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rebelfell · 7 months

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so right, it's wrong

continued from x

where its halloween and eddie feels guilty for hooking up with his best friend's ex...except are you still his ex? 18+, MDNI

“Stupid. This is stupid. This is so, so stupid.”

Eddie mutters to himself as he skulks up the driveway towards the front of Steve’s house. His costume was hot and itchy on his skin, the pants suddenly feeling too tight and his shirt and vest threatening to choke him despite their looseness on his frame. The fencing sword tied to his hip poked him with every step and his boots were more like cement blocks he was dragging to the threshold as he rang the bell.

The idea to dress as characters from The Princess Bride had been in the works for ages—ever since Steve heard about the contest KQRX was throwing, offering free concert tickets for a whole year as the prize. Originally, it was going to be all three of you, but that was before the break-up, before Tina’s party…before Eddie considered selling his soul for another night with you.

It felt wrong even going through with all this, considering how involved you’d been.

It was you who helped Eddie scour seemingly endless thrift shops for the perfect pieces of his outfit while he was pinching the inside of his arm to stop himself thinking about dragging you into one of the dressing rooms and kissing every inch of your body. And it was you who watched as he and Steve practiced their “sword fight” out by the Harrington’s pool—looking debilitatingly, unfairly, cute wrapped up in a flannel, correcting Steve when he botched his lines and making a pink blush dance across Eddie’s cheeks when you praised his delivery.

Steve was convinced there was still a good chance of winning even with just the two of them, and Eddie didn’t have it in him to protest. He was still trying to figure out how he was going to look his friend in the eye after what happened.

You and Eddie hadn’t spoken since Friday night.

There had been tons of parties all weekend, as was typical whenever Halloween fell on a Tuesday. He probably could have found you if he’d had the balls to go looking. He knew well how keen you were to dress up at any and every opportunity for your favorite holiday.

And he wanted to call you, he really did. He must have dialed all but the last digit of your number about a hundred times since that night.

It was driving Wayne up the wall.

“Boy, if you ain’t gonna dial that phone, stop gettin’ its hopes up. If you don’t leave it alone, I’m gon’ knock you upside the head with it.”

But if he did call, what was he supposed to say? Hey! Thanks for sucking out the very essence of my soul through my cock? How about I return the favor sometime? Sound good?

Yeah, sure. That would go over great.

So instead, he’d hidden in his room. He’d worked on campaigns for Hellfire in between his pacing in front of the phone. And instead of going to your friend Ella’s party Sunday night, knowing how likely it was you’d be there, he’d gone over to Gareth’s for a slasher movie marathon.

Nothing like senseless bloodshed and gore to kill a perpetual boner. Not that it did.

Even hours of b-tier horror couldn’t stop him from thinking about you. The whole night kept playing on a loop in his mind. The way you straddled his lap and moaned into his mouth as he grasped at your hips to grind you against him. The way your mouth fell open in a wanton gasp as he kissed his way down your neck. The way you slinked to the floor and released him from his boxers that were stretched to their absolute limit. The look in your eyes as you spoke, low and sultry.

“I know you want me, Eddie,” you’d cooed at him, teasingly kissing at his weeping, sensitive tip until his head was thrown back and his eyes rolled back into his skull. “Show me how much.”

“Is that seriously the best you could do, Munson? Come on!”

Steve’s voice rings out harshly the second he opens the door, jerking Eddie out of his trance.

He huffs at the sight of Eddie’s mustache, or rather lack thereof, placing his hands on cocked hips. He makes an annoyingly good Dread Pirate Roberts in a billowing black shirt with a deep v-neck that reveals a patch of his dense chest hair. His black pants are tight, showing off muscled thighs and he’s already got his mask wrapped around his head, his own sword in hand.

“Not all of us are part werewolf, Steven.” Eddie snipes as he stalks through the door and pushes past his friend, guilty eyes averting.

“Whatever, maybe we can fill it in or something. Oh, honey! Perfect timing!”

Honey?

Eddie’s head whips around to see you floating down the staircase, the swishing of your skirt around your legs halting as Steve holds out his hand and tugs you into him.

“Shit, babe, you look hot,” Steve says, planting a wet kiss on your cheek that made you smile and caused Eddie’s stomach to lurch.

“Hot” didn’t even begin to describe you tonight. You looked…like a princess.

There was no other word for it. His heart was hammering behind his rib cage as his eyes roved over you, eager to take in every detail he could. Your dress was almost exactly like the one from the movie and even with the big sleeves and a long, flowing skirt, it failed to conceal the shape of your body underneath. It hinted at the curves there, teasing Eddie with the memory of them. Was it really just a few days ago his hands had roamed so freely all over you? Had feasted on the dip of your waist and the fullness of your hips?

You peer at Eddie curiously, subtly stepping back from Steve as you’re tucking a piece of your long wig behind your ear. “You look nice,” you say.

“Except the obvious,” Steve sighs. “Can you do something about his mustache?”

“Yeah, sure,” you breathe, your eyes never leaving Eddie’s, your head tipping towards the bathroom. “Come in here where the light is better.”

With a gulp and a nod, he follows you while Steve heads for the kitchen to make another drink, and probably check his own reflection on the way.

Eddie is dead silent as he leans on the sink in the half-bath off the foyer. He clutches at the edge of the countertop, sweaty palms threatening to slip out from beneath him at any second. With any luck, maybe he’ll hit his head on the porcelain and the concussion will get him out of this.

You’re quiet too as you root around inside a small pouch filled with your make-up until you exhume a brown eyeliner pencil. You place your fingertips gently on his chin, holding his face steady as you color in his upper lip with short, soft strokes. The feather-light touch and the way your eyes focus so intently on him makes Eddie’s heart race and he feels certain you can see it’s about to beat straight out of his chest.

“You okay?” you whisper. “You’re shaking.”

Eddie nods, neck stiff and his body rigid with you standing so close to him. He swallows thickly, his throat clenching with the question he’s dreading. But he has to ask. He has to know.

“So, you guys are—are you, like…back together?”

“I don’t know yet,” you say, your voice small. “Maybe. We’ve been talking about it.”

“Since when?” he asks, and the sound comes out harsher than he meant. Your eyes flicker, the light from the sconce over the mirror shining in them.

“Sunday night. We ran into each other at Ella’s party.”

Fucking shit. Of course you did.

“I thought I might hear from you,” you add quietly. “Or maybe see you, but…”

You lick your lips, glancing away from him as you cap your eyeliner and tuck it back inside your bag. Your tongue wets the gloss you’re wearing and makes it look even shinier. Fuck, he wants to know how you taste tonight, what flavor it is that’s on your mouth.

“I…I…”

Eddie’s mind swims with all the words he wants to say, but they get snagged, unable to come out. Because what exactly is he supposed to say when all he can think about is pinning you against that door, hiking up your dress and filling your hot, slick core with his fingers or his tongue or his cock until you’re screaming his name loud enough for the entire town to hear?

Except that’s never gonna happen. Because he’s not Westley. He’s not the hero here. You’re not his heroine and you never will be. There’s no version of the movie that ends with Inigo and Buttercup riding off into the sunset together.

“It’s fine, Eddie. I get it,” you say softly. “We can forget it ever happened.”

Eddie sighs, the heft of his frustration punching it out of his chest. If that’s what you want, of course he’ll do it. He’s been pretending not to be in love with you for a long time already.

No sense breaking the streak now.

You lean around him to collect your bag from the sink and the smell of your perfume is like a punch straight to his gut. He takes one last deep breath of you as you zip your bag shut and reach for the knob on the door.

It creaks as you crack it open and you pause, chancing a glance back at him. "You really do look handsome," you tell him.

And then you leave. You head for the kitchen and go back to your boyfriend who's waiting for you. Back to the only version of this movie there is.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fic #eddie munson angst #eddie munson stranger things

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aaabsinthe · 1 year

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Hi!! Can I request crushing and relationship headcanons for Junkerqueen with a fem s/o? Like how would she realize she likes them? thank you! :)

Junker Queen x Female Reader Relationship Headcanons

A/N: It's been a while y'all - boy am I glad to be back. Literally right after I posted my note about all of the stuff I'm working on, I got slammed with the biggest assessment I've had in my course so far (17 documents total once I'd finally finished it) and caught scarlet fever of all thing so it's taken a good while for me to finally feel well enough and have spare time to write - but here we are!

I'm so excited to write for my favourite built queen - this gif alone is makin me feel things. I'm going to format all of these the same way from now on with SFW and NSFW headcanons from now on. Ofc there will be warning for the NSFW section :)

I hope you enjoy anon despite the wait!

-Nat

SFW Headcanons

Odessa is the kind of gal that isn't really impressed by appearances.

Sure, she has her preferences and finds certain things attractive, but that isn't what piques her interest.

For Dez, it's all about personality, especially if you're the kind of person who is merciful and gentle with others.

This doesn't mean you have to be a doormat, in fact if you stand up for yourself (physically or verbally) when you feel as if you are being treated unfairly or others are being treated unfairly, that's possibly the hottest thing you could ever do in her eyes.

It's just something about the Peter Pan types that really captivates her. Not just in stealing from the rich and giving to the poor, but in being self aware of your strengths and using them to do right by those who are not in the same position of privilege.

This is how she figures out that her little crush on you was not just a little crush anymore.

She overheard you and another agent talking about life before the crisis, and found out that you used to do volunteer work every weekend delivering essentials to the homeless in your city and how much you missed your community outreach.

That and she watched you sock a guy in the face after he attempted to grope your friend at a bar.

It's healing for her and her inner child and she finds herself looking up to you as a role model - she's aware she's no angel and has done many questionable things to survive out there in the wasteland.

However she hopes that now as a part of Overwatch, she can be better and similarly to you, that she can use her position to help others less fortunate.

Dez is fine with casual or short term relationships and has had plenty in her time, she doesn't necessarily need to know someone to be attracted to them - but when she built that emotional connection with you, that's when she knew she was in for the long run.

The best part about dating Dez is that she isn't embarrassed easily - she's very open from the beginning which means conversation flows naturally with her. The downside of this is that for the first few months of being together, getting to sleep was nearly impossible, three am deep conversations just hit different.

This also means if you ever need anything, she is more than happy to accommodate.

Sick? She keeps note of the medication you need and when you need to take it so she can make sure you take it (and bring you water in your comfort water bottle to boot). That time of the month? If somehow the stash of your preferred products are out, she knows what you use - she will get you more without you even needing to ask (she will however check if you crave anything in particular on the way out).

Expect to be doing the same for her when she gets sick - she becomes the biggest needy baby when she's not feeling well.

She's stuck in bed? Yep. So are you.

Not even by choice either, she cages you with her arms and well that's that. There's no fighting this goliath of a woman.

Loves her cuddles - all positions.

Her favourite is being the little spoon though. It's not often that she gets to feel protected and cocooned (can you really blame her).

Loves PDA - particularly keeping an arm around your waist or you attached to her arm at all times, though she's known to do a casual steamy kiss in public when she's feeling particularly jealous.

If you're not one for PDA, she respects that boundary... However she will pout at you with those big red puppy dog eyes.

Absolutely hopeless at cooking and baking though not for lack of trying. Wakes you up regularly cursing about burning her toast.

Of course it's not all sunshine and rainbows.

Speaking of waking you up, Dez has nightmares somewhat regularly.

She's always so thankful to have you there to vent to if she needs it and cuddle with until she's calm enough to fall back asleep.

NSFW CONTENT WARNING

NSFW Headcanons (18+)

Sex to Odessa is powerplay, a safe space to be strong and vulnerable all in one.

Hard dom top - that control means everything to her.

This woman loves a good scrap (duh), if you choose to be a bratty sub, she eats that shit up.

Go ahead, try and buck her off of you, she's not even using half her strength. She can hold you down much harder.

Expect to be begging for mercy.

The two of you develop a safe word very early on in your relationship, Odessa would never forgive herself if she pushed you past your limit.

Definitely has and regularly uses an appropriately sized strap (ouch).

Dez has her kinks. Sex between the two of you is rarely vanilla unless other feelings are involved. She's entuned to what you need and your emotions, she knows when you need the gentler and less complicated sex or when you honestly just need someone to hold you.

That being said, she has a reasonably high sex drive. She can manage on her own if you can't or don't feel like it, but say the words and honestly she's ready when you are.

Though she really would prefer you called her Dez, Odessa, babe - really anything other than her title outside of the bedroom, call her your queen between the sheets - she'll go berserk.

Dabbles in pain play, something of an every now and then addition to the bedroom, it's not something she needs and the both of you really have to be in the mood for the more intensive side of sex. She does however love to see you take Gracie's hilt in every hole.

Unless you'd consider overstimulation a form of pain play. There is nothing she loves more than watching you struggle and beg with tears leaking from your eyes, completely at her mercy.

Light bondage when she doesn't feel like physically restraining you herself.

Claims your face as her throne whenever the mood strikes.

Speaking of claiming, your neck, collarbone and tits are never safe from her demanding mouth.

There aren't really many kinks that Dez would feel uncomfortable with, she would try pretty much anything before she knocks it.

Definite no though - I feel like she'd laugh at ironically calling her 'mommy'/'mummy', especially if you have a different accent, but considering her complicated family past, it just hits a little too close to home to take it seriously especially during sex.

Obviously amazing at foreplay, she knows what she likes which makes it so much easier from the start (not to mention her cheekily buying vibrating piercings just to mess with you) but honestly the best part is that she's enjoying herself just as much as you.

It's all give and take with Dez, you give as much as you get.

#overwatch #overwatch headcanon #overwatch x reader #overwatch imagines #Junker Queen #Junker Queen x Reader #Junker Queen x reader smut #smut #overwatch x reader smut

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junkissed · 1 year

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mistletoe inn

member — inn owner!seungcheol x reader genre — fluff word count — 1.2k warnings — none! notes — requested by anon — for my winter wonderland event: seuncheol + "mistletoe inn"

read part 2 here - minors dni

"last stop, the mistletoe inn!"

you step off the bus with your luggage and sigh, pulling out your phone to check your messages.

as a surprise, you’d decided to spend your winter vacation with your parents– the only problem was, they’d decided to spend their winter vacation in hawaii, leaving you alone in their quiet mountain town with no place to stay and no way to get back until your flight home next weekend.

it’s been years since you’ve been home for the holidays, so you’d planned on staying with them and having a nice, quiet week at your parent’s house. but with them out of the state and you with no way to get in, you’re forced to find a hotel to stay at for the next week.

but in a town as small and rural as theirs, there are no major hotels; just small, family-owned bed and breakfasts, squished between cafes and family restaurants.

after calling your mom for recommendations, you finally settle on mistletoe inn, a cute little place at the edge of town that’s been in the choi family for generations.

stepping inside, you smile at how well the inn lives up to its name. a sprig of mistletoe hangs from the doorway, and the front desk is decorated in floral green and red.

“be right with you!” a voice calls from the other room, and you peer across the hallway to see a man in a brown cardigan putting a stack of books on a shelf. the room is a small library, complete with floor to ceiling bookshelves and tall stained glass windows that cast colorful patterns across the area rug on the floor.

you stand in the entryway, shifting back and forth on your feet as you wait for him to finish.

“i’m seungcheol,” the man says with a smile, finally coming into the room and walking behind the desk. “what can i do for you?”

“do you have any rooms? for the next week?”

he grins. “sure do! you prefer upstairs or downstairs?” he says, flipping open a large, leather bound book.

“um, downstairs is fine,” you reply.

he asks a few more questions about your stay, and you answer them politely, trying to avoid staring at him as much as you can. he’s unfairly attractive, to say the very least; fluffy brown hair hangs around his eyes, and crinkle lines appear when he smiles.

he moves back around to the other side of the counter to grab your bags and take them to your room for you. you follow him down the hall, taking in the decorations and paintings hanging on the walls. you pause in front of what looks like a family photo, looking at a dozen tiny smiling faces, no older than teenagers.

"is this your family?" you ask, pointing.

seungcheol laughs. "kind of. they’re just my buddies, but they're like family to me."

"who owns the inn, then?"

he pauses to think. "well, technically i do. it's really my grandma’s, though; it was her dream to own a bed and breakfast. my mom took it over, and when she moved it got passed down to me.”

you nod and continue following him down the hall until he stops in front of a door. “this is you,” he says, twisting the doorknob to reveal a gorgeous, cozy-looking room. “breakfast is at 8. let me know if you have any questions.”

you watch him enter the room, hoisting your bags onto the chair with ease, muscles clearly bulging through his thin cardigan that you pretend not to notice.

screw it, you’re only here for a week. maybe now is finally your chance to have a holiday romance.

he’s just about to leave when you call out his name. “hey, seungcheol? i, um… i actually do have a question.”

he turns back and looks at you, shoving his hands in his pockets as he waits for your question.

you shuffle your feet awkwardly, mentally building up the courage to ask him. “do you know any good cafes around here?”

he smiles. “yeah! there’s a little one down on fourth street that has a really great breakfast menu. and they have good coffee, too.”

“would you wanna go with me, maybe, like, tomorrow?” you ask. “if you’re not busy.”

he grins. maybe you’re imagining it, but you almost see his cheeks turn a little pinker. “tomorrow’s great!” he says.

he starts to walk away again, but at the last second he pauses and turns around. “i’m upstairs in room 13,” he adds. “if you… y’know, happen to find yourself in need of company.”

you feel your face heat, and you pray you aren’t misreading his intentions. “i’ll do that,” you answer with a smile.

he grins and shuts the door, leaving you alone to squeal in your room. maybe this disaster of a trip won’t be such a bad thing after all.

when you wake up, you’re surprised to see it’s still snowing- heavily. you call your parents to say good morning, then begin getting ready for the day.

a little while later you hear a knock on your door, and you get up to see who it is. opening the door reveals seungcheol, standing outside, scratching the back of his neck.

