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tonycries · 2 months

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Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy - G.S.

Synopsis. He knows that you would be one of his favorite stories from his travels. And you know that you want nothing more than to stay by his side. After meeting an alluring cowboy at Ol’ Rustcliffe Saloon, both of you are sure of one thing - this must be fate.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, wild west! AU, cowboy! Satoru, mayor’s daughter! Reader, Satoru is SO DOWN BAD, angst, kinda slowburn, friends-to-lovers, bartender! Nanami, cunnilingus, oral sex (female + male receiving), unprotected sex, gun violence, pet names (m’lady, my love, + others), tumbleweed bandits, reader and Satoru are both going through stuff, Gege cameo, swearing, author’s daddy issues come out.

Word count. 12.1k (I’m scared)

A/N. You know how hard it was to make this all cowboy-y. Anyway that’s off the bucket list.

Art by @_3aem on X.

“So, you itchin’ for a beating from me or yer’ wife?”

Glowering down at the drunk old pervert as he waddled away in fear, you sigh as you dust down your heavy skirts. Typical. The sun beats down on your face as you look up at that familiar faded banner.

Ol’ Rustcliffe Saloon

The only bar in your little town of Rustcliffe, and by default the only one around for miles. You hated this place - not the saloon, no, the handsome bartender there was always a sweetheart. But at some point, the comfort of your quaint old town had become too comfortable.

But that’s a story for another time. Right now, you were here to drag your father back home - per usual.

Rolling your eyes at the cacophony of drunken voices carrying from inside, you step through the dust-bitten swinging doors.

What hits you first is the stench of cheap alcohol, and then the inebriated camaraderie of the men around you. In the dim lighting of the saloon, you squeeze through the crowded tables and make your way to the bar.

Not a hair out of place, as usual, Nanami lights up when he spots you. “Well, it’s been a while. Here for the mayor again?” he speaks over the boisterous laughs around you.

You flash him a smile, “Yeah, you know my father. Fraternizin’ with the voters and all that.” you wave off your father’s excuse to come down here.

“Certainly takes his job very seriously.” Nanami chuckles, “You’ll find him over by the window, in the back.” he points.

Tipping your head in thanks, you walk the treacherous track to take your animated father home. When you come in view of his table, you find that he wasn’t alone. Damn, it was always harder to convince him to go when with other people.

You know your father has spotted you by his lively laugh and gleeful shouts, “Ah, my daughter! My beautiful daughter! Whatcha doin’ here? Come come! There’s someone I wan’ introduce you to.”

A smile slips out unintentionally at his almost-endearing pride. You mentally prepare yourself to say some awkward hellos to some of your father’s old drinking buddies before dragging him home.

Upon reaching your father, he immediately pulls you into a drunken embrace, wrapping his slightly rocky arm around your shoulders. “This is the daughter I was telling ya about! Prettiest girl in town! Hell, maybe even the country, knowin’ ma girl.” he prattles.

In his jovial state, he abruptly turns to face whoever he was drinking with, unsteady on his two feet. Probably another old geezer, you assume not taking your eyes off your father until you could make sure he won’t collapse on the bar floor for the third time this month.

Finally, you look up.

Your eyes meet blue.

Blue, blue summer skies.

To Satoru, you were the most gorgeous girl he’d ever seen. As soon as he caught a glimpse of you menacingly threatening that creep outside through the window, every word the mayor said went in one ear and he couldn’t even remember if it went out the other. Too entranced.

And when he introduced you as his daughter? Shit, it might just be fate.

“C’mon now boy! Cat got yer’ tongue? What happened to that sharp mouth of yours?”

The booming voice of your father snaps Satoru out of his captivation. Damn, he must’ve been staring for too long.

Mentally praying you weren’t spooked by his speechlessness, he finally speaks, voice slightly shaky at your presence, “Ah- Good day m’lady. Apologies for my impoliteness, the name’s Satoru Gojo.” he tips his crisp white hat. Gently grasping your hand in his, he places a delicate kiss, looking up at you as he awaits your response.

You gaze, slightly awe-struck, at his ethereally beautiful white locks and the impish grin from where he held your hand. His lips were so soft.

“Oh!” you startle at the clap of your father’s hand on your shoulder. Shit, you were definitely staring too long. Rushing to introduce yourself, you quickly interject a “Nice to meet you, Satoru” before your father starts leading the conversation once more.

“Satoru here is a traveler, arrived jus’ today! Told him people like us could never, I mean imagine, right?” he slurs.

Your ears perk up at this piece of information, “Oh? Are you really a traveler, Satoru? How admirable.” you gush, previous bashfulness forgotten. Was that…a blush spreading across his face? Couldn’t be - your town's whiskey was known to give people rosy cheeks on occasion.

“Thank you, m’lady. It’s nothing special really, jus’ staying here a while.” he barely gets the words out before you father bellows a tangent - “Don’ be shy, boy! How wondrous traveling is, kids these days could use some toughening up!”

Both of you rush to catch your father as he sways with a passion seen only during election rallies. It takes the two of you to steady the man. As he continues babbling half-lucidly, you cock your head sweetly at Satoru, “Help me take him outside?”

Satoru thinks his knees might give out then and there.

The air is chilly by the time the three of you step outside, sun making its way below the horizon. Despite your father’s protests that he can ride home on his own, he knocks out as soon as Satoru gracefully mounts him on his horse. Carefully saddling behind him, you try to make sure your father doesn’t fall off of Satoru’s beautiful white Quarter horse.

“You really don’t have to escort us home, Satoru. My ol’ man wouldn’t even feel it if he fell, I swear.” you insist as Satoru holds onto the reins from the ground, feeling bad for bothering him.

“It’s no trouble. After all, Gege seems to like him very much, hm?” Satoru remarks as he turns to his stallion, who attempts to bite him in response, “Can’t say the same for myself.”

“Hmm, how can I be sure yer’ not a serial killer?” you tease, reveling in the sharp laugh it draws from him.

“You’ll jus’ have to take a chance on me, m’lady.” he hums, eyes sparkling with mirth. There’s a lull in the conversation as Satoru pulls on the reins to start walking you down the road, the rhythmic clip-clop! of the horse filling the still air.

“So you travel?”

“This is a nice town.”

Both of you speak at once, anxious to fill the silence, only to sputter self-consciously.

“You can-”

“No no, it’s only customary for a lady to go first.” he hums, looking up at you.

“Tell me stories of your travels.” you breathe out, eager for any crumb of escape from your little town.

As you made your way home to the sprawling family ranch, the night adorned itself with twinkling stars that matched the mischievous glint in Satoru’s eyes as he told you bizarre tales from his life on the road.

“IN MY DEFENSE, it was dark an’ that tumbleweed was shaped suspiciously like a lowly bandit. Hey- don’t laugh- it was a very heated standoff!” Satoru exclaims animatedly as you cackle.

“Yeah yeah, keep telling yourself that, cowboy. Even bandits woulda run away from your clownery.” delighted at the way the moonlight illuminates the blush that tinges his ears.

Making a fool of himself, Satoru’s stories have you laughing until your cheeks hurt, wishing you could experience them too. You almost forget about your father’s deafening snores and the bite of the wind.

But Satoru does not. Brows furrowing as he catches your slight shiver, he mentally berates himself for forgetting his manners. How dare he let a lady suffer the cold while he still had his fuckin’ coat! What a sorry excuse for a cowboy, this is worse than that time he accidentally lassoed a rattlesnake.

Hastily shrugging his coat off, he passes it to you with a sheepish smile on his face.

Face heating up against the cold draft, you breathe in the smell of pine, amber, and something so Satoru. Clearly not as affected as you are, Satoru launches back into his stories.

If Satoru thought his knees were going to give out before then he knows they’re about to now. He aims to keep his eyes steadfast on the road as he recalls his endeavors, because he’s aware that even one glance at you all wrapped up in his coat wouldn’t be too good for him.

Making out the warm lights in the distance, his heart falls as he realizes his time with you is drawing to an end. You seem to share similar sentiments, as you sigh silently.

Once again, a silence falls upon you two (well, three if your slumbering father counted) - but this time, it was serene. You could almost drift to sleep if it wasn’t for your mother’s frantic calls for you from the front porch.

“Oh, darlin’, I was so worried! I didn’t think it would be so late out!” she frets as Satoru helps you get down from his horse. Hands on your waist searing into your skin.

Clearly awoken due to the commotion, your dad stumbles his way down and towards your red brick villa.

“Ah, honey! I’m home…somehow…you know, I met the most interesting fella Something-toru. A wanderer, real interesting.” turning comically to Satoru, he exclaims in delight “Something-toru! How didya get ‘ere?”

Stifling his laughs, Satoru backs away, claiming he had to leave before your father roped him into more rounds of drinks. Which clearly didn’t work because your mother approaches him, “Stay, Satoru, stay! Can’t have you sleepin’ underneath some tree when you escorted our darling daughter all the way out here.”

Any refusals are immediately blocked out by your very inebriated father yelling out in agreement, claiming he wanted to listen to more of Satoru’s “funny lil’ stories”. Your parents head inside - well, more like your mother heads inside with your father in tow - having taken his speechlessness for agreement.

As you follow, you turn to Satoru, a strange part of you gleeful at the fact you won’t have to part with him for now. “We’ve got an extra room, and it’s got yer’ name on it. The stablehand will stall Gege, c’mon, it’ll be a lot better than the ground.” you grin.

“Hey! The ground can be very comfortable.” Satoru declares defensively, yet follows you inside anyway.

It’s only rushed goodbyes and promises to talk tomorrow morning as the housemaids fuss around Satoru. “Goodnight m’lady.” he’d winked as your head housekeeper clutched her pearls at his dirty boots on her recently polished hardwood floors.

That night, as you lay in your childhood bed, you realize that you still have Satoru’s coat on. Whether from his coat or something else entirely that you did not want to explore, you felt so warm inside.

---

Morning dawns with the symphony of the Western meadowlark that nudges you gently awake - usually. Today, it’s abruptly shattered as the door bursts open and someone barges into your room. Judging by the thud of hefty boots, you knew very well who it was.

“Rise n’ shine, m’lady!” Satoru’s voice - way too cheerful for six in the morning - chirps out.

It’s been a few days since Satoru has been staying with you. Now more a friend than a guest, you expect he’s come to wake you up for a morning ride with Gege, watching the sun rise as you exchange silly banter. But it’s so early…

“What do you want, Something-toru.” you grumble out from in-between your comfy covers. You secretly delight at his whines of “How dare you not remember my name, I even told you about the rattlesnake lasso!”

The warmth of your bed and the melody of Satoru’s voice has you sluggishly falling back asleep - that’s before he promptly sits on your bed. The force of it bouncing you both, making you sit up with a laugh.

Satoru was on your bed.

Satoru was on your bed. Shit, after what your father told him this morning, he wouldn’t blame you if you kicked him out with a punch to his pretty nose right this second. Mentally slapping himself a million times over, he hurriedly gets out the reason he was sent in to wake you up in the first place, “Ah- Um, the mayor is meeting with…someone important, wanted you to come down and meet him. Well, if tha’s all then I’ll be going, Gege won’t brush himself, sadly.”

And before you could get another word out, he’s swiftly out the door.

Satoru was on your bed. Your cheeks slightly heat up as you realize you didn’t mind?

His words ring in your ears as you get ready for the day - if it was someone important, then you might as well dress to impress. Impress someone else too. Shaking off these strange thoughts from your mind, you make your way downstairs, nose wrinkling at the smell of tobacco that greets you.

You’ve always hated the stench of the overpriced tobacco your father brings out to impress guests. “There she is! My daughter!” your father smiles, beckoning you over. “There’s someone who’s here to see you.”

Grimacing at the cloud of smoke, you take a seat on the plush sofa beside your father. He gestures at the man seated in front of him, “This here is Naoya.”

Despite his sharply handsome features, you shift uncomfortably at the way he watches you like a predator appraising his prey, eyes following your every movement. Apparently approving of what he saw, his lips curl into a smirk, “Your future husband.” he says saccharinely sweet.

What the fuck?

“Father?” you panickedly turn to him for answers, voice strained at your attempt to keep it even. But your father merely guffaws out a laugh, “Well well, nothing confirmed just yet. But you know with the way things are going with the re-election, might as well get to know a suitor and...” his voice trails off as he takes another puff of his cigar.

“My apologies sir, I refuse.” you drone out, looking straight at Naoya. You don’t miss the way his smirk grows leeringly as he mutters “You don’t have too much of a say in this matter, sweetcheeks.” The audacity.

Apparently your father doesn’t hear, a more grave expression taking over his face, “Now I’ve talked with Naoya, you’re of marriageable age. And as young as I feel, I won’t be around forever. You need someone to take care of you, dear. We’ve talked about this.”

Tears prick at your eyes as you abruptly stand up, disturbing the smoke around you. “I can take care of myself.” you spit out venomously, storming your way to the heavy front door in an attempt to run away from this situation.

In the dim sunlight filtering through the curtains, Naoya watches in amusement as you stomp out of the room. Hilarious, the feisty ones were always the best.

Over the mayor’s ramble of apologies, he grins “No don’t worry about that. She’ll be mine either way.”

The heavy wooden door creaks in protest as you slam it shut, echoing your frustration. The brisk air is a temporary relief from the suffocating atmosphere inside.

“Talked about this” your ass. Every conversation - if you can even call them that - was a heated warning about being married off before you end up a spinster. You couldn’t care less about ending up alone if it didn’t mean living life with a man that talked to you like that.

Your thoughts block out the crunch of the gravel beneath your boots as your feet subconsciously lead you to the stables, where you used to play hide-and-seek as a kid. More recently, though, it has become an escape from conversations like these.

Approaching its familiar wooden doors, you catch a glimpse of Satoru, back turned and meticulously grooming Gege.

Sensing your presence, he turns with an easy smile that quickly fades as he notices the deep furrow of your brows. “Hey there, m’lady. Everything alrigh’?” cerulean eyes flit across your face worriedly.

“Oh yeah, everything’s great. Just got introduced to my absolute asshat of a future husband.” as if Satoru’s concerned expression makes something in you snap, the words tumble out along with your tears.

“I don’t even- The way he looked at me- Can you even believe?”

Satoru was about to rip apart whoever this load of horse manure was that made tears streak down your pretty face. Throwing his brush down - which Gege didn’t quite appreciate - he quickly envelopes you in his arms, letting you muffle your sobs.

“Hey hey. It’ll be alright, we’ll work something out. I promise, m’lady.” he consoles.

Eventually, as your cries die down, you look up to see the rising sun casting a soft glow on Satoru’s features, illuminating the sincerity in his gaze.

The determined glint in his eyes emboldens you, “Yer’ right, I will not be forced into a marriage, especially with someone like Naoya. I’m not anyone’s property.”

A subtle warmth is present in Satoru’s gaze as he utters, “Tha’s my girl.” before reeling back and backtracking immediately, “Ah! I mean- good for you m’lady. Naoya ain’t the one. Anyway, tell me about this ‘asshat’.”

You raise a brow teasingly at his rapid change of demeanor, before plopping down on the hay, launching into your first impression of Naoya and why the rumors downtown of him making babies cry were probably true.

The sun shines high in the sky as you lay there in peaceful silence, only to be broken by the doubt weighing heavy on your mind. “I’m scared.” you admit.

Satoru turns from his place beside you from the hay, “It’s alright, you got Gege and myself beside you. If Naoya ain’t the one then he ain’t the one.”

Your eyes meet his twinkling gaze, “Yeah, he’s not the one.”

The air grows charged with something unspoken as the silence stretches out. Satoru can feel the tips of his ears burning at your words - stop it Satoru, she didn’t mean anything by it. As always, he retreats into humor to break the crackling silence.

“I’d help you hide the body, y’know. Then you can have a shotgun wedding with whoever you want to share your days with.”

“Oh yeah? What if he turns out just like that asshat?” you challenge.

“Well, if it doesn’t work out, you can always run away with me. Fightin’ tumbleweeds together.” Satoru makes light of the situation, in an attempt to etch that beautiful smile on your face once more. It works, as you throw your head back and laugh.

“Yeah, I’d love that.” you get out in-between giggles.

If someone looked at you like Satoru did, you probably wouldn’t mind marrying them. A voice whispers in the back of your mind, sending your brows furrowing once again.

Meanwhile, Satoru finally had a name for your future not-husband - Naoya.

Urgently getting up and removing the hay stuck to your clothes once you hear your housemaids calling for you, you leave Satoru with a grateful smile that had him swooning out loud immediately after the stable door shut - to the very visible judgment of Gege.

It felt like a knife in his chest when the mayor tittered secretly to him about your future husband this morning, thoughts of you getting married plaguing his mind all morning. Well, if you were happy then it’s fine, isn’t it?

He was halfway through imagining you in a beautiful dress of white when you’d arrived with a cloudy expression covering your gorgeous features. If Satoru had thought hearing about your fiancé was like being stabbed, then the despair on your face made him feel like he was completely cleaved in half.

You deserve someone that deserves you. Probably not him. Certainly not Naoya.

Walking back to the house to fetch his riding gloves, he’s lost in the thoughts of standing off against a faceless man calling himself your husband when he bumps into somebody.

“My apolog- Asshat?” Satoru blurts out at the man testily raising a brow at him.

“Excuse you, barn boy?” he fumes, at the nickname that slips by. Ah, he’s done it now. Lips tweaking into a forced smile, Satoru grits out, “Ah, apologies, sir. Cowboy tendencies.”

The air is tense as Naoya mutters, “Keep those to yourself.” He moves to walk past Satoru, before stopping close enough to utter words meant for only him to hear, “And stay away from my future bride. I saw the hay on her skirt, yer’ insane to think you’d have a chance, barn boy. Go back to wanderin’ around.”

Satoru stands rooted to the spot as Naoya walks off, too many emotions he can’t name whirling inside him. That morning, he stalks off for his longest ride since arriving at Rustcliffe - not coming back with Gege until well after midnight.

---

To Satoru, long rides always mean interesting dreams. Right now he was in a tap-dancing competition against a one-eyed alligator who looked suspiciously like your father. It’s a shame - he was winning too - that the competition is suddenly crashed by an angel calling for him.

“Satoru…Satoru!”

An angel that sounded like…you?

“Satoru if you don’t wake up I’m feedin’ your boots to Gege.”

His eyes shoot open, yet his sleep-addled brain still struggles to process you standing over his bed, soft hands shaking his bare shoulders lightly. “Angel?” he rasps out.

You huff out a laugh, “No, I’m here to drag you to hell - or close enough at least.”

Face burning at already making a fool of himself before noon, he sits up in bed, blanket sliding off to reveal his toned upper-half.

Shit, it should be illegal to casually have a body like that.

Trying your best to avert your eyes from the dips and curves of his sculpted body, you continue, “My father’s holdin’ Rustcliffe’s annual Harvest Hoedown in a few weeks, the whole town’s gonna be there. You made it just in time for some dancing lessons.”

“What makes you think I need dancing lessons?” Satoru raises a brow playfully. You take a brief moment to admire the way his sleep-tousled hair curtains his alluring eyes, before replying in an ominous tone, “I need dancing lessons.”

Wow, you really did need dancing lessons, Satoru notes as he stifles a laugh when you step on the poor instructor’s foot for the fifth time this afternoon.

Locked in the stuffy studio, he recalls the way your father demanded that you not step one foot outside until you mastered the upbeat waltz for the hoedown - putting Satoru in charge of making sure you don’t slip away. “It’s stupid really, he’s never had a problem with me sitting out before. All because that asshat will be there…” you’d muttered hotly on the way.

Ah yes, that asshat. Sleep weighs heavily on Satoru’s eyes from riding all night long, yet his words still ring painfully in his ears. Who did he even think he was to have a chance with you?

Well, it’s alright, Satoru will be out of this town in a few months, and you’ll marry some man of your choice that could give you everything you could ever want.

The only thing that snaps Satoru out of his overthinking tirade is the abrupt pause of the music and the heavy sigh the dance instructor lets out - clearly having taken a break for his own sake rather than yours. You shuffle sheepishly across the polished floor to where Satoru stands, “Was it worse than you thought?” you grimace.

“Well, you always do find a way to surprise me, m’lady” he teases, chuckling at your dramatic groan. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot the instructor rushing outside for a smoke. Hopefully not because of your dancing…

You scoff in defense as Satoru’s cackles grow louder - having thought the same thing. “Well, I’m sure the great Something-toru is much better on his feet.”

Instead of retorting, he steps one heavy boot onto the waxy dance floor, holding out a hand expectantly. “C’mon, I’ll show you.”

“But, there’s no music?” you raise a brow, yet you place your hand in his much larger ones. Soft, his hands were surprisingly soft. And so warm.

“Did I mention I was a great singer too?” he grins, a small dimple at the corner of his mouth as he pulls you closer.

Shit, it was way too hot to be cooped up in a dance studio. Or maybe it was just Satoru’s hand around your waist, making your skin burn through your heavy skirts. They flow around you as he glides you gently across the floor.

You train your eyes steadily on your feet - partly out of necessity, and partly out of fear of meeting Satoru’s intense gaze.

The only sounds filling the small studio were the squeaks of your boots and Satoru’s soft humming of a nonexistent tune. It was beautiful, his voice. It reminded you of calm summer days.

“Ah- sorry!” you panic as you step on his toe, only for him to pause his melody and huff out a laugh.

“Step on them as much as you want, m’boots are thick.”

You’re sure he meant this only to bate your embarrassment, but something about his words and the warm endearment in his gaze have your cheeks heating up. You focus on your steps in silence as he guides you patiently, tenderly.

Pride grows in your chest as you start stepping on his boots every six steps instead of two. Satoru seems to have noticed too, “Hey! You’ve improved, m’lady.” he whispers, as if afraid to break the stillness in that humid room as you two continue your silent dance.

Loud clapping from the doorway makes you two jump apart, shattering the serene bubble you’ve found refuge in. “Brilliant! I thought I’d come across my first hopeless case, yet you’ve worked absolute wonders Mr. Satoru!”

Your escape is quick, you urgently drag Satoru out the door before he can be forcibly recruited as a dance teacher.

You heave out a sigh of relief at your freedom from the treacherous clutches of the dance studio. Merciless sunlight stinging your face, you begin to make your way through the dusty hustle and bustle of Rustcliffe in the afternoon.

Now, all you had to do was avoid bumping into your father for the rest of the day and you should be fine!

Speed-walking by Ol’ Rustcliffe Saloon, you’re confused when you’re faced with a few more drunken stares than usual. Surely your new skirt can’t be that flattering?

With a jolt, you realize you’re still grasping Satoru’s warm hand in his. Dropping it as if it burned, your cheeks heat up at the mirth on his features. “Not that I’m complainin,” he grins, “but warn a guy next time you manhandle him. S’not good for the heart, m’lady.”

Rolling your eyes at his joke, you begin pointing out the things to see as you walk the familiar old roads of Rustcliffe, detailing the town gossip.

It really was not good for his heart, Satoru was sure he’ll drop dead very soon one of these days because of you.

He couldn’t rip his eyes off of you as you animatedly talked about granny Wei wrestling Mrs. Davidson for her secret brownie recipe.

Shit, he was really getting in too deep.

Night falls fast, a deep shade of blue.

Saying your goodbyes to Nanami at Ol’ Rustcliffe Saloon - at a time you knew your father wouldn’t be around - your heart swells as Satoru excitedly rambles about “Good ol’ Nanamin! What a chip off the old block, we became fast friends y’know?”

