#i want to do more but yeah i hesitate too much

[leah-lover]

Comfort. Mapi x Ingrid x reader.

Smut 18+

You loved your job. Being a surgeon brought you glory, validation, the opportunity to help others, and make your environment proud of you. However, it introduced a great amount of fatigue, grief, and mental overstimulation.

Today was especially hard, you had lost 2 patients in the span of 3 hours. Once your shift was done, you hurried home to find any sort of comfort.

When you got home, you showered and curled up in bed immediately. Your girlfriend wasn't home yet, they still had a few hours of training. You didn't realize you had fallen asleep, you woke up gently after you felt a dip in the bed. You felt mapi’s soft touches on your hair before you opened your eyes to look into hers.

As soon as you saw her you moved closer, persuading her to open her arms for you and hold you. You situated yourself on her chest, and she positioned herself on the head board.

“ Rough day amor?” She whispered softly.

“ 2 died.” You respond.

“ Nena, it's not your fault, okay. You did your best.” She reassured you by giving small kisses to your temple.

“ Need Ingrid too please.” You ask .

“ She will come up any second now.” She responds.

She didn't lie, it only took Ingrid a couple minutes to come to your bedroom. When she enters the room you feel mapi mouth something to her. She then comes to the other side of the bed and lays next to you.

“ I am so proud of you for pushing through the baby.” She says before she too kisses your temple.

You needed more than they were giving you, but you were too shy to ask for it. Ingrid noticed you open your mouth and close it a couple of times.

“ Baby what is it?’ she asks while looking you in the eyes.

“ Nothing. It's nothing.” You say trying to shut her down.

“ You know I don't like lying.” She claps back with a stern look.

“ I don't want to be too much. I already bought this gloomy mood on you and I didn't ask you how you were doing it.” You say hesitantly.

“ Baby I won't repeat it again, what did you want to say?” She asks again without losing her serious expression.

“ I need more of you. I want more from you.” You say looking in her eyes.

“ Maria, I think our love doesn't know how much we love her.” Said Ingrid to Maria.

“ Yeah the hesitation to ask us for attention isn't something that should happen again I don't think.” Answered Maria from behind you.

“ I think she deserved to be taught a lesson about how much we love her, no?”

You see the world flying between them without any of them opening their mouths.

You then feel mapi slide from behind you leaving only the pillows to support your body. You reposition yourself only for Ingrid to hover on top of you.

“ Hi.” She whispers before giving you small sweet kisses. She knew that when you were in this state it was easy to overwhelm you. She wanted to move as slow as possible at first.

She gradually moved faster, more dominant, and hungrier for you. You moved at her pace tugging her body more on top of yours needing something to grind on as your core becomes more greedy.

Ingrid then moves to your neck leaving bruises and pink spots all over it. She helps you strip off your shirt and bra before moving to care for your breasts, giving each one as much care as you wanted. She doesn't leave any part of your body unmarked, or kissed, or touched. Your mouth hadn't been closed since she started, allowing for the smallest moans and whimpers to escape your lips.

Ingrid noticed your back starting to arch so she asked you her usual question.

“ What do you want, baby.” She asked looking up at you.

“ You.” You whisper breathlessly.

“ More words Nena.”

“ I want your mouth on me and your fingers inside me.” You whisper shily.

Inggrid didn't wait any longer doing exactly as you say.

She put her mother on your clit and pumped 3 fingers inside of you. With both being on the same rhythm you were quick to become a mess. Your moans were getting louder by the minute. “ Can I come please please please?” You ask Ingrid.

“ Don't ask me “ she responds before resuming her actions.

You look over the room trying to find maria. You find her on the couch adjacent to your bed. She was naked, her hand massaging her breasts, her legs wide open, and her core dripping. She was laser focused on Ingrid who was between your legs while touching herself.

“ Mapi, please can I come please.” You beg her.

“ Only if you moan my name while coming.” She demands.

After hearing that Ingrid sped up her pace. You start to uncontrollably moan Maria's name louder and louder before you come.

You were blissful when you came back down from your high. When you opened your eyes you found Ingrid making out with Maria. Maria wants to be as loud as you. She quietly.

You noticed mapi putting her strap on after she was done and started to look at her with worried looks.

“ I know you are sensitive today baby. This is for the princess.” She resured you.

Feeling cold you put on Ingrid's shirt which was tall because she was.

You moved to the side allowing for more space to the couple.

They start making out again In Front of you, Maria playing with Ingrid's hair after releasing it from the ponytail it was on.

They were both standing on their knees, whispering words to each other you couldn't hear. You loved seeing them act like the couple they were before you came. They have a deep sense of understanding of one another without letting you feel left out.

Maria then flips Ingrid so that her strap lines with Ingrid's ass. Ingrid throws her head on Maria's shoulder when she starts inserting her strap in her. Ingrid went loud either she just moved her mouth without making any sound as mTia worked her way inside of her. Your eyes never left them as Maria worked her way harder and faster inside Ingrid soliciting a few moans from her.

“ Enjoying the show amor.” Asks maria.

“Uhmm.” You respond, your mouth open.

“ I want to come mapi '' Ingrid didn't bed Maria but when she demanded to come the former allowed her.

“ Look at our baby while you do.” She said,

Ingrid looked eye contact with you as she fell forward after her orgasm hit her.

Maria them disposed of her strap and next to you. She opened her arms for both you and Ingrid. You both simultaneously lay on her chest.

“ Are you okay?” Ask you, Ingrid.

“ Yeah.” You respond.

“ I love you “

“I love you too “ they both say at the same time.

[mynameismckenziemae]

All of Me

Part 7

(previous part here, next part here)

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x You

Summary: Jake shows up when he doesn’t have to and it just makes you want him more.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI! Smut, ass play, oral (both m & f receiving), femdom kind of?, p in v, idk probably more. Lmk if I missed anything.

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>

“Look who I found wandering around like a lost puppy,” Bradley says as he enters your office with his lunch on Monday. “Said he was on his way here?”

Jake comes in behind him, looking a little worse for wear.

“Yeah,” you reply, “We talked about it on Saturday, he’s got a little bit of a medical phobia so we’re gonna try having lunch in the medical center and see if it helps.”

“Makes sense,” Bradley nods, buying the ruse. “That’s why you kept putting your physical off, eh?”

“Yeah,” Jake replies, picking at his food.

“I won’t tell anyone,” Bradley tells him, trying to put him at ease, “Can’t say much when I’m terrified of clowns,” he turns to you. “What time is Drew’s game on Wednesday?”

“6,” you pull out your phone to double-check.

“I should be able to make it then. Wanna come?” He asks Jake.

Jake looks at you, not wanting to overstep.

“Drew would love it,” you say honestly, giving him the okay.

“Sure,” he smiles, “I’ll be there.”

“Hey, did you sign him up for that camp yet?” Bradley asks, “he’s been talking about it nonstop and asked me to remind you.”

“Yes, last night. It’s a 2-week sleep-away camp,” you explain to Jake. “I was a little hesitant; he’s only 8 and it’s right after school lets out so I won’t get to spend much time with before he has to leave but I decided to let him go. I never got to do fun stuff like that when I was a kid.”

Jake nods. “Some of my favorite memories were made at summer camp.”

“Agreed,” Bradley says. “Plus you’ll have 2 weeks to all to yourself. Maybe you’ll finally get laid.”

Jake’s trying not to smile as you choke on the water you were sipping. “Jesus Roo.”

He shrugs. “What? Maybe you’d sleep better after getting dicked down.”

“Please stop,” you mutter, hiding your face in your hands.

“I’m just saying,” he continues. “Maybe Jake here could help you out?”

It’s Jake’s turn to choke.

“Just because you’re a manwhore doesn’t mean the rest of us have to be,” you tease as you throw a crouton at him.

“I’m not-hang on I’ve gotta take this, it’s Cyclone,” Bradley says, answering his phone as he steps out in the hallway.

Jake gives you a knowing smile as you shake your head at Bradley’s antics.

“…be right there,” Bradley says as he returns a moment later only to grab his lunch and turn back to the door. “Gotta go, he wants to talk to me quick before our hop this afternoon. See ya guys.”

“Bye,” the two of you reply but he’s already gone.

“So what’d you do yesterday?” You ask.

“Not much, just caught up on some laundry. You?”

Missed you. Thought about you all day.

“Cleaned, caught up on some laundry too, and played baseball with Drew and Ron,” you reply.

“You play baseball too?” He asks. “Is there anything you can’t do?”

You smile. “I played a lot of sports growing up,” your smile fades as you continue. “Anything to avoid going home.”

“Understandable,” his foot nudges yours under the desk; comforting you. “Drew’s lucky to have such a cool mom.”

“He thinks so too. For now at least,” you laugh.

The rest of the lunch passes quickly and soon Sophie’s in the door frame letting you know your afternoon is starting.

“We have lunch meetings the next few days, but I’ll see you at Drew’s game,” he says as he stands.

“Sounds good. I won’t tell him just in case something comes up and you can’t make it,” you say, giving him an out if he wants it.

“I’ll be there,” he says softly, looking towards the door before giving you a quick kiss. “See ya.”

“Bye,” you smile as butterflies take flight in your stomach.

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>

Another package of Reese’s peanut butter cups sits on your desk the following morning, and the next. Knowing now that he avoids the medical unit like the plague, makes his early morning chocolate deliveries even more special.

You’ve texted back and forth a few times but there are lulls in responses from both of you due to busy schedules. So by the time you’re done with work Wednesday, you’re anxious to see him again.

Your phone buzzes as you sit on the bleachers beside Tina and Ron who brought Drew early for warm-ups.

Jake: Our last hop ran late but we’re on our way.

Reese: Sounds good, I’ll save you guys a seat.

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>

Drew’s on deck when the Bronco pulls in and his face lights up like Christmas morning when he sees Bradley and Jake walking up.

“Look!” He mouths at you once he finds you in the stands, pointing in their direction.

You nod with a smile on your face, blinking back the unexpected tears that spring to your eyes.

Jake always looks good; but his damp hair, tight jeans, and showing up to your son’s little league game has you ready to jump his bones.

“Who’s that with Bradley?” Tina whispers. “He’s cute. Is he single?”

You laugh, happy that her eyes are on Jake so she doesn’t see the way you flush. “His name’s Jake, he’s in Bradley’s squadron. I think he’s single,” you lie.

“I’d hope so with the way he’s looking at you,” she murmurs, nudging you.

She’s always been observant. Too observant.

“He’s younger than me,” you tell her. “Only 30.”

“Yeah. That’d totally make you a cradle robber,” she replies sarcastically with a snort. “Looks like Drew’s already a fan,” she continues noticing the way he waves at him excitedly.

You smile as they approach and have to swallow a whimper when you catch a whiff of his cologne as he sits beside you.

“Hey,” his eyes flick to your lips, and leans in, almost like he’s about to kiss you but he stops himself. The cutest blush rises up his neck.

“Hey,” you reply, wishing he hadn’t stopped. “You’re just in time. Jake, these are my…Drew’s grandparents, Ron and Tina.”

“Nice to meet you,” he shakes each of their hands.

“Keep that elbow up, bud! You got this!” Bradley calls from Jake’s other side. Drew nods as he steps up to the plate, his right elbow up.

He swings at the first pitch, but it’s a miss. The next 3 are balls, and the following is straight down the middle but he realizes it a second too late, his head dropping forward in frustration.

“Shake it off,” Jake yells and Drew’s head pops up and he meets Jake’s eye. “Let ‘er rip it if it’s in there.”

Drew takes a deep breath and nods as he steps into the batter's box.

It’s another one right down the middle. He swings, making contact. You rise to your feet and the ball sails over the center fielder’s head.

“Run!” All of you yell as Drew stands there, stunned.

With that, he takes off. Rounding second base as the outfield recovers the ball. It’s thrown to third as he approaches that base but it’s overthrown.

“Go home!” You call, bouncing on your heels.

He slides in just as the catcher gets it and you can’t see anything from the cloud of dust.

But as the dust clears the ump calls “Safe!”

