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orikiys · 5 months

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✿ ✿ 〞 comparing you to their ex

✰ pairings: ot8 skz x fem!reader

✰ genre: romance, lots of angst

✰ warnings: cussing, skz mentioning reader’s insecurities, skz being red flags, slight mentions of manipulative behaviour, hints at cheating but no cheating, mentions of breaking up ( ikk it’s a lot because i just can’t fathom the fact that it’s been nearly 3 months since i last wrote angst )

✰ word count: 2.6k+ words i will better myself

౨₊ৎ chan

“i don’t get you these days,” you scoff over the call as you remind yourself of the main reason why you even bothered in the first place to get him a tub of ice cream in hopes that when he arrives back home he can rest and dig in.

“there’s nothing to understand babe. i told you that i can’t come home today,” the words slip out of his mouth without hesitation and the tone so casual that it makes you stare at his caller id in disbelief.

“i thought you were in the car on your way home?” you mutter nervously.

“i lied. i didn’t want to worry you plus there’s too much work baby. can you please try and understand that, hmm?”

“this won’t work on me. you lied chan! why would you lie? you could’ve just told me and i wouldn’t have wasted my time setting the couch and deciding on movies and buying you ice creams!” you sigh deeply.

“see? this is why i lied. because i knew you would scream at me when it isn’t even my fault,” you remain silent after hearing his words and there’s still evident clicking of keyboard from the other side.

“why are you trying to put the blame on me? chan it’s fucking 2 am and this is not the first time i had to stay up waiting for you to get back just for you to not come home!”

“who told you to wait? sleep for all i care! at least my ex didn’t bother me like this,” he mumbles but it’s hard not to hear him when your ears are just waiting for any sort of apology, instead they are welcomed with this.

“wow, thank you for telling me your true feelings. make sure you go back to her,” there is sarcasm in your words, but it’s only meant to hide the real fact of how bad it hurt you and maybe he knows it or maybe he doesn’t.

“baby i–” you end the call and before you know it, the tears start to flow down your cheeks.

just when did things go so wrong?

౨₊ৎ minho

he knew how easy it was for you to be overwhelmed. it was unfortunately not that easy to comfort you since nothing would make you feel better. but minho was there. always. he would sit beside you for hours and talk endlessly until a word that escaped his mouth would lift the corner of your lips.

it always felt so much better when you had someone helping you deal with your problems. it reassured you that someone truly did have your back. you couldn’t be any more thankful for having met lee minho.

it had been a few hours since you had locked yourself in your room, call it childish but being alone helped you gather your thoughts. while you sat on the floor with your head in your hands, minho kept banging on the door impatiently.

“open the door! stop being so immature and just open the door!” he yells as he starts to bang harder making you flinch at the action. with a defeated sigh, you get up and unlock the door before coming face-to-face with a flush faced sweaty minho. he stares at you angrily and grabs your wrist a bit too tightly before doing a quick scan of your body for any signs of injuries.

“do you even know how worried i was? gosh how can you even be so careless? i don’t think that i’ve ever seen my ex act that way,” the last part of the sentence is quieter as he trails off when the realisation strikes him.

“say that again,” you say, as if daring him to repeat his words. he looks away before muttering.

“i’ve heated up food for you, go eat it.”

“stop trying to change the topic! i heard you mention her loud and clear,” he groans at your words and looks back at you.

“so what if you heard me? i didn’t mean it and you know it,” he mutters and tries to grab a hold of your hand but you slap his hand before it can touch yours.

“i don’t think so i know it anymore minho. where is the guy i fell in love with? he would think at least a thousand times before saying something as hurtful as this,” you chuckle bitterly and walk past him.

maybe eternally was just a word meant for the world of fiction.

౨₊ৎ changbin

as soon as changbin’s feet crossed the line of the entrance to the apartment, his brows furrowed upon witnessing the messiest house. the smell of stale vegetables made him scrunch his nose in disgust and he covered his mouth with his hand before trying to search for you.

there you were, scrubbing the glass table vigorously and he sighed, “seriously?”

“what?” you look up at him in confusion making him look away.

taking a deep breath he looks back at you, “can i not expect the house to be in safe hands for even a day?”

“binnie it’s not like that i just—“

“i don’t want to hear your excuses anymore! we divided the chores equally then why don’t you do your part properly? i wish my ex had been here,” he spats and before you know it he bumps his shoulder against yours before walking away. not one ounce of regret.

all you wish was to turn back the time.

౨₊ৎ hyunjin

“you’re being dramatic hyunjin. i’ll be fine, besides i have my friends with me,” you try to reassure him but he wouldn’t budge even an inch from his firm decision.

“ the one who flirts with you? that friend?” he scoffs as if you just said something ridiculous.

this wasn’t the first time where hyunjin acted as if his words were meant to be obeyed. but he did very much mind the fact that you trusted some guy over him. no matter how hard you explain, he just finds one or the other way to insult your friend.

“don’t say that! you don’t know him that’s why you say it.”

“ i don’t care! i have no interest in knowing anything about him. don’t you think you’re being a little too carefree around him? i know guys like him pretty well,” he mutters while glancing up at you.

“stop behaving like you know everything!” you yell and glare at him. the remaining patience left in you had all reached the saturation point.

“stop being so damn adamant! that guy is no good! he’s trying to steer us away, if my ex was here she’d choose me over him,” he confesses and you can feel your heart drop and that feeling of suffocation begins to engulf you.

“right now i’d choose him rather than choosing you,” you spat and look away without letting him speak any other word.

perhaps even love marriage no longer reminded you of the good choices.

౨₊ৎ han

“do you think any girlfriend would trust their boyfriend around his ex?” you spoke as you followed him around the apartment as he picked up his things and placed them in his backpack.

“i think yes,” he mutters and glances at you for a second before looking away.

“well i don’t! she’s a manipulator jisung, listen to me! stop believing her lies!” you plead trying to remind him how bad she was.

“babe, you’re clearly exaggerating the situation! she’s just my client and i have to attend to her for today,” he sighs exasperated and rubs his temples in frustration.

“jisung… look i know it’s for your work but tell me how and when did she become your client? because for as long as i know your ex used to be a hairstylist,” you try to convince him to believe you but he does not even give you a glance.

he just sits on the couch with his legs crossed and his left arm rubbing his temples, his eyes are shut and his face is lowered, so you can’t predict what he’s thinking right now.

“babe, she’s my client, that's all i know and all i care. if she wasn’t my ex i’m sure she wouldn’t be that insecure in this situation,” he snapped, annoyance written bold on his forehead as he stared at you. all you could do was bite your lower lip and try not to give in to your mind telling you to cry. you couldn’t be any weaker, could you? you shouldn’t cry on these small things, you try to convince yourself but the way his expression does not falter makes your heart ache a little more.

“wow jisung, you’re so cool for using my weaknesses against me,” you mumble and stare at him blankly. your sentence was formed as if it were a joke, but there wasn’t any smile on your face. he looked up at you expectantly, that you were finally going to let him go.

so you did.

you let him go for good.

౨₊ৎ felix

“why are you doing this?” you sigh as you watch him browse through his wardrobe.

“you’re guilty and you have no right to say that,” he scoffs and continues to search for something particular in his wardrobe.

“where’s my brown hoodie?” he questions, turning around to look at you expectantly. his eyebrows are raised and there’s not the familiar expression of playfulness in his eyes anymore.

you gulp and lean against the wall, trying not to portray that the situation was that serious, “i don’t know,” you shrug and look down at your nails.

“you don’t… know? are you being for real right now?” he snaps and your gaze switches to him.

“stop yelling, i’m standing right in front of you,” you warn him with a defiant look in your eyes.

“fine, sorry. will you please tell me where all my hoodies are?”

“they’re in my wardrobe,” you mumble and watch as his gaze hardens back again, which makes you internally groan. just why were the two of you fighting over this stupid matter?

“babe please! i’ve told you a hundred times that the brown one was my favourite and i don’t like anyone wearing it. if my ex was here she wouldn’t have done this,” he ran a hand through his hair growing frustrated that you both didn’t understand each other.

“look it’s just that i don’t like it when someone does what i clearly told them not to,” he sighs and presses his face in his hands and lets out a muffled groan.

a minute of silence was all that was heard before you took your cue to speak, “it’s just a hoodie lixie, you didn’t have to take it this far,’’ the tears came as quickly as they fell. you had grabbed your coat and bag, heading for the door. you didn't think anything else could hurt you. but you were wrong.

he just stared down at the floor unmoving, he had no clue what to do anymore. all the time he spent courting you, all the flowers he brought you, were they nothing?

౨₊ৎ seungmin

“um, miss? the restaurant will be closing soon, we’re so sorry. would you like us to book you a cab?” you glance up at the waiter and shook your head with a tight smile on your face before heading out.

the night was surely chilly, but you didn’t care. at least not when you dolled up just for kim seungmin to not show up. it was supposed to be a dinner date with just the two of you as it was your third anniversary. three years of the two of you dating. three beautiful years… coming to an end?

you were tired. tired of constantly checking on seungmin just for him to hand up on you. tired of constantly worrying when he’ll come home just for him to say sorry everyday. tired of being played by his lies and broken promises. you were extremely tired and torn apart.

“babe-!” seungmin panted as he jogged up to you, the sight breaking your heart even more. it would’ve been better if he didn’t come looking for you. maybe then your heart wouldn’t hurt to say no to him next time.

“i’m sorry! i came here as soon as i got done,” he huffed and you threw him a quick glance. judging from the way he is breathing heavily he really did.

“clearly,” you mumble and look away, not giving in to him this time.

“baby, my boss held me back. you know how he acts during the end of the month, right?”

“no i don’t. and seungmin stop making excuses. if you wanted to, you could’ve told him or at least informed me? i was sitting in the restaurant for 3 hours looking like a total joke! do you enjoy this? enjoy making me suffer?” you yell and shrug his hand that was on your shoulder.

“don’t be like that, come on. i said i’m sorry. forgive me please?” he mutters and smiles a bit, in hopes you would say yes.

“i’m done with this,” you retort and begin to walk away but halt upon hearing him.

“dammit! i’m a grown ass man and i have a job that pays me! the same job that lets us eat! it’s just one date we can reschedule it next month as well! why do you have to be so stubborn all times? my ex would have more understanding in this situation,” he scoffs and you turn your head to stare at him with bloodshot red eyes.

“why did you have to make me fall in love with you?”

౨₊ৎ jeongin

there’s a soft smile plastered on your face as you knock on the door to jeongin’s dorm along with his members. the two of you had been dating for just over a year now and things were going pretty smoothly.

the door opens and you’re welcomed by felix’s wide grin as he pulls you in, “hey! you’re here!” you nod and give into his enthusiasm before looking around.

“jeongin’s inside,” felix chuckles when he notices you glance around the house, “what are you waiting for? you can go,” you smile sheepishly at his words and glance at the small bag food that you held in your hands before knocking on his door.

jeongin opens the door and you smile up at him but your smile falters when there’s no signs of happiness in his eyes. he just looks tired.

“why are you here?” he questions with eyebrows furrowed as he glances at the box in your hand and then back to you.

“i thought since you didn’t have lunch maybe we can have it together,” you mutter and lift the bag and show it to him but all he does is look at it blankly before scoffing.

“i told you i wanted to be alone!” he whisper yells and glances around the house. with a reluctant sigh he pulls you in the room and closes the door.

“jeongin… i wanted to be there for you baby,” you mumble and still try to muster a smile.

“well i didn’t want that! do you ever listen to anyone except you? i see you everyday! every single day! what else do you want from me? can’t i spend a day without you clinging around? i wish i never broke up with my ex,” he glares accusingly at you and you clutch the bag in your hands tighter as if it would decrease the pain.

“thanks for telling me i guess. at least i’ll know now whether you were faking it or not,” you head for the door before he can say anything.

“i’m sorry–” his words are cut when you leave the room and fling the door close in anger.

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chronically-ghosted · 2 months

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i'm swingin' blind and you're stunning me without any gloves

rating: E for Explicit! 18+

word count: 9K

pairing: dieter bravo x f!reader

summary: the night continues while the two of you dance around the inevitable. dieter's restraint is foiled by dreams of a water bed.

warnings/tags: depictions of drugs, age gap, cum eating, piv sex, not actually incest but close, concerns about getting old, reader is at least 18 (by how much is up to you), no use of y/n, oral (f receiving), hand jobs (m & f receiving), unprotected piv, squirting, the barest hint of overstimulation, oh and SMUT.

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“Do all movie stars have six empty bedrooms they don’t use?”

“They’re not always empty . . . I mean, it’s good for parties. Gives people space to get out of the chaos if they want, or if they need a place to crash. Keeps the energy, uh, flowing. Keeps the vibes good.”

He uses the joint to take the place of having to explain that the room you just passed was in fact used as a revolving door for anyone who wanted a bump only two weeks ago. The second floor stretches out into the darkness, the nasty weather outside beating against the windows. He keeps a slow steady pace, the high making his insides comfortably warm as you wander in and out of rooms, like a less frantic, totally-fuckable version of that Scooby Doo gag. He’s quite sure he’ll never be able to watch Saturday morning cartoons the same way.

So far, you’ve been content with asking rather inane questions, filler questions that he suspects you’re hoping reveal more than he’s giving. The response to the question being more important than the answer itself.

So no one lives in these rooms? No.

Do you ever use these as anything else other than bedrooms? No.

What’s outside by the pool? A gym.

A gym with full length mirrors that he used to adore snapping selfies in, in his younger cop show days, and without much prompting, would admit to masterbating to on occasion.

You’ll always be your own greatest critic so fuck ‘em.

You come out of the last bedroom, smirking faintly as though someone had told you a particularly naughty secret, humming faintly to yourself. He never much cared for giving tours but given that you walked ahead of him and gave him adequate time to ogle the backs of your thighs, he could think of worse ways to spend time with you.

“Mhm hmm,” you mutter to no one in particular. The carpet is plush, but that is the only thing you could say you really enjoyed about the style of the house. Everything else, especially the almost clinically clean air to it, makes it feel like a hotel, as if Dieter is mold growing in someone else’s house. Again, these are filed as things that helped fill out the picture of the man your uncle had become, if not the man he wanted to portray.

