#Light Up Skeleton Staff | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

agustdiv1ne · 9 months

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♫⋆｡`♪ ₊ﾟ.11:01 p.m. (m) — choi yeonjun

genre: smսt, bratty sub!yeonjun, rockstar!yeonjun, dom!fem!reader, yj wears a collar at all times bc i said so, light petplay (he gets called pup, but nothing further than that) <3

wc: 2.9k

yeonjun's little secret is hidden in plain sight.

his skeleton in the closet is encapsulated by a simple piece of leather wrapped around his throat — it's something that he nearly always has on, whether it be promotional photos, meet and greets, or concerts. his fans have spotted it on him when he's out partying, perusing festivals, even while he's simply out and about. sometimes, he even attaches a longer piece to it, wraps it around his wrist like a leash, and yet everyone always dismisses it as some sort of social commentary (he's honestly seen enough think pieces on twitter to last a lifetime). and when someone asks about it? he brushes it off and smoothly changes the subject.

because it's not just a plain old choker, or a collar worn to criticize an oppressive social regime — no, it is yeonjun's indirect way of telling the world that he belongs to you.

indeed, you, the pretty little girlfriend of tomorrow by together's famous drummer, have more power over him than anyone else. he's yours to keep in line, yours to ruin — yours to own, wholly and completely. sure, you keep your relationship with him fairly private, but the collar is your own way of staking claim on the man that is desired by everyone. what can you say? you’re a little territorial.

and maybe it makes your sex life just a bit more exciting.

yeonjun slams his sticks down on his drumset’s cymbals one final time before he’s ripping his in-ears out in order to hear the crowd. their screams heighten the adrenaline racing through his veins, his heart pounding against his ribcage so hard he thinks that it might burst from his chest. slick sweat shines against his bare, tanned skin under the blazing stage lights that illuminate him and the rest of the band. they blind the crowd from his eyes, but he can still hear the frenzied screams of “i love you!” and “fuck me please!” and the cries that beg them to continue the show — he eats it up, basks in the untouchable feeling as he stands on his chair and dramatically bows to his fans. hopping down to join the rest of his members at the front of the stage, they give their wild fans one last goodbye as the platform they stand upon begins to lower below the stage, each of them waving to fans. before he is fully off stage and the mic in his hand cuts off, he allows one last bellow of “thank you, chicago! good night!”

impatiently, he mumbles a quick “good job” to the other guys before he’s leaping off the moving platform, removing the stage gear that is strapped to his torso beneath his tank top and tossing it to the floor with little abandon. the staff can pick it up for him later, because all he can think about is finding you right now; he’s excited to hear what you think, always a glutton for your praises.

frantic eyes scan the crowded backstage area, trying to spot you amongst the sea of staff. his steps grow faster when he realizes you’re nowhere to be found, his heart racing for entirely different reason now. where are you? are you in his dressing room? are you fucking hiding from him?

“jjunie!”

his head whips around in a flash at the familiar call of his name, watching as you slink over to him in the most mouthwatering outfit he’s ever seen. your skintight black shirt leaves little to the imagination, with plunging cutouts that show off the curvature of your breasts and leave your navel bare, tucked into what can barely be called a mini skirt due to how little it covers. your eyes shine as you stare up at him, hands reaching up to cup his jaw before you pull him into a messy kiss full of teeth and tongue and passion, ignoring the chaos that whirls around your bodies. he moves down to trail his lips down your neck, but you stop him with a single finger slipping under his collar at the back of his neck, pulling him back by it. the feeling lights a fire within him.

“easy there, tiger,” you laugh, smirking as you meet his kohl-lined eyes. “we’re in public.”

“but baby,” he whines, hands wandering down to your ass, slipping under your skirt, and delivering a hard squeeze to the bare flesh. “need you s’bad.”

your tongue subconsciously runs over your front teeth while you watch his once clear eyes grow all hazy and hooded. brushing a thumb over his plump lips, you murmur, “so needy already, hm?” he nods, and you bite back a cruel comment. “then how about we go to your dressing room, pup?”

yeonjun feels the fire inside his stomach roar to life at the pet name, no longer just a tiny flame, but something all-consuming and desperate. the next few seconds pass as a blur as he makes a beeline towards his room, adorned with a star and his name. the door slams behind you, your back pressed to the wood soon after as he cages you in, his lips crashing against yours with fervor. he brazenly gropes at your exposed flesh, his already hardened cock pressing against your thigh through his jeans. he’s getting too bold, isn’t allowing you to lead — and you’re becoming annoyed.

your fingers find the thin strip of leather around his throat once more, pulling harder this time. he chokes at the feeling, fingers pressing deeper into your flesh, refusing to move as he diverts his attention back to your neck again. annoyance brews into a bubbling anger, your fingers leaving the collar to twist in his hair and yank. a yelp sounds from his throat at the tingly pain branching across his scalp.

“already forgetting who’s in charge, pup?” you grit out, pulling harder all the while. he releases a shaky breath, but doesn’t move to give you an answer. scoffing, your gaze sharpens. “get on your knees.”

“no,” he replies, defiance coloring his tone and expression. “i don’t wanna.”

you use your free hand to grip his chin. “don’t you want to cum tonight?”

“obviously,” he says, rolling his eyes.

squeezing his chin, your vision spots red, and you seethe, “then get on your fucking knees.”

he gives you a similar response as before. while yeonjun is usually obedient, there are times where he becomes too greedy, too bold in trying to steal the reins from you unrelenting hands — it seems tonight is one of those nights, but you know just how to put him back in his rightful place. he’s too easy, really.

without warning, you shove him away, stalking over to the other side of the room where your purse lies. you ignore his questions of what you are doing as you dig through the bag, quickly locating what you want: his leash. the black leather is cool against your skin as you wrap it around your hand, the clip held between deft fingers. it matches his collar perfectly; simple yet effective, you surmise. his eyes widen at the sight of you returning to where he stands with it in hand, mouth going dry as he realizes you aren’t in the mood to play tonight.

yeonjun freezes as the clip loops around the small chain that holds his collar together, biting his lips when you tug, testing the integrity. your expression betrays nothing of your inner thoughts, gaze steely and borderline bored — you refuse to look at him now, moving in silence. he feels a tug from behind now, and it presses the leather against his windpipe for a moment. his cock twitches, and he aches to touch himself, to relieve the unbearable pressure in his pelvis.

“i was gonna reward you tonight, y’know, for doing so well,” you sigh while you step in front of him again. your calm yet venomous tone sends tingles down his spine and more blood towards his center. you poke at the center of his chest before you continue. “but you decided to be a stupid little brat and not listen. so!”

you’re just being cruel now, but the pathetic furrow of his brow and the pout forming on his lips is the least of your concern at this point. you saunter over to the couch that sits in the middle of the room, bend over right in front of him, and slip your thong down your legs. behind you, he audibly gasps, both of your holes on proud display in front of his eyes. his attempt to surge forward is quickly thwarted, the length of his leash too short to even come close to reaching you, and he turns back to find that you have tied it to the doorknob. he reaches for the knot—

“don’t even try it,” you call. “that isn’t one you know, stupid pup.”

turning back to you, he finds you leaned back on the couch with your legs spread wide, perfectly manicured fingers slowly circling your clit. you emit a quiet moan as you tease yourself, hips rolling up into your fingers to search for more stimulation. gulping, he remains silent, focused on the way your entrance flutters around nothing.

“i get to touch, you get to watch,” you sigh, pressing harder against your bundle of nerves. “and don’t even think about touching yourself without permission.”

knees weak, he stands there, vision growing hazy around the edges at you prod and tease yourself, working yourself up at a painfully slow pace. he knows you’re doing it on purpose, but his cock is so hard and it’s so painful and he just wants to—

“put your hands back at your sides,” you order, further threats already pouring out of you before he can process the command. “or do you want a worse punishment? want me to go get your bandmates? i’m sure they’d love to fuck me, make you watch with no way to stop them from taking me, have them use me ‘til they’re satisfied— mh, just thinking about that is getting me close.”

across the room, yeonjun feels tears line his eyes. the fingers that have sunken into your entrance should be his. he should be the one between your legs right now, his lips wrapped around your clit and your thighs suffocating him until he’s dizzy on your taste and scent. he should be the one with his cock in you, not anyone else — and especially not his fucking bandmates. falling to his knees, a sob wracks his form, but you’re still not feeling particularly kind.

“aw, are you crying? you’re such a pathetic little thing, jjunie. can’t even listen to basic fucking orders, but you cry when you don’t get your way?"

the first tears slip down his face when your first orgasm hits you, your legs struggling to remain open as you whimper and whine, exaggerating your moans on purpose. you throw your head back and arch your spine, giving him a better view of your soaked hole as you ride out the waves of pleasure.

“‘m sorry,” he mumbles, cheeks streaked with tears and his head hanging low. his fingers dig into the meat of his thighs, but you can catch the shake of his fingers despite his grip.

of course, you heard him well enough, but you decide to feign ignorance. “what was that, pup? look at me when you speak.”

“i’m sorry!” he shouts, his pupils blown out and blurry with lust. “‘m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m sorry, please— please let me touch you, wanna make you feel good. i can’t—”

“you’re sorry now?” you interrupt, his head nodding up and down in rapid succession. “huh, i’m not sure if i believe you.”

“pleaseee!” your boyfriend sobs, disregarding anyone that may stand on the other side of the door, his voice thick and shaky. his collar has been pulled taut against his neck with how desperately he has tried to move towards you; his head is hazy and he can barely think about anything except pleasure, both his and yours. “please please please please—”

his begging continues as you rise from the cushions. you ignore the slight quake of your limbs, now leering over him while he stares back up at you, his shiny, swollen lips parted to allow soft pants to escape. crimson stains his cheeks and spreads down his neck, black streaks of ruined eyeliner mixing with it — an absolute painting.

extending a foot, you press the heel of your shoe against his erection. his jolts, a drawn-out whimper escaping him. your lips form a condescending pout as you press a little harder. “poor pup. so sensitive. so pathetic.”

“‘m not pathetic,” he whispers. with a single eyebrow raised and your head titled to the side, you crouch down to his level, gently gripping his chin.

“no?” you question softly. “then why are you so hard just from me degrading you?”

“‘m sorry, can’t— can’t help it.”

“aw, i know, baby.” you reach up to run your hand through his dusty rose hair, removing a few sweat-slicked strands from his forehead. “i’m gonna untie you. i want you to go sit on the couch, and take your pants and boxers off for me, okay?”

“m’kay.”

he does as promised once you untie the knot. he even went one step further and removed his tank top, his cock pressed against his abdomen, the entire shaft an angry red, his veins more pronounced than usual. precum beads at his tip, dribbling over the side of his cock. obediently, his hands lay at his sides against the cushions. his fingers curl as you undress.

you move to straddle his lap, cupping his face in your palms. “i’m gonna put it in, pup. you're gonna be good, right?”

he nods before he inhales sharply, your fingers touching him where he needs you most. you guide his leaky cock to your entrance with one hand, biting your lip as you begin to sink down on him. the stretch causes your head to spin and your walls to flutter around him. he whines. “don’t, ngh, don’t do that.”

“what? this?” you ask as you purposefully clench your walls. his whimper morphs into a shout when you sink down fully, taking him to the hilt and staying there. his dick presses against the spongy spot deep inside you, stretches your walls perfectly. your pussy was made to take him, just as he was made to listen to you.

the rhythmic grinding of your hips is enough to have him crying out, tears flowing down his face once again. you lean down to kiss them away, hands finding his and pressing them against the cushion on either side of his head. sighing in delight, you begin to fuck him faster, bouncing up and down on his cock. his mouth is frozen in a permanant ‘o,’ head thrown back while he bucks up into you.

“feel so good inside me, jjunie. so big,” you moan. he twitches inside you at the words, which spurs you to keep going. “such a dumb little thing, just need my pussy and you’re gone? have to have me think for you? so— fuck, so cute. you’re all mine, aren’t you?”

“y-yes! all yours, ‘m only yours!” he replies. you smile at the admission, releasing one hand to pull at his collar. his thighs begin to quake below you, muscles contracting and relaxing sporadically. you lean in to kiss him and swallow his loud moans, holding him close by the strip of leather. power paired with pleasure surges through your veins, pleased at his ruined state. you smile against his mouth.

“rub my clit,” you encourage, feeling his thumb move like lightning to the little bud, his sloppy circles causing your rhythm to falter. “i’m gonna cum, jjunie. want you to cum inside— fill me up, pup. don’t you want that too?”

“yes! yesyesyesyes-” he rambles and rambles until you feel him spill inside you, ropes of cum painting your walls and triggering your own orgasm, his cock pulsing inside you as he continues to cum. your walls flutter as you ride out your high, your fingers moving to press his face against your breasts. he kisses and sucks at the flesh between high-pitched whines until you finally come down, the pulsing of your walls ceasing. slowly, you lift yourself off him, ignoring how his seed spills from your hole and onto the couch. with one final peck to his lips, you adjust his collar and sit next to him, pulling him into an embrace and allowing him to bury his head into the junction between your neck and shoulder.

“did so good for me, jjunie. i’m so proud of you,” you murmur against his hair, rubbing soothing circles against his back. you gently rock him back and forth with you, making sure that he’s comfortable. “do you need anything, baby?”

“nuh-uh,” he says, voice vibrating against your skin. “just wanna be held.”

with a fond smile, you nod to yourself and squeeze him a little tighter.

masterlist

#txt smut #yeonjun smut #txt x reader #yeonjun x reader #txt imagines #yeonjun drabbles #txt timestamps #txt drabbles #txt hard thoughts #txt hard hours #yeonjun hard thoughts #yeonjun hard hours #yeonjun timestamps #agust.nsfw #💌 — jjun

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erinawritesheadcanons2 · 6 months

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Could I ask for either a poly or love triangle with the DreamTale twins? They’re my comfort characters and I’m not doing too well emotionally recently. Love what I’ve read of your work! Have a good day! <3

Nightmare Sans and Dream Sans Love Triangle Headcanons, Ink and Error Love Triangle, Underfell Sans and Underswap Sans Love Triangle

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A/N: Hello there @artsyfangirl! I hope you do not mind that I am adding Fell and Blueberry as well as Ink and Error. Just take it as a bonus for you since you don't really have a good day!

Warning: Cursing from Fell

Gender: Neutral

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Nightmare Sans and Dream Sans

Almost impossible because the two of them are different and we cannot forget that Dream Sans and Nightmare Sans would always fight with each other as Nightmare is the leader of Bad Sanses and Dream Sans is the leader of Star Sanses.

It is like a war because the two of them are going to end up fighting with each other despite the war between the Bad Sanses and the Star Sanses ended many years ago but it's not as aggressive between Ink and Error Sans

Dream Sans going to steal your attention by trying to make you laugh with his silly antics or his stupid but funny jokes as he would talk with you.

He would also try to steal your attention by giving small but meaningful gifts, something like little trinkets, keychains, or maybe a hand-made sweet ( I headcanon that Dream can bake).

And he would also always listen to you talking about anything even though he does not understand. He would try to understand them and give the response that you want but sometimes....it fails.

Unlike Dream, Nightmare is much less obvious when he tries to steal your attention away from Dream Sans. He would secretly tell you about all the bad things Dream did.

When Dream is not around, he keeps you in his room and not letting you go out but keeps you around as his tentacles would hold you. Sometimes, his words could make you turn red because he would whisper those 'You look dazzling my dear in this outfit but you look even more amazing if you don't wear them.' (AYO- WHAT THE FUCK)

Trying to impress you by showing you what Dream might not have but he has it (For example, if you love the library. He would allow you to read the books in there and he would be your tutor).

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The stars sparkle under the darkness of the sky and two creatures stand together to see all of the stars since the stars shine the brightest at twelve at midnight. A skeleton with a golden cape and light blue jacket standing close next to his crush. They/he/she has (H/C) hair colour with (H/L) hair length with a pair of mesmerizing (E/C) eye colours and (S/C) skin colour.

Using his powers and the staff he always brought around, he created a portal into the Outertale Universe, a place where the stars were brighter than ever, and dreams seemed to come to life. (Y/N) was completely captivated by the mesmerizing beauty of the Outertale Universe. The stars twinkled with an enchanting light, and the whole place exuded a sense of peace.

On the other realm were a pair of cyan eyes seeing the sight from the crystal ball. A skeleton with tentacles and goopy slime all over him watched his brother being romantic to (Y/N) from the shadows, jealousy brewing within him as he saw Dream Sans and (Y/N) together in the Outertale Universe.

It did not take much time for a dark and swirling portal to appear far away from where Dream Sans and (Y/N) stood together to enjoy the sight of the stars, and ominous black tentacles emerged. They snaked towards you, reaching out like a rubber band and wrapping around (Y/N).

The cold sensation around the waist made (Y/N) (L/N) gasps in aghast, horror, and surprise. It was tight enough so you could not escape from the grip but it was not hard enough to hurt you in any way since he did not want you to get hurt. Nightmare Sans, who had been lurking in the shadows, had seized this opportunity to snatch you away from Dream Sans

Dream Sans was taken aback, a mixture of shock and horror painted across his usually cheerful face. In the blink of an eye, the person with (H/C) hair colour and (S/C) skin colour was taken away from Dream Sans and Outertale, leaving him in a stupor. "Oh no! I should go to Nightmare's castle!" He pulled out the staff from his belt.

On the other side of the world, (Y/N) crosses her/his/their arms together and stares at the goopy skeleton with a black stare. You are clearly not amused by his little stunt. "What are you looking at, don't give me that look," Nightmare Sans rolls his pinpricks. "Really? Suddenly kidnapping me out of nowhere when I was hangout with Dream?" (Y/N) squints her/his/their eyes. "Ughh, what so great about Outertale? I can bring you there every day if you want. I could even bring you to a better place," Nightmare scoffs.

The battle between the two brothers raged on, neither willing to back down as they wanted your attention and no one else could have it. . As this pattern continued, (Y/N) grew increasingly not amused with Dream Sans and Nightmare Sans constantly kidnapping her/him/them out of nowhere.

The constant fighting between the two skeleton brothers had become more of a burden than a romantic pursuit, and they/she/he wished for a way to break free from this never-ending cycle. "You two really acting like five years old. I'm even more impressed nowadays kids seem to be more mature than you two," (Y/N) mutters.

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Ink Sans and Error Sans

If the love triangle between Nightmare and Dream Sans is already bad. Ink Sans and Error Sand would be much worse than those two because they would constantly FIGHT for your attention.

It is so bad that sometimes it feels like you could just take a chair and popcorn just to watch the drama between these two because they would fight for anything, not just your attention.

Ink Sans when trying to get your attention is by bringing you to the portal and showing you all of the beautiful Alternate Universes to impress you since he is the protector of Aus.

He would also just steal you away when you have free time to draw together with him. Sometimes, he would throw bits of compliments on your drawing, even if it was bad. He just likes your creativity.

He would also try to create something out of his paintbrush, small gifts maybe something adorable such as plushies and giving it to you to make you happy.

Error Sans is not as romantic as Ink Sans sadly so he had difficulty stealing your attention but I can see that he would bring you to some beautiful AUS despite him being an AU's destroyer, to watch the star.

Protects you from the other skeletons surprisingly and not letting anyone touch you, especially Ink Sans as he glares at the protector of AU's since he knows Ink also has a crush on you.

Also, he's a bit of a bully. To get your attention, he would make fun of you and give you tons or ridiculous nicknames just to piss you off and he's always amused each time you react to him.

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On the small beanbag inside of the living room, a person with (H/C) hair colour with (H/L) hair length and a pair of (E/C) eye colour as well as (S/C) skin colour sitting on it with books sprawled around the small chair. (Y/N) had been enjoying a peaceful afternoon, nestled comfortably in the bean bag. Their/her/his eyes scan every word of the book.

