#and the way four can't look him in the eye...

[witherby]

hello! great work so far :-) im getting into batfam myself and been loving the platonic/familial works you do w littlest wayne! was wondering if you'd ever do an teen y/n or just an older one? I'd love to see you tackle the idea of a robin y/n or jaybe just some angsty kid stuff,,,,,, hope you had a good new years!

-- :33Anon

I love angst with my whole heart and soul, and I'm happy to write it with a slightly older Reader. Hope you don't mind I've commandeered your prompt to showcase the ability you guys voted on.

This one's a long read so I'm splitting it up. This part is roughly 2400+ words.

The Littlest Wayne: Uncertain Home

(Part 1/2)

Masterlist is Here!

Uncle J'onn is looking at you curiously.

He's been doing that a lot, lately. When Daddy brings you to the Watchtower to be babysat so he can go save the world, one of his co-workers that they can afford to spare gets put in charge of keeping an eye on you. Usually it's Uncle Hal, but this time it's J'onn and he's in his natural form, which you don't mind. Green is your favorite color, and his whole body is green! He's nice and calm, and tells you lots of stories and plays any game you want, even if it's hard for him not to cheat and read your mind. He says it's instinct. You don't hold it against him because you still have fun.

Lately, though, when he talks to you, he tilts his head a bit. He usually does that when he can't understand something.

You wipe your face, checking for cookie crumbs. All clean. You search your shirt for any weird marks or stains. All clean. You scrunch your nose and puff out your cheeks, pouting.

"What's wrong, uncle J'onny?" You ask him. Daddy says the way to get honest answers from someone is just to be forthcoming (Dicky told you what forthcoming meant when you asked him later), so you are. "Did I do something wrong?"

That seems to snap his train of thought. J'onn shakes his head and goes back to sorting out the jigsaw puzzle pieces for you. You're good enough at this to do 100-piece puzzles, now, and when you get really stuck you don't even cry anymore!

"Nothing is wrong, Flittermouse," he says, watching you start putting the edges together first like Dami taught you. "You are simply...changing. Differences are not inherently wrong."

"What's inherably mean?"

"Inherently. It means instinctively, or something that is "set in stone." A rule that does not change. I am stating that change is not something that is always wrong. It's not a firm rule."

You pout and try to process all of that in your brain. It was a partial answer. Daddy says that means people might want to hide something from you.

"What's changing?" You ask him. "I got older a week ago. Is that what you mean? I'm four, now. Grandpappy says I'm getting so big and growed up. He says to not do that so fast. I dunno how, though. He's silly."

J'onn hums. His eyes look away from you as he considers what to say. You put one whole edge together before he speaks again.

"You know that I am not a human, correct?"

"Yeah, I know," you say. "I don't care. I love you. And auntie Diana. And uncle Clark. And uncle Barry. And —"

"Thank you," J'onn gently interrupts. "Do you also know that, sometimes, humans are born not entirely human? That sometimes they get special abilities?"

"Yeah, I know that," you repeat.

"I suspect that —" he cuts himself off, hesitates, then starts again. "Little one. You are showing signs of being one of those humans with special abilities."

"I am?" You ask. You perk up. "Can I fly?!"

You immediately abandon the puzzle and climb onto your chair, about to jump off of it to try and fly around, but J'onn catches you by the back of your shirt before you can hit the ground.

"You cannot."

"Aww...then I don't wanna be a megahuman," you complain, stomping your foot.

"Metahuman."

"Whatever."

"I am sorry," J'onn says, "I did not mean to upset you. I do think you are developing powers, however."

"Not fly powers?" You frown.

"No, not flight powers."

"Boring," you say, blowing raspberries. J'onn cracks a smile at your antics and you giggle. "Help me do the puzzle, please!"

"Alright," he relents, sorting more pieces for you. You're both quiet for a while, and you get the whole frame done before he speaks again.

"Little one. Do you know your father's rule about metahumans?"

"Yeah," you say, grinning, because you're a great listener. You pitch your voice down and make it scratchy. It's adorable in your four-year-old tone. "No metas in Gotham. I am Nighttime. Raaahhh."

J'onn huffs in amusement. "Right. He usually means what he says, does he not?"

"Yeah," you agree, "daddy is a bad liar. He lied and said he didn't eated the last cookie once, but he did eated it. Alfie was mad, 'cause it was for Dami, but Dami didn't care. He likes brownies more than cookies. I like brownies, too."

"I figured," J'onn says. He's not looking at you again. This time he's frowning.

"Do you want brownies?" You ask, figuring that was the issue. "I don't have any. I can ask for some when Daddy comes back. I'm good at sharing, 'cause I'm a good noodle, like Jay says."

"No, but thank you for offering to share. Jason is right, you are a good noodle."

You preen. "I know!"

J'onn drops the subject again and helps you complete the puzzle. You squint at every piece in concentration and politely ask him if he can dim the lights so you can work better. He complies, and after another hour and a half, you have a completed image on the table.

"Yay! We did it!"

The sounds of chatter and footsteps appear down the hall moments later, and you spring to your feet in delight.

"Hello!!!" You shout.

A chorus of "hello!" greets you in return from multiple heroes, and the rest of the Justice League files into the room one by one. They don't look too roughed up, so the mission wasn't very dangerous. That's good. You stand by the door and offer them hugs. Everyone complies, to your endless delight.

"Daddy!" You cheer when you see him, running and hugging Batman's legs. He scoops you into his arms and you grin and point at the table. "Uncle J'onny and I dided a whole puzzle! I didn't give up!"

"Good job, Mouse," Bruce says, reaching out to adjust the light. "You did it in the dark?"

"Yeah," you grin, kicking your feet. "Did you punch bad guys?"

"I did."

"Did you win?"

"Yes."

"Can we have ice cream?"

"Maybe after dinner." He carries you down the hall and towards his temporary quarters, the place he'll stay after a particularly tough mission when he can't make it home right away, and deposits you gently on the bed. "I have to debrief with everyone, and then we can pack up and go home."

"Okay, daddy," you say, already digging through the nightstand for a toy to play with. "I stay right here!"

"Good job," he says again, kissing the top of your head, and leaves you alone with a small wave.

--

The next time you need to be at the Watchtower, it's with Uncle Clark and Auntie Diana. The mission wasn't a super dangerous one, so they both got to stay behind and entertain you.

Today, you're a cashier at your world-famous grocery store. You have the best ingredients all over the world.

"Welcome to the groshy store, what do you want stranger?" You demand, getting into character. Clark looks mildly offended.

"Whoa, hello. That's a lot of 'tude for a paying customer," he says.

"You didn't buy nothing yet! Whataya want!"

"Uh. Some carrots please."

"All out."

Clark narrows his eyes at you. "Can you check in the back?"

You turn around. You turn back.

"All out. Whataya want!"

"You barely looked!" He insists.

"FRESH OUTTA CARROTS, BUB. WHATAYA WANT."

"Oh my goodness, now there's yelling. I think I need to speak to a manager."

"Okay!" You shuffle across the room and grab Diana's hand, leading her back to Clark. "This is the manager. Auntie, tell him all the carrots are gone. He can't have any."

Diana covers her mouth to stifle her laughter. "You heard them, stranger. There are no carrots here."

"Well, aside from the blatant nepotism, auntie, I think you're hiding the carrots from me," Clark huffs, crossing his arms. "I need them for my soup. Guess I'll go to the grocery store across town. I hear they're nicer."

"No," you gasp, "wait. Okay maybe I have one secret carrot. I go get it."

You leave their giggling forms and run over to the toy box that was set up for you on the watch tower, thrusting your hands inside to dig around. You squint your eyes, but all the bright colors are hard to distinguish properly. In the dark spaces, deeper into the box, is where you cast your focus. Instinctively, you follow the trail and close your hand around a plastic carrot. You lift your hand triumphantly.

"Okay, got it!" You cry, only to startle when you find both Clark and Diana kneeling beside your toy chest. Diana picks you up around the waist and takes several steps back, and Clark's eyes turn that funny shade of blue they do when he's using x-ray vision. "Umm, I gotted the carrot already. It's in my hand."

"Are you injured?" Diana asks you, expression deadly serious. You frown and shake your head. "You're certain? I could sense something in that box with you."

"No, I'm fine," you promise. Clark stands up and his eyes go back to normal. He shrugs, brows furrowed.

"There's nothing in there but toys."

"Yeah," you nod, "toys and dark spots."

Both heroes look at you. You squirm in Diana's hold shyly.

"Um, want to pay for the carrot?" You ask, holding it up. "It's only ten dollars. Orrr one lollipop." You whisper conspiratorially. "I can be bribed."

Diana and Clark exchange glances. Clark gingerly takes the carrot from you and puts it back in the toy box.

"Sold. Let's go to the kitchen and pick out which flavor you want."

You grin, forgetting about the game, and Diana puts you on the ground so you can follow excitedly after them. With a couple "pretty please's" and your lethal puppy dog eyes, you even manage to get two lollipops. You ask to be hoisted onto the counter so you can swing your feet as you enjoy the candy, and both heroes perch on either side of you.

It's quiet for a while. It feels like that weird, anticipatory quiet you felt with Uncle J'onny, but you don't know what for, so you wait for one of them to speak. You finish off one whole sucker and open the second one when it happens.

"Mouse?" Clark eventually asks, "can you explain what you meant about your toys? That there are dark spots in there?"

"Yeah," you say, "shadows. Dark spots. Light not touching."

"And you can...feel shadows?"

You hum, thinking it over. "Um...yes. Kind of."

Clark and Diana look at each other again. They're frowning. You frown.

"Can you tell us what you mean by that?" She asks.

"Um. I wanted the carrot, for uncle Clark," you say, "so he can buy it at my groshy store. And the dark spots showed me where it was, and I grabbed it."

"Did they also help you complete the jigsaw puzzle, when you were with J'onn?" Diana asks. "It was quite dark when we got back." You nod.

"Yeah. Easier to do in the dark. It's not cheating!" You blurt. "I didn't cheated!"

"Okay, ya' didn't cheat," Clark agrees, gently patting your back. There's a slight drawl in his words which usually shows up when he's stressed out. "We're just curious, is all, darlin'. Seems you've got a... A special talent, we can call it."

"It's a power. They're a metahuman, Kal," Diana says simply, "and you know Bruce's rule."

The rule? Which one? Always brushing your teeth before bedtime? Or maybe no sweets until you finish your dinner? Hmm, but you haven't had dinner yet. That doesn't make sense.

"No metas in Gotham. I'm very aware, Diana."

"Then you see the problem."

Oh. Now you think you know why uncle J'onny was upset that day.

"Now wait a minute," Clark says. He looks genuinely angry, which confuses you. Did they not like that you could ask the dark for help? They had superpowers, too. You figured they would be happy. "They're his kid."

You are. You're Daddy's little Flittermouse, scampering around and bringing joy. That's what everyone tells you. They love you.

"You've seen how hard he works to keep us out of Gotham," Diana says. "We can be trusted to babysit, but we can't enter the city? What does that tell you?"

"That's different. He's territorial, we all know that. He's not a monster, Diana. He would never hurt them —"

"I'm not saying he is. I'm not saying he would. But I am saying that he doesn't bend his own rules. He does not make exceptions."

Oh.

You sit almost numbly on the counter and watch Clark and Diana start to argue over your place in Gotham. Over your place at home.

You think about Daddy's rule about no metas in Gotham. You think about your new ability to interact with shadows.

Oh.

The lollipop tastes like ash on your tongue and the tips of your fingers feel like tv static. When you blink, your eyes sting as they well up with tears. You've been so good about not throwing fits, about not being a crybaby, about being as strong as your super cool daddy and brothers and grandpa.

But you can't call them that anymore, can you? They don't want metas in Gotham, and that's what you are, now. You can't live with your family anymore.

Large, fat tears roll down your cheeks and your bottom lip wobbles. You whimper and both Diana and Clark whip their heads around to look at you in shock.

"No, oh no, don't cry," Diana coos, "you don't need to worry. Your father isn't —"

You bat her hands away when she reaches for you and jump off the counter, running underneath Clark's cape. They don't catch on to what you're doing in time.

Clark practically rips it off and fans it on the floor, floating above it with wide eyes. Diana kneels next to the fabric and frantically pats it, searching for you.

But there's nothing. You've fled into the shadow Clark's body cast and allowed the darkness to swallow you.

[reginamillls]

"hate me" + bucktommy pls mwah 😌💖

Buck thought he could do this, see Tommy again and not be angry. But his ex is sitting at the back of the 118 ambulance, getting stitches from Chimney and Buck feels like his blood is boiling.

He should walk away.

Buck should just let it go, let Tommy go away and continue on with his life, just as Tommy wanted.

"Tommy-" Buck growls out, stalking forward. He hears Chimney mumble something to Tommy who is looking at him warily, before he squeezes Tommy's shoulder and leaves them be.

"Buck-" "What was that?" Buck hisses out and Tommy winces, looking away from him and back at what's left of the fire that their stations had both been called to. Buck crosses the arms over his chest and stares Tommy down. Tommy could be stubborn, that wouldn't have changed in the four months that they've been broken up, but Buck was positive he could out stubborn his ex.

"I did what I had to do-" Tommy tries, but Buck isn't having it.

"You got hurt!" Buck exclaims, gesturing to the fresh bandage on Tommy's arm where a piece of beam had fallen on him, going through his turn outs and giving Tommy a nasty gash that needed stitches.

The beam that would have hit Buck if Tommy hadn't pushed him out of the way.

"It happens," Tommy defends himself, but his voice is subdued. Buck huffs, but unlike Tommy who is looking away from him again, Buck takes his fill of the other man. The first thing he notices beyond the obvious injuries and the soot from their fire is that Tommy looks tired. Exhausted actually. The furrow from between his brows looks pained, and the bags under his eyes are dark against his pale skin. He's sharper too, like he's lost some weight.

Buck deflates a little, his righteous anger from earlier dwindling down to the fear he felt when he saw Tommy get downed by the beam.

The man did save his life.

"I'll get checked out at the hospital and go home, sleep it off." Tommy says and he starts to get up and what little color on his face goes away as he wraps his arm around his ribs.

"Sit down," Buck says and Tommy doesn't even fight him.

Sighing, Buck steps forward and gingerly lifts Tommy's arm to inspect what he believes now to be some bruised ribs at the very least.

"You don't have to stay," Tommy says. "No one would blame you. I can go back with my station."

"If you wanted that you shouldn't have risked your life for mine," Buck says, voice snipping. Tommy looks away again and Buck sighs. "I'm sorry-" "Don't." Tommy says, voice steely. "Don't apologize Evan,"

"So it's Evan again?" Buck says and Tommy huffs.

They're at an impasse.

"Look just-" Buck starts at the same time that Tommy says,

"You don't have to care."

Buck blinks, stepping back, and looks at Tommy with wide eyes, hurt by what he just said.

"Of couse I care," Buck says. "You got hurt Tommy, even if it wasn't for me I would still care."

"I'm the one who walked away- you, you shouldn't care about me anymore." Tommy says and his tone is carefully controlled, sounding like it did the last time they talked four months ago.

Buck knows this is how Tommy sounds before he runs away.

"Well if I can't care for you, what should I do?" Buck asks, ducking his head to get a better look at Tommy's expression. Tommy catches it and looks up, and Buck sees the cracks in Tommy's mask.

"Hate me," Tommy says, his eyes shinning. "You should hate me."

"I'm not very good at doing things I'm should," Buck says and he steps into Tommy's space. And in an echo of almost a year ago, Buck gently places his thumb on Tommy's chin and tilts it up.

"I could never hate you Tommy," Buck says gently and when a tear falls he wipes it away.

"Not when I feel the opposite."

[hotvintagepoll]

Peter Falk (The Great Race, It's a Mad Mad Mad Mad World)—JUST A SILLY MAN!! Sabotages four different cars (including his own, oopsie daisy) in the film The Great Race. Not film but TV, however, he is also known as the lovably silly little man Detective Columbo. Nobody knows what he's doing or where he's going at any time (even him).

Jack Lemmon (The Great Race, The Apartment, Some Like It Hot)—He's the everyman, he's clumsy, he's strange, in nearly every movie he finds himself in the oddest of circumstances because he's taken advantage of or because of... bad luck? You empathize with him, he's really a little guy. And yet... Why is he so hot? Why does he have this charm, this hidden fire, this weird kind of... elegance? You can't help but sense this magnetism he radiates. There is power in his charming eccentricity and clumsiness. He just really draws you in and you want to explore what it is that makes him so scrungly and so attractive at once.

This is round 3 of the contest. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. If you’re confused on what a scrungle is, or any of the rules of the contest, click here.

[additional submitted propaganda + scrungly videos under the cut]

Peter Falk:

He's a man who looks unshaven even when he's shaven. His soul is unshaven. The perpetual squint, the way his eyes don't always go in the same direction due to one being glass, the disheveled hair... I can only hope to look as scrungly as him someday.

Just look at him. Seriously. Just look at him. He's the scrungliest little guy. He out-scrungles them all.

Jack Lemmon:

his chemistry with judy holliday in their two movies together is ZOINKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! but i couldn't find any clips of that so watch him have mad chemistry with peter falk instead in my favorite campiest film of all time instead

His character in Glengary Glen Ross is literally the archetype Pathetic Guy. Even if you haven't seen this film I PROMISE you have seen iterations of Jack Lemmon's character from it. His character in Days of Wine and Roses will break your heart and show what an amazing range he has. [editor's note: I haven't seen either of these films so don't consider them recs from me. Also please keep your propaganda within the 1910-1970 range. tw for alcoholism in the clip below.]

[lamb-teaa]

` Transactional Tantrum

` pairing: Sylus x fem!reader

` tags: fluff. romcom. silly shenanigans. filthy rich Sylus. chaotic!reader cuz we all want to be spoiled and provided by him don't lie 🫵🏻

` teaa's note: where can i get a husband like Sylus (⁠ ⁠⚈̥̥̥̥̥́⁠⌢⁠⚈̥̥̥̥̥̀⁠)

People hail him as a powerful man amongst all existing factions in the N109 Zone, yet even someone like Sylus isn't immune to the dread of a tedious business dealings.

Don't get him wrong, it is practically his job for a lack of better words but you can't blame the man for nearly dying out of boredom at the moment.

Ping!

A sudden notification from his phone tore his attention away from his yammering business partners. Sylus briefly glanced down at his phone, brows furrowed in confusion when he read the transaction alert message on his screen.

'Ten million was charged to your Credit Card at Summers Jewelry'

Sylus didn't even have the chance to ponder over the sudden message further when he was suddenly startled by another barrage of notifications - yes, plural notifications.

'Four million was charged to your Credit Card at M&Hs'

'Six million was charged to your Credit Card at Nebulas'

'Eight million was charged to your Credit Card at Zapple'

Despite the deadpan expression on his face and his usual nonchalance silence, the slightest quirk of his brows were enough to give away his bewildered reaction to seeing such random transaction alerts on his card.

