#at least I don’t have to pay 🫣

[tra-le-patatine-a-fuoco]

Bimba di Tananai confirmed

[d0youc0py]

Heyyy. This might b triggering so it’s okay if u don’t do it, but how would 141 + Konig react if reader was @ her friends house and got in the middle of an argument between friend + her bf and friends bf ended up hitting reader? (Kinda self indulgent 🫣)

“You always do this Simon!” You growled, shoving some clothes into an overnight bag.

“Do what?�� He snapped back. He stood in the doorway, trying to slow his breathing. He was upset- more than upset, but he refused to loose his patience with you. “Just want to keep you safe kid.” He reminded.

“You’re trying to isolate me!” You shouted, making your way towards the bathroom. “Every time I try to do anything you always tell me it’s not safe- or that I shouldn’t trust this person. Newsflash Simon I have been able to survive on this earth without you.”

“I don’t like him.” He held strong. He wouldn’t compromise with you if he felt you were at risk. Your friend had invited you to spend the night at her house for a sleepover, and when you broke the news to Simon his first question was: ‘will that slag of hers be there?’ To be honest you hadn’t even thought about it. Why did it matter if he was there? You knew Simon trusted you but his constant distrust of other people was starting to wear on you.

“That doesn’t really matter Simon.” You sighed. You stood in front of him expectantly, waiting for him to move out of the frame. “Besides what evidence to you have against him?”

“He’s a strange man.” He responded.

“He’s not a stranger Simon. We’ve been on like three double dates with them.” You huffed, taking it upon yourself to push past him when he refused to move. He growled to himself, following you around the flat. Suddenly his hands gripped your hips pulling you back towards him. His neck bent down and you instinctually made room for his head by tilting yours to the side.

“Just stay home with me tonight, yeah?” The anger left your body at his soft words and the small kisses placed against your neck. “Or at least say you can’t spend the night. No reason for you to be away for that long.” You turned in his arms, placing a kiss against his chin.

“Simon I’ll be fine, yeah?” You murmured, causing another huff to escape him.

•••

That turned out to be a fat lie.

“Do you think Simon’s going to propose anytime soon?” She asked causing you to flush. “You two have been together for what, three, four years?”

“Just two.” You corrected politely. “I don’t know honestly, haven’t really thought about it much.”

“Such a lie.” She snickered, wiggling her brows at you. You rolled your eyes waving her off.

“Keep it down in there!” You both jumped at the sudden boom from the living room.

“Sorry Rick!” Your friend shouted, seemingly unbothered by his nasty tone. A pit formed in your stomach.

“He always talk to you like that?” You asked, keeping your voice down. She looked at you with a small smile.

“Just when I’m bothering him. Surely Simon snaps at you.” She explained. How could she not realize how out of touch her statement was.

“Not like that.” You said.

“What’s that suppose to mean?” You winced as Ricks voice rung out from behind you. How the hell were you suppose to get out of this one? “You comin into my house, filling my girls head with shite?” He snarled. You quickly stood up.

“No, course not.” You smiled, making your way towards the door.

“I’m good to her.” He huffed, following your footsteps. You nodded your head in agreement.

“I’m sure you are.” You offered a weak smile, peaking behind you to make sure you didn’t trip over any furniture. His arm darted out gripping yours, tugging you close to him.

“You’re sure?” He pressed. You were a quivering mess at this point. Fear and adrenaline being to much for your body to process.

“Rick!” Your friend yelled. He threw a harsh ‘shut up’ over his shoulder. Your mind raced trying to remember even just one technique Simon had showed you. You wished you had payed more attention, instead of just staring at his arms the whole time.

“You’re sure?” He growled again giving you a shake.

“Stop!” You shouted. It was met with a harsh smack to your face.

“I’ve got neighbors you little”- His words were cut off as Simon’s words finally rang through your head:

“When in doubt, aim for the balls or the throat.”

You decided the first one was the most viable option. It had caught him off guard enough to loosen his grip and it was all you needed, slamming the front door shut behind you. You had made it down the flight of stairs, your hands searching your pockets for your phone only to realize you had left it inside.

“Fuck.” You whimpered, trying to make heads or tails of where you were. You weren’t overly familiar with this area. But you were familiar with the fast approaching figure heading towards you. “Simon.” You gasped, hurdling yourself towards him. You didn’t know why he was here but you sure as shit weren’t complaining.

Even through your own shakes you could feel him tremble against you. You let out a sob as he tried to pull away from you.

“He touch you?” He growled, none of it’s malice towards you. Your cheek burned and you could only imagine the mark it had left.

“I want to go home.” You sputtered, burying your face in the safety of his shoulder. He swallowed down his anger to the best of his ability.

“Alright, sweetheart.” He murmured against your head. He carried you to the truck, buckling you up. He continued to let you cling to him until you had calmed, and the loudest thing between you two was his pounding heartbeat. “Tell me what happened, yeah?” He hummed, trying his hardest to fake some calmness.

“He grabbed my arm.” You whispered. His chest heaved. “And”- you cut yourself off. Taking a small breath you pulled away from him, his heated eyes quickly falling on the bruise already spreading over half your face. His face flushed, but he was able to hold in the burning of his body.

“Sweetheart.” He said slowly. He pressed his lips against your forehead. “Give me the apartment number.”

“1G.” You said, with surprisingly little hesitation. Whatever Simon was about to do, it was deserved.

When Simon came back he was shockingly clean, and shockingly poised. He tossed your overnight bag into the back seat and handed you your phone when he got into the drivers seat.

“Simon”- he cut you off by tangling both your hands with one of his, pulling out of the parking garage. You didn’t need to know. You didn’t need to know that he had broken down a door- and almost every bone in that man’s body. That he had been waiting outside the apartment building for the past three hours, stewing in his own protectiveness. Your friend wasn’t even mad. She didn’t bat an eye when Simon asked to use her bathroom to clean himself up a bit- not wanting that man’s blood anywhere near your precious body.

He brought your hands up pressing a kiss against your knuckles, pulling into the grocery store parking lot for a bag of frozen peas and ice cream.

He wasn’t suppose to be home yet. He had at least another week away- another week for your bruised face to heal. It had just began to look better, the harsh purple color fading to more of a greenish yellow color.

He opened the door, steadying himself for the only attack he actually enjoyed. Your pressing yourself as close to him as you could, tangling your limbs with any part of him, your lips suffocating any thought he had other than he was finally home with you. His stomach dropped when it never came, shutting to door behind him his bag thumping loud against the floor.

“Sweetheart?” His voice boomed, the worst running through his head. He reminded himself he wasn’t suppose to be home for another week and that you weren’t expecting him. Yet your car was in the driveway and there was still no sign of you.

“I’m here.” His shoulders relaxed, your voice melting his brain just right.

“Where are y”- he stopped himself. You were standing in front of him. The realization as to why you weren’t all over him right now crashing down on him harder than a bullet. You- his literal everything- adorned with a sickening brush on your cheek. The same cheek he would brush his beard against to make you laugh. The same cheek his fingers would stroke to self soothe when his brain was just too loud. The same cheek that would flush berry red when he mumbled certain things against you.

“I can explain.” You said quickly, allowing him to maneuver the two of you to the couch. You quickly found your designated spot on his lap, hoping your touch would cause the storm that was about to ensure lighten.

“I want a name.” His voice was calm. Too calm.

“It was an accident. Fell in the garden and hit myself on that big rock you keep telling me to look out for.”

He wasn’t buying it. His face stone cold, as his thumb traced over the healing brush gently.

“I’ll be good.” He assured. He couldn’t fathom why you wanted to protect this person. Must’ve been someone you knew. “Name, please.”

“John.” You whined, clawing at his shirt. He huffed and relaxed you against him, resting his cheek against the top of your head.

“You don’t want to tell me because you think I’ll overreact.” He couldn’t even blame you for that. The man would happily start a war over you. “I won’t touch ‘em, I promise.” He whispered. His hand rubbed up and down your back and you realized just how much you needed the comfort. His hand stopped at your neck, massaging the tense muscles. “Just need to know who hurt my love, hmm?”

“Promise you won’t hurt anyone?” You insisted using his chest to cover up a yawn. He hummed, nodding his head.

“Rick. Remember Kelsey’s boyfriend? I went over to her house and he showed up drunk yelling at her about some fight they had earlier. I should’ve just kept my mouth shut and before I knew it he hit me.” You explained. The normally comfortable body under you had turned ridged, his heartbeat drumming against your ear. “John?”

“That wasn’t so hard was it?” He chuckled slowly against your temple. “Did you”-

“Put a frozen steak on it? Yeah.”

“I’m sorry that happened darling.” He sighed. His large hands gripped your sides pulling you away from him just for a moment. “If something like that ever happens again you call me, understand?” His eyebrow rose to show his seriousness.

“Yes sir.” You swore a small smile on your lips.

He had kept his promise- he didn’t hurt anyone. But he couldn’t allow someone who hurt you live a comfortable life. It would go against his oath to you if he did.

And besides, someone has to make the enemy afraid of the dark.

He should’ve know better than to leave you alone. He thought that for just one moment while he went to the bathroom it would be safe. You had been tucked under his arm the whole evening, so everyone knew who you were there with. It was his fault for assuming his physique was enough to keep any unwanted advancements away. Time slowed as he came out of the bathroom, his trained eyes spotting you right where he had left you, except you were on the floor. Tears streaming down that perfect face of yours, your own hand cupping your cheek. He didn’t even need to see your best friend pulling at her boyfriends arm in shock- or the way his green eyes stared at his own hand like it had just appeared out of thin air to know what had happened.

Johnny was by your side in an instant, pulling your hazy body to its feet. He’d experienced this before on the field. Everything moving in slow motion- hyper focusing on the important things. Right now it was you.

“Mac.” You gasped, your fingers curling into his shirt sleeve. Like a shockwave he was pulled back into real time. The loud chatter of the bar. The smell of cigarettes and stale beer. The fear rolling off of you. It made his blood boil. He turned to look at Rick his mind going into autopilot. His hand shot out grabbing him by the shirt collar on flinging him backwards. The bar went dead silent the only sound was Ricks body slamming into the wall of liquor bottles behind the bar. Johnny took a few steps forward wanting to finish what he had just started. That wasn’t enough of a punishment. He wouldn’t be happy till he was unrecognizable. “Jo.” Your pleading voice snapped him out of it once more.

In that moment he realized how selfish he was. You were scared and needed assurance, not seeing your husband nearly kill someone. He wrapped a sturdy arm around you guiding you out of the disheveled bar. The cold felt good against your heated bodies.

“I don’t know what happened.” You sputtered, letting the Scot support your body weight. “Camilla was making a joke about how angry Rick gets when she folds his laundry wrong and I made a joke about how she still does his laundry and then he”-

You couldn’t even get through the story.

“Let me see.” Johnny hushed, gently removing your hand from your face. He leaned forward pressing a light kiss against the throbbing flesh. “How bad does it hurt?”

“Six out of ten.” You responded, nuzzling your way back into his strong chest. All you wanted was to be home in bed in the safety of his arms. The smell of pine tickled your brain enough for the tears to stop.

“Should go back there and”-

“No.” You huffed.

“That number is too damn high for me to let him off easy.”

“Easy? You threw the man across the room with one hand.” You reminded.

“Should make it so he only has one hand.”

“Johnny.” The use of his full name stopped the unintelligible Scottish rambling that was sure to ensue. “Can we go home please?”

“Hey sweetheart, need me to come pick you up?” Kyle spoke into the phone that was resting between his shoulder and his cheek. When you sniffled into the phone he didn’t even bother to pause his game, his fingers gripping the device in his hand.

“Ky.” You mumbled. You mumbled in that specific tone that cracked his heart in such a wince worthy way. “I need help.” His blood ran cold.

“Stay on the phone with me, yeah.” He demanded, shoving his feet into a pair of shoes. “What happened?” The sound of his car starting settled you a little bit. “You still at your friends house?”

“No, I’m down the street, by the library.” You sniffed. “He hit me, Ky.”

A sound let Kyles throat- a mix of a growl and a whine. His foot pressed even harder against the accelerator, running straight through a red light. His body was shaking, adrenaline heightening his senses. He wished the two of you didn’t live in such a big city with so much fucking traffic.

“Who’s he?” Kyle snarled.

“Jess’s boyfriend.” You emphasized. “They got into a stupid fight about which Pizza to order for lunch and all I did was fucking agree with her.”

He felt sick. He’d seen a lot of gruesome shit in his life, but the thought of someone hurting you took the cake. He could imagine how scared you were- how scared you are. He can see the tears welling up in your eyes and he imagined your heart rate was about the same as his right now. He can imagine you scrambling to find a way out of there- away from the danger.

“After this we’re practicing those damn self dense moves.” He gritted. You mumbled an ‘okay’ before seeing a familiar sleek, black car pull up next to you.

“How’d you get here so fast?” You questioned, hanging up the phone as he got out of the car.

“Let me see.” He insisted, pressing the back of his palm against your heated cheek. You winced, shying away. “Let’s go get you some ice.” He said mostly to himself. He rested a hand on the back of your neck guiding you to the passenger side.

He kept his hand in your lap the whole drive to the grocery store. “What pizza did he want?”

“Pepperoni with mushrooms.” You replied. The rest of the ride was silent, Kyle went into the store without you.

“Hold this against your face.” He pressed a bag of frozen peas to your cheek. He unwrapped your favorite candy bar, placing it in your lap. Even with your swollen face you couldn’t stop a smile. “I need to make a quick stop before we go home.” His eyes flickered over to you, the same flash of anger striking through him as he took your appearance in. You didn’t think anything of it till he turned down your friends street.

“Kyle.” You mumbled. The last thing you wanted to do was be back here.

“I know baby, I know.” He tried his best to soothe, but he was so riled up. He needed to get this out of his system. Besides he couldn’t just let people hurt you and get away with it. “Stay here, I’ll only be a second.” He closed the door behind him, grabbing a frozen pizza that you didn’t even know he got out of the backseat. You watched anxiously as he made his way up the driveway ringing the doorbell.

The door opened to reveal Rick and Kyle wasted absolutely no time shoving the frozen pizza in his face. The strength of it sent Rick flying backwards and Kyle took the upmost pleasure in the loud crack of his nose breaking.

“Traffic is bad mein Herz. I’m going to be a little late.” You huffed at his words.

“Drive safe I’ll see you soon.”

“He running late?” Your friend questioned as you made your way back into the kitchen.

“Yeah, should be here soon though.” She smiled, taking dinner out of the oven. “Help me set up?” She asked over her shoulder, making her way to the dinning room. You began grabbing the silverware out of the drawer.

“No, Konig?” Rick asked, sitting down at the kitchen island. You shook your head.

“He’ll be here soon.” You assured.

“That’s too bad.” His hand landing on your hip followed his slimy words.

“What are you doing?” You spat, backing away. He shushed you.

“Keep you’re voice down. Don’t want her to find us out, yeah?” He said, nodding his head towards the dinning room.

“There is nothing to find out!” You must’ve said it too loud, because Ricks hand flung forward connecting with your cheek. You dropped the spoons in your hand, then clattering loudly on the floor. You didn’t even have time to feel scared, catching sight of the colossal figure in the doorway.

Rick followed your gaze and it was almost laugh worthy at how quickly he lost all confidence.

“Schatz?” Konig held out his car keys to you. “Wait in the car, please.”

Gentle blue eyes watched you, almost chuckling at the way you skipped over to him. Konig reveled in the way you trusted him. Trusted him to take care of you- to protect you. Later he would wrap you up in his arms and hold a bag of ice to your face, but right now he had other things to deal with.

“And turn the music up. It might get loud in here.”

[gutsby]

Best Served Cold

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Summary: Since your fiancé can’t seem to keep his hands off of Lori, you decide Daryl is the perfect way to make him pay. Revenge sex has never felt so good.

Warning: NSFW. Attempted SA. Unprotected p-in-v. I don’t condone cheating (unless it’s on abusers lol). Semi-public sex and getting caught doing it in a tent 🫣 Based on this kickass idea from @dilfsandmartinis (I'm so sorry it took this long for me to post the story) !! 💓

Your man returned to your tent that night like he did most others: slick with sweat and too tired for sex. At least not again, not with you. He would undoubtedly claim to have been checking the perimeter, standing guard like a good leader should, but any blind man in that quarry camp could’ve seen he was just boning Lori.

A lot.

You were really more offended that he thought you stupid enough to abide by his lies than the fact he was fucking someone else. That part wasn’t new—his dick never knew how to stay in one hole longer than a month or two—but in an apocalypse? With his newly-deceased best friend’s widow? That was low, even for Shane.

Which was why you felt no compunction yourself as you slipped quietly from your tent toward the water’s edge that night, pink vibrator clutched tightly in hand.

Useful little thing that it was, a six-setting suction device that worked wonders on your clit, even underwater. You figured since Shane couldn’t be bothered with you or your sexual pleasure so long as the former Mrs. Grimes was occupying his time, you’d make use of this sex toy instead and start really leaning into the “self care” you’d been craving for so long.

The water was warm all the way up to your chest, and the air around you tepid. You moved around, treaded in place, and finally reached comfortable bearings a couple yards from shore. You relished the solitude and silence.

The moment you felt the toy come to life in your hand, you couldn’t help but smile. Exhaling as you brought the tip close to your center.

“Shit.” Even the gentlest setting too harsh on your clit, you nipped your lower lip and bit back a whimper.

You swirled it lightly on your inner thigh, tried painstakingly as ever to acclimate yourself to the buzz of the rubber, but damn were you sensitive. Almost too tender to be touched, too ripe with excitement and aching for the feel of something on you, or in you, or just barely skimming the surface of your skin underwater.

A low moan escaped your lips the second the head drifted back to your clit. Your toes curled into rough, rocky terrain underfoot, and your breaths started to quicken. You made a gentle motion with your hips—a sweet, semi-circular thing you’d been doing over Shane’s lower half as long as you could remember—begging for more friction, needing more of that mechanical hum.

You pressed the button for a higher setting. The peaks of your pleasure soared to new heights.

You were helpless to the trembling of your knees and felt immensely grateful for the water’s aid in keeping you straight. You pressed the rounded tip of the toy even tighter to your core and didn’t heed a thing around you as you sighed several expletives under your breath. A jolt of bliss washed over your body.

Your eyes had just started to close in the first throes of that wild sensation, when a new sound startled you.

