#auto repair shirt

[swimmingruinsdream]

I Can't I Have Plans In The Garage

This cool t-shirt is perfect for any dad who loves spending time in the garage tinkering with cars! Featuring the phrase "I Can't, I Have Plans In The Garage", this shirt is a great gift for Father's Day or any occasion.

[mulloey]

the shop

your car has broken down for the nth time, but yunho’s there to save the day. just your luck you don’t have enough money to pay him.

mechanic!yunho x fem!reader

words: 2.7k

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warnings: dom!yunho, sub!reader, paying with your body trope, you already wanted to fuck him though, probably inaccurate pricing for car repair services cus i can’t drive tbh, unprotected sex, degrading, choking, slapping, creampie etc. not proofread

—

You’re dizzy and delirious, putty in his hands as he holds you firmly in place, right where he wants you.

“Y-Yunho!” You squeal. You writhe in his grip a little but it’s far too strong to resist.

He’s got you bent over the hood of the car—your car—while he pounds into you like a desperate, starving man. His overalls are hanging around his waist, just low enough for him to pull his cock out; his white t-shirt is soaked in sweat and the oil-covered gloves on his hands rub painfully against the skin of your hips.

“F-fuck,” he grunts. Your hips collide painfully with the hood every time he thrusts into you and your ass bounces and reddens each time your bodies collide. “What a fucking cock whore. You do this every time you can’t pay the bill? Huh?”

“N-no,” you sob. “Just you, Yunho. Just… hngh… just you.”

“I don’t believe you,” he snarls. His hand comes down on your ass again, raw and painful over the marks he left earlier and you find yourself looking back on everything that lead you here—lead you to being bent over your broken down car while the hottest man you’ve ever fucking seen is slamming his dick into you like his life depends on it.

You suppose the first part—ending up at the auto shop—was inevitable. The car was fucked when you bought it, honestly, but there weren’t many other options for a broke college student. You lived in another district where rent is cheaper, so needed a car to get to class. Didn’t matter how good it was, it just needed to run.

Trust your luck that that seemed to be the only thing it wouldn’t do.

For a period you managed to get by fixing it yourself; Youtube tutorials and favours from friends were enough to deal with all the minor issues that came up, but as minor issues tend to do, they quickly piled up on top of each other until, the morning your presentation was due, you put the keys in the ignition, started the car and—nothing. It did nothing. You were the unluckiest person in the fucking world.

You’d called your best friend immediately, hoping he’d be able to find and fix the problem, but really, you knew it was past that point now—and if you didn’t before, the shock on Hongjoong’s face when he’d popped the hood was evidence enough.

“Jesus, woman,” he said. “You gotta get this thing to a repair shop.”

“You know I can’t afford that,” you snapped back. Instantly you felt guilty for your tone, he was just trying to help after all, so you tried to soften up a bit. “Joong, can you really not fix it?”

“No, I’m sorry. But I know a guy who owns an auto shop. He’ll probably let me use my friends and family discount on you. I’ll give him a call.”

Relief flooded your chest and you hugged him tightly, thanking him profusely even as he walked away chuckling to make the call. In the meantime you called your professor; you thanked God you were such a good student, never missing class or assignments—you doubt she’d have been so forgiving otherwise. “Come by during office hours tonight and you can present it then,” she’d said, and you thanked her with a smile.

Okay, you thought. You just needed to deal with this, do your presentation and the nightmare would be over.

How wrong you were.

—

The auto shop was, well, pretty much how you pictured it. Cars in various states of completion sat in the spacious garage, walls piled with wheels and various other parts, the uses of which you probably would never have been able to guess. The only thing that took you by surprise was the tall, young looking guy who came up and introduced you as the owner.

“Hey, darling,” he smiled. “I’m Yunho. Let’s get you all fixed up, yeah?”

You blushed at his words, and the deep, sultry voice that spoke them. You imagined that was his intention; the way his eyes flickered up and down suggested the attraction was mutual. Or maybe that was just his personality; maybe the flirtatious tone, the innuendo of his words and his intense, intimidating gaze just came naturally to him.

He walked you over to where he had your car laid out and ready to go. Popping the hood, he surveyed the condition with a serious, focused expression. In the heat of the garage, his face was sweating slightly, and he swallowed thickly as he looked everything over. It made the vein in his neck bulge, tension obvious. When he stood back up again he seemed cool and assured; the opposite of you. You felt… confused. Hot. Tense.

“It’s not a huge problem,” he smiled. “Shouldn’t take more than an hour to fix it.”

You didn’t expect that. “Really?” You lit up, overjoyed and he chuckled.

“Yeah,” he said. “We’ve got a staff room if you wanna wait around. May as well, since I should be done pretty quick.”

“Oh, yeah.” That made sense; there didn't seem to be many cafes or places around here for you to wait in anyway—and even if there were, none of them offered the view that the staff room he led you to had; the large glass window looking directly into the garage. You’d be able to keep an eye on your car as he worked—and on Yunho.

He got to work straight away and though you knew next to nothing about cars, save for the Youtube tutorials on greasing brakes and whatever else, but his skill was obvious. His large hands, covered by thick, dirtied gloves, worked quickly and efficiently.

He clearly knew you were watching him, and he clearly enjoyed it; every now and then he would look up from the car, meeting your eyes and tilting his head with a small, smug smirk. When he stood up to unzip his overalls, revealing a thin white t-shirt clinging to his broad chest, you found yourself inching closer and closer to the window without realising. Only when your face was practically pressed up against the glass did you back away, blushing furiously as you sunk into your seat. What the hell was wrong with you?

You’d never been like this about a man. Not even close. No one had ever made you so needy, so hot, so desperate. You didn’t even know you could be affected by someone in this way, yet here you were; thighs clenched together, breathing heavily and your face so hot you were practically feverish. He’d catch your gaze now and then still, and the expression on his face told you he knew everything that was going on in your head—and your body.

The sight of him putting the hood back down was a mercy and a curse; your car was fixed, you could leave, and you could get away from this man; three things you’d been waiting desperately for all this time.

But…did you even want to leave? It would be the smart thing to do, and the sooner you could get him out of your head, the better. But everything in your body screamed at you not to go, to stay and see what happens—if nothing did, at least you’d know. At least you wouldn’t have to wonder for the rest of your life.

He gestured for you to come out of the staff room, proudly showing you your fixed car. Your attraction to him aside, Yunho’s skill surprised you; the old, battered vehicle almost looked new, and when he started the engine to check it worked it sounded clearer and healthier than ever. “Holy shit,” you muttered.

Yunho laughed. “Yeah, I’m pretty good. How do you wanna pay?”

You sighed. You never liked this part; who did? It was always painful to part ways with the little cash you earned at your god awful waitressing job, but you had to do what you had to do. “Card,” you mumbled.

“Alright,” he smiled. “It’s 250,000won. I’ll get the machine.”

He disappeared into what you guessed was another staff room and you stood awkwardly for a moment. Even with him gone the air was thick, sweaty; tense. He returned with the card machine, holding it out for you to take and you put your card in with shaking hands, pressing down the familiar numbers. Well, there goes the last of your mone—

The machine made a high-pitched, displeased noise that you knew all too well. Declined. You made a noise of shock, shaking your head in disbelief. It can’t have declined. You knew you had enough for this. You had to have enough. What the hell is—

Oh. Fuck. When they towed your car here this morning and you followed in a taxi with Hongjoong. When you insisted on paying the fare to thank him for his help. Fuck. You need to be a worse friend.

You didn’t realise you were crying until you felt hands on yours; he grasped your shaking hands carefully, holding them steadily. His face was blank, but he seemed thoughtful.

“Fuck,” you groaned. “Fuck, what do I– I swear I–”

“Hey, hey.” His voice was calm and soft but a little lower than before. “Relax, doll. We’ll work something out, yeah?”

“Work something out?” You echoed his words, voice shaking.

“Of course,” he smiled. He tilted his head and you saw his eyes raking over you again; but this time it felt less like leering and more like… an inspection. You knew exactly what he was thinking.

“Tell me.” His voice seemed to have dropped an octave, thick with tension. “Are you really out of money?”

You blinked. “What?”

“Are you really out of money?” He repeated it, slower this time as though he was trying to dumb it down for you. “Or did you do this on purpose?”

You shook your head fervently, your body heating up with embarrassment and desperation and shame and, well, pretty much everything honestly. “No, Yunho, I—”

“I think you did.” He was grinning now, eyes piercing as he stared you down. He was still for a moment, seeming to consider something before he grabbed your chin, yanking your head up to meet his eyes. The material of the gloves was rough against your soft skin and the tightness of his grip was even more painful. “I bet you put the wrong numbers in on purpose, huh? Didn’t you?”

“I…” You didn’t know what to say. You knew what he was saying wasn’t true, but fuck, you could already feel wetness pooling at the thought of what he’d do to you if it was. But he seemed to have made his mind up either way, so you decided to play his game—you widened your eyes fearfully, lip shaking as you said “I promise, I didn’t” in the most pathetic voice you could muster.

He knew what you were doing, and he fucking loved it. His smile widened as he leaned in closer to you. From this distance you could see his pupils were blown, eyes flashing with arousal. “I think you’re lying to me,” he whispers. “And you know what’s more, little girl?”

Your breath hitched. “What?”

He tightened his grip, yanking your head upwards again to expose your neck. His other hand wrapped itself around your throat like it belonged there. “I hate liars.”

—

You don’t even know how long he’s been fucking you now; your sense of time has blurred and muddied and it could have been minutes just as much as it could have been hours. All you can feel or think about is the feeling of his dick fucking you open, hitting your cervix over and over; and the strong arms that move and manipulate your body to increase his own pleasure.

He grabs your hair, yanking it back painfully and forcing you to look at him. “That’s it,” he grunts. “You’re gonna look at me while I’m fucking you, yeah?”

“Yes,” you cry. “Yes, Yunho.”

“Good fucking girl.” His other hand wraps around your throat again, choking you just this side of too much. The head rush it gives you only sends you further into delirium, amplifying the other sensations. His deep, strained voice is fire in your ears. “Fucking stupid whore, aren’t you?”

He punctuates it with an extra hard thrust and you cry out again, voice strangled. “Yes, Yunho!” You scream. “Yes!”

“Say it,” he growls. “Tell me you’re a fucking whore.”

“I’m a fucking whore,” you repeat. To hear the words from your own mouth, to taste them on your tongue as he forces you to degrade yourself sends another wave of pleasure through you that pushes you closer to the edge. Yunho makes a pleased sound, rewarding you by loosening his grip on your neck ever so slightly.

“You’re my fucking whore,” he whispers. “Yunho’s whore.”

“Yunho’s whore.” You repeat it without thinking and you feel him throb again inside you at your natural submission. “I’m Yunho’s whore.

“That you fucking are. Bending over for me over 250,000 fucking won. You’re a cheap little slut,” he spits. “But only for me, yeah?”

“Yes!” You feel yourself about to come undone and just as you finally reach breaking point he pulls out, cock hard and leaking; before you can protest he picks you up without a word, flipping you onto your back before shoving his cock back inside. “Wanna see you properly when I come in you,” he grunts. “Wanna see those eyes go fucking dumb for me.”

He lifts your legs and pushes them back towards you. The stretch is painful and uncomfortable but it’s hard to care about any of that when he’s fucking you so deep and hard. The weight of his hands pressing down on the backs of your thighs will surely leave bruises but you don’t mind—you’d probably love it, actually.

Now that you’re facing him you can see all the small details of his face while he fucks you; the beads of sweat pooling on his forehead, the black hair soaked through with it, the narrowed eyes and clenched jaw as his grip on your thighs tightens even further. He’s practically pressing all his weight against you now and it’s a delicious, painful pleasure. You reach out to him desperately—though desperate for what you’re not quite sure—and he grabs your hands, bending down to pin your arms against the car as he takes you in a hot, wet, messy kiss.

“Pretty girl,” he chokes. “So fucking pretty.”