You didn’t expect your mission to avoid your father to turn into an impromptu Rustcliffe tour. But watching Satoru’s face light up as you told him silly little stories of your childhood, you wouldn’t have changed it one bit.

Sent off with a cheery “Come back soon deary!”, you’re exhausted by the time you say all your goodbyes to the people of the town.

“You’re loved, y’know?” Satoru speaks up out of nowhere as you steady yourself behind him on the saddle.

“Hm?” you ask, fatigued from spending the day walking around town. A large hand caresses your cheek to rest your head against his back, tightening your arms around his waist.

Lightly snapping the reins, he repeats, “You’re loved.”

You drift on his words gently to sleep, the clip-clop! of the horse matching the deafening beat of your heart against your ribcage. If only you could be like this forever.

SLAM!

You wake up with a start, only to find yourself…hovering? Surely there must be a valid explanation - you really didn’t feel like doing an exorcism right now.

It takes a while of your nonsense to realize you’re being carried by strong arms supporting your back and legs.

“S-Satoru?” you ask blearily.

“Shhh, forgive me, m’lady. Didn’t think that damn door would be so loud.” he responds, bed creaking under his weight as he softly sets you down.

Smiling down at your incoherent mumbles, he whispers softly “It’s alrigh’, you can rest now. Goodnight m’lady.”

Struggling to rip his gaze from your gracefully sleep-addled one, it’s only the thought of someone in the house catching him in this position that makes him stand up.

A hand - uncharacteristically swift - grasps his wrist, stopping his tip-toeing to the door. “Satoru…” your groggy call of his name sends shivers down his spine. Hesitatingly following the gentle pull of your hand, he kneels beside your bed.

“Yes, m’lady?” he breathes.

You surge forward, sleep hazing the practical side of your mind. Acting on pure instinct, your soft lips meet his.

Satoru freezes in surprise as a beat passes. One. Two.

He stays in the same position when you flop back onto your pillow, soft snores filling the otherwise pin-drop silence. His lips burn as he brings up a hand to touch them in disbelief, stifling an euphoric laugh.

You startle awake in the middle of the night, after some questionable dream about Satoru carrying you to the bed and you kissing him.

Imagine. Ha!

Settling back into where you were carefully tucked into bed, you snuggle the warm coat at your side.

Wait. Shit.

---

If either of you remembered what happened that night, neither of you mentioned it.

Oftentimes, you questioned whether it was a dream. The only thing keeping you from fully believing so being the intensity in Satoru’s stare whenever his eyes briefly flickered to your lips and the hasty retreats whenever it seemed like you would bring up the topic.

But why wasn’t he saying anything? And why did he not want you to?

In fear of messing up the comfortable camaraderie you two had, you continued this magnetic dance of normalcy. But honestly could you really consider it “normal” if each gaze was charged with something neither of you could describe?

But why wasn’t he saying anything? And why did he not want you to?

You could only imagine the worst.

Satoru thinks he’s died and gone to heaven. Well, probably a bit below heaven, because - ideally - there you’d be his wife and Gege would actually like him.

It’s alright, even if just for a sleep-hazed second, he was yours. And he didn’t want to hear you apologize for it.

Still riding the euphoria of that brief kiss, he goes about life as usual, sure that you would be one of his favorite stories from his travels.

---

“WELCOME ALL TO RUSTCLIFFE ANNUAL HARVEST HOEDOWN! WE GOT HARVEST, WE GOT HORSES, WE GOT SOME HOE- Oh- what? yes, dear that was on my script…” your father’s voice bellows across town from the loudspeaker.

You breathe in the warm, candy-scented air, fairy lights illuminating the colorful stalls selling everything from candied apples to binoculars (“Spy On Your Neighbors Without Worry!”).

Place ringing with the bustle and chatter of the town, you think it feels like something out of a picture book.

A warm smile finds its way onto your face, you’ve loved the Harvest Hoedown since you were a kid. Here, you can forget the longing for something more, the rows at home about your looming engagement, and most of all - you can almost forget Satoru.

Ever since that kiss, you’ve found it hard to face him. Sure, the banter and half-joking schemes to murder Naoya are the same. But your heart clenches every time he looks at you with a tender melancholy, losing the words to apologize for taking advantage of his kindness.

“Come come! It’s startin’!” you hear gleefully from your left. Before you can register what’s happening, you’re pulled into a circle of bodies dancing to an upbeat tune.

Laughter bubbling out of you as you lose yourself in the song, you turn to your right and see…your dance instructor, who is very visibly (and audibly) praying for his feet. Dramatic. You’ve learned a lot recently with Satoru’s help.

Oh, there he is again. For someone that leaves place so swiftly, he sure is set on living permanently in your mind.

Hidden amongst the audience, Satoru cackles at the distress on Mr. Dance Instructor’s face. Little did he know, with a bit of Satoru’s magic you’ve improved - stepping on his toes only once every fifteen steps!

He was so proud of his girl.

Ah, except you’re not. You’re so much more. And he’s reminded of that every time you averted your eyes from his during dance lessons, the proximity of your bodies doing nothing for how out of reach you felt to him.

He rips his gaze from you, walking away from the growing crowd. Where was that damn drinks table again?

It’s past twelve as the townsfolk start pairing up for the hoedown couples dancing. You’ve usually sat this one out, not one for the complicated steps nor the intimacy.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spy your parents waltzing in their own world. How nice it must be. Your supposed asshat of a dance partner was over by the drinks talking with some men, barely looking your way.

Guess the dance lessons were for nothing. Frustrated and slightly tipsy, you move to make your way off the dance floor.

Suddenly, a large hand blocks your view of the exit. Who the-

Satoru.

Ears tinged a pretty red, and eyes slightly dazed, he hiccups over the rich music “Would you- dance with me, m’lady?”

Maybe it was the beer, maybe it was the way his face flushed your favorite delicate pink - but you slide your hand into his warm one, “I’d be honored to, Satoru.”

A strong arm pulling you flush against his body, faces only inches apart. His hot breath fans you as Satoru murmurs, “Looked s’beautiful tonight. Best dancer in town I’d say.”

“Only cuz’ of you, Satoru.” you chuckle at his genuine tone as he steers you across the dance floor. Feet in perfect sync, the waltz fades into the background as you look into his tired eyes.

“Nah, tha’s all you, m’lady. I’m nothing much.” he grins morosely.

Your brows furrow at his words, clearly something was wrong. And this wasn’t the place to talk about it. “Come with me.” you utter, pulling him along with you to a place you knew he’d love.

Little ol’ Rustcliffe wasn’t called that for nothing.

The air is tense, the chatter of crickets fill the silence between you two as you guide him to your haven, hand still tightly in his. It’s a steep walk uphill from the outskirts of town, a place you’d stumbled upon during one dashing attempt to escape from this town as a tween.

“Finally here.” you exhale as you reach your destination, fireflies lighting the way.

“Hah- If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were tryin’ to murder-” Satoru’s voice dies in his throat as he drinks in the view before him.

The twinkling lights of the entire town of Rustcliffe reflect in his eyes like constellations. Townsfolk barely discernible from this distance, yet the soft jovial music carried over. It was beautiful.

Satoru looks at you in awe as you lay down on the ground and point upwards, “Tha’s not all, cowboy.”

Quickly getting on the ground beside you - albeit at a safe distance - his mouth gapes wider at the perfect carpet of stars above him. A celestial version of what he saw below. He turns his head to see you bathed in the moonlight. This place was beautiful.

“Satoru, are we okay?‘ you voice out in concern. He’s taken aback by the sudden turn in conversation. You cut off his scramble to make a joke, “I’m serious. Please talk to me.”

He can never win against you.

Heaving out a sigh, “Maybe. Who knows. But whatever it is, please don’t apologize for that kiss, let me have it.”

Now it’s your turn to be surprised, “Let you have it? Satoru, why wouldn’t you have it?”

“M’lady, I don’t know if you’re aware, but you’re like fireworks. Captivating and fierce. That kiss was a mistake, and soon enough you’ll find a rich, handsome-”

“I only want you.”

“I’m leaving soon.” he retorts.

“I only want you.” you repeat, stubbornly.

“I’m leaving m’lady.” he argues.

“No- Satoru-”

“And I’m childish. I’m insecure. I’ll never be able to provide for you the way you deserve.” he plows on, emotion cracking his voice.

“Satoru, I love you.” you breathe out.

Satoru’s breath catches in his throat, the silence was deafening. “What was that?” he turns, voice quiet with disbelief.

“Well, I don’t know if you’re aware, cowboy, but you’re like blue summer skies. And I just so happen to love blue summer skies.” you huff out, finally understanding the reason for his behavior these past few weeks.

“I don’t expect a huge mansion, or some enormous ranch, or even a cowboy that knows the difference between a lasso and a rattlesnake. I just don’t want anyone else, Satoru.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes.”

“And…you’re sure? Really sure?”

“Yes.”

Silence punctures your conversation once more, broken only by a loud cackle. You turn in disbelief at his change in demeanor, “All cheered up now, Satoru?”

“Why would you have feelings for me? Was it the tumbleweed story that did it for you?” he gets out through laughs. It was contagious, and soon enough you yourself joined him, clutching your stomach.

In the thoughtful silence that follows, you find yourself inching closer to him until your faces are mere centimeters apart. “Blue summer skies and fireworks don’t go too well together.” he breathes.

“We’ll make something work out, remember?” you hum.

Your first kiss with Satoru was a sleep-addled mistake.

The second was when his lips capture yours as if they were the source of life itself.

Rolling on top of you, he’s careful to not rest his full weight as his lips don’t leave you, tongue caressing yours. Satoru tastes sweet - like hard candy and your father’s bottle of Baileys. Pulling away a hair's breadth, he whispers against your lips, “Let me be yours?”

“You probably say this to all the girls, hm?” you tease him, as revenge for making you wait so long. He softly bites your lips in retaliation, relishing in your drawn-out whine. “Yes, fine. If only you’ll let me be yours.”

Clearly approving of your answer, he continues his dance with your lips. Barely parting to breathe, as if it hurt to leave you.

And it did. A low groan sounds from the back of his throat as Satoru kisses you with the desperation from these past few weeks. His hands stayed firmly cupping your face, as if scared to move elsewhere. Yours, however, was wandering the expanse of his back, and it was driving him insane.

“M’lady…” he breathes out at the feeling of your legs wrapping around his hips, a warning.

You knew where this was going and you don’t know if you’ve wanted anything so bad. “Satoru, I need you.” you mutter, words punctuated by pecks to his swollen lips.

Maybe that’s the trigger that sets him off. It’s not long before Satoru is kissing you again. Pinning down your arms with one hand, he rolls his hips into yours. You gasp as you feel the outline of his hard cock straining against his trousers.

He was so big.

Your pussy drips with anticipation and fear of what was about to come.

Satoru thinks he might be getting whiplash, how was it that an hour ago he was moping in his loneliness and now he’s got you underneath him? Silently thanking whoever was up there, he wanders a hand down your body. Fingers trailing teasingly above where you wanted him the most.

“Tell me what you want, m’lady.” he rasps. Now Satoru is sure he’s getting whiplash when you grind your hips up into his hand, whining “Need you- on me.”

Skirts hastily pushed up, Satoru shuffles so his face is right hovering right above your pulsing core. In the cool moonlight, he can see the way you get wetter at each hot breath on your cunt. “Please Satoru.”

You were not good for his heart. Surging forward so he’s nose-deep in your pussy, Satoru’s tongue flattens against your swollen folds. His eyes roll to the back of his at your taste. You tasted better than the candy at the hoedown.

Your desperate whines for more send blood rushing to his cock, twitching achingly against his trousers. Leisurely dipping between your folds, he watches with blown-out eyes as you grind your hips deeper into his face, keeping a firm grip on his soft locks. Using him.

Shit, if this was your reaction to him teasing you…

Your whimpers of pleasure and lewd squelches of your cunt fill the night air as he plunges his tongue inside your clenching hole, fucking you at a merciless rhythm. His brows furrow as his tongue dips in and out relentlessly. He sinfully loves the burn of his scalp as you pull his hair to angle him just right.

Thumb harshly circling your clit, Satoru thinks he loses a bit of his sanity at every moan of his name that leaves your pretty mouth. “You taste s’good. So perfect for me, m’lady.” his voice sends vibrations to your pussy that have you feeling your heartbeat banging in two places.

“Hngh- Satoru, don’ stop!” you mewl as his nose catches on your clit, clamping down on his tongue. He continues his movements, breathing you in so sinfully. Air was overrated - Satoru Gojo, famously daring traveler and devilishly handsome, dies here between your legs. He wouldn’t even mind.

“Cum in my mouth, m’lady. Please.” he begs, voice muffled by your dripping cunt. He locks eyes with your fucked out ones as he pulls you by the thighs impossibly closer to him. He never wanted to part.

The stimulation of his voice in addition to his fingers and tongue becomes too much. “Satoru! Hah- M’ gonna cum-”

Tears spring to your eyes as you cum all around Satoru’s tongue. He doesn’t let up his harsh abuse of your pulsing pussy, groaning as he laps up your juices - your slick pooling at the corner of his mouth.

He was so greedy for you. Shit, this is so much better than he’s imagined every night he’s fucked his fist in that lonely room.

As both of you attempt to catch your breaths, the chattering song of crickets and distant music from the Harvest Hoedown fill the air once more. Satoru looks at you with a devious glint in his eyes that has your cunt twitching once more.

You’d felt his rock-hard length. And you wanted it now.

“Satoru. let me feel you in my mouth, please.” you murmur. Kneeling before him, you look up at him with eager eyes. At his slow nod, you give an experimental squeeze to the large imprint of his cock, thighs rubbing together at Satoru’s drawn-out hiss.

“Oh, m’lady. You drive me insane.” he groans.

Cursing the heavy trousers that cowboys wear, you fumble it down his legs. Muscles, creamy thighs come into your view, making your mouth water.

In the dim lighting, you see the precum drip down Satoru’s flushed cock. The prominent vein down his side glistens prominently. Shit, he’d never fit in your mouth let alone your cunt. But you wanted it so bad.

Satoru’s heavy breaths sound in the still air as your bruised lips inch closer to his throbbing cock. A deep breath, and you spit on his blushing head, saliva dripping down the side of his length and to where you gently grasped his base.

It was filthy, it was debauched. You absolutely loved it.

Satoru lets out a strangled moan as you flatten your tongue and take his tip into your mouth, sucking gently. He bucks his hips into your mouth as you run your tongue along his sensitive slit “Shit- Sorry, m’lady. You’re just hah- too good.”

Popping off his aching cock, you press kisses to the side of his length. He groans lowly at the vibrations as you speak about something that has been on your mind for a while now, “Satoru, don’t you think we’re past formalities now?”

“Well, I could call you my goddess?” he smiles. “Or my angel? Or-” Satoru chokes on his words as you take him fully into your mouth - partly because you needed him to shut up, and partly because you cunt ached with need.

“Sh-shit. Jus’ like that.” he rasps as you suck him at a dizzying pace. Precum drips down the side of your mouth as you take him in deeper - nose meeting the snowy white hair on his pelvis.

Your mouth burns at the stretch, his hips grinding lightly into your mouth to meet each bob of your head. Your pussy drips once more at how desperate Satoru was.

His mouth drops open in a silent gasp as you move to take his tight balls into your mouth. You admire the dazed look in his darkened eyes. “Oh god- I’m gonna cum. Please, let me cum in your mouth, m’lady.” he murmurs, eyes rolling to the back of his head as you continue your ruthless pace.

As soon as your lips are around his cock once more, Satoru comes fast and hard with a gravelly moan. Hot spurts of his seed dribble down the corner of your mouth as you take it all in.

Ah, this wasn’t what you had planned when you brought him here - but you sure weren’t complaining.

Satoru just about passes out when you stick out your tongue to show you’ve swallowed every drop of cum he gave, cock twitching once more. He needed you in a way that would make a hooker blush.

Finding his voice, “As much as I’d love to ravish you right here, m’lady, I think you deserve somethin’ a bit more comfortable.” He swats at a mosquito attacking him as you grin devilishly.

---

Gege has never flown across the dry ground of Rustcliffe faster.

Wind in your hair and Satoru’s arms warmly around your middle, you feel the thundering of his heartbeat against your back - matching your own. You admire his moonlit profile, the light casting an otherworldly glow over his cloud-like hair. You could probably go anywhere if it was by his side.

You’ve never been happier to see that familiar ol’ ranch.

Navigating your sprawling villa, you find, is close to impossible with a relentless Satoru pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to your neck.

“Satoru…we gotta make it to the bed.” you giggle, drunk off of him rather than the liquor from before. He sighs impatiently, before promptly lifting you off of your feet. His hat and hip holster falling to god-know-where as he runs up the stairs to your bedroom with you in his arms.

The thud of heavy boot echoes throughout the empty house - your parents still at the Harvest Hoedown. It reminds you of the night you first kissed him. As he slams your door shut and pushes you against it, however, you never in your wildest dreams would have thought that it’ll lead to this.

Tongue tangling with Satoru’s, feet still not reaching the ground. You don’t think you’ll make it out of this alive. Nor will Satoru.

Satoru is definitely not making it out alive.

He’s barely stepped a foot into your bedroom before he’s got his hands all over you - groping and teasing every inch of your body he can find. Your legs wrapped around him, he holds you in the air, hands roughly squeezing your ass.

His lips don’t leave yours, tasting himself on your tongue - even as he bunches your skirts around your hips. Exhaling in relief as his hands meet your bare lips, he holds a finger to your pulsing core.

You whimper at the feeling, still sensitive from before. He drinks in your mewls of pain and pleasure, lips curling into a smug smile. “Still sensitive, m’lady? You poor thing. How will you take my cock if yer’ like this?”

Your groan of impatience turns into a panicked whine as Satoru moves towards the bed, “Maybe we should tuck you in bed for now? Continue this tomorrow?”

Reading the challenge in his eyes, you immediately free yourself from his hold. His confused gaze soon turns into a surprised one as you push him roughly onto the bed, straddling him after.

“You always do surprise me.” he laughs out between the magnetic kisses you leave on his lips. Buttons fling across the room as you rip his shirt in impatience - fingers too dripping in lust to work through them. You’re sure if the same could be done to your heavy prairie skirt, then it would’ve suffered a similar fate.

You run your hands along his sculpted body greedily, as you’d wanted to since the first time you saw him shirtless. He hisses at the friction and the impatience at wanting to do the same to you, fingers fumbling with your complicated clasps.

After much frustration and curses on whoever invented corsets, you’re finally exposed in front of Satoru.

Shit, he really should call you his goddess. Because in the dim lighting of your bedroom, he thinks he’s in heaven as you sit atop him, bare and needy for him. Fuck Naoya. Fuck any faceless suitable husband. Eyes half-lidded and lips kiss-bitten, you’re like this because of him.

Grinding his now-bare hips against yours, a low groan rips from his throat at the feeling of your swollen folds spreading against his aching cock. Your dripping slick mixes with his as he continues rutting into you.

“Ah! Enough teasin’, Satoru- Want you inside me.” you whimper sinfully.

Your words make Satoru snap. Wordlessly, he sheaths himself inside you with a sigh of relief. Moans leave his throat unrestrained as he bullies his cock deeper and deeper inside your hot cunt. “Fuck. S’tight, your pretty pussy is suckin’ me in so good m’lady.” he hisses out, brows furrowed in pleasure.

Satoru could feel himself losing more and more of his sanity every time your plushy walls clenched down on him as he pulled out to fuck up into with harsh thrusts. It was so animalistic, the way your perfect cunt couldn’t bear to part with him.

Your slick drips down his length and onto his heavy balls each time he rams into you at a merciless cadence. Soft yelps of his name leave your lips every time his tip kisses your cervix.

Ah, this time he was actually going to pass out. Your pretty whines, your dripping cunt, the way your tits jiggled so enticingly at each thrust - it was all too much.

Angling you slightly with his bruising grip on your hips, Satoru smiles with satisfaction at that one spot that makes you convulse on his cock. Abs burning at the pace, he hits it over and over. Your nails dig into the muscle of his shoulder, moans of his name leaving you against your will.

You were sure to be absolutely covered in marks tomorrow.

But that was a problem for later you. Right now, all you could focus on was grinding your hips down to meet Satoru’s thrusts, eager for him to hit that spot even harder. Your eyes roll to the back of your head at the painfully good stretch of your snug cunt. So full.

“K-keep going, Satoru. Don’ stop, please.” Your rickety bed creaks in protest at each relentless thrust, overpowered only by the stinging smacks of his balls against your ass.

It was so filthy. So debauched. And you absolutely loved it.

As Satoru’s hands sneak down to draw rough circles on your clit, you feel yourself getting closer and closer towards cumming. Leaning down to capture his lips with yours once more, you whisper against his mouth, “Satoru, I’m- Hngh-”

He connects his sweaty forehead with yours, “Mm. me too. Fuck, gonna fill this pretty pussy up. You want that, m’lady?”

Just the thought of being so full of Satoru sends you over the edge. You cum with a lewd moan of his name, cunt clenching so impossibly tight around his cock.

“Ah! Shit.” Satoru grits out at the way your walls were fluttering around him so perfectly. Your whimpers as you gush around him sounds like music to his ears.

Satoru thinks he sees heaven as he cums. A part of his soul parting with him that night. Thick ropes of his seed paint your walls white, strained whispers of your name leaving his mouth as if a prayer. As if you were his goddess.

A feral part of him keeps bucking his hips into you, letting you ride out your highs together. Fucking his cum deeper and deeper - claiming you as his.

You do the same in your own way - biting down on Satoru’s exposed neck. Hard. His strong arms wrap around you to keep you from moving away, letting you use him as you please.

Cum drips down your legs, staining your blanket.

As your highs finally bate, you blink out the haze from your eyes. Looking up at Satoru from where you were snuggled into the crook of his neck, admiring the innocent blush adorning his face and his glossy, bruised lips. Both of you so overstimulated and euphoric.

“Got any travel stories like this?” you chuckle out, half-delirious and exhausted from what just transpired in this room.

“Not at all.” Satoru breathes out, pulling you closer to him, closing his hazy eyes to the sex-filled air.

That night, squeezed into your warm single bed, Satoru tells you stories of before his travels. You’re unsure if your parents are home yet, and right now with Satoru in your arms - you don’t care.

You listen as he rambles about growing up in the quaint town of Summer Pass. How he was raised with beautiful parents, a wonderful life. Yet, since the passing of his best friend, he’d taken up what the two had been dreaming of since they were children - wandering the world.

“I’m afraid, if I stay too long then it always ends up hurtin’.” he whispers into the still night. Caressing his hair, you pull him into your warm embrace. Your heart weighs heavy as the back of your mind pangs with the realization that Satoru will still leave despite this.

Both of you fall asleep reminiscing talks of your childhoods. In your exhausted state, maybe you misheard - but you could’ve sworn by the “I love you, m’lady.” Satoru whispered against your lips right before you closed your eyes.

Limbs intertwined till you’re unsure where one ends and the other starts, you have the most peaceful sleep in a long time.

You’re unsure when Satoru snuck out of your room. The only evidence of last night being the washcloth on your bedside table that he’d tenderly cleaned you up with, and a singular button from his shirt at the foot of your bed.

