#Best affordable truck booking

[digitalsarbeswar2001]

https://eztruck.co/logistics-service-in-bhubaneswar/

[tokkiwrites]

ᴍᴏʀɴɪɴɢ ᴡᴏᴏᴅ & ᴀɴɢᴇʟ ᴄᴀᴋᴇ

summary: your dad's birthday is coming up, and you want to buy something special, but you're short a couple hundred dollars. not wanting to change your idea for a gift you ask his best friend, Joel Miller, to help you out until you get more money. He agrees but surcharges. tags: pwp, dbf!joel, f!reader, afab reader, age gap (legal, the reader is 22, joel is in his mid forties), kind of slut shaming i dunno, fingering f receiving, head m receiving, dirty talk galore, pet names galore, p in v unprotected. (lmk if i missed anything)

/ᐠ - ˕ -マ⁩ authors note 𑁯 ✿ Woah i dunno what this was, kind of lame but i desperately need dbf joel to give it to me. 4.03k words but its mostly exposition. not proofread!!!

Your dad's birthday was just around the corner, and this year, you wanted to get him something that truly mattered. The usual gifts—grilling tools, books, maybe a bottle of whiskey—didn’t feel right. You’d found something more special, something that spoke to him. It was a vintage guitar, similar to the one he had when he was younger, the one he used to play for you on lazy sunday afternoons. You knew it would bring back memories for him, and maybe, just maybe, he’d start playing again.

But there was one big problem—you couldn’t afford it. You were short. A couple hundred dollars short, and no matter how you shifted your budget, it just wouldn’t work. You’d gone over your options more times than you could count, and each time, you felt that pang of disappointment grow stronger. You weren’t someone who liked asking for help. You always tried to handle things on your own, but this time, there was no way around it.

That’s when Joel came to mind. Maybe he could help.

Joel Miller had been your dad’s best friend for as long as you could remember. He was the one who was always around, helping out when your dad needed a hand with anything or just dropping by for a beer and a quiet conversation. Joel had a way about him—steady, unshakable. Older, but not in a way that dulled him. His rough edges made him seem more dependable, like someone who’d been through enough to know what really mattered.

Over the years, you’d noticed things about him. Little things. The way his voice, low and gravelly, would call out your name with a slow drawl that sent a small shiver down your spine and straight to your cunt. The way his hands, calloused from years of hard work, looked when they were fixing something or just resting casually on the steering wheel of his truck. Somewhere along the line, what started as casual observations turned into a quiet crush. It was ridiculous, really. He was your dad’s best friend, and you were way too young for him. But that didn’t stop the way your heart skipped whenever you saw him or how your breath caught when he gave you one of those long, unreadable looks.

You’d always had this childish, gnawing thing for Joel, even though you knew it was wrong. He was someone who’d practically watched you grow up. But that didn’t stop your mind from wandering in all the wrong places. Over the years, you’d caught yourself daydreaming about him, what he'd do to you, imagining what it would be like if things were different—if you were his.

It wasn’t just his looks, though those didn’t hurt. Joel had that rugged charm about him—broad shoulders, rough hands, and a way of carrying himself that made you feel safe and small in a way that made your mind spiral. you wanted to be at his mercy. You couldn’t help but notice the lines that deepened around his eyes when he smiled, the slow, steady way he spoke, that gentle drawl making every word sound like it was meant just for you. And those moments when his gaze lingered a second too long—when his eyes would flicker over you in a way that made your pulse quicken—you’d catch yourself wondering if maybe, just maybe, he saw you differently too.

But it was just fantasy. Joel was older, your dad’s best friend, and he’d never cross that line. You told yourself that over and over, but it didn’t stop the thoughts from creeping in. Late at night, when you were alone, you’d let yourself imagine— touching yourself while wondering. What if you weren’t who you were, and he wasn’t who he was? What if, in another life, he could be more than just your dad’s friend? You’d picture his hands on you, the way his voice might sound close to your ear, the roughness of his touch, the warmth of his breath on your skin.

But every time, reality pulled you back. Joel would never see you that way. It was impossible. You were just the kid he’d known for years, nothing more. Still, the fantasy lingered, a secret you kept tucked away, knowing it could never become anything real.

right?

You hadn’t planned on asking him for help. It wasn’t something you were comfortable with, especially not from Joel. But as the days ticked by and you couldn’t figure out how to make the money work, the idea crept into your mind more and more. He was reliable, and if anyone would help you out without making you feel bad about it, it would be Joel. You sat with your phone in your lap for what felt like forever, staring at his name on the screen. It took a few deep breaths before you finally hit call. The phone barely rang twice before you heard his familiar voice on the other end.

"Hey, darlin'," he spoke, the warmth of his voice instantly grounding you. "Somethin' wrong?" His concern was real. Joel wasn’t the type to waste words, and for a second, you thought about backing out. But then you thought about the gift, about your dad’s face when he saw it, and the words spilled out.

"Hey, Joel. I’m okay, just... I need a favor," you admitted, biting your lip, feeling the awkwardness rise in your chest. There was a soft chuckle on the other end of the line, the sound rumbling through the phone. "You? Ask for a favor? Must be somethin’ important."

You smiled despite yourself, already feeling some of the tension ease. “It’s about dad’s birthday. I found this perfect gift, but I’m short a couple hundred dollars, and... I hate asking, but I don’t know what else to do.” Joel was quiet for a moment, and you held your breath. Then, his voice came through, steady as always. "How much you need?" You blinked, surprised at how quick he was to offer. "Uh, about two hundred. I swear I’ll pay you back as soon as I—"

"Don’t worry ‘bout that," Joel cut you off, his tone so casual it almost threw you. "Come by later, we’ll figure it out."

And that was it. He hung up before you had a chance to protest, leaving you sitting there, a mixture of relief and something else bubbling inside you. Later came quicker than you expected, and before long, you found yourself driving out to his place. The sun was low in the sky, casting the road in golden light as you drove the familiar route. Joel lived just outside town, far enough out that it always felt like stepping into a different world when you visited him.

When you pulled into his driveway, his old truck was parked out front, dust-covered and reliable, much like the man himself. The air was warm, the sun casting long shadows across his yard, and for a moment, you sat in your car, your heart thudding in your chest. You didn’t know why you were so nervous—this was just Joel, after all—but something about this felt different. It wasn’t just about asking for money. Before you could second-guess yourself, you got out of the car and walked up to his front door. Your shoes crunched against the gravel, and the soft thud of your knock on the door sounded too loud in this quiet evening.

Joel opened the door almost immediately, like he’d been waiting for you all this time. He stood there, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, his dark eyes fixed on you. For a second, you were caught in his gaze, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. "Hey, darlin'," he greeted, his voice soft but thick with that familiar gruff.

"Hi, Joel," you replied, stepping inside, trying to hide your apparent blush. The smell of wood and something faintly musky filled the air, and the room felt like it always did—warm, safe. You’d been here countless times, but today, something felt different. Maybe it was just you. You sat down on the couch, trying to calm your nerves, while Joel took his usual spot across from you, leaning back in his chair with that easy posture, his eyes still lingering on you. There was something about the way he looked at you tonight, something that made your skin prickle with awareness.

“So,” he started, his voice low, “you need a little help with this gift, huh?” You nodded, feeling suddenly self-conscious under his gaze. “Yeah. It’s more expensive than I thought. I didn’t want to ask, but…” Joel shook his head, cutting you off. “You ain’t gotta explain. I told you I’d help, didn’t I?” Relief washed over you, but then, as you glanced back at him, you caught the way his eyes hadn’t left yours. There was something different in them now—something that made your heart race a little faster. "But," Joel continued, his tone dropping just a notch, slower now, like he was considering each word carefully, "you know me. I don’t do favors for nothin’."

Your breath hitched. There was an intensity in his voice, in the way he was watching you, that sent a rush of heat through your body. You felt your folds dripping through your white cotton panties. He wasn’t just talking about the money, and you knew it. The room seemed smaller, the air between you thick with something, your pulse plummeting under his steady gaze.

You swallowed, suddenly unsure of how to respond. You’d known Joel your whole life, but this—this was different. The way he was looking at you now wasn’t like anything you’d felt from him before, hungry, and it made you both nervous and excited, a dangerous mix you didn’t know how to handle. He leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees, his eyes never leaving yours. "So," he drawled, his voice like gravel, "what’re you gonna give me in return?"

"A-Anything.." You spoke up, the words cascading out before you could even process them. "That so?" You see him smile, looking down at his hands. "You're a big girl... I think you know what i want." Your heart almost stops. Joel stands up, slowly inching himself closer. "Joel, Iㅡ" you try to protest, not quite sure what to make of what he just said. "You think i don't know? think i dont notice how you look at me, always wearin' those skimpy clothes when 'm around...tryna' look innocent." the rhythm of your heart races, realizing what is really happening. you were to afraid to look up, afraid of what he'll say next, so you stuck to staring at the ground. "You think i couldn't hear ya touchin' yourself, moanin' my name, when I stayed over? God, woke up with the biggest morning wood ever that dayㅡ felt like a fuckin' teenager." he chuckles to himself, rough fingertips trailing your shoulder, finally reaching your chin. he grabs a hold of it, turning your head harshly so you could look at him. your blushed skin burned, eyes wide with expectation.

"Joel, 'm sorry, pleaseㅡ"

"Oh, so now you beggin'? could've come to me so long ago 'n ask me nicely to give it to you, sweet girl. Guess this is where you repay me for helpin' out with your dad's gift and for all those boners you made me power through." is this really happening? your eyes dart around the room, but he's quick to grab tightly on your cheeks, making your gazes meet. "You look at me when I'm talkin' to you, angel." His eyes were dark, intense, filled with something you couldn’t quite decipher, but it made your stomach twist with a mixture of fear and something else you were ashamed to nameㅡ you could try to deny it but the way your cunt pulsed when he talked to you that way was your biggest enemy. "Joel, please—" you started again, your voice shaky, but he cut you off with a low, humorless chuckle, his thumb brushing along your jaw, keeping you in place.

"Don't 'please' me, darlin'," he murmured, his voice dipping even lower, eyes now on your obvious cleavage. "You've been teasin’ me for years now, comin' ‘round lookin’ all sweet and innocent, actin' like you didn’t know what you were doin’. Always starin' at me with those big eyes, waitin' for me to make a wrong move." he was right and you hated to admit it. he held you firm, his grip unrelenting. " I didn't mean—"

"Oh, I think you meant every bit of it," he said, his lips curling into a small smile, head lowering. "But now look where that’s got you. You came to me for help, and I agreed to help, didn’t I? Now it’s time to give somethin' back." your pulse thudded loudly in your ears, drowning out everything but him, his voice, the feeling of him so close. You’d never thought it would be like this, not with Joel. You couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, caught between the fantasy you'd let grow over the years and the reality of what was happening now.

"You're gonna be good for me, aren't you? Gonna be a good little girl 'n let me have at you?" he asked, his voice a low rasp, like gravel scraping across your skin, the words sinking deep into your bones. "Yㅡyes." you say, voice was quiet, buried under the arousal, the want for more and his honey words. "Atta girl." Joel leaned in slowly, giving you time to pull back if you wanted to, but you didn't. You couldn't. Instead, you tilted your head up, closing the distance between you, your lips finally meeting his in a kiss. The moment his lips touched yours, it was like everything clicked into place. There was no hesitation, no uncertainty anymore. His kiss was slow but sure, his hand moving to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. You sighed into him, hands instinctively resting on his chest, feeling the warmth of him, the roughness that made him like a drug to you.

a few moments pass, and joel pulls away from the kiss, a string of saliva connecting your lips, one that he breaks when his rough thumb drags itself across your bottom lip. "pretty, pretty girl." you moan, you feel so pathetic. he's barely touched you, yet you feel the pool growing inside your panties by the second.

"p-please, joel.."

"please, what, angel cake? gotta tell me exactly what ya want." he smiles, prepping soft pecks onto your face. "t-touch me..please." you gather the courage to speak up, watching his eyes grow darker as he hears your request. "fuck, baby...what would your dad say if he heard you just then, huh? what if he saw what a cock desperate slut you are?" chuckling low, his fingers tangle themselves in your hair, making you whimper. "don't c-care.."

" 'Course you don't. Always knew you were a little whore. well, right now you'll be my little whore, right?" he tilts his head to the side, his thumb urging your mouth to open. "c'mon, girl, open." and you do as you're told, opening you mouth wide, tongue lulled out. he then gathers some spit in his mouth before letting the glistening droplet fall from his lips onto your tongue. "Swallow it. Let me seeㅡ" its so overwhelming, so dirty, and he didn't even do anything. at this moment, it feels as if only a slight nip at your skin could send you over the edge. "You know your place, yeah, baby?" you hum eagerly, not sure what his next request will be but ready to fulfill it and give him your all. "tell me. you really wanna do this." Guilt clawed at your heart. Yet, you couldn't stop what you felt. it was wrong, but in this moment, it felt so right. "need you, Joel, please.."

"fuck, okay angel."

his large hands start to pull at your clothes, undressing you slowly, savoring and drinking you up with his eyes. your naked body was shivering, you didn't know if it was from the temperature or because of the anticipation playing with your heartstringsㅡ you just knew you needed to give everything you had to Joel. make him proud. "i got you, babygirl." you feel yourself get picked up and placed onto the old leather couch in the middle of the living room, the cold surface making you jump a little. joel leans in, trailing soft kisses down the curve of your hip all the way to your mid thigh, as you try to bite back your moans. "Let me hear you, baby, don't hold back. you wanna make me proud, don't ya?" Oh, you do.

"gonna let me ruin you, angel girl?" and it feels like your heart could run a marathon. you nod away, eagerly. you feel so pathetic, all sprawled out naked under him, whilst he's still dressed. "words, baby. you that stupid already? I ain't even fucked you yet 'n you can't even say one word. tsk." he mocks you, twirling with your hardened nipples. "i'mㅡ please, joel, please..." you almost cry. he laughs, fingers finally reaching your dripping folds and swirling around them "fuck, darlin', you're so wet. all this for me, hm? this pussy cryin' for an old man like me?" he teases "yes, only f-for you...please."

"that's right." Joel kisses the side of your neck, nibbling at the skin whilst he finally pushes inside of you one of his rugged fingers, making your back jolt and arch. you cover your mouth with your palms, shocked by the own sound you just made. "Keep moanin' for me, little girl. let me hear how good I make you feel.." his words flood over you, as the knot in your tummy tightly turns, Joel's cologne swirling in your nostrils and getting you drunk off of it and this feeling. "so tight, baby. can't wait to feel you 'round my cock." you choke back a pathetic whine. "you like it? like it when i fuck you with my fingers and talk to you like this?" you nod, pushing yourself further onto his digits. "filthy girl, s'it turn you on when you're fucked out on an old man's fingers?"

"yesㅡ god, yes, please, joel, please, 'm so close." but then it all stops. you whine at the sudden lack of feeling, but you open your eyes and see Joel stand up.

your vision was hazy from all the tears in your eyes, and your heart felt stuck in your throat, but you watched the man discard himself of his clothes andㅡ holy. fucking. shit. all of your fantasies of Joel couldn't prepare you for what was going to happen. he stood there, tall, gruff as he stroked himself. his length was girthy, almost too thick, veiny, with a pinkish, angry tip. he knew he was huge. That's what made it so exciting for him. watching you gawk at his cock, made him feel more powerful over you.

"c'mon, angel, it won't bite...open wide now. widee ㅡ there you go...good little girl." he preaises, sliding his length between your lips. it was hard to adjust, and honestly, your jaw was hurting from the first couple of minutes you had him in your mouth. but the way his lips dripped with quiet moans, 'goodgirls' and 'thats rights', it made you push back the pain. it was bearableㅡ it was worth it. "jesus christ, girl, you look so pretty, mouth full of my cock." the man laughs, pushing his length further down your warm throat that was constricting as you gagged around him. "shitㅡ gonna make me come already." hissing, he pulls out, leaving you gasping for air.

you look up at him, mascara smudged, lips swollen and blushed cheeks stained with tears and spit. "you're so gorgeous like this, baby. my gorgeous angel girl, begging for cock." he sighs, caressing you cheek before his hand slides down to wrap around your neck, squeezing it and making you light-headed. "gonna let me fuck you, darlin'? c'mon, answer."

"y-yes, please fuck m-me, Joel." joel scoffs, placing a little kiss on your forehead. with his other hand, he grabs his shaft and drags the tip along your folds, collecting all the juices that dripped from you. "fuckin' soaked for me, baby." and you hum a little 'only for you.' without stalling, he pushes in just the tip making you yelp as the sting spread through your pussy. you stare him deep in the eyes as he pushes in further, hushing you along the way. it was so bigㅡ too big. but you loved it, you loved that it was all you dreamed about and more. "I know, baby, I know. You're a good girl, you can take it." with that, he pushes in all the way, ripping through you, his precum mixing with your juices that were flowing over his cock. he thrusts in you cunningly, gripping your hips tightly and licking long strips down your neck. all you could do is sit there and take it. take it and make him proudㅡ you were paying him back, though.

"so pretty, angel, so, so pretty and tight 'f me, shitㅡ " joel moans, indulging further into you. your hips crash with his, and you try your best to say quiet as you feel his cock hit so deep, you're sure it reached your stomach. the room spun with you, you could only mutter little 'joels' as he pounded into you. after a few more pumps that familiar feeling was pooling at your core, causing you to tighten around Joel's length, which made him grunt and pull your hips flush to his "that's it, girl. come around my cock, let me feel ya squeezin' me."

you let go. bliss and pleasure take over you as your body contorts under joel, your walls fluttering around his shaft perfectly, eyes rolling to the back of your head. it doesn't take him long reach his orgasm, pumping a few more times into you before he take his cock out and paints your stomach and breasts with white, silky strands.

this all really happened.

After you both come down from your high, you cup his face in your warm palms, your stare tied to his. Joel's eyes were soft, warm, and filled with something you'd never seen beforeㅡ something that made your heart swell even more and realize what just went down between you two. "Should've done that a long time ago," he said with a soft, crooked smile, his thumb brushing against your cheek, still a little out of breath. You laughed lightly, still caught in the moment. "Yeah, you should've." His smile grew, and he leaned in again, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "You know this changes things, right?"

"I know," you whispered, feeling the truth of it all settle into your bones. "I want it to."

