick with lust.
Before he responds, Eddie presses a few gentle kisses along your bare shoulder and up the side of your throat.
“I want to hear your noises, too.”
“Hmm,” you hum. “I don’t think that’ll be very hard to manage.” You reach up with your left hand and tug on the tied apron string resting on the nape of your neck. The front of the apron falls down, leaving your entire torso exposed to Eddie.
A guttural groan meets your ears as strong hands grab you by the waist and help you up onto the counter. Immediately, you spread your legs and Eddie stands between them, the two of you fighting with the apron to get it all the way off you.
Eddie tosses it over his shoulder as you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling the two of your bodies as close as possible.
“Eddie,” you whine, reaching up to bury your fingers in his unruly curls.
“What baby?” His breath brushes against your lips, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine.
“Need you.” Using your grip on his hair, you pull Eddie’s face down to crash against yours.
Mouths meet, lips dancing, tongues exploring, and teeth clashing. Strong yet gentle fingertips dig into your skin, yearning to hold you as tight as humanly possible. Nothing is close enough.
Eddie pulls back just enough to playfully nip at your bottom lip.
“Being such a good girl for me,” he rasps.
A smile tugs at the corners of your mouth as you run your nose along the edge of Eddie’s jawline.
“Wanna be so good for you. Wanna feel you, Eddie. Pretty please?”
A smug smirk grows on Eddie’s face as he reaches between your two bodies to unzip his navy blue coveralls. You shove the material down his hips as Eddie whips his white undershirt off over his head.
“Ready for me, princess?”
Eddie lines himself up with your entrance, glancing up at your face as he waits for your approval.
“God, yes!” You nod emphatically, wiggling your hips in an attempt to get him inside of you faster.
Eddie grins at your eagerness, putting both of you out of your misery as he pushes inside.
“Fuck,” he groans.
“Oh!” You whimper, clinging to Eddie’s shoulders.
The sweet little noises spilling from your lips only encourage Eddie. He pulls almost all the way out before thrusting back into your tight wet heat. It feels as close to euphoria as Eddie’s ever felt. He wants to spend forever between your legs, but it feels far too good to last long.
“Feels so good,” you whine.
“Yeah, baby?” Eddie asks. “Like when I
oh, fuck.”
Eddie doesn’t have time to imagine what he’d say next before hot cum starts to pour over his fist.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he mumbles as his orgasm works its way through his body. His hand keeps going, milking his cock for everything that it’s worth.
Once he’s well and truly spent, Eddie lets his boneless body sink into the mattress. His arm flings over the side of the bed and his fingertips brush against his t-shirt laying on the floor. Blindly, he picks it up and wipes his coated hand off before wiping the cum off his abdomen, legs, and anywhere else it went.
“Holy shit,” Eddie sighs. His head falls to the side and his eyes slip closed. A goofy smile comes to his face as his mind returns to you. “Fuck, I’m so gone for her.”
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cybrasigilism · 2 days ago
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how dae-ho would act like if he had a crush on reader and how he’d ask them out
this is too cute! i desperately need to write for dae-ho more, he’s just such a sweetheart i fear :>
Crush Headcanons! (Player 388/Kang Dae-ho Headcanons)
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warning: no smut! | lowercase intended | not proofread! | these are my headcanons for this character, please be respectful even if my opinions on the character differ from your own :)
character: kang dae-ho (player 388)
A/N: this is a mix of headcanons + drabble but i hope thats alright it’s nice to take a break from smut every now and again :) i’ve got lots of dae-ho in my requests so i’ll try my best to feed you all .3. of course, i hope you enjoy!
 â€Ż ──── â€Żâ˜œâƒ ────
⟱ the moment he first took notice of you as everyone was getting their photos taken for the games, he was completely starstruck. from that point forward, dae-ho found his eyes being drawn to you wherever you guys were
⟱ he felt a new sense of urgency to make sure you lived throughout these games, after red light green light he made a vow with himself to ensure you were protected at all costs. he was quick to introduce himself post the first game, and you guys were fast friends.
⟱ he’s not the type to be insecure or jealous when he sees you interacting with the other men inbetween games. there was few men you did talk to anyways, seeing as most of them either got on your nerves or intimidated you way too much. however, he did find himself a tiny bit jealous when he saw how easily you got along with the other guys in his group
⟱ you didn’t end up making it on dae-ho’s team for the six legged pentathlon, but he did his best to calm your nerves before the game started up. he promised he would cheer you on and that he definitely did. he definitely lit up when you ran up to him afterwards, going on about how worried you were about him after you left
⟱ he 100% would share his food with you, especially if he noticed you were particularly shaken up after a game
⟱ adding onto the last piece, dae-ho will also definitely try to cheer you up after the games
⟱ i think he would definitely hold off on asking you out, especially during such a high stakes situation as the squid games. at some point later on, when you guys are closer, you two will promise to see more of each other once the games are finished.
⟱ although dae-ho certainly isn’t one to start a fight, he will put himself between you and any unruly players who try to start something with you. he doesn’t have any trouble putting someone in their place if he feels you would be in any sort of danger
⟱ insisted that you slept with his group during lights out, so he could watch over you and be certain on your safety when you were sleeping
⟱ 100% hugs you tightly after the mingle game, especially if you two got separated. you could tell he didn’t want to let you go at this point, as he was definitely worried that you didn’t make it into a group before the time ran out
⟱ will for sure ask you all about your life before the games, and even about what you’ll do with the prize money when you guys get out
──── â€Żâ˜œâƒ ────
apologies for the less headcanons this time around! i saw more opportunities for small drabbles between the headcanons and i had to seize it! i had a lot of fun writing this out, and i hope you guys all had just as much fun reading it! as always any advice/constructive criticism on how i can improve my writing is appreciated and requested
have a splendid day lovelies 💋
tags: @gongyoosgf @agorsnotsworld @kvstjwonnie @marymustdie @pink-apples001 @wonestro @luvlyfandoms @putrescentpoet
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formerplumi · 2 days ago
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( crow choir. entry one ) ── dust of snow ( m.s | prev/next )
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author's note at the end
you have three older brothers- no, two older brothers. you’ve only heard of the third. you can hardly think of them as such, feeling traitorous to your old family
 families. but you are also a lonely child, so you give them permission to be props of your plain life.
