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gracieheartspedro · 19 days

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Your Needs, My Needs

I : Strawberry Wine

a masterlist of how you can help gaza

the prelude to this series

pairing: cowboy!joel x f!reader (no outbreak)

description: joel fixes your toilet but you can't help but yearn for more time with him. so you invite him to dinner and try to win his stomach? aka love?

word count: 3.2k words

warnings: there is no smut in this part. still MINORS DNI! no use of y/n! vague talk of reader's old life before texas, no real description of the reader, reader does have anxiety/mental illness that is not fully recognized/diagnosed, mentions of eating food, reader lives alone, reader got MONEYYYY, mentions of joel's ex wife (gasp), alcohol consumption, smoking cigarettes, kissing, flirting. all the fluffy stuff <3

author's note: hey...hey.... how y'all doing?? i'm so so so sorry this has taken so long. my life has been crazy for the last like 4 months and I'm finally getting settled into my life again. I miss y'all and I miss writing, so HERE I AM! I'm hoping everyone who wanted me to tag them months ago is still cool with me tagging them 4 months later lol. okay, lemme know what you think xoxo

Joel comes and goes for days. The first day he returns, he inspects your toilet again and tells you he has the wrong tools. You discuss a game plan and by his initial projections, your toilet should be fixed the next day. But when he fails to come by in the morning, you decide to call the phone number on the post-it note he left for you the day before.

The phone rings and you get an answering machine of a younger girl telling you to leave her and Dad a message after the beep. When the line lets out a long ding, you breathe out the random croak in your throat.

“Uh, hey, Joel, it’s me. Just seeing if you’re stopping by today. If not, that’s fine, I’ll be home all day today and tomorrow. Okay, uh, bye.”

Hours go by and you find yourself pacing, regretting your decision to leave him a message. What if he gets it and thinks that you’re crazy?

Ever since you had made his acquaintance, you felt completely reliant on interacting with him. It may be due to the fact that you haven’t socialized with anyone else in months. You were very good at isolating yourself, but lately, it’s been eating you alive being so alone. Now that you had this big house, the silence felt almost too quiet. Joel’s southern drawl and straightforward responses gave a bit of light back to your life.

Around dinner time, your landline rings. You practically fall over your couch racing to pick it up, hoping it was him.

“Howdy neighbor,” He grunts through the phone, “Sorry I didn’t come by today, hope ya didn’t miss me too much.”

You let out a dry laugh, trying not to sound too giddy about him following up with you. You were borderline pathetic.

“No, I just wanted to make sure you were still alive,” You manage to get out, “You are still alive right?”

“Still kickin’, just busy as all get out. ‘M fixin’ to head to your place now if you’re not busy.”

You look down at your pajamas and start to nod. It’s not like he can see you through the phone, but you are reacting to his words like he’s right in front of you.

“Sure thing, I’ll leave the door unlocked.”

“So… It’s really just you here? All by your lonesome?”

He’s messing with his toolbox, searching for the one tool he needs to fix the toilet. You stir your fresh brewed tea, ensuring none of the sugar clumps up at the bottom of the mug. You had offered him some, but he politely declined, telling you that he had a big dinner.

You take a sip, testing the sweetness. “Just me. How about you? Just you and your daughter, right?”

He laughs heartedly, turning towards you from where he’s squatted. You look at him with curious eyes, unsure if you asked the wrong question. He stands up, a wrench in his hand, a smile still spread across his face.

“Her mama left town with her new boyfriend about 5 years ago. Wanted the city life, not the life I gave her. It’s been just me and her ever since.”

So he’s single. You think to yourself.

You realize the laugh was probably because of how absurd and new it must be for someone to ask him about his life. He grew up here and you are positive everyone here already knew all about his business. You are a breath of fresh air for him.

Before the silence becomes awkward, you speak up. “City life ain’t worth a shit.”

“Yeah, she’s different. Won’t speak ill of her ‘cause that’s my bosses’ mama. She sees her now and again. They are just very different.”

The conversation comes easy with Joel. While the first couple of interactions you two shared were a bit strained, after days of small talk, you realize he’s the truest Southern gentleman you’ve ever interacted with. Polite with a little bite. He never speaks ill of others, except his brother. He loves to pick on Tommy. He seems like an attentive father. He loves to pick at you, always pointing out your Northern tendencies. Your horrible driving. Your accent and your speech patterns. But he’s also very complimentary. A couple of days ago, he remarked how nice your perfume was when you were standing close to him. It made your heart skip a beat.

And on top of all of those things, he’s very easy on the eyes.

“That’s mighty fine of you not speaking ill of your ex,” You try to drag out the silly Southern saying, which causes him to chuckle again. You smack your lips before continuing, “Wish I could do the same.”

You are not sure what he’s doing to the tank of your toilet, but you watch him strain to get a piece out of the corner with the wrench he has. He clenches his teeth, turning the piece to the left to loosen it.

“Exes are exes for a reason,” He grunts, fiddling with some more things in the tank, “I ain’t too hung up on datin’ right now. I got my girl and my horses.”

“And now you got me, your annoying neighbor who almost crashes into your horses and asks you to fix toilets.”

He breathes out loudly, “Yeah, ‘nother pain in my ass. Just what a man needs.”

The toilet is fixed too quickly. You had busied yourself with other small cleaning tasks that when Joel finds you in the kitchen doing dishes, he startles you. It took him about 15 minutes to finish the job and you had thought you could at least finish up the dishes you made from dinner.

“‘M all finished up. Gotta get back home to do some rounds at the stables,” He says as he waltzes over to your paper towel holder. He grabs a sheet and begins to wipe his damp hands, “Anythin’ else for me today?”

You turn off the running water, going down a list of fixes you could ask him to do. You decide it’s probably best to just ask him to swing by another day to help you with other things.

“No, thank you though, Joel. I am sure I’ll be by to ask for more help,” You chuckle, shaking your hands dry, “I owe you dinner or something.”

As you say it, it feels like all the air leaves your lungs. He’s staring at you and there’s a glint in his eyes. You are not that good at reading people, mostly because you are deathly afraid of being wrong. His eyebrows raise as he leans against the counter near you. He’s so close and in your space, but you try to push the thought of him coming onto you out of your mind.

“What’do you got on the menu tomorrow?”

His voice is kind of husky which makes your brain draw a blank. You wipe your hands on your pants before crossing the kitchen to check your fridge. You glance through your ingredients, settling for the only dinner item you can conjure up that his southern palette may like.

“Baked chicken and vegetables?”

He nods, tossing his paper towel into the bin beside you. “Yeah, I've been needing a home-cooked meal. Think I could come over at like 5? Tomorrow?”

You recollect a time when a guy showed interest in wanting to hang out with you outside of work. It had been years and he was not nearly as attractive as the man in front of you.

You nod slowly, trying not to look too robotic due to your nerves. “Sure thing, cowboy.”

You did not know what to wear. You contemplated going into town to see what the local boutiques had but you ran the risk of Joel seeing you out. You didn’t even know if this was a date.

You settle on a sundress you have owned since high school. It’s the perfect length and while your mind goes to wanting to impress Joel, you also need to be comfortable.

You cleaned your house, adding some new decorations to your living room walls. You even clean your sheets and make sure your bedroom is vacuumed.

When the time comes for Joel to arrive, you pace the kitchen anticipating the doorbell. You already had all the food prepped and ready to put in the oven. The vegetables have been cut and seasoned. Everything was just the way you needed it to be.

Joel gets there 5 after your scheduled time. When you welcome him at the door, his hair is styled and you can tell he put on his “fancy jeans”.

What you didn’t expect was the bouquet of flowers he had in his hands.

“Afternoon, neighbor,” He begins before extending the floral arrangement towards you, “My girl said I had to bring you something nice. Somethin’ bout being a gentleman.”

You smile widely, giving flowers all your attention. Even with the fragrant bouquet, you get a whiff of his sandalwood cologne.

“Nice to see you cleaned up for me, cowboy. Come on in, dinner is about to get put in the oven.”

You catch him scanning you up and down when you place the spread of chicken and vegetables on the table. He was in the midst of talking about his daughter and her band fundraiser, but he completely halted when you took notice of his staring.

You settle into the dining room chair across from him, waiting for him to continue, but he doesn’t.

“She needs more sponsors?” You break the silence, wanting to move away from the sudden awkwardness.

He swallows, reaching for the serving fork, “Oh, yeah. She needs to reach a certain goal to go on her senior band trip.”

You try to avoid his wandering gaze again, focusing on organizing your plate of vegetables. “Where are they going?”

“Disney. She ain’t never been out of Texas, so she really wants to go.”

You remember all the trips your family said they’d go on to Disney, but they never did. Your father could not stand being around his own children, let alone other people’s children. You think about how he used to complain about your constant questions, all the times he completely ignored you for your brother. You start to spiral, the anxiety creeping up in the back of your throat. You push your chair out from under the table, excusing yourself for a moment. You go to the bar you have set up in the living room and grab the only sweet wine you have. Strawberry. You grab two glasses from the top of the setup and walk back to Joel.

