#Tips Sell House Fast

[heartlandfundinginc]

Selling a home in Chicago? Check out these 4 proven strategies to attract buyers fast and sell at a competitive price. From curb appeal to pricing, these tips will help make your property stand out in the Chicago market.

[asherbrien]

Tips To Sell Your House Fast

To sell a house quickly, focus on curb appeal with landscaping and exterior touch-ups. Declutter and depersonalize interiors to appeal to a wide range of buyers. Price competitively and consider staging to showcase the home's potential. Utilize high-quality photos and compelling online listings. Host open houses and be flexible with showings. Finally, work with a reputable real estate agent for guidance throughout the process.

[nadvs]

both sinners (part one)

pairing drugdealer! rafe cameron x female reader

rating explicit 18+

content warning drug use

summary as a stripper, you’re well aware that someone you know could walk into the club at any moment. when rafe is your newest customer, you’re actually glad to see a familiar face.

{ masterlist }

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The room is humid. The pole is smooth. The music is throbbing. And the seats are filling up fast. It’s a typical Saturday night at the club.

You just stepped out on the stage, circling the pole, taking slow, seductive steps in your stilettos.

A polished ‘reserved’ name plate sits on table in the booth right in front of you. You’ll start your routine and get undressed when the people who claimed that booth come in.

You’ve only been stripping for a few months, but you know well enough by now that it’s not worth putting your best show on until the reserved booths are full. Those customers are the most generous with their tips.

Moments later, in the pink and purple lights shimmering over the large club, you can make out the shadowed figures of three men piling into the booth.

You hook your leg around the pole and gyrate while they get seated, ready to start your show.

Rafe settles in the cushioned booth and is immediately captivated by you. You’re so smooth with every slow roll of your hips.

He glances around, seeing the other dancers, but there’s something about you that’s magnetic. It’s like his eyes will only allow him to look at you.

You’re in a sheer skirt and a scant bra; in his opinion, too many clothes are covering your body. He watches while you sensually sway, the lights hitting your planes and curves.

When you arch your back to pull the string holding your bra together, baring your tits, you bra falls to the floor in a bunch. You dip your head back, chest uncovered and so fucking perfect, as you hold yourself up on the pole.

You’re left in nothing but a mini-skirt, lace panties, and six-inch heels.

He’s in awe.

“Dude!” Topper shouts over the music. Rafe looks over at his friend and the waitress leaning over his shoulder. “Drink?”

Rafe realizes they’ve probably been trying to get his attention for a while. He was just too damn distracted by the silhouette on stage.

He laughs, ordering an old fashioned, and turns his attention back to you.

“Acting like you’ve never seen tits before,” Topper chides him, shoving his shoulder and making Kelce crack up.

“Shut the fuck up,” Rafe chuckles.

You hike yourself up on the pole and slowly spread your legs apart, twisting and rolling. Goddamn. He’s already so fucking worked up just from watching you dance a few feet away from him.

You wait until their drinks arrive and let them get a few sips in before you sink to the glossy floor and swing your legs over the stage.

“Hi, boys,” you say over the music, turning on the flirty, confident identity you always take on while on stage. “Having fun?”

“It’s his birthday,” one of them shouts and points to the man in the middle.

“Oh, yeah?” you say with a smile. You slowly drop onto the carpeted floor and start to close the distance between you and the three men.

The way your hips swing is making Rafe’s groin get tighter. He can’t believe this is his first time in a strip club. What the fuck took him so long?

You freeze for a second when you realize you know these guys. Kind of.

Even though you live nowhere near Figure 8, you’ve befriended enough wealthy people on the island to get invited to their extravagant house parties. And you’ve definitely seen these men before.

You know Rafe best out of the three. He sells the purest coke you’ve ever tried and he somehow gets hotter every time you see him. You’ve talked to him maybe twice, buying a couple of grams off of him.

It’ll only be awkward if you make it awkward, so you place your hands on the edge of the table in the middle of the booth and lean forward, arms pressed against your sides to push out your tits.

Rafe’s eyes dip to your naked chest immediately, then back up to your face. He’s met you before. He thought you were hot then, and he thinks you’re hot now.

“I know you,” you tease. He finds it sexy how you’re completely unfazed by this, not embarrassed at all to be half-naked like this in front of them. “Happy birthday.”

His friend, who you’re pretty sure people call Topper, holds out a folded $50 between his fore finger and middle finger to you.

“First dance is on me, man,” Topper slurs, patting Rafe’s chest with his other hand. By the lazy smiles on their faces, you can tell these aren’t their first drinks of the night.

You lick your lips and smile as you take the bill and tuck it in the waistband of your skirt. You know these guys are loaded. You’re going to make a killing tonight.

You look back at the stage, spotting another dancer and cocking your chin to silently gesture to her to join the table and keep the other guys entertained while you focus on Rafe.

You slowly make your way towards him, the erotic, bass-heavy music surrounding you. You typically let your mind drift away while you give a customer a lap dance, but you’re actually attracted to this one.

The sight of your thighs spreading as you kneel down to straddle him makes Rafe’s heart start pounding even harder.

“Hi,” you say with a sweet smile. You settle and hover over him, mostly supporting yourself on your knees, but sitting on his lap just enough to feel his firm thighs beneath you.

You’re a little nervous, which takes you by surprise. This must be what happens when a customer is someone you have a crush on.

His cologne smells crisp and expensive as you put your hands on his broad shoulders, rubbing over the fabric of his t-shirt.

“Hi,” Rafe says with a stunned grin, his dimples deep. You feel his hands settle under your skirt, fingers splayed over your ass. Even though the rules are strict against touching the dancers, and you’re sure he was told that when he arrived, you let him.

It feels so damn good to be wanted like this by him, to have him touch you. Besides, he seems like the type who thinks he’s above the rules anyway, so telling him not to touch you would be a waste of breath.

“How’s your day been?” you coo, palms sliding down to his chest. Rafe’s blue eyes trail from your mouth to your half-naked body, the handsome angles of his face shadowed under the lights.

“Better now,” he says, his fingers digging into the flesh of your ass. You giggle, leaning to speak into his ear.

“They don’t let you touch the dancers here,” you mumble to him, “but I’ll give you a pass tonight.”

You pull back to see him clench his defined jawline as he squeezes harder.

“Yeah?” he rasps, the sharp smell of bourbon on his breath. “How come?”

“It’s my birthday present to you,” you say, starting to writhe on him.

“Bullshit,” he smirks. “It’s ‘cause you want me to touch you.” You can admit to yourself that his ego is kind of charming. And yeah, he’s right. His hands on you do feel good.

You sit up to prop your chest right up to his face. Rafe breathes in the smell of your perfume, revelling in the feeling of your tits inches away from his face.

“Are you always this cocky?” you ask. You rake a hand up the back of his head, his hair soft between your fingers.

“Yeah,” Rafe says simply, his careless shrug adding to his charm. You start to gyrate against him, feeling his firmness in his jeans. You dip your head, your cheek pressed against his as you grind.

“That feels good, huh?” you hum.

“Fuck,” he mutters, his voice deep as he says your name. “I didn’t know you were such a bad girl.”

Damn. You’re actually getting wet right now. This never happens. This is supposed to be work.

“Now you know,” you reply. Your hand slides down his chest, over his firm stomach, landing at his groin. Damn. He’s big.

“Shit,” he groans. You pull back, seeing Rafe’s drunken smile, and seamlessly sit up to swing your leg off of him, backing up to shake your ass on him.

The way your skirt is bouncing with every recoil makes him feel like he could go crazy. You look back at him to see him digging into his pocket, taking a wad of cash out.

He tucks a bill into the band of your skirt, his bottom lip trapped under his teeth as he watches you lustfully.

The way you shake and sway and bump on his lap is making the tension in him tighten, closer and closer to snapping by the second. It’s not enough. He needs to see you fully naked.

The next time you look at him, Rafe impatiently wags his fingers to beckon you to turn towards him again. You obey and kneel over, your faces only inches apart, your hands on his thighs, your ass in the air.

“You gonna get naked or what?” he mutters impatiently. You’re flattered that he’s so into you.

“I can, here,” you say, eager to upsell, “or we can go up to a private room.”

“Yeah?” he says. “What else can we do in there?”

“Did you come here to talk?” you hear a man shout. You realize Topper’s giving him shit, smiling as one of the other dancers grinds on him.

You honestly like that Rafe is talking to you instead of silently watching you dance for him, but you giggle, trying to keep the atmosphere light and fun.

Rafe doesn’t like you laughing with his friend. Or smiling at him. Or even looking at him.

“Let’s go,” Rafe says resolutely. You turn to gaze at him again, his eyes gleaming in the flickering lights.

“It’s $100 for a room-” you begin, but he interrupts.

“Let’s go,” he repeats. You have a feeling you could tell him any price and he’d agree.

You smile and take Rafe’s hand, leading him upstairs to one of the VIP rooms. A bouncer standing in the top level hallway nods to you and motions to a free room.

“No touching, buddy,” he warns Rafe, who only replies with a mocking nod. This man has no respect for anyone or anything. And he makes it look so sexy.

The small space offers an upholstered booth, a pole, and a table for drinks. The dim red bulb on the ceiling seems to casts more shadows than light, making Rafe annoyed that he won’t be able to see you better.

He settles onto the booth as you shut the door behind you. His legs are spread wide, his cock stretching his jeans out in an impressive bulge.

The music is muffled, but still loud enough to dance to in the private room. You toss the bills that are sitting under your waistband onto the table, then position yourself between his knees to writhe for him as you pull down the zipper on the side of your skirt.

The skirt pools around your heels. Rafe drinks in the vision of your lace panties, the way the fabric hugs your lips. He has never been more turned on.

“Damn…” he groans with a disbelieving scoff, his hands sliding up your thighs. When he runs a thumb up your middle, you tremble.

This feels unreal. You’ve given every other man who merely tried to touch your hand a firm reminder of the rules. But here you are, letting Rafe touch your pussy, loving the feeling.

“I knew you were fine, but shit,” he mutters.

You can’t help but wonder if he was attracted to you before he laid eyes on you tonight, when you were fully dressed at the parties you’ve seen each other at.

Rafe’s lips curl into a smirk as he digs into his pocket to pull out his wallet and a clear baggy of white powder. If you weren’t sure that he couldn’t give less of a fuck about rules before, you are now.

“Want some?” he asks.

“I’m working,” you laugh.

“What’s a little bit gonna do?” Rafe asks, pulling out a credit card. “Lie down.”

Intrigued, you follow his orders, settling on the booth onto your back.

“Stay still,” he mutters. You laugh to yourself in disbelief when you realize he’s setting up a line on your chest, right between your tits. He’s almost too much.

Rafe loves the way the powder looks sitting on your skin. He taps the edge of his credit card against the line of coke, evening it out, before he leans down and snorts through a rolled up bill.

Euphoria hits every one of his senses immediately. His lips are right by yours and he gives into his impulse like he always does, leaning down to kiss you.

He takes you by surprise when he captures your lips in his. You smile beneath his hot mouth, enthralled by his spontaneous passion, feeling him suck on your bottom lip. When he pulls back, he’s smiling.

“You sure you don’t want any?” Rafe asks, pupils blown.

“Fuck it,” you laugh. This night has been crazy enough. “Just a bump.”

You sit up, leaning against the cushion of the booth and you hold out your finger, watching as he carefully tips some coke out of the baggy. You rub it over your gums, purposely sucking your finger as you pop it out of your mouth.

Everything about you is driving Rafe crazy in the best way. You’re so fucking carefree and self-possessed.

He shifts to hang over you, his fingers looping around the band of your panties. Rafe pulls them down your legs and sharply inhales when he sees your bare pussy.

He needs you. A dance isn’t enough.

“I’m supposed to do that part,” you breathe a chuckle.

“How much to fuck you?” He meets your eyes, his hair hanging over his forehead.

“We can’t do that, baby,” you laugh, although you desperately want to. You’d get fired in a second. “Not here.”

“It’s my birthday,” he whines with a heartbreaking grin. He palms his dick in his pants, eyes drifting down your body hungrily. “How much? I’ll give you whatever you want.”

You’ve already broken so many rules, and you would love to fuck him, but the risk of getting caught is just too high. You decide to compromise.