the eldest, with stark blue eyes and dimples at his near-permanent smiles is named richard grayson. he’d given you a warm grin the day you arrived, that somewhat wavered at the blank look you hoped you gave him. you don’t talk to him, but sometimes you wish you did.
you know nothing of the second, apart from his first name; jason. the usual answers to unasked questions, that piece together via general conversations, don’t form here, and you can’t be bothered to ask. you wonder where he is, does he not come to visit?
the youngest of the three is older than you, tim drake the butler says, by maybe one or two years, you never tried to figure it out. he came to the house about a few months after you arrived, but seems far more involved with bruce’s business than you ever will be (ever hope to be). there’s a familiar twitch to his brows, and you relate it to old inquisitive roommates, the ones that tried to figure you out without asking questions and always gave up eventually. 
it's a relief he doesn't even try at all.
it does feel a little odd, to not have to talk to anyone just to shoo them away. you strangely miss it, the feeling of being irritated at bothersome small talk. in the silence of the manor, which had not much for a child to do, you start to feel lonely
you've never felt lonely before. alone, yes, isolated, absolutely, but lonely? you've never wanted company. not from anyone who wasn't... forget it.
and thus, you're in an odd situation. you want to be a part of the family, but you have no interest in talking to them. why, the mere idea makes you sweat all over, and you prefer your few meals in your room.
you don't like it. wanting so badly to converse with your brothers, get to know them the way you knew your old previous foster-care siblings, but not being able to.
in your old houses, the children would be somewhat put into forced proximity, there was no choice other than to call out for company. you'd gotten absurdly used to being reached out to without having to do it yourself. your brothers must be busy, or you must be too quiet for them to notice you around.
so with all the courage you could muster, you crept up to an idle older brother, visiting after so long from bludhaven. you might implode from the short moment where he looked at you with confusion, not knowing who you are, before giving you a awkward smile of acknowledgement. no matter, it's not his fault.
he nods off your subtle attempt at asking for his time, maybe you're not being clear enough? it's enough to put you off, so you leave quickly after he gives you a small promise to talk later, maybe get out of the house for a while.
it's such a small thing, but it makes you embarrassed. you try to build up a little stubbornness, and look to find tim. but when you find him immersed deeply in a book, a journal of some sort, you decide otherwise and leave.
it's okay. you'll try again! when you're feeling better. better and livelier.
livelier.
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your patterned quilt does little to keep away the monstrous cold of gotham's winter nights, and does it wreck though your nerves and leave you shivering.
the butler; alfred, had given you a good understanding of the room's systems, yet another thing that'd take time to get used to, and you knew the switches that would connect your vents to the central heating system.
but it feels so surreal, and the familiarity of huddling into your own ice cold limbs for warmth is a comfort you can't let go off just yet. you mustn't allow these new privileges to make you forget who you are. what you are, and what you deserve.
you recall a young boy in one of your old homes, discussing earnestly with your 'sisters' about what he'd do if he had all of gotham's money. the prospect of being filthy rich had always irked you to a small degree, to be well-off when others struggle. was it guilt? 
he'd gone on and on about the different things he'd get. a curly-haired poodle, a shining red bicycle, clothes that made him look like a proper gentleman, from a gentler city. you wonder solemnly where he is now, wishing you could share the fortunes you've been shoved into with him. someone who wanted it, deserved it.
deserving... deserving something is odd. whatever makes an individual deserving of something? the hardships they recieve, and the hardships they pass out?
you don’t remember your mother, having gained metaphorical consciousness at the age of six, when your sister started taking care of you instead. you made out from her teary, drunk mumblings that she was an awfully sophisticated woman. she’d colour herself with red blushes and redder lip stains, wear family jewels she refused to sell to her ‘business’ meetings. thin-framed glasses with the eyes of a vixen’s. 
what your sister muttered most about was her many nights away from home. one-sided conversations that plunged a small anchor to your heart, because you knew you were a product of one of them. 
when she was in a bitter mood, your sister never shied away from berating you for your existence. she, unlike you, was born in wedlock. yes, to an unhappy couple, who threw picture frames and cheap souvenirs at each other before splitting up, but she knew her father.
a ridiculously strange thing to hold above one’s head. “i knew my absent father. no one knows yours.” but your depraved heart and dull mind took it so deeply. so, so deeply. 
were those hardships? did you deserve them? others have it worse, right? so do you deserve this? this wealth?
now that you do know your father, you can’t help but resent the idea of knowing. did he know? that he left his child to an unbecoming family and an irresponsible sister? did he know that the guilt of starving your sister to eat yourself made you so incredibly weak-minded at the idea of being full? did he know that you refuse to switch the heater on in the cold, because you don’t know if your old foster siblings got the same luxury? all while the elites of gotham stay in their glasshouses with their rose gardens and wine cupboards.
you can’t put your finger to it. it’s not jealousy, it’s not resentment, it’s not hatred for his absence so far
 is it guilt?
you don't know what to do with this abundance of luxury. you’ve lived a lifetime of pet mice from old caretakers, mice that died from the dust that creeped out of cracked floor boards and owls that haunted your window sills. a lifetime of reminiscing about a sobbing woman in your apartment, thinking about all your promises of providing a better life for her, only for her to die in front your eyes. a lifetime of wondering why mommy didn’t come back. why daddy's never there. who daddy even is.
someone else should have it. someone else should have the option to ask the butler for a piece of chocolate pastry at an odd time. to know about their father after countless days of not knowing him. to feel pretty in new dress suits after years of wearing the same two sets of clothes every week.
someone who deserves it more.
your sister.
you miss her.