[mitskicain]

navi | m.list

. ⁺ . ✦ the doghouse — ken sato x reader

© mitskicain all rights reserved. the modification, translation, and plagiarism of my work is strictly prohibited.

synopsis: you head home from last night’s escapade only for him to come knocking on your door..

content warning: innuendos, suggestive, cursing and profanity

word count: 2k

· · ─────── ·{ ✐ᝰ.ᐟ}· ─────── · ·

002: bird in teeth

The aftermath of that night left the both of you, passed out in the tangle of each other’s bodies. It was hard to slip out of his grasp and when you awoke just before sunrise—his grip around your waist still tight even deep in slumber. As you picked up your clothes that were thrown carelessly on the floor, you looked back and smiled at the sleeping figure, face exhausted but basically beaming with that post-sex glow. God if it were real, you would light up like a goddamn generator. Either way, you smiled, silently thanked him for the night, lifted some cash out his wallet and were on your way.

You heard someone say something about how with one night stands, you always leave something behind—an eyelash, a shirt, your dignity at the door. The general idea was that you’d lose something every single time, thus the notion that you shouldn’t engage in these kind of activities, the idea to you always seemed so ridiculous. Sure, maybe you lost a little bit of self-respect every time you did, giving parts of yourself away like that, but you’d always take something in return. Sometimes you’d take something small and insignificant as a memento: a decorative teaspoon, a comic book, a little trinket—sometimes cash, for the cab ride back home, you’d reason (you took the train).

And in the early morning commute back: so many other women and men that shared the same look of exhaustion, sometimes contentment, more often shame—took the 5AM train with you, all doing the walk of shame. You never agreed with that phrase, somehow found it patronizing and demeaning, or maybe you just felt it didn’t apply to you. The ride back was always so refreshing. You felt reborn, energized—like a succubus after claiming a soul. This was your life, and that's how you would spend your nights, so you could spend your mornings like this: skimping through the half-empty streets in last night’s clothes and ruined makeup with a bit more pep in your step. Hell, sometimes you even skipped all the way back.

It was Sunday morning: the bar you worked at closed on Mondays and would only reopen Tuesday night, so you had a whole faux weekend to sleep away. You passed by the church on the way back and lingered slightly, watching the crowds and families clamor out. I wouldn’t be welcome there, you thought to yourself. They wouldn’t want a sinner like me. Somehow it reminded you of your family back home, in their Sunday best, rushing to get from church towards iHop. That was you guys’ tradition. At the sight of the memory, you felt something inside of you twist and churn. You brushed off the feeling and showed it somewhere deep inside of you, where it wouldn’t threaten to resurface, and continued the walk back home.

When you turned the key towards your apartment, your dogs, Lassie and Strauber greeted you by the door, jumping up at you excitedly. You patted them affectionately and opened the backdoor for them to go run around in the tiny balcony yard. You huffed out contently, watching them run circles and chase each other within the space; you grew up with dogs, can’t imagine a life where you didn’t have some sort of trustworthy companion that would stick with you through thick and thin. When you moved from the country to the big city; your dogs, a tiny suitcase, and the beat up truck were all you took. They stuck their heads out the window, panting and eyes wide—looked back at you, excited for the new life that was to come for them.

The ceiling fan spun circles above you, now sprawled out on the couch. Summers in Tokyo were hot, but you also couldn’t exactly afford the electric bill if you blasted the AC on. At least work had good air conditioning. For now, you just had to figure out a way to beat the heat until you could clock in again. You sighed and put your arm over your eyes, blocking out the sun’s glares, and slowly drifted off to sleep—trying to make up for the lack thereof from last night. You dreamt vaguely of the grass behind your grandfather’s farm, long and thick, billowing in the wind. You, Lassie, and Strauber ran up hills and picked fruit from the trees to enjoy. You napped underneath the huge cherry vines with its flowers perfuming the breeze. The countryside was boring, but it was home. Sometimes you wondered if leaving was the right thing to have done.

Your daydreaming was cut short by an abrupt knock on the door. Getting up and still drowsy from sleep, you didn’t think about looking out the peephole before opening the door to tell off whoever decided to come bother you.

“What do you want?” You bark at the figure in front of you. Only when your eyes adjust to the light do you realize who you’re talking to. You step back a little, alarmed to see him again so soon.

“Hi,” Ken smiles sheepishly through the half open door, “can I come in?”

“What the hell,” you say, a feeling of unease coursing through your body, “how did you get here- how.. how did you find out where I lived?”

He holds up your day planner, covered in stickers, sharpie doodles, and jangling keychains—it held your work card and a small sum of cash too. It must’ve slipped out of your pocket and into some crevice somewhere when he tore off your clothes last night. You scowl at the memory, impressed by your bad luck. Sighing, you unlock the chain and let him in. Lassie and Strauber barked from behind the yard’s screen door, and he jumps a little at the noise.

“You’ve got dogs?”

“No, I don’t—you must be imagining things,” you reply, a little annoyed by the question (and his presence). You didn’t like seeing the men you slept with again, they always found ways to make things weird and awkward.

Ken shoots his hands up in surrender, sensing your hostility.

“What do you want?” You ask again, sitting down the couch, opening up your day planner to figure out what other information he could've gotten. Phone number? Email? Bank account?

“I didn’t take your money,” he comments, you shoot him a look. “Unlike someone here.”

“Hey!” You answer defensively, “it was for a cab, alright? I deserve to be able to get back safely.”

“Cab, sureee,” he draws out his words, his voice carrying a playful lilt, “400 bucks for a cab?”

“It’s a long way from your place to mine,” you cross your arms over your chest, “also you ruined my underwear, I was claiming compensation.”

“What? That little thing?” He laughs, throwing his head back and wrapping his arms over his waist. “Honey, it’s not my fault that fragile little string broke—I wouldn’t expect it to hold up.”

You feel the heat creep up to your cheeks at the mention of last night again. You weren’t the same kind of person in the daylight—easily flustered and more bashful. It was like you had two different personalities living in you, constantly wrestling for control. Maybe your ex was right.

You shake your head and snap out of your internal monologue, trying to regain ground in the conversation.

“Don’t call me honey,” you sneer.

He holds up his hands in surrender again. “Sorry ma’am.”

You roll your eyes.

“Look, thank you for coming all the way to give me my day planner back. It was a- uhm, very generous gesture, but if you will, I have other things to tend to.” You escort him out of your living room and into the hall, motioning for him to leave.

Yeah, other things to tend to do. Like sleeping the entire faux weekend away, and blowing the 400 bucks you lifted on some Indian takeout. Mutton curry sounds so good right now.

You push him out the door, and wait for him to leave, but he just stands there, unmoving. Your eyebrows furrow in frustration and you pinch the bridge of your nose. What was wrong with this guy? You swear he was nothing like the person you had met last night.

“Hello? Earth to Ken? Is that it?” You ask, waving a hand in front of his face. He stands, dumbfounded, eyes wide. After a moment, he finally speaks.

“God, you’re gorgeous in the daylight.”

You’re caught by surprise by this statement, because: one, it’s Ken Sato, famous baseball player saying this to you, but also, two, you thought that it was just something he said under the stench of lust last night. Something people say just to get others to sleep with them. Like I love you or you’re so funny or whatever. You feel your cheeks redden again at his words, and he breaks out into a smile at the sight of this.

“There’s my pretty girl,” he says, “where’ve you been all along? I missed you.”

God.

“Stop,” you look away, embarrassed, hand covering the lower half of your face. “I don’t see my one night stands again, it always turns out messy.”

“One night stand?” He says, face twisting into an expression of amusement. “Well, honey, I’m more than just a one night stand.”

You cringe. “Don’t call me honey.”

Another look of surrender.

“I’m just saying,” a cocky smile stretches across his lips, “it doesn’t have to be that way.”

You shake your head, incredulous.

“Yeah, no way,” you reply, closing the door. He lunges forward and curls his fingers by the edge, fighting back.

“One date,” he says, trying to keep the gap open, “one date and if you don’t like me then I’ll back off.”

“I’m not in the mood to get dressed up and go out.” You say, straining with all your might.

“That’s fine! Then I’ll just come over to your place,” he heaves, “I’ll bring food.”

You’re leaning against the entire door frame, feet slipping from the sheer force of him, but it’s no use—he wins, the door stands wide open.

“Please?” He begs. Your head drops at the sight of him, cursing yourself for getting involved with him in the first place. You should have been more careful, should have picked another guy. Someone that was one and done and you could sweep under the carpet—not someone who would show up to your doorstep and beg for a date.

“Fine,” you sigh, feeling as if arguing was useless. “One date, that’s all you get—and then you fuck off.”

“Yes!” He cheers, fist up in the air like a child celebrating a soccer goal. “I’ll see you tonight at 8!”

You slam the door in his face, eager to get him out. Through the wall, you can still hear his excited whoops. You walk over to the yard and let Lassie and Strauber back in, the both of them making a beeline towards the entrance to sniff out the scent of the man that had just left. Once satisfied, they headed over to your figure on the couch, sprawled in the same position that you were before he came, rudely interrupting your nap. You reached down to comb your fingers through Lassie’s soft fur, long locks of reddish hair, smooth as silk. The dogs yawn and let out a little high pitched sigh.

“I know girl,” you coo, patting the two of them, “just bear with me. It’s just for tonight. Just tonight and then the weird man will leave us alone.”

Weird, you thought. Things had such a way of turning around and rearing its ugly head. When was the last time you had a date? Like a proper one that wasn’t just a precursor to sex? You rake through your memories of the previous months and find all the details meshed together, faces and voices of people blurring into one another. You’d lost track of how many people you used, or how long this kind of thing had been going on for. Deep down you knew it was self destructive, but maybe that was also the point.

I should quit, you thought to yourself, throwing your arm over your eyes again, trying to escape into sleep.

But you tell yourself that same lie every time. You always say you’d quit but you never did.

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author’s note: guys I’m so sorry for the delay 😭😭 I’ve just been released from the jaws of hell (uni) and I’ve kind of went ham enjoying my newfound freedom (finally being able to get 8 hours of sleep) also tumblr was being weird like I couldn’t reply to comments or check my messages it sucked bUT ANYWAYS WE’RE BACK SO EXPECT MORE UPDATES SOON 🫵‼️‼️💥💥💥 as always, thank you so much for supporting my work! I hope you guys continue to enjoy what I put out here 🥰🥰👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

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[daddysfangirls-marvel]

Polyamorous: Inexperience pt.1

*Bonus*

Stucky x fem!reader \ Steve Roger x fem!reader x Bucky Barnes

Warning: Smut, fluff

Polyamorous Material List

(Y/n) didn't bother knocking on the door, going straight for the hidden key and unlocking it. Already familiar with the apartment, she tosses her jacket on the back of the armchair and going into the kitchen. " I'm so sorry I'm-oh" (Y/n) quickly turned around and covered her eyes. " I'm sorry, so sorry".

"Okay," Bucky said as he helped Steve off the kitchen counter and they adjusted themselves, fix themselves. But still with flush faces, swollen lips, and ruffled clothes it was very clear what was happening. That and Steve didn't adjust himself as well as Bucky.

"I'm sorry I'm late my father kept me at the store."

" It's alright, dinner is still warm." Bucky said as he pulled out a chair for her. Steve took his seat quickly trying his best to hide his 'situation'. " Beef Stew and biscuits."

"Bread is fresh I got it from the bakery this morning." Steve said doing his best not to make eye contact. Bucky went to dish out the bowls.

(Y/n) reached across the small table taking his hand in hers. He looked up at her. "Thank you, it smells wonderful. Thank you for all of this." Steve flushed not knowing how to take the praise.

"How you're mom doing?"

"She's well, doing much better . They've recently assigned her to the tuberculosis ward. The pay is higher but the hours are longer too." The new risk was unsaid.

Steve's mother, Ms. Sarah, was a nurse and had been jumping between wards for as long as one could remember. She always went where help was most needed. While everyone thought her very admirable it was also very scary. They feard that one day she'd pick something up from one of her patients and not be able to shake it or worse give it to Steve who had a very weak health.

"She'll be working late tonight. I've already set aside some dinner for her," Bucky said as he placed the bowls on the table and returned to the kitchen.

" My father thinks I'm having a sleep over with Rebecca. Hope your sister doesn't mind being my excuse, Bucky."

"She loves you and will tell any lie you need." he said as he placed three wine glasses on the table. The two looked at him confused as he produced a bottle of wine "Pinot Noir, franch "

"where did you get that? you can't afford that."

"Well forunately for us darling this fell off the back of a truck"

"You stole" Steve moved to scold him.

"No, it literally fell off the back of a truck. I wasn't going to waste it." Bucky defened himself as he popped the cork" Don't we deserve some luxury. Something fancy for once." he pours a glass " Plus, when will any of us ever be able to afford a bottle of wine like this. We can barely afford the cheap stuff. Please, enjoy it now."

He passed the glass to Steve. He sighed and took it while glaring he brings the glass to his lips and has a sip. " Taste expensive."

(Y/n) giggled, Bucky fills her glass. He finally sits and all three of them raise their glasses. " A toast?"

"yes, A toast to us and to now. To always being together." Steve said

"We three may never part" (Y/n) said

" Damn right" Bucky cheered.

-

After dinner, the three moved themselves to the front room. Bucky and (Y/n) found themselves lost in their book, him on the floor and she on the couch, with Steve sketching them while a radio played softly in the background. He is on the couch with (Y/n).

(Y/n) was so engrossed in her book that she fell to notice when Steve abandoned his sketch and moved to read over her shoulder. Bucky watched in amusement for a few minutes as the two cuddled up to each other without even realizing it.

They curled up to each other, becoming closer and closer with each turn of a page. He also noticed how flushed each of them were becoming. Interesting.

"Whatcha reading?" She snapped the book shut, and Bucky couldn't help but laugh at how stunned they both looked. They looked like a pair of kids who got caught doing something they definitely shouldn't have been doing. "Okay, now you have to show me." He stood up and approached them, holding his hand out for the book. (Y/n) held the book close to her chest.

"It's just a book."

"An interesting book."

"What makes you think that?"

"How you cling to the cover, your flushed face, Steve's bulge." Steve quickly moves to cover his 'situation.'Bucky grinned as (Y/n) sighed and passed him the book. She moved to hide her face in a pillow as Bucky flipped through the book. " Let's see what's got you two so red."

"Bucky," Steve pleaded

" 'I should …really...get back to work.' Levi said in between her kisses but made no attempt to stop her or move her off of his lap. OH . Untying his tie she tosses it on the other end of the couch and began to unbutton his shirt as her lips moved to his neck hoping to mark her territory."

"Okay, that's enough." (Y/n) stood up and tried to take the book from him, but he held it above her head.

" he groaned as she choked on his - " the book was ripped from his hand and tossed across the room before he could even read ahead. He was shocked as he looked at her "What the fuck?"

"Sorry, I just -sorry."

"It's okay, I was just teasing. I'm sorry."

"I overreacted."

"You think." That earned Steve a pillow to the face. Bucky sat on the couch beside her. "where did you get that book anyway?" He asked

"Discount basket."

It took a moment, but the three of them began to laugh. They laugh hysterically for several minutes. Only stopping when they were finally out of breath.

"Getting dirty at a discount"

"Shush, Buck"

"Why'd you throw it?" he asked

"Wasn't a good read," she said, shrugging.

"Really, you seemed quite interested in it. Both of you."

" Mom won't be back until tomorrow morning," Steve suddenly said, gaining the attention of the two—one in confusion, the other in shock and joy. " we have the place to ourselves."

He took note of her confusion, and he began to stutter, " We-we could do it. Since we're al-lone."

Still confused.

"Sex. Steve is saying he's ready for sex."

"Oh," her voice reached a new pitch.

"We don't have to. Not really we-"

"Okay, I think I'm ready too."

They both turned to Bucky.

-

After talking some more in the front room, the three moved into the bedroom. Bucky took Steve into the bathroom to help him get ready, leaving (y/n) alone. (Y/n) had removed her dress and stockings and was now having an internal debate about whether she should take off her slip as well leaving her in her underwear.

She quickly lost her decision as the door opened, and the two stepped in, Bucky in his pants and tank top and Steve with a towel around his waist.

"Hi," she said

"hi," Steve returned.

Bucky sat at the desk, and Steve and (y/n) stood in front of him, waiting for instructions. Inexperienced students waiting for their experienced teacher.

" I want you two to be comfortable and enjoy this. You should experience each other first."

"You just want to watch us," Steve scoffed, crossing his arms

"Yeah, you're a perv." (Y/n) agreed.

"Sure am. Now put on a show for this perv."

And confidence is gone. The two just stood there for a moment, fidgeting. It was Steve who got the courage to make the first move, asking to kiss. Bucky watched as the two kissed, starting off as gentle and sweet before progressing into a more heated kiss. He took note of their hands (Y/n)'s hands, pulled at her slip, and hovered over Steve's chest. His hand gripped his towel. Both seemed eager yet afraid to touch.

"You can use your hands." He encouraged. (Y/n) was the first one to move, putting her hands on his shoulders. She pulled him closer before suddenly pushing him away. Steve had quickly thought he had did something wrong and stepped back further ready to apologize before he realized she was just removing her slip.

Quickly stepping out of it, she reaches Steve again and-

"What is that?" Bucky asked, interrupting and reminding them they weren't alone. They stepped back from each other. " What are you wearing? What is that?"

"My girdle?"

"When did you start wearing a girdle? I've never noticed."

" I've... I gained some weight in the back, and I've been having trouble...This slims me out." she kind of wished she kept her slip on now not liking where the attention was going.

"You don't need to slim out," Steve said. "You're beautiful."

"Thank you." She decided to keep the comments about how this beauty fit her clothes a bit too tight to herself. Now was not the time for that. Plus they couldn't help anyways.

" How about we take it off," Bucky said, motioning her over. As she stepped forward, he tugged on her girdle and was surprised to find how tight it was. Giving it a few more big tugs it finally came off. " Much better".

She gasped as he kissed her stomach, fueling the heat that was growing in her stomach.

"you should move to the bed."

"Okay." She moved to the bed, pulling Steve with her. She connected their lips again with far more eagerness than before, her hands feeling aimlessly against his flushed skin, gripping and pulling at anything she could get her hands on. Steve left himself to her mercy, letting her take whatever she wanted, simply breathing her in, accepting everything she gave, feeling the heat between their bodies.

"Take off the rest," Bucky called attention to himself. " If you want to actually do it, you need to take off the rest."

No longer shy, the two eagerly shed the last of their clothes.

In the year since their physical relationship began, the throuple had had several intimate moments that involved heavy petting, hands, and fingers and clothes. They had never removed each other's clothes. Some form of fabric was always between them.

Until now.

