#they used two different high schools but yeah one is a catholic school

[rqgnarok]

dial drunk - tommy miller

fandom: the last of us (tv show and video game)

wc: 2,703

warnings: alcoholism and mentions of alcohol abuse, drunk character, maybe PTSD? pre-outbreak. no use of specific pronouns. 

summary: tommy calls you in the middle of the night, hammered and asking for a favor.

inspired by noah kahan’s dial drunk. author’s note at the end.

masterlist / ao3 / ko-fi

Tommy knows the drill.

He’s been here enough times to recognize the officer pulling him over, asking after his wife and kids as he steps out of the truck on unsteady feet. He’s all Southern charm and pleasantries as he fails his breath test and is unable to walk in a straight line for the officer to see. 

“Come on, man,” he says, aiming for placating and pretty much landing it. He’s not his mama’s favorite for nothing, getting out of trouble Joel would’ve been grounded over when he was his age with big cow eyes and flimsy excuses. “Paperwork’s shit, right? Lemme make a call and someone will take me off your hands for the night.”

The officer tightens his mouth into a grimace, unconvinced.

“Look, if this gets nowhere then I’ll ride with you nice and quiet,” he bargains with as much honesty as one can convey when being the youngest boy in a nice Catholic Texan family. There aren’t better credentials than those when pleading your innocence. “I’ll even play it up in front of your boss to make you look good, yeah? Just one call, promise.”

Hook, line, and sinker. The officer’s shoulders drop a little and he’s offering his cell phone for Tommy to call. “One call. Then you’re done.”

“Yessir.”  

Tommy grins innocently as best as he can with double the legal limit of alcohol in his blood and a phone between his ear and shoulder. The man stands there with his arms crossed looking like he’d rather be anywhere but bringing his ass in for a DUI at two AM on a Wednesday.

“‘lo?” you call sleepily, finally picking up. Tommy doesn’t restrain his victorious grunt. “...Tommy?”

“Hey, sweets,” he slurs a little, clearing his throat. “Sorry for wakin’ you. I need a favor.”

“Tommy,” you say again, tired. If Tommy were any less drunk, he’d realize it’s not lack of sleep that has you sounding like that. He’s shitfaced and thinking about the monumental kick in the ass waiting for him at home when Joel realizes he hotwired and stole his truck to get a drink at the nearest bar. 

“I know, I know, listen,” he cuts you off before you can say anything else, sneaking a look at the officer’s crossed arms and disappointed stance. “You remember the way to the precinct, right? From last time?”

Last time, when Tommy got into a brawl outside a bar he was not supposed to be in, and accepted your worried fussing with barely concealed annoyance, gripping your wrists and taking your hands off his bruised face. You’d driven him to your place because he’d promised Joel to steer clear of trouble for at least a few months, and his breath still reeked of alcohol by the time you came to pick him up.  

You told him then you weren’t doing this again. But you always say that. And you always come when he calls.

Your moms had grown up together in Texas and were ecstatic about the fact that their two littlest ones would come into the world so close together. You and Tommy were inseparable because the universe had dictated it– and nothing could interfere between you. Not his dad dying when he and Joel were still too young, not Tommy having to repeat fifth grade and no longer sharing a classroom with you, not you going off to college and Tommy joining the army straight out of high school.

But then he came home. And he came home different.

The shit he’d seen overseas was nasty, but that’s not what drove him to drink himself stupid every night. At least that’s what he thinks. Soon his habits began seeing the light of day; vodka mixed in his morning coffee and hidden in a water bottle during lunch with the boys at the construction site. Life became a blur when he was drinking and an agonizingly slow nightmare when he wasn’t.

Joel wasn’t the first to notice but he’d been the first to say something about it. Next time you come to my home reeking of a cheap ass bar in front of my kid I’m kicking your ass out. I’m serious, Tommy. This shit has to stop. 

And Tommy had believed him. So he turned to the next person he knew that would do anything for him. You came home from college despite your dreams to outrun this town, and soon it was your number he had memorized even when his brain called it quits and left him alone in his blackouts.

“I do,” you say, and Tommy’s already thinking about sleeping it off on your sorry excuse of a couch. It’s a slow night, only a couple of drunken bums sleeping off their hangovers in a quaint police station in fucking Arlington, Texas. But Tommy would take your couch any day, even if it means fucking up his back for the rest of the week. “But I’m not coming to get you, Tommy. Call Joel.”

“Sweetheart,” he croons into the phone, low and mellow like he’d talk to pretty girls at parties in high school. The same ones you’d go to only because he begged you to come with, acting like a jealous boyfriend when someone wouldn’t leave you alone. “Please. I’ll pay you back, you know I’m good for it.”

He’d put a possessive arm around your waist, standing behind you and smiling icily at whoever was pestering you. We got a problem here?

There’s silence at the other side of the line, sheets rustling. Tommy can picture you sitting up, phone to your ear, biting the inside of your cheek nervously. 

More like Joel is, but hey. He took the big brother act to heart the second Tommy was born. He’s been bailing him out of shit as long as Tommy’s been alive, why would tonight be any different?

Joel, who’s always told him, first jokingly and then not so much, that you were too good for Tommy. Too smart, too kind, with too much integrity for someone like his little brother. 

The older Miller had taken a liking to you pretty soon after Tommy did; wiping the dirt off scraped knees and your tears from chubby child cheeks after placing a bandaid with gentle, unsure fingers. Giving you a ride when you insisted on walking home, leaving the back door open for you whenever being home got too rough for you. 

That man knew you’d be the best thing to ever happen to his brother in his entire life. Too bad the idiot didn’t realize it, pushing your limits until you couldn’t take it any longer. 

“I’m not bailing you out of jail, Tommy,” you sigh, annoyance creeping over the hesitation in your tone. You were never good at saying no to him, even when you were both in diapers and Tommy wanted your dinosaur plushie so bad he threw a tantrum until his mom took him in her arms. “When I said last time was the last time, I meant it. I’m sick of this shit.”

“Come on,” he scoffs, saying your name in a way he knows you hate, like you’re the one being unreasonable. “I’ll give you a kiss and everything. You still like that, don’t you?”

“Fuck you,” you snap on the other side of the line. He knows you well enough to know what buttons to push. Reminding you of your first kiss is a trick he’s never, never pulled on you before, though. “Don’t fucking say that, don’t use that against me.”

You’d been seventeen and without a date to the prom. The guy you were thinking about asking had laughed in your face when you offhandedly mentioned going together and Tommy had refused to let you sulk alone. He’d climbed into your room through your window and wrapped his arm around you the second your lip wobbled, tears wetting your cheeks.

Tell me who I have to kill, he’d said before you ever told him what was wrong. He’s always been like that, hot-headed and protective, especially when it comes to you. Willing to fight anyone who’s ever slightly wronged you but not realizing when he’s done it himself.

You laughed into his shirt, snotty and miserable as he tightened his grip around you. Come on, sweets, fuck that guy. Like he’s even good enough for you.

You confessed with a burning embarrassment how you’d seen yourself kissing him– more out of the need to get your first kiss over with than actual want– and Tommy’s face had gone through a bunch of complicated emotions before settling on something sweet, shy, resolute. He’d thumbed at your chin thoughtfully, fingers just barely brushing over your bottom lip. 

Tommy had his first kiss when he was thirteen with Amy Hill behind the church his mother dragged them to every Sunday morning, but you’d never seen him that nervous. He failed to look into your eyes as he stuttered out his suggestion. If you wanna get it out of the way then maybe– I don’t know. Why not do it with someone who actually cares about you?

You’d looked at him in scrutiny as if you’d never taken a good look at him before. He self-consciously thought about his fair skin and his freckles, if his hair was still a mess from football practice, and if his breath smelled somewhat okay after having that sandwich for lunch. 

You offerin’, Miller?

Yeah, he’d said instead of something stupid like haven’t you heard? I’m a catch. He murmured bashfully, finally meeting your eyes. Yeah, sweets, I guess I am.

He’d licked his lips and drew a path with his fingers from your temple to behind your ear before cupping the side of your jaw, breath hot. Just– punch me in the face or something if you don’t want to.

You hadn’t. He’d closed the gap between you and you kissed him back slowly, hesitantly, diving back in again after he drew away. He was too short of breath for a chaste kiss that had lasted a couple of seconds, and the second time around his tongue flickered past his lips. Your hands on his shirt tightened in response, a helpless sound leaving your mouth that neither of you had been expecting. 

He hadn’t known about your crush then. Maybe that’s when it first started, some Tuesday night with a kiss in your childhood bedroom, but Tommy doesn’t remember ever becoming aware of it. He just knew, suddenly, and enough things had happened in the in-between from then to now for him to consider using it against you.

His drunken brain thinks differently, though.

“Don’t be like that, sweets,” the nickname had never bothered you before, born out of Tommy watching too many old movies one night the babysitter failed to show up and Joel fell asleep on the couch. You’d never questioned him when he started calling you that, probably liking it a little too much for it to be a friendly thing between you. “You can act all high and mighty next time, alright? Just come pick me up before Joel realizes he ain’t got a ride for work tomorrow mornin’.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” you curse vehemently. You haven’t been to church in the years you’ve been back from college, much to your mama’s dismay. “You know what? Whatever. That’s Joel’s problem now, not mine. Call him.”

“I’m asking you for a favor,” he says through gritted teeth, suddenly irritated. His characteristic charm is gone just like that. “Why are you being so fucking difficult?”

“I’m done watching you wreck your life, Tommy,” you say with finality. He scoffs pettily. “I’m not picking up again, tonight or ever. Call Joel.” 

A click. Then nothing.

He says your name and the dial tone laughs back at him. And Tommy–

Tommy can’t actually believe it. He takes the phone off his ear and stares at it, dumbfounded, like looking at it long enough will get you back on the line. 

He hears the officer blow air out his mouth and the evening suddenly comes into sharpening clearness; the cold November air biting at his face, the taste of whiskey in his mouth. His hands are sweating from where he’s gripping his phone, the tag of his jacket is rubbing uncomfortably against the back of his neck. 

You’ve never hung up on him before.

“That it?” the officer asks with the lack of patience that’s characteristic of the night shift. 

“I– what? No, no,” he shakes his head, already dialing again. “Just– just give me a second.”

“Night ain’t young, man,” he grumbles, already reaching for his cuffs. Tommy takes a step back, suddenly out of his depth. “One call. Time’s up.”

“I’ll– I’ll go okay? I’ll go, just let me– let me call again,” the trembling of his fingers has nothing to do with his current state– Tommy feels like every single drop of alcohol has vaporized from his blood and now he’s left cold and in trouble and alone.

Fuck. Fuck, you’d never hung up on him before.

He calls again, once, twice, before the officer finally loses his patience. “Alright, kid. Whoever you’re callin’ they don’t wanna answer. You can have your one phone call at the precinct. Get someone else, though, huh?”

Tommy doesn’t want to. Tommy shouldn’t have to, a sudden rush of self-righteous anger washing over him with enough force to gridlock his entire body with tension. His jaw tightens and teeth grind together, his shoulders straighten into a taunt, painful line, holding onto the phone so tightly it shakes, the shapes of it making indentations on his skin.

How dare you? How fucking dare you? Friends since fucking birth, does that mean nothing to you? Now you’re throwing him away like a fucking dirty rag? 

Call Joel, you had said, and Joel is enough of an asshole to keep Tommy in the can overnight to teach him a lesson, but you? You two have always looked out for each other, this isn’t how it’s supposed to go–

“I don’t have all night, buddy,” the officer gets his hands on him to take back his phone and beckon him to the car. Tommy flails as an automatic response, fighting back against the unwanted touch. But whether he feels like it or not he’s still drunk and in the blink of an eye he’s got his face against the hood of a police car, red and blue lights hurting his eyes, and a tight hand around the back of his neck keeping him somewhat still. 

The officer mumbles something about Tommy causing more trouble than he’s worth and ain’t that a popular opinion tonight? “You’re gonna cause yourself any more trouble, son?”

Tommy snorts. Son, like the guy’s not just a couple of years older than him. He’s pretty sure they crossed paths once or a hundred times back in high school. 

The ride to the precinct is as uncomfortable as it gets. The heat in the car isn’t working so Tommy’s freezing his ass off in the back of the car, handcuffs digging into his wrists. His nose is bleeding all over his clothes, and hurting like a bitch where the officer had to punch him when Tommy’s fight response wouldn’t quit. 

And you, in the back of his mind. He pictures you asleep after his little interruption and his anger is enough of a fire inside of him to drown out the disbelief, the blatant hurt that threatens to kill him more than his broken nose does. 

He’ll pop the thing back into place later in the cell but this? You? As the hours pass by and clarity regains its home in his awareness, he doesn’t see a way around this. A scenario in which he calls again and you listen, where you talk to him and he doesn’t feel like you kicked him to the curb over fucking nothing. A few drinks. A favor. Best friends, his ass.

He’ll keep calling, though. Even if he has to spend the night in jail because you don’t pick up. He’ll dial drunk until he dies, just for you. 

______

tommy u silly little goose

since noah’s album came out last week i’ve had this song on repeat and i desperately wanted to write a fic about it. idk why my mind instantly went to tommy. i’m thinking of a post-outbreak sequel but i won’t confirm anything until it’s actually in the works. 

thank you so much for reading! i hope you enjoyed it! the lack of tommy fics is astounding to me, especially since gabriel luna is one of the most beautiful and talented men i’ve ever seen. 

reminder that commissions are open and support is always appreciated!

<3

#tommy miller #gabriel luna #the last of us #tlou #tlou fic #reader insert #leo writes #tommy x reader #tommy miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal

[jstarr86]

CH 1

1992

I stepped out of the car, the moving van pulling up behind it. Florida all the way across the country. I didn’t know what to feel, it was pretty so far but I was kinda scared it was different and I didn’t know anyone. I saw my mom talking to someone and walked up to her. She paused looking down at me a smile gracing her face.

“This is Natasha, Sweetheart this is Ms Lisa” I waved she seemed really nice.

“Hi.” I said shyly. A little boy ran up a large smile on his face as he stopped looking at me.

“Hi I’m Joe.”

“Hi,”

“What’s your name?”

“Natasha.”

“Wanna play?”

“Um sure ok.”

“Cool come on.” I followed him not knowing I’d be doing it forever or that I’d met my best friend.

3 Weeks Later

I was playing with Joe, we’d played every day since I’d moved in. It was summer so he was really the only person I knew right now, but I was ok with that he was really fun to be around

“Hey do you wanna go to my cousins with me I’m sure no one will care.” He said goosing the ball

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah why not we’re going to be in school together they’re my best friends kinda like you. They’re twins.”

“Ok.”

“Joe are are ready to go? Hello Natasha.”

“Hello Ms Lisa.”.

“Mom can Natasha come.”

“If her mom there is ok with that I’m sure it’s fine.”

Getting to his cousins I followed Joe as he walked in and I already saw him talking to two boys

“These are my cousins, guys this is Natasha and this is Jon.”

“Hi.”

“Hi I’m Josh.”