You put him hand on the hard swelling in his pants and rub.

“How about this?” you ask, looking up at him through your lashes. “You sit down and I touch you.”

That way, you think, if anyone walks in, your back will be to the door and you can hide what you’re doing, making it look like you’re just giving him another lap dance.

Rafe nods, glad he has the promise of a release, and sits back down where he was before.

You shuffle to straddle him, feeling his hands on your ass again. You unbutton and zip down his jeans and he frantically bucks his hips up and slips them down.

When his cock pops out of his boxers, you nearly gasp at how big it is.

“I got hard the second I saw your tits,” he laughs, feeling drunk and high out of his mind.

“Yeah?” you purr. You spit on your palm then put your hand around his base. He groans, the pressure sending a roll of pleasure through his body.

“Yeah,” Rafe shudders. “You have really nice fucking tits.” Wow. He’s talkative when he’s high. You love it.

His hands move up to capture your breasts, squeezing the flesh.

“How the fuck am I not supposed to touch you? That’s a stupid fucking rule,” he mutters, his thumbs rubbing over your nipples. You shudder, arching your back at the sensation.

“Damn, you like that?” he rasps with a smirk.

“Yeah,” you breathe a laugh. You start to run your hand up and down his cock, arousal pooling in your gut.

“You’re telling me you don’t want this dick inside you?” he teases. You bite your bottom lip and twist your wrist as you stroke him.

“We can’t fuck in here,” you tell him.

“But we can somewhere else?” Rafe asks, tilting his chin towards you so you’ll kiss him again.

The coke is starting to hit your system as your tongue rolls over his, your palm wet against his cock.

“Yeah, we can,” you say shakily when you pull away.

“Shit, you’re good at that,” he grunts, looking down at your hand working him. All you can hear is the muffled music and your combined breathing and the sound of your wet skin rubbing over his.

“Yeah?” you ask.

Rafe’s head is spinning. He takes in the sight of his hands on your perfect tits, the way you’re jerking him off, the smile on your pretty face. All this combined with the liquor and coke rushing through him is fucking paradise.

“You wanna cum on me?” you impulsively ask. He’s still partly dressed, but you’re fully naked. It’d be easier to clean up. And, if you’re being honest, you want to feel his cum on you.

“You really are a bad girl,” Rafe laughs. You meet his eyes. He’s so depraved, but hell, so are you.

You put your other hand on him, rubbing his thick length in a faster rhythm. He rolls his head back as he groans.

“I’m gonna… oh, fuck…” His deep voice unravels into mumbles.

You aim his cock towards you, watching the white ropes of his cum spurt out of him, his body twitching beneath you. The hot liquid splashes over your stomach and your thighs, making you smile in satisfaction.

When he comes down from the high you gave him, he hands you his entire wad of cash.

You didn’t expect your night to take this turn, but it was so much fucking fun. And you have no idea if Rafe will remember any of this. But you hope he does.

{ part two }

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[xkseii]

⎮Such a gorgeous plant⎮

⏤ Characters: Baizhu⎮reader

⏤ Warnings: bottom/sub Baizhu, top/dom male reader, vines/plant, implied aphrodisiac, mention of mind-breaking,

⏤ 3.000 words

For once, your husband came home early, surprising you with his unusual appearance. You were certain that the house would be empty, but unfortunately, it was not.

Though, you were more than glad to have the opportunity to spend more time with your husband.

With the front door half open, you admired the man that wasn't aware of your presence yet. He was sitting on his favourite chair, the dark green leather complimenting his hair and pale skin. As usual, he was reading over his herbarium, checking if everything was in place and sometimes adding small notes to his previous ones.

His long hair wasn't tied in a high bun for once, as it could let you admire how it runs down the back of the chair beautifully, perhaps tempting you to run your hair through it and yank his head back. Baizhu changed his clothes to feel more comfortable, and be able to rest correctly, with crossed legs without the tight fabric of his pants annoying him.

Changsheng who was already fast asleep when you came home, recognized the sounds of your footsteps and left his master's neck to wrap around your forearm with a happy hiss. Chuckling, you carefully patted his head before walking towards your husband.

The said man had already placed down his book and was waiting for you to greet him, his hand gripping the back of your neck when you leaned forward, your lips meeting in a soft kiss. Sensing that it wasn't an innocent kiss, Changsheng went away quickly, hissing when his master almost stepped on him when he stood up, wrapping his arms around your neck to bring you even closer.

Soft pants left Baizhu's mouth when your hands started to wander, caressing his exposed waist before moving to his hips, groping the soft flesh. Moving your mouth to his neck, you gently nibbled on the skin, creating a mark and turning on your husband even more.

The activity of the evening was clear until Baizhu pushed you back, looking at a certain object.

“What is that?”

On the table, was a plant proudly standing inside a pot, that wasn't familiar at all to Baizhu. Chuckling, you told him that one of your clients gave it to you as a tip, as they were extremely satisfied with the work you have done, and you took the plant home with you after they insisted. They even told you that you could sell it at a good price if you didn't want to keep it.

Your husband furrowed his eyebrows, slowly getting out of your hold to step closer to the unknown plant, a bad feeling spreading through his body. Not only its kind was definitely unknown, but he didn't even remember seeing a picture of it in his books. He observed the small plant, a young bud on top of it, and it seemed rather healthy from looking at the bright shade of green.

Baizhu threw you a sceptical look, not certain if it was a good idea to keep a plant like this one at home, especially without knowing its specie. But with your bright smile and sparkling eyes, he couldn't refuse it, as he just nodded in defeat. Still, he made you promise to take care of it, as it was your plant and not his.

With a roll of your eyes, you took the plant with you, moving it to the balcony, so it wouldn't take too much place, and it will have good access to the sunlight. Your husband sighed when you started to think of a name for it, sensing that this plant would be your favourite subject for the following days.

With a tired sigh, he let himself fall onto the chair, lightly spreading his legs and waiting for you to come back. Baizhu came home early so he could spend more time with you, and maybe have some fun, and yet, your attention was entirely set on a damn plant. Rolling his head back, he looked at the door leading to the balcony, impatiently waiting to see you come back in.

When, finally, you stepped back in and closed the door beside you, Baizhu had already called you over, motioning with his finger to join him. Quickly, Baizhu's top and pants were discarded, and he smirked when you rushed to be by his side, leading him towards the bedroom, not wanting to let your husband wait any longer.

Unlike what Baizhu expected, you were taking care of the plant well, it was growing quickly, and it became an even more beautiful shade of green.

Flowers blossomed, and its single body was joined with multiple long vines, that seemed to crawl out of the plot, taking over most of the balcony space. Some vines were even going down your house's wall, and it added a certain charm to the plain-looking house.

Seeing how happy you seemed to take care of it and watch it grow, Baizhu didn't dare to make a comment on it. After all, it wasn't taking up any space inside the house, it was healthy, and you weren't obsessed over it. So he had no reason to complain, but something wasn't sitting well with him. He tried to find the specie of this plant, but none of his books were mentioning it, so he went to buy new ones, hoping he would get more information.

And yet, despite searching for so long, he found absolutely nothing.

A certain day, coming back home feeling a bit needy, to say the least, Baizhu was concerned about not finding you anywhere. Until, he heard a noise coming from the balcony, and he saw you gently cut some rotting vines off the plant while talking to yourself. It wasn't disturbing in any way, as he was doing the same thing with Changsheng, but hearing a soft rustle at the end of each sentence was weird.

He observed you smile warmly at the plant, his eyes running over your back to your legs, and your ankles. Suddenly, he jumped forward and yanked you away from the plant, taking out his weapon to cut the vine that wrapped itself around your ankle without you knowing.

Confused, you scolded him for surprising you and cutting one of the most beautiful vines without a reason. But your husband seemed tense, telling you to get away from this plant and that you shouldn't keep it here. Since you didn't notice how peculiar the plant was, you just thought Baizhu was being paranoid, and you simply waved his worries off.

Another week passed, and this time, when waking up and walking to the kitchen, Baizhu was left with an unwelcome surprise. The plant that was already taking over the whole balcony seemed to not be satisfied yet and started to slide under the door, a few vines were already innocently resting on the kitchen floor. Definitely not happy with this news, he cut off the vines that were inviting themselves inside your home, also cutting short most of the longer ones that were still outside.

You were slightly angry when he told you what he did, but you didn't comment on it, knowing that he knew more about plants than you. Pouting, you nodded when he told you to get rid of it tomorrow, using whatever way you wanted it, but just get it out of your house.

Planning to sell it off at a good price with how big and possibly rare it was, you moved it inside for the night, so you could take it away immediately the next morning.

But it has been your mistake.

As you were at work, your boss asked you to run two more errands that would make you come home late, and you had no choice but obey. And it leads to Baizhu coming back to an empty house, not so empty though, as the plant has taken over most of the entrance.

Before he could do anything, he was swept off his feet, vines crawling under his pants and wrapping themselves around his legs. The thick and powerful vines immobilized him, tying his hands together and crawling under his clothes. Baizhu couldn't do anything when one of the vines ripped his pants, another one sneaked under his top, and one took away his weapon.

He was left unarmed, completely defenceless. The house was empty, he had no idea when you would come back home, and despite screaming your name as loudly as he could, you will never hear. Desperate, he wanted to shout your name again, but a vine took the opportunity to go into his mouth, reaching the back of his throat almost instantly.

As another one sneaked inside, wrapping itself around his tongue, and playing with it, while a vine made its way inside his underwear. When it wrapped itself around his dick, the thicker part resting around his base while the thinner and more rapid part was touching his tip, slowly caressing the slit, tears gathered at his lash line. Baizhu felt himself grow light-headed as an unknown liquid started to get slide inside his throat, certainly being produced by the plant.

He begged in his mind that you would come back quickly, especially when he felt the tip of a vine prod at his ass, pushing against his hole. Two other vines tugged at his nipples, another one playing with his chest, forcing him to grow more and more sensitive. Despite the disgusting feeling of getting touched by something or someone else than you, the weird liquid that the plant produced made him feel good, taking over his senses.

His eyes roll back when the vine around his dick tightens, forcing a whine out of his mouth, letting the two inside it go even deeper. The one near his ass was going to penetrate him, Baizhu could feel it, and just the thought of it made the tears run down his cheeks, begging and mewling as best as he could for you to be back now.

And thankfully for him, he heard the door creaking open and your surprised gasp. The plant surged forward to also capture you, but you were faster, as you took out your sword and slashed all the vines coming your way.

Within a few seconds, you had cut the ones holding up Baizhu and caught him in your arms. Carefully, you placed him down on the sofa before cutting every vine you could see, cursing when one still managed to crawl around your ankle.

The plant seemed to refuse to give up, but when you suddenly yelled at it, everything stopped. Its vines crawled back into the pot and it stopped moving. You stood there, confused and sword in hand, not comprehending what just happened.

The plant waited a few seconds before trying to crawl out again, but you scolded it, and it hides again. Despite the weirdness of it, the plant seemed to take orders from the one who took care of it, and it was you. This means, that it wouldn't dare to go against you in any way, but you were still settled on getting rid of it after what you just witnessed.

Asking Baizhu if he had a solution, he just told you to burn it, not even glancing its way, refusing to see the monstrosity. The plant started to get agitated at his words, but it was already too late, as you used the first thing you saw to burn it to ashes. The plant tried to use its vines to crawl away, but it couldn't do anything as they all got destroyed, and its main body started to burn too.

You looked at the empty pot, a few carbonised vines were still there, but the plant was definitely dead. Immediately, you took the pot and remaining vines outside and placed them next to your door, set on throwing them far away after you check on Baizhu.

Since you placed him on the sofa, he didn't move once, staying in his ripped clothes and his aroused state.

Glancing at you with teary eyes, he begged you to help him, pointing at his dick and hole covered in a weird fluid. Whatever the plant produced was still in his organism, and was fucking with his head, making Baizhu feel extremely sensitive and turned on.

If his body wasn't so weak, he would have been on you already and discarded your clothes, so you could take him. High and desperate, he spread his legs and started to finger himself, mewling for you to come here this instant and fuck him.

You didn't think much, the pain mixed with pleasure on your husband's face made you move instantly, finding yourself in between his legs before he could add anything else.