(y/n) stood shyly, chest red, nipples hard, and a wetness between her thighs that would have had her embarrassed in any other situation. But right now, she was busy eyeing Steve.

Steve stood more like a soldier, chin up, chest out, and head forward. Standing at attention, much like his cock. Which stood tall and wrapped. His stance was more so helpful with his heart rate and breathing. The moment (Y/n) removed her clothes, he lost his breath and feared he'd have an asthma attack before they could even start and ruin everything.

Bucky saw this, the way Steve was breathing through his nose and clenching his hands at his side, clear signs of fighting an oncome asthma attack. He decided to step in a bit more.

"Alright, Stevie, lay down." He was quick to follow instructions. Laying across the bed. Bucky took (Y/n)'s hand and led her to the bed. Helping her up and to straddle Steve sitting on his thighs. He sits next to them.

"Now listen, doll, I'm about to teach you something very important," he said to (y/n) as he kissed her nose. He then pulls a square package out of his pocket. She reaches for it, but he pulls it away. " What is is?"

"A condom?"

"Yes, and I'm going to teach you how to put it on Stevie here, okay?" she nods. " Mind being our test dummy punk." He leaned down to kiss him.

Opening the package, he hands it to (Y/N), and they handle it together. Him placing his hands over hers.

Steve gasped as they touched him, slowly stroking him. " Make sure he's tall and stiff for us." He moaned as they swiped his tip, which was leaking pre-cum. Bucky watched as (Y/n) sighed slightly, licking her lips. Something to explore at another time.

"And now, we're going to pinch the tip and roll it down." Steve closed his eyes tossed his head back and held his breath. They rolled it down all the way to the base and gave it a squeeze.

"Ta-da, you do so well," Bucky said as he leaned down, kissing Steve's neck. "Almost there."

He kisses (Y/n) neck. His fingers went down, and she gasped as she felt him touching her lips. She was more than wet enough.

"Are we ready?"

(Y/n) and Steve nodded nervously. He let go and stepped back, sitting at the desk again. They looked at him, confused.

"This is for the two of you. I'm just watching." Bucky said," Or I could leave and give you some privacy if you'd like?"

"NO" they both screamed.

"Please, no," Steve said, his breath starting to pick up as he sat up

"Please don't go. What if we do something wrong?" Syn said

" I won't go," Bucky said. " And do what feels natural. Follow your instincts and ask if need be. You'll be alright."

They two looked at him nervously, and he just nodded. They both turned back toward each other.

"Hi," they whispered to each other.

(Y/n) took a deep breath before lifting her hips. Steve gasped as she took him in her hands. She held her breath as she started to slowly sink onto him. Steve gasped as the tip slipped in the warmth, wetness, and tightness. (Y/n) whimpered as he slipped further in.

"STOP" Steve shouted breathlessly as he reached up, gripping her hips. " Fuck, please stop. I need to breathe."

"oh, oh no. Are you having an asthma attack? I can get off."

"No." Steve stopped her from getting up, gripping her hips tighter." I just need a moment to breathe. To catch my breath."

"Steve," Bucky spoke up. " You can stop here."

"No, I don't want to. I just need a moment, please."

"Okay, okay," (Y/n) leaned down, kissing his cheek. "Take your time."

Fortunately, he only needed a few minutes before he thought himself read (her thighs were starting to burn). She sunk the rest of the way down, taking all of him. Steve whimpered and dug his nails into her hip.

"Can I move?" (y/n) asked

"God, yes, please, yes." closing his eyes and tossing his head back.

She did as told. Slowly, she started going up and down, bouncing on him and moaning softly. She leaned forward, placing her hands on either side of his head. She continued to bounce. The sound of moans and skin slapping filled the room.

The site, the sound, Bucky couldn't help himself as he slipped his hand into his pants, finding his already leaking cock. He bit back a moan as he began to stroke himself as he watched (Y/n) start to bounce faster.

" I -I want a kiss," (Y/n) asked, still bouncing on Steve." Please, can I have a kiss, Stevie?"

He opened his eyes and-

"NGH ahhh"

He came.

The site of her leaning over, face and chest flushed, breast so close, and then further now where they were still connected. Yeah, he came in an instant. (Y/n) stopped.

"Fuck, I'm- I'm so sorry. I don't- I didn't-"

"That was a pretty face," she suddenly said, and it was. It made that feeling in her stomach tighter and warmer. She wished it lasted longer, that she had taken a picture of it, and that he'd done it again.

"Shit" They both looked up to see Bucky slumped down in his seat with a hand down his pants and a large wet spot formed on his pants.

(Y/n) started to sit up and remove Steve.

"Doll, did you finish?" Bucky asked.

"Um, no. But that's okay. A friend told me girls can't always finish like boys." (Y/n) just shrugged it off.

"No." Bucky removed his hand from his pants and approached the bed. He pushed her back down on Steve's cock, making his whimper" Stevie, this right here" He took his hand and put it right on her clit. "Rub it in circles."

(Y/n) yelp as he touched it and moaned as he began to rub it in circles. That warm and tight feeling in her stomach started to return. Steve whimpered as he felt her tightness around his already sensitive cock. He began to rub faster as he felt the need to come again. With the tightness surrounding his cock and Bucky whispering in her ear to make her come, make her come on his cock, treat her good. Be Good.

He was coming again, and she was coming this time as well. She moaned as she collapsed on his chest, arching her back nails digging into his chest.

-

"How was it?" Bucky asked as he watched (Y/n) dap the small cuts on Steve's chest. After being spent, Steve quickly gave in to exhaustion, leaving Bucky and (Y/n) to clean him up.

"It wasn't what I expected," (Y/n) said as she helped Bucky lift Steve's hips, putting some boxers on.

"Is that good or bad?"

"Good. It was really good."

[tinalbion]

Hi! Can I please request a smut fic with Rusty Nail? When I saw that you wrote for him, I was so excited because he is so underrated!

Hey there! I've been thinking about this for so long and I am finally here with good news, I am gracing you with more Rusty smut! Something the world desperately needs, I know I do! Thank you for being patient, I know it was a hell of a wait, but I am back as much as I can be!

Rusty is very underrated and he deserves so much more love than what he gets. So I hope this will suffice for the time being! 💙✨

"I Don't Want To Miss You Like I Do" ||

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Rusty Nail x fem!Reader

𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄! Minors, DO NOT interact! Masturbation, vaginal fingering, cowgirl, oral, penetration, creampie

𝐋𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡: 4k

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You had been feeling extra lonely since Rusty had been out doing his job to support the both of you, so with your mind occupied, you figured you'd have some personal one-on-one time. Too bad you didn't know you weren't alone.

© 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐓𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐛𝐢𝐨𝐧. 𝐃𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞, 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫!

Whenever Rusty was gone for weeks at a time, that part didn't bother you in the slightest, it paid the bills and was a necessary trade-off for affording all he could provide for you. You didn’t even think he would give up what he loved doing, and you’d never want him to, but what you hated the most was the loneliness.

You'd grown accustomed to having him around, so when that first time back on the job came around, you were slightly nervous, but living in his larger home was nice and much more peaceful than staying in your city apartment. It gave you things to do with a place so large, new things to discover about Rusty that he had displayed around the walls, but for such a larger place compared to your apartment, it was painfully quiet after a while of living there. Rusty wanted you to feel at home here since you decided to stay with him, so he tried his best to do what he could to bring more of you out within the confines of the walls. He offered to set up a room just for you if you wanted it, sort of like an office or a crafting area, and he'd arrange it to suit your needs. You spent time in there when he was away, fiddling around with whatever you had set up, and you just mostly liked to sit in there and read, but today you were feeling impatient, so you placed the book down and let out an irritable sigh. 

You weren't upset with him, far from it, you were upset with yourself for being so codependent on this man. He brought out a side to you that you didn't know existed, and you were starting to feel that feeling in the pit of your stomach whenever you began to think of Rusty. It would lead from missing him and wondering what he was thinking, to wondering if he'd ever let you fuck him in his truck. You sure hoped he would at some point, you needed to ride him while he was in that seat of his–

“Oh god,” you grumbled and stood up from the chair, then you decided it was best to go and take a shower. Wash away your sinful thoughts, that's what you needed to do. You pulled yourself away from the room and weaved your way around to the shared room you had, then rummaged through the closet, your mind desperately trying to bury the thoughts you were having. 

The trickling of water felt great as soon as it hit your body, your muscles relaxed under the warmth of it, so you cranked it up just a little more to get the temperature just a bit higher. A smile grew across your face as the water soaked your hair, ran down your back, and you stood there to allow yourself just a few moments to gather your thoughts. But as soon as you closed your eyes, his face was there. You could imagine him walking into the bathroom as soon as he heard the water start running, opening the door, and just leaning against the frame, because he’d know you heard him, so you’d peek out. 

“What’re you up to, sugar?” 

You’d scoff and look up at him as you peeked through the shower curtain meekly. “Taking a shower, why?”

“Just wonderin’ why you didn’t invite me in.”

Rusty was like that sometimes; he would want to be wherever you were, wanting to touch you in every place he possibly could reach. You weren’t opposed to it, you encouraged it even, but something about his gentle touch when he was in one of those moods always made you feel empty without him here. Your fingertips ghosted over your lips and slid down to your neck -his favorite spot to kiss you- as you stood beneath the running water still, smiling to yourself. 

The impure thoughts that took over your mind were willing you to slide those fingers lower and lower, smiling as your eyes remained closed until you gently dipped them between your legs. Your vivid memory of the way his large, calloused hands handled you so well flooded back, and the way he curled those two fingers into that sweet spot made you buckle at the knees. Yours weren’t as good as his, but they’d get the job done. You let out a small moan, your breath hitched as you pictured Rusty pinning you against the cold tiles of the shower. 

“Easy there, girl, you’re so eager. Gonna take my time with you.”

Just thinking about his deep voice as smooth as pouring a glass of whiskey, it tickled your brain in the right ways when he spoke you through everything he did. Most times he'd tease you, edging you to the point you were a shaking, sobbing mess. Other times, he would talk you through it and watch you as your face contorted from feeling pure bliss to feeling complete frustration.  

“Please, Rusty, I wanna cum so bad,” you'd whine. 

“Oh you will if I let'cha,” he'd respond smoothly, knowing you couldn't do much to change his mind. 

Your head leaned back as the water sprayed down your chest, you couldn't help but grab your breast and squeeze it, playing gently with your hardened nipple. God, you needed him so badly, and you wondered when he'd be back home, back in your bed. You wanted to feel his mouth between your legs, feeling the way his facial hair rubbed against the inside of your thighs sent you into a frenzy every time, and he knew what to do to get you to cum on command. 

You wished he was here to pick you up and place you in the bed, but you had to make due until he came back. With a sigh, you removed your fingers from yourself and washed them off, then stepped out of the shower with a towel wrapped around you. The sting of sadness set in a little as you shuffled to the large bed in the center of the master bedroom, seeing how painfully empty his side was. He was already gone for a couple of weeks, and it had been a while since you last called to check on him, so maybe you would do that to ease your loneliness. But you felt so pent up and needed to feel a release in one way or another, so maybe you'd call afterward. 

As you crawled into the middle of your bed, you laid on your back and sprawled out, one leg lifted as you placed your fingers between your already slick folds, thinking of the large, rough man of your dreams. He would know how to take care of you, it's like he was easily attuned to your needs and what you preferred, and his fingers fit so well into your hole. You moaned out softly, your body moved as you rolled against your hand, wanting to feel his thick digits stretching you so well. The room was filled with your moans and wet sounds from between your legs, and you pulled those mental images to mind that made you want to descend into your orgasm, already so eager to feel the sweet relief so you could finally relax. 

What you hadn't been paying attention to was the front door opening and closing. 

Rusty had tried to call you twice, but your phone was still sitting in your office space beside the book you were reading, so you had no indication that Rusty was going to surprise you by coming back a little earlier than expected. He heard your moan from downstairs, his ears perked up and tuned into his surroundings. At first, he was a little worried by your lack of reaching out, but it seemed he'd caught you at the perfect time. He was missing you while he was away, and he already felt the growing excitement in his jeans. Slowly but surely, he made his way up the stairs, making sure he didn't tip you off just yet, and the sounds coming from you only sounded more enticing the closer he’d gotten. 

He had finally got to the doorway and he peeked inside, watching as you lay there spread out on your shared bed, touching yourself as your eyes were squeezed shut. You were pumping your fingers in and out, curling into that sweet spot as you moaned out Rusty's name over and over, wishing he was there to take care of you. It was hard for him to keep watching and do nothing, he had to have you, he couldn't wait for much longer.

His large hand slowly pushed the door open as you continued, no sound came from the hinges which would have given away his position. Instead, he stood in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe with one arm keeping him in place while the other slid into his front pocket. Damn, you looked good like this, he was always a watcher, but never to this degree. 

“Well, damn, if I woulda known you were havin’ fun without me, I woulda came home sooner,” he said suddenly, his voice still low and deep. 

Your eyes snapped open as you removed your fingers from yourself, the sudden shock of the fear of being caught electrified your nerves. But after the initial shock, you stared up at him and smiled with a hint of embarrassment. 

“R-Rusty! You're home!” You wanted to run to him to greet him, but your soaked hand kept you from doing so. “You're back early.”

He stepped up toward the bed, his head cocked to the side as his hands managed to find his belt as he began to undo it. “Well, I wanted to surprise you, but it seems you surprised me first. What'chu doin’?” 

Your face was most definitely red as you closed your legs, poorly hiding the fact that You were just touching yourself. “Uh, I was just… I was thinking of you all day, I was missing you… and I got caught up…” You confessed with a blush in your cheeks. 

“Missin’ me that much means a lot to little ol’ me, sugar.” He stepped up to the edge of the bed and without missing a beat, he grabbed your legs and pulled you toward him, which caused you to yelp out a little in surprise, but you were now face to face with him. He smiled down at you beneath the brim of his aging trucker hat, his eyes bore deep into yours. “Havin’ all the fun without me, ain't you?”

“I wasn't having that much fun, I was wishing you were here with me,” you explained, staring up at the large man. “But… you're here now, and well, I haven't finished…”

“Oh, so you want me to help you with that, huh?” He asked with a smirk, his large hands still resting on your ankles. “And so what if I do help you?” He asked playfully. “What do I get out of this if you finish?”

You knew he wanted you just as bad as you needed him, and he wanted you to work for it now that he caught you in the act. 

“Couldn't keep those pretty little fingers away, just had to get impatient, huh?” He chuckled as he lowered his body onto you, massive in size compared to you. 

You bit your lip as you reached up for his neck, wanting to play with the hair that peeked out from beneath the hat. He stopped just above you, hovering enough that if you were to lean up, he would be just out of reach. “Rusty, kiss me, please?”

He just chuckled in response, that smile you fell for immediately peeking from beneath the hat. “Oh I don't think so, you gotta earn that, sweetheart.”

You were about to whine in protest, just wanting to dote on the man now that he was back, but you barely had time to recover when he lowered his mouth to your inner thigh, kissing it and biting at your sensitive flesh that was oh-so close to your heat. The gasp that escaped was loud and sharp, but you soon turned into a whining mess the more he teased you. 

“Rustyyyyy~” You whined as you tugged at his hair, causing the hat to shift and fall off to the side of the bed. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do it.”

“You mean you didn't mean to get caught, is that it?” 

Your face was flushed at the realization that he was right, you meant to pleasure yourself but wanted to get it out of the way so you could hold off a while longer for him to get home. 

“Been so greedy ever since you were fucked,” he huffed and lowered his mouth back onto your thigh. “Give you a taste and now you're fuckin’ cock hungry.”

His lips kissed your slick folds over and over, just missing the mark of paying attention to your throbbing clit, and you swallowed a pathetic whimper that died in your throat as soon as he plunged two of his fingers into you. You hissed at the feeling of those calloused digits, curling into you and causing your walls to flutter around him. Your back arched as you rolled your hips into his hand, feeling that sweet friction that hit you in just the right way, you wanted to cry with how much you've missed him. 

“Oh my god, Rusty, please, keep going…” you sighed, your lead lolled off to the side as you removed the towel from your top half, and then you began to massage your breast as he kissed and touched you.

“You better not cum till I tell you to,” he warned in that deep honeyed voice. “Else you ain't gettin’ what you want.”

“I-I don't know if I can hold back–”

“Then you better learn real quick, sweetheart, you ain't gonna like the punishment you get if you don't.” 

You loved when he urged you, spoke to you like he did, the gravelly voice he got with you was so sexy that you could have fun just listening to him talk. You shifted and couldn't help but continue to fuck yourself on his hand, whimpering as you were stretched so good with just his fingers. Rusty then slid his tongue around, coating it in your wetness as he continued to finger you, gently playing with your clit. He sucked at it, watching as you went from a whiney mess to a blubbering mess. You twitched and your body jolted, feeling that intense pleasure on your clit, getting the friction you so desperately craved. 

“Oh, fuck, Rusty! Please!” you begged, your knees shaking as he held one of your legs up behind your knee. 

You urged him to continue, so he obliged and removed his fingers, to which you cried at the loss of feeling him inside of you. But now those had been replaced with that broad tongue, lapping away at your essence, wanting to taste the sweetheart he so desired in his absence. You could feel his facial hair scratch and tickle at your thighs, the overwhelming feeling of his stubble, his tongue, and his large hand gripping at your leg so hard was a lot to handle while your orgasm was building. 

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck–” You were at a loss for words with how well you were being treated, you'd loved how he got you so sinfully wet.

Rusty smiled as he brought his lips up to your aching nub and began to swirl his tongue around it before he began to suck at it. You cried out and thrust your hips upward, pushing yourself further against his mouth as if you could get him any closer to you, all while your hands were clutching at the comforter beneath you. 

You were so close to feeling a sweet release until his mouth harshly pulled away from you, leaving you feeling empty and aching. “Rusty, no! W-Why would you do that?”

“Told you you couldn't cum without my say so, and as much as I wanna taste you, I want you to cum while I'm inside you,” he explained, followed by a dark chuckle. 

It didn't take him long to crawl back toward you, one hand guiding himself to push against your folds, his head pushing against your clit. You squirmed and rocked against him, trying to feel him slide against your lips, just wanting anything more than the emptiness you felt right now. 

Your eyes closed, your brow furrowed, and you moaned every time he pushed against you just enough to feel just a little relief only to pull away again, and it was driving you insane. Your eyes fluttered open and you stared up at him with a look of pure frustration. 

“Rusty, pleaseeeee,” you begged him again, but you regretted doing so as soon as he pulled away from you. “Wait, what are–” 

He pushed himself up, then with a quick turn and an arm slung around your waist, you flew up against him, landing against his chest as he quickly positioned himself so you were straddling his lap as he sunk into the mattress. 