“hey, good morning!” you greet him, grinning.

“hey,” he says. “sorry it’s so early, but i needed to tell you something.”

“don’t worry, i was already up,” you giggle. “did something happen?” you ask, wondering why he’d be at your door barely past 8 in the morning.

he looks at his feet. “um, yeah,” he says. “the snow was really bad last night, and the whole town is snowed in. so we won’t be able to leave the inn today.”

“we’re… snowed in?”

“yeah,” he says apologetically. “i’m sorry if you had plans that got ruined.”

it’s disappointing, sure, but coming from the weather you’re used to at home, where it hasn’t snowed in decades, the thought of being snowed in is kind of exciting.

you smile. “actually, i don’t have any plans at all while i’m here, besides getting breakfast with you. but i’m fine if you wanna do something else today instead. if-if you’re not busy, that is.”

his face brightens. “i’m not working today, so… we could, cook something, if you want? i could show you some of my grandma’s christmas recipes.”

“we could have a picnic in my room, maybe?” you suggest.

“yeah, that would be nice,” he says, grinning. “sorry for bugging you so early on your first day, by the way. i swear we’re really nice to our guests here.”

you laugh. “i believe you. and it’s fine. i… like talking to you,” you admit shyly. even though you’ve known him for less than twenty four hours, you already get the feeling that he’s fun to talk to, and the more time you spend talking to him, the more you find yourself wanting to spend your entire trip with him.

your plans may have changed because of the weather, but you don’t doubt your trip will still be one of your best memories yet.

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kaiijo · 2 years

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first dates with the vice housewardens

characters: trey, ruggie, jade, jamil, rook, lilia notes: gn! reader, omits ignihyde other first dates: housewardens

trey clover

You were the one to plan the first date, and you chose roller skating. You hadn’t gone to the rink since you were a kid, but it couldn’t be that hard to relearn skating, right?

Wrong.

Trey laughed as you stumbled, surging forward to grab you quickly. “Stop it,” you whined. His laughter continued as he took your hands in his and skated backwards, guiding you carefully.

“How’re you so good at this?” you asked.

“Have to find a way to occupy my younger siblings when our parents want us all out of the house.” He let go of your hands slowly and just when you thought you got the hang of it, you fell again.

“Ow…”

“Don’t worry,” Trey said. “Practice makes perfect. We can come here again.”

“Trey Clover, are you asking me on a second date when we haven’t even finished our first date?”

He smiled broadly, looking unfairly handsome against the dark background of the roller rink. “Yeah, I am.”

ruggie bucchi

You and Ruggie stretched out on the grass, staring up at the sky. Fireflies danced around you, and you let one land on your fingertip. “Make a wish,” you said, bring it closer to Ruggie.

He raised an eyebrow at you questioningly at you but complied, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath before blowing lightly on the bug. It flitted away and you watched Ruggie as he opened his eyes. “What did you wish for?”

“Can’t say,” he said with a cheeky smirk, “otherwise it won’t come true, remember.”

“Boo,” you said, laying back down again. You two settled into a comfortable silence as you gaze up at the stars. You pointed at one. “That’s Ursa Major.”

Ruggie nudged you. “Leo,” he murmured, pointing just south. He wiggled closer to you and tapped your shoulder. You turned onto your side to face him and he held a firefly in front of your face. “Make a wish.”

I wish we could stay like this forever. You blew on the firefly.

jade leech

“Jade, look!” you said, grabbing his arm and stopping your hike. You rush over to the side of the trail, where a blue lily sprouts. “These are glow lilies,” you told him. “They’re native to my hometown, I can’t believe there’s one here.”

Jade crouched down beside you, staring at the plant. As evening settled in, the lily lit up, casting a blue glow on your faces. He said, “You seem to like it a lot.”

“It’s my favorite flower since it reminds me of home.”

Jade nodded, admiring the shadows cast on your face before turning back to the flower. “I’ll order some seeds,” he said, “to plant in the botanical gardens.”

“Really? You’d do that?”

“It’s your favorite, isn’t it? If we had them on campus, then I could give them to you all the time.”

jamil viper

Your first date with Jamil was actually at the Asim family’s house. You two had been trying to plan a date for a while but Jamil was always busy, and you didn’t exactly have a relaxing existence as a Night Raven College student. You had let this slip to Kalim accidentally, and he felt awful about it (especially since he was the one who usually called Jamil away) so he invited you to come home with them on the long weekend with the promise of some uninterrupted time with Jamil.

Kalim ushered you into their screening room, which was a verifiable movie theater in their home. You honestly didn’t know how Kalim did it but you perked up when Jamil came in a few minutes later, snacks in hand. He settled in next to you, your knees brushing together, and he asked, “Have you picked out something?”

“This one looks good,” you said, lifting the remote and pressing on one.

Jamil raised an eyebrow at you. “That’s a classic Scalding Sands horror movie… you sure you’re up for that?”

“Yeah!” you said. “I’m braver than you think. Plus, if I get scared, I know you’ll be there to hold me.”

Jamil snorted but you didn’t miss the blush on his cheeks or the way he pressed a little closer to you.

rook hunt

“Wow,” Rook said breathlessly, staring at the painting in front of the two of you. “Look at this, mon cheri! Look at how the artist uses the lights and shadows to draw focus to the figure at the top left corner, and then utilizes those clean lines to take your eye around the whole piece! C’est magnifique!”

You hardly understood what Rook was saying, but you admired his passion and enthusiasm as well as the way his eyes sparkled as he spewed out artistic jargon left and right. The art museum had been his idea, and you had gladly gone along. You liked art but not really beyond just thinking it was pretty. Rook, on the other hand, as you’ve seen, was an art connoisseur — yet another talent to add to Rook’s eclectic collection.

“And this!” He motioned with his free hand (the other was occupied holding yours) to the sculpture beside the painting. “A continuation of the painting, yet separate as well. How beautiful!”

He lifted your joined hands to his heart and then pressed a soft kiss to the back of yours. “Of course,” he added with a wink, “the loveliest piece of artwork is right here with me.”

Your face burned but your mouth split into a bashful smile, and Rook just chuckled, pressing another gentle peck to your warm face. “So bold one minute, so shy the next,” he said. “You’re just full of spectacular surprises.”

lilia vanrouge

When Lilia proposed that your first date be at a rock concert, you couldn’t say that you weren’t surprised. Lilia never struck you as a big music lover, and if he did, you would have guessed he’d be into classical.

The red and yellow filters over the lights cast a sunset orange hue over the crowd, illuminating Lilia’s face in the same shade. Combined with his pale skin, he looked almost golden. Grabbing your hand, Lilia spun you in a tight circle and into his body. He leaned in close and sang the lyrics to the song being performed, pulling back with a wide, bright grin.

You were a never a big fan of crowds — especially ones like this — but there you were, in a crowd of other concertgoers jumping and dancing and shouting, with Lilia right beside you, doing the exact same thing.

You joined in on the dancing, hopping around and following Lilia’s lead, yelling the chorus. Maybe you didn’t mind crowds like these so much, especially with Lilia by your side.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #trey x reader #trey clover x reader #ruggie bucchi x reader #ruggie x reader #jade leech x reader #jade x reader #jamil viper x reader #jamil x reader #rook hunt x reader #rook x reader #lilia x reader #lilia vanrouge x reader #twisted wonderland imagines #twst imagines #twisted wonderland scenarios #twst scenarios #.𖥔 ݁ ˖ kaiijo writes

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taones · 1 year

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If You Can Hold On (3) - A.A, S.K, S.D

rewrite of the third part of the series (first and second parts here and here, original series on my masterlist) enjoy <3

pairing ~ poly asadaisuga x gn!reader

warnings ~ pining, angst, arguments, swearing, general stress tbh, my horrible attempt at writing purposefully cringe flirting, mildly suggestive, very brief editing and spellcheck so

You sniffed as you stirred, pulling the soft fabric underneath your cheek further into you. It smelt like sandalwood with a hint of coffee and you were instantly reminded of Daichi. The man’s coffee addiction had become serious during his final year. You supposed yours would too, if you were in charge of Hinata. His scent was a big reason why you enjoyed stealing Daichi’s clothes so much. Gripping the fabric in your fingers, the underneath was oddly warm. The further you returned to your sleepy state, the less you found yourself caring about the odd warmth of your cushion, or the slow rise and fall of it under your head.

“Still sleepy, huh?”

Jolting, you snapped your eyes open. A strong heat flooded under the skin of your cheeks, you shot up. An action that brought the blanket that was covering you tumbling down your form, settling at your waist and exposing not only your body, but Daichi’s. You had heard several times from his partners that the man likes forgoing shirts when he sleeps, but observing it was a whole other story. Usually, when you stayed around, he was up and dressed before any of you and you never saw him without a shirt. It soon became clear why this was a good thing. The man was laying in the bed, under where you just laid, dressed in nothing but pajama pants and an unzipped hoodie. Honey coloured skin peaked out from the gap between the zipper, a toned and yet perfectly soft stomach just begging for you to reach out and run your fingers down it.

Shuffling from the other side of the bed alerted you to the other two presences in the room. Asahi was sitting against the headboard, the other side of where you had evidently slept last night. His curly hair was piled on top of his head and he had those damn reading glasses on, the ones that made him look just as intelligent as you knew he was. He smiled closed mouthed, obviously bemused at your shock, and waved with the hand that was currently holding his book. Sugawara was curled under his arm, on the far side of the bed - still snoring, of course. Koushi was the sleepiest of all three of you. Hyper, undeniably, but once he was asleep, he was down for the count.

Asahi slid a hand onto the thigh that was closest to him. His hands were large and calloused against the soft skin of your exposed thigh. Why you decided to pack shorts was a mystery to you. Especially now as you flexed the muscles, trying desperately to not squirm and pay attention to what he was about to say.

“We were gonna grab some breakfast” he explained, in an unfairly attractive morning voice,

“We passed a diner last night, probably swinging back ‘round to that”

“Once sleeping beauty wakes up, that is”

You smiled, biting your lip in an attempt not to laugh. The three of you would have an easier time herding cats. Asahi’s hand slipped off of your thigh. You tried to suppress the shiver that ran up your spine and desperately ignored the way you missed his touch as soon as it left. Getting breakfast together was a routine you were all well versed in. You had all spent the majority of weekends before your exams meeting in a small cafe near your homes to get waffles together. Simpler times, you guessed. You knew each others orders like the back of your hands, and you always got fed portions of their individual orders no matter how many times you went. The contrast between each order was evident and matched perfectly with each of them.

“I’m up for waffles”

---

The diner was relatively busy when you got there. Of course, with Daichi’s team dad skills and Asahi’s somewhat intimidating stature, you had managed to secure a booth just fine. As tradition went, it was you and Asahi on one side, Daichi and Koushi on the other. Asahi trapped you against the wall with his broad shoulders, but you liked the security of it and this is something the others had very clearly noticed. You were almost 100% certain that the seating was done this way so you and Asahi wouldn’t comment on the obnoxious amount of chocolate and cream the other two piled onto their waffles.

Conversation flowed easily. You were too sleepy to even entertain the thought of your wallowing that morning, much rather preferring the simple reminiscing and idle chatter the boys filled the silence with. At one point you had said something that made Daichi laugh so hard that he had snorted his milkshake out of his nose. There was some hope that they didn’t notice the way you preened like a cat at getting the usually stoic man to laugh that hard. It was a beautiful noise, but his true laugh was rare. The dad-like chortle making way for wheezing towards the end of his laughing fits was enough to get even the most stone-faced of people to crack a smile.

You handed him a wad of napkins. He took them with both hands, lifting one to wipe his face and keeping the other firmly grasping yours. Your breath hitched.

Eventually, after the fifth time of Daichi wiping the wrong spot, Koushi grasped a few more napkins from your hands and wiped the remaining chocolate off of Daichi’s face. You held out another napkin for the silver-haired man's fingers, being met by his signature dazzling smile.

“What would we do without you, huh gorgeous?”

The bliss was interrupted by all of their phones pinging a notification simultaneously. Suga read the text and visibly grimaced. In an effort to protect yourself from the hurt, you cast your gaze towards the table. It was very obviously a group chat you were not on. The little bubble of joy you had experienced just moments prior popped sharply and it was if the room had dimmed under the morning sun. That was fine, they were allowed to be in chats without you, it wasn’t a big deal, it might not be their new addition, right? You repeated the question in your head like a mantra to calm yourself as you tapped on Asahi to let you out.

“I’m gonna order another drink” you mumbled, smiling brightly at the boys.

The last couple of seconds replayed in your head over and over, even while stammering out your drink order. It was slightly easier to hide your scorned feelings when you weren’t facing the cause. Your back was aimed towards the table of boys, even as you reached the coffee station and made a grab at a few paper packets of sugar.

The paper was flimsy in your hands, not aiding the clumsiness that was already plaguing you. The coffee was intended for Suga and the man liked his coffee in a very particular way. You counted out exactly two packets of white sugar, and one packet of brown sugar. E preferred the wooden stirrers, even when spoons were available, said they reached the sugar in the bottom of the cup easier. Of course, this was most likely complete nonsense but you couldn’t help but entertain the thought as you took yourself through the motions. You smiled gently at the routine and just how absurd it would look to anyone else. How were you supposed to explain the oddity that was Sugawara Koushi and his fantastical coffee routine?

A hand settled next to you on the coffee counter.

“That’s a lot of sugar for someone already so sweet looking”

Turning, you came face to face with a man a little bit taller than you, he had dark hair and a decently attractive smile. He was cute, sure. But he wasn’t quite as tall as Asahi, he didn’t have Daichi’s warm smell and his flirting was kind of wooden to anyone who was familiar with Koushi’s cheekier flirting. In your peripherals, you could see the inquisitive glances from your friends and you really couldn’t help yourself after that. Was it kind to lead someone on? Maybe not but you were tired of morality and interested to see how this would play out.

Giggling, you looked up at him through your lashes. Screw it, if you couldn’t have who you wanted, you were at least gonna have fun.

“Maybe I like sweet things, don’t judge” you mused, taking the wooden stirrer between your teeth.

The man leaned his other arm on the coffee counter, effectively trapping you against the cart. It was a move you assumed was meant to come across as sexy. However it just made you feel like you were a caged animal, cornered and ready to claw your way out of the situation. His hand retracted, holding more napkins than any one man could possibly need. The dark haired man shot you a wink and you forced out a smile in return, shooting a glance at your now empty table. The brilliant smile of the man in front of you began to fade, causing you to snap your head towards him.

“I’m so sorry, what was that?” you questioned politely, putting the clueless act on once again.

A throat was cleared next to you. There was really no denying how intimidating the boys were when they wanted to be. Daichi’s arms bulged from where they were crossed over his chest. It was a display that would usually make your mouth water, but only proved to further fuel your anxiety in the given moment. They weren’t scary to you of course, but the sharp glare Suga was sending the man as well as Asahi’s unimpressed look caused a flush of anxiety to run through you.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Suga hissed at the poor man, who was now looking about ready to run.

“Sorry” the man stuttered, “I didn’t realise they were taken, know when i'm not welcome”

He put his hands up in a mock surrender and turned to leave.

“Wait, no i’m not-” you started, but he was gone.

They had, not for the first time, rendered you speechless. Embarrassment curled in your gut, bubbling up into something more volatile when you saw the satisfied looks they sported, eyes following the man back to his table. Disbelief didn’t even begin to cover the cocktail of emotions that were currently mixing within you.

If you didn’t leave, you were going to lose your temper very quickly. Chest heaving, you recentred yourself and spun on your heel, pulling your wallet out.

The lady behind the counter looked only mildly intrigued at the odd display that had just occurred in front of her. She curled a perfectly manicured eyebrow at you as if to ask if you needed a hand. It filled you with a certain sense of irony, that this random woman was more concerned as to your feelings at that moment than your actual friends, who had known you for years. You stuttered out an apology and slammed some cash on the counter, probably harder than intended. Then you promptly turned and marched out of the diner.

The mad scramble behind you was ignored in your attempt to walk to the car without bursting into tears, punching something, or both. You heard the protests in the background but they were muffled by the buzzing of rage in your ears. Fists curling and uncurling, you tried to think back to the last time you had gotten this angry. You had been plenty angry in the past, school was a difficult time for everyone, but the three men you had left in the diner were usually the first ones to calm you down. This was one of the only times they were the cause of your wrath. Most likely, they would also be on the receiving end of said wrath soon enough.

Kicking the dust of the car park, you watched as stones and dirt scattered away from you. You wanted to scream, hit things, throw yourself in the dirt and cry - anything that would take some pressure off of the crushing weight in your torso. The flame twisted and gnashed at your insides, growling and clawing its way up your oesophagus until it released itself in a small scream of frustration. Would things ever be simple for you?

Telepathy had never been a skill you particularly craved until that moment. There was no way of understanding what those three idiots were thinking. Even if you did know, you were doubtful it would soothe your frustration. You threw yourself on the ground behind the trunk of the car, yanking your phone out of the pocket of your jeans.

