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xplicitviewz · 23 days ago

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Eren didn't mean to, but he did personally hire you, there was just something about you…

You were walking around the neighborhood looking for new work- your boss, well, old boss as of 30 minutes ago, just let you go. Deciding against going through the process of answering gigs on Facebook or Craigslist, you start knocking on doors. Plus, you were already in a well-off neighborhood, so someone had to need or maybe even give in to the idea of having a regular housekeeper. When Eren opens the door, you flinch back as you were leaving your business card at the crack of the door after thinking no one was home.

"You scared me." You laugh softly before you start professionally advertising yourself begging for a job, "Hello, Im {</3}, I am a housekeeper looking for work," you know... the works. Eren was working from home, barely hearing the doorbell go off at first. He was surprised himself thinking it was the regular delivery people needing a package signed off.

Eren didn't mean to disregard Mikasa when she would tell him there was no need for a maid, but he convinced her (time after time) that you were a good investment. He knew how busy they both were with their shared company. The amount of hours they spent at the office, "That way we can just come home and relax after a long day and spend time with each other." He kissed softly under her ear leaving a small trail down her neck, and pulling her close into his body in a way she changed her mind.

Eren didn't mean to adjust his schedule so he could work from home more than usual. Leaving both of you alone together while his wife works at the office. Eren glances up from his annoyingly bright computer and number of papers scattered across his desk once he hears the footsteps of (<3).

Eren didn't intend to watch you walk by, subconsciously sucking in a breath. He definitely didn't intend for his eyes to trail up and down your body as you walked by (in slow motion to him), his eyes focused on your ass in those black tights, the way your thighs rub against each other, pushing the mini cart carrying cleaning supplies. He swears it was on purpose when one of the disposable gloves falls on the floor, watching as you pick it up.

Eren didn't want to pump his dick in his hand, but his thoughts ran crazy. He didn't even bother to get up from his office chair to at least crack the door shut. He had his head leaned back, while manspreaded in his office chair. Eren bit his lower lip, holding back his quiet grunts and whines, his chest heaving while his abs flexed. all over his hands while he pictures your own hands (the ones he got to look at weekly when handing you a check for your services), tending to his selfish, dirty needs. Eren moves his hands faster up and down is dick, using his ither hand to rub his tip. Choking back a moan, his abs tense at the stimulation he you was giving himself. "Shit (<3)." He mutters, throwing his head back into his office chair, his legs spreading further apart as his hip buckle. Eren’s mind flashes to you bending over to pick up the glove. It didn't take long for him to cum, spurts of it landing on his shirt, and all over his hands. Eren didn't expect to think about you multiple times while he was buried deep in Mikasa, later in the day.

Eren didn't mean to accidentally come across {<3} (he purposely looked for you.) slightly bent over cleaning the bathtub. Eren couldn't help but feel his erection grow harder as he saw your perfectly plump ass moving while you scrub the tub.

It was out of his control when he grabbed your hips, pressing his bulge into you. His hands find the waistband of your tights as he pulls them down. He slowly thrust his throbbing cock (with too many fabrics in his way) on you through your panties. "Keep cleaning." He spanks your ass, getting on his knees placing his hands around your thighs, his grip tightening as he pulled you closer to him.

"I-" you stumble your words, "Sir, I don't thi-" but you get cut off by Eren's tongue licking you through your panties, letting out a groan from between your legs while he gropes your ass. Your lips part, letting out a soft gasp as you try to ignore the arousal growing and focus on cleaning the tub. Eren pulls your panties down, his tongue teasingly plays with your pussy soon forgetting the words that were going to leave your mouth.

You couldn't believe the way you were pathetically begging for more while Eren's fingers went in and out of you. "Oh fu-fuck" you whimper out arching your back and pushing your ass into his fingers. Your walls clenching and spewing more as he's degrading you, sucking and nipping lightly on the back of your bruised thighs. "Slutty ass pussy," his teeth sinking harder into your sensitive skin.

Your eyes flutter when you feel him add another finger in. The scrub brush hits the bottom of the tub after it slips out of your gloved hands and finds its way to the bath wall. He adds another finger, scissoring them. You push your ass further back wanting more. The previous thoughts of right and wrong went straight out your head after feeling his tongue sucking around your puffy clit.

Eren's arms snake around your thighs holding your trembling legs open and still, nose deep in your gushy cunt. His moans vibrate through your body, eyes rolling. "P-please sir." You whimper (begging) at his never-ending torment.

Only then did Eren part away, admiring you bent over, hands placed on the shower wall, legs spread open. He licks his lips, moaning at the taste of you as his dick throbs in his pants. You let out a low whine, squirming your hips at the loss of his touch, earning a small chuckle from him.

"Do I have to teach you to use your words properly?" He spanks your ass hard and your body jerks forward, knees hitting the outside of the tub. "No, Sir." You croak out as he spanks you again. You wiggle your hips again, wanting- needing more. He sucked his teeth, "Such an eager little thing hm." Your knees buckle, clenching on air. He spits on your drooling needy little cunt, blowing softly at your winking hole. Eren watches as his saliva drips down your folds, straight to your clit.

"Please, Sir, I want more." You whisper through your soft whimpers. Eren smirks licking against your clit, circling it a few times, up to your entrance. His tongue fucking you while he palms himself. He sucks on your clit and pulls his dick out his pants, moaning in relief when he starts jerking himself off again. You squirmed your hips in his face side to side moaning at the vibrations he was creating.

It wasn’t long before he had his cock buried in you, your back pressed against his clothed chest, your shirt raised up over your chest. His hands are snaked around you, one groping your boobs and the other wrapped around your neck, while his cock pounds in to you, leaving you a moaning hot-mess. Such filthy words he was saying, filthy words that were getting you off.

“Look at you, about to cum on a married man’s cock.” He groans into your ear, biting the shell. Your pussy dripping, gripping his cock so good, better than anything he has ever felt before. You whine out, arching your back even more. His hand drops from your boob to your clit, rubbing circles. “P-please sir, so so close.” You moan, your hips rock against his thrusts.

“Fuck, cum, cum all over my cock, wanna feel how hard you cum fucking your boss hmmm.” He hums rubbing your wet puffed out clit faster, fucking you harder. Your eyes roll and you see white dots as you cum gushing all over his cock. Legs tremble as he places your hands on the wall and grips your hips, pounding in you sensitive hole mercilessly. Your hands slip as your mouth drops open. He holds you up when your knees buckle, “Fuck you take me so well, pussy so stretched out from my dick, can’t even stand anymore.” Eren spanks your ass, the slap echos as your body jumps nearly hitting your head on the shower wall. “How are you gonna finish cleaning my house hmm. Maybe I should fill you up so you are dripping my cum out of you. That’ll give you a reason to scrub my floors, give me a reason to fuck your slutty pussy all over again.” He teasingly chuckles, as his nails grip into your hips creating crescents.

“Yes please.” You moan out desperately trying to hold your arms up again, every snap of his hips make your hands slip on the shower tile. “Shit, you better take all of it then.” Eren moans, throwing his head back as he feels his balls squeeze and dick throb inside, he grabs your hair pulling you back into a mean arch, his pace moving impossibly faster.

“Please, give i- it to m-me sir plea-nnghhh- please.” Your loud moans echo the bathroom alongside skin slapping against each other. Eren lets out a loud whimper/grunt as he cums deep inside you, holding you in place as he fills you up.

Before you both could say or do anymore, you both hear the front door open, “Eren, I’m home.” Mikasa calls out…

Let’s just say your next check was a few thousand more than your last one.