He doesn't recall making any on-hold purchases and certainly didn't give the twins any permission to spend any after the last time they went all out using his card in the past.

Which means only one person would be bold enough to overspend his money on a whim like this and his eyes instantly flickered in amusement when another transaction message came through his phone.

'Thirteen million was charged to your Credit Card at Abyssal Attire'

Seems like a certain kitten is on a wild spending spree.

Observing the transaction alerts, Sylus let out a low chuckle, ignoring the strange looks from his business partners who continued on with their discussion.

His sole attention now was you - his lovely kitten spending all his money with reckless abandon.

As his thumb hovered over the icon of your picture on his phone, he couldn't help but grin at the large purchases you made - given the fact you had always been reluctant to spend on his card before despite the countless times he had reassured you that he wants you to use his money to your heart's content.

Sylus, without a doubt, always wants the best for you. Even when you nagged him on buying such expensive gifts before, yet that will never stop him from spoiling you rotten.

Though.. he wondered what sparked this sudden influx of random purchases this first time around?

With his interest now piqued towards you, Sylus strode out of the conference room without a care in the world, especially when said discussion had led to no satisfying result on his end, thus he neither bothered about the frustrated and flabbergasted looks of the businessmen as he made his way along the hallways of the building.

Luke and Kieran, who's been by his side the entire meeting, automatically followed their boss out. Both brothers exchange curious looks from behind their masks with a shrug. Though they had great knowledge that only two things could spring their boss out of his usual routine - an unexpected ambush or well, you.

And it seemed like they were right on the nose as they watched Sylus’s thumb pressed onto the screen of his phone before bringing the device close to his ear, an amused yet genuine smile curled on their fierce leader's lips as he called out your name.

"Is it just me or a certain kitten is behaving quite impulsively with her spending today?” His voice held a steady yet teasing affection tone, his mind already picturing your smug expression at overspending his money. “This is a first, sweetie.”

"Oh look who finally remembered me!" Your voice snapped, the snarky and sarcastic response made Sylus pause in his track in surprise.

Before he could say anything, you cut him off, your voice faux innocent under a thinly veiled anger from the other line. "To think it took blowing your credit card to call me after making me wait for you the past THREE hours, you better have some explaining to do mister!”

To say you had left Sylus utterly speechless would be an understatement of the century, but it quite frankly did as your unexpected anger left his mind reeling in both confusion and worry.

Even his brief frozen state wasn't left unnoticed by Luke and Kieran, both could heard your snappy voice from the other line and they know an unhappy Miss Hunter equals to a agitated Onychinus leader, so they quietly watched in as Sylus slowly recover from his initial surprise before turning his attention back to the phone call.

“Kitten.” Sylus blinked, a frown forming on his lips, "I don't recall us having plans today? And I'm out of town for the time being as well.”

There was a sudden silence from your side, and for a second there Sylus thought you had hung up on him but your next words made him even more confused.

"Wait, what, I thought Luke and Kieran said you'd be free for the weekend and they'd told you about our date for today?"

At the mention of the twins, Sylus's head immediately snapped towards his henchmen who visibly tensed up. It didn't take long for Sylus to put two and two together that Luke and Kieran had pulled another of their mischievous pranks on you.

Oh but this one is definitely going to cost them their four months worth of paycheck for making his kitten angry at him.

"It seems like the twins have made a mistake. I wasn't aware of such plans today." Sylus's voice dropped low and dangerous, a flicker of annoyance as he shot the tensed twins a hard glare.

Though, knowing it would be no use to him to be mad at them at that moment, Sylus paused briefly once more before taking a deep breath, calming himself down. "I assure you, sweetie, I would never intentionally forget anything, especially when it's about you.”

There was another stretch of silence before you spoke up again, your voice softer and apologetic, wincing in guilt for assuming he'd purposely ditched you when that wasn't the case. "I'm sorry.." You sighed quietly. "I just.. I was looking forward to seeing you today and I.. I missed you, Sy.."

His annoyance instantly melted away at your confession. He understood that his work often kept him away, leaving you feeling neglected at times and he wanted nothing more than to rush to your side and hold you dearly in his arms. You always had a way to tug at his heartstrings and even then he relishes at the admission of you needing him as much as he needed you.

"I'll make it up to you, right now. Anything you want, name it." Sylus emphasized seriously, already giving Luke and Kieran a look of command. Not needing any further words as the twins bolted off to prepare his private jet to head back to Linkon.

"Well, you could start by allowing me to strangle those twins." You chirped, your voice brighter now yet held intentional malice mostly directed towards his loyal henchmen for tricking you with false information regarding Sylus's work schedule.

"And cuddles. I expect to see you at my place later tonight for cuddles or else I'll empty your entire bank account." You demanded sweetly, with a clearly joking threat but given you had waited three whole hours like a fool in public, you were tempted to do it again if Sylus bails on you twice in a day.

Your laughter tinkled over the phone, a lovely sound that never ceases to make Sylus's heart swell with blissful affection. The business deal be damned and he'll handle the twins' antics another time, for now, all he wanted was to go back to you.

Sylus chuckled, a warm smile tugging at his lips despite himself as he made his way up the building's rooftop. He knew his kitten was quite a force to be reckoned with, and yet such side of you made him drawn to you even more than ever - oh, he couldn't wait to see you again soon. "Deal. Cuddles it is, and you have my word, sweetie, I'll be at your doorstep by tonight. As for the twins, well, I'm sure they'll be begging for mercy by the time you're done with them.”

Back to your awaiting loving embrace.

[ohithankyou]

after buck and tommy get back together, buck wants tommy all the time. unfortunately he can't spend every waking second with his boyfriend's dick in his various orifices, so he settles for the warmth of tommy's hand on his hip, occasionally slipping into his back pocket to cup his ass. he shoves his toes into tommy's thigh when they're on the couch together, luxuriating tommy's complaints about how cold his feet are. (if he's feeling bratty, he'll make a comment about how tommy was the one with cold feet - and he loves even more than he knows he can get away with that, that it won't scare tommy away.) he's spending nearly every waking moment he can with tommy, and when he's on shift and has downtime, he finds himself missing tommy. he texts him, but that's not enough; he wants to feel tommy's warmth by his side. something to remind him of tommy. he brings it up to tommy, confident enough now that he can tell tommy what he needs. tommy brings his hand up from where it's resting on buck's thigh to encircle his neck. he looks buck right in the eye when he tells him his idea. a week later, a package arrives in the mail. they open it together. there's one thick leather collar. black, because it's classic and it matches the bands around buck's arm, tommy tells him conversationally as he fixes it around buck's neck. buck feels his adam's apple scrape against it as he breathes and feels settled in his body. the second collar is chainlink, silver, with a single small o ring. buck wears his leather collar until it's time to go to on shift, when tommy unbuckles it for him and places the chainlink necklace on him instead. buck's chubbed up, knows he probably will be all twenty-four hours. he's got tommy on his mind and on his neck. he can wear him all the time.

OH my gosh. “he’s got tommy on his mind and on his neck. he can wear him all the time,” — is simultaneously incredibly hot and so romantic. and of course for buck, the collar is about being as close to as possible to tommy at all times — and that’s why tommy thought of the idea — but tommy also can’t lie and say that he doesn’t get turned on by the fact that his boyfriend has him around his neck in a way that could be noticed by someone else and potentially welcome questions. that people could know buck is his and only his even when they’re not together. i think this would really bring his possessive side out and buck would love every second of it.

[my-stories-vault]

Whoa, we dived deep! Finally, hehe!

He deadpanned as he repeated your name once more. It sounded almost… pleading. You didnt miss that, and though you still thought he was being over-the-top, you decided to give in.

This was so beautiful ❤️. I mean, I love a man who wants to protect you even if you don't know what you're being protected from 💘😭. These men are rare 🤌🏻.

His face shifted from pure shock to something that looked like it hurt, like a dam just burst inside him. For a second, all the chaos, the danger, everything melted away, leaving just the connection he felt for her.

Ahhhhh, that hurt! And it hurt so good.

Can't even imagine how painful it must have been to lose four years of your past that you could've had but didn't because of your actual "past".

I love how your story explores a lot of angsty sweet-spots.

Russell debated to reach out, but decided now was not the time for a great family reunion. His eyes darted down the hall. “Alright, let’s get out of here before Rourke’s even had his morning coffee.”

You broke me 🙂.

Unable to comfort someone you love is one of the greatest losses.

You and Russell exchanged a look. Words weren’t necessary; you both knew exactly what was on the line here. Funny, you thought, how his combat skills now felt like a strange kind of comfort.

I love how you've given reader the time, situations, and perspectives to accept Russell. This form of understanding is truest and much needed ❤️

The other chuckled. “No way. Shaw’s decent, but those two he’s with? Dead weight.”

Maybe I'm reading too much into this but I feel like when Russell beat these two gaurds up, it was because they made it personal 🤣. I mean, 'both out cold and wondering what just hit them.' - c'mon!

“Was?”

This was so cute and anticipatory 🥹🥰.

Loved. It.

Tuesday’s Gone — Chapter 4

Russell Shaw x reader

Summary: When the police does little to no help to find your missing daughter, you are forced to contact Colter Shaw. What you don’t expect is how his investigation will reveal secrets about both your past and your daughter’s, in ways you never imagined.

Warnings: missing child trope, description and mention of murder, language, crawling in a narrow vent (I’m sorry my fellow claustrophobic loves), being held captive, being kidnapped

A/N: While proofreading, I realized my subconscious was probably influenced by @zepskies ’ S.I.N.G. (Beau Arlen x reader) fic — even with the different Jackles character. So, I want to give her credit for the first part of this chapter. 🤍

Title’s based on Tuesday’s Gone by Lynyrd Skynyrd.

Catch up on Chapter 3 here

Tuesday’s Gone masterlist

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You couldn’t stop the giggles, even as Russell held you firm, your back flush against his chest, his hands pinning yours effortlessly. The whole thing was just… well, kind of hot, really.

“Y/N” he sighed for the hundredth time, clearly on the edge of his patience. “You can’t giggle your way out of an actual assault. Try to focus, will you? What would you do if I were someone else?”

“But you’re you” you teased, half-joking, half-distracted. “And anyway, self-defense is kind of pointless. We live in a safe neighborhood. Nobody’s going to lay a hand on me.”

He let out a frustrated sigh, his grip tightening slightly as he paused, clearly choosing his words carefully. “Look, sweetheart… you’re a young, attractive woman” he said finally. “It’d just make me feel better if I knew you could handle yourself if… anything happened when I’m not around.”

At the time, you had no idea what he meant by that.

“Can you hear that?” you whispered, your ears straining in mock suspense. Russell’s brows knit together as he shot you a confused look.

“Hear what?”

“Paranoid by Black Sabbath. Pretty sure it’s coming from over here,” you said, playfully poking your finger at his temple.

He deadpanned as he repeated your name once more. It sounded almost… pleading. You didnt miss that, and though you still thought he was being over-the-top, you decided to give in.

“Fine…” you sighed “show me these life-saving moves, oh, mighty master!”

Russell cracked a grin, but his expression quickly shifted to that serious trainer look he was trying way too hard to pull off.

“Alright. First rule: break their grip. Grab my wrist… Come on, like you mean it.”

You reached out, gripping his wrist, and he showed you how to twist and pull back, making it surprisingly easy to break free. “See? Leverage, not strength” he explained.

“Okay, fine. Not bad” you admitted, trying not to let him see you were actually impressed. It was kind of cool.

He moved on, showing you a move to throw off an attacker.

“Step in close, get low, and drive your shoulder up under their chin” he said, positioning himself as the attacker. You gave it a try, and he stumbled back with a laugh.

“That’s the spirit!” he said, straightening up. You didn’t miss the small glint of pride in his eyes. “Alright, one more. This time, if someone comes at you from behind.”

Before you knew it, his arms were around you from behind, pulling you close. It was very déjà vu to the way he’d started this whole lesson. “Now, if you were actually in danger—”

“Danger, yes” you teased, leaning back into him just a bit and looked up at him through your lashes. “How’s a girl supposed to focus with such a handsome teacher breathing down her neck? I’m kind of having trouble concentrating, you know.”

He shook his head, a grin slipping out as he loosened his grip. “Laugh it up, sweetheart, but I’m serious here. You’ve got this. Just remember what I taught you, alright? What’s the most important rule!”

You smirked, crossing your arms. “When in doubt… aim for the balls.”

Russell chuckled, eyes sparkling with that familiar mischief. “That’s my girl” he said, pulling you into a kiss.

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A sharp throb pulsed through your skull, but it was nothing compared to the hollow ache in your chest. The cold floor beneath you felt like concrete, but you couldn’t be sure. For now, you kept your eyes closed, trying to piece together what the hell had happened.

The last thing you remembered was the warehouse — those two men ambushing you and Russell.

It was a trap. All of it, carefully set to lure Russell back in, and you along with him.

Your thoughts turned to Russell. He had to be here, somewhere… Somewhere close. The thought pushed you to crack one eye open. Dim light filtered through, casting shadows that made everything look warped and surreal.

You sat up slowly, feeling your muscles protest as you took in your surroundings. The room was small, cramped… more like a cell than a room.

The smell of mildew filled the air, mingling with the unmistakable metallic scent of rusted metal and something else. Blood. Your pulse quickened as you took in the details, every instinct screaming that escape wasn’t an option here.

Your gaze drifted to the far corner, where a dark shape slumped against the wall. Heart pounding, you squinted through the low light, hoping beyond hope that it was him. “Russell?” you tried to call out to him, but it was more of a whisper than anything.

A soft groan answered you, and relief mixed with dread flashed through your veins. You crawled forward, ignoring the scrape of the rough floor against your palms and knees.

As you got closer, Russell’s face came into view. It was uncharacteristically pale, smeared with a hint of dried blood. It wasn’t that bad, but still… it looked like his. His breaths were shallow, his eyes half-closed, and a few small bruises bloomed across his face and arms, telling you he hadn’t escaped this unscathed.

“Hey, Russ” you murmured, reaching out to touch his shoulder gently. His nickname felt both foreign and natural falling from your lips. It’s been a while since you called him that.

His skin was cold and clammy, but at your touch, his eyes fluttered open.

“Y/N…” he rasped with a voice that was both hoarse and somewhat defeated. He took a few moments to compose himself, but he quickly took in his surroundings. “I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t have brought you with me.”

Your heart twisted, but you forced a small smile. “Not like I gave you a choice.”

He attempted a smile, but it faded rather abruptly, leaving a shadow of worry on his face. “Where’s Colter?”

“He— he’s not here” you replied scanning the cramped cell. “Do you think they’ve added him to their collection of ‘missing persons’?”

“I don’t know. I can only hope he’s busy slapping some sense into our captors while we’re stuck here” he said, as he tried to stand up.

As the weight of the situation settled in, the sound of footsteps echoed from the hallway.

You exchanged wary glances, instinctively stepping closer together.

The door to your cell creaked open, revealing a man in a brown suede jacket, sunglasses — mind you, it was inside a semi-dark room — flanked by two guards. Your heart raced as he stepped in, a self-assured smirk playing on his mischievous lips.

Behind him, a small figure shuffled into view, clutching a foreign stuffed toy anxiously.

Emma.

“Look who’s here” the man said, his voice dripping with mockery.

Emma’s wide eyes scanned the room, filled with confusion and fear. “Mommy?”

You felt your heart stop. “Baby girl”

As those words left your lips, Russell seemed frozen in place, his mind momentarily shutting down. It was the first time he was face-to-face with her, his daughter. He took in her small figure, the way she clutched a stuffed toy she probably got from these men tightly, and the wide green eyes that reflected the fear of the days spent in captivity.

His face shifted from pure shock to something that looked like it hurt, like a dam just burst inside him. For a second, all the chaos, the danger, everything melted away, leaving just the connection he felt for her.

But the moment didn’t last long, quickly swallowed up by the harsh reality. You saw the pain flicker in Russell’s eyes as he processed it all. “You’re okay, sweetheart” you assured Emma, stepping closer —only for Mr Douche’s goons to block your path with a grunt. You shot him a look, then turned back to Emma. “We’re getting you out of here.”

The man in his Aviators chuckled, sounding like a cold, amused cacophony. “Isn’t this all so touching?” he said with a mocking smile. Then, his face turned serious. “Shaw, it’s good to see you. Been what? Five? Six months”

Russell didn’t answer, clearly not falling to his little tricks. The man spoke up again. “But let’s not forget why we’re here. You’ve got a decision to make. And this time, it’s not just about you.”

You shot a glare his way before leaning closer to Russell. “Who the hell is this guy?” you whispered.

Russell’s answer was dry as his eyes stayed fixed on the man. “The greatest jackass of all time.”

This was James Rourke, head honcho at Horizon, the very top of the food chain in the world Russell once belonged to. Rourke looked out of place in his fancy brown suede jacket, like he’d wandered in from some luxury lounge instead of a prison cell. And his mustache — a perfectly trimmed little fucking pornstache, practically begging to be mocked — did nothing to make him look any less ridiculous.

Rourke’s smirk widened, clearly enjoying the tension. He glanced over at Emma, who clutched her stuffed toy tighter, her little eyes darting between you and Russell. “Sweet girl” he said, his voice soaked with fake warmth “you must be wondering what’s going on. Don’t worry, it’ll all make sense soon.”

“Leave her out of this,” you snapped.

Rourke tilted his head, smirking like he found your defiance cute. “Oh, sweetie,” he drawled, flashing that irritatingly smug smile. “I don’t think you’re in any position to make demands.” He glanced at Russell, his eyebrows lifted with mock surprise. “Come on, Russell. Did you actually believe you could just walk away?”

Russell’s jaw tightened. “I’m done playing by your rules, Rourke.”

Rourke’s eyes lit up with that twisted, almost playful glint, like he was savoring every second of Russell’s resistance. “Oh, Russell, you seem confused. There is no choice here. You either come back… or things might get, well, complicated.” His gaze slid over to Emma, who instinctively shrank back, catching the meaning immediately, even if not completely.

Your heart hammered in your chest. “You wouldn’t dare” you hissed.

Rourke laughed, sounding genuinely amused this time. “Oh, wouldn’t I? Let’s just say I believe in incentives.” He shot a dark look at Russell “So, either you get back in line… or your little girl here learns just how persuasive I can be.”

The room went ice-cold. Russell’s fists clenched as he glared at Rourke. “You leave her out of this. She’s got nothing to do with your mess.”

Rourke shrugged like he was discussing the weather. "Then stop pretending you’re free to leave. You knew the fine print when you signed up.” He stepped back, giving the guards a nod like they were his personal fan club. “Think it over, both of you. And just a heads-up… I don’t make empty promises.”

As Rourke strode out — with Emma being pulled by her tiny hand, crying out for wanting to stay with you — he shot a final smug look over his shoulder, and the guards followed, slamming the cell door shut behind them.