Fatu twins and Anoai. I’d been friends with them since day 1 and when that used to be how they were called or triple threat. The four musketeers My best friends, my life. I was so grateful for them, they’d had my back since I moved here and I know my life wouldn’t be the same without them hell I don’t think the move or my life would be as amazing had I not met them

I’d met Joe at 6 when my family moved to Pensacola and we became next door neighbors. My father was in the Navy, I had been born in San Diego California spending the first 6 years of my life in Miramar California since my father was stationed there. TOPGUN I’m sure you’ve heard of it and it’s a real place it’s not there anymore it was moved to Nevada but back then it was also at that base. When I was 6 my father got a promotion and we moved all the way to Florida. They’d found a nice little home off base and that’s where I met Joe; He’s been my best friend since, and within weeks I was friends with his cousins Jon and Josh, those three have been inseparable their entire lives and Joe is just an extra brother instead of a cousin. Always hanging out, playing sports, watching wrestling every week, always together. I spent the summer playing with them and once school started I met more people but no one was ever like us four. We all went to school together our whole lives minus Joe's freshman year where he was at some private catholic school until he got Ms Lisa to switch him to Escambia where the twins and I were. All my classes was always with at least one of them, even though they were a year older I was smart and was skipped a grade so since I’d known them we were together. So much so that rumors always flew as we grew that it was more or like in late middle and through high school I was sleeping with all of them. My ego loves that because they were all fine as hell but was so far from the truth, for the most part. I had lost my virginity to Joe when I was 14 and he had just recently turned 16. His birthday was in May and mine was in August like the twins. Yeah we thought the other attractive but it was mostly a I feel comfortable with you do this, we always knew we were better friends and this never changed our relationship but come that Christmas season we’d both learn that someone was seeing me as more than a best friend and had for a couple years.

When we turned 12 I went from Nat to Snickers. At first I hated it but now I’m used to it. It stuck and everyone ended up calling me it. My best friends had called me it once it was clear puberty had it and it hit hard. One day I was the normal tomboyish girl not really anything and the next morning I had boobs, curves and a ass. I remember waking up freaking out crying and putting clothes on that didn’t fit me before I jumped out of my bedroom window and walking the two feet knocking on my best friends a blanket around me. He opened the window looking at me like I was crazy.

“You sick of something Nat?”

“Can I borrow some clothes?”

“Um yeah, why you have tons.” I sighed opening my blanket as his jaw dropped.

“Yeah and they don’t fit help me.” My shirt that used to be normal was to the middle of my stomach not being able to fit over my boobs and my shorts were way to small

“Holy shit.”

“Joe!”

“I um yeah come in.” He grabbed a big shirt and some basketball shorts handing me them and I quickly went to put them on. I went shopping with my mom getting all new clothes and the twins when they saw me freaked just like Joe.

“What the hell where did all that come from?”

“Where’s Natasha and what did you do?”

“Shut up.” I said embarrassed “everyone at school is gonna be saying shit.”

“And we’ll fight them. But for real you look thicker than a snicker got damn.”

“Jonathan.” I wined

“I mean Nat you woke up like that.” Joe said pointing at me.

“Yo most girls would kill for that like damn you got thick.” Josh muttered. “Lemme touch it.” I glared at him but inside something cluttered in my stomach

“Snickers.”

“What about them.”

“Nah that’s you.”

“Yeah all that booty thicker than a snicker.”

“Our snickers.”

“I hate all three of you.”

“No you don’t.” They responded and after that the name stuck

I walked into Joes room tossing my backpack. He chuckled knowing I wasn’t very happy.

“You ok Snickers?”

“Kinda.”

“Wanna talk about it.”

“I’m tired of being a virgin.”

“Oh. Well I mean we’re 15 we’ll you about to be I just turned 16 and I didn’t know you-“

“Bullshit you're my best friend you know I am when the hell have you seen me with a guy let alone you guys won’t let one near me.”

“Cause we hear how they talk about you we ain’t letting some asshole just date you to hit it and tell everyone. They care about all that.” He said pointing at me “and not this.” He said poking a finger into my chest where my heart was

“Will you.”

“Will I what?” He asked looking up from his game

“Take it.”

“Take what?”

“Joe really, ugh this is already weird, take my virginity.” He dropped the controller looking at me like I was crazy.

“What!?”

“Your my best friend why not.”

“Why me why not one of the twins?” He asked confused and it made me nervous maybe I shouldn’t have asked but I couldn’t ask the twins Jon plays to much and Josh, I couldn’t ask Josh even if I wanted too.

“I’m closer to you and Jon plays too much I’ll hear about this the rest of my life if I asked him and you know it and I can’t ask Josh. Joe I only trust you guys, please.”

“Why can’t you ask Josh?”

“I can’t.”

“Snickers.” He said making me look at him. “Oh shit do you like him, like like him like him.”

“Joe.” I whined blushing.

“Oh my god how did I not know and since when.””

“If you tell him I’ll slit your fucking throat.”

“I won’t but you like him.”

“Ugh yeah ok I like Josh”

“Since when?”

“A little while. So I can’t ask him.”

“Why not like wouldn’t that make you wanna ask him more.”

“No because what if he says no or is weird or it changes shit and if he says no it’ll bother me and I don’t wanna catch more feelings if I sleep with him Joe it’ll probably make me like him more and I can’t do that.”

“You sure about this?”

“I’d rather it be someone I trust and am comfortable with and your my best friend.”

“Ok.” I looked up at him shocked he’d said ok he got up as I looked at him.

“Where-“

“I’m not doing this and taking a chance of having a baby we’re kids we don’t need that I’m sure there’s a condom in this house.” Five minutes later he was back and locked his door holding up a foil pack. “Told ya.”

“Shut up.”

“You sure about this Snickers like once we do this you can’t take it back.”

“I’m not stupid I know that.”

“Look of you want I’ll see where uces heads at if he likes you too, then you can ask him.”

“No, cause then if he does I don’t wanna be clueless.”

“ like he’d care like that Snick you got as hell besides I think he’s a virgin too.”

“Joe”

“I’m just making sure, like this is a big step.”

“I’m a big girl.”.Joe gently touched my face lowering his lips to mine as he kissed me. It felt good but also felt weird. Slowly I got into it and we ended up on his bed. I moaned when he kissed around on my neck and he pulled back

“You ok?”

“Um yeah that, that felt good.” He nodded doing it again. We made out a while his hand sliding up my shirt. We slowly undressed as Joe would ask if I was ok or sure.

“Natasha.” I looked at him as he looked down my eyes following his before looking at him. Joe was handsome as hell they all were. “You sure about this?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me if I hurt you.” He kissed me slowly moving as I gasped it felt weird and kinda hurt but also felt good. “You good?” I nodded as he slid all the way as I winced in discomfort. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re good, move.” I replied touching his face.

Most girls I’d heard those first time wasn’t the best and it hurt and while yeah it hurt a little when Joe first started it wasn’t bad. It was different.”

“Wow.”

“What?” I asked.

“You, that,.”

“Joe.”

“What Snickers, ya can’t get shy now not after that.”

“I’m not your just funny.”

“You sure your ok?”

“Yeah Joe you didn’t really hurt me, I mean you got a big dick at least I’m assuming and it hurt a few seconds when you first started but no you didn’t hurt me.”

“Get up I need to change the sheets.”

“Um ok.”

“Snickers you bled a little that’s why I was so scared I hurt you.”

“Joe.” I said touching his face. “You didn’t hurt me, I don’t think you ever will Your my best friend and thank you.”

“Always, I always got you Snickers. One day we’ll make sure you never want for nothin.”

“I know you guys say that all the time.”

“Because it’s true we don’t care where you go what you do who you end up with we got you.”

“I know bear I love you guys too.”

“By the way you really are perfect.”

“Joe.”

“You are,”

JON POV

I looked at my twin like he was crazy, I kno he ain’t really just say that. No Fuckin way

“Snickers?” I asked as he nodded “Snickers our snickers? Natasha? Natasha Aiyana Smith?”

“Yes Jon, damn! Who the hell else you think I’d be talkin bout.”

“Not Natasha not our Snickers that’s for sure.” I replied. I was shocked he liked her like for real for real. “You do know Joe hooked up with her right uce?” He immediately got pissed. Face red and all but as my brother my twin I couldn’t not tell him.

“I hooked up with who?” Joe asked coming in with his bag, staying with us and thank god Snickers wasn’t with him.

“What!?” Josh said glaring out our cousin, and tossing his water. “Always.”

“Dang what I do?” He asked

“You hooked up with Natasha!”

“Um yeah like 6 months ago, she wanted me to take her virginity wanted it to be someone special that she trusted and said those options were me or one of you two.”

“Well uce, uce likes her?”

“What?” Joe asked looking at my twin who was pissed. “Since when?”

“For a while, damn why ain’t she come to me?”

“Because y’all joke too much and she quote loves Jon but ain’t trying to hear his mouth cause he’d never shut up and she didn’t wanna ask you cause she has a Fuckin crush on you and ain’t wanna be weird. Besides she’s known me longer and better she’s legit next door.”

“So y’all like dating?”

“No.” He laughed “that’s like my fucking sister.” He looked at Josh before speaking “why ain’t you say anything no one had a clue and I know she don’t. Otherwise I know she’s had asked you shit I even tried talk her into tellin you.”

“I ain’t think she’d like me like that shit uce we grew up together and now I can’t.”

“Why? She thinks we cute you know that so she probably do like you.”

“Well she ain’t gonna do anything now if she did you done hooked up with her.”

“So what we ain’t dating it didn’t work we work better as friends.if you had said something you’d have taken her virginity dumbass cause when she came to me I found out she likes you that’s why she wouldn’t ask you, she didn’t want you saying no and it being weird and she ain’t wanna catch feelings.”

“But you know Tash man hell people been sayin she fucking all us what she gonna hook up with me and then really feel that way uce. You know her she ain’t about to be what everyone says. Snickers ain’t-“

“Tell her or I will.” Joe said.

“Why she-“

“Do it Josh, trust me. She been feelin you uce.”

#main event jey uso #wwe jey uso #wwe #jey uso #the usos #jey uso fanfiction #jey uso x reader #jey uso smut #wwe roman reigns #roman reigns fanfiction #jimmy uso

[lesbocs]

ROUND 3 POLL 3

MARIYAM BASKERVILLE (she/they) (@upvote)

"hiii!!! this is a character from a horror rpg maker game series that perhaps one day i will make.

mary is a poor pathetic meow meow final girl who has doomed the narrative itself. she has the ability to see anomalies (ghosts, demons, spirits, etc-- basically anything supernatural) but nobody believes her. she's a student at an all girl's catholic school in rural ohio in a vaguely post-apocalyptic timeline who is relentlessly bullied by her peers for being weird and neurodivergent and she has a sucky home life so all around she's having a terrible time. she's kind of eccentric and super into the occult, which in the good catholic town of woolwick is not accepted at all. her only ally is her older brother, callum, who she is very dependent upon but he apparently runs away from home shortly after a fight between the two of them. (it's a misunderstanding, he has his own demon stuff going on) and she's left in her senior year of high school feeling like shit.

so yeah life hates her and she hates life back. but !!! her solution to her very vitriolic misanthropy and unhappy circumstances is to open a portal to hell and allow her fucked up town to be consumed by it. on devil's night (the night before halloween, where kids play pranks and throw toilet paper at houses and etc) she sets her plan into motion and manages to find her way into getting roped up in the hijinks of a group of misfits (all students her age at the catholic girls school and all wlw and most of them are pretty nice actually) and horror game shit ensues with her getting involved in too because she's just a strange beast motivated by years and years of resentment and didn't really plan shit out… but she survives in the true end yay ^__^ sort of. schrodinger's cat girl.

she plays a vaguely overarching antagonistic role in the series over all but her intentions slowly become more benign as the story progresses… also she develops weird homoerotic enemies to allies to friends to STABS YOU IN THE BACK relationships with two of the other girls in the cast. idk mary is just a silly quirky trans autistic lesbian and yes she wants to destroy the whole world in her grief for her brother and the life she never had but she looked cute doing it!!!"

you can learn more about her here! (art for mariyam by pommeplisa on twitter)

🧡💛🤍💗💖

JACIRA (she/her) & TAYANNA (she/her) (@laguz)

"tayanna’s power is a divine veil of water that can be manipulated for defense. jacira’s power is manipulating blood. she has a cool blood sword. her gf shows her different and better/more defensive ways of fighting. through tayannas love and care for her, she realizes that her gift is dangerous for both her and others and should be used sparingly. with their love, they end hate <3"

you can learn more about them here!

#round 3 #tournament 2023 #had to crop mariyam's for sizing :(

[sarah-skylark]

This summer will mark the 35th year I’ve been into Star Trek. 35 years of fangirling TOS and TNG and everything else that came after. Which also means 34 years of shipping Spirk, even though those first few years it was more me thinking- wow, if one of them was a girl, this would be a love story!!! ( it was the 80s, people, and I was being raised hardline catholic).

So I was 11 and a half and I stayed overnight at my friend’s house a weekend she was at her mom’s and not dad’s house. She spent the two weeks before at her dads and came home obsessed with the Star Trek movies (ALL 4 of them!!!!!). She wanted me to see them. We rode our bikes past the (faaaaaar too expensive) blockbuster to the Pharmor grocery near Midway airport in Chicago to rent the tapes, made a bunch of popcorn and watched I, II, III, and IV all night.

I was hooked. Around the same time, my mom passed away after a cancer diagnosis. Star Trek became my comfort. In the world of Star Trek, my mom could have lived, I thought. They would have cured her.

I interlibrary loaned VHS tapes of the original series and tried to find it on TV. I started reading and buying the books from Crown books (which I could also get to on bike). I saw V and VI in the movie theater and had enough money to buy collectables when VI came out. I got all the cups from 7-11. I clipped articles in the paper. I sewed my own next generation uniform (red, though sciences were my thing). I made tribbles and sold them in a spot at the comic shop. I subscribed to the magazine and found pen pals in the back pages.

I discovered the existence of zines, and by the time I was in high school, I’d learned the comic book lady would have OMG SLASH zines she’d bring back from cons (which I didn’t/couldn’t go to) that i could ask for by asking if she had anything featuring The Premise.

(Remember that part where I said I was raised hardline catholic? Hahahahahaha yeah I was a bisexual teen not knowing what that was reading mostly Kirk/Spock hurt comfort. or even OT3 with bones. Yeah. That would’ve gone well if discovered).

I made a radio play parody where captain Pecan was protecting federation twinkies from Klingons and Ferengi and used the score music from IV and III in the background. ( Wesley got lost on the ship running around to the music from chekov’s run, fun times)

I made a part of a video where I turned my living room into the enterprise bridge made out of poster board. My friends grew out of Star Trek and I only had more fun with it.

Years after this, my dad remarried and while I was living in an apartment and going to college, stepmom threw out my entire Star Trek collection I had at home. I only had my 6 VHS movies, my scrapbook, a small amount of my own art, my pins, and the books Ishmael, How Much for Just the Planet, uhura’s song, Spock’s world, dwellers in the crucible, killing time, and doctors orders. Everything else, gone. All my zines, my books, my art, the model enterprise… gone. About 15 years later, I also discovered my card collection while cleaning out my dad’s trailer after he passed. They probably thought it’d be worth money.

—

It’s a different world now. I have my own things. I have kids, some of who are grown. I married a Star Wars fan (hilarious in many ways as we are fans of both now though I added Stargate to my fangirling to make a trifecta). I can find friends on the internet with the same ridiculous sense of humor as I have and the same geeking out I do. And I have new content getting created all the time to enjoy for the foreseeable future.

What a great time to be a long-term Star Trek fan.

Though I sure wish I still had those 7-11 cups.

#spirk #Star Trek #star trek tos #star trek tng #Star Trek history for me

[emersonfreepress]

As an adult, I look back at my private school past and realize it was a fucking weird system I had grown up in.

Your whole world is your classroom: unlike American school where you move from one class to another, you have only one classroom with a fixed group of people. You grow up with that fixed group. You interact with your other grademates but never with the same level of comfort as you do with your classmates. Oh, and your classrooms become such sacred spaces you can't enter other classrooms without feeling intense discomfort

Your interactions with upper- and underclassmen are almost non-existent. The way my school was designed, each grade had its own floor with teachers patrolling during recess to make sure no one went to the floor they are not supposed to.

If you are a 1st grader, you can't go to 2nd grade floor, and if you are a 2nd grader, you cannot be allowed around 1st graders. Not without an escort and even if you have a legit reason to go, you better get over it fast and go back to your designated space quickly.

