#and then the other one is on mikes table in his kitchen

[bullet-prooflove]

Baggage: Mike Franks x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @ilovemark1951 @love-affair-with-fandoms @clarasmoon @saturnsdevilz

Ties into GIbb's Ice Queen storyline:

Revelations - Gibbs is surprised to discover a connection between you and Mike Franks.

Haunted - Mike reflects on the aftermath of Violet's death.

Mike doesn’t realise he’s saying another woman’s name in his sleep, not until he wakes up to an empty bed at fuck knows what time on a Saturday morning. Things have been going well between the two of you since he put his cards on the table, you’ve been staying over, keeping stuff at his place. He thinks you’d move in if he asked you to and he’s been thinking about it, he just needs to bury this case first.

Once that’s over he can start looking to the future, one that starts with mornings going down on you and nights wrapped up in you.  

He finds you in the kitchen, hunched over the sink scrubbing the shit out of last night’s skillet. He leans in the doorway, appreciating you for a minute, drinking you in. You’re wearing one of his t-shirts, it barely covers your ass. Your hair is pulled up into a messy bun revealing that hickey he left on the back of your neck because he’d gotten a little carried away when he was fucking you from behind against the headboard. His gaze comes to rest back on that skillet, the ferocity of your cleaning and he knows that somewhere between making love to you last night and waking up this morning he's fucked up bad.

“What did I do?” He asks you, fiddling with the buttons of his open shirt.

You pause then, dropping the skillet back into the sink before you incline your head towards him. He can see the profile of your face in the light from the kitchen window and it almost takes his breath away. He has moments like this sometimes, ones where he gets a fierce rush of emotion when he sees you. He’s forgotten how intense it can be, falling in love again, the power you give the other person when you give them a part of yourself. Mike, he would walk through fire for you if you asked him to but you never will because love is about trust, about knowing the other person has your best interests at heart even when you lose sight of your own.

“Who is Violet?” You ask and the bottom just falls out of his entire world. “You’ve been saying her name in your sleep so she must be someone important.”

 “That’s a complicated answer.” He says finally because Mike he doesn’t like to go back to that place, not if he can help it.

“Oh.” You say, picking up a cloth to dry your hands as you turn to face him. There’s a hurt in your features, an anguish he feels deep down in the depths of this bones. “Well if it’s complicated, then let me uncomplicate it for you.”

You toss the cloth at him before you head towards the bedroom. He knows what you’re doing, you’re going to pack up your stuff, leave and part of him thinks he should let you because his baggage, it’s too fucking heavy to share with anyone else.

But then he remembers Maeve’s words from the night she patched him up back then and he realises maybe it's time to start talking about this shit.

“She died.” He says as you throw your holdall onto the bed. “Violet was my fiancée and she died.”

You freeze then and Mike waits for the words to filter through, his palm rubbing over the nape of his neck as you slowly sit down on the bed.

“It was a while back...” He tells you, tilting his head away because it’s easier to tell this story if he doesn’t have to look at you. “She was…”

He can’t quite find the words to describe Violet.

Vivacious, bubbly, the life and soul of the party.

None of them seem enough.

“I loved her, I loved who I was when I was with her.”

He’d been brighter back then, less cynical. The world, it hadn’t seemed like such a dark place. He comes to sit beside you on the bed, his palms rubbing over each other as he continues his story.

“One night she went for a run, didn’t come home. I was working a shift, didn’t realise until the military police turned up looking for me.” He looks up then, his eyes meeting yours. “He hadn’t just killed her, he brutalised her too. He took something from her that even if she had lived, she would never have been able to get back.”

He sees your understanding. As a female detective in the SDPD, cases that involve sex crimes usually get delegated to you. The consensus is it’s a woman crime therefore the women are better equipped to handle it. The illusion is the victim is the only one destroyed by the crime, but rape, it has a ripple effect, it invades everyone connected to that person, it changes them.

“I can’t imagine what that must have been like for you.” You say into the silence, your hand clasping his. Your touch, it’s a lifeline in that moment, it gives him the strength to push on, to divulge the rest of the sordid story.

“It broke me.” He reveals, his voice raw with emotion. “I was a mess for long time after that, drinking, fighting, I just had to much fucking rage and I had nowhere to focus it.”

“They didn’t catch the guy?”

“No.” Mike says as he rubs the back of his hand across his eyes. “But the probie decided to go digging through the file recently and it’s generated some leads, I think we’re close, real fucking close.”

You squeeze his hand gently.

“That’s what the life lessons are about aren’t they?” You say softly. “You’re trying to make sure if anything happens…”

You trail off then and Mike nods his agreement.

“Leigh.” He says, his calloused hands encompassing your face, cradling it between them. “You are the most important thing in this world to me. When we started, it was like something inside just sparked and the part of me that had died, it came back to life. I could laugh again, breath again and that’s because of you, because of the way that you loved me.”

His forehead comes to rest upon yours, his thumbs stroking tenderly over your cheeks.

“If something happened to you I wouldn’t survive.” He murmurs against your mouth. “If I lost you like that…”

He’d follow you right into the grave, he can guarantee it.

“You won’t.” You promise him, your lips brushing over his. “With everything you’ve taught me, you’ve made sure of that.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[dudeshusband]

Title: A Very Mikedude Thanksgiving

Words: 1.1k

Description: Mike and Dude host Thanksgiving.

Warnings: Mentions of religion (really they just say grace but cya and all that), the briefest mention of 1880s politics, period typical shenanigans

Dude took off his hat and ruffled his hair before walking up to the steps of his and Mike’s little house. The stairs hadn't quite become familiar to him yet. He still wasn’t used to having a house, or a ranch of his own. He twisted the doorknob and breathed in the smell of fresh baked pumpkin pie. Chance nodded at him from the dining table. Stumpy grinned at him. Feathers smiled politely. Was he late to his own Thanksgiving party? He hung his hat on a rack by the door and took off his ascot.

Mike was in the kitchen, checking on the turkey. Dude stepped in as soon as they closed the oven door and rose up to their full height.

“Hi, honey. Smells good,” he whispered close to their neck. He pressed a kiss behind their ear. Mike turned around and pulled him into a passionate kiss. Dude flushed bright red. “We have guests! I just gave you a quick peck. We’re not puttin’ on a show here.”

Mike rolled their eyes and shook their head fondly. “We’re married, silly.”

“We wouldn’t want to get in the way of your husbandly duties,” Colorado called teasingly as he walked through the door. “Sorry I’m late.”

Mike waved their hand. “You aren’t late. Thanks for coming.”

“I’m gonna kill that kid,” Dude joked.

“Kid? He’s only a few years younger than me. You remember that.”

“Hey, I ain’t no cradle robber.”

“I didn’t say that,” Mike retorted. “Anyway, move so I can finish these mashed potatoes.”

“Can’t even get a ‘please’ anymore.”

Mike grinned. “Okay, please move your ass so I don’t burn Thanksgiving dinner.”

Dude lifted his hands. “Alright, I’m going.”

He took a seat at the table and waited for Mike to bring everything out. He wished they would’ve let him help in there. It was a big ask for one person.

Mike brought out the vegetables first, and the dinner rolls. Next came wine (for everyone but Mike and Dude), and apple cider for Mike and Dude. The stuffing next, and the turkey last.

“Want me to carve it, honey?” Dude asked. He gave them his biggest pleading eyes. They had to let him do something.

Mike handed him the knife, and Dude divied up the turkey to everyone, except Mike.

“Does everyone want to say grace, or no?” Mike asked the table.

Everyone looked amongst each other. Mike was the only atheist at the table (don’t tell anyone). The rest were Southern Baptists, and the lone Catholic, Dude. He suddenly regretted not asking if Carlos and Consuelo would like to come here instead of hosting at the hotel.

“I’ll do it,” Dude offered. He bowed his head, and the others followed suit. “Here goes. Holy Father, thank you for this meal we’re about to have, and for bringing us all here together. Here’s to another good year. In Jesus’ name, Amen.”

“Amen,” replied everyone else.

The group began to eat. Various conversations about how Mike and Dude’s horses and crops were holding up, town gossip, local events, and price changes ensued.

As far as politics:

“How do we feel ‘bout that man in office?” asked Colorado.

“Arthur?” asked Mike. “He isn’t too good for immigration.”

“What’s he got against Chinamen?” asked Chance.

That conversation quickly concluded.

“When are you gettin’ married, Chance?” asked Dude.

“When I find a woman I wanna get married to,” Chance almost grumbled.

“When he figures out how to be open with his feelings, he means,” Feathers interjected.

“Feelings? I’m a man of the law.”

“So’s Dude but he has feelings,” Mike pointed out.

“Don’t go gettin’ soft on me, Dude.”

“What? Need me or somethin’?” Dude teased. He waved his hand.“Ah, I’m only soft on Mike.”

Mike smiled, then kissed Dude’s hand.

“Chance’ll never change,” said Dude. “Some girl’s gotta get used to his hardass act.”

“I pity that girl!” chimed in Colorado.

“I sure couldn’t,” said Feathers.

“Don’t go bringing that up!” Chance complained.

“What about you, Colorado?” Dude asked to change the subject.

Colorado swallowed the half a roll in his mouth. “What about me?”

“Got a girl?”

He smirked. “A few.”

Mike rolled their eyes. Dude shook his head.

“Always the smartass,” said Chance.

“Hey, I mean I got a line of girls looking my way,” said Colorado defensively.

“Oh do you?” Mike teased.

Colorado counted on his fingers, “Molly, Suzie, Maryann, Ester-”

“Ester?!” Dude interjected. “What pretty girl is named Ester?”

“You’re married to a Mike.”

Everyone laughed.

“Hey, now, Mike’s a- well, it’s a- it’s a boy’s name. That don’t matter. I love Mike.”

Mike squeezed his hand.

“You walked right into that, Dude,” said Stumpy with a chuckle.

“Who’s ready for some pie?” Mike asked.

Everyone chimed in with a “yes, please” and the pumpkin pie was served.

“This is some good pie, Mike,” said Colorado.

Everyone muttered something in agreement.

Mike beamed. “Thank you, I’m glad.”

After the pie, Feathers glanced out the window.

“Well, I better be getting back on the stage.”

“Hey, stay in town awhile,” suggested Dude. “You can stay here or I’m sure Carlos has a room for you. You don't gotta fly like a bat outta hell.”

Feathers gave a skeptical glance at Chance. “I don't know, John T. here doesn't seem to like me as a reminder.”

Chance retorted, in his grumpy way, “Ah, if I gave a damn, I wouldn't be here.”

“Alright,” Feathers conceded. “I’ll go talk to Carlos and see about leaving at the end of the weekend instead.”

Feathers thanked Mike and Dude, then headed off to the hotel.

Colorado stood. “Guess that's my cue, too. I didn't know being deputy got you up with the roosters. Goodnight Mike, Dude.”

“That sure was a good meal,” announced Stumpy eventually. He stood up with a hand on his leg. “I gotta get myself back to the jail. That new feller ain’t no Joe Burdette but he don't wanna be in jail either!”

“Bye Stumpy!” Mike called to him as he limped out of the house.

The last to go was Chance. “I’ll take a turn around the town. You coming Dude?”

Dude leaned on Mike’s shoulder. “Nah, I wanna be with Mike.”

Chance shrugged. “Alright. See ya tomorrow.”

Once he left, Mike and Dude started packing up the food and clearing the table.

“Maybe we should have had everyone take some home,” Mike said as they looked at the state of their icebox.

“We could give some to the church tomorrow, you know, for the needy?”

Mike nodded. “We should. It’s liable to go bad sitting on table tops and what little can survive being in the ice.”

Dude pulled Mike to his side and kissed their neck. “Mmm but that can wait ‘til tomorrow. We should go to bed.”

“You're so full of turkey it’s a wonder you're standing on your own two legs.”

Dude laughed and kissed Mike affectionately. “C’mon, honey.”

Mike took Dude's hand and the pair fell into bed, only removing some of their clothes when they got under the blankets.

“Love you,” Dude mumbled sleepily.

Mike kissed his forehead. “Love you too.”

[chirpsythismorning]

☎️🪞🍍🌈🎶

[mayflysdie]

No more. -Ghost FanFic

Story: Simon's wife is kidnapped and tortured, leaving him and 141 to find her. Hopefully before it's too late.

Trigger warnings: Foul language, torture, violence, body fluids, drugs, knives, choking, restraints, dark themes not suited for minors, mentions of pregnancy, bodily harm, a battle with personalities. (tell me if I messed any)

A/N: Haven't edited this yet so excuse the mistakes. I'm also not sure if I'll make a part 2.

When i entered the apartment, something immediately felt off. Like someone made the air thick, and the rooms eerily silent. 

I set my bag down softly, retrieving the combat knife that Simon had given me years ago. My eyes sweep over every shadowy nook and cranny of the apartment, searching for any signs of danger. I'm usually in the habit of leaving the kitchen light on, but it's off tonight - one of the first things I notice upon entering. My phone begins to vibrate in my hand, thankfully I must have forgotten to turn off the silent mode from my earlier meeting. Without looking at the caller ID, I answer it, bringing it up to my ear. 

" Where are you?" Simon's voice is on edge, and it sounds like he's panting. There’s other male voices in the background, it sounds like Price is yelling. 

“Home��� I whisper so quietly i’m not sure he could hear me. Or maybe the heartbeat in my ears made it seem that way. 

As I close my eyes for what feels like a mere second, a sudden jolt startles me. The phone is violently knocked out of my trembling hand and a cloth is swiftly placed over my mouth, the stench of chemicals immediately assaulting my senses. My nose and eyes burn with an intensity that is almost unbearable. Fight, do something.

In a moment of panicked instinct, I swing the nearby knife towards the man who had seemingly appeared from the depths of the kitchen, barely managing to nick him in the neck before he grabs hold of my wrist with a vice-like grip. With a sickening crunch, my bones are twisted until I can no longer hold onto the weapon and drop it to the ground, letting out a muffled scream against the suffocating cloth.

Through the hazy fog clouding my mind, I hear Simon's voice growing increasingly distant as he yells through the phone, his words barely registering in my fading consciousness. As my eyes slowly drift shut on their own accord, a sense of numbness begins to envelop my limbs. Simon, Simon please.

The man roughly lifts me up, easily overpowering my weakened attempts at resistance, and I can do nothing but succumb to the darkness creeping in as my consciousness slips away.

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

As my eyes slowly creep open, I become aware of the lingering effects of the drugs coursing through my mind and body. Panic immediately sets in as I realize I am unable to move any part of my body. My heart races as I take in my surroundings - a dark metal room with a pungent odor of iron and decay, like a slaughterhouse filled with rotting carcasses.

I am lying on a cold, hard metal table, shackled down by heavy chains that dig into my skin. 

“it’s an incredible drug, isn’t it?” A deep male voice suddenly echos throughout the room. Coming from the right side of the table, where I can’t turn my head to see them. 

“You can’t move or speak, But… you can feel pain” He chuckles, sounding closer than before. 

Suddenly, something sharp stabs into my arm and I try to cry out in pain, but my body won’t respond. Simon, where are you?

“Mike, turn on the camera would you? It’s time for the show,” he instructed someone else in the room. He grabs my hair roughly and yanks my head to the side, facing him.

Then I notice a tightness around my throat, something cold and hard. is there a chain around my neck? I panic, eyes widening.

the man sees my panic and laughs, tossing his head back as if he’s seeing the best thing in the world. 

“Oh that’s good, I love that expression. I hope Ghost does too” He starts tracing my neck and collar bone with a knife. not yet slicing me, but enough pressure to leave raised, red lines. 

“It’s nothing personal, darling,” his gravelly voice whispers in my ear as he lowers himself closer to me. My body tenses and I want to desperately move away. “But, a life for a life, hm?” He chuckles darkly, his breath hot on my skin. “Unfortunately for you, I plan to make your death slow for him. His precious thing.”

My heart races as he drags the sharp blade down my collar bone, leaving a trail of blood in its wake. A searing pain shoots through my chest as he cuts a deep line between my breasts, and down to my lower abdomen. The knife seems to find its home there, digging deeper with each passing second. I want to scream, to kick and squirm away from the agony, but I am paralyzed.

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

Simon runs into the apartment, gun drawn though he already knows they left. That they got what they came for. A dark pit forms in his stomach, blind fury almost overwhelming him. 

He bends down to pick up your phone, and just stares at it. if only he could’ve called sooner, then this wouldn’t have happened. 

The vow he made when you married; to always protect you, let no harm befall you. 

it rings in his head nonstop, like a broken record. 

Soap and Price slowly walk through the entrance, Price on the phone with Laswell, who’s trying her best to locate you. 

Simon stands up when Soap places a hand on his shoulder, a grim look on his face. “We’ll find the lass”. But his words go in one ear and out the other. 

Price walks into the living room in a hurry, grabbing the tv remote and turning it on. “Simon” He says, and something in his tone makes Simon, and Soap move with haste to see what’s going on. 

Simon's trembling legs nearly give way beneath him as he stumbles towards the couch, reaching out to grab it for support when he sees your face on the television screen. His heart drops to his stomach as he takes in the sight of you, battered and bloody. The camera zooms out, revealing the full extent of your injuries, and that's when bile rises in Simon's throat, threatening to overflow.

He remembers how he used to run his hands across your perfect skin while lying in bed together, or how he would sneak a hand up your shirt while you were cooking and you would just giggle and swat him away with a spoon. He remembers staring into your eyes, like honey pools reflecting all the love in the world. But now they're red and swollen, almost unrecognizable.