“Kiyoko” you seethed down the phone, “will you please come and pick me up”

She gave you the affirmative and set the loose time limit to her arrival. No doubt Yachi would be with her. You weren’t sure whether you would be able to deal with their romance in your face at that moment, but anything was better than being stuck in a car with Asahi, Daichi and Sugawara.

Jangling alerted you to the three men in question. They had obviously paid and were frantically looking around the cars to locate you. With any luck a sinkhole would open in the earth and swallow you whole before they spotted you.

Luck was never your thing.

The sky had opened up once again. It was almost beginning to grate on your nerves how much it had been raining this trip. The irony had been entertaining in the beginning, bordering on humorous how cliche it was. Now the weather you usually took so much pleasure in indulging in was maddening. You wanted to be angry with them for once, yell even. But the rain was washing your frustration away, leaving an empty feeling. A feeling that made you want to give up.

Your prayers went unanswered, the three men walking up to you in due time.

“What was that?” you questioned, voice resigned.

“What do you mean? He was flirting with you”

The sound of genuine confusion in Asahi’s voice made your food feel like it was curdling inside of you. You breathed out in disbelief, brows knitting together tightly.

“And just what does that have to do with any of you?”

None of them replied, taken back by your outburst. You stood abruptly and continued.

“You’re all dating! You literally have two boyfriends and I know you’re talking to another person. So really” you paused, “why the fuck does it matter if i don’t want to be alone anymore? Do I not deserve to be wanted? You evidently don’t want me”

Your voice cracked towards the end of your rant. Three pairs of eyes stared at you in disbelief. The hints of hurt mixed into all three was evident, but you felt like a bottle that had been shaken and the lid was off. You erupted once again. there was nothing more that you wanted than to be loved on purpose. it was inexplicably unfair that even unconnected attempts at finding a relationship had to be ruined by the three men in front of you.

“God it hurts, can you not see that? It hurts so bad. You won’t ever understand how much it pains me to be around you and see just how happy this new person is going to make you, knowing that’s not me? That hurts” you spat the last sentences, vitriol coating your words.

The storming sea inside you had calmed somewhat, leaving you to assess the damage your words had done. It wasn’t the most ideal way to confess your feelings but the weight that was lifted off your shoulders felt tremendous. The pain you were feeling was paralysing, stopping you from running like you desperately wanted to. It knocked the wind out of you, reducing your last statement to a pathetic whisper.

“I get you don’t want me around, but other people will. It’s not okay to take that away from me”

As if some God had heard your plea, Kiyoko’s tiny blue car sped into the car park just as you broke down crying. The womans tiny blonde girlfriend sped out of the car, catching you before your knees could meet the wet sand beneath you. Yachi cooed at you softly, placing her entire body in front of you as if to form a shield between you and the cause of your heart ache. Her eyebrows furrowed in concern, eyes filling with sympathy at your curled up figure.

It was truly humiliating.

Kiyoki motioned for her to pull you into the car, stepping out of the driver's side herself and towards you. The dainty hands of the younger girl were soft and comforting, her rose scent filled your stuffy nose while she led your stumbling form to the welcome shelter of her girlfriend's car. The difference in posture between the two of you was like night and day. You were hunched over, protecting yourself from outside view. Your wounds were gaping, horrible open pits with your rawest emotions in the middle for everyone to gaze at and laugh. She wrapped a soft blanket around you, bandaging you up and keeping you safe in the backseat of the car.

There were muffled voices from the outside of the car, but the sound of the heater being cranked full blast muffled them. There was a lot of angry words, not quite yelling but scolding certainly. You whimpered at the noise, not being able to distinguish who it was. You were certain they would never want to see you again, let alone speak to you, after your outburst. If only there was a way to scoop all of your words off of the floor and shove them back down into your mouth. Daichi, Asahi and Sugawara had never been in love with you, you could deal with that fact. Them cutting ties completely would surely kill you.

A polaroid of Yachi and Kiyoko, perched on a wall and smiling at each other, was stuck to the centre of the car, directly above the stereo. It hung there, mocking you. You stared and tried not to think about how you would never be able to achieve that, not where it counted. In the end, it was easier to avert your gaze than confront what you couldn’t have.

Fuming, Kiyoko wrenched the door open and threw herself into the driver's seat. It was a miracle she managed to make even that look graceful. Her face was unnaturally contorted by an anger that was uncommon for her. It marred her beautiful features viciously. In staring at her, you caught sight of yourself in the mirror. It was a distressing look to say the least. Your hair was messy from your own grip and the bags under your eyes had only gotten worse. What little effort you had put into your looks this morning had all gone to waste, either washes away or dampened under the rain.

Yachi stroked her hand over your shoulder and climbed into the passenger's seat.

Staring out of the back window as the car pulled away, you caught sight of the three you had left behind. Koushi was patting Azumane’s back from where he crouched on the ground, dragging large hands across his face. Daichi was beside them, head buried in his arms on top of the car. You blinked. They had no right to be upset, you thought. You tried to block it all from your mind as their figures turned into tiny dots in the distance. All the years of friendship, the lives you had built together and the dreams you had created - they were buried in the dust where you left them.

me: says I'll post part three the next day, also me: takes a week to post it. I'm not sure when I'll get around to posting part 4 but hopefully I'll remember to actually post it

#asadaisuga #asadaisuga x reader #haikyuu imagine #daichi x reader #daichi sawamura x reader #asahi x reader #asahi azumane x reader #sugawara x reader #sugawara koushi x reader #haikyuu angst #haikyuu hurt/comfort #poly haikyuu

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sitp-recs · 10 months

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LCDrarry 2023 - Sitp Recs

I’m a thousand years late to the LCDrarry party as usual, but I’ve had some time to check it out over the weekend and thought I’d do a rec list anyway. Here are my favourites among fic and art works, definitely recommend checking the whole collection here. I hope you enjoy these as much as I did!

Fic:

🗺️ The Breakfast Club by @peachpety (T, 8k)

Draco Malfoy is forced to endure a Saturday detention with four other students, including the Golden Bad Boy himself, Harry Potter. Over the course of the day, and under the watchful eye of Filch, the seemingly disparate group form a budding alliance and discovers that they have a great deal more in common than they thought. And Draco discovers that sometimes, he can not only get what he needs, but he just might also get what he wants.

🪟 Peep Show by @kbrick (E, 10k)

To everyone’s surprise, Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy have become maybe-possibly-sort-of friends. When Harry moves into the building next to Draco's, they become neighbors, too. Actually, Harry can see directly into Draco's flat from his window. And as it turns out, Draco gets up to some interesting things at night.

💎 A Boesky, A Jim Brown, and the biggest Leon Spinks ever by tsundanire (T, 12k)

Harry and his group of friends formulate a rather ambitious plan to re-acquire a rare diamond from the clutches of an old enemy—Theo Nott. Along the way, he's hoping to catch the attention of his ex—Draco Malfoy—who is now dating Theo.

💍 This Life Now by @nerdherderette and S3anchaidh (M, 38k)

This close up, Draco can see the differences that have occurred over the years. Harry's hair is longer, although it's as unruly as ever; his forearms are well-muscled and decorated with ink; and there are small lines by his eyes that look like they would crinkle if he were smiling. Which, at this moment, he most definitely is not. He looks like he's worn the same clothes for three days and just rolled out of bed, yet Harry's so unfairly gorgeous it makes Draco's heart ache. "What do you want, Draco?" Harry asks, his voice resigned. The question snaps Draco out of his reverie. "A divorce," he proclaims as he opens his bag.

🔍 Double Trouble by @multiverse-of-fanfic (E, 57k)

Four years after the War, Draco is stuck in a dead-end job, paper-pushing his life away. Until one day, after a security breach in the Ministry, he receives an offer he can’t refuse. Thrown back into a world he thought he’d left behind, Draco must wrestle with his Death Eater past as well as his inconvenient — and forbidden — feelings for an annoyingly level-headed Harry Potter. Will he manage to come out unscathed like he has most of his life, or will it all come crashing down?

Art:

🐍 Before daybreak by @pato-roldnart (T)

Harry as the master of Dreams helps his little nightmare clear up his concerns about his role in the dreaming. Draco does not have much of a choice in the matter.

💋 History Maker by @okay-sky (G)

He's done it! Harry Potter has caught the snitch, winning the League Cup for the Pride of Portree for the first time in three hundred years! And—what's this? Potter's personal trainer, Draco Malfoy, is running out onto the pitch! And he's—! My goodness, did he just kiss Potter?!

⚔️ no daylight by @personaje-fics (G) - for my prompt!!!

After Draco loses his leg saving a crewmate, Harry teaches him how to fight. He's teaching him how to defeat him, too.

💄 Pretty by @melcarrianna (M)

It’s Pretty Woman, but Drarry.

🌙 When I Close My Eyes by @fantalfart (G)

"Because I like who I am chasing him."

#lcdrarry 2023 #Sitp recs

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gasolinerainbowpuddles · 11 months

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Fly Me To the Moon║ ⒸⓄⓁⓁⒺⒸⓉⒾⓄⓃⓈ

| FLY ME TO THE MOON | part of the A Weight Off Your Shoulders collection ║ series masterlist ║ main masterlist ║ | PAIRING(s): Joel Miller x plus sized!fem!neighbor

| RATING: explicit material | 18+ | WORD COUNT: 5.5k | CONTENT: age gap (Joel mid 40s, neighbor late 20s), struggles of body image and self-worth, Joel gives off some himbo and “he’s so babygirl” vibes (an absolute chef’s kiss of a combo), these two dorks are so down bad for each other it’s stupid

| SYNOPSIS: Joel convinces you to take a weekend trip together.

✧this is the fourth installment of a oneshot collection but can (probably? sort of?) be read as a standalone✧

✧◦◦║ Part 1 ║ Part 2 ║ Part 3 ║ Part 5 ║ Part 6 ║◦◦✧

“Damn, I can’t even remember, darlin’,” Joel drawls, thumbing circles against your leg absentmindedly as he looks up at the ceiling in thought. “Ppfftt. Years. Years.”

“And you were the one telling me that I needed a vacation?” you huff in a laugh.

“Time ain’t got nothin’ to do with it. I’m still right. You need a damn break,” he shoots back with firm but loving kindness.

The airport intercom buzzed with static overhead before an announcement by way of a way too chipper, absolutely-cannot-be-her-actual-voice informed you that your flight would begin boarding in 10 minutes.

“How’d you hear about this again? This deal package thing?” you ask.

“Buddy a’mine from work.” He’s studying the ticket in his hand and glancing at yours. He’d made you print yours out instead of just using the digital ones he’d been issued. Because of course he had. And in the same middle aged man fashion, he’d hauled you to the airport way too many hours before you actually needed to be there. You didn’t really mind, though. It just meant the two of you could sit and talk and relax for longer. A nice start to the quick 3 day vacation to Cabo San Lucas that Joel had all but insisted you take with him.

“Your work friends take cute little weekend trips to Cabo?” you snort.

Joel smirks at the tickets as he reads over them for the 5 millionth time to ensure all the details haven’t magically changed since the last time he checked them. He pushes his glasses up his nose from where they had steadily crept down.

That’s one of the things you’d learned about Joel early on. He wore contacts almost exclusively when he was working on major projects or during the busier time of year for contracting - “safer’n tryna stack safety goggles on top of some glasses” - but opted for some seriously unfairly adorable glasses the rest of the time. He looked good either way, of course.

You follow the line of his nose to where the bridge of it now correctly supports his frames. There was numerous things about Joel’s appearance that you loved, but his nose had snuck into the lineup at some point. Probably something to do with how much you loved when he’d drag it into you when he was lapping you up, the tip of it bumping and stimulating your clit until you couldn’t take it anymore and–

The announcement overhead informs you that the First Class flyers could “ready themselves for boarding at this time.”

“So do they? Bunch of manly, manly man men taking beach getaways?” you taunt.

He lifts an eyebrow and tears his gaze away from the tickets.

“No, just my dumbass buddy who’s on his third wife ‘n has managed to learn enough that a romantic gesture here ‘n there is a helluva lot cheaper than a divorce lawyer,” he chortles.

“Pretty good motivator, I guess,” you admit with amusement. “So what’s your excuse?”

“My excuse? For what? Bookin’ this trip?” he asks. You nod, and he shrugs.

“I’ll be honest with ya, I’m tryna get into this girl’s pants, and I think a coupla beachside margaritas’ll do the trick. She seems like a bit of a slut, to tell ya the truth, but that works out just fine ‘cause I’m a slut, too.” He wiggles his eyebrows theatrically and grins at you when you playfully swat his arm. He leans in closer and grips the inside of your thigh.

“Truth be told, I’m hopin’ to catch sight’a her in this lil pink stringy bikini I’m rather fond of,” he rasps into your ear. You erupt in goosebumps and half-heartedly nudge him away with a bad impression of a chiding look.

“Yeah, well, let’s hope there’s not any turbulence or else the only thing you’ll catch sight of is that girl with her head down the toilet for the rest of the night,” you deadpan.

Joel makes a dissenting noise and trades his grasp on your leg for your hand. “Baby, it’s alright. It’s not a long flight. Promise. I checked the weather and all that. Sunny. Not even a cloud out there. It’ll be alright,” he soothes.

You’d let him know ahead of time that you did not like flying. You wouldn’t go so far as deeming it a phobia, but flying in general made you anxious enough that any amount of turbulence was enough to set you off entirely. You were too embarrassed to share the other reasons of why you hated flying. Joel wouldn’t have made you feel bad about it if you had, but you hated that it was even a thing in the first place.

It was a commonly shared experience that flying was little more than “sardines packed into a tin can” that commoners just had to deal with. Then of course there was the lost luggage or the crying babies or the seating disagreements. Common ground for just about anybody who traveled enough. There was a reason why so many comedians had made airline and flying jokes their bread and butter.

Then there were the additional drawbacks for “passengers of size,” as they were so lovingly called by airlines. Those who carried “more than their share” of poundage being seated beside - or worse, in between - smaller passengers meant you ended up a source of annoyance. An easy, uniting point of focus for disgruntled flyers to project all their grievances onto. How dare you squash into the seat like the rest of us, except you’re bigger so it’s somehow a personal insult to them that you’d make an unpleasant experience even more so.

Because it was so preventable, right? Just be smaller. Eat less. Control yourself every once in a while. Put down the cheeseburger and go for a run every now and then. If you would just stop being so selfishly huge, the rest of us wouldn’t have to put up with your body spilling over into our seat. We wouldn’t have to deal with you shoving and squeezing past everybody because you don’t fit. You aren’t meant to be so big, that’s why you don’t fit. Take the hint and drop a few pounds. For our sake. For your sake.

Or at least have the decency to buy yourself two seats and spare us all the unpleasantries of being made to deal with your bad decisions, your lack of control, your lazy life that has made you too big. We shouldn’t have to pay for the consequences of your bad choices.

Yeah. You dreaded flying.

But how could you possibly put such a damper on this nice gesture from Joel? He’d been so eager and sweet to suggest it. He’d even bought the tickets before even talking to you so that he could guilt trip you into treating yourself to a vacation if you turned him down.

It didn’t take much convincing, though. The thought of Joel half naked and all to yourself for multiple days in a row clouded your judgment. Now that you were about to board, reality was sinking in fast. You tried your best to not let your anxiety get the better of you, but your leg was jumping up and down already.

Joel’s hand cupped the side of your face and turned you to look at him. “Hey, c’mon. I’m right here. I’ll stay beside you the whole time, alright? Get myself permanently banned from the airline when I pee into a water bottle instead’a gettin’ up to use the bathroom. Promise.” His playful attempt at distracting and comforting you works.

“That’s so gross, Joel,” you groan with a scrunched face.

“Just sayin. I’ll do whatever I hafta if it means you’re comfortable, baby,” he says in all sincerity. He brings your hand to his lips and trails a few kisses along your knuckles.

“Let’s go before I gotta chase you down and drag you onto this metal tube myself.”

You roll your eyes and laugh, feeling slightly more relaxed. You just hope nothing embarrassing happens in front of Joel. You don’t think you could stand that level of humiliation.

You hand your ticket to the woman, and she scans it wordlessly with a bored look. You walk ahead of Joel who calls for you to go ahead as he doubles back to the terminal seating where he’d dropped something from his pocket.

You move along the small boarding bridge until you reach a curve in it where you can step aside and allow others to pass. You notice the lingering looks from a few people. The tell tale “god, I hope I’m not seated next to her” expressions flashing before being politely buried and exchanged for a forced, tight-lipped smile.

Joel finally meanders along and gives you a quick peck before you both board. Joel is walking in first and puts both of your overhead luggage away in the bin. His bicep flexes with the movement, and you think to yourself you might just be able to distract yourself enough with certain things to make this flight go faster.

You glance around the plane as Joel finishes loading up the suitcases and closes the cover. The flight is packed. You don’t spot more than 7 empty seats, and there are people behind you. Great. You should’ve looked at your tickets closer like Joel had because maybe then you’d know if either of you had the aisle seat. At least that way you could shove some of yourself into the aisle and give everyone else more room.

“You first, honey,” he prompts, placing a gentle hand on your lower back.

“Um, I’ll just- I’d actually just rather sit in the aisle seat,” you say. “I don’t know if either one of our tickets–”

“I got the aisle seat on my ticket. You take it, baby.” He slides into the middle and pats the aisle seat beside him for you to sit down. You shimmy as gracefully as you can, praying that the armrests won’t dig into your sides too noticeably. You breathe a sigh of relief when you settle into the seat without having to fight the vice grip of metal bars on either side of you.