The room was bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun, the perfect ambience for your novel. You had just begun to immerse yourself in the world of words when, out of nowhere, a mysterious portal appeared in the corner of the room. The portal was glowing with the colour of the rainbow decorating it.

Startled by the sudden appearance of the portal, (Y/N) dropped their book, their heart racing. From the portal emerged the skeleton with a spot of ink on his cheek, a giant paintbrush on his back and a giant brown cape draped on his back. The protector of the multiverse as he would protect the universes from certain skeletons.

"Hey (Y/N)!" Ink said cheerfully, a wide smile on his face. "What are you doing?" "I was just reading, Ink. What's going on?" Still, a bit bewildered by the unexpected visit, (Y/N) stammered to Ink Sans. "Well, I had this idea for some collaborative drawing, and I thought, who better to join me than you? We could create something amazing together!" Ink's pinpricks twinkled in excitement.

(Y/N) was initially hesitant because the books that you had been reading had not finished and it was in the chapter where the main character faced their rival. But the idea of spending time drawing and the thought about the possibility of creating art together with Ink sounded fun too. "Sure, why not? Let's go," (Y/N) agreed with a smile.

With a bright smile, Ink Sans gestured for (Y/N) to follow him back through the portal and leave behind the book that (Y/N) still had not finished. But all of that excitement was gone as (Y/N) and Ink went inside the portal. Unsurprisingly, there is another guest who was not invited by Ink. "Oh no....you gotta be kidding me," Ink sighs.

The skeleton stepped off from the strings once he saw Ink and (Y/N) on the ground. The familiar black skeleton with a black coat, blue hood and black slippers strutted up to both Ink Sans and (Y/N). "iT HaS BeEn SuCh a LonG Time Isn'T it? bUddY?" A smug smile spread across his face. "Error, Leave us alone. You had already spent time with (Y/N) yesterday. Today is my turn," Ink Sans rolls his pinpricks. "NaAh. I Don't ThiNK sO," Another portal appears behind him.

Ink Sans quickly took the giant paintbrush from his back so he could create a shield for you but he was too late because the strings were wrapped on every one of your limbs. Error Sans created another portal of his own and, with (Y/N) wrapped on his strings, stepped into it, disappearing from Ink's realm.

You couldn't help but let out a sigh of frustration. Turning to Error Sans, he was smirking and holding you as if you were his captive. "Error, you know we spent time together yesterday. You could have given Ink a chance. This isn't fair to him," you scold him,your irritation was evident in your tone.

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❀

Underfell Sans and Underswap Sans

A love triangle between Underfell Sans, You, and Underswap Sans might be a little ridiculous because it feels like you are taking care of a skeleton that acts like a golden retriever and also some kind of skeleton that acts like an emo with anger issues.

The other one is going to bully you just to get your attention and just to see your reaction and the other one is trying to hog all of your attention and will follow you everywhere.

Underswap Sans can be a little bit of an attention seeker because he would try to make tacos ( and end up burning all of them or using the wrong condiment and creating something inedible).

If you are busy, would give you that sad look on you before begging you to hang out with him and when Underfell was too late to ask you, he would secretly smirk.

He actually knows that he does look innocent and cute despite he hate of getting called cute but when Fell was angry at him and you saw him. He will use his cuteness to get you on his side.

Underfell Sans can be a bully just like Error Sans but a little bit worse because he won't just be calling you ridiculous names. He would make you dress up for a deal, make you watch a scary movie, and be a menace.

Not surprisingly he would bring you to Grillby's bar to hang out with you and surprisingly he asked Grilly to help him out. Even though, he would end up having more tabs. He would pay for your meals and drinks as he wants you to taste the monster food too.

Underfell Sans also steals your attention by playing games together with you. I believe he knows many great games and he always invites you to play a multiplayer game with him.

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The temperature of the kitchen is rising as the sun goes up in the middle of the day, a person with luscious (H/C) hair and striking (E/C) eyes sat in the kitchen, typing away on your computer. The soft glow of her screencast a warm, amber hue across your face, illuminating the (E/C) eye colours.

It had been a long day, and they/she/he was racing against the clock to finish the mountain of files that had been assigned to her/him/them by the old-bladed head manager. But it won't stop nature from doing its job as (Y/N)'s stomach chooses this inopportune moment to growl with hunger.

You could not help but let out a quiet sigh, torn between your desire for food or the commitment to completing the tasks that had piled up. (Y/N) knew that they/she/he couldn't afford to lose any more time, but the rumbling stomach seemed to have other plans. With a heavy heart, (Y/N) decided to take a brief break.

She/he/they stood up from the chair and stretched their/her/his tired limbs and (Y/N) knew a hungry tummy would only distract the process of working and finishing the papers. In the fridge, you found some leftover chicken and colourful bell peppers. It was the perfect opportunity to whip up something quick and satisfying.

Before (Y/N) could make something, you could hear someone scream, "Mwehehehee! The magnificent blue is here!" Startled, (Y/N) turns around to see Underswap Sans. "Oh, hey Blue. Do you need anything?" (Y/N) tilts their/her/his head a little bit in curiosity. "Human! I heard your stomach grumbling! It was quite loud, human! how 'bout I whip up some tasty tacos for you??" The skeleton asks.

(Y/N) couldn't help but glance up at the ceiling, remembering that the Jolly Skeleton wasn't the best cook. His previous attempt at making tacos had been a disaster, he managed to burn them, and then, in a whimsical attempt to salvage the situation, he had sprinkled glitter on the charred mess. (Y/N) had tried to be polite and take a bite, but it had been quite a horrible mistake.

As (Y/N) hesitated, contemplating whether to accept his offer or not, the door to the kitchen from the living room was suddenly slammed open, causing both Underswap Sans and (Y/N) to jump in surprise. Standing in the doorway was Underfell Sans. "Oi, loser, You said you're hungry? Why don't we get some grillby on the corner? The dumb baby tacos aren't edible for your intestine," Underfell Sans grumbled as he glanced at Underswap Sans.

(Y/N) felt relieved as Underfell Sans gave a solution or an easy way out of the situation. You didn't want to hurt Underswap Sans's feelings, but you also didn't want to endure another round of eating burnt glittery tacos. (Y/N) turned to Underswap Sans and gave him a grateful smile. "Thanks for the offer, Sans, but I think I'll go with Underfell Sans this time. I'm craving for French fries," You told him. "B-but those are unhealthy! They have so much grease!" Underswap Sans said.

Underswap Sans couldn't hide the disappointment that washed over him when (Y/N) rejected his offer. He let out a resigned sigh and watched as Underfell Sans escorted (Y/N) out of the kitchen. There was a pang of sadness in his eye sockets before his eyes shifted to Underfell Sans who silently glared at him, puffing his cheeks altogether.

He turned to look at Underfell, who was secretly smirking at him. Underfell was well aware that he had managed to steal (Y/N)'s attention away, and the competitive edge between the two skeletons continued to burn.

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❀

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cidnangarlond · 6 months

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some of these r people I made up some are based on actual mutuals or inspired by posts if not directly drawn from them but know I came up with these out of love. I love uuu my mutuals

mutual 1: made more art of the war criminal as a catboy in the style of Cabanel's The Fallen Angel. drawn in a fugue state in 2 hours

mutual 2: wrote a little poem as I waited at the bus stop *one of the most heart-wrenching poems you've ever read*

mutual 3: I NEED SLOPPY FROM THAT OLD MAN NOW‼️

mutual 4: I NEED SLOPPY FROM THAT OLD WOMAN NOW‼️

mutual 5: inventing a new kind of drug *photo of a joint made from columbo-themed rolling papers*

mutual 6: if this team scores against mine again I'm flying to their stadium to personally blow them all up

mutual 7: now see her sillay *photo of their cat everyone knows by name*

mutual 8: now see her sillay *photo of their car on fire*

mutual 6: which one of y'all reported me to the authorities I WAS JOKING

mutual 9: dnd session today if glumpus and glumpo don't resolve their sibling issues and put it behind them then the world is gonna end they are LITERALLY having this much beef and a character is already dead in the middle of this fight to save the world

mutual 10: I'm gonna have glumpo fuck old woman cheddar tonight

mutual 11: they were insane for this one *screenshot of them listening to the alphabet on youtube*

mutual 12: look at my son *oc everyone knows by name and loves*

mutual 13: hey guys staff terminated me again because they said my repeating replying to dumb as shit tumblr ads with the wikipedia article text for japanese giant salamanders was "harassment" reblog to help me find my followers again

mutual 14: hey guys my blog got nuked because I told a proshipper to kill themselves reblog to help me find my followers again

mutual 15: *callout post for mutual 14*

mutual 16: *20 reblogs in a row of art of dio brando with huge tits*

mutual 17: did a quick makeup test for the show! only took me half an hour this time ^_^ *photos of intricate professional-level work to make them look like a skeleton*

mutual 18: going to the arctic to find out if those men fucked on the doomed expedition wish me luck 👍🏻

mutual 19: hey guys we haven't heard from mutual 18 in a week I think they were serious

mutual 20: i think i hauve covid *photo of a sheet of white paper*

mutual 21: if I don't get to see this band in concert I'm making a pipe bomb (FOR LEGAL REASONS THIS IS /J)

mutual 22: got high with my manager on break and why's he kinda... like he's married (for now) butWIAT THE BUILDING IS ON FIRE

mutual 18: in the arctic just killed a seal. I've never felt more alive

mutual 23: just got to heavensward sooo excited to play this expac... heard it's crazy good

mutual 24: hey mutual 23 what do you think about haurchefant

mutual 23: he's my favorite. why

mutual 25: DYING POSTPONED I JUST HAD THE BEST SOUP EVER!!!!!!!!

mutual 26: LOOK AT MY WOL BOY *picture of their warrior of light with massive boobs*

you: awesome *reblogs it*

#addendum the war criminal mentioned he's fictional I'm not. mutuals w someone drawing art of real ones. before anyone says anything #because I know how people can be sometimes. anyway

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 4 months

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Someone Like You

Pairing: Billy Taylor (The Halcyon) x f!reader Warnings: Mild angst, handjob, smut. Word count: ~1.4k

Summary: The Halcyon is hosting its Christmas Eve party for its guests, and her and Billy are both feeling the pressure of being rushed off their feet. They find a moment of respite alone together.

Author's note: A part two of my first Smuffmas entry. Day eleven of the Smuffmas prompts - "a fancy party and praising". No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications.

It has been twelve days since her and Billy had decorated the staff sitting room. Twelve long, miserable days since she had last felt his lips upon hers and the way he’d rutted against her, not that she’s counting. They have scarcely had a chance to see each other in the lead up to Christmas. Beyond shy smiles and blushes exchanged in passing, they’ve had no other interaction. But that’s not for lack of wanting to or trying. The mistletoe she’d rescued has remained in her apron pocket, primed for an opportune moment.

December is always the busiest time of year for the hotel. People want to celebrate in style, and so they check in to the Halcyon to be waited on hand and foot. She’s not sure what it is about Christmas that drives people to make the most outlandish demands of the staff, but it has stolen away her festive cheer. She is exhausted.

It’s Christmas Eve and the day has been spent preparing for the annual party they host for the guests who will be staying with them on the big day itself. On top of turning down rooms, and helping the kitchen staff to prepare food, she’s now expected to serve drinks at the party itself.

The staff who are married with children have been given Christmas off to spend with their families, so The Halcyon is operating on a skeleton crew of the young and the single, her and Billy are unlucky enough to find themselves among them.

She weaves her way through the bar, abuzz with the sound of laughter and the clinking of glasses. Every surface seems to glitter with decorations, amplified by the muted lighting of the lamps that adorn the centre of each table.

Nodding and smiling politely each time a guest relieves her of a saucer of champagne that rests on the heavy tray she carries around the room, she breathes a withering sigh once it’s finally empty. Her feet ache with how many passes she’s made around the crowded space, yet there’s no time to rest. She has to collect the empties and take them back to the kitchen to be washed, so that they can be refilled anew by the bar staff. It seems never ending.

Doing a quick scan of the bar, she can see that Kate and Feldman are circling the room with drinks and canapés, so she’ll be fine to leave for a little while to wash up some glasses. The food prep has already been done, so the kitchen is empty, save for the staff going in to refresh plates and glassware.

The empties rattle precariously against each other on her tray as she walks carefully back to the kitchen, her burden suddenly seeming not quite so great as she spots Billy doing exactly the same thing. He’s clad in his usual bellboy uniform, though is without his cap, a means to help him blend in with the rest of the serving staff.

He pushes his tray onto the draining board next to the sink, and a glass wobbles, toppling off and shattering loudly against the hard linoleum of the kitchen floor.

“Ah– shit!” He grumbles, kneeling to pick up the pieces.

She quickly deposits her own tray onto the food prep table and kneels to help him.

“It’s okay, Billy, it’s just a glass,” she reassures him, picking up some of the larger shards and depositing them into the bin beneath the sink.

“I know, I know,” he replies with a sigh, “but I can’t seem to get anything right today.”

“How do you mean?” She asks, righting herself and brushing her hands on her skirt as he reaches for a dustpan and brush to sweep up the rest of the mess.

“Spilled champagne all down a lady’s frock just now, broke a glass,” his brow furrows as he brushes the broken pieces into the pan and empties it into the bin. “Brought the wrong luggage to the wrong room earlier too.”

She watches as he stands again, chucking the dustpan and brush to one side, and she offers him a sympathetic smile. “It’s our busiest time of year, everyone makes mistakes. I forgot to fold the toilet paper into a point in the Royal Suite earlier, and Mrs. Garland gave me a right earful.”

He tugs awkwardly at the bottom of his bellboy uniform, his mouth turned downwards, as is his gaze. “Yeah…but…I’m gonna be drafted next year. If I can’t get this job right, how am I gonna manage to defend our country? I’m useless.”

Her brows pinch together in concern, stepping forward to gently cup Billy’s cheek. It’s soft and warm against her palm, growing warmer still beneath her touch. “Oi, don’t talk like that. You’re doing a fine job. And you’re so brave, I know I’ll feel safer having you protecting us all.”

His blue eyes flit up to meet hers, wide and filled with uncertainty. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, Billy, I think you’re wonderful.”

He huffs a soft chuckle, turning pink as he pulls away slightly, lips pressed into a tight smile. “I dunno about that…”

“Well, I do,” she reaches into her apron pocket, pulling out the mistletoe she’s kept stashed there since their first kiss. “See? I’ve been saving this in the hopes we’d use it again.”

Billy visibly softens, shoulders pulling away from his ears, and he steps towards her, hands gripping her waist as he presses his lips to hers. It’s a slow, soft, lingering kiss that they hold for a few moments, before he reluctantly breaks away. It sets her pulse racing and she wraps both her arms around his neck to keep him close.

“Anyone could walk in,” he whispers, his eyes searching her face uncertainly.

“They won’t though. They’re all busy.”

She kisses him again, and this time they are both more eager as he backs her up against the sink. She smiles into it, the mistletoe she’d been holding absentmindedly falling from her fingers and onto the floor behind them.

His excitement grows more apparent as he presses against her, and she drops an arm down between them to palm at him through his grey trousers.

He groans, pressing his forehead against hers. “We shouldn’t…”

“But you want to?”

“God…yes…yes!”

His voice is a strained whisper, causing excitement to flutter hotly in her lower belly. She uses both hands to unbuckle his belt, before unzipping his trousers and snaking her fingers into his underwear to wrap around his hardened length.

Her eyes widen slightly in surprise. Though she’d felt it as he’d ground against her the first time they’d kissed, it’s another thing entirely to have her hand on it. Billy is impressively well endowed.

“So big,” she coos, her thumb swiping over the wetness that’s gathered at the tip.

His head falls against her shoulder with a gasp, and his grip on her waist tightens as she slowly strokes her hand up and down, dragging the foreskin along with it, feeling every ridge and vein.

“So good for me, Billy, you’re so good.”

She speeds up her movements and his head tilts back slightly, eyes screwed shut and lips parted, as he breathes raggedly. “Oh god…please…”

Smirking, she leans in, lips brushing the shell of his ear. “Have you ever been with a woman, Billy?”

“N–no,” he pants, hips canting to chase the movement of her hand.

“Do you think about it when you touch yourself?”

“Yeah…I…I think about you.”

She clenches around nothing at the confession, biting her lip, twisting her wrist slightly as she pumps at his cock.

“Is that what you want?”

He whines slightly, nodding and pulling her closer, a strand of his gelled hair falling forward against his forehead. “Mmmm…I want you.”

“Such a good boy,” she purrs. “Perhaps if you ask nicely then that’s what you’ll get for Christmas.”

She feels his stomach muscles tense, a grunt escaping him as he pulsates in her palm, coating her knuckles in hot, sticky spend.

Withdrawing her hand, she licks it from her fingers, the taste slightly salty, and hums in satisfaction.

He stares at her, chest heaving and eyes wide, transfixed by the sight.

“Are you real?” He asks breathlessly.

She giggles, brushing his stray strand of hair back into place. “If you do a good job for the rest of this evening, perhaps I’ll let you find out.”

#billy taylor x reader #ewan mitchell #billy taylor #billy taylor x you #billy taylor x y/n #billy taylor imagine #billy taylor smut #billy taylor the halcyon #the halcyon billy taylor #billy taylor fan fiction #billy taylor fanfiction #billy taylor fanfic #billy taylor fan fic #the halcyon #the halcyon fan fiction #the halcyon fanfiction #the halcyon fan fic #the halcyon fanfic

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oreosmama · 1 year

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Look Me in the Eyes (Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Reader)

*GIF not mine*

Summary: During naval training, your jet crashed and burned, taking your memories with it. But the lieutenant who saved you seems to know you better than he lets on. The only issue is that he refuses to tell you his name.

A/N: pfft half yall don’t read this anyway so imma just say rooster’s hot, oreosmama out *drops mic*

Word count: 3345

It’s not the pervading scent of antiseptic and boredom that has carved its way into your skin, nestling deep into the creases of your brow and your sneering upper lip—

It’s his unflinching gaze.

The lieutenant hovering over you, with a spoonful of green, gelatinous “dinner” posed over your lips, mumbles, “Open the hatch, the F-18 needs to land.”

He’s a staunchly built man ornamented in the same naval jacket he’d been wearing when you first came-to in the hospital room, his lofty shoulders embellished in unfamiliar patches. Over the last two days, most of which have consisted of him lording himself over you or sitting back in the chair beside your bed, his five o’clock shadow has thickened, and the wrinkles underneath his teasing eyes darkened a shade.

The F-18 bumps against your sneer, and he chortles to himself.

You know why you’re here.

Well, sort of.

You know that it must’ve hurt. Like a falling-unconscious-due-to-pain kind of hurt. Black and blue splotches paint your temple and upper left cheek, and each time you force a smile, it aches. The rest of your body looks the same. In the first shower you’d been allowed, you twisted and turned as much as your burning abdomen could handle and had come to the conclusion that you were glad you didn’t remember much of what had happened.

The only real issue was that you didn’t remember much of anything.

The story you had been told was haphazardly crafted, not unlike if a toddler had drawn a house with crayons and passed it to you, insisting it looked exactly like the one you lived in.

It goes something like this: you were flying your jet when the engine stalled, and when you ejected, your head smacked against the windshield. You were lucky—you were unconscious when you had crumpled in on yourself, snapping five of your ribs like pencils, and when you’d landed on the ground, face in the dirt—you were so, so lucky.

But the lieutenant says differently.

When he found you, you were awake. You were echoing his name into the stagnant desert air, screaming and sobbing in ways that still keep him up at night.