At the common spaces like gardens and playgrounds, there would be at least two teachers out to make sure different-aged kids don't get mixed.

I think the goal was to make sure no bullying from older students happened. However, it also made our Big-Little School Programme (meant for middle schoolers to educate elementary schoolers on middle school life) very short-lived because both parties were very uncomfortable around each other and absolutely unwilling to talk.

And because you grew up with that fixed group of people, it becomes a very upsetting event when you are forced to mix up in middle school as preparation for high school. My grade was unfortunately the test group for that method, and we experienced a huge spike up in bullying during middle school because we were all miserable and feeling unsafe around these people we both knew and didn't know. If I remember correctly, it continued until my whole grade graduated.

If you were a private school kid, you are very likely to remain as one until university. But the good news is that you will still get to see your old schoolmates, because they all tend to aim for the same type of high school!

Literally the only reason I didn't recognize a good chunk of my high school grademates while my previous schoolmates did was because I wasn't upper class so I never ran in the same (outside of school) social classes as they did growing up. My mother knew other kids' mothers but her working-class sensibilities didn't mesh well with them so she was rather distant.

Dating is... oh boy. You would be hardpressed to find two kids who grew up going to the same school before high school date. Seriously. Any time I saw one of my classmates date, it would always be with someone they didn't go to the same school with, or someone older or younger than them. Never an old schoolmate, and never a classmate either.

For us, romance did not happen until high school when most of us went to different schools and met other people, and that's besides the cultural differences between us and Americans.

So, yeah. Private school culture, especially if you are rich, is kinda weird and very isolating.

This is fascinating! Wow, thank you so much for this, anon. took me a long minute to get around to reading it all, but I love hearing this perspective. I have thoughts since some of this is so alien and some is so familiar to me!

The Catholic school that I attended for one year of middle school was a bit like that—small enough that each grade was a single class. So all the students had like toddler class photos together and had all been to each other’s (giant) houses and seen each other grown up etc etc. It’s one of only a few social environments I’ve been in where I truly felt there was this permanent, inflexible outsider status stamped onto me. Also it’s just awkward being the new kid with super close classes like that? I was a zombie the whole school year, I couldn’t afford the stuff they did outside of school and barely knew what the heck they were talking about in casual conversation (so I relate to your mom’s distance tbh). I have seen that exact thing you’re talking about from the perspective of the new kid 😅 including that chasm between grades! There were only a handful of exceptions and probably just because some upperclassmen had younger siblings. That’s interesting that they were so strict about different grades fraternizing though… I’ve never heard of that being so strictly enforced in grade school lol

The poor social adjustment and uptick in bullying makes a lot of sense in that situation… My own school system was public and frequently overcrowded—you always met new people, not just every grade but almost every few weeks once you got to middle school. A number of elementary schools get funneled into two middle schools, and then those get funneled into a freshman-only off-campus site of the only high school in town. It was a huge joke in my friend group that we had no idea who half of the people in our graduating class were. Funny because it was true 😂

And the dating! In a school so big, people always end up dating people in their social circles/cliques. Maybe jocks from different social groups date. Maybe classmates with chemistry date. But mostly it’s people having crushes on the cutest whoever in or around the people they already talk to daily. I’ve always found the tropes of fawning over The Most Popular Kid to be so alien and like... made up! Like strictly a movie and TV thing 😆 Even if everyone knew your name we just weren't doing a whole rat race/social hierarchy thing. It was too big a school for that to make sense. No idea what it's like now with shit like clout and TikTok and whatever else the youths bully each other over these days 😅 I imagine it's changed... which makes me sad since that was like the only toxic thing we lacked at that school 😆

#doesnt help that my hs is 'famous' or wtver the fuck lol #barely famous but the ego the administration tried to instill in us says otherwise 😆 #lovely anon #i think there's a tag for this? #school talk #very curious about where this anon is from

[motownfiction]

ringing bells

Sam’s favorite part of the school day is whenever the bell rings from class to class.

Before, he used to like those moments because it meant another boring class was over. Even though he knew he had to go to another boring class, at least it would be a different one, with different people and different jokes to make. But that was before. That was junior high. Now that he’s in high school, he loves the moments between the ringing bells because it means he gets to pass Steph Armstrong in the hall.

His favorite time to pass Steph is in between first and second period. While he’s on his way out of theology, head full of Catholic propaganda, he sees her coming out of her art class just around the corner. They walk right past each other to get to their lockers and grab their books. Some days, Sam almost forgets he’s supposed to be getting his books. He just gets so caught up in Steph. Her hair, her smile, her walk. There’s something about her eyes when she’s leaving art class – her favorite hour in the day, as he learned during their ice breaker in English on the first day of school. Her whole face lights up, but there’s something extra beautiful about her eyes. It’s love and passion and everything that most kids in ninth grade think is uncool. Sam loves it. Nothing worse than being cool, he thinks, especially when art is on the line.

Today, as Sam passes Steph in the hallway, he has the bright idea to say something. He doesn’t usually talk to her unless it’s convenient – doesn’t want to have to associate with Kim, Vicky, or Gina by proximity if he can avoid it, since all they care about is cool – but today, something comes over him. He doesn’t want her to pass him by anymore. He’s tired of the sweet silent glances. Who cares if he has to associate with Kim, Vicky, or Gina? It could be worse than that, especially when Steph Armstrong is on the line.

“Hey!” Sam says.

Steph stops in her tracks. Her eyes go wide, but that passion from art class is still there. It is still beautiful.

“Me?” she asks.

“Yeah. Do you … do you wanna sit with us at lunch today?”

Steph turns bright pink, right there in the middle of the hall. This invitation has been a long time coming. They both know it. Last year, at the eighth-grade graduation dance, they swayed back and forth in time with “This Is for the Lover in You.” Years from now, Sam will laugh about how ridiculous it is for two fourteen-year-old kids to dance to a song about getting married. But now, when he’s still fourteen, it feels like the most important thing that’s ever happened. That, and the For Those about to Rock tour next month.

“Sure,” she says.

Sam shouldn’t be surprised. This invitation was a long time coming. And by the way he catches Steph looking at him in the middle of their English class, he’s sort of gotten the feeling she thinks about their dance, too. He coolly nods his approval and runs off to pre-algebra.

On the inside, though, he’s a disco ball.

And he loves every minute of it.

#drabble #ch: sam doyle #ch: steph armstrong #ship: forever afternoon #year: 1981

[akaraboonline]

7 Harsh Truths About Dating Someone of a Different Religion

I assumed that religion would make things more difficult, but boy, was I wrong — especially if one of you (him) comes from an extremely religiously observant family. 7 Harsh Truths About Dating Someone of a Different Religion In light of the many compromises, strange conversations, and awkward moments we've had in the last two years, I'm dropping a few truths on you in case you find yourself at a bar/on Match.com/being set up/accidentally falling in love with someone who doesn't share your religion. 1. Your parents may be more (or less) okay with it than you think When I told my father I was seriously dating a Jew, he was skeptical and chose to dance around the issue, expressing his feelings through silence that eventually led to reluctant acceptance. My mother, on the other hand, was overjoyed that I had finally found someone who pushed me and kept up with me. He could have been an alien from the planet CrazyBoyfriend and she would still love him, accept him — and, more importantly, accept us. Alex's parents, on the other hand, refused to meet with me for a year, but that's another story. 2. Prepare to answer the hard questions early The ones you don't even touch until three or four months into the relationship because you're afraid of looking like a psychopath? Yeah. On our second date, we got those bad boys out of the way. Alex: Would you ever become a Christian? Me: What are your thoughts on Christmas? We both drew our lines in the sand early on, and while it was uncomfortable, we both knew that if this relationship was going to stand a chance, we needed to see if we could agree on The Important Things. Thankfully, we did, for the most part. 3. One of you thought it was a fling Alex revealed about a year into the relationship that he never thought this relationship would last - our differences were simply too jarring - and that he planned to end it when he returned to Israel to finish medical school. That is, until he realized he couldn't physically. He adored me far too much. (I apologize for embarrassing you!) Because I've seen far too many rom-coms, I pushed any doubts to the back of my mind, preferring to romanticize us as star-crossed lovers. 4. One of you will backpedal on the aforementioned Important Things Remember when I said Alex and I mostly agreed on the important stuff? Know that it's far easier to make concessions (Yes, my love, I am completely open to keeping kosher) when you're in the throes of a courtship, lusting after each other so hard it makes you dizzy. You feel as if you would go to any length for this person — until you don't. Until you're a little more at ease, and then, wait a minute, this kosher thing is really, really hard, and I feel like I'm compromising more than you are, and HOLY HELL, WE'VE OPENED PANDORA'S BOX. 5. Say sayonara to your dream wedding I break out in hives just thinking about a wedding involving both my and Alex's families. The customs officers! The kosher chef! The fusion dancing! At this point, I'm more inclined to make a visit to the Justice of the Peace to eventually make it official, but then I think: Hey, wait a minute, why do I have to give up MY childhood wedding dreams just because our families might be super-weird together? Sigh. I hesitate. 6. You'll be forced to confront your own prejudices I'm ashamed to admit that before meeting Alex, I made a few crude Jewish jokes; the same goes for him and Catholics. But we're much more sensitive now, and we're much quicker to call out racist and anti-Semitic remarks disguised as "humor." When there's a face behind the caricature, things quickly become less amusing and more personal.

7. You will be brought together by guilt.

As Alex always says, Jews invented guilt, and Catholics perfected it. A part of me will always feel as if I'm not staying true to my roots (even though I had given up on Catholicism in high school). And a part of me realizes that by choosing to be with Alex, I'm making things more difficult for my family, my future children, and myself. Read the full article

[punk-pins]

wouldn’t it be funny if the high school my chem used for the i’m not okay video was a catholic school. that’s a joke I would’ve made before I found out that it actually is one.

#they used two different high schools but yeah one is a catholic school #sorry kids we’ll be having our bible study club meeting in a different room this Saturday #bc some evil and corrupted apostates are here to play rock music #now I know we told you that punk nonsense is the music of the devil #and is not allowed in our holy spaces #but they’re paying us a lot of money so we’re just gonna let it happen #I’m not okay music video #my chemical romance #mcr #revenge era #txtpst #three cheers for sweet revenge #cw: catholicism

[suesylvesterf]

What was going to an all girls school like, if you don't mind me asking? :)

OK anon im so sorry this is so long and so convuluted I actually got so carried away jdbKJBGKSDBGH. i'm not even sure i properly answered your question i just got overwhelmed with Love for my same-sex schooling DHGKJSDFBHG anyway, if there's anything more you want to know lmk and I will try to be concise next time 💀

Essentially, my own experience at a single-sex secondary school was fantastic—however, I know my experience isn’t universal, especially since my school was a little bit different to most, I think.

That being said, I still think that sending your daughters to female-only secondary schools is something every parent should strive to do if they can. No other learning environment will ever be as good for girls as a same-sex school.

In terms of school staff, mine was about 95% female, and 5% male. The few male teachers we had were genuinely competent men and decent teachers, they were also watched like hawks. Our principal was female, all leadership positions in the school (such as House Leaders, Year Level Co-Ordinators, Department Heads, even the chaplain) were held by women. Our school psychologists, our nurses, our library technicians, our café ladies, our career advisors, our tutors—all were women. Our school houses (think like Harry Potter houses) were named after important women in our country’s history.

I went to a co-ed primary school. And whilst at twelve you might not have the words to describe it, graduating from a co-ed space, into an all-female space is really a giant weight off of your shoulders. You don’t realise how suffocating co-education is until you’re no longer having to bear it. It feels so much more natural, so much more free! You are welcomed as you are. You can be loud and unashamed of it. We joked frequently with each other and our teachers, laughed loudly and cared not whether our laughs were ‘ugly’. I found that teachers were far more supportive than they were in my co-ed school. For example, in a co-ed school I had been told frequently to ‘pipe down’ or to ‘reel it in’ from teachers, and more vexingly to ‘shut up’ from boys due to my boisterous personality. In high school? My teachers encouraged me to audition for the play because I had ‘great projection’. In every school programme (more on those later) that I was involved in, I was the one asked to give speeches about them at assembly. I was asked to be the lead of our house chants during our sports festivals. I was asked to join the debate team because of my passionate nature, which in primary school, had me known as ‘difficult’.

Likewise, I had a friend who was by nature quiet, and loved to draw. In primary school she’d doodled on the back of a work booklet, and when her teacher returned it, she’d taken off two points and had written a comment saying something about teachers in high school not accepting work that was drawn on.

Do you know what happened when she got to high school? Our English teacher had seen the eye she’d drawn on the back of our Romeo and Juliet test and had written, ‘beautiful!’ above it. The next test, she drew a two-headed cat with witches’ hats on both heads (I remember the left head was called Turpentine and the right head was called Esmeralda). Our teacher wrote, ‘wonderful!’ above it, with a smiley face.

The next day she got an email from our art teacher that had a PDF flyer of information on both in-school and local art competitions.

Anyway, she had questions and that teacher answered every single one of them. She also personally helped her select the works she wanted to submit. She ended up having two pieces shown in the school gallery, along forty pieces made by other girls. About five years later for our final year, on that art teacher’s recommendation (and tutelage!) she took all of the visual art subjects on offer. When she graduated, her final piece was shown at a public exhibition in our state’s capital city, that honoured the best pieces done by select graduating students in the state.

So yeah. Our teachers were pretty amazing. Of course, there was the odd teacher or two you would butt heads with but that’s just a universal school experience. Our humanities classes, like history, for example, often had a unit that would focus on the female experience of a certain time period. For example, when learning about WW2, we did projects on female resistance fighters et cetera.

We had health classes that were actually focused on female health. We learnt about female anatomy (even the clitoris! Though we were all about thirteen/fourteen at this time so we found it incredibly awkward to talk about), as well as symptoms of PCOS during our menstrual unit. We learnt about contraceptive methods and devices (however, as a Catholic school they did have to tell us that whilst these methods are available, the church-sanctioned method is of course, abstinence).

Whilst the majority of the girls shaved their legs and wore makeup, as someone who did neither of those things I rarely felt judgement about it (albeit, I think there was a little for my lack of makeup, but this only lasted the first two years). A good portion of our staff also did not wear makeup, I don’t recall this ever being commented on. And, by the time we’d reached about our third year, a good portion of my year level and the ones above did not wear makeup on a daily basis. Leg hair was not looked down upon by any of us I don’t think by this year either. In fact, if you were particularly hairy often your hairless friends asked to rub your legs!

We were never short of female role-models, our staff made sure of that. We had multiple days per year when guest speakers would come and talk to us, mostly these were women who were experts in their fields—whether that be neuroscience or computer science, linguistics and literature or mathematics, politics, et cetera. The only times we really had male guest speakers was when police officers (one male one female) came to give us an assembly about sexual peer-pressure and laws around sharing nudes that was basically, “these are common (male) manipulation tactics used to pressure you into doing something you don’t want to do, don’t fall for them”.

We were encouraged to take STEM subjects, and those of us that had taken interest in computer programming were sent to coding programmes in the city during school hours! That’s how keen our teachers were to get more women into the field! This was the same with the girls interested in politics, who got to go to Model UN events, as well as mock parliaments in the country’s capitol.

We had a lot of programmes generally. A few overseas ones for girls who were in LOTE (languages other than English) classes. A few interstate ones, too. And of course, local programmes and excursions. Most of them (aside from the LOTE ones which focused on immersion) were volunteer programmes aimed at helping women and girls. The rest were about furthering our own skills or learning new ones. Majority of these were year-level based, but a few depended on the clubs/groups/classes you were in. For example, I was part of the Writer’s Club, and we took an excursion to the state Writer’s Festival and listened to female writers as well as feminist panels. We also had self-defence programmes every year.

