#that is if they ever fucking put it on the truck today at all

[swagging-back-to]

it's now 10am and it still isnt on the road.

it takes like an hour to get to my town from auburn but bc of ups's route it takes 6-8 hours to reach me.

so i wont be getting it until like 7 tonight. IF I'm lucky.

#that is if they ever fucking put it on the truck today at all #wouldnt surprise me if they didnt and then I had to wait till Monday to get rotten and frozen fruits #whhy does ups always do this #they never send the trucks out until like 2pm in the afternoon and then the drivers are delivering at literally 8 or 9 pm #it's happened the last few times my roommates ordered stuff

[dixonsdolls]

CLOSER | DARYL DIXON

SYNOPSIS ❥ On the road, you can’t seem to focus on anything other than wanting Daryl to fuck you senseless. Because he’s such a good boyfriend, you get what you want.

Pairing ❥ Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Content warnings ❥ 18+ content (MDNI), porn without plot, creampie, unprotected p in v, oral (daryl receiving!), dirty talk, car sex, basically reader being feral (like we all are)

Word Count ❥ 2.3k

A/N ❥ hi my loves!! long time no see, i know </3 been busy with stuff irl but i wanted to get this piece out for you all as a thank you for hitting 100 followers! it means the world to me <3 hope y’all enjoy this, im squeezing my legs as we speak bc whew. and also, the picture is purely there to generate imagery, there are no descriptions of the reader! xoxo, sammy

— ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆

“You let me violate you

You let me desecrate you

You let me penetrate you

You let me complicate you

…

I wanna fuck you like an animal

I wanna feel you from the inside

I wanna fuck you like an animal”

Closer by Nine Inch Nails

— ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

“What?”

His gruff voice spooked you from your lustful haze, where you’d been glancing over at Daryl every couple seconds. You shook your head in a fruitless attempt to clear your sinful thoughts, before meeting his eyes.

“Hmm?” You spoke softly, it was all you could do in your state. Oh, how you wanted him to pull over and let you have your way with him.

“Been starin’ at me since we got in the car. Do I got somethin’ on my face or what?” Daryl sounded annoyed, but you knew him better to just be deeply confused by your actions. You couldn’t exactly blame him, it’d been over twenty minutes and you’d barely spoken since you both had left for a supply run.

But you couldn’t help it. With your panties soaked, slit slippery and clit throbbing in neglect, you were desperately trying to act normal.

Clearly, you’d failed.

It was Daryl’s fault; you’d been fine until you saw him leant against a porch pillar, lighting up a cigarette. You couldn’t explain it because you’d seen him smoke before, but something about the way he looked then had your thighs squeezing, breath catching.

He was busy talking to Rick, blowing smoke as he spoke intently. His arms were bulging, muscles on full display as they moved to further prove his words. The vest did nothing to offer cover and with his pretty lips wrapped around the cigarette, you felt faint. His brown locks were shaggy, covering his eyes in a way that made you wanna tug them as you kissed.

Simply put, you’d wanted him to ruin you.

“No, baby. Jus’ look pretty today is all.” You sighed, now staring at him shamelessly as you leant against the car door to have him in your full view.

“Pretty?!” Daryl scoffed, affronted at the very suggestion. Even so, his ears heated up and his cheeks tinged the slightest shade of pink. “Can’ say I've heard that one before.”

“You are,” You promised, voice filled to the brim with adoration for him because yeah, your archer was fuckin’ pretty and deserved to be told. “Look super handsome today.”

“Shut up.” His gruff voice sounded, rolling his eyes at you as you’d made him flush again.

“I’m serious! Got me all flustered, ever since this mornin’!” You huffed, voice whiny and light, throwing your head back against the window for relief on your heated skin.

With your admission, he averted his gaze from the road to you, silently groaning at your blown out pupils, the pink flush dancing across your cheeks and down your chest.

Jesus, you were serious. How the fuck was he supposed to continue on driving when he had his girl next to him, needy for him?

“Fuck.” He spoke, noting that you had now taken your seatbelt off and were shuffling closer to him. “What’re you doin?”

You’d opted to take an old pickup truck and there wasn’t any middle console, just a continuation of the bench. For what you had in mind, you silently thanked whoever came up with that design.

“Pull over, Daryl.” With a breathy voice, you pressed a wet kiss onto his neck. Hearing a hitch in his breath, you licked up his neck until you reached his scruffy cheek, moaning as you did so. “Please, need you so bad.”

The car jerked suddenly as you palmed his strong thigh, teeth nibbling on his earlobe. He felt himself harden in his pants at the feel of your dainty hands touching him, of your plushy lips soothing the sting your teeth had left behind.

“Can’t, sunshine. It’s not safe to be sittin’ in the road bein’ distracted.” He spoke with regret, especially as your hand palmed his dick over the material. He wanted you safe though, and he wasn’t lying when he thought it was dangerous to pull over in the middle of nowhere. “Just wait til we get— fuck.”

His words muddled into a string of curses, car wobbling again as you’d released him before pulling his cock from his pants, zipper undone.

“Wanna suck you off.”

And shit, with the way you were looking at him, with the way you wet your lips as you looked at his dick, he wanted to stuff your mouth full.

“Dammit, you’re such a fuckin’ brat.” You bent down, level with his crotch as you gawked at his exposed dick, precum now bubbling at the tip.

You licked your lips at the sight of white, pearly beads and before he could process it, his engorged tip was in the warm confines of your mouth, suckling soft and slow.

“Cant ever behave, can you? Jesus, baby.” He looked down at you, grunting as your eyes met his just as you swirled your tongue over him, dipping into his drippy slit. You hummed at the salty flavor of him, giving a few more sucks to his tip, before releasing it with a ‘pop’, a string of saliva connecting your puffy lips to him.

You’d only stopped because you noticed he’d let off the gas, the car barely even moving down the deserted street.

“Drive.” You demanded, gripping his base and jerking at a teasingly slow pace, eyes piercing his pretty blue ones. You leaned in to his face, licking his bottom lip before sucking the soft skin into your mouth. Daryl was so unbelievably turned on from your behavior that your voice barely registered. You released his lip, planting a wet kiss onto him before looking at him again. “Drive the car, or I’m stopping. It’s not safe to stop, remember?”

And from the snarl that appeared on his spit-slick mouth, you knew you’d pay for saying that.

“Nah, I can’t focus when your mouth is o—“

“Drive.”

Your command surged him into action, partially because your bratty attitude was making him throb and partially because he needed his dick down your throat, now.

The engine roared as he pressed down on the gas. Then, he gripped your hair tightly, scalp tingling as he made you look at him.

“Suck.” When you made no move, because you’d been too fucking entranced by how hot Daryl was, especially as he yanked your hair roughly, he grunted. “Now, your pissin’ me off with your little fuckin’ angel eyes.”

His words, along with his grip on your hair, had you parting your lips and sucking him down.

The car was filled with the filthy noises your mouth made as you switched between licking him from base to tip and then wrapping swollen lips around him. His taste was overwhelming your senses and your cunt ached to be filled. The rumble of the car kept jiggling your body and you gagged around him as you slid lower onto him.

Tears pooled your lash line but instead of letting up, you bobbed your head up and down to hear more of his groans. The only time Daryl was truly vocal was when you sucked him off and shit, if it didn’t make you wet.

You snuck a hand around to pet your pussy, the throb becoming too much to ignore, when Daryl suddenly pulled you off him. And the sight of you had him bucking into the air; a mix of spit and his precum coated your lips, your eyes wet from crying on his cock, hair messy around your face.

You looked so pretty like this, all cock-drunk.

“Don’t get to touch yourself, not with your fuckin’ attitude.” His tone was so gravely, so assertive that instead of being annoyed, you whimpered. “Now, get your pants off and c’mere.”

It was only then you’d noticed that he’d stopped the car, trees surrounded the vehicle as nothing was in sight for miles.

Your demanding act was far gone; you needed Daryl inside you.

Without another thought, you clambered from your kneeling spot and wiggled out of your pants as best as you could, though your movements were jittery as Daryl watched you the entire time, eyes nearly black with need.

Finally free, you swung yourself onto his lap and moaned loudly; his cock, hard and still coated in your spit, rubbed at your thinly covered cunt as you sat atop him. The buckle of his pants was cold and you jolted as its coolness hit your puffy clit.

“Fuck, Daryl.” You gripped his long strands, yanking as you humped him. The sight of you all whiny and pathetic for him made him grunt lowly before catching your parted lips in a kiss. “Mmph.”

Immediately, the kiss was obscene. Daryl rubbed his tongue with yours, swallowing your whines as the muscles danced with one another. Spit was pooling at the corner of your mouth and as he pulled away, a string of saliva connected you both.

Breathing heavily, Daryl reached between you both and pulled your underwear to the side, swearing as he did so.

“So fuckin’ wet, honey. All this for me?” His eyes flickered across your face as you stared back, lust drenching your features as you huffed.

“All for you,” you gasped, lips bumping his and fingers pulling his hair. His fingers found your entrance, marveling at how fucking soaked you were. Daryl leaned into you, capturing your mouth with his as you whimpered into him as he shoved two fingers in at once.

For a bit, thats all it was and it was a fucking sight. You, clinging to Daryl as you greedily kissed him, moans spilling from you as his fingers filled you. Him, fucking you with one hand whilst the other gripped your ass harshly, pulling the flesh as he rocked you against his fingers inside you.

You would’ve come like that, if he hadn’t then removed them just as your orgasm tickled your gut.

“What the fu—“ you were cut off by Daryl as he shoved his fingers, the ones that were just inside you and therefore covered in slick, inside your parted mouth.

“Shh, thats it.” He marveled as you sucked and cleaned his fingers like the good girl he knew you were.

Pulling them from your lips, he dragged the wetness across your cheek before crashing his lips to yours. You both made noises because the musky and sweetness of you lingered on your tongue. With your taste coating his tastebuds, he snapped.

Daryl parted from you before one hand gripped you and the other grabbed his cock, moving until you were sinking down onto him.

Your cries mingled with his groans; your tight, wet heat sucked him down and finally, he was inside you and filling you up, just like you’d wanted.

“Fuck, Daryl.” You whined, hips swiveling to get used to his size. You were torn between the relief of being filled to the brim and the discomfort because of how big he was.

“This what you wanted, huh? Just so fuckin’ needy you had to stop us in the fuckin’ road?” He grunted, a calloused hand coming to grip your throat, the tightness steadying you. “My filthy girl.”

Then, he thrusted up into you and the sound you made was like a symphony of music to his ears. Spurred on, he kept thrusting into your pussy, groaning at the wet, slippery sounds filling the car. You were so overwhelmed with pleasure and the feel of him that you just clung to him, rolling your hips and humping your clit against him as you took each thrust he gave you.

Though, one particular move was so fucking deep it had you mewl, fingernails digging into the soft skin of Daryl’s neck.

“Daryl,” you gasped, euphoria pumping through every crevice of your body. The buckle of his belt was now slick as your clit continued to hump. “So big— uh, uh— so big.”

His hand gripped your throat firmly, fastening his pace as helped you move with him by lifting your ass in tandem with his hips.

You were a mess; blubbering nonsense to him as your cunt repeatedly clenched down on him as you grew closer to your peak. Daryl was so high on you, your pretty sounds, and suddenly, he needed to see more of your skin.

He removed his grip from your ass to yank your shirt up and he let out a grunt as he saw your absence of a bra. Then, without any other preamble, his lips wrapped around a peaked nipple, sucking wetly.

The mix of his mouth making out with your chest and his cock filling you up at such a haste pace had you crying out, tears spilling down your cheeks as you shuddered on his lap.

Your orgasm had triggered his own; the feel of your sopping pussy squeezing him and your cry of pleasure sent him over the edge.

His moans were animalistic as he filled you to the brim, thrusts losing their rhythm as he pumped his spend into you.

“Daryl—“ you whispered, suddenly exhausted and wanting him closer to you, despite your limbs being intertwined with one another tightly. “Baby.”

“Such a good girl,” he spoke into your neck, making no move to remove his softening cock from you. Even if he did try, you wouldn’t let him. The crazed feeling you’d felt was finally soothed, his cock inside you released relief throughout your body.

Daryl brought a finger between your thighs and his cock twitched inside you as he collected both your orgasms. “Open.”

Because you’d do anything he told you, you wordlessly opened your mouth and moaned as he stuck come covered fingers between your lips. He watched you as you sucked his fingers clean, eyes hooded with tiredness.

“C’mon, gotta get home.” He patted your waist, adoration swirling in his chest as you made no move to return to your seat. In fact, you just scooted closer until your nose grazed his sweaty neck.

“Thought we needed to get stuff.”

“Nah, we’ll just say we couldn’ find anythin’” Daryl brought a hand to your hair, gently brushing your head as you pressed kisses to his collarbone.

You both stayed connected for awhile; maybe two minutes, maybe two hours. Being close with Daryl was exactly what you’d needed to feel a little less feral.

Though, as you both finally rolled through the gates with messy hair and flushed faces, everyone looked at you both knowingly.

#daryl fanfiction #daryl dixion x reader #daryl x y/n #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixion imagine #daryl imagines #the walking dead #daryl x reader #norman reedus #daryl dixon

[frogchiro]

Cowboy Casanova

Day 2 entry!! Yay! Today we have our favorite american slasher, Graves! I hope you enjoy reading♡

Warnings: nsfw, mentions of blood, death and a tiny bit of gore but not too much, it's slasher Graves, general pervy, creepy behavior and just kinda toxic and obsessive Graves, stalking

Philip Graves is a particular man. Coming from an extremely rich and privileged background, basically from the beginning he had or would get everything he would ever want. When he wanted his very own horse at 8? His papa got him one from the best breeder. He wanted a fancy pick up truck at 16 to show off to his peers the moment he got his license? His parents gave him the keys with a smile. He wanted to bang a girl when he was in college? Here she was, hopping on his dick an hour later.

But the thing about Philip Graves was that he's a very jealous and possessive man. He might be called a spoiled brat born with a silver spoon in his mouth but he jealously covets and protects what he cherishes; the gifted horse had the best everything it could ever want and it peacefully died of old age, the pick up truck was thoroughly loved and taken care of and is still in his garage used for recreational rides, as for the girlfriend? Well...yeah sure he dumped her like a week after but at least he snatched her right from under some shit-for-brains rugby player.

But as years passed by nothing seemed to excite him anymore, sure he had his fun in many ways, even picked up a new hobby or two, but even the screams and begging of his victims didn't do the trick anymore. Now that he's pushing 40, Philip's mind starts to wander to places he never thought it would; a pretty floral sundress or skirt moving around his home, a sweet smile and soft eyes greeting him when he gets home from wrangling his ranch, the delicious smell of a nutricious, fatty dinner wafting through the kitchen and the pitter patter of tiny feet clumsily running towards him, a flash of a tiny pink dress jumping at him. A family. Something Philip never thought about in his youth but he guesses the 'biological clock' wasn't complete bullshit as he thought. The problem was that no one really interested him, no one made his heart squeeze and his cock stir to make them the candidate for Philip's wife and those certainly weren't the women in town. No, it had to be someone perfect, a perfect wife, mother, partner for life but there was no one...

Well... his problem solved itself quicker than he thought with your arrival in town. A sweet looking young thing, you looked just about 20 and like a frightened doe when he first saw you get out of the bus one evening with just a measly backpack and a suitcase, not nearly enough to be moving in here but later when he did his own research and asked the local sheriff after you he found out you were apparently staying here and Philip would be lying if he said that his cock didn't pulse in his jeans with happiness.

He didn't believe in love at first sight, fuck no, that was some bullshit in those terrible romantic comedies and such, he didn't have time for this but with you? The blonde man knew you would be trouble with your big, doe eyes, soft body and those broad hips he was sure would carry a baby for him, his baby...

He found put that you were renting a room in old Margery's home in exchange for working in her orchard and helping her around her little farm. Pff, if he had it his way, if only you came to him for help, you wouldn't ever have to lift a finger again, just be sweet and nice and cook him dinner buuut well, here you are.

You may ask, how did he find out all these things about you? Well the thing about Philip is that he's very persistent and once he sets his sight on something, he will get it even if he has to resolve to some...unethical methods like stalking although he'd rather call it 'gathering information for good, future use' which leads you now to the present where the blonde man is hiding behind some bushes and trees to look at you getting ready for bed.

He still can't believe his luck, your room is on the upper floor facing the dark orchard where especially at night like now, Philip can go undetected and he takes full advantage of it. He watches you undress from your pretty pastel sundress, your tits and soft tummy on show, not to mention your hips and thighs.

"Ohh you're just asking for it darlin', ain't ya?" Philip growled lowly to himself as he watched you slip into a nightgown, a modest thing but still pretty plus it showed off a lot of your cleavage and Graves licked his lips before biting his lip at the thought of suckling your cute nipples, marking up your tits so that everyone would know that you're his-but what is that? What are you doing, you little songbird?

Philip's train of thoughts was abruptly cut short when he saw you dimming your lights and slipping a hand under your nightgown, the other one slipping off the shoulder strap down and starting to finger at your nipple. From this distance and due to the darkness around he couldn't see well but he saw your brows draw in tight, your pretty lips falling open to gasp as your fingers worked probably on your clit.

"You little fuckin' tease..." came growled from Philip, his teeth gnashing at the display, a sudden weave of possessiveness washing over him. Suddenly he's jealous of everything, even your bed and nightgown that they get to witness your pleasure and not him. Not your future husband and father of your babies, it doesn't matter that you haven't formally met yet, he will make sure you will soon.

For now though he needs to retreat, go back to his huge but lonely and quiet house and jerk off until his cock is red and raw, balls empty and his belly and chest splattered with his sperm that he grumbles should be inside you but he has to make do for now.

Just you wait little love, soon you will be by his side and then no one will even think of coming between you♡

#kin speaks #kin's kinktober #cod x reader #cod mw x reader #philip graves x reader #graves x reader #philip graves

[the-californicationist]

he meets you for lunch

Captain Price has been begging to get you alone, and when he finally does, he makes you get yourself off on his thick thigh.

MDNI/18+

Link to AO3

Price had been texting you all morning, and they were all salacious as hell…

Can’t stop thinking about how wet you are.

Gonna make you come all over my cock tonight, love.

Remember that butt plug we bought? You’re going to wake up tomorrow morning with it in one hole and me in the other.

Cock’s so hard for you, pretty girl.

Meet me for lunch. I need to feel that pussy.

You were trying to work, as a shipping manager for his unit no less, and even though you were a civilian, you were still under normal fraternization rules. But, Laswell turned a blind eye, which you were grateful for. However, you tried not to rub her leniency in her face.

Price had been on a tear recently. Ever since you’d stopped taking your birth control, he’d become more and more feral about his affections. You still weren’t trying for a baby, but you had medical issues and needed to work those out. So, it was condoms or, more typically, a belly or ass cheek covered in his come. You had to admit, though, he was turning you on with these messages. You’d worn a dress to work today, being allowed free-reign in your clothing choices, unlike your military colleagues.

You decided to take advantage of your easy-access attire, messaging him back:

Lunch at noon?

He replied almost instantly,

I’m omw

You exhaled a shaky breath through your lips, the excitement of his lustful attention had you hot and bothered. You waited by your phone for him to call.

It wasn’t long until he did. His bearded face popped up on your lock screen as you were walking out of the back door,

“I’m waiting for you, baby. Fucking ready for you.”

“Oh, my God, John. You’re going to get us fired,” you whispered into the mouthpiece.

“Don’t care. Need ya. Need ya right fuckin’ now.”

As he was saying the words, you were watching him say them through his windshield. He was staring right at you, his icy blues piercing through the gap between you, pulling you in like a hypnotist, a snake charmer, a predator stalking his prey.

You opened the heavy door to the truck and heaved yourself up, needing to climb up the step in order to get into the cab. He turned the wheel and sped out of the lot, driving to a nearby park. You’d been there before, but never for sex. Usually, it was just a quiet spot to talk, or to kiss each other without fear of reprimand. But, his aggressive driving was making his intentions quite clear. He slammed the truck into park and reached across the middle console, pulling you over it roughly. It was almost too rough, and you were shocked at his intensity.

“John! Hey,” you caught yourself in his arms, “Baby, slow down.”

He grabbed your arms and shook you once, gently, to get your attention, locking your eyes to his,

“I am on fire. You set me on fire, love. And I need you to put it out.”

“Okay,” you pet his cock through his canvas pants, “I’m here, baby. I’m right here.”

He groaned, desperate for your relief. You repositioned your leg on the other side of his thick, muscular thigh, straddling him as you unzipped his pants. He looked at you with suspicion and more of that animalistic aggression,

“Your cunt feels warm on my leg. Put it on me,” you did, “Yes, just like that.”

You rubbed yourself on his thigh, trying to only do it once or twice, not wanting to stain his pant leg.

“Don’t stop,” Price moaned again, shoving your hips back down onto his thigh, “Ride me like that while you tug on my cock.”

“I’ll get…” you had to take a breath. The pleasure of feeling your lips being crushed against his hard muscle was coursing through you, making you lose your bearings, “I’ll get you wet. Mess up your pants…”

“Good. Fuckin’ do it. I wanna feel how wet you are. Play with that dick, baby. Touch me, please.”

You didn’t know how to say no to him. As you rode his leg, you chased your orgasm, and it came easily to you. You used both hands to massage his cock, using your wrists to twist and curl around him, leaning forward near enough to smell the familiar scent of expensive tobacco on his breath. Each time you canted your hips forward and back, you felt your pussy flex and slide across the cotton of your panties and the thick, rugged canvas fabric, spreading your lips apart and exposing your clit. You kept up a feverish pace, half of you striving towards his completion while the other half of you chased down your pleasure like a bandit.

Eventually, like a sharpened knife, the sensations became too keen. You faltered, losing your pattern of back and forth motions; the wet humping you were doing had made you come, and you needed him to help you. You looked at him with pleading eyes, and he moaned with you, grabbing your hips and forcing you down, pressed tighter than you’d ever been, making you fuck his quad roughly, leaving no room for sensitivity.

As he was helping you, moving your body on top of his, he started to come. You shielded it from shooting from the tip with your palm, rubbing it into his swollen head, making him clench his teeth from the overwhelming feeling you created. He kept pushing and pulling you, back and forth until you were nearly crying from the onslaught.

You sat up, and you swung your leg back over the console to survey the damage. There was a huge diamond-shaped stain where you’d ridden him, and he was obsessed with it. He traced it with his finger, rubbing across it, putting his palm over it and pressing it into his skin through the canvas.

“So wet for me,” he smiled up at you, “Call in sick.”

“John, no,” you scolded him, “we can’t just take off work whenever you want to fuck me.”

“Either you call in, or I’ll do it for you. But,” his expression darkened, “Let me be bloody fucking clear. I am going to fuck you today. Right now. One way or another.”

You moaned, smiling, getting excited about his plans,

“Let me get my phone.”

#captain john price #captain price #john price #cod mw2 #cod mwii #call of duty fanfic #captain price x reader #captain price x you #cod

[rookthorne]

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐏𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐦

It was an old wives tale that you put no stock in: that a way to a man’s heart was through his stomach — though this time, it worked, and it worked better than you could have ever imagined. 

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ༄ Fireman!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader x Fireman!Steve Rogers

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ༄ 2.4k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ༄ Fluff, extreme tension of the spicy kind, implication of a poly relationship (Steeb and Bucko are married but it doesn't stop them) and they are menaces

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 ༄ Look, I can't help what I did here. I just thought of their uniforms. You're welcome.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 ༄ Moments Silence (Common Tongue) by Hozier

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 ༄ @stuckybingo 𝗕𝟱 — Firefighter AU — Masterlist

𝐁𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐭 𝐃𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

It had been a day. And on days like this, you turned to baking; sugar was a sure-fire way to improve anyone’s mood. 

You weren’t sure how you had gone that overboard, though. Your kitchen, once spotless and organised, was in disarray with trays of muffins and cookies that were overloaded to the point they were almost overflowing. 

It wasn’t a baking disaster, no — it was just a severe overestimation of the ingredients, that’s all.

The clouds out of your kitchen window looked stormy and grey, and a steady breeze rustled the trees lining your yard, and you sighed, glancing back down at the array of sweets. You came to a decision then. The firemen — and firewomen — at your local station; they were always giving to the community, fearlessly putting their lives on the line to save others and help them.

They deserved some sweet treats, too. 

With your arms ladened with containers of baked goods, you placed them on the back seat of your car and then started the engine. The fire station of your small town wasn’t too far away, so you cranked up the volume of your radio and began the quick drive, a big smile on your face.

There was a bus parked just down the road with the sign for children boarding, and the smile on your face widened. Today must have been field trip day, and where better to do it than here? Children were standing just inside the station's roller doors where a truck sat, lights flashing bright; red and blue bouncing and reflecting off of gleeful, childish smiles. 

You hummed quietly to yourself and parked your car, a small distance away to keep the driveway clear — after all, emergencies didn’t stop just because children and baked goods appeared. 

A loud whoop of a siren echoed as you made your way to the open roller door and the children squealed, making you grin behind the towering containers in your arms, overjoyed to have picked such a cheerful day to share. 

“Kids, settle down,” a deep voice called, the smile evident in the tone. You peered around the doorway and saw a fireman, a toothy smile surrounded by an immaculate goatee. “Now, are you ready to see how we get down the pole,” the man pointed over his shoulder towards the shining fireman’s pole by the stairs, “over there?”

A collective cheer came from the children and you lowered your arms just a little bit so you could see over the top container better. The doorway was partially in the way so you stepped inside, and the man spotted you. “Hi there,” he said, and you smiled back. “Just a minute. Buck can help you when he gets down here.”

“No worries at all,” you said, and Sam — as his name badge on his chest showed — winked before turning back towards the pole.

“Buck, Steve! Show these kids how it’s done.”

Heaven above, you were not ready for what would come sliding down that damned pole. 

The squeak from the sole of boots and the pull of skin against metal sounded and your mouth opened in a quiet gasp, the containers nearly tumbling from your arms. 

A blonde man, the size of a fucking tree, you swore, slid down first. The pants of his uniform were held up by red suspenders that lay over an extremely muscled chest, on full display through an extremely tight grey shirt. He landed on the cement floor with a grunt and spread his arms out, a wide, toothy grin on his face as he took in the clapping children. 

“C’mon, Buck,” he called, looking up at the hole in the roof. “Get down ‘ere!”

It was a miracle that the children cheered again, because the noise that left you when ‘Buck’ slid down the pole was not dignified. 

‘Buck’ was just as, if not, taller than the blonde you assumed now was Steve, and definitely broader. Dark brown hair fell down his face in strands while the rest was kept up in a messy bun. His grin was wide, happy, and bright, and his face was covered in a light dusting of stubble. The dark red, almost burgundy shirt that he was wearing was arguably tighter than Steve’s.