Joel lifts the armrests that divide the three seats. He wiggles with approval at the less confining arrangement and scoots closer to you.

“Mmmm thas’better,” he hums as he leans a kiss into the crook of your neck and grabs at the inside of your thigh again. His hand is working its way across your lower belly roll when you warn him under your breath to not get you worked up right now when you’re just gonna have to wait hours until he can do something about it. He doesn’t bother to hide the smug expression he’s wearing, all too proud of himself for getting you turned on so easily.

You anxiously await the arrival of the third person bound to put an end to the pretend private party you and Joel are having. You look around confused with a growing thrill when it appears that everyone has boarded the flight. The seat next to Joel’s is empty. You turn your neck to see if there are more open spots in the otherwise packed flight, but you can’t see any from where you’re sitting unless you stand to get a better view.

“I can’t believe we get the whole row to ourselves,” you whisper excitedly to Joel.

He smiles softly at you, taking a moment to soak up the shift in your mood where delight has taken the place of anxiety. “You must be a lucky charm, baby,” he coos before giving you a quick kiss.

It’s the usual spiel: exits are this way, put your own oxygen mask on first, don’t get up until the seatbelt sign goes off. Your last bit of nerves over securing the belt around yourself slip like grains of sand through open fingers when Joel leans over and buckles you in himself. As always, he plants a quick kiss on you before getting himself buckled.

He also unbuckles you once takeoff is done and everyone is “free to move about the cabin.” He cups your face, reminding you gently that he “told you it wasn’t gonna be too bad.” You grin at him. A small heat simmers from your chest to your cheeks at all the comfort and attention he’s showering on you, unaware of just how many things he’s helping you through.

When you repeatedly crane your head to look out the window, Joel asks if you still want the aisle seat.

“Oh. Sorry. I was just-No, I was just curious is all. The aisle seat is good,” you lie.

Of course you want to have the window seat. Everybody loves the window seat. It’s the best seat.

But you never get the window seat because that would mean you would be stuck in the corner, nowhere to lean your body to give others room, having to hold your pee because you can’t scoot past the other two seats and don’t want to be the spectacle of the fat girl making everyone else in your row get up so you can get out.

So, yeah. Aisle seat is fine.

Joel rolls his eyes at you and pokes your thigh. “You’re in my seat,” he says pointedly. You start to argue with him that no, seriously, it’s fine! you want the stupid aisle seat and not the much obviously better window seat, but then he decides to play dirty.

“I’mma call a stewardess over here and have her remove the unruly passenger that’s refusin’ to give me my seat,” he challenges with a playful jut of his chin towards you.

“OHMYGOD,” you huff. “FINE.”

Joel squeezes over and past you, and you shimmy over to the window.

“There is seriously something wrong with you, Joel,” you try to say as sternly as possible, but the wavering giggle in your tone gives you away.

“Shutup, baby, you love it,” he murmurs with a chuckle as he presses himself flush against the side of your back and rests his head on your shoulder. You both sit like that for a bit, looking out the window together with his hand holding yours in your lap.

The rest of the flight is over in record time after you amuse yourselves with the product catalogs in the seat pockets. You and Joel marvel at the dumbest shit that has ever been “invented,” and it somehow gets worse with each page. Joel mercilessly teased you at one point when you tried to hide your genuine interest at the lawn gnome that was fashioned like an accountant. Well, a banker. But still. Close enough in looks and all. And it was only $47.99 plus shipping and handling. Okay, that was an awful price for such a tacky, cheap garden decor item, but it was cute.

He still wouldn’t let it go after you landed and made your way towards the exit. “So lemme get this straight,” he starts with a devilish edge in his voice. “You give me grief for my ‘middle age man bullshit’ like, I dunno, gettin’ to the airport early enough so you’re on time for a flight, but I’m not supposed’ta say anythin’ about you tryna order from a damn airplane catalog?”

“Joel, you told me one time The Eagles made better music than Nirvana,” you scoff in defense of your position.

“That’s not what I said!” he huffs right back.

You only have yourself to blame for the 6 minute Now That’s What I Call Dad Rock! explanation that followed with all the “complex layers” that “determine good bands from bad bands.” Joel was quick to drop the subject entirely when you casually mention that you knew he had Black Eyed Peas in his iTunes library.

“Sarah must’a added that. Don’t even know what that is.” The nervous neck scratch and patchy pink on his cheeks suggested otherwise.

When you finally made it to your hotel, you can’t believe you’d ever considered not coming. Joel confesses that he upgraded the existing package for a “villa suite.” You considered lecturing him over “wasting his money on you,” but you settled for a “thank you” and a kiss when you correctly reminded yourself that this was for both of you.

You feel the hot burn of overwhelming contentment in your gut as you watch Joel list off all the activities included in the package. The snorkeling, sunset yacht cruise, and jet skiing all sound fun. The horseback riding, parasailing, and kayaking stand out as the biggest NOPEs for fat girls.

Joel calls down to the front desk to arrange the sunset yacht cruise for the two of you a few hours from now. He wants to shower - “fuckin’ airplane oxygen makes my skin crawl” - and you wave him off as you help yourself to some fruit the staff has left for you on a decadent looking platter arrangement. You hear the water cut on in the shower. You open the sliding panoramic glass doors to listen to the water from the beach that makes up most of your view.

You feel cliche the moment you think it, but you really do feel like you’re in paradise. Not just the location, either. Here, with Joel. Who pushed you to do something spontaneous and fun and spendy. Who comforted you the entire plane ride. Who made you feel special. Who still hadn’t pressured you to put a label on your relationship and seemed content that you were mutually exclusive and just needed more time to adjust to the idea of getting into another serious relationship so soon after you broke off your engagement with your shitbag ex Michael.

Another side of you was nervous for this trip because it was a very undeniable “couple in a serious, longterm, committed relationship” move. Not that Joel had ever mentioned it as such or even made you feel that way. It was all in your own head, like most of the things that held you back from doing what made you truly happy.

You shake your head and decide you’re going to focus on the amazing time ahead of you. Just as soon as you can get the price of your plane ticket from Joel so you could balance your digital register and pay him back. You’d talked him into letting you split the cost of the hotel package, but then he’d gone and upgraded it to this villa. You felt antsy about your airline ticket still being outstanding when you know Joel must’ve spent a good chunk of change for this nicer, more secluded lodging option.

“Hey, babe?” you call into the bathroom. He answers back with a watery yeah?

“Hey, how much did you say the ticket was? For the flight?”

A beat or two of silence. “Uhhh, I dunno off the top’a my head, baby. I can tell ya when I get out of the shower, though. Be just about 10 minutes, okay?”

“Alright,” you call back.

You turn and walk back into the bedroom portion of the villa. You see Joel’s clothes discarded on the floor. His phone, belt, and wallet littered on the neatly made king size bed. A thought crosses your mind that makes you smile. You pick up Joel’s phone and stare at the lockscreen. You didn’t know his password, but you didn’t have to. He’d unlock it for you if you ever asked to borrow it for a second. He wasn’t anything like the “suspiciously protective of their things” guys you’d been with before who didn’t want you to go through anything of theirs, especially electronics.

You hum to yourself and take a bite of pineapple. You’ve just come up with a little game, a test for yourself, to see if you can guess Joel’s password without any help from him. Worst case scenario it’d lock you out for a little bit and you’d have to wait to get your ticket price. Best case scenario you prove to yourself and to him that you know him like the back of your hand. That, and you can check his email for the flight receipt.

Hhmmmmm. Seven numbers. Must be Sarah’s doing. Joel wouldn’t go out of his way to add more digits to a passcode just to make it harder to get into. Path of least resistance was Joel’s general approach to technology. You take a bite of a strawberry. Then a mango. Oh my god, this shit is delicious. Fresh fruit had to be one of the best things on earth.

Seven. Seven. Seven. Hhhmmmmmmmm.

Your face lights up. You know it. You know his passcode. It HAS to be this. You’d wager a good amount of money that you’re correct. You start to punch in the numbers.

8 0 0 8 1 3 5

It unlocks the second you hit the 5. You let out a victorious cackle. This DORK. Of course his password is “boobies” in numerical form. Of fucking course it is. Just when you think you can’t fall for this man any more than you already have, he goes and has that for his phone passcode.

“Fuckin’ perv,” you giggle to yourself with immense delight.

You are giggling and smiling to yourself as you click open his email. You scroll down until you see the airline name and then tap it open. Your brow furrows. The giggle that had been bubbling up your throat goes away in an instant. You don’t notice the sound of the shower being turned off or the rustling of Joel toweling himself off.

Joel’s words from earlier echo in your mind. “I’ll do whatever I hafta if it means you’re comfortable, baby.”

You stare at the screen, scrolling up and down and back again to make sure you’re reading it correctly.

“Everything okay? You aren’t answerin’ me,” Joel asks from the bathroom doorway.

You turn towards him, and he can now see you clutching his unlocked phone in your hand. The glow of it reflects off your glossed eyes where tears are prickling at the brim. A look of realization from Joel.

“Baby, I– Please just let me–” he starts in a hurry.

“You bought three plane seats? You bought the whole row?” you squeak out.

“I’m– I did, but it wasn’t–”

“Why’d you do that?” you demand. You already know why.

“Baby, listen. It’s not like that! I knew you’d be annoyed at me putting up the money for first class, so I just did it this way instead. You weren’t supposed’ta find out,” he implores.

He slowly approaches you, sensing the teetering mood that’s been set. His eyes are searching yours and begging for forgiveness all at once.

“First class? Because of, because they’re bigger seats? And-And a whole row so a third person didn’t have to squeeze in? So just me and you could sit together in the row?” you mumble.

You make a frustrated noise when you start replaying the day.

“Oh my god. The pocket. Your thing you said you dropped from your pocket? That you went back into the terminal to get? You didn’t even drop anything! Did you? You just needed to make sure I couldn’t see the lady scan two tickets!”

Joel swallows thickly and looks like he has no idea what to do or say.

Something akin to embarrassment threatens to take hold of you, but instead an overwhelming sense of love and security takes its place. Joel wanted to buy you First Class seats for a more comfortable flight, but he knew you’d get stuck on him spending that sort of money. So instead he bought an extra seat in economy class just so you could have enough room to move around comfortably. So you’d have a good flight. So you’d have a good start to the amazing weekend trip he’d planned.

“I-I did it because I-I just wanted you to have a good flight and be comfortable. Please, it’s not what you’re thinking. I know you get anxiety flyin’, and nobody fits good in those stupid seats anyway.” He’s a bit more frantic in his explanation now that you’re just staring at him, blinking slowly. He grabs your hands in his.

“Please. Please. Don’t be mad at me. Please,” he begs.

“Mad? At you?” You’re confused. Joel thinks you’re mad at him. For doing one of the most considerate things anyone has ever done for you and without any prompting. Somebody who’d probably never been more than 10 pounds “overweight” their entire life. Somebody who had no lived experience occupying a fat body. Somebody who because of those things would have to care deeply for someone to think of them in such an intimate, personal context. To even consider what their experiences were like. To imagine how they might be able to do something to make those experiences safer, nicer, more palatable for them. Joel had come up with this idea because he cared about you that much.

His head shifts sideways, sharing in the confusion. “Aren’t you?” he wonders.

“That is… the nicest thing… that anyone has ever–,” you break off when your voice cracks with emotion.

Joel’s expression softens when he gathers you aren’t furious with him. You close your eyes and take a deep breath before opening them again and wrapping your arms around Joel’s middle.

“No. I’m not mad. At all. You… You’re … Just.. I just….” You shake your head as you look up to him. Trying to collect yourself and your thoughts feels like the hardest thing that’s ever been done in the history of doing hard things.

He shakes his head back at you. “You can– You’re allowed to be upset with me. I shoulda told you. I shoulda just told you the truth. I just didn’t want for you to, I dunno. Didn’t want you to feel embarrassed or somethin’. Not that you should feel embarrassed. Just that I thought you might feel embarrassed ‘bout it. ‘Cause of nerves or how you’d fit in the seats. Didn’t want you feelin’ self-conscious about any of it. Jus’ wanted you to be comfortable. Thought it was the best way to go about it, s’all. I know it was dumb. Shouldn’t’a kept it from you.”

“Take this stupid towel off,” you order.

“I-what?”

The quick turn in the conversation stuns Joel for a moment. You don’t wait for him to catch up. You shove the towel off his hips and let it drop to the floor. You walk him backwards until the backs of his knees hit the bed. A hard shove lands him onto his back against the soft mattress.

“The hell?” he mutters. There’s confusion in his tone but zero resistance to the surprising but welcome turn of events.

He’s sprawled out against the large bed, and you take the opportunity of his wide spread to start licking anywhere and everywhere. His hips buck at the first pass of your flat tongue against his balls.

“Gahh-Goddamn. Fuck. The fuck is goin’ on?” he rasps.

You laugh at his suspended disbelief and bewilderment as you slurp both of his balls into your mouth and start a pull of light suction on them. A whiny moan grumbles in his throat at the sensation.

You release him and let the slobber drip down your chin. “M’showin’ you how not mad I am at you.”

His eyes roll back when you take his entire length into your mouth with one motion. His hips jerk when you bottom out.

“Ooohhh-hngggg jesusfuckinchrist,” his voice crackles and strains. You work his length with such fervor that your drool is running down his shaft, dripping onto the curly brown hairs at his base, sliding in hot streaks down his ass on either side of his ballsack. You so rarely got to please him like this. He always preferred you riding his face or letting him titty fuck you. You hadn’t really ever shown him your particular skillset in this department, but you were sure as hell gonna clear that up today.

“Ba-Baby. Agh fuck. Lemme tast–” Joel is sputtering through his sentence, but it drops off entirely when you start to jerk him off and bury your tongue into his asshole. His legs snap up into a loose bend at the knee. His hand flies to the top of your head.

“OH FUCK,” he blurts out, raising his hips off the bed slightly for you to have better access.

You trade off between rolling your tongue with firm presses against his hole and darting as much of your tongue as you can inside of it, and he sounds borderline hysterical. You move up to his balls again and suck them into the vacuum of your mouth more urgently than before. By the time you make it back up to his dick, he is blabbering absolute nonsense.

“Gah-jus’ wanna— hhhngggg, oh fuck haahhhhhh, christ— if I wanna – but wanna fuck your–”

A strangled moan cuts his incoherent musings off. The fact that this man thinks he can last long enough to fuck you? In the state you’ve whipped him into? Actually hilarious. He’s about to spiral, and you’re almost done showing him how not mad you are. You know what will get him there, and quick.

“Joel, shut the fuck up already and turn my throat into a daycare,” you growl.

“JESUS CHRIST, YOU’RE GONNA FUCKIN’ END ME,” he practically sobs when you take him into your mouth again.

You bob the tip of his head in your throat and massage his balls. His entire body stiffens as he grabs for your hair. He makes a sort of pained noise just before you feel him twitching inside your mouth. The loud, distress-adjacent moans ripping from his chest are almost enough to make you get off, too.

You work him through his release, swallowing and bobbing as his spend shoots into your throat. You don’t stop until he gently pulls you off of him.

You are a complete mess. Slobber and cum dripping and sliding every which way. You couldn’t give less of a shit. Joel’s astonished, blissed out look right now makes your day. You wished your phone was closer to you could snap a picture of him, looking like he’d just seen a sleep paralysis demon do a long division math problem before running off to play hopscotch with some Keebler Elves.

“You okay?” you laugh as you crawl up next to him and wrap your arms around his neck. He turns to look at you with wide-eyed awe. You can’t help but crack up at his astonishment.

“You’re acting like nobody’s ever sucked your dick before, Joel,” you gibe.

“NOT LIKE THAT THEY HAVEN'T.” His voice perfectly compliments his expression. Bewildered. Satisfied. Reverent.

You laugh again. You made mental notes of your performance. Save that routine in your back pocket and bust it out when you need it. A real “BREAK GLASS IN CASE OF EMERGENCY” type blowjob. Always a good thing to have.

“Told you I wasn’t mad,” you titter. You place wet kisses against his neck and snuggle closer. He relaxes against the bed and slowly comes back to his senses. You feel his chest shake with a laugh.

“What? What’s so funny?” you demand.

“Turn my throat into a daycare?” he echoes your words back to you. He sniffs an impressed, incredulous laugh through his nose. “Absolutely foul, Roxanne.”

You bark a laugh at his use of your full name. You could probably count on one hand the times he’d used it, and it was always when he was being very serious about something. The fact that he’d used it in this context felt like the funniest thing you’d ever heard in your life. When your rolls of laughter subsided, you took him to task on his declaration of you being “foul.”

“Uuuhhhhh, that’s real rich coming from the guy who has BOOBIES for his passcode! If I’m a pervert, then you’re a pervert,” you assert.

“Damn, guess you’re right,” he tuts. “Sounds like we really deserve each other.”

Your breath catches, and you lock eyes with one another. You don’t think he meant for it to sound as meaningful as it did. He opens his mouth and closes it a few times before settling for silence. His face is so open yet impossible to read.

“Yeah. I think you’re right. I think we do deserve each other,” you agree in a low voice and a shy smile.

Joel wordlessly brings your mouth to his and captures you in a slow, deep kiss. It feels like he’s saying whatever it was that he couldn’t just a few moments ago. For now you greedily take what he’s able to communicate, but you know eventually you’ll both have to work up the nerve to talk about it and say all the things you’ve been saying through touches and gifts and looks and gestures and acts of service.

