#my inbox is empty and rotting

[adddddiiii]

Tim Drake Headcanons

He loves sneaking late-night coffee dates with you, even if it's just in your kitchen with mismatched mugs

He always checks in on you through a quick text during patrol

Tim 💗: I'll be home soon, miss you already

Sometimes he falls asleep mid-conversation and you always drape a blanket over him and brush the hair out of his face

He gets so wrapped up in his work that you have to physically drag him away from his desk for cuddle breaks

With his super awesome detective brain or whatever, he remembers everything you like and things you'd simply mentioned wanting

And he gifts them to you at random moments

He has doodles of your name with hearts along the margins of his case files

Once, he forgot to erase them and Bruce side eyed him brutally

He sends you random photos of Gotham sunsets from rooftops

Sometimes he lets you paint his nails don't tell Jason, he'll never let him hear the end of it

He adores your voice so much that he has recordings of you humming or just talking, which he listens to when he's alone

His love language is making custom gadgets for you

"I know it's a bit overkill but it has a tracker, a panic button, and... okay, I added a flashlight because you lose your phone a lot and I don't want you stuck somewhere in the dark."

[miyadollie]

R/CRUSHES : HOW DO I TALK TO MY OFFICE CRUSH ? sillyguy0813 says : dude just borrow a stapler

★ STARRING office worker lee jeno x fem reader ( ft. best friend jaemin ) ★ WORD COUNT 2.6k + 3OO bonus ★ CONTAINS co-workers to dating, fluff !! lee jeno being a cutie, jaemin is a menace to society, workplace romance, ★ MIYA SAYS 💗 this is my first time TRYING to write a long fic :3 pls give me any constructive criticism and feedback thank uu 🧘🏼‍♀️ . update : wow i absolutely dislike my writing here but its been rotting in drafts too long and i gave up on fixing this TT

it starts with a stapler.

one you’re not even sure belongs to you. maybe you bought it once during a sale, or someone left it at your desk during a particularly chaotic week, and it stayed. quietly claimed as yours.

the moment wasn't love at first sight, no grand declaration of love with bouquets or fireworks. just a quiet tuesday morning, your inbox overflowing, the boss increasing your headache by preponing your deadlines, the coffee machine on its last breath and the fluorescent lights above flickering slightly like they, too, were tired of this job. and then there’s him.

lee jeno. clean-cut. soft-spoken. the kind of guy who always says “excuse me” when passing behind you, even when there’s plenty of space. always dressed a little too well for your casual office. not flashy—never that—but tidy, crisp. thoughtful. one cubicle down, diagonal from yours. he’s been here a while. a familiar face in the sea of semi-familiar ones. you’ve never really talked but only ever exchanged the kind of polite nods reserved for coworkers who share nothing but recycled air and a breakroom.

until today. “could you pass the stapler?” you look up, startled slightly by the voice.

he’s leaning just slightly over the low partition separating your desks, eyes trained on the corner of your workspace where your lonely black stapler sits. he gives you a smile. not flashy. not flirtatious. just—nice. warm. gentle. you blink once. then reach for it. “thanks,” he says. you nod. he returns to his screen. that’s it. except… it isn’t. because the next day, he borrows a pen. the day after that, post-its. then tape. then scissors. always returning everything. always smiling. always saying thank you like he means it. and now you’re wondering. is this flirting? some kind of extremely office-safe, hr-friendly version of it? or are you just painfully, embarrassingly overthinking it? or maybe did you have an unspoken crush on him? not that you can be blamed. - lee jeno is attractive. undeniably so. you’ve seen him once—just once—rolling up the sleeves of his white button-down in the middle of summer, and you swear you forgot how to form a coherent sentence for ten straight minutes. defined forearms. slim but strong hands. that razor-sharp jawline, often tilted thoughtfully while reading something on his screen. dark lashes. deep voice. a gym guy, apparently—you overheard it once when he mentioned it to jaemin (you weren’t eavesdropping, you just… have really good ears). you haven’t initiated anything. neither has he. but those tiny moments? the ones that make your heart skip? they’re adding up

────

FRIDAY | 4:30 PM

“soo… still down to try that new restaurant?” jaemin asks one afternoon, casually leaning on your desk during lunch with a fresh iced americano in hand—probably his fifth for the day. “obviously,” you reply, eyes lighting up. “people have been absolutely glazing it online. thanks for getting us a table!” he grins. “see you at 9 then.” just as he turns, he spins back around like a cartoon character. “oh, also—jeno’s coming. hope that’s cool?” you freeze. your face says i’m fine, but your body language screams mayday. “y-yeah. sure. totally chill,” you manage. “coolcoolcoolcool,” you say, immediately turning your head towards your computer, and then you see your reflection on the blank empty screen. you were blushing. hard. jaemin smirks knowingly as he walks off. of course he knows. he always knows. after all, he’s the mastermind who told jeno to borrow your stapler in the first place. ────

8:55 PM

the restaurant is low-lit and warm, the kind of place where the wood-paneled walls muffle outside noise, and everything feels just a little more intimate than it should. you arrive five minutes early. out of habit, mostly. or nerves. you’re not sure which. jaemin’s already there, somehow sipping an iced americano even here, scrolling through his phone while pretending not to notice your presence with a dramatic sigh. “i told you 9:00,” he says, without looking up. “it’s 8:55.” “still early.” he glances at you now, then raises an eyebrow. “cute top.” you ignore his antics, he’s just trying to get a reaction out of you. typical jaemin. your heart is already thudding too loudly, because jeno walks in right after. black shirt, sleeves rolled up. clean slacks. a bit of cologne, subtle but warm. his hair’s tousled slightly, and his eyes light up just a little when they land on you. “hey,” he says, with that soft smile. you don’t trust yourself to speak, so you just smile back, scooting over so he can sit across from you. the conversation is light, easy. mostly thanks to jaemin, who fills every awkward silence with a joke, a story, an embarrassing anecdote about your office. jaemin and jeno were friends in school, you get to know that night, they were benchmates. jaemin always chose jeno as his partner for every game, every lab, and jeno just liked his company, so he stood with him always. jaemin talks about you to jeno too—how you both were first day interns and hit it off over a conversation about which seventeen album is truly the best. but every now and then, you catch jeno looking at you. not staring. not even for long. just—looking. like he’s seeing something he's trying very hard not to see too obviously. “so,” jaemin says mid-way through dessert, smirking at you over his spoon, “funny how you two never end up talking at work.” you nearly choke. jeno shifts in his seat. “like, what’s with all the stapler borrowing, huh? no small talk?” you glare at him. he grins. “i’m just saying. feels like there’s some unspoken office tension.” jeno lets out a quiet laugh. and then, after a beat—he looks at you. “i guess i just… wanted a reason to talk,” he says, voice soft. and your breath catches. your heart is thudding again. you manage a smile, small and shy. trying not to mess up words or blabber out something nonsensical. “i noticed,” you reply. the space between you feels full, suddenly. full of every little interaction. every thank-you. every passing smile. jaemin stretches obnoxiously. “well, look at the time! i’ve got a meeting with my bed in ten.” you roll your eyes. “you’re so obvious.” he shrugs. “you’re welcome.” and just like that, he’s gone with the wind. leaving you and jeno, two half-finished desserts, and a quiet restaurant glowing gold in the late-night hush. “i can walk you home,” he says, gently. not pushing. just offering. and something in you says yes. to the walk. to this night. to the maybe that’s been building between you both. ────

10:45 PM

the night is cool, with a breeze just strong enough to lift the corners of your coat and make you tuck your hands into your sleeves. the restaurant’s warm glow fades behind you, replaced by the hush of quiet streets and dimly lit sidewalks. jeno walks beside you, hands in his pockets, his steps matching yours. neither of you says anything at first. the silence isn’t awkward. it’s... full. full of unspoken things. of nerves and glances and the way your arms brush every few seconds and both of you pretend not to notice. “jaemin talks too much,” jeno says eventually, voice low. you laugh softly. “it’s his specialty.” he hums in agreement, then adds, “he wasn’t wrong, though.” you glance at him, catching the way his eyes flicker to yours and then away again, like he’s testing the water, like he’s afraid of saying too much too fast. “i... didn’t really need the stapler that day.” your breath catches. “oh,” you manage, and you’re smiling now. you can’t help it. “i just... i guess i liked the idea of you looking at me. talking to me.” he pauses. “even if it was just a stapler.” you stop walking, just for a moment. jeno turns, realizing you’re no longer beside him. there’s a streetlight above him, casting shadows across his face and soft highlights in his hair. “you could’ve just said hi,” you whisper. he steps closer. barely. but enough to make the air between you buzz. “i know,” he murmurs. “i wanted to. every day. but you always looked so focused. and i didn’t want to ruin that.” your heart is a mess of drumbeats and warmth. “you wouldn’t have.” silence again. then he says, barely audible, “could i maybe get your number... just for office related stuff, of course.” you nod, because your voice has already betrayed you too many times tonight. a soft smile tugs at his lips. the quiet kind. the kind you know he saves for only a few people. he walks you all the way to your apartment. and when he says goodbye, it’s not a hug. not a kiss. just a quiet “goodnight” and a look that lingers longer than it should. but your heart knows. it knows everything. ────

SATURDAY | 9:00 AM

the next day, the office is just waking up. it always feels colder in the morning—half because of the ac blasting too early, half because everyone’s too busy chasing caffeine to talk. desks are still half-empty. monitors glow. the printer sputters. someone sneezes. a mug clinks. you step in, trying to hide the stupid smile that’s been stuck to your face since last night. your coat is too warm for indoors but your hands are cold, so you hold your coffee tighter. and then you see it. your desk. something’s different. sitting neatly on top of your keyboard is a brand-new stapler. blue, shiny, absolutely unnecessary. you freeze. right beside it, a yellow post-it. his handwriting. neat. almost too neat. “thought you could use one that wasn’t cursed.     —jeno :)” you almost laugh. it’s such a him thing to do—dry humor disguised as helpfulness. but your heart? it’s fluttering like it’s stuck in a romcom scene, an angelic choir singing along in tandem. you reach out and pick up the stapler.you didn’t even need one nor were you going to use one. but you want to keep this one forever. cherish it. maybe even pass it on as an heirloom.

just then, you hear someone clear their throat. “new office romance i should know about?” you don’t even need to turn around. jaemin. of course. loud, nosy, iced-americano jaemin. “shut up,” you say instantly, trying to sound bored. your cheeks are already heating up. but he walks past you, grinning like the devil, a bounce in his step like he’s in on the joke you’re still figuring out. and then—your gaze drifts. to the cubicle across. there he is. jeno. typing. or pretending to. his posture is the same—back straight, eyes on the screen—but his fingers are still on the home row keys, just gliding about. and when he feels your eyes, he glances up. It's brief, barely a second. but he smiles. like last night wasn’t just dinner. like it meant something.

a few hours later, a message pops up.

jeno lee “did the new one pass inspection?”

you “it’s still under review by the council. but i think they approve ;)”

jeno lee “let me know if it jams. i’ll personally fix it.”

you smile. a full smile this time. the kind that makes you reach for your coffee, lean back in your chair, and breathe in like something in your world has shifted.

jeno 💗 “what’s your go-to coffee order?”

you “anything except that poison jaemin drinks every day. ‘i like my coffee as dark as my soul’ ahh guy.”

jeno 💗 “haha.” “noted.”

the next morning there’s a cup of coffee on your desk, with yet another post-it note. “it’s the new specialty at a cafe near my place. i thought you’d like it :)”

that was truly the best coffee you had ever tasted. and maybe he started getting it for you every day. ────

WEDNESDAY | 9:00 PM

it's another day at the office. rain taps gently on the windows, a soft drumbeat to the silence of overworked employees and abandoned coffee mugs. you’re still at your desk & so is he. the fluorescent lights overhead are dimmer than usual, humming low like they’re tired too. you stretch your back, glancing at the clock. 9:04 pm. “still here?” comes his voice. you look up to see jeno leaning on the edge of his cubicle wall, sleeves rolled up, tie a little loosened. “so are you,” you shoot back. he smiles. “want company for the walk back?” you nod before your brain catches up.

the streetlights blur against the wet pavement, reflecting like oil paint smudged across the road. jeno’s shoulder brushes yours every few seconds—neither of you move away. he talks about the weird way jaemin eats ramen. you laugh. you tell him about your favorite childhood cartoon. he says he watched it too, and suddenly it’s three blocks later and you’re still talking. at a red light, you both stop. he glances down at you. you glance up. it’s a pause so charged you swear the rain quiets. “...you looked really pretty today,” he says suddenly. his voice isn’t confident or smooth—he says it like a secret. you don’t respond right away. just tuck your hair behind your ear, your face heating. he notices. the light turns green and you simply walk on. on reaching your apartment building you stop at the steps. he’s still holding the umbrella. you don’t say anything. he doesn’t either. there’s that moment again—that pause like the world might tilt if either of you moves. “i’m really glad you came to dinner that night,” he finally says, voice quieter than before. “been wanting to talk to you properly for months.” you blink. “...really?” jeno chuckles. “you had the office’s only decent stapler. of course i had to make a move.” you laugh—nervous and shy and full of everything you’ve been holding back. he takes a step closer. just one. not too much. “but also,” he adds, and this time his voice is a little more sure, “i like you. not just the lunch break, passing-notes kind. the kind where i want to sit and mindlessly watch silly romcoms with you, the kind where i want to walk you home every day and make sure you had dinner. the kind where - " he goes on. but words fall on deaf ears. you feel your heart clench, sweet and sharp. you’re about to respond when— “...so, if you’re okay with it,” he continues, scratching the back of his neck, “can i officially take you out sometime? like, not just coffee machine and post-it flirting. a real date.” you blink. once. twice. your face is warm. your chest feels like it’s glowing. “...yes.” you don’t even hesitate. his smile is soft. wide. genuine. and when he hands you the umbrella and waves goodnight, walking back with his hands in his pockets and a quiet bounce in his step. you think, maybe this started with a stapler. but it’s gonna end with something a lot more permanent. ──── BONUS : FEW WEEKS LATER | 2:00 PM

you, jeno, and jaemin were perched on the edge of the rooftop, paper lunchboxes balanced on your laps, chinese takeout - courtesy of jeno. the breeze is nice, the sky a little overcast, and jaemin's halfway through an enthusiastic rant about the company’s new vending machine layout.

“and like .. why did they move the green tea to the bottom row? what kind of criminal.. oh, thanks man.” he says as jeno hands him a napkin mid-rant, like muscle memory.

you say while giggling, “you guys are like an old married couple.”

jeno chokes on his rice. you pat his back helpfullly , still giggling.

jaemin just shrugs. “what can i say? i raised him well.”

jeno glares at him. mouthing ' stop. talking.' he knew jaemin could slip up any moment. for he always did.

jaemin does not stop talking.

“i mean, not to brag, but if it weren’t for me, he’d still be hovering awkwardly near your desk pretending he needed your stapler.”

you blink. “wait. what?”

jeno drops his chopsticks.

jaemin freezes. realizes.

“oh..." he mutters.

your jaw drops. “waitwaitwait. you told him to borrow my stapler?”

“in my defense,” jaemin says, holding up both hands, “i was just trying to save him from dying of heart failure every time you walked past. it was either that or fake a paper jam crisis.”

jeno is silent. fully hiding behind his lunchbox now.

you slowly turn to him. “is this true?”

“…maybe,” he mumbles.

you snort, trying to hold in your laughter. “oh my god. so all this time..”

“don’t act like it wasn’t genius!” jaemin interrupts. “you’re welcome, by the way. this whole slow-burn coffee shop romcom office love story? all me.”

jeno groans. “can i push him off the roof.”

you lean into jeno’s shoulder, grinning. “you should’ve just said hi.”

he sighs. “i wanted to. but every time i tried, you were always typing so fast. and glaring at your screen like it personally insulted your ancestors.”

you snort. “fair.”

jaemin raises his water bottle. “to true love, born from borrowing office supplies.”

jeno snatches it from him and takes a sip without asking. you think that’s revenge enough. read more ❤︎ please like, reblog and let me know your reviews (๑>◡<๑) this work is a piece of fiction and is not intended to reflect the real personalities, actions, or beliefs of the individuals portrayed. the idols mentioned are used purely as fictional characters for storytelling purposes. no harm, disrespect, or objectification is intended. everything written here is entirely imaginative and not based on real-life events or relationships.

[lokischocolatefountain]

Warning || Men Like Me

Masterlist

Fandom: The Last of Us Pairing: Joel Miller x Virgin!Reader Rating: 18+ Warnings: girth age gap, virgin!reader, eventual loss of virginity (not in this chapter), gratuitous descriptions of Joel Miller's body, somewhat creepy!Joel, fetishization of youth, dom!Joel, breaking and entering, playboy magazine, objectification, fingering, sexual discoveries. Word count: 6.2k Summary: Joel's warnings about what men like him would do to girls like you only makes you want him more. A/N: Back in the depths of hell again, you guys. Now this isn't the most depraved thing I've written by any means but it's up there. Come say hi in my chat or inbox, I'd love to talk. Keep a look out for follow up parts and pleeeeease give me comments. I am very very desperate.

Joel Miller was a bad man. That much he knew. 

Even as he fixed taps and renovated houses that were falling apart, he could see the blood on his hands. The very hands that packed lunches for Ellie snapped necks, pistol whipped men, stole from a starving child so he could feed his grown brother. But there were lows even he didn’t stoop down to. 

Not that he didn’t have the opportunity. Men always did. And in this world, opportunities had only tripled. Even the Boston QZ, as strict as it was, had an underground brothel. He knew Tess to frequent it and never asked questions. Sometimes she needed to bury her face between a good pair of thighs and wrap her lips around a pretty pussy, and this wasn’t something he could give her. There was a lot he couldn’t give her.

Being in Jackson should’ve civilized him. It did in many ways. He’d reverted to the southern gentleman with table manners. ‘Yes, Ma’am’ spilled out of his lips effortlessly when he spoke to women. He held the door for anyone walking in after him. He even went to Church– sorry, the multifaith house of worship–to help renovate. 

That was where his troubles began. 

There was no point in him going where people prayed. Being back in civilization did not erase his decades of disbelief in a cruel God who would take his baby and keep him on this accursed Earth. But he did because he was back to being a contractor and Tommy asked him to go fix up the pews instead of him. He didn’t have much time, being a new dad and all.

He was on his knees checking out the rotting wood and evaluating how much wood he’d need for building new ones when he was confronted by a pair of legs and a sweet voice. Yours. 

“Lemonade, Mister Miller?” 

He looked up, his eyes traveling up your legs, bare until he got to your knees where the hem of your flowery skirt sat. Pure, unblemished knees, never taken a fall, didn’t fucking creak, and never knelt before anyone but God. You looked down sweetly, eyes wide and innocent like a newborn cow. Everyone had a kind of darkness about them in this world. Everyone except the kids who didn’t know a world outside the insular walls of Jackson. And you, it turned out, even though you weren’t a kid.

He wiped his sweat off with the greasy rag he carried and looked up at you once again. You had a pitcher and an empty glass in your hands. A sweet smile on your lips and hair falling down your shoulders and reaching your breasts. A yellow ribbon sat in a bow where your neckline dipped between your breasts, adding to the innocence of your look.