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<��>

Drew beams the rest of the game; playing better than ever from the confidence boost of his first home run.

Everyone goes with you for ice cream after and Tina gives you pointed looks all night that have you rolling your eyes but you can’t help but smile.

Knowing you have her approval makes your heart feel lighter than it has in a long time.

You type a quick text to Jake while you wait for Drew to buckle in after.

Reese: Do you want to come over tonight? After Drew’s asleep?

Jake: Yes.

Jake: LMK when I’m okay to come over.

Reese: Will do.

“Do you think Dad saw it? My home run? Do you think he’s proud of me?” Drew asks as you pull into the driveway.

His words tug at your heartstrings. He usually brings up Andy when big events like this happen.

“I’m sure he saw it,” you reply truthfully, turning around to look at him. “and I know he’s proud of you.”

He nods and gives you a small smile before heading inside.

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>

“Can you be good and stay quiet for me?” You murmur later as you bring Jake’s lips to yours for a searing kiss as you reach back to lock the door of your bedroom.

“I’ll try,” he breathes as he rucks your shirt up and over your head. “Wanna be good for you.”

You shiver at his words while he unbuttons your shorts before pushing them down your legs, leaving you only in your pretty lace underwear and matching bra that you put on earlier.

“Pretty,” he murmurs as his fingers trail over your cleavage, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

You smile and guide him backward toward your bed, stripping him naked before pushing him gently onto his back, pressing kisses down his neck and across his collarbone. He jolts when you flick your tongue over his nipple.

“This okay?” You ask, looking up at him. When he nods you do it again before giving it a gentle suck while running your fingers over the other.

You play with his chest for a while, seeing what he likes and what gives the biggest reactions; and like he admitted to you before, he likes a little pain.

“Like that?” You ask as you pull your mouth off the sensitive bud, fingers still pinching the other.

“Yessss,” he sucks a breath in through his teeth when you pinch harder; both of them now.

You kiss your way lower, wanting to pleasure him in other ways.

Precum is steadily leaking from the tip and he gasps when you pull it into your mouth with a satisfied hum. Giving him a few sloppy bobs to coat him fully with your saliva before going lower to mouth his sac, enjoying the way he shudders. You wet your fingers in your mouth and sit back up.

“Have you ever been touched back here?” You ask, fingers tracing just behind his drawn-up balls, waiting to hear what he says before going further.

“No,” he shakes his head. “Heard it can be good though.”

“Want me to?” You ask before sucking the head of his cock into your mouth again. “I’ll stop if you don’t like it.”

He nods, head falling back on your pillow when you start sucking him off again. Once his hands slide into your hair you move your finger lower, tracing a wet fingertip over his tight ring of muscle. His fingers tighten in your hair and he tenses at the first touch eventually relaxing when you begin to circle.

“Fuck,” he rasps when you gently press; the broken sound making you clench. “That-ah…that’s good.”

“Mmm,” you hum around him, taking him a little deeper into your mouth, using your unoccupied hand to stroke what you can’t swallow.

“Ree-Reese,” he gasps, gently tugging on your hair to pull you off. “I’m gonna-can I cum?”

You nod, not letting him pull you off.

“I-where should…fuck!” He pants when you keep going, wanting nothing more than to taste him.

His eyes widen when he realizes your plan. One of his hands leaves your hair and you glance up to watch him pull one of your pillows over his face to muffle his wrecked groan as he cums.

You moan around him at the taste, swallowing each burst greedily, releasing him only when he begins to twitch with overstimulation.

Chest heaving, he tosses the pillow aside, eyes instantly catching on the movement of your thighs rubbing together.

He pulls you over him so fast your head spins; not taking the time to take off your underwear, he just licks you through the soaked lace as soon as your thighs straddle his face.

Your hands scrabble, finding your headboard as he pulls you down further onto his mouth, the grip on your thighs bruising as he eats you out.

When your thighs begin to shake, he slips his fingers inside you, curling them just how you like and that’s all it takes.

You nearly draw blood, biting your lip in an effort to stay quiet as you tremble through your release.

Before you come all the way down, there’s a rip of fabric and his tongue is on you again.

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>

You don’t know how much time passes (or how many orgasms occur) when he finally helps you off his face.

A glance shows you he’s hard again. Reaching into your bedside drawer you pull out a condom and slide it on him before straddling his hips reverse cow-girl style and sinking down. His hands come around to grip your hips as you begin to ride him.

Just as you’re about to wipe the excess condom lube on your thigh, an idea comes to mind and your slick fingers slide behind his sac again. He bends his knees, welcoming your touch.

Your motions remain the same as earlier as you ride him slowly; circling and pressing, not wanting to push him too far. But when he thrusts up at the same time as you sink down, your lubed finger slips and breaches him.

“Are you-“ you start to ask.

“Fuckkkkk,” he rasps, tilting his hips up in a silent plea for more.

You press further, clenching at the strangled moan that’s ripped from his throat and the way his hips jerk when you find his prostate.

Knowing he’s not going to last long, your free hand finds your clit as you continue to ride him, rubbing fast circles to his slow presses.

“I-oh God,” he sounds wrecked; barely coherent as he tries to tell you he’s close.

“Cum for me,” you murmur as you press more insistently, toeing the edge of your release already.

You fall off the edge when he pulses around your finger, filling the condom with a guttural groan.

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>

A/N: I think I blacked out when writing the smut.

Anywho🥴, what did you think?

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[butmakeitgayblog]

Ahhhhh Lexa is so cuddly in that oneshot! 😍😍

She had to be

Listen to me

She had to be

Because this little ray of sunshine?

Deserved to be allowed to be cuddly

Because the thing is, she always wanted to be. She did. Even when she didn't know how to ask for it. Even when all she knew how to do was nudge the door open for Clarke and wait silently to see what she'd do

Even when she didn't feel like she deserved to want it.

Lexa spent so much time worrying about Clarke's comfort and boundaries. So much time carrying the weight of her decisions like a scarlett letter on her chest. She lived with the guilt - not for the decisions themselves - but for how those decisions hurt Clarke, and how it all ultimately lost her the girl she had fallen so hard for, so fast.

But still, there were so many instances where she wanted nothing more than to be allowed to be soft. And you could see it.

So many times when she put herself out there just to feel like a fool in the end.

You could see it in these tiny glimpses of moments, her hesitation. Her disappointment. Her wanting so badly to reach out. But not letting herself.

Always waiting to be pushed away. Always accepting when she was. Always swallowing the pain of her own heartache while aching to be let in...

Which is why the second Clarke said yes? Lexa absolutely let the floodgates open.

While we saw after their first time she had given Clarke space again, had rolled away to recover from being fucked into a nap the intensity of finally getting to have that intimacy with Clarke, I don't think it was because it was what she wanted to do. I think it was pure instinct. Fear. A learned habit to always give Clarke space, and always another chance to push her away should Clarke want to. Seeing how Lexa operated when it came to Clarke, I don't think she took them having sex for granted in the aspect of "oh now all is forgiven." I think even after having Clarke make love to her, a piece of Lexa would've been careful not to push for too much too soon. Been too clingy. Assume Clarke woukd want to cuddle with her, to hold her. To even want Lexa to touch her the same way so intimately.

But.

When Clarke gave the ok? When Clarke made it clear that she was open to that?

Oh she smiled.

And she was happy

She held her hand during sex for godssake, you can't get more mushy than that

And even in her final moments, what made her break? What was the only thing that really truly cut through the pain and the strength of Heda, and gave Lexa a moment of solace?

Clarke's touch.

Clarke's comfort.

Being able to soak in another moment of just being close to her. Loved by her.

Lexa was always a touchy a person. She craved that physical intimacy with Clarke from day one. I mean we're talking about a woman who decided to casually ~take a nap~ on her canopy bed with the drapes open while an almost complete stranger waltz around her tent. She was always sending out the signals out that not only did she want more emotionally from Clarke, but that she wanted more physically. And I don't mean sex (ok well not just sex at least), she wanted that soft comfort of just being near her too.

So yeah. 100% I believe if given a chance to have more moments together after they'd both finally let each other back in, every time Clarke even halfway made it seem like she was open to it, I think Lexa would've become more and more comfortable letting go of her fears and been as affectionate as she'd always wanted. I think she would've become more and more snuggly, more tactile in her expressions of love and pride, to the point that when they were alone I don't think Clarke would've quite known what to do with herself and her little commander-noodle-arms shaped shadow

They still would've argued all the time tho

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for inkwell; Billy adopts Conner and it actually goes pretty good! (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“You’re welcome,” he says, resisting the urge to fidget again. “Um, so . . . do you want to watch something? Or maybe go to the library?” 

“N–” Lynn starts to say, and then–hesitates. Billy tries not to perk up too visibly, but probably does. “Uh . . . I don’t know.” 

“Okay!” Billy says, grinning maybe a little too proudly at him, but figuring there’s way worse things to be too much of than just proud. Actually, yeah, who cares? There isn’t any such thing as “too proud”, especially of his own kid. “Why don’t you know? Have you done either?”

“I’ve . . . watched things,” Lynn says slowly, looking back down at Tawky. “Lots of things. In Cadmus, and at Kid Flash’s house. I don’t . . . it’s . . . distracting.” 

Billy tilts his head, frowning consideringly. Well, Kid Flash watching TV with him makes sense, but did Cadmus have training videos, or–oh. No. Lynn wasn’t awake for most of his time at Cadmus. So what he means by “watched” is . . . 

Oh. Right. 

“‘Distracting’?” Billy asks, not sure if that means Lynn would rather have something more familiar or just get out of the apartment. He might feel a little less pressure that way. He’d always felt more out of sorts in a brand-new foster home, before he learned where things were and got used to being in somebody new’s space. Though he’s a lot less established in the apartment than any of those foster families ever were in any of their places, so . . . maybe that’s not a thing for Lynn? 

Though Billy was still here first and the whole world’s brand-new to Lynn, so maybe it is. 

“Too . . . loud,” Lynn says, his eyes slanting away. “Too fast. Too–bright, sometimes.” 

Billy frowns again, a little worried, then thinks–oh, right. 

“Oh, that might be because it’s probably calibrated for human senses,” he realizes. “Well–baseline human senses, I mean. Books aren’t like that, though, you can read them at your own pace. So do you wanna try the library? Or just have some time to yourself?” 

“. . . I don’t know,” Lynn says, which isn’t super-helpful but is still an improvement on saying something definitive that he doesn’t actually mean, so Billy’s not gonna complain. 

“Okay,” he says. “How about I clean up the takeout boxes while you think about it a little? And you can ask me questions, if you’re not sure about something. Or talk it over with Tawky, maybe.” 

“. . . sure,” Lynn says, his voice slow again. “Um. Okay.” 

“Great!” Billy says, beaming at him for a moment before getting to his feet and starting to collect all the empty boxes. They ate pretty much everything, so either Lynn needs more food than a normal human or just doesn’t really know what “hungry” and “full” feel like yet, which in retrospect is something Billy should’ve worried about sooner, but he figures a Kryptonian stomach isn’t gonna get a stomachache just because it overate a little, so it should be fine. Hopefully, anyway.

[btsbabe7]

Perfect Storm

Word Count: 3k

Pairing: Ominis Gaunt x reader

Warnings!: 18+, unprotected sex

Synopsis: While Ominis grapples with his feelings, you embrace your own in full bloom.

Ominis sits in a complete daze, exactly three rows from the front of The History of Magic. In a class where sleep is prioritized over education, he finds himself wide awake and engulfed by his own thoughts.

At a young age, Ominis Gaunt had learned the mastery of concealing his disdain, his happiness, and all other emotions in between that may apprehend him. It was a skill he found himself most proud of, especially as a Slytherin, simply because it kept him safe from the consequences of raw emotions and how others may perceive them. But on this particular afternoon, an hour after your coffee brown feathered owl, Nora had chirped seven times through his windowsill, Ominis felt something arise.