“Yunho.” You feel tears pouring down your cheeks, overwhelmed with sensation, with the feeling of Yunho on every inch of your body. He pulls his mouth away from yours to press sloppy kisses across your jaw and neck, teasing the skin with his teeth. “Think you can come for me?” He murmurs. “Just from being used like this?”

“Yes, Yunho,” you whisper. “I’m gonna—”

“Do it,” he growls. He moves a hand down to press his thumb against your swollen clit, making you buck against him. “Come on my fat fucking cock like a good little girl. Earn your keep, baby.”

The heat in his words and the pressure of his thumb on your clit are enough to send you barrelling over the edge; you come with a noise you didn’t even know you made and he follows quickly, releasing inside of you with a strangled cry.

It’s silent for a moment and time seems to still while you process what’s just happened. You whine when you feel him pull out of you and he chuckles, gently slapping your pussy. “What a good girl,” he muses. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

He sends you on your way with his business card in your pocket and his number in your phone. It takes you two weeks to find the nerve to call him, and that’s only because your car’s been making a weird noise that you can’t figure out. To be honest, it’s probably something Hongjoong or one of your other friends would be able to solve, but it’s too late now; you’ve already pulled up his contact and pressed call.

“Well hello, sweetheart.” Yunho’s voice is as deep as ever, his tone teasing. “Was starting to think I wouldn’t hear from you.”

“Yeah, um.” You clear your throat awkwardly, feeling yourself heat up again. “My car— it’s making a weird noise. Can you take a look at it?”

“Of course,” he says, and you hear the leering smile in his voice. “Why don’t you come down now? It’s a slow day at the shop anyway.”

“Oh, yeah. Sure.”

“Great. Oh, and baby?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t bring your credit card.”

—

requests open! comments and feedback appreciated. love🖤🖤🖤

tags: @pixie0627 @hon3ysun @bbdeongi @hwaromi

[gogogodzilla]

✧ 𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝟠 : 𝑀𝑒𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑖𝑐  ✧

【 𝑇𝑜𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑜𝑤 】

╰› 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑒 𝑠𝑤𝑎𝑛 𝑥 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

╰› 〖 𝑆𝑦𝑛𝑜𝑝𝑠𝑖𝑠 〗: Your car breaks down in the middle of nowhere, allowing you to reunite with Charlie after all these years

╰› 〖 𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 〗: nsfw 18+, slight age gap, light angst, charlie's pov, slight dirty talk, unprotected sex, creampie, fingering

╰›  ✧ 𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑘𝑡𝑜𝑏𝑒𝑟 𝑚.𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ✧ 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑 𝑜𝑛 𝑎𝑜3 ✧ 𝑤𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑝𝑎𝑑 ✧

Rain patters against the roof of Swan Auto Repair, and the smell of motor oil, grease, and the remnants of old coffee fills the air. Charlie sits slumped at his desk in the back office of his shop, his head propped against his arm wrinkling the papers underneath. His faded flannel shirt is worn and rolled up to his elbows, exposing his oil-smudged hands and forearms. A distant ringing pulls him further out of his slumber and he blinks blearily as he attempts to regain his senses. 

He sits up with a groan, his back aching from his uncomfortable position. His steps toward the reception area are uncoordinated and he stumbles a little as he reaches for the phone on the wall. 

He picks up the phone and presses it against his ear. 

“Swan Auto” he answers, his voice thick with sleep. 

“Charlie?” your voice rings out on the other line. 

He straightens at the sound of your voice, and he’s surprised his heart didn’t lurch out of his chest. He can’t remember the last time he heard your voice, but it sounds just like it did the day you left.  

He forces himself out of his thoughts. “Been a while. Everything okay?” 

Your voice quivers as you speak. “I’d be better if my car didn’t break down in the middle of the night. Would you be willing to give an old friend a tow?” 

He likes to think you were more than old friends. The nights you used to spend tangled in his sheets surely meant something to him.

“Where are you?” 

He holds the phone with his shoulder as he searches for his jacket. You rattle off your location, which is mostly just a combination of landmarks. 

“Stay where you are. I’ll be there soon,” he says before hanging up. He grabs his jacket from a nearby coat rack and heads toward his tow truck. He wonders if you’ve changed at all. Forks had been a constant in his life, even after it felt like his world had been turned upside down by your departure. He figured the same could be applied to him. He hadn't changed except for a few more gray hairs and the sense not to get attached.

He sighs as he climbs into his ancient tow truck. It sputters to life, and Charlie begins his drive towards your location.  

He pulls in front of your car on the side of the road and hardly has enough time to throw it in park before he jumps out to meet you. You’re standing near your car, soaked to the bone. 

“Charlie!” you call as you head toward his truck. 

He wraps an arm around your shoulder and ushers you toward the passenger side of his truck. He practically shoves you in the seat before slamming the door behind you. 

He clambers into his truck, grateful to be out of the rain. He turns to look at you, taking in your appearance. The rain had soaked through your clothes, forcing them to cling tightly to your form. He can’t help his gaze from wandering, watching as water trickles down your neck and dips between the valley of your breasts.

“You’re drenched,” he says, forcing himself to look anywhere else but your tits. Your teeth begin to chatter and he reaches over to turn the heat up. 

“Why didn’t you just wait in the car?” he questions, his voice rough but not unkind. 

You shrug, “Felt weird just sitting there.”

His gaze softens as he looks at you, really looks at you, not just your soaking wet clothes. You hadn’t changed a bit. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d dreamed of just being in your presence once more, and now that he was really with you he didn’t know what to do. 

You turn to face him, “Thank you, Charlie. I don’t know where I’d be without you.” 

“Probably getting hypothermia,” he sighs. “Stay here while I hook your car up. We’ll take it back to the shop, and I can take a look at it there.” 

He doesn’t wait for your reply before jumping out of his truck. He works quickly to hook up your car, the rain only slightly inhibiting his progress. By the time he returns to you, he’s drenched and shivering. He’s thankful you’ve cranked the heat, and he takes a moment to defrost. 

“It’s good to see you, even if the circumstances aren’t exactly ideal,” you said, cutting through the awkward silence that fell upon you.  

He cleared his throat and started his truck. He was silent as he pulled out onto the road. Pine trees passed by in a flash as he picked up speed. The sooner he could get you back to his shop, the sooner he could get away from you. That’s what you wanted, right? 

“I told you to get rid of that piece of crap when you had the chance,” he mentioned, nodding his head toward his rearview mirror. 

You grinned, “It got me this far, hasn’t it?” 

“Speaking of, why now? Couldn’t find what you were looking for halfway across the country?” he questioned and it came out harsher than he intended. 

His words lingered between you, leaving a bad taste in his mouth. The silence that filled the cab of his truck was suffocating, and he counted down the seconds until he pulled into his shop. 

The rain had lightened up only slightly as he dropped your car off at his shop. You followed him into the back office as the tension simmered between you. He leans on the edge of his desk, taking in your appearance. You haven’t aged a day; you just look a bit more tired, maybe a little more sad. 

“M’sorry about earlier,” he begins. 

You wave him off, “I deserved it, don’t worry about it.”

“Still,” he shrugs, meeting your gaze, “it wasn’t fair. You had every right to leave this town and chase your dreams.”

You take a step towards him, “I shouldn’t have left the way I did. That wasn’t fair.” 

He resists the urge to pull you in and kiss all the regrets away. You shift on your feet before taking another step closer, situating yourself between his thighs. It almost seems like you’ve read his mind. 

You cup his face and he leans into your touch. A soft noise escapes him as you drag your thumb across his cheek. 

“I missed you,” he murmurs as he looks up at you. 

Your eyes search his for a moment, and the next thing he knows you’re leaning in. Your lips collide, and it's everything he’s dreamt about for the past few years. You kiss him, and it’s like nothing’s changed. It’s like you never left. 

You tangle your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging him impossibly closer. He groans against your mouth and slides his tongue against your bottom lip. His hands wander downward and squeeze your ass, earning a small yelp in response. He uses the opportunity and runs his tongue across the backs of your teeth. 

You pull away, panting, your breath tickling his cheeks. Your eyes meet, and the slight nod of your head is all it takes for the rest of his resolve to crumble underneath your fingertips. 

He grabs you and spins the two of you so you’re pressed against his desk. “Gotta get you outta these wet clothes, baby,” he mentions as his hands wander under the hem of your shirt. 

You hum, pulling him in by his flannel. Your lips meet in a sloppy kiss, and his hands skim across your body, almost as if memorizing the feel of your skin under his fingertips. Although, he doubts he could ever forget the feeling. 

One hand pops the closure of your jeans while the other wraps lightly around your neck, squeezing slightly as you kiss him. 

“You miss me as much as I miss you?” he questions as he dips his hand down your pants. His fingertips brush against your clothed core, and you gasp against him. He hums, “Certainly feels like you missed me.” 

He presses open-mouthed kisses against the side of your neck as he teases you through your underwear. You tucked yourself into the crook of his neck, and your quiet moans quickly turned into desperate pleas. 

The urge to have you desperate and crying for his cock nearly overwhelms him. A small part of him wants you to feel like he felt all those years– release just close enough that you can taste it but too far to fully grasp it. 

A larger, louder part of him wants to bury his cock in you and have you singing his name within the next 30 seconds. That part of him won. 

He pushes you back against the hard expanse of his desk and makes quick work of your jeans and underwear. He tugs them down and off your body, leaving you bare before him. He could’ve come just from the sight of you. You looked up at him as you spread your thighs, baring your glistening cunt for him. Just for him. 

He slides a finger through your folds, and you sink your teeth into your bottom lip, muffling a whine. 

He halts his movements. “Let me hear you, baby. Wanna hear those pretty little noises you make.” 

You give him an obedient nod, and he continues. He swipes a finger through your folds, gathering your slick as he circles your clit. You arch against his touch, moaning a little. 

His free hand moves upward to push up your t-shirt over your breasts. His fingers run over the lacy front of your bra, and when that isn’t enough for him, he pulls down the front of your bra. He circles your nipples, mirroring his ministrations on your clit, and the buds harden under his touch. 

He sinks his finger into your core, pumping it a few times and eliciting a breathy moan from you. He wants to take his time with you, despite the raging desire to ruin you. He wants you to keep crawling back to him because no one can make you feel the way that he does. 

You give him an all too familiar pleading look, and he decides to take mercy on you just this once. He pops the button on his jeans and eagerly pushes down his boxers just enough to let his cock spring free. He pulls out of you and coats his cock with your arousal. He pumps his hand a few times before sliding his cock through your folds. You whine each time his head hits your clit, and it's music to his ears. 

He plunges into you inch by tantalizing inch. Your legs wrap around his hips, pulling him in closer. You felt heavenly against him, squeezing him just right. The plush skin of your thigh sinks under his fingertips as he pushes your thighs near your chest, practically bending you in half. He begins to rock his hips, nearly getting lost in the sensation of you already. 

Your walls flutter and clench around him. You arch your back as he readjusts his angle, hitting the sensitive spot inside you. He reaches down to where the two of you meet and draws lazy figure-eights against your clit, earning a whine in response. 

The familiar heat builds within his abdomen and he wills himself to last a little longer. He needs to feel you cum around his cock, and the thought consumes him as he thrusts harder into you. 

He grabs your face with his free hand and leans down to press a sloppy kiss against your lips. It’s a mixture of tongue and teeth, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. The obscene sounds of your sopping heat and skin slapping against skin fill his back office. It’s nearly enough to make his cheeks flush. 

Your thighs clamp against his sides as you throw your head back and cum with a strangled cry. Your pussy squeezes him like a vice as your release crashes over you, and his thrusts falter. 

He grips your hips and juts into you for a final time as he cums hard, filling you just how you liked. A comfortable silence lingers between you as you both catch your breath. 

He slowly pulls out of you and watches as his release leaks over your folds. He attempts to commit the image to memory, just in case this is the last time you’ll be together like this. 

You grab at his flannel and tug him down for a kiss. It’s much softer than your previous ones. He prays it’s not a kiss goodbye. 

“You in town for long?” he questions as he pulls away. 

You shrug, “For the foreseeable future.”