You know because he sleeps with folded arms on the edge of your mattress, and he rattles the metal skeleton each time he flinches. And the times when he thinks you’re too buried in exhaustion and slumber, his hand finds yours, fingertips light as air against your skin.

These are the only times the lieutenant bares that part of himself to you.

In the mornings, when you can look him in the eyes and see the guilt buried underneath, he winces a smile onto his lips and asks if you remember anything yet.

You don't.

And he winces again. “Back to the drawing board, huh?”

The lieutenant is a nice-enough man when he wants to be. The only issue is that he doesn’t seem to want to be.

“Tell me your name,” you snipe, dangling over the precipice of flinging Jell-O across the room.

This is a game he never wants to play, despite how often he wins. He has the whole naval base’s hospital staff refer to him as Sir or Lieutenant-no-last-name, and each time you ask, he’ll give you the same response.

“You know my name.”

You don't. He’s a complete stranger. He can hold you hand and feed you Jell-O and help you hobble to the bathroom; he can brush the hair from your sweat-crusted face in the mornings and, on some rare occasions where he thinks he’s woken up before you, he’ll graze a feather-soft kiss on your bruised temple.

And you still haven't got a clue.

Because whoever the lieutenant is, the tight grip he has on your heart is completely foreign to you. It’s a grip that says you and him aren’t just something definable—you were a we in this life; the pair of you have formed a way of living in tandem, your own intrinsic tango to which nobody else knows the steps. It’s not just like or a passing fancy. It’s not just hot static running through veins.

This is fully fledged; this is oxygen now. The rise and fall of your chest is the rise and fall of his. The absence of it must be suffocating.

So you don't know why he doesn’t like this game. He makes a question-answer into a back-and-forth, and then he winds and winds you up until you’re ready to snap.

It’s not fair. God, it’s not fair. You deserve to know his name. Doesn’t he know it’s not just a tickle in the back of your mind anymore? If he was the one whose name you were screaming, didn’t you deserve to know what it was?

“Why do you keep doing this?”

You watch his lips purse, the color bleeding out of them and into pink patches on his neck and cheeks. The spoon rattles against the tray, and the glob of green wavers in its curve. He refuses to hold your gaze like always. Self-inflicted torment disguises itself as burnt-sienna irises. The life you’ve forgotten is bowing his shoulders, and your crash, no matter the fact that he saved you, is eating away at him.

Then the lieutenant smiles, in the fractured way—the way someone might laugh at a funeral.

“Because knowing my name wouldn’t help you. You never called me by it, anyway.”

This, oh God—this is the closest you’ve ever gotten, and you’re still wading in the darkness. A name you’d never even call him by, what a wonder that does to your psyche.

A name was a start; it was a first impression. There was a lot in a name.

So you’d never called him by his name… so what?

So what, only lovers knew each other by more than a name? So what, he never called you by yours? So what, you didn’t want to ever call him by his name, never felt the urge, but felt it was rather proper considering you didn’t know what to call him at all?

He keeps you doggy-paddling for it.

The hospital room is polluted with silence for the rest of the night. Slowly, you finish the Jell-O as he sits back in his chair, watching, yet not quite seeing you. You missed when his staring felt like a buzzing fly. Now it’s a thunderstorm hanging over you, foggy and dampened, and you’re struck every few seconds with a shiver.

He doesn’t reach out for your hand when you pretend you’ve fallen asleep. Twenty minutes past lights out, he stands and heads into the bathroom, slowly creaking the door closed and locking it before the shower faucet turns on and stays on for a long, long time.

Where his hand should be is where he laid his jacket, one sewn patch erroneously rough against your palm. With another glance at the light underneath the bathroom door, you haul the leather jacket up into your lap, tracing the ridges and folds. You trails your fingertips along the jacket, searching for… something. Anything.

Cold metal, a zipper slips underneath your fingers, and you sit up straighter despite the outcry of pain in your ribs.

A pocket, and inside is a small plastic card—his ID.

That, and a small, velvet box.

No…

No, you won’t open it.

No, no, because he shouldn’t even have that here.

Why—dear God—why did he have that here?

It’s not for you. That’s for sure. You don’t even want to open it. No.

It’s not yours. It’s not yours to have, especially since he hasn’t offered it to you, and it’s not yours to wear, and it’s not yours to look at, to watch, iridescent, crystal devotion reflecting the moonlight from the room’s lone window.

But when you lift the cover and curse the stars that the man whose name you don’t even know knows you so well, knows how beautiful it is in your eyes, and even worse, how well it fits on your finger, you know it’s yours.

Well, not yours.

It’s hers. The one before the crash’s.

That’s her ring on your finger, and that’s her lieutenant grieving in the bathroom.

This is her life, not yours. All you own anymore is the absence pulsing in your chest.

You own the spasms in your veins, the brief and lasting panic of who am I, really?, the deficiency of life and past and love; the frail hold on this reality, on that man, on this ring.

The rest is not yours, so you should let it go.

Then, ideally, you should be able to float away, free from these junctions to a girl you don’t know. The man who loves her loves your face. He loves your body, and your voice, and each of the words falling from your lips, perhaps in the wrong order, yes, but he’ll rearrange them in his mind so that it matches hers.

Ideally.

Ideally, it’s not this drowning feeling, a weight like a hand pressing hard against your chest, shoving you deeper and deeper under the current. She’s the one who breathes, not you. You don’t need to breathe. You’re an accident in this world.

The I.D. slips from your grasp and falls to the floor.

You’ve read it. You saw the name, the rank, the naval symbol. In the dim moonlight and the single glowing strip underneath the bathroom door, his not-really-a-smile smiles up at you from the vinyl floor.

And now you see it, chrome duct tape peeling off the jagged stitches of a patch, the one over his heart. Another of his games: his missing call sign.

It… fits him. Strangely enough.

Is this what you called him?

The hospital room floods with a subdued yellow light carried out by the steam of the lieutenant’s shower. He emerges with a towel wrapped around his lower body, a sheen of wet on his cheeks you’re not certain was caused by the shower.

Like you, this is his third shower in this room, but unlike him, he’s not wearing a smirk when he exits, bare feet padding along the cold tiles. He doesn’t spare you a glance while he pilfers through his black duffle bag, the one seated on the only other guest chair in the room—the one that never moves.

Maybe it was a good thing he didn’t look, because you hadn’t thought to take off the ring. It was a plan as half-baked as when you’d first decided to put it on. Some barbaric, frenzied part of you, the same one that had slipped it on and hugged it close to your heart, refused to yank it off. It was another you—not her nor you, but a new one that had fallen in love with him, Rooster, without memory or qualms, the one that had no issue with him lingering in every corner of your mind; no, in fact, she preferred it.

You don’t listen to her when the lieutenant pivots back to face you, a fresh pair of jeans, a T-shirt, and the rest sourced from the duffel bag in tow, one fist curled into his towel at his waist. His eyes land on yours, and your fingers slicken with the sweat of your palms, tremble like the thumps beneath your ribcage.

At the worst moment possible, you notice, in the hazy yellow light of 10:07 PM, that Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw’s eyes are achingly akin to whiskey. It’s the dark, thick kind that coats your tongue and hits you five seconds after you sip it like a freight train; heady, terribly intoxicating, and in large doses, coaxes out the worst side of yourself at an even worse moment.

The ring clinks against the bed’s metal framework before shuddering against the tile floor, and his eyes leave yours to watch it rattle. The skin of your left ring finger burns from the swift twisting and tugging you’d employed in a state of tipsy panic—your plan had been to slip the ring unnoticed beneath his leather jacket, the same place you’d stuffed the velvet box.

A breath tears itself out of the lieutenant’s chest. Tan skin rises and falls once, and his grip goes white-knuckle on his towel.

Then he pads back toward the bathroom without a word and disappears behind the slammed door. Somehow, in some terrible way, it is even harder to breathe with him not in the room after that.

But he bursts through the door a second later, completely negligent of the violent pacing of your heart, donned in clothes wrinkled and stretched in odd places from frantic dressing. He covers the distance with three long strides and slackens back into the plastic hospital chair, the heavy creases under his eyes never having looked so deep-seated.

You see it now. The damage this whole experience has done to him. He’s been hollowed out, rigorously gutted to the point that one last revelation might finally crack him in half and let the despair pour out.

You’re afraid to tell him all that you don’t know. That even though you had slid that ring on and off your finger, you still don’t know him. But, God, you want to tell him that you love him, despite knowing it won’t be enough. It’s not even enough to you, and it’s all that you have.

Usually, he wears this sheen layer of tenderness over his face; it slips off every night when you close your eyes, and he smooths it back on in the mornings in the mirror. Some days he layers it on so thick you never even notice the grief hidden underneath.

It must have gotten too heavy to bear.

The silence hangs just as heavy. He runs both hands down his face, pressing hard enough that his skin emerges pink, and folds his hands, knocking them against his lips. Veins in his eyes grow redder by the second, and your heart begins a slow crawl up your throat at the watery levels of his eyelines, waiting to spill. The ring sits on the floor untouched.

“Do you,” he faltered, clearing his throat. “Do you… remember anything?”

He’s looking at you so intensely that your skin is searing. Shame washes over you, grasping your shoulders and burying you deeply into its chest. You want to cry.

“Nothing.”

The lieutenant stares at you a second longer, stretching it out until you’re trembling. Then he looks away, down, before reaching and retrieving the ring from the ground. He observes it for just a second, the way it glimmers in night’s imperfect lighting, and his eyes squeeze shut.

Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw, you’ve learned, will draw things out until the perfect moment has come. He will wait until the ache swells and culminates, with a tolerance so inexhaustible you wonder if, in all your time loving him, you ever bothered to wait up. He’s noticed how the darkness has swallowed both of you wholly, and only now does he offer reprieve.

Bradley tells you your name.

And he tells you that he’s been in love with you since the first second he saw you.

He tells you that he can’t bear the thought of losing all that you’d had, and that his world had been crumbling apart before his own goddamned eyes ever since your jet’s engine had sputtered and died. He tells you that he’s so, so fucking sorry he couldn’t save you, sorry that your life ever got entangled so messily with his in the first place, and even more sorry that he’s so useless to help you find your way back, that you can’t seem to find your way back to him.

And when you began to cry, he bolted up from his seat and held you, whispering apologies into your hair, and you cried a little harder, because you had found your way back to him, but he wouldn’t ever care, because it wasn’t the same path you’d taken before.

You cry because it hurts to hold him, and even more because it hurts him to hold you. You want all of the I-love-yous he’s ever said to be for you, and you want that damned ring too.

You want that goddamn ring on your finger right now because he’d promised you that it would be yours. That first moment he’d ever seen you, stumbling drunk in a crowded Hard Deck and spilling his beer half on his Hawaiian shirt, half on yours, that he’d make up for it by putting a spendy ring on your little finger right there, despite not actually knowing where right there was. The only one I’ll ever buy, he’d hiccuped, it’ll be yours, darlin’.

“Rooster,” you croaked into his chest. “Roo.”

A provoked sob tore from your throat, your arms and ribs aching from how tightly you clung to him, even after he froze. You surfaced from the curve of his shoulder, hands sliding past his sides, over his thrumming chest, and up to cradle his damp jawline before drawing his face down to yours. He mumbled your name, whiskey eyes potent as ever, and you smothered the rest of his question against your lips.

You couldn’t tell who was crying anymore. Your cheeks’ dampness was his, just the same as his lips pressed against yours so harshly, so numbingly you couldn’t quite tell where yours ended and his began. It must have been somewhere close to where his tongue met yours, making up for lost time as he fought hard and fiercely for everything he’d been starved of for three, going on four, unbearable days. His hands left their leverage against the bed and latched onto your hips, rough fingertips familiarly caressing the soft slopes of your sides, and when you offered an airy moan to him, he accepted eagerly with a tightening grip.

You separated from him with a small cry, ribs twinging. Bradley pulled away in horror, and his dilated pupils struggled to sober up to join. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, larger hands now grappling at yours and trying to remove your grasp. “You need—ice, I’ll go get you some ice–”

“Roo, no,” you mumbled, refusing to let go of him.

He paused, and his body shivered under your touch. The familiarity of his name from your mouth seemed as comforting to him as it was to you. His lips twitched and curled, and he breathed a small sigh. The hard lines of his face grew tender as he slid his hands down to your wrists, turning and pressing a kiss to each palm.

His heart jumped and throbbed against your fingertips, and you had no doubt he could feel the same from yours. The heat of his damp cheeks had grown infinitely warmer under your touch, and for all the nights you’d spent with just a grasp on his hand, the change was more and more welcome.

“Don’t leave me again,” he pleaded against the skin of your palm, voice thick and bittersweet, like honey seeping through your ears. “I don’t think I can handle that again.”

He steeled himself against your mattress with one hand when you tugged his forehead down against yours, lips just whispering against one another. You smiled.

“Was it all the Jell-O that did you in, or…?”

“Yeah, actually,” he nodded, tongue pressed against his cheek. “It was. I hope you know we’re never having Jell-O in our house ever again.”

“Not even lime?”

“Especially lime.”

You huffed, “Fine.” You pulled away, despite how desperate Bradley was to follow you. He let you fall back against the pillows with your hand still in his grasp, and he settled onto the edge of the mattress, letting his spare hand find home in the pliant skin of your thigh. Your eyes rose to the ceiling. “But it’ll cost you.”

Soft lips brushed the back of your left hand before cold metal slipped around your finger. “One of these?”

“Exactly.”

Bradley hummed. “Gladly.”

#top gun x reader #rooster x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster #bradley bradshaw #top gun: maverick x reader #tgm x reader #tgm #tgm rooster #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader

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clarks-letterman · 16 days

Text

a stab at it | johnny slaughter x gn!reader

a/n — I had the writing itch and this came to me, started as a vague fic before turning into a Johnny one, so the plot is probably crappy. making up for my April fools fic!!!! (accept this as an apology)

summary — Johnny comes into the diner you work at late at night.