“So where do you sleep?”

He had been lulled into such a stupor of quiet fantasy fueled by his warm high that he didn’t even think twice when he pointed down the hall.

“God, it just keeps going, doesn’t it?”

Turns out the path to moral degradation isn’t a straight line, but a curved slope. One he finds himself on, going down round and round and round, the longer he watches your legs, the curve of your ass, the bright smile as you quite obviously tried to get a glimpse of the old Dee. But that's the thing about drugs that he finds he so actively craved – of course there is the euphoria, the chemical sensations, the wires of your brain plugged into different outlets and restarting the whole system. But he's found that’s when people tended to be their most honest, most unpolished and they weren’t afraid to be like that.

There was a lot of talk around the ego and the ID in his early acting classes. Who was your character when their ego had been pulled back like strips of skin?

But as he got older, the question he became more obsessed with was, who were the people around him when they weren’t being paid to like him?

You, of course, are different from all that. You hadn’t built up an ego quite yet. You hadn’t built up the mechanisms required to survive the world because you hadn’t needed to. Sure, you could deflect and get what you wanted by batting your eyelashes, but there are times he felt ugly in the skin he had built. Like somewhere along the way, he had tried on all these hats and now they had all attached themselves to his head and he couldn’t tear them off if he tried. His costume didn’t fit– his face wasn’t even visible any more.

And who exactly had spent the last fifteen minutes trailing after his beautiful, carefree niece, a single breath away from getting so hard it hurt, in this massively empty mansion? What version of himself wants to snake a hand into those shorts and effectively ruin you for anyone else – wanted to grip you so hard there’d be bruises and tears in your eyes when you came?

Which one of them is he willing to show you?

All of them. None of him. The ID.

You glance over your shoulder, curious that he hadn’t answered you.

“Yeah,” he sighs, smoking between his two fingers again. “Could get lost in a place like this.”

You pause in your inspection, eyes soft because of the drugs or the low lighting or something else, and take his hand. “Lucky I’ve got you then.”

His mouth is instantly dry in a way that has nothing to do with the weed. He offers you the joint and you smoke too, eyelids drooping, allowing him another second of looking.

And then another smile breaks across your face.

“Fuck,” your laugh turns into a cough. “Did you ever get that stupid fucking waterbed you wouldn’t shut up about? I remember you swearing the first thing you’d buy when you were rich and famous was a waterbed – which I thought was so fucking cool because I’d never heard of a waterbed before because I was seven and it sounded like something totally made up — so of course, someone rich and famous could have one.”

You’re still holding hands, your palm dry and warm, when he laughs too. He takes the joint back from you, eyes narrowing as he looks at you out of the corner of his eyes.

Turns out moral degradation is a fucking cannon ball.

“Why don’t you go see for yourself?”

You squeeze his hand, eyes bright, before almost sprinting down the hall to the room on the right. He follows you, struck by the notion this is the first and last time you’ll ever enter his bedroom. This has to be the end of something.

He hears a grunt and a groan and he can’t help but smile. He saunters into the room, leaning up against the door frame with his hands in the pockets of his robe. You are face down on the mattress, hands under your chest.

“This is not a water bed,” you grumble, the sound muffled.

Once again, Maria deserved a raise just for making his bed.

“No, it’s not,” he says slowly, as he edges a teasing tone into his next words. “Look, I did get a fucking water bed, alright? Just about a century ago when they were still a thing.”

You ease up onto your elbows and glare at him. “Can’t believe you got rid of it. What a waste.”

And then you’re sliding back onto your knees, hands planted on the covers, and for just a second, he swears he can see the outline of your cunt through the material that could hardly be called shorts.

His knees actually buckle for a second before he stands up right and physically has to close his eyes. Looking away wouldn’t have been enough.

But you don’t see all of this. You’re frowning down, as if glaring hard enough will bypass physics and liquidate the mattress.

“What happened to it? The water bed, I mean.”

Just as he’s gotten his heart rate back under control, your question throws everything into a spiral again.

Do not fucking tell her about the hookers and the brass pasties. Or the cock ring. Definitely do not mention the cock ring.

“It, uh, popped.”

You smirk over your shoulder. “It was a sex thing, wasn’t it?”

The question lingers, Dieter unable to make a coherent word that didn’t sound like take your pants off right fucking now, so he swallows and shakes his head. By some minor miracle, you shrug and don’t push it, sliding off the bed and completing your assessment of his life by regarding the book collection against the opposite wall.

It’s bigger than you expect someone like Dieter to have, but its placement in the house – almost hidden in his private bedroom – suggests that its volume is not there to impress. It’s his personal collection and, judging by the bent spines, books he’s actually read, perhaps several times. There’s a small desk next to it, crouching in the corner and littered with sheets of paper that look like they were torn from a sketchbook.

He couldn’t decide which version of himself he wanted you to see less: Dieter, full of vices, or Dieter, bratty actor who only acted in the first place because he couldn’t cut it as a real artist.

Your hands run over the sketches, eyes annoyingly unreadable, and just as he’s about to leap forward and scoop all of the sketches into the trash, you move on. Your interest is caught by some of the books. You make noises that are both outside of the realm of approval or disgust and he finds himself nervous. Book reading is about the last thing on anyone’s mind once they’ve reached the final destination of The Bedroom, so he’s never worried about what someone might think. But this isn’t just someone, it’s you.

His mouth opens to make some quippy remark, when you gasp and lunge forward, grabbing something at the back of the shelf.

“Holy shit, that’s you!”

You hold up a picture of his high school’s production of Othello and there he is fifteen and smack dab in the middle of the cast.

“Oh fuck, I forgot that was there,” he groans, dropping the nearly gone joint into an ashtray by the side of the bed. You’re practically glowing with excitement and he rolls his eyes as he takes it from you.

“Jesus Christ, look at that kid. Has no idea what kind of dumbass he’s going to grow up to be.”

Three years after that photo was taken, he had left in the middle of the night for Hollywood. Of course, just as he had finished packing up his piece-of-shit Chevy, Enrico caught him. Exploded in his face and scolded him in his old man ways for leaving without saying nothing.

He kept this photo because it was the last thing that reminded him of home and yet so distant it didn’t hurt as bad any more.

“I think he did spectacular for himself,” you grin at him. “Who knew The Dieter Bravo was such a softie for the old days?”

He smirks at you, finally sick of you kicking his ass all night. There is a line between fucking you and out sassing you, one he could live with. You aren't fucking ready for that Dieter.

“No way,” he rubs the bottom of his lip with his thumb, artfully contemplative, and purposefully distractingly hot. “Just keep it around for the spank bank. Ms. Lemons was a babe.”

You narrow your eyes at him as he leans across you to put the photo back. “Oh yeah? I gave my first blow job in that blackbox.”

“No, you fucking didn’t.”

“Yes I did!”

“What was his name?”

“Jeremy.”

“Jeremy what?”

“Jeremy . . . Barnes.”

“Pssh, fake name, fake boyfriend, fake story.”

“He was real! I just . . . can’t remember his last name right now.”

“Blurs together with all the other guys you’ve blown, right?”

You bite the corner of your mouth, your smirk so tight he can almost picture your toes curling. Not that he’d dare break eye contact with you now. Now that he’s got you practically pinned to the bookshelf, photo forgotten and something that’s been slinking around for the past three hours finally rolling on its back and exposing its belly.

He knows The Look, he practically invented it, and he can’t quite remember why it’s not okay to get that from your niece and someone twenty years younger than him. Right now, the portion of his brain that can sort that’s fucked up and it’s not that hard to refrain from being a fucking creep is filled with smoke, a sort of hissing sound there that is not unlike a shaken soda begging for release.

And dear God does he want release. But he’s willing to edge it just a bit longer, scrape that muscle as gingerly as he can before touching it where it needs to be touched.

“I have no idea what you mean,” you say softly, meekly being cowed for the first time all night. Fuck, do you have to make it so easy?

“That’s right. You don’t. Because if it were any good, you’d remember it.”

He puts a hand above your shoulder to stop himself from sinking into you. Weed made the world feel plushy, moldable – and he just wants to lounge in the dip of your bottom lip. You look so different from the girl who showed up soaking wet at his front door.

Your breathing hitches the closer he comes, your eyes fluttering as you watch his fingers dig into the spines of the books.

“What’s his first name again, darling? Do you still remember that?”

You gasp, loudly, as if his itching fingers had finally sunk in between your legs, but you’re sliding away from him and pulling out something from the shelf. Something white and something he should have fucking hidden better.

“Oh my God, is this my senior yearbook?”

You’re wandering over to his bed, leaving Dieter reeling, his own spell so alarmingly effective he is caught beneath it too. It takes him a moment to blink as he realizes maybe this is where you reneg and decide you don’t want to fuck him after all.

“It’s not as weird as it sounds –,” he begins, heart in his throat, and hands safely in his pockets as he joins you near the bed. You still haven’t looked up as you flip through the glossy pages.

“Sure, sure.”

“Look, your dad sent it to me and I didn’t even open it,” he says honestly. The package was delivered on the Tuesday afternoon when he woke up so hungover he actually thought he might die, and couldn’t bear the thought of not recognizing you in the class photo.

Funny how that all fucking worked out.

You hadn’t leapt off the bed, called him a dirty old man, and ran away to call the police. Which are probably good signs. So, slowly, he sits down next to you, halfway on the bed and halfway off.

“He sent it just a few weeks ago. I didn’t really think much of it at the time,” he says quietly. So you had been on the high school’s newspaper staff, as well as being the captain of the journalism club and ran the book club. You were on the volleyball team and co-Secretary of the student body government. Here, he spent all night trying to find out what kind of person you are when half your life is waiting for him upstairs. “But maybe he sent it as, like, some sort of . . . fond reminder.”

You snort, your thumb tucked under your chin as your hand touches the memories on the page.

“No, it fucking wasn’t. He was guilt-tripping you.”

So your dad definitely still remembered the fight all those years ago. Dieter grimaces. His gaze slides from the stock pages, to your knee, down the crease of your thigh.

“You know, he would have made me your godfather if–,”

“If you weren’t such a fuck up. Yeah, he told me that too.”

You finally look at him and find him nearly out of breath, eyes wide as though he had been struck by a sledgehammer right to the chest.

“Actually, he told me if I came around more.”

Your face crumples, the flippancy gone.

“Fuck, Dee, I’m sorry.” You cup the back of his neck with your palm in a soothing gesture and it stirs something within him. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“It is what it is.” Deflection, distraction, escape.

You smile gently, thumbing his curls as your eyes roam his face, seeing right through his bullshit.

“You know, you kinda became the cautionary tale around us growing up,” you murmur, gaze searching his face. “Not sure why, though. Since you’re, like, a gazillionaire.”

Not worth it. None of it’s worth it.

“I get that. I get why he didn’t want me around. Probably best that I fucked off and never looked back.”

The corners of your eyes crinkle, as though he had said something that didn’t make sense. You stop combing his hair and run your thumb over his ear.

“But I don’t think you are,” you say slowly, as though you didn’t need to explain. “A cautionary tale, I mean. I think you’re . . . an inspiration. No one in our town ever fucking leaves, but you did. You got the fuck out and lived your dreams. And that’s pretty cool.”

There’s not any hope for me, not if you knew all the fucked up shit I want to do to you.

Don’t look at me like that.

When he looks around for some self control, something to pull himself out of the pit he’s dragging you both in, there’s nothing. All eroded.

Moral degradation is a smooth fucking shot.

The yearbook drops from your lap, clatters to the ground as he takes your face with both his hands, his rings pressing into your cheeks, and kisses you so hard his lips knock against your teeth. The force of it rocks you flat against the mattress, your fingers wrapping around his wrists, grounding you to him – don’t take this back, don’t let go – and his tongue runs against your bottom lip once before your mouth opens without hesitation. He can feel that, that desperation, that eagerness to let him in, and he groans into the hollow of your mouth and you take it, you match it, just like everything else he'd given you this night.

Your tongue rises to catch him, to guide him, to show him the places you need to be touched. He’ll get there, you little thing, so he nips your upper lip and you gasp, your body tightening beneath him. He grins – there’s so much you have to learn.

His palm drifts away from your jaw, thumb gentle as it coaxes your cheek to the side, before he latches his lips to your neck, sucking and then a quick bite– all eased by his tongue. Your fingers dig up into his hair, clutching him to your chest as there is anything, anywhere else he’d rather be in the world. As if anyone could pry him off you.

He dives back into your mouth, air rushing out of your nose in a silent moan, and your knee hooks out around his hips, pulling him into the cradle of your lap. You jerk back –

“Dee, you’re – holy shit –,”

Your hips brush up as if you had somehow gotten it all wrong the first time. As if he isn’t rock hard above you. Your eyes widen as he smirks down at you.

“Yeah, baby, that’s all you. All you do to me.”

He chuckles, dropping his head to your chest, breathing deeply, head spinning from kissing you so thoroughly. He inhales, nose rubbing against the soft material of your shirt, ideas of peeling it off you with his teeth. Your scent, it’s all at once intoxicating, mesmerizing, and . . . familiar.

He groans, almost nuzzling your chest.

“Fuck, this smells like that nasty deodorant from 711 I used to buy ‘cause I couldn’t afford anything else.”

You slowly open your eyes up at him, a distantly embarrassed smile curling up the corners of your mouth. You look hazy, blurred, lips flushed and pink from getting them sucked and bitten. Had he not just licked your entire mouth clean from spit, you might have blushed.

Your fingers curl gingerly around the back of his neck. “Well, you never forget your first.”

His mouth falls open. You had successfully knocked him back on his ass for a second time that night.

“Shut the fuck up,” he husks, a grin breaking across his lips as the hand at your shoulder pulls gently at the sleeve. “This is my shirt? This has got to be older than you are.”

A small part of his brain, the part that definitely would object to fucking his pseudo-niece, goes warm at the thought that some part of him still lived in that neighborhood, was still there for all the important moments of your life.