You sighed as the lock clicked, trapping you both in again. But Russell wasn’t about to throw in the towel. Staying put? Not a chance. Not with you and Emma tangled in this nightmare, and definitely not with Rourke trying to pull the strings.

His gaze swept the cell, then froze on something up high: an air vent, nearly hidden behind a stack of old crates.

“Perfect” he muttered, a hint of determination lighting up his face.

He grabbed one of the crates and slid it under the vent, then looked at you with that familiar spark in his eye. He hauled one of the crates over and tapped it, motioning for you to step up. “Give me a hand up, sweetheart. If we can get the screws loose, we’re gone.”

The nickname caught you off-guard. It fell so easily from his mouth, yet, it seemed so bittersweet now. “Sweetheart?”

He flashed a quick grin, already reaching for the vent. “Old habits die hard. Now, help me with this, yeah?”

You nodded, steadying him as he climbed up and started working on the vent cover. Using a rusty nail he pried from one of the crates, Russell twisted at the screws, working them free with grunts of effort.

With the last screw finally out, you both heard voices echoing from the hallway. Adrenaline kicked in as you climbed up and squeezed into the narrow vent, praying this actually led somewhere.

You hated this. Your claustrophobic ass was kicking you from the inside. How did you end up in a mess like this?

“How are you holding up?” he asked in a whisper, but the concern in his voice was unmistakable. Right. He remembered.

“Stop talking, continue crawling.” you said hurriedly. The less you acknowledged the suffocating surroundings, the better.

YYou crawled along, knees scraping, until you spotted a grate at the end. Kicking it loose, you dropped into a pitch-black storage room. Quietly, you slipped into the hallway beyond, letting Russell lead — his sure footing somehow both reassuring and a little unnerving.

“You know this place?” you whispered, trying to keep the nerves out of your voice.

“Nah” he muttered, casting a glance around. “Just following my instincts.”

“Oh, good. And what do your instincts say about where Emma is?”

Then, like something straight out of a scripted movie, you heard it: a small voice that was unmistakably hers. “Mommy?”

You turned the corner, and there she was, standing behind a closed door with a small window, clutching her stuffed toy. No guards in sight felt like a miracle. Relief and desperation flooded you all at once. The door was locked tight, and there was no key laying around, for obvious reasons.

You watched with a continuously racing heart as Russell pulled a paperclip from his pocket — of all things — and straightened it. “Can’t believe they missed this little bad boy” he murmured, working it into the lock. His gun and knife hadn’t been as lucky; those were gone in an instant. But the paperclip? Somehow, it had slipped right past their search.

With a quiet click, the lock gave way, and Russell shot you a quick, triumphant grin.

You threw the door wide, scooping Emma into your arms as her tiny hands clung to you like a lifeline. She was trembling. Crying.

“Shh, baby girl” you whispered, holding her close. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

Russell debated to reach out, but decided now was not the time for a great family reunion. His eyes darted down the hall. “Alright, let’s get out of here before Rourke’s even had his morning coffee.”

“What about Colter?”

“I don’t know if he’s here. And the sooner we get her and you out of here, the better chances of… this ending good.”

He knew Colter could be in hot water, but he told himself he could handle it. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself to suppress the guilt. So far, there were no signs of Colter being around, and Rourke hadn’t mentioned him at all, which made him hope his brother was safely hiding somewhere.

And his priority right now was standing in front of him.

With Emma safe in your arms, you took a breath, steeling yourself for the final sprint to freedom.

You three tiptoed down the hallway when you turned a sharp corner and spotted a guy in black standing there. No visible weapons, which was a small victory in itself.

Your heart skipped a beat, but Russell quickly pulled you back next to the wall. He weighed his options, knowing he had to act fast.

“This ain’t going to be pretty. Just—“ he said as he motioned for you to turn around. You knew well what he was planning. And that indeed wasn’t going to be pretty. You nodded with a leaping heart and turned your back to him, clutching Emma’s head close to your chest, desperately trying to muffle any sounds that might come soon.

God, she's going to need a mountain of therapy after this. And maybe that puppy she’s been talking about.

Russell shot you a quick squeeze on the shoulder, a silent promise that everything would be okay. Then he stepped forward, moving with the kind of focus that made you hold your breath. You pulled Emma close with your heart racing as the seconds felt like goddamn hours.

There was a muffled thud.... and then silence. Russell’s hand on your back signaled it was safe, and you turned to see him standing over the guard, dusting off his hands with a grim, almost satisfied look.

“Alrighty” he whispered “no more interruptions, yeah?”

You let out a shaky breath and nodded, tightening your hold on Emma. Step by step, the three of you crept down the hallway, avoiding every echo and shadow, your goal almost within reach.

Then, up ahead, an exit sign cast a faint glow. Freedom was close enough to taste, and you exchanged a quick glance with Russell. You fult that tiny flicker of hope.

You took a deep breath, squeezing Emma a little tighter. Her small arms wrapped around your neck, a reminder of why you were risking everything. You need to stay calm.

Well, seemingly calm, at least.

You and Russell exchanged a look. Words weren’t necessary; you both knew exactly what was on the line here. Funny, you thought, how his combat skills now felt like a strange kind of comfort.

Just a few more steps down the hallway, and you ended up in a large, warehouse-style room, crates stacked high, lights flickering like something straight out of a bad action movie.

“Really? A crate room?” you muttered.

Russell scanned the area, eyeing a side door. “That might be our way out.”

“Oh yeah? Is that your gut talking, or do you actually know?”

Before he could shoot back, footsteps echoed down the hall. Russell hissed a quick curse and signaled for you to duck behind a stack of crates.

You crouched down, holding Emma close as the door creaked open and two guards strolled in, giving the room a once-over like they had it all under control.

“Think they’d make it this far?” one guard muttered.

The other chuckled. “No way. Shaw’s decent, but those two he’s with? Dead weight.”

Russell sized them up and he leaned in close. “Stay low.”

You gave a small nod, clutching Emma tighter.

Russell edged closer to the guards, blending into the shadows like a pro. In one smooth motion, he slammed the first guard into the second, and they both crumpled to the ground like a pair of falling dominoes. Before they could even register what was happening, he struck with quick punches and a perfectly timed knee, leaving them both out cold and wondering what just hit them.

Once they were on the floor, Russell wasted no time. He crouched down, quickly rifling through the guards’ gear. “We’re gonna need these” he muttered, pulling a pistol from one guard’s holster and a knife from the other. With practiced ease, he tucked the pistol into his waistband and handed the knife to you. “Think you can handle it?” he asked, a smirk tugging at his lips as he looked you over.

You raised an eyebrow at the guards' bodies, really, desperately trying to convince yourself they’re just sleeping. As you gripped the knife, you tried to motion your position to cover most of the scene from Emma. It worked, she was only focused on you. And you were only focusing on the difficulty of keeping her close with one hand.

Man, she is getting big.

“Well, my self-defense teacher never covered how to use a knife” you quipped.

Russell chuckled softly, a hint of pride in his eyes. “Just use it on instinct. Don’t hesitate when it counts. And remember to—”

“To aim for the balls” you finished with a smirk.

“I’d really like to meet your teacher. Must be a real pro” he said with a smirk.

You shrugged. “Eh, he was handsome, sure. But turned out he kept secrets.”

“Sounds like a total douche” he muttered, though you caught the guilt in his voice.

“Yep. Was a major douche.”

“Was?”

You gave him a teasing glance. “Well… I’m still trying to figure out what he’s like now.”

With a small smile and a quick glance at the guards, he pocketed extra ammo and anything else that might come in handy. Armed and ready, he led you both to the side door.

With Emma snug in your arms and a renewed sense of determination, you stepped into the night together.

For a second, the three of you standing there almost looked like some offbeat family photo… bittersweet, and about as far from normal as it gets.

But the moment you took in your surroundings, you felt a chilly sensation. This sure as hell didn’t look like Idaho Falls. Nor the rundown warehouse you’d started in.

You had no idea where you were.

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Next on Tuesday’s Gone (Sneak Peak from Chapter 5)

Emma tilted her head while her expression turned adorably thoughtful. “You’re hairy. Like grandpa.”

Russell chuckled as he ran a hand through his beard. “Yeah, I guess I am. It’s my pirate look.”

Her eyes lit up at the word pirate. “Are you a pirate?! Can I be one, too?”

“Absolutely” he replied. “But we have to be sneaky pirates, okay? No one can know we’re here.”

Your heart did a little flip at the sight. The way he talked to your daughter — his daughter — his voice surprisingly soft and sweet, even in this situation. Emma’s reaction wasn’t a shock, though. She had a habit of linking beards (like the one your dad rocked) with safety and familiar love.

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Whoa, we finally got that wonderfully chaotic family reunion! Can’t wait to dive deeper into Emma and Russell’s relationship in the upcoming chapters.

I hope you enjoyed reading.

Read Chapter 5 here

🤍Taglist🤍

@bitchykittenconnoisseur @smoothdogsgirl @spnfamily-j2 @winchesterwild78 @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @zepskies @kr804573 @sebastianstangirl01 @kmc1989

[uzumaki-rebellion]

Spinning the Block Part 3

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Officer Jessica "Jess" Sims

Warning(s): 18+ Animal violence (hunting)

Summary: Jess tries to avoid running into Terry again, but a tip given to her may reveal who killed Mike in prison.

Word count: 4. 4K

"After all that we've been through

I know we'll make it,

I know the way

The question is it true

There is nothing we can't do

I see you along the way baby

The stillness is the move"

Solange – "Stillness is the Move"

Jess spread the bucket of corn on the cob that she soaked for a week on the ground. Dawn broke an hour earlier and the morning sky barely turned a pale peach to match the time of day. She kicked around the ears of corn that soured over time and spread a pungent odor in the air. The perfect bait for wild hogs that roamed on her granddaddy's land.

She lifted her high-powered Marlin 336 rifle onto her shoulder and carried the empty bucket away, stashing it behind a snag tree. Trudging past the bait, she joined up with her father and grandfather. Wild hog hunting had been passed down in her family for five generations. Her hunting knife rested against her right hip for dressing up game on site. Plenty of wild game thrived on the property — deer, turkey, raccoons, rabbit, alligator, wood ducks — but the Sims family loved some good feral hog meat.

Louisiana hog hunting required patience, a talent for shooting, and quick thinking on the spot. In the old days, her grandfather Hebert used trained hunting dogs with her father, Jermaine, and her three uncles. The dogs had all died off over the decades except for a ten-year-old brown and black hound dog named Redbone, the last of his lineage. Jess lived with Redbone and Hebert on the property. Ever since she lost her job with the police department because of its shut down over Terry's case, Hebert's house became her refuge. She took care of him, and he gave her shelter from financial ruin.

Redbone, blind in one eye, rested near Hebert's feet behind the camo netting they used to blend into the surroundings. Hebert stretched his legs in a folding chair and peered out into the trees with his binoculars. His lank gray hair looked thinner pulled back in a long ponytail that touched the middle of his back. She noticed the once sallow coloring of his fair skin had improved. His health hadn't relapsed since she'd been home most days while unemployed. Rheumatoid arthritis wore on him before. Perhaps her presence energized him. He had his good days and bad days with pain in his hands and feet. But today was a good one. Hebert could bend his fingers and shuffle his feet along without wincing.

The hogs roused up early in the morning and stayed active, openly, until full light. Hebert wanted to participate in the hunting, and Jess worried that a long outing would bother him. She found a doctor that prescribed marijuana usage to help his pain management, and since she no longer worked, he shared his weed with her on some nights when inflammation got bad. He toked on a little before they left the house. It pleased her that the effects lasted.

Jermaine nudged the drag sled prepared to haul the meat out.

"We'll probably need to take down about three or four…if we're lucky," Jermaine said.

"We're in the best hotspot, Daddy," Jess said.

Jermaine patted her shoulder and slid his hunting goggles down over his eyes. The feral hogs on their land were invasive, and the state welcomed hunters culling their populations. Hebert often gave permission to outsiders to come on their land to hunt for a small fee. He already allowed loggers to remove walnut trees annually for extra income. Any money he made from those two ventures he split among his children and used the rest to pay his property tax.

They perched quietly behind their camo netting for four hours. Jess noticed Redbone's nose twitching, and she slid her wrap-around shades on and peeked through her telescopic sight. Four rotund hogs barreled into view, chomping down on the corn.

Jess lined up her shot. Unfortunately, the wind shifted slightly, blowing their scent toward the animals. A mottled pink one caught the odor of human and hound, alerting the others.

BLAM!

BLAM!

Jess and Jermaine blasted the brains of two hogs, causing the others to scatter. They both used their levers to reload and popped off two more rounds. Jess downed another hog while her father clipped the shoulder of the one he aimed for. Jumping out from behind the camo, Jermaine went after the injured hog to finish it.

"Daddy! Watch out!"

Another aggressive hog appeared from out of nowhere and charged Jermaine. Jess shot it behind the ear, and it dropped a foot away from her father.

"Getting slow," Jess teased.

"Some good shootin', Jess," Hebert called out.

"Learned from the best," she said, and winked at him.

Jermaine killed the injured hog, and Jess dragged over the sled. Her father was a big, muscular, cornbread fed man, and he used that strength to drag two hogs onto the sled. She packed up the camo net and grabbed the bucket.

"Grandpa, I'll get the chair in a minute. You just relax," Jess said.

Redbone jumped around being frisky and followed Jess behind her father. They trudged along the wooded area until they reached Jermaine's truck. She helped him lift each hog onto the truck bed and they headed back to Hebert and repeated the process two more times. Hebert admired the hundreds of pounds of fresh meat piled on the truck.

"Gon' be some good barbecue," Hebert said.

Back home, Jermaine and Jess set about cutting up the meat behind the house. They donned protective covering and surgical gloves to prevent bacterial contamination.

After gutting the pigs, Jess and her father strung them up under their hunter gazebo. Herbert added salt to three large coolers half filled with ice on standby. Jermaine would transfer the meat to his house and a few others covered in the ice, and Jess's mother would prep their share for the big Saturday cookout.

Jess used her big knife to skin the carcasses, and then she dove right in to carve out sections of meat. She deboned joints, cut off shoulders, back strap, ham parts, hocks, and kneckbones. She used a smaller knife to work on the tenderloin parts and ribs once they moved the rest to a work table nearby. The pigs were too lean to carve out bacon, so she worked efficiently to get as much useful meat as possible off the carcass. Jermaine used a lopper to snap apart larger bones, joints, and the heads when needed. It took them about an hour to cut and quarter the various parts needed for Saturday. The rest would go into a deep freezer for winter soup beans and stews. Her father would drop off the unused parts at a rendering plant to be turned into fertilizer. It was a good day of hunting.

She cleaned up the gazebo and work table and then took a shower. Hebert caught up on his marathon viewing of Law & Order episodes in the livingroom. She fixed him an early dinner of baked sweet potato with turnip greens and fried catfish, placing it on a TV dinner tray in front of his recliner. Sitting near him on the couch, she ate with him and quietly watched cops go after bad guys. After Terry's case, Jess couldn't watch the show the same way again.

Terry.

Jess nibbled on her catfish. Was he still in town? She planned on staying away from the town square. No need to tempt fate and run into that man again. He was a past that needed burying.

The landline rang, and Jess answered it. Her friend Melody sounded breathless.

"Jess…girl…come on down to the Pit with me and Alexa tonight. It's Ladie's night and free cover. Alexa doesn't have to work tomorrow, so she's up for some drinking and dancing."

Jess glanced at her grandfather.

"Who is it?" he asked.

Jess covered the mouthpiece.

"Melody wants me to go down to the Pit tonight with Alexa."

Hebert waved his hand.

"Go on and get outta the house. Do you some good to be out with your girlfriends. I'll be okay by myself."

"You sure?"

"I got Redbone with me."

"Promise not to overdo it on the weed?"

"A man runs out of his house naked one time, and now his granddaughter can't trust him to be by hisself," he grumbled.

Jess giggled.

"Okay, I'm in," she said into the phone.

"Oh, good! Dress real cute, because you know Zion is on the prowl for you."

Jess sucked her teeth.

"I wish y'all would stop tryna fix me up with that man."

"Girl, do you know how hard it is to find a fine man that's single, child-free, and looking to settle down right away? He's had his eye on you for the longest."

"With all that's been going on with me, I don't see how he could be interested."

"Jess, hush, now. All that shit is over and done with. Time for a new start… and time for you to throw your hat in the ring before he gets snatched up. Be ready by seven thirty. Cover is free until nine. We get there early and we can get a good booth seat by the dance floor."

"Alright. I'll be ready. But I'm driving there myself."

She hung up and sighed.

"You don't sound excited," Hebert said.

"It's a setup. They're tryna get me with Zion."

"Zion is a nice fella. Decent family. I know his grandfather real well. You not interested in dating?"

"People think partnering up with somebody is going to make me happy now that I'm not working. I need a job, not a man."

"Zion makes good money down at the plant. Let a man spoil you a little bit if he wants to. You ain't gotta marry him or nothin'."

"You right, Granddaddy. You right. I just don't want to feel pressured about it, like I can't get a man on my own…if I wanted one."

She lifted his empty plate and glass from his tray.

"You want anymore to eat?"

"Nah, I'm full. That was a tasty dinner. Thank you."

She picked up her empty plate and piled it on his. While washing dishes in the kitchen, she thought of what to wear.

The Pit smelled like perfumed sweat and chicken grease, a thick country kind of odor that lingered in the air. Jess didn't know if that was a good or bad thing. She flat ironed her hair so that it looked long and silky falling down her back, but by the time she got inside the jumping club, her edges curled back because of the heat. A live band kicked up some fiery zydeco music, and she danced with several men before taking a breather at a booth seat with her friends. Several men bought them drinks, and Jess sulked a bit when she didn't find Zion anywhere. All that talk about him seeking her affections by her friends didn't pan out. She twisted her hair into a high bun and sipped on some bourbon. Revealing some cleavage kept plenty of other suitors barking up her tree.

Shelby Springs men loved big women. The more rolls on the belly and back, the better, too. The women were known to be talented cooks in the kitchen and in the bedroom, and southern Black Creole men had a predilection toward securing one and wifing them up. They liked buxom chests, real asses, and lively personalities.

Jess knew she was a catch.

Men eyed her up and down the moment she walked in the door, displaying her wares and swinging her hips from east to west. Tight booty-hugging jeans. Low cut V-neck top with her good strapless push-up bra. High heel ankle boots gave her extra va-voom. Her breasts were always her best lure, and then the men noticed she had a pretty face to match all the big girl curves. Pear-shaped with a short waist, Jess could use her front and back to attract dance partners.

The Pit was full of Black Creoles and Black Cajuns. There's no real hardcore distinction between the two in Jess's mind. After hundreds of years, they were all a big pot of gumbo culturally. Most of the Black Cajuns descended from the French Canadians that migrated to Louisiana from Acadie. Her great-grandfather used to tell Hebert stories about their white side. That's how Jess learned that Acadians were referred to as 'cadians by English speakers in Louisiana that eventually mutated into 'cajuns'.