In terms of peers I generally found everyone to be quite amiable by the time we’d reached our third/fourth year. There’s a common myth about all girls schools being filled with ‘catty’ girls who are constantly bitching about one another, but I really did not find that to ring true. There were a few fights and arguments in the earlier years, I was part of quite a lot lol but that’s honestly… just something that happens at school, at any school. Largely, we were good to each other. If someone was crying there was always someone who’d ask her what was wrong. If you missed the notes on the slide, there was always a girl willing to share her notes with you.

I think going to an all-girl’s school, and not having that much interaction with the opposite sex generally for that six-year period truly does something, I think, to your psyche. We are socialised to look down on our fellow woman, socialised to look down upon ourselves. But actually being constantly surrounded by women, and almost ONLY women, really helps to undo that. Even now I could not describe the fierce love I have for all those women and girls I came in contact with during my time there—even the ones I bickered with. Each and every single woman I met there enriched my life in some way or another. I think that is the effect of consistently spending time in any female-only space: developing a true appreciation for women. It is the only reasonable conclusion to come to.

I have been out of high school for two years, and in university for one. Among the many men I have met since, none of them have even been able to hold a candle to the any women and girls I know.

Anyway. TLDR: it slapped, send your daughters to same-sex schools!!

#this is so long sorry #long post #radfem safe #separatism #radfem

[misscarolineshelby]

Roommates – Part Sixteen

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Words:1,876

Warning: Fluff, Smut

Note: This plays in 2020. It’s all fiction and not based on Cillian’s real life and family.

A week had passed since you told Cillian that you loved him and, whilst you were strongly under the influence of pain medication, you remembered it.

You had, in fact, developed strong feelings for him and whilst the words left your lips accidentally when you were drowsy and half asleep, you were somewhat disappointed by the fact that he didn’t say anything.

Of course, he didn’t share the same feelings for you, you knew that much. You’ve been friends for so many years that you could hardly be surprised that he liked you as a friend and for sex, but nothing else. But, what you had expected was that he would say something, anything at all, even if it was simply confirming what you already knew.

***

You did tell your sister about it and, whilst you were surprised by the feelings you had so suddenly developed for your long-time friend, she wasn’t surprised at all.

She saw it coming as soon as she found out that you were sleeping with each other and she believed that you always had some sort of feelings for him.

In the same vein, she was sure that he felt the same about you and was probably reluctant to tell you and, with that in mind, you continued on as usual and acted as if nothing had happened.

You weren’t willing to give up your friendship and the amazing sex you have for maybes and thought that, if your sister was right, he would come around eventually, at least so you hoped.

***

Then, another week had passed and nothing had changed. At least so you thought.

Cillian asked you whether you wanted to travel to Cork with him to see his parents now that Ireland, once again, came out of lockdown and visits to family were permitted provided that you had a permit.

‘I don’t think I can Cillian. Only spouses’ you said, pointing to the pamphlet he had printed out from the Irish Covid Information website.

‘Well, we are living together, you can pretend to be my girlfriend if the police pulls us over’ he chuckled, before pleading with you.

‘You just want me to drive, don’t you’ you then said and he nodded. He hated driving long distances and it didn’t help that he had only gotten his drivers licence five years ago and failed his driving test three times when he moved back to Dublin.

‘I suppose it’s safer if I drive…so yes, I am coming’ you said somewhat amused.

‘Should I ask Ma to prepare two or one room for us?’ Cillian then asked and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

‘Your mother is strictly catholic and I suppose that the answer to your question depends on what you are willing to reveal to her about our little arrangement’ you joked and, of course, Cillian hadn’t even thought that far.

‘Two bedrooms’ he then confirmed before picking up the phone to let his mother know that you would be coming with him.

***

Three days later, you hit the road for the three-and-a-half-hour drive to Cork after you both had received a negative COVID test result which you took as a precaution.

As usual, Cillian’s mother was excited about the visit and you were excited too. You hadn’t seen her for about 18 months and the last time you saw her she had cooked you and your fiancé a lovely a meal.

Things were different then and you talked about your wedding and all the plans you were having in the future.

There was no pandemic to worry about and you weren’t aware of your fiancé’s indiscretions at the time while Cillian was still happily dating your somewhat crazy friend.

Now, your engagement had ended but your friendship with Cillian had evolved into something else entirely.

***

After a smooth three-and-a-half-hour drive, you pulled up in front of Cillian’s parents’ house.

They both greeted you with excitement and told you to come in quickly as it was raining.

Cillian’s father quickly carried your small suitcase to one of the guestrooms while Cillian placed his into the other. There wasn’t much space in the house and, whilst the house had four bedrooms, the corridors were rather narrow and the living area was small.

‘It’s so good to see you Y/N’ Cillian’s mum said before offering you a cup of tea which you gladly accepted.

‘The last time you visited Cork was under better circumstances, but I hope you will enjoy it nonetheless’ she then said and you thanked her for her hospitality.

You had always gotten along well with Cillian’s mother and Cillian was simply happy to see his parents again after such a long time, even if it meant that his siblings couldn’t visit them at the same time as him due to the visitation limits imposed.

As you were sitting on the sofa with Cillian’s mother you soon noticed that Cillian was gone and so did his mother.

‘He better not be stealing food’ she then huffed out sternly and, sure enough, Cillian had found the freshly baked scones in the kitchen and couldn’t resist.

‘But they are so good Ma’ you heard him argue as his mum told him to get out of the kitchen and leave the scones alone, which made you laugh.

‘He will never change’ you chuckled and his mother nodded in agreement.

‘No, he won’t’ she then said before informing you that she had made a roast for dinner.

***

After dinner and a few glasses of wine with Cillian’s parents, they headed to bed at around 8.30pm as usual, leaving you and Cillian to watch TV in the living room.

You were quick to spread your legs out over Cillian’s laps, getting yourself more comfortable but being vary that his parents might walk in on you.

But, Cillian seemed to think that, once they went to bed, they would pretty much go to sleep right away and proceeded to pull you onto his lap.

‘I missed this today’ he said before he caressed your face and kissed you gently.

‘Me too’ you then giggled before returning the kiss rather quickly.

‘Do you want to go to my bedroom or yours?’ he then winked and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

‘Your parents are in the house Cillian’ you then said and, just as you did, you heard some footsteps in the hallway behind you.

You quickly jumped off Cillian’s lap and sat on the lounge like a well-behaved schoolgirl as his mother walked by to get a glass of water while Cillian covered up his erection, poking against the denim of his jeans, with a cushion.

‘Night Ma’ he then said and she couldn’t help but laugh before saying ‘good night’ again.

‘I am not going to have sex at your parents house’ you then huffed out quietly when his mother had left.

‘Alright, let’s go for drive then’ he suggested.

‘A drive? And how will you explain this to your mother tomorrow?’ you laughed and Cillian suggested to tell her that you forgot some toiletries and he drove to the shop to get them.

‘Supermarket closes in 30 minutes, let’s go’ he said and you couldn’t really say no to him.

***

Ten minutes later you arrived at a secluded area near the beach and you could just tell that Cillian had been there before.

‘Is this where you used to take your girlfriends when you were at high school and snatched your parents’ combi even though you didn’t have a driver’s licence?’ you asked, having heard about these stories from his brother before.

‘Yeah, it’s a good spot, nice and quiet’ Cillian winked as he reclined his seat and you quickly stripped down to your bra and panties.

‘Oh my god Cillian I feel like an 18-year-old again, sneaking out of the house to make out’ you laughed and, just before you could protest, Cillian reached inside your panties and slowly stroked your mound.

‘Just that, this time, it will actually be worth your while’ Cillian smirked as he ran his forefinger between the crease of your pussy and noticed the moistness which had already built there.

‘Hmm yes, it will be Cillian’ you moaned as he was rubbing your clit with his left hand and with his right hand was caressing your breasts.

You were quick to release his hard cock from his jeans as well and began jerking him in time with his clitoral stimulation and the heat inside the car was palpable.

‘So naughty…what if we get caught?’ you huffed out, knowing that Cillian had a kink for semi-public sex.

‘It’s worth the risk’ he groaned and, before long, you were gazing up from the seat with that wanton look in your eyes, pulling Cillian closer and uttering cues while he fingered your pussy and mouthed your firm nipples with his welcoming mouth.

‘I need you inside me Cillian’ you moaned as you were welcoming two fingers into your waiting slit and could not be distracted, even by the crackling sounds outside and the sound of the radio.

‘Come on then’ Cillian groaned as you continued to stroke him and, just as he invited you to take what you needed so badly, you let go off his cock and climbed on top of him.

He pressed the head of his cock against your awaiting pussy and you slowly sank down on him.

‘Oh god yes fuck’ you moaned as his cock disappeared into your tight vagina, expanding your love tunnel while he met your lips with his. Your mouths parted and your tongues communicated the instant of union as Cillian’s cock drove slowly into your warm pussy. You were lost in their unity while your reality transformed around them.

‘You feel so fucking good’ Cillian groaned as you were moving in perfect motion with Cillian’s penetration and your thighs were even perforated with the moisture that was coming out of your pussy.

Your rocking continued and you were now joining orally with diatribes as Cillian’s cock bottomed out again and again inside you. ‘Fuck’ you uttered as his big balls pressed against your bottom.

Your warm tunnel was wide for his cock and your eyes were fixed on the mechanistic ramming of Cillian’s body in its hedonistic role.

‘I am cumming…fuck’ you moaned with the ever fastening in and out rhythms that Cillian was delivering to your womanhood. Cillian too was groaning and you put a hand underneath his balls while he pounded you and the car shook.

With your screams and loss of control inside erotic orgasm, Cillian too lost control and filled your cavity with his warm seed.

‘Fuck, Y/N, I love…’ Cillian began to say but, just as he did, there was a nock on the window of the car on the driver’s side next to Cillian, interrupting what he was about to say.

‘Please lower your window…’ a man said from outside and you could see some flashing lights behind where the car was parked.

 Tag List:

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#cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x reader

[fggtwrmz]

✞ pretty little sinner ✞

Hihi!! Taz here with this accounts first ((technically second)) post! This ones a full fic so it’s v lengthy

warnings: dubcon, noncon is you squint, size kin, dirty talk, talk of breeding, oral, religious themes, degradation, dumbification, dacryphilia, talk of corruption, did i mention degradation? cus we went a lil ham on degration, very rough in general, no like seriously kuroos hella mean here

please mind the warnings and leave if your uncomfortable with any listed!!

wc: 7.6k

The whole small town that you had lived in had known you and your parents as the perfect catholic family, and why would they have any reason to not believe that? After all, you were always such a good girl. The pride and joy of your parents’ lives, you did good in school, never complained about chores, and attended church every Sunday. That’s right, you were the perfect little catholic school girl. 

That's what drew you into him. 

You looked so innocent, so pure, so breakable, he just had to have you. 

And that cute little cross necklace you wore to show your faith? He just wanted to rip it off of you. Have you worship him instead. 

When you had spoken to him you didn’t imagine what he would actually be like. He’d put up such a sweet facade. But that's all it was. 

A facade. 

“What’s someone as pretty as you doing in a place like this, Dollface?” Came out the velvety voice of the walking personification of temptation himself; Kuroo Tetsuro. 

You had heard about him through whispered rumors throughout the halls. He had an infamous reputation. But rumors were just that. Rumors.

So you humored him. 

“At….The corner store? I’m getting snacks, what does it look like?” You had to giggle. It was such a foolish question. So foolish that you didn’t know the weight that it had held. 

He had you hook, line, and sinker, you were just too innocent to realize. And he had been oh so sweet to accept your invitation to church on Sunday! Of course, you had to ask him, the house of God was as good a place to get to know someone as any. Much better than a dingy corner store anyway. 

His words were sweet and charming, even for just a small chat. There was a look on his face that made you suspect something, but the way he spoke pushed your suspicions. 

So when Sunday came and you saw him waiting for you at the door, in what appeared was his normal attire, you still gave him a big smile and waved him over to where you and your parents were. 

“Kuroo! You made it!” You wanted to embrace him in a hug, but you felt that would be a little too familiar for someone you had only met yesterday at a convenience store. “Of course I made it, I wouldn’t blow someone as cute as you off.” He spoke, caressing your cheek. 

Of course he wasn't nervous about being too familiar. 

You felt the warmth rush to your cheeks, the affection catching you off guard. 

“Sorry if I seem a bit underdressed.”  He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, though it seemed as if he didn’t care. His attire could be deemed inappropriate for a church setting. His ripped jeans, loose-fitting button-up shirt, Jordan Retros, contrasting with your pure white short sleeve blouse, frilly plaid green and black skirt, and shining black Mary Janes, and of course that shiny cross necklace that hung so prettily from your neck. 

You giggled, “No worries! I’m sure if you had shown up naked the lord wouldn’t turn you away.” 

And there you went again, going on about how the lord would love anyone, sinner or saint. He’d wondered how you would react if you knew the sins he had committed, had planned to commit. 

He wondered what filthy sins such a precious girl like you were hiding under that short little skirt of yours. 

He couldn’t wait to find out. 

You had taken your seat in the far back pews, opting to sit in between him and your parents. You’d been paying attention to your pastor, up until you felt a warm, calloused hand rest itself on your thigh. 

You looked up with a curious look, but Kuroo seemed to be more focused on the word of the holy father than you, so you relaxed at his touch. Keyword; seemed. 

And that wasn’t all he was planning to do, unfortunately for you. 

He rubbed up and down your upper thigh, occasionally squeezing the soft flesh between your skirt’s end and your thigh highs beginning, pushing your skirt just a little higher up your thighs to get more space. 

At that moment you thought you'd absolutely die if your parents looked over at the sinful act that was going on between you two, but when you looked over they were both too caught up in the pastor’s prayer to notice anything. 

His hand moved inward, causing your breath to hitch. His fingers practically brushed against your core, causing you to let out a gasp. It was loud enough for just him to hear but low enough to where your parents wouldn’t suspect anything. 

You placed a hand on his wrist, signaling it was not the time for this. He simply flashed a smirk, never looking down your way. His fingers made their way to your panties, gently rubbing against your folds, you ended up dampening the garments in the process. 

You sucked in your breath, now holding onto his wrist with a feverish grip, notifying him just how on edge you were. 

“Time for the communion! Everyone, form a line, children, teenagers, then adults.” Father announced.

You let out a breath you weren't aware you were holding in. 

Your pastor had just saved you from eternal damnation. 

You and Kuroo walked in line, behind a couple of kids and in front of a few more teens. He rubbed down your shoulders and arms, sending chills down your spine. 

You held your hands behind your back as children took their crackers which were symbolic of the flesh of Jesus, their “wine” symbolic of the blood of Christ, and scattered back to their seats. 

When it was your turn, Kuroo made sure to keep a keen eye on the way your head tilted back ever so slightly when you had opened your mouth for the cracker to be placed on your tongue. 

He wondered what other situations you would be in such an arguably compromising position. 

You ate the cracker and took the small, plastic shot glass-like cup with you back to your seat. 

“Nah,” Kuroo shook his head, declining the offer of the cracker, and took the cup, downing it and throwing it in the small trash bin next to the pastor, walking back to his seat, not looking back. 

He sat back down next to you, his hands in his pockets this time. You stared ahead, waiting for anything to happen, the tension between you two was so thick you could cut it with a knife. 

Suddenly, he leaned down to your ear, so close you could feel the warmth of his breath on your neck. “By the way, you get so fucking wet. It’d be pathetic if it weren't so adorable.” He hummed, sending heat straight to your core. 

You gasped at his words, looking up at him as he leaned back up. “Kuroo!” You whispered. “You shouldn’t curse in the house of the lord!” 

He looked down at you and chuckled slightly. 