With your fingers deep inside of him, the odd fluid making the perfect lube, at the same time, you were focused on bobbing your head, his dick deep inside your throat as you give Baizhu the stimulation he needed. He smelled like flowers, the scent intoxicating as you felt yourself get light-headed too.

You pushed another finger inside, loosening his hole, so you could slide inside without pain. Despite the rush you were both in, you wanted to check if Baizhu was really alright with it.

“Baizhu… Is it fine for you?”

He struggled to make eye contact with you, with tears blurring his vision and his mind almost completely empty. Slurred words came out of his mouth, but you managed to make out what he meant.

“Just… fuck me now.”

You ripped off the rest of his clothes, gripping his legs and placing them over your shoulders, ready to penetrate him. Baizhu's body was burning up against yours, the aphrodisiac driving him insane as he sobbed from not having you inside him, grinding his hole against the head of your dick desperately.

He was completely losing his mind, only thinking about cumming and being full of you. You penetrated him as soon as he nodded at you, earning a loud moan out of Baizhu, his back arching as he lifted his hips, grinding against you, moving his ass to force you deeper inside of him.

He could feel you twitch inside of him, precum and an odd fluid coating his insides, his hole getting stretched more and more as you went deeper. The sensation alone could make Baizhu cum, his sensitivity was through the roof when your hips met his ass. His thighs were shaking, and his legs wrapped themselves around you to keep you close, wordlessly begging for more.

It never happened before, but Baizhu could already feel his orgasm near, everything except you was blurry around him, his mind full of you. You don't know what came over you, but you used your dendro vision to tie Baizhu's hands with your own vines, watching as he gasped, his dick twitching and spurting cum onto his stomach.

Another set of vines moved to his cock, getting him off at the same pace you fucked him. The front of your hips slapping against his ass, the sounds getting louder as you went faster, Baizhu's voice was high and strong enough to get over the sinful sounds.

When you leaned forward to kiss him, you swallowed his moans along with some of the liquid that was still on his tongue, feeling yourself get harder inside Baizhu. He gasped, trying to say something, but your mind was already somewhere else. You rammed into him as deep as you could, brushing against his prostate at every thrust, forcing a dry orgasm out of him when you unconsciously made the vine tighten around the base of his dick.

A last vine appears, your vision glowing as you make it take off your clothes and then spread Baizhu's legs even more. He was completely out of his mind, whimpering and mewling, begging for your cum and finally reaching his orgasm.

With the three vines playing with his body, and your dick forcing its way inside his hole, Baizhu felt himself reach his end. The stimulation became too much as his eyes rolled back, the poor man almost choking on his own spit as tears rolled down the blushed skin of his cheeks.

It was overwhelming for him to focus on anything, just begging as greatly as he could to get a kiss, while moving his hips back against you, accompanying your thrusts. When finally, your lips met his in a gentle kiss, despite the situation, he came on the spot. His body was trembling, legs almost spamming around your neck as his head flew back, a loud moan forcing its way out of Baizhu's throat.

Never, had you heard him be this loud. And hypnotized by the view of your lover, your husband, cumming like crazy all over himself, you reach your orgasm. Each spurt of cum filled Baizhu more and more, making him whine from overstimulation.

His body gave out when he finally emptied himself, his body twitching and his mind still not completely functioning. With a whine, Baizhu tried to keep you from taking your dick out, begging to stay in this position.

His teary eyes and trembling lips made you give up, easily carrying him to bed, your dick still inside him as you lay down, covering yourselves with the blanket. Instantly, Baizhu was nuzzling his head into your neck, holding you close as he refused to even let you move to a more comfortable position.

With the aphrodisiac out of his mind, he asked you if you got rid of the plant, and relaxed when you told him that you burned it to the ground.

With a sigh, he softly glared at you, telling you to never bring a plant home ever again without his approval. Nodding your head energetically, you gently kissed his nose, earning a soft giggle.

Calmly, you both drifted off the sleep, Baizhu staying in your arms, not feeling like being apart from you. As your mind was almost blank, eyes closed and your breaths getting deeper, a few words whispered into your ear made your eyes snap open.

“Use your vision on me again, next time.”

“… I liked it.”

⏤ Thank you for reading! I wish you a great day.

⏤ here is my masterlist & ko-fi ⏤

[odiesdayoff]

Kinktober: Jonathan Crane

Pair: Jonathan Crane x fem!reader

Summary: Gotham's more of a nightmare than it used to be and Crane has his sights on you.

Warnings: On the tin. NON-CON (Kidnapping/Restraints/Leashes/Collars/Breeding)

You poured a fresh whiskey into a short glass over ice cubes, then pushed it to another faceless man sitting at the bar. Lights were flashing and the music was a bit too loud for your liking, but money was money and the protection that the job gave you was probably the only reason you were still a free woman.

The knock on the counter brought you from your serving-induced stupor. Oswald Cobblepot. “Hey, sweetheart. Need you to work a double tonight.” He pushed aside the man drinking the whiskey.

“Tonight? Isn’t Stacey scheduled after me?” You washed the shaker cup and placed it upside down to dry. As much as you needed the money, you’d much rather get home before it got too dark and monumentally more dangerous for you.

He sighed, reaching over the counter and pouring some of the whiskey into a free glass. “Got collared. Don’t know when or if she’ll come back.” Of course, the number one reason for the girls leaving the job. Two weeks ago, the bar staff and performers totaled 50. It was now 27.

You instinctively pursed your lips and took a deep breath. The thought of what she might’ve been going through was bad enough, but the reality was the truly horrifying part. Your freedom was slightly stealth, but mostly luck. “By who?”

“Firefly. I should have you all escorted home before these schlemiels steal all my girls.” He finished his drink and slammed it against the counter. “Eh, too much money.”

A few more men sat around the bar while he walked away. Of course he was not one to waste his money on something that actually protects his staff. Too busy spending it on drops and whatever other drugs that he can sell to his customers.  Asshole. 

Acts as if he doesn’t have a girl collared in his house. You’ve seen her once or twice. She’s pretty, but it was clear that he did a number on her before parading her around the club. “What the hell is wrong with this city?” One of the men finally asked as you handed him a dry martini.

“What isn’t wrong with it?” You grumbled under your breath, starting on the Manhattan for another one of the men. 

They laugh, a bit too loud. Clearly, this wasn’t the first bar they’d been to tonight. “No, seriously. Got mugged twice and we’ve only been here two days. All the women are on fucking leashes. Or people fucking out in the open.” He took a long sip of his drink, looking around at the debauchery still happening around the bar.

“You know how most cities have a hero? Ours was killed. Chaos ensued.” You mixed the drink, shaking the bottle. “Basically, they made a whole set of rules that give absolute control to those who fought Batman. Territory, people…you get it.”

The day that the Batman died was something you’d never forget, as if it was your life stopped at that moment the news broadcast was shown on every screen in the city. Nobody thought the Joker would be able to do it. Both Batman and the Joker were natural enemies, bound never to end their feud. 

Some say it was a mistake. But the second it happened, he had his plan to create chaos and eventually, everyone else followed suit. Just as his (somewhat) partner in crime, Harley Quinn, was planning on leaving him, he locked her onto him. With the same collar she used for her pets.

He let all of the inmates of Arkham escape, taught them the new rules, and everybody else had to play catch up or try to get out of the city as fast as possible. Especially after the mayor fell. Bella Reál was ambushed in her office by the newly escaped Riddler. Nobody has seen her since.

It felt like the shift lasted forever, but you appreciated the extra tips from the more drunken customers wishing they could fuck you and knowing they couldn’t. It was raining when you stepped outside, through the back where nobody could see. You threw your hood over your head and ran in the direction of your apartment.

It was well known that it was more dangerous than normal for a woman to be out at night. More likely to get caught by a man with a little bit of power under his belt. You were cutting through the alley right outside of your apartment when someone grabbed your arm.

The man yanked you back and pushed you against the wall. “Well, well, well. It’s been a while since I saw a free woman that was this gorgeous.”

His face was familiar, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. Your panicked state overrides facial recognition. “Who the fuck do you think you are? I have nothing to give you.”

He clicked his tongue, shaking his head as if you told a joke. “Let me tell you a bit about me. I fought the Bat more than you can imagine, which gives me more than enough of a right to pin you down and take what I want." His hand cupped your cheek and a finger glided across your quivering lips. "I pride myself as a man with class, so I'm going to take you home, give you a nice meal, then I'm going to shove my dick in you."

You fought against him, though he barely showed his struggle to keep you still. "You're really going to make me do this?" He rolled his eyes and reached into the briefcase-like bag around his shoulder. He pulled out a small leather collar, swiftly bringing it over your head and slipping it onto your neck.

The tightness of the collar restricted your breathing enough to stop you from struggling to save air and he wrapped the connecting leather strap around his hand. "There you go. Now you're on a leash. Happy?"

You spat at him. "No! I'm not fucking happy!"

He tugged at the leash, effectively pulling you to the black car that waited on the curb right outside of the alleyway's opening. You wondered how long he'd been preparing for this moment. How long he knew who you were.

~~

In the defense of Jonathan Crane, he did try to give you a nice dinner. The man cuffed you to a chair and made small talk as he cooked, then fed the meal to you. Of course, you refused it. Nothing could get you to accept this life, no matter how legal it was now.

His rough hands dragged you from the chair to the neatly made bed and he pushed you on your stomach, climbing on top of you.

"Don't make this harder than it needs to be, slut." He whispered hoarsely into your ear as he pulled the clothes from your body. The fabric of his pants dragged against your skin and the outline of his erection was unavoidable. "Get on your fucking hands and knees."

You had no choice but to obey, afraid of whatever he could do. Other than the obvious. He teased your opening with his leaking tip, then pushed into you without warning. His groans of pleasure drowned out the whimpers and cries coming from you.

He wasted no time in fucking you, taking what he wanted as he called it. His thrusts were hard and full of need. When was the last time he'd done something like this with someone else? Had he ever?

He wrapped the leash around his hand and pulled so that your head was up and facing the headboard. You choked, not that he showed any concern. "Bet you're used to this, huh? Leaving that club every day?"

He slapped your ass with his free hand. "Those days are over. You'll be my little housewife. Cook my meals. Wet my cock. Have my children."

He sped up, desperately chasing his high. He whimpered and laid his chest against your back, pushing himself as far as he possibly could. That's when you felt it. That overwhelming warmth inside of you that you knew could only be one thing.

"Don't think it's over now. Still have to make sure it sticks."

[candycandy00]

The Doll House - A Choso x Reader Fanfic Part 2

When your younger sister is tricked into selling herself to the Doll House, you rush there to help her, only to find her being led away by her trainer, Choso. Moved by your desire to save your sister, he convinces the owner to let you take her place.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Read Geto’s Part Here!

Read Toji’s Part Here!

Read Nanami’s Part Here!

Read Sukuna’s Part Here!

Read Gojo’s Part Here!

Note: Please remember that these stories don’t take place at the same time, or even one after the other! Consider each one its own timeline. So if you see Geto and Toji with other dolls, don’t be alarmed lol. I had to do it this way because if I don’t, by the time I get to the last trainer, there won’t be any other trainers left to interact with!

AU! Each trainer will get their own story! This is Choso’s. I’m keeping the tag list from previous parts. If you’d like to be tagged in future parts, let me know! You must be an adult to be tagged! Any feedback whatsoever is adored!

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. FemDom. Sub Choso. Oral sex. Woman on top. Bondage. Divider by @benkeibear!

Choso is so fucking cute. That’s the main thought in your head as you look down at him. He’s sitting in a chair in his room, his hands gripping the armrests, exactly where you told him to keep them. His shirt is gone, and his pants are open, his thick, pretty cock standing at attention, already glistening at the tip. 

When you pressed him to tell you what sorts of activities he enjoys most, he finally admitted that he loves to be teased. So you read up about it online to get some ideas. If he won’t teach you, the internet surely will. 

So today you instructed him to sit in the chair like this and watch while you strip, forbidden from touching you or himself.

It was a little embarrassing at first, even though he’s seen you mostly naked already. But now that you’re fully nude, and you can watch the effect it has on his body as his cock twitches and drips, you’re starting to enjoy it. 