“Told you, sweetheart, you're gonna work for it.”

Your lips suddenly felt dry as you could feel his hard cock twitch beneath you. He was giving you the chance to ride him, how could you refuse him this? Your hands hold onto his shoulders to gain some leverage as you move yourself a little higher, allowing yourself to line up perfectly with him. Slowly you sunk onto him, the girth of his cock stretched you so well, it made you let out such a low sigh as your entire body shivered with the feeling of how much you needed this. 

“Oh my god, Rusty,” you groan out, your hands still placed on his shoulders. “Fuck, missed you so much while you were gone.”

“Yeah?” He asked with a wicked smirk, his hands gripped your waist as he pushed himself deeper inside of you until he bottomed out, and then those calloused fingers slid down to your thighs. 

Your hands immediately reached up and snaked through his hair, grabbing and pulling at it as his hands held you by your ass, allowing you to bounce on his cock at your own speed, but he could easily change that in an instant if he decided to. You leaned forward, wanting to kiss him, but he leaned back a little and smiled, chuckling at the disapproval plastered across your face. 

“Told you sugar, you gotta earn that. Need you to cum on me first, now start movin’,” he huffed as he leaned back against the pillow, watching you with interest as you began to bounce on him. 

He helped a little, lifting you every so often to get you to fall harder into his lap, your skin slapping in a beautiful rhythm as you cried out his name over and over again, but your voice hitched when he slipped his hand between the both of you to rub his thumb against your clit. Your fingers clasped the back of his head and neck, your nails grazing his skin while he continued to gauge your reaction. 

“Oh fuck, Rusty-” you gasp.

His thumb rubbed in increasingly tighter albeit sloppy circles, and that only caused the pleasant tingle between your legs to grow with a deeper intensity. Rusty then pressed the pad of his thumb harshly against your throbbing nub while he thrusted his hips upward at the same time, watching you as you were coming undone as he watched you intensely. 

“Yeah, you’re doin’ a good job there, wonder if I should let you cum now…” He chuckled as he saw your eyes roll back once he jerked his hips upward, hitting that spot in such a delicious manner.

“Please, oh my god, PLEASE-”

“Please what, sweetheart?” 

You shivered and bit your lip, wanting to stifle your moan so you could form a singular sentence. “Please, I wanna cum so bad. Please, let me cum…”

Rusty’s grip tightened as his smile widened. “Atta girl, love hearin’ you beg for it.” His hand pulled away from your possibly bruised hip as he reached up, his massive palm now wrapped around your throat as he pounded into you harder, faster, all while still stimulating your clit. 

You cried out, your whines and moans drowned out by the blasphemous sounds that came from your slick-soaked pussy. He relished in the sounds you made, you knew he wanted you to be as vocal as you possibly could, even in public when he would make sure you knew who you belonged to. His hands released your throat and moved away from your clit, then slid around to rest on your ass, gripping your cheeks hard as he began to fuck himself into you. He’d give you the release you so desperately craved, and the release he needed to lose himself in being away from you for all that time. 

“Rusty, I won’t be able to hold it...” you warned through gritted teeth, your hands resting firmly on his chest as you clawed your nails against his skin. 

“Guess I could let you cum on me, then,” Rusty offered through his heaving breath, still smiling up at you. 

Several more hard thrusts against your aching cunt and you were going to be ruined in his lap, you cried out while he continued to plow into you, making you take every inch you could of him as your body tensed and finally released that pleasure. You couldn’t even take the time to ride out your orgasm, Rusty was relentless and continued to take you at his unyielding pace, wanting to be able to cum deep inside of you. His thighs tensed with each roll of his hips, his body straining beneath you as your walls clenched around him.

Rusty wrapped his arms around your waist and buried himself to the hilt inside of you, coming hard as spurts of his hot seed coated your insides, his deep honeyed voice released a guttural growl as he gripped you hard. It throbbed as he held you in place, but you were too tired to move much anyway, so you allowed him to use you as he deemed fit as you lay limp in his arms.

You were both straining to catch your breath as you both lay there, your body now collapsed on top of him while his arms released the firm grip on your waist and just draped over you gently. Your head was resting on his shoulder as you attempted to catch your breath, and Rusty just lay there with his hand stroking your hair softly, rewarding you for your good behavior with the softness only you really got to see. He wouldn’t force you off after, he enjoyed the affection you showered him with during moments like these, so he allowed you to remain splayed on top of him. 

“That was amazing…” You sighed happily, your eyes closed as you listened to his heart beating. You couldn’t find the heart to pull away from him, even if he’d been gone for a while, you just wanted to enjoy it with him, no matter how brief. 

His arms wrapped around you as if to give you a hug that he hadn’t thought of giving you till that very moment, so you moved your head lazily to look up at him, your chin resting against his chest. “You still haven’t given me that kiss yet,” you huffed and pushed out your bottom lip. 

Rusty just let out a low chuckle as he always did, but he pushed himself up and slid his hand around your neck, tangling in the sweat-soaked hairs as he pulled you into a heated kiss. When you pulled away, you smiled up at him and felt content with everything in the world now. 

“Missed you, too, sugar. Next time you’re feelin’ lonely like that, I suggest you call me up.”

“And how will that help me exactly?” 

Rusty just laughed again and slid his hand down to your ass, giving it a firm slap. “Oh, I’ll think of a way.”

[piratefishmama]

Finders Givers | Prompted by @aellafreya

Curiosity.

Some may call it a dangerous thing. Some may argue for its ability to lead you to the truth of things. Some may claim it leads you to temptation, to regret, to suffering.

Steve Harrington, was curious.

He’d found the source of his curiosity while visiting a bar he’d planned on purchasing. It wasn’t a huge establishment. Or a well known one. Not exactly big bucks in the making but it was sat in a prime location atop a cellar that led to miles of underground tunnels which frankly.

He wanted.

He wanted them and not for legal reasons either. The tunnels weren’t on any official city map, predating them, Robin and Nancy, his right hand, and his researcher, found them by pure chance while on a fun little jaunt through the local libraries.

Fun being a stretch for Robin, but she needed to hang out with another woman her own age. And so did Nancy.

But he wanted those tunnels, they stretched all over the damn city, with just a little bit of work they could pop up anywhere, perfect for many a less than legal activity.

So many by-chance happenings had led him to that ratty little bi-fold leather wallet. Wasn’t even quality leather either. It looked old too, black with an embossed devil head pattern that probably came from some truck stop somewhere.

He could have just handed it in to the owner he was trying to buy out, could have even thrown it away, but curiosity was a devil sometimes. So there he was, sat down at one of the many tables in that little bar while one of his people did the majority of his work for him (honestly what’s the point of having people if they cant do your work for you?) perusing the contents and feeling more and more depressed by the second.

First, there was a wad of coupons and a single quarter in there instead of bills, which was never a good sign.

Second, a single, solitary, sad, badly rolled little joint.

Third. A single bank card with Mr E J Munson on it. Not even a credit card, just. A debit. Which statistically didn’t mean great things about this person’s credit score. Could just mean the owner was trying to avoid debt, but… doubtful.

Fourth, a stick of gum.

Fifth, a guitar pick.

Sixth, a library card, oof couldn’t even afford to buy the books.

An expired driver’s license desperately in need of renewal registered to Edward Joseph Munson, the photo made him look like he’d just gotten out of jail or some shit, his hair a terrible buzzcut and eyes too big, too dark, and too haunted to be anything else, but then that was just sometimes how those photos turned out. He could have been a totally innocent man!

It had his address on it, a few descriptors, height half an inch shorter than Steve himself, brown hair, brown eyes, male, 140lbs at point of issue (he’d been seventeen), date of issue, issuing State, along with a date of birth, clocking him at a year older than Steve, twenty nine, and… that he was apparently a donor.

And finally, a month old pay stub from a local fast food joint. So minimum wage worker at best.

It was… kind of sad really. Steve actually looked up the address on his phone, just for curiosities sake, because he was already in deep enough to look through a guy’s wallet, might as well google the poor saps address, just in case he felt charitable enough to drop it off on the way back to the high rise.

Oh there was that deep sadness some people might yell ‘I told you so’ about.

It wasn’t bad. But it sure as shit wasn’t good either. Steve knew of at least six bottom dweller drug dealers that operated out of that block, which explained the joint.

And also made him sadder about the joint, the weed probably wasn’t even all that good.

“Hey Robbie?” His long time friend and platonic soulmate turned her bored gaze over to him, she’d been playing angry birds on her phone, he could hear the war cries of those birds every time she launched one. “We done any charity this quarter?”

“Mmmmmnmnnnnoooooo?” It always looked good to the public for a rich guy like him to do charity work. Wouldn’t look too deeply into him if he was seen publicly doing good. “Unless you count telling Dustin to go wild in that nerd shop last week as ‘charity’, your child nearly emptied the damn shop.”

“Nah that was his birthday present, can’t call that charity.” He wasn’t going to reiterate that Dustin wasn’t his child. He was basically mom at that point.

“Alright, so what’re you thinking?” She sat up, turning to face him properly, putting her phone screen down on the table “Sponsoring something? A drive? There’s this cute little animal shelter in Japan called HEART I read about last month, ran by just a woman and her husband working with volunteers, could be a good thing to donate to? Helping animals is always good for PR.”

“…Those sound way better than what I was thinking, this guy’s wallet is bumming me out.” The expression on her face could have probably put grumpy cat to shame. “Pick one of your choices and do something with it, whichever you want. Imma do something about this wallet.” It didn’t have to be a big PR stunt, the fact that he was doing it on the DL as well? It always came back around all sunshine and roses because people believed it was totally selfless.

Didn’t do it for PR, couldn’t be doing it for PR, he hadn’t announced it.

It was always for PR. Always. The reaction just took a little longer to circulate and people were suckers.

“Just give it back to him? That should be charity enough. It’s like nine bucks to replace a driver’s license, you’re saving him nine bucks. Charity.”

“For someone who started out poor, you’re awful, Robin Buckley. Deal with this bar thing for me would you? I’m going to go on an adventure.” Curiosity was a powerful thing!

“Alright but if you come home with another stray I’m suing!”

“That was—”

“Seven times Steve! Seven!!” It wasn’t his fault that he struggled to see teenagers down on their luck. And four of them were two sets of siblings so it technically counted as one time per set, and one came with Nancy so—!

“Fine!” –So, he wouldn’t argue.

Empires weren’t built with throw away people who held no loyalty to you although he did have many of those on staff. Empires like his were built on the foundation of family, and while the one he’d grown up with was a little bit lacklustre, the one he’d built was perfect.

So he wouldn’t argue, he knew she loved them just as much as he did, in her own way, and that any additions would be welcomed with open arms.

—

Steve didn’t take the car. Although he probably should have, he knew at least three of his people would be following him, keeping an eye on him for safety reasons. At a distance of course but they’d be tailing him for the sake of safety.

That neighbourhood wasn’t safe. No matter if he had a weapon on him or not, it wasn’t safe for people like him.

People with visible wealth.

The watch on his wrist alone was probably worth more than some of the buildings in that neighbourhood, and it wasn’t exactly early in the day either. The sun setting made for an excellent ‘rich person in the wrong goddamn neighbourhood’ future police report.

But he made it to his destination unscathed.

The fast food joint from that pay stub. He even double checked the address on it. The chances of this Edward Munson being there were low, but that was fine, he just wanted to check it out. The atmosphere in there, the management styles, he’d hang out in the corner, get a cheap coffee and people watch for a while. See how fun Edward's work life was so he could add it to his decision making tree.

Curiosity really was one depressing little bitch baby.

The manager on staff was loud. Rude. Sexist. And he was pretty sure he’d made one of the staff cry because she’d hurried out very quickly rubbing at her face and sniffling. The temptation to put out a hit on him? High. But no, that was a lot for one asshole… maybe he’d just send Jane out, let the kid take his knees out.

She deserved a little bastard ba—

Someone beat him to it. A commotion later started by someone with a lot of hair, hair that’d been put up in a net and half hidden beneath the uniform’s god awful mustard yellow cap. It’d been two hits, the guy hitting him, and the manager hitting the floor, blood pouring from a very broken nose, spectacular.

The rest of the staff looked on in wide eyed horror, one yelping “Eddie, holy shit!” as the man pulled his cap off to reveal all that hair. “You’re so fired!”

“Didn’t need this shit show anyway! Chris an I quit, peace out assholes!!” Eddie. Eddie. Steve rose to his feet. Godawful coffee forgotten in the face of the mystery Edward, who caught his eye once before continuing on his way, all big brown frankly beautiful Bambi eyes, less haunted but still so big, full, kissable lips, and god, so much hair, going in the same direction as the blonde who’d disappeared to probably go and cry.

Eddie did need that job. He really needed that job. Steve had seen the state of his wallet. He needed that job, or at least he needed the paycheque that came from that job. Couldn’t even afford to buy his own books! He rented them, he rented books.

Jesus.

God, Robin was gonna judge him so bad for the person he was about to become.

Part 2

[dragqueenstarscream]

In relation to your Starop Library au post:

-Starscream suddenly starts going to the library more often, asking for assistance finding books all the way at the other end of the library despite already knowing where they are whenever Optimus is on staff.

-Star starts sitting near Optimus' desk, occasionally staring at him and taking care of his appearance even more than usual. (He'll deny it to the end of the Earth though)

-In some places (*cough cough* Amarica *cough cough*) the average salary of a librarian can be pretty low compared to living costs so if Starscream finds out Optimus has trouble with living costs he mysteriously gets a raise.

-Whenever Op has trouble finding someplace in the city due to being from the country, Starscream would immediately assist him. Trying to find a good coffee shop or bookstore? Need a ride home since it's dark outside? He'll jump at the opportunity to be near Optimus longer, although he'll probably act annoyed about it.

-If Optimus is in collage on scholarship (or highschool based on how old they are) and needs an expensive textbook(s), brand new copies of them are mysteriously donated the the library by an anonymous source, or Star would let him borrow his if he had it.

Sorry if these are out of character, I just like sharing my StarOp brainrot

-💌 anon

see you get it!! you see the vision!!

as for the out of character worry, remember that, in some iterations, starscream was actually a very different person before the main war happens, like in skybound. since this is an au where nothing goes horribly horribly wrong and nobody dies, i think we can play with that possibility here. anyway!

- he would. he absolutely would. he'll ask for the same book several times even when he should know where it is by now. he thinks he's so sly, but optimus caught onto what starscream was doing a while ago. he just plays along because he thinks it's cute.

- i could definitely see starscream switching his usual study sessions from his dorm to the library so he can be near optimus. it's no coincidence that he also wears nicer outfits and fixes up his hair on his study days. maybe he'll throw on some jewelry if he's feeling especially fancy.

- i imagine in this au, optimus is working at the library to help with paying tuition while the rest of his money goes to food and rent. starscream comes from a family rich enough to afford the full ride, so he's a little shocked. cue a "mysterious donor" paying rent for optimus and his roommates. i wonder who that could be!

- starscream knows a good opportunity when he sees one. if optimus is looking for a nice place to treat himself with his christmas bonus, starscream has a recommendation. new movie out that optimus wants to see? starscream knows the best theater and can pay for the best seats. optimus needs a ride back to his apartment because his pickup truck is in the shop? starscream drives him in his rolls royce. he acts annoyed, but really he's just emotionally constipated.

- college textbooks are ridiculously expensive, so if optimus is having trouble affording the pricey physics textbooks he needs... oh, wow! someone donated a bunch of physics textbooks to the library! how kind! definitely without any ulterior motives of any sort!

also, what would their names be in this au? i imagine optimus' would be orson ryan pax, but he always goes by ryan or orion because he sees orson as an old man's name. what about starscream? something fancy and british probably

[yazmarina]

i wanna roll with him, a hard pair we will be

zak o'sullivan (f2) x fem!reader

your best friend is a monaco race winner. you find out winning turns others into totally different people

warnings/notes: smut, mutual masturbation, dry humping

a/n: this is very self indulgent okay let me have my zak moment,,,and this turned out much dirtier than expected LMAO okay bye

.

You weren't even supposed to be here. The flight, accommodation, and paddock pass were almost too much, and you debated just dropping the plan altogether.

But Monaco is special to a lot of racing drivers. Symbolic in the way that it holds history and is the place of many victories. It's special to him.

So, you bite the bullet, book the tickets, and grit your teeth through the exorbitant amount that turned up on your credit card record. You only live once, live in the moment, viva la vida, whatever.

You're here now in Monte Carlo, in arguably the best seat you could afford with what you had after months of saving and weaseling a loving loan from your parents. Watching the race. Watching Zak.

You arrived early this morning, rushing to your hotel, and packing what you needed for the day. You tried to get some shut-eye, managing to get barely three hours of sleep. And then off to the track you went.

Zak doesn't know you're here. You had to lie through your teeth to your own best friend. You told him Monaco just wasn't in the cards and that you'd see him race some other time. In Silverstone, maybe, or Monza.

He has no clue that you're sitting here, with bated breath, as the lap count ticks down with every minute. Zak is leading but he hasn't pitted yet, and they're about to enter the second to the last lap of the race, and what the fuck are they doing not pitting him yet?

Then it happens, almost too quick for you to register. The large screen in front of your section shows a collision. Yellow flag. Virtual safety car.

You're confused for a moment, shocked exclamations erupting around you, but then you see it happen. Zak pits in the midst of the safety car, rushes out, and comes out a second ahead of the whole pack.

You don't even notice how loud you gasp as you finally realize what's happening. One more lap to go and Zak is leading.

The seconds seem to tick by awfully slow yet the race is coming to an end right before your eyes. The checkered flag waves and he crosses the line and the crowd erupts in cheers, mixed with disbelief and genuine awe.

His team gambled and he walked away with the jackpot.

Zak O'Sullivan, Monaco race winner.

Everything played out in one big blur after. You were clapping, then you were crying, running, squeezing through people, pushing, praying that you get to the paddock unscathed.

You pause for a second in front of a screen to watch the champagne spray around Zak on the podium. He's beaming, still in awe himself. You feel the tears come once more and you sprint through the throngs of people and down the streets of Monte Carlo.

You arrive at where the team support trucks are, growing nervous with each step. You came alone and sure, some of the ART people knew who you were, but without Zak, you're feeling a little lost.

You stop in front of the ART truck and it's quiet, as you expected, with all of the employees probably down at the podium celebrations. A pair of personnel clad in the team kit exit the vehicle just as you contemplate contacting Zak's trainer.