The Black Creoles had immigrant French and Italian roots from Europe with some Indigenous heritage that spread out from New Orleans. Many of the Black Creoles had bloodlines all the way from Haiti. Out of the two, Creoles were the wilder by far because they had liberation DNA encoded in them from their African and Native ancestry. There was something about that Black and Red mix that stood out sometimes. Whenever Jess had to be called out as a cop to break up fights or do a welfare check, she could tell how things would go down by the ancestry. Black Cajuns valued communication first before they went off…but the Creoles? Pfft. Those negroes were cayenne pepper. Fists first, questions last.

Terry Richmond was definitely a Creole.

Jess chugged down her drink. The man lingered in her mind like a severe headache. He hugged her, and she knew what those muscles felt like now…the same ones that beat the ass of nearly a dozen men in front of her without using a gun. Pure Creole fury.

He smelled good, too.

Jess stood and walked around with Melody and left their two other friends, Patricia and Alexa, to watch their purses and seats. She tapped her feet to the hot, rambunctious music and searched around for another dance partner.

A man at the bar kept staring at her. He had a lean, rawhide build and purposely kept his baseball cap low on his face to obscure his eyes. Every few seconds, he glanced over at Jess. She sensed he wasn't interested in dancing or checking her out sexually. He studied her. She moved away to see if he would follow, and he did. She positioned herself behind some tall men near the end of the bar, facing the dance floor. Melody went to the restroom, and Jess waited for her. Right when Melody came back, a cute short king grabbed her hand to dance and pulled her away from Jess. Zion appeared then, and Jess forgot all about the man with the cap.

"Where you been?" Jess asked.

Zion grinned, flashing her big teeth. A husky man nearly six feet tall, he had rugged good looks and a flirtatious voice that sounded playful in her ear. Sweat shined up his dark brown skin. A crisp new haircut and fancy fits helped him stand out from the crowd, especially his gator skin boots.

"I've been looking for you, sweet thing," he uttered with sly charm.

"That's what I hear."

"What we gonna do about it, then?"

Jess grabbed his hand and dragged him out to the center of the dance floor, hugging her body tight against his as the ricochet of silver spoons dragging across a metal washboard and a reedy accordion squeezed by a heavyset man singing in French Creole controlled their spinning and grinding in time to the music. Jess snaked her hips and Zion swiveled his. The heat of her crotch rested on his thigh as they wiggled down to the floor and back up, the old school French La La music of her granddaddy's day pushing them to go faster and faster. Zion swung her out in a catch and release move and they yelled their delight at being alive in a sweltering club. God, it felt good to dance her blues away!

They stayed on the packed dance floor for three full songs until Jess begged for a break in her boots. She grabbed her purse and took a breather outside. A quick call on her smartphone reassured her that her grandfather was tucked in bed for the night. He told her not to come home early if she didn't need to, hinting that it was okay to hook up with Zion if she wanted.

She hung up and wiped perspiration from her brow, and noticed the reflection of the strange man behind her from the car window. Digging into her purse, she pretended to put her phone away and reached for her nine millimeter handgun to scare him. He caught her in the blind sight of the club, where no one would see or hear them by the SUV. She spun around and aimed it at his chest.

"The fuck are you following me for?" she barked.

The man held his hands up.

"Easy…I just want to talk to you."

"About what?"

"Terry Richmond."

She narrowed her eyes. Kept the gun on him.

"What about him?"

"I know who you are and I know what those cops did to him…and his cousin."

The man glanced around to make sure no one heard them.

"I have some information and know who killed Mike Simmons. I was at the prison where he was murdered."

Jess drew in a sharp breath.

"You betta not be fucking lying."

"I'm not. I also know the location of the weapon that was used on him. Hid it myself."

"Where?"

"We can't talk here. I'll meet you somewhere safe. You choose where. But I'ma need some money for the information to help me get outta town. It'll be too dangerous for me to stay here once I tell you."

"There's always some catch involving cash."

"It is what it is."

"How much?"

"Ten thousand dollars."

Jess rolled her eyes.

"You think I'm supposed to pay you that?"

"Not you…him. I know he's in town. I saw you with him."

She kept the gun on him and pulled out her cell.

"Give me your number."

"225-342-6863"

She typed and then glared at him.

"What's your name?"

His eyes diverted toward noisy patrons leaving the club in the opposite direction.

"Zeb Chapman."

Jess took a long, hard look at him.

"Zion's brother? How long have you been out of prison?"

"Eighteen months."

She relaxed and put away her weapon. Slinging her purse across her shoulders, Jess stared at him, full of curiosity.

"Call me and tell me where to meet you, Jess. I swear this ain't no con. I shouldn't even be seen with you. If they know I contacted you, they'd kill me."

"They?"

Zeb's jittery moves let her know he was truly nervous.

"Call me."

Zeb scurried back into the club. Jess stood next to her car to gather her thoughts. She assumed the "they" Zeb mentioned must've been the gangsters that had it out for Mike for snitching on a mob boss back east. It was the main reason Terry was vigilant about getting his cousin's bail. An uncomfortable tightness clenched her stomach. She called Melody on her phone.

"Where are you?" Melody squeaked, with the feisty zydeco music cracking in the background.

"I have a headache and went to my car. I'm going to head home early."

"Okay, call me and let me know you made it home safe. Are you good to drive?"

"I'm fine."

"I'm sorry you're not feeling well. Zion is looking for you."

"Tell him I'll catch him on the dance floor another time."

"Will do."

Jess dug into her purse again and pulled out a business card at the bottom. Terry's motel number was a few touches away on her phone. It might be too late to call. Plus, she didn't want him to have her number. She could just drive over there, knock on his door, and give him the information directly. He could pass it off to the authorities and she could wash her hands of the whole thing.

She popped open the trunk and rummaged around for something else to put over her top. Just a gray long-sleeve shirt sat under a pile of plastic recycled shopping bags. She glanced around and quickly yanked off her sexy top and traded it for the gray shirt.

Loading the GPS with the motel address, Jess quelled the anxiousness rising in her chest. Her Durango rode smoothly on the highway and she arrived at the rinky-dink establishment in less than twenty minutes. She parked at the far end of the guest parking and watched the property. Terry's room was the middle one on the bottom floor. The outside light was on and the curtains were drawn. She couldn't tell if the indoor lights were on because the curtains looked dark and heavy. Debating to get out or not, Jess sat in the SUV for half an hour, mustering up the guts to face him. Eventually, she hopped out and strode toward his room.

She knocked on the door and waited.

Knocked again.

No answer.

She closed her eyes, thankful that he wasn't there. It would be better to deal with everything in the morning with the soothing light of day. She turned to go back to her vehicle and bright headlights blasted her eyes. A car pulled in front of the empty parking space facing Terry's door. Summer and Terry stared at her in surprise. They both stepped out of Summer's car and faced her.

"Hey," she said.

Terry's lips quirked up into a half smile. The whites of his eyes looked pink under the overhead light of his room. But the green stayed intense…probing. He had a way of looking at people that unraveled them. Jess glanced at Summer.

"Summer was dropping me off," Terry said.

"Yeah, we just had dinner…dropping him off for the night," Summer said.

Terry took in her uneasy stance. It was after eleven at night. He turned to Summer.

"Thanks for a great meal, and the ride back," he said.

"No problem. Talk to you another time. Before you leave."

Summer awkwardly looked at Jess.

"Good seeing you, Jess."

"Yeah."

"Night y'all," Summer said.

She climbed into her car and drove off. Terry used a motel card to slip inside the door handle slot of room six instead of five. An audible click sounded off, and Terry opened the door wide.

"Come in," he said.

He reached inside and flicked on a light. Jess walked in before he did. Everything in the simple room was neat and undisturbed.

"Sit," he said, offering her the only chair in the room.

He sat on his bed.

"There's no air conditioning in room five. It broke before I went to dinner with Summer, so the manager switched me into this room. I'm glad you showed up. I had no way to contact you about the change. What brought you here so late?"

"A man approached me outside of a club tonight. He's been watching me and said he knows who killed your cousin. He wants to meet in a safe place."

Jess watched the information spread across Terry's features like water rippling across a pond. His eyes bore into hers like a sun blazing through a magnifying glass, causing her to shift uncomfortably in her seat and dart her gaze elsewhere. Like the wall to her right.

"Who is he?"

"He claims to have been in the prison with Mike when it happened. He's scared, and he also wants you to pay him ten thousand for the information."

Terry bolted from the bed.

"Take me to him right now."

He loomed over her, and those damn eyes rooted her to the chair.

"Jess…take me to him."

It was a stern command.

She jumped up.

"I'll give you his number—"

"If he's still at the club, you know what he looks like and can point him out to me. I need to talk to him tonight."

"It might spook him. He said he'll be in danger once he tells you. The money is for his escape from town."

Terry walked around the bed and pulled open the closet door. He dug into a suitcase, pulling out a fresh shirt. He took off the one he had on and replaced it with a form-fitting black shirt that fit his chest like new skin. Jess averted her gaze. His dark chinos and stylish black Moschino boots didn't need changing. He tucked a pair of shades into his shirt.

"C'mon…you drive," he said.

She couldn't protest. The determination in his face and steps forced her to comply and follow him.

Outside, she led him to her Durango.

"He might be gone already."

"Then we'll call him if he is."

She drove him in silence and slid into a parking spot not too far from her original one earlier. He climbed out and she walked to the back of her SUV. She opened her trunk and picked up her sexy top.

"Turn your head, please," she said.

Terry looked away, and she pulled off the long sleeve shirt, switching back to her previous top. She adjusted it and smoothed back her hair. He turned back around and her stomach filled with butterflies. Her cleavage worked its magic despite the circumstances, and Terry showed his hand by glancing at her breasts. He threaded his fingers with hers and tossed his shades on, pulling her toward the club entrance.

"Once we get inside, you play it cool. Understand? We're just on a night out together. When you spot him, whisper in my ear," he said.

The words flew right over her head. His hand was gentle, yet strong, holding hers. She could feel underboob sweat breaking out on her breasts. They reached the front entrance, and Jess took a deep breath. Terry squeezed her hand, reassuring her, and they stepped inside together.

Part 4 Soon come...

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[hoiststowline]

ultra magnus x reader

He pauses, almost mid-action, as a revelation consumes him, the temperamental frown etched wondrously deep into his face plate only holds steadfast. Looking around, a bemused sensation skates across his processor, realizing something was painfully missing, a vast trench within a neatly executed puzzle.

A quick check of his internal clock proves true that it was slightly past the time he was typically interrupted, but a welcomed interference if he could describe it most accurately. It practically threw him off from the mountain of paperwork, having gotten entirely too used to the sound of his office door sliding over by now that when the room is not filled with your occasional chatter, it feels simply too empty.

Instances, when you would occasionally click a video on your device and the volume, was turned up too high, hastily clicking the pause button while whispering curses. "Sorry, sorry!" You'd stumble, thinking he would be offering nothing short of a disapproving glower, to your surprise, he actually softly smiles, unbothered.

Or when you'd lounge atop his desk, laid out on your stomach as you'd throw yourself into assignments or other miscellaneous work, infrequently using him as a dictionary. "Mags? What does convivial mean?"

"To be cheerful or friendly," He'd reply without ever looking up, too engrossed in his own responsibilities, but would never not answer your important question, as they were all such.

Your absence was noted greatly, felt largely within the cramped four metal walls. Distraction was not so bad, you've come to explain to him, as he found productivity the most when you would chatter on about your day when all he had to do was ask.

Slowly, he stood from the desk, taking immediate notice of how inelastic his joints felt, meaning he was already on the path to an uncomfortable recharge. It is nothing to navigate the halls, wandering almost aimlessly until he ceases just shy of the cargo bay, his entire body unmoving at the sound of something he cannot place.

Easily, from the ajar entrance, he spots the form he'd been searching for, stationed in the furthest yet most empty corner of the room. You're holding your head in your hands, plainly distressed, a feat that sends a wave of alerts that do nothing but worry him more.

"y/n?" He didn't realize he uttered it, and you probably would not have heard it save for the echo that runs across the length of the room. It's soft but decipherable as you yank your gaze up, a puffiness adorning your face he's never seen before.

When you lock eyes with him across the floor, your heart leaps to your throat, subconsciously blanking on any feasible lie that you could conjure. Magnus stands in the doorway, rightfully unamused and almost speechless by your display.

Coming to, you turn away from him, using your palms to expeditiously wipe at the tears that lingered on your cheeks, even as more come to replace the older ones. Something proved embarrassing, whether that be he seeing you in such a state, or having to try and explain why you reacted in such a way.

Thinking you are unwell or hurt, he traverses the room in six strides, coming to one knee at your front whilst running his optics over every inch of you, searching for your ailment. When he finds none, he keeps his voice at an unfamiliar low and leans just a bit more forward, commanding your attention.

"What has happened," And it's not posed as a question, more so a demand, wondering who could have harmed you to such a degree without leaving a mark.

"I don't want to talk about it," Defenses high, you can't meet his intimidating gaze for even a moment, knowing you'd break down once more. "I'm fine."

Understanding very well you're not, he maneuvers himself to the left, now leaning up against the wall as you currently were, dwarfed by his shadow.

"You are not," Magnus rumbles, elbows poised on his bent knees as his servos dangle freely, such an informal pose for someone known to be so stiff. "But I shall respect your wishes. If only for the time being."

Why he stayed, you wouldn't know, nor could you get your mind unclouded enough to venture a guess. Instead, a glassiness returns to your eyes, scavenging already teetering tears to the surface once more a newfound waver to your tone.

When you force yourself to even your breathing, squeeze your eyes so tight that the tears would just cease altogether. It erupts into a futile effort as an immovable force pulls you taught to his side, cheek now smushed up against his lower torso. Blinking wildly, you try for a moment to wrangle yourself free, but his hold proves committed.

While Ultra Magnus had always been kind to you, you never dared to test his level of patience or sought his company in instances such as these. Every now and then, they occurred, but not frequently enough that he'd caught you in such a disposition before, often glued to his side. He liked you for some enigmatic reason and enjoyed your presence and companionship when others whispered about how unapproachable he was.

He was overawing, at least at first impressions, perhaps guarded, but you'd never found him standoffish. So when he extended such sentiments, you wished someone could see him, just to observe him in this light that he wasn't so callous as everyone assumed.

"Whenever you may be ready," He muses, index finger raising before gently tapping the length of your leg, a gesture that settles your rampaging heart. "I shall be here."

You nod into his side, hand finding his plating in a poor attempt to hold him just a little tighter. He wasn't coddling you, respecting your boundaries and requests, but making his company known so you would not retreat to self-loathing. You needed this, a concept unbeknownst, and his stern composure kept you grounded as you listened to the humming of his machinery.

Magnus freezes every so slightly as your arm comes to his torso, fingers only able to reach well below his spark. You bundle deeper into his side, and the only reason he comprehends your reply is because your lips move across his plating.

"Thanks," You rasp, blinking away another round of tears. "Really, Mags. You're the best."

A million inquiries press against his mind, wondering how long you'd been in here and what was factually the source of your woes, but he hushes them all, storing them away for another time. Once more, his digit raises only to pat your side, understanding he was comforting you in some inconceivable way.

"Anytime." It's genuine, striving to enforce that truly, at any time, you could seek his assistance, and he'd be there for you. Your outward anguish would come to pass, but the root of your pain would remain, holding firm until there would be someone there to fight its battle.

And he intended to do so.

[slimybeth69]

Que Será, Será: Part 8

Rating: Explicit- Smut, violence, drinking/drug use. MDNI!! Summary: It's almost twenty years after some weird outbreak almost happened but the CDC took care of that...Now you're living in Austin, Texas as an adult.What happens when you meet Joel Miller who hasn't been hardened and ruined by twenty years of murder and loss? Warnings/Tags: DaddyDom!Joel/ you. no use of y/n. No physical description of the reader besides one tattoo. Reader has a background story. Drinking/drug use. Slow burn. Smut. Angst. Cheating. Graphic depictions of violence. Eventual loss of virginity. Use of nicknames/pet names (lil girl, baby girl.) DD/lg dynamics. BDSM play. Unbeta'ed. WIP. Cross-posting from my Ao3. Chapter Warnings: read at your own discretion- no warnings due to chapter spoilers.

Previously--

Joel doesn’t text you or call you for four days. You are fuming. So mad. Not sad anymore. Rage filled. But you only text him one thing on the fourth day and nothing else. 

Cool. 

And then you almost throw your phone against the wall but…you can’t afford a new phone and a laptop. Not even with Joel paying for the window. Your phone dings and it’s him. Your heart flutters until you open it. 

Sorry.

Currently-

Cool, cool, cool, cool, cool, cool, cool. Love that. Love all of this.

This is fucking wonderful.

You delete his text thread. You hesitate deleting the contact info because…that would be it. You don’t have any other way of contacting him unless you show up to his front door. You don’t delete it. You’ll hold on to it for a night you get real drunk and wanna make a fool of yourself. 

It’s another two weeks later and you’re at work, cashing people out when he comes through your line. You don’t even notice until he says something. You hadn’t even looked up.

“Hi.”

When you do look it feels like your heart is going to fall into your ass. 

“Hi.” It comes out of you so quiet and small. You’re so fucking scared for some reason. It feels like all the bones in your body have been turn to liquid.

“How y'been?” He asks and sounds shy. You shrug your shoulders and the anger returns. 

“Fine.” You snap softly. 

“Good.” Joel speaks softly to you but doesn’t say anything else. 

You cash him out and then he leaves. You’re so thankful that no one was behind him. You tell the person working next to you–with tears in your fucking eyes– that you need to go to the restroom and you’ll be right back. You spend ten minutes in there fucking crying. Heartbroken. 

Your co-worker– an older woman named Babs, comforts you gently when you come back teary eyed and red faced.

“You cryin’ over that mean lookin’ feller?” She asks quietly when no one else is around. You nod, but don’t start crying again. You can’t. You’ll have to leave if you start again. “Eh, you can do better.” She shrugs her shoulders.

It makes you feel worse because you don’t want ‘better’ you want Joel Miller. Wanted him so fucking badly it hurt everywhere. These last couple weeks have been nothing but pain and you can't even pinpoint it because it feels like it's overtaking your whole world.

You drive home and go straight to the whiskey cabinet. No fucking around tonight. You are drinking to be drunk. Drunk, drunk.

You change into something more comfortable, almost nothing— a little sundress because it’s hot. So fuckin’ hot. You bring your bong and bottle of whiskey outside with a can of Coke.

It’s happening: you’re getting over Joel Miller tonight. 

That bottle goes down…quicker than you expect it to, easier too. There wasn’t much left and…now it’s gone. So, you’re feeling better. Feeling not as sad. Not mad at all. Numb. Good. It’s good. Better than sad. Yes. Smoke weed. Get drunk. Be numb. The best way to handle your problems. 