You move closer to him, so close that your legs brush against his knees. He looks up at you with such a needy expression, desperate to touch or be touched. He’s gripping the armrests so tightly, you can see the veins in his forearms. 

Finally, you show mercy. You reach down with one hand and place one finger on the tip of his cock, using it to move the hot, leaky organ side to side. His breath hitches as you play with him, moving your finger up and down, watching the precum stretch between your finger and his tip. 

Suddenly you grip his shaft with your hand, then slide it up and down. Choso groans and jerks, his fingers digging into the wood of the armrests. 

“Don’t cum until I tell you to,” you say, increasing your speed as you lean over him, your tits practically in his face. 

“Y-yes, Mistress,” he answers, sweat beading on his forehead. 

With your other hand, you rub down from his shoulder to his chest, your fingers ghosting over his nipple. He’s so taut! Meanwhile, your thumb circles his tip gently, spreading his fluid around. 

He whimpers, closing his eyes for a moment when you move your hand down his torso and then into his open pants, softly squeezing his balls. His cock is twitching so much in your other hand, you can practically feel his heart beating through it. 

You keep stroking him, loving the cute sounds he’s making, the dazed look in his pretty eyes as he stares up at you. 

“Mistress… please…”

“Not yet,” you tell him, alternating between fast strokes and slow, gentle ones. He’s breathing hard, his eyes wide. He’s just about reached his limit. 

“You’re being such a good boy for me,” you say, “so I’ll give you a reward.” Then you lean your face down and lick his wet tip with quick, feathery motions before wrapping your lips around it. 

His whole body goes rigid. “Ahh… Mistress… your tongue…”

You swirl it around him, then press it into his tip, as if you’re trying to dig out his cum manually. Finally, you pull away, licking your lips. Your hand, still gripping his cock, presses it upwards so that it’s angled toward his torso. 

“Cum for me,” you say, and he does. His hot gooey load lands on his stomach and chest, then begins sliding down as he pants. You lean forward and begin licking it up, your tongue running over his smooth skin and tight muscles. 

When finished, you stand back and look at him. His face is slightly pink, his hair disheveled, his body covered in a sheen of sweat. He looks beautiful. 

Once he catches his breath, he looks up at you with the cutest, hungry expression. 

“Do you want something?” you ask teasingly. 

His eyes shift to your pussy. It’s soaking wet after all this. 

“May I pleasure you, Mistress?”

Ahhh! He’s so perfect! You keep a straight face while your heart pounds furiously. “Yes, you may,” you reply, moving to sit on the edge of his bed and opening your legs. 

You’ve had him eat you out several times now, and it never gets old. The things he can do with his mouth… you’re starting to wonder if you robbed your sister instead of saved her. 

But all those thoughts leave you when he crawls over to you, burying his face in your pussy. 

*************************

Choso can’t help stealing glances at his doll as she moves around the room, helping clean up after their session. He can’t remember another doll who actually helped with this, at least so early in the training. She also practices at least a basic level of aftercare, asking Choso how he feels after they’re done and being affectionate. 

All this without being explicitly taught to do so. Is it because she’s an older sibling, like him? Perhaps that instilled a more nurturing and responsible mindset. 

He’s also pleased that she picked up on one of the most important aspects of this type of relationship so early on: asking what your partner wants. She has continuously asked Choso what he likes and what he wants to do, and has incorporated that into the their sessions. It usually takes several weeks for a doll to start doing that regularly. Most either command Choso to do humiliating things just because they get caught up in the power fantasy, or just outright refuse to give him any orders without a ton of prodding and coaching. 

Maybe this doll is simply a natural dom. 

She sits down on his bed and pulls out her phone. Most trainers limit their dolls’ use of their phones, as it can be a distraction from the training, but Choso has never done that. Like his current doll, many of them look online for ideas to use in their sessions, and he appreciates their effort. 

But this one also uses her phone for other things. Her face lights up so prettily when she’s texting her sister. She’s smiling so brightly, she must have read some good news. 

“She’s signed up to start college classes next semester!” she announces, looking proud. 

Choso walks over to sit beside her. “That’s great,” he says, smiling with her. “It sounds like she’s getting her life back on track.”

“I hope so. Maybe this was the push she needed. If it takes giving up ten years of my life to get hers straightened out, it’s worth it.”

He looks at her admiringly. “You’re a wonderful sister.”

She grins, but looks a little bashful. “Thanks. That means a lot.” Then her face turns serious. “Can I ask you something?”

He nods. “Of course.”

“If, when Yuji’s grown up, he started dating someone who was dangerous, who was clearly making his life worse, what would you do?”

Choso considers the question for a moment, then says, “If that person was a real, legitimate threat to Yuji’s safety, I think I would want to kill them.”

Her eyes widen, as if caught off guard by that response. But Choso quickly goes on. “However, doing so would hurt Yuji as well if he were in love with them. So even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t. I think I would just try to watch over him, encourage him to separate from them, and just be there when he needs me.”

There’s a warmth to her expression when she says, “That’s what I’ve been doing. At times I was scared I wasn’t doing enough. Maybe I should have called the cops and reported some of the stuff I knew her boyfriend was involved in. But getting him arrested would have made her cry. And sometimes I felt like I should just butt out and let her live her life how she chooses. In the end, I did neither.”

“In my opinion, you did the right thing,” Choso tells her. 

“Thanks,” she says. “I’m really glad you’re my trainer. I don’t think I could have talked about this with the others.”

Choso laughs. “That’s probably true. I get along with all of them, but they can be a little… eccentric.”

Not long after, the two of them go to the dining hall for dinner. The doll insists Choso sits at the table with her, and she has forbidden him from calling her “Mistress” outside of their sessions. 

“That stuff is fun in bed,” she told him a couple of days ago, “but otherwise, can’t we just be two people getting to know each other? I’d like for us to be friends at the end of this.”

It’s a very unusual attitude to take in this situation, but Choso doesn’t mind it. In fact, Choso is beginning to enjoy the normal conversations they share almost as much as their training sessions. 

She sits down with a plate and begins picking at her food. He finds it charming how she cuts up her meat before starting, probably a habit from taking care of her sister. She doesn’t seem to notice him watching, instead looking out over the room. 

“You know, when I first got here, I assumed all the trainers were depraved perverts,” she says. “Now, I still think they’re pretty depraved, but they also seem nice. I guess I shouldn’t judge people so quickly.”

Then she catches Choso staring at her and adds, “I’m sorry I made assumptions about you.”

He shakes his head. “It’s understandable, considering what I do for a living.”

She smiles at him. “You really are a nice guy, aren’t you?”

He smiles back. “I try.”

**************************

After discovering Choso’s stash of toys and tools, neatly arranged in a bottom dresser drawer of all places, you spent an afternoon looking through them and coming up with ideas. When you spotted a pair of shiny metal handcuffs, you couldn’t resist. 

So today, Choso is lying on his back in his bed, naked, his arms above his head. He’s handcuffed to the headboard, his toned chest rising and falling with his breaths. You’ve already stroked his cock until it’s hard, stopping when you thought he was getting a little too close to the edge. You want to draw this out. 

You’re wearing nothing but a cropped white T-shirt, so short your tits almost hang out beneath it. You can see it in Choso’s eyes - if his hands were free he’d be sliding them under that shirt. But he enjoys being teased, and you intend to make the most of it. 

You climb onto the bed, straddling his legs, your body tantalizingly close to his cock. You haven’t actually fucked him yet, having enough fun with other activities, but you’ve decided you can’t wait any longer. So you scoot closer, until your soft wet pussy presses against the underside of his cock, standing straight up from his body. 

He draws in a sharp breath, his head rising from the pillow to look down as you slide yourself up and down, smearing your juices over his shaft. Even just rubbing your slit against him like this feels amazing. He apparently agrees, as his tip begins leaking and his breaths come faster. 

“Mistress, please…” he moans, looking up at your eyes. 

You keep rubbing as you smile down at him. “Please what?”

He groans as you slide yourself across his tip, getting so close. “Please, let me be inside you…”

When you pause, hovering with your entrance directly above his cock, then lower yourself barely an inch, Choso’s hands jerk at the cuffs, his body bucking off the bed, trying to enter you. But you’re quick to rise up, denying him the pleasure. 

“Bad boy!” you say, pulling away from him. He groans as his head falls back onto the pillow. 

You wait for a moment, watching his cock twitch, before resuming your position just above him. “Can you be good for me?” you ask. 

“Yes, Mistress! I’ll be so good for you!” he says, looking so needy and cute. 

“Then I’ll treat you like a good boy,” you say, finally sinking down onto him, his rock hard cock plunging into you from below. 

“Ah, fuck…” you mutter, realizing perhaps a bit too late that he’s bigger than he looks, more girth than you expected. He’s definitely bigger than any of your previous lovers, and even with him remaining still, letting you control the depth and force, it’s a bit of a challenge to take him all the way in. 

But you do, sliding down until your bottom hits his torso. Choso groans, his head tossed back, his lips parted. “You feel so good, Mistress,” he says. 

You begin riding him, lifting yourself up and down, moving your hips in circular patterns. Your own breaths are hitching now as you keep one hand pressed into his chest and the other snakes up your body, slightly lifting your shirt. Choso jerks against the cuffs again, his eyes glued to your body, clearly desperate to touch you. 

He lifts his hips from the bed each time you sink down, thrusting into you. It’s the only thing he can do, but it’s hitting your sweet spot so perfectly. You moan and move both hands to his shoulders, leaning forward and bracing yourself with your arms. 

“Mistress,” he says, his voice nearly breaking, “can I please… cum inside you?”

“Not yet,” you answer, your face close to his now as your hips keep moving. Leaning forward this way puts pressure on your clit, creating such delicious friction. Only a few minutes of this pushes you over the edge, and you cum on his cock as you say, “Do it, now!”

Choso must have been ready to burst, as he immediately fills your clenching pussy with his cum while looking up into your eyes. You drop down onto him, as deeply as possible, your body trembling. 

For a while, the two of you simply stay like this, him buried inside you, until you both catch your breath. Then you ease off him, cum dripping out of you, and reach for the key to the handcuffs lying on the nightstand. You unlock the cuffs and Choso lowers his arms as you collapse onto him, lying on top of his body. His arms encircle you, and you think you could stay like this forever. 

Later, the two of you are cleaning up when Choso’s phone chimes. He pulls it from his pocket and looks at the screen for a moment before a smile crosses his face. He looks up at you, beaming. 

“Yuji is coming to spend the day with me tomorrow!”

Tag List:

@suguguro @kaedear @onyxsphynx @poopoobuttsy @butterskyy @collectionofdolls @akaotv @witchbybirth @bloofinntoona @wasurenagusaa @tclbts @tojirin @lucyrocks86 @badbyeyoongi @97britt @aydene @lzaj19 @lyn-lotte @missthatgirl @peachedtv @ladytamayolover @nanam1nx @deegausserr @voids-universe @hinata7346 @maflorex @issracollen @xkittiecatx @ryumurin @emrys3456 @mysecretesc8pe @typicalloser3 @gabriiiiiiii @fvsm4x @tyunhyukamyloves @rottmntrulesall @jakeywon @better-imagination-9 @wealwayskeepfighting @denenene @tomura-complex

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

Wifi the images for FL figure is out and damn I am so tempted to give in and order one holy shit

I KNOW I'M GOING INSANE OH MY GOSH I WANT ONE SO BAD BUT IT'S EXPENSIVEEEEEEEE AND IT'LL SELL OUT SO FAST

this is making me think of getting a Foul Legacy figurine, your favorite character from your favorite game. he doesn't get a lot of merch because he's tied to Childe, the actual playable character- so anything you can get, you cherish beyond belief. he's placed right on your desk so you can pretend he's cheering you on- or so you think, until a twitch of movement draws your attention and you find your Foul Legacy figurine, very alive and still just as small, sitting curiously next to your mouse and watching the screen in awe. you yell in surprise, and he jumps with a squeak as your chair tips back and you tumble onto the floor. there's a tap and a light thump as he hops onto your chest, cheeping and staring down at you worriedly, not at all concerned with anything but you

he's never apart from you afterwards, clambering onto your shoulder or curling up in your arms. even sneaking curiously into your backpack. it's a new world for Foul Legacy, one to be seen while cradled in your hands. he doesn't really remember Teyvat- it's there, vaguely, in the back of his mind. but it doesn't sound any more appealing than being with you, immensely less so. you cradle him and love him as if he's your fondest treasure, and Legacy basks in your affection, soaking up what he's so missed from his dusty, faded life of before. sometimes he watches you play, seeing himself always in that same house of gold and coins, tilting his head and wondering what he was like back then, all strong and brutal with lightning and rain at his fingertips

but then he sees you again, your finger petting his head, and he doesn't care anymore

[charile0]

Sell Your Home Quickly: The Benefits of Cash Home Buyers in Birmingham

If you're looking to sell your property fast and hassle-free, working with cash home buyers in Birmingham could be the perfect solution. Whether you’re facing financial challenges, relocating, or just want to sell your house quickly, cash home buyers offer a fast and reliable alternative to traditional property sales. In this blog, we’ll explore the benefits of choosing a Birmingham property buyer, and how they can help you secure the best cash offer for your house.