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small events make you change too fast for even your own liking. small things made you so desperately attached to your big sister, small things made you so frightened, so ill, to try to talk to brothers who barely knew you only by your shadow. small things made you tolerate your father more, and mourn the fact you couldn't ever connect to him the way the others did.
small, small things. that troubeled you too much, made you decide it was time to leave. running away from reality in the comfort of your mind when you zone out, is not much different from physically running away, right? troublesome things are not worth the trouble. so you'll run away, and you'll be free. of duties you were never given.
yet another one of gotham’s teenage misfortunes. who leaves a home of riches with a light mind, with the desires of soaring through lost years in gotham like the daftest of pigeons, with no worries or vows. they leave a home of blood and bonds with a heavy heart, lamenting that this time, the choice to leave a permanent, forever family lay on them. they left unspoken conversations unsaid, and imaginary memories within their imagination.
...but, these conversations, these fake memories, become the objects of obsession, for those left behind.
where's the little crow who stalked the corridors, whose naive, cloudy eyes watched from behind walls?
alfred, where's (name)?
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INTERACTIONS AND REBLOGS VV APPRECIATED !! incase it was unclear, the sections jump around in the timeline. i did want to leave it to reader interpretation, but since this is the footer, there's no harm in explaining. "you have three brothers..." and "your patterned quilt does little..." are interchangeable within the plot. both are placed after tim's given the mantle of robin, but before jason's re-entry as the red hood. the last part however, is well after both, and damian's entry. anyway you can consider this entry as like, a vague plot summary? there's a lot that happens in between and after, most of the story is about after, but i like setting the ground for this stuff.
once again, if you are interested in the series, do interact! comments, reblogs, etc are so appriciated, to anyone who posts on tumblr! i'll try to get the next entry in soon, but i can't confirm anything!
thank you for reading!!
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steveseddie · 2 days ago
Text
looking for something dumb to do
written for @steddiebingo 12 days of christmas mini event | prompt: proposal | rating: t | wc: 2,1k | tags: modern setting, past billy/steve, first meetings, flirting, fake proposal
read on ao3
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Eddie sits at the restaurant, scrolling mindlessly on his phone, waiting for Wayne.
He laughs at yet another one of those hilarious videos of parents doing the Grinch prank on their kids. Seriously, there are so many and he finds them infinitely amusing. He just sent the latest one to Gareth, knowing he’ll get a kick out of it too, and is waiting for his reply when someone slides into the seat in front of him. 
He knows it’s not his uncle before he even looks up because he just texted Eddie to say he was running late– and ain’t that rich coming from the same man who’s always complaining about Eddie never being on time? 
Anyway. 
Eddie locks his phone just as Gareth’s reply comes in but he does get a glimpse of a string of laughing emojis before he looks up. “Sorry, man, that seat is–” 
But the rest of the words die in his throat when his brain momentarily stops working. It does that sometimes, especially around hot guys. Like the one sitting in front of Eddie, staring at him with a tiny frown between his eyebrows, probably wondering why Eddie stopped talking like he got sniped. 
“Taken. That seat is taken,” he finishes. Unlike me, Eddie thinks as he gives the guy an obvious once-over. 
“Shit, sorry, of course, but can you– can you hear me out for a second?” 
Eddie raises an eyebrow at him, his interest piqued. The guy is hunched over himself like he’s trying to hide and his voice has a frantic tilt.
“Uh sure, man, what’s up?” 
The guy probably expected Eddie to tell him to fuck off because he lets out a relieved little sigh when he agrees to listen to him. Then he leans over the table, lowering his voice. 
“Do you see that guy with the mustache waiting at the entrance? He’s my ex-boyfriend and a dick and he just showed up with the girl that he cheated on me with,” he explains hurriedly. 
Eddie locates the guy waiting to be seated and the girl holding his hand. He’s hot and she’s hot but the guy sitting in front of him has them both beat.
“So I haven’t seen him since I caught them together and ended things with him and– you know when you break up with someone and constantly think about how things will go when you run into them again? How they’ll see you and realize they lost the breakup and made a mistake by letting you go?” Eddie gives a short nod and the guy keeps going. “Right so that was my plan, only there’s a problem because the guy I was meeting for dinner tonight stood me up and now I’m here alone and pathetic and fucking Billy is here with his fiancĂ©e! Yes, they’re going to get married! Even if he always insisted he would never do that and–” 
He keeps rambling but Eddie is stuck on the fact that not only did this guy get cheated on but also someone stood him up. What the fuck? 
If he ever went on a date with someone as hot as him, Eddie would lock him down faster than anyone can say–
“–help?” 
Eddie blinks. Shit. The guy just asked him something and he has no idea what it was. 
“Uh, s–sure, how can I help?” 
Despite his flawless attempt to make it seem like he was paying attention, the guy can tell Eddie zoned out at some point. It drags an amused chuckle out of him. “I thought I could sit here with you until they leave or until they are seated and I can sneak out without them seeing me,” he says, running a hand through his hair and giving Eddie a sheepish look. 
Eddie’s phone lights up with a text then. The guy’s eyes dart down, and even if he can’t read what it says, he makes his own assumptions. 
“Unless– unless your date is almost here and you need me to fuck off before they arrive?” He says, his expression turning panicked again. He moves his chair back as if to get up and leave, almost taking out the poor waiter.
Eddie reaches across the table and grabs hold of his sweater, stopping him. “Actually my date is just my uncle and he said he’s running late,” he says with his fingers wrapped around the guy’s wrist. 