“Ya done pissin’ or what?”

You shot a look toward the shore and saw a slightly less-than cheery individual standing at the edge of it, the toes of his boots grazing the incoming waves.

You froze in place. You hardly knew what to say.

“Ain’t safe fer you out here ‘n you know it. Come on.” Daryl beckoned you with one hand and started to turn.

At what point was it appropriate to tell him you were naked?

You thought he could surmise from the fact you were neck-deep in the water and refusing to move that maybe something more was keeping you in. Daryl seemed clueless, however.

“I ain’t got all night, kid,” he snorted, “’f you don’t hurry, Shane an’ the rest of ‘em’ll be out and— ah.”

Ah.

At the last, he stepped on a pile of clothes folded neatly on the shoreline nearby, undergarments and all.

So this wasn’t a midnight swim or a late night piss at all, but a full-blown skinny dip. He should have known you weren’t the bikini type.

Awkwardly, almost begrudgingly, Daryl gathered what clothes of yours he could and chucked them closer to the lake. Then he turned on his heels and stalked up the beach without another word—fuming, it seemed to you. Once averted, though, Daryl’s face betrayed a look of horror. Like a parent who’d just stumbled upon a box of condoms in their daughter’s sock drawer after swearing she was still a virgin.

In the few short weeks since you’d been thrown together in this mess, Daryl had practically taken to you like family. He hated Shane ‘Shit-for-Brains’ Walsh most days, it was true, but the fact that you were you, and times were tough, and nothing seemed to occupy Daryl’s mind quite like the thought of keeping you safe, that he had to keep you close at all times. He just hadn’t imagined your proximity would turn this intimate so suddenly.

“Keep up,” he spoke more sharply than usual. Didn’t even wait for you to dry and dress completely before snagging your hand in his.

You glanced at your taut, hardened nipples poking up through the damp material of your tank top and suddenly wished you’d brought a towel. Or a bra. Your shorts, too, clung to your ass like a second skin and made you feel extra bare before Daryl’s eyes—even if he hadn’t spared a look at you once as you’d traipsed behind him through the woods.

When you tripped, he held you up; when you nearly ate shit over several rocky spots, he carried you over them. His eyes never strayed toward your body, though.

Once you’d made it to the clearing where your group had made camp, Daryl lowered you to the ground and still couldn’t find it within himself to look your way. You shuffled uncomfortably on your feet, now standing inches away from the tent you shared with Shane.

“Thanks for...that,” you said, flatly.

Daryl managed a curt nod.

Before you turned in, you decided to venture a look at Daryl’s chest, and you felt an influx of embarrassment. The taupe-colored cutoff he wore as a shirt was soaked with water. Instinctively, you brushed your fingers over the stain—as if touching it might dry the fabric, or else mask your humiliation at being the cause. You tried not to evince a hint of surprise at how sturdy he felt.

“Shit, I’m sorry, Daryl.”

You hadn’t thought any man was capable of looking more afflicted than Daryl did before, but somehow, incredibly, he appeared even more ill at ease when you touched him. You immediately retracted your hand.

“’S’okay,” he managed. He would’ve given anything not to be where he was, or who he was, at that moment.

Just when another apology leapt to your tongue—feeling even worse that you might’ve crossed a physical boundary you shouldn’t have—a twig snapped close-by.

You and Daryl jumped in your skin. You turned toward the source of the sound.

Shane was tugging his pants into place, pulling the zip up in haphazard fashion as he marched out of the woods.

He’d either been blowing Lori’s back out (again) or off to take a piss in the bushes. By the looks of his dazed and drowsy expression, you guessed it was the latter.

“Got a nice rack, doesn’t she?” Shane observed, careless as ever.

He walked past the two of you and unzipped the tent.

“I was jus—” Daryl started.

“Don’t care,” Shane cut in, “Goodnight.”

You were amazed at the level of nonchalance your fiancé exhibited. On finding you soaked to the bone and touching another man in the middle of the night, the old Shane probably would’ve laid Daryl flat on his ass.

But overprotective, possessive Shane was no more.

Before disappearing into the tent, Shane reached for your elbow. You barely got another glimpse at Daryl as you were ushered inside.

The tent was re-zipped in an instant, and you assumed Daryl would be quick to leave the scene, too.

You turned and saw Shane fumbling to unscrew the lid of his canteen. Taking several big gulps before re-fastening the top, tossing the jug to the side, and letting out a sigh.

“You get a look at the hard-on he had?” Shane chuckled.

You almost choked on your spit.

“What?”

“Pitched a tent in his pants bigger’n this,” he returned, gesturing to the polyester enclosure overhead. Then he got back to his feet, walked over to you, and kept going, in spite of your perplexed expression, “He must really wanna fuck you.”

You blinked up at him, unsure if you were more baffled by Shane’s serene demeanor or the fact that you hadn’t noticed Daryl’s boner. You decided to overlook the erection for the time being.

“And you don’t...care if he did?” Instantly chiding yourself for the twinge of indignation in your tone.

“Nuh-uh,” Shane said. His hands came to rest comfortably on your hips, and he seemed to be hearing your words without really comprehending what you meant. As usual.

If he picked up on the irritation in your voice, he didn’t show it. He just rolled the denim of your shorts between his fingers and pulled you closer.

“This,” he hummed, fingers sinking between your legs, “is not for him.”

And Shane was community dick. Made sense.

You didn’t attempt to conceal your annoyance this time as you rolled your eyes and pushed his hands away.

“Well maybe if Daryl asked nicely…” you trailed off, starting toward the bed.

Shane stopped you before you could. He took a firmer hold of your sides and showed the first real hint of jealousy in his eyes. You were almost glad to see it.

“No,” Shane said, shaking his head. Then, snaking his touch back down your legs—with the fabric of your shorts fisted in his hands this time—he continued amidst your quiet protests.

You were gripping his wrists, trying to keep them from moving any further. But Shane was insistent.

“He wouldn’t get to ask nicely, because I’d blow his fucking brains out before he ever got the—”

“Shane.” You were actively shoving his hands off now. You didn’t mind this envious side coming back to the surface, but you would not, under any circumstance, be Shane’s sloppy seconds the same hour he’d fucked Lori.

“No. You— you smell like—” you cut yourself off before the woman’s name could leave your lips.

“Like what?” Shane snapped. Suddenly intrigued to hear what you had to say.

You tried to wriggle out of his grip, but when you couldn’t, and when he pressed you again, you sputtered some nonsense about his drinking—how he reeked of booze, not Rick’s wife.

“Thought you liked it when I fucked you drunk,” Shane grinned, voice dripping with condescension, “Said it gave me stamina.”

You’d said no such thing. You groaned lightly as Shane managed to pull your panties and shorts, together, to your ankles. When he started to take them off at your feet, he hardly seemed to notice your nails dig in his shoulders, silently begging him to stop.

“Think I should invite Daryl back over? Let him watch me fuck you stupid?” Shane’s mouth was hovering close to your center, hot breaths fanning over your lower half.

In any other situation, you would’ve craved him here: on his knees, ready to suck and lick and dick you down like he always used to do. But things were different now, you had to remind yourself. Apart from the walking dead invading your world, there was no Rick in the picture, no semblance of platonic feelings between his widow and your fiancé—you felt physically sick at the thought of Shane touching you now. You tried to stand the instant he threw you on the bed.

“Shane, I don’t wanna—”

“Fuck? Yeah, I figured,” Shane shrugged as he tried to peel your shirt off your body.

“Then quit,” you hissed. You were starting to fear the fabric might tear if you held on any tighter.

When it seemed evident you weren’t going to give in on the top, Shane let go and turned to his pants instead. Pinning you down with one hand, he unbuckled his belt as you whimpered and pleaded that he stop. The sounds only made the mound in his pants more pronounced.

The two of you had dabbled in CNC before, but this was not that. No safeword, no fallback, no trace of consent between you, and to be frank, you were starting to get scared. The second Shane freed his cock from his boxers, you felt a surge of panic rise to your chest.

“Fuck— STOP!” Without thinking, you jerked your knee.

You hadn’t meant to hit his balls so hard. But you did. And he folded in half, seizing with pain, while you took that as your chance to slide off the bed, slip on your panties—and hightail it the fuck out of there.

Shane’s cries pierced the night air like a blade through rotted flesh. You stumbled, half-blind in the dark, and blazed a reckless path through the tents all around you. Weaving in and out of neighboring spaces, searching desperately for any lone, dim glow of a lantern to tell you someone was awake to hear your pleas if needed. But sadly, no tent was alight but yours, and the entrance to that was presently being torn open once more as Shane staggered out there himself.

“Y/N!” he bellowed.

In your haste, you’d tripped over Glenn’s knapsack. You scraped your knee, scrambled back to your feet, and tried with everything in you not to make a sound as you retreated further from Shane’s voice.

You probably looked feral, weaving in and out of tents with your knee leaking blood and your pupils grown wide with fear. You scampered fast across the rocky campgrounds and made a beeline for the woods.

Until Shane’s footsteps fell heavy mere feet away.

Quickly changing course, you dove for the nearest tent and ripped it open. When you slipped inside, zipped it up, and went crab-walking backward like a panic-stricken animal, you hardly saw much of anything else.

Had your pulse not been pounding in your ears and your gaze not glued to the front of the tent, you likely would’ve gotten a pretty good laugh at the sight behind you.

At the very least, a chuckle or a smile or a slightly sheepish blush would’ve been supplied in a second, seeing someone wide-eyed and holding his cock in a death grip just inches from your rear.

You’d unwittingly scrambled into the tent of a man who’d just been beating his dick off furiously to the thought of you—and there you were, sitting pretty in pure, unadulterated fear for the sight of your fiancé any second now. When you turned your head, your hand flew to your mouth.

“Dar— oh!”

Like before, your heads snapped in the direction of a new sound, quick to sense that it was Shane, and this time, you went crawling over to the archer without a second thought. Hardly noticing his pants were down, you leapt into his lap.

“Y/N—” Shane hissed as he tripped over something outside. You heard a clatter and a bang, the sound of a few curse words sputtered in vain, and a groan. Daryl’s arms snaked around your sides and pulled you closer.

“What’ve ya gone and done this time?” he whispered.

“Told him no,” you murmured back.

You pretended not to feel the singe of Daryl’s gaze boring straight through the side of your head. Then a little lower, to your near-bare lower half and shaking legs. It didn’t take long for him to piece together what had happened.

“Y/N,” Daryl started, far louder than you could bear. You shushed him swiftly, ignoring the flare of anger in his eyes that told you he was currently conjuring up fifty different ways to kill Shane and just aching to act on it.

“Don’t. Please,” you said.

“Did he—”

“No. I...kneed him in the balls before he got the chance.”

“Oh.”

Shane was pacing outside, like he knew you were somewhere close. He called your name every now and then, drew near enough to send you rigid with fear. Then Daryl would hold you tight, stroke your hair, or else just graze his lips on your shoulder to let you know he was there, and eventually, the fright would subside. You nestled yourself into that touch and felt something far kinder than fear for the first time in a long time.

You felt aroused.

Ever more inspired by the sound of Shane stewing, fuming outside within earshot and the nudge of Daryl’s member against your barely-clothed core. Well…you were tempted, to say the least. You just weren’t sure if Daryl would be on board for being your lightning-quick rebound fuck of the night.

You sighed as his hips moved gently against your own.

“You think maybe—” you started.

“Yeah?”

“—you might…tell me what you were doing before I barged in here?”

Even in the dark, you could sense a blush creeping up his neck. You loved to see a man like Daryl flustered.

“Oh, uh, that?” he said in half a chuckle. Glancing down at his groin and going back and forth between two thoughts in his mind, most likely. Tell you the truth or come up with a half-assed lie on the spot.

“Just…jerking off to you.”

He never had been any good at a bluff.

Your face visibly brightened in the dim glow of the tent. You tried not to let your elation get too far ahead of you, though, lest your voice raise above a whisper and draw Shane’s attention.

“Yeah? What about?”

Daryl never thought it possible for a woman’s enthusiasm in a question to turn him on, but yours did. He looked to your lips and swallowed, suddenly at a loss for how to answer.

“I…well…”

“You’re fucking dead to me, Y/N. If you don’t—”

Your fiancé’s voice was as close, and as terrifying, as it had ever been. You eased Daryl onto his back.

“Were you thinking of this?” you teased.

You made that soft semi-circular motion with your hips and watched a brand new face contort with pleasure. The footsteps outside hardly registered in your mind any longer, as your attention was singly focused on Daryl.

He fought a groan in his throat as you grazed your slick heat over his length.

You coated him with your arousal quicker than even you had expected. You knew you were turned on, but never had it been like that, where you were damn near dripping sweet nectar all over a man’s cock. You let a little whine leave your lips.

You couldn’t help it; your cunt rocked back and forth over Daryl’s fat, throbbing cock and made obscene sounds as you did. The archer’s hands found your hips and gently guided you up and down as his own moans struggled to break loose.

You could’ve stayed like that forever, you figured—if you hadn’t been so fucking wet that the head of his cock slipped inside of your heat the second you and Daryl bucked your hips together. An inch was quick to stretch to seven before you could think or blink or do anything else but groan in pleasure, and suddenly, he was bottoming out inside you.

“Fuck!” Daryl hissed.

“Daryl!”

“Daryl?”

Fucking Shane, of all voices you didn’t want to hear in that moment. Fortunately, he’d heard Daryl’s voice alone and not the sound of your moan, calling his name at the same time, for entirely different reasons, it seemed.

Daryl gritted his teeth as you bounced on his cock,

“Yeah?”

“I’m looking for Y/N. You seen her, brother?”

Seen you, felt you, fucked you, yeah—he had.

Daryl closed his eyes and tried not to blow his load on the spot as you squeezed around him.

“No— no, I haven’t. Not since earlier,” he grunted.

“You sure?” Shane pressed, dissatisfied, “I heard her running around this way.”

You braced your knees against the ground and rode the man beneath you even harder, taking every ounce of resentment you felt toward Shane out on Daryl’s cock. Fuck if revenge sex didn’t feel nice when the object of your ire was standing right outside the tent.

You almost wanted to moan, wanted to whimper, but were quick to think better of it the longer you spent moving up and down his length. Seeing shades of lust in his eyes like never before, you just couldn’t bear the thought of having to pry yourself off any time soon.

Daryl sank his fingers into your thighs and sighed, leaving ten perfect crescents in their wake.

“Don’t you fuckin’ stop,” he murmured.

“Could ya— could you come outside and help me look?”

‘Come the fuck on’ seemed to be the silent, shared sentiment between you and Daryl as your bodies writhed fast against each other and your highs came close into view. You braced your hands against his chest and begged him not to answer with your eyes, but you also knew Daryl couldn’t not say something to him, either.

“I…I’m sure she’s fine.” Daryl tried, weakly.

He flipped you over so you were flat on your back, hands careful not to make much noise or cause you discomfort as he did. Cock never leaving your wet, greedy hole, he found it easier than ever to resume the pace you’d made above him—now pounding you quietly into his sleeping pad.

You gripped his back and, simultaneously, bit down on his shoulder to keep from letting out a shriek when he grazed a particularly sensitive spot inside you. Tried not to whine when he hit it again. And again. And again.

Shane was growing impatient. Hovered close to the front of the tent so you could see the outline of his shadow.

“You got something better to do, Dixon?” he snapped.

Yeah, fuck your fiancée, Daryl thought with a smirk. You wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him even deeper.

That light, airy feeling preceding ecstasy was close at hand. You wanted to give in—let the levee break and just relish the sweet sensation quick to follow—but you knew you couldn’t. Knew yourself too well to be a screamer not to hold on a little longer, until Shane had left.

But the way Daryl’s cock was pumping in and out of you at present made it hard, to say the least.

“Just…tired, ‘s’all,” Daryl groaned close to your ear.

“Tired from what?!” Shane jeered, “Wrist been hurtin’ from how hard you’ve been jerkin’ it to Y/N, huh?”

You almost burst out laughing. Daryl quickly cupped your mouth. Fucked you harder to shut you up.

And shut up you did; but not for long, you feared. The faster he pounded you, the more that coil in your stomach came to swell, and soon enough you might—

“Eat shit, Walsh.”

“Just help me out. Please.”

Daryl shook his head and fucked you harder, much to your chagrin. You didn’t want him to stop, but you needed him to, in truth, or that swollen thing inside of you just might get the better of you and burst. You pressed your hands to his chest and tried to whimper something softly, but Daryl just hushed you with his hand to your mouth and kept on at that breakneck pace. Your eyes rolled back, your legs started to shake, and if Daryl hadn’t had to tear his attention away to say something to Shane, he might have seen how close you were to blowing your cover…before it was too late.

With one more stroke inside your wet, sensitive hole, you felt a cord inside you snap and a flurry of wild, unbridled bliss take over, stronger than you’d felt in ages.

A shriek desperate to escape your throat, your teeth raked down Daryl’s flesh with the force of it, and, instinctively, the man yanked his hand away and yelped.

You hated to do it, but the feeling was just too good. Your lips parted to release one of the most lewd and obscene sex screams of your life—with Daryl’s name following over and over as you came.

Daryl’s eyes grew to half the size of his face, it seemed. Stilling inside you, feeling your sweet, hot juices flow down him in waves, he sat there and couldn’t quite decide if he was more turned on or terrified.

When Shane tore through the fabric of the tent and charged inside, he figured it out pretty quickly, though.

[wonjns]

overawe — j.sc

⌗ pairing. . . jung sungchan x male reader

⌗ genre. . . smut

⌗ summary. . . uh oh, somebody made sungchan jealous (it wasn't even your fault).

⌗ includes. . . intimidating!bf!sungchan, sub!reader, possessive chan, a lil toxic, size kink, orgasm prolonging, nipple play/hickeys, unprotected sex (don’t irl !!), mdni.