words — 1.4k

warnings — mentions of blood, possibly out of character!Johnny, swearing

~~~

The diner with no name. A pit stop on the way to bigger, brighter places like Austin or Dallas. No one cared about Newt besides the people who lived in it, and the diner was so far out of the way for anyone who lived in between the spaced-out houses for anyone from up that way to come around. It became the sweet spot for foreigners because it was closer to them than it was to where, legally, this place could be held in contempt.

The customers without faces. They stuff everything into little pockets of life that are designed to be unremarkable. Their outlines don't leave a lasting impact. The red, cushioned seating of each booth and stool doesn't leave an indent of their presence, of their scent. It wears off when the next dull-faced person comes in and orders the special to feel special, but in reality, they're like everyone else. The money they pay with is monopoly; kiddish, fast-change for a faster leave. Everyone accepts it but you need to be a special kind of person to work here. Their silhouettes as they leave are untraceable beyond the set of glass doors at the entrance. Vibrant purple lighting casts down on them and is usually diffracted by the soft yellow headlights of rusted and muddied trucks.

Another pulled up, casting light into the tall windows looking out into total darkness. You could've seen him coming from a good mile away—that’s how obvious the light would have been against the night, nothing else around to compete with his headlights—but paid no mind as he pulled into a vacant spot in front of the diner.

His figure was different, the way he walked left dirty bootprints on the floor. Each step seemed to shake off something: dirt, sweat, fleas—if he was rabid. He looked fresh out of a street fight, claw-like scrapes along his arms that were lazily cared for in some areas and ignored in others like he couldn’t even feel it. You couldn’t even imagine what was festering over his soiled handkerchief, the concoction of what you assumed to be blood—probably his, tending to the wounds that drew blood—and dirt and the firm press his strong hands must have had on it while he lathered it in such a dirty blend must have aided in it’s deforming. It hung off his person, but it wasn’t swinging freely. It was stiff and dried and only molded to his stand when he took a seat at one of the red stools. The blood on his white rag wasn’t the vibrant red of the stool, some of the spots were browning—likely a week old—and the newer spots were a darker shade.

“You here all by yourself?” He asked, looking at you. You didn’t realize that the rest of the diner was empty—including the skeleton crew of staff. In fact, it was just you working tonight. The other server on duty left over an hour ago to deal with a family emergency, something about a family member that had gone missing. You couldn’t really say much without looking like an asshole, so here you were: stood on the inside of the U-shaped counter, facing a man whose appearance was unusually cold as he sat on the outside of it.

“No, Bob’s in the kitchen.” You lied, the taste bitter like the bacon you burnt this morning during whatever it is a dying business can experience that is closest to a ‘rush.’ Bob quit weeks ago when the business was slow and the money coming in was slower. “You’re stuck with me up here, sugar.”

It might have been a lie, but you couldn’t care. Whatever made him think he couldn’t get a jump on you. But he seemed unamused, and that’s when you noticed the knife. It was on the other side of his hips, fastened between one of the belt loops on his jeans. The blade of it looked longer as you pushed open the waist-high swinging door to collect the dishes of the last family that ate. It gave you an excuse to look him up and down, and he didn’t have anything hiding under the counter that should make you nervous. He wasn’t even positioned to grab his knife quickly—his shoulder relaxed and his hands resting on top of the pale yellow counter.

After taking the dishes to the back, making a mental note to wash them before you left, you went back to the front. Johnny spoke up as he watched you strut back into the room with unknown purpose, his voice giving it a guide. “Could I… have a menu? You said someone’s still in the kitchen, so it’s open, right?"

“Yeah, sorry about that.” You said, reaching under the counter to get a paper menu for him. You slid it across, keeping your eyes trained on your hand and then his face came into the picture.

“It’s okay.” His voice was meek, softer and lighter than when he asked if you were alone. Was he playing for pity points—trying to get sympathy like it was free to hand out these days? “I just haven’t done this in a while. I don’t get out much.”

“Then why are you here?” It was something about him that made you say that—the rudeness, the imposition his mere presence emitted in a place like this. The way he smelled, the way he sounded. You looked away from him, out the window and into the nothingness only to return to his eyes. They were dark, seeing the hidden horrors of the night but there was something deeper in them that faded at your comment. His eyes went from doe-like to predatorily pouncing on your figure. From the apron tied around your waist, pens and notepads and straws and silverware stuffed in the various pockets of it, to the misshapen yellow cloth covering your upper body and then finally to your face. His voice shifted, too, going from the soft sounds of the wind to being as fiery as his truck’s engine.

“Because I’m not some bitch. I cut up—” he paused, before continuing, “—cattle all the time. It’s nice to eat a meal that isn’t something I have to work my ass off for.”

He continued his tangent, “In fact, I’ll make this easy for you so you quit your bitchin’. I don’t want anything savory, just get me a slice of pie. That should be easy enough for ya, right?”

You nodded and told him that it was coming up. You pushed the door open to the kitchen and pulled his pie out of the fridge. The oven was already heated, so you cut a slice bigger than what you would normally serve for him and put it on a pan and slid it into the oven. He shouted from the front, his accent like and voice losing its projection as he yelled, “Christ, and a cold one too! If you have it…”

Most people probably would’ve left. A diner in the middle of Nowhere, Texas with one person manning the kitchen and dining area is one big red flag for the quality of service. It took almost four minutes to heat up his requested pie—blueberry with crumbles of sugary clumps on top mixed with some crushed graham crackers. You didn’t know if he wanted whipped cream or not, so you kept it to the side when you brought it out to him. But this man was different, he looked like he hadn’t seen real food at all in his lifetime. You set it down in front of him, taking the opportunity to use your position on the inside of the counter to pull silverware from your apron like magic.

Setting the fork down next to his plate on the counter, he seemed to be in a lighter mood. He pulled his knife out, placing it on the opposite side of his plate. “Trade ya?”

“Only if you can’t pay. But this is on the house.”

Not only did he look happy when you said that, but when he took the first bite, his expression changed for the better. A smile formed around the fork, still in his mouth at the first taste of sweetness. His upturned lips crinkled his cheeks, and in turn, wrinkled the scar running down his face. You set yourself down on the counter, holding your face in your hands and letting your elbows rest on the counter. He smiled like a child and you admired him for it. "How is it? Good?"

He nodded. The man with no name, but an irascible personality. Unforgettable and strong. He was different because he liked this diner’s crappy food more than most. He liked the people in it, too. If only it could last that long...

#johnny slaughter #x male reader #x reader #johnny slaughter x reader #johnny slaughter x you #fanfic #johnny sawyer #the texas chainsaw massacre x reader #texas chainsaw game #texas chainsaw massacre game #the texas chainsaw massacre #texas chainsaw massacre #Johnny tcm #johnny slaughter x male reader #johnny slaughter x gender neutral reader #x gender neutral reader #x gn reader #johnny slaughter x y/n #x y/n

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deathmetalunicorn1 · 11 months

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Hello! May I request RoR reacting to One Piece Nami!Reader power? If you are not familiar with it, Nami from One Piece have a weapon name Clima-Tact or Climate Baton. Through it, she able to manipulate weather and combine with her intelligent especially on meteorology and weather system, her skills and powers is quite... Deathly. How will Gods Fighters react if they want to take her weapon away only to find out reader creates it and doesn't care(because she can just create a new and much stronger version of her weapon)? And how will the Humans Fighters react? Also, will be cautious of her and who will fall for reader, in your opinion?

-You stuck your tongue out at your opponent, winking one eye, “Don’t underestimate me, ‘kay?~” as you easily dodged a blow, back flipping and landing with ease.

-You twirled your Clima Tact with ease, showing your skill with your bo-staff shaped weapon, blocking a blow from your opponent with ease.

-He tried to grab your weapon again and electricity was quick to flow through, electrocuting your opponent, once again but he ripped it out of your hands, sending your weapon flying.

-You took a hard hit in your side, sending you flying with a sharp cry, rolling several feet as the humans in the crowd cried out in anger, seeing you get hit, booing the god for hitting a woman.

-You glanced upwards, and a smirk appeared as you rolled to your feet, lifting your hand to the sky, “Weather Egg! Thunder Tempo!!”

-A massive dark cloud appeared above the arena, and your opponent was quick to look up only to see a massive lightning bolt shoot down and hit him, illuminating his skeleton as he screamed out in pain.

-The other gods were quickly yelling at you, demanding to know how you were able to do this, your skills were similar to a god!

-You clapped your hands together and another lightning bolt shot down as you stretched out your hand, and another, stronger looking, Clima Tact, appeared in your hands as you winked again, teasing your opponent again.

-Kojiro- Chuckled warmly, seeing you toying with your opponent, showing off your flexibility and combat skill, but he was impressed with your knowledge over the weather, and even the ability to control it! He couldn’t help but grin, watching your fight with great interest, wanting to see more of these skills.

-Raiden- Cheering loudly for you, hyping you up! You controlled lighting with such ease, you controlled Raiden himself with such ease, you had quickly gained his attention due to your stunning looks, but it was your command over weather that shocked him, impressing him even more. He wanted to ask you out for a drink later!

-Nikola- Had to be held back by Adam, Raiden, and Kojiro as his eyes were so big, so full of stars, wanting to study your weapon and study your abilities! He had never seen someone able to control weather before, and you made it look so easy, using your Clima Tact as a guiding force. You heard him cheering for you and you turned, while waiting for your opponent to shake off your electrical attack and you gave him a wink, making him fall back, clutching his chest as his eyes turned to hearts.

-Thor- Your lightning was very strong, not as strong as his own, but you did impress him, even more so when you redirected his own lightning back at him. He gave you a smirk as he shook it off, “Turning my own attacks against me, interesting.” You smirked lightly, twirling your baton around before charging at him again, preparing another Weather Egg.

-Loki- He had to admit, although not as strong as Thor’s lightning, as he had been struck by that a few times, yours were quite strong, but more dangerous, as you could control their trajectory. He managed to grab your Clima Tact again and tried to flip you, but you managed to ground yourself, straddling his waist as you smirked down at him, “That’s gonna cost you extra~!” he instantly grinned at your flirtation, finding you more and more interesting!

-Shiva- Your fight with the Hindu god was almost like a dance, dodging each other’s blows with ease, flipping and ducking, Shiva quickly found you an interesting maiden. He shouted up at his wives as they were cheering for you, “Hey what about me?!” you laughed, finding it funny as you managed to hit him with lightning, throwing him back from you as you grinned, “Only pay attention to me at the moment~!” his wives couldn’t help but grin at your flirting, finding it funny while Shiva scowled for a moment before he grinned, charging at you again.

-Zeus- Was scared of you, mainly because he tried to hit on you backstage while you were walking with Brunnhilde and Goll, an electrified Clima Tact slamming between his legs was a good deterrent to make him leave you alone after he tried to grab your ass.

#record of ragnarok #ror x reader #ror kojiro sasaki #ror raiden #ror nikola tesla #ror thor #ror loki #ror shiva #ror zeus

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iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia · 1 year

Note

Some fluff for you to write. Sorry if you have done this request, or something similar,before.

What gifts/trinkets/random items do the M6 give MC and how does MC react? Also, what does MC do with the gifts they are given and do they ever give gifts back?

The Arcana HCs: Gift giving

~ thank you for the ask anon! Here's your fluff, and thank you for the smiles it brought me writing it - brainrot ~

Julian

What he gives you:

His gifts lean wildly into his creative and romantic side

He's not trying to give you something practical, he's trying to give you something that shows you his love

Bouquets of flowers, original pieces of poetry, a relic of his childhood in Nevivon that he wanted to share with you

He's also the most likely to give intangible gifts, like a song on his vielle or a daily recitation of famous love struck monologues

Every now and then it'll be a weird combination of a gift and his questionable medical research

Why exactly do you need to follow this oatmeal bathing regimen for the next week? You appreciate the oats, but ...

What you give him:

Julian doesn't really care whether a gift is practical or not. If it tells him that you love him and were thinking about him, it's perfect

Sometimes it's you coming home from errands with a refill of his favorite coffee grounds when he didn't ask for them

Sometimes it's a flower that looked pretty

Asra

Sometimes it's returning his letters and songs with a few bars of your own

Sometimes it's even finding a famous love scene in a play and agreeing to perform it with him. Without an audience of course

What they give you:

The best word you could use is eclectic

Sometimes his nurturing instincts kick in and they'll come home with a satchel full of foraged goods, each item carefully selected to meet a need

Sometimes it's the most random, outlandish thing but looking at it made him think of your smile, so here it is!

Your shop and kitchen are never lacking for inventory or cravings

On the other hand, you're not sure when to use the bath bomb designed to dye your whole body blue

Or the potion that'll make your skeleton glow in the dark, to the point that it is visible through your skin

Or the bidet shaped flamethrower

What you give them:

Giving him gifts is a struggle. He's so contented with having you in his life there's not much else to give him besides yourself

You're still not sure if you should have enabled him with that one glitter bomb. Nadia still spots pieces of it in the palace ceilings and tapestries

However, if it is weird and wonderful or an abomination that aspires to be either of those things, they will light up

A foreign delicacy consisting of ingredients you've never heard of before? A skirt with so many prisms sewn onto it it turns its wearer into a rainbow power source as soon as they step outside?

Nadia

Gift giving is one of her favorite ways to show love. Be prepared, you're going to need a lot of closet space

Gifts can range from a simple "here's an extra jeweled earring that matches my hair piece" to "I've called the palace merchants and tailors to give you a wardrobe overhaul"

The reason she's able to spoil you like this is because she's a Countess with plenty of resources and staff at her bidding

Which is why the most precious gift she can give you is her time

She tries to do this once a week, and you'll know it's time when Chandra appears with a little invitation to tea in her tower

Tea time is the highlight of your week. It's several hours of no distractions and nothing to do but give and receive each other's love

What you give her:

It was quite intimidating at first. What do you give the woman who has everything?

The thing is, she doesn't. There are so many places you can go and things you can experience that she has to move mountains to enjoy with you

So you bring the streets to the palace. Hearty pub food from the Rowdy Raven. Brightly painted wooden tops and puppets from the street corners. And of course, Selasi's pumpkin bread

Each gift makes her grin. To her, they are a taste of your world and she adores them. She's made a secret "museum of commonalities" to store your trinkets

Muriel

What he gives you:

Gifts aren't as much of a frequent thing from him, but not because he doesn't think to do it

It's because everything he gives you is painstakingly thought out and prepared

He spent weeks making the perfect walking stick for you. Selecting the branch, curing the wood, shaping it to your height and grip, sanding it smoother than silk, covering it in the most beautiful and meaningful carvings, giving it the perfect stain and finish ...

And then leaving it quietly by the door next to his with no further indication that it was a really special present and invitation for you to join him on his normally solitary walks

The same goes for the tray he brings you breakfast on with "I love you" carved into it, or the cape he made you from a pelt he spent weeks trapping for

What you give him:

"Unnecessary" but enjoyable things from the city. Meeting you was the start of his shift from surviving to living, and you like to capitalize on that

You have a spice cupboard in the hut now, which you keep stocked

You made him a pillow stuffed with feathers that the chickens donated

You also found myrrh scented shampoo (he'd been using bar soap on his head) and that day he fell in love with you all over again

Portia

What she gives you:

So. Many. Baked. Treats.

She and Selasi have a friendly rivalry over who can make your favorite baked good

(They also trade baking tips but that doesn't belong in this headcanon)

She also likes to present you with her own versions of trophies from war

This could be the feather she took off the chamberlain's hat when he annoyed her, or the last slice of cake she had to armwrestle one of the foot soldiers for, or a piece of fruit she bargained down to a brilliant price

Because she's more acts of service oriented, gifts from her aren't frequent enough to be predictable unless she knows it's how you like to be treated. You might get three in a day and then go weeks without receiving anything in that way

What you give her:

Practical items, but more luxurious than what she would get for herself

She grew up to be generally self sufficient for a reason. She keeps her own garden, manages her own clothes, uses the library to educate herself, etc

So if you show up with some fancy skin cream and a hair mask? Some leave in conditioner for her curls? The silk skirt she was admiring in the shop window?

Lucio

She'll be hesitant to accept such nice things, but she'll light up every time she uses or wears them and give you a kiss

She will also make them last for months

What he gives you:

This is a sore point for him. Back when he was count, he could snap his fingers and you'd be covered in gold and jewelry and silks and furs and magical trinkets

But now he's a humble journeyman. Which he doesn't mind, it's a good life, but he can't spoil you like he wants to

The first time he learned the satisfaction of saving up for something and then buying it was to get you a leather satchel that wouldn't ruin your shoulders or back

It was a test of his patience, but the look on your face when he gave it to you and the way you thanked him when the day ended and you weren't in pain made him feel ten feet tall

He doesn't always have the patience to save up like that, but it's not uncommon for him to get you something small and lightweight that the area you're traveling through specializes in

What you give him:

He counts a lot of what you already do for him as gifts. Your companionship, your cooking skills, your moral guidance

But something he's always admired in others is the use of magic. If you give him any item either made with magic or boosted by it, he's like a kid on Christmas

His favorite is the earring with some of your magic stored in it so you can track him

(Does this make him a backpack leash kid? Absolutely. Is he proud of it? Yes.)

#ask arcana brainrot #the arcana headcanons #the arcana hc #the arcana #asra the arcana #julian the arcana #nadia the arcana #muriel the arcana #portia the arcana #lucio the arcana #the arcana game #the arcana fluff #asra alnazar #julian devorak #nadia satrinava #muriel of the kokhuri #portia devorak #lucio morgasson

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joshriku · 5 months

Note

drabble request 👀: xmcu cherik’s erik finding out charles has been paralysed

i keep saying 'drabble' and then it gets out of my hands u_u here! post xmfc, bit of altered dofp scene. thank you for the prompt!!!!

Erik grips the headboard tightly.

Charles sleeps so soundly, so peacefully, like nothing has happened to him. Erik’s chest gets smaller, tighter, like not enough blood is being pumped and like the oxygen is out of reach for his lungs. The nurse, still under Emma’s control, keeps talking:

“It’s a good thing the bullet was removed,” she explains, the weight of the words crashing upon Erik with each intonation. The bullet, so small and light, never truly left his hands. Every time he looks down, he can see it again. “It lessened the neurological effects it could have…”

Erik stops listening. There’s sand everywhere, leaking through his suit, and it’s so, so hot. It’s so hot. When he looks down, Charles is still sleeping, not having moved an inch.

He removes one of his gloves, cradling his face. He doesn’t wake up. It’s better this way, perhaps, because every time his thoughts trail back to Charles, the thought of his disappointed and heartbroken stare makes him sick. I’m sorry, but we do not. The tremble of his voice, the tears that refused to fall, the pain he must have been in—

And the pain he will continue to be in, because of him—

“I’m sorry,” Erik leans down, pressing his lips against his forehead. It burns him. His skin tastes of sand, of bullets. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so very sorry.”

No reaction. When he turns around, the nurse has left the room, and all that remains is Emma staring at him with what seems to be her version of pity.

“It shouldn’t have been like this,” Erik says. He gestures at Charles. “It should have never ended like this. This—this is a mistake. It can’t be like this.”

“Erik…”

“No, I could—” he runs a hand through his hair. “An exo-skeleton suit, is that what they call it? I could make one for him—I could—the pins in his spine, I could—”

“Erik,” Emma says, firmer, the sympathy in her eyes gone. “You can’t fix this.”

A broken cry threatens to escape his throat. He turns around to stare at Charles, still sleeping, and would still be when Erik left, unaware he was ever here. And perhaps that’s for the better, isn’t it? Erik’s caused him a lifelong injury. Every time he wanted to get up, he’d remember Erik did this to him. Every time he took a breath, he’d remember the mistake he made when he trusted Erik. He loved him as he was, and Erik retaliated with a bullet to his spine.

Charles would never forgive him.

“You can’t fix it,” Emma repeats, a bit softer, reaching out to move him. “We have to go, Erik, I can’t keep the rest of the staff frozen any longer.”

Erik nods.

He takes a second to hold Charles’ hand again, kiss it. “I’m sorry.”