“Oh princess, if it were just us here I’d do so much worse.” He teased, making your eyes widen. Heat rushed over your body, causing you to break eye contact with him. His gaze became too much to bear. 

Your parents and pastor had warned you of temptation before, but you had always thought it would be easy to overcome. You would have never thought that it could be something like this. His words and gentle touches felt like too much yet not enough all at the same time. 

You wanted it all to stop, but yet you wanted to beg for more. 

But you had to keep your composure, God's eyes were on you, you reminded yourself. 

But all you could feel was his eyes on. They were fixated on you. The thought alone of that insatiable look in his eye made your thighs pressed together and your throat run dry. It all made your head reel. 

And just like that, it was over. 

You had been so lost in thought that it took Kuroo shaking you to make you notice everyone getting up and gathering outside for the weekly catch-ups that turned, “just a few minutes dear, and then I swear we’ll leave,” into 30 minutes and plans to babysit Mrs. Johnson's grandsons next weekend. 

“Is it time to go?” Kuroo asked you, wrapping his arms around your waist. 

“Only the adults are leaving, the teenagers and children stay for Sunday school, that’s why I’m wearing this outfit.” You whispered to him. 

He went silent until he proposed an idea that caught you way off guard. “We should go back to my place for bible study, I might be able to show you a different type of God.” 

Your eyebrows raised at the sudden invitation, you didn’t know what he meant by that, but you know it’d be rude to decline such an offer since he had come to Sunday worship despite his belief in this “other type of god”. 

Before you could answer he tapped your mother’s shoulder, catching the attention of both of your parents. 

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but can I speak to you for a second?” He asked politely. Your parents said their goodbyes to Sister Elise and stepped away with you and Kuroo. “Yes?” Came the voice of your mother. 

“Would it be alright if me and your sweet daughter here, a real angel if I do say so, could go back to mine so we can go over the Psalms? I would offer to do it over the phone but the lord’s word can only be understood in person.” It’s like he had the good Christian boy next door role down pact. 

Your parents looked at each other worriedly. “I don’t know, will there be a guardian to watch over you two?” Your father asked. “Yes sir, my fathers at work, but my mother will be there. I promise I’ll have her home at a reasonable time.” He promised.

Oh yeah, he has this little act down to the T, not like you could see through it though. You were so naive and thought that you could bring out the good in him with the help of good. How foolish. 

Your father looked at his watch. “It's five now, so have her home no later than eight. Understood?” “Crystal clear, thank you, sir. Shall we get going?” He asked you, a perfect and pure smile plastered on his face. 

He was too perfect, your parents already adored him. 

Too bad it was only to get in your pants. 

———

You were on his bed. His room smelled of pinewood and lavender. You drowned in the scent, loving every second of it. 

His room was nothing like yours, he had deep red walls, wooden floors, and everything looked to be either black or red, barely any other colors being seen other than the clothes in his closet, and some other things you couldn’t identify, but he shut it before you could get a good look. 

“Sorry if my room is a bit dirty, I didn’t think about cleaning up before inviting you.” He apologized, closing the curtains. 

You loved the way he spoke, it was like his words were coated with chocolate. His luscious and velvety voice made you think things, things the lord would frown upon. 

“No worries! Nobody’s perfect.” You kindly reassured him with a polite smile. 

He’d think differently, you were a goddess in his eyes. Every part of you, even everything he couldn’t see, not that he’d be in the dark for much longer. 

He chuckled, his eyes wandering down your figure, undressing you with his eyes, as you sat innocently on his bed waiting for whatever he might do. 

“So where’s your mom?” You asked innocently, catching him off guard. “What?” “You said your mom was here, where is she? I didn’t see her when we walked in.” 

He’d already forgotten. Typical. 

“Oh, she’s probably taking a nap.” He lied with ease. 

He didn’t think he'd be able to forgive himself if he was in the presence of his mother while thinking about such ungodly things. He planned to defile you, and he wanted to be the only one who even got close to experiencing you in such a state.  

“Oh well-uhm...I’ll be sure to be quiet so I don’t disturb her.” 

He held in a chuckle. There was no way that you would be quiet, no way you could be quiet when he got his way.

“So…. While I have no real interest in changing faiths, I have to ask about the god that you worship.” 

He had you right where he wanted you. 

He hovered over your frame at the edge of the bed, him standing and towering over you. He’d lifted your chin to look up at him with the tips of his fingers and said in a delightfully sinful tone, 

“Oh baby,” He leaned in close to your ear, you could feel his hot breath on your sensitive skin. “I’m the new god, and you're gonna worship me like I’m your true creator.” 

You felt yourself shrink, yes at the way he was menacingly towering over you, but at the way he describes his God—no, himself. 

“You-you’re...the god you were talking about?” You stammered, your hands on his chest, trying to make some distance between you and his dominating presence. 

Sadly to no avail. 

“Mhm, and you’re going to be a good girl and obey me, understood?” 

 "Y-yes, sir." 

"Awe look at you, using your manners without me having to tell you. Keep that up and you just might get a reward." He cooed.

You felt a familiar heat pool at the pit of you. 

What was he going to do to you? What were these sudden temptations? And most importantly why did you want more. 

This was god testing you, and you were failing miserably. 

You wanted so badly to give in to your desires. To leave behind the life of that sweet innocent angel that everyone once knew, you wanted to give yourself wholly to your new one and only savior. 

You were really doing this. 

You were abandoning the only faith you’d ever known for some stranger. 

For all you know he could be a demon from hell himself, here to stray you away from the path the lord had originally sent you to. No, he couldn’t be a demon. He was so sweet when the two of you had first met, and he was so polite when addressing your parents. 

You felt like Eve, being tempted with such a delicious specimen by the devil himself. So when he pushed his lips against yours harshly, like Eve, you gave in. 

His lips molded perfectly against yours. Your tongues were dancing in an elegant waltz that could only be described as heavenly. His lips tasted so sweet on yours. If this was the forbidden fruit you would happily taste it again and again. 

His hands roamed your backside, hiking your skirt up so he could get a feel of your cotton panties. Your breathing sped, feeling him caress your clad ass. You’d always been told to never let anyone touch you like this unless you’re married, but I guess your god was the only exception. 

That’s right. Kuroo was god now, and you had to let him do whatever you want.

Suddenly, he roughly pulled your skirt off, throwing it behind him. You whimpered, afraid he might’ve ripped your skirt. 

Feeling his rough hands run up your sides and into your shirt, he stopped kissing you to look down, causing you to let out a whine, missing the feeling of his lips on yours. 

“Awe baby, don’t look so sad, I’ll get your mouth back to work real soon.” He whispered, trying to unbutton your shirt. Trying. 

You could tell he was getting frustrated at how the buttons wouldn’t come undone. 

He groaned loudly, grabbing an open hole of your blouse and ripping it open, making the buttons of your shirt fly everywhere. You gasped, whining because now you didn’t have anything to come home in. 

“Kuroo! How am I supposed to go home without a shirt?” You whined, hearing him chuckle soon after. 

“Hush, you’ll be fine don’t worry, you won’t be needing it anytime soon.” Kuroo reassured with a smirk.

He unclipped your bra and threw it behind him, looking down hungrily at your tits, admiring how perfect they were. He cupped one of them and proceeded to place the other in his mouth. You let out a soft moan, awakening something fierce in him. 

“Oh fuck, I can’t wait to hear more of those sweet sounds, princess. That’s right, let it all out for me baby.” 

He kissed up your chest and to your neck, peppering kisses and bite marks on you. Claiming you. 

He bit down on a certain spot, making you moan out, your fingers getting intertwined with the back of his hair. Your legs clung onto his waist as he abused the spot with his mouth, leaving dark hickeys. 

Your moans became needier when he brought his knee up to your cunt, grinding it right against your clit, making you wetter by the second. 

You felt high on ecstasy, the pleasure becoming heavenly, but what made everything pure bliss was his words. 

The way he’d call you his baby, his princess in between kisses, and the best of all, his little sinner. 

Being called his sinner made you feel a different type of feeling. It felt wrong, you could feel the heavens looking down on you in disappointment with each response you gave him. 

Yes, you’d be giving up your oath to stay pure until marriage, but if it’s your god taking your virginity, what harm could be done?

When he lifted up off you, you were snapped from your pleasure. 

He was looking down at your body and you resting upwards on your elbows, wondering why he’d left. 

“Get on your knees.” It wasn't a request. It was an order. One that you, of course, didn’t even think to disobey. 

So there you sat. All pretty and kneeling in front of him as if he was an alter. 

 You looked like such a perfect slut in his eyes. Who knew that such an innocent little virgin could look like the perfect whore. 

He wouldn’t tell you that though. No, he wanted to warm you up first. Call you such sweet names, make you feel like his precious baby girl and then let you know just how much of a dirty slut he thought you were.

Knew you were. 

All you needed was a push in the right direction. And he would provide that push. 

“Now you want to know how to appease your god, don’t you?” 

You nodded from in between his legs enthusiastically. 

“Well, first, you have to atone for your sins. Now how would we go about doing that?” 

You didn’t answer. You didn’t know what to say. 

“C’mon baby, be a good girl and use your words. How would you atone for your sins? Think about the position you're in before you answer.” 

You looked down at your legs which were folded underneath you and looked back up at him. 

“P-Prayer?” 

He couldn’t help but laugh at your innocence. “Oh princess, so innocent even in such a vulgar position baby. You’re gonna atone for your sins by sucking me off. You don't want me to be mad, do you?” 

Of course you didn’t. You didn’t even understand what sins you had even committed, but if Kuroo says you’ve sinned, you'll let him do anything to make you holy again. 

He stood up and unzipped his pants, pulling out his cock and waving it teasingly over you. 

“Now stick out your tongue.” 

You did as you were told, eyes never leaving his cock. It was the only one you’d ever seen, and the only one you ever wanted to see. It was a good 7 or 8 inches and about 4 inches wide in girth. 

It had the drool pooling at the bottom of your tongue before falling on your thigh high socks. It felt every bit as sinful as it looked and it had your panties soaked. You'd grinded against yourself for some sort of friction. 

“Awe, so pretty for me, now listen to me, you're gonna take everything I give you, ok princess?” 

You nodded, feeling as if your voice would betray if you tried to speak. 

“What’d I say about using your words? Such a shame, you were being so good earlier.” 

“Sorry sir, please don’t be mad, I promise I’ll-I'll take it all. I'll be so good for you.” The words were coming out faster than you could control. If someone would have told you that you would be in that predicament about a week ago you would have laughed in their face. But here you were, begging for him to do something, anything. 

You sounded absolutely brain dead and he loved it. 

“Ah, yeah that’s it, that’s my good girl.” He said grabbing you by your hair and gently guiding you down his shaft. 

“Fuck baby, ‘gonna train this throat so well you’ll be ready to worship this cock with your mouth anytime of any day.” He growled, lowering your head down faster, soon hearing you gag over his length. You felt tears prick your eyes as he finally thrusted his full length in your mouth, going well past your limits. 

He lets out a dark chuckle, suddenly being cut off by a throaty moan. 

“Ah f-fuck princess you’re being such a good girl, now remember to breathe through your nose.” He reminded you, resulting in you looking up at him and nodding, letting him know you understood. 

Your parents would disown you if they knew what you were doing. Your pastor and priest wouldn’t even think of speaking to you. You’d only have Kuroo, but that doesn’t sound too bad. After all, you had devoted your life to your religion in the past, so what would be so different now? You’d just be able to indulge in such fine luxuries as getting facefucked after church. 

He put his other hand on your head, roughly shoving your head down, matching the bucking upwards of his hips. The action erupted a loud groan from him, throwing his head back. 

You could feel him all the way down your throat. 

“Oh yeah, that’s my good girl, fucking hell baby girl,” he moaned, you could feel his thrusting start to get uneven, your throat not having anymore time to adjust to his size and abuse. 

His pace was absolutely brutal but you sat there, taking everything he gave you.

On the inside you were smiling, happy to please your god, you felt so proud of yourself for making him feel good. Being his good little girl. His obedient little worshipper. 

Your eyes became watery, the way he roughly thrusted into your mouth made your throat hurt, which made your eyes water. 

He bit his lip, lowering the sound of the grunt he let out. “Mmf, baby you look so pretty right now, such a pretty fucking princess for me.” He grunted. 

You didn’t feel pretty, though. Your face was covered in tears, sweat, makeup, and ran down mascara. Your hair was under Kuroo’s grip, messily overlapping his hands. Strings of drool were hanging from your plump lips onto your thighs, not to mention your soaked panties. 

Kuroo on the other hand looked heaven sent. Hair messily askew and face tinted slightly red. Biting his lip while sweat slid down his forehead. He looked like he was graced by God.

He looked like he was graced by God.

You felt ashamed at how wet you got by just looking at him, but fuck was he sexy. 

He shoved your head down quicker and quicker, thrust harder into your mouth. “Fuck, fuck baby you’re gonna-you’re gonna make me—” His groans became more and more breathy, and his working became more and more sloppy, until you felt a warm, thick, sticky liquid coat the insides of your mouth. 

The foreign substance tasted bitter and you wanted to spit it—

“Ah ah,” he sang, grabbing your chin to make you look up at him. 

You looked disgusting. He wanted to see you like this more often.

 “Be good and swallow for me, baby girl.” 

You gulped down the liquid, feeling it still in your throat, but it didn’t bother you enough to where you couldn’t breath. 

“Di-did I do good, sir?” You sounded absolutely broken, and it was like music to his ears. 

“You did amazing, I don’t think I’ve ever cum so hard. Does your face feel alright?” He cooed, tucking himself back into his pants. 

“My jaw hurts, and so does my throat, but I’m glad I got to make you feel good.” 

Kuroo smirked, admiring what he molded you into. Such a dedicated disciple, you deserve an award. “Now it’s your turn. Come on, hop up on the bed for me,” he commanded, patting the spot on his bed beside him. 

You did so eagerly, not wanting to break your obedience streak. You sat on your feet, your hands resting on each of your thighs, smiling with the light shining beautifully in your eyes. 

Even as the mascara ran down your cheek, you looked so beautiful to him. 

“Lay down.” He softly said. You obeyed, as usual, keeping your legs closed in the air. You had no idea what he was thinking of doing. 

“Spread them for me, babes.” He commanded. You were confused, why did he want your legs spread? 

“Wait, why?” You asked innocently. His eyebrows furrowed.

 “Because I said so. You’re not really denying the word of your lord, are you?”

Of course you didn’t. You were completely devoted to him, so without further hesitation you spread your legs. He pulled your drenched panties up off you and threw them somewhere in the room. 

He ducked himself inbetween your thighs and planted your thighs on the side of his head with a secure grip. 

“W-Wait!” You squeaked out. 

“What’s wrong baby? You’ve been such a good girl, and good girls deserve rewards now don’t they?”  He acts like this is for you, when in all honesty it’s all been for him. This whole time he’s only been fulfilling his desires of turning you from a sweet and innocent princess into a filthy fucked out whore and he knows this will only speed the process a bit, you just so happen to be getting some pleasure out of it. 

“Yeah I gue- Ah!” A moan cut you off when you felt him lick up your wet folds, moaning your legs jolt up and your back arch. 

He plunged his tongue into you, his thick tongue thrusts into you, making your moans come out in squeaks. You felt absolutely amazing already. 

His tongue circled around your clit, pushing his tongue in and out of you in patterns; leaving his tongue in, out, for a second, then in again going back to sucking and circling.

Your moans became higher and breathier each time his tongue circled your clit, it drove him absolutely crazy.

He was...spelling something? You could feel it as he kept making the same trails around your cunt. 

K,

U,

R,

O,

O. 

Kuroo. 

“Mmph, Kuroo, more please…” You moaned tugging at his hair. He slid his thumb up your thigh, rubbing your clit as he pushed his tongue deeper in you, prodding your sweet spot.