A feeling he had long forgotten had begun to muddle up and settle in the hollowness of his chest as it would after a sip of freshly brewed Butterbeer or morning pumpkin juice on an empty stomach. He’d only felt this way twice in his entire life. Once, when he’d learned he’d been invited to attend Hogwarts and would finally be able to escape the harsh scrutiny and peculiar upbringing of his pureblooded parents. Secondly, when he’d been introduced to Sebastian and Anne Sallow during his first year of attending. However, he would have never guessed that he’d feel this way about you, his now, not-no-new best friend that he can’t seem to stop thinking of. Though, there is one thing Ominis knows for certain, and that is that he must stop his heart from becoming too attached. Otherwise, the feeling would fester and utterly consume him.

When Professor Binn dismissed class, a herd of yawning students stumbled out in the connecting hallway of The Bell Tower in pure delight. As they do, you scan the crowd over, student by student, looking for only one in particular.

Amit Thakkar. Eric Northcott. Lenora Everleigh. Natsai Onai, who stops at your side with a sly smirk.

“Next time you decide to skip Binn’s class, I beg you have Nora deliver a notice beforehand. As much as an appreciate a midday nap, I do cherish adventure even more.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you giggle, though you know Natsai wouldn’t have wanted to join in on the adventure that had pulled you away from class on this particular day.

The high of Sebastian’s presence that typically lingered long after the fact comes to a standstill at the thought of other’s putting the pieces together. Surely word would soon travel of you missing your Magic of History course and the coincidence of your best friend Sebastian missing his Astronomy simultaneously. That thought alone is what steals your concentration from the leaving students and causes your mind to wander. A few seconds more and a small tap has you jolting as if you’ve seen a ghost for the first time.

“Ominis,” you breathe in relief.

“I could smell you,” he chuckles. “Well, you smell of Sebastian actually.”

“Oh, yeah… I, uh… We bumped into each other on the way to class and decided to ditch.”

Ominis is silent for a moment. He can always detect your hesitation when you lie, but it wasn’t a completely lie. You hope in your heart that he’ll buy it and not question any further, and in your favor, he chooses the latter.

“Nora stopped by before class,” he states. “She only chirped seven times. So you’re early, despite missing class.”

You rope your arm in Ominis’ and lead him downstairs and towards the doors which lead you out the castle.

“On my way over, I figured we could head to Hogsmeade early. We’re both done for the day and we don’t get much time alone without Seb. I tried to convince him to stay in tonight, but he was adamant about spending time with both of his best friends.”

Ominis hums in curiosity. Wondering what you’d bargained with Sebastian to get him to give you and him any time alone at all. Despite his curiosity, his own excitement wins the battle. He hadn’t had a moment alone with you since you’d met him and with Sebastian out of the way, even for a short moment, he’d finally have you to himself.

“Do we have to go to The Three Broomsticks? If we aren’t due there until seven this evening, we can go elsewhere?”

You purse your lips as you both waltz through the doors and into the warm breeze of spring. The air smells of heavy rain. The type of rain that smells of earth and dew and brings the worms from their humble adobes in the soil.

“I suppose we could go wherever we please.”

Ominis smirks, but turns in the opposite direction in order to conceal it from you.

“Perhaps we could go to The Undercroft?”

You glance up towards the sky. Heavy, grey clouds settle in the distance, remnants of a storm while another dares to roll in at a moment’s notice. As much as you love a brilliant storm, you’d love to spend time alone with Ominis more. After all, many storms have hovered in the skies above the grounds of Hogwarts, but time alone with your Slytherin friend weren’t as frequent.

“The Undercroft,” you hum in agreement.

Careful to evading the nosiness of curious students and staff, you and Ominis slip into the concealment of The Undercroft with relieved sighs. You gaze over the darkened room, casting Confringo towards the four hanging lamp posts before continuing inside.

Abandoned furniture, rusting cauldrons, and dusty barrels are stacked high against the surrounding walls, making the room appear much smaller than it feels. The room itself smells of burnt embers, left behind from all the times you and the duo had practiced Confringo here on end. You smile at the memories before meeting Ominis in the center of the room enveloped between four hefty, ornate columns.

A rug sits there now, one you’d managed to buy over Christmas break and bring in from home with the help of an Extension Charm. The others hadn’t seen it yet since you’d just placed it today before meeting Sebastian in the secrecy of his empty dorm.

“Confringo truly warms up the room,” Ominis breathes sarcastically before settling down. His brows rise at the sudden change of surface and he allows his fingertips to mold themselves into the thick fibers of the woolen rug with a gentle breath. “A rug?”

“Don’t you and Seb get tired of sitting on frigid concrete?”

“I’ve known nothing else.”

You smile softly, happy that you’re allowing him to experience something new in his safe place.

With your own need to relax, you kick your shoes off and drop your robe before joining Ominis on the rug. He jolts up at the feeling of your knee pressing against yours and tries to imagine your facial features in this moment, calm and soft.

“I wish we could enjoy the storm from here,” you whisper. “I’d love to hear the heaviness of the rain pitter pattering around us. The rumbling of thunder that comes with the rolling clouds.”

Ominis smiles. Taking in your words and imagining them in his head. The coolness of the rain prickling against your flesh and curls. What rolling clouds would look like when the thunder rumbles beneath your feet and lightening streaks through gray clouds. The way your lips curl into a grin and eyes close when you’re in a state of peace and tranquility only a storm can offer. You take your bottom lip in with a smile, laughing to yourself at the thought. It’s as if you and Ominis had shared the imagery telepathically.

“Y/n,” Ominis calls, though he has no words to say. After all, anything that would come out in this moment would come out as a stutter and surely you’d laugh in his face, even as his friend.

But you respond in the softest your voice has ever been around him, a simple yes, and he finds himself swooning. He falls silent, closes his eyes and takes in the smell of burning coals in the nearby lamps. It’s not the smell of wet earth, but it is familiar. As familiar as the fluttering in his stomach as he lies back in hopes to push them away, the butterflies. And much to his dismay, you replicate the action.

The smell of Sebastian has long worn away and your own smell of vanilla and worn book pages returns. The warmth of your body so close to his has him fighting to steady his breathing. He shuffles a bit in an attempt to create space, but ends up slapping his hand into yours instead. You smile at the feeling and allow your palm to clasp around his with a soft exhale.

A few moments of silence pass by and you drop Ominis’ hand to roll onto your side. With one hand propping up the side of your head, your eyes roam over your best friend. His robe is parted and his tie sits tightly around the ring of his crisp, white collar that’s nestled underneath his buttoned vest and open jacket. The hem of his button-up is still neatly tucked inside his belted, checkered grey trousers. His full length, grey socks are pulled to the knee and stuffed inside his short boots. And when your eyes gaze up towards his face, a soft smile sits on his lips as if he’s deep inside a fantasy only he can see.

“What’re you thinking about?”

Ominis’ smile turns into a hoarse cough, almost a choke. You pat him gingerly on the chest until he heaves out one last cough and wipes away the tears.

“Didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“Y-you didn’t,” he spats out. “I just didn’t know you were observing me.”

“Why wouldn’t I be? You’re the most interesting object in the room.”

His cheeks turn a cherry red and he gazes away nervously.

“I believe you to be more interesting,” he mutters.

You come up to your knees, allowing them to sink into the soft fibers of the rug.

“Prove it.”

You shock yourself and Ominis with that line, but it does the trick of pulling his reddened face back in your direction. Had this been Sebastian and you’d given him the chance, he wouldn’t have bat a lash before making a move, but Ominis has always been your greatest challenge. You know he won’t be the first to make the move even if the stone lied within his court. So, you find yourself climbing into his lap, straddling him as he attempts to find the words to say or expression to convey in response to your boldness.

“It’s alright,” you whisper.

“Are you sure?”

“Completely.”

Ominis’ trembling hands plant themselves against your jawline, thumbing over your soft cheeks, then the circumference of your lips. His mouth parts and your own need to feel him consumes you. You repeat the action of grasping his face and lean in closer until all that’s between you is a slither of air.

“Y/n,” Ominis speaks quickly. The call of your name propels his warmth against your lips. “This will change everything.”

“I know, Omi.”

He hesitates, then allows himself closer in consent. You settle down in his lap completely and draw your hands to the hairs at the nape of his neck, taking in the coarseness before your eyes flutter closed and your lips press gently into his.

Ominis’ body shutters underneath you as if he’s been set ablaze while yours kicks into overdrive. You help him slip off his robe and jacket, then mindlessly pluck the large, grey buttons from the holes of his vest. He shrugs out of it and clasps his arms around you, moaning as you both deepen the kiss and fall back on the rug. His hands travel over your waist, down your hips, then down your thighs on either side of him. He mentally takes in that you chose to wear a dress today, knowing he could use that to his advantage if you chose to go any further.

You pull away breathlessly and in a daze, drinking Ominis’ relieved express in like cool water.

“Do you think we have time?” You ask aloud, not necessarily to him as you reach back to grab your pocket watch from the inner pocket of your own robe. Barely an hour before you’re set to meet Sebastian in Hogsmeade. It’s not nearly enough time, but with the pout on Ominis’ face, you can’t deny yourselves the pleasure. “We’ll be quick…”

Ominis chuckles at the shakiness of your voice before pulling your lips back to his. If he had to face an annoyed Sebastian because you both arrived late, he’d take that over missing this opportunity with you. And in agreement, you and Ominis strip down to your undergarments in no time. Once his hand brushes against your bare flesh, he squeezes his eyes shut and pulls you down against him.

“Have you done this before?”

He shakes his head.

“Have you?”

You fear being honest in a time like this, when you know he’s so vulnerable, but you also know Ominis would be able to read your lies easily. Besides, in a time like this where everything is sacred, lying seems cruel.

“Only once,” you reply shakily.

Ominis’ expression fades into something unreadable, then a smirk appears.

“Perhaps you can show me how it’s done then?”

You scoff nervously. It wasn’t the response you were expecting. In fact, you were thinking he’d nudge you off of himself and start to redress. That you’d end up wallowing in shame all night over Butterbeers at the embarrassment.

You waste no time grinding against him, getting a feel for his size as soft pleas slip from his lips. Your own lips gasp at the feeling of him growing hard beneath your warmth. A bit surprised by his size, you lift up just enough to work the hardened member from his briefs. With a purr, you rub down the length and move your own garments to the side. You grasp one of Ominis hands and position it between your legs, and you swear his eyes widen like the moon at the sensation.

“Touch me here for now,” you croon, already aching in anticipation of the pleasure you know he won’t deny you.

Ominis rubs down your length, taking in the number of folds it takes to get to the source of your warmth. He clamps his hand over the mound, then slips a single finger into your depths, which earns a moan from your throat. He seems to like it, the prize that comes from knowing he’s touching you correctly.

“Just like that, Omi,” you mewl seconds before he pulls his finger in and out of your arousal. You work your own hand over his full length with a coating of your own saliva. “Can’t wait to feel you inside my wet pussy.”

He stops short as if his brain hadn’t processed it beforehand. He could feel you even more, more than his finger. Skin to skin, body to body. Luckily, you can’t deny yourself the pleasure anymore, and knowing that time is ticking by, you climb back into his lap and take him back into your grasp before lining your entrance up with the tip of his erection. It only takes the feeling of the tip poking inside to pull a heavy groan from Ominis’ lips. It makes you smile, the sight of him already squirming as you slip down the rest of his length with a loud whimper.

“Fuck, Omi, your cock feels amazing.”

“Y/n,” he whines and grips your waist the moment you start gliding back and forth with the length of his cock stuffed inside. It almost slips out, then you skillfully retract it back in. He squirms every time it gets close to falling out, a pinch of panic at the idea of losing this feeling.

His eyes shut and his blunt nails burrow into your flesh as you find a steady pace and your palms rest against his sweaty chest. You knew Ominis would feel astronomical inside of you, but he never knew he’d quickly become addicted to the feeling of himself being buried deep inside your depths.

You toss your head back and move Ominis’ hands up to your chest. He massages your breasts softly and unskillfully, scared of squeezing too hard in fear of hurting you.

“Lick them? Please?” You squeak and falter towards him. “Suck them.”