Simon rushes to the nearest bathroom, tearing off the balaclava covering his face. He hunches over the toilet as his stomach lurches and empties itself, leaving him dry heaving and gasping for air.

Images from his past come rushing back at full force - bodies, blank stares, all reminders of the darkness that seems to follow him wherever he goes. But you were supposed to be the one good thing in his life. goddamnit, You were supposed to stay.

As Simon stands up and flushes the toilet, trying to steady himself, something catches his eye on the counter. Something white with a blue cap. His mind turns to static as he reaches for it and sees two very obvious red lines.

He slowly walks out of the bathroom, the pregnancy test held tightly in his hand. 

The television screen is now dark and silent, but Price and Soap still stare at it with blank expressions.

Simon closes his eyes, breathing slowly. calming his racing heart, steadying his mind. 

“Simon?” Price calls out, but he ignores him. 

Simon can’t be here.

He's too fragile for this. Too emotional and vulnerable. A man who let himself love and be loved, only to have his world torn apart.

No, what his wife needs now is a ghost. Someone strong and unfeeling, who won't hesitate to do what needs to be done. They took his beloved wife, his reason for living.

And now, he has a child on the way. She’s carrying his child and they’re harming her, hurting his wife and child. 

Not my family, not again.

No.

No.

No. 

This world will burn before something happens to them.

Finally, he opens his eyes, and Price is standing closer than before, his gaze fixed on the pregnancy test in Ghost's hand. His face has gone pale with realization.

“Simon?”

Simon isn’t fucking here. 

[sideeve]

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀( living with Mike Schmidt )

— ★ Abby is his heart and soul. he knows if you’re a winner if she feels comfortable showing you her drawings.

— ★ i feel like American Idiot by Green Day is him and Abby getting ready for work/school. it’s a routine they built and can’t break out of it. so when you stay the night, you were shocked to see how quick they get out the house since Mike is always late to work.

— ★ if you can cook, you brought more meals on the menu and Mike can’t thank you enough. now, he doesn’t have to cook up some Chef Boyardee or order pizza. you were the only one they trusted in the kitchen.

— ★ weekly movie night was implemented on friday nights. you saw how much Abby and Mike were drifting away from each other so you took it upon yourself to make a movie night on fridays. the only problem is their choices. Abby would want to watch Coraline and Mike wanted to watch Megamind.

— ★ your first date was…something. Mike couldn’t really afford to go somewhere special so he found a recipe in one of the local libraries (the movie was set in like the 80s…) and cooked it up decent enough for it to be considered edible. (i’m joking, it was delicious) everything was good until—

“mike!” Abby yells from her bedroom. he was just in the middle of explaining something important to you, something he was passionate about. you could tell by the way he tried to hide his smile. but his sister comes first before anything. “Abby,” he whispers loud enough for only her to hear. “i thought i told you to keep quiet a bit. i have a date, remember?” she crosses her arms, “my tooth fell out.” “so? put it under your pillow and the tooth fairy will get it.” “that’s the thing! you told me that last time and i haven’t gotten five bucks! the tooth is still here!” shittttt. Mike sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “i’ll give you five plus more if you just keep quiet, okay?” Abby nods. “okay, good.” Mike starts to walk off before coming back. “how do i look?” he adjusts his collars. “like a million bucks.” Abby giggles, smiling, showing off her missing tooth. “sorry about that.” Mike clears his throat, sitting back at the dinner table. “no, no. that was actually cute.” you smile, you heart warmed by the brothers-sister relationship they had.

— ★ you help him sleep. now, he doesn’t need that bland nebraska poster, or that tape with nature sounds, or sleeping pills. he has you. and even the nights that you aren’t there, he would spray your favorite perfume on your pillow, hugging it close to you as if he were hugging you.

NSFW headcanons

— ★ he’s a switch. 50/50. i think his sex drive is normal if not low. he values romantic gestures than sexual gestures. but in the sex field, he’s both a giver and receiver.

— ★ let’s start with dom!mike. you’d mainly see dom!mike if it was a bad day at work or a long one. scenario; abby had been knocked out in her bed around bedtime. you technically had the house to yourself as you waited for mike to get home. finally, you hear a car pull in and the engine turn off. you could sense that it was him. you were expected a cuddle session until you both fell asleep. not you being bent over the couch, his fingers in your mouth to hush the moans escaping from your lips, fucking you like a rabid dog.

— ★ on the sub aspect, you have a whiny baby on your hands. begging and whining for you to let him cum. he pinky swears he’ll be a good boy. he whines, groans, begs. all of that. he begs so much that you have to put a hand on his mouth so he won’t wake up abby sometimes. if he’s pissed you off, you’d punish him by riding him but not letting him touch you and edging him so much that tears form at the waterline.

— ★ munch. munch! MUNCH!!! when he’s stuffed in between your thighs, he humps the edge of the bed, cumming in his pants. he’s too ashamed to let you know. he thinks it’s sick. he’s getting off by the taste of you, your sounds, and your juices dripping down his chin.

taglist ;; @worldsgreatestsinner

[gogogodzilla]

Easy Mornings

mike schmidt x reader warnings: nsfw 18+, unprotected sex, creampie, hair pulling, mike’s POV, almost getting caught, i know the majority voted for a different way this could go, but i already had this one started (sorry y'all, that one is coming soon) part 1 ✩ part 2 ✩ main masterlist ✩ read on ao3

Mike gripped the steering wheel with an iron grip for the entire drive home, excitement buzzing throughout his body. Your panties weighed heavy in his front pocket, now covered his cum. 

His hands shook as he pulled into the driveway. He wondered how he’d find you. Would you be buried under the covers of his bed, one of his old t-shirts just barely covering your modesty? He’d gently pull the covers off of your sleeping form, exposing yourself to him. His breath would catch in his throat as he took in your figure and his hands would trail up your bare thighs. 

His mind got lost in the possibilities as his hands rested on the steering wheel. He shook his head, attempting to rid himself of thoughts of you at least long enough for him to get in the front door. 

His keys jingled softly against the lock and he breathed in the scent of freshly-brewed coffee. You had your back turned to him, leaning over the kitchen table and scanning over one of your textbooks. 

You clutched your coffee mug in your hand and took a sip, not noticing his presence. Morning sunlight shone gently through the windows, illuminating the kitchen and bathing you in a soft glow. You were wearing one of his old t-shirts, just as he thought. You looked heavenly in this light, and Mike would have the image burned into his mind forever. 

He set his bag quietly down by the door and padded closer to you. You jumped as he wrapped his arms around your center and tugged you closer to him. His hands gripped your hips and held you in place as his lips moved on their own accord and trailed down your neck. 

He could practically feel your grin as you hummed, leaning into him. “Did you enjoy what I packed for you?”

His grip tightened on your hips as he pulled you into his growing bulge. He breathed in your scent, taking in the moment alone with you. 

“Sure did,” he hummed against your skin. “I think I’ll enjoy the real thing a bit more.” 

His hands drifted down your body and under your shirt, skirting over the bare skin of your thighs. He lets out a satisfied noise as his fingertips trailed over your ass. You were bare for him, your panties still sitting snugly in his front pocket. 

One of his hands drifted down and across the backs of your thighs to run his middle finger through your folds. You let out a small gasp at his touch and pushed your hips against him, already needy for him. His fingertip grazed across your clit, and his lips attached to your neck once again. 

“Mike,” you whimpered softly, attempting to keep your voice down. Abby was due to be woken up soon. 

His finger dipped in your entrance before returning to your clit, and your frustrated groan was interrupted by him sliding inside of you. He slowly pumped it before allowing his pointer finger to join it, stretching you divinely.  He removed his other hand from your hip to draw lazy figure-eights across your clit, earning him one of those pretty moans he loved to hear. 

Mike removed his hand from your clit to work at undoing the button of his pants and tugging the zipper down. He removed his fingers from your dripping core and slipped them past his lips, sighing at the taste. 

“Gotta be quiet, baby,” he murmured against your ear as he freed his painfully hard cock from his boxers. You hurriedly nodded as he dragged his cock through your folds, gathering your slick. His grip tightened on your hip as he was already getting lost in the feeling of you. You both let out soft moans as his tip bumped your clit before moving back to tease your entrance. 

You jutted your hips against his, “Mike.”

He answered you by angling his cock up to your entrance and slowly pushing inside of you. He barely met any resistance as your pussy greedily swallowed him whole, and he let out a low groan. 

He presses his palm against the space between your shoulder blades, nudging you to bend over the kitchen table for him. You pushed your textbook and coffee cup out of the way. He lifted your shirt to get a good view of the way you were taking him like you were made for him.

You arched your back as he started to move his hips against yours. Your walls fluttered and clenched around him, and he wasn’t sure how long he’d be able to last. You felt divine against him as always, and he gripped your ass. 

“Ah— fuck, baby. Taking me so good.” 

Your arms moved upward to support yourself as he thrust into you, fingernails digging into the wooden surface of the table. You let out a satisfied moan at his words, and he felt you clench around him. 

You stood on your tiptoes, allowing him to hit the spot inside you that had you squirming against him and mewling. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip in an attempt to stifle the moans that were escaping you, and the desire to kiss you nearly overwhelmed him. 

He ran his fingers through the hair at the base of your neck and pulled you so your back was flush against his chest. He gripped your chin and turned your head so he could put his lips against yours. The angle was awkward, but he didn’t care. You didn’t seem to either as you reached back and tugged his hair, pulling him closer. 

He jutted his hips deeper inside of you, and the familiar coil formed in his belly. He pressed hurried kisses against the side of your neck, nipping at your earlobe just to keep you on your toes. He reached around you and rubbed tight circles around your clit. You whined loudly and he clamped a hand across your mouth. 

He shushed you as he increased his pace, “Fuck… Gotta be quiet, baby.” 

He squeezed his eyes shut, jaw clenching as he became lost in the sensation of you. He was hanging by a thread, but he wanted to feel you cum around him. The thought had been driving him insane all night, and he needed it. 

The kitchen filled with the sound of his hips slapping against yours and the slight shake of the table from his thrusts. The chance of getting caught spurred him to drive his cock deeper inside you with every thrust, earning a high-pitched mewl muffled by his palm. 

Your entire body tensed against him as you came hard around his cock, squeezing him just right. His hips stuttered against you as his orgasm rapidly approached. 

With a final, deep thrust of his hips, he was cumming inside you. His release painted your insides, and he let out a low groan as he continued to ride out both of your orgasms. 

After a few more drags of his hips, he stilled within you, panting. Slowly, he pulled his cock out of you and watched how his cum dripped over your puffy folds. 

Muffled footsteps originated from Abby’s room, and the both of you straightened. He hurried to right himself, and you had just enough time to tug your shirt down to cover yourself before Abby came padding out of her room. 

“Hey, Abs,” you greeted as you tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear and picked up your coffee cup. You stood with your legs crossed, watching as she entered the kitchen. 

Mike attempted to appear casual as he commented, “You’re up early.”

Abby shrugged, furrowing her brows, “A loud noise woke me up, but I’m not sure what it was.”

Mike’s eyes widened as he met your equally embarrassed gaze. 

You set your mug down, “I’m gonna go get dressed.” 

Your footsteps were hurried as you made your way to Mike’s room. He grinned at the thought of his cum dripping out of you and down your thighs. 

He moved toward the fridge as Abby sat at the kitchen table, “How ‘bout I make you some breakfast?”

[sadembryhours]

Can you a Josh x reader where the reader helps Josh cope with his sisters’ death?

HUMAN! ♡ josh washington

synopsis : you try your best to help him live ; allow him to grieve and hold his hand as he does. silently, he’s forever thankful.

cw : heavy mental health talk / depections , josh is unwell , reader takes care of him

song inspo ; human by dodie

🪷 if you have a blank blog [no bio, no user, no header or profile pic, nothing reblogged, etc] do not interact with my content. you will be blocked. 🪷

Blue and red lights surround you, bouncing off of the freshly fallen snow. Jess is sobbing into Mike's shoulder, Emily holding her hand as they talk to two officers in their uniform. Sam is laying her own head on your shoulder, her hand squeezing yours as you both sit in silence.

Chris stands with Josh, who only stars at the mountain view around him.

You shiver as the wind whips by you, carrying a conversation your way. Two other officers look at Josh warily before looking back at the lodge. It was a crime scene now — closed for everyone until further notice.

"With me," your voice cuts through. Josh's watery, unseeing eyes seem to find you. With a frown, you look back towards the officer. "He can stay with me."

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🪷ɞ˚‧｡⋆

The silence of the drive home follows you as you lead Josh inside. He treks in slowly, boots heavy, laced with snow and distress. Lifelessly, Josh all but falls onto your couch, perching there stiffly.

You frown, "Josh? Are you hungry? Thirsty?"

He mumbles, but you can only hear him saying his sisters names. Crouching, you meet his gaze as best as you can. Your fingers lace into his — they're cold ; frigid and frozen as he simply twitches at the touch. "Josh. Are you with me?"

He still doesn't speak, no movement or sound comes from him at all. You hold your dismay in, concealing it and composing yourself instead. You stand, shuffling Josh out of his shoes and jacket until he's left in his sweater. Taking off your own outside clothes, you turn the tv onto something silly and absent-minded. With a stroke to the top of his head, you leave Josh to make something warm to eat.

It'll take time, you think to yourself. The stove comes to life, warming your house up even more as you cook. The living room is silent — Josh sits as still as a statue. You don't even know if he's blinked since coming in — since Sam woke him up from the horrible prank that was played on his sisters. It'll just take some time.

You blow on the food you'd made, setting it on the coffee table in front of you. A cup of Josh's favored drink goes to the left of it as you leave to get on your own plate. The couch dips as you sit beside him — he's still blank, even as you nudge him gently.

"Eat before it gets cold," you say quietly. Gentle — Josh needs gentle, tender words to help him come back ; help him heal. He merely blinks. "Should I feed you, then?"

A twitch of his lips — it's not much, but it's enough to get a grin out of you. Leaning forward, you meet his eyes. "I will! Is that what you want? The royal treatment, your highness Josh?"

His lips spread into a small, delicate smile before creaky, frozen joints start to move. He grabs his silverware with shaking hands, settling the plate on his lap. Josh stares at the steam, "thanks."

"Eat up," you respond. You squeeze his free hand for a minute before letting it go. Josh looks at you through his eyelashes and you smile at him. "There's plenty more if you're still hungry."

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🪷ɞ˚‧｡⋆

No longer catatonic, Josh still only spoke quietly and sparsely. He ate one meal a day, if that, and only because you pestered him to do so. A week had went by with him simply sitting. He turned the tv to a news channel, eyes wide and seeing each and every emergency broadcast.

Simply waiting for any news of his sisters.

"Hey," you lean on the doorway between the kitchen and living room. Josh turns his head only an inch, eyes cemented on the current weather updates. "Want to shower? It'll warm you up."

Josh's hands twitch in his lap as he blinks. You bite your lip, going to stand in front of him. It's as if he's looking through you ; as if he can still the tv you stand in front of. "Josh?"

With no response, you take matters into your own hands once more. A warm washcloth is held in one hand, a bowl of steamy, soapy water in the other. You kneel on the floor in front of Josh, the bowl off to your right. Dipping the washcloth in the water, you wring it out before wiping Josh's face tenderly.

He blinks at the warmth, inhaling the scent of your soap slowly. Life trickles back into his eyes, sea foam brightening surely until he's looking at you. "[Name]."

"Hi," you grin at him. You set the rag down, hands in your lap as Josh stares. "Doing alright?"

"Yeah." Looking at the damp cloth in your hand, Josh blinks. "I don't think I can stand."

You shake your head before he finishes his sentence. You lift yourself to your knees, raking your fingers in his hair. "Don't worry about it. This is enough for now."

Josh's eyes flutter at your touch as you continue to give him a half-hearted bath. His hands unclench, leaving his side to wrap around your elbows. You pause, rag against his neck as you look at him curiously. He breathes out, "thank you."

"I'll get you a change of clothes when I'm done, hm?"

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🪷ɞ˚‧｡⋆

The nightmares seem to start then. The more Josh continued to come back to reality, the meaner his mind became. Trying to get him in a bed was useless — your guest room was absent of a tv and he needed to see the news.

Whimpering wakes you from the small sleep you'd drifted off to. You never had a deep sleep now, always keeping one ear open for Josh. Letting out a sleepy sigh, you stumble into the living room.

He's already awake by the time you find him. Curled up on the floor in front of the couch, knees to his chest as he cries. "Sorry," Josh stutters, "sorry, I'm so sorry."

You don't know if he's talking to you or someone — something else.

Slowly, so you don't spook him, you take a seat to Josh's left. Your eyes droop as you lean your chin on the table, hand inching to his. You entertwine your fingers with his, taking them from where Josh was pulling and tugging at his hair.

Josh jumps, eyes wide and startled as he searches for you in the darkness. You smile his way softly, "let's sleep in my room tonight. I'll keep the tv on."

You're already half-asleep when Josh curls around you. Turning, you open you arms to welcome him into your embrace. A heavy, withering sigh escapes his mouth and causes his chest to tremble. Josh burrows his face into your chest, "thank you, [Name]."

"You have to stop thanking me," you slur sleepily. Tender, tickilish nails scrape against his scalp lightly, bringing him closer to you. Josh sighs and relaxes further. "I don't mind taking care of you."

As you drift off, a tentative, burning kiss is left at your clavicle. Josh breathes you in once more before he delves into blissful, happy memories of his sisters.

————

sadembryhours © do not copy, plagiarize, repost, or translate my content on any platform. if you see my content under any other name than my own, let me know. i only have this tumblr and an ao3 account under the name airbendertendou.