“You got a place to stay tonight?” 

You shake your head and look up at him with those eyes he could never resist. 

“You can stay at my place, and I’ll take a look at your car in the morning. Deal?” 

You stand and press a chaste kiss to his lips. 

“Deal.”

[ace-turned-confused]

shiftin' gear | part one

joel masterlist | series masterlist

pairing: mechanic!joel x f!reader series outline: a slacker of a boyfriend, no job, and now your car needs serious maintenance. heading to the mechanic’s, you’re just expecting him to rid you of your car troubles and move on — you’re certainly not expecting him to change your life chapter summary: your dad finally takes you to have your car fixed, where you meet joel miller — dangerously handsome and charming beyond words word count: 3,7k warnings: 18+ only, reader is able-bodied and wears a dress, description of a rather useless boyfriend, strained father-daughter relationship, probably highly incorrect information about cars, smutty thoughts a/n: i watched one single fifteen minute video about changing brakes, so if anyone needs a bootleg mechanic you can hmu and i'll be there 🫡 endless hugs & head pats to @frannyzooey for not only all the help on this chapter, but all the kindness & encouragement overall 💜

Your car’s had warning lights on for probably a dangerous amount of time. You’d told your dad numerous times what was going on, not that it mattered all that much to him because the car still gets you from A to B and maybe if you drove a bit more delicately then these things wouldn’t need maintenance so often.

If you turn the music up loud enough it just drowns all that out – both the warnings and your dad’s constant berating. Coming home one night, you try one last time to ask him for help.

“Some jackass cut right across me on the freeway, I made sure he knew exactly what I thought of him though. Lucky I didn’t fly out through the windshield when I slammed on my brakes, considering there's more warnings on my dash than on a fuckin’ storm-season weather report.”

That seemed to do the trick, God, if only you’d done this a month ago. Suddenly he was scouring his search and call history for some mechanic he’d been to for his own car – “Miller’s Auto Repair”, though he doesn’t know who the Miller in question is, saying he dealt with some young boy named Eddie with greasy hair and stains on his shirt to match.

He found some time in his oh-so-busy schedule to go with you. Was he about to lecture you on your attitude? Definitely, but at least your car’s going to be fixed.

-

You park in the street behind your dad and haul yourself out of your car, walking up to meet him. Taking in the place, it looks decent enough – tools scattered around, a young guy working on a car on a lift, plastic chairs and a steel leg table off to one side. Maybe decent is a slight exaggeration, but it’s spacious and airy and doesn’t reek of sweat and toxic masculinity. You’re certainly out of place, the sun blazing down on you in your simple daisy-print dress and you feel slightly overdressed.

An older man comes out of a partitioned-off room, the drywall not quite reaching the rafters and sheet metal above. He’s wearing well-fitted and surprisingly chic black coveralls — a hint of skin peeking from behind the lapel, cuffs buttoned up below his elbows, belt around his hips and there are even pleats in the pant legs. And you thought you were overdressed. You mindlessly smooth out your dress, suddenly feeling like you haven’t made enough of an effort.

It’s not that you were expecting someone unattractive, but the man waltzing towards you is criminally handsome — if only you could find a boy your own age who looked like this. A part of you is actually jealous your dad found this place before you did.

He reaches out to both you and your father with a firm handshake, “Name’s Joel. What can I do for ya?”

“My daughter here’s been having some car troubles.” He gestures to you and you notice Joel gives you a once-over and nods.

Taking the silence as your queue to speak, you start listing everything gone wrong with your car. “First it told me the brake pads need changing, and that was about, what, six weeks ago now?” You glare at your dad, your tongue in your cheek and arms tight across your chest.

“Told you I’ve been busy, you know this.” He matches your look and you turn your attention back to Joel, rolling your eyes and he smirks ever so slightly.

“Aircon needs regassing, and the headlights don’t seem to want to go bright anymore.”

“Well, lights and aircon are quick fixes, can do both right now for you, not expensive. I’ll take a look at the brakes and see if we have sets here that’ll work and let you know about that.”

Your dad excuses himself when his phone starts ringing, leaving you alone with Joel.

“So why’d you bring your dad with? You seem capable enough to me.” He crosses his arms, tilting his head.

“I’d rather not have some macho mechanic clock me from a mile away, and end up getting handled for knowing fuck all about cars. No offence.” Joel smiles at your brash commentary, leaning closer towards you. “Wouldn’t do that to a pretty girl like you. Cute dress, those your favourite?”

You’re not quite sure what he’s talking about, to be honest — a fog came over your mind after ‘pretty girl’ fell from his lips and you stand there in silence, mouth hanging open in a daze.

He leans to the side and points to your chest, snapping you back to reality. “The daisies on your dress? That your favourite flower?”

“Oh! No, uh…” Your voice fades off, unsure of what to do about the heat creeping up your neck and into your ears.

 Joel just smirks at you. “You can bring in that car of yours onto the lift, sweetheart.”

You nod and start walking away, your dad ending his call and he’s already asking questions about the cost of all this work. Getting in your car again, you’re flustered. All this man has done is call you sweetheart and pretty once and it’s all you can think about. You pull your car up to the shop, lining up with the lift as best you can and roll down your window.

Joel leans into the open window with a slanted smile, voice low enough for just you to hear him, “Lined up perfectly there, just go slow and I’ll tell you when to stop,” and God if that doesn’t have your mind racing. You give him a weak smile and manoeuvre your car onto the lift, stopping when he raises his hand. Pulling the bonnet lever and climbing out, you move to stand with your dad again, stepping over discarded rags and dried oil stains.

Joel does what looks to you like a whole lot of fiddling and tapping and knocking of random car parts under the bonnet, and takes the light covers off to change the bulbs; he takes a wheel off and checks the brakes and you watch him the whole time. Skilled and calloused hands moving with ease, your mind wanders off to what else he’s good at with his hands. Crouching down to feel around a toolbox, his coveralls pull tight around his ass and thighs. That heat you felt a few minutes ago only getting worse just from watching him work, embarrassment washing over you – though not enough to look away.

Everything looks like it’s back in place and he lowers the lift, walking towards you and your dad. “Gas and bulbs are done, should be good as new now. Brakes you’re gonna have to come back for, though. Eddie just used the last of the pads and discs you need on that car there, but we can get 'em easily enough, should be here next week.” You nod at him, not sure if it’s easier to look him in the eye or avoid him altogether.

“And you can’t get them any sooner? Or, how long are these current ones gonna be safe for? I’m out of town again next week and–”

“It’s fine, next week is fine.” You put a hand out to cut your dad off and shake your head. You’re really not in the mood for his entitlement, and truthfully you’re looking forward to the chance to come here again without him.

“You gonna manage on your own?” he asks, his tone almost mocking and eyebrows raised.

“I’ll be fine, thanks,” you chirp back, voice curt and monotone.

“You sure?” Of course, he wasn’t going to believe you were capable.

“I’ll get Jake to come with me. It’s fine. Really.”

Right, Jake – your boyfriend. Someone you should’ve been thinking of a long time ago, when instead you were all but undressing Joel with your eyes, imagining the nice things he’d do for you, with you, to you.

You and Jake have been together just over a year now, slept together a handful of times, and all around he’s a decent guy. You met while you both were in training and were given the same placements for industry experience. He’s never done anything inherently bad to you, but lately, you’ve found yourself putting more and more distance between you — subconsciously initially, but now it feels more like a chore to spend time with him.

He’s been sweet and kind to you from the start, but it would be nice to have him make an effort every so often, brag about you, show you off. His grand plan for celebrating your anniversary was taking you out for lunch and calling it a day; if he visits while your dad’s around, the two of them spend more time talking than you do. It’s been about two months since he fucked you, if you could even call it that, and you’re tired of either faking an orgasm or reassuring him it’s fine you never came when you forget to put on the act at all.

You can’t picture someone like Joel giving you such mediocre treatment and being satisfied with that, living life so blissfully unaware.

Joel’s voice snaps you out of your fog and you notice your dad’s already walked out.

“See you then,” and he retreats with a tilt of his head and a wink.

Fuck it’s going to be a long week.

-

Joel already texted your dad three days ago to say you could come in, and you’ve been oddly nervous about it, your mind racing: what’s gonna be the quietest time to go, I wonder if Joel will be too busy with another job, I should make sure I’m not wearing the same dress again. You even made sure you washed your hair the night before in preparation, scolding yourself the whole time – he’s some random guy fixing your car, not to mention you do have a boyfriend.

Eddie’s nowhere to be seen, Joel’s wearing those same coveralls and there’s music playing from a worktop speaker.

“Afternoon, princess,” he holds your door open, eyes following you across the room, just the same as the week before. “Thought you were bringing a friend – what was his name?”

Fingers toying with the hem of your top, you only hope you made the right decision coming here alone. You’re not worried about something that Joel would say or do, no, but worried about something you yourself might. You never were good at hiding your feelings; you pray he can’t see through you.

“Oh, Jake?” You could keep it a secret and enjoy Joel’s attention a while longer but weighing up your options, maybe it’s better to just be honest with him. “He’s my boyfriend. He was uh, busy… today. So, just me.” He doesn’t need to know you never even asked Jake to accompany you to begin with.

“Is it cool if I stay while you work?” you ask timidly. “I can get a ride home though, if you’d prefer.”

“It’s no trouble, here.” He pulls a stool towards you, wiping it off with a smile. Joel gets to work on your car and it’s like a show, just for you. Definitely the right choice to come alone, you smile to yourself.

“So this boyfriend of yours, what’s he like?” he shouts out from the far side of your car and your smile drops.

“Oh, uh… he’s nice.” He is nice, but you can’t be bothered to think of anything worthwhile to say about him.

Joel rounds your car to stop and look at you. “Sounds to me like you don’t want ‘nice’.” His eyes trail up and down your figure and you gawk at his remark. Okay, maybe he actually can see right through you.

“Well, my dad really likes him. Says it’s good to have someone to ground you, or whatever.” Joel simply nods in response and turns his attention back to your car.

You take the opportunity to really take him in this time, with no dad around as a source of shame. Thick curls that you would love to run your hands through, sculpted nose, well-trimmed moustache, grey and patchy scruff for a beard, wide back and broad shoulders and firm chest and—

God, you need to think of something else before you get carried away. Again. You look around the room to refocus on something more appropriate, taking in all the arbitrary decor. Dog-eared posters of old rock bands, exposed bulbs dotted between fluorescent lights, a chain of mini chequered flags strung up along the wall.

You risk another look at Joel and see he’s taken two wheels off already, doing more twisting and turning of car parts you never even knew were there in the first place.

“What’s that?”

He looks to you over his shoulder, coveralls pulling tight again over his arms and back.

“What, this? Called a calliper. Holds the brake pads that squeeze against the disc, stopping the car.” You purse your lips, nodding slowly and Joel huffs out a laugh, facing away again. “Got any siblings that need car part lessons?” He continues, “Or better yet, maybe they can teach you instead.”

“Nope, just me. What about you? Any other Millers gracing the town?” You see him shake his head and he chuckles to himself. 

“Got a brother, Tommy. He’s in construction. I worked with him a while back — much prefer this, though. What’s a girl like you do? Working your dream job?”

‘I’m uh, in between jobs, actually. I’m a chef — was a chef.” You look down to your lap, picking your nails. “I quit. Place was full of sexist dickheads. They suggested I put myself forward for promotion, then gave it to some egotistical asshole with both less experience and qualification. So I told them exactly where they could shove their promotion and never went back.”

You sigh and look up and see Joel’s already watching you, a faint smile on his face almost like he’s proud of you for standing your ground. His eyes are a mix of sympathy and understanding — not something you’re often on the receiving end of.

“I know I kinda fucked myself quitting like that, but I was tired of constantly being treated like shit. And not a fuck was I gonna stick around and take orders from a guy like that.” You crack a smile and Joel matches it.

“You keepin’ yourself busy?”