His eyes flicker down, widening a little but he doesn’t pull his hand back. “So?” 
“So you can stay.”
The guy visibly relaxes. “Fuck, thanks so much–”
“Eddie,” he offers when the guy trails off. 
“Thanks, Eddie,” the guy says with a lopsided grin that makes Eddie’s chest flutter. 
Eddie nods and leans back until his chair is balancing on two legs. He has no choice but to let go of the guy’s sweater. “So what are we doing here? Are we friends? Are we on a first date? Have we been dating for a while? What’s the game plan, big boy?”
The guy sputters, adorably flustered. “We don’t– we don’t have to do anything like that, man.” 
“Why? I’m not pretty enough to make your ex jealous?” Eddie teases, pouting a little. 
“No!” The guy hurries to say then realizes what that sounds like and blushes furiously. “I mean– no, that’s not it. You’re definitely pretty. Handsome. Hot. Uh–”
Eddie can’t help the way his grin gets bigger with every compliment until he can feel his dimples digging into his cheeks. By then the guy’s face is as red as the tablecloth. “Oh keep ‘em coming, sweetheart. Flattery definitely works on me.”
He chuckles nervously. “It’s just– I can’t ask you to do that, man.”
“Do what? Pretend that a guy like me can get a date with someone as hot as you?” He leans forward again, resting his chin on his palms and smirking. “Oh, baby, it would be my pleasure.” 
“Jesus,” the guy mutters. Eddie’s blatant flirting doesn’t give him a chance to get his blush under control. “I guess we could pretend we’re on a date if you’re up for it.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Eddie notices Billy and his fiancĂ©e following a waiter to their table. They’re going to walk right past them and there’s no way he won’t see Steve. As they get closer, Eddie catches a glimpse of the engagement ring on the girl’s finger–
“I’ll do you one better,” he says as he gets an idea. “Do you trust me?” 
The guy lets out an amused laugh. “I just met you,” he says, and when Eddie shrugs like he’s saying– so? he adds, “Okay, sure, why not?” 
Eddie shoots him a grin. “What’s your name?” 
“Steve.” 
“Your full name.”
“Harrington,” Steve says, his face pulling into a frown. “Why do you need my last–”
“Steve Harrington!” Eddie says loudly, watching as Steve’s eyes widen almost comically. The people around them whip their heads in their direction, including Billy and his girl. Perfect.
“I was planning to do this after dinner but I just can’t hold myself back anymore,” Eddie continues just as loudly. He furtively removes one of his many rings before pushing his chair back and standing up. 
He shoots Steve a quick wink and drops down on one knee. 
“Oh my God,” Steve whispers disbelievingly as he understands what’s happening. His shock only makes Eddie’s plan more believable. 
“Steve, Stevie, sweetheart, I still remember the moment when we met like it was five minutes ago,” he starts, watching Steve’s lips twitch almost imperceptibly. “I remember thinking you were so fucking out of my league you shouldn’t even be talking to me, but fate willed it so, and now I’m lucky enough to call you mine. So now I ask you to let me call you mine forever. Steve, the love of my life, my Prince Charming, the best lay I’ve ever had, will you please marry me?” He finishes by holding up his ring, looking expectantly at Steve, wondering if he’ll play along. 
He does.
Wiping a fake tear, he leans forward on his chair, cupping Eddie’s cheeks between his hands. “Eddie, our time together might seem short but I’ve always known I was right to pick you,” Steve says and Eddie has to hold back a snigger when he follows his lead– sticking to the truth as much as they can. “Now I’m picking you again. Forever. Yes, I will marry you.”
The people around them start clapping when Eddie takes Steve’s hand and slides his ring on his finger. He presses a kiss to the back of his hand, earning some cooing from the two women sitting on the table next to theirs. Billy doesn’t clap and his nose wrinkles when Steve pulls Eddie to his feet and into a hug,  glaring at the back of his head.
Eddie can’t help but smirk against Steve’s shoulder. 
“You’re insane,” he mutters into Eddie’s hair. It should be weird hugging a stranger but Eddie actually enjoys it. It feels familiar somehow. “Thank you.”
Eddie pulls back and grins, his hands still on Steve’s hips. “Aren’t you glad you picked me, huh, sweetheart?” 
Steve lets out a laugh. “Yeah, yeah, I am.”
“Eddie?” A familiar gruff voice says and Eddie whips his head around to see his uncle approaching, his eyes darting from Eddie to Steve to Eddie’s hands on Steve’s waist and Steve’s arms looped around Eddie’s neck. 
“Wayne!” He says, his grin not faltering for a second. This isn’t the weirdest thing Wayne has walked in on when it comes to Eddie. “You’re just in time to meet your new son-in-law!”
Wayne’s eyebrows shoot up and next to him, Steve makes a strangled sound. 
Eddie signals a waiter and it turns out to be the same one who was guiding Billy and his girl to their table before. Billy is nowhere to be found, he probably scurried off to their table while Steve and Eddie were distracted with each other, hoping Steve wouldn’t see him. Serves you right, asshole, he thinks triumphantly. 
“What can I do for the happy couple? Congratulations, by the way,” the waiter says and Eddie beams, pulling Steve closer with the arm wrapped around his waist. 
“Thank you, kind sir. Can you get us another chair for my uncle?”
The waiter nods and goes to retrieve one. 
“Eddie, you don’t have to– I can just go–” Steve says, a faint pink blush covering his cheeks.
“I can’t let you leave, Steve. We’re engaged now, it’d look weird,” Eddie says, and it’s true but he also doesn’t want to say goodbye to Steve yet.
And maybe Steve doesn’t want to say goodbye either because he folds easily. “Yeah, okay.”
