#do you know that longing for an old home?
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HI NANA ILY spiral anon again i have a request ^.^ reread ur 'stealing ur panties' smau and i'm so obsessed with the nanami one do u think u would ever write perv nanami? like as a coworker or an apartment neighbour stealing ur panties from the laundromat... idk i'm kinda obsessed w the concept n i need it TY <33 -🌀
ʚ cont: fem reader, perv!Nanami, panty stealing, fantasizing, jerking off, masturbation (r!)
ʚ note: my reqests are closed, i just woke up wanting to write a little and found this gem in my inbox
MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ
Perv!Nanami has been working so hard over the past year to get close to you, his pretty little neighbor. You have the same impression of him that everybody else shares about the handsome man; kind, gentle, and caring. And that's exactly what he wants you to think about him when he knocks on your door and asks you if you would like to eat with him because he "ordered too much takeout." Or when he so kindly comes to your house each week to take your laundry down to the shared washers and dryers the apartments provide because of, "convenience."
And of course, you say yes, how could you not? Nanami is such a good guy, and you know your clothes will be safe with him, that he'll treat them good and return them to you folded and smelling like poppies. And because NAnami is such a nice man, you never even think twice when he brings your laundry to you hours later and you're missing a pair or two of panties. You don't worry about it, they always show up sooner or later--and the pink pair sitting on top of the pile of freshly cleaned clothes? You could've sworn those have been missing for weeks but maybe they were just buried at the bottom of the pile and you missed them, yeah, that had to be it.
Nanami doesn't want you growing suspicious and he sure as hell doesn't want you spending your precious money on new panties if you think you're missing your old ones. He convinces you that you've been so busy lately and probably misplaced the undergarments after coming home and peeling your clothes off after a long day. You blush at the thought of Nanami seeing you in such a state, and the look on your face and the way you avert your eyes doesn't go unnoticed by the man in front of you, trying to convince you your panties will show up again.
And they always do. Right after Nanami finishes taking real good care of them, just like he'll do to you one day. After Nanami so generously offers to take your clothes down, he sets the basket on top of the already rattling dryer and closes the door so no one walks in and sees what he's about to do. God, he doesn't know what he would do if you walked in on him like this. At first, Nanami was good about taking your panties and hauling them up to his room to worship them, but the urge to have you only grew every day, leading him to now pull his pants down and wrap your panties around his cock almost the moment he steps inside the laundry room.
Nanami hastily digs through your basket, searching for the prettiest pair of panties as his sore cock throbs against his hard zipper, begging for release. He prays you didn't notice the way his cock strained against his pants when he was convincing you you lost your panties after a long day's work, hoping the basket he held over his crotch covered most of his problem. After acquiring his target, Nanami leans back against the door with his full weight and fishes his cock from his pants, hard and dripping between his legs, a little wetness falling and making contact with the floor.
Nanami wastes no time before holding your panties up to his nose and inhaling, his hand already working furiously over his cock, wet noises, and muffled grunts getting drowned out by the rattling dryer in front of him. The 'nice' man paints generous pictures in his head of his pretty little neighbor exhausted after work, barely closing her door before stripping off her clothes in the hall, leading to her room.
He's unable to stop the groan that surfaces as he drops his head against the door and lets his eyes fall shut, wrapping the part of your panties that touches your cunt against his tip, rubbing his own wetness against yours while jerking himself off with his other hand now, legs spreading the longer he goes. He feels himself already so close to the end as he pictures your dripping body in the shower, scrubbing the day off of you. He would spend so much time helping you get clean if he had the chance.
He would also make sure to spend plenty of time washing your tits, wondering how long he could get away with groping you there before you figured out he had ulterior motives for cleaning you.
Nanami pulled his lip between his teeth as he imagined your now soaked body walking out of the shower, leaving a trail of water behind you from your poor job of drying off before you plopped down onto your bed, bedroom already dim as you reached a hand between your thighs, finding that ache, that need between them that would finally relax your sore body after such a hard day.
His thrusts speed up as he vividly watches you in his mind as you push a finger between your folds, gasping in relief before you start up a quick pace, your other hand alternating between playing with your clit and rubbing your chest. It usually doesn't take Nanami long once he gets to this point, his body lurching as his bach arches with spasms, his cock kicking against your panties as he dirties the fabric even more, drenching the poor thong in his thick cum that he would much rather give you, inside you.
The guilt of his acts never ceases to go away after he finishes defiling your panties, but he ignores it the best he can, putting the now ruined panties back in the hamper before he fishes out two more to keep for himself this week. Wonder if he would feel better about his deeds if he learned that his jerk-off fantasy wasn't all that wrong and that the person you use in your own fantasies to get off is your kind, gentle, and caring neighbor.
#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk x reader#jjk x y/n#jujutsu kaisen x reader#kento nanami#nanami smut#nanamin#jjk nanami#perv nanami#kento x y/n#kento x you#jujutsu kento#jjk kento#kento smut#nanami kento#kento x reader#jujutsu nanami#nanami kento smut#jujutsu kaisen nanami#nanami x reader#nanami x you#nanami x y/n#kento nanami smut
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Sound II
Steph Catley x Baby!Reader
Summary: You're not having fun
You have decided that the weird things Mummy puts in your ears are annoying. You don't enjoy them at all. They're strange and weird and make things loud.
You don't like loud.
Loud is weird and you wish Mummy would just let the world be quiet.
You also wish Mummy would stop putting you on your belly. You used to do that in your old home until you could successfully lift your head up. Then you stopped.
You're not entirely happy that Mummy is making you do it again.
"Come on, angel," Steph coos at you," Just a little bit longer."
You're not the biggest fan of tummy time and Steph would prefer not to make you upset but she's working on getting you to crawl. Mini called just last week to say that Bubs has begun crawling and Steph doesn't want you to be left behind, hence tummy time.
"What's with the frowny face?" She coos," It's not really that bad, see?"
Steph lays on her tummy as well and your frown disappears a little bit as you stare at her. Steph just supposes you needed someone to do it with you.
You start giggling and you clumsily reach out with a hand to smack against her nose. Steph tilts her head up so she can lay a kiss on your palm that causes another wave of laughter from you.
You're a fairly giggly baby, at least compared to Bubs, and Steph could listen to your laughter for hours.
You kick your legs happily as Steph drags herself closer on her belly until she's close enough to layer kisses all over your face. Her phone chimes and she sits up.
"Tummy time's done!" She says to you, lifting you into her arms," You're such a good girl for doing it!"
You beam at her, legs still kicking out slightly before you're settled on her lap.
Now that you're free from the confines of your tummy time, you've decided you want to be free of the things in your ears.
You tug on them clumsily and Steph chuckles, covering your hands with her own.
"I'm sorry, angel," She says," But the doctors said you've got to wear them to get used to all the noise."
Mummy's been putting these things on you for a while now. Every day, she keeps them on for longer and longer. You tolerated it at first but now you think she's doing this just to annoy you.
You huff and blow spit bubbles at her so she knows you're annoyed.
Steph drags a cloth over your lips to clean them off and you huff again. She laughs a little at your face. Like every time you pull a frowny face or look mildly disgruntled, she has to laugh.
It's so out of place on your usually sunny features that Steph has no choice.
"Just a little longer," Steph promises you," And then we'll do something else."
She already knows what that 'something else' is. In the month or so since she's brought you home, Steph found very quickly that you've an affinity for music.
It had been a complete accident when Steph was cleaning while you were napping, putting some music on as she worked only to find you kicking your little legs in happiness to the beat.
You just adored music, even when you couldn't hear it. You routinely enjoyed being set up by the speaker and just resting your body against it, feeling the vibrations on your skin.
You still don't look very happy at still having to wear your hearing aids but this is one thing Steph won't relent on. You'll wear your hearing aids as long as the doctor recommends to get you properly adjusted.
Macca's assured her that this is the way to go. It's easier to adjust to the noise when you're younger than it is to do it when you're a teenager.
Steph's helping you in the long run, no matter what you think in this moment.
Her phone goes off with another alarm so you don't get the chance to make your anger more known. The frown absolutely disappears once you're set down in front of the speaker and Steph puts on some classical music.
You don't really mind what music is played, so long as you can play around and touch the speaker but Steph likes to think you like classical.
There's probably something about the vibrations that makes it different from pop music or any other genre.
You seem happy either way and Steph's content to just leave you there as she cleans up your scattered toys.
You've fully wedged yourself onto the speaker and Steph's left to briefly wonder how you've knocked it over and how you've managed to clamber on it at all when you've not even started to crawl yet.
It's impressive though and you mush your cheek against it and giggle as the vibrations echo through your body.
Steph has to laugh too, putting your toys away before plucking you from your position atop the speaker.
"That's a little too close," She tells you, standing it back up and moving you far enough away that you can only rest your little hand against it," This is better."
You huff.
It's fine. As soon as she leaves to get snacks, you'll go straight back to laying on it.
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reckless
words: 2.3k
warnings: 18+ only, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, male receiving oral, aged up!rafe (28), age gap (reader is 20), reader kinda dumb and stupid tbh, breaking and entering but actually technically she didnt break anything so just entering, urban exploring
“stay away from that house.” your friend warns, following your eyesight to get light shining from only one window, the rest of the house covered in shadow.
“why?” you question, curiosity growing.
“some asshole lives there. i guess he got real rich when he was young and now he spends all his time inside hiding. the whole island hates him but nothing he did was bad enough to land him in prison…” your friend gives you a serious look. “or at least nothing they can prove.”
you're new to the outer banks, but she already knows your personality. you're defiant and confident, afraid of nothing.
it's why despite her warnings the next night you're scaling up the fence and hopping over to the other side. you note the well taken care of yard, whoever this guy is must still employ a lawn crew.
you keep your footsteps light but unhurried as you walk around the exterior of the enormous house, still just the one window with a light on, like no one else has been in any other part of the home for a long time.
you figure a house like this might have security, but you live only a block away and would certainly get to your house before any cops would show up.
you peer in a few windows, but it's too dark inside to really make out anything. you make your way into the backyard, looking down the long dock to see a yacht. you consider exploring that first before shaking your head and focusing back in on the house.
in your old city, you had a habit of breaking into places. not to steal or damage anything, just for the thrill of getting in and looking around, knowing you're not supposed to be there.
you peer in through the glass doors. it's not that late, only 11pm, but you figure the old man who lives here must already be upstairs and hopefully asleep as you grip the handle.
you wait to hear an alarm from just your touch, but when the house remains silent, you attempt to turn the handle, surprised and happy that it's completely unlocked as you slide it open.
you step into the living room, looking around at the intricate and clearly expensive decorations. your friend was definitely right about this guy being rich, but of course he is if he lives in a neighborhood like this.
“damn.” you mutter to yourself, stepping closer to a fancy vase sat on a table. you purposely leave the glass door open in case you need to make a quick escape out.
your eyes take in every piece of art hung on the wall and gold detailed lamps as you head further into the house, peeking into rooms as you quickly map out the layout. you note the stairs in the center hallway leading up, able to tell there's one light on and deciding quickly to avoid it.
you make like the rush of breaking into places, but you certainly don't like getting caught as you tiptoe into the kitchen next. out of pure curiosity, you open a couple cabinets to find them well stocked.
you focus in on the fridge next. you don't intend to steal but maybe this guy has a couple bottles of beer that won't be missed.
you frown when you realize it's mostly healthy food and energy drinks as you close the fridge, practically jumping out of your skin when you realize there's a tall man with his arms crossed, leaning against the cabinet.
“what are you doing here?” you yell, backing up and putting the island between you and him.
“bold of you to ask me that considering you're the one breaking into my house.” the man's voice is easy going and gentle despite the circumstances.
“your house?” you look the guy up and down. “i thought the guy who lived here was old.”
he moves to the island, placing himself directly in the middle so you can't bolt away, a movement you're very aware of.
“and what made you think that?” he questions. it's hard to tell in the low light, only the faint glow of buttons on the fridge and a bit of moonlight creeping in, but he looks young. your guess is late 20s or early 30s, not like the senior citizen you were picturing.
“my friend told me some asshole-” you cringe at the bad choice of words but continue on. “lives here who got rich when he was young.”
“hm, yeah that does sound like me.” the guy hums. “so what, you were gonna steal from me?”
“no.” you quickly shake your head. “i don't steal, i have no need. i just… like urban exploring.” you decide on saying.
“mmm, isn't that usually exploring abandoned places?” he questions, somehow still carrying on the conversation so naturally, like you're an invited guest rather than a trespasser.
“i thought this place was basically abandoned. like i said, thought you were old.” you shrug.
“well, im only 28, so if you consider that old.” he crosses his arms, muscles bulging.
“im 20.” you say, swallowing thickly.
you can see the gleam in the man's teeth as he smiles. “interesting… come with me.”
his command is so effortless, you find your feet moving before your mind catches up, following him deeper into the house and up the stairs.
“what are you going to do with me?” you ask, worrying he's going to call the cops. your parents would be pissed if only a week after they move you out of the big city you get arrested again.
“did your friend happen to tell you why i stay in this house?” he hums, opening a door and beckoning you in. you quickly realize this is the bedroom with the lights always on.
“um, just that you did something and no one likes you.”
“that's exactly right, even though i did nothing wrong. i only ever wanted to protect my family.” you see anger briefly take over his features as he relieves whatever memory that made him so hated. “but still, it's hard being lonely.”
he takes a couple steps forward, swinging the door shut behind him to keep the two of you in there, alone. “it's why id like your company…”
“y/n.” you mumble your name. you don't bother to give a fake name.
“y/n.” the name rolls seamlessly off his tongue, like a purr. “im rafe.”
“what do you mean by company, rafe?” now that you're in the light and can get a good look at him, you're hoping it's what you're thinking.
“isn't it obvious?” he quirks his head to the side. “i want you to sleep with me.”
“okay.” you whisper. you're certainly not inexperienced or against sleeping with random guys, even if your friend did warn you about him. you've already gone two whole weeks without getting anything, and you're starting to feel a little high strung.
“perfect.” rafe crosses past you, placing himself on the edge of the. neatly made bed. “undress.”
his command is once again so simple and effective that your hands begin moving instantly, pulling off your tank top to reveal your bright pink bra before sliding your shorts down next to show off the matching underwear.
you turn your back towards rafe and look over your shoulder as you slide your panties down, revealing your bare ass and pussy before kicking off your sandals.
you walk over to rafe slowly, a smile on your face as you undo the last piece of clothing covering you and let your bra drop to the floor.
“fuck, you're sexy.” rafe leans forward and grabs you, hands gripping your ass, squeezing the plump flesh there. he doesn't bother to wait for you to recover as he sits you onto his lap, cunt being pressed into his thigh as his mouth devours yours.
you can feel his need in the kiss, how starved he is from touch as you begin to kiss back, hands rubbing all over his front.
you only briefly stop the kiss to yank his shirt off. you're not surprised by his muscles, you could tell how perfectly built he was even in the dark kitchen.
rafe begins to slide your pussy against his pants, wetting his thigh as your clit drags against the material.
“fuck, you're already so wet.” rafe moans into your mouth. you don't pause to tell him that you always get a little bit wet in excitement when breaking into a new place.
“let me blow you.” you slide off, already missing the feeling on your pussy as you pull at rafes pants. he lifts his hips to help you and you waste no time, pulling his underwear down as well.
rafes cock pops up, hard and ready for attention. you push his thighs open with your hands so you can nestle between his legs, smiling as you watch a bead of precum from before licking it clean.
“god.” rafe groans, a hand fisting in your hair, tangling his fingers into the strands. “it's been so long since someone else has touched me.”
you feel bad for rafe in that moment, but it's quickly forgotten in favor of wrapping your lips around the head of his cock and giving it an intense suck, wanting to show him a truly good time.
you begin to bob your head, slowly taking more and more of his length into your mouth. he's not the biggest you've ever gotten with, but his girth certainly makes up for it as you get used to him pushing at the walls of your throat.
you'll certainly need more attention to your pussy to be able to take him as you reach down and rub your fingers against your clit, wanting to jump on his cock the second you're done blowing him.
“how are you only 20?” rafe asks, talking mostly to himself considering your mouth is occupied. “you suck dick so well.”
you don't want to comment that you've had lots of experience, but you have a feeling he won't judge you for it. so many guys sleep around yet want every girl to be a virgin, and that's certainly something you don't subscribe to.
with a final push, you're able to take rafe all the way down as you nuzzle your nose into his skin, gagging slightly but able to hold for a decently long time before you need to pull off to take a deep breath.
“come up here, baby.” rafe says, tugging your hand that isn't still playing with your pussy. “want to fuck you.”
you wipe your mouth before standing up, glad you weren't on your knees for long as you move onto the bed.
“fuck me good, daddy.” you purr out, staying on your hands and knees and swaying your ass to entice rafe as he moves behind you.
“oh, i will baby.” rafe rubs his cock through your folds, not bothering to offer to put on a condom when you so clearly don't care.
rafe teases you, pressing slightly against your entrance before going back to rubbing against you until you're frustrated and aching. you're about to open your mouth to complain, to tell him to hurry it up, when his cock plunges inside of you in one quick motion that has you screaming out.
“oh, fuck!” you squeal as rafe instantly begins pounding into you.
rafe smiles as he looks towards the window, slightly cracked. he hopes the neighbors hear your screams and moans of pleasure and learn that he's not just willing to stay inside for the rest of his life. no, rafe is crafting his revenge against the town and when the time comes, they will all regret the way they treated him.
rafe looks down at you as he thrusts into you, your head hung forward and curls bouncing with every movement as he punishes your cunt.
“shit.” rafe groans, pulling out to quickly flip you onto your back.
his mouth meets yours just as his cock reenters you, kissing you wildly while he thrusts without abandon, letting himself loose on you.
rafe can feel himself swelling inside of you and tries his best to hold back from cumming, fingers reaching to your clit to focus on your pleasure before his own, wanting to extend this as long as possible.
“god, you feel so good.” you moan out, jaw slackened even as rafe continue to kiss around your mouth, eyes glossed over in pure pleasure.
“yeah?” rafe smiles. “you gonna cum for me?”
“mhm. keep- keep rubbing.” you tilt your head back as he swipes over your clit, back and forth, building you up while his cock fills out your insides.
“come on, baby.” rafe moans out, kissing you again, unable to stop even though he wants to hear your moans. his hips move faster and faster until he can't hold back anymore, pulling out and releasing all over your stomach in long ropes.
you squeal out as he pinches your clit, triggering your own orgasm as your entire body shakes, back arching off the bed.
“fuck!” you shout. “rafe!”
you both flop against the mattress, breathing heavily as you recover, pussy dripping wet onto his blankets.
“thanks for the company.” rafe smiles, causing you to laugh.
“yeah, always happy to stick around.” you giggle, leaning into his side. there's certainly no shame cuddling up to him after what you just did.
“would you… would you come back tomorrow?” rafe asks, pushing a strand of hair off where it was sticking to your face.
“first week in a new town and i already found myself a fuck buddy? hell yeah ill come back tomorrow.” you kiss rafe quickly before standing up off his bed, putting your tanktop and shorts back on but leaving your wet panties and bright bra on the floor.
“but have pizza, im a classy girl after all, i only let you fuck me once before buying me dinner.” you walk out of the bedroom to rafes deep chuckle.
#rafe smut#rafe cameron smut#obx smut#outer banks smut#rafe fic#rafe fanfic#rafe fanfiction#rafe cameron fic#rafe cameron fanfic#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe x you#rafe x y/n#rafe x oc#rafe x reader#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron x oc#rafe cameron x reader#rafe blurb#rafe drabble#rafe one shot#rafe imagine#rafe cameron blurb#rafe cameron drabble#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron one shot
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End of the Road
Dilf Midoriya Izuku x Wifey Reader
@stoned-anime-babe The way I thought of this a few days ago and then you brought this idea again. Thank you for the submission lovey<3
Context: You and your husband dance around in the kitchen and your boys can't help but smile.
You wiped the kitchen counter as soft oldies played in the background. In the evenings, late at night when the younger sprouts have gone to bed and the older ones have retreated to their bedrooms, you and your husband would clean up downstairs ensuring that your house would be perfect the next morning.
Obviously disinfecting and cleaning was also a way to ensure that your youngest son, Koda, would stay healthy and safe in his own home, but it was also a mindless task the both of you could enjoy.
You hummed to yourself, swaying your hips to the old song. You ignored the footsteps of your husband trying to be silent. He walked up behind you, making you smile. You paused wiping the marble counter as you felt your large husband lean against you. He put his head down on your shoulder, kissing your neck with a smile. His large hands moved to rest on your hips. "You look so beautiful."
You couldn't help but smile as you chuckled. You leaned back against his broad big frame. It always felt like he was perfectly built to hold you and to keep you close. You always felt so totally consumed by him but in the best of ways. "Izuku, I'm a mess." You told him. "I'm pretty sure this shirt hasn't been washed in a week and I haven't taken a shower today and I'm pretty sure one of Shoyo's markers managed to scrape my sweatp-"
"You're so beautiful." He insisted as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, taking a breath. He tightened his grip on you happily swaying to the music with you. "I love you just like this." He spoke up again. You turned your head to look up at him with wide eyes.
Izuku looked down at you with an expression you had seen time and time again before but one that you couldn't help but feel overwhelmingly consumed by. His green eyes, beautiful and bright just for you, were consumed by his pupils as he looked down at you. A gentle smile was on his lips.
You felt heat go up your neck as you looked away from him embarrassed. You felt like you were twenty years younger, blushing at his charming words and such unabashed glances and faces.
You felt his hand gently move to your face, angling you to look back up at him again. His eyes searched your face almost as if he wanted to dive into your very being and stay there. You were frozen staring up at him, the cloth you were holding long gone as you looked up at him, waiting on his every word.
"Dear God..." He let out softly before a soft disbelieving scoff left his mouth. "I am so lucky to have you." He gently took your smaller hand in his own, kissing the palm of your hand as he gently turned you into his arms, making you chest to chest.
You stared up at him before smiling gently. You wrapped your arms around his neck as you leaned against his chest, swaying to the music. You felt his arm wrap around you while he joined your hands together. He rested his head ontop of your own as the both of you carefully swayed to the music.
It was intimate moments like this that made you fall deeper and deeper in love with your husband. He held your heart in his hands and you didn't know how he managed to do it. Because here you were, teary eyed as you realised that you were with this wonderful man, Midoriya Izuku.
How he'd given you everything you could have ever wanted in life. He had given you his heart, five wonderful boys, a life of luxury and never having to worry about a cent, this wonderful house, a life focusing on whatever you wanted.
You knew that you were immensely lucky. So wonderfully lucky.
You opened your eyes as you looked up at your husband, who turned to look down at you. That smile on his face that told you that he had no other thoughts in his head other than ones of you. You couldn't help but move your hand to cup his face as you stared up at him. You pulled him down to put his forehead against yours as he held you, dancing in your kitchen together.
To the end of the road, still i can't let go. It's unnatural, you belong to me, I belong to you.
"Kane do you think-" Toshinori stopped talking as he stopped in his tracks on the staircase. Him and Kane had decided to grab some snacks from downstairs.
Kane looked at the other teenager who had stopped in his tracks. His gaze softened as a gentle smile went to his face. Kane raised an eyebrow before looking in the direction that he was looking in. There in the kitchen, holding onto each other and swaying to the music was you and Izuku. Kane's eyes widened. He wasn't entirely sure what to call what he was seeing but it was soemthing he had rarely seen in his life.
Kane took out his phone and recorded the scene, both boys decided to mutually stay silent and enjoy the moment. Toshinori smiled at the sight of his parents together. If there was one thing he was grateful for, it was the love that you two had for each other. Despite all his complaining of the both of you being disgustingly in love, Toshinori wouldn't have changed it for a thing.
Kane had barely seen what love was supposed to look like, but he knew, watching you both right now...
It was right in front of him.
Newest post by TheMidoriyas:
Till the end of the road💚 #fyp #love #parentsofTikTok #ProHeroDeku #TheMidoriyas
2 Mill Likes.
slipperygeese: The way he looks at her😫
DekuFan900: This dude has no idea how lucky he is to see his parents like this.
PHPINKY!!✅: THERE'S MY MR AND MRS NUMBER ONE!!
#izuku midoriya x reader#izuku x reader#dilf midoriya#dilf izuku midoriya#dilf izuku x reader#izuku midoriya#midoriya izuku#midoriya izuku x reader#midoriya x reader#mha x y/n#midoriya family shenanigan#Midoriya Family Shenanigans#deku x reader#Spotify
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Craving a postprison!Spencer x stripper!reader fic, please ma’am.
Maybe she gets a daytime job at a coffee shop or a bookstore - to “supplement her income”/ not have to dance as often (not that she’s ashamed!!) and Spencer is just so proud of her for trying and can’t quit kissing her and praising her because I know in other fics you’ve mentioned she didn’t think anyone would hire her because of her profession/self esteem, plus after prison she didn’t want to dance because she wanted to be with Spencer. 🥺
Or really just anything with a proud Spencer x stripper!reader doing anything.
Your work is fantastic and I’m in love with everything you do!! 💕 thank you and it’s totally okay if you think this request is lame or don’t wanna write it!
thank you angel! —you find a new job while making decisions about your old one after Spencer returns from prison, and Spencer would praise you for breathing, so he’s extremely proud. fem, 1.8k
Statistics differ, but estimates suggest that there are around twenty thousand strippers in Las Vegas. With a population of seven hundred thousand people (estimated up), that means that one in thirty five people living in Las Vegas dances for a living.
It’s more than you’d think. Spencer knew of plenty of women who worked as strippers, exotic dancers, or private entertainers when he was still living at home. And while the numbers are much smaller in Washington DC where he lives now, it’s far from zero. More surprising for the average person to be one, perhaps, but not for Spencer.
It used to make him blush like a steam train, sure, but it never did any of the things you were scared of. He’s never looked down on you for it, never been jealous (well, never acted like a jerk because of it), never positioned it as anything other than work. His only complaints are in your concern. You don’t like the club, most of the time. You feel unsafe often. The risk of femicide is yards higher for you as a sex worker than it would be otherwise, but who is Spencer to talk about danger? He still has stitches in his leg.
Your job used to feel more urgent, a red flashing light above your head, because you’d come around with bruises or cut knees, tear stained cheeks, and you couldn’t make ends meet for all your efforts, but things have changed. You’re reluctant to depend on him, but you’ll accept the help when you need it. Nothing keeps you there if you don’t want to be there, and when you do you’re a marvel. You are beautiful, in Spencer’s eyes. Your dancing when you’re having a good night is one of the prettiest things he’s ever seen —more than pretty, sometimes. A hot coal in his stomach.
But the fact of the matter is that Spencer’s home, and you don’t want to dance. You haven’t been to the club for weeks as far as he’s aware, and he’d consider himself well informed. You spent all your savings and started spending his instead and he couldn’t care less, what’s his is yours, whatever keeps you aloft while you make whatever decision it is you’re working toward. Not that it presented itself that way.
I’ll have to go back.
Spencer on his back, you sitting with your head turned from the TV and toward him, your hand on his hip, just resting. Where?
To work. I have enough money for the next two weeks, and then I’m all out.
Spencer wouldn’t do something as unkind as rolling his eyes, but the point of you moving in was to cement that he’d look after you no matter what. He’d turned his head to you on his pillow and reached for your elbow. You’re still resting.
You’ve been home for two months, Spencer. I’ve rested enough. I… I only managed this long because you haven’t asked me for anything and that’s not fair, we both live here.
I earn more than you, so I pay more, he’d said, confused. It’s not as though it hurt him to continue paying for an apartment he’s been living in for years.
I won’t be your leech.
You’re not my leech, don’t say that.
I can’t just not have money.