“Oh, fuck,” you whispered when Bucky stood next to Steve, throwing a tattooed arm over Steve’s shoulder, grinning down at the kids that barely reached their knees. “Oh, fuck.”

Fate wanted to laugh at you, however, because it was at that moment that both Steve and Buck looked over at the open doorway, their grins growing wider by tenfold once they managed a glance at your floundering expression. 

“Take care a’her,” Sam, the man with the goatee said before gathering and herding the kids towards the far wall, where uniforms and helmets hung ash stained, but proud.

They sauntered over, and it was all you could do to not fall to the floor with wobbling knees. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” Steve said brightly, and you bit back a whimper. “What can we do for you?”

Uselessly, you glanced between the two of them – struck by how damn handsome they were up close. It put all your calendars to shame. 

“Doll?” Buck said, raising a brow and offering his arms to take the containers. “Lemme take them for you.”

“Thank you,” you squeaked, immediately growing anxious at the loss of the barrier you had to hide behind. “I-I baked them for you guys, as a thank you for all you do for us–”

“Is that a batch of cookies I see?”

Bucky turned at the voice, but Steve was still staring at you, a smirk growing on his pretty pink lips–stop it! You chided yourself. 

“Clint, back off, they’re mine!” Buck yelled, pulling the containers tighter to his chest and shifting closer to Steve until their shoulders bumped.

A snort sounded behind them and you watched another blond approach, rolling his eyes. “Yeah,” Clint said, waving a hand as he entered what looked like an office. “Like your husband would protect you when he could take them all for himself.”

Immediately you looked at Bucky’s left hand, ignoring the way the intricate tattoos contrasted against his skin in the light, and saw two gold bands — one wider than the other with black and red stones. You felt crestfallen, it was a shame–

“What’re you staring at, sweetheart?” Steve piped up suddenly, a dangerously mischievous glint in his eyes. “You eyein’ up my husband?”

The ground couldn’t swallow you whole quick enough, and your eyes widened. “No!”

Buck laughed and shook his head. “Like you weren’t enjoyin’ it, punk.” The containers shifted in his arms and he offered his hand. “I’m Bucky, and this here is Steve.” You offered your name and gasped as Bucky pulled on your hand, placing a soft kiss on your knuckles. 

“Stop swooning and just ask her out for coffee, you fool,” Steve snapped and rolled his eyes, taking the containers from Bucky and striding away, pausing only to wink at you. 

Time had frozen. Your mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. “What the hell just happened?”

“Ignore him, he’s an idiot,” Bucky said, staring at what you would guess to be Steve’s ass as he walked away. “Anyway,” he turned back to you and you realised belatedly that he was still holding your hand. “Thank you, doll, we appreciate it a lot.”

You looked up at him and smiled the best you could — you were still reeling from the shock of whatever the hell just happened. “You’re welcome,” you said quietly, and Bucky tilted his head slightly. It was like a punch to the gut, seeing his hair brush against his cheeks, and the way his grey eyes shone in the light. “I better go–”

“Where you goin’?” Bucky interrupted. He was still not letting go of your hand. 

Staring up at him, you struggled for words before settling on, “Home.”

Bucky raised a single brow in question, and shook his head slightly, as if amused. “You don’t sound so sure about that, honey.”

Oh, god, you thought. 

“Come stay a while, the kids are leavin’ soon,” Bucky said, gesturing towards the kids with a nod of his head. “And this way we can give our compliments to the baker directly.” His smirk — god, it would be the death of you. “I owe you a coffee, c’mon.”

The tug on your hand was like a jumpstart to your heart, and you followed on autopilot while Bucky walked towards another door. His heavy boots slapped against the floor and you watched his back ripple as he walked, barely restraining yourself to just reach out and run your hand over the muscle, to feel the power and strength of them. 

“There he is,” Steve said suddenly, his head poking out the door just ahead. “I was about to come and pull you off her.”

“Like you wouldn’t join in, punk,” Bucky huffed, and you stiffened, your mind racing. Just what kind of marriage was this? 

The door opened and Bucky pulled you inside. It was a breakroom of some description with lockers lining one side of the room, while tables littered the middle, surrounded by mismatched soft chairs. A red-haired woman was perched on a black chair just inside the entry, while a younger man stood at the lockers – both of them were staring right at you as you entered behind Bucky, the young man with wide eyes, the woman with narrowed eyes, like she was appraising you.

“Who’s this?” The red-head asked, a sly smirk pulling at her lips when she glanced down to see Bucky still holding your hand.

“This is the lovely dove that baked us all these goodies,” Clint piped up suddenly behind you. 

The young man ran towards Steve who was setting out the baked treats, snatching one with a laugh when Steve pushed him away. “Kid, you got no damn patience, d’you?”

“No,” he answered, and he looked at you, waving happily. “I’m Peter, by the way.”

“Hi Peter,” you said softly. Bucky pulled you closer again and you were suddenly against his side, his arm over your shoulder and all you could smell was him — woodsmoke, some kind of spice, and just Bucky. You gulped quietly and smiled at the red-head who stood slowly and made her way over to the table, then Steve. “I hope you like them,” you gestured to the containers.

“Make way!”

Bucky pulled you to stand beside the door and the man with the goatee appeared, grinning happily and making a beeline to the table of containers. “That’s Sam,” Bucky whispered, pointing at Sam’s back with the hand over your shoulder. “He’s the fire chief.” Then he pointed at the woman, a slight smile on his lips when you looked up at him. “That’s Nat, and I am terrified of her.”

“I heard that, Barnes,” Nat said suddenly, her back still to you as she perused what was on offer. “Watch it.”

Unseen by her, Bucky grimaced exaggeratedly and saluted. You laughed.

“Alright,” Steve said, clapping his hands. He took a seat on a couch you didn’t notice before and he patted the cushion next to him. “Come sit down, sweetheart,” he said, though you had no choice because Bucky had started to steer you towards him. “You deserve to enjoy your baking, too.”

You landed with an oof against Steve’s side, and Bucky followed, sitting on the free cushion with a loud groan. “Haven’t sat down all day,” he complained. Steve rolled his eyes and offered you a muffin that you took with a smile. 

The containers slowly emptied and so did the room. Clint, Natasha, Peter, and Sam had filtered out to the office, leaving you alone with Steve and Bucky. 

“So, sweetheart,” Steve purred suddenly, and your gaze snapped to his face. You could feel Bucky shift next to you but you were trapped in Steve’s gaze, a deer in headlights. “What d’you say, huh?”

You baulked, not even registering Bucky’s hand on your shoulders, slowly moving up to grip the back of your neck. “What?”

Steve chuckled and Bucky huffed a laugh, putting more pressure on the back of your neck – enough to cause you to shiver. “Come home with us, doll,” Bucky said, his voice low and hoarse. A shudder flew up your spin and you couldn’t form words. It was all too much of a shock–

An alarm echoed in the breakroom and you jumped a foot in the air. 

“Damn it all,” Steve groaned.

Bucky looked to the ceiling and let go of your neck. “Always the fuckin’ way.”

“What’s happening?” You asked, looking between the two as they got to their feet, slight frowns on their lips. 

“Time to go save lives,” Steve winked. “Tell ‘er, Buck, I’ll see you out there.”

You watched Bucky nod and offer a hand to pull you up, only when you took it, he pulled you tight to his chest, a slight chuckle rumbling in his throat when you let out a small noise of surprise. His hands gripped your shoulders and pushed you back so he had to bend slightly to look you in the eye, it was all you could do to not whine needily at the action — why was he so damn tall, you cursed. 

“Here,” Bucky said, pulling a small card and a pen from his pants pocket. He stood there for a second scrawling something, and then he handed it to you. It was a phone number. “Call me later.”

There was a shout from out by the truck and Bucky winced. “I gotta go, doll,” he rushed, and he placed a quick kiss on your cheek, the stubble on his jaw tickling slightly. 

“Okay,” you said numbly, still in shock. Bucky smiled and ran from the room; the yells of his crew audible even over the alarm. Slowly, you ran your finger over where he kissed your cheek. 

You couldn’t shake the warmth you felt when you sat next to Steve, nor could you shake the comfort you felt from Bucky’s touch. It was surreal. They were married to one another, but yet, here they were so openly flirting with you – you were intrigued, happy even for that fact.

Suddenly, as you walked back to your car parked a small way away, thumbing at the small card in your hand, you realised bringing treats to the station may have just changed your life. 

And you could not wait.

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

#bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x f!reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x bucky barnes #bucky barnes x steve rogers #bucky barnes x reader x steve rogers #stucky #stucky x reader #stucky fanfiction #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff #steve rogers oneshot #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fluff #stucky bingo #rookthorne's works #PTA

[netherfeildren]

Greener Memories of Better Men

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: Best Story of the Day! South Austin elementary school started a “Breakfast With Dads” program but many dads couldn’t make it and several students didn’t have father figures. The school posted fliers at the local YMCA’s for 50 volunteer fathers… 600 different people from all backgrounds showed up…

Joel Miller is one of them. 

-OR- 

Sarah’s gone and Joel wants to feel close to her again. He reconnects with someone he used to know along the way.

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: No outbreak; Grief; Child loss; Emotional hurt/comfort; Angst; Fluff and smut; Unprotected sex; Creampie; Oral Sex (f!receiving); Size Difference; Size kink; Dirty talk; Truck sex; Praise kink

A/N: This was planned for a long time, and then just happened all at once today without prior thought. Enjoy! :)

Word Count: 10.8K

Read on AO3

When she got very sick, towards the end, they used to listen to “The Weight” by The Band all the time. He’d sit at her bedside playing it for her over and over again, and he’d watch her breathe. For hours, he’d sit there and watch the rise and fall of her chest, the slow, weak thrum of her pulse in her neck beneath the wan and clammy skin, listen to the sound of her fight to continue existing. Sometimes, when she was a little more on this side of lucid, when she’d let him look at those gorgeous green eyes, she’d mouth the words at him through cracked, parched lips. Hey, mister, can you tell me where a man might find a bed? The still beautiful sound of her laughter, not made any less lovely despite its weakness now, when she adapted the lyrics to suit herself, take a load off, daddy. 

And sometimes, when she was keen on showing that superior and tremendous wit, that intelligent mind, the eye she had for seeing within and through him, she’d say that Fanny was the friend they’d always needed, but had never had. Like she knew, she knew there were times, only sometimes, where there was something missing, an imaginary figure that would have been nice or helpful, that was sometimes wished for. A mother, a wife, a partner, a friend, something they might have both needed or liked to have, perhaps, even especially, now, at the end. 

It had been a slow crawl towards death, for a long time, and then, suddenly, a mad dash to the finish line she’d seemed desperate to win. 

At times he’d been angry, angry and resentful and so fucking filled with a rage so deep it terrified him at the unfairness of it all. Sometimes there were parts of Joel that wished it was him lying in that bed, rotting away from the inside out by that invisible poison crawling through his little girls veins, but then the idea of Sarah being the one left behind, the one left alone, seemed an equally terrible fate, and he could not discern which was the worse of the two evils. And so he was left with nothing but this terrible impotence warring inside of him against his equally terrible anger. 

If he could have carried the weight of her illness for her, he would have. If he could have bore the pain and suffering of it, he would have. He would have eaten his own heart, cut off his own limb, forsaken everything he’d ever known, to have taken her suffering from her. He’d told her they’d be brave together, that they’d get out of it together. Eventually though, that mad dash had ended, and after it was all done, she’d been the only one to be brave, and he’d been the only one to get out of it. If that’s what it could even be called. Sarah had died and Joel had been left with nothing more than whatever half life he pretended at now. 

It’d been a year and a half since then, five hundred and sixty seven days since he’d put his only child in the ground. Days of living his life as if a thousand raging gladiators screamed and readied for battle in his mind while he lay limp and motionless in their midst. While he lay limp and motionless as the rest of the world went on around him. He failed all the time now, it seemed. Failed at being a father, a man, a brother, in his waking hours and in his dreams. And sometimes he wondered or worried at what she’d think of him now, if she saw what he’d let himself become. A limp and useless thing in the shadow of the memory of what he’d always been or wanted to be. 

But he remembered love, he remembered loving her, and he thought that if he held onto that, perhaps, he could be something again. Certainly not himself, or who or what he’d been before, but he could find the wherewithal or the strength or the conviction to be something, surely, he could be something again. How could death have the ability to touch such perfection? He could not understand. So, if he could no longer be a father, Sarah's father, then he could find it in himself to at least be alive, couldn’t he? For her, at least, for that memory of loving her. 

He sees the flier at the YMCA one evening, after he’s finished his workout. For months he’d gone from work to bed and bed to work. Gotten soft and lazy and horrible, half dead, but he’d had a dream a few weeks ago, a memory of them at Lady Bird Lake when they’d go and feed the ducks. She’d wanted to burst into the water after them, catch one for herself. Skinny little arms and legs flailing as he caught her around the waist, stopping her from rushing in after the poor things as they paddled madly away from the lovely little terror that she was. The thing he was now was not the man, the father, he had been before, not even a fraction. And he’d felt disgusted and ashamed and frightened with himself at the thought of her ever seeing the creature he’d become. He’d gone for a jog that evening after work. As exhausted and beaten down from the day as he’d been, he’d tied on his sneakers and forced his body to move. It had felt terrible and cathartic and he’d thrown up in his front yard afterwards, pathetic, heaving sobs wracking his body as he emptied the contents of his stomach in the overgrown grass and tears dripped down the tip of his nose, right there for the whole world to witness. But he’d gone out again the next day and the next and the next, and then he’d gone and gotten a membership for the Y, paid the thirty dollars and promised himself he’d make it there a few days every week. Pushed himself week after week to exhaustion and tears, even, sometimes. Wilting into bed at the end of the day like a felled weed, but he couldn’t stop. 

Don’t stop to think, don’t interrupt the scream. 

So he tried to not think, and he tried to keep going. 

They used to walk down there all the time before, to the Y, Joel, Sarah and Tommy. She loved to swim, and the three of them would jump in the pool together and play for hours every summer. They were good memories he knew he needed to keep fresh in his mind, like a muscle that needed to be exercised constantly. He couldn’t, didn’t want to lose them. 

The flier called for volunteers to show up for an event at Sarah’s old elementary school, “Breakfast with Dads” requesting fathers who could show up for those children who didn’t have a father figure in their lives. He’d stood still as a statue, reading the poster over and over again for almost ten minutes there, in the middle of the bustle of the busy gym around him. He could still remember the last time he’d picked her up at school with perfect clarity, the way she’d looked, curls bobbing around her, green eyes shining, shooting out the double doors towards him. She’d always been good in school, smart and lovely and friendly. He’d had to make the difficult decision to pull her out almost a year before she’d died, when she’d started getting too weak from the treatments to continue going in person. He’d not been back to the place since. Didn’t know if he was capable of walking through those halls she used to walk through, where she’d been happy, had friends, been a kid. 

He thinks about it for days afterwards, afraid and unsure and awkward with himself. Worried the children will be able to smell the deceit on him, the fact that he isn’t really a father anymore, lying on the soft purple rug of her perfectly preserved bedroom. A mausoleum to her memory that he meticulously cleans every Sunday to maintain exactly as she left it, staring up at the stick-on stars of the ceiling. He thinks that perhaps it would be good for him, that perhaps he would like the chance to feel like a father again, to remember what it is to have some spunky little kid talk at him for hours on end the way Sarah used to. And if nothing else, he thinks that there might be some child out there without the commodity of a father, the way he is without the blessing of his daughter, who would appreciate the fact that he’d shown up. Perhaps, he can make some kid not feel as alone as he always feels now. 

The morning of the breakfast dawns bright and warm, but with the faint scent of impending rain in the ether. She’d died on the same kind of sunny, tremulous day, and Joel’s hands shake as he walks up the steps of the elementary school. Flashes of the memory of her running out of these same double doors, skipping down the steps, curls flopping and gap toothed smile more luminous and sillier than any sight he’d ever beheld before. His heart beats like a hummingbird in his chest, hands clammy and shaking and ridiculous. He cries all the time now, at any and everything and it embarrasses him but is also so strangely freeing. He’d watched that ridiculous, but not really, movie Uptown Girls last night and had wept like a child at the end of it, all throughout it if he’s being honest. Huge mistake for the night before he was supposed to show face bright and early and have some kid inspecting him. Tommy’d shown up this morning with coffee and burritos and told him his face looked swollen, fucking asshole, and he’s once again ridiculous and embarrassed and awkward and shaking with nerves as he takes a few deep, calming breaths, before stepping into the Sarah’s old cafeteria. 

The large room is loud and chaotic, the bright sound of children’s voices and laughter and commotion, and people, there are a lot of fucking people. Two different lines of men, traversing the entire wide room, starting at a long table on one end and snaking through the lunch tables. It seems he wasn’t the only one who’d seen the posters, who had felt the need to come here today. He’s inspecting the lines, deciding which one seems to be moving faster when he hears his name, soft and breathy and incredulous, voice like a fucking angel: “Joel?”

He turns and there you are. “Joel Miller?” You almost stumble towards him, hand almost outstretched, eyes almost swimming. The last time he’d seen you was the last time he’d picked Sarah up here, and there’d been real tears in your eyes that time as you got to your knees, and his daughter buried her face in your neck, your soft hair, as she cried and told you how much she’d miss you, how much she didn’t want to go. You’d been her last teacher before she’d had to leave school – she’d never gotten to finish the year with you, and it had been a painful and difficult parting for the both of you. One he’d not appreciated fully in the moment, but now, looking at your shocked face, like you’ve seen a ghost, the memory rears its head in his mind, the sound of your voice trying to soothe her, trying to remain strong, stifle the sound of your own tears. You’d gone to the hospital once, near the end, the nurses had told him, in the quick hour he allotted himself to go home and shower every day, to say goodbye to her. Had sat at her bedside and laughed with her, brought her a card and a bright bouquet of yellow daisies in a pretty, blown glass vase from her entire class. It had been near the end of the school year, what would have been the end of Sarah’s second grade year, and he’d been glad, after the nurse had gushed about the pretty young woman who’d come in, made Sarah laugh and smile, perked her up for even a few brief moments, he’d been so fucking glad he’d missed you. He hoped he’d never have to see you again, could avoid the memory of his daughter in your care, the way the two of you looked at each other, like you shared a secret, a friendship, a connection, that of pupil and teacher, but also just two girls, something special and sacred. He envied it and resented it and was glad he’d missed you and grateful he’d not had to see you, but he was also grateful for the fact of you, that you’d been able to give her something she’d needed and he could not provide. 

He whispers your name, and you finally reach him, hand fully outstretched now, not an almost anything anymore, and your small, delicate fingers grasp at his thick forearm. The soft touch burns. 

He places his big hand over yours, completely engulfing you, and when he whispers your name back he feels a tremble in your limb. “Joel, I’m so glad to see you,” said with so much sincerity he feels the backs of his eyes pinch. He did not think the hardest part of this day would be seeing you again, a person who’d known and cared for his daughter so deeply. 

“I– I’m glad to be here,” he chokes, coughs, tries to take a steadying breath. “I saw the posters– just thought… I just thought it’d be nice for me to come around.”

“Yes,” you squeeze his arm gently, “Yes, of course. Welcome, please, I’m really so glad to see you here. There are so many great kids here today–” you cut yourself off, and your face does a funny sort of uncertain thing, you shake your head, try and give him a small smile. A deep breath, and then: “There are so many kids here that need someone. It’s a real good thing you came.”

“Yeah, well… I just wanted to– to feel– to remember–” he shakes his head too, unable to continue, but he sees that you understand. You slide that small hand into his, wrapping around two of his thick fingers and pull him around and further into the room. Nodding your head and smiling back at him like you’ve got the best sort of secret you’re about to let him in on. “Of course. Come on, I’ll show you to your seat. I know just the person for you.”

-

“Joel, this is my niece–”

“Who the fuck is this guy?” All the sass in the world and a scarred eyebrow to boot. 

“Ellie,” you say nice and slow, voice soothing as if trying to calm a wild banshee on the verge of revolt, it makes him smile a small smile, “We’re gonna be nice. You promised this morning.”

“Ugh, fine,” she drops her head back on her neck, and he can see the whites of her eyes flash as she rolls them as far back as they can surely go. “Stick me with the dinosaur, what do I care?” Christ, he mutters under his breath, trying to hide his scoff of a laugh with a rough cough. He turns his head to rub his chin against the hill of his shoulder, running a hand over his whiskered face. 

“Ellie– Mom said you can’t go to the sleepover tonight if you aren’t nice. Right?” You try and reason with her. 

“Fine. Whatever – nice.” And she flashes a big old, saccharine grin, wagging her eyebrows at you. 

“Okay,” you turn back to him, bringing your hands together in a soft clap beneath your chin and giving him a small and painfully sweet little smile – worried and probably a little afraid for him. He shakes his head, “It’s alright, we’ll be okay,” he says low, distracted by the sight of your small hands, fine and delicate looking, and the dainty gold necklace that sits at the hollow of your throat, a little golden pendant of your initial. 

You nod your head slowly, turn back to give the kid, Ellie, one more stern look, and then turn to walk away, leaving him to face her alone, and no, he most definitely does not glance at your ass as you walk away from him.

He turns back to look at the kid, and she rolls her eyes again, turning back to flip open the book she’s got infront of her on the lunch table, a one Will Livingston’s No Pun Intended: Volume Too. 

He snorts a little, sighs and settles into the cramped bench made for a child, thick thighs barely squeezing into the space between the table’s edge and the seat, knees bumping the underside. “Well aren’t you a pleasant one.”

“Yeah, a ray of fuckin’ sunshine. What’s your problem?”

“Jesus, kid. How old are you?”

“Thirteen. How old are you?”

“Forty eight.”

“Old.”

“Yeah.”

“So, why'd you get stuck with the leftovers? Where's your kid?”

He clears his throat, “Uh well, she– she’s not here anymore. Or I mean– she doesn’t go to school here anymore. She died. A while ago.”

“Oh, shit.” She’s quiet for a beat, looking down at the open page of the book, It doesn’t matter how much you push the envelope. It’ll still be stationary. “That sucks, man. I'm sorry.”

He supposes the correct response is: “Thank you,” he nods his head awkwardly, still unaccustomed to going through the motions of having to tell people and accept condolences. He doesn’t think it’ll ever be something he gets used to. 

“I think…” she tilts her head side to side, letting the thought slide between her ears, flips to the next page, I walked into my sister’s room and tripped on a bra. It was a booby trap. “That my dad is dead, or at least a dead beat or something,” she snickers. “Don’t know. My mom never talks about him.”

Dead or a dead beat, he mutters, shaking his head, “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s hard– being a parent, right?”

“Yeah. Yeah… hardest thing in the world–”

“Is it like – like weird… to not be one anymore?”

He feels his stomach drop out from under him, coughs roughly, “Dunno… I guess– I guess in ways I still feel like a parent. Think I’ll always feel like that. But in other ways, yes, it’s… weird.”

“Yeah… I guess that makes sense. You don’t forget how stuff feels, right?”

“Yeah, you don’t forget how stuff feels.”

“Do you like space?” she asks suddenly, very seriously, knocking her head to the side, looking up at him with big, baleful, hazel eyes. His heart twists in his chest.

“Sure, yeah. Space is alright.”

And then another seeming one eighty: “If you could do anything you wanted, where would you go? What would you do?”

“Don’t know, never really thought about it. Maybe… an old farmhouse, some land, a ranch.”

“Cool. What kind?”

He shakes his head, Jesus, I don’t know… “Sheep. I would raise sheep.” She nods, doubtful, unimpressed look on her face, and he frowns at the look, “They’re quiet, do what they’re told.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay. So, just you and a bunch of sheep. Romantic,” she says sarcastically. 

“What about you? What would you do?”

She points a single finger up towards the ceiling, ah, space… “Probably because I’ve always been here, never left Austin, single mom and all, ya know– I’ve read everything I could in the school library… Neil Armstrong, Buzz Aldrin, Jim Lovell. But you know who my favorite is?”

He could understand her on this. He felt, too often, like he was still right where she’d left him. “Sally Ride,” he says, of course.

“Sally fuckin’ Ride!” She slaps her hands down on the table, “Best astronaut name ever,” Shakes her head, whistling through her teeth appreciatively. 

He nods his head, yeah, figures. “So, your aunt…” and he feels a hot flush spread over the tops of his cheekbones, real smooth, Joel. At least he’d waited this long. 

“She’s my mom’s sister. She’s great. The three of us live together – kind of like my second mom, I guess. Or like they take turns being mom and dad. We’ve always been together.”

“That’s great, kid. She’s great. She– she was my daughter’s teacher, I’ve known her for a while now.”

“Yeah, she really is. I punched this girl last year,” she says way too excitedly, “Bethany,” rolls her eyes, “For being a huge dick, man, like seriously, she was. And she got me out of it. Backed me up with the principal, Mr. Kwong. No one else would’ve stuck up for me that way.”

“Yeah, I can see that. Seems like her style–”

“Protective,” she snickers.

“Yeah–” 

“And good. Her and my mom, they’re a unit, the three of us. Don’t know, I’ve never seen anyone take care of each other the way they do. Sometimes…” she looks away a little shyly, “I misbehave,” she says slowly, “Like the fighting. For no reason, I guess. And I know it worries them. But I’m trying to be better, not fight as much. My friend Riley, she’s a good influence. She stops me when I get too riled up.”

“I reckon it’s a lot easier said than done, but the fact that you’re trying to be good is what counts, is what I’d say. I’m sure being thirteen is difficult,” he says a little sarcastically, but giving her the approximation of a small, warm smile.

“Fuck you, man,” she laughs, “It’s difficult as shit.” It hits him then, suddenly, that the kid just needs someone to talk to, someone other than perhaps her mother or her aunt who she knows love and worry for her so much. A third, impartial party. Joel had come here today and been able to be that for her, and as inconsequential as it may seem, after all he’s lived through, it’s everything to him. 

The teachers and school administrators begin the process of handing out the breakfast: pancakes and bacon and sausage and fruit, and Ellie tells him about her book, full of terrible puns he pretends to frown at but also can’t really help but laugh at with her, and about a comic she loves Savage Starlight. Endure and survive, she tells him, is the motto, and he can’t help but think the idea is far reaching and significant in its truth. They sit and talk and laugh together, and it’s easy, this surly kid who pretends at being angry, hiding her charm with a potty mouth and a scowl, but who’s really nothing but sweet. It makes his chest ache and his throat go tight. So much so, that after a while he needs to excuse himself. He tells her he’s going to the restroom and runs off like a coward, the devil and his memories on his heels to take a few deep breaths, a moment alone to collect himself. 