He feels for one of your protruding nipples and laps his warm tongue over the left, which causes the right to ache painfully in neglect. You massage into it yourself while trying to keep your pace. He pulls the left between his teeth and sucks on it hard, causing you to squeal before he moves to the right. You ride him faster, too overtaken by your own pleasure to notice him trembling beneath you. His own pants intertwine with yours and his hands find your hips again, this time guiding you up and down his twitching length.

“Y/n, I think I—“ Ominis’ words get caught in a groan so deep, your eyes flutter open.

“Oh, Omi… I’m going t— Nngh!”

He thrusts his hips upwards and your words fade into a sharp scream that leaves you shaking and trembling against him. Your eyes roll back and he pulls out of you with tremors of his own. You can feel a warm liquid spurting against your ass and you sigh in relief before collapsing on top of him. His chest heaves violently against yours. His, then yours until they fall back into a rhythmic pattern of normalcy.

Silence falls over the room once again and you trace lines down Ominis’ abdomen mindlessly. Yet, in his mind, he’s attempting to come to terms with the act you two just committed. He’s sure this will change absolutely everything.

Will he start bantering with Sebastian when he mindlessly flirts with you?

Will he slip up and curse one of the other students who brag about how hot the hero of Hogwarts is?

He would now know just how hot you can get after finally having you this way. Would that knowledge alone push him over the edge?

On the outside, he remains calm, but you sense that his mind is elsewhere. You trail a fingertip from the center of his forehead and down the bridge of his nose before leaning over him.

“What’s plaguing your mind, Ominis?”

He’s hesitant, but thinks better of. If he’s had you like his, in his most vulnerable state of nudity, then surely he can admit his feelings.

“I’m worried about the others… Sebastian…”

“What about them?”

“What they’ll think or say. About the lewd comments I overhear in class. And if we continue to do this, they’ll begin to notice we’re becoming more than friends.”

You ponder it over for a moment, but surely being perceived as more than friends wouldn’t be so preposterous.

“There are worst things out there, Ominis Gaunt, than our peers perceiving us as more than friends. Perhaps you wouldn’t be too worried if instead of being friends, w—”

“Instead of being friends?” Ominis sputters in confusion and panic.

You pat his chest gingerly.

“Yes, Omi. Instead of being friends, you consider being my boyfriend instead? And when they inquire, we’ll simply tell them we’re courting each other.”

His face turns as pale as Professor Binn, a true ghost, and he sits straight up as if to prevent a choking fit again.

“You want to court me? You truly fancy me?”

“Of course. I thought that much was evident. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have spent the entire afternoon attempting to get Sebastian’s blessing of giving us time alone. And I surely wouldn’t be plastered against your body fully naked,” you snort.

Color fades back into his cheeks, but he remains flustered. That’s the reason you smelled of Sebastian, you’d been in his dorm all afternoon, and knowing Sebastian convincing him would’ve taken a while. And now it made perfect sense that he’d granted you the time alone and hadn’t once wondered into The Undercroft with all the time that’s passed. It’s as if everything has finally clicked in his mind.

Ominis recognizes something else too, the feeling that had settled in his chest earlier in the day. It’s the very feeling he felt once he was granted freedom from the abuse of his parents, the feeling he felt when he’d met Sebastian and Anne, the feeling you grant him now and always have, is hope. A hope for something new and better in the midst of his own chaotic storms. And with that realization, Ominis caresses your cheek and presses his lips ever so slightly into yours.

And after a few deep kisses, he pulls back, leaving a sliver between you two to flash a brilliant smile before finally answering your burning question.

“Of course I’ll be yours. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Please be sure to check out my other latest fics:

⚡︎ Rain Does Not Fall on One Roof Alone (m.) - Ominis Gaunt x Sebastian Sallow x reader

⚡︎ Untitled (m.) - Sebastian Sallow x Ominis Gaunt x reader

⚡︎ Coffee (Love You a Latte) - Sebastian Sallow x reader

⚡︎ For You Always (m.) - Severus Snape x reader

⚡︎ HP: November Prompt Challenge (days 1-30)

~ Navi: masterlist (all fandoms)

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction, but please don’t copy! Written purely for fun :) Please only repost to other socials w/my permission and credit! Reblogging w/credit is fine. Thank you! ♡

May 2024

[oftenwantedafton]

the long way home | steve raglan x female reader

inspired by @arkarti ’s ongoing fanart series

rating | explicit

words | 4.7k

cw | sexual content

ao3 link

It’s the worst sort of luck, breaking down in the middle of nowhere.

The only saving grace is that it happens in the early morning, just after sunrise. You walk that dusty interstate road for what feels like hours. You have cowboy boots on that are meant to be flashy, not really proper footwear. Your heels are killing you and the sand that decorates the barren landscape feels like it has seeped into every pore and crevice. You can taste it, feel its grit in your hair and on your skin. The sun beats down and you’re grateful that you at least have sunglasses to shield your eyes. You’ve got your hair pinned up but it doesn’t really help with the heat much. You’re drenched in sweat that makes your tshirt cling to an even wetter bra and your skirt drags against damp thighs with every step. Sheer misery and yet you plod on, because you can’t—won’t—go back where you came from. There is just the promise of something more, moving forward.

You think you hear an engine and turn your head. The road has that shimmery haze to it, making it difficult to discern if there is anything moving over that lift of pavement you’d navigated awhile back. It’s getting larger, closer, so you decide it’s not a mirage after all. The vehicle is the same color as the ground you’ve grown to detest trodding over, a bland beige shade with a slightly darker interior. You grind to a halt and the sedan slows and pulls onto the shoulder, the tires dipping off the asphalt and onto the dirt.

You’ve been taught never to pick up hitchhikers, but not what to do when faced with the prospect of being one. Your steps are cautious as you approach the parked car. You haven’t gotten a good look at the driver yet, not that that was any clear indication of their intentions. Looks could be deceiving. Anyone could be dangerous.

The man—you can see it’s a male now, behind the wheel—leans over and cranks the handle of the window around, the glass descending and disappearing from view. He’s got a long sleeve shirt on which seems a poor choice given the climate, but you can feel the cool waft of air that emanates from within. The car has air conditioning. You find yourself taking an involuntary step closer towards that promised land. To be away from the sun. To feel a cool breeze. You’re not sure you can resist that kind of temptation.

“Need a ride?” It seems a foolish question. Of course you did. You’re hardly out for a leisurely stroll. “That was your car back there, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, she quit on me.”

“That’s a shame.”

The man’s voice is pleasant. You like the sound of it. There’s a rasp to it, combined with something else that’s difficult to describe. You notice he’s wearing a tie to go with the shirt. A traveling salesman, maybe? He’s got that demeanor. Smooth talker. Neatly trimmed facial hair, the same blend of salt and pepper as the rest. Glasses. Friendly smile that makes the lines around his eyes crinkle, becoming more pronounced. Dimples, too. You know you’re staring and you know it’s rude. You shuffle your feet, kicking up a little cloud of dust.

“I’m happy to give you a lift somewhere. I promise I’m not a serial killer.” He chuckles softly and you join him, relaxing slightly. The driver seems innocent enough. Maybe you’re just being paranoid.

Still you hesitate. You glance back the way you came. You look ahead. It all looks the same. So far to travel on foot. It was almost midday. The temperature was rising. It isn’t just about discomfort; it’s dangerous to your health, being out here like this.

“I’ve got water. Ice has melted by now, but…”

It’s the final shove you need. You lift the chrome handle and settle inside, cranking the window back up. The shift in the temperature is incredible. The shade. You murmur your gratitude. A thermos is pressed into your hands.

“Make sure you put your seatbelt on. Wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.” You finish gulping down the drink he’s gifted to you. Best damn thing you’ve ever tasted. You hastily jerk on the nylon strap, securing it over your shoulder and across your waist, the buckle settling into place with a satisfying click. You offer to return the drink, secretly glad when he insists you finish it.

You drain that container so fast your stomach aches. The ice hadn’t melted that much, actually. You keep the leftovers in your mouth, allowing them to dissolve. You squirm a bit, your feet still uncomfortable.

“Take those off, if you want.”

“Thanks. I’m sorry if my feet stink. I wasn’t planning on walking so much in them.” You bend and tug each one off, sighing in relief. Your bare feet curl against the shallowly carpeted floor mat. Sheer bliss, except those tender spots you’re pretty sure might be forming blisters. You’re not going to prod them just yet to verify.

“Thanks again for giving me a lift.” You introduce yourself.

“No problem. I was heading in this direction anyway. No reason not to. Put the radio on if you want. Or take a nap.”

You’re not sure sleeping is the best idea right now, as weary as you are. The man is still a stranger. So you opt for the first choice, fiddling with the dials until you find a station with a decent signal. Not really your type of music, but at least it’s background noise. You let your head tip back into the cradle of the head rest. Your eyes shut. You’re only going to rest them for a moment.

You fall asleep.

***

You jerk awake, suddenly aware the vehicle has stopped.

There’s a definite trail of drool leaking from the corner of your mouth. You swipe at it hastily, straightening in your seat, your eyes darting around frantically. You’re suddenly thinking of the drink you’d been offered. Drugged? How stupid and careless can you be?

No. You’re mistaken, surely. Just tired. You can see you’re at a gas station. He’d stopped at a gas station. Nothing wrong with that.

You struggle to shove your feet—yes, those are blisters, a matching set for each foot—back into your boots, depressing the button to release the seat belt’s buckle, the restraint making a little whining sound as it retracts back into its plastic casing mounted on the side of the car. You push the passenger door open and it creaks in protest. You’re not about to pass up a chance to use the restroom, as vile as it probably is, and grab yourself a drink and a snack.

The man giving you a lift emerges from the store, and you realize then just how tall he is, mostly legs that go on forever. He’s got a rolling sort of walk that draws your attention to his hips. Your cheeks flush and you force yourself to look at somewhere safer, fixing back on his face. There’s a piece of cherry licorice between his teeth, shiny red twined ropes tucked through a barrier of even white, the pocket of his shirt bulging with what looks like a pack of cigarettes, a bottle of soda in hand. “Hey. I was going to wake you, just wanted to give you a chance to rest a bit more. You were really worn out.”

“Yeah, I guess I was.”

“Want something from inside? My treat.”

“No, I…I got it. You don’t mind waiting?”

“Not at all.”

“Th…thanks. I won’t be long.” You duck inside the shop to get a key for the restroom. It’s attached to a comically large piece of scrap wood. You unlock the restroom door and push it open with trepidation. Okay, not terrible. Seems relatively clean. Certainly not the grossest you’ve seen. No paper towels in the dispenser, but at least there was toilet paper. Even soap in the pump on the wall. Definitely could have been worse.

You return the key and peruse the aisles quickly, aware the man is still waiting for you. You decide water is still the best for hydration, opting for a package of mini powdered donuts for a snack. Not the healthiest option, but hey, you think you’ve earned it considering the day you’ve had.

Back inside the sedan, you slide the seatbelt back into place. You shove your feet free of the boots again and crack the plastic wrapper off the water bottle. It’s one of those ones with the nozzles you pull up and down to open and close it. You take a long pull and get started on the donuts. Your companion has made short work of the candy, chewing and staring at nothing in particular. He reaches for the pack—cigarettes, just as you’d suspected—in his shirt pocket and pulls the bit of red plastic tab that marks where to unravel the wrapper. He glances over at you as if to ask if you mind and you shrug. It’s not really your place to tell the owner of the vehicle you’re in if he can or can’t indulge.

He leans and pushes in the cigarette lighter on the dashboard, slotting one of the paper rolls between his lips while he’s waiting. For a time you sit in companionable silence, you nibbling on your donuts, your fingers and lips already dusted in powdered sugar, while the older man lights the end of his cigarette and takes a deep inhale, sighing the smoke out of the open window. You’re surprised he’s a smoker, honestly; his teeth look too pearly white for that. Maybe it was something he only did rarely, when the mood struck him. Traveling with a young female hitchhiker, perhaps.