Well… he’d said. He’d never discussed it with you so openly before, always stopped at the first suggestion, but there’s a first time for everything. You know you can have whatever you want from me. Anything you want, you don’t have to ask.
Spencer… you’re my boyfriend.
Exactly.
No, you’re my boyfriend. You don’t have to keep me. I don’t want that.
He understood the ‘want’ most heavily. What do you want, angel? he’d asked, dragging your hand up his naked chest to rest over his diaphragm, your arm moving up and down in time with his breathing.
You’d seemed stricken, but not upset. Like the question surprised you in having no answer. Not sure… you’d said eventually. Mostly you.
A week passed, two. A third and you’d asked him to borrow money, just for a little while, and with the vehement promise you’d pay him back.
He’s not expecting it. So soon, either. But here you are standing in front of him with a beaming smile and little book in your hands, unzipping one of the book's inner pockets to count out the money you’d ’borrowed’. “Here you go, my angel, there’s everything.”
Spencer just looks at it. “What is it?”
“The money I owe you.”
He presses his hands to his stomach to stop you from forcing the notes into them. “You don’t owe me anything.”
“No, seriously, please take it.”
He shakes his head. “Seriously. I don’t want anything from you, I love you. That money was for you to do what you wanted, or needed. It was yours as soon as I gave it to you.”
You try regardless to put it in his hands. Your hair was done freshly a week ago, your nails manicured but unpainted, your face adorned with some new makeup he’d seen on his (your) vanity a few days ago. It honestly hadn’t crossed his mind why you’d suddenly given yourself a refresh, and he had no suspicions. You would’ve told him if you went to the club, even just via text, because it’s important he knows you’ve had access to your phone or that you’re coming home. (Plus, he’d notice you leaving at night. You’ve spent the last few evenings laying across his lap.)
“Where did you get this?” he asks, smiling softly, wondering if he’s come to the right conclusion.
You drop the money on his thigh and take a couple of steps back.
“I,” you say, holding your little book to your stomach, “got a job as a barista. They gave me my first paycheck today, a direct deposit. So I took out what I owe you and the rest of it is in here.”
“You what?” he asks.
“I’m working at the coffeehouse by the library,” you say, nodding, parts proud of yourself and parts shy.
“For how long? Why didn’t you tell me?”
You bite your lip. “Just this week. And honestly, I didn’t want you to know if I couldn’t do it.”
Spencer stands up but doesn’t cross the room to you. He could reach out and catch your hand. “How could you work somewhere new all week without me noticing?”
“You weren’t here on Monday, Tuesday, or Wednesday morning, and they gave me Thursday off, so I just told you a very small lie this morning about going to the store. I knew you’d get distracted by your Persian poetry again.”
He did get distracted, very much so. You’ve been and worked a whole shift without his worrying, which is a bit awful in itself (he really does love you, and he’d like to know where you are), but is also, frankly, a great thing. You should be able to work without worry. You should do anything you want to do.
Still, a whole week at a brand new job without any support, and to stand there with your paycheck as unmistakable waves of satisfaction melt off of you unkissed is insanity. Spencer’s laughing as he ushers you into his arms, as he hugs your shoulders tightly, “Oh my god!” he says, “Wow, congratulations!” He pulls back just a touch to see your face. “Please don’t lie to me about where you’re going, that’s so dangerous. I love you!”
He takes your face into both hands with your arms hanging loosely behind his back and begins a reckoning of kisses. The slope of your cheek, the skin between your nose and lips, Spencer couldn’t care less where the kisses land, he just wants them all over you. You laugh softly as he goes, almost stickily, a sound that comes deep from your chest. “I’m so proud of you,” he says, pressing a quick, mildly rougher kiss to the corner of your mouth.
“I might still strip,” you say.
“Whatever you want,” he says, squeezing your face between his palms. “What’s it like? Do you like it? Is it hard?” He kisses you again. “I wish you’d told me,” he says against your lips.
You’re quieter than he expected, and warm. He pulls away more sternly to see what’s gone wrong. He could’ve asked the wrong questions. Maybe he’s embarrassed you.
“I just wanted to make sure I could do it. I didn’t want to fail and… and have you know. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be, I get it.” God knows he’s failed a hundred times for you to see it. He wishes he would have hidden a lot of that from you, spared you some heartache, but he also knows how lucky he is to have you near. “That’s what we’re supposed to do, right? We should be together when stuff goes wrong.” He beams. “But it didn’t go wrong.”
“I think I’m pretty good at it.”
“Yeah?”
You hold his wrist. “And I get tips, did you know that? Not as many as before,” —you laugh to yourself loudly— “but still. It’s really cool. They pay me even if nobody wants coffee, and when people want coffee I get extra.”
Spencer kisses the corner of your eye. He kisses up to your eyebrow and down again, all over your cheek before turning your face to the other side to kiss circles into the other. “I,” —kiss— “can’t,” —kiss— “believe it.” Kiss. “Actually, I can, but I still can’t.”
“It’s just a part time job.”
“That you didn’t think you could do,” he says. “But you can do anything, I knew you could. I’m amazed by you.”
He grins and throws his arms over your shoulders.
You squeeze him right back, the two of you swaying, almost falling over. He can feel how proud you are of yourself. You deserve to feel this way no matter what.
“I like dancing,” you say, “I do, I just wish I could do it in a different… world? Is that stupid?”
“No. You’re never stupid.” He smiles as your hand weaves into his hair, fingertips scratching along his scalp, his curls caught between your fingers.
“Do you think you could come on Monday? I can make you a cup of coffee. It’s not as hard as it looks.”
“Please, I’d love for you to make me a cup of coffee.” His smile presses to your shoulder, where he breathes you in briefly, before remembering something very important. “Hey, do you wear an apron?”
“Of course I do.”
Oh my god, he thinks. There are more than half a million baristas in the United States, and Spencer will bet his monthly paycheck that you’re the cutest one to ever exist. You look cute right now in your jeans and your button up shirt, but put an apron on top of that? To see you standing behind a bar mixing drinks and pouring latte art? Monday can’t come quick enough.
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid oneshot#spencer reid scenario#spencer reid drabble#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fanfiction
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I Could Die For you
ʚ pairing: Kate Martin x reader
ʚ word count: 1.2k
ʚ warnings: RPF!! , fluff, fluff, literal fluff, so much love that it’s sickening
ʚ rimunagenius speaks: to make up for that last post about emily because what the flip!! also the first Kate fic i’ve released that hasn’t been in a series!! yay! also ofc i had to write Kate to one of my favorite love songs!!💕 if you guys do not listen to this song and love it, i’m quitting writing and reporting everyone’s blog…
| Women’s Basketball Masterlist |
Something inside the cards I know is right
Don't wanna live somebody else's life
Kate was so happy. She knew her life was exactly where she wanted it to be. Cold mornings like this, wrapped in the bed sheets, both your bodies wrapped together to create the most perfect fit to a puzzle.
With your head resting on her body, your nose nuzzling perfectly into her neck, your soft snores and exhales ticking her skin and leaving goosebumps in their wake.
The way your hand rested on her chest, and the way Kate's hand rested on your waist from the way she was holding you into her body. She knew she didn't want to be anywhere else but here. Lying here, wide awake admiring you and thanking god or whoever was out there, that she was able to do this, and do it with you.
This is what I want to be
And this is what I give to you because I get it free
"Oh my god, Kate." You stood in shock in your guys' kitchen. You had a rough day at work, letting Kate know that while you sat in your office, counting down the minutes until you could come home. So when you walked through the door and wandered into the living room where Kate was watching the NBA finals, she got up to greet you and took you to the kitchen, giving you the flowers and chocolate she picked up on her way home from practice today.
You had a new adjustments to make since leaving Iowa. Picking up your life and moving to Las Vegas with Kate when she found out she made the roster officially, after living in a hotel room during training camp. You loved her so much, and you had so much faith in the person she was and the skills she had, you knew moving across states wasn't going to be a regret you had years down the line.
Tears welled in your eyes, the overwhelming feeling of love and appreciation radiating from the blonde who stood a few feet away. "Aw, don't cry. Why are you crying, baby?" Kate walked up to you, wrapping her arms around your neck so you buried your face into her chest.
"Because. You do this for me just for having a bad day. Your days are full of stress with basketball, still proving yourself, and tired from your work. I don't deserve you, Kate." You were a mess. You missed a lot of things. You missed your old friends, how close your guys' family used to be, and you missed Kate while she was gone. You missed a lot of things—you've longed for those things, but you loved your life here with Kate. You two away from what you knew and grew accustomed to, to independently make what you want and need.
You loved it but you couldn't help but long for what used to be your life sometimes. "You deserve everything. You deserve the world and more because you packed your life up just because you believed in me. This is the very least I could do for you. I will continue to show you how important you are to me and who I am. You make me better so I'm going to show you every day til I can't anymore. I love you. You work hard and you deserve to be appreciated and seen."
That made the tears fall harder, but you looked up at Kate, and couldn't believe this was your girl. The woman you got to spend and do life with. You kissed her lips chastely, hugging her close again. You two stood there, looking at the pretty flowers and sharing some of your chocolate.
She smiles while I do my time
It was so early in the morning. Kate waking you up for a travel day for the Aces. It was an away game to Los Angeles and you wanted to make this game so you took the days off.
You hated getting up early, and the stress that came with traveling was truly not a great time. Kate knew it, but she loved that you were willing to do it for her. You didn't like most things, but the look on your girlfriend's face when you watched her do the thing she loves most, play the game that gave her many of the amazing opportunities she's had, it was all worth it.
Kate walked onto to the court, looking at you behind the Aces bench, and smiled. You already smiling right back at her. She knew that no matter how early she woke you up, or how many times she did it, you'd be there, lift her up, and cheer her on. You knew this was where you wanted to be.
I could die for you
It was the day after Kate had won the WNBA Finals, and you two had been lying in bed since last night. You couldn't believe that she had come so far from the little girl who idolized the Iowa Hawkeyes Women's Basketball team, to a woman who's grown into the most tremendously courageous and strong woman who won her first WNBA Championship. It was so surreal.
"You know I love you so much, right?" Kate whispered. One arm wrapped around you, pulling you close to her body, while her other hand held your thigh that lay across her hip.
"I would hope so." You giggled softly, looking up at the blonde above you, your hand went from her chest to the side of her face, resting against her cheek. You looked into her eyes, the blue of them convincing you more by the second that they were better looking than the sky outside.
"No, I'm serious. You are the love of my life. I would be so lost without you. I don't think I could live without you—let alone do what I've done this past year without you." Her voice wavered, you could tell her emotions still running high after the night she had last night.
"Kate, my love." You chuckled nervously, the confession making you giddy, but also overwhelmingly more in love with Kate, if that was even possible. It brought tears to your eyes.
"You make me so happy. Just being right here, with you, is more important to me than winning another ring."
"Oh my god Kate, stop it. You're going to make me cry. I'm so in love with you." You wiped a small tear that fell down your cheek. Kate smiled down at you, willing herself to not close her eyes and just die happy right here with you.
"I'm so in love with you, I could die." Kate giggled softly, wiping her eyes before leaning down and kissing your lips softly. You smiled into the kiss. You smiled so hard you couldn't even kiss properly. A fit of giggles came from the both of you.
"Ah! Kate, stop it! Oh my god, Kate!" You screamed and giggled as she left kisses and tickles everywhere she could reach, especially in your most ticklish spots. You two couldn't be anymore happier. Kate wouldn't want to be anywhere else unless you were there, under her arms or wrapped in them.
Oh, this life I choose.
You two were just simply two girls in love and wouldn't have it any other way.
#tumblrpost#writers on tumblr#rimunagenius speaks#kate martin#women’s basketball#wnba#wlw#kate martin wlw#kate martin headcannons#kate martin fanfic#kate martin x reader#wlw masterlist#sapphic wlw#wlw fanfic#wlw headcanons#wlw yearning#wlw community#wlw post#lesbian#lgbtq#kate martin is so cutie#i love her#red hot chili peppers#i could die for you#Spotify
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The Alchemy
pairing: oscar piastri x norris reader; lando norris x sister reader; talks about carlos sainz x norris reader (past relationship)
series: the tortured poets department
synopsis: the alchemy is a term coined in the old days before chemist but back then the aim was to produce gold from other elements by mixing certain chemicals. knowing that she is now with the man of her dreams; she came out of the dark in which she has stayed in for a very long time and found the person in which there was 'no denying the alchemy' that if they were together, there's gold, which to her means love.
warnings: literally none because it's all fluff
author's note: THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL THE LOVE AND SUPPORT YOU'VE GIVEN THIS SERIES 🥹😭🩶 also i had a different collage for this but i didn't like it so here's a new one
This happens once every few lifetimes
These chemicals hit me like white wine
Marriage happens every few lifetimes, but not for you. You once thought you were going to marry Carlos. Looking back now, you're extremely grateful that you didn't marry Carlos last year. The 'chemicals' of love that you had with Carlos had an intoxicating effect similar to white wine.
I circled you on a map
I haven't come around in so long
But I'm coming back so strong
After the Australian Grand Prix, you and Oscar decided to spontaneously get married here since all of the important people in your life are here in his home country. The wedding ceremony was being held at the beach that Oscar's parents had private access to.
As you're walking down the aisle with your father, you start tearing up seeing Oscar wait for you at the alter. Everything you've always wanted is finally happening.
Once you reach the alter, your father gives your hand to Oscar. "Take care of my daughter." Your father smiles as tears form in his eyes.
"Forever and always." Oscar says to your father and takes your hand from him. Oscar walks you up the alter and you both look at Zak. Zak was officiating the wedding ceremony.
"The bride and groom have decided to say their vows to each other." Zak looks at you telling you to go first.
"Oscar Jack Piastri. I can't believe we're getting married after 4 months of knowing each other." You smile in disbelief that you're actually getting married. "I remember when we first met, we had a shot of tequila together cheering to new beginnings for both of us. That night Lando ended up wasted while I was a little bit tipsy. You drove us back to our hotel on an empty Las Vegas Strip. The song 'Downtown Lights' by the Blue Nile started playing in your McLaren and we found that we both loved this song. We sang it loudly while Lando was passed out drunk in the back seat. I didn't know it at that time but it was going to be alright because I found the love of my life." Oscar wipes the tears falling from his face while you continue to speak.
"That week was the first time coming back to the paddock in so long. I remember breaking down in Lando's room because of something an ex said about my papaya family and I. You were so worried about me even though our relationship was barely building. I remember you told me 'it's time to crack these locks from him and start throwing rocks at that past relationship.' After that night I circled you on the map of my heart and came back so strong." You finish your set of vows and the Oscar speaks his.
Cause the sign on your heart
Said it's still reserved for me
Honestly, who are we to fight the alchemy?
"Y/N Marie Norris. If you're shocked that we're getting married after 4 months of knowing each other. Well honey, I'll do you one better. I'm surprised I'm marrying a MILF." Everyone including you two laughed at the joke Oscar made about you being older. "But in all seriousness, I'm so happy I'm getting to marry you. I remember when you told me that night in Abu Dhabi that you loved me. I was the happiest man alive because I started to love you too." Tears start dripping from your face as you recall the night in Abu Dhabi.
"I know you have been through the slammer in your past relationship, but the universe knew your heart was always reserved for me. There was no reason to fight to alchemy because you're the one for me."
Once Oscar finishes his vows, Zak continues with the ceremony. You two put your rings on each other and Zake announces you two as Mr. and Mrs. Piastri.
yourinstagram thank you to the man that dumped me, i found the man the universe reserved for me 💍🤍✨
oscarpiastri i love my milf wife 😏
yourinstagram LOVE, YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO GET ME PREGNANT BEFORE YOU CALL ME THAT
landonorris you're basically a milf @/yourinstagram
yourinstagram i'm only 26 😭
landonorris you're basically 30 at this point sister, you can't deny it. please give me a niece/nephew soon 🙏 leo can't be my only nephew, he needs a cousin
charlesleclerc i agree with this. @/yourinstagram @/oscarpiastri please have a child soon so leo can have a play mate.
alexandrasaintmleux preferably a human one so i can convince charles to give me one too @/yourinstagram @/oscarpiastri
oscarpiastri i'll start working on it soon 🫡
user1 OSCAR'S COMMENT IS SO UNHINGE I LOVE IT HAHAHA
user2 i love that lando is playing along with it too HAHAHA they were always meant to be family 🥹
user3 i love that alexandra and charles are playing along too
user4 maybe baby piastri might be coming soon 👀
oscarpiastri honestly, who are we to fight to alchemy? mr. and mrs. piastri 💍
yourinstagram the love of my life 🥺🤍✨
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logansargeant so glad you found the girl of your american dreams
liked by author and yourinstagram
landonorris STOP RUBBING OFF ON MY MAN HE'S AUSTRALIAN
yourinstagram excuse me @/landonorris he's legally mine now step aside
zbrownceo congrats @/yourinstagram and @/oscarpiastri 💍🧡
liked by author and yourinstagram
yourinstagram thank you zak for officiating the wedding. this wouldn't have happened without you 🥹
mclaren the papayas are now married 🥹🧡 congrats @/yourinstagram and @/oscarpiastri 💍 now we need papaya babies
racerbia please we need a papaya baby around the paddock @/yourinstagram and @/oscarpiastri 🥹👶🧡
yourinstagram we're working on it @/mclaren @/racerbia 🫡
user1 BABY PAPAYA IS IN THE WORKS!!!
f1news A MATCH MADE IN HEAVEN: After 4 months of knowing each other, Oscar Piastri and Y/N Norris, Piastri's teammate's sister, decided to tie the knot. This is definitely better than the disaster of a wedding Norris had with Ferrari driver, Carlos Sainz.
Congratulations Mr. and Mrs. Piastri!
user1 the way she went from thinking she lost the love of her life to then finding the love of her life on the team where she truly belonged at 🥹🧡
user2 CARLOS BETTER BE CRYING AT WHAT COULD'VE BEEN
user3 papaya love 🥺🧡
****
I haven't come around in so long
But I'm making a comeback to where I belong
After your wedding and honeymoon, you shortly found out that you were 10 weeks pregnant. You didn't notice you were pregnant at first with all the traveling you do until you took a break on your honeymoon. At the end of the trip, you felt like you had a stomach bug but it wasn't. When you went to the doctor to check what was wrong, she calmed you down by telling you that you were pregnant.
You've never seen Oscar so happy in your life other than your wedding day; you were shock on the other hand. At the doctor visit you asked your doctor when she thought the baby was conceived and she said January 22. That was the night when you made love for the first time.
"I still can't believe I'm pregnant," you exclaim as you two were relaxing on the couch. Oscar puts his hands on your stomach and starts rubbing it. "I don't think I can go to the races anymore."
"I know honey, it's okay." Oscar kisses your lips softly. "I know you'll support your favorite guys no matter what."
"Actually you're my favorite, Lando is ..." As you were about to continue you started to remember the comment Lando put on your wedding post. "Lando is going to be so happy that he's getting a niece or nephew soon."
"I understood the assignment Lando, Charles, and Alexandra told me to do." You laugh together recalling how they all wanted you two to start having a child as soon as possible.
****
For your 27th birthday, you decided to celebrate in Miami where Lando and Oscar were racing at. Even though Oscar wasn't on the podium that day, you were so happy for Lando. Finally Lando got his first ever win in F1.
Once Lando got away from the crowd and back into his private room in the garage, you decided to congratulate him. "Congrats little bro. It's been a long time coming." You hug Lando tightly but then he pulls away feeling your 15 week baby bump.
"Y/N are you pregnant?" Lando asks still on his high of happiness, you nod yes and Lando gets more excited. "YES THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE!"
"That's why she hasn't been coming to the races because we wanna make sure the baby is safe." Oscar explains to a very happy Lando.
"My doctor finally approved me to travel to certain countries. I'm making a comeback to where I belong." You smile as Lando hugs you one more time.
****
The next race you went to was Emilia Romagna Grand Prix, you were currently 18 weeks pregnant. You decided to stay in Oscar's private room since you wanted to ditch the crowds.
Once the race was over and the crowds went home, Oscar, Lando, and Charles with Alexandra came into Oscar's private room to see you. You had messaged Alexandra earlier telling her you wanted to catch up with her and meet baby Leo.
"Hey Y/N ..." Alexandra stops talking after seeing your growing baby bump. "OH MY GOD YOU'RE PREGNANT!!!" Charles finally comes in with baby Leo in his hands.
"You understood the assignment." Charles smiles at Oscar and gives him a side hug. "Congrats my friend."
Your celebration of happiness was interrupted by a Spanish man knocking on your door, "Lando where are you?"
Lando opens the door wide to let the Spanish driver in, "What's up Carlos?"
"I just wanted to congratulate you on getting 2nd. It was one hell of a fight." He smiles at Lando until he looks around and is confused what's going on. "Why are you guys here?" Asking Charles and Alexandra.
Alexandra, happy for your bundle of joy says, "Y/N is pregnant. Isn't it exciting?"
"It is," you smile at Carlos with your pregnancy glow radiating off you. "Oscar was so excited when we found out we were going to have a baby girl. As soon as we told Lando about the gender, him and Oscar were online shopping on the couch together." You look back at Alexandra telling her about your pregnancy.
"My niece needs to have the best of the best. Oscar and I were looking at the McLaren merch to see if the factory can make baby versions of it." Carlos didn't care what Lando was saying because all of his attention was on you. Oscar's hands were wrapped around you and your midsection. "Carlos are you listening?"
"Yeah," Carlos coughs. "Congrats on your pregnancy Y/N and Oscar." Carlos says and leaves the McLaren room.
Shirts off, and your friends lift you up over their heads
Beer sticking to the floor
Cheers chanted, cause they said
There was no chance, trying to be
The greatest in the league
Where's the trophy?
He just comes running over to me
It was the end of the Monaco Grand Prix, Charles had won the race and Oscar was in second place. As soon as Oscar parked his car and ran out to you so he can hug and kiss. All cameras were on you two as this was the first time you were showing your baby bump to the public. Before Oscar went up to the podium, he kneeled down and kiss your baby bump.
The rest of the McLaren plus Lando, lifted Oscar away from you so that he can get to the podium. There Oscar and Charles got their trophies while you and Alexandra were smiling happily at them. Once the national anthems were played, the drivers got to spray each other with champagne.
There's no chance to be the greatest in league due to Max's dominance in F1, but you knew Oscar was on a high right now in life. From getting married, to soon having a baby girl, and now getting his first podium of the season. Life was just beautiful.
These blokes warm the benches
We been on a winning streak
He jokes that it's heroin but this time with an "E"
Once Charles was done with his post race interview, the interviewer starts talking to Oscar. "Congrats Oscar on your first podium of the season and becoming a father soon. It's amazing how these two happened weeks apart."
"Thank you for the congratulations. From getting married at my home country, to finding out we'll be having a baby girl, to now getting my first podium of the season. I'm truly on a high with life right now." Oscar smiles at the camera knowing that you're watching the post race interview with Lando.
"Right now McLaren is in 3rd place for constructor's standings compared to last year's standings at 6th place. Tell me what you and Lando are doing for the team." The interviewer asks.
"Well Lando has been on a winning streak getting podiums after China but to be honest we're not doing anything different. It's all my wife's doing. I joke with her that she's like heroin but this time with an 'E' at the end." Everyone except for Carlos in the room laughs at Oscar's little joke.
"And soon you're going to be having a baby girl." Charles adds to the conversation. "You'll have two lucky charms on track." They both smile at the interviewer before they move on to Carlos' interview.
This happens once every few lifetimes
yourinstagram this happens once every few lifetimes 🌊 ✨
tagged oscarpiastri
oscarpiastri thank god for the alchemy or else our love would've never created this ✨
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taylorswift congrats mama can't wait to meet her
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user1 mother swift approves of oscar and y/n using the alchemy lyrics 🥹
user2 MOTHER IS ACTUALLY BECOMING A MOTHER AHHHHH
mclaren BABY PAPAYA COMING SOON 🥺👶🧡✨
liked by author
baby papaya coming soon 🧡
tagged yourinstagram
mclaren baby papaya is already so loved by the mclaren family 🥺🧡
liked by author and yourinstagram
racerbia yay! i get to be a tita aunt to a little papaya 🧡
liked by author and yourinstagram
landonorris IM CALLING DIBS ON BEING THE GOD FATHER
yourinstagram i already picked a god father and it isnt you
landonorris WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT ISN'T ME?
charlesleclerc it's me and alex
landonorris WHAT!! @/yourinstagram @/oscarpiastri say sike 😭
oscarpiastri she's messing around with you of course your the god father
landonorris thank god 😅
charlesleclerc have another one already so i can be the god father to that one
yourinstagram LET ME HAVE MY BABY FIRST
user1 not lando and charles fighting over who's gonna be the god father 🤣
user2 i love how they’re calling the baby "baby papaya" instead of "baby piastri" 🥺
f1news BABY PAPAYA COMING SOON: After Oscar's first podium of the season, the couple has announced that they are expecting their first bundle of joy weeks after getting married. The driver had made it know that Y/N Piastri, his wife and teammate's sister, was expecting after running to her before he went on the podium.
Congratulations Mr. and Mrs. Piastri on your bundle of joy!
user1 OSCAR MOVING IN THE FAST LANE WHILE CARLOS IS GETTING HIS HEART PUNCTURED LIKE HIS WHEEL 🤣
user2 wonder how carlos is feeling after seeing his ex fiance go from getting married to now being pregnant in a span of a few weeks
user3 who cares because he missed his shot of having this in his life
user4 did you see that carlos was about to cry while oscar was talking about y/n and the baby? 😭
tagged: @omgsuperstarg @splaterparty0-0 @2pagenumb @c-losur3
#f1#taylor swift#lando norris x reader#the tortured poets department#carlos sainz x reader#f1 x reader#lando norris#oscar piastri x reader#oscar piastri#carlos sainz#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#charles leclerc#charles lecrelc#mclaren#ferrari#fluff
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kate fic idea ! okay so you and kate have been best friends since you can remember, but something happens around third grade were you had to move away. a few years later (towards college or so) you guys reconnect (bc yall decided to apply to the same college) then it ends up on them going on a date and kissing 🙏🏽
will do! 🫡
ALL OF THE ABOVE
Summary: You and Kate grew up together, but when you move across the country, you lose contact with her forever. Or so you think.
wc: 2,339 (she's a long one, buckle up folks)
Contains: mentions of alcohol, nothing...?
______________________________
For as long as you can remember, you have always had a best friend. Whether it was your first imaginary friend, your dog, or your brother. One of the most memorable of them all, though, was a short, dirty blonde girl in your third grade.
Kate was assigned as your table partner in art. Even as an eight-year-old, you knew she was the prettiest girl you’d ever laid eyes on. You both instantly clicked, bonding over favorite colors and working on your math problems together.
You both would play outside in recess together, swinging on the swings, or you’d play in the dirt while Kate played with a basketball. You guys were instantly each other’s ride or die, going to one another’s houses for sleepovers almost every weekend. Even throughout the seventh grade girl drama (canon event), and even after both of your friend groups crashed and burned, you two stood strong.
But sometimes things happen that you can’t control, like your parents separating in the middle of your eighth grade year. When you thought it couldn’t get any worse, your dad decided to return to his hometown and move across the country to Iowa, taking you and your brother with him.
You’ve never fought anything harder. You spent most of your time screaming at your dad and begging him to let you stay. When he kept refusing, you eventually accepted the fact that you were leaving. Leaving everything behind, your childhood home, your memories, your best friend.
At the time, the hardest thing you’d ever done was tell Kate you were leaving. You were in tears the whole time, even before you told her. She’d looked at you with worry and concern before embracing you, telling you that no matter what it was, she’d be there for you.
That’s the moment you knew you had fallen in love and that there was absolutely nothing you could do about it.
After you told her, you both cried together, vowing to write everyday (this was before you guys owned phones), and promising to never forget each other.