“Trying to figure out what’s next. Not sure if maybe I should do some more training somewhere, expand my skill set y’know, or just find another job. Not very easy with my dad breathing down my neck.” Joel nods, and his keen attention spurs you on. He’s one of few people who have actually listened to you about all this without giving you his own unwanted opinion or unsolicited advice.

“Only real silver lining is having time to pick up some old hobbies again. And talking to you, I guess.” Joel gives you a skew grin and you smile bashfully, lowering your gaze as you feel your cheeks redden.

“So what do you get up to when you’re not talkin’ to me, then?”

“Bits and pieces here and there. It’s been nice to get back into piano again.”

“Keen musician, are you? Play guitar myself, do a lot of the stuff that’s been playing here.”

The mental image of Joel playing guitar is not good for keeping your mind out of the gutter, and you're soon thinking about what one hand looks like plucking away at the strings, the other in a firm grip around the neck. One hand plucking away at you, the other in a firm grip around your neck. You stop yourself before that runs rampant in your mind, focusing on the song playing in the background.

“Wait, can you play In The Gallery?” You lean forward, eyebrows shooting up to your hairline, a grin spreading across your face in shock and amazement.

“You know this?” Joel points off in no direction, giving you the same bewildered look, and your expression changes from that of awe to insult.

“Of course I do, it’s Dire Straits. Look, I may know jack shit about cars but I do know other things. Do you sing, too?”

He shifts his weight to one leg, cocking his head to the side. “Do you?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” You flash a smile and he faces away again.

Joel’s bolted the front wheels back and is busy removing the rear ones when a phone starts ringing above the music.

“Hands a little full here. Can you answer? It’s just on the bench there.”

Your eyes widen slightly, but you stand and make your way to find it. Sliding to answer, you hold the phone to one ear and press a finger in the other to drown out the noise, slinking off towards Joel’s office.

-

Joel watches as you walk into his office, phone pressed into your ear. He’s been thinking about you since you arrived with your dad last week, and he’s glad to spend some time hearing what you have to say. And, you know, getting to really look at you without your dad around. 

He thought you looked beautiful in that dress last week — thought what you’d look like out in public with him in that same dress, with his jacket over your shoulders as the air grows cold, you writhing underneath him behind closed doors and waking up in his shirt next to him the following morning. He scolded himself when you drove off last week for allowing himself that indulgence, that twisted fantasy about a girl as young as you — but seeing how you are today, maybe he was right all along.

You’ve been staring at him since you parked, and the way you bite your bottom lip and openly ogle at him when you think he doesn’t notice tells him you’re thinking about the same things, too. 

You seemed shy, scared even, when you first stood in front of him, overshadowed by your father and his clear frustration with you. It seems you have no issue with pushing him, but he can see in the way you stand, closed off, and hear the unease in your constant defence that maybe this eats away at you more than you like to admit. He’s spent a mere two hours with you so far, and you shine when you’re free to say whatever you want, be whoever you want.

Your boyfriend Jake, however — he might be a challenge. Your smile faded when he was mentioned, saying your father’s fond of him, that he’s nice. Maybe you haven’t been together all that long, or on the contrary, been together too long, but if ‘nice’ is his most redeeming quality… He took your indifference and curt response as a sign to not push any further for now, but that boy, whoever he is, clearly doesn’t know how to keep a girl like you happy.

He’s considering fabricating some story of something else that needs repairs on your car just so you’d have a reason to come back, even if under false pretence. You probably would believe him given the evident gaps in your knowledge, but the risk of breaking your trust might not be worth it. He should keep his distance.

He focuses on the task at hand again and finds himself paying extra attention to his work. You won’t recognise good handiwork, but he knows you’ll be excited about having a fully functional car again. It’s not much, but seeing that winning smile spread across your face will be enough for him.

-

Much like Joel himself, it seems, his office is pleasantly well-kept, bar a few too many half-empty coffee mugs and stray papers littering the desk. A tatty plaid-print couch against the back wall, a mini fridge tucked next to the desk, a leather jacket hung over his chair. Blinds drawn and with no sign of Joel approaching, you trace your fingers across the collar, wondering what it would feel like hanging over your own shoulders, arms drowning in the too-long sleeves and you drowning in him.

You leave his office to walk back towards him and Joel raises his eyebrows questioningly, wiping his hands off on a rag. “So?”

“Woman named Hazel? She didn’t leave much of a message, she just asked if you could call her back. Said you’d have her number.” You hand the phone to him, his hands cool compared to the heat burning under your skin.

“Ah, guess I should,” he mumbles, a hand coming up to scratch the nape of his neck.

“Hm, so who’s Hazel? Is she pretty?” You wiggle your eyebrows at him, a cheeky grin on your face.

Joel scoffs a laugh. “Nobody you need to worry about, not my type.” You feel an odd sense of assurance at his admission. “Well, everything’s done, you’re good to go. Your dad paid last week already.”

“And what about all the hard work you put into this? Surely I owe you something for that?”

“You spendin’ the afternoon was payment enough.” He smiles at you, eyes softening. “I’ll see ya round, sweetheart. Come by any time, I mean it. And hey, if you ever need a change of scenery, you’re welcome to come answer the phone for me.”

You’re not entirely sure if he’s seriously offering you a job or just passing it off as banter. It would get you out of the house and put a bit of extra cash in your pockets; you’d get to spend days on end around Joel, watch him work, and maybe get a glimpse into who he is beyond the charming mechanic you know so far. 

It would certainly test your resolve being so close to him. You consider all the afternoons that may look like the one you’ve just had — easy work, no Eddie or other customers around, just you and Joel and the tension between you. You suppose you’d have to find something to do to pass the time on days like these… Then again, do you really want to risk having him see you as just the girl who answers the phone?

Maybe you can fake something, an excuse to bring you back here to see him again. The ruse wouldn’t last long, not when Joel takes one look at the car and sees clear as day there’s nothing wrong, but you can pin it all on inexperience. Either way, you won’t be forgetting him any time soon.

comments & reblogs are hugely appreciated, forehead kisses to all 💜

dividers by @saradika-graphics

[moremaybank]

STUCK WITH YOU — j.m

day three reluctant friends to lovers with jj maybank

pairing mechanic!jj maybank x fem!employee!reader

summary working at jj maybank's body shop is no piece of cake when your boss clearly has it out for you. one day, the two of you get trapped in the supply closet, and you come to find out that he doesn't hate you at all. in fact, it's the complete opposite.

warnings 18+, unprotected sex, pussy eating, fingering, creampie, squirting, lamguage, jj calling himself daddy (as he should tbh), jj being an ass in the beginning

obx week ‘23 masterlist ;; jj masterlist

JJ had a reputation as the brooding mechanic who always seemed to be in a foul mood. His garage was known for its exceptional work, but he was equally renowned for his gruff demeanour. And it only seemed to worsen around you.

You, on the other hand, were his polar opposite. Friendly, efficient, and a vital employee in the auto repair shop. You were always bringing baked goods for the staff, buying cakes for their birthdays and giving them gifts when you come back from vacation. The customers loved you as well, always laughing and engaging in conversation. You were all sunshine and rainbows, things that JJ lacked severely.

Then, one hot summer day, fate intervened, locking the two of you in the cluttered supply closet at the back of the garage. The door jammed as it always did, and despite your best efforts, it refused to budge. To make things worse, it was just you two that day, everyone else being blessed with the day off. So here you were, stuck in a confined space with your boss who could barely stand to be around you.

"Great, just great," you muttered, frustration bubbling up inside as you jiggled the doorknob one more time.

"This is all your fault, you know. Everyone knows this damn door jams if you don't keep it open," JJ snapped. "I knew you should've taken the day off like everyone else."

"Tough, JJ. I don't care that I have to work under your glare for eight hours. I need the money."

"But I told you I didn't need the help. Now we're stuck in here for god knows how long, with no cell service or anyone to hear us for miles," he replied. "The universe must love me, 'cause I always dreamed of spending quality time with you in the storage closet."

Your jaw clenched at his sarcasm, but you weren't about to let him get the upper hand. "Trust me, the feeling's mutual."

The tension between you was palpable, and neither of you could deny that there was an undeniable chemistry lurking beneath the surface.

JJ paced back and forth, growing more ticked off by the second. "Why can't things ever go smoothly with you around?"

You crossed your arms, matching his glare. "Oh, please, as if you don't thrive on chaos."

He shot you a scathing look. "I thrive on fixing things, not dealing with your constant attitude."

"Well maybe you wouldn't have to deal with my attitude if you were just freaking nice to me."

JJ remained silent, his eyes darting away from you as he scoffed. He refused to take the bait. His patience had already worn thin, and the warmth was getting to him. So he slumped against the door, staring down at his boot clad feet.

Minutes turned into hours, and the heat was taking its toll on you both. JJ had undone the top half of his coveralls, leaving him in a white wife beater. His skin was clammy, and so was yours as you stood there in your buttoned t-shirt and work pants. You were far past dehydrated, and you tried to fan yourself with one of the folded paper bags you'd found on a shelf.

Suddenly, something shifted. JJ stood up, walking over to where you stood and running a hand through his tousled hair. "You know, I hate being locked in here with you."

"Gee, thanks."

He let out a sigh of exasperation. "Every day, I come into this garage and try to act like you don't make me want to pull my hair out. But being stuck in here, with no way out...it's making it damn near impossible to not act on my feelings."

Your heart skipped a beat, his confession hanging in the air. You weren't sure of where it was going, but you could see the vulnerability coming through.

"So, what? You're gonna stab me in the carotid with a screwdriver and put us both out of our misery?"

Your attempt at a joke to lighten the mood only frustrated JJ further. "Why does everything have to be so difficult with you?"

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about the fact that I want you," he spoke. He took a step closer, invading your space as his eyes met yours in a way that sent shivers down your spine. With a low voice, he continued. "I can't keep pretending, Y/N. I can't keep pretending that I don't want to be more than your boss. That every time I see you I want to rip your clothes off and make you scream my name in front of everyone that works in my damn shop."

You found yourself speechless, the weight of his words sinking in. It was a side of JJ you'd never seen before; vulnerable and raw. You'd always known that he was attractive, but seeing him like this...it was sexy.

"JJ, I..." you started, your voice trembling.

He closed the distance between you, his lips hovering just inches form yours. "I can't keep pretending," he whispered.

Maybe it was the heat or dehydration that made you hazy. Maybe it was all the pent up desire you'd felt for him all along. But in that moment, you made a choice. Your lips met his in a searing kiss that was long overdue.

JJ's arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss. His hands slid down to your ass, groping you as you tugged him closer. Your teeth clashed, tongues stroking against each others as you finally let go of your control.

"You're gonna be sweating for an entirely different reason by the time I'm done with you," he rasped, hands finding each side of your shirt and ripping it down the middle. The buttons popped and flew in several directions, and you let him tug it off and cast it on the ground. His tank top was the next to go, followed by your pants and what was left of his coveralls.

JJ turned you around, your back facing him as he kneeled and yanked your panties down. He spread your ass cheeks wide, stretching your pussy into his view. He licked a stripe from your clit up to your ass, already tasting your arousal. He then dove in, feasting at the pussy he'd been dreaming about for months.

You cried out for him, your hands finding the shelves in front of you and gripping them tightly. "JJ, fuck."

He hummed into you, showing you that he was enjoying it as much as you were. His fingers found your clit and he started to rub circles into it as his tongue fucked your entrance. You were dripping down his chin, as he worked you up more and more. He drew your orgasm from you swiftly, his skilled tongue working wonders on you.

When he stood up, he spun you around once more and roughly pulled your bra down, exposing your tits. "I could cum just by looking at these, princess."

You blushed under his intense gaze, and pulled him in for another kiss. His hands found the backs of your thighs and he urged you to jump. He walked over to the door and pushed your back against it, and used one hand to shove his boxers down.

"I don't have a condom," he said.

"Then fuck me raw." His cock jumped at your words, and you gave him a smirk, knowing he wanted this just as bad as you did. "I've waited long enough for you to make your move. 'M not waiting any longer."

"Your wish is my command, pretty girl."