It’s getting dark when your phone rings. You’re too drunk to care who it is. 

“Yessss?” You answer…very drunkenly.

“Y’expectin’ my call or somethin’?” Joel chuckles into the phone nervously. 

“Whaaaat?” You’re in shock. Stunned and still drunk. “Why’re y’callin’ m’fer?” You slur into the phone loudly. 

“You okay there, lil girl?” He asks, sounding worried about you and not nervous at all anymore.

“I’mm. Fiiiine.” You try to snap but it comes out long and drawn out, but annoyed. 

“Don’t sound fine… ” He speaks softly now. 

“Well why would I be? Huh? Huh?” You are angry again hearing his voice. “Jus’fuckin’ ‘banoned me? Fuuuck yooooou.” You are too drunk to be talking to him right now. You really should just go to bed. “I liked y-you ssoo muuuch. SOO much. I did.” You poke your chest like he can see you. “N’ y’fuckin’ leave.” You’re sad. Almost crying now. “Fuuck yoooou. I liked you!!!” 

“Can we talk?” He asks, sounding ashamed, not hearing or not caring that you’re hammered. 

“I’m lissstenin’.” You slur in a hiss. You’re pissed off. Drunk and angry.

“In person, stupid.” Joel chuckles into the phone. 

“M’not fuckin’ drivin’ nowhere. M’not that stupid!” You snap into the phone.

“M’out front. You don’ gotta go nowhere.” He whispers into the phone. You look at the back door of the house like you can see right through all the wood and drywall and plaster to try and see him. 

“Comin’.” You hang up on him and make your way to the front door. Joel is walking up to meet you as it opens. 

“Hey…” He says softly. 

“Fuuck. Yoou.” You teeter to one side but steady yourself. 

“You drinkin’?” Joel pinches his brows together softly. 

“Soooo much.” You glare at him like that’s supposed to bother him or make him feel some type of way. But it does. 

“Why?” He asks with a shrug on one shoulder. You haven’t invited him so he still on the porch. 

“Because.” You snap. ‘That’ss it.” You nod your head and blink for a long time. 

“You gon’ be okay?” Joel asks as you open your eyes. 

“Yesss.” You sigh at him.

“You want me t’go home? Delete yer’ number?” He asks quietly. “Want me t’ask y’again when yer’ sober?” He chuckles now but it doesn’t last long and he goes back to staring at you. You do not know. You want him to stay. But…why? He’s embarrassed of you. 

“I dunno.” You whisper up to him. 

“I’m sorry.” He shrugs his shoulders and tries to teach for you but you take a step back from him and scowl. “You hate me now?” Joel leans against the door frame and looks down at you sadly. 

“Y’hurt my feelin’s.” You grumble. “You're ‘sha–med of me.” You hiccup. Joel shakes his head. 

“No. I’m not.” He whispers. “I mean it. We can talk in the morning when yer’ sober. I’ll come back.” He nods his head and reaches for your hand.

You let him take it and he rubs his thumb across the back of your finger. “I wan’ you.” Your drunk heart and brain tell him what you want for you. “Real bad.” You nod at him.

“Yer’ so drunk, baby. Can I put ya t’bed?” Joel asks softly.

You keep nodding at him and he helps you back into the house and starts to lead you down to the basement.

“M’stuff… ” You point out to the back deck near the pool but Joel just walks you to the top of the stairs.

You take one stumbling step down before Joel wraps one arm around your waist, lifts you quickly and gets you downstairs himself, holding you facing out with your back against his chest.

You’re very concerned about your things outside though. “I got thingsss outssside.” You look up at him as he puts you into bed and pulls the blanket up over you. 

“I’ll go get ‘em.” He kisses the top of your head very softly and turns your fan on, turns the lights off and then you’re passed out.

It’s not a pretty morning. It hurts. The whiskey hurts you so bad. You don’t even want to open your eyes.

No. You cannot. You will die here in this bed in the basement. Die of sadness and loneliness, probably. You could weep from the pain and the heartbreak.

Agatha meows softly and jumps up on the bed behind you. You pspspspss her real good but she never comes. You roll over and then fall out of your bed quite literally. Jump out screaming, is more like it!

There is a man beside you– Joel Miller!? And he’s petting your cat!!

“What are you doing here?” You ask from the floor as Joel rolls over onto his back to look at you. 

“Want me t’go? I stayed in case ya got sick or whatever.” Joel shrugs his shoulders and sounds disappointed in your reaction to seeing him. 

“When did you get here? How did you get in?” You’re still on the floor and still so confused. Your head is pounding and you just wanna go get sick and crawl back into bed. 

“Last night. Showed up after y’started boozin’.” Joel explains and starts to get out of your bed. He has all of his clothes on except for his boots. “I’ll go. M’sorry fer’ jus’ showin’ up. Saw ya at the store yesterday n’ ya looked real nice. I been missin’ you. Wanted to talk if you’d listen…” Joel trails off as he stands at the end of your bed, towering over you still sitting on the floor. He extends his hand and helps you to your feet. 

“You– you don’t have to go.” You whisper softly. “I don’t want you to.”

Joel’s eyes light up and he takes a step closer to you. You might be sick. You put one hand over your mouth and dart into the bathroom. 

It's possible, by the power of Satan himself flowing through you that you are fine. You are going to be okay. You drink water and...actually just have to get into the shower.

It’s good there.

It feels so good to lay down, so you do, you lay down and curl up into a ball on the floor of the stand up shower for an embarrassingly long time.

All you can think about is what happened last night that your blacked-out brain cannot remember. Did you embarrass yourself? Did you do anything stupid that he can use against you in the future? Did you say that you loved him?

Ugh.

You're not sure Joel would tell you any of those things, even if they did happen.

When you stand up, things don't hurt as much, but you feel just as disgusting as you did when you got in, so you wash and scrub the evidence of the day before off and let it swirl around the drain and into the pipes to be gone forever.

You get out, and brush your teeth- that's what you needed more than anything.

When you come out you can feel his eyes on you immediately, but you don't look at him. You pull on a pair of panties with your towel still wrapped around you. You do the same thing with a new dress that barely touches any of your body when you put it on.

That's when you take off the towel and finish drying your hair.

“I’ll understand if y’dont wanna smoke…” Joel gives you a sad smile as he watches you from the couch.

It's so hard to be mad at him for ignoring you, and not giving you any explanation for why he didn't want to see you anymore when he's looking at you with his big, sad brown eyes.

“Why’d ya leave that day?” You ask softly, sitting yourself down on the couch with enough distance between you for a whole person to lay down.  

“You know. S’awkward. ” Joel shrugs his shoulders, his eyes not meeting yours anymore. “Made me feel weird– bad." Joel doesn’t sound mad when he says this, he sound almost regretful. "Felt like a fuckin' pervert."

Now you're scared of the reason he came over here.

“What changed?” You whisper.

Joel chuckles and turns his head to look at you. “I realized… I am. I wanna fuck th’shit out of your tight, young, lil virgin pussy… so god damn bad. I get so fuckin’ hard thinkin’ ‘bout it.” Joel growls the words to you quietly. “I think ‘bout watchin’ my hard cock slidin’ into yer’ lil hole fer’ the first time n’ I could fuckin’ bust right there.” His mouth is so tight when he speaks, like he's trying to hold the words back from slipping between his lips.

He's quickly closing the distance between you two on the couch, and it makes your heart race, and his words make your pussy clench around nothing.

“Oh.” 

You’re so wildly turned on by his words, he's barely said them and you're already dripping. Your stomach is fluttering so much you feel like you might actually be sick this time. There is pressure and also a weird weakness in your chest simultaneously, like it might cave in on itself. 

“That’s all ya want from me?” You murmur, staring at him as he inches himself closer to you. He shakes from side to side silently. “What else do you want then?” You close your eyes because he is so close, you know he’s going to kiss you and you know where. Under your right eye.

“All of you.” Joel breaths against your eyelid and it makes you shiver. “Everything. Whatever ya wanna fuckin’ give me. I don’ care. I’ll take it, n’ be your pervy old man.” Joel speaks quietly and softly and moves down your cheeks as he speaks until he’s to your lips. “I’ll take whatever y’give me. I want it.” Joel whisper against your lips before he kisses you. 

You lean back and let him climb between your legs and rest some of his weight on top of you. He doesn’t grind himself down into you like you so desperately want him to, he lays his hips gently onto yours and rests there as he kisses you deeply. One of his hands finds the side of your face and he cups, then slides up, carding his fingers through your hair as he tries to deepen the already intense kiss.

It’s so deep it feels like he’s trying to lick your throat, but… you’re right there trying to lick his– trying to crawl into each other's mouths. 

He moans quietly as your hands find his hair and hold him to you as your mouths do the opening and closing-thing, the desperate-thing. Wet kissing sounds, and both of your breathless, panting moans fill the room. 

“I need you.” You whisper, pulling his head away from you by his hair. He chuckles and tries to kiss you again but you don’t let him. 

“No.” He growls, and there is another attempt to kiss you, more forceful this time, but you grip his hair tightly and yank his head back, he groans when you do it but doesn’t stop grinning down at you or panting.

“Why not? Why are you dragging it out?” You’re almost angry about it but…how can you stay mad at him? He’s grinning down at you all stupid, with his chocolate brown eyes and his body is just so big on top of yours. So warm. He smells so fucking good. 

“Yer’ special, so it's gotta be special.” He pants and makes an attempt to pull free from your grasp in his hair but you don’t let go and he rolls his eyes and groans in frustration but it’s short lived when he looks back down at you. 

“I don’t want it to be a big thing?” You whisper, reminding him of why you hadn’t lost it yet. 

“Shhhh. You want it sooo fuckin’ bad. Right?” Joel speaks like he knows exactly what he’s talking about.

You nod.

“S’let me keep doin’ all this– all these fun n’ sexy things that make ya feel soooo good– they make ya feel good, right?” He questions you again and pauses with his eyebrows raised.

You nod again.

“Okay. Ya' were sooo nervous with e'ryone else 'cause ya weren't comfortable, right?"Joel is still talking like he is so smart and has all the answers.

You shrug your shoulders and nod. begrudgingly.

“M'gettin’ ya' there…” Joel nods his head. “Doin’ all this fun stuff…makin’ ya more n’ more comfortable— confident n’ how to use that sexy fuckin’ body ya got- I- need'ya a lil more comfortable ‘fore we go n’ take the plunge. ‘Kay? Sexy fuckin’ lil girl with the tightest fuckin’ pussy, that work fer’ you?”

You nod silently.

“‘Kay. Shut up n’ kiss me a lil ‘fore we smoke n’ relax a. You gotta work today?” He questions you.

You shake your head no.

“‘Kay. You still like me?” He gives you a crooked half smile.

You nod.

“‘Kay. So stop worryin’. Daddy’s gon’ take reeeeal good fuckin’ care of you.” He snaps his head forward slightly, in the process pulling his hair free from your grasp. “Ha!” Joel laughs in your face once and brings his lips to yours again and opens your mouth for you with his tongue, and it turns into who can kiss the wettest very quickly. 

When he finally pulls himself away, you're both panting as he rests his forehead against yours. Then he exhales loudly and quickly, then kisses you once more before he climbs off of you and goes back to the coffee table with weed and smoking paraphernalia on it.

You stare at him. 

Is he your boyfriend now? 

You replay the last ten minutes in your head and everything he said. It sounded…like he wanted to be your boyfriend. Kinda. Kinda sounds like he just wants to fuck you? You dunno. You’re too fucking scared to ask and look stupid. 

“What?” He asks when he feels you staring at him while he gets ready to smoke. 

“Nothing.” You snap and turn to face the TV. You put on the only thing you watch and Joel says…nothing. For a long time. You start from the first episode. He doesn’t talk for three and a half episodes of Jersey Shore before he turns to you. 

“What’re they doin’?” Joel asks with his eyes still partially looking at the TV. “What’s th’point of this show?” You snort and shake your head slowly. 

“There isn’t one. That’s why it’s amazing.” You turn back to the screen and enjoy your comfort show. So simple. So easy. Brain rotting. 

“Jus’...gettin’ drunk?” He doesn’t understand. 

“Yeah… they were doing a lot of coke too, but they didn't show all that.” You laugh and rub your feet along his thighs. He rubs your shins as you do that and cannot take his eyes off the TV. 

“That makes sense…” Joel trails off and goes quiet again. You flick your eyes to him intermediately to see if he’s enjoying himself. Never once does he look like he is. His nose is always wrinkled or his eyes are wide. Or he has no emotion about it at all but it’s been on for hours. Joel never complains. Once your headache is gone and now you are pandered by hunger…you turn the TV off and Joel’s head snaps to you. “What?” He wanted to keep watching, apparently. 

“I need food.” You groan and can’t fathom standing. 

“Wanna go somewhere? I can order us somethin’? I can…”

“Don’t say cook because I have no groceries.” 

“Do– do you wanna go get some?” Joel asks like you’ve been holding off on running errands to hang out with him. 

“No?” You’re so confused. 

“You don’t… need food here?” He has his brows pinched together like he doesn’t understand you. He doesn’t. Clearly. He has food in his fridge. 

“Uh… not really? I don’t cook for just myself. It all goes to waste. I eat out a lot. Order food…” You feel silly when you say it but it’s the truth. Go through all the bullshit of cooking a really good meal to sit alone and the leftovers never get touched? No. You don’t… not cook. Just…not all the time. Gotta have a craving for something from back home for you to want to cook. 

“Oh. Okay…” 

“Do you cook dinner every night? We ordered out when I stayed there..” You feel judged. 

“I cook more than I order out…” Joel might be judging you. 

“Well if you stick around maybe I’ll cook more!” You say it in annoyance of his judging eyes but then he smiles and snorts softly. 

“I ain’t goin’ nowhere. Gotta go to Mexico in six months but… I’m comin’ right back.” Joel smirks and wraps his hand around your ankle softly. 

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do without you … probably order food.” You stick your tongue out at him and he grips your ankle tighter. 

“Alright.” Joel sits up and pushes your feet off his knees gently. “Yer’ toooo fuckin’ comfortable ‘round me n' the way you talk to me?” Joel is slightly smirking when he says it but…he sounds kinda serious. “Gon’ teach you a lesson, lil girl. C’mere.” he sits up on the couch, pushes the coffee table away from his legs with his foot and pats his legs. You stand up and go to sit down but he stops you. “Oh no. Lay over top of ‘em.” He grins now. 

“What!” You take a step away from him but he has his hand on your wrist before you get too far. 

“Shut yer' fuckin' mouth n' get over here. Y’heard me. Y’wanna get spanked? Alright. Let’s go.” He nods to you over to him, pulling on your hand lightly. 

“When did I say I wanted to get spanked!?” You exclaim. This is exciting, sexy and also fucking terrifying. He was being so, so sweet a couple minutes ago and now he wants to spank you!

“I’m just gon’use my hand, baby… nothin’ crazy. No flogger, no whips.” He explains. He’s speaking like he’s trying to calm a rabid animal. Firm, but nice. 

“What the fuck is a flogger??!” You are now more terrified and a little less turned on but then you realize he said no. None of that. Just his hands… maybe. You still fight him a little. 

“That toy from that special video…” He teases and flicks his eyebrows up once. “Just using my hands today…” Joel looks so excited. 

“Your hands are so big and so strong!!” You are inching towards him though with shuffling feet. 

“I know, baby girl. It'll be okay,” Joel tugs on your hand and pulls you over his lap.

You’re staring at the black faux fur rug and wondering how you got here. You pray to Satan that you enjoy this and it’s not scary and doesn’t hurt too bad. Shit. Okay. You shiver as Joel lifts your sundress over your ass and halfway up your back. Then he shifts a bunch and leans over you partially.

“Now… I’m gon’ buy ya new ones… later today— I promise.” Joel explains but you’re confused about what he means until you hear the fabric ripping.

What is it with him and ruining your things???? He's tearing the underwear right off of you.

He doesn’t even take them all the way off– just rips them in the back right down the middle so he can have access to your bare ass. 

“Okay.” It comes out of your mouth as a whimper and you are trembling as he rubs his rough palm and pads of his fingers across both cheeks very gently. So slowly. You get goosebumps. Immediately. 

“Awwwhh. You kinda scared, lil baby?” Joel chuckles like this is so much fun for him. Scaring and teasing you. Making your heart race. It's good. So fucking good.

“Lil bit.” You mewl up to him. He laughs. Deeply. 

“Don’t be. It’s only gon’ hurt for a lil while…then Daddy makes everything better. S’how this works baby, ok?” He is being so patronizing the way he speaks-it’s fucking so hot for some reason. 

“Alright–”

And then your naked ass is greeted by his palm for the first time with real force behind it. It doesn’t knock the air out of you, not even a little, but it does sting, and it does make you hiss with clenched teeth. Then Joel's hand moves across your ass so softly, so lovingly. 

“Yer’ a good girl— you will be. Imma make you a fuckin' good girl.” Joel chuckles again softly as his hand rubs the sting out of your ass fat. It still burns a little but it’s nothing bad. You don’t hate it. “Now…do’ya know what good girls do?” So condescending. It drips out of his mouth as he talks to you. 

“What?” You purr to the floor as his fingers inch their way towards your slit. He brushes the tips of his fingers against your pussy and then leaves and goes back to rubbing your ass cheek. 

"They want more. Y’want more, Birdie-girl?”He purrs back down to you deeply, rumbling in his throat when he speaks. You nod silently. “Use that pretty fuckin’ voice you got then.” He snaps at you and grips one of your globes in his hands and jiggles it slowly. He groans happily at the sight of your body moving under his hand. 

“I want more.” You whine happily as his touch. 

“Jeesus. Okay. Listen t’me. Ya listenin'?" He confirms like you are not bent over his knees.

"Yes." 

"Good. Now shut th'fuck up n you listen good. You say: Can I have another–. N’ then you call me whatever you want. I don’ care…but you address me, ask for it, tell me whatcha want… n’ then say please..” Joel explains with a hint of annoyance in his tone and you roll your eyes. 

“Fine. Okay. Here, you ready?” You ask him, also sounding slightly annoyed. You don’t let him respond. “Can I please, please have one more, Old Man? I need it so bad. I want you to spank me… Daddy.” You lather it on for him and roll your eyes once again when you finish. Joel doesn’t say anything. His hand stays moving on your ass still. He just snickers to himself quietly. 

“You forget where the fuck yer’ layin’, y'fuckin brat?" He barks after a second. It's snapped out his mouth at you, and makes you jump. 

Your pussy is dripping. Why?? "Huh? 

"You forget what we’re fuckin' doin’? Who the fuck yer' talkin' to?” Now he is whispering, but it’s coming out of him growled and angry sounding. “Now…yer’ gon’ get a real one. That first one? Nothin’.” Joel sounds so upset--but, you think he likes this?

You dunno, not really.

Regardless, your heart is pounding, and now you’re fucking terrified. Youare so, so regretful. Why are you always being a sarcastic bitch all the time?! Shit. Shit. Fuck. He is still rubbing your ass cheek gently. 