And that’s exactly how it started out. You wrote to her everyday, filling her in on everything that was happening in your first year of high school. And she’d write back, telling you about how she made the basketball team.
But soon, she started getting busy with all the media attention on the sophomore star, and your letters every day turned into nothing at all. You kept writing to her, but you never got anything back, even after you told her you got a phone.
You figured it was because you both got busy, but you couldn’t help but feel a little hurt that she didn’t write to you back. Eventually, you distracted yourself with finding your love for soccer and her, creating her future in women’s basketball.
You wouldn’t say you forgot her, because how could you? But you didn’t think about her much anymore, and she fell to the back of your mind. You’d moved on with your life, and you were certain she did, too.
Eventually, you graduated and got a full ride to the University of Iowa because of your amazing talent in soccer. Little did you know that a year later, so would Kate. Of course, hers was for basketball, but the same campus nonetheless.
You lay on your bed, watching old soccer highlights, trying to see if you could predict the plays and the fouls before they happen. You look up as you hear your dorm door open and watch as your two roommates drunkenly stumble in. One of your roommates, Sarah, fumbles with the keys before dropping them and leaning on your other roommate, Devon, doubling over in laughter. You roll your eyes and close your laptop. Guess we’re done with that for now.
“What happened to ‘not getting too drunk’?” You asked with raised eyebrows, helping Devon, who is much more drunk than Sarah, to the bed. She mumbles incoherent words, so you look up at Sarah to translate as you take Devon’s shoes off.
Sarah shrugged. “The football team showed up. They’re the life of the party.” She slurs the last bit and then covers her mouth before rushing to the bathroom.
You shake your head as you turn back to Devon, who’s staring down at you. “You’re hot as fuck.” she mumbles.
“You’re drunk, and you have a girlfriend.” You say. You’re far too familiar with Devon when she’s intoxicated. All she does is flirt with people, whether her girlfriend is in the room or not. Luckily, most people on the Iowa campus know her and who her girlfriend is, and they know to stay away, not engaging or encouraging any of her behavior.
“Cait is so annoying.” Devon whines. “She didn’t wanna come to the party with me.” she throws her head back on the pillows, flinging her legs on the bed when you finish taking her shoes off.
“Or.” You grab her a water bottle from the fridge before opening it and making your way back to her. “She has a game tomorrow and doesn’t wanna play hungover.”
You’d been to a couple of Caitlin’s games, and it’s even more amazing to watch her play in person (she’s also fine as hell, but you’d rather keep your life, so this one stays in your head). And with your brother being on the college baseball team, he’d go to many sports events, whether it be basketball, football, women’s basketball, or baseball itself.
Devon sighs before taking the water from you, practically drinking all of it before handing the mostly empty bottle back to you. You put a blanket over her before making your way to check on Sarah.
Opening the door, you notice that she’s taking her makeup off and her hair down. “Oh, shit, you’re all good then?” you say, surprised to see her standing. She turns to you and nods. “Unlike Ms girl in there, I can hold my liquor.” You laugh and turn to leave.
“Oh, you comin’ to the game tomorrow?” Sarah asked, turning to look at you. You sigh deeply before shaking your head. “Nah, I gotta study.”
“Bitch, you’ve studied for like three days, you’re gonna burn yourself out. You’re allowed a break.” Sarah says in a light-hearted manner but you can tell she wasn’t all the way kidding. She wasn’t all the way wrong either. You’d been studying relentlessly for a test in your business class, and gave yourself little room for a break.
“Come on, a small break isn’t gonna kill you.” Sarah persisted. You sigh defeatedly. “Fine.”
She grins widely, already planning outfits to put you in. You shake your head at her antics, when in reality, it was one of your favorite things about her.
Guess you're going to a game tomorrow.
Big mistake. You completely forgot that it was the first home game of the preseason, so the stadium was packed. The people looked like little bees, swarming around in their yellow and black jerseys.
But you and your roommates made sure to take shots before you left the apartment, so the alcohol eased your nerves a little. Since your brother was a baseball player and your roommates girlfriend was Caitlin fucking Clark, you guys had scored courtside seats, right behind the coaching staff.
You shuffle into the aisle, pulling your short black dress down as you settle in. You sit down, and turn your attention to the court. The teams are doing warm ups, and you watch as they do layups. One girl catches your eye, her dirty blonde hair tied back into her signature braid. She looks painfully familiar, but you can’t put your finger on it.
That is until she turns around to sit on the bench , and you get a good look at her last name.
Martin.
Your jaw drops in shock, as your brain tries to process all the emotions that hit you at once. On one hand, you’re pissed that she left you in the lurch, but on the other hand… she’s Kate, and Kate is your best friend, someone who you once didn’t think you could live without.
She’s sitting in front of you, conversing with Caitlin. You obviously couldn’t hear what they were saying, but you’re an expert at reading lips (thanks to your parents), and you make out the word ‘single’, to which Kate nods her head at.
For whatever reason, this made your heart tingle, hope flashing through your mind. Maybe things could go back to how they were.
You’re pulled out of your thoughts by Sarah nudging your shoulder. “Stop staring, girl, you’re gonna burn a hole into her head.” she teased. You bit your lip as your cheeks flushed.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You mutter unconvincingly. You knew you weren’t being subtle, but at this point, you didn’t care. Your best friend, your first actual best friend, was seated no more than 15 feet in front of you.
Sarah rolls her eyes at your stubbornness. “C’mon bro, you're practically drooling.”
You shake your head. “I know her.” is all you say. Sarah shakes her head, giggling at your antics. “Yeah, everyone does. Her high school stats are off the charts.” You nod, although you’re not surprised. You’d watch Kate play in middle school, and she was a beast then, so you could only imagine what a powerhouse she was now.
And you were right. Kate and Caitlin dominated the entire game, piggy-backing off of each other, getting assist after assist. Whether it was Caitlin passing it behind-the-back to Kate, or Kate doing a no-look pass to Caitlin. The stadium was louder than you’ve ever heard it, most of the ruckus coming from the student section as they cheered on the freshman and their beloved Caitlin Clark.
The duo scored a total of 98 points together, and along with the rest of the team, Iowa won with 112 points, beating the opposing team by 67 points. The crowd storms the court, and you sit and watch as thousands of people in yellow and black attire swarm the players.
You and your roommates stay behind, as Devon waits for the people to clear out so she can hug her girlfriend. Eventually, most of the audience cleared out, only a couple of fans lingering. You take a deep breath as your roommates stand and make their way to Caitlin and Kate, who are laughing about something together.
Kate’s laughter is like music to your ears, a sound that almost makes you cry as an overwhelming amount of memories of hearing that beautiful noise every day swarm your brain.
You stand a little farther back as Devon goes up and hugs her girlfriend from behind, eliciting a yelp from a startled Caitlin. Caitlin turns around, hugging her girlfriend before kissing her passionately. You’d be disgusted, but you're far too distracted because at this point, the attention from Kate is on you.
You both stared at each other for a second before she spoke. “Do I know you from somewhere?” she asked. Her voice is just as amazing as you remembered it to be, only slightly deeper. You smiled nervously as you felt tears well in your eyes.
“I’d hope so. My brother used to drive to take us to the Phillips gas station, and you’d force him to buy you Skittles.” You smile as you watch her eyebrows furrow before they light up with excitement, just like they used to.
“No fucki-” she cuts herself off by jumping on you. Your hands go instinctively to catch her, hooking your hands under her thighs. Kate buries her face in your neck, squealing as she squeezes you as if you’ll disappear if she lets go.
“I can’t believe…there’s- how are you here right now?” She asked as she pulled away from your neck. You’re still holding her, and you know for a fact that if you weren’t in shape, you’d be tired, but because of the workouts your coach has you doing, you’re able to hold her with ease.
“After the move, I got into soccer… it turns out I was pretty good, and they gave me a scholarship.” You say, looking up at her. She grins at you. “That’s amazing! After you stopped sending me letters, I assumed you had forgotten about me.”
Your eyebrows furrow at this. “Wait, what? No, I kept sending you stuff, I just stopped getting stuff back, so I just thought you got busy.”
She shakes her head. “I never got any of them.”
“Really?”
“Not one.”
You shake your head as you put her down. “I don’t know why, I wrote to you every day.” Her arms stayed around your neck as your hands navigated to her waist, resting there as you two looked at each other.
Kate bites her lips in thought but shakes her head, pulling you into a hug. “Doesn’t matter. I’m so happy you're here.” Your heart swells at this, hearing those words healed every single ounce of doubt about her that you’d ever had. She didn’t forget about you, she was in the same boat as you, waiting for a response. For years.
“I missed you so fucking much.” You whisper, finally letting tears fall. Kate hears the way your voice shakes and pulls away. She looks at you with sympathy.
“I’m sorry.” She whispers. You shake your head, shaking off her apology. “Not your fault.”
She smiles at you, and you're both looking in each other's eyes for a moment.
Everything freezes. This is the girl you grew up with. The girl who kicked the boy who purposely stepped on your brand new kicks with his muddy shoes. This was the girl who made fun of you for your shitty spelling, the girl who made you feel at home, even while yours was falling apart.
You look in her eyes and you realize home is not always a place. Sometimes home is a person.
Your rock. Your home. Your person.
And she is all of the above.
______________________________
taglist: @bueckerslover @wintersstan @lilia22hicks @fake-intelligences
#kate martin x fem reader#kate martin#kate martin x reader#wcbb x reader#wcbb#iowa wbb#ncaa wbb#wbb#iowa hawkeyes
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FABLE OF THE DOG : 2. Sugar, Not so Sweet
Series Masterlist; Chapter: 1,
Pairing: Joel Miller x FMC
Rating: Explicit 18+
Content Warnings: Cowboy/Heiress AU; Slowburn(ish); Original Characters; Alcohol Use; Allusions to Attempted Suicide; Discussions of Grief; Daddy Issues; Parental Neglect; Angst and Fluff; Older Man/Younger Woman; Jealousy; Possessive Behavior; Brat Taming; Extremely Bossy Old Man; Past Teenage Crush; Yearning and Longing Galore; A Home is a Place but ALSO a Person!; Found Family
A/N: This is a deeply, deeply unserious chapter, and I make no apologies—I was taken away by whimsy!!!!
Apologies however, for the French people slander, I went on a truly heinous date with a oui oui baguette loser last month. I’m still working through my anger.
Word Count: 13.4K
Read on AO3
2. Sugar, Not so Sweet
They appear at the break of dawn, the young man and the boy.
“How many heads’ve you got total?”
Joel appraises him, the fresh-faced look, a boy just crossed over into the cusp of manhood—though he’s large and strong and earnest in the eyes. He’d be a good hire, if not for—
He glances over at the young boy sitting on the bunk’s couch, snickering quietly with Ellie as his brother tries to barter a place for the two of them.
“Near to thirty large about now. We’re fixin’ to breed, but we’re pushin’ our limitations.”
“So you need hands,” he says eagerly.
“We do,” Joel returns slowly, chewing on the mint he’d plucked from out front. His stomach is in knots, has been since—days and days and days ago, last night, and so much worse now. There’s a sick heat settled deep that he doesn’t know how he’ll scourge out and quick.
“Listen, I know it’s unconventional, but—”
“Where’s his parents?” He tips his chin at the boy, and Ellie peers slyly over her shoulder at him. He’ll get hell for this later, he knows, she knows.
“Our momma’s down south—by way of Odessa. She cowboys during the summer too, and—”
Joel sits up in his seat. “Texas?”
“Come on, Texas,” Tommy slinks behind him, sneaking an arm over his shoulder to thump Joel roughly on the chest. “Just say yes.” He lets out a gruff sound masking a cough, fucking Tommy, and leans forward, bracing his elbows on his knees.
Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Ellie rise from the sofa and leave the bunk quietly with a parting pat on the boy's head.
“You’re from Texas, too?” The young man asks brightly, that look of hope in his eyes that Joel’s about to quash.
“We’re from Austin,” Tommy says from the coffee pot, his mustache spreading wide over a shit-eating grin. “Southerners way up here, we gotta stay united amongst all these Yanks’,” his brother puts on the drawl heavy, and Joel rolls his eyes. Clown.
“Listen, Henry,” he says, trying to turn the conversation back to business. He looks at the boy again, the back of the small head bent and silent and something that could, perhaps, be thought of as guilt pulses through him, but to be honest, there’s so much of that moving about Joel’s system right about now, that it’s just one more drop of poison filling his cup. It doesn’t matter. He needs to do what’s right.
For who? He can’t very well tell yet.
“I’m sure you’re a hard worker, son, and I’d not hesitate to give you a place were we in different circumstances, but I just don’t see how this would work—”
Henry leans forward in his chair too, ready to plead his case, fight for his brother and the generously paying jobs the Kelly’s are famous for. There’s something about the boy newly turned man that reminds Joel of himself. Perhaps during that young and fragile youth of his twenties, when he’d been alone with a newborn baby, trying to figure out the whole world and himself.
“I know it’s unconventional, but he’s a good kid. He’s quiet and keeps to himself, and it’d only be for the summer, sir. We head back down for the start of the school year. It’s difficult, but it’s harder for my momma to get work with a kid than it is for me.” He trips over his words with the speed at which he’s spitting them at Joel, trying to convince him, and he knows that the fair thing would be to take them in. To give this man a chance the way Joel had been given one so many years ago, the mercy of safe harbor. But he’s got a finite amount of goodness in him now, he’s got to save it all for only one person. There’s none left for anyone else. And Joel doesn't want trouble, he’s got enough of that around here right about now. “He’s got his books and his summer worksheets, and he knows how to manage on his own while I work. I swear, he won’t be in any sort of way. You can—”
And then, amidst the young strangers' rambling plea, Joel's heart falls through his stomach. Here comes that trouble anyways.
“What’s going on here?” In that soft, lovely voice that haunted his dreams last night.
All the cowboys rise from their seats at the sound of your presence.
From over your shoulder, Joel sees Ellie’s face twisted in a grimace at him, the flash of her middle finger and then her tongue.
“Goddamnit, Ellie,” he growls low.
You look exhausted, eyes red rimmed and swollen—as if you’d been crying all night, and Joel’s tongue is a swollen, poisoned thing in his mouth—a husk of guilt is all he is. He swallows convulsively, trying to find his words, trying to not scream at the thought of being what’s made you cry, trying not to look down the length of you and failing. Silky sleep shorts end way too high up on the long length of those too pretty thighs, an oversized pullover with Yale emblazoned across the front, a little hole at the neck and a large dark stain marr the front of it. You’ve got on a too big robe, dark and plaid, draped over your shoulders with your hair all a mess. He can see Ellie’s trying to pull it into some semblance of a braid behind your back discreetly while you stare at him with those eyes that, and he’s being damn honest now, fucking terrify him. Those puffy, ridiculous tan boots women wear, the impractical ones that become a sogging mess in the snow or wet despite the fact he understands they’re supposed to be worn in winter, are on your feet, two mismatched socks peek out above the tops.
He’s pretty sure one of them has bombs with a capital ‘F’ in the tiny centers printed over it. The other, some sort of Easter bunny carrot print. Absolutely ridiculous, and he can’t help it, he notices it all.
And worst of all, in your grip is that World’s Best Dad mug you’d sent the old fucker for Christmas several years ago, a little holiday fuck you from his best daughter. It’d been one of the years he hadn’t let you come home for the winter break, forced you to spend the holiday alone at that boarding school of yours. The whole ranch had known and whispered about it, and he’d felt embarrassed and offended on your behalf, that they’d all gossiped about the girl you were behind your back when they should’ve respected you for the woman you’d become one day, the one that’d eventually pay all of their earnings.
And the jackass had the audacity to use the mug all the time afterwards. Joel was pretty sure it’d been his favorite.
“We were just wrapping up,” Joel says, clearing his throat, finally finding his voice. It’s almost physically painful to look at you directly in the eyes, and the heat of shame and regret claws its way up his throat at the hollow look he sees there. You’re so angry at him, and he deserves it.
“This is the new Kelly,” Ellie tells Henry, cutting him off, pressing you forward with her hands wrapped around your shoulders. Your shorts are way too short to be in here right now, and Joel feels something else, even hotter than shame, stirring inside him. “If you want work here, this is who you need to talk to. The big boss.”
“Miss Kelly,” Henry says reverently, pulling his cap off to press against his chest. “It’s a mighty fine honor gettin’ to meet you. I was just telling your foreman here,” he motions the cap towards Joel, and he feels like a bear who’s about to rip it out of his grip and stuff it down his throat. Fucking Ellie going and snitching on him. “How me and my brother Henry travel for the summer. I’ve got letters here, I’ve worked at the King before, and have a number your man can call if he needs more references. I’ve got lots of experience and—”
“What will you do with him?” Your gaze is on the little boy, has been the entire time. Joel steps forward and over the back of the couch he sees the kid, Sam, has a comic book in his lap he’s been reading this whole time, while adults who should have no bearing on his life decide what will and will not be for him. “While you work—”
Joel looks back at you, and he knows already what it’ll be.
Henry’s smile is wide and gleaming, putting on the charm. What he doesn’t see, what Joel does, is that bleak sadness in your gaze that he’d put there himself last night. He needs to speak with you, to explain, to make it right between the two of you.
“He’s good at entertaining himself. I promise he won’t be in the way or nothin’. He’s got books and summer work, and he’s learning to play the guitar. He won’t be in the way,” Henry says again.
“What about school?”
“We only travel during the summer. We’re back in Texas for the school year.” And at that, you finally look back at Joel, and his heart shoots from his belly to his throat, ready to be spit up at your feet.
You watch him for a long searing moment, and there's such sadness there. He doesn’t know what would have been better, what would have been the correct recourse, how to make that look go away. To give you what you want? To do what he thinks is right or what should be right? He’d never thought, never considered anything like this. It’s all too much too fast, and he feels suddenly lost and childlike in the face of you and all you stand for.
“They stay,” you say only for Joel.
Henry lets out a whoop of victory, rushing forward to thank you profusely, but Jesse, who’s standing by the door, blocks his rush forward with a hand to his chest before he can get too close to the new boss. You’re for protecting now, above all else, it’s the unspoken word they all suddenly understand keenly.
You stare solemnly at Joel for only a second longer, those sleep sloped doe eyes, before you’re turning without another word.
-
“He never did a very good job of hiding the way he treated you, sweetheart. I couldn’t ever respect a man like that.”
The cricket song is a symphony of sound around the two of you, and you’re suspended for a second, he sees it come on—a rose hued haze, and then blink-of-an-eye donning a look that spells nothing but disaster. He’s thrown off course by it for a single second, that girl fantasy glow, before you’re launching yourself at him, and then it’s nothing but a soft wet mouth, smoked fruit and fired oak, the slick of your tongue against his bottom lip as you kiss him.
You’re kissing him.
He’s a frozen solid husk, eyes wide open as he stares down at the look on your face—something like agony. The tiny frown between your eyebrows, concentration, and a single diamond tear caught in the web of your lashes, and he can’t help but notice the soft press of your breasts against his chest, you’re not wearing a bra, before he’s shoving you back by the shoulders, scrambling to get as far away from you as quickly as he can.
His back hits the railing before he can get far enough. “What the fuck are you doing?” He spits, but can’t help but lick his tongue along his bottom lip, tasting where you’ve just been.
His stomach is suddenly hot.
You swallow convulsively, bleary eyed look turning to hurt, pressing your palm to your belly, twisting your fingers in the fabric of your sweater there. “I don’t— I didn’t—” Your eyelashes flutter shut, closing the hurt, confused look away from him for one blessed second. You press your other palm to your forehead, gripping yourself as if you’re trying to hold your very skin together.
What do you think you’re doing? He enunciates each word like the lash of a whip, and then licks his lips again to soften those same blows for himself.
Something is about to go inexplicably wrong here. Something already has. A tragedy worse than the death of a father
“I just thought that—” You blink your eyes open and they’re wet, and he’s about to bark at you to not fucking cry or he’ll lose it completely, but he swallows it or loses the thought to madness. He feels incomprehensibly insane, inconceivably triggered.
This is like nothing he’d ever imagined, and it tilts him on his axis, skews his vision, headlights blinding you in a dead-on collision.
What are you doing—thinking?
“I— I watched you grow up. I watched you—” You take an anxious step towards him, some word on your lips he can’t even make out because his hearing has gone out, and now he’s all of a sudden deaf in both ears instead of just one. He hardens his voice further. He makes sure you understand. “This is fucking wrong, and you need to get away from me right now,” reversing his movements, taking a threatening step forward, stomping his heavy boot against the floorboards beneath so that you’re jumping, skittering backwards like a frightened little rabbit.
And Joel, the beast, crushing her beneath his foot.
You wrap both of your hands around the delicate column of your throat; he imagines you’re holding in your hurt sounds, and it makes him even angrier.
“Listen to me—” he starts again.
But you cut him off, shaking your head, the confused sleep-look being blinked away so that now it’s spitting fire that is awake and angry in your gaze. “But you didn’t,” you say. “You barely know me. We’re almost strangers.” A scoff, and then switching again to soft, to girl-like, to hurt: “And I’m all grown up now, Joel.”
“I don’t know what you reckon is happenin’ here between us. Or what you think— what you—” He looks away, can’t bear the sight of it, you, fuck, he spits, again, fuck. “If I gave you the wrong impression, I’m sorry, but—”
Then in a broken little voice grasping for straws, “But we were born on the same day,” and you say it like a question. Like it should mean more. Like, and he realizes it now, like it means the world.
He turns back to look at you, and he feels full of everything but mercy—too much regret. “And what? What do you think that means? That we’re connected—meant to be?” His voice sounds full of cruelty. “Don’t be delusional. It’s also the day my daughter died. D’you know that?”
A blink. “What?”
“She died on my thirty-fourth birthday.”
Again. “But… Wh—at?” Broken up word, and your chin does a little wobbling dance, jutting this way and that, and you have a dimple in your cheek that comes out when you’re happy, but also when you’re sad. When you’re about to cry. He sees it now, and starkly.
He’s ruining something sacred.
Joel steels himself. “Whatever it is you’ve made up in your mind about us, it’s a fantasy. Something not real that you need to let go of. Are you hearin’ me?”
“I— I think…” You won’t stop blinking, your hands look like they’re about to strangle you, and he steps forward as if to stop you or save you from yourself. “Why didn’t you ever say?”
But instead of saving, “Why would I? Why would I ever tell you that?” He does not want to hurt you, and yet he cannot help it, and Joel wonders if this is how your father felt every time he failed you—like a lesser man. “Wasn’t for you to know—it doesn’t mean the same thing to us.” That day. He makes himself clear: “Whatever child’s fantasy you’re still holding onto, you need to let it go.”
-
He rushes out of the bunk after you, a growled, you little shit, at Ellie as he passes her.
“Man, what’d you fuckin’ do?” She calls after him in that tone that tells him that of course she knows what’s happened. You two’ve never been able to keep a single thing from each other. Asshole! She shouts at his back as he catches up to your slowly retreating form. Your movements are sluggish, exhausted.
He calls your name and tries to moderate his tone from being as aggressive as he feels right now. “We gotta talk.” He follows after you, hot on your heels and then jumping back like a scared mut when you spin around on your ridiculous boot to face him.
“Speak.” It’s a high-handed tone, that one. One that says he’s the grunt here, and you the queen, that you’d both forgotten it last night, but the battlelines are clearly drawn now. There’ll be no more forgetting.
And it’s all his fault.
“You can’t—” His heart thumps and thumps and thumps like a pitiful thing. “You can’t undermine me in front of the boys like that. There’s a reason I was saying no.”
“Which is?”
“That the kid’ll be in the way.”
And you flinch and Joel prays for a gun to the back of the skull. Fucking Christ, but this is difficult.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he gruffs. “You know what I mean. This is hard work we do here. I don’t want the kid gettin’ hurt, I don’t want to be responsible for that. What goes on here is on me. The people who get hurt, it’s all on me, and I take that responsibility damn serious.”
You tilt your head at him in that queer, inspecting way of yours. The one he’d watched you pull like a weapon against your father so many times. He finds he hates it now, detests it, being wielded against himself. You ignore his words, “What was your arrangement here—with him? How did this work with the ranch?”
There has been that thought always, and obviously, of you as something higher, that symbol of the family or the safe haven this place has been for Joel. The not-respect he had for your father, but surely the understanding—you've always been all wrapped up in that. He's at times felt grateful for your existence, perhaps, in ways. That something as good, as better, as you could exist in the same world Joel exists in. Perhaps he’d admired you in ways, even as a young girl, for your goodness, your sincerity. But he finds now, at this look of disdain you’re wearing against him, that he hates the feeling of being less than you, of not being good enough to even stand in your presence.
He’s done wrong, marred it all in ugliness. He’s put himself in this position somehow, by hurting you, by confusing you, by wanting—
“I do what I need to, what the ranch needs. Whatever decision I need to make, I call it and it’s on me. Monthly reports to him and that was it. He understood that what happens out here is different to what can be told and sometimes you can’t plan for certain shit. He focused on the business, I focus on the ranch.”
By wanting what?
Bringing the mug to your lips, you take a long sip, humming. It’s all a taunt. Joel realizes, suddenly, and with painful clarity, that this has all been a grave miscalculation on his part.
As uncomfortable as it is for even him to admit, you are, and undeservedly, a person used to not being wanted, used to rejection. Joel understands this with the quick fire blink of an eye. And he has, in his shock, or— or… he doesn't know—instantaneous awakening—unintentionally alienated you, made an enemy.
I see, you murmur quietly coupled with a bitter cough of laughter that doesn’t sound anything like the sweet sound he’s used to hearing from you. Yes, a very bad mistake has been made indeed. “Well, you’re practically king here, aren’t you then? Quite the partnership the two of you had.” You smile wide, all bright teeth.
The coffee sloshes in the mug held in your unsteady hand, and he worries there’s something stronger in there too.
“Not at all. I’m just good at what I do.” He shoves fisted hands into his pockets, trying to keep patient. Trying not to throttle you, check your drink for himself.
“And is this how you’d like to continue going forward? I mind my own business, and you do as you please?”
He shakes his head slow, grinds the pulverized mint between his molars, “I want whatever you think’s best. You’re the Kelly now, after all.” You get a look on your face like you don’t like the sound of that at all, and he turns to spit the greens between his teeth, coughing roughly.
“Yeah, I’m sure of that,” you say with teeth bared, and then whipping your head away from him as if you can’t bear the sight of him a second longer. The coffee sloshes the other way, splashing against your wrist. He hopes it’s not burning you. “You know, you’ve got some fucking nerve, Joel. You—”
The robe—all of a sudden, saturated by the dark liquid, it grabs his attention. It’s in a plaid print, expensive looking, like something you’d see an older man wearing. A man’s robe? He cocks his head, “Whose robe is that?” Cutting your tirade short.
What? You spit, all sass, his stomach burns, turning to look back at him as if he’s gone idiotic, grown a second head. He feels a little bit like he’s in the process of doing so—wracked with growing pains. “It’s my ex-boyfriend’s. Can you focus, please? I’m trying to have a fight with you right now.” And you scrunch your nose too adorably for him to find anything besides endearing. Certainly not intimidating.
He grunts, displeased.
“I know you don’t want to hear it—”
“Then keep it to yourself.” You turn, continuing on your way up to the house, coffee flies with your spin, boyfriend’s robe whipping out in your wake as he follows like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs.
A little desperately, like a dog, too. A begging for scraps imitation game he hadn’t intended to play but feels obligated to now, and by his own doing.
“But I want to say—about last night…”
You turn on your heel out of nowhere again, and he stumbles to not rush head first into you, to not touch you.