"Hi," one of them greets, a sprightly young woman around your age greets. Probably one of the communication people.

"Are you here for Victor or–"

"Zak," you rush out. "I'm ______, his friend. I've gone with him back in Bahrain and Jeddah this year, but I came just this morning so..."

"Oh! Yes, it's you. I remember now, Zak's friend, yeah," the other cuts in. "He was pretty bummed out today, saying something about how you couldn't make it?"

You feel the heat rise in your cheeks. "Yes, that's me. I wanted to surprise him."

"Well, consider me surprised."

You turn around, your heart leaping into your throat. Standing there is the best friend himself, drenched in champagne and holding his winning trophy to his side.

Zak rushes to you and pulls you into a hug, handing off his trophy momentarily to the employees. You feel his arms circle around your waist just as you feel the rest of your tears fall.

"I'm so proud of you," you whisper as you bury your face into his shoulder.

"I thought you couldn't make it," Zak says, pulling away slightly to peer at your tear-streaked face. "But my luck just keeps getting better, huh?"

You meet his eyes and you can see the sparkle of victory in his irises. He grins down at you and pulls you in again, swaying you from side to side.

"Zak, we need a bit more media from you," comes a voice calling out from further down the paddock.

"I'll be a minute!" Zak calls over his shoulder, slipping his hand in yours. "Take my trophy with you but be careful!"

You giggle, glancing behind to see the ART personnel shake their heads in disbelief.

"Come here a second," Zak says, pulling you toward the entrance to their makeshift motorhome for the weekend.

You step inside, familiar with how the interior is, having seen something similar from when Zak was still in Prema last year. You're usually not allowed inside, but riding off a win, you suppose no one dared argue with Zak.

The door shuts and Zak turns to look at you. His eyes scan your face, a smile growing wider on his lips.

"You're here," Zak states as if still not believing it.

"I'm sorry I lied," you admit sheepishly. "I wanted to surprise you, maybe comfort you if the race doesn't go as planned."

Zak chuckles, stepping closer and taking your other hand. You take a good look at your best friend and you feel yourself tear up again.

"But I'm here to celebrate your first podium, a win in Monaco, instead. How about that?" You finish, letting out a breath as Zak takes ahold of your face, leaning in to kiss your forehead.

"How about that, indeed," Zak repeats, tilting your head up so you're looking at him.

You're quite familiar with how success can make you do uncharacteristic things. It makes you reckless, unboundedly giddy. Drivers lock lips with their significant others in front of the camera after a win. Shirts discarded. Champagne poured down their bodies.

Oh, but you're not Zak's girlfriend. There are no cameras.

But you taste the champagne just the same as Zak pulls you in, kissing you with so much force it drives you back against the door.

You reach behind you, still having the presence of mind to turn the lock and bar anyone from walking in on you and Zak.

You grab at the half-undone collar of Zak's race suit, tugging the zipper down in one fell swoop. Zak pulls away, long enough to shrug his suit off, just enough so it hangs under his hips.

You understand now, that underneath it all, success makes you horny.

"Zak," you begin. "What...wait–"

Your best friend pauses, breathing heavily, hair mussed up and lips shiny from kissing you.

You'd be lying if you said you didn't want him with every fiber of your being.

"We can stop," Zak offers, reaching out tentatively. He brushes some strands of hair away from your face.

"I just...I was really lucky today and I thought maybe I should just gamble one more time," he explains, trailing his fingers down the side of your face, to your neck, fingertips lightly brushing against your collarbone.

You get it. Or you think you do. He wants you, too.

You pause. You turn it over in your head for a second. What this means for the both of you. If you do this, you step out of this truck as something different from when you entered.

"Come here," you whisper, grasping the back of Zak's neck before leaning in to kiss him again. He groans, large hands finding your waist as he pulls you flush against him.

You can feel him poking through his fireproofs and you moan into the kiss, grinding hard against the stiffness. Your dress hikes up as you wrap a leg around Zak's waist.

"Fuck," he curses. "I didn't...god, have I had a boner all this time?"

You giggle, rubbing even more on Zak. He groans, throwing his head back, his hold on your waist almost vice-like.

"Winning does that to you," you whisper, kissing along his defined jawline.

"My race winner," you say right next to Zak's ear, biting down on his earlobe after.

Zak buries his face into the crook of your neck, rutting against you, desperate for release. You thread your fingers through his hair and tug lightly, whimpering as the friction through your underwear increases.

"Oh god, look at us," you mutter hurriedly. "Grinding and humping like a bunch of horny school kids."

"I'm gonna cum," Zak warns, pulling off slightly before reaching into his fireproof bottoms. He pulls his length out, pumping furiously.

You pull your dress all the way up to your stomach, tugging your underwear away just enough to let Zak have a view of how drenched you are. Your fingers reach down to circle around your clit as Zak continues to jerk off.

"Cum in them," you offer, gesturing to your panties. "I'll keep it on the whole day."

Zak's mouth hangs open as he finishes all over his fist and into the fabric of your underwear, the delicate material catching his sticky release. The sight of the mess pushes you over the edge yourself, your knees buckling slightly as you try to keep yourself upright through your euphoria.

You retract your hand from between your legs, panting and noticing you've worked up a sweat, as if you had just gone for a long, very sexually-charged jog.

Zak looks at you and smiles, taking your soiled hand and licking your fingers clean off. He winks as his lips let go with a pop! and you reach over to smack him in the chest.

"Naughty," you grumble, though you're grinning just as wide.

"I know you are, but what am I?" Zak taunts, pressing a kiss to your lips. You sigh against it and savor it all: Zak's touch, the smell of champagne on his skin, and the glow that seems to envelop you two now.

"They're probably looking for you," you whisper, kissing the corner of his mouth.

"I'll be back," Zak reassures, stepping back. He stills for a moment and takes the image of you in once more before kissing your cheek.

"Wait here, yeah?"

[epochofbelief]

Strictly Confidential: A Feysand AU

Chapter One

She's a law student turned confidential informant. He's a prosecutor with only one goal: bringing down her boyfriend for illegal activity . . . What could go wrong?

Hi everyone! Here's chapter one. I hope you enjoy. Let me know if you're interested in being tagged. Any thoughts on the story are much appreciated, too!

Chapter One

Feyre collapsed against the wall as soon as class was over. Sweat dripped from her temples, sliding over the layer of concealer she had plastered on that morning. She wiped her forehead, swearing to herself once again that this would be the last time she allowed Tamlin to drag her to a Crossfit class.

Even though she had made and broken that same mental promise to herself three times a week for the past six months.

As she guzzled from her near empty water bottle, Tamlin slung a sweaty arm over her shoulders, his skin against hers slick. Oily. “Got any of that left?” Tamlin asked, already reaching for the water bottle.

Feyre sighed, handing it off to him. “A few drops.”

He knocked it back without another word. Not an appreciative smile. No thank you, Feyre. Not even a nod of gratitude for the water he had taken from her.

As she followed Tamlin out of the warehouse where the Crossfit classes were held, Feyre made another vow. The first of its kind, but perhaps with more resolve behind it than the one she had made only moments ago.

She was going to break up with him this week.

Feyre trailed Tamlin through the parking lot, eyes on the back of his neck, his blonde hair stuck to it with sweat. Her boyfriend of over a year had fallen into conversation with his best friend, Lucien. Lucien was also a regular at these Crossfit classes, but had met Tamlin through work. Tamlin had hired Lucien as his Director of Operations at his company, Spring Solutions. Five years later, the duo were best friends.

Lucien climbed into the passenger seat of Tamlin’s expensive truck, leaving Feyre to haul herself into the back as usual. Tamlin swung into the driver’s seat and made short of work of getting the vehicle out of the parking lot and onto the highway that would carry them back into the city, back to the building where Tamlin and Feyre shared an apartment and Lucien lived a few floors down.

As the two discussed something about work—a topic Feyre didn’t particularly care about—she thought more about the terrifying new task she had set for herself.

Breaking up with Tamlin wouldn’t be simple.

Because it was her life, of course, and things were never simple.

She had shared an apartment with Tam, who was nearly seven years her senior, since the beginning of her second year of law school. Now, a month into her third and final year, their lives were fully intertwined. Feyre paid a few hundred dollars of rent each month, but Tamlin footed most of the bill. The downtown apartment was expensive, something Feyre could never afford on her own thanks to her law student’s budget.

She rarely paid for meals, either. Tamlin subscribed to one of those ultra-healthy meal services. A week’s worth of dinners delivered to their door every Monday morning. Feyre cooked them on study breaks, and the two would usually share a quick meal before Tamlin logged back on to work in his home office and Feyre returned to her books.

Most of the furniture was his, as was the art on the walls. The kitchen utensils, pots, pans. The bed they shared. Everything.

If Feyre moved out, she would have to return to her father’s house or increase the amount of student loans she had already taken out that semester. Neither option sounded appealing. She had lived with her father and her two older sisters her whole life—all throughout her undergraduate studies and until the end of her first year of law school. How she had made it so long trapped in that house, caring for her family in much the same way she cared for Tamlin, Feyre had no idea. So when Tamlin had proposed the idea of moving in together, she jumped at the chance. Didn't think farther than Get me out of my childhood home.

She hadn't considered what would happen if things didn’t work out. If she decided he wasn’t the one for her anymore.

She had gone straight from her father’s house to Tamlin’s apartment, and had fallen into Tamlin’s lifestyle, even if she still wasn’t quite used to it.

At least the bed in the guest room was hers, and the nightstand and the few books she had taken from her father’s house. Her painting supplies.

“Babe?” Tamlin’s voice scattered the plans she was fruitlessly trying to cobble together in her mind.

“What?” She inquired, blinking up at her boyfriend.

“I asked if you wanted to get dinner out tonight.”

Feyre bit her lip. She had already put off studying to come to Crossfit—if she didn’t get home soon, she would have to burn the midnight oil to get all her reading for class done at a decent hour.

“I really have to study,” she said quietly, praying he wouldn’t try to convince her to come to dinner. Because he would never let up and she, inevitably, would give in.

At Tamlin’s sigh, she tentatively tried again. “I’m really sorry! I wish my professors didn’t assign such long readings, but I can’t change it.”

He didn’t say anything.

“You know I would come to dinner if I could. I would much rather do that.” The words weren’t new—she’d used some variation of them numerous times over the past year and a half. They had almost lost all meaning to her, but she’d found this was the best combination to keep Tamlin happy: apologize, provide an excuse that was outside of her control, and assure him that he would always be her first choice.

“Alright. We’ll drop you at home and come back later.”

Feyre choked back her sigh of relief. “Sounds good. Thanks, babe.”

Lucien’s eyes met hers in the rearview mirror—one ginger eyebrow cocking slightly. Feyre looked away, gaze fixing on her lap.

Twenty minutes later, she waved at the car as it sped down the street toward Tamlin and Lucien’s favorite sports bar. With any luck, Lucien would get him drinking beers and talking about work, and she would have at least three hours to herself to shower. Study. Maybe even time enough to feign sleep by the time Tamlin returned.

And indeed, she managed to accomplish everything she needed to do just before Tamlin came stumbling into the apartment hours later. Feyre shut her eyes tight from her spot on the right side of the bed, her fledgling plans swirling through her thoughts until she well and truly drifted away.

-----

The next morning, Feyre gazed at herself in the mirror, turning this way and that to make sure every inch of her suit was clean and pressed to perfection, not a wrinkle in sight. The black jacket clung to her narrow frame, the pencil skirt she wore beneath it as flattering as a skirt that cut her off just below the knee could be. Her golden-brown hair fell in loose waves just past her shoulders, watery blue eyes popping thanks to the brown mascara she had applied.

“You look amazing,” a voice from behind her said.

Feyre turned, smiling at her boyfriend despite all the promises and plans she had made the night before. “Thanks, honey.”

“What’s the occasion?” Tamlin asked, striding forward and placing his hands on her hips.

Feyre stepped back, grinning up at him. “No touching. I have an important networking event with my firm today and I can’t get all wrinkly.”

Tamlin held up his hands, backing away a step. “My apologies, Ms. Archeron.”

Feyre smiled. Tamlin wasn’t always awful.

Just most of the time.

“So when can I expect you home today?”

Feyre sighed, grabbing her backpack and purse and brushing past Tamlin, striding out of the closet and into the master bathroom. “I’ve got a full day of classes, and then this networking event at six. I’m not sure how long it will go, but I’m really hoping to be back by eight.”

“Just as well,” Tamlin said. “I’ve got a late night at work—probably won’t be home until after ten.” Feyre nodded, and Tamlin followed her out of the bathroom, through the bedroom, and down the hall to the kitchen. Feyre grabbed the smoothie she had made earlier that morning and tucked her lunchbox into her backpack.

“Have a good day, honey,” she said, pressing a kiss to Tamlin’s lips. He nipped at her lower lip, green eyes sparking. But Feyre just smiled, retreated, and didn’t breathe deep until she made it to the hallway, door automatically locking behind her.

This week. She was going to do it this week.

Feyre’s day dragged on in one long, miserable slog. She got cold-called by her professors in two of her classes, but she managed to answer most of the questions correctly, her heart thudding violently in her chest all the while.

Cold calls and the Socratic method of teaching were one of her least favorite parts of law school. Most professors gave no warning to their students before they called their names, subjecting them to several questions of the professor’s choosing. If you didn’t know the answer, they might move on. But some waited for you to at least attempt to respond, while the class stared and stared and hands jumped into the air all around, telling you that they knew the answer, that it was obvious. Answering a question correctly felt wonderful—but answering incorrectly usually caused Feyre’s cheeks to burn a bright red.

It didn’t matter how many of the randomly determined “calls” Feyre endured—every time a professor spoke her name, her hands started sweating, her heart rate climbing up and up and up until the professor moved on to another victim.

She spent a few hours at the library after class, tucked in her favorite corner. It was private, but better than sitting in the main quad where most of the law students gathered to study during daytime hours. Feyre hadn’t spent any notable length of time in the quad since the first semester of her 1L year. As her relationship with Tamlin progressed, the few friends she had made faded away as Feyre opted to attend the fancy dinner parties and events Tamlin invited her to. Maintaining a new relationship and keeping up with her studies didn’t leave much time for anything else—not even friends. That wasn’t to mention the time she had spent at home with her sisters and father her entire first year of school, taking care of most of the housekeeping and cooking duties because the rest of her family had “real jobs” and Feyre was still “just a student” who didn’t work a regular 9-5.

Now, she felt like a ghost in the halls of the school. She would wave to her old friends if they passed in the hallways, but Feyre had long ago accepted that this would be her law school experience: sitting in the back of the classroom, answering questions if forced, and generally keeping to herself.

It was a quiet, small existence she led. Class. Tamlin. Attending whatever events or obligations Tamlin dragged her to. Studying.

After she’d had enough studying for the day, Feyre took the train to downtown Prythian, checking her makeup at least four times before the train arrived at its stop a few blocks from a large hotel and event center in the heart of the city. She started to walk the five minutes to the hotel, staring up at the enormous shiny buildings rising around her.

To think, this would be where she worked full-time in just a few short months.

Thanks to competitive firm recruiting, Feyre had had her post-grad job lined up since the summer. She would be starting as a junior associate at Hybern & Night LLP, one of the largest and most powerful national firms in the country. Jobs at Hybern & Night were hard to come by, but thanks to Feyre’s top 5% ranking at Prythian University Law School, and her ability to say all the right things under pressure, she’d scored a job during early interviewing last summer.

The firm occupied the upper floors of one of the tallest buildings downtown. Tonight it was holding a networking event for its partners, associates, recruits, and other lawyers in the community.

She could have skipped the event, but her career counselor had emphasized how important it was to immerse herself in firm activities as quickly as possible—it would make her transition from student to junior associate much smoother, and allow her to make connections with more senior attorneys and partners who might be willing to provide projects for her to work on when she started.

So, she was here, clicking down the shadowed streets of downtown Prythian, gearing herself up to rub elbows with some of the city's wealthiest attorneys.

Some day soon, she would be one of them.

Feyre tugged her coat closer around herself, the chill in the air signaling autumn’s impending arrival. A block away, the windows of the event center glowed warmly in the shadows of the buildings around her. She increased her pace, and soon found herself ensconced in a world of cocktails and arguments. Feyre made a beeline for the refreshments table. She could certainly count on attorneys to ensure there was an open bar at events like this. She seized a glass of red wine and cast her gaze around the room, but didn’t recognize anyone. She had interviewed with at least five of the attorneys from Hybern & Night in order to get her job, but they were nowhere to be seen.

Feyre thanked the man who served her the wine, swallowing back memories of her own time spent as a bartender at Humane, one of the filthiest hole-in-the-wall bars in all of Prythian. She would have preferred talking to the bartender—less posturing required—but forced herself to skirt around the room, looking around for someone to engage in conversation.

She had almost completed a full lap when an enormous man leaned against the wall just in front of her.

“You look lost,” his deep voice rumbled, light brown hair sliding over his forehead, pale green eyes gazing down at her. His cheeks were flushed—probably from the alcohol—and as his eyes slid over her, Feyre was glad she hadn’t yet removed her coat.

“Not lost. Just—” Feyre broke off, shaking her head. “Feyre Archeron,” she said, offering a hand. “I’ll be starting as a first-year associate at Hybern & Night next August.”

“Jax Smith,” he said, an enormous hand encompassing hers. “I'm in my eighth year at Hybern & Night. Hoping to make partner next year. It’s nice to meet you, Feyre.”

Feyre swallowed, taking her hand back and sliding it into her pocket. “You too.” She cast around for one of her pre-prepared questions: So how do you like working at the firm? Any advice for 3L students preparing to enter the workforce? How do you survive the eighty hour workweeks year after year after year? Is the money worth it?

Luckily, Feyre didn’t have to resort to any of her questions, because Jax spoke for her.

“You look awfully young to be a 3L,” he commented, gaze sliding up and down her body.

Feyre cocked an eyebrow, a chill trailing down her spine. “I’m twenty-three.”

“That’s young.”

Feyre gritted her teeth. This was certainly unprofessional. “Not too young, I hope,” she said, forcing a smile. This man was going to be her coworker. She couldn’t just turn around and flee. “I’ll be twenty-four this December,” she said brightly. “Practically collecting Social Security.”

Jax didn’t smile. Only narrowed his eyes like he was trying to see through her coat.

Feyre swallowed another gulp of wine, and as he inched closer, she realized that the alcove where they stood was mostly obscured by two of the many enormous columns ringing the event center. There weren’t any lights in this section, and no one else seemed to be paying them any attention. The rest of the networking attorneys seemed miles away, even the sounds of their voices muffled by a dull roaring that started in Feyre’s head as Jax’s gaze fixed her in place.