“M'sorry, Daddy.” You whimper even though you mean to say it real strong, real powerful because you want him to know that you are really sorry.

But he chuckles at you and pinches your ass gently and his hand disappears.

Oh noo. This is gonna be so bad and you’re gonna hate it. Shit.

Then he’s going to hate you. 

“Awhhh, don’t be sorry, baby. I’m not mad.” He sounds nice again.

Like he isn’t gonna spank you again. Phew.

“I’m gon’ take you out today, shoppin’. Getchya some food. Coffee if yer’ cute lil ass wants one. If ya’ take this real good might even have a surprise for ya…” He doesn’t spank you but he’s waiting for something. You don’t know what to say. “I’ll do all that whichya anyway… but… I’d like t’spank ya real good first. Teach ya a lesson… if you’ll let me? Y'need it.” Joel is waiting for your consent. 

“And you won’t be mad if I said no?” You question him.

Joel gently– so very carefully and softly– presses his hand against your ass as he speaks comfortingly. “Never. I mean it. I like this, but y’don’t gotta. Doesn’t matter t’me. We can still go have fun n’ all do all that fun stuff anyway…” His voice is deep and even, calming and he means it. You can tell.

“Can I please have one more, Daddy, please? I’d really like you to spank me.” You are so nice. So nice and such a good girl about it-- genuinely.

He is happy with you! So happy!! He taps your ass twice gently and chuckles. “Yer’ fuckin’ great.” He chuckles a little harder and takes his place sitting straight up. “Now… it’s gon’ hurt baby. I’m sorry.” He warns you and now you’re fucking scared again. “Soon as I do it…Imma rub the sting out… n’ do something else fer’ ya, okay? But.. yer' gon' learn a lesson.” He gets your consent once more. 

“Okay.” You fuckin’ give it to him even though you are terrified because, guess what? You’re drenched. Dripping down your thighs. Soaked. You’re aching in a way you never knew your pussy could ache. It feels like your lips are on fire and they feel swollen and puffy. You wonder if he can see you looking like a desperate mess for him. Yearning for him so badly. 

Joel rubs your ass once more and then the warmth from him is gone. You wait and wonder what he’s going to say to you know to increase the anticipation but, those thoughts are all gone from your head when you hear a sharp crack from behind you and those thoughts are replaced with just blinding pain. Searing hot and focused all in the shape of Joel Miller's hand-print on your right butt cheek. Shit. That fuckin’ huuuurts . Tears come to your eyes before you really even feel the pain. The sound his hand made on you was so loud it scared the tears right into your eyes before the pain had anything to really grip onto. 

It’s gripping. Ooooh boy is it gripping. Joel’s hand rubs over the spot he just smacked and it…just keeps hurting. He is cooing to you though and the nice, and sexy things he says kinda make you feel a little better. And what he’s doing with his other hand makes you almost forget about the pain immediately. He pushes three fingers into you. Definitely more than you’ve had before. You’ve never felt so stretched and full. You can’t hold back your gasps and whimpers as he twists his fingers around inside you. 

“Yeahhh lil girl. Did so good. Didn’t even make a sound.” Joel praises you over and over. “So fuckn’ good. You did so good. I’m so fuckin’ impressed. Fuckin’ perfect.” He sounds genuine and also very excited. “You like all these fingers inside you?” Joel whispers. “Don’t forget.. I wanna hear you, lil girl.” He pushes his extremities deeper into you and continues to twist them in both directions. Stretching you.   

“Yesss...” You hiss loudly between clenched teeth. You shut your eyes as his fingers work in and out of your channel quickly. You gasp and moan softly at him inside you. His fingers are still thrusting, but also twisting inside you slowly as he pumps in and out of you. He fingers you gently for a moment, getting you used to the size and thickness of his extra finger. Once he feels less resistance and hears your whimpers turning to moan is when he starts to really thrust— pummel you with almost his whole hand it feels like.. “Oh god. Oohh fuuuck.” You groan and grip his shin and drop the other hand to the floor. “Oohhhh fuuuck, Daddy.” You moan loudly. Joel never stops, his fingers move so fast and he’s angling them down just a little to rub the pads of his fingers over your spot each time. 

“Who’s yer’ Daddy?” Joel growls down to you, the hand on your lower back sliding down to your left ass cheek to pull it apart. He spits directly onto your asshole and one rough calloused tip massages his saliva against it gently. There is no pressure against your second hole at all, just a gentle rubbing. 

“You are, old man. ” You cry out as he brings you closer to rapture and good blinding white lights behind your eyes. You want it so bad. “Please please make me come. I wanna gush on you so bad.” You’re begging so hastily. “ Pleasepleasplease .” It’s strained coming out of you. 

“Whenever you want, lil girl. Let go n’ gush all over. Make a mess. I love t'see it.” He’s speaking so encouragingly. “Just say my name when you come… like a good girl.” His fingers are going to send you there, it’s happening and he’s chuckling before you even do it. Your walls are clenching him– trying to keep him inside of you on that perfect little spot. You need just a little more. You clench your eyes now because you can– he can’t see you. 

You explode. The most powerful gush yet, maybe. You cannot say his name. You cannot even think of anything besides how to breathe. You’re also attempting to crawl off his lap like this isn’t the most incredible feeling you’ve ever experienced. Mind shattering. No white lights. It’s just silent in your head for thirty seconds and you are crying. Sobbing on his lap and you hope that everyone experiences bliss like that in their lives. 

Joel eases his fingers out of you and whistles. 

“You okay there?” He asks your sobbing, crumpled form on his lap. “It hurt? S’why yer’ cryin’?” He’s so nervous. This man probably feels like he is walking through a minefield when he is with you.

“N-N-No. It’s s-s-s-sooo good.” You stutter and then with much grace and much agility, you stand off his lap and stare at him. 

"Ohhhh lil crybaby likes getting finger fucked by Daddy? So good, it makes her cry?" He croons to you, chuckling. "I like makin' you cry like that. Gon don' do it more often." 

“You’ll do that every t-time you s-spank me?” You hold a pinky finger out to him like a literal child and he chuckles and hooks his pinky with yours. 

“Every time, lil girl. Let’s go get you a surprise.”

If Joel is going to do this kind of stuff with you when he’s done spanking you… you’ll let him do way worse. Soooo much worse. He gets you an overpriced iced coffee and doesn’t even bitch about it. You are bitching about how bad your ass hurts in the passenger seat though. So that’s probably why he doesn’t say anything. Then he takes you to the mall. A place you haven’t been in so long because you don’t really need to stop. You loved shopping in Jersey but… it doesn’t feel the same down here. Spending money doesn’t make you happy the way it used to. 

Watching Joel happily and willingly spend his money on you is making you happy though, and you never cared about this shit before. Honestly, none of the guys you ever talked to before could do this… just… treat you? All the time? You didn’t even really want him to spend his money on you. His time and him holding your hand around the mall was literally more than enough. So much more. 

“I like these.” Joel speaks very quietly and it almost doesn’t look like he’s talking at all.

“Do you even want to be in here? You can go look at whatever guys look at in the mall while I buy this stuff.” You whisper back to him, because you’re not trying to embarrass him in Victoria’s Secret. He does not look like he wants to be in here though. He actually looks like he might be blushing a little as he eyes people walking by— they’re not even paying attention to him. No one is looking at either of you. 

“I like bein’ involved.” Joel snaps softly and innocently. He is embarrassed though. 

“Did you never come in here with your ex or buy stuff for her?” You question back in a whisper. 

“No. I ain’t have money to do all this back then. Hell no. She didn’t fuckin’ deserve all this anyway.” He whispers directly into your ear so no one will hear that. 

“Okay!” You whisper. “Which ones did you like?” You look down and he has his finger already pointed at a black lace pair. “Is that your favorite color?” You ask softly and look up at him. He’s shaking his head no and then nods down back to the table of sexy underwear. Now he’s pointing to a cheeky cotton pair that are very plain but they're hunter green.

“That.” He says sharply but again, innocently. He’s on edge, poor old man. You grab both pairs he pointed out and go to walk away but he snatches you by the elbow and pulls you back. “Get more.” He urges and points to another pair. Hot pink. So pink and so bright. “Those.” He whispers again, directly into your ear. And then he’s pointing to all different colors and styles. You get six more pairs and then he’s pulling you further into the store…the sexy side of the store.

“You involved in the process for this too or this all me?” You smirk up at him and his fingers pinch at your side softly. 

“You liked that lil blue thang or…you want somethin’ else” Joel is still whispering but his eyebrows are raised curiously. 

“Well…it’s more for you—”

“Oh naw it isn’t… I want you t’feel pretty n’ sexy. Whatchya like? What makes y’feel sexy, lil girl?” His voice and breath in your ear makes you shiver. That lil sexy blue thang did make you feel sexy. It did. You grab something that is similar in black. The only other color they have is white and you… dunno. Don’t like it. 

“Okay.” You smile up at him very happily and hold all your things in your hand. Joel looks around briefly and points with just his finger– his hand is still down by his side when he points. 

“That one.” He whispers and you follow his gaze and then his fingers and he’s pointing to a white babydoll style corset top with a flowy tulle skirt– also white and very see through. It comes with a matching thong. Not something you would pick out…but he seems to like it so, you grab one and are done spending his money now. 

You think.

Joel is driving towards your house but then he turns left when he should turn right. You furrow your brows when he does that but he smirks like he know what he’s doing and where he is going. 

“What’re you up to?” You give him genuine confusion because he’s been so quiet since you left the mall. You kinda have too. You have an excuse though. You’re hungover and also, buttcheek. It still hurts. You might have to ice it. 

“Don’ worry ‘bout it.” Joel shakes his head at you, but he does offer you his big, perfect hand to hold. You accept it happily and just shut up. Happy to be here. Along for whatever he’s gotta do today. You have a little headache, but…it’ll be fine. You’ll nap when you get home.

“Whaddya gotta get here?” You ask nosily. What new electronic could he need. He had a giant fucking TV and a nice sound system at his house. A nice TV in his room too. He lifts his ass a little and reaches into his back pocket. Joel pulls out his wallet, opens it up and hands you his card. 

“Nothin’...but you do.” He narrows his eyes on yours and smirks. You pinch your brows together in confusion. 

“Huh? I dunno what you want in there. I’m not getting the wrong thing just for you to have to go in there with me, return what I got, and then pick out the right one. Come in.’ You hand his card back him but he doesn’t take it. 

“I’m gonna roll us a lil somethin’. I don’t need nothin’. Go get yer’self somethin’. You deserve it. I was an asshole.” He sighs loudly. “Should’a called you that night n’ told you how I was feelin’. N’ I didn’t. I wasn’t gonna call you again…” Joel admits quietly. “Then I saw ya at the store.. N’... I dunno…” He trails off and looks like he has more to say. But he just sucks his teeth and then nods his head towards the store. “Go get yer’ lil computer.” Joel leans in over the console and waits for you to lean in as well. 

“You sure?” You blink at him and he nods. 

“I am.” He is still waiting for you to kiss him. You lean forward and he tangles his fingers in your hair on either side of your head and holds you and inch away. Your eyes scan trace along each others faces for second before he speaks. “Claimin’ you right now. Don’t give yer’ number out ‘cause yer’ nervous that I don’t like ya. I do. Shut up. Go get yer’ computer… n’ then lets go relax a lil. You can give me a lil fashion show…then I wanna do somethin’ else witchya.” Joel grins. “Go.” 

You go to grab your purse because… you’re not going to use his card. You have money. More money now that he paid for you window to the truck. You’re not going to tell him that you’re going to pay. It’ll be a lil trick and then he can do nothing about it. Ha. You’ll already have the computer. And he will have his card back.

You open the door and Joel whistles sharply at you. Not a sexy whistle. An attention grabbing whistle. You snap your head to him and he has his hand out. You look down at it and then back up at him. 

“What?” You blink at him and his open, empty hand. 

“Wallet– leave the whole purse— you can take yer’ ID but, leave everything else.” Joel is smirking at you now. “I’m not that big n’ dumb.” 

“You don’t need to buy me a computer. You paid for my window. That’s enough.” You put his card back in his hand and he rolls his eyes and opens his door. 

“Let’s go. Makin’ it fuckin' difficult. Must wanna ‘nother fuckin' spankin’ on the other side when we get home.” Joel mumbles to himself but he doesn’t sound mad or anything. He’s teasing you. You’re learnin’ him. Figurin’ his scowling ass out. Kinda nice, actually. 

You are floating into the electronics store. Absolutely floating. He likes you? Claiming you? No one’s ever…claimed you before and it’s hot. So hot. Why is Joel so hot? It’s not fair. It really isn’t. Now he wants to buy you a new computer. He is holding your freaking hand again in public with so many people around. 

“Get whatever you want. I don’t care.” Joel mocks annoyance as you look for a computer but he squeezes your hand when he does it. You get the same one you had. It was perfect and you loved it and don’t need a different one. 

As soon as you get in the car and put your computer in the backseat you’re crawling into his lap over the console and straddling him. Kissing him, smothering him because he is perfect. Joel runs his hands along your back and ass and squeezes you. Deep kissing, such deep desperate kisses that flick and tease every inch of your mouth. They make you dizzy. 

Joel is the one to pull away but it’s so he can tilt your head to the side with his gentleness and kiss along your jaw and under your chin and down your neck. 

“Thank you.” You pant as he kisses down into your exposed cleavage as far as he can until your shirt and breasts won't let him. He groans in frustration and his hands leave your ass and he uses one to grab at the neckline of your shirt. He glances around in every direction and there’s no one around. A lot of cars but no bodies… yet. His fingers worm their way into your bra and then he pulls down and exposes you to him and anyone else in the parking lot who could possibly come out of a store and see this monstrosity. 

Neither of you care as he wraps his mouth around your hardening bud and nibbles down on it gently and looks up at you as you stare down at him. His tongue flicks at it between his teeth until he makes you moan– then he smirks and sucks it into his mouth as it ungulates the flat of his tongue along it slowly while applying suction. He makes you moan again. He does that until your hips start to move on his– your back accidentally presses into the horn on the steering wheel and honks loudly until you pull away. You both jump and then he pulls away from you with a loud, wet sucking sound. 

“Get offa me you horny Bird. Jeesus.” He lets your shirt go and is pushing you off his body and into your own seat. “Gonna get us arrested. Public indecency.” He’s smirking when he says it and also adjusting his jeans near his groin because he’s a lil tight down there now.

Back at the house Joel is sitting in just his boxers on the bed, smoking– which…sonofabitch it shouldn’t be hot, but it kind of is… A lot. A lot hot. Shit. You’re in the bathroom with all your new sexy panties but you’re not trying them on. No. You’re in that sexy black lace getup with a pair of black thigh highs that came with it and that fucking belt. This one took so long to get hooked into the god forsaken stockings. You’re fine now though– all hooked and strapped and tied in. He better not fucking rip this thing. 

You take a deep breath and open the door. Joel is waiting for you and he likes what he sees. He was already teasing himself through his boxers when you went into the bathroom and now as you’re walking out, Joel holds the joint between his lips so he can free himself from his boxers and wrap his fist around it. 

“Spin.” It’s a soft spoken demand while his fist tugs at his hardening length. You spin slowly with your hands held out at your waist. He rumbles in his throat as you do. “Now…face the other way n’ bed over.” You’re smirking stupidly as he pulls his fist away from his hand to noisily spit into his hand and then he palms it over the head of his cock before he starts to stroke himself. You’re watching with your mouth hanging open like an idiot. “You like when I do this, huh?” He strokes himself more dramatically as you watch and nod your head. “I’ll give ya a show. Turn around, lil girl. Lemme see that ass.” He sighs softly as he squeezes at the base and slowly moves his fist upwards. 

You wanna look at it. You don’t wanna turn around. But you are and you're bending at the waist with your legs together so he can see you through the lace. Joel hums happily and then, for some reason you spread your legs slightly and snake your hand up your middle from between your legs over the lace, and trace the outline of your cunt for him. He inhales sharply. 

“Get over here.” Joel growls at you and you skip to the bed and crawl in next to him but he holds his hand up to stop you. “Listen– you ready?” He smirks at you. “Lay with your head down there…” He points to the end of the bed near the corner. “N’ then put one leg here.” He points to his legs. “N’ the other right here.” Now he taps your shoulder. “I know that was a lot n’ yer’ all distracted.” He smirks as your eyes flash quickly between his talking face and him jerking his hard cock slowly– pacing himself. 

The position he wants you in leaves your lace covered pussy completely exposed to him but he’s not putting anything inside you. Joel just wants to touch your pussy through the lace. Right over the outside of it is gentle and sometimes his hand will rub your inner thigh. You’re up on your elbows watching him worship you. And he loves to talk. Loves to speak and make you hear him. He wants you to speak back to him when he prompts you. He's teaching you...

“Yer’ gonna ride this hard cock soon, you excited?” He growls as he rubs the pads of his fingers along the lace. You can feel the heat of him through the delicate, barely-there fabric. 

“Yes, Daddy.” You bat your eyelashes at him and nod. He grunts soft and pushes his hips up into his fist. 

“Can’t wait to feel how fuckin’ tight you are, baby. Fuck.” Joel’s eyes flick between yours and what his hand is doing to your hidden cunt lips. “Yer’ gonna be s’fuckin’ tight.” You don’t know why he sounds angry…it doesn’t bother you anymore. It’s just…Joel. And that’s fine. He’s not angry at you. You know this now, so, you don’t care. 

“I can’t wait to feel you inside me– feel your big cock stretching me.” You purr to him and he moans softly. 

“Don’t I fuckin’ know it.” Joel holds up his fingers and they’re glistening. “Yer’ fuckin’ leakin’ like a slutty lil thing...but you ain't.” He chuckles and pushes his fingers back against your pussy. “S’fuckin’ hot. Put my hard cock in you while you wear this. Gonna make this my pussy soon. Claim it.” Joel says it like he’s thinking about doing it but he stays still and his hand just moves on him faster. “Say yer’ a good girl.” Joel whispers to you. 

“I’m a good girl, old man. You don’t think I am?” You pout at him and run two of your fingers over one of your nipples through the cup of the lace bra. “I’m a very good girl.” You bite your bottom lip now and try to hide a smirk as his body jerks softly to this statement and his hand pumps up and down on him with more meaning and now his hips are moving slightly as he touches himself listening to your voice. 

“Y’like t’be bad though, right?” Joel pushes down on your clit gently and smirks. You nod and sigh softly. 

“I love bein’ bad with you, Mr. Miller.” You coo to him. “Love when you touch me n’ make me say naughty things.” You whisper it now and Joel is watching your mouth move, rubbing his fingers gently against your bundle over the lace. He wants to come, maybe needs to. He’s doing everything to himself and you just get to watch? “I love looking at your hard cock.” You mewl to him and his stomach clenches softly. 