Cheeks heating once you catch sight of it, you make your way down to breakfast in your most well-covered dress.

What you certainly didn’t expect was to be interrogated by your mother. “So…” she begins. ”When did you come home, darling? We didn’t see you at the hoedown after midnight.”

Ah, suddenly these scrambled eggs just did not want to go down your throat. “Jus’...went to see somethin’ interesting.” you respond, eyes meeting with Satoru’s amused ones across the table as he subtly plays footsies with you underneath.

---

Sneaking around with a secret cowboy boyfriend doesn’t just happen in books, you realize. It’s a lot easier since Naoya is around a lot more often than usual. The only thing he might be good for may be keeping your parents entertained…

Since then, Satoru, you conclude, really does not like L-words: namely, Love and Leaving.

Despite his breathless confession that night, Satoru hasn’t said anything more about his feelings towards you - nor when he’ll be leaving.

It’s okay, you have time. You console yourself, as you lay in bed with him after he’d snuck into your room as per usual, pulling his warm presence closer to yours. But Satoru’s inevitable departure looms closer and closer like a dark cloud above your head.

It’s only two months after that night, when you’ve retreated from another engagement conversation you shut down, that Satoru brings it up. Hands intertwined and watching the sunset on top of your father’s barn, he utters in an uncharacteristically grave tone “I planned to leave next week, m’lady.”

Your heart pricks at his words. You knew this was coming.

Clenching your fists in self-assurance, your words tumble out.

“Let me come with you.”

“Let me stay with you.”

The nostalgic lullaby of the world around you is deafening as you and Satoru reel back in synchronized surprise.

“You- stay?”

“Wait- huh?”

Brow raised, you gesture at him to continue. “I just- I thought maybe I could stay here. Build a life with you, if you’d like, m’lady.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. Satoru - who smiles brightest when talking of his tales of travel - was offering to settle down?

“W-what? Satoru, why would you? You love traveling.” you sputter out in disbelief. His smile grows, as does the warmth in his eyes. “I’ve found something I love a lot more.” he murmurs, with a playful bite to the crook of your neck.

You crack a smile at his sincerity, though you shake your head in disagreement. “You should be out there explorin’ the world, Satoru. And…I want to be right by your side.”

“I thought you loved this place?”

“I do.” you sigh. “But I feel so trapped.”

Resting your head on Satoru’s shoulders, you admit how dear Rustcliffe is to you - although oftentimes you try to deny it - and how you want to leave just as much.

The stars wink at you two mischievously by the time you’re done, a twinkle that matches the look in Satoru’s eyes as he announces, “So~ We run away together in a blaze of glory. End scene, credits roll, Gege win’s best actor.”

“Exactly. Although I prefer the term unannounced relocation.” you hum, relishing in his bark of laughter. “Now, c’mon, cowboy. We gotta get up early for that damn election rally tomorrow.”

Heading back home as inconspicuous as possible is always tedious. In addition to praying away your swollen lips, you head in innocently at different times.

Hurriedly greeting your housekeeper, you attempt to make a swift escape to your room. Only to be blocked by…Naoya?

“We meet again, sweetcheeks.” he smiles, stepping closer towards you. Determined to stand your ground, you stare menacingly up at him. “Hello, my apologies for being so unavailable to meet these days. Business, y’know.” your voice steady.

“Ah, yes. I know.” he hums dangerously. Looming closer to your face, you smell the tobacco on his breath as he mutters, “It’s no matter, your father and I have gone through with our conversations. You and I will announce our engagement tomorrow at your father’s rally. That is final.”

“I’ve talked with you about this, I’ve screamed at you about this. I will not marry you no matter what my father nor anyone else says.” you grit out through clenched teeth.

“Why? Got anyone in mind? Think it’ll be anyone else your father approves of?” he raises a brow, delicately raising the neckline of where your dress had dripped down - where Satoru had nipped before.

He knows.

“Not at all.” you smile sweetly. Not waiting for a response, you run upstairs. Seems like running away in a blaze of glory might have to hurry up.

Twisting and turning the entire night, you don’t get a wink of sleep, mind a whirlwind of how you’d get Satoru and run away before the announcement.

It was terrifying.

---

Parading around town in an itchy engagement dress under the boiling sun on your father’s collection of purebred Italian horses (+ Gege) wasn’t exactly how you wanted to spend an ideal morning. But it wasn’t the worst.

You snuck glances at Satoru riding in front of you, looking devastatingly handsome as ever.

Naoya had been terrifyingly quiet all morning. You could feel his penetrating stare on you, scrutinizing every movement and every conversation. He rides beside you - your soon-to-be husband.

As the procession ends at your father’s podium, where he proudly takes a stand. As he plows on with an inspirational speech that has the audience in cheers, your mind runs a mile a minute as you slip away from the stage. Even in your gauzy white dress, it’s easy to get lost in the animated crowds of Rustcliffe - which you and Satoru use to your advantage.

This was happening. You were going to finally leave.

Heart clenching at the sight of your jovial parents onstage, you take a long look before turning away. It’s okay, it’s alright. This is something you’ve been wanting for years.

Brain whirring at the letters you’d send them on your travels, you miss the harsh gaze following you.

“Satoru!” you gasp at the blur of white and black that embraces you as soon as you step foot into Ol’ Rustcliffe Saloon. The bar, empty for the first time in years since your father’s last rally, was your hastily chosen place of refuge.

Nanami, who wasn’t initially too keen on being involved, had sympathized once he saw the look on your face. “Alright, but if anyone asks - you two were never here. Not too good for business, y’know.” he’d stated, permitting you two to do whatever you please.

Although, it probably was worth noting that he’d almost taken it back once Satoru tackled him into a hug with a joyful squeal of “Nanamiiiin~!”

“C’mon now. I’ve got our bags saddled on Gege. We’ll leave immediately.” Satoru voices, snapping you out of your reminiscing. Rushing to give Nanami a farewell hug, your heart lurches as he whispers “Goodbye. Promise you’ll write.”

This was really happening.

Nodding in promise, you finally turn to the open door and step into the dusty sunlight. Satoru leads you to where Gege is impatiently waiting for your quick getaway. You could almost laugh at the sheer exhilaration coursing through your veins.

You were going to get out.

You grip onto Satoru’s shoulder for support as he circles his arms around you to lift you onto the seat, slightly shaking at the intoxicating adrenaline.

You were finally going to be free.

“Leavin’ so soon, sweetcheeks?” a chilling voice slices through the air. One that you know way too well. Your heart stops, as does Satoru’s hands in midair - before he sets you down slowly.

Body moving against your will, you turn to the deceivingly sweet voice behind you. Naoya.

A cold sweat breaks out across Satoru’s forehead.

He stares down Naoya’s hand hovering over the holster at his hip. “I knew there was something off about you, barn boy. You think I’d be outmatched by someone like you?” he hisses, resentment poisoning every word.

Satoru does what he does arguably the best, “Oh c’mon asshat, don’t be so melodramatic. We’re just going on a little adventure.” he smirks.

“Don’t I know of these adventures.” Naoya spits out.

Agonizingly slow, Naoya draws his gun. You could cut the tension in the air with a knife as the three of you stand frozen, searing sun casting eerie shadows across the desolate road.

BANG!

Naoya’s first shot tears through the deafening silence. Narrowly missing the bullet, Gege whinnies in fear before running off to safety. Satoru skillfully maneuvers you two into the shadowy alleyway beside Ol’ Rustcliffe Saloon.

In the blink of an eye, he presses you close to the dust-bitten wall as he pulls out his gun. “Stay here.” he gasps out.

With lightning speed, Satoru retaliates - firing back-to-back shots at Naoya with a speed and precision that has him scrambling for cover behind a barrel.

The gunfire echoes throughout the quiet town, these familiar streets becoming a battleground. Despite both parties shooting from their impromptu covers, neither are invincible.

A stray bullet harshly grazes his arm, blood painting the ground a deep crimson. Fuck, this really burned like a motherfucker. But he was still alive - he still had to protect you.

The standoff intensifies, stray bullets flying off in every direction. They splinter holes through the rustic shop banners. You could only be thankful that the town was at the rally, confident you’d never forgive yourself if anyone died on this road today.

Satoru fires off shots with uncanny accuracy, years of defending himself on the road coming in handy. Yet, he was losing blood. So much blood. He realizes with a jolt that his vision was slowly blurring.

Breaths labored and slumping forward against the wall, he aims one last shot at Naoya. Fuck. Shit. Dear lord, if you’re up there, please don’t let my love die here.

A finger pulls the trigger. The bullet flies through the air as if in slow-motion.

It hits metal.

Naoya’s gun flies through the air, clattering onto the sun-scorched ground as he is finally disarmed. The beginnings of a grin curl Satoru’s lips before he heaves out a heavy sigh. Eyes closing and body collapsing forward, the last thing ringing in his ears being your harrowed scream.

“No no no no. Satoru please.” sobs wreck your throat as your hands frantically check for Satoru’s pulse. In your panicked state of mind, you barely register the crunch of gravel nearing towards you two.

“Shit. The fuck is it that you even want?” that dreaded voice sounds ominously in your ears. “To travel? I can fuckin’ take you places.”

Sagging on the saloon wall for support, Naoya clutches his bleeding side as he observes the two of you. In an instant, you’re in front of Satoru’s body protectively, hand steady on his discarded gun pointed right at Naoya’s head.

“Leave, before I shoot your brains out..” you threaten, voice deceptively steady.

“I thought I could be the one to break you - the mayor’s wildchild daughter. But why the fuck do you put yourself through this?” he continues, voice strained with anger.

“Because he is the one I want. I refuse your proposal, and I am not sorry for it. Now leave.”

You were standing up now, the cool metal of the barrel pressed firmly to his forehead. Finger hovering above the trigger.

“I believe the lady said to leave.” Nanami’s voice startles you both. His normally stoic face was etched with anger.

Despite his injuries, Naoya manages to glare at Nanami. But, realizing the odds are against him, he backs away, but not before venomously promising “This ain’t over, sweetcheeks.”

He leaves a bloody trail as he limps out of sight.

“Told you this wasn’t good for business.” Nanami sighs at the chaos. With Nanami’s help, you carry Satoru inside - body moving on instinct as your mind races to process everything that happened.

The empty bar now serves as an improvised hospital. Laying Satoru down on a table that acts as a makeshift bed, propping his feet up in a desperate attempt to recirculate his blood. You desperately tear the intricate of your engagement dress into bandages, hurriedly wrapping it around his injured arm.

The atmosphere is taut, air once thick with the stench of alcohol now reeking of blood and the dusty antiseptic Nanami had brought to you from the very back of his shelves. The methodic ticking of the bar clock sounds like gunshots to your ears.

His reassuring presence is probably what keeps you sane as you stare unmovingly at your hands, stained a dark red from the blood seeping through Satoru’s clothes.

You must have been sitting there for hours. Maybe even days. Or it might have even been just a few minutes.

All you know is a flash of blue, and you’re surging forward, heart racing. “Satoru?! Satoru! Please say something.” you cry out, tears streaming down your face once more. Nanami quietly makes his exit to the back, leaving the two lovers to their privacy.

“Satoru.” you breathe out, relief flooding your body and a smile forcing its way onto your face as Satoru’s half-lidded eyes meet your worried ones.

“M’lady.” he whispers weakly. His uninjured arm shakily cups your cheek, and you lean into his warm touch. “I would never have forgiven myself if I left you alone, m’lady.” he rasps, eyes boring into yours. “Couldn’t have fought off the tumbleweeds yourself.”

You let out a watery laugh. There he is, the man you love.

“I love you, Satoru.” you speak in a hushed tone, as if anything louder will throw you back into your nightmare. His smile grows, blue summer eyes flooding with silent tears.

“I love you, too. So, so much. Wherever you go s’ where I belong, my love.” he utters words meant for you - and only you.

Your heart swells at the indescribable emotion on his face. “Then, rest well. We have to make our getaway in a blaze of glory, remember?”

It wasn’t a blaze of glory, more like a teary trail of apologies and thanks as you embrace Nanami farewell - for the second time today. He hugs Satoru too, but only begrudgingly after he bemoans about being on the brink of death any second now.

You step outside once more, hands shaky at what awaits you.

In the distance, you hear a frantic call of your name. You turn, only to have your parents barreling emotionally into you.

Word seems to have spread around town about what had happened, and your parents were first to come to you - your father running off midspeech.

Through your hurried stream of tears and recollections of what happened, you managed to bawl out “I-I’m so-”

Words which are quickly hushed by your equally emotional parents. “Please don’ apologize.” your mother soothes.

“If anything, I should. I’m so sorry for tryin’ to coop you up here, my dear. I was a scared, insolent man. S’hard to not see you as my little girl, I hope you can forgive me, my darling.” your father sighs shakily. He looks a lot older than you remember him.

Grabbing both your parents into a tight embrace, you whisper out the words “I love you, and I promise to write.”

With a final hug goodbye from your parents - to both you and Satoru, you take a seat in front of him on the now-calm Gege.

“Ready m’lady?” you send a teasing glance at Satoru, who positively swoons overdramatically.

“Oh yes, Mr. Brave n’ Handsome cowboy.” he responds in a theatrically high falsetto. “Travelin’ the world won’t be all sunshines and rainbows, y’know? If you want a way out now then jus’ say the word.” he warns in his normal voice.

“Trynna get rid of me already, cowboy?” you raise a brow playfully. He wraps his arms securely around your waist. “Just sayin’, wouldn’t want you to regret a single thing.” he murmurs softly.

“I won’t. As long as we win against those tumbleweeds, right?”

Huffing out a laugh, “Can’t promise ya that, my love. You’ll jus’ have to take a chance on me.”

The snap of reins. A last look at your waving parents, and your little town of Rustcliffe. You ride into the horizon with your white dress billowing behind you - on what you and Satoru would later consider blazing glory.

---

“Didya hear about the mayor’s daughter? Last I heard, she was kidnapped by a rogue cowboy a couple years back, snatched her straight off her feet on her wedding day!”

“Hogwash! I heard she went quite willingly - the boy was quite a looker, you see. Stabbed her fiancé in his sleep before riding off into the sunset!”

Nanami stifles a laugh at the scandalized gasps echoing around the table as the old drunkards run the gossip mill.

In a subtle motion, he discreetly tucks away a photograph, its back adorned with enthusiastic handwriting and a…hoofprint?

Taj Mahal sprawling in the backdrop, two identical heads of white hair grin mischievously in the photo.

Yet, yours takes center stage.

A/N. Did this in two days, anything is possible kids (I need to lie down). Reblogs are so so so appreciated.

Plagiarism not authorized.

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dr3c0mix · 4 months

Text

My Lovely Melody

Yandere!Rockstar x GN!Reader

CW: yandere is a playboy before he meets reader, suggestive (creepy) thoughts, minor obsessive behaviour

🎸 Axel's been in many relationships with both men and women alike, but all of his little flings felt nothing more than that, just flings.

🎸 And he was content with it, I mean being a famous rockstar meant lots of people wanting a chance with you and he indulged in that fact.

🎸 He could sleep with whoever he wanted, whenever he wanted, and he wouldn't have to deal with the commitment that comes with dating or any of that messy stuff.

🎸 So why the hell can't stop thinking about you ?!?!?!!

🎸 He scratched his head trying to make sense of it, his messy hair getting even more ruffled as he tries to get the image of your smile out of his head.

🎸 You were in a miscellaneous store full of alt clothing, trinkets and various other stuff when he walked in with his bandmates.

🎸 It was fairly normal when he came in the store. It was dim with some random punk song playing faintly in the background. His friends started exploring, looking at the graphic t-shirts and mugs shaped like skulls and the like.

🎸 He got a bit bored and wandered to the other side of the store. It had posters, candles and..who's that?

🎸 There you were, staring longingly at a plush toy sitting on one of the shelves, just standing there.

🎸 He didn't think much of it, probably just some person baked out of their mind. "Hey buddy, you doin' good?"

🎸 You snap out of your gaze and look at the big hulking man in front of you. You stutter out an apology and explain your little misfortune.

🎸 "So you want this..toy...but you can't afford it..?" He raises a brow at you as you nod, making him chuckle.

🎸 He thought for a moment, looking at the stuffed creature, well it wouldn't hurt to buy it for you, he's pretty well off from all the gigs and concerts he's been in so...

🎸 "How 'bout I buy this thing for ya then? But you owe me~" He winks, thinking he could score some quick sex for being such a 'gentleman'

🎸 But no, instead of a blush or a knowing smirk, you just looked at him with the widest, most innocent eyes he's ever seen, you were practically shaking with joy as he said it.

🎸 You thanked him profusely before listing off things you could do in return, treating him to some food, buying something for him in return, plain paying him back..he was a bit surprised.

🎸 "O-oh...uhm that was a joke heheh, y-you don't have to do all that babe..." He blushes.

🎸 The two of you head to the cashier, his friends spying from behind the aisles as his gaze is locked on the little ball of cuteness beside him.

🎸 Seriously? Did you even know who he was? This has never happened before...most of the time, he would pay for someone's drink or something and they'd be on his dick in seconds, but you, you were so..different...it felt nice..

🎸 You didn't even get it in a bag, you immediately took the plush after it was paid and hugged it close.

🎸 so cute so cute so cute so cute so cute!!!

🎸 "Hey uh..so me and my buds are in a band and uhm..wanna maybe..watch our next gig?" He asks nervously, he's never been so shy towards anyone!!

🎸 You agree, thinking it's the least you could do for what he did for you.

🎸 You take out your phone, Axel can't help but grin at the case, it was cute, like you~..

🎸 "Here's my number if..you need it.." You smile at him, that smile..that damn cute smile...you had his heart wrapped around your finger at this point.

🎸 "Th-thanks sugar..I'll see you there.." He smiles back as you part ways, he heads back to his friends who were bombarding him with questions as he watches you skip out of the store with your new little soft friend.

🎸 That night, he was getting ready for the show when he got a message notification and sees that you sent a picture of the show from one of the seats with some text "Good luck out there!"

🎸 His face was on fire as he realized you were there, he peeks out in the crowd and there you were, your little plush toy in tow.

🎸 You look so out of place from the people in spiky jewelry and dark outfits, you were just in a hoodie and baggy pants, albeit the hoodie had a MCR design on it, but you can tell it was very soft compared to the rest of the audience.

🎸 Finally it was time for the show to begin and it was the most passionate he's been in a while, it seemed as if the words he was singing were dedicated to you and you alone.

🎸 The little glances at you made you giddy, like a friend seeing their bestie perform, you were cheering excitedly for him, not in a fangirly way, but one of genuine support and amazement.

🎸 After the performance, Axel tried finding you, but the crowd was too big and he assumed you must have left already.

🎸 Wait..why is he being so buddy buddy with you? You just met today! It's not like you two were best friends or anything!

🎸 He tried dismissing the thought of you, tried distracting himself by flirting with other people, but he could only think about you, and making you smile like that again..

🎸 no no no! get out of my head!

🎸 Maybe a little fling can ease his mind?

🎸 Even on his bed with some random girl after show, he can still think of you.

🎸 Would your skin be as soft? or maybe softer? How would your hair smell? He bets your moans would sound delicious..

🎸 shit FUCK!!

🎸 Even after his one night stand, he kept thinking of you

🎸 He stares at your messages, you sent a lot of pictures of your plush toy doing goofy things to him, so cute..so silly...he can't help but smile.

🎸 He decides to look you up on social media and..

🎸 Wait a minute...you make music too?

yep this was a bit short but idk man i love making you guys suffer <3 stay tuned for part 2 (i am actually out of ideas guys please request me please please ple-)

#yandere #yandere x reader #male yandere #oc yandere #yandere x gn reader #yandere oc #yandere male #tw yandere #yandere x male reader #x reader #rockstar x reader #x gn reader #gn reader #oc x reader #yandere x you #opossumdoodles

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silassinclair · 1 month

Text

Yandere Wild West Outlaw x Reader

CW// Possession, Obsession, Yandere Behavior, Jealousy, Suggestive Content, Gaslighting, Maddox has a housewife fetish (16+)

Masterlist

When Maddox first saw you hiding in your wardrobe after having killed your Father he was shocked to see such a pretty woman inside. He knew your Father had a daughter but he didn't know she'd be a fierce and beautiful young woman.

Maddox knew he had to have you. No way was he going to leave you in this bumfuck town in the middle of no where. You're too valuable.

He ties you up and takes you away from your hometown. You're his now so he's taking you with him wherever he goes. Having a pretty little accessory like you will give him bragging rights after all.

He takes you to saloons while he plays cards with his buddies. Has you sit still and look pretty on his lap while he drinks and plays. His friends say dirty things about you. Commenting on how submissive you are for Maddox. Maddox eats their comments up like a full course meal.

"You boys wish you had this fine piece of ass. But she's mine."

When you're at his temporary house he has you play housewife. You cook his food, clean his laundry, and most importantly you take him like a good girl and let him use you to pleasure himself.

"You like that yeah? You don't? Then shut your pretty little mouth n' take it anyway. Don't make me mad now."

But over the course of a few months and after spending more time with you he sees you less as an object to brag about and more as a companion. He sees you everyday so of course he develops feelings. Feelings he denies of course.

"You think cus' I'm being nice lately you can just skip doin' laundry? Well you've been a good girl this week so I'll let it slide... But you're doin' it tomorrow! No excuses!"

Maddox takes you to the saloon with him again as usual. This time the sexual comments his friends say make him see red. He draws his gun and shoots them all dead where they sit.

"I should have never let em' say that vulgar shit bout' you. Shoulda never let you in that shithole in the first fuckin' place. C'mon, we're goin' home."

Fucks you gently this time and prioritizes your pleasure over his. You're so cute mewling beneath him. Praises you instead of degrades you.

"You can take it princess, c'mon! Don't tell me to slowdown when I can feel how good you feel on me. Yeah that’s it, good girl. Doin’ so good for me… Ya’ feel divine~"

He slowly starts bringing you into town less often. When you ask why you can't come with him he simply says that you're safer at home.

A month goes by and you're tired of being holed up in his house. So you take the risk and leave while he's taking his afternoon nap.

Bad Choice….

"You thought you could leave me?! Baby I love ya', I really do but sometimes you're real fuckin' stupid."

Locks the doors, windows, and always has his eye on you. When he has to go out he keeps you tied to the bed by the ankle.

Every night he holds you close to him. He's a light sleeper, he'll feel if you move and try to escape him. If that happens he'll embrace you in a nearly bone crushing hug.

He’ll wrestle with you if you try and fight him, but he’ll never strike you. He’d never do that after seeing the abuse his Mother endured from her customers at the brothel.

Comes home one day with two golden rings. He wears one and forces the other onto your ring finger. It's a perfect fit.

"You're my wife now and I'm your husband. You'll address me as such, got it?"

No wedding, no priest, no judge, no documentation. He says you're his wife now and that's that.

"There's names engraved inside the rings.? That's just the name of the jeweler I got it from... Don't worry your pretty little head about it."

You two never get to settle down. You hop from one abandoned home to the other. After all he needs to always be on the run from the law. It's a stressful but exhilarating lifestyle. Danger lurks at every corner.

Loves calling you by his last name. Though your last name is still legally L/n; Maddox says that since you’re his wife you have his last name. After all you two are wearing the rings to prove it!

"Thank you for the meal Mrs. Graves, God you're perfect. Where have you been all my life?"