“Yes please, Ma’am. Thank you,” he said, giving you a nod. Your pretty plush lips curled up, a giggle escaping them as you poured him a glass of lemonade. 

His hand brushed against yours as he accepted the glass, his hand too large to curl around it without making contact with you. You giggled again before retracting your hand and occupying it with adjusting your hair. 

“I’m younger than you, you know? Don’t have to call me Ma’am.” 

“Just being polite. Ma’am.” He took the glass to his lips, mindful to take only a small sip instead of downing it in desperation. Another adjustment to make when food was no longer a scarcity. Sweet, sour, and salty danced on his tongue before it glided down his throat. Just a sip refreshed him. And the sight of a nice girl didn’t hurt the cause either. 

It’d been so long since he had a nice refreshing glass of lemonade. Summers meant worse infestations of infected, not the barbecues, lemonades, and swimming of past. When surviving each hour was under threat, small luxuries like this became out of reach of even one’s dreams.

“Well, guess I should call you Sir then,” you said, leaning against the wall. You held the pitcher up to your chest and the tails of the ribbon on your chest dipped into it, the soft shiny yellow turning dark, tainted.

His mouth watered and fucking hell, it wasn’t the lemonade you just gave him. He took a sip of the drink and licked his lips, imagining how you’d taste if he wrapped his large hand around your neck and pressed his chapped lips to your plush ones. Better yet, if he held your legs apart and devoured you other pair of lips until you were leaking down his mouth. Would you call him Sir then? His cock twitched in his jeans as he pictured you bent over one of these pews, your skirt pushed up and his hand in your hair as he slid his cock in your hole. 

Jesus fucking Christ! What the fuck was wrong with him? 

“Made the lemonade yourself?” He asked,  groaning as he managed to get himself back up on his feet. His knees creaked like the floorboards of the houses he renovated, but ultimately supported him as he stood. He towered over you, making you appear smaller, more fragile. 

“Depends. Do you like it?” 

“It’s wonderful, of course. Hot summer day like this…I really needed it,” he said, raising the glass up a little before taking another sip. 

“Well then yes, I did make it.”

He chuckled, feeling himself pulled in by your easy charisma. It was nice to have normal conversations like this once again. No agenda, no need for establishing himself as someone who wouldn’t hesitate to beat someone up if even mildly threatened. It was just…normal. 

“It’s very sweet, Ma’am. Like you I assume,” he added, mentally dusting off the part of his brain where he stored skills for conversing with pretty girls.

You laughed, holding your free hand up to your mouth to cover your lips that widened and revealed your teeth. 

“Is that the southern charm that I hear our townspeople talk about?” 

“They talk about my charm? I didn’t hear.” 

“Oh yes, they do… Joel Miller, charming pants off of everyone in town.”

“Pants? Well that’s disappointing. I was hoping I’d charmed some pretty skirts off.” 

“Lots of experience with that, Mister Miller?” you asked, sliding your hand over the soft fabric of the skirt of your dress. Such delicate fabric. He could fist the hem and give it one tug and it’d rip right off.

“More ‘n what you got for sure,” he said, loath to hint at how infrequent his encounters had become in the recent past. Tess died, he did a cross country hike with an annoying kid, he needed to maintain a good reputation in his new town. One buried after the other. Enough to leave a man with nothing but his fist and his imagination. He would kill for a fucking Playboy magazine. Literally. He’d killed for less.

“What do you know about how experienced I am?” 

“Been experiencing longer than you’ve been alive, Ma’am.” 

“Oh well. Nothing I can’t learn.” 

He laughed nervously and stuck his hand in his jeans pocket. Surely you couldn’t be flirting… Why would a young thing like this flirt with him? He was in his late fifties looking like mid sixties and you were… He didn’t know. Young.

“If you could teach me, Mister Miller. Give a girl some experience?”

“I’m sure you can find someone else.” 

“Oh. Not your type, am I?” you asked, and he deluded himself thinking you sounded disappointed. No chance. 

He didn’t have a type. Long time since he thought of frivolous shit like that. But you shouldn’t be his type. 

“There’s much more eligible men in town is what I’m saying,” he said, suddenly hesitant to lie. Lying had never been an issue for him. The right thing was to lie, say you weren’t his type so he wouldn’t cross lines. It’d been a long time since he did the right thing.

“I’ll be the decider of that,” you said with a shrug of your shoulder before taking the empty glass from him. “Have a good rest of the work day, Mister Miller.”

Later that night, he wrapped his fist around his cock in the privacy of his room. His mind flooded with images of you spread out for him, sweet lips and a sweeter pussy milking him. He couldn’t even recall the last time he was with a woman. It was Tess, of course. Sometime before she got thrown in FEDRA jail for the last time. Too fucking long ago.

Surely it was only because it’d been a long time since he got his dick wet. He’d never, in his entire life, pictured a woman so much younger spreading her legs for him. Sucking his cock. Crying out his name. How old was she even? Not past mid twenties for sure.

It was wrong, he knew, as white hot spend spurted out of his cock and covered his hand. A sour tang took over his mouth as the fog of unadulterated lust cleared up to reveal the ugliness in his head. He shuddered, feeling like something had crawled under his flesh. He hadn’t felt guilt like this in so long. 

Wrong, wrong, wrong. 

You weren’t even as old as his kid would be had she been alive. 

He’d known men like that back in the day. Grays in their hair and skin like old leather, but pretty young things old enough to be their daughter hanging off their arm. It was obvious that none of them kept these girls around for love or for their personality. It was always sex and the feeling of self-importance when a sweet young thing paid attention to balding heads, beer bellies and limp dicks that needed a blue pill to get up. 

Fucking disgusting. 

He began avoiding you whenever you happened to be in the same space. At the house of worship, the town clinic where you interned, trading days when people exchanged what they had for what they wanted. His eyes never met yours and he always quickly looked away when they stared too long at your uh…feminine features– pretty legs, cute ass, round tits. Where the fuck did you get sundresses anyway? Who kept that shit around in this world? 

He didn’t know that when he avoided you, you took note of him. When he took glances of your features, you memorized his for later in the night when you buried your head in your pillow and pushed your fingers inside your pussy to simulate what it must be like to be with a man. 

He was older. That much you knew from his grey hair, sun-damaged skin, and gait that exuded bone-deep weariness. You knew Tommy had just turned fifty. Hard to miss occasions that meant a free slice of cake from the canteen. Joel had to be in his mid-fifties at the very least. At first glance, he wasn’t what you’d consider handsome. There were younger men in town. Fit and muscular. Didn’t groan and scrunch up their faces when they got up. Didn’t have lines on their foreheads. No bags under their eyes. 

Yet there was something about Joel that was more entrancing. 

After your first meeting when you offered him lemonade, you made sure to visit under the guise of worship. You didn’t know much about religion and were conflicted about embracing a god. The only faith you had rested in your medical instruments and the medicines the town’s chemist concocted. But it was a nice place to meet people, to check on healing patients.

The visits were worth it for a glimpse of Joel’s large hands wrapped around his carpentry tools. When the sun was the hottest, he sometimes stripped down to his tank top, giving you a show better than any film played in the community theater. His broad back looked masculine enough in his flannel shirts. But you didn’t know desire like the first time you saw him in a white tank, showing off his muscular arms as sweat dripped down his tan skin.

When you pleasured yourself in your room, it took time, imagination, your fingers, and a lot of effort to make slick pool in your pussy. That day, all it took was the sight of Joel Miller working. You sat with your thighs pressed together, rubbing them against each other in the most inconspicuous little movements. 

Could it be blasphemy if the God who was supposedly orchestrating everything made this man take his shirt off in front of you?

It made no fucking sense. Joel was old. He looked like he woke up on the wrong side of the bed every goddamn day. He had been chewed up and spat out by whatever the fuck was outside Jackson these days. Hardened expressions, graying patchy beard, hands calloused from carpentry and decades of using weaponry. Features that only indicated a long life lived, not attractiveness.

You were supposed to be attracted to the soft, sweet ones like the guys in the worn out copies of romance stories that the previous inhabitant of your house stashed in the basement. Even his little brother would be a more reasonable target for your lust. Younger, taller, softer, head full of dark, silky hair with few grays. But you wanted Joel Miller with his rough graying beard that would prick your skin were you to cup his cheek like the women on the novel covers. 

Something about him just screamed Man. Something that none of the other guys in town had. There was nothing wrong with any of the other Jackson men, but none of them made you want to take the plunge and lose your virginity. It wasn’t the lack of offers, per se. You’d gotten looks from many eligible Jackson bachelors. You had drinks with a few of them. Dinner with fewer and shared a kiss with more than one. Alright, two. But anything beyond that had you trembling in anxiety. 

It wasn’t anything precious to you, virginity. But you’d waited so long. Focused so long only on survival and then helping to build this town and now training to become a doctor. Whatever passed for doctor these days. With all your life dedicated to everything but your love life, you simply had no experience. What if you messed up and they laughed? You knew anatomy, but that didn’t translate to practical stuff. What if you couldn’t make them feel good? You’d have to see the guy all the damn time in the small town. There would be no escaping the awkwardness.

Sure it was counterintuitive to keep pushing away sexual encounters because you had no experience. But you didn’t know what else to do. You were too old already to not have done anything. But each day that passed with you rejecting perfectly nice men meant you were getting even older for your first time. 

You didn’t know where Joel fit into your need for exploring your sexuality, but it didn’t hurt to stare. God knew everyone else in Jackson did. 

So you stared. Work with his carpentry tools. Riding on horseback into Jackson after patrol. Helping with the fucking sheep. Walking around with Tommy. Carrying his nephew around town. It should be inappropriate to be fantasizing about a man when he was doing something as innocent as carrying a baby. But seeing his large hand cradling the baby’s little head made you want to scream into your pillow and kick your legs. 

“You alright, sweetheart?” 

Your heart fluttered and you let out a nervous laugh at being caught. You smoothed out the wrinkles on your clothes just to make it look like you were alright. Unfortunately you were wearing a pair of fucking jeans. You didn’t even want to know how awkward you looked. 

“‘m alright, Mister Miller.” 

“Joel’s fine,” he said, rocking his nephew in his arms.

Oh fuck, his fucking arms!

“Oh I don’t know,” you said, fidgeting with a belt loop on your jeans. “Wouldn’t want to be impolite addressing you by your first name like that.”

He smiled, recalling your conversation from the house of worship when you called him Sir and had him fucking himself in the shower to the memory. “Ah. ‘cause I’m an old man,” he said, more as a reminder to himself to fucking behave. 

“You’re not that old…” you trailed, looking him over in a way that set fire to every inch of skin that you laid eyes on.

Behave, Miller. You’re out with your nephew. 

“That so?” he asked, eyebrow raised. 

“Mhmm. You don’t look a day over seventy.” 

He snorted, making Miles stir in his arms just a little. That stung a little. It shouldn’t. Your estimation of his age, whether you were serious or not, was reminder enough that he was too old to be lusting after you.

“Thanks. I’m actually eighty-two.” 

You giggled your pretty little giggle, lowering your gaze to the ground and looking back up only when it had turned into a wide grin. “How old are you actually?”

“Old. Fifty six.” 

“Fifty-six isn’t that old…” you trailed as you brought a hand up to his bicep. Joel gulped, praying to the non-existent God that you would stop before praying to the same God that you would keep your hand right there. God answered his second prayer. You squeezed, licked your lips and looked up at him with your doe eyes.

“Checking if the hardware is still working, Doctor?” 

“I’m not a doctor yet.” 

“When do you become one then? Ain’t no Harvard handing out medical degrees in this town.”

“Howard?” you asked, squinting at him. Ah, of course you didn’t know. Harvard didn’t mean the same thing to you. Now it was just like every other building in Boston. Run over by infected. These ones were just the nerdy kind with glasses on.

“That was a thing, too. But I said Harvard. They were big universities back then.”

“Ah. Did you go there?” You asked, with no malice or bite. Oh, bless your heart. No one expected a dummy like him to have gone to university at all, much less Harvard. No one in his family had gone. Sarah was meant to be the first.

“Yeah. Traded some oxy and threw molotovs at clickers in the campus.” 

You rewarded him with a giggle and that was incentive enough for him to keep going. “Guys like me didn’t get into Harvard. Or Howard. Didn’t even go to community college. I finished high school and got a job in construction.” 

“You didn’t go to uh…construction college?” You asked, cocking your head and raising an eyebrow as though testing out the term.

“No such thing. Well, there were civil engineering programs, but I just learned on the job.” 

“Like me.” 

“Guess so. I see you reading from all those fat medical books. But there’s no need to study any books in construction. ‘cept if you wanna be an engineer or architect or something, which I’m not.” 

“Maybe you should write one. We could all do with some knowledge from before. It’s important to document it, pass it on to Ellie and little Miles over there.” 

“I ain’t writing books, sweetheart. Don’t think I even remember how to write much. I’ll just keep to fixing things up in this town. So, if you need some help with your place…I’m happy to help.” It was the least he could do. Maybe as some kind of penance for having impure thoughts about you. Or as a fucked up trade for starring in the mental images he conjured to jack off in the shower.

“There is something, actually. But I don’t have anything to trade for, so I’ll wait until I do,” you said, clasping your hands behind your back and swaying in place in an endearing manner.

“Nonsense. You patched me up just last week. You’ve done enough for the town’s health to not have to trade for anything ever again.” 

“Well, no. That’s not how it should be… It’s people’s health. Can’t put a price on that.”

“Believe it or not, health had a steep price back in the day. Cost four thousand something just to give birth. Double that if they had to cut you open.” And that was just how much it cost when Sarah was born. He was sure it had only gone up by 2003. If he hadn’t worked his ass off, there was no way he could’ve escaped debt. It helped that his Ma and his then wife’s parents helped with childcare. Would’ve been even more expensive without that.

“Damn. I don’t know how much that is, since…y’know we don’t have money now. But that sounds like a big number. It shouldn’t cost anything just to be born.” 

“Tell me about it,” he said, shaking his head. “But listen. Anything you want fixed, I’ll help out. You can give me something later if you’re worried. I know Ellie’s always on the look for new books to read and you seem to have a lot of them.” 

“Nothing Ellie would like. Not like the special limited edition of Savage Starlight or anything. Just medical textbooks and romance novels.” 

“We could trade for the lemonade from that afternoon,” he insisted, desperate to do something for you. Take care of you as you took care of everyone who walked into the clinic be it papercuts or a fucking knife in their abdomen. 

“Alright. Trade for the lemonade it is then,” you said, giving in to his pressure.

“Now tell me. What d’ya need fixed?” 

⌘⌘⌘

It had been a few days since Joel promised to fix your shower for you. Each time he came by and rang your doorbell, you hid somewhere away from your windows. When he caught sight of you in public, you quickly walked away or engaged in conversation with someone else. You didn’t need shit fixed. Everything in your house was perfectly alright. Tommy and his guys had given the place a complete makeover just a couple months before Joel and Ellie arrived. 

You were no paragon of honesty, but you didn’t make lying a habit. There were a few white lies here and there and this was meant to be one of them. It just didn’t fucking hit you that if you lied to a contractor that your shower was broken, he would eventually come over to fucking fix it. All your desperate sex starved brain wanted that day was for Joel Miller to come use his tools in your room and flex those muscles while at it.

So invested were you in that particular fantasy that as you unwound after a long shift at the clinic, it was with Joel’s beefy arms in mind. You stood in front of your mirror, taking in your reflection. One of the magazines you’d found in a box under your bed laid open on the dressing table. Playboy. Entertainment for Men. Each had a scantily clad woman on the cover. And many more inside. 

You made comparisons to yourself and the woman in the center page of the issue.

She stood in front of a dressing table too, but much different from how you stood. Her legs were on either side of her dressing table chair and her hands on the top of it. Between her arms were breasts, big and round and with smooth skin. They didn’t have any marks on them like yours. No moles, no stretch marks. Just plain. And she just stood there, soft brown hair down, tickling the top of her breasts and her lips parted as she gazed at you. No, at the men she was meant to entertain in this men’s entertainment magazine. All she had on was panties that went high up to her flat belly that connected to high transparent socks.

You reached behind your back and unclasped your bra, wishing that you had something nicer like the woman on the cover of another one of the magazines. Bright red and showing off her breasts wonderfully, but pulled down to reveal almost everything. What was the point of a bra then if it didn’t cover or support anything? Entertainment, you decided. Men seemed to be very entertained by breasts. 

Many a man had stared at yours even though you had them behind layers of fabric unlike the naked women of the magazines. Many had conversations with them instead of your face. Some brushed up against them ‘accidentally’. Joel thought he was being covert, but you felt his brown eyes rove all over them. You thought maybe that he too would brush up against it sometime, but he never did. Maybe entertainment stopped at just looking, as in the magazines. 

You wondered if Joel sought out men’s entertainment magazines like this. He was from before everything went to shit, so it was very possible that he did. Did he like the women in these pages, sticking their asses out and looking through the pages at him? Would he be entertained if he saw you like this? 

You didn’t know that if you turned your head to your bedroom door, you would have your answer. Joel’s cock strained against his already tight jeans as he stood awestruck by your figure. He swallowed as you held on to the top of the chair and lifted your knees, one after the other and placed them on the plush seat. You arched your back, a little too much at first before reducing the curve. Your ass stuck out enticingly and he didn’t know whether to grab, squeeze, slap, or spread your cheeks apart and fuck your ass. 

He should leave. 

It was stupid of him to walk into your house with a box of plumbing tools to fix your shower when you hadn’t yet given him a date or time for it. Plus you were avoiding him. Running away with your little friends and picking up stuff to hide your face from his view. He was plenty sure that when he’d rung your doorbell, you weren’t always away from home. 

He should leave. 

Fixing the shower could wait. He could confront you some other day. 

But you were putting on such a pretty little show in nothing but your panties and he was only a man. A bad one. 

His boots stayed put on your hardwood floors as you enjoyed yourself in front of the mirror. You spread your knees and let your fingers between your thighs, eyes closed, lips parted and low whines escaping your lips in just a few minutes. He palmed his growing erection over his jeans, consequences of being caught be damned. He was a foul beast already. What bad was another sin on the list? Besides, you were the one who’d left the fucking door open. 

Your soft whimpers grew into moans as you brought yourself closer and he forced his feet to stay put despite their urge to walk up to you and give you something to really moan about. 

“Fuu– mmm Joel, pleeease.”

He let out a gasp, all his restraint flying out the window as soon as he heard his name from your lips. You couldn’t actually be doing this… There had to be another Joel in town. Younger, better looking, smarter.

Your voice grew needy and the pitch higher as you kept at it. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! Gimme it, Sir.” 

No, it couldn’t be anyone else. 

Joel toed his boots off and took quiet steps towards you, emboldened by the filth that spilled from your lips. If this old man was what you wanted, he wouldn’t stop himself from reaping the benefits. He wasn’t a goddamn saint. Never was. 

He stopped in front of you, surprised you still hadn’t sensed his presence. As though the universe heard his thoughts, it had you open your eyes. You gasped as soon as you saw him and buckled off the chair, but Joel caught you. You shuddered, unable to cope with the sudden touch. 

“J-Joel?” 

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he said, touching your cheek with the back of his hand. You whined, your body molding itself against his chest. You brought a hand to his arm, feeling the rock hard muscles underneath his sleeves and your other hand worked between your legs.  