The look on your face is all heartbreak. “Do you remember—when I was away at school—and I fell off the horse? When I came home with that broken arm and couldn’t get back on and you helped me? Do you remember that, Joel? How you reminded me how I was supposed to do it—”
He coughs, uncomfortable, shifting like that same scared dog. “You remember these things different than I do.” The words feel cowardly spilling from his tongue, but he should be honest. Shouldn’t he?
This is what he should be doing, isn’t it?
“I remember that you were kind. That you cared. That’s what I remember.” Your eyes are glossed again, and now it’s Joel that has to look away.
-
“I didn’t care. It was my job to serve your father. To do as he’d want me to. It was a responsibility.”
It’s happening again. A tale like any other you’ve too often heard. You know he’s not lying, and yet everything he says feels precariously close to it.
“Why are you being like this?” And you ask it very practically, like you really want to know, like you’ve asked the same sort of question to the same sort of figure before, and so now you’re extremely well practiced, an expert even.
“You remember these things differently. Wrong—That’s not how I meant any of it—whatever you’re thinkin’. It was just a kindness.”
“No, but I— but you…” That’s the point, you want to say, a kindness, but the words stick. You look away again, colored in shame, can’t bear the sight of him. “Maybe you’re right,” you whisper with that very remembered kindness of your lonely childhood thrown back in your face now. “Maybe I do.”
“Listen to me—I’d like for things between us to be— I’m not… I don’t now what to fuckin’ say to you.”
“Honey—” Dina calls from the porch, your father’s assistant, now yours by inheritance, you suppose. “We gotta go soon—gotta get you ready.”
“I have things to do with Dina. I don’t have time for you—for this. Do what you want, run it how you like,” the ranch, “But the kid stays. That’s final.”
You won’t look at him again, you decide. You’ll learn to want a new thing. You’ll learn to love a new thing.
If you had it in you, you’d laugh in his face.
Have you been in love with him? Probably not in any way that could’ve been called mature, it was the girl-fantasy of a neglected child latching on to a man who’d always seemed nothing but steady and kind.
So you’ll learn to grow up now, no choice left in the matter, let the fantasy go.
-
Despite your desire for debauchery and the three days of bad behavior you’d promised yourself, you’ve got shit to do.
An hour after your ridiculous non-conversation with the ridiculous man, you and Dina are stepping back out into the summer sunshine when your phone rings with a call from another ridiculous man for what promises to surely be another even more ridiculous conversation.
Jacopo.
You’d met through the friend of a friend at the party of someone or another in Monaco. Come from an Italian mother and a French father, you should’ve known he was going to be an arrogant asshole from the get go, but he’d been beautiful and momentarily distracting—things you knew you didn’t really want but told yourself would suffice. Really, all he was, was boring, the same as everyone else, wanting something from you without having to truly return anything in full.
Jacopo the jockey—sounds like a goddamn cartoon.
You liked to call him Jack, like he were the same sort of plebeian he saw all Americans as, and which he absolutely loathed with the sort of passion only an uppity French man could possess.
In the distance, you can see Joel, Frank and Bill propped up against the corral watching as Jesse runs Ellie atop a gorgeous chestnut Quarter. Sometimes she likes to compete, when she can get Joel to stop complaining about it for a second.
Dina makes her way towards them, “Tell them we’ll take the Ghibli,” you call after her to which she throws a thumbs up. At the sound of your voice he peers over his shoulder, finding your eyes immediately, catching there—fish on a burning hook. And then turns full around, leaning back to rest his elbows on the iron grate as you take French boys call, settling in to watch you.
“Hi, Jack, sweetie. How’s it hangin’?”
“I do not know what this means.”
Bore. “What do you want, Jacopo? I’m busy.”
“My love, we must speak. I have heard of your father. You should have call me, I will come to be with you now. Tell me where you are.”
“Why the hell would I want you to come be with me? We broke up. Remember?”
Joel watches you as the French idiot prattles on about how he loves you and how you need him and how the two of you belong together, blah blah. Odious man, you don’t know how you ever let him inside of you.
Across the lawn, he isn’t looking away, and his gaze burns where it touches. You feel—humiliated, hurt, rejected, so angry it’s a physical ache.
Not surprised.
Perhaps in some way, his rejection was what you’d wanted, had been looking for. Perhaps, it was your subconscious search for the easy way out. Because, and really, what else had you thought would happen when you’d thrown yourself at him half drunk? That he’d suddenly stop seeing you as the child he’d known you for always, take you as a woman, want you, fuck you right there on your newly dead father’s front deck?
Ridiculous.
You can’t even think about the birthday—about her. It’s a snipped lifeline, a crushed tether.
“Cherie, I must tell you I am feeling very neglected now by you. You don’t call. You do not love me no longer, or what is the problem?” More nonsense and really, this fuckin’ guy needs a boot in his ass pronto.
And the one still watching you—something even worse. He’s got his mangy brown cowboy hat pulled low over his brow, the one for the ranch, not the lovely dark one for escorting orphans to the funerals of dead fathers, and his jaw works the mint leaves you know he’s got between his teeth, slow and steady. You should hiss at him. Instead, your tummy smolders with heat and butterflies.
Stop looking at me, you horrible man, you want to shout.
Humming and hawing at the annoying voice coming through the phone, you smooth your palm over the silk of your dress. You’d wanted to look nice today, your first Kelly meeting. You wanted to look better than you feel, which is like shit, quite frankly.
There are tiny green paisleys patterned over the deep blue of the dress, a shock of dark red maroon for the cashmere knit of the cardigan tied over your shoulders, and a little silken kerchief wrapped around your throat, something from your mother’s things you’d gone through last night after Joel had ordered you to bed with your tail tucked between your legs and tears in your throat.
Twenty four years later, and your father still had all her things preserved in their bedroom as if she’d only stepped out for the afternoon. A veritable mausoleum right there in your house-not-home.
You’d never even stood a chance.
-
He watches you begin to pace across the deck, but the look on your face tells him you aren’t quite listening to whatever it is the person on the phone’s saying to you.
The gold and silver bangles that slide around your fine boned wrists jingle a song of temptation. Siren song, bird song, death march, something he’d follow with blind eyes, recognize deaf. And heavy gold and jeweled rings along your fingers that shine almost as bright as the spilled silk of your hair. Swathed in shades of jewel, you’re all woman, done up and ready to go out and devastate.
He doesn’t know how any man could ever look at you and not want you.
He doesn’t know how he’ll ever be the same from here on out.
“Who’s she talkin’ to?” He asks Dina, tipping his chin over at you. He can hear you raising your voice, something about you fucking French moron, and he doesn’t like the hunch he’s got about who it is.
“Boyfriend,” Dina says while she watches Ellie work the horse with hearts in her eyes.
“Thought he was an ex.”
She peers up at him suspiciously at that, a queer little smile tipping the corners of her mouth upwards. “Well maybe now that he knows how much she’s worth he’ll be coming back, huh?”
Joel swears all these fuckin’ women are conspiring against him, trying to send him to an early grave. “He steps foot on this ranch, and I’ll shoot him in the goddamn ass.”
She laughs, throwing her head back which inevitably draws Ellie’s attention. “You are literally so dramatic.”
“What’s he bein’ dramatic about now?” Ellie calls from behind, trotting up to the corral edge.
“Ohhh, nothin’. Just Joel being Joel. Right, old man?” Dina bumps her hip against his and he grunts, refusing to be goaded. He’s not being dramatic, it’s his responsibility to take care of you now, to watch over you.
That’s all.
“I’m never dramatic,” he tells them very seriously.
On the porch, the spat reaches a crescendo and they all turn to watch the show.
Why don’t you shove the whole Eiffel Tower up your ass, you fucking dipshit. And don’t you ever call me again!
“Little girl’s got a mouth on her,” Bill murmurs.
Ellie lets out a long whistle. Deserved, Dina adds. On the porch, you let out a strangled little screech, stomping the high heel of your boot as if you’ve got half a mind to throw a fit.
Joel feels hypnotized, speared through the gut.
He wants to know what the ex-boyfriend said. What his name is. Where he’s from and who he is and what he does and how he is and every single thing about him and how it was between the two of you.
He is suddenly desperate to know everything there is to know about you in a way that makes his throat feel swollen with guilt. In a way he didn’t ever think he’d want from you.
All the things you keep close, all the small intimacies that make you this person you are now, that’s what he wants.
You stomp down the steps, making your way towards them, eyes directly on his, and you’re too fucking beautiful for his own good, watching you feels like a sin.
Makes him feel in danger, like prey.
“All men should die,” you yell over.
See.
“I agree,” Dina says cheerfully.
“You know you can have a baby with the junk in your bones from another woman now,” Ellie adds helpfully.
“The junk in your bones?” Joel says.
“I don’t think that’s true.”
“Yeah, like really we don’t even need you for shit anymore.”
“They should all be put in a hole in the ground in the middle of Nebraska and only be let out when a girl wants to bone.”
“To bone—Jesus fuckin’ Christ, Ellie.”
“I love that idea,” you say, finally coming to stand right before Joel. He swallows hard, stays silent—feels like the cat’s finally caught his tongue.
“Why Nebraska?” Franks asks, puzzled.
He’s got to stop looking at you, he’s got to get away from the sight of your eyes, feels like the colors of you seem to pulse brighter, and he feels it all like a touch against his skin. He turns to look at Ellie over his shoulder and with a huge, shit-eating grin she says, “Cause who the fuck knows where fuckin’ Nebraska is, huh?” Her eyes flash to you and then quickly back to Joel, winking, cheeky, knowing. He feels the noose tighten.
They’re definitely conspiring against him.
The three of you cackle—at his expense.
“Where’re you two headed?” Bill asks with a frown when the three little hyenas settle.
“She’s got a meeting in Jackson,” Dina tells him. “First part’ll be quick—she’s just gotta kick some pushy jackass to the curb and tell him we’re not leasing mineral rights to him no matter how hard he begs or how much money he throws at us. Then…” she trails off, throwing you a worried glance, but your eyes are on the far off mountains now, and Joel watches a shaky swallow pass through your throat.
“Then we’ve got the will reading,” you say.
A sharp ache starts up behind Joel’s left eye, all the easygoing laughter of a few moments ago sucked away with a few words and a single reminder. That you’re not the girl you used to be, laughing and playing with Ellie, that your father is dead, that you have a world of responsibility to face now.
“You shouldn’t have to go all the way into town. They should be comin’ to you here.”
“I want to get out—see his office.”
“S’only been a few days, honey,” Frank says gently. “You should take it easy.”
“Thanks, Frank,” you reach out to squeeze his arm, flush of emotion across the bridge of your nose. “I’m okay, promise.”
Joel takes you in, in full. You’ve got something shimmery swept across the highs of your cheekbones and glossy lips, the fine grain of your skin—pristine like you're made of sugar and everything good in the world. The silky wisps of baby hair at your temples that look softer than anything he’s probably ever touched in his whole life. And you’re so beautiful it almost hurts the eye to look at you, beautiful in a way that makes men cower at the sight, like you’d be the strongest thing in the whole world. But he sees all the rest too. The delicate curves of your shoulders, the fine swoop of your collarbone and the quick-fire beat of your pulse beneath the fragile skin of your throat. There’s fear all around you in a way, a desperate sort of sadness.
He wishes there was more he could do for you, that he could bear the burden of all this entirely in your stead, that he could be all you need and want him to be without having to sacrifice his soul to give it to you.
Your eyes flash back to his, and he worries for a second that you can read his mind.
Behind you, Jesse pulls up with the sleek black of your father’s favorite car. Of course you’d choose this for today, bets you’ll find a way to turn it into a pretzel before the days end.
“Take Jesse with you,” he says low at your back as you turn for the car.
You look over your shoulder at him and his spine throbs. “No.”
Following you around the front of the car, he pulls the door open for you. “You’re not moving around alone anymore. He’s going. Jesse—” he whistles, “You’re going into town with Miss Kelly.”
“Yezzir,” he smiles with the sunny easiness only he possesses.
“Excuse me,” you turn to frown up at him, stomping your foot again, and you’re a little bit of a brat, he’s realizing. “There’s no room in the car for him. He can’t come.”
“He’ll take a truck,” he says, leaving no room for discussion, but then gentles his voice again, “Things are gonna be different now. You’re the Kelly, you can’t go on all gung ho about your new reality. You need taking care of. Can you not fight me on this, please?”
“What I need—”
“Is to be protected.”
You give a delicate little huff through your nose that he finds to be just about the cutest damn thing he’s ever seen in his whole life. “Then it’ll be my choice how and who.”
“It’s easier if you just do as I say.” Grasping, grasping, praying for patience.
“You overbearing d—”
“You’ll be okay meeting this jackoff? Don’t need me to come with you?”
You glower at him.
“I’m bein’ serious with you. I know you’re capable,” he puts his hands out, palms up in a conceding gesture, “But this is new, and there’s no shame in asking for support.”
At that, you get a confused little pinch between your brows, softest rose shaped mouth he’s ever seen—felt—all pursed up, and he thinks it’s wrong now, trying to be sweet to you after last night, looking at you this way and seeing the things he’s seeing. He should stay away, go away forever, find a hole in the ground in the middle of nowhere to bury himself in like you’d said, but he worries now, and quite desperately really, that he won’t ever be able to leave your side again after all this.
“I have Dina.”
“I know, but—”
“Can you please just… not. I think— I think it’s better if we just steer clear of each other. If I need something,” you look away now, hazy look from last night back in your gaze again, like you’re remembering, like you’re wanting something else he’s not willing, not capable of giving, “I’ll ask for it. Otherwise you can focus on what’s important to you.”
Gut punch.
He soldiers on, can’t help it.
“You feelin’ alright?”
Your eyes flit back to him for a fleeting second and there’s honesty in your gaze now, maybe something extremely vulnerable too, and then shuttering again, looking away again. He’d demand your gaze if he had the right, insist you tell him everything there is to know with just your eyes if you were his.
But really, he’s got no right to ask anything.
So instead, “Tell me what’s wrong,” he begs, praying you don’t say him.
What’s wrong? A laugh and—nothing. Like your father isn’t dead, like he hadn’t hurt you as he had last night, like you’re looking for answers etched into the mountains or the sky. You bring your thumb to your right temple and his own aches in response, digging there for some unseen pain to be gouged out. “Tired—was having bad dreams.” Your voice sounds full of air, and you’ve got a huge emerald on your ring finger, an even larger turquoise stone beside it, other hand is covered in a row of opals—you’re a treasure of a girl, all the way inside and out, and it’s like he’s staring at a work of art, knowing that if he were to touch, it’d all be ruined. Your voice full of air floats in his bad ear and booms out the good one full of forlorn want.
It feels like you’re the only two people left in the whole of Wyoming, standing here together under the sweet sun, maybe the whole world, and he’s ridden in guilt, wants to tell you he’s sorry again, beg or something, and thinks that God should give you the chance to rewind time when you’ve made someone feel this bad without meaning to.
You whisper at the Tetons, and he’s all but forgotten, “I feel a little bit like I’m the real nightmare.”
“You couldn’t ever be, sweetheart,” he tells you and means it with his whole heart.
It’s all agony swimming in your eyes, and if you don’t stop him, he’s going to take you into his arms right here in front of everyone. You need more than protecting, it’s clear, you need caring for, you need loving—the sort of something he can tell you’ve never had in your whole life.
“Ready to go, honey?” Dina calls from the other side of the car, her canoodling with Ellie finally come to a pause.
You’re snapped out of your reverie, looking down at your feet, impractical boots again, these ones sexy and tall and not for his admiring, blinking away the wash of heat that’s bloomed across the bridge of your freckled little nose.
“Did she eat?” He asks Dina over your head.
“Ehhhhh, but I brought a smoothie,” she pulls out a thermos from her large bag and smiles all beaming and large.
“A smoothie ain’t food. Get something else in town.”
“You're so prepared,” Ellie sighs dreamily beside her.
“You’re annoying me,” you grouch at him, tossing your bag into the backseat, sliding into the luxuriously leathered interior as he shuts the door gently behind you, bending down to brace his palms against the open window.
“Drive careful. Call me if you need anything.”
“You’re kinda a helicopter mom. You know that, Joel?” Dina tells him with that sweet smile of hers.
“Do not entertain his nonsense,” you snap.
“She’s just grumpy because Vogue France posted a piece on her and the funeral—the heiress to watch, they’ve called her.”
“I don’t know who they think I am—Kendall fucking Roy? This isn’t HBO, it’s my goddamn life.”
“It’s fine, drink your smoothie, here,” Dina soothes.
“I don’t got a clue what any of that means,” Joel says. “And do up your belt,” frowning at you and pulling away just in time when you speed off with half the admonishment still on his tongue
-
The bar is loud and sweaty and crowded enough there’s room for your spite, which he knows, is all this night out is.
The day had gone from terrible to horrible to heinous, and he’s officially reached his limit now. You’d returned from your late morning in Jackson toting a gray cloud that’d settled over the entire ranch and everyone in it. All work had come to a slow and grinding halt, the mood morose, knowing that the lady of the manor was grieving and angry.
And then a few hours into the evening, you, Ellie, and Dina had spun into the bunk, already giggling on drinks he was certain were too sugary and way too strong to end in anything good. Looking to rile up the boys into heading back to Jackson and finding a bar to terrorize.
And so here he now finds himself, stepping through the door of The Mushroom, ridiculous name for a bar if anyone asked him, eyes searching for the gleam of your hair, that tiny fucking outfit you’d draped yourself in. You were hunting for trouble, to aggravate him, trying to hurt him with your, you’re not invited, Joel—no one wants you to come.
Angry, angry as a spitting fire.
He’d felt like shit about himself and your upset for a second, and then had thought: Well, are you going to cowboy up, Joel? Or just lay here and bleed?
Now, there’s something sick in him that wants more of it, to take everything you’ve got to give, to see how far you can go, to push you just a little bit further too.
A masochist, is what he reckons he might actually be.
He finds Ellie’s bent head whispering into Dina’s ear, giggling and dragging her fingertips up the other girls bare arm, and he feels a thump of fondness for the two—happier than he can say that they’ve finally worked it all out after months of their will-they-won’t-they struggle.
Making his way over to them, he catches Frank in the distance, dancing to the countryfied Abba cover of Chiquitita the local band’s currently playing while Bill stands nearby, serious and menacing, keeping anyone from getting too close to his partner.
No sign of you, and the backs of his knees itch and burn.
“Where is she?” He demands when he reaches Ellie at their place against the bar.
“Oh, dude. She’s gonna be soooo pissed.”
“Where, Ellie?”
Get you anything to drink, sugar? The bartender calls and Joel shakes her away, panic thumping in his gut the longer he doesn’t have eyes on you.
Dina knocks her head towards the end of the L-shaped bar, closest to the throng of dancing patrons, and there in the last seat and partially obscured by someone’s shoulder and ridiculously feathered hat, you sit.
“Who the fuck is that?”
“Can you please just leave her alone. She needs to blow some steam off.”
“Yeah, Joel, we’re watching her,” Dina adds, always the peacekeeper.
Or blow someone, Ellie adds in a snicker, and he gives her a death glare. “You need to quit the asshole act,” she tells him, purposefully thunking her beer hard enough on the bartop that some of it sloshes over the lip of the bottle onto his hand braced against the edge.
Real mature.
“Changed my mind,” he tells the bartender when she heads back their way, “Shot of Jameson.”
Beside him, Jesse appears, beer in hand as he leans against the bar to watch you also. “That might just be the most beautiful girl I’ve seen in my whole life, honest to God,” he sighs wistfully.
Joel sees red—this is just too much. “Quit fuckin’ lookin’ at her,” he snaps.
Ellie snickers knowingly, and Frank and Bill join the group, picking up on the topic of conversation.
“That little girl can drink a grown man under the goddamn table,” Bill says.
“And looks good as hell doing it too—”
“Eyes off, you little shit,” Joel sends a threatening glance at Jesse again.
Ellie ignores them both. “He’s a finance bro or some shit—from New York—here to play cowboy dress up with the group he’s with. Nothing I can’t handle, and you need to cool it and leave or have a drink and let her have fun.”
“She’s vulnerable right now, Ellie—”
“Yeah, you would know.”
Joel’s turn to do the ignoring, “And she needs someone to watch her back.”
“I’m fuckin’ watching it, man. You’re so annoying, and I’ll have you know that—” The fucker’s got a thick lock of your long hair trapped between his probably manicured fucking fingers, smoothing it between his thumb and index and then looping it around and around, drawing you in closer.
Joel’s about to start howling.
You’ve done something to him, knocked something askew inside him, and he needs you to set it back to rights. Let him out of this saw trap he’s been caught in.
The man says something that has you throwing your head back in an overly eager laugh, loud and melodic in the most hypnotizing sort of way, meant to draw the eye or seduce or send his gut to twisting and aching.
Ellie’s saying something about how you need to have fun, how you need to find yourself, and all Joel can think is that he can be the one to give you that, to help you do all that while still making sure you’re alright, taken care of.
Over the wannabe cowboy’s shoulder, he sees your eyes land on him, and you give him one of those serenely beautiful smiles he knows means he’s about to lose his fucking mind and cause a scene.
A provocation of a smile is what it is.
You cross one long leg over the other, a flash of hot pink his eyes can’t help but flash to beneath the obscene hem of your skirt and lean in to whisper something, glossy lips right at his ear, and a tick starts up below Joel’s left eye. The fuckwit pulls you in closer, and you tip into him, hand on his shoulder—your eyes never leave Joel’s, and then you’re pulling him off the barstool and leading him into the throng of dancing people. He’s desperate to know what the back of your hot pink underwear looks like—string of lace wedged between the cleft of your ass, or silk wrapping around the full cheek like a perfect present? The man pulls you into himself, spinning you around, and you’re made up of blues and purples and pinks, shimmering like something that shouldn’t exist here amongst all the rest of them. Slinky little top made of silk like water and sparkles, your cheeks, flushed with drink or heat, but he’ll tell himself it’s because of him, because you’re still angry at him, thinking of him, and it soothes the tempest that’s brewing in his gut.
He spins you towards himself, the man Joel’s about to beat senseless, shooting the Jameson without really tasting anything but the insane jealousy souring to irrational fury on his tongue, it pulses in his throat once, twice, and the fucker tugs you into himself again by a handful of your ass in that too short skirt and sticks his tongue in your mouth. Joel slams the glass on the bartop, not seeing red anymore, something like dark spots now, he’s so fucking pissed off.
Ellie yelps his name, her and Jesse scrambling after him, but they’re too late and he’s there already, pulling you away, and gently because he might be feeling a little bit like a demon right now, but he knows what you are and how to handle you no matter what—and slams his fist into the fuckers nose, the satisfying crunch of broken bone and a pathetic cry sounds as he hits the sticky bar floor. The people around peer over in nothing more than mild curiosity, this is a cowboy bar after all.
He watches the man for a second, making sure he stays down, and then turns to look at you and isn’t at all surprised when he finds that look of victory on your face.
“Ready to go?” Voice all sweet innocence.
You’re going to kill him.
Spinning around on the toe of your boot, the hem of your little skirt flutters with your movements and he catches a flash of cheek, mystery of your panties still unsolved.
“You’re a real dumbass, you know that?” Ellie snarks as they pass the group of them.
He chooses to ignore that observation. “Don’t stay out too late. And let Bill drive back.”
Following you out into the night, he tries to take control of himself, to lie away the heat he feels sitting heavy in his stomach.
He wishes he had a mint leaf to pulverize between his molars, he wishes he could pull you over his knee and spank your ass for being such a bad girl. And looming behind you, he knows you’re not even a little bit intimidated by his size as you dance and prance across the parking lot towards his truck.
“I know you’re ticked off because of last night and today, but you can’t lash out just because you’re angry with me.”
All he gets in response is that head-thrown-back wind chime laughter—the real one, which is something.
“You need to stop misbehaving,” he breathes down your neck.
“Hmm, I don’t think I will,” you singsong.
“Are you drunk?” Refusing to be distracted, he’s going to stand strictly on business, he promises himself.
You spin around again—always catching him off guard and pissing him off—hooking yourself on his shirtfront, pulling yourself into him like you’re trying to dance some fucked up dance he doesn’t know the steps to.
“Not at all.”
“You need to not be touching me right now,” he warns, the threads of his control dangerously close to snapping, walking you backwards without putting his hands on you. Chest to chest, he feels like he could breathe fire if he really set his mind to it.
“Yes, sir,” you say sweetly, dragging your palms down his chest and belly before letting him go, skipping ahead of him, humming an off-key rendition of whatever kitschy, poor excuse for a country song they’d been playing at the end in there.
The even poorer excuse for a skirt bounces along the curve of your ass, driving him fucking mad—he’s goig to have a heart attack, he’s middle aged, he can’t handle this shit anymore—you.
Stop that, he growls.
“God, you don’t like anything—you’re no fun,” you pout.
Coming to the truck, he yanks the door open for you. “Get in the damn truck.” And he makes sure to turn away and not ogle your ass as you hop in, his palm hovering in the vicinity of your elbow if you need him.
The prospect of an hour and a half of the dark drive and the scent of your musky sweet perfume and sweat soaked skin has his heart pounding. When he pulls his door open, you’re turned in your seat expectantly waiting for him, folded knees up on the seat and pink triangle right there to taunt him.
“Sit right—put on your seatbelt.”
“You’re so bossy.” An exaggerated sigh and your voice is so fucking sassy, a tiny bit of a needy whine threaded through it, he feels his patience snap.
Grabbing hold of your damp cheeks he squeezes hard enough to force your full mouth into a pout and giving your head a little shake he says, “And you need managing, little girl. Put your fucking belt on, or I’ll put it on for you.”
Eyes all pupil and gone blurry, you lick your lips and he can smell the sweet fruit scent of your breath. He groans, pushing you back—mistake, mistake, putting his hands on you at all—and peels out of the parking lot, and he is not hard in his jeans for you.
“Are you mad at me?” You ask after several moments of forced silence.
“No.”
“Not even for last night?”
“I don’t want to talk about that.”
“Why not?”
“I thought you didn’t want to talk about it either.”
“Well, now I’ve changed my mind.”
Jesus, he mutters. “There’s nothing to discuss—already told you what I think and how it’s going to be and that’s final. You need to let it go, you hear me?”
You give a little groaning screech through your clenched teeth, turning away from him, still not wearing your goddamn seatbelt, never doing as he says.
Toeing your boots off roughly, the little skirt hitches high enough on your thighs he catches a glimpse of the smooth glowing skin of your hip, eyes trying to watch the road and your thighs at the same time.
“You’re horrible,” you say through a grimace, but your voice cracks a little bit at the end, and you’ve still got your face turned away so that he can’t tell if he’s made you cry or not now.
“Are you cryin’?” He demands.
“No,” you sniffle, wiping your cheek on a lifted shoulder
“Yes you are, liar.” Fuck—fuck, fuck.
“Well you’re bein’ mean,” you whine, finally turning to look at him again, and you’re all rose glow, cheeks flushed and eyes glossy, lips red as a cherry.
No man should be tested like this. It’s wrong—unnatural.
He tries to gentle his voice and steady the pounding of his heart, pressing down on the gas, wishing the road would disappear from beneath the tires of the truck and that he could have you home and away from him already. “Not bein’ mean, sweetheart. Just—just…” He sighs, “Goddamnit, just don’t how how to handle you,” he curses, losing the grasp on his gentleness.
“See—you are angry with me!” A tear slips down your cheek, and Joel’s mouth waters.
His heart kicks up another notch, hypnotized, “You make me fuckin’ crazy—is that what you wanna hear?”
“Yes.” You turn full in the seat to face him, bent knees against the center console block his view of the apex of your thighs. Fucking Christ.
“Sit right. You’re flashing your bits,” he tries and fails to focus on the road.
“Yeah, that’s ‘cause I want you to see them, stupid.”
Jesus. “How much did you have to drink?”
