Won’t you be (mine) Masterlist (Steve Harrington x Reader ft. Eddie Munson)
Summary: After Nancy chooses Jonathan, Steve has resigned himself to a life without love, until you walk through the doors of Family Video. He’s never felt this way about someone before, if this is what true love feels like he never wants to lose it. There’s only one thing standing in his way, your fiancée.
Warnings: Depictions of underage relationships, depictions of abusive and toxic relationships (between reader and an oc)
Chapter 1- An Introduction
Chapter 2- Boobs and Bitch Boyfriends
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
I wanted to create a little fanart idea I had. How do you picture Duri’s mum? Does she look like Duri or did he take after his father?
Oooh, I like where this is going.
Inola had a build similar to Duri's, but softer. She had very long black hair and the same sort of honey-brown eyes as Duri. I imagine her with a proud sort of expression, but one that's playful too, if that makes sense. She was the type that knew all she was capable of and had no time for pandering and didn't like to be too serious. Her favorite color was vibrant, rich red and she loved flowing and draping fabrics, so her robes and dresses were very striking. The earring Duri wears was one of hers, and was once part of a pair. She usually never took them out.
Here's a little treat as well that may help. This is a snippet from an extra about Duri's childhood. This will give you a glance at Inola's personality, and how fearless she was. In this scene, Duri's father, Valko, has returned home and is being rather grumpy.
I know I just posted one of these polls last night. But I ended up changing my mind on a lot of the name choices. So once more I ask, help me name baby Robinavitch
I’ve supplied the meanings of the names to kind of show why I picked them. Again her middle name will be Jane so keep that in mind 🥳
If Jake ever mentions that Spider having a kuru and breathing Pandora’s air could pose a serious threat to every Na’vi, it’s easy to picture Spider just… disappearing.
Imagine this: When the dust settles and Varang has been "defeated", Jake sits Spider down, his voice low and heavy with worry, telling him he needs to keep a low profile, stay hidden, and never let the RDA find out what he’s capable of. And Spider? He listens, not showing a hint of emotion. He nods, maybe hums a little in response, all while his mind is quietly unraveling.
In his neglected, traumatized mind, Jake’s words don’t come across as a warning. They feel like a command. They echo: Leave and don’t come back. This is for everyone’s safety… and yours.
So Spider takes it to heart. He sees Jake’s warning as a final order. That very day, he bonds with an ikran, and under the cover of night, he vanishes. Silent. Swift. He is gone before anyone can notice. Just gone.
By morning, the boy is gone. His tracks are hidden, his presence wiped clean. The Sullys search frantically, calling out for him, combing through every canyon and valley, but Spider has covered his trail too well.
Six long, empty years go by. His absence eats away at them all, especially Jake. He had just started to bond with Spider, just begun to let himself care, and the guilt festers like an open wound. It twists into an obsession. He hunts for Spider with the same relentless focus he once had for becoming Toruk Makto once more to protect his family.
Kiri is no better. She spends her days pushing her connection with Eywa to find even the faintest hint of Spider, reaching until exhaustion pulls her under. But no matter how far she stretches, she always comes up empty.
And then, by sheer chance...Spider is found.
In the chaos of a skirmish with the RDA, Jake catches sight of a masked human taking down soldiers with precision and rage. The figure moves like a shadow, their face concealed behind a carved, almost ceremonial mask. When the dust settles, Jake moves in closer, heart racing. He lunges forward and yanks the mask away...
Spider.
Older. Taller. Broader. His frame has been toughened by years of survival. The dreads are gone, replaced by a single long braid that hangs down his back. His eyes are steady and cautious, but they light up with amusement and wariness when he spots Jake.
“Oh, hey, Jake.”
Six years. Six long years. And that’s the first thing he says?
Jake is a whirlwind of emotions: relief, heartbreak, and a simmering rage. He can’t even trust his own voice right now. So, he does the only thing that makes sense...he uses his Na’vi strength to scoop Spider up like a wayward sack of potatoes, tossing him onto his own ikran, and takes off into the open sky. He doesn't give a shit that Spider is a grown man and twenty-one years of age. He will always be that skinny, dirty little kid, always running after him.
Spider squawks in protest, flailing and shouting, but Jake tunes it all out. His mind is racing with thoughts of the lecture, the infamous lecture, that’s about to rock the very foundations of High Camp when they finally get home.
Our scars can destroy us. Even after the physical wounds have healed. But if we survive them, they can transform us. They can give us the power to endure… and the strength to fight. // Parents aren't for telling their children who they're supposed to be. We are here to give y'aII tools, help you make fools of yourselves all on your own. Your choices, Clark. Your actions. That's what makes you who you are.