But for right now, you’re just going to take the time to enjoy what’s right in front of you.

me, to the characters I am writing and putting into the very specific situations I'm reading: OH MY FUCKING GOD, YOU TWO JUST KNOCK IT OFF ALREADY AND ADMIT YOU LOVE EACH OTHER

me, before anyone can ask why this is being posted before the sub!Joel fic that was supposed to come out next:

catch ya later, ♥Puddles♥

#fic: a weight off your shoulders #joel miller #joel miller x plus size reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #joel miller hbo #tlou fic #the last of us fanfiction #oneshots

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grogusmum · 1 year

Text

Seven Tears part 6

SELKIE!EZRA X F!READER

WORD COUNT: 2500ish

SERIES SUMMARY: Months after being abandoned, she does something rash and summons a selkie, who wishes to bring her comfort and maybe more.

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Summer moves quickly on Roan Inish, Pearl and Cee grow close and the baby is born, but the fall brings the annulment at last, and with it there is retaliation and a choice is made.

WARNING: Olde Timey gender norms and sexism, though set in mid-20th century Ireland, and Ireland's predominantly white, Reader is physically undescribed, as are her blood relatives, her missing spouse, and his family are white, reader gives birth (not described), Cee in peril, ANGST, Colin and Jamie continue to be horrible people, Ezra is a selkie, yes, it deserves its own warning, excessive use of pet names, painful cliffhanger - its going to be okay, I promise! (as always see something say something. please let me know in my DMs if there is a warning I missed)

A/N: Welp, at 364 days since the last update- it hasn't been a literal year since the last chapter... After I finally got it down and started editing I realized why I had such a block. At least part of it anyway... This is a tough one. I understand why I kept diverting to writing side fics with sexytimes, new-fangled doodads, flashbacks of shenanigans, and so forth. While I was figuring out this chapter, and well into writing it, I spent most of the time saying to Ezra, can we just make breakfast and snuggle??? Of course, he's no help because he says yes let's. Like so many of my penultimate chapters, it's a cliffhanger and a painful one, and I am so very sorry. But I am not stopping and taking a break to do other fics. I will be writing part 7 this weekend.

Gaelic Translation (with a dash of history)

Móra dhuit ar maidin: good morning, is a twist on the traditional Dia dhuit ar maidin which means God (be) with you. Some believe this is where the infamous “Top of the Morning” Mor meaning big, Mora believed to be a “lost word”. However, it was discovered that in fact, this is one of the quite rare surviving pagan blessings. Mór was a significant goddess (note: attributes quite different to the Morrigan or Mór Ríon, even if sometimes mixed together) with many avatars. Of course, this all can be debated to the end of time, when one’s religion and language are made illegal so much is lost.

Gaeilge translation

A ghrá: love

Mo stór: Literally translating to “My treasure,” this phrase is often used to mean “my darling.”

Part 5

Series Masterlist

‘You would have to become a selkie yourself.’

Ezra stopped further conversation that night about it. “Today has been long and arduous, and not the hour for decisions of this magnitude, Moonbeam.” He had said, then unfairly distracted you as only he can.

Your time on the island was magical. You cleaned out the other cottages and your parents brought some basic furniture. The cottages were sparse but appointed with the necessaries to visit comfortably. The visits from your family and Tilda and Fergus were lovely. Because your relocation was for your safety and protection, no one knew beyond that circle. You knew you would miss your friends and cousins. But for now, you were distracted from missing them too badly because Cee came to visit, often. It was new to her, and she found it great fun. She would look at her human feet or hands and laugh with wonder, she would tell you later ‘wonder at their ridiculousness’. You noted fondly that she had a little bit of her father’s laugh.

The first time she came up out of the water you got to see the transformation firsthand. Her flippers felt for the seam under her snout, invisible to the eye. She then pulled it apart and a blonde teenager emerged.

Blonde. You looked at Ezra, flabbergasted. To which he said-

“There is a saying, my Pearl, all toads are frogs but not all frogs are indeed toads. Uncommon it may be, but one needs only look for the sea storm in her eyes to know.”

Cee came and went from the shoals, and Ezra reminded you not to worry, that as your belly rounded with every week that passed, he would be the worrier in the family.

Spending the morning fishing with your Da and Thomas, Ezra is gone when you wake. This is his way of thanking them as they usually have other supplies for you. Cee emerges from her bed which is curtained off in one corner of the great room, as you set out two bowls of porridge.

“Móra dhuit ar maidin (MOR-uhg(w)itch air MA-jin), Cee”

“Móra dhuit ar ma–” Cee yawns openly, “jin. Where is me Da?”

She, then, sniffs the oats hopefully.

“Fishing,” You tell her. “Why don' you cut some apples, dear.”

“With hooks and a line?” Cee chuffs as she sets to the task. You can not help joining her mirth.

You are with Cee on your own for the first time-

“You must have missed Ezr- your Da. I did not know I was keeping him from anyone- I would have encouraged him to visit. I am truly sorry, Cee.”

“‘tis the nature of things,” Cee says, mouth full of apples and oats, “besides if he were to slip back into his pelt and visit, he could not return to you for seven years. He has loved you a long time- everyone knows that!”

You are taken aback, you hardly register the sweet knowledge that she and others in his pod knew his love for you, thinking about the fact that if he goes in he can not return for seven years. Seeing her come and go, you assumed, with no small amount of relief, that bit was a myth, and you tell her so.

“Oh, I can come and go, because I am a natural-born selkie. Da was turned.”

“How was he turned?”

“Well,” Cee starts, “ehm, that is probably a story he ought tell you. Though he don' really like to tell that tale.”

By the time of Ezra return, Cee’s words were pushed out of your mind. For the pair of you had gathered seaweed and dug clams for luncheon, and you had felt your first real kick from the baby.

“Pearl! Come sit,” Ezra pulls you into the house. “You need to rest.”

Sitting you down by the fireplace, he settles on his knees, splaying a large warm hand on your lower belly, soft brown eyes on you, hoping to feel another kick.

“How does everyone?”

“Very well, Moonbeam,” Ezra absently runs his hand over the expanse of your middle, then drops his head on your lap. “Patrick had some supplies for us as well.”

“Any news?”

“Well…”

“What, a ghrá (uh GHRAH)?”

“Colin and his brother are still ragin’. Dierdre is making progress with the annulment, tis not sitting too well, it seems.”

“Pity sake”

“He deserves none," Ezra's eyes darken and you see his selkie nature for just a moment.

On the longest day, your water breaks at 4 a.m. The gift of midsummer's day is that daylight is already breaking, and Ezra can take the currach out right away and fetch your mam. The whole of the family comes back with Ezra and waits outside the cottage as Deirdre and Felicia help you bring young Rory into the world, with Ezra attached to your side.

When Rory's shoulder breaches its final barrier with your last mighty push, he slips like a seal into your mother’s waiting arms.

Ezra kisses your glistening brow and with a whoop, he runs to the window to shout to kin both seal and man-

“Tis a boy! With a shock of red hair from who knows where!” To which everyone whooped and laughed hardily.

“It’s midsummer! That’d be the faeries doing!” Hugh calls.

“Someone tell that boy to hush,” Deirdre says to no one in particular, shaking her head and crossing herself. She hands off the swaddled babe to Felicia, who brings him to you. Your Mam goes to the fireplace takes up an iron poker and draws talismans into the ash, muttering about faeries, calling St. Bridget to protect the home and all dwelling within.

You, Ezra, Rory, and Cee grow more in love with every passing day. There is nothing Cee enjoys more than when Rory is in his boat cradle, being lulled in the shallows tethered to a rope you hold fast to. During his fussy times, it is the only thing that calms him. She swims round and round it, bobbing up to check on him. Ezra barks his laugh at Cee’s antics and in the evenings he holds his son close, nosing his cheek and murmuring in the old way. And of course, any chance he gets, he brings you closer to him than many would find humanly possible. Nights are spent worshipful, in one another's arms. When the babe is wakeful, Ezra brings him to you, and when Rory is fed and dozing he silently takes him back to his cradle.

Summer rushes past as it has a habit of doing and autumn comes. Plans are set for this morning to go to the mainland to sign papers for your annulment.

“Tis finally here,” you sigh, kissing Ezra, the baby dressed and ready for a boat ride. “I’ll go to the church and get this settled at long last and meet you at the pub?”

“Agreed, mo stór (mu store)” Ezra says as he carries out a basket to the currach, he sets it in the boat and then helps you aboard, as you hold Rory.

The tide is with you as is the wind, so your trip is uneventful and swift. Ezra kisses your cheek and takes the baby for Tilda and Fergus to see and you head up to St Bridget’s to finally wash your hands of Colin. You smile as you walk the familiar cobbled road, excited butterflies in your belly. You remember to be watchful, knowing Colin and Jamie, this day is sure to stir up a hornet's nest. All is quiet, but you start to feel as though it is too quiet.

Ezra brings Rory into the pub, head up, bursting with fatherly pride, and Tilda comes round the board, hand on her heart. She takes up the baby as she gives Ezra a peck on the cheek.

“You may never get the wee one back,” Fergus laughs.

“Look how big you’ve gotten!” She coos.

“He is but a weed of a thing, growing faster-” No sooner does Ezra sit to catch up with his friends, does Hugh run into the bar, holding a stitch in his side. Ezra stands, his nostrils flaring as his eyes go dark, as if the barometer just fell and he could feel a dangerous storm brewing.

“I was- I was down at the docks-” he gasps trying to catch his breath. “Cee was there, knew it was the- the big day. But Colin-”

Ezra was on him, hands like vices on his shoulders.

“Ezra!” Tilda commands. He let go but the huff of his breathing bristles his mustache.

“What about Colin,” Ezra’s voice is like nothing they have ever heard. Rory fusses.

“He’s got Cee in a net, started dragging her out. Da -.”

Ezra bellows.

“Watch over Rory, Tilda. Hugh, does she know?”

“No, I came here first. Thomas has a boat- one with a motor-”

“Good lad,” Ezra breathes and storms from the pub, Hugh following behind.

At the dock, Ezra prowles up and down, until Thomas comes into view.

“Over there!”

Ezra looks at the small vessel with an outboard motor, mildly distrustful.

“Hugh stay at the dock and keep watch. We will get to the boa-”

“No. Go back to the island.”

“Wh-”

“I need my pelt.”

Cee twists and bites at the net, angry at herself for getting caught. Knowing this was to get to you and Ezra. Other seals surround her, trying to help.

She barks, nostrils flaring, pointing with her nose behind her. Two seals peel off and go in the direction she indicates, while one stays with Cee.

Soon enough two gray seals like torpedoes reach Ezra, flanking the port and starboard bows. Their heads come above the surface and one barks.

"Go on ahead to the island, in the hamper at the end of the big bed. Fast. Meet me back at this boat. Mind the propeller," Ezra shouts over the wind and motor.

The seals put out a burst of speed, porpoising in and out of the water.

"What are you going to do?"

"You have to tell her," Ezra's voice breaks, eyes rimmed red. "Tell her, I will return even if she can't bring herself to come to me. I will-"

"Ezra?"

"I promised," he wails, "I have never promised anyone anything- only she! But I can't let Cee-"

"She'll understand."

"I'm deserting her!"

"I will tell her."

"Is there anything to write with?"

Thomas rummages a bit and pulls from his pack, a small notebook with a pen tucked in its spine.

Ezra takes it and begins scribbling frantically.

Jamie’s boat speeds along, gulls scold them, and seals chase. Colin and Jamie jeer at them, determined to take their offense out on the young selkie. Heedless of the long-held taboo and the consequences that can befall entire villages, for harming a seal. Whether or not they know Cee was a selkie or a seal, they laughed in bad humor and wondered if one of them would make wife of her. They are both quite lucky Cee could not hear their base chatter.

After chewing at the net for some time, Cee finally breaks through the net, barking a laugh of triumph. When she slips free, she rolls and tumbles with her companion in celebration. When she has had her fill, she bobs in the water watching as the craft continues east. Cee barks at the other seal and sets after the boat at top speed. Only after she chews the netting that held her captive to shreds, does she make way to the mainland. But it is not long before she is faced with her mistake.

You arrive at the pub in good spirits, but your relaxed smile is wiped clean off at the sight of the faces within. Your face falls further seeing Tilda with Rory, and Ezra nowhere to be found.

"Where-"

For the second time today, Hugh bursts in like the devil is at his heels-

"C-cee-"

"Is she alright?" Tilda says standing.

"She is! She- she got away, but she's ragin' on the stand!"

The lot of you pour out of the pub. Fergus tosses out a lone customer and locks up behind. Hugh hastily explains what he knows, as your eyes become saucers. At the beach Cee is half out of her coat, as she is covered with the blanket that Tilda had the forethought to bring, she seethes-

"Da went after 'em. He didn’ know I broke free on me own until after he’d done it! He's angrier than I have ever seen!"

"Are you alright? Are you hurt at all?" Your eyes search her.

"He's not mad at that- well he is bu' he's fit to be tied because-" Cee's words pull up short, she looks like she might cry. "He thought- he- put on his pelt. I- I'm sorry."

You look as though you've been struck in the face, but you rub her shoulder absently hoping she knows you do not blame her.

"He's gone after the boat, he wi- he'll sink it," Cee finishes.

"Where's Thomas?" Asks Hugh.

"I'm here!" Thomas runs down the rocky steps, and hands you the note.

My shining Pearl,

I am loath to break my promise and beg your forgiveness.

Do I dare remind you that we spoke of you coming with me?

Though I admit that conversation was far from over.

Do I presume to ask for this gift?

Would you don a silken seal coat, mo ghrá?

Would you do this for me though I hardly deserve it?

Yours forever,

Ezra

When you finish reading, you find yourself turning a lost circle, pebbles shifting underfoot.

"I- he-" You look down at the note again, eyes brimming with unshed tears.

"He didn't want to!" Thomas says, beside himself.

"Of course, he didn't," Dierdre soothes.

Trembling, you rush to Tilda grasping her hands. Blinded by the tears that refuse to fall, you don't see what everyone else can see plain, she knows your question and hates the answer.

"The Maiden and the Seal-lord! She- she was able to take her grandmother's pelt! You have one from yours, yes? Please yes!"

The waves crash, as though very ocean can not abide your tears.

"Darlin, my seal gran has too many greats in front of it to tell us, even if I could dig it up and give it to you," Tilda holds your panicked face in her worn hands. " Which I would, I most surely would. But it would not transform you- for no matter how close I hold you as kin, you must be a blood relation. Your way… if you wish it, it will be harder."

Your wail breaks her heart, gulls echo your cry.

You take Rory in your arms, the note crushed in your hand, and climb Widow’s Rock.

"Ez-ra!"

Deirdre sends everyone back to the house and carefully climbs the rock. She wraps her arms around you and Rory.

"For right or wrong, God forgive him. He will sink that boat and come back to you, even if he can't take off his coat."

You nod in response, eyes on the open water-

"I need to talk to Cee.”

Part 7

💚THANK YOU FOR READING💚REBLOGS AND COMMENTS ARE MUCH APPRECIATED💚

If you care to read more of my stories you can find my masterlist here and if you would like to be tagged for any of my fics you can find my handy dandy taglist form here.

#selkie ezra x reader #ezra (prospect au)#pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fic #selkie #selkie ezra #ezra (prospect) x f!reader #selkie au

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semisgroupie · 1 year

Text

OVERTIME HOURS

pervy boss!chifuyu matsuno x fem. reader

wc: 2.3k

warnings: office sex, slight power imbalance (since chifuyu is your boss), mutual pining, very very soft dom chifuyu, unprotected sex, creampie, noncon filming (reader isn’t aware of a hidden camera), slight deception, light choking, overstimulation, possessiveness

synopsis: he hired you to get close to you, now that you two are alone so late at night he has to make his move

a/n: this was requesting by my love @blueparadis for my “perverts make the world go ‘round” 4k event! thank you for requesting my love and I hope you enjoy it!

It’s not like you weren’t qualified for the job when he hired you. You were more than qualified, you had an extensive list of experience and all your references had glowing remarks about you.

But the second you walked into his office, your tight pencil skirt hugging all your curves and the top buttons on your blouse gave him a perfect view of your chest, he knew he had to hire you so he could get close to you. Which also meant he had to do whatever he could to have some alone time with you, whether you liked it or not.

Since you got hired you felt like you were being treated unfairly your boss than anyone else, you were the one who had to stay in late almost every day because of the projects you were assigned, you were always called into Chifuyu’s office to discuss your work, you always had to revise things and check your work over with him constantly before submitting in the final work. It drove you insane but you needed the check. With student loans from college and your rent there was no way you could afford losing your job.

Today you went in early in hopes of being able to finish your work early so you could go home on time but Chifuyu had other plans. When you had come back from your lunch break there he stood in your office, his dark hair styled neatly, his expensive suit pressed and hugged his frame perfectly. You let out a small sigh before mustering a fake smile as you opened the door.

“Good afternoon sir, how can I help you?” You looked at the stack of papers in his hands and all dreams of leaving on time to enjoy your weekend were shot down. “I need you to look over and just do some checks on these potential clients. I know I’ve been on you a lot lately”, more like since the first day you started working. “I just know you can do the work best and I trust you. I’ll be staying behind too and when you’re done just meet me in the conference room. That way we can spread everything out and go over it all.”