“Only one High Noon.”
“The hell is that? And quit lookin’ at me like that.”
“Like what?” Your knees shift against each other, and he’s gripping the steering wheel so tight he feels like he could rip it out of the dash.
“You fuckin’ know like what.”
“Well if you hadn’t been such a cock block earlier, I’d be looking at someone else like this right now.”
And the teasing is too much. The bare legs and the tiny skirt and the hair and the lips and the sound of your voice, the kiss last night replaying in his mind over and over and over again like some lovesick taunt, the look of hurt he’d put on your face and the idea of you bare and slick, taking some other man that isn’t him. It’s too much.
He jerks the truck roughly onto the road shoulder and into the grass, wheels spinning and gravel flying. Joel—you squeal, being jostled in your seat so that all he can see are soft thighs and pretty tits bouncing in his peripheral. He puts the truck in park, ripping his seat belt off, reaching over to tug you roughly forward by the nape, his fingers twisting in your hair in a hold he knows is too hard for something so delicate, his other hand grips below the bend of one knee squeezing hard.
“If you think I’m gonna let you spread your legs for anyone fucking else—” he growls.
“Anyone else?” You laugh in his face, eyes spinning with something a little maniacal.
He thought he’d been worried for his soul, that taking you would be the undoing of everything he’d tried so hard to mend back together after Sarah. And really, he had tried so hard—to be good, to be better, to atone for all he’d not done before her, all he’d done after her. He’d tried to make himself into something that was respectful of her memory and the second chance Kelly had given him.
But right here, and again because anytime he looks at you, is within a mile of your vicinity, it feels like you’re the only two people on the whole goddamn planet, he doesn’t think he really gives a fuck for being good or atoning or souls at all. Not even a little bit.
He follows your lead from last night and kisses you, is sure to take your tongue this time. Forcing his thumb and forefinger between the line of your molars, he presses down hard enough to hurt the baby soft skin, spreading your jaw open wide so that he can lick into your mouth deep and wet. He wants to scare you, cow you, intimidate you into behaving with this hunger that seems to swallow him whole—remind you that he’s let you have your fun thus far, but the both of you know who’s playing games and who’s not.
You let out a shocked little gasp onto his tongue, fingers twisting in the fabric over his shoulder, and he tightens his grip under your knee, tugging you just that little bit further forward, and when he pulls back to look at you, spit slick, swollen mouth and wide eyes, tits about to spill out of your top, you push his face away roughly, dragging your nails down the skin of his cheek with a tiny snarling growl.
Spoiled little brat.
“Don’t be fuckin’ childish,” he snarls back, and pulls you roughly over the console and into his lap.
“I can’t stand you,” you pant, settling above him, coming in to kiss him again, and he can’t deny it anymore. He’s hard as fuck for you.
You moan into his mouth, high and throaty at the same time, girlish little sigh at the end that has him gripping your hip tightly, trying to stop himself from thrusting up against you.
“Can you taste him?” You lick his tongue. “He kinda looked like you, didn’t he? That’s why I chose him.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
He’s going to stop this now, at any moment. He’s going to push you away and tell you this is wrong and that the two of you can’t do this.
Instead, you wrap your arms around his neck, pressing your tits high against his chest and grinding your lace covered little cunt against his cock.
He groans into your mouth, pushed straight over the edge and free falling, cupping your ass to lift you off of himself a little bit, he just needs a second, before he takes a breath and presses you back down harder, rolling your hips against his lap. Little animal sounds, an ah, ah, ah and an oh, coupled with his mewled name. Cupping the soft of your ass in the palms of his hands, his calluses scrape against silken skin, and you fit him as if he’d dreamt you up just for himself; perfectly lush curves he can squeeze as hard as he wants because you’re not getting away from him now that he’s caught you in his snare. He drags his fingertips up the roundness of your asscheeks, and the mystery’s solved, it’s a thong. Catching the lace between his fingers he pulls the flimsy string upwards and tight against your pussy, a pained moan when he pulls even harder, making sure the fabric digs against your skin.
He knows if he cups you there you’ll be wet for him, for him, no one else but him. Knows he could bend you face first over the console, pull the soaked lace aside and suck on your wet little clit, make you come in his mouth.
“Fuck, baby,” he groans.
Joel, Joel, Joel, you hum in a dream voice.
He can feel two little dimples at the low of your back, imagines what they’d look like with his thumbs gripped there as your ass takes his cock.
He can’t say it enough—he feels fucking insane.
“Touch me,” you beg, sliding and pressing against him, long hair like water slipping all over and against him too.
Oh my God, he whisper moans when you spread your knees as wide as the seat allows, rocking your hips in short little hitches against the ridge of his cockhead. He knows your little clit is right there, cunt a knot of indescribable heat against him, and you pull your mouth away from his, letting your head fall back, hair a tangled curtain. He drags his nails back down your ass hard enough he hopes he’s leaving marks, leaning forward to lick along the salt tracks of your tears, watching you use him.
“Do not fucking come,” he orders. He can’t—he can’t watch you do it and not be inside you when it happens, and the two of you absolutely cannot take this that far.
He pulls your hips up again, forcing your movements still and you huff at him, whining.
“We gotta stop.”
Noooo. “No, Joel. Please,” you cry, trying to pull yourself towards him—your mouth is so swollen—trying to escape his hold and get what you want for yourself.
Grasping at the last vestiges of his sanity, “Fuck— No. No more.” He lifts you off his lap and back into your seat, sitting back to press himself against the door and adjusting the throbbing erection in his jeans, so hard it’s making him a little nauseous. If he doesn’t stop, he’s going to stuff his cock inside of you right here and now. He tucks the thick head up under his waistband, trying to find any sort of momentary relief.
There isn’t enough oxygen in this truck. He needs air, space, to taste you.
“Fine,” prim little nose in the air. You stretch one leg out across the console to dangle over his groin and let the other drop to the cab floor. “That’s fine—I’ll just take care of it myself then,” you tease provocatively, fingertips dragging up the inside of your thigh.
He shoots forward to stop your movement, gripping your wrist in a vice—baby bird bones beneath his fist, and you moan at his touch like the little wanton he’s coming to realize you are, writhing in your seat. “Don’t you fucking dare. I swear to God I’ll put you over my knee.”
“Jokes on you, I’d like that shit,” you sass back, ripping your wrist out of his hold, little socked foot kicking towards his face. He catches it, holding it in his grip and squeezing. “And I don’t really care if you’re not mad at me because I’m mad at you.”
“I know you are, sweetheart,” and the mood changes, smolders into something more serious, more honest.
-
“Why didn’t you go today? The lawyer asked you to—” You’d wanted to find him as soon as you’d gotten home earlier, demand he give you an explanation. Cowardice had won over that desire, and going out to find a drink and a replacement man had seemed the easier alternative.
“Wasn’t my place.” Spreading his thighs wider in his seat to accommodate himself, he presses his hips forward, and you can make out the heft of his cock beneath his jeans—your belly twists all full of heat and bubbles.
“Did you know he was leaving you something?”
He laughs a bitter bark of a laugh. “No—never thought—” the words die in his throat and he stares out the window, lost to the memory of your father. “No, I didn’t think he was leaving me anything before I got the call.”
“It’ll make a good nest egg.”
“Don’t want it.”
He won’t turn to look at you now, and you know that this conversation in the aftermath of touching you shames him.
“You’re taking it. You don’t have a choice.” His eyes flash fire at you and then flit away. “He had all your banking information, it’s probably already there.”
Fucking Christ, he spits the murmured curse, bracing his elbow against the curve of the steering wheel, cupping his palm over his mouth as if to keep his anger and frustration in. The bulge of his bicep beneath his dark hoodie distracts you for a moment.
You’d spent enough time watching him over the years that you’d learned all the things you knew he tried to hide in plain sight. That gentleness, that patience, that heart—that he is an inconceivably good and honest man. Things that are ultimately impossible to hide.
Your eyes flash to the temple where a gristle of scar tissues is slashed across his skin. The meaning behind a scar like that, coupled with his bad ear and his green eyed photograph—it’s hard to hide. People can always tell when you’ve tried to kill yourself, you know.
Which all goes to say—and you’re quite certain of this—that yes, the two of you are strangers, in ways, but in others, or in your own way, you know this man. You understand his nature. You know he wouldn’t have ever wanted it—that he does not want it and never will. He isn’t the sort of man who’d ever look a million dollars in the eye and feel moved by them.
His humanity means more to him than his life, you’d heard Tommy say about him once to your father when you’d been an eavesdropping little girl. You hadn’t understood at the time, but now you do.
The dark pullover and jeans, incongruously boyish, the scuffed boots—he’s so himself and so fucking hot and you want him so, so badly, and looking at him sitting here now, gorgeous, hair mused by your fingers, and your slick smeared across his jeans—you look down at your own twisted fingers in your lap, a little ashamed now too—and you can’t fathom why or how he’d ever look at you and feel moved by the likes of you either.
You’re ashamed that you’re even angry at him for it at all, resentful of this gift your father has given him when really it is not only resentment, maybe not even truly that at all. More so, it’s a complicated mixing pot of feelings that these two men seem to have always been twisted up into knots together inside of you. Resentful, not because you don’t want him to have it. You want him to have everything he deserves or could ever think to want and more, but perhaps, because this was the final nail in the coffin scrap of proof that your father had cared about him in a very real way that you’d never experienced—in a way that was entirely Oswald Kelly’s own choice and not because of dead mothers or obligation or legacy.
“It’s good he left it for you,” you say gently and mean it.
He looks at you out of the corner of his eyes, looks away, from under the cover of his palm says, “S’not fair to you.”
“It doesn’t have anything to do with me. This is about you and you deserving this, and I’m glad he gave you your due. He should’ve left more.”
His eyes flutter shut, sighing deeply and shakes his head. “You’ve made me into something I’m not. You need to see that.”
“You’re not some sort of cautionary tale, Joel.”
“You don’t know a thing about it,” voice like he could he angry but is being very careful to remain not. “You don’t know the things I’ve done, the reasons why I came here. You should look at me and see nothin’ worthwhile.”
“My father saw something,” you argue. “You let my father see that something. And I do too, no matter what you say, no matter what you do or how hard you push me away; I’m used to it, and you won’t change my mind.”
He gives you a look like you’re hurting him, like your truths hurt him. “We’re goin’ home. This is enough,” he gruffs, pulling the truck into drive again and peeling out of the grassy knoll.
Fight dying in your throat, you feel suddenly exhausted, shivering coldly, belly an ember of unsated lust, your orgasm is tight and wet between your legs and you don’t want to argue or impose yourself on him anymore. You don’t want to feel like you’re imposing yourself now when he’d never made you feel like that before.
The night is a pitch dark blur falling away behind your glazed over eyes, and huddling into yourself against the door, you hide your face away in your shoulder, belly swooping with nausea.
“You drive too fast, I’m dizzy,” you mumble, and he immediately slows, foot easing off the gas.
“You gonna puke?”
“Yes, all over your face.”
“I’m serious, darlin’. Need me to stop?”
“No. I just want to be home,” said in as small a voice as you can manage, hoping he won’t catch your words, and soon he’s turning off into the long drive to the house.
When he pulls to a stop, you scramble to grab your boots before he can say anything else, but he’s unnaturally quick for such a large man, out the door and around the nose of the truck, pulling your own door open before you can even get a single boot on. He pulls them from your grasp, and then tugs you bodily out of your seat, slinging you over his shoulder as if you were some sack of nuisance prone potatoes. You screech, flailing, trying to knee him in the gut, but he bands a strong arm across the backs of your thighs, pinning you in obedient place. “Quit.”
“What the fuck are you doing?” You howl, hitting him repeatedly on the ass, trying to wriggle and make his life as difficult as you possibly can.
This man has absolutely no consideration or respect or sense of personal space!
Technically, neither do you—but that’s neither here nor there.
You scream like a hyena, shrill and long and he pinches your ass hard, right at the inner crease of your thigh and ass cheek, too close to your still wet pussy for comfort. “I said quit.”
“Everything alright out here?” You hear Jesse’s voice call from the direction of the bunk, they must’ve beat you two here while you’d been trying to seduce Joel into making you come.
The snap of Joel’s fingers and then, “Mind your own fucking business.”
“You are so rude.”
He bumps you on his shoulder, jostling you on the soft of your belly and making your cunt go even tighter. You hate him. “Quiet, you.”
Letting himself in the dark of your house, he makes his way up the stairs while you hang quietly upside down now, a little astounded, a lot turned on by how strong he is, lugging you all the way upstairs without even a change in his breathing.
But as soon as he steps foot into your bedroom, now set to rights from yesterday’s disaster, you feel the change come on him. The shift and deepening of his breaths, the expanse of his ribs going wide and winglike as he sucks in a big gulp of air. You press your palm flat to the center of his back, feeling the whistle of his breath go in and out of him until he’s slipping you off his shoulder to bounce gently backwards onto your soft bed.
He stands above you for a quiet moment, and you take in the broad shape of him backlit by the moonlight of your open drapes. He’s huge and imposing cast in this darkness, something out of a dream.
Literally—out of your own teenage fantasy dreams.
Has anyone in all the world ever wanted someone as badly as you want him?
You can feel the press of his left knee against the inside of your right one, and you wish he’d put it between your thighs, join you on the bed.
“Can I ask you something?” You reach your fingers out and he tangles his hand with yours and it’s a small victory.
“Yeah.”
“Would you come to my funeral?”
His fingers jolt— “What?”
“If I died.”
“Don’t say shit like that.”
“Tell me that you would—” You tug him forward and he lets himself come, bending over your prone form, braced on one arm and still holding onto your fingers with the other. “—That I wouldn't be alone even there.”
“You’re not alone.”
“Would you?”
“Makes me angry when you say shit like this—as if you don’t believe I’m going to take care of you.”
“Please tell me, Joel. Promise me—” and you reach up to gently touch the scar across his temple.
He goes frozen and understanding. “I’d come,” and you know it costs him something to give in to such an imagining and it makes you all the more grateful for it.
Fingers sliding back into the curls at his temple, silver speckled, you know, you pull him further towards you until he’s close enough to press a softly hot kiss to his mouth. The two of you hold there for a moment, another, another, you can feel the wash of his heavy breathing through his nose, the flutter of his long lashes tangling with yours—you hope he’s searching for you in the dark—and you lift your knee up onto the bed, bending to open yourself to him.
He pulls back, hand shooting to your jaw to grip you tightly in place, breath ragged, animal being hunted.
You smile.
“Not gonna fuck you,” he says low.
“Why not?” It’s what you want, you deserve to have what you want. He squeezes your face once, presses another hard, too quick kiss to your mouth and then flips you over onto your belly, turning your skirt up over your ass to expose you. He tugs once on the string of your thong, drawing his finger along the lace wedged between your ass cheeks and then pulls his hand away for a moment before he’s spanking you hard and quick.
Owwww, you whine, hitching your rump towards him, wanting more despite the sting. He bends his head and bites you even harder at the inner corner of your asscheek, teeth digging hard and long enough to leave a mark. You whine again, high and mewling, trying to escape his meanness and he smacks you again on the other cheek.
“Go to bed, little girl. I’ll see you in the mornin’.”
And he’s leaving you, broad shouldered form slipping out your bedroom door and leaving you aching and angry to scream into your pillow.
You’re pretty sure you hear his deep laugh before the slam of the door sounds below, and you’re slipping your greedy fingers into the ruined wet of your panties, petting away the ache he’s left.
-
The late May night is cool, despite the daytime heat, and Ellie shivers in her Carhartt, watching as Joel slips out the back kitchen door of the big house.
“The hell is going on with those two?” Jesse says beside her, pulling long on his beer. The litter of yellow cans around them speaks to his mullish whining that he’d not been able to pull tonight. Sometimes he annoys her, but in that sort of endearing little brother way that makes her want to kick his ass and protect him at the same time.
“Nothin’, they’re fine—just gotta fuck it out.”
“You’re disgusting.”
“Naw—just smarter than you, man.”
“They like each other?”
“God, Jesse, you wouldn’t see an obvious thing if it were a tipsy bison barrelin’ towards you full speed in the middle of the day.”
“I don’t know what that means,” he says a little pathetically. Moping men—Ellie really can’t be assed to deal with them all.
“It’s fine. You don’t need to understand. I do—I see all, I know all. You mere mortals wouldn’t understand.”
“S’kinda weird, no? Them two—him bein’ so much older, her bein’…well, you know— her.”
“Nope. Makes perfect sense—they need each other, you see.”
He shrugs, I guess—“You’re fuckin’ weird, too. You know that?”
She takes a swig of her beer now also, hoping the two idiots she loves most in the world, after Dina of course, figure each other out before the whole ranch has to suffer for it too.
“Wrong again, Jesse. Wrong again.”
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#fable of the dog fic#vic fic#joel miller x FMC#joel miller#joel miller smut#the last of us au#joel miller fanfiction
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Hurray 🎉 more asks!!
First off love-love your writing!
I'm not sure if you were the writer or if you've read the snippet. But there was one that I read where Captain Marvel gets de-aged into a child, a speaks an unrecognizable language child (like he was an actual adult not a kid pretending to be an adult). Everything is mostly fine until he asks for his parents and nobody knows who they are. Kid Marvel screams and a giant hole tears open and I assume the JL meets the Everlasting Trio.
I would love to see how you would continue something like this or write something of this nature.
Ironically, the champion of Magic was turned into a child with magic. It was one of those things that he was sure would be funny in a few years but not in the moment. Initially, Bruce had been horrified to see his teammate fall like that from the sky, his form shifting and changing into what could pass as a five-year-old right before his eyes.
The spell caster had unfortunately gotten away with a convenient portal, and they were left scrambling to catch Captain Marvel. There was also the issue of all the civilians that were displaced due to his rampage through the city of Fawcett City.
Bruce quickly worked to have Wayne Enterprise start funding the relief program for them, but it would take time, which was not something they had. He left it to Superman, Flash, and Wonder Woman to get everyone sorted—the three were the best at working with scared civilians.
In the meantime, he Zeta-beamed himself, and the small child Marvel had become up to the watch tower. The boy had been unconscious the entire time, which worried Bruce. After a few tests and scans with the medical staff, as well as his own studies, it was decided that besides being de-aged, there was nothing physically wrong with Marvel.
They would just have to wait till the Champian woke himself.
Bruce wondered how he would take his new form. In all the research he had done on Marvel and the legends of the Wizard, the champion had never been depicted as a child. He had assumed this was due to the champion repeating in various forms- sometimes female, sometimes male- but never as a child.
If anything, Bruce had discovered that they were always at peak physical age, usually from twenty-two to thirty-five. He had assumed this meant the reincarnation or the selection for the champion was just made that way.
How foolish to think they were never children that grew to that age before proclaiming themselves as Captain Marvel.
"Where am I?" a child's voice called, surprising Bruce from his files on Captain Marvel. Twisting around, he finds himself staring into the doe-blue eyes of Captain Marvel.
For a moment, he is reminded of his various children with similar coloring, and it pulls on Bruce's heartstrings to see the distress on that little face. He raises his hands, making sure his voice is softer than his usual growl. Bruce became the vengeance, so every child should feel safe with him after all.
"You're safe here." He reassures, watching the boy's face twist. He steps closer, portraying comfort but not reaching out to touch. "Do you recognize me?"
"Are you a ghost?" The boy's voice is low, slightly fearful. There is no hint of recognition in his posture, expression, or voice. Bruce bites back a swear.
So much for that hope. Still, his teammate needs him. "No, my name is Batman. A few hours ago, we were, in fact, together against a magic user. You were hit and turned into a child. Does any of this sound familiar?"
The boy grips his blanket, bringing it up to his chin, and stares at Bruce with growing distress. He shakes his head just as tears start to swell in his eyes. It's not good at all. "Where are my parents? I want to go home."
He filed that away, wondering if there were any parents to contact for Captain Marvel. He's been around for hundreds of years. If he had been selected as a human, the myths implied, then his parents would have likely been long gone.
Bruce wonders if there is any way he can conceive Captain Marvel coming to live in the Wayne manor until he is turned back. He could leave him to live in the Watch Tower, but he hates the idea of it just as he thinks it.
His face crumbles as Bruce tells him honestly, "I'm not sure where your parents are, chum."
Captain Marvel's tears fall to the bed as he curls up. Bruce reaches out to give him a hug, trying to comfort the distressed child. He is just about to assure him he is safe again, and Batman will help him when the child lets out an ear-piercing scream.
It's high pitch enough that Bruce can't tell if the ringing he hears is from the sound or if it's only in his ears. He opens his mouth to ask when a portal—unlike the one the magic user had cast—rips open in the room.
Out steps a man with snow-white hair. On instinct, Bruce gathers Marvel in his arms, flinging them to the corner and throwing a Batarang at the intruder. He shields the boy behind him, pushing him toward the wall and growling at the man.
His batarang is shot out of the air with some kind of green ray, as the man's eyes narrow.
A sound escapes the man. The structure and expression of the man indicate that it's obviously a language, but Bruce doesn't recognize it. He can tell that the man is angry, though, and that's not something he wants anywhere near Captain Marvel in his current state.
"Who are you!?" He demanded, raising more weapons. "How did you get in!?"
Oddly, Captain Marvel speaks, his words similar to the language the others use, and the white-haired man's face softens.
"You have my son," The man says in perfect English. Bruce raises a brow.
"Do you know him?" He whispers to the wiggling child.
"Yeah, that's one of my dads." The boy whispers back, sounding a lot calmer now that his apparent father is around. Bruce cautiously steps away, watching Marvel run straight into the arms of the stranger.
The man meets him halfway with a loud, excited chirp and purr, bringing the boy into his arms and squeezing him into a tight hug. Bruce watches every hint of body language, concluding he is not lying about being the boy's father.
"I'm sorry about the scare. It's been a long time since Billy used his distress call. I got a little worried." After a few minutes of chirps and purrs exchanged between parents and child, the man says. He raises his head to stare at Bruce with a regal air.
An aristocrat. Bruce's mind whispers, wondering where this noble hails form. Nowhere on earth with his glow or bright eyes. Was Captain Marvel half-human? "It's alright."
"I'm Danny Phantom," Danny tells him, flouting over with an outstretched hand that is not holding his son up. "It's an honor to meet you."
Bruce returns the handshake, keeping his voice and tone even. "Batman."
But inwardly, he swears up a storm. He knows that name and recognizes the legends and myths. Danny Phantom, the Ghost King, ruler of the connecting dimension of the muli-verse. It was one of the first beings he had encountered in his in-depth religious and culture studies, having seen the Ghost King be depicted throughout history even when he was lost in it.
One of the strongest beings to ever exist. Alongside, his wife and husband, who each ruled their own powerful area on the mortal plane- The Green that Posoisin Ivy and Swamp Thing gain their powers were said to be Samatha, the wife of the ghost King.
The meta gene—identified by the scientific community in recent years but proved to exist long before the first ancient Egyptians—was said to be a blessing from Tucker, the Husband of the ghost King. He was the one who appointed the first pharaohs, destroying the meta gene through their bloodline.
And Captain Marvel was their child.
No wonder the man was the champion of Magic. Who else was more qualified than the Heir to the Ghost King?
"It seems like a simple curse. It should reverse on its own," King Phantom comments while continuously turning his child this way and that, making the boy giggle. "It will wear off in only ten years."
Bruce wondered if he knew that was a very long time for humans. But what was a decade to a god?
"Batman was it?"
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"Call me Danny. I was thinking, since Billy will be stuck like this for ten years, maybe my family should go on vacation while he recovers." Bruce does not like the sound of this, but he can't deny the king's action as a bright light overcomes the glowing figure, and a regular-looking human is left in its wake.
"I'll call my husband and wife. Do you know if any properties are for sale in your neighborhood? I want Billy to be close to his work friends."
Bruce was right. He did not like this one bit. Should he risk war with the Infinite Realms to keep them out of Gotham? The answer was no, unfortunately, and he could try to push the family to move to Metropolis so they can be Clark's problem, but he knows that lying to higher beings is never a smart thing.
He sighs, tapping his wrist computer. "I know a realtor."
#dcxdpdabbles#dcxdp crossover#Billy's Parents#Part 1#Everlasting trio move to Gotham#Tucker is the god of the metas since he bestows powers onto people#Form all the times he was possessed and gain powers himself#Billy was made from all three dna but he looks the most like Danny#The trio have forgotten what being human is like#Bruce is tired man
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blinding faith (1)
fall in line now, bow your head
pairings: cult leader! yunho x disciple! reader (fem) x elder! mingi feat. husband! seonghwa
genre: twisted religious romance (if you can even call it that), smut, late 1970s setting
summary: when it’s revealed that you and Seonghwa are having trouble conceiving, the founder graciously offers his own divine solution.
bend your knee, Child of God
w.c: 4k
warnings: aged up dom! yunho, switch! mingi, subby innocent (?) reader, corruption kink, pet names (for mingi too <3), light pain kink, perversion, major sacrilegious vibes and behavior, heavy mxm, mingi sucks cock, breath play (m receiving), light spit/sweat kink, oral (receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, implied marathon sex, breeding kink, cum eating, squirting, an attempt at impregnation
a/n: this is dedicated to my loveliest lily @bunny4yungi <333 tho this is just part oneee i hope this helps you see the light if ykwim~ happy birthday baby 💕 so yeah this is pure filth,, like idk something must’ve happened to me when i wrote this but it’s prob bc i’m a yunwhore what can i say 🙂↕️🫶🏼 oh and thank you all so very much for getting me to 4.6k followers ;; it means the absolute world to me >< anygaysss happy readinggg and please do lemme know if you’re excited for the second part 🖤
song recs: sunshine of your love by cream - starboy by the weeknd - judas by lady gaga (i’m just a Holy Fool, oh baby, it’s so cruel, but i’m still in love with Judas, baby~~)
As a broke, faithless runaway, especially during such a turbulent decade, you didn’t have many options, to say the least. There was no phone that you could use for miles, not a single soul in sight that you could ask for directions or for a dime they could spare, no map to look at to familiarize yourself with your surroundings — not that it mattered. Why would God provide you with what you needed when your existence itself was an accident? Your own flesh and blood didn’t want you, instead dropping you off at some rundown orphanage while you were still coated in your mother’s vernix caseosa, and crying incessantly for her, for someone, to feed you.
When you were old enough to make rash decisions, you decided that anywhere else was better than that hellish place, tired of waiting for a new pair of faceless parents to force you into their life like a misshapen puzzle piece, instead taking your fate into your own trembling hands.
That was what led you to come across the small, seemingly abandoned town that was located within the forest that you had been wandering inside for so long. All of the quaint, hand-built houses and buildings surrounded a tall, white picturesque church — one you had recognized from the various postcards that you and some of the other orphans had been handed by someone in a long white robe outside of the orphanage, listening intently to their promises of the love and acceptance you would feel if you joined their cause.
And that was when you met him, the man that would alter your life forever, taking away what could’ve been, and instead molding it into what He wanted, what God wanted.
He was hammering in the very last nail into the very last board of wood that kept the church together when he heard the sound of your dirty feet shift through the forest foliage behind him. As if he had been waiting for your arrival, he hummed softly and headed into your direction, not giving you the opportunity to escape when his sweaty, calloused hands enveloped yours, inviting you in with his friendly honey brown eyes, his cracked lips twisting upwards into a smile that sent a wave of instinctual fear into your heart, before his soft, warm words lured you in, forever holding you captive.
“You’ve finally arrived, my child. Welcome home.”
-
Over the years, you were taught by Yunho, your beloved leader, your savior, your everything, that God allowed those he loved the most, those that remained tied to their earthly bonds, to endure deep suffering and endless tribulations — because within that pain, within that humiliation, laid pleasure. Unimaginable pleasure that sat just below the surface. Yunho took great satisfaction in reaching into the darkness, into the depths, and ripping it out with his silver trimmed talons, always willing to graciously bestow it upon his followers.