So much of my impression of Reed Richards as autistic in the new Fantastic Four movie comes from Pedro Pascal's delivery. The way he chooses to say these lines makes such a difference--like "I am that smart" or "Anyone can build a crib, only I can build this" could EASILY have made him read as an a-hole, but Pedro's Reed says them with a sincerity that feels very autistic to me. He's not bragging or being snide, he's just stating the truth, and there's even a lot of gentleness in it. (And, I mean, come on, his confusion about the extra screws for the crib? "They included two extra...I have no idea why." He meant that!) His argument with Ben about how "cooking is more of an art than a math or a science" and how he failed his driver's test because of "poorly placed signage" (I love him) could have felt pedantic or prideful, but he says them with this sweet, almost abashed feeling that feels very genuine and familiar.
His reactions to Sue's pregnancy and the press post-Galactus excursion also read as autistic: he is clearly feeling a lot, but he isn't sure how to express it, so with Sue it comes out as immediately moving to problem-solving ("we'll have to design tests to account for our mutated DNA--") and with the press it shows up as reassurance-seeking: even though he's at the mic, he is constantly looking over at his family as if they could tell him what he should say. They even do end up answering some questions for him, and the most he says without a very long pause is his first comment: "I'm sorry we don't have a prepared statement" (which because of its delivery also feels very autistic).
And there's also his face, which is highlighted as very expressive in contrast to his fairly monotone voice. "I finally crossed it off the list," is said very simply and without context (true autistic information-sharing lol) but when Johnny jokes with him afterwards about taking back all the bad things he's said, Reed's face is telegraphing that he doesn't know how much of it is a joke. And at the start of the film, it's joked that his face is what gives away the pregnancy. (Not to mention Ben's joke about being surprised Reed isn't in panic-induced sweats and his reply that "I had that scheduled for later"...sir. You're not dodging the allegations)
Even in his fight with Sue the entirety of what he says is just so autistic to me. "I don't dream, I don't wonder. I let all of the worst things into my head, because it's my job to think of the bad things so that we can do them to them before they do them to us!" and Sue responds, "It's not your job, it's you." And he immediately agrees. And when Sue says "Sometimes, you being you hurts me," he can only pause and say "I don't mean to..." And Sue responds, "I know." And both of them feel so honest in how they say these lines! Reed really doesn't mean to hurt her, of course he doesn't, but he also doesn't know any other way to be, and he doesn't know how to make it hurt her less, and you can feel that he's really at a loss for what to do. Thankfully he is met with understanding, but the experience of the way you are and how you function being something that can hurt other people without your intending to or being able to help it is extremely relatable to autistic people. On top of this interaction, Reed feels like his whole family's pain is his fault, because he "should have known" that the suits "were...inadequate"--self-blame which makes him even more relatable.
And then there's the heartbreaking scene with him and Franklin where he quietly tells him, "I hope you're not like me. There's something wrong with me...always has been." It wasn't just the mutated DNA that made Reed feel wrong. He says he's always felt that way. There's nothing more autistic than that.
Anyway yeah I'm used to Reed feeling like a colder, less-emotional version of Tony Stark, but Pedro Pascal really breathes new life into this character. He is anxious and particular and warm and very, very autistic.
summary: swiping left and right on tinder, you think you match with Joel Miller, a handsome single dad in his late 30s. Feeling enamored and horny you decide to meet in person, only to be met with an almost completely different person.
warnings: darkfic, dub-con eliments due to alcohol intoxication, gaslighting, very big age gap [Joel is 61], switching POVs, explicit sexual content. Some tags are not added to avoid spoilers, dm me if you need the full list.
reader description: afab she/her, has hair long enough to be pulled; has boobs and ass; reader mid to late 20s-early 30s.
word count: 6,2k
a/n: thank you for all of the excitement and interest you'd shown to this idea, i have been working on it for some time and i'm finally happy to show you part one. huge thanks to @arcanefox207 , Ally helped me to polish this chapter and shown me a lot of support which i truly appreciate <3
READ ON AO3
MASTERLIST | part 2
Dating wasn’t fun. It always felt like an inescapable chore for you, and you tried to avoid it at all costs. Hiding your face in your morning cup of tea when attacked by your mom’s questions, her voice distorted by poor video connection. Joking only to avoid the topic of boyfriends and girlfriends when your friend kept nagging you about it. Losing yourself in an unsatisfactory myriad of hands that belonged to faceless people when the nights got too cold for empty sheets.
You looked at your table, a small hand-made sign read “do better” in your own handwriting. And that was exactly what you were going to do. You were going to kill not two, but three birds with one stone, and that stone was going to be going on a date. A real, proper date, with excruciatingly predictable questions and awkward first touches. And you were going to have fun.
On the fourth hour of swiping Tinder, you were a breath away from ghosting everyone you knew and hiding in the Peruvian Amazonia for the rest of your life. The few conversations that you managed to have quickly died out when the person you talked to learned what you were there for. A month ago you’d find a pretty face and invite them over to smoke and have some fun, but that wasn’t a great start for an actual relationship. No, your fuckgirl days were over, so you went back to swiping.
And that was when you saw him.
Joel M., 39
Southern gentleman with a beautiful daughter. Work in construction, so I can build you a house. I am looking for a real connection, please, respect that.