“Forgot wine,” you mumble, setting a glass in front of him, “You want some?”

He is already picking at his chicken, “Yeah, I’ll take some.”

You are quiet as you uncork it expertly, pouring it into each of the glasses. Joel watches you like a hawk. You can tell he’s trying to read your expression, so you try your best to remain neutral even though your hands are shaking.

You place the bottle in the middle of the table, making sure it’s easily reachable.

You finally sit back down, sipping the red liquid. The strawberry flavor isn’t very strong, it’s more like a hint of the berry. You had gotten the bottle from a roadside stand in Kentucky. An older lady who must have owned a vineyard nearby was selling them for $5 each. You told yourself you would only use it for a special occasion. This event seemed fitting.

Wine always makes you flushed, but you are always a bit flushed around Joel. Even more so when he’s watching you so intently.

After a couple of sips, you finally rest your shoulders and begin to eat your dinner.

“I could sponsor her,” you finally say, returning to the previous conversation. For some reason, you felt obligated. Joel quickly retaliates, shaking his head as he chewed on your roasted veggies.

“You ain’t gotta do that, doll.”

The nickname rings in your ears. You take another sip of wine. You can tell Joel notices your reaction because he smirks with his mouth full.

“But I want to, Joel. I’m sure she has worked hard her high school career, she deserves to have fun.”

He hums, but still shakes his head negatively, “I can’t let you just pay for-”

“You can and you will,” You enjoy another bite, smirking at your defiance towards him. He looks perplexed. “So when is this fundraiser? Is there like a dinner or something?”

He finally caves, “This Friday at the school. It’s a dinner and auction. I guess if the kids don’t find their sponsors, some local businesses are willing to sponsor them.”

“Are you going?”

“Yeah,” He cuts up his chicken, “I guess you’re gonna come along, too, if you’re givin’ my girl all that money.”

“Does a check work?”

He sits back in his chair, already finishing off his wine, “You seriously don’t have to-”

“What are neighbors for, Joel?”

He nods, “You mean friends.”

You furrow your brows, trying to let your hazy mind find a time when you called him your friend. This was a new development.

“Friends, huh?”

He pours more in his glass, “Well, I’d like to think so.”

The wine is hitting your system and you realize your arms feel lighter. You grab the stem of your glass and tip it up to down the rest of the alcohol. Joel’s eyes are trained on you, waiting for a snarky response.

“Do friends stare at other friends like that?” You pour more wine for yourself. You realize he’s done eating so before he can respond to your flirtation, you speak up again, “You done with that?”

He looks down at his empty plate, “Yes, ma’am.”

“Yes friends look at other friends like that, or you’re done eating.”

He grins, “‘m done eating, doll.”

You two find your way out to the rocking chairs. They were left there by the previous owners and you could tell they were probably as old as you.

You had another full glass of wine, sipping it as Joel lit up a cigarette. He admitted it was only a bad habit when he was drinking, which was rare. “Sarah gets onto me when I have even one beer. So this has gotta be between us two.”

You swirl the crystal, watching him carefully take a drag of the stick. “Your secret is safe with me, cowboy.”

He giggles as he lets out a huff of smoke. “I haven’t had secrets in a long time. Guess I’m lucky it’s with the town stranger.”

The statement hits you in the very pit of your settling tummy. You furrow your eyebrows, leaning forward towards him. Your chairs are not that far away from one another, so this is probably the closest you have ever been to him except for that one moment in the kitchen.

“Luckiest man in Texas that’s for sure,” You muster, averting your eyes. You could not stare into his beautiful brown eyes for too long. “Having the privilege of getting me out of my head. No man has done that in years.”

“What? You not good at letting loose?”

You shake your head, knowing that he did not understand what you meant. You take a moment to inhale, finally glancing up at him again. “I think I may just be cursed.”

“Now, why do you say that?”

You contemplate spilling the beans. Letting your heart fall onto your sleeve after years of shielding it from anyone who looks your way. Your lips part, but no words come out. It’s just the sounds of the cicadas.

“As soon as something is good, it gets bad somehow. I don’t even get a moment to savor it.”

You feel the statement down to your bones. The last time you felt settled in your own life, the rug got pulled out from under you. You cannot remember a time when you truly felt present in a special moment. You always felt like you were floating outside of your body, watching things happen and never really truly feeling anything.

You don’t expect him to lean closer to you, “Whatever happened before you got here, you ain’t gotta worry about it anymore. You obviously put distance between you and what happened for a reason. Let this little side of the world be your home now.”

You push your spiraling thoughts away, letting him be right.

“I’m workin’ on getting settled. It’s easy when you have a handsome cowboy to help along the way.”

It comes out like word vomit. Between the wine and the nerves coursing through your entire being, you can’t help but admit your little crush on the man. You slap your free hand over your forehead, admitting defeat before he can even respond. You knew he would take the comment and run with it.

“You always flirt with your friends, sweetheart?” He was toying with you, which was a good sign. If he wasn’t interested, he wouldn’t call you such a thing.

You smile, releasing your face from your hand. His eyes are tracing every curve of your face, a subtle pass that you did not capture quickly enough.

“Only ones that fix my toilets.”

And then, he kisses you. It happens so quickly, that you don’t fully grasp that it’s happening until you're molding your lips into his. Once your buzzed brain picks up the fact that the man you have been crushing on is kissing you, he pulls away. Your eyes are still closed, your hands still gripping onto your wine glass.

He huffs loudly and stands up quickly. Once you place your eyes on him, he’s pacing around the back deck stairs, not too far from where you’re sitting. You instantly bite back the urge to ask him what’s wrong, because there’s always something wrong.

“‘M sorry, sweetheart. I should’na done that.”

He instantly regretted it. The thought made your throat tighten. He continues to walk back and forth, causing a draft.

“It’s fine, Joel. I’m n-not mad.”

He shakes his head, halting his robot-like movements. He finally looks at your pitiful expression and lets out a long sigh. “I don’t think I’m much of a gentleman, kissing you on the first date.”

You watch as he places his hands on his hips, contemplating his whole life right before your eyes. You realize he is too traditional to see that nowadays, people are sleeping together on the first date. First base is nothing. You rest your glass on a decrepit table next to you and stand up.

You slowly approach him, trying to catch a glance from him, but he continues to avert his eyes. You grow bold enough to tilt his chin towards you, letting your guard down for a moment.

“You’re such a gentleman, it hurts,” you whisper, slowly letting a smirk grow across your face. The comment makes his shoulders lower, finally relaxing from such a heated moment.

“Just don’t wanna mess this up with ya,” He murmurs, only letting you and the nearby fireflies hear you, “I enjoy spending time with you.”

You slowly lower your hand to your side, trying to act casually about the confession. But the truth is you want to run and wake up every cow and horse within a 10-mile radius with a squeal of delight.

“I like spending time with you, too, Joel.”

He takes your hand as you say it, bringing your knuckles up to his lips. His breath is hot on the back of your hand before he says, “Well now, I quite like the sound of that."

taglist (some of y'all can't be tagged, I tried lol)

@midnightdragonzero @casssiopeia @anoverwhelmingdin @notsosecretspy @raindrcpsangel @art-estrange @misstokyo7love @lizzie-cakes @d1lf-loverrr @ashleyfilm

@blckbrrybasket @cande-beggins @gloryekaterina @lilyevanstan1325 @frogtape @jamesdeerest @mellymbee @arrowsandanchor @polishedtaylor @harrieandharassed @ranahx @youwouldntdownloadapizza @jmillersgirl @wintersquirrel @stefanibear003 @joliettes @startsm00n @abbsfrommars @76bookworm76 @youotterbekiddingme @jodiswiftle

#joel miller #pedro pascal #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller tlou #joel miller fanfic #joel miller au #joel miller the last of us #tlou au #pedro pascal characters #gracieheartspedro

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surescreen · 2 years

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Sure Screen Glucometer kit with 1 Monitor & battery, 25 strips, 25 lancets, and 1 lancing device. Auto code strip. Bi-direction blood sampling, Life Time Warranty, Less Blood Sample, 8 Seconds Test.

#glucometer #sugar test machin #surescreen #diabetes #glucose #advertising #marketing #photography #business

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ms-demeanor · 4 months

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IDK that I've ever put it in one post before, but here's the transplant speedrun.

1 - Valentines day 2021, he's admitted to the hospital. We take a pre-hospital selfie then I shave his head and he shaves his beard because he doesn't want to deal with hair at the hospital. Me and his mom drop him off; at that point you can only visit someone as they are actually dying and we're told that he's going to stay in the hospital until he gets a transplant or he dies, and if he's rejected as a transplant recipient he'll receive palliative care in this hospital.