Your fingers no longer felt adequate as you felt his large fingers on your cheek. “Want you, please,” you whined, desperate to return to the edge where you had been right before you saw him. 

“You don’t know what you’re asking of me…” he spoke dangerously, soft brown eyes clouded with a kind of desire you had longed to see in him for weeks. 

“Want you…want you to be with me,” you repeated stupidly, your desperation clouding your senses too much for you to say anything else. While in the past you only wanted to get rid of your virginity, your goals had become more specific with his arrival. You wanted him. You wanted his big hands and broad shoulders, to hold on to them as you rode him. To watch his grumpy expressions turn to ecstasy under you. 

“Tell me not to touch you,” he said, his tone low and almost threatening. Any other threat from him, you would’ve heeded. But not this one. 

“Touch me!” 

It was as though something in him snapped at your words. While darkness only loomed over him before, it now completely took over.The hand that previously only caressed your cheek now wrapped itself around your neck. Before you could completely process the move, his other hand slapped yours away. He replaced two of your puny fingers with his middle finger, eliciting a strained moan from you. 

“Touching yourself to a Playboy magazine, huh?” 

You only nodded, unable to form words now that a fantasy of yours had finally come to life.

“Dirty little thing…Thought you were a nice girl and all. Helpin’ out at the clinic, head buried in books all the time. Turns out you actually got your head in dirty magazines.” 

You whined, your pussy clenching and gushing around his finger at the way he was speaking to you. The same man who insisted on calling you Ma’am despite your protests was calling you a dirty girl now. The veil of respectability seemed to have floated away at the sight of you naked and pleasuring yourself. Had you known that this was all you needed to get Joel Miller to touch you, you would’ve done it much sooner.

He added another finger, the girth of him enough to stretch you more than you had done for yourself. You brought a hand up to his shoulder and fisted his shirt, needing something to anchor yourself to. 

“You ever been taken by a man, sweetheart?” He asked, his tone too cool and casual for what he was doing to you. You shuddered, partly from his phrasing– taken, he said. Taken. Like you were a thing. Like the women in the magazines positioned so uncomfortably just so their breasts could look a certain way for the picture. Printed on the cover page with the words Entertainment for Men written on top. You shook your head, feeling small as you confessed it for the first time. 

“Any man?” 

“N-no,” you managed to breathe out, whimpering at the way the bulge beneath his jeans twitched at your simple answer. He took a step to position himself behind you, letting you lean your back against his chest. The angle at which he touched your pussy changed, opening your world up to a wonderful new kind of pleasure. 

“A virgin. Pretty young things like you ain’t for men like me,” he whispered in your neck, making you shiver. His thumb roamed between your legs as far as they could reach, caressed you gently, his softness with you contradicting his warning about men like him. The hand around your neck slithered down your torso, cold air forcing you to face your new desire of having your breath kept hostage. 

He took your left breast in hand, squeezing the flesh like someone starved would hold on to a piece of bread. It felt more like a punctuation to the warning he issued than a part of sex. Just then, his thumb between your legs stopped its search, stopping a little above the fingers inside you.

A moan you didn’t recognize as yours at first filled the room and you buckled forward. Blunt nails sunk into the flesh of your breast as he saved you before you could fall. He hauled you back up, making you collide against his chest. 

You gasped and quickly grabbed the hand between your legs, the sensation too intense for you to know what to do with. His thumb kept on, rolling over something there that set your person on fire. 

“Fuuuck! Joel– I– I– hnnng–”

“I know, sweetheart,” he crooned, keeping at whatever the hell he was doing to make you feel this way. 

“Please… I don’t– what was that?” 

You felt his chest rumble before you heard his laughter. Heat rose to your face and your throat felt strained though there was no hand around it anymore. 

“Never touched your clit? Do you even know what that is?” He mocked, the cruelty somehow not repelling you from him. He forced you to look up at him. Your heart lurched at how close you were to his face. You could see every gray hair, every minute blemish and line.

“Don’t know your own fucking body but you want a man? You don’t know what you’re handing me on a silver platter. I ain’t like the other guys in town. I walked across the fucking country and lemme tell ya, there’s no pretty things like you out there. I’m starved.” 

“Take me, then,” you begged, using his own words from earlier. “Please. Whatever you– a-aaah!” 

He ramped up the pressure on that spot– your clit– and with it, took your ability to speak coherently. It was as though he’d done it on purpose. You hated it. To be so bereft of control. To be a puppet in someone’s hand. For someone to acquaint themselves with parts of you that you didn’t know of. But it was too much to fight, so you let go. Let him play with you. Take you. Like a thing.

You renounced control of your lips too, his name slipping out effortlessly like it did when he caught you. Then you renounced what was left of your dignity and began begging relentlessly. For what, you didn’t know. In his hand, you’d gone from woman to pupper, your strings pulled by a man, your voice now his. Sounds that would be indiscernible from that of a wounded animal emanated from somewhere deep within you. 

Perhaps none of this was real. Why else did your own voice grow so distant from you? Why did your vision become blurry? Your thighs shook uncontrollably and your heart felt like it was beating out of your chest. Your eyes clenched shut, depriving you of your blurred vision. Your toes curled. You wanted to shrink into yourself, shrink away from all this goodness. You went higher and higher, soaring like a bird. Every nerve ending in your body felt electrified, awoken like one switch turned on every light on last winter’s Christmas tree. 

You let out a loud cry, the soaring bird in you reaching its peak before beginning its fall to the ground. You could hear your breaths again, labored but doing everything to stabilize itself. Your thighs still shook. Your chest rose and fell. A hand caressed your hand. Behind you, something strong supported your back. Kept you from falling backward. 

“Joel…” 

“I know, I know…” he whispered into your head. You opened your eyes and looked up at him, surprised to see a softer visage. He picked you up off the chair like you’d seen him lift giant logs before. With ease. You didn’t protest as he carried you. Didn’t protest when he laid you out on your bed. 

He bent down and picked something up. No questions, no instructions. He simply spread your leg away from the other. Cold air touched the gushing mess dripping out of you and you shivered, feeling a sudden need to cover yourself but unable to defy him. His hand was on your pussy again. His hardened, calloused fingers behind a soft fabric this time. He wiped upwards, collecting the mess he made out of you. When he lifted the fabric up, you realized it was your panties. 

He tucked it into the pocket of his jeans and then looked back at your face, the intensity of his gaze making you want to run. Problem was your weak legs wouldn’t take you anywhere. You didn’t screw your eyes shut. You didn’t pull your blanket to conceal yourself. You looked back at him, defiant. Like you were trying to prove something. I can handle a man like you. 

“Be a good girl from now.” 

That and a condescending pat on your pussy and he was gone.

⌘

Part 2

[fixated-cookies]

im kinda thinkin about.... hypnosis and smilk.... smth abt the process specifically of taking over and invading your mind.. slowly giving into it even if youre resisting the effects its having on your mind, its inevitable that he'll win and you'll succumb to his control and influence over you... your mind may be foggy, but it's so perfectly empty and moldable now... what were you doing again? do you even care?

smth about being unable to look away from his eyes once he starts it; even if you look away, something will draw you back, and it gets stronger as it goes on... at first, you can physically turn away (though you'll get dragged back by some invisible force), but eventually you cant even rip your heard away from his gaze. smth about it being unable to be stopped by anyone other than himself once he starts it... no matter how far from you he is (as long as he's well... in sightline)

honestly you can like. think abt this in any context you want . i just.... really like the concept of hypnosis with him..... its captivating to me (hah) .... sorry for the essay in your inbox damn

Anon the reason why this was rotting in my askbox for so long was because I needed to give it justice hahaha, hypnosis is totally in character for someone like shadow milk cookie, and I love it.

WARNING- slight yandere, hypnosis

Hmm, I'm wondering how it would start, he would obviously make it a game, maybe a game of truth or dare, hm? Just a little bit of lollygagging to get rid of his boredom.

So, when he asked— “Truth or Dare?”—

You made the horrible mistake of choosing dare.

His grin widened, all teeth.“Ohhh, you’re feeling bold tonight! How delightful! Now, let’s see…” He tapped a finger against his chin, pretending to think. You should have been nervous. You should have backed out. But you didn’t.

I dare you… to look into my eyes and not look away.”

Simple, right?

You almost laughed. Thats its? Thats all?

"Ah-ah, don’t look so relieved~! There’s a catch, of course. You must hold my gaze until I say you can look away. Break eye contact, and you lose."

You scoffed. What was he playing at? You weren’t afraid of a staring contest. Getting into position you held yourself steady as he looked overly excited.

For a while, it felt like a normal challenge. You stared, he stared, and time stretched between you both. But then… something changed. The air felt thicker. Your body heavier. You blinked once. It felt like it took longer than it should have to open your eyes again. You swallowed. Something felt off.

Your limbs felt distant like you weren’t quite inside your body anymore. You tried to look away—But your head wouldn’t move. "I...I-" "Tsk, tsk… You’re not trying to look away, are you? Ohh, but I can see that dazed look in your eyes already… how precious!" He started to scoot closer. Not fast. Not abrupt. No, he took his time, savoring the way your body twitched ever so slightly. How your breath caught, your fingers tightening into trembling fists against the floor. Your head refused to move. Your body felt so distant, like a marionette with cut strings, a doll that could only watch as its puppeteer inched nearer.

Your vision wavered, the edges blurring as if reality itself was losing focus. His eyes were all you could see. How could this happen? you were so sure he didn't have...any malicious...intent—huh...? What was going on...?—No, you hadn’t! You had to resist, you had to—"Mmm, that’s a good look on you… so unfocused, so lost…" He suddenly interrupted your thoughts.

You blinked, but the action felt slow, heavy, like your body was moving through water. You knew—somewhere, deep down—that this was wrong. That you should snap out of it. But… that was so difficult. Thinking was… so hard. Your lips parted, but no words came out. Only a quiet, dazed sigh.

Shadow Milk Cookie smiled, only for it to falter as your eyesight ripped away from him violently, a frustrated groan escaping you as you squeezed your eyes shut out of defiance. "Oh? You still have some fight left in you?" His voice slithered through the air, a mocking lilt woven into his amusement. How predictable. How pathetic. Impossibly close now, his presence, looming, suffocating—but when his hands cupped your cheeks, you knew there was no escape. His palms were cool, but his grip was unyielding.

"Really now, I thought you were smarter than this." His thumbs trailed lower, brushing over your lips with featherlight strokes. "Oh, my dear, sweet fool…" His voice dipped into a breathy murmur, mismatched eyes drinking in every flicker of your resolve. "...I wonder... how long will that last?"

His grip on your cheeks tightened—just enough for his thumbs to press against your skin, coaxing you, urging you—until your lashes fluttered. A sliver of light slipped through.

And the moment your gaze met his—

The air in your lungs vanished. And oh, how he grinned.

"Mmm… there it is."

His voice was nothing but a purr, smooth and saccharine as he drank in your struggle. His grip softened, shifting to cradle your face so delicately—as if he hadn’t just crushed your resistance in the palm of his hand.

"Much easier when you don’t fight, isn’t it?"

His thumbs stroked your cheeks, his tone mocking, indulgent—but there was something darker beneath it. "Go on, little puppet…" His breath ghosted over your lips as his mismatched eyes pulled you deeper, deeper, deeper. "Be good for me, yeah?" He murmurs lowly Before you could even process it, his lips were on yours—slow, deliberate, consuming. A kiss meant to unravel, to claim. His fingers pressed gently into your skin, holding you there, grounding you— or perhaps, chaining you.

And when he finally pulled away, he didn’t need to command you to look at him this time.

Because you already were.

A single finger tapped lightly against your forehead as if to mock the emptiness settling in. His victory.

"See? Much better when you don’t think."

--

you guys, rate my hypnosis writing I need it!! These ideas are just sooo juicy.

[luxcuriousao3]

Fevered Mistakes

Summary: Ghost, a formidable Alpha, is captured and dosed with rut inducers. You are the omega he's tossed into a cell with. WC: 3429 Warnings: a/b/o, graphic nonconsensual sex, nonconsensual drugging, unprotected PIV sex, referenced torture/experimentation, blood, vomit, death, hurt no comfort, background ghoap, POV switches denoted by triple asterisks (***) Notes: Based off the first half of this post that I made a bit ago. Ngl, I don't really like how this one turned out, but y'all were begging for it so, so I feel bad just letting it rot in my google docs lol. There are two scrapped versions of a second chapter that would make this fic farrrrr less angsty, but idk if I'm ever gonna continue this, so I'm treating this like it's a one-shot with the warnings. If I ever do post a continuation, it will be linked on my masterlist, so you can check for it there. And hey, maybe if y'all share your thoughts about this in my inbox or whatever, it might entice the brainworms again lol. Taglist: @captainsherlockwinchester110283

There was a girl in the cell.

She was small and soft in the way that almost all omegas were, though it was her scent that really gave her status away. Sweet and alluring but soured by fear, it invaded his nostrils and made him all the more dazed. The blow to his head, the one that had landed him in this situation, would have been hard enough to kill him, had he not been an Alpha.

He’d been sloppy. Let his feelings for Johnny get in the way of procedure. But seeing his beta, laid out on the floor, bleeding from his head, still as a corpse… he couldn’t have controlled himself if he tried. And at that point, he hadn’t wanted to try.

He’d gotten distracted, and he’d paid the price.

It had been three days since he'd been captured, by his best estimate. It was hard to measure, between the head injury and being kept in a room with no windows. All he had to go off of was how often someone came in to torture him for information. He never gave any up, of course. Even compromised, he never would. He'd been trained far better than that.

Still, he wasn’t in very good shape. Beaten to hell and back, his head scrambled… his feet dragged uselessly as he was pressed up against the bars, one of his captors unlocking the cuffs on his wrists while the other two kept him restrained. The fourth jammed a syringe into his neck, injecting him with some unknown substance. Ghost tried to break free, to throw a punch or a kick, anything, but his reflexes were sluggish, his thoughts painfully slow. All he succeeded in doing was annoying them, and he got an elbow to the back of his neck for the trouble.

He was no omega, couldn’t be immobilized by a simple scruffing, but fuck if that shit didn’t still hurt like a bitch. He collapsed to the concrete floor of the cell with an animalistic howl, and the sourness in the omega’s scent spiked, her heart rate speeding up. Ghost couldn’t find it in himself to care—the very last of rational thought was beginning to abandon him as the pain spread from the back of his neck throughout his entire body, growing unbearable as it reached his groin. He felt like there was fire raging just beneath his skin, and his senses sharpened as his dark gaze locked onto the wide-eyed omega curled up in the corner, neck cracking unsettlingly with the speed at which he turned. He had time for only one more thought before instincts took over, his heart dropping out his arse as dread turned the blood in his veins to ice before it began to boil all over again.

Rut inducers.

***

When you woke up, you were escorted to the cell in which you spend your heats. That confused you, since your next heat wasn’t supposed to be for another month at least.

It also terrified you.

Though you didn’t remember much of what happened during your heats, you did remember the pain. The desperate, burning need for an Alpha’s knot, and the aching, gaping emptiness when you were denied it, the only thing that could bring you any relief. This cell held nothing but bad memories, and you didn’t want to be anywhere near it.

But you had no choice. For as long as you could remember, you did as you were told, the way a good omega should. In your sleep, you thought maybe you saw glimpses of a time when things were different, when there were no scientists in white coats and men and women in military uniforms controlling your life. But you knew those were just dreams. None of it was real.

You sat on the thin mattress in the cold, dank cell for hours before something finally happened that could explain why you were there. A man was brought in—massive and with a terrifying skull mask on his face—and you barely had to take a whiff of him as he was shoved into your cell with you to know that he was an Alpha. There was that familiar smell of damp, scorched earth after a lightning strike, and you knew from the intensity of it that he was angry. No, not just angry. Furious. The very air reeked of electricity and burning plastic, overwhelming any hint of his natural scent. This was an Alpha that was ready to rip, rend, tear, kill. And you were stuck alone in a cell with him.

“Не сопротивляйтесь,” one of the uniformed men told you, expression entirely unsympathetic. It was almost worse than the look of sadistic, scientific glee on the face of the white coat next to him. “Ты сделаешь только хуже.”

Don’t fight back. You’ll only make it worse.

Your eyes widened, and you barely had a chance to shake your head before the unfamiliar Alpha was on you, grabbing your ankle in a brutal grip and dragging you away from the corner you’d curled up in. You screamed in pain as you felt the bone snap like a twig under his large palm, instinctively hitting your hands against his broad chest as you tried to fight him off. If you had been in heat, you wouldn’t have cared, wouldn’t have even felt the pain from him breaking you, would have spread your legs and begged him to knot you. But you weren’t, and so your survival instincts overtook those of your omega. You knew you would be punished later for disobeying, but at the moment, you didn’t care. Anything was better than being knotted by the feral Alpha on top of you. He would maul you to death while he fucked you, you just knew it.

The Alpha grabbed your wrists in one hand, pinning them above your head. The other ripped your shirt off, causing your back to arch and your tits to spill out of your bra. He buried his face in your neck, inhaling deeply and letting out a satisfied growl. You tried to headbutt him, and he snarled in your face, wrapping a hand around your throat and squeezing tight enough to make your vision go black around the edges in less than ten seconds. By the time you caught your breath and were able to think again, his hands were busy yanking down your pants and underwear in one harsh tug. You let out a hoarse shriek of fear, flipping onto your belly to try and crawl away, ignoring the searing pain in your shattered ankle. But that was your fatal mistake. His beefy palm met the back of your neck, fingers digging in as he lifted you slightly by it, his other hand coming around to roughly grope your breasts.

And you stopped.

You stopped moving, stopped screaming, you nearly stopped breathing. You were limp as a ragdoll as he scruffed you, utterly and completely paralyzed. You could do nothing but take it as he shoved your face into the dirty concrete, pried your legs apart, and forced himself inside you. You could feel the agonizing pain as his cock practically tore you in half, could feel the ice cold fear freezing every cell of your body, could feel his blunt nails digging into the ultra-sensitive skin of your nape. You could feel everything. But you couldn’t do anything to stop it.

It seemed to go on forever, and yet take no time at all. One second, you were pliant and supine beneath the Alpha as he pounded into you, his weight constricting your lungs and making it difficult to breathe. The next, the restrictive grip on your neck was gone, replaced by a sharp pain at the junction of it and your shoulder as his teeth sunk into your flesh. Into your mating gland. Your own screams were echoing in the tiny cell, now, no longer confined to your head.

“M’sorry, M’sorry, M’sorry,” a rough, wet voice chanted in your ear. It was the Alpha, speaking to you in English. You could understand it, even if you couldn't speak it. He was still on top of you, still inside you, his knot stretching you far beyond your limits. And yet he was… apologizing? You stopped screaming in your confusion, the terrified screeching replaced by the sound of your heaving sobs.

“M’sorry, M’so sorry, they dosed me, M’sorry,” the Alpha continued, voice slurred. You struggled to focus on his words, distracted by the liquid you could feel dripping down your thighs. It was probably blood, you realized distantly. His knot wouldn’t have let any of his seed escape. That’s what it was there for.

That, and to keep you from running.