God, he was handsome. Your mouth started salivating as you swiped through his pictures. He was broad, tall and had a tool in his hand. Not the one you immediately started wondering about, but it looked like at least he didn’t lie in his description. Feeling like a complete creep, you screenshotted his profile. If you weren’t a match, at least you’d have someone pretty to think about before going to bed tonight.
Gently, as if afraid, you swiped right. Your screen lit up, and so did your face, you gave a wide grin to your phone. “It’s a match!”
He was too good to be true. A gentleman, he didn’t lie there. Joel gave you the exact amount of attention to make you run towards your phone whenever it rang. It was definitely nothing like you expected. He was attentive, remembering what you said and when, never shied away from your questions, and on top of that he was devastatingly hot.
You heard a blip of a new message and unlocked your phone, a smile already plastered on your face like a Pavlovian reaction.
[Joel M.]: I was thinking, we seem to have a nice connection here, don’t we?
[You]: I think so, too. A little unbelievable, but I am feeling hopeful.
[Joel M.]: Unbelievable how?[You]: Unbelievable that no one snatched you up earlier. From where I am sitting, you look like a full package.
[Joel M.]: Well, you’re sitting awfully far away, so I see how it looks like that. Why don’t we meet in person and find out if you still think the same, darlin?
[You]: Joel, are you inviting me on a date?
[Joel M.]: Only if you’re accepting. How about a dinner at my place? I am a pretty decent cook.
Your hand hovered above the screen. It wasn’t smart, going to a man’s place for your first date. He could be a creep, he could be a murderer… But then again, you could never brag about your self preservation instincts, sometimes you just thought with a little kitty purring between your legs.
You tapped on his profile again, looking at the zoomed in picture of his face. His brown eyes looked sad, but kind. A half-smile tugged on his soft-looking lips. Just a few sprinkles of salt and pepper in his hair. Even if he turned out to be a creep, you’d never had such a handsome lay before, and you were planning to check all of his tools as soon as you could, you thought to yourself before typing your reply.
[You]: I’d love that. Send me the address?
You weren’t worried, not really. You never struggled with too low of self-esteem. You knew your strong suits, and you wore them like armor. The upcoming date sent a pleasant shiver down your back, anticipation made you giggle into the void of your lonely apartment. The closer the day came, the giddier you became.
So on the fateful night you had enough confidence to pick out the dress that was a bit uncomfortable but looked gorgeous on your body. You smacked some lipstick that complemented the shade of your skin, grabbed a small purse and a bottle of wine and winked at your reflection in the mirror. You looked good, you felt even better.
August kept tricking you with its weather, the days still suffocated you with heat while the nights were unpleasantly chilly. You hugged your naked shoulders and rubbed your skin in an attempt to warm up as you waited for your Uber to arrive.
You got inside the white Honda Civic, the smell of cigarettes unpleasantly soaked into the seats so you opened up the window praying that it wouldn’t stink up your dress. The driver acknowledged you with a small grunt and a nod, you did the same, not willing to start a conversation. The estimated forty minutes dragged out and became an hour in the man’s GPS, of course you got stuck in traffic it was just your luck. And on your way to a literal dream man, no less.
Your kitten heel kept tapping on the car floor, the annoyed-looking driver gave you a stern look in the rear view mirror that you completely ignored. You needed to warn Joel that you were going to be late, and it made you want to grind your teeth. You hated being late, be that a party, a dentist appointment or a walk in the park with a friend. It made you feel guilty, leaving your palms sticky with cold sweat. You clearly weren’t going to make a good first impression, and with the way you chewed your lip bloody, you might not even get a kiss. You looked at the picture of him you shamelessly saved to your camera roll. Out of the two of you, you were definitely winning the creep competition, while he was just a dream come true.
You zoomed in on his face, your thumb caressed the pixels of his skin. There were smile lines around his lips, and you wondered what made him laugh so hard throughout his life that the remnants of the gesture permanently cut themself into his skin. Joel’s eyes were gleaming with youthful mischief, something you’d thought a person loses after having a child, but he clearly proved you wrong. Sun made his brown look like amber, adding to the overall handsomeness of the man. You imagined yourself next to him – yes, it was way too early, but you couldn’t keep your mind from wandering – he’d be taller, bigger than you, his strong hand on your lower back as you walk through the city. The eyes of men and women hungry to have what’s yours, but he’d only look at you. Yes, he was a bit older, but still young enough to have you on his arm without dealing with accusatory stares and venomous whispers behind your back.
A loud honking from the car behind you made you jump in your seat. The line of cars finally started moving and it brought a sense of relief to you. You had 20 more minutes, maybe you were still going to make it.
The sound of your heels kissing the pavement echoed like gunfire through the neighborhood. When your taxi left you at the needed address, you looked around. It wasn’t too late, the small houses still looked alive with yellow lights and muffled voices. You took a deep breath, straightened your back and looked in front of yourself, examining the location.