[ahsokaismyqueen]

Idiotic Decisions Pairing - Steve Harrington x HendersonSister!Reader Summary - Working on a project with douchebag Steve Harrington was not something you were looking forward to doing. However, you're surprised to find that maybe he's just a little less of a jerk than you thought. Word Count - 2.2k Warnings - Language and season 1 Steve, but that's it! Steve Harrington x HendersonSister!Reader Masterlist

Of all the things that you thought you might have to do in high school, partnering with Steve Harrington on a project was the one you probably wanted to do the least. Even less so did you want him to know where you lived and be in your house, but one, you had to be there when your brother got home, and two, you wanted the home field advantage. 

“I still don’t see why you don’t just blow him off. You can come over and help me work on my new campaign. I had this great idea -”

You rolled your eyes. “Eddie, I’m not blowing off this project. It’s like twenty-five percent of my grade, and if I leave it all to Harrington I’m sure to fail.” 

Eddie snorted over the phone. “Don’t you have like a 98 in that class?” 

A sigh left your lips. “Yes, and I’d prefer to keep it that way. I need all the help I can get for scholarships. We’re gonna run like hell outta here remember? I can’t do that without some help.” After a moment, a thought struck you though. “Wait, don’t you have your own project to do? For Ms. O’Donnell?” 

“What’s that? Oh, sorry, my Uncle’s calling me to do some stuff around the trailer. I’m going to have to let you go.” He rattled off. 

But you knew he was lying. “I know damn well Wayne’s at work, Eddie.” 

“Bye!” Then there was nothing on the other end but a dial tone. 

Glancing at the clock in the kitchen, you let out a groan, knowing that Steve would be here any minute, and started cleaning off the table so you two would have some space to work. By 5, the time Steve had agreed to be there, everything was clean and your notes were laying out on the table for the two of you to use since you were sure he didn’t have any. 

Then it was 5:30, and he still wasn’t there. 

6:00

7:00 

7:30 and there was still no sign of Steve Harrington. 

By that point, you had grabbed a beer from where you had hidden them in the back of the fridge, and had taken up a spot on the couch with your new book, The Gunslinger. You almost didn’t answer when the knock sounded at your door, but you were curious as to what his excuse might be. 

Steve Harrington stood on your doorstep with what you were sure was supposed to be a charming grin. “Hey, Henderson.” When you stared at him without saying a word, the grin started to fade, and he fidgeted around. “You gonna let me in or?” 

You brought your beer to your lips and took a sip, continuing to stare him down for a moment, and then you took a step back, shutting the door in his face. Turns out you didn’t care what his excuse was. You sat back down on the couch and opened your book once again. 

Steve started trying to talk to you through the door. “Come on, Henderson, basketball practice ran late, and then I had to call Nancy-” 

You let out a snort and flipped the page. 

“Just let me in. I promise I’ll do whatever you say, all the grunt work, hell, I’ll even write, ‘I will not be late.’ Like a hundred times if that’ll make you feel better.” He pleaded. 

Hmmm . . . That would be amusing. 

“Henderson, seriously, what’s it going to take? I can’t fail this class-”

“What are you doing here?” 

You leapt out of your seat and ran to the door, opening it with a big grin. “How did it go?” You asked Dustin. 

Your little brother mirrored your grin. “It was awesome! We didn’t get finished though.” 

You nodded, expecting that. “Campaigns take forever sometimes, but it’s worth it in the end.” 

“Will was trying to attack the demogorgon, and when he rolled the dice, it flew off the table, then it took forever to find it.” 

“Was it a thirteen?” You asked. 

Dustin shook his head. “It was a seven, but Mike didn’t see it, so it didn’t count.” 

Letting out a laugh, you lifted Dustin’s hat to ruffle his hair. “Sneaky. I like it.” 

“Are you two speaking English?” 

You had forgotten Steve was there until he spoke. You shot him a scowl, but didn’t respond to him. “Come on, as awesome as that sounds, you’ve got to get to bed.” You told your little brother, wrapping your arm around his shoulder and bringing him inside. You tried to shut the door behind you, but Steve snuck in before you could. 

“What is he doing here anyway?” Dustin asked again, glancing back at Steve as you tugged him to his room. 

“Being inconsiderate and disrespectful of my time. Which is what I should have expected.” You replied without looking at Steve who was following behind the two of you. “Brush your teeth, lights out in ten.” You told him. 

Dustin groaned. “Fine.” 

“Are you having to babysit your brother tonight or something?” Steve asked. 

You didn’t want to respond, but you got the feeling that he was going to keep pestering you until you did. “No. My mom’s just asleep already.” 

Steve glanced down at his wrist, and then at you. “At 8:00?” 

Something about his tone made you snap. “Not that it’s any of your damn business, but her medication makes it hard for her to stay awake.” 

Steve seemed to recognize the defensiveness in your tone, holding up his hands in front of himself. “Sorry, I’m not used to a quiet house by 8:00. My dad’s usually three beers in, yelling at my mom about how shitty and stupid I am at that point.” 

You paused for a moment, then narrowed your eyes at him. “I’m not going to feel sorry for you when you show up three hours late to work on a project that’s like a fourth of our grade.” You shoved past him, bumping into his shoulder as you did. 

He still followed you. “I’m not trying to make you feel sorry for me - shit, Henderson- ” you froze as Steve’s stupidly large hand wrapped around your wrist. “I’m really sorry, okay? You’re right, I wasn’t respecting you like I should’ve been. It was shitty of me to show up so late.” 

It surprised you. His apology sounded sincere. You turned around to face him, and Steve let go of you. “Well . . . I’m glad you’re self aware enough to know that was shitty.” You said, crossing your arms over your chest. “Other girls may let you treat them like that, but I’m not Harrington. I’m not going to do all the work because you . . . Flutter your eyelashes at me or something.” 

Steve grinned, raising an eyebrow at you. “Flutter my eyelashes?” 

You felt heat rush to your face, but tried to brush it off. “I’m serious.” 

“Right. Right. Sorry.” He said. “No fluttering of eyelashes, got it.” 

Taking a deep breath, you decided to lay down the rules. “I know we don’t get along, but for the sake of this project we need to work together. Which means I won’t call out all the ways you’re a douchebag, and you’ve got to give me at least a little respect.” 

Steve stared at you, and you couldn’t help but move restlessly underneath his gaze. There was something about his eyes that was just . . . Intense. “That sounds fair.” He said, leaning against the doorframe. “Do you still want to work tonight, or do you want me to leave?” 

Honestly, you were kind of surprised he was asking. It was almost . . . Considerate. “I - uh, I guess we can go ahead and work tonight. It’s not like I’d be going to bed any time soon anyway.” 

His smile was back now as he spoke. “All right boss, lead the way.” 

You rolled your eyes, but there was a small smile on your face as you led him to the kitchen. 

————————

“Can I be honest with you Harrington?” 

Papers were scattered around the table in every direction, no longer a neat stack like how you guys had started, but you found yourself not minding. Steve was bent over a sheet of construction paper, drawing lines with a ruler, biting his bottom lip in concentration as he tried to get the line perfect. At your words though, he looked up at you, raising his eyebrows. “You mean that’s not what you’ve been doing the entire time?” 

You rolled your eyes. “I didn’t expect you to actually try. I’ve seen how you are in class.” For years you had watched Steve show up late, eat snacks, and flirt with girls instead of paying attention. You hadn’t expected it to be any different this time. 

He bent back over the paper again, starting a new line. “Yeah, well, maybe I just wanted to prove to you I’m not the idiot you think I am.” 

It wasn’t often that you regretted words that you said, but that might have been one of the times. You thought back to what he said earlier about his dad. How many people did Steve Harrington have in his life that thought he was stupid? It made you uncomfortable that you were now on that list. “Maybe, ‘makes idiotic choices’ is what I should have said instead. You know, like, being friends with Tommy and Carol.” 

Steve didn’t say anything for a moment, and you thought you might’ve hit a nerve. “Aren’t you the one who’s friends with the drug dealer? How long before you think Munson’s locked up?” 

Yep. You had hit a nerve, and now he had to. “Yeah, well at least Eddie’s not fucking miserable like those two.” You said, crossing your arms over your chest. “He cares about people. He took me in when I had no one because everyone thought I was weird for reading fantasy books and not talking to anyone. That sound like something Tommy and Carol would do?” 

Steve slammed down the pencil and ruler. “People don’t think you’re weird because you read. People think you’re a bitch who goes around sleeping with people all the time because someone caught you coming out of a room at a party right before Jason Carver.” 

“Jason Carver cornered me in that room while I was waiting on Eddie, tried to get me to make out with him, got pissed when I wouldn’t, then went outside and spread the rumor that I was a whore.” You hissed. You didn’t know why the words left your lips. The only person who knew about that night was Eddie, and now for some reason Steve Harrington. Oh well. It wasn’t as if you could take them back. “And everyone believed him without a second thought, didn’t they?” You said, leaning back in your chair. “Including you.” 

Steve sat in stunned silence, his eyes never leaving your face. You thought you might have broken him when he finally spoke. “Why didn’t you say anything?” 

You shrugged. “He didn’t actually do anything. He scared me for a second by grabbing my arm then I kicked him in the balls so hard he passed out. I guess wounding his ego and dick at the same time must have been too much.” 

“You should’ve kicked him harder.” 

“Probably.” 

Silence filled the room again, neither one of you quite knowing what to say after your confession. You didn’t regret saying it. It was almost a relief to know that someone else knew you weren’t what everyone thought, even if it was Steve Harrington. He was still looking at you, his eyes tracing over your face as if seeing you in a new light. Then he glanced down at the paper in front of you and smirked. “That’s the shittiest flower I’ve ever seen.” 

“What?” You glanced down at your own paper, a frown appearing on your face. Okay, so maybe your circles were a little lopsided, and your stems kinda thick, but it wasn’t that bad. “No it isn’t!” 

“Oh, it is. I’m just glad to find something you can’t do.” 

You let out a laugh that turned into a snort. Your eyes widened, and you covered your mouth as heat rushed to your face. 

Steve’s smile grew in delight. “What the hell was that? Do you have pigs in here somewhere?”

“You’re never to repeat that you heard that, do you hear me Harrington?” You threatened. 

“Will it make up for me making the idiotic decision to believe those rumors about you?” He asked. 

Your heart did a funny thing then. Almost gave a jump, and for some stupid reason you felt your eyes get a little watery. “It’s a start.” 

————————

The next morning at school, you met Eddie by your locker. “So how was it?” He asked as soon as you saw him. 

How could you possibly answer him? “It was . . . Not as bad as it could have been I guess?” You said, starting to unlock your locker. “How about you? I hope Wayne didn’t keep you up so late you didn’t get finished with O’Donnell’s project.” You said, calling him out on his bullshit. 

Eddie grinned sheepishly at you. “Yeah well - What the hell is all that?” 

As soon as you opened your locker, at least ten sheets of folded up paper had fallen out. You bent to pick one up and read what it said. It turned out they all said the same thing. 

I will not be late. 

You looked up and spotted him a little ways down the hallway, waiting by Nancy Wheeler’s locker. When he saw you watching him, he gave you a salute. 

You smiled.

[nor-4]

Nsfw Alphabet ft. Mike Schmidt

Bad writing

A = Aftercare

He got everything ready cause this boy don't know how strong he is especially if he fucks his frustration out so he gets every thing ready. He will definitely make you coffee or just get you some water is if you ask, then hug you until you guys fall asleep.

B = Body part

Although he loves every part of your body he has this favoritism for your thighs, like it's multipurpose he can hold it while fucking you on missionary andd can be a pillow when you guys go to picnic!

What he loves for him is his arms like something about it looks attractive for him, probably because you love to hold it and compliment it.

C = Cum

You can't tell me he don't cum a lot. Before bursting his seed he always ask where do you want it. If he's too lazy he'll just cum in your stomach. It's on his system to ask if it's hot or how does his seed feels.

D = Dirty secrets

To my previous headcannon, he wants to fuck the attitude out of you. Like it makes him feel cocky knowing he takes control. He wants to invite you to his work and fuck you in the table he doesn't know why but something about risking it turns him on.

E = Experience

Actually you both lost your virginity to each other. He isn't experienced but he knows everything about sex. He knows how to make you cum easily by just his fingers, this man doesn't joke when it comes to knowledge on sex. He can make your girl cum than your playboy ass

F = Favorite position

He lovesss missionary, he loves to see your face while fucking you. He loves kisses so.. Andd he loves back shot, he wants matching back tattoos with you it turns him on. Something about caressing your back makes him insane.

G = Goofy

Not really he's serious when it comes to making out. But sometimes he cracks a small joke when the mood get so tense up, he love it when he see you chuckle. Come on this man needs happiness in his life let him be.

H = Hair

Not that much hairy but he trims it when he thinks it needs a little bit of cutting. For you well he doesn't care about hair okay, it's natural if you want to keep it okay if your comfortable with it. He loves em bushes bae dw.

I = Intimacy

He loves to grip your hips or waist when he fuck you in missionary. This man fucks like there's no tomorrow he hugs your waist, he loves putting hickeys on you especially your breast. He is sooo good at praising like he coos in your ears on how he much loves you.

J = Jack off

Doesn't really have a time to do it. If he does he just imagines things with you. Just the thought of you turns him on. He does it too when you're not in the mood to do intimate things cause you know he doesn't wanna push you.

K = Kink

He's into edging he love to see you cry just because your orgasm is declined. He also loves size difference he can't believe the strength he has, he can fuck you in the wall nd he is still be surprised.

L = Location

Mostly on his bedroom because abby could be roaming around somewhere, well sometimes if abby's at school he loves to fuck you in the kitchen. He loves to eat you out at the kitchen it hits something for him.

M = Motivation

You. Everything bout you turns him on, especially when you motherly cares for abby. It's awaking something in him. He can be too distracted on his work and still think about fucking you. It's like a daily routine for him when he's bored.

N = No

Something that might hurt you, like he likes rough sex but not that rough like your about to scream from getting hurt. He don't like bdsm something about it turns him off plus he remembers all his trauma yk.

O = Oral

He is more on giving, but he loves to recieve like you giving him head. He still loves it when he is the one giving you head, something about you makes him addicted. Like he wants to drown from your pussy.

P = Pace

He's more on slow and gentle. If he's frustrated he fucks rough. His pace is up to the atmosphere, you have two boyfriend. One who make love to you touching caressing your body and praising you and one is fucking you like an animal. Sometimes he fucks you rough when he wants to sleep tightly.

Q = Quickie

Mehhh he doesn't really like quickie. He wants long sensual make out not like fucking you as if it's the end of the world. Plus it makes him want more.

R = Risk

If you just want it. But seeing someone watching him fuck you turns him on, it's like his adrenaline rush is rising. He just want to take the risk when he feels cocky.

S = Stamina

Can only go to 2 to 3 rounds because he's a beat up minimum wage worker who works 24/7 so he doesn't really have that much energy. But like i said when he's frustrated he can probably go for 5 rounds. If you can handle it.

T = Toys

I dont think he's really up to toys but a vibrator is enough. Since he loves edging he will probably have a vibrator especially those vibrator thay you put in your panty that can be controlled by phone. He will love those.

U = Unfair

He loves it when you beg for him. He can leave you without continuing your orgasm just for you to beg him. Sometimes when he is bored he tends to talk about how you are a mess for him.

V = Volume

He is whiny if you are the one who takes control. He is a bit vocal like he moans, but he often talk about how good you are for him.

W = Wild Card

He wants you to sit on his face. What if you crush him? He will be the happiest man alive. He wants you to dominate him especially when he is a whining mess, he just want to see you being a bossy then be a mess once you ride his dick.

X = X-ray

This man has a fat dick for aroundd 5'8 inches. Pretty pink mushroom tip. He's gifted i wanna rail him.

Z = Zzz

He's not a fast asleep he loves to spend the time with you. He only sleeps when you are already comfortable and clean. If he's tired he will fall asleep fast but he will do something for you tomorrow but tonight hug him to sleep.

[cleolinda]

A narrative in links

I want you to hear "In the Hall of the Mountain King" in your head while you read this:

Backlash after comedian at Trump rally calls Puerto Rico 'island of garbage'

Racist jokes about Puerto Rico at rally bring anger and disgust: ‘Truly how the Trump party sees us’

Why Trump can’t pretend his rally’s anti-Puerto Rican racism was just a joke

If That Puerto Rico Joke Doesn’t Cost Trump, [running mate] JD Vance’s Reaction Will ("I think that we have to stop getting offended at every little thing in the United States of America, I’m just so over it")

Tony Hinchcliffe doubles down on racist Trump rally jokes despite backlash: ‘Change your tampon’

Trump’s Shock Comic Was Set to Call Harris a ‘C*nt’

‘F*** These Racists’: Geraldo Rivera Tears Into MAGA After Trump’s MSG Rally

Jennifer Lopez, Bad Bunny, Ricky Martin & More Amplify Kamala Harris After Trump Rally Comedian Trashes Puerto Rico

[GOP Speaker of the House Mike Johnson] fields questions from Latino voters about ‘stupid’ Puerto Rico joke

Trump’s Puerto Rico fallout is ‘spreading like wildfire’ in [swing state] Pennsylvania

Fallout from Florida Latinos fierce following racist jokes during former president’s NYC rally

Florida's Rick Scott [who is running for re-election] touts support for Puerto Rico after racist joke at Trump rally

Trump Rages at Fox News as His Allies Panic Over NYC Rally

Trump campaign struggles to contain Puerto Rico October surprise

It is absolutely sending me that this is what finally did it. To get everyone on the same page here, an "October surprise" in American politics is something unexpected that derails a political campaign at the last minute, right before Election Day in the U.S. (first Tuesday in November). Back in 2016, we thought it was the Access Hollywood "grab them by the pussy" tape, and then way too many people just shrugged and Trump won anyway, because the actual October surprise turned out to be FBI Director James Comey rocking up and announcing an investigation into Hillary Clinton's private email server. But Her Emails, etc.