He slammed into you, his hands steadying on your hips and pulling you down to meet his thrusts. He pushed and pushed and pushed, hitting your g-spot over and over again. He was so forceful that the door shook with each movement. Your hands were clawed in his hair, your head thrown back against the wood as he fucked up.

"That's it. Take it. Take my cock like a good fucking slut," he grunted. "Dick's so good you can't speak, huh? No more attitude for me?"

He was taunting you and you knew it. He was so deep, filling all your senses and making your head fuzzy.

"Tell me you like it when I fuck you like this."

"I l-like it, J. So fucking good like this," you mewled. "Right there, JJ. Don't stop. Please don't stop."

"Knew my girl liked it rough. You want more? Want me to make you cum?"

You nodded furiously, and JJ smirked. He went harder, raising your legs up and above his shoulders as he drove into you. Your skin was raw, stinging with each pound of his hips.

"So fucking tight I'm gonna bust," he said. Your walls clenched at his words. "Yeah? You want my cum in this sweet little pussy?"

"Yes, JJ. Yes. Cum inside me, fuck. I’ll take it all."

"I know you will. Gonna do whatever daddy wants, right?"

You cried out, your nails digging into the back of his neck. Your legs were trembling, and you felt your release cresting deep inside you.

"Cum for me. Right now," he ordered. "Right fucking now."

His words and actions hit you like a brick, and so did your release. You were screaming for him as you came, your eyes rolling back as the pleasure flooded your senses.

"There we go. Finally listening to me, huh?"

He kept going, trying to reach his high and overstimulating you simultaneously.

"So fuckin' tight," he gritted out. "You know how many times I fucked my hand, pretending it was you? Cumming to your staff picture?"

Your core fluttered at the thought of JJ getting off to you in secret. Had he really wanted you this entire time?

"Give it to me, J. I want your cum in me. Wanna be yours. Give me your cum," you begged.

JJ kissed you hard, and after a few more thrusts, his seed was shooting into you. You felt the gooey warmth inside you and you were delighted.

He carried you to the chair in the corner of the room, kneeling before you and sliding two fingers deep inside. They curled against your g-spot again harshly, making your legs feel like jelly. "I want one more, baby. You're gonna give me one more."

"J, no. Gimme a break for a sec, I can barely breathe."

"That's the point, princess."

His fingers fucked you harshly, and his tongue lapped at your swollen bud. He shook his head side to side, slurping at you and moaning into you like a man starved. The vibrations overwhelmed your clit, and combined with the work he was doing on your special spot, you were putty in his hands.

Your hands held his face to you, and your thighs squeezed his head as you ground against his mouth. You bucked them furiously as you chased your next high.

"That's right. Use me. Use my mouth just how you like it," he spoke against your core. His words died in the air before you came, your juices gushing out of you and drenching his chin and chest.

"Oh my god, fuck!"

JJ withdrew his mouth from your cunt and he leaned up so he could kiss you. He continued fingering you, pulling juices from you like you were an overflowing fountain.

"Mm, keep going princess. Keep squirting for me. I want all of it."

"You're so gr-greedy," you panted out.

"Just makin' up for lost time."

JJ TAG LIST (JOIN HERE!): @pankowperfection @oncasette @taintedxkisses @mvybanks @wildflwrdarlin @rafesveryrealgf @dreamingwithrafe @maybankslover @goldenroutledge @penny4yourthoughts @bmo-bri @hemogloban @princessbetsy123-blog @slytherhoes @maybank-archives @whoisdrewstarkey @aliyahsomerhalder @vigilanteshitposting @poppet05 @adoreyouusugar @f4ll-for-you @bbycowboi @rafesdirtyslut @venomwh0re @jjmaybankisbae @enhypens-hoe @loverofdrewstarkey @earth2starkey @angelofcigs @glen-powells @papillonoirsworld @em0-b0ysworld @koalalafications @aerangi @cantstoptheimagines @bloody-mf-bsc @maybanksbabe @sarah5462 @slut4drudy @lvvrgrl @dancinglikeaballerina @somerandos-world @shahanaazsoumah @peachpitlover @sya-skies @julesmendoza890 @emmalandry @blueicequeen19 @madelynie @jeyusosgirl @urbestieboo @payton-dixonreader @l1lactheflower @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @gillybear17

[leporinelou]

billy’s mom waking him up while it’s still dark, whispering even though neil’s working the night shift. it’s a couple days before his tenth birthday and she’s telling him they’re going to have their very own adventure, just like the ones in billy’s books. she grabs an already packed suitcase from under billy’s bed and kisses him on the nose, tells him to get dressed quick. the two of them leave in an old beat up yellow bug that she managed to get for a third of the asking price and keep parked around the corner until now. they stay with friends and jump from place to place so neil can’t track them down. billy gets used to surfing couches and staying in motels.

he spends his tenth birthday in a diner, his mom gets him a big stack of pancakes and a milkshake with extra cherries. gets a candle out her pocket along with her silver lighter. sings happy birthday and pulls a face when the waitress frowns at them, just to make billy laugh. she sips at her coffee while billy tucks in. smiles when he holds some out with a “c’mon mama, share with me.”

billy thinks it’s neat. thinks it’s the best birthday he’s ever had.

they eventually end up with a place in california, a little bungalow near the coast and billy grows up with his mom. billy gets pretty shirts from the thrift store ‘cause his mama lets him do stuff like that. doesn’t call him a queer, doesn’t force a baseball bat into his hands whilst yelling at him for crying, for being a pussy. his mom lets him read and keep a journal and press flowers between the pages of the neverending story, she plays hendrix and dusty springfield and laughs when billy comes home from his friends’ house with his first piercing at thirteen. she doesn’t tear down his posters or yell when she finds him using her eyeliner.

and everything’s perfect. sort of.

they have bad days- billy’s mom has bad days. billy calls them gray days ‘cause that’s how the world looks when she’s like this. all her color gone. no singing-dancing in the kitchen or baking five different kinds of cake because she couldn’t decide which one was best, no last minute trips to the beach or sitting outside at night and telling billy about the stars. instead she’ll stay in bed, won’t go to work. she’ll stare at the wall blankly and look right through billy when he tries to talk to her. she won’t take the pills the doc gave her and billy doesn’t know what to do. never knows what to do. just chews at his lip until it bleeds, bites at his thumb until it’s red raw. he’ll get in the bed with her. lay beside her and just talk like she used to do with him when he had a nightmare. hum a song to her.

billy’s still pissed at the world just slightly less so. still has that anger and anxiousness simmering just below the surface and shows his teeth when cornered. he’s still hardened in a way that a kid shouldn’t be but. it’s different. there’s no neil. the only bloody noses he gets are at school, when he fights with the kids who call him a fag and a fairy, call his mom a basket case. he uses fists when they laugh and ask if she’s all there with a finger pointing at their heads, ask if billy will “catch the crazy.”

those are billy’s bad days. sitting in the principals office, icing his knuckles.

when he’s fifteen, billy manages to bag a job at the local auto repair by turning up every day and telling howie how good he’d be, that he knows cars and it’s all he wants to do and please please please. eyebrows pulled together, eyes puppy dog wide and hands clasped in front of him until howie grumbles, throws an oily rag at billy. says fine but billy’s gotta pay for anything he damages. someone brings in a chevy camaro and billy asks howie to let him help fix it up. does the begging again until howie laughs. says get a hold of yourself, kid, voice fond as he ruffles billy’s hair.

billy’s four months away from turning seventeen when the doorbell goes. he’s eating a sandwich and watching knight rider. he’s wearing the necklace his mom got him for his last birthday and- he answers the door. doesn’t think twice. freezes when he sees neil standing there. he looks different. hair a little shorter and more wrinkles. where billy’s gained weight, gained muscle, neil’s lost it. his eyes are a little sunken and he’s still got his wedding band on. he reeks of booze. billy has to remind himself to speak, just says “yeah?” his voice comes out small and neil smiles at him. smiles and billy feels this weird twist in his stomach ‘cause .. that’s his dad and he hasn’t seen him in years and it twists and twists and-

turns out. not much has changed. billy realises a little too late that neil will always be neil. they run again. have to leave everything behind. billy doesn’t get to say bye to his friends, to howie, to the car. they leave a lot of stuff behind and head in any direction away from neil. they both try to keep the mood light, take turns driving and play the tapes billy grabbed. they end up in indiana- hawkins. they stay at a motel until billy’s mom finds a place for dirt cheap. it has two bedrooms and a dingy bathroom, a living room slash kitchen and one hell of a damp problem. it’s dirt cheap for a reason.

it’s above a shop in town and- it’s fine. their landlord is an asshole but they’re together and they’ve got a roof over their heads. billy’s enrolled at hawkins high and his mom gets a job at the laundromat. he tells her that he doesn’t need to go to school, that he could just work and help pay the bills but his mom won’t have any of it. says that she wishes she had finished school and that billy’s too clever to waste it. that he has potential.

billy knows the reason she dropped out of school was because she had him. he just nods, rests his head on her shoulder.

it’s billy’s first day at school and his mom drives him to make sure he actually goes. he gets out the car and tries to shake the nerves off. straightens up and puts on his act. plasters a fake smile on his face and it’s working, he’s got most of the girls swooning and the boys at least seem curious. billy looks around and his eyes land on a guy leaning up against a bmw. his hair’s coiffed to high heaven and he’s wearing a polo, preppy as fuck but- pretty. it’s one of the first things billy realises about him, all doe eyes and moles dotted just about everywhere. he’s got a smirk on his face. not aimed at billy but the guy beside him.

pretty-boy walks over to him and billy raises an eyebrow, plays it cool. he introduces himself as steve and billy gets the idea that he’s top dog at hawkins high, is immediately proved right when they step into the building. king steve, freckles calls him. billy laughs- catches steve looking at him when he does and feels his face get hot. steve just smiles wider, calls billy california and tells him to sit with them at lunch. billy tries to ignore the way steve’s smile makes him feel like the rug’s been pulled out from under his feet.

he nods and steve grins. tugs at one of billy’s curls.

says “i think you’re gonna like it here, california.”

[gayleatherstories]

Becoming a biker's sub

It all started with car trouble. I was moving myself and my meager belongings to the other side of the country trying to start anew.

I closed all my accounts (didn't have much in them anyway), sold pretty much everything I could sell, donated the rest and started my trek across the map.

Unfortunately for me after a couple days of driving my shitbox of a car suddenly just stopped working. That's how I found myself on the side of a seemingly empty stretch of highway bent over my car's engine. Hoping that through sheer power of will I could get the damn thing to start working again.

After about 30 minutes of this I suddenly hear the rumbling sound of a motorcycle heading my way. To my surprise the biker parked his bike a couple meters in front of my car. Dismounted his vehicle and made his way over to my situation.

The man in question was taller than me, had a bit of a belly and was dressed in head to toe tight shiny black leather. and after taking a quick look at my broken down engine proceeded to propose driving me to his house so I could call road assistance.

I agreed, grabbed my backpack with my most important stuff (like passport, drivers license etc) and propped myself on the backseat of this man's harley. He revved his engine making me grab on to his leather covered waist to steady myself.

After the drive to his place, which had been further away than I had presumed, we dismounted and he led me inside. For some reason I had expected him to change out of his full leather look but he just took of his biker jacket, revealing a short sleeved leather button-up and a pair of toned arms.

After showing me his landline he offered me a beer, which I accepted, and took one for himself and sat himself down at his kitchen table while I called a tow truck to get my car and bring it to the closest auto repair shop.

After my phonecall I joined the biker, who's name turned out to be Mark, at his kitchen table.

We talked for a while during which I told him about how I was leaving everything behind to start anew. At some point I somehow got half a bottle of beer spilled all over me. Mark kindly offered his washer & dryer for my beer soaked clothes, showed me his bathroom where I could shower and told me he'd put out some clothes for me to wear while my stuff was being washed.

The pile of 'clothes' that Mark had laid out for me were interesting to say the least. It consisted of the tightest, shortest leather shorts that for some reason had a zipper running from the back to the front of the garment and a tight leather polo shirt. Since I didn't want to go out there naked I squeezed myself into the shorts and top.

