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myownwholewildworld · 2 days

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THE RIGHT KIND OF WRONG ― dbf!mechanic!joel oneshot

series masterlist | main masterlist | read on ao3 pairing: dbf!mechanic!joel x f!reader. summary: your car breaks down and you make a deal with your dad's best friend, joel, who happens to be the best mechanic in town. you'll work for him over the summer holidays to pay your debt back, but maybe you can find a pleasant shortcut to it? a/n: well, well, well... what can i say? this whole uniformed!joel shit is giving me proper brain rot. i don't know what came over me while writing this but i just rolled with it. i do appreciate any notes you may wanna leave to keep me motivated hehe. enjoy! x edit: forgot to mention this oneshot was prompted by this ask! warnings: 18+, mdni. no outbreak AU. juicy age gap (reader is 21, joel is 48). rough, ABSOLUTE filth & i'm not even sorry. some edging. semi-public groping? masturbation (f and m receiving). oral (f and m receiving). pussy pronouns (she/her). unprotected piv. mouth fucking. very mild brat taming kink. transactional sex. alternating pov. reader is female but that's about it. w/c: ~8.9k of pure filth. divider by @cafekitsune

“Ugh, not again, c’mon!”

Your cranky little car did not have it in it anymore. It was almost fifteen years old now, having passed down from your older brother to you when you turned sixteen five years ago. Out of pure frustration, you hit the steering wheel with the palm of your hand and let out a raspy grunt.

The check engine light had lit up on the dash, which was what caused your fit. And then, as if orchestrated by the universe, the engine made a loud, clicking noise. You flattened your forehead against the wheel, your fingers curling around the rubbery texture with a tight grip.

“You stupid car!”, you screamed at it as if it was a sentient being. “I’m broke, you cannot die on me like this!”

You were on the parking lot of a café. Early that afternoon you had met with some friends to celebrate the beginning of summer and the end of the academic year. One more and you would be done with your degree ― it looked so damn far away, but you still had this summer to look forward to.

Rummaging through your purse, you finally located your cellphone and quickly dialled your dad.

“Yeah?”

“Hey, dad. I’m at Betty’s. The fucking light has come on again?!”

“Watch your mouth!”, he reprimanded you from the other side of the line. You could hear him huff and puff with disapproval. “I think your car is on its last legs, gonna have to think about buying one.”

“You know I can’t afford that, all my savings are going into my degree. I’ll just have to get it fixed for now.”

“Take it to Joel’s then. See what he thinks.”

“But it’s a Sunday, you think he’ll be open?”

“That man is a workaholic, you bet his business is open today.”

“Alright, you reckon he’ll do it for free?”

“For free?” He laughed; you could imagine him shaking his head. “I doubt it, but maybe he’ll give you a discount. Gotta go, little bug. I’ll see you at dinner. If you can make it, obviously.” He mocked you.

“Ha, ha… So funny. Talk to you later.” And you hung up.

The drive to Joel’s garage was a fucking torture. Every time the engine made a squealing noise, your heart would jolt to your throat. You tried to encourage it, whispering sweet nothings in the hopes it would get appeased and make it to Joel’s repair shop.

You also got distracted by your filthy mind. Joel had been in your DILF radar since you were nineteen. Three years ago, your dad celebrated his 45th birthday with a barbecue in the middle of summer. Joel had turned up in a white tee shirt, khaki shorts and flipflops, with untamed silvery curls and a crate of beer under his arm.

When the Texan heat became unbearable, he had stripped himself of his clothes, fashioning a pair of short swim trunks that had left you breathless and wet. When you watched him get out of the water later that afternoon, you could have sworn that the tip of his dick had shown briefly before he discreetly tucked it away. That image had been burnt into your retinas and haunted you since then.

Unconsciously you licked your bottom lip, your core molten with slick, as the car came to a halt. You had arrived at your destination.

There was an old Ford at the front of the garage, someone working under the hood. When the driver’s door of your car slammed against the frame, Joel peeked up from the engine he was working on.

His eyes flickered with recognition. He grabbed an old rag to clean his big, veiny hands of grease and oil. You wondered what else would be big and veiny. Stop it, you dirty fucker, you told yourself.

“Hey, Joel!” You waved at him with a smile.

“What’s up, kiddo?”

You rolled your eyes at him, the grin staying on your plump lips.

“I’m not a kid anymore, Joel. Have not been for a long time now, y’know.” You punctuated, unsure of what you were trying to achieve with that comment. Well, you knew, but did not want to admit it to yourself.

“Oh, I know”, he husked, his voice suddenly gruff.

Tilting your head to one side, you looked at him with question marks in your pupils. Why had he accentuated that “know”? And why all the sudden was your cunt gushing? How could he make you wet with three simple words? You were going to need to request a booty call that night from your friend with benefits.

“Uh, uhmm”, you laughed nervously. “The engine light on my car has come on for the third time this week and the motor is making weird noises, could you check it out for me, please?”

“Sure thing, lemme see.” He took the keys from your hand, electricity cracking between you.

You pursed your lips, a gesture he did not pick up on. Joel walked to the driver’s side, activated something and then the hood popped open. He walked around to the front of the car and propped the hood up with the metal rod that was inside.

As Joel was inspecting the motor with his broad hands, you put one foot in front of the other in a vain attempt to rub your knees together and cause some friction in your needy cunt. You squeezed your thighs some more as you watched him work with his hands, and you imagined what it would feel like if he was working you instead.

Oof! Take it down a notch, girl, you thought to yourself when your clit twitched in desperation.

Then Joel turned around to look at you.

“When was the last time you changed the timing belt?”

“The... what now?” Your mind was hazy with lust, but even if you had been at your full mental capacity, you wouldn’t have known what he was talking about.

“The timing belt. In the engine. What ensures that the camshaft and crankshaft rotate in sync?” He looked at you with a cocked brow, cleaning his hands again on that old rag.

Oh, I would pay big bucks to be that rag.

“Are you even speaking English?”, you replied back, partially because you really had no idea what he was talking about, partially because your brain was all mushy with desire.

“I’ll take that as a ‘never’ then. You should really get it replaced, seems like that’s your problem. Have you had trouble starting the car?”

“As a matter of fact, yes, this very morning.”

“Yeah, sounds like it. You need to change it asap, if it breaks while you’re driving it would be bad, very bad. You could have an accident. Also trying to fix it after it’s broken will cost you even more.”

“So… will I need to break the bank?” You asked, already flinching at the idea.

Joel seemed to take a second to consider your options, leaning against the passenger’s door and scratching his scruffy beard.

“It’ll be $800.”

Your heart almost stopped, your mouth agape.

“Eight fucking hundred?” He nodded. “Well, can I― Can you not give me a bit of a discount here? You are best friends with my dad. Pretty please?” You laced your fingers together in a prayer and batted your eyelashes at him.

With a low grunt, he straightened his back and folded arms at his chest.

“I’m already giving you one. I would usually charge $1100. You’re already getting a bargain.”

“Well, what about $300?” You counteroffered.

Joel’s brows knitted together and then loudly scoffed.

“What? You think I’m a fucking charity? No, kiddo. $800 and that’s it. If I go any lower, I’d be losing money. Got a business to run here.”

You really did not have $800 bucks to spare. In fact, you barely had five hundred bucks to your name. Asking your family for money was not an option either ― not because you were proud (you were), but because money was tight. Your parents already had enough struggles as it was, you did not want to add to the pile.

You visibly pouted and stumped one foot against the gravel, vexed. A loud sigh slipped through your lips as you pressed the heel of your hands against your eye sockets. You needed the car.

Dropping your hands to your sides, you looked at Joel with puppy eyes, covering the distance that was between you. Pleading, you palmed his strong forearm, your fingers wrapping around the girth of his muscles.

For a brief second, you wondered if you would be able to fully grip his erection. Would your fingertips be able to touch your thumb? Or would he be so thick you would need both hands to handle him?

“Joel, pl―please?”, you stammered, your arousal playing games with your vocal cords.

Unwillingly, he scanned your body up and down ― slowly, taking his time, pondering his options.

Joel had wanted to fuck you for three years now, since your lustful eyes widened at the sight of only his tip on that dreadful summer day. He could vividly remember the way you had chewed your bottom lip as you watched him slide his cock back in his swim trunks, shamelessly, without blinking. You only stopped devouring him when someone talked to you, snapping out of your trance.

That night, when he got home, he had jerked himself off with you in his mind. He had imagined your plump lips sealed around his glans, the tip of your tongue playfully caressing the slit ― your sparkly eyes looking up at him, dreamy and teary, imploring. He had taken his sweet time, rejoicing in his fantasy, until he had spilled in the palm of his hand, as if he was a hormonal teenager. And every time he would fuck someone to find relief, he would visualize your cunt sheathing him, clamping down on his dick like a beartrap.

Ever since then, every time his eyes landed on you, his blood would boil and his cock would harden. Just like now, dick pounding against his boxers, begging to be paid due attention. With the eyes of his imagination, he saw himself letting go and throwing you into the back of your car, drilling your pussy relentlessly until you came wailing, asking for more.

Joel sucked in his breath ― he needed to calm down, distract himself with something else. You were his best friend’s daughter. He shouldn’t be daydreaming about fucking you stupid. He had seen you grow since you were a babe.

Never thought of you any other way until that fateful barbeque, when he realised you were a full grown ass woman. Suddenly he had seen you for what you were: a fuckable brat who could get his cock rock-hard with the simple lick a of a lip.

An idea formed as you begged him. You looked desperate ― desperate enough to him at least.

Joel cracked his tongue, his expression unwavering. But if you could see, you would know his cock was throbbing already.

“Well. I do have an idea.” His words dragged, his erection making him feel uncomfortable.

“You do? I’m all ears!” You exclaimed with a lopsided grin, your delicate fingers tighter around his forearm.

His head snapped to his right, pointing to a sign that read “Hand Car Wash”.

“If you help out all summer handwashing cars, I’ll consider part of your debt paid”, he explained, looking down at your hand touching him.

“In full?” You eyed him as if he was your goddamn saviour and that unsettled him.

“I said part of it, kiddo. I’ll leave it at $300.”

You batted your eyelashes at him. Did you know that your suggestiveness was wreaking havoc?

“Anything I can do so the $300 reduces to zero?”

“I’ll think about it”, he reluctantly conceded. Joel had a few ideas in mind, but none of them were precisely appropriate. Not for a twenty-one year old to do with a forty-eight year old at least, that was for sure. “Be here tomorrow at 9 AM, sharp. The team works from nine to twelve, Mondays to Fridays.”

You frantically nodded, almost squealing in excitement. The noise you made forced his cock to twitch. He could make you squeal too, only if you would let him.

“I’ll be here! Thanks, Joel.”

Before he could think, you let go of his forearm and hugged him close to your chest. To your round breasts. Those two meaty globes he wanted to palm so badly. He could swear your nipples were stabbing at him. You embraced him so close to your body, his bulge pressed gently against your lower belly, and he wondered if you could feel him.

And then you stepped back. Quickly, too quickly for his liking.

“You’ll need to leave your car here, don’t want you driving back in that junk. I’ll have a look at it tomorrow. I’ll give you a lift back”, he offered. “Lemme close first and I’ll be right back in five minutes.”

“No probs, take your time.” You smiled at him as you went back to your car to grab your things.

Soon you were on the passenger’s seat of Joel’s pickup truck. It was dusking on the horizon, the light scattering through the windshield. Joel put down the visor so he wouldn’t get blinded by the sun.

“So how’s college going?” His attempt at small talk made you smile.

“It’s good, hard but good. The first year was really bad though. I didn’t know anyone there, so had to make friends and everything.” You mentioned, shrugging, while mindlessly playing with your seatbelt.

“I’m sure you had no problems making friends”, Joel said distractedly, checking all the mirrors before turning at the streetlight.

You placed your elbow on the window frame, the back of your head resting on your palm, and you turned to look at him.

“How are you so sure?” You asked, curious to see what his take on you was. The man was like a brick wall.

“You’re so vivacious and talkative. You’re not the shy kind either, always were part of the popular group in high school, weren’t you?” You nodded, but he didn’t see you, all focused on the road ahead. “Bet’cha you have all the boys running after you.”

Well, that was unexpected. For both you and him, because you saw how his jaw clenched. It was almost imperceptible, but you were so aware of his every move, your body so in tune with his, you couldn’t have missed it.

Had he noticed you? Like, actually? Was it possible that Joel fucking Miller, your freaking dad’s best friend, could look at you with other than paternal eyes? Why would he make hat comment otherwise?

Your cunt, still wet from your previous innocent interaction, fluttered. You had no butterflies in your stomach ― they were actually clapping their fragile wings in between your legs. This man was a fucking menace to your senses, and he seemed oblivious to the effect he had on you. Or did he? Time to find out.

You giggled at his question and patted his upper thigh a couple of times, as if he had cracked the best joke you had ever heard. The pad of your fingers almost caressed his groin, that sweet dip where his thigh met his pelvis. The denim under your touch suddenly stretched as Joel flexed his leg, trying to release the tension that had rapidly built up.

You bit your bottom lip as he peered at you askance, your hand still too close to his crotch.

“I actually do, but none of them seem good enough, y’know? I want a man, not a boy”, you ventured, your top teeth sinking further in the soft pillow of your bottom lip.

You saw Joel sucking in his breath ― and the grin in your face grew. He was definitely not immune to you, at least not as much as you had originally thought. He looked so unattainable, always so distant, you had wondered if, in his eyes, you had never grown up.

“Do you now, kiddo?” He asked between gritted teeth, tone throaty.

His brown eyes drifted down for one second, watching the tips of your fingers rubbing the denim of his jeans slightly, and then he locked them back on the road. You heard a low grunt vibrating in his throat, although he tried his best to suppress it.

“Yeah. I’m sick and tired of stupid childish boys. They are just boring now, they lack― well, you know.” You let him brew with your unfinished sentence and removed your hand from his lap.

You could tell Joel finally was able to breathe again as his chest expanded slowly. His reaction to you left a prickling sensation in your pussy ― wet, throbbing, needy. You pressed your knees together, but what you really wanted was for him to reach for you and dunk his thick fingers in your slit.

“Your dad’s there.” He stated, succinct, after clearing his throat.

You looked over your shoulder and through the window to realise that, in fact, you had arrived home. Your father was already waiting for you on the porch, probably because he recognised the noise of Joel’s truck’s exhaust pipe. And then he started walking towards you.

You suppressed a pouting grimace ― you wanted just a few more minutes alone with Joel. A few more moves and, who knew? Maybe you would have him fingering the shit out of you. But thanks to your father, you would never find out.

Your father knocked on the passenger’s window and you rolled it down, smiling. Although what you really wanted to do was smack him for interrupting.

“Hey, dad.”

“Hey, sweetie. How’s the car?”

“Well��” You looked at Joel ― you had already forgotten what was it that needed replacing.

“The timing belt is going. Bit expensive but your daughter and I have reached an agreement. Will reduce the price for her but she’s gotta come work on the hand-wash business”, he explained, matter-of-factly.

“Sounds ‘bout right. Get your first taste of what the real world is like.” Your dad laughed at his own occurrence, while your mind drifted far, very far.

“I’d love to get a taste.” You answered feigning innocence, turning your face to Joel with a very wide smile painted on your mouth.

His eyes darkened, transfixed on yours. Oh, he knew exactly what you meant. He subtly stirred on his seat and you wanted to giggle so bad, but refrained.

“Hey, Joel. There’s a game on tomorrow night. You wanna come over? Can have something to eat, few beers, will be fun. I need the company, God knows this lady over here just complains while scrolling through her social media”, he pointed towards you with his thumb and you simply rolled your eyes at him.

Watching football with your old man was as boring as it got. However, if Joel Miller was there, he would have your undivided attention. Well, not him, the screen, obviously. Duh.

Your eyes shot to his, expectant. Your cunt was even more anticipative of his answer.

“Yeah, why not?”

Famous last words. That was Joel’s only thought as soon as he entered his best friend’s home. You greeted him at the door, all smiley and welcoming, ignoring the fact that you had been trying to get him hard the. whole. fucking. day.

You had come to work with some very short jeans ― every time you bent down to rub the sponge on the car’s bodywork, the bottom part of your perfectly round ass cheeks would show beneath the denim. Did you even wear any underwear? He thought not.

And then that white crop top was the fucking end of him. You had gotten it all wet when a loaded sponge dripped all over your front while you were talking to him about some trivial thing he could no longer remember. You had tittered and apologised while you scrunched it to get as much water out as possible. And the only thing he had been able to focus on were your pointy nipples, staring right at him, screaming for his caress.

After that, he had been at full mast the whole damn shift.

“Hi, Joel, come in!” You greeted him excitedly, swinging the door open.

He had taken a cold shower before coming over, but maybe what he needed was a fucking ice bath. Because the moment you batted your eyelashes at him, his cock twitched again. Joel had fisted his dick while showering, in the hopes that emptying his nuts before seeing you again would placate his lust for you.

Nope, hadn’t worked. Not one bit. This was probably a bad idea.

“Hey, kiddo.” He greeted you, emphasizing the last word.

He could literally be your fucking father, but that did not seem to deter you. If anything, it spurred you on. Had you no shame? Had he no shame? Because he should have stopped you the moment you started to be suggestive. Instead, he had let you go on, enjoying every single second of it.

Joel walked in and made his way to the kitchen, with you on his heels, where your father was lathering up some ribs with his secret sauce recipe.

“Hey, Joel. Let me get that from you”, he said before cleaning his hands on a kitchen towel and grabbing the beer crate from him.

Feeling they were still cold, his best friend cracked two open and handed him one. Joel lifted the can to his lips and saw you looking at him from the corner of his eye.

“Want one?” he asked, since you were of legal drinking age.

You shook your head no, wrinkling your nose in disgust.

“Eww, nah. I hate beer”, you sniggered and his dick spasmed some more.

“‘Course you do”, said your father before he could reply. “You only drink― What’s that crap again?”

“Gin and tonic, dad. It’s literally gin and tonic mixed. It’s not that fancy.” You huffed and puffed, shaking your head.

“This youth mixing everything because they can’t have proper alcohol. What’s next? Mixing beer with lemonade or something like that?”

“Well, that’s actually a thing. It’s called a shandy. Don’t be so old.”

Joel let you two have a go at each other. Observing the exchange, he sat down on one of the stools in front of the island, knees slightly bent.

“What?! You listening to this, Joel?” You father exclaimed with a joking tone. “Is Sarah like this too?”

“Yeah, exactly like this. Thinks beer is disgusting and everything. Thought I raised her better than that, but apparently not.” He jested, sipping from the tin can.

“How’s she doing?” His friend asked.

“She’s fine. She’s turning twenty-four in a couple of weeks. She moved out two months ago, gone to Houston for her new job.” He couldn’t help but be proud of his Sarah. She had accomplished so much. “She’s supposed to be here for her birthday, but we’ll see. She’s always so busy, don’t really know with what.”

“Aren’t they all? I barely see this one over here and she still lives under my roof.”

You folded arms, rolling your eyes again, while you sat down beside Joel on another stool.

“Sorry for having a social life? Like, what do you want me to do? Stay here with you watching football? Got better things to do, dad.”

“So you ain’t staying tonight then?” Your dad asked.

Joel turned to study you, interested in your answer. Could he have some reprieve tonight?

“Of course I’m stayin’. Would be rude not to when we have guests over, right, Joel?” And as the last words abandoned your mouth, you placed your left hand on his right thigh under the counter.

God have mercy.

Joel’s muscles stiffened, one in particular more than the others. His thighs were tense as he gripped the beer can with more strength than what was necessary. He kept his eyes to the front, taming his breathing.

He should have done something, slapping your hand away from his lap for instance. But he didn’t. And you took that as an invitation, because soon enough you were kneading his bulge under the kitchen island. Your palm rubbed harshly against the denim, and he saw you chewing your bottom lip.

Your father busied himself with seasoning the ribs and the French fries, oblivious to what was happening just a few meters away from him. This feels fucking wrong, but so fucking good, Joel thought to himself, your hand frisking his groin brazenly.