So this year, of course, I and the rest of r/politics have been sitting here waiting for shit to go down, most likely re: Trump rather than Harris (I say as I knock on my wooden kitchen table), but what could he do that's any worse than what he's already done this year? Than what we already know of his past?

Apparently, everyone has decided it's this. It's a dude who is not even Trump getting up at the Madison Square Garden Nazis-In-America nostalgia rally Sunday night and telling shitty racist jokes. Not the one about "Latinos coming," not the one about Black people and watermelons, not even other things Hinchcliffe said in the same speech. It's not any number of heinous things various other speakers said (scroll down). No, it's

"There’s a lot going on. I don’t know if you know this but there’s literally a floating island of garbage in the middle of the ocean right now. I think it’s called Puerto Rico."

It's not thumbs up at Arlington Cemetery, it's not THEY'RE EATING THE DOGS, it's not "I wish I had generals like Hitler's" and all the other times Trump admired Nazis. It's this.

I mean, everyone is correct to be outraged about this, I'm glad that it's gained traction and more people than usual are actually shocked and politicians are panicking, and Puerto Ricans both on the island and the mainland have my deep I'm-sorry-sympathy that they have been insulted this way. But--maybe it's just the last-minute timing, but it is blowing my mind that THIS, finally, from a guy who isn't even Trump, is the October Surprise.

[pearlessance]

Locked Doors - Idle Threats [ii]

Series Summary — Joel has watch duty with Jackson’s twenty-year old, smart-mouthed brat and gets more than he bargained for.

Chapter Summary — You leave your front door unlocked. The devil invites himself in.

Pairing — Joel Miller/Reader

Warnings — Explicit sexual content MDNI, brat taming, age gap, mean!Joel, religious imagery and symbolism, catholic guilt

SERIES MASTERLIST

[crossposted to AO3]

In truth, Joel is glad to be rid of you.

Not because he didn’t enjoy himself, but because he’d enjoyed the night with you too much. The two of you had fallen into an easy, respectful energy for the remainder of your watch. 

Joel discovers you’re quite funny when he isn’t the butt of all your jokes. And he knows you’re beautiful, painfully so—but when you smile at him, truly smile, it lights up your whole face and ignites a warmth inside him he can’t explain, that he doesn’t even want to think about. 

So, yeah, it’s a bit of a relief when the next two watchmen take over and you go your separate ways. Joel sleeps real heavy that night, more relaxed than he’s been since he set foot in Jackson.

Until Tommy knocks on his door that afternoon, that is. The moment Joel opens it his brother asks, “What the hell did you do to her last night?”

Joel feels his anxiety spike. Tommy knows him better than anyone else, and he’s not sure why he thought your tryst in the tree blind would ever be kept secret. And he knows he shouldn’t lie, but he’s too embarrassed, too afraid of his brother’s judgment. So he shrugs and says, “We…had a conversation.”

“Conversation?” Tommy laughs and shakes his head, pushing into Joel's house. He sits at the kitchen table beside Ellie, who’s shoveling a bite of scrambled eggs into her mouth. “Nah. Nah, I don’t believe that.”

Hesitantly, Joel asks, “Why not?”

“That girl has been a pain in my ass every single day. Someone has a complaint about her, or she’s hollerin’ about something or other. Never does as she’s told—fights Maria and I on everything.” 

You listened to him real well last night. Joel resists the smirk that tugs on his lips.

Tommy continues. “So, I’m sure you can imagine my surprise when she comes knockin’ this morning asking Maria if she can take the rest of Mike’s shifts. After she threw a big tantrum about having to cover one of them.”

No. No. Joel’s mouth goes dry. 

He can’t spend another night with you. He can’t. He’s not strong enough.

Ellie’s brows furrow together as she looks between the two brothers. “Who?”

“Strawberry scone,” Joel supplies with a casual wave of his hand.

“Oh, my future wife,” Ellie corrects. Then she turns to Tommy with a scowl. “Be nice when you talk about her.”

“She ain’t nice,” he counters. 

Joel remembers how nice you’d been, begging him for mercy, begging for his hands, his mouth, his cock. How nice it sounded when you apologized to him, using that warm, wet tongue of yours as a weapon. He swallows. “We just talked. That’s all.”

Tommy eyes him suspiciously but doesn’t push the subject and Joel’s grateful for it. Instead, he says, “Yeah, well—maybe y'all can have a conversation about her giving Maria a break. She’s been back from that run for a month and she still won’t even talk to her. Maria’s tried, but she pretends she can’t hear or see her. Like she’s invisible.”

Ellie chuckles but quiets herself with another bite of eggs when Joel turns and scowls at her.

It’s a valid concern, Joel thinks. Maria and Tommy have been good to the people of Jackson, have been good to you. Given you a place to stay, a warm bed to sleep in, the protection of monitored walls. All in exchange for a little physical labor. 

Joel doesn’t know what happened on that run for Maria’s barbecue flavored chips, but he understands being angry. Complete and total silent treatment is a bit harsh, however. And for weeks at a time? It’s childish, absurd—bratty. He gives his brother a reassuring nod. “I’ll…see what I can do.”

Tommy thanks him, steals a forkful of Ellie’s eggs, and bolts out of the door as she yells after him. 

Once he’s gone and the noise has quieted, the panic begins to set in. 

He can’t be in there with you for another night. Joel knows he has to do something, find someone to cover his watch. Maybe Bonnie will be willing to switch him for a day or two. Just until Mike returns, until Joel can control his errant desires.

“I’ve got some stuff to get done today,” he tells Ellie. 

“Stuff?”

“Yeah, just…don’t go far,” he says, evading her question. “And don’t go alone, either. Stay with Dina.”

He half expects her to make some witty remark, but she must see something in him that stops her. Ellie nods slowly and asks, “Everything okay?”

No, it wasn’t. Not even close. But there’s no subtle way to explain his turmoil, no words to make her understand that Joel was currently at odds with himself and his morals. That perhaps he’d damned himself, damned you, all for a single night of perfect bliss. So he shrugs and says, “Fine.”

Bonnie’s house is a short walk from his. And when she opens the door, Joel can see her son lying on the couch in the living room. His cheeks are red and he’s got his thumb in his mouth, staring off into space. He can’t be older than four, and Joel begins to feel guilty before he can even say a word. “Joel? Everything alright?”

God, what was with people and that question today? Joel looks away from the little boy on the couch and instead at his mother, who has the same blonde curls. 

He has to ask, doesn’t he? He has to. This is about more than just his peace of mind. It’s about your safety. Safety from him. And you deserve that, after all. Being a brat doesn’t mean you deserve to be preyed upon by an older man. 

So, Joel swallows and forces the words out. “Hey, Bonnie. I was just wondering if maybe you could switch with me tonight. I’ll take your watch today if you’ll take the night shift.”

Please say yes. Please say yes. 

Her green eyes soften, and Joel knows the answer before she speaks. “Oh, I…I’m sorry, Joel. It’s just that Sammy is sick, and…and I feel bad enough being gone all afternoon, you know? And I don’t want to leave him during the night. You can understand, right?”

He nods quickly, not wanting to make more of a scene than he already has. “No, yeah, of course. Completely. I’m sorry I asked.”

They say their goodbyes, and Bonnie suggests that he ask Greg instead. 

But that thought unnerves him even more than being alone with you himself. 

Greg is older than Joel by almost ten years, pushing sixty-five. And he doesn’t think he’s that type of guy—but Joel didn’t think he was that type of guy until he’d been left alone with you, either. 

Maybe he’s wrong, though. Maybe Greg has more morality. Maybe he’s not as bad a man as Joel. Maybe he has more resistance to the forbidden fruit.

Maybe you’re safer with him.

It’s because of that particular thought Joel winds up on Greg’s porch.

And Greg gives him that same sympathetic look Bonnie did, and Joel’s back to square one. “I’ll ask around, though,” Greg says. “See if anyone else is willing.”

Joel thanks him, and busies himself in the stables, in the armory, in anything that keeps his hands busy and his thoughts far from you. He sends a prayer to whatever god may exist, hoping Greg will find him and let him know someone is interested in his shift. Not that Joel would be deserving of forgiveness nor a favor— especially from anyone worth praying to—but it doesn’t hurt to try. 

Nightfall comes too soon and eventually, he decides that maybe it’s better to seek out the source of the problem. To tear out the rot by the roots.

You answer the door after the second knock. You’re leaning against the frame, wearing those jeans again—that dark wash denim that’s skin tight, a gentle stitch of gold down the seam of the pockets.

Joel wonders where you found them, wonders how it’s possible that he’s been reduced to finding so much sex appeal in a pair of jeans, for Christ’s sake. Your black t-shirt is cut into a low V shape, and your breasts are pushed up because of your bra, providing him with a view so tempting it hurts.

“I hear you’re trying to get rid of me,” you say, narrowing your eyes at him. “If you didn’t like me, the least you could do is say so. Kinda shitty I had to find out from Greg, of all people.” You turn away from him and walk inside, leaving the door wide open. 

It’s an invitation. But Joel hesitates, because he knows, he knows what happens when he’s alone with you. Knows just how far he’ll go, how much he wants it. He’s not sure if it’s desire or shame or excitement that coils around his spine, gripping tight.

But it’s rude, isn’t it, to refuse? It’s not like you’re doing anything to tempt him apart from existing. Joel can handle that, can’t he? He’ll just explain himself. Have a quick five minute conversation about why he needs to avoid you at all costs, why you cannot—cannot—be on watch duty with him for another day.

And then he’ll leave. Wipe his hands clean of the guilt, the sin, of you. 

Joel walks inside and closes the door behind him. “You need to tell Maria you can’t be on watch tonight,” he says. 

Your house is small but cozy, more personalized than the other homes in Jackson. Cluttered with things you no doubt picked up on some of your runs—framed photos of landscapes, whimsically shaped, half-burned candles, a crinkled and slightly water damaged band poster that reads The Bravery. The kitchen on his left is quaint, the counters occupied by stacks of old, worn books. There’s an old vase with a faded picture of a cat sitting on the stove, filled with mismatched utensils. A small, square table sits in the corner with two upholstered chairs and in front of one of them, a leather-bound journal sits with a pen beside it.

Joel suddenly, more than anything else, wants to know what’s in that journal. Thinks about sneaking in late at night to flip through it. It’s well loved, and he knows even from several feet away that inside of it is you. The parts you don’t share with others, the parts he desperately wants to unearth. 

“And why would I do that?” You follow his gaze and casually move to close the journal. You wrap the leather cord around it twice, pick up the pen, and toss both into an inconspicuous drawer.

“Because I said so,” Joel says sharply. He’s standing by the front door still, and his skin prickles as you close the distance. And for good measure, he adds, “Because you’re not feeling well. You’re sick.”

You’re standing so close now he can feel the heat of your skin, beckoning to him, pulling him in. You’re so magnetic that he doesn’t pull away when you grab his hand and place his palm against the side of your neck. “Does it feel like I have a fever?”

Feverish? No. Warm, soft, addictive? Yes. Joel can feel your pulse beneath his hand, strong and steady. He can feel himself losing the battle already. He pulls his hand away and closes it into a fist behind his back. “Stop,” he says. “We can’t do this.”

You snort but turn away to give him some much needed space. “You can’t, you mean.”

He steps forward on instinct and freezes. He can’t bring himself to retreat, but he has the strength still to keep from going to you, from seeking you out just to feel you in his hands. That has to be enough. Joel knows he needs to say what he has to say and leave, before his resistance withers into nothing. “People are already starting to talk.”

“People,” you mock. “You mean your brother?” When he doesn’t deny it, you continue. “Let me guess—he said something this morning, asking about what we did all because I said I would pick up a couple of extra shifts.”

Joel doesn’t mention the other things Tommy said, about you being a pain in his ass. Joel can relate to it. “He also said you’ve been blatantly ignoring Maria.”

“No fucking shit I’ve been ignoring her,” you snap. But your eyes widen as Joel’s whole body tightens, seeing the mistake. 

But he isn’t here for that. He’s not. If you’re going to be a foul-mouthed brat, so be it. It’s not his place to discipline you. It can’t be. “You need to give her a break. Maria’s done right by all of us.” 

“Why? Because you said so?” You laugh, and it’s a sick, maniacal sound that grates against his nerves. So different than the soft airy giggles he’d heard last night. “Cut the shit and be honest with yourself, Joel. You want me to be nice to Maria so you don’t have to hear Tommy bitch about me anymore and you want me off watch duty with you because you’re afraid of me.”

“Afraid? Of a little girl?” Joel thinks you're joking at first. But you’re not laughing anymore, and when he realizes you’re serious he lets out a long sigh of frustration. It releases the tension in his shoulders just enough to keep him from losing it. “You think you know everything, but you don’t.”

“Well I’m not wrong,” you say, brows raised. 

It’s the attitude that gets to him, the contempt. Joel can’t stand it. He wants to take you by the throat and force you up against the wall. But he doesn’t, using the last of his patience to keep his feet planted firmly on the welcome mat.

“It was so good,” you say, the cadence of your voice lowering to a near whisper. There’s a warmth in your eyes that makes his chest ache. “I know you felt it too. You can’t tell me you didn’t. And even if you did, I wouldn’t believe you. I don’t believe you, Joel.”

The sound of his name in your mouth is nearly his undoing. It’s so pretty, you’re so pretty. Joel swallows hard, suddenly aware that for all he defiled yesterday, he’s never kissed you. Not truly. 

He’s kissed your forehead, your cheek, has tasted your skin and the wetness between your thighs. But he’s never once tasted the inside of your mouth or felt your tongue against his.

Joel clenches his teeth. 

He can’t. He shouldn’t.

But he has to. Good fucking God, he has to.

Joel reaches you in two strides. Your eyes widen in fear, but the moment he places his hands on either side of your face you’re melting, becoming pliable material for him to manipulate. Joel tilts your head up and leans down, crushing his mouth to yours.

You’re gripping his brown leather jacket, trying to keep your balance. But he’s crowding you, forcing himself into your space, into your mouth, pressing himself against you as if every inch of separation pains him.

Joel thinks you taste like bad decisions, like pomegranate seeds and glowing apple slices, like poisonous peach pits, like something so tempting it’s forbidden for good reason. He bites in anyway, taking your bottom lip between his teeth and dragging it out. You moan at the deviation from heaven, and he grabs a fistful of your ass and drags you impossibly closer as a low growl leaves his throat. 

He knows you can feel his cock through his jeans, pressing hard against your belly, but Joel does his very best to ignore it as he licks every soft part of you. He wants to remember this, to savor it, because he promises himself it’ll be the last time he ever takes advantage of you.

When he pulls away, Joel’s gasping for air like he’s never been kissed before. Like this is his first time, like you’re his first. It’s certainly the only time it’s ever been like this, heavy and weighted, hot and desperate and sacrilegious.

Your eyes are glassy and beautiful as you look up at him, fingers still clutched in his jacket. “You’re afraid of me, Joel,” you repeat, snaking a hand between you and rubbing his cock, squeezing softly over the denim. “You’re afraid of how good this feels because you’ve never been able to hold onto anything good in your entire life.”

And, distracted by the soft feel of your mouth, by your hand, he’s able to listen. To rid himself of guilt, of shame, truly hearing you. Joel silently wonders if you’ve been the conductor of this mess all along, if you’ve somehow seen behind the scenes, if you are, impossibly, the one who’s manipulated him. Because how else would you be able to rip those razor-sharp truths out of him? Truths he’s never faced, truths he’s never planned to. 

“It slips through your fingers every time, like smoke,” you say. 

Joel can’t pull himself away, can’t reestablish that distance he so carelessly erased. You feel too good, touching him, sighing softly between words as if he were the one touching you.

“And so you’ll push me away, so far that you can forget whatever it is you feel for me. And it’ll work. For a little while, anyway.” You rise to your tiptoes, swollen lips a breath away from his ear. “But one day you’ll be laying in bed with some lovely, soft spoken, age-appropriate woman, and you’ll look over at her and you’ll imagine me in her place. And I think you’ll miss bossing me around, and teaching me how to behave for you, and how good it feels to be inside of me.” His cock throbs in his jeans, and he feels you smile against his skin. “I think you’ll miss me real bad, Joel Miller.”

The picture you paint is a dreary one, and it leaves Joel cold. Even colder when you finally step back and he can’t feel the warmth of your skin anymore, the heat of your breath. But he doesn’t say that, because this feels like a goodbye—the goodbye he came here for. Joel steels himself, pushing that God-forsaken image far from his brain. “Tell Maria you’re sick,” he orders. 

And then he’s leaving, and it hurts to slam the door behind him, but he does it.

For the first time in days, Joel feels a drop of redemption trickle back into his bloodstream. 

Thankfully, you don’t show up to the tree blind to relieve Greg and Bonnie. But no one else does either, and Joel knows that you never even attempted to speak to Maria. A last-ditch effort at defiance. 

When they ask about you, he lies easily and says, “She’s running a little behind. Go on home, you’ll probably pass her on the way.” 

And they do as he suggests, leaving Joel in the tree blind alone with his thoughts. 

It’s almost as dangerous as being alone with you, because your words echo in his brain. I think you’ll miss me real bad, Joel Miller. 