I came out of his bedroom and during my shower Mark had gotten comfortable on his leather couch. His shirt was now hanging open revealing the harness he'd been wearing underneath made out of wide leather straps. One of which disappeared into his leather pants.

While looking at his chosen outfit for me, he padded the couch cushion next to him. Making me suddenly realise that I actually had no idea where I was and that I couldn't go anywhere as long as I was dressed the way I was dressed.

I sat down.

As he kept staring at my leather clad body I noticed he'd started messaging his leather bulge and he asked me if I had ever been with a man before. To which I said that I hadn't since I was straight. He thought for a second and then asked if I knew how I was actually going to repay the kindness he showed me so far. I told him that I didn't have any money. He said that there are other ways to thank a man than to pay him money and slowly unzipped his leather pants revealing a long thick uncut cock. I repeated that I was straight to which Mark replied with an ultimatum. Either I could leave now dressed as I was barefoot or 'play with his dick a little' until my clothes we're dry.

It was getting dark outside and I knew my chances of survival would be low so I slowly slid myself closer and grabbed Mark's dick with two shakey hands. I took comfort in the fact that no one would know I'd jerked off a guy and started moving my hands up and down.

Because I was so preoccupied with contemplating my life choices that had led me up to this point, I didn't notice the camera Mark had hidden in his living room.

After a while Mark noticed I was getting tired so he let me know that the quickest way to make him come was with oral. I said that there's no way I'd put a man's cock in my mouth to which he said that it was totally my choice and he was willing to put on a condom but that I wasn't getting my stuff back until he'd cum.

After a couple of minutes I just wanted this whole ordeal to be over with so I kneeled in-between Marks knees while he grabbed a condom out of a side table. With his cock wrapped in latex I slowly put his dick in my mouth. As I started going up and down I heard Mark call me a good boy which only added to my humiliation. When he started to get close he surprised me by grabbing my head with both hands and fucking my mouth with his latex covered cock. Finally, Mark came and released his hold on my head. I started coughing the second I didn't have a dick ramming down my throat.

Mark told me he was sorry for losing control and offered me a glass of water. I told him to fuck off and that he was fucked up. I decided I had had enough and went to grab my clothes from the dryer. Turns out Mark had taken my clothes and probably hidden them somewhere. When I walked back into the living room to confront him Mark was slowly jerking off while looking at a leather porn he'd put on. Before I could start shouting Mark told me how good I was on camera and nodded to the screen.

There I was on my knees in leather seemingly willingly sucking another leather man's cock.

I asked him what he was planning to do with that footage to which he said that obedience gets rewarded with anonymity. I asked him what that meant and as a response he got up, walked until he was right in front of me and ordered me do put his semihard cock back into his leather pants. Feeling completely hopeless about my situation I did as I was told. When I zipped his trousers back up he told me to follow him.

He took me to his basement which at first glance looked like something from a bdsm porn set. He told me to hold out my wrists which he subsequently cuffed together and attached to a chain that hung from the ceiling. Effectively stretching my arms above my head. Mark told me he was going to make some adjustments to my "uniform" before we'd go to sleep. At this point I was so caught up in my anxiety about the whole thing I didn't even try to fight back.

Turns out the adjustments were a steel chastity cage, a thick leather collar and he switched my leather shorts out for leather chaps. When I asked if could get any underwear Mark laughed and said sure. My relief was short-lived when said underwear turned out to be a shiny bright pink latex thong. After I was deemed properly dressed Mark took me over to a full length mirror. I looked like a leather fetish guy. With a hand on my now exposed ass Mark said it was time for bed and guided me back upstairs.

In his bedroom he told me to get on the bed on my stomach. He chained my collar to the bed and cuffed my arms behind my back. After taking off all his clothes, except the harness, he laid down next to me. I was shaking like a leaf this point wondering if I was about to get fucked. Mark seemingly having read my thoughts told me that if I didn't want to fall asleep with his cock buried inside me, he'd settle for making out but I'd have to make him feel like I wanted to kiss him. I said ok to which Mark draped me over his side one hand on my ass and the other guiding my head towards his face. To my surprise I didn't mind the kissing as much as everything else I had done with this man. I was so focused on kissing Mark, I didn't even notice when one of Mark's fingers was gently rubbing over my asshole. After a while my captor said we should get some sleep and to my surprise I was dead to the world not long after Mark's breathing had evened out.

[whohasthecards]

Hangster AU -- Firefighter Bradley & Best Buy Employee/Aviator Jake

AU where Bradley is a firefighter and Jake is still an aviator. Jake is on a long leave, probably because of the mission, and he takes another job to pass the time. He works at Best Buy.

Bradley comes to Best Buy to buy something, he's still in uniform, so Jake knows where he works at. And they snark at one another, but Jake manages to throw the box of what Bradley needs at him, smirking all the time.

---

"Can we stop debating the merits of 10 different wires and connectors and just give me the box, please," Bradley said exasperated as he held a hand out for the box this Ken doll was holding.

"Sure, here, catch," Jake said shrugging throwing the box lightly at him. "No need to get as red as your fire truck."

Bradley groans, rolls his eyes, and walks away. He was never wearing his fire department shirt in public ever again.

---

Bradley put his keys on in his bronco. And turn it. Engine sputtering.

"Oh come on," Bradley muttered, moustache twitching.

He stepped down again on the brake and clutch, twisting the key. Nada. Bradley groaned and hit his head on the steering wheel wondering who the fuck to call.

He jumped when he heard a knock at the window, seeing Ken doll, looking sympathetic.

He opened the door.

"Need a jump?" Ken-doll asked.

Bradley, sighed, "Yes please."

"Give me a sec to bring my car over."

"Thank you." ---

"Man, you've been having issues with the lights and radio, too? But you just replaced the bulbs, right?"

Bradley deeply sighed and rubbed the space between his eyes, "Yeah."

"That's fucked up, man, good luck, better bring it to the shop for the wiring."

"No comment on the wires on this one?"

"Car wiring is a whole another thing I ain't gonna touch, too much of a headache for me," Ken-doll said, flicking the toothpick in his mouth to the side.

"How do you know so much about wires, anyways? You work with it a lot at Best Buy?" Bradley said going back inside his truck to try to start it.

"Nah, not really, I studied engineering, and my other job. You pick some stuff up along the way."

"You studied engineering and you work at Best Buy!?" Bradley said fingers slipping from the ignition.

"Anything wrong with that?" Ken-doll said, raising a brow.

"No, I mean-- Oh look the car's starting," Bradley said flustered. "Thank you, man, I'm Bradley Bradshaw by the way, incase you need anything, I'm by the fire station." Bradley said holding out his hand.

"It's Jake, and if you need anything from electronic goods to repair, come to Best Buy for a wonderful service," Jake said shaking his hand and winking.

"Should add auto-repair to that slogan."

---

A series of events caused them to meet again. And they hit it off, go one dates and all that.

Jake likes listening to Bradley's stories about his job, and Jake tells him about some crazy customers he had to deal with.

Bradley never asked about Jake's previous job/other job, and Jake,,, forgot.

---

One day, Bradley's station gets a call for a jet having to do an emergency crash landing. And they have to make sure that the area is clear and be prepared for anything that might happen. If the pilot gets stuck or something gets lit on fire.

And they're listening in on the radio with the pilot and pilot's instructor telling him what to do. Calm, steady, smooth, and knowledgeable.

Familiar.

They arrive on scene, get the pilot out, and the instructor comes eventually in a rush.

"Is my pilot, okay?" A familiar voice asked.

"Yeah, we're getting him checked out at the hospital, nothing severe."

He hears the man sigh, "Good."

The man turns the corner, and his eyes flickered to Bradley for a moment, before focusing back on the fire captain.

"I'm Lieutenant Commander Seresin, thank you for helping during this incident."

---

"You work in the Navy!?"

"Yeaahhh--"

"You didn't tell me!?"

"I forgot!"

A pause.

"Also does the team know we're dating?"

"The station? No, why?"

"Wanna mess with them?"

"I'm listening."

[aliastrinity]

Under the Hood

Summary: Somehow you’d landed on the topic of the used car your father had helped you purchase. Your dad wasn’t an expert but knew a reliable car when he saw one and, the second you’d parked it back at the dealership after the test drive, he was already negotiating the price. The only issue with it, if you could call it an issue, was the dead headlight, and you’d brought up how you’d booked an appointment at the nearby auto shop to have it replaced.

Or

Joel's pissed you were gonna waste money at a repair shop

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem. reader

Wordcount: 3.6k

Rating: E

Warnings: smut (semi public sex, unprotected sex, oral f receiving), age gap, rough sex

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/62001985

You stare at yourself in your bedroom mirror, feeling nervous. You shouldn’t be, you have no reason to. You’re just going across the street, to Joel Miller’s place and he's teaching you how to change the headlights on your car. Nothing more. But you’re nervous. So fucking nervous. 

You’d been sitting around the fire in your backyard, your father on your right and Joel on your left. You’d never given Joel much thought, only seeing him in the summers when you came down from Pennsylvania. Your parents had gotten divorced when you were young, too young to understand what was going on, and your mother took you with her to live out your childhood in the northeast instead of catching lightning bugs in the yard or getting lost in the greenbelt along the way to Barton Springs. 

Your father always tried to make the best of the summer by taking you on adventures and trying to give you a true Texas experience. Days were spent outdoors almost exclusively. Hours at the batting cages until your cheeks hurt from laughing at how often your dad missed the ball. Evenings at the state fair, your dad carrying you to the car after you physically couldn’t walk anymore. He’d do the absolute most until you were tuckered out.

Joel would come over after your dad tucked you in for the night and they’d drink in the garage. You never spent much time with him; you were a child, and he was your father’s friend after all, but you liked how happy your dad was when Joel came around, and he made you feel better about leaving your father behind in August.

When you turned 21 and didn’t need to be tucked into bed at night anymore,  your dad would occasionally invite you to join him and Joel in the garage or the backyard for a fire. It was then you started to appreciate Joel for more than his friendship with your father. 

You started to notice just how gorgeous he was. He was tall and muscular. Broad. So fucking broad, and his t-shirts clung to his back in the Texas heat. His skin was golden from working long hours in the sun, and you couldn’t help but wonder how tan he was underneath his shirt. It was a dangerous thought. A thought that often resulted in you desperately trying to catch a glimpse of him whenever you heard the lawnmower start across the street. 

And his voice. God, his voice. He had a twang. A sweet, slow drawl, much different to the men you’d been around up north, all thick and syrupy, trapping you each time he opened his mouth. 

You wanted him. No, you wanted him to want you. And so you started getting a little flirtatious with your comments around the fire, borderline reckless while your oblivious father thought you were just being nice. Joel never acted on it, never returned your banter the way you wanted him to. You blamed his southern upbringing but, while he may have never returned your flirtatious banter, his eyes would darken in a way that made you squirm in your lawn chair. 

The evening had started like it always did. Joel on your left, your father on your right, and the firepit roaring in the middle of your circle. You were on your second beer of the evening. You didn’t even like the stuff but Joel did so when he’d offered to grab you another as he’d made his way to the cooler you immediately accepted. Joel tossed a can to your father who, in his drunken state, fumbled and the can landed in the grass. You caught yours and didn’t miss the smirk that had spread on Joel’s face.

The alcohol had made you bold and your flirtations became a little more brazen but, as usual, Joel had ignored it. It wasn’t until the condensation from your beer can dripped down your arm and you’d caught the cool liquid with your tongue, that you’d noticed Joel staring. No. Gaping at you. He coughed and changed the subject.  

Somehow you’d landed on the topic of the used car your father had helped you purchase. Your dad wasn’t an expert but knew a reliable vehicle when he saw one and, the second you’d parked it back at the dealership after the test drive, he was already negotiating the price. The only issue with it, if you could call it an issue, was the dead headlight, and you’d brought up how you’d booked an appointment at the nearby auto shop to have it replaced. 