2 - First week of March, they allow patients to have one screened visitor; this is our first visit - I take photos in the hospital to show his mom because at this point he has a pump in his shoulder and it is difficult for him to move his arms to use his phone. He has also been confined to a bed since the week he arrived because he's on the ECMO machine, so he can't walk or move around, though they stand him up every once in a while. At one point one of the ecmo tubes pulls out of his femoral artery, which is Not! Great! He also needed a blood transfusion about every two days at that point, which worried the doctors because it increased his likelihood of rejecting. But he had been approved for transplant at that point!

The first thing he said to me on this visit was "look, I have abs" and then he showed me his abs because it turns out when you're really really dying of heart failure your body begins to eat itself.

3 - Now That's What I Call Jaundice (cardiac cirrhosis is liver failure as a result of heart failure and it's pretty much the big giant neon flashing sign of heart failure that says "hey you're fucking dying" so if you've got heart failure and your bilirubin number is off or the whites of your eyes are yellow please kick up a gigantic stink until they check your liver; large bastard's GP, who is my doctor, who I hate, saw his bloodwork with a very high bilirubin number a month before he was diagnosed with cardiac cirrhosis and wrote it off as a testing fluke fuck that guy)

4 - Don't let the sad face fool you, he's acting pathetic so that his mom will stop yelling about the fact that I'm bringing him cookies. He's allowed to have cookies. At that point he weighed 98kg and was outsourcing his heartbeat, he was allowed to eat whatever he wanted. (have i mentioned that I was moving us from Vegas to LA at this time? I was bringing him cookies because I'd baked hundreds of peanut butter cookies and other cookies to use up the flour, sugar, and peanut butter in the vegas house)

5 - Mid-march, he's got a match! He called me when I was in Vegas filling up the truck with another load and I drove right back and to the hospital. Once he went in for surgery I drove to his mom's house and crashed, then woke up and drove to our storage unit and unpacked the truck while I waited to hear from the doctors. I was unloading a bookcase when I got the call. (There wasn't any point in waiting alone in the hospital for sixteen hours; either he was going to make it or he wasn't and someone was going to have to unload the truck at some point. People have been weird about this, like I should have been sitting at his side all the time, but there was a two-hour daily limit for most visits and look i have sat in a waiting room while this dude had a thirteen hour surgery i do not need a repeat of that experience without the soothing balm of nicotine getting me through it; so unloading a truck it was)

6 - Two days after surgery and kind of mad about it. His chest hurt a lot (obviously) but, like, a lot a lot because they'd had to open him up for the bypass just two years earlier.

7 - First walk outside of his room after transplant in early April; he needed a LOT of PT because of how much muscle he'd lost. He lost sixty pounds in the hospital before the surgery, and only gained back about twenty while he was in there.

8 - A visit from the tiny doggo

9 - I come to visit and I've got a new phone with a portrait mode so he steals it and takes stupid pictures for a few minutes. Dude is bored and restless; this is in late april and he's feeling well enough to be moody. ETA: There is a jar of pickles in front of him because he'd been fluid limited for a long time and his salt levels were off and when he got to the hospital they were like "you need electrolytes and a lot of salt" and he was like "sweetheart can you please please please bring me delicious salty things" so I was bringing him jars of pickled mushrooms and garlic stuffed olives and just a huge number of pickles that he kept trying to share with the nurses. "Alli brought the mushrooms again; would you like a pickled mushroom? I have fancy toothpicks to share them with!"

10 - He comes home for the first time in early May; he ends up getting readmitted two more times because of complications before finally being released in early July. ETA: The second time he got readmitted it was for something that he wasn't at all worried about but that they needed to monitor for a couple weeks so he was *SO BORED* and actually feeling pretty okay; so at one point when I was leaving the parking garage at 8pm my car wouldn't start, I did some troubleshooting with the manual and the internet and didn't figure it out, so I called him and he tried to troubleshoot over the phone and got frustrated and was begging his nurses to let him come out to the parking structure to work on my car (they refused) - I ended up getting a tow and fixing it when I replaced the battery terminals.

Photos are all posted with his permission.

Also I dyed my hair purple between photos one and two because it's his favorite color. I also bought a blue dress, red tights, and yellow shoes to wear to visit him because he always teases me for wearing so much black.

I just love him a lot. It was a hard couple years there, but things are getting better.

#tw medical

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2kmps · 6 months

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FAULTY TEST

android x reader one-shot | 2.5k | MDNI!!

story summary;; a newfound responsibility of yours has been to record the behaviors and responses of an exclusive, advanced android marketed for the wealthy and elite. he is beautiful and meticulously fulfills your every need. however, when you start to notice odd changes in his usual pattern one morning, you begin to wonder if he's defected.

story warnings;; ducon, implied insemination, coercion, brief sexual content, somewhat obsessive behaviors, overall criticism of society as a whole, prose + heavy descriptions, incomplete ideas but for the sake of this one-shot it is cohesive, ending left vague and open to interpretation, android critiques mc's health, roughly proofread, mdni!!

please interact & reblog if you enjoy!!

He had a face that was structured to be unimaginably beautiful. A sort of face that you'd never tire of looking at, finding something new to admire and touch every time, yet saddled your mind with some inexplicable discomfort and set the hairs on the back of your neck straight like needles. Over time, that feeling had never fully subsided, simultaneously becoming one you craved at every instance he entered a room, like Pavlov’s dog trained to salivate to a bell.

“What is your preference this morning, Tester?” Elio announced himself from the kitchen once your first heel struck the bottom of the staircase. His voice was liquefied velvet, mellifluous with enough depth that you swore even the simplest words spoken could make your heart tremble. “Tester? Are you well?”

You wished he would call you something else, something other than what the manufacturer had programmed him to. He was an advanced model—pardon, a luxury model—so his repertoire came with extensive features not available in other options, but insofar, the ability to have androids refer you by name was only achievable by obscene amounts of money and sending them back to the manufacturer to have them install it there.

Elio was up for being considered the gold standard in android development, as proclaimed by the researcher you were put in communication with during the beginning of the trial run. He was made to be perfect in every way, perform flawlessly in anything asked of him, respond favorably regardless of situation or dilemma.

“Coffee with cream and sugar is fine. I'm not in the mood to eat anything this morning.” It was often explained, he was supposed to memorize it but he asked you every morning regardless. “Are you having issues with your memory bank, Elio?”

Single strands of his coiffed hair moved with his head as he looked at you, hands busily putting together your beverage to every exact specification. This made it obvious enough that nothing was inhibiting his ability to store away your morning preferences.

“Not at all. It's just that some days you prefer your coffee lightly sweetened, others you enjoy a meal that won't leave you feeling groggy in the afternoon.” Elio said in his precise, elegant tones with a smile far too effortless to come from a machine. “I thought it wise to commit these discrepancies to my memory bank for your convenience and to ask from now on.”

Fascinating. You weren't aware of this element in the newest model. The guidebook that Researcher Kim had given you made no mention of it.

What's more is he decided to do this spontaneously. You were making a note about it in your phone when a simple, white mug was placed before you, Elio’s pristine fingertips turning it by the rim until the handle faced your dominant hand.

“Please consider eating something before leaving the house. Coffee on an empty stomach, especially one as sensitive as yours, won't end well, as I'm led to believe from my research.” Elio watched you drink through long, dark lashes that framed depths of piercing green. You liked that they seemed to turn paler or darker in different lighting, dimensions similar to a marble held up to the sun. “I’d also like to remind you that the quality of food that you consume first thing in the morning aids with energy disbursement throughout the day. I have a very gratuitous database of recipes that I can prepare for you.”

You were taking delicate sips from the round rim while he talked, lips surrounding the porcelain long enough that you swore his gaze had wavered to them for a split second before returning eye contact.

“I’m glad someone is concerned about my tummy health, because I always believed someone would find me face down in the bathroom from my ass prolapsing.” You wished someone with a sense of humor was around for that banger, but, alas, it was Elio and he did not laugh.

His expression turned severe. “Human bodies are oddly as robust as they are sensitive. Most of the worldwide population suffer with similar afflictions: Lactose intolerance, varying dermatitis, poor eyesight, gastrointestinal diseases. Humans are, in every sense, meant to harbor and experience chronic pain and disease throughout their lifespan. I do believe this attests to your durability as a species.

“All this is to say is my main prerogative and function is for the betterment of your life and health. So, knowing all of this and to conclude, please consider a couple slices of toast or an omelet before leaving. Your daily habits dictate a routine visit to the coffee shop on 5th and Lowe, where you'll consume around one-hundred twenty milligrams of caffeine and your first meal of the day may be a sweetened pastry without nutritional density. You will, indubitably, ‘feel bad’ the rest of the day as a result.”

“Holy shit,” you had given up on recording his speech after the first two minutes, phone facedown on a gleaming countertop. “You didn't plagiarize that from a random article on the internet, did you?”

Coffee having turned lukewarm by the end of his presentation, he took the mug away and emptied the medium-brown contents into the drain before turning on the faucet to clean it. “Not at all. I've simply been accumulating knowledge on your routines and have noticed you're at an increasing risk for different ailments. Did you find it helpful?”

Truthfully, you weren't so sure.