His cock was thudding with desire under his clothing, begging to be freed from its prison. You sensed his desperation, because you quickly tried to clasp your hand around it. Feeling your frustration at the inability of fisting him properly, Joel parted his legs to give you better access. If that was not an open invitation, nothing was.

I’m already going to hell. Joel had to stop himself of sucking his breath in when you started to unzip his jeans. His eyes slightly widened, but that was his only tell.

“So who do you reckon is going to win tonight?” Your father asked as your fingers dipped underneath his boxers.

Your warm skin against his beating cock dulled his senses. Then you took his dick out of his boxers and attempted to circle his girth while working him. Joel had to drink from his beer to shut himself up.

“Not sure, but I’d like for the Longhorns to win”, he spat the words out as best he could given the circumstances.

“Yeah, would be nice seeing our hometown win something this season”, your father continued with the small talk.

Joel’s thighs flexed when you started pumping him decisively. Fuck. He briefly looked down at his erection. It felt too damn good, your tiny fingers gripping him hard as you slowly moved your hand up and down on his lap. The tip of his cock was glistening with precum and you expertly rubbed it on his foreskin with your thumb.

As your father turned around to put everything in the oven, Joel took the chance to look at you. With your gaze averted, you pretended there was something interesting in the wall in front of you, while your right hand was buried underneath your slutty denim shorts. Joel could swear he could hear the squelching sounds your pussy was making while you played with yourself.

“Right, I think this is it. Gotta wait for an hour until everything’s properly cooked. Wanna move to the family room in the meantime?” He happily chattered as he walked around the kitchen island.

You reacted quickly and let go of his shaft. With his lap right under the kitchen counter, Joel hoped to hell his friend would not see anything out of the ordinary.

“Yeah”, he said with a coarse voice. “Need to go to the bathroom first.”

Your father just nodded as he sauntered towards the living room and Joel almost let go a sigh of relief. You simply chortled as you put your left thumb in your mouth, making it obvious that you were tasting his precum.

Joel’s cock jerked on his lap as he whispered a blasphemy. Quickly he tucked away his painful dick back in his boxers and zipped his jeans as he stood up. Then he retreated to the bathroom, needing a fucking moment to find his composure again.

Until he heard you.

“Gonna go get my phone charger, be back in a jiffy!”

Before Joel could close the door behind him, you slipped your hand in the door gap to stop him from shutting it. You caught him off guard, because he stepped back, brows knitting when he saw you under the door frame.

“What’cha doing?”, he questioned you.

You could feel the rigidity radiating from him. You entered the small bathroom and silently closed the door behind you, both of your hands holding onto the doorknob on your back.

“I came to finish what I started.”

You didn’t give him time to think ― if you did, you knew he would put an end to this. You were too turned on, your cunt beating every time your heart did. Your pussy lips were all wet and puffy ― you could feel your slick trapped between your folds, almost seeping into your panties. You had unleashed the beast and wanted it all for yourself.

So you threw yourself into Joel’s chest, your teeth softly scratching his Adam’s apple as one of your hands found its way back to his cock. He tilted his chin up and groaned at your touch. His pounding dick felt warm and velvety against your palm, so hard from working him under the kitchen counter a minute before.

Once he opened his eyes again, he looked down at you as you gripped his erection with both hands. Slowly you jerked him off, feeling powerful with him on the palm of your hands. Every time you pumped him, your clit would twitch in response. He had not touched you yet and your pussy was already palpitating for him. You could not wait to feel him inside you, stuffing you full.

“We shouldn’t, your father is right there―”

You could not care less. And to make it evident, you sunk to your knees in front of him, still holding his cock, now at eye level.

Your tongue darted out and you leaned his dick forward until the tip rested flat against your tongue, your hands still working his veiny shaft.

“You were saying?” You asked before briefly pecking his glans.

“Fuck”, was the only thing he managed to mumble.

That was your cue to give free rein to your lust. You nudged his column with the tip of your nose as your mouth drifted down to kiss his balls. Then your tongue slid out in its full extension, and you flattened it against the underside of his cock, slowly lapping at it until you reached the top and sealed your lips around his mushroom head.

Glancing up at him, you saw pleasure softening his features as you took him in further and further down, until his cock reached the natural resistance at the end of your throat. When his tip bottomed out in your mouth, Joel’s eyes found yours. His jaw visibly clenched at the sight of you kneeling in front of him, cock burrowed in between your lips, tears gathering on your bottom eyelids because of how his dick was outstretching you.

You moaned as Joel pulled his hips back, his shaft leaving your wet cavity, now full of precum and saliva. You swallowed to make room as you avidly tipped your head towards him, your lips hunting down his dick again. Slurping so you wouldn’t drown in fluids, you ate his cock like if it was the last edible thing on earth.

At that moment, something shifted in the air. As if Joel, finally, let go of his prejudices and accepted what you were giving him: your mouth to use as he pleased. His fingers hovered over your temples and then they clamped down on your skull as he held you in place.

“Stay still”, he commanded, and you nodded, his cock sitting snugly in your mouth.

His hips moved back and then forward, rocking his dick in and out of your lips. First slow, then picking up a pace. You stayed put throughout while he fucked your mouth mercilessly, palms against your knees like the good girl you were. Then his glans breached your uvula and you inevitably gagged at the intrusion.

He forced you to remain still as he tried to go further down, but there was nowhere for him to go. Your eyes welled up while you fought back the need to cough, almost unable to breathe.

Joel snapped his hips back and your mouth became free. You started panting while trying to catch a breath. Joel cupped your chin up so you would look at him. His sly grin told you he was enjoying himself a bit too much.

“Can tell you’ve not eaten many cocks, have you? Despite pretending to be this slutty brat in front of everyone, hm?” He asked, his voice rumbling in his chest.

“Well, I―” He didn’t let you finish the sentence because as soon as you opened your mouth, he slotted his dick back in between your plump lips.

“I actually don’t wanna hear it.”

Inevitably your cunt gushed at his roughness. He was right though ― you had only given head to two guys before and their cocks did not measure up to his. Your jaw had actually started to hurt now due to the effort you were making to house his dick in your mouth.

Joel quickly resumed his pounding, fucking your mouth relentlessly ― his hips swaying back and forth in front of you.

“Sweetie! Can you bring my charger too please?” Your father’s question forced both of you to snap out of the sexual haziness you both were feeling.

You two froze in place, Joel’s cock still in your mouth.

“Or I can come get it.” Then you heard his booted steps coming up the corridor.

In a panic, Joel stumbled back and you sprang to your feet, eyes widened with fear.

“No! Don’t worry! I’m coming!” You shouted back, hoping that your voice sounded far away enough to him.

The steps stopped and you both listened to him walking back to the living room. “Thank you, sweetie!”

You turned to look at Joel, who had grabbed a bunch of toilet roll to clean off the mess on his still throbbing cock.

“Joel, I’m sorry, b―”

“Just go before he changes his mind and comes looking for you”, his voice was strained with effort. His erection had to be painful by now without any relief.

But he was right. You couldn’t risk it. Neither of you could. So with apologetic eyes, you slithered out the bathroom door and ran to your room to snatch a couple of phone chargers.

Fucking torture that was.

Joel had never been in a worse position than that. Sat on the couch with you, your father on the recliner just a couple of meters away ― and his dick still pulsating, his balls full of unspent cum. His cock would writhe in his boxers, asking for a relief that never came. He was in excruciating pain and was not able to concentrate at all. All the small talk your father did went over his head, didn’t pay attention to the TV’s commentary either.

From time to time, you would graze his thigh lightly ― and on one occasion you slid your naughty hand towards his groin. Luckily the living room was dark, the TV being the only source of light, so your father didn’t pay much attention to your provocations. You quietly kneaded his bulge, curling your fingers around his erection underneath, and it got to a point where Joel had to force your hand away, because he was too close to coming.

So, when he waved you both goodbye and got into his truck, he could literally not wait to get home. Under the dim light of the lampposts that filtered through the windows into the truck’s cabin, Joel freed his aching dick and fisted it from the base. With his head tilted back against the headrest, he furiously jerked off ― fast and with no measure, to the point it was almost hurting. Tension built up from his nuts upwards and when Joel finally got relief, he groaned audibly as his cum spurted out in white, thick streaks.

With a heavy sigh and some laboured breathing, he opened his eyes, looking for some tissues to clean the mess on his lap. As he was putting his cock back in his boxers, something caught his attention.

The darkness camouflaged you well, but he spotted you on the window of your room, watching him eagerly with half-lidded eyes and chewing your bottom lip. Then your head leaned forward, your chin almost touching your chest, and Joel suddenly understood what was happening. You had been touching yourself while observing him do the same thing, until you orgasmed too.

Your eyes locked on each other’s through the blackness, something dark and perverted floating in the atmosphere. The whole thing felt wrong. The right kind of wrong.

The next week had been a continuous dance between the two of you. You too suggestive, him too evasive. After you had seen him wanking in his car, you had thought you had him under your spell. He had looked like a damn teenager chasing his release, unable to contain it much longer.

But you couldn’t blame him ― you had had him on edge for almost five hours. First touching him under the counter, then sucking his dick in the bathroom, and finally kneading him on the couch with your dad only two meters away.

It all had affected you too, because as soon as you had scurried away to your room and had looked out the window, you fingered yourself with your eyes locked on him. You came so hard, that you had to steady yourself on the windowsill, trembling knees and all. And once the orgasm softened its grip on you, you had realised he had been watching you as you rode the last wave of your climax.

So yes, for a week you tried to seduce him again, because you needed to know how it all ended. Having him burrowed down to your guts was a necessity now. However, it got to a point where you almost gave up ― it was draining having to follow him around like a bitch in heat. You still had one ace up your sleeve though. One that you hoped to play this afternoon. Because if you didn’t fuck him today, you were going to lose your shit.

You focused on your task, which was rubbing the soaked sponge on the bodywork of the car. Two other people were doing the same thing on the back, while you were slightly bent over the hood trying to reach the middle. Your breasts brushed against the metalwork, your white tank top completely wet with soapy water, almost transparent now. The coldness was refreshing in the asphyxiating Texan heat and your nipples especially welcomed it, wrinkling tightly and showing through the fabric.

When you straightened, you caught a glimpse of Joel eyeing you intently. But you pretended you didn’t ― maybe you needed to play difficult, show him no interest. Reverse psychology. So for the rest of your shift you just ignored him, fully conscious of how his sight followed you at all times. Let him brew.

Joel didn’t say a word though, didn’t come close to you either. But you heard him wicker while you were openly teasing one of your teammates. Were you trying to make him jealous? Absolutely. So, you giggled and played with your hair at the tasteless joke your colleague told you. It wasn’t funny, but you wanted Joel to listen to your flirting.

Midday came around and the other two people working on the hand wash business said their goodbyes. Joel employed a father and son in the shop too, who left the garage to go home for lunch. And then it was only you and Joel left. Just as you had planned.

“Joel? Can you help me with this, please?” You politely asked him after lifting a bucket full of water up to your chest.

You took a couple of steps forward and the water spilt all over, soaking your shirt completely.

“Shit”, you heard him say under his breath, jogging towards you.

He slipped his arms underneath the bucket to release you from its weight and then placed it back down between both of you.

“What are you doing? You’re gonna hurt your back with such terrible manual handling.” He reprimanded you, tutting.

“Something hurts and it’s not my back, Joel.” You muttered, your fingers wrapping around his wrist to haul him closer to you.

You were done with subtlety. You guided his hand to your pussy and pressed it gently.

“Hurts right here.” The low, needy mumble poured from your lips like honey.

Joel’s eyes squinted just a tad, and his nostrils flared. You saw the inner battle in his chocolate eyes, and you fucking hoped he lost.

Soon you had the answer you had been looking for. The palm of his hand flattened against your crotch, holding you possessively, and pulled you against his broad chest. You couldn’t help but moan when your breasts pressed against him, your taut nipples aching with sensitivity.

“You’re so fucking nasty, kiddo. Been watching you all week, trying to get me hard all over again, haven’t you?” You shyly nodded, biting down your bottom lip as you glanced up at him, his palm rubbing your cunt with determination. “Of course you have, you’re so cock drunk. You loved sucking me, didn’t you?”

You shook your head yes, holding onto the waistband of his jeans. You whimpered when his thumb burrowed in your pants, trying to find your slit over all that clothing unsuccessfully.

“Joel, please.” You begged for mercy, for relief, for something ― anything he could give you, you would take.

“You want me to fuck you, kiddo?” His free hand cupped your chin, tilting your head up, while his thumb kept nudging your damp slit. His mouth hovered over yours as you simply nodded again. “Hm? You want me to destroy your pussy?”

“Yes, yes, YES.” You were already gushing at his dirty talk.

With no more prodding, Joel bowed down and sunk his tongue in your mouth, darting in with the ferocity only a man on the edge could feel. He swept your entire cavity in an open-mouth kiss that left your knees shaking and your pussy throbbing. You moaned into his breath and your tongue lapped at his, the span on his fingers gently covering your neck and squeezing lightly.

Joel’s hand between your legs moved to your ass, pressing you into him. His swollen lump poked at your lower belly intimately and you couldn’t resist the urge to dip your hand in his boxers. He audibly groaned as you attempted to circle his whole girth and failed. Just like a week before, you would need both of your hands around his shaft to properly grip him. You pumped him once, very slow, your hand gliding down till it found his balls.

Joel grunted in the middle of the sloppy kiss and pushed you to go backwards until your body met the back of his pickup truck, which was parked at the end of the driveway. Out of prying eyes, you hoped. Not that you cared that much at this precise moment, anyway.

His beard scratched the skin on your cheek as his lips drifted down to your neck. You looked up to the clear sky before you closed your eyes, giving his pulsing cock a light squeeze that snatched a moan out of him.

Without warning, Joel broke the messy kiss and knelt before you, his hands tugging at the waistband of your shorts with no difficulty. Soon your pants were around your ankles, your panties quickly following, leaving you naked from the waist down. Joel helped you take them off but left your tennis on.

Still on his knees, he peeked up with a devilish smile, then leaned forward and lapped at your mound. A heavy sigh slipped from your lips as your fingers raked his salt and pepper curls. The tip of his tongue brushed the point where your slit started and then licked upwards, his tongue skidding through your skin until it reached your belly button.

You pursed your lips, wanting him to go down, not up. In fact, you pushed him down ever so slightly and the cold of his breath against your wet skin when he laughed made you look down, frustrated.

He kissed the beginning of your slit again and when you thought he was going in, he stopped. You whimpered, thwarted, as he got back up to his feet and towered above you.

“You want me to touch you where it hurts, hm?” He questioned with his lips ghosting yours. “Your pussy? That’s where?”

Not waiting for your reply, his index dunked in your pearly furrow and traced it in its entirety, from your quivering hole to your thumping clit. And then he did it again, for good measure.

“You’re soaking, kiddo. I’ve barely touched you and you’re already dripping.” To emphasize his words, Joel suddenly dived his finger in your opening, a squelching sound making it obvious that you were, in fact, dripping. “You hear that?” He forced his finger out and then back in, the wet, sucking noise even louder this time.

You frantically nodded as he fingered you, his thumb caressing your begging clit as he did. You mewled into his chest, eyes shut, trying to calm the fluttering of your inner walls around his lonely finger. Lonely not for long, because Joel then introduced a second. You held onto his sides, his tee shirt scrunching in your fists, the orgasm building up.

“C’mon, squeeze your cunt for me. Show me how tight you are”, he whispered in your ear as his relentless fingering picked up a faster pace between your legs.

You happily obliged and squashed your walls together around his fingers as he dextrously stroked your g-spot. All of a sudden, a firing sensation built in your clit without warning and the haziness of pleasure took over your senses abruptly. You came hard, very hard, wailing his name as he kept on fingering you until the last wave of your climax washed over you.

What the actual fuck? You thought to yourself, amazed. You rested your forehead against his chest, catching a breath and feeling your arousal wetting your inner thighs.

Still recovering from your unexpected orgasm, Joel picked you up and settled you down on the edge of his truck’s cargo bed. Your feet dangled in front of you, and you parted your legs to make room for him while you wrapped his neck with your arms and licked into his mouth.

“Now I’m gonna eat you raw, kiddo. Give you some of your own medicine.” His hoarse tone gave you goosebumps. Palming both of your breasts over your wet tank top, he pushed you down until your back met the floor of the cargo bed, your legs hanging freely from your knees down. “Is that what you want? This old man feasting on your pussy, on her? ‘S she gonna like it?”

“Joel, please, just― Yes, eat my pussy. Eat her, eat me, please.” You begged with a small voice while you pinched your nipples over your shirt, eyes closed.

And finally, he did. With his hands on your knees to keep them apart, Joel lapped at your cunt in one sweet sweep. Your body trembled with elation, shivers firing down your spine. His tongue caressed all the crevices in your shiny slit, lips puffy and reddened. His thumb found your clit as the tip of his tongue played with your leaking hole, going in and out a few times ― fucking you with his tongue.

You were not able to take it for much longer ― with Joel’s tongue lodged in your creamy fold and your fingers playing with your nipples, you were done for. Soon you came undone, tension growing in your lower belly and molten lava finding its way out. You howled his name, your knees pressing against his head, holding him in place as you came in his mouth. Joel sipped from your fountain, leaving not even one drop behind, your pussy licked clean of your own discharge.

His turn to find relief.

Even though Joel had been fisting himself while eating you raw, the roughness of his palm could not compare to your warmth. He just knew your pussy would hug his cock just right. And he was dying to find out.

Pushing his work jeans and boxers down to his ankles, he kicked his feet until they came off. Soon his security shoes and socks were kicked to the side too. With renewed energy, Joel jumped on to the cargo bed. You propped your torso up with the help of your elbows to study his erection, wetting your lips unknowingly.

Your eyes lingered on his cock for too damn long and it twitched on his hand.

“Spread your legs, kiddo.”

And so you did without complaints. You stretched your legs, Joel having a perfect view of your glistening pussy. You were so horny, he could literally see your cunt palpitating from this angle. Knelt between your legs, he leaned forward until the tip of his dick brushed against your slit, so damp again it just slid off. Jerking himself off, he nudged your soaked entrance with his mushroom head and your mouth opened, shaping a perfect O.

“So needy, isn’t she? Aren’t you? Playing difficult to catch today, trying to make me jealous with that stupid boy, but in reality, you’re just a desperate brat wanting to get her pussy drilled by her dad’s best friend.” His dirty talk did not stop while he pushed in, your flesh parting to house him until he bottomed out.

Joel moaned, sweat gathering on his brow, his hands on either side of your head. He stood still for a long minute while your cunt fluttered around him, sheathing his whole length. He could feel your inner muscles adjusting to him.

You were so cockstruck you didn’t even reply.

“I’m gonna fuck you now, so take it well, kiddo.” He warned before tilting his hips back and abruptly back in.

You wailed loudly at the first thrust, and Joel had to muffle your screams by covering your mouth with his hand. You licked his palm, but he didn’t let go. He did not want you to alert the neighbours around the garage. His hips bucked against yours and then, after a few teasing shoves, Joel started jackhammering you fast and viciously hard.

You draped your legs around his waist, the heels of your white tennis pushing on his ass cheeks, encouraging to go deeper and quicker. And so he did, uncovering your mouth to replace it with his.

Joel fucked you mercilessly, filthily. He drove his dick in and out of you in quick succession, drilling your tacky pussy. And he knew you were loving every single second of it. Your soft sobs only spurred him on and when your moist pussy clutched around his drumming cock announcing your orgasm, he couldn’t restraint himself for much longer.

He stoically let you come while riding your own climax. His balls tightened and his belly muscles strained, signalling his own relief.

“Where?”, was the only word that he managed to whisper.

Your eyes were still closed, a languid smile lingering on your lips, all blissful and satisfied while he was still fucking suffering.

“In my mouth.” Your reply was almost his undoing.