Joel scoffed at that and you furrowed your brow. His expression had changed as though he was pissed at both you and your father. Appalled, even, and you weren’t sure if he was more upset about you not asking for help or at your father for not stopping you from booking the appointment. 

Waste of fuckin’ money is what he had said. That’s when he’d offered to show you how to fix it. 

You felt stupid and clueless. And you were. You knew nothing about cars other than that the keys go in the ignition and gas makes them go. You watched Joel swallow as he waited for your answer, distracted by how his throat bobbed and how the can of Lone Star looked too small in his too-large hands. You pressed your thighs together to alleviate the pooling heat between your legs then agreed.

You hadn’t expected him to offer, nor had you expected how quickly you’d agree. You didn’t protest, didn’t tell him it would be fine and you’d just pay a mechanic. You’d said yes, hopeful that there was a hint of something more than the slight discontent in his voice. 

And so you went to the store and stood in the aisle awkwardly looking at all the different bulbs. There were so many, why were there so many? You’d scribbled the seemingly random combination of letters and numbers that identified the bulb you needed on your hand and you scoured the wall until you found it. It would have been easier to keep your appointment and let the mechanic take advantage of your ignorance, then charge you too much money as he called you sweetheart at the register. But easy didn’t mean better. At least now, you’d get to spend time with Joel. Alone. 

—

You smooth the fabric of your skirt again. It wasn’t the most practical option for autobody work but it was hot, too hot - the kind of heat that hung heavy in the air and clung to your skin - and you could see the heat lines coming off the pavement from your bedroom window. So, while not the best attire for getting dirty in Joel’s garage, it was a necessity, though you hoped that Joel would notice the gentle ruffle on the hem and how the fabric brushed over your mid-thighs as you walked. Still, you felt a little silly, embarrassed even, at the thought of showing up at your neighbour's house in a tiny little skirt like you were begging him to fuck you.

Smoothing the skirt once more, you made your way to your car before you could change your mind, bulb in hand, slowly drove across the street and parked it in the garage in the space he’d cleared for you.

Joel was fiddling with something at his workbench in the far corner of the garage, his broad shoulders tensing with each movement. You would have driven right through the wall as if he hadn’t turned around when he had. You slam on the brakes and put your car in park, grinning sheepishly as you step out.

“Do I have to teach you how to drive, too?

There’s a hint of teasing in his question and your cheeks flush, more so when you swear his eyes flick down to the hem of your skirt. He makes his way over to you, large hand outstretched and you place the bulb in his palm, marvelling at how small yours looks next to his. He nods approvingly, pleased that you bought the right one.

“Now let me show you how to save a couple hundred dollars. Pop the hood for me, will you sweetheart?”

It takes a second for the words to register. Sweetheart. That’s not new. That’s just how Joel talks. Southern charm and all that, but you take it personally, liking how it sounds.  

You open the driver-side door and pop the lever, releasing the hood for him, then watch–no, stare–as Joel moves to prop the hood up, a sliver of belly revealing itself as he raises his arms above his head. You imagine what it would be like to press your little fingers into the tanned skin as you rode him.

You push the thought aside, it’s too impure even for a garage, then join Joel in front of your car. He leans over and inspects under the hood before muttering something under his breath, something about how the car is one of those models that makes changing a headlight more complicated. He motions to the various toolboxes on his workbench, requesting that you grab him an 11mm socket wrench. You swear you can feel his eyes bore into you as you step over the mess toward the corner of the garage.

While the garage is a mess of parts and scrap, his workbench is extremely well-organized. Each tool has a designated space and you can imagine how Joel meticulously organized each tool and nail, humming and hawing over which place would be best for each one. You return shortly with what you hope is the right tool.

Joel tsks.

“No, darlin’. That’s a channellock. I need a socket.” 

Something about how he chides you has heat burning across your chest while he goes and retrieves the proper wrench and a small flashlight.

“Come look in here,” he says, motioning you to look under the hood. 

You follow the direction of his finger pointing towards the front right quadrant.

“See? Right there. You wanna loosen that.” 

His broad hand rests over your shoulder, his thick fingers curling over your clavicle. He presses down, gently but firmly, bending you over the open hood, and your eyes practically glaze over.

“There. See?”

“Mhm,” you squeak, feeling the effects of the motion pooling between your thighs. He hands the flashlight over and you try to hold it steady while Joel removes the bolt, finally releasing the headlight. 

Joel takes the new bulb you had brought and skillfully replaces the dead bulb, then readjusts the bolts that had held the headlight in place. His large hands find your hips, digging in just slightly, pulling you back from the car before dropping the hood back into place. He holds you like that, perhaps for too long–too long as your dad’s friend–before letting go.

You turn and face him. His hands are clenched awkwardly at his sides, but his eyes are dark and determined though he won’t look at you directly.

“Thank you for your help, Joel.”

The air around you is thick and heavy with heat and tension and a light sheen of sweat graces Joel’s brow. You want to taste it. Joel doesn’t move but keeps his eyes on the bead of sweat you feel sliding from your clavicle down between your breasts, tongue darting out briefly between his lips.

“Really. I appreciate it. Saved me money and a headache.” 

You step closer to him, making the first deliberate move. Joel still won’t look you in the eye, his own now glued to a small oil stain on the concrete. You stoop to meet his gaze, forcing him to look at you.

“I guess I should probably get going.”

Joel nods and his chest rises quickly as he finally speaks as you step away.

“You’re a fuckin’ tease, you know that?”

You freeze.

“Excuse me?”

Joel grabs your wrist and pulls hard against his heaving chest, knocking the air from your lungs. 

“You heard me. Look at you. Always wearing those little outfits around me, flirting with me around your father for Christ’s sake. Don’t think I haven’t noticed, not for a second.”

He may have never said anything before, but there’s no mistaking the desire in his voice.

“And the way you licked your arm the other night? Goddamn .”

Joel’s grip on your wrist loosens and his hands slide down your sides over the plush swell of your ass, making you squeak. 

“Then you show up here in this short little thing,” he murmurs, twisting the hem of your skirt between his thumb and index finger. “How does this even qualify as clothes?”

“I wanted you to notice,” you whisper, embarrassed by how quickly his words get to you, and there’s a new sticky feeling between your legs that sure as hell isn’t from the Texas heat. 

He grins, flashing his too-perfect teeth at you.

“What’s that, darlin’? I didn’t quite hear you. Tell me what you wanted.” His fingers dig harder into the pillow of your thighs.

“I wanted you to notice–to notice me. I want you .”

Any sense of control Joel had snapped and he’s immediately on you. He slots his lips against yours hungrily, his tongue sweeping along your lower lip as if asking for permission. The juxtaposition of his roughness with his polite request would make you laugh if it weren’t for how harshly his tongue delves into your mouth when you part your lips. Joel’s tongue is persistent and determined in its exploration. It clashes against yours, along the roof of your mouth, behind your teeth. 

He’s pressed you against the hood of your car and his large hands slide up your thighs and along your sides, splaying below your breasts. 

“You wanted me to notice you, huh? I’m noticing now, sweetheart. You have my full attention.”

The words shoot straight to your core and you moan. It's a pathetic, needy sound, but you can’t be bothered to care. Not when your fingers are digging into his shoulders and his lips are trailing down your neck, to deliver a sharp suck to your pulse. You gasp just as sharply, then moan as his wet tongue soothes the sting.

It doesn’t take long before he’s cupping your breasts fully beneath your bralette, palming them roughly. Your back arches when he captures your nipple between his fingers and rolls the pebbled nub between calloused fingers. Joel flashes you that lop-sided grin again at the sound of your cry.

He continues for a moment longer, the evidence of his enjoyment growing steadily in his jeans. Joel isn’t ashamed to show it either, clearly encouraged by your reactions as he firmly presses his erection against your thigh, grinding just a little.

Joel finally releases your nipples and slides his hands down your body, his mouth following as he leaves wet, opened-mouthed kisses along your exposed collarbone. You yelp when he captures your hardened nipple through your tank top between his teeth.

Joel is much more experienced than the men you’d been with before and it doesn’t take much for him to coax out each moan and whimper from you when he bites down just hard enough to distract you as his fingers hook into the waistband of your panties, not bothering with your skirt at all.

“ Christ,” Joel mutters as he pulls the wet, thin fabric down your legs. An obscene string of slick connects your core to the fabric, refusing to break until your panties reach your knees. You feel like you should feel embarrassed, but you don’t, especially not when you see how heavily Joel swallows, and a sense of pride fills your chest for having caused the reaction. You watch as Joel tosses your panties somewhere behind him, likely landing among a pile of metal scrap or wood.

He licks a stripe up your leg as he stands and it takes everything in you to still your shaking knees as he reaches the hem of your skirt. One of his broad hands wraps around the back of your neck while the other cups you between your thighs.

“Is that all for me, sweetheart? All wet and aching for me?”

You groan as your eyes flutter shut, nodding your response as you catch your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Lemme hear you, darlin’. Use your words.”

“S’for you. Wet for you.”

A deep, rumbling groan reverberates from the back of Joel’s throat.

“That’s what I thought. Turn around for me.”

You do as he says, planting your hands on the hood of your car while he runs his hands appreciatively over the backs of your thighs, flipping your skirt up onto your hips. He hums and you can practically feel his eyes on you as he takes you in. His hand presses down on your back like before, pressing your chest against the hood. Before you can even process what he’s doing you feel his tongue, hot and wet, dragging from your clit to your opening, making you whine pathetically.

“Such pretty noises for me. Such a pretty pussy.”

The words rush through your ears, loud and clear and dripping with that damn drawl you can’t get enough of. He takes his time savouring the taste of you, his tongue lapping up as much of your wetness as he can. You feel him murmuring against your lips.

So pretty. Tastenso good. So sweet for me.

You lose yourself in the sensation. He’s good. So good. Each lap of his tongue sends you barreling closer to the edge and before you know it, he has your tumbling over it. Your fingers press into the hood and you cry out loudly, your voice echoing through the open space of the garage. He fucks you through it with his tongue, barely letting you come down from your high before you hear the distinctive clink of his belt. You want to turn around, you want to see him and that bulge you’d only felt through his jeans, but you don’t, you can’t. He’s already dragging his hardened length through your folds, spreading you, teasing your opening. 

You whine. You fucking whine for him each time the tip notches at your entrance.

“So needy for me, aren’t you darlin’? You want me to fill you with my cock, don’t you? Tell me that’s what you want, what you need. ”

Your head drops and you arch your back for him.

“Fuck–fuck me, Joel. Please…”

You barely finish speaking before he slides in. Your eyes slam shut as he stretches you wide and you clench around him. He’s suddenly gentle, his strong hand sliding along your ass as he speaks, talking you through the sharp sting.

“There you go, you can take it, baby, I know you can. That’s it, baby.”

He encourages you while you take a few calming, deep breaths as your walls accommodate his girth. He’s big, way bigger than anyone you’ve been with. The sheer size of him has you cock-drunk and almost forgetting how to speak, and he hasn’t even moved yet. After a beat, you manage to find your words.

“I can. I can take it. I’m ready for you Joel.”

“Good girl, real good girl.”

Joel’s fingers dig into the plush flesh of your hips as he pulls out, then interrupts your attempts at protest by slamming back in. Hard.

You’ve never been fucked like this before, so primally, and you don’t think the men back home in Pennsylvania will ever come close. 

“God, Joel. Don’t–don’t stop.”

He laughs behind you, low and deep.

“Can’t get enough, can ya?”

Heat and tension coils tightly low in your belly. Joel is too good at fucking you and you’d be disappointed at how fast everything is going if it weren’t for how fucking good it felt. His cock pounds against the spongy flesh deep within you and you whimper and whine with each sharp snap of his hips. It's almost too much, blinding even, and you gasp wildly as your walls clench around him. 

“You’re close, huh sweetheart? I can feel it, feel you. Let go for me.”

The tension snaps and you swear you see stars when you come around him. Your breath comes in sharp gasps as you desperately cling to your car, and you can’t see or hear anything but the rumble in your ears and his praise floating around you.