He will. He does. Already, he misses the way your body feels against his. He misses the taste of your soft tongue. He misses your sweet laughter and carefree demeanor. He misses the innocence in your eyes when you look up at him like he has all the answers. Joel wants to give them to you, wants to take care of you. Wants to make you feel good, to protect you, to keep you safe. 

But you’re right. Goddamnit, you’re right. He is afraid of you. Terrified, in fact—because it could so easily turn into more than just physical need, more than just sinful desire. That one day you spoke into existence could come and he’d miss more than how it feels to be inside you, he’ll just miss you.

Joel knows how dangerous that is. It’s bad enough he’s gotta worry about Tommy and Ellie. Why would he want to add another name to that list? Another person he’d die for, another person he’d kill for.

It’s no good. He’s no good. 

Joel feels the ghost of your mouth against his and can’t resist pressing his knuckles to his lips, hoping to cement your DNA there so he can keep the lingering taste of you forever. 

But if not him, who else will take care of you? It’s dangerous outside these walls.

It’s only then he remembers his conversation with Tommy and Maria, who wouldn’t let Joel be on watch alone. Yet they let you go on runs alone, and often. 

The realization has his blood boiling.

Because if not him, then who? Some other, older man? Someone capable of enduring your fury, your foolishness, of knowing when to have a heavy hand and when to touch you softly? No. 

Fuck no. 

By the time his shift is over and the next two patrolmen come to relieve him, Joel knows right where he’s headed. They ask him where you went, if you ever showed up—and he covers for you. Saying, “I cut her loose early so she could get some sleep.” 

At first, he’s not sure why there’s an innate desire within him to lie for you, to keep you safe from ridicule or consequence. 

But as he’s walking to that white house on the corner of the street, Joel realizes that it’s because he doesn’t want anyone else to punish you—ever.

That’s his job.

And, Christ, does he have plans for you. 

Joel freezes a second before he bangs his fist against the door. The night is quiet and cold. The air is still. And, through the thin walls, he can hear you.

Can hear those sweet, soft moans. It’s faint, but it’s there. And Joel knows because those cute little sounds are forever embedded in his memory. 

All the blood in his brain rushes south at the image his mind produces. He can almost see you; sprawled out on your bed, legs parted with your hand between your thighs. He wonders what you’re thinking about and selfishly hopes it’s him. 

His hand shakes as he lowers it and reaches for the doorknob. You wouldn’t be so stupid, would you? 

The question is quickly answered when he twists the handle and encounters no resistance. Joel suddenly thinks of a quote his old, southern pastor once told him when he was a kid. Fittingly enough, he’d used it in a sermon about abstinence. 

Temptation is the devil looking through the keyhole. Yielding is opening the door and inviting him in.

But what is Joel to do when the devil leaves the door unlocked and wide open with a bratty little girl on the other side of it? How is he supposed to resist the forbidden fruit knowing just how sweet it tastes? 

He just can’t help himself. 

Joel eases his way inside, carefully closing the door behind him. He shrugs off his jacket and flannel, laying it over the back of the worn leather couch as if he belongs here. Your house is dark, but he’s able to follow the sound of your whimpering down the hallway. He pushes your bedroom door open as silently as he can—and what he finds is somehow a million times better than what he’d imagined.

You’re sitting in the center of your bed, straddling a pillow that’s folded in half between your legs. You’re facing the doorway, head tilted back and eyes closed in euphoria. Joel can see everything from here. The curtain over the window is open, the moonlight casting a purplish hue over your soft skin. 

His whole body tenses up as he watches you, eyes stuck on the wet spot between your legs. Joel almost doesn’t believe you’re real, nearly convinces himself you’re some sort of backlit, demonic little thing. Sent to him by the devil himself to ensure his damnation. As if it somehow wasn’t already a guaranteed thing, because Joel doesn’t think he’s ever been this hard in his life, watching you desperately try to get yourself off.

You tilt your hips back and forth, moaning at the friction. The sounds you make are so beautiful, and Joel is thankful at this moment that you have little consideration for others. Because you’re moaning and whimpering loud enough that you don’t hear the wooden floor creak beneath his feet as he closes the space. 

In a sick, sinister way, Joel enjoys the fact that he’s watching you, so close he could reach out and touch you, and you have no idea. Pretty, stupid little girl. Joel is a bad man, you know. Real bad. And he could do whatever he wanted to you right now. Could cover your mouth with his hand so you can’t scream, could force you to your knees and have his way with you.

You let out a sweet sounding gasp, and Joel knows you’re close, nearly there. He would bet your clit is throbbing against your pillow, pussy just aching to be filled.

More than anything, more than teaching you how dangerous it is to leave your doors unlocked in the dead of night, Joel wants to help you. Wants to make you feel good. Wants to show you that yeah, one day he may be lying next to another woman thinking of you, but he will be the only man to ever satisfy your sadistic cravings. No one will ever be able to touch you again and make you feel as good as he does. 

He wraps his hand around your ankle and squeezes, anticipating the terrified cry you make in response. Joel holds tight, wrapping the other hand around your calf and pulling you to the edge of the bed. 

But not before you reach behind, pulling a serrated sawback knife from beneath the sheets. It’s clutched tight between your fingers as you hold it towards him. Your frightened eyes soften as recognition comes. He can hear your breathing settle, but your chest is still heaving. He doesn’t think you notice as his hands begin to slide up your legs, over the softness of your thighs. “Joel? What are you doing? Did you break into my house?”

There isn’t a single trace of alarm in your voice anymore, even though you’re still pointing that knife at him. “Didn’t have to,” he says, completely unfocused on the point of the weapon. Joel leans forward, running his hands over the swell of your hips, your ribs. He takes both breasts in his hands, unable to hold back the groan at the heavy feel of them. 

“I thought,” you swallow hard, inhaling a ragged breath. “I thought…you said—”

“I know what I said.” Joel takes the knife from your hand with ease and lays it on the battered nightstand. And the second he’s no longer under threat, he forces your back against the mattress and crawls between your legs, pulling them up over his hips. 

He pushes his hard cock against you, the denim of his jeans rough against your bare, sensitive skin. He watches the way you immediately soak the fabric, evidence of your near-release. You prop yourself up on your elbows, brows knitted together, the cutest little pout on your lips. “Wait,” you say, and he does. “I just…I don’t understand.”

Joel sees the concern etched on your face and thinks you’ve never looked so vulnerable in front of him as your eyes search for an explanation. He doesn’t have one that makes sense, that justifies his being here, justifies his hands as they roam freely over your skin. He pushes his hand through your hair, gently scratching your scalp. “You don’t have anyone to take care of you,” he mutters. “I’m gonna keep you safe, baby. Real safe.” 

“I don’t need anyone to take care of me,” you argue. “I can keep myself safe just fine.” He twists his hand in your hair, pulling lightly. His free hand comes between you, and Joel forces you to watch as he runs his thumb through your folds, spreading you open.

He doesn’t reply to your proclamation because he doesn’t believe it and he doesn’t think you do, either. He speaks as he circles your clit with the pad of his thumb softly. “But I gotta keep you safe from me, too, sweetheart. Can’t let an old man touch you like this. You’re just a little girl.”

Your back arches, pushing against his hand. You’re grinding against his cock over his jeans, and Joel can feel himself leaking at the warmth of you. You breathe his name, begging for more, begging for him like he knew you would.

Joel slides his thumb down further, smirking at the groan you let out as he pushes it inside you. “Precious little thing,” he whispers to himself. He switches his thumb for his middle finger, turning his hand palm up so he can press hard on that sweet spot inside of you. Your legs immediately start to tremble around him, and Joel smiles to himself knowing he’s barely touched you and already he’s accomplished what he set out to do. “I know, baby,” he says. “No one else can make you feel this good, huh? Not that pillow, not your hands, no other man but me.”

He releases his hold on your hair, letting you relax against the mattress. Your spine is still arched at the base, allowing him easy access to where you want him most. When he slips another thick finger inside of you, your hands clutch the sheets and your pleading gets a whole lot more convincing. “Joel, please—please just… mmm, Oh, God—”

Even though they burn his throat, Joel forces the words out before he loses the courage. “This is the last time, pretty girl. The last time I’ll ever touch you, okay? I promise. Gotta keep you safe…startin’ tomorrow.”

He almost wonders if you heard him, so lost in your satisfaction as he fucks you with his fingers. But then you lean forward, pulling eagerly at his leather belt, and he hears you say, “Liar.”

Joel knows you don’t believe him, but it’s true. He just needs to get it out of his system—to be inside of you knowing it’s the last time so he can savor it properly. To memorize it so he never forgets. He watches, enraptured, as you unbuckle his belt. Your hands are so much smaller than his, trembling lightly as you pull his cock out. He chuckles darkly as you lick your lips and hurry to line him up at your entrance. His middle and index fingers are still buried deep inside of you, hooked upwards right where you need him. “You want it now, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” you say so quickly he laughs. “Please, Joel, please.”

With his free hand, he knocks yours away and presses his tip into you between his fingers. “Right now, huh? So fuckin’ needy, can’t wait one more minute. Just wanna be so full’a me you’re beggin’ for it, s’that it?”

He inches in further, leaving his fingers inside of you, watching the glorious stretch it makes, relishing in the whine you let out in response. 

“Wait,” you say, fear laced in your voice as you realize his intent. Joel does—giving you the option to deny him, to say no. But you don’t. Of course you don’t. Instead, when your pretty eyes meet his dark gaze, something heated and curious appears on your face. 

Joel sinks into you further, even as you toss your head back and force the air from your lungs in a ragged exhale. He knows it must feel so full —because he can feel every inch of you, squeezing him like a vice. 

“It hurts,” you hiss, wincing. “Joel, I can’t—!”

“Yeah you can, baby,” he encourages. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” Joel pulls back out slowly, cock glistening with your slick. “You say it hurts but this pretty pussy is just cryin’ for me, little girl.” When he pushes in again, stretching you slowly, he lets out a low groan at the feeling and doesn’t stop until he’s all the way in.

“Oh my God,” you whine, hooking your legs around his back. “It’s too much.”

“Is it?” Joel mocks, rocking his hips slowly. He can feel your body react immediately—walls fluttering around him with every movement. You’re a trembling, moaning mess, making an even bigger one all over the dark hair above his cock.

A single tear falls from the corner of your eye, and Joel leans forward to kiss it away. He presses his lips to your forehead and gently strokes the side of your face with his free hand. “Talk to me, sweetheart.”

“I…it’s just,” you pause to let out an elated sigh as he thrusts in deep. “If this is the last time you—ohh, God, Joel—please, you’re gonna make me—”

“I know, little girl, I know,” he says. Joel thrusts his hips forward hard—once, twice, until your legs are shaking so bad he knows you’re one stroke away from combustion. And then he pulls his cock out of you, lips curling into a smirk at the whine you give in protest. “S’okay, baby, don't cry,” he promises, dropping to his knees and pulling you to the edge of the bed. “Wanna taste it, sweetheart.”

His mouth is bliss when he puts it on you, licking long, gentle strokes through your heat with his soft tongue. He uses both hands to spread your legs wide, holding you still even as you squirm, and his chest rumbles in satisfaction as he drinks you in. Joel wraps his lips around your clit and focuses his efforts there. His heart is pounding in his chest, and he groans against you as you tangle your hands in his hair, pulling him closer, grinding against his face as if you can’t get enough. 

Joel understands. He really, really does. Because even when your body pulls tight and you moan his name over and over, soaking his facial hair, his chin, his mouth—it’s not enough. He wants more, wants you impossibly closer, wants to hear nothing but your moans for the rest of his life. 

He doesn’t stop until your muscles begin to relax and your breathing slows. He releases your clit from between his lips and you shudder as he licks through your folds, devouring any trace of your orgasm left behind. The urge to praise your behavior rises in him, wanting to tell you how good you’re being, how perfect. 

But this—tonight—is about Joel. It’s a selfish act, his taking you. It’s for his memory, for his satisfaction. Which is why, when he crawls back over you, Joel rests his calloused hand against your neck and crushes his mouth to yours. You open up immediately, giving him an all access pass to your tongue, moaning at his reverence. You taste so fucking sweet, and Joel knows just how easy it would be to find obsession in kissing you.

With his free hand, he reaches down and pushes his jeans off the rest of the way, the metal belt buckle clanging to the floor. He pulls away for only a second to grip the back of his shirt collar and pull it over his head, discarding it quickly. 

And then he’s turning you over, grabbing your hips, and forcing them up. The sight of you with your face against the mattress and your arms braced in front of you, the enticing slope of your spine, your glistening, needy pussy—it’s almost too much. Joel’s cock throbs painfully, desperate to be inside of you. He runs his hands over the perfect globes of your ass, spreading you open. “You’re so pretty, baby. The cutest little girl I’ve ever seen,” he says, and your whimpering in response to his compliments is so cute it warms his heart.

You arch back for him, and Joel can’t resist his grin. You’re just so eager.

He gathers the spit in his mouth and lets it drip between your cheeks, watching it slide down your pussy until it reaches your clit. He lets out a sigh of relief as he pushes back into you, can’t resist leaning over and pressing sweet kisses to your spine. He won’t last long—not like this, buried so deep inside you there’s no end of you or beginning of him.

“Tell me how it feels,” he says. Joel’s thrusts are punishing and relentless. He slams into you, holding you down against the mattress with one hand and using the other to paw at your ass, pulling you back onto him every time he retreats. “This what you wanted? Hm? Wanted to be bent over and fucked like a whore, huh?”

“Yes,” you choke out. “It feels so good, Joel—fuck—”

His hips still. He fists his hand in your hair and pulls you up, back against his chest. His mouth is at your temple as he asks, “What was that?”

“I’m sorry—don't stop, don’t stop, please,” you beg. The words are desolate and frantic, but there’s a knowing, arrogant smirk on your face. 

You’re playing him, Joel suddenly realizes. Playing into his games to get what you want—you clever, bratty little girl. His palms twitch with the urge to force you into true submission instead of whatever this forgery of it is.

But he can’t do that in a single night. And so Joel decides to give you exactly what you want instead.

He wraps one hand around your throat, squeezing lightly as he presses your head to his shoulder. He uses the other to reach down and stroke your clit in soft circles, thrusting up into you all the while. “Aw, baby,” he tuts. “Look at you. You’re so fuckin’ easy. Doin’ whatever I want you to. Lettin’ me fuck you however I want.”

“Oh God, oh God, oh God—Joel I’m gonna—!”

Joel thrusts harder, circles your clit faster. Arousal pools low in his belly at the delicious way you say his name. “Give it to me, baby. Yeah, there you go. Mmhm, thaaaat’s it.” You squeeze him hard, and Joel has to close his eyes to hold himself back. 

Your moans are music to his ears, pretty little sounds that urge him on. His hand doesn’t stop, his hips don’t slow, and his mouth never quiets, filthy words sending you to immeasurable heights.

“Pussy was fuckin’ made for me. It’s soakin’ me so good. This what you like? Hm? Like to be fucked real rough, treated like a fuckin’ slut. That’s what makes it all wet, baby? Don’t you worry. I’ll give you everything you need, exactly what you’re beggin’ me for.” Joel feels your muscles go slack, but his hand on your neck only tightens, holding you upright. He doesn’t stop even as your hands fly to his between your legs, pulling at his wrist, needing reprieve.

“Joel, oh my God, please—I’m finished, I’m finished—!”

He presses your clit harder, fucks you deeper. “Ain’t this what you wanted? Didn’t want me to stop. Real sensitive, isn’t it?” His tone is so mocking, so mean. “Gonna fuck you till it hurts, pretty girl.”

You’re writhing in his hands, the cutest little tremors rocking through you. “It does, it does, Joel, please, it hurts so bad,” you cry. He kisses your tears away, savoring the taste of saltwater on his tongue. 

“Tell me who’s pussy this is,” he whispers in your ear. “Tell me baby, who’s pretty pussy is it? Huh?”

No answer comes right away. You’re too fucked out, fucked stupid, thoughts emptying out of your head. But Joel is there, right at the precipice, and he has to hear it before he follows you.

“C’mon little girl, use your words. Tell me,” he gently urges.

“Yours! It’s yours, I swear, Joel, fuck, fuck—!”

He pulls out of you just in time to spill his come onto your back, his cock sliding against your ass. Joel feels satisfaction down to his bones, knows that it’ll be easier to resist you now that he’s succumbed to his indulgences.

But as the euphoria fades, the guilt slowly starts to seep in. Joel lays you gently against the mattress, chest heaving.

“Don’t move,” he says. And then he’s leaving your room, picking up his flannel from the back of the couch. When he returns, he wipes away the mess he made, cleans up the lingering wetness between your legs.

While you climb up the bed and slide your shaky limbs beneath the thick comforter, Joel starts to pull his clothes back on. When he’s dressed in his boxers and t-shirt you ask, “Joel? Can you…can you stay? Just for a little bit?”

Your voice is so timid, so mousy, as if you’re embarrassed to even ask. He’s never heard you like this before. It tugs on his heartstrings, makes him feel the beginnings of exactly what he’s been trying so hard to avoid. 

That feeling chokes him, makes him feel covered in sin. Because you’re so young. So young that Joel should know better. He does know better. He’s just really, really bad at resisting temptation. Astronomically bad, in fact. And he doesn’t want to hurt you—truly, he doesn’t. Despite all he’s done and all he’s said, Joel has your best interest in mind. And he has no place there.

But, fuck, he wishes he did. 

Words don’t come easily to him. They never have. Especially when he has so much to say. “‘Course,” is all he manages.