Joel snapped his hips back, his hard, throbbing cock slipping out. He dragged his body across yours until his thick, hairy thighs were on each side of your head and his nuts were resting on your chin, his ass hanging over your breasts.

“Open”, he husked, raspy and throaty.

Still with your eyes closed, you parted your lips, and Joel shoved his beating cock down your throat unceremoniously. He leaned forward over you ― his hands holding his weight off you, flat against the cargo bed’s floor. And then Joel started fucking your mouth mindlessly, as if it was your cunt ― his testicles slapping against your chin and your eyes welling up.

He could feel your head almost rocking up and down below him with the strength of his thrusts. You only stopped swaying underneath him when your hands grabbed his buttocks, your fingers sinking in his flesh.

With a guttural growl, Joel came undone and his thick cum filled your mouth. You stayed still while the last white ropes spurted out the slit on his tip, finally reaching the bliss he had been chasing for a week.

Joel lifted his hips off your face and his dick came out of your mouth with a pop.

“Eat it, kiddo.” He requested of you, towering above you.

From this angle, flat on your back and with Joel almost sat on your face, you saw first his balls and then his soft cock hovering over your eyes. What had just happened was filthy, and you loved it, even though you were sure that your throat would hurt tomorrow.

“It’s $300 if I swallow”, you kidded out of nowhere, almost gargling with his cum as your mouth was full of it.

Joel chuckled as he came off you, sitting down on your left.

“Deal”, he agreed.

And so you gulped his cum down, letting it slip down your throat until it landed in your belly. You smiled at him before opening your mouth to show him it was empty.

Joel’s chest rumbled with satisfaction.

“Good girl.”

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caffienemocha · 2 days

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Ace from One Piece please

(oh boy oh boy I'm getting out of my hiatus for this one. BTW THIS IS A SHORT FAN FIC because I've been in a tight schedule and this was just a short ramble :0)

<WARNING: NSFW AHEAD so minors DNI >> any readers that doesn't identify as a male DNI!! >>

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ PORTGAS D. ACE X MALE READER ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖

˗ˏˋ 'lemme make it up to you ˎˊ˗

You asked yourself, how did you end up being the boyfriend of the infamous Portgas D. Ace? Although he seems like a cocky, cool, and composed fellow, he's actually pretty clumsy and a dumbass most of the time. You take care of his mess, cook food for him three times a day (not including his midnight snacks), the usual house husband type of stuff. Although he sails around the sea, embarking with the Whitebeard Pirates gathering treasures and casually causing chaos and annoyance to wandering Marine in the area, Ace still holds a fair share of help in the house that rested near the dock the two you live in by giving you an allowance to buy groceries and things you want and need. Ace isn't the perfect boyfriend and he knows it. The countless nights you've slept alone without Ace by your side from his sailings, and even when he returns, he'll either leave in a short while, a few days or even a day after. He tries to make it up to you, by trying to cheer you up with gifts, affection, or straight up session after session of love-making. That doesn't fill the emptiness in your heart though, you wanted Ace to stay for a bit longer, you wanted him to at least stay for a few weeks. You wanted him to take you on dates like the first weeks of you two being boyfriends, you wanted him to treat you like a prince and pamper you as much as he did those years ago. But it was a duty of a pirate to sail the blue oceans, cross the seas, hunt for treasures, and wipe those oppose them, only to come back for a short while before leaving again. Again, you asked yourself, how'd you ended up for someone who isn't there for you most of the time?

..."I'm home." The door creaked open as the salty breeze of the sea nearby went inside the house as Ace took off his shoes and placed it right by the door before closing it and locking it. Holding a small box of treasure full of gold, jewels, and other gems, Ace took off his hat as he went inside the cozy abode, placing the box on the center table. "Welcome back, Ace." You greeted your taller boyfriend with a warm smile as you came out the kitchen, the aroma coming from the room behind you smelled magically and comforting for Ace, he hadn't eaten for a while. "There's my baby. C'mere." He softly chuckled as you took steps forward to his muscular figure who had his arms open wide, wanting to hug you after a few weeks apart. With a sigh of amusement, you hugged him back as your rugged clothes rubbed against his exposed torso. "I missed you so bad, why do you have to be gone for so long..." You said in a whiny tone, as if begging him to stay more longer than usual. Ace's instinct immediately had his arms wrapped around your smaller frame, his muscled arms comforting you. "I know, babe, I know...we already had this conversation before. The seas are big." Ace sighed as if wanting to stay like this forever but his stomach gurgled in response, betraying his thoughts as he let out a nervous laugh, "Quite hungry." "Obviously, you knucklehead." You replied sarcastically. "What're you cooking? Smells delicious." Ace asked with the familiar smile you've been wanting to see after the past few days. "You'll see, c'mon." As you grabbed his arm, you immediately lead him to the kitchen with a pot placed atop a stove, releasing steams of flavorful aroma that lingered around the room. "How about you take a seat while I prepare your food?" Ace only nodded at your words before going out of the kitchen, sitting in the living room as he whistled. Grabbing the pot cover, you grabbed a bowl as you used your ladle to scoop up the delicious stew you've cooked and tenderized ever since this morning. Serving it atop of freshly, cooked rice, you stepped out of the kitchen holding a bowl and a spoon for Ace to use to chow down. Placing it in front of him, the aroma hit Ace's nose as the delicious bowl of protein and rice laid before him. "Looks delicious, babe. Thanks." He said before grabbing it and chowing it all down spoon after spoon.

"So, what have you been up to while I was gone?" Ace asked in between bites and chewing. The question caught you off-guard, why so sudden? Yet you answered. "The usual. Clean the house, walk around the dock, watch the sea, buy groceries..." Your voice faded with a mutter as you scratched the back of your head. Ace knew something was wrong, something that signaled him that you truly need him. That he'll stay longer than what he usually does so. Ace didn't replied back until he was finished with his bowl of food, drinking water to wash it all down. Without warning, Ace then pinned you to the chair you're sitting on, his eyes nonchalant yet a glimmer of care and worry shining on his pupils. "Tell me what's wrong. You've missed me so much than usual, huh? Is that right?" He interrogated you as he continued pressing your wrist down the rails of the chair, his face mere inches away from yours. You let out a blush of flustered feelings and a scoff. "You're always gone, of course I've missed you..." You replied in a muttered voice, Ace let out a smirk as he got closer to your face, his freckles adoring his already handsome complexion. "'Lemme make it up to you then, babe." Without warning, he carried you on his shoulders as he went to the bedroom, locking it just after he, and along you on his shoulders, came in and throwing you to bed. "I always remembered you like it rough, you little masochist."

Out of his back revealed a rope, placing it roughly beside your body as the taller male ripped you out of your clothes, placing the torn linen to the floor. Your cute little body obviously turned him on, seeing how his noticeable, massive bulge on his crotch. "I'm gonna make it up to you- I'll go rougher than usual ... so better say yes or no before I ravage your entire body and leave it sore."

[🔥] like for part 2

#gay #sub!reader #bottom!reader #m4m #one piece #ace x reader #portugas d ace #portgas ace x male reader #lgbtqia #one piece x reader #one piece x you #x bottom male reader #bottom male reader #male reader

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starryeyedmagic · 2 days

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as someone who is on the spectrum, i kind of wish there was more posts in the community that related to both feedism and neurodivergence/autism

like, for example, i have a lot of sensory concerns, so there are some things holding me back in my gain because i can’t find a way around it on my own

i end up spending near $50 buying way too much food so i can attempt to stuff myself, but i hate the feeling of being stuffed afterwards so much to where i don’t feel like i want to eat anymore

that can also be just stuffing in general, but more sensory related things that i feel are halting my gain are the thoughts of tastes and textures of some things people in the community have used to skyrocket their own gains

i’m talking weight gain shakes, straight heavy cream, melting butter, melting ice cream, etc.

in retrospect, i know for a fact heavy frequent consumption of the above would do wonders for me and get me out of my plateau of 300lbs, but from a neurodivergent standpoint i know it would be a sensory nightmare

if any of that makes sense

#starryeyedrambles #feedee belly #feedee encouragement #feedee feeder #feedee girl #female fat admirer #female ffa #gaining weight on purpose #looking for a feeder #mutual gaining #fat belly

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surielstea · 2 days

Text

“Hey, Stranger.”

Based on a request.

Pairing: Rhysand x Fem!Reader

Summary: In attempt to get away from the ball, Rhysand encounters a generous stranger and seems to find exactly what he’s looking for when she invites him in.

Warnings: Mention of sickness | all fluff | teensy argument at the end but has a HEA :)

4.1k words

Rhys had yet to decide where it was exactly he was going. His hands were tucked into his pockets and the darkness of his power swirling from his neatly pressed jacket.

He left the ball thrown in his honor quickly after it started, it was an event meant solely for him to find a High Lady, or at least scope out the options.

A night of mindless women vying for attention that he had no care for, none of them held what he was looking for, and none of them were her. Who she was, he had no clue, but he would, once he found her.

A low whistle came from his lips, the tune the same one he heard as he snuck out of his own damned party.

I was squatted down beside the bar sign, writing the nightly specials with the chalk in my hands when the stranger approached.

"One free drink with the order of a meal? It's almost too good to be true," The male said. I turned, not noticing his footsteps, and glancing towards him. I chuckle, rising to face him— even if he towered over me, and readjusted the sign to stand on its own. "You hungry? I could open up a few minutes early," I offer and his dark, manicured brows lift in slight surprise. He was beautiful, truly, his tanned features and hair dark as night complimenting his stunning violet eyes that seemed to be stealing the breath from my lungs.

"Such generosity, from a stranger," He smirks, his eyes softening as he took in my modest dress and simple hairstyle. It wasn't pity that shone in that glorious violet, but warmth. Then those eyes flick down from my face, lower, then slowly trail my figure all the way back up— lingering for a moment on the way my neckline dipped a little too low for comfort. I blurt out my name and his eyes snapped back to mine, not at all looking ashamed for his staring.

"There, not strangers anymore." I shrug with a gentle grin. He mirrors it with a charismatic smile that has been guaranteed to have dropped panties before.

"Lead the way then," He jerked his head back towards the tavern and I nodded, swiveling on my heel and heading towards the propped open, slightly worn red door. The tavern itself was a little rough around the edges, the paint chipping from the walls, the fireplace dusty, and half of the table legs were uneven. But it paid the bills and the regulars didn't seem to mind as long as we served drinks.

"Why aren't you at the ball tonight?" The male asked as I loved my way around the bar counter and he sat on one of the stools.

"I have to stay and look after my mother," I explain, and I wasn't sure why I told him something so personal, so I quickly added, "Besides, once that ball is over this bar will fill tremendously. Someone's got to run it."

He simply nods in reply, leaning onto the counter with fascination in his eyes, as if I were a creature to be studied.

"And what about you? Why'd you leave?" I ask, turning away from his stare to pour him a mug of ale.

"I didn’t find what I was looking for there," He explains as I place the mug in front of him. "Out here, though, much better." His eyes linger on me as he brings the glass up to his sensuous lips, and something tells me he wasn't telling me the entire truth.

"That's all? I don't buy it, you're too polished to be wandering like this, what's the true reason?" I lean my hands onto the counter, tilting my head at him.

"Polished, huh? If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're flirting with me." He taunted, setting his mug down and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"And I'd say you're deflecting," I retort. "So tell me, what are you hiding, stranger?" I smirk, using the nickname to my advantage, if only to further show I knew very little about him.

"Perhaps I found a better reason to stay away?" He suggests, leaning back in his stool with casual grace as if he comes to this bar nightly.

"Oh? And what might that be?" I arch a brow, pushing off the counter and crossing my arms over my chest.

His smirk widens. "I'm looking at her." He purrs and a blush blooms across my cheeks and my heart rate picks up, I prayed to every god that he couldn't hear it.

I steel my features into submission as I say, "You're not a very subtle male are you?"

He snorts, looking down at his pressed black suit. "What about me says subtle?" His eyes come back up to mine, reaching to his lapel and picking an invisible piece of lint from it.

I chuckle and shake my head. "Very little," I say with an amused smile, going over to the sink and grabbing a damp cloth that hung over the faucet, wanting to busy my hands, I begin wiping down the countertop.

"So is this what you do, then? Tavern maid by day, barmaid by night?"

"No, I only work the night shift here, I'm a teacher at the school down the road during the day," I explain, a proud grin on my lips as I think of all my young students.

"A teacher? I thought they were supposed to be strict?" He suggests and I smirk, glancing up at him with a wicked gleam in my eyes.

"I can be strict if you'd like," I shrug, feigning innocence.

"You're bold for someone who doesn't know who they're talking to," He purred in reply and I scoffed.

"Bold?"

"Inviting me in? Flirting with me?" He suggests, leaning onto the bar, closer to me.

"I am not flirting. And I'm only being nice, you looked like you needed saving from your own thoughts." I shake my head, turning away from him and discarding the damp rag back over the sink faucet before moving towards the kitchens where I could prepare him a meal.

"And you think a meal will do that?" He asks from behind me, I can feel his stare on my figure as I shuffle behind the bar for a plate.

"I've been told I make a killer pie, you'd be surprised how far a slice will get you," I say while playing with a piece of my signature pie.

"I'll take one then," He hums and I walk back over to him, placing the plate of warm pie in front of him.

"Good." I hold a fork out to him. He takes it with wild amusement in his gaze before digging into the slice and taking a large bite. I tried to pretend I wasn't watching his reaction, instead refilling his ale but his minor groan did not slip past my notice.

"So, you never told me your name, what should I call you?" I lift a brow, glancing over at him and pushing his mug back over beside his plate.

"Handsome? Mysterious? Dashing? All three? I'll let you decide." He replied unflinchingly and it takes everything in my power not to scoff.

"I think I'll stick with 'stranger' for now," I give him a pointed look but he only replies with a one-shouldered shrug.

"Your loss."

———

The Stranger came back the next day, and the next, and the next. I always set a slice of pie aside for him. He usually came in at the end of the night, when the crowds dwindled and the barstools were put up, and once he was done with his food he helped me with the dishes, and I tried not to acknowledge the way my heart skipped a beat when our hands would brush beneath the warm soapy water. He'd always walk me home afterward and bid me farewell at the door, and only once he was gone would I realize that I never got his name. And if I did remember he'd change the subject or call himself handsome again.

I didn't get too hung up on it, I was far too distracted by his casual grace and clever remarks.

At some point we had shifted into him walking me from the school house to the bar, then meeting with me again to walk me home, I don't even know how it happened, how he had interwoven himself so much into my life. Not a stranger, a friend, whom I still did not know the name of.

I hadn't been expecting to see the stranger today. I wasn't working at the bar tonight, I told him that, yet here he was at the school house grouped with all the parents there to pick up their kids. They stared sometimes, at me and him. It was unabashed and more of a gawking look than a stare but if the love life of their children's school teacher is the only drama they have in their lives then so be it. I let them stare as the Stranger slung an arm around me and guided me along.

"I thought I told you yesterday I'm not working tonight?" I say, propping my hands on my hips as I stare at him with a pointed stare. "Which means no daily pie?" I say because that's what this was, right? He'd walk me to and from the tavern for some free food then be on his way. That was all.

He shrugs, his hands in his jacket pockets casually as he utters, "I still wanted to see you, slice or no."

"Shouldn't you be busy with more important things?" I ask, taking a few steps closer as a gaggle of young kids rush past me with their bags halfway on their shoulders, running to their parents.

"Who says this isn't the most important?" He suggests and a pink hue graces my cheeks. I look down at one of my students struggling with his bag.

"Well, you're always welcome," I say while leaning down and adjusting the boy's straps onto his back. The kid thanked me then rushed off, staring slightly at the Stranger in wonder. "Though the kids might ask you to read a story if they see you hanging around too much." I smile teasingly while brushing the front of my clothes off.

"I think I can manage that." He hummed, staring at me like I hung every star in the night sky that this court worshipped.

"I hope you know I'll be holding you to that," I say with a small smile, grabbing my own bag from its cubby and slinging it over my shoulders.

"Can you hold me to walking you home as well, or should I take my leave?" He asks, leaning against the doorway of my classroom.

I scoff a laugh, shaking my head amusedly. "I suppose some company would be nice." I drone dramatically and he returns my chuckle with his own rich, deep laugh.

The crunch of shoes on gravel sounded as the Stranger walked beside me, his black suede shoes so contrasting to my colorful kitten heels that the younger girls in my class adored so much. "So what does a school teacher do on her night off?" He asks after a pause of comfortable silence. Our hands brush as we walk, so I shove my hands into my pockets and shrug.

"Oh you know, wild stuff, baking pies, reorganizing the pantry, going to bed after dinner, truly living on the edge," I remarked, tossing him an incredulous glance.

"Dangerous, I might have to stick around just to make sure you survive." He intones and a soft giggle leaves my lips as I tuck a lock of hair behind my ear.

I could feel his stare linger on me at that moment, and perhaps it was the sun setting behind me, or the echo of my laugh, but I could’ve sworn he whispered, “Beautiful.” I glanced at him curiously but he looked away.

"You know, I've been thinking—" He started and cut him off.

"Treacherous words." I purr, earning myself a sidelong glare.

"Rude, as I was saying, I've been thinking that you might be one of the most interesting people I've ever met." He confesses and I snort, looking at him like he’s gone mad.

"What's funny about that?" He frowns, crossing his arms over his chest— and I most definitely did not miss the way his muscular arms strained against the fabric of his jacket.

"I work two jobs and live with my sick mother, there's not much interesting there," I utter, looking at the familiar slightly run-down town townhouse in front of me.

He shrugs. “I stand by what I said,” He hums, continuing to stay beside me all the way up to the front door.

My hand rested on the doorknob but I didn’t make the move to go inside, instead, I turned to him— my breath hitching at our proximity. I hadn’t realized how close he was, but now I could feel the warmth radiating off of him, his smell of sea salt and citrus invading my senses. I swallowed thickly as his eyes glanced down to my lips, then quickly back to my eyes.

"You've got flour on your cheek," He murmured and I flushed beet red in embarrassment.

"Still? Oh gods, I was prepping some dough for the tavern this morning," I replied, rubbing at my cheek with panicked movements and he chuckled, moving forward and reaching towards my face, then hesitating before touching me.

"Here, can I?" He arches a dark brow and I blink up at him but nod.

He cups my jaw, his thumb swiping over my cheek in a lover's caress. His touch was so intimate, and his calloused hands only brought warmth.

“There,” Again, his gaze went down to my lips, but before he could lean in I turned towards the door, fumbling with my bag for my keys while clearing my throat.

His touch didn’t linger as he retracted his hand and then took a few steps back. “So do I get an invite inside or am I subject to wandering the streets looking lost until I find my way home?" He suggests, simply filling the silence as I scrounge for my keys.

"Something tells me you're often lost," I say slightly shakily, finally finding my keys and unlocking my door.

"Not with you." He says casually and heat rises to my cheeks. I swing the door open, scanning the room for my mother then figuring she must be in bed. “You can come in, for a few minutes,” I say, entering the house and sliding off my shoes.

He follows my actions and closes the door behind me, taking in the warmly lit cabin, the fireplace crackling in front of the sofa, the curtains spread and welcoming in the last of the sun's rays.

I silently shuffled into the kitchen, and the stranger followed on my heels.

“So this is where the magic gets made, hm?” He said, eyeing a pie half dug into on the counter.

I frown at the sight of it and his brows furrow. “What is it?” He asks as I scan the room.

“I made that pie for you,” I say softly. “Hold on, just a moment,” I say and stalk towards the dining room separated by a partition wall. I peek my head through the open archway, finding my mother at the end of the table with incriminating crumbs and jam on her plate— and the corners of her mouth.

"Mom, what are you doing out of bed?" I sigh, more worried about her health than her stealing a slice from a container that I specifically told her this morning not to eat, granted she was half asleep and any food she could get down was as valuable as gold to me nowadays.

"I need a few moments of feeling young, and this pie will get anyone out of bed." She waves her hand at me dismissively, making a sour face as I attempt to look disappointed.