You demolish the contents of the package in your lap embarrassingly quickly. You’d been starving. You lick the white coating off your fingers and lips and feel the man’s eyes on you as you crumple the plastic packaging in a tight ball. He points to the center console, where the lone vacant cup holder holds spare change and a faded looking receipt, the other occupied by his soda. You deposit your trash there and take another sip from your bottle, staring out the window. The engine rumbles to life. You hear the window crank being rotated and you copy the man, closing your own. The cool air soon returns, drafting welcomingly over your skin. The car is moving again. You’re on your way once more.

***

When the sun starts to go down, things feel different.

Maybe it’s because the radio signal has finally gone out of range. You tire of working your way through bursts of static and finally shut it off.

You wonder if the driver is getting tired at all.

He doesn’t seem it, his eyes focused on the road his headlights reveal, his posture still straight and upright. You don’t know how he maintains it. You can’t stop squirming, trying to get comfortable. Your ass hurts and your legs are cramped and you just want a shower and any even remotely flat surface that can serve as a bed.

“You never mentioned where you wanted to go.”

His voice startles you. It’s been so long since either of you has spoken. You’d forgotten how his sounded. That pleasant gravel drag.

“Hurricane. But I know that’s still a ways ahead. I don’t expect you to take me all the way there.”

“What’s in Hurricane?”

“Not what. Who. My sister.”

He grunts. “I’m going to Hurricane as well.”

“Really? Why?”

“That’s where I live. Where my business is.”

“What business is that?”

“Restaurant.”

“Really? Which one?”

“What do you think about stopping here for the night?” He gestures and you look through the windshield, seeing the lights of a motel glowing like a beacon against the growing darkness.

“Uh, yeah. I guess so.”

The turn signal taps in a rhythm that sounds a little too rapid, matching your elevated heart rate. You’re feeling nervous again. Mistrustful, although if the man had wanted to take advantage of you, he certainly could have done so before now.

He pulls into one of the empty spots in front of the office that shares a similar bit of crimson neon to match the motel’s vacancy sign. You speak before he exits the car, feeling pressured to say something before this continues any further.

“I’m grateful for the ride, and I know you’ve been nothing but kind this far, and I appreciate it. I might…I might just see if my sister can come pick me up tomorrow. I hope you’re not offended.”

He pauses, his fingers still curled around the door handle. “If that’s what you want.” You nod. “Alright, then. I guess this is where we part ways. Good luck to you, miss.”

“Thanks. You, too.” You’re suddenly feeling guilty. He really was just a nice guy trying to help a stranded woman out. He didn’t deserve this kind of treatment. “Maybe I’ll visit your restaurant, leave a generous tip for—” The door shuts and you cease talking. Well. That was one way to end a conversation.

You pull the boots back on and exit the car for what you think will be the final time. Your traveling companion is already inside, speaking to the man behind the counter. You can see the rows of keys with red tags hooked on the wall behind him. The man turns and pulls two down while the driver scribbles into a book on the counter. There’s a faint jingling of bells to announce your arrival, and the man passes you without a word.

“I need a room please. Single.” Your eyes glance down at the log book. You can’t read the signature of your benefactor. He still hasn’t told you his name.

“You’re all set, miss. Paid up by your friend there.” He waggles his eyebrows and nods towards the door.

“Oh, he’s not…”

“No?” The smile on the man’s features is far too suggestive. You grab the key off the counter, turning to leave.

“Sign the book, please. Then you can go to your room. Or your friend’s. Both paid for, so it’s all the same to me.” Another smug smile. You hurriedly scrawl your signature and exit the office, feeling your cheeks burn.

Your heels are loud on the decking that lines the front of the motel rooms. You glance down at the number printed on the tag, a chipped white six greeting your vision.

Your steps slow when you reach the correct door. The sedan is parked in front of the door beside yours. Of course the motel manager has given you rooms next to each other. Of course he has.

The man is apparently already inside the room, the car empty. You insert the key in the lock and shut the door, sliding the chain across. You close the blinds and turn to survey your surroundings. About what you’d expected. Dated furniture that felt straight out of the seventies. A carpet that badly needed to be replaced. You hoped there weren’t bed bugs. Gross.

You stride over to the bathroom. Chipped sink. Chipped toilet. Chipped tub too, but you don’t really care. You crank the faucet and let the water pour out, hastily reaching to plug the drain. You’re finally back out of that accursed footwear. Your clothes pile on the floor. Maybe not the best idea, but you’re too desperate to get into the tub just then.

It’s heaven. Sheer bliss, submerging yourself in that basin. You spend a long time soaking, letting your body temperature decrease. Scrubbing away the dirt that has clung so stubbornly to your skin. Rinsing your hair twice. You linger until your fingers prune and then you unplug the drain and turn on the shower, rinsing off a final time. You don’t have anything clean to sleep in, but you’ll survive. You’d wash your clothes in the sink, but it will take time to dry them. So back on the shirt and panties go. You leave your bra and skirt draped over the shower curtain rod. Fuck those boots.

You put the television on low volume and flip back the flower patterned coverlet. Well, it seemed insect free, anyway. You sink onto the mattress and pile the pillows together behind your head. You don’t hear any noise from next door. The room on the other side looked unoccupied, and the driver’s…well, maybe he’d just gone to bed.

He’d paid for your room. You had to thank him, at least. Damn it.

You slide back out of bed, returning to the bathroom to slip on your bra and skirt, cringing when you view those hated boots again. Fuck it. You’ll risk going barefoot. Knowing your luck you’ll step on a rusty nail and get tentanus, but fuck it.

You open your door, startled when you see the man standing outside. He’s leaning against one of the deck posts, smoking again. The end of the cigarette glows in the darkness.

“Thank you for paying for my room. You didn’t have to do that, you know.”

“I’m aware.” He barely spares you a glance, blowing a stream of smoke and flicking the ashes from the end of the cylinder pinched between his fingers.

“You should let me pay you back. There’s a liquor store just down the road.”

“I noticed that.”

“I’ll treat you. Pick your poison.”

His eyes focus on you again, his gaze lingering on your bare feet. “I don’t think they’ll let you inside like that.”

“I’ll put the boots back on,” you grumble.

The man hums thoughtfully. “Tell you what. I’ll go get something and bring it back here to share.”

“But then that’s you doing me a favor again.”

“Yes.”

“So then I’ll owe you even more.”

“I’m not keeping track. That’s you doing that.”

You chew your bottom lip. “Why did you pay for my room?”

He shrugs, taking another drag. “Seemed like the right thing to do.”

You don’t have a response for that. Everything the man did just made you feel more and more ashamed for doubting his intentions.

“What do you want to drink?”

“I…beer is fine.”

“Then beer it is.” The remains of the cigarette land on the pavement and the man steps off the deck, grinding it beneath his heel. “I’ll be right back.”

You nod, settling into the one of the cheap plastic chairs beside a small circular table that served as a patio set. You can hear the faint hum of insects, or maybe it’s the neon signs. It’s still hot. The pleasant effects of your bath are already fading.

True to his word, the man returns with a case, setting it on the table and sitting across from you. He’s loosened his tie so that it drapes in a lazy knot around his neck. It doesn’t look like he’s sampled the motel’s plumbing just yet. He rips a hole through the carboard box and hands you one of the bottles before taking his own. Chilled, and already sweating. You wrap the hem of your shirt over the cap and twist it off. You take a sip and hear the satisfied sigh of your companion as he does the same.

“You didn’t tell me your name,” you say, fiddling with the metal cap with the crimped edges, spinning it on the table’s surface. There isn’t much room with the beer case there.

“It’s Steve.”

“Steve,” you repeat. “Steve what?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“In case I decide to look you up. You know, to pay you back.”

He waves a hand in the air dismissively. “You didn’t see what I wrote in the logbook?”

“Your handwriting is atrocious.”

Steve clutches his chest, sucking in his breath dramatically. “I’m deeply offended.”

“You’re not. Why won’t you tell me? Is it a big secret?”

“Maybe. Maybe I’m a celebrity, just trying to live like the common folk.” He takes a pull from the bottle.

“Yeah, sure. Just like the rest of us losers.” You pause. “You’re handsome enough to be an actor. Got the voice for it. I can kind of see it, actually.” The compliment slips from your lips before you can think better of it.

“Flattery, now? I don’t think my heart can take this much stress.”

“You’ll survive.”

“Probably.” He finishes the bottle and reaches for another.

“So out with it, Mister Movie Star. What is it?”

“Raglan.”

“See? Was that so difficult? Nice to meet you, Steven Raglan.”

“Not Steven. Just Steve.”

“Okay. Just Steve.” You finish your bottle and colllect another. “How come you’re so chatty all of a sudden? You didn’t say five words to me all day. Are you that much of a lightweight?” You gesture with the beer bottle.

“Hardly. I was concentrating on the road.”

“You could’ve talked more.”

“I apologize for not making your ride more entertaining.” He stands, resuming his position leaning against the post again. You rise as well, noting you are the actual lightweight, already feeling a bit lightheaded. Blame the empty stomach. You pad over to stand beside him. “I thought you wanted privacy. It’s not my place to ask for details about your life.”

You consider that. “You think I’m being nosy.”

“No. Not really.” He swallows another mouthful of beer. “You don’t trust me.”

“I…I’m being cautious. A woman stranded in the middle of nowhere should be, don’t you agree?”

“Of course.”

“If it was your wife, or daughter…”

He smirks. “Clever way to source the information you want. I’m no longer married. Children are grown. It’s just me. The handsome movie star, all alone.”

“Okay, okay.” You nudge his arm playfully.

“What about you?”

“Single as a Pringle,” you quip.

“That’s a new development, isn’t it? What you’re leaving behind.”

“Am I that transparent?”

“I’m good at reading people.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

You pull the now empty bottle from his hands and place it along with yours down on the table, selecting two more. You hand one to him and take a long sip from yours. They’re going down so smooth. You don’t even really like beer all that much. It’s making you feel warm and you hate that, but you like the buzz and you like the company, too.

“Okay, since you’re so insightful, tell me what I’m thinking right now?” You fold your arms across your chest, smirking after issuing the challenge. You’d meant it to be playful, but the look he gives you as he turns to face you holds no humor. Those blue eyes capture yours and trap them.

“You’re hoping your sister is more welcoming than you remember, because when you left, you weren’t on the best of terms. You’re hoping you can find a job soon and get back on your own two feet again. Relying on your ex so much was a mistake. You hate asking for help, even if you need it desperately. You—”

“—Stop.” You cut him off. “Don’t…don’t say that. You don’t know that. You don’t know me.”

“Alright.” Another shrug. He swallows more beer.

“How do you know so much?” Your voice is soft.

“I told you. I have a way with people.”

“You should be a fortune teller. Or one of those televangelists. Spouting prophecies that are actually real.”

“I despise religion. And I don’t predict the future. I just…understand people. Their motives. Even the ones they’re too ashamed to admit to.”

You’re not sure how to respond. The conversation is shifting, no longer light and comfortable and teasing.

“That’s why I don’t talk much. People don’t like hearing the truth,” he concludes, polishing off the rest of the alcoholic beverage he’s clutching. “I’m going to say goodnight now. It’s been a long day. Again, good luck.”

“Wait.” Your hand clutches his sleeve. “Let me…let me try it. What you just did.”

“You think you know all my secrets? Okay, I’ll indulge you. Go ahead.”

You lick your lips. “You’re coming back from somewhere you didn’t want to go, but you’re not exactly eager to get home, either. You’re tired of your business. You’re probably good at it, but it’s boring. Monotonous. You’ve always played by the rules. You long to break them, just once. See how the other half lives.”

His mouth curves slightly. “A nice attempt. But way off. Goodnight.”

He’s back at his door, hand reaching for the brass knob.

“You’re name isn’t really Steve Raglan.”

His fingers freeze. You see his shoulder blades stiffen beneath the dress shirt. He turns back to face you. Smiling again, but this one is darker, less friendly. “Good. That’s good. Clever girl.”

“What else have you lied about?”

“You’ll figure it out.”

You take a step closer to him. “Tell me now.”

“Why don’t you just ask for what you really want instead of playing this tedious game?”

Your mouth gapes, then snaps shut. “I don’t know what you’re…”

“This,” he breathes, dragging you to him, his lips touching yours.