The Alpha’s voice grew more and more gravelly as his knot began to deflate, his apologies interrupted by grunts as he began to move his hips again, thrusting in and out of you shallowly. You whined, clawing at the floor, trying to wriggle free, but he just settled nearly his entire weight on top of you.

“Don’ fight,” he growled, and you could tell from the strain in his voice that he was at least trying to resist his instincts. It didn’t make you feel any better, especially not when his fingers inched closer and closer to your nape again. “Don’t, or m’gonna have to— fuck, I don’t— fuckin’ be a good omega an’ take it— m’sorry, fuck— don’t fuckin’ fight me—”

You were still sobbing, shrieking like a dying thing with every quick, brutal snap of his hips against yours. Too out of it from being scruffed, you missed the warning in his jumbled plea threat, continuing to struggle underneath him. You felt your ribs crack as he pressed the rest of his considerable weight onto you, and the strangled, stuttering gasp that left your throat was the kind of sound that belonged in a horror film.

The Alpha seemed to think so too, as he moaned in a horrid mixture of pleasure and abject misery before he scruffed you again. You went still, once more trapped in your own body. It was the worst sensation you’d ever felt, worse than the experiments the white coats ran on you, worse than your punishments, worse than your heats spent alone. Worse than the shattered ankle or broken ribs, worse even than the feeling of him ripping you apart from the inside. You were always helpless and vulnerable, being an omega, but this… when you were scruffed, you were no longer a person. You were just an object, to be used as your Alpha saw fit.

Your Alpha.

The man on top of you—who was knotting you for the second time now—was your Alpha. He’d claimed you, the pain in your shoulder was proof of that. You would wear his mark forever, now. You would belong to him for the rest of your life.

You prayed that it was short.

Your Alpha released his painful grip on your nape again, but you didn’t try to get away this time. You were far too disoriented. Being scruffed once was bad enough, but twice in as many minutes? You could easily go into shock from that. You probably were in shock, but you didn't panic, feeling too distant and floaty. The ice in your veins was numbing you from the inside. That was nice… you leaned into it, letting your blankly staring eyes flutter shut—

“Omega!”

Your eyes snapped back open and you whimpered, trying to curl in on yourself. That only caused pain to flare up all over your body, the burning between your legs as you tugged on his knot pulling another scream from you.

“Stay still,” the same harsh voice ordered, and your instincts forced you to obey. The command was a little more collected this time, a little more coherent, even if he was still groaning and slurring.

“Don' move,” your Alpha panted, each word sounding like it was dragged out of him. He started to fuck you once more. “Don’— don’ wanna scruff you ‘gain.”

You didn’t have it in you to be grateful. Didn’t have it in you to be sympathetic to his situation either, not while he was still rutting into you like an animal.

They dosed me, he’d said. You wished they’d dosed you. At least then you wouldn't feel the pain…

***

Simon had never hated being an Alpha more than in that moment.

Bollocks deep in a pretty little omega, one already stuffed full of his come and wearing his mark… he wished fervently that this was just another of his nightmares, the ones that stuck with him like a bad smell even after escaping Roba.

Between the disorientation from his forced rut and the nasty head injury, he almost let himself believe that it was. If it was a dream, he could give in, and he wouldn’t actually be hurting anyone. He could just ride it out, come in trousers wherever he was sleeping, and hopefully, it would end faster.

But her screams were far too real.

She wailed like she was being flayed alive as she struggled underneath him, and his Alpha—after being denied a partner for his ruts for over a decade—was brutal and swift in its response. Scruffing her like a scrappy mutt, growling in pleasure at the way she submitted to him—the way she was forced to submit to him.

It was nearly impossible to think around how fucked his head was—by instinct and injury both—but after he'd knotted her for the second time, he was able to act a little more like the trained soldier he was, and not like a panicked civvie.

He didn’t argue with himself any longer. He accepted the reality of the situation as it was. He was in rut. He was trapped with an omega. He had brutalized and claimed her. If he kept focusing on trying to stop himself altogether, he was going to kill her. He needed to give up on that and instead just try to minimize the damage.

Starting with stopping her from going into shock, and then stopping her from fighting back. It only made his Alpha all the more eager to dominate her—by any means necessary.

It sickened Simon that that part of him existed. Deep down, he feared that it always had. That Roba hadn’t created it, back in the desert. That he’d just unearthed it. All of Simon’s evilness, all his wicked desires…

It was why he’d never taken an omega before. Never even let himself date one, back when that was something he did.

Johnny was perfect, in that way. In many ways, really, but him being a beta—it soothed Simon’s fears. The fears that were being proved true.

He didn’t know how long passed before the rut inducers wore off. It had to have been hours. The omega—his omega—was still facedown on the ground when he pulled out of her for the last time. She was bleeding from where he’d bitten her, and where he’d bred her, his cock drenched in her blood, her own thighs stained with a mix of it and his come.

Simon threw up at the sight. He told himself it was just from the head injury.

He was naked, except for his mask, which was pushed up past his nose. He didn't remember taking off his trousers, though he recalled that his shirt had been cut to shreds the first day of his captivity by his torturer. He didn’t remember a lot of his mini-rut, as was common when it was induced. But the evidence of what he’d done was right in front of him. The omega—not mine, not my omega, not mine—was clad in nothing but the scraps of her clothes. Her side, hips, wrists, and the back of her neck were bruised. Her ankle was bent at a funny angle. A small patch of hair near her nape was missing, leaving her scalp red and raw. Simon looked at his hands, and found the strands woven between his fingers.

She didn’t move.

Simon pulled his mask into position and Ghost took over. He moved towards the girl, feeling for a pulse. She flinched violently when he touched her neck, and he felt relief—and guilt—reverberate through him. Ghost was good at ignoring his feelings, though.

“S’over,” he told her, voice gruff. “S’done now. Promise.”

The omega didn’t acknowledge his words, just kept her shoulders tucked up by her ears, guarding her neck. Ghost didn't protest, simply felt along her spine for any breaks. He didn’t find any, so he carefully rolled her over.

Her breasts were red and raw, nipples bleeding from being scraped back and forth across the floor. There was a hand shaped bruise around her throat, and petechiae in the whites of her glassy eyes. Ghost ignored his horror at the sight, and began to palpate her ribs. She inhaled sharply when he touched the eighth and ninth ones, a pitiful, pained whine escaping her.

The ribs were probably fractured, if not broken. The bruising above them was clue enough. There was another massive bruise low on her belly, and Ghost swore. Internal bleeding. He may have actually fucked this poor omega to death. There was no way she survived the night if she wasn't treated soon.

He got his pants and trousers on, hoping it would help her believe the worst was over, and then got to work doing what he could—wrapping her ribs with the dirty blanket in the corner, and holding the scraps of her shirt between her legs to try and stem the bleeding there. It wasn't enough. It wasn’t nearly enough. He didn’t even know if it was really worth the discomfort it caused her—but he couldn't bring himself to just let her die. She was his omega.

Not mine, not mine, not mine.

He talked to her as she faded. Tried to keep her awake with the sound of his voice, though he knew it was probably the last thing she wanted to hear. He told her stories from his childhood—the few good ones there were—told her the plot of the last film he and Johnny had watched, told her about Johnny. That was the topic he lingered on the longest. It was far easier to talk about his beta than himself. And by the time her eyes slipped closed and her shallow breathing stopped, it was Simon that was holding her, not Ghost, despite the mask on his face.

It was Simon that watched her die.

It was Simon that realized he didn't even know her name.

And it was Simon that howled with grief and rage, clutching the broken body of the omega—my omega, my omega, mine—against his chest.

Footsteps rapidly approached the cell, and Simon snarled like a rabid animal as he turned towards the bars. He barely had a second to pull his omega—dead, dead, dead, she was mine and I killed her, she was innocent and I killed her—behind him before a familiar voice rang out. The only voice that could have possibly reached him in this state, that could stop him from giving into his instincts completely and going feral.

“Simon?”

“Johnny,” Simon growled, sounding desperate and broken. He felt broken. This little omega had managed to do what Roba and a hundred others had failed at. And she hadn't even tried.

“Let us help her, Si,” Johnny coaxed, moving closer while Price and Gaz hung back. Wise, because Simon could barely keep himself from baring his teeth at his own beta. Johnny didn't back down. “Si. Let us help her.”

Simon hesitated for a long moment, fighting his overwhelming instincts, before moving away. Johnny rushed in, immediately checking the omega’s pulse and starting compressions when he couldn’t find it. Simon tried to struggle to his feet, but he nearly fell over, Gaz and Price catching him. He snarled, weakly pulling away from them, but they held fast.

“We got you, soldier,” Price’s deep voice rumbled in his ear. “Stand down.”

Simon slumped, unable to hold himself up anymore, all his injuries catching up to him.

“I killed her,” he whispered raggedly, eyelids falling shut. He felt Gaz shake him to try and keep him awake, but he simply didn't have the willpower, anymore. “She was mine and I killed her.”

The mantra rang in his head even as he lost consciousness, and her screams of pain and the look of fear on her face as she lay dying followed him into his dreams.

-

less angsty ending

[bernardsbendystraws]

Fresh Air

Matt Sturniolo x Reader

Check out my pinned post for more of my writing.

00 01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08 09 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 FINAL

Summary: One night at a party seems to change everything. A strange man with a friendly smile and a sleeve of patchwork tattoos seems to make you feel at home for a change. You're finally happy to have made a good friend to lean on - especially when it comes to your not-so-great relationship with your boyfriend. But what happens if you lean too much...what happens if you fall?

Warnings: 18+. This series contains mature themes, read at your own risk. (SMUT, angst, parental troubles, financial hardships, and more. Don't like, don't read.) This warning is made for all parts.

A/N: To be added to the taglist, send a request in my inbox or comment on the pinned post. I'm far more likely to see requests sent to my inbox.

With love and big tits, Rose.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

05: Building Up Like Waves

I was still in Matt’s hoodie. And under his blankets. 

We had gone on a walk and Matt had let me yapp the entire time. He even wanted me to talk the whole car ride too. Wrong turns had made the quick ten minute drive from the park somehow turn into over an hour. 

I knew what he was doing. 

Those weren’t wrong turns. I doubt he didn’t have any fun stories to catch me up on from the past week, but he didn’t interrupt me once. I couldn’t complain. I felt even better somehow. It wasn’t all being trapped in my head anymore and it didn’t feel so lonely to think about that night.

I didn’t feel lonely at all. 

“Hey, where’s my toothbrush?” I ask, shuffling around in the top left drawer of his bathroom vanity. It’s usually here–in the little tray next to his, but it’s empty. I don’t even see his toothbrush. 

“Well,” Matt starts. By the tone in his voice my lips already start to curl upward. What is he up to? Anticipation pokes at my skin as I watch him pull something from behind his back while standing in the doorway. “-I got these…” 

A break of giggles from my end makes my gut hurt. I feel my hand clutch onto my stomach through the soft, thick fabric of his hoodie. 

“Matt–” I snort harder, grabbing the toothbrush packages from his hand. “Why the–”

“For fun!” he exclaims, his hands waving in the air dramatically. His lips smack and part with mischief and pride as he watches me hunch over with laughter again. “--do you,” he snickers, “--do you not like ‘em?” he asks. 

Straightening my posture, I place the two small packages on the bathroom counter, my hands flying up and messing up his hair. “Of course I love them you idiot!” I announce, laughing softly as Matt’s hands wrap around my wrists and pull my hands to his chest gently. 

“I…” My eyes meet his as he looks up at me with a sparkling joy. His hands hold mine a little tighter as he keeps his gaze pinned on me, his lips pressing gently onto my knuckles as I swallow thickly. “I–”

“You…” Matt interrupts, squinting his eyes with a flourishing excitement as I stammer over my words. 

Shaking my head, I let out a sigh of disbelief as I push against his chest, “I can’t believe you got us character themed toothbrushes. The ones they get for kids!” 

His chest rumbles with hushed laughter as he twiddles his fingers around my hands. “I know, isn’t it fun though? You said you never got one as a kid,” he says. 

I never got one as a kid, I barely even remembered telling him that. 

But, he remembered. 

He always remembered because he always cared. I didn’t even have to ask for him to care. 

What if I hadn’t said yes to Hayden that day? What if Matt and I had…

No.

Bad thoughts. 

That’s cheating. 

Is this cheating?

“I, um…” I try to retrace my steps as overflowing thoughts flood my brain. It was just a thought. “--I can’t believe you remembered,” I remark, my tone reeking of the tooth-rotting smile covering my face. 

I can’t believe he cared enough to remember and do something so minor just to give me that piece of…innocence. 

Looking back up, my chest tightens as I feel his gaze pour onto me with intensity. It’s a toothbrush—a fucking toothbrush. 

I can feel tears pricking the corner of my eyes with warmth from overwhelming emotions. Happiness with something lingering sadness. I got it now—he thought I deserved to have such a stupid thing—a toothbrush. Why didn’t my parents?  

Why didn’t I?

Buying toothpaste always made me a little sad–buying anything always made me a little sad. I saw all the colorful, nostalgic things. The things I never got. It’s not like my family had been broke either. They were just cheap. The other toothbrushes did the same thing. It wasn’t necessary. 

But they bought other things. My parents bought fancy cruises, all the luxuries some people dreamed about. 

All the luxuries that didn’t really last. 

Those trips were only a glimpse of what things could be. Dad would be happy to finally be away from work—one of the few occasions we truly laughed together—not talked, laughed. I couldn’t remember one meaningful conversation with him. 

And mom…she was somehow worse. 

She stood and watched him step on my innocence, crushing my hopes everytime he ignored me or yelled. 

I just wanted her to be there for me—I didn’t realize anything was wrong until a lot later than I should’ve.

Just like now. 

This wasn’t right. Hayden had no right to put that kind of pressure on me for sex. 

“Hey…are you…are you okay?” 

Reality.

I’m here—with Matt. A stupid, Pokemon toothbrush staring at me practically. 

“I just—I’m about to cry over a fucking toothbrush,” I exclaim, laughing as a tear falls from my cheek. 

“Don’t!” I start, lifting up my hand as I aggressively use the sleeve of the hoodie to brush away the warm tears. “--don’t. This is embarrassing. This isn’t happening,” I joke. 

Matt’s head shakes back and forth with humorous disbelief. He cups my cheeks in both his hands, softly wiping the tear stains as I stare up at the ceiling. 

“Hey—it’s okay. I…I’m sorry, but it’s funny—it’s cute,” he laughs.

Cute.

He thinks it’s cute?

A blush covers my cheeks before I can stop it. My widened eyes watch as he hunches over with giggles spilling from his lips profusely. Shame paints over my face as I push his hands away and cover my face with my hands. 

“Ugh!” 

My loud ruff seems to catch his attention. The burn of embarrassment bubbling in the pit of my gut leaves my muscles tensing as I feel his grab my wrist lightly and hold them as if he’s praying. 

“No, no—” his eyes pour into mine with apologetic sympathy as he tries to keep a straight face, “--just, let’s brush our teeth and go to bed.” 

Nodding in agreement, I watch with a warm heart as he unpackages the toothbrushes. He puts a line of toothpaste on the bristles. With a soft smile, he outreaches it to me. 

And I didn’t even have to ask. 

Matt smiles at me in the mirror as I swirl the brush along my teeth. It feels refreshing.

__________

The cool night air contrasted with the heat swarming beneath the comforter. 

Fuck, it’s hot. 

“Mmph, I…” 

Oh.

Matt’s hands are clutching into my hips, a hard bulge grinding into my core as my mouth drops wide. 

God, it feels like fucking heaven. 

The fog of sleep clouding my mind leaves me with nothing but instinct, my own hips swiveling to combat his motions. My head cranes back against his chest, his warm breath tickling behind my ear. 

He’s so hard. 

Hayden.

Fuck. This is wrong.

This is definitely wrong. 

“I…Matt,” I croak, whispering into the air as my hands latch over his wrists. 

Silence. Quiet air is only broken by muffled whines vibrating against my neck where his lips hover.

He’s still asleep. 

“Doll….-’m…close…” 

Doll. 

The name he likes to call me. 

Only me. 

He’s dreaming about me.

Matt’s hips drive faster, rocking and tensing as hard as possible. The blistering warmth crawling in my chest is overwhelming, but intoxicating. 

He’s close. So close. The desperate moans, his hands clutching even tighter and pulling me closer—he’s so close.

“Matt, wake—”

My words hitch as his nails dig into my skin, his hips tensing more and more. 

Wake him up.

The three-worded chant is clouded by every sensation—his hair tickling my ear, his lips puffing against my neck, and…his hard, clothed cock rutting against the growing heat between my legs. 

Nothing like this has ever felt like this. 

I can’t think….I can’t stop.

A broken whine echoes from my lips as I feel a warm liquid smother through the thin pajama pants, a lengthened groan stringing from him against my neck. It feels so good. 

It feels so good making him feel so good. 

Doll. The name he only calls me. He’s thinking of me, holding me. He wants me subconsciously.

Does he want me consciously too?

Hayden. Fuck.

Guilt creeps in as I feel Matt fall limp and unmoving. Even breaths from his chest press against me. The huffed breaths turn into soft snores, the same snore that made it easier to feel at peace. 

This is wrong. This is so utterly wrong. 

Despite the growing pit in my gut, my eyes lose more and more while trying to fight gravity. It’s just so warm—so intoxicating. It doesn’t feel like anything is wrong when I’m in his arms. 

Even the guilt doesn’t compare to the amount of peace. 

[wonderlandwalker]

First impressions | Eddie Munson x reader

stranger things masterlist / inbox summary: Eddie learns that Dustin has a recently reunited sister, and from the moment he meets you he's a goner.

word count: 1.4k

tags / content warning: pure fluff, henderson!reader, tiny mention of a fight but nothing descriptive, not edited, no use of y/n

a/n: Eddie brain rot cause I couldn't keep it in. Don't know if this is my best work but I'm planning to write more chapters on this so it's just a start, hope you like it

“You need a ride home after this?” It was more of a formality than an actual question, he always drove Dustin home after a session.

“Oh that’s okay, my sister is picking me up.” Dustin didn’t even look up from packing his things away, but Eddie’s head shot up.

“Your- you have a sister, since when?” As far as he knew Dustin was an only child, but now he was wrecking his brain trying to think if he had ever mentioned you before.

“I know you’re bad at math Eddie, but I just told you she’s driving so try and put the pieces together.” Dustin was looking up at him now, challenging him.

“Alright smartass, it’s time for you to shut up.” He told him as he ruffled through his hair, leaving behind an agitated Dustin trying frantically to fix it. 

The others had already gone home, but Dustin stayed behind late to help Eddie finish up, a habit that became more and more common as the two grew closer. When they finished packing up Eddie locked the door behind them, and while walking to the parking lot decided he wasn’t quite done interrogating Dustin.

“If you have an older sister, how come I've never seen her around before?”

“I mean she’s been around during holidays before, she lived with dad though but they had a big fight so she’s moved here.” It seemed like a sore topic, so Eddie dropped it for now.

As they got to the entrance of the school and felt the cool air on their skin Eddie indeed noticed another car in the usually empty lot, and you were sitting on the hood of it, a book in your hands as you patiently waited. The last rays of sunshine graced your figure as if the heavens themselves were blessing you, and Eddie had never been so sure he’d seena goddess in his life. It was just like the tales he knew so well, the ones he still devoted his life to, it was as if they were becoming true. You looked up when you heard them approach, smiling at the sight of them and giving Dustin a quick side hug as they reached you.