"Who's your friend?" She jerked her chin in the direction behind me, but she didn’t even glance at him. I turn to see the stranger now leaning against the open doorway, taking up the whole space with his height.

"Uh, he's—” I begin to say, only to realize I could not answer, for I still did not know his name. Yet here I was, inviting him into my home.

"By the cauldron— the High Lord." My mother gasps, standing up, her chair scraping against the tiled floors.

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, gods, you'll have to excuse her, she's a little out of sorts—" I wave her off but the Stranger simply smiles and bows formally to my mother.

"At your service, my Lady."

My mouth goes dry. "You... you're the High Lord?"

The stranger— no, High Lord Rhysand, smirked. It dawned upon me that I never learned his name because he made sure of it, he only visited me during opening and closing hours, and that first night, the night of the High Lords ball, he said he hadn’t found what he was looking for, a potential wife. He had been looking for a High Lady that night.

Yet here he stood in my dining room like he’s always belonged here, his dark hair, his violet eyes, and his tanned skin all slotting into place in my memory of what I’ve learned of my courts High Lord. I swallowed thickly, glancing between him and my mother, then back at him.

“Can we speak, in private?” I say with a polite smile.

He pushes off the doorframe and moves for me to pass through. “Lead the way.” He gestures for me to pass with his hand in a dramatic manner. “It was nice meeting you, Miss,” The High Lord smiles charmingly at my mother and I grab his arm, dragging him down the hall towards my bedroom.

“You too, dearie!” My mother calls in a slightly frail voice.

I ignore him and pull the male into my room, closing the door behind him and then staring at him like he’s turned my world upside down.

I didn’t know how to react or what to say. I wanted to be furious at him, wanted to scream and yell and throw something at him to express the suffocating emotions clawing up my throat, but for some reason, I couldn’t.

Because beneath the betrayal, the anger, and the shock, lay something I thought I’d never experience. That flutter of something warm I felt when he smiled at me, or when our hands brushed, made me feel safe in ways I thought I never could before.

“Why didn’t you trust me enough to tell me?” I whisper, quiet but not weak. My words were barely audible but he heard me, he always did.

“It’s not that I didn’t trust you, I just, I got lost in the feeling of you seeing me, for me.” He expressed but my glare did not waver.

“But you still have duties, you have a title— you have a gods damned court, you can’t just use me to play pretend,” I argue.

His eyes soften at my words and he takes a dangerous step forward. “I’m not using you, and I’m not playing pretend— in fact, it’s quite the opposite. With you Darling, I feel more like myself than I have in centuries.” He admits and I swallow, wringing my hands anxiously. “I wanted to tell you,” He adds.

“You should have,” I stress with narrowed brows, a furious expression that didn’t quite meet my eyes.

“But would you have treated me differently if you had known from the start?” He suggests and I clamp my mouth shut.

He was right, I doubt I’d be as unguarded with him if I knew of his title, and I certainly wouldn’t allow him to walk me home every night, and gods— oh gods, I flirted with him. The High Lord.

“I don’t know,” I sigh, rubbing at my face, unsure how to navigate any of this.

“I’m still me, nothing has to change.” He takes another step, less than an arm's distance away now. Too close, or too far. I didn’t know.

“But they do, you’re a High Lord and I’m just—”

“Don’t. Don’t finish that sentence, you are far more than ‘just’ anything.” He cuts me off and I release a low, well-earned sigh.

“High Lord,” I muttered under my breath, the weight of the title seeming to make my room close in around us.

“Rhys, please, call me Rhys.” He grabbed my still fidgeting hands, his familiar callouses still the same, the warmth still the same.

“I could never fit in your world,” I express.

“You already do, in ways I thought never imaginable.” He expressed, his thumb caressing over the fluttering pulse in my wrist.

“I don’t know what the future holds, but I know I want you in it— beside me, I mean.” He confessed and I swore my breathing stopped and the words were stolen from my mouth.

“You, you can’t be serious,” I shake my head, disbelief encasing me.

“I told you I didn’t find what I was looking for the night of the ball, but I did— an equal, a High Lady.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Everything was a phantom wind, except those violet eyes that I feel like I’ve known my entire life. Those remained steady, constant. “Rhys,” I whisper and the tension in his shoulders dissipates, as if hearing his name on my lips had lifted a weight atop them.

“I don’t know the first thing about, any of that,” I admit and a soft smile tugs at his lips.

“That’s okay, we can figure it out, together.” He promised. “You don’t have to decide right now, you don’t have to decide for another century if that’s what you prefer— just think about it, because I truly believe no one else could fill that role, not the way you can.”

I nodded slowly, still processing everything, and leaning into his touch, his hand slipping into mine while his other came to cup my cheek.

“Okay, I’ll think about it,” I nod. Because I had to weigh my job at the schoolhouse, and my situation with my mother— I couldn’t just uproot my life and move into a palace.

“Will you also think about finally letting me kiss you?” He mutters, our noses nearly brushing.

I crack a sly smile. “I’ve done enough thinking about that, come here Stranger,” I grab him by his collar and he grins wildly the moment our lips connect.

His hand on my jaw slides to the nape of my neck while his other moves to my hip, pulling me impossibly closer.

My arms sling over his shoulders, my chest pressed to his, slotting together like the final piece to a puzzle I’ve been trying to finish for years.

Everything else faded away as my back made contact with the cold wood of my door and his wicked tongue slid over my bottom lip. I gasped softly and he took advantage of the moment to invade my mouth. He explored and tasted and savored every inch he could find, memorizing the feel of me against him, my taste, my rapid heartbeat, my muffled noises.

I didn’t know I was suffering from lack of oxygen until he pulled away and I had to take a deep, recovering inhale.

I blinked a few times, the kiss tilting my world on its axis.

He chuckled, the sound like velvet against my bare skin. “That really did a number on you, huh?” He taunted and I glared up at him, wrapping my arms a little tighter around the back of his neck.

“Don’t get cocky, I’m still mad at you,” I grumble but his smile didn’t falter.

“In my defense, you never asked if I was the High Lord,” He said matter of factly and I rolled my eyes.

“Oh, right because that’s a normal question to ask people I meet on the street.” I scoff and he nods, staring down at me with a love-drunken smile.

“I might take you up on that High Lady offer sooner than expected if kissing is a part of my job description,” I murmur, ghosting my lips over his.

He gifts me a wolfish grin in reply. “Much more than kissing is on that description,” He purrs, matching my tone.

“Tempting.” I rise onto my toes and connect our lips once again, and again, and again. Prepared to do so until I was sure I was sick of the taste of him.

I knew it was reckless to make such life-changing decisions so suddenly, but internally it was clear what my answer would be to his offer.

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thinkinginpen · 23 hours

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Unexpected Company Part 2

a/n: It may not be the holidays yet but who doesn't love some good Christmas spirit in the fall? And two in one hour? Damn. pairing: old!logan x reader w/c: 3.6k warnings: romance, hinting, love, fake dating, age gap, etc. summary: You went to Logan's house, your grumpy old neighbor, to bring him cookies and get away from the Christmas party. Little did you know this grumpy old man would take a turn. Next thing you knew he was lecturing your ex on how to treat a girl right.

You reluctantly followed your ex as he led you away from the others. He steered you to a quiet corner of the room, out of earshot of the rest of the party. His expression was cold and unforgiving.

"What the hell is going on here?" he hissed.

"What do you mean?" you asked, feigning ignorance. You knew what he was talking about, but playing dumb seemed like your best bet at this point.

"You know damn well what I'm talking about!" he snapped. "You show up with some old dude in tow and act like he's your boyfriend? Don't try to play dumb with me, I know it's bullshit!"

"It's not bullshit," you said defensively. "He really is my boyfriend."

Your ex rolled his eyes, scoffing. "Yeah, right. You expect me to believe that you're dating some old geezer?"

"Yes, I do," you retorted. "What, are you jealous or something?"

He sneered, clearly unconvinced. "Jealous? Of a fossil? Fat chance. No, I just want to know what kind of game you're playing here."

You gritted your teeth, frustrated by his tone. "I'm not playing any game. I'm dating him, and that's it."

He let out a hollow laugh. "Okay, fine. Say I believe you. How did that even happen? How'd you end up with some old man instead of me?"

You hesitated, not sure how to answer that. There was no way in hell you were going to tell him the truth - that the only reason you were pretending to be in a relationship with Logan was to get under his skin.

You took a deep breath and decided to stick with the same cover story you'd used earlier. "It just happened, I guess. We clicked."

He snorted, still not buying it. "Yeah, right. You expect me to believe that you just randomly met this guy and started dating him? I don't buy it."

Your frustration was growing. How dare he question the validity of your relationship, even if he was right?

"Believe whatever you want," you said, crossing your arms. "But it doesn't change the fact that I'm dating him, and he's better than you in every way."

Your ex's expression darkened at your words, his fists clenching. "Oh, so now you're gonna pull that crap? You honestly think this guy is better than me?"

He stepped closer to you, looming over you. "You're really gonna choose an old man over me?"

You didn't back down, meeting his angry gaze defiantly. "Yes, I am. He's more mature than you, and treats me a lot better."

Your ex scoffed. "Yeah, maybe because he's been alive longer than my grandparents. You think he'll be able to keep up with you in a couple years?"

"Better than you can," you shot back. "At least he's still active. He works out, he can do stuff. What've you been doing every day since we broke up? Playing video games and eating pizza rolls?"

He bristled, clearly insulted. "That's not all I do!"

"Oh really? What else do you do?" you asked, feigning curiosity. "I mean, you spend a lot of time on the couch. I'm sure you got up from there at some point."

He clenched his jaw, clearly getting more and more frustrated. "That's not the point!" he snapped. "The point is that there's no way you're really dating this old dude. You're just trying to make me jealous, right? That's it, isn't it?"

You felt a flicker of satisfaction as he grew more agitated. "No, I'm really dating him."

He gritted his teeth. "No way. Prove it."

"Prove it?" you repeated, surprised by the request. "How am I supposed to prove it to you?"

Your ex rolled his eyes. "I don't know, kiss him or something."

You nearly choked at the sudden request. "Wh-what? You want me to kiss him? Right here, in front of everyone?"

"Why not?" he sneered. "If you're really dating him, it should be easy, right?"

You felt a pang of panic mixed with irritation as he challenged you. You glanced over at Logan, who was still standing calmly across the room, mingling with other people at the party.

Your ex chuckled, noticing your hesitation. "See, you can't do it. You're bluffing, and you know it. You're just using this old guy as a prop to make me jealous, and I'm not falling for it."

You gritted your teeth, feeling a wave of anger and determination wash over you. He was right about one thing - you weren't really dating Logan, at least not in the way he meant. But the way he was demeaning Logan… no matter his age, he deserved better than that.

Logan was listening intently to a conversation with one of the nearby families when he suddenly heard the heated argument between you and your ex. His eyebrows rose, and he subtly moved to listen in.

He was surprised to hear your ex tell you to prove your relationship, but his expression darkened as he heard the other man's mocking tone.

He quickly made his way over to the pair of you, his expression stormy. As he got closer, he made himself known by grabbing your ex by the front of his shirt.

Your ex was suddenly yanked backwards, his shirt crumpling as Logan's fist closed tightly around a fistful of fabric.

He sputtered as he lost his balance, staring up at the much larger man in shock. "What the hell-"

Logan towered over him, leaning down to speak directly in his face. His tone was low and dangerous.

"I'm only going to say this once, boy. Leave the girl alone."

Your ex's expression flickered from surprise to anger. "Excuse me? You can't just-"

But before he could finish, Logan pulled him closer, his grip still tight on his shirt.

"I can do whatever I damn well please," he growled. "And right now, what I'm doing is telling you to leave her alone. Understand?"

Your ex floundered, clearly stunned by the unexpected intervention. But he wasn't cowed, and he tried to pull away from Logan's grip.

"And who are you, her guardian or something?" he snapped. "You got no right to tell me what to do, old man. You don't love her-"

Logan's expression darkened further. He had clearly heard enough.

"I don't love her, huh?" he said gruffly.

Before your ex could react, he tightened his grip on his shirt and slammed him against the nearest wall, pinning him there with one arm.

Your ex's eyes widened in shock and fear as he found himself slammed against the wall. The wall shook from the impact, and several people nearby turned to see what was going on.

Logan leaned in closer, his face mere inches from your ex's. "You little bastard," he growled. "You don't have any idea what it means to love her."

Your ex tried to struggle, but Logan's hold on him was too strong. He was trapped, completely at the mercy of the older man's grip.

"Let- let go of me!" he gasped, his bravado faded as he stared up at Logan's angry face.

Logan's expression was stony, his eyes boring into your ex's. "Not until I'm done talking to you," he said gruffly.

He leaned in even closer, his tone low and dangerous. "You think just because you're young that you know better than anyone else? You think you know her better than I do?"

Your ex was visibly shaken, his cocky demeanor gone in the face of Logan's angry glare.

"I- I do know her better than you," he protested weakly. "I was dating her before you came around."

"Yeah, you were," Logan said gruffly. "And you blew it. Now she's with me, and you need to learn to live with that."

He paused, then suddenly pulled your ex closer, his face a mere inch away. "You're never going to touch her again, boy. Not as long as I'm around."

Your ex's expression wavered, caught between fear and anger.

"You can't just-" he started to say, but Logan cut him off with a glare.

"Dare me," he said gruffly. "Go on, boy. Say what you were gonna say."

Your ex swallowed, clearly intimidated. He tried to pull away from Logan, but he was still pinned in place. After a moment of hesitation, he finally spoke up.

"You can't just take her away from me," he muttered resentfully. "She was mine first."

"You don't own her, boy," Logan snapped, his voice hard as steel. "She's not something you can just claim like a damn trophy. She's her own damn person, and she can make her own damn decisions."

He leaned in closer, his face almost touching your ex's. "And she made the decision to ditch your sorry ass for me."

Your ex's expression darkened at the insult. "And why would she choose some old guy like you?" he shot back, his tone bitter. "What can you give her that I can't?"

Logan's glare hardened, his eyes narrowing into slits. "I can give her a hell of a lot more than you ever did," he said gruffly.

He leaned in even closer, his voice a low growl. "I can give her stability, and respect, and loyalty. Things that you clearly didn't know how to provide."

Your ex tried again to struggle, but he was still trapped in Logan's grip. His expression darkened even further as he spat back.

"What, you think you're some kind of saint, just because you're older? You don't know me. You don't know what I can do for her."

"Oh, I think I have a pretty good idea," Logan said. "And from what I can tell, you're a damn coward who couldn't even keep her happy when you had the chance."

He leaned in so close that his chest was practically pressed against your ex's. "And you think for a second that you could do better than me?"

Your ex was clearly flustered, his expression torn between anger and fear.

"I- I could give her-" he started to say, but Logan cut him off with a scoff.

"Yeah? What, like you could give her a future? What's your plan for the future? Keep working a minimum wage job and play video games in your mom's basement all day?"

Logan chuckled, but he was seething.

"You wanna know what it's like to treat a girl right? First rule: You take care of her. I don't just mean buy her gifts and open doors for her. I mean really take care of her. Be there for her, listen to her, show her respect and loyalty and all the other things you seem to be completely incapable of."

He looked your ex over, his expression still disapproving. "Rule two: don't act like a damn child. Don't throw temper tantrums every time something doesn't go your way, don't blame her for your problems. Have some damn respect and act like you're actually worthy of her."

Logan's expression darkened further. "And rule three: Be a damn man. Don't let the people around you walk all over you, don't let people who don't matter to you drag you down. And for the love of God, don't try to cheat on her just because you can't keep it in your damn pants."

He leaned in closer, his voice low and fierce. "And if by some chance you've managed to follow all three of those rules, then maybe - MAYBE - you might be worthy of someone like her. But let's be honest, boy. We both know you haven't managed to follow a single one."

Your ex was caught between anger and fear, his expression shifting as Logan listed off the rules for treating a girl right. He opened his mouth to argue, but was cut off by another scoff from Logan.

"Don't try to deny it, boy. We both know you've failed at all three. You're a damn child, pretending to be a man. And until you grow the hell up, you will never be worthy of a woman like her."

With that, he finally released his hold on your ex. The younger man stumbled backwards, clearly shaken.

Logan glanced over his shoulder at you, his expression softening. "Come here, darling," he said, his tone suddenly gentle.

You approached the pair, your heart racing after witnessing the intense encounter. You could sense your ex's glower as you stepped up next to Logan, who wrapped a protective arm around your shoulders.

He pulled you close, his presence warm and reassuring. He kept his gaze locked on your ex, his expression still stern.

"He won't be bothering you again, baby," he said gruffly.

Logan led you over to a nearby couch, his arm still around your shoulders. Most of the party seemed to have started minding their own business again, though a few people were still shooting curious glances your way.

He sat down on the couch, pulling you down next to him.

He put his other arm around you so that you were essentially squished between his broad frame and the couch cushions. He could tell that you were still a little shaken up, and he squeezed you gently, trying to reassure you.

"You alright, baby?" he asked gruffly, his voice low so that the other guests couldn't overhear.

"You can stop the act now Mr. Logan."

Logan raised an eyebrow at the sudden change in tone. He continued to hold onto you, but turned to get a better look at your expression.

"What do you mean, hun?" he asked, feigning ignorance.

You could tell that he was playing dumb, probably to save face in front of the other guests. Your expression became a mixture of exhaustion and irritation.

"You know exactly what I mean, Logan," you said. "We can stop. I think we've sold the act enough by now."

Logan's expression softened, and he let out a low chuckle. He glanced around and confirmed that most of the party had gone back to their own conversations.

He leaned in closer, lowering his voice even further. "You sure about that, baby?" he asked, his tone suggestive.

You rolled your eyes, though a slight smile tugged at your lips. "Yes, I'm sure," you reassured him. "I think we've put on enough of a show. No need to keep this going any longer."

He chuckled again, tightening his grip on you. "Well, I don't mind keeping it going a little longer," he said, his voice low and suggestive. "I'm enjoying having you like this."

You sighed, but couldn't help the tingle of heat that ran through you at his words. "Stop it," you said, trying to sound stern despite your growing arousal. "We're in a room full of people, remember?"

Logan chuckled at your protests, clearly enjoying the way you squirmed in his grip.

"C'mon pretty girl, for Christmas' sake please can we keep this going?" he pleaded, his voice low and coaxing.

You fought to keep a straight face, trying not to let his words get to you. But it was difficult, especially with the heat rising in your cheeks.

"I thought the point of this was to make my ex jealous," you reminded him, trying to sound more stern than you felt.

He squeezed you tighter, his expression turning smug. "Yeah, it was," he said, his voice a low rumble. "and we've done a damn good job of that. But now that I've got you all to myself, I'm not ready to let go just yet."

Logan loosened his embrace slightly, allowing you a bit more breathing room.

"Honey," he said, his tone suddenly more polite. "Would you mind grabbing us some food?"

You blinked, a bit taken aback by the unexpected change in tone. But you composed yourself quickly and nodded.

"Sure, I can do that," you said, rising from the couch. "What do you want me to bring back?"

Logan smiled, pleased by your response. "Surprise me," he said. "Oh and how about some of those cookies you and your mother baked?"

You chuckled, amused by his request. "You've got a sweet tooth, huh?" you teased, as you made your way towards the buffet table.

Logan watched you as you walked away, his gaze lingering on your figure. His eyes stayed fixed on you until you disappeared among the crowd, at which point he settled back against the couch, a satisfied smile on his face.

The party continued around him, but his thoughts were focused on you. He couldn't help but feel a stirring of possessiveness. He had played the role of your boyfriend for the evening, and it seemed like he had done a pretty damn good job of it.

As Logan sat on the couch, waiting for you to return, he couldn't help but reflect on how the evening had started. He thought back to just hours earlier when he had been sitting alone, feeling grumpy and wishing he was anywhere else.

Then you had appeared, bringing him a plate of cookies that you had baked yourself. He had been hesitant at first, but the delicious treats had quickly won him over.