“Don’t stop. K-Keep talkin’.” He stammers over his pleasure and it’s immaculate watching his strong arms flex as he strokes himself vigorously. "How bad, baby?" His body is twitching and clenching uncontrollably and now his hand grips at the meat on your inner thigh in not the most flattering way, but he loves it. “S–so fuckin’ soft.” 

“You like my soft skin, Daddy?” You purr and put one hand over your pussy and mimic what he had been doing, rubbing just around the outside. “You excited to come in my soft, tight pussy, old man?” You grin as he groans while you speak. Then Joel paints his chest and stomach with ropes of white. He groans loudly and deeply through his orgasm, puffing air out of flared nostrils heavily as he milks his cock slowly, the almost purple tip of him disappears within his fist and he covers his palm and fingers in his release. He drags his fist back down the length, smearing it down his shaft as he continues to thrust through the release. 

“Fuck.” He spits it out and lets his head fall back against the pillows he set up for himself. “Holy fuck.” His eyes are closed and he’s breathing so heavily. 

“Does… okay… be honest with me.” You ask with all of your breath, because you didn’t just come. He is sitting there with his eyes closed, listening to fast talk with his own release on his hand, stomach and chest. “Does it feel better when you do that…or when I’m on top of you?” You stare at him awaiting a response. 

“Uh.. I dunno. Feels… uh…different.” Joel answers in between deep breathing. 

“Like a better different or a weird different?” You ask casually, tipping your head from one side to the other. 

“Not weird different. Not better either.” Joel shakes his head but his eyes are still closed. “Stronger.” Joel says after a minute. 

“When you do it.” You make a statement because it is not a question. He came… so hard when he did that to himself. He didn’t come that hard the two times you did what you do on him— the moving and grinding. 

“Uh.. yeah. Kinda.” Joel isn’t looking at you. “S’not a bad thing—”

“I didn’t say it was!” You exclaim. “I’d just rather see you come like that.” You nod your head even though he isn’t looking at you. “Fuckin’ hiding it in your boxers. Lemme see that shit.”

"Yer' gonna let me come inside you?" Joel flicks his eyebrows up. "Really make that pussy mine when I fuck you? Or jus' talkin'?" Joel asks with his eyes still closed. You don't respond. Not with words.

You sit up and take his hand in yours and drag your tongue along the back of his and and run it between his fingers. This makes him open his eyes. Now he’s smirking watching your tongue clean up every drop he spilled. Off his soft stomach and his strong and broad chest. 

You’re going to do this. You’re right here and it's going to happen. Okay. 

You lean forward and Joel is waiting. He’s right there, leaning in to kiss you. Once your lips touch, he opens his mouth and parts your lips with his. It’s messy and starts to drip down out of the corners of your mouth as he swirls his tongue around with yours. His release and your saliva mixture coating each other's tongues. You feel it dripping down your chin and your neck as he deepens the kiss and you pass what you had just licked off of him…back to him. He is huffing through his nose heavily while you do this.

It is really fucking hot and messy. Sticky. Without breaking the kiss, Joel moves to hover over you, laying you back down on the bed and now with gravity on his side, he transfers it all back to you. He pulls away and looks down at you, his lips are shiny and wet-- sticky.

“Swallow it.” He stares down at you as he licks his bottom lip. You do and watch as leans into you and now with your empty mouth you can kiss and lick and suck any access off of him. “Good fuckin’ girl. Perfect.”

THIS IS MY WARNING TO ALL OF YOU INVESTED RIGHT NOW: I WRITE MEN GOOD, I DON'T ALWAYS WRITE GOOD MEN, OKAY?

That being said, Joel isn't really a bad guy-- just doesn't fuckin' know. Okay? Is he a little toxic? Sure. Is that not great? SURE.

Do I love it!? HELL YES.

tag list: @immyowndefender @korikolove @untamedheart81 @fanficlover1414, @creepycorbeaux @ohmillerbaby @rosebuds-and-moonlight @harriedandharassed (you'll have to read the other chapters, but I'm tagging you anyway)

[coyotecrumb]

“I did miss you, you know.”

You turn your head, knee digging into your cheek. You're curled in on yourself like a pillbug. A snail in its shell. Your arms hug your legs, squeezing tight; if you use enough of your strength, you might just be able to hold yourself together.

“That so?” you murmur.

Suguru lowers his knees to the floor. He sits in seiza, hands resting neatly on his thighs, back straight.

This is a familiar sight. Velvet curtains draw back in your memory, revealing a hazy image: Yaga, scowling, with the four of you sitting before him just as Suguru sits now. Satoru, Suguru, Shoko. And you. You, kneeling on the hardwood, trying as hard as you can to stifle the laughter bubbling up in your throat.

In this scene, you're younger. Softer. So too are your classmates. The boys are still boys, sneaking out at night and breaking rules just for the sake of breaking them; Shoko hasn't yet retreated so far into herself.

You were happy back then, you think. When you look back on those memories, the world beyond the windows is green. Always green.

You watch Suguru watch you. You should take it as a sign of affection, maybe, that he is lowering himself to your level. Lingering attachment, as he claims. It stretches between the two of you, clings like cobwebs.

But even like this, he looms. Amanai Riko's death cleaved through Suguru's mind with neat precision; your mother used to cut apples that way, halving each fruit with a crisp crack, her weathered hands sure and strong. Death took a knife to Suguru's head, and now some impenetrable darkness shrouds him, reaches for you, too, voracious and unforgiving.

Between his gentle smile and the familiarity of his hands, there is always that shadow. Maybe you, too, are now split open to welcome it.

“You don't believe me?” His voice is kind. There's one thing that time hasn't changed. Suguru has always sounded so kind.

Through your cheek, you can feel the pressure where your teeth and your patella push towards each other. Bone on bone, separated by only a thin padding of flesh. You hum. “It doesn't change anything, either way.”

Suguru's gaze weighs heavy, but he speaks lightly. “No, I suppose it doesn't.”

You let out a long breath. You could echo his earlier words—I missed you—but you'd have to change it, wouldn't you? Missed, past tense. It makes it sound like you're at the end of the play's last act, like you've finally found what you're looking for. But you haven't, you really haven't.

I miss you. Words you can't quite urge out of yourself. I missed you. I will always miss you.

And still, that's not enough. Language doesn't encompass it—how deeply his defection scarred your life. How the people he left behind have become islands, each of you separated by endless stretches of deep sea, too deep and unfathomable to cross. How Shoko's begun sleeping in the morgue. How Satoru smiles now, is always wearing that awful smile, and he learned that from Suguru, you know he did.

You went away, you imagine saying, but you left your worst habits behind.

But what would your words even do? You'd just be trying to appeal to a ghost.

Silence thickens in the air between the two of you like morning fog. Suguru's words are slow to muddle through it, reaching you on a time delay as if coming from a great distance. “Satoru will be looking for you.”

Concern for Satoru. Coming from him, of all people? “Hah!” Your laugh comes out wild and strained—crowlike.

Ridiculous. This is ridiculous. You bring your hands to your face. Dig the heels of your palms into your eyelids till you see sparks. Bitterly, you say, “I'm sure he is.”

Yes, Satoru will be looking. He carries the Six Eyes, was born to see all: he will see the residuals of your technique littered about the estate, just as he will see the ocean-deep crimson of the gore you left behind splattered up the walls.

Looking for you, though? Words rise up in your chest: He didn't even chase after you, Suguru. Not even you.

You swallow the poison down before it even gets a chance to escape your lips. Even now, with all this blood on your hands, the prospect of being cruel to Suguru makes you feel sick.

He says your name with the tenderness of an outstretched hand. “Why did you come here?”

Why?

Your family's hyoid bones broke like dry kindling, splinters shooting out through the skin. The older someone was the more you twisted their spines, setting their nerves on fire, keeping them alive as long as you could. That wasn't necessary, but you did it. You loved it.

You would do it all again. And again. And again—however many times it would take to erase those withered old men from the earth—however many times it would take to ensure that no child will ever be born bearing your clan's name again. You would take their brains apart with an honest smile every time.

And it's funny—in the end, despite everything, you're a Kamo through and through. Blood is your mother tongue.

“You know… I was standing there, after I was done, and I realized—I didn't feel sorry for any of it. I don't.” You drop your hands from your face, tilt your head with a smile that pushes into your eyes. “And I thought maybe I understood what you were saying, back then. About meaning.”

Suguru sits still as stone for one heartbeat, then two—as if your words are taking time to sink in. Movement comes first from his lips: the corners curling up slowly, slowly—the way petals unfurl without anyone realizing, closed one evening and open when the sun rises.

[hvrtbroken]

he hears the stutter in her tone , isn't surprised by the way she goes red and seems almost like she wants to refuse . his eyes watch her carefully , scanning her features , her bright eyes , flushed cheeks , dainty nose and hair that's slightly mussed up but not nearly enough ( not yet ) . her fingers pause in their movements and nico gently brushes his nose against her , silently telling her to keep going . HE DIDN'T TELL HER TO STOP . he likes watching her do this for him . he wants to learn every single way she does it . he doesn't think he'd ever get tired of seeing her messy , filled with his cum and coming undone . NEVER . finally , when she says the words , it's with an bashfull-ness that makes nico's smile turn slightly bigger , even brighter . " good job , baby . " he murmurs the words out , as dear and solid and real as ever . there's something within him that pulsates at the unsureness within star . everytime she looks at him , flustered , eyelashes fanned out , mouth ajar . . . it makes him feel like he might go crazy . it makes him want to cover her mouth with his and lift her off her feet . she's seen so much yet not that much at all . when it comes to sex , he likes seeing what she knows , what she doesn't . how eagerly she'll try anything . how she'll have her own ideas and thoughts . NICO WANTS EVERY PART OF HER SO BADLY , he isn't sure where she begins and he ends anymore . he's always liked sex , but he's never felt this insatiable and desperate and hungry before . " you're incredible . " he repeats , before leaning back again . his hand falls from her knee to apply some pressure on his hardening cock . he can feel himself stirring up for her again , half-mast and wanting more . she always makes him get like this . he feels like he's in his 20s all over again , with impossibly high stamina and a determination to keep going .

when nico looks at her dainty fingers disappearing inside of her , squelching and wet , he wonders how the hell she manages him . his fingers are at least double the size of hers . he doesn't want to brag , but his cock is definitely bigger . and she takes it all . yet here she is , fingers and knuckles inside of herself and she's whimpering as if she's never taken more . THIS INNOCENCE . the unwavering trust . he drinks it down . " you use only two ? " he repeats , other hand on her thigh , thumb gently rubbing circles on her , every temptation within him trying not to knock her fingers away so he can go to work on her . " but you'd let me . . . " his mind shutters off , goes blissfully blank . four . or all of them . nico's breath exhales within him in a giant whoosh , uncontrolled , filling the room outside of his whimpers and ministrations . when he reopens his eyes , he knows his gaze is hungry , devouring her spread open wide for him , legs kicked out , cum dripping out of her , looking so filthy and beautiful all at once . " — so you've never tried three fingers on yourself before ? " it seems INCORRECT , but he loves that star saved this for him . let him get her this way . let HIM do things to her that she wouldn't even do to herself . and she does . . . she sinks in another finger , squirming , whimpering , but the fourth finger slides in and nico's teeth wear into his bottom lip , watching carefully as she does . the four fingers look snug . her opening looks filled , and he can't understand it . can't understand HER , although he wants to . " you're close , huh ? i can tell . i can see it . " he whispers it out , soothing and encouraged , wanting nothing more then for his own fingers to take place , to fill the gap she's left , to touch what's left untouched . he presses a few more kisses on her knees , using his head to keep her legs apart , as her hips jut up . " you're so good at following instructions , baby . " nico's voice is warm , impressed . his hand glides closer . closer . the temptation is too much . his eyes lift to hers , just as his thumb glides over her clit . not enough to add any pressure , but to provide the sensation , the fuzz , the VIBRATION and static of his thumb touching her . he moves it quickly , trying to keep himself as restrained as he can because this is her time and he's trying so hard to not be greedy with it .

his cock aches now , fully hard and expectant . hungry to fill her again , cum inside her again . he feels himself tremble as she rolls her eyes back , his thumb resuming encouraging circles on the inside of her thigh , pretending it's where he really wants his fingers to be . his other hand tightens on her knee , and he reminds himself to loosen up , not scar or bruise her with his grip . " star . . . " words leave him , breathless , as he watches the orgasm take over her entirely . her body pulsates . she seems to almost not be herself at all as she fucks herself onto her fingers , twisting , groaning , messy , voice strained as she shakes , back arching off the bed . HOLY FUCK . his eyes are wide , drinking her in , hands twitching to touch her , but instead continuing to graze her legs , gently hold her through the orgasm as it pulsates through her . her words are nonsensical . he doesn't care . as her body shakes with the aftershocks of it , nico climbs up the bed immediately and finds her mouth . he seals it over with his own , breathing hot and heavy , cock brushing up against her as he does . " you looked so fucking good . " he licks it into her mouth , his hand finally going between her legs and gently knocks two of her fingers out . they feel slippery and hot , trembling , but nico can't think straight . instead, he plunges two of his own fingers deep inside of her , right alongside her other two fingers . " i didn't stay stop yet . " he whispers, guttural and strained . his hips press against her body , cock taut and harder than before , desperate for friction . " help me get you to the second one , baby . "

star shivers when nico kisses the tender inside of her knee. once untouched, now a place that's been brushed against in an intimacy that would have made her cry if she wasn't fingering herself stupid right now. he seems to do this a lot, touch her in places she never thought to ask, placing intense emotions she'd never imagined she'd been able to experience. it intensifies when he keeps going along her skin, words egging her on more and more. but then he's asking her to say it back to him — that she's incredible — and even her fingers pause for a long second. she can call herself filthy things for him any day, does it willingly now, the action making her clench and writhe every time. but the prospect of calling herself a good thing, a genuine praise has her stunted. her eyes widen as she feels her cheeks flush from embarrassment, the words dancing on the tip of her tongue but unable to form properly. incredible. was she really? she never thought of herself that way, at least in any serious manner. "i'm–" she's almost tempted to refuse, to say she can't. the word is too hard, too heavy. carries implications beyond this little world they've built on her bed. but then star is reminded of the terseness from before. the firmness he showed her, what he's capable of, pulling away and only touching her if he's pleased. it terrifies her, alas, and she's always been terribly terribly obedient for him. "i'm incredible," she says, tone soft and unsure, but still loud enough for him to hear.

nico's smiling now, a full one, one that reaches his eyes; and it's a sight to behold. it's something anyone could recognize if they saw him instead of his usual small ones. but no one else is privy to this side of him and she's sick with satisfaction from the fact. her's, only her's. "two. two fingers," star answers, breathy and stunted. ( her index and middle finger usually being the one to help herself find release, though they don't ever compare to his now. ) nico's next question catches her off guard immediately, suddenly turning right around back on it. the truth is that she'd take any and all of him that he'd give her, would happily be stretched wide for him. as long as it's him. so after swallowing hard, she continues. "four . . . or- or all of them." she feels like she's losing her breath now, arm beginning to ache, her three fingers pushing and tucking into herself, brushing and pushing into that fleshy bit near her opening.

'and i'm all yours.' the comfort that statement brings her is indescribable. there's something to it, him reaffirming it, calling her 'my girl'. the ownership of it, the unstated devotion. how much it fills her with that overwhelming emotion again, pulling her away into some place as beautiful as it is scary. byeol pushes her hips up as he hoists her for him to see, to show him clearly what he's making her do. what she's eager to accomplish for him. she's his own private show. she adds the other finger in as per instruction, doing her best to focus on his words despite the way the added stretch is making her whimper. but star doesn't slow down. the way nico is watching her spurs something deep in her, makes her even wetter somehow. "okay," she replies to his instruction, unable to say anything else because she's stretching herself wide now, four digits in. fingers herself dutifully under his keen watch, dark bleary eyes glued to him, hips jerking and tight. hears the wet squelch of herself that's so comically loud, that she feels like it isn't even her making those noises right now. it feels like she's watching some exaggerated porn video, the volume turned up high. but no, it's all her. her fingers and soaked pussy, fucking into herself hard and fast, chasing the high that she can feel just past the corner.

"ni- nico. fuck. yes, i– i'mso– s'close." her words slur together, eyes shiny with tears, looking at him desperately. she'd been iron-hot when she continued at his instruction just now, kick-started by nico's furious fucking in the elevator earlier. star can't even recognize her own voice either right now; moans and keens ebbing and flowing, coming deep from her chest one moment and then going high and tight from the top of her scalp. "cum– cumming–" her eyes roll back, free hand grabbing her own wrist to help with the ache that builds in her forearm, helping herself twist in and out of herself furiously. and while it's nothing compared to his cock — the hot, solid velvet of it, the way it reaches parts of herself she struggles to feel for right now — she's hurtling straight down into release, pushed into the sweet spot at the thought that nico would be taking over the moment she does. "nico!" star comes, and she doesn't know where anything starts and stops anymore. the one thing she can comprehend is nico's touch, keeping her grounded to their bed. keeping her here, barely sane and yet still devastatingly ready for him.

[theprinceofliones]

Post canon 4kota AU where after Arthur is defeated and peace is OFFICIALLY restored, Tristan gets like five new siblings.

Something in both Meliodas and Elizabeth suddenly switches on after they realize their is no more battles to be fought or won and so they start procreating like rabbits, and suddenly, in the span of four years, Tristan gains five younger siblings. Two of which are a pair of twins, and then three more siblings back to back to back.

It's absolutely baffling because Tristan has been an only child his whole life and suddenly has five toddlers running around calling him 'ni-chan' and 'Tris-Tris'. Tristan can't really complain though, he loves his siblings with all of his heart, despite the fact that he's quite literally two decades older than all of them.

Astolat and Avarona are his eldest of younger siblings, the pair of twins that have been dubbed by the kingdom as "The Dragon Twins," referencing their father's days as 'The Dragon Sin of Wrath', as the two look just like him. Astolat is nearly an exact copy of Meliodas, if it wasn't for his blue eyes that he inherited from their mother. Avarona looks just Elizabeth but with longer hair and more of their father's features in her face, with the same green eyes that shone in his own. They were both quite mischievous, loved to pull pranks on unsuspecting souls throughout the castle, and got into all sorts of trouble. But, they inherited their mother's kind and gentle heart, and never went too far with their silly pranks.

Escanor is the second eldest of Tristan's younger siblings, named for the uncle Tristan never knew. The young boy popped out with hair curlier than both Meliodas and Elizabeth's combined, long and untamable, and colored the same shade as their mother's. He was the shyest, most timid thing ever to walk the earth, and clung to Tristan's skirts as soon as he was only enough to make a fist. Since Tristan looked a lot like their mother, he was the one Escanor clung too when he couldn't find Elizabeth, and whenever Escanor looked up at him with those bright green with blue swirled eyes, he found himself unable to ever refuse him.