“It’s nice to meet you, I’ve heard a lot of good things.” You held your hand out for Eddie to take, but all he could do was look at it, staring ahead as if hitting pause in a game, he stood still. He wanted to react, to not make the most horrible first impression possible, but the longer he looked at you the worse it got, getting lost in sight of your smile.

“Alright, not a fan of handshakes, noted.” You chuckled as you withdrew your hand, and Eddie cursed himself for not having taken the opportunity to feel how soft your skin must’ve been. You looked at him again, your eyes piercing straight through his soul and he wondered if maybe he had found himself in one of his fantasy worlds, he must have. But the next second he shook himself out of it, because you were real, you were real and in front of him and expecting him to say something.

“I’m Eddie.” he said, nodding his head as if to confirm his own statement.

“So I’ve been told.” Another giggle slipped past your lips, and Eddie wasnt sure if it was from nerves or entertainment, but he was dying to hear more of it, even if he had to make a fool of himself to do so.

Dustins head kept going back and forth as if watching a tennis match of idiocracy. He had never seen Eddie so flustered, so used to the man flaunting with every opportunity that presented itself that this seemed quite out of character. In full disclosure, it was kind of freaking him out to see Eddie so beside himself, and it was freaking him out even further that he couldn’t figure out why. It was probably blatantly obvious to anyone else, but maybe it was for the best that Dustin couldn’t place where the tension originated from, either way, his patience had run out

“Can we go home now, I still have to call Mike to discuss our net strategies” You tore your eyes from Eddie, deciding that maybe it was for the best to head home.

“Yeah alright, maybe I’ll see you around Eddie.” You gave him one last smile as you got in the car with Dustin and drove off, but it took him another minute to pick his shambled ego up from the concrete ground as he berated himself for not being able to utter one coherent sentence. As he got in his van and drove home as well he decided he’d have to grill Dustin for more information on you the next time he’d see him. As he got to the trailer he grumbled a hello to Wayne before disappearing to his room, ignoring the backhanded comment he got about his grumpy disposition. 

He wondered if he’d ever be able to convince you he was cool, whether he’d be able to get you to agree to see him again, but after what just transpired he figured the odds were slim. Not that he’d give up so easily, he didn’t have much of a reputation to lose and if he’d be able to get you to laugh again that would be more than enough. But he didn’t get to wonder for long as Wayne knocked on his door, he was ready to tell the man to leave him alone, but the next sentence was one that confused him immensely

“Someone on the phone for you.” Wayne held the phone out to him, expecting him to get up from the bed and take it, but Eddie didn’t move an inch.

“For me, you sure?” He was still not quite sure what to do.

“Unless another Eddie is living here I’m pretty sure.” He moved his hand again to accentuate the phone that was still on hold, but once again Eddie just sat there.

“If you want I can tell her to call back-” That’s when he sprung into action, snatching the phoen out of Wayne’s hand 

“No! No, I got it. Thank you.” The old man simply chuckled as he left again, closing the door behind him to give his nephew some privacy.

Eddie cleared his throat once before picking up the line put on hold. 

“Hello?” he asked, still not quite sure what to do.

“Hi, Eddie it’s me, just wanted to see if you were doing alright.” your sweet voice blessed his ears once more. He doesn’t know what he did to get the universe on his side like this, but he was grateful for it nonetheless.

“Yeah I’m good, listen-” Eddie figured this time he shouldn’t waste his chance, and he probably had some making up to do.

“- I’m sorry if I freaked you out earlier, just never seen anyone that pretty before.” You were giggling again, and it brought the biggest grin onto his face.

“You didn’t weird me out at all, it was kinda cute. I had to bribe Dustin to let me use the phone so I don’t have much time but I was wondering if maybe you’d like to go out this weekend?” Maybe he should’ve waited a beart before answering, but he was too eager to care.

“Go out, as in a date?” It got him blushing, the red creeping up on his cheeks as he wondered if that’s really what you were asking

“I mean, kinda, if you want to.” He could almost see you blushing on the other side of the line as well, and he decided it was now or never.

“I’d love to.” 

“That’s great, I’m still kind of new around here, do you know any good places?” Your smile was present as you spoke, and he was already looking forward to seeing it again, now knowing he wouldn’t have to wait long.

“How about I come and pick you up, we can go to the mall.” His confidence was growing with the minute now, absolutely elated by the turn of events.

“Im looking forward to it” He wondered what you’d wear, knowing whatever it was it would look beautiful on you, and he knew he’d spend the entire date amazed at your presence. 

“Me too” he said before the both of you hung up the phone, he had already started planning the most amazing evening out, and maybe, he thought, maybe this year really would take a turn for the better.

[cry4mina]

No Lights, Only Tzu

(Tzuyu x gn!reader)

Word Count: 8.8k

Summary: Staying late at the office on a Friday to finish a report your boss gave you last minute was annoying. Even worse, a massive storm is headed your way. This leads you to company you weren’t expecting and bonding you’ll never forget.

TW: Food mentions, kissing, small make out moment, cuddling and doggos.

A/N: Happy 5 Months to Cry4Mina! I can’t truly cannot believe it’s been 5 months since I started posting and it’s been insane for sure but I truly enjoy it so much and I appreciate you all taking time out of your lives to read the product of my brain rot! Lmfaooooo

Fluff is not my favorite thing to write but I did enjoy getting a little lost in this one. Per @ghostykapi saying “Gib” at the mention of wanting to write Tzuyu fluff lmaoooo

Bless and thank @raainberry and @myouicieloz for helping with names/titles/helping me not go insane while attempting the fluff 🖤

Thanks for reading!

As always, DMs and asks are always open! 🖤

The silence of the office is deafening, it’s late on a Friday night and of course you’d be stuck finishing a report that your boss had gave you at right before the day ended.

“Please, have this in my inbox by midnight, Y/n. It’s very important that we get this to the clients tonight.” mocking you boss’ voice and tone as you fill in the last two boxes with the research requested.

Glancing down at your watch, it reads 8:45pm, way too late to be in this grey washed building any day, let alone a Friday.

Phone on the desk, vibrating with weather warnings that you’ve been ignoring all day. Taking just a moment to check what all the interruptions were throughout the night.

“Thunderstorm warnings…great.” typing even faster, trying to beat the rain.

A sigh of relief leaves your lips as you finish crunching numbers and send the report off to the appropriate parties.

“Finally!” Exclaimed victoriously, arms shooting up over your head to celebrate being able to leave, happy to start your weekend but also worried about driving in the storm that was about to drench the town.

Packing up your stuff, meticulously placing everything scattered across your desk in your briefcase and grabbing your blazer, not even bothering to put it on, before basically running to the elevator and slamming the “down” button.

The doors slide open, you step over the threshold only to press “Lobby” three times rapidly not willing to wait for the elevator to register that you were in a hurry.

It’s time to get out of this building.

Tapping your foot, waiting for the doors to open again so you can make your way to your car. The ding like the start of a race, taking large hurried steps through the lobby of the building and waving to the receptionist on your way out.

Automatic doors robotically opening to reveal a stormy night sky. You can see the outline of the moon behind the threat of the downpour and the scattered patter of rain from the storm that was threatening to drench the town.

“It’s going to be a rough one! Be safe on your way home.” A small velvety voice softly rings out, stopping you from taking a step down the stoned staircase towards the parking lot.

Turning to see who it was, it was the girl from the 4th floor. Tzuyu. Leaning against the stone column and seemingly annoyed but cheery enough to greet you.

Grace displayed in every move she made as she toyed with her side bag, running her fingers through her hair nervously, her eyes scanning the almost empty parking lot and then immediately looking down at her hands still tinkering with the zipper.

Tall but delicate, her long dark pin straight hair framing her face perfectly before landing elegantly on her shoulders. The black trench coat she wore was left open, allowing her business professional outfit of a pastel pink silk blouse tucked into a pencil skirt to peak through.

A polite smile that dawned on her face when she realized you weren’t going to just walk past her and wave, causing a flutter in your stomach, which would have stopped you had you not already frozen in place by her siren voice.

No wonder everyone had an innocent work place crush on her.

But why was she waiting out front?

“Thank you…Tzuyu, right?….are you okay out here? It’s late…shouldn’t you be at home too?” looking back at the sky and gesturing out, referencing the storm about to unleash its wrath on the city.

“Well, I’ve been waiting for an Uber but they keep cancelling because of the…” mimicking your gesture in a dramatic fashion, “so I’m stuck here until someone accepts the ride.” Sighing in frustration.

“How long have you been out here?” Concern riddled in your voice.

“Three hours.”

“Three hours?!” shock apparent in your tone and the facial expression you displayed, eyes wide, mouth open and brows furrowed.

Thinking about how she was usually very quiet around the office, she never really said much to anyone but when she did, it was always sweet, kind, or witty.

“Do you…want a ride?” The offer sounds shaky but still meant whole heartedly, the glimmer in her eye tells you that she knows you mean it.

“Truthfully, I was going to just walk but I won’t say no if you’re offering.” Smiling back at you, the gratefulness present in her grin.

“Well it’s about to down pour, I can’t let you walk home like this. It’s also pretty late…so it’s not entirely safe for you to do that. Come on, let’s go.” Waving her over to you so you can make way to your car and opening your passenger door for her.

“Thank you…” softly spoken to you as you got into the other side and started the car.

—

As you follow your GPS to Tzuyu’s apartment, the sky opens up. The once withheld clouds releasing their tears, engulfing everything and much like eyes full of emotion, it makes it hard to see the road in front of you.

Thankfully, most cars were off the road, the highway barren in nature, only reflecting the rain splatter and the hazy lines that were supposed to divide the lanes.

White knuckling the steering wheel and leaning forward, you squint. The blur of the road is impossible to read and it’s starting to feel unsafe. Especially with a passenger present.

“Hey, Tzuyu. I’m going to pull over, I can’t see anything and it would be a little too reckless for me to keep driving in these conditions” Pressing the brakes slowly to ensure not to hydroplane, turning the blinker on and pulling off to the side of the highway.

Pressing the button for your hazard lights, you look over at her to see her fidgeting with her fingers again. She seems nervous in her mannerisms, though still very elegant in the way she manuvers- a loud crack of thunder startles the both of you.

Both wide-eyed, you can’t help but giggle at what’s just happened. She joins you in that and before you know it, you’re both cackling at each other’s reactions to the clap of thunder.

“So, Tzuyu.” looking over at her again.

“What are you up to this weekend?” Trying to make conversation with this pretty human you hardly knew in your passenger seat.

“Well, my parents were supposed to come into town this weekend but because of the storm, they’re staying home. So my plans are kind of ruined actually. It hasn’t been the best week for me.” There’s a hint of sadness being shielded in this response, you can see it in her eyes and hear it in the infliction of her words.

“I’m really sorry to hear that.” Not really knowing what to say next to help her feel better.

“It’s okay, it’s not your fault. I just don’t really get to see them often so I was really excited…” a beat of silence follows, she takes a deep breath and goes on.

“They’ll come another weekend, we just have to find one without a huge storm.” Chuckling at what she’s said and covering her mouth trying to mask the disappointment.

“Yeah, I’m sure it’ll be soon too! I’m sure they’re just as excited to see you.” smiling at her in an attempt to offer warmth to this borderline stranger.

“Thank you, Y/n. It’s really kind of you to say that.”

This is the first time you’ve really had a chance to see her, to really see her. Her doe eyes, shy smile, witty sense of humor that poked through momentarily before getting in the car, and the vulnerability she displayed…left you a little curious about who she is, what her personality would convey to you in this impromptu adventure you found yourself on.

“What about you?” Tzuyu’s calm voice snapped you out of the curious trance you were in.

“Oh! Uhm…well I was supposed to volunteer at the local animal shelter but given this storm going through Sunday evening, I don’t think I’ll be able to now.” a small sigh leaves your chest, you always did love volunteering and playing with the dogs, as you didn’t have one of your own.

“You volunteer too? Which one?!” the excitement that spreads across her face catches you off guard, sparking that thrill in your stomach again.

“The one off this exit, actually!” pointing to the sign a couple yards in front of you.

“That’s the one I volunteer at!” Tzuyu now beaming at you with admiration.

Blinking a few times, your stomach trembles in a way that was unfamiliar, at least in reaction to her. Sure, you thought she was beautiful, but you hadn’t really had any time to get to know each other aside from small greetings here and there. This was the first time you really had a chance to speak with her.

Heart beating a little faster as you watch her remove her jacket, revealing toned arms, and place it over her lap so she can rotate in the passenger seat to face you. Leaning back against the door and getting comfortable, she catches you looking at her.

The blush that washed over her cheeks flustered you, a warm boil in your stomach overturning all other emotions, a glimmering shimmer ascended from your bones that soaked into your muscles, causing them to tense and contract under the curiosity you had for the beautiful woman sitting in front of you.

Tzuyu giggled at your react, seeing your face turn red and you look down to avoid her eye contact.

A small rumble interrupted the attempted transformation into awkward silence. Grabbing your stomach realizing you hadn’t eaten since before you clocked in, at 8am. Looking down to view your hand shielding your torso, your eyes raise to Tzuyu, who was smiling back at you with her hand covering her mouth, covering the expression that was still being screamed through the her eyes.

“I’m hungry myself. There is a 24 hour diner around the corner from the shelter. Do you want to try to make it there? I bet they’re open.” repressing a giggle before looking down to try and keep her composure.

“We might be able to make it there.” clicking the hazard buttons off and carefully pulling onto the highway again, making sure to carefully steer and keep a moderate speed that wouldn’t be too dangerous.

—

The bell on the door jingles abruptly, startling the hostess who fell asleep at the podium, unwilling to blame her for the snooze. Rain always makes you tired and it’s not like the place is lively. Empty seats fill the room, so does the horrid song from the early 2000’s playing in the background.

Dripping wet from running from the car, you look to your right and see Tzuyu standing there, completely soaked. Curling up into her self to try and preserve some body heat, it would seem.

“Table for two, please” the hostess looks at you, then Tzuyu, then back at you and just nods her head, grabbing two menus and setting off to the first table next to her. She placed them at the table before silently walking back to the podium and sitting down again.

You pull the chair out for Tzuyu, this catches her by surprise and she thanks you graciously. Heart soaring as you find your seat across from her. She looks down at the menu, blinks a few times, and then scoots it off to the side.

“I know what I’m going to get, what about you?” curiosity or inquiring on whether or not you were ready to order? Are you overthinking this? *Yes.*

“Hmmmm…well I always order the same thing, so I think I’ll switch it up a bit.” pensively staring at the menu and giving the idea you’re going over it with a fine toothed comb.

“What do you normally get?” There is the curiosity you were just questioning.

“Waffles with strawberries.” placing the menu down on top of Tzuyu’s discarded one on the other side of the table.

“Oh wow, okay…are we the same person? Or is this just a very weird coincidence that we volunteer at the same place and have the same order at the diner that we both go to frequently…?” completely in shock about the other details that have surfaced, realizing that you might have more in common that you have previously expected, even if it’s a small thing.

It’s something to hold onto.

A waitress walks up and stands next to the table, this one you were unfamiliar with. She’s not the one here on the days you stop by while on this side of town for volunteering. Looking up and offering her a smile, she doesn’t acknowledge it and just simply pulls her pen out from behind her ear, licks the ballpoint, and stares at you as if waiting for something.

“Oh, uhm….okay, Two orders of waffles, One with strawberries and one with blue berries and 2 cups of hot coffee, please!” The waitress nods at you, writing down some shortened version of what was said, before snatching the menu’s off the table and prancing into the kitchen.

Twiddling your thumbs while taking in the atmosphere of the place you usually frequent during the day, the warm lighting was pleasant even in the wake of the storm clashing down outside. Yellowed walls from the years of the building being open covered in themed art based off of “Route 66.”

Street signs, a wagon wheel, maps of the desert, pictures of vintage cars, you name it - haphazardly sprawled on the walls in a nonsensical manner. It always was something that made you giggle as there was hardly any sense to the interior design of this place, but you enjoyed the food either way.

Eyes shifting back to Tzuyu, who was now shivering in her seat, smiled up at you through chattering teeth. Watching her as she rubbed her arms for warmth, her hair still dripping from the mere seconds of rain you experienced (an ode to how hellish it was).

You stood up, hastily.

Her eyes followed you, watching as you took your blazer off to reveal a perfectly dry black button down. She gazed up at you, watching as you undid your cufflinks and started unbuttoning your shirt.

“Take your jacket off.” stated as you reveal the undershirt you were wearing under your work shirt, untucking it as you pulled it off.

“Excuse me?” Tzuyu, confused and wondering if she should be upset, halfway glares at you for the statement.

“Oh! Gosh, no. Uhm, I’m trying to help you be more comfortable and your jacket is soaking wet. Let me hang it on the back of the chair for you and you can wear this instead.” handing her the shirt that was thick and dry.

“Oh…” She stands, removing her jacket in what appeared to you to be slow motion. Excitement returns, finding its place in your stomach as you help her out of her jacket and into your shirt. Nervousness taking over your limbs as you shake, hiding it from her.

She doesn’t need to know that you’re feeling this way…that you’re attracted to her.

Sitting down again, Tzuyu has already stopped shivering and can’t seem to hold eye contact with you. A little unnerved, you try to make small talk to quiet the new sensations you were experiencing.

“So, ho-”

“Thank you.” interrupted by the stunning girl sitting in front of you, you can’t even mad at the sudden disruption of the question you were about to ask her.

“What?”

“Well, today has been kind of not by best day at all. I got stuck at the office, the storm outside, the lack of a ride home, my parents not coming to visit, and the you show up and fix almost every single one of those problems…I mean, you even gave me your shirt because I was cold…” her cheeks flush a lovely rose color.

“It’s really no trouble at all.” quietly from your side of the table, what was she implying here?

“This is really making my day, so thank you…seriously.”

“I’m glad that I can contribute to you having a good day, Tzu.” Sides of your mouth pulling up to offer a small smile, now feeling like you’re on the spot - you don’t really know what to do with yourself.

“Here you are, blueberry for you” a plate heavily placed down on the table and slid against the glassed wood that was heavily tarnished from years of the same movement.

“And strawberry for you.” the waitress repeats the movement and slides the fruit drenched waffles in front of Tzuyu before turning around and jogging to get the coffee she freshly made for the two of you.

“Do y’all need any cream? Sugar?” shouted back to the table from behind the “bar.”

“Yes, please!” Tzuyu now cutting her waffles before melting a slab of butter on them and then drenching them in syrup.

The waitress brings the packed of sugar and cream over with the two mugs and the pot of coffee, setting the entire tray down before stepping away and leaving the both of you to your breakfast.

Glancing down at the two mugs, you reach over and grab one.

“How do you take your coffee?” looking up at Tzuyu to see her plopping a syrup coated strawberry in her mouth and trying to chew it quickly so she can answer your question.

“Two sugars and a dash of cream, usually.” reaching out to take the mug from you, you swiftly move it just out of reach from her.

Setting it down just out of reach, she stops what she’s doing and watches you take the sugar packets and shake them so all of it piles up at the bottom of the thin paper before you rip them open.