He recalled the conversations you had had once you had sat down. He had initially intended to brush you off and get back to his brooding, but he had found that he couldn't bring himself to shoo you away. Instead, he had ended up engaged in a surprisingly enjoyable conversation, and before he knew it, the hour was getting late.

You returned to the couch, your arms laden with food for both of you. You noticed that Logan was deep in thought, and he was visibly startled when you put the food down on the coffee table.

"You spaced out there, old man," you teased, gesturing for him to grab some food.

He chuckled, still slightly disoriented from his musings. "Sorry baby, got lost in thought there," he said, shaking his head.

He perked up when he saw the cookies you had brought back, a smile spreading across his face. "Hey, you remembered."

You chuckled, watching as he eagerly reached for the cookies. "Of course I did," you said, taking a seat on the couch next to him.

"I figured you could use a little comfort food after dealing with my ex," you added, taking a bite of your own food.

Logan grunted in agreement, already stuffing a cookie into his mouth. "Your ex's a damn fool," he said, his voice muffled through the food. "He'll never be good enough for you."

You raised an eyebrow at his assessment. "And you are?" you asked teasingly, poking him in the side.

Logan chuckled, swatting at your hand. "Hey now, watch it. You're gonna make me choke."

He finished his bite of cookie, then turned to look at you dead in the eye. "And to answer your question, hell yes I'd be good enough for you," he said, his tone serious.

You were surprised by his sudden shift in tone, and you found yourself momentarily speechless. You fumbled for a response for a few seconds before finally managing to gather your thoughts.

"You're awfully confident, old man," you said, trying to mask the flutter in your chest.

Logan chuckled at your response, clearly amused by your attempts to hide your reaction to his declaration. He continued to eat his food and the cookies, glancing over at you between bites.

You did the same, trying to ignore the fluttering feeling in your stomach as you silently ate.

The room was filled with the sounds of the ongoing party, but the two of you were mostly silent as you ate. Every so often, Logan would steal a glance at you, his eyes fixed on your lips as you chewed.

You glanced over at Logan, noticing a small spot of food stuck in his beard. It was a bit distracting, and you couldn't help but giggle at the sight.

"You've got something on your face," you said, reaching over and gently swiping the food from his beard.

Logan froze as your fingers touched his beard, and for a moment the two of you just sat there, frozen in the intimate moment. Your fingers lingered in his beard, tracing the length of it and feeling the coarse texture.

And then, almost against his will, Logan found himself tipping his head closer to yours. His eyes met yours, and his expression darkened with desire.

You became aware of his lips drawing ever closer to yours, your breath catching in your throat. Your fingers were still in his beard, as if frozen in place. Your whole world seemed to have narrowed to the two of you in that instant, the sounds of the party fading into the background.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, your lips met. The kiss was gentle at first, a tentative exploration. But then something seemed to snap, and the kiss deepened. Logan reached up to cup your face in his hands, pulling you closer as he claimed your mouth in a hungry kiss.

You found yourself responding eagerly, your fingers tangling in his beard. The kiss was intense, and it felt like the whole world had vanished around you, leaving just the two of you. Your heart raced as his hands held your face in place, his tongue slipping past your lips to deepen the kiss.

Time seemed to stand still as you got lost in the kiss. His beard tickled your skin, and you could feel the heat radiating from his body as he pulled you even closer. Your hands moved up to his shoulders, gripping the material of his shirt as you kissed deeper.

Logan reluctantly pulled back, breaking the kiss as he sucked in a gulp of air. He was breathing heavily, and his expression was still darkened with desire.

He nodded towards your ex, who was watching and seething from across the room.

He leaned in and whispered in your ear, "Merry Christmas, bubba."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Part 1 Part 2

🏷️: @princessleah94 @littlbitch69

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ariannag6-blog · 1 day

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Nanami in bed 18+ MNDI

3k words. Female reader.

Spoiler he’s a simp for poc women

All nanami stories by me will be under the hashtag NanamiAria

Soft dom Nanami

Nanami would be a soft dom. Loves giving you lots of prep for him. Lots of sushing. Sushing if you squirm too much. Sushing if you become overstimulated. He wants to be the one who does all the work. He doesn’t want you to move just stay still and take his gentle love making. He won’t let you lift a finger. If it becomes a bit too much he’ll gently push your limits staying in slightly longer each time to build your stamina. I see him as someone who can last a long time and like long sessions so he will try to slowly and gently build you up to his level.

Occasionally rough fucks you and degrades you slightly when you tease him too much or when he’s had an extra rough day at work. He prefers to be gentle but when you push his buttons too many times you’ll find yourself bent over his desk, dicked down with no preparation. Immediately after a rough session he’ll go back to being sweet. Leaving soft kisses over your whole body. Pulling you in for a hug or cuddles. Saying things like “are you alright love?, You’re perfect., I love you darling.”.

He likes being the provider the one to do all the work so he would prefer being with someone submissive in the bedroom. If you were a top he would let you grind on him a bit but after a few mines Kento would grab your hips, ending up taking charge, being the one bouncing you up and down on him. He’s never aggressive about needing to be the one in charge it’s just in his nature I don’t think he would even realize he’s like this often times.

Nanami experience level

Not that experienced probably has only been with three people tops. Probably hates casual sex or one night stands. Despite his low experience Kento fucks like he’s a porn star quite literally. He can last forever if he wants to, even cum on command. Always knows the right words to say to get you off too it’s like it was scripted but it wasn’t. Love making just comes naturally to him.

You’d think based on his professional quiet composure that he doesn’t think about sex often but that would be a lie. I think he’s quite hyper sexual. Though he would try to match whatever sex drive you had out of respect. To get off when he’s not in a relationship or when you’re not around I don’t see him being the type of guy to watch porn. I see him reading smutty novels. He honestly reads them quite often. As sort of a guilty pleasure. Thats probably where he learned his skills and pillow talk from.

Nanami’s taste in women

Everybody headcannons him as liking women of color. I 100% agree! He loves tan skin, olive skin, dark skin, dark hair, long hair, wavy hair, curly hair, braids, straight hair. Hispanic women, black women, Asian women, mixed women, he loves it all. He would be captivated by some woman that doesn’t look like the usual girl he sees walking around town. He’s never really liked a white girl before especially if they’re blonde because it reminds him too much of himself. He doesn’t realize this consciously he’s always just liked who he’s liked in his eyes. I see him getting turned on everytime you get a tan. Everytime he sees the contrast of your tan skin next to his pale tone. It makes him want to eat you quite literally. He’ll use any excuse he can to drag you down to the beach with him to see your skin glow and grow darker under the sun. Also as an excuse to see you in the new bikini he secretly bought for you. If his woman wore a bonnet he would find it adorable whenever you had one on. He would often buy you new ones that are the highest quality silk in your favorite colors to spoil you. He’s obsessed with dark hair. Doesn’t matter if it’s straight, curly, wavy, braided, coily. He loves it all. You’ll often times find Nanami sneaking up behind you to smell your hair or finding any excuse he can to run his fingers through your locks/touch your hair. He’s quite literally obsessed with all of you. If you were from a different culture he would get turned on everytime you cooked him meals that you grew up with or spoke your native language. He would learn how to speak your Native language secretly to surprise you. Especially as a cute way to propose and a sneaky way to spice up things the bedroom. He would do little things to learn more about your culture overtime to feel closer to you and get to know you better. I see him liking curves on your bottom half. Such as thick thighs, juicy bottom. Definitely more of an ass man. I don’t see him caring if someone has a big chest or not it’s just something that’s either there or isn’t. He’ll cherish whatever body shape you bless him with.

Body hair preferences.

He literally does not give a single fuck what you do with your body hair. He’s obsessed with you no matter what. Nothing will stop him from eating you out. Pubes. He loves you bald, trimmed, different patterns, landing strip, bush. He will love and cherish whatever you have whenever you have it simply because it’s you. Other body hair. He doesn’t care if you shave or not. I think he’d be used to someone who did shave their body hair but wouldn’t tell you what to do. Hes a grown man he doesn’t find body hair to make someone any more or less attractive. I do think he would probably be with someone who preferred to remove all their body hair and preferred him to have some specifically just because I see him being with someone more feminine and traditional. Traditional fem women seem like the type prefer those things at least to me.

For himself I see him having light chest hair and leaving it untouched. Lightly trimming his underarm hair. For his pubes I see him leaving them trimmed, preferring just a little something on his skin. If you asked otherwise for him to be bald or bush he would do whatever you asked to please you.

Nanami dad

Everyone headcannons him as wanting children but personally I would think he’d be scared of that. He would find children to be cute yes but at the end of the day he wouldn’t want his children growing up in a world they ultimately just have to work a stressful 9-5 and probably overtime in. He doesn’t like work he just does it because he has to. He knows he would have to work more if he had a kid and wouldn’t be able to spend the time he wanted with his family. He wouldn’t want to curse a kid with that life.

Regardless of kids he would ask you to quit your job and let him be the provider. He doesn’t want you to feel the same stress he does over work. I think pregnancy would worry him too much. He’d hate how hard it was on a woman’s body. He’d constantly think something bad would happen to you because he’d spend too much time on the internet trying to learn every possibility of something that could happen to stay ahead of it. I do think he has a kink for cuming inside you so he would most likely get a vasectomy so no accidents happen. If you really wanted children he would fuck you silly and remind you with his words how you wouldn’t be able to take him like this often if you were pregnant or busy with kids. When he’s finished with that he’ll buy you a cat instead to keep you occupied and hopefully for you not to ask again or he’ll buy another cat. I see him being a big cat person. Seeing you take care of the cats just doing simple things like that turns him on a lot.

Jealous Nanami

He tries not to be too possessive or jealous. He’s a grown man and understands a woman can live her own life, have her own friends, and what not. Though he tries his hardest to be good but he’s such a jealous man. He tries his best not to show his jealousy thinking it’ll turn you off. Not knowing that you’d actually love that side of him. Everytime you come back from an outing that he didn’t attend he missed your attention so much he’ll fuck you till your dick drunk off of him hoping you’ll feel so good and spoiled from him that you won’t leave again without him anytime soon. Any time you’re out together and a man looks at you he grips you tighter. It makes him want to take you to the nearest restroom, pin you up against the wall, fuck you passionately with love, while he begs you to tell him he’s the only man for you. He’s not insecure he knows you won’t leave or cheat. He also likes when men look at you he likes seeing their eyes shine at you then gaze up to him and realize they can’t have you. He still get’s so jealous from it though he can’t really understand why.

Nanami turn ons.

Doing domestic things turns him on a lot. Such as bringing him lunch, making him coffee,

cleaning, doing laundry. He likes it more than you wearing lingerie especially if you’re doing your chores wearing his shirt. Not that he thinks a woman has to do the domestic labor but he is old fashioned and traditional so he prefers traditional roles. He sees you doing these things as a sign of love and care. He also does the household duties when he has time off of work if there’s anything that needs to be done. Knowing you get to relax while he takes care of a household duty turns him on. You’ll often find him dragging you into the shower with him to fuck you silly when he’s finished mowing the lawn, or mopping the floors. He especially loves it when he comes home to find you doing something you love like cooking. When you’re cooking one of his favorite meals he’ll often eat you as the main course first as a way to say thank you for spoiling him.

He would never admit it but loves when you’re bratty on occasion because it gives him an excuse to bend you over his knee. He loves when you talk back without a care like you don’t know he’ll quickly put you in place. Nanami loves when your bratty self teases him while he’s at work. Weather it being you sending him pictures, videos, or you showing up and getting down on your knees under his desk toying with his waistband.

Husband Nanami

He loves being a husband. He would get married quickly. When he finds the right woman he doesn’t see the need to wait. He’s a hopeless romantic. Just being married turns him on. Knowing you have his last name, knowing he gets to take care of you from now on, it drives his mind wild. Anytime you casually call him husband or remind him that you’re his wife his member perks up instantly.

Nanami dirty talk

“Shh shh look at me love I have to break you in or you’ll never be able to take me. Just let it sit here I won’t thrust alright.

“Shh I told you to let me love”

“You’re so beautiful when I’m inside of you love. I always love how you let me take my time with you.”

“I’m so glad i met you. I feel so spoiled having such a sexy wife. Maybe i should spoil you with my tongue?”

“Shh hold still my love. Relax.”

“I love you darling. That’s right. I love it when it’s all the way inside your pretty walls”

“Yes that’s it love, let it out. Dont you dare hold back those moans from your husband.”

Kinks

I see him as old fashioned. Not super kinky. If being a care giver (not age play just like being the protector and provider) and a top in bed is a kink you can count that. Also finishing inside of you. Not sure if thats a kink but he has to finish inside of your pussy. He loves the feeling it gives both of you. On the rare occasions you last long enough for him to finish twice he’s in heaven. He’s obsessed with you being filled with him. He pulls back up your panties after and lifts up slightly to push his cum further inside you he doesn’t want anything dripping out of you. He wants it to sit inside of you for the rest of the day/night so that every time you feel filled you remember the sweet love he made to you. I see him enjoying spanking. Bending you over his knee when you’ve been bratty. Or slapping your ass while he fucks you from behind. Eyes winding and mouth watering with he sees you grow wet/wetter from his slaps. Aside from that I see him liking to use his tie to occasionally tie your hands behind your back. Mainly when you’ve been bratty and he wants to fuck you rough. Aside from that at most he would probably use a vibrator on you if you wanted/needed but would prefer to use himself.

Name calling

I don’t think he would be into much name calling. I mean maybe he would be into daddy or sir? Though I see him being softer I could see him having a darker side to him and liking it. But I think he would probably prefer you to names like; love, my darling, husband, baby, both in an out of bed. He would like calling you the same names in an out of bed as well.

Nanami receiving

He loves getting his dick sucked. Groaning at the sound of you lubing him up for your hole. He loves guiding your movements with his hands tangled in your lucious hair. Though he loves this he doesn’t like cuming in your mouth he prefers to cum down your cunny instead. He has a lot of stamina and control so he can prevent himself from cumming down your throat waiting until he uses your other hole.

Thats about the most receiving he likes the rest of the time he’d rather do all the work. Even though technically while you’re sucking him he still doing all the work by being the one to guide all your movements and telling you what to do.

Nanami moaning?

He’ll give soft grunts and moans occasionally. He’ll softly moan and grunt or pant heavily when he finishes inside you. He’s more of a talker than a moaner In my opinion. He loves whispering sweet things into your ears and sushing you quite often. He loves the sound of your moans he doesn’t Sush as a sign to be quiet but more as a sign to “take it” and also out of habit. He’s so used to saying “shh” he sort of does it out of instinct instead of moaning.

All nanami stories by me will be under the hashtag NanamiAria

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storiesfromafan · 1 day

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Catching Feelings - Mattheo x Reader

A/N: not sure how I feel about this one, but I decided to post it anyways haha.

Prompt: “What part of I want you, and only you, do you not understand?” “And what part of why would you? Don’t you not understand?”

It had started out a casual hook up. Snog in a deserted hallway. Some over the clothing petting in the dungeons. Sneaking around in the Astronomy Tower for some no pants fun. It was great for you and Mattheo. The thrills and fun without the attachments a relationship entailed.

Well it had been great. Until Mattheo started to act weird, both with his words and wanting more time with you. Even when no pants time seemed to take a while to get too. He would make small talk, while you were the one to undo his tie and unbutton his shirt. And when he grasped your hands, halting what you were wanting to get too. That was it.

“Forget it" you sighed in frustration, grabbing your discarded cardigan before taking off back to the Slytherin common room.

He called out to stop you, tried to persuade you to stay. But it was no use, you were gone. And Mattheo sat there frustrated in more ways than one. For he physically wanted you, the evidence in his pants making it obvious. But he was also emotionally attached to you. Wanting to be around you, talk to you, hold you, kiss you. The guy was enthralled with you, bewitched mind and body. He wasn't quiet at soul, but part of him thought you were kindred spirits.

The following few days you avoided him. Keeping to yourself and always with a friend. And that was pissing Mattheo off. No to mention having this time to think clearly, Mattheo realised that what had been fun, looks to have turned into him liking you. And he now wasn't just mad with you, but also himself. For Mattheo Riddle doesn't catch feelings. He isn't meant to be a one girl kind of guy. Yet, he was willing to try it with you.

Getting a chance, though a sliver of one, you had just walked out of the female's lavatory. Grabbing your arm, Mattheo dragged you into a deserted hall, away from anyone or any noise. Once it sunk in to who had grabbed you, you yanked your arm from their hold.

“What the Hell Mattheo!?” You whispered yelled, glaring daggers at the male before you.

The male in questioned, did his best to look unfazed. Yet wondered if you had felt the sweat on his hands, or hear how his heart was racing. Could you see through his act? For he felt there were chips in the mask on his face.

“Why have you been avoiding me?” He asked with as flat a voice he could.

You looked at him for a moment, before sighing and crossing your arms over your chest. “Really? This is why you kidnapped me".

“I didn't kidnap you. I dragged you. You're free to leave anytime" he retorted with a soft glare.

“Fine" was all you said, moving to walk back the way you had come.

With two steps Mattheo moved to block you. Sputtering out a bunch of words that even he didn’t understand. But after he took a second to un-jumble his thoughts. Mattheo explained that he had only wanted to talk, and give him five minutes. You mulled it out before saying, alright I'll give you five minutes.

“Why have you been avoiding me (Y/N/N)? I waited in the Astronomy Tower the other night, but you didn't show up...” the last part came out a little whiny, which made Mattheo cringe.

Again you sighed. “I don't know...maybe I thought you'd want to talk" you replied dropping your bag on a bench, looking over the bust of some old witch.

“What's so wrong with talking...?” Mattheo asked quietly.

You shot him a are you serious look. “I thought this" – you gestured between you both – “was casual. In other words, no talking or attachment".

Mattheo straightened up, “well...ah, yeah?”

“Really?” You stared him down, not buying his words.

Mattheo sighed. He couldn't deny it further, could he?

“Look Mattheo, it's best we end it here. Cut our losses, yeah?” You finally said, voice void of emotion.

You grabbed your bag, slinging it over your shoulder. You walked past him and patted him on the back. Sharing some last parting words with the Slytherin male. When you were done, and no response from Mattheo, you began to head back to the populated halls.

As if being struck by lightening, Mattheo shot around, eyes wide watching your retreating form. “I like you!” He blurted out.

You paused, about to round the corner. You stood there for a minute, which had Mattheo thinking you may not have heard him. Finally you slowly turned around, eyes drawn together in confusion. Slowly you moved back to him, yet kept some distance between you both.

“Come again?” You finally croaked out.

Mattheo fidgeted from foot too foot, gaze looking anywhere but at you. He felt like a child that was in trouble. “I said...I like you...”

Slowly you nodded. “That's what I thought you said", you paused for a moment to think over your next lot of words carefully. “Look, Mattheo...I'm not the girl for you. I am uncaring, mouthy and too smart for the good of anyone”.

“That's fine with me" he replied quickly, staring you in the eyes.

You sighed. “Why would you? You can do better then me".

And with that you turned and began to walk off once more. Again Mattheo called out to you, sputtering out for you to stop or wait, and other things. But this time you didn't let up. Which lead to Mattheo being hot on your heels. Thankfully no students were around, but you could hear them in the distance.

“What part of I want you, and only you, do you not understand?” Mattheo called, anger rising when his attempts to get you to talk to him failed.

Finally you stopped, turning around to glare at the male. “And what part of why would you? Don’t you not understand?” was your retort.

The sound that came out of Mattheo's mouth was a cross between a cry of frustration and anguish of pain. Gripping his hair, he noted how you were so frustrating. Why wouldn’t you want him? Was there someone else you wanted to be with? If so, who, so he could take care of them. Was he ugly? Both physically and personality wise? His mind was swimming with questions.

“Mattheo...” you said softly, grabbing his attention. “This, you and me wouldn't work. And you know that. We're too different. Let's just...let it be".