⌗ wc. 1.2k

°A/N. . . requested by anon ✓ "Hey Luca!! Just here to request a jealous!sungchan with his younger bf who was paying attention to the other members too much 🫣 Sungchan knows he shouldn't be so upset but he just can't help it..." // hiii i hope you like it!! its nothing special really, just your run-of-the-mill jealousy fic but with sungchan, anything is hot 🥵

it was almost twisted how much control sungchan had over you without even having to do anything.

one would think it was inscribed in your dna to bend to his every will; to please him, to hear him praise you... to be his perfect, pliant boyfriend. yet, it seemed like you could do nothing but disappoint him – or at least thats what he wanted you to think.

something in sungchan's brain always itched just right when he would watch you break down in front of him. he loved how all it took was a stern glare to get you muttering a mantra of apologies, all but sinking to your knees for his mercy whenever you did something he didn't approve.

you can't help but reminisce the time you slightly rose your voice at him in the grocery store, just to end up sucking him off in the parking lot for 30 minutes solely to win back his forgiveness.

you remember your knees digging into his mustang's carpet flooring while looking up at his shirtless body, toned abs rippling as his head was thrown back, showing off his adams apple while he called you his good boy. you didn't even cum that day, but your cock was practically drooling at that sight for the rest of the week.

this time, you knew you were in trouble before he could even get a word out.

here you both were, the only ones who remained in your shared apartment after ushering all of your friends out after a long night together.

you were close with a lot of your mutual friends, especially shotaro, and it showed in the way the two of you were attached at the hip the entire evening.

your innocent physical affection and loud giggles were enough to catch the attention of a certain sungchan, who you knew you’d have to deal with from the way his eyebrow quirked dauntingly in your direction.

as soon as the front door closed, it felt as if an overbearing storm rage conjured itself in your home, hovering dangerously above your head. you knew this feeling was because of sungchan, the foreboding pheromones radiating off of his huge, 6'2 frame.

"i'm gonna get a glass of water," you sighed aloud, timidly making your way back to the kitchen in attempt to escape the rising tension.

but before you could even grab a glass from the cabinet, you felt sungchan's looming presence behind you. you'd successfully predicted that when you turned around, you'd see his towering form looking down at you with that gut churning smirk, silent as a mouse.

his accusing glare bore into yours, the slightest smirk dancing across his plump lips as he reached up into the cabinet behind you, lowering an empty glass in your hands without breaking eye contact for even a second.

"i-i'm sorry." you muttered, glancing to the tile below.

"what are you apologizing for, baby?" sungchan replied, his voice entirely too relaxed and unassuming for the anxiety it was causing you.

"i... uhm, it just..." you stuttered, breath hitching in your throat when you felt sungchan's long fingers tilt your chin up to catch your eyes directly once more. "i wasn't doing anything on purpose."

that earned you a low chuckle from him as he placed both large hands on his hips.

"are you feeling guilty for letting shotaro throw himself all over you? letting him treat you like his own slut right in front of me?" sungchan inquired, dipping his head down closer to yours.

his voice was sickeningly sweet, and you knew he was trying to lure you into a false sense of security. but you had been with him too long, you knew exactly what the steaming temperature between your two bodies meant. your skin felt on fire and he wasn't even touching you anymore.

the proximity of his face to yours was making you dizzy, feeling a certain muscle in your boxers begin to stir. you struggled to hold his eye contact, squirming under his glare as he flashed you another of his signature smirks, dripping in arrogance.

god, he knew what he was doing.

his physical prowess alone was more than enough to make your head fuzzy, but what really made you weak in the knees was his damn aura. he was just so dominating without even trying. he never yelled at you, or ever even harmed you, but the way in which he spoke was enough to make you melt into a worthless puddle on the floor. the slick tone of his voice had a talent to completely rewire and chip away at your brain until you could think of nothing else but him, and fuck it was a skill he never hesitated to use.

your taller boyfriend felt his heart leaping the more you fidgeted - shrinking smaller beneath him at his accusation.

"taro was just being friendly," you try to defend, twisting your fingers around one another. "i swear, babe... i swear."

"you don't get to call me that after ignoring me all night, sunshine."

you became aware just how much sungchan had inched closer to you when you feel one his veiny hands running up your thigh, the tips of his fingers lighting up paths on your skin as they traveled underneath your shirt.

his heavy gaze was still locked on to yours, just daring you to look away. you wouldn't... you couldn't.

you knew the repercussions, but in a slightly concerning way, the thought always had your stomach churning with butterflies and anticipation.

"you're gonna have to make it up to me, baby boy."

"fuck, channie, please!" you moaned, hands clawing at the exposed tan skin of your boyfriend's muscular back.

he had bottomed his cock out in you forever ago, and somehow still had the restraint to not move once, despite your endless pleas and whimpers. instead, he took to sucking mark after mark onto the thin skin of your collarbones and chest.

you'd be rich by now if you had a dollar for every time sungchan had guided you to just the peak of your climax by stroking your leaky cock while sucking on your hardened nipples, just to cruelly stop all ministrations and let your orgasm ebb away.

you had come so close to release you could almost taste it on your tongue, shaking in the frustration of denial only seconds later while hearing sungchan chuckle deeply at you. he thought your begging, paired with your tears and involuntary tremble of your lips, was the cutest thing in the whole world.

"awh, is my baby getting aggravated? i know he probably wants to cum so bad." he coo's in the second person, gently kissing your face before licking up the trail of a fallen tear. he groans at how your ass clenches on his throbbing cock inside of you. "shit, why did you have to go and make me punish you, prince? i could be fucking you senseless right now. isn't that what you want?"

you choke out another sob while nodding your head desperately, clinging to his broad naked shoulders whose grooves make your mind bleary.

"are you gonna be good for me from now on?" he taunts, raising an eyebrow as he reaches between your bodies to start stroking your desperate cock again.

"y-yes! fuck, yes, sungchan. i promise."

"and no more letting other people flirt with you? you know they could never make you feel the way i do." he smirks, cooing once more when you nod and lean up to kiss him again.

sungchan pushes his tongue into your mouth, purposefully muffling your high pitched moans when he starts thrusting inside of you.

he's huge, just like the rest of his body, and he always managed to snatch the breath from your lungs whenever you feel his cock beginning to bulge in your stomach from the power of his hips.

your thighs clamp around his slightly sweaty torso, pulling his body closer to yours for him to reach even deeper. your breathless groans flurried into the air as sungchan return to sucking on your sore adams apple, intentionally making sure you felt the ridges of his abs gliding along your cock.

with needy hands roaming mindlessly from his back, to his biceps, up to his neck, you felt your climax rapidly approaching for the umpteens time that hour - you choked out his name while tangling a hand in his shaggy hair.

"i fucking love you, y/n." sungchan all but growled, earning his length another clench from your ass. "you'll always be mine, right? my good boy."

"yes, yes i love you so much." you whimpered. "i- i love you, i love your cock, and the way you make me feel. i'm yours. forever, channie."

your mindless babbling was all it took, the bands in both of your stomachs snapping. you shared a loud, guttural moan in unison as you came at the same time. the sweet rush of finally being allowed to release made your spine tremble, and you swore you saw a firework of stars behind the eyelids you squeezed shut. you shook as your arousal shot up onto sungchan's chest, while he shamelessly emptied out his inside of you.

"oh my god, thank you." you whined repeatedly as your boyfriend's hips began to slow, carefully landing the both of you back to stability.

his large frame eased on to your sweaty one, but you didn't mind at all. you could only feel euphoria in your veins, grateful that sungchan decided to stay sheathed inside you for a little bit despite his cock beginning to soften.

this was everything you'd ever wanted - the feeling of him inside of you with his supple lips kissing the sides of your face, whispering the sweetest of praises.

"always mine." sungchan mumbled one last time, before you both began drifting to sleep.

[magicalbats]

Kinktober 2024 Day 6: Lighter x Reader

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 6664

Warnings: Afab!reader, friends with benefits, casual sex, body worship, mirror sex, blowjob, deep throating, brief cunnilingus, piv

A/N: This guy is so cool, I really hope this doesn't end up being too ooc since he was only just introduced and we still don't know a whole lot about him. 🫣

⭐

Nights out in the desert lean towards chilly but with a raging bonfire going you almost don’t even notice it. Not until you step away from the hotly licking flames anyway, and then you find yourself burrowing deeper into your coat for insulation from the wind. If the need to find some trouble to get into hadn’t been brewing like a storm in the back of your mind you would have been perfectly content to stay right where you were for the rest of the evening until it came time for bed, but that persistent tug has you scanning through the gathered crowd for an all too familiar face. 

You spot Lucy and Caesar easily enough, though as usual they were a little hard to miss when they couldn’t seem to get along for more than five minutes at a time. Sometimes you wondered how they managed to work together at all given the obvious tensions between them but it wasn’t really your place to pry. The Sons of Calydon were good to the people who made Blazewood their home and you liked them better than some of the other biker gangs at least. Eccentricities aside, they were just fine in your book. 

Neither of them were the one you sought though, so you keep making your way around the perimeter of the crowded area. It wasn’t often that everyone gathered for a celebration like this but the Sons, true to nature, tended to liven up the place whenever they came through. One of the many services you probably owed them thanks for. 

And then you finally spot him, just when you were starting to wonder if he’d turned in for an early night. Slouched in a banged up lawn chair someone had dug out from who only knows where with a stout glass full of something dark braced on the bend of his knee. Cool and casual. Yep, that was Lighter down to the letter. 

Stuffing your hands into the pockets of your jacket, you shuffle over to come up alongside where he’s sat in a loosely formed circle with a handful of other men, no doubt shooting the shit with each other which you thoroughly interrupt with your appearance. That he’d retreated to this reclusive side of the field where the girls were less likely to impede on his very important masculine brooding with like minded individuals does not escape your notice but too bad for him. 

You were not someone Lighter could easily ignore just as you had a hard time ignoring him whenever he happened to be around, and you allow yourself a small smile when he tips his head back to look up at you through the tinted lenses of his sunglasses. Still wearing them even now, when it was completely dark out and he probably couldn’t make out much of anything through them as a result. What a dork. 

“Hey.”

“Hey yourself.” He volleys right back, not missing a beat as he bobs his chin at you in relaxed greeting. “Good to see you. I was wondering if you’d stop by to pay me a visit tonight.” 

“Putting aside the fact that I always come see you, don’t you think it might be nice if you were the one who came to me sometimes? I’ve been standing over by the fire for a while now.”

A vaguely mischievous smile pulls at his mouth. “What, you want me to start following you around like a lovesick pup now? I seem to recall you giving me completely different instructions before.” 

“All I’m saying is some initiative might win you a few favors in the long run.” You shoot back, pinning Lighter with a playfully rueful look while you try very hard not to laugh. 

“Well, a man could always use more favors. What sort of initiative were you hoping for?” 

“Please, why would I tell you and ruin the fun of watching you try to figure it out on your own? And besides, it wouldn’t count for much if I just gave you all the answers.” 

This back and forth game with him already has you feeling eager and excited while you stand there, idly rocking on your toes in anticipation of his next move. But then he noises a brief sound of rumbling consideration before reaching out to suddenly snag your forearm with a hand gloved in leather. 

It happens much too quick for you to pull away or react beyond the giggling squeak you let out when he yanks you down across his lap. The two of you had known each other for a very long time now and these sorts of physical exchanges were common enough that no one really questioned it any more, though you’re still keenly aware of the other men that are gathered around politely turning their attention elsewhere. Breaking off into their own smaller groups, starting up their own snippets of conversation. It’s like they didn’t even see the two of you sitting there anymore, which comes as a relief while you work to get settled into place atop his legs, using a hand curved over his broad shoulder for stability. 

You and Lighter weren’t actually together, nor were you an item in any sense of the word, but you also weren’t just friends either. Everyone knew that so there wasn’t much point in hiding it. A lot of good it would have done you anyway when the communities scattered across the Outer Ring were so small and tight knit that keeping secrets often felt like an impossibility. 

So you look down into his face head on, openly grinning now as he minutely shifts underneath you to get comfortable again. He’s so firm and sturdy that it takes a great deal of self control on your part not to start kissing him right then and there. The two of you might not try all that hard to hide whatever was going on here but you still had some polite sensibilities left to your name. 

“Alright, sugar,” He intones, juggling his drink over to the opposite hand so he can casually set his arm across your lap while the other loosely curls around your hip. Just to make sure you don’t accidentally fall off, you’re sure. “I’m listening. Tell me what it is you want.”

“I’d think that should be obvious by now.” 

“You’re insatiable.”

“Only when it comes to you.” Lightly teasing a finger over one of the metal spikes on his biker jacket, you give him a pointed little smile. “Maybe if I saw you more often than every few weeks I’d get bored of it but you know how to keep a girl coming back for more, don’t you? Never give her enough to get complacent, just enough to become addicted.” 

“Hey now. That makes me sound like some kind of scheming playboy. I’m sure you know I’d give it to you every day if I could.” 

Your pussy distantly clenches at the thought, and you sit up a little straighter to subtly press down on his thigh. It was so unfair how easily he could drive you wild. Sometimes you didn’t think the playboy label was all that inaccurate, but then he’d say or do something so goofy that it completely shattered that impression of him in your mind. Despite how it looked he wasn’t actually some disloyal womanizer incapable of commitment, just someone with a lot of baggage and a long past. That’s all. 

But really, who couldn’t say the same in the Outer Ring? 

“That’s sweet but you shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep, Lighter.” 

“It’s not for a lack of wanting, trust me.” He assures you, giving the meat of your hip a brief squeeze. “The Sons have just been busy lately. You know that. But once we win the Tour de Inferno - -“ 

“You’ll have better routes and less busy work. I’ve heard it before.” Sighing softly, you lift your hand from his shoulder to reach up and cradle a mostly smooth cheek in your palm. You could just feel the faintest hint of stubble starting to grow back after his morning shave much earlier in the day but the scratch of it registers as pleasant rather than disagreeable. “It doesn’t really matter in the end I guess. No strings attached, that was what we agreed on. I just worry about you sometimes. Even if it’s not for me, at least try to swing by more often so I can feed you. I’ll even make extra for the girls.” 

“I’m sure they’ll like that.” He murmurs, peering at you now over the top of his shades with an unwavering, plainly heated look that makes a shudder work down your spine. 

You stare into his face for another moment longer until the magnetic pull of his mouth becomes too much for you to resist, and you lean down to claim those sinfully inviting lips for yourself. Lighter readily returns the favor with a steady push and pull that only coaxes you further into your vibrating need for him, unable to reject it even if you’d wanted to. 

And you most certainly don’t want to. 

Realizing that you really can’t wait any longer to have him, you pull back just enough to speak against his mouth. “Take me home, Lighter. I want to be alone with you.” 

“If that’s what you want.” He husks, his tone dropped to a secretive but no less simmering drawl now. “Your wish is but my command, princess.”  

Bracing to stand, you ready to hop up from his lap but he manages to catch you off guard when he locks his arm around your middle and carefully eases himself out of the chair so he can rise to his feet with a rumbling groan for effect. You weren’t exactly a delicate waif but he’d picked you up far too many times for you to be surprised by his strength, and your pulse just quickens in excitement while you dangle a foot or so off the ground from his hold. 

Pausing there, Lighter lifts his glass to his mouth and tips his head back to down the whole thing in a quick gulp. You watch him do it with attentive fascination, admiring the defined line of his jaw and the thick bob of his Adam’s apple, but then he’s gently sliding you down to stand on your own and you take a reluctant step back from him. Everyone who’d come out for the bonfire didn’t need to see him carrying you off into the night like a caveman so you couldn’t argue the logic in letting you walk by yourself. But that doesn’t stop you from missing the warmth of his body pressed up against you, or the heady scent of him drowning out your sense of smell. 

Soon enough that would be rectified though, and together the two of you start to make your way back towards the gas station in companionable silence. 

It’s a quiet walk save the drone of conversation and the occasional shouts behind you, but those noises gradually fade the further you get from the gathering. Most of the locals had gone out into the nearby barren field to join the Sons of Calydon in celebrating their return trip from the transport they’d just completed, so the tiny outpost is perfectly still and peaceful when you reach it. 

Even calling it a town would have been quite the stretch when the outcrop of buildings and trailers, and decrepit mobile homes that spring up around the gas station in the center of it had only come into being out of necessity. Blazewood was at best an encampment of refugees but there were a lot of places like that left behind after the Hollow Disaster so it doesn’t look half as depressing as it probably actually is. It’s the only thing you’d ever really known with any familiarity though, and to you it’s home. 

Lighter was too much a roving nomad to have anything similar, save perhaps his band of fellow bikers, but there’s a small part of you that hopes he thinks of your tiny little motel as a kind of home too. He’d certainly been here more than enough times to be intimately familiar with the place and you by extension. 

Treading the exact same steps the two of you had walked many times before, you make your way into the back of what was at one time a supplies building. Your father had worked tirelessly to repurpose it into a place for lodgings, so that the traveling biker gangs would have somewhere to rest at night during their long hauls, and you’d naturally inherited the place from him when you were old enough. Although it had put a bit of a damper on any aspirations you’d once harbored about joining one of the gangs yourself, you’re admittedly glad for it now since it gave you some place to safely retreat to with Lighter at the end of the day. 

You certainly weren’t going to take him to your own room and fuck him on your own bed. That was one of the rules you’d established at the start of all this, more than just a few years ago now. At first it had been solely for practical reasons. Didn’t want him getting the wrong idea or, even worse, give yourself a chance to be fooled into thinking that this was somehow more meaningful than it actually was. He didn’t need to have access to your personal space like that. 

But by now it had become something of a safe neutral zone where both of you could simply let go of whatever roles and responsibilities, obligations and preconceptions you carried with you. Everyone had baggage in the Outer Rings, and neither you or Lighter were any different in that regard. 

But the good news was that both of your tastes aligned in the most delightful of ways, and as you step into your favorite room your eyes come up to look into the reflective surface of the floor length mirror hung on the wall. Between the bed and the claustrophobicbly small toilet closet there wasn’t much else in the tight space to look at. One of the bikers from the previous generation had gifted it to your father after finding it by chance in an old and abandoned warehouse. Evidently it was the only mirror that had still been in one piece after sitting forgotten for so long, and he’d carefully hauled it all the way back to Blazewood in his trailer. 

You suspected your father had at one time toyed with the notion of using this place as a brothel of sorts to make a little extra money on the side, but after you were born shortly thereafter it seemed he no longer had the heart to follow through on it. That was fine though, because this room and its mirror had still seen more than its fair share of action thanks to you and Lighter. 

The door clicks shut behind you with a sense of finality as you tread across the rough carpet and you eagerly turn to him, just in time for his hands to come up and cradle your cheeks. Firmly tilting your face up at him, he bends down to kiss you again but this time it’s not nearly as polite as it was when you’d had an audience watching. 