“You better keep eating” scolding her playfully without looking up. A soft shy giggle is heard through the spoon mixing the sugar around, waiting for it to dissolve in the heat of the liquid before introducing the cool cream to the mixture.

Lifting the mug off the table, you hand it to Tzuyu, hands brushing as you pass the mug. The softness of her hands relaxes you, contemplating what it would be like to hold them.

Snapping out of that thought, you proceed to make your own coffee. She takes a sip of hers and nods her head at the warmth and flavor. She watches you tentatively, noticing the two packets of sugar, noticing the same amount of cream…

“Another thing in common?” taking another bite of the waffles, as you dressed yours the way you enjoyed.

“I actually prefer iced coffee but I wanted to know what your order tasted like.” sipping from the mug and making a face at the flavor.

Tzuyu reaches out and smacks your arm jovially, giggling at the playfulness you possessed when interacting with her.

“It’s just okay. It’s not sweet enough.” poking fun at her now before taking a massive bite of the blueberry waffles.

“Hey!” reaching over to push you lightly.

She hasn’t stopped smiling since the two of you sat down, not that it was an issue…her smile lit up the room, able to lift anyone’s mood, and add a warmth to the dreary night.

Gathering a helping of the blueberries on your plate, along with piece of the doughy fluff on your plate, you take your first bite.

“Oh, you HAVE to try the blueberries!” speaking with your mouthful in excitement of how delicious and sweet they were.

Scooping a few up on your fork with the waffle and the syrup, you lift it up to her mouth and she instinctually takes the bite with no hesitation.

A small amount of syrup dribbled down her chin. You reach for a napkin and lick the corner of it, placing your free hand on the side of her cheek, you carefully wipe the droplet from her chin before turning your attention back to your food.

She’s a few chews deep when both of you realize the intimate moment you have just had with each other.

A flash of heat radiates from you internally, embarrassed at the romantic nature of the action, you look down at your lap - fearful of what the response would be.

“I’m sorry, I know you could’ve done that yo-”

“Don’t worry about it…I took it from you, didn’t I? I leaned into it…didn’t I?” batting her dreamy eyes at you, if you weren’t already sitting down - you would’ve needed to.

Suddenly very aware of everything touching your skin, the air in your lungs, and the sweet flavor of the berries that resonated on your tongue. It’s hard to ignore the signs that you were developing a crush on her, and very afraid of overstepping and scaring her off.

Stop.

Freeze this moment, hold onto the memory and remember it fondly later. The smile, to sweet words, the comfortability. It was unlike anything you’ve ever felt. No need to fear, this is happening naturally.

A film in development, a polaroid in waiting - comparable to what was happening right before both of your eyes.

“So why were you at the office so late today?” sipping the coffee you made for her, humming into the warmth of it, and grabbing her fork to sneak another blueberry or two from your plate.

Tzuyu is leaning in closer to you, elbows on the table and one hand other her chin, the other toying with the fruit on your plate. Sneaking a strawberry from hers, you continue on:

“Well…” letting out a sigh that rang true to how annoyed you were at the day you had.

“My boss sent me a report that needed to be finished by midnight tonight to be sent over to the shareholders overseas…at 4:30pm…when I normally clock out around 5-5:30pm.” rolling your eyes at the though, before glancing down at your watch to see it was 10:18pm already.

“Jeez, that was very inconsiderate of her…especially on a Friday when there’s a huge storm brewing outside.” another sip of her coffee, another blueberry stolen, another shy look through her long eyelashes, another moment to secretly swoon over her.

The comfort that you feel in her presence is…different.

Different in a good way, you were still nervous but not to the same degree. There was a safety here, you knew she wasn’t going to judge you and the anxious was more of an excitement than a fight or flight moment.

Taking the last bite of your waffle, you let a few more of the blueberries fall off onto the plate and watched her as she snagged her fork again, sneaking two and leaving the last two for you. Smiling at the gesture, you pop them into your mouth and enjoy the sweetness from both sides.

“It doesn’t look like the rain has stopped much.” glancing out the window and seeing the waterfall of rainwater cascading off the roof and into the parking lot.

“At least we are full now. I’m going to run to the bathroom and then I’ll be good to brace the storm again.” Tzuyu stands as she speaks, wrapping herself tightly in the button down to keep herself from shivering as she walks to the back of the diner.

Peacefully watching the rainfall down, sipping the warm coffee and waiting for her return, you gloss over everything that’s happened this evening.

Being trapped with a pretty woman in your car, not being able to see while driving, getting to this diner and finding out that she was actually really sweet and that you had a lot in common, the flutter returns once more. Tickling your already full stomach with even more comfort and calmness than you could express. A shit day turned into a lovely evening with someone very unexpected.

Flagging down the waitress to get the bill, she waves your hand down.

“Your friend already took care of it! Have a lovely night!”

Confused, you look up and see Tzuyu coming back from the bathroom with a big smile painted across her face.

“Why did you do that? I was goin-”

“You saved my day and you’re giving me a ride home, the least I could do was pay for dinner or…breakfast?” giggling as she continued to the table to grab the rest of her things.

“Besides, I ate your blueberries.” winking at you before grabbing her jacket and putting it on again. It was semi-dry now, but still damp enough to give her a small shiver.

“Fine, but next time, let me take care of it.” lightheartedly frowning at her.

“Stay here, I’m going to pull the car around so it’s not as wet for you this time around.” You stepped towards the door, buttoning your blazer up and trying to shield yourself from the rain you were about to encounter again.

Bolting out the door before Tzuyu could protest, you hop in the car and turn it on. Flipping your hair over your shoulder to get it out of your face, you pull out of the parking spot and pull up to the door as close as possible to insure maximum dryness in the human you were about to drive home.

She runs from the front doors to the passenger side of your car and hops in, much drier than before. Taking a second to wipe the excess water from her face, she looks over at you and scrunches her nose and furrows her brows.

“Next time?”

“What?”

“You said next time…so next time you’re buying?” so soft it could’ve just been a breath, you can see her hands shaking as she utters the words, she’s nervous again.

“Yes, next time…unless you’d prefer we didn’t do this again?” pursing your lips and checking in to see if that was something she was interested in.

“Well, I think I’d enjoy it more if it wasn’t…you know…violently storming.” gesturing towards the windshield at the obvious damper on your….hang out?

“I think we can make that happen.”

—

Light conversation fills the slow moving car as you make your way to Tzuyu’s apartment. Talks of what you guys would do the next time you hung out and if you should start volunteering at the animal shelter at the same time got you excited about what was sparking between the two of you.

You can’t help but wonder if she’s just as excited as you are.

Pulling off the highway again, you notice it’s unusually dark. The street lights are dim, the traffic lights are flashing and the buildings don’t have any life in them at all. Pitch darkness covers the once bustling area with lifelessness and dew drops.

“Is it always this dark over here?” concern is very present, as you never know what’s lurking in the dark.

“No…I think the power is out…it’s always well lit. I wonder how long it’s been out for…my dogs are probably so anxious and it’s so hot too. I hope they’re alright without the A/C.” Tzuyu starts picking at her fingers, noticeably anxious at the thoughts she was having.

Before your brain could even understand the thoughts you were having, you blurted out:

“Why don’t you pack a bag and come stay with me for the night? You can bring the pups too, of course.” eyed widening when you hear what you just said, you look over at her and see that she has a reaction that is…good?

“Really?”

“Yeah, why not? I’ve got air conditioning and I’d love to have some puppy’s around since we won’t be able to volunteer this weekend…I mean, if you want to…if you’re comforta-“

“I’d love to.” softly spoken with a very small, very gentle smile across her face.

Pulling up to the building she pointed out as her apartment complex, you offer to come up and help her gather things she might need for the night. Dog food, their leashes, and a bag of her necessities but she politely declines.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be quick!” as she hops out of the passenger seat and runs inside, meanwhile you’re just enjoying the view.

—

It wasn’t long before she returned with bag in hand and two cute dogs following her. Luckily, there was a break in the rain so the dogs had time to use the bathroom before hoping into the car.

Tzuyu wiped their feet off with a hand towel she had ready before unleashing them into the back seat.

Shy at first, the dogs are seemingly a little timid in their approach to you. Not really knowing how to interact since this is the first meeting.

Rotating in your seat to face them, you stick your hand out very slowly, palm up so they can sniff and decide on their own if they want to be touched or not.

“Helloooo puppies! It’s nice to meet yo-…wait, what are their names?” looking over at Tzuyu for the answer.

“This one is Kaya and this one is Butter.” pointing them out one at a time and giving the closest one to her a little head pat.

“Hi hi hi!” showing excitement in your most bestest baby voice to get them to see you were excited to meet them, they were very quick to return the excitement.

Butter jumped over the center console and ended up on your lap, Kaya finding her way to Tzuyu’s before standing on her back legs to look out the window. Continuing to talk to Butter in a baby voice, you give pats and scritches, toying with her big ears and giving her every ounce of attention you could before she curled up and got comfortable on your lap.

Eyes on you as you softly coo and pet the tired dog’s head gently, the feeling of being watched overshadowed by the care and attentiveness you were giving to the usually anxious dog in front of you.

“I’ve never seen her calm down so quickly…even for me…wow” petting Kaya as the dog scans out the window - seemingly on guard.

“Really?”

Tzuyu just nods her head at you, looking into your eyes, you see a glint of something…feeling your heart strings play a song you’ve never heard, you watch as the corners of her mouth lift in a very miniscule way. It would’ve gone unnoticed had you not been sneakily trying to take in every detail of her tonight.

Feeling your body start to lean towards her, Tzuyu seems to have the same idea- leaning into you slight before both of you catch yourselves. Straightening up a little and trying to brush it off as nothing, you turning your head back to the road and grip the steering wheel.

“Uhm…you ready?” the sweat on your palms would be visible, if you were willing to let go long enough to look.

“Yes, I’ve got everything me and the girls will need for the night.” there’s a drop in her pitch, a snag in her tone…did she want you to make a move?

Putting the car into drive and heading to the highway again, you make your way to your apartment. The rain gradually picking back up as you pull into your parking garage and whip into your assigned spot.

—

Helping Tzuyu, you grabbed her bag for the night and her purse, letting her carry your two new furry friends as they were obviously more comfortable with their owner than they would be with you.

Hands full, you fumble for your keys. Nervous was an accurate description of what you were feeling, not really expecting to have guests but happy that she agreed to come. You were enjoying the time you were spending with her and weren’t really ready for it to be over.

“After you.” gesturing her and the pups into your apartment with a smile before you stepped in, closing the door behind you.

Kicking off your shoes and walking over to the couch, you toss the bags on the cushion and remove your blazer, hanging it up in the closet next to the door. Tzuyu still has your button down on, holding the dogs and looking like she isn’t really sure what to do as she scans the living room, taking in the pictures on the wall and the setup of the furniture as she places the dogs down on.

“Please, make yourself at home! I’m going to change into something more comfortable. There is a half bathroom to your right, if you’d like to do the same…I’ll be right back.” the clattering of dog nails on your hardwood floors makes you smile, bringing a warmth to your house that you hadn’t felt before.

The tapping gets closer, looking down to see who it was…Butter seems to be following you.

“Alright, girl come on. You can come with me!” leaning down to scratch her head before you and your four-legged shadow go to your bedroom.

Leaving the door ajar, just incase Butter decides she wants to leave, you slip out of your work clothes and toss them in the laundry hamper before snagging your favorite pair of sweatpants and a cropped tank top - just trying to be as comfortable as possible after being drenched by the downpour that was now re-opening up outside.

Butter just sits and watches, waiting for you. Unable to help yourself, you coo and talk to her in the “puppy voice.” She wags her tail back at you and barks a few times, playfully. She suddenly zooms, pushing the door open with her snout and barreling into the living room.

Taking the small moment of alone time to brush your hair out, untangling it and throwing it into a messy bun. A deep breath fills your lungs as you prepare to step out into the living room again. Grabbing a massive fleece king sized blanket out of the closet and a few pillows, you step back into the living room - completely blocked by fabric and fluff.

The dogs start barking at you, cautioning the mass of blanket walking towards them - Tzuyu is laughing at them for causing such a scene when they were just fawning over you.

“I know it’s late already, but we both had coffee so I was wondering if maybe you’d want to watch a movie or something. I know it’s going to take the dogs a minute to get settled…and I did so happen to get a bottle of wine the other day if you wanted to have a glass or two with me while we watched something…if you want…that is…” plopping the blankets down on the recliner that was next to the couch that Tzuyu already was seated on.

She did take the opportunity to change into something more casual and comfortable. A black cropped hoodie and some light gray sweatpants. Seems like she had a similar idea to you. Even with her sitting down, you could see the outline of her abs.

Swallowing heavily, you avert your eyes, trying not to stare…she was just so pretty and so easy to be around…great conversations and the way that she was just so graceful…*Wait wait wait*, don’t get ahead of yourself. You don’t even know if she is feeling the same way.

“Yes, that sounds great! What kind of movies do you like?” She shouts while watching you walk to the kitchen to get a few wine glasses, a cork screw, and the bottle you previously mentioned.

“It’s your pick! Whatever you want!” sliding back into the living room on the hardwood, socks allowing the slip of the wood to coast you to your destination with ease.

“Don’t do that with so much in your hands!” Tzuyu’s arms raise, ready to catch you if you fall.

“You’ve got glass and a sharp corkscrew! What if you fell?” She stands, taking the glasses and corkscrew from you and placing them on the coffee table before putting her hands on her hips and cocking her eyebrow.

“Awh, come on, I was just having fun!” poking at her for being such a stick in the mud.

Tzuyu sighs, shaking her head slightly before taking her seat on the couch, picking up the corkscrew again, sneaking the bottle from your hands and opening it herself.

“Tzuyu, I promise I won’t do it again.” Halfway whined from you as you plop next to her.

“Good.” Handing you the glass of wine she just poured, smiling about getting her way before pouring herself a glass and recorking the bottle.

The thunder claps outside, scaring both of you and the dogs. Barking at the loud sound, they run and jump up on the couch, cowering behind the two of you.

“Awh, babies! Don’t you worry, your Mom and I will keep you safe, okay? Okay.” scratching behind Butter’s ear, Kaya picking Tzuyu to hide behind.

A glimpse, that’s all it was, from the corner of your eye - Tzuyu was staring at you…hands on her chin, small smile on her lips…and that glimmer in her eyes.

Turning your head to face her, she quickly snapped out of it. Unwilling to show you what you’ve already seen, unable to be so forward with what her body language was already telling you.

“So what movie do you want to watch?” another crack of thunder and the brightest bolt of lightening you ever seen, followed by a very loud pop, the power surges and flickers out completely.

You sit in shock…the whole point of her and the dogs being here was to get out of the powerlessness of her own apartment, but now she was in yours…with her dogs…and no power.

“Did you hear that? The pop?” Tzuyu shakes her head yes in response to your question.

“That was the transformer…so…they’ll have to replace it before we get power back on…” the annoyance woven in the words as you spoke them.

She erupts in a fit of laughter, unable to contain it. Her giggle lights a fire in you, boiling your stomach and melting you from the inside you.

The way she covers her mouth when she laughs, the way she’s leaning back and smacking her knees…the infectious sounds pull the giggling right out of you, unable to stop yourself from joining her.

“Oh, that’s too funny! I was wondering when that would happen. “ wiping the tears out from under her eyes.

“What do you mean?” confused at the statement.

“Well…look at how stormy it is outside. It was likely the power was going to go out. Don’t you think?” Tzuyu gestures at the window, the pitch dark lit up by random flashes of lightening and the rumbling of the winds clashing together.

“Wait…so you knew my power was going to go out here too and you still came?” even more confused.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I? It was a sweet offer and I’m having fun with you…how does “Spirited Away” sound?” using her phone as a flash light and going over to her bag to pull out an iPad.

Tzuyu flips open the case of her tablet and sets it up on the coffee table, taking a swig of the wine and getting the movie pulled up as she sits next to you. You’re a little awe struck, unable to understand what was happening in front of you.

“Everything okay?” leaning back and putting her arm on the back of the couch so it was almost around you, you’re facing her with one leg folded in front of you.

Sipping your wine, you set the glass down on the table and return to your previous position but this time, you rest your head on your hand. Soaking her in as she does the same to you, grinning at you a she takes a sip of her own wine.

Very unprepared for what happens next, Tzuyu reaches over and places her hand on your arm. Shockwaves blast through your nervous system, causing your body to clench and release under her touch.

The place where her hand sits on you burns in the best way, an ache that makes you want to curl up with her in the middle of this storm and just enjoy this time together.

“Why don’t you go and grab some candles and that blanket and come sit closer?” Her tone is…attractive.

Tzuyu sets her glass down on the table placed next to the couch, licking her lips to get the wine flavor off them and scooting into the corner, leaving space between the two of you.

Your insides are absolutely screaming, candles? Movie? Wine? Intentionally coming over even though she knew the power was going to go out? Was this…a date? Was she…flirting?

Quickly doing as you’re asked, grabbing the massive blanket and throwing it over top of her lap and going into the kitchen to grab a few candles.

You place them on the coffee table and light them with your emergency matches before sitting next to her on the couch.

Butter and Kaya jump up and find there spots in you and Tzuyu’s lap, she hits play and the movie starts. Her arm present on the back of the couch, you’re tempted to scoot all the way into her…temptation wasn’t enough to get you to do so.

There wasn’t enough proof it was what she wanted and you were way too nervous to act on the impulse of cuddling Tzuyu.

Fighting the urge to hold her hand, kiss her, innocently touch her arm all night, you can’t just…do it, what if she isn’t into it? The comfort of her presence was going to have to be enough for now.

The thought are interrupted by a soft hand on your shoulder, pulling you in closer to Tzuyu until your body’s were anchored together. You interweave your fingers together shyly, being so soft and slow with the movements as if you were sneaking affection.

Face turning towards her to seek permission, after the hands are already entwined, you are met with her face - mere centimeters from yours.

Time stops.

Her nose grazes against yours.

Nothing else matters.

“Is this okay?” whispered to you while her eyes flicker between your lips and your lashes, searching for signs in your body language.

Nodding your head so softly, had she not been that close to you, she might not have noticed.

Your eyes dance with hers, the tango of anticipation for what was coming.

Suddenly, Tzuyu leans in and connects your mouths together in the softest, sweetest, and gentle kiss.

Fireworks.

Heart beat booming to the sparks of what was being created, the foundation of something more being built right before your very eyes.

Parting briefly for a moment, she looks at you and takes in your features, she lets you watch her do it this time.

She strokes your cheek with the backside of her pointer finger, tracing the lines of your cheekbones and moving her eyes back to your lips.

“Was that still oka-” before she can even finish the sentence, your lips are together again. Initiating something a little more passionate, bringing your hands up to cup her face and leaning further into her.

Her hands find their place on your forearms, holding them delicately while allowing you to take the lead. Fingers wandering back to entangle in her hair, you graze your tongue over her bottom lip, asking permission to take it one step farther.

Her next movement showed she consented, bringing her hands to the back of your next and allowing your tongues to meet. Innocently exploring each other, the movements gain speed as you feel like you’re ascending into heaven.

The satisfying ache of your bones drenched in honey, a thickness that could only be described as a sugary, sappy substance flooded your veins and made you instantly addicted to her.