Joel climbs in bed next to you, shoulders relaxing for what feels like the first time in a very long time as he pulls you close. He wraps his arms around your shoulders, rests his cheek against the top of your head. He’s so warm, like a big cocoon of heat and safety. 

The silence stretches on. And he thinks you may have fallen asleep already. But before you do, he says into the dark, “I didn’t mean it, you know. All the…the stuff I said. I don’t think you’re…”

You lift your head, turning those spellbinding eyes on him. He doesn’t know what to expect, but it certainly isn’t for you to give him an award-winning smile and say, “Good to know Joel Miller doesn’t think I’m an actual whore. If he did, whatever would I do?”

He doesn’t pick up on your sarcasm right away. And you must see something on his face that’s real amusing—because you burst into a fit of girlish giggles and Joel can’t help but mirror your grin. 

“I’m kidding,” you say. And then you lean up and press a chaste kiss to his jaw. “Goodnight, Joel. You can let yourself out when you’re ready.” 

He waits until you fall asleep, until your breathing evens out and you turn away from him on your side. Joel gathers his things quietly and leaves through the front door. 

This time, he locks it up tight.

[part one] [part three]

[chaniceroses]

Bad Boys Ride or Die (Armando x Reader): Part One

Another day... another morning. Time seems to be passing you by without allowing you to catch up and you feel as if your life is slowly running its course. It’s been about an hour since you have woken up but since the sun is always aligned with your window before work, that’s how you knew it was time to get up and get ready. The birds chirping, neighbors mowing their yard and arguing. A continuous cycle that you sometimes wish would end. You laid there in your soft, silky sheet until you heard a knock at your door. Getting up, putting on your cheetah print robe, you slipped on your house shoes and walked over to your door.

“Who is it?” You asked, holding on to the door knob.

“It’s us, who else would it be?”, a familiar voice answered with a slight chuckle.

You sighed while unlocking the door, opening it to see two black males standing there making eye-contact. They were the ones “training” you for the detective spot.

“What do you guys want? You know this can’t be an everyday routine, right?”You laughed walking away towards your open kitchen. 

“Make sure you shut my door and lock it, I don’t need anyone else barging in.” You continued leaning against your counter-table.

“Get used to it y/n. Since we are training you, and you are going to be with us all of the time…we might as well hang over each other's houses and be friends.”,Mike answered taking a seat

“Mike, we haven’t done any training”. She’s basically a tag-along.” Marcus replied looking through his phone.

“Tag-along? Please don’t get me started..”, you scoffed looking at Marcus and then at Mike.

You stared into Mike’s dark brown eyes, while examining his body features. Mike Lowery is his name, a tall light-skinned black male with a goatee mustache, smooth skin-texture, soft plump lips, ears that kind of sticks out with a tiny earring that brings out his face. 

“Imma guess that you like what you see.”Mike smiled, walking up towards you. He towered over you. It made you feel some kind of way but then again nothing at all. You turned to look at Marcus, to see him shaking his head into his hands. 

“Hmm…no.”, you laughed, patting him on his chest and then walking towards your bedroom. “Give me an hour and then we can head out.”

“Forty-five minutes since you just pulled that bullshit.”, Mike replied sitting down next to Marcus while he laughed .

“Two words for you…Married. Man.”, Marcus recalled pointing to the ring that was on his finger.

“You’re right.”

You could hear their conversation the whole time however, you didn’t pay attention because there were other things on your mind regarding your job. You know it isn’t time to choose just yet and to make a decision that could change your life and your relationship with your “partners”, however you also know that the sand is slowly slipping. 

Time had passed and you were heading out when you noticed your living room window was slightly opened, you stared at it for a moment then walked over to shut it and left. Before you knew it, you were in the backseat of Marcus’s and Mike’s car on the way to work. This was their way of getting to know you better, training you and “being generous”.  However, the ride to the precinct slowly had put you in a trance, reminding you of your last conversation between you and Captain Howard before he was murdered…

“Captain!!!” You yelled walking up towards him. “Anything for me to do, check up on, investigate ... .alone”, you whispered, moving your focus from him to Marcus and Mike. Conrad Howard was his name and he was the one who had partnered you with Marcus and Mike since he considered them to be“ experienced” in what they do.

“What are you talking about y/n?”he asked, raising one of his eyebrows while folding his arms.

“Heyyyyy! Captain… what do you think about-” before Mike could finish his sentence, he was interrupted by Howard putting his finger up to Mike.

“Did he just-”

“He did.”, Marcus sighed looking at Mike, you and then at Captain

“I was just wondering…if you had any files that needed to be looked at. Or maybe if I need to go somewhere and investigate…something.”, you pleaded.

“I have one file that needs to be-”

“No Cap that wouldn’t be necessary. We can go to the range and practice our shots and ride around to ensure that everyone is safe.”Mike interrupted, looking at you and Marcus.

“I actually have some files to look at myself, Mike.”, Marcus shrugged, walking off towards his desk.

You looked at Mike and watched as he looked at you, then at Captain and left.

“He’s a guy who loves action. He’ll be okay however, I want to talk to you though, Walk with me?”Howard suggested pointing towards the hallway.

“Sure what’s up?”, you asked, keeping up the pace that he was leading.

“I was wondering if you have decided what you wanted to do. With your position here. I know that you don’t need the training but you know it's “protocols”. It’s not me.”, he explained looking through the papers that he was carrying.

You were taking in what he was saying. You entered the portal about a month ago since you came from a different district, however the point still stands. Different opportunities have been thrown at you when it comes to your career and where you are right now, since you’ve been in the game for years. You would think it would be easier however now it has left you stuck. Leaving the precinct and becoming an international agent, stay and be a detective or retire and finally have a family with someone you love, decisions…decisions.

“I haven’t decided yet, so many options and personal things to think about.”, you replied, walking at the same rhythm as your boss.

“Listen…between you and I. Go with what you think is the worst.”, he replied, stopping in his tracks.

“Excuse me?” you replied confusingly tilting your head.

  “You wouldn’t be confused with what you wanted to do, if it was the best option. So go with what you are avoiding.”, he answered, looking up at you through his glasses.

“Not to take advice from you, noted.”, you thought, turning your focus towards the meeting that was happening down the hallway.

“Look, it may not make sense right now but later it will. Trust me.”, he reassured walking towards the room that a meeting was happening in.

“We’re a huge family here. Even if we hate each other’s guts. And with Mike and Marcus… They like you, and I can tell that they’ve somewhat gotten attached to you…which never happens. So ignore the things that are said especially with whatever comes out of Mike’s mouth.”, He continued pointing at you then walking into the meeting.

You watched as Captain walked into the meeting while waving the files that he was looking at earlier.

 “They like me.”, you mocked, while turning around. “They don’t even know me.” you laughed walking back towards your desk.

You must’ve gotten lost in your thoughts because when you looked forward. Marcus was turned around in his passenger seat looking right at you.

“I’m sorry?”, you asked, looking at Marcus to Mike and back at Marcus.

“What do you have planned today?”Marcus asked, looking at you with confusion across his face.

“Um, I have office work that I need to catch up on. I guess I can do that today.”, you replied, grabbing your phone from your purse.

“Office work?”Mike and Marcus replied in unison. Pure disgust crawled across their faces. You thought to yourself if you said something wrong, or maybe if it was your body expression. 

“You’re telling me that you don’t want to get in any action. Hurt people ... .fight!”Mike yelled, paying attention to the road while also taking quick glances at me through the rearview mirror.

“Mike, not everyone loves violence but y/n you should want to get some type of action..y’know. Office work. Really?”Marcus added, looking at the pedestrians going on about their day.

“I mean, if I can avoid it then yeah, I wouldn’t want to deal with it but of course sometimes it just comes my way.”, you replied scanning through downloads on your phone.

“See…I’m not the only person that attracts danger.”Mike laughed while looking at Marcus.

The rest of the ride was pretty chill besides Mike and Marcus arguing over past events with Mike dating Marcus' sister and operations that nearly blew up in their faces and their sex life. After what felt like forever,  you made it to the precinct and were instantly met by the loud voices of cops everywhere and a huge meeting happening down the hallway.

You, Marcus and Mike stared at each other confusingly, trying to figure out what was going on until a police officer came up to stop in front of you.

“They’ve been in there for hours, no one knows what’s going on.”, the cop said, staring at Marcus and Mike and then back down the hallway.

You stared at the people that were in there, making eye-contact with someone who was sitting at the head of the table.

“I’m sure it's nothing. I’m going to my desk.”, you replied, turning to Marcus and Mike and then leaving. You knew it wasn’t just “ nothing” because since Captain Howard was killed barely anyone has used that meeting room unless there was a hostage situation, or something between those lines. However, there were people from different districts in there and paper was scattered everywhere. Everyone seemed obnoxious and worried.

After a couple twists and turns down the hallway, you made it to your desk and flopped down onto your seat to be greeted by paperwork that needed to be looked through.

“What is all this?”, you whispered, opening one of the files and looking through them.

Before you knew it, all you saw was a stack of papers flying across your face onto the table. You looked up in shock to see Mike standing there with a smile across his face.

“You said you wanted files so there you go.”Mike laughed standing behind you.

“What do you want Mike? Because I am not about to look through all of those files, I'd rather be around Marcus all day and listen to him complain about his sex-life.”, you replied sitting down at your desk.

“That’s not what you said earlier.” Mike replied.

“How do you even know that? Mike, you've been telling y/n about my sex life?”, Marcus snapped getting up from his desk.

“Hell no. I-”

“I was in the back of the car. Earlier… when you guys picked me up after coming to my house which has been everyday for the last month.” you interrupted straightening up the files.

“Oh.” Marcus replied, covering his mouth. “I mean that shouldn’t even be a problem, Mike and I go over each other’s places all of the time.” he continued looking at Mike and then back at you.

“Hold up, how did you guys even know where I lived?” you asked leaning back into your chair while making direct eye-contact with them.

You watched as Mike leaned against your desk, gave Marcus a “really” look and then back at you.

“You’re smarter than that so we’re going to pretend you didn’t just ask that question…okay sweetie.”, he replied in disappointment while looking at you.

“That was a blonde moment.”, you thought to yourself. “Well guys thank you for bringing me here but I have work to do.”, you continued pushing Mike’s files to the side.

“I guess I'll grab these and put them back on my desk then.”, he stated grabbing them and putting them on top of his table.

Marcus and Mike caught the social cues that you were giving them and started analyzing the paperwork that was on their desk. They were cool people to be around. Fun and wild but also annoying and extremely obnoxious. They made you nervous due to not being able to know their next move. You scanned across the room and watched how every single person lived their lives. Some looked completely stressed, others looked as if they hadn't slept in months and the rest seemed to be taking each day slowly.

You brought your eyes towards Mike to see him typing things into his computer. You watched how his veins showed through his hands and the way his shirt compressed onto his body. You turned to look at Marcus with his eyes already piercing into yours. He was staring the whole time.

“What?”, you asked looking back at him. You watched as he shrugged you off and went back to work.

The rest of the morning was filled with everyone trying to figure out what the meeting is about, and flashbacks of your last conversation with Captain Howard. You’ve only been in Miami for a couple months now after leaving from a different precinct, and very little has occurred. This will be a long year.

[isa-loves-you]

♡Michael Schmidt has a crush♡

You were a sophomore in college, even though you live in an apartment off campus you still visited your mom almost everyday to check on her and to eat.

One night while you were visiting your mom she brought up the people who lived a couple of houses down "the young man knocked on my door this morning, asking if I would or If i knew someone who can babysit his sister at night". The reason why she brought this up is because you were looking for a job, with being a college student you needed the money and nights were perfect since you only have three classes a week. "He's a cutie, he would be perfect for you" you mom called out as she walked into the other room "cute doesn't matter I just need a job".

It's been almost a month since you started watching abby. She was the best kid you have ever babysat for, and she loved you which made your job so much easier.

"Hey y/n, can I ask you a question" "what is it abs" you stopped coloring to look at her. "Will you marry Mike, so you can live here and I can see you everyday"

You were a bit taken back by the question, how did she know that you liked mike?. "I'm really flattered that you want to see me everyday, but I don't think your brother likes me like that" you flashed her a smile to ease the tension but she just shrugged her shoulders and went back to drawing.

Ever since you started watching abby you found yourself infatuated with Mike. He wasn't a very open person but for some reason mike would open up to you, your mom was right he was a cutie.

It was almost midnight until you heard keys jingle and the front door unlock. Mike threw his keys on the small table by the door before looking for you. "Hey I made peanut butter stir fry, do you want me to make you a plate" you asked while already making a B-line to the kitchen."oh no it's okay, I can get it myself you already do almost everything here" you turned to Mike grabbing his arm and pulling him to the table "oh please making a plate is not going to hurt me, now please sit down".

Mike sat down and watched you shuffle around the kitchen to make him some to eat. Mike would never admit to himself but he liked having you around, he loved that abby adored you, sometimes he thimks she likes you more than him. He really wouldn't know what he would do without you, you now became his reason to get up everyday, too look nice, and too be happy.

After mike ate he walked you to your car while talking to you "I get my paycheck tomorrow so would it be okay if you stopped by after class to pick it up?" "Yeah no problem I'll stop by around 6". You stod there justing looking into his eyes, even though Michael's face told a story of a hard life, his eyes showed compassion. You would be a fool to not fall in love with him.

Once you left, Mike got ready for bed. He took the pills he always takes, replayed the tape he always plays, and looked at the Nebraska poster he always falls asleep looking at, but something was different. You were the only thing he could think about before the sleeping pills kicked in.

His dream started out like it always does, his mom spills her coke and tells him to keep track of Garrett. As soon as he sees Garrett in the back of a strangers Cadillac he takes Chace after it. No matter how hard he runs, he can never catche up with the mysterious car.

Mike stops to put his hands on his knees and catches his breath. Giggling. He hears Giggling.

Mike looks back up to now see a field of grass. This wasn't his dream, this is different from his normal nightmares. There in the field stood a happy abby, laughing holding hands with a happier y/n. Mike feels his heart pick up speed.

"Mike!" Abby ran towards her big brother with open arms. Mike catches his sister while y/n walked twords the two of them. He flashes a smile in y/n's direction "I've missed you mike", you kiss his cheak and hug the siblings tight . If he didn't known that this was a dream he would have thought that he died and went to heaven.

"Mike Wake up, I'm hungry". Abby jumps up and down on her brothers bed until she hears him grown,"okay okay abby give me a minute". He stands up and makes his way to the bathroom while abby returns back to the living room where she watches her cartoons and color.

Once mike sets abbys plate in front of her she immediately digs in. "Abby would you be okay if I started to date someone?", the young girl replies without even thinking about it "only if its y/n, she likes you". Mike looked at his sister shocked "well who else would it be, because I like her too" he says trying to play it like he knew this whole time.

It was almost 8 when you entered the house and abby ran up to give you a hug. "Hey hun I'm sorry my class ran later, I tried to call but no one answered" Mike came out of abbys bedroom with a relieved yet anxious look on his face. "Abby go to your room, I need to talk to y/n about grown up stuff" she looks at you with big eye to try to get you to let her stay "it will only take one minute, I'll come in there to say goodnight before I go".

Abby walked to her room with a sad and betrayed face. "Um here's you're payment, you'll be here tomorrow right" "Yeah, couldn't miss it for the world.".There it was, your smile. Oh how he couldn't wait any longer once he seen your million dollar smile.

"I know this might be sudden and very out of line, but could we maybe go out sometime"

You were surprised. "Yeah that sounds great, I would love to" you were stumbling over your words a little bit from being flustered. You two stood there with awkward smiles on your face, if you weren't in his house you would have been screaming from happiness.

"I better go say goodnight to abby before I go it's getting late" you stepped closer to Mike to get to the bedroom. "Y/n '' before you could respond to him, he placed his hand on the back of your ear and placed his lips upon yours.

It felt like a thousand minutes passed by in those five seconds, and you didn't want it to end. It wouldn't have ended if a certain someone spoke up.

"Yay I was right, y/n does like you mike!"

[mrrharper]

The Bro Zone Resort

Mike entered the resort’s reception area and looked around. It was early in the day so there weren’t that many people around. He walked up to the desk.

“Good morning, sir. How can I help you?” A large and muscular man, wearing a tank top with the resort’s logo proudly displayed on his chest, was standing on the other side of the desk and looking at Mike with a slight grin.

“Uhm, hi.” He slowly responded, not used to such a brawny dude talking to him. “I… I have a reservation under the name Mike Crawford for uhhh… the “Bro Tropical” package, I think.” The man behind the desk smiled and nodded, then typed something into his computer while Mike’s eyes wandered towards his broad chest. Then he finally noticed the name written on the tank top, above the left pectoral. Brock. A name very fitting the man, Mike thought.

“Okay, I have everything he need.” Brock spoke, throwing Mike out of his line of thought.

“Uhm, sorry what?” He put on a sheepish grin and Brock chuckled. 

“I have everything ready for you, Mike.” A brochure and a room card were put on the counter by Brock. “You’ll spend your week at the Bro Zone in Room 37F, and your resident for the length of your stay will be Cross, one of our best.” Mike thanked Brock, took all that was given to him and walked up to the elevator. He quickly got up to the third floor and started walking along the corridor, looking for his room. Fortunately, it wasn’t far from the elevator shaft and he unlocked the door with the card he got at the reception desk.

The first thing that hit him was the smell. The entire room reeked of sweat, cheep cologne and a few other things Mike could not name. As he got his bag into the room and closed the door behind him, he looked around and saw an absolute mess. Used jockstraps, shorts and tank tops were hanging from every piece of furniture. Dumbbells were scattered on the floor and every flat surface was covered by cans of coke and protein shake bottles. Mike closed his eyes and let the horrible smell fill his nostrils. God, he was in heaven, he thought.