Even if he never forgave him, the least Erik could do is change the world for him. Make the world a better place, for him and for all mutants.

“Erik,” Emma urges again.

Erik gives him one last look, grabs his helmet, and leaves with Emma.

------

“I’m sorry, Charles… for what happened,” Erik says. The apology hurts less to say, but carries the same meaning. Ten years did that to a person. “I truly am.”

Charles takes a sip of his drink, avoids his eyes, and focuses on the board in front of them. It’d be an admirable strength of feat, if Erik couldn’t see how hard he’s trying to not look at him.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me,” Erik continues, a bit addicted to the feeling of confessing this guilt. “I hope—I hope by stopping this madness, I could—”

“I don’t…” Charles stops. It silences Erik immediately. When Charles looks back at him, Erik finds it hard to hold his gaze. But he does. He hasn’t stared at him in so long—being able to do it again, it’s downright hypnotizing. His next words pull Erik out of his little fantasy, though: “I don’t forgive you.”

“I know. I—”

“I don’t forgive you because I don’t blame you,” Charles finishes. Another sip, like it could give him more strength, but once he realizes his glass is almost empty he sets it aside. “I did, at first. I wanted to—oh, so badly, I wanted to hate you.”

“Charles…”

“The first few nights at the hospital, I would sleep through it all. Until the anesthesia wore off, and it was as though—” he tries gesturing with his hand, but there are no gestures that encapsulate what he must have felt. “I don’t think I could describe it. I would ask my legs to move, and they would not. Every time I woke up, I thought, perhaps this time it’ll work. And every time it didn’t, I wanted to curse you. Just curse your name and blame you for every single thing. And I couldn’t.”

“Why?” Erik asks. Does he sound hoarse? “Why couldn’t you?”

“You loved me, back then,” Charles says. “I knew you would never hurt me like that, willingly. How could I blame you for an accident?”

Charles looks shocked by his own words. Erik’s chest tightens.

“I only ever blamed you for leaving. I wanted you to be there, to be with me through this change. To adapt with me. To… just be there,” Charles shakes his head. “How foolish of me, truly.”

“I’m sorry,” he says again. “I hope… with time, you can forgive me for that, then. And if not—” Erik tries to reach out with his hand. Charles doesn’t respond to it. “If not, I will still not leave.”

Charles chuckles. He looks at Erik as if asking, how could I ever believe you again?

“Logan… Logan says we sent him, together,” Charles tentatively brushes his fingers against Erik’s. It’s not enough. He could be under Charles’ skin and still not begin to make up everything he missed. “I suppose we shall see, then.”

Erik swallows. He needs to close the space between them, he needs to hold him, he needs to—he needs to—

Erik leans back. “You have the first move.”

Charles looks at the chess board as if he forgot its existence. “It’s been a while since I played.”

“I’ll go easy on you,” Erik promises, slightly teasing, and for the first time in a decade he stops tasting sand.

#cherik #writing #asks #thank u sm for this prompt sorry i took so long!

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telleroftime · 1 year

Text

Little Melody ||| Bowser x Reader

King Bowser struggles with a certain part of a composition when playing on his piano. You, his captive, chime in with a chord suggestion that ends up working.

———————————————

Pairing: Bowser x Gender Neutral ! Reader

Relationship: Platonic

Tone: Gen

Word Count: 2.8k

Bowser Masterlist

———————————————

Being held captive for ransom was certainly an experience, especially when the person kidnapping you was most definitely not penurious.

From the towering doors edged with polished silver - the surface of which was decorated with engravings depicting bones and beasts and fire - to the cascading walls of glowing lava that had to be suspended using tedious magic, the castle you were taken into was truly quite fascinating. The architecture was different from your home, making you feel like a helpless little mouse trapped in a giant's den instead of a spark of musical might that kept you alive. Everything was plus sized. The ceilings reached too high. The corridors were too long. But there was less fear behind the anxiety blooming in your chest and more so a sense of wonder. This place was different, inspiring almost.

And, if the outward appearance wasn't enough to settle that, the stark disparity between court ethics made the slight culture shock that more obvious. There were no ladies in elegant garb wandering in search of rich lords and famous musicians. The castle staff was kept to a minimum of a few Shy Guys dusting random corners instead of bustling maids and palace servants. There were no princes or princesses causing immediate havok amongst the stationed guards. The court was quiet. Too quiet.

It was a silence that did not falter even as you were led towards the throne room during your first few days there. You could remember the sound of your dark chains as they clanged against one another, their heavy alloy creating minimal discomfort, surprisingly not irritating the skin of your wrists at all. With the two magikoopas keeping you walking - one in front and one behind - you had to steel yourself before you could actually come face to face with your kidnapper.

Your steps echoed loudly down the halls. One step after the other, like walking to the set rushed pace of a metronome, you forced yourself to remain confident. You were more than aware of the hanging cages decorating the more fortress-like areas; the skeletons brushed to the side were not that far out of view.

Scratches disrupted the perfect surface of the rock below your feet, telling tales of struggles that were overshadowed by the huge statues of a giant beast. You remembered how the stone was cut, chiseled with finesse to mimic the shapes of a raging monster. The pointy teeth. The sharp claws. The horns of a bull curling up like a laurel wreath. Even then, when looking at the hovering black flags that wore the emblem of this foreign kingdom, you had pieced together that the statues must have depicted the king himself.

You were right.

At first, when standing in front of his throne and having to crane your neck up to witness the true potency of his glower, you had hoped you could reason with His Majesty, King Bowser. You wanted to plead your case. You wanted to reason that this was all a misunderstanding. It was all a wreck of a symphony that could yet be fixed. However, with an arrogant upturn of his snout and the flick of his decorated wrist, you were quick to realise it was all just wishful thinking.

For the first few days trapped in this unknown world, you were kept locked within the dungeons. You were given a simple cot, the pillows flat and uncomfortable and not at all what you were used to back at home. The food was given to you as tasteless, uninspiring mush. The only light you were allowed was the dull glow of fire that filtered through the iron bars. You were held like a convict within the small cell.

All until you weren’t. The cold stone slabs turned to polished wood. The rationed prison food turned to exquisite three course meals. Instead of the now-dirty clothes you wore when you were taken in, you had been dressed in white fabric, edges of the garments trimmed and lined with colours of flames and gemstones mimicking the glimmer of embers. You don't know what brought about the change. Maybe the people of your home agreed to the king's conditions. Maybe the giant koopa had a change of heart. Whatever it was was definitely not to your benefit when you were placed in a large, golden cage beside the king himself.

Despite your voiced complaints and near constant nagging, the king insisted on having you dragged after him. You dined with him. You sat idly next to him as he slouched back on his throne. You were trapped in every sense of the word, stuck in a cage like a little, doomed songbird. A musician with no thrill and a creator with no hope. The only thing you could do was sit on top of a small bar attached to the base of the platform - a little, worthless bench that allowed you to rock your legs back and forth - with your body leaning forwards on your elbows. Trapped with nothing to do but lazily hum your comfort songs as you daydreamed of home.

However, be that a stroke of luck or of misfortune, your boredom was temporarily sated when you were brought into a large, circular space surrounded by a glow of thick, molten lava. It was a new place, and now the heat of the glowing walls caused your palms to sweat and your skin to sparkle with moisture. It was arid, but not entirely unbreathable.

The king placed your cage down on a small stool next to a black coloured grand piano, the plaque reading 'Ludwig Von Koopa' informing you of the brand, and sat himself positively on the cushioned chair. Confidently, his claw pressed the first key.

You're guilty to admit that you would have never expected the large koopa, let alone your beast of an impolite kidnapper, to be able to play on such a fine instrument. It was tuned perfectly, the sounds echoing within the body with beautiful resonance. The king's claws glided against the keys with a practiced precision you couldn’t help but observe. With each note he played, his face of concentration morphed to fit the sound. It pulled and it twisted as if you were not there, passion for the craft evident even in the way he closed his eyes. He leaned his body in when the tune demanded a longer sound, and swayed backwards for the faster notes.

You gawked at him, your silhouette still as you simply watched him play. At first, you were certain that you recognised the chord progression. You thought you knew the melody, the kingdom you were from known mainly for its involvement in the evolution of music. However, you refused to be vain enough to say for certain. In some places it sounded familiar, though that was common within many compositions. In other parts the melody sounded original. It was unlike anything you have ever heard before, and it was something that would have never reached the shores of your homeland. It sounded like something born to this room, and the flex and twitch of the king's arms showed the truth to that.

You watched as his brows furrowed, then relaxed. Then they furrowed again, and His Majesty's playing took a pause.

One try after the next, King Bowser played and replayed a certain part of the melody. The composition was unfinished from the looks of it, and you readjusted your spot on the metal bar. You heard him huff as he glanced at your movement, but other than that he ignored it in favour of the piano.

Playing for a minute, he stumbled, then he tried again. Each time he started from the same bar, giving himself room to think. He tried, and failed. He tried, and failed again. After about the fifth time, your eyes flitted away from his general figure and turned instead to the entrance of the room. You stared blankly at the door, eyes unfocused slightly as you listened to him play.

F major seven, G major, F minor. You knew those chords, recognising them as they rang in the background of the sound. Then, the king faltered, the misplay making the piano ring an off tuned sound. A broken noise.

Turning your focus back to the koopa, you noticed the angle of his face no longer flowed with the wave of musical passion. You saw him bare his sharp teeth in anger, the smug grin from his confident playing wiped clean off his snout. His claws hovered with a twitchy tension above the monochrome keys as if he didn't wish to inflict the aftermath of his rage onto the instrument. His eyes twitched as his bushy red brows furrowed in spiteful annoyance, following a distinct streak of black smoke that pushed itself out of his nostrils.

Blinking, you turned your gaze forward to think again. F major seven. G major. F minor… and then another misplayed key that sent a growl echoing into the silence of the room that fought against the popping sound of lava. F minor… but what if…

"Try A-Sharp minor," you chirped, leaning your body forward on the hard seat as you looked up at him expectantly. His attention turned away from the piano, his head tilting up slightly so that he could more strongly look down at you.

Instead of the friendly acknowledgment you would have hoped for, the king gave you silence. His eyes were sharp and narrow, cast in a fiery glow that made his frown appear shadowed and menacing and arrogant. The look made you slouch back in your seat, watching as he huffed out yet another cloud of ash. This time you could taste the sulphur on the base of your tongue. "Be quiet," he instructed, turning his head back to the piano with an irritated swing of his tail. You watched as his hands clenched and unclenched above the keys.

"I'm only trying to help you-"

He snarled, the sound deep and guttural, causing your mouth to shut in an instant. It was a wordless instruction that made you cross your arms.

Sitting up straight, you grumpily turned your body away from him as an act of small rebellion. Your features lay low on your face then, a small pout twisting your lips. Though you refused to look back, you could feel his eyes on you as the silence hung like thick goo between the two of you. Then you heard him shuffle and you relaxed at the tentative press of one of the keys. The king went back to playing.

Starting from the very beginning, you closed your eyes as you let the sour taste of tension dissipate with the sound of the notes. You were lost in the sound of the piano, only hearing the sound of King Bowser's breathing whenever a pop of lava snapped you back to reality. Any stolen glances you permitted yourself revealed not a face of anger, but instead one of contemplative concentration that did not affect the quality of the piece. He wordlessly continued, note after note, chord after chord, until he returned to the end of the section.

The first chord sounded. Then the second. Then the third. You were certain that he would hesitate again, but to your surprise he played your suggestion, minimally delaying to play the starting chord again. A minute or two passed as the giant koopa finished with the piece. Then he stopped and you opened your eyes.

Slowly, his eyes scrolled to meet yours, brows raised lightly with his lips parted. He stared at you with those brutal red eyes, his hands playing the chord again, and again, and again causing you to shrug. Letting his features relax, it was as if the aimed annoyance had completely dissipated from his body.

"I wasn’t expecting you to actually play it," you mumbled. However, your surprised tone was lost on him as he tilted his head up, side eyeing the piano before looking back at you.

“How’d ya know?”

You hummed, kicking your feet slowly in the air as you balanced on the metal seat. "I thought about it."

Your kicking stopped as a low growl rumbled in his chest, his snout pulling back incredulously, "you saying I didn’t?"

"No," you turned your entire body to face him, stradling the seat to match his show of arrogance, "I'm just saying that I did."

“It doesn’t explain how you knew the chord.”

“It does.”

He grumbled, “does not.”

“Does too.”

Huffing, the king childishly tossed his arms in the air, turning his attention back to the piano with a pout evident on his snout, though he didn't seem to notice, or at least he didn't seem to care. You observed him intently as he froze in his spot, thinking. Then his clawed hands pressured down on the piano in favour of a different tune. It was a lively one, a melody that originally belonged to a much larger, angry symphony. However, when singled out the tune almost sounded happy. Hopeful. It was also a composition that you definitely recognised, and one that King Bowser played with an expert's touch.

Your intrigue had returned, and you subconsciously leaned your body in. It was honestly beautiful. His hands fluttered across the length of the piano. The movements were muscle memory, the skill seemingly engraved into him.

Tilting his head from side to side as if he breathed the music itself, you almost missed the side glances he threw your way. Every once in a while, after every enunciated chord, you saw his downcast, amber gaze turn to you.

Whether it was him showing off once again - probably what the original purpose of coming to this room was - or it was a test, you did not care much. You listened, then you took the bait. You allowed your hands to flow in a familiar motion, as if you held onto a conducting baton. Every other moment, you listed the key or the chord he had played. You saw his fingers twitch at this, but he continued and so did you.

Sometimes he would slow down the tempo, sometimes he would speed it up. Most of the time, throughout the course of the piece, his eyes remained on you, bar from the few glances back at the keys. He played the piece to its end, exhaling a loud breath before his attention turned to you. You were still humming, in your mind finishing the parts that the very much missing ensemble could not. When you looked back at him, his eyes were glowing flames, though it wasn’t in any form of wrath. It was a curiosity, one that silently egged you on.

"I know how to play," you offered with a grin, your finger pointing at the piano through the bars of your cage. However, your hands were quick to dart back to your face to cover your grin. This was your kidnapper. He no doubt wanted to butter you up to use for ransom or he wanted to use you as a tool in a political war… and yet even knowing that fact, the grin refused to leave your face. Especially not after you saw His Majesty gawk at you with a smirk of his own.

He blinked a few times, eyes twitching from you to black shell of the piano. Then they closed, the grin dropping. You waited, and after a moment he opened them again. "Prove it."

Your lips thinned slightly and you tilted your head to the side. You ran your hand down one of the golden bars of the cage, your brows raised, "from in here? Or will you let me out?"

The king huffed then, and just as his lips moved to respond, the doors to the room creaked open and your collective attention turned to the single magikoopa that entered the room. He looked startled and unsure. Frightened almost. It was a dull reminder of who exactly you were sitting with.

"Your Majesty, Kamek requires your presence," the magikoopa said with a prominent waver in their voice.

Poorly masking the forming anger, King Bowser blew out a steam of flames at the unwelcome interruption, standing from the piano stool. His eyes looked to you before he shook his head, once again flicking his wrist with a disinterested persona. "Take them back to their room. Make sure they're fed well."

Your eyes widened, "what? Hey!" But the king ignored you, stomping angrily out of the bright room. He ignored your shouts, and you had to bite your tongue into silence as the mage awkwardly lifted you cage with a mist of purple magic.

Though it had an inconvenient end, that was not the last time you sat in that room.

———————————————

A/N: Get rickrolled all of you.

Bowser Masterlist

#bowser #bowser x reader #bowser x y/n #bowser fanfic #super mario bowser #bowser fanfiction #mario bros #bowser super mario #super mario #super mario x reader #bowser headcanons #king bowser

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beautifulphilosopherbird · 12 days

Text

Dungeon Meshi rewatch ep 12 notes

Chilchuck says he's heard of people being revived from this before (does he mean just bones or just a skull or?) it's not a common thing so…

Marcille says the link between Falin's body and spirit is super weak rn (bc the worse the body is damaged, the weaker the link) so she should not be moved rn

common reason for failed resurrections is if the soul separated too far or if the body was not fully restored

Marcille suggests getting a resurrection specialist to resurrect her there

resurrections require twice the amount of calories for the damaged parts of the body (which if brought from outside would rot on the way down to the 5th floor) - so they gonna use DRAGON MEAT

I am loving the vibes Marcille gives off now that we're entering the zone of her magical expertise

dun dun dunnnn SHE'S the resurrection specialist LESGO

Senshi says "black magic" is evil and Marcille says that magic has no morality

she cuts her palm and makes a magic circle with her bloody hand on the staff

SKELETON PUZZLE TIMEEEEEE

only human souls get bound to the dungeon (so monsters can't get resurrected)

Marcille badassery time!

SUCCESS!!!

hehe some totally heterosexual bath time

Falin is feeling lots of power inside her

oh yeah and she isn't squinting anymore, so her eyesight improved too 👀

they can't use the return spell or the orc tunnels to get back to the surface (the return magic I'm guessing is bc neither Falin nor Marcille are supposed to be able to do it in their current state? not sure about the orc tunnels)

Laios says he has savings in the bank but no promissory note and it would take a month to reproduce it

Chilchuck wonders if Marciless is one of the dark elves (bc she uses forbidden magic)

she says she is looking into ways it can be used for the people

Senshi went to cook but he went to cook near the dragon and well, if he lights a fire near the fuel the dragon has stored for his fire breath… disaster

ah here we go, Falin cast the defensive magic and saved Senshi's ass (literally) but she didn't chant which means VERY POWERFUL MAGIC-ING HAPPENED

DRAGON OVEN YAY lmfao dragon pizza love it

also, poor Chilchuck throwing a fit bc Senshi cut the dragon tail (gotta thank eelo for this too bc she informed us that it can fetch a pretty price which is why he's yelling that it's wasteful)

they deffo related LOL

hahaha Chilchuck exposing Laios with Kensuke

look at the lil guy squaring up hehe

Laios gets scolded for not telling them and promises not to do it again

awww sleepover at the creepy ghost house yassss (the bit with the little girl was cute tho)

Falin also promises she won't do it again (saving Laios' ass at the expense of her own)

oh oh crazy eyes is here

ALL CAUGHT UP TO OUR WATCH PARTY WOOT!!!

manga here I come!

random screengrabs:

#dunmesh #dunmeshi #dunmeshi ep 12 #dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #the senshi fanservice hehe #LETS SEE IF I CAN FINISH THE MANGA IN TIME FOR THE WP THO

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dyinglikenarcissus · 7 months

Text

The Help

I kinda hate this title but it was inspired by the movie and I couldn’t make my brain think of anything else

Lee Bodecker x his black female maid reader who is way overqualified for the job

14k words

Warnings: 18+ only!!! Contains: mommy and daddy kink, a bit of breeding kink, smut, protected sex, unprotected sex, and here’s the big one: there’s one ‘negro’. It’s a period fic and a sign of the times so there you go. You’ve been properly warned. Consume at your own risk.

Please don’t copy or repost my work, thanks! Plagiarism is rude

Comments, likes, and reblogs are always appreciated ☺️

————————————————

“Lee! This place is a fucking mess!” Sandy calls as she steps into her brother’s house.

“What the fuck am I supposed to do about it?” Lee grunts back from the staircase, cigarette hanging from his lips as he pulls on his jacket.

“It’s embarrassing! You’re the sheriff. You live in sty,” she sighs picking up a shirt from the floor. “Really?” She asks holding up the garment. “Do you expect mom to get up out of her grave and clean up after you?”

He just ignores her continuing to the kitchen to make a sandwich.

“Are you listening to me?”

“Hard not to,” Lee mutters.

“These ash trays haven’t been emptied since the last time I came over. And what’s with all these wrappers?” Sandy brushes a pile of candy wrappers into an overflowing trashcan. “Why don’t you hire someone?”

“Ain’t nobody got money for that,” Lee replies into his sandwich. He had to avoid three slices of moldy bread and all he had was cheese and mayonnaise in the fridge. He’d just grab something else on his way to work.

“You have a Cadillac and Lincoln and if you had someone cooking for you, you wouldn’t spend so much at the diners and drive ins.” Lee continues to ignore her to grab a Coke from the fridge. “What are you saving all this money for? Hoping one of those hoes you fuck around with will show up with a kid?”

“God, I hope not,” Lee sighs. Maybe he should hire someone. Be nice to have a home cooked meal. Not just add to the mess anymore. He could use a woman’s touch around here…