You nodded and opened your arms to take the papers from him, he leaned in close and you could smell the pine from his cologne before he pulled back. “Don’t worry, your check will reflect all this overtime work. I really appreciate it.” He flashed you a smile then left your office.

If you knew any better you would’ve realized that these were all old clients that have already gone through the checking process, most had ended up being denied since they doctored some of their records but you didn’t know that. And what you don’t know won’t hurt you.

By the time everyone started leaving you were about halfway through with the stack of papers. You glanced up to watch everyone fan out then your eyes trailed to the water dispenser. There stood Chifuyu, his suit jacket was off and his tie was loosened around his neck as he filled his bottle. You watched how his muscles tensed with each subtle movement but you had to pull yourself away. Yes your boss was extremely attractive, the subject of all your wet dreams, but you had to save those thoughts for the privacy of your home.

After what felt like a thousand papers, you were finally finished going through them but now you had to take them to the conference room. You collected them in your arms and left your office to carry them there, once inside you spread them out and after a few minutes Chifuyu walked inside. “I know it probably was a lot of reading and backtracking but I really appreciate this. I hope you don’t mind my lack of a suit jacket and tie, it’s just you and I here.” You hadn’t noticed it until now, the top few buttons on his shirt were unbuttoned and you could see some of his chest. “It’s fine sir, I have no problem with that.”

He walked over to the side of the table you were at and walked behind you. As he passed you could’ve sworn you felt a light brush of his fingers against your ass but you ignored any thoughts. You started sharing your findings with him and it was all things he found out when he went over all the records but he had to pretend to be interested in what you were saying as you spoke. But that didn’t mean his eyes couldn’t wander along your body, practically undressing you with his eyes.

“That’s all I was able to find sir, I don’t think we should have these people as clients unless we want to ruin our reputation.” You turned to face him and leaned against the table. “That was perfect, absolutely perfect but I don’t expect any less from you, darling.” He moved a bit closer to you and placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, lightly squeezing it.

“Hm, you feel quite tense. That’s not good at all, I can’t have my best worker this tense.” He commented and moved behind you, resting both hands on your shoulders. “Sir? What are you doing?” Your heart was practically pounding in your chest as he started massaging your shoulders, you could feel his breath on your ear and he felt closer to you than you could possibly imagine.

“Shh, just relax for me, that’s all I want. You should be treated for all your hard work and it’s just us, don’t worry about a thing. Just enjoy this.” His voice was low, barely above a whisper while his hands worked on your tense muscles. You knew what he was doing was clearly unprofessional but you couldn’t seem to stop him. All you could do was lean back into his touch and close your eyes as he worked his magic.

“You’re wearing too much, just massaging over your blouse won’t help.” He spoke again as his hands moved to your front to start unbuttoning your blouse. You moved your hands to stop him but he swatted them away, “I promise you’ll feel good, don’t worry. Don’t you want this? I’ve seen the way you look at me, I’ve seen how you’ve been looking at me the entire time I’ve been here with you, I even noticed the way you slightly rubbed your thighs together. This tight pencil skirt doesn’t hide a single thing from my eyes, in fact, it accentuates everything. I can tell you this, I want you just as bad.”

Your heart started pounding even faster in your chest. You couldn’t believe his words, there was no way he noticed all that in such a short time. There was no way he could’ve wanted you, but if he didn’t then why was he undressing you? “Sir—”

“Call me by my name, I want to hear it fall from those perfect lips.” His skillful fingers undid your blouse and slid the silk fabric down your shoulders then tossed it on one of the nearby chairs. His hands moved back to your body, groping your chest through your lacy bra. “Chifuyu.” His name fell from your lips and he thought it was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. No fantasy or wet dream could measure up to actually hearing it and he could feel his cock throb in his slacks.

“I’m going to take your skirt off then you’re going to sit on top of the table, I’m taking you over all this paperwork, all your hard work. It’s about time I properly repay you for it.” One of his hands continued to fondle your breasts while the other found the zipper to your skirt and quickly pulled it down then pulled at the skirt until it pooled at your feet. You stepped out of it then hopped up onto the table, any papers underneath you were bound to be ruined.

He undid his belt and pants, letting it drop to his ankles then his briefs joined the little bunched up pile. His cock sprung and slapped against his abdomen, its length made up for the lack of thickness and had a slight curve to it that could hit all your sweet spots in one swift movement. The tip was a pinkish red and leaked precum. Your mouth watered at the sight and you felt your pussy clench around nothing. “I would’ve taken my time with you but I’ve wanted this for so long, I can’t wait anymore.” He took one step closer to you and gripped your hips to pull you to the edge of the table. You took your bottom lip between your teeth as he pulled your panties to the side and leaned down to spit on your awaiting pussy.

He gripped his cock with one hand and dragged it through your folds to collect the mixture of your juices and his spit before he pushed it inside you. In one swift motion he snapped his hips into yours, forcing you to take his length in its entirety, which in turn made you cum instantly. Your back arched off the table and a gasp of his name left your lips, your legs shook around his sides and your pussy kept his cock in a vice grip. “Oh fuck baby, just breathe for me. I wanna make you feel even better.”

He watched your chest rise and fall as you took a few deep breaths, “please move, Chifuyu. Please.” He gripped your hips tighter as he started thrusting, he couldn’t give you any time to properly come down from your orgasm. The pleasurable waves of overstimulation coursed through your body as he pounded into you. “I’ve wanted this since the moment you walked into my office, wanted to bend you over my desk and fuck you senseless. Always walking around in those tight skirts and dresses, just begging for my touch on this soft skin. Now I finally have you, I have you and you’re all mine, say it.”

You could barely process his words, they only served as background noise to the pounding of your heart and the squelching of your cunt each time he thrusted. Babbles of his name left your lips but that wasn’t what he needed to hear, he needed to hear the words fall from your lips, he needed you to say you were his. He snaked a hand up from your waist to wrap around your throat and squeeze down on the sides. “Say you’re mine.” The head of his cock hit your g spot repeatedly and each time you tried to gather the words, they were instantly replaced with a cry of his name. He squeezed down a little tighter, just enough to make you suck in a deep breath whenever he let go. “I said, say you’re mine.” He spoke through gritted teeth and his tone made you clench around his cock. You were already on the brink of a second orgasm and his tone alone was almost enough to send you over the edge.

“I’m yours, Chifuyu. I’m all yours.” His hips snapped into yours as the final word left your lips, serving in his mind as confirmation and validation for his thoughts and desires. He kept his hand wrapped around your throat while his other hand gripped your hip tighter. He started driving his hips into yours at a brutal pace, his heavy balls slapping against your ass each time he bottomed out and the head of his cock slammed into your g spot. You were sent over the edge again, his name tumbling from your lips like a prayer and he was your god. He was sent into his orgasm soon after, his sticky cum filling you entirely and even leaked out around his cock, dripping onto the desk and some of the papers underneath your ass.

“We made such a mess” he chuckled and leaned down to kiss you passionately then slowly pulled out of you, which added more cum to the mess that was already spilling out. He bent down to grab your panties and helped bring them up your legs to try to keep as much cum inside you as he could. He helped you sit up and pressed a kiss to your forehead before picking his briefs and pants up. “I’ll go grab some tissues to clean up this mess and then we can go grab dinner nearby.” You nodded at his words and smiled at him. “Sounds perfect, thank you.”

He walked out of the conference room to head to one of the nearby bathrooms for paper towels. Once inside he checked his phone and went to an app he recently installed. As it opened up he was able to see the footage of you hopping off the table to dress yourself. He rewinded the footage to see him fucking you then saved the footage to a private folder on his phone. “All according to plan.”

What you weren’t aware of was that he had planned everything to the finest detail. Before anyone was in the office he took the time to install a hidden camera that would give him a perfect view of when he fucked you. Throughout the month he kept you in for late nights and he would stay behind just typing nothing at his computer just so he could get that much closer to you. He had a feeling you were attracted to him but he just had to keep you behind to make sure the attraction was there before he striked.

Now that he finally had you, he was going to do whatever he had to do to keep you.

#venushits4k #chifuyu smut #tr smut #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo rev smut #chifuyu matsuno smut #tw:unprotected sex #tw:creampie #tw:noncon element #hehe I’m out of my lil writing slump :))#tw:choking #tw:possessiveness #tw:overstimulation

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justinspoliticalcorner · 6 days

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Noah Berlatsky at Public Notice:

During Donald Trump’s first term, Republicans dismissed well-founded concerns that he wouldn’t leave office willingly as “silly.” And then January 6 happened. Trump’s coup attempt wasn’t an aberration. If he returns to power, it’s likely he and his minions will push to abolish the 22nd Amendment and its maximum of two terms for presidents — in fact Project 2025 is already scheming to do just that. And you don’t have to take it from us. Just listen to the man himself. Last weekend, Trump gave a speech to the NRA where he openly mused about serving three or more terms. “FDR, 16 years … he was four terms. I don’t know, are we going to be considered three terms or two terms, you tell me?” Trump here, as elsewhere, presents his assault on the Constitution and rule of law as a kind of semi-coherent joke. But looking at his history and plans for the future, his fantasies about making himself ruler for life don’t seem very funny.

Trump loves fantasizing about becoming America’s Putin

After much debate among the founders, presidential terms were originally fixed as four year terms with no limits on reelection. George Washington, the first president, resigned after his second term rather than seeking reelection. The presidents who followed Washington all followed his lead and did not seek a third term. Over the years there was considerable debate about whether to formalize the two-term norm. The question took on additional urgency when Franklin Roosevelt sought and won a third term in 1940 and then a fourth in 1944 before dying in office in 1945. Republicans and conservative Southern Democrats were determined that there should never be another FDR, and they managed to pass the 22nd Amendment, which formally imposed a two-term limit. Whether you think that’s good policy or not, Trump’s interest in serving three or more terms has nothing to do with the merits and everything to do with his desire to become America’s Putin.

Trump’s signaled for years that he likes the idea of holding onto the presidency for as long as he can. While he was in office, he floated the idea that he could serve more than two terms semi-regularly. During a July 2019 Turning Point USA conference in DC, for instance, someone yelled out from the crowd, “President for life!” Trump chuckled and replied, “That’s what they’re afraid of, you know.”

Trump kept dreaming of an eternal MAGA rein as the 2020 campaign heated up. In January of that year, during a CNBC interview, Trump mused, “President Xi — president for life, okay? It’s not bad.” In February, immediately after being acquitted in his first impeachment, Trump shared a video which showed campaign posters for a Trump 2044 run — essentially a fantasy of rule by Trump eternal. By August 2020, Trump came up with a reason he deserved three terms — the Russia investigation. He said during a rally in Wisconsin that he’d win a second term “and then after that, we’ll go for another four years because they spied on my campaign. We should get a redo of four years.”

[...]

Of course, no one spied on Trump’s campaign; he was complaining because the investigation into Russian influence on the 2016 election implicated his campaign. In any case, the Constitution doesn’t give presidents a “redo” term if they feel they’ve been treated unfairly. Trump was, as usual, just rummaging around in his backbrain for some garbled excuse to justify his limitless lust for power. Trump sycophants have picked up the hint and started to lay the “intellectual” groundwork for giving Trump the third (and fourth, and fifth) term he wants. In March, Peter Tonguette at the American Conservative argued that the 22nd Amendment is an “arbitrary restraint on presidents who serve nonconsecutive terms.”

[...]

Americans don’t like dictatorship. Remind them of that.

Trump running in 2028, and 2032, and on and on, MAGA without end, is a terrifying thought — and not just for Democratic partisans. Democratic and Republican strategists have both found that undecided voters are very concerned that Trump would not step down in 2028. It’s a fear that consistently pushes voters towards Biden. Democrats have so far not focused much attention on the possibility that Trump will never leave office. But maybe they should. Forcing Trump to talk more about his 2028 plans can only discredit him. Voters need to be reminded that the only way to ensure that Trump doesn’t rule for life is to vote him down now, before he gets into position to abolish the horserace, the Constitution, and any vestige of democracy we have left.

Noah Berlatsky wrote in Public Notice that Donald Trump’s plan to circumvent the 2-term limit for the Presidency isn’t a joke, but a serious authoritarian power grab to turn our nation into Russia.

#Donald Trump #Term Limits #Authoritarianism #Trumpism #22nd Amendment #Project 2025 #US Constitution

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glimmerglanger · 2 years

Text

It's so hot here and you know what that means. Oh yes. That's right. Swim instructor codywan au.

Wherein Cody knows that Jango is, once again, parentifying him by dropping taking care of Boba's and Omega's swim lessons in his lap. He knows he should care, but, as soon as they walk into the pool for the first lesson - on opening weekend! - he doesn't.

Because that's when he sees their swim teacher. He was picturing, for some reason, some granny type with purple hair and a deep tan. But no.

No.

Obi-Wan, as he introduces himself, is one of the lifeguards and he's about Cody's age and his shoulders are unfairly broad and there's some reddish hair on his stomach and he must go through a HELL of a lot of sunscreen, that pale and working as a LIFEGUARD and also Cody is in love with him.

So much so that, after the lessons, when the kids drag Obi-Wan over to talk and he says how well they did and the Cody must be very proud and other things in his delightful accent, Cody says he's really impressed because he never learned to swim as well as he'd like.

HE NEVER LEARNED. TO SWIM. AS WELL AS HE'D LIKE.

(Technically, he reassures himself, thinking about the awards he won for the under 18 triathalon back home, before they moved across country, this is not a lie. He'd wanted to be Olympic level and he never got there. )

From another point of view, it is DEFINITELY a lie. One that makes Obi-Wan look at him and make a sweet, understanding face, and say he helps adult swimmers, too! (Cody glows a little more at that. He's not quite graduated but he's felt like an adult since his mom died.)

He waits for either Boba or Meg to call him on it as he sets up a time to come "improve his stroke" (God, he's going to be working on his stroke AS SOON AS HE GETS HOME) but they don't. Just watching him.

He distrusts this display of familial solidarity, its not how things work in the Fett house, and with good reason. He realizes as soon as they go properly to the pool, and everyone else goes to dive in the deep end, right in front of one Obi-Wan Kenobi, that he has screwed himself.

Because Obi-Wan thinks he can't swim. And Obi-Wan is at the pool *all the time*. And when he isn't, Cody still can't risk it, because what if one of the other lifeguards *tell him*.

Boba and Meg are laughing at him. Every time.

Still, going to the pool is not without benefits. Obi-Wan is always around, giving Cody plenty of time to admire his....back and to wish his bright red shorts would slip just a little lower.

Once, Cody happens to be sitting in the perfect position as Obi-Wan climbs out of the pool after doing laps, the water PLASTERING his shorts to his body, and it would be bad enough that Cody goes "Nghh" at the sight, except some blond girl his age who he's never met before goes "Cheers to that, my man, best part of summer," and Cody wants to DIE.

(This is BEFORE he "improves" enough to get involved in a game of chicken while Obi-Wan is off duty and, for the first time in his life, gets to be the partner sitting ON the other person's shoulders. He once again nearly perishes!)

#Codywan #Pool au #Idk im not going anywhere with this #The idea just makes me giggle

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highqueenofelfhame · 1 year

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idk if this is good i just wrote it and didn’t edit it IDK MAN IDK WHAT THIS IS i hope you enjoy it tho xo

rowaelin // 1820 words

It wasn’t the first time Aelin had cursed her socialite lifestyle, and she knew it wouldn’t be the last, but she really hated that a full camera crew was filming every second of Aedion and Lysandra’s wedding tonight.

Not because she didn’t want the event well documented. This footage would immortalize their love for each other in a beautiful way and there wasn’t a doubt in her mind that she would never be able to watch it back and not shed a healthy amount of tears. If anything, she was grateful for that aspect of how chaotic their lives tended to be. What she wasn’t looking forward to seeing was Rowan Whitethorn’s face sneaking in and out of frame while he enjoyed the party.

Aelin could deal with everything this night threw at her, but she hated that she kept catching glimpses of the top of his silver head over everyone else’s, or that he looked unfairly delicious in a dark, forest green tuxedo that fit his frame perfectly. She hated the feeling of his gaze on her when she wasn’t looking, and she especially hated when they made eye contact from opposite sides of the dance floor.

The option to disappear completely wasn’t on the table. As maid of honor, she had duties to fulfill and knew there would be a million and one rumors about her having a falling out with Lys or Aedion. Though they laughed about all that outrageously ridiculous gossip, she refused to have that trump the day that was solely about them.

So instead of trying to make herself blend into the background or hiding in the bathroom, she had taken to being keenly aware of where Rowan was at all times so that she could easily avoid bumping into him and having to talk to him at all. So far, through the ceremony and the first leg of the reception, it was a success. Her shitty relationship drama wasn’t going to muddy up the wedding, especially when Rowan and Aedion had only recently began to speak after two years of radio silence on Aedion’s part.

Their breakup had been very public. More than one episode of the reality show that followed the scandalous lives of Orynth’s elite had featured her crying over everything she and Rowan had lost. Though she never watched the show unless she was feeling sentimental, she especially avoided the clips from that part of her life. It was a chapter she had slammed shut, and she refused to look back on any of it. Not yet, anyway.

Truthfully, Aelin didn’t like thinking about it because she always tried to look back on it with rose colored lenses. There were many nights that she lay awake, watching her ceiling fan spin in spirals while trying to avoid a mental one of her own.

It wasn’t that anything truly terrible had been the reason for their breakup. Rowan’s career simply took off and, in the process of a blooming music career, their relationship had taken the backseat. He got too busy, long distance was hard, and they had grown apart.