A cash home buying company specializes in purchasing properties directly from homeowners, often in as-is condition, allowing you to skip the lengthy process of repairs, viewings, and waiting for mortgage approval. With the rise of expert property buying companies, you can sell your property online and receive a fair cash offer in just days. This makes selling your property quickly more accessible than ever before.

Discover why working with cash buyers for UK homes is becoming the go-to choice for many homeowners. We’ll cover how these companies provide a seamless experience, ensuring you get cash for your home without the usual delays or complications. Ready to sell your home? Explore how a cash offer can help you sell your property fast and efficiently.

[heartlandfundinginc]

8 Signs It Is Time To Sell Your House In Peoria

If you're wondering whether it's time to sell your house in Peoria, check out these 8 signs. From space concerns to costly repairs, this article can help you decide if selling is the best move for your future.

[asherbrien]

6 Tips To Sell Your Home Fast

Selling  your home fast for cash requires strategic planning and effective execution. Whether due to a time-sensitive move or the desire to expedite the selling process, these tips can help you sell your home fast.

Set the Right Price: Pricing your home competitively is essential for a quick sale. Research comparable properties in your neighborhood and consult with a real estate agent to determine a realistic and attractive listing price. A well-priced home is more likely to generate interest and receive offers promptly.

Enhance Curb Appeal: First impressions matter. Boost your home’s curb appeal to attract potential buyers from the moment they arrive. Simple tasks like landscaping, fresh paint, and a well-maintained exterior can make a significant difference. A welcoming and visually appealing exterior sets a positive tone for the entire show.

Declutter and Depersonalize: Create a clean and neutral environment by decluttering and depersonalizing your home. Remove personal items, excessive furniture, and clutter to allow potential buyers to envision themselves in the space. Neutralize color schemes and décor to appeal to a broader range of tastes. A well-organized, neutral home helps buyers see its potential.

Professional Photography: Invest in professional photography to showcase your home in the best light online. High-quality photos can significantly impact the perception of your property and attract more potential buyers. Clear, well-lit images highlight your home’s features, making it stand out in online listings and marketing materials.

Be Flexible with Showings: Maximize the number of potential buyers by being flexible with showing times. Accommodate evening and weekend showings to reach a broader audience. The more accessible your home is for showings, the higher the chances of finding a motivated buyer quickly. Consider temporary accommodations if necessary to allow for frequent showings.

Utilize Effective Marketing: Implement a robust marketing strategy to reach a wide audience. Leverage online platforms, social media, and traditional marketing methods to showcase your home. Engage with a real estate agent who has a strong online presence and can effectively market your property. Highlight your home’s unique features and create compelling listings to capture buyer interest.

Additional Tips for a Faster Sale:

Address Repairs and Updates: Attend to any necessary repairs or updates to present your home in the best condition. Fixing minor issues can prevent them from becoming deal-breakers during inspections.

Offer Incentives: Consider offering incentives to attract buyers. This could include covering closing costs, providing a home warranty, or including appliances. Incentives can sweeten the deal and motivate potential buyers to act quickly.

Stage Your Home: Professional staging can make your home more appealing to buyers. If hiring a professional stager is not feasible, focus on creating inviting and well-arranged spaces that showcase your home’s potential.

Engage a Real Estate Professional: A skilled real estate agent with experience in your local market can be instrumental in selling your home quickly. They bring expertise in pricing, marketing, and negotiating, streamlining the selling process.

Highlight Energy Efficiency: If your home has energy-efficient features, emphasize them in your marketing. Today’s buyers often prioritize energy efficiency, and showcasing these features can set your home apart from others.

Selling your home quickly involves a combination of strategic pricing, presentation, marketing, and flexibility. By setting the right price, enhancing curb appeal, decluttering, utilizing professional photography, accommodating showings, and implementing effective marketing, you can increase the likelihood of a fast and successful home sale. Additional tips, such as addressing repairs, offering incentives, staging, and engaging a real estate professional, further contribute to a streamlined and efficient selling process.

[pinkjako]

Midnight rides

sfw sebastian sdv x gn reader

word count: 870

author’s note: hii i’m new to writing fanfics and whatnot so this isn’t super good but i’m working on improving my writing and stuff also this is pretty short so… enjoy!!!

after a long day of killing slimes and getting beaten up by cave bats, all you wanted to do was to go home. barely walking, you decide to take the shortcut next to robin’s. not paying attention to your surroundings and focusing on how many parsnips you’ll need to sell to afford a house upgrade, someone calls out.

“farmer! hey, um i’m going for a ride.”

you turn and it’s robin’s son, sebastian. you’ve seen him a few times and even played a game of solarian chronicles together, but you’ve never really hung out together — alone. the only conversations you had together were mainly just small talk, but you always end up walking away with butterflies. something about his pretty eyes and his cheeky smile makes you want to throw up (with love obvi.)

“uh…do you want to — go on a ride…together? like right now.”

his words snap you out of your trance and like a lightbulb your face lights up.

“on your bike? oh um yeah sure!”

play it cool. play it cool. you secretly hope that sebastian can’t tell how fast your heart is racing or how sweaty your palms are or how you’re about to vomit all over him. you leave your backpack next to his front door and sebastian picks up a helmet for you.

“what about you? you’re the one driving, you need a helmet more than i do.”

“i don’t want anything happening to you. i’ve gotten in to multiple crashes so my body’s used to it. i would never forgive myself if something happened to you.”

he muttered that last part under his breath while putting the helmet on you and securing it in to place. luckily for him, you didn’t hear. you were too focused on how the his hair looks so soft and how good he smells.

“how do i look? badass, right?”

“epic. get on and hold tight.”

you’re beyond grateful for this helmet because your face is bright red at this point. it takes you a few tries to swing your leg over his bike properly, but when you do, you secure your arms tightly around his waist and he pats your knee to reassure you. sebastian kicks the stand and you’re off. giggling as you pick up speed, you rest your head on his shoulder. you don’t know it, but he’s smiling like a schoolgirl and his heart feels like he’s about to explode. the prettiest girl he’s ever seen with her arms wrapped around him on his bike on a romantic ride in to the night. both of you are oblivious to the fat crushes you both have on each other. the bike slowly comes to a stop as you reach the cliff. you both get off and sebastian leads you to the edge.

“beautiful, isn’t it?”

“that’s zuzu city, right? wow, bigger than i thought.”

“yeah, it’s amazing. i’ve always had plans on leaving this crappy place, moving to the city and getting a real job.”

“what’s stopping you?”

“…you.”

your heart literally stopped and it felt like the world was about to collapse. you were staring at the city, attempting to build up the courage to look at him. eventually when you did, sebastian was standing there with a bouquet of your favorite flowers. a conversation with leah replayed in your head and you remembered her telling you that a bouquet means that someone wants to have a relationsh- wait a moment. your face is burning red as you realized what was happening. you literally felt like your insides were becoming outsides and your palms are sweaty and your face is melting and you are melting but there’s this beautiful boy in front of you with the cutest smile and the prettiest face and all you want to do is kiss him. and that’s what you do. cupping his face and pulling him in. it takes sebastian a moment to realize what’s going on, but when he does, he matches your pace and kisses you back. one hand holding the bouquet and the other hand gently on your hip, he kisses the tip of your nose and you both lock eyes for a moment.

“um…i’ve liked you for a while now and uh i wanted to give you this bouquet and i don’t really know if you know what it means but — it means that i want us to be um…together. sorry, i’m not really good at this…”

you’re smiling and blushing like a fool. sebastian’s face is as red as yours. two lovesick idiots confessing feelings for each other. how romantic.

“i also really like you. and yeah um, i accept!!”

he gives you the bouquet and you kiss again, this time one hand is cupping your cheek and the other is on your hip, bringing you closer. both of you wished the night would never end. neither of you felt like going back home so you both sat on the edge of the cliff and talked. his arm was around your waist making sure you wouldn’t fall and his other hand was holding yours. this night was perfect — he was perfect. sebastian wasn’t completely sure if he wanted to stay in the valley, but this night made his decision very clear. no matter what, he’ll never leave your side. and you knew that you’d never leave his.

————————————————————————

thank you for reading!! this was my take on the 10 heart event and i kinda wished that like the towns people could ask the farmer out…but it’s fine!! anyways, thanks for reading :))

reposts, likes and comments are greatly appreciated!!! <33

[nothaykey]

Tips for getting dnp tickets!!

1. If using Ticketmaster you can refresh when you’re in the waiting room, but DO NOT refresh once you’re in the queue. It will kick you out.

2. Ticketmaster called the gold VIPs VIP 1 and silver VIP 2 for me.

3. Sometimes VIP tickets will just pop up even after it says there any any available. Stay on the page and refresh your search (not your actual browser window). People abandon their carts and when they do those tickets become available again.

4. Gold VIP with fees was about $220 for me. Silver was around $150 I believe.

5. GA sold fast for front of house but I wouldn’t worry about GA selling out.

Good luck to the rest of the US. Y’all got this :))

[zippidi-dooda]

1 - Chance Encounter

It was quiet for now.

Your son was still fast asleep in your bedroom leaving you a chance to relax. He was adorable but such a handful despite being one boy. Always running off without warning.

"What am I going to do with you?" You smiled. Leaning against the door frame, you watched the dark haired boy sleep for a moment. 

He looked so peaceful right now; his e/c eyes finally shut, drool dripping from his mouth, his chest falling and rising steadily. It calmed you. 

You did all you could to keep him out of trouble and so far he was still safe.

But there was a few close calls. 

You decided it'd be easier for you to raise him and protect him by living far from the kingdom. Away from the place he lived.

Which is why you lived here.

Deep in the woods in a formerly abandoned cabin.

It had only been about a week since you'd arrived here and you had been able to spruce up the place. The once dingy, cobwebbed house was thoroughly cleaned and dusted, the leaky ceiling mostly repaired, the doors all replaced, and the wild critters kicked out.

You had yet to repair the furniture but it has, so far, given you no problem using so you'd be fine continuing to use it until you got around to the task.

It had taken you a long time, and a lot of bribing, to get this far out, unannounced, with your son. Your son, Lucas, didn't enjoy the traveling at all and made it very clear. But it was worth every second.

You doubted anyone else would get this close to the Valley of Thorns.

You certainly wouldn't if you weren't in your situation.

But you were, so you did. And you had yet to meet any beastly beings since getting here. Perhaps all the awful stories you heard about the place were wrong.

Then again, you weren't actually in the Valley so maybe that was why you were undisturbed.

Whatever the case, you and your son were finally free.

You walked towards the kitchen, the floor creaking as you went (you'd need to fix that soon) and got started on dinner.

You had few rations left now and had already begun growing a garden outside, but it'd take a while for anything to grow. Meaning you'd need to scavenge for food soon.

Or trek into the Valley of Thorns and hope no one would be hostile towards an outsider like you and sell you something.

You didn't know if your money had value here, so going there may not be beneficial.

You shook your head. It'd be best to worry about it when the time came.

So you pulled up your sleeves, tied your hair back, started up the fireplace, and began preping something from the cured meats and vegetables you had.

It wasn't long before you heard a low, mellow voice call from behind you.

"Who are you?"

You flinched, spinning around quickly to face a strange man standing by the front door. 

The first thing you noticed was the pair of dark horns sitting atop his head.

Your heart began to race. "You're . . ."