A grandiose crescendo in the movie brings you both back down to the couch, snapping you back to the present, reminding you that this was just the first time you hung out…it was not the time to push it further than it needed to go. Pecking her lips a few times before resting your head on her shoulder, innocently.

Her heart beat is loud enough to be heard, you grab her arm and pull it around you, stretching out across the couch so you both can lay down together.

Her dogs on your laps, you in her arms, her favorite movie playing and the storm outside. All too comfortable and relaxing for the two of you.

You fight your eyes for a while, trying to combat the sleep as it fought for your attention and ultimately lose the battle.

—

The slow build of rain peacefully wakes you, drifting you out of the dreamless sleep, you let out a groan and stretch for a moment, rolling over on the couch and curling up in the blanket that was noticeably missing someone.

The tapping of claws on the floor and panting first thing in the early hours of the day were lovely, even half asleep.

The dogs are jumping on you, licking your fresh morning face and trying to get some love and affection.

“Hi hi hi!” in your groggy sleeping voice.

“Where is your mother? Where did she go?” puppy voice returning while you stand up and survey the room, noticing that the oven clock was blinking so the power was back on, and Tzuyu was nowhere in sight.

Well she had to be coming back, right? I mean the dogs are here, she wouldn’t just leave the-

The door cracks open very softly. A hooded figure steps in with a take out bag in hand, rain drops coating the water resistant jacket that was a little too familiar, and closes the door gently behind them. Taking their shoes off softly, before pulling the hood off…Tzuyu.

“Good Morning, I went out to the diner down the street to get us some breakfast! I thought it might be a nice way to celebrate the power coming back on and our first…uhm…well..” hesitating to say what you both knew it was.

“…Date?” finishing her sentence, smiling at her as you made your way up to her, wrapping your arms around her neck.

Tzuyu places her hands on your hips, slowly inching them around your waist so she can fully press her body on yours, lays a soft peck on your cheek.

Releasing you, on a mission to find your coffee stash and get a pot started for the two of you.

“What did you get for breakfast?” sitting down on the stool in front of the counter, rubbing your eyes to try and remove the sleep from them.

“Waffles. One order of blueberry, one order of strawberry. I figure we could go halfs-ies on them.” pursing her lips, folding her arms across her chest and tapping her cheek with her pointer finger.

“…and miss you trying to sneak blueberries off my plate? Not a chance.” smirking at her, knowing this wouldn’t be the last moment you brought up her blueberry thievery.

Tzuyu winks at you, before going back into her deep thought.

Unconsciously admiring her pensive face, you let her ponder for a moment. Taking in the way she shifts her weight from one leg to another, the way she hums while she thinks as if she’s talking to herself, and how she seemingly doesn’t want to ask for help locating whatever she’s looking for.

Gosh, she’s so cute.

“Whatcha looking for?” coming up behind her, sliding your hand over the small of her back. You feel her shiver under your touch before she leans into it.

“Plates.”

“Are you trying to guess what cabinet they are in?” teasing her before lightheartedly turning her face towards yours, kissing her and whispering, “Top left, over the sink.” With another swift peck on her lips and you’re off to the other side of the kitchen to get 2 cups of coffee for the both of you.

Bringing both mugs back, placing one in front of her on your way to your own seat, she’s already got the plates divided up and is waiting for you to sit and get comfortable before she starts to eat.

Breakfast together was fun, asking about favorites - movies, music, colors, animals, hobbies and just learning different things about each other, with the occasional blueberry stolen from your plate. You made sure to share, with the dogs too.

Plain blueberries, of course.

Sitting there for a good few hours before feeding the dogs their actual food and moving back to the couch, you spend the majority of the day wrapped up in each other, the blanket just adding to the coziness of your newly found crush.

“Well, it’s getting late…” Tzuyu says when the clock hits 8pm.

She stands up, the storm still ever present outside. Getting a ride in this would be impossible.

“I should probably go.”

“You know you don’t have to! It’s still storming really badly out there…and I am very much enjoying your company.” looking up at her from the comfort of your couch.

Reaching out to grab her hand, you hold her by a few of her fingers and look up at her to find eyes of someone who most definitely did not want to leave.

“I don’t want to intrude…” Tzuyu looks at the floor, waiting for you to combat her sentence, knowing you would.

You stand up, her vision following you as tou step in front of her.

You look her in the eyes, bringing your hands up to tug on hem of her cropped shirt innocently, brushing her stomach with the back of your hand while you toy with the cloth.

“You’re not. I want you to stay.” toying with the strings of her hoodie while you shyly tell her to stay with you another night.

“Are you sure? I really don’t want to impose…you’ve already put me up for a night.” giggling at her own comment, before she meets your completely serious face.

“ I want you to stay. If you don’t want to stay, then you don’t have to. I want you to be comfortable. I’m okay with whatever you decide…it is storming pretty heavily outside though and I want you to be safe.”

Tzuyu beams at you, taking her seat on the couch again and ushering you over to her. You oblige, finding your new favorite spot. In her arms.

“Hey, I was thinking…” she starts to ask.

“Would you want to go to dinner with me next weekend? Maybe we could go to the shelter together and then go get dinner afterwards?” her voice shakes, nervousness looks really cute on her.

“I’ll have to check my schedule…” poking fun at her, smirking while you did it.

“I’d love if you could pencil me in.” snapping back at you with the same amount of playfulness.

“I’d love to.” snuggling into her, flipping the TV on while the storm raged outside.

You hand Tzuyu the remote, letting her pick what you watch. She chooses some documentary about animals for background noise, both of you are too busy wrapped in each other and watching the storm to care about what’s on the tv.

It was easy to drift off into a mid-afternoon nap in the comfort of her, feeling so safe and cared for while she runs her fingers through your hair…you’ll have to remember to thank your boss the following Monday for that stupid report.

Maybe even say thank you to the sky for the rain.

[prozacwhorehouse]

omg that angus drabble.... i'm having thots dude, like him sneaking into your room after you start going out and he's all whiney and needy because he gets insatiable after his first time and you can't help but give him whatever he wants... UGH

AH sorry this has been rotting in my inbox. someone else requested clingy angus too so I kind of morphed them into one but they are also anon so I hope this makes its way to them 🙏

this is pure smut I’m sorry I need to make more angus fluff. and go to church and pray this away

—————————————————————————

“we fucked once and now you think you’re the shit, huh?” you tease as he works his way from your lips, down your neck, and across your chest, biting softly at the exposed skin of your breasts.

“you’re being mean,” he murmurs in between sloppy kisses, his words vibrating against your neck.

“c’mon, I’m messing with you.” you anchor your hands to both sides of his head to pull it out of your neck, pecking him quick but soft on the lips. “y’er cute.” you trace little circles on his cheeks as they heat up, tinged with pink. you lean down, kissing him sweetly.

“you’re so hot,” he breathes between messy kisses. “can’t believe i get to do this with you.”

“do what? you trying to get in my pants again, Tully?” you pull away, cocking a jokingly accusatory brow.

“please, y/n…felt so good last time..” he begs, an almost pathetic action for such a notoriously asshole boy. “been thinking about it all day. about you.”

“since you asked so nicely…” you coo, pressing your lips to his. what was soft turns hungry as he pushes his tongue past your lips, you’re almost sure he may swallow you whole. he makes out with you with a fervor, a neediness that he’s never exhibited. you slide your hand into the waistband of his sleep pants, running your fingers along his length. he softly grunts, struggling below you. already, he’s painfully hard, tip leaking in anticipation.

“aww, really have been thinking bout this all day, huh?” you tease, his whines only growing more desperate and frustrating. he’s straining, longing for the release you won’t give him straight away.

“y/n…” he pleads again, agitated but helpless - as if there was anything he could do. what he intended to be words, cries for help, came out as unintelligible sounds.

“use your words, angus,” you instruct, continuing to provide the most minimal contact to his dick.

“wanna fuck you…please, can I?” he asks, his eyes glassy and big, how could you say no?

“‘f course, baby,” you coo, readjusting so he were on top of you. he pauses for a moment, admiring your body. Jesus Christ, how did he land you? he thinks.

you understand he’s new to all this, so you aren’t suprised when he thrusts right in before prepping you. you crane your neck back, reveling in the tight fight.

“you okay?” he asks.

“yes, ‘s just big is all.” you wince, adjusting to his size.

“you sure?” he asks again, always making sure to have your full consent.

“yes, please…” you respond, and he begins moving his hips at a slow, eye rolling rate. the sound of him slamming against your own arousal makes him increase his speed, making you gasp at the change of tempo.

“so- so good, y/n…” he moans, “‘m gonna cum…can I?” he knows what’s good for him, asking for permission.

“yes, baby. cum with me,” you whimper, “let go.”

together your waves crash, the coil in your stomach coming undone as he fills you up, mixing with your own. he collapses on top of you, bare chests pressed flushed and sweaty together. his hot breath tickles your chest, his body slightly restricting the rise and fall of the air you’re trying to collect.

“wanna do this all the time.” he pants, looking up at you.

“we have one week before everyone comes back from break, then you’re going to have to get creative.” you run a hand through his curls, peeling pieces off the back of his damp neck.

“the math hallway is typically pretty empty. spacious janitors closet,” he casually mentions, you furrow your brow in amusement.

“you have a place already?”

“oh I have multiple. I’ve been looking, you know. just in case.”

“you’re a dork, tully.”

[castiwls]

i can fix him (no really i can) - d.w

Paring; dean x reader

Prompt; 'I can fix him. no, really, I can, and only I can'

Requested; no

Warnings; mentions of alcoholism, hes kinda manipulative idk? the relationship isn't the best 🫠

Notes i was going back and forth on if I should write this for Dean or for Anakin for SOOO long but it seems im back on my Dean brain rot.

reqs and inbox are open ! (Also inspo for this comes from here <3)

Masterlist | Taylor Swift masterlist

The sight of yet another empty bottle left a sigh falling from your lips. You looked around the kitchen for a moment, a small pit of annoyance building in your stomach as your eyes landed back on the bottle. 

That was the fifth bottle this week. You stood for a moment thinking, you knew trying to talk to Dean when he was drunk was almost like talking to a brick wall. Even more so if what you wanted to talk to him about was his drinking. Walking towards your room you ran a hand through your hair a breath leaving your lips as you tried to push your annoyance down.

Pushing the door open another sigh left your lips. “Dean?” You shut the door before walking over to where he’d slumped over on the bed. Had the last hunt really been that bad? You were more than aware of your boyfriend's less-than-healthy drinking habits but this seemed worse than normal.

Normally he could at least function enough to get into bed but it looked like he’d passed out the moment he’d sat down. “Dean” You shook his arm again, this time a small groan left his lips as he frowned in his sleep. Shaking your head you leaned down and began untying his laces.

“This isn’t healthy.” You said through gritted teeth and you pulled one boot off. “I’m not your babysitter.” The annoyance you’d previously pushed down seemed to come back in an instant and you paused. 

Looking up from your hands you frowned. You knew what you were getting into when you went on that first date. You’d watched Dean fall further and further down a never-ending black hole for years and part of you believed that you’d be able to help him.

That maybe you could pull him back from the hole. But as time passed part of you began to wonder if maybe you were wrong. Your relationship was far from perfect and you both knew that. 

Pulling off his other boot you placed it beside you before standing and pushing his legs onto the bed. You watched him for a moment before moving to sit on the other side of the bed.

“Sweetheart?” Dean's voice was corse as he squinted up at the ceiling. He rubbed a hand across his head, a dull throbbing beginning to beat against his head. Casting a glance over your shoulder you said nothing before standing and walking over to your dresser. 

Dean groaned quietly moving to sit up. “Sweetheart.” he tried again, a small frown appearing on his lips when you stayed silent. “What's wrong?” He rubbed a hand across his face watching as you turned to face him.

“What's wrong?” You said quietly. “What’s wrong is that you got so drunk that you barely made it into bed!” You crossed your arms sending him a harsh glare as you spoke.

“This isn’t healthy Dean!” 

He watched you for a moment before looking down at his hands. You knew his hangover was most likely kicking in but even through that haze he still managed to look slightly remorseful. 

You were both quiet for a moment before you walked over to his side of the bed. Dean gently grasped your arm before pulling you down into his chest. He ran a hand through your hair before pressing a kiss to your head.

“M’sorry.” He mumbled into your hair. “You always say that.” You said quietly. You felt his grip tighten slightly before he let out a sigh. “I mean it okay.” He loosened his grip enough for you to sit up. His hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing small circles. “I promise.” He smiled.

Before you could respond he leaned down pressing his lips against yours silencing the words on your tongue.

You knew his promise would only last a few days. You’d had the conversation countless times and it always ended the same. He promised you he’d get help or stop only for the cycle to begin again a few weeks later.

A small sigh left your lips as he rested his forehead against yours. 

You knew the healthy option would be to leave. Maybe leaving would give him the kick he needed to fully get help but you could never bring yourself to do it.

He was like a drug you couldn’t stop no matter how many times you tried. You loved Dean, you really did and you wanted to help him. Hell, a few months ago you’d been optimistic that you could but part of you wondered now if that was just an optimistic dream.

[a-pastel-edgelord]

Hiii. I saw ur inbox was open so I wanted to throw some brain rot at you?? I saw ur tags for the post u reblogged with Kyotani.... PLEASE GO ON. Great with kids, loves being around them, working with them—but never wants one himself? Would his partner be the same? Would he consider it with the right person? Is he immune to baby fever? SAVE ME FROM THIS TORMENT PLSSS ❤️ tyily

That was a hot fucking minute ago anon, but 🆗 tagging @mintmatcha because my idea was spawned from their text post.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

"You good?"

"Yeah? Why wouldn't I be?" You look up at Kentarō with a blink. The paper plate you'd been loading with food, is placed onto the end of the buffet table. "Is something wrong?"

The evening has been so nice—as far as you know. It's just a small cook out within the Sendai Frogs group. Tsukishima had surprisingly offered his backyard, and Koganegawa managed to procure a grill from somewhere. Daisho and Mika brought a generous amount of meat while you brought the veggies and rice. Yamaguchi and Yachi are going to arrive a little later with watermelon and booze (as an apology for having to work regular nine to five jobs). Tsukishima's older brother is in attendance as is his girlfriend(?) Saeko—she insists everyone call her by her given name.

There's laughter, music and good food. Everything is as it should be. So why does Kentarō look... anxious?

"Nevermind." He shakes his head as if to clear it. "Eat, go grab a chair."

You nod, picking up your plate and eyeing him as you go to sit. You find an empty spot next to Mika. Daisho just got transferred into the team from the Tamaden Elephants. Apparently he and Kuroo go way back. You can hear Tsukishima complaining about him with Daisho providing enthusiastic support.

You fight to keep a grin off your face and you end up catching Mika's eye. "Tsukishima's favorite pastime is shit talking."

"Oh, I'd call it Suguru's hobby!" You both laugh. "How long have you and Kyotani been together?"

Is this what Kentarō is worried about? Mika isn't the least bit scary. "Since highschool graduation actually. He confessed to me after the ceremony."

"Oh, so you two went to the same school!"

"Nah, I went to Date Tech—I was the manager of the volleyball team. Kentarō and I met through a local gym that had volleyball nights. Then our teams played against one another." You raise a cup in Koganegawa's direction, he promptly drops what he is doing to wave back—spilling water all down his front. Mika laughs again but you just sigh. "He skipped his own graduation ceremony just so he could cheer me on at mine."

"Wow! That's so romantic!" She sighs dreamily. "That'll be a good story for your kids, huh?"

Ah. Of course, you think, they wouldn't know. "Kentarō and I aren't going to have kids."

"Huh?"

You shrug, forcing nonchalance into your expression. "We talked about it and decided we're good as we are. We've gotten quite a bit of grief from our families about it too."

You don't look at Mika, not wanting to be disappointed. You like her, you don't want to give up being her friend. A hand falls on your shoulder. You meet her gaze, it's firm. "It's your business. A child is not a decision to be made lightly."

Relief, cool and sweet, sweeps through your bones. A smile blooms across your features. "My thoughts exactly."

You search for Kentarō, finding him rolling his eyes at Koganegawa's wet shirt. You barely have to stare at him for more than a second before he snaps his gaze over to you. You hold the contact, giving him a gentle wave. He signs to you, all good?

Yes, you sign back, all good.

[oscquinn]

DAY ONE → apocalypse, lip gallagher

TAGS & WARNINGS → honestly not much, js mentions of an apocalyptic society. otherwise fluffy!

WC → 662

you’d never thought you would live to see the day that life as you knew it fell to ruin. it happened quicker than you could’ve ever imagined. one day you were nineteen, smoking a joint out the gallagher boys’ bedroom window, swapping kisses with lip while ian rolled his eyes, and carl tried to steal the goods right out of your hand. then suddenly your family was gone, the city wasn’t safe anymore—not that it ever had been, but it was much worse now—and you were piling into a van with all seven gallaghers, your eyes set on the safety you’d heard of in more rural, southern parts of the country. the way veronica cried and clinged to fiona as she said goodbye was burned forever into your brain.

three years later, you were making do in the shadow of the appalachian mountains. it was honestly cruel, the beauty of what surrounded you. outside of chicago the land had stretched on forever in uniform, level plains, and while you’d always said you hated it, what you wanted now more than anything was to see those stupid boring fields again. the land here was sickeningly gorgeous, with the high altitude making way for clouds to kiss the mountaintops which your town was settled beneath. 

lip sits in the open window, his eyes glancing between your sleeping form, and those same mountains you’d traveled through years ago. he watches the faint lights of the high society assholes who drive up there, passing over the dark underbelly of their society without a thought. he watches as the sun rises, then watches as you slowly blink awake in the pathetic excuse for a bed the two of you share. 

“lip? come t’bed, please,” you mumble, and he obliges. the bed dips as he lays next to you, bringing one arm to circle your waist. “’s apple pickin’ day, y’need to rest” you murmur to him, one finger gently stroking the bridge of his nose. he would never admit it, but he loves the sensation. 

“eight fuckin’ mile walk, all f’some apples,” he says in a low grumble, but you can see his mouth is turned into the barest hint of a smile.

it’s not long before he drifts off, the exhaustion taking over his body. you untangle yourself as quietly as possible, giving yourself time to take some semblance of a bath and tuck your hair into a neat style to keep it out of your face. when the sun starts to crest above the mountaintops you wake him.

lip grumbles, of course he does, but he drags himself out of bed and the two of you start off towards the orchard. a few hours in the cool autumn air have you arriving at the small, abandoned tourist town.

lip catches sight of an old country general store, and he elbows you gently. “y’think i can find a pack ‘f cigs in there?” he asks.

you shrug, standing at the top of the hill and looking down over the expanse of the orchard. neat rows of trees with rotted wooden labels boast bright red fruits on their untrimmed branches. for the first time in recent memory you truly smile. 

wind sweeps across your face as you turn back to him, slinging the empty backpack off your shoulder to fill it with the prized fruits. “i dunno, i’m gonna go pickin’,” you say with a kiss to his cheek. 

before you can take a step lip hooks a finger in your belt loop. “nuh-uh baby, y’re stayin’ with me.” he ignores your grumpy expression, gently tugging you with him towards the store. “we don’t know what fucked up shit is down there. i’m keepin’ you in my sight so i know y’re safe.”

you want to pout, but the simple action shows you how much he cares for you. words are hard for him—emotions even harder—but he shows you in these small ways. it warms your heart.