Except she didn’t feel like she was the one that drifted away. Even with oceans between them, she made her best efforts to show up when it mattered to him, to talk to him as much as she could despite a busy schedule of her own. And then one night while they lay in bed on a rare weekend he had free to visit her in Orynth, she’d whispered the words that shattered her heart and crushed her soul: I can’t do this anymore.

It was all too hard, too much. It felt as though they had gone from being madly in love and bordering on obsessed with each other to struggling to hold a conversation. Rowan was often exhausted from long days of travel, rehearsals, or shows. Aelin worked hard, long days between filming the show and working on her designs for the next season.

Rowan had tried to fight her on the breakup, insisting that things would get better, but neither of them could figure out the when and the how. He had begged, made promises that she knew he couldn’t keep, and swore up and down, left and right, that he would be better and more present. But after months of drifting, she couldn’t see the shore anymore. By the time she said it out loud, there was nothing he could say or do that would fix it. Aelin had made up her mind and waited until she couldn’t handle it anymore. And then she just… shut down.

It had caused a big falling out with their friend group. A few had been on his side, a few on hers. Aedion was blindly loyal to Aelin and cut ties with Rowan almost immediately after watching her slowly crumble from heartbreak. It had only been three months ago when he’d tentatively asked her how she would feel if Rowan was at the wedding.

“Aedion, it’s not about me. You used to be best friends. If you want him there, then he should be there,” she told him, squeezing his hands as she spoke. Aelin had even told him early on he should invite Rowan, something he had shot down at the time. But as time went on Aelin could see it was bothering him. That getting married without his best friend since he could walk at least in the room would leave a single piece of happiness missing on the best day of his life. Of course she had insisted he be invited. It wasn’t about her, that was the truth.

But seeing him had been more painful than she had anticipated, even five years later, and she was tired of knowing where he was in the room at any given millisecond. As she had the thought, their eyes locked across the dancefloor and she quickly turned to find anything else to do than be caught in a staring contest with the love of her life. Instead of walking away, though, she slammed into the hard body of her cousin.

“Where are you off to in such a hurry?” He teased, steadying her with his hands on her shoulders. Aelin conjured up one of her infamous mischievous smirks as she gestured toward the open bar.

“Where else?”

“The dance floor. You owe me a dance.” At those words, her heart softened and she patted his cheek, taking his arm and allowing him to pull her into the center of their dancing friends. A slow song that sounded vaguely familiar drifted through the speakers as they fell into a relaxed carriage, Aedion leading them in slow circles.

“Our mothers are probably weeping over this,” she joked, eyes scanning the crowd once more to where Evalin and Aerin stood arm and arm with their husbands. The matriarchs had their phones already pointed to the cousins and deep laughter rumbled from Aedion’s chest. Aelin stuck her tongue out toward the two women, her mother shooting her a flat look over the top of her phone before she let herself be swept back into the moment with the man who was so much like a brother to her. “I’m really proud of you, you know.”

“I think you’re going to take that back in about ten seconds.” As Aelin’s brows wrinkled in confusion, Aedion spun her around and– let go of her hand that was quickly caught by someone else.

The easy, relaxed posture she had with Aedion disappeared almost immediately as she scowled at him over her shoulder. He mouthed an apology, one that she mentally flushed down the toilet, and turned around to stare at the bowtie tied around Rowan’s neck.

There was no need to look up to know it was him. Aelin knew the callouses that scarred his fingers and palms, knew his warm smell of pine and snow. Her entire body was rigid while he led her in a slow dance as the song played on. Everyone around them had definitely clocked the encounter, and Aelin caught Lys smacking Aedion’s shoulder while he held his hands up defensively.

The worst part about the entire thing was how badly she wanted to relax into his body, his touch. She wanted the hand that rested on her side to slip to her exposed lower back and hold her closer. It made her want to cry, but she exhaled slowly and willed her emotions to simmer instead of breaking the dam she had so carefully built around anything that had to do with Rowan.

“I’m sorry for ambushing you,” he finally said, his thumb soothingly stroking soft circles over the bare skin of her ribs.

“I doubt that,” she replied, finally lifting her eyes to meet his. Rowan’s lips twitched like he was fighting a smile. Aelin frowned.

“I’m a little sorry,” he amended, eyes sparkling in the low, twinkling lights that surrounded them. Aelin didn’t say anything, shifting her eyes to the dark green fabric of his suit instead of the piercing green of his eyes. It maybe made her a shitty dance partner, but she couldn’t get her body to relax. Every muscle was stiff, even her fingers where they rest on his arm. Her nails were pressed into the skin of his hand where he held it, but it didn’t seem enough to push him away. “You look beautiful tonight.”

“Maybe you should have told me that more often before,” she quipped, unable to keep her mouth shut. Typical.

“I should have.” Surprise must have flashed on her face, because he nodded, letting out a sigh. “I should have done a lot of things that I didn’t do, that I stopped doing. I should have tried harder.”

“I don’t want to rehash our old bullshit at Aedion’s wedding,” she said tightly, jaw clenching over every word he said. “Time and place, Rowan. I know you were never good at that, but–”

“I’m sorry.” Aelin stilled at his words, something about hearing them now threatening to break down every wall she had built where he was concerned. “For all of it, Fireheart. You deserved better than what I gave you that last year. You deserve more than that. I was young and stupid, and I’m sorry. I never meant–”

“It’s a little late for all of that, Rowan.” Aelin pulled her hand from his and stumbled out of his arms, catching the bicep of a college friend of her cousin’s to steady herself. She wouldn’t fall, not with the way Rowan had immediately caught her hips to keep that from happening.

“Ace–” He started, but she shoved his hands off of her and held up her hand to stop him.

Without another glance over her shoulder, Aelin gathered the bottom of her gown in her fist and disappeared from the dance floor with a burning hole in her heart.

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junkissed · 1 year

Text

finals season

day one of junkissed's svt seasons greetings event

member — tutor!seungcheol x student!reader genre — fluff, mild angst, hurt/comfort ?, college au word count — 2k synopsis — getting a degree isn't easy. fortunately, your tutor that you maybe have a crush on is here to help. warnings — frat president!cheol, mentions of math (yes this is a warning), mutual crushes but they’re both kinda idiots, friends (?) to lovers, really awkward confession scene oops, there's 2 screenshots at the beginning bc i wanted to! notes — lowercase intended; honestly idk how this happened i promise the rest won’t be angsty like this sjdgkfs it was supposed to be cute but then my brain just kept chugging so. um enjoy !

one reblog = one snowy frat party

you sigh and stand up off the couch, wrapping your scarf around your neck. as much as you hated doing math, you always seemed to jump at the chance to study with seungcheol. the weather had made you reluctant to leave the comfort of your home, but the promise of coffee (and your unfairly attractive tutor) was more than enough to lure you out of the house for a couple hours.

even though your major had almost nothing to do with math, you’re still required to take so many credits of the subject to meet your requirements.

you shrug on your coat and grab your backpack in the dark, shoving your laptop and charger in with notebooks and folders. turning to take one last look around to make sure you aren’t forgetting anything, you shut the door quietly and lock it.

the lady working the shift at the front desk smiles and waves as you walk through the lobby of your apartment complex. “where are you headed?” she asks, setting down her nail file.

“tutoring,” you say, pulling the strap of your backpack higher up your shoulder.

“ooh, that hot guy that comes through here every thursday?”

you giggle. “yeah.”

“well, good luck, baby,” she grins, giving you a very indiscreet wink. “have fun with you man!”

“no– we’re not together,” you explain, feeling your cheeks start to heat in embarrassment. not that you don’t want to be together. you don’t even know if he’s single or not.

“not yet! you never know!”

“i’ll see you later,” you laugh, walking out the front door with a wave behind you.

seungcheol’s house is on the other end of campus where the fraternity houses are. it’s not a far walk, but with the snow still coming down heavily you decide not to risk showing up at his door looking like a total mess. so instead of walking like you usually do, you wait at the bus stop outside your apartment, rushing to find a place under the overhang with a crowd of other students waiting to get to class.

fifteen minutes later, you step off the bus, trudging through the quickly growing piles of snow on the ground up to the door of cheol’s apartment.

it’s only friday afternoon, but lambda phi epsilon is already gearing up for whatever party they’re hosting this weekend. you can hear faint music playing from one of the houses across the street. you wonder why cheol, the current president of the frat, isn’t over there with them, but you don’t dwell on the thought.

you smooth down your jacket and check your hair in the reflection of your phone screen, then take a deep breath and knock twice.

the door swings open immediately, revealing your tutor dressed in his… pajamas. you almost choke, your eyes falling to his flannel pants and collared pajama shirt, the top buttons undone revealing an expanse of smooth skin. the material looks soft, so soft, and you have to physically restrain yourself from reaching out to touch him.

“hey! come on in, it’s cold out there,” he smiles warmly. you snap back to attention, drawing your gaze back up to his face.

“thanks,” you manage, stepping inside. “you look, um. comfortable.”

“i love the snow,” he explains. “perfect weather to stay inside and get cozy for the weekend.”

you raise your eyebrows. “you’re not going to the party later?”

“no?” he questions. “why, are you going?”

your cheeks flare. “no, i’m– work,” you laugh awkwardly as the entirety of the english language disappears from your brain.

he smiles. “cool. you can stay as long as you want, then, i don’t have plans. we can work until you have to leave.”

“sounds great,” you squeak out.

oh, it’s gonna be a long night.

but the night isn’t as long as you thought it would be. it actually goes by pretty quickly, once you sit down and start working. as distracting as seungcheol is, you’ve really gotta learn these concepts before your final.

after many tutoring sessions you’d already figured out that cheol is insanely smart, but it never occurred to you before just how smart he is. not only does he understand the material, he understands it enough to explain everything in a way that makes sense to you— something your teachers could never do. everything just seems to click in your brain when he tells you things like why the angle of elevation is below the shape and not above it. hell, he’s even made his own practice problems for you that aren’t in your book, and after hours of teaching you get them all right, all on your own.

“try using this equation,” he says, gently nudging your elbow.

“huh?” you realize you’ve been staring at him and you whip your eyes back down to the workbook in front of you, embarrassed to be focusing on him and not the actual reason you’re here.

what is the reason you’re here? you wonder, your mind wandering. you went to the math department and signed up for a tutor, and a week later you met him in a private corner of the library to get help before your exam. and after a while, you started meeting him at your apartment, because your sessions ran long after the library had closed for the night. and now you’re sitting in his living room, contemplating every life decision you’ve made up until this point and wondering how the hell you ended up studying triangles with him in his pajamas.

he calls your name again, and you turn your head to look at him. but when you make eye contact, you suddenly feel the overwhelming urge to cry.

“do you wanna stop for now? we’ve been on this for a while, we can switch to something else if you want,” he asks. his eyes are full of concern at the sudden way you’ve stopped responding.

how did you end up falling in love with him?

“i… i think i should go home now,” you choke out. your throat feels like it’s closing up from the effort it takes not to burst into tears in the middle of his house.

“oh,” he says quietly. “are you sure? i have more practice problems for you, here, you can take–”

“why are you so nice to me?” you say abruptly.

he pauses. “i– what?”

“our study sessions go way past the hour set by the university, you make practice problems for me, you invite me to your house in your pajamas. you don’t have to do any of that. you get paid no matter what. why?”

his gaze shifts around the room, from the workbook still lying open on the table to the posters on his wall behind you. “i’m sorry about… this,” he says finally. “we can meet in the library again if you don’t like meeting here. and i would’ve changed, if i knew the pajamas made you uncomfortable.”

“it’s not the pajamas,” you whisper.

“sorry?” he says, not hearing you.

“it’s not the pajamas,” you repeat, louder this time. “it’s you. i… i don’t think i need a tutor anymore,” you say.

your vision begins to blur with tears when you hear him say softly, “okay.”

you grab your things and pack your backpack in record time. cheol holds the door open for you as you shrug your bag onto your shoulder.

“i’ll, uh, talk to the tutoring advisor and tell her you don’t need help anymore,” he says awkwardly as you rush out the door.

“goodbye, cheol,” you say, and turn down the steps to leave.

the sound of the door closing quietly behind you is what finally breaks you. tears stream down your face, burning your skin in contrast to the freezing air.

the snow had stopped while you’d been in his house, slowly turning into slush. you plop down on the sidewalk, not even caring that you’re sitting in a puddle of dirt and ice. not only had you just lost your free homework help, you’ve lost a friend who might’ve maybe been something more, if you hadn’t panicked and run off at the first thought of him.

your nose starts to run and you cry harder, wiping your nose against your sleeve, but it does nothing. you sit on the curb outside in the cold for so long you start shivering, but you don’t have the motivation to get up. a part of you doesn’t want to leave, and you don’t know why.

without the extra practice from cheol, you’ll probably bomb your final, which means having to take even more classes for even more credits next semester.

you hear a squeak behind you, but you don’t look back. whatever it is, it doesn’t matter.

“are you okay?”

a familiar voice calls out, and you force yourself to turn around.

“i mean, you don’t look okay,” he adds. “you’re sitting in front of my house, in the snow.”

you hadn’t even noticed it had started to snow again. “oh.”

“do you want to come inside?” he asks gently.

“no,” you answer immediately, but the cold is starting to get to you. “yes.”

he smiles, and just that makes you feel better. he moves out of the middle of the doorway, leaving room for you to come inside.

you stand up, trying to wipe the snow from your backside, and walk back into his house.

a pot of coffee is already steaming on the countertop, and he pours a mug and hands it to you. “why were you sitting in front of my house, in the snow?” he asks after a moment, giving you a minute to warm up.

“i don’t know,” you admit, sniffling. he hands you a tissue. where did he get that?

as you start to calm down and take in your surroundings, you notice he’s changed into jeans and a sweater.

“you didn’t have to change,” you say quietly.

“i know,” he says. “i, uh… i decided i’m going to the party later.”

“oh.”

“yeah.”

the tension in the room is almost unbearable, but you purposely ignore it, bringing his mug to your lips to drink with shaky hands.

“what did you mean, ‘it’s me’?” he says finally. “what you said earlier.”

you swallow. no running away this time.

“well. um. because you’re too good. at everything.” you close your eyes and sigh. “you’re good at math and you’re good at tutoring and you’re a good person.”

“oh?” he asks cautiously. “is that… a bad thing?”

“i don’t know,” you say,. “i don’t know. you’re too nice to me. i can’t figure it out.”

he smiles, and his hand moves at his side, as if he wants to reach out and touch you, but he stays put. “i–” he swallows. “i think you’re really great. and nice. and i wanted to, i guess, get to know you better. that’s why i suggested meeting outside the library. and why i help you so much. because i do want to help you, but, uh…” he trails off, staring at his feet. “i also want more than that.”

“you do?”

he looks up at you nervously, waiting to see if your reaction is good or bad.

“i also want more than that, i think,” you say quietly.

"do– do you wanna stay for a little while?" he asks, glancing out the window. "it's started snowing again."

you smile. "yeah."

his face brightens. "we can order food or watch tv, or– we could keep studying, whatever you want," he says shyly.

"i thought you were going to the party?"

"nah," he grins. "i’d rather stay right here.”

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plasticfangtastic · 4 days

Text

Cozy Corner Domaystic

Prompts– 30. Doing the dishes, 11. Unexpected gift– sort of, alt. prompt ‘Oh what is this?’

Lemon Scented Mess

A Butchie fanfic

Tags: light smut, takes places between s3/s4 so spoilers for s3/s4, cheating, vers Butcher, vers Hughie, both r bi, depressive.

word count: 3.9K

A/N: apply just porn logic to this fic, could not for the life of me find a gif of Butcher's ass... 1st time writing a Butchie fic so am sorry if this feels butchlander for some reason.

Is an odd sense of responsibility that keeps him here– since they met that night at the electronic store he’s been bound to Butcher, following him like a starved dog craving his endless attention unconsciously… his approval and praise… Butcher was this larger than life figure. Everywhere he walked he pulled everything with his own magnetic field, violently changing everything to suit him.

Hughie had sunk and disappointed the ghost of his grandparents with all he’s done– all he’s done to impress this Englishman… even if he’d never said it outloud.

Annie would chastise him for going so far to impress this bastard all the time, which he would vehemently deny at every turn as he continue lying to himself, it had begun to leave their relationship in tethers and frankly he was doing this to avoid couples therapy… Worse was that he was the one who suggested it in the first place. So instead of doing that– he was helping Butcher do his laundry.

Some days he wished he had never brought over a weekend bag– between the medication and the side-effects medication, the excessive smoking and drinking, the quirks and general crudeness Butcher wasn’t an easy roommate much less patient… unbearable was the better word, on the good days he was back to his gruff usual self which was well… Billy.

Hughie woke up with a sore back, sleeping on Butcher’s sofa wasn’t completely terrible, it was just too small for him, Butcher had casually suggested buying a fold-out couch for Hughie and if his back ache any harder he might take in his offer but in the meantime he didn’t want Butcher to worry for him when there was so much on their plate already.

As he hopped off the sofa his feet move on their own heading straight to the kitchen before he can even take a piss, he has to force Butcher to take his medication if not he’ll grind it into his tea, it feels as if he’s medicating a stubborn dog, but its now just routine for him, but he doesn’t have to do a thing this morning-- Butcher’s already in the kitchen, his teeth loudly grinding on his pills as he groans at the bitter taste before washing it down with chamomile then washing that away with what’s left of the ciggy in his hands.