Any protest you might have murmured dies. You melt against him, sink hands into hair that feels as dusty as yours had earlier, clutch handfuls of the rumpled fabric of his shirt that had undoubtedly started out the day crisply pressed and neatly tucked. He tastes like the beer he’s just consumed and the cigarette from earlier and you savor it all, letting him lick your mouth open for discovery. You’re shoved against the door and it strikes you again how tall he is, how much he towers over you. Those large hands already display more finesse than anything you’ve previously known, stroking over every curve, mapping each sensation. You hear the doorknob rattle as he fumbles it open, keeping you secured, not letting you tumble back into the sudden void at your back. His room is dark and he shoves you down onto the bed that’s still made. You wonder what he’d done while you’d been lingering in your own bathtub for all that time.

He’s at your neck and you’re at his pants and somehow you manage the belt and the fly while your skirt is lifted, panties tugged down. You’re not thinking about anything other than the need screaming between your legs, hot and damp and urgent, whimpering when you feel his cock pressing against your entrance. You’re not even sure if he’s shut the motel door in his haste to be at you.

He slides out of you almost as soon as he’s begun—you’re so wet and slippery—and he grabs your hips and shoves you back, leaning his body weight against you, and this time he fills you to the hilt. You wrap your legs around him and roll your hips to match his momentum, your mouth brushing facial hair before reconnecting with his lips. You’re fucking a stranger that lied about his name and you don’t care; it makes it better somehow, not really knowing. You don’t want to get caught up in details, in feelings again this soon. This man can be anything and everything and if it only lasts for tonight that’s fine, too.

His mouth tucks beside your ear and he whispers to you in that wonderful rusted voice of his, the hand slithering between your bodies stroking you just right, lighting those nerves up. He’s urging you to let go and you do, your body taut and then ragdoll limp as he pumps you full of his own release. You’re sticky, sweaty, pressed against him but you remain there, tucked now beside him, panting and spent and feeling better than you have in a long time.

You’ve nearly drifted off to sleep when you hear his voice again, or perhaps this is merely a dream, asking if you need a ride for the remainder of your journey.

You offer an affirmative answer, then inquire the last of your drowsy thoughts, asking if he might take the long way home.

You don’t hear an answer, already asleep. But that’s alright.

You can ask again in the morning.

[anzulvr]

୨୧ On Purpose Karma x (fem) Reader I| Chapter: 05 ୨୧

Prev || 05 Un? Fortunate || Next

⎯ "Just because you're a part of the student council doesn't mean you're allowed to get all cozy with Asano."  [Name] was sort of familiar with the student, a member of the fan club dedicated to the chairman's son, Asano Gakushu. 'It's way too early for this.' 

They'd never talked, but that didn't mean she hadn't had this same conversation with other people. It was as if his fan club had a precedent of hating [Name] before admitting members.

"I really don't know what you're talking about, but I can assure you there's nothing going on between-" The girl kept walking, harshly brushing her shoulder on [Name] in the process. She could barely get a word in.

It really wasn't like that. There was no reason for anyone to believe so, sure, she wasn't exactly out in the open about it but she was in a relationship. She isn't the type to mess with other guys behind Karma's back. She guessed it was the result of being the only girl on the council. They overanalyzed her every little step.

"If you want to be in the same class so badly just start failing until they throw you down with me."  Those were Karma's words from a few days ago, and [Name] was starting to consider them.

She couldn't decide if it was worth it or not. She was on top of her academics and as annoying as they were, spending so much time around the council meant the members grew on her.

'I need  something to drink...'

Out where the vending machines were she saw a familiar face, his blue hair tied up in pigtails. It had been so long since [Name] talked to Nagisa. As she was about to say hi, she noticed the green-haired girl who had been with him at the café. Her name was Kayano if she remembered correctly.

She didn't want to be rude and interrupt, that was the excuse she was going with. In full honesty, she was curious as to what Nagisa was doing with a girl, listening in for a bit wouldn't hurt.

"Explosives, guns, knives. I'm starting to doubt it's even possible to kill him." They were hovered over a notebook as if they were trying to solve a thousand-piece puzzle.

Some kind of game? That's what [Name] was wondering.

"but your notes are great, it's cool you're so observant Nagisa... what were we here for again?"

"Karma's strawberry milk."

"Yeah... He's a bit addicted don't you think?"

"Not as bad as your pudding thing... uh, hold on."

With instincts like Nagisas, he picked up on an uncounted-for presence. He shot Kayano a look, instructing her to quiet down with his eyes.

"[Name?]"

"Hey Nagisa! Sorry, I didn't mean to eavesdrop but you were busy."

"It's okay, How have you been?" He smiled warmly, internally he was praying you didn't hear anything strange.

"I'm good! I've missed you a lot, we haven't talked in forever!"

"We should hang out one of these days! Oh, I should introduce you, Kayano this is [Name], [Name] Kayano." He gestures between the both girls.

"Nice to meet you." Kayano shakes her hand.

"Why are there two types of strawberry milk here? Kayano, do you remember which one he gets?" asks Nagisa.

"No, just take a guess."

[Name] types on the vending machine's number pad. "He likes both but prefers this one, They taste the same to me though." She shrugs and almost hands the milk box to Nagisa, but she pulls back out of his reach at the last second.

"Can I go with you? I'll drop you off at your class!"

Nagisa smiles "That would be fun but you have your own class to get to."

"It's fine! I usually worried about skipping but only for a little won't hurt."

Nagisa is hesitant when he says "You'll face harsher consequences since you're in council." He didn't want her to feel rejected but if they walked together there was a pretty good chance she'd catch sight of Korosensei.

"The opposite actually, I get away with way more by being in council. It works out! Let's go I wanna see Karma."

Kayano yanks the milk from [Names] grasp. It's very abrupt and leaves an uncomfortable feeling in everyone. [Name] feels embarrassed, she's internally hoping they can't see it on her face. The feel becomes uncomfortable for a second, Kayano looks down not meeting [Names] eyes.

In an attempt to fix things [Name] apologizes, "Sorry, I get the hint, see you Nagisa." She smiles trying not to let things get more uncomfortable for anyone. They probably want to be alone.

"It's not like that! We'd like you to come but we'd get in a lot of trouble if anyone saw you with us, over the weekend we should meet up."

"Alright, we can do that." They wave goodbye to each other.

⊹₊ ⋆ Time skip ୨୧ ⊹₊ ⋆

"If you want to be in the same class so badly just start failing until they throw you down with me." [Name] and Karma were lying on his bedroom's wooden floor, staring up at the ceiling as they talked about whatever topic bubbled up on their minds.

"Hey Karma, do you really think I should drop down to E class?"

He looks at her curiously "What's got you thinking of that?"

"I was thinking of what you said the other day, maybe that is the only way we can be together."

"You don't have to sacrifice your grades for a few more hours with me, clinger."

"I wasn't gonna, it would take too long to get me to fail everything! Remind me why they decided to put you in that class again?"

"I broke a guy's arm." He says with not a second thought.

[Name] sighs "I can't do that..."

"I could do it for you, and you can take allll the credit. I got ways to make 'em play along!" If it were anyone else talking about this with so much excitement [Name] would question their mental state, but it's Karma.

"That's not what I meant... but thanks for having my back!"

Karmas is not sure about this, He knows [Names] fears and she's got lots of them. Spiders, thunder, heights, and much more, He questions if her heart could handle seeing a three-meter-tall octopus who might be the reason the world ends. Ultimately Karma decides to indulge in it, it would be nice having her around, on top of that she'd get along with his friends and definitely like the teachers more.

He thinks back to all the other stuff he pulled, none of which worked out but trying again wouldn't hurt, at least not him.

"You can try pulling pranks but it wasn't that effective for me."

"Help me think of something?"

"I wouldn't let you do it without me."

For now there was nothing to worry about, no one to distract them from one another, just the two of them.

note: sorry for still taking so long on request :,( I’m trying to balance the post of request and On Purpose, Ive also been reallll busy. Does anyone actuallyyyyy read this fic?? the updates are kinda just setting everything up rn, more Karma soon!

[igglemouse]

It's hitting me today that Love day passed without much romance. Without any romance, actually. While my first season here in Oasis Springs has been a financial success, more than I could even imagine. My social life has been a roller coaster. One with twists, turns, rises, and dips.

I've met a few friends and that's not to be taken for granted, but when it came to romance I'm not really quite sure what to make of my life here so far. There's Pascal, of course, but I'm sure not sure where things are with him. We are a couple but it doesn't really feel like it?

I dig into my apple bacon pancakes, letting the sweetness of syrup mingle with the sour sweet of apple and allowing myself to get lost in flavors for just a moment...

I don't have anything planned for the morning so naturally I find myself settled into my cheap couch and in front of my slightly less cheap TV.

I wasn't exactly sure what to watch so I stumbled upon the first thing that interested me, a cooking show, and just let it play as background noise as I fiddled on my phone.

This is just the kind of day where I'll wander through it aimless and accept whatever it places before me. It's the last day of Spring too so maybe something interesting will pop up?

Or someone interesting will pop up? That's Daniella isn't it? I think I've met her once before? Either way, she's eagerly knocking at my door...

My curiosity invites her inside and right away she's off, thankfully she's a Selvadoradian speaker so our conversation flows nicely. She warms me up with small talk at first, the weather, local news, and then suddenly jumps into what she's really here for. Love Day, or rather talking about the Love day that I celebrated with my amigas and not that romantic interest of mines. She flat out asks if I'm single even.

"There is someone," is what I tell her and I stop before saying more because why does she want to know? Why is everyone so interested in my love life? Maybe my food stand has turned me into a minor celebrity here or maybe my ego is growing a little too much?

"Oh? You're not single?" there is a suggestion of disappointment in her tone. I'm not sure what to make of it.

"Umm, well," I don't even see Pascal that much. "It's complicated? He's a busy man-"

"Perfect!"

"Huh?"

"Well," she hesitates just a little as if she's holding back a secret. "It's a club I'm part of," she reveals, which is vague enough to mean nothing to me and so I sit and wait for her to explain. "An exclusive and invite only club."

"Ok?"

"You don't have to be single," she corrects. "It just helps if you are, that's why I asked."

"Ok..." again, I'm confused and that confusion is enough to turn me off of whatever she's trying to sell to me. "I'm not sure if I'll have much time for clubs-"

"I can show you on Monday, you don't have to join, but you should know what you're turning down, right?" I don't reply because the urgency she has in her recruitment worries me. "Look, it's nothing serious, just think about it, okay?"

"Umm, yeah, sure," but I think we both know that my answer is no.

What an odd conversation, one that has me ready to dive right back into my cooking and try something new for my stand. Spanish omelets! I believe I've mentioned that I always want to present new options to my customers, something fresh every week. I want to show my versatility and flexibility when it comes to my culinary skills because I don't want to be known for one thing and I also want to challenge myself.

Sadly, I did not see many customers today. Strange, very strange, and I'm not sure what to make of it because as I've mentioned my food stand has been such a roaring success that seeing a sudden dip in interest is odd.

Could just be coincidence. Summer is almost here so maybe that has something to do with it? The coming heat might be a factor and perhaps I should have ice cream at the ready?

For now, I'll consider it just a bad day. I'll worry when when it becomes a pattern.

But...It's hard not to dwell on it because it simply doesn't feel right. Nothing changed but the date so what else could it be?

Ok, ok, I WON'T dwell on it. Instead, I find some time cleaning because I could begin to smell, and see, the dust that had begin to collect and I'm not someone that keeps a dirty home.

The day moves on which meant it was time to visit Pascal. He sent me a message letting me know that he was at home and with little to do so why not head over? I worried that he wasn't too interested in me so his open invitation was just what I needed and honestly I had nothing else to do today so why not?

After letting me in I could hear the audio of a game in the background, loud enough that it almost drowns out his greeting.

"I like to feel like I'm there on the field even when I'm watching," he says with a smirk, that little curl of his lips always gets me. Everything about him always gets me, if I'm being honest, I just wished there was more time for us.