That is until the very active part of his brain lumbers in, quashes all gentle feelings and promptly wrestles for control of his mouth to ask you flat out if you ever touched yourself while wearing it. Not that he didn’t want to know, but if you said yes, he would have come right there on the spot, perhaps so hard his dick popped off. So he did not ask you that, but he did satisfy that part of his brain by molding his hand around your hip, so he could feel the cool fabric on the back of his hand, and your warm, plush skin against his palm.

You like her being drenched in you, don’t you?

You swat at his chest, rolling your eyes, oblivious to his rapidly darkening thoughts. “It is not older than me, but if it was . . . would that be a problem?”

You pick at imaginary lint on his shoulder, hips rolling just enough to indicate it better not be a fucking problem, and a smirk on your face that reads innocent and filthy all at once.

Dieter shakes his head, grinning as he inches his wide palm up your hip, across the thin flesh of your ribs and –

Does not find a bra.

You had not been wearing a bra the entire night.

Your smirk deepens, your back arching into his palm, as his thumb brushes the underside of your breast, then over your tightening nipple. You moan softly, eyes fluttering, when he pinches it deftly. His jaw ticks, teeth grinding from the pleasure of watching your mouth arch open.

It’s like you had been given a list of all the things that turned him on and you are crossing them off one by one. Like you had skinned him and read all his little nasty thoughts written on his ribs and made them your own.

Like you were made for him.

He leans forward, the bristles of his beard and mustache rough like matches against the shell of your ear, his voice so weighty it could have been another physical thing he intended to drive into you, intended to rub against you to make you keen with pleasure.

“It’s not a fucking problem, you little brat. Only problem is gonna be if it keeps me from watching those pretty tits bounce while I fuck you.”

There it is. Out in the open. As if all his flirting and touching and tongue between his teeth hinted at something else besides you spread out under him. Half delirious from being so hard, he grins as he bites the bottom of the shirt – his shirt, Jesus Christ – and pulls it up and he ducks his head under the material and presses a sucking kiss into the valley of your tits.

He likes giving head from underneath the sheets because, yes, it was hard to breathe. It was hot and stifling and everything smelled of sweat and sex and eventually his brain was forced to make a decision about what motor functions to hold onto and he made it focus on sensations until he was sure he’d be swallowed up by the cunt under his mouth or impaled by the cock in the back of his throat and if that’s how they found him dead, he’d be absolutely fine with all of it.

Dieter Bravo – died doing what he loved. Giving immaculate, delicious head.

The heat under the shirt is nowhere near as intense but it’s enough to make him flush with want. He licks the sweat gathering underneath your right tit, holds it on his tongue before he lathers both his spit and your sweat over your clearly-painfully tight nipple. Every touch of his makes you stutter and he can feel you unconsciously rubbing your hips up against him.

“This isn’t going to end up on Youtube or some shit, right?” You ask above him, your voice rough as though your throat is dry. “You don’t have cameras filming this, right, Dee?”

He chuckles with his nose rimming your left nipple. Do you have a voyeur kink? He muses vaguely.

Fuck, I knew I shouldn’t have gotten rid of that mirror.

“No, baby, it’s not going on Youtube.” He runs his warm palms up the curves of your side as he tugs his head out from underneath the shirt. “All the videos go directly to a password-protected server in the Cloud.”

“Dee–,” you groan as he lunges forward and kisses you hopefully so hard it knocks those silly thoughts from your brain before pulling back to grin helplessly at you.

You cannot physically describe how impishly adorable he looks with his hair mussed, his lips pink and twisted in a smirk – you cannot really do anything at all, really – but your hand slides up from his shoulder, across his warm neck and settles into his cheek. The last bit of brown is swallowed by a swelling blackness as you rub your thumb across the bottom of his lip. This thing that has been eating at you the longer you’re around him edges you on, daring you to push him just a bit further because it knows you’d just love what he’ll do. It knows more than you, but it’s not exactly smarter than you. It’s just simply fascinated by Dieter Bravo.

Your own mouth parts, your eyelids growing heavy, as you swipe across his lips one more time before sliding your thumb into the warmth of his mouth. Eyes never leaving yours, his tongue greets your thumb, massaging the pad before licking around it like he’d swirl off the top of an ice cream cone. He sucks gently and you can’t fight the noise that comes out of you. Almost shocked, surprised that you can feel this aroused with all your clothes on and just his tongue. He drags his tongue across the back of your knuckle and the groan is louder now – you want to bite into him – and he pushes his hips into the mattress.

“C’mere, baby girl–,”

Dropping your thumb, he dives in again for your mouth, this time the back of his hand grasping your neck. He kisses you and kisses you and kisses you as if forgetting there was another way to relieve the tension in his gut, the spark that's fanning smoke like a brushfire into every place your skin, your spit, touches his.

“Take– this– off–,” He pants between the hot presses of his mouth to your jaw, your neck, the spot beneath your ear that makes you keen in a new way. His hands are scrambling over yours to get the shirt up and over your head, desire almost making him panic that everything is going too fast but not fast enough – he wants to be inside of you in every way that matter – he wants you to smell like him – to breath his same air –

He’s not so much kissing as opening his mouth over your skin, his teeth and tongue and lips fighting over themselves to get to you first. He wants to linger, wants to take his time but the pressure – he deliriously thinks he can smell you – and only when his fingers clamp down on the waistband of your shorts – he has half a mind to punish you for walking around in these things, making his sanity unwind in the hallways of this fucking place, until the only truly sane thing to do is fuck you and fuck you good – the thought is so strong, almost violent he pauses.

He looks up to the devastation he’s left in his wake – bright, purple spots on the inside of your breasts, under your ribs, the small swell of your stomach, your chest heaving – and he watches your face. You realize he’s stopped moving, slowed in his volcanic thunderous roll down to the clutch of your cunt, and you meet his gaze. You swallow, mouth too dry to form words, so you splat a hand on his shoulder.

"No robe. I’m not – not going to let you f-fuck me in a bathrobe.”

He grins. Of course, you would sass him after a make out session so intense he doesn’t even care if he comes in his pants. But he obliges, pretty much willing to cut off a finger if you continue to purr at him like you are.

“Excuse you, this is lounge wear.” He leans back onto his knees and shrugs himself out of the green robe. Your eyes flash to the triangle on his forearm and he’d be fucked to admit he didn’t get it entirely for the look in your eyes right now. Chicks always dug the tattoos. Your tits bounce as your breathing hitches.

Not Daddy’s girl, his smoke-heavy, lust-soaked brain chants at him, not Daddy’s girl.

God, he’s so hard it hurts.

He goes back down, dropping himself between your legs, arms tucked up under the backs of your thighs. He mouths the inside of your thigh – a distraction as his hand, like some sort of fucked up, horny magician performs a slight-of-hand, “iiiis this your clit?” – rubs you over your shorts. You are soaking wet and he’s fighting the urge to just dig in there, suckle you through the wet spot. He hadn’t actually made someone come that way before, but now seemed like an excellent opportunity to try.

“You know, for someone who has to couch-surf, you talk a lot.”

He noses the rim of the bottom of your shorts, allowing a full gaze down to your ass.

“Sorry if I’m sick of fucking boys who look like their mom dressed them.” You are breathless, shaky, unwinding at the seams and you know exactly what to say to dig right into him.

He bites the soft place at the back of your thigh and you groan.

“I thought you couldn’t remember any of them before me,” he purrs, watching that damp spot grow darker the longer he talks, the longer he holds off on touching you where you and him and the entire fucking world knows you need to be touched.

Maybe you ran your mouth too, when you were nervous, overwhelmed. Maybe you laughed too loud when you didn’t know what else to do, and maybe you gave him shit because the second words stopped coming out of your mouth, you’d have to sink into whatever he was giving you. You’d have to kneel to the white lighting between your legs. Maybe you were afraid there wouldn’t be white lightning at all.

Families share similar insecurities, after all.

He waits until you open your mouth again before hooking his fingers under the band of your shorts.

“Hmm, there’s actually a fairly long list of guys before you. Guys who–,”

He sucks the skin just an inch to the right of your hip bone, just before the patch of curly hair, he sucks it into his mouth and bites so gently he knows that your brain nearly splits in half from the hairline fracture between pleasure and pain.

You gasp and you’re already arching off the bed. He breathes across those coarse, damp curls and inhales.

Girlsex.

Girlsweat.

It’s like there’s acid corroding his brain, eating away at the clamps holding his sanity together and he’s gonna go fucking ballistic if the acid doesn’t get to him first. But he wants the burn. He wants the chemical smell.

He wants . . . to put his dick into something.

But first –

You’re pliable. Easy to move as he scoops your shorts off your ass – Oh, fucking Christ, there’s her entire backside, isn’t there? – over your thighs and he hurls the shorts over his shoulder. He inhales–

God, this pussy is going to kill me, he thinks or maybe says out loud before he tips forward into that black, fluttering hole. When he licks you, you both moan.

He remembers specifically doing planks for as long as he could to build up the upper body strength to languish here for hours.

Well, at the time, here wasn’t here here, but if everything before this was practice, then he was ready for the Olympics, dick as hard as a goddamn gold medal.

He swipes up with his tongue, licking and sucking and swirling like frosting was going out of style. Frosting, that’s it. That’s what you reminded him of. Fat, sweating, sweet frosting. And there was the cherry on top.

He guides your clit into his mouth, his fingers digging into the tops of your thighs as if to pull himself deeper into the wettest goddamn pool at the fucking YMCA. He sucks once and your hands fly into his hair. You’re making sounds that somewhat resemble his name, but they’re too high, too pitchy, too airless to be anything coherent.

He wants to tease you about all the boys you mentioned. Wants you to go back on your word, beg for him to believe that there was no one else before him. If there was, it didn’t matter because this is it. This is the best you’d ever have.

Even when you left him, you’d never forget –

Disgustingly, he slurps up one lip of yours into his mouth and you cry out, fingernails digging into his scalp so hard that it hurts and sends another rush of blood into his weeping cock. He mouths up before teasing your clit again – around it but never on it – before diving back down and lapping up your other lip.

“Dieter–,” you garble as if you know it’s filthy. He can hear your breathing tighten in your chest, feel your thighs clench around his ears, and he swears if he gets out of this with hair in tact, that’s the most he’s going to ask for –

And he french-kisses your clit.

You come, gasping, writhing, back arching off the mattress and he bares his forearm across your stomach, reaching up to pinch your nipple.

Settle down. We’re only just getting started.

He’s got to control himself but staring up at you, your face flushed with pleasure, he can’t quite remember what he’s supposed to do next.

You are naked underneath him. Naked and heaving and he licks the dampness staining his mattress just to have your taste in his mouth again. This is going to be a problem, if he can’t think straight without his mouth on you.

Oh my God, duh, fingers.

He pulls himself up the length of your body, and his hands sink into your hair. His fingers curl around your ear as he makes you look at him.

“How are you feeling?” It’s an echo of what he asked earlier. You’re still warm but your breathing has slowed. Your eyes are open, even if they’re fighting to stay open as if you are concussed.

“Good. Great.” You mutter, hand falling to his chest and tangling with his shirt.

“You wanna keep going?”

Your eyes open wider as if someone rang a dinner bell and you’d been walking on hands and knees, starving for weeks. You swallow thickly, nodding frantically, and the hand leaves his chest, winding down between you and, before he can stop you, slides under the material of his sweats and strokes him.

Your hands are like velvet.

Fuck, then what’s your cunt gonna feel like–

Do not fucking come right now.

“Oh, I see,” you huff, a smirk curling your mouth up, as if you had won some unnamed battle. You roll your shoulder to go aaall the way down his cock and stroke him. You think about licking your hand, but the precum leaking out of the tip of his head at a truly flattering rate is enough lubricant to keep your hand from sticking. “I can’t walk around without a bra on, but you can walk around in these thin fucking sweatpants and no underwear.”

He grits his teeth, dropping his head to his chest, trying to breath through the freightcar rattling down his spine.

“It’s my house, you little cocktease,” he pants, gasping as you run your thumb against the vein underneath his shaft. You pump him again and again and he groans low, with his eyes shut to keep them from rolling back in his head. “I can– yeah, right there – do whatever I want. Move your hand. I want to stick my fingers in you.”

His words aren’t so crass they make your ears red, but it’s the unrestrained need in his voice. You slowly withdraw your hands and you go wipe the threads of him on the mattress as he sits up to take his shirt off.

“Don’t. Just– gimme a second.”

He yanks the tank shirt over his head, setting down in between your legs again and blinking like he’d forgotten where he was. He takes your hand, licks your palm as clean as something as dirty as this could ever get, and then penetrates your hole with his middle finger. His tongue slides in the crevice between your ring finger and your pinkie and when he adds a second finger below, you both can feel the moment your brain is wiped blank and your body twitches along with it.

“Mhmm, good.” He pulls you down closer to him, fingers plucking your strings like the finest guitar. Your knees are spread wider than when he had half his body down there. He’s watching you practically drown his hand in the wetness seeping out, his other hand holding or balancing your knee.

He hovers above you, watching you roll and writhe and beg. His forearm is strained, his hand must be soaking, and he thinks your face contorted in pleasure might be permanently burned into his brain. There is still some part of him that knows that’s wrong. He shouldn’t have the faintest idea of what you looked like, high and blissed out of your mind, while his fingers stroke and dig and pluck and rub to drag you higher and higher –

The pad of his middle finger brushes something spongy and you nearly slam your legs shut over his arm, if it weren’t for his free hand pinning you open.

“Dee,” you croak, head shaking, “that was – you can’t–,”

His eyes flutter at the sound of your voice so wrecked. He needs to memorize that exact spot, save it for when you don’t have enough sanity left to push back. It’s scary, he knows, but you must be out of your goddamn mind if you thought he was going to let anything bad happen to you.

“Look at my thumb. Baby, look down.”

You wrench your eyes open, past your quivering chest, down his long forearm, down to where the black bullseye on the meat of the space between his thumb and palm is winking at you.