*not proofread*

Thinking about making this a mini fic so let’s call this a preview ;)

Ex-husband!Eren

Sylus mini

Nerd!armin x reader x boyfriend!eren

#fae's lore #eren fanfiction #erenyeager #aot x poc!reader #aot au #aot smut #eren x black fem!reader #eren yaeger x reader #eren jaeger x you #jjk x poc!reader #jjk choso #jjk nanami #jjk y/n #jjk drabble #aot x reader #aot drabbles #jjk gojo #jjk x reader #jjk headcanons

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tomatoluvr69 · 5 months ago

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Ok well it took me 40 minutes to write a two sentence email now I’m gonna drink down an ominous vial of something labeled ‘XXX’ and do a family guy style pratfall down my nearest staircase

Thoughts and prayers for me yall. Bought a plane ticket in October but procrastinated asking for time off bc of no work for one month after Helene. Leaving on trip in less than a week. Fucked this one up lads

#aaaaaaaaaaaaaaa #I need to by a craigslist exercise bike so I can hop on it and go crazy for a few min in times like these #*buy

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fairytaleendingss · 6 months ago

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Room For One More?

Chapter 1

Summary: After a sudden eviction from your home, your friend Mary puts you in contact with her high school friends, James, Sirius and Remus who just so happen to be in need of a roommate. However, living with a group of boys you’ve never met before proves to be more complicated than you expected; especially when they’re all so attractive.

CW: None I don’t think.

Pairing: Poly!Marauders x fem!reader

——

To say that life had been crazy lately would be putting it lightly. You had only just moved to the city six months ago, in pursuit of a career you were still yet to achieve, got landed with an office job that you were only barely qualified for, and the eviction notice on the door of your shitty downtown apartment was just the icing on the cake.

For a good few days it seemed like your world was caving in around you as you tried to collect yourself and figure out the next steps. In a city like London, real estate was scarce, not to mention expensive, and you were still working to pay off your student loans.

It was only two days before you were set to be kicked out when your new friend, Mary stepped in and saved the day.

You met Mary at your new office job and she’d been somewhat of a saving grace from the beginning.

She had been a splash of colour in a sea of black suits and beige blouses. She’d been quick to introduce herself, inviting you to join her for lunch on your first day, during which she caught you up on all the ins and outs of office politics. The two of you had become fast friends, something you were extremely grateful for.

And you found yourself even more grateful for her, as her car pulled into the driveway of the apartment building you were about to call your new home.

“How do you know these guys again?” You asked, glancing up at the red brick structure through the passenger window.

“We all went to high school together,” She explained. “I know them really well, trust me they’re great guys.”

You believed her. She’d never given you a reason not to. But still, moving into a household with three strange men that you’ve never met, is bound to be daunting nonetheless.

“And you’re 100% sure they’re okay with me moving in? I mean, they don’t even know me!”

She only giggled. “Don��t be silly! They’re completely on board. They’ve been looking for a new roommate since their other friend Peter moved out a month ago to get a place with his girlfriend, Sybil. They were just about to put up an ad on Craigslist, for heavens sake. Trust me, you’re doing them a favour. If I love you, they’ll love you too.”

You nodded at her but your heart still hummed unsurely in your chest. You took a deep breath. It was now or never.

After a treacherous journey up the narrow staircase with boxes in hand, you arrived at the door to the apartment. Mary was behind you, lugging a suitcase full of your clothes. You wished, for a moment that her friends at least lived in a building that had an elevator. You erased that thought from your mind a moment later, when you remembered that these people were doing you a massive favour. Besides, you were hardly in a position to complain.

Taking a deep breath, you knocked on the door. When it swung open you had to make a conscious effort to pick your jaw up off the floor.

Standing in front of you was the most attractive man you’ve ever seen. He was fair and lean with long strands of dark hair fanning his face. He was chiseled in a way that made him look delicate, almost doll-like but he also had tattoos lining his arms and chest, which you could see poking out from beneath his white t-shirt. He was leaning against the doorframe, effortlessly cool, looking down at you with a flirtatious smirk on his face.

“Hey there gorgeous. You must be the new roommate. I’m Sirius.”

You peered up at him in shock, not quite sure how to respond to this man who had the face of a Greek God. And did he just call you gorgeous? You weren’t sure what you were expecting but this definitely wasn’t it.

“Um, hi,” you stumbled awkwardly. Your hands felt clammy even just looking at this guy, how the hell are you supposed to live with him? “I’m y/n.”

His grin only widened “Pretty name for a pretty girl.”

“Ugh, stop flirting with her Sirius! And move out of the way, this stuff we’re carrying is heavy you know.”

You’d almost forgotten Mary was there until she’s stepping forward, shoving past Sirius who was blocking the doorway, and entering the apartment.

“Sorry hun, just trying to make conversation,” Sirius teased, stepping aside gently to let you in.

The place was bigger than you expected. Not huge but definitely comfortable, and better decorated. The picture you’d created in your imagination could only be described as a “bro cave” with bean bags on the floor and minimal furnishings. However, you were pleasantly surprised to see that the place is rather nice and homey, with comfortable leather furniture and a few framed artworks on the walls.

“Well, welcome home,” Sirius said, following you into the living room. “I can’t take any credit for the interior design, unfortunately. That was all Remus. Speaking of, I’ll go get him. I’m sure he’ll be happy to meet you.”

Sirius padded off down the hall, making his way to one of the rooms and banging heavily on the door.

“Remus! The new roommate is here! Don’t be rude and come and meet her!”

The boy that emerged was equally as attractive as Sirius. He was taller than the first boy, with a mop of sandy hair and dark, piercing eyes. He wasn’t as effortlessly cool as Sirius, he was more lanky and hunched in posture, but he had a sort of nerdy charm about him that was very endearing. He was dressed in a thick woollen jumper and his hair was mattered. He blinked up at Sirius, like he hadn’t quite caught up with the situation yet.

“What’s going on?”

Sirius just rolled his eyes. “Our new roommate is here! Come and say hello!”

He peered out of the doorway. Looking in either direction before his eyes landed on you. Not quite sure what to do with yourself, you sent him an awkward wave.

“Hi,”

“Hi,” he replied in return, with a tight lipped smile. Then he turned back to Sirius.

“Could you go away now please? I was having a nap.”

“Fine. Sorry.”

There door was abruptly slammed in his face.

You stood in the living room, holding a box to your chest awkwardly, and you couldn’t help but feel slightly uncomfortable about the interaction. Sirius could apparently tell, and was quick to jump to your aid.

“Don’t worry about him,” he said dismissively. “He’s just in a mood. He’s a med student and all the studying is driving him wild at the moment. He’ll come good after he gets a bit of sleep. Now, how about I show you to your room?”

He directed you down the hallway to a door at the end. Inside, you could already see Mary hanging up your clothes in the wardrobe.

“So this is you,” Sirius muttered, gesturing to the space like a magician revealing his assistant had not, in fact, been sawed in half. Then he sent you another flirtatious smile, something you were quickly learning was a signature of his.

“I’ll leave you girls to it but just shout if there’s anything you need. Although, if you want someone to help carry boxes, I’d recommend waiting until James gets home later on. He’s the athletic one of the three of us. And let me tell you those stairs are a killer.”

You chuckled, a genuine smile overtaking your face for the first time in this whole experience.

“Thanks Sirius. I appreciate it.”

“Don’t mention it,” he drawled, giving you a wink.

Mary rolled her eyes. “Okay Sirius. Thank you but you can go now. We have a lot of unpacking to do here.”