From the outside, Joel’s house looked nice. Nothing too fancy, the white paint a bit chapped, but the porch looked recently freshened up. A sturdy looking rocking chair covered with a blanket and a pillow gave the place a cozy feeling. His lawn was perfectly trimmed, and you imagined watching him mow it from that same porch with an iced tea in your hand. He’d be sweaty and shirtless, you’d drag him inside to fuck before he finished even a third of the territory. You clenched your thighs, a small pool of wetness gathering in your thongs. You better keep that thought away or you’d jump the poor man’s bones before he had the chance to say hello.
You checked your phone, 8:27 PM. Not too late, even acceptable in some countries, you tried to cheer yourself on. You hoped he wasn’t as insane about being late as you were or here went your first date in years. Gently, you tapped on the wooden door, the sound of someone approaching from the other side made you squeeze the bottle neck harder.
When the door flew open, you stretched out the hand holding the wine and fired out an apology in the most comical way you could, your eyes tightly shut.
“I’m so sorry I’m late, the traffic was horrendous. I promise I am usually never late, ever.” When no reply followed, you opened your eyes, a smile still tugging on your lips as you took in the man in front of you. It was both Joel and not. With your hand still outstretched, your mouth dropped with a hundred different questions, but you only managed to ask one. “Joel?”
“Hello, darlin’.”
“Is this some kind of a joke? Are you his dad or something?”
The man in front of you was not in his late thirties, hell, he wasn’t even in his late forties! The Joel that was staring at you looked pretty old, mid-fifties at least, you thought to yourself. His hair was mostly salt, no pepper in sight. It was inches longer than in the picture, soft-looking, it curled at the bottom. He was as tall and broad as you imagined, and it did give a little pang to your core that you quickly shut off. His face was ridden in wrinkles, prominent crows feet near his eyes that were still sad, still brown. You had half a thought to turn around and order yourself an Uber home, but the bewildered look on his face made you stop where you were.
“Darlin’, I know what’s going through your head right now, because I promise I didn’t expect you to be this young either! It must’ve been Sarah, my baby girl. She set up this thing, said she was tired of seeing her old man sad an’ miserable. Guess she didn’t think I was mighty attractive anymore.” He says with a self-deprecating chuckle. “She just straight up told me today that a nice woman would come over for a dinner, said she’d be here too, and if I loved her I had better prepared my nicest shirt an’ all. Christ, what was that girl thinking?”
You caught yourself feeling bad for the man, your heart clenching. He was still definitely handsome. His stomach was slightly more prominent and his was shirt hugging him tightly in the middle. His hand that tucked a little white strand of hair behind his ear matched his face in little sun spots, skin that had been kissed by the burning star for longer than you’d been alive. But he still got it, in a silver fox kind of way. Poor man, put into such an embarrassing situation by his own daughter. Being willingly childfree had never looked more appealing to you.
“You came all the way here just to be disappointed, I can’t tell you how-“
“I’m not disappointed,” you interrupted him quickly and stepped forward, an unknown force drove your hand to squeeze his forearm in a reassuring gesture. His eyes dropped when your manicured nails dug into his ironed flannel. “Just surprised, but that’s not a bad thing. We both unknowingly catfished each other.”
“Catfish? Ain’t that a type of fish?”
“No,” you laughed lightheartedly, the man was adorable. The cold breeze picked up, and you were reminded that you were still on the porch, if any neighbors were out they were definitely getting a fresh batch of gossip to discuss before sleep. “It’s when you… You know what, no matter, it’s not important.”
Joel looked hesitant, his jaw ticked and you noticed him look you up and down before swallowing hard. Was he blushing?
“I want to make it up to you before you go. I made us a nice dinner when I thought you were umm… age appropriate,” Joel tightened his lips and gave you an apologetic smile. “It ain’t catfish, just a steak, but I swear on my mama, it’s good.”
Before you could respond, your stomach growled making the decision for you. Your hand jumped to it, fisting the material of your dress as if trying to silence the embarrassing sound.
“Well, I don’t see any harm in that,” you smiled, accepting Joel’s invitation. The man looked harmless and you didn’t want to leave him sad and miserable, it seemed like he felt guilty enough. “It was quite a long drive.” Maybe it all could become a funny story you both would tell your friends. Separately.
He stepped aside and you waltzed inside his house. It was big enough to still be cozy without making you feel trapped. The warm light made everything look safe and homey, hardwood floor creaked gently under your footsteps. The door lock clicked behind you and you turned around.
Joel was looking at you, a more confident smile now stretching his lips. The soft lighting took a few years off his face, and once again you noted that the man aged like a fine wine. That reminded you of the bottle you were still tightly gripping in your hand, and you stretched it out to Joel for the second time that night. He accepted with a muttered ‘thank you’.
“Feel at home, sweetheart, I’ll just grab something real quick.” Joel pointed towards his kitchen, the space was open, luring you in with a mouth-watering smell.