They explain to Wayne what he walked into and his uncle gets a kick out of it. He and Steve get along surprisingly well, and by the end of the night, it almost feels like Steve was part of their dinner plans from the beginning. 
Wayne leaves shortly after dessert but Steve and Eddie stick around for one more drink, neither of them wanting the night to end. 
It has to, eventually, but Eddie is pretty sure that this won’t be the last he sees of Steve, not after they spent the whole night getting to know each other and flirting up a storm.
On their way out they run into Billy and his girlfriend, and Steve almost seems surprised when they do. Like he forgot Billy was there, despite him being the reason why he talked to Eddie in the first place.  Their conversation is short but Eddie makes sure to hold Steve’s hand the whole time and call Billy ‘Bobby’ a total of three times just to annoy him.
After they leave, Eddie walks Steve to his car. 
“Thanks again,” he says, leaning against the door. “For helping me out. And for dinner.”
“It was my pleasure,” Eddie smiles. “We should do it again sometime.”
Steve quirks an eyebrow. “Stage a proposal?”
Eddie chuckles. “Well, I was thinking about dinner but I’m always happy to get down on my knees for a hot guy,” he says with a wink. 
A slightly strangled laugh tumbles out of Steve’s lip but his eyes sparkle with interest. “Maybe let’s start with dinner. Just the two of us.”
They exchange numbers, promising to call each other. When Eddie turns around to start walking toward his van, Steve calls his name.
“Don’t forget your ring,” he says, sliding it off. 
But Eddie reaches out to stop him. “Keep it,” he says, “you can give it to me next time.” 
With a grin, Steve slides it back on. 
He ends up keeping the ring, but that’s okay because Eddie gets to keep Steve. 
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yuujispinkhair · 17 hours ago
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I WANNA BE YOUR ENDGAME – Chapter 11
đŸ’â€ïž A Hockey Romance feat. modern!Sukuna
Pairing: HockeyPlayer!Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: College AU, Hockey AU, fluff + smut Playlist: I wanna be your Endgame Word Count: 4.5k Warnings: 18+, smut, cigarettes, alcohol. Fuckbuddies to lovers. Reader is a creative writing student. Sukuna is an ice hockey player + history student. This story will have approximately 14 chapters. Minors don't interact. Header by me. Divider @/benkeibear
MASTERLIST
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You are deep in thought as you walk towards the ice hockey arena. Sukuna asked you to meet him there at ten for another private ice skating lesson. You can't help but grin because, yeah, you are certainly in need of more lessons. But it's a bit weird that he wants to meet up so late. You didn't even know the arena is still open at that time of night, but you won't question the guy who practically lives in the hockey arena. Plus, Sukuna is busy with his studies, hockey practice, and his insane workout schedule, so maybe this is the only free time he has this week.
In the end, it doesn't matter because who are you trying to kid? You would never say no when Sukuna wants to see you. Even if he knocked on your door at 3 a.m. and asked you to once again be his getaway driver for some prank on a rival team, you would grab your jacket and leave with him. You are down bad for your fuckbuddy, and you know it. And you will take every minute you can have with him for as long as it lasts.
Your grin turns into a bittersweet smile. You still can't figure out how Sukuna feels about you. Sometimes you think he likes you too. Like when he acted so jealous when Satoru tried to hit on you. Or when he smiles that rare smile at you and looks deeply into your eyes with that almost dreamy look in his maroon eyes.
But you don't know for sure. You could ask Sukuna, of course. Or you could confess how you feel. But the thing is, you are too scared. Too scared that you misinterpreted things. That you made more out of it in your fantasy than there really is. After all, it has happened before. Your mind is the mind of a writer. Someone who spends her life in her head. And maybe you once again mixed up reality with your fantasies.
So it's better not to do anything. Safer. Because you know that the moment you tell Sukuna you see more in him than your fuckbuddy, and he doesn't reciprocate those feelings, it will be over. And you aren't ready for that. Just the thought of losing him makes you drown in anxiety.
You reach the dimly lit small plaza in front of the hockey arena, and your heart jumps to your throat when you see Sukuna leaning casually against the closed entrance, smoking a cigarette while waiting for you.
He's dressed in grey sweatpants and a black hoodie under his equally black jacket. The glow of the cigarette he's bringing to his smirking lips lights up his angular jaw and his facial tattoos, and the light coming from the street lamp lets his pastel pink hair look almost like a halo on top of the bad boy's head.
Sukuna watches you with that cat-like and always slightly amused gaze, making your heart race like crazy. The effect he has on you is insane. You walk towards him with weak knees, feeling flustered and giddy, unable to stop yourself from smiling broadly.
Sukuna flicks his half-smoked cigarette elegantly onto the ground and crushes it with his Nikes. He grins at you, greeting you with that sexy, velvety voice,
"Hey, princess."
Sukuna reaches out to ruffle your hair and laugh that low, rough laugh when you squeal and pat his hand away even while you smile at him and wish you could just grab his hand and hold it and never let go again.
Sukuna's hand brushes over yours and then glides down your back until it comes to rest on the small of your back to pull you slightly closer. Sukuna's eyes trail slowly over your face. He licks his lips when his gaze lands on your mouth, and for a moment, you think he will kiss you, but then he smirks his typical cocky smirk and jerks his tattooed chin towards the large glass door behind him.
"Let's go. You keep watch while I get us inside."
"What? I knew something was wrong when you said to meet here at ten at night! We cannot break in!"
Sukuna laughs, and his smirk grows even wider,
"Technically, it's not breaking in if I have a key."
He pulls a keychain in the shape of a tiger head out of his jacket and lets it dangle from his long, tattooed fingers, presenting you with a single key glittering lightly in the light coming from the streetlamp.
You raise a suspicious eyebrow,
"Did you steal that key?"