There was no greater joy than to witness the moment his dear flock began to walk in the truth. He savored the sweet sounds of ecstasy that tore out of their sweat-ridden throats, longed for the moment their rosy faces ceased their contortions, their lips, wet with saliva, their unfocused eyes, wet with tears, knowing that another one of his beloved disciples had seen the light. And they would always look up at him with delicious desperation, begging for another chance to catch a glimpse of heaven once more. And, only because of his unending benevolence and boundless love, he brought them back, expecting nothing in return, except for their undying loyalty.
Yet, none of them were ever as loyal as you, even after you met a lovely man within the congregation to wed. You were still his angel from above. If only he had clipped your wings sooner.
There you were, sitting inside the garden with the other couples, the prettiest flower of them all, just waiting to be plucked, with your husband’s arms wrapped around you from behind, his hands resting gently against your stomach, your hands over his, your head hung downwards, a small, sullen frown gracing your lovely face. Why was his sweetest lily wilting the way she was, instead of holding herself high, closer to the sun, to his everlasting love?
As soon as Yunho made his presence known within the bountiful garden that he had planted with his own two hands so many years ago, his followers grew quiet and offered him their full attention. He basked in it as he made his way in your direction, offering his touch to many of the people nearby, allowing them the privilege of bringing his jewelry-adorned hands up to their cheeks, which he caressed, or their trembling lips, which he brushed gently with his thumbs.
The warmth and light of the sun on your face suddenly disappeared, causing you to look up, your reddened eyes growing wide upon the sight of your savior standing before you. You watched with bated breath as he reached his hand out from behind his back and brought it up to your face, placing a small flower behind your ear. “Savior…”
“Savior, what have we done to be blessed with your presence?” Seonghwa asked, nuzzling his cheek into Yunho’s rough palm once he offered it to him.
“I wanted to check on the progress of your union.” Yunho smiled kindly down at Seonghwa, before returning his attention to you, who continued to gaze up longingly in his direction. “Are you with child, my dearest Y/N?”
You bit down into your bottom lip, your eyes brimming with tears. “I’m so sorry, Savior….We’ve been trying our hardest to contribute to your beautiful congregation, yet I remain barren.” You shook your head out of frustration, a stream of tears spilling down your cheeks. “We don’t understand why God has not graced us.”
“Oh, my sweet child. Do not ever allow yourself to cry for sorrow, or pain, but out of joy, of pleasure,” Yunho taught, angling his head down further to gaze at your deliciously distraught expression, unable to keep himself from running his tongue across his bottom set of teeth, pressing one talon underneath your chin, so that you obediently angled it upwards without him having to tell you.
“Yes, Savior…” you whispered, gasping softly at the feeling of the cult leader’s sharpened fingers carefully wiping your remaining tears away, your admiration and love for him sprouting more and more within your beating heart.
Humming, Yunho lowered himself to his knees in front of the both of you, pressing his hands into your stomach through your thin garments. His benevolent smile deepened, his eyes displaying a darkness neither of you could see, not with the allusive veil he had placed over your own. “I will assist you in bearing offspring, my dear. Please come to my bedchambers after supper, and I will show you the true meaning of faith.”
“We offer you a thousand thanks for your grace, Savior…” Seonghwa bowed his head to Yunho, just before he pressed his lips lovingly against your cheek, which you reciprocated without hesitation. Your dear husband sighed with great relief, resting his temple on yours, his long, curled locks tickling your face, his hands returning to your stomach, placing them over Yunho’s this time around.
Despite the tranquility you felt, the sun still shining, a gentle breeze cooling your warm skin, the comforting smell of earth and flowers keeping you grounded, the sound of birds chirping in the trees above your head — there was still something else that you couldn’t quite shake off, something that sat just below the surface of your distorted mind. If you truly wanted to see what it was, you would have to get your hands dirty and dig it up yourself. But, for now, you would live in bliss, in heaven, feeding off of the love and mercy your savior offered you.
Yunho tilted his head to the side, reaching up to adjust the flower that began to fall from your ear, pushing a few strands of hair behind it. He studied your suddenly unreadable gaze from underneath his wispy lashes, his tongue just barely slipping past his curled lips to lick at them. “Is there something on your mind, my lily?”
You simply smiled back at him, your eyelids lowering, batting your own lashes at him. “I’m just admiring my savior and the safe haven he created for us. Makes me want to cry those tears of joy.” You briefly mirrored the perversion he had let slip out only a moment ago. “Of pleasure.”
It was then that Yunho began to grow stiff from beneath his heavy garments, biting at his lip as an attempt to keep himself grounded. This was why you were his favorite. You were his flower to water, to grow, and to tear away from your roots as he pleased. Everything in the garden was his, after all. God told him so.
-
“My love, my heart, my dearest angel, why do you look at me this way? With those tears in your eyes? With such devotion?” Yunho sighed out against your flushed cheek, his body flush against yours, the cold metal of his rosary splayed across your hot skin. You simply couldn’t speak, not with the way he was spilling inside you yet again.
The corners of his lips quirked up into a sadistic smile, his warm, uneven puffs of breath hitting the bottom of your jaw, as he clutched your slick, trembling thighs, holding them farther apart to ensure that he could continue accessing the heaven you kept in between them, the hot, wet haven you allowed your savior to access. “Is it because I’m filling you with my own devotion? Does knowing that my seed will soon grant new life inside of you bring you to tears, Y/N?”
You gazed up at your savior past your wet lashes, reaching down to press your hands into your stomach, feeling the outline of his pulsing cock that twitched inside of you and dribbled a few more beads of cum into your womb, a lust-struck expression carved into your flushed features. “It would be an honor to carry your young, Savior. I’d do anything to carry on your legacy of love.”
“Anything, my dear?” Yunho whispered carefully near your ear, as though he were testing you, before running his tongue along your jaw to get a taste of your essence, slowly making his way down your body, unable to keep himself from tasting your salty skin along the way. “Even though Seonghwa is your beloved husband?”
“Anything. I might be his wife, but you’re my savior, Yunho,” you sighed lovingly as a delightful shiver shot down your spine, not a single doubt present within your meticulously molded mind. Your ideas of the world, your life, its purpose — your saving grace had always been Yunho. How could he not be? Considering he built you himself, with great precision and care. You were the intricate tapestry he painstakingly sewed together year by year, each painful jab of his silver needle acting as a reminder of his divine love for you.
“Say my name again,” Yunho exhaled, his lips ghosting along your abdomen to your navel, unable to keep himself from tonguing it for his own pleasure, his talons leaving red streaks along your skin.
“Yunho,” you repeated, watching as the older man settled in between your thighs, his lips and tongue already exploring your slick entrance, gasping at the sensation of him lapping up his own release once it dribbled out of you.
“Again,” he commanded, his sharp eyes boring into yours from below, pinching your clit in between his teeth, his talons digging into your thighs.
“Yunho..!” You looked down at him with such sincerity, it had the potential to touch Yunho’s corrupted heart, your fingers sifting through his sweat-soaked raven locks, tugging on it once he filled you with his long tongue. You were growing feverish, losing sight of why you were there in the first place. “Don’t stop, Savior…Need more...”
Yunho dragged his tongue over the entirety of your cunt, blowing on it just to make you shudder. “Is that what you tell your husband when you want his cock? What else do you tell him?”
You chewed on your bottom lip, feeling your cunt pulse. “Am I selfish for wanting more of your love? Am I a sinner for wanting you to fill me? I’ll go to hell a thousand times if it means I can have my savior’s love inside me once more...”
The seasoned cult leader’s long-lasting poison was far stronger, far more potent than your sincerities, especially when he administered it to his favorite prey in the most pleasurable, most effective way — with his sweet, saccharine lies that poured out like honey past his shiny, pointed teeth and rough, curled tongue that continued its ministrations on your puffy, used cunt. “Oh, please don’t say things like that, angel. You’ll ruin me for everyone else.”
In reality, you were the one he was ruining, corrupting, defiling — and all in the name of God. It made the cult leader so stiff, he could hardly keep his composure.
You whined softly, shuddering underneath his touch, your hand forming a fist, gripping Yunho’s hair tighter and tighter, the longer he licked at your slit and sucked on your clit like a starved man. “Yunho, please…I won’t last much longer….”
“Would that be such a sin, angel? If you released onto my tongue?” Yunho asked in between lingering licks, his tongue hot and heavy against your leaking cunt, using two fingers to keep your fluttering hole on display for his viewing pleasure, his silver talons gently pressing into your soft flesh. He wondered if he should continue admiring the mess of cum he painted your walls with, or use his saliva-streaked tongue and lips to slurp it out of you, his free hand attempting to milk his slick, throbbing cock. Decisions, decisions.
Yunho wouldn’t have the time to make one, because just then, the cult leader’s most trusted confidant, Song Mingi, knocked on the door and entered without being granted permission, very aware of the privileges he had as a respected elder. The white-haired man saw the nude, disheveled state you were in, your white ceremonial garments laying in a pile on the floor, the love-struck look in your teary, doe eyes, your trembling, marked-up legs still obediently spread open wide for your savior, knowing you’d let Yunho fill and abuse your poor cunt until he saw fit.
“Elder Song, are you going to continue standing there drooling like a dog or are you going to come here?” Yunho asked gruffly, rubbing the pad of his thumb relentlessly into your clit, all while he glowered at the younger man over his shoulder.
Mingi quickly strided over to his leader’s side, sinking to his knees, looking up at him with his apologetic, round eyes. “I…have news, sir. It is of great importance.”
Yunho shook his head slightly, letting out a small chuckle. “The news can wait, Mingi,” the cult leader began softly, reaching over to caress the other man’s cheek, making sure the younger man’s gaze was fixed solely on him. “Can I ask you for something?”
Mingi nodded intently, his lips parted, taking short breaths, as if he was waiting with great anticipation. “Anything, Savior. What do you need from me?”
It was then that Yunho brought the tip of his reddened cock to Mingi’s mouth, drops of pre-cum getting onto his plump, parted lips, his once softened gaze contorting into one of pure perversion. “Can you be a good boy and open up? Hm, princess?”
Mingi closed his eyes, as an attempt to hide the way they rolled underneath his eyelids and the influx of arousal that had spread throughout his body like a virus, his sudden heavy breathing and flushed cheeks betraying him. “Yes, savior,” he moaned out, just as Yunho’s stiff cock filled up his drooling mouth, trying his best not to choke as he repeatedly took it down his tight throat.
Yunho tossed his head back, a few drops of sweat sliding along his straining jaw and staining the bed below, gripping the back of Mingi’s head to make sure he didn’t stop worshiping his cock. “That’s it, princess. You’re taking it so well.”
Mingi groaned wantonly, beginning to grind his own leaking cock against the side of the bed, not even caring that his knees began to ache from being pressed into the hardwood floor below. He found himself gazing down at you, his body on fire from being watched by his savior’s favorite angel, beginning to gag around Yunho’s thick length once he began ramming it down his throat with abandon.
When you let out a small whine from witnessing such a visceral display of power and submission taking place right in front of you, Yunho reminded you with shaky words, “Don’t worry, my angel, this is all for you. Mingi here is going to transfer my love to you once I…Oh, God–”
Mingi’s gaze returned to his savior above, a few tears slipping down his flushed cheeks, his jaw aching from the way Yunho bottomed out completely inside his bulging throat, only to find his oxygen supply suddenly being cut off when the older man pinched his nose.
“You trust me, don’t you, princess?” Yunho asked in an eerily calm tone, not bothering to hide his sadistic tendencies in that moment, throbbing inside the young man’s throat upon seeing his small nods and hearing the tiny, breathless squeaks he made. It was then that he held Mingi completely still until his face began to grow red.
Just when he thought he might pass out, his vision sporting a fuzziness around the edges that reminded him of the television set Yunho had put inside the community room, his throat had finally become unblocked. As he gasped for air, he watched Yunho’s eyes roll into his skull, hot, white ropes of cum splattering onto Mingi’s lolled-out tongue. Before he could swallow, Yunho grabbed his chin and guided him in between your legs.
“Impregnate her, princess. For me,” Yunho whispered into Mingi’s ear, his digits forming a V against your pulsing cunt, spreading you open for Elder Song.
Not letting a drop go to waste, Mingi pursed his lips and sent a wad of cum directly into you, before shoving his tongue in as deep as it would go. He fucked the warm milkiness into you, with sloppy desperation, like the demon dog he was. He looked up to you for approval, which you gave, through your cries of pleasure and your fingers suddenly tugging at his snow white hair. He didn’t even realize he had lost his own composure, until he was whining and whimpering against your slick cunt, soiling his once pristine garments with his sticky load.
Once Yunho watched Mingi pull his tongue out, a few strands of milky saliva connecting his plump lips to your cunt, the cult leader tapped your puffy pussy. “Good boy. Can you fill her up with those thick fingers of yours now?”
Mingi huffed and puffed, trying to catch his breath, his pupils blown wide when he looked to Yunho for guidance. “Two? Three? How many, sir?”
“As many as you need to make sure my seed reaches her womb,” Yunho reassured in a gravelly voice, watching as Mingi hovered over you, drops of saliva falling from his open mouth and onto your pleasured face, easily slipping in three fingers up to his knuckles.
Yunho leisurely flicked, squeezed, and rolled your puffy clit, admiring Mingi’s relentless pursuit in finger-fucking you into a state of pure ecstasy, throbbing at the sight of his precious loads dripping down along the other man’s straining wrist and along his veined forearm. “Very good, princess. She’ll be nice and round soon, thanks to your support. Your hard work won’t go unnoticed.”
Mingi bit down into his bottom lip, a few groans slipping out, despite his effort to conceal just how much his leader’s praise affected him. “Thank you, Savior. Now, I’ll make your angel cry out to the Lord,” he began breathily, locking eyes with Yunho for a moment, their digits working in tandem to send you over the edge, their focus returning to you. “Let it be done.”
“Amen,” Yunho sighed, bringing his precious rosary up to his mouth to kiss, the metal cold against his warm lips.
When you began to writhe around, your focus shifting to the various crosses that were nailed to the wall, your forceful release causing your bruised body to seize up, the cult leader suddenly grabbed your chin with his talons, the tips of them stabbing into your skin, drawing blood, making you whimper. His crazed eyes bored into your barely open ones, looking as if he was about to come undone himself, despite not touching himself. “You see it, don’t you, Y/N? Heaven? Isn’t it beautiful?”
It was all too much. The pain. The pleasure. Elder Song watching closely as your squirt soaked his tan skin and the mattress underneath your jolting body, a demonic smile painting his sharp, seraphic face. Your savior clutching you so tight that you bled, his seed blossoming within your womb. It was then that you fell unconscious, your body falling limp against the feather-filled quilt.
Yunho ran his jewelry-adorned fingers along your jaw, letting them graze your neck, down to the cross necklace that laid against your chest. “What did you need to tell me, Mingi?”
Mingi pushed his sweaty bangs back, taking in a deep breath and letting it out, trying to find his composure. “We have two new visitors. They mentioned Y/N by name, and claimed that they grew up in the same orphanage as her. They were hoping to find her here, so that they could…”
Yunho turned his head to glare at Mingi, his gaze alone making Mingi cower. “They want to take her away from me, don’t they? From us? From God?”
Mingi began to scratch at his neck, leaving red streaks behind. “They believe that they can provide her with a better life.”
“And what life could be better than one of enlightenment? Of purity? What could those heathens possibly offer my Y/N that I can’t?” Yunho suddenly erupted, his anger being directed towards Mingi, who lowered his head down, staring at the cross that hung past his chest.
Yunho’s face twitched slightly, his once rage-filled expression dissipating as soon as it had surfaced, as if it had never been there in the first place. It was a simple trick of the light. He placed his hand on Mingi’s shoulder, squeezing it gently, until the unusually timid man found the courage to meet his gaze. “Mingi.”
“Sir?”
Yunho hummed to himself, catching onto the way your breath hitched, as if you had suddenly held it, his honey brown eyes gleaming with pride, and something else, something indistinguishable. “Offer them a room and dinner, oh, and invite our guests to the annual communion on Sunday.”
“Right away, sir,” Mingi replied, getting up from the bed and exiting the room. He pressed his back into the mahogany door and shut his eyes, carefully sliding his fingers into his drooling mouth to savor the taste of his savior’s seed and his angel’s release.
Once he was alone with you, Yunho reached down to brush a few strands of hair out of your eyes, smiling knowingly at the sight of them opening. “How much did you hear, sweet girl?”
“Enough,” you whispered carefully, as if you were testing him. You might have been the flower inside his clutches, but you still had thorns.
Yunho began to chuckle softly, before it grew louder and louder, his pleased laughter ringing out through the halls.
One of your threads was beginning to come undone. Nothing a little stitching couldn’t fix.
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◞ SAY IT BACK.
꒰ you and satoru have a situationship. the situation being that he feels lonely and you don’t want him to. ꒱
ᴍᴅɴɪ. 3.2k. f!reader. no curses au. big fluff. angsty lore. exes to friends to fake lovers to maybe lovers? mentions of past satoru doing drugs but not anymore. reader's good-natured. reposted from my old account. sfw.
gojo satoru knows better than anyone that there’s nothing worse than destroying your life in a blind rage and being left to stare at and clean up the ruin.
have you ever been so guilty that you’re undeserving of even being apologetic? so shameful that even ‘i’m sorry’ is undoubtedly an insult to the person you harmed?
even though you dated for four years and you both suffered through one of the messiest breakups you’ll likely ever experience, he knows you’ll always love and care for him. you’ll always worry for him. you’ll always be there when no one else can or wants to be. you’ll always be his friend. someone who regards him with fondness.
watching how unconditionally you’ll love him but knowing how deeply undeserving he is of it eats him alive at times.
as it stands, you singlehandedly and regularly wreak havoc on his loneliness; you keep forcing all his fear into hiding.
if anyone who knows the truth about your situation asks, you’ll probably say you don’t want him that way anymore, not after all he’s done, but he knows one thing most certainly about the situation you’re both in: you, above any event or perilous and turbulent history you both have resting in the cracks of your foundation, never want him to feel lonely.
you say that must be what pushed him to all his vices, his one-and-a-half-year cycle of seemingly endless mistakes: feeling a loss of control and inescapable loneliness.
you felt responsible for so long because you left and went to a completely different university so far away from him, but he knows it wasn’t that at all. it was loneliness, sure, but he just got caught up with the wrong crowd. at the time, the two of you were having such a hard time in your relationship. it felt like he was always disappointing you and everyone else. he had no one to turn to. so he let his ‘friends’ talk him into finding companionship in thin, white lines and leading a double life.
everything slowly got worse. you said you didn’t know him anymore. he lost so much weight. he dropped out of university without telling anyone. he lost his home. little by little, his life fell into shambles. you left him after finding him completely out of his mind at a party when his mom called and told you all that had been occurring, all that he had been lying very blatantly to you and all of them about.
the night you came for him, he let you take him.
you were the only one he would let take him away from it all: from the drugs, from the drinking, from the partying. when you showed up and saw him finish a line off the table, you cried when you held out your hand to him and told him, “come on, baby. it’s time to go, okay?” he left with you without hesitation and he apologized so many times, but you wouldn’t hear him out. he got so angry, he just started screaming at you and beating his fists into the dashboard so hard you feared his airbag would accidentally deploy. you left him that night. for good.
he was drunk. he was high. you were talking about being done. you were talking about ripping his heart out of his chest. you were talking about four years down the drain.
when the haze of his own budding addiction finally passed, he knew that it was he who had thrown everything away because he couldn’t handle the shift in his life from high school to adulthood. satoru recalls being the big man on campus in high school, but everyone started moving on and moving out once it was over. everyone but him. and it was hard.
it was hard watching himself amount to nothing, to not have a future.
he went from being the one everyone had high hopes for to the one everyone wished would grow up and make something of himself.
he met you shortly after graduating high school while working at a restaurant. you and a group of your friends had come in to celebrate your acceptance to your dream school. the moment he saw you, he knew it would be you. he knew it would only ever be you. he knew that your love would be the thing that fuelled him, and for a while it was, but even you grew past him.
satoru was so in love with you, but he was so fucking jealous of you and all that you were. you tried hard to help him become more, but he accepted the fate of his perpetual pity party.
growing up is hard.
losing the girl you love after four years of making a life together because you started lying and stealing and getting caught up with awful people is hard.
but at the end of all the ruin that became of his entire life, he’s grateful that the two of you can still be great friends over time, best friends even. he never stops being sorry for what he did to you, how he left you while claiming to still be by your side. that entire last year and a half of the relationship, he was mentally gone. he had broken up with you in theory, just not in practice.
his hesitance was a result of his unwillingness. satoru never wanted to leave you; he just knew that it would be for the best.
in his mind, there was no future with him. he wasn’t the kind of guy who could give you this overwhelmingly lavish life. at the time, if you would have settled with him, you’d have been settling for a small-town life of mundane experiences and limited growth, because everyone else seemed to be able to fully fly the coop but him.
he was too stagnant for you back then.
but you’re still here and he loves you so much for staying even after leaving. you’ve done so much for him to help him, to believe in him. you even did something utterly outlandish for him: agreed to tell his parents the two of you were back together so his mom would feel better about his recovery and stop hovering. she didn’t trust him on his own anymore, but she trusted you. his parents were willing to give him space as long as they believed you were by his side, in both name and proximity.
and although it wasn’t true at all, you still agreed because you said you could see he was doing his best. you could see he was serious about changing and improving. you believed in him and his recovery. you agreed their overbearing ways would hinder him, and you helped him.
so, he made every excuse to drag you to his parent’s house once every two weeks at least. at first, he said it’s just him trying to ‘regularly check in so they see he’s doing fine’, but you both know the truth of it.
it isn’t only because his mother is always thrilled to see you and feels much better about him living an hour away if you’re involved, but also because when you guys are there, you are his girlfriend.
you don’t shy from his affection.
as much as he wants to kiss you, you let him, and you kiss back.
you cradle his face in your palms and give him adoring pecks, smiling at him just like you used to. you still kiss him and lick your lips right after as if to get any taste that may have been left behind.
satoru drags you onto his parent’s porch to sit on their front swing just to indulge in a brief moment of unconditional intimacy with you. he keeps you close to his chest, close to his heart where he’s still most certain you belong.
any day you’re going to see his parents, from the moment the day starts until the next morning, you’re his girl again.
once in a while, he gets to pretend.
once in a while, he can grip your waist and bite your lower lip.
once in a while, he gets to take his lemons and make lemonade, something refreshing, something doused in sweetness to mask the excessiveness of sourness.
those days always make him wonder if that’s what you still want with him but all the history holds you back. it’s different now, though. he thinks you can see it, too.
so now, as he stares at his ceiling trying to bear the heaviness in his chest, the weight of how alone he feels, his fingers reflexively tap your name in his call logs. the second the feeling starts to ebb within him, right when the sorrow starts to empty him of all his hope, he always just calls you. you always answer by the second ring.
you’re a creature of habit, after all.
“bear,” you greet him enthusiastically.
his heart nosedives into a pit of putty. it’s been ten days since the last time either of you spoke to each other. satoru doesn’t bother texting you. he knows it’ll take you ages to reply. you have this awful habit of reading your messages in the notification bar and responding mentally while not actually disengaging from your active task to type out the response, or you’ll type out a response and get distracted before actually hitting send.
sometimes you initiate conversations with him and after your second response, it’s radio silence. a week later, you’ll go to check on him and finally hit send on the message you typed out a week ago.
he doesn’t bother with it anymore.
you’re his busy little bee. that’s what he always calls you because you buzz around, do work, and gather knick-knacks to add to your collection. you’re never in the same place. if he calls you and you’re at home, by the time you’re minutes into the call, you’ve decided to go to a craft store.
“hey, bee.” he responds softly, but his voice is chockful of despondency. you notice instantly. you always do. even if he bothers attempting to hide it, you’ll know. “where are you right now?”
“at home, why?” you ask casually at first and then you pause for a moment. “are you okay?”
the three little words he hates the most. the ones he no longer wants to hear. the prying little question with hidden meanings and underlying presumptions. a simple inquiry that fills everyone with anxiety, himself included.
his mistakes are the kinds that linger in everyone who thought to love him’s mind.
he’ll never escape what he’s done. all of his displays of fragility and humanity will be met with gentle suspicion before embracing.
it’s fine. he knows he deserves it. it’s all just so fucking exhausting, exasperating; it’s all so bleak and ill-omened. at times, he feels like even though he’s recovering, he’ll never really recover.
he’ll never recover from the sheer mass of the aftermath, from the vividness of awareness of what his choices have done to everyone else.
i’m so tired of being asked but i’m so thankful you’re still willing to.
the truth is he’s not okay. not at all.
today, he’s obsessively ruminating over all the wrongs he can’t seem to right, all the rights that don’t hold any weight when held up to them all.
he’s not okay.
today, all the consequences of his actions are settling into his chest, making a home out of his hope and leaving it in ruins.
today, the weight of your absence is taking a wrecking ball to his resolve.
but the last thing he wants to do is make you worry about his emotional state because then you’ll start to wonder about what he’s doing to cope with it. then you’ll hover and your presence will start to become an unfortunate burden he bears for the sake of keeping you.
he’s only recently been able to re-establish trust with you. he doesn’t want it to waiver because of useless worrying.
“yeah,” he breathes. “i’m just…alone tonight and thoughts are spiraling a little bit? just a little. i don’t know. i miss you a lot right now. more than usual and it’s already a lot.”
satoru is the furthest from shy about the lingering intensity of his love for you. and he can attempt to move on, but he chooses not to.
꒰ the question remains if his continued effort to choose you is a product of his guilt or his genuine yearning. ꒱
he knows it as this: he wants to love you for as long as he’s capable of doing so, even if it’s unrequited, even if you never truly see him the way you once did.
he’ll choose to love you anyway; it’s the absolute least he can do, even if he gets nothing out of it. but when he thinks about it thoroughly enough, he knows good and well that isn’t the case. there’s plenty he’s receiving from this dynamic; it’s just not exactly what he wants.
those are called consequences.
you sigh on the other side of the phone. “missing you, too. are you going to drag me to a family dinner soon? i also miss your parents.”
satoru knows you’ll never blatantly reject him but you can never fully accept him either. it does not deter him from his endeavor to reclaim you despite it.
“yes, and with glee.” he responds without a lick of hesitation. “that’s the only time i can kiss you. you know i’ll never pass up the opportunity to kiss my favorite lips.”
he hears you stifling your giggle and the feathery sound falls into his ears like an answered prayer. now, he feels hope again. he indulges in it, but he’s fully aware that it’ll be short-lived.
when it comes to you, he would rather drown in a sea of delusion, a river of denial, before fully accepting that he’s unlikely to ever make his way back into the center of your heart or into the depths of your affection.
“you’re taking advantage of my kindness for personal gain, tsk.” you click your tongue at him but your tone is teasing.
it’s not that. it’s just that i’ll probably love you forever.
“never, baby.” he promises. a small beat passes by before he continues. “i love the fuck out of you. with all my heart, bee. you know that.”
you suck in an audibly sharp breath. “you’re too bold, gojo.”
“say it back, bee.” his voice is low, the small plea just a smidgen above a whisper.
he knows he shouldn’t ask, knows he doesn’t even have the right, only the audacity, but he also knows that every time he gets you alone, he’s going to try to weasel his way back in any way.
“you know how i feel.”
it’s a small, resolute blurb of truth.
he does know how you feel. you love him; perhaps not in the same way as you once did, but you love him in your own, unorthodox way. otherwise, why else would you agree to a false continuation of four years you both spent in love, of four years that went up in flames and ended in catastrophic devastation?