You felt awkward walking around a stranger’s house, but followed his instructions.
You didn’t see the way his eyes lingered on the exposed skin of the back of your thighs, his tongue flicking over his lower lip in anticipation.
He disappeared further into the hallway, and you made your way towards the dining table.
Alone, you took the opportunity to study the place you were allowed in. Unfortunately, it wasn’t very unique, or maybe you were just a shitty detective. Joel’s kitchen that spilled out into a dining room was disappointingly ordinary. Walls painted a soft yellow; polished doors of wooden cupboards and kitchen cabinets that looked old but taken care of; a four-person dining table that was now set with a few plates, simple utensils, napkins and wine glasses. You narrowed your eyes trying to see the pictures that were stuck to the fridge with small butterfly magnets. Your long ride and empty stomach must’ve taken a toll on your eyesight so you could barely make out Joel in those. There was a picture of him with another man, and… You leaned over the table as if trying to get closer, to see better.
“You know, you can just come closer to the fridge.” Joel’s chuckle made you jump in your seat.
“Sorry, I was just,” the right explanation failed you, and you surrendered. “I was just being nosy.”
“Didn’t catch you going through my drawers, so no harm. Can’t really snoop if it’s out there to see, right?” Joel set the opened bottle of the wine you’d brought on the table and waved a bottle opener in his right hand. “Haven’t had wine in some time so had to go look for this guy,” he explained.
“Whatever you made, it smells delicious,” you smiled at him. The sucking feeling in your stomach became uncomfortable, and you cursed at yourself internally for skipping lunch.
“Well then, let’s get some of it in you, shall we?”
Joel seemed way more relaxed, maybe your agreement to spend time with him made him feel less guilty for his daughter’s actions; or maybe it was the confidence of being a host. Either way, it looked good on him.
You didn’t stop your eye from wandering over his frame while he looked away, putting food on your plates. His dark green shirt was snug around his broad shoulders, the soft-looking material translated the feeling of warmth and comfort you lacked in your dress. He had blue jeans on, and you felt your cheeks heat up when you noticed a firm ass hidden behind the rough fabric. Your hand left the table, and you tugged at your bottom lip absent-mindlessly. What was twenty more years? He turned around and since your eyes hadn't moved, you were now shamelessly staring at his crotch. The jeans did not hide much.
You snapped your face up immediately at Joel’s quiet cough. There was a barely hidden smirk on his face, so you decided that no harm was done. So what if you gave the man a quiet compliment? You’d been doing that for the last two weeks, even though apparently his daughter was the one responding to them. You could spare some flirting for the poor guy, he looked like he enjoyed a bit of your harmless attention.
He didn’t lie, he was a decent cook. The meat melted on your tongue and the wine you brought complimented it nicely. You didn’t notice the way your glass was always full, Joel’s stories from the past kept you too entranced.
Heat was creeping up your chest, settling in your cheeks and you moved the wine glass away. You could tolerate a full bottle without being visibly affected, not your proudest trick but it was what it was. Yet, now you felt like you’d emptied at least a couple of bottles on an empty stomach, even though the bottle on the table proved otherwise. You felt dizzy, but not in a bad way, just more relaxed than you were planning to be. Joel looked more handsome every minute, his syrupy thick voice lulled you into a trance-like headspace.
“Can’t lie, you look mighty pretty, darlin’. Had I been thirty years younger it’d be hard to keep my hands to myself.”
Wine dimmed your instincts, so you just giggled. Joel’s eyes darkened as he tripped his gaze from your face to your bust, your breasts straining against the silk fabric of your dress. You noticed him looking and cleared your throat, tits jiggling slightly.
“Forgive an old man, sweetheart?” There was nothing sorry about his tone, but it slipped your mind completely, your guard almost all the way down. “As I said, haven't had a pretty thing like you here in ages.”
You tried to study his face, your brain foggy as you struggled to figure him out. “You compliment like a man deep in the dating pool,” you smirked, “makes it hard to believe it’s all an accident. Maybe you actually lured me in here
intentionally?” You raised your eyebrows, but couldn’t handle your own silly accusation, breaking down in giggles.
“Don’t worry, darlin’, this old dog is all bark no bite.” His smile looked sincere, kind laughter leaving his wet lips and he gave you a wink.
“You’re not that old,” your voice dragged the words out like you wanted to convince yourself more than him. You felt hot all over and you weren’t sure if it was the result of the wine you drank.
“You’re too kind, sweetheart, no need to spare my feelings. My prime is long behind the horizon.”
“No, you’re actually very handsome,” you didn’t lie, anyone with a good working set of eyes would see his attractiveness, and you had two weeks to cement it in your brain. “You have a very nice smile, and your hands,” your eyes dropped on the table where a giant fist was curled around his fork. “A lot of women appreciate a good set of hands.”
“Learned to work with them pretty well, too.” Joel nodded and smirked. “Leaking faucets, clogged drainage. Can fix it all.”