Either way, we head to his couch. It's about what I expected, fitting in with the rest of the room although none of this place felt like it belonged to him. Perhaps he hired someone to decorate it or maybe he just bought it as is?

We have more important things to talk about than home deco, thankfully, and that's each other. He's asking me in a cheeky little way what I look for in a man. I should have said someone like him, someone well put together, someone sharp, someone that feels familiar to me the day I meet them, but instead I give him a very default answer.

"I think I just know, it's a gut feeling? You know when you know?"

"And do you get that feeling around me?"

I pause for a moment before answering. "I get a good feeling around you," I say, smothering the 'hell yes' that might have burst from my lips had I not paused before answering. I mean, he's hot, I think you all know how I feel about that, and I feel like Sara has the right of him. He's dedicated to his craft, maybe overly so, but I'm not sure that's a bad thing? While Simon presents a more wild kind of life Pascal is one of stability and honestly? After what I've been through? Stability is a necessity for me.

"What do you look for?" I return the question before he can ask another because I can almost taste the curiosity he has for me. "I'm sure you have your preferences.."

"Is it so wrong to say that I want someone to be there, by my side, supporting me?"

"N-no? Why would that be a bad thing?"

"Don't know," he shrugs. "I want a teammate, someone that is there for me as much as I plan to be there for them. It's like when you are in transition and the other team is pushing the attack. Sometimes you have to trust that your teammates will be there for you, that your defensive line will be-"

"Pascal, I've watched futbol like two times in my life, I have no idea what you're talking about," I say with a laugh and that gets a good laugh out of him as well.

"You know, I love that about you. Most women are into me because they know one day I'll be a big star...but you know, I'm going to start making you watch the games so that you can understand my analogies."

"Make me watch huh? How does that work?"

He scoots a little closer to me, close enough that our bodies meet, shoulder against shoulder, and the desire in his eyes for something more is clear.

"I don't know, just with some convincing?"

I think he just might pull it off with me because before I know it I'm in his lap and enjoying the position. Just like last time, the feel of his lips on mine are welcoming. The kiss between us is natural and easy and I guess you can tell that things get very touchy feeling after a few more kisses...

(XXX - Full Scene Here, Nudity, Sex - XXX)

I'm really not sure what to say about my time with Pascal other than, well, I'll happily be staying over for the night. I will say too, more time passed than expected, me wanting more was perhaps being greedy but I shouldn’t be surprised that he has a lot of stamina, huh? 

Anyways! It's a little too late to go home and I won't bother him by having him take me home and I don't mind sharing a bed for the night after my shower.

But before I can curl into the bed with him and call it a very successful day Sara links me a video of someone, some guy named Ray, ripping into my food stand.

So that explains why people were avoiding it today...

Episode List - Next

[inkyvendingmachine]

Avedone With All of This Season 4, Episode 4

💀 Call of Cthulhu: Haunted Hijinx Masterpost 💀 Call of Cthulhu Season Four Masterpost (Coming Soon)

Warning: This campaign is an edited version of  a Call of Cthulhu scenario from the Tales of the Crescent City book. While a lot has been changed, there IS spoilers for it throughout these posts.

GUESS WHO FINALLY SHOWED UP!!! and also a lot of other stuff happened. I'm sorry, this one is very long because I didn't take notes, and struggle to leave out details when I'm writing from the records instead of the notes.

Art Credit: @inkdemonapologist : sketching + inking @inkyvendingmachine : concept + colouring

Somehow Jack’s car, with all its original passengers and no extras, manage to make it back to the studio. Joey immediately rushes into the studio, to go rant at Bendy about everything that happened… and possibly to go fuse with Bendy because he feels utterly helpless now after completely draining himself with panicked magic. 

But it’s probably just the first one.

Sammy and Henry arrive as well to find Jack and Peter quietly picking glass out of his broken car in something like shock. Upon getting no responses from Jack about what happened, Sammy storms off to find Joey.

Joey is all too happy to start his entire rant over again for Sammy as he works on fusing with Bendy. They were just following Peter’s leads and driving from location to location and then all of the sudden this ASSHOLE shows up out of nowhere and just stands in front of the car. Busts the car, terrifies poor Jack, and then on top of that tries to break INTO the car and abduct Peter?? It’s a good thing Joey managed to blast him out, but they weren’t even DOING ANYTHING that would have possibly summoned him NOTHING AT ALL... And on top of all that, being an absolute PRICK as he’s doing it! 

… Anyways, how was the moooob?

Sammy updates Joey on everything that happened with Johnny Nero, which is pretty much just that he had seen the Yellow sign, that Henry removed it, and that Nero was pretty intent on getting his hands on whatever the Phantom wants first. Which like… yeah, if you wanna solve all our problems and fix this mess, go ahead! But Joey’s pretty sure that’s not going to happen, so he goes back to working on his ritual.

Sammy leaves to go back to Jack, and right as Joey feels ready to start the ritual his phone rings. The special one. And it’s… Avedon??

Avedon immediately starts info dumping on Joey about everything that’s been going on already… like, all the information Joey already knows. A lot of flat “yeah?”s in reply as Avedon rambles on, until he mentions that it’s already gotten to Norman. Wait, what?? But Avedon doesn’t stop, telling Joey to meet him at his hotel room in NYC so they can go over more information. Before Joey manages to get any clarification, he hangs up. 

That’s Joey’s thing!!!

Joey is the one who hangs up on others!!!!!!!

Frustrated, Joey does try to call Norman, and… Yeah, Norman is talking in weird riddles and speech that doesn’t fit with the Normal Norman Vibes. That call is also ended with little information gained… but at least it DOES seem like Avedon knows what he’s talking about this time, so Joey’s willing to meet with him, even though he’s also feeling done with him already.

Joey finishes the ritual and merges with Bendy.

On his way downstairs, Sammy is still turning over the car event he just heard about… and the increasing evidence that Peter might actually be the Phantom’s target?? Why else would he be trying to drag him out of the car?

Sammy approaches Peter, who has since started exchanging information with Henry as they all get the last of the glass shards out of the car, and says that he wants to see if Prophet can tell anything about what happened. Sammy looks distracted for a moment, and [lack of surprise because it was actually somewhat communicated beforehand,] Prophet is here!

Prophet concentrates, and with no hesitation, mushes his hands all over Peter's face. 

The good news is that, while Prophet can tell that Peter’s been grabbed by the Phantom recently, that’s actually all that he can detect. No additional eldritch stuff, he’s not possessed, he’s not weirdly marked or damaged in a way that can’t normally be seen. Great!

But Prophet can’t tell if Peter is the target or not. For his part, Peter has been muttering that it seemed like the phantom was trying to pull information from Peter on someone else he was looking for, someone who “followed us out”, but there’s nothing Prophet can sense to confirm that… but he realizes he can sense the distortions to reality increasing throughout NYC. They’re in the air, moving about… getting stronger.

Henry can feel it too.

But that’s all the energy Prophet has, and he unfortunately misses Joey showing up and dumping his new plan of action on everyone. He, Henry and Peter are going to go find Avedon’s dumb hotel room and figure out what’s going on with him, while Sammy and Jack are going to go check up on Susie and Norman because Norman is definitely acting weird now and he’s not quite sure if Susie is in over her head or not…

Nobody objects to the plan. And with NYC losing more and more of its reality to the yellow mist rolling in, it seems important that they do something.

Henry, Joey and Peter do make a detour to Henry’s house though to make sure all is well there. The car is gone, the lights are out, things seem as they should if Linda managed to follow through and get the kids out of the city. Peter is concerned when he notices some of Henry’s wards, but don’t worry, those are supposed to be there. Henry checks them over, and they all seem good. Bendy finds a bucket of clay he and Henry's kids had played with before, and brings it along to entertain himself on any following sleepovers, since that is a thing that will probably keep happening. For once, it seems like everything is actually left alone? 

Until they look out back and find the treehouse Henry built for his kids is gone. Actually, it’s almost like all the landscaping and such in the area was just… cleared away? Or never happened. Joey meanwhile is tabbing through Henry's photo albums and makes sure everyone is still there, which they are. But the treehouse isn’t. And, perhaps even worse, there’s also an extra guy in the JDS staff photo now? Joey pockets it, since this guy seems to be in the music department according to the photo, but Joey is sure he’s never seen him before. And it’s not Alan. So. Hopefully the music boys can shed some light on this.

Henry grabs some supplies and his gun, and Joey turns him around to fix his outfit and make sure the gun is properly hidden. Avedon is 2 trigger happy, we don’t want to say our hellos by instantly showing off the weapons we brought.

Meanwhile Jack and Sammy’s drive to Norman’s is more fraught than the previous ones. Not only has he moved house again, (though at least this time they have evidence of his new address from the junk mail they took last time) but… many other roads are starting to move too. Also Sammy is driving, so, speed has been cut in the engine department too… don’t need to hit two things in a single day with all this mist building up, and any sort of navigation trouble puts even more delays in.

At least they do manage to find the place and head on in, with hope that also maybe now that Avedon has arrived Norman will stop being so “sticking it out in a house that keeps wandering off apparently.” Things seem kinda fine at first at least, like they’re not immediately shooed out or attacked or have any weird monsters hanging over the house waiting for them to try the door… But upon Sammy questioning Susie while Jack goes to find Norman in the back, the music boys find out that things are very much not fine.

Susie is… very confident with a knife all of a sudden, and very confident that she will be able to just stab the Phantom when given the word to go out and hunt him down. Y’know just… stab the guy who couldn’t be damaged by a 2 ton vehicle slamming square on into him. And when Sammy tries to argue this logic, it just becomes more and more obvious that Susie and Norman are both… in character. Susie’s speech cadence is even reminiscent of when she’s performing rather than talking normally. But they don't seem aware that their actions seem more scripted than decided.

Jack finds Norman in the back, with a hatchet and a very similar plan to Susie’s. But whatever is happening isn’t strong enough to make them completely forget themselves, and with some facts being pointed out and reminders of who they are, the boys manage to get these two actors back to themselves... kind of. There's still some weirdness going on, and this also doesn't answer the question of what could be done to prevent this happening again?

Neither Susie nor Norman really realized when it started to happen, and it took some serious outside convincing to snap them out of it at all… Do they need Henry to expel something to truly get back to themselves again??

ALSO, IF THE PHANTOM CAN’T BE HARMED WITH A CAR, WHAT ARE THEY GONNA DO ABOUT THAT TOO?? THAT SEEMS CONCERNING!!!!

Meanwhile, Henry parks near the hotel they were directed to by Avedon, and the trio look upon it in… concern. First of all, it doesn’t even look like a hotel, or look like it belongs in NYC. And the entire place is surrounded by a yellow mist… and while they could wait it out or try to somehow call Avedon and tell him to come out, it just feels like the longer they wait the worse it will get. 

Really, it’s starting to feel that way for a lot of things.

But even though everything about this feels bad, they press on and enter the “hotel”. What should be the hotel lobby is abnormally empty, and when they start up the stairs… well, that’s not normal either, the stairs just keep going. Joey is flipping any rugs he finds though to make sure they don’t have stupid destabilization spells underneath them.

After a few rounds of strange rooms, weird hallways, some alien screeching outside the windows, and Henry noticing that NYC is not the city outside said windows, he stops everyone out of worry that they’re walking into a trap… and Joey agrees. But not that this hotel is specifically a trap.

All of New York is a trap.

It doesn’t matter where they go next, the longer they don’t solve this issue, the more of a trap everything will be.

They just gotta press on.

…

Aaaaand start yelling for Avedon because clearly they aren’t gonna be just walking up to his hotel room at this point.

Good news! Avedon replies! Bad news!! Only Henry can hear it for some reason!! And… Avedon can hear Joey but not Henry?? 

It’s all very confusing. They find Henry’s reading glasses on a table. Those were in his pocket how did they get there excuse me. All of this isn't fine actually.

But after a few rounds of Avedon Polo, they finally stumble across each other in a… garden. In the middle of a hotel. And of course, the first thing Avedon says is that they need to leave immediately. He didn’t know it was going to be like THIS, he just stepped out to get a coffee and suddenly the whole place is weird??? Well, now that they’re here, time to immediately leave because YEAH THAT WAS THE PLAN FROM THE START. 