The sudden action made you cry out in pleasure, tugging at his hair. He moaned from under you at the sudden mix of pain and pleasure on his scalp.

Kuroo stuck his tongue in and out of you, continuing to rub your clit with his thumb. You felt a tingling sensation grow low in your stomach, making your grip tighten on Kuroo’s hair and while your other frantically grabbed at his sheets, the foreign feeling traveling through your entire being. 

You moaned his name, wanting to ask him what the sensation was, but your mind only focused on him, making barely anything come out other than moans and his name. 

His fingers sped up as his tongue explored your walls. The sensation made you tighten, sending chills through your core as the pressure became too much to process alone.

Your legs twitched as your orgasm rocked through you, your eyes rolling back, gripping his hair tightly.

All that you could think of in that moment was Kuroo. KurooKurooKurooKuroo. It was a repeating mantra in your mind.

Your walls tightened around Kuroo’s tongue, a moan squeaking from your throat. Your grip tightened as you came, covering his tongue. You came from your high slowly, allowing you to let out a satisfied sigh. 

You smiled peacefully as he hungrily lapped at your clit, making sure not to let a single drop of your cum slip from his tongue. 

As he pulled out his fingers and lifted up from your body, you relaxed, your legs falling and your hand bringing itself to rest upon your stomach. 

He came up and captured your lips in a bruising kiss, making sure you could taste yourself on his tongue. You tried pushing him away, not liking the taste of yourself, but he slapped your thigh, taking your hands and holding both of them above your head. 

You whimpered squirming, uncomfortable with him holding you down. You shook your head in the kiss, trying to get away, but he only took this as an invitation to slide his tongue into your mouth. 

You moaned into the kiss, feeling your body temperature rise as he rocked against you, grinding against your thigh. The foreign feeling felt weird, but knowing you were giving him pleasure did cloud your mind with a hazy fog. 

He parted ways from the kiss and looked down on you. 

You looked so fucked out, and the real fun hadn’t even started yet. He wondered how you would be able to take him all the way, the thought of you not being able to handle all of him snuck its way  into his mind and making him groan. 

You would look so cute crying that it was all too big, how it wouldn’t fit. The money he’d pay to see that, he’d bow down and pray to any god to see that image and keep it in his mind forever. 

He leaned up and loomed over you, caging you with his hands on either side of your head. His eyes were dark with lust. It struck a tinge of fear in you. 

He unzipped his pants, pulling his cock out, and spread your legs once more.

Leaning down, he whispered in your ear. "Do you think you're worthy enough for my cock princess?" 

"Huh!?" 

"Awe, what did you think was gonna happen sweetheart? You thought it'd be that easy to make up for your sins—"

"But you said—" you felt tears prick your eyes. You didn't think you were ready for such a big step before marriage. You two weren't even dating!

"But you said—" He mocked in a whiny voice. "I know what I said, and now I'm saying," he pulled you by the cross on your necklace. 

"That I'm gonna fuck you until you’re too fucked out to even think about anything else. I'll turn you into such a pretty whore that you'll feel dirty even thinking about stepping foot in that church. Do you understand slut?"

Whore? Slut? Where was this coming from? He’d been so nice to you. You wouldn’t think he’d call you such degrading names. It was like a switch had been flipped inside him. 

You looked down at his size, causing you to whimper in fear for your small body. 

Kuroo squeezed your cheeks in one hand roughly, making you whine, your eyes watering. “Use your words, you dumb bitch. Do you or do you not understand what I’m saying?” He repeated. 

You nodded. “I-I understa-stand.” You hiccuped, hugging your arms.

You we’re borderline sobbing at this point. This wasn’t the smooth and sweet guy who chatted you up in the convenience store. This wasn’t the sweet christian boy your parents knew. This man was Lucifer himself.

And now, your new lord and saviour. 

You didn’t know what you were getting yourself into. You should have never given him the benefit of the doubt. Everyone was right about him. He was just a mean playboy jerk who treated women like shi-

“Awe don’t cry sweetheart. You were doing so good just a minute ago.” His sweet and comforting tone snapped you from your thoughts, and you felt your mind become just a bit less panicked about the whole situation. “Although, you do look awfully pretty when you cry… hm… How bout this; I’ll just make you feel so good to where your instant reaction is to cry. That way I get to see that cute little tear-stained face, and you get to have my expert cock. How does that sound, princess?” 

You nodded, feeling like if you opened your mouth only sobs would come out. 

“What did I say about your words?” He quickly chastised. 

“S-Sorry. Yes sir I-I’d like that…” 

“That's a good girl,” The praise made your chest bubble with joy. You were happy that you could be seen as good in his eyes after all the disgusting things he had just called you. 

“Now here’s the worst part.” 

And that was all the warning you got before he rammed his cock into you. It was the worst pain that you had ever felt. The agonizing stretch, the unfamiliar feeling of being so full, it all was too painful to bear. So you did exactly what he planned and cried. 

He thought of going slow, he really did, but then he wouldn’t be able to see you and those absolutely gorgeous tear streaks. 

“Kuroo, it hurts! It’s too much! Take it out please!” You sobbed out. 

He laughed at you. “Aww poor baby, is it too much?” 

“Good.” He said with another slam of his hips. “You seem—fuck— to forget what we’re—oh god your so fucking tight—doing this for. You were acting like a bitch in church. In the house of your—shit—precious lord.” He said the last point in a mocking tone. “And now you're just paying for your sins to your new god.” He breathed out while continuing to thrust into you at a brutal pace. 

You could only cry harder as he fucked you with such vigor. The stretch was so painful and with every rough thrust he hit your cervix dead on. It was absolute torture. 

So you 're confused as to why the pain slowly subsided and turned to pleasure. Were you… enjoying this? No. There was no way. You didn’t even get a real say in what was happening. So why we’re tiny gasps coming out faster than you could stop them? And why did your hips start to move down to match his thrusts. 

“How do you thi-think your parents would react to your sinful actions right now? Huh, you dumb slut? Bet they’d be so disappointed to see that their precious little girl is nothing but a pretty little sinner huh? Say it! Fuck- Say you’re a sinner, and make sure the neighbors can hear you say it.” 

“B-but your mom..!” 

“You actually believed that?” He laughed. His laughing consisted of grunts and groans, making his laughing time out. “You’re such a fucking dumbass, you know that? I wouldn’t be touching your disgusting ass if my mother was home.” He growled, making more tears stream down your face. 

You whined, covering your face because of the absurd amount of embarrassment you felt. 

“Oh no no no, don’t cover your beautiful face now!” He grunted, taking both of your wrists and holding them above your head. 

With only the bottom half of his cock fucking into you, his thrusts were long and deep, making sure you felt it in your stomach. Your eyes rolled back with each agonizingly painful and deep thrust, your nails ripping off your skins from balling your fists. 

“Oh fuckkkk you're so tight for me.” Kuroo groaned. ”How’s such a slut like you got such a tight pussy?” 

It was obvious that the question was rhetorical as he started to slow his thrusts but put more force behind them, bruising your cervix. All you could let out were little “ah ah ah ahhhhhhs”. 

He slowly stopped, looking down at your trembling body. He let out a breathy groan, shaking his head and biting his lip. 

He let go of one of your wrists and grabbed hold of your hand, bringing it down to your stomach. 

“Princess, do you feel that?” He asked, rubbing your hand over a bump on your stomach. You looked down with him, seeing a slight bump stand with attention below your belly button, making your eyes widen and your breath quicken. 

“Ka-ka-Kuroo! What is that?!” You frantically questioned. 

He looked up at you with the most agrivated, most dumb founded look on his face. “What do you mean, ‘what’s that’?! That’s me, dollface.” He spat, making you jump. “Y-you..?” 

He groaned, slamming into you again, causing you to scream out again. “Ya’ see that moving in your stomach? That’s me, fucking deep into your tight tight pussy.” He growled. You look down again, seeing the bulge in your stomach move with each sharp thrust Kuroo sent through you. 

It made your head feel fuzzy. 

Your body started adjusting to his size, finally. You lifted your legs to cling onto the side of his waist, but they quickly fell spread for him. Your arms also stopped struggling, relaxing under his grip. Your eyes slowly rolled to the back of your head. With each animalistic thrust of his hips you could feel the bed shake. You could barely hear the frame hit the wall over the sound of your high whines and moans and his low groans filling your ear. But you could still faintly hear it, reminding of how rough he was getting. 

“Alright princess now open your mouth and stick your tongue out.” He commanded from over you. 

You opened your mouth and leaned your head back being sure to lol your tongue out.

You felt a cold liquid settle near the tip of your tongue, it was Kuroo’s spit. He’d let it fall like a fountain. Licking his lips when he’d finished. 

“Now swallow like a good girl.”

You closed your mouth and gulped. Letting the spit slide down your tongue. It should have grossed you out, but instead it made your eyes roll back. 

“Aww, look at you, all pretty and fucked out.” he shrugged, thrusting upwards into you, hitting a spot that made you scream out in ecstasy. 

“Kuroo, right there! Fuck, Kuroo yes right there!!” You moaned, arching your back and throwing your head back. 

That was the first time you cursed. Ever. 

“Such a dirty vocabulary you’re discovering! I’m such a good influence on you, your parents would be so proud.” He sarcastically exclaimed in a low and gravelly voice. 

Your parents. You were so caught up in your pleasure that you completely forgot all about them, and the time limit they'd set for you. You were sure you’d past it, it was fairly dark outside. 

You whined, feeling more tears of disappointment roll down the side of your face. “Do-don’t talk about them right now…Ah-I’m gonna-Kuroo fuck p-please!”

He only thrusted harder faster. “Awe baby, do you think you're the one in control? That’s so cute.” He pulled you by your necklace for the second time that night. “You’re atoning for your sins, and I’m using your body for my own pleasure. So you’re gonna sit back, and make sure the only thing that comes out of that pretty. Little. Mouth,” He punctuated each word with a harsh thrust. “Are those pretty. Little. Moans. You got that princess?” 

“Y-yes sir. I’m so sorry sir.” 

“Awe look at my baby! Using her words like a good girl!” He deeply cooed. 

You bit your lip, holding back the moan you desperately wanted to let out, but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of your voice. He noticed and started to pound faster. You couldn’t hold back anymore. 

“Fuck! Kuroo! Ple-ase! Fuck you’re so good. Sosososo good. Pleeeeease!” 

“Listen to you! You sound downright pathetic!” He laughed at you. It felt humiliating, but you felt yourself getting wetter from the whole situation. The intensity, the humiliation, Kuroo’s groans, they all were filling up your senses, and you could feel yourself nearing your climax. 

“Look at you, you’re getting tighter. How much of a- fuuuuck how is it possible that your tighter- slut are you? You're really getting off to me calling you a slut? You like that? Huh? Go on, answer me whore.”  

“Yes! Yes Kuroo! I’m your whore! Fuuuuuckkkk!” Your moans were high and breathy. 

He pulled you by your necklace one again and snatched it clean off of you. 

You gasped, snapping out of your lustful trance. “Kuroo!!! My dad gave me that!!” You cried. 

“I don’t give a fuck, I’m your god now, you don’t need a stupid cross, I’ll let everyone know you’re mine.” He huffed, dangling it in front of you, before throwing it out his window. 

The window. The window! 

 “K-Kuroo, how long has that be-been open?” You asked. 

He groaned, slowing down his thrust. “The window? It’s been open since this morning.” He shrugged, fucking into you sloppier and sloppier. 

You felt embarrassed, heat rushing over your being as you held onto Kuroo to hide your face. “O-oh…” you moaned, scrunching your eyebrows together in embarrassment. 

“What’s wrong baby? Are you embarrassed? Are you embarrassed that my whole neighborhood can hear how bitchy, and pathetic you sound? Fuck- Good, fucking cry about it like the stupid bitch you are.” 

Each insult brought you closer to that edge. You forgot all about your previous embarrassment and basked in the bliss of Kuroo’s rough thrusts. 

“Holy shit- Did you get tighter from me reminding you of how much of a—shiiiiiitttt—of a fucking slut you are?” His voice sounded so breathy. You could feel him twitching inside of you. 

And then the dam broke. You could feel your orgasm sparking through you like electricity. 

“Kuroo! Kuroo! Im cumm- Im cumming! Oh Fuck! Fuckfuckfuckfuck! You're so good!”

He revelled in the profanities spilling from your mouth, knowing that before this you probably would have never thought about saying such vile things. 

“Oh thats right baby who’s making you cum on his cock like a dumb bitch in heat? Who’s your god? C’mon, say it, princess.” 

“You! Shit! You're my god! Oh please- It’s too much! It's- It’s too much!” 

He laughed at you. “How many fucking—Fuck baby you feel so good—How many times do I have to tell you this isn’t- Shit- This isn’t for you.” The last part came out as a dark growl. 

“Y-Yes sir! I’m sorry.” 

“Yeah that's a good girl, oh you're such a good slut for me. Shutting up and just taking it. Yeahhh that's a good fucking whore. You want your god to cum inside you? Breed you and fill you up so nice? That what you want princess?” 

Your eyes widened. Nononono he couldn’t! He had to pull out! 

“N-No...Please...” Your voice sounded so weak and tiny. 

“Oh no baby, that was rhetorical. You're gonna sit back and let me breed this little pussy like a good girl who stays in her place, because surely- fuck- you remember your place and wouldn’t talk back, now would you?”

You knew it was useless to deny him. You don’t even know why you tried. 

After a few more thrust there was a particularly hard one. The force of fit knocked you back a bit, but he pulled you back by your thighs so he would stay fully buried inside of you. 

Suddenly you felt nothing but warmth filling you. He was cumming inside you. You could feel him shooting spurt after spurt. You had never felt so full, his thick cock splitting you accompanied by his come pushed you to another orgasm. Your legs shot up and you let out a loud whiny moan. 

“Oh god! Oh fuck! You feel so good filling me up Kuroo- Fuck!” 

“Aww you came again from me cumming in you? What happened to you not wanting it?” He teased. You couldn’t respond, you still hadn’t come down from your high. 

_________

You woke up in an unfamiliar location, dark red walls and black sheets were unlike your pastel blue walls and baby pink sheets. You panicked, until memories of your earlier actions came back to you. You weren't completely calm though, you were sure you definitely passed your curfew and Kuroo was nowhere to be found. 

“Kuroo! I need to get home like— now!” 

He entered the room and laughed. “Oh calm down you big baby, I called your folks and said you’d passed out cause you were so tired. Took some convincing, but they’re fine with you spending the night here.”

You sighed, releasing a breath you didn’t know you were holding in. “Oh, thank god.” 

“Speaking of,” He came closer to you. “You down for round two?” 

You felt warmth flood your face and threw a pillow at him. “You pervert!” 

“How am I the pervert when you're the one naked in my bed?” 

He was right, you did feel a cold breeze brush against your cold body as you pulled the covers up. 

“Well then where are my clothes?” 

He winced, itching the back of his neck. “Ya’ see...your skirt is still ripped, but I put your underwear and skirt in the wash. You could wear something of mine though!"