In your mind that phrase sounded naughtier than you were sure the man intended it to, and you reprimanded yourself, feeling a different kind of heat rise from your belly. With one swift movement you’ve emptied what was left in your glass of wine, forgetting about your need to somehow get home after dinner. Joel only poured some more in your glass, smiling softly.
He learned the dance moves long ago. Pretty birds like you were comfortably predictable, and even though you oozed a different kind of odor, he knew exactly what to say. He watched you sip your wine with ease, his own glass barely touched on the table.
When the last piece of salad was cleaned off your plate, you felt a pleasant fullness in your belly. Your head was heavy in a sleepy kind of way, and you looked around, trying to find something to hold your attention on. Your eyes skimmed the living room, from where you were sitting you could see an old couch, in some spots it was now more beige than brown, its big cushions looked soft and the blue quilt draped over the back of it was calling your name.
There was a guitar leaning against one of the armrests and you moved your eyes back at Joel who was silently studying you.
“You play that?” You blindly pointed your thumb towards the strategically placed instrument and Joel curtly nodded.
“I pluck the strings, sometimes something bearable comes out.” He joked, the apples of his cheeks saturated with color and you reached your hand to take his
and gently squeezed it. Joel’s skin turned out to be warm and dry, the sensation of giving him such an innocent touch tingled on your fingertips.
“I noticed you tend to undersell yourself. Would you play something for me?” You didn’t want to leave yet, and your empty plate didn’t really leave you a reason to stay. You tilted your head to the right and gave Joel a sweet smile, hoping he’d succumb to your charm. He didn’t wait long before returning the soft gesture. Slowly, he got off his seat. His figure loomed above you for a quiet moment before he outstretched his palm.
“I’d never be able to refuse you,” he admitted. Your hand drowned in his and he tugged you up. You almost crushed into his broad chest, but to your own dismay he took a step back. Your insides throbbed, the smell of his cologne mixed with his own odor awoke every single receptor on your skin.
“Do you like old stuff?”
“I’m still here,” you quipped and shrugged your shoulders innocently. Joel stopped, making sure you saw him roll his eyes in fake annoyance. He couldn’t contain the breathy laugh, though, so you knew he got your joke.
You moved towards the couch, while Joel walked a step behind you, enjoying the view of your ass in a skin tight dress. The outline of your thongs was visible to him, and he smiled to himself, maybe you weren’t as innocent as you pretended to be. Joel bit the inside of his cheek to refrain from any comments.
His hand hugged the neck of the guitar confidently, while you made yourself comfortable on the couch.
“I think I know just the thing.”
Your eyes never left his fingers as he started to hum an unfamiliar melody.
His voice lulled you in, deep vibrations as he plucked the strings reverberated in your chest. You felt so warm inside, the heat that was pooling in the depth of your belly rose and touched your chest, neck, the tips of your fingers. The dress clung to your skin unpleasantly and for a moment you wished you could take it off. Was it so wrong?
Your eyes traced Joel’s face, the sharp angle of his nose, the tip of it twitching as he sang gently. His lips caressed the words with a tenderness of a lover and you wondered when was the last time they did the same to a woman. Your thighs tightened as your body already knew something your mind only danced around. You shifted in your seat, moving closer to Joel, letting your knees touch.His eyes found yours, a question burning in his browns. You shrugged your shoulders and gave him a small smile, he smiled back. The melody continued, his warm timbre embracing the words.
Maybe tomorrow, honey,
Some place down the line, I’ll wake up older
So much older, mama,
I’ll wake up older, and I’ll just stop all my trying
Your fingers drew patterns on your dress, nails picking at the seam with nervousness. The fire in the center of you gave you confidence to follow through, and your hand ended up on Joel’s knee, slowly moving up until your pinky touched the wood of his guitar. The melody didn’t falter, but his voice did.
“Whatcha doin’, sweetheart?”
“It is a date, isn’t it?” The shreds of your confidence only allowed you to squeeze his thigh with a hint, yet your eyes looked anywhere but his face.
“You shouldn’t do something like that to an old man like me, will break my heart when you leave,” he sounded so painfully sad, it made your heart ache as bad as your pussy. You looked him in the eye then, god, he was so handsome.
“What if I don’t leave?” You challenged him like a mouse challenging a lion. Joel shook his head, his hand gripping the guitar’s neck viciously.
“Stop playing with me, darlin’.”
“What if I’m not playing?”
You expected another sad plea, another crack in his voice. But instead, he put his guitar to the side and spread his legs wider than before. “Then prove it.” He husked out. “Prove that you know what you’re doing.”
There was no mistake in what he meant. His voice added a new depth into it, eyes glowed with something dark. Passion, you thought. Need. The one that was pushing you to your knees at that same moment. The one that numbed your skin when your bones hit the hardwood floor between his spread thighs. The one that guided your hands to his zipper before you could even steal a kiss off his tantalizing lips.