He adores your body. Doesn't matter what body type you have. Chub? He's kneading it with his hands while he praises you like the goddess you are. Insecure about how the outline of your ribcage is visible? He traces his fingers down to your tummy and then goes even lower... He can't keep his hands off.

Favorite thing to do is hug you from behind and just press your backside against him while you do chores. It feels so domestic and it makes him feel like he isn’t a wanted criminal for a moment.

Kisses? He loves to kiss you! His favorite spots are your ankles, tummy, and forehead. And your lips ofc!

Whenever you have to slip your stockings on he swats your hands away and does it. He’ll pull them up sensually and slowly, trailing kisses from your ankle up to your thigh as he does so.

“Your skin’s so soft princess, just wanna take a bite. You’ll let me right?”

He loves animals. His horse Jasper is his best friend. Jasper won't let anyone ride him except for you and Maddox. Anyone else gets thrown off and stomped on.

Since this is the 1800’s people don’t really bathe as often. But Maddox is different. He can’t stand having grime on him for too long after you called him stinky once. So now he bathes more often than most. And you bathe with him too. You have no choice in the matter.

“Mmm love it when you wash my hair sweetheart… Ya’ fingers feel like heaven..”

Maddox is a tough guy. He's taken bullets, stabs, you name it. He even survived a hanging once. If anything happens to you he'll fight God himself just to keep you safe. Even if it costs him his life.

"GET YA' MEATHOOKS OFF MY WIFE YOU FUCKIN' ANIMALS!"

Tells you he loves you everyday. And if you don't say it back? Well he'll just bug you until you say it. After your "marriage" he doesn't really punish you anymore. You’re his partner for life, you deserve the world.

Respects women. His Mother worked in a brothel so he witnessed how men mistreated women. He could never do that to you... Even though he did early in your relationship. But he'll never admit that! Bring it up and he'll call you crazy.

"Sweetheart I never harmed a hair on your head, quit talkin' nonsense."

Teaches you how to fire a gun just in case. Hopefully you'll never have to use the skill though.

Spoils you whenever he can. Maddox has a decent amount of money but it's still pretty tight. Buying you things isn't an option because being on the run means you need to have minimal baggage. So he treats you to dinners and cute little dates.

Overtime you get used to this life. You forget he ever even killed your old man.

Anyone is free to request anything! Don't be shy! I'm hyperfixiating on this oc so I'll happily write anything for him. As long as it isn't blatant NSFW :-)

#yandere #yandere x reader #x reader #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #obsession #headcanons #yandere headcanons #maddox graves #western #fem reader

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hazelfoureyes · 8 days

Note

So a friend read the little gifts that I dropped for you, and her first question was: "They're in a hotel right? Aren't there other people???" You can thank her for this. Btw I'mma roll with the Smut Santa thing now ☄️❤️

"What the fuck is he doin' up there?" Angel mumbled under his breath as he climbed the steps of the hotel. "And why the FUCK am I bein' sent to shut him up? I'm a guest, not an employee in this dump!" He continued to grumble as he made his way closer to Alastor's room, but as he rounded the corner, he knew. Oh buddy, HE KNEW. There was no mistaking that familiar thumping noise of wood against drywall, and there CERTAINLY was no mistaking the cries of ecstasy that could be heard all the way at the end of the hall where Angel stood. "Huh... who knew he had it in him..." he said with a smirk as he reached for his phone, quickly looking for a way to record the sounds coming from his room. But that was before he noticed one of the other doors in the hall was cracked open. Quietly, Angel put his phone away and crept up on the cracked door, trying to figure out who might be listening in on something that had even him blushing like a school maiden.

"Ssshhut up before sssomeone hearsss you!" He heard from the other side, and instantly he knew - it was the drawn out S sound, and the hiss of his tongue darting out between his teeth that have Sir Pentious away. Angel clicked his tongue before he shoved the door open, knocking Pentious on his back and sending his notepad and pencil flying. "The fuck are you doin' in here, huh? Spyin' on the Radio Demon gettin' freaky?" Angel accused him, as if he wasn't just doing the same. "He's gonna kill ya when he- mmmhhh!" The spider demon started in on but Pentious, only to have his mouth covered and his arm nearly yanked out of its socket as Pentious pulled him into the room and cracked the door once again.

"Be quiet!" He hissed, one of his Eggbois bringing the notepad and pencil back to him. "Here ya go, boss!" The creature announced. Pentious hissed at him once again to shut up, and then returned to his spot by the door, scribbling something down as he listened to what was coming from Alastor's room. "I'm taking notesss for when I... for when..." Pentious started, suddenly becoming bashful as he attempted to explain himself. Angel stared at him, one set of arms crossed and the other placed on his hips as he waited for an explanation.

He knew, though. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that Sir Pentious had a thing for Cherri Bomb. But Pentious - being the little prude that he was (everyone was a prude to Angel... well, except Alastor, now. He made it off that list.) - quickly covered up the confession he was about to let loose. "I'm writing down everything I hear, ssso I can ussse it againssst Alassstor the next time we do battle!" He covered, flashing a toothy grin at Angel before he went back to his notes. Poor thing thought he was so clever, it was adorable.

Unimpressed, Angeldust stared at Sir Pentious' back for a few moments, trying to decide if he wanted to call him on his bullshit, help the fucker out, or use THIS against HIM later on. But then he remebered: they're supposed to be trying to redeem themselves. That was the whole point of this crapfest they've all come to call home. With a groan, Angel approached the door and yanked it open, grabbing Sir Pentious on the way out.

"Look man, he's gonna kill us both if he finds out we heard any of this." Angel griped, fighting back the urge to shudder at the slimy feel of Pentious' skin. "If ya want pointers on how to impress Cherri, I'll help ya. Just burn that notebook and don't speak about this to anyone! Capische?" It took Pentious a few moments to respond, but ultimately he agreed, slowly following behind Angeldust as they walked down the steps, his Eggbois in tow.

"Hey boss, why does the tall red guy want Y/N to say his name so bad?"

"SHUT UP FRANK!"

You

you can write every character

so well

It’s…. Unfair and upsetting and very exciting

💦

not the wood and drywall

(Smut Santa: @synamartia)

#hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #☄️❤️#smutbox #smut santa

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10yrsyart · 4 months

Text

Connor needs more friends and Tron lost/ destroyed all his friends, so i think they should be buddies 😤👌 they have a lot in common, they can bond over their shared trauma hahah

(the crossover came to me in November and then i shot myself in the foot by deciding to do traditional instead of digital 😂 ...and it hasn't left me alone, so there may be more still)

DBH/ Tron AU

transcript:

Connor: -nothing so far. It appears to be a library archive of ENCOM's back up files. Copies of layouts and simulations. But no location of the GRID server or current status.

Markus: Alright Connor, keep me posted. And be careful.

Connor: I will, Markus.

Connor: (A corrupted security file..? Why-)

Connor: --W A K E U P--

Connor: I'm sorry. Your updated matrix was corrupt, so I had to access your base code.

Tron: Are you a User?

Connor: My name is Connor, I'm th- I'm an android.. a detective with New Jericho.

Tron: My name is Tron. To what do I owe a super computer for the rescue?

Connor: New Jericho received an anonymous tip about the existence of ISOs in ENCOM's dormant system, and I recovered your security program during my search. Perhaps you'd be able to help me?

Tron: I cannot condone any program, or AI for that matter, actively working to harm the Users or ISOs.

Connor: That's not our intent, I promise you.

Tron: ...Very well. On one condition.

Connor: Yes?

Tron: ..I'm an old program, Connor. Would you tell me.. how the User world has changed?

Connor: (smiles)

(BONUS)

Tron: Connor! It's good to see you.

Connor: Hello, Tron.

Tron: How are you?

Connor: I'm well. I was telling my friend Hank about you and the date of your origin. And he said, “For pete's sake, kid, what'cha doin with all us old guys? Ya gotta get out more, get some sun.”

Tron: He sounds like he would have enjoyed one of MY User friends.

Connor: Maybe if he knew who you were, Hank would feel differently-

Tron: NO... no, I'd rather keep my anonymity. It's better that way..

#detroit: become human #connor rk800 #dbh connor #tron #tron 1982 #tron legacy #dbh markus #comic page #comics #traditional art #sketchbook comic #my art #long post.#DBHTronAU

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hidtired · 8 days

Text

Unfortunate Timing Prologue

(Daryl Dixon x Reader) Masterlist

Description: You found out your pregnant early into your relationship with Daryl Dixon. To make matters worse? The apocalypse happens a few days later! (not fully canon)

5.7k words

Warnings (Pregnancy, gore, smut, reference to abuse, violence, fluff, walking dead stuff, ect.)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 etc.

Pre Apocalypse

You had moved to a small town in Georgia to get away from your parents. Your Aunt Mary had a little boutique and offered a job. Your parents didn’t like you weren’t married yet, not even dating either. So they have been shoving men at you for the last few years. They thought by your age you should have been married with kids. They wanted grandkids. Your brother was married but him and his wife struggled with fertility. The final straw was trying to get you into an arranged marriage with one of your father’s business buddies kid. You had only just turned 30.

It had freaked you out how your parents made it seem like you didn’t have a choice. So you packed your bags, your mother pleaded for you to not go. You broke the lease to your apartment and left without telling them where.

You like the simple life you were leading now. Helping your Aunt's business. You lived with her because she was a widow with no kids and wanted the company. You had some interesting neighbors across the street. You had just driven into the driveway taking notice of a man fixing his truck. It was hot outside and his arms were covered in grease.

You walked into the kitchen where your Aunt was doing dishes. You decided to help making idle talk about how the shop was until you looked out the window to still see the sleeveless man. Your Aunt caught you looking, "Thought you came here to get away from boys?" You smile shyly at being caught, looking back down and handing her a wet plate to be dried. "Never said that... Just the one my parents choose. Didn't have time to look for a date when men were thrown at me randomly by them." Your Aunt was amused to say the least. "That's Daryl Dixon, him and his brother live there. You have to watch yourself with a Dixon. But Daryl has helped me with a few things that broke around the house. He replaced the battery's in the fire alarms for me a week before you came."

You gave her a sideways look, "You trying to set me up now to?" Mary laughs, "Fine fine, granted I do bake something for him every time he does something for me. Could just have a sweet tooth." You look back out the window, ‘Daryl huh?’

It was a week later that you got a call from your brother. You went on a walk to take the call. He was anger that your father was on him for a kid because you had disappeared. The pressure had turned to his wife who was already having a hard time with infertility. It was when you were walking back to the house did the conversation get heated.

"Grow a back bone and yell at them Mathew! Why are you coming at me for!?" He responded with his own venom, "Why couldn't you just do what they asked! But go ahead die alone for all I care!" He ended the call abruptly after. You clenched your teeth tight and closed your eyes trying to compose yourself. A voice called from across the street, "Ya doin alright over there?" You turned to see Daryl beer in hand with the hood of his car open. You sighed shoulders sagging, "Sorry for the yelling." Daryl pick up another beer showing it off to you, "Sounds like ya could use one of these." You put your hands to your hips before deciding to walk over. You grab the beer he handed you with a smile, "Thanks..."

You cracked the can open taking a sip. Daryl stare at you for a second before saying something, “Yer boyfriend causing you trouble?” You chuckled at the thought, making a small face of disgust at it even, “No, that was just my brother being an ass.” Daryl took mental note of that ‘single’. He huffed and looked back down into his trucks hood. “Oh trust me I know how that is.” You look at him as he refocused his attention to his car, ‘That’s right, that’s what your Aunt had said.’ You lean against the truck. “Your Daryl right? I’m Y/N” Daryl looked back up at the mention of you knowing his name, “Oh so ya heard bout us.” He sounded a bit disappointed at the thought. You lean to look inside the car, smiling over to him, “Only the things my Aunt said.” He perked a brow at that, “Who’s yer Aunt? What she say about us?”

“Mary.” You pointed over your shoulder to the house, “And she mentioned you might have a sweet tooth.” Daryl looked over to the house of the lady he often did things for, her niece chiming in again. “Always see you fixing this truck across the street.” He pulled a red rag from his back pocket wiping his hands, “Ya damn thing always seems to be breakin.” He took notice of the girl fully now. You took slow sips of the beer he gave you while starring into the hood. “Well if I have any trouble with my car I know who to ask.” You looked up to him with a shy smile. “I’m useless when it comes to knowing anything about cars.”

That’s how they both started talking. You watching him fix a couple spark plugs while talking about things. Getting to know each other a little. Like how you were helping Mary with her shop. “Ah, so you just moved here.” You nodded, “Mmm about a month. Have no clue where anything is and have no friends so…” you shrug. A breeze started as evening was setting in. Daryl hesitated before saying, “I could show you some local spots.” He bit the side of his thumb nail waiting for an answer. You had bit your bottom lip looking up at him and smiled, “Sounds like fun to me.”

He was worried for a second he messed up, “There’s a bar that everyone knows, real popular on Fridays.” You nodded while looking at him staring down at your watch seeing you had been talking for about a hour. It was getting late so you slowly started to walk backwards to your house. You smile with a glint in your eye, “Sounds like a Date… see you Friday!” You waved and all he could do was look on with wide eyes. Did you just- “Pick you up at 8!” He yelled. He was in slight disbelief at the out come. Had you been flirting with him the whole time?

You had handed him a tool before he could even ask. You had known how to do it all along and played stupid to talk with him. He smiled down as he closed his hood. ‘Oh you were trouble.’

When Friday came he was kicking himself. This was unlike him to go on dates. But he wouldn’t deny he liked you. You were also looking forward to a date for the first time in a while. Preferring it more than being tricked on to one with some guy your parents liked. Daryl probably didn’t fit that kind a guy they would. Oh but your kind definitely. Your Aunt watched you try on an outfit before deciding to go with a floral casual dress that went to your knees. She gave you a smug look and you only rolled your eyes. You had a long black jacket over you, knowing it was already cool outside.

Daryl knocked on the door and off you went in his truck to this bar. He was slightly nervous when he saw you dolled yourself up, and for him? He had lied to Merle where he was going and doing. He was desperately trying not to blow this, “Ya look pretty…” he had said it at a stop light looking over to you. It’s everything a girl wants to hear, and it sure made you smile.

When they got to the bar the bartender seemed confused to see Daryl with a girl. He was normally there with his brother. Mostly to make sure he didn’t do anything stupid he had noticed. “Well if it isn’t a Dixon, tell your brother he still owes me for the glass he broke.” Daryl cringed at the mention of his brother. You just simply took a seat on a stool. “What can I get you two.”

You had a few drinks you’ll admit. You tried a classic drink that the locals had. You were grossed out at the drink causing you and Daryl to laugh. He only had a drink with the need to drive you both home. You had tried to play pool but decided you were a little to inebriated at how many times you missed the ball entirely. You were standing in a corner of the bustling bar talking. You held a bow empty cup dying laughing at a story had told you about his childhood. Sometimes kids dumb actions, like jumping off a shed in a hero outfit, were just funny. You had lost a little balance at your laughing and place a hand onto Daryl’s chest. He only looked down to you putting a hand to your waist to steady you. You had tears of laughter in you eye, you fanning your face to no ruining your make up. He was definitely enjoying this more than he wanted to.

You had been at the bar for about 4 hours with Daryl. You now walked leaning into him in the parking lot. He had an arm around your shoulder leading you to the car door. He started the car and looked over to you, “Should have told me ya were a lightweight.” You gasped offendly, “Lightweight! I’ll have you know I’m just tipsy.” He looked at you questioningly humming. You relaxed into the car seat, “Ok, I’ll admit I haven’t done this in a while- might be a little rusty on the drinking game.”

You both continued to joke around until getting to the neighborhood. He back up in your drive way to later drive into his own. Him doing that thing with his arm as he back up. You bit your lip at the sight. When he parked and looked at you you spoke, “Thank you for this Daryl, I had fun.” He nodded, “Was my pleasure…” you had slowly moved closer crossing the middle seat. He looked down at your flushed face, mostly done by the alcohol. That liquid courage probably giving you the strength to grab him by the chin and slowly kiss him. He leaned into it grabbing your hip. You pulled back with a bashful smile,

“Same time next week?”

He had fully smiled at that, “Ya bet your sweet ass. Now get out of here miss ‘tipsy’.” You giggle wiggling your way out of the car. Waving goodbye with a stupid smile on your face. He felt his heart skip a beat, ‘oh he was real screwed…’

That night he even thought back to how you were looking at him on the way back. He had caught you leaned against the window with hooded eye. When he looked at you, you tried to fight a smile. Oh and how could he not think of the kiss. His hands dragged down his face at the thought.

This went on for a little over a month. You would see each other throughout the week but Fridays you would go out. Small touch’s and kisses here and there. It wasn’t until you ended up back at that bar that things changed. You were only 2 drinks in. You sat in a booth with Daryl. Head on his shoulder and hands intertwined under the table. You pulled away getting up, “I’m going to get another drink and you a beer. Then I’ll wipe your ass in a game of pool!” Daryl chuckled, “Let’s hope you can hit the ball with your cue this time.” You stuck out your tongue at him while walking to the bar. You had only been waiting for your drinks when a man slide up next to you.

“Whats a pretty thing like you doing with a Dixon? He blackmailing you?” The man held a sleazy smirk. You only look at him with disgust ignoring him. It was when he put his hand to your arm pulling you closer did you talk to him, “Hey back off!” The man’s grip tightened, “What you a hooker or something? Only way a Dixon could get some pipe is by paying for a slut.” You had yanked your arm from him, you falling back a little before landing against someone behind you. A arm rapping around you, you recognized it instantly, Daryl. His voice growling and rumbling against you, “Back off my girl.”

The man who was bothering you only rolled his eyes, “Maybe keep your slut on a leash-“ You had felt Daryl lean forward behind you before you even saw him sock the guy in the face. You had gasped and turned to push Daryl back from the guy. He stumbled and held his nose. You whispered to Daryl, “Ok it’s time to go…” You tried to push him closer to the door but the jackass decided to spit out another comment, “Ya let your bitch drag you away pussy!” You felt Daryl lean forward and resisted you leading him backwards but you spoke softly up to him, “Please…” His eyes briefly met yours. He looked back up to the guy who was probably drunk but, Daryl’s blood was boiling with rage. He relented at your plea and walked out the exit.

He was quiet as he walked back to the truck. Walking a little faster ahead of you. When he got into the drivers seat you had said his name but he wasn’t listening. He put the key in the ignition, turning it on but your hand rested onto his arm and you said his name again, “Daryl…”. He slumped a little and turned the car back off. He slowly turned to look at you. You scooted closer into him. You closed your hands around his face so he would look at you. You gave a small smile, “Thank you.” You gave him a quick peck before leaning back to look at him.

He signed and placed his forehead to yours talking a moment. He thought maybe he was gonna scary you off at the out burst. He whispered, “Hope I didn’t scare ya.” You chuckled shaking your head, “They opposite really. I was scared of that guy and then you came and I felt ok again.” He inhaled a breath before I closing his arms around you. He pulled you into him more and you rapped an arm around his back. You sat there for a moment before you spoke, “Soooo, Your girl huh?”

Daryl froze in place. Didn’t even register he said it in the moment. He pulled back from you, mouth agape, stuttering before he gave up at trying to say anything. You placed a hand into his hair playing with a strand of hair, “I’m your girl?” You had almost whispered it. Daryl cleared his throat, “Will you be?” You let out a breathy sigh,

“Yeah, thought you’d never ask.”

That is when you officially started dating. Sat in the truck, in the parking lot, making out for a good 10 minutes.

You were enjoying the new found established relationship. Over the next week was filled with your Aunt seeing you cuddle on the couch watching a movie. You had even managed to give him a small haircut in his bathroom, “Hmm, I think you would look good with long hair.” Sometime you would find yourself in Daryl’s room laying on his bed just talking when Merle was away.

Speaking of Merle he had later found out when at the bar that his baby brother started a fight over his girlfriend. He had thought nothing of it until he asked his brother if it was true. When it was confirmed he laid hurtful comments at him. ‘No one can love someone like us!’ ‘Like you really?’ It was a definite damage to his ego. But some of the things he said about you rubbed him the wrong way. It made him defensive, ‘She a good lay?’ ‘got you pussy whipped.’ They had yet to even cross that line.

You know understood why Daryl had not wanted you to met his brother at first. He made rude and sexually comments to you. Often either being sexist or racist any time near him. You mostly tried to say clear of him.

Then there came the drama that followed from your parents. Apparently your Aunt let it slip to your brother you were with her. He told your parents and now here you were getting a call from her shop. You picked up the business phone and before you could even spit out your prepared greeting you heard your father’s voice boom over the phone. “Now you listen to me little lady you’re coming back home!” You pause shocked. “Your little tantrum is done and you will do as you’re told!” You could hear your mother in the back telling him to calm down. You to in a breath and replied calmly, “Dad, I will do no such thing.”

He was yelling more. You had caught something about a wedding date and some name before your mother took the phone from him. “Honey, you need to come back home ok?” You really couldn’t understand why, “No Mama I like it here.” She went to go on, “We are just doing what we think is best for you. We just want you to be happy with a husband.” You had enough snapping at them for the first time, “You want what’s best for you. If you wanted me happy you would have listened to me! I’ll have you know with the time I’ve been gone I finally feel free. I even got a boyfriend!”

Your mother gasped, “In the town you’re in! What redneck white trash could you possibly find out there!” You were surprised at the way your mother spoke. But you were also mad at it. You angrily replied, “His name is Daryl Dixon! Fuck you! Never call me again!” You hung up seething. You had closed the shop a little early.

After the call from your parents you walked to the bar. The bartender seemed surprised seeing you without Daryl before asking, “Your usual?” You nodded with an appreciative smile. While waiting for the drink you noticed Daryl’s brother with a few other people. You ignored him deciding you would have the one drink and go home, not really in the mood to deal with Merle.

You had just finished your drink when you heard a commotion behind you. Merle and another were arguing. It was getting really heated. You had stood about ready to leave when the other guy threatened Merle, “I’ll kill you for this!” When you had turned Merle was smug looking and unaware of the knife being pulled from behind the man’s pants. You had yelled, “Merle!” In a panic you lobbed your glass at the man. It shattered over his head sending him to crumple to the side on a table. The knife slipping from his hand and landing in front of him. Merle looked down at the knife before looking up to where the glass came from, spotting you. You were shocked with your mouth open looking at the man holding his head in pain, before looking back to Merle. The few other men that were sitting with them getting up displeased.

Merle realizing he was out numbered started to run toward you. He had grabbed you by the arm and dragged you with him to the exit. The bartender yelled as you got dragged away. “Hey!” You had yelled back before the door closed, “Sorry Lawrence I’ll pay you back later!” Merle was still dragging you along to his motorcycle. The door had swung open and the angry men started to pursue you both. Merle had yelled at you when you pause to look at the door, “Get the fuck on!”

You had hopped over the seat and sat behind him. Not having a moment to hold on before he started to speed off. It wasn’t until he pulled into his driveway that you started telling him off.

Daryl had heard Merle’s motorcycle pull in but he wasn’t expecting to hear you yelling right after it. “Goddamn I’m already having a shit day!” When he walked out the front door to see you telling Merle off as he just sat there on his bike silently taking it. He had never seen his brother not throwing words back at someone. “Are you an idiot!” Not even that got a reaction from him. Daryl knew that would normally get replied by violence. It wasn’t until he spoke did you turn at his voice, “The hell is goin on?” Your anger soon crumpled into tears, you were overwhelmed and maybe a bit scared still body pumping with adrenaline. Daryl almost got whiplash at the sudden mood shift.