#haikyuu!! #haikyu smut #haikyu x reader #haikyu x reader smut #kuroo smut #kuroo tetsuro x you #kuroo x reader #kuroo x reader smut #kuroo tetsuro oneshot #kuroo tetsuro smut #x reader smut #tw.noncon #tw.cnc #tw.spit #tw.religious imagery #tw.dumbification #tw.degradation

[hansolmates]

shiver | 09

banner by the lovely @dnrequests​

summary; jungkook changed since he moved out of his small town church community and attended college. when he returns for a christmas mass, you suddenly crave a taste of his fun and carefree life. in exchange, jungkook craves a taste of you pairing; bad boy!jungkook x church girl!reader genre/warnings; childhood friends to lovers, coercion, brief childhood friends to enemies, fwb!au, catholic guilt, jungkook is a meanie who eventually turns into a soft tsundere, bicuriosity, sexual exploration, virgin!oc, eventual smut—in this installment, I KNOW it does not take 2 hours to reach level 9 blond esp on asian hair, hair aficionados pls don’t sue me w/c; 879 a/n; last installment before everything comes into place! this pairing is just so delightfully awkward and mildly uncomfortable sometimes, sometimes i try to imagine this pairing in their childhood bumbling around and it still reflects in their adulthood. next part will be tomorrow, and it will be 😳 enjoy! [shiver masterpost]

“They keep saying that there’s this grand plan in the world, and we’re all just itty-bitty fragments of it.” You kick petulantly at the snow that hasn’t been shoveled yet, “small, minor, and insignificant.”

“What do you mean,” Jungkook mumbles, his words warm and grey with frost when he exhales in the cold day.

“I mean that we’re servants to this grand plan,” you say plainly, as if defeated, “and I’m trying to wrap my head around why that doesn’t seem so appealing now.” 

Jungkook never realized how smart you really are. Sure, his parents have told him stories about how you would be able to crunch numbers and create full potluck dinners in a matter of hours, or how you would be able to stop the loudest of babies in the cry room with your softest blanket and a bedtime story. 

You’ve always been questioning, moreto yourself than anything. Jungkook always wondered where the energy went, the hours upon hours of dedication to the deity. Where does this spent exhaustion lead to, is he building up credit to save himself or to serve? 

Your presence is muted, but strong. Your white puffy jacket helps you meld between the snowflakes, your face barely popping out with your scarf wrapped tightly around your neck. The beanie you’re wearing has an oversized white pom-pom, bouncing like a cotton-tailed rabbit as  you walk down the street. 

“Yeah, that scared me a lot,” Jungkook doesn’t know how to add anything articulate, so he settles for being honest, “when I first came to school here, I kinda went wild.” 

“Kinda?” 

“Okay, majorly,” Jungkook sulks, kicking a random stone on the pavement, “fucked around, painted on the walls, did drugs.” 

“You still do those things.”

“Only fucking around with you, like I promised,” Jungkook replies pointedly, “and now I only paint on walls I’m paid to do. And I stopped trying drugs after Easter of freshman year.” 

“Oddly specific,” you put a finger on your lips, “have you ever tried acid?” 

He guaffs, “Do you even know what acid’s like?” 

“Sounds bad. I mean it’s literally called acid.” 

The two of you stop at an intersection. There’s a bunch of stores on both ends of the street. The roads seem to narrow, and you move away from Jungkook and jab your finger in a vague direction, “I have to do something over there,” you say. 

Jungkook raises an eyebrow, “Okay. I’ll wait for you,” he gestures to the bags in his hands. Secondhand textbooks that the two of you went to pick up together. You didn’t plan to meet prior, however happenstance had you two meeting eyes in the corner of the tiny rental store. 

“You don’t have to, we didn’t come together anyway.” 

“You’re being secretive,” Jungkook peeks over to the inconspicuous street, unsure of what you’re planning to do. “Are you going to do something impulsive?” 

“Maybe.” 

“Okay,” he shrugs, “I’ll go do something impulsive too. Meet you here in two hours?” 

You make a face as Jungkook whips the other way, carrying your bags over his shoulder as he crosses the street. A funny guy, you think, as you walk to your intended way. Getting to know Jeon Jungkook as an adult is a whole different ball game. 

Maybe him breaking your heart all those weeks ago was a good thing. A reset. You’re able to see Jungkook for more than the childhood love you held near and dear to your heart. Although that part of yourself might never disappear because first loves are flawed to be unforgettable, it’s nice to constantly be surprised by Jungkook’s mannerisms as a young man. 

When you finally find the shop you enter as quietly as possible, minding the concentration that steeps the room. 

“Jamais Vu Tattoo, can I help you?” you can’t help but smile at the receptionist for unintentionally making a half-rhyme. 

“Hi, I have an appointment with Yoongi?” 

“Your hair!” 

“You like it?” 

Feeling grabby, you get on your tippy toes to admire the freshly dyed locks. Your fingers weave between the white-gold strands, amazed at the fact it only took two hours for it to lift. The toner didn’t pull all the brassiness, however you quite like the dark roots, making him look a little more rugged. You didn’t know that this type of color could be possible in such little time, but then again Jungkook never ceases to surprise you. 

“Your hair’s still a little crunchy,” you muse, feeling a bit of crispy ends despite the trim he also received. 

Jungkook frowns, “It’ll be fine.” 

“I have a hair mask at home, swing by so you can borrow it.” 

“Don’t need a hair mask,” he grumbles, “I have my own.” 

You giggle, scrunching your nose and hiding your nose in your scarf. One thing you used to admire about Jungkook is his attention to cleanliness. In high school, most boys were gross and wouldn’t bother to care for the little things—laundry, a skincare routine, a work ethic. Jungkook makes sure his hair is kempt and his skin clear. 

“It’s cute,” you declare, “and pretty."

“I dyed my hair blond because it’s sexy, not cute,” Jungkook scrunches his brows together. 

“Cute,” you repeat, walking ahead of him and into the street.

#btsguild #btsghostie #btswritingcafe #kwritersworldnet #jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #bts fic #bts x reader

[anystalker707]

Pleasantly Surprising

Pairing: Gerard x Reader Word count: ~ 4 000 Genre: Fluff / Enemies to lovers Summary: (Y/n) meets a nice group of guys in a concert. Warning: Blood, but no violence or wounds description.

Requested on Wattpad

a/n: This one if for you blood kink bastards </3

(Y/p) = Your pronouns

Feeling the cold night air filling my lungs with a faint smell of grass is much better than the smoky and sweaty, heavy air present among the public that gets worse near the mosh pit. I lean back against the brick wall, feeling the cold surface through the thick jeans of my jacket, digging into my shoulder blades as I try to control my breathing, quietly watching the band leaving the stage to give place to another.

My throat feels dry, aching the slightest after I swallow around the sharp and cold breaths, so I look around for a stand to buy at least a soda, ankling over to the nearest one. The line isn't actually that long – thank hell –, but that doesn't prevent a random bastard from trying to cut in line.

"Hey, what in the fuck you think you're doing?" I raise an eyebrow, pulling them back by their collar and they just look at me with this sulky face, bottom lip sticking out and lip ring glowing lightly under the reduced lighting. "No cutting in!"

"Says who?" they retort bitterly. "What you gonna do about it?"

"Aw, bold, aren't we?" I raise an eyebrow, glancing down and... the motherfucker is wearing school clothes, lacking the tie and shirt untucked. Private school. "What are you? Not like the other kids? The line isn't even that long, stupid."

"Fuck off," they sigh, shrugging out of my grip and harshly fixing their clothes.

"Frank– Fuck, Frank, the hell, can't we leave you alone for a single second?" A random voice suddenly interrupts our interaction before a tall person approaches, a motherly and worried air lacing their gaze. They look from me to Frank before exhaling, raising an eyebrow, at which Frank shrugs. "I'm sorry for whatever Frank did, he–"

"Fuck, no, Ray!" Frank cuts them off, "you're not playing the good guy here! I was just trying to–"

"Trying to cut in the line, yeah, very nice of you, isn't it?" I roll my eyes, twisting my mouth. At least he isn't lying, but is he stupid or something? Why would he try to convince us what he was trying to do was alright?

It looks like Frank is going to argue for a second, but ends up just groaning through gritted teeth and looking away with a sigh and tense shoulders.

Ray doesn't look any amused, only observing Frank like who looks at a puzzle after having tried to solve it for weeks without success. They shake their head, turning to me instead. "I'm Ray, he/him, nice to meet you. Sorry for Frank, what he did is... unfortunately usual."

I observe him looking at him from head to toes. School uniform just like Frank's, tucked shirt, loose tie. "Hi. I'm (y/n), (y/p). And don't worry, I would've done the same," I breathe, looking away from the two to hand the person behind the counter the money after pointing to the drink I want.

"What?" Frank gasps. "You would've done the same and still acted all like that towards me?"

I roll my eyes, sighing. "Me doing it doesn't mean I like being affected by it." I grab the change, shoving it in my pocket then step aside for Frank and Ray, cracking the can open.

"Y'know–" Frank crosses his arms over his chest, throwing his nose in the air, "–my momma says that you should treat the others as you want to be–"

"Aw, honey, so you'd like me cutting in the line right in front of you? Shamelessly?" I raise an eyebrow at him, unable to hold back a grin when his face gets bright red, hands balling into fists. Not gonna lie, it's kinda cute how he twists his mouth. Frank is about to curse when Ray is shoving a couple of cans into his hands – a sigh leaves his lips instead. "Two for each?" I question and sip on my drink.

Frank smirks, looking at me with humor. "Yeah, wanna watch me drink them at once?"

Ray rolls his eyes at Frank, shoving him out of the way after noticing there were people behind them. "We're actually with two other friends. Are you alone here? Do you wanna come along?" He smiles, ignoring Frank's complaints, so I opt for doing the same.

"I guess that'd be nice," I hum, shrugging. Otherwise, I'd be going home right now and Ray actually seems nice... I mean, Frank does too, but I'm not feeding his ego.

The other two stand against a brick wall when we find them, both quietly chatting to each other until seeing us approaching. The first one doesn't exactly react, more interested in the can Ray hands him, but the second, greasy punk, hums questioningly, straightening their posture as taking a good look at me almost like I did to Frank earlier. "And who are you?"

"(Y/n), (y/p)," I mutter, looking at them from over the rim of the can, taking a sip of my drink.

"Found lying in the trash when I approached," Frank adds, but doesn't seem so confident after I playfully shove him aside.

"Gerard, he/they," Gerard replies, eyes never averting away from mine. What is he, kind of a gang leader? Got a hell of an ego, though a bit differently from Frank – I'm noticing a pattern here, huh. "Mikey, he/him," he continues, nodding to the other guy.

I throw my empty can in a trashcan before leaning in towards Gerard. He tries to escape the touch, but he's against a wall, there's nowhere to go. How cute. "Belleville High," I say, finally able to make out what the small black letters embroidered on the chest area says, and step away, allowing Gerard to breathe. "Isn't it that private school? Catholic one? Wow, who'd know I'd find BH students here!"

"Stereotyping, are we?" Frank raises an eyebrow. It's impossible holding back a smile at him.

"No, never," I chuckle. "It's just a... rare occurrence. You came here right after school?"

"Not really." Ray shakes his head. "Just didn't have the opportunity to change. Good thing it's Friday, tho," he chuckles humorlessly and I nod in a silent agreement.

"And where do you study?" Frank takes a better look at my face. "If you study, that is."

I scoff, but don't reply just yet. Mikey is the most tidied up out of the four whereas Gerard has his tie loose around his neck, shirt untucked, blazer all wrinkled. "Of course I study, dumbass!" I glare. "But I'm in the public school near the park. But I've seen you before." I nod towards Gerard. "Just don't know where."

Gerard's eyes narrow. "Are you sure?"

"It's not always that I see a greasy vampire looking around, so yeah."

A silence hovers between us for a moment, both of us staring at each other until he feigns unamusement, looking away – I smile with a stupid pride swelling in my chest.

The night ends with us exchanging numbers after a solid hour of joking around and throwing sarcastic insults at each other. Teasing Gerard was particularly fun because he often ran away from the whole joking or at least tried to and even Mikey laughed when it failed, though sometimes succeeding when Frank finally managed to get the spotlight on himself. Ray is sweet, despite being the perfect example for 'looks like a cinnamon roll, but can actually kill you.'

Gerard got my attention, to be honest.

Saturday and Sunday go by quite slowly and thankfully texting the guys every five minutes doesn't make it as depressing as usual. Texting Gerard isn't the same as texting Frank – who replies a text to each word I send him –, however. Gerard often replies with a word or a vague comment and guess what? I'm only more interested.

No Gerard manages to slip between my thoughts during school, but it ends up happening as soon as I step past the gates. Belleville high, isn't it? Shitty elite, but they don't really seem to be like that... let's see if that wasn't just great acting. That's not even a mile away from here. I look down the street, the direction opposite to where I would usually go. It won't hurt to say hi, right? Not to mention I've got nothing to do for the rest of the day.

Belleville High's classes finish about ten minutes later compared to my school's, so I don't bother walking too fast, but not slow enough to let my palms get clammy or overthink anything. Amazing how I can feel like this about people I only met once. Okay, whatever, take a deep breath because I guess I know these curls.

"Look at who we have here!" I throw an arm around Frank's neck, interrupting whatever they were doing and attracting wide eyes towards me. Turns out I found them earlier than expected, hanging out in the park.

"Damn, are you everywhere?" Frank raises an eyebrow at me and presses his lips together, though never stepping away. Blood?

"Who knows?" I joke. "Also..." I trail off, only now taking a good look at them. "Man, what in the hell fucking happened to you guys? Seriously–" I yank a paper off Frank's back, sighing at the 'kick me' written across it and hand it to him, shaking my head. What fucking idiot did this? How the hell did they even get into a fight? It doesn't seem like they were fighting each other.

Frank groans poorly, wadding the paper into a ball and tossing it at the nearby trash can. He's got a few scratches above his eyebrows and blood trailing down the corner of his lips. Mikey and Gerard are probably in the best state out of the four – Gerard got blood trailing down his nose and same for Mikey, though on opposite sides and Mikey's cheek is smeared with blood. I can't say the same about Ray... I don't know how he's not even wincing with all that blood trailing down his face.

"Well," Mikey breathes, bringing a hand to the back of his head, "you can say that–"

"Why do you even want to know?" Gerard steps forward, hands clenched into fists by his sides. "You got nothing to do with it, okay?"

"Aw," I breathe a chuckle. So he wants things to happen like this? But does he have the nerve to keep it? I may not have known him for long, but the attitude is clearly foreign, unmatching. "And what, baby? You lost, didn't you? And you're a fucking sore loser!"

"I just don't see why you should know." He twists his mouth, looking at me uninterested, but it doesn't take long until he's looking at me with these eyes, irises barely seen, eyebrows scrunched close. "And don't talk to me like that! Maybe it would even be better if you fucked off and left us alone, don't you think?"

Man, he talks a lot. Too much. No wonder why he's in such a state. Maybe he'll shut up if I...

"Holy..." Frank trails off with a quiet chuckle and I'm certain Gerard would have glared at him if he wasn't processing what just happened.

Meanwhile, Mikey and Ray stare at me with wide eyes – as wide as Gerard's, but they're not as petrified as Gerard is, for sure, only with hesitant, unsure grins on their faces. I suppress the urge to laugh at Gerard, instead more focused on rubbing my tongue against the roof of my mouth, trying to get rid of the salty and metallic taste.

A quiet sound comes from Gerard as he finally moves, maybe a groan, not sounding really comfortable. He brings a hand up to his lips. The perfect trail of almost dry blood is now smudged, following the direction I licket it to, having the blood smeared across his chin and bottom lip. "Ugh, ugh, ugh," he groans, frantically cleaning his lips and chin with the back of his wrist, against the sleeve of his blazer. "What the fuck? You're gross!"

I roll my eyes with a sigh. "Man, I wonder why I thought being an asshole could be solved."

"Eh, trust me, he isn't normally like this," Ray says with a shrug, looking at Gerard like if he was a chained angry dog even after receiving a glare.

No one gives Gerard's tantrum much attention as we soon sit down on the grass and change the subject before we can notice. Surprisingly, Gerard sits down next to me. Even more surprisingly, he leans closer at some point and whispers, "well, look at who's the vampire now."

Saying Gerard's words got stuck in my head would be an understatement. Maybe it's a nightmare, maybe it's not, but it does get me randomly blushing or stupidly grinning during random times of the day. Nonetheless, school the following day does help a bit with cleaning my head a little.