He was hot underneath his clothes, his skin was burning like he had a fever and you were almost too impatient to be gentle. Joel lifted his hips just enough to help you tug his jeans down, his grey cotton boxers followed. He watched you intently, and you watched his half-hard cock lay heavily on his full balls. They were hanging low, their size intimidating. But no more intimidating than the main course.
You weren’t offended that he wasn’t fully hard yet, still, Joel took you by the chin and made you look at him. “Sorry, darlin’, you’re the prettiest girl I’ve seen in a long time, but at my age, it’s just not enough anymore.”
You nodded, your mouth flooding with saliva at the thought of him growing under your tongue. He was thick, veiny, more veiny than the dicks you’d seen
before so you thought it was an age thing, however the vines surrounding his shaft only made you whimper harder, thighs squelching with your arousal.
You leaned forward, inhaling full lungs of him. It was heady, strong, and made you dizzier than all the wine you drank. You reached your hand out with the intent of touching his cock, but Joel stopped you.
“Touch yourself.” For the first time you heard something dark in his melody. Commanding.
“What?” You were confused. Did he want you to just play with yourself? Because you were on the verge of bursting if he didn’t let you get closer to his cock.
“Put your little hand in your panties and slick it up with all the sweet juices that have been leaking out of you since the moment you saw me, darlin’.” Your mouth fell open, hand following his order under Joel’s dominant gaze. “Then you can wrap it around my dick, and prove to me that you really want this.”
It was so easy to just do what he said, without questioning the moral, the consequences. Your hand was wet with your arousal, pussy begging to keep it
there, to give some attention to your clit, but your mind was set on the man before you.
He hissed when you wrapped your slick hand around his shaft and started jerking it slowly, feeling the girth of him thrum with growing desire. You looked at his cock, entranced. His shaft was shining with your own juices, a pink head became deeper in color as more blood rushed to his cock. You swiped your thumb over it, a tiny drop of precum glistening in his slit.
“You’re doin’ such a good job, angel.” Joel’s hoarse voice was almost a whisper. You felt the steam coming from him, it made you sweat, your breath hitching. “Why don’t you put that mouth to use, hm, darlin’? You speak awful lot with it.”
It almost made you giggle, a plan forming in your head. Instead of letting his cock in the scorching wetness of your mouth, your head dropped lower. You
stuck your tongue out, lathering his heavy balls in your saliva. They were fuzzy, like a ripe peach, and you massaged them with the wet muscle.
“Fuck, ain’t nothing angelic about you, huh?” Joel’s voice was barely recognizable, hungry and low it vibrated in your pussy. You opened your mouth wider, sucking his balls in turn. “That’s right, making me feel so good, sucking on my balls like that. Come on, baby, use your tongue.”
You tried to alternate between licking and sucking on his ballsack, your spit drooling over your chin while you were panting like a rabid dog. The only thing that mocked your ladylikeness was your goddamn dress, and it was almost drenched in your own slick at this point.
“Good girl, sucking on my balls like it’s what you came here for. Came here to make an old man cum? What a perverted little girl you are, sweetheart.” Your pussy tingled with your praise. The mouth on him made your head spin, like a newfound drug that affected only you he seeped under your skin making you pant and moan as you continued pleasuring him. Your hand jerked his thick cock in tandem with your mouth on his balls. Joel’s eyes never left you, as he continued praising you. “Mmhm, that’s good, drench ‘em, fuck you’re a dirty one.”
You felt his hand at the back of your head as it pressed you harder into him, your nose was forced into his perineum and he almost humped your face with his groin. Your tongue hung out, and he managed to slide his balls across it before it almost went too low. The tip of your tongue almost touching his puckered hole covered in more hair.
“Not today,” you heard him grumble before tugging you up. “Come on, darlin’, don’t make me waste a load.” He pushed on your cheeks with his hand, feeding you his cock in one movement. It was a lot to take, your teeth barely scraping his shaft, and you used your tongue to protect the underside. “Take it all, come on, darlin’, you’re the one who wanted it.”
Intoxication and arousal didn’t mix well, as you just moaned pathetically around him, letting him deeper in your throat. It bulged with the sheer size of his dick, you felt it, uncomfortable, but you couldn’t move, your body too heavy and tired. Instead, your hands found his wet balls, already tight and ready to blow every drop of cum he’d been saving for you. You tried to fit them in your hand, gently tugging at his sack to stimulate him further.
“Ready, sweetheart? I better not see you waste a drop.” His hips bucked, and your nose was pressed into the soft tuft of his grey pubes. Joel pressed your head into him harder as his hot load trickled down your throat. You tried to breathe through your nose, the lack of oxygen blackening your vision.
He pulled out seconds before you were ready to pass out.
“Gotta tap my leg or somethin’, sugar. I don’t need you dying with my cock still in your throat.” You chuckled, not sure why. Joel placed his hand on your cheek, his thumb tracing your lower lip, slippery with your saliva. His whisper sounded gentle, “God, you’re a mess. Beautiful.”