His mouth is hungry against yours now, matching your own need to feel him against you, on top of you, inside of you. Groaning softly, you rock forward onto the tips of your toes to better accommodate the height difference and reach up to thread your fingers through his shaggy hair. It’s soft but dry against your skin from all the wind and sand grit that naturally came with riding a motorcycle in the desert, yet you still relish the feel of it against you.

Giving it a slow tug, you tip your head to deepen the exchange and allow his tongue entry to your mouth when it prods at your lips. All at once the taste of him overwhelms your olfactory system in a potent rush made all the more intoxicating by the strong notes of whiskey you can clearly pick up on your tastebuds. You noise a quiet sound of ratcheting pleasure against his mouth while his hands descend upon your body to take greedy, squeezing grabs at whatever part of you he can reach. 

Lighter quickly loses patience for all the clothes standing between the two of you though, and he’s soon tugging at your coat to get it unzipped and tossed aside. You do the same with his leather jacket, fumbling to get it shoved back over his shoulders which he accommodates by helpfully stretching his arms down to let it fall to the floor. Then he’s right back to groping at you through your jeans, giving your ass a tight pinch before redirecting them around to your hips so he can steer you backwards. 

Still kissing his mouth with wild abandon, you let him guide you back to stand almost directly in front of the mirror where you finally manage to pry yourself from him only enough to get his t-shirt pulled up over his head. It leaves him standing there naked from the waist up, his already unruly hair more mussed than it was before, and you quickly bend your head close to flick your tongue over a pert nipple. 

Sighing a low rumble of appreciation, Lighter lifts one of his hands to briefly cradle the back of your head while the other reaches down to tug his belt loose. You know what’s coming and you just purr into his skin as you kiss over the planes of his chest to feel the faint tickle of sparse hair against your lips. Giving his bare sides an encouraging squeeze when the sound of his buckle rattling makes your cunt tighten in anticipation, you latch onto the opposite bud to offer it a taunting love bite. 

But by that time he’s got his thick jeans undone and the hand in your hair closes into a fist, using his hold on you to pull you up with a faltering sound of delight. The tug on your scalp is just sharp enough to make you really want it, stumbling a single, uncertain step before he forces you down onto your knees. You’re so hot with want and fast pumping adrenaline that you don’t even think to fight it as he directs your face to the front of his pants where he somewhat meanly grinds the stiff bulge inside across your mouth. 

Whining a needy little sound in the back of your throat, you quickly reach up to pull his pants down so you can shove your face into his underwear full on. You immediately take a deep, savory inhale to taste the distinct smell of him on the back of your tongue, feeling your slit leak sticky gossamer into your panties while you do it. Gods, he smelled heavenly. 

“Damn,” He issues a barely there groan in response, nudging his hips forward to press his cock tighter against your nose while he distractedly lifts his hands up to pull his gloves off one by one. “You’re gonna’ be the death of me at this rate, sugar. Maybe it’s for the best I can’t come see you more often. I don’t think there’d be anything left of me.” 

That brings a smile to your face as you roll your eyes upward to pin him with a sly look. He probably wasn’t wrong about that. It hadn’t taken you long to realize that most men struggled to keep pace with you but for his part Lighter certainly made the effort whenever he could. You’d likely have him completely drained within a week. 

It’s clear the powerful champion of Calydon isn’t intimidated though, and he gives his sunglasses a quick adjustment where they’d started to inch down — insisting they stay on even now, the goof — before shuffling back half a step. 

You almost catch yourself mewling a quiet sound of disappointment but then he’s bending low to hook his fingers in the hem of your top and pull it up. An impressively well practiced motion of his hand soon has your bra falling loose around your shoulders before it quickly joins everything else on the floor in a rumpled heap of all your discarded clothes. 

An intense tremble works through your body at the sensation of your bare tits cutting through the air, already stiff and seeking attention. Still bending at the waist, Lighter takes a moment to briefly cup your breasts in his calloused palms and lift them, encouraging you to arch your back to better present your chest. He hunches even closer then and gives each nipple a savory kiss to tease the sensitive flesh, eliciting another groan of pleasure from you when he moves to straighten up again. 

One of his hands is immediately back in your hair and he roughly pulls you in against him as he closes the distance, rubbing your face against his cock once again. Unable to go another moment without him in your mouth, you dig your fingers into his dark boxer briefs so you can yank them down to pool in his jeans where they were still tucked into his boots. 

The hard length of him promptly springs up into the scant space between you and just brushes the kiss swollen pucker of your mouth to leave behind a faintly sticky trail. Bracing one hand on a powerfully lean thigh, you use the other to take hold of him in a tight grip and give it a few perfunctory tugs to ease the foreskin back. You can clearly see the flushed glans glinting in the overhead light with a sheen of sticky arousal which you coquettishly lick up to get your first taste of him for the evening. 

Groaning quietly in appreciation, Lighter settles into a wide legged stances with his feet braced far apart while the hand on your head firmly guides you forward to take him in. And you do so with great enthusiasm, sliding your mouth down to about the halfway point of his shaft where the head of him starts to tickle at your throat. 

From the corner of your eye you can just make out what’s happening in the reflection of the mirror, the tall tell bob of your head while you work him over with your tongue to build up more saliva and the very noticeable way your tits shift with the motion. It makes you feel ten times hotter, squirming there on the floor at his feet while you watch yourself suck him off. As far as visuals go it was incredibly satisfying to observe in real time, which was exactly why both of you loved this room so much. You’d had to use a different one on a few occasions, when he’d shown up unexpectedly and this room was already occupied by someone else, but it was never the same. Nothing quite compared to the front row seat you had here, getting to watch him fuck you and go down on you, to see yourself spread out on his thick cock and pushed straight to the limit of your physical abilities. 

They made video recording devices in the city, or so you’d heard, and you had half a mind to try it out sometime with him just to get a different perspective. But such technology didn’t last long all the way out here when the ether corruption was so high that most anything that wasn’t analogue didn’t survive for even a whole month. The mirror had served you well up until now though, and you savoringly pull back as you turn your head to watch the shuddering string of spittle stretch between his stiff cock and your mouth before breaking apart. 

Looking into your own reflection, you’re struck by how very needy you look in that moment with eyes blown wide under the heavy droop of your lashes and flushed, kiss swollen lips coated in a sheen of saliva. Lighter knows you a little too well though, and he rumbles a masculine sound when he shifts the position of his hand to better grip your hair so he can turn your face up and around to make you look at him instead. 

“Getting distracted there, sugar?”

Feeling punchdrunk on something stronger than any drink you’d had at the bonfire, you blithely nod your head in agreement. He hadn’t really needed to ask and the way he pins you with a barely there smirk assures you he’d already known the answer. But that was how the two of you played this game no matter how overly familiar you got with each other's bodies, and yet it never seemed to truly get old. 

Neither does the way he expertly uses the fistful of hair he’s got in his hold to force your mouth back down, rudely shoving his cock past lips and teeth, and a squirming tongue so he can prod at the back of your throat. The glide of satiny flesh is smooth and nearly seamless when he sedately thrusts his hips back and forth, back and then forth again, thanks in no small part to the excess of spit forming along your palate. And you just keep drooling all the more excessively the longer he does it, coaxing your salivary glands to work overtime for him until you can feel it bubbling out to dribble down your chin.

Only then does Lighter at last shove himself forward in tortuous slow motion to slide down your gullet one sinful inch at a time. You feel the customary jump in your pulse at suddenly finding your airway blocked and the alarm of pressure pushing in on your throat but force yourself to relax into it. The eventual tickle of coarse pubic hair brushing your nose lets you know when you’ve taken it all and you gurgle a wet sound of pleasure around his length when he makes a point of grinding your face down, holding you there for a prolonged beat. 

Then he’s pulling you back, using your hair to smoothly guide your neck where he wants it to go and dislodge himself from your throat in the process. A fresh wave of copious, sticky spit comes out with him, leaving you kneeling there gasping for air as thick wads of saliva roll down your face. You blearily glance up through the reflexive moisture in your eyes while he gives you a moment to catch your breath only to suck in a rattling gasp when you see how very wrecked you look in the mirror. But he’s not quite through with your mouth just yet, and he repeats the process a handful of times more until you’re dizzily swaying at his feet from the head rush. 

You’re so delirious with it, in fact, that by the time he bends down to get on your level again you almost don’t even notice how close he suddenly is. Not until Lighter takes your wet face between his hands and angles your attention up at him. Reeling and hungry to have his mouth on yours, you eagerly rock forward to catch his lips, but he keeps you firmly in place while he presumably looks over your expression. 

It was sometimes hard to tell through those damned sunglasses. 

“Still doing good, princess?” 

“Y - yeeah …” You groan, forcing your neck to work on an unsteady bob. 

“Good.” Swooping in too quick for you to react, he presses a hard, firm kiss to your temple and then pulls away so he can carefully unwind his fingers from your hair. 

Even this late in the game you still know what he’s about to do because the two of you have done this about a hundred different times now. Same song, different dance — and yet that doesn’t stop the little squeak of excitement you give when he grabs under your arms to lift you up off the floor. Without his jacket in the way you can see all the tension running through his muscles, scarred skin bulging under the strain of your weight, but he doesn’t even falter. He’s as steady as solid iron, and just as strong too. 

Smoothly turning on his heel, Lighter tosses you onto the bed where you bounce once, twice, then his hands are on your hips to yank you back closer to the edge. Panting and breathless, you glance up at him while he stands between your legs, heavy hands working to get your jeans unfastened. His shades have slid forward on the bridge of his nose at some point in all that messing around, and he now sends you a steely look from over the top of them. 

“What did I say?” He murmurs, the fond note in his voice doing little to soften the masculine rumble behind the words. “Insatiable.” 

“Not my fault.” You purr back, grinning. “Maybe you should try being less amazing in the sheets.” 

Sending you a rueful look, Lighter grabs the top of your open pants and yanks them down your legs, knocking your shoes off in process with a dull thump on the floor. Your panties are quick to go next and, momentarily left to your own devices while he kicks off his own boots and jeans, you roll over onto your stomach so you can jut your ass up in the air. Giving it a playful, taunting wiggle, you glance back at him over your shoulder with a sly smile. 

Alright, so he wasn’t wrong. You were insatiable, but could anyone really blame you? 

Cooly watching the display from under his tousled hair, he shoots you a quick look of warning while he leans down to get his underwear pulled off. The weighty bob of his cock between his legs makes you pussy clench and you bite down on your lip as you invitingly arch your back for him. 

“Careful, sugar. You’re looking for trouble tonight.” 

“Mmm, then why don’t you come punish me?” 

He scoffs a hushed laugh at the taunt, casually stepping into the space between your dangling feet again. Both of his hands come down on your ass at the same time, the deafening crack doing more to startle a sound of surprise out of you than the starburst of pain that comes with it, but it’s quickly followed by an appreciative groan when he squeezes the cheeks pinchingly tight and spreads them open. 

You feel him lean close then and you screw your eyes shut, seething a sensitive whine through your teeth when he runs his tongue from one end of your slit straight down to the other, getting a good taste of your arousal along the way. He takes a moment to just leisurely eat you out from the back like he had all night to wind you up tighter and tighter, the firm nudge of him against your clit making your thighs judder. It doesn’t last long enough to send you over the edge though, just encouraging you a little closer to the edge of oblivion before he straightens up behind you again. 

Stretching, Lighter reaches around you then to snag one of the pillows from the headboard which he tosses down next to your head before moving to sit next to you. At his hushed coaxing, you stiffly sit up and let him pull you over into his lap where you eagerly lean into him for a kiss, soft tits pushing into the firm planes of his chest. 

He indulges you only briefly though, letting you get a good taste of yourself on his tongue before pulling back enough to speak. “Turn around for me, princess. Gonna’ make you watch while I split that little cunt in half. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” 

Just hearing him talk like that makes every single nerve ending in your body tense up to the point of real discomfort and you shudder fiercely even as you work to get spun around, tossing your leg over his hip so you can get settled across Lighter’s stomach. But even knowing good and well how strong he is wasn’t quite enough to fully ease your concerns about sitting on top of him. It makes you carefully hold yourself so you don’t put too much of your weight on him but he’s quick to smooth his palms down your sides to take bruising hold of your hips, forcing you to sit all the way and keeping you locked right where you are. 

While he gets situated behind you, laying back on the pillow he’d grabbed, you steal a harried glance at yourself in the mirror. Somehow this part always manages to surprise you, how soft and voluptuous you look against all the hard muscle and masculine angles of his body. Tits heavy and full, your pussy shamelessly spread open for him and the rigid length of him spearing up in the air between your legs. The visual alone is enough to nearly send you into free fall, and the knowledge that he was about to stuff that thick cock inside your body … you felt like you were going to cum before he even put it in you. 

“Nnghn, Lighter … fuck!” 

He softly shushes you, jostling you slightly as he at last tightens his fingers on your hips to lift your pelvis and guide your cunt into position over him. The shift forces you to go up on your toes, hands splayed out behind you across his flexing abdominals to steady your balance. 

And you can’t seem to tear your eyes away from the reflection now when he uses his braced feet on the floor to push up, sending his cock skirting along your sticky slit. You suck in a wet, faltering breath, arching your back to better angle your pussy down. He tries again, slipping and sliding through soaked fleshy lips, and the glans successfully catches at your entrance on the second attempt. 

You almost breathe a shuddering sigh of relief but then he’s pushing into you, good on his word of making you watch him split you in half. The gummy stretch of your body gradually taking him in one fraction of an inch at a time makes you feel faint from how hard your arousal spikes but you deliriously force yourself to keep watching. It’s fascinating, in a way, how his length slowly disappears inside you and demands your tight inner sleeve make room for him until he’s finally sheathed in you straight down to the base. 

Sitting there on top of him like that, cunt stuffed full and blissfully aching, you let out a low, mewling groan of satisfaction as your head starts to loll back as if in a doped out stupor. That little bit of reprieve in which he allows you to adjust is short lived though, and Lighter issues a rumbling groan of his own when he starts to move. 

The immediate heavy bounce of his ballsack excites you almost as much as the heavy jiggle of your tits does, and you cry out at the blindingly sharp bursts of ecstasy that shoot through your system each time he takes an upward jab up into your guts. You can see everything clearly in the mirror from your own pleasure stricken expression and the sweat coating your body down to the vigorous flex of muscle along his thighs. It doesn’t take long for it to start feeling overwhelming in this position though, your cunt completely defenseless and at his mercy like this, and your legs soon begin to tremble when the internal pressure steadily climbs. But the meaty slap of his pelvis driving against your ass and the accompanying wet clicks of your pussy sucking him in deep almost overwhelms any other sounds, and you nearly miss the hushed grunt of his voice when he speaks over your own desperate bleating. 

“Goddamn, you’re taking me so well, sugar … nnghnohh, yeeaah. You like that dick in your little pussy, huh? Already getting so tight for me … aghh, gonna’ cum all over this cock, aren’t you? Gonna be a good girl for me?” 

“Y - yes! I’m - I’m gonna’ — ahhghnn!”

Unable to take the relentless pounding anymore, you gingerly try to lift your lower body from the total onslaught but he just squeezes your hips hard enough to bruise, holding you firmly in place. There’s no escape from him or his cock, and you shudderingly squirm on top of him as your cresting pleasure just continues to climb higher and higher. It was like he was specifically made to fit you, each little ridge and veiny bump along his shaft perfectly stoking the blaze inside your body until it felt like you were going to combust. 

Still, it wasn’t quite enough to tip you over the edge though, and you precariously hang there in the balance, sobbing in pleasure, until he at last slides one of his hands inward to direct the blocky fingers towards your slit. You can see his intention clearly in the mirror's reflection but with your own hands braced behind you there’s nothing you can do to stop it from happening. Gently at first, then more vigorously, Lighter rubs over your clit with a steady motion that quickly has you teetering over into the awaiting abyss below. 

And for a split second you get to watch yourself cum, get to see the way your whole body seizes up and uncontrollably shakes, how your expression twists in deeply felt relief, before it becomes too much to bear. Your eyes screw shut as you wildly jerk through your orgasm, wailing up at the ceiling while he just continues to pet you and fuck his cock into your pulsing cunt to drag it out. 

You briefly think you might actually die there like that, stretched out on him with your heart jackhammering such a violent rhythm it seems a small wonder you don’t kick the bucket, but at last you finally start to come down from it one fragmented piece of you at a time. It’s a process to refit the pieces back together again but when you finally manage to stir from your semi comatose state, you find Lighter still slowly thrusting into your fluttering cunt to milk every lost drop out of your release. 

At the deeply ruffled, frazzled sound you let out, he seems to realize you’re starting to recover and he seamlessly flips you over onto your stomach with a well practiced twist. Stretching out over top of you to pin your heaving body down, he finds your numb hands with his own so he can direct them high up on the bed and leave you prone underneath him. 

“Well, princess,” He murmurs right into your ear to make you whine a muffled groan into the sheets. “It looks to me like you might’ve finally bitten off a bit more than you can chew. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look so tame. Still want more?” 

You quickly nod your head, trying in vain to arch your ass up into him, but it was impossible when his sturdy weight was settled on top of you like that and all you end up doing is restlessly squirming under him. It doesn’t matter though and it doesn’t stop you from trying. That was perhaps the best orgasm you’d ever had and you were still hungry for more. Voracious, even. 

“Yes, yes, yes — please, Lighter, please. Give me more.”

Softly clicking his tongue, he presses his mouth against the side of your head in another hard, toe curling kiss before pulling back enough to rumble a tender, “Insatiable brat.” 

And you really can’t argue against it.

⭐

Crossposted: here

[bigtreefest]

Hello, sweet Essie!! So we’ve met bartender!Curtis 🫠

Any thoughts (or thots) on bartender!Ari meeting a gal that’s interested in more than just his fruity drinks or getting in his pants? 😏

Hehehe, hello! Bartender!Curtis was a secret sweetie, just like his best friend.

Why, of course we can hear about Bartender!Ari!! I think he has really seen it all, so something super out of the ordinary would catch his eye. Someone who isn’t interested in him. At least not on the surface.

Here’s what I’m thinking. This…got away from me🫣 so it continues under the cut:

It’s a Thursday night, so the bar is buzzing a little, but not so much that it’s impossible to find a seat. As Ari’s topping off a beer, he sees you walk in, but when you make eye contact with him, there’s no smile, no nervous, bashful giggle. You don’t light up like most do when they see the Adonis. Instead, you just continue to drag your feet to a bar stool in between two regulars. Both hardly spare you a glance and Ari bars Curtis from walking over since you’re technically in Curtis’s section.