After a few hours of staring at blackboards, the setting changes to staring at records hanging on the walls and it's honestly better. Incoherent, loud chatter being changed to music of my choice is a lot better, even if I need to talk to a customer now and then.

"This is the place I told you about. I've only been here once, but it seems good," a voice says from the outside, but I don't look up from my homework.

"Never been here," someone else says. A pause follows then their footsteps sound clearer and I sigh, shoving my things on the space under the counter.

"Hello, good afternoon," I say automatically, holding back a groan at how my eraser insists on falling and grabbing it fast. "How can I help you?" I finally look up just to freeze. And the four have the same reaction, to be honest. "I knew I had seen you before," I say to Gerard.

"What a small world!" Frank approaches, immediately narrowing his eyes and throwing his nose in the air as looking over to me. "So you're not a rebel who only wanders around and goes to free concerts during the night and stalks us?" He raises an eyebrow, looking around the place, inspecting the shelves full of records and CDs.

"So you only got one set of clothes?" I mock, staring at his school uniform.

Frank exhales, shoulders dropping. "We just got here from school." He motions vaguely to his messenger bag and I nod, humming, not like it matters a lot.

While we talk, Ray and Mikey wander around, talking quietly to each other and sometimes taking a record in hand, but Gerard... he stands there awkwardly, observing Frank and I with a lost gaze. What is he doing? Trying to act all cool like last time? Or doesn't know how to react?

"Hello," I greet, which sounds more like a question. Frank turns around to look at him, apparently understanding Gerard as much as I do.

Gerard presses his lips together and steps forward, also leaning against the counter. "You didn't mention you work here."

"Didn't have a reason to." I shrug.

The corner of his lips twitch and he's holding eye contact until sighing. "Okay, whatever. Got anything new on Misfits or Pumpkins? Also, Bauhaus." He glances at me, black strands falling over his eyes for a moment before he's pulling them away. Cute.

"Of course." I grin, moving to the cabinets behind the counter.

Frank eventually darts off as I show Gerard the records and cassettes like he wanted. I glance around to make sure Frank is paying attention to whatever Mikey is telling him and Ray before I turn to Gerard again, grinning lightly. "Y'know," I mutter, leaning forward with my elbows over the counter. "I've got passes for a bar concert tonight. Wanna come?"

"What do you mean by passes?" His eyes never avert from the records – he runs his fingers over them delicately, examining each of them closely.

"Each ticket was about ten dollars and they're sold out, but the store is sponsoring the event and I got free passes." I smirk, watching his eyebrows raise lightly. "I usually can get one person in with me. What do you say?"

He pauses. "Why me?"

"Because you're the one I know the least." And also the one I'm interested in. "Pick you up at seven, what do you say?"

He sighs. "I'll text you my address."

.

"Wow, you're..." Gerard stares at me with a blank face, standing there and letting all the cold air get in. He rushes into the car, closing the door carefully.

"I'm...?" I raise an eyebrow, sinking my foot down on the gas, pulling away from the sidewalk.

"I don't know." Silence. "Not what I expected."

"Glad to know." I grin. "You're also not what I expected. You're never what I expect, to be honest..." He wasn't all open in the beginning, but also wasn't the asshole he was in the park – in his defence, at least, he had just gotten out of a fight, nerves still on edge. At the store, however, he seemed more like himself. "Also, you're looking good."

Gerard's eyes are surrounded by eyeliner and a red eyeshadow – definitely nothing I would see him in, but also nothing I'm disappointed about –, bringing out his paleness. And for the first time, he isn't wearing that stupid school uniform and fancy shoes are replaced by platform boots. A leather jacket clutches his shoulders, decorated with a few studs and patches, and covering a nice Slipknot shirt. And there are his jeans, fucking tight and I swear I hadn't noticed this guy got such a nice ass and, fucking hell, it's difficult not staring at his thighs flat on the seat, with a chain falling over one of them.

"Thank you," he mutters quietly. Even in the reduced lighting, I can see his cheeks gaining a red tone before he looks away.

The place is crowded, but not overly – which is why the tickets were even sold, at first place – and it's fun seeing Gerard's chin drop when he looks at the sign of the place. To simplify, everyone is either always wanting to play in this bar or come watch someone play and the tickets are not only always sold in small quantities, but also expensive.

"Let's go," I chuckle after having spent a good moment observing Gerard.

We jog across the street, towards the entrance, just straight away skipping the whole line. The guy in charge of letting people in looks at us indifferently, in a silent question, muscles clear under the tight staff shirt. Even if there's no visible difference in his expression, he does relax a bit after I show him my pass and steps aside to let us in.

"Wow," Gerard mutters, almost inaudibly.

"You like it?" I ask as we walk through the people. No answer comes. He stayed back, of course; the boy is kinda shy and hesitant, after all. "C'mon!" I take a hold of his hand to pull him with me until we're in the bar area, which's much calmer. He stands there for a moment, looking around, until I point at one of the stools, sitting down on the one beside it.

Gerard shifts on his seat, hands resting on his lap and clenched into fists. He observes everything with wide eyes and I can't bring myself to avert my attention away from him. He's beautiful.

When the band starts playing, however, the atmosphere starts changing. It's a classic punk band – the kind of people you'd see around in skate lanes, spraying anarchist messages on a building's wall or behind a McDonald's counter – and the music is good, nonetheless, raw and emotional and demanding. Great to dance to.

Gerard is shy, as already stated – what makes me wonder how he even agreed on coming –, taking a good time to actually stand up from the stool and join me.

His hand is warm under mine, maybe not as warm as his cheeks seem to be. I had taken it in mine to pull him up from the stool, only, but he didn't let go and... oh well. Aren't you interesting, Gerard? I grin to myself and take his other hand to pull him to dance with me; that if you consider moving around to the rhythm of the song some kind of dance, but Gerard doesn't complain.

I'm not sure how much time goes by – I only question myself about that once the band is saying good night, breathing audibly as they get off the stage. The live music is replaced by a momentary incoherent chatter when loud music fills the place again, this time coming from the speakers. Gerard and I are out of breath when averting our attention from the stage to each other. My arms feel a bit sore after all of that, almost the opposite to my numb legs.

"Wanna grab a drink?" I nod towards the bar. "We can go to the alley to take a breath, then."

"Sounds good."

The non-alcoholic drinks are as cold as the night air, suddenly making it even more obvious how much we jumped around to the band's sound. We lean against the wall opposite to the side of the bar and I look at Gerard, watching his chest rise and fall fast, only coming to a longer pause when he brings the glass to his lips. He observes something above us, maybe the sky, but I don't care.

"Your nose is bleeding again." I suddenly note, seeing the dark red trail now almost reaching his upper lip. Not a surprise. He hurt his nose not much over a day ago and all the jumping must have opened the wound.

"Fuck." Gerard brings a hand to his nose and sighs when seeing the red stain on his fingers; I chuckle softly, halfheartedly. "What? You wanna lick it again?" he teases, raising an eyebrow at me. He apparently opts for not ruining the sleeve of his leather jacket, regarding it more than his school blazer.

I roll my eyes, smiling helplessly. "Well, if you'd like me to," I decide to tease back, looking at him through half lidded eyes.

"Ah, you wouldn't dare!" He chuckles, blood staining his lips according to how he talks.

"You think so, honey?" I raise an eyebrow. A few stutters come from him, but I just grab his glass and set it aside with mine, on the ground, before stepping towards him. "Tell me, why are you always so... bold around me? It's clear it's not part of you, as Ray even said." I suppress a humorous chuckle at how he frantically backs away against the wall, having nowhere to go. This brings me memories. "Maybe it has a specific reason?"

Gerard's eyes are wide, lips twitching, though no word ever comes through and his expression changes instantly once I get a hold of his hips and pin him to the wall. Feeling the heat coming from his cheeks is almost possible and all that resistance is gone, tendering into compliance and shyness.

"Look at you, Gerard," I mutter, rubbing circles into his hips as leaning in. "How surprising can you be?"

Having Gerard only letting out a quiet whine in response as his hands rest hesitantly over my shoulders make my heart flutter in my chest. I finally lean in, pressing my lips to Gerard's; he returns the kiss right away, lips sliding against mine easily.

And there it is; the rich metallic taste of Gerard's blood. I run my tongue over his bottom lip, snatching a hum from him, which turns into a whining-gasp once my teeth sink into it slightly.

His hands tighten around my shoulders, I grip harder onto his hips in consequence and he's sent relaxing back against the wall. He never had control over the kiss, but he's suddenly just giving up on the power at once with a quiet sound, slowly wrapping his arm around my neck to pull me closer and I gladly deepen the kiss.

"Wow, love," I breathe as soon as we part the kiss, lungs screaming for air. Gerard doesn't reply verbally, with his lips brushing lightly against mine and, by now, the blood is starting to get sticky, on its way to drying, also on my lips.

"I hope we can go out more often," he mutters shyly, not long before burying his face in the crook of my neck.

#gerard way imagine #gerard way #gerard x reader #oneshot #imagine #x reader #reader insert #male reader #female reader #mcr fanfic #mcr x reader #mcr imagine #frank iero #ray toro #mikey way #my chemical romance #fan fic #fanfiction #fanfic #gender neutral reader #non binary reader #fluff #enemies to lovers

[unidentifiedflyingfks]

THE BOONDOCKS SAINTS (2000)

Or, A Lesson in Ridiculousness.

Starring: Norman Reedus, Sean Patrick Flanery, William Dafoe, David Della Rocco, and adult film star Ron Jeremy

This was a big deal when it came out. Multiple friends from high school got Boondock Saints tattoos (see the bottom for their gofundmytattooremoval link), every incel was ready to change the world with a gun and a trench coat, and Norman Reedus had apparently peaked. Boys, it’s The Boondock Saints!

The movie follows two Irish Catholic brothers on a vigilante mission from God to ‘clean up the streets’. Equipped with matching tattoos, trench coats, rosaries, and some dope shades, these brothers are ready to dish out some ass whoopin’s—church style. FUCK YEAH! Spiritus sancti.

No, I don’t hate the movie. It’s actually one of my favorites. The early scene where he throws the toilet off the building is badass and it’s fun and entertaining throughout, but I don’t think it’s supposed to be funny for any of the reasons I love it. I could also do with less preachiness, ToO DeEP FoR YeW. For example, violence seems like an easy option if you’re willing to do it, but in real life it’s been proven over and over that violence begets violence. New crime bosses will show up, lives will be made harder by their actions, even if others are saved, then there’s casualties like Rocco, ect. It’s the same logic behind my view of Taxi Driver—a desperate man wants to make a difference, but in a way that will be most gratifying to his own ego. The difference to me (apart from one being a cinematic masterpiece and one being hot trash) is that Taxi Driver still ends with ambiguity, whereas The Boondock Saints goes out of its way to say that their actions are just, law or not, and that even God condones and even encourages it. A bold statement from a film that plays like a campy action movie. The plot doesn’t even make much sense…ah. Anyway… Again I actually do like this movie. Smh.

So it starts off with the brothers at the end of their rope with the violence in their city, they’ve had enough! So after their simultaneous and semi-erotic visits from God or something after a night in jail, they set out on their mission. Their friend Rocco is involved with the city’s crime bosses, including Ron Jeremy, so he gives the brothers the intel to bring them down. After a few synchronized killings, Rocco eventually joins them, but isn’t badass enough like the brothers to survive and is killed off.

We also get William Dafoe on his knees doing fingers guns, William Dafoe in drag (incidentally my Halloween costume last year), William Dafoe listening and dancing to classical music in crime scenes… his whole character is unbelievable. Here’s his best quotes -> ->

“Looks like we’ve got us a cowboy.”

“Kinda makes me feel like river dancing.”

“Cuddle? Whatta fag.”

and of course,

“There was a FIIIUAHHH FIGHTTT!”

After a brutal shootout, the brothers meet Papa Boondock, their long lost dad AKA the guy with 6 guns and together they raise hell in a courtroom and warn the people to stay in check. THE END!

Never forget—pour ammonia on the blood!!

***3.5/5 FFs CULT STATUS

#the boondock saints #boondock saints #norman reedus #william dafoe #action #action movies #revenge movie #film #movies #cult classic #cult movies #fandom #cinema #b movie #sean patrick flanery #ron jeremy #ridiculous #movie blog #movie review #film review #film analysis #film critique #moviegeek #moviebuff #movienerd #nostalgia #the boondocks #catholiscism #review #writeups

[akaraboonline]

7 Harsh Truths About Dating Someone of a Different Religion

I assumed that religion would make things more difficult, but boy, was I wrong — especially if one of you (him) comes from an extremely religiously observant family. 7 Harsh Truths About Dating Someone of a Different Religion In light of the many compromises, strange conversations, and awkward moments we've had in the last two years, I'm dropping a few truths on you in case you find yourself at a bar/on Match.com/being set up/accidentally falling in love with someone who doesn't share your religion. 1. Your parents may be more (or less) okay with it than you think When I told my father I was seriously dating a Jew, he was skeptical and chose to dance around the issue, expressing his feelings through silence that eventually led to reluctant acceptance. My mother, on the other hand, was overjoyed that I had finally found someone who pushed me and kept up with me. He could have been an alien from the planet CrazyBoyfriend and she would still love him, accept him — and, more importantly, accept us. Alex's parents, on the other hand, refused to meet with me for a year, but that's another story. 2. Prepare to answer the hard questions early The ones you don't even touch until three or four months into the relationship because you're afraid of looking like a psychopath? Yeah. On our second date, we got those bad boys out of the way. Alex: Would you ever become a Christian? Me: What are your thoughts on Christmas? We both drew our lines in the sand early on, and while it was uncomfortable, we both knew that if this relationship was going to stand a chance, we needed to see if we could agree on The Important Things. Thankfully, we did, for the most part. 3. One of you thought it was a fling Alex revealed about a year into the relationship that he never thought this relationship would last - our differences were simply too jarring - and that he planned to end it when he returned to Israel to finish medical school. That is, until he realized he couldn't physically. He adored me far too much. (I apologize for embarrassing you!) Because I've seen far too many rom-coms, I pushed any doubts to the back of my mind, preferring to romanticize us as star-crossed lovers. 4. One of you will backpedal on the aforementioned Important Things Remember when I said Alex and I mostly agreed on the important stuff? Know that it's far easier to make concessions (Yes, my love, I am completely open to keeping kosher) when you're in the throes of a courtship, lusting after each other so hard it makes you dizzy. You feel as if you would go to any length for this person — until you don't. Until you're a little more at ease, and then, wait a minute, this kosher thing is really, really hard, and I feel like I'm compromising more than you are, and HOLY HELL, WE'VE OPENED PANDORA'S BOX. 5. Say sayonara to your dream wedding I break out in hives just thinking about a wedding involving both my and Alex's families. The customs officers! The kosher chef! The fusion dancing! At this point, I'm more inclined to make a visit to the Justice of the Peace to eventually make it official, but then I think: Hey, wait a minute, why do I have to give up MY childhood wedding dreams just because our families might be super-weird together? Sigh. I hesitate. 6. You'll be forced to confront your own prejudices I'm ashamed to admit that before meeting Alex, I made a few crude Jewish jokes; the same goes for him and Catholics. But we're much more sensitive now, and we're much quicker to call out racist and anti-Semitic remarks disguised as "humor." When there's a face behind the caricature, things quickly become less amusing and more personal.

7. You will be brought together by guilt.

As Alex always says, Jews invented guilt, and Catholics perfected it. A part of me will always feel as if I'm not staying true to my roots (even though I had given up on Catholicism in high school). And a part of me realizes that by choosing to be with Alex, I'm making things more difficult for my family, my future children, and myself. Read the full article