He rushes out of the cafeteria, bursting through the double doors and out into the hallway, scurrying to find a lone corner to hide himself and his shame and grief away in. He makes it to a shadowed alcove at the mouth of an empty hallway of classrooms and presses his hands to the concrete blocks of the wall, painted a soft blue color. He stares at the pockets in the aggregate and tries to take deep breaths, feels the air pass through his lungs, inflate his belly, and then back out, transformed into the world as something else. Sometimes he wishes he had the ability to transform his grief into something else – a non-memory, perhaps. Sometimes he wishes he could forget the whole thing, a terrible, selfish, disgusting thought. But pain makes terrible creatures out of us sometimes, and Joel has existed in a pool of such pain these past five hundred and sixty seven days that sometimes it’s difficult to recognize himself anymore, his desires, his goals, if he even has those anymore. Like he’d said to the kid, it’s a lot easier said than done, but the fact that you’re trying to be good is what counts, and he was trying so very hard to be good, better. 

“Joel?” That soft voice again, a shiver claws its way down his spine, and he shakes his head at the wall, letting his hot, pinched eyes fall closed. 

He coughs, trying to clear his throat, “M’fine. Just needed a second–” Coughs again. And then he feels that small hand from before, at the small of his back. You rest there, gifting him that brief, comforting touch, and he reaches behind himself to clasp you around the wrist, keep you there with him, silent for a moment while he tries and fails to collect himself. His fingers wrap entirely around your wrist and something different and hot and alive flutters deep in his belly. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I can’t talk about it. I’m just– It’s overwhelming being here. I’m sorry. I’m okay,” he rambles. 

“It’s okay, Joel. Just take your time.” Your voice is too soft and gentle for a hard and broken thing like him. 

“She’s a good kid,” he tries and fails to keep his voice steady, comes out all hiccupped and cracked instead, and he feels you step closer, not touching him anywhere else, but he can feel the heat of you against his back. 

“She is,” you whisper.

“S’got a fuckin’ mouth on her.”

“Yeah…” You try and laugh, fail.

He cracks and splinters: “I didn’t think it would be like this coming back here… seeing you,” voice breaking, “She was sick for so long, and I knew she didn’t want to leave me. I knew she was so fucking tired, but she kept holding on just for me. And I told her it was okay, I told her to go and that I’d find her again one day, and now I don't know who I am or what I’ve become, and all I can think about every single day is that if she saw me now I worry she wouldn't recognize me anymore.”

“You’re trying, Joel. That's all that matters. I know you are. I can see it now even just here today, you being here–”

“I wish I could see her smile again, just once–” he cuts you off, not really listening. His ears filled with static noise, chest heaving. Your other hand comes to his flank, and it’s too much: this place, your touch, the kid, all of it, all of his memories and all of his grief, and he shouldn’t have come here today. He squeezes his eyes shut tightly, and for a second, right before he pushes you away, he squeezes your wrist tightly, as tight as he can without really hurting you, lets the heat of your skin burn him, and then lets go of you, harshly shaking you off. 

“I’m fine. I shouldn’t have come here today, I’m sorry. This was a mistake.”

“Joel–”

“Tell Ellie I’m sorry, but I have to go.” And like a fucking coward, like a man his daughter’d be ashamed of, he leaves, runs away from you and the memory of her and another child who needs something he is not equipped to give. 

He listens to the sound of your voice calling after him, and he is nothing but sorry and nothing but too much of a man he wishes he’d never been made into. 

-

You’re on your second margarita when he walks in. Trailing his brother, serious, sullen look on his handsome face. When you’d seen him this morning, after all that time, after the last time which had been so painful and so sad and so full of regret for the circumstance of it, you’d felt like your heart was about to burst through your chest. You thought about him so often, about her, more often, probably, than was warranted or healthy, but the experience of having a child such as that in your care, such a special little person, and having to witness the extinguishing of such a bright flame… Well, calling it a tragedy was entirely inadequate in the face of all it truly was. 

Anna was kind of dating the bartender that worked here, and with Ellie away at a slumber party tonight, the two of you’d decided to have a girl’s night out that you were almost certain was going to turn into a slumber party for Anna with her bartender, Ben, as well. 

You eye the two brothers as they find their spot at the far end of the bar, watch as Tommy, you remember she used to talk about him all the time, flags down Ben to order them two beers, appreciating the way Joel pulls on the glass bottle with that soft, frowning mouth of his. 

He’s so sad. There’s no other word for it. Sad and hurt and made into a sort of tragedy of a man that you wish desperately, and even though it’s not your place, that you could do something to help. The sound of him choking back tears this morning, the sight of him laughing with Ellie, she’d warmed to him immediately which was a miracle all on its own, and he is, you think, a man with so much tenderness to give that has nowhere to go now. And it is nothing but the gravest and saddest sort of tragedy. 

“Hi, Joel.” Eventually, you muster up enough courage, after one more margarita, to approach him. You think that, perhaps, he’ll be annoyed to see you again, another reminder of his past and the difficulty of the morning, but you need to just talk to him one more time. To thank him again for being so brave, to reassure him that he’d done good. Tommy’d abandoned him to brave the waters of the bar a while ago, and he turns in his stool at the sound of your voice to peer over his shoulder. You love his beard, thick and lush and so soft looking, his thick, dark curls, slightly threaded with silver at the temples, and his ridiculously broad back. He’s wearing a dark green button down that brings out the colors in his eyes, tight around the swell of his thick biceps. He’s gorgeous and so fucking hot, and he makes you feel silly with nerves and fizzy bubbles deep in your belly. 

“Hey–” he clears his throat, says your name softly, with a hint of apology. “Hey.”

“I saw you come in earlier, and I– I just wanted to come over and say hi and thank you again for this morning. It was a real nice thing of you to come today.” You try and swallow the shyness and nerves in your voice, but you’re pretty sure you fail spectacularly, can just picture Anna’s mocking giggles as she watches you twist your fingers and fidget in front of the man. 

“You already thanked me,” he says gruffly, “And besides there’s nothing really to thank me for.”

“I know, but again, or anyways,” you stutter, “And there is.” There’s absolutely no reason for these nerves, you know this man, have known him for years, “It was a good thing of you to do. Ellie really liked you–”

“You gave her my apologies, right?” He cuts you off, a thing akin to desperation and worry coloring his tone. 

“I did, don’t worry. She understood.” He looks like he wants to ask what excuse you gave her but forces himself into silence, looking down at his hands in his lap sullenly. “I don’t know… I just wanted to say thank you again.”

“Alright. And I’m sorry too, about earlier – after. I was an ass.”

“You weren’t. I shouldn’t have gone after you, should’ve given you your privacy. I’m sorry. I was nosey.”

He shakes his head, looks up at you with those hazel eyes, “No, I wanted you to come after me.” His voice is rough, like it costs him something to admit this truth to you, “Thank you.”

You have to look away, glancing back at Anna who gives you a wide, cheesy grin and a thumbs up, followed by a much more inappropriate hand gesture. You roll your eyes at her, a hot flush burning your cheeks. “That’s your brother, right? Tommy?” You turn back to him. 

“Yeah, it is… You wanna sit?” He gestures to Tommy’s empty stool. 

“She used to talk about him all the time.” You take the offered seat, nervous for a second that he’ll resent you bringing her up, react badly, but he gives a soft laugh, looking after his brother. “Yeah…” he says slowly, “They were real close.”

“That’s really nice,” you say sincerely. You catch Ben’s eye, and he nods his head at you, turning to get the two of you another round. “You two having a boys night out?”

He gives a short laugh, bringing his beer to his mouth again, pressing the lip of the bottle to his smile, “Guess he was just trying to do the same thing you are right now, distract me, make sure I’m alright or somethin’,” a quick shake of his head, and then takes another drag, and you watch the thick muscles of his neck work as he swallows. You have to look away from the sight, cross your knees together tightly, pulling down the hem of your wrap dress to keep it from riding too high. 

Ben comes around at that moment to place two shots in front of the two of you. “Here you go, baby girl,” a wink and that smarmy little smirk that makes Anna lose her head, for some inexplicable reason, “Tequila for you and your friend here.”

“Baby girl?” Joel eyes you, as you push the shot towards him. 

You roll your eyes, “Ignore him.” He takes the shot from you, fingers brushing yours briefly and you swear you feel a slight jerk move through him. You want him to want you so badly, you think suddenly. 

“Shall we?” you wiggle your eyebrows at him, and he gives you a soft laugh. 

“Seems I don’t got much of a choice,” before clinking his glass against yours, touching the base of it to the bar’s surface, and then shooting it back, not even an insinuation of a grimace as he swallows the strong alcohol, while your face puckers ridiculously. 

Gross. You shake your head, squeezing your eyes shut and sucking on the lime Ben had left also. “He sweet on you or somethin’?” 

“No, not at all.”

“Huh, not so sure about that,” he eyes your sister’s boytoy almost sourly, and you get brave or reckless or something, all of a sudden, when you press right up to his ear, your breasts against his arm, emboldened by the liquor or the soft hazel of his eys, or the breadth of his shoulders when you whisper right into the peach fuzz covered shell of his ear, “He’s fucking my sister. Not me.”

He freezes, a soft, masculine sound rumbling deep in his chest before he clears his throat. He sets the glass down, and then slowly turns to face you, gripping your knee briefly as he spins on the barstool to bring your legs between the space of his spread thighs. He’s so thick everywhere. 

“Is that so?” The place on your legs where he’d gripped you burns and throbs and the other, softer place between your thighs drips and aches. You nod your head at him, temple resting in your palm propped on the edge of the bar. Ben walks by again, snagging your attention from Joel’s molten gaze, “Gimme permission to come over tonight?” he says as he passes. 

“Oh, fuck off,” you laugh after him, and you swear you feel the whisper of Joel’s touch on the curve of your bare knee again. When you turn to look back at him he’s staring down at you, a flush sitting high on his cheekbones. 

There’s something slightly bold or desperate or sad stirring inside of you, and you need to hear the sound of his voice. You wish you could make things better for him. You wish that perpetual look of grief didn’t sit so deeply embedded in his gaze all the time now. 

“You know that feeling of knowing someone, but not knowing them?” He asks you suddenly. “You and I, we’ve known each other for years. You were Sarah’s teacher, and she talked about you all the time – her last teacher – and I felt like I knew you, even though I didn’t really, not in a way that mattered, not in the way I would have liked, if I’m bein’ honest, but we knew each other peripherally. And I wanted you, all that time ago,” he laughs a boyishly shy little huff of laughter interrupting the rush of his confessed words, the crests of his cheeks flushing bright, “In that way you want someone you don't know but see all the time and want to know better. And now, it’s like… like we’re meeting again for the first time, but in a different way, in a way we’ve never met before, and yet you know so much about me already. You knew my daughter, spent time with her, you cared about her – it’s… I don’t really know what it is I’m trying to say, to be honest. I’m sorry.” He shakes his head, another unsurely shy laugh, and you reach out to set your hand softly on his knee, rubbing the thick, muscular ball of it. It’s okay, you nod and shake your head at him at the same time. Confused also, with what you’re trying to convey, but knowing you want him to continue anyway. “You knew me before in a different way, and I’m not that man anymore. And I don’t know who I am now, or I’m beginning to relearn, but I’m not there just yet,” He trails off, and then softly: “Have you ever not known yourself?”

You tilt your chin slowly, watching the slow rove of the leftover tequila in the glass as you roll the base of it along the grain of the bar. “I’m… I’m not sure. Would it be very naive or arrogant or shallow to say, no? That I’ve always known myself, that even when I was lost or afraid, I was still certain of who I was, or at the very least, who I wanted to be? Like… like sometimes when you’re uncertain of the next step, or– or of what it is that you want to do next, but you still know the direction, maybe? Or what ending you’d like?” You give a brief huff of laughter, not really meaning to laugh, but expelling the air anyway, glancing down at where you’re still gripping his knee. He lays his own large paw over your much finer hand, calluses on his palm that you can feel on the back of your knuckles. “I think now we’re both, maybe, not making sense. But I think that sometimes happiness is only the peripheral thought, the peripheral ending, like obviously we all always want to end up happy. I was always open to the journey, open to the different avenues my life could take, but all I’ve ever wanted was for me and Anna, and then later, Ellie, to be okay, to be happy. Nothing else matters after that. The way I get there, the way I’d make it happen never mattered. Only that, in the end, we’re okay.”

“No… I know exactly what you mean.” His brow caves in on itself, “I know exactly what you mean because I failed at that. That was all I ever wanted too, and look at what I ended up with. She’s gone, I failed her.”

“But you didn’t, Joel,” you say with all the fervor you can pull from your heart, all the certainty you absolutely know that he’s wrong with. You bring your other hand to his other knee, leaning forward to make absolutely sure he’s understanding. “You can’t honestly say that. You’re right, I did know her, and that little girl was an exceedingly happy child. If anything, you were nothing but a triumph, and you need to hold on to that, and think of it every single day for the rest of your life. You were triumphant in that girl. Never forget it.  There is not even a shadow of failure in the memory of that child and the life she led.” And this does not seem like the appropriate environment to be having such a conversation, but you push on. His hand tightens over yours almost painfully, his blunt rough nails digging into your soft skin. “When she died – was she scared? Or peaceful?”

“She was so fucking brave,” he chokes. “She was so fucking brave. There wasn’t an ounce of fear in that heart. I’d swallowed all of it. I’d swallowed all the fear either of us could ever carry. She’s the one that held me while I fell to pieces. While I lied through my fucking teeth and told her it would be okay, that I’d be okay, that she could rest, she could go. And held me and tried to soothe me and told me she’d see me again one day, but not too soon. Eight years old, dying and comforting her father, cracking jokes. She was so fucking brave, and I’d promised her that we’d both be – that we’d both have courage and both get out of it, and in the end, I ended up being nothing but a goddamn liar.” And there are tears in his eyes, and maybe you shouldn’t and maybe you’re overstepping and maybe it’s the alcohol, but you lean forward in your barstool, that boldness and that desperation and that sadness pushing you along so that your knees are sliding further between his spread thighs to wrap your arms around his neck to hug him tightly to yourself, and he buries his face in the crook of your neck, big hand coming up to cup the back of your head. 

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, even though you know the words are redundant. Even though he’s probably heard them an antagonizing amount of times. You are so sorry, and you have to tell him that you wish you could help him in some other way, that he’d not have to bear this alone, that he’d never have had to live it at all. I’m so sorry, Joel. I’m sorry that you lost your daughter, and I’m sorry you’re alone now, and I’m sorry we didn’t know each other better before, but maybe we can know each other now. I’d like to know you now more than anything else.

You feel the rattle of his wide back as he takes in a shaky breath, and you slide your hand soothingly up the broad expanse to tangle in the curls at the nape of his neck. 

“I’m sorry,” he laughs wetly into the warm space beneath your jaw, rolling his forehead against your shoulder, “I’m killing the mood,” and you feel the wet press of lips to the soft spot beneath your ear, right at the vulnerable hollow. Your heart stutters, and you shiver a syrupy sweet little jitter down the line of your vertebrae in the clutch of his arms, letting your head fall to the side to open yourself further to him, you smell good, whispered into your skin, but the two of you are sitting at the center of the crowded bar, industriously dedicated patrons hooting and hollering around you, and you can feel Anna’s nosey gaze zeroed into the back of your head so you pull away, letting your hand on the back of his head drag around along the edge of his jaw, fingernails pulling through the soft whiskers of his beard so that you can feel the snick, snick, snick of each bristle beneath your nail. 

“Let’s go outside,” you whisper, made only of boldness and desperation and want now. Wetness pooling at the center of you. 

He pulls back, and his hand slides to grip your jaw in his wide, rough hand. The architecture of you feels inconsequential and without strength or steel in his grasp. “For what?” Voice serious but also knowing, also provoking. 

“I wanna kiss you.” Might as well be honest now that you’ve got his hands on you.

“I think that if we go out there, I’m gonna do more than just kiss you. You prepared for that?”

“Yes, let’s go,” and you’re already pulling him out of his barstool before the words are even fully out. His hand goes to your elbow to steady you as your feet meet the ground, and you can’t help but give him a small laugh. “Are you okay?” Just making sure.

“Yeah, I’m okay, sweetheart. Are you?” His gaze is so warm. 

“Yes.” And you can’t help but smile widely up at him. He gives you a huff of laugh through a half crooked smile that looks a little bit like the sliver of the moon when it’s nothing but a silver crescent in the sky, hand wrapping entirely around your bicep to tug you closer. You feel a little bit out of control when you slide your hand over his belly, and his eyes go immediately dark and molten, rubbing slowly up his chest. He makes a deep, rough sound, low in his throat. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.” He pulls you along behind him, and as you’re making your way together out the door, you hear the sound of Anna whooping and whistling loudly behind you right before the bar door slams shut. 

He tugs you along behind him, and then passes you gently in his hands to walk in front of him as he weaves through the crowded parking lot, his wide chest, smoldering hot through his clothes, pressed up against your back, big hands wrapped around the soft of your hips. You feel him nosing into the curtain of your hair, smelling you and humming appreciatively, and you realize that he’s steering you towards the back of the parking lot, his familiar truck tucked into the far dark corner, and you twist, suddenly, in his arms, walking backwards and reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck. His hands go to the small of your back, bunching your dress in his hands tightly so that you feel the humid night air against the uppermost backs of your thighs. The look in his eyes is so dark, so wanting, and he presses you tight against his chest, your breasts squished up against the hard planes of him. He’s not even looking where he’s going, and your feet are barely touching the ground anymore as you tiptoe backwards, guided by his embrace. One of his hands comes up to grip the curve of your jaw, and then you feel the side of the truck against your back. He hoists you higher up towards his mouth, “I’m going to kiss you now,” he says, and before you can even think about saying yes, yes, please, finally, he’s swallowing your breath in his mouth, eyes still slightly open to watch you as he does it, pushing his tongue into the wet gleam of you to taste everything you so desperately want to offer him. He nips at your full bottom lip, then laps at it soothingly, and you moan for him, head falling back on your neck to open further for him, cradled now in the palm of his hand. Your hands smooth down the sides of his neck and then curl to scrape your nails down his stomach, and he groans into you, one thick thigh shoving between your knees. One of his palms slides over your hip to grip the curve of your ass, the other coming up, gentle yet unyielding, to circle your throat and tip your chin up to him as he pulls back to look down at you. The hand on your ass tips your pelvis into his and pulls your core along the broad expanse of his thigh so that your pussy slowly rides the hard muscle, once, twice. “Joel–” you gasp. 

“Back seat,” he orders, tugging the truck door open and hoisting you inside. Are you really about to let this man fuck you in the back seat of his truck in a crowded parking lot? Yes, yes, you are. He follows in after you, and then slams the door shut behind him, encasing the both of you in this quiet, paused moment before he’s pulling you forward to straddle his lap, spreading his legs wide to widen your own stance perched atop him. You listen to the sound of your panting breaths as he runs his hands over your curves, squeezing and kneading as he goes, and you plant your palms on his strong chest, smoothing them down over his belly, reaching the line of his belt to tuck them inside, he growls low, leans forward to lick at your throat and you feel the tug of his fingers at the tie of your wrap dress, then the pull of the fabric as he bares you for his eyes. You pop the first few buttons of his shirt as his wet mouth moves down the thrumming line of your neck, over the wing of your clavicle to the tops of your breasts where he pulls back to take you in. You’re wearing a soft pink lace bra and a matching thong, and as his eyes move down the length of you, the fire already smoldering within seems to ricochet up to a burning inferno. There is something about the look in his eyes, compared to before, compared to the usual look, that is even more thrilling than just the fact of him gazing upon your naked body. He’s always so serious, melancholy and sad and straightforward, in a way. But taking him in like this, the way he’s looking at you now like he wants nothing more than to devour you, to push inside of you, it makes it all the headier. “Fuckin’ gorgeous, look at you,” he murmurs, smoothes his hand over your breasts, thumb catching and flicking at your nipple, down the soft swell of your belly, stopping at the little bow at the front of your thong. He pushes the sleeve of your dress over one shoulder and tugs you forwards, you feel him lift the back of your dress over the curve of your bottom, his hand following the path of bared skin, taking in the tiny scap of lace disappearing between your asscheeks, and he makes a breathy, desperate sound, “Where the fuck are the rest of your panties, little girl?” He pinches the lush of your ass, smoothes his hand down and around to cup you between your legs, and you’re sure he can feel the soaking wet there because you listen to the sound of his gasp, and then he’s pressing there, seeking out your clit and rolling gentle circles to the swollen, throbbing nub. You run your hands up his chest into his hair, gripping there, pressing your nose into the thick curls to take in the scent of him and then running them down the heavy swell of his biceps. He’s so masculine, hard in all the places you’re soft, and wet, for him. His other hand grips your hip to pull you closer, rolling you onto the thick line of his erection, and oh God, he’s big. You can tell just like this, thick and long. Your hand moves to his belt buckle, pulling at the leather and the zipper of his jeans, and then you’re slipping your fingers beneath his boxers and wrapping around the thick heft of him. “Jesus, fuck–” he gasps. 

You fist him tightly, squeezing at the thick root of his cock and sliding up to the fat head to twist there gently. His fingers move beneath the line of your panties, finally making contact with your bare skin. 

“Fucking wet little cunt. Shit, you’re soaked for me, baby.” All you can do is moan as you pull him out of his jeans. He’s heavy in your palm and your mouth waters as you take in the sight of his big cock. Thick and long, wide, drooling head an angry red verging on purple. He hooks the gusset of your panties to the side and slides the underside of the shaft through your swollen lips, pressing the fat tip to your clit, and then sliding along your slit to catch softly at your opening. “Joel, please–” you moan. The head of his cock catches again and again, and you’re so wet, coating his thick length in your slick. He reaches to pull both cups of your bra down, exposing your breasts to his gaze and when his mouth latches onto one peaked nipple, sucking sharply, his other hand wrapping around the heavy weight of your other breast you cry out, fingernails digging into his thick shoulders. You use your grip on his shoulders to drag yourself along the length of his shaft while he sucks and nips at your breasts, pulling back to gently slap the full side of one, sending a jerking shiver through you while he watches how it jiggles and sways for him. “Shit, you’re too fuckin’ pretty,” he groans, and you’re about to come just from this, just the feeling of his thick cock sliding through the lips of your sex, and you tell him so, wet mouth presses to the arch of his ear, you tell him you’re about to come, but he changes the angle, presses his hips up and then the tip of his cock is breaching the dripping mouth of your cunt, stretching you wide to take him and you both pant and gasp, burying your face in his neck as one wide hand presses at the base of your spine, forcing you to take more of that impossible length. You feel the pinch and snap of your thong around your hips as he rips the scrap of lace off of you, and you think you must shake your head or something, make some soft sound because he tuts his tongue in a gentle reprimand, “All of it, baby. The whole thing.” He squeezes your breast, strums at your nipple, presses a feather light kiss to the hinge of your jaw, and you feel your cunt flutter around him, sucking him deeper so that he can wedge that thick cock further inside of you. “Yeah… Fuck, yeah. Just like that, good girl. You asked for this, sweet girl.” You hitch and sob into his neck, clawing at his shoulders as he finally forces you down all the way onto him, buried balls deep in your weeping, fluttering pussy. “Now you’ve gotta take the whole thing, no cryin’” He sounds like he’s spitting the words through clenched teeth, struggling to get them out despite the demand of them. “You’re doing so good,” he whispers, “Taking my big cock in this tiny little cunt.” He kisses your ear, your throat, pulls back to suck on your nipples, all while his hands on your ass start to rock you on his length, working you loose and wet and pliant. 

“Fuck– fuck, Joel–” 

“I know, I know, it’s so much, isn’t it? But you can take it– deep breath, you can take it.” He fucks up into you, holding your hips steady as he feeds you his cock over and over again, and you drip down onto his balls and the leather seat beneath. “Does that feel good, sweet girl? Tell me–”

“It’s so– it’s so good. Wanted it so bad–” you slur, wet cheek pressed to his shoulder, you mouth at his neck, little teeth digging into the thick line of muscle so that he’s growling, thrusting up quick and a little painful into your cunt, tip punching right at your cervix. 

“Lemme see you– I’ve gotta see you,” he says suddenly and presses you back. You reach back to plant your hands on his spread knees, arching your back to present yourself to him. His gaze is almost manic, licking over your skin, your bouncing tits as he fucks up into you, the swell of your tummy glistening with a fine sheen of sweat, down finally to the place where he’s fucking in and out of your swollen, blushed cunt, stretched obscenely around the base of him. “You’re so goddamned lucky we’re in a car right now,” he growls. He jerks you back into him, both hands squeezing your ass in each palm and rolling you hard and fast onto his impaling cock, your swollen clit presses into his pelvis on every thrust in, and you feel your cunt pull tight and then go loose as you start to come around him. Yes, yes, yes, fuck, yes – just like that. His cock kissing your g-spot with every press inside. You sob into his neck, pull at his hair, scratch at his shoulders and neck as you gush around him. 

He surges up then, orgasm not entirely abated, and flips you over onto your back, laying you down on the truck’s bench. He pulls his dripping cock out of your still grasping clutch to kneel down on the floorboard, hulking form entirely too large to fit in the tight space, and drags the broad, flat of his tongue through your drenched sex, tasting the echoes and throbs of your climax, sucking your clit and your come into his mouth while you sob up into the roof of his truck. He pushes your knees up to your chest, displaying you for himself entirely and devours you. “Fuck, there ain’t enough room in this fuckin’ truck to eat your cunt the way I need to,” his accent suddenly heavier, a sharper twang cutting off the end of his words, lost to the taste of you and the feel of you and the scent of you. You lean up onto your elbows, sweaty face burning bright hot with shyness as you take in the sight of his mouth wrapped around your clit, lapping at your leaking sex. He looks up at you, reaches up to wrap one hand around your breast, one of your legs is hanging down the length of his back over his shoulder, the other hooked at the bend of his elbow to keep you open and spread wide for him, and the two of you hold gazes for a moment. His eyes flash with something… different to desire or lust, something more in tune with whatever it is that’s happening here between the two of you right now, something more than just a quick fuck. You whisper his name, and his eyes flash again, predatory and desperate, and he’s pushing up, the wet sound of his mouth unlatching from your pussy and crawling back up onto the seat bench, pressing his slick wet mouth to yours and licking into you, sloppy. “Taste–” he orders, he pulls back, fists the root of his cock and feeds it back into your gaping cunt, “That’s what it tastes like when you come for me.” His voice is a growl, something like a commandment or a promise, something else that hums beneath the mere words, something that says this is happening again, I need this to happen again, I’ve wanted this longer than I can say. He fucks into the very end of you, and you squeeze your eyes shut, let him maneuver and manhandle you to his liking so that both of your ankles lay limply over his shoulders, pressed entirely in half for him to pound into you. 

“Open your fucking eyes,” he pants. “Look at me,” he begs. You do, and you watch a bead of sweat roll slowly down his temple, over the curve of his jaw to the point of his chin, and then drip and splash down onto the swell of your breast, seep into your skin. 

He’s so deep like this, right at the heart of you, and it hurts and it feels good and you can’t help but think about the next time already, hope that this can happen again. “Yes, Joel,” you gasp, “Please, don’t stop.”