“i do know. say it anyway.” his desperation is showing again. “just give me something. anything.”
“you know what you will and won’t hear from me.”
and you know what i will and won’t give up on.
he smiles, fully prepared to goad you with the sweetest of reminders. he wants you to remember who he was to you, who he’s still equipped to be.
“you still love your bear.” he murmurs, feeling all of his infatuation and fondness singing again. “he’s still here waiting on you.”
what follows is the stammer of a girl who’s been ambushed, caught in flagrante delicto. “w-well…you need to stop waiting. you’re only going to hurt your own feelings.”
i’m not just waiting. i’m loving, too. overflowing sometimes. i feel my heart buried in guilt. i just want to say sorry and it be alright that i mean it.
“c’mon, baby. say it back.” his tenderness is showing again. “us being together makes my parents happy anyway.”
in the background, satoru hears a continuous white noise and he snickers then. he’s all too familiar with the sound of you driving. he wonders when you muted the phone just to close your car door. as if that would keep him from knowing.
“where’s my bee going?” he asks with loving intonation.
“out,” you reply, a soft curtness in your voice. “when are you going to see your parents this week?”
satoru scoffs, a tiny pang in his chest reminding him that he’s only earned being wounded. “don’t you dare try to change the subject. you weren’t even subtle about it.”
there must be lead in your sigh with the heaviness it carries as it falls. “have you thought about telling them the truth about us? or even just that we’re not together?”
“why the fuck would i do that?” satoru asks incredulously.
“eventually you’ll have to tell them, satoru. we can’t keep pretending. it’s…emboldening you.”
i’m not emboldened. i’m not pretending. i’ll love you until the day i die.
“so…let’s stop pretending.” he begs in a desperate whine. “let’s try again. baby, i promise i’m not…i’m not doing the same things that ruined us before. i’m ready.”
you go silent and satoru suddenly understands the meaning of a pregnant pause.
after a moment, a soft sniffle and a quiet murmur. “bear,”
i can feel you aching to dip your toes. i see you dancing along the cusps of caving.
“i love when you call me that, bee.” right now, all he has is the gentleness he’s been shaping up and polishing for you in his spare time. “i miss you. i miss us so much. miss you being mine. miss waking up to you. miss being able to love you.”
“no, satoru.” you protest, frustration apparent but he doesn’t care. he’s posing the question; he needs an answer. he’s pouring his heart into you; he needs you to keep it. “we. can’t. do this.”
now, his impatience is showing. “why? because you know you feel it, too? you’re still my bee. i’m still your bear. i’m getting my shit together. i’m trying. i want to keep trying. with you.”
there it is again, your god-awful silence. please tell me there’s even a centimeter’s worth in the length of your willingness. that’s all i need to wedge myself back in.
his chest rises and falls, lungs expanding and restricting with haste, suddenly overcome with a sense of alarm. he’s scared right now. he shouldn’t be going for it, but he is. he shouldn’t go thinking he’s worthy of you, but he wants to be.
“satoru,” you call.
the panicked tone of a hopeful man. “yes, bee?”
“you’re insane today, spouting off all kinds of nonsense.” you release a soft sigh. “but…i’m on my way over. let’s watch a movie or something? it seems like you feel alone.”
i do.
“i hate when you feel alone.”
i know.
it may sound like it’s a burden on you, but he knows it’s just frustration, love, and compassion.
“it’s not nonsense.” he tells you very quietly. “but i’ll leave the door unlocked for you. you know i hate when you talk and drive so let’s hang up here, yeah?”
“yeah,” you breathe, and his heart aches at that warmth in your agreement.
“see you soon.” and of course, his relentless declaration follows. “i love you.”
“you’re not going to stop, god.” a tortured groan followed by an abysmal sigh. “ditto.”
it’s something, so it’s everything.
© 2024 neptuneblue. all rights reserved.
#꒰ 𝐧𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐞 ꒱#jjk#gojo satoru#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#jjk x you#satoru gojo#gojou satoru x reader#gojo fluff#gojo saturo#gojo x you#jujutsu kaisen fluff#jujutsu gojo#gojo x y/n#jujutsu kaisen x you#gojo satoru x you#gojo satoru x y/n#jjk fluff#satoru fluff#gojo fanfic
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Tutor (fem)
Loser!König x Bully!Reader
MDNI🔞
Master List
>cw: fem/afab, bully, oral, p in v, virginity loss
2.3k word count
📖
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König is a loser. He’s a 23-year-old virgin college student who is too scared to talk to women. He would much rather stay home and build Gundam’s, play video games, or work on his schoolwork. In public, he is quiet and timid. He tries to blend in to not be seen. Being a whole 6 '10, he can’t. As a child, he was constantly bullied for his size and being chubby. As an adult, he still gets picked on for being tall and awkward.
You are a part of the problem. A short, curvy, big-breasted bitch; the apple of his eye. König sits in the back of class and watches your hips sway as you walk to your seat. The way your breasts bounce like hentai boobies. His cock grows hard as you bend over, making your cleavage more visible to him. Just as he got lost in a trance, you snap him out of it.
“What are you looking at? Freak!”
Your hands on your hips, a disgusted look on your face. König’s face turns red as he realizes that you’ve caught him in the act. You flip him off and turn to sit. He reaches down to adjust his boner, taking a deep breath and letting out a small sigh.
After class, as everyone stands to pack their bags, he stays seated, looking at his cell phone. He has your Instagram profile opened on his phone, gazing at a bikini picture you posted this summer. You look absolutely perfect in your tiny pink bikini. He has become so lost in your photos; he didn’t realize you were walking past him to leave.
“What the fuck?” A loud laugh breaks out.
König looks up to see that you caught him looking at your profile. He turns off the screen of his phone and clears his throat. Inside his chest, his heart pounds so hard it feels like it’s going to explode from embracement.
“Sorry.” His voice is meek as he avoids eye contact with you.
“Fucking loser.” You scoff while walking away.
This was going to be a long year.
Three months into the school year, you haven’t turned in one assignment yet and have failed the few tests you’ve had. The dean sent you a message telling you that if you don’t raise your grades, you would be at risk of being put on academic probation. You needed a tutor, and fast.
König sits in his dorm room at his desk, working on building Lego set #21348, when he hears a knock at his door. He looks over his shoulder at his door, trying to decide if he wants to deal with people. After a few seconds, he stands to answer the door.
Once he opens the door, his eyes grow wide seeing you standing there. “Oh, h-hey y/n.”
“Hey König.” You smile up at him and push him aside, walking into his room. His room is simple and neat. Robot figures anywhere he can place them and a Lego set on his desk. You walk over and look at the set, König walking up behind you.
“So, what is this? Star Wars?”
König tilts his head confused about how wrong you are. Do you even know what Star Wars is? “Uh, no. Star Wars is a space themed futuristic story…” He could see the lack of interest on your face. “So, why are you here?”
“Geez, you’re a bigger fucking nerd than I thought you were.” You say pushing over a mini figure he has posed on the desk. His mouth hangs open, stopping himself from asking you to not do that. He watches as you turn and take a seat on his desk chair.
You look up at König as he towers over you. “You’re smart, right?”
“I guess.” König rubs the back of his neck feeling bashful.
“Well, I’m failing math, and I need a tutor. The issue is… well, I can’t afford one. So I was wondering if you could tutor me.”
This isn’t what he was expecting, well more of not what he hoped for. “I don’t have time to tutor. Sorry.”
Your smile drops and you stand up. “Too busy? You’re always in here building stupid fucking Legos or robot’s models.”
“Technically Gundam’s are mechs, not robots like a transformer.”
“Wow. Okay.” You sound annoyed and uninterested. “So, are you going to help me or not?”
“I already said I can’t.” His voice gets even more timid.
You’re not use to people saying no to you, especially not pathetic men who worship the ground you walk on. In fact, you hate being told no. How fucking dare he.
“So, you can sit and fucking gawk at me, stalk my social media accounts, but you can’t help me for a few fucking hours?” You push his muscular chest.
He stumbles backwards, actually intimidated by you. Speechless, he doesn’t know what to say. His eyes drop to your breasts as you keep walking to him. Not one thought in his mind other than how hot you look at this exact moment.
“I- I uh, I.”
“What? You forgot how to talk?” You push him once more and he falls back on to his bed. As soon as he does, your eyes drift down to the tent growing in his pants and you laugh. König’s eyes go wide as your hand reaches out, grasping his boner through his sweats; his face burning hot. He looks up at you in a daze.
“Oh, wow. Loser actually has a fat cock.” Your other hand grabs his jaw and forces him to look into your eyes. You lean in and lick from his lips to his nose before moving back and letting go of him.
König’s heart is fluttering in his chest, this feels like a dream. His eyes watch like a hungry dog as you pull your tight fitted shirt, unhooking your bra and tossing it aside. Your hands unbutton your jeans and expose a thin thong that barely covers your fat pussy lips.
“Why are you still dressed?” Your voice shocks him out of his daze.
Quickly, he pulls his shirt off. A ripped muscular body is not what you expected him to have under his baggy clothing. He drops his sweat pants along with his boxers allowing his cock to spring free. König, now nude, stands in front of you frozen. His gaze lingering on your pussy. You’re the first woman he’s seen naked in person.
“Do you have condoms?”
He looks at his bedside table, even though he is well aware he has none. “Um, no. I don’t.”
“I knew you were probably a virgin.” He blushes and looks down when you say this. You walk closer to him. “Are you?”
“Ja, I am.”
“No fucking wonder. Lay down.” You demand in a strict tone.
König jumps like a drill sergeant to yell at him. He quickly gets on his bed and looks at you. His cock twitching with excitement. You climb onto the bed with him, straddling his massive body. His hands instinctively rest on your thighs as you lean in and kiss his lips.
“How about I teach you—” You kiss him in between talking. “How to fuck—” His fingers squeeze your thighs. “And you tutor me?”
Without thinking, König nods his head enthusiastically.
“Good. We will start with math.” You giggle, reaching your hand behind his head to pull the pillows away from behind him.
König looks confused by your comment. Math? Then his eyes go wide as you straddle his face. Your twat lingers above him. He gazes up as if you’ve just shown him God. If he could take your scent and make air fresheners, he would. His cock is upright, erect, waiting to taste you.
“Stick your tongue out, big boy.” You lean forward and place your hands on his chest. One hand reaches forward and jerks his cock.
König sticks his tongue out eagerly, watching your body as you lower yourself onto his face. Your pussy rests on his mouth and nose, hips rocking back and forth on his tongue. His eyes flutter closed as he tastes pussy for the first time. How could he have lived this long without tasting this sweet nectar?
His fingers dig into your thighs as he pulls you down closer to his face. His tongue rapidly laps at your cunt, slurping and drinking your wetness. You moan, eyes closing as you continue to grind; he’s surprisingly skilled.
“You want me to suck your cock?”
“Ja, bitte.” He groans, his sound muffled from you sitting on his face.
Leaning forward, you pull his foreskin down and wrap your lips around the tip of his cock. He lets out a moan, his toes curling. Your hands move in motion with your head as you bob your head up and down on his cock. König moans into your sopping wet cunt. He’s in heaven.
König’s hips thrust forward to match your rhythm. One of his hands moves from your thigh up your body to squeeze your breast before roaming back down. When you pull your mouth away from his cock, he thrust forward even more, craving your friction. You lift yourself up off of him, his hands hold on to your thighs tighter as if trying to keep you on him. Reluctantly, he lets you go; swiping his tongue between your folds once more as you stand.
You move your body to the side of him. He watches you as he licks his lips, trying to savor the taste of you. The heat of your pussy radiates over your cock.
“You’re buying me a Plan B right after this.”
“I will.” His eyes are glued to yours.
Slowly you rock your hips over his cock before grasping it at the base. You look into his eyes as you lower yourself on him.
König’s mouth drops open and he lets out a loud groan. His eyes glued to your tight cunt stretching around his cock. He grabs at the blanket underneath him, squeezing it to the point his knuckles are turning white. He can’t last long in your pussy.
“Mein Gott, you- your pussy—” He can’t form a coherent sentence.
His hands reach out for your breasts as you bounce on him. You have the most incredible pair of tits he has ever seen. He’s always known you were hot, but seeing you like this, not even Aphrodite couldn't compare.
You slap away his hand and lean forward. “Grab my ass and fuck me.”
König nods, having seen this in porn before, he knows what to do. He thinks. His large hands grasp your fat ass and squeeze his fingers into the supple flesh; bending his legs at the knee, he begins to thrust up into you.
As he tries his hardest to not cum, his thrust is slow. He looks at the ceiling as his mind is running 110mph. You grab his jaw again, forcing him to look at you.
“Fuck me. Harder.” You demand of him.
“I don’t…want to hurt you.” He struggles to speak, looking up at you through half-lidded eyes.
“If you don’t fuck me hard, we are done here.”
König would not let his crush on the last two semesters just walk away, especially not since he got you to this part. Guys like him don’t get women like you. He grabs you and rolls you over on to the bed, slamming you down a little harder than he meant to. The look on your face tells him you didn’t mind one bit.
He grabs your hips and pulls you to him, slipping his cock back inside of your tight little cunny. You moan out as your hands grab his arms. König doesn’t hold back as he restricts your movements underneath him using his massive size. He pulls his hips back far before slamming down into you. His enormous cock being rammed deep inside of you, deeper than you can take.
“Oh, fuck! Like that you fucking freak!” You moan out.
König lets out a small growl as he ravishes your body, ruining your cunt for any other man. His mouth clashes into yours, desperate for your kiss. A trail of his hot wet kisses leaving from your mouth down to your breasts. He bites the skin around your areola, marking you as his for your stupid fuck buddy to see.
You push him back. “Rub my clit.” You reach for his hand and guide it so he knows where to touch. “Do small circles.”
He nods and begins to rub slowly at first until you yell at him to go faster. König lets out a surprised moan as he feels you tightening around him. Is this what a female orgasm is? Fuck yes! His hips faster, his rhythm slightly off as he tries to also focus on your clit.
“Don’t stop.” König watches in amazement as you arch your back and tremble. Your pussy becomes so wet it's splashing as he rubs it. He feels on top of the world.
Instantly, a loud pitched moan leaves his throat. A stupid smile crosses his face as he eyes go slightly crossed. He cums deep inside of your pussy. As his body naturally falls forward you push him off to the side.
König lays on his back, on cloud nine. His pale eyes study your face and your body as you lay beside him.
“So,” your breathing is still heavy, “I’ll come by tomorrow and we can start working on my tutoring.”
He nods, willing to give you anything you ask for at this point. Mentally, he is not over the fact he just ate and fucked y/n, you, your pussy.
You stand from the bed and begin to get dressed. Your cunt hurts, König fucks like a mating bull. He’s a good fuck though, there is not denying that.
“Oh, and if you tell anyone, you’re dead.”
“I understand.” König watches you as you get dressed with hearts in his eyes. “What are we?”
You stop and look at him for a moment before letting out a small laugh and shaking your head.
#konig#konig x reader#könig#konig cod#könig x reader#konig x y/n#konig smut#könig smut#könig cod#könig mw2#cod smut#konig x reader smut#könig x y/n#könig x you#konig x you#smut#cod konig#könig call of duty
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i dont know if you do driver x driver x reader, if you do then maybe oscar x logan x reader? if you dont then just logan x reader is good. i dont really have a good idea for smut but if youre up for it there could be some oral sex, choking, possessiveness, and degradation? ima gonna be honest its been a hot minute since ive read your smut so id theres something in my request youre not comfortable with, my apologies!
Logan Sargeant X Reader X Oscar Piastri
cw... anal, double penetration, not edited, cumshot, kissing with cum, hair pulling, slight dom, slight hinting to the two of them being into each other, gagging, blow job, oral, jealousy, timeskip, plot and porn, etc...
notepad... HIYA! Second post of the day. Honestly speaking I enjoyed this. But i probably could have spent more time on it. Either way I had fun.
There were only a few things Logan Sargeant had that Oscar Piastri didn’t. He hated to admit it, but it was true that Oscar was the better rookie and the better driver. He had things that Logan didn't, but he had one thing—the only thing Oscar couldn’t have and wanted more than anything. He had you. You were his trophy, the girl the two of them fought for in the Perma days. There was no hate between the two of them, still being the closest of friends, but Oscar could never help but be filled with jealousy each time he saw you with Logan. He was the better match for you, yet you chose Logan.
It was the Miami Grand Prix; you were there supporting Logan after a disappointing week. Oscar certainly had a bad week, but compared to Logan, it was a hundred times better. He couldn’t help looking at you talking to Logan, walking hand in hand. He wanted what Logan had; it was selfish; you were happy; his friend was happy; he knew it was wrong.
“Hey Oscar!” He heard Logan's voice call him out, it stunned him. He looked up, seeing him walk up with you. You waved to him, clearly unaware of his feelings.
“Oscar, you look great; how long has it been?” You asked, letting go of Logan's hand, hugging the tall man. Leaving him confused for a moment, he slowly raised his arms to hug you back. It had been sometimes since he felt your touch that all the feelings he felt became stronger than ever.
“Likewise, are you two still together?” He asked if it was true that you were never in the media and were also never posted about. You nodded. Logan grabbed her hand and pulled her away.
“Stronger than ever. Oscar, do you want to join us for dinner at my place? Like before, this time at my own home.” Logan asked him rather quickly. Oscar was unsure of how to respond. After spending an entire night with you and Logann being in love, It sounded like hell, yet he missed you, the sound of your laughs, or the way you talked. It was a tough decision; it felt like hours passed while the two waited for his answer.
“Like old times.”
“Ah~” You mumbled your head back, your legs being pushed while Logan’s mouth sucked at your clit. How did Oscar get here? Watching his friend eat out the girl he wanted. He could have left, but he stayed. Your moans sound so sweet, like honey to him. He watched Logan suck your clit almost as if he were making out with your pussy. You were clearly close to orgasming, your words becoming less coherent. He heard the low voice of Logan.
“You’re our guest, Oscar; I know you want to.” Logan stood up, looking at him with your juices on his lips. Logan knew him too well. Oscar walked over to you and him. Logan sighed, seeing your panting face cumming just by his mouth. “You are my friend, but do know I am possessive of her. Don’t leave a mark on her Oscar, or I might not be able to forgive you for it.”
Oscar nodded; it seemed like all that Logan told him went through one ear and out the other. Logan sighed, climbing on the bed right behind you, hauling your panting body up. He used his chest to support your back, putting you right at the edge of the bed for Oscar. His other hands spread your legs wide.
“You want me to?” Logan rolled his eyes, taking one hand away from you and tossing a condom for Oscar to catch. He hated it because he was acting so inexperienced in front of you. He held the condom, opening it while pulling his cock out and putting the protection on properly.
“Pick a hole, ass or pussy?”
“I know you, Logan; you pick.” Logan smiled upon hearing Oscar say such a thing. He was caressing your cheek, flipping you over, and having you on all four.
“I say surprise her. You dreamed of this, so do what you want for once.” Oscar knew Logan's kind heart was nothing but excited to have control over him. Logan pulled out his cock, pumping it a few times. "Besides, I have her mouth.” He shoved his cock into your mouth suddenly. Oscar began to hear the lewd sounds of your muffled gags. He groaned while doing it. He shoved his cock up your ass. It was so tight, and you were so unprepared. “You picked her ass. I’ve been training her, so she’ll be fine.”
Logan gently placed his hands on your head, playing with your hair; cooing at you. Oscar could tell he truly cared for you. No matter what, even face-fucking you, he had a hint of gentleness. Oscar held onto your hips, bouncing you back and forth on his cock. Causing moans to be heard that were muffled by Logan's cock in your mouth. Logan thrust deep into your mouth, gagging echo into the large room.
“Can I grab her hair?” Logan smirked, nodding to him. Oscar's hand went to your hair, pulling it back, causing a small pop when your lips left Logan's cock. Logan used the opportunity of shock from you to shove his cock once more into your beautiful mouth. Logan and Oscar found themselves moaning, both enjoying the view of you being used. Clearly, they both enjoyed it; their relationship has been a bit rocky since Logan got with you, and this was a good way to get them to fix it.
You, on the other hand, didn’t mind it; you were being fucked in two holes and forced into a moaning mess. You loved it even when your hands got weak. They began to shake, feeling like you were about to orgasm. You knew Logan was close, his cock twitching in your mouth and his thrust being deeper than normal, making you gag even louder than before. You weren’t sure how Oscar orgasmed and were unsure if he was close or not, yet the sounds of his whimpering from how good your ass felt told you all you needed.
The abuse of your ass and mouth continued until Logan thrust so deep it made you gag that you had to pull away while he came. Oscar grabbed your hair tightly, your mouth open, and Logan once more shoved his cock in your mouth, making you milk him dry. You were gasping for air, trying to moan, cum flowing out of your lips, unable to hold yourself up. Oscar fucked you faster; you knew he was enjoying it, but it became overwhelming for him.
That was until he pulled you back by your hair so tight that he sat you up and came into your ass deep, filling his condom up. Leaving you moaning loudly at the feeling of his cock getting soft slowly. You were still covered in cum. Logan leaned down to you, kissing you deeply, not caring about the cum clearly on your lips. Oscar is still deep inside you; his cock is so deep that it feels better than any woman he has been with.
“We can do this again, Oscar.” Logan and Oscar were both naked, watching your sleeping body. You went right to sleep after they helped clean you up.
“I missed you too, Logan.” They turned to each other and shook hands, firmly embracing each other in a quick hug.
#fanfic#x reader#oneshot#formula one x reader#f1 smut#fanfcition#formula one smut#oscar piastri#oscar piastri x reader#oscar piastri smut#logan sargeant smut#logan sargent x reader#mclaren f1#mclaren x reader#williams racing#f1 x reader#formula 1 x reader#formula 1 smut#oscar x Logan#Logan sargeant x Oscar Piastri
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Summary: After years of being split apart from your group, due to being taken and relocated by the Saviors, you run in to not only one familiar face, but specifically, the one you were searching for this whole time.
Warnings: strong language, apocalypse setting, swearing, mentions of knives, guns, bows, other weapons, mentions of killing (both humans and zombies), some descriptive text, reader gets taken by the saviors, mentions of scars, fighting, AGE GAP - friends to lovers, reader likes Daryl, Daryl hides the fact that he likes reader, some flirting, nothing too spicy lol
Word count: 4.9k | not edited also my first Daryl fic so be nice :)
A/N - I’m writing this for me, yes, but I’m also this for the ones who have a problem, I mean… are attracted to men old enough to be their father, so please do NOT read if age gap relationships make you uncomfortable! This also is more or less my version of the walking dead, the group meets Negan, but not like in the show.
ＦＩＶＥ • ＹＥＡＲＳ • ＡＧＯ
There was no denying that you were Daryl’s favorite person to go on runs with, anyone that just showed up could tell you that.
You were fast. Efficient. Very get in and get out type of girl. You didn’t fuck around, and Daryl loved that - but he’d never tell you that himself.
He also swore to never tell you that he wanted you around him because you made him happy in ways that he didn’t really like to talk about.
You were like a breath of fresh air to him, you picked up what he liked and what he didn’t like almost right away, you were one of the very few people that he didn’t get tired of being around all the time, hence why you join him every time he goes on a run.
He wasn’t much of a talker, the very first two runs together, you got a few mumbles out of him, mainly telling you where to go and when to look out.
But, that was until your third run of many run with Daryl. It would be silent, and he would almost scare you with just talking outright.
It wasn’t more than a, ‘how’s your day?’
Or maybe a, ‘ya sleep last night? Y’look tired’
You would always give him a quick, straight to the point response, ‘tossed and turned all night, might need a new blanket or somethin’
Or you would tease him slightly with something along the lines of, ‘Days better now that I’m out runnin’ around with my bestie.’
He says he hated when you called him that, but he would always chuckle and try to hide his smile by pointing out something ahead.
You would go with it, rolling your eyes subtly before you squint, “Daryl, I think you’re seeing things.” You look over at him, “or you’re just scared to talk to me.”
He’d scoff, “Ain’t scared of nothin’, darlin’.”
All you could do was smile and look away, mainly to hide the red on your cheeks from being spotted.
It really wasn’t that Daryl was scared, it was just, as slightly embarrassing as he thinks, he didn’t know how to talk to you.
He would always try to remind himself that you aren’t this delicate little flower, you can handle yourself. If you couldn’t, he would have never stumbled upon you.
You both would keep moving, not really stopping unless a walker or something came out of the tree line. The more runs you added to the list, the more you realized that you were patient enough to wait on him.
You really did have all the time in the world.
Were you also young and twenty one years old? Sure. But in this world, you’d always like to think, What’s it matter, really?
You had to roll with what you found, and you got lucky that day Daryl found you under a fallen tree - long story short, he helped you out and as soon as he knew your name, he couldn’t help but want to bring you home with him.
And that’s what he did.
Daryl has also spoken, well, more or less make comments to Rick about the girl from the woods. He’d beat around the bush as his eyes followed you across the way, watching as Carol showed you around, “y’know that girl I brought in?”
Rock would nod, “Y/n?”
A smirk would play sure Daryl’s lips as he replays you taking out two walkers at the same time, “Little young, though. Ain’t she?”
Rick shook his head, giving Daryl’s shoulder a squeeze as he stood up, “You deserve what ever makes you happy, Daryl. We make our own rules now.”
——
“There was a convenient store on the corner of one of these roads.” You look at Daryl then glancing behind you, “I figured.. if we don’t find it today.” You glance back and then forward, “We can try and hit it another day.”
“Would ya stop fuckin’ doin’ that?” He looks behind you and then at you, “really freakin’ me out today, y/n. What’s goin’ on with ya?”
“Sorry.” You sigh, shaking your head, “I just have this really weird feeling like we should have just stayed back today.”
“You wanna go back?” Daryl stops as you take a few steps ahead before turning around. He nods back, “We’re not that far away, if y’feel safer goin’ back-“
“I’m not letting you go out there alone.”
“I’m not goin’ back.” Daryl was stubborn, but so were you, “Then so am I.”
He scoffs quietly, shaking his head as he nudges you with his elbow, indicating you to walk with him. You turn, staying a little bit closer to Daryl as you make your way down the road.
About an hour away, you stand up from the last of the boxes in a semi fallen down shed, “Nothing.” You turn to Daryl and he shakes his head, “Got the same over here.”
“No where?” You look around the room and he shrugs, “should prolly just head back, it’s gonna get dark here soon.”
The weird feeling you had from earlier returns and you sigh, “Not to be annoying, but I can’t shake this feeling.”
Daryl clenches his jaw, “Alright, it’s alright.” He picks up his crossbow, “C’mon now.”
It’s the way Daryl makes your heart warm with the simple, nonchalant ways he makes sure you’re okay, trying to make sure you’re calm without actually letting you know that that is what he’s doing, but you know.
You’ve come to know Daryl better than anyone in the few short months you’ve been at Alexandria.
“Did somethin’ happen or, what?” Daryl asks as he glances over at you, trying to keep up with your slightly faster pace.
You shrug, “I just feel like something is going to happen, Daryl.” You look over at him, “Something bad.”
——
Your feeling was proven to be worth something because the moment you entered through the gates, you were gunned down, Daryl, too.
“Gimme your guns.” A tall man says in a sing-songy tone as he bends down, looking you right in your face, “And your cross bow.” He looks over to Daryl and Daryl wasn’t going to give it up without a fight.
The man stands up, walking over to lean down in Daryl’s face, “Now.”
“Y/n. Do it.” Rick says catching your attention. Only your eyes move towards Rick, hands up as a gun is pointed right next to his temple, “Daryl. You, too.”
“I’d listen to your boss man, alright. I don’t feel like killing anyone today, which is..” the man tilts his head, scratching at his temple, “Odd, but anyone. Consider this your one time act of kindness because I can promise you, from here on out, ain’t gonna be purdy.”