Suddenly he heard some sounds coming from the bathroom and the door to it opened, revealing the main attraction of Mike’s stay at The Bro Zone. In front of him stood a 6’3 brute, every part of his body thick with muscles, with a few tattoos, a tank top clearly too small to cover all of this bulk, and sweaty gym shorts. Cross looked at Mike, scratched at his crotch and nodded.

“Sup, brah? You Mike?”

“Uhm, yeah.” He nodded awkwardly. Cross shrugged and walked around Mike, then settled on the couch and grabbed one of the half-empty protein shakers on the table next to him.

“Yer bedroom’s on the right” The gym bro moved his hand around, showing Mike what was where in their apartment. “There’s the bathroom, there’s the kitchen, there’s the entrance to the terrace with the pool.”

“Thanks” Mike smiled and walked towards his bedroom.

“Whatever, bro” He heard a grumbled response behind his back.

Mike went into his room and quickly unpacked. The sweaty stench was still very much there, but at least there was no random shit on the floor. As he sat down on the bed and took a deep breath, he smiled. He already knew he was gonna enjoy his stay at the resort.

Then he took out the brochure he got form Brock after coming in and flipped through the pages until he found the only actually important thing - the command that would allow him to control Cross. There were limitations to this of course, the gym bro wouldn’t do anything that would go against his core traits that Mike chose while booking his stay. But it was still a powerful weapon.

With the command memorized, Mike quickly changed into his swimming shorts, his hard on already visible, and left his room. He went back to the main area of the apartment and looked at Cross, who was watching something on TV, his sweaty armpits exposed for Mike to see.

“Bro code.” Mike said with an assertive tone. Cross turned towards him. He still had that arrogant expression on his face, but he was clearly listening. “Go get changed, we’re going swimming.”

“Sure bruh, whatever ya say dude.” The bro shrugged and stood up, then went outside. Mike had a giant grin on his face, he was so excited. 

When he went outside onto the terrace a minute later he saw Cross on the edge of the pool, wearing only a pair of briefs and sunglasses, his hunky body - and his hefty package - almost completely exposed. Mike slowly licked his lips and took a step forward.

[mxtantrights]

estoy rendido del amor de una mujer

a/n: he got me y'all don't look, I'm down bad. so basically this is just a one-parter. I don't know. If you ask for a part two or if I see y'all like it maybe I can whip something up. lets just see how it goes.

and for the sake of this story: Armando didn't kill the captain, and he's out on some 'good behavior' deal and helping Mike and Marcus with cases linked to the cartel.

Armando Aretas x fem!reader

SUMMER 2023, MIAMI FLORIDA

You almost got burned tonight. A rookie cop saw you, and the heat you were packing and tried to arrest you. After hastily explaining to him that you weren't packing for no reason, he let you go. But you had missed an important meeting.

It had taken you two years to get into German's inner circle. German is a big player in the Miami scene. He's not known for being a trusting person. But he does have a thing for high ranking positions of power and women. Deadly combination, which was what you used.

Although he's putting you on the back burner after tonight.

You sigh and slot your key into the lock. The lock doesn't turn. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up. You take out your knife, not wanting to make too much noise for your neighbors.

Slowly you ease into your apartment. You look around quickly. The four corners of the living room are clear. Then again they would be, anyone who was lurking inside could be seen from the window.

You had your knife up as you tip toe into the kitchen. And there you find them.

Mike and Marcus. And they brought company. Three other people you don't know in your house. Your undercover house. They are all looking above something on the table, too occupied with it to notice your arrival.

"Oh what fresh hell is this." you say.

They all turn around.

Mike smiles, "I was just telling the crew about you."

You hold up you hand, "Whatever the hell this is, is gonna fuck with my shit so you need to go. Now."

"Langauge! I thought I told you that last time." Marcus shouts.

You put down your knife with a sigh.

"I've been working this guy for two years, and if he sees two cops coming out of my apartment I'm done. I'll curse if I want to curse." you explain.

The tall blonde man raises his hand, like he's in school. Your eyebrows raise in surprise as you look at Mike and Marcus.

"Dorn, you don't have to-just say what you want say man." Mike says.

The man, Dorn, nods his head and then looks at you.

"We know you're after German. And we're not here to cause any trouble but we just needed to ask for any information you have on his right hand man." Dorn says.

He picks up a tablet and shows you a picture. You look at the screen and then back at Dorn.

"Do you know him?" the woman asks you.

"That's Nico, they call him Nissan. Well, called. German found out he was skimming some off the top and lets just say he's not on vacation right now." You answer.

Mike groans, "He was our only way in."

"Into what? What have the two of you old-timers got yourself into this time?" you ask.

Mike and Marcus start arguing loudly when you call them old. You snicker as you reach into your fridge and look for the last Corona you had. When you find the bottle is not inside, you close the fridge door.

Your eyes scan the counter top, to see if you maybe left it out. But you don't find it. So you look over at the table. You find it there, opened and empty. Next to the unknown male in your kitchen.

You meet his eyes.

"You drank my beer?" you ask, though it's not a question.

He smirks and tilts his head at you. "Problem?"

You roll your eyes. Then you walk over to Marcus and Mike.

"I've told you that he's dead, so he can't help you. Neither can I. Yo've gotta go now." you say.

"No no no, hold on. If Nico is burned then the only one who can help us is you. We just need some files-" he speaks but you cut him off.

Burned. Nico is burned. He was an informant? German definitely didn't know that. Or if he did, he is keeping it close to his chest. Christ.

"Do you want me dead?! German either killed Nico knowing or not knowing that he was an informant, but either way he's dead. If I go snooping around I can just drive myself over to the morgue." you argue.

"She's got a point." Dorn says.

You turn to him, "Thank you, tall International man."

"Dorn is not international, but that's not the point. The point is, you have an in. And we need you." Marcus says.

You sigh. They need an in when you're not exactly in German's good graces. Great. Not only would you have to work your way back but you'd have to work under pressure.

"He'll smell her from a mile away." the unknown man says.

Mike looks over at him, "She's very good at what she does."

"Cops tend to have a tell." The man shrugs.

"She's not a cop. She's a freelancer." Marcus answers.

"And the best one I know." Mike tags on.

No doubt buttering you up. You groan. Yes, you liked being called the best at what you do. And it wouldn't take much to get info. You have the access. You'll be under a close eye but you can pull it off.

"Tell me what you need and when you need it by." you say.

-

2 DAYS LATER, MIAMI

You pulled the straps of your dress tighter. No wonder needed them to be 'loose' for an accidental cleavage slip.

The compute chimed and altered you that the information was done copying. You ejected the thumb drive and stuffed it into the fake juul packaging. You closed all the windows on the computer and pressed restart.

Now came the hard part. You smoothed out your dress and walked over to the door. You checked between the blinds and made sure no one was coming this way.

It's not like you couldn't be in the office. If someone a bit lower than you saw you coming out you wouldn't be questioned. But if someone higher than you in ranking saw, they might be curious.

You exit the office and turn down the hallway. Taking the way with the most witnesses as possible, more people to account for you later on.

Into the blue room, where you pass the exotic dancers. Then though the 'greenery' room, where some workers are watering the plants. Finally through the purple room where the weapons are stored.

You make it all the way outside with no one stopping you.

With a sigh of relief you quick walk to your motorbike. You take out your helmet and put your bag into the storage underneath the seat. Without another thought you get on your bike and ride out of the compound.

You ride from South Miami to your apartment near Hollywood.

When you get there, you go around the back. Better to let everyone think you weren't here than you were. Who knows who could be watching you.

You come in from the window in your bedroom. And somehow it feels like you're intruding because here he is. In your room.

Mike told you about him, a little. Armando is his son. His son with the cartel woman he was seeing way back when that he didn't know he had. He's done things, bad things. But he's making up for it.

Making up for it by sitting at your computer in your room.

"Oje, get the hell out of here!" you shout.

He turns to you slowly. You hate his cocky attitude. You hate his smirk and how he keeps eye contact with you. You step fully into your room and slide the window closed behind you.

Armando gets up from the seat with his hands up, "Lo siento,"

"You're not sorry, otherwise you wouldn't have found your way in here in the first place." you speak.

He looks you up and down. Yeah it was probably the dress. It's summer time in Miami and you weren't about to put on a sweater. You'd have to blend in and a sundress was about as normal as ablue sky here.

"You know spanish?" he asks.

You start walking away from him, "This is Miami."

You take out the thumb drive and open the door to your room. When you stop walking, you hear him laugh to himself. You watch him walk through it first and then you after him.

"Mike, I got it." you say as you walk into the living room.

The shades have been drawn and the black out curtains too.

"I ever tell you you're the best?" he jokes.

"Yeah every time you need something." you reply.

You hand the drive to Dorn. He takes it and plus it into his computer. You watch as the flies pop up on his screen. He seems to be reading them a mile per minute.

"What'd you want with all that anyways?" you ask.

You watch as Marcus and Mike share a look between themselves. It unnerves you. You know they have a way of talking without sharing words. It's what happens when you work with someone for so long.

Marcus smiles and claps his hands together, "Mike thinks I should be the one to tell you. Because he has a more salp-able face."

You squint your eyes.

"Are you about to screw me?" you ask.

"Not per say, but you might not like what we have to say." Marcus ushers you to the kitchen.

The two of you walk all about two steps in before he's unloading on you. He starts off pretty strong, that you''re more than capable of handling German. And that you put in the time for it too.

But then he's telling you a different story.

German is in connection with a guy they're looking to take down. Something about a syndicate. Something about getting both of them at once. And Mike and Marcus have the backing of the PD.

You can feel the steam coming from your ears.

"Marcus you can't be trying to poach my guy right now!" you yell.

"The yelling, keep it down, you're undercover after all." He holds his hands up in defense.

You cross your arms over your chest, "You don't even know who I'm working for."

"Well, it's not someone who's paying you that's for sure." He divulges.

All at once he realizes he probably shouldn't have said that. Because if he knows you're not getting paid for this job then he's went though your bank statements. And probably a lot more.

Your eyes widen and your turn around and run into the living room. There you find Dorn, hiding behind Mike, with his computer in hand.

"You got beanstalk here to go through my stuff?!" you yell.

Mike pushes Dorn back even further.

"Look, we needed to know if we were stepping on government agency toes. And now we know we're not." Mike answers.

You leap to pounce on him but Marcus is faster and grabs you by the waist. You fight against him a little, knowing the he's probably gonna feel it tomorrow morning.

"That's an invasion of privacy. But I guess like father like son, since this one was in my room when I got here." you shout.

Mike looks at Armando, "Now, I told you to get out of there."

Armando shrugs.

"I'm sorry. But listen you can still be part of it." Mike says.

"How nice of you Mike. I'll be sure to thank you when we're done." you spit sarcastically.

Marcus lets you go and you decide to take a seat on the couch. Dorn frees himself from the corner of the room and takes a seat in the arm char that is farthest from you.

"You never take a job for free. What gives?" Mike asks.

You roll your eyes. It's not like you were money hungry. Yes you needed money to survive but you weren't broke. You could afford to not work for the next ten years if you wanted to. But you'd miss it too much.

This isn't that though. This isn't fun.

This is revenge.

"I thought you read through my stuff. You didn't put it together?"

"It's revenge." Armando answers.

You turn around from your seat on the couch and look at him. He's looking right back at you. He probably didn't read your file, probably was too boring for him. But how'd he figure it out?

It's not like you left the reason on your computer. You wouldn't make such a rookie mistake.

"How'd you figure that out? Did you find her moodboard?" Marcus jokes.

You pass him a look. He takes a step back.

"Alright, alright, no more jokes about the mood board. Got it." Marcus says to himself.

"What other reason could she be doing this for?" Armando asks.

"It's been twelve years. I spent ten years tracking him down and two years infiltrating his circle. He has no clue who I am. None." you start to explain.

"I'm sorry, it wasn't in your file. Who are you?" Dorn asks.

"Well she was leader of the dirty dozen in New York. Highly effective tactile group, skin ranging from murder, assassinations, weapon making, and a whole lot more." Mike says.

"And when the group cut ties, she ran the underground for a bit. Nothing happened without her knowing it." Marcus adds on.

"Not a cop." Armando says.

"I'm the daughter of German's former right hand man." you answer.

Which is why it stung a lot that Mike and Marcus wanted to take this case from you. Knowing who you are and knowing what it means. You worked for this. And you're gonna see it through come hell or high water.

-

THE NEXT NIGHT, MIAMI

Mike and Marcus were all set with their crew. German would never allow them to step foot into his compound but lucky for them they don't have to.

You snuck in last night and triggered the sprinkler system. Everything got flooded. So while German is getting everything cleaned up and possibly looking for a new base of operations, he's hanging out with a buddy.

Zio. Money hungry drug mover. Only thing he loves more than money and drugs is his expensive shoe collection. Which he's putting on display tonight.

A rich man's party is the best place to re-con. You told Mike and Marcus how many men German has on him at all times, but that doesn't give them much for when the time comes to take him down.

What's their tactical response like? What weapons do they bring on the move? How many cars? Things like that. Which was smart thinking and not at all on your mind when you first started this.

Armando leans back in the van's chair, man spreading. You roll your eyes but you say nothing. You weren't really trying to talk to him. Lest he find out more about you.

He seems to be tapped in to you. Which is weird. You've never had someone checking for you before.

"I can hear you rolling your eyes from here. What's up? he asks.

He spins around in his chair and faces you. Smug look on his face as he leans back.

"Nothing. Just want to get this over with." you say.

He nods once, then he creeps closer to you with his chair. He's about a foot away from you.

"You wanted to be the one to kill him." he muses.

You look at him, "Well yes. It was my mission. I found him. I infiltrated. I lost someone to him."

"It won't make the pain go away." he says.

"Oh please don't give me the 'revenge will just turn into guilt' talk. I got it from Mike and Marcus." you sigh.

Before you can blink or think of anything else to say, you feel your chair being pulled to the left. You grab onto the only thing in view and that happens to be Armando's leg.

"If I get him in my crosshairs, I'll hand the shot to you." he says.

You look him in the eyes, "Do you want a thank you or something?"

He smiles, "No te preocopes, no quiero nada."

"It doesn't seem like you don't want anything." you reply.

The back door of the van opens and he lets go of your chair. You slide back a bit to put some space between you two. He turns back to the screen in front of him.

-

THE NEXT MORNING, MIAMI

The steam from the shower wafts out the bathroom. You wrap your towel around your body a little tighter as you walk into the kitchen. The tea you were making is beyond ready, the kettle at this point screaming at a frequency only dogs can hear.

You turn it off and set it aside.

As your reaching for your favorite mug, you hear faint noises from the front door. You run over to the dinning room table and reach underneath the wooden chair. Your fingers wrap around the gun and you pull it close.

One swift check and the safety is off. You crab walk to the other side of the kitchen counter, away from the door. The noise becomes louder until you hear the door open.

"Shit, where'd she go." a voice says.

A voice, you know it. You get up from your position on the floor and look around the wall. Armando.

"What the hell are you-" you're about to ask.

"We need to go. now. No time to pack. Put some clothes on." He directs you.

He almost gives you no say when he grabs you by the elbow and maneuvers you into your room. He closes the door behind him and takes out his gun.

"Am I just supposed to undress in front of you?" you question, with your eyebrow raised.

He lets his arms fall to his sides. Then he walks over to the window, allowing you to walk over to the closet. You pull the door open and grab the first pair of jeans and shirt you can find.

Making sure he's actually turned first, you then put on your underwear and bra. Then you pull the shirt over your body, lastly your pants.

You walk to your dresser and reach into the cabinet. The noise must alert him that you're dressed because he turns around.

"We don't have time. You got made." Armando says.

"What the fuck do you mean I got made?" you ask.

"What I said. You're not safe here." he answers.

You grab your go-bag and move over to the window. Chest to Chest with Armando you look up at him.

"Where the hell am I gonna be safe then?"

He doesn't answer you. Maybe because he didn't have an answer. Or because the bullets started raining into your apartment right on time. Then he was nudging you out of the window and down the fire escape.

-

A COUPLE OF HOURS LATER, UNAMED MOTEL, ORLANDO

You put your bag down on the floor. The bed looked horrible. But horrible would have to do for now. You can't really make requests on the run.

Armando shuts the door behind him.

"Since you paid you can take the bed." you say.

He scoffs, "I'm not that kind of man."

You look over your shoulder, "Just one that snoops through my personal stuff and ignores personal space."

He says nothing. He walks silently into the bathroom and closes that door behind him too. You sigh and plop down onto the bed. You didn't understand.

Before Mike and Marcus showed up you were on track to get revenge within the next two weeks. Everything was set. There were backup plans. They were contingencies.

Now it was all shot to hell.

You hear the shower start up and lean back into the bed. And without meaning to you end up falling asleep. Right there on your back.

Armando comes out of the shower about five minutes after that. The soap sucked and the water had no pressure but at least he didn't feel like the sweat was clinging to him anymore.

He walks out of the bathroom and finds you laying on the corner of the bed. He looks you over once and crosses the room to cut off the lamps.

When the room is dark, he takes one of the pillows from the bed and sets himself up by the door. His gun tucked to his hip. This way he can keep an eye on the door and you.

You were interesting to say the least.

Usually people don't affect him this much. He can get on with his day and do what he has to do. Nothing comes in between him and a mission.

Especially now when his only mission was his freedom.