When you got no response from Mattheo, you took that as your cue to leave. And off you went. While Mattheo stood there. Crushed, but determined. Determined to win you over. He believe part of you had to feel the same, or partially at least. Maybe you were scared, he liked to tell himself. Yes, that's what he was going with. And he would get you. No matter what or the cost.

#mattheo riddle x you #mattheo x reader #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x fem!reader

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keepthedelta · 13 hours

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okay it's kinda specific but is there any brocedes fact that is often overlooked but you think that is essential (or perhaps gives a new approach) to the lore?

that's such a good question. i have several, i hope you don't mind

the first one is the "he'll always be my best friend in my heart" quote. i've seen a lot of people use it as a very earnest declaration etc. (or if they believe in the nico is obsessed with lewis shit as a sign of that) but it was actually nico making a joke when he was doing commentary (on the italian comms i think). he was asked a question about lewis and jokingly/sarcastically said "in my heart he'll always be my best friend", and then immediately clarified that it was a joke (maybe recognising the narrative that would be spun around it). i know this seems kind of anti-brocedes but i do think it is essential to the lore that people recognise nico is not a weird as fandom likes to make out. he's absolutely weird, and he's definitely not normal about lewis, but he's not obsessive, and he feels comfortable enough making jokes about them. when you contrast that with lewis who either refuses to say nico's name in conversations where he is the most relevant person (the better teammates than max interview) or brings him up unnecessarily and then panics about it (grill the grid), i think it changes the dynamic of who is yearning, who is "over it", who is winning the idgaf war (it's neither of them but the difference is lewis lost by playing and nico is open enough about giving a fuck that he's not pretending to play). i am biased, but i also think that if you look back at them during their careers, lewis was always weirder about nico than nico was about him, although again, neither of them can truly be described as normal about each other.

then there's nico beating lewis in the 2004 f3 series that they shared. the narrative of brocedes describes it as lewis always beating nico, lewis being the one to win and nico always being slightly behind. and largely this is true. but in 2004 they were both competing in the 2004 f3 european series, albeit for different teams. neither of them won, but nico narrowly beat lewis. now they were in different teams and nico himself has said that some teams had better cars and equipment than others and that made a difference in the end result. but, nico still beat lewis. he had nearly double the number of dnfs/dns (6 to lewis's 3) and triple the number of wins (3 to lewis's 1), finishing highest of all the entrants who eventually made it to f1 (nico himself, lewis, adrian sutil and robert kubica). but nico himself barely seems to remember this. the narrative of lewis always being better, always beating him, is something he seems to have internalised, even though it isn't quite true, or at least, not as true as people make out.

my third bit of lore is that mclaren wanted to sign nico for the 2008 season. following the drama of fernando alonso (affectionate) and spygate, mclaren had an open seat and ron dennis wanted to fill it with nico. he even offered to buy out nico's contract from williams, but frank williams viewed nico as their best hope and refused. the driver that eventually ended up replacing fernando was heikki kovaleinen, nico's gp2 rival and 100% finnish to his 50% (yes nico's national identity crisis does come into this). lewis ended up winning the championship that year. heikki took only 1 victory, and while i think lewis would have beaten nico, i think nico wouldn't have been a doormat for him like heikki, and would have won at least a couple of races, which would have allowed felipe massa and ferrari to succeed. in many ways i think an argument can be made that nico not getting that mclaren seat really helped lewis to win his first championship, in the same way that if lewis hadn't gone to mercedes, nico would have won three, or if nico had stayed, there is a very real possibility that sebastian vettel would have won 2017. their presence and their success dooms the other, and it always has.

my final thing is that they are the most successful teammate pairing in f1 history. it kind of links back to the last one, where the fact that they are each as good as they are hurts the other one, unlike a lewis and valtteri line up or a michael and rubens line up where there is a distinct number one driver and the other one is to be sacrificed for him. but, even though both of those pairs were together for longer (nico and lewis aren't even in the top 5 longest teammate pairings), it takes more than a number 1 number 2 driver lineup to be the most successful. it takes nico and lewis, who are both number 1 drivers (don't come for me on this, nico would have flattened the likes of valtteri, rubens, or mark webber and you know it). although they were only teammates for four years (and one of those was a sebastian vettel/red bull dominance year) they achieved more pole positions, front row lockouts, wins, podiums, and 1-2 finishes than any other pairing in f1 history. they were utterly, utterly dominant, and that's why they hurt each other so badly. they were the dream team, the absolute best f1 could come up with, but they weren't just competing as a team, they were competing against each other, and only one of them could win

#delta help desk #brocedes

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fortheloveoffanfic · 3 days

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What if this is the last time I see you?

Hozier x fem!reader

Author's note: I'm sorry that I haven't finished one angsty story before forcing another onto you. But this one is shorter, I promise.

Summary: A chance run-in between exes at the farmers market leaves Andrew wondering if he’ll be okay never seeing Y/n again. Part 1 of 2.

Warnings: ANGST

At first, Andrew thinks his eyes must be playing tricks on him. But the longer he stares, the more it makes sense – and the more it makes sense, the more he is convinced. A pop-up farmers market, a fruit vendor selling an assortment of brightly coloured, sure-to-be sweet, freshly picked fruit. Or so he says.

She’s wearing a jacket that he swears he’s seen before, but it could’ve very well been on a mannequin in a store front and not in her closet – or on her body.

But he’s certain that its her. She’s carrying the basket in a way that’s all too familiar. She’s looking at strawberries and those are her favorite in the summer. It must be her.

So it must be divine intervention that he drove past the farmers market and decided to stop, because Andrew usually gets his produce at the grocery store, on the occasion that he’s home for long enough to do his own shopping.

Setting down the bright, glossy apple he’d been holding onto for a criminally long period, he inches towards her little section of the booth, debating what he should say. ‘Hi’ doesn’t feel like enough, but he fears that if he takes a chance with anything more he might stomp all over their impromptu reunion. He doesn’t want to be too much;

What a funny thought, he thinks. Considering the whole reason for their end was because he wasn’t enough.

Well, that might be a bit of an unfair distribution of blame. He’s pretty good at playing the victim where the demise of their relationship is concerned.

By the time he reaches her, Y/n has already placed a few strawberries into a plastic baggie and is looking for a few more to round off her purchase. And he settles on the very measly and shamefully uneventful; “hey.”

Surprised, Y/n jumps slightly and twists to face him, eyes going wide. “Andy, oh my gosh, hey.” She hesitates for a moment before reaching out for a hug that becomes quite a clumsy endeavor. They don’t seem to know each other as well as they used to; he can’t tell if she’s reaching for his neck or midsection, so their limbs get tangled in a strange manner. “Sorry,” she mumbles bashfully when the whole thing goes on for longer than any ‘I haven’t seen you in five years’ hug should take.

Shrugging off the unwarranted apology, Andrew stuffs his hands into the pockets of his dark jeans in an effort to keep himself from touching her again. “How have you been?” He tries to sound nonchalant, but his gaze drips to her left hand, looking for any sign of a ring. And when there isn’t one, he feels a knot in his chest loosen a little.

“I’ve been….” Y/n trails off, as if the question is the hardest one she’s been asked in a while. In some ways, she supposes it is. Is she supposed to lie to Andrew? Tell him she’s fine and happy and her life is going fantastically well when the truth is she hasn’t been able to scrub the memory of him from her mind and she still buys his favorite brand of tea because when it brews, the smell makes her house feel a little more like home. “I’ve been alright,” its something between the truth and any lie she can tell; she is alright. Alive and healthy, if only a little sad sometimes – but who isn’t, right? “You?”

Andrew fumbles with his words, he’s not sure why but the question feels almost taunting. Why would she throw that back to him? Why wouldn’t she just assume that she’s stowed the best of him into a box and taken it along with her? Everyone else sees it, they tell him he hasn’t looked the same since she left, that he talks differently and he’s truly a little depressing to be around sometimes. “I’m…..okay.” Just okay – not good, not bad, but somewhere in limbo, surviving.

At his response, Y/n nods absently. God, he wishes he knew what that meant. He wishes he still knew her well enough to know what anything she does means. There used to be things that only he understood about Y/n. There’s a version of her in his mind that still whispers in the dark, even if they’re the only people in the room, and ensures all the cutlery in the drawer is packed in the same direction. There’s a version of her that might have tilted her head at his response, and told him that she knows that ‘okay’ is never just ‘okay.’

But this is someone else, someone he doesn’t know. But he loves her anyway.

He’ll love every version of her. But at least he’s only lost one.

“You’re probably the last person I’d expect to run into, here especially,” but maybe she doesn’t really know him that well anymore. Maybe he goes to the farmer’s market every Sunday now and they’ve just been missing each other.

Maybe he goes with his girlfriend - a wife even -and right now she's at another vendor. She's going to be back soon. And she'll be beautiful and Y/n will think; no wonder he let me go so easily, because he knew there was better was out there.

Shaking off the unsettling thought, Y/n adds, “you used to get everything at the grocery store.”

“You used to grow everything yourself,” he notes, not maliciously though. It's really just an innocent observation; he wonders why she stopped.

“I guess…..we’ve changed,” Y/n muses, and a little sliver of her wonders if they’ve changed enough to make it work for a second time around.

“Not too much, I hope,” but what he really means to say is; ‘I hope we’re still the kind of people that can love each other.’ “Ehm,” he clears his throat softly, and finally gathers the courage to ask what he’d been thinking about since he discreetly examined her finger, “seeing anyone?”

What a question! Simultaneously, it makes her want to laugh and cry. “Not right now, no.” Of course, she’s seen other people since their break-up, but nothing ever sticks, and that might be because every man is now measured to Andrew; does it taste the same when they kiss her? Hold her hand the way he used to? Do they tell the same sort of jokes or thread their fingers through her hair before falling asleep? “What about you?”

Andrew waves his hand dismissively, “no one serious,” there isn't really anyone at all, but he doesn’t want to seem like he’s a complete wreck and one more white lie can’t hurt.

“Good,” the word slips out almost without thought, and Y/n quickly shakes her head when Andrew arches a brow. He isn't supposed to know that she's relieved; that he just quashed one of her biggest fears - that there's another woman that knows him as well as she does, but couldn't love him half as much, “well....not good. Just you know….you’re good at being on your own,” he was pretty damn good on his own even when they lived in the same house, “so I’m sure you’re doing good,” god, she wishes she had stopped talking three minutes ago.

Hesitating, he bites his tongue as the urge to tell her that he's not okay and it's all her fault wells up. Didn’t she see the lie in his eyes when he said he was okay? Is he that much of a stranger to her now?

Again, Andrew shrugs halfheartedly, “I’ve been okay,” he repeats before pressing his lips into a thin line. He doesn’t trust himself to add anything more, because then he’ll say he still misses her and its been far too long for him to still be mourning an empty side of the bed and the sound of her laughter in the drawing room.

He shouldn’t still go into his home studio and still expect her to come trailing after him, armed with a book with the intention of curling up on the sofa that gets just the right amount of noon sun. He shouldn't miss the way she looks while humming along softly to what he's working on, blanket draped on her folded legs, hazy light washing her face - he shouldn’t have left her blanket there after all this time.

He shouldn’t even be thinking about it, because the more he does, the more he wants to tell her. Beg Y/n to come back – to take him back because he’s really only half himself without her.

“I should let you –”

“You probably have –”

“Sorry.” Another clumsy, awkward apology, this one in aching unison. There’s silence for a while, and Y/n tugs her lower lip between her teeth. In a way, it feels like they’ve been standing there for too long, at least, like this. Not knowing what to say to each other, with the nails of her free hand digging into her palm so she doesn’t reach out to touch his arm. It shouldn’t be like this, she never wanted them to come to this; reduced to two awfully familiar strangers. “I should um….I have to….go…” She goes to say home, but the word doesn’t come, “I gotta go, Andrew.”

Swallowing the lump that’s been caught in his throat since he first saw fifteen minutes earlier, Andrew nods stiffly. “Of course,” he breathes. The last thing he wants is for her to leave, but he doesn’t really have any right to keep her. “I’ll leave you to it.” They both nod that time, shy and unsure but no one leaves. Not immediately. His eyes stay matching hers, and there’s a hundred things weighing down the tip of his tongue, but clinging to it like molten sugar.

I'm sorry I let you walk out, I'm sorry about everything. I still keep your ring in my nightstand, just in case. My mom still asks about you. I should've been better, let you in and I know that now. I'd do it now. I'm actually horrible on my own now, because you've ruined me in the best way - and the worst. But he doesn't say any of it; the moment is long gone and his pride does a pretty good job at keeping him quiet.

A shuddered breath escapes her lips upon realizing that she actually hasn’t moved an inch; Y/n doesn’t think she can be the one to bring herself to leave this time. She doesn't want to turn her back to him again. So she lingers, and she swears roots are sprouting from the soles of her feet, keeping her in place, staring into his eyes because lost in them is suddenly the only place she wants to be.

“I should go,” he eventually determines, glancing away. Though, the minute he says it, Andrew is lashed with immediate regret; he does not want to go. He doesn’t want to leave, but he suspects that this time its entirely on him to turn around and walk away.

“Right, right,” Y/n blinks quickly, then, just as he’s about to turn, she interjects, if only for the purpose of holding him there a little longer, “it was really nice seeing you.”

He nods, but doesn’t say anything, not right then. Though, when he turns away and starts retreating to the other end of the small tent, squinting his eyes at the midday sun, catching him square in the face, he pauses. Throwing a cautious backwards glance her way, he finds that Y/n has returned to picking out strawberries and on a whim, Andrew finally allows himself a singular moment of weakness – perhaps in a way of giving her what she’s wanted since their very last fight. “I’ve missed you,” he utters.

Y/n’s head snaps up just as she hands the bag over to the vendor for weighting, “what?” Her brows are furrowed and her lips are slightly agape.

Hating the sudden vulnerability that comes with those three little words, he shakes his head, “nothing. I’ll see you around,” he spares her a short wave, and she does the same.

After that, not a single word is traded between them again; Y/n pays, plops the bag into her basket, and walks off, and he watches her go. There’s a sinking feeling in his chest as she weaves her way through the busy market, and there’s a strange sort of finality in the moment where the last inkling of her green jacket disappears.

What if he never sees her again? What if that moment, in that tent, surrounded by fruits honeyed by summer’s warmth and the bitter heartache of something unfinished, constitutes the last fifteen minutes they will ever share?

What if she’s gone from his life forever and he’s damned to an eternity spent looking at her pictures and never hearing her voice again? Wondering what she’s doing and if she’s finally moved on from him?

Can he survive it? Truly? Without feeling like a shell just being shuffled around by the wind?

Returning to the assortment of ruby-toned apples, he struggles to escape the onslaught in his mind and Andrew finds himself unable to choose any, not even one, so he goes with strawberries instead.

To be continued.....

#hozier #hozier x reader #hozier x you #hozier x y/n #andrew hozier byrne #hozier fanfiction #the hoziest #what if this is the last time I see you?

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mythosidhesdollhouse · 21 hours

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Shibajuku Girls: The Return?

Soooooooooo I've been debating whether to post about this at all because I doubt anyone will find it very interesting, but doll gossip is thin on the ground these days and I'm not quite ready to go to bed yet, so eff it let's go--

Alright so, those of you who follow these things may remember back during this year's Toy Fair it was announced that for some inexplicable reason the Shibajuku Girls doll line was planning a comeback. For reference: These 13" dolls from the Australian toy company Hunter Products originally turned up on shelves in the US back in the mid-2010's, to a fairly lackluster reception. Between their unusually high price point ($30-$35, a good deal above the average for fashion dolls at the time) and the fact that they are a rather blatant knock-off of Pullips, no one seemed to be that into them. In a way with their hair play gimmick (a lot of charms and hair clips) meant to interest children in Japanese street fashion I suppose one could see them as a precursor of the Decora Girlz, albeit with far lazier and less successful execution. I did end up buying one--Yoko--for the big head collection, and she's...fine, if forgettable. I like having her in the mix for variety, but I could never quite work up the enthusiasm to get another. The demise of ToysRUs around the time of their release probably didn't help matters any, as it was one of the few places that stocked them. These dolls lingered on the shelves of my local Target seemingly forever, before quietly disappearing to absolutely no fanfare.

But to bring it back to Toy Fair 2024--

For reasons that NO ONE I've heard speak on the subject can quite understand, seemingly out of nowhere Hunter Toys showed up at Toy Fair this year with a display of older dolls from the first two waves of Shibajuku, plus a wall of these mock-ups for a projected third series of anime-inspired characters. If you look closely at the 'prototype photos' in the boxes--not actual dolls--they appear to literally just be restyled Pullips. A lot of people (myself included) speculated that they may have put the money into creating a new head sculpt that more closely replicated the doll this line was always made to emulate, and the lack of actual dolls in boxes was a sign that this Shibajuku 2.0 head had yet to go into production in time for the event.

Turns out--no. That's not what they did at all. So--

A few days ago through a series of random browsing encounters I stumbled across listings for two of the five proposed 'Shibajuku Anime' dolls on Walmart's website. They are showing up as out of stock, but if you put them on your wishlist you can add them to your cart from there (though not check out), which is a pretty sure indication that they're expected in stock online and in stores soon.

So...what to say about these. First of all they quite obviously have the same old Shibajuku face. The fashions have considerably less detail than the prototype photos, which in itself I'd be willing to forgive for reasons I'll get to in a minute, but the main thing that overwhelmingly stands out to me here is that Kiki, one of the two characters shown with a darker complexion in the mock-ups, has gone from having tan skin and white hair to pale skin and black hair. Which, yeah no fuck that. No way of knowing if this was the brand's decision or a specific request from Walmart, but whichever way you slice it, it sucks. Lack of diversity was a huge issue with the first iteration of this line, and after the promise of a course correct it looks like we're back to more of the same. I will definitely be bending a critical eye on them to see if the other dark-skinned character, Sakura, receives a similar whitewashing :/

Now, with that rant out of my system, is there anything good to say? Well, the price, for one. These are set to retail for $19.98, which is significantly below what they sold for originally. No doubt the lower quality fashions and lack of accessories have a lot to do with it, but on the whole I'd say it's a plus. Also...as much as as I would have loved to see the ensuing drama if they had had the audacity to churn out a more blatant Pullip clone, for continuity's sake if nothing else I'm glad they stuck with the old face. She's a weird little bird and despite it all she deserves her place in the wider family of Big Head dolls, however derivative that might be (I mean, if anything Pullip needs MORE clones, Blythe has such a start on her in that arena....).

And finally (FINALLY) to wrap things up--will I be buying one? Perhaps surprisingly--yes! I plan to order Akira when she becomes available to ship. I think she's decently cute--you all know my bias for green hair--and I have a purely academic curiosity to compare her to my 'classic' Shibajuku. Plus, despite all my dismissive snark, I would actually like to see this relaunch be successful. I'm always in favor of diversity in the doll market, and this particular type of doll has been sadly under-represented of late. There is plenty room on the shelves for more big head girlies! MGA is daily signing that real estate away at an increasingly rapid pace XD My hope is that they do well enough to warrant the release of the other three dolls from the proposed new line-up, and that maybe--MAYBE--if the Dolly Gods are kind we will see Sakura with her original dark skin tone, as intended.

Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeee ok that's enough sleep-procrastinating for one night, I'm done. If anyone else cares about this at all I'm sincerely curious to hear your thoughts.

#shibajuku girls #dolls #new doll news #if we're revisiting this era I dearly wish Jakks would bring back Juku Couture #but that's a whole other can of worms for another post #long post #ramblings

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ghostradiodylan · 2 days

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Probably a lukewarm take, but other than the (lack of an) ending, the Laura and Ryan scenes are some of the worst written and conceived parts of The Quarry.

And this is completely separate from whether Ryan is interested in Dylan (he is, but that's another post and not important to this rant) or Kaitlyn; even if Ryan had no other potential relationships in the game, even if Laura wasn't practically married to Max, wearing his ring around her neck the entire time they're talking, it still would feel flat to me because nothing about it is earned.