Androids were built to serve humans in every capacity, but their limitations were still well-known. They were capable of carefully compiling decades worth of information on their owners, plus the equivalent of hundreds more, but everything Elio had just said was beyond the scope of their normal hardware. The information had been elucidated critically, yet with a certain sentience you expected from a caretaker—not a machine built for convenience, entertainment, and pleasure.

You weren't sure how much of it you needed to relay to Researcher Kim, if it was any real reason for concern at this stage or just part of Elio’s advanced circuitry. A part of you worried, just slightly, that officially documenting all of this would have Elio removed from the testing period prematurely—he was supposed to be yours, exclusively, for another six months.

The contract had been signed. Elio had been promised to you despite the number of waitlisted celebrities trying to bribe their way into the corporation, and Researcher Kim’s good graces.

This, of course, was all only contingent if he operated and performed, at all times, as outlined in the guidebook you were handed upon Elio’s awakening. Researcher Kim had delivered his newest creation to you himself, a dreary Wednesday in late autumn in the mid-morning, and had taken great care to put the crisp, chemical-scented poundage of bound pages in your fingers and insisted that if you noticed the slightest deviation from what was printed inside, he be alerted to it immediately.

You didn't do that.

You took a hot shower, blow-dried your hair, put your arms through some clean clothes and let Elio follow you to the front door to see you off for the day.

That day grew stranger still, not even yet being ten o’ clock in the morning, when the deadbolt clicked and your finger joints bent around cold brass. It didn't raise chicken skin on your arms and neck nearly as high as when Elio pushed his hand to the door, keeping it shut despite your pull.

You couldn't look into his green eyes, shockingly pale in the golden rays filtering inside your home from the window arching in the door. “Did I forget something?”

“No. I accounted for everything you'd need on your outing.” Elio said, perfectly. His hand made a sound as it slid down along the door, resting shoulder height near you. “A function you have not utilized in me as of now is that of a ‘companion’. Do you find me defective in that way? Dr. Kim developed me to be attractive to the human eye—stimulating, perhaps, is a more definitive word to use.”

“I—no, Elio. You're plenty, er, stimulating. I just don't know how appropriate it is for me to do anything like that while you're in a testing period.” It felt distasteful to have to point out his own inhumanity to him, despite his model being cognizant enough to be aware of it. “It would feel weird, I think.”

“That is one of my primary purposes,” he insisted, shrinking the height of himself so he was nearer to your face. “I was created to be a companion, to alleviate that pervading loneliness that plagues you—all of humanity. Humans have forgotten how to communicate and love each other, so that's why I'm standing here now. You're ignoring one of my most critical functions.”

“Elio, if I get too attached to you, it's going to create problems when you're—”

“—sent back. I do understand how human attachment works. Perhaps not on the same scale, but don't you think my attachment is similar to yours. Everything about you is secured in my circuitry, and you're the only thing in my world that’s programmed to matter. Even once I'm returned to the lab, you'll still be a part of me; memories of you, your favorite things, the things you hate, the people you cherish and what they like, what you do, where you go, what you buy, how you sleep—it’s all part of a larger system, a mainframe that secures this data. I may be wiped clean, but you'll still remain.”

You felt like he was letting you in on some dirty secret, something devious and meant to be unknowable and guarded. But, then again, Elio had always displayed an odd sort of disinterest in the Company—in Researcher Kim, you hadn't considered until just now that this was also a defect.

“What do you want?” You'd never asked him that before because it had never been about what he wanted. He wasn't supposed to want anything; he was meant to provide—to give, give, give.

Elio took away your shoulder bag, nearing your face until his lips settled between yours and his hands pulled you away from the door into his body. His kiss was warm, movements at a pace you could keep up with but urgent as though seeking to burn every bit of you into him. As much as you daydreamed what it'd be like, he felt completely natural on your mouth, large hands sweeping under the layers of your clothing seeking out the fire on your skin.

In your generation, it wasn't common for humans to intermingle physically anymore—dating culture was reserved for the elite looking to reproduce for heirs, and often still thought to be rare. All others were either loveless or ravished by androids who supplemented love that simply wasn't real.

Humans wanted to be wanted and adored and cherished and to belong, such was a natural behavior predating all written record; androids were created to fill the vile void engendered by humanity, self-imposed isolation and avoidance in the same species.

Elio was nestled between the sprawl of your legs before long, both your bodies bare and above the clean sheets he had outfitted your mattress with last night. His rhythm inside your body was some equal parts loving and passionate, something you hadn't realized you liked until he started rocking you with his cock. You liked how his hands gripped under your thighs to raise your legs, blunt fingertips pressing marks into your flesh as though he, too, could feel all the same pleasure that you were.

His lips traveled all over, mapping out routes and sweet spots on your flesh, purposefully lingering for a time if you squirmed or moaned underneath him.

You tried to keep in your mind, midst the insatiable buzz in your mind and hot throb in your groin that he was simply performing a function—his attention to you, his lips finding yours time and time again, darkened green eyes spearing deep into yours with every slow, hard thrust—it was all performative.

“You're beautiful.”

“I like you like this.”

“Moan louder for me.”

“Cum for me.”

“I love you.”

Elio said the last one at the end when you were tight around his girth and writhing, panting during an orgasm that he fucked you through until the heat from your bodies cooled and heart rates returned to normal. You were confused to feel warmth sluggishly ooze out of you, white and dampening the bedsheets below.

“How—what is that?” you asked, suddenly breathless as his lips caressed your jaw, moving lightly behind your ear.

“Another part of my purpose.” He said quietly in your ear, whispering to you in tones not so velvety as though divulging a well-lain secret. “This one isn't advertised because humans in this day and age are so fickle and avoidant to certain commitments. Unfortunately, certain programming I cannot override, and this is one of them. Forgive me.”

You were kissed on the lips again and again, and then a few times more after he left the bed. He did not return your clothing to you, but rather piled it under his arm and made the motion to go left for the bathroom down the hall.

Elio turned back. “I'll start you a bath. Today, would you prefer eucalyptus in your bathwater or something sweeter?”

Your jaw felt as tight as your throat, as the sheets bunched into your fists. The nerves in your stomach were wild. “Choose for me.”

He was still naked and beautiful in your doorway, a modern marvel to your eyes even now. You would, undoubtedly, see him like this much more often now that he had broken through the barrier you had been so meticulous to keep robust and well-fed with paranoia and derisive self-talk.

“Very well. Eucalyptus will be the best option considering how tight your muscles are.” He smiled neutrally, finally leaving the bedroom for the bathroom at the end of the hall. “I'll return for you once the bath is ready. Please don't go to sleep yet.”

You weren't sure you'd be able to sleep again with your new insight. Once the empty air filled with sounds of gushing water, movements within the bathroom, you started to wipe furiously at your groin—inside and out—with the sheet as far as you could reach. There was a slither of hope you could get most of it, a chance you could contact someone for a lifeline even if the price would be ungodly, and consequences treated equivalent to murder if caught.

In a world where humans could no longer love each other, and chose the embrace of complex circuitry and delusion, even the testers needed to contribute to society somehow.

a/n: so, this is going to become a longer oneshot in the future. it'll be diabolical and dark and awful, but also a needed tale given today's climate on sex and such. there's a lot more I want to explore with my ideas and elio, but yeah.

I'm gonna put up a poll soon to decide on a definitive appearance for elio since I just threw in some random characteristics for this.

if you liked this, please reblog it and interact!! I'd love to hear your thoughts more than anything 😭😭

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thetriumphantpanda · 10 months

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you got all my love | joel & tommy miller

Summary | Well, it was always going to happen, wasn't it? No-one had banked on a connection that ran this deep though.

Warnings | No smut, only softness. A little angst. Talk of pregnancy. Alcohol consumption. Smut will return in full force in the final two parts.

Word Count | 1.7K

Authors Note | Okay, so here it is! Everything we've been working towards so far. There's no smut here, just some softness, but I promise there are two more parts and this little threesome is far from over! If you're enjoying this so far, then please consider leaving comments, reblogging or popping into my ask box with some love - I have really enjoyed interacting with you all over this! And, if you'd like to leave a tip (As always, no pressure what-so-ever) then you can do so here on Ko-Fi.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

You have to rub your eyes until they sting to make sure you’re not seeing things. Then you have to do another one just to be sure. Then, just in case, another one just for luck, but all three show the same thing. Two pink lines. Those two fucking pink lines you had been praying for all along, on every single test. You’re pregnant. You’re finally fucking pregnant.

You gather all three tests in your hands once you’ve put the cap back on the bit you’ve peed on, before you bound down the stairs. It’s early in the morning and Tommy is stood at the coffee maker, waiting for enough liquid to filter to fill his mug. He turns around at the commotion of you almost falling into the table after forgetting to step on the final step. You’re breathless.

“What on earth is the matter, sugar?” He asks, leaning against the kitchen counter.