He makes his way over, setting a glass in front of you.

“On the house. You look like you need it”

But the thing is, you’re in no mood to accept his handout. Your voice is sharp when it comes back at him.

“What’s up with men and them thinking they know better than me!?”

You can see the shock on his face as he’s taken aback. His eyes widen, showing just how blue and surprisingly soft they are. There’s no hint of cockiness in them, at least not anymore. And that’s when you realize that you just snapped and feel terrible about it. The two big men on either side of you were startled, too.

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to come out like that. I really appreciate this, I’ll pay to make up for that. It’s just…*sigh* never mind. I’m not gonna burden you with that”

Ari’s brow furrows. You’re a little dressed up, maybe for a casual date, but your face doesn’t show the excitement he knows Curtis had for his last one.

He gives you a tight-lipped smile as he spots someone else come up to the bar out of the corner of his eye.

“Hey, no worries. But you should know it’s literally in my job description to listen if you need it. I’ll let you have a second and then I’ll come back, okay?”

You just nodded, looking down into the double shot of whiskey over the rocks he had given you. You weren’t normally one for hard liquor straight, but after tonight, you might need something to match the bitter taste in your mouth, and you applauded the bartender for recognizing it.

You skeptically took a sip out of the glass, expecting it to burn, but it was surprisingly smooth and pleasant. The corner of your lip upturned at his gesture and you looked up to see his longer hair swaying with the breeze as he walked back over to you.

He gave a tentative smile, seeing you had calmed some and you returned it. He reached out his hand over the table.

“I’m Ari, this is my place. Well, mine and my buddy’s at least.”

You shook his large hand and introduced yourself, mind stuck on the feeling of his warm, callused palms. His firm, strong, yet gentle hold.

He leaned over his elbows on the counter.

“So penny for your thoughts?”

You scoffed as your finger danced over the rim of your glass.

“I’m not sure if you want them. They’re mostly about my disdain for men. Are they all so terrible?”

He blew out a breath and pushed back off the counter.

“Well, in what sense? Because as I guy, I want to say no, but as a guy who considers himself pretty reasonable, the answer is probably yes.”

You shrugged and shook your head. “Bad date.”

You talk with Ari about it the rest of the night until he walks you to your car. But the thing is, you keep coming back. Bad date, after bad date, and he’s always there to make you feel better.

Ari is doing everything to make the time to talk to you. He’s making Curtis save your seat, he’s hasty with everyone else who comes up to him. As much as he hates seeing you torn up over guys, he’s desperate for your visits. He tries to deny it, but Curtis isn’t blind. So he finally convinces Ari to ask you out. And oh man does Ari get an earful of “see? Not so easy when you’re on this side of it, buddy.”

Ari builds up his courage, and another Thursday night rolls around, and you’re nowhere to be seen. And then another one, and another one. Before he knows it, it’s been a month. Ari thinks he lost his chance. He’s devastated. He doesn’t want to bounce back with another girl he knows he could easily get. He just wants you.

On a Sunday afternoon, he’s doing inventory in the bar while they’re closed. He hears a knock on the front door and just thinks Curtis locked himself up on the roof again, so he had to climb down the ladder and come in the front. When it swings open, though, there’s no broad guy with a beanie on. It’s you.

EEK!! Do I need to make this into an actual fic? A clueless pining Ari?🫣

Taglist: @hawkeyes-queen @ronearoundblindly @mercurial-chuckles

[f0point5]

The new fic was wonderful, I cant get enough of Em and Max I hope you never stop writing about them! That being said, I'm curious, would you write about one (or all four!) Times Max had to run around a city looking for Emelia?

Okay I’m sorry about how this turned out 🫣 I know in the fic it referenced that Max didn’t know there was a problem and only found out once she left but I am taking some artistic license with this being one of the four times! Don’t hate me 🫠

I did actually start a different one featuring Emilia’s dad so I may finish that one and we will get a funnier/more on brand instance of Emilia running away but…I hope you enjoy this one in the meantime!

✨Set in September 2021✨

They nicknamed her “The Bolter”

Max watches the sunrise in total, deafening silence. He thinks at some point he gets up to feed the cats. He thinks, but he isn’t sure. He’s so tired. His eyes are watering. It’s not tears. He can’t sleep. He wants to. He doesn’t want to. It doesn’t matter if he wants to, he can’t. He can’t sleep knowing you’re not home. He can’t sleep not knowing you’re safe.

He looks at his phone again. He has it on loud and on vibrate but he still checks. Still hopes.

Daniel: Did you hear from her?

Lando: She’s not answering me sorry

Clara Albizzi: You fucked up

That last one makes me feel sick. He did fuck up. He knew the second he’d said it. The way your face just fell and you couldn’t look at him. The way your shoulders hunched over.

You’re the reason she’s not here!

You hadn’t even packed a bag. Hadn’t even taken keys for a car. You’d just picked up the shoes that were lying in the hallway and left.

And he’d let you.

It had taken everything in him to stand still and let you leave, even as the fear set in. Fear that smelled like freshly cut grass and petrol. Fear that felt like crisp night air. Fear that looked like headlights in the dark.

The restraint had only last a few minutes.

You had blocked him, of course. So he’d called your friends. He’d ended up calling half of Monaco including more drivers than he ever spoke to regularly. Everyone denied hearing from you. He’d actually driven to Daniel’s to confirm his story that he wasn’t home. Max wondered more than once if you’d earned more loyalty from his colleagues than he had. Even if one of them was lying to him, at least you were safe.

But he couldn’t take the chance that you really hadn’t ended up at someone’s place. You didn’t have you bag with you, or even comfortable shoes. You couldn’t pay for a cab. It was that thought that had sent him to the Hotel de Paris. It was your favourite hotel in town, you even checked in for staycations sometimes. They would have your information, so you wouldn’t even need a credit card. The receptionist had refused to tell him if you were staying there - illegal, apparently - but something about his appearance must have incurred her sympathy, because she’d said that they hadn’t had any unexpected guests.

That had sent him to Sass Café. A long shot, because you didn’t usually self medicate alone, but he’d tried anyway. Fifty times he thought he’d seen you across the room as he’d weaved his way through the hoards of people. Normally he could spot you anywhere but when all he wanted was to see you he’d seen you everywhere.

By the time he’d got home, some time in the wee hours, Max could feel himself starting to shut down. As he’d called your name to no response and checked your room to find it empty, he could feel himself starting to get cold. He’d sat down on the couch, intending to think about what he was going to do next, but the thoughts had started to get away from him. The memories of the last twelve hours began to fold in on themselves, becoming smaller and squarer and so too did the feelings. The anger, the frustration, the panic, the disappointment, it all got more manageable, packing itself away in the corner in his mind that Max had so often found himself hiding in.

Even the fear had gone. The fear had gone somewhere around 5.30 am, when the darkness started to wane. As he sat on the couch and watched the sky go from black to blue to the colour of the dress you wore to Luka’s christening, his leg stopped shaking, his fists unclenched, and the tightness in his chest disappeared.

Finally, emotions had given way to a familiar and encompassing emptiness. Max just felt numb.

You’re the reason she’s not here!

What had he even been so angry about? He could almost laugh at himself. He hadn’t been angry. He’d been embarrassed. You’d told him you’d found underwear that wasn’t yours in the washing machine and he’d been so fucking embarrassed. And then he’d thought, what did he have to embarrassed about, and he decided in a split second it must be because you were judging him, and who were you to judge him when you were the reason he was fucking random girls in the first place. His relationship had ended because of you.

You’re the reason she’s not here!

Except you weren’t the reason. Not really. It had been Max’s choice and he knew that. Max needed you more than he’d wanted her and he had never once regretted that choice, although wherever you were, you probably thought he did.

He almost wishes he could feel all of it. Whatever it is that’s been forced under the surface because he can’t deal with it. He can’t feel anything. His eyes are sore and unfocused and they sting.

He drags a hand over his face. He should do something. Get flowers, or call the police, or…anything. But he doesn’t. His limbs don’t move. He just sits there…like he’s waiting for someone to pick him up.

You’ve got to come back.

Don’t worry, Max. They always come back. You’ll apologise. You’ll do better next time.

His eyes water again. This time it might be tears.

Somewhere behind him, one of the cats meows. Maybe he didn’t feed them after all.

“Max?”

At the sound of your voice, Max’s head turns so fast his neck hurts. He blinks furiously at the sight of you. For a second he thinks he’s imagining you.

“I brought strudel,” you say, holding up a small folded pastry box.

Max gets up before his he tells himself to. He wants to pull you into his arms, the urge to do it is the only thing he’s felt in hours, but stays still. You’re back, but that doesn’t mean he’s forgiven.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” he says. His voice sounds hoarse.

“Not everywhere, clearly,” you say with a shrug.

“I went to Sass, Daniel’s, I called Lando, Alex, Clara, Zita,” he says, as if trying to prove that he’d tried. “I went to the hotel to see if you were there. I’ve been around the whole city all night, I didn’t sleep,”

“Oh.”

You look a little sheepish, almost guilty, as you make your way to the kitchen. Max follows, too far behind for his liking but he’s still too scared to get closer.

He sits on one side of the island and you stand on the other. He really takes in your appearance now. Hair up, no make up. Wearing a pyjama shirt. Where the fuck did you get pyjamas? He doesn’t care. His eyes run over you one more time. He might never let you out of his sight again.

“Don’t scare me like that,” Max admonishes, though there is no strength behind his words.

“Don’t piss me off like that,” you retort, and there’s strength behind yours.

The look you give him cuts like second place, and he looks away. He looks out to the balcony. The sky is cobalt now. What time is it?

“Did you mean it?” You whisper into the silence.

Max looks at you now. “No.”

“But-“

“No.” This time it’s an oath.

You shake your head as you open the pastry box. “Max, you obviously kind of meant it,” you say, turning to pick up two plates from the counter. “And I don’t blame you. I know I’m the reason you and-“

“You’re not the reason,” Max insists. “She’s the reason. She thought…she made that choice. And yeah, a part of me is still angry about it, and I cannot talk to her so I took it out on you. That wasn’t right and I’m sorry. I don’t know why I even- I’m sorry. It was my fault,”

Take responsibility. It’s your fault. You caused this to happen. If you don’t like the outcome then stop making people angry.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, quieter this time. Even to his own ear it sounds a little more desperate.

You stare at him, eyes narrow, like you’re trying to read him, and Max almost flinches under the scrutiny. Finally, your face softens, and you sigh. Something in your posture eases.

“Max, it’s okay,” you say gently. “People fight. I just felt like shit and you know how I get. You’re fight, I’m flight, remember? I was…anyway, it doesn’t matter. We’re okay, right?”

“Yeah,” Max says. “Of course.”

You don’t look like you believe him, but he’s telling the truth. If you’re okay, then he’s okay. If you’re there, then he’s okay. If you’re home then that’s where he wants to be.

You shuffle around the island with two plates of strudel, padding on bare feet towards the living room with Max in hot pursuit.

“Where did you go?” He asks, now noticing that not even your shorts are the ones you left in last night.

“The Maybourne,” you explain, settling on the corner of the couch, legs outstretched. “The concierge gave me some spa pjs,”

Max takes a seat next to you, further than normal but closer than he’s been to you in what feels like forever.

“I’ll pay you back for the room,” he says with a rueful smile.

“Yeah, I think you will,” you say haughtily, and Max forced himself to laugh. There must be something in his expression that tips you off, though, because your face falls. “I’m sorry I left,”

Please don’t ever do that again.

The words are on the tip of his tongue but he swallows them. He doesn’t ask. He can’t. He has no right to ask you that, because no one can ever promise not to leave and he can’t promise to be worth staying for.

“It’s not the first time,” Max says with a chuckle, nudging you with his elbow. “I’m used to it by now,”

You roll your eyes and turn on the tv, flipping through to find the Moto GP race as Max yawns. The buzz he felt at your return is wearing off and the exhaustion is creeping up on him. He doesn’t want to sleep yet, though. Not when you’re still in his periphery. It’s stupid, but some part of him needs to be consciously in your presence for a while.

“Max, you can go to bed, if you want. I know you didn’t sleep,”

“No,” he says, a bit too quickly. He imagines that he blushes when you notice. His cheeks certainly burn. “I’m just….I’m fine here.”

You reach over to pick up a pillow and lay it on your lap. “At least lie down,” you say, patting the pillow like you do to get one of the cats to sit on you. Max hesitates, but only for a moment, because he’d do just about anything you told him right now.

He settles his head on the pillow, eyes fixed on the tv. He used to do this with his mum, he remembers. The first night joke after being with his dad for months, she’d put on a movie and Max would lay his head in her lap while they watched. He doesn’t think he’s ever told you that.

Your hand running through his hair is like a little jolt of energy, somewhere above him he hears you giggle at the shiver that goes through him. You don’t stop, though, finger massaging his scalp. It quiets all of his nerve endings.

“You need a haircut,” you tell him. He knows what you’re doing, but he can’t bring himself to care. As long as it’s you doing it.

“Yeah,” Max agrees. It’s the last thing he says before he finally falls asleep.

[svechnikovvv]

ever since toronto (2)

series masterlist: here

y/n.drysdale

liked by jamie.drysdale and others

y/n.drysdale everyone give an official welcome to thor

view comments

jamie.drysdale i know that side profile…

y/n.drysdale no you don’t

jamie.drysdale are you gaslighting me?

y/n.drysdale it’s only gaslight if you believe it is

jamie.drysdale i’m telling mom

y/n.drysdale you don’t scare me

jamie.drysdale i should

trevorzegras thor is my new favorite drysdale

y/n.drysdale 🤨

trevorzegras you’re right. y/n, you’ll always be my favorite drysdale 🙏

jamie.drysdale your stuff is on our doorstep trevorzegras 😊

masonmctavish23 thor kinda looks like trevor

y/n.drysdale don’t insult my dog like that

masonmctavish23 are you talking about thor or trevor?

y/n.drysdale thor

user1 that side profile looks like a certain hughes…

user2 calling it now, it’s quinn

user3 thor woke up in a new bugatti

liked by y/n.drysdale

user4 thor hughes because we ALL know that that’s quinn

jackhughes my favorite nephew

y/n.drysdale and your ONLY one

lhughes_06 cute dog 😉

y/n.drysdale this is why nobody shares secrets with you 🤦‍♀️

lhughes_06 i’ll hard launch you two rn

jamie.drysdale DO IT AND I’LL PAY YOU

y/n.drysdale jamie, go home

_quinnhughes what’s the dog doing 😧

y/n.drysdale driving, obviously 🙄

_quinnhughes is that sass, drysdale?

y/n.drysdale i don’t know. is it, hughes?

lhughes_06 yes quinn, it’s sass. y/n, stop acting clueless in your own comment section. it’s embarrassing 🙄

y/n.drysdale least favorite hughes award goes to luke!

jackhughes does that mean i’m your favorite now?

y/n.drysdale not quite, jacklynn. that title will always belong to my queen ellen 🤞

elblue6 can’t wait for you to bring thor around one day

y/n.drysdale i might come visit this weekend, so probably then!

user5 y/n, girl, we all know it’s quinn. no need to be secretive anymore

user6 soft launch, question mark

user7 y/n and quinn flirting in her comments 🫣

colecaufield i’m stealing him.

y/n.drysdale you steal my dog, i slash your tires

colecaufield jokes on you, i arrived via razor scooter

anaheimducks welcome to the fam, thor!

liked by y/n.drysdale

y/n.drysdale

liked by _quinnhughes and others

y/n.drysdale quinn hughes, my heart holds a special place for you <3

tagged: _quinnhughes

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_quinnhughes you’re my favorite person. i love you so much 💙💚

y/n.drysdale 💙💚

jamie.drysdale OH MY GOD IT’S QUINN

jamie.drysdale EVERYBODY STAY CALM

y/n.drysdale you’re literally the only person freaking out right now

jamie.drysdale BECAUSE THIS IS SEEIOUS I CANT EVWN TYPYE IN FRWJAINGB OUT

y/n.drysdale now i see why trevor doesn’t let you in the house before the street lights come on

trevorzegras QUINN IS WHO YOU WONT LEAVE ME FOR??? i’m okay with this

y/n.drysdale okay z 😭

jackhughes FINALLY. i can sleep peacefully now

y/n.drysdale you’re no better than my brother 🙄

jamie.drysdale THIS IS A SERIOUS MATTER y/n.drysdale

user2 I WAS RIGHT

user8 QUINN & Y/N >>>

user9 OH MY GOD. DRYSDALE & HUGHES CROSSOVER???

user10 crossover? 😭

user11 who needs the royal couple when you have y/n & quinn

masonmctavish23 they grow up so fast

y/n.drysdale did jamie make you comment this?

masonmctavish23 no comment.

trevorzegras yes he did. he said, “comment this so my sister doesn’t message me about being too dramatic again” y/n.drysdale

jamie.drysdale IM KICKING YOU OUT AND STARVING YOU trevorzegras

anaheimducks our favorite honorary duck and her canuck!

liked by y/n.drysdale

canucks our huggy found his match 💙💚

liked by y/n.drysdale

user12 THE BLUE AND GREEN HEARTS ❤️‍🩹

user13 i love this relationship

elblue6 you two are the cutest ❤️

y/n.drysdale thanks mama hughes 🫶🏻

colecaufield the cat’s out of the bag

y/n.drysdale HOW DID YOU FIND OUT??

colecaufield …LUKE DID IT

lhughes_06 thank you for making my big brother happy

y/n.drysdale you can’t sweet-talk your way out of this, little hughes

lhughes_06 watch me.

y/n.drysdale this is why ethan is my favorite

edwards.73 THANKS MOM y/n.drysdale

user14 HARD LAUNCH, EXCLAMATION POINT

_alexturcotte i’ve been waiting for this one, TURN IT UP

y/n.drysdale you’ve been listening to lizzo again, haven’t you?