“And are you married, Feyre?” Jax asked, one arm resting on the wall next to her head. His gaze dropped to her left hand, wrapped around the stem of her wineglass, her fourth finger obviously bereft of any ring.

“No,” she said, backing away another step.

But her admission only seemed to encourage Jax. He slid forward, eyes focused somewhere just south of her neck, where her coat had fallen open to reveal the v-neck of her dress shirt. “I would be happy to meet you for a coffee sometime. Maybe even a drink. Tell you more about the firm, away from all these stuffy partners. We could even find somewhere quieter here. To talk.” His eyes slid to the hall that led who-knew-where, just behind Feyre, stretching off into the shadows of the hotel.

Feyre’s eyes widened, a lump forming in her throat. This man was her future coworker, her senior. He might even be partner by the time she started at the firm. To turn him down could be fatal. If he took offense, he could spin it any number of ways: She had no interest in learning more about the firm. Couldn’t care less about team-building and getting to know her coworkers. Clearly came for the wine and nothing else.

He could ruin her reputation. And that was something she couldn’t afford. Not if she ever wanted to be free of Tamlin, of her family.

“What do you say?” Jax asked, bending down, his face so close to hers she could feel his breath hot against her cheek.

“I—” Feyre started.

But another man’s voice, smooth as velvet and gentle as the night, floated into the alcove, startling Jax and sending a wave of relief over Feyre.

“There you are. I’ve been looking for you.”

[tightjeansjavi]

𝕓𝕝𝕦𝕖 𝕛𝕖𝕒𝕟𝕤 𝕟’𝕋𝕖𝕩𝕒𝕤 𝕕𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕞𝕤

𝕡𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕠𝕟𝕖

♡ 𓃗 ♡

Pre! Outbreak Joel x horseback riding instructor f!reader

A/N: as a horse girl/equestrian, this story is very special to me. I hope you all enjoy Joel+Clove/Clover (bc you’re his lucky charm) and their cute lil horsey love story ♡

~word count : 2.3k~

Summary: Joel Miller, single father; total soft dad has an astronomically enormous crush on you, his daughters horseback riding instructor.

Warnings: soft! Joel, shy! Joel, fluff, flirting, slow burn, eventual established relationship, single! Father Joel, protective! Joel, he’s so sweet your teeth will hurt! Joel, eventual smut, some angst, no y/n, +18 minors dni !

blue jeans playlist:

Austin, Texas

Joel Miller, 34; single father and a total softy, only for his kid of course. Sarah was his absolute sunshine. His baby girl. After her mom was no longer in the picture, Joel took on the full responsibility of being a single father, with the help of his brother Tommy too. Sarah was an adventurous kid. She always wanted to be outside. Whether it was hiking with her dad, playing soccer, or any other sport she could fathom. Joel would do anything and everything for his daughter. He’d lasso her the fucking moon if he could. When she wanted to try out for soccer, he became her coach. He researched all the drills, got her the best cleats he could afford, and attended every single one of her practices, and games. Yeah, you could say he was easily the most unashamedly supportive dad out there.

It came as no surprise to Joel when Sarah came to him one day after school going on and on about horses. Her class had watched the movie ‘Spirit’ that day, and she was absolutely hooked. It was the only thing she wanted to talk about when he picked her up. Joel loved to see his kid talking about the things she loved, so passionately.

“Dad, the movie had me in tears! It was such a beautiful story, I can’t stop thinking about it!”

He chuckled, bringing his arm around the back of her seat as he backed out of the parking spot he was currently in. “Yeah? Think i’ve heard of that movie before kiddo. It’s a good one.”

“Would you watch it again?”

“With you? Absolutely!”

She had rolled the window down, letting her arm rest on the side. She had purple nail polish on, her favorite color. “So Dad, what if I said I maybe wanted to look into taking some horseback riding lessons? I already grabbed like 6 different horse books from the school library! Did you know that horses can sleep standing up? They only lie down to sleep when they feel safe, and there’s usually another horse watching over them just in case!”

“I had no idea about that kiddo. You got any more horse facts for me?” He tapped his hand lightly against the steering wheel, Linda Ronstadt’s ‘Long Long Time’ crackled through the old radio in his truck. “You wanna look into getting some horseback riding lessons? Sure, sweet pea. I’ll look into it for ya.

Sarah was already pulling out one of the horse books from her bag, flipping through the pages. “Oh! Here’s one, did you know that horses have a nearly 360-degree field of vision? They have two blind spots, one directly behind them, and other directly in front of their head.” She looked over at her dad in the passenger seat, she was beaming when he said he would look into riding lessons for her. “Really? Thank you dad, you’re the best!”

“Is that why you’re not supposed to stand behind ‘em cause they’ll spook? No problem kiddo. Might have to take an extra shift with Tommy but it’ll be alright.” He spoke while pulling into their driveway and as soon as he was parked, Sarah was unbuckling her seat belt and giving him a big hug and kiss on the cheek. “I think so? Bet the book I'm reading will have all the answers! I’ll do the dishes extra this week and anything else you need help with, okay?”

He hugged her back, giving her a soft kiss on the side of her head. He loved his daughter more than anything in the world.

“I appreciate it kiddo. Whad’ya want for dinner? If you say pizza again I swear–”

She giggled as she pulled away from his hug shortly after and hopped out of the passenger seat. “I was gonna say that we should switch it up a bit, so how about some chicken fingers and fries?”

“Kiddo, you gotta get some vegetables in there! How about broccoli?”

She made a weird face at him. “Broccoli? Really dad? That stuff is nasty!”

“What if I smother it in butter and cheese?”

“Now we’re talking!”

He chuckled to himself, cutting the ignition and hopped out of the driver's seat. “Damn kid never wantin’ to eat her greens.” He muttered to himself.

Sarah had cooped herself up in her room with her horse books spread out on her bed. She barely even heard her dad hollering that dinner was ready because she was that immersed in it. The second time he yelled, she closed up the book and headed downstairs.

After dinner and a couple episodes of ‘The Saddle Club’ were watched, Joel had carried a sleeping Sarah up to her room. He gently tucked her in under the covers, kissing the top of her head before he gathered up all her books and quietly placed them on her desk. He took one last look at his baby girl, who was peacefully sleeping before he softly closed her bedroom door.

Joel found himself sitting in his makeshift office, looking up horseback riding facilities in their area. He got distracted by this neat little website called, ‘breyerhorses.com’ There he found that the website was for toy figurine horses called model horses. As soon as he recognized the two horses from the movie ‘Spirit,’ he didn’t hesitate ordering them for Sarah. He ordered one for himself as well, a Quarter Horse in a sliding stop position. He admittedly had no idea what the horse was doing, but he recognized it from a rodeo he attended way back when.

After the model horses were ordered, he was back on the hunt. Most of the horseback riding facilities in their area were way out of his budget. They also came off as being elite, a little snobby, and definitely not for beginners. He was just about to give up when he stumbled upon your website. Thank the heavens, he thought to himself as he clicked the link. Right away he was liking what he was seeing just based on the words, ‘family owned’ and ‘non-profit’ The title of your facility was ‘Dream Riders.’ He read in the bio that every horse on the property was rescued, and that you were big on horsemanship skills. He also liked to see that lessons were offered for all ages, skill level, experience, and riding style. What really sold him was how affordable the prices were, and thank fuck for that because all the other hunter jumper barns he looked at, had a starting rate of $60-$100 per lesson. Who in their right mind was spending that much on a horseback riding lesson? Not Joel Miller. Each of the horses had a little bio as well including their breed, age, and personality. He admittedly skipped over that section and went right to your bio.

He could tell just from your smile alone that you were a decent person. You had kind, soft looking eyes. The photograph you had posted was you with your horse, your arm draped around his neck, giving him a hug. Joel couldn’t deny that you were pretty easy on the eyes as well. Not that it really mattered. He was only looking to make sure that his daughter would be in good hands. It just happened to be a bonus that you were attractive. Nothing more, and nothing less. He scribbled down your name and phone number onto a torn piece of paper.

He called you the following morning after dropping Sarah off at school, holding the phone against his ear as it rang. He tapped his fingers along the steering wheel as he waited.

You had just finished bringing the horses in from being out in the pasture all night when your phone rang. You had reached into your back pocket pulling it out to answer it and of course, Javi P chose to be a dickhead to his brother, Javi G, yet again. The tall, chestnut OTTB, (off the track Thoroughbred) let out a mean squeal over the side of his stall door. His ears were flattened against his head as he pawed at the wood aggressively. “Would you cut that shit out man? You’re gonna get your grain in a minute, pal. Eat your hay and stop making faces at your brother, dickhead.” You walked over to Javi G’s stall and reached your hand up and gently gave his velvety nose a gentle pet. “He’s always so grumpy in the morning huh? Who took a shit in his oats?” You gave him a quick kiss on the nose before finally answering your phone.

You said your name first before Joel even had the chance to get a word out. “Dream Riders, how can I help you?” You didn’t have a Texas accent like Joel had expected, and he could tell that you weren’t a local by any means.

“Hey, this is Joel. Hope i’m not botherin’ you or anythin’ just was looking to get my daughter some riding lessons–”

Javi P had kicked the side of his stall door, making a loud thump with his heavy hoof.

“Joel? Just gimme a minute, yeah?”

“Uh sure–”

You pulled your phone away from your ear as you gave the tall Thoroughbred a warning look.

“What did I just say? I’m on the phone, can’t you see that? You want me to turn you into glue? Don’t think that I won’t. Kick the door one more time bud, go on. See what happens.”

You brought the phone back to your ear with a small huff. You had no idea that Joel had heard the entire thing.

“Sorry about that Joel. You were saying that you were looking to get your daughter some riding lessons?”

“Yeah, I-uh–I was. Listen, you aren’t actually gonna turn that horse into glue, are you?”

You were visibly mortified, and felt flustered that Joel, a potential new client, heard you threaten to turn a horse into glue. You lifted your middle finger at Javi P then before rubbing your hand over your face.

“Oh god, did you hear that entire thing? I’m so sorry about that. Just was scolding one of our lovely horses. I swear, I will not be turning him into glue.” You nervously laughed.

Joel let out a chuckle as he leaned back against the worn leather seat in his truck.

“Oh, well that’s a relief. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop or anythin’ like that. Just couldn’t help but hear that part, y’know?”

“No worries at all, Joel. I should have been more aware of my surroundings. Anyway, what skill level is your daughter at?”

“She’s a beginner. Never been on a horse in her life. She just came to me yesterday actually after watching the movie Spirit, and said she really wants to take some horseback riding lessons. I spent all night lookin’ for the right place and then stumbled upon your page. Thought there was no harm in given’ ya a call.”

“Ah, I see. So she got hooked by the horse girl bug right away, huh? Well I'm sure you’ve already seen on our page that we’re entirely inclusive. All ages, skill level, experience, and riding style. I happen to teach all the beginners myself so your daughter would be taught under me. If you are interested, come on by anytime tomorrow and I'll give you both a tour?

“Yeah, that was honestly one of the main things that had your place stickin’ out from the rest. That and the price range.”

“Hunter jumper barns can cost a bitch-in-a-half. I used to take lessons at one years ago. Thought I was gonna have to take out a loan just to pay for lessons alone.”

Joel chuckled against the receiver. You had a mouth on you, that was for sure.

“Well, I think I’ll definitely take up your offer to get a tour of the place. You said anytime tomorrow? We’ll swing by sometime in the late afternoon. Does that work for you?”

“I really shouldn’t swear in front of potential customers, huh? Yeah! Anytime tomorrow works. Just give me a call when you’re on your way and I'll make sure I'm presentable. Looking forward to meeting you, and your daughter, Joel.”

“Perfect, I’ll let Sarah know. She’s gonna be stoked. Thank you again for your time darlin’ and see you late tomorrow afternoon. Take care now. I don’t mind the swearin’ by the way. Got a sailor’s mouth myself.”

Calling you darlin must have just been a Texas gentleman thing, right? So why did Joel Miller have you feeling red hot like a mushy tomato, on a hot summer's day already? You hadn’t even met this man yet, and just by his voice alone, you knew he was attractive.

“You got a sailor's mouth too? Well shit, never would have guessed that. Take care now, Joel. See you tomorrow.”

You ended the call and slipped your phone back into your jeans pocket as you walked down the row of stalls. You stopped in front of your own horse’s stall. Ezra was a 16 hand high Hanoverian. You rescued him from slaughter 5 years ago and you have been inseparable since.

“Hey fella,” You gave him a good pat on his soft neck, reached into your pocket and pulled out a carrot, holding it out for him and he gently grabbed it from your fingers. Chewing the treat happily. “Do all Texas men end first time phone calls with ‘darlin'?”

Your horse nickered in response, rubbing his face against your shoulder affectionately.

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I was gonna say bud.”

You gave him a good scratch behind his ears and one more carrot.

You were definitely a little too excited to meet this Joel Miller tomorrow. You couldn’t wait to put a face to his name.

Joel was feeling the same way about you as well. Except, he luckily had your website photo to go off of. Man, were you a pretty little thing.

Part 2:

[digitalsarbeswar2001]

[myown-worstenemy-2003]

Play It Again, Play It Again, Play It Again

A/N: Part two of the mini-series! As always I hope you enjoy it as much I did writing it! I love seeing feedback! And feel free to request something! Let me know any feedback that you have! If you feel up to it send me a request and I will do my best to give it justice!

Summary: You're invited to a party by one of your new friends. Let's see how the night ends.

Word Count: 1963

It had been a couple of months since you had broke things off with Billy. Since that you've kind of tried to keep to yourself but everyone needs someone to talk to, especially to make it around here.

What made it better was that you met a couple of mothers when you would pick up Rhiannon from daycare, and started your own friend group. All of them were around your age and their kids were already playing with Rhiannon during daycare anyway. Nancy had a brown-eyed shaggy-haired boy named Theodore. Piper had a little curly-head girl named Rosemary. And then there is Robin, she doesn't have any children but she comes and picks up Theo or Rosie every now and then, even both sometimes.

It was nice that you and Rhiannon had some friends in town finally. Especially Rhiannon, you didn't want her to be lonely.

But at this particular moment you weren't sure if you were happy that you had friends anymore.

"Come on (Y/N)! You never leave the house unless it's work or taking Rhiannon somewhere! You need to have fun sometimes!" Robin tried to convince you.

"Yeah, I'm sure I can tell you what you do everyday. Get up, get Rhi and you ready, take her to daycare, go to work, pick up Rhi, have dinner and then go to bed," Nancy said watching the kids play on the playground.

You sigh, because she was right. You don't do anything fun that doesn't surround Rhiannon.

"Who's gonna watch Rhi though? I can't really afford a babysitter right now. I can barely afford daycare as it is."

"Piper's mom is going to watch the kids, I'm sure she won't mind watching Rhiannon," Nancy suggested and Piper nodded.

"I don't know guys," you hesitated, parties have never been your thing. The last time you were at a party that's when Rhiannon was conceived and here you are.

"(Y/N), you are 24. We are never gonna be this young ever again. Just this once and if you don't like it, you can leave and we'll never ask again," Piper chimes in, sitting on the bench next to you with a book on her lap that she hasn't touch since she got here, "We all need to let loose every once and a while."

The girls nodded, you groaned, "Fine. I'll go but only for two hours. That's it."

"That'll work! You'll have fun, I promise!" Robin said excitedly.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

You were on your way to the party. Riding with a friend from work. Dressed in something more warm and comfortable than it was cute since #1 it was October and it was cold during the nights; #2 you weren't really looking for anything right now since your thing since Billy. You were just there to hang out with friends and maybe meet some new people.

As you approached you noticed that there were a lot of trucks and some haybales, and everyone else was parked on the other side of the road. You didn't even think about bringing your own chair. You figured that there was going to be enough going on that you might not need it. But past you was too ambitions compared to present you so was full of nervous at the moment.

How the hell did you do this when you were in college?

Jessica put the car into park and got out and you followed suit.

"Hey I'll see you around? Around 1?" Jessica said with a smile. You nodded and smiled back.

You stood outside of the car for a second to catch your breath.

"It's all good. Everything will be okay. Just three hours. Yeah, only three hours and then you can go home," you hyped yourself up. You brushed yourself off (like you had dirt on you) and headed toward the crowd of people gathering around the bonfire.

"There she is! I wasn't sure you were going to show!" Robin said as she walked up to you and hugged you, "Here's the rest of the gang for you to meet!"

"Everyone this is (Y/N)! Be on your best behavior!" she said, jokingly, you heard some laughing and a, 'Booooo'.

"This here is Vickie, she's my girl," Robin introduced you to a ginger with freckles. You shook her hand, "Nice to meet ya."

"You know Nancy," Robin said and you hugged her as she came up. There was a nervous looking man behind her with brown hair, Robin said, "This is her husband, Jonathan. Theo looks like him."

"I can see it," you smiled and shook his hand too. Piper came up next, "I'm so glad that you made it! We want you to have fun too."

"Thanks, it's good so far," you smiled.

"Oh yeah!" she said, she turned to look behind her, "This is my husband, Eddie. It's where Rosie gets the curly hair from."

"Hey there, I'm Eddie, like she said, nice to meet you," Eddie said, he had long wild curly hair with a denim vest over his leather jacket.

"I like your pins. Iron Maiden is the best," you said as you looked at his pins.

Eddie literally beamed, "Thank you! I collect them from music stores. These are my favorites."

"Really cool!"

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Dude, have you met (Y/N)? She's awesome!" Eddie said to Steve.

"Is this another fantasy person that I'm supposed to learn?" Steve asked. Eddie looked at him with a weird face, "No, she's real man. She's friends with Piper and the others. She over there."

Eddie pointed to where a girl was sitting by herself on the tailgate of Piper's truck. Her legs swinging as she watched the fire crackle.

"She's got to have a boyfriend here. No way that she doesn't," Steve said, looking around for someone that was looking for her, "Is she Joe's girlfriend?"

"No man, Piper said that she's single. Not really looking for anything at the moment, just new friends," Eddie explained, "Buuuuut...you should try and make more than friends."

"I can make friends with her," Steve nodded and walked toward you.

"Good job babe," Piper said as she came up next to Eddie and fist bumped him and watched what was about to happen.

Steve walked up, "Hey, this seat taken?"

You looked over to the new voice.

Not going to lie, he's pretty cute.

You smiled, "Not at all," you slid over to make sure that he has enough room to sit.