You didn’t trust your throat to work, so instead, you tried to get up on your trembling legs. Your pussy still screamed for release, so wet you could feel your arousal escaping your thongs and dripping down your leg. You hiked the skirt of your dress up, not an ounce of shame inside, and straddled Joel.
“Whoa, darlin’, slow down,” his hands dropped to your hips, keeping you in place. Your brows furrowed. He didn’t look like a man who’d let a lady down. “Why don’t we change our location?”
You didn’t get an opportunity to look around, your feet scrambling as he tugged you into a dark room. His pants were up, but undone, and you lost your heels somewhere along the way, your dress still hiked up like a common whore.
Everything was spinning, so when he dropped on the bed at first you thought he fell. His voice was navigating you through the darkness, but you could barely concentrate on it.
“Come here, angel, let this old man take care of your pretty pussy.” Joel smacked his lips, and guided you to climb on top of him, legs on each side of his body until your pussy hovered over his face.
“Panties,” you whimpered and heard an immediate crack of fabric ripping.
“Sorry, darlin’, can’t make you wait any longer,” his face pressed into the side of your thigh, sticky with your own juices, and you whimpered pathetically at the texture of his scruff scratching your sensitive skin. “Smell so good, fresh, like a new doll.”
You couldn’t understand what he meant, you didn’t even try to. When his lips latched onto your clit, your head tilted back and you let out a loud moan. Joel only moaned back, the sound penetrating your pussy alongside his tongue.
His hands gripped your asscheeks painfully, forcing you to grind on his face. His tongue slipped in your wet hole, and you felt yourself shaking on top of him, your legs giving out as he kept fucking you with his tongue.
Joel growled in your skin, making you crawl to your orgasm faster and faster with every swipe of his tongue.
The tip of his nose kept hitting your sensitive clit, as he pushed his tongue further and further in your fluttering hole. He kissed his way up, pinching your clit between his tightly clasped lips and sucked, punching a cry out of you with his raw vigor.
“Come on, sugar,” he commanded, “I feel her cryin’, give her what she wants.”
With doubled passion he flickered his tongue over your throbbing bud, and you felt sweat trickling down your neck and soaking into your dress as an orgasm rushed over you.
Your body felt powerless, and if not for Joel’s strong hands still holding you up, you’d have fallen back. But he kept you somewhat steady, lapping up all that your wasted body could give him until every swipe of his tongue started being painful and you had physically push his face away with trembling hands.
“Got too enthusiastic, my bad. Ain’t every day I get to drink from a fountain of youth.” Joel joked, helping you settle next to him in his bed.
Your tired body was half laying on top of him, fully drained yet still unexplainably insatiable. Forced by something deep in the pit of your belly, you dragged your nails over his soft stomach until you touched his soft cock again. Joel quickly stopped you, grabbing your wrist and bringing your hand to his chest. You felt the sparse hairs on his nipple tickle your palm. His heartbeat was hard, but steady.
“Sorry, angel, ain’t that young anymore.” He said, kissing the crown of your head. His fingers found their way into your hair and he tugged at it gently. “If you want me to fuck that pretty hole of yours, you’ll just have to agree to a second date.”
Your words were slurred, eyelids too heavy to keep them open. “Maybe I will, old man.”
He chuckled, the grip of his fingers in your hair tightened as he looked in the distance. A couple of flickering street lamps visible from his window were providing minimum light in his room and a possessive smile creeped onto his lips as he listened to you snoring lightly into his chest.
You weren't the first mouse to get trapped so easily, but something told him you were special. He wasn't ready to discard you just yet.
LEAVE A COMMENT, YOUR FEEDBACK IS MY MOTIVATION <3
You should write the most niche, indulgent fiction that appeals to you specifically, because it will be much more artistically authentic and valuable than corporate slop that has been focus tested to death to appeal to the widest audience possible.
Write for yourself and you will always be making authentic art that has an uncompromised vision, and you will gain an audience that appreciates that.
A game called South of Midnight comes out on April 8th. Y’all keep complaining about media having the same storyline over and over again with the same white people at the forefront. I need you to blow this game the fuck up.
Black female main character. With American South mythology woven in. Completely different
I NEED THIS GAME TO SUCCEED I AM SO EXCITED FOR THIS GAME YOU HAVE NO IDEA
I’m looking you in your eyes right now. Play this game. Play this fucking game.
I say this as someone studying anthropology, someone who has studied many many cultures around the world. The American south has some of if not the COOLEST folklore you will see out there. And this game clearly has so much love, respect and effort put into it, I have no doubts that it will represent it flawlessly. If you have any interest in folklore or the American south, I HEAVILY recommend you check it out.
South of Midnight is a new action-adventure from Compulsion Games. Explore the mythos and confront mysterious creatures of the Deep South in
I've been playing this for the last 24 hours and it's a goddamn amazing game. The lore is amazing, the animation style is beautiful, the story is compelling, it's funny, heart-breaking, and tragic, and I'm enjoying every moment!!