_alexturcotte she just gets me

a/n: 🤭

tags: @jackhues @jackhughesily @nowandkei @starsandhughes @jhughesl0v3r @babydollmarauders @marsmcgroarty @oh-my-ladymay @whenmypartysover @hockeybabe87 @lvrzegras @calermakar

[andreafmn]

12 Days of Ficmas ❅ Day 3

Word Count: 4.0K Paring:  Tommy Shelby x Fem!Reader Prompt @12-days-of-ficmas: anonymous donor pays for the kids at your nonprofit to have a perfect Christmas. Wait, this handwriting looks familiar Warnings: mature language

Summary: For a little over half a decade, (Y/N) has run the Angel's Touch Foundation caring for children in need from all over Small Heath. But times are hard and money is tight, and all she wants is to give the children of her foundation the best Christmas. And an anonymous letter might just have all the answers she has been searching for.

A/N: goodness, I love angst a little too much. I think y'all might need to prepare for a christmas filled with just a tad of sad 🫣🫣

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Life in Small Heath had never been easy. Life in England had not been easy in general. At least not for the everyday man, much less for their children. 

(Y/N) had dedicated her life to making sure no child went hungry in her town. With what little money her family had left her, she had started a foundation in their name to do just that. For a little over half a decade, the woman had seen to it that no child went hungry or homeless, especially during the holidays.

It had been hard to keep Angel’s Touch afloat for years. Keeping the foundation running smoothly required more money than was flowing in most of the time, but she somehow always pulled it off. She didn’t care if she went hungry herself for a couple of days or if she lived in the smallest apartment she could afford. All she wanted was to make sure no child went through the hardships that had been bestowed upon them with no fault to them. As hard as it was. She pulled through every year, and she would continue to do so for as long as she could. 

That particular year had been particularly difficult, with their government funding being cut in almost half, a slow influx of donations, and the amounts of intakes growing (Y/N) didn’t know how they had even made it to December without more struggles. 

“I don’t know how we’re gonna give the kids a good Christmas celebration this year, Margaret,” she sighed as she sat on her desk chair. “We’re barely making it as it is, and I don’t even know where we’ll get the necessary funding for next year.” 

“Well, we could always ask…” 

“So help me, Margaret, if you say what I think you’re gonna say, I’ll fire you right now,” (Y/N) warned. “I don’t care that you’re my closest friend and one of the only reasons I’m still standing.” 

“I’m just saying, love. He could help,” Margaret shrugged as she placed a cup of tea before the woman. “But I understand why you don’t want to call him. We could try the church again. Grovel to the Father for some more donations. At least enough to give the kids a Christmas dinner.”

“Yeah,” she responded, ignoring the fact that her friend had tried to bring up the one man she had wanted nothing more than to forget. “I’ll try to call some family friends or try to kiss up to politicians and remind them or their re-elections. Maybe see if my brother has any money to spare. I just need to find someone with big and loose pockets for this month. Then, we can worry about next year.” 

“You’ll find a way,” Margaret said with a comforting smile. “Somehow, you always do.” 

“Just one year,” she begged. “All I want is for one year to go smoothly.” 

“Oh, darling, we didn’t get into this business because it was easy,” the woman reminded her. “We do it so the children don’t suffer under someone else.” 

“Right,” (Y/N) smiled. “For the children.” 

“We’ll make it through, darling. Don’t worry your pretty little face.” 

It was easier said than done, that much (Y/N) knew. She made more phone calls than she had ever done in her lifetime, trying her best to reach everyone and anyone who would listen. As Christmas day approached, she felt her time running short. Money poured in slowly, and it was spent twice as fast. At the rate they were going, it would have surprised her if all they could give the kids was a hot mutton stew. 

But what (Y/N) didn’t know was that a higher power was in play. Something and someone she had no control over. 

A week before Christmas, after receiving another shipment of donations of basic necessities, two of the children she housed ran after her down the halls. “Ms. (Y/N)!” they yelled as they ran. “Ms. (Y/N)!” 

“Woah, Helen, William, slow down,” she chuckled softly. “You know there’s no running in the halls.” 

“We’re sorry, Ms. (Y/N),” Helen smiled angelically. “But there was a postie outside. Left a package for you.” 

“Yeah, he said it was urgent.” 

The boy extended a pristine envelope sealed with the crest of England. “Alright, thank you, kids,” she smiled “Now, go on, darlings. Go get some lunch.”

Once the children were out of sight, (Y/N) hurried to her office. The envelope didn’t say who it was from, but her name was written on it in the most beautiful calligraphy she had ever seen. Inside the room, she put aside the box she was carrying and sat quickly by her desk to see what inside the letter was so urgent. 

“Slow down, woman,” Margaret chuckled as the woman pushed her aside. “What do you have there?” 

“I don’t know,” she said. “Helen and William gave it to me. Said a letter man had dropped it off, and it was urgent.”

“Looks quite official, doesn’t it? Does it say who it's from?”

“No. It only has my name.”

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Margaret smiled. “Open it already.”

“Alright, alright,” she chuckled as she pulled out her letter opener. The wax came off the paper easily and, inside, (Y/N) found two pieces of paper. But it was the one in front that caught her attention. “Oh, fuck.” 

“(Y/N), such foul language,” Margaret laughed. “What is it?” 

“Someone has donated sixty thousand pounds to the foundation,” she choked out. “Do you know what this means, Margaret?” 

“Oh, fuck.” 

“My sentiments exactly,” she laughed. “We are more than set for Christmas, Margaret. And not just the holidays. We’re set for next year!” 

“Happy fucking Christmas,” the woman exclaimed. “Does it say who it’s from? We need to do something to honor whoever it was that decided to answer our prayers.” 

“Uh,” she stammered as she looked for a name. “It doesn’t say.” 

“Anonymous donor? I mean, people do get rather generous during the holidays.” 

“Yeah, I just wish we could thank whoever it was,” (Y/N) said. “But, we have enough planning to do now. Christmas is in a week!” 

“Don’t you worry, darling,” Margaret smiled. “Everything will be perfect.”

As her friend set off to work, making phone calls and ensuring deliveries, (Y/N) looked over the second paper in the envelope. There wasn’t a name there either, but she recognized the lettering far too perfectly. In a handwriting that she wished she had forgotten the words: Happy Christmas to you and the children. 

At that moment, she wanted to break down. It had been years since she had spoken to him, much less heard a word from him. Yet, somehow, when she needed him most, he appeared like a knight in shining armor. In a simple cheque, he had been able to resolve her biggest worry. All it took was the stroke of a pen, and all her problems had disappeared. It was just so easy for him. 

But she couldn’t come undone. Not when there was so much to be done.

In the blink of an eye, seven days had passed, and the Angel’s Touch Foundation was preparing for a feast. Every single one of the kids had received their fair share of toys, clothes, and anything else they might have wanted. It was truly something out of a fairytale. 

Their entire home had been decorated from top to bottom for the holidays. It made the children very excited to see the place filled with Christmas lights and decorations, and many a kid stopped to gawk at the massive tree that had been propped up at the foundation’s lobby. Everything was beautiful and perfect. 

(Y/N)’s mind should have been focused on the kids and their happy faces. She should have been zoned into their reactions when they got to open presents that morning or their surprise when they were told what they’d be having for dinner. That’s what should have been running through her head. 

Yet, since she had received that letter, only one thing lived in her mind. His name and his face swirled around in her brain like it was the only thought that mattered. It consumed her every waking moment and filled her dreams with images of him. She had done so well to avoid him for years, and with just a few words, he was all she could think about. 

After dinner, while the kids all played and laughed a floor below, she found herself inspecting the piece of paper that had started her spiral. Maybe the longer she looked at it, something would happen. Maybe it would make him walk through the doors…

“Darling, you can’t spend the rest of the night locked up in here,” Margaret said as she walked in with two glasses of whiskey. “We’re supposed to be celebrating.” 

“I am,” she smiled softly. “I just… it’s this letter. I haven’t stopped thinking about it.”

“There’s no point to dwell on it, dear. There’s no name.” 

“I know who sent it.”

“What?” Margaret gasped. “So, there was a name?” 

“No,” (Y/N) chuckled dryly. “I recognized the handwriting. Instantly, actually. And I haven’t been able to get it out of my head.” 

“It was him, wasn’t it?” the woman inquired. “It was Thomas.” 

“It was,” she sighed. “I just don't understand how he could have known. I haven’t seen him in years, and then he shows up out of the blue with this letter.” 

“Darling, Small Heath is big but not big enough,” her friend mused. “Why don’t you go see him? It’s been long enough, don’t you think?” 

“And say what, Margaret? That I ran away from our home, and he’s somehow still saving me? I… I can’t go see him.” 

“But you want to,” she said. “And you know where he lives. Everyone does. So, just go to him.” 

“He’ll turn me away.” 

“It’s Christmas,” Margaret smiled. “He won’t turn you away on Christmas. Now, there’s a car waiting for you downstairs. So, go, love. Stop waiting around.” 

(Y/N) didn’t know what had possessed her, but her legs moved faster than her brain could think. And before she knew it, she was in the black car headed toward Arrow House. She could have told the driver to turn back around at any second, proclaimed she had lost her mind, and the best thing she could do was sleep off the madness. But the car kept moving, and the distance became bigger. Then, the grandiose house was looking down on her, beaconing her closer and closer. Once she was out of the car, her decision was made for her. The only way was onward. 

She knocked on the front doors, thinking there couldn’t possibly be anyone up at that hour. One second more, and she would have walked herself back home. Yet, the door opened wide, and an older woman opened the door. “Hello,” she smiled. “May I help you, dear?” 

“Oh, um, perhaps you could,” (Y/N) stammered. “I was looking for Mr. Shelby.” 

“Of course,” the woman said. “Come in. He’s just in his study.” 

“This late into the night?” she questioned as she followed the woman inside. “I thought perhaps he would have already gone to bed.” 

“Mr. Shelby keeps odd hours,” she explained. “But I think you knew that if you yourself are coming at this hour.” 

“Right,” (Y/N) chuckled. “I guess if he had been asleep, I could have used that as an excuse to leave.” 

“He was expecting you earlier in the week, Ms. (Y/L/N). But I guess you were quite busy with Angel’s Touch.” 

The woman’s words stopped her in her tracks. “You know who I am?” she asked. “And you knew I’d be coming?” 

“Of course, I know who you are. It’s my job to know,” she smiled. “Well, we’re here.” She knocked on the door before them and opened it ever so softly. “Mr. Shelby?” 

“Yes, Frances?” 

“Ms. (Y/L/N) has arrived.” Frances beckoned the woman inside, and she did as told. “I’ll leave you to it, then.” 

(Y/N) heard his voice before she saw him, and she felt shivers running down her body. His head snapped toward her the second he heard her name, and the cigarette he had just lit threatened to fall out of his mouth as he stared. 

They stood there in silence for what felt like an eternity, wondering if the image before them was a hallucination like the ones they’d had before. Maybe they were scared. Maune they thought the second one of them moved, the other would disappear.

“(Y/N).” Tommy was the first to speak. But his voice was so low it was almost as though he hadn’t, almost like he had said it as a prayer. “You’re here.”  

“Yes,” she breathed, her heart fluttering against her chest and threatening to jump outside of her body. “I came to thank you for your very generous donation.”

“Ah, so Angel’s Touch is yours,” he said nonchalantly as his demeanor changed to the mask he always wore. “I was simply trying to do a good deed this Christmas. The name of the foundation sounded familiar, but I had no way of knowing you were the one running it.” 

“You don’t have to pretend, Tommy. You already knew it was,” (Y/N) commented as she took a tentative step toward him. “Why now? After all these years, why have you reached out now?” 

“I have no need to pretend,” he announced as he filled a glass with whiskey. “I was truly just doing a good thing.”

“Right,” she conceded. “Well, I’ll simply thank you then. And since you did not leave a return address I had to come personally to give my gratitude. Your donation has changed the lives of many children.”

“Good. That’s what I wanted.”

“Alright then. I guess I’ll see myself out. Since you were only doing a generous thing.” (Y/N) turned, fully determined to walk out the doors and leave him with the same indifference with which he was treating her. But she couldn’t walk away. Not again. “Oh, cut the fucking bullshit, Tommy, and give me a real answer. Why now? I can only assume you’ve always known where I was. So, why did you reach out now?”

Tommy’s eyes found hers, and she swore she could have died at that very moment. She was sure in the infinite blue of his eyes, she could see the love he used to have for her, the love that had died after he had come home from the war. “I reached out because I heard you were in need of donations. Truly,” he explained. “I was going to hand deliver the cheque myself. Even went by the building.”

“I didn’t see you.”

“But I saw you, (Y/N). And I realized there was still so much anger and resentment buried that I decided to send it through the post. Because regardless of how I feel, those children deserve a better life than they were given,” he said defeatedly. His shoulders had fallen and she was starting to see the broken man behind the mask. “Yet, I still wrote that note, and I knew it would bring you around sooner or later.”

“For what, Tommy? Why did you want me to come here?” 

“Because I need a fucking explanation!” the man exclaimed, slamming his hands on his desk. “You fucking disappeared as soon as I came home from the war. In the middle of the night. You took your things, and you fucking left. Like I meant nothing to you. And you have the gall to stay in Small Heath. Hidden, but still there. Why, (Y/N)? ‘Cause it wasn’t just me you left. You left the entire family.”

“You’re joking, right? You truly have no idea why I left?” As she was met with silence, (Y/N) couldn’t help but laugh. She crossed the room as she did, staring out the window because it was easier than looking him in the face. “You were a completely different man when you came home. At first, I told myself it was normal. That the things you had seen in the battlefield would have haunted you ‘til the day you died. But then, there were things that could not be attributed to the war. 

I know you used the opium to help with your Shell Shock, and I tried. I tried to be okay with it because I truly believed you needed it, Tommy. But you’d be worse after. The nightmares still overtook you and your behavior… well, long gone was the man that used to make me laugh,” she sighed, wrapping her arms across her chest. “And, up to that point, I would have put up with it all because I loved you more than I loved myself. But then, you brought women into our bed. Maybe you thought I hadn’t noticed, or you believed I would keep my mouth shut and let you do as you pleased. Maybe I did wrong by you for allowing things to get to that. Still, I had not expected you to ever raise your hand at me, Tommy.”

“(Y/N),” she heard him call. 

“I can understand that you were drunk. Pissed out of your mind with the whiskey and the drugs. But I had told you how my father had treated my mother, and you had promised that you would never stoop that low.” She could feel the tears start to form in the corners of her eyes, threatening to fall down her cheeks in ugly black streaks. “That was the night I decided I would leave because I could not live in a house with a man I was afraid of. I told Polly what my plans were, and she helped me. She gave me enough money to go back to my brother’s, and she promised to keep my secret. I don’t want to think of what would have happened if I had stayed.”

“You know I would have never hurt you, (Y/N).” She could tell his voice was closer but cautious. It was the first time they had spoken, the first time they had gotten answers, and he was not about to lose his chance to understand it all. “I must admit, the man that came back from the war was not the man that left for it. I don’t think such a man even exists. But I would have never hurt you.” 

“How can you be so sure, Tommy? You swore that you would have never raised your hand at me, and you did. How far could a strike be? Or perhaps a push or a shove? That’s how it starts,” she shrugged sadly. “If I had stayed… I couldn’t have stayed. It would have ruined us both. I mean, look how well you’ve done for yourself. This house, your business, I’d say everything worked out well for you.”

“It didn’t,” he sighed, stepping even closer. She could feel his presence behind her, looming over her. She could feel the warmth from his body even as the cold from the winter seeped in through the window. “There’s always been something missing.” 

“I heard you got married,” she said. “Even got a little boy. I’d say that’s more than enough.” 

“My wife is dead. And though, yes, I still have my child, you know what I’ve been missing.” 

“You loved her,” she continued. “If love was what you were missing, you had it.”

“That is not what I meant, and you know it, (Y/N).” 

“You gave your heart to another. That’s what I know.” 

“How could I ever give something that wasn’t there anymore? Something that was taken many years before.” Tommy’s chest was pressed against her back, rising and falling at a dangerous pace. His hands ran up her arms, his touch so soft she thought it was a ghost. But he was there. She could feel his breathing on her neck, feel his heartbeat through his chest. Tommy was there, and she could not deny it. “I’m sorry, (Y/N). The last thing I ever wanted was to lose you.” 

“I didn’t want to go, Tommy. You have to believe that,” she sighed as she leaned into his touch. “I didn’t want to, but I had to.” 

“I know, but you’re here now. You’ve come back to me,” he whispered in her ear. “Please tell me you’ve come back to me.” 

“I can’t go through that again, Tommy. The children at the foundation depend on me, the workers… I cannot go back to the woman I was. I lost myself in you, Thomas Shelby. And if I did that again, I don’t know how I could survive.” 

Tommy kissed her neck unexpectedly, savoring her skin as he had done many years before. He breathed her in and sank into the familiarity of her body. He remembered her softness and her warmth, he remembered every curve of her body and the way it would react. He remembered how it had felt to have her belong to him. 

But (Y/N) also remembered how lost she had been without him at the start. Being with him meant losing a part of herself. It meant she would no longer be (Y/N) (Y/L/N). She would be Tommy Shelby’s girl. And she didn’t know if she could go back to that. Not when she had done so much to be the woman she was. 

Yet, the feeling of his lips on her reminded her of the moments they had been happy. They had been young and in love, and even if they had less, they felt the richest they could have been. His hands reminded her of a time when she had not been afraid of him, when his touch was a welcomed solace and not a dark premonition. It all reminded her of the life they believed they could’ve had. 

“Tommy,” she whispered as his kisses became feverish. “Tommy, wait.” 

“What?” he groaned. “We’ve waited long enough.” 

“If we were to do this, if we were to be in each other’s lives, we need to take things slow,” she said. “I cannot jump into these waters headfirst. I need time.” 

“Time,” he chuckled softly. “Time is something we’ve had so much of.” 

“And I need more of, Tommy. Please.” 

“Alright,” Tommy conceded. And though he wanted to be more annoyed, all he could feel was compassion. “At least stay the night. It’s late, and it’s Christmas. You shouldn’t be out on the road.”

“If this is another ploy to get me into your bed, Mr. Shelby,” she chuckled, turning to look him in the eyes finally. Those icy blue eyes that had always haunted her. 

“It’s not,” he smiled. “I can have an entire room set up for you if that’s what you’d prefer.” 

“It takes trust, doesn’t it? And it’s already a cold night, I wouldn’t want to freeze until morning.”

With a warm smile on his face, one he hadn’t remembered he could muster, he took (Y/N) in his arms. “Happy Christmas, (Y/N),” he said. “I do hope it was a good one.” 