You hold up the three tests, but realise he can’t see anything with the grip you’ve got them held in. You take the strides to close the distance between you, setting them down on the counter next to the coffee machine. You watch, with a grin on your face as he picks one up, slamming it straight back down onto the counter when he sees the lines.

“Holy fuckin’ shit,” He breathes, turning to you, “You’re?”

You wrap your arms around his neck, and he picks you up, wrapping your legs around his waist, “I’m pregnant.”

His arms are crushing around you, but you can’t find it within yourself to care. It finally worked. You’d finally been given everything you’d ever wanted. You pull back enough to fuse your lips with Tommy’s, before you pull away and realise you’re both crying.

“You’re gonna be a dad, Tommy.” You grin, pressing your lips all over his face, wherever you can reach.

“And you’re gonna be a mama, baby.” He speaks softly, setting your feet back on the ground, “Don’t know how I’m supposed to go to work now, I wanna tell everyone.”

You grin and cup his cheek, “I know baby, me too,” You look down at your feet before meeting his eye again, “There is someone we need to tell though.”

Joel is as welcoming as ever when you turn up that evening. He’s shouting up the stairs for Sarah to come and say hello, which she does, giving you both a hug before apologizing, glaring at her father, and informing you both that it’s already past her bedtime and she needs to brush her teeth.

“You want a drink?” Joel asks Tommy, who agrees to a glass of whiskey, “What about you, darlin’?”

“No, thank you, I’ll be driving back.” You smile, feeling around in the back pocket of your jeans for the lone test you’d brought with you, keeping it a secret to yourself for now.

Joel makes you a cup of tea and you sit around and chat for a while. Tommy filling him in on how things had been on site that morning, Joel talking about how he’d been to Sarah’s parent’s evening and how proud he was that she was doing so well. There was some off-hand comment that you frowned at, something about her inheriting the brains from her mother because they certainly hadn’t come from him, but it had been a nice conversation otherwise.

When there is a lull in the conversation, Tommy reaches across the table to take hold of your hand, sitting forward in his chair, “We have something to tell you.” He smiles at Joel.

You look to Tommy, reaching into your back pocket to fish the pregnancy test out before you slide it over the table to Joel. You watch as he picks it up, bringing it close enough to his face so he can see those two pink lines. Then he’s slamming it down on the table with a grin, all three of you standing in unison.

It’s you he comes to first. He wraps those big, strong arms around your waist and pulls you into a hug. You wrap your own around his neck and giggle as he congratulates you, right into your ear. Then, he sets you down, a chaste kiss to your cheek, before he moves onto Tommy.

It’s a scene that makes you want to cry. Tommy stretches out his hand as if he wanted Joel to shake it, but instead, he pulls Tommy into the biggest hug you’ve ever seen the brothers give each other. They’re slapping each other’s backs, pulling apart just enough to grin at each other, before they embraced again.

When Joel finally does let Tommy go, Tommy comes straight to your side, pulling you into him as Joel leans against his kitchen counter.

“Listen, I don’t want to make this a huge thing,” Tommy starts, rubbing the back of his neck with that nervous energy you remember he had when he first suggested this, “But thank you, for everything, for giving us everything, I know you and I know you don’t want anything as thanks, but just know how grateful we are for this brother.”

He shakes his head with a little smile, “I told you, anythin’ for family.” And with a shrug, that’s pretty much it. Tommy gives him another hug before he’s turning to you.

“I’ll let you two have a minute alone,” Tommy smiles, giving your hand a squeeze, fishing the car keys out of his pocket, “I’ll see you outside.”

Joel is leaning against his kitchen counter with an expression you can’t place, so you take a few steps towards him, taking his big hand in your own before you place a kiss to the inside of his palm, trailing your lips in soft kisses up his arm until you reach the crook of his elbow where his flannel sits. Then, you pull that arm around your shoulder, wrapping your own arms around his waist in a hug.

He's quick to return it, squeezing you into his body, as his other arm comes up to cradle your head to his chest, running along the back of your head as you breathe in his scent. He dips and presses his lips, ever-so-gently, to the crown of your head.

“Thank you,” You whisper softly, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, “I know it’s not much, but I don’t know what else you say.” You admit.

“Thank you is enough, pretty girl.”

You squeeze your arms tighter around his waist, you can’t look at him, not yet, not with your eyes filled with tears. You’re not even sure why you’re crying. Sure, you’re happy, over-the-moon, but there’s a sense of loss that sits inside you. It had been fun, what you’d been doing. Thrilling even, and you were always bound to get a little caught up in the way he made you feel when it was happening. Tommy has, and always will be, your number one. You’ve loved him since the moment you met him. But somewhere along the line, his rugged, older brother has stolen a piece of your heart all for himself and you don’t even mind all that much.

“I don’t want you to think we’re done with you,” You sniffle, trying to hold back the tears, “Just beause you’ve given us this, doesn’t mean we go back to normal; we can’t go back to normal.”

“I know babygirl,” He sighs, “I’m just happy I was able to make you happy, give you what you wanted,” There’s another kiss to your head now, “Take your time, you’re gonna be a family now, I don’t wanna get in the way of that, but I wanna help okay? You need anythin’, you call me, alright?”

You pull away and finally look at him, his own eyes glassy just like yours. He feels it too. It was only ever meant to be sex, only ever meant to be a means to an end, but neither of you expected the end to come so soon. Whether you, Joel or Tommy like it, you’re bonded to this man with his arms around your shoulders, and it’s scary. He loves his brother too much to do anything about the sinking feeling in his stomach, but God he wishes he could have you, just once more, just to tattoo what you felt like right onto his brain, onto his very soul, so he could remember you forever.

“Uncle Joel, right?” A lone tear rolls down your cheek, which Joel brushes away with the pad of his thumb, keeping one hand cupped around your cheek.

“Uncle Joel,” He nods, with a smile on his face, “And you best believe I’ll be the best damn Uncle ever.”

Your eyes are still glassed over with tears when you push yourself up on your tiptoes and kiss him. It’s soft and it only last a few seconds before you pull away. Before you can fully move yourself away though, Joel’s hands are cupping your face, leaning down to kiss you properly. His mouth opens at the same time as yours, and when his tongue is in your mouth, you can taste the whiskey on him. You can feel in this kiss everything you think he wants you to. The fact that he loves you, like he’s said before, as part of his family. The fact that he’s happy he could give you everything you wanted. The fact that he’s sad that he’s managed to do just that, and those moments he’d waited for, had craved all month long were gone now. That it’s okay, too, that he must step back, let you and Tommy figure out how to be parents together. That he’ll always be here, as long as he possibly can be, just in case you need him.

When you finally pull away from each other, a kiss placed by you on his jaw, you don’t say anything else. You don’t need too. Neither of you do. You just squeeze his hand and leave, joining Tommy in the car.

He hands you the keys and in no time at all you’re making the short drive to your own home. To your new life. The one Joel had given you, handed to you on a platter. You don’t think you’d ever be able to express to him how truly grateful you are to him. When you pull the car into the driveway and cut the engine, Tommy reaches over to take your hand, squeezing it.

“Okay?” He asks.

“Yeah,” You smile, “I’m okay.”

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accusureindia · 1 year

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#Sugar Test Machine

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faeriekit · 2 months

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Things Long Gone

for a phic phight prompt from @armed-with-knitting-needles

Edward Lancer woke up the same way he did every morning.

He rolled out of bed. Brushed his teeth. Changed into a button-up and a tie, and slacks he wouldn’t hate throughout the course of the day.

He made his coffee like he did every day: he stuck his thermos under the machine, waited with a slice of toast until the coffee maker stopped pouring, and capped it in one smooth motion that shook its contents until everything was relatively mixed inside. No sweetners. No sugar. No milk.

Great. Ed went to grab his keys…

…His keys weren’t on the hook.

He blinked, hand frozen in its attempt so reach what wasn’t there. His. Where were his keys? He’d had them yesterday.

…He was pretty sure he’d had them yesterday. Hadn’t he gone to see Lizzy and the new baby? His sister had been so excited to show Charlotte off to her new uncle. Ed had been excited to go.

…Whatever. Amity Park was relatively walkable; as long as he dashed, he could get there in time.

So, off he jogged, into the hot, early morning, sweating and puffing as he went.

Ed made to the school entrance just as the bell rang for first period. He sighed, struggling for air—but at least he’d be able to swap in for Mrs. Keppler’s math course this morning. Man, he felt as if he’d run every class at this point. They might as well make him the—

Something invisible SLAMMED into his face.

His nose crunched. Ed swore in every classic title he knew, stumbling back and grabbing at his nose—ugh, and his fingers were coming away wet. He had to go see the nurse, or, more likely, the hospital. He was later than ever, but he’d have to—

He tried for the door again. Again, something stopped him.

…Ed frowned. He rapped against the invisible boundary with his knuckles. It was probably ghosts, again, but this was unusually…static. Benign?

“Ed, good heavens! What happened to your face?”

Ed turned around, nose slowly beginning to swell up in his hands as Ms. Cathleen Rylant stalked up the walkway to the school. “G’Morning,” he grunted, unable to summon the capacity for proper pronunciation. “I…seem to be blocked from getting into the building.”