Once Sirius had departed, you and Mary got to work on unpacking your things. Luckily for you, Peter had left behind a bed frame and a few pieces of furniture in his move, a saving grace considering most of your stuff had come with the previous apartment. You still had a mattress strapped to the roof of Mary’s car that needed bringing in, but like Sirius had said, Mary insisted that you wait for the mysterious James to return from work to help you carry any of the heavier items inside (With the way the others talked about him, you could only imagine he must be a superhero). Instead you busied yourself with unpacking your random assortment of trinkets collected over the years.

“So how are you feeling about the place?” Mary pried, unpacking a few shoe boxes into the bottom of the closet.

“It seems alright,” you admitted. “To be honest, I was a little nervous going into this but Sirius seems nice. I think he and I will get along.”

Mary smiled. “Oh good! I knew you’d like it. And just wait until you get to know the other boys better too. You’ll fit right in! I’m sure of it.”

You have her an anxious smile. “I really hope you’re right.”

—

It was a few hours later, when the sound of the door clicking open caught your attention.

“Honey! I’m home!” A playful voice boomed down the doorway.

You slowly emerged from your room to greet your final roommate. The guy was visibly buff and wearing a mud-covered jersey. He had matted tuft of thick dark curls and round glasses that balanced on the edge of his nose.

You couldn’t help but admire him as he kicked his shoes off.

“Hi. I’m y/n. I’m your new roommate.”

He looked up curiously before his expression morphed into a dazzlingly charming smile. He began to approach you and you held out a hand for him to shake. He bypassed the gesture all together, instead choosing to engulf you in a bone-crushing hug.

You were caught a little off-guard at first but tentatively hugged him back, heat rising in your cheeks as you felt the muscles of his biceps flex against you.

Pull yourself together!! You thought.

As he pulled away, he looked down at you, a few stray curls falling in front of his eyes. He smiled widely, reminding you somewhat of a playful puppy.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you!” He exclaimed. “Mary’s told me so much about you.”

You couldn’t help the smile that crept onto your own face as you looked up at him. You really liked James, you decided.

“How have you been settling in so far?” He continued.

“Pretty well, I suppose. I’ve done most of my unpacking now.”

He nodded. “That’s good. Well if you need help with anything, let me know. I’d be happy to assist.”

You grimaced. “Actually there is one thing you might be able to help me with?”

He raised a brow expectantly.

“How do you feel about mattress transportation?”

—

Manoeuvring a queen sized mattress up three floors of narrow stairs proved to be a challenging task. But somehow, between the two of you, you managed it.

By the time James actually wrestled the mattress on your bed-frame, you were just about ready to collapse on top of it.

Mary, unfortunately, had found the whole display hilarious, especially the moment where you’d lost your grip and send the mattress sliding down the stairs back to the first floor. So instead of offering to help, she’d taken the opportunity to film the entire ordeal on her phone. You expected it would be gracing social media by the end of the evening.

“Well, I’d say that’s a job well done!” James exclaimed as he finally dropped the material onto the bed-frame.

You chuckled. “Yeah! I mean it only took an hour and a half.”

James smiled and checked the watch on his wrist.

“It’s getting late and I really should shower. But how about we order pizza afterwards. We could have dinner and get to know each other a little better.”

“I’d like that.”

“Great! Mary, darling, you’re invited too of course.”

The girl looked between the two of you, smiling playfully. Then she shot you a look.

“Thanks for the offer Jamie but I actually have some stuff I need to get done back at home. You guys enjoy though.”

She sent you a wink as she went and your eyes widened.

“I’m going to go wash off, but there’s a take out menu on the fridge,” James said. “Pick out whatever you want. My shout.”

—

A short while later you found yourself sat on the loveseat, a plate of pizza in your lap while Sirius and James sat side by side on the couch, bickering about the most recent episode of the Bachelor. You couldn’t help but laugh as you watched on.

They argued in a way that was firm but affectionate. You could tell that they were particularly close and had clearly known each other a long time.

“I can’t believe what I’m hearing!” Sirius exclaimed, waving his piece of pizza in the air for emphasis. “Jennifer was such a bitch! She totally deserved to be sent home.”

James gasped in mock offence. “No way! He should’ve kept her. They had a special connection.”

“Are you kidding?” Sirius blurted. “All she did was talk about herself. She barely even gave him the time of day.”

“I disagree! She was playing hard to get. Girls only do that when they like someone!” James stated matter-of-factly. You couldn’t contain your snort at the comment.

Sirius turned to you then, a smirk adorning his gorgeous face. “Well, lucky for us, we now have a girl here to settle agreements such as these. What do you think, sweetheart?”

You rolled your eyes affectionately at the nickname. “If I’m being honest, I have to agree with Sirius. Jennifer was kind of a bitch.”

Sirius cheered and James held a hand to his chest dramatically.

“Well you’re both wrong,” James joked. “We must have been watching two different shows.”

Sirius scoffed. “Nah, mate. You just have a terrible radar when it comes to girls. I mean, you’ve been chasing the same girl since you were fifteen and she’s still shown you no interest.”

Your eyebrows raised at that one. “Wait what? I feel like I’ve missed a chapter here.“

“She’s just a friend.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “Yeah, a friend you’ve been in love with since third form.”

James sighed.

“There’s this girl, Lily, in our friend group,” he began to explain, looking rather bashful. “And I’ve kind of been into her for a while but she always turns me down.”

You grimaced, clicking your tongue in sympathy. “That sucks. But hey, If she’s managed to keep your interest for all these years then she must really be special. I’d love to meet her sometime.”

James smiled gently. “I’m sure you will soon. She and Mary are quite close.”

Sirius face lit up suddenly at that. “Actually guys, that reminds me. The band is playing a gig on Saturday and everyone’s coming. You should join us y/n!”

“Hold on, since when are you in a band?” You queried. “I thought you were a bartender.”

Sirius chuckled. “I’m a bit of both! Bartender by night and lead singer of ‘Snakes and Lions’ by… well also by night I guess.”

“Basically, he plays in a band on the weekends,” James clarified.

“Yeah, and soon, we’ll be world famous!”

“Well I’d love to come and see you play,” you uttered.

“Great, it’s a date then.”

“What’s a date?”

You all looked up to see that Remus had finally emerged from his room. He looked tired and a little disheveled. Although you supposed that was the only way you’d had a chance to see him so far.

“Rem, mate! Come join us! We got Italian sausage just for you!”

Sirius gestured to one of the pizza boxes on the table and Remus nodded, grabbing a plate to fill.

“We were just telling y/n about Sirius’ gig this weekend.”

Remus looked up at you for a moment, his tired eyes unreadable. Then he straightened himself up and came to stand before you awkwardly.

“You’re um… you’re in my seat.”

Your eyes widened. “Oh! I’m sorry.”

You shot up from the spot, feeling rather mortified by the interaction.

“It’s okay, you can come sit here!” James stated, sliding further towards the armrest of the sofa and patting the spot in between himself and Sirius.

You sat down tentatively, but Sirius threw an arm around your shoulder which helped a bit in easing the nerves.

You found yourself glancing over at Remus. He seemed quiet as he munched on his pizza. You couldn’t help but feel a tinge of frustration towards him. He’d been nothing but rude to you since you arrived and you had no clue why.

“So tell us, y/n. What brought you to London?”

Your thoughts were cut short by Sirius’ question.

“Well, I just finished my degree not too long ago and I decided I needed a change, I suppose. London has a lot of good opportunities.”

“What did you study?” James asked, leaning his head in his hand as he looked down at you.

“Literature actually. I want to be a writer.”

Sirius brows shot up. “Really? That’s great. You should talk about that with Remus. He loves books.”