MASTERLIST || INBOX

[piecesofeden11]

SNIPPET!!!!

I have been tagged and messaged (and I still have an inbox full of lovely, lovely responses to my writing motivation request which I still hope to honor) in many, many ways that amount to: POST A SNEAK FROM A CURRENT WIP .... and with the roaring of ROTS love fresh in my veins and ears .... HAVE SOME PUPPETS!!!!!

You are tired, Kenobi, that is all he chided himself.

The fact that he had had to cloak his presence in the Force for the better part of three standard weeks (back-check with rest of the story) did not help, either. He tried to not dwell on the gaping hole that was Anakin's ever present signature, the aching wound where their bond usually glowed.

When Master Mundi had instructed him to keep himself hidden, so as to not give himself away to the Sith, he had protested, but been overruled by two thirds of the Council. He still felt that it had been an unnecessary step, seeing that Grievous had not been sensitive to the Force, merely cleverly constructed to wild lightsabers at a near-Jedi level.

And yet, you complied, because you always do as the Council says.

The disdain-filled voice at the back of his mind sounded a lot like Anakin these days.

Obi-Wan sighed, rubbing his temples. As soon as the debrief with Commander Cody was finished, he promised himself, he would break the silence and reach out to Anakin. The thought gave him more motivation to quicken his steps than he cared to admit and he soon reached the large hangar where the 212th had already gathered most of the non-droid Separatists.

He found Cody standing by himself at the edge of the landing platform overlooking the canyon and the last of the air skirmishes.

He nodded briefly in acknowledgement, when Obi-Wan came to stand beside him. "What's the status, Commander?" "We are in the process of rounding up the last of them, Sir,. Should I call the transport down form the base?"

Obi-Wan contemplated it for a moment. Returning to the Negotiator now would grant him time to shower, maybe even meditate, and get word to the Council, that the mission was done.

It would also give him time to speak with Anakin. He felt the absence of their bond keenly, and longed to open it up again, knowing that Anakin was just as, if not more impatient to hear from him.

A chirp behind him brought him back out of his thoughts and he found Boga approaching him with haste, dragging an exasperated clone trooper behind her.

Obi-Wan had to laugh, waving the poor man off, who seemed more than glad to be rid of the overeager Varactyl.

Boga chirped again and proceeded to nuzzle her giant, beaked snout into Obi-Wan's side. In turn, he reached up to the spot just behind her feathered neck where he knew she preferred to be scratched, whispering his thanks to her for her bravery in the pursuit of Grievous.

Still petting the creature, he turned back to Cody.

"I think I will stay a little while longer and help with the clean-up."

He had never believed in leaving the tedious aftermath of battle to his troops and would not start now, even though this day felt like it might very well be the end of the war. At last.

"As you wish Sir."

The Council would have to wait a little longer. As would Anakin. The emptiness in his chest stung sharper, but he tried to ignore it as best he could.

Obi-Wan!

[tsuiioku]

— 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉 𝖇𝖊𝖙𝖜𝖊𝖊𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖊𝖘 .ᐟ · 𝔬𝔰𝔞𝔪𝔲 𝔡𝔞𝔷𝔞𝔦 ༉‧₊˚

𝖘𝖚𝖇𝖒𝖎𝖙𝖙𝖊𝖉 𝖗𝖊𝖖𝖚𝖊𝖘𝖙 𝖋𝖗𝖔𝖒 𝖆𝖓𝖔𝖓𝖞𝖒𝖔𝖚𝖘 ⇢ "I have an idea maybe a old bookstore date with Dazai would be so cool :D"

𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖓𝖙. f!reader. tooth-rotting fluff. established relationships. forehead kisses, teasing, quiant bookstores cuddling, romance. dazai is a menace to society, but secretly soft. not proofread. 1.4k+ words.

𝖆𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗'𝖘 𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖊. this was the request i accidentally misread in this post. so sorry! it's been months since this was placed in my inbox, but i haven't been able to get around to requests in a while. thank you for patiently waiting, and i hope you enjoy! ٩(^ᗜ^ )و

would you like to see more? fill out the taglist or comment under this post.

𝖘𝖞𝖓𝖔𝖕𝖘𝖎𝖘. an earthy aroma permeated through the air, a collection of different smells gathered from every page and cover as the warmth of the room clashed with a battering from a faltering AC unit that kicked on and off.

OR you drag your boyfriend into a bookstore, and shenanigans ensue.

The devilish brunette dared to chuckle under his breath, head held high as he paraded you down the street, hand-in-hand. For someone who had been the brunt of a heavy lecture by the agency's resident stickler, he was in a delightful mood. Not that Kunikida's scolding had ever been able to properly put Dazai in his place.

You had entered the office after an extended morning mission, only to be dragged out again; the only clue to your sudden kidnapping was the twitch of Kunikida's brow as you were flung out the door, clueless to the occurrences that had occurred moments prior. When questioning Dazai about it, he simply met your inquiries with a cat-like grin.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

You deadpanned at his obvious avoidance of the question, though quickly relented to his schemes. If there was one thing anyone knew about Osamu Dazai, it was that he always got his way, one way or another. And it was rare to have any time off, so you decided not to think about whatever strings he pulled and enjoy your time together.

You scrolled through the map on your phone, lips pursed. "Has anything new opened recently?"

"You know, we could just—"

"And no," you cut him off, striking him with your eyes. "We are not jumping off another bridge. You remember what happened the last time you decided to test gravity?"

He pouted, bottom lip jutting out. "It's not my fault. The bridge was higher than it looked."

You rolled your eyes. Dazai was such a man-child sometimes.

He perked up, his eyes sparkling. "What about that ramen shop down the road?"

"No," you grimaced, nose shriveling. "They have flies."

"The bar on the corner?"

You shook your head. "Too many rowdy guys."

He whined, flailing his arms into the air. "I give up! Just tell me—"

Only to realize that you were no longer walking beside him. He paused, staring at the empty space before his eyes dotted back. You had stopped before a window, eyes wandering across the inside of what he had surmised to be an old bookstore. He froze as you glanced up at him—he knew that look.

"No, no, no!"

RING!

He cried out for anyone to help as he was dragged inside, acting more like a toddler than a loving boyfriend as he clawed at the doorframe, only to be pulled in inevitably. The older woman at the register stared incredulously at your odd behavior, though you had long become accustomed to the stares you received in public with Dazai.

"I don't wanna go!"

"Calm down!" You pushed him into a chair in the corner with every ounce of strength. "Stay right here. I'll only be a minute."

He groaned, flopping back into the chair with a brilliance only someone in theater could muster, legs swinging over the arms of the chair as he continued to gripe to himself. You hid your laughter behind your palm, lest you incur his infantile wrath, walking into the next aisle.

He didn't want to admit that this store was quite lovely. An earthy aroma permeated through the air, a collection of different smells gathered from every page and cover as the warmth of the room clashed with a battering from a faltering AC unit that kicked on and off. And it was tranquil, not eerily so, but a stark contrast from the loud traffic outside, especially since no one else was around. It was a quaint little store that was an obvious magnet for little bookworms like yourself.

As the seconds flew by, Dazai tapped his foot to the beat of an ancient cuckoo clock that stared at him from the wall. Minutes passed, his head lolling back against the head of the chair, breath pacing to a slow point.

CUCKOO!

He had no time to brace himself, startling as he tumbled out of the chair with a thud. His groans were the accompanying chorus to the clock, which he stared at in scorn. Damn. It had already been forty minutes. What were you doing? Even through the tinted windows of the store, it was clear that the sun had begun its descent in between surrounding buildings.

He pulled himself from the uncomfortable floor and started his search, but it didn't take any time at all to find you.

"There she is."

He was about to call out, but his complaint became lodged in his throat. Instead, he hid in the next aisle, peeking between the cracks of another bookshelf. It seemed that you hadn't noticed time had passed at all, eyes glued onto the page of the book cradled in your hands. In fact, several other books were stacked next to you on the floor, awaiting your watchful eyes. Your expression could only be described as a kiss upon a cloud, fingers nestling the pages of the book with such care, eyes scanning every word as you intended to soak the story in.

A part of him felt jealous. How could an inanimate object take up so much of your time? Time that was supposed to be focused on him! But there was another part of him; he couldn't quite place it.

You finally spotted him as he rounded the corner, sparing a glance at one of the clocks as the realization struck you, turning back with a crooked smile.

"Sorry. I lost track of time."

"Here." His fingers braced against your shoulders, carefully prying your aching back from the unforgiving bookshelves as he settled in behind you, much to your surprise. "That's better."

"D-Dazai, what're you—?"

"So, what's this one about?" His arms slung around your waist, practically a second nature for him as he enfolded you in a koala-like embrace, your back snug against his chest.

You only blinked, and a knowing smirk grew on his lips. "Use your words, love."

You sputtered, slapping his arm with the book before managing to settle yourself, stifling the heat that threatened to take over your whole body.

"It's a romance novel."

He raised a brow. "Romance?" He chuckled, and you did not want to address the way the low timber of his voice made your limbs turn to mush. "While I am an expert in the field, I would love to hear what seems to strike your particular fancy."

But you met him with hesitation. "Are you sure?"

"What?" he cooed, his nose nuzzling into your neck, the warmth of his breath prickling your skin as he laid down a path of kisses along your throat. "Is it so hard to believe I want to hear your beautiful voice?"

You resisted the urge to squirm away but sighed, looking down at the page. It would be nice to read to someone, would it be?

He barely paid attention to your narration of the book itself, occupying his thoughts as he toyed with strands of your baby hairs between his fingers, his ears picking up the shift of your tone, mellifluous in nature. He hadn't processed precisely what you were saying, but he couldn't help but be enraptured in the rise and fall of your voice, filled with emotion as the story rose to a peak. Neither of you had paid attention to the kisses that he littered across the crown of your head, the motion only settling the butterflies in your stomach to sleep.

As the clock ticked forward, your words began to haze, slurring together as you crawled toward the final page.

CUCKOO!

This time, no one was startled by the intrusive sound. The sun had set into the horizon, leaving you within the glow of faded lamps and flickering lights; the book slumped over in your lap as your breath drew deeper, eyes fluttering closed. Dazai smiled, no mockery or tease, careful not to wake you as he lifted you bridal-style. He was surprised you didn't stir, not once, even while he half-hazardly managed to pay for the book with his spare cash. The woman at the counter was even nice enough to take a few dollars off, too distracted with cooing at your sleeping form.

His little charmer, even while asleep. Awfully cute.

RING!

"Osamu," you mumbled, voice lethargic as the bell and brisk air stirred you from your slumber. The incessant tease shushed you, kissing your forehead with a smile.

"Shh. Rest, love."

And he walked on into the night. Another satisfying date under your belt, if slightly unconventional. But he wouldn't have spent his day any other way. It was worth the lecture.

TAGLIST: @imhandicapableofmath @lovedazai @osameowdazai @ruru-kiss @ishqani @zyilas @lovesick-fairy @fedyascoffin @squigglewigglewoo @kelperspelt @miloofc @thesilvernight0wl @s1eepybunny @dazaisms @deepseafragments @ajaxism @himikoslove @little-miss-chaoss @sillyspookycat @aureatchi @mxxny-lupin

© MUSAMORA 2024 — do not repost or modify my works for any reason. do not steal graphics w/o explicit permission. reblogs are appreciated.

[snowfires]

Confirmed horrordust? Tell me more 👀

Combining this with your later ask because I am very behind on my ask inbox!

The later ask being: “Horrordust is canon for this fic?! YES. Can’t wait to see ur interpretation of their 'relationship' together. So who made the first move? Bet it was horror right?”

Horror and Dust are unspoken datesmates—they’ve never had a proper conversation about it and don’t call each other that (at least… not often and never in public). Their relationship just naturally evolved, and they had a special bond since Dust joined the team.

Nightmare of course knows of their romance thanks to his empath powers. But Cross and, to a lesser extent, Killer, don’t know the full extent of it.

Horror was both the first to make a move and the only reason Dust even joined the team.

The Backstory: Nightmare recruited Horror a decade before he attempted to recruit Dust. When they stumbled upon an empty genocide timeline with the only survivor being a Sans, Nightmare figured it would be a good time to get another like Killer. Horror wasn’t keen on high-kill missions from the get-go, and as the years passed and he started to heal from everything that happened in Horrortale, he wanted to dedicate most of his time to supply runs.

So, getting a new skeleton to assist in careful assassinations and outright genocides of overly-happy AUs made logical sense.

Except, Dust wasn’t like Killer.

Dust’s AU had stopped resetting after a while, leaving him completely isolated. He had defeated the human, but could never restore his AU and its people. He had killed them all, permanently.

When Nightmare offered Dust to join his team, Dust refused. Firstly because he believed he deserved to stay in his AU and rot after what he’d done. Secondly because there was no way in hell he was giving an encore of his actions, not to save his home or fuel his addiction to LV, but in service of some ‘king’.

No matter how many times Nightmare, Killer, and Horror returned, Dust’s response was always the same.

At first, Horror disliked Dust. But the more he saw him, the more he softened up about him. While Horror would never kill anyone from his Snowdin, let alone Papyrus…. He couldn’t remember resets. He didn’t know what it was like to live the same scenarios hundreds of times. And the more Dust spoke—usually in conversations with his ‘papyrus’—the clearer it became that Dust never wanted this outcome.

If Horror could consider Killer family, why should he turn away someone who was actively atoning for his sins? Besides, it’s not like he had never wronged. Never killed.

So while Nightmare gave up on recruiting Dust, Horror returned. Over and over. Eventually, he convinced Dust to leave his AU for a short trip. Naturally, he brought him to the one place every Sans adores—OuterTale.

Dust broke. He’d never seen so many stars before—and they were in space. It was the first time he’d felt happiness—true happiness, not the rush of LV—in hundreds of resets.

After that, he welcomed Horror’s visits, until Horror eventually convinced him to join Nightmare. They aren’t Nightmares servants—they’re a family. He looks after the broken and ‘evil’ as his own, and they support his quest for negativity to reign supreme.

Horror and Dust’s relationship turned romantic very slowly. Dust suffered from intense nightmares, hallucinations, and LV flares—moments where he needed to kill. Horror was the one who be found the most comfort with.

Overtime, they began sleeping together every night (to the point where Nightmare had to get them linked bedrooms), spent movie nights curled against each other, and began to leave the castle just the two of them. Eventually, they had accepted each other as datemates.

The only time they actually call each other datemates/mates is when they are alone after one of them has had an especially bad day or is sick. But they are datemates nonetheless.

[princess-tulip-writes]

squirting with eris 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰😻😻😻😻😻🥰😻🥰🥰🥰🥰😻😻🥰🥰😻😻🥰🥰😻😻🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰😻😻😻😻😻😻🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰😻😻😻😻😻😻🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰😻😻😻🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰😻😻😻😻😻😻😻😻😻😻🥰🥰🥰😻😻😻😻😻🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰😻😻😻🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰😻😻😻😻🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰😻😻😻😻😻🥰😻🥰🥰🥰🥰😻😻🥰🥰😻😻🥰🥰😻😻🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰😻😻😻😻😻😻🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰😻😻😻😻😻😻🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰😻😻😻🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰😻😻😻😻😻😻😻😻😻😻🥰🥰🥰😻😻😻😻😻🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰😻😻😻🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰😻😻😻😻🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

this has been rotting in my inbox, but today i finally finished it. thank you @redbleedingrose for pressuring me into posting something today, since i cant keep you waiting. i hope this is any good. enjoy!

“open your fucking mouth, slut.”

his harsh tone caused a small whimper of both pleasure and fear to leave your lips, but the delay in your obedience provoked him to dig his fingers into your jaw by squishing your cheeks together, parting your lips just enough to slip a dollop of spit between them and onto your tongue.

he grinned wickedly in satisfaction as your throat bobbed when your swallowed his essence instinctively, making your eyes light up slightly from his approval. if there was one thing that you wanted more than some mercy during your punishments, it was eris’ validation; a little could go long way, and besides, that grin looked striking on him.

“that’s my girl.” the heir groaned, stuffing his cock inside of your sopping cunt a little deeper as a reward for your good behavior so far. a broken gasp left your smooshed lips as his tip nudged against your sensitive wall and pulled back, before being pressed against the same spot again.

your eyes rolled backwards, your hands searching for the male’s hot skin to grab at while he dragged his dick along the insides of your velvety cunt oh so slowly. in a desperate pursue of something to latch onto, you slapped your hand on anything in it’s path as it traveled until it finally landed on his wrist, your fingers immediately wrapping around it and digging your nails into the scorching flesh.

his thrusts sputtered for a moment before a low hiss was sent into the night, but not before your gaze sent shivers of pleasure down his spine and heavy sack.

“please, ‘ris.” you whined. “need m-more…please, ‘ris.”

the last plea was small, nearly a whimper of lost hope but the moment it reached his ears, eris already made up his mind.

placing a soft kiss on your forehead, he snickered to himself.

“course you do, little slut. hold on to me, okay?” he warned softly, letting his mask lift for a mere second— something he only did for you— before maneuvering you until your body was being lifted off the mattress as you clung onto his shoulders.

it didn’t take any more than a few seconds of readjusting to his length before he began pounding into your cunt, each thrust never failing to hit a secret spot that had your mind melting into mush.

your legs shook violently around his waist, causing you to dig your heels and nails deeper into his skin. the pain only made the male growl and go harder, repeading the cycle until you were a drooling mess buried in his neck.

your release was close, your stomach twisted in all sorts of knots

eris smirked down at you, the pace of his hips quickened until his balls slapped against your ass harsh enough to make it sting— but the slight pain only made the feeling even better. you cunt gripped him tightly and kept pulling him back in for more with each thrust, like it was desperate to continue the abuse given to your sensitive, gummy walls rather than be empty for more than a millisecond. the sensation made the male’s eyes roll.

“don’t you dare stop squeezing my cock like that, my slutty mate. don’t you fucking dare.” he growled through gritted teeth.

a high pitched whine fell from your lips from his demand, and it wasn’t for the way your cunt was already clamped tightly around him, you would have made an effort to keep it that way. but you haven’t needed to even try, the way he fucked into you guaranteed you weren’t going to loosen up any time soon.

eris hissed when your nails dug crescent into his shoulders as the knot in your stomach began to unravel itself, ignoring your attempts to slow it down.

“i’m gonna cum!” you gasped out, clawing at his shoulders and screwing your eyes shut as you squealed in pleasure.

“cum for me, princess. cum for your lord, show him how good he makes your little cunt feel.”

a feeling of white hot euphoria washed over you as your climax shot through you, and before you could register, a liquid coated both you and your mate’s privates and lower torso. you blinked as you heard the splash, but eris didn’t to seem the flatter at the noise or the wet feeling. instead, his hips slowed as if to give you some recovering time for a few seconds, before picking back up again.

“my slut’s taking my orders so well now. all you needed was just some cock to remind you of who you obey, hmm?” he chuckled before placing a soft wet kiss to your lips, a contrast to the way his teeth tugged at your bottom lip seconds later. “such a good fucking girl for making a mess for me.”