Not that Hughie is really paying attention to his unhealthy breakfast for all he’s trying to ignore is the nudity.

One thing he’s learned since forcing himself to live with Butcher… is that the man refused to change his ways, he slept bare– no matter how cold he got, he just added another throw blanket or raised the thermostat.

At first it made him uncomfortable, made him squeal like an embarrassed teenage girl but now he had to hide his prolonged peeking.

As Butcher paraded himself out the kitchen, hughie had to do everything in his power to subdue the moan caught in his throat as he caught a closer glimpse of that thick veiny cock, Butcher was unfairly endowed, everything about him was unfair, sick and dying but he didn’t skip a workout, still looking strong despite a tumor in his brain– broad shoulders, hung, gruff hands and hairy chest… the complete opposite of himself, it made him feel more inadequate than envious… and terribly horny too.

He was unlike any man he’s met before, certainly nothing like his father or his old friends… he was crude machismo with an accent.

He wondered if they were going to do anything today, he’d already blew off his doctor’s appointment yesterday, he’s visited his aunt and his dog earlier this week, and he’s done their groceries already, work had been done and he’s only home today because he’s been puking all day yesterday from the dizziness.

“How are you feeling today?” he says loudly as he serves himself some tea.

“Like I’m dying. Just not feeling it today…” Butcher ties his gray sweatpants loosely around his hips as he comes back from his bedroom– You could go see your lady, I’ll be alright.”

“You forgot she left for Chicago yesterday, she’s doing that charity thing she told you about– so Annie won’t be back till wednesday.” He gulps as Butcher slumps on the couch, wrapping himself on Hughie’s blanket– I’ll call her later…”

Butcher raises his eyebrow but says nothing as he grabs the remote control.

“Oh… well I’m going to finally start watching Bridgerton so you’re free to join me!” he says with disappointment– we can cuddle.” his shit eating grin is more annoying than usual.

“I’ll pass… the cuddling that’s it.”

Hughie can’t say he wants to watch it but he doesn’t quite want to leave Butcher either… he’s not sure where it began, when did he started devouring him in his mind, he’s always been improper with him, saying things that would give a nun a stroke, they shared a lot together, poisoned and tainted their souls together, nearly died by each other sides as much as they’ve fought one another– it made them close… now instead watching some posh drama with a miserable old man, he’s ogling him… those weird remarks now stuck to him, deep down he knows is probably this sense of dreadful captivity driving him mad, sharing his space, sharing everything from plates to towels… making the older man dependant on him as he was too much of a brute to stick to his regime, it felt good to make that stubborn man do as he’s told, it felt good to force Butcher to appreciate him.

He finds him too relaxed, too vulnerable– he can’t forget that he was stroking his cock underneath that blanket a few hours ago thinking of those rough hands squeezing his neck after too many brews, his sluggish words hidden behind a thickened accent, his body pressed so tightly against him all he can focus is his scent, the spicy sweetness of his skin, the strong aroma of tobacco staining his fingers and whisky souring his lips, of the thought of those plump lips doing more than curse.

Sometimes Hughie thinks that he’s still high on temp V, that that poison damaged his brain in ways the doctor’s had missed.

For that’s the only excuse he gives himself when he wakes up from his trance, staring at the happy trail peeking from those loose gray trousers, at the shape of his cock as it lays defendless.

He squeezes his legs, pretending he’s being pushed away by Butcher selfishly taking all the space, his ears heating up as he accepts his losing battle of wills against his own penis, he jerks off every night but is not enough… ever since that disastrous battle against Soldier Boy back in the tower, him and Annie had been in a slump, sexb was out of the question, at most they gave each other head but it wasn’t enough, did he missed her so much (her body at least) he now projected his pent-up desires to the next domineering person in his life.

Butcher briefly looked away from the screen as he sensed the weight shift throughout the cushions, looking down catching those long legs squeeze, snickering at the sight, counting the minutes before the young lad runs to the bathroom and disappears for ten minutes or so, looking down to hide the blush on his cheeks as ifs not painted on his ears.

Rubbing his feet against the younger man’s thigh, teasing him knowing he’s pent up and frustrated, his mind going places that he knows he shouldn’t– Billy just doesn’t care anymore, there’s a timer above him running out of sand afterall. William knows that it’s wrong to cross the line, he knew the moment he stopped seeing Lenny on his skin, the moment he stopped being his canarie as the others so sweetly put it– the first time he stood up to him, that he wanted him.

It gave him a rush, he wanted to break the boy once more, subdue him, he liked the obedient pretty boy who unspokenly wished to please him, to gain his approval but who still had a spark inside him.

Yet as his clock ran out of sand, a part of him… as sick as it was wanted to leave him scarred with himself.

Blurred lines, confusing flirtations hidden behind jokes, touches that lingered a second too long were his weapon of choice.

As the younger man excused himself, moving quickly to hide that throbbing boner, Butcher waits until the lock clicks before milking himself.

Mouth parting as soft gasps hide themselves behind his sheet, huffing the boy’s shampoo, his perfume coating him, as women bicker in the back his mind plays an x-rated film… poor little Hughie spreading himself, glistening fingers, pre-cum spilling down his thin thighs, his heaving chest, mewling after him, biting his lips so hard they’re left purple as Butcher leaves handprints on each cheek.

He cums before his own fantasy self even gets to cum, he would complain but he knows he doesn’t have a lot of time before Hughie’s done so he rushes to the kitchen to wash his hand.

In the Bathroom is the same scene yet it looks more desperate, his movie more unrealistic.

Hughie hands pulling on those raven locks, pushing the man down his length, nails clawing down his thighs as he chokes on his cum… Hughie moans into his chest, as his own fantasy gives him a shit eating grin, his Butcher letting his thick seed gloss his plump lips, playful licks as he washes the umami off him, crying for more, demanding Hughie roughens him more

He needs to leave the house is his first clear thought.

He needs to go get laid for real before he finds himself doing something his and Annie’s therapist won’t be able to amend.

He could never tell Annie any of these fantasies, but even in the dead of night when the only sound is that of the city around him, her face fades and it is him that consumes him.

He bets he tastes salty and tarty, he bets he’s strong and mainly in a way he could never achieve, in a way that most girls would find icky but that will get him called a faggot by the older man for enjoying.

As he flushes the paper trail, he looks at the cheapest plane ticket to Chicago on his phone, he should go surprise Annie, bringing peace offerings and pray to any listening God that Annie will fuck him… and to the gods who aren’t listening that they will stop him from muttering ‘Billy’ as he makes a mess of himself.

Butcher chucks his phone aside as Hughie comes back from the restroom.

“I ordered some chinese.” He says quietly– Marina got a proposal… quite a salacious offer in my opinion.”

“Oh…” Hughie couldn’t point out Marina in a line-up even if there was a gun to his head– that’s cool… cool.”

“You okay lad? Do I’ve got to call the plumber or sum’thing?” He jokes– just looking a little flustered there, luv.”

“I’m good!” His eyes widened– just glad you’re eating something today, barely got you to keep the soup last night.”

“I think I gotta tell the doc to change my meds…”

“Or maybe we shouldn’t be self-medicating with ketamine and god knows what else” he grumbles.

“Okay mom.”

He at least begins to pay attention to the drama happening to these siblings, he’s sure that Annie would like this show which makes him feel more guilty than jerking off to somebody else.

Food arrives and he knows this is too much food but at least the man seems to be eating without problem.

He would’ve relaxed and calmed down had he not played him so dirty, as they pack their leftovers Butcher offers to wash the dishes, last night’s plates and half drunk teacups still in the small sink.

Water splashing down his stomach, lemon scented foam slides down his forearms, making a lemon scented mess of foam all over the sink edges, he’s needlessly messy, and Hughie can’t stop biting his lip as he sees the wet line on the edge of his sweatpants.

Butcher turns drying his hands on his sides.

Pants soaked, and he thinks he’s funny when he starts pulling on the elastic, showing more of that thick bush concealed inside it.

“I should probably take these off.”

“Please…” His voice is a whimper.

Eyes shot open when he notices he’s thought out loud, he might as well go pick up his plot and suit, his heart is racing so hard and loud he wouldn’t be shocked to learn that Butcher can hear it too.

Butcher doesn’t look horrified in the least, his mouth drops for a second before it turns into a predatory smile, he can see malice in his eyes as he takes a few steps closer, the kitchen too small for the both of them, so close he can feel the heat coming from his chest, he’s seen this grin before and it usually came coated in blood, their feet dance until Hughie is trapped between him and the counters.

Even if the disease had weakened him, he still grabs his wrist with violent strength, ‘he could break his wrist clean’ the panicked voices in his head shout as calloused fingers pull him closer.

“Please, what?” He says with a deep growl.

“...Billy?” he squinted his face not knowing what to do.

“All I can think of right now is ‘Oh what's this?’” He whispers.

Hughie looked down, his own body had betrayed him, the tent in his pants spoke a million words.

“So… what is going on?” He leaned closer, absorbing the gap– did puberty just hit ya?”

His forearm is muscular and veiny, it makes him look dainty by comparison, he gulps as he feels those rugged hands tug at his erection– he knows it's over at this point.

This felt like a porno, like one of his pubescent fantasies like the ones he had with his algebra teacher where he would pin him to his desk and jerk him off, the kind that sprung to mind every time Mr. Sinclair bend over while wearing those tight khakis that were just the wrong size but it didn’t matter ‘cuz it let Hughie see everything in peace but this isn’t Mr. Sinclair hand tugging at his cock… this is his friend… his boss… the guy he should be running away from.

But he doesn’t he’s jerking his hips following the rhythm of the man as he mocks him, he coos, and says dirty insults into his ears, mocking him for leaking like a bitch, chuckling into his neck petting the stain building up at the tip of his tented pajamas.

Butcher was just teasing him but now he’s fully committed to fucking him up.

He wanted to ruin the young man.

He wants him to remember him until his last breath either as a blissful memory or a horror story.

Dying had him thinking wrong.

Made worse by how little Hughie was resisting, watching the boy biting his lips trying to suppress his moans as he squeezed just a little harder, crumbling under his lip as he whispers in his ears.

“Tell me what you want Hughie.” His voice is gentle, almost needy– tell daddy what nasty little things are in yer mind.”

Hughie hands crawl into Butcher’s chest squeezing at his pecs.

“Blow me.”

“No, ‘pretty please’?”

“Sluts don’t deserve manners.”

His hand does fit perfectly around his neck, Hughie learns. Butcher can only but let out a dry chuckle as he sees the determination on the young man, he’s seen this fire before is the same flame that left third degree burns on his ego in the past.

Butcher licks his lips, his hand leave that crying cock before yanking the man’s pants in one drop, Hughie eyes open wide as his stomach sinks and realizes that Butcher is on his knees, before he can make an apology or command, Butcher tongue draws circles on his blushing tip, long strokes drink his precum clean.

His blood runs cold then boils, his whole body burns so high it hurts in the best way possible, as he feels the inside of that mouth.

Butcher sucks with so much force he could’ve sworn he’s stuck his prick on a vacuum cleaner, he’s drooling as the man sucks him with desperation and need, filthy wet sounds echo across the kitchen, toes curling as he looks down at those darkened eyes– glee and delight as Hughie can’t help himself from moaning louder than Butcher ever could, he’s a vocal boy, Butcher learns. His hand finally find a tuft of hair to pull, forcing Butcher to follow his direction, his other hand under his shirt squeezing at his nipple, Butcher’s spare hand is busy teasing Hughie’s skin, his nails sharp�� stroking the tender trembling flesh, squeezing his ass until he knows he’ll leave a bruise.

Slapping the hardened cock on his lips, his smile is more scary than sensual, like he knows he can make him cry if he wanted to.

“I’ll let you cum if you remember your manners, you skinny poof.” His fingers had made a knot at the base of his cock, he gingerly kissed the tip, a playful tease that Hughie can’t fight, he knows he’s at his limit and so does Butcher as he kisses those heavy balls.

Bringing them into the warmth of his mouth as he denies all attention to his member, his tongue swaying side to side, before letting go with a loud pop.

“Oh God! Oh God please William!!”

“What no begging?”

“Fuck you!”

Butcher laughs before choking, Hughie quickly pulls on Butcher’s hair as his mouth gapes to let out a wince, Hughie sticks himself inside it, letting out a loud moan as he feels the warmth again, both hands keep Butcher’s head in place as he turns him into a sleeve, Butcher’s hands growing limp as he just accepts his fate, he’s a trance, a calm wash away him as the young man uses him, a warmth washes over him, he wants Hughie to touch him more, he likes that odd pleasurable feeling everytime his thumb rubs his ears, he likes hearing him grunt as he moans Butcher’s name, going back and forth between ‘William’ and ‘Billy’, it makes his cock tingle.

It comes as a surprise when it rains inside his mouth, its light, the taste slightly sharp, his legs trembling around Butcher, he bucks a few times making sure to leave it all inside Butcher, enjoying every second as his throat clasp around his member.

He looks down as sanity leaves the building so he can admire his work.

Glistening trails connect them, Butcher looks satiated his neck craning as it chases after him, as he pants with exhaustion, Hughie freezes as his tongue touches him again, wanting to clean him not leaving a trace of evidence, making sure he’s taken all that delicious treat for himself.

“I’m going to kill you.” He says as he licks his lip cleans.

“...”

Next thing he knows, he’s been picked up like a potato sack towards the bedroom, the frame almost giving up as he throws him into the firm mattress.

In this light he can see those muscles clearly, that firm body of him hovering on top of him as it rips his shirt off, tearing it without caring it was new, that flushed hairy chest dripping sweat into him, Hughie whines as Butcher tugs on his hair, he never expected to kiss him for the first time after he’d sucked him off first, the rough kiss that gnaws at his lips, that forces its way into his mouth, exploring it eagerly and hungrily, grows needier and softer as Hughie reciprocates, his arms wrapped around broad shoulders, trembling as hardened nubs rub against each other, Hughie kisses like he’s in a romance movie for chicks, moaning against his lips every time Butcher’s hands explore more of him, letting out the sweetest sounds as those sharp nails slide across him, their eyes shut for the most part, just wanting to enjoy the feeling of each other’s bodies, their heat and how amazing it feels to finally give in.

Kissing until jaws are sore but they won’t stop, grindign againts each other until they have to stop just to address the thick puddle in-between them.

“I don’t think we can… y’know go… the whole way…” Hughie sounds apologetic and angry at the same time– I dunno…”

“Is okay, we can do something else” he says softly.

He kisses the younger man’s chin, chewing on his skin leaving hickeys on his neck.

Hughie watchest attentively as the man leaves him for a moment as he takes a large bottle of lube from the side table, flicking the lid open before flipping Hughie around.

“Lift your ass for me baby.” He does as he’s told– damm… who taught youse to arch your back like that? I should send him a christmas card… ” He chuckles lightly.

“What are you gonna do?” He says nervously but equally excited.

“Shhh… just enjoy yourself and follow my lead.”

He squeezes Hughie’s thight’s together, before letting the warm liquid drizzle onto his behind, smiling as he spasm, fingers spreading the lub where it needs to go, teasing his entrance, slick coated fingers dancing across the sensitive skin, drawing esoteric shapes letting the warming lube take a peek inside him, he slathers more in between his thighs and Hughie finally figures what Butcher’s doing when he feels that thick veiny thing rub it's wet tip against his entrance, spreading his boy pussy, kissing him, teasing holy communion, Butcher inhales sharply trying to control himself, hungry to enter him but he will begrudgingly respect him, spreading some lube on his shaft before lowering the tip.

He fucks the gap, his cock leaking onto Butcher’s as it rubs him, as he feels the agonzing tease of being fucked but he’s not fucking him where he wants the most, he feels shame for enjoying this… he wants Butcher to fuck him for real, not to tie his hand around their cocks, the adrenaline is not enough, is simply not enough.

With each rough trust he becomes painfully aware of just the way he’s not being wrecked.

Arching his back more so he can kiss him better, their bodies glued together, as his arm hook themselves around Butcher’s neck.

“You won! please… please fuck me.”

“Who's the slut now?”

“Me! I get it am your slut now fuck me Butcher!” He’s cute when he’s angry, Butcher thinks– geez…”

Hughie is left running out of breath, he has no idea when he found himself bouncing on his cock while the man just soaked the view, Butcher bucking his hips whenever he felt like it, or fucking him mercilessly, he’s cum three times already but he can’t stop his hips, Butcher just teases him in a way that no other man has, the way he bites on his chest, all those awful names he calls him in between passionate kisses, that terribly excite him.

Tender kisses as they both grow tired, as Butcher cums inside him leaving him full.

“I’ll let you have a round with me later…”

Hughie looks up as his body collapses beside him, not understanding the proposition at first.

He looks exhausted but happy, there’s a softness in his expression that Hughie has never witnessed before, Butcher plays with Hughie’s hair as the twink plays with the other’s hairy chest.

It begins as a secret game, neither of them speak a word to the others, not out of fear but because it was theirs, all they offer is the same boring thing, even when he sneaks his hand inside Butcher’s pants to squeeze at his ass, spreading him by tugging at the base of the beads, teasing him as the others turn their backs to them at the office.

Both enjoy the twisted thrill of what’s going on between them.

#cozy corner domaystic #butchie #billy butcher #hughie campbell #the boys fanfic #my fic tag #personal #this is not proof read #might do 1 more fic for domaystic but wont hold me breath #hope yall like this btw

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