He’s stroking you with his thumb on your clit and the bullseye winking up at you. It’s eye-fucking you and that’s enough to break you. He wants to drink whatever drips out of you as your body locks up, head thrown back, and you come. You break through and his hand curls around your knee, gently, as he watches your body crescendo for the second time that night. He sucks his fingers, almost pensively, as if he is going to carve something out of you. Remake you. Split apart your atoms and rebuild you whole. Sex as an act of re-creation.

He kneels his way out of his pants, cock pounding red, leaking, the hot center of where his want for you is infecting him like a sickness.

Slowly, he drags one of your knees over his shoulder, half of your body hovering just above the mattress.

He wants to ask if you need it rough or slow. He can’t be gentle right now but he does have enough awareness to keep from hurting you. But maybe you, like him, like a little bit of pain.

He wants you on top, wants to see you sing for him, but he knows your legs are jelly. He knows there’s a white static hum in your brain and he’s so grateful for the pleasure of it.

He rubs the top of your thigh and noses the back of your ankle up by his ear.

“Do you want me to put a condom on?” he asks quietly, before kissing that spot below your ankle.

“Are you clean?” He’s so fucking broad and his rings pinch your skin when he pushes too hard and he’s asking for your comfort. You also want to feel every inch of his cock and you beg him to say yes.

He nods, suddenly irrationally thankful of Paul’s monthly mandated screenings. You get the clap once, and your fucking manager never lets you forget it.

You huff, realizing you’re so close your cunt can almost taste it. “I-I’m on the pill. A-a-and I’m clean too.”

As if he had ever denied you anything, as if his willpower hadn’t barely lasted four hours, you tense at the anticipation of his cock.

He’s just as warm, just as ready, so he grabs your other ankle and draws it next to your other one against the back of his neck. He sinks back just a bit on his ankles, fingers spreading you and grabbing himself and then–

It’s like getting the wind knocked out of you and getting sprayed with a hose of fire all at once.

“JesusfuckingChrist, you’re tight.”

He edges deeper as he sits up right, going slow not because he hadn’t unwound you properly but because if he went any faster, he’d obsess over the idea of getting rug burns on his dick.

“Dieter, oh God–,”

Hands leaving your ankles to wrap around your thighs, he rocks his hips back and drags out his cock just as much as the both of you can handle before thrusting forward. Again.

Again. He can’t seem to fill you enough. He wants to be bigger, thicker, girthier, if only to plug you up more.

But, fuck, your cunt is better than your hands but only because it’s so warm and wet and throbbing and he swears his heartbeat is in his ears.

He thrusts almost lazily, dipping his head to kiss your shin before dropping it back, your toes brushing his hair. His hands greedily squeeze your thighs, thumbs rubbing circles.

It’s like he has to recover from the shock and sensation of fucking you. It’s too good. It’s too much.

He’s inside of you.

If there’s a relief fund for grilled cheese, he’s going to have to donate every red cent he’s ever owned.

Your hands clench the sheets, mouth open and, yes, beautiful tits bouncing with every thrust. It’s not them hovering above him, begging to be bitten, but it’s close and he smooths his hand down from your thigh over his chest, down your hip and he kneads your breast.

“Oh, fuck, Dee, fuck . . . you feel so fucking good.”

I want to die in this cunt.

“So good, baby.”

It’s back, that pressure that connects the backs of his eyes, to the back of his gut, all the way to his pussy-soaked cock. This time he lets it build, lets it dangle out of reach, and his thrusts become faster, hurried. You jerk beneath him and let out a full whine as if he had spanked you.

He fucks you some more this way, just to feel that tightening in his gut, before he pulls your legs off his shoulders and you whine again, this time out of annoyance.

He has the where-with-all to smirk.

“What, baby doesn’t like it when I take away her toys?” He pants, almost feeling light-headed. You scowl at him but don’t push back in the least as he turns you onto your hands and knees.

“It was just starting to feel good, you a-ahh–ss–,”

He jerks his hips into you without warning, fully seating you on his cock and your head drops between your shoulders.

“If you weren’t such a brat, you’d be kind of cute,” he murmurs as he rubs his thumb over the knots in your spine, the sensation of your cunt sucking him in almost detaching him from this plane of existence. He knows you like to be teased, with his words, with his fingers, his mouth. He wants to give you everything – anything – he’s so pussy-obsessed he can feel it like ozone in his mouth.

He never wants to stop fucking you. He’s being unstable about it.

“You like that I’m a brat,” you say and push back with your hips. The sensation does make him stutter and you take it as a win. His rings sting as they squeeze your hips.

He’s sliding down that pressure, winding himself up so tightly in it he wants to stop breathing –

He starts pumping faster. The sounds that echo in that room are like music to his ears.

The sheets ruffling as your hands clench around them. The jolt of the bed as it lurches back and forth.

Your moans as he fucks every thought out of your head. “Fuck, you’re so big. It’s not fair.”

The wet slap of his thighs meeting yours.

And it all narrows down, the universe closing to a single focal point– all of it runs right to his cock rubbing up inside your cunt like it owns the place.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck,” you groan, head down. “Please – please fuck me harder, Uncle Dieter.”

With a growl that surprised even him, he drops forward, one hand anchoring himself to your hip and the other coming up around your throat. You gasp as his fingers dig painfully into your skin. He pulls you both up right, nose in your ear and teeth tight in his jaw.

He punctuates every word with a particularly brutal thrust that gnaws at something truly devastating inside you.

“Don’t – fucking – call me that – while – I’m inside – you–,”

You turn your head, flush with his and the hand that’s on your throat slides up to your cheek and he holds you there, pins you there as his cock pounds the daylights out of you.

“Say my name.” He husks. There’s something cataclysmic happening inside your cunt and he has the launch codes.

You can’t remember feeling so full before. So up your eyes and your mouth and your ears and your heart – God, maybe there really hadn’t been anyone before him.

“Oh, fuck, Dieter,”

“No, honey, my real name.”

Your eyes flicker open and something in his chest roars. He’ll kiss you after this. He’ll kiss you so hard you end up on another fucking planet.

“David.”

The sweat on his temples mixes with yours and he wants to smear himself in your fluids. This close, his beard and mustache rub roughly against your skin and you wonder how long the burn will last after all this. You’re clenching his arm, clenching his lower back to you, you think you’ll make him bleed in half-moon cuts of blood.

“All of it. All of it, baby girl,” he whispers to your cheek, your jaw. “Say it. I need to hear it. I need to hear it from you.”

Your fucked-out mind spins, clutching at the memories of the past, to a name you hadn’t heard in a decade, while the man you’ve known all your life threatens to undo your sanity. You lock eyes with him, the precipice of something so large and looming, you can’t wait to be crushed by it.

“Davíd Moralés.”

And that bastard’s cock intentionally pushes against that spongy spot and you shriek. Honest to God, yell, as you come, with Dieter wrapped up against your back, sweat streaking both of you.

“Get down,” he hisses suddenly and almost throws you off him. You land on your back, your entire body pulsing as one single organism, and he grabs his cock in time to aim it at your chest.

He comes, mouth open, eyes squeezed shut, as he sprays you with white ropes. It’s warm on your tits and you shudder through your aftershocks. You feel like you’re sinking into warmth as he keeps coming, your inner thighs drenched and dripping, and finally, he leans away and collapses on the bed next to you.

There’s ringing in your ears.

You feel swollen all over, your nerve centers humming and firing and crackling as though someone whapped you over the head with a 500 volt electric baton. You want to keep sinking, keep drifting, keep existing in this warm, non-corporeal form. Everything feels so good here.

You had no idea you, or anyone else for that matter, could come that hard.

“Holy shit.”

You can’t help but grin through the short huffs of breath you swallow down in gasps.

You want to sass him but it feels a bit like spitting in the face of God. “Yeah. Holy shit.”

He sits up on his elbows, glancing over his side at you, the begrudgingly fantastic cock between his legs as deflated as you are.

“Are you okay? Fuck, sorry, I got a little crazy there at the end.”

You shake your fist loosely, with your thumb and pinky finger extended. “I don’t hear customer service calling. In fact, I think the line has been permanently disconnected.”

You both laugh softly and his eyes roam over your face. This is why he only saw vampy women. It was easier to wake up to something almost over-the-top hot, than this. Than you, with your beautifully flushed cheeks, plump lips, and eyes that searched only for him.

His gut twisted painfully. Okay, you nutted so hard you’re pretty sure your dick isn’t going to work for a week, now wake up. Wake up and smell the fucking arrest warrant.

Uncle Dieter. You're his niece.

What the fuck were you thinking? Where could this possibly go?

Instead of inspecting the small-starting-to-grow painful throbbing in his chest, he sits up and pleasantly inspects the mess you both made all over you. You follow his gaze, smirking as he intentionally smears his cum over your skin with his thumb.

“Oh, and that thing you did at the end, where you made me–,”

“Yeah?” He grinned wickedly, almost begging you to use your words, but you had been so good for him. He’d save that for later. “You liked that?”

“At the risk of sounding desperate, yes. A thousand times yes. But totally unfair and totally cheating.”

He snickers and leans down to your thighs. “Yeah, okay, Ms. I’m Not Wearing a Bra.”

The smell of you is intoxicating and it’s drenching your thighs, the sheets below you. Maybe he could strip the bed before Maria came – oh, fuck, what if it’s in the mattress?

He hauls those thoughts out of his mind, his dick twitching uncomfortably, as he bends forward and licks the inside of your thigh.

“Oh my God, Dee, you can’t possibly be –,”

“Relax. I’m not. Just wanted to clean you up.”

He licks the drying liquid from your skin – you hiss, so very overstimulated – dragging his tongue up, never breaking eye contact with you as he slinks up your body, shoulders rolling – “Dee, wait, you’re gonna–,” and licks the cum off your chest. His own cum.

“Oh, fuck, that’s nasty,” you murmur, eyes transfixed on his mouth as he swallows. He chuckles, finally deciding you’ve had enough for one night, and he leans forward and presses his lips on your temple.

“I’m not ready, but it sounds like you might be.”

He reaches back to the floor where his shirt was so casually discarded. He gingerly wipes your thighs, your hips, your stomach and chest. There’d be time for a proper wash later, but right now he thinks he’s going to pitch forward into unconsciousness in less than thirty seconds. His limbs are heavy, his eyelids are heavy but he can’t stop smiling.

You grin at him as he tosses the very used shirt back onto the ground and gets up from the bed to disappear into the bathroom. You roll onto your side, after unpeeling the bedsheets like you had done it a thousand times. When he comes back, you rub your face against his pillows and he realizes if he’s going to hoard the sheets, then he’s going to have to do the same to the pillowcase.

“I’m not gonna wake up and find you mouthing that shirt, am I?” You ask, a smirk already cradling your lips. He huffs at you as he hands you a glass of water. You take it, gratefully, only vaguely aware that he probably did that kind of thing all the time with his other conquests.

That thought threatens to sour your good mood so you put the glass back onto the bedside table and curl deeper into the sheets.

He climbs in behind you, and rubs his nose over your shoulder and up into your ear, his hand spread across your hip.

“Only if I wake up in the middle of the night and can’t mouth your tits.”

He’s purposefully being sexy, being teasing, but there’s a question there. A request. A quiet ask that for all his thick dick swinging, doesn’t have the cojones to verbalize.

You smirk at him and roll back slightly to catch his mouth. You thread your fingers through his hair and squeeze once.

“Baby, I couldn’t stand up right if I fucking tried.”

He grins, eyes warm. “Wow. Even if you fucking tried?”

God, this is such a bad idea.

“Even if I fuck-in’ tried.”

But despite all his not-at-all begging, he wakes up alone.

He wakes up in broad daylight – the storm had passed. Too bright light streams in from between the gray curtains, illuminating the one thing he never wanted to see: your side of the bed empty.

His heart clenches so fast he thinks he might be sick. There’s real nausea as he stumbles to his feet and pulls his pants on from last night. He’s about to rush down the stairs, frantically flipping over everything in hopes of finding a note, even if it told him to fuck off.

You’re twenty years older than me, you fucking creep.

Just wait until my dad hears about this.

I never want to see you again.

Just as his mouth dries up till his lips crack, he sees something on the other side of the bed that makes him freeze in his tracks. It’s your phone, plugged into the wall. He goes over and taps the screen. The battery has only 15%.

And then a post-storm breeze rattles the patio door handle and it opens slightly. He sees your barefoot through the cut in the door frame.

Holy fuck, you’re still here, just outside.

Heart now jettisoning into his throat, he opens the door to a truly spectacular morning. His patio looks down to the freshly-washed Los Angeles, the sky a cobalt blue, the air cool and faintly smelling of rain. People run and lead their dogs through the streets and for a minute he thinks he can hear the ocean.

But what makes it truly spectacular is you. Curled up at the small table in one of his white shirts and those sanctimonious shorts. You’ve got a cup of coffee in your hand and you’ve got his favorite book, Eco’s The Name of the Rose, lying flat beneath your fingertips. But you aren’t reading. You’re looking at him.

“Well, hi there. Did you dream you missed a flight?”

He blinks. “What?”

“You just, sort of, rushed out here, looking like you forgot something.” You frown. “Is everything okay?”

He swallows and it’s all he can do to keep from dropping to his knees and pressing his face into your lap.

“Yeah, fine, fine. All good. Fine.”

You turn back to the book, staring at it as if it was giving you a pep talk. Then you shut it and turn back to him.

“So, um, last night . . .”

Here it comes. I regret it, all of it. You drugged me and took advantage of me. I can’t believe that you would–

“Was great.”

He swears he hears his blood rushing in his ears. You smile at him, but clearly uneasy. As if you are the one second-guessing it all.

Fuck, Bravo, put on your big boy pants.

He pulls out the other patio chair and sits down next to you. He clasps his hands, leaning forward on his elbows. His rings clink together. He nods, trying to catch your eyes.

“Yeah. It was fucking fantastic. I mean it. One for the books.”

He waits for you to say but.

You wait for him to say but.

Neither of you do. You grin and put your coffee on the table.