Going through another door leads out into a familiar courtyard, at least familiar to Joey. He had been here a few nights ago, while invading Y’s dream, and indeed, right where he’d expect, he finds the Y twins chatting amongst themselves. Marching up to them, Joey demands to know what they’re doing and what’s going on.

They respond by addressing him as royalty.

✧･ﾟ: *Joey Drew, as Your Highness･ﾟ: *✧

Normally, this would probably inflate Joey’s ego! Currently, it sinks like a stone into his stomach!! He does not want to be part of the play!!!

Unless…

Joey suddenly wonders, because it’s the same courtyard, if they are in a dreamscape of some sort… Does he appear different than himself… and that's why they're addressing him this way?

But no, he looks like Joey, and Henry looks like Henry, and Peter looks like Peter, and Avedon is still here… except Joey also notices some of their hands are starting to turn transparent…………. That's probably fine.

He still doesn’t want to be part of their play.

The Y twins try to get Joey to go somewhere with them, and he makes up a story why they need to not do that rn, so that the group of normal fading humans can attempt once again to leave this place. 

Since it's all weird here, Joey tries his little will-what-he-wants-into-reality trick and… well it doesn't work. Instead, he finds a throne room?? and realizes that they aren’t just in Carcosa, they’re in the castle where the Yellow King’s play takes place. And Joey manages to follow his intuition from here to find some kind of portrait hallway, covered with familiar faces… all labeled as characters from the play. Not recognizing all of them, Henry starts drawing them so we have a record of it later.

But there's a few he doesn't have to draw.

One is Alan Leroy, the guy that they're becoming sure is the target of the Pallid Mask. Part of the royal family, apparently. He's a slender man, black hair slicked back, young looking, quite pretty … kinda looks like Joey…

Which makes more sense perhaps when the portrait of the eldest son in the royal family is none other than Joey himself. Guess this is why he was being addressed as royalty… but that means the Y twins are not quite in their right minds, and anything he finds them doing here is probably just play nonsense.

Also Denis is the youngest prince but who cares about that guy.

What they DO care about is the fact they’re getting more and more transparent, so the boys go to find Avedon, who is oh so helpfully knocking shit over and muttering in french, and Joey manages to get his door trick to actually work this time; he opens the door and there’s…

STAIRS!!

Everyone starts running down them, managing not to get turned around when they start making twisty turns, and get to the front door of this stupid castle in a hotel lobby.

They peek outside.

Sure enough, on the side of the building, there’s a shadow shaped suspiciously like nothing they can really identify, so it must be some sort of angel monster or something.

At this point, there’s really only one option they have: try sneaking to the car and hope it’s looking the other way, and if not, run!

Everyone agrees that this is a great plan.

And then they do that.

There’s a bit of fumbling in the middle, but the car was parked outside of the yellow mist for once, so the creature just fades out as soon as it leaves the mist to chase them. 

Well! Okay then!! That problem is solved!! Let’s go deliver Avedon to Norman so that he can take responsibility for his mad man and then maybe stop hiding at home or something!

Henry drives off, and things seem fine for now…

Until Joey swivels around in the front seat to question Avedon, and out the back window, sees something flying after them, only visible whenever it passes through the mists…

Problem… not solved.

[tititilani]

Am I writing arguably my first thing in like two years for DBDA? Maybe. Do I even think it's any good? No. Do I particularly care? Also no.

This idea just wouldn't leave me alone so I banged it out in like three hours. Also fun fact, I wrote this partially by candelight because my power went out. Ambiance, anyone? I also posted this on my AO3 in case anyone wants to read this there instead. Just ignore any indiscrepancies in this, I just didn't care that much. <3

wash out the salt from my hands. 1.5 words.

Time moves differently than it does on Earth, as it turns out. Mostly pre-relationship Paineland.

He doesn’t think much of it, at first.

Charles is too caught up in relief, too relieved to have Edwin back where he can keep him safe again, to think about the weird phrasing.

“For decades.” Edwin says with a quiet hitch to his voice, more vulnerable than Charles can ever remember seeing him. He looks stripped down and vulnerable now, without the stiff bowtie and uniform that Charles is so used to seeing him in. Tear tracks mark his cheeks, cutting through the grime that seems to cover every inch of the hell pit they’ve found themselves in.

Their reunion is marred by the gruesome sounds of the last Edwin being devoured at the other end of the room and Charles can’t look too closely at the pile of corpses without getting enraged. He’s already angry at how long it took him to locate Edwin, how many times he had had to go through this loop before Charles could rescue him, but he knows where his priority lies now.

He wants nothing more than to clutch Edwin to him, stitch them together so closely that nothing could ever pry them apart again. He knows it’s not feasible (he’s checked) but he would stitch himself into Edwin’s ribcage without hesitation if it meant Edwin never had to come down to this place again. He also knows that now is not the ideal time for a big reunion, which can come after they are both safe.

“Well, I’m here now, so,” he says, pulling out a lit bomb from his bag and watching the flames glint in the depths of his best mate’s gaze.

“I have been dead for over a hundred and thirty years, after all, of course I should be the bait.”

Edwin’s tone is reasonable even if what he just said is not and he blinks when Charles levels him with a weird look because of it. Something in Charles lurches uncomfortably at the idea that Edwin should be bait for anything again, let alone a hungry beast that seems to specifically eat ectoplasm, and he’s immediately distracted away from it.

“Mate, you are not being bait. We can figure something else out that doesn’t end in you possibly being eaten.”

It’s been some months now since Charles gave a metaphorical finger to hell and rescued the other ghost but the idea of Edwin intentionally being put back in danger still scrapes over nerves that are far too raw. The Edwardian may look as though he is back to his normal posh self, all stiff bowties and perfectly parted hair but he has seen Edward flinch at enough dolls in enough windows to know he is not completely back to normal. Them managing to get Niko back was like slotting a missing puzzle piece back into Edwin’s frame but Charles still knew that there were pieces that could probably never be found.

Edwin frowns at him, fussing with his bowtie in a rare tell. “Per my books, this creatures likes older ghosts for its course – who else can we use?”

Charles thinks on the new and improved cricket bat tucked away in his bag. “I’ve been dead thirty years – should be enough to get the thing’s attention, yeah?”

“Absolutely not!”

(For once, Charles wins an argument.)

The witch is giving him the creeps.

One of her two eyes is bulging out far enough Charles is kind of worried it’s just going to...pop out. He’d try to catch Edwin’s eye but his nose is too far buried in one of the tomes the witch had given them to notice the way said witch is fixated on Charles. She seems to be mostly harmless at least, or at least hasn’t tried anything to make him reach for his bag but the way she is staring at him still has him on edge.

“Your bones are so old now but you are older still,” she tells him in a croaky old voice finally like it’s some sage wisdom and Charles just...has no idea what he’s supposed to do with that. Those books better be so worth it.

“Pretty sure my bones and I are the same age, ta,” he tells her in a voice he really hopes hides how completely bananas he thinks she is. He thinks she’s absolutely around the bend but is trying to play nice to make sure Edwin gets to play in her bookstore as long as he wants to. He’d be willing to deal with a lot worst things if it means he gets to enjoy the little sparkle that new books always put in Edwin’s green eyes.

The bulging eye bulges even more and he leans back in his seat a tad just in case there’s suddenly a splash zone. “Souls are aged by realms traveled,” she says in an even more grave tone while somehow making even less sense at the same time. He has no idea where Edwin has disappeared to in the books stacked precariously around the store but Charles hopes he surfaces soon.

Preferably before an eye falls into his lap or something.

It’s a dark night and Edwin’s head is in his lap.

There are no open cases at the moment, no one in the office, and an abandoned game of Cluedo is on the table. As ghosts, their sense of touch is almost completely nonexistent but Charles still swears that he can feel every strand of Edwin’s hair as he runs his fingers through it. He’s trying to be as gentle as he can be because Edwin deserves every scrap of gentleness Charles can give.

Edwin’s eyes are closed and that little wrinkle that is so common between his eyebrows has been smoothed away into unlined skin by Charles’ thumb. He can’t be super comfortable, his long legs draped over the other arm of the couch, but he also doesn’t seem inclined to move. Ghosts don’t have the ability to sleep or Charles would think Edwin had dozed off against his thigh.

They had been talking a little bit ago but that had faded off and for once, Charles didn’t feel the need to break the silence just yet. He has Edwin close and comfortable and safe and he finds he doesn’t need much else at this moment.

“I did not think I could have this,” Edwin murmurs finally, his tone soft and wondering. He hasn’t opened his eyes yet, something Charles is momentarily grateful for. He knows that if Edwin looked up at him, moonlight in his emerald eyes, that there is nothing Charles wouldn’t do to give him anything. “A century in hell was almost worth it.”

Charles’ hand pauses. “A century?”

Maths was never his best subject in school but even he knows the difference between seventy years and a hundred years. The two of them are so tangled together on the couch that he can feel the moment tension returns to Edwin, tightening up his lanky frame and when he finally opens an eye to look up at him, he looks almost worried.

“I wasn’t sure at first,” he finally says, voice hushed in the darkness of their office. “But time moves differently in hell. This last time in Port Townsend was about a decade. My first...visit was closer to ninety, I think.”

Charles’ hand spasms at that, the only thing keeping him from clenching it is the fact he doesn’t want to even accidentally pull on Edwin’s hair, even if it wouldn’t be felt. Edwin deserves so much gentleness. The sheer magnitude of how much time he had spent down in hell, fruitlessly attempting to outrun its horror, would make Charles sick if he still had a stomach.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asks finally when his urge to scream has faded. After another moment, he resumes petting Edwin and almost against his will, the other boy’s eyes slide closed.

“I did not want you to know how long I was down there,” Edwin says in a low voice. “I thought you might be angry.”

“Never,” Charles says fiercely, voice almost too loud in the quiet of their room. “I would never have left you down there, even if it had taken me a thousand years.” He swallows back everything else he wants to say, like the fact Edwin spent so much longer than even a few hours being tormented by a spider-doll demon makes Charles wish he had another doorway and a molotov cocktail or twelve.

I would tear hell apart for you. I will never let you be taken again. I love you.

He thinks it’s an okay time to say it but it lodges in his throat. Charles wants it to be a perfect time, not just an okay time. He didn’t need forever to figure out how he feels about Edwin but he has forever to make it just right. It is the least Edwin deserves.

He looks back down at Edwin to see he is already looking back and he was right – the moonlight in his eyes makes Charles want to give him anything, everything.

[brightokyolights]

.

[sundial-bee-scribbles]

8 for the artist asks?

8. What's an old project idea that you've lost interest in?

oh man this is a hard one.

i don't necessarily keep track of that stuff, and my memory is abysmally bad too so i can't even exactly remember any in particular, but i know there's gotta be so so many

it depends too ig heavily on what it is?? there's some old original stories of mine that i scrapped almost in their entirety, though i know some concepts/characters i'd be willing to recycle for use in something else.

w/ fandom stuff ofc, i'm sure we've all seen authors/artists lose interest in something they were posting and stopped updating it, leaving it unfinished. i can't exactly blame them; as much as it might suck for the readers/viewers that were invested, it would suck even more for the original creator to be forced to do something they've lost all passion for.

some things stay forever but you move on from others, and it's not necessarily a tragedy despite the years of mourning endured

weirdly specific artist asks

[noxtivagus]

hmm

[universalsatan]

the mexican urge to adopt people…

[redxriiot]

Upon becoming a father, Ei would absolutely ensure he’s the most present parent possible for his kid(s). The worst possible thing in the world for him would be to miss something important of theirs ( milestones, school presentations, etc ); he would absolutely take it quite badly, even if the kid reassures him it’s okay/unavoidable.

[astrxealis]

it's pretty hard to find more like minded people who like ffxiv esp as a minor & in ph ;; but i know quite a few! not any in my country bcs :") but my twin & my 2 irls i got into it <3 so like. idk but maybe i cld make a discord q-q ( oh gods warning for tags. very long ,,, )