"Nah, our coach gave it to me. Believe it or not, I am a trusted team member. Let's just say that when he gave me the key, he said it was for emergencies, and it's debatable whether our private ice skating lesson counts as an emergency. But who cares? I wanted to have the arena all to ourselves. Also, I am the fucking star player of this team, so I should be allowed in here anytime I fucking want."
Sukuna winks at you, and you shake your head incredulously at his typical display of arrogance. But at the same time, you can't help but laugh, and your heart jumps at the thought that Sukuna planned this. That he wanted to be alone with you. A secret night in the hockey arena. Just the two of you. It's romantic.
Sukuna slings his large hockey bag over one shoulder and unlocks the door. He holds it open for you, like a gentleman in an old movie, making butterflies flutter in your stomach as you enter. The door closes behind you, and Sukuna's tall body bumps gently into you, his low voice close to your ear,
"We have to keep the lights off, though, because I don't want the janitor to come to check what's going on."
He grins at you and takes your hand into his much larger one, interlacing your fingers and giving your hand a squeeze. Holding it just like you wished he would only a minute ago. Sukuna's voice is laced with amusement when he adds,
"Don't worry, princess. I got you. I would find my way through this arena even blind."
You chuckle softly, excitement tingling in your veins, your pulse racing so fast that you are sure Sukuna can feel it where your palms are pressed against each other.
Sukuna leads you down the dark hallway that's only lit by the emergency lights. The hockey arena seems ghostly like this, too dark and too silent. It would be creepy if you were here alone, but with Sukuna by your side and his hand holding yours, you feel completely safe.
Sukuna finds his way through the nightly hockey arena with ease, proof of how much time he spends here, all those countless hours of training and hockey games and team meetings. He brings you to the player's bench without any accident, turning around to grin proudly at you as he tugs you towards him and gently but firmly makes you sit on the bench.
The huge arena seems a lot smaller tonight when almost all the lights are off. The only light comes from the LED strips fixed to the boards around the rink. They cast the ice and the first few rows of the stands into a fairytale-like soft half-light. It makes your stomach flutter. Being here in the nightly hockey arena feels so intimate as if you and Sukuna are the only people in the whole world.
You steal a curious glance at Sukuna. He is pulling his hockey skates out of his bag and puts them on with routined moves, his long tattooed fingers tying the laces so gracefully that you find it impossible to look away.
Sukuna turns his head to smirk at you, catching you staring at him instead of putting on your own ice skates. But before you can get flustered, Sukuna is already getting off the bench and on his knees in front of you with that damn sexy smirk on his handsome face. He holds out a large hand while cocking his head,
"Come on, give me your foot, princess. I'll help you."
You feel so nervous suddenly. It's stupid because you are used to doing all kinds of other things with Sukuna that involve being a lot closer to him with a lot less clothing, and yet this here feels so strangely intimate.
You slip out of your sneakers and carefully place one socked foot in Sukuna's hand. He smirks a lopsided smirk and puts the ice skates expertly on your feet, kneeling before you the whole time while carefully lacing them up.
He takes his time, working focused while being so gentle and caring, and you can't stop looking at him, how he, the star player of the hockey team, kneels before you with his pink hair and pretty, tattooed face. You're hit with such an intense wave of longing that it almost makes you sob. You want to tell Sukuna you love him, want to tell him how much he and all your shared moments mean to you.
Your lips open, but no words come out, and you close your mouth again when Sukuna pats your leg and grins up at you,
"All done. Let's get on the ice."
He gets up, towering over you again, so tall and broad. He looks intimidating with his muscular, tall build and face tattoos, but you know him by now. It's funny, but Sukuna is the person you feel most at ease with. Even when your heart is pounding like crazy, just at the feel of his warm, calloused hands wrapping around yours and pulling you up from the bench and into his arms.
You can smell his cologne, that fresh, sexy scent that makes your head spin with want. You bite your lip, grinning up at Sukuna as you make the first tentative steps on the ice skates, your hands clinging tightly to Sukuna's. His hold on you is firm and safe as he leads you carefully to the ice.
You are still wobbly on the ice skates and not really confident you will stay upright for long, but you don't have to worry, you realize. Sukuna doesn't seem to plan on letting go of you tonight. He has one strong arm around you while his other hand holds yours safely, his long fingers interlaced with yours, offering a comforting warmth even here on the cold rink.
Skating across the ice with Sukuna is fun, just like it was the last time. He moves as if he is walking on normal ground, so skilled and sure on his hockey skates that you can't stop marveling at how graceful he looks. He gives you instructions, his low voice soft in the silent arena as if he doesn't want to disturb the serene atmosphere. And you laugh as you let him pull you along and try to get a feeling for the ice beneath your feet.
You do the second round across the rink, and Sukuna slowly pulls his arm that was around your waist away. He is skating next to you, holding your hand while his maroon eyes are on you, carefully checking if you are able to keep the balance without the added safety of his arm around you.
And to your delight, it works. You smile and make a triumphant noise as you skate next to Sukuna, only holding his hand, and he laughs, looking at you with one of his rare, dazzling smiles.
There's a softness in his eyes tonight as he watches you. It makes your pulse race and feel giddy and full of adrenaline. But the problem is that you are so distracted staring at Sukuna that you lose your focus and slip on the ice after all, squealing loudly as you lose your balance and are about to tumble down.
But Sukuna catches you, his muscular arms instantly wrapped safely around you, pulling you against him, making both of you glide back a few meters from the impact of your body slamming into Sukuna. Your squeal turns into breathless laughter as you cling to Sukuna's hoodie, holding tightly onto him.
Sukuna raises an amused eyebrow at you,
"So eager to get all cozy with me, huh, princess?"
His low voice is warm, and his maroon eyes are too, that same beautiful smile lifting his lips again as he gently holds you, his large hands sprawling over your waist, his eyes never leaving yours.