But there was something about you. Or, that's not really true. There were multiple things about you. He could see the lust for revenge in your eyes, he recognizes it well. He could tell you weren't being forthcoming either.

And he liked how you spoke your mind.

Liked? Why is he saying liked?

He doesn't really know you. He knows a little bit. He knows you only like tea, there is no coffee in your apartment. And you live in sweatpants when you don't have to be undercover. You also seem to have an aversion to the color blue.

He doesn't really know you. He can't like you.

He looks over at your sleeping form. How your lips part just a little bit and you snore. And your head leans to the right, your dominant side. He doesn't want to make you uncomfortable and move you. But he knows you'll wake up sore from sleeping this way.

So he gets up. He gets up because he needs to stretch his legs. Not because of any other reason.

He walks to the bathroom and turns on the light and the vent. Hoping the sound will rouse you and you'll move on your own. He steps into the bathroom and closes the door with a bit more force than needed.

He looks into the mirror. He looks himself in the eyes.

This is bad. This is bad because you're the type of girl he would take a bullet for.

-

THE NEXT MORNING, ORLANDO

"Mike-"

"I fucked up. I know you wanted this, and I took it from you when I should have let you handle it."

"Mike-"

"And now you're on the run. You've never been burned before, and it's because of me."

"Mike!"

"What?"

"Shut up for a second and let me think."

You sigh.

German caught on to the eyes on him when he was at the shoe party. While anyone else would have packed up and fled to a non extradition country, he's staying here.

A sign.

Whoever it is that wanted to get him, should come see him face to face. No way in hell were you going to do that. Not only did you have the smarts to wait him out, you didn't want Mike and Marcus to put themselves on the line. They would no doubt follow you into the fire.

"I think I should make my peace with this before anyone gets hurt." you say.

There's silence on the other end of the line. With Mike not talking , you turn around to find Armando. He's standing there, two feet away from you on the hood of the stolen pick-up truck from the motel parking lot.

"That's big of you." Mike jokes.

"Very. But I mean if I see him about to get ran over, I'm not goin to save his ass." you quip.

Mike laughs, "He doesn't deserve it. Your forgiveness."

"I know," you say and Armando looks at you then. "I should probably return him to you, since he's on parole."

"Yeah well he did some things that might kick that back a few years." Mike answers.

You shake your head, "You can say it was all me. Make sure Dorn gets rid of any incriminating footage."

"I didn't tell him to go get you, you know that?"

You don't know why but hearing that makes your heart kind of thump weird. Not thump weird. Your heart is already thumping, but it feels different.

Different as you look him in the eyes.

The first time you interacted with him you hoped it would be the last. And now here he is sticking his neck out for you when you haven't been all that kind.

"I didn't know that. I'll get him back to you in one piece." you speak.

"Thanks. And keep me updated wherever you land."

"Will do. Thanks Mike."

You hang up the phone. Armando takes a step closer and you hold out the phone for him. When he does you feel the quickest static brush against your fingertips.

"You good from here?" he asks.

You nod your head, "I'm a big girl, first time for everything."

He nods once with a small smirk on his lips. He looks away, somewhere off behind your shoulder. It's not like you didn't notice he's good looking. But you just never thought about it for too long.

"Let me drop you off at the station." he says.

You don't want to smile. You shouldn't smile. "Okay."

Armando waits for you to start walking. Once your in front of him he walks over to the driver's side. You climb into the truck and shut the door.

You could've walked. The station is only ten minutes from here. You smile a bit to yourself when he puts the car in drive.

[thepastdied]

Some Fun

eddie munson × fem!reader smut

Summary: You are Dustin's cousin and meet Eddie for the first time. Things get hot.

Loud laughter erupted from the dining room, echoing throughout the Henderson home and up the stairs.

Your eyes snapped open, frantically looking around.

"What the hell.." You murmered.

You rubbed the sleep from your eyes and stretched. It was just about 6pm, though still fairly bright out on this summer day, and the sky glowed a beautiful orange that poured through your bedroom window.

You'd just gotten back from college over on the East Coast. Every summer you come back to your aunts house, where you will stay for the next few months before returning back to your university. She was like a mother to you. And Dustin, Dustin was like a brother.

You kicked the covers off of you and swung your legs off the side of the bed before slumping over to your dresser. You'd regretfully overslept, your nap only meaning to be a couple hours, and now felt more tired than you did after finishing those chores this morning.

You changed out of your sweaty clothes and pulled on some pajama shorts, a tank top, and fixed your hair. More laughter came from the first floor, and you scrunched your eyebrows. Mike is so obnoxious..

Your feet padded against the hard wood floor of the hallway as you made your way downstairs.

"Hey." You threw an effortless greeting at the kids without looking up.

You sighed and went into the kitchen to get a glass from the cupboard. Your eyes flickered over to the dining room, the table half in view, to see the boys who've grown up far too quickly chuckling with one another.

Lucas so happened to look over and smiled as he gave you a small wave. Mike noticed, and so did Dustin, causing them all to turn around.

"You look like a fucking zombie." Mike cringed at you.

Your jaw dropped as you scoffed and shook your head.

"Well, I did sleep for literally 4 hours." You pointed out.

"Thought atleast one of you little shits would have woken me up so I could get you dinner". You added in annoyance before moving to the fridge.

You rummaged around before finally retrieving the lemon you'd been looking for and moving back into the boys' view.

"Well, Eddie already ordered us pizza since you were too busy sleeping," Dustin said.

"Child neglect." Mike just had to throw at you, causing you to mouth a 'shut the fuck up' in his direction.

"Wait, who?" You raised an eyebrow at them as you grabbed a knife from the drawer.

A head appeared out from behind the wall, scaring the living hell out of you and causing you to almost throw your knife.

"JESUS FUCK! You scared- oh, wow, hi" You stared at the brown eyed boy who had a silly grin on his face and instantly blushed. 'oh wow' Really!?

He snorted out a laugh as he stepped forward, a heavily ringed hand sticking out in front of you.

"I, my lovely maiden, am Eddie. Eddie the Banished." His eyes flickered down at your body before locking back onto yours. "My last name is actually Munson.. not Banished."

The boys began to talk with one another again and you were grateful, considering you were making a complete fool out of yourself.

You reached forward to grab his hand as you shyly laughed.

"I'm.." You blinked a couple of times. His eyebrows raised and disappeared into his fluffy bangs in anticipation. You somehow forgot your name.

"-y/n." You blurted out.

He grinned widely, revealing his perfect teeth and deep smile lines, head lightly bowing as he held your hand before letting go.

"Well, we were just about to throw a movie on - if you wanted to join." He awkwardly scratched the back of his neck and puffed his chest out.

You slowly nodded a few times, the gears in your brain having trouble working properly.

"This is a scary movie we are talking about, I hope?" You tilted your head in question.

"Is Children of the Corn scary enough for you?" He leaned his tall frame against the wall, one leg crossing over the other coolly.

You bit the inside of your cheek. Scary movies never really got to you. But if you get to sit next to him then.. suddenly, you find this movie terrifying.

"I should be able to hold myself together." You smirked up at him.

You turned around to go back to your task of cutting up the lemon for your water. Eddie didn't move an inch and instead raked his eyes down your body. You glanced over to him, his eyes fixated on your bare thighs. You cleared your throat.

"I can meet you guys in the living room?" You spoke without looking at him. You didn't want him to feel flustered about you catching him staring.

"Y-yeah, sure." He clumsily scurried to where the kids were.

You released a long breath and held your aching chest as he disappeared into the other room.

×

Eddie gave the kids pizza while you went to grab blankets for everyone. The larger couch in the living room has a pullout bed where the three boys stayed huddled together with the large pizza box in the center. You found it adorable, just like the old days.

"You need help up there?" Eddie calls up the stairs.

Your tongue sticks out from between your lips as you stretch your arms as high as you can to reach the top shelf of the closet.

"I'm- shit..!" Your fingers graze the corner of the blanket before your toes give out, and you slumped back onto your feet.

Eddie reaches the top of the stairs just as you slap your hands to your side in defeat.

"Please.." You sigh as you wipe the sweat from your forehead.

He chuckles and (unnecessarily) walks behind you, his chest pressed against your back as he easily grabs the blanket and tosses it over your head. You flail your arms and bunch it into your chest, sending him a playful glare, your hair messy and in your face.

"Eddie the Banished is about to really get banished." You lean forward and narrow your eyes as you blow the stray hairs out of your face.

"You are gonna banish me? Sweetheart, I'd like to see you try." He sucks his bottom lip into his mouth and wiggles his eyebrows.

"Oh my god, what does that even mean?" You slap his arm at his supposed dirty remark.

He holds where your hand made contact and throws himself against the wall, sliding down until he is a heap on the floor.

"No- no! Please! Don't banish me- I'll do anything!" He pleads as he grabs your ankle.

Your hand covers your mouth as you giggle at his over the top theatrics. He is fucking insane..

"Eddie.. get off the floor." You shake your head in disbelief.

"That's what you want me to do? I was hoping it would be something more like... you know-" He pauses his pleas and whispers.

"Wha- Eddie, get up!" You reach down and grab his arm, as if that will do anything.

He wears a mischievous smile as he stands and shakes his hair. You close your eyes and breathe out before walking past him to go downstairs. The boys didn't seem to notice either of you were gone and as you rounded the corner to the living room Eddie grabbed your arm.

"Hey, you should sit with me." His eyes flicked between yours, nervous that you'd say no.

You nodded your head and continued to the living room, blinking a few times as you see each of the boys already had their own blanket.

"Where did you get those?" You pointed to each of them.

Dustin looked at you as if you were stupid and pointed go the door on the opposite side of the living room. "The closet."

You stared blankly as they continued their conversation and looked at Eddie. His tongue was in his cheek as he stared back smirking and patted the cushion next to him on the empty couch. A wave of anxiety hit you as you approached him and slumped down. Eddie came upstairs after you. He must have known the kids already had blankets. You stilled when his thigh touched yours as he spread his legs.

Dustin shut the lights and started the movie, the entire room being enveloped in darkness.

You looked down at Eddie's legs and felt your heartbeat thump in your chest.

And Eddie, he was looking at your crossed legs and didn't miss the way they were clenching together.

The past thirty minutes have felt like an eternity. You were practically dripping into your shorts.

Your eyes shot down as Eddie moved one of his hands to his thigh and rubbed his palm against his rough jeans, slowly working his fingers toward you. You jumped when his fingertips barely grazed the outside of your thigh. He turned his head to look at you as he did it again, watching your chest rise as you took in a sharp breath. You let him put his whole hand on your thigh and leaned your leg into the touch. His hair tickled your shoulder as he grazed his lips against your ear.

"Is this okay, sweetheart?" He rubbed his thumb in circles and moved his hand slowly toward the inside of your thigh.

You silently nodded and moved the blanket onto your lap, spreading your thighs just a little.

Eddie hummed as he sat upright again and looked over to where the kids sat. Your fingers grabbed his wrist before they were able to meet your pussy. He quickly looked at you, understanding your knowing look.

You sat like that for the remainder of the movie. His hand on your inner thigh and both of you excruciatingly horny, though unable to go further for obvious reasons.

"Welp. We're gonna go for a bike ride." Dustin stood up and stretched, the others following suit as he flicked the table lamp on. They began to grab the empty soda cans from the side table.

"A bike ride now? It's going on 8pm -"

Eddie ripped his hand from your leg and stood up, discreetly fixing himself in his pants.

"We can clean up here, shoo shoo. Be back in an hour so we can watch another movie, the night is still young my sheepies!" Eddie shooed them away with his hands and pushed them out the door, each of them giving eachother puzzled looks.

You stood from the couch as Eddie came back into the room and began throwing the trash away while he moved the remaining pizza to the kitchen. There was so much tension that it was unbearable.

"So.." He started. Geez.. now it's even more awkward.

You really, really needed him. Anything from him.

You raised an eyebrow at him as he moved to sit on the couch again, roughly patting his lap. "Come here."

You shifted on your feet and rung your fingers together. The way your legs rubbed together made you want to moan- that's how desperate you were.

He spread his legs out and licked his bottom teeth as you stood in front of him. You put your hands on his shoulders as you moved to straddle his lap.

"Fuck.." He breathed out as his hands gripped your waist and pulled you tighter to him.

You turned your head in embarrassment of the situation.

"Hey-" He moved one hand to your jaw.

"Look at me." Eddie's voice was soft. You did as he said.

"Would it be cool if I like.. kissed you?" He asked before he pursed his lips and scrunched his eyes shut. As if you'd say no?

You giggled at his bashfullness as your hands moved from his shoulders to his chest.

He opened one eye to peek at you and then shut it again to shake his head in a giddy manner.

"Eddieeee.." You whined.

He opened his eyes and lightly laughed before leaning forward and brushing his nose against yours. You smiled when his breath touched your lips, causing him to laugh. He mumbled an apology before moving one hand to the back of your neck and drawing you into a soft kiss. You pulled apart for only a second before he roughly pulled you flush into him, your gasp being silenced by his mouth.

Eddie's fingers raked down your back and to your ass, gripping you hard and moving his hips up into you. You moaned and rolled your hips. He tore his mouth from yours and let his head fall back, his hair dangling over the back of the couch as you sat up.

"Holy fucking s-shit" He moaned with an open mouth and then clenched his jaw as he groaned.

You throbbed when you saw his neck muscles tense up. His chest was hot under your hands as you trailed them down to his pelvis, where you snaked your fingers under his shirt. Your hips ground into him, his jeans giving just the right amount of rough friction to throw you over the edge. His fingers tightened on your ass when you leaned down, tits pressing against his chest, as you latched your mouth onto his neck. You moaned as you felt your slick gush against your panties.

"Woah that.. that's f-fucking good." Eddie shivered as you licked and sucked up his neck to behind his ear.

His dick was rock-hard under you as you rolled your hips against it. Eddie moved his hands in between your bodies as you continued to devour his neck, his breath quaking while he fumbled with his belt and undid his jeans.

Only the thin layer of his boxers was keeping his raw dick hidden from you. You sat up and wiped the saliva from your mouth with the back of your hand. Eddie's head remained on the back of the couch as he rolled it to the side to look at you. His hair was pushed back on one side revealing the dark marks you left on his neck. He probably has no idea. You smirked.

You palmed him through his boxers and could feel the wetness of his precum seeping through. He groaned from his throat and bucked his hips up into your hand.

"Please.." He breathed out, his adams apple bobbing as he swallowed.

You quickly stood up and removed your shorts, keeping the panties, before sitting back down. Eddie's mouth hung open while he watched your every move.

You positioned your clothed pussy over him and lightly dragged it along his boxers. You sighed in pleasure as the warmth of his dick met your pussy. You felt your slick slide between your folds as you pressed into him, letting your head fall back as you moaned his name.

"Y-you're.. oh god, you're so wet. You're gushing I can f-feel it." He pulled his head up and looked down where your bodies met. Your juices were seeping out of your panties and onto his covered dick.

"Wanna cum on you.." You mumbled, entire body heating up.

Eddie laughed from his throat and frantically nodded.

"And you will, baby. You're gonna fall apart just f'me, huh?" He put one hand back on your ass and another down to your pussy, running his fingers along the outside of your panties. "Fucking soaking.."

He held his hand in front of your face, sticking his glistening fingers together and separating to show the strings of your slick. Both of your breaths were hot and shallow as you continued to grind into him.

"Mm.. never tasted pussy before." He brought his fingers to his mouth and stuck his long tongue out, licking a long strip along his fingers as his dark eyes bore into yours and he moaned at the taste.

"Oh my god-" You choked out a moan and your nails dug into the skin of his waist as you began to roll your hips faster.

"Shit shit shit shit-" Eddie gasped and sat up, holding you by your waist and meeting his hips with each of your movements.

He mouthed at your collarbone and shamelessly moaned as you tangled your fingers in his hair at the nape of his neck. His teeth grazed your skin before he lightly bit down and messily kissed a trail up to your mouth. You bit and licked into eachothers mouths.

"Fuck yeah, just like that." He moaned into your mouth as your fast pace brought both of you closer to cumming. "Wanna-" He grunted as his movements stuttered. "Wanna come with you, sweetheart."

"Mhm.. mhm I'm close. R-really close." You kissed him deeper as he got more sloppy, one of his arms wrapping around your waist to keep you against him while another hand came to grab your face. His tongue was almost down your throat, not that you were complaining. You tore away from him and babbled incoherently, head falling slack to your shoulder as your hips jerked against his as you reached your high. A loud cry rang throughout the room as you arched your back and fisted his hair tighter, legs beginning to shake with over stimulation.

"Okay.. woah that's hot -kay.. okay, okay, okay- FUCK." He let out a long guttural moan as he flopped backwards onto the couch.

Spurts of warmth spread from underneath you, both of your juices mixing together. Your chest heaved as you looked him over. He panted as he looked at you, his hair wild and splayed out across the back of the couch, some sticking to his cheeks, and his face flushed and sweaty. He gulped and wiped his face with the sleeve of his Hellfire shirt.

"C'mere.." Eddie motioned you closer, smiling like a complete dope while trying to catch his breath.

You layed on him and breathed out a relaxed sigh as he kissed the side of your head.

"Next time.. maybe we could go in my room?" You speak quietly against his chest, his heart thumping loudly in your ear.

"Next time!? Goddam.. you'll be the death of me, baby. Of course." His chest vibrated at he spoke, belly shaking when he laughed.

You sat up enough to look at his face.

"So you liked it then..?" You leaned in and pecked his lips.

"Seriously?" He grinned widely, just as he did when you first met only hours ago.

"That.. was fun. Shit."