“Hmm?” The boy looked up then, as if having been lost in his own world, before brought back by the sound of his name.

“Y/n studied literature at university.”

He glanced over at you, only looking mildly interested. “Oh, that’s good.”

Then he turned his wrist glancing down at the watch that he wore. “It’s getting late. If you all don’t mind, I think I will finish dinner in my room. I have a lot of work to do.”

You frowned at that. Had you done something to upset him? Why was he so eager to get away from you?

“Alright mate. We’ll see you in the morning,” James muttered, oblivious to the issue.

Remus nodded at him before getting up slowly and sauntering back into his room.

James continued munching on his pizza happily but Sirius clearly noticed the way you tensed at the boy’s exit. He leaned in closely, speaking in a low tone so only you could hear.

“Sorry about him. He really isn’t like this usually. I’ll have a talk with him.”

You sighed. “No no, it’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”

You really didn’t want to be a point of contention between these boys.

“Are you sure? It’s no trouble-“

“No it’s fine,” you shook your head. “Actually, I’m feeling a little tired as well. I might turn in for the evening.”

James looked over at you with gentle eyes. “Okay. Sleep well.”

“Thanks,” you murmured, jumping up from the couch. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

Once you got to your room, you lay back heavily against the door, sighing. You considered the events of the day. There had been few hiccups but you decided then and there that you’d do whatever you could to move past them.

You got along well with James and Sirius seemed friendly. It was just Remus who you were yet to win over.

As you got ready for bed, your mind ran over the interactions that you’d had so far and wondered what might be the root of his frustrations.

Maybe things will be different tomorrow, you thought, as you settled in for the night.

#marauders #james potter x reader #remus lupin x reader #sirius black x reader #poly!marauders x reader #marauders au

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slowdrawl · 16 days ago

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| Everybody Loves Contractors | AU NO OUTBREAK| JoelMiller X f!reader |

She’s got a fixer-upper, trauma, and an attitude problem. Joel’s got calloused hands, a tool belt, and a soft spot for crazy. This is going to go great. "You’re nothing but a client. A mess of one at that. Some unhinged girl who moved to Texas on a whim, running away from god-knows-what, sending him cringeworthy late-night texts. And he’s just the man you hired to rip the walls open. He might even be married. You never checked for a ring." |a/n| I love them already, I hope you do too. home depot next!

| Warnings | Explicit language, sexual tension, mutual pining, age gap, a little angst, mentions of DV/Stalking mentions of PTSD, mentions of death, Joel being Joel, etc. Please read responsibly.

You wake up to a bird screaming outside your window and a throbbing in your head. You barely even drank. Maybe had three beers max, but you've spent the last two weeks struggling to acclimate to the hellscape that is Texas.

The humidity in Austin is no joke, and you’ve been seriously underestimating how much sweat one person is capable of producing.

Back home in Washington, summers were a lot drier. You’re not used to the constant layer of sweat that covers your body, it’s like you could drink a gallon of water in an hour and not even pee.

You groan and reach your arm over to the bedside table, searching blindly for your water bottle, refusing to open your eyes yet.

But then the regret hits you, jolting into your brain like hot electricity. Spiky, immediate.

You snap your eyes open, then squeeze them shut again, like if you cringe hard enough, you could will those text messages you sent last night out of existence. You drink half the bottle of water, it’s lukewarm and has some flavour you’re still not quite used to. Water in the south fuckin’ sucks apparently, you never thought you would be one of those people. You grab your phone to add ‘Brita filter’ to your shopping list, but stop before you get there.

One unread text message from him..

(7:42 AM)

Joel Miller: mornin’ psycho.

Your face heats up instantly. He texted you first… technically. He called you psycho. You should really be insulted, but your dopamine-deprived brain decided to interpret it as affection instead.

(8:07 AM)

You: goodmorning contractor. how kind of you to acknowledge my existence after I sent you drunk and kinda mean texts last night.

You wait for a response, it’s agonizing.

The phone buzzes on your chest.

(8:12 AM)

Joel Miller: figured ignoring you would be rude. manners and all. Huh. Okay. A little colder than you expected. You reread it, trying to decide if he’s annoyed or just…being himself.

(8:07 AM)

You: I wouldn’t have blamed you if you had ghosted me.

(8:08 AM)

Joel Miller: I wouldn’t do that Your heart rate picks up. (8:08 AM)

Joel Miller: can’t anyways, you still gotta sign the contract Ouch. Of course, this is business. Duh.

(8:09 AM)

You: ah! yes! Capitalism!! the true foundation of our new friendship. Almost forgot.

You: can we talk about that? wanna know how soon I’m going to be bankrupt, might need to go get a pedicure and snap a few photos of my toes for craigslist.

(8:11 AM)

Joel Miller: you good for a phone call around 10?

You hesitate.

(8:11 AM)

You: yeah, thats perfect. Thanks

No emoji. No more sarcasm. Strictly business. You put the phone down gently and stare up at the ceiling tiles for a while. He didn’t flirt. Didn’t call you darlin’ or throw in a wink like he did last night. He was polite. Blunt. All contract, no fun. And why wouldn’t he be? He doesn’t even know you.You’re nothing but a client. A mess of one at that. Some unhinged girl who moved to Texas on a whim, running away from god-knows-what, sending him cringeworthy late-night texts. And he’s just the man you hired to rip the walls open. He might even be married. You never checked for a ring. Oh my god, you never even checked for a ring. You fucking’ idiot. You’re fantasizing about being a homewrecker.You sit for a while, picking at hangnails, pulling half the stitching out of the hem of your t-shirt, letting your mind chew on it all for a while. You really should stop reading so deeply into things. Just because someone is kind…in a brooding way, or doesn’t ignore you, doesn’t mean they want anything from you. Not really. Not always. At 10:03, your phone buzzes. You’re lying down, flat on your back on the couch in the faux-living room of the Airbnb. You stare at the ceiling fan like you’re about to be sentenced by the royal court. You answer the phone on the third ring. “Hey,” You say, normal. “You sound alive,” Joel says, voice low and rough. “That’s debatable. But yeah. Morning.” You mumble, trying to sound like you don’t care he called. “I’m prepared to hear the details of my financial ruin.”

He chuckles, low and brief, like maybe—just maybe that was funny. “You asked for it, kid.”

You sit up right and swing your legs over the side of the couch. “Alright, alright, true. Tell me about it then.”

“Sent the paperwork over to the office,” he says. “Should have it back by Monday, early. I’ll walk you through it if you’ve got questions.” What if he talked me through it instead? Ha Ha…Ha “Okay. Cool. Thanks.” “You’ll need a 20% deposit before we start. End of next week alright?” You choke. He notices.

“Still with me?”

“Yup… yeah. Just thinking about you draining my savings account…kinda hot.” You let out an almost believable laugh. “Okay, sign papers, 20% by the end of next week. I can do that.”

Joel's voice softens a bit. “You sure?”

“This is what I want,” you say quickly. “I’ll figure it out.” He doesn’t respond right away, just stays quiet. You can hear some background movement—maybe he’s walking. Or he’s searching for an excuse to hang up on you.

“I’m thinking we can do Wednesday through Friday, ten to six, give or take, depending on deliveries. Unless that won’t work for you?” “No, that's fine.” You’re dissociating, “Alright. Mondays and Tuesdays, I’ve got other jobs. Keeps weekends open for both of us.”

“Oh my god, it’s like you’re giving me custody hours, I’m like the mid-week mom.”

“If you want weekends too, you gotta make me dinner,” he responds.

Your face heats up, you go silent again.