“You know someone?” He finally asks, a lazy drawl in his voice as he levels his gaze with his sister.

She just smirks back at him. “A friend of mine’s sister is looking for work.”

“Friend of yours? You got shitty friends, Sand,” Lee goads.

“She’s a friend from work,” Sandy explains.

“‘Nother waitress?” She nods. “And it’s her sister?” She nods again. “Ever met her?”

“I have. She comes around the diner sometimes. She’s nice. Educated. She just graduated from college.”

“Why the hell she want to be a maid?”

“She moved back here to take care of their mom. It’s temporary. Until you finally find a wife that can take care of you.”

Lee let’s out an exasperated huff. “Send her over Monday morning.”

Sandy grins triumphantly. “You’re gonna love her.”

“Whatever,” Lee grumbles and lights another cigarette. “Get out of my house. I gotta get to work.”

The next Monday, you stand waiting on an unfamiliar porch in a starched blue dress with a canvas bag of cleaning supplies. You were desperate for anything at his point. Meade was a place you hoped you never had to return to. After you got accepted into Spelman you kissed this place goodbye and refused to look back.

Then your mom got sick your senior year.

So you started to spend your summers out here instead of having fun with your friends. And after graduating nursing school, instead of taking an offer from a innovative hospital with competitive pay in San Francisco, you were stuck back in your backwards home town that still had signs for ‘colored’ and ‘white’ over the water fountains.

There wasn’t a position for a black nurse here. They’d let you work as a custodian but they “didn't have a place for a woman of your stature”. The ‘black’ hospital was thirty minutes away and they couldn’t afford to take on anyone else. They could barely afford their skeleton staff alone. Unless you wanted to work for free with an hour long commute, you were stuck either cleaning or waiting tables or stocking groceries because this place was stuck in the 1800s!

“It’s just for now,” you remind yourself under your breath. Just until you could convince your mom to move to California with you. Your sister has two kids and a full time job. She can only help her so much. So you turned down that job to take care of her. She’d have better care in a bigger city. A better life in general. But old people are reluctant to change. It’d take some time to convince her but you refuse to waste away in this hell hole with the worst people in America.

You’ll have an apartment overlooking the water and be working at a cutting edge hospital by next summer.

“It’s just for now,” you repeat. You hear a heavy set of footsteps approach the door.

Your sister said he was the sheriff. Her coworker’s brother. Figures in Meade County that the sheriffs’s sister would be a waitress and not a lawyer or a politician or a doctor or something more prestigious. You roll your eyes that you’ll be working for the man that continues to enforce Jim Crow after it’s been deemed unconstitutional.

You just hope your mouth can keep in check.

“It’s just for now.”

The door finally opens revealing a wall of a man. You look up to see him dressed in a grey button up stretched over a bit of pooch, stubble forming on his cheeks from not shaving that morning, perfectly cropped dark hair, and a gorgeous set of blue eyes. Sandy’s eyes weren’t nearly as bright.

A small smirk forms on his lips as you stare up at him.

“You the cleaning girl?” He drawls, watching you stare at him dumbly.

“Uh, yeah,” you whisper. “I mean, yes,” you respond a little more confidently. “Yes, sir, sheriff, Mr. Bodecker...”

He lets out an amused noise at your flustering. “Just Lee’s fine. Come on.” He nods toward the house, leading you in and you notice you have your work cut out for you. “You got a name?” You nod and introduce yourself. “You cook?”

“I can cook,” you agree. Your family likes your cooking enough.

“You know anything about gardening?”

“Like a vegetable garden?”

“Yeah. I’m looking to start one. It’d be nice to have some help.” You just nod again not looking forward to getting dirty but your dad taught you some things about flowers while he was still alive.

“I’ll have you make three meals a day. I can offer $5 an hour, five days a week. That sound alright?”

That’s perfect! Plenty to help you save, buy a car, get a home in California. You just nod, attempting to not look so eager.

“Alright. It’s a fucking mess around here so you have your work cut out for you. I work ridiculous hours so i ain’t home a lot. I’m just gonna trust you to find something to do around here.” You nod as you follow him around the house. Two stories, three bedrooms, two bathrooms, the kitchen could use more than a little organizing, and the bathroom looked like it requires a hazmat suit to take care of. “As you can see, you’ll have plenty to do. I’m not a tyrant. I just expect mutual respect.” You nod again as he stops in the kitchen. “Alright. It’s my day off so I’ll be around if you have any questions.” You nod again.

Then he leaves you alone.

Alright. Where to start?

“Oh! Have you had breakfast?” You call after your new employer on his way upstairs.

“Sure haven’t. That’s your first assignment.” You smile and look through the refrigerator for breakfast food.

You step into your crowded mother’s house after a long day of cleaning and cooking to find her in her favorite chair listening to the radio while your sister’s kids chase a ball.

“Will y’all take that outside before you break something?” You scold.

“Leave those babies alone. They aren’t hurting anyone,” your mother laughs weakly.

“You are so much softer on them then you were on us,” you lament walking over to press a kiss to her forehead.

“How was your first day?”

“It was fine. He seems nice enough. Kept to himself mostly but he gave me a key for tomorrow because he doubts he’ll be back home when I’m off.”

“What’s the sheriff’s house like?” She asks ready for all the gritting details.

“It was a mess in there, momma! I’m tackling one thing at a time. It’s nice but I don’t know, I expected him to have one of those plantation homes passed down since the 1800s,” you joke.

“Well, he ain’t a real white.” You cut your mother a look at her statement. She can’t end with that. “His momma immigrated here.”

“Really?” Your mom knows all the good gossip.

“One of those little European countries. There’s a million of ‘em. She was pregnant with him when she showed up and got pregnant with his sister a couple years later. Never did marry. Never did know who the girl’s father was.”

“What’d she do out here?”

“You know I hate to gossip.” Liar. But you don’t say it out loud. “No one ever saw her going to work but folk would see her coming home early in the morning if you follow.”

“Ohhhh,” you laugh at the scandal. You began to wonder how an immigrant became the sheriff in this small town. He was elected while you were in Atlanta so you had no idea that he even existed.

Interesting situation.

“But that was all speculation. Don’t go spreading that around, you hear?”

“Yes, momma,” you smile while rolling your eyes. “I’m gonna start dinner, alright? How’s gumbo sound?”

“Oh Lord, girl! What d’you know about gumbo?” She laughs herself into a coughing fit.

You hand her a handkerchief and rub her back until it passes. “I know plenty, momma. Been in Atlanta for the past six years.”

“Alright, girl. You go on ahead,” she smiles skeptically making you giggle.

You go to start dinner for the house and hope Lee enjoyed the dinner you made him.

Soon your sister come home and shortly afterward her husband and it was a full house. It was noisy and crowded and you never missed your little apartment more than you did in the evenings.

At least you didn’t have to share a room with anyone. It may be small, basically a refitted pantry, but it was private.

You finally retreat to your room alone after showering and wrapping up your hair. You let out a soft sigh as you fall onto your bed. You curl under your covers, exhausted but a little restless for some reason. You aren’t sure why. You should fall asleep the second your head hits the pillow. You know you’re going to be so sore in the morning after today but you can’t settle down.

You jiggle your leg in frustration.

You know what will help you sleep…

You hate doing this in your mother’s home. It was so much easier when you had your own place.

But you need some sleep.

You slip your hand under your night gown. You easily find your clit and apply a little pressure. You bite your lip and let out a soft moan as you let your imagination run wild. Normally you imagined Sidney Poitier or Paul Newman having their way with you but tonight a new face entered your mind.

Oh no.

Brain! No!

Not him! He’s your boss! You whimper at the idea of wanting to fuck the giant man. Stop…

But it felt so good. It was so easy. The idea of his big hands all over you, his lips pressed against your skin.

You let out a quiet whine as you cum far too quickly.

This is bad. This is so bad. But you did manage to relax yourself. You were too tired to overthink it. You’ll figure it out in the morning.

But you didn’t figure it out in the morning. You made Lee his breakfast and sent him off to work before eating something yourself and tackling another mess in his home. You didn’t see him much after your first day. Just in the morning as he got ready for work and, as promised, he normally didn’t make it home in time to see you off. But you kept yourself busy and before you knew it your weekend came. You enjoyed time with your family, took a bus to the city with your mother and sister to shop, went to a movie with some childhood friends, and ended it all with church on Sunday.

And not once did you think about how you got off to the image of your boss. It went to the back of your mind where it belonged and didn’t resurface until early Monday morning.

You let out a soft sigh as you step into Lee’s house. All those images of him unwillingly flood back into your brain as you see him leaning over the kitchen counter looking over the newspaper. His cigarette hangs from his mouth precariously. His weekend clothes are a far cry from his work ensemble. So loose with a slight hint his preferences. You guess his favorite color is red since he owns so many button ups and polos in varying red tones. He also has a collection of colorful socks. They all have interesting patterns and designs. You enjoyed looking at them while folding his laundry.

“Morning,” he greets breaking you from your trance.

“Oh! Good morning,” you squeak in surprise. You hope he didn’t notice you staring.

“Didn’t startle you, did I?

“Yes! I mean no. I mean I don’t-”

“It’s alright,” he chuckles. “It’s early.”

You just nod, taking the out, and place your bag on the table by the door. “What would you like for breakfast this morning?” You ask redirecting your very explicit thoughts.

“I saw you got some thick cut bacon at the store,” he trails expectantly.

“That was meant to be a surprise,” you smile.

“You should’ve hid it better,” Lee grunts.

“Coming right up,” you laugh and head into the kitchen. Lee has Mondays off strangely enough. You think he also has the weekend off. It was odd that he wanted you around on his day off but you did your best to stay quiet and out of the way. It helped that he spent his time outside mostly, working on his garden and mowing the lawn.

He came in a little before noon asking about the lunch you were plating.

“Looks good. Thank you.” You just nod in response as he takes his plate to the dining table leaving you to eat at the kitchen bar.

“You gonna join me?” Lee calls after a moment.

“Oh, no. I couldn’t-“ you start but he reappears just to grab your plate and place it next to his. “I really couldn’t,” you try to explain but he just pulls out the chair next to his and waits for you to sit.

“We can stand here all day staring at each other but I know you’re hungry,” Lee goads when you refuse to budge.

“Fine,” you sigh and roll your eyes.

“See? Ain’t this nice?” Lee laughs while pushing in your chair after you reluctantly sat. You attempt to eat in silence, making yourself as small as possible but the sheriff has other ideas. “My sister said you went to nursing school?” He asks braking your concentration on your green beans.

“Yeah. Um, I graduated from Spelman in Atlanta.”

“Smart girl,” he deduces. “What are you doing cleaning up after me?”

“My mom got sick and there’s no place for a black nurse around here.”

He hums softly in response. “You been to that hospital?” You shake your head softly. “I’d prefer it if you were working there than half those nurses. Some of the meanest women I’ve ever met.” You giggle. “Last time I went in there I swear this woman had never seen a patient in her life. She jabbed me three times to try to get my blood and acted like it was my fault. Ain’t that the first thing y’all learn?”

“Not the first thing,” you smile. “But it’s pretty high on the list.”

“Well, I don’t want you to leave me but I can put in a word for you. Just so there will be someone that can properly draw blood.”

“How do you know I can draw blood?” You smile jokingly.

“You could be worse than that woman but at least you’d be nice to look at.”

“Mr. Bodecker!” You gasp with a smile.

He just smirks back at you. “And what did I tell you about that ‘Mr.’ Shit?”

“Calling you ‘Lee’ is…weird,” you explain shyly glancing away.

“Well, calling me ‘Mr. Bodecker’ is even weirder. Call me fuck face before you call me that.” You can only laugh at his antics, covering your mouth with you hand as you giggle. “Got it?”

“Yes…Lee,” you respond through your laughter.

“Good girl.”

Those word haunt you for the rest of the day and all the way back home. You walked right past your mother with the briefest of greetings on your way to your room. There was left over spaghetti from the night before for dinner so your didn’t have to worry about cooking. You just need to get to your room. You just needed a minute.

Maybe five.

Your hips desperately rocked into your fingers as you think of those two simple little words. That drawl around them. The smirk on his lips as he said them. Fuck! You want to be his good girl forever. It felt so good to be good for him. You whimper into your pillow as you cum around your fingers, soaking your hand. A soft curse escapes your lips. You wish it was Lee’s hand. Lee’s mouth. Lee’s cock…

“Shit.”

This really isn’t good.

Your contact with Lee is minimal for the rest of the week but it all just seems to get worse. The lingering smell of his cologne, the feel of his clothes, his presence left in his house. It’s all so intimate. You can hardly stand it!

Weeks pass like this. You living absolute torture by a man who had no idea what he was doing to you.

Until there’s a lull in one of your days and you hear the strangest noise coming from outside.

You were dusting the selves around the living room when you heard crying outside. It must just be a neighborhood kid but you investigate anyway. When you deduce that it’s coming from the backyard you stick your head out the back door tentatively. Maybe the back neighbor? But it’s coming from a bush…

Maybe the tiny borrower neighbors…

Your speculation that it’s just the neighbors is getting slimmer and slimmer.

You squat down to see under Lee’s freshly planted ground covering and notice a little white ball of fur.

“Oh?” A kitten. Barely even had it’s pretty little blue eyes open. When it sees you, it’s crying gets louder and it toddles its way toward you. “Oh, poor baby. You crying for your momma?” It makes its way to your out stretched hand and continues to scream. You better not mess with it. It’s mom will be back.

Your work day was over two hours later and the screaming has continued nonstop. You find an old sheet and make a little bundle for the baby, a cup full of milk, and your left over turkey from lunch and take it outside. It seems like it could just start eating solids as it gnaws on the turkey slice and happily laps up the milk. “There,” you sigh contently as the kitten stops crying and curls on the makeshift bed you made it. “God, I can’t leave you out here.” You were sure the night time animal activity was pretty minimal but anything was a threat to a kitten this small. And you really can’t bring it home…

You hear the front door open and stiffen. Was it already that late? It takes him a moment to walk out on the back patio but you can’t help but notice the relived look on his face.

“You still here?” You nod and open your mouth to explain but he sees the kitten before you can start. “Where’d that come from?”

“It was in the bushes. I just found it today.”

“Well, bring it in and get it cleaned up. I’ll see if I can find some proper bowls.”

To your surprise, Lee kept the cat overnight.

And when you opened the door the next morning, it stumbled over to you greeting you with a loud meow.

“I told you your momma would be back,” Lee rumbles, his voice is still rough from sleep, coming down the stairs in just a plaid pair of sleeping pants and white tank top. There’s a prominent outline where his cock is and you practically start drooling. You’ve never seen him like this. You want more.

“She’s been crying for you all night. Get her something to eat, will ya?”

“Her?” You ask, shaking yourself from your sex crazed stupor.

“Yeah ‘her’! You gave the little tyke a bath and didn’t notice her lack of balls.”

“Oh my god,” you whisper behind a giggle. Lee disappears back upstairs to finish getting ready while you make breakfast for him and the kitten.

“What are we naming her?” Lee asks, stepping into the kitchen with much more clothes on to your disappointment.

“We?” You ask lifting an eyebrow while you stir grits.

“Yes, momma, we. The kid gotta have a name.” Your face heats at him calling you the kitten’s mom.

“Does that make you her dad?” You smile and place a bowl in front of him as well as a plate of scrambled eggs.

“Kid needs a father,” Lee smirks.

“How about ‘Baby’?”

“Baby, huh?” The sheriff laughs.

“Too simple?”

“Nah, she’s got a ‘Baby’ about her. Definitely gonna be a stripper.”

You laugh softly at his teasing. “Well, what do you suggest? Lee Jr.?”

“Nah. Baby’s good,” Lee grins and starts to eat his food. “So, you got a boy?”

“A boy?” You question placing a bowl of canned tuna in front of Baby leaving her to meow happily and make a mess around her, getting more food on the floor than in her mouth.

“Don’t make me ask you twice?” Lee warns.

You let out a soft sigh. “No. I don’t have a man or a significant other.” He just hums in response, focusing on his eggs. “Do you have a girl?”

“I have you.” You can’t stop your laughter at his statement.

“You don’t have me,” you deny, with a smile.

“Don’t I?” Those bright blues meet your gaze and hold it for a moment. You bite your lip softly wanting nothing more than to be his but you aren’t giving in without a fight. He probably feels so good. His lips probably feel like heaven and he must be amazing to cuddle with. A strong warm body to wrap yourself in. You wish you had him every night. That you could wake up to him every day.

“Even if I don’t have you,” Lee starts again and breaking the spell between you, “I know how to get you to come running to me.”

“How’s that?” Your words come out in a soft whisper. It honestly wouldn’t take much. All he’d have to do is ask.

He gives you a once over from the other side of the kitchen island. His blue eyes gauging you before he answers. “I have your Baby.” You burst into giggles at his words. He’s such a flirt.

“I need to get to work. Watch our little girl for a minute. Daddy,” you add. You can practically hear him purr at the word.

Two can play at this game.

As the weather gets warmer, the days get longer, the less you see of Lee. You make him his breakfast before you leave the night before because he leaves for work early and still gets home late. You watch Baby grow during the day while he watches her at night. The only time you get to talk to him are Mondays and sometimes he still goes into work so you don’t get any quality time.

You miss him.

You miss him immensely.

You sigh while you play with Baby. An old bowtie that Lee got as a gift decorates her neck while she leaps after a ribbon.

“How’s your daddy doing, little girl?” You ask the kitten while she plays. You notice her freshly brushed fur and trimmed nails. He takes such good care of his little girl.

You’ve gotten Lee’s house to the point that basic upkeep was all you needed to do. It left you with a lot of down time. You let Lee know that you weren’t doing much besides fixing his meals but he still wanted you around. So you kept yourself busy. You organized his clothes, cleaned out his garage, and your next task was the basement. The place was full of old stuff left over from when his mother was alive apparently. He explicitly told you to ‘throw all that old shit away’ but it had to be sentimental. He had a reason to keep it at one point. You plan on meticulously going through the boxes, getting rid of moth eaten things, and organizing whatever photos and documents you find. You just felt a need to preserve that for him. Maybe it was because your ancestors were a mystery. Maybe because your history was stolen from you.

You just didn’t want that for anyone else.

Baby follows you down into the dim underbelly of the house. There were boxes stacked on boxes stacked on boxes. You definitely had your work cut out for you.

You get so lost in your work, you almost forget about Lee’s dinner. The only thing that reminds you is Baby crying for her lunch. You quickly run upstairs to make a quick gumbo that you can leave simmering while you go back to work.

You come across a box full of old photos that obviously weren’t taken in America. This must be Lee’s family. There’s a woman that jumps out at you in a lot of them. She looks so much like his sister. This must be their mom. She’s beautiful.

You find a smaller box and place all the photos in it carefully. You’ll sort them later. You fill another box of stained and damaged clothes and tug it toward the stairs. You might have to have Lee haul it to the trash for you.

“You still here, momma?” Well, speak of the devil. Baby goes running to greet her father

“I’m down here, Lee,” you call up the basement stairs. Lee’s form fills the door at the top of the steps and you let out a relieved sigh.

“What’re you still doing here? It’s late,” Lee sighs descending the steps to you. He’s in his full uniform. You can see how he’d be so intimidating out in the world. He such a big man.

“It is?” You whisper in embarrassment. “I got kinda distracted.”

He glances around at the meticulous organizing you’re doing before leveling a hard gaze on you. “I told you to throw it out. Not create a bigger mess.”

“You can’t just throw it all away, Lee. I’m sure some things are sentimental,” you insist.

“I can do whatever I want! It’s my house and I want it gone,” Lee frowns at you. You take a frustrated breath and cross your arms. He gives you an amused look. “Are you sassing me?”

“I don’t know, am I?” You counter, pulling your lips to the side, unimpressed by all of it.

“Why can’t you just throw it away?”

“Because I don’t want you to miss it,” you argue placing your hands on your hips.

“Why would I miss it? It’s just a bunch of hoarded garbage.”

“What if your kids want to see it? Or your sister’s kids?”

“They will never see that.” He glares at you resolutely. There’s finality to his statement but you’re far from done with this argument.

“But, Lee-“

“That’s enough. Get your butt up those stairs. We’re gonna eat and then I’m taking you home.” You let out a disgruntled huff and press passed him. He grips your elbow, halting you in your tracks, and pulling you back towards him. If you weren’t so frustrated with him, you’d be a flustered mess from being this close but right now you just want to knock some sense into him.

You frown up at him, his icy gaze searching yours, waiting for you to break under is scrutiny but you refuse. You’re too feisty for that. He had every intention on telling you to watch your mouth, fix your attitude, that he’s the one in charge around here. But he knows all that is a lie. There’s no arguing with you and you’ve been running this place since he brought you home. Lee finally sighs before releasing you.

He can control you about as much as he can control Baby.

“Let’s just eat something and calm down, alright? I miss seeing you. I don’t want to spend the evening arguing.” You blink up at him. You could just go home. You don’t have to stay.

But you miss him, too.

You nod once and head upstairs. You call home to let your mom know you’ll be late before setting two places at the table while Lee changes up stairs.