“So, in the events of last night . . . surprisingly, I forgot to charge my phone.”

He doesn’t want to touch you because he thinks it might spook you so he runs his gaze over your lovely knuckles, your wrist.

“Sounds like, then, you might need to stay awhile.”

You swallow, unable to contain the growing smile on your face. You duck your head and he follows you and your breath fans his face.

“Guess so.”

If he tells it, he says he kissed you.

If you tell it, you say you kissed him.

Doesn’t matter though. Doesn’t matter that the coffee grows cold and he ignites something in you that you didn’t know existed.

When he finally pulls away, he’s still smiling.

“This might be a bit weird, but . . . wanna see my other kitchen?”

The End

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #dieter bravo #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x you #f!reader #the bubble fanfiction #dieter bravo fic #dieter bravo fanfic #pedro pascal fanfic #the bubble fic #the bubble fanfic

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a-tiny-sloth · 5 months

Text

Bears in Trees, Starting Fires // Maggie Stiefvater, The Raven Cycle

do you ever listen to a song that fits a character dynamic almost too well?

[ID below the cut]

Image 1: Lyrics from Starting Fires by Bears in Trees reading: I keep lighting fires and I keep punching walls / I keep holding my breath and I keep poking holes

Image 2: A quote from The Raven Cycle by Maggie Stiefvater reading: Both of them stopped breathing. Gansey knew he’d gone too far. It was too far, too late, too much. Adam shoved open the door. “Fuck you, Gansey. Fuck you,” he said, voice low and furious. Gansey closed his eyes

Image 3: Lyrics reading: I keep smashing glasses and I keep falling down / I lay in the pieces and I keep rolling around

Image 4: A quote reading: With a sudden twist, he swept all of the figurines from the Queen Anne table. Foxes in breeches and terriers seized in midflight. They all plunged to the floor with a satisfying and diseased smash. He raised his voice. “World’s ending, folks!”

Image 5: Lyrics reading: I'll sleep on my sofa and you can sleep in my bed / I'll never feel whole but you're as close as I'll get

Image 6: A quote reading: Gansey said immediately, “You’re leaving with me.” “It will only make it worse when I come back,” Adam told him. “I mean for good. Move into Monmouth. Enough’s enough.”

Image 7: Lyrics reading: You can be the husband, I can be your wife / We can pretend we can cope with real life

Image 8: A quote reading: Gansey jerked his arm out of Adam’s grasp. Again his eyes darted down the hall and back. “You should look at yourself in the mirror.” Adam didn’t. “We do this, we do it as equals,” Adam said.

Image 9: Lyrics reading: White picket fences and stable jobs / Three little faces and a couple of dogs

Image 10: A quote reading: Out loud, Gansey said, “Fine, then. We’d find another good school. We play the game. We make up a new life for you.” Adam reached past him to find a rag and began to wipe between each greasy finger. “I would have to find jobs, too. This didn’t happen overnight. Do you know how long it took me to find these?”

Image 11: Lyrics reading: You can be the husband, I can be your wife / We can pretend we'll get over our strife

Image 12: A quote reading: Thank God we’re not fighting thank God we’re not fighting thank God we’re not fighting how can I keep it from happening again—

Image 13: Lyrics reading: Having conversations we’ve never had before / You’ll be drinking whisky as I walk out the door

Image 14: This was a conversation they’d had before, and entire days of arguments were replayed in the few moments of quiet. The words had been said often enough that they didn’t need to be said again.

Image 15: Lyrics reading: I walk to the seafront and jump in fully clothed (Ohh) / And I keep wandering aimless, oh shit, I don't even know (Ohh)

Image 16: A quote reading: Gansey couldn’t shake the image of Adam by the side of the interstate, walking, walking, walking. Knowing he was forgetting what he was doing, but unable to stop. Unable to remember Gansey’s number, even when people did stop to help.

Image 17: Lyrics reading: I keep starting fires and I keep poking holes / I keep holding my breath 'cause I am nothing at all

Image 18 : A quote reading: Adam inhaled. Gansey didn’t. He didn’t breathe at all. He just stood, frozen, his hands gripped around his king’s helmet. He told himself to breathe in, and he did. He told himself to breathe out, and he did. He didn’t move, though, and he didn’t speak

#i don't think i'll ever truly be able to represent the dots i'm connecting between this song and adansey but i did my best #as always with my web weaves questions are very welcome i put a lot of thought into every aspect even if it only makes sense to me <3 #trc #the raven cycle #adam parrish #richard gansey #adansey #bears in trees #noah's stuff #long post #web weaving

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jellybean-nymph · 1 month

Note

want to go in details about what happened between you and your brother? id love to hear all about it (and jerk off to it<3)

when i was 5, my parents and i moved houses. my parents slept in the second floor, while my brother and i had our own floor in the basement, with separate rooms. i had never had my own room as i had slept with my parents before then, in a corner in their room (my parents haven't had sex since i was born allegedly lol).

i was scared to sleep alone due to a lot of nightmares (most of which was PTSD nightmares as i had been raped the winter before our move, by my babysitters husband).

my brother would let me crawl into bed with him when i'd have those nightmares, and he would always rub my back or my tummy to get me to go to sleep. now when i was 5, he was 14.

it started out innocent enough, him just rubbing my tummy especially. i have PCOS and by the time i was 6 i started developing breasts. at 5 i would play with my nipples bc it felt good and made me feel tingly. he caught me doing it one night (i would sleep with only my panties most nights) and asked me what i was doing. i told him, told him it felt good, and he said he'd help.

so after that, when he'd rub my tummy to get me to go to sleep, he'd play with my nipples as well (rubbing them, pinching them, twisting them gently). after a bit of that he'd told me to lay on my side, so i did. he'd keep playing with my nipples so i didn't mind. i would feel something hard against me, and i'd ask him what he was doing but he said he was just helping himself and to go to sleep. he was grinding his cock against my ass. he always wore his boxers though, so he didn't cum on me.

until i was 6. i slept with him until i was 8, pretty regularly. throughout that time he would grind himself against my backside, until he got more bold and would grind himself between my pussy lips (still wearing underwear) and he said it was our secret game. he always looked so happy, and i looked up to my brother more than anything, so i let him do it - and was happy to let him.

eventually i asked him what was under his boxers (it took me about 6 months to be brave enough to ask) and when i saw it, he was leaking precum and i - who is autistic with a severe oral fixation - leaned forward and licked the precum off. it tasted awful, but he moaned and i knew that meant he was happy. so i did it again, and again, until i started being able to fit the tip in my mouth and made sure i licked his cock lots.

he would cum over my tummy a lot. this whole time my "private parts" would be tingly and i would feel myself dripping, so i would grind against his pillow, his leg, my stuffy, whatever i could find at night. that's when he started playing with my clit to get me to go to sleep, and eventually he would finger me. i would moan so loudly he would put my stuffed animal over my mouth, and would turn on an audiobook to muffle the noises i made. i don't remember how long we played like that, but eventually, he put it inside of me. and i cried. it hurt so badly. he would have me ride him, said it was just like playing horsey. so i played horsey with him. he was only 5 inches, if he was any bigger it would've been unbearable.

but yeah. i would ride my brother every night for about a year or two, until he got a girlfriend. then i would service him while they dirty talked on the phone, and he always said i was the best sissy he could ever want to have. and it made me happy.

during that time, his friends would grind against me and i gave one of his best friends a blow job when i was 7. i loved giving him a blowjob, i had the biggest crush on him and his dick was so smooth and pretty.

after my brother turned 17 he pretended nothing had ever happened, and he started being very mean to me - beating me up, throwing me against the wall, etc. idk what changed. maybe he felt guilty.

we dont talk anymore. my parents were never home enough to know what went on.

#!nc3st #r@pe kink #r@pe fantasy #this shit is true btw lol

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puffpasstea · 2 years

Note

omg yayyy that angsty sick matilda blurb sounds amazing!!! i can't wait <3

So, this took a COMPLETE TURN!!! It's also wayyyy too long to be a blurb, but I really hope you still like it. 🥺🥺🥺 Please let me know what you think! Warnings: dom!harry, fluff, mentions of smut.

-----

I knew when I’d gone to bed feeling achy all over and drained of energy after doing the bare minimum that I’d wake up feeling sick this morning, but the reality of how I felt still exceeded my expectations. I dragged my feet across the floor to the medicine cabinet and pulled out a thermometer to check for a fever. Luckily, there it was within normal range. I was probably just dehydrated and sleep deprived. In fairness, I’ve never had the best immune system anyway, as a child, I got the sniffles pretty much twice a month. My grandmother and her friends always speculated that it’s because I never got enough bonding time with my parents as an infant. Some people informally diagnosed me with a deficient immune system, stemming from some kind of imbalance or other. When I’m not in denial about how I treat myself, I tend to think it’s because I run myself into the ground on a regular basis and overall suck at looking after myself.

I would never confess or try to explain the thought process to anybody because I know just how insane it sounds when said out loud, but I often feel that I don’t deserve to rest. And, even if I did, it wouldn’t matter either way. Because, unlike the average person, I had no real personal life, or a family who depended on me. All I had was work. It’s my one real responsibility; the one thing I’m decent at; the one thing I actually enjoy. So, I didn’t need to take breaks, and if I end up falling ill, it wouldn’t matter anyway. The only person who’d end up being affected would be me. Comforted by my dubious logic, and the fact that I had no fever to speak of, I decided I’d power through and go into work. I was going to spend my time in the microfilm room, alone, for most of the day. Maybe, if I get everything done early, I could get a nap in before dropping by the film set.

I stuffed my work bag full of tea bags, Emergen-C, and cough drops, just to be prepared for the worst and got out the door. Thanks to the regular covid testing policy on campus, at least I knew I wasn’t carrying a deadly disease. That was a silver lining.

The first couple of hours of work went by fine, it was when I began to feel weak and queasy that the trouble started. I probably needed to eat something to get my energy up, but I had positively no appetite or desire to eat. The very thought of food made me nauseous. I had some generic meds in my desk drawer that I could take, but those probably shouldn’t be taken on an empty stomach.The irony of the dilemma frustrated me. I feel too sick to eat, so I need to take some meds, but I can’t take any meds before I’ve had something to eat first. The adult thing to do here would probably be to seek medical help. So, I tried to imagine what a doctor or nurse might say to me. “Get some rest and drink some fluids.” Which would mean skipping out on work; the only thing that gave me purpose. Nope. Finally, I made the decision to put a couple of spoonfuls of sugar and a squeeze of lemon into my hot tea, to see if that would help. On the plus side, working with microfilm required very dim light and precise temperature control which probably mitigated the headache some. If there ever was a day to be sick on the job, today was it.

Around lunchtime, I felt my phone buzz in my pocket. Out of an abundance of caution, and a superstitious kind of respect for these materials that hardly anyone ever requested anymore, I decided to take the call outside. Cracking open the door and stepping into the hallway proved disorienting. But I told myself I was just dizzy because my eyes needed to adjust to the light. Caller ID on my screen showed that it was Harry, causing an almost reflexive smile to appear on my face.

I swallowed, picking up the call.

“Hello?”

“Hey, sweets. Am I interrupting anything?”

“No, never. What’s up?”

I heard him chuckle nervously on the other end of the line. Though he seemed uncertain, the sound of his laugh always made my heart skip a beat. Not that I’d ever tell him that.

“C’mon, out with it, Styles. What’s going on?”

“Uhh, well, this is gonna make me sound like a horny shithead, but, I’m free for the next couple of hours, and- last week, when I had this time off, we-”

“Oh, so, this is a booty call?”

All I heard in response was a bunch of incoherent stuttering. One of the reasons that I found Harry’s dominance so compelling was the fact that, meeting him in the context of everyday interactions, you’d never guess that he had it in him to be that cruel or strict. It always caught me off-guard whenever he would flip the switch, and it was always the hottest thing ever.

“Not when you put it like that.”

“Like what?”

“Come over and meet me, and I’ll show ya.”

I weighed the options in my mind. Not that his offer wasn’t tempting, but I hated being around people when I was sick. I’d purposefully come in through a different entrance so I wouldn’t have to run into Fran and let her see me like this. If I declined Harry’s offer, though, he would almost certainly know that something’s off. We always found a way to hook up when the opportunity presented itself. To be sure, he always checked in and made sure I never felt pressured or obligated. Sometimes I’d have to get impatient and yell that I definitely show up because I want to, not because I have to, before he’s fully convinced, but we always, always met up. Even if it meant delaying for a bit, or waiting until later in the day. I mean, sure, the sex was fun and all. It wasn’t just about the sex though. Spending any time at all with Harry meant the world to me. He always made me feel seen and heard, and allowed me to explore sides of myself I never thought existed. He was also, always, unexpectedly wild and funny, and I got to see glimpses of what he’s personally like, that often lingered in my memory long after our interactions had ended, and I would fantasize about spending my life with him and sharing these moments everyday. In other words, even if he weren’t calling me for sex, I’d still want to go. The question is, would I be able to hide my current state from him?

“Hello? Have I lost you? Connection in the trailer’s kinda spotty sometimes…”

“N-no, I’m here, Harry. I can hear you.”

“Oh, well- umm… listen, I didn’t mean to make you feel like an object, I’m so sorry….I came off sleazy for sure…I just thought It’d be nice to-”

“Hey, Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“Come over here an fuck me, will you?”

“On my way.”

***

Harry’s smile slowly dissolved as he got closer and closer to me. I unlocked the old office-turned-storage-room that we often hung out in for privacy, and snuck him in.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Uhh, well, hello to you too?” I deflected. He was already seeing right through me. I loved that Harry knew me so well, could read my body like an open book, knew exactly what I needed when I needed it, and knew exactly how to give it to me. But, times like these made our intimacy feel overwhelming and suffocating.

“No, I mean it.” He cut straight through my attempted bluff. “What’s wrong? Your eyes look glassy, and…well, you seem off.”

I entertained the idea of playing it off like I was offended. “Excuse me? Just go ahead and call me ugly, why don’t you. after you called to-”

“Baby, you know I think you’re beautiful. Always. Don’t act like that isn’t true. We both know it is. Now tell me what’s going on?” He reached over to caress my cheek with the back of his hand. “Shit, you’re burning up….”