You clear your throat, “So. Ten to six, Wednesday to Friday, weekends maybe, but only if there’s lasagna.”

“I’ll see you on Monday, then,” he says, voice even. “We’ll go from there.”

“Okay. Thanks, Joel. Appreciate it.”

Another second of silence, it feels full, your brain feels like mud.

“Alright then,” he says. “Try to learn how to behave before Monday.”

You laugh, “I’m making no promises.” You’re grinning ear to ear despite yourself. The line clicks dead a second later. And you’re left sitting there, phone in hand, wondering what you’re doing, and why the fuck you liked that so much. When you toss the phone down, the reality of the situation really settles into your bones. You’re really fucking doing this. Hell, you’re already most of the way through it. You left. You packed your whole life into your Civic and drove two thousand miles, from Bellevue to Austin. Alone. You left him there. Said absolutely nothing about it, couldn’t. Not legally, at least. Instructed everyone who knew the two of you to never tell him where you went. You chose peace. You chose yourself. And somehow, that still feels radical? Like it was an act of defiance instead of survival. You didn’t even cry until Oregon. Didn’t let yourself fully believe you were even actually free until you passed the Idaho border and realized nobody was following behind you. You’d been with him since high school. That kind of history doesn’t go away easy. He hurt you slowly, taking parts of you away month by month, year by year, until you were a shell of who you once were. He broke things inside of you that still rattle around sometimes when you’re not paying enough attention. His hands left burn marks that you’re worried will never truly fade. You sit there for a long moment, letting the silence press in on you. The Airbnb is too clean, sterile, too…impersonal. Like it's holding space for a version of you that hasn’t quite arrived yet. Eventually, you get up. You cross the room to the only thing that really matters to you right now. The box. It’s battered. Duct-taped around the edges. “KEEP SAFE” scrawled across every side of it in big, Sharpie letters like that would somehow protect it from fire, flooding, or the unrelenting hands of grief. It’s slightly smudged from rain, maybe tears, who knows. It’s the only box that’s never made it into a U-HAUL. You kept it tucked in the passenger seat on your way to Texas. Buckled in, riding shotgun the entire drive from Washington. You brought it in to sleep next to you in every motel. Just in case. Just in case he found you. Just in case the house burned down. Just in case the last pieces of you disappeared, slipping through your hands like sand before you could properly hold them again. You carry it over to the bed and pull the top open, hands maybe a little too careful. In it, his watch that hasn't worked since you were 12, his favorite ball cap that somehow still smells like him after all these years if you press it to your nose. And a photo. You and your dad from a birthday party a lifetime ago, you’re wearing a polka-dotted paper hat, blowing out 9 candles. He’s staring at little you like you’re the only thing that existed in his world. Even though it's a still photo, you can almost see his eyes twinkling.

He’s wearing a hat with The Lion King logo embroidered in it, black with an orange bill, and one of his classic denim button-downs. You smile down at the photo, then your lips start to tremble when you think too hard about whose smile you're really wearing. He probably would have hated the heat here, he certainly would have had something to say about the humidity. Woulda cursed the mosquitoes, the grasshoppers, the very concept of Texas apart from the barbeque. But, he would have still come to visit… because he would’ve understood.

He always understood. The only reason you could afford the move, the house, was because of him. Two months after you lost everything else, his life insurance check showed up. You never even wanted to cash it. Because it felt like if you did it would solidify it, he would really be gone. But eventually you did. Then you bought the most broken thing you could afford, hoping maybe it would be strong enough to hold the weight of starting over like this. “I’m gonna fix it,” you whisper to the box, voice small. “I swear, I will.” You fold the flaps of the box in on themselves and carry it out the door of the Airbnb with you, like maybe bringing it to the house is step one in bringing yourself back, as well. The air is already warm, the sun is still climbing into place in the sky, and cicadas are going feral in the trees. The street hums with quiet suburbia, children playing, and truck tires. You hold the box to your chest as you climb into the front seat and drive. You keep one arm wrapped around it firmly as you turn the corner to your home. You don’t play music, you just let the silence wash over you this time. When you pull into the driveway and open the door, you don’t put it down right away. You just sit on the floor with it, sunlight pouring in through the broken blinds in the kitchen window, your knees pulled up to your chest. You breathe deep, letting it ground you, hoping that somehow your dad’s things will pour some strength into you, because god, you need it right now. You look around, you haven’t been able to stop thinking about the way your dad might have reacted to the house. He’d probably shake his head. Probably mutter something stupid like, “Jesus, kiddo, didn’t know the Blair Witch house was in Austin.” He’d probably tell you that he didn’t raise you to be so damn impulsive. But secretly, he’d be proud. Because he’d know, he’d know that you had to go, had to start over. He wouldn’t have wanted you to dull yourself down. He’d hate knowing that you had become someone who kept shrinking herself to make someone else comfortable. And this house, for all its rot, imperfections, and ghosts, it’s yours. Your mess, your future. You tuck the box safely in the hall closet and head back to the car to grab more of your stuff.

You spend the remainder of the afternoon cleaning the second bedroom, the only one that has windows that don’t stick in the tracks when you try to open and close them. It feels the least haunted, too. You vacuum and take your spot cleaner to a particularly ominous stain in the middle of the floor. It’s the color of rust, hopefully not blood. You wash the windows, wipe about an inch of dust off the ceiling fan blades, and fill a Swiffer duster with so many cobwebs it looks like cotton candy. Gross. By sunset, it finally looks like one of the after shots from an episode of Hoarders. Not perfect, but livable. You put a dehumidifier in the corner of the room and pulled out the air mattress you bought one year. Your ex decided that camping at The Gorge for a music festival would be a good idea. It wasn’t… You got heat stroke and threw up during Kid Cudi’s set. You blow it up and place it in the center of the room. When you flop yourself down on it, you hear a hiss, and you let out the world's heaviest sigh. Of course. ////

Joel was in the kitchen, reheating something from a takeout box that barely counted as dinner. He stood over the microwave, arms crossed, waiting for it to beep.

Sarah was perched on the arm of the couch behind him, legs folded, humming some song he didn’t recognize. Probably something from a playlist her roommate sent her. She didn’t look up until he passed by with his food and collapsed into the recliner with a quiet grunt.

His phone buzzed in his pocket.

(7:42 PM)

Opengate Demo Girl: ten bucks says you’re gonna hate my ass by friday.

Joel didn’t answer right away.

He stared at the message, chewing slowly, unsure what to make of it—or her. She was already too much, even through a screen. But she was funny. Quick. There was something behind the sarcasm that kept tugging at him, even though he knew he shouldn’t let it.

He exhaled through his nose and replied.

(7:43 PM)

Joe Miller: by friday huh. do i get extra cash if I already do?

Her reply came fast, but it wasn’t a text.

It was a selfie.

She had one hand pressed to her chest like she’d just been mortally wounded, mouth open in mock betrayal. Hair messy. Eyes wide, dramatic, shining.

Joel huffed a quiet laugh before he could stop himself. Louder than he meant to.

Sarah’s head whipped around from the couch. “Who are you texting that has you laughing before noon?” she asked, eyebrow arched.

He didn’t look up. “Nobody,” he said, reaching for his fork again. “Just a dumb meme.”

“Mmm.” Sarah didn’t sound convinced. “You only figured out what a meme was last year. Don’t start acting like you’re fluent.”

Joel grunted, annoyed. His phone buzzed again.

He ignored it.

Sarah, of course, refused.

“What kinda meme makes you blush like that?”

“I’m not—” he started, cutting himself off before the sentence could hang him. He set his phone down, face-first on the coffee table. Kept eating like it would somehow defuse the conversation.