"My name's Steve," he said as he sat down, putting his hands in his pockets.

"Nice to meet you, I'm (Y/N)," you said smiling.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

God how am I already falling in love with this woman already?

"Honestly, I love new wave music! The Cure is probably my favorite from the bunch as of right now, but that changes from month to month," you said, talking to Steve.

You've been talking to Steve for what felt ten minutes but it's actually been hour. You could do this all night.

"You know, I think that-" Steve started but then a familiar song came on the speakers and you're eyes lit up, and you jumped off the tailgate, cutting him off.

"This is my song! I've been listenin' to the radio all night long, hopin' that it would come on and here it is!"

You hold out your hand, "C'mon, come dance with me."

Before Steve could say anything, you grabbed his hand and dragged him up. He tried keeping up with you but he was too distracted by you to keep up. You had a carefree smile on your face and your body was moving in ways that was very bad for his groin area in public.

As the song came to an end, you kissed him on the cheek, "Thank you for dancin' with me."

"Play it again!" Steve yelled to see if someone could rewind the tape and start it over again so he could gain the courage to ask you out.

You smiled and yelled, "Play it again! Play it again!"

You both laughed and then heard the next song play, looking at each other almost in a trance.

"I-" Steve started to say but you looked down at your watch, "I had a lot of fun tonight Steve but I'm afraid that I have to go."

"Are you sure?" Steve asked, not really wanting you to leave just yet but understanding.

"Yeah, I gotta check on my-" you hesitated, "my pet. She's not used to being alone this late."

"I understand. Let me walk you to your car?" Steve offered.

"I actually rode here with one of my coworkers. So I guess I need to find her."

"I'll help you, who is it?"

"Jessica Cooley," you answered starting to look around for her.

"Jessica? She left already. Left with Matt Hargrave about an hour ago."

"What? You're kiddin'. I guess I'll ask someone else for a ride," you said a little upset.

"I can take you home," Steve offered, really hoping that you would take him up on the offer.

"Are you sure? I don't want to burden you. I can just have Piper or someone take me home," you said hesitant because you didn't know him, but you had a feeling that you could trust him.

"I'm sure. Come on, let's get you home."

You smiled, "Okay thank you."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

You were looking out the window, thinking about something to start a conversation but you couldn't think of anything that wouldn't be considered small talk or just bad in general.

That was when Steve turned on the radio and you started singing along to (I've Had) The Time Of My Life.

It didn't take too long to get to your house, maybe three songs if you remember correctly, but for some reason it felt like it was taking a little longer than usual. And you weren't upset by it at all. It had been five songs already and you sang along to every song that had came on the radio.

But it was only when you getting ready to pull on your street was when Steve started to scan the radio, almost frantically.

"This is me," you said and Steve pulled into the driveway and put the car in park.

"Thank you for the ride home, I really appreciate it. I don't have cash on me right now, but I can run in and get some for gas?"

"It's no trouble at all. I don't want money. But if you really want to pay me back, let me take you out on a date?" Steve asked wearing a charming but hopeful smile on his face.

You smiled, "I would like that."

He smiled, "Sounds great, how Friday? Dinner and a movie?"

You nodded your head, "I would love that."

"Cool, let me walk you to the do-," Steve said and just as he said that, your song came on the radio.

"No way! There is no way that this song would play twice in one night!" you exclaimed excitedly.

"Come dance with," you said as you got out of the car. He followed you and started dancing in the headlights.

It was like straight out of a movie. Everything was perfect, the lights, the song, the weather, and you.

As the song started to fade out, you got caught up in the passion of dancing and the feeling of it, you kissed Steve.

It was just like everything else, the kiss was perfect.

When you broke the kiss he looked at you and said, "I'm gonna call the DJ right now and get that song played again right now."

You threw your head back laughing, "Goodnight Steve, thank you for the perfect night."

He smiled, "You took the words right out of my mouth."

[ts1m1kas]

Original Ask: goofy guy who loves life (aka our sweet baby boy kostas) showing a girl he likes his hometown and neighborhood, while she is on vacation and sparks fly 😏 (@findingnemosworld )

Word Count: 725 words

(author's note: nemo requests, i deliver 😉)

Ever since she was little, Y/N had always wanted to go to Greece. The culture, landscape, and food enticed her, strengthening her desperation to go to the country. So naturally, when she grew up and could go, the tickets were booked, and she was on her way.

Landing on the runway in Greece was an unforgettable moment for Y/N. All her memories about her childhood and the plans she had made flooded her mind, reminding her of how grateful she was to be there.

She collected her luggage from the airport and headed to her taxi outside. Sliding into the backseat, Y/N stared wistfully out of the window. She was finally here.

However, when she got to her hotel, dropped off her bags, and left again to explore the small city she was staying in, she realised she had no idea what to do or where to go. As she looked around helplessly, she failed to notice the man walking towards her.

“Excuse me, can I help you, I couldn’t help but notice that you look a little lost?”

“Oh- Hi, yeah I am a little lost. I just landed an hour ago and I’m not really sure what to do.” Y/N laughed awkwardly as she stared at the man in front of her.

He had longish brown hair that faded to blonde at the ends and was tied into a small messy bun. His arms were covered with tattoos, and his gold earrings glinted in the sunlight.

“How about I show you around? I’m Konstantinos but everyone calls me Kostas.”

“Really? You’d do that for me? I’m Y/N.”

Kostas smiled, “Pretty name for a pretty girl. And of course, I’ll show you around, it’s no trouble.”

“Do you always flirt with girls you’ve just met?”

“Nope, you’re the first,” Kostas said, winking at her.

Y/N laughed, and the pair set off down the street. They went into shops, walked along the beach, and finally, Kostas showed Y/N the way to the best food truck in town. He ordered them something to eat, and they found an empty bench to sit at.

“So,” Kostas began, “What brings you to Greece?”

“Well, I’ve always wanted to come, ever since I was a little girl. Everything about this place just has a certain charm. It’s a bonus that the men here are cute too,” Y/N laughed, staring at Kostas knowingly.

“It’s nice to know that people still appreciate my country, I obviously love it as I grew up here. But it’s refreshing to see others enjoying our culture.”

“Of course! I know I’ve only been here for a day, but I already know I chose the right place to visit. It also helps that I had an incredible tour guide.”

“Well, I can do you one better, how about you let me take you on a date tomorrow? I can show you some more of my favourite places?”

Y/N blushed bright red, “You want to go on a date with me?”

Kostas looked puzzled, “Yes?”

“I mean I’d love to. It’s just, what if it goes well? I have to leave at some point, and I might not be able to afford to come back-”

“You don’t have to worry about that because I don’t live here either.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I work in the UK. I’m a footballer.”

“Are you lying? Is this just you trying to convince me to go on a date with you?”

“No, I promise, look it up!” Kostas insisted.

“I believe you,” Y/N thought for a second, “Okay, I’ll go on a date with you.”

Kostas’ face broke out into a huge grin, “Perfect. I’ll meet you outside your hotel tomorrow at 6?”

Y/N nodded.

The pair cleared away their rubbish and stood up. Kostas walked Y/N back to her hotel and then stopped outside the entrance.

“Thank you for making my first day here so memorable, I appreciate it.”

“No thank you, I’m always eager to show off my home country. I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah, Goodnight Kostas.”

“Goodnight Y/N.”

The pair parted ways, and Y/N headed back into her hotel, a small smile on her face. She knew she was going to love it in Greece, she just didn’t know she’d love it this much.

[the-saltiest-saltine]

Enjoy this heartwarming fic about the importance of having reliable nondescript friends in the face of a scary situation. You and her can totally fight off a prospective attacker together, you’re sure - after all, you’ve got the power of friendship!

Yan!Chrollo x Reader

Word count: ~ 1.9k

Warnings: Yandere, stalking, implied voyeurism, implied torture

You’ve got a stalker. You know this for sure.

Wherever you go, you can feel a gaze. 

Your train rides and walks through some of the dodgier parts of the central business district after a busy day have always had their fair share of sketchy characters - it’s been a near-daily part of your life since you first came here several weeks ago - but this feeling was different. It wasn’t some junkie looking for a punch-up, no. It was specific. It was targeted.

What started as a feeling of slight watching in public, became a metaphorical spotlight in your apartment, blinding and irritating. You keep your windows shut and locked, not wanting the biting chill of the smoggy winter air to creep its way inside your residence. This doesn’t stop you from constantly coming home to find your kitchen window wound open, all these stories up. You know it’s definitely impossible for a regular man to get up here from the outside, since your front door is always locked and there’s no balcony.

You wish he’d leave you alone at the library, at least. It’s nice and relatively quaint, a much-appreciated juxtaposition from your otherwise industrial setting, and the least your stalker could afford is some privacy so you can enjoy it to its fullest.

The stare is intense, filled with neediness and darkness. You’re sure the eyes of whoever is creating it are a void, the most unusual colour of emptiness and depravity. You can’t pinpoint any particular reason why this is happening - generally, you’re pretty quiet and unassuming. You have no rich family to pay a ransom, and your organs wouldn’t be worth much. Simply put, a person like you is not worth the trouble.

Your best cure for this feeling so far has been to simply sigh, and open up your latest novel, indulging in a few chapters. The feeling subsides after a little while. Perhaps he gets bored of watching you partake in an activity so unappealing to an outside viewer. Perhaps he grabs out his own book and indulges himself, though you doubt that’s the case (-but that would be a nice thought, wouldn’t it? Imitation is, after all, the sincerest form of flattery).

Tonight, you found a card on your kitchen bench. By the looks of it, it’s not a parting message, rather the opposite. The intricate red pattern on it is almost enough to be considered romantic, but you’re hardly feeling the charm. It’s unsettling, to say the least, but you can’t even bring yourself to be scared. 

If anything, this issue annoys you now. It’s been a long, exhausting day at work. It gets uncomfortably cold if the window's left open. If someone’s going to kill you, they might as well just try already. Being stalked is so tiresome.

You don’t have enough tangible evidence to file a police report, simple sensings of a watcher not nearly enough proof to have police aid you. Funnily enough, this takes the bottom rung on the ladder of reasons why you can’t contact them. You can almost laugh at the thought of even trying. If this persists, you’ll call your friends instead.

Unfortunately, your welcome to this city has been anything but warm. 

Luckily, you’ve got one modicum of hope.

There’s a woman in your life.

She’s beautiful, inside and out. Her smiles are a breath of fresh air in this wretched city. You can’t say you’re exactly dating yet, but whatever tier below it you’ve got now is certainly better than whatever was there before. Something like gratitude, as much as you’re naturally inclined to overlook it, hits you like a truck whenever you’re together.

Unlike you, she’s not new here. She’s been a great tour guide so far, introducing you to practically every street corner, every Indian restaurant, every speck of dirt and faeces on the wrecked footpaths that the slimy Mayor neglects. It’s hard to worry about a stalker when you’re being bombarded with random questions and consumed by her laugh, echoing between the skyscrapers and into comforting mugs of hot chocolate.

The time you spend with her is precious, sacred even. You won’t let the mystery man get in the way of that.

Long before that card made its way to your residence, you did call a friend, the friend, about your problem, getting a response within two rings. You told her about your stalker, sniffling and regularly hiccupping, telling her about how you think there’s someone after you. She was practically frantic, demanding that you come over to her apartment right that instant, barking out her address without hesitation. It’s only fifteen minutes away, she assured. You got there in seven.

She flung open the door at the first knock, saying your name with relief and letting you in. You spared her most of the details as you sat on her couch, not wanting her to put herself in harm’s way. Despite your shaky insistence that you’ll be fine regardless, she gave you some pepper spray to help defend yourself, and some tips on how to hold your keys between your knuckles most effectively.

I’ll protect you if anything happens, she says, her support of you positively admirable. You know she’d try and fight him off if you were together when he strikes. 

You’re certain that your combined forces are enough to fight off a fully grown man, you declared in response - and you meant it. In fact, you added, scratch that, you’re absolutely convinced that your cumulative strength - consisting of four arms, pepper spray, and her high-pitched scream - is enough to fight off a bodybuilder pumped full of anything and everything you can get in the alleys behind the city’s numerous smoke shops. She laughed at that, but you know she still worries for you.

You can come with me anywhere if you’re uncomfortable, she said. Really, if you’re worried, just call me up. I can leave work early if you think you’re in danger, honestly. My manager is flexible enough.

Appreciation swirls around you in waves again. Naturally, you have your scepticism. It’s almost too generous, too forward, something you’re certainly not accustomed to. But alas, you’ll firmly grip whatever opportunities present themselves. She offers you what she can, and you don’t hold yourself back from accepting it with open arms.

You’ve accompanied her to the bar, to the library, to her favourite café. It’s pleasant. It’s peaceful. You’re still being watched for certain, but the ability to have a brief moment of levity whilst in her presence, something to help you forget about work and responsibilities and stalkers, is something to be treasured.

She’s so calming, so sweet, so caring…

And so, so oblivious.

You’ve accompanied her to the bar, to the library, to her favourite café. However, if you were to ask, she’d say with the utmost conviction that you were never there (and that she’d love to show you). You’ve accompanied her on her commute home, made cups of tea in her kitchen, folded dog ears in the untouched novels on her bookshelf, hoping she’ll note the romantic scenes and lines you’ve kindly bookmarked for her. 

She’s promised to protect you. She never questioned why your little whimpers died down so suddenly after she gave you her address. She never questioned how you got there so fast. If she’d been wary enough to use the location services on her phone, she would’ve been able to see that seven minutes was actually a while to arrive, considering you were a twenty-metre walk down the hallway when you’d called.

She simply ate up your little performance over the phone, and in her apartment. And, soon enough, she’ll be coming to yours. 

Yesterday, she told you about the new exhibit at the city’s museum - she went to get a glimpse of it the other day, and it looks promising.

You went to get a glimpse of it too, twenty metres behind her.

The day before, she told you about how she ordered a new drink at a café- it was absolutely to die for, and oh, by the way, did you know that café is her favourite in the city?

You inferred that much from her frequent visits there, following her routine so effortlessly that it became your own. You tried the drink out too, taking sips in time with hers, admiring her profile as she scrolled through her phone. She was so pleased to finally have an afternoon to herself, after a week of hectic shifts.

Something unfamiliar stokes inside of you as you make your observations. Perhaps it’s comparable to a parent seeing their child grow and develop, or a botanist seeing rare flowers bloom, or an astronomer observing the most uncommon and exquisite of meteorological events. It’s something like happiness, something like attachment, something like wonder, something like pride.

On the other hand, you must admit, you’re a little disappointed. She lied to you.

She didn’t tell you about the man she slept with from the bar last week. Technically, you never asked about it, considering that you weren’t supposed to be there, but you’re a man who considers lying by omission to be on an equal plane as wholehearted deception. She promised to never lie to you, but now she has. What should she have to do to earn your forgiveness?

Although, perhaps this encounter was no matter, the sounds she made being enough fuel for your frantic stroking outside her bedroom door, her whines teaching you what to do when you would be in the stranger’s place, a point in time that won’t be too far from now. For the sake of equality, though, you’ll let this one slide. After all, you didn’t tell her about the man’s fate after that night, about your other friend who’d assisted you, about the teeth scattered on the cold basement floor, about the strips of flesh that hung from his back and how you’d apathetically tugged on them.

She’s a very good source of information for you. Truly, you hadn’t expected to spend so long in this city, nor had you expected for the museum to open up again so quickly since your heist two months ago only a few towns over, locked down for precaution (a laughable concept, really). Without her, you wouldn’t have anyone to debate the validity of the Old Testament, the extent that Raskolnikov can be justified, or theories on what happens after death. Also, without her, you wouldn’t have found out about the museum’s new exhibit of Goya paintings so soon, teasingly left out in the open, ripe for the plucking mere minutes away from your penthouse. It’s a temptation you’ve never bothered resisting.

Despite being a Nen user, whoever’s stalking you doesn’t care to hide himself properly. His perfect Zetsu is rendered useless from his other behaviours. You can hear his footsteps outside of the window, see his shadow in your periphery, hear his heavy breathing and salacious groans as he watches you.

If you were more dramatic, you’d roll your eyes. With Skill Hunter available on command, you have no doubt that this fool would lose to you in a fight. You’ve been observing his patterns, feeling his aura, preparing yourself for the inevitable.

You’ve been doing the same for your friend, however loosely you may use the term.

Whatever the man following you wants, you’ll take from him tenfold. You pick up the playing card from the bench, a queen of hearts, and regard it between your fingers.

You’ve got a stalker. She’s got a stalker too. But, unlike you, she won’t have the means to counter his next move.

[sammysmaddy]

Normal (Winchesters x Reader) - Part Five

Summary: Growing up as the baby of the Winchester family led you to be constantly guarded. Soon enough, you start to learn what's normal between families and what's not.

Characters: Sam, Dean, mentions of Brother!Dean x Sister!Reader, mentions of Brother!Sam x Sister!Reader, mentions of Dad!John x Daughter!Reader

Warnings: angst, mentions of manipulation, Sammy makes a very big realization, mentions of incest.

W/C: 3k+

Normal Masterlist

Masterlist

Dean was a mixture of angry and confused but above all that, he was scared. Sam hadn't said anything about catching Dean kissing his baby sister and Dean wasn't sure if he wanted that conversation to occur or not. 

Dean wasn't sure if Sam would be upset or angry with him, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to figure that out. There was the possibility that maybe Sam thought that Dean had forced himself onto her, but Dean could deal with Sam. Dean, however, wasn't sure if he could handle the wrath of John if he ever found out.

Sam said he didn't care, he didn't even seem too fazed by the entire scene in general, but there was no telling how Sam actually felt. 

It could be that Sam said what he said only so that he could get Dean and Y/N to leave the party. Maybe Sam didn't actually mean it. Maybe he was bottling up his emotions, upset for Y/N, maybe he even wanted to kill Dean, but he was hard to read. 

Sam was always good at hiding his emotions, all except around Y/N, and nobody really knew how to get through to him. Dean didn't know if he should have left it up in the air, or if Sam was even worried about it in the first place, but Dean felt guilty and he had to stop the truth from reaching John.

John would kill Dean if he were the one to have caught him. Pressing Y/N against the wall, towering over her body, kissing her until his lips went numb, touching all parts of her body with his large hands. John would lose his cool, and Dean was absolutely sure of it. 

John would probably scold him for the rest of eternity, tell him how bad of a brother he was- say that he took advantage of her, and Dean couldn't afford anything but praise from John. 

Dean had always been the best under pressure, his reflexes were arguably even better than John's, he was the better investigator, the better everything when it came to hunting. That's the way that John had raised him. 