I stared into his eyes, unable to speak, and unable to look away. My anxious mind ran over the different possibilities for this conversation. I wasn’t sure which would be worse, having to tell him that I’m sick and him insisting on doing something about it, or having to tell him that I’m sick and him walking away from me.

I don’t know why it felt so inconceivable to admit to him that I was feeling ill. Harry had seen me at my worst pretty early on in our friendship. He’d cleaned my apartment, shaved my body, washed my hair, without batting an eye. Hell, he’d even stuck his dick in my ass, beat me bloody, and spent many nights looking after me in subspace, at my most vulnerable. So why was this so hard? Maybe because I hate asking for help, or maybe it’s because Harry had already done so much for me. I didn’t want him to feel responsible for me. I also didn’t want to appear helpless and needy. And yet, this instance, the only thought I had was how I’d crumble to the ground if he pulled his touch away, let alone left the room.

“I-I swear I wasn’t feverish when I came to work this morning…” I wrapped my arms around the arm that touched my face, to make sure he kept it there.

“You’ve been sick since this morning?”

“Since…last night.” I mumbled.

“So, earlier, when I called and you hesitated…” I could see in his eyes that the realization hit him. “Oh, god. And I didn’t even bother to ask how you were doing before I asked if you’d wanna suck my dick…what kind of- shit. Shit. shit! I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t mean to-”

“Harry, Harry, Stop!” I squeezed his hand to get his attention. “You didn’t ask me to suck your dick. I believe all I heard was incoherent stuttering…”

Harry rolled his eyes, cracking a smile. “Okay, brat. Gonna let that one slide. Only cuz you’re ill though...”

“Seriously, I was the one who asked you to come over. Stop berating yourself please.”

“Alright, well, it’s a good thing I came, isn’t it?” He wrapped his arm around my shoulders. “Let’s get you outta here. C’mon…”

“I’m in the middle of work!”

“Work will survive without you for half a day. All the dead poets will still be dead tomorrow. Let’s go.”

“I can’t-”

“You seem to forget who’s actually in charge here…”

***

On the way home, I fell asleep in the passenger’s seat of Harry’s car, with his hand on my thigh the whole way. When I woke up, blinking the sleep away, and attempting to open my eyes, all I saw was Harry’s gentle smile, inches away from me. “You’re awake..” He’d bent down to cradle me into his arms, and carry me out of the car,

“W-wait, what are you doing? This isn’t even my place!”

“Yeah, it’s mine. Think i'm lettin’ you spend the night alone when you’re this sick? Who’s gonna look after you if your fever doesn’t go down? Hmm?”

“I- Harry, I’m a grown woman. Can take care of myself, you know. I HAVE gotten sick before…”

“Honey, I don’t doubt that you can. But just cuz you can, doesn’t mean you should have to.”

Despite my relentless protests, Harry refused to put me down until we’d reached his bed. He set me square in the middle of the king sized bed and promptly went on to take my shoes off for me. Which I fought him for, and attempted to kick his hands away. A Battle I quickly lost.

“It’s pathetic…” He shook his head with a smile as he undid my shoe laces. “On your very best days, I can tie you up and pin you down with one hand. We’ve done it countless times. Tryin’ to fight me when you’re sick? It’s just sad…”

I blushed at the recollection of my body underneath his, aching for his touch.

He disappeared into one of his gigantic closet and came back moments later. “Heating pad; some clothes…boxers might be a bit loose, but that’s probably more comfortable anyway, and here’s an extra pillow to prop you up. Want the TV on or do you wanna just sleep while I make us some soup?”

“S-soup? Harry, you're supposed to be on set in an hour!”

“Took care of that. Don’t worry.”

“What does that even mean?”

“Chicken noodle or Italian vegetable? I’m thinkin italian…”

***

I stared down at the empty soup bowl in my lap as Harry watched the tv with his arm around me.

“Harry?” my voice was already strained. Tears pooling in the corners of my eyes,

“Hmm?” his eyes still on the screen.

“Can I ask you a question? But please be honest.”

“‘Course, always.” He muted the tv and turned around to face me, giving mr his undivided attention.

“What happens on a film set when a leading actor suddenly disappears in the middle of a work day?”

“Oh…” He turned his attention back to the TV, apparently deeming my concern unserious. “Depends on the circumstances…”

“Let’s say he disappeared cuz he skipped out on work to go make Italian vegetable soup for the woman he’s sleeping with.”

Harry looked visibly irritated. With a loud huff, he ran his fingers through his hair, pressing his lips together tightly…

“First of all, I’ve already told you to quit worrying, I have everything under control. Second, you’re not just some ‘woman I’m sleeping with,’ alright? Get it through your thick head, I’m in love with you! I know you’re too fucked up to accept that as fact, and I get that. I don’t blame you. I mean, you couldn’t even tell me you were sick! Think I don’t know why that is? I may not experience the things that you do, but I’m not an idiot…” He took a pause to catch his breath and to gain control over his tone. “You’ve got it in your head that you don’t deserve love. Any time I try to show you any decency or step closer, you bolt right away under the assumption that caring about you is this huge fuckin burdon to me. Well, it’s not. I’m not gonna argue with you about it. I know I can’t just convince you of it in one conversation….but I’ll be damned if I don’t spend the rest of my life trying to show you what it means to love you.”

Hot, stinging tears ran freely down my face. “You- love me?”

“Mhmm.” Harry nodded and reached for the remote, unmuting the TV as if he’d just taken a quick bathroom break, or something.

I laid my head on his shoulder and continued to silently cry as he kept his focus on the film. Neither one of us said a word for several minutes.

“Told them I had covid symptoms, by the way…’don’t wanna put anyone in danger before I’m sure..’ you know…”

“What?” I pulled my head off his shoulder to look him in the eye. He burst out laughing. “I’ll conveniently test negative tomorrow and go back to work.”

#dom!harry #matilda #harry styles #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfiction #dom!harry styles #harry's house #harry styles blurb

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witchersmistress · 7 months

Note

Hey Busy Bee,

I hope you're doing good.

Would you mind writing a fluffy fic where August (it could be Walter too) is taking care of his partner who is on period?

Take creative liberty and make it as tooth rotting as you'd like

I'm currently experience terrible period cramps and I'm in dier need of some comfort. Hot water bag isn't helping.

Thanks❤❤

Of course!! id be delighted to. periods cramps suck and i dont know about you but they make me miserable. poor Jamie LMAO

Word count: 2.4K

Little Honey-Bee

Warmth surrounds me so completely that I almost can’t tell what tugs me out of my comfortable slumber. Arms are steeled around me, holding me tightly against a hard body. After August’s confession and earnestness in his words,

“ I wanted to make sure you were safe. You were always my priority, just as you always will be. You, my little honey bee, are where my life begins and ends, because a man like me doesn’t care about anything but their queen.”

I allowed myself to fall into a deep sleep in the safety of his arms. He never did strike me as the cuddling type, but every time I tried to roll across the bed to escape the furnace, he tucked me right back against him. I lay for a few moments, keeping my body still while I try to pick up on any noise in the house, but it’s completely silent apart from August’s soft snores behind me. It’s another few minutes before pain spreads through my lower belly and takes my breath away. Oh no. As quickly and quietly as I can, I pry myself from his grip and scurry across the room, not bothering to pick up my robe from the floor on my way back to my bedroom. I stop in the doorway and lean against the frame, pain radiating down to the tops of my thighs and taking my breath away. I’ve always had bad periods.

Ever since my first one when I was twelve. Most months, I spend two or three days in my room feeling sorry for myself because I physically cannot get out of bed, and by the way the cramps take hold, this one doesn’t seem any different. I must have lost track of my cycle since being here, but the arrival of my period does allow me to breathe a little easier. Although anything can happen, it’s unlikely I would get pregnant at this point in my cycle. If nothing else, I need to find a way to get on birth control without August knowing it, even if it only buys me a few months. I’m not ready to be a mother, and I’m certainly not ready to bring a child into the world while we’re at this impasse. We’re still trying to find a way to make things work, and for the most part, I’m still pushing him away every chance I get. Why would I want to bring a baby into a situation like that? I do feel comforted by his promise to never raise a hand to me, which means he probably won’t kill me when my usefulness expires.so the deal with my father wasn't a total waste

It may be naive of me to believe him, but there was something in his tone that told me he was being sincere, and it gave me the opportunity to rest.

“The reason I tell you this, Bee, is because I need you to understand that while I am a monster, I am not the same as my father and uncles. I do not enjoy hurting women, and I’ve gone to great lengths to bring us together. I would not do anything to jeopardize that, and I will never lay a hand on you in anger.”

I burst into my bathroom and quickly slammed the door behind me, turning the lock immediately. I’m sure there’s a camera in here somewhere, but the illusion of privacy is enough for me right now. And if August decides he wants to get nosey, it’ll be his fault when he sees something he isn’t ready for. Another cramp hits me just as I lower myself onto the tiled floor by the toilet, the pain so intense it makes my stomach protest painfully. I’ve done this enough times to know the throwing up isn’t far away.

My hands fall to my lower stomach and tears escape the corners of my eyes. I need to put some clothes on, but the cool tiles on my overheated skin is like heaven. Plus, I’m not sure I can get up off the ground without assistance, and I’m sure as hell not allowing August to see me like this. When I’m sure my stomach isn’t about to lurch its way up my throat, I crawl across the tiles to a stash of underwear I hid in here so I didn’t have to get dressed in a room I knew had cameras. Now I know all of them do, it seems redundant, but at least it’s handy in times like this. Next I make my way to the vanity, praying that whoever stocked it had the foresight to prepare for menstruation, and breathe a sigh of relief when a box of tampons catches my eye. Oh, thank God. The thought that I may have to ask the scary Mafia man, who has killed more people than I’ve probably met in my life, to go to the store and buy them makes me blush and scoff at the same time. Lord have mercy on the shop assistant that would have had to assist him. Before I can force myself to my feet to take care of business, the sound of my name booming down the hallway startles me. I don’t want him to see me like this, not when we’ve just started to find our way. But if I don’t answer him, it will only end badly for me. “I’m in here,” I groan, not sure my voice will carry through the door and into the hallway. Hot tears stream down my cheeks as my body begins to heave.

There’s nothing in my stomach, between everything that happened before August and I fell into bed and slept the day away. I never had a chance to eat anything, but that doesn’t stop my body from trying to expel the contents of my stomach. The door handle moves, but the lock doesn’t allow him to get any further, and a loud knock ricochets off the tiles. “Bee! Why is this door locked?” he demands, his voice full of anger. I’m sure he thinks I’m hiding from him, hiding from how vulnerable we were with one another. “I’m sick. Go back to bed.” I barely manage to get the words out before my body heaves out nothing but clear bile. There’s silence for a moment and I almost think he’s doing as I asked, but when the sound of metal on metal fills the room, I realize I’m about to have company. “Please don’t come in here, August,” I pleaded. Instead of a response, the door swings open, and a very naked August meets my gaze. I must look at a sight. Hunched over the toilet, naked, with tears streaming down my face as I clutch my stomach. He takes me in for only a moment before he’s kneeling on the tiles beside me. “What’s wrong?” His eyes are gentle as he gathers my hair in his fist and pulls me back into his hard body. His warmth comforts my shivering body, and I can’t help but relax back into him. I shake my head. This is mortifying. As if being taken by the enemy isn’t bad enough, I’ve then proceeded to start to like him, and now I have to talk about my period? Absolutely not. I’d rather gouge my eyes out with a wooden spoon.

August tenses at my silence, but his hold on me remains soft. He doesn’t strike me as someone who has ever looked after someone like this, but he’s surprisingly good at it. “I need you to tell me what’s going on, Bee. I can’t fix it if you don’t tell me.” “You can’t fix it anyway,” I croak right before another cramp grabs hold and a spasm shoots down my leg. “I’ll burn the entire world down for you, Bee . I can have a doctor here in ten minutes, but I need to know what they’re treating to make sure I get the right one.” His words are strained, and I almost wonder if he’s struggling to see me in so much pain. The man who causes grievous bodily harm and murders people for a living, doesn’t like seeing me like this, and that makes my heart do a flip in my chest. “A doctor can’t do anything for me. Plenty have tried, but this is just how it is.” The admission only makes me feel sorrier for myself. This has happened every month for the last thirteen years, and no medication, or birth control, has even begun to mellow out the symptoms, some of them even made them worse.

August lets out a breath and nods against my back. “Your period.” It’s not a question and I almost roll my eyes at myself. Of course he knows. Of course the man who has stalked me for the last decade knows about my long sordid history with every doctor in the city. It shouldn’t come as a surprise, and yet it does. “Yes,” I murmured . Silence falls over us, and I find myself relaxing more and more into his warmth. August brings a sense of calm to my usually active mind, and it’s nice to lean into the quiet for a little while, especially as my body revolts against itself. “Are you still feeling sick?” August asks quietly, his breath whispering across my bare shoulder. I’d all but forgotten I’m naked because he’s been keeping me warm. “No.” I shake my head, barely able to move even to do that. “Let’s get you in the shower. The warmth might help.” He stands carefully, never allowing my body to leave his, before lifting us both from the ground altogether.

The moment my eyes lock with a small patch of blood on the pail white tiles, my entire body heats with embarrassment. I’ve never been more mortified than I am right now, and I’ve done some pretty embarrassing things that have ended up on the front page of the New York Times. August’s gaze follows mine and a chuckle rumbles in his chest. “Little Honey bee, I kill people for a living. Do you really think a little blood is going to gross me out?” “It’s different,” I mutter to him. He uses his free hand to tip my chin up until my eyes meet his. “No, it’s not. It’s natural, and you don’t have to hide these things from me. We’re a partnership, and if one of us is in pain, or not feeling well, the other is always going to want to help in any way they can. If that means I have to clean up a little bit of blood, so be it. I’d do it a thousand times over if it meant it would help you.” I open my mouth to respond, but no words come out. I’m completely speechless. No man has ever been willing to use the word ‘period’ around me, let alone buy sanitary items or even see me naked during that time of the month, and yet August takes it in his stride, and more than that, he wants to help. He wants to make me feel better while I’m at my lowest, and as if it were ice in a river, some of my resolve to hate the man who has taken me from my life cracks. August Walker is nothing like the man I thought he would be, and I’m beginning to think that maybe he was right. Maybe ten years ago when he saw me across a crowded room and decided that someday I would be his, perhaps he was right about it all. Because if I’m honest with myself, my heart is starting to beat in time with his cold, dead one.