Laura is on a killing spree with the single-minded goal of saving Max. She genuinely believes the only way to do that is to kill Chris Hackett. Even if you've made her argue with Max to the extent that they can, they're still a strong unit when she goes out to solve this werewolf thing once and for all. Even if you don't believe in love think their relationship would survive all this trauma, she deeply believes she owes it to him to rescue him, that is her entire guiding ethos during the game.

Ryan is going with her to try to keep that from happening because Chris has been his friend and mentor for years. We know Ryan has an absent mother, unmentioned father, and a potentially turbulent family life, and he's been coming to HQSC for so long that it feels like home to him, that Chris and his kids feel like family. Laura has already killed Kaylee. Even if Ryan completely bought into the werewolf thing by now, that would be a tough pill for him to swallow, given his reaction to her death.

Then, they fall in the titular Quarry and suddenly have the option to express a completely unearned sort of camaraderie with each other. Why is Laura asking Ryan about his love life in the first place? The question about him being single makes sense as a dig, but it doesn't make any sense for her to ask about him being a 'brooding and mysterious loner' because... she hasn't actually seen him do anything brooding or mysterious? How did she even get that impression? If Laura's got some kind of borderline psychic intuition then this is really the worst possible use of that ability--she should have foreseen her need to go to that motel and stay the fuck out of locked storm shelters instead.

It doesn't make a lick of sense for her to say that Kaitlyn looks up to him either. She hasn't seen that. Hell, we as players haven't even seen that! Kaitlyn seems generally tolerant of but unimpressed by Ryan. She has the option to be impatient with him multiple times and even get the chyron that she's ‘losing respect’ for him if he suggests she take the gun and go after Nick instead. This seems like an objectively good idea, since she's a much better shot than Ryan, a fact which the game keeps telling us despite refusing to give her a gun until the last possible second, though maybe the concern is that she'd have to drag Nick back to the campfire herself. (Honestly, I think Kaitlyn could do it, I think she's like a mighty ant who can lift many times her own weight, but that's not what this post is about.)

Ryan, for his part, shouldn't really be willing to talk about any of this with Laura either. He canonically doesn't even want to talk to his coworkers about his animation school decision (in the office scene with Dylan and at the campfire with Emma if you choose truth like a lunatic) and he's known them for at least two months, if not for years attending the same camp. But he met Laura a few hours ago and is suddenly willing to spill his guts about who he does or doesn't have a crush on and who does/doesn't have 'the hots' for him, despite the only experience they have together being her leaving his friend of several years dead facedown in a pool and expressing a strong desire to kill his father figure? I simply do not buy it.

I'm not sure if this was supposed to go along with the relationship system that they scrapped or what (there's not a single shred of Ryan and Laura stuff in the datamine that I've been able to find), but all it really serves to do is muddy the waters by trying to force some level of intimacy on Ryan and Laura before the big confrontation at the Hackett House. But that confrontation itself should have been the thing that forged that intimacy between them and allowed them to go on to fight Silas together.

Overall, I think it's a major sign that the back third of the game got a very rushed and, frankly, bad chop job (which we know is true) and that they struggled to tie the resulting loose threads off in a way that made any kind of narrative sense. It's a shame, because the writing in The Quarry is actually way better than most people give it credit for, it just wasn't allowed to pay off in a lot of ways that clearly were intended.

#the quarry #bunny rants #bunny rants about the quarry #I can see that Laura is an objectively good character but this makes me not fond of her #In the same way it seems to make a lot of people not fond of Ryan but I could never not be fond of Ryan #Laura & Ryan #ryan erzahler #laura kearney #imagine if the quarry was an actually finished game #sigh

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sepherinaspoppies · 23 hours

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Temporary Fix- Martin x Reader

summary: Martin is desperate to feel something. Anything. Rest? Relief? Sleep? Pleasure? Then he meets you, who can assure him that he will feel all of what he seeks.

warnings: drug use, hair pulling, handjob, ball play?, face riding, sub martin, dom reader, clit piercing stimulation, praise, orgasm denial, unprotected p in v, (please don’t be silly wrap that willy), surprise at the end!

wc: 4,675

click here to be added to my general taglist

divider by @saradika-graphics

masterlist

notes: im so sorry this took a long ass time, family problems and I just moved back to Mexico so ive been busy lol.

For weeks, perhaps months, his body was aching. Tension had built up around his lower back, feeling like pins and needles stabbing the muscles of his back. Soon after, those aches and pains shifted over to his chest, and it felt like a heavy weight that couldn’t be shaken away, making it difficult for him to breathe.

Especially late at night.

Which prompted him to consume one of his mum’s low dosage of Ibuprofen. While the effects of the pill worked, it only lasted about an hour or two the most. Eventually his mum caught on the missing pills, but luckily his mum believed the little white lie he told, excusing it as his sister’s behavior.

With nothing to dull the never-ending sensation, he needed desperately to find relief elsewhere.

And that’s how he met you.

Out of all the places in town, he’d never assumed to meet a drug dealer in an open field, sitting by the train tracks, staring into the distance, with a cigarette in one hand and a lollipop in the other.

“I have hypoglycemia.” You informed as you turned around.

It is then when he took in the rest of your appearance. Your eyes were dark, smudged by black eyeliner and eyeshadow. Silver glitter cascading down your cheeks, giving the illusion of tears. On top of your left brow, two little studs of a piercing decorated your skin. And below that piercing were two other piercings, a septum and a lip ring.

He tried to picture you without the dark makeup and piercings, somehow he couldn’t. It suited you.

You wore a t-shirt of one of his favorite bands, Black Sabbath. Paired up with a black tennis skirt and fishnets that accentuated the length of your legs. Truly, you were beautiful.

“What’s that?” He asked you, off topic, taking a few steps towards you.

You exhaled a cloud of smoke, then dragged your tongue around the sweet. “Low blood sugar. When my sugar levels drop below a certain level, I faint.” He nods his head, noticing another silver piercing on the tip of your tongue.

Hot.

He wondered what other piercings you hid underneath your clothes, he had a feeling the facial piercings were not the only piercings you had.

His ocean blue eyes continued to stare at you, assessing if you were who his mate had referred him to. “You’re Tommy?” He asked.

You threw your head back in a laugh. “No, that’s my brother’s name. I strictly use it for business.” You kicked the grass that stuck to your boots as you stood up, getting ready for the usual business exchange. “Most people don’t buy drugs from girls.” Though, you didn’t know why. You were great at not getting caught. No one had suspected a thing when you had done a deal next to a policeman.

“Would you have come if you knew I was a girl?” You questioned.

“Fair point.” His lips pulled into a faint smirk. “So, what’s your name?”

You placed your cherry flavored lollipop back into your mouth, hiding the amusement from his view. There was no denying that the guy in front of you was attractive. Judging by his looks alone, he fit right into the description of guys whom you considered your type.

His long black hair reminded you of Eric Draven, from the Crow. He was tall and lean, similar to the fictional character you had posters on your bedroom walls. But it was his eyes that pulled you in. Which was a shame, you strictly forbade yourself to not date any of your clients. If you’d call them that.

The last time you did, he left you panicked and traumatized. You have learned your lesson since then.

“Will, said you need some sedatives. I have some bars; aka Xanax.” You shake the translucent orange bottle of white bars from your pocket. “They’re legit. They work. But it’ll cost you two hundred quid.”

His eyes almost bulged out of their sockets at the said price. He carried only a hundred in his wallet and a fifty that his mum gave him for groceries.

Fuck!

His reaction caused you to narrow your eyes, “Fine, one-eighty quid.” You negotiated, putting on your best serious and business face.

That, however, doesn’t deter him. “One-twenty.”

You scoff loudly. You were generous by giving him a twenty percent discount, and he wants more?

The nerve of this guy!

“One-sixty.” You counteroffer.

“One-fifty.”

“Done.” You reply as you both are quick to exchange goods. Immediately so, you begin to count the money in case of any scams the dark brunette might throw your way. After all, you barely met the guy.

“Is this…chocolate?” Martin asked, a little taken back that you managed to slip a small Butterfingers next to the translucent bottle.

Is it normal for drug dealers to provide chocolate to their clients?

He wouldn’t know. Though, the last time Martin bought drugs was with one of his mates, behind a very smelly bin next to a seafood restaurant. Not once did that sketchy, and yet very creepy, dealer gave them a sweet after their transaction.

He hears you chuckle, a playful look on your pretty face. “I carry candy with me wherever I go. That’s for you. You look like you could use it.”

“What if you faint?” He stops before you have the chance to walk away.

“Don't worry, I won’t.” You smile, using the heart shaped lollipop to wave him goodbye.

His eyes watch you walk away, and his breath hitches when a small breeze lifts the back of your skirt, giving him a delicious eyeful of what was underneath.

As soon as his bedroom door closes, Martin begins to inspect the bottle you’d given him. He wondered how many of the little bars he could take. He knew, of course, not the whole thing. His mum would scream at his overdosed corpse and probably descend into madness.

So it was safe to say, he only took one.

It dissolved on his tongue almost instantly, and about an hour later or so the effects started to kick in.

The waves of anxiety and the aches and pains Martin usually got during this hour never came. He felt at peace; calm as he stared into the silver glow of moonlight out of his window.

A heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulders and for the first time in months Martin finally fell asleep quite comfortably.

This exchange between you and Martin went on for about two more months, meeting at the field exchanging goods and Martin usually attempting to ask you out, only for you to deny him every time.

Eventually, Martin got the hint and no longer hit on you, much to your disappointment. Not only that, you started seeing him less and less as he only met you once every two weeks. Regularly seeing you every week.

Maybe you were a little harsh for not giving him a chance.

But you reckon that wasn’t the case as he would’ve completely cut ties with you.

There must have been something else on his mind or perhaps his work life got the best of him; which was good.

You wished nothing but the best.

After contemplating on whether to call or not call Martin, you decided to instead shoot a message to your shared friend, Will. He informed you that he hadn’t seen him around or heard from him in some days. Which was odd since they were best mates, often talking about random shit (including you but Will would never tell you).

Will you make sure he’s alright? You texted.

Can’t. I’m staying over at my girlfriend’s. But since you care about your best customer, go ahead and pay him a visit ;)

You scoff, rolling your eyes as you could hear Will’s tantalizing voice inside your head.

Stupid wanker. You thought as you typed Martin’s address on your phone.

It wasn’t that far from your apartment, only a couple of streets over that was doable by walking.

Though, Will mentioned for you to sneak through the upstair’s window as he lived with his parents. You were thankful you wore good shoes fit for the climb but not a good enough outfit as you reckon anyone passing by would get an eyeful of your ass.

Martin laid on his bed, playing with what looked to be a miniature helicopter. Although you couldn’t hear what he was saying you still found the act a little funny.

“Martin!” You knocked through the window, not too loud and just for him to hear. You watch as he jolts a little, his face showing a mixture of fear and confusion once his eyes settle on you.

Instantly, he sets his toy aside and runs to you, opening the window and helping you up. You mutter a breathless ‘thanks’ which makes Martin nod. “What are you doing here?” He asks, a bit surprised by your random presence in his room.

“Oh, I- wait, what happened to your face?!” You exclaimed, panic rooting deep in your stomach. Martin turned his head away but you weren’t having that. You softly placed your hands to the sides of his cheeks, examining the markings on his face.

The bruises on his nose and lip were fresh, probably from a few hours or so ago.

“It’s nothing, really.” Martin murmured, attempting yet again to push your grasp. “It doesn’t look like it!” You say, keeping a firm hold on both sides of his cheeks. If you weren’t so concerned about the cuts and bruises, you would’ve taken your time in appreciating how soft and smooth his cheeks were.

“Why do you care?” He murmured very quietly under his breath as his eyes no longer met yours.

It was a good question, why did you care? You weren’t this… caring for your other clients. You had your regulars, most of them coming and going. Not once did you bother to think about them, caring only for the cash that kept you well-fed and alive.

You knew something about Martin was different from the others. Yet, you had a hard time deciphering the answer to his question.

Why did you care?

“I don’t know. I just know I do.” You sighed, taking a seat right next to him. A long comfortable silence followed between you two, and you took your time to inspect the details around the perimeter of his bedroom.

A few posters were scattered on his walls, some of them were a few bands such as Nirvana, The Smiths, and one of your personal favorites: Oasis. The other posters seemed to be art pieces done by himself as the various kinds of paint brushes and the smeared paint on the surface of his desk proved it.

He was an artist.

Far left towards a desk sat a large terrarium made for a reptile that you couldn’t see. You wanted to giggle at the miniature couch and bed Martin made for the little fellow, it was cute and you could tell how much he cared about his pet.

“Why did you come?” Martin finally spoke, although faint.

“Honestly?” You clear your throat as you shift your feet awkwardly, “I hadn’t seen you in a while; I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Not because of the drugs?” He asks.

You tried to conceal a smile at the mirthful tone of his voice. “No…”

His eyes narrow at you and you swore you saw a hint of something playful in his features before he shifted his body to face you. “You’re a terrible liar.”

“Fine. Yes, also because of the drugs but mostly because… I- I cared for your well being.”

Oh God.

Heat expands around Martin’s face, and he was glad that there was barely any light for you to see. “I’m sort of alright,” he shrugs. Martin has been better, definitely when the drugs did their job.

Your head tilts to the side at the ‘sort of’. “Sort of? Are you not taking them anymore?” Martin shakes his head.

“I don’t like ‘em anymore. Couldn’t feel anything. Nothing.” Martin did not understand why. The first couple of weeks went fine without any trouble or problems. He had become more productive than he’d ever been, from helping his mum and his little sister with chores and homework to picking up extra shifts (which was totally unlike him).

Then about two weeks ago, everything changed. Martin walked to a new coffee shop when someone— his ex-girlfriend of two years— had accidentally bumped into him as she walked out, spilling hot coffee on his chest and hands.

Normally, one would wince and possibly shriek at the burning sensation, but not him. He smiled at Lydia as she stammered apologies, not feeling the harsh burns on his skin.

As an apology, Lydia had agreed to go out for dinner at their favorite restaurant when they were still together.

They had a good time, catching up about their work, family, and friends. Martin learned new things about her he didn’t even know when they dated. After a few pints and cigarettes, Lydia brought him over to her apartment, where they both stripped each other’s clothes off instantly.

But along the good, comes bad.

Martin had her on all fours, her cunt glistening with so much of her arousal, needy and ready for him. To his horror, Martin’s dick couldn’t seem to get hard. No matter how many times he fisted himself, his dick was unresponsive.

Discomfited, Martin practically ran out without an explanation. Dick move, he knows.

Since then, Martin figured the drug was the cause for his insensitivity. So he stopped altogether.

“Glad to know I wasn’t the only one,” you slump down Martin’s bed once he finishes explaining. Martin furrows his brows in confusion but soon begins to puzzle the pieces. “So those were your pills?” He recalled that moment when he saw faint letters of a name, your name, printed on the bottle. It was a prescription. Your prescription.

“Yea, it was to help with my panic attacks,” you explain. Though, carefully not to give too much of your personal information. “While it helped, it also made me insensitive.” At that, Martin sat up straighter attentively listening to you.

“That’s why I got all these tattoos and piercings, I hoped I could feel the pain of the needle as it went right in.” You could still recall the piercer’s shocked expression when you exhibited no look of pain. You confirmed that you weren’t intoxicated and signed a waiver that everyone signs. Yet the piercer had counted to three with every piercing, and not once did you flinch.

Martin glanced up at the piercings on your face, “Did you?” He asked. You shook your head, moving your arms around, to show Martin the many tattoos. He thought of you brave for not even flinching at something so painful. As much as he appreciated tattoos, he would never get one on himself. The thought of needles made Martin a bit light headed.

“Are these the only tattoos you have?”

“No, I have more.” If your parents were still alive, they’d go crazy at the amount of tattoos you had.

“May I see?”

Your other tattoos and piercings were located in a more private area on your body, and you would’ve said no. But it was the ‘may I’ that made you agree.

Your fingers lifted the hem of your oversized t-shirt, neatly placing it next to you on the bed. You move your hair to the side, granting him more access and the art that took hours to create on your body.

Martin sat amazed, especially at one tattoo in particular. A long branch of wild flowers started between your clothed breasts, going down your hip and finally wrapping around your thigh. It was beautiful that he did not notice the belly button piercing just sitting below it.

The art piece was precise, fully detailed as possible that Martin knew it must've taken you multiple sessions to finish.

Inadvertently, Martin’s fingers start to trace one of the flowers, following the pattern down and down causing you to hitch your breath at the near proximity of where they were going.

“Beautiful,” Martin compliments under his breath. Your skin was so soft that he had no desire to take his hands away.

And you didn’t want him to either. You wanted Martin to continue exploring every inch of your body for his touch was feather-like and gentle, sparking something within you.

Martin looks at you and your eyes are warm and relaxed. His fingers suddenly halt at your inner thigh, right where the branch ends. “You want me to keep going?” He whispers, moving closer towards you, his hands ready to remove the unnecessary clothing until you said that one word of consent.

You licked your lips, feeling the heat from his body coming closer and forward. His lips were only a breath away from yours, awaiting an answer from you.

“Yes,” you whispered back, your head tilting upwards as you brushed your lips with his. The hand that he used earlier, grabbed the back of your neck, pulling you swiftly to close the small gap.

Your lips were just as he imagined them to be, perhaps even better as he pulled you by your underarms and sat you right on his lap, where you gasped at the hardness of his length pressing against your abdomen, feeling every solid inch of himself.

And there was plenty of him.

You continued to chase his lips, never once pausing for required air. The kiss was full of want and need that made you feel like a puddle on his arms. Shivers went down Martin’s back at the cooling sensation of your tongue piercing colliding with his own. Only then, he began to imagine what that piercing would feel like on his cock, resting right there on the bulbous tip where you would swallow every single drop of his come.

In his desperation, Martin’s hands went to unclasp your bra, only for you to tut at him, placing his hands on back on his sides. “No touching, I call the shots here.” You scolded him as if he were a little boy.

Martin’s jaw dropped at your dominant tone, not that he was complaining.

“Do you wanna feel with me?” You whispered, trailing your hands up and down his chest, now that you got rid of his shirt, admiring the light brown sprinkles of hair. His pectoral muscles flexing against your delicate touch.

He nodded vehemently— desperately, blue eyes staring at your cherry pink lips. “I wanna feel everything with you.” It was a want and a need right now.

“Take off your shorts,” he did as you commanded and you swore your insides clenched at the mouth watering view, “d-do not move or come until I tell you to. Understand?” You asked, keeping composure.

You sat behind him immediately after he said yes. A part of Martin was a bit confused on what you had planned for him but another part of him found the mystery of it all quite exciting. And he was right, his hips jolted forward as soon as your hand wrapped around the base of his cock, squeezing so wonderfully.

Martin moaned as you gave open mouthed kisses all around his neck before your teeth grazed around the sensitive skin, marking what was yours. You did the same to the other side until you were satisfied and skin covered with love bites you wanted everyone to see outside his bedroom walls.

With the same hand, you slowly began to stroke his cock, pulling the foreskin up and down, your thumb resting at his baby pink tip, admiring the way it twitched with more of his arousal. Your other hand, reached to cup his balls, giving them a good squeeze. Combined, made Martin see stars.

“Oh…fuck,” he stuttered, feeling his end approaching.

You smirked, stroking his pretty cock faster. “If you come, I’ll punish you. And you won’t like it when I do, baby. I won’t show you any mercy.” The last guy you punished ended up passing out within seconds, and as much as you wanted to punish Martin, you needed him. Needed his cock inside you.

A part of him was intrigued at what you’d do, but Martin chose not to awaken that side of you. He wanted to be good so that he’d earn his reward. His release.

You watched as Martin kept control of his breathing, his hands fisting the sheets impossibly tight. Meanwhile you found yourself growing wetter and wetter at the little whines he let out.

This went about a few more minutes until Martin ran out of things to think about to not come. From his grandmother to his best mate, Will. While it worked, the need to release screamed louder with each fast stroke.