Lyonesse was Tristan's third eldest younger sibling. She was named for the Capital of Liones, to honor it's name, and the people who lived within the castle walls. She is a kindhearted, confident, headstrong little lady who knows what she wants and will stop at nothing to get it. She loves to pretend boss around her elder siblings and is rather ambitious despite being so young. She has their father's bright blonde hair, although it's lighter by /several/ shades, almost white in the right light, and has blue eyes that match the sky, a different shade from their mother's turquoise. Her hair is long and straight, albeit a little wavy, and she has their father's wide, joyful grin that never seems to fade.

Valerin is the last of Tristan's siblings. He looks just like him, with curly silver hair that is just a tad more blonde than Tristan's, and mismatched eyes, although the green and blue are placed opposite of Tristan's own. He's a quiet, gentle boy...for about five minutes until you place toys, food, of their father in front of him. He is loud, unashamed, and a tad obnoxious, although that last bit can be partially ignored because he is only a mere babe, and has the most precious smile. Tristan knows that when he grows up, he's going to be one of the greatest knights Liones has ever seen.

He loves all of his new siblings, despite the fact that it was a big change he was still somewhat getting used. But, he wouldn't trade them for the world, and has come to love raising them alongside his parents, showing them the ways of the world and all of the amazing things to do in this life. Although, when they begin to unlock their powers, it's going to be all hands on deck; he just hopes Lancelot, Percival, and Gawain will be willing to help him out...

[corallapis]

[lxnarphase]

━ ❝ OH, IT'S MINIKUNA ! ❞

✮₊‧⁺...content: heian era!sukuna x wife!reader, fluff, mentions of childbirth, sukuna is an overly proud father, sukuna is whipped for his wife

✮₊‧⁺...lunar's note: based of this little blurbie and this one too !! needed some fluff with kuna bc he would love having a baby girl idc what anyone says !!! also i did my best describing the birthing process in a time accurate period but it's definitely a bit inaccurate because...i have never had a baby LOL

no one has ever seen sukuna ryomen, king of curses, wince before.

not until today, at the wrath of his pregnant wife who somehow got a hold of his fingers instead of his hand.

one of the nurses did warn him to not give you his finger and to ensure you always hold his hand. but by the gods, he swears you almost ripped his finger off.

it's cute to him, however, when you attempt to curse him out.

'gods, sukuna, i despise your entire being!'

'i know, my wife.'

'i should've never let you get me pregnant, you animal!'

'you begged for it, my wife.'

'i am never letting you bed me again, use your hand for the rest of your existence!'

'you can't keep your hands off me, my wife, no need to lie.'

but the sigh of relief, the way you instantly look down and coo once the sound of wailing filled the air...it makes him melt just a little bit.

he can't deny, seeing you in pain made him heated. it took everything in him not to kill every midwife, nurse, and lady-in-waiting in your birth room for not being able to make this process completely painless.

except chiyo. he would have to reward your personal physician for preparing you so well for this...

what did the old hag like again? wines, meats, gifts for her grandchildren back at home?

hm, yes, that would be great for her. of course, he'll say it was from you. the king of curses shows gratitude for no one.

he's pulled out of his thoughts at the hushed whispers once the other women exam the baby before following your unspoken request to hold your child.

"d-do you think lord sukuna will harm our lady for this...?"

"i hope not, surely he can make an exception, t-they both are still young and can always try for more!"

"but he's the king of curses, t-there no way he won't have a reaction!"

before he can demand what they find so important to discuss in front of you, chiyo hushes the girls with a wave of her hand, ushering the girls to help wipe off your sweat, tears, and clean off the baby—gentle like it's the finest glass, she instructs—before turning to sukuna with a knowing smile.

"well, your greatness...congratulations on having a healthy and gorgeous little girl," she hums, wiping her hands with a clean cloth before going to rinse her hands to help stitch any rips and clean you up.

the room falls silent aside from your soft little coos and the wails of your daughter as you brush the wet, fluffy hair on her little head.

all the women in the room continue to work, but it's clear they are silently waiting for his outburst.

everyone knows that a proper heir to any throne is a boy...but now, sukuna's first born child is a girl.

but rather angry, yelling, and threats to your and your child's life, the room is filled with Suku's booming laughter, which practically shakes the entire room.

instead of an enraged expression, pure delight, and excitement are painted on his face as he sits next to you on the soft cushiony bedding on the floor, his hand caressing the rounded cheek of your newborn.

"so, you've given me a girl," he hums in delight, all four of his eyes narrowing. "this will be the one who takes over my throne once i decide to step down?"

this thing, this tiny, itty bitty baby...came from you both? it's almost laughable how small this baby is compared to his hand, that something so little could be related to him.

she's...nothing short of perfect. "absolutely divine...she will not just be beautiful like her mother, but as powerful as both of us."

he's so proud of you and your child. he would shower your daughter with riches, love, and anything she could ever want and ask for.

but, he couldn't lie.

she's a damned fat baby, big head and all.

"sukuna, watch your mouth!"

he can't help but laugh, not realizing his thoughts came out of his mouth. "what, it's a good thing! means she's healthy," he boasts with a grin, leaning down closer to see her better.

"she looks strong already. as soon as she is able, i will personally teach her how to be a truly malevolent little princess, how to properly slit the necks of her enemies, how to—!”

oh, he is so excited, it's adorable.

“sukuna, shush, i just gave birth to a child with a massive head like yours, give me a moment," you say with a light laugh, your smile still reaching your clearly tired eyes.

“…apologies, my wife.”

chiyo can't help but laugh with you she finishes applying the healing ointment on your lower body, using a bit of her cursed energy to speed up the healing process to help you skip any serious pain.

after all, nothing but the best physician for you in sukuna's palace.

"always such an excitable boy, my lord, ever since you were a young man," she hums, helping one of the midwives properly wrap your baby in the soft, clean cloth.

"be gentle with her," you instruct him, gently moving your arms toward him so he could take the little bundle. he's...nervous, but he hides it well.

you place your daughter in his arms and he looks down at her, suddenly conscious of how loud he's breathing. she's got his hair, still a bit wet but soft and fluffy. it's pink, just like his.

a pleased rumble vibrates his chest, and he doesn't even realize he's doing it.

but then...her eyes open.

both sets.

he almost didn't notice it at first, they're just so small, but they're there. the same color as yours, pretty and big, filled with so much life.

his eyes burn, vision getting blurry. no words come to his head, he can't think of anything to say. he's so caught up in his thought he doesn't even notice chiyo ushering the other girls in the room out and shutting the door before quietly tending to you with water or food.

she knows that look, you do as well. she's been around longer than uraume to know her master, knowing the king of curses since his young years as the unwanted child of the village, abandoned by his mother for his 'horrid' appearance.

she was lucky to have found him before the villagers got to him, torches, axes, pitchforks and daggers in hand to take care of the child who they believed to have brought misfortune to their home.

getting him to safety was one of the best decisions she'd ever made, king of curses or not. no child deserved to be abandoned like that. and now, he's seeing himself in that tiny little being in his arms right now...chiyo can only imagine what he's feeling.

so, out of respect, she keeps her gaze averted, pretending she does not see the misty gaze he gives your daughter. this is a moment for you and him, and she does her best to make all her movements as quiet as possible.

all sukuna can think about in this moment is how he used to be just as tiny as this. he was just as vulnerable in his mothers arms. he couldn't talk, couldn't speak, couldn't fend for himself.

yet, his parents looked down at him just like this and decided he was an abomination and didn't give him a chance.

but now?

sukuna knows he would never, ever let anything happen to this little bundle in his arms. he would rather destroy the entire planet before letting anything happen to his baby girl. no one would make his little one suffer and live to see another day.

he flinches just a little, feeling your soft hand rubbing his bicep. "it's okay, my love," you softly coo at him, reaching up to wipe a tear from his eye before it had a chance to drip down his cheek. "she's going to grow up feeling loved and cherished because she's got a great father."

"hmm..."

a smile crosses his features as he looks back down, looking at the squirming baby so makes a little noise before calming down when he strokes her little, chubby cheek again to keep her from crying again.

"and she's got a great mother. she'll be the most wonderful princess in all of history," he says with a toothy grin, chest rumbling with a laugh.

"aww, my love, that's so sweet..."

"seriously, though, how in hells did you squeeze this thing out of ya? thing's got the head of a watermelon."

"sukuna, give me back my baby, and chiyo? get this man some food to stuff in his mouth before he says something to warrent the rage of a new mother."

all rights reserved © lxnarphase | do not repost, copy, translate, or alter my work

[nezuscribe]

it's been three weeks since arranged!gojo, your husband, the man you're growing to care deeply for, told you he'd be back.

there was some dispute he needed to oversee with the eastern tribes, something about the land that one was fighting for, but he promised, promised, it wouldn't take over a week to settle.

now it's been nearly a month, and there has not been a single word from him.

your maids told you this was normal, but you didn't miss how they spoke in hushed tones, their brows furrowed nervously whenever the name gojo came up.

you can't sleep in his bed, the smell of him overtaking your senses and making you go insane. you go back to your old room, huffing as you turn around each night, not able to sleep. other times you'd pace the floors, picking at your nails until they bled, wondering about what could've happened, not able to shake off your last moments with him whenever you got to thinking too hard.

"i'll be back," he had murmured in your hair, cradling you close to his chest as he said his goodbyes. his strong arms caged you in, and you had no room to fight him off as you tried to nod.

"bring back some eastern sugar," you said, "i've heard it's good for pies," your words were muffled, trying to cheer up the mood. you heard him laugh, his chest rumbling a little bit, but there was a hint of anxiety laced in it.

"i'll miss you," gojo finally whispered, his men in the background shouting for the others to hurry up.

"i know," you mumbled, craning your head to look up at him, trying to crack a smile that just came out wobbly, "but i won't tell you i missed you till you come back."

he smiled, rolling his eyes as his thumb ran up and down your cheek.

"i promise i will."

well now it's four weeks later and you can't sleep at night, your past words haunting you, wondering if you should've just told him what he wanted to hear in case...

but a couple nights later, when you're sitting at your desk, looking out the window, you hear it.

the clacking of horse hoofs, their scattered neighs.

you almost think you've gone delirious from sleep deprivation, rubbing at your eyes as you stumble closer to the windowsill, squinting your eyes as you look in the dark.

but you see the distant torch, the way it's getting closer and closer to the estate.

you have no care for modesty, pulling a thin robe over your body as you run out of your door, nearly falling down the stairs as you skip every other one, your bare feet hitting the stone with such force that you nearly break it.

the maids and servants around you are bustling to get ready for their return, but you don't care, weaving your way through their bodies as you run out through the entrance. you can feel your feet getting scraped up by the rocks, the cold autumn wind biting at your barely clad skin, but you feel like you're not moving fast enough.

his horse is the first one you see, leading the group of tired and aching men. his black stallion is dark as the night itself, and you doubt he can see you.

but gojo does, and when his eyes find the shadow of your body from across the field he's abandoning formation, his feet kicking the side of the horse to make it go faster.

it's rushed, and the closer he gets the more you can see the damage on his body. the bandages around his arms, the ones that peek out from his tunic on his shoulder. his face is littered with scrapes and bruises, but his smile is blinding.

you run to meet him, watching as he mounts off of the animal, his strong arms throwing themselves around you are nearly crushing and almost makes you stumble backward if not for his support.

there's a heavy silence that follows, and you're glad that his men take the hint to go another way, knowing the dangers of leaving you two out alone on a field.

you can't breathe, your arms so tight around his neck that you're worried you might be choking him. the way he lifts you to get you closer to him would make your body heat up if not for the fact that you know he needs you to be almost one with him.

"i thought you died," you say bluntly, your words said wetly into his neck, your scattered tears wetting his skin.

"i know," gojo murmurs, feeling like he can finally breathe for the first time in a month.

he finds your lips in a messy kiss, biting at your plush skin as you moan, feeling like if he didn't have you near to him he'd probably die. he smells your lavender oil dotted on your neck, the lingering sweetness on your lips from something you probably baked to help with your stress.

his hands lift you up further by your hips, his strength, despite his injuries, still unbridled as you wrap your legs around his waist, your fingers weaving into his snow-white locks as you hear him mumble curses beneath you.

"i missed you," you say against his lips, his feverish kisses driving you to madness. the way you say it with a choked-out sob, your tears mixing with his own.

gojo whines, biting at your neck as he tries to hide his face away, the vulnerability that you bring out of him is something that even his enemies would probably gawk over.

"i promised i'd come back," his voice is nearly gone with the way he says it in between his sloppy kisses on your neck, tugging at the fabric that hides the bareness of your chest with his teeth.

you crane your head to look at him, hitting the back of his head gently with an angered look.

"three weeks late," you reprimand him, almost reveling in the stricken and kicked look he gives you with those eyes.

he goes to say something but stops, shuffling your weight onto one of his arms (he had the right to brag about his strength), and rummages around one of the pockets of his trousers, pulling out a bag as he waves it in front of your face.

you gasp, suddenly climbing off of him as you turn it around with your fingers. he pouts at the fact that you detached from him, trying to wrap his arms around your waist to haul you back up.

"is this...?" you look up at him, new tears sprouting in your eyes as you wail, almost dramatically as your head hits his chest with a thump, pulling him into another hug as you seem to sob louder from when you first saw him.

"you cry more over the sugar than me?" he mutters petulantly, his hand still cradling the back of your head as you just limply stand there.

"don't ever leave again." you bite out, pinching his back as he yelps, but still leaving a searing kiss on the side of your face.

"i won't...my lady," he whispers teasingly, and this time, his promise is undying. he'd be a stupid man if he ever willing left this again.

fuck those state affairs. gojo would rather be home with his wife, watching her bake as she scolds him for eating her batter.

[nochepsicodelica]

"Really?" Toji asks, nudging your shoulder to wake you up, when he gets a good look at your back turned to him. His voice is slightly raspy with sleep, low in volume from its lack of use.

"Mm..." you hum in response, eyes shut as you try to ease back into slumber. You're in a curled position, your limbs wrapped around one of your extra pillows.

"Really?" Toji repeats, pawing at your shoulder, again.

"Yes, Toji," you say, quietly, not understanding what he's talking about, but agreeing just so that you can get back to sleep.

"Be serious, ma. Really?"

"What?" You ask, your tone somewhat laced with irritation, now.

It goes quiet for a few seconds, and then out of nowhere you hear the sheets rustling and the bed feels lighter. You're thinking there's no way he's so upset that he's leaving the room to sleep on the couch. He's the one who seemingly didn't want to cuddle, so you made do with what you had and grabbed a pillow.

You're snapped out of your attempt to go back to sleep when you feel your pillow trying to be yanked out of your arms.

"Let go of it," Toji mutters.

"What-" you grunt as you pull back and attempt to keep the pillow in your grasp. "What are you doing? Get back in bed, Toji." You hold on as tight as you can to the pillow that is slowly being torn out of your hands. "You're not gonna like when I let go and you're flung towards the wall."

"And you're not gonna like the punishment you earn if that happens. Let go of the pillow. Now."

You stare Toji down, holding your own against him. You know this isn't all of his strength and that he can easily rip the pillow out of your clutches, if he really wanted to, but like a dog with something it shouldn't have in its mouth, you're unwilling to do what he says.

"Listen up, doll, if you don't let go in the next five seconds, you're in for it."

"You're the one who pushed me away."

"Five."

"I need to hug something to sleep comfortably."

"Four."

"It's a pillow, Toji," you say, incredulously.

"Three."

"You're gonna take away my source of comfort?"

"Two."

"Toji."

"One. Let go."

"Oh my god," you groan, irritatedly. "Fine." You release the pillow, allowing Toji to take it away. You watch in disbelief as he throws it at the door so you can't get it without leaving the bed. You huff and scoot as close as you comfortably can to your end of the bed without falling off, before he returns to his side.

"Geeet back here." An arm is thrown over your waist, dragging you closer towards the center of the bed, until your back meets his front and his legs are tangled with yours. "Where are you going, huh? Still chasing after that pillow?"

"All of a sudden you wanna be close to me?" You scoff, in disbelief.

"So much attitude," he murmurs. His hand goes under your shirt, gliding up your warm skin to rest on your tummy. "Need me to give it to you all seven days, now?"

"No," you grumble.

"Well, that's what it's sounding like, to me." A kiss is planted on your shoulder. "Fix that tone, mama."

"You're so unfair. You're the one who didn't want to be held, but as soon as you noticed that I wasn't holding you, you took away my source of comfort. What did you want me to do, Toji?"

"I didn't even push you away, I rolled away in my sleep. It doesn't count."

You just hum in response, no longer in the mood to bicker about something so trivial when you could be working on getting back to sleep. A few seconds of silence go by, a spark of tension formed due to your lack of words.

"Ma?" He calls, barely pinching your soft, warm skin.

You sigh, blinking your eyes open. "What?"

"You mad?" His hand flattens on your tummy, rubbing slowly, as he waits for you to respond.

"No," you say, quiet and icy, even in its subtlety.

"That's a lie," Toji says, chuckling. "Come on, doll. What's got you all hot?"

It's hard not to melt into his touch. The kisses he presses to your shoulder only add on to the difficulty.

"Doesn't matter," you say, still trying to remain stoic.

"Yeah, it does. Now, tell me," he insists. "You're really gonna make me beg at almost two in the morning?"

"I was sleeping, and you woke me up 'cause you were butthurt over me hugging a pillow. There. Does that satisfy you?" You respond, and Toji has the audacity to laugh. You want to laugh too, but your stubbornness and pride will not easily allow you to.

"Poor baby," he coos, a mocking lilt to his tone. "You wanna tell me how to make it better?"

"You're an ass," you bite, no sharpness in your tone whatsoever.

"Ooh, I can hear that pout. You want a kiss? 'Cause I can give you one," he whispers, in your ear.

"Shut up," you mumble, trying not to give away the curling of your lips.

"You want a baby in here?" He asks, gently pressing into your stomach with his index finger.

"No! What?" You say, your giggles finally beginning to surface.

"Gotcha. Made you laugh," he says, pressing his face into the nape of your neck. He presses a kiss to the area before squeezing you in his arms, tight enough to make you groan until he eases up. "Now, tell me how to make it better. Come on, ma. It's not good to go to sleep mad."

You sigh, not wanting to argue with this annoying, yet, charming man, anymore. "Just help me get back to sleep," you mumble.

"Oh, I can do that," he says, a low chuckle homing into your ears. His hand lifts your shirt up more, aiming to get more access to your chest.

"Not like that, you perv!" You chide, pinning his hand on your mid-center. "Can you do that thing you always do?" You guide his hand down, until it rests just above your navel. He knows what you mean, and if this is what it takes for you to not be mad at him, he'll do it.

"You're like a baby that needs to be soothed to sleep," Toji murmurs, as he begins caressing your tummy, drawing little shapes on your skin that fuel your tiredness.

You huff out a laugh. "Acting like you don't drool and snore the second I start playing with your hair when you lay your head on my chest."