August’s POV

Scooping my sweet little honey bee into my arms as I walked her into the shower and turned the water on and watched as the steams billowed out the top. Sitting her on the built-in bench as I grabbed her lofa and her body wash and began to wash her up. She tries to stop me but i shove her hands away “Bee, let me do this” she sneers at me before leaning her head back as i was the trickle of blood from her legs. Cleaning her up, I stand to tower over her tiny frame “Take all the time you need, I’ll be right back.” she nodded as I closed the shower door behind me. Going over to the closet, i pull out the mattress protector and extra sheets, i throw on some grey sweatpants and head down stairs, i toss her pjs into the dryer to get warm and i cut up some strawberries, for her, i sweet snack but not a heavy one and made her a cup of peppermint tea for the nausea. The timer for the dryer goes off, I pull out the stuff and head back up stairs, “Bee” I called as I made my way into her room. “I'm leaving pjs for you on the sink” i heard a soft thank you as i close the door with a soft click, making my way over to the bed, I take the heating pad, turning it on for her, and pulling back the blankets, i set the plate of fruit off to the side of the bed as the bathroom door opens and the steam billows out.

I walked over and scooped her up, as she protested and beat her small hand against my chest, i climbed into bed with her and position her on my lap and drape the heating pad over her, and gave her the cup of peppermint tea “For the nausea” she nodded and took a small sip, then leaned back and sighed. Placing kisses along her hair line and down the side of her head, i turned on her favorite movie, she snuggled up close at set her tea down, picking at the strawberries i brought up for her, within 20 minutes of the movie, she was passed out softly snoring on my chest. Reaching over and turning off the lights, I pull her further down into the blankets and just watch my little honey bee sleep, like I've done so many times.

#henry cavill characters #august walker #august walker imagines #henrycavill smut #henry cavill imagine

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joyboyish · 10 months

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(me projecting onto luffy)

above all things, luffy loves.

he loves his crew

he loves aquatic animals, frogs, and bugs (especially beetles)

he loves sabo and ace

he loves being a pirate

luffy loves lots of things

but luffy has never been in love

the whole predicament started after leaving wano, when he saw nami reading a book. nami says it was about two women, one was a princess and the other was her knight, they fell in love but they couldnt date because they came from different backgrounds, and the princess was already engaged to a cruel prince from a far off country, where her knight wont be able to protect her.

"i dont get it" luffy says "why cant they love each other? if someone told me i cant love you id punch them"

to say namis jaw was on the floor was the understatement of the century

"luffy this is a different kind of love. " she starts "its like the love me and vivi have, i love her romantically.. we kiss each other and hold hands you know?"

"but i hold your hand when we go shopping on islands so i dont start trouble and i kiss everyone on the forehead after robin reads me and chopper bedtime stories"

nami sighs "luffy do you know the difference between platonic and romantic love?"

luffy thinks for a bit "i know that there is a difference, i just dont know what it is i guess.. i know nami and vivi have a different kinda relationship cuz nami told me but i dont know why its different."

nami sighs, remembering his reaction to finding out about her and vivis relationship "maybe you should ask someone else, i dont even know how to start explaining"

----

luffy decides to go to robin. robin is wise and knows lotsa things. she'll know how to respond!

robin does not know how to respond.

"captain-san... have you ever been in love?" the archeologist asks

"nah" luffy giggles "sounds boring, i'd rather go on adventures shishishi"

robin takes a moment to consider this. luffy has always been a little dense romantically, there have been times where hes nearly walked in on intimate moments of the residents of various islands after they've saved them. he obviously knows what sex is considering how he laughs every time he hears the word but she's never heard him talk about wanting to have it. robin doesnt think she can even imagine luffy in a situation or a person hed want to even have sex with.. who could luffy even ask? jinbe would blush so hard he'd turn purple, brooks jaw might fall off, chopper is a reindeer, and franky might malfunction

"captain-san.. you should try asking cook-san, he talks about love frequently and may be better suited to answer this question" robin smiles

"shishishi youre so smart robin!"

------

"sanji you've been staring at him for 5 minutes!" usopp sighed

"yeah sanji! and youre going to burn dinner!"

this seemed to snap him out of his little trance and get back to cooking

"so uh.. luffy what makes you ask that question" sanji manages to get out

luffy shrugs "forgot"

"w-well luffy! if you want to know what its like to fall in love maybe we should look at some past experiences!" usopp smiles "like... who was your first crush?"

"yeah thats a good idea!" luffy says "how do i know?"

sanji chokes a bit "wh-what do you mean how do you know?!"

"its ok! its ok!" usopp states "how about who youre attracted to? what gender do you see yourself settling down with"

"yeah, are you into girls, boys, both, other... the list goes on really" sanji says, deciding not to think too hard about luffys obliviousness

"i dont want to settle down! i want to go on adventures forever!" luffy declares

"well.. then who do you want to go on adventures with together? you can only pick one person!"

"hmm... i dont know usopp... i cant choose just one of you!! i love you all equally!"

"well... who do you want to be intimate with? like cuddling, kissing, sex and other things"

"i already cuddle with you guys on our sleep overs though? and i already told nami i kiss everyone on the forehead before bed!" luffy sighs "i dont get it!"

"thats ok! maybe youre just aroace" usopp says, stealing a bite of whatever sanji is cooking

"hey yeah, how havent we thought of that sooner?" sanji wonders, smacking usopps hand away

"huh? whats that?"

"just means youre not interested in being in a sexual or romantic relationship. nothin too strange"

"oh."

"oh?"

"i'll think about it" luffy says quietly

"yeah well while youre thinking about it go call zoro for dinner, he usually takes the longest" sanji huffs

"okay.."

----

after climbing up to the crows nest to get zoro luffy knocks on the door

"hey zoro?"

"hm?" zoro says, opening his eye

"sanji says its almost time for dinner"

"whats wrong? usually youre excited for dinner"

"its nothin... i was asking 'round to find out what its like to be in love and usopp and sanji says i could be aroace or somethin.. said i might not have any of it or whatever. said i could just be one and be aro or ace... i cant be ace! ace is ace! i just wanted to find out what bein in love was like.. i dont wanna be alone while everyone else finds someone and leaves the crew..."

zoro laughs. he laughs hard.

"h-hey dont laugh at me! this is a big deal! i cant be pirate king without a crew!"

"sorry- sorry!" zoro breathes "i dont think you have to be too worried though"

"well i think i do!"

"hmm.. since nami started dating vivi has she loved you any less?" zoro asks

"well- no.. but-"

"you see? nami isnt going to leave ya just because shes dating vivi. she loves you the same, she just loves vivi differently"

"oh..."

"dont worry about it luffy.. even if everyone gets married they'll stay. and even if they dont i will. i will until the day one of us dies" zoro smiles at his best friend, letting him know hes intentions are genuine

"shishishishi zoro isnt as stupid as i thought"

"hu-? hey what?!"

"shishishi last one to dinner is a rotten egg!"

"hey thats cheating!"

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weirdprophetess · 1 year

Text

been seeing people talk about Ethel Cain a lot and had chills the entire time i watched her perform Morning Elvis with Florence so I'm playing Preacher's Daughter for the first time and writing notes as I go

fair warning this is an incredibly long post

first of all i have to say i love this album cover the dark warm browns are gorgeous and really give off that rural small town vibe and i read a few articles about her so i know she grew up in a place like that and the album title is describing her because her dad was a deacon of the church her and her family grew up in

the basssss the bass starting family tree ooooooohhhhh i love that

these crosses all over my body remind me of who i used to be and christ forgive these bones im hiding from no one successfully jesus can always reject his father but he cannot escape his mothers blood W H A T

THE BEATSSS THEYRE SO DARK AND DRAMATIC AND ATMOSPHERIC IM SCREAMING IM ONE MINUTE IN AND THIS IS MAYBE THE BEST ALBUM INTRO IVE EVER HEARD

my brain chemistry has already been altered i instantly need this on vinyl

loveee the guitar starting off american teenagerrrrrr

the suspended vocalization tooooooo)(U*U@PIHF@

i love love love her voice its so rich and she does deep and high notes both so amazingly welllllllll screaming

the melody the flow of the lyrics the beat the synthy floaty sounds im deadddd i love thissss i want to rip it apart like soft hot bread and eat ittttt

SAY WHAT YOU WANT BUT SAY IT LIKE YOU MEAN IT WITH YOU F I S T S FOR ONCE

MAIN CHARACTER TYPE SONG I LOVE THE IRONY I LOVE TEH SADNESS IM GOING TO WALK AROUND TO THIS SO MUCH THAT IS ONE OF THE HIGHEST HONORS I CAN GIVE A SONG @mothercain YOUR HAND IN MARRIAGE BITCHHHH

I HAVE FINISHED TWO SONGS AND ITS ALREADY MY NEW PERSONALITY TIME TO HYPERFIXATE FOR MONTHS AND LET IT TAKE OVER THIS WHOLE FUCKING BLOG

THE SUSPENDED PIANO NOTES FOR HOUSE IN NEBRASKA???? Y E S

THE ECHOEY VOCALS MAKE ME INSANE IM CLAWING AT THE WALLS RENDING MY GARMENTS GNASHING MY TEETH OH MY GODDDDDD

I STILL CALL HOME THAT HOUSE IN NEBRASKA WHERE WE FOUND EACH OTHER IN A DIRTY MATTRESS ON THE SECOND FLOOR WHERE THE WORLD WAS EMPTY SAVE YOU AND I WHERE YOU CAME AND I LAUGHED AND YOU LEFT AND I CRIED WHERE YOU TOLD ME EVEN IF WE DIED TONIGHT THAT ID DIE YOURS

YOU KNOW I STILL WAIT AT THE EDGE OF TOWN PRAYING STRAIGHT TO GOD THAT MAYBE YOULL COME BACK AROUND I HAVE FULL BODY CHILLSSSSSS

THE ROCK GUITAR SMASHING IN AND BEING SO CRUNCHY GODDDDDDDDD

He's never looked more beautiful on his Harley in the parking lot breaking into the ATMs sleeping naked when it gets too hot from what ive heard people say about Lana Del Rey's music this sounds like she might've been an influence

show me how much i mean to you while im lying in these sheets undressed id hold the gun if you ask me to but if you love me like you say you do would you ask me to troubles always gonna find you baby but so will i crying only because im happy hold me across every state line im never gonna leave you baby even if you lose whats left of your mind cause you know ill be right there beside you riding through those western nights

ooh there's another song called family tree the first one was family tree (intro) but there's track five without (intro) delicious

oohhhhhooohohoho same first two lines but then new lyrics

give myself up to him in offering let him make a woman out of me ooooh hoo hoo hooooo

so family tree is a banger

i immediately thought emo cowboy on hearing those lyrics and google actually gave me that so thank you whoever made this image because its truly the essence of this album

the next one is hard times and the first thing i thought of was paramore ive been obsessed with that song lately

nine going on eightaayynn lay it on meeeeeeheeeeheeeee yessssss

im tiiiiired of you too tiiiiired to leave im tiiiired of you still tiiiiied to meeeee

I MET YOU THERE IN TEXAS

MY ASS WHO LIVES IN TEXAS👀👀👀

i met you there in texas somewhere on the thoroughfare on the side of the road with a pistol in my pocket i didnt trust no one but you said baby dont run ill take you anywhere

AND YOU SAID HEY DO YOU WANNA SEE THE WEST WITH MEEEHEEEEEE CAUSE LOVES OUT THERE AND I CANT LEAVE IT BEEEEEE AND I SAID HONEY LOVES NEVER MEANT MUCH TO ME BUT ILL COME WITH YOU IF YOURE SURE ITS WHAT YOU NEED

love love lovvveeeeee the beat that comes in a bit before that part

sad cowgirl winter lets go girls

i am halfway through this album and ive made more notes than i have for some albums twice the length thats how good 13 track albums always are

its not a real cowboy album if youre not spending the last two minutes of a nine and a half minute song just vocalizing

oh the nexts songs called gibson girl ive heard of that but i forgot what it is hang on

a type of drawing by a man named Charles Gibson of the ideal woman of the 1890s ooh should be interesting

the intro for this songgggg

the production is the fucking besttttt

the echoes for this one too yesss i love this shitttt

i dont even know what image to put this over but just youre all the same black leather and dark glasses pourin another while i shake my ass hes cold blooded so it takes more time to bleed obsession with the money addicted to the drugs says hes in love with my body thats why hes fucking it up

the guitar breakkkkkkk:PO(*&^%$^;l;pqokpiaw

next ones name is ptolemaea so lemme go look that up too

oh yeahhh that greek astrologer dude okay

ooh the distortion in the beginningggg

the intensity building is so horror-like i love it

the screech on the last stop made me jump a lil goodbye

I am the face of loves rage what the fuck

the guitar and drums all getting more intense after that line remind of of the end of I Know The End by Phoebe Bridgers ill take ten million more songs with that please

the entire ending um???

its a good thing i decided to listen to this album around noon and not the middle of the night because i love demonic speaking parts but not when my eyes arent adjusted to the dark girl

ooh august underground is an instrumental i went to look up the lyrics and apparently its named after a horror film trilogy so ill probably check that out soon

televangelism is also purely instrumental and genius says its ethels ascent to heaven as music god this sounds gorgeous

what i wouldnt give to be in church this sunday listening to the choir so heartfelt all singing god loves you but not enough to save you so good luck on your own baby so i said fine cause thats how my daddy raised if they strike one once then you just hit em twice as hard but in the end the fire bent under the weight they gave me and this heart would break and fall twice as far eating these lyrics

WE ALL KNOW HOW IT GOES THE MORE IT HURTS THE LESS IT SHOWS BUT I STILL FEEL LIKE THEY ALL KNOW AND THATS WHY I COULD NEVER G O BACK HOME E T H E L THERE IS NO NEED TO EXPOSE ME LIKE THIS???