John wanted Dean to be like him. Be a hunter. Risk his life every day for the wellbeing of others. And Dean was exactly that. If John ever found out about what Sam saw, Dean was afraid that he would never be looked at the same again. 

But, what about John?  Where had John been for the past hour? Y/N wasn't home and she's the one who rode with him in the truck. 

Y/N was the one who accidentally told Dean, and although he didn't have much information, he knew that something was going on between the two of them. 

Was John hurting her? Did Y/N tell him about what Dean had done? Did she know that it wasn't normal to be with your father like that? It wasn't right and as much as Dean's perverted mind wanted for her to stay so innocently unaware, she needed to know the truth. 

That started with coming clean to Sam. 

"Where are they? It's been over an hour," Dean asked cooly, trailing his way into a very uncomfortable conversation. 

Dean felt as though he couldn't openly bring up the situation that had occurred earlier, but he was nervously biting his tongue for Sam to.

"Don't know, man," Sam shrugged his shoulders, eyes glued to some book, and Dean sighed aloud. 

Sam was being dry and even though Dean had only made one attempt, he knew that sooner or later he would have to bite the bullet. 

"It's late and Dad wasn't exactly sober, you think she's okay?" Dean asked Sam, but he shrugged his shoulders again. 

Dean frowned to himself, upset that Sam didn't seem to be too worried, and continued to ask questions. 

"What if he got into a car crash or something, Sammy? What if he passed out in the parking lot? Y/N doesn't know how to drive." Dean questioned but he didn't believe any of it was true. 

He was almost certain that they were doing other things.

What if John got upset with her? Dean should have never left her alone with him- he should have never even taken her to that party. How could he have been so stupid? 

Dean wished he could take it all back, even the kiss that he had been wanting to steal from her for years now. He wished that he could have protected her, that he never got her into trouble. 

Dean knows first-hand what happens when John gets angry, especially when drunk, and he would never dream of any of that happening to her. But then again, Y/N never talked about John badly. 

Y/N practically viewed John as a God, he's all that she's ever known, and she didn't know any better. Dean was sure that she didn't know that incest wasn't socially or morally acceptable. 

Dean figured that because it was beneficial for John, John would probably never tell her the truth.

"Dean, they're fine. Y/N has a phone, she knows when to call us, and for Dad? He's driven so many times drunk that he's forgotten how to drive to drive sober. I'm sure it's nothing, maybe they're getting food." Sam answered, looking up from his book and giving Dean an assuring smile. 

Dean's frown deepened, he just wanted for Y/N to be okay. If Sam was hellbent on them being fine, Dean had to address the elephant in the room.

"Can we talk about it?" Dean asked, deepening his voice to seem like it wasn't a big deal. 

Dean knew it was. He knew that maybe Sam would never look at them the same again. He knew it was wrong, but God- he had wanted to kiss her for so long. 

Sam looked up from his book, looking at Dean nonchalantly, almost like he didn't know what Dean was saying. 

"You know what I'm talking about." Dean huffed out, frustrated that Sam hadn't said anything in response.

"For someone wanting to talk about it, you're not very good at admitting what it is," Sam gave him a small, playfully scolding, scoff. 

Dean was trying his best to read Sam but with his snarky comment, he didn't even know where to start. Was he condemning Dean? Did he really not care? Dean didn't know and he needed to.

"I, uh, I kissed Y/N," Dean admitted, a deep blush displaying on his cheeks. 

Dean held his breath whilst he waited for Sam's response. Sam raised an eyebrow at him, Sam's lips curving into a small smile.

"That was a little more than kissing, dude," Sam laughed lightly, no hints of awkwardness in his tone. "I mean, you were practically groping her, pressed up all on her and-"

"Shut up, Sam. I don't want to hear it, I know what I did," Dean cut him off and Sam gave him a small frown. 

Dean didn't want to admit to those things, to the things that made his stomach bubble with an equal amount of guilt and arousal. He didn't want Sam to know that he could think that way about his baby sister.

"I mean, if I hadn't gotten there in time, how far would it have gone?" Sam asked, leaning back into the wooden chair, and Dean gulped nervously. 

All the way, was Dean's initial reaction- but he couldn't admit that. Dean didn't want to even admit that to himself. 

Sam was practically teasing him at this point, making Dean much more anxious than needed.

"I don't know what got into me. I'm sure it was just the alcohol," Dean played it off, skipping the question completely. 

It was a lie, though. Drunk or sober Dean thought about his hands all over her, alcohol just amplified his concepts. Sam shrugged his shoulders, lending Dean a small smile. 

"You've never thought about it?" Sam questioned playfully. 

Dean's eyebrows furrowed in response, frowning a bit at the inquiry. It was almost painfully evident that Sam was scrutinizing Dean for getting caught in the act and it made Dean's face heat up even more. 

"Never thought about what?" Dean asked in return, confused and wondering why Sam didn't seem upset. 

"Y/N, I mean, in that way," Sam confirmed, looking at Dean with wide and examining eyes. 

Dean frowned, knowing that Sam would only ask that question if he too had thought about it. Dean was also upset by his own answer because he thought about Y/N every second of the day. Dean practically lived in his head which was a sick fantasy land, full of him and Y/N being together in every way possible. 

"Are you serious?" Dean scoffed, but the silence that followed after and Sam's gaze made him swallow hard. "No, Sam. I haven't." Dean put his foot down and Sam looked surprised. 

"You sure?" Sam questioned with an eyebrow raised and Dean nodded his head. "You're a bad liar, Dean," Sam scolded, a smile sprawled across his face as he looked back down into his book. 

"Have you?" Dean asked and Sam shrugged his shoulders in return. "I gave you a real answer, now I deserve the same." Dean huffed out, getting a little agitated by how lightly Sam was taking the entire situation. 

"No, you gave me an answer but not a real one," Sam shrugged, looking back up at Dean. "You answer truthfully and I will follow suit." Sam raised his eyebrow at Dean. 

Dean knew he wasn't exactly the greatest at hiding things and Sam's inquisitive nature didn't help. 

"I don't have to answer to you," Dean rolled his eyes and Sam didn't seem to care as his eyes dipped down once again. 

But, Dean needed to know Sam's- he needed to know that Sam wasn't the only perfectly sane person in this family. Based on Sam's steady flow of questions, Dean was almost sure Sam felt the same way about Y/N. 

"Seriously, where are they?" Dean questioned, flipping the subject back to John, and sighing frustratedly as he sat down on the edge of the motel bed. "It's three a.m." He added, looking at his watch. 

Dean was still dressed from the party, anxiously awaiting for the two of them to get home, and couldn't bring himself to not watch the door. He needed to know that she was okay.

"How much you wanna bet that Y/N fell asleep and he just doesn't wanna wake her up? It's probably nothing," Sam replied, however, Dean noticed how his face contorted. 

Dean couldn't read Sam all that well, but he knew at that moment that Sam was hiding something. 

"You don't find that weird? He'd never do that for us," Dean said, trying to catch Sam's eyes as they avoided his. 

"Yeah, well, we're not Daddy's little girl, are we?" Sam scoffed in return, but it was far from his regular scoff. 

Sam's voice shook nervously and Dean was taking whatever he could read off of Sam. Sam was a good liar, but Dean was too desperate to not pick up on every single sign that Sam gave him. Did Sam know about Y/N and John too?

"I mean, if that were true, don't you think he'd be parked in the parking lot?" Dean asked, standing up. 

He walked over to the curtains, pulled them open, and found no signs of John's truck anywhere. Dean knew exactly what was happening, obviously not to its full extent, and he found it weird that Sam wasn't more on edge. 

"They've got to be up to something," Dean added, looking back at Sam. 

"What are you suggesting, Dean?" Sam gulped nervously, frowning at Dean slightly, and it made his blood boil. Sam did know.

"Stop that," Dean growled, turning to face Sam. 

Sam's eyebrows crimped immediately at Dean's change of tone, looking more and more anxious as the seconds passed by.

"Stop what?" Sam frowned in return, looking genuinely curious.

Dean knew by this point that it was all just an act. With all of those questions about Y/N and the way Sam didn't seem to care where she was, Dean knew that Sam's story didn't add up. He either knew as much as Dean did or he was trying to cover his tracks.

"Stop acting stupid, Sam. Tell me what's going on," Dean pried, glaring at Sam up and down. 

Dean just wanted some clarity from Sam and it was aggravating that he was only getting bits and pieces. 

"Look, I'm sure it's nothing," Sam offered, dumbing down the situation, and looking back down to avoid Dean. "Like I said, they're probably getting food or something."

"When is it ever nothing?" Dean scoffed and Sam shrugged his shoulders. 

Every part of Dean told him that Sam knew everything, even more so than he knew. After a long few seconds of bitter silence, Dean had to ask. 

"Do you know?" Dean asked in a way that Sam could only become confused or simply nod his head 'yes'. 

Sam did the latter, looking up with wide eyes at Dean. 

"You know too?" Sam asked, his face pale like he had just seen a ghost. 

Dean nodded his head and they both struggled to find the words that came next. 

"Did Dad tell you?" Dean questioned and Sam shook his head immediately. 

"No, I just figured it out," Sam answered honestly. "Did he tell you?"

"Hell no," Dean scoffed, acting like the same question he asked Sam was stupid. "Y/N told me one night." He added on and Sam nodded his head, not knowing what to say. "Have you, uh, ever, you know, with her?" Dean stuttered and Sam continued to nod his head. 

Although Dean was being hypocritical, he felt the anger course through his veins. Dean couldn't tell if he was upset because it was immoral or because Sam and John had never mentioned that to Y/N. 

"Sammy, you've gotta stop." Dean sighed, turning back to sit on the edge of his bed. 

"Dean, it's not like that," Sam frowned, closing his book for good as he decided to face Dean. 

"Then what is it like, Sam?" Dean asked, anger lacing his tone as Sam tried his best to come up with a viable answer. 

"She, uh, she came on to me," Sam said in a small voice and Dean began to rub his face with his calloused fingers. 

"She doesn't know that it's wrong. You're supposed to be the one who tells her these things, you were supposed to be the person protecting her. You know Dad doesn't give a fuck if she doesn't know it isn't normal. That's our job." Dean raised his voice slightly, making Sam scoff in defense. 

"So, tonight was normal? Kissing her at a party and pressing her against a wall is normal? I know my sister, Dean, and she wasn't sober, so you tell me who's more screwed up: You or Dad? Because at least she initiated it with me." Sam raised his voice in return.

"How can you be fine with this? I'm not justifying what I did tonight, Hell, I'll even apologize for it- but you? How can you sit there and explain to me that it was okay? Don't you feel guilty?" Dean continued to scrutinize. 

"Sam, I kissed her, touched her up and down, and lord knows what you've done to her. This stuff isn't okay. Especially with her, she barely even knows what sex is." Dean frowned, wondering why he seemed to be the only one who felt guilty. 

Sam was a smart kid, he should probably feel more guilty than Dean did, but Sam didn't seem to care. 

"But she let you," Sam reasoned and Dean raised an eyebrow. "She let you kiss her. She wanted it, Dean." Sam made up for Dean's actions, seemingly trying to get Dean to loosen up. 

"It's not about that and you know it," Dean growled, growing more upset with Sam with each little comment. 

Dean closed his eyes for a second, attempting to collect his cool because he was sure that Sam didn't think about how she didn't know any better. Sam wasn't the type to purposefully manipulate people, especially Y/N. 

Dean knew that Sam loved Y/N more than anything in the world, and he knew that Sam would never hurt her. 

"It's not your fault, Sammy. She came on to you- I get it, but if you continue, you better make sure she knows. You can't keep using her like that. She doesn't know it's wrong."

"I'm sorry," Sam apologized in a small voice, looking ashamed of himself. 

Sam was calming down too, starting to finally understand where Dean was coming from.

"It's not your fault, I told you that. It's Dad, he's the one who should have told her if he started all that stuff. You just didn't think about it that way, did you?" Dean sighed and Sam shook his head, beginning to look upset.

Now, just like Dean, Sam was beginning to feel sick within himself. He felt guilty for all of his times with her in the shower, all of the mornings when John would be on a hunt and Dean would be out getting breakfast, and, especially, the nights when John and Dean were on hunts. 

When Y/N was the one to advance on Sam, Sam didn't think twice about whether it was immoral or not because of how much he loved Y/N. All of those months of being ignorant were catching up to Sam.

When Sam did finally question, going back and forth between feeling guilty and soaking up the pleasure he felt with Y/N, he justified that Y/N must have known the implications behind their relationship. Sam just figured that it was common knowledge, but maybe he had learned it in school somewhere. Y/N never got that opportunity. 

By the time the whole sex and incest jokes were being passed around, Y/N was 'homeschooled' and only stayed at the motel. She never got the chance to socially develop- find out the difference between right and wrong, and Sam should have realized that. 

As Sam and Dean sat in silence, contemplating their own acts, Dean began to plan a course of action.

•••

Next Part

•••

Tag List ❤️

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[talesfrommedinastation]

My redneck neighbor Doug watches 'Bad Territory'

As a few people have quickly surmised, the Bad Batch episode in which they go to Space Swampy Badtimes and punch gators was going to send Doug over the edge with joy. Y'all right!

So, turn up the CCR to 'Born on the Bayou', and prepare for some of the more unhinged things Doug's texted me.

CW: Little more mild, just excitement. When Doug starts rambling about Cajun food, just click here. He says it's one of the best places for boudin and bbq and they'll even process a deer you found on the highway.

------------------------------------------------------------

Episode 8: “::happy Cajun noises::”

Well we back in Space Daytona, outside the HMS Search Warrant because Daddy Rambo can’t afford a trailer now. Does that thing have air conditioning? 

Man, Toaster Strudel’s always gone, is he a space trucker now or what.

Oh, man, it’s Church Lady! She don’t seem too upset by Ryan-from-Accounting being somewhere else, fighting the Space Balrog. But we know why she’s not sad. 

(Does this involve Mayday?

"Who?"

Sassy Park Ranger?

"Hell yeah it does! He’s her beau."

What about Ryan-from-Accounting?

"I done told you once I tell you again RYAN-FROM-ACCOUNTING DIDN’T DESERVE THAT SMART INDEPENDENT WOMAN NONE!")

Maybe Daddy Warcrimes will hang out with Church Lady and she can double dip with him and Sassy Park Ranger. It’s Thanksgiving, dark meat and white meat are on the plate.

(WTF?!)

Well you know why Church Lady’s the Church Lady? She’s been talking to other church folks and if there’s one person who knows how to get info on people it’s the church ladies. Seriously, how do you think they organize EVERYTHING and know EVERYONE. You think they go to church for Jesus that’s a bald lie up in here. 

So Julio fires up the stolen work truck and he and Daddy Rambo are off. 

Wait, if that’s their home, where Little Orphan Blondie and Daddy Warcrimes sleeping? The beach? Come on now. 

Aw, shit, man, is that THOTH STATION?! Meat Muffin, these show people reading your white trash love story book and made it into reality! They owe you MONEY GIRL! Think they’ll meet Fred Johnson or Anderson Dawes?!

And look it’s CAMINA DRUMMER! 

Oh wait no that’s that Chick-that’s-in-Everything! Looks like she’s doing business with the guy Han Solo shot in the club. Think she’s selling him Columbian nose candy? 

Well she’s drinking a whole thing of pinot, don’t blame her, I’d be drinking if Daddy Rambo was up in my club whining for names. Go on the Facebook, Daddy Rambo, it’d be easier.

They’re off somewhere else to help the Chick-that’s-in-Everything. OH MY SWEET TITS OF CHRIST THEY IN LOUISIANA AGAIN! IT’S AN OIL REFINERY! No one can breath! They got a PONTOON! Everything’s orange and sticky!

Oh look at them out in them stinky bayous of Terrebonne Parish! Man did they film this entire season in my home state like it’s the first season of True Detective now I wonder. Man that was a good show. 

Aw man, mines in the water! It IS TERREBONNE PARISH! “He won’t expect us,” damn right he won’t. The Chick-Thats-In-Everything sure knows her shit. She’s a redneck hunter and the lady’s got grit. I wonder if she’s caught Steven Segal. 

There better be OH MAN IT IS! 

SPACE GATORS!!!!!

YEAH! PUNCH EM JULIO! SHOOT EM CHICK-THAT’S-IN-EVERYTHING! OH DADDY RAMBO GOT CAUGHT BUT JULIO PUNCHED IT TOO! PUNCHING GATORS AND THROWING KNIVES AND SHOOTING GUNS IN THE BAYOU, MEAT MUFFIN I LOVE THIS DAMN SHOW!!!!!

The only bad thing about this is now I need to go back to Thibodaux to Bourgeois and get some crawfish boudin, maybe some cracklings, some hogshead cheese too. 

Daddy Warcrimes is doing that thing where you sit around and breathe. Jenny tells me to do that. I’m like woman I do that every damn day at work what’s the difference now. 

They’re at the place–it’s a shack in the woods surrounded by home made bombs and the owner’s armed to the teeth?! MEAT MUFFIN THEY GONE DONE AND FILMED IT AT MY COUSIN CLAYTON'S HOUSE IN TERREBONNE PARISH NOW!!!!

Oh man it ain’t my cousin Clayton whose been weird since he got out of Angola,  now they’re hunting Jeff Goldblum from The Fly! Except now he’s a mantis! Hate those things. Jenny set one on fire after she caught it snapping at one of her hummingbirds. That woman, man, you don’t mess with her garden, she’ll take out the hairspray and a lighter and make a torch out of it. Love her. Married two dozen years now.*

Oh! Jeff Goldblum is trying to escape–but the Chick-That’s-In-Everything knows her shit and cuts her own wire to the pontoon! Maybe she IS Camina Drummer after all. 

Oh, man, they done got that mantis son of a bitch. Now, back to Thoth Station, and of course, the Chick-That’s-in-Everything ain’t coughing up a dime. Just flings Daddy Rambo right off her ship. 

Oh, man, who is she calling? 

I hope it’s not Gun-Safety-Muppet, I hate that blue bastard. 

*= Jenny is a delight and really does flip from ‘Sweetie, you need to meditate’ to ‘I will set bugs on fire for threatening my birds’. She’s the one who taught Jimmers to corner and kill everything in their yard.

@skellymom @cdblake1565 @sued134 @amalthiaph @yeehawgeek @merkitty49 @eyecandyeoz @isthereanechoinhere96 who else loves Redneck Doug?

If you want to be added, please let me know!

PS- I have his ramblings from the last two episodes, but they were not nearly as deranged as this.