“Well, I certainly haven’t had better in a while,” she chuckled. “But I know it’s the best one Angel’s Touch has seen.” 

“The best one yet.” 

“Right,” (Y/N) said. “I guess all we needed was a true angel’s touch.” 

“I’m no angel, darling. I’m more of a god.” 

“I can see the sense of grandeur hasn’t died down,” she chuckled as she leaned into his touch. They walked through the quiet house in each other’s arms, forgetting the past years, forgetting their absence in each other’s lives. They were simply present at that moment, and that moment only. “But I don’t think there’s anything I could do to thank you for what you’ve done.” 

“Well, there are a few things I have in mind.” 

“Very cheeky, Mr. Shelby,” she grinned. “But that’s not happening any time soon.” 

“A man can only hope,” he laughed. “But I’ll take what I can get. As long as you promise you’ll still be here in the morning.” 

“I promise, Tommy. I’m not going anywhere.” 

Next ->

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[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Oh, looks like ur cars broken down

Don’t worry, dearie. The hot Nextdoorneighbour!Mechanic!Bucky is on his way. 😌😌😌🫣🫣🫣

The fact that I have car problems of my own sometimes makes this even better🤭

Let me write something…

“No, no, no!” You whined, trying to start your car. “Please start.” You begged.

After trying to start your car a few more times you groaned and slouched in the driver’s seat, rubbing your hands over your face. You squeaked and jumped when someone knocked on the window. You looked up to see your hot next door neighbor Bucky Barnes. You opened the car door to see what he wanted.

“Are you ok?” Bucky asks.

“I’m fine. My car won’t start and I have to be at work in 15 minutes.” You say with a sigh.

“I can take a look at it.” He says with a reassuring smile.

“I don’t want to intrude.” You say.

“It’s fine. I’m a mechanic, remember?” He says.

You thought about it for a moment before putting your car keys in his hand and got out of your car.

“I guess I should call my boss and tell her that I won’t make it into work today.” You say, pulling your phone out of your back pocket.

“That’s not necessary. I’ll give you a ride to work.” He says.

With only having 10 minutes to get to work, you accepted his offer.

“Thank you, Bucky! You’re the best!” You say.

“It’s no problem, doll.” He smiles.

You leaned over the center console and kissed his cheek without realizing it. You got out of his car and made your way inside the building with a few minutes to spare. After work, Bucky even picked you up.

“Thank you taking and picking me up from work, Bucky.” You say.

“It’s no problem, doll face.” Bucky says.

“Did you figure out what’s wrong with my car?” You asked.

“You needed a new battery and I also changed your oil and filled up your gas tank for you.” He says.

“You’re a life saver.” You smiled. “Let me pay you.” You say, getting your wallet out of your purse.

“You don’t have to pay me.” He says.

“At least let me pay you in another way.” You say, placing your hands on his chest.

“What do you have in mind, babydoll?” He asks.

You didn’t say anything. You leaned up and kissed his lips. Bucky’s hands found their way to your waist and pulled you against his body.

“Take me, Bucky.” You say seductively against his lip.

Bucky didn’t think twice about it. He picked you up and threw you over his shoulder. He took you inside his house and happily took your payment in the best possible way.

[lightlycareless]

I saw this and it made imagine Y/N recording Naomi with Naoya and her fam 😁

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTLvtBbFA/

It’s so cute!

Hello anon!!

Awww this is so, so cute. lkgashgjksahjkgI I had to write something about it + a lil extra hehe. It’s one of those things that can either be very, very funny… or highly upsetting if we’re being realistic🤣.

warnings: fluff. you have a daughter with Naoya named Naomi. and the mention of your family, you know, hinata, ren, eiichi...... 🫣

Enjoy!

“Come on, we should do our own version of that video we saw the other day—you know which one, the one where the little girl picks her favorite relative?” you’d tell your brother.

“I recall it being the least favorite…”

“You know which one, then!” you grin. “Wouldn’t that be fun?”

But Ren, far from enthusiastic as you hoped him to be, instead appeared to be… skeptical. If not disapproving of your idea.

“I don’t know, Y/N. This sounds like a recipe for disaster.”

“Why? It’s going to be funny; I just know it!”

“Alright, if you say so. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you when someone ends with their feelings hurt.”

But you pay no mind to his warnings, opting to instead arrange a small family reunion (with extra guests, such as Gojo—though he always invites himself over regardless of if he’s considered or not) over at your clan’s estate, the perfect place to perform this seemingly humorous yet innocent game.

“Alright everyone, gather up!” you beamed at the sight of your lovely Naomi running to you as soon as you uttered those words. Already old enough to run, she always took the opportunity to show off her newly acquired skill—one of the many reasons that convinced you even further into making this test.

“Mama, mama!!” Naomi grins, jumping as her chubby little hands reached for yours. “I’m here mama!”

“I know, mochi. Now we just gotta wait for the rest to come over…”

“What is it?” Hinata asks, mouth full of the nearby snacks—you always, endlessly told her to stop doing that. At first for your personal distaste, but now mainly because of Naomi, for she’s at the age where she copies everything she sees and the last thing you needed was her mimicking bad habits!

“Do you need help, Y/N? With Naomi? Or something else?? Let me know and I’ll—” Your father begins to fret; in the usual anxious way he always did whenever it involved his family. Another habit you wished to keep far away from your daughter, though you won’t deny that his enthusiasm to be the best grandfather in the world is very endearing to see. Especially since the paternal one tends to keep to himself.

“No, no, that won’t be necessary. I just called you all to play a game!”

Naomi’s eyes sparkle at the prospect.

“I wanna play mama!!”

“We will, but we still need your papa and uncle for that. Where are they…?”

“Sorry, Y/N, we’re here now.” Naoya breathes, having rushed to you after dealing with a… senseless discussion. You’d later come to know that the reason for such altercation and subsequent tardiness was caused by the innocent mistake made on the order he’d place for Naomi’s cake. (He asked for chocolate, was given strawberry. How could that even happen?!)

And while it was insignificant, easily fixable in the grand scheme of things, to Naoya whose perfectionism only worsened when it involved his family… well, this was nothing but a grave transgression.

Either way, this issue soon became a thing of the past when Ren appeared, silent as he was still disapproving of your plans, but still willing to participate. After all, who would want to pass an opportunity to tease his brother-in-law when he isn’t chosen as Naomi’s favorite?

“I CAME TO THE RESCUE, Y/N-CHAN!!!” It would be Gojo this time around, running towards you and Naomi in a way you’d think there was a fire going on. “YOUR HERO IS HERE!”

But if there’s someone Ren would love to see kicked down a notch or two more than anyone else, it would have to be Satoru. As of lately he’s been urgently needing a reality check, and this just might do the trick. He’ll make it work either way.

“Well, now that everyone’s here… I guess I’ll start explaining the rules of the game we’re going to play!” You proceed, having long accepted that the best way to deal with Gojo was… not to. “So essentially, today we’re going to learn who Naomi prefers the most. And naturally, the least.”

“The most?” Hinata repeats, raising an eyebrow. “That’s an obvious answer—”

“—me.” Everyone responded in unison, making it clearer why this game needed to happen.

“What do we need to do?” Naoya asks, and not because he’s eager to know the answer, he’s confident Naomi will choose him before anyone else; but rather because he wishes to see the poor soul she’d choose last. His heart points to Satoru, or even Hinata. He can already envision their distraught faces… ha!

“Just stand in line, one next to the other in front of Naomi. From there, I’ll ask her to run towards you and that’s it! Pretty straightforward, no?” You explain, eventually looking over Naomi. “Heard that, princess?”

“Yes, mama!” Naomi grins. She didn’t really pay much attention to the ulterior motive behind this game, after all, all that she cared about was playing and having a good time!

After your explanation, everyone took their respective positions, with the line up ending the following way: Hinata, Gojo, Ren, Naoya, and your father.

“You’re not playing, Y/N?” Eiichi, your father, asks.

“Nope, I’m going to record it.” You explain. “Besides, I know I’m going to be chosen first, so where’s the fun in that?”

Unsurprisingly, no one disagrees with your statement. Perhaps Satoru a bit; but he always loved to stir the pot.

“You shouldn’t be here.” Hinata would whisper at Gojo, giving him a subtle side-eye he responds with a mocking grimace.

“I could say the same about you, Hina-chan. You’re just going to embarrass yourself, like always.”

She frowns, ready to scold him.

“Stop it you two!” Eiichi murmurs. “There’s no reason to fight. We all know the answer anyways.”

“Do we?” Ren teases.

“Yes. As the one that loves her the most, she’s going to choose me first.” He responds.

“Ha!” Naoya laughs loudly, a reaction that has him apologizing immediately after for he held nothing but respect for your father. “I mean—”

But when it comes to war…

“No, I get it, son. It’s easy to grow arrogant in comfort.”

Your husband smirks. Who would’ve known. “Is that so? We shall see then, father.”

“Now, Naomi—remember: just run to whoever you want to go with, ok?” you whisper at her ear. She giggles, nodding along. “Alright, baby. Go stand in your place.”

And once Naomi was ready, phone prepared to record whatever ensued, you count to three—starting the moment everyone waited for with your daughter’s bubbly laughter as she dashed towards them, completely ignoring their silly attempts of persuasion, solely guided by her heart.

An effortless win is handed to your father who joyfully picks up your daughter in his arms as soon as she’s in range, hugging her tightly as he boasts his victory! While the others lament.

“Huh?!” Hinata gasps, mouth agape as she struggles to accept her outcome. “How—why—?!”

Naoya could ask the same, had all the means to so too, but instead he decides to enjoy the undeniable happiness Naomi’s relationship with her grandfather brought him, how elated he was to see his daughter being unconditionally loved. It was all too obvious, Eiichi spoiled her even more than her own parents and without the responsibilities of one—of course she was going to pick him!

Though what he could not appreciate so earnestly was coming in third in this alleged competition, her uncle being chosen right after her grandfather, who peppered her face with kisses as soon as she bumped into him. As if officially cementing he was her second favorite person in the whole wide world, rubbing it in Naoya’s face with a mischievous smile. So much for someone who didn’t want this to happen!

“Doesn’t feel that nice anymore, huh?” Hinata states with a sly smirk, rubbing salt into the wound.

“Don’t get cocky, I’m next.”

“Told you feelings would get hurt.” At the bickering of your husband and sister, Ren teases you. You playfully smack him, gesturing him to keep quiet.

Naoya would be chosen soon after, and while your husband was happy that he was still above your sister and Gojo, he still couldn’t let go of the sorrow his position brought him.

And yet, he managed it so much better than the so-called loser, a distraught Satoru dramatically threw himself to the ground to cry and complain of the supposed fraud that occurred right before his nose! Denouncing the blatant preference shown by the innocent Naomi, who curiously, and later incredulously, stared at him as he continued to throw his tantrum.

“It’s not fair!! It’s not!!” He cried. “I’m supposed to be the coolest one! The one everyone loves!!!! There’s something wrong about this—about this game!! You bribed her, didn’t you— you bought her vot—”

“Oh, shut up already!” Hinata smacks him. “Get a grip, Satoru!”

There’s a sliver of regret settling in your heart when seeing Satoru, alongside your husband and sister, somewhat affected by Naomi’s decision, but at the same time, regardless of the outcome, you knew your baby girl loved everyone alike.

Obviously there would be preference towards those she sees almost every day, but at the end of the day she’s your bubbly, adorable little mochi that harbored nothing but love for those that loved her as well.

“Did you have fun, sweetie?” you smiled, walking over to her and gently shuffling the top of her head.

“Yes, mama!” she looks up to you, toothy grin as she holds your hand.  “What do I get for winning???”

Naoya laughs at his daughter’s witticisms, her quickness to get the most out of a situation—surely, she got this from her father.

“I have a cake in the way, mochi. Would’ve been here already if they didn’t make a mistake…”

“Chocolate?!”

“Just how you like it, princess.”

“I should have the strawberry one as compensation for this—” Ren smothers Satoru before he could say anything else. “Or—or at least a slice!!”

“No! I want mama to have that cake! So only mama and I have one!” Naomi refutes Satoru, making Naoya smirk and your heart soar at the acknowledgement you’d always come first in her affection.

Unless…

“Hope I’m not too late to the party” It was the last guest of the day, the one you expected the least since he rarely entertained your invitations: Suguru, accompanied by Nanako and Mimiko whom carried two small bags, gifts for the little girl whose eyes widened, cheeks burning red, at the sight of who many would call her first love.

Coincidentally, the only other person that could give you a run for your money when it comes to Naomi’s attention.

“Hi, Geto-kun…” she’d shyly greet him, hiding behind you while doing so. It kind of reminds you of how you were with Naoya back in the day, when you finally acknowledged your feelings for him—undoubtedly, she got this from you.

“Hello, Naomi-chan.” He smiles back, leaning down to her level and unwittingly making her heart pound even faster. “I’m sorry for being late, but I brought some gifts to compensate. Think this will be enough forgive me?”

“Do you want cake? You can have mine!” Naomi smiles, and that’s when you knew it was serious for she rarely enjoyed sharing her things. Did she not reject Satoru just a few seconds ago?

“NAOMI-CHAN THAT IS NOT—!” How Satoru managed to escape your brother’s grasp was something you’ll never discern, not that it mattered much since he was subdued soon after.

Though there was one thing you were certain of, and that was how glad you were for Suguru’s tardiness, because had he been part of that silly game earlier on, Ren’s warning would’ve only become a graver premonition, leading you to deal with all of your family’s sorrow. Perhaps even hurt you as well!

…

Hmmm, no. You don’t think so. For everything that came from your daughter you could only love.

Naomi liking Geto because I mean WHY NOT. It's just a silly crush, one of those things that she'll quickly grow out and then deny it when you bring it up.

I stated before that Naoya would be upset about it hahaha because you used to like Geto back in the day too. Can't blame anyone tho, he's... ah, so dreamy.

Anyways, I hoped you like this little drabble 🥺I love writing Naomi being such a happy, loved child akghjsakghajksghjakshgjikaghjkajikga 😭😭😭😭😭😭 domestic stuff is my WEAKNESS. Probably even more than the highschool au................................................................................................. thankfully, I have more things to write hehe.

Until then, thank you so much for sending in this ask!! keep them coming 🤭 take care and hope to see you soon!!!

[just-another-author-i-guess]

Hey can I request something with judd birch I don't really have a prompt can you just make something fluffy and cute I need some soft love in my life lol

I literally had a dream about this last night, so here you go lol sorry it’s not like super soft, it’s just school hc’s

Tags: gn! Reader, kinda?, leaning towards fem, mentions of s e x 🫣, and alcohol, Judd’s driving, school should be an actual warning tbh

Summary: the one day a month when Judd show’s up to school.

Author’s note: I skipped my math class to write this,, 🤷🏻‍♀️ yk you gotta think like your characters when you write about them lmfao

Surviving a day in school with Judd

Word count; 1,1K

so, let’s say your boyfriend has one of those rare days where he decides to actually show up to school

He’s so, so tired in the morning

I’m talking slow blinking, yawning and constantly leaning his forehead on stuff to try and catch a quick nap in class or while standing up

He’s also constantly complaining, acts like it’s your fault he has to be there

He will be following you around the entire time too

No one will talk to you willingly the whole day because Judd is just always standing broodingly behind you

You’re getting something from your locker? Judd is standing there, scowling and leaning against the lockers besides yours so no one except you can get to their stuff

You’re talking to your friends? Judd will still just stand there a bit behind you, glaring at your friends or using his whole body weight to lean on you

Even if you’re talking to his friends, he’s not that talkative, he prefers just to let you lead the conversation

He does actually have those, friends I mean, like people he can hang out with if you’re not available, or people who host parties

You’re definitely getting initiated into his friend group as soon as you start dating, they’re all kinda like him anyways so you’d fit right in lol

But omg he’s so clingy at school

He just misses you between classes, yk? ),:

After the first classes, he’ll be more awake

You can’t tell if that’s good or bad tbh

It’s not like he actively goes out of his way to disturb classes or anything, but he’s definitely not an ideal student either

Like, he’s not one of those annoying kids who purposely talk really loudly or throw stuff or whatever

but he will sit with his feet up on his desk if he feels like it, doesn’t respond when he gets called on, will call the teacher a colourful variety of curse words and ends up getting kicked out and send to the office

Maybe just don’t call on him and he won’t insult you? 🤷🏻‍♀️

(He’s also literally the worst partner for assignments ever)

That’s in his own classes at least,, let’s say you share a PE class with him and it will very quickly turn into “hey let’s skip and go fuck in the bathroom”

The days were Judd shows up to school is definitely the days you get in trouble/ and/ or detention

Okay but that’s another thing, the other half of the day he will just show up outside of your classes

Either because he got kicked out of his or he has a break or something, he’ll just stand outside and wait for you to come out so he can drag you somewhere and yk,, get all the horny out of his system

Maury also straight up refuses to deal with Judd’s school, as soon as he enters he’s doing his best to convince Judd to find you and have sex or something instead

Omg,, the many, many, poor people you’ve traumatised in the school bathroom or parking lot

(He will also fuck you in his car in front of the school lmfao)

You usually eat lunch with Leah or your respective group of friends, but when Judd’s there you’ll eat with him

(You probably have to pay for his lunch🧍🏻)

Sometimes, though, he’ll drive you two out to get McDonald’s or something

Leah will sit with you at lunch too, so she can bully Judd for showing up or rant to him about something or whatever

Also if anyone’s bothering her, Judd is the best way for her to get out of talking to them

After lunch, you have a class with Leah so he’s once again left to his own devices

He reluctantly goes to his own class because he doesn’t have anything else to do lol

Unless it’s a teacher that’s really really nice, he gets kicked out again

The man literally spends the entire school day just roaming around because he keeps getting send to the office lmfao

He would probably try to get into the school’s vents as well? He’ll crawl over to where your class is and bother you by throwing paper or something through the vent

You’re just sitting in class, and suddenly a bunch of small paper scraps falls from the ceiling and lands in your hair

You look up, only to see your boyfriend grinning and gesturing with his head for you to leave the room

Leah sees it too and has to do her best not to burst out laughing 🫣

Surprisingly, he shows up to after school detention

Definitely not because you dragged him there and told him it was his fault for getting you roped into it as well—

You two sit in the back, and you try to do your homework while Judd naps

Sometimes you’ll share headphones or Judd will steal some of your notebook paper and draw on it

Judd is super distracting literally by just existing, he’s the loudest quiet person ever if that makes sense

When you’re finally out of school, Judd is by default expecting yet another rendezvous in the back of his van

It’s actually kinda fascinating how much the guy can go in just one day—

But anyways, he’ll drive you home or to his house or wherever you wanna go

Sometimes you come with him to pick up Nick from school

Okay so here’s one of Judd’s secrets

He can actually drive like a normal person 😮

I mean, sure he’s always a bit above the speed limit and a bit too close to hitting ppl walking close to the road, but he almost only drives like a race car driver when Nick’s in the car

Because he knows Nick hates it lol

You would have gotten used to it by now, because you know he isn’t actually gonna hit someone

But Nick doesn’t know that

Driving really, really fast is probably also a way for Judd to destress or wind down after a long, and boring, school day

He’ll pass the fuck out when he gets home from school

Well, he’ll knock back half a Jack daniels and raid the fridge and then pass out

You’re more than welcome to anything in the birches fridge yourself, so if you’re feeling particularly nice pls make him something sustainable

His idea of a proper meal is literally a bag of chips— I’m so stressed

Anyways, congrats. You made it through a whole school day with Judd lol

Don’t expect him to show up again tomorrow, though 🤷🏻‍♀️

I love doing Judd headcannons 🤭🤭

Tags: @dlfvrr , @bxbyyyjocelyn

[obsessive-clown]

Hi, I am the one who asked for the Hikikimori hcs. Thanks for answering that one. Your content is so nice. Um, Can I please get a part 2 hcs wherein How Yandere Nanami will ingrain himself into his darlings life as soon as they let him inside their life / sacred space aka their apartment

Of course, my dear! I would be more than glad to continue it for you. 🫣

╰ ♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡╯

Hikikimori HCs pt. 2 — (sfw)

♡ Kento is patient — He’s a patient man overall, so he knows he needs to keep his patience with you. It took a lot of patience and time just to get where he was now. And he’d make damned sure that he didn’t ruin it for himself… Or you.