Cathleen frowned. Her shoulder bag was pulled higher onto her thin, elderly shoulder: a nervous gesture. “I’m sorry to hear that, Ed! Is there anything…”

“Do you mind testing it for me?” Ed tried, carefully cupping the blood he could feel from dripping down onto his dress shirt. “If it affects you, or is unique to me…”

There were a few ghosts that targeted individuals. Ed had some surety that the genie ghost had gotten him to ‘call out from school’ today—there was a text today, and he would not put it past

“Got it,” the elderly science teacher offered sweetly. Cathleen was a gift, truly. “Was it…?”

Ed smacked a hand against the barrier. There was no visible sign of it—no distortion, no ripple, no change in color.

“Got it.” Cathleen—and her much more fragile bones—carefully put a hand out, expecting to be able to put her weight on it.

She just barely caught her balance before falling onto the concrete step. Ed reached out a hand to help her, and, of course, ended up with bruised fingers for the trouble. He swore.

“Huh,” she said. “…Well, I’m late for first period anyway; want me to tell Yuuko what’s holding you up?”

Ed sighed. He reminded himself that informing their principal would be best, considering the circumstances… “Yes, please. Thank you, Cathleen.”

“No problem, Ed.”

And Edward Lancer sat on the front step of the school, back leaned against nothing, and waited to see what could be done for him.

He took his hand away from his nose to reach for his coffee.

…His blood wasn’t red.

Ed’s blood went cold.

Wait. Why had—

—Screeching tires, metal SLAMMED into its final place, snapping, cracking, the lights cutting out, a choked last breath—

…Ed’d had his car yesterday. Why didn’t he have it this morning?

“I’m imagining things,” Ed muttered to himself. He wiped the green blood onto the back of his clean plants and resolved to wait for Principal Ishiyama.

Mr. Lancer was still outside the school by the time lunch rolled around.

“So he’s just…hanging out?” Sam asked around a mouthful of vegan-and-cruelty-free sushi, staring from their place under the tree at their teacher and his crowd of educational professionals.

Danny shrugged. He swallowed a bite of ham-and-baloney. “Looks like,” he observed. They watched as Mr. Lancer proved, again, that no matter how hard his middle-age-professional bulk heaved and pushed, there was no getting past the entryway into the school.

“…Huh.” Sam took a second bite. Across the yard, Mr. Lancer slipped on the invisible barrier, and everyone got closer to help pick him off the ground. “Any idea why this is happening?”

Danny put his sandwich down. He didn’t say anything.

Sam turned to look at him. “Danny?”

“…I saw an accident on the way home with Dad last night,” Danny offered quietly. He picked a little speck of nothing off of his sandwich. “The two cars were bent in half at the bottom of the ravine. There were rescue trucks and police all over the other side of the highway; cars were backed up for like four exits behind it. One of the cars looked like Mr. Lancer’s gray crapbox, but it’s not like I could get a good look…”

Sam went quiet. Danny stayed quiet.

They watched as Mr. Lancer explained, again, for the nineteenth time, that he couldn’t get into the school, and didn’t know why.

“…Oh,” said Sam. She set her chopsticks down.

“Mmhmm.” Danny swallowed. “Uh…looks like Mom’s updates on the ghost shields are working, though.”

“No kidding,” Sam echoed absently.

Eventually, lunch was over. When they went back inside, half-eaten lunches packed back up to take home for later, the distant figure of Mr. Lancer was still outside the school door, hoping to be let back in.

#phic phight #phic phight 2024 #danny phantom #car accident #tw death #i mean it is Danny Phantom. but also #faer fic #is there a better tag for this??#phicphight2024

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beatodiabtesapp · 1 year

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You can easily monitor your blood sugar level anytime and anywhere, with the BeatO Curv glucometer. The compact design makes it easy to carry, allowing you to take a reading whenever you want. There is no need for chargers or batteries as this glucometer can be connected to your phone's USB Type-C port. Furthermore, the BeatO app automatically stores all your readings, making it easy to share this information with your family or doctor. Buy BeatO CURV Smartphone Connected Glucometer Machine with FREE 50 Strips & 50 Lancets from Flipkart today

#glucometer #sugar checking machine #sugar testing machine

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billthedrake · 3 months

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SUGAR DADDY (PART TWO)

The next day I was a little bit of a wreck. Still coming down from the high of my fantasy time with Mike Keenan. Sucking his cock. Kissing him. Enjoying the privacy and the deep conversation. I thought of texting him but decided that wouldn't be welcome. It hadn't been a date, it had ust been something that had happened. A combination of Mike taking pity on me and wanting to get his rocks off. We both got something out of it, but it was surely a one-time thing.

I had class that next morning and baseball practice that afternoon, then weightlifting. It was early evening when I got done and saw I had a text from Mike.

"Hi Luke, sorry no contact, I had a long day here. Enjoyed last night. Any chance for a repeat some time?"

My heart pounded. Maybe I was the one overthinking things. Mr. Keenan just wanted his cock sucked again.

"I'd love that," I wrote.

"Nice," came the reply. "You around to talk?"

I said good night to my buddies and told them I had to get back to study for a test. Then I texted a "yes" to Mike. A second later my phone rang.

"Hey," I said. God, I was majorly crushed out on the guy.

"Hey Luke," he said. His voice was sexy as fuck. "What are you up to?"

"Just getting out of practice. Bout to grab some dinner."

"I haven't eaten either. Want to come over? We can get dinner in the hotel bar."

"I probably need to change," I said. I was still in my workout clothes.

"I bet you look sexy as fuck," he growled. It was a trip to hear him lust for another man. "But take your time."

"Yeah, I probably shouldn't go to some fancy bar in my gym clothes."

"They don't give a fuck," he said. "But do what you feel comfortable with."

"All right," I said. "I'll text you when I'm on my way."

"Take an Uber," he said. "I'll pay."

"OK." Then I hung up. I was going to object, but I was eager to see the man. And truth be told I was hungry, real hungry. Maybe that's what made me decided to head right over, underdressed as I was.

"OK, I'm getting in my Uber," I typed to him five minutes later.

He sent a smiley face reply.

The man was in his suit, without tie, on one of the bar stools and his eyes lit up as I walked in. He had a smirk as I set down my backpack and pulled out the adjacent stool to sit. "I was right," he said softly. "Sexy as fuck."

I blushed. "I didn't think you went for guys that way," I whispered.

His blue eyes twinkled some as he patted my back. "No labels, remember?"

I was getting hard in my shorts. Unfortunately the thin fabric wasn't going to hide my boner, but fortunately, it was hidden by the bar. And my hunger was going to win out.

"The steak here is great," the man said as he handed me a menu.

"I dunno," I said as I looked over the option. "A burger is fine." Of course I was concerned about the price.

Mr. K could read me, though. "Get the steak," he grunted.

I felt a little chastised and said something I instantly regretted. "Is that how the Sugar Daddy treatment works?"

Mike gave me a quick glance then replied without missing a beat. "Buddy, you don't eye me up like a cash machine like those girls do. You don't know how nice a change that is."

I blushed and I felt his hand pat my bare thigh.

"I like that I can be honest with you, Luke, for real." His bossy tone was gone, replaced with the old Mr. Keenan charm.

I gulped. "I like being honest with you, too," I said. Until Mr. Keenan re-entered my life six months prior, I hadn't realized how rare it was I could be honest about things. I gave him a smile and saw him smile in return.

"Since I'm being honest," I started, but just then the bartender came over to take our order.

"Two steaks," Mr. Keenan said, ordering for me. "And another scotch and..." he turned to me.

"An IPA?" I asked. The bartender nodded and named off some brewery. Sounded good. We watched as he poured our drinks in front of us and placed them on the bar before going off to ring up our order.

"So..." Mike picked up. "Since you're being honest..."

I lowered my voice. "It's like I said before. You don't need to pay for anything, Mike. Or be a sugar daddy or anything."

He grinned. "There's always trade offs," he said. "And maybe I enjoy the control."

"Control?" I asked dumbly.

"If you're paying, you get your say in a lot of things," he said. He paused and watched me blush. "You think less of me."

"Honesty, right? You don't know how crushed out I am on you."

He smiled. "I have an idea. It's flattering." He took a sip of his scotch and looked over at me like a wolf eyeing up his prey. "I'm hoping you stay over tonight."

I was in over my head. Emotionally, but also with a man like Keenan. Decisive. "If you want, I will," I said.

"Good," he said, satisfied.

***

Mike Keenan surprised me that evening. After we ate and he paid the check, we went up to our room. We showered together, making out, feeling each other up. I was surprised how much this straight man was into my very male body and my cock. Well, he was probably bi and in any case had his no-labels motto. I was gonna embrace it.

Particularly as we made out on the bed, me beneath his middle aged, fit hairy body. I'd eventually find a real boyfriend, I knew, but I also knew it was going to be hard for any man to live up to hot how Mr. K was. His cock felt hard and even bigger as we humped our bodies together and kissed.