That didn’t stop him from hugging you as you started to cry. He shot a look to his brother who still sat on his bike. Merle looking weirded out at the sudden tears. "The hell you do ta her?!” Merle rubbed the back of his neck, "May have got into a bit of a fight at the bar with some folks. She kinda stopped me from being stabbed." He had felt you shaking in his grasp now. He knew you hated conflict, told him about the pit that would form in your stomach. But you stopping Merle from being stabbed? "How she do that?" Merle chuckled, "Threw her glass across the room! Knocked him clean on his sorry ass." He seemed almost impressed by you.

Daryl started leading you back toward your home. Daryl turning to yell back to his brother, "Whatever man piss off." He had gotten you into your house before you spoke, "My Aunt went on her Cabo trip with her book club friends. She'll be gone a week... stay?" He gulped, "If ya really want me to." You nodded, "I don't wanna be alone." He saw you were scared.

He lay next to you in your bed after you calmed down and ate dinner. "Want to talk bout it?" You moved closer to him leading him to put a arm over you. You sighed into him, "I was at the bar because I had a rough conversation with my parents. Somethings were said. Their the reason I moved here, to get away from. I saw Merle and then the knife- then all those men chased us." Your hand rose to pinch the bridge of your nose, "Just been a- a shit day." You move to look up to Daryl's blue eyes a smirk rising to your lips at the worried and tight look he was giving you. He relax a little at your attention. He dragged a hand up your arm to your face, "Merle seems to think your a badass now." He himself was a little proud to hear what you did. You grunted into his chest, "He'd better. Saved his dumbass."

You were talking for a while after that. Seeing the clock blinking 1am now. You were sleepy but enjoyed talking to him to much to fall asleep. Sleep was pulling at your eyes and a question that should have been a inside thought slipped out, "Why haven't we had sex yet?" Daryl was a little taken back but not to shocked at the question, he hummed, "Honestly not a clue, I like you to much to mess anything up." Maybe the tired feeling was making his lips a little loose to. He paused before continued, "I've only had meaningless sex. Nothing with feeling behind it." He smirked down to your hazy eyes, "Why? You tryin to get in my pants?" You chuckled adding a little shrug, "Perhaps. Take me out to dinner and we'll see how the night goes from there." That made Daryl's heart beat a little harder. Of course he has thought about it before just didn't know how to act on it with you. He held you a little tighter to him, goofy smile to his face, "Yes Ma'am."

Take you out to dinner he did. Nothing to fancy but by the end of that night you offered him to follow you inside. You were laughing while bumping backwards into things as you both kissed. You stripping buttons down his shirt when he paused face looking uncomfortable. You stopped at the look. He sighed squeezing his eyes tight. Reminding himself it was you. "Uh sorry, just forgot to mention- just look fer yourself..." You softly pulled the shirt down off of him. Revealing scars along his body.

You dragged a finger along one. You look up at him with round eyes. He looked away before saying, “M’ Daddy was a drunk.” You intake air and release it at the information. You leaned down and kissed the scar you touched. Everything turned slow from that point, more sensual. He rolled into you at a pace he never had before. He was used to chasing a feeling, getting it over with. But every time he would push into you he couldn’t help but love the groans you made. You sure loved the noises subconsciously coming out of him as well. You would move up into him. The slow motion had sent you crazy. Leading you to claw at him begging for more. He didn’t go faster but harder.

Your moans filled your bedroom. Daryl was sucking on your neck while rutting into you. He was huffing out air and grunting in exertion. The tight clench he felt around him damn near knocked the wind out of him. He had pulled out and rested his head on your chest while trying to catch his breath. You dug your hands into the back of his hair.

That night lead to many more like it. Which is what lead you to the current situation going on. You were in the bathroom staring at a positive pregnancy test. Not just one but three. You sat on the floor contemplating, 'How did this happen?' 'Do I keep it?' 'How do I tell Daryl?' You and Daryl had been only officially dating for 3 and a half months now. The first test had you in denial, the second had you begging. The third had you close to acceptance. At least you weren't ugly crying anymore. Before anything you needed to tell Daryl. So you called him over saying it was urgent.

He opened the front door and jogged to your room seeing you crisscross on the bed looking distraught. He kneeled down at the front of your bed looking up at you. You took in a nervous breath before talking, "If you need a moment after I tell you this, its okay, I wont be mad." Daryl's heart dropped to his ass, 'were you about to end stuff between them?'

"I'm pregnant."

His eyes slowly widened and he looked down to your stomach then back to you. He abruptly stood up then paused again. His mind moving a mile a minute but also not at all. The one thing to click was "A father? ME?' He slowly walked out the room. You sat there with tears burning in your eyes watching him leave the room. He paced back and forth hand running into his hair. The fight or flight in him was telling him to run, he was overwhelmed. Then he heard a small sniffle come from the room he had just come from. That stopped him in his tracks. He thinks he loves you. You both hadn't gotten to saying it out loud to each other. He didn't know what love felt like but this was what he imagined it to be. He hated to see you cry. Made him feel like maybe he would to if he didn't fix your tears. When he heard you he slowly made his way back into the room. Realizing you were most likely as terrifies as him, more so even.

You felt his arms around you making you cry harder. You had run the possibility of him leaving in your mind. Fully aware of his lack of a good father in his life. When you pulled away to look at him he also had tears going down his face. It was the first you have seen him cry. You had now put your arms around his middle and pulled him down to now lay on top of you. You had a tight hold on him and he you. You both calmed down and you knew he wasn't leaving, then he also whispered into you, "I've got ya. Both of ya."

It was rough that first day. It didn't feel real. You told Daryl how you were going to make a appointment in the morning. You asked if he was wanting to go with. He had slowly nodded deep in thought. You had said they could talk about everything in time.

You both had time.

You had an appointment in a week, the receptionist suggesting you go and buy prenatal vitamins before then. You also broke the news to your Aunt, she was supportive. Saying she would love to help with anything you needed. You and her walked a few blocks to a small store connected to a pharmacy. You looked to the shelves of pills. You held two big bottles, different brands, of prenatal vitamins. The sound of screaming alerting you to a disturbance in the store. You turn to your Aunt with a questioning look. You both peaked around the aisle spotting someone on top of the other, a fight perhaps?

Gun shots to your left making you jump. You turned seeing a man backing down the aisle beside you shooting rounds into a woman approaching him. You witnessed the women not even flinch to each shot. Your Aunt pulled you by the shoulder backwards down the lane. Another person who was pale with foggy eyes rounded the corner. It grabbed your Aunt and before you could blink took a bit out of her neck. You watch in horror as she dropped to the ground with that person on top of her. Blood from her throat being ripped out had splattered across your face. You screamed terrified. The lady the man had been shooting at now turned the corner from the aisle they were in. Now she was covered in blood though. You look down to your Aunt who had stopped moving. The thing taking notice of you. So you ran.

You had just seen your Aunt being brutally murdered. You ran out the door of the building pill bottle still in hand. You saw people running, cars crashing. Others getting hit by cars. It was a nightmare but you felt like you need to keep moving. You ran down the road back to your house. Dodging anyone covered in blood.

Daryl had kicked the door open to your house. Merle was packing stuff into the truck across the road. He screamed your name looking for you anywhere. When he couldn’t find you he ran back to the car, “I can’t find her!” Merle rolled his eyes, “Forget about her! She probably died someone where let’s get are asses out of here!” Daryl yelled back at him with rage. “THE IS NO WAY IN HELL IM GOING ANYWHERE WITHOUT HER!” The yell had shocked Merle. Daryl had never talk to him like that. “We can find you a new lady we gotta go!” Then Daryl did something more unexpected. He shoved Merle back. He had hit the side door of the truck, Merle was about to hit him when he yelled, “She’s pregnant man!”

Daryl had a panicked and pained expression on his face. He started to stuttered out, “I-I gotta go look—“ The sound of his name being yelled from a distance made him turn in the direction. He was relieved to see you running full speed toward him. His relief flooded by panic at the sight of blood painted across your face and cloths. He ran the rest of the way to you. Crashing into each other in an embrace. You struggled to regain breath after how long you were running. Daryl had held your face seeing were the blood came from. Tears forming in your eyes, “It’s not mine…” Merle’s voice cutting in, “Come on love birds we gotta go now!”

Daryl lead you to the car opening the door and making you jump in, “Stay here I’m going to get some of your stuff.” He ran off back to your house and Merle started tightening the cables to the bike in the back. He sat down in the driver seat and looked over to you. You had two pill bottles on your lap and you stared at your hands shaking. He then noticed all the blood on you and decided to keep his mouth shut. Daryl ran back throwing a duffel bag in the back before going to the passenger side. You sat in the middle still a little stunned. Like a bird who flew into glass.

Daryl’s arm went behind your head resting on your shoulders. You leaned into him. Merle had started to peel out of the space driving off into a direction. You heard little of the talk between them. Choosing a quarry they know to get away from the towns and head into the woods.

All you knew was the world was changing.

Part 2

Feedback welcomed and requests open!

Sorry for mistakes I to eepy its 2 am. I'm dyslexic and struggle with it and normally reread 10 times to fix mistakes but this is so long I wanna go to bed.

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x reader #daryl imagines #daryl x female reader #daryl fanfiction #twd daryl #norman reedus #angst #fluff #smut

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billthedrake · 1 month

Text

LITTLE BRO'S HOMECOMING

Joseph Murphy didn't even have to knock on the hotel door. He'd texted Kyle to get the room number and as he strode up to 1139 in the downtown Boston hotel, the door opened right up.

Kyle was dressed in his Marines cammies - either he hadn't had time to change since checking in or else he wanted to be in uniform for the older man. A big smile formed on the 21 year old's face. "Hey," he muttered as he stepped aside to let the beefy cop enter.

"Hey yeuself," Joe hissed in his thick New England accent as he stepped right up to the young Marine and placed his hands around the stud's waist, drawing him in.

Their kiss was hot. A tongue heavy, facing sucking kind of kiss. Officer Murphy didn't do finesse, and it turns out Kyle Smith was A-OK with that. It had been TOO long since they'd been together, or even seen each other. They'd had a conversation before Kyle's deployment about whether they were dating. The cop didn't feel comfortable with that, and Joe hadn't even reached out to the Marine over the last few months. It was only an instant reply that Kyle received when he said he was coming home that made him realize there was still a spark there.

More than a spark. Officer Murphy was pawing at the ridge of hard military cock in the camo pants. And Kyle was feeling up all the cop beef through the man's long-sleeve Pats T-shirt. THIS was the young man's type to a T. Some heft on his bones, thick muscle, a beer belly. It had been the body Kyle had been into since he first started jacking off. Joe reminded him of his middle school wrestling coach - and even, if he was honest, of his own father.

Officer Murphy was even a dyed-in-the-wool working class New Englander like Kyle's father, only more brash even.

Indeed, the booming voice came as he backed off. "How's my fuckin' parn stah doin?" the cop bellowed, fingers tracing the long ridge of Marine meat sticking up in the uniform.

"Holy fuck, I missed you, man," Kyle said with a big grin. Maybe that was too much to say, but he felt it.

"I bet ya did," Joe said as he crouched down, fingers already fumbling with the uniform. "I know how to take care of this bad boy."

The cop's fingers felt good as they undid the trousers. "Are we gonna wait?" Kyle asked. "I mean, we said..."

Already the cop's big mitt was on the young stud's boner, pulling it out and gently stroking it. "You got a couple in ya, Corporal," he growled. "Come on, Jesus, four months and ya gonna fuckin' blue ball me?"

Officer Murphy didn't give Kyle a chance to answer. The question was rhetorical anyway. Because already he was taking the thick, long tool into his mouth.

"Oh fuck... fuck yes," Kyle hissed as he felt the police officer's hot wet mouth go down on him. The cop sucked dick like he kissed. No finesse. But it was amazing, especially after no sex for the last four months.

The Marine didn't realize he was carrying around so much tension in his body, but as Joe blew him, he felt himself relax, his stance widening just a little and his hand placed gently on top of the man's medium-short hair. He'd experienced a Joe Murphy BJ in full Boston Police uniform. THAT had been incredible, but even now he loved looking down on the man's thick-set daddy bod, face getting redder as he bobbed up and down more quickly. Kyle was still in full uniform, for his part, and he suspected that was driving Joe wild.

"It's not gonna take me long," Kyle warned.

The cop spit out his cock. "Dont ya dare, buddy." He wiped the spit off his chin with the back of his hand and leaned back. Kyle loved that view of him, the way it showed off Officer Murphy's broad rounded shoulders and massive chest.

Kyle knew what the man meant. He actually didn't have a lot of experience with other men. He'd met Joe Murphy when he was still 18, still a senior in high school. But the sex was electric between them. Joe was such a deeply sexual man, and the cop's hunger for a younger top, a much younger top, fueled Kyle's own lust.

"On the bed, Officer," he hissed.

Joe broke into a huge grin. Standing up, he started undoing his jeans and kicking off his sneakers.

"Keep that fuckin' unifo'm on buddy," he growled.

Kyle nodded. "That's 'Corporal Smith' to you, Officer."

"All right, Corporal," Joe chuckled. "Don't hold back. Just go for it, OK?"

Kyle was getting lightheaded now, he was so horny. Especially seeing Murphy pull off that T and reveal that beefy daddy bod. His big brother had teased him once when he showed him a picture of his cop lover. "You a chaser, Kyle?" Brandon had laughed. Kyle stood his ground those. The beer belly on such a meaty frame did something for him. He liked having a lot of daddy to hold onto.

That lot of daddy was naked now and crawling onto one of the queen beds on all fours. Kyle got in place.

"Aw yeah, eat my hole, Corporal. Aw, fuck yeah... root around with that tongue buddy. Get up in daddy's ass. Oh, fucking nasty, buddy."

Kyle remembered the first time he rimmed Joe Murphy he was worried the man would get freaked out. But it was one of Kyle's favorite things to watch in porn, so he just went for it. As they say, history was made. He and Joe rarely had sex without some ass eating.

Still, both knew it wasn't going to be a long rim session. Their absence had been too long. Kyle leaned back up on his haunches and gave a light slap to the cop's surprisingly smooth rump. Leaning over, he pumped out a couple of squirts of lube, which he applied to his boner, and then to Joe's hole.

The cop wasn't exactly slutty, but he was wanton in taking taking cock. Spreading his legs and wiggling his ass some as Kyle fingered him. Then, as Joe felt that thick piece of Marine cock bore in, he hissed and did his best to relax.

"Easy, buddy... easy... I'm fuckin' tight... ya gotta open daddy back up for business OK?"

"Yeah," Kyle hissed. He didn't want to cum yet. He knew if he could get through the penetration he'd be good for a bit.

Joe's verbal streak quieted down as Kyle slowly penetrated the older man. Murphy had lied about his age when they first met on the app, but the cop was 50. Squarely middle aged. The young man sometimes wondered why he was wired for older men, men like Murphy. But now that he was boning Joe, he didn't feel the need to question, his heart and mind and cock knew this is what he wanted.

Finally his balls pressed against the man's ass.

"God, yes," the Marine hissed. THIS was what a homecoming should be.

"I can feel your uniform against me, Corporal," Joe said in a surprisingly quiet tone. "So very hot."

Kyle held the man's waist. The skin was hot to the touch. "I dreamed about doing this in the barracks," he hissed. "Even fantasized about banging the Master Sergeant."

That got a chuckle from Joe beneath him. "I bet ya did, buddy. Just as I've had the hots for the new rookie on the force. Fresh faced fucker."

Kyle pulled back and pushed back in. Not fast, not yet. But he could feel the cop's insides open up for him, some.

"Anyone else fucking you, Joe?" he asked, an edge to his voice.

The reply was quiet. "A couple, Kyle," the cop answered. "It gets lonely, you know."

"Yeah," Kyle said, sadly. He wished he was the only one. But they'd never had that conversation. This was probably not the time to have it. "Man, I wish we didn't live so far apart."

The next thrust was hard, real hard. It knocked the wind out of Joe a little, and if Kyle hadn't fucked the cop like this before he would have been concerned.

"Give me a sec," Joe finally hissed.

Kyle slowed his roll and watched as the man reached over for his own squirt of lube.

The Marine didn't need to be told to resume fucking. That's how it was between him and Joe. Perfect synchronization of needs. The minute he saw the man reach down to jerk his cock, Kyle started fucking hard. Jack hammer thrusts in and out of the man's now relaxed hole.

"That's it, stud... horse hung Marine gonna fuck my cop ass..."

"Fuckin' take it, Officer," he hissed. Getting into it.

With other men Kyle had fucked it wasn't like this. It was usually fucking for his own pleasure or for the bottom's. But he and Joe Murphy were on the same wavelength, the older man rapidly jerking while Kyle threw his strength into hard fucking the beefy daddy.

Just the sight of the man's bare back, strong and full, and the love handles and the way Joe's face turned redder when he was getting close to cumming. Kyle felt that light headed feeling again and knew the cum was already traveling up his piss tube, pumping out from his balls.

"Oh FUCK!" he whimpered.

"SHIT!" Joe grunted.

Their orgasm was simultaneous. Kyle's body clenched and held still as his dick continued to unload inside the man. It had actually taken a few times to talk Officer Murphy into barebacking, but now he couldn't imagine sex between the two any other way. This was just sex, and it was just the hormones talking, but Kyle was in love with the man.

He started to pull back, but he saw Joe's hand reach back, as if to stop him. "Don't, Kyle... stay in me for a while longer, OK?"

The Marine nodded and placed his hand softly on Joe's lower back, feeling up the clammy sweaty muscle. He wondered if his dick was going to go soft. It usually did after a cum like that, but being connected with the police officer meant it still felt rock hard.

***

Brandon Smith waited in the hotel bar, sipping his beer. He was always a little nervous waiting for Preston, but he was getting that pit-in-his-stomach now. Maybe this was a bad idea.

But it only took the sight of his sorta boyfriend in the mirror to brighten up. Preston Weldman cut the vision of a real executive, as tall as Brandon, and his figure looking fit in slacks and a sport coat. The gray temples were the icing on the cake, so to speak. Brandon felt an instant chub in his jeans.

"Hope you haven't been waiting long," the business exec said as he sidled up to the hunky 32-year-old. He placed a hand on Brandon's shoulder. Not obvious but the touch felt electric between the two men.

"No," Brandon shook his head. "Anyway, it's good people watching here," he said.

Preston smiled. "Scoping out the business daddies?" he whispered. He knew Brandon's type. It was how they'd met each other on an app when Brandon was back home visiting family. Leaning in more, he growled. "You're looking really good, Sergeant Smith."

Brandon's heart pounded. "SO good to see you, Press." That had been his nickname for the man. Then, his eyes sweeping up and down, something clicked. "You're not wearing your wedding ring?"

Preston shrugged. "You disappointed?" he joked. "The divorce isn't final but it feels like it, you know?"

Brandon nodded and with concern asked, "How you doing?"

"We'll talk about it later, OK? We have the whole weekend, right?"

Brandon smiled. Long distance was tough, and there was military life on top of that. But maybe that's what worked for this divorced hunk. He had his own busy career to deal with, and his kids, too. "Yeah. I have some stuff I wanna talk about too."

"Yeah?" Preston replied. "You wanna talk about it now, kiddo?"

Brandon shook his head. "I think the guys are up in the room waiting for us."

Preston's lust was visible on his face, even if he normally had that WASPy repressed thing going on. "Sure you're OK with this?"

Brandon laughed. "I was gonna ask you the same thing, Press." He stood up and set down some cash to pay for his beer. "It'll be way hot."

"You're bringing out my naughty side for sure." Preston was definitely in a good mood.

Brandon leaned in and whispered. "How do you think I feel? He's my brother." Then he pulled back and gave a wink to the man before grabbing his overnight bag. "Come on, let's go up."

Even on the elevator ride up, the two couldn't keep their eyes off each other. Preston still couldn't believe he'd scored a young man as hot as Brandon Smith. 6'3" ex-football jock, his body honed by years in the US Marine Corps. The 26-year-old was like a porn character come to life. The superstitious, or realist, part of Preston knew this affair was on borrowed time, that Brandon would move on. But he'd sure as hell enjoy the ride.

***

Joe had dozed off but the knock on the hotel room woke him up. He was naked in the damp, disheveled hotel bed. The kid had gone for seconds, all right, and the middle-aged cop felt well and truly fucked. Like, a sleepy, tired and satisfied level of truly fucked.

The man felt bad for telling Kyle about the hookups he'd had. But he didn't want to hold back from the young man. Besides, there had just been two men over the last few month. They hadn't meant a thing and certainly couldn't hold a candle to Kyle fuckin' Smith.

Another knock came. Louder.

"All right," Joe called out. "Coming!"

He jumped out of the bed and sauntered over to the door. He could hear the shower running, and realized Kyle was in there.

Brandon and Preston were surprised to see the door fling open to reveal the full nakedness of a thick-set 50-ish man they'd never met. Lightly furred front, soft dick dangling beneath.

"Come in, fellas," Joe said. "Kyle's in the shower." Unceremoniously he turned and let the men indoors.

It took a second for Joe to pick up on their reaction. "Why be shy, right?" he said in his thick accent. He flashed an impish smile. "I can cover up if it bothers you though."

"Guess you're right," Brandon said. He held out his hand. "I'm Brandon."

Joe took the hand in his own strong mitt and shook it. "Definitely see the family ressemblance."

"Joe," the cop said.

"Preston," the businessman said as he greeted the cop.

"Jesus what the fuck kind of name is Preston?" Joe quipped.

Brandon got angry. Protective and angry. "We can call this off," he said through gritted teeth.

"Call what off?" came Kyle's voice as he stepped out, towel wrapped around his waist.

Preston's eyes noticeably showed excitement. If he had to pick, he'd choose Brandon's body, but Kyle had a shorter, more compact build that was scrlpted with tight, rounded young muscle.

Kyle immediately picked up on the vibe. "Jesus, Joe. Did you shoot off your mouth again?"

The cop looked genuinely contrite. "Sorry fellas. Guess I'm shitty at first impressions. Preston," he said, turning to the other daddy in the group. "I'm sorry man. Really. That was a shitty thing to say."

"All right," he said in a clipped Yankee accent. "I guess we're not here on a date or anything," he joked.

Joe nodded. "Yeah, the Smith brothers are the stars of the weekend, right?"

Brandon looked at Kyle. "You guys already get started?" he asked his brother.

Kyle nodded. "Yeah, couldn't wait, sorry."

Brandon turned to look at his lover. "I wouldn't mind a little one-on-one time with Press first."

"Yeah, babe?" Preston asked. He wasn't sure how this scene would play out. But as much as he wanted to see Kyle in action, he was drawn to Brandon first and foremost.

The hunky marine pulled Preston closer to him, then guided his arms around the man's waist to draw him into a kiss. It was soft and sensual. Brandon Smith was SUCH an amazing kisser, and inspired Preston to give his best in return.

"We can give ya guys some space," Joe spoke up. Amused to see a version of what he and Kyle had just experienced.

"Yah," Brandon almost said. Only Press' hand gripped his arm.

"It's OK if they watch babe," he said. The older man had a playful look on his face. "I kind of want 'em to."

Brandon looked at Preston in amusement. This buttoned-down divorced dad had a way of surprising him. "OK, he said.