She was still watching him.

He picked it back up eventually. Couldn’t help it.

(7:47 PM)

Opengate Demo Girl: glad you’re pretending to be my best friend after a whole 24 hours. ur commitment to the bit is admirable. i’m moved.

He smirked. Barely. Typed out a response without thinking.

(7:48 PM) Joel Miller: charity work’s good karma. gotta get into heaven somehow.

Joel didn’t hear Sarah get off the couch until she was behind him, reading over his shoulder.

“Oh, so you’re going to heaven now?” she snorted.

He locked the screen and looked up at her, deadpan. “Gotta aim high.”

Sarah didn’t laugh. She crossed her arms instead, squinting at him like a bloodhound.

“Who’s Opengate Girl?”

He sighed. “It’s the address. New client.”

She made a face. “You saved her under the street name? Ew. That’s so sterile. You couldn’t even put her actual name?”

Joel shook his head. “Helps me keep track. You know how many houses I’ve walked through this month?”

Sarah was still watching him like he’d just confessed to a federal crime. “Okay but why are you smiling at your phone like that? Are you flirting with a client?”

“I’m not flirting,” he muttered.

“Right. Sure. And I’m not currently watching you act like a teenager.”

“Jesus, kid.”

“You’re blushing, dude.”

“Shut it,.”

“You are.”

He pointed at her with his fork. “Go do your homework.”

She rolled her eyes and backed away, still grinning. “Flirt responsibly, old man.”

Joel muttered something under his breath and went back to his food, trying to pretend none of that happened.

He didn’t open his phone again for a while.

Instead, he asked about her classes. TikTok. What she was watching. Tried to be normal.

Tried not to picture the shape of that girl’s mouth in the photo.

And mostly… he failed. ////

Meanwhile, your hands are full. You kick the front door of the Airbnb closed and make it most of the way to the kitchen before one of the paper grocery bags explodes. You almost break an ankle tripping over a can of soup and curse out the ghost of Campbell’s under your breath.

You throw the perishables into the fridge and glance at the clock. 7 PM.

Check-out for the rental is at 11 AM tomorrow. Thankfully, you’re mostly packed. You never really unpacked anyway—you’ve been living out of a suitcase since you left home three weeks ago. At least this place had a washing machine. You’re already critically low on clean underwear, and hand-washing wasn’t on your bingo card.

When you’re finished stacking your remaining belongings next to the door, you head back into the kitchen. It would be criminal to waste your last night with a fully functional kitchen on Top Ramen or mac and cheese straight out of the pot, so you don’t.

You stare into the fridge for inspiration. Reach into the crisper drawer and pull out whatever isn’t fully wilted or growing a second skin.

Stir-fry it is.

Something simple. Something comforting. You throw on a playlist and grab a cutting board from the cupboard, chopping carrots and peppers while singing No Scrubs at full volume, utterly disregarding the fact that this is a duplex. You cook the chicken that was dated for yesterday because it still smells…fine. You’re pretty sure you’re immune to food poisoning, courtesy of growing up on your dad’s questionable "experiments" in the kitchen. Stomach of steel. It's practically a superpower.

You miraculously don’t burn the rice. You eat dinner on the couch, scrolling through your phone, feeling— Not settled. But maybe… okay.

When you finish eating, you wipe down the counters. You let yourself stare out the kitchen window for a second, It's dark now. The only thing illuminating the yard is the moon; it's peaceful. You contemplate going to bed early, calling it a win, you’re exhausted anyway. But nope. You’re a dumbass with a maybe-kinda crush and too much flour. Plus, you already bought a bag of chocolate chips at Kroeger. Who gives a shit if it’s 77 degrees outside, you’re baking cookies. You throw together a batch, your grandma's recipe that you know by heart. You’re doing this half out of spite, half out of some unspoken womanly urge to nurture the world. But mostly you’re doing it for yourself, and maybe a grown man whose astrology sign you don't even know yet. I bet he's a Scorpio… Scorpios are always brooding. You hum to yourself as you fold in the chocolate, and by the time you’re putting them in the oven, you’re belting Bohemian Rhapsody using the spatula as an impromptu microphone. You burned the first batch, you were…distracted. Distracted googling ‘Can my contractor sue me for emotional damages?’, it was a joke at first, but there are a surprising number of Reddit threads that cover this topic. The second batch of cookies is perfectly golden. You let them sit by the open kitchen window to cool like you’re some housewife in a fairytale that’s bound to end with a wild animal eating your firstborn. You sit cross-legged on the couch, Sharpie and notebook in hand. HOME DEPOT: Hammer (not pink) Lightbulbs LED Paint Extension cord (the ugly orange kind) Coffee maker (duh) Snacks Duct tape (you can never have enough) The will to live You stare at the list for a hot minute, chewing the end of the Sharpie like a feral animal. Maybe you should buy a taser. Or a whole new personality. Or coveralls. Oh my god, what if he wears coveralls… I’m going to be sick. You flop backward onto the couch with a full-body groan, one arm slung across your face, the other clutching your phone. You might not survive this summer. You’re going to sweat to death, trip over all of your boxes, maybe die alone in a haunted house with no aircon and a hot contractor who absolutely doesn’t think about you at all and might be married. You are unwell. You grab the notebook once more, scribbling ‘ant traps, more duct tape’. You giggle to yourself as you write ‘vibrator????’ in bubbly script. Before you head to bed, you check the locks, twice. Not because you’re worried. Just… muscle memory. He’s not here. But your body doesn’t believe that yet. ps. if you like this fic please tell me because your comments are what keeps me writing

#joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #tlou fanfiction #tlou smut #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller angst #joel miller x you #everybodylovescontractors

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whenwegotolder · 2 years ago

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regulus: mother and father completely ruined my life, i can’t stand them

sirius: and yet you’re wearing the gucci pajamas mother bought you and you’re currently online shopping using fathers credit card

regulus: they gave me a horrible childhood, they can make up for it by buying me things *turns to james* would you like a giraffe? there’s currently one for sale on craigslist for $70,000 and i think that’s just enough to make mother go crazy

james: yes yes yes

sirius:

sirius: wait buy me one too

remus: absolutely not, you are not bringing a giraffe to the dorm

regulus: come on remus, let them have their giraffes. i’ll buy you a cat

remus: this is not the regulus i’m used to, usually you always agree with me

regulus: today i’m trying to erase my childhood trauma by buying things

remus:

remus: yeah get me the cat

i have made this 😭😭😭

#marauders #the marauders #harry potter #sirius black #james potter #regulus black #james x regulus #regulus x james #jegulus #remus lupin #wolfstar #remus x sirius #sirius x remus

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concretejunglefm · 3 months ago

Text

𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐂 𝐌𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒… 01

Summary: When you were convinced to visit a male strip club, you didn’t anticipate that the guy you locked eyes with on stage and who subsequently pulled you up for a routine, would turn out to be the same guy whose roommate advert you’d be responding to less than 24 hours later.

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x reader.

CW: nothing really other than some mentions of suggestive dance moves at a strip club.

WC: 3.2k.

AN: Alright, so I’m not sure how many parts this will have. All I know is that this is for fun I hope you enjoy Noah being a lovable himbo.

Dividers: silent-stories.

Fic Masterlist

ROOMMATE WANTED

Are you struggling with parental issues, a questionable job, broken hopes and dreams, or perhaps hiding your pain behind a morbid sense of humor? If so, you might just be the perfect roommate for me!

Conditions:

No crazy people, but you must be willing to help deter a few crazy exes.

My dog must like you.

Food policy: what’s mine is mine, and what’s yours is mine.