You tilt your head, taking your gun from your shoulder and laying it down. You take your pistol and set it down next to the rifle, “That’s all I have.”
“Mm.” The man tilts his head, “I don’t believe you.” He grips your bicep hard, causing you to yelp as he yanks you forward and onto your feet.
“Let her fuckin’ go!” Daryl yells, and you know he’s already trying to get up, but the moment you get to look back, there’s a gun in his face, blocking his view of you.
You’re thrown up against the side of the old and dusty moving truck, groaning as your head ricochetes off the side with a thump, “Fuck, ow!”
You bring your hand up, pulling it away to see red when you feel a wetness on your skin.
“You mother fu-“ Daryl starts to yell, but the man puts a gun to your temple, “I’m just trying to do my job, now shut the fuck up or I’ll really give you something to fucking yell about.”
You keep your eyes on Daryl, watching as his eyes quickly move between you and the man holding you hostage.
“I’ll keep it professional.” He taps your shoulder, “Arat. Come check her for weapons.”
You were scared shitless.
You didn’t want to die, or anyone else to die.
Who are these people, you thought as the woman behind you slid her hands roughly over your body, “Simon. This is her.”
You head shot up as Simon, supposedly, laughs, “No fucking way.” He steps back, “Negan is going to love this.”
“Who’s Negan?” Rick asks and Simon turns around slowly to look at Rick, arms spreading out to his sides slowly, “We’re all Negan.”
Simon points to you with his thumb, “Load her up.”
The uproar that happens within your people is instant and there’s a shot fired into the air, making you flinch.
“That’s e-fuckin’-nuff.” Simon yells, “The girl is coming with us, and there’s-“ he raises his voice, “Nothing you can do about it.”
He walks you back to the truck, motioning with his gun for you to get in.
You take one last look at Daryl before you start to get in, heading Simon chuckle as he sighs, “Maybe you’ll see her again, maybe you won’t. We’ll be back with more orders. Until then, stay the fuck here or more we will kill your beloved.. whatever she is to you.”
Simon looks at Daryl, “You got that Robin Hood?”
Daryl holds his heated stare onto him and that’s the last thing you see before the door shuts.
——
“Well, well, fuckin’ well. What do we have here?” A deep voice boasts from behind you. You wiggle your wrists and close your eyes, feeling a presence move around you to your front.
You open your eyes and you’re met with a rugged dude in a leather jacket, a baseball bat that’s wrapped in barbed wire tightly secured in his fist, “You must be the girl who knows her way around those dead fucks out there.”
“What are you talking about?” You look up, eyes meeting the tall, older man and he just chuckles, “A few of my men saw you take on a group, I dunno, five or six deep..” he points to you with each word, “..All. on. your. own.”
You shrug, “I’ve been out there a while.”
“And how longs a while, sweetheart?” The man asks, squatting down in front of you.
“Two years with a group, three on my own.” You say quietly, your brain reminding you about the night had no other choice but to go off on your own.
“Holy shit.” The man shakes his head, “You hearin’ this shit, Simon?”
“Arat said it was her. I can get Gavin to confirm, too.” Simon answers and the man nods, standing up to pull a chair over in front of you, “If I untie you, you promise you’ll play nice?”
You were disgusted. You wanted to go home.
You wanted Daryl. You wanted Daryl more than anything.
You nod, hands gripping the arm rests as his knife slides between your skin and the rope, flicking the blade upward to get it to cut open.
He repeats it to the other side and leans back, “You seem like you have a pretty name.” He tilts his head, fingers rubbing over the stubble on his chin, “Do you have a pretty name, sweetheart?”
“Y/n.”
“Y/n.” The man repeats in a whisper, “Damn. That is pretty.” He shakes his head, smirking as his eyes take in your, very nervous figure sitting in the chair, “Look.”
The man leans forward, “I’ll tell you this, alright.” You keep your eyes off of him, which seemed to upset him. His voice grew louder and his hand reached up to tightly grip your chin, “Look. At. Me. When I am talking to you.”
You force your eyes to his and he picks up speaking where he stopped, “You’re a little spit fire out there, okay. Which mean, you’re a delicacy to your little asshole groupies back at that shithole, what was it called? Alex- some for bullshit?”
“Alexandria.” You mumble out, keeping your eyes on his. He tilts his head back, his hand still gripping your chin, “Oh, oh. Right. Yes. Alexandria.”
The door behind you opens and the man drops his hand, “Gavin, my man. I need you to tell me if this is the girl you say in the woods a few weeks ago.”
The man stands up, spinning the chair around for, presumed, Gavin to see you. His eyes move over your body, “Does she have a tattoo or some sort of mark on the back of her left arm?”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“When she lifted her arm, it-“
“Lift your arm for me, sweetheart.” The man spins you towards him and you have no other choice but to oblige, you strongly feel that the other choice is death, which you can not allow to happen now.
You pull your shirt sleeve up and the man scoffs, “Bing-fucking-o.” The man shakes his head, “Get a team together, we’re going to meet the people of Alexandria earlier than expected.”
He looks to you, “Take her up to a room. A good room. She hasn’t done anything to not deserve it yet.” He winks at you and you look down as you feel a hand grab your bicep to lift you to your feet.
“Do you have any questions for me?”
You stop, turning to look at the man with the baseball bat resting on his shoulder, “Who are you?”
“Oh, sweetheart.” He walks over, tilting his head as he looks down at you, “I’m Negan.”
——
Your first day here was scary. You cried yourself to sleep, worried both about Daryl and the rest of Alexandria.
By the next morning, You were itching to get out, constantly looking for a way to escape, but they had so many people, no matter where you looked, you had eyes on you at all times.
To your surprise, the last week you spent with what you heard them call themselves, The Saviors, wasn’t in a stone cell like you pictured them doing the second you left that room on the first day.
You really didn’t know why.
You kill zombies, big deal. Doesn’t everyone else on this fucked up planet?
“Come with me, honey pie.” Simon says as he pulls you along with him, “Your time to shine.”
You’re taken outside, squinting at the brightness of the sun shining down from above. You couldn’t help but take a deep breathe, it’s the first time you’ve been outside in days.
“Get in and scoot over.” Simon commands and you climb up into the truck, your eyes meeting Negan’s as he steps up to sit into the passengers seat.
You don’t say a word to him. You just face forward as Simon smooshes you between him and Negan as he closes the door.
“So you and Robin Hood, huh?” Simon asks, referring to Daryl. You shake your head in response.
“Listen, sweetie. One thing we do around here, is answer people questions, with the words we learned how to speak. Got it?”
“Yes sir.” You say, clearing your throat, “No, me and.. Robin Hood are not a thing.”
“Seems to care about you like he does. You catch onto that Negan? The way he wanted to rip your throat out yesterday?” Simon chuckles, “Aw the look in his, man. I tell you what though, if looks could kill, you would have been dead.”
“Gonna have to take more than a nasty look to kill me.” Negan chuckles deeply, “Oh looky here.” He points, looking over at you as he sings, “honey.. we’re home.”
Your heart was racing as you seen Rosita motion to open the gate.
You watch her face shift into a shocked look when she caught glimpse of you through the windshield.
As you drive in, coming to a stop, you already see Daryl, front and center with Rick.
“C’mon.” Simon motions to you and you slide over, allowing him to help you down before you follow him around the truck. He pulls you closer to him, the click sending a shiver down your spine.
“Alright. Here’s the deal. You all want your badass, Duffy the zombie slayer black, but I don’t know.” Negan glances back at you, “She could be useful to me.”
You see Rick tighten his grip on Daryl’s vest and you send him a loving look.
“That thought didn’t even cross my mind, but you know what, how about this, If you want y/n back, give us half of your food today, and I want, we’ll make it easy.. ten guns by next week.”
“T-ten guns?” Rick asks baffled, “by next week? Negan that’s.. don’t you think that’s a little impossible?”
“Fine, make it fifteen by Friday, or you can say goodbye to the only chance you all actually have at surviving.” Negan points to you, “As you can she, she’s alive and well, now.”
Negan motions to the truck, “Let’s go.”
You shake your head and Simon grabs your arm roughly and you pull back, letting your fear get the best of you, “No, please. Nono, please no! No!”
Your pleads only set everyone on your side off, yelling and trying to push past the wall of Saviors.
Knives are drawn and you’re held to Negan’s chest, “Listen here! I make the rules. I have something you want and now, you’re going to go off and fuckin’ get me what I want. I’m done negotiating.”
“Negan, please. Just let y/n stay an I pro-“
Negan cuts Rick off, “You promise what, Rick? Huh? You already doubted yourselves with getting ten-“ He gasps, “Sorry, I mean fifteen by next Friday.”
He laughs, shaking his head, sighing as he brings his bat, Lucille, next for your face, “what makes you think you can handle the load of getting this thing here back.”
Daryl’s eyes squint as Negan calls you, this thing.
You swallow, glancing around.
You can take on six walkers, but not this many saviors, the walkers didn’t have rifles pointed at the people you’ve come to love and care for.
“Why are-“ Negan scoffs, “Why are we even still discussing this? You know what. Fine.” He pushes you to the back of the truck and you stumble, silently begging for help.
“If you’re going to cause this big of a fuss instead of just doing as I say..” Negan looks at you, “Then no one can.”
He shrugs, pointing Lucille at the open back, “Get in, or I kill someone.”
——
Ｐ Ｒ Ｅ Ｓ Ｅ Ｎ Ｔ • Ｄ Ａ Ｙ
You held your breath as you pushed your back up against the tree, waiting for the stray walker to move past you, knife at the ready just in case.
You slip around the tree, opposite way from the dead before you continue your journey through the woods.
It’s been, almost five years since you were left stranded in the middle of god knows where by Negan and his Saviors.
You weren’t even sure if they were still a thing or not, but jokes on them, you’re still alive.
And you’re full of fight.
You stopped at the river, bending down to feel the cool water on your fingertips. You’ve been walking all day, and you just needed to take a second.
You look up, taking in the scenery for a few moments before it all starts to becomes, familiar.
You stand up, looking around as your heart starts to pound. You shake your head, laughing slightly as you bend down to grab your bag.
If this is the river you were thinking of, then this river runs directly past your grandfathers cabin, and you can only hope that if Daryl was alive and out there looking for you, that he comes this way.
He should know about this, you stumbled upon it while on a run the one day. You remember about it, but all you knew was that it was next to the river that looked really pretty when the sun was setting, and it still does.
You only had about two hours of sunlight left, and you didn’t know how far you had to go yet, or even if you were going in the right direction.
If this cabin was here, maybe you could finally get a decent nights sleep, that is if it isn’t destroyed by walkers and the storms that plow through.
“I’m going to go get some more firewood.” A woman’s voice sounds through the trees. You stop, moving, furrowing your brows as you try and listen, but she’s already moving, walking away from the small building.
Your cabin.
You feel like you could throw up.
You turn around, trying to see if you can get a glimpse of who she was talking, too, but nothing.
“Raise your hands and turn around slowly.”
You whip around, catching her off guard before her face settles, “Holy shit.” Carol laughs slightly, “Daryl is going to lose his mind.”
She pulls you into a hug and you hear her sniffle, “oh my god, look at you.” She leans back, hands sliding over your hand and down your face, “You grew up.”
You smile slightly, your mind going back to who’s in the cabin, “Is he in there?”
“Every chance he got.” She shakes her head, “So much has happened.” You see the pain in her eyes but you opt to keep things happy right now, “we can talk later. I want to see Daryl first.”
She nods, brushing hair from your face, “Im so happy you found your way back.”
“It was hell, but right now, totally worth it.” You take a deep breath, “You go in first.”
She nods, walking a head of you as she leads you back towards the cabin, “Hey Daryl.” Carol calls as she smaller back at you, “I found something that you’re going to want to see.”
You stand by the fire, the glow illuminates you as you stand there waiting to see his face for the very first time in five years.
The feelings you had, never went away.
“What’d ya fi-“ His face falls and his arms go limp by his sides as he shakes his head, “No fuckin’ way.”
Tears well up in your eyes as Daryl slowly steps down off the porch, “No fuckin’ way.” He looks at Carol and back to you before quickly making his way over to you.
“Where the hell ya been?” He grabs you, pulling you into his chest tight, “I thought you were dead, I-.” He leans back, looking over your slightly older looks.
“Negan told us that he watched you get attacked by walkers.” Carol chimes in, finishing what Daryl couldn’t, “He brought back your necklace, there was blood on it.. we didn’t..”
You keep your hands on Daryl, your fingers moving under the sleeve of his jacket, “Negan snapped that necklace off my neck before they dumped me in the middle of nowhere.”
Daryl scoffs, pulling you closer to rest his chin on your head. Carol smiles as she watches the affectionate radiate off of him.
“They drove me way past the city, too. I don’t know. I’m pretty sure they drugged me or something because I was out for most of the trip.”
You feel Daryl’s grip tighten with your words and you shake your head, laying a hand on his bicep, “So much happened.”
You think back to all the stuff you had to do just to make it back to here, cringing at yourself.
“Ya hungry?” Daryl asks changing the subject and you nod, “Starving.”
——
Since the minute you found them, Daryl hasn’t left your side, and Dog right by his.
You were able to handle the news of the deaths and destruction among your group and homes, it hurt to hear, but it’s better that you know how than walking in expecting everything to be all sunshine and rainbows.
ou cried, but there was one question you needed the answer to.
“Are the Savior’s gone?” You looked up at Carol as she looks to Daryl. Your attention moves to him and he nods, “Ah, yeah. Yeah. But..”
“What?”
“Negan is at Alexandria.”
You’re on your feet, “What.”
“It’s only tem-“
You turn, walking away from Carol as she tries to explain, but you walk over to a tree, pressing your hand into it.
As you take a few deep breathes, you feel someone walking up to you, “I just need a minute.” You tilt your head, closing your eyes as you swallow the feeling of wanting to puke away.
“S’alot to process.” Daryl mumbles, unsure of what to do, “Take your time.”
Do you resent him now?
Are you going to leave again?
He wanted you to know everything, but he wouldn’t have if that meant you leaving again.
“Daryl?” You wave your hand in front of his face and he blinks, “Sorry I just..” he shakes his head, “please don’t leave me again.”
“Leave you again?” You laugh slightly, letting out a sigh, “Why would you think that I’d leave you? I’ve been looking for you.”
“I haven’t stopped. I came here because I-“
You smirk slightly, “Because you actually paid attention to your bestie?”
He gives you a small smirk, shoulders heaving as he laughs ever so slightly, “You’ve changed..” Daryl brushes his hand over your hair, his thumb gently brushing over your face, His brows furrow, “when did you get this?”
His finger brushes over the scar on your top lip, “Did someone do this t’you?”
“One of those assholes that pushed me out of the car, hit my face on a rock.” You shake your head, “It’s just a scar, Daryl.”
Which was one of many you have received.
“Sorry I-“
“Don’t. Don’t do that.” You shake your head, “What happened to me wasn’t your fault, okay.”
All he does is nod but you frown slightly, “Have I ever told you that I liked you?”
“I don’t think you’d come on runs with me if ya didn’t.” Daryl looks at you and you tilt your head, “No, like..” you bite your lip and sigh.
He laughs slightly, “M’old enough to be your daddy, y/n.” You smirk up at him, getting ready to say something but he pulls you towards him, “Watch out.”
Natural instinct, you have your knife in your hand within a second and you both swing around, the blades of your knives entering the dead’s skull in unison.
You look at the knives and back to Daryl, “Either way I look at it.” You pull your knife from the walker, “You and I will always have unfinished business to take care of.”
Daryl shakes his head as he withdrawals his knife, “You think?”
You lay your hand on his chest, “I know.”
You couldn’t let yourself feel what you’ve pushed through, but both Carol and Daryl can see that.
“Hi, boy.” You bend down to pet Dog, your shirt riding up to reveal a slightly bigger scar than on your lip. Daryl’s eyes fixate on it right away and he clenches his jaw.
Before he can ask, you stand up, “You fix up everything?”
“Yeah, go take a look.” Daryl sniffles and walks towards Carol as you walk into the cabin. Memories of growing up here flood through, almost breaking that barrier until Dog pushes between your legs, whining as he trots in.
“Do you need anything?” Carol asks walking up beside you. You shake your head, hesitating to look over at her at first, “No, no. I’m good.”
“We can head back to Alexandria in the morning.” She rubs your back, “It’s really good to have you back.”
You smile, nodding, “It’s really nice to not be alone.”
“What happened out there?”
You shake your head sluggishly, “I don’t-“
“Okay.” She says quickly as Daryl walks in. You look up at him, “I think I’m going to go lay down.” You walk over to where your bag is and sit down.
You bring your knees to your chest, eyes focusing on Dog as he glows in the light of the fire.
A few moments later, Daryl’s footsteps move closer to you. He stays silent as he moves to sit next to you. He brings his arm out, laying it around your back as he pulls you into his side.
You immediately fall into him, your head on his chest, arm around his torso. He inches back, just enough to lean against the wall for support.
Daryl looked down at you, gently playing with strands of your now long hair, it was just a little past your shoulders when you were separated.
You lost weight from having to scavenge for any food that was safe to eat.
He knew what you went through was tormenting you, he just wanted you to know that you aren’t alone.
“Look at me, y/n.”
You roll over into your back, head in his lap as you stare up at him.
“When you’re ready to tell someone, m’here f’ya.”
You close your eyes as his hand strokes over your hair. You haven’t felt this safe in a while, so you were just trying to soak it all in without having to worry every single second of the day and most nights.
“I love you.” Daryl whispers, “Should’ve told you that years ago.”
“It’s about time you say those words to me, Daryl Dixon.” You sit up, keeping your chest on his arm as you lean in, “I love you.”
——
I started to hate this towards the end but I NEEDED to get this off of my chest. I hope you enjoyed. As always, I love you so much. Thank you for reading! 🖤
likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!
#samandcolby-ownme#Daryl Dixon#Daryl Dixon x reader#daryl dixion imagine#twd Daryl Dixon#the walking dead#the walking dead fanfictions#the walking dead one shots#smut#fluff#daryl dixon x you#daryl dixon x female reader#daryl dixon x y/n#Daddy issues#Daryl Dixon one shots#Daryl dixon one shot#Daryl Dixon oneshots#Daryl Dixon oneshot#Daryl Dixon fluff#Daryl Dixon smut#fanfiction#fanfic#twd fanfiction
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can u do more tojiii 🧁
your parents are on a business trip, which gives you more freedom than a sheltered 20 year old should have. they left the country thinking their daughter would continue to drive around your suburban neighborhood, continue going to both your ballet and pilate classes, go to your college classes and stay there retaining all of the information you possibly can. it’s the basic things they expected of you.
little did they know you were far far from home. your expensive shoes plopped against the cracked ed concrete. in the distance, you could hear the sound of multiple police sirens ringing throughout. they seemed to grow close before disappearing and the crying sirens becomes quieter and quieter. your eyes take in the environment in front of you, the buildings that you could tell were once vibrant now lost their color. cracks and chunks of the bricks used to build them up were missing and large colorful vandalism littered spots on the buildings. corner stores with peeling paint and flickering neon signs offer a glimpse of the local people here struggling to survive.
it feels like a gray filter is casted on this side of town. and with winter being seconds away from approaching, everything is colder and dull. the sky grumbles, threatening—no, warning people of what’s to come. a group of guys are standing at a trash littered corner as you and toji past by them. you curiously look at their faces, they’re all already looking at you with a gleam in their eyes. you gasp to yourself and clutch toji’s hand tighter in fear.
“got ya’ a young one!” one of the guys call out to toji, “bet that pussy’s nice ‘nd tight!”
toji walks faster, his grip tightening on your hand. you struggle to keep up with his fast steps. his walking is your fast walking, you’re almost on the borderline of jogging. the fall air sores through your chest as you continue looking around the neighborhood curiously.
the two of you walk until you get to a worn down building. it’s littered with moss, vines, and graffiti. toji lets go of your hand to pick out a single key in his pocket.
“go inside. i’ll be back.” he tells you. you can’t stop yourself from frowning.
“i-what? no!” you say with widened eyes. as interesting as it is to be in a part of town that your parents demanded you never came over, things are still dangerous. the thought of going into a building you’ve never been inside and just waiting for him has your heart thumping in fear. anything could happen while he’s gone.
“‘m not askin’.” he could see you trying to form up some rebuttal, some way to argue with him and he can’t stop himself from rolling his eyes. “i’ll only be gone for about ten minutes. you can be a good girl and wait for ten minutes, right?”
you’re stiffly nodding your head while looking up at him. you try to convince yourself that ten minutes is not that long of a wait.
“i’ll knock six times and then say gumi. if someone knocks but doesn’t say the code word don’t open the door, understand?” he speaks carefully while looking into your eyes. he’s hoping all of his words are actually sticking and not just going through one ear and flowing out the other.
“fine..” you’re sighing and pouting, hoping that that’ll make him for bad for leaving you alone so soon.
he examines your face for a few seconds. he doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, the two of you quietly look at each other into each other’s face until a dog barks and interrupts you both. toji steps back, giving you more personal space.
you don’t know if you’re supposed to give him a kiss or hug goodbye. your relationship with him is still new and timid at times. your feet are moving before you realize it and your arms have a mind of their own as they wrap around his figure. to your surprise, toji accepts your hug, though it is awkward. he pats your head like some dog.
after a few prolonged seconds, he’s pulling you away from him. “alright, kid. go inside.”
and you listen. with shaky hands, you bring the key to the knob. it takes only a second to unlock the door. to your dismay. the door creaks as it slowly opens. you look back at toji one more time, he’s still waiting for you to go completely inside before walking away.
you let out a breath before stepping into his house. you make sure to lock the door behind you.
the inside of the house is sparsely furnished with basic necessities—a worn-out couch, a small dining table with mismatched chairs. there are warm tones of the walls try to add a comforting touch to the otherwise bleak space, but they can't hide the signs of neglect. the floorboards creak with every step, and the curtains are thin, barely filtering out the dim light from the outside light. you’re used to big elegant houses so to see something so small and compact has your eyebrows rising. as you tour throughout the entire house, every room is just about the same. bare with just hints of being lived in. you curiously open the refrigerator, you’re met with nothing. just a bottle of half drunken hennessy, and a sandwich. you’re in disbelief that someone actually lives like this.
luckily, the electricity worked. you turned the heat up before trailing into his bedroom. the room is a master, it has a queen sized bed in the middle of the floor and a single dresser with a tv sitting on top of it. you strip out of your clothing besides your bra and panties. you rummage through his drawers until you find a solid black shirt. you put it on, it fits you like a dress. it stops right under your ass and the littlest movement would expose it off. you fold your discarded clothes, and place them on top of his dresser. you grab your phone and lay down on his bed.
his house is quiet. too quiet. there’s nothing to hear besides your thoughts. you can’t help but to wonder how he lives like this. so alone with nothing but his thoughts. you sigh out to yourself, it’s almost close to the ten minute mark.
you mindlessly scroll on your phone until you finally hear it. you rush out of his bed and make a straight line to the door.
knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock.
“gumi.”
you let out a breath and swing the door open. toji stands there with a. smug smirk on his face. as you look up at him, breathless, you notice a newfound small scar on his cheek.
“you don’t look happy t’see me, cutie.” toji practically pushes you to the side. you’re unsteady on your feet before catching your balance.
“no! i am! i’m very happy!” you exclaim. you watch as his fingers go to unzip his jacket, your eyes widen when you realize his knuckles are red and bruised.
his eyes follow what you’re looking at and when he realizes you’re reacting to his bruised knuckles he just chuckles. "i see you made yourself comfortable." he comments.
you bite down on your lip trying to hide your giddy smile. "it smells like you.”
toji only hums at your statement. he walks through his house and you follow behind him like a lost puppy. your uncertain steps travel closely behind his confident ones. he leads you to the bathroom, you don’t know if you should stop at the door or continue to waltz through.
“c’mon.” he ushers you.
he turns the shower on and lets it run for a little. he takes the time to take his clothes off, he smirks to himself when he sees your curious eyes linger on every inch of his body. once he’s bare, he walks over to you, pulling you closer to him. his hands wonder on your body before he’s tugging on your shirt, signaling that he wants it off. he helps you undress yourself, once you’re naked in front of him, he’s ogling at your body while letting out a pleased whistle.
“step in.” he tells you.
you follow his directions and step in the tub. now that you’re actually in it. the tub is quite condemned and with how big toji is you briefly wonder if the two of you are going to fit.
he hands you a white rag before stepping in behind you. you’re stiff, you’ve never showered with another person, ever. you’re used to showering in luxury bathrooms with the upmost space. you see that there’s only one bottle of body wash, which is also something you’re not used to. you use a plethora of skincare products that make you feel nice and clean, not some off-brand from the convenience store.
“since it seems like you don’t know how to wash yourself.” toji tuts before taking the rag out of your hands. he pours a nice amount of gel on the fabric before wetting it.
the feeling of his hands cascading around your body is .. weird. his movements are extremely gentle, he touches you like you’re some sort or sensitive rare artifact. you find yourself relaxing against his body as he cleans you. he starts from the neck and works his way down, even going so far as to clean the outside of your intimate areas with just water. you return the favor to him, also. he washes himself but he does let you wash his back. once the two of you are cleaned, you stay under the slowly turning cold water until it’s fully freezing.
there’s only one towel out when you two step out. you look up at toji cautiously.
“forgot to grab the other.” he shrugs. he wraps the towel around your body and then opens the bathroom door.
you two make your way to his bedroom. you could hear the sound of rain pattering against the roof and occasional thunder blooming throughout the air. toji turns on a single lamp as a source of light.
the two of you dry off in your own towels. once you’re dry, you’re looking up at toji. the very few times you’ve been around him it feels like your brain stops working and you have to look at from guidance. you can’t tell if he gets annoyed by it or not, if he does he doesn’t say anything.
toji guides you to sit on the edge of the bed. before you could ask why, his lips are on yours. he kisses you greedily, he sucks up both your tongue and air. with you being not so experienced, you struggle to keep up with his experienced mechanisms. you can’t stop yourself as you’re leaning back, and toji follows you. he makes sure not to drop his entire weight so that he wouldn’t crush you.
the two of you continue to sloppily make out for a while, the kiss morphing from just lips to tongue and spit swapping. you let out a soft moan as toji begins grinding his growing hard on against your clit.
he slowly pulls his lips away from your lips and moves his lipa down to your jaw and neck. he kisses you and occasionally licks spots here and there, he makes sure not to leave any spots on your neck. he’s grown now, if he was still in his early 20’s he would’ve left marks to let people know there’s already a claim on you. but he’s past that childish point in his life.
“y’wanna get fucked, baby? hm? ‘s that why you came alway over here?” he taunts you. his hips are moving faster and one incorrect slip up would have his cock slipping right inside your wet cunt.
“y-yes. please.” breathy gasps are escaping past your lips. the friction he’s creating is so delicious and addictive.
“g’na give it to you, baby. g’na fuck this pussy. g’na mold it to fit only my cock.” he’s letting out a drawn out groan as he slides his cock into you. you’re both moaning out to each other. the second all of his cock is fit into you, he’s immediately pulling his cock out only to slam it back inside of you.
he straightens his back, putting some distance between the two of you. he grabs your legs and places them on his shoulder. he watches as your boobs bounce with every thrust and you’re clutching the bedsheets while still looking angelic.
“fuck.” you whimper out. his cock is so thick and it fills you up so well. “feel’s s-so good, tojiii.” you moan.
“mhmm. g’na let me fill this pussy up, ‘mma put a baby in you.” his breathing becoming heavier and you can’t help but gush out some more wetness at his claims of breeding.
“fuck a baby ‘nto me, toii, pleaseee.” you moan out.
toji grins at your words. if a baby is what you want, that’s what he’ll give to you.
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