It’s a tension filled dinner full of clipped responses and frustrated eye rolls, mostly on your end. To Lee’s credit, he’s making every effort to be civil. You’re just being stubborn for a future you have no real vested interest in. You finish your food with Baby curled on your lap, completely oblivious to the tension between her parents.

Lee gets up and starts clearing the table. You start to get up to help him but he just presses a hand to your shoulder. “Sit. The baby’s sleeping.” You smile up at him and settled back down while he cleans the kitchen. Your fingers stroke Baby’s soft fur. She looks so comfortable. You can’t help but close your eyes as well, leaning back in the chair comfortably.

You didn’t even notice that you fell asleep until you awaken in Lee’s arms. You gasp, jerking in his grip making him chuckle softly.

“Calm down. You’re alright.” You settle back into his embrace, wrapping your arms around his shoulders comfortably.

You’ll let him take you wherever he wants like this.

“I’m still mad at you,” you mutter, nuzzling into his shoulder.

“I know.” He lowers you onto a bed. You instantly recognize the floral comforter of the spare bedroom bed. Baby happily curls up near your head while Lee sits on the side of the bed. “We’re not supposed to go to bed angry,” Lee smiles down at you as you watch him. He presses a loose strand of hair from your face.

“I’m not the one not making any sense,” you yawn, stretching across the bed to get comfortable.

“Alright. Can I explain?”

“It’s your house,” you parrot.

Lee holds his tongue but he wants to tell that mouth of yours off so bad. Then he wants to kiss it until you can’t think straight…

“No one can see that stuff, momma.”

“Why?”

Lee groans at the thought of even needing to explain it. He scrubs his eyes but your stare is unwavering, giant brown orbs waiting for a good explanation.

“It’s easier to just integrate, to forget that I’m from somewhere else, than to be an immigrant.”

“Is that right?” You smirk, completely unimpressed. “Must be nice.” You roll away to face away from him, staring at the wall.

“Look, I don’t,” Lee groans, frustratedly. “I didn’t choose this. My mother never even taught me Romanian. She never talked about it. Never once mentioned my father. She wanted us to be American. Nothing else. She wanted it to be easier for us.” You roll your eyes at the idea. The ridiculousness of it all. “I know you can never take off your skin color. It will never be easier for you. But I can help. I want to help.”

“Do you have any idea what I would give to know where I came from?” You whisper, tears stinging your eyes. “And you just want to throw that away?” Your voice breaks at the last word.

“Hey,” Lee soothes, pulling you to his chest. “You know this world we live in. You’re either white or nothing.”

“The world won’t always be like this, Lee!” You cry, pressing away from him.

“I hope to God it won’t. But for right now, everyone else need protection. I just don’t want you to be hurt. I don’t want anyone to be hurt.”

Tears spring from your eyes. “It’s all so stupid.”

“I know.” Lee pulls you into his arms as you cry into his shoulder. “It’s ridiculous. I hate it. I hate it so much.” He holds you while you cry, rubbing your back and pressing kisses to your temple. You eventually sniffle and start to calm down.

“You still mad at me?” Lee mutters, squeezing you a little tighter.

“No,” you grumble. You’re mad at the entire situation but you can’t stay mad at Lee. Lee just hums and continues to rub your back.

“Stay here tonight.”

“Oh no! I can’t! I should really go home,” you trail.

“That wasn’t a question. You’re gonna stay right here. I need you close.”

“My mom will throw a fit,” you warn.

“I’ll explain it all to her,” Lee smiles watching you. Pinning you under his pale gaze.

“You’re going to explain how a single man and a single woman stayed in a house together and nothing happened?” You laugh darkly as you rub at your swollen eyes.

“I don’t mind bending the truth for you,” Lee smirks. “Besides, it won’t be a lie if you stay in your room and I stay in mine.” He pulls one of your hands from your face to rub the back of it with his thumb.

“What if I have a nightmare?” You whisper.

“Well,” Lee clears his throat and the most naughty look crosses his features, “you can always come tell me about it.” Lee’s hand slides from yours to grip your thigh. “You know where everything is.”

You smile up at the man and he presses a kiss to your cheek. “Goodnight, daddy.”

“Goodnight, momma.” He pats Baby on the head before leaving the room.

You take a calming breath and settle into the loaned bed before picking your way to the guest bathroom to get cleaned up. You find a set of pjs Lee left for you on the counter. You’re absolutely swimming in the shirt and the pants won’t stay on your hips so you forgo them but they’re so comfortable and smelt of him.

There was so much of him in this house.

You sigh softly and curl around Baby but sleep is fleeting in the unfamiliar environment. You try to be good and stay put. You really do. But thirty minutes into your attempt, Baby gets up and starts scratching at the closed door. You call her back to bed but she just ignores you so you get up to let her out and watch her trot right up to Lee’s door to start scratching there. She must miss sleeping with her daddy.

You probably would, too.

You were sure he’d hear the little kitten whining outside of his door, but when he doesn’t answer you go to let her in. You start with a tentative knock before opening the door to his call.

Lee’s sitting on his bed in just his boxers, a lit cigarette in his hand. You know you should be more flustered but your body moves all on its own. It knows where home is. Lee doesn’t even say a word. He just opens his arms and accepts you into his lap as you press kisses to his lips. A bit chapped and he smelled of smoke but you knew you were right where you need to be.

“Nightmare?” Lee smirks as you pull away for air.

You smile and shake your head. “Your little girl missed you.”

“Can’t fuck with her routine.” Lee pulls you back into him. You didn’t know how much was actually wrong until you felt this right. Strong arms wrapped around you, cradled so delicately against a warm body. Your fingers cling to Lee’s shoulders while his hands encircle your waist. “Stay with me?” This was a question. A request really. One you can’t say no to. You nod once and curl back into him. He pulls you down into the bed, holding you tightly against him. Lee takes a last drag of his cigarette before putting it out and focusing solely on you.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted you in my bed,” Lee sighs, pressing his face into your shoulder. His stubble tickles your skin so pleasantly making you smile. You probably have an idea but you keep that to yourself as one of your fantasies plays out.

Here, comfort is easy to find. It feels right, smells right. It’s better than your own bed. Baby curls up on the pillow behind you. Her soft purrs lulling you as Lee strokes to back of your neck, his fingers tracing the top of your spine, exploring just a little under your borrowed shirt. Just enough to keep you warm and close. You let out a soft content sigh and fall asleep almost instantly.

Waking up is hard. You don’t remember sleeping so deeply. You attempt to detangle yourself from the unfamiliar sheets before you feel a body behind you. The events of the previous night flood back to your mind as you stretch and yawn. “Lee?” He hums softly, thwarting your attempt to sit up as he immediately pulls you back down against him.

You smile at his stubborn tiredness. “We have to get up.”

“We’re playing hooky,” he mumbles.

Hooky? Is the sheriff allowed to just take the day off? “What about me?” You laugh tiredly.

“What about ‘we’re’ don’t you understand?” Lee grumbles.

“Are you sure?” You ask in disbelief.

“Go back to sleep, momma.” Getting some extra rest did sound amazing. You turn over, giving your shoulder a break, and curl back up in Lee’s embrace. You rest your head on his warm chest, your fingers curling into the thick hair there. You close your eyes as your leg wraps over Lee’s hips. Sure, you could just fall back to sleep. Falling back asleep sounded amazing…

“Lee,” you whisper. He lets out another gruff hum. “I’ve never slept at a man’s house before.”

“Don’t tell me you’re a virgin,” he chuckles.

“No!” You quickly deny. “I’ve just never stayed over.”

A deep hum rumbles through his body. “Glad I could be your first.” You smile up at him and place a kiss on his lips. “One more,” he requests softly and you happily obliged. “Last one?” You giggle and kiss him again. “Can’t get enough of those pretty lips pretty girl.” You curl into his side and actually start to nod off.

For a moment.

Before Baby leaps onto the bed and lets out a questioning chirp.

“Now you’ve gone and woke the baby,” Lee accuses turning over to hold you with both arms.

“Me?” Your voice causes the kitten to let out a happy meow and jumps over Lee to lick your nose. “Oh! Baby!” You laugh pulling her from your face.

He yawns and squeezes you. “She never does that to me.”

“She’s happy her momma’s here,” you goad. Lee retaliates by spanking you softly. “Aren’t you so happy your mommy’s here? You don’t have to play with your mean old daddy,” you coo at the little kitten, stroking her stomach when she rolls over for pets.

Lee’s big hand runs over your stomach much more intimately than any other touch he’s given you. His thumb runs just under your breast sending heat radiating straight down to your pussy.

“If you two are busy playing,” his hand comes to a rest between your breasts as he rolls over you slightly, pinning you under him, “who’s gonna play with me?” You let out a soft gasp. Your hips lift to find any kind of friction for your core but your lack of panties makes that impossible.

Until Lee’s thigh fills that space. You let out a soft whimper as he grinds back against you.

“Do you need daddy to play with you, too, momma?” You can’t find your voice but you can nod. Lee kisses just behind your ear and you feel like you’re floating. “Let me hear you tell me.” He grinds a little harder against your fluttering core making your whine.

“I-I need you, daddy,” you whimper into the pillow.

His voice is a deep rumble through him as he nuzzles his face against your neck, nipping lightly at your ear lobe. “What do you need?”

Ugh! This should be criminal. His thumb strays to brush against your clothed nipple making you arch against him.

“Need you, Lee!” You cry out.

“That’s all you had to say.” You can hear the smile in his voice. “Since you’ve never stayed with a man then I’m guessing you’ve been missing out on the joys of mornin’ sex?”

“Uh-huh,” you whine, your hips gyrating against his thick thigh, taking what you need from him.

“Well, that’s one of the best games a man and a woman can play.” His fingers undo the top couple buttons of your borrowed pjs just enough for your bare cleavage to show through.

“When do we start, daddy?” You breathe. You’re so close. So fucking close. Lee can barely focus on anything but the way your hips move for him and you can’t focus on anything but the way he feels against you. “Oh fuck,” you groan as you cum against his thigh.

“Now,” Lee smiles watching you come apart before him. Your thighs constrict around his as you feel your high pulsing through you. Your whole body rolls slightly at how good it feels until a telltale bulge presses into you. You let out a soft, surprised chirp and roll your head to face him. Your hand finds his soft belly and travels lower and lower until you can palm his hard on.

Oh. He’s big.

You bite your lower lip and grip him through his boxers.

“Now, look who’s playing,” Lee grunts and sits up to press his boxers down. You unbutton your shirt the rest of the way before Lee notices. “Come here, beautiful.” He pulls you onto his lap and presses your shirt from your shoulders. “Gorgeous,” he sighs and palms your breasts.

“Me or my boobs?” You smile.

“Both.” You giggle and reach between your thighs to jack him off. He makes the most blissed out face. It’s gorgeous. You rub the bead of precum he produces over his tip and down his shaft and, God, you can’t wait for him to fill you up.

“You do have condoms, don’t you? Or do you really want another baby?”

“I’d love to have a baby with you,” Lee mutters pining you with those icy eyes. Your pussy flutters just thinking about him fucking you until you’re pregnant and completely full of him. “Top drawer.” He nods to one of the bedside tables and you shake yourself from your perverted thoughts. You climb over him to find them giving him the perfect view of your ass. He grips it roughly as you rummage through his beside table until you find what you’re looking for.

“I’m surprised you didn’t know exactly where they are,” Lee jokes as you reclaim his lap.

“I don’t go through your things,” you quickly deny.

“Then you’d have no idea where I put my spare car keys?”

“First drawer in the table by the door,” you recite quickly.

“Don’t go through my things, huh?” Your face heats after he catches you red handed but Lee only laughs at your embarrassment. “This is practically your house, momma. I’d expect you to know where everything is. Now, if we can get back to what we were doing,” he trails making you smile and focus back on his cock.

You roll the condom down his shaft as you continue to jack him off until he’s practically begging for you. Then you finally lift your hips to feel the bliss of his heavy cock filling you so perfectly.

“Fuck, daddy,” you whine as he stretches you.

“God, you’re tight,” Lee grunts. You hold yourself there with him deep inside of you as your body adjusts. You could live on this cock alone. You take a shuttering breath before finally meeting his gaze again. “Come ‘er, momma,” Lee groans pulling you down to his chest. He flips you onto your side and pulls your thigh over his hip once more. “Liked having you like this. Felt so good.” You start to rock your hips experimentally making Lee groan out your name. Your hips roll into his while he holds your ass, encouraging your pleasure, until you find that spot. Deep inside of you, there’s a little spot that you know will have you screaming in no time. You aim Lee’s tip there over and over leaving you a whining mess for him.

“Right there? Is that where you want me?” Lee asks with a small smile. You can only nod and push further into his chest. Lee chuckles at the mess you’ve made of yourself and can only think of how much more he’s going to ruin you.

He rolls you completely under him, his bulk a settling weight over you. Lee carefully arranges your thighs around him, placing them safely over his own.

Then he fucking destroys you.

You don’t know where you end and he begins but you know it’s perfect. Your voice comes out in sharp shouts at the peak of each of his thrusts. “That’s my girl,” Lee grunts as he rails into you. His movements so precise. So perfect. His weight, his hold on you. It’s all so good.

Lee presses a kiss you your lips to still your whimpers but you can’t help it, it feels so right. Your cries get louder as you feel that knot inside you get tighter and higher. One of your thighs hooks around his back while the other presses into his hips. Just a little more. Just a little deeper…

“Right there! Please, Lee! Right th-aaah ah ah ah!” You squeak as you cum undone. Your eyes flutter shut and stars dance behind you lids as waves of pleasure pulse through you.

You hips spasm into Lee’s sporadically as he chuckles breathlessly. “That good, momma?” You can only bite your lip and squirm under him in response. He presses his lips against yours once more, kissing you until you come back around and start kissing him back. Your hands cup his face pulling him into more kisses before wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

“You’re amazing, daddy,” you sigh contently against his lips.

He grins back at you before rolling back over on his back, pulling you with him. “Your turn.” You smile sheepishly at your chance to pleasure him.

“My turn,” you whisper. Your hands find his shoulders and lean over him, finding some leverage on your knees.

You bounce on his hips experimentally, feeling his girth drag against your walls until he’s back against that spot but this is for him…

You spread your legs a little wider to allow for his frame to fit a little more comfortably between them. Then you lean back, one hand resting somewhere near his knee while the other rubs his soft belly. Your hips loose another experimental wave before letting go and humping into him. It feels like he’s ripping you apart in such a good way. Lee’s hand finds your hip as he guides you slightly but you didn’t need much. You seemed to fit each other perfectly. Know each other carnally. Neither of you need much coaching. It all seemed to flow.

“Fuck, momma. That’s it. Little faster,” he spanks your thigh to egg you on.

“You like that, daddy?” You smile.

“I fucking love that,” Lee groans. You lean over him to press a kiss to his lips while you continue to ride him. Fuck he feels so heavy and good and right inside of you. You let out a soft moan.

So perfect.

His other hand wraps around you and starts to help you along, thrusting up into you and meeting your soft waves. Curses tumble from your lips every time he hits a particularly sensitive spot inside of you until it starts to feel like he’s aiming for it. Over and over until you’re like jello in his grip, holding on limply while he fucks you within an inch of your life.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, momma,” Lee groans.

“Please, Lee! I need you,” you babble, so close to your own breaking point.

“Gonna get you there,” he promises and his thrust get rougher and faster and he knows right where he needs to abuse you. Before you know it you’re gasping and tossing your head back in a silent scream as you cum around him.

“Shit,” Lee groans and quickly follows you, spilling his seed into the condom still buried inside of you. You both pant for air, watching each other as you glow in your after shocks.

Those bright blue eyes watch you, taking all of you in from your mussed hair to your soft curves. “You okay, momma?” Lee asks after catching his breath. You just nod and collapse into his warm chest. He chuckles softly and wraps his arms around you. “Fuck, you’re beautiful.”

“You’re beautiful,” you counter with a small smile burying your face in his chest. You could stay like this forever.

But Lee’s growling stomach says otherwise.

“I’ll go make us some breakfast.” You attempt to pull away but Lee keeps his grip on you.

“I’ll help,” he insists and help he does. Helps by swatting your behind under his borrowed shirt and helps by pressing kisses to your neck while you fry eggs and he really helps when he pulls down his pants and has you keep his cock warm for him while he eats. He’s such a good helper you think as he rails you against the dining room table after he finishes his breakfast.

Lunch are simple ham and cheese sandwiches after you choke on his cock and dinner is your pussy spread over the kitchen counter right before your roast finishes in the oven.

You really don’t want to leave but you didn’t have a change of clothes and living the rest of your life in Lee’s borrowed shirts didn’t seem practical. So Lee begrudgingly takes you home after a long day of hard work with his help.

“Where the hell have you been?” Your mother shouts the moment you set foot through the door, breaking you from the spell Lee put you under.

You freeze before you even have a chance to close the door behind you. “Get in this house before anyone else sees you running the streets!” You’re floored by the accusation but follow her direction and silently stepping into the house.

“Where are have you been?” She repeats a little more calmly but you know better. There’s a level of anger you’ve never met under that calm.

“I called and told you I’d be at Lee’s late.” Yesterday you don’t add and hope she forgets all about that by keeping your tone even.

“Lee’s?” You mother frowns. “That’s awfully familiar for the sheriff.”

“Oh my god,” you mutter under your breath. Were you really about to get yelled at because of this?

“Girl, you know I don’t allow that kind of back talk in my house. Now, you told me you’d be home late and then we never heard another word from you for an entire day! Where have you been?”

Oh boy.

“Well, it’s just that, mom. I lost track of time and stayed late so he had me stay for dinner and at that point it was so late he just told me to stay in the guest room. I didn’t want to call and wake the whole house…”

“I don’t care if you wake the whole neighborhood. I want to know where my daughters are once the sun sets.”

This is ridiculous.

“Mom, I’ve been in an entirely different state for the past six years,” you argue.

“As long as you’re under my roof, you’re under my rules! You could’ve been dead in a ditch! You could’ve been hanging!”

“Oh, mother! Honestly,” you sigh, stamping your foot lightly on the ground.

“To your room. Now.”

“I’m almost 30. You can’t just send me to my room,” you argue. “I’m only here to take care of you. Not to be treated like a child. I should be in California but I’m stuck here. For you. And as long as I’m here for you, I can do whatever I want outside of this house!”

Shock is written all over your mother’s face by your words. You’re shocked by your words. You’ve never talked back to your mother. The look of hurt and anguish on her face is heartbreaking.

You take a calming breath and move to sit on the couch across from her. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t speak to you that way.”

“No, you shouldn’t,” she agrees.

“I haven’t done anything to make it seem like I’ll make bad decisions in life, have I?” You ask the woman, resting your elbows on your knees tiredly. “I didn’t drop out of college, get pregnant, and work at a dinner. I’m not the one that needs to be policed. If I want to spend the night at my boss’s house, then you just have to trust me.”

She watches you for a moment. “What’s he like?” She finally questions.

You contemplate the question for a moment. “He’s very sweet. And so smart. We have a cat. Her name is Baby. He just wants to help people.”

“Was it good?” She laughs.

“Mother!” You cry out of embarrassment, covering your face.

“You can tell me,” she smiles. “He’s a good looking man. I may be sick but I still have eyes, girl.”

You regard her with a shy smile for a moment before deciding to answer. “It was amazing.” She cackles at your answer making you giggle. “I hear a lot of talk about white men but I’ve never heard anything about Europeans,” she trails.

“Alright, I’m not talking about this anymore,” you laugh and stand up. “What do you want for dinner?”

“What’d you make Lee?” Your face immediately heats as you spin away to the kitchen.

“Not talking about it!” You cry as you rush away.

You hum softly to the radio while sweeping. It was a hot day. The sun was working over time but you were enjoying the slight breeze from open windows and the freshly made lemonade and iced tea you conjured up this morning. But that wasn’t the only thing changing. Lee was taking Mondays off again and sometimes Fridays. You loved when he took Fridays off. Lee was always in such a good mood. You’d let yourself in and crawl into his bed and curl up next to his warm sleeping body. Sometimes he’d fuck you until you couldn’t think straight and sometimes you’d just sleep in and only get out of bed because of Baby’s screaming.

This morning was one of those fuck your brains out mornings.

It left you feeling like you were walking on a cloud. It always made it impossible to do actual work in this condition. Lee didn’t expect you to. He expected you to be his little house wife on days like this. To serve him food and ride his dick accordingly. And you were happy to oblige.

“This one’s about you, Baby,” you smile at the cat perched on the back of Lee’s couch as she watches the broom go back and forth. Desi Arnez’s voice crones through the speakers with one of the songs from the popular sitcom.

“There’s a brand new baby at our house, the nicest little gift we've ever had,” you sing along, dancing around the broom while Baby watches on in amusement.

You remain oblivious to a second set of eyes on you, watching you twirl gracefully around the living room. You’re so beautiful.

Lee waits until you’re facing away from him to make his move. He slinks up behind you and wraps his arms comfortably around your waist making you jump in surprise.

“Oh, Lee!” You giggle swatting his arm.