“Yeah?” He grits, lifting one hand to hold on to the edge of the window above your head, the other gripping at your ass to pull you onto him harder. “Yeah, just like that– Taking me so well, baby. Taking the whole thing like such a good girl.” He’s so big, maybe too big, and he pounds into your cunt, forces you to take the entire thing, thick thighs bracketing your frame, cock punching at your womb over and over again. You feel cock drunk, Joel drunk, and you turn your face to press into the back of the seat crying, telling him you’re about to come again. 

“God, yes, yes, you’re such a good girl. Come on my cock again, one more time for me.” His thrusts speed up, harsher, stronger and he’s saying your name while you sob out his, while you leak around him. “Hey,” he grips your jaw, gives your head a little shake, “Hey, baby– you gotta tell me where. Where can I come? Inside? Can I come inside?” It sounds, a little bit, like he’s beginning. 

You nod your head, yes, gaze delirious, unfocused, the swell of his anchoring bicep is so thick and distracting, and you start to milk his thrusting cock inside of you, muscles squeezing tight, fluttering loose – please, please, please, come inside of me, please, I want it so bad. He groans, grits a curse, your name, something that sounds like gratitude, and then he’s filling you, thick cock kicking and jerking and spitting his come right at the mouth of your womb, inciting your own orgasm to throb again, again, harder, deeper. 

-

He drops his head to the damp crook of your shoulder, takes in the heady scent of your sweat and sex, licks a path up the side of your throat. He’s careful not to ask you to bear the full, heavy weight of him, and he pulls his hips back, shivering at the sensitive slide of his spent cock falling from your wet cunt. He sits back, grasps your knees to keep you spread and watches the flutter and clench of your hole as the thick white leak of his spend starts to drool out of you. He gives a low, appreciative hum, and then bends forwards to press his face into your tummy, nuzzling there softly. Your hands come to his hair, panting chest heaving, and he mouths and sucks at the skin of your stomach, the undersides of your breasts as you both catch your breaths. He looks up, then, suddenly, a thought occurring to him, “You’re going to have dinner with me, right?” Voice a little frantic. 

You give him a slow, lovely smile, eyes sparkling, “Think we’ve gone and done things a little out of order here, haven’t we?”

He frowns in mock severity, then presses his face back into your tummy, another soft kiss, and shakes his head slowly, “No,” another kiss, this one to your hip, “Not at all. This morning counts as breakfast together.” He looks up to give you a quick, boyish grin. “How I see it, that’s actually an extreme dedication to order. Breakfast, sex, dinner.”

You sigh, laugh softly, “You know… I’m actually a little hungry right now,” you say contemplatively.

“Burgers? Fries?”

“Milkshake?”

“Well, we’ve gotta have somethin’ to dip ‘em in, right?”

“Of course.” Your fingers twist in his hair, pulling him up towards your mouth, “You’re so smart.”

“Very true. You’ve gotta stick with me now, I’ll teach you everything I know.” A kiss, another and another. 

He rests his face back on your belly, looking up at you, and you run the pad of your thumb over the fan of his lashes, and he feels so happy. 

-

It’s been months since then… and still even now, when he looks at you, all he knows is that he’s sure you saved his fucking life. 

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The Deal (I Can’t Go Inside)

Show Me How (To Love) Chapter 2

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Synopsis: The time has come for you to head to the Lee residence and start your new life as Bada’s fiancée. Hope you can handle the pressure!

Note: Any pictures used are for aesthetic purposes only, and aren’t indicative of the reader’s body type/race. Any relations to real people and events are purely coincidental.

Tw: Physical abuse, cursing, unrealistic depictions of sleepwalking

Word Count: ~10.4k

When you come to yourself, you find yourself staring out the window, the morning rays of sunlight shining in your eyes. Looking down, you see your phone in your hand, unplugged and low on battery. 6:42 am is the time, long before your door is ever unlocked. Letting out a sigh, you plug your phone back up, your back, hand, and wrist stiff from the lack of movement.

You wonder how long you were sitting like that, out of it and ruminating. Your eyes feel heavy, and with every blink they sting from the lack of sleep. All you can do is groan as you lay back down, rubbing your eyes is frustration. You can already tell that you aren’t going to fall back asleep, but your body feels so heavy that you can’t move even an inch more.

So, you lay there.

You lay there as the sky outside gets brighter and brighter. You lay there as you hear the bustling of people outside. You lay there as your stomach growls, reminding you that you barely ate the night prior, and now you’re craving an orange.

Thinking about the night before only gives you a headache, realization kicking in about your entire situation.

You’re getting married. The revelation hits you like a truck. You’re getting married in the place of your sister, and you know nothing of what’s to come. You don’t want this marriage, by any means, but knowing that your parents’ lives are on the line makes you suck it up and go along with it –as if you have a choice–.

Soon enough, you hear the click of your doorknob as it unlocks, and you sit up in bed before your mother enters.

She immediately frowns as she looks at you. “What are you still doing in bed? Get up, now!” She says as she taps her foot on the ground, key to your room door in hand.

You listen to her, body sluggish. Your feet meet the hard floor instead of your house slippers, which confuse you, as you always put your house slippers in the same place by your bed before you sleep. You look around the room, seeing one of your shoes by the door, and the other by the closet.

You were walking around last night, you realize, internally sighing as you move to grab your shoes and your outfit for the day. You put your slippers on as you walk to your bathroom and shut the door. Your forehead meets the door, and you like the way it feels against your warm skin.

Fuck, you can’t handle this right now. You can’t handle any of this.

“Calm down, calm down, calm down,” you whisper to yourself, “You’re alright, you just need to get through this and then you’ll be alright.” You don’t have time to calm yourself down further, as your mother’s voice cuts through your ears.

“Choi (Y/n), hurry up! Do not keep us waiting.”

You push away from the door, moving to get ready. One look into the mirror shows your disheveled and tired state, and you wonder if Bada will turn you away as soon as you appear in front of her.

The long, dark maxi dress and long sleeve shirt you have on underneath hides your body well, but you hope your mother doesn’t think it’s too revealing.

You leave the bathroom and face your mother, waiting for her to give you an order.

“Come here,” she says, and you obey, stepping closer, but keeping a bit of distance between you two. Your mother grabs your wrist, pulling you closer, and you let out a gasp at how tight she’s gripping your arm. Her face is extremely close to yours, and her stern eyes bore into yours. You want to look away so bad, but she grabs your chin and makes you face her. “You will not embarrass your father and I today, do you understand me?” You nod rapidly, eyes squeezing shut at the pain. “You will not complain, you will serve Bada in any way she needs, and you will obey her.” You don’t want to protest, but you have too many worries to not say anything.

“But mother, what if she’s violent? What if she gets angry and hits–” your mother squeezes your cheeks, silencing you.

“If you upset her, fix yourself and do better. You will do whatever she wants,” she says through gritted teeth, shoving you away. “I swear, Soo Ri should’ve been the one to do this, not you.” She looks like she wants to spit on the ground you’re standing on, but she turns and walks away, leaving you to rub your cheeks with tears in your eyes.

You sniff and rub the tears out of your eyes, legs feeling weak. You look around your room, trying to gather your bearings.

Walking to your dresser, you grab your phone so you can look at your appearance in the camera. You unlock it, only for your phone to open the message app.

What you see only makes you want to break down and cry more.

On the screen are your texts to Soo Ri from last night, dozens of green messages taunting you. They start out written properly, showing clarity in your actions.

‘Hi, my lovely unnie.’

‘Where are you.’

‘Come home.’

‘I hope you’re sleeping well.’

But as you continue to read them, they become short, unintelligible, with terrible grammar and no structure. In between the key smashes and word vomit, you can read a few things.

‘Scared’

‘Please’

‘Send away’

One text catches your eye, however.

‘Don’t let the cat get you’

Memories rush to the forefront of your mind, clouding your vision. Glass breaking, screaming, the feeling of suffocating into your pillow, beady yellow eyes staring up at you.

You feel your breathing getting harsher and harsher, phone dropping out of your hand as you stumble down, eyes darting everywhere.

You feel your heart beating faster and faster, threatening to pop out of your chest.

You try to dig your nails into your palms, trying to ground yourself back to reality, but you are quickly slipping away.

You hear yourself sobbing, you feel the tears slide down your cheeks, you feel the pounding in your head as you try and grab onto anything to calm you down.

You are so, so stupid, you tell yourself. You don’t deserve anything.

When you come to, you’re curled into yourself, arms close to your chest and tears pooling below you.

You faintly hear your parents’ voices downstairs through your open door, and it snaps you out of your thoughts.

“Thank you so much for escorting our daughter. I was up all night worrying about her journey to the Lee residence,” you hear your mother speak, using the tone she reserved for speaking with guests. It’s time for you to go.

You quickly get up, grabbing your phone and charger shoving them in your purse. You rush into the bathroom, wiping your face with water and fixing your hair. You plant a smile on your face and grab your suitcase –you had shoved all of your shoes into one suitcase the night before, thinking two would be too much– and your box, walking out of your room without looking back.

You walk down the stairs slowly, hands shaking. Once you make it to the bottom of the stairs, your mother’s voice gets louder.

“She’s always been a little more reserved, and she doesn’t really eat much unless prompted, so please don’t let her stay to herself and neglect her needs. And oh! She really likes to eat beef as well, and she doesn’t really like sweets, and she gets cold really easily too.” With the way your mother is rambling, she comes across as a caring, concerned mother, and no one will guess that she had just admonished you earlier.

You’re not sure you want them to.

“Oh honey, (y/n) will be fine. She’s a big girl and you should trust that she’ll be ok,” your father says, voice kinder than you’ve ever heard before.

“I know, but she’ll always be my baby,” your mother sounds close to tears, and you wonder how long this performance will last.

Well it’s not like you aren’t performing as well, so you might as well match their energy.

“Mother, father, I’m ready,” you say as you arrive near the door, where your parents are standing with another woman, or girl, you should say. She has a very cute face, round cheeks and burgundy colored hair. But her clean suit, cold face and tall posture made her look older than she seemed to be. You place your box on the floor next to you and flex your fingers.

You bow to the girl in front of you, and she bows back.

“(Y/n), this is Sowoen, and she will be escorting you to Ms. Lee’s home,” your father says, adjusting the glasses on his face. You nod in acknowledgement.

Your mother starts to sniffle, holding your cheeks in her hands, much gentler than earlier.

“Oh, how you’ve grown. I remember when you first came to us like it was yesterday. And now you’re getting married,” she pulls you close to her in a hug, and you fight the urge for your body to freeze. “Don’t fuck this up,” she whispers in your ear, and squeezes you harder. You put your arms up to hug her back, though you feel awkward doing so.

When was the last time you hugged your mother?

“Ok honey, you have to let her go now,” your father says as he separates your mother from you. Your father doesn’t hug you, but he does hold your hands in his.

His touch makes your skin crawl.

“Please, stay safe my dear. Know that you will always have a home here,” he says, his voice soft. You just nod again, trying your hardest to keep the smile on your face. You pull away from him first, wrist still hurting from earlier.

You go to grab your stuff, but Soweon steps in before you could. She grabs your suitcase and box with ease, and you feel embarrassed at having her do the work for you. You also don’t want her to see how little you have.

“Is this all, Miss?” Soweon asks you, and you can only nod silently, hands itching to grab the load off her hands.

A maid holds the door for the both of you, and you don’t look back at your parents as you follow behind your escort, though you can feel their gazes burn into your back. You can’t help but shiver.

~~~

The ride to Bada’s home is uncomfortably silent. You want to speak to try and break the awkwardness, but nothing comes out. Plus, Soweon’s tight grip on the steering wheel and her eyes locked forward is probably a hint for you to keep quiet.

She must be mad at you, you think as you fidget with your hands, for not being the one her boss wanted to marry.

You lock eyes with her in the rear view mirror, and quickly look away, mind going far.

To get to the Lee mansion requires one to go through large gates flanked with security, who quickly lets the car pass once Soweon shows her ID and they do a quick check in the trunk of the car, which makes you nervous.

Soweon drives the car down the pathway, and into a cul de sac, where at the end sits the Lee mansion, your new place of residence.

Your heart beats loudly in your chest as you stare at the utterly huge mansion in front of you.

You’re living here? Even your parents’ vacation homes aren’t this big!

You’re scared to see what it’s like on the inside. Maybe you can just live in the car and you won’t have to see Bada ever!

No, that’s ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous. You’d need to pee at some point.

Before you know it, your hand is reaching for the door only for it to miss as the door swings open, Sowoen looking at you expectedly as she stands on the other side.

“O-Oh…” you stutter as you stare at her in bewilderment. You must’ve been keeping her waiting for too long. “Sorry,” you apologize, stepping out of the car. You don’t notice Sowoen’s hand held out to help you out of the car, looking towards the trunk for your belongings.

“I’ve got it, Miss,” Sowoen speaks up, taking your things out of the trunk for you. You continue to stare at her in confusion.

“You… you don’t have to do that. I can do it…” you say as you reach for the suitcase, but Soweon only pulls it away from you.

“It’s alright, Miss. It’s my job,” is all she says before walking towards the mansion steps.

“But, but, they’re my things. I don’t want to have you do all of the work,” you try and say, trying to catch up with her quick steps. “Can I at least hold the box, please?” You ask, clasping your hands together. “There’s a lot of important things in there to me,” which isn’t exactly a lie, but it would still be better just to hold it.

Soweon sighs, which causes you to think that you’re probably being a bit annoying, so you take a step back from her and place your hands by your side.

“Here,” she says, holding the box out to you. You blink, but quickly move to grab the box from her hold before she changes her mind.

“Thank you…” you whisper, following her up the stairs without another word.

The inside of the mansion is just as grandiose as the outside. Bright lights and long halls leading to who knows where. You could see the giant glass chandelier hanging from the high ceiling if you tip your head back far enough. There isn’t a spec of dust as far as your eyes can see –which, frankly, isn’t far–. To the sides you can see stairs leading to the second floor. You wonder how many rooms there are in this whole place. There has to be at least thirty, right?

A maid greets you both with a respectful bow and you bow back, although Sowoen doesn’t.

“Shall I take this to your room, Miss?” She says, holding out her hands expectedly. You clutch the box closer to you, not wanting to give the maid all of your load like you did to Sowoen.

“Miss, we’re going to be seeing the boss first, so it’s best you put your stuff down,” Soweon says, nodding towards the maid. You look at her hesitantly. You could just take the stuff to your room directly, but you don’t want to keep Bada waiting, so you reluctantly give the box to the maid, flexing your hands awkwardly once she took it away.

You follow Sowoen down the hall, keeping an eye on the back of her burgundy head. Your heart beats hard in your chest as you stop by a large wooden door with a very antique gold door knob. Sowoen knocks on the door, and opens it when she’s given permission to enter. You hesitantly follow behind her, blurry gaze landing all over the room.

You enter into an office, one bigger than you’ve ever seen. Near the wall in front of you sits a desk, full of stacks of paper and pens, and two small chairs in front of it. Against the other two walls are dark green sofas, with a small, glass coffee table to the side of each. Everything in here looks expensive, even the rug you’re standing on, it only makes you even more nervous.

Standing in front of the desk is none other than your fiancée, tall and intimidating, just like the day you first met. On the couches sit multiple other women, though you don’t know who they are.

Bada’s face is neutral, nary an emotion can be gathered from her gaze, hands clasped in front of her. Hands that could hurt you at any moment…

‘You will not complain, you will serve, and you will obey her’, your mothers words repeat in your head as Bada stares down at you.

Remember, you tell yourself, this woman can kill you and your family at any moment, so maybe listening to your mother will be wise.

You bow to Bada, eyes kept to the floor, waiting for her to address you.

“How was your trip,” her voice is deep, resounding throughout the room and bouncing off of your ears.

“It was fine,” you manage to say without stuttering, hands gripping your dress. You still don’t look at her, but rise anyway. “Thank you for having someone escort me here,” you say. You hope it scores you half a point for your respectfulness.

“This will be your home now,” Bada starts, voice still level. “So there are a few things you must know, especially since your parents did not inform you of a single thing prior to our meeting on Friday. I’m assuming that is still the case, correct?” You wince, feeling all of your hopes of them sparing your family’s lives being shredded to bits. You feel a lot of eyes burning into your back and elect to keep your head down.

Should you be honest and just say yes? Will lying spare your family even just a little.

“Choi (y/n), I asked you a question.” Despite the authoritative nature in her voice, it was still the same tone and pitch she spoke in moments earlier. It made you push lying out of your mind.

“That’s… that’s correct.” You’re going to pass out any second now. If you beg her to kill you, will they spare your parents' lives? Soo Ri’s?

“I see. While you are here, your safety is one of the top priorities for both my team, Bebe, and I,” that is, until you piss her off and she kills everyone you’ve ever loved. “You must follow the rules set in place to ensure your safety, understood?” You nod, staying silent. “One, you will never walk around without a bodyguard, ever. There’s too many risks out in the world for you to walk around without one. Sowoen here will be filling in that role for now.” You don’t know if you should feel relieved that it’s at least a somewhat familiar face or not. Bada continues, holding up two fingers.

“Two, you must not lie to me, ever. I despise liars, and you seem to come from a family of them.” You wince again, squeezing the wrist your mother grabbed earlier. The pain brings you back down to Earth. “I will not spare you if I find out you’re lying to me.” You can only nod, voice not coming out properly.

Bada holds up a third finger, “Finally, this is simply a business deal, so I expect you to act accordingly to fulfill the terms of the contract that you and your parents agreed upon, understood?”

You agreed to the contract? Since when? What did you agree to, you can only wonder. Maybe Bada took your begging for your family’s lives as an agreement. Yes, that must be what it is.

“Y-Yes, I understand, Ms. Lee,” you finally manage to say.

“These are all of the members of my team,” you turn around to face the women on the couches, and Soweon, who sits on the couch to your left. “To your left are the junior members. Soweon, whom you’ve met already, Minah,” Bada points to a girl with black hair, “and Cheche,” she points to a girl with orange hair. Their eyes bore into your figure, as if they’re studying you, waiting for you to slip up, which you will most likely do soon.

Bada gestures to your right, “These are the senior members. Their word takes precedence over the junior ones, so what they say goes first.” You nod again. The gazes of these women feel a bit more hostile, but you couldn’t tell from the lack of emotions on their faces. “This is Tatter,” she points to a woman with light blonde hair, “Kyma,” a woman also with blonde hair, but a shorter face, “and Lusher, my second in command. If I am not here, you listen to her. Are we clear?”

“Yes, we’re clear.” You repeat obediently.

“Good, Sowoen will give you a tour of the residence, and will help you get settled in. And here,” you turn to her, and she holds out a black credit card. You blink at it, then look up at her for the first time since you’ve entered. “Use this for anything you need. There’s a lot of money on here, so do not worry about it running out of funds anytime soon,” she says, card held loosely in her hands.

You aren’t receiving an allowance? That’s… confusing. You thought everyone received an allowance from the head of the household.

“Take it,” Bada says flatly.

Don’t complain, serve, and obey.

You blink again at the card, gently grabbing the edge from her as if it were a foreign object.

“Thank you, Ms. Lee.” You grip the card in your hands to make sure it’s real.

“You are dismissed,” Bada says, and Soweon holds the door for you as you leave. You bow to Bada and the girls before you go down the hallway, Soweon following behind you.

Bada sits down on her chair, sighing.

“Do you trust her?” Lusher asks, breaking the silence in the room.

“I don’t need to,” Bada says, picking up a piece of paper and a pen. “As long as she does what she was brought here to do, I don’t really care whether or not she’s trustworthy. That’s for you all to figure out.” She taps her pen on the counter. “Alright, here are your tasks for the week. Cheche, fill Soweon in later,” Bada states before starting their meeting.

~~~

The Lee mansion is too big for your liking. Dozens of bedrooms, a cozy living room, giant catering kitchens, a library, a theater room, a tennis court, a gym, a ballroom, and apparently, a giant garden somewhere else on the property. You’re getting overwhelmed at Soweon’s explanations as you pass the giant pool. There’s even a fucking jacuzzi in the corner of the pool.

As you stare down at the water moving with the slight breeze, you imagine yourself under the surface, holding your breath until it hurts, eyes staring at the sky above you.

You wish you hadn’t been told about the pool, you think. You feel like you’ll be coming here often in your sleep, whether you like it or not.

“Miss,” you hear Soweon call you. You tear your eyes away from the pool to look at her. “Shall we end the tour here?” She asks, with a tilt of her head. She must be tired of talking to you. It’s best to listen to her and end the tour.

You nod, and follow her to a bedroom.

“The boss has prepared this room for you, but you can change anything around as you please,” Soweon says, never passing the threshold of your room. You look around, taking in the large queen sized bed in the middle of the room, the white vanity to the left and the giant walk-in closet to the right, along with a desk by a giant window.

You wonder if you can ask them to bolt it shut for you. Would you sound insane? Is that a normal request for someone to have? You really aren’t sure.

“Please let me know if you need anything, Miss,” Sowoen says to you, and you nod.

Sowoen bows to you as she goes to shut the door, and you bow back. Once the door’s shut, you let out the deep breath you were holding, but you still feel no relief. Instead, you feel as if you’re suffocating. You’re now in the lion’s den, and one wrong move could mean you and your whole family being torn to shreds.

You look at the door, noticing the lock on the inside. You’d be able to lock and unlock your door with ease. That fact scares you.

To distract yourself from the thousands of worries in your head, you start to unpack your suitcase, finding your closet already filled with hangers for you, which you appreciate, though most of them are left unused because of your lack of clothes, but oh well.

You go to unpack your box, opening it up with a key on your wallet. Only for you to end up putting it down because you become face to face with that porcelain cat. The cat that you thought you left in the nightstand at home.

Its yellow eyes pierce into your teary ones, mocking you, reminding you of all of your mistakes, and when you pick it up, your skin crawls, the scar on your back burning once more.

You put it in the nightstand dresser and hope you forget about its location later.

You continue to unpack your items, tears in your eyes.

When you’re done, you place your house slippers on the floor by your bed, and crawl under the covers.

Exhaustion is catching up with you, you’re hungry, you’re craving an orange.

You decide to sleep.

~~~

Sowoen’s days have been very uninteresting lately. Instead of the hustle and bustle of her normal, everyday life, doing reports, following her seniors around as they worked, testing out different types of poisons on others (and herself in secret), she has spent the last few weeks watching her boss’ new fiancée.

Bada says it’s to teach her responsibility as the youngest, and she is grateful for the opportunity. However, she is just… just so, so bored.

Every morning at 5 am, she wakes up and goes to stand at your door at 6, and hears you wake up around 8:30. You don’t open the door for a while, sometimes for hours, until Sowoen wonders when you’re going to eat something, and knocks on the door.

You look bewildered every time she opens it, like the action is unusual or something, even when you tell her to come in with a confused voice. Sowoen doesn’t really care as to why you think it’s weird, only wanting you to not starve to death and have Bada be disappointed in her, so she asks if you’re going to eat something.

The first few days here you ate a proper meal, but after that, you just ate oranges. And then you would retreat back into your room, until it was time for dinner, where you would eat a proper meal at 9. Then at 10:00, you turn in for the night. She would stay outside your room for a few more hours, just in case you need her again, but at 1am she goes to her room to sleep –she’s already used to getting little to no sleep, so there’s no issue with that–.

It’s just weird. Of course she should mind her business. You being quiet and not stirring up trouble is a good thing. However, Sowoen doesn’t trust you. She may be slightly –curious isn’t the right word, maybe wary?– about your skittish behavior and notes the familiarity in your actions, but she doesn’t trust you, or your family. Your family lied to Bada, and that is something that cannot be forgiven. Who knows what else you’re lying about.

And on top of all that, Sowoen is just bored. She’s so, so bored.

Even when she listens through the door –not actively but just generally listening out for sounds– she doesn’t hear you moving at all. No music playing, no talking on the phone, not even singing to yourself. Are you in solitary confinement or something?

At times like this she wishes she had Kyma’s scary hearing ability, at least so she can see if you’re alive or not. She could always just go in your room herself and check on you, like a bodyguard should do, but Bada also warned of giving you your privacy, a sliver of respect while you’re here.

But she cannot, in good conscience, let you isolate yourself like this.

Sowoen, always the softy, she can hear everyone saying, causing her to sigh.

“Mind your business, Sowoen, mind your business,” she whispers to herself.

Sowoen thinks of dark spaces, no room to move, aching bones and everlasting silence.

She sighs once more, turning around to knock on your door, but is stopped by a voice.

“Sowoen,” it’s Cheche, voice leveled despite the small smile on her face. It’s been a while since she’s seen the other junior members, her best friends, because she’s been stuck to your side –or rather, your door–, so it’s a surprise to see her here.

“Hi, Cheche. What’s up?” Cheche stops a little always from the door, not exactly in front of Sowoen.

“The boss wants to see you,” she says, eyes flickering to the door behind Sowoen. “I’ll watch over the Miss in your place, ok?”

Sowoen is hesitant, not wanting abandon the job Bada assigned her to do.

“Here,” Cheche says, holding out her hand, a hand that holds Bada’s family ring. The request is legitimate, not just a trick to test Sowoen to see if she’s doing her job. It’s also unrefusable –not that she can or would ever refuse Bada anyways–.

Sowoen nods, taking that ring and holding it tightly in her hand, stepping aside so Cheche can take her place.

The walk to Bada’s office isn’t a long one, but she is curious about why Bada wants to see her. She’s been doing her job correctly as far as she knows. You’re still alive, maybe not healthy, but you’re alive!

She makes it to Bada’s office, knocking six times to let Bada know it’s her.

“Come in,” Bada says, and Sowoen enters, giving Bada a slight bow.

“Morning, boss,” Sowoen greets her, holding out her ring for her to take, which she does.

“Morning. Have a seat,” Bada gestures to one of the chairs in front of her desk, and she sits. Bada is sitting behind her desk, in her pressed suit and glasses low on her face. She taps her pen on the desk as she looks at Sowoen.

“What’s your assessment of her?” Bada asks, referring to you. The question comes as a bit of a surprise to Sowoen, as she didn’t expect Bada to ask her about you, nor care enough about you to ask. Though she figures that it’s a matter of just keeping tabs on you, which she did expect Bada wanted. “You can speak honestly. There will be no penalty for doing so.” Despite saying that phrase plenty of times before, Bada always makes sure to reassure her, and for that, Bada has Sowoen’s trust.

“If I’m being honest, there really isn’t much to say,” Sowoen starts, picking at her nails but still looking Bada in the eyes. “She doesn’t do much at all. She doesn’t leave her room much, only to eat, and she barely does that,” Bada’s expression doesn’t change at that information, so Sowoen can’t gather what she’s feeling. “When she’s in her room, I really don’t know what she’s doing, I really can’t hear anything when she’s in there,” Sowoen furrows her eyebrows. “Not that I’m intentionally listening on her or anything. I want her to have privacy, but just… y’know.” Sowoen realizes she’s rambling and closes her mouth.

“Thank you for sharing that, Sowoen.” She feels herself blush at the praise. Bada leans back in her chair. “So there’s no one she talks to? No places she likes to go?” Bada asks, clasping her hands together.

Sowoen shakes her head, “No, it’s like she isolated herself. No calls to her parents, nor do I ever see her texting anybody either. It reminds me a lot of…” Sowoen shuts herself up, quick, not wanting to be reminded of the past,

“I see,” Bada says, understanding what Sowoen is referring to.

“But I don’t want to intrude on her life, y’know? I think it’ll be rude if I said something,” Bada nods at that.

“It’s ok to give suggestions, as long as you’re respectful, right?” Sowoen nods, not saying anything more. “Bring her over,” Bada says, and Sowoen snaps to attention.

She didn’t expect her to say that. She thought that Bada wouldn’t want to see you at all after what your parents did. But who is she to question her superior, so she gets up and goes to retrieve you.

Before she leaves, Bada calls out to her.

Her face is serious as she looks at Sowoen.

“Do you trust her?” Is all she asks.

“No, boss, I don’t.”