You chuckle, telling him in what you wanted to be a joking voice but which comes out all breathy,
"Maybe I like being all cozy with the 6'3" guy who is always warm, even on this freezing ice rink."
God, I sound like an idiot!
You bite your lip, fearing you will say more, and end up accidentally telling Sukuna how much you want him to be more than just your fuckbuddy. A nervous laugh escapes your mouth, and you feel your face get hot, but Sukuna grins that irresistible boyish grin at you, looking very smug.
"Then you're really a lucky girl because I plan to keep you warm all night, princess. Come on, I'll show you something."
Sukuna turns you around so you are in front of him and steers you slowly back to the bench, his strong hands resting securely on your hips, holding you, guiding you, every touch of his strong fingers sending the butterflies in your stomach fluttering like crazy.
Sukuna helps you exit the rink, his tall, firm body pressing against your back as he just lifts you off the ice so your feet are dangling a few inches above the ground and carries you to the bench while you giggle and smile.
Sukuna places you on the bench, not seeming to be out of breath at all from carrying you. But he eyes you for a moment with a strange look on his face, almost looking nervous, you think. He blinks and runs a large tattooed hand through his pink hair, averting his gaze and instead getting busy rummaging around in his hockey bag.
You watch him curiously, only to make an "Oooh!" sound when you see the surprise he prepared. Several boxes of his famous homemade snacks, two large thermal mugs, and a warm blanket. The last item Sukuna pulls out of his bag is a glass jar with a candle in it, which he lights and places on the bench one row before you, engulfing your little picnic space in soft, warm candlelight.
Your stomach is doing summersaults by now. All of this is so romantic! It makes you feel completely light-headed with all the thoughts running through your mind. This is what Sukuna planned when he asked you to meet him here at ten in the night? This doesn't feel like a regular ice skating lesson. It feels like a date!
You watch him carefully, feeling a bit shy as the implications of what this could mean fill your chest with giddy hope.
Sukuna grins at you and wraps the warm blanket around you, making things even cozier. And you smile and lean against Sukuna's broad shoulder, thanking him softly when he hands you a thermal mug with steaming hot coffee and a homemade muffin (the ones you told him a few weeks ago are your favorite).
You lift the blanket, telling Sukuna to join you so he stays warm, too. You both sip on your coffee and munch on the muffins, easily slipping into your usual camaraderie, joking around with each other and talking about your day. Sukuna brushes some muffin crumbs off your lips and tells you about his upcoming game and the current topic of his history research. And you lean comfortably against him, smiling when Sukuna wraps his arm around you while you tell him about the book you started reading this morning and the passive-aggressive insults your creative writing professor threw at people today.
You chuckle and sigh softly,
"Thank you for bringing me here. This is the first time today that I haven't felt anxious about my classes and my future."
And Sukuna smirks that hellishly attractive boyish smirk at you,
"Well, I'm glad that I'm providing you the same stress relief that you give me before my games. Look at us being the antidote for each other's stressful lives. We should drink to that."
You both laugh and hold up your thermal cups, clinking them gently, both grinning as you bring the cups to your lips and sip the warm coffee.
You stay like that for a while, leaning against each other under the warm blanket, sitting in comfortable silence while you gaze over the dimly lit ice rink before you. It feels magical.
Your heart is almost beating out of its chest, filled with such yearning that you think you will go insane if you don't do something about it. You slowly turn your head to gaze at Sukuna. Only to realize he is already looking at you. Your breath catches in your throat when your eyes meet his.
You think you can see fear in those beautiful maroon eyes. And you wonder if Sukuna feels the same fear that you feel. The fear of messing this up. The fear of losing what the two of you have. Maybe you aren't the only one who is scared of your feelings.
And yet you are here, just the two of you, in this romantic atmosphere. Not putting distance between you, but spending even more time together. Not running away from your feelings but running, or rather ice skating towards them hand in hand. Your heart flutters hopefully, just when Sukuna's low, velvety voice breaks the silence,
"I always enjoy being with you, no matter what we do. Whether we are talking about hockey or books or studying in the library, or having lunch together, or just talking shit while watching videos on my phone. I have never felt so close to someone before."
You gasp softly at the unexpectedly tender words. Tears well up in your eyes as you look up into Sukuna's eyes,
"I feel the same way. It's like I have always known you."
Sukuna smiles softly. He cups your face, his warm palm resting gently on the side of your neck while his thumb slowly caresses your cheek. A touch so tender as if he is scared to break you or disturb this soft atmosphere while he gazes deeply into your eyes.
You don't think anyone has ever been so gentle with you or looked at you that way. And out of all the people, it is him, it is Sukuna, the rough hockey player, the campus bad boy, who treats you with such gentleness.
"S... Sukuna."
Your voice is thick with unshed tears, but Sukuna shakes his head gently, low voice barely a whisper, raspy but full of tenderness when he says,
"No, let me say something, princess."
You nod, blinking to chase the tears away, and Sukuna continues in his velvety, low voice, his eyes gazing deeply into yours,
"I told you that ice hockey is my life. But that's only half the truth. Lately, you have become my life, too."
He gulps, making his adam's apple bop, and then adds in a soft but sure voice,
"I have never felt this way about someone before, and it scared me shitless when I realized what was happening. So I tried to suppress it. But I don't want to run from this anymore. I don't want to run from you when you are what makes me happy, and then I feel like I can't breathe when I imagine there could be a time when you aren't by my side. I didn't bring you here tonight to teach you ice skating. I brought you here to tell you I fell in love with you."
The whole world seems to stop. Everything around you disappears, and there is only Sukuna and you. Only the boy you love, and you. And everything is so perfect and easy.