Kyle was still in his towel as he sat on the bed, feeling Joe settle in behind him. The cop's mitts felt good feeling up his ripped Marine muscles. If Kyle hadn't just fucked the man, twice, he'd be boning up fast.

"You OK with this, Kyle?" Brandon asked.

Kyle nodded. "Go for it, bro. It'll be hot to see you guys."

That was all the green light it took for Brandon and Preston. It was like it was just them, alone in the room, even as they were also aware of putting on a show. They slowly stripped each other and made out.

About the only thing to break the spell was the cop's outburst when Brandon removed Press's button-down shirt, revealing a DILF-y gym-toned body.

"Holy fucking shit, he's a frickin' magazine model."

The cop's loudmouth approach had rubbed him the wrong way, but now he enjoyed having Preston's amazing body recognized.

The lovers were soon naked and Brandon was reclining them down on the other bed. Kissing softly even as their bodies humped more urgently. They were matched in height, but Brandon had some more muscle on him, and Preston was feeling up every inch with his hands.

Soon the older man was parting his legs, letting Brandon's body find that spot between them. Their kissing grew more impassioned, until Brandon leaned up.

"Fuck you feel so good, Press," he sighed. "I love ya, man."

"Love you, too, Big B." This was the only thing that made Preston self conscious about having an audience. But he knew this was part of sex between him and Brandon. The emotional openness.

"I need to be inside you, Dad," Brandon hissed.

"Please," Preston said. "I need you, Son."

Joe felt Kyle's body tense in his arms. The cop was a pervy enough man that the dad-son play didn't phase him. But he sensed it hit differently for Kyle. This was his brother, talking about "Dad." Joe just held the 21-year-old tight against him and kissed the side of his neck.

"OK?" he whispered.

"Yeah," Kyle whispered back.

Then Joe felt Kyle's hand grip his forearm, pulling it down. Joe thought the kid was rejecting his embrace but instead Kyle guided Joe's hand lower, right to the towel, where there was a ridge of hard dick. The kid was turned on.

"Jesus, it's a like a Lifetime movie," Joe almost said, but restrained himself. Everything was so frickin sensuous between the other couple. Even the lubing of cocks and the fingering of Preston's hole. The man was glas Kyle was into more animalistic fucking. The kid always had been, even at 18.

At last the divorced exec lifted his toned legs, and Brandon gingerly positioned the ankles on his meaty shoulders. The two locked eyes, silently, lovingly.

And Brandon entered his daddy lover.

Preston winced at entry but after a second, his hands were on Brandon's muscle ass, coaxing him to push in further.

"Not gonna last long today, Dad," Brandon hissed. "You feel so fucking good."

"We got all weekend, Son," Press countered. Before Brandon he didn't enjoy bottoming. Hell, the times he fooled around with men he usually preferred getting head. But this Marine had a way of rocking his world, turning it upside down. Of making him want cock like this. "Fuck me. Fuck your father."

Brandon let out a low deep grunt and powered in. Slowly, sensually at first. God he was SO turned on. Being with Press, hearing that roleplay talk. But also know his little bro was watching. "I'm gonna go a little harder, sir," he hissed.

"Do it!" Press urged.

And like that came a serious of slow, rough thrusts.

"Yes!" the exec grunted. Only Brandon could make him love it like this, too. Hard, with a roughness to each inward push of that meaty cock. "Attaboy."

Brandon had a few trigger words and that was one of them. He knew orgasm was coming now. So he humped more excitedly, hard stokes working to get himself off with this perfect man's ass.

"Yeah, Dad," he hissed. "Gonna cum!"

He felt Press's hands caress his sides, encouraging him to give it up.

"UNNGH!" Brandon grunted and unloaded.

"Yes!" Press said excitedly. He loved watching his Big B cum, loved seeing that mix of youthful masculinity and almost childish need. Already he was stroking his dick to get his own nut.

Brandon took a second to come down from the high but when he did he started working his dick in and out of Press's warm hole. Fucking slowly but hard, the way Press liked it.

The older man wasn't a loud cummer, but Brandon knew how to read the signs. Sure enough. the middle-aged man's body clenched and white hot sperm flew out. Preston Weldman came a lot when he orgasmed.

Brandon pulled out and only then was self conscious that his brother and his brother's lover were looking on.

Kyle had a look that was clearly horny and maybe a little embarrassed. "Why don't we give you some space, Bro?" he said quietly.

The older brother rolled off Preston's body. "We freak you out, Kyle? I guess I should have warned you that we do the roleplay thing."

Joe spoke up. "Don't let the kid fool ya, he loved that shit."

"Jesus, Joe," Kyle objected. But the man was right.

Preston leaned up. He felt a strange fondness for Kyle, a dude he'd never met. "Kyle, it took me a while to get into it." He ran his hand up and down Brandon's strong back. "I don't know... your brother's a persuasive man."

"Eight inches is a lot of persuasion," Joe quipped. He'd just witness the other brother's endowment, and Brandon was as hung as Kyle, for sure.

"Joe, what the fuck?" Kyle pestered. But Brandon and Preston were smirking.

"Fuckin' Christ. What the fuck are we for? It's supposed to be a fun weekend, right?" He patted Kyle's chest affectionately and gave a soft, contrite kiss. "Come on, let's go get a pint and we can talk more at the pub." The cop pulled his meaty body back from his younger lovers and stepped off the bed. "Apparently we need to talk about 'ground rules' or some bullshit," he bellowed.

Brandon had to admit the policeman was growing on him.

#drakestories

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galaxysgal · 3 months

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just started s10 when tami is pregnant asf so now i’m thinking about lip with a lovey needy pregnant gf 🧸🩷 ((not edited + been awake 24hrs+))

“good morning baby,” you croon, watching lip come sleepily down the stairs. he runs a hand through soft, messy curls and waves to franny, who had started giggling the moment she saw him. you sat at the table with her while debbie was in the shower, filing out your crossword and letting franny ask you questions she had about her new baby cousin in your tummy.

“what uh-, fuck, what time is it? how long’ve you been up?” lip asks, rifling through the cabinet for a half-eaten, half-stale box of cereal. he’s tired, you can see the dark circles from across the room. you’d made the decision to let him sleep in, leaving him in the morning with a sweet kiss on his cheek before drawing the curtains and shutting the door.

you shrug, “about noon… been down here since seven. this baby sure is a gallagher, ‘cause he’s real hard headed and stubborn,” you say, playfully pointed at your baby bump.

“baby gallagher,” he mumbles, almost in awe as he pours two bowls of cereal.

you stand, one hand on your back to ease the constant weight of your pregnancy belly, and make your way over to lip. he smiles knowingly as you hold out the fruit basket to him, and takes a banana to cut up in your cheerios. just the way you like it.

he’s thoughtful in that way, knowing what you wanted, what you needed, understanding you in a way no one has before. while lost in thought you feel his arms wrap around your middle, hands resting gently on your baby bump. then, you feel your son kick right under lip’s hand. sure, there’s discomfort attached, but it’s all worth it when you look back at the sweet smile on your boyfriend’s face.

“hey buddy, how ya doin’ in there? hm?” he murmurs down toward your tummy.

“he’s been rowdy this morning,” you confess. you’d barely slept because of your son’s constant kicking. “i think he’s ready to be outta there, aren’t you little man?”

lip laughs softly at that, moving to finish slicing up the banana for your cereal. “you should’ve woke me up. i could’a helped try and get ya comfortable or somethin’,” he tells you, turning his head towards you with concerned eyes.

you just shake your head with a dismissive smile. “you needed the rest, lip. i let you sleep in.”

“hey, look at me will ya?” he says, reaching a hand out to guide your cheek. you meet his eyes, seeing him softly search your face. “you gotta rest too, mama.”

you shrug him off, but fall in at his side as grabs the milk from the fridge. “baby keeps me up, then i think about all the shit i gotta do and-“

“nuh uh, none of that, we’re in this together yeah?” he says bluntly, cocking an eyebrow at you.

“of course,” you respond with a kiss to his cheek. his skin is still warm from sleep, and you breathe in the scent of tobacco and cologne.

lip nods, satisfied. “there we go, end of discussion. you wake me up next time, you hear me?” he says playfully. he turns around to grab the shaker of cinnamon but you reach out and catch his sleeve, pulling him in so your faces are nearly touching.

“thank you,” you murmur to him, hand coming up to stroke his cheek. “and i love you. so, so much.”

you can feel lip heat up at your words, but he kisses you softly instead. the two of you are so close together, the world falling silent as you lived in this brief, shared moment.

“yeah, yeah,” he murmurs, laughing softly, but after a moment his shifts into a genuine expression as he adds, “i love you too. so much.”

end.

#i’m high asf and sleep deprived but i needed to say thjs #tbh this could be nonsense k didn’t rlly proofread #and also i’m so fucked up rn !!#lip gallagher x reader #lip gallagher imagine #lip gallagher fanfiction #lip gallagher x oc #lip gallagher x y/n #mags writes #🍃 posting #shameless fanfiction

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toournextadventure · 11 months

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movie night drabble i

Summary: The ever elusive Tara Carpenter finally makes her appearance at your brother's frat party. Maybe you'll kiss. Okay, you'll definitely kiss.

Word Count: 3.1k Warnings: swearing, smut 18+, underage drinking, slight violence Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader A/N: I got a little more goofy with R in this one because I wanted to try something a little different with my writing, so I hope y'all enjoy! movie night i | movie night ii | movie night iii

"Hey," your brother Alfie shouted over the music blaring throughout the frat house. "Carpenter's here."

You turned so quickly you spilled the vodka from your cup onto your shirt.

"Ah fuck," you mumbled, dropping the now-empty cup without a care in the world. Not like it was your frat house, why should you keep it clean?

You promptly bent down to pick it back up. Your Ma raised you better than that.

"Where is she?" You asked, once again searching for any sign of the younger Carpenter girl.

"You don't see her?" He was teasing you. It was evident by the stupid, smug look on his ugly mug.

"She's 5 foot nothin’, no I don't see her," you argued back.

“Over there,” Alfie pointed, and you followed his finger as best as you could.

“Where are you pointing your crooked ass finger?” You asked.

“See Frankie?” He asked in frustration. As if it was your fault he had crooked, broken fingers. “She’s talkin’ to him.”

“Ah shit,” you mumbled when you spotted Frankie and, finally, Tara. “Take my cup.”

You didn’t wait for him to agree before shoving the cup into his arms and making your way through the crowded frat house. As much as you wanted to see Tara, you didn’t want to see her with fucking Frankie. No one was worse than that prick. You and Alfie were pricks too, but at least you both stayed respectful. Frankie just wanted to get his rocks off with whatever girl gave him the chance.

Unfortunately, it looked like Tara might be that girl.

He was standing a little too close for comfort by the time you finally shoved your way past everyone. That annoying little voice in your head reminded you that Tara wasn’t yours and you had no right to her. And that voice was correct! But that didn’t mean you were going to stand aside and let fucking Frankie get his greasy hands on her.

“Hey Frankie,” you said with an obnoxious smile and a painfully hard clap on his shoulder. “How ya doin’?”

“Hey,” he said without even looking at you.

“Hi Tara,” you said far softer and with a much more genuine smile. At least you hoped it was, you were starting to feel a bit of that vodka settling in.

Tara opened her mouth to answer before being cut off by Frankie. “Need something?”

Think of something good.

“Yeah, actually,” you said with a shrug, “but we might wanna talk in private.”

“Just tell me now, Street Rat,” he said quickly. “I’m busy.”

Think of something good.

“It’s just,” you sighed, “I wanna make sure you get yourself checked out, man.”

“For what?”

“I was just talking with Skye earlier and she said she got the clap,” you said with a shrug. “I know you two are fuck buddies so you should probably watch out.”

“You serious?” He asked, suddenly standing up and looking far more furious as he crushed his beer in his hand.

“I’m doin’ you a solid, man-”

“-you gonna say this shit in front of Carpenter?” He asked, now standing toe-to-toe with you. Admittedly you may have underestimated his reaction to such a ploy. Should’ve come up with something less good.

“Dude chill, I told you we should talk in private-”

“-didn’t tell me it was about the fucking clap.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be tryin’ to fuck every girl that looks at you.”

You heard the crack below your eye before you felt it, a painful punch spiderwebbing across your cheekbone and eye. Nothing you hadn’t felt before, but Frankie could pack a punch when needed. Tears instantly pricked at your eyes as you recaught your balance and stood up, trying to blink away the pain. And tears. And humiliation.

“Say it again, Street Rat,” Frankie said.

“Hey, that’s enough,” Tara tried to say, doing her best to stand in between the both of you. Not that it mattered, she was too short. It was pretty cute, actually. “Y/N, let’s go.”

Don’t say it.

“You’re a man whore, dude,” you said anyway. He clenched his jaw tighter. “A man whore with the clap.”

You moved Tara out of the way and braced yourself when Frankie lifted his fist again. Thankfully he had dropped the beer can; you could already feel something warm trickling down the side of your face. If he was going to hit you then he needed to do it like a man, not with a weapon. Pop always said only cowards used weapons against unarmed men.

Maybe you should have been a coward.

The punch never came. When you re-opened your eyes, you saw Alfie standing there in between the both of you, creating the buffer Tara had tried and failed to become. His back was to you but you could tell by the square set of his shoulders that he was tense. And pissed. Oh god, he was pissed.

“Go home, Frankie,” Alfie said in his heavy Bronx accent. Like most everyone in the family, it came out more when he was tense. Or angry. Oh, he was angry.

“Not until I get an apology,” Frankie said as he pointed to you. “To my face.”

“Not my fault you’re collectin’ STDs like they’re fuckin’ Pokemon, man,” you said back. Shut up!

“Come here-”

“-enough!” Alfie shouted, pushing you both back. Not that you needed the encouragement, your cheek was still throbbing from the first punch. “Get the fuck out, Frankie.”

“I’ll be back for you, Street Rat,” Frankie said with a finger pointed at you. Like the mature adult you were, you stuck your tongue out at him before giving him your best New Yorker smile.

“Now,” Alfie insinuated with a push on Frankie’s chest, guiding him to the front door.

With one more look at you, Frankie finally made his way out of the frat house, pushing past whoever was unfortunate enough to be in his way. He was barely out of sight before you felt a hard slap against your stomach, forcing you to double over. You felt like you were going to puke. Maybe you would.

“Quit startin’ fights, you moron,” Alfie said as he grabbed your shoulders and stood you up straight again. “I’m gettin’ real tired of defending your sorry ass.”

“Pop always said I was a slow learner,” you said, your own accent coming out just enough to irritate you. With a slight scowl, you focused harder on your words. “I’m sorry.”

“Better be,” he said with a sigh. Finally, he turned his head to look at Tara. “You good, doll?”

“I’m fine,” she said with a shrug.

“Be careful with Frankie,” he continued. “He’s a real prick.”

“He’s a-”

“-not a word from you,” Alfie interrupted you with another slap to the shoulder. “You started this whole mess.”

“Coulda finished it too if you gave me the chance,” you said, rubbing your now sore shoulder and still trying not to puke from the blow to the stomach. Maybe those fireball shots weren’t necessary.

“Would you mind taking our little menace upstairs and cleaning the blood off?” Alfie asked Tara. “I’d appreciate it.”

Tara looked at you at the suggestion, really looked at you. Just that one look from her was enough to have your heart beating out of your chest like a Loony Toons character. Oh what you wouldn’t give to have her look at you all the time, whether in malice or admiration or love. Just to have her eyes on you would be enough to leave you happy and content until the day you died.

“Fine,” she said with a sigh, reaching forward to grab your hand. “Let’s go.”

“Don’t test her,” Alfie whispered to you as Tara pulled you away.

You just wiggled your brows suggestively at him, to which he promptly threw his hands up in defeat.

Tara led you throughout the frat house as if she had lived there her entire life. It was almost amusing to see someone so small moving through the crowd without any trouble, as if people knew there was a child among them and they needed to make sure not to step on it. Wait, maybe you shouldn’t be comparing her to a child. But, come on, she was small enough.

By the time you both managed to stumble up the two flights of stairs to the third floor, you were very much starting to feel the alcohol and the bruise that was blooming across your cheek. It was going to smart, that was for sure. Tara pushed you into Alfie’s room - by pure coincidence, surely - and shut the door behind her, locking it promptly.

“You’re a prick,” she said the moment she turned back around to look at you.

“I was protectin’ you,” you said, taking a deep breath in and exhaling slowly to ease the accent. “Frankie’s a prick and you know it.”

“I didn’t need protecting,” she groaned. “I’m capable of taking care of myself.”

“You wanna get the clap, be my guest,” you said with a shrug.

“Does he really have it?” Tara asked doubtfully.

You closed your mouth and looked off at Alfie’s closet. If you didn’t look at her, maybe she wouldn’t force you to answer. Even with the music pounding through the walls, you heard her sigh. You shouldn’t have lied, that annoying little voice in your head said. Sometimes you hated your subconscious; it was usually right.

Tara’s hand gripping your jaw made you flinch, which then made the throbbing in your cheek resume once again. Say what you wanted about Frankie, but he could pack a punch. Probably would’ve been better to just leave him be. But then Tara pulled your chin to face her, and you were instantly reassured that no, you absolutely should’ve gotten him to leave.

“He cut your cheek,” she said as her eyes left yours to look at the wounds that adorned your face. “Have anything to clean it with?”

“Here,” you said, leaning back just enough to pull your shirt over your head. Tara’s eyes went wide before she did her best to look anywhere but at you.

“Please put your shirt back on,” she said, still not looking at you.

“It’s got vodka on it anyway,” you said as you shoved the shirt into her hands. “Nature’s disinfectant.”

“It-,” she turned to look at you incredulously. “Are you stupid?”

“Depends on who’s asking,” you said with a grin. “Just clean it already, I’m braced.”

Tara shook her head slowly, but grabbed your jaw once again to hold you still. Her hand was soft; incredibly soft, actually. Depending on how she held you, you could almost see that scar of hers. An angry pink that looked like it didn’t really want to finish healing. She probably needed to put some cream on it, maybe you could ask your Ma for a bit of advice.

You hissed when she dabbed the vodka drenched shirt on your cheek. Oh, now you remembered why it wasn’t a good idea. It got the job done, sure, but it hurt like a sonofabitch. But you squared your shoulders and stayed still until she was done dabbing it. Even though it seemed like she was cleaning it a little more forcefully than necessary.

“Does Frankie actually have the clap?” Tara asked again while she finished up.

“Have you slept with him?” You asked in return. She gave you a frown before looking back at your cheek.

“No.”

“Then yes he does,” you said with a nod. “Plus a few others, he’s like a breeding ground for ‘em.”

“You’re disgusting,” she sighed before straightening up.

“Listen, if you wanted to get laid tonight, you could’ve always asked me,” you said with a shrug. You hoped it came off as nonchalant, even though you were totally chalant about it. Was that even a word?

“What makes you think I would want to sleep with you?” Tara asked as she crossed her arms over her chest. It didn’t distract you from noticing the slightest flush to her cheeks.

“Because you think I’m sexy,” you said in a sing-songy voice, “and you wanna kiss me.”

“Anyone ever told you you’re annoying?” She asked.

She did not, however, stop you from reaching out to grab her by the hips and pull her until she was standing between your legs. Even when you were sitting she was barely taller than you. Her arms uncrossed so she could rest her hands on your bare shoulders, causing you to shiver lightly. You were going to blame it on the alcohol.

“You can call me whatever you want,” you said, your eyes darting down to look at her lips. “As long as you call me.”

“This is only because I’m drunk,” Tara said, her own eyes looking at your lips. Bingo.

“Of course,” you said as your thumbs slipped under her shirt and rubbed her hips lightly.

“And if you tell anyone, I’ll kill you,” she continued.

“Naturally," you agree.

The alcohol coursed through you, leaving a heat in its wake. But it was nothing compared to the inferno you felt in your core when Tara practically surged forward to kiss you. She wasted no time parting her lips for you, letting you taste every inch of her. She tasted of cheap beer and lemonade; surprisingly unsurprising.

"Were you smoking?" She asked as she pulled away; you chased her, leaving a trail of kisses across her jaw. "You smell like smoke."

"Which answer gets me laid?" You asked between kisses.

"You're insufferable," she groaned.

She pushed against your shoulders until you fell back against the bed. Almost instantly, she climbed on top of you, straddling your stomach and placing her hands on your ribs. Her nails were short, but still long enough to scratch your skin lightly, sending another shiver through your body. It was a nice feeling. Painfully nice.

“Don’t try to romance me,” Tara said as she looked down at you; her pupils were blown and she looked absolutely beautiful.

“Just a fuck?” You clarified.

“A quick one,” she said with a nod.

“Clothes off?” You asked.

“On,” she corrected.

“Yes ma’am,” you said quickly before letting your hands push under her shirt, nails lightly scratching across her skin until you felt the underwire of her bra.

You waited, watching her to make sure she consented. The alcohol may have been clouding your judgment ever so slightly, but you weren’t Frankie. When Tara looked at you and nodded, you wasted no time in pushing her bra above her breasts. The moment your knuckles brushed against her nipples, her head slowly fell back and she exhaled sharply through her nose.

That inferno in your core only grew hotter when you rolled her nipple between your thumb and forefinger and her hips stuttered against your stomach. Oh it was a beautiful sight, to see Tara lose even the slightest bit of her composure from such a small gesture. You did it again and had to bite your lip to keep yourself from groaning at the movement of her hips.

“Don’t tease,” she said breathlessly, her nails digging deeper into your ribs. A stunning sting that you hoped would leave marks.

“As you wish,” you said in reply.

One of your hands stayed right where it was, brushing lightly against her nipple just to see her shiver. Your other hand moved down, unbuttoning her jeans with surprising ease that you blamed on nothing more than the alcohol. With nothing else in your way, you effortlessly slipped your hand under the waistband of her underwear, letting out a humiliating moan when you felt just how wet she was.

“Jesus, Tara,” you said breathlessly as you ran your fingers through her folds before stopping on her clit.

“Just shut up,” she said between clenched teeth.

It was an uncomfortable position for your hand to be in, though you wouldn’t change it for the world. Your wrist was at an awkward angle, you couldn’t do much, and there wasn’t much room to move. But that didn’t mean much when Tara was doing most of the work for you, rutting her hips against your hand as if you were good for one thing and one thing only.

“Don’t move,” she gasped, confirming your suspicions. You didn’t really care.

“Fuck,” you groaned as you watched her move, her nails finally splitting your skin ever so slightly. It wouldn’t bleed, but there would be red marks for the next few days.

Even though Tara wasn’t touching you, there was something satisfying about watching her get herself off on your fingers. Seeing her eyes squeeze shut and her mouth fall open when she hit just the right spot. Feeling how wet she was and how effortlessly she could rut against your fingers. No shame, no regrets, just the pleasure of the moment.

God it was hot.

You watched her as she came, her hips stuttering, giving you the opportunity to finally help out and rub tight circles on her clit. Just enough to sustain her orgasm for a few seconds more. She exhaled sharply and leaned forward on her hands, pushing deeper into your ribs. It made it a little harder to breathe, but when Tara Carpenter was the cause? Well, you would be happy to just suffocate under her touch.

“God you’re hot,” you said softly, not even sure if she would hear you or not. That was okay; it wasn’t the point.