SO I MET HIM THERE AND TOLD HIM I BELIEVE SINGING IF ITS MEANT TO BE THEN IT WILL BE AND I FORGIVE IT ALL AS IT COMES BACK TO ME IM STILL PRAYING FOR THAT HOUSE IN NEBRASKA BY THE HIGHWAY OUT ON THE EDGE OF TOWN DANCING WITH THE WINDOWS OPEN I CANT LET GO WHEN SOMETHINGS BROKEN ITS ALL I KNOW AND ITS ALL I WANNA KNOW

one more song i have no idea what to say

freezer bride, your sweet divine look i have been obsessed with the locked tomb for over a year im not going to NOT think of Alecto when i see this

when my mother sees me on the side of a carton in winn-dixie's dairy aisle like the one promo picture for this right

and arlington's in texas👀👀👀

f.inisheddd thea lbum(*&#!OHPI#!HFo

wow what the hell was that im going to obsess over it forever

if there is not a colored vinyl of this i am going to fucking murder someone this deserves something gorgeous for me to stare at while its playing

in conclusion i cannot in any way let my religious mother know im trying to get this album so im going to work with my friend who helps me get explicit/gay music my mom wont let me because spotifys alright but i need to listen to this on my little portable cd player with headphones on full blast on the floor in the middle of the night because truly every album experience is better that way but especially shit like this

ethel if youre reading this how the everloving FUCK is this your debut album this literally deserves a grammy we all know they havent been shit for a while but if you dont get one for this im going to maul the entire Academy for real. keep doing weird shit i literally heard about you from Morning Elvis with Florence, my number one weird music woman and her taste has not failed me yet, especially not after an hour of being immersed in this

#ethel cain #hayden anhedönia #preachers daughter #mother cain #southern gothic #southern gothic aesthetic #my post

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the-fandom-is-now-my-life · 1 year

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Hi! Request for 300 followers event. Genshin AU.🌸

It so happened that y/n birthday falls on a school day and she can't celebrate it with her family, which makes her very upset. But her friends decide to make a surprise and organize a cozy holiday together. As it turned out, the guy has romantic feelings for y/n and gently shows it. Even her roommate noticed it, but her doesn't notice it. And at the end of the celebration, he still directly confesses his feelings.

As one friends and roommate I see Xinyan and guy is maybe Thoma or Tartaglia. As an additional factor due to which y/n cannot celebrate her birthday with her family, it may be that she is a foreigner.

I'm bad with English and gender-neutral pronouns, so forgive me. Although I wrote about y / n in the fem, it would be nice if she was gn.

Love you😘

First ask for the event!

Wc: 2.3k

The snow is thicker up the mountain than back home, usually you would have complained to Dan that it was unfair that the students up there could get to see such beautiful sights as a freshly fallen snow on grass or the small icicles that formed on the roofs. Now, being one living in the so wished place you can't help but kick your younger self, it's beautiful indeed but you got seven comforters and it's still freezing cold

" YN!" A familiar voice whines over you as her hands try to rip you off your blanket cocoon " it's a Sunday night! And tomorrow our earliest class is at 9! Let's go to the practice room! Or even watch a movie or something!!" Even if she should keep her voice down and try not to be seen as to not get kicked out of your dorm intro her own xinyan still isn't shy about your 'illegal' sleepover 'everyone did it once! Xingqiu sleep four nights a week at chongyun's room. it's okay' she always insists

Looking to the side you see the clock, 12:07 am " today's class you would want to say"

" Same difference! We got nine hours, we can stand to watch a movie for an hour or so!" Quickly ripping a blanket out of your cocoon she whines at the many layers she would have to take off before you are out

" Give me this birthday gift, mkay? It's really cold and I really want to sleep. Pleeeeaase?"

Her body stiffens over you " aaah? It's your birthday?? OMG! Why didn't you tell me? I wanted to plan something for you!" She hugs you and kisses your head " happy birthday bestie!"

Hugging her back you answer " I'm just a bit homesick from having to spend my first birthday without my family and so" you try to detangle your hair with one hand

" Bestie, at least you should have told me, we could have gone out to shop for clothes or eat at xiangling's restaurant "

" Oh well, for next year then."

" Huff. Whatever "

The next morning the clock strikes at 8:30 and the mattress on the floor is empty and cold. Did xinyan really get so angry at you that she left early? The thought makes your chest ache

Putting on your uniform you walk to school to eat breakfast at the canteen. Maybe you could eat something sweet like the dango milk and Sakura mochi you saw last week at the Inazuma stand. Or maybe something savory like a kebab or a fisherman's toast? Choices choices choices.

By the time you arrive you have to make do with what was left, you did get to grab a bottle of dango milk but there were no mochi or taiyaki so you grab a rice ball. Hopefully the class won't last that long

Two hours hearing a teacher bicker about theater and make up for each character could have been interesting had curiosity not been in your head. Why did xinyan leave so early? You don't think the internships at the school band were until next month. Oh well, you can survive a class without your friend.

As soon as the clock ticked everyone stormed off the room. That means it should be around 11. Thankfully next class' teacher is absent so that leaves you free until 1pm. Maybe you could go to a cat Cafe for brunch? If you showed your student ID maybe you could get a birthday discount or something. But touching around your neck you don't feel the familiar fabric around it. You must have forgotten to put it on when you woke up, it should be in your nightstand

If you run, maybe you could get there by 12 and order a lemon key pie or a tres leches cake and some coffee or tea.

Running down the main stairs to your dorm you see a head peek out of a tree. Is that xiangling's hair? Before you approach someone grabs your hand. It's Thoma.

" YN!" His smile is bright and contagious enough that you match his energy in seconds " where are you going? Shouldn't you be in class?"

" Oh? My teacher is absent for next class so I have two hours free" you answer

" Really?" He exclaims before lamenting " it never happened to me before, at best we could get out early but we never lost a class in the middle of the day"

Softly you laugh " is there anything you wanted?"

" Oh, yeah!" He exclaims "as you don't have anything to do, will you come with me? I have to go run some errands and I would prefer to have someone to chat with!' His smile is wide and bright as the sun, it also serves the purpose of warming your heart a little.

" I was going to the cat Cafe but I can tag along with you" you follow him walking the commercial zone " what do you need to do?"

He vaguely answers " oh I just got to pick up a few things. Ayaka wanted some sweets and ayato's order arrived so I'm picking everything up "

" Okay, let 's go!"

The variety store is the closest one to the school, they sell everything from pens and paper to jewels and fabric. Looking around the shop while Thoma speaks with the employee you see so many kind of things, from violet gems that gave a tiny electric shock to a stand with different types of pearls right next to a feathery fabric.

Running your fingers up and down the material you feel the tiny feathers follow your movement. So soft and comfy

" Know i charged extra given the express delivery fee" the voice of the male employee sounds fed up, dragging every word

" Oh, yeah, don't worry, special occasion" looking to the side he asks " can i add something else?"

" Yes"

" Can I buy 3 meters of that fabric over there?" He points towards you playing with it

" Okay. Just let me cut it"

" Oh! I will come back for the fabric just ring it in and I'll come back later" sighting the cashier nods

" Okay, that will be 1500 mora plus the fabric " he mumbles some numbers

" Here, thanks " he leaves a bag with coins and grabs the bag " yn we are leaving"

The cafes and restaurants are closer to the exit, seemingly it's because students coming in will be starving and students leaving already ate at the school. You see xiangling's dad frying some rice and meat, you would greet him but you wouldn't want to break his focus.

The cafe that Thoma leads you to is an Inazuma specialty shop. Seemingly there has been an influx of Inazuman students after their borders opened a few years ago.

" Is Ayaka really keen on sweets?" It sounds obvious to Thoma but he knows you have yet to know her

" Of course" he accentuates those words " she has a liking for raindrop cake specially, but it's hard to get so she is happy with having mochi"

" Do you like sweets? I see you grabbing dango when I go to the cafeteria"

" Oh I'm not that much of a fan" he turns left on one of the corners " i like savory better. Do you like sweets?"

" I LOVE sweet things" he looks towards you, seemingly surprised from the emotion in your voice" the lemon cake that the cat's tail serves is identical to my aunt's. So nostalgic" you fake cleaning a tear

Thoma laughs " my, oh my. Didn't know you liked sweets that much " he enters a building and you follow along

The conversation with the girl was short but you couldn't understand a word. The Inazuman language is really different to the one spoken in your town. Quickly the girl goes behind to the kitchen and leaves you alone for a few minutes

" I have never heard Inazuman language before. It really is different from mondstrat's" you tell him

" It really is" he smiles lightly " it took me weeks to understand the locals. More so answer! It was so embarrassing. Once I asked for a box of tomatoes but got slapped because I asked the girl if she was pregnant!" He laughs. You truly hope it was a joke.

"No way!"

" I SWEAR! I was so embarrassed I couldn't go to her shop for a month. I'm so happy there is at least one shop that reminds me of home"

" Inazuman sounds so nice, tell me something in it "

Thoma thinks for a second before smiling "月が綺麗ですね"

You look at him in awe, admiring how each sounds " that sounds so beautiful! What does it mean?"

Has it gotten colder? You don't feel so but Thoma's cheeks have gotten redder. " it means 'The moon is beautiful, isn't it?' it is from a book written a long time ago"

The shopkeeper returns, but now, rather than her stern face from before she is wearing a small smile and handing Thoma a sealed box

Leaving the store you grab Thoma's unoccupied hand " your cheeks seem red so you must be cold!" Thoma's cheeks get warmer than before. It must be freezing.

Walking back to the academy the thought of checking the hour crossed your mind, looking at the clock next to the window of a shop you see it marks 12:40. 20 minutes until the next class. Shit! Turning to Thoma you excuse yourself

" I'm so so sorry! I really have to leave" kissing his cheek goodbye you start running to your next class.

The classes of art history, regional literature and dramatic reading go by and end at 7:30 pm the sun is almost completely down radiating a golden hue in its leave. Wrapping a scarf around your neck you plan to grab dinner at the cafeteria and maybe watch today's opera or play in the school theater. Maybe it's Yun Jin play, you heard they are very good.

Leaving the classroom you feel someone hug you " bestie!" It is xinyan " follow me! I got something for you"

" If it's about me missing my birthday, don't worry about it. Truly, I'm not upset"

" Don't be like that. Follow me" she runs to the exit and to the forest dividing the anemo and Geo dorms " quick, slowpoke!"

Jumping over a cut tree you catch up to her " ha! Caught you" you hug her around the waist so she can't escape. Either way she wouldn't be able, given the way she is laughing non stop.

" Happy birthday bestie" xinyan pats your head affectionately

"Surprise!" Chongyun, Xingqiu, xiangling and Thoma pop out of the trees yelling

" Now, tell me you didn't expect it. At least humor me" she begs

" Well, actually, i didn't"

" This could all be done because of Thoma'' she signals to him who only lets a soft 'hi'

"he took you around while we set this all up. He even managed to get some info" she pushes your shoulders towards him " and all that last second. Isn't he so reliable?" Her words are suspiciously honeyed

" Yes, i guess" you brush her off

" Now, c'mon the food is going to get cold, they can kiss later " xiangling yaps while everyone was talking " i didn't cook seven different dishes for you all to

" Xiangling don't say things like that!" Xinyan berates her slapping her shoulder softly

" It 's true. I didn't even add garlic as you as-" xinyan covered her mouth before she finished talking. Luckily you were too busy talking with the boys

" My auntie went to the city to buy you this" says chongyun while giving you small box

" Mine should come in a week or so. I asked for one those foreign novels, supposedly they are funny" xingqui exclaims " if only you had told us before"

" Who hung those lights?" You look around the top of the trees and see a wire with little lights around

" Oh, supposedly the hydro residence is going to use it for the new year party so i volunteer to untangle them if I can lend them for today" xingqui " they are supposedly new technology in fontaine"

" Do you want shrimp?" Chongyun offers one of the golden shrimps

" Xiangling!" Xingqiu cries out holding a dumplin " there are carrots in here!"

" I'M SORRY!!"

Watching them bicker about nonsense made you happy. Those were your friends.

" I got you a gift too" Thoma says in a whisper

" Oh, you didn't have to" you look at him, his face as red as when you kissed him goodbye

He takes a deep breath " no, i insist. Please come with me"

You two walk further inside the forest, until you couldn't hear your friends anymore

" So?" You sit in a tree stump " what gift deserves so much secrecy?" It's humorous really, how embarrassed he seems over one silly gift. He is so cute.

That is your line of thought until he kisses you. A kiss a bit too stiff, nervous and short for your liking. When you look at him you see him playing with tye hem of his uniform

" The gift of my… heart" that last part was a bit hard to spit, seemingly trying to get stuck to his throat " or my love. However it sounds Best" it seems that your friends helped him. Those are sentences only xingqiu could think of " so if you want my gift please tell me tomorrow or Friday, that way I can make you a coat that you will be able to wear this winter if you don't want the first thing" the sentences were long but quickly said. Thoma almost ran out of air

There is a second of silence where you two looked at each other and you give yourself a moment to admire him, his blond hair slightly messy, his jaw clenching, his chest rising up and down, his eyes blown wide with adrenaline.

" Uh, so, enjoy your party, i bought the cake you said you liked" he left running towards his dorm

Did he just kiss you, confess his love and now he is running away?? The audacity.

Some sounds come from bushes a few meters away.

" Did he chicken out?"

" We missed the kiss??"

" Yesss, finally"

" Are we going to be uncles?"

" yunyun, shut up"

That is why xiangling didn't use garlic in her stew then.

#genshin impact #gi #300 follower event #college days #thoma x reader #genshin thoma #genshin x reader #genshin x you #gn reader

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