♡ Along with his patience, Kento takes it slow. Some yanderes out there are completely out of it — Rushing to get they want and demanding that their darling go along with it. But Kento had some sense of grounding, he knew where a line was drawn and when not to cross it… At least, if it allowed him to still get close to you, still love you and let you know subtly, that you were already his. Even if that meant killing someone — He wasn’t above that. He’d do it in a heartbeat.

♡ Since he takes it slow, he’s subtle. As soon as you gave him the green flag, he went. Showing up as much as you would allow him, with things you liked. It was odd, since you hardly told him things such as your favorite candy or book— or flowers. But he always chalked it up to how you had quite the history online and that he only wanted to know enough about you.

♡ When he sweetens you up and gets you more comfortable, he starts to act more controlling. Either suggesting that you spend less time online and more time with him, or try something new with him — inside your safe space of course. As much as he’d love to be the person to reintroduce you to the outside world, he’d hate if you took that as an opportunity to leave him.

♡ To anyone’s surprise, he pulls a decent manipulation card. Especially when you two become close. He’ll pull the “you don’t spend enough time with me” card, and insist you’re always glued to your devices. He knows it’s how you work for the school — But for the love of god could you pay more attention to him instead of that fucking computer. You spend time with him, you let him in your safe space after all, that is spending time with him. But he insists on more over time.

♡ He traps you in this cycle — Get upset that you won’t pay complete attention to him, try to insist that you’re overworking yourself or just pulling unnecessary screen time, ask you if you’re just trying to avoid him, guilt you into feeling bad and then make you crawl back to him in some way. Kento was a walking green flag of a man, he had such excellent intentions and standards, treating you with nothing but the best care — but even excellent men such as himself have their downsides. And his downside was this. Controlling you and playing you like a card, expertly, just so he wouldn’t lose you.

♡ Kento always had the best intentions. He always had the best intentions for you. And he would always apologize to you for the trouble he caused, due to his own insecurities and controlling behavior. He does anything to make it up to you, anything you tell him… Anything except leave. That’s one thing he’ll never do, not after all the work he put in just for you. He can’t leave you. He loves you too much.

╰ ♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡╯

Anon, I’m so sorry for taking the longest time to finally write up and post your ask. But I do hope you can enjoy it and that it lives up to your expectations. 🫶

[bekolxeram]

No, OMG! I'm so sorry if my ask came off this way. I was genuinely curious if there was any way this could work, hence the question. I used to believe it was Tommy who flew the plane, but once I saw your explanation, I actually subscribed to your view. It does seem more believable. I wish it was Tommy, but I think you're right, it wouldn't make much sense. I was just curious if Tim and the writers were to confirm in the future that it was indeed Tommy who flew that plane, whether it would be at least somewhat believable. That was the purpose of my ask. I didn't mean to disregard your theories. I'm sorry. I LOVE your aviation analyses; I even sent you a coffee from the Kinley cafe 🫣 I hope you don't stop. Whenever I see you posted something, I have this huge smile on my face because I know I'm about to read a banger of a post. It's all so interesting!

Noooo, it’s not you. I actually really appreciate your asks. And thank you for the Kinley Café order, you have no idea how happy it made me.

I don’t get asks often, but since the 8x02 title reveal I’ve gotten a few, all aviation related. I’ve been… honestly, elated. I have the chance to yap about my passion and do deep dives on stuff that never crossed my mind before. Sometimes I get carried away, I’m very much incapable of being normal about planes. Ever since I saw those planes in bts photos, my brain has been bustling with ideas, and at times I click rb/reply before thinking because I get too excited. I would worry later that I might’ve forced my theories on others without being asked about them. But it’s not like they’re harmful rhetorics or antagonistic hot takes, just an info dump about a lot of planes. So people can ignore and I’ll move on.

I especially enjoyed doing research on that C-130 in 2x14, I learned a lot about aerial firefighting in the process. I didn’t pay attention back then, but I noticed the lack of airplanes when Tommy was giving Buck the tour in 7x04, so I went back and found the line from the TV reporter saying it was CAL FIRE.

I suspect that line was shoved in there last minute, because some technical consultants told them firefighting air tankers are never used in an urban environment, the weight of water/fire retardant can flatten cars, houses, it has gotten multiple people killed. I can think of more instances where the emergency seems unrealistic at first, but then there’s a passing line making it kind of possible, just exaggerated. I know we always joke about Tim writing soap opera level surreal emergencies, but I feel like all the other people involved in the making of this show don’t get enough credit, especially those designing the opening big disasters.

I’ve noticed multiple times that shortly after posting stuff about Tommy’s pilot career, a post would pop up in the tag asking people to stop obsessing over timeline. I paid them no mind before, they were probably not personal I thought, a subsection of the fandom does have the habit to use Tommy’s age to call him a predator. But this time, well, my theory was mentioned by name, so they were talking about me.

I can handle bad takes or even attacks from the toxic part of the fandom, I don’t value their opinion at all. Seeing rb after rb from people on our side of the fandom, some of whom I admire, basically telling me to stop being so obsessive over realism, being compared to fans who nitpick certain actors’ accents, tattoos, grooming choices, that one stings harder than I thought.

I know I’m being thin-skinned, I’m making everything about me, I’m fully aware that I’m a disaster. But I find myself hesitating to answer the other aviation related asks in my inbox, one of them particularly asking about the possibility of certain scenario in real life. I’m just not sure my input is welcomed here. I have this fear of unknowingly annoying people with my over-enthusiasm. I feel like that kid who keeps yapping about trains at school that everyone secretly hates again.

I just really, really love aviation. I thoroughly enjoy uniting these 2 things that I love and maybe learn new things from it. I don’t mean to impose. I was very excited this morning when I received asks in my inbox, but now it feels like being slammed back onto the ground, and it’s not a good feeling. I don’t know, maybe it’s time to uncouple these 2 things.

[thetypingpup]

sugar daddy!cheol who makes you cockwarm him in his office and when you move without his permission he punishes you 🫣

you never understood how he could concentrate like this. but here he is, typing away on his computer, all while his cock is buried deep inside you. he works as if nothing is out of the ordinary, as if his cock isn't fully encased in your wet heat, as if he can't feel the way you clench around him as arousal builds within you, as if his baby girl who he adores and desires isn't siting on his lap right now. you wonder if he doesn't notice you're there, if he's just seeing right through you in favor of gazing at his computer screen, though the occasional kiss to your shoulder assures you that he's definitely still paying attention to you.

you on the other hand are two steps from losing your mind. you can feel his heartbeat deep inside you from the subtle pulsations of his dick, and that alone is enough to have you tucking your lip between your teeth to keep back the moans. it doesn't help that his arms are on either side of you, caging you in, and when you lean back you're leaning right against his broad, strong chest. the rich musk of his cologne wreathes around you, only amplifying your desire. you want him so bad it aches, so bad that you're this close to reaching down and rubbing your clit to at least get some sort of relief. but he already told you to be a good girl and sit still, and that's exactly what you plan to do.

a soft gasp almost escapes your lips as he presses his face to the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply and humming at the scent. his voice is low and sensual as he offhandedly remarks, "you smell so good baby. is that the knew one i bought?"

"yes daddy." you nod, and it's taking everything in you to keep still. 

“it’s so perfect for you.” he hums, purposefully running his hand up your leg, fingertips just barely ghosting between your legs, “remind me to get you more.”

fuck even the sound of his voice sends pulsations surging right to your clit, and his fleeting touches are certainly not helping. you can't take it anymore. you can practically feel yourself dripping arousal right onto his length. your heartbeat only quickens as the moments pass, the eroticism of it all making your head spin. you need to move, and you need to move now. it's with this thought that you start grinding down on him, not bouncing yet, just gyrating your hips in an effort to get some of the friction you so desperately crave.

a harsh slap to your inner thigh brings you back, making you halt with a yelp. you straighten up, grabbing onto the desk for balance as your mind reels. you try to focus on the hard wood beneath your fingertips in an effort to distract yourself from just how badly you want him, but to no avail. you already disobeyed him, already broke his concentration, and now he’s gonna make you atone for your mistake.

"couldn't even follow a simple command." he tsks, grabbing your thighs harshly. you don’t even have to face him to know a frown creases his brows. you can't even murmur an apology before you're gasping out a whine, instantly feeling empty as he eases you off his cock.

"since you want my cock so bad, i'll give you what you want, but only if you do something for me." with that he pushes his chair back and grabs your hair, guiding you down between his legs. you kneel for him easily, shuffling back under the desk as he rolls the chair forward. you're caged between his thick thighs, his cock bobbing before you, and if you look closely enough you can see him throbbing with the same intense need you're feeling.

"i have a meeting in two minutes, and you're gonna be a good girl and suck me off the whole time. got it?"

"yes daddy." you pout. it's certainly not the attention you wanted, but he was right in saying you do want his cock really fucking bad. though this is meant to be a punishment, to deny you what you truly crave, a smirk lifts your lips before you wrap them around the head. your mind is already at work, already contemplating how to make him come apart in front of a client. serves him right for not fucking you senseless like you wanted.

[vodika-vibes]

After a very thoroughly singling out my favorite smut prompts, I'd like to request: Either 20. “I’m gonna fuck you so good you forget all about that bastard.” or 5. “I can’t pull out when you wrap your legs around me like that.” (or maybe both? 👀) With a feral Hunter Sorry I couldn't decide 🫣 - I'm just down bad for him. Have a nice day

I'll Take Care of You

Summary: Hunter takes care of you when you fall apart.

Pairing: TBB Hunter x Reader

Word Count: 1492

Warnings: Smut, Reader has an abusive boyfriend, infidelity

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: I don't know if I like this one. I think I might be to critical, but Hunter feels hard to write for me. Almost as hard as Tech. Dos it saw something about me that I have the easiest time writing about Crosshair? And now I actually do have to go, lol. My husband took a nap so I could write this.

You’ve been friends, or at least friendly, with Hunter for ages now. Since he moved with his brothers and younger sister to Pabu, actually. He’s always happy to offer his help around your house, though you’ve never actually asked for his help.

You like to joke that he has a sixth sense that’s directed towards knowing when you need help around your house.

He likes to joke that it’s called “big brother” senses, and that he just knows when the people closest to him need help.

And while Hunter is very attractive, and you kind of hoped for more than just friendship, his comment makes you think that you’re solidly in the kid sibling category in his mind. So you mentally shrug, and turn your attention elsewhere.

Which wouldn’t have been a problem, except when you did find a boyfriend, Hunter would scrunch up his nose whenever he came around you. Quietly, he admitted that you smell like your new boyfriend and it’s not exactly a pleasant odor to be exposed to.

And you felt so bad at the time, that you made sure that you showered whenever Hunter was going to come over, and you also made sure that your boyfriend never came over to your house. Should you have put Hunter over your boyfriend? Probably not, but you did.

It seemed to help, for a time. Hunter smiled a little more, and didn’t scrunch up his nose quite so much when he was around you. And it was going well…for a bit.

Until your boyfriend starts making demands. 

“Spend less time with the clones.”

“Spend more time with me.”

“If you loved me, you would let me move in with you.”

“If you loved me you would give me half of your paycheck.”

“Since you won’t let me live with you, it’s only right that you pay my rent.”

“I can’t believe you spend so much time with other men. Stop being such a whore.”

It’s…a lot. Too much, really.

And it all comes to a head late one afternoon, when Hunter’s helping you repair your broken sink. You’re putting your clean dishes away, and you drop a plate, and it shatters into pieces.

And you stare at the broken plate while Hunter moves to get a broom and tells you to stay put so you don’t get hurt, and you just fall apart. Hunter, being the godsend that he is, manages to pull you somewhere safe, and then he proceeds to ignore the broken plate in favor of comforting you.

And as he holds you and strokes your hair and tells you that it’s just a plate, that it’s not the end of the world-

You spill everything. Every cruel word. Every demand. Every little thing your boyfriend does that makes you feel worthless. And his hands stop moving. His hands rest gently on the top of your head, and your face is pressed against his neck, and you want nothing more than to hide in him, because Hunter has always been you’re safe place to land, but he’s not yours-

And then Hunter’s hands are on your shoulders, and he pushes you back, just enough that he’s able to see your face. You have tears in your eyes, and on your cheeks, and he’s so furious that his lips are pressed into a thin line.

But his touch is so, so gentle when he brushes a tear off your cheek with his thumb.

He scans your face for a moment, “Stars, I’m fucked.” Hunter mumbles, and then his hand slides to the back of your neck and he crashes his lips against yours. 

You’re surprised, but Hunter has always been your first choice, so it takes very little time for you to curl your hands in his shirt, and to kiss him back. 

He releases a noise that can only be called a growl and he walks you backwards until your back bumps into your bedroom door. Hunter uses his lips and teeth and tongue to devastating effect, and it takes an embarrassingly short amount of time before you’re whimpering and whining for him. 

He pulls away from you just long enough to open your bedroom door, and then his lips are on your neck, biting and sucking marks onto your skin, as he walks you backwards to your bed.

You squeak as you fall back on your bed, and you blink up at Hunter as he doesn’t follow you to the bed. Instead he stands over you, his gaze dark with desire, as he pulls his shirt off and throws it to the side. “We should stop,” He rumbles low in his chest.

You reach out for him, “Probably,” You agree.

He climbs over you, and crashes his lips against yours, his hands sliding under your thin shirt, his fingers gently exploring your body, “Wanted to do this for ages,” Hunter mumbles against your lips, “Thought you were happy.”

You tangle one of your hands in his hair, “You were always my first choice.” You admit quietly.

He closes the distance between you, short as it is. The next time he pulls away, it’s only for long enough to peel your shirt off, and toss it somewhere in the room, before attaching his lips to your collar, intent to leave marks everywhere you allow it.

“My perfect beautiful cyare,” He groans against you as he slides down your body, removing your clothes as he does so, “I’m going to fuck you so good, you forget all about that bastard.”

You release a quiet whine, and you lightly tug on his hair to pull him back up so you’re able to kiss him, something that he’s more than happy to go along with, based on how he curls an arm around you, and impatiently kicks how own pants off his legs, leaving them sitting on the edge of the bed rather than fully tossing them out of the way.

He grinds his hard length against you and a quiet moan falls from you, “Hunter, please.” Your voice is soft.

He rains feather light kisses all across your face, “I have you cyare.” Hunter promises, one of his hands sliding down your body to lazily slide between your folds, “You’re so wet, mesh’la.”

You press your face against his neck at his words, feeling a flush of embarrassment, and Hunter lets you for a moment, “Don’t hide from me, cyare.” he coos, “Love it. Love how wet I make you. Wanna spend the rest of my life making you feel amazing-” He murmurs into your ear, and then he lightly pats your hip, “Lift up a little, cyare. Need to remove these,” He lightly snaps the elastic to your underwear against your skin.

You squeak, but do as he asks, allowing him to slide the flimsy material down your legs and toss them to the side. 

The moment you’re both bare, he sits back on his heels and just stares down at your body. Hunter uses his hands to trail over the newly exposed skin, exploring you with his fingers and his eyes, and then he leans in to explore your body with his lips and tongue.

“I wonder,” He murmurs as his lips trail to your nipples, “Can I make you fall apart just like this.” It’s an absent comment, more to himself than you, and then his gaze meets yours, and you note the glimmer of mischief on his face. “I bet I can.”

And then his lips are around your nipple, and he takes his sweet time. Licking, sucking, and gently nips, paired with feather light touches across your thighs, and ghosting touches over where you need him the most-

It doesn’t take long for him to push you over the edge, his hair tight in your fingers and his name a prayer on your lips. 

But it’s not enough. And a sly smile crosses his face when you, breathlessly, tell him so. “Don’t worry, angel. I’m nowhere close to being done with you.”

**********

The following day, there’s a knock on your door. And you, too exhausted from your night with Hunter, don’t even stir. Hunter, however, does.

So he pulls on his pants, and he saunters to the door. And when he opens the door, he leans against the frame and smirks at your now ex. He doesn’t even bother to try and hide the marks you left on his body.

Hunter’s voice is very pleasant, even if it’s a little rough, “I suggest you walk away.” The ex flushes, and opens his mouth to say something, only to get cut off by Hunter, “You made her cry. You made her feel worthless. You’re lucky I haven’t shot you. Leave.”

Hunter watches him stalk away, and then shuts the door. Only to hear your soft voice from the bedroom, “Hunter?”

A slow smirk crosses his face, “I’ll be right back, mesh’la.” He calls to you.