~~~

Your days at the Lee mansion have been very uneventful. You wake up, covered in bruises from your body hitting things in your new bedroom when you walk around at night, not used to the new layout just yet. You then wait for your door to be unlocked, but you end up waiting for hours until Sowoen knocks on your door asking if you’d want to eat breakfast, leaving you to remember that doors aren’t just generally locked all the time from the outside. You then go to eat breakfast, but you’re too nervous to keep anything down so you just eat oranges. Then, you retreat to your room and just lie there until dinner, where you sit by yourself for thirty minutes and eat a little bit of food –just like at home, but you don’t want to think about that right now–.

What else is there to do anyways? Your only source of entertainment is painting, and all of your supplies are at home. You’re too scared to walk around the mansion and explore, fearing that you’ll just end up sleepwalking to places and burdening Sowoen and Bada later on, and you don’t want to ask Sowoen or a maid to get things for you, because then you’ll feel like you’re being bossy and pretentious.

So, you just sit in your room and think.

Sometimes you read the books you brought from home, sometimes you scroll through videos on your phone, switching from app to app, but mostly, you just end up thinking.

What is your role in all of this?

Are you just an accessory? A thing to parade around to make Bada look good? But why settle for you? Why not find someone else from another family who didn’t lie to her?

Is it just to get back the money your parents owe her? If so, does that just make you a hostage?

The thought makes your throat close up in fear.

What rights did you have in this mansion? Could you go where you pleased? Or were you just stuck in this large home, waiting to be used and discarded. You’re too scared to ask, fearing Bada’s emotionless stare, or the annoyed looks from the Bebe girls.

If you’re a hostage, that means Soo Ri was also supposed to be a hostage, right? But knowing Soo Ri’s personality, you can’t imagine her settling down and taking that.

You imagined she’d come here, with her endless confidence that you’ve always envied, demanding to be treated right, and probably getting whatever she wanted, too.

But what are you supposed to do, then? Just lie there and wait for Bada to make up her mind on what she wants?

Would she take her anger out on you if she had a rough day? Would she come into your room and…

You don’t allow yourself to go down that road, mind already dredging up things from the past.

Don’t complain, serve, and obey.

You blink, remembering your mother’s words and turning over in bed, hugging a pillow to your chest.

If Bada ever does anything to you, it’s not like you have the power to fight back. You’d probably have to just cry in silence when she’s done with you, hoping that the next day will be better. Maybe if you don’t complain she’d leave your family alone.

Yeah, just think of the benefits for your parents. They’ll be able to just pay Bada back, and then be done with her while she just keeps you to the side, at her mercy. You’ll gladly be at her mercy if it means they’ll be happy.

Before you can sit in your thoughts more, there’s a knock on your door. You wait for it to open, but then remember that your door isn’t locked.

“Come…come in,” you say, the words still feeling foreign on your tongue.

The door opens and Sowoen appears, face still serious. Her hair is down today.

“Miss, the boss wishes to see you,” she says, never passing the threshold to your door.

You blink in confusion, but get up anyway.

You haven’t seen Bada since your first day here, and she has not called for you since then. Are you in trouble? Is your family in trouble? Is Bada going to kill you? Has she finally gotten sick of you? All you’ve done is stay still! You haven’t been a burden to anyone, at least you think you haven’t! Maybe you’ve unintentionally upset someone, but you swear you’ll get on your hands and knees and beg for forgiveness!

You must’ve done something wrong, you think as you walk through the halls, gripping your wrist in your hand. Bada is going to kill you. She hates you.

Too soon do you end up in front of her office, large wooden door taunting you as you raise your hand to knock on the door.

“Come in,” Bada says, voice sounding much more secure than yours. You wonder if you’ll be able to get the words out to defend yourself.

You open the door, which creaks as it moves, the sad sound announcing your presence in Bada’s clean space. The door closes behind you, and when you turn around, Sowoen isn’t there.

Which means you’re alone with Bada, for the first time. You’re alone with a woman who hates you.

You bow to her, and wait for her to give you an order, or yell at you, or do something.

“Sit,” Bada says, gesturing to the chair in front of her. You do so, without question, avoiding her gaze. You feel it burning into you, probably waiting for you to confess your wrongdoings. Maybe if you apologize first, she’ll go easy on you.

“Um, Ms. Lee,” you start, voice wavering. “I sincerely apologize for my actions, truly.” You dig your thumb in your palm, rubbing it in circles.

Bada raises an eyebrow at your words, wondering what you could’ve done. She decides to see what you’ll apologize for, and stays silent.

“I, um, I promise to do better… as, as your fiancée. I know I should have learned better from my parents, and for that I apologize… for being clueless, I mean. If it’s any consolation, I didn’t mean to upset you, but if you tell me what,” you blink rapidly, looking down at your hands, “if you’re willing to tell me what I did wrong, then I’ll be sure not to make the same mistake again…” you finish, biting the inside of your cheek.

“And what exactly are you apologizing for?” Bada asks, staring down at you despite the lack of eye contact on your part.

You start to stammer even more, “You, you called for me, so I thought… I thought I did something wrong,” you blink again, bouncing your leg. “Is it not that?” Bada watches as the gears turn in your head, trying to find an explanation for why she called you here.

“If it’s about Soo Ri and the switch, I, I sincerely apologize for that. I know that what we did isn’t forgivable, but I promise to –”

Bada silences you with a rise of her hand.

“Enough,” she says, effectively stopping your apologies. She places her pen down, never looking away from you. “What are you doing here?” She asks you, and you look up at her for the first time since you arrived. Her expression is still void of any emotions as her brown eyes look you over.

Does she think you are overstaying your welcome? Is she going to send you back home? What does that mean for the safety of your family? What will your parents think of you coming back home so early?

Don’t complain, serve, and obey.

“I… I’m here to be your fiancée,” you answer, uncertain. Bada just blinks at you.

“There’s no need to stay inside. Go, visit your parents, get groceries, go shopping for clothes, do whatever you want,” Bada orders you, and your eyebrows furrow.

She didn’t want you here, it seems, even though you thought you were behaving.

But it’s best if you don’t argue.

“For how long?” You ask for clarification, trying your hardest not to cry. Were you failing the one thing you were asked to do?

“For as long as you wish,” is all she says, writing down something on a piece of paper. It’s not an adequate answer for you, but you won’t fight her. “Sowoen will keep by you as you go, so do not try and stray too far from where it is safe.” You nod, voice failing you at the moment. “You are dismissed,” Bada says after a beat. You nod, getting up and bowing before leaving her office.

Sowoen is waiting for you at the door, closing it behind you and following you to your room. Once you get there, you turn to Sowoen, not meeting her eyes.

“Um,” you start, clearing your throat, “Ms. Lee told me to, uh, not be inside? Do you have any place I could go?” Your tone conveys your shyness, not used to talking with the woman who follows you around just yet.

Sowoen pauses, nodding her head as she thinks.

The boss must’ve seen her underline concerns, despite her attempts to hide it, and reassured you that you could go wherever you wanted.

Bada knows Sowoen better than she knows herself sometimes.

“There’s a shopping district further into the city,” Sowoen starts, “There’s a bunch of different stores you can go to, you browse around if you like.” Sowoen suggests. The stores there are all ones Bada provides protection for, so you shouldn’t be in any danger there.

You nod, entering your room to get ready.

You dress in a long black maxi skirt, and a dark blue sweater that is a little bit itchy due to it being so old, and some of your old sneakers. You need to buy new ones, but you’re waiting for you to have enough money to buy your glasses first before getting anything else. It is a bit warm outside for the outfit, but you’ve learned to tough it out.

You wouldn’t want people to get the wrong idea by you showing skin.

When you’re done getting ready, you grab your purse and your phone, opening the door and waiting for Sowoen to lead the way. She takes you to the front, and the sun hits your eyes as soon as you leave the manor, not used to the brightness after staying inside for so long.

You wait for Sowoen as she goes to get the car, warmer arm causing you to fan yourself with your hand, and walk down the steps to meet her. With each step you try not to think about what you’re going to do once you get back.

If Bada doesn’t want you to be in the manor anymore, you’re going to have to pack, right? But then where will you go? Can you even go back home? If the contract your parents signed says that you are supposed to be living with Bada, then you really can’t go back home.

Will you just be living on the streets?

You ball your hands into fists at the thought.

You couldn’t go through that. Not now, not ever.

You’d rather die.

Before you can dwell on it any further, Sowoen opens the car door for you before you can do it yourself. You blink at her in bewilderment, but she just gestures for you to get in the car. You still aren’t used to people doing things for you, but you get in the car so you don’t upset her.

The drive to the shopping district isn’t long, but it does feel longer because of the fact that your cheap headphones broke completely. The speakers blew out as soon as you turned your music on, so now that’s another expense to the list. You could only sigh as you try and wrack up how much everything you need will cost in your head.

You just didn’t have the money for any of this. You don’t even know why you’re going to shop when you still need to buy glasses and get a new eye exam. It’s all so, so stupid. But Sowoen suggested it, and you don’t want to make her or Bada mad by not listening to them.

Once you're at the shopping district, Sowoen is quick to open the door for you, and she even offers her hand to help you out of the car. You take it, hand shaking, but you can’t help the confusion that sits on your face.

“This way, Miss,” she says as you walk forward.

You follow her, looking around at the multitude of shops around you. Even in the early afternoon, there are a bunch of people walking around, and you feel Sowoen’s presence close behind you. You look around, squinting to see your surroundings. Through your blurry vision you see clothes shops, electronic stores, even a few food places here and there.

Smelling the food reminds you that you only had an orange this morning, but you decide not to dwell on the subject.

You and Sowoen walk around in silence, you peering at the shop windows once you got close but not ever going in.

That is, until you pass by an art store. Through the window you can see the warm toned lights, the tubes of paint, the fabrics and the sketch pads. You stop by the window, deciding to look upon the items for a bit longer than usual.

You haven’t painted or drawn anything since the day you met Bada, and it’s been making you antsy. You miss it, but all of your supplies are at home.

“Shall we go in, Miss?” Sowoen says, standing by the door. You blink at her –you seem to be doing that a lot today–, a bit embarrassed at being caught. But if Sowoen suggested it, you should probably listen.

You nod, walking in when Sowoen opens the door for you. You walk down the aisles, passing by yarn and crochet hooks, fabrics and needles, even canvases and desks to sit at.

When you get to the paint, you stop, staring at the Beginner’s paint tubes. There’s a lot more options than the five tubes you have at home, which excites you, even for a little bit. You have to bring them up to your eyes to see what colors they have, though, which reminds you of your much needed and lack of glasses.

Bummed that you can’t buy them, you pout and put them back.

“What about these, Miss?” Sowoen speaks up, and you look over at her. She’s over at the Professional grade paints, looking at the tubes quizzically. “The sign says that these ones last longer, and that the colors are better.”

You shake your head, a small, bitter smile on your face. “I don’t have the money for those. I was just browsing, anyways,” you say, and Sowoen blinks at you.

“Did you leave the boss’ card at home?” She asks, and you shake your head. It’s in your purse now, tucked away in your wallet.

“It’s not my money to spend,” you say as you look at a red tube of paint. “I’d feel bad about using Ms. Lee’s money to buy stuff without asking her for permission first.”

Sowoen is confused. It’s your money. Bada gave you that money to spend. She repeats this fact to you.

“The boss gave you that money to use for yourself, Miss,” Sowoen says, not understanding what you find so difficult to understand.

You bite your lip, bringing a tube of yellow paint close to your face to read the label. “I… still, I wouldn’t feel right using it. I don’t want to burden Ms. Lee more than I already have.” You put the tube back in its place, turning to face Sowoen.

Sowoen is really confused, and she feels like she’s doing a bad job at hiding that confusion on her face.

“Do you want me to… ask the boss if you can use your money?” Sowoen says it slowly, hoping that it will allow her to understand the issue you have.

You shake your head quickly. “No! I mean… no, you don’t have to do that. Ms. Lee is busy,” you nervously chuckle, as if you’re telling a joke, “Plus, I don’t think I’m allowed to have these things anyways. You know, it smells and stuff, because of the quality and stuff! And the paint can get everywhere and ruin everyone’s nice things if you aren’t careful and,” you continue to ramble, trying to pull out every excuse you had, all the while Sowoen stares at you like you have two heads.

Sowoen blinks, once, twice, as she tries to understand your reasoning. “You can just… get the higher quality paints…” Sowoen explains to you, tilting her head as she points to the paints she was looking at earlier.

“But then that’s expensive! I don’t want to waste Ms. Lee’s money on things that aren’t important!”

Sowoen is confused –no matter how many times she admits it, it doesn’t stop the confusion at every new sentence you utter–. Aren’t you rich? Why are you so frugal with money? And not in the rich and stingy way, either.

“If you enjoy it, then it’s not a waste of money…” Sowoen argues, trying her hardest to keep her voice level and clear of judgment. Keep it respectful, just like Bada said.

You tilt your head at that, as if Sowoen is talking in a foreign language. No one has ever said that to you before. Whenever you needed something, you had to earn it, and it had to be useful to you –well, your parents–. You funded your art through your own allowance, saving up for months to even buy a good easel, so that you wouldn’t burden your parents by asking for things.

But now that you don’t have an allowance, you struggle to see how you could do or buy anything. You were never allocated more than fifty-five thousand won per week, sometimes even less depending on how bad of a mood your parents were in, and so you had to scrounge by with what little you had. It meant that you had to really want what you bought. It wasn’t a lot of money, but it was your money.

To use Bada’s money just leaves a bad taste in your mouth, especially when it isn’t important to Bada that you’re entertained.

You shake your head, going to move out of the aisle when Sowoen speaks up.

“The boss said that it’s ok for you to use it, like an allowance.” You turn to Sowoen, eyes widening just a bit. It doesn’t go unnoticed by Sowoen. “That money belongs to you, no one else, and the boss will give you a certain amount of money each month for all of your needs.”

Well, Sowoen’s lying.

She doesn’t know why she’s so invested in you buying these paints. She should’ve left it alone when you said no the first time. However, your assumptions about the money Bada gave you are just wrong, and your relationship with money is so familiar to her. And this is the first time she saw you have interest in something. So the lie just slipped out, and then they kept slipping out more and more.

“You shouldn’t refuse the boss’ generosity, Miss,” Sowoen says, not meeting your eyes all the way. “The boss may find that rude…” Sowoen speaks from experience, and doesn’t want you to unnecessarily make the same mistakes she and her friends have made before, but to you it just looks like another threat, another choice you don’t have the right to.

You don’t want to make Bada angry, but you thought maybe being humble would show her that you’re not a threat.

“Oh, ok…” you say, looking away from Sowoen, your heart squeezing in your chest. “If it isn’t rude to Ms. Lee, then I guess I’ll do it…” You pick up a tube of the Beginner’s paint, but Sowoen stops you.

“You said the quality of those weren’t good, Miss. Shouldn’t you get the better ones?”

“I used these all the time at home, so it’s nothing I’m not used to. Plus they’re cheaper,” you try to reassure her.

Sowoen just looks at you, and you put the tubes back as you begin to falter under her blank stare. “But maybe I can get one or two of the good ones, right?”

“Right,” Sowoen nods, watching you as you go towards the Professional grade paints.

This is the first time you’re seeing these types of paints up close. Even in college you only allowed yourself to use the Intermediate level ones when your classes required it, but now you have the opportunity to see the real deal.

But which ones should you get? You need the primaries, plus white and black, but there are so many to choose from that it’s making your head spin. Plus the price, it’s damn near half of your weekly allowance for one small tube of paint.

You can’t help but wince at the price, looking over to Sowoen, who just watches you with the blank stare of hers.

“What colors, uh, what colors do you like? I can’t decide…” You ask tentatively, looking down a bit. Sowoen comes up beside you and immediately chooses a few colors. She must’ve been eyeing them earlier.

You look at her selection as she presents them to you, like a kid showing what she got for Christmas. She picked out two reds, a bright yellow, a green, a purple similar to her hair color, and three blues. You pick up the brighter red, the yellow, and a muted blue from her hand.

“Are you not going to get all of them?” Sowoen asks with a tilt of her head. You shake your head.

“No, this is enough. I don’t want to spend more than…” You feel like Sowoen thinks you’re stupid with the way she stares at you.

“Miss, you have the money for it, and you should have options for things, right?”

“I… I guess, but we still have to buy the canvas and an easel and those can be expensive and–” You cut yourself off as Sowoen puts the paints in your hands. “Ok…” You resign yourself to the fate of spending money that you don’t want to use.

Sowoen makes you follow her as she goes to get a basket, and then proceeds to pick more colors out for you. You have twenty different paints now, more than you’ve ever had in your life, and you’re nervous, but a tiny part of you is excited. You also grab a few canvases, a couple of brushes, paint thinner, and a retractable easel. You close your eyes when the cashier tells you your total, and shakily hand over Bada’s card to her. It is damn near a month and a half worth of your allowance back home, and you just (reluctantly), spent it like it is nothing.

You walk out of the store with Sowoen holding most of your bags–you begged to at least hold the bag of paints–, feeling a little bit giddy.

“Are you sure Ms. Lee won’t mind me having this?” You ask Sowoen for the nth time as you walk towards the car.

“Yes, I’m sure,” Sowoen says, holding the door open for you. She wanted to see if you would go to another store, but with how reluctant you were to buy the art supplies, she just figures that one step at a time is enough.

Not that Sowoen cares, though. She’s just glad that you aren’t isolating yourself in your room. Seeing you do that just brings up bad memories for her, so it’s better that you have something to do. Plus, it is good that she knows you’re not decomposing in your bed doing nothing, so she knows that she’s not failing at her job at watching you. You place your things in the back seat with you, and a small smile threatens to come across your faces.

“Shall we go back to the manor, Miss?” Sowoen asks as she starts the car. Your head snaps up, confusion on your face.

“I thought… Why are we going back to the manor?” You ask, blinking a few times.

“Is there anywhere else you’d like to go, Miss?” Sowoen asks, looking at you in the rearview mirror.

“No…” you say, “But, Ms. Lee said that… that I shouldn’t be in the house. I thought that she didn’t want me to be there…”

Sowoen feels her brows furrow and then straightens her face out. “Why… why would the boss say that?”

She can’t imagine Bada going through all of this effort to move you to the manor only for her to kick you out this early. Especially without getting her money from your parents. You blink at Sowoen, Sowoen blinks at you.

“I don’t know…” you answer, and you sit in silence for the rest of the car ride, thoughts swirling wildly in your head.

You arrive to the manor and follow Sowoen inside, and a maid takes your things to your room. You go to follow her until you stop, turning to Sowoen behind you.

“Um, can I… do you think that… I can go and visit Ms. Lee for a bit?” You ask, playing with the sleeves of your sweater, picking at the threads. Sowoen blinks at you, not expecting you to ever ask that question in your life.

“If she’s not busy, then sure,” Sowoen says, trying to keep her voice level.

You nod, turning on your heel and walking towards Bada’s office, hesitance in your steps. You stop in front of the door, raising your hand to go and knock, but you get too nervous and put your hand down. You repeat the motion two more times before wiping your slightly sweaty hands on your skirt, looking at Sowoen, who is staring at you.

“I’m nervous,” you whisper, stepping back from the door.

“Don’t be,” Sowoen whispers back. “The worst thing the boss could say is that she’s busy.” Well, that’s not entirely true. There are a lot of things Sowoen can imagine her saying that are worse than that, but she wouldn’t tell you that when you’ve gathered the courage to come here.

You lift your hand up once more, going to knock on the door until it opens, revealing Lusher and Tatter on the other side, about to leave the office. You quickly step to the side, bowing slightly, missing the incredulous look they give to Sowoen, and the confused shrug Sowoen gives back. They say nothing as they leave the office, giving you a slight bow back before they round the corner.

You’re embarrassed about being caught at the door, and you are about to scurry back into your room when you hear Bada’s voice from inside the office, sitting at her desk.

“What do you need?” She asks, and you faintly hear the scribble of her pen as she writes on the papers in front of her. You look back at Sowoen, who gestures for you to go inside.

“May… may I enter?” You ask, not moving across the threshold. Bada just nods, and you take a step forward, hands clasped in front of you. The door closes afterwards, and you start to miss Sowoen shadowing behind you. You speak after a beat, “Um, I just wanted to thank you, for, um, allowing me to come back to the manor.” Bada’s hand stops writing momentarily, but she soon continues before you can even notice it. “I know you wanted me to stay outside, but I had bought some things earlier, and Sowoen suggested coming back, so I assumed it was ok for me to be back here,” you ramble, not looking at Bada. “And about the buying-things-with-your-money thing, I really apologize for that, I should’ve asked for permission, I know I should have. So please, if there’s any way for me to pay you back or earn–” Bada looks up at you for a few seconds, silencing you.

“You can buy whatever you want,” Bada says and continues to write on her paper. You stay silent for a second, information turning in your brain.

“Um, yes, but with the card, it’s–”

“You can buy whatever you want. Must you make me repeat myself so often?” Ah, now she is annoyed, and you really should shut up.

Don’t complain, serve, and obey.

You close your mouth, stopping the protest you had on the tip of your tongue.

“No, I apologize,” you say, bowing slightly. You sit there, waiting for her to say you can go.

“You are dismissed,” Bada says after a second or two more. You turn to walk away, and Bada’s voice stops you, “Did you like what you got for yourself?” You turn back to her, thinking about how you have more paint than you’ve ever had before, how the canvases you got aren’t cheap and easily breakable, how the easel you have is brand new and not wobbly. You want to smile.

“Yes,” you answer with a nod.

Bada looks up at you once again before looking back down.

“Good. You may go.”

You exit the office then, chest still not filled with relief, but a little less hesitant about the things ahead of you.

#bada lee x reader #bada lee #lee bada x y/n #bada x reader #bada x fem reader #bada lee x y/n #lee bada x reader #team bebe #lee bada #swf2 #swf2 x reader

[blueicequeen19]

Charter ch. 3

Warnings: banter, toxicity, oral, protected sex, dirty talk, age gap, talk of drug use & addiction

Why did I always fucking do this? Why did I always get involved with the girls with the big fucking mouths? Sure she had a heart of gold and a laugh that had me dying to hear it at any moment and her body.. fuck. Plus she’s my employee and five years fucking younger than me.

I remember how stupid I was at her age. How I got someone pregnant from a one night stand. How she led me to believe it wasn’t mine even after the baby came out looking just fucking like me.

My gut churned at the thought of the worst nine months of my life. The not knowing. How I let her mother use me for money over and over again only to find out that she was doing drugs. It took months in the NICU on the mainland before Summer got to come home and another year to prove that her mother was unfit. Court systems tend to do everything they can to keep children with their mothers even with plenty of evidence against them.

How was I supposed to let someone else into Summer’s life when her own mother failed her? I refused to let it happen again. That’s why I didn’t date. That’s why my father didn’t know her. I knew a thing or two about absent parents and I wasn’t about to let it hurt my daughter the way it had me. She deserved happiness and that was all I was going to give her.

The Charter is closed on Sundays and Mondays so that gave me two full days with my girl. Those are always my favorite days. We spend it at the beach, at the Chateau, at the Wreck, and wherever else we can get into. All while singing every Disney song she’s ever heard.

When Tuesday rolled around, I was anxious. I wanted to see Y/N again but I couldn’t let it be known that there was anything between us to anyone else. People will take anything and run with it and I didn’t need Summer’s mother finding any ammunition against me. But seeing Y/N bent over at the counter, flipping through our supply magazine had me stiffening in my shorts. I wanted to take her right then and there.

Her eyes darted up at the sound of the bell from the door being opened but she quickly glanced away when she realized it was just me. I did a quick scan of the shelves to make sure no one else was in the store before stopping in front of her. She didn’t look up as she flipped the page.

“Do I pay you to read on the clock?”

“Yep. And you fuck me on it too.”

She didn’t look up at me and I was glad because I had to wipe the stupid grin off my face. I hated how hot she was when she was mad.

“Would you rather me make you clock out?”

“For thirty seconds? It wouldn’t be worth it.” She didn’t miss a fucking beat and I didn’t bother to stifle my laughter.

“It’s at least forty-five seconds.”

Silence.

Fine.

“Truck came today.” I change the subject to work and she nods.

“Yep and I put 90% of it away already. The rest is too heavy for me to put on the racks.” Which was fine. I did that part anyway.

“Have we been busy?”

“Check the register.”

“Y/N.”

“JJ.”

I sighed, pulling out my phone and going to my pictures. I turned my phone to face her, letting her see the picture I’d taken of Summer and I yesterday. Her blonde curls hung around her face in a happy smile, looking every bit my twin. She was in her pink princess dress and I was in my pink shirt. Her favorite shirt that I had to wear so we matched. Y/N’s eyes darted to my phone and she couldn’t fight off her beaming smile. Seconds passed before she straightened and took my phone. I let her flip through the pictures, mostly all Summer and me.

“She looks just like you.” Y/N cooed, pinching her fingers as she zoomed in. I wasn’t sure how far back she’d gotten in the albums but I could probably guess when her face fell.

“She was so tiny.” She whispered, no doubt looking at the picture of Summer in the NICU hooked up to wires and machines.

“She was nine weeks early.” I swallowed the lump in my throat, holding out my hand for my phone back. Her glassy eyes met mine and I knew she was fighting back tears as she handed me my phone back.

“What’s her name?”

“Summer Rain Maybank.”

The shop bell went off and the conversation ended. Back to work we went.

I couldn’t tear my eyes off her tonight. Usually she was the one always watching me. My blood always ran hotter knowing she couldn’t take her eyes off me. Why did she think I wore these cutoffs everyday? I liked that she was constantly checking out my body and I wanted her to. Now she could hardly stand to glance in my direction. If this was a game of hard to get, she was fucking winning.