You knew exactly who he was.

He was tall, his horned head almost hitting the roof of the house. His skin was pale as porcelain, eyes lime green and almost glowing. Pointed ears peeked out from his long pitch black hair which faded to a deep blue at the tips.

He wore black clothes which covered his body entirely, no amount of skin other than his face and neck showing. 

He was . . . "Gorgeous."

His thin brows raised in shock and he continued to stare at you for a moment. Then he let out a laugh. It was deep and alluring. Fitting for an heir to the throne.

"I must say I dont hear that very often. How unexpected. Although you still haven't answered my question, Child of Man."

Your eyes flitted towards the bedroom for a second before you focused your attention back on the man.

"It's quite rude to ask a lady her name before stating your own."

His eyes narrowed but he continued to smile. "Quite so. But seeing as you've come here unannounced I say different manners come to play here."

"I'm unannounced?" You turned towards the counter, reached for the knife, and began to cut the meat. Again. "You're the one who walked in without even knocking first."

The man hummed. "I apologize. But I've never came here with a need to do so. As far as I know, this place has been abandoned."

"Not anymore." You were racking your brain for a plan to protect your son in case this man decided to do something.

He was very, very powerful, if he tried something you'd have no real way of winning against him. 

So the most you could do was hope he'd just go away.

"Really?" 

You froze feeling his breath lightly against your ear. He stood right next to you now. And not a sound was made as he moved. 

That shouldn't have been possible.

"And what exactly brings you here? Most would prefer to live in a place close to others. If something were to happen to you out here, no one would ever know."

You gulped and began chopping again.

Lucas, please dont wake up. Stay in that room.

"W-well," You cleared your throat. "Shouldn't a prince like you be in their palace learing to rule a kingdom?"

The man leaned away from you. "So you know who I am? Most would run in fear at the sight of me. Fascinating . . . ."

He lifted a finger at you causing the knife in your hands to slip from your grasp and float onto the counter. 

"You'll have nothing to eat if you continue cutting it so finely."

"Yes. But maybe I like it that way."

He hummed. "You're a strange one. What is your name, Child of Man?"

Was it safe to answer? 

Just as you were about to open your mouth to speak a different voice spoke.

"Mom, can I play outside?"

You bit your tongue and quickly walked over to your son who was walking over to you.

"Not now, sweetie. Dinner is almost ready, just go wait in the room."

You tried ushering Lucas back to the room, out of sight of the fae standing in the kitchen. 

But his eyes grew wide as he spotted the man and he wasted no time bounding over to him. It was as if he hadn't just woke up moments ago. You began to sweat, praying that the man wouldn't do anything to your boy.

Lucas smiled from ear to ear and jumped carelessly on the man who thankfully or unthankfully (you weren't sure yet) caught him in his arms.

"Daddy!"

Both the fae's and your eyes widened in shock at the boy's statement. 

"'Daddy?'"

"No, sweetie. That's not-"

"Dad, why didn't you come visit me? I missed you."

Lucas frowned angrily and punched the man's chest. 

"You were supposed to come for my birthdays but you didn't! You're mean."

You and the man stared at the boy incredulously.

You quickly rushed over to the pair and tried to take Lucas. "I am so sorry. Lucas, that is not your dad. Say sorry right now."

The boy held on tightly to the man, refusing to go to you, and said, "Yes he is. Look, we have the same hair and he's making dinner for us. He's my dad."

Oh to have the logic of a child once again.

Though you suppose this misunderstanding was your fault. You still hadn't told him the truth about his actual father. He was still under the impression that his dad was just traveling the world and wouldn't be back for a long time.

"Please forgive him. He's just a child."

The man simply began to laugh again, not seeming to take offense. That was good. You hoped.

"How amusing. I never imagined I'd be called that before. What an interesting pair you two are."

He set Lucas down on the ground

"I am not your father though, child. And I must be going now. Farewell, you two." 

Then, in the blink of an eye, he vanished leaving behind a few green fireflies where he once stood.

"Woww!" 

Lucas looked on in awe and reached towards the light bugs.

"Dad's so cool!"

You frowned. 

At least the fae was gone. And hopefully didn't come back.

"Lucas, he isn't your Dad. That's Malleus Draconia."

Masterlist

2 - A little Trip

[thirtysomethingloser92]

Chapter 1: Does It Ever Drive You Crazy, Just How Fast The Night Changes.

Summary: After a decade away, you return to Boone County, stirring up old tensions and unresolved feelings with Jimmy Logan, the man who never truly let you go. As Clyde watches the two of you navigate the weight of your shared past, it becomes clear that your return isn’t just a visit—it’s a collision with emotions neither of you can ignore.

Pairings: Jimmy Logan/Reader Warnings: Angst, Smut, Slow-Burn, Swearing.

Clyde Logan didn’t need to hear the whispers to know why Jimmy’s first marriage didn’t work out. Everyone in Boone County had their theories, their own version of the truth. Some said it was the drinking—Jimmy tipping back a bottle to quiet the weight of too many years of bad breaks. Others said Bobby-Jo just wanted more than what Jimmy could give: a small-town miner with a busted knee and bigger dreams than he could ever reach for. She got tired of the struggle, of the sameness, of living in a place where everyone knew your business before you did. That’s why she left, they’d say.

But Clyde? Clyde knew better. He always did.

The truth was quieter than all that, a whisper carried in the spaces between people’s words. The truth was something no one really said out loud, but everyone in Boone County knew deep down: Jimmy Logan had never really been Bobby-Jo’s to lose.

Jimmy’s heart had always belonged to someone else. To you.

It was a hard thing to explain, this kind of knowing. You couldn’t point to one moment or one look and say, There. That’s when he gave himself away. But it was there, as plain as the day was long, woven into the fabric of who he was. It was in the way he carried himself, like part of him wasn’t fully present, like he was always holding something back. Like he was living a life he didn’t fully believe in. It was in the way his eyes would drift toward the horizon when the day got quiet, his hands stilling mid-wrench at home as though he expected to see a car pull in, you behind the wheel, ready to bring the sunshine back to his gray days.

And Bobby-Jo? She must have known it too. She wasn’t stupid, no matter what people said about her. A woman can always tell when she’s playing second fiddle in her own marriage. She’d spent years competing with a ghost she could never hope to beat. You weren’t just someone from Jimmy’s past; you were the pulse that kept his heart beating. And even though you’d been gone a long time, you were still here, in the house he wouldn’t sell, in the songs he wouldn’t play because they reminded him too much of you, in the way he looked at his daughter, Sadie, with a mix of pride and guilt, like he wanted her to have every happiness he thought he didn’t deserve.

Clyde could see it every time Jimmy smiled—those rare, fleeting moments when his brother forgot himself and let something real slip through. It wasn’t Bobby-Jo that put that look in his eyes. It never had been. And maybe that’s why Jimmy stayed quiet when she left, why they didn’t fight harder to hold on. You couldn’t hold on to something that was never really yours to begin with.

Sometimes, Clyde wondered if you knew. If you truly understood how much space you took up in his brother’s life—not just in the big moments but in the quiet, unnoticed ones, the ones that stretched on even now, after so many years. Maybe you did know. Maybe that’s why you left in the first place—because you felt it too, that heavy, soul-deep truth: being someone’s everything in a world that barely gave you room to be yourself. Or maybe you didn’t know at all. Maybe that was the cruelest part of it. That Jimmy Logan had handed you his heart, piece by piece, and you never realized you were holding it.

But Clyde had known. He’d known long before Bobby-Jo came along, before Sadie, before life happened the way it always seems to in Boone County: slow and inevitable. He’d seen it when you and Jimmy were still just kids, the kind of pair that made people smile and shake their heads, as if you were something out of a story they’d heard a hundred times but still couldn’t get enough of.

It wasn’t just Clyde who saw it, either. Everyone knew. Your parents used to sit on the porch with cold beers in their hands, their laughter spilling out into the evening air whenever you and Jimmy came into view.

“Well, looks like our girl’s gone and fallen for a Logan boy,” your dad would say, shaking his head like it was some grand cosmic joke. But there was always a softness in his voice, like he didn’t mind the idea as much as he pretended to.

Your mom would try to hide her grin, covering it with her hand. “Out of all the boys in Boone County, it had to be one of them. Lord help us if those two ever decide to have kids.” She’d laugh, but there was a kind of affection in her teasing, the kind that came from knowing something real when she saw it.

And you’d roll your eyes, brushing them off as you ducked back into the kitchen, but Jimmy? Jimmy would just duck his head and smile, that quiet, crooked grin that always found its way to his face when you were around. He never denied it. Hell, he never even tried.

Looking back, the signs had always been there, plain as day. Jimmy was like your shadow back then, always at your side, always finding some excuse to come over after school. Maybe he’d mumble something about needing a wrench or a second set of hands for the truck, but everyone knew it wasn’t the truck he cared about. It was you.

He’d sit with you on the back steps of your porch, the two of you framed by the fading light of the day, as you talked about everything and nothing at all. You’d tell him about your dreams—about leaving Boone County behind, finding something bigger, something that didn’t feel so small. He wouldn’t say much, but he didn’t need to. The way he looked at you, like you were the only thing in the world that mattered, said more than words ever could. Like he was torn between wanting you to have everything you dreamed of and praying you’d stay right there with him.

And you? You weren’t exactly subtle, either. The way your eyes lit up when you saw him, the way you laughed at his jokes—especially the bad ones, the ones so lame they wouldn’t have landed with anyone else. You trusted him in a way that was deeper than most people ever got to know. With Jimmy, you were safe. Everyone could see it. Everyone knew.

Clyde had spent years piecing together the love story between you and Jimmy, not because it was a mystery—far from it—but because it was written in moments so vivid, so undeniably real, that they stuck with him. He’d seen it plain as day, even when neither of you could admit it to yourselves. The way Jimmy looked at you, the way you lit up when he was around—it was a kind of love that people in Boone County didn’t talk about much but sure as hell recognized when they saw it.

At school, Jimmy was your shadow, your protector. He wasn’t a loud guy—never had been—but when it came to you, he didn’t need words to make himself clear. Clyde could still remember that time in shop class, clear as a bell. Some idiot had made a comment about you, something snide and cutting enough to make the whole room go quiet. Jimmy didn’t even look up at first, just kept working on whatever carburetor or transmission he had in his hands. But when the guy didn’t shut up, Jimmy set his tools down, got up, and walked over without a word.

He didn’t throw a punch, didn’t raise his voice. He just reached out, knocked the guy’s wrench clean off the table, and gave him a look that could’ve stopped a freight train. Clyde didn’t know what Jimmy said to the guy—if he said anything at all—but it worked. After that, no one so much as looked at you funny when Jimmy was around.

It wasn’t just school, either. Even at home, during those Sunday dinners when your family invited the Logans over, Jimmy stuck to your side like he’d been born there. He didn’t make a big show of it, didn’t try to draw attention. He’d just naturally drift toward you, like a moth to a flame, taking the seat next to you at the picnic table, passing you the bread or refilling your glass before you even realized you needed it.

Mellie had a field day with it, of course. She was never one to let an opportunity for teasing pass her by.

“God, Jimmy, why don’t you just ask her to date you already?” she’d laugh the second you got up to grab another plate or check on dessert. “She’s the only reason you even come to these things.”

Jimmy’s ears would turn red, that faint blush creeping up the back of his neck, but he’d just shrug, acting like Mellie’s words didn’t faze him. Clyde, sitting a few seats down, would shake his head at the sheer obviousness of it all. Jimmy didn’t have to say anything, and neither did you. It was written all over the way you sat next to each other, the way you leaned into him without thinking, the way his gaze followed you every time you moved. Jimmy loved you. And you? You loved him right back.

That’s why it floored everyone when you got that scholarship to a fancy college in New York and Jimmy didn’t so much as flinch. You’d told the group one night on your porch, your voice filled with excitement but your eyes darting to Jimmy every few seconds. It was like you were waiting for something—waiting for him to say Don’t go, to give you a reason to stay. Everyone else had clapped and cheered for you, proud as hell, but Jimmy? He just sat there, quiet as ever, and smiled.

“You deserve it,” he said finally, his voice steady, almost too steady. “You’re gonna do great.”