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck! Please, I can't-can't hold it much longer!" Martin whined, as heat settled in his gut with each involuntary thrust up.

You grabbed his jaw to face you, noticing a few tears streaming down his flushed cheeks. You slowly swirled your thumb at the wet slit, causing Martin to sob loudly. “Aw, you wanna come?” You cooed, biting his earlobe not too harshly.

“Yes! Yes! Please! I beg you, I- I- need it!” Any more of your teasing, Martin was sure his dick would fall right off. “Please!” He begged yet again, his pretty blue eyes full of want and need.

When you finally were going to grant his release, he did the unexpected and touched you. Using your hand to stroke his cock at a much faster pace. Then Martin released a long moan of your name as ropes of his come gushed on his lower belly and your hand.

Finally, he came.

Just as he relaxed in your arms, he sat back up frozen in fear over what he had done.

“Did I say you could come?” You questioned, with an angry and dangerous tone. “I’m sorry–” Martin tried to apologize, holding your hand to prevent you from leaving. But you weren’t having it. Those sweet puppy eyes wouldn’t work on you anymore.

“Only good boys deserve to come. And since you were bad, you don’t get to come anymore–”

“But I am your good boy. I won’t do it again, I promise.” The dark haired brunette pleaded, caressing his head with your hand. “Please, I'll be so good to you.”

“Then prove to me how much of a good boy you really are, Martin.” His hands automatically shift you down the bed, ripping your fishnets right down the center of where he truly wanted to show you how good he was.

“No, I wanna sit on your face.” You briefly told him and Martin’s eyes widened with interest.

“Can you keep this on?” Martin pointed at your fishnets.

You agreed.

With great enthusiasm, Martin lays on the bed, ready to use his tongue on you. He hoped he wouldn’t disappoint you, never once did he receive a complaint about his head game. However, in those experiences he was the one in charge. Now, Martin was about to unlock a new experience he was set on trying for years.

After you rid yourself of your bra, you hurriedly crawled your way to Martin’s face, setting your knees on both sides of his face. Martin’s eyes darkened, not only at your heart shaped nipple piercings on both of your breasts, but the piercing over the small hood on top of your sex.

A clit piercing.

“Be a good boy,” you instructed before you lowered yourself on his mouth. Your hands gripped the metal bed frame for leverage as you slowly grind your cunt, back and forth.

Martin hummed, in total bliss at the taste of your sweet slick that was coating his face. You moan loudly as he moves his nose against your piercing, sending shocks of pleasure to your spine. His tongue feasts on you, licking the seam of your folds with each of your grinds.

You press your core closer to his face, unconcerned if Martin could breathe; not that he minded. It was a good way to die, though. And your jaw drops open with multiple breathless moans, once his tongue made its way inside your entrance, licking inside your quivering walls.

Martin’s eyes stared at you as you were lost in complete pleasure, you truly looked devine sitting on his face. He could come on just this alone, but he didn’t want to risk another punishment from you. Martin was set on being your good boy, so for now he had to follow your instructions.

“Yes, that’s it!” You rip one of your hands from the headboard and dig them into his hair, guiding him where you want him, as you are getting closer to that cliff of euphoria. Martin happily goes where you want him.

When you guide his head towards your bud, Martin moves his nose at a much faster speed. When you guide his head lower, Martin sucks and licks at your entrance vigorously.

“S-so good!” You praise and it took everything in Martin to not come.

Martin moans. The vibrations alone cause your thighs to shake and release multiple broken moans as that tight coil at the pit of your stomach finally snapped, triggering your release.

“Oh fuck, Martin!” You shout, pinching your hardened nipple for extra stimulation.

Martin laps every gush of your sweetness, licking you clean through your orgasm. He watches as the apple of your cheeks flush bright red, and your eyes flutter rapidly in what he thinks is bliss.

“I’m too sensitive now,” you whined as you laid down next to Martin, basking in the aftershocks of your orgasm.

Martin frowns, he wanted to make you come another round, this time–with your permission– he’d use his fingers.

“Did I do good?” Martin asks as he lays on his side to face you.

“Perfect.”

“Do I get a reward?”

You throw your head back and laugh. “No.” You say as you straddle his hips, and Martin hisses when you grip the base of his cock, running the swollen head around your pussy, gathering wetness before you slid down.

Martin’s eyes roll in the back of his head over the smugness and warmth of your tight walls clamping down at him. The feeling of you was indescribable, heavenly; and he couldn’t do anything but groan and grip tightly at his sheets, desperately wanting you to move.

Once you adjusted to his overly girthy length, you began to grind your hips at an angle where you could feel the head of his cock kissing your cervix and hitting that special spot inside of you that had you cross-eyed.

Fuck he was big.

“I won’t be able to last much longer,” Martin warns, gasping at every clench you give.

“Don’t you fucking dare, Martin.” You snaked your fingers down your bud, circling your pierced clit before you came once again with a loud whine so unlike you.

However your eyes, in which you didn’t realize were closed, shot open as you felt Martin’s cock pulsate and instantly separated yourself from him causing him to whimper over the loss of contact.

“Please! I need-want to come inside of you!” He cried, chasing his hips towards your pussy.

You denied him that and started again.

Every round Martin was close to coming, you detach yourself from him. Until your hips became somewhat sluggish, Martin took you by surprise and threw you at the end of his bed, mounting you from behind. You were at a loss for words as he slid inside of you without warning, giving hard, fast, and needy thrusts.

“Be a good girl and take what I give you,” Martin mumbles as he grips the roots of your hair, forcing your head to look at him. “You don’t get to come anymore. Do you understand?”

You have no choice but to oblige.

#Ewan Mitchell #martin x reader #idk how to tag this #martin (in the modern world) x reader #ewan nation #pls dont come for me over these tagz #in the modern world #filthy smut #so be nice to me

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cityof2morrow · 1 day

Text

CDK: Design Department

Published: 9-25-2024 | Updated: N/A SUMMARY Cubic Dynamics by John B. Cube and Marcel Dusims forged the future with furnishings that were minimalist in design and maximalist in erudite pretension. Generations later, the company continues to produce edge-of-cutting-edge designs. Use the Cubic Dynamics Kitbash (Simmons, 2023-2024) collection to set up corporate, exposition, and office environments. Envisioned as an add-on to the Cubic Dynamics set (EA/Maxis, archived at GOS), it features minimalist and retro-futuristic objects. Find more CC on this site under the #co2cdkseries tag. Read the Backstory and ‘Dev Notes’ HERE. Where do the geniuses who dress SimCity’s best come up with their ideas?! Who knows…but with the DESIGN DEPARTMENT, you can finally set up proper digs for your designers, artists, and other creatives! This set includes edited items originally by Shoukeir and Spaik (see compatibility notes below). Cubic Dynamics wants your design department to be top notch – that’s why we include a free copy of the Bella Brand Designer’s Style Guide (HINT: check the low bookcase).

DETAILS All EPs/SPs. §See Catalog for Pricing | See Buy/Build Mode You need the Company Expo (Mesh Pack) set (Simmons, 2024) for TXTRs to show properly in game. ALL files with “MESH” in their name are REQUIRED. You may need “move objects” and “grid on/off” cheats to place some objects to your liking. When placing partitions/floating shelves and tables/desks/counters on the same tile, place the partition/shelves first. I recommend using this set with Object Freedom 1.02 (Fway, 2023), which includes Numenor’s fix for OFB shelves (2006), for easier use overall. ITEMS Bookcases 001-003 (340-832 poly) Chair (727 poly) Corner Tables/Sideboard (238-420 poly) – only shelves/legs visible on corner tables when placed against walls (this is intentional) Deco (148-795 poly) Desks (106-240 poly) DOWNLOAD (choose one) from SFS | from MEGA COMPATIBILITY AVOID DUPLICATES: The #co2cdkseries includes edited versions – replacements - for items in the following CC sets: 4ESF (office 3, other 1/artroom, other 2/build), All4Sims/MaleorderBride (miskatonic library, office, postmodern office), CycloneSue (never ending/privacy windows), derMarcel (inx office), Katy76/PC-Sims (bank/cash point, court/law school sets, sim cola machine), Marilu (immobilien office), Murano (ador office), Olemantinker, Reflex Sims (giacondo office), Retail Sims/HChangeri (simEx, sps store), Simgedoehns/Tolli (focus kitchen, loft office, modus office), ShinySims (modern windows), Shoukeir via Sims2Play(reverie office, step boxes/shelving), Spaik (sintesi study), Stylist Sims (offices 1,2, & 3, Toronto set), Tiggy027 (wall window frames 1-10), Wall Sims (holly architecture, Ibiza). *The goal is link the objects to the recolors/new functions in the #co2cdkseries without re-inventing the wheel! Credit to the original creators. CREDITS Thanks: EarlyPleasantview, Panda, Soloriya, ChocolateCitySim, HugeLunatic, Klaartje, Ocelotekatl, Whoward69, LoganSimmingWolf, Gayars, Ch4rmsing, Ranabluu, Gummilutt, Crisps&Kerosene, LordCrumps, PineappleForest. Sources: Any Color You Like (CuriousB, 2010), Beyno (Korn via BBFonts), EA/Maxis, Offuturistic Infographic (Freepik). SEE CREDITS (ALT)

#ts2downloads #sims2cc #ts2cc #ofbprops #co2cdkseries

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 2 hours

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Slimy fellow meets slimy fellow.

Also known as Fellow meets Azul.

I thought this one would be more fun to write if I immediately cut to Fellow at the Mostro Lounge (following the reader's advice, of course)! Also, I will take any excuse to write the twins--

This ended up being a lot longer than I had initially intended, it's over 2k words (blame my Octavinelle bias)... Hope you enjoy!

So tell me, do you wanna go?

"Whoa, Giddie. Check out this classy joint."

Fellow whistled as he took in the majesty of the Mostro Lounge.

Plum carpets gave rise to a set of stairs, and up the railings were several plush, quilted booths. Each table had its own lamp, a shining orb held up by a gnarled arm of coral. There was a bar area too, complete with a row of sleek stools, the shelves behind the counter well-stocked with tins of tea blends.

Overlooking the entire establishment was a massive glass wall, where the ocean itself peered in on the patrons. Shadows of seaweed and coral ran along the seabed outside, rainbow-colored fish darting by in bursts. Jellyfish lights swung from the ceiling, casting the lounge in an otherworldly blue glow. Smooth jazz emanated from somewhere in the eatery, backed by the soft accompaniment of ambient sounds--water splashing, bubbles dancing.

As Fellow and Gidel stood there gawking, they hadn't noticed two lanky shadows approach them from behind--not until they uttered a greeting in unison.

"Welcome to the Mostro Lounge!"

Fellow jumped at the hands that clapped onto either of his shoulders. He met two nearly identical faces.

"Table for two?" Jade offered.

"Can we getcha started with drinks?" Floyd asked.

Fellow jolted back, pointing a shaking finger at the twins. "H-HIEEEEEEE!! I-It's you guys!"

Jade smiled politely, feigning ignorance. “Oya, Fellow-san. You appear to be rather jumpy today. You’ve come to just the right place to put that anxiety to rest.”

“Y-You’re not gonna wail on us?!”

“Wail on ya?” Floyd’s mouth was stretched eerily wide. “Eheheh. Why’d we wanna do that?”

“Quite right, Floyd." Jade nodded. "We would never harm an esteemed guest. This is a gentlemen's lounge--there is no fighting allowed."

"You're... not mad about what happened before?"

The corners of Jade's mouth twitched. A droll laugh, suppressed. "Think nothing of it. Call it water under the bridge. Floyd and I, we are not the vengeful sort."

Fellow stared at him as though Jade had suddenly sprouted another head. I don't buy that for one second!!

"So do ya want grub or not? Hurry up, cuz we got other customers to deal with," Floyd groused, jabbing at finger at the packed tables behind him.

Fellow eyed them both suspiciously--but his gaze darted between the shady eels and Gidel, who was patting his belly. His reply came out weak and reluctant. "Well... If you're offering food..."

"Then right this way." Jade bent, gesturing with one hand. "I believe this is your first time dining with us, so allow me to inform you of our specials."

He led the way, expertly weaving between Octavinelle servers and roaming guests. Fellow followed, Gidel lagging behind him, and Floyd held the back of the line, plucking up two menus from a podium as they passed it. As they briskly made their way to an open booth, Jade rattled off facts.

"You may order a la cart, but we also offer meal sets in which we have curated the perfectly paired the dishes for you. Substitutions can be made upon request to accommodate allergies and dietary restrictions. There is a separate specialty beverage menu. The Mystery Drink is our most popular item--we highly recommend it."

"Wait a sec!" Fellow held up a hand. "Food's great and all, but I was hopin' to hear about something else too."

Jade craned his head. "Oh? And what might that be?"

The fox beastman leaned in, cupping his mouth against Jade's ear. "Word on the street is, the big shot around here has the ability to make wishes come true. I want in on that."

The twins exchanged a knowing look. Their mismatched eyes glinted with delight.

"... Of course, dear customer. We can arrange an audience with Azul for you. However, please be advised that it requires that you order a certain amount of food. The meal sets are worth 3 points each, and the drinks, 1 point. You will need to accumulate at least 50 points total in order to secure a spot with Azul."

"No problem! Together, Giddie and I could eat a man out of house and home," Fellow chuckled. "We'll take one of everything you've got!"

“Out of house and home!!” For some reason, this made Floyd laugh. It was an odd, raspy sound, like branches and the wind scraping and rustling against a ratty window.

“What’s so funny?”

"Oh, nothin’. You just made me remember a funny joke,” Floyd reassured him. “Don’t worry. We’ll get your order ready for ya in a jiffy~"

"Azul, you have a new client."

Jade held the door open for Fellow and Gidel to pass through. Floyd lingered in the corridor like a bouncer guarding the room--or a jailer ensuring they stay in it.

The duo stepped into a neat office, flanked on both sides by towering bookshelves. The carpet they treaded on bore an intricate pattern of scalloped shells and swirls. Two deep purple couches were set across from one another. A coffee table was between them, its surface layered glass. Luminescent blue colored the base of the bookshelves and the interior of the coffee table.

A large chunk of the back wall composed a massive vault. Seated in front of it was a young man at a grand desk. He had silvery hair swept to one side, and sharp eyes behind thick frames. A pile of contracts say upon his desk, along with a lamp and a pot of ink. He deposited what appeared to be a fish skeleton in his inkwell and stood, smiling at Fellow and Gidel.

“Welcome to the VIP Room,” the young man purred. “I am the dorm leader of Octavinelle and the manager of Mostro Lounge. Azul Ashengrotto, at your service.”

“Honest. Fellow Honest. And this here’s my little buddy, Gidel.”

"Oh, there's no need for introductions, Fellow-san. I've already heard plenty about you from Jade and Floyd."

"Have you now?" A slight edge formed in Fellow's voice. "It sounds like my reputation precedes me."

Azul chuckled darkly. "Indeed. Ah, but that is why you've come to seek my counsel, is it not? You're seeking something. Please, have a seat." He gestured to the couches. "Tell me of your troubles."

Gidel happily planted himself down, but Fellow stood his ground and clenched his fists.

"It's money," he blurted out. "I need money, and lots of it."

Azul blinked. He quickly composed himself and gave a laugh. "If I could materialize thaumarks out of thin air, the value of them would surely plummet. May I ask what it is that you intend on using these funds for?"

"I want to start my own school. One that'll be WAY better than this crappy establishment for entitled rich kids!" Fellow waved at the overembellished office with his cane. "A school for everyone, no matter what their background or social class is! A school that teaches practical life skills!"

(The twins, listening in from the doorway, snickered amongst themselves. Azul shot them a glare.)

"Hmm... I see that you're an ambitious man, Fellow-san. As a businessman myself, I must commend your drive," the merman drawled, "and I am willing to help make it a reality, provided you are also willing to pay the price. You can't get something for nothing, as I'm sure you know."

Fellow's stomach dropped. He had anticipated this, but it didn't make the gut punch any less painful. "What's it gonna cost me?"

"I'm not asking much. Just a token, really--a trifle! You'll never even miss it." Slime coated each of Azul's words. "What I want from you is... your unique magic."

He went cold, the color draining from him. From the couch, Gidel startled, suddenly alarmed. "Life is Fun?""

"Correct." Azul's smile seemed more like a smirk now. "From my understanding, your spell is able to enhance one's optimism, making the subject more susceptible to suggestion and taking risks. Not only that, but it is subtle enough to avoid detection. It would be a great boon to have at my disposal. I could easily dispel any doubts my clients may have about signing a contract."

"But that's...! That's...!" Fellow sputtered, unable to come up with a coherent argument.

"That is my offer, Fellow-san. It's non-negotiable." Azul looked him up and down. Not that he has much else to offer.

"Tch...!"

He weighed the options.

Riches for his magic. A magic so measly that mightier mages spat upon it. His magic for riches. Riches so vast he could jumpstart his dream, ensure a golden future for him and Gidel.

Azul's words coiled around him like constrictive tentacles.

"I'm not asking much. Just a token, really--a trifle! You'll never even miss it."

Fellow wavered.

Maybe I should take the deal...

"...!!"

Gidel rose from the couch and tackled Fellow, latching onto an arm. Fellow stumbled backwards, nearly crashing into a bookshelf.

"W-Whoa! Hey, watch it, Giddie!!" he yelped, trying to pry the boy off of him. "Can't 'cha see I'm thinkin' here?!"

Fellow abruptly stopped. Gidel gazed at him with wide, pleading eyes. Wetness coated the corners, tears threatening to spill.

It's a part of you. It's yours. Don't give it up, he begged.

"Giddie..." Fellow's hand sank into Gidel's hair and ruffled it. "... Thanks for that. I needed it."

His resolve returned to him, hardening into steel. Turning back to Azul, Fellow replied, "Sorry, I've changed my mind. I think I'll work things out on my own."

"!!" Gidel beamed proudly.

"Are you certain? These endeavors can be a challenge without sufficient financial backing," Azul warned.

"Positive. I don't wanna kiss up to some board of investors to move up in the world!" Fellow seized Gidel's oversized sleeve. "C'mon, we've got places to be!"

"Well!" Azul huffed, looking displeased. "If you think you can manage!"

"We can, no worries!"

With that, Fellow steered himself and Gidel out of the VIP Room. They skipped along, humming a jolly tune. Azul waited for their sound to completely vanish before he jerked his head to the twins.

"I thought you said they'd be easy marks," he bellowed.

"Perhaps we misjudged," Jade suggested, brows upturned. "The child appears to act as Fellow-san's conscience--and a rather effective one, at that."

"We did almost get them though!" Floyd protested. "Hook, line, and sinker!!"

Azul sighed deeply. "There's no helping it. What's done is done. This time, they got away from us--but it's alright. At the very least, we've got their money!"

Silence threaded the room.

"... I said, at the very least, we've got their money." Azul stared at the twins, who were strangely quiet. "We DO have their money, correct?"

"My, I may have neglected to disclose our prices to Fellow-san," Jade said with a smile. "It seems he was under the impression that the Mostro Lounge's offerings were as free as the cafeteria's buffet is."

"And since we know you're soooo generous, we thought it would be okay to let'm eat their fill to rack up those points~" Floyd added. "'Sides, Jade and I wanted to see how you'd get along!"

Azul's expression splintered. "... So you two allowed Fellow-san and Gidel-san to dine and dash? All to get a rise out of me?"

"You could phrase it like that, yes."

"Yup~!!"

Panic immediately set in. His mind raced, running the calculations simultaneously. How many tens of hundreds of thaumarks he was losing out on.

Azul pushed past the nonchalant Leeches and to the door. Gathering all of his breath, he hollered down the hallway.

"All Mostro Loungs staff on deck, this is an order from your manager!! I want that redheaded fox beastman and his cat accomplice captured and brought to me STAT!! Is that clear?!"

"Wow, Azul's really losin' it!" Floyd cackled. "It was worth all that trouble just to see this~"

"I couldn't agree more, Floyd. Fufufu, there is never a dull day in Octavinelle."

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