“I brought extra shrimp and grits if you want some.” I called around break time and she just waved me off.

“You can go ahead and head out if you want. I can close up.” I offered, thinking maybe she’d want to get home an hour or two earlier but she just shrugged and continued stocking shelves.

“How’s your dog?” I asked at one point and she grumbled a “fine” in response. I’d just about fucking had it when the sun was setting and we were going through our closing routine. I not so gently put the cash drawer down and stalked towards her as she made her way to the work bench. She didn’t see me coming, wasn’t even paying attention, until I fisted her shirt and yanked her against me. Her eyes widen in surprise for a moment before they narrowed to a glare.

“Out with it. You want me to apologize? Fine. I’m sorry. You want me to fuck you until you can’t walk to show you how sorry I am? Fine. But you will acknowledge me. You will look at me. You will say more than two words to me.” I bit out, my body shaking with something I didn’t quite recognize. My cock was so hard I could hardly breathe as those defiant eyes stared back up at me. She pressed her tits against my chest, her fingers hooking in my belt loops as she leaned in, her breath hitting my mouth.

“Or. What.”

I tore her shirt down the middle making her gasp in surprise before shoving her back against the work bench and ducking my head to suck her pierced nipple in my mouth.

“Oh god.” She moaned, yanking on my hair as she bowed over the work bench. I grabbed her ass with both hands after ripping her bra off next and throwing it behind me, her nipples at my mercy. When she was trembling and crying out, I pulled away and flipped her so she was face down on the work bench. I slapped her ass hard before yanking her shorts and panties down.

“You fucking caveman.” She bit out, arching her ass out for me anyway as I kneeled behind her.

“It’s your fault.” I snapped before burying my face in her dripping pussy. She cried out, lifting one leg up onto the work bench to give me better access. I licked and sucked like my life depended on it. She was moaning like crazy and trembling, her hand reached back to fist my hair. When I plunged my tongue deep inside her she all but screamed as she came on my tongue. I didn’t stop until she was whimpering and as I rose to my feet, she spun around and pushed me to sit at the desk chair.

I nearly came right there just from the pure hunger in her eyes as she tore open my shorts and freed my cock. I dug a condom from my pocket and she ripped it open with her teeth before rolling it on.

“I’m still mad at you.” She bit out, straddling my waist and positioning me at her entrance.

“That doesn’t go away.” I start to smirk but she sinks down on my cock and I throw my head back with a groan, her hands fisting my shirt as she starts to ride me.

My hands find her hips as I thrust up into her, hitting so deep our eyes nearly cross.

“God, it’s too deep.” She whines breathlessly, her lashes fluttering with every bounce of her hips.

“I can get deeper.” I taunt, lifting her in my arms and putting her back on the desk. Her legs find my shoulders then I’m fucking her like my life depends on it. My hips keep hitting the desk but I’m too fucking close to care. Her cries pierce my ears as she grips her own tits, pinching the piercing nipples as I tighten my grip on her waist. I move one hand to her stomach and push down, her entire body tightening as she bows off the desk with a choked scream.

I came right along with her, filling up the condom until I’m wrung dry and panting. I have to carefully pull out so she doesn’t rip the condom off inside her with the way she’s still clamped down. I can’t take my eyes off the way her body is shuddering as she comes down. Her flushed body and her raspy breathing. Her hard nipples begging for my mouth again. This girl was going to get me in trouble.

“I need more.” She whispers, finally opening her eyes to look at me. I smirk after throwing away the condom and fixing my shorts. I run my hands up her thighs and she shakes harder, her eyes pleading.

“Greedy.” My fingers glide over her glistening swollen clit making her jerk and whimper with need.

“That’s what happens when you piss me off. I need a way to release that pent up aggression.” She breathes, her hips bucking with every feather like touch to her clit.

“So I take it you don’t want me to be gentle when I finger fuck you?” My voice is lower and hungry as I tease her entrance with my finger. She growls in warning.

“No. Never.” She breathes, palming her gorgeous tits again.

“You don’t want me to ease in slowly as I fill you?” I murmur as I do just that, sliding two fingers inside her desperate cunt and she moans low and long.

“No.” She pants. I smirk as I start to pump my fingers slowly, too slowly for my own liking. I curl my fingers to find her G-spot and her eyes pop open, her hand reaching for me.

“Oh god.”

“You don’t like when I do that?” She only whimpers. I chuckle darkly as I give her what she wants. We don’t leave until she’s dripping on the floor and I’ve fucked her again.

We walk out together as usual, only she’s wearing a shirt from the shop instead of her own, a small smile on her face as she twirls her keys around her fingers. It’s not until we’re half way across the street that I stop dead in my tracks as I take in who’s leaning against my truck.

“How’s my daughter, JJ?” She calls, my good mood instantly fucking gone.

#smutwarning #outer banks smut #jj maybank smut #jj maybank fic #obx2 #jj maybank imagine #rudy pankow #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank x you #jj obx #outer banks x reader #wattpad #tw dark content #blueicequeen19 #jj maybank #outer banks fanfiction

[nikkisheep]

Crave

Rick Grimes x reader

Warnings: SMUT, arguing, enemies to lovers, dirty talk, hate fucking?, sex on a run, rick's mouth, Rick (he a warning in general), oral (m), cursing, degrading, SWITCH!RICK, tension, Rick is covered in blood, dirty smut (literally), Rick looks hot with blood, mentions of walkers

Summary: Rick Grimes is the bane of your existence but also the man you crave most.

Can be read as male reader as well

Got way too long lol

Hunger eats you up inside before anything else. Thirst makes your throat beg for water. Your muscles plead for relief. Your thoughts are asked to be silent. Everything craves to be around the man you hate the most.

Rick Grimes, the leader of Alexandria, orders everyone around. Who appointed him to lead the group? It wasn't just that. Yes, he is a smart man but the main reason that you hate the southern man is because of his mouth. He would be so cocky with his words and you would want to slap him. You wanted to make his mouth to be put to better work than yelling orders. You wanted to be the reason that he can't speak. You wanted to be the reason that he is speechless. You wanted him to be consumed by you and only you.

But, you hated the tall man. You hated the way that he consumed your every waking thought. You hated the way that he could get you to do anything. All he had to do was smile at you or tip his head in your direction and you hated it. You mostly hated yourself for finding the man attractive yet so cocky. He was the reason that you could barely sleep at night.

You pressed a hand to your forehead, begging the headache to go away but then another headache came by on two legs.

"Morning," Rick called.

"Fuck you," You grit.

He smirked.

"You missed the morning meeting."

"Fuck the meeting. I don't even care."

"You are on run duty today."

"I'm on lookout today, Rick." You finally look at the man. He was wearing a white shirt and those damn jeans that made him look like sex on legs.

"Not today. You are going on a two week run with me and Daryl."

At least Daryl would be there. The two of you were best friends. Ever since you stood up to Rick and his orders, Daryl had taken a liking to you and you were glad that the two of you grew close. The thing was, Rick got jealous of the closeness that you and Daryl had. He wanted that with you but more. Oh, but he hated your guts. He hated you so much.

He hated how you would challenge his authority and how riled up you make him. He hated how much you were on his mind. He hated how every time he tried to jack off in the shower, the picture of you under him came to mind. He hated that it was the best orgasms he ever had. He hated how you would smirk at him when someone agrees with you rather than him. Yes, Rick Grimes hated your entire being. He hated how much he craves you.

You jumped on the motorcycle with Daryl and smiled at his joke about Rick being upset. Rick actually looked jealous when he saw your arms wrapped around Daryl's chest. He saw the way you would laugh at his jokes, squeezing the archer a tad bit tighter.

"Get in the truck," Rick ordered.

"Why?"

"Because Daryl may need to have room on the bike if anything happens."

"I'm fine," Daryl said.

"Rick, lets just go." You mentioned.

"Get in the truck," He ordered again.

Daryl patted your thigh and you got off the bike. You were pissed. Rick never made you ride with him. You walked over to the driver's seat and got in.

"Get in Rick."

"I'm driving," He scoffed.

"Get in the truck, Rick."

He got in with a huff and a sigh but then you were off. The tension in the truck was so thick, you were suffocating. Rick was reading the map and gave you the directions.

---

A week had passed and you were ready to strangle Rick. He was arrogant and never left you alone. Getting everything that you needed, you were planning on going home early. That was until a fucking storm hit you and the truck slid off the road into the woods. Daryl had lost sight of you and it was just Rick with you. The man you hated.

"This is why you don't drive," Rick shouted.

"Fuck you, Rick. I knew what I was doing."

"So that's why we're in the woods with walkers anywhere?"

Rick was seething and wanted to kill something. He needed to get out of this truck. He grabbed his machete and left. You followed him and watched as he stabbed any walker in his path. Your lower stomach became hot with arousal with every flex of Rick's body. You watched the blood splatter on his face, his shirt, his body, every where.

You grabbed his arm, pulling the machete away from his hand once all of the walkers were dead. He looked at you, seeing that your eyes were blown with lust. You were turned on at the sight of him killing the dead. You were attracted to him.

Tension builds between you. The air stilled with your breaths. You looked up at Rick, wanting him to get closer. He was still covered in blood and grime but you didn't care. You wanted him. You craved the bane of your existence. You wanted him. You needed Rick Grimes.

Rick's mind filled with thoughts of taking you right then. What would you sound like? Would you moan for him? Would you scream his name? Would you let him touch you?

Your hands moved up to his bloody face, wiping the blood from his cheeks. You shook slightly with excitement as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling yourself closer to him, feeling his warmth. Your eyes flicker back to his and ask for his permission with your touch. He closes his eyes, wanting nothing more than this to not stop. He wants this to happen. He wants this to be real. He begs that this is real. He hated you, yes, but he desire for you burned with fiery.

A snarl from within the woods is the only sound other than your breathing. The two of you look into each other's souls and just when you go to graze your lips against his, a walker slips right from behind a tree. Rick steps back and grabs the walker and snaps the neck. Blood splatters on your face. You look at Rick and he then grabs your face and kisses you with fierce passion. The walker wasn't even dead but it did not matter right now.

His tongue slides into your mouth, begging to taste you. Hands run through Rick's hair, pulling when you moan at the feeling of pure sexual tension flowing between your bodies. Rick's hand slips down your back and squeezes your ass. Your hips rut against his thigh and you throw your head back with the sensation that courses through you. Rick smirks at your moan. He knew you would sound beautiful when he touched you. He grabs a rag from his pocket and wipes the blood off of your neck before he starts to kiss there. He sucks on your skin while wiping the walker blood from your face. You smile at how he is trying to get you clean.

"Rick," You step away from him to take off your tank top and wiping the blood completely off of your body. He groans and moved to nip at your chest. The only issue is that he still has a little bit of blood on him. You realize that it was actually his and you melt at the sight. You grew to love it when Rick was covered in blood. It didn't matter if it was human, his, or walker. Something about Rick with blood is hot.

Cleaning the little bit of blood off his face and neck, you kiss him deeply.

"Get on your knees," Rick said. You slip down to the ground.

He smiles at your eagerness but he doesn't realize that you have been waiting for the man above you to ask you for this. You have daydreamed about what is under his pants and belt. He moans when you press your face to his crotch. You unzip his pants and pulls his dick out. He watches you when you kiss his tip.

"Look at you, practically begging me to take you in my throat." You taunt him.

He groans and pants when you finally take him fully. All at once. You hollow your cheeks as you pull back and go back down on him. Rick's whines and whimpers send shivers down your spine. Here was the big bad leader of Alexandria, falling apart under your mouth.

''I should have done this a lot sooner if I knew that it would shut you up," Rick moans at your words.

You swirl your tongue around the tip, tasting the man's flavor.

"Sweet and salty. My favorite,'' You smirk at his glazed over eyes.

"Fuck, sweetheart."

You stand up, leaving him to teeter over the edge. You grin at the whine that leaves his lips.

"I'm not your sweetheart.''

You pump his cock in your hands.

"Fuck me, Rick.''

A switch flips in his mind and he has you pressed against a tree. Rain starts to fully fall around you. The water soaks your clothes while Rick plows into you. He presses against you g-spot and has you wanting to scream at how good it feels but Rick covers your mouth. You beg him with your eyes to fuck you harder. Begging him to fuck you like he hated you.

"I.fucking.hate.you." You moan into his mouth, kissing his lips with hunger.

Your core was burning. You bit his lip, blood spilling out the wound. You kiss him again, this time, not letting up. Your hands grasp at his hair and shoulders while his held you up against the tree that he fucked you against.

"Wanna feel you better," He said before having you wrap your legs around his waist so he could lay you on the wet, muddy ground. The rain made the ground soft and wet, causing Rick to slip as he fucked you. His thrusts were rough and deep. He didn't stop as you slid on the muddy surface. Your hair was caked with mud, leaves, and twigs but it didn't matter. Not with how good Rick was making you feel.

"Make me cum, Rick."

"Shut up," He groans.

"Why?"

"Because if you keep talking, I will not be able to-" He stopped when he heard something.

"To what?"

"To continue hating you."

"Then fuck me like you hate me, Rick."

His thrusts became faster, more punishing. You wanted to scream as the tears poured. You dug your head into the mud, pushing your hips against Rick's. You wanted to fill everything that he could give you. But, within the hate and desire, there was passion in his thrusts and touches. He gripped your hips with a tight grasp and all you could think about was never letting Rick leave you.

You look into his eyes, watching his pleasure show on his face. He moved slower now, softer. Your hand goes up to his face, swiping a thumb across his lip which he takes it into his mouth to suck. One sharp thrust is all it took for the two of you to cum together, lips crashing onto one another as pleasure floods your bodies. The two of you shake in the rain, Rick thrusting slightly and your hips meeting them.

No, there was never hate. You had never hated Rick and he never hated you. All there was, was lust and craving. The two of you had a fire of passion that people mistook as hate. You both even took it as hate. No, it was love. A love that was burning so bright, that not even the two who felt it could have known what it was or how to control it.

So with Rick laying on top of you in that mud, you had never been so happy before. He continued to kiss you, passion slipping in and you were happy to receive it.

"I don't hate you."

Rick looked at you as if you were crazy.

"I actually care deeply for you and I thought it was hatred. I was wrong." You said once you had made it back to Alexandria.

"I care about you as well.''

No, you had never hated each other. You craved each other too much to understand your feelings. So, you let the passion burn and light everything else with your lust. You were both consumed by love, lust, passion, and just craved each other.

#rick grimes x reader #rick grimes x female!reader #rick grimes x reader smut #rick grimes smut #twd #twd x reader #the walking dead x reader #rick grimes #twd smut #sub!rick grimes x reader #switch rick grimes #rick grimes x male reader

[writing-blog-iguess]

Online Matchup 2

Summery: Y/n gets sick and gets a surprise. Too bad they're a little out of it, otherwise they would see it.

Warning: teasing, fluff, swearing, mistakes

a/n: I tried something new, with the sections Jason's pov and readers. Let me know if you like it. Otherwise, enjoy!

Words: 2174

ao3 Part 1 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

-----

September 29

Y/N: (3:04 am) Do you think if they didn’t kill Eddie that Steddie would be a thing?

Jason: (3:04 am) Why the ever loving fuck are you awake at three in the morning?

Y/N: (3:04 am) College student

Jason: Aside from that?

Y/N: Sick

Jason: You seemed fine a few days ago

Y/N: A lot can happen as time passes Also, it’s the season where the weather doesn’t make up its mind and it’s cold the one day and warm the next day

Jason: All true all true And it doesn’t help that mr freeze attacked the university the day either

Y/N: I hate the fact that we’ve known each other for like a day, talked for hours And you can read me

Jason: I am a man of many talents I also read the news Though one can say the same for you

Y/N: Ew, who reads the news? I’ll give you that

Jason: I do thank you very much So is it the flu or just a cold

Y/N: Can’t tell But my body feels like it’s been hit by a truck I can’t breathe and I’ve been throwing up a storm I want to die

Jason: Can’t be that bad

Y/N: I’ve been sick for the past three days, I haven’t been school and the only time I’ve left my bed was to throw up It’s that bad

Jason: That sounds like a flu Have you eaten anything? Taken anything?

Y/N: I’ve eaten some crackers, can’t really stomach anything else

Jason: Would you mind giving me your address

Y/N: Sir, I did not message you for a booty call I am a lady of the highest regards

Jason: You’re funny when your sick I was gonna send you some soup that I have when I’m sick But if your gonna be like that, then never mind 

Y/N: … Chicken noodle?

Jason: Only the very best

Y/N: I’m sorry, I’ll give it to you if you give me your number

Jason: Bold words coming from a lady

Y/N: Wow

Jason: You said it

Y/N: I’ve changed my mind

Jason: No you haven’t

Y/N: You're not a mind reader, are you?

Jason: No, but it’s soup and you're sick, are you really gonna say no to free soup?

Y/N: …. I am not

—

After saving Jason’s number to your phone, and confirming that it was actually Jason, you sent him your address. Tossing your phone to the side, you snuggled into your blankets and fell asleep.

A few hours later, a knock at the door is what wakes you from your nap. Blinking away the sleep, you look around confused on why you’re sleeping on the couch. Stretching, you grab your phone to see that soup is gonna be on the way soon.

At another knock, you slowly get up from the couch and grab your wallet and a mask. After putting it on, you open the door. “Sorry. I am a little disoriented.”

“No worries,” the food delivery person said, handing the bag to you. Taking it, you set it aside before opening your wallet.

“How much do I own you?” you asked, and he shook his head.

“There’s no need for it, it was already paid for,” he answered. You looked up and squinted at him as a sense of familiarity hit you.

“Are you sure?” He nodded and sent you a smile. Sighing in defeat, you let your arms drop. “Alright if you’re sure.” And before he can leave, you're quick to add on, “do I know you from somewhere? You seem familiar.”

“Don’t think I could forget a pretty face like yours,” he said, adjusting his hat down a little. Any other day, you would have scoffed and shut the door. But today wasn’t any other day, and you were sick, and that meant your face bloomed like a tomato.

“Aren’t you a charmer,” you managed out, and he smiled as if you said something funny. “Well, um, thank you for the soup. I’ll let you get back to your night.”

“Hope you feel better,” he said, tipping his hat and leaving before you could say anything back. You peaked out and watched him leave before closing the door.

You stared at the soup for a bit, feeling warm for a different reason. Blinking away the warm feeling, you went about and poured yourself a bowl of soup. Once the bowl was finished, you washed up and went back to bed, hoping to sleep off the rest of the flu.

—

Jason 7:30am: Did the soup make it okay? How are you feeling? Okay, I’m going to take the silence that your sleeping Will be check in later 

Jason: Okay, it’s been twelve hours birdie, should I be worried?

Y/N 2:30pm: Holy FUCK What was in that soup?

Jason I take it you’re feeling better

Y/N: Sooooo much I feel like a new person Imma needs that restaurant name. I bet they have good food

Jason: The best But I’m afraid I will not be sharing that information

Y/N: Boooooo

Jason: Where have you been anyways?

Y/n: Sleeping I woke up maybe once or twice to go to the bathroom I’m sore now though, so I’ve been walking around What was in that soup?

Jason: Chicken, spices, water I don’t know, whatever else is in the soup

Y/n: Well it was good soup Compliments to the chief

Jason: Lol I’ll let him know

Y/n: Or I could do it 

Jason: I will not be giving you the restaurants name

Y/n: Boooo

Jason (11:30pm) How does one kill someone and make it look like an accident?

Y/N: Depends If in hospital, inject air in the iv heart attack 

Jason: That wasn’t meant for you

Y/N: If not, still inject air and it’ll still look like a heart attack You just have to hope the M.E doesn’t look for the injection sight. Well, you could always burn that part but I think that’s just a dead give away Hide it in a tattoo, should work Maybe

Jason: The way you didn’t have to think about that should have me worried 

Y/n: Who was it meant for then?

Jason: My brothers

Y/N: I should be worried that you have conversations like these with them But somehow I’m not surprised 

Jason: Excuse me?

Y/N: You’re excuse

Jason: Funny Why do you even know that anyways?

Y/N: Don’t worry about it

Jason: Now I’m going to worry about it

Y/N: But you don’t need too

Jason: Mm, still gonna worry

Y/N: If you say so Man, how out of it was I?

Jason: Don’t know, you seemed coherent enough when we talked Although you did say you weren’t a booty call type of women

Y/N: I’m not But while talking to you, I must have felt a little better Because these emails are not it Prof, am sick, no school. Nobody yours, y/n

Jason: That was beautiful 

Y/n: And all they said was to get better before coming back to class I don’t think I could ever show my face there again

Jason: I’m sure they’ve had plenty of emails like that before

Y/n: Even still

Jason: They won’t care You need to go to class if you want to graduate 

Y/n: I hate that your right

Jason: Always am

Y/n: We’ll see about that

Jason: How are you feeling now?

Y/n: Better I think the worst of it is over Had a shower and eat something that wasn’t soup so things are looking up Not ready to run a marathon but ready enough to tackle the homework that I missed

Jason: That’s good Where were you when the mr freeze attacked anyways?

Y/n: Library The fucking library! Nowhere near the science building! But some asshole decided to bring the fight away from the science building Which I get, can’t really fight around all the chemicals it has But why did they have to move it towards the library Whenever I find the person who’s idea that was its on sight

Jason: Why didn’t you run away?

Y/N: I dunno Maybe because I needed to finish the project that was due the next day But to be fair, I wasn’t the only one who didn’t run away either Like the majority of the students stayed to either watch or finish their homework

Jason: College students are a different bread

Y/N: Death means nothing when your homework is half your grade

Jason: You’re all bark and no play, aren’t you?

Y/n: Only when there’s consent

Jason: Good to know 

—

“You aren’t supposed to be on your phone when on patrol, Todd,” Robin reminded, annoyed. Jason made a face behind his mask, but kept his attention on his phone.

“I think I’m free to do whatever I want,” he said, snorting at the oncoming messages you had sent about wanting to fight the person who thought it was a great idea to lead Mr. Freeze away from the science building and towards the library. He had half a mind to tell you it was Nightwing, only for the sole purpose of riling you up. But he decided against it, wanting you to feel better completely before teasing you. “Besides, it's slow tonight.”

“Did you forget we’re on a stakeout?” Robin asked, leaning over to reach for the phone. Jason stepped back and shrugged.

“I’m paying attention.”

“Not nearly as much as you should be,” he grumbled, crossing his arms and turned back to the building Bruce had wanted someone to look at. “Who are you talking to anyways? You don’t have any friends.”

Jason squawked, offended. “I have friends!” he defended, turning to look at his younger brother. Robin only snorted and shook his head.

“Superhero friends, and I’m pretty sure you don’t talk to them nearly as much as you're talking to the person you are now,” he pointed out. Which is true, over the last week or so, Jason found that he was talking to you more than any of his other friends. But he wasn’t going to tell that to Damian. “So, who are you talking to?”

“Why do you care?” he shot back, turning back to his phone.

“You’re glued to that thing constantly,” he said and just then their earpieces crackled coming to life before hearing Dick’s voice filter through.

“Little D’s got a point Jay. Whenever I see you, you're typing away and smiling like someone made a joke or something,” Dick said.

“There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“No, but you giggle like a schoolgirl with a crush,” Tim said. Jason rolled his eyes, he wasn’t that bad that everyone noticed. Was he?

“Maybe he met someone?” Duke said and the line went dead before it exploded with everyone’s yelling. Jason winced, and turned off his ear piece, relishing in the silence.

“Is Thomas right? You met someone and that’s who you’re talking to?” Robin asked, watching Jason with a calculated look.

“For me to know, and you to never find out,” Jason answered before leaving him be. He ignored Damian’s “we’ll find out eventually!” as he walked. Once he was far enough away, he sat at the edge of the building, and turned back to his phone.

—

Jason: Do you think anyone would notice if I got rid of my brothers?

Y/N: A hundred percent Bruce would know … Well, it depends if he pays attention to how many kids he has Your sisters might notice though Doesn’t Bruce have a butler?

Jason: Yeah, Alfred

Y/N: He will definitely notice And all of Gotham So I’m afraid your suck with them

Jason: Damn And here I was hoping to be an only child

Y/N: Should have thought about that before meeting Bruce

Jason: Funny

Y/N: I try to be Are they giving you grief?

Jason: You can say that They found out about you Well not you specifically They know I’m talking to someone

Y/N: Oooh Am I your dirty little secret?

Jason: Why did you have to say it like that? And no, you’re not my dirty secret I wanted this to be my thing before they started hounding me with question about you

Y/N: Okay that’s fair Wanna get to know me before introducing me to le family I get that

Jason: Have you told anyone yet?

Y/N: Nope

Jason: Now who’s the dirty little secret?

Y/N: You apparently

Jason: I’m okay with that

Y/N: Oh my god I have to go, finish this homework and sleep before class tomorrow

Jason: Yeah, me too. Not the homework part, but I promised Bruce I’d help him with something Talk to you tomorrow

Y/N: Good luck Night!

Jason: Night

#jason todd x reader #jason todd gn!reader #jason todd #batman imagine #my writing #online match up

[bobbyonboard]

Peppermint [Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd x Reader]

Summary: i saw this tiktok of lewis pullman and it was so goddamn sexual my brain wouldn’t shut up until i wrote something about it. also know as--it’s 115 degrees in Lemoore and the AC in Bob’s truck is busted. 

Warnings: swearing, oral sex (female receiving), unprotected sex, hair pulling, please assume the reader is always on some sort of contraceptive in my fics unless i state otherwise, bob is a switch and no i will not be taking any questions at this time, minors DO not interact with me you lil shits 

Word Count: 2.2k

Author’s Note: y’all were so nice with my last one regarding Rooster, I had to write one for my main man!!! also cannot get over I have like 300 new followers. never be afraid to come talk to me!!

“Fuck. Off,” you grumbled in the direction of the television as you heard the chipper weatherman inform you that the high today in Lemoore, California was going to be a record-breaking one hundred and fifteen degrees fahrenheit. One hundred and fifteen fucking degrees. You never hated the Navy more than you did in that moment. Who the fuck gets stationed in Lemoore? No beaches, no shade. Just heat, and lots of it. But where your husband goes, you go–and unfortunately, you both were stuck in Lemoore. 

The July air was thick and it wasn’t even nine in the morning, so you made sure that you didn’t have a single thing to do that day except stay inside the apartment, laying upside-down on your couch directly in front of your tiny window AC unit. You’d always loved being a teacher, but days like this, when you thought you actually might melt if you went outside, you were sure as hell glad you had summers off. 

Your day passed by lazily, only shuffling between the couch and the kitchen to get more water what seemed like every thirty minutes. Before you knew it, it was already four o’clock, and you were expecting Bob home any minute. 