Her eyes finally opened as she caught some semblance of control over her breathing again. The beautiful brown of her eyes was taken over by her dark pupils, and for a moment, she almost looked like she was smiling down at you. Maybe she was, you certainly wouldn’t bring it up to her. Not at that moment, anyway. But then she blinked a few times and shook her head before removing her weight from her hands, unburdening you from suffocation.

“I suppose you’re not entirely insufferable,” she said as she slowly pushed herself off of you, being a little extra careful as she buttoned her pants.

“You’re gonna leave me high and dry, aren’t you?” You asked when she tossed your shirt back in your face.

“You never clarified you wanted to get laid,” she said with a smirk before walking to the door and leaving the room.

You fell back onto the bed and sighed loudly. Your head was thumping with your pre-hangover migraine, your cheek was still sore, and you had a serious case of blue balls. But the mental image of Tara getting herself off on your hand… well, you supposed that would suffice.

For now.

#tara carpenter x reader #tara x reader #tara carpenter #jenna ortega x reader

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dark-frosted-heart · 6 months

Text

Roger's Wicked Birthday - 1st -

The story's in his POV. As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this

Nsfw. Awkwardly translated smut.

They say that something predestined, something that cannot be changed or avoided, is called fate.

Being born male, female, or otherwise.

Where and when you were born, how long you'll live and when you'll die, all of these seem to be predetermined.

I've always been looking for a way to fight against all of that.

Roger: Hey, Jude. Cut back on those cigarettes. You don't know when those lungs of yours will fail.

Jude: Quit yer yappin'. Are ya my mom or somethin'?

Roger: Don't remember givin' birth to an arrogant, swearing bastard like you.

As I walk away after finishing up Jude's regular check up, my ears pick up the hustle and bustle of the dining room.

Roger: Huh? They're bein' awfully noisy.

As expected, when I entered the dining room, I found Harrison listening to a distraught Liam.

Roger: Hey, what's up? Did somethin' happen?

Liam: Kate isn't back yet so I want to go look for her now.

(The little lady?)

Roger: Calm down... You're not gonna find anything if you run out in the dark.

Harrison: Yeah, Roger's right. You were the last one to see Kate, weren't you Liam?

Liam nods.

Jude: You were supposed ta be watchin' 'er. Why'd ya let 'er go about as she pleases?

Liam: Tomorrow's Roger's birthday so we went out shopping to celebrate in advance. I thought about dressing up a bit and doing some stuff that'll surprise Roger.

Harrison: Liam, I now there's something you don't want to tell us, but now's not the time.

Liam: After we finished shopping, we parted ways near Leadenhall Market. Kate told me to go home first because she wanted to buy something in secret.

Harrison: Where'd you and Kate part?

Liam: At a bakery called "Harmony". Around there.

Harrison: If it's around there then...flowers, huh?

Liam: Flowers?

Harrison: Did she go by herself to get flowers for Roger?

Roger: Me?

Harrison: Yeah. There's a popular flower shop in alley where Liam and Kate parted ways. She probably knew about it.

Jude, who was quiet this whole time, muttered something troubling.

Jude: Tha's right, there's been some strange incidents lately. The naïve princess must've gotten mixed up in it. That woman (the queen) must 'ave some kind of info. Maybe.

Roger: I'll go get Victor...

There's been some kidnappings recently where Kate was now alone.

All those kidnapped were women, and those who were lucky enough to escape only had their hair cut, so it seems like they were kidnapped to sell their hair at a high price.

Based on the information from Victor, it was decided that Crown would search several hideouts of the criminals.

Harry and I ran through the back alleys of London in the dark.

Roger: ...? Hey, Harry. I can hear a man...and the faint voice of a woman through this door.

Harrison: May that's it. Let's go.

The man's voice gets clearer as we head down the path leading to the basement.

Men with guns and knives gathered in the dark.

(I see. So a bunch of thugs were kidnapping people)

Bearded man: After our watch is done, let's go for a drink- Huh, who're you?

In the dim light, Harrison and I exchanged glances. In times like this, a liar and traitor's quick thinking is useful.

Roger: Don't be so guarded. We're your buddies. We thought we'd take part too.

Bearded man: Huh? What're you on about? We'll lose our share with more people.

Harrison: Don't be like that. The police have been sniffing around lately.

Bearded man: The police...?

Harrison: We got contacts in the police. I got info on how to escape them.

Man with a gun: Hey... Wouldn't it be better if we brought them in?

Roger: Oh, we got a right to choose though. Let's hear some details about what you guys are doin'.

Bearded man: It's simple. You kidnap a woman to sell her hair and if she gets out of line, you kill her. That's it.

Man with a gun: In this day and age, a corpse has some value so it's like killing two birds with one stone.

(Yep, these are definitely the guys. Can't mess this-)

(0)

Harrison and I fire at the same time.

Criminal: Guh...

Roger: What's up? You're bein' unusually aggressive Harry.

Harrison: Yeah, wel... Anyway, I'll take care of the rest. You go ahead.

Roger: Yeah, I'm on it. Can't help but hear Kate's voice in my ear. Don't die Harry. Bringing you back will be a pain.

Harrison: Gotcha...

I head into the darkness, the sound of gunfire behind me.

(Multiple female voices...One of them...sounds like Kate)

I thought Kate would be sobbing in fear-

Kate's voice: -ight... It'll be alright. Help will come. It'll be alright...

My ears picked up Kate's voice, who was assuring the other women with her.

Roger: Geez... You're even worryin' over others in a time like this.

I run and run toward the voice, open the door in the dark, and head up the stairs.

Muscular man: Hey, who're you- Gah?!

I shoot and kill the criminals that come at me as I keep going.

(Found her...)

Among the women bound in rope is Kate.

Kate: Roger...

(Why're you trying to smile at a time like this?)

(You're not fooling anyone...)

As I go up to her and cut the rope with a knife, I notice flowers that fell at Kate's feet.

Roger: ...

Seeing them, I impulsively-

I held Kate tight in my arms.

Roger: Are you hurt?

Kate: Nothing serious. Just some scratches...here and there.

It's so like her to not count scratches as injuries.

Roger: I see...

Kate: I was sure...

Roger: Hm?

Kate: I was sure that Crown...that you would come and save me.

Kate knew about my curse as the "treacherous huntsman".

Still, she believed in me and fought against fear and anxiety.

(Damn. You're so cute and brave)

Roger: You're my birthday present, got it? Not letting anyone take you away from me.

Kate: Got it...

Kate's body starts trembling as if finally letting go of all the pent up fear.

I pat her back as if soothing a baby.

Roger: Scary wasn't it...

Kate: Yeah...

Roger: You did your best. You were great.

Kate: ... Roger... I-I...

Kate bawled so loudly that I couldn't help but smile.

After taking care of everything, I brought Kate back to the castle and tended to her wounds.

Kate: O-ow. It hurts...

Roger: It's supposed to hurt. Otherwise this wouldn't be moxibustion.

Kate: I'll accept it...

Maybe because she was still feeling guilty, Kate endures the pain without a fuss.

As I watch her in amusement, a thought appears in the back of my mind.

It's said that those cursed will meet an equally tragic end.

That's a solid conclusion I came to after years of researching curses.

(That's what's supposed to happen to us)

(I wonder what Kate's fate's like)

Kate's a curious woman who's aware of the fact that the world isn't pretty, yet still retains some purity in her heart and eyes.

Even those in Crown with strong personalities seem to be moved by her.

(A miserable fate doesn't suit Kate)

A long life's better than a short one, better to be surrounded by people than alone, and a warm place's better than a cold one.

(The kind of fate that suits someone who's able to smile so peacefully)

It was out of character for me to think of that for Kate who trusts others so easily.

Roger: Alright, done.

Kate: Thank you so much. Sorry for bothering you so late. Then...

Roger: Hey now, who said you could go?

Kate: Huh?

Roger: The treatment's finished, but the punishment isn't, little lady.

I sit down next to Kate on the bed, who makes a sound in her throat.

Kate: Punishment...

Roger: Thinking you'll get an answer right away just by asking's a bad habit of yours. Ask yourself why you're getting punished.

I whisper in her ear as I swipe my thumb across her lips.

Roger: I won't stop until you get it right.

Kate: Um, uh...

Kate jolts when I nibble on her ear before capturing her lips.

Kate: Nn...Roger...

(Soft as ever...)

Roger: Mm...Come one, answer me.

Kate: Because I got hurt...?

Roger: Wrong.

Even after releasing her wrists after kissing her repeatedly, Kate lets me do as I please.

Kate: Nnn... Hm? Ah...

(Hmm, not runninn'? Ahh...you obediently did as you were told)

The way she accepts my kisses while thinking fills me with sadistic desires and I hook my fingertips on the neckline of her dress.

Roger: That's it, think about it.

Kate: You don't need to tell...Ah...

Her breasts spill out as I pull down her dress and my lips are on her.

Roger: Hm? Givin' up?

While licking a nipple, I tease the other with my fingers.

Kate: ! I'm not...

(Ah~ That's a good look. You look so frustrated...like you're about to cry)

Kate: Ah...Is it...because I wandered off on my own?

Roger: Nope.

Kate: Huh...Ah....

I roll the peak in my mouth and Kate lets out a faint gasp.

(I'm disgusted at the thought that other men did that to her...)

I continue to suck and nipple as I slip my fingers in the wetness between Kate's legs.

It was already so wet and like with her nipple, I flicked her bud with a finger.

Kate: Ah...Nngh...Roger...

The moment I saw tears welling up, the irritation I felt within me finally subsided.

Kate: I...give up...

I grab Kate's chin and look at her as she muttered in frustration with tears in her eyes.

Roger: Hey, Kate.

Kate: Yes...?

Roger: I can't stand it when others make you cry. I'm the only one allowed to do that...Right?

Kate: Ye- Huh?

(What......................)

Roger: What's up with that response.

Kate: I just didn't expect it... I'm...not Roger's or anyone else's!

Roger: Then why're you squeezing my fingers so tightly?

Kate: That's because...Ah...I can't...

Roger: I'm not gonna last so let me enjoy your tears for a little longer.

Kate: Ah...wait...Roger

After that, I made Kate cry out a lot before having her finish me with her hand.

Satisfied, I went out for a drink with Jude.

Using my birthday as an excuse, I made him buy me a drink.

(I drank too much last night...)

I was lying on a sofa in the lounge with the aftertaste of alcohol still lingering when I felt a shadow over my face.

Kate: Roger...? Are you dead?

Roger: I am. So what do you want with a dead man? I'm not taking any complaints about last night.

Kate: It's not that. I have something for you.

(...?)

When I sat up, Kate shyly held out a bouquet.

Kate: Happy birthday Roger. Also... Thanks for being born.

Roger: O_O ...

(Wha...)

(Thanks for being born... That's the first time I've heard it since my curse)

(Kate...Only you of all people would say that without any hesitation)

Kate: Roger? Um...I went shopping with someone this time?

Roger: Haha, I know. Thanks...

Kate smiles happily like a puppy.

(Her crying face is the best, but her smile- it suits her)

Her smile's so cute that I can't but want to tease her again.

Roger: Hey, Kate. I must've fallen for you if I'm always thinking about you right?

Kate: Excuse me........ I-I don't know!

Roger: Pfft, hahaha. How cold.

After that, while I was walking with the bouquet Kate gave me, Victor suddenly told me what those flowers meant.

Anemones meant "fleeting love".

Kate probably didn't know what the flowers she gave me meant, but it's ironic.

My fate's a future ruined by guilt.

The worst fate lies before me, but I'm not gonna let it get me down now.

Trampling on fate, I-

Roger: Now, let's fight against it again today.

#ikemen villains #ikevil translations #ikevil summary #roger barel #ikevil roger #ikevil #ikevil jp

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charliedawn · 9 months

Note

Hey, slashers idea.

How would they take of you when you're sick?

Pennywise :

Pennywise would look at you and burst out laughing like there’s no tomorrow. Human suffering is just funny to him for some reason.

Pennywise: "You are sick ?! Now, that’s hilarious !"

The Penny Brothers can’t get sick. At all. So, he’d find it entertaining, especially since they usually never see you so weak.

He’d enjoy it at first, but he’d soon grow worried and try to help you the best he can while pretending he doesn’t care.

Pennywise *pats your back while you sleep* : "…Hey. The nurses said it was serious. Don’t know if it’s true or not, just get better, alright ?"

Pennywise may act like a jerk most of the time, but deep down ? He cares.

Michael Myers :

Michael would try his best to understand how to help you, but would be clueless and would read whatever he can on the subject.

At the end, he would just make sure nobody gets close to your room while you rest and bring you water and soup.

He’d be your bodyguard and make sure the other slashers stay away while you rest—only allowing the doctors in.

He’d also try to check on you and your fever regularly. He’d be holding your hand and give you whatever comfort he can.

No way he’s leaving your side until he’s sure you’re going to be alright.

Bo Sinclair:

Bo: "Now, ain’t ya ‘bsolutely adorable ? All weak and livid. Careful. Heard that people used to die from tiny little colds…"

Bo would tease you, but he’d still make sure you get some rest at the end. He just likes to play with people and get you all worked up. If you react, it means it’s not serious and he doesn’t have to intervene.

However, if he sees that you are really sick ?

He’d gladly grab any doctor in the hospital and make sure they do their job…

Bo: "Can’t ya see it’s bad ?! Whatya standin’ over there like a bunch of daisies for when sunshine’s over there—suffering ?!"

Penny:

Penny would look over you from the shadows and cuddle with you when you want a little comfort during your sick days.

He’d also bring you his favourite games, so you don’t get bored.

However, he knows he doesn’t know anything about coughs and sickness in general. He’d stay at the feet of your bed and hear your breathing.

As long as you’re breathing, he’d stay calm and collected. He’d let the doctors do their jobs and only growl in warning from time to time if he feels that they’re hurting you.

He’d bring you snacks and make sure you don’t get bored while you rest.

Jason:

Jason: "…"

The man would understand, but he wouldn’t have a clue of how to help you.

He’d hug you and hope for the best.

Freddy:

Freddy would take care of your dreams and that you don’t get lost. Sick people often get very wild dreams and can get lost in them sometimes.

You *looking at the sky turning multiple colours and slowly enveloping you* : "…Wow. So pretty."

Freddy *grabs you* : "Whatya doin’ here, sweetheart ? Shouldn’t be out there on your own, buddy. Come on. Back in the world of the living we go."

He’d make sure your mind stays afloat, because even though he loves chaos and would love seeing you completely lose it…He’d lose something more important. He’d lose you.

Jack Torrance:

You: "I’m not sick…"

Him *looks you up and down* : "Yeah. And am not dead. Now, get back to bed."

No bullshit policy. You’re sick, you’re sick. He’d drag you back to bed if he has to—because he knows first hand that life is short and death comes quickly.

Jack would also bring you pills to sleep and get better. He may be a ghost, but he’s already been sick when he was alive.

He may be the one who can help you the best.

Brahms:

Brahms would take care of you. He’d bring you breakfast in bed and make sure you get some good rest.

Also, he’s wall boy. He’d watch over you at night and make sure you don’t overwork yourself.

However, he’d also cuddle with you at night and not let you go anywhere without him. He’d get clingy and would follow you to the kitchen or the bathroom.

And don’t even try to get away.

Brahms *appears behind you after you woke up to get a glass of water* : "Go…Back to…Bed."

#fandoms #imagine #fanfic #pennywise 2017 #pennywise 1990 #slashers #pennywise x reader #michael myers x reader #freddy krueger x reader #jason voorhees x reader #brahms x reader #bo sinclair x reader #jack torrance x reader

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chaotic-mystery · 1 year

Note

You’re DBF vs. BFD comparison now has me feigning over almost getting caught

(A/N: disrespectfully I would do anything to almost get caught with dbf! Joel)

Moaning and panting echoed from the kitchen, spilling into the empty rooms around the house. Your face was cheek down against the cold kitchen counter, your panties around your ankles. “I missed you so much baby” his words muffled against your back as he buried himself deeper inside. “Fuck, darlin I can feel you squeezin’ my cock. Did ya miss how hard I fuck you, hm? Miss how good I make you feel, baby?” He let out a low groan as he stood up and wrapped an arm around your waist and slid his hand down.

You whimpered and squirmed under him as he played with your clit, begging him for more through gritted teeth. “You like that baby doll? Like when play with that pretty lil pussy when I fuck you?” He pulls your shoulders back to stand you up and turn you around as he lifts one of your legs up, repositioning himself at your entrance. He slips in and he moans your name with a slew of curse words following.

“I wanna see that gorgeous face when you cum for me sweetheart. I wanna see how I break you” he muttered before pressing his lips against yours, maneuvering his tongue into your mouth. He let your face go after a few more sloppy kisses and you laid back against the counter, your lower back arching perfectly with the curve of the ledge. He pushed your shirt up completely and exposed your breasts, running his hand all over you and your nipples. Joel pinched the hard buds and you giggled softly, eyes closed in pure bliss. You reached out and dragged your nails down his chest, whimpering and wanting more. “Joel, I missed you so badly. H-harder please I want you to ruin me.” he squeezed the pillowy breast in his hand as he thrusted harder into you, when suddenly you both heard the back door opening to the house. “Honey? Ya still here?” Your dad called out down the hallway. “Y-yeah I’m in the kitchen!” Your voice was shaky as you tried to collect yourself.

He quickly took you off the counter and pulled his pants up, your shorts not getting buttoned as your dads footsteps got closer. You turned to your now cold dishwater where you originally were before Joel came in and started fondling you.

Joel sat on the stool you were just getting fucked on, when your dad came in dripping in sweat and covered in grass. “Joel, buddy the hell you doin here?” Your dad chuckled and shook Joel by his shoulder. “Jus’ in the neighborhood thought I’d come see what you were up to, but you were out mowin, figured I’d wait til you were done” you rinsed off a plate and set it in the strainer, fighting a smile because you knew the real reason why Joel didn’t go see him out back. He was too busy getting his cock sucked, you thought to yourself. “Well I hope she was bein a good host to ya at least!” Your dad joked as Joel nodded, “Oh she was, don’t worry.” You dropped a coffee mug in the strainer and turned to the men behind your back, making some stupid joke about it being slippery. “Let me go wash up and then we can talk, give me ‘bout 15 minutes, k?” Joel patted his back with a grin and your dad went upstairs, you instantly looked at Joel.

The water to the shower turned on and Joel patted his lap, hooking his thumb on his belt buckle. “Come ’ere baby, let me finish what I started. I’ve got 14 minutes now.”

#joel miller #dbf!joel #joel miller smut #the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel tlou #joel miller drabble #pedro pascal #dbf joel miller x f reader #dbf joel blurb #dbf! joel smut #dbf joel miller

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dindjiarin · 2 years

Text

Hell of a View - Rooster x Reader (Nickname Ginger)

This fic is the result of being unbelievably down bad for Lieutenant Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw.

DISCLAIMER: This is only my second finished fanfic, and the first one I've ever published.

Title inspired by Hell of a View - Eric Church and credit goes to @patheticallydimwiiitted for the song rec/bonkin'-in-the-Bronco suggestion.

Don't copy my shit, plz. Not that it's amazing but like, honor code, guys.

WARNINGS: 18+ SMUT (more like sweet smut though), fluff, sexual harrassment/assault references, blood, Rooster punches a douchebag.

WORD COUNT: 5,750

Your skirt flares as you turn to grab the dirty glasses from the bar. As you spin, you feel the breeze from the front door opening. A tall, dark-haired man is walking in toward the bar.

“What can I get you?” You ask, immediately regretting having spoken as you recognize the man.

“Well, hello, Ginger. Look at you still serving us boys- I figured you’d have been snapped up by now.” He taunts, a hungry look in his eyes at his recognition of you. You’re incensed to hear your favorite nickname come from that mouth once more. It had been given to you by some regular bar patrons after a particularly unfortunate box dye incident, and this man did not deserve to speak it.

Your heart stutters for a second, and anxiety rises in your throat. After three years, the man who harassed you has returned from deployment. You hate confrontation, especially at work. It’s not the best character flaw to have when you work in a Navy bar, but it’s you.

“You were banned, Jekyll. You’ve been banned for a while now.” It’s said quietly, but you hope it’s forceful enough. In your peripheral vision you see a man’s head turn sharply at your words. He’s behind Jekyll to the left, seated at the piano, yet no longer tinkling random keys. The bar was relatively empty for a Thursday night and the same few songs kept being selected by one blonde man playing pool with a few buddies. Some 70s rock song was whining from the jukebox.

“That’s the thing - it has been a while. I’m not the same,” he insists. “Anyway, someone told me this place lifts bans after a year.”

“Listen, I don’t know who told you that but they were wrong.”

The brunette man steps closer to the bar. “I’m sure Penny wouldn’t mind me being here for just one visit. I don’t think you truly mind, either.” His smile is leering. He’s trying to unnerve you. Unfortunately, it’s working. Your mind tumbles back to the feel of his rough hands grabbing your ass like he was trying to leave bruises, his gin-scented words whispered in your face as he pressed you into the wall behind the bar that night. He had taken and dropped the trash bag you’d been holding (“This is no job for a pretty girl”) and held your hands above your head. Once your mind had unfrozen, you managed to knee him and dash inside. He had been after you for weeks at that point. Penny banned him immediately. For good.

“I do mind. You need to go.” You say a little firmer. The glass in your hand is shaking from the memory. The left window behind Jekyll darkens as the silhouette of a man rises.

“C’mon, swee-” Jekyll starts to say. A hand lands on his right shoulder.

“She said get out, man,” the auburn-haired pianist states. He briefly scratches the corner of his mustache with his other hand - as if he couldn’t be more relaxed.

Jekyll spins. “What the fuck? Lieutenant Bradshaw?” He laughs, seemingly genuinely pleased to see the man, “Hey, man, how ya doin’?” Then his tone shifts to one a little more antagonizing, “You ain’t been in town for years- you really think you have a say in this, ol’ Rooster boy?”

“Nope. She does, though.” Rooster is so calm, it starts to soothe you, too. You recognize the man who always thanked you after every drink with a “ma’am” despite telling him multiple times to call you ‘Ginger.’ Sometimes when you’d hand him his drink your fingers would touch. He was always warm. Always laughing, singing with anyone. You’d had a serious crush on him since you first saw him. Now, the scars on his neck and chin are illuminated by the sun’s reflection on the bar. His eyes are hard.

“You’re leaving.” You affirm to the other man with the most confidence you’ve felt yet. You set the glass down and begin to walk around the bar.

“You’re being ridiculous. You’re kicking me out because, what, I fuckin’ complimented you years ago?” He scoffs.

Your steps falter for a second at his callous disregard of his own actions, but you reach the front door and throw it open. Rooster’s eyes look up from your feet and you make eye contact - he had noticed. For a second, you feel self-conscious under his gaze.

Jekyll snaps you out of it. “You’re not even giving me a chance. What a bitch. Stuck up cun-” He doesn’t get to finish the vitriol as his jaw is snapped sideways by the punch. Teeth clack together and a grunt issues forth. Rooster shakes his right hand out once. His lip is curled in a snarl; his eyes flash at the other pilot. You feel your mouth drop open in shock.

Jekyll stumbles - away from Rooster and, unfortunately, toward you - and nearly falls before righting himself. He’s far too close now.

“What the fuck, man!” He shouts. The entire bar is silent. “I said, what the fuck, Bradshaw?”