Perks:

You’ll have a private bedroom and bathroom.

There's an outdoor pool and an inflatable pool for when the main pool is being cleaned.

An outdoor bar that is fully stocked.

A grumpy neighbor next door who’s always ready to offer unsolicited advice and openly judge your life choices.

When you answered the Craigslist ad for a roommate, you must have been on the verge of insanity because no rational person would have responded to that ad, would they?

It doesn’t alleviate your concerns at all when you receive a response from the poster, not even twenty minutes later. First, they thank you for your interest, and then they send you a time and date for a potential meetup and viewing.

Well, at least if they’re a serial killer, they work swiftly, ensuring you don’t have to struggle to find a new place before your eviction notice expires.

With a huff, you slump back into your desk chair and your eyes fall upon the pile of papers, the eviction notice sitting atop them all.

Your original landlord had been a kind and understanding old man, though he may have been a bit too lenient with the rent at times. However, everything changed when he passed everything on to his son. Suddenly, you were facing stricter rent deadlines, increased prices, and cuts to the services included. You were barely able to keep up with the demands until you were presented with the eviction notice.

Craigslist became your last resort, and a desperate one at that. You either had the good fortune to catch Moby Dick in the initial hours of browsing the ad’s, or you were about to be pulled in and devoured by sharks.

Reaching for the notice, you push it aside to reveal a flyer for a live male strip show. Four shirtless guys with various tattoos across their hands, arms, chest, and even necks pose in the picture. Their latest show is tonight, and you quickly snap a picture of the flyer before sending it to the group chat.

You: I need a night out. Anyone else? Troy: Hot, sweaty, tattooed covered men grinding on me? Count me in! Brooke: I’ll bring the baby oil. Troy: Why do you need baby oil? Brooke: In case they run out, duh. You: I’m already having regrets.

By 9pm, you find yourself entering a club that’s already half full. You hadn’t anticipated the ambiance; you always assumed such places to be seedy and tucked behind alleyways. However, this one was high-end and well-decorated, though dimly lit to enhance the atmosphere.

Partially distracted by the music and the bustling crowd, you miss your name being called. However, from the corner of your eye, you catch Troy ushering you to join him over at the bar.

“What on earth are you drinking?” you ask, watching him sip on a colorful fruit cocktail.

“A Big Dipper,” he flashes a cheeky grin and gestures his head down towards the bartender, a man with long hair and wearing a ball cap, sporting a Lord of the Rings shirt. “I wouldn’t mind trying his, if you know what I mean.”

Troy winks, and you laugh, shaking your head as you gaze back at the crowd of people settling into their seats at the various tables scattered throughout the club which surround the main stage area in the center. “Where’s Brooke?”

“She went to ‘freshen up’, which I believe is a euphemism for removing her panties in anticipation of throwing them at her next victim.”

“Come on, be nice,” you nudge, a slight laugh escaping your lips. Even though it might sound a bit harsh, it was an accurate observation. Despite being your closest friends, Troy and Brooke had always shared a unique love-hate dynamic.

After ordering a drink for yourself, Brooke runs across the room, nearly squealing as she grabs both your arms. “Hurry! I’ve found the best seat in the house tonight!”

She bounces excitedly on her way to the table, and your eyes widen in realization as you notice how close to the stage you all are.

“Oh no, no,” you exclaim, shaking your head in disbelief.

“Oh, yes! You’re going to sit here and watch hot men undress and dance for your pleasure, and you’re going to enjoy it.” Brooke places her hands on your shoulders, gently pushing you down onto the seat.

You groan in response, rolling your eyes slightly with a huff. “Alright, but if we’re chosen, I’m not going up there.”

You’ve heard the stories from their previous performances about how they select audience members to receive lap dances, sometimes even lifting them onto their waist and carrying them through a full routine. The idea makes your face flush, not only because of the hot stranger gyrating on you, but also because of the thought of being on stage in front of an audience. That’s the part that worries you the most. It’s ironic for someone who dedicates their life to being watched by an unseen audience on Twitch, making it their career.

As the house lights dim and the stage lights brighten, Brooke starts stomping her feet excitedly beside you, grabbing and shaking your arm as the introductory music begins.

The first performer to step out is a man dressed entirely in black, including a long black jacket and sunglasses, appearing as though he’s stepped straight out of The Matrix movies. As heavy industrial techno music plays in the background, he begins to strip off layer by layer, revealing a pair of tight black pants and a strappy black tank top. A quick glance down at his pants confirms the reason for his choice of the stage name, ‘Thicky’.

It’s such an obvious name choice that it leads to Troy choking on his straw, causing both you and Brooke to burst into laughter.

The second performer, the drummer, descends from the ceiling, playing his drums with an animalistic energy that lives up to his stage name ‘Animal’. He’s already shirtless and headbanging to the rhythm, his bare, tattooed chest glistening with sweat, which is noticeable even from your seat in the audience.

Next, ‘Mr. International’ steps out, another who’s clad entirely in black, similar to his stage partner, except for his hair is longer and his black pants are leather. He exudes a dominant aura as he struts around the stage, captivating the women in the crowd with his presence. Many of them increase their screams and even throw extra cash towards him as he approaches the edge of the stage.

When the final introduction for ‘Viper’ commences, you must resist the urge to burst into laughter as a towering, dark-haired man adorned in tattoos saunters onto the stage, exuding an aura reminiscent of an iconic character from Top Gun. However, the moment he begins shedding the layers of his ‘uniform,’ your jaw drops in awe, and your eyes widen with genuine admiration as he reveals his body, draped in a sleek black skin-tight tank, tattoos adorning almost every inch of his visible skin.

“I think we’ve discovered her kryptonite,” Troy remarks across the table to Brooke, but you barely notice it, completely captivated by the man and his commanding stage presence in front of you.

You can’t take your eyes off him during the show. He stands tall and handsome, exuding an aura of charisma that draws you in, even as the other men on stage begin their dance routine. For a fleeting moment, you swear his gaze locks onto yours as he scans the audience, and your heart races with excitement at the thought. Suddenly, an overwhelming desire surges through you to be chosen when the time comes for an audience member to join them on stage.

To your surprise, his eyes do meet yours when that moment arrives, and it feels almost like a scene from a movie as he approaches, raising a hand and beckoning you with his finger.

Each performer had already conducted their own routine with an audience member. ‘Animal’ had one sitting on his lap while he performed a drum solo and was suspended in the air once again. ‘Thicky’ performed a whole chair routine, giving them a lap dance. Lastly, ‘Mr International’ rode the signature Pony suspended from the ceiling with an audience member, grinding against them from behind.

Now, it’s the final routine with ‘Viper’. As you stand to take his hand, he guides you up to the stage, instantly pulling you against him.

Lifting you from the floor, he holds you up, then brings you to sit on his waist. From this close-up, you notice the faint shade of eyeliner around his eyes and how his body shimmers with body glitter, including subtle highlights on his face and along his cheekbones. Some of the glitter is already transferring onto you.

Before you can become too mesmerized by the sight of him, he starts dancing along to the music, bouncing you slightly on his waist. It takes all your willpower not to burst into a fit of giggles, especially as his intense gaze locks onto yours.

When he lowers you to the floor, he continues to grind, wrapping your legs around his waist before rolling you both over. He keeps you seated on his waist, arching his back and rolling his hips upward in a smooth, rhythmic motion that vibrates between your thighs.

Suddenly, the urge to giggle is replaced by overwhelming embarrassment at how much you’re enjoying this, completely unaware of the room full of eyes watching you both, most of which are likely filled with envy as you both mimic riding him like he is your own personal pony, perfectly matching up to the lyrics of the song playing.