Bob had told you that morning he was heading out to run a few test flights on some newer planes, so you expected him to come home freshly showered from the Naval base locker rooms, smelling of Old Spice and car air freshener that had been blasted over his clothes from his aggressive truck air conditioning. But instead, when you lazily glanced over your shoulder to the sound of keys jingling, you were greeted with…well, certainly not that. 

Bob’s hair was frizzed and stuck straight up in the back, almost as if he had just taken off his helmet. His clothes were stuck to his skin, large sweat stains covering most of the material of his t-shirt. His cheeks were a dark shade of red, and his eyes looked as though they were currently in the process of holding back unshed tears. 

“Bobby?,” you frowned, quickly standing up, crossing the room, and quickly taking his duffel bag from his hand to toss on the floor. “Honey, whassamatter? You okay?,” you asked, putting the back of your hand on his forehead and physically wincing at how hot his skin was to the touch. 

“Pipes burst,” was all he murmured out, bottom lip trembling just slightly, and it was quite literally breaking your heart to see him so miserable. “We landed and–and went to go shower and they told us a pipe burst, so the showers weren’t working. So I couldn’t shower and–,” he started to breathe a bit heavier, almost as if his own clothes were weighing him down worse than any g-force. 

“I got to the truck and the AC was just blowing out hot air. So I rode all the way home with the windows down and I’m just so hot,” he finally whimpered, and you just brushed his wet hair out of his face with a soft coo. 

You hated to see him like this. You couldn’t imagine how hot he had to be in that plane today, only to land and not be able to cool down like his body so desperately needed. An idea suddenly popped into your brain, and you were taking off down the hallway. 

“Put your arms up, honey,” you purred ever so gently once you returned, producing a cold packet of wet wipes. You pulled one out of its bag, sighing softly at the gentle smell of peppermint, and you immediately began to wipe down Bob’s face and neck. 

“Thank you-u-u-u,” he practically sobbed, arms stuck straight out at his sides as you began to slide the wipes under his t-shirt, along his shoulders, under his armpits, his chest, and his waist. “What does it do?,” he asked after a moment, almost afraid to open his eyes for fear that this was all some fever dream and he’d be standing back on the tarmac, dripping sweat. 

“I keep these in my little fridge in the bathroom, with all my skin care stuff,” you hummed sweetly, pulling a fresh wipe out and continuing on the bit of skin where you left off. “It helps me freshen up before I go to bed at night, or when I come back from the gym and I’m just too tired to shower before bed,” you chuckle, ghosting a feather-light kiss over his brow as you continued to work on cooling him down. 

“Feels so good,” he whimpered, and his once red cheeks were now only a soft pink, his breathing returning to a relatively normal pace. 

“Good, baby. You’ll feel better in just a minute, yeah? Got this AC on you, and you smell all peppermint-y,” you teased, and you don’t know if it was the practically obscene noises Bob was letting out, or the way he was absolute putty in your hands, but you let the wipes in your hand dip a little lower into the waistband of his pants. 

A strangled moan escaped Bob’s lips, and you just let one hand pop open the buttons of his pants, sliding them down his legs. 

“Gotta get you completely covered,” you whispered, dropping down to your knees where you began to work on wiping down his thighs. After mere seconds, you glanced up to see a ten already forming in your husband’s boxers, and damn, if that didn’t make a girl’s ego soar. 

“M’sorry,” he almost cried, shivering under your touch. “Just–feels so good. You make me feel so good.”

“I always wanna make you feel good, honey,” you purred, peppering his thighs with kisses and feeling the leftover peppermint oil tingle your lips. You eventually stood back up (despite a noise of protest from your husband) and stripped him down to only his boxers, getting a final fresh wipe out of the pack and letting it drag along his skin. 

“Come sit,” you took his hand, leading him over so he was directly in front of the AC unit, resting on the plush couch as he immediately tossed his head back out let out a pornographic moan, which caused you to clench your thighs together in delight. 

“Y’so good t’me,” Bob practically slurred, completely overwhelmed with the lavish attention he was receiving, and his skin began to prickle when the freezing cold air blew against his minty skin. 

“You deserve it all, Bobby,” you whispered, moving to straddle his hips, your thin pajama pants and his boxers the only thing separating the two of you as you wiped his cheeks down for the final time, before pressing a chaste kiss to the apple of each one. 

Bob said your name with a strangled cry, hips immediately rocking up to get some friction, any friction at all. And who were you to deny such a pretty boy something he wanted so desperately? So you just relaxed yourself slowly, lazily rocking down on his achingly hard cock and letting out a soft moan of your own. 

Your nipples were hard from where they were currently being assaulted by a barrage of cold air from the unit, and they were settled right in front of your husband’s face, which proved to make his next task considerably easier. He hooked his fingers in the straps of your tank top and tugged them down your arms before his lips were wrapped around your right nipple, sucking on it lightly and letting it roll between his teeth. You let out a soft cry, your fingers tangling immediately in his damp hair as you began to rock yourself against him a bit faster. 

It was only a few minutes before he pulled off with an obscenely wet ‘pop’, letting his head rest against your sternum. 

“Y/N–,” Bob choked out, his hips stilling immediately. 

“Okay, sweetheart,” was all you said, lifting yourself just slightly out of his lap to give him a moment to focus. 

It didn’t take him long at all, because just a second later you were being pushed onto your back on the couch, with your lover’s fingers hooked into the waistband of your shorts and panties, sliding them down your legs and tossing them to the floor. Not a moment was wasted as he immediately licked a long, hot stripe between your folds, fingers digging into your hips. 

“Robert,” you gasped, and you swear you could feel that son of a bitch smirk, even face first in your cunt. If his hair wasn’t already a mess, it certainly was now, the way you were tugging on it and rocking your hips against his face to try and get the perfect rhythm. 

It didn’t take long. It never did with Bob. He somehow knew exactly what to do to have you coming on his tongue in five minutes flat, keeping your hips pressed down to the couch. 

“Bobby–,” you tried to warn, but it was too late. At your cry of his name, he gave a certain flick of his tongue and you were coming fast and hard, riding his face like your life depended on it, his tongue pressed flat against your clit as you shook with each pulse of your orgasm.  

You barely had time to think, no less to actually say anything, before he was tugging you into a new position. You were bent over the back of the couch, face perfectly aligned with the air conditioning as Bob got behind you, one knee on the edge of the couch. 

“You ready for me, darlin’?,” he asked, and God, you could have died right there. 

“Always, baby.”

You felt him slide into you smoothly, using one hand to guide himself and the other slide up your body to your hair, gathering a handful and giving you a harsh tug. The way he bent you had your chest getting covered with cold air, nipples hard enough to cut diamonds. 

“Fuck, you always feel so fuckin’ good,” he moaned, putting his other knee on the couch as he began to piston his hips against your ass, the slapping sounds your skin made filling your small apartment, loud enough to be heard even over the roaring AC. 

You, however, were unable to respond, due to the absolute overwhelming pleasure that was coursing through your body. Your head and neck began to ache deliciously, and the way the head of Bob’s cock brushed against your sweet spot with each thrust had you mewling under his hands. 

“I’m not gonna–,” Bob grunted, and you understood, Whenever he was needy, he never lasted long, and that was certainly fine by you. Like you said–it was an ego boost. 

“S’okay, baby,” you panted, and he reached forward to play with one of your tits, his chest pressed to your back as he fucked you even harder. 

“So good for me. Fuckin’--fillin’ my pussy up. Fuck, Bobby, you’re gonna make me come again,” you practically sobbed, and the fact that the two of you were sweating from exertion but also cool from the air conditioning made everything that more sensitive. 

The praise went straight to Bob’s dick, and you could feel it twitching already. 

“Please–,” he gasped, trying so hard to last until he could make you come again. 

“Go ahead, honey. Come for me. Come for me, Bobby,” you groaned, wincing in pleasure at how your sensitive cunt was already teetering on the edge of orgasm. 

You had barely finished your command before Bob was spilling himself inside of you, letting out a high-pitched whine as he emptied himself. He managed to let the hand that was in your hair slide down your body and move to your pussy, fingers rubbing quickly at your clit. 

“Baby, come for me. Wanna feel you come on my cock,” he practically begged, even though he had already orgasmed, he would simply die for the chance to feel you clenching on his softening cock still inside of you, practically milking every bit of come he had given you. 

“Oh, fuck,” you moaned, gripping tight at the back of the couch as you felt your orgasm wash over you for the second time that evening, cringing out softly each time your cunt squeezed your husband’s cock, feeling it nestled deep inside of you. 

Soft whimpered and moans spilled from Bob’s lips, along with various words of filth that didn’t exactly form a coherent sentence, but they were so goddamn sexy all the same. 

As he pulled out slowly, he leaned over to press a soft kiss to the small of your back before two of you landed in a messy pile on the couch, trying to catch your breath. 

You curled up next to him, almost (dare you say) chilly from the constant cold air on your skin, and your eyes closed to enjoy those post-coital moments together before you had to get up and clean yourselves off. 

“You know,” Bob started, fingertips brushing lightly over your sides. “Bet we could really cool down in the shower.”

taglist: @walkonthewiidside​

people that might be interested in this idk: @bradshawsbaby​ @callsignbob​ @thebradleybradshaw​

#top gun #top gun: maverick #top gun fic #top gun imagine #top gun: maverick fic #top gun: maverick imagine #robert floyd #bob floyd #robert 'bob' floyd #robert floyd x you #robert floyd x reader #robert floyd smut #robert floyd imagine #robert floyd fic #bob floyd x you #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd smut #bob floyd imagine #bob floyd fic #robert 'bob' floyd x reader #robert 'bob' floyd x you #robert 'bob' floyd smut #robert 'bob' floyd imagine #robert 'bob' floyd fic #my writing #smut #my fic #peppermint

[ang3l-fac33]

I’ve noticed you did a platonic Lucifer fic! I don’t get much luck finding others who do so, so might i request a platonic one too?

With human reader (male or gn, whichever) who moved into an apartment (plot twist: It used to belong to a satanist cult) and they accidentally trigger a summoning and Lucifer appears, and is just as confused about how he arrived.

But Reader (like many of us can agree) has just about had it with the world and at this point are unfazed with the bullshit in their life so they’re like whatever about it and even welcome Lucifer to just chill and hang out. Cue Reader being like, “Want some microwaved pizza rolls?” Or “Ever played Mario kart?” Which just makes Lucifer even MORE CONFUSED, cause he has no idea what any of that stuff is.

So the entire time they’re hanging out it’s just good wholesome moments, and for reader it might be nothing, but for Lucifer, it’s what he needed…a friend…a friend to get him through bad times…

Please make Lucifer the goofy guy that he is in the series! I need that precious short king to have a buddy!

my best friend is the devil! lucifer x reader

warnings: not proofread, rushed at the end.

genre: fluff, platonic

—

you groaned as you flopped down on your couch, your body sticky with sweat. it was a particularly hot day out today, and the mixture of the heat and the struggle to carry all those heavy boxes into your new house made you feel like you were dying. you would have bribed the moving truck into helping you move in your boxes, but today you were just done with the world and people in general, and the last thing you wanted was some stranger waltzing into your brand new house.

…’brand new’ might not be the best word to describe your new apartment. apparently this place had been owned by people who ran a cult. you had to admit that the place was a little worn down and creepy but you were sure there was nothing to worry about. the people are gone now and probably took their satanic shit with them.

you closed your eyes and leaned your head back against the headrest, really deserving it after having carried a shit tone of heavy boxes into your house. all you wanted to do right now was relax, but it seemed your stomach had other ideas. your tummy rumbled, signaling your need for food, and you groaned. you didn’t even realize how hungry you were until your stomach notified it for you.

you sighed and opening your eyes to stare at the ceiling, just now remembering that you were very sweaty and uncomfortable. maybe it was time to have a nice long bath, then get yourself something to eat. pizza rolls maybe? that sounded good as fuck right about now. you deserved some damn pizza rolls.

so with that you peeled yourself off of your couch and began rummaging through the dozens of boxes that were scattered all across the room, looking for where you put the box you stored your clothes in. you were a very unorganized person and sometimes you curse yourself for it. once you picked out a pair of comfortable clothes, you headed towards the bathroom for your nice, relaxing shower.

thirty minutes later you came out of the bathroom feeling much more relaxed and content than before, the feel of the warm water calming you down. now for the thing you were most excited for. pizza rolls. you made a bee line towards the kitchen, opening up the freezer that you remembered putting the pizza rolls in earlier. you had taken a quick break from carrying in boxes to head to the store earlier in the day, knowing that you would be hungry by the time the day ended. way to go for being prepared!

you took the delicious food from the freezer and put them on a plate, popping them in the stove a few seconds later. these little shits couldn’t heat up any faster? you we’re starving! with an impatient groan, you backed away and decided to wonder while you waited for your pizza rolls to cook. you hadn’t really gotten to explore your new place yet due to moving boxes all day, so you took your chance.

the house was pretty nice, no sign of cultists living here previously. maybe it was just a rumor to scare people? even if it was true you really didn’t care. if they’re gone there gone! you really didn’t react too much to anything anymore, too tired and done with the world to do so. satanic cults wasnt the weirdest thing you had experienced in your life.

as you were walking you noticed a book on one of the tables in the dining room. you raised a brow, not remembering leaving any books laying about. but being the curious person you are, you headed over towards the table and picked it up. it was dusty and looked a bit old, worn down a little.

you couldn’t make word of the books cover due to the dust, so you blew on it, making the dust fly into your face. you coughed and fanned the air around you with your hand, making a noise of irritation. after you managed to clear all the dust from your face, you looked back down at the book, only for your eyebrows to rase in surprise. this was a satanic book! more specifically, a book to summon all sorts of things! so much for taking all their shit with them. so it wasn’t a rumor after all. huh.

with growing curiosity, you opened the book and flipped to a random page. the page was stained with red which was concerning, but you chose to move past that. the words on the page were in a different language that you didn’t know. “what the?.. what language even is this?” you mumbled to yourself, squinting to see if you could get a better look. you then began to try and read the words out loud, not knowing what you had just caused.

“fuck this.” you had said after a few more seconds of trying to read the language out loud, slamming the book closed. your pizza rolls should be done soon anyway. you placed the book back down on the table and stretched, making a soft groaning noise of satisfaction. but just as you were about to head to the kitchen, a cold gust of air swept over you, seeming to make the whole room freezing in an instant.

"the hell?.." you muttered, wrapping your arms around yourself in an attempt to warm yourself up. but before you could dwell on the sudden coldness the ground started to shake violently. "shit!" you cursed, scrambling to grab hold of something so you didn't fall. what the fuck was happening? was it an earthquake?

crack!

the ground in front of you suddenly split open, and you watched in surprise as flames erupted from the ground, instantly swarming the apartment with heat. huh.. it's a good thing you lived on the first floor. you backed up and squinted, the bright lights of the flaming fire messing with your vision. something suddenly came flying out of the fire, barreling right into you and knocking you both to the ground. a few seconds later the fire had burnt out, leaving the apartment the way it was moments before. it was as if nothing ever happened.

when you came back to your senses the first thing you noticed was something heavy laying on top of you. you opened your eyes only to be faced with a man sprawled out on top of you, seeming just as dazed as you were. well this was interesting. the stranger rubbed his head and groaned, his eyes slowly opening to meet yours. there was a brief pause where the two of you just stared at each other in shock, neither of you moving or speaking.

the man soon seemed to realize the position the two of you were in, and he quickly scrambled off you while stuttering out an apology. you sat up and stared at the man, more curious than anything. he continued to ramble while you studied him. pale skin, red cheeks, sharp teeth… did you actually manage to summon something from the depths of hell? it would explain all the fire and shit..

“..what the fuck are you? are you a demon or what?” you blurted out, stopping the strange man mid apology. he looked slightly offended, scoffing as he adjusted his hat. “i’m the king of hell actually.” he corrected as if you were supposed to know that. he then glanced around, seeming to remember that he was in an unknown place. his offended look quickly shifted to one of confusion and nervousness.

“…where am i? this isn’t the hotel..” he paused to look around frantically. “this isn’t even hell! ohhh boy…” he seemed a bit panicked now, clutching at the cane he had appeared with. this guy wasn’t all that scary or intimidating for being the king of hell. you couldn’t help but to be amused. you sat up, cocking your head to the side. “why are you so short?” you asked bluntly, not seeming to care if you upset him at all.

the so called ‘king of hell’ paused, his cheeks flushing in what seemed to be embarrassment and a bit of anger. he began to stutter, trying his best to seem intimidating. “wh— do you know who i am?! i can have you killed with just the snap of my fingers! you can’t just call the king of hell short!” he pouted, making him seem more like a whiny child more than anything. you snorted in amusement.

“sure.. whatever you say. anyway.. welcome to earth! i accidentally summoned you with this book.” you picked up the summoning book, letting the demon have a good look at it. “it belonged to some creepy cultists that lived here before me. speaking of, i’m pretty sure that i managed to summon you before they even could! guess i’m just that good.” lucifer’s eyes went wide once more, and he snatched the book from your hand.

lucifer forgot that he could even be summoned in all honesty. it’s been a while since someone had successfully done so, but even then the last person who did manage to summon him was some teenager messing around with summonings, believing that it was all fake. the kid ended up running away and screaming, and lucifer just ended up leaving after that. he was a little confused on why you didn’t seem to react the same. you didn’t seem phased in the slightest!

suddenly there was a ding, and you both turned your heads to where it came from. it was from the kitchen, but more specifically the oven. “fuck yeah my pizza rolls are ready!” you quickly hopped to your feet, your stomach growling in anticipation. then you paused, remembering that the literal king of hell was in your apartment.

you turned to look at him. “…do you want some pizza rolls?” you asked after a few seconds of silence, not really sure what to say next.

“…what in the ever living hell are pizza rolls?”

~~~~

you watched in surprise as lucifer began to down most of the pizza rolls on the plate. when he asked you what pizza rolls are you immediately sat him down on your couch and made him try them. no living (or dead) person should go on with their life without trying pizza rolls at least once. but you didn’t expect him to like it… that much. having the devil at your place was surprisingly calm. you managed to have a nice conversation with him as you took the pizza rolls out, even exchanging each other’s names.

“these things are so much better than most foods back down in hell!” he said, his mouth stuffed with a bunch of pizza rolls. “golly.. humans have it nice up here! beats being down there in hell.” you cringed at that, internally disagreeing with that. the world was a pretty fucked up place but pizza rolls made up for that. kind of.

“so.. do you guys have mario kart in hell or?..” lucifer paused, looking up at you with raised brows. “what’s mario kart?” lucifer’s response made you sigh in disappointment. “no pizza rolls AND no mario kart? hopefully i don’t end up stuck in hell when i die.” you muttered, grabbing the remote to turn on the tv to hook your console to.

~~~~

“damn it!” you shouted in frustration, throwing your controller on the ground. “how the fuck do you keep winning?! this is your first time ever playing this game!”

lucifer gave a slow frog blink, a little confused. if he was being honest he was just pressing random buttons and moving the joystick a bunch. he didn’t understand how he won either, but he was proud! he gave a sharp toothed grin, looking smug despite being just as confused as you. “i guess that i’m just better.”

you glared at him before huffing, plopping a pizza roll into your mouth. “whatever..” you mumbled, pouting. despite your irritation it was clear that you were having just as much fun as lucifer was, laughing and cheering every time the two of you were in the middle of a match. it was surprisingly… fun. who knew having the devil at your place could be so much fun?

the two of you played and talked for hours, and lucifer ended up eating all your pizza rolls. it was a bit disappointing since you barely got to have any but he seemed happy so you weren’t going to complain. but of course all good things must come to an end, and lucifer had to leave. something about visiting his daughter at some hotel? you didn’t know hell had hotels or that the devil himself had a daughter, but it wasn’t the weirdest thing you’ve heard today.

it ended with lucifer leaving through some scary looking portal, promising he would stop by at some point so that the two of you could do this again. he even left you his phone number! you weren’t sure if you could even text him since he was in hell, but oh well.

you flopped down on your couch again with a content sigh. you had befriended the king of hell and had no regrets. thank you to that cultist’s book of summoning spells! you managed to make a new friend, even if he wasn’t exactly human. you were content, happy.. it was a good idea to move here.

(a/n: i actually had so much fun writing this! i might actually make this a series if it gets popular enough. thank you for requesting this and i’m sorry it got a bit rushed at the end, there’s some personal issues going on irl rn but i was determined to finish it ;w; so sorry for the wait.)

#lucifer morningstar x reader #hazbin lucifer #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel oneshots #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x you #lucifer magne #hazbin hotel headcanon

[prettynice8]

Kinkmas Day 11: Body marking

Pairing: Yuta Okkotsu x male reader

This guy

Warnings: Kissing, no actual sexy times, in public kind of, very queer reader if yk yk I can say that, you can't but I can, body marking DUH

Word count: 1447

It was a normal day at school, teachers talked about random shit, well teacher, napping in class, training, that one weird emo guy with the chef ass looking outfit staring at you, just girly things.

Yeah, that's weird, you always see that kid staring at you, and it's not like some loser staring at you, it's Yuta Okkotsu, the it girl of this school. Some say he'll surpass Gojo, a special grade in only second year, and you two have only talked a handful of times. So why the fuck would he care about you.

Now some may say that he's looking at something else, but this happens too often to be just that. To be fair, he isn't staring at you with mal intent, or like he's staring into your very soul, just quick little glances, but like a lot.

You think it's a little weird but never give it more thought than that, well that's actually not true at all. You wonder about it quite often actually. Like why is this hot, emo, country crippling guy staring at you so much.

He's also always around when you're training with students, which is rare because you're too delicate to get your hands dirty, but like he's rarely if ever around when other kids are practicing.

Speaking of which, you are sitting down in the grass, watching the first years battle it out with Maki and Panda when, speaking of the devil, Yuta finally makes his move and sits by you.

"Hi," he greeted, a light smile on his lips.

"Hello," You greeted him, smiling back at him as well. It's silent for a while after that, you not really knowing how to talk to someone on such a high pedestal such as him, and he's socially awkward. The silence is finally broken when he gains the courage to speak.

"So, what do you think of the fight?" He asked, clearly uncomfortable.

"I don't really care, I'm only here because Nobara and I were supposed to get coffee after her training." You replied.

"Why aren't you out there?" He asked yet another question, wanting the conversation to keep on going.

"And ruin my hair. I would also have to change my clothes, then change them back, and fight," You droned on, "I mean sure Megumi and Yuji are kinda hot, that might be a good enough reason but not today." You finished flatly.

Yuta was shocked when you said those two were hot, well not that much. He kind of expected you were gay by the way you walked, talked, did everything. Good for him, now he knows for sure.

"And then I could chip a nail which is just super incon-"

"Wait, you're gay?" He cut you off, you look at him like he's the dumbest person on earth, which he kind of is right now.

"DUH!" You shout, all the people training stop, Megumi mid punch from Panda's stomach, at your sudden outburst.

"What was that for?!" Nobara shouted back,

"Well, you see-" you cut him off now, "He asked if I was gay." You said nonchalantly.

Yuji, Megumi, Nobara, Panda, and Maki all give Yuta the same look you did, then they erupt into laughter.

"He might as well have a light up rainbow sign." Yuji said in between bursts of laughter.

"Did you really not know?" Megumi asked, even sneaking in a chuckle or two.

"I-I-I don't know." He stuttered, a little embarrassed having everyone laugh at him. You put your hand on his shoulder, so you don't talk over onto the ground, instantly causing blush to form on his cheeks.

"It's ok Yuta, not all of us can pick up on such clues, unless those clues are ramming into you like a fire truck." Nobara said, causing everyone to laugh more. Yuta starts to get very nervous and almost gets up and walks away, until he sees you genuinely smiling at him.

"Don't worry about it, the important thing is that I'm open for business for you." You stated, the laughter carrying on into your comment, Yuji and Nobara are actually lying on the ground from hilarity. "But be quick, who knows how long it is before I settle with those two." gesturing over to Yuji and Megumi.

Yuji blows a kiss at you, while Megumi looks away, blush creeping onto his face. It's at this point when Yuta starts to laugh too, shocking everyone, but the infectiousness of his laughter bleeds onto everyone else, causing another outburst.

After a while of pointless conversation that doesn't progress the plot, you and Nobara finally go to get coffee. After you two get your drinks and try each other out, you both find a seat and begin to talk.

"That Yuta guy definitely likes you." She stated, like it's some casual thing that everyone knows.

"No, he doesn't, today was like the first day he's actually come to me." You spoke. "Though he does look at me an awful lot."

"You think." She stated bluntly. "Do you like him?"

"I mean I don't know about dating him, but I would totally suck his dick." You answered, you both shared a good laugh from your reply too.

You both make your way to the dorms, saying your goodbyes and exiting into your own respective rooms. It was on your way when you saw Yuta.

"Hiiii!" You hollered, waving your hand at him, much more comfortable now with him. He waves back,

"Hi," he said, walking up to you. You two stop in the middle of the hallway.

"Where have you been?" You asked.

"In my dorm, I came out to see if I could get in a good training session." He answered, "Wanna join?"

"Absolutely not." You stated bluntly.

"Well, it was worth a try." He said, looking a little dejected that you turned him down so quickly, but it wasn't like a date or anything and he half expected you to say no, and then an idea pops into his head.

"Would you like to do something else?" He asked, smiling that sweet innocent smile.

"What were you thinking?" You asked back. He answers by pulling you into a tight broom closet, locking the door behind him, and then pushing you into the wall and kissing you. This isn't exactly what masterminds are made of but not a terrible idea.

You were more surprised about the insane speed in which he did this and not about the kiss itself, which you kindly return when he backs away.

His hands go for your ass, squeezing and groping it. Your hands go to his hair, it feels soft yet also oily.

"Are you sure this is ok?" he asked, not wanting to do something you're not comfortable with, such a bare minimum gentleman. You answer by pulling him back into the kiss, opening your mouth to grant his tongue access, which he gladly accepts.

Your tongues dance together in a sweet embrace, his then seemingly exploring your entire mouth. Your body gets goosebumps from the exchange, your pants also becoming tighter.

He takes parts off from yours, only to place it on your neck. He kisses it, finding your sensitive parts and then gently biting into them, causing you to shriek.

"Are you ok?" He asked.

"Well, please continue." You replied.

Continue he does, fully biting into your neck and then licking the parts he bit. His teeth attacked every square inch of it, biting, kissing, and licking the whole thing.

Your neck becomes littered with hickeys, almost the entire thing red and indented with bite marks, not that you're complaining. You're surprised with how well he's doing, no way he's had experience with his socially awkward ass, he truly is a prodigy.

He shows his genius more when he lifts up your shirt to suck on your nipples, licking over the right one and biting it, while fondling the left one with his hand. The sensations make you even harder, apparently having the same effect on him, as you can feel his hard on through his pants. Your hands tighten in his hair as he starts to bite more aggressively on your left nipple, pulling at the other one.