“Did I scare you, momma?” He chuckles before burying his face in your neck and dancing along with you. Your hands wrap over his while you sway to the music. He releases you into a turn before pulling you back into him. “I didn’t know you liked dancing,” Lee sighs into your skin.

“You never asked,” you smile.

“I should take you out.”

“That would imply that we’re actually dating.”

“Aren’t we?” He questions but you know it’s not really a question. This is something the two of you have yet to really flesh out. Dating meant marriage and marriage meant…

“You know I can’t stay here forever,” you remind the sheriff gently.

“Can’t you?” There’s another one of those fake questions. He knows you can’t. You have a passion beyond cleaning houses. You want to help people. “You can just move in here. I’ll take care of you. Give you whatever you want. Give you a baby.”

“We have a baby, Lee,” you smile sadly. He spins you in his grip to make you face him but you avoid his gaze.

“Look at me-“

“Lee.”

“I’ll talk to administrators over there-“

“Lee.”

“I’m the law around here and what I say goes-“

“Lee!”

“And I want you to stay!”

“I won’t work somewhere I’m not wanted!” You cry, finally looking up at him. “Every day will be an uphill battle and I don’t want to fight.”

“Not even for me?”

Shit.

That breaks you. You didn’t know how much of a hold he had on your heart until this moment. Could you leave him? Leaving him would mean one of the most devastating things in your life just happened. Could you live without his comfort? Without running home to him when you could no longer run home?

“I-I wish we could stay like this forever,” you whisper, dropping your head to his chest.

“I would never let you do it on your own. You know that. You’ll always have me. You just need to choose me, too.”

He makes it sound so simple. Like he can just go in and threaten an entire hospital and come out victorious. But you know better. That’s a fairy tale and the real world doesn’t work like that.

He holds you like that for a long moment. Long enough for Baby to come paw at your skirt to check on you.

“Your momma’s trying to get rid of us, little girl.” The kitten screams up at you as if she knows exactly what Lee’s talking about. Her giant blue eyes stare up at you expectantly. Just like her daddy’s.

“Lee,” you warn, not wanting to discuss it anymore.

“One date,” he asks. “I’ll come pick you up and we’ll dance all night. Then you can tell me to leave you alone and it will go back to me being your boss and nothing else.”

“But Lee-“

“It’s gotta end somewhere,” he argues. “We can’t keep playing house forever.”

Can’t we?

You got all dolled up under the scrutiny of your sister and mother. “Who are you going out with? Where are you going?” You just ignore them while blushing your cheeks. You don’t know why you’re getting so dressed up. Lee’s seen you at your worst and still seems to find something he likes. It was nice knowing you didn’t have to look your best for him. That was the kind of thing you wanted in a man.

There were a lot of things about Lee you wanted…

But you couldn’t stay here.

Right?

You can’t stay here?

It’s backward and racist. You have a one way ticket to California. A brand new place built on different principles. You could finally kiss this bible belt southern town goodbye for good. And that’s exactly what you want?

You’d find someone your age. Maybe a lawyer or a doctor.

But they wouldn’t be Lee.

There’s a knock at the front door while you apply your powder numbly.

“I’ll get it,” you sister sighs and makes her way to the door. You hear Lee’s deep drawl and you’re instantly drawn in. His voice, his laugh.

“You’re in love.”

Your gaze snaps up to your mother in the mirror’s reflection. There’s a smug look on her face that says it all. “You’re in love and you’re scared.” She shrugs with a soft laugh. “The heart wants what the heart wants. Stop fighting it, girl.” She leaves to go greet Lee and tell him you’ll be out in a minute.

Tears start to fill your eyes. Is it that obvious? Are you in love? How were you supposed to go out and have a good time with all of this on your mind? A tear escapes your control as you hear your mom directing him back to your room. You attempt to quickly wipe it away but he sees you just as you dab at your eye with a tissue.

“You that upset to go out with me?” Lee jokes, leaning against the door frame. He looks so nice in a blue dress shirt and slacks. Like your own personal dream. You just want him to hold you but you don’t want depend on him. Right? You want to be your own woman but you want to be his so badly…

He gives your reflection a once over. “You look fucking gorgeous, momma. Too beautiful to be crying.”

“I’m just feeling a little lost,” you admit after sniffling softly.

“Well, finish up. We’ll talk in the car.” You nod slightly and attempt to finish you makeup quickly while your family entertains Lee.

This is as good as it’s going to get. You give yourself one last once over. You brush a hand down your blush pink dress and make sure your curls are perfectly placed. Some part of the back of your mind reminds you that you need to look good on Lee’s arm and that not just anyone can go out with the sheriff. You need to put on a smile and act like everything is-

You quickly squash that notion. Lee’s never expected any more of you than to take care of yourself, him, and Baby. That wasn’t going to change now.

You take a deep breath and step into the living room. Lee is instantly on his feet. “There’s my girl.” Your face heats as you look away.

“You mind your manners and have a good time,” your mother bids placing a kiss on your cheek before Lee wraps his arm around you.

“She’s in good hands,” he promises and leads you out to his car. “We have a reservation to make,” Lee sighs opening the door for you.

You give him a dubious look when he settles into the driver’s seat. “None of the restaurants around here need a reservation,” you frown skeptically.

“We ain’t eating around here,” he smirks. “Come here, momma. What’s going on in that pretty head?” You smile slightly up at him before sliding across the bench to sit at his side. His strong arm wraps around you as you rest your hand on his belly. “Or we can just cuddle if you don’t feel like talking.” He rubs his hand up and down your arm comfortingly. You don’t exactly feel like talking but it seems like you have a bit of a drive ahead of you. He peels out of your neighborhood and on to the main road as the radio crones on with big band music.

“I want to talk,” you whisper. Lee only pulls his hand away for a moment to turn off the radio before focusing back on you. His hand finds your waist and pulls you a little closer. “I-I don’t want to stay here, Lee. You know that. But I love you. I can’t see having to go on without you. I don’t want to go on without you.”

A soft hum rumbles through him before he speaks. “Then what are we going to do about that?”

“I’ll apply for the local hospital again, I guess.”

“You guess?” Lee jokes. “Or you can be my little stay at home wife. Pretend you’re in California all you want. I’ll plant some palm trees and put in a pool. You can take care of Baby all day. She would love that.”

You laugh softly. “Maybe I’ll have to be your own personal nurse. Take care of my big strong man when he’s sick.”

“Will you dress up in one of those skimpy little outfits?”

“For you, of course.”

You reach up to press a kiss to his cheek but he pulls you back for a quick kiss. “I love you so much, momma. I’d do anything for you. Don’t ever forget that.” You nod and let out a little giggle. “Now, give me another kiss.” You happily oblige. “One more. So fucking good for me. Now sit back before I have to stop this car and remind you why you love me so much.” You let out a laugh and curl back into him.

A little over an hour later, he stops at a very popular looking club in Columbus.

“We came all the way out here to go dancing?” You smile, scooting across the car bench to look out the window.

“The clubs in town are stale as hell,” Lee sighs and moves to get out of the car.

“Wait!” You cry, stopping him as the valet reaches his door. “Thank you for this, daddy.” You press another kiss to his lips that quickly turns into a show for the valet.

“Save some of that energy for later,” Lee smiles and presses a kiss to your forehead before finally stepping out of the car.

You expected to get all kind of looks: the sheriff out with that little black girl that ran off to the big city and had to come crawling back with her tail between her legs…alright, no one’s ever said that but you know someone’s thinking it. Maybe. But this far from home…

No one knows you here. They don’t even seem to care that you’re different races. It was…nice. You giggle softly as Lee dips you only to pull you back up into a soft kiss.

“I’m really glad I said yes,” you smile as he holds you close.

“So much for all those tears,” Lee chuckles making you roll your eyes. That was one time. “I gotta talk to you,” Lee mutters against your lips before pulling you back to your table. “I didn’t know a good time to tell you this but I talked to one of the managers at the hospital.”

“Ugh, Lee! I don’t want to think about that drama! Can’t we just enjoy our night?” You whine taking a drink of your cocktail.

“You think I’d tell you bad news right now? I’m trying to get laid tonight.” You can’t help but laugh at him. “Got you another interview.”

“But we just talked about this,” you argue in disbelief. You literally just told him you’d stay less than an hour ago in the car.

“I might have done some shit behind your back,” the sheriff admits. When you let out an annoyed huff but he quickly continues. “I just knew you wouldn’t leave me.”

“So sure of yourself.” You roll your eyes at him. “And what’d you do to get this interview? Hold him up at gun point?”

“Somethin’ like that,” Lee drawls, leaning back in his chair with a smug look on his face. You just smile and shake your head at him. “All we did was talk. I promise no one got hurt. No threats were made.”

“Really?”

“Why would I lie to you, momma?”

“You’d certainly arrange things without telling me,” you pout but then give him a once over, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. He is doing this for you, too. He knew how hard it was being away from family while you were in school. You loved your independence but you liked the comfort of having a steady place that’s home. He wanted to be that home. Your steady place.

You don’t want anything else in the world besides that.

“I guess you’re getting laid tonight.”

He gives you a shit eating grin that tells you all you need to know before leaning back on the table. “How do you plan on thanking me?”

“What would you like, daddy?” You ask innocently, looking at him through your lashes. “I can suck your big, fat dick? Or keep you warm all night? Or maybe…”

“Maybe?”

“Maybe I’ll let you fuck a baby into me.”

“Fuck, momma,” Lee groans before adjusting his pants not so subtly. “You done here? I gotta get you home.”

“Maybe we should get a hotel,” you suggest thinking about how long the drive is.

“Car’s free,” Lee grins pulling you from your seat and toward the door.

It doesn’t take him long to find a dark alley and it takes you absolutely no time find yourself on your knees at his side choking on his cock.

“Fuck, momma,” Lee groans spanking your ass as it wiggles in the air. “Didn’t know you had all that in you.” You let out a satisfying hum as you swallow him making him moan. You feel his fingers hitching up your dress inch by inch. He spanks you again once he clears the fabric and grips your cheek through your panties. “That’s it. My perfect girl.” He slides his hand under the fabric to find your slit already soaking for him. “You want my cock, momma? You’re so wet for me.” You nod as much as you can around him and Lee grips the roots of your hair, dragging your face up to meet his with a sloppy kiss. You moan into his mouth as you cup his face with your hands, feeling the rough stubble from the day.

Lee lets out a soft grunt as he repositions you across the car bench. His face nuzzles kisses against your neck. “I love you so fucking much. You know that, momma?” He mutters. His finger trace the band of your underwear before slipping them down your legs. You can only whimper as your mind races to how he’s going to destroy you.

“Need you, daddy.”

Those bright blue eye flick up to you, pinning you with his gaze. “You got me,” he assures you. You hear his belt buckle and moments later he’s stretching your core to its max. He’s so big and fills you so perfectly. You can feel every bump and vein and it’s so right. You’ve had sex with him regularly but this time felt special. You’ve never taken a man raw before. You felt ready.

Lee’s hips start to thrust into you erasing everything from your mind but him. He knows you so well that he doesn’t need to search for that spot. He just goes straight for it and has you screaming for him. Your stockinged foot finds the steering wheel for a bit of leverage so you can thrust back into him.

His hand grips the back of your thigh, helping you out while he folds you into yourself just so he can get a little deeper. You curse as he grinds against that spot mercilessly. His weight is so comfortable on top of you. You always want this. You want him by your side, to wake up next to him every day, to grow old with him. And as he gets you so close to your peak, you know you can’t live without him. “Lee! Fuck! P-please! I’m so close!”

A soft chuckle emits from the man before he presses a kiss to your lips. “You’re so fucking cute when you’re falling apart for me. Let go. I’ll catch you.”

You nod vigorously. Your eyes squeeze shut as your focus is set on your core and how much pressure he’s putting on you.

Whimpers falls from your lips as your hips sputter into his smooth thrusts, chasing your high.

“Please, please, please, please,” you chant just loud enough for Lee to hear.

“Begging for it now?” Lee laughs. His hips snap into yours now, giving you exactly what you need.

You’re a whining whimpering mess when you finally cum. Stars shoot across your closed lids as you try to smoother your face between the bench and Lee’s kisses.

“Good girl. Always my good girl,” Lee praises. Your body clenches around him at his words and he instantly knows something new about you.

He pulls away from your kiss covered jaw to watch you with an amused look. Your body is still writhing with pleasure under him and he can’t wait to give you move.

“You like being my good girl, momma? Wanna keep me happy?”

You moan at his words, humping against him, wanting him to move again but he continues to grind into the spot driving you crazy.

“Use your words,” he chuckles brushing a mussed curl from your forehead.

“I-I wanna be your good girl,” you whimper, finally cracking your eyes open to meet his gaze.

“Then you’ll make me happy and stay here?”

You stare at him for a beat before you nod. “I’ll stay.”

A smile spreads across his lips before he gets back to destroying you.

“Fuck,” he groans softly, your core keeps squeezing him mercilessly but you can’t control it. He can’t control it either as he slams into you despite your grip on him. You need him so bad. You need him to make you his wife. You need to take care of him. You need him to take care of you. You’ve never needed anything or anyone so bad in your adult life.

“You feel amazing, momma. Made just for me, you know that?”

“I’m yours,” you cry, your head tossed back against the seat so close to your peak again.

“All mine,” Lee sighs. “You gonna cum with me?”

“Uh huh!” You exhale. “Wanna be your good girl! Wanna cum for you, daddy!”

“Fuck!” Lee growls gripping your thigh a little tighter. The thought that it might bruise ghosts through your mind but you welcome it. He’s leaving his mark on you. Claiming you. It just makes you hotter. Tighter. Wetter.

“That’s it, momma. Cum for me,” he begs, his hips snapping into yours now.

So close. So close. Just a little- “Lee-eh-eh-eak!” You scream as you cum, spilling onto his stomach and the base of his cock. Lights flash behind your lids and you’re left a moaning mess as he fills you to the brim. You feel his seed leak past your lips to pool between you but he stays buried deep as ribbons of cum paint your insides, ready to do it’s job and make sure you’re full of him for the next nine months.

Of course, you know that its a relatively safe day for unprotected sex.

But part of you hopes it took.

Lee’s breaths come in quiet huffs as you writhe under him. He stays buried in you while he slowly softens, giving you just that little bit of extra friction. “You alright, momma?” He smiles before pressing a kiss to your lips. You chase after them blindly as he pulls away, not ready to open your eyes. No ready for the euphoria to end.

“More kisses,” is your only response and Lee happily obliges. He bombards you with kisses until you’re both gasping for air and space. Lee lets out a soft sigh and sits up, pulling you up with him. He easily slips from you and you contract, attempting to keep all of his essence inside.

“Fuck,” Lee chuckles seeing his handy work between your legs. “Look at you just leaking with cum. You’re gonna make me hard again.” You smile and glance away, embarrassed. “Let me clean you up.” Lee finds his handkerchief in his back pocket and gently cleans up your core. “Relax or you’ll be holding it the entire drive,” he jokes. You let out a soft sigh and attempt to push out what you’ve been holding on to. “Good girl,” Lee praises making you giggle and bury your face in your hands. “Shit. If I knew that had so much power over you, I’d have said since day one.”

“You did once pretty early on,” you admit. “I fell asleep with my fingers in me that night.”

Lee laughs softly and is such a nice noise. You want to hear it forever.

“Well, shit! Tell me next time you need to jack off to something I said. I wanna watch.” You giggle even harder leaning back against the door as Lee finds your panties. He slips them back up your legs and over your hips so gently. He knows by now that he has to be careful with you after fucking you into a stupor. You watch as he slips on your shoes and places a soft kiss on each ankle.

He’s perfect.

“Lee?” He hums softly before looking up at you. “I love you.”

He just smirks back at you. “I love you more.”

You doze at Lee’s side as he drives you back to town. He hasn’t decided if he’ll take you home or to his place. You don’t care either way. You mom knows not to wait up. But you hope he’ll take you home. His home. Where your Baby is. And where your man is. Your fingers grip his thigh in your sleep, trying to keep him close even in your dreams. Your little hand is so close to his cock he starts to get stiff again.

He chuckles softly so he doesn’t wake you. “Guess you're coming home with me, huh?”

You wait in the sterile administration room of Mead General. Lee pretty much had to drop you off at the entrance to make you come. No amount of convincing could calm your nerves that morning. You fiddle with the new ring on your finger in an attempt to calm them.

The engagement ring Lee gave you.

It was enormous. You could practically see yourself in the diamond. It wasn’t you at all but Lee insisted on it. Nothing less than perfect for his girl.

Who knew it would become such a comfort.

A secretary calls your name and you gather up your resume and credentials to go through this torture one more time.

“Head up, momma. You’re the sheriff’s fiancée now. I need you to act like it.” Lee’s voice echos in your mind from when he dropped you off. You roll your shoulders back and add a little more confidence to your step.

Here goes nothing.

Lee leans against his car as he waits. It’s far too hot to sit in there and bake so he found a spot under a tree to wait for you. He glances up from lighting a cigarette to see the hospital security guard walking up to him like a man on a mission.

“Shit,” Lee sighs. The last thing he wanted to deal with was the public.

“Mr. Sheriff, Sir,” the man grins and holds out his hand.

Lee puts on a smile and tucks his sunglasses into his shirt pocket. “Sir,” Lee greets. “How can I help you?”

“Ronald, Sir. I just wanted to thank you for all that you do for our town. Keeping the social order and all.”

Lee can’t help but cock his brow at the phrase. Keeping the social order?

“This is one of the few places not assaulted with progressive ideas. Separate but equal will always prevail.”

He hadn’t enforced Jim Crow is over a year. Had nobody seemed to notice law enforcement stopped responding to their ‘coloreds using whites only facilities’ calls? They probably had their heads too far up their asses.

Lee gives the man a once over. “Right.” He looks up to notice you leaving the hospital. He sees you stop and glance around for him before he decides to go get you.

“What’s that little negro doing in there?” Ronald asks immediately noticing you. Apparently he wasn’t that great at his job if he never registered that you were there.

Lee smirks at your lithe form in the pencil skirt and blouse you picked out for your interview. He couldn’t wait to get you home to peel them off of you.

“I’ll handle this,” Lee sighs before stamping out his cigarette butt and making his way toward you.

You instantly light up at the sight of him, you almost fall into his arms in relief at a friendly face.

“How’d it go, momma?”

“I felt like they were interrogating me,” you breathe, letting out a soft laugh.

“Trying to scare you off,” Lee sighs. “What’d they say?”

You smile up at him excitedly. “I got it!”

“That’s my girl,” Lee grins. You notice his hands placed firmly on his hips but continues to regard you with beaming pride.

You cock a brow at him. “What are you up to out here?”

Lee bites his bottom lip, trying to hold back a laugh. “I gotta tell you something first. I know I threw a fit and started all that mess about that old junk-stuff in the basement,” he corrects himself with a soft eye roll.

“Oh, Lee,” you coo softly at the start of his apology. “That was so long ago. I’m not upset-”

“Just let me finish,” he interrupts. “I’m glad you made me keep it. I want our kids to see it. To know where they came from.”

You smile up, suddenly so proud of this man that was about to become you husband. You prepare to leap into his arms but he stops you with a gentle hand. He gestures toward the elderly security guard standing cross armed in the shade. “Now, back to what I was up to. That man over there thinks you’re up to no good.”

You burst into watery laughter at his words, attempting to hold back your happy tears long enough to let Lee play his joke. He really does pick the worst times to get sentimental. “What’s he gonna do? I work here now. Should we give him a show? Make his day?”

Lee’s smirk turns into a grin. “Really play it up for me, alright? Don’t hold back.”

You nod and stifle a giggle as Lee grips your forearm and attempts to drag you to his car. “Unhand me, you-you side burned Neanderthal!” You cry while flailing aimlessly. Lee stops to look back at you. “Too much?”

“That kinda hurt, momma.”

“Sorry,” you giggle glancing away, hoping your little character break isn’t caught. “I didn’t do anything! I had an interview! I swear!” You continue loudly, attempting to garnish attention.

“Anything you say can be used against you, ma’am, and I happen to know on good authority that this hospital doesn’t hire colorereds.”

“Are you calling me a liar?”

“If the shoe fits.”

“What are you arresting me for?” You counter, fruitlessly attempting to tug out of his grip.

“Lying to an officer, resisting arrest, trespassing, belligerent behavior-”

“Belligerent?” You bark.

“Just stating the facts,” Lee smirks, proud to deliver a low blow to return yours.

“Oh, you pig!” You hiss, just as Lee gets you to his car.

“Tell me how you really feel,” Lee sighs pressing your back into front passenger door. Those glaciers blue eyes meet yours and you just want to dive into them. They’re perfect.

“Well, sheriff daddy,” you whisper just for him. His hands circle your waist as he crowds you into the tiny space he made for you. It’s perfect. “Truth is, I’m really grateful for you. I wouldn’t have this opportunity without you.”

“Anything to keep you with me, momma.” Then Lee shocks the entire crowd of hospital spectators and presses a soft kiss to your lips. You smile against them and wrap your arms around his shoulders as he pulls you into a tighter embrace. “I love you,” Lee whispers against your lips.

“I love you,” you smile and press back into him. He’s perfect.

——————————————————

Master List

#lee bodecker x female reader #lee bodecker fic #lee bodecker x black! reader #lee bodecker x black female reader #lee bodecker smut

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