Your tears finally spill over and slowly run down your face as you reach out to cup Sukuna's cheeks, too, caressing the tattooed lines on his high cheekbones as you smile at him, finally confessing how you feel about him,
"I'm in love with you, too. And it scared me also. I tried to pretend I didn't like you that way, but then you got injured, and it freaked me out so much, and after that, I couldn't lie to myself anymore. I knew you meant a lot more to me than I had planned. But I didn't want to lose you if you didn't feel the same. So I didn't say anything. I told myself it would be better to have you as a friend with benefits than not having you in my life at all..."
"Come here, princess."
Sukuna wraps his arms around you, pulls you into his lap, and hugs you tightly to him, his lips brushing a tender kiss to your forehead,
"I've never been in a relationship before, but I will work my ass off for this. I want this to work. I want you and me."
For once, there is no teasing smirk on his beautiful face. It's rare to see Sukuna like this, all open and honest with you, not hiding behind a mask. His maroon eyes are earnest, burning with the same fiery ambition he has when it comes to hockey and his studies. It makes your heart throb, seeing how invested he is. Seeing how much he wants to have this with you.
You wrap your arms around Sukuna's neck and lean closer to him,
"That's what I want, too. You and me."
A soft smile plays around Sukuna's lips before he closes the last remaining distance between you and claims your lips in a slow kiss.
You sigh, melting into the kiss and into Sukuna's arms. He takes his time, kissing you slow and deep, making your head spin and the butterflies in your tummy go crazy with each tender flick of his tongue.
It feels like an eternity until both of you pull away, breathing heavily, lips swollen from all the kissing, eyes so soft as you look at each other, both wearing the same perplexed expression as if you both can't believe this is really happening.
You smile at Sukuna so broadly that your cheeks hurt, and he laughs that soft, low laugh and smiles at you, too, brushing a thumb over your grinning cheeks before he puts his hands on your waist and lifts you off his lap, gently placing you on the floor so he can get up, too.
He holds out his hand to you, raising an eyebrow and grinning that sexy boyish grin at you,
"Join me for another round across the rink, princess?"
You nod and take Sukuna's hand, letting him pull you to your feet and against his tall, strong body. You place a hand on his chest, getting on your tiptoes to steal another kiss before Sukuna leads you carefully back onto the ice.
It's different this time. Not so much an ice skating lesson, where Sukuna lets you get a feel for the ice, but rather Sukuna taking the lead, pulling you with him, holding you safely in his embrace, skating across the dimly-lit rink much faster and more graceful than you could ever hope to do on your own.
It's not ice skating, but rather dancing, you realize. One of Sukuna's arms is wrapped safely around your waist, his other hand holding yours, his long tattooed fingers interlaced with yours, as he spins you around on the ice as if you are the Ice King and his Queen, and the hockey arena is your ballroom.
It feels incredible. As if you are weightless and flying across a glittery ice floor surrounded by soft light. You tilt your head back to look up at Sukuna's tattooed face, your gaze meeting his, and you see the smile in his eyes. It's only you and Sukuna. Only you and the boy you love and who loves you, too. Dancing in the nightly hockey arena. Sharing that magical moment in the place that is so important to Sukuna.
You let him spin you around without any fear, trusting him completely, knowing Sukuna will never let you fall. He already proved that the first time you met. He will never let you hit the ground. Those strong arms will always catch you.
You feel more tears run down your cheeks as you look up at Sukuna and smile at him, and he watches you enrapt, his cocky smirk replaced by a soft, wonderous expression.
"Why are you crying, princess?"
"Because I'm happy, baby."
You see how Sukuna's eyes widen at the use of the petname, and then his lips lift in a very happy and amused lopsided smirk,
"Baby? Hmm, I like it when you call me that. Make sure to do it very often from now on."
You chuckle softly as you nod,
"Sure, baby."
A second later, you squeal loudly because Sukuna makes another dance move, dipping you down while smirking his sexy, playful smirk at you. Your squeal turns into loud, breathless laughter that gets muffled by Sukuna's warm lips a second later. And he keeps kissing you, even while continuing to glide gracefully over the ice, not even needing to see anything.
You spend the whole night in the arena, just the two of you, alternating between dancing on the ice while laughing and kissing and sitting on the bench, cuddling under the warm blanket to keep warm while sipping coffee, talking about everything and nothing, joking around teasingly and stealing more kisses. Slow, deep French kisses that make both of you sigh softly into each other's mouth.
You sneak out of the hockey arena with the first hints of the approaching sunrise, walking to Sukuna's dorm while holding hands. You fall exhausted but happy into his bed. Your face comes to rest on Sukuna's buff pecs, your lips smiling against his tattooed skin as he wraps his strong arms around you and hugs you close to his warm, muscular body.
It's perfect. It feels so natural as if Sukuna and you have always been together as if it was always clear that things would lead to this, from the very first meeting in the hallway where you crashed into him, and his hockey reflexes and strong arms saved you from falling, only for both of you to end up falling in a different way. For each other.
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THE LOVE CONFESSION 😭💗💗 I am so emotional! This is one of the first scenes I wrote for this AU, and for months, I have been daydreaming about dancing across the rink with Sukuna. Sighhhhhh I hope you liked it, too, and could feel the same magic I felt while writing it!
Also, please listen to the song "Black Coffee" by Nightly. It's the song that I imagine during the scenes in the hockey arena. It's a perfect song to describe Sukuna's and Reader's connection. I love them so much together.
Thank you so much to everyone who is still here reading this story and waiting for updates! It means so much to me that you are on this journey with Sukuna and me 💗💗
I hope the love confession could put a smile on your face!! Comments and reblogs would be very sweet.
In the next chapter, we will see Sukuna and Reader officially dating and making their relationship public. Learning how to move from fuckbuddies to being boyfriend and girlfriend.
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