He goes from your nipples to the rest of your chest. biting and licking at it, blush covering your face from the act. You're so hard that you feel like you could cum right then and there... until this mother fucker stops.

He whispers in your ear, 'If you want more, follow me into my dorm." He then leaves the closet in all of your disheveled glory.

Now you know why he's been staring at you.

THE END

#x reader #x male reader #x male reader smut #x reader smut #anime x male reader smut #anime x reader #anime x reader smut #reader #anime x male reader #male reader #anime smut #reader smut #male reader smut #anime #yuta #yuta x reader smut #yuta smut #yuta x male reader #yuta x reader #yuta x male reader smut #jjk #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk x reader smut #jjk x male reader #jjk x male reader smut

[my3rzs]

could i have a xavier thorpe request with an established relationship and the reader gets injured by the hyde or during the fight with crackstone? Thank you im just a sucker for angst.

KEEP YOU SAFE | x.t x fem!reader

summary: after getting a fight with xavier, you get injured

notice: she/her pronouns, swearing, reader gets hurt, overprotective xavier? bianca and xavier were never together, bianca is not a bully in here (i think thats all)

pairing: xavier thorpe x reader

a/n: i spent maybe 5 mins brainstorming abt the summary :’), but reblogs would help and im literally too embarrassed to read this so i could proofread it but enjoy lol, but check the hashtag #xavizgirl so you can see all my works there ahaha

you and xavier had a fight last week and you haven’t talked to him ever since because he was jealous of a guy he saw you walking to class with,

though it was really stupid, you have to admit you did miss him a lot, you missed his stupid face, how he peppered you with kisses, how he handed you paintings of yourself or one of your favorite things you told him about, cuddling with him almost every night, you just miss him in general.

“hey, do you wanna hang out today? maybe go shopping?” bianca asks

you were too busy staring at a picture with xavier and you in it,

“huh?” you asked cluelessly as you heard muffled noises from her mouth

“let me guess, xavier? you’ve been ranting about the fight between you two for about a week, ya know?” the siren stated

“he’s just so stupid, he didn’t even let me finish what i was trying to say after he pulled me off the fucking guy!” you explained

“well, maybe you should just try confronting the boy. who knows you two just need to talk?” she answers

“well maybe i could do that, but what am i gonna say to him? it’s gonna be so awkward” you whined

“just explain how you’ve been feeling about the fight, how you barely know the guy, and stuff, but it has to be sincere and it has to come from your heart” she advised

“i’ll try my best, thank you bianca, i really owe you for this one okay?” you gave her a smile

“goodluck, y/n!” she gave you a thumbs up

-

you pulled out your phone go text xavier,,

y/n: hey can we talk?

xay: uh sure? why?

y/n: can we plz just talk

xay: ok, when and where

y/n: like rn, and maybe our spot in the woods

xay: ok be there rn

you hearted his message and put your cellphone into your pocket, you were walking in the forest so that you could meed up with xavier and make things right until a large, hairy, grey, big eyes, bloodshot monster stumbled you over, it looked like a beast or some sort of creature. it trapped you and before you knew it, it’s claw’s scratched your skin through your clothes twice and you were a literal bleeding mess. you tried to run as fast as you could and tried to grab your phone so that you could call an ambulance or xavier but realized you have dropped it while running, and that was all you remembered.

xavier was still waiting for you and he was starting to get impatient and think he was getting pranked, he has texted you nonstop and sent you calls but it kept going to voicemail, eventually.. he gave up and tried to go back to nevemore but he saw your unconscious body and you were bleeding.

“y/n? what the fuck!” he screamed as he saw you

“everything’s gonna be fine, everything’s gonna be fine” he said running to your body panicking and immediately called the ambulance

once they have arrived they took you into the truck, while xavier was so awfully worried and kept blaming himself while pacing, bianca and ajax walked up to him and asked what happened,

“it’s y/n.. she got fucking attacked!” the artist cursed

“hey, it’s gonna be alright, okay? the nurses and doctors are gonna make sure she’s gonna make it” ajax calms him down

“and besides, we can also visit her. dont worry, we’re all here for you xavier” the siren added

it has been 3 weeks and you still haven’t woken up, xavier was so stressed, his lips are so dry, he looked like he hasn’t eaten in about a week, and he has very dark eye bags, it was the weekend and he decided to go visit you.

he opened the door and saw that you still haven’t woken up, he sighed and put one of his letters on the table.

“i miss you” he muttered while grabbing your cold hands

“it’s all my fault” the blonde boy sighs

you opened your eyes slowly and saw him tearing up a bit, “xavi..?” you say

“y/n! you’re awake!” he looked up and saw that you were awake so he quickly wiped his tears with his sleeve.

“were you crying, xavi?” you asked and tried to sit up and but felt a pain in your stomach and hissed in pain,,

“fuck!” you cried

“hey, hey, hey, the doctors say your stomach is still not okay, so they don’t recommend sitting for now, yeah? but they say it will heal a bit fast, so you’re gonna be okay, alright?” he dodged your question

“xavi.. you’re ignoring my question” you gave him a frown

“i’m not crying, silly. and even if i was it wouldn’t matter, we need to focus on you right now, bubs” he points to you

“and i kinda want to apologize, for you know.. being jealous and overprotective, i’m the reason you got here..” he says

���don’t blame yourself, i should’ve waited for the next day” you chucked reaching out for his hand

he held your hand and kissed your forehead, “i won’t let anything happen to you, i promise i’m gonna keep you safe, okay?” he assured

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

i didnt know how to end this and got lazy ahahaha

#percy hynes white #percy hynes white x reader #xavier thorpe x y/n #xavier thorpe angst #xavier thorpe fluff #xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thrope x you #xavier thorpe #xavier thorpe smut #xavier thorpe x fem!reader #xavier x you #xavier smut #xavier thrope imagine #xavier thrope fanfic #xavier thrope x reader #xavier thrope fluff #xavier thorpe imagine #xavier thorpe fanfiction #xavier thorpe fanfic #xavier thrope smut #xavier thrope x y/n #xavier thrope #xavizgirl

[fhrlclln]

hi. literally JUST found your blog. dude i read both parts of you older man eddie fix and let’s just say i’m fucking LOSING IT. LITERALLG LOSING IT. OH MY GOD THAT WAS SO GOOD KFKSKFKGKGKDKKGGK PLEASE NEVER STOP

AND MAKE A THIRD PART OF OLDER!EDDIE WHERE THEY GO ON A DATE PLS PLS PLS IM DESPRATE

bABES I GOT U. TY SO MUCH y’all r nasty. also, sorry for the wait, i have conflicts with my schedule this week and i am currently vv busy. <3

older!mechanic! eddie x fem! reader pt. 3

a wonderful date and splendid fucking? also i’d like to clarify that reader here is about 22 and eddie is 32. so it’s set in 1998. ;>

—> pt. 1 , pt. 2

nsfw/smut under the cut

｡･:*˚:✧｡

your feet carries you to the other side of the road, heart pounding and thoughts yearning. the streets were dark, only the post-lights illuminating the whole block.

it’s been exactly 5 days since the little horny incident inside of your room. shameful it felt but you didn’t give a shit. and for 5 days without your parents home, you got the whole trailer for yourself— including inviting eddie in to bless your room. the sheets smelled like him, heavy scent of sex and cologne mixed in the sheets alongside the cigar smoke, and maybe a little bit of weed. you warned him not to stain your sheets again when he‘s showing up in his work overalls. he mostly stayed through the night, he had work in the morning through night, so you were sometimes left alone to wake up seeing him leave.

and here you are, heading straight to his mechanic shop just near from the movie rental store, family video. he had informed you a while ago in the morning as he was about to leave, that he’ll take you on the date today he promised after work. you were giddy, feeling like a teenager again. you agreed, shyly kissing him goodbye, as if you’re a couple— you hoped. of course, you craved more than that fantastic sex, everything seemed to click whenever the post-sex conversation comes around. you, cuddling in his arms, talking about everything with him.

your eyes sparkled seeing him now in your view, talking with a customer, chief jim hopper you recognized. eddie looked extra good, cloth thrown over his shoulder. smiling at the older man with his arms crossed, sweat still glistening on his arms, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. he hadn’t shaved, the prominent stubble on his face showing. you grinned, waiting bit until they’re done to surprise him.

“done me a good fix-up again, munson. can’t thank you enough. joyce’s been itching me to get this oil changed.”

“no problem, chief. happy to help.” he smiled, waving off to his last customer seeing the chief leave with the fixed truck, knowing the byers-hoppers family is waiting for him.

now all he needed to do was clean up and close the shop. eager to get back to you so he can finally fucking get you on that date. he rounded to the back of the garage, tired as ever as he wiped the cloth on his greasy hands, tossing back the cloth next to the unorganized set of tools on the shelf. not noticing your light steps as you entered inside, the smell of rubber and gas in the air, making your nose scrunch. eddie was still busy putting things back, certainly annoyed of the clutter he had created throughout.

“gonna need that fucking cleaned, ah shit—“ he sighed to himself, picking up a plier on the floor. suddenly, a tap on his shoulder caught him off-guard as he swiftly turned around, not expecting anyone as he was about to hit the intruder with the pliers he was holding, he stopped.

it was you.

“baby.” he sighed, seeing you smile. “i thought i was gonna get jumped.”

“defending yourself with pliers, mr. munson?” you teased seeing his hand still raised in the air with the mini pliers. he looked intimidating enough you guessed, if he was going to hit an intruder with it.eddie rolled his eyes at you as he sets the tool down to press a chaste kiss on your cheek. you leaned into his touch eagerly.

“could poke their eyes out and shit. that little thing is sharp.” he grinned boyishly as the stubble of his chin tickled you how close he is to your face, he looked into your eyes, raising a brow at your sudden visit.

“thought i said i’d pick you up after my work?”

“s-sorry, i got a little excited. just wanna surprise you.” you bashfully mumbled. his heart thumped hearing that.

“for our date, ey?” he teased, kissing you again, on the lips this time. you whined against his mouth as he chuckled, mumbling against your lips. “you just couldn’t even fucking wait.”

“i missed you.” you whispered, circling your arms around his neck. eddie let out a low chuckle seeing you so desperate for his touch. he did missed you too, all day he’s been thinking what he’ll spoil you tonight for the date. his motor-grease stained hands dropped to his sides, a little cautious now, afraid he’s gonna get you dirty.

“as much as i would love to hold you, sweetheart. ‘m kinda greasy.” he whispers, kissing your cheek again. you huffed, visibly riled up as he stepped back with a smirk.

“i don’t mind a little grease…” you quipped, still a little shy as checked him out, leaning against the car behind you. gaze suggestive. he swore he might’ve pounced on you here and then.

“nu-uh, i’m not gonna fuck you here. it’ll be bad for business.” he chuckled, you blushed, rolling your eyes seeing him so smug as he unbuttons his overalls. familiar white tank top showing underneath as eddie busied himself in cleaning himself up in front of you. your eyes focused on him. mainly on his bulging arms, littered with tattoos over the years, you guessed. his biceps were mainly the killer part of his body you so adored, he’s buff, probably from lifting heavy objects in his profession, maybe working out from time to time.

he just looks like a fucking metal dilf.

well he’s not… yet. but, you could certainly make him one, if you could afford a child. that would be a thought you’d consider as you bit your lip, still checking him out.

“if you’re gonna keep staring like that. i might just make it true, sweets.” he warned, feeling himself harden each second seeing you innocently bat your eyelashes to him. “don’t wanna miss our date.” he added.

“you’re unfair.” you pouted making him laugh as he shrugged off the sleeves of his overalls, tying it to his waist as neared towards you, offering a cheeky smile.

“go wait by the van. i won’t be too long.” he murmured, kissing you again as you hummed and nodded. he kissed the tip of your nose before you complied. your scent leaving behind as he stared at your ass before he quickly changed back to get on with it already. hitting something along the way.

you could hear his clumsiness back in the garage. you giggled, waiting by his van for a couple of minutes. the ache in your legs a bit annoying, but you learned to be patient, knowing it’ll get what you want in the end. eddie was practically jogging towards you, seeing his hair still nestled in the collar of printed tee he wore, probably a band merch and a slutty pair of tight ripped jeans with chains dangling complimenting his whole intimidating persona, plus the scruff facial hair. he looked delectable.

“ready for your world to be rocked?” he opens the passenger side for you.

“as ever.” you nodded, fixing his hair a bit as you eagerly hopped in his van.

the start of the date was spectacular. he took you out to a diner, he was a little insecure knowing a diner wasn’t that of a fancy first date basis. but you didn’t cared, as long as you get to be with him then everywhere with him is fine. you talked, a lot, and he as well. you got to know that he actually has an uncle living in the neighborhood, just that he had move out a couple years ago with him having a stable business. most of his friends are still in hawkins, you also got to know about the incident back in ‘86 before the supposed earthquake happened.

“so you were eddie the freak.” you quoted, shocked and somewhat sad that he had such a bad reputation in this small town back then. “that’s so horrible.”

eddie winced at that. “took them years for that title to get it out of their mouths.” he shrugged, looking somewhat sad now. “but the charges dropped. i’m a free man now since then, sweetheart. people learn to forget.”

“still.” you frowned, knowing how fucked up he must felt for the whole town to blame him for a murder he didn’t do. “that must’ve been hard on you. having the whole hawkins call you that.”

“somewhat.” he nodded bitterly then smiling widely seeing you pout so cute, knowing your empathy.

“don’t go being sad for me, sweets. wanna see you happy.” he grasped your hand, bringing it close to his lips as he kissed it. “it’s all in the past.”

“would’ve defended you back then.” you sighed, giving a small smile.

“and you were 10 back then.” he sipped his milkshake, smirking as your eyes widened.

“don’t r-remind me that!” you huffed and blushed, the age gap between you two wasn’t a big deal for eddie, you were both consenting adults. but he somehow liked to tease you how you got charmed by his old-ass. even though he looked like a intimidating middle-aged man, you got to learn he had a boyish side of him that fitted his personality perfectly. he’s still eddie from ‘86, just a little matured, old and hotter.

and here the two of you are, laying down on his couch this time, watching a movie on the t.v. hocus pocus playing through. your whole body was snuggled up against his, warmth radiating from him. he took a shower, complaining he ought to smell good before you latch on him. he smelled good, his hair was slightly damp, he had a cigarette on his lips as he lazily took a whiff from time to time, focusing on the screen.

dilf. you screamed in the inside, how the fuck were you so lucky right now? your eyes hungrily glanced at him slyly. you weren’t really paying attention to the movie from the start, you just knew ‘i put a spell on you’ was playing, focused on the man snuggled up against you. eddie wasn’t that oblivious as he puffed a smoke away, speaking up.

“you really do have a staring problem, don’t you?”

“h-hm?” you averted your gaze from him to o the screen, thighs clenching, his hand on your thigh squeezed tight as you wiggled at his touch. eddie leaned down to place a kiss on your jaw, the residue smell of the cigar on his mouth a nice seductive touch. you keened at it, giggling as he descended down to your neck, peppering kisses.

“eddie.” you whined, feeling him nip your neck, as winifred sanderson sung the chorus in the background. your neck craned to give him access as eddie chuckled against your soft skin, latching away as he stubbed his cigar on the ashtray.

“you’ve been eye-fucking me all day, sweetheart.” he casually says, pulling you close.

“weren’t you the one who started that first?” you challenged, implying on the eye-fucking, remembering the time he had fixed your dad’s car, you were there, sitting patiently beside your dad while he sent you teasing glances from time to time. he was bold to do that while you were literally beside your father, blushing furiously at it.

“well, yeah.” he rolled his eyes, the smug grin on his lips never fading. “but look at what that did now. i got you.” he cooed, covering your neck with kisses again, making you ticklish when his lips grazed that sweet spot. he peppered more on that.

“you’re i-infuriating.”

“and you’re a fucking vixen.” he growled. “since that day you invited me in, that innocent persona of yours was gone, huh?” he pushed you down the couch as he towered over you, the ache in his jeans too painful. “you just couldn’t even wait now. so impatient, sweetheart. fucking greedy.”

“eddie, please—“ you squealed as he ripped off the bottom of your clothes, getting you in your underwear as he shrugged off your top as quickly as possible. almost ripping the cloths. he threw them away somewhere as he basked in the bareness of your torso and your legs. the marks he left yesterday still prominent on your soft skin. his tongue stuck out of habit as he reached for the back of his shirt to pull it over his head. you whimpered seeing his bare chest, chest hair prominent, his pale skin littered with tattoos and fading scars you’ve noticed yet did not pester to ask him about those. his guitar pick necklace rest beautifully on his pecks.

“be quiet.” he shushed you, gesturing to take your bra off. you complied, arching your back a bit as you unclasped it, your breasts bouncing out of it’s confines.

“jesus.” he muttered seeing your plumps of flesh jiggle before him as you tossed the bra away, setting back down on the couch comfortably. he grinned, descending down as you opened your legs eagerly for him. his hands touched your thighs, mounding the plump flesh as he kissed your knee then downwards. the stubble of his chin tickling you as you giggled at it.

“your beard’s tickling me.” you huffed, mixing with pleasure as eddie ignored you, focused on the wet patch on your cotton panties. wet and waiting for him.

“yeah, you fucking like it.” he quipped, curling his fingers on the hem of it as he roughly pulled it down to your ankles. your eyes widened as your bare cunt hit the cold air, eddie chuckled seeing you wriggle, he sat back down as he kissed your inner thigh, looking straight back at you with eager eyes. you blinked seeing him smirk.

“eddie…”

“be quiet while i eat your pussy out. wouldn’t want our christian neighbors hearing us.” he warned, diving in between your legs with no further warning. you squealed quietly feeling his tongue lap your wet cunt.

he ate you out like a man starved off his last meal. he was messy, so sloppy with his tongue circling your clit, sucking the engorged bead in his mouth, moaning at the same time with your tang taste. the vibrations sent pleasure all over your body as your hands gripped his curly hair. he groaned at the harsh pull, liking the way your thighs were squeezing his head. he could die like this, an honorable man’s death, dying between your legs and breathing in your pussy out like oxygen. god, would it make him more than happy. he lapped, sucked, shoved his fingers in to ready your cunt. eager to shove his whole cock in, remembering seeing your face of pleasure as he slurped your cunt out. he fumbled with jeans now as your quiet whimpers and moans riled him up.

he wasn’t going to hold back now.

“f-fuck!” you mumbled in the cushion of his couch. gripping the weed-scented cushion tight as your knees gave out a while ago. after he fucking ate you out, coaxing at least one powerful orgasm, he manhandled you onto your hands and knees, shoving his cock in, a little rougher but still slow to not hurt you. he fucked you from behind, hands gripping your ass, the sound of skin slapping lewdly filling his trailer.

“eddie, right t-there!” you gasped, the tip of his cock hitting that spongy spot making you see stars as your hand descended down to rub your clit.

eddie grinned. “right there, huh?” he mocked, pounding in harder as he shoved your hand away for his to replace, rubbing your wet bean faster. you sobbed, relishing the way his girth of a cock pound into with no mercy. you mewled, chanting his name like a prayer. your head went mushy, all you could feel and think about was his member, abusing your poor pussy as you babbled your mouth out, managing to keep it hush. eddie craved for your fucked-out brain, so cock-drunk as he is so pussy-drunk now. that title of his spewing out of your mouth now driving him wild.

“mr. munson…”

he shuddered.

“mr. munson, p-please.”

he remembers the first time you uttered that name out. like a aphrodisiac he so wanted to lure him in.

“mr. munson!”

like a fucking siren’s song that’ll drown him here and now.

“eddie—“

that one quiet whimper got him into a frenzy as he fucked himself faster, feeling his balls tighten as well as your cunt around him. he rubbed your clit, his chest pressing against your back, one arm situated at the side of your head for leverage, rutting into ruthlessly as he captured your lips, not caring if his neck would sore. you moaned, titling your head up uncomfortably, hand gripping his bicep, tongue circling with his as one last thrust sent you two over the edge to—

pure fucking euphoria.

eddie rode it out, driving your orgasm high as you milked him tight. your belly snapped, gushing out a bit of your liquid as he pumped you up full of his thick milky cum. you moaned as he grunted, pushing his cock in further, before he removed his hand from your clit, slumping against your body as his mouth panted against yours. you sighed breathlessly, your eyes fluttered staring at his brown ones. just pure affection.

“so g-good, baby. did so good.” he whispered hoarsely, kissing you again, soft and gentle this time. you hummed, reciprocating with ease. your bodies were hot against each other, sweat glistening both your skins. you kissed him so full of passion as you smiled against his lips. your heart thumped, the familiar feelings of butterflies as you pulled away to pressed your forehead to his. relishing the moment of the aftermath. his cock still buried inside you, connecting you two.

“thank you.” you mumbled, pecking his lips, thankful for the date and all. eddie smiled sweetly, his pearls showing briefly as the tip of his nose brushed against yours. something snapped in the moment as his gaze turned serious. the sound of the car in the background earning your attention as you focused on him. he looked like he was about to confess.

he stuttered, heart beating loudly as he admired you, chest full of adoration. “i l—“

“where in the hell is y/n at!?” your eyes both widened at the sound of your father’s voice. you gasped as you looked at eddie with complete shock, cock still buried in your pussy as your parents just fucking arrived back from their anniversary vacation.

“oh fuck.” you groaned as eddie let out a laugh. you glared at him as you squeezed him tight making him groan. putting his whole body weight on you as you yelled at him.

“ohh, fuck indeed, sweetheart.”

｡･:*˚:✧｡

FUCK. literally. they fuck a lot.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x fem! reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #older!eddie #mechanic!eddie #joseph quinn #stranger things #fnhrlcllnwrites #eri’s quick ideas 💡 ｡･:*˚:✧｡

[halfmoondaze]

That’s amazing I’m proud of you 💗

I’m the same anon talking about how stressed I am about my tough situation. Right now, I’m trying to be patient with myself and be hopeful about things

Tomorrow Will Be Kinder

Y/n walked through the front door of their shared apartment. She didn’t want to admit it to herself but she was going through it.

For the past couple of days, she had been working on this group project. Everything was running smoothly at first, communication was going smoothly and everyone had agreed to do their part. And in hopes of being able to get it out of the way, managed to complete her part in three days. 

Having less than two weeks until finals week, she moved on to do her finals for her other classes. 

But then she started worrying the next day, after no one responded to her on the group chat, when she asked how the work was going. Things only got worse from there, because after the chat was crickets even after Y/N finished her Human Anatomy class, her efforts to text and call each individual of the group separately, she realized it was no use as no one was answering her calls and ignoring her messages even though they were on read.

The following day was no different, and she found herself starting to spiral, at least on the inside. She had no choice but to pull as many all-nighters as needed to finish completing the group project and the rest of her final projects.

Jack on the other hand, was worried for her. He could tell something was bothering her by how all the sudden she had stopped talking to him unless it was to acknowledge his presence with the occasional “Hi”, “Hey” or “Good morning”. 

One night, Jack got home from the studio. It was around 11:45, and the only light that was still on, was coming from Y/N’s home office. 

Jack quietly opened the door and was met by Y/N’s intense angry glare at him. 

“Hey-”

“No!” she looked down at him. 

Jack turned to look down and realized there was a pile of written papers scattered across the floor and he had accidently stepped on one of them.

“I’m sorry, I-”

“It’s fine.” She said coldly taking the paper from his hand and just carried on working on her project like if nothing happened. 

“I just wanted to see how you were doing” 

“Better than ever” she responded unenthusiastically. 

“Did you eat today?” 

“What?” she turned to him. 

“I asked you if you ate today” 

“Can we not do this right now? I still have so much to get done” She dismissed him and put her focus back on her project.

“I know. I’m sorry” he scratches the back of his head finding the right words. “I’m just worried that……. you’re wearing yourself out. You should take a break” 

“No, I can’t do that. I need to get this done” 

“Y/N” 

“You don’t understand. I’m already behind on a lot of my classes” 

“It’s not up for discussion baby” 

“For fucks sake! Can you get off my ass for two fucking seconds?!” she spat fire from her mouth as she glared at him. 

Jack was taken back but remained calm and unbothered. 

Then she turned away and remained in the same spot, with her back towards Jack. 

Jack pulled her into a hug and she broke crying into him arms. 

“Shhh shhh its ok” he held her and rubbed her back.

It was like all the stress she had accumulated for the past weeks hit her like a truck.

“I’m so sorry” she said with her voice muffled.

“Don’t mention it” he kissed the top of her head.

Eventually, she calmed down and stopped crying. 

“You ok?” he looked at her.

She nodded.

“You want to talk about it?” 

“No” she softly said. 

“Ok. I’m going to run you a bath and then I’m going to order some takeout” he said wiping away her tears. “Does Chinese sound good?”

“Yeah” she softly said. 

“Ok” 

Jack ran her a bath with her favorite body wash and ordered her favorite from their local Chinese restaurant. By the time she exited the bathroom, Jack had laid her favorite sweatpants and one of his oversized t-shirts on the bed for her to get changed.

When she got to the dining room, the food was already served. 

Y/N quietly took a seat. 

“Feeling better?” 

“Yeah, thanks” 

He smiled at her. 

“Got your favorite” 

“Jack” 

“Yes?” 

“I’m sorry….for snapping at you” she said looking down.

Jack gently squeezed her hand.

“Do you want to talk about what’s bothering you?”

Y/n hesitated, but ultimately told him everything. 

“I’m so sorry” he paused. “Can you still drop the classes?”

“I can’t. Finals week is just around the corner”

“I understand” he paused. “Maybe we could get you a tutor, so you can manage the workload” 

“A tutor?”

“Yeah. I would tell you to drop the semester, but I suppose it’s too late for that now. But I also wouldn’t want you to see all your efforts and hard work to waste just because some morons didn’t want to put in the effort” 

“Thank you” she was relieved. 

“It’s ok”

“No seriously. You’ve been so kind and helpful to me. And I’ve been nothing but-”

“Great. You’ve been great. You’re just going through a lot right now, and I understand that. Yeah, I was taken back by your reaction. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you angry” he let a small laugh. “But I won’t hold it against you. I just wanna help you”

Y/n got up from her seat, walked over to Jack and hugged him. 

Jack hugged her back. 

“I love you so much” she whispered. 

Jack smiled to himself.

“I love you too bubs” 

Y/N pulled away and smiled at him.

“….but I think I’ll love you even more if you eat” he pointed at her untouched plate of food.

Y/N smiled at him.

That night, Y/N relaxed for once, knowing that with Jack’s help, she would find her way out of this problem. Today was a bad day but tomorrow will be kinder.

#jack harlow imagine #jack harlow #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow x y/n #jack harlow blurb #jack harlow fluff #jack harlow x you #jack harlow concepts #jackman thomas harlow #jack harlow one shot #bf!jack #husband!jack #jack harlow imagines #harlow jack #jack x you #jack x reader #jack x y/n #jack harlow angst #jackharlow #shy!reader