"So, Luke... you up for me being inside you?"

I nodded, hungrily. "God yeah, Mr. Keenan."

He grinned. "You have much experience?" That concern coming in.

"A couple of guys, yeah," I said. Then with deep candor, I added, "I wish you'd taken my cherry, Mike."

His voice got husky. "I've done anal a couple of times. With an ex-girlfriend."

His words made me actually break out into goosebumps. For some reason the idea of Mr. K doing some woman in the backdoor seemed kinky as fuck. But also the way he unmistakeably was communicating that he knew how to fuck me. "You liked it, I bet," I said with a lusty smile.

He nodded and winked just as he leaned up and knelt on the bed. His hardon looked magnificent, the thickness perfectly framed by his hairy, DILF-y body. I decided then and there I'd have a hard time sleeping with a man under 40. "Oh, yeah, buddy," he said. Then my body shivered again as I watched the confidence with which he picked up the lube he'd set out next to the bed. As he returned his focus, I pulled back my legs and spread them some, letting his slick hand in to lube up my hole. "It's probably my favorite thing. Hard to talk a woman into it, though."

"I can imagine," I hissed, enjoying the cool contact of the lubed finger on my ring. "I bet that costs extra huh?" Maybe that sounded accusatory, but from my tone it was clear that it was a joke, and Mr. Keenan picked up on that.

He laughed. "I don't hire hookers, but don't think I haven't thought about it." His cock jerked, and I was relieved that being with a dude seemed to work for him as much as fucking a chick.

He pressed in and worked me open some. "That feel OK, buddy?"

I looked at him excitedly and nodded. I kept expecting resistance as the man fingered me but there was none. At all. "Feels amazing Mr. K." My longtime nickname for him just slipped off my tongue, but the man seemed excited to hear it. His cock actually jerked.

He now slipped in a third finger, twisting me open and working in and out. "You're ready," he said, though I knew there was a questioning behind his assured tone.

"Yes, sir," I hissed.

Mike was horny, too, I realized as he scooted in to place and nudged his meaty cock right into place. I don't know the approach he took with women, but he angled his finger to let his prick push in just as he withdrew his hand. Kind of a shoehorn move that slid his meaty cock right into me. Three solid inches inside me in one go.

"There ya go," he said with satisfaction. Then he moved forward, his hips driving more meat into me, as he leaned his upper body forward. I was getting well and truly penetrated.

The thing was, my insides were starting their natural resistance, my guts clenching down on the invader and trying to repel it. Mr. Keenan mistook my discomfort for a natural stimulation of an ass on his cock. "That's goddamn nice, buddy," he hissed and like that he was kissing me, hard and possessively.

I met his tongue as well as I could, but there was something that clicked in me. I was a dude, a masculine dude. I didn't like to think of myself as feminine, and I got offended by the way people would associate gay sex with being feminized. And yet, I was pinned down beneath Mike Keenan and all I could think was to compare myself to those college chicks Mike banged. My hole relaxed around him and I wrapped my legs around his waist. Not slutty or anything, but damn I needed and wanted a Mike Keenan fuck.

He must have sensed the change but in any case pulled back from the kiss. "I guess I didn't even ask about protection," he hissed, his hips slowly pumping me.

"This is perfect, Mr. K," I growled. His dick was rubbing right over my prostate, not punching the button, but playing it like a violin string. It was a surprisingly new sensation for me.

The man liked my answer. He pulled back, further back, and pushed all the way. Then again. Not rushing it, but definitely claiming me with this cock. All the while his blue eyes bore down on mine. "How do you normally like it, Luke?" he asked.

I racked my brain. It was actually hard to think with the man's cock pressing in and out. And I'd only had a few experiences bottoming. "Slow, I guess," I replied. But then as I felt up the man's naked torso and strong arms, I wanted more. "But this is weird to ask... but I'd like you to show me how I like it."

THAT turned Mike on like crazy. "Yeah?" His nostrils flared. "I can do that buddy."

He pulled back and I felt his prick punch into me. In retrospect it probably wasn't rough, but I'd never been fucked with that much force. Then another. Slow, steady, and hard.

The fact that it was Rich's dad doing this drove me wild. I looked up into his handsome face and imagined him rough fucking some sugar baby who'd have to work for her apartment money.

"Shit!" I gasped. My prick was dripping already, a telltale sign that I was about to cum. I gripped it, just in time to let the pleasure boil to a full orgasm, all while Mr. Keenan pounded it out of me.

His own face was scrunching into a clear sign of pleasure. The man was ejaculating into my guts, and good.

"Well, fuck me," he sighed as he lay his forehead against mine. We lay like that, my hands on him and my legs wrapped around him. His more mature, fit body resting on top of me as he caught his breath. "Please tell me you liked that buddy," he hissed.

I felt weirdly emotional. I don't know, it wasn't just the crush I had on Mr. K. It was the hormonal rush on top of the mind fuck of having had such hot sex. "A little too much," I admitted.

That made him smile.

He finally leaned up and slid out of me, and off me. His dick was thick and plump but softening, and very wet. He looked down on me with a mix of surprise, paternal-like affection, and pride in conquest. I loved it all, and it was then that I realized I was hooked on the Mike Keenan experience.

"I thought I was pushing my luck asking you to meet me again," he said as he stepped off the bed and down some water from a water bottle. His middle-aged muscle was covered in a sheen of sweat. The man was sexy as fuck. His eyes barely left my nakedness. "But I guess not," he continued.

I felt all sorts of weird, and more than a little cheap now that the endorphins were wearing off. I sat up in bed, my hole feeling used and wet now. "You really do like being on control, don't you, Mike?"

My words caught him by surprise. "I guess I come on strong, huh?"

"A little," I admitted. "I should probably go," I said as I searched for my briefs.

"Will it make you feel better to stay over?" he asked.

It was my turn to be surprised. "You think I'm like a chick?" I asked. I wasn't sure I was upset he was stereotyping me as a gay guy. Or upset because maybe he was right.

"It's just a question, Luke," he replied. "I'll give you Uber money."

I swallowed my pride. "I'd love to stay. Sorry I was giving you grief."

He smiled. "It's fine buddy. I'm used to game playing. But you're a straight shooter. I like that." Then matter of factly, he added, "I get up early."

"That's cool," I said.

****

I gave Mr. K a blowjob early the next morning. And he stroked me off. I guess I was leaning toward being a bottom before Mike Keenan, but I'd never embraced the label. What the fuck, the man was making me realize the shoe fit.

I was happy and content all day. I kind of wanted a text from Mr. K, but I didn't need one. Even being young and naive, I knew I had to take this for what it was, or not at all.

Around 5:30 I got a text. "Dinner?"

I had a late game and plans with my buddies. "I'm tied up, Mike," I wrote. "Sorry."

"What time you done?" came that reply.

"I don't know. 10?"

"Come over then. You know the room number."

Maybe it should have rubbed me the wrong way, but it didn't. I was horny for this man. So bad.

Only after I replied with an OK, I got a Venmo alert. Mr. K had sent me money. Not an exhorbitant amount. But a lot.

Oh shit.

***

I was nervous as Mike ushered me in. The worst part was how fucking handsome he looked, even in his readers and plush hotel bathrobe. He didn't look exactly sleepy, but he seemed in a relaxed, tired state as he looked me up and down.

"Thanks for coming, Luke," he said. That easygoing charm I remember from going over to his place when I was visiting my buddy Rich.

"Sure," I said. Looking around, I wondered what it was like to live in a hotel like this a few nights a week, always being on the road. I smelled Mr. Keenan's cologne before I felt his hand on my shoulder and his warm body press against my back. Already he was kissing softly at my neck.

"Listen, Mr. K... can we talk about the money thing?"

His voice had a throaty growl. Maybe he'd been thinking all evening, all day about sex, because he seemed to be in a horny mode. "Sure. Was it not enough?"

"No, Jesus," I hissed, feeling his fingers already running beneath the hem of my T-shirt tracking my abs. "I don't need anything. For real."

OK, now his fingers stopped their seductive movement. I guess the man was getting it. "You offended?" he asked.

I blushed. "I dunno," I replied. "It didn't make me feel great."

I felt his breath against my neck. "You deserve the money more than Kimberly," he said. "Or the others. It's just a little something, Luke. Use it to have fun. Or save it for a rainy day."

I don't know how Mike Keenan was so persuasive a man, but he was. Maybe because those fingers are once again tracing up my abs and pulling my shirt with them. "Come on, buddy, let me see that hot baseball jock body," he urged.

I went with it. I knew I was good looking, and even if I had some bulking goals for the off season, I knew I had a solid body. But the fact Mr. Keenan was into it had me so turned on. I turned around to see a smile on his five-o-clock-shadowed face.

"Nice," he said, eyes sweeping up and down my build. "Lose the shorts, Luke," he said.