That was it. No grand declarations, no last-ditch pleas. And when the time came two weeks later, at the bus station in Charlotte, Jimmy hugged you tight, kissed your forehead, and told you to take care of yourself. Then he let you go.

Clyde had never understood it. How could Jimmy, the guy who’d knock a wrench off a table for you, just stand there and let you walk away? Didn’t he realize what he was losing? Maybe he did. Maybe that was the worst part. Maybe Jimmy knew exactly what he was doing, standing back while the love of his life boarded a bus bound for somewhere he couldn’t follow.

For years, Clyde thought about that moment, turning it over in his mind like a stone in his pocket. He wondered if Jimmy regretted it, if he ever wished he’d run after you, told you that Boone County might’ve been small, but it was big enough for both your dreams if you stayed with him. But Jimmy never said a word about it. He just kept on living, working, showing up for Sadie, trying to make the best of a life that never quite fit him right.

Jimmy Logan had let the best part of himself walk away that day at the bus station, and Clyde wasn’t sure if it made his brother noble or just plain stubborn. Jimmy had convinced himself he was doing the right thing, but Clyde knew the truth: letting you go hadn’t freed Jimmy from anything. It had only hollowed him out, leaving a void that no amount of work, whiskey, or small-town chatter could ever truly fill.

Sadie helped, though. She was Jimmy’s anchor, his reason to get out of bed in the morning and face the world, even when it felt like the weight of it might crush him. She was his heart, the glue that held together the fractured pieces of a man who might have shattered completely if it weren’t for her. Sadie filled some of that void—not all of it, but enough to keep Jimmy going.

Clyde saw it firsthand, in the quiet, unspoken moments when he’d come by the house. He’d find Jimmy and Sadie in the driveway, Jimmy under the hood of his truck, his hands slick with grease, and Sadie perched on a stool nearby, watching her father with wide, curious eyes. Jimmy would hand her a small wrench or a rag, letting her feel like she was part of the process.

“You see this here, kiddo?” Jimmy would say, pointing to some obscure part of the engine. “This is what keeps the whole thing running. Just like you keep me running.”

Sadie would giggle, her voice bright and clear, and Clyde’s heart would twist a little. He couldn’t help but smile at the sight of them—Jimmy with his quiet devotion, Sadie with her fierce love for the man who was her whole world.

And sometimes, when the day stretched a little longer than expected, Clyde would hear Jimmy telling Sadie stories. Stories about you. He never said your name, but Clyde always knew who he was talking about.

“Back in high school,” Jimmy would start, his voice softer than usual, “there was this girl I used to know. Used to call her trouble. Smart as a whip, tough as nails. She could talk circles around anybody, even me.”

Sadie’s eyes would go wide. “Was she pretty?”

Jimmy would pause, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Prettiest thing I’d ever seen,” he’d say finally. “But it wasn’t just that. She made you feel like you could do anything, like the world wasn’t so big and scary after all.”

Clyde would watch from a distance, his chest tight. It wasn’t just the way Jimmy spoke about you—it was the way his whole demeanor shifted. For a few moments, it was like the years melted away, and he was that same young man again, sitting on the porch steps with you, dreaming of a future that never came to pass.

But Clyde knew better than to think Jimmy had found peace. He saw it in the cracks that Sadie couldn’t quite patch up. In the way Jimmy’s smile dimmed at the edges when he thought no one was looking. In the way he’d turn off the radio mid-song if a tune reminded him too much of you. In the way he worked himself to the bone, chasing a kind of purpose that seemed to slip further away with every passing year.

For over a decade, you were nothing more than a memory. No letters, no calls, no word at all. Every year that passed widened the gap between you and Boone County, between you and Jimmy. To everyone else, it was like you’d disappeared, moved on to a world far beyond their small-town lives. But to Jimmy, you were still there—alive in the spaces you used to occupy, in the phantom echoes of laughter on a quiet night, in the way he still glanced toward the road, hoping against hope to see your car pulling up.

Clyde hated it. He hated the way hope hung on Jimmy like a second skin, invisible but suffocating. It was in the smallest things, the quietest moments that no one else might notice. The way Jimmy would straighten up just a little whenever the door to the Duck Tape opened, his sharp blue eyes flicking up, scanning every new face with a hope so fleeting it was almost painful. And then, when it wasn’t you—and it was never you—his shoulders would slump, and he’d go back to whatever he was doing, quieter than before.

Clyde hated it because he could see how it ate at his brother, that endless waiting, that unbearable hope. Jimmy Logan never stopped loving you. The years might’ve softened the sharp edges of heartbreak, but the ache of losing you never faded. You were the one who got away. The one Jimmy couldn’t fix, couldn’t fight for, couldn’t outrun. And no matter how much life moved on around him, Jimmy stayed in place, tethered to a memory, still waiting. Always waiting.

But life, as it so often does, has a way of turning on a dime. And it did one night at the Duck Tape.

Jimmy was at the pool table, mid-swing between lining up a shot and throwing fists with a loudmouth who had too much beer and too few manners. Clyde stood to the side, arms crossed, trying to decide if it was worth stepping in or letting his brother blow off steam the old-fashioned way.

It was chaos. Pool cues clattered to the ground, curses flew, and the jukebox blared a muffled country song no one was paying attention to. Then, like a scene straight out of a movie, the bar’s door creaked open, letting in a gust of cool night air and the sound of boots on worn wooden floors.

Clyde turned first, just out of habit, his eyes flicking toward the doorway. And there you were, standing there like something out of a dream. The years had changed you, sure, but only in the way that added to the story of who you were. Your hair was different, your clothes were sharper, but the way you carried yourself—that quiet confidence, that unshakable grace—was the same. You stepped inside, scanning the room, and Clyde could tell the exact moment your eyes landed on Jimmy. Jimmy hadn’t seen you yet. He was too wrapped up in the chaos by the pool table, fists half-clenched and his temper simmering just below the surface. But Clyde had seen you the moment you stepped through the door. He hadn’t believed his eyes at first, like he’d conjured you out of thin air just by thinking about you too much.

You stood there, hesitating for just a breath, scanning the room with a calm, practiced ease. Then, like you hadn’t been gone for over a decade, you started moving. One step, then another, each one measured and deliberate, until you were there—sliding into the bar stool like this was just another night at the Duck Tape.

“Well, shit,” Clyde said, leaning against the bar as he crossed his arms. His voice carried a mix of surprise and something softer, almost protective. “Never thought I’d see the day you were back here.”

You pulled off your jacket and threw it onto the chair beside you, like it was nothing. Like you hadn’t just turned the world on its head. But Clyde knew better. He watched you carefully, his sharp eyes taking in every detail.

At first glance, you looked almost the same as you always had—calm, confident, with that spark of mischief in your eyes that had always made people lean in a little closer, hang on your words a little longer. But there was something else now, something heavier. Clyde couldn’t put his finger on it, but it was there, woven into the way you carried yourself. Like you’d been through a storm and come out the other side, but the wind hadn’t quite let go of you yet.

You shrugged, shifting in your seat as you caught the bartender’s attention. “Whiskey,” you said, your tone casual but firm. “Unless it’s that cheap shit, then I need something else to wash away the taste.”

Clyde nodded and went to pour your drink, but your attention had already drifted. You glanced over your shoulder at the commotion by the pool table, where Jimmy was still mid-brawl, oblivious to the fact that the person he’d been waiting for had just walked into the room. “Still throwing fists, I see,” you said dryly, your lips quirking into a faint, amused smile as you turned your attention back to Clyde.

He huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Some things don’t change,” he replied, sliding your drink across the bar toward you. His eyes lingered on you for a beat longer, curiosity etched in every line of his face. “You gonna tell me what you’re doing back in Boone County after a decade?”

You gave an easy shrug, taking a long sip of the whiskey. It burned just the way you remembered. “Just passing through,” you said, your tone light, almost dismissive. “You know how it is. Home sweet home and all that bullshit.”

Clyde didn’t buy it, not for a second, but he let it slide. Instead, he followed your gaze as you turned slightly, your attention caught by the sharp crack of a pool cue. Jimmy was still in the thick of it, but your eyes shifted past him, landing on the two men he was squaring off against. They didn’t look like the regulars—cleaner-cut, better dressed, their boots too polished for the Duck Tape.

“Sky blue GT in the parking lot, yeah?” you asked suddenly, your voice casual, almost too casual.

“What?” Clyde frowned, his confusion evident. He watched as you drained the rest of your drink in one swift motion, setting the empty glass down with a deliberate clink. That smile, the one he hadn’t seen in years but still recognized instantly, spread across your face. It was a dangerous smile, full of mischief and intent, and Clyde’s shoulders slumped as the realization hit him.

“Don’t you go causing any trouble,” he warned, his voice heavy with exasperation. He knew that look, and it never ended well—not for anyone involved.

You slid off the stool, pulling your jacket on as you moved. “Relax,” you said, your grin widening as you backed away toward the door. “I’m just getting some fresh air."

Clyde narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. “No, you’re about to go do something stupid,” he called after you, his tone a mix of frustration and reluctant amusement.

You reached the doorway, lazily picking up the brick that held the heavy door open as you turned back to glance at him. “Stop overthinking it,” you said, your voice teasing as you pushed the fly wire open with your shoulder. The night air rushed in, cool and sharp against your skin. “I’ll be back in a minute,” you added with a wink before stepping outside.

Clyde stood there for a moment, watching the door swing shut behind you, a mix of annoyance and fondness flickering across his face. He muttered under his breath, shaking his head. “You haven’t changed a damn bit.”

But deep down, he knew you had. There was something behind that smile, something that told him you weren’t just here for a joyride. Whatever you were about to do, Clyde had the sinking feeling it wasn’t as simple as ‘getting fresh air.’ And for reasons he couldn’t quite name, that worried him more than he cared to admit.

As the muffled sounds of Jimmy’s scuffle grew louder, Clyde sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. He’d been here before, too many times to count. Jimmy’s temper, your antics—it was like clockwork. But then came the unmistakable smash of glass, sharp and shattering, followed by the shrill wail of a car alarm echoing through the lot. Clyde straightened up, an almost resigned sense of inevitability washing over him.

He should’ve been annoyed. Hell, maybe he was. But he also knew better. With you, chaos and loyalty went hand in hand. If Jimmy was in trouble, it was almost guaranteed you weren’t far behind, stirring up your own brand of mischief. It had been that way since you were kids, and apparently, some things really didn’t change.

Clyde moved around the bar toward the pool table, where the fight had ground to an abrupt halt. The two well-dressed strangers who’d been squaring off with Jimmy exchanged a tense glance, their anger momentarily giving way to confusion as the alarm blared louder. Without a word, they turned and rushed for the door, shoving past patrons who were more than happy to let them go.

Jimmy stood there, his brow furrowed in that way that said he was more annoyed than hurt. Clyde didn’t bother addressing him; his focus was already on the door as he followed the commotion outside, curiosity pulling him forward despite himself.

The cool night air hit Clyde as he stepped onto the porch, and he leaned casually against the railing, taking in the scene below. There you were, leaning against the hood of the sky blue GT, as calm and unbothered as if you’d just been out for a stroll. The windshield was shattered, spiderweb cracks spreading from the point of impact, and you were just finishing up slamming the bonnet closed, your hand gripping something.

You were the picture of nonchalance, standing there like you had all the time in the world, arms crossed and your weight shifted casually onto one hip. Even as the two men stormed down the steps, shouting every insult and obscenity they could think of, your expression didn’t so much as twitch. It wasn’t defiance—it was something cooler, sharper. The kind of quiet confidence that made people second-guess themselves.

“You crazy bitch!” one of them hollered, his face turning a deep shade of red as he gestured wildly at the car. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Are you out of your goddamn mind?!” the other added, his voice cracking under the strain of his outrage, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing.

Clyde, still leaning on the railing, watched the whole scene unfold with a mix of exasperation and reluctant amusement. It wasn’t just what you were doing—it was how you did it. You were calm in a way that wasn’t natural, like you thrived on chaos and had long since learned to bend it to your will. That smirk on your face was the same one Clyde remembered from years ago, but now it carried an edge, a weight that hadn’t been there before. Whatever you’d been through, it hadn’t broken you—it had sharpened you.