No one says anything. You’re frozen once again as Jekyll looms a couple feet from you. At least you had the benefit of the bar before. Nothing separates you from the anger of the man who now towers over you. His head jerks to you. You’re the easier target.

“This is your fault,” he snatches at your arm, but Rooster is there. He shoves the angry man out the door.

“You know the rules,” Lieutenant Bradshaw laughs roughly, “‘No disrespecting a lady.' C’mon, let’s go, dickhead.” He isn’t suggesting Jekyll go outside alone; it’s a challenge. Rooster stalks out the door after the man into golden-hour light. Your mind spins as you can only watch. The image of Rooster Bradshaw, Hawaiian shirt askew, his knuckles bloody, his hair aflame with the sun, stuns you briefly - and it's a hell of a view.

“You can’t just fucking grab her, and you won’t touch her again. You won’t come back,” Lieutenant Bradshaw orders. “Are you clear on that, Jekyll? I can make it clearer.”

“You’re a fuckin’ pussy. You’re gonna take her side? You’ve known me since A School, man. All this over a four?” Jekyll shouts, insulting you again.

Rooster takes three powerful strides until he’s in Jekyll’s face but he says nothing. Jekyll’s jaw visibly clenches as if deciding something.

He makes the decision.

His left fist slams into Rooster’s stomach; but Rooster was prepared for a low blow, so he hardly bends forward at the pain. However, Jekyll’s right fist lands on the side of Lieutenant Bradshaw’s face, and Rooster staggers sideways two steps. Both men are six-foot-nothing and well-built, but Bradshaw has a stronger emotion than anger on his side. His left hand grabs Jekyll’s shoulder and his right slams into the center of the smaller man’s face once, twice. Jekyll stumbles away again, falling this time to his knees, but he staggers to his feet quicker than you like. His eyes are livid, his mouth and nose full of blood.

Rooster stares him down, a drop of his own blood on the left side of his mouth. His hands are balled and he breathes heavily in anger, facing the sunset.

“I do not understand your problem here, man,” the banned pilot shouts.

“You don’t need to,” Rooster answers. “You just need to fucking leave.” Rooster straightens his tall frame, and repositions himself so that he’s blocking the entrance to the bar.

“Know when you're beat, man,” he warns as Jekyll starts toward him, but then a man pushes brushes past you, then another, then a third. The other Hard Deck patrons have seen enough and two of them pull Jekyll away. One man stands in front of the Lieutenant, defusing. Rooster nods once, then deadpans: “Hilarious coming from you, Hangman.” He then turns around to face the building - and you.

His eyes meet yours, and you’re sure you look terrified. Fights aren’t totally uncommon at the Hard Deck, but fights in which you’re the topic of debate certainly are. Could you lose your job for not stopping the fight? No, surely not. Would Lieutenant Bradshaw get in trouble? Probably, the Navy didn’t appreciate fights between servicemen. It was nice of Rooster to kick Jekyll out, but to continue the fight? How could he have taken that so personally?

“I’m sorry about that,” you apologize as he nears you, though you did nothing wrong. “I- I never expected him to come back here.”

“‘s’not your fault he’s a fuckin’ dick.” He smirks, his mustache quirking up at the corner. He works his jaw around, testing to see if it was truly damaged. His sweat glistens on his forehead, across the small bit of chest visible in the brilliant light; the veins in his neck are pulsing. You notice his Hawaiian shirt is skill askew and the white undershirt has taken a drop of blood from his mouth.

“Let me help,” you hear yourself say; your stomach knots. The adrenaline is wearing off and you’re worried about what to say to the intimidatingly beautiful man who just took two punches - For me? You wonder. You start walking into the rear of the Hard Deck. His slow, sure footsteps echo behind you as you step into the cleaning closet and grab a first aid kit. Then into the kitchen for some ice. When you reutrn, he’s seated at a table in the corner. He’s facing you and he looks oddly satisfied, you think. A strangled giggle leaves your mouth at the absurdity of the situation.

“What?” He asks. “You alright?” When you don’t reply, he continues, “That bastard owes the whole bar a round, but I think he owes you a lot more, honey.”

You smile softly at the concern, but your heart thuds with his use of the pet name. “Yeah, no, I’m fine.” You debate telling him why Jekyll upset you so easily. You want to open up to him, to explain why you were so shaken when that asshole walked into the Hard Deck. Plus, why should you be ashamed of what Jekyll did all those years ago? That was on him, not you. So, you tell him the short version.

“A few years ago, he tried to- well, he grabbed- he kind of- touched me.” You finish lamely, partially second-guessing your decision to tell him such an uncomfortable thing.

He’s silent for a moment, his jaw clenching. “Son of a bitch,” he mutters. The veins in his tanned neck are visible again and your mouth is dry. “If I’d known that I’d’ve kept goin’,” he snorts.

“No, I’m really grateful for your help, but I’m glad you weren’t more seriously hurt,” you say, staring at the small cut on his cheekbone. It ran parallel to one of his other scars. How had he gotten those? The one on his neck looked downright inviting. You shamelessly let your eyes drink him in.

“Mmm, you don’t think I could’ve taken him?” He teases, examining his hand.

“Oh,” you breathe, “I think you could take just about anything.” You weren’t just thinking about fighting anymore, and it resonated in your voice. You bite your lip to prevent further embarrassment spilling from you.

Rooster hears the want in your voice. He's been waiting to hear it. His hooded eyes look up at you through dark lashes and he challenges, “You think you could take anything?” His voice is husky, suggestive.

He lifts up his right hand and you wildly think for a moment he’s going to grab your waist, but then you realize it’s for the bandage you’re holding. You take his hand in your own and carefully wrap the bloodied knuckles with gauze, remembering the times you’d accidentally touched his fingers. You had been right, he was warm. Being close enough to touch him, you smell the sea salt and sweat on him. It shouldn’t be as pleasing as it is. You can feel his eyes on your face, though you keep your own on the gauze. You’re working slowly because you don’t want the moment to end, and you’re afraid of what happens when it does. Your hands tremble, but his are steady. Then, inevitably, you tie the gauze. Your eyes flick up to meet his.

His pupils are blown, the deep honey color of his irises ringing the space you’re falling into. Your stomach drops, leaving you feeling untethered. His mouth opens, his tongue flicking across his lips to wet them absentmindedly. The movement brushes his mustache briefly and you want to do the very same.

“How long is your shift?” he asks, breaking the silence. His dark eyes commanding your attention.

“I close,” you breathe out ruefully, frowning.

“Aw, well that’s a shame, sweetheart.” He drawls, waiting for another answer.

“I’m off tomorrow?” You’re unsure why you phrase it as a question.

His face cracks into a smile that would break your heart if it didn’t send you soaring instead. “How do you feel about flying?”

“Flying?” You’re taken aback. You’ve not been on an airplane in years; the last trip had you kissing the ground upon arrival, but you’re not totally opposed to the idea - especially if your pilot was the best the Navy had to offer.

“Sure,” he answers, “Mav’s got this two-seater we’ve been working on. I think it’s ready for a go.”

You only know who “Mav” is because Penny’s been flirting with him at the bar for the past month or two. Though you had noticed him watching Rooster play and sing, the connection between the two hadn’t been obvious.

Not wanting to give in too easily, you tease him, “Hmm, could be fun. But I think it depends.”

His eyebrow quirks, “Depends on what?” The chair creaks under his weight as he sits up straight, ready for your stipulations. He’s so tall that even while sitting he’s eye-level with you.

“On who will be piloting.”

His jaw drops, his hand goes to his chest in mock-offense. “Wow. Just cut me to my core, huh?” His smirk returns, “Alright, fine, offer revoked.” Your mouth drops open to backpedal but he continues to tease, “How ‘bout a drive then? That safe enough for you, ma’am?”

Though truthfully you absolutely trusted him as a pilot, the image of him in his baby-blue Bronco speeding down PCH, the Hawaiian shirt he’d undoubtedly wear blowing in the breeze, was too appealing. You tilt your chin up and answer in a voice you hope sounds seductive, “I think that’d be acceptable, Lieutenant.”

What neither of you were expecting was his body’s reaction to your use of his title. His eyebrows shoot upward in surprise, his back stiffens. He attempts to subtly shift his hips in an attempt to adjust himself, but he knows you saw. That godforsaken, smug smile, crowned by that retro mustache, returns as he murmurs, “Looks like you better save that for later, darlin’.” He then stands and you’re nearly touching his chest. He slowly steps around you and asks, “Ginger, be here tomorrow for me?”

____________________________________________________

Since Rooster never specified a time, you show up at the Hard Deck the next day at opening. It’s mid-day and the sun is baking down. You’d take the dry Californian heat over the humidity of the South you grew up in any day. There was a breeze from the ocean which pushed at the bottom of your blue sundress. Sitting down at one of the outside tables, you pull a book from your bag. And if he decided not to come, this wasn’t far from how you’d spend a day off, anyway.

An hour later, the sun had conquered the shade in which you’d been sitting, so you head inside. Penny is at the bar with Maverick. They smile at you and Penny asks, “So where you guys headed today?”

“I actually have no idea. I don’t even know if he’ll be here for sure.”

“Oh, he’s comin’.” Maverick laughs, smiling fondly.

Smiling in response, you ask, “What makes you so sure, sir?”

The older man takes a sip of his whiskey and says, “You haven’t noticed? Kid doesn’t take his eyes off you. Most of those piano performances are to get your attention.” He laughs again, shaking his head. “He got that from his daddy.” There’s tenderness in his voice, but you’re unsure why.

Penny looks at you with a knowing smile on her face - you’d confessed your own crush to her a week ago. It had been a literal confession; she’d caught you paying for his drink without his knowledge. She opens her mouth to say something teasing, but the sound of a vehicle pulling up outside fills the quiet seaside air. Worrying about the teasing the two of you would get if he came inside right now, you smile a goodbye at the couple and rush out the door.

Closing his Bronco door is exactly what you’d pictured the day before: Bradley Bradshaw in a tan Hawaiian shirt and board shorts that show off his long, muscled legs. You’re standing there, hands clasped out of anxiety, as he sees you. His eyes meet yours, but they shamelessly trail down your chest and over your dress. He leans sideways against his truck.

“Blue’s my favorite color, y’know,” he grins.

Suddenly you realize you match his truck, and you laugh, “I hope you don’t think I chose the color of my outfit to impress you.” You step a little closer.

“The color is not what’s impressing me,” he blurts, then tries to gloss over it: “You’re ready to go?”

“Yes, sir, I am.”

It wasn’t an attempt to fluster him, that word was part of your daily vocabulary, but again his cheeks blush and his right hand moves to his waistband, adjusting his bottoms. He clears his throat. You’re confused at his reaction; doesn’t he call you “ma’am” just about every day? He gives you a look you don’t quite get, and he walks around to the passenger door.

Opening the door for you with his right, he holds out his left forearm for you to grab while you climb up into the car. “Ma’am,” he instructs, proving you were right to be confused.

Deciding that touching him right now would be in detriment to your own self-control, you grab the handle and hop up in the seat before he can assist.

He shakes his head and teases, “Independent, huh?”

“Maybe,” you retort. The door shuts and you watch him as he goes around the hood to his own door. He’s so mesmerizing even just walking. His shoulders roll; he struts. It’s the kind of quiet confidence that strikes you in your core; you’re a little embarrassed as your body responds to something so small. He hasn’t even touched me, you chastise yourself, stop it.

He doesn’t need to jump into the car, his long legs equipped for the job. He turns to you, taking in the sight of you in his passenger seat finally. His mouth quirks into that breathtakingly smug half-smile and you flush with heat. He pops on his dad’s Ray Bans and says, “Alright, baby, let’s go.”

____________________________________________________

“So, where are we going?” You query. The windows are partially down as Rooster rushes along the Pacific Coast Highway. His speed surprises you; you’re not worried about your safety, but you were thinking it would be a lazy drive and it’s clear he’s distracted.

“There’s a hidden spit of beach less than an hour from town - rock piles on both sides. Not a lot of people know about it, and it’s one of my favorite places to think, to breathe.” He answers, glancing at your reaction to the openness of that statement.

Since he seems willing, you ask him, “What do you go there to think about?” Your head tilts a little, a lock of your long, brown curls rolling into your face. He notices, debating whether or not that kind of touch is too soon. You move the hair away before he decides, so he answers your question instead, his eyes on the road.

“Whatever is happening,” he chuckles. “There’s always something.” Then he adds, “We’re nearly there.”

Okay, so maybe not that open. You wait for a moment to see if he’ll say more, but he doesn’t.

You tease, “Ah, well, that’s fascinating. You’re taking me out here to think with you? It’s hard to use that brain without a little help, huh?”

His head tilts back as he laughs. “Corny. C’mon, you can do better than that.”

“It made you laugh. That was its job.”

He glances over at you again, this time with a mischievous look.

“My brain works just fine, thanks. Can’t say much for yours,” he jokes. “Coming out here with a man you barely know? Not very smart, darlin’.”

You’re torn for a second - obviously, you trust this man with your life, otherwise you wouldn’t be sitting in his truck, but you can’t help but briefly question: was he making fun of your naivety? Your experience with Jekyll? It doesn’t occur to you that he doesn’t know the details enough to poke fun at you. Your brow furrows for a second, unsure how to process the joke. Your silence makes him uncomfortable. The Bronco slows as he turns onto a sandy side road then stops a few hundred yards from the main road.

His seat squeaks as he turns toward you; Rooster backpedals, “Hey, you can trust me,” his eyes bore into yours, begging. “Shitty joke.”

His eyes are alight with concern, his eyebrows knit together. Rooster mentally berated himself. He’d been incredibly turned on by your outfit, your teasing - more than he expected to be. The entire drive he had spent vacillating between kissing you or waiting, not wanting to screw this up. He’d meant to come across as flirty, but he’d stuck his foot in his mouth instead.

“Oh. No, you’re fine,” you realize the simple miscommunication. “I just misconstrued that.”

“No, I’m sorry. Really shitty joke. That won’t happen again.” He promises, knowing he’ll keep it. He reaches for your hand, truly apologetic. Your core sparks up as his calloused hand takes yours. You watch, stunned by the feeling of him twining and untwining your fingers with his own. Still trying to read your expressions, he waits.

You look up and the light in your core ignites into a fireball as you recognize the look in his eyes. Instead of speaking your forgiveness aloud, you place your free hand on his cheek, your thumb caressing his scars. His eyes close blissfully; his mustache tickling your palm as he tilts his head into your hand. It’s the most vulnerable you’ve ever seen a man.

You both let the moment deepen, and his eyes open slowly, pure desire written in them. He leans in further, and you’re frozen in your seat, hand still holding his cheek. His free hand smooths across your cheek and into your hair. He’s so close you can feel his breath, and your lips part to breathe him in. Your other hand fulfills a wish you’ve had for weeks: you touch the side of his neck, and it’s a dangerous move. His pulse is racing, skin heated like the sand outside. Your thumb brushes over his Adam’s apple and he swallows.

Involuntarily, you moan, “Oh,” and he’s done.

He nearly crushes his pouting lips to yours, parting your lips further, and you let his wide tongue dip into your mouth. It feels so good to let him in; you want nothing more than the feeling of him everywhere. The warmth sparks down into your thighs, your stomach. The hand in your hair pulls you in further, deeper. His kiss becomes desperate. Your left hand cups his jaw while the other drops weakly into your lap. When your lips gap in between kisses, a low sound escapes him, sending another wave of electricity through you. His left hand moves to your throat, feeling the soft skin, and he drinks in the soft moan you make.

He breaks the kiss and looks down with lidded-eyes, about to ask you if you’re okay, when you smile up at him. His eyes glance down at your lips again and you can’t take it anymore: you push out of your seat and climb onto him.

Rooster smiles so widely, you almost cry. You kiss him again, deeper, still deeper, as he continues to make those noises that only he could. His mustache tickles and burns in a way you’d never thought you'd love so much. Your thighs enjoy the feeling of his hands, his thick arms holding you up. God, you’re glad you wore a dress. He’s holding you off of his lap, though, he won’t let you feel him, yet. Your hands work to slip his unbuttoned shirt off, but he’d have to drop his hold to do so. The noises you make probably sound desperate but you don’t care. His biceps flex as he breaks the kiss again, this time to see your face as he lowers you onto his tented shorts.

The sound that leaves your lips is a cry of relief at the friction, unstoppable. His dick is already hard as steel, and though the shorts prevent any further study, you cry out at the feeling against your swollen self. Without any thought, you grind your hips against him slowly.

“That’s it, baby,” he groans, lips against your cheek. His mustache sends a tingling sensation across your face and neck. Enjoying the feeling of your body as his fingers stroke your exposed thighs, he tilts his head back, which gives you access to his neck. You can’t stop yourself from dropping to lick and kiss him there, biting gently. He goes nearly weak beneath you. You remember your task of removing his shirt, and you all-but rip it off him. His white undershirt, though covering his chest, leaves none of the muscles in his arms to the imagination. You trail your fingers down his shoulder and bicep, momentarily stunned by them.

He laughs, “You alright, sweetheart?”

“You’re kinda hotter than me,” you let slip.

His face falls; he looks hurt. “Are you being serious?” Unsure how to answer that, and upset you might’ve ruined the moment, you grimace. “Holy shit,” he argues, “This isn’t the most intellectual thing I could say because most of the blood is not in my brain right now, but I’m in the Hard Deck almost every day. I love that place, but I don’t need to see it everyday. You, however, I do. I’ve had to - you know - take care of myself more than once after leaving your bar,” he admits. “And shit, that sounds creepy, but I promise, I-”

You cut him off with a kiss, apologetic that you let that intrusive thought out. Then your hand moves to his shorts. Under your lips, a hitched moan echoes as you unfasten them and slip your hand inside. Your lips part and you look up into his eyes as you feel the sheer size of him. Slowly, your hand strokes along him. His eyes close in pleasure and he mutters, “Fuck.” That word sends your body into a frenzy: you need him.

“Please,” you whimper. His grip on your hips tightens. Then, remembering, you beg, “Please, Lieutenant.”

His eyes shoot open, utterly black in his lust. His hips swell upward in response.

Again you push him, “Please, Lieutenant Bradshaw,” and you’re rewarded by the feeling of his dick twitching, straining in your hand still inside his shorts.

He takes you into his arms again, lifting you off his lap. You cry out in protest, but he throws open his door. With your legs wrapped around him, and his arms holding your ass, he gets out and walks to the back of his truck. He sets you carefully on the tailgate, stepping back, and you laugh as you realize the truck bed is filled with blankets.

“This wasn’t exactly my plan, I promise.” His boyish grin devastates your heart.

“You had a plan?” You ask playfully. You reach for his hand and pull him back to you, unable to stop touching him. His arm snakes around your back and he lays you down slowly, his hot mouth on yours.

Though you can’t see it, somewhere nearby is the shoreline, you hear the crash of the waves and the call of seagulls. The sun beats down, but the breeze from the ocean chases away most of the heat. You’re warmed now by the golden body of the man above you. Rooster’s thigh splits your legs open, his knee edging your legs even further apart. You giggle, and he grins once more. You pull his white tank top over his head, and your heart stops for a moment as the planes of his hard chest, his abdominal muscles are revealed to you. You had no idea he was this ripped.

He laughs at your reaction and whispers, “Your turn, baby.” His hand skates underneath your dress, up your thigh, savoring your expressions at the feeling. Then he reaches your hip, and his eyes go wide as his hand finds no cloth to remove.

“I had a plan,” you tease. As you speak, your hands push his waistband down. “One I’ve been thinking of every single day since you walked into the bar. I wanted you so badly, Lieutenant.”

His shorts now below his ass, you start to take him into your hands again but he thrusts against you. His biceps frame your head as he ruts along you, and the cry you make dies with the breeze. His moaning mouth goes to your neck, leaving marks from both lips and teeth. He’s almost feral with want. He sloppily kisses the hollow of your throat, then down across to the neckline of your dress.

“Need this gone,” he orders.

“Yes, sir,” you start to obey, but before you can even touch the material, his arms flex as he tears your thin dress in two.

You gasp in pleasure as his tongue makes its way through the valley between your breasts, his mustache sweeping. The two of you are totally bare to each other, and you’d have it no other way. He thrusts against you again, leaving you gasping. His tongue enters your mouth with an aggressiveness you can’t help but wilt beneath. The feeling is sensational combined with the contact of his skin on your own; like you’re opening every part of yourself to him. But you know that’s not fully true yet, so you hook your calves around his thighs. Your arms cling around his neck, and you hear yourself moan, “Bradley, please.”

“I’ll give it to you, sweetheart.” He tilts his head back to look into your eyes. “I need you to look at me, okay?” You see the admiration and the lust filling them as you feel him push into you. The moans from both of you mingle in the salty air. The feeling of him inside you is nearly unbearable.

“Oh, my god,” you cry out. He fills you so well. You’re gasping again, “You’re-”

He silences you with another deep kiss. His thrusts come hard, but slowly at first. But he’s starving and the sound of his hips slapping your thighs turns both of you on even more. He’s hitting you in a place you weren’t sure existed, building the tension in your body with every push. He leans into your ear, keeping his rhythm, and murmurs, “You drive me crazy. Always. Those low-cut tank tops, your tight shorts,” he sounds like he’s losing control. “You know what you’re doing.” He licks your throat and continues, “You’re mine, darlin’. You’re done for now.”

His words undo the knot in your core, and your body shudders around him. He smiles and says, “That’s my girl.” But he doesn’t lessen his pace. He thrusts faster, needing to claim you fully.

Your body still shaking, you gather the presence of mind to breathe in his ear, “I want to be yours.”

And he comes apart, his hips stutter, the powerful feeling of release shocking through him. He buries one final push as he lets go, and he leans his head on your shoulder, panting.

___________________________________________________

The deepening blue, Southern California sky expands above you. Twilight is approaching and the late hour casts its honeyed light. The breeze whistles softly as Bradley twirls a strand of your hair between his fingers. You lay next to him, head on a pillow, your right arm across his bare body. Your fingers trail the lines of his muscular chest until he disappears under the blanket he’d brought. You briefly wonder what you'll wear home now that your dress is mangled; you smile as you decide to steal his Hawaiian shirt.

“I really did not intend for that to happen. I wanted to do it right with you.” He eventually says, his eyes following a cloud.

“Oh.” You wonder if he’s regretting having moved so quickly. “I’m sorry.”

He shifts to look at you. “No, I just wanted you to know I wasn’t- I didn’t want to just-” He raises his hands in suggestion and makes a face like you know what I mean. He explains, “I mean that I wanted this to be real. A real date. Not a one-time-thing.” He pauses, searching your face, “If you feel the same.”

Reassured, you tease him, wanting him to say it outright, “If I feel the same as what, sir?” You look up at him innocently.

He huffs a laugh, now knowing your game but playing along anyway. His voice starts dangerously low, intentionally sexy, “The same as how you make me feel, honey. Like the world doesn’t matter as long as you’re nearby.” His voice changes slightly into a confessional, “I feel home when I see you, and yeah, maybe that’s crazy -” He trails off, his eyes dance between yours, trying to read you, wondering if he said too much too soon.

“I would say that’s crazy - if it were anyone else. But with you…” You reach up to brush your fingertips along his cheeks, his chin. You pull him down for a kiss, pure sweetness in it, willing him to feel your emotions. “With you, Lieutenant Bradshaw, I’ll never have enough of you.”

“Holy shit, you’re it for me.” He beams, pulling you on top of him.

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