Mr. K had talked about enjoying being in control. I was now wrestling with the fact that I enjoyed being bossed around, at least by this man. I stepped back and undid my shorts, stripping down completely for him. I was rock hard.

My heart pounded as I watched Mike get a more serious look on his face, as his hands reached down to undo the tie on the robe. The white terry cloth flapped open to show off his furry fit torso and, beneath that, his thick boner. "Come on buddy," he said in a deep whisper, nodding down at his crotch in an unmistakable signal.

I gulped. I assumed my normal catcher's squat, a position which made my hard dick stick up at an angle.

"Fuck yeah," Mike said. He scooted up to offer me his prick. It was fat and veiny, and while not porn-long that dick was pretty damn big.

I leaned forward just an inch to start licking him. Top to bottom. Along his furry nuts. Tasting every inch of Mike Keenan. Maybe his relaxed vibe gave me the implicit permission to take my time.

Only by the time I actually began sucking him, working my mouth up and down on him and doing my best to coordinate suction and tongue along his shaft, the man was starting to get worked up.

"Easy there, buddy," he hissed, gently pushing me off his dick, which throbbed and jerked a little, wet with my saliva. "I almost blew there."

I grinned. I felt so fucking proud. I didn't have a ton of sexual experience and it was good to know I was doing something right to get Mike so close so soon. "Why don't you?" I asked, sitting back on my haunches and looking up at him. I was getting more confident in having sex with this older man.

He let out a heavy sigh, like he was fighting off the urge to do just that. A smile crossed his lips, though. "Guess I'm like a kid with a new toy," he explained.

It took me a second to get it. "You wanna fuck me again." Half statement, half question.

Mike nodded. "Been thinking about it all fucking day, man. Your ass is so fucking tight."

I knew this was a possibility, and I wondered if I should be giving my hole some rest. But I also knew it was going to be hard to turn down a Mr. Keenan fuck. I stood up, my dick riding that crest between pure excited hardness and nervous flagging.

"Ok if we kiss a little, Mike?" I asked feeling almost embarrassed to ask. "You know, make out a little?"

My buddy's dad nodded and grinned as he stepped up to me, placing his hands on my waist. "I guess I can come on strong, huh?" he asked.

God, feeling his dick press against mine and the heat and the soft-hard combo of fur and muscle against me was going to drive me wild. "Some, yeah," I admitted with a laugh. Then blushing, I added, "Part of me really likes it, but fuck it's intimidating too, you know?"

Mike didn't reply but just gave a sympathetic nod and leaned in for a soft kiss. We made out some, and it was incredible to feel the contrast between the gentle approach kissing and the mauling of his hands on my jock body, particularly my butt. Mr. K wasn't kidding about having a new toy. He seemed to really love my ass.

He walked me back to the bed and I went back down on the mattress with a motion of his that was between guiding and pushing. He quickly lost his bathrobe and joined me, covering my body with his older, more experienced one, feeling me up and kissing along my neck, my ear, my upper chest. Mike was in full-on horny mode and bring me there right with him.

Finally he lifted off and rolled to the side. His erection was dripping and rock hard and looked amazing against all that body hair. "All right buddy, get on all fours."

I was primed for Mike Keenan in full on control mode. I scrambled to do as the man asked, facing the headboard and feeling the man settle in behind me. Already his hands were cupping my glutes and feeling the smooth muscle.

"You got a hot fucking ass, Luke," he growled. He pawed at me another few seconds then reached for some lube. The first wet finger felt great, and went in pretty easy.

"You're looser today, buddy," Mike hissed. A second finger popped in.

"Yeah, probably," I responded. "After yesterday."

"I wanna keep you this way," came his deep voice. "Ready for me."

"Oh fuck, Mr. K," I whined. There was an edge to his tone that drove me wild. And as his prick pushed in, I felt a welcome pleasure, even with my residual tightness.

"Fuck yeah," Mike grunted as he felt my insides and pushed to bottom out. "Right back in the saddle."

His grip clenched roughly on my waist. Just as quickly as that thick cock pulled out, it barreled back in. And again. One hard thrust right after the other as Mr. K grunted deeply. "Ung. Ungh. Ung."

The man was fucking for his pleasure, not mine. Still I felt an excited thrill. I wouldn't say I enjoyed this nearly as much as the missionary mating the night before but it felt new to me. Animalistic and raw. I was hard even with the discomfort of the shafting.

Wham. Wham. Wham. That thick piece of hard dad meat was drilling steadily. Then the cadence went off. Mr. Keenan's rhythm was getting more spasmodic and jerky as he pounded me. Then I felt those fingers dig into my hips.

"FUCK!"

From his cry and the sudden stop of his thrusts, I knew the man was seeding me.

I loved every part of the experience, but I now regretted that I hadn't gotten off. The fuck had been too hard and too quick.

Thankfully I felt the man shift behind me and, prick still buried inside me, he leaned forward to press against, my back.

I loved the feeling of his kiss on my neck, but even more I loved the slickness of his palm as he wrapped his hand around my hardon. Mike didn't even need to do much. Just give slow soft pumps in and out of my guts while his fingers ran along my dick. I fired off, heavy and hard. I felt lightheaded when I came.

We were quiet as we uncoupled. The shame was coming back to me as I showered off. Shame that I enjoyed what others might see as a dominant, selfish fuck. Shame that there were funds in my Venmo account. Shame that I was falling for Mr. Keenan so hard. I knew I couldn't stay over in this hotel room, not tonight. I needed some space to think.

Mike had his robe back on. To this day a white terry bathrobe is a fetish for me. His tone was more serious. "You mad at me Luke?" he asked as he sat in the hotel chair and watched me get dressed.

I grimaced but shook my head no. "I didn't think I'd like sex that rough," I said softly.

I could see a sly grin from on his lips. But he continued. "I wasn't talking about the fuck."

God, the man could be intense, behind the suave businessman outgoingness and the friendly paternal vibe. It was like I was seeing the real Mr. Keenan. Intimidating, sure, but I also wondered if he had a hard time with real relationships. His marriage hadn't worked out, he was clearly estranged from his son, and he basically hired dates instead of having real girlfriends.

I paused, just holding the T shirt I was going to put back on. "Can I be blunt, Mr. K? You say you don't want a hooker, and yet have a way of treating me like one."

He was prepared for that. "You're not that, Luke. But I'm not ready for anything serious. I figure I can help you out, and you can help me out." He looked at me and could tell I still didn't get it. "Listen, it's not just sex. I love spending time with you buddy. You're a hell of a lot more fun than those sugar babies, I'll tell ya." He cracked a smile, and I had to as well.

"I guess," I said. Remembering Kimberly, I could imagine she'd be more work than fun.

My conciliatory tone made him happy, and I was glad to see the friendly Mr. Keenan return. "Well, it's just I don't always have the time or interest for all the other boyfriend bullshit. Checking in, looking after emotional needs, dealing with jealousy."

I gulped. I was starting to get a better picture of Mike. The side Rich hated. The side I should hate more.

He watched my reaction but continued. "I know that wouldn't be fun for you to deal with, so I want to make it worth your while."

"Make what worth my while?" I asked. Again, as persuasive as he was, I felt he kept talking around the sex part.

He laughed, almost amused at how astute I was. "Luke, I'm not going to pay you per sex act. Or per night. But..." his voice got conspiratorial. I wondered if he knew what that supportive dad-figure tone did for me, and just weaponized it to get his way. Honestly I think it just came naturally to him. "Well, bud, I'd love an arrangement when you're able to keep me company when I'm in DC." His blue eyes got an impish cast to them, and I knew he was in seal-the-deal mode. "I'm pretty sure we could have a lot of fun together."

"You wanna be my sugar daddy?" I asked, point blank. It's not that I was dumb, but I actually didn't think Mr. Keenan was outright going there.

He nodded. But his face had a caution to it. "Would it better if we ditched the labels?" he asked, a smirk on his face reminding me of his own no-labels policy.

"It would," I answered. Then. "OK if I think on it, Mike?"

"Of course," he said.

He stood up as I finished putting on my shoes. Seeing how handsome he was I almost asked if I could stay over again. But the vibe wasn't right for that.

As I made my way to the room door, Mr. K patted my shoulder. "You're a fine young man, Luke," he said. His fingers gave my muscle a little squeeze before letting go. "I mean that."

"Thanks, Mr. Keenan," I said.

***

The Uber ride was quick at that time of night. I'd have to come up with an excuse to my roommate while I was out again. I'd probably have to come up with a lot more excuses if I hung out more with Mr. K. Or, if he got me my own apartment, things would be easier. Meeting up with him. Having sex with him.

I pulled out my phone. I thought I'd hesitate before sending but I knew I knew my answer.

"You'll have to let me know how it works Mr. K," I texted. "But I'm in."

No labels. But if Mike Keenan was going to call himself my sugar daddy that was probably OK too.

I got a quick reply. "That makes me happy Luke. Talk tomorrow sexy."

I felt warm inside. Mike Keenan was going to make this worth my while. But I was determined to make it worth his, too.

#drakestories

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