You didn’t flinch as they yelled. Didn’t even move, really. Instead, you tilted your head slightly, your gaze steady and assessing, like you were sizing them up and finding them lacking. Clyde almost felt sorry for them. Almost.

“I know the name of a great tow company,” you said smoothly, your voice carrying just enough bite to make the insult land. Then, with a smirk, you held up a few frayed wires in your hand, letting them dangle like a trophy. “But I don’t think you’ll be able to drive this tonight.”

The first guy’s jaw dropped as he realized what you were holding, his face shifting from rage to disbelief in an instant. “What the hell—what did you do to my car?” he stammered, his voice rising.

You shrugged, completely unfazed. “Taught it a little humility,” you said, tossing the wires onto the hood with a casual flick of your wrist.

The second guy, still clutching his phone, pointed a shaking finger at you. “I’m calling the cops,” he said, his voice full of bluster, like it was a trump card he was sure would win the game.

You scoffed, the sound short and dismissive, as if he’d just told you something mildly annoying. “You do what you gotta do, princess,” you shot back, your smirk widening.

Clyde couldn’t hold back a snort of laughter, quickly covering it with a cough. He shook his head as he leaned further against the railing, watching you handle the situation with the kind of grace and nerve that could only come from someone who had absolutely nothing to lose. He’d always known you were tough—hell, tougher than most people in Boone County—but seeing you now, he realized you’d grown into something even more formidable.

The two men, however, weren’t laughing. They were seething, practically vibrating with frustration as they exchanged frantic whispers, clearly trying to figure out what to do next. Clyde noticed the subtle shift in their stance, the way their bravado faltered under the weight of your unwavering calm.

You didn’t just outmatch them—you outclassed them.

“You really shouldn’t leave your car unlocked,” you added, your tone light and almost conversational, as if you were offering them helpful advice. “Bad things happen to bad parking jobs.”

Clyde couldn’t help but chuckle at that, shaking his head again. “Always had a way of making friends,” he muttered under his breath.

The guy with the phone looked ready to combust, his hands shaking as he tapped at the screen. “You’re gonna regret this,” he hissed, his voice dripping with impotent rage.

But you? You didn’t even blink. “You think so?” you asked, arching an eyebrow. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re the one with the busted car.” Jimmy stepped outside, his boots scuffing against the worn wooden steps of the Duck Tape as the night air hit him. His expression was dark and unreadable, the kind of look that made most people think twice before crossing him. Clyde watched from his spot on the porch, arms crossed as he leaned against the railing. He could feel the tension rolling off his brother even before Jimmy’s eyes locked onto you.

“Here we go,” Clyde muttered to himself, settling back to watch. Whatever was about to happen, it was bound to be one hell of a show. He’d seen this kind of fire building in Jimmy before, but not like this—not with you at the center of it.

Clyde had always known that Jimmy wasn’t the kind of man to wear his heart on his sleeve. His brother had learned a long time ago how to keep his emotions locked up tight, showing the world only what he wanted them to see. But Clyde also knew Jimmy better than anyone else alive, and in that moment, as Jimmy’s eyes landed on you, Clyde saw something shift.

It wasn’t just recognition—it was like watching a storm roll in. Jimmy’s steps faltered ever so slightly, his jaw tightening as he took in the scene in front of him: you, calm and confident as ever, standing against the backdrop of the busted-up GT like you’d done nothing more than rearrange the furniture. The two men, still fuming, their words stumbling over each other in their anger. And then there was Clyde, leaning against the porch, waiting to see how it all would play out.

Jimmy’s expression flickered for just a moment, a crack in the mask he’d worn so carefully for years. Clyde caught it—the way his brother’s gaze softened for half a second when it landed on you, like he couldn’t quite believe you were real. But just as quickly, the wall went back up, and Jimmy’s face settled into that stoic, unreadable mask he wore so well.

Clyde could almost hear the gears turning in Jimmy’s head as he pieced it all together: you were here, after all this time, and you were knee-deep in trouble, just like old times. But there was more to it than that. Jimmy wasn’t just seeing you—he was feeling you, feeling everything he’d buried, everything he thought he’d moved past, bubbling right back to the surface.

And it unnerved him. Clyde could tell. Jimmy might’ve been good at keeping his cool, but he couldn’t hide the way his fists clenched at his sides or the way his shoulders stiffened as he stepped closer. Clyde had seen Jimmy in plenty of fights, plenty of tight spots, but this wasn’t just about the guys standing in front of him. This was about you, and that made all the difference.

“Something wrong here?” Jimmy asked, his voice low and steady as his gaze shifted from the two men to you and back again.

The first guy, emboldened by his anger, jabbed a finger in your direction. “This psycho smashed my car!” he spat, his voice shaking. “She’s out of her damn mind!”

Jimmy’s eyes flicked to you, and Clyde swore he saw the faintest twitch of amusement at the corner of his brother’s mouth before it disappeared. “Is that right?” Jimmy asked, his tone deceptively calm.

You shrugged, completely unfazed. “Their car had an attitude problem,” you said, your voice casual as if you were explaining a minor inconvenience. “I handled it.”

Clyde had to bite back a laugh, shaking his head. “God damn it trouble,” he muttered under his breath, though the fondness in his tone was unmistakable.

The second man stepped forward, his face red and his hands balled into fists. “You’re gonna pay for this,” he snarled. “Both of you—her for wrecking my car and you for being in my way earlier.”

Jimmy’s gaze snapped to the man, and Clyde saw it—the flash of something dangerous in his brother’s eyes. Jimmy didn’t flinch, didn’t move, but the air around him seemed to shift, like the calm before a storm.

“I don’t think you’re in a position to make threats,” Jimmy said quietly, his voice carrying more weight than the man probably expected.

And that’s when Clyde saw it—the subtle way you and Jimmy moved, like two parts of a whole that had been separated too long. The way you didn’t even glance at each other but somehow fell into an unspoken rhythm, like you knew exactly how to back each other up without a word exchanged. It was the same thing Clyde had seen when you were younger, but now, there was a rawness to it, a tension that hadn’t been there before.

Clyde sighed heavily, the sound lost in the tension-filled air as he watched Jimmy take another deliberate step closer. His brother’s body language was unmistakable: steady, solid, and daring the two men to do something stupid. Jimmy didn’t even have to raise his voice. His presence alone was enough to send a clear message: You don’t mess with what’s mine.

But Clyde knew this wasn’t just about the busted car or even the fight in the bar. This was about you, standing there with that same calm defiance you’d always carried, the one that used to drive Jimmy crazy in every way imaginable. Whatever had brought you back tonight wasn’t some passing whim—it was history, tangled and complicated, crashing headlong into the present. And for the first time in years, Clyde saw a flicker of the Jimmy he used to know. The Jimmy who would’ve moved heaven and earth to protect you, to be near you, to keep you safe, even if it meant sacrificing pieces of himself along the way.

The Jimmy who had never really let you go, no matter how much time had passed or how much he told himself he had to.

Clyde exhaled slowly, his shoulders slumping slightly as he resigned himself to what was coming. The men were still shouting, their anger bubbling over in loud threats and empty bluster, but Clyde barely heard them. His attention was split between his brother, whose focus had narrowed entirely on you, and you, standing there like you hadn’t just thrown a brick into the middle of their world.

“Let’s get this over with,” Clyde muttered to himself, finally stepping off the porch. He knew better than to let Jimmy handle this alone—not because his brother couldn’t, but because some things were bigger than fists and broken windshields. And if tonight was about to blow up, Clyde wasn’t about to let either of you face it without him.

As he made his way down the steps, he watched the scene unfold with the sharp, knowing eyes of someone who had seen this dynamic before. Jimmy’s protective instincts were on full display, his frame tense but controlled, like a spring ready to snap. And you? You were as maddeningly composed as ever, your calm only fueling the fire of the two men who clearly didn’t realize they were already outmatched.

“Gentlemen,” Clyde said, his voice cutting through the noise as he stepped between Jimmy and the men, his tone laced with dry humor. “I hate to interrupt, but maybe we call it a night before this turns into something nobody walks away from happy.”

The first man turned on Clyde, his face still red with fury. “She destroyed my car!” he spat, jabbing a finger in your direction. “She’s gotta pay for that!” Clyde raised an eyebrow, glancing over at you. “You wanna explain yourself, or should I keep pretending to mediate here?” he asked, his voice carrying that slow, steady drawl that somehow managed to sound both disarming and exasperated. You smirked, completely unbothered by the man’s outburst. “Already explained it,” you said, folding your arms and cocking your head slightly. “Bad parking. Bad attitude. I handled it.”

Clyde couldn’t help the twitch of a grin that tugged at the corner of his mouth, even as he tried to suppress it. You hadn’t changed nearly as much as you probably thought you had. You still had that unshakable calm, the sharp wit that cut deeper than most people realized, and the nerve to match. “Right,” he said dryly, glancing back at the men who were now glaring at him like he was supposed to fix this mess. “There you have it. Justice served.”

You reached over to the hood of the car, plucking the frayed wires you’d yanked out of the engine. “Good luck,” you said as you tossed them toward the men, the wires landing at their feet. The smirk on your face widened just a touch as you added, “Tell the sheriff I said hi when you call him.”

The men’s faces darkened, but they didn’t move. They seemed torn between escalating the situation and cutting their losses, and Clyde could see the shift in their posture—the slow realization that they’d already lost.

But Jimmy… Jimmy was another story. Clyde’s gaze flickered to his brother, who hadn’t moved an inch since stepping outside. Jimmy’s jaw was set tight, his fists still clenched at his sides, and there was a storm brewing in his eyes that Clyde knew all too well.

Jimmy wasn’t just pissed off—he was hurt. And Clyde could see exactly why. You hadn’t so much as looked at him when you walked past, your focus entirely on dismantling the situation with your usual sharp-edged humor. To anyone else, it might’ve seemed like you were simply handling the moment, but Clyde knew better. He saw the way Jimmy’s eyes followed you, the way his shoulders stiffened when you didn’t stop, didn’t acknowledge him beyond the bare minimum. It was like you’d carved right past him without even realizing—or worse, like you’d done it on purpose.

Jimmy’s emotions were a mess, a tangled knot of anger, confusion, and something deeper, something raw and painful that Clyde recognized from the countless times he’d seen his brother staring out at the horizon, waiting for someone who never came. And now here you were, walking back into his life like you hadn’t been gone for over a decade, like the years hadn’t weighed down on both of you in ways neither could ignore.

You breezed past Jimmy without hesitation, your words flippant and offhand. “I just drove nineteen damn hours,” you said, your tone casual as you climbed the steps. “I need a drink and then a bed.”

Clyde’s eyes flicked back to Jimmy as you disappeared into the bar. His brother’s expression didn’t change much on the surface, but Clyde could see the subtle tells—the slight twitch in Jimmy’s jaw, the way his fists unclenched just enough for his fingers to curl inward. He looked like he wanted to say something, to call after you, but the words stayed stuck in his throat.

“She’s back,” Clyde said softly, stepping closer to Jimmy and breaking the silence that had settled between them. Jimmy didn’t look at him, his eyes fixed on the door you’d just walked through. “Yeah,” he said, his voice rough and low, like it cost him something just to say it.

Clyde crossed his arms, leaning slightly to get a better look at his brother’s face. “You gonna talk to her, or just stand there and let her walk all over you?”

Jimmy finally turned his head, his glare sharp enough to cut. “Not now, Clyde,” he snapped, his tone sharper than it needed to be.

Clyde held up his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. Just sayin’. She’s here now. Doesn’t look like she’s planning on runnin’ tonight.”

Jimmy didn’t respond right away. He let out a slow breath, the tension in his shoulders easing just a fraction, but his expression remained guarded. “She’s got her reasons,” he muttered finally, more to himself than to Clyde.

Clyde watched him for a moment longer before stepping back toward the porch. “Well,” he said, his tone lighter, “if her reasons involve more busted cars and bar fights, might wanna pace yourself. Looks like it’s gonna be a long night.”

Jimmy didn’t answer. He just turned toward the steps, his jaw still tight as he followed the path you’d taken into the bar. Clyde shook his head, a mix of sympathy and exasperation settling over him. Whatever had brought you back, it wasn’t going to be simple. And knowing his brother, it was about to get a whole lot more complicated.