By the time you regain your composure and the song reaches its end, you’re flustered as you return to your seat, fanning yourself with your hand as you walk back on slightly unsteady feet, unable to suppress the grin that stretches across your face.

“It seems like you enjoyed it more than you anticipated.” Troy leans in closer to you, speaking in a sing-song voice that elicits a roll of your eyes.

“Oh, hush,” you playfully swat at him.

As the guys gather to perform their final routine of the night and take their bows, you swear you catch his eye once more, with ‘Viper’ shooting a cheeky wink down at you, sending a rush of heat through you.

You can sense, somehow, that this won’t be your final encounter with him.

Craigslist guy: It’s just off Limes Drive. The house you’re looking for is the one on the corner.

You’ve read the message over and over again, for about the fifth time now, and you’re staring directly at something that’s definitely not a house on the corner of Limes Drive. In fact, it’s just an open piece of land. Suddenly, you start to wonder if you’re being Punk’d or if this person is actually a serial killer.

Pocketful of Sunshine begins to play as your phone rings. The caller ID displays Craigslist dude and panic starts to set in. Is he calling to reveal his sinister plan to kidnap and kill you?

It then hits you that watching those true crime shows before bed might not be such a good idea after all.

Clearing your throat, you answer, holding your phone up before speaking tentatively. “Hello?”

“Hey! Have you seen the house yet?”

“What exactly am I supposed to be seeing?”

“The house!”

Is this guy serious? “There’s no house here.” You look back at the patch of land and huff. “Listen, if you’re calling to waste my time—” He cuts you off abruptly.

“Woah, woah. I’m not wasting anyone’s time. I’m standing outside right now.”

You search around because either he’s lying or you’re blind. There’s no one in front of you, and just as you turn around completely, you catch a guy waving from his driveway. “Is that you? The tall guy who’s waving?”

“Yes! See, I told you it was here.”

“You mentioned the corner of Limes Drive!” You growl through bared teeth.

“No, I said it was just off Limes. But you’re here now, so come over and take a look around!”

He sounds so unbothered by the fact that he was wrong, amused even, and somehow that irritates you slightly.

Pocketing your phone, you quickly glancing both ways before crossing the street, and running up to the drive, stopping before the guy waiting for you. Recognition washes over you as you come face-to-face with the same guy you were not only watching strip last night, but had even performed on stage with him.

He looks different when he’s not under those stage lights, without the faint eye makeup or covered in glitter. The same body glitter you still have stuck to you this morning, even after showering.

“You’re Viper, aren’t you?” Your gaze narrows, and you notice his lips curling into a grin.

“You’ve heard of me? Wait…” His gaze locks onto yours, and you feel a slight warmth spread through your body as recognition dawns on him. “You’re the girl from last night, aren’t you?”

Your hand instinctively reaches up and rubs against the side of your neck at his recollection of you. “That’s me. Or, you know...” You offer him your name, extending your hand for a proper introduction.

“Well, you can call me Noah then.” Somehow, you hadn’t quite anticipated what his real name would be, but it being ‘Noah’ didn’t even cross your mind.

As he guides you up the driveway and into the house, he starts rambling about the house’s features, almost repeating most of the information mentioned in the Craigslist ad.

“So, what do you do for a living?” Noah asks, momentarily glancing down at you.

You nearly miss his question, too preoccupied with admiring the intricate tattoos adorning his arms and neck.

“Hmm? Oh! I’m a Twitch streamer,” you respond, dismissing it and following him through the house as you take in the rooms.

“Wait, seriously? Do you have a complete setup and everything?” You catch the way his eyes gleam and start to quietly laugh. It’s genuinely endearing, both his interest and the enthusiasm in his tone.

“Yeah, it’s not perfect, but I’m gradually making progress.”

“So, you have the dream job, right? You play games for a living.”

You take a moment to ponder the idea because while it’s your dream job, it comes with its challenges. However, seeing his excited expression makes it difficult to shatter his heart with the harsh reality of being a Twitch streamer, especially in the current climate.

“I suppose so, yeah.”

“Perhaps I could join a stream sometime. If you need a skilled dancer to keep the audience entertained, I’ll be your man.” He raises his hands and points his thumbs at himself, the gesture eliciting a laugh from you.

For a fleeting moment, your mind wanders to alternative ways he could be useful on stream. Many streamers collaborate with others, but you can’t help but find yourself drifting into more explicit thoughts.

Your eyes fixate on his mouth, watching the way it moves as he speaks, and the brief licks of his lips between words. The sensation it ignites in you is even more intense than the night before when you were on stage with him, but you swiftly shake your head, dismissing the thought.

If you intend to accept his roommate offer and move in with him, you need to stop having any and all inappropriate thoughts about him.

“And the pool is just out there,” you finally regain your focus as he guides you through the kitchen, gesturing towards the back door. Your eyes then fall upon the boarded-up doggy door.

“Why did you board up your doggy door?”

“To stop my ex from coming back.”

Great, so he's a misogynist, you think, completely taken back by such a comment.

“I wasn’t kidding about the crazy ex mentioned in the roommate ad. My previous one somehow managed to squeeze through the doggy door.”

“Oh…,” realization dawns on you. As you glance over at the doggy door once more, you can’t help but wonder what man could make you act so crazy that you’d crawl through a doggy door to get back with him.

“We managed to last another two months after that, so it wasn’t a terrible idea on her part. I thought boarding it up after our last breakup would prevent her from literally crawling back into my life and my home... again.”

For a moment, you find yourself staring at him, completely unsure of what to say. Were you sorry about the breakup or his ex’s sudden reappearance in his life? Either way, it felt like an insensitive thing to say.

“Let me show you where your room will be!” he says, leading you upstairs and pointing out his other roommates' rooms: Jolly, the guy nicknamed ‘Mr. International,’ and Davis, another friend who works at the club.

“The dog is actually Davis’,” he informs you.

“Oh, so you lied on your Ad. That’s very naughty,” you tease, but he just laughs and gives you a soft ‘yeah,’ as if he were a child being scolded for something minor. He’s innocent either way.

Reaching the room and the en-suite that will be yours, you step inside and begin exploring. You size up the space and assess the room’s condition.

Turning back, you see Noah standing in the doorway. “My room is just next door,” he says. “I promise you’ll have your privacy. There’s even a lock on your door if you need it, see?” He gestures to the door handle.

You feel a sense of ease knowing you’ll have your own space and a potential safety measure already installed.

“I really like it,” you whisper under your breath, nodding as you take in the room once more. Compared to your current apartment, it’s more spacious, and the rent is almost half the price.

“It’s yours if you want it!”

“Uh…” Did you want it? It was the perfect size, and there would even be space to set up your streaming equipment. You’d have your own bathroom, a pool, and a dog.

There are perks, but you can’t help but feel a slight twinge of embarrassment when you look back at Noah and remember the night before, when he had you bouncing on his waist, simulating outrageous sexual positions in the form of dance moves.

“Sure. That would be great.” You move towards him, stopping at the doorway, where you meet him still standing there. It amuses you how close to the door frame his head reaches and makes you realize that you’d misjudged his height when he was on stage.

“I promise I don’t usually make a habit of moving in with a guy the day after he grinds on me,” you add, trying to keep the mood light and softly laughing.

“Okay,” he says.

Maybe he doesn’t catch your joke, or maybe he just thinks it’s an odd thing to say. Either way, Noah’s reply makes you wish you hadn’t said anything at all, and for the floor to open up and swallow you whole.

You can only hope you won’t regret agreeing to move in with him.

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