“That’s a good girl. Real good girl.”

Joel’s hips stutter as he loses himself in you, pulling out quickly. You whine at the loss as your cunt clenches at nothing but you can’t complain much, not when your legs are still shaking and your body is still convulsing. Joel grunts behind you and you feel the hot, white ropes of his cum coat your ass and the backs of your thighs. 

You’re still trembling when you feel his rough hand rest on your hip again, the other dragging a rag over the mess he’d made. Once done, Joel smooths your skirt back down and pats your ass appreciatively.

“That was good for you, sweetheart.”

He’s so fucking smug it’s not even a question. But he’s right. It was good. Better than good. Incredible, even. 

You turn slowly on wobbly legs, leaning heavily against the hood of your car for support, and nod slowly.

Joel just laughs. You feel the cool sensation of metal when he presses your car keys back into your hand and pats your ass again, sending you on your way like he’d told you to hit the showers after a game.

You start the engine and back out of his driveway, your eyes darting between the review mirror and Joel. He crouches down and you furrow your brow in confusion until he stands back up, twirling your panties on his finger. Your jaw drops when he smirks at you while tucking them into his back pocket. 

He winks, then moves back to his workbench, and you vow that you’ll never go to a mechanic again, deciding it's better to get fucked than fucked over. 

[bloatedandalone04]

If I Love You Was A Promise

➪the one where james’ brother comes home just when things were falling into place.

Warnings: literally nobody is going to read this - pretty much self indulgent tbfh, spoilers for american heist 2014, swearing, mentions of killing, mentions of drugs, alcohol consumption, arguments, mentions of fighting, mentions of blood/wounds, toxic enviroment overall,

Word Count: 6k | Part 2 , Part 3

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

It was nearing nine when the sound of the front door unlocking was heard, and you smiled to yourself when you heard the heavy footsteps of James as he entered the house. 

This was your favorite part of the day, when he comes home and spends the rest of his night with you. 

You hear the sound of the door being locked again as you called out, “Hey, I missed you,” 

James unbuttons his work shirt and tosses it over the back of one of the chairs. The house was small, so he was standing behind you within three strides and wrapping his arms around your waist. “Missed you,”

You grin and tilt your head to the side when he leaned down to press his lips to your neck. “I’m making your favorite,” you say and feel him hum against your shoulder. “And you smell like motor oil.”

James laughed and lifted his head, his lips pressing to your temple as he mumbled, “Sorry. You get used to that smell once you’ve been around it as long as I have,”

You shrug as he steps away. “I don’t mind it,” you say and watch as he lifts his white undershirt over his head, exposing his toned chest and abs. “You’re sexy, so you get a pass.”

“Thanks, baby,” he grinned at you and pressed a kiss to your cheek before wandering off towards the bathroom.

“You’ve got five minutes until dinner will be ready, so don’t be too long,” you call after him as you stir the ground beef around in the pan. “We both know how grumpy you get when it comes to cold food.”

He calls back a muffled, “Alright,” and you were left smiling to yourself as you got out the fillings for tacos. 

Fifteen minutes later James was sitting on the same chair he tossed his shirt on, and you were perched on his lap like it was your throne, and it kind of was. You lean back against him as you bring the perfectly wrapped taco up to his lips, your palm catching the bits of filling that fell from the wrap. 

You pop them into your mouth and wrap your arm around his shoulders as you settle against him. “Did you have a good day?” You ask once you finished chewing, setting the half eaten taco down on the plate so you could wrap your other arm around him. 

“It was alright,” James answered and wrapped his own arms around your middle. “Heard back from the bank people.”

You perk up at that. “You did? What did they say?” You ask. “Did they agree to loan you the money?”

James can’t look you in the eye when he mumbles, “No,” as he felt embarrassed that he couldn’t come up with the amount of money he needed to start his own repair business. 

He was also embarrassed that he was barely making enough money to get the two of you by. No matter how much overtime he put in at Lewis’ Auto, no matter how many hours he worked, he still found himself scavenging for funds. He was embarrassed beyond words at his current financial situation, but you made it all seem better somehow. 

James knew you didn’t care how much, or how little, he made. You weren’t with him for his money, as you made a pretty cent from your own job as an assistant manager at a popular restaurant in town. New Orleans held some pretty low quality restaurants and pubs, and you got lucky to be hired at one of the nicer ones.

James wasn’t a fan of where he lived and didn’t like the idea of you working near the run down locations by your shared home, so to know you were in the safer part of town for the most part of your day was reassuring, to say the least.

Despite the unfortunate news that his offer had been rejected by yet another bank, you just sat up a bit straighter and reached up to flatten out his still damp hair. “That’s okay,” you assure him. “We’ll figure something else out.”

Of course, you were disappointed, because you are his number one supporter when it comes to his dream of starting his own business, but you also knew how tough it can be to catch a break when someone has a past like James’.

You had never and will never judge him for what he did in the years before he met you, but you also understood why he was having such a hard time finding someone who was willing to lend him the starting fund he needed to begin his business. 

“Yeah?” He asked as he moved his hands so they were resting on your hips. 

“Yes,” you nod and press a chaste kiss to his lips. “J Kelly Auto will happen eventually.”

“I love you,” he can’t help but say. “You know that? I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

“I love you, too,” you say back. “And that’s all that matters.”

James gives you a grateful smile and nod before asking, “How was your day?”

You shrug. “It was fine. I got a decent amount of tips, one elderly couple gave me a thirty dollar tip, can you believe that?” You ask and watch as he shakes his head at you. “Thirty dollars, and all because I said that they reminded me of us. I told the man that he was like an older version of my boyfriend, and then he gave me three tens when he came up to the counter to pay.” 

“Wow,” James hummed, running his nose along the edge of your jaw. “I hope I can spare thirty bucks when I’m his age. How old did you say he was?”

“I don’t know, I’d guess he’s in his late seventies,” 

James let out a low whistle. “I have just over forty years to save up enough money so I can give out thirty dollar tips to cute managers,”

You roll your eyes and reach over to pick up the small bits of ground beef that were left on the plate, sprinkling the crumbs into your mouth before correcting him, “Assistant manager,” you mumble as your hand traces over the tattoo on his arm, the simple font displaying your birth year. He had gotten the tattoo for you about seven months into your relationship, and for the past three years, it quickly had become one of your favorite pieces of artwork that adorned his body. 

He shakes his head again and hugs you tighter against him. “Same difference,”

“Oh, I meant to tell you earlier,” you begin and sit up, wiping the excess crumbs from off your hand. “My car is making a weird noise whenever I turn left. I noticed it this morning after you went to work, and I was going to stop by Lewis’ but I was running late.”

James nods and runs his hands up your back. “Okay, I’ll take a look at it before I leave tomorrow,” he offers. “Maybe I’ll take your car to work with me and you can use mine while I fix yours.”

You give him a look of surprise. “Really? You’d let me drive the Duster?” 

He nods, closing his eyes as he brushes his nose against yours. “You’d be surprised at the things I’d let you get away with, baby,”

You hum softly, moving your body so you are straddling him. “I guess that makes me the lucky one,” you mumble before leaning in and connecting your lips in a searing kiss. 

-

The sight you were met with when you returned home from work the next day was one you weren’t expecting. After parking James’ beloved Duster on the side of the road next to the house, you find the door unlocked as you enter the house and shrug off your jacket. 

James was sitting at the piano, and you took notice of how dark it was in the house, with the only light source coming from the lamp in the kitchen. “Hey, Jamie,” you quietly greet him as you place your jacket on the back of the chair. “The chef made too many servings of cannelloni tonight, and guess who got to take the leftovers home?” 

You knew James loved it when you cooked him homemade food, but you also knew you weren’t as skilled in the kitchen as the staff at the restaurant, so there was a handful of food you weren’t able to make yourself. Cannelloni was one of them, and they were also one of his favorite items on the menu, so you expected he would be happy to hear you got to bring some home. 

He was sitting at the piano but wasn’t playing anything. In fact, his hands were placed in his lap, and when he turned his head to look up at you, the state of his face had you stepping back with a gasp. 

“Jesus, James,” you say in shock, blindly reaching behind you to flip the lightswitch. With the lights now on, you had a clear view of his face and the damage that had been done to it. The skin around his right eye was a light shade of red, and you could see a bruise starting to form. His lower lip had a small cut on it as well, and there was a bit of dried blood still on his chin. “What the hell happened?”

“I fixed your car,” he said. You step towards him again and gently grip his face, turning it so the light was shining directly on him. As you examine his injuries, you take his hand in yours, and it was then when you saw that his knuckles were bruised as well. “Frankie’s back home.” Was all he had to say and you felt your shoulders tense up.

His brother was let out of jail? That in itself was surprising, but not nearly as shocking as the fact that he only had to spend ten years behind bars for killing a cop. James served sixteen months, so you guess you had Frankie to thank for taking the majority of the blame and keeping his little brother out of jail for a decade. If he hadn’t, you would’ve never met him, so you were somewhat thankful for the man, despite only knowing him through James’ stories of him.

“Is that a good thing?” You ask, fearing you already knew the answer, if his face was anything to go by. 

“It’s never a good thing with him,” 

He could say that again. 

You press your lips into a thin line before walking over to the small freezer and rummaging around in it. “Yeah, I guess not,” you mutter and make your way back over to him with a bag of frozen veggies in your hand. “I’m guessing he did this to your face?”

His silence was the only answer you needed, and you sighed as you gently placed the bag against the sore skin around his eye. 

“You know, the more I learn about this guy, the less I want to meet him,” you say under your breath and watch him wince at the cold feeling against his face. 

“I can’t say I actually want you to meet him,” he replied. “I mean, he’s my brother, but I haven’t seen him in ten years. I know I’m not the same person I was a decade ago, but something tells me he didn’t change at all.”

You nod in agreement. “No, you’re not the same person,” you press a kiss to the top of his head as he wraps his arms around your middle. You stood between his legs as he sat at the piano bench, your fingers gently massaging his scalp. “But, you know, maybe I should go and meet this guy, hear what his excuse is for hitting your pretty face.”

James, like you hoped, laughed at that and rested the other side of his face against your stomach. “I’m keeping you as far away from him as I can,” he says and you can’t help but smile at his protectiveness over you. “I don’t need him fucking up what we’ve worked for these past three years. I won’t let him.”

You lean down and press a kiss to the top of his head. “I know, and he won’t, because in case you haven’t noticed; I’m with you. Through everything, I’m on your side,” you promise. “As long as you don’t shut me out, I’m all in.”

James lifted his head and gave you the most grateful look you had ever seen, before standing up and dropping the frozen bag onto the bench. His hands find home on your hips and he dips down to press his lips to yours, ignoring the slight sting that shot through his cut. 

You rest your hands on his chest as he deepens the kiss, letting his mouth tell you all the words he couldn’t form in that moment. He was frustrated and pissed off about Frankie’s sudden return, and even more agitated that Frankie hadn’t even been out of jail for more than a day before he was already trying to rope him back into that lifestyle he no longer wanted any part in. 

He had already made a mess of his face, and to make matters worse, James had a meeting with the bank tomorrow to see if he could talk his way into receiving a loan to get him started on his business. While he didn’t regret getting his tattoos, some of them were questionable, and he was already planning to wear long sleeves to cover them up, but now he’d have to show up with a busted lip and the start of a black eye. 

You’re the first to pull away, but you keep your forehead pressed to his as you say, “Promise me that you won’t let him ruin what you’ve been working so hard for,” you plead. “You’ve been through too much to let it all go to waste.”

James keeps his eyes closed as he mumbles, “I promise,” 

“And if things go wrong or get out of hand or whatever, please,” you start, pulling away so you could look into his eyes. “Don’t shut me out or push me away because you think I can’t handle it or something. I need you to be honest with me, always.”

James reaches up to caress the sides of your face as he nods and steps closer to you. “I promise,” he murmurs again and leans back down to kiss you. “I won’t let Frankie fuck this up for us. Not now and not ever.”

His words were spoken between kisses and you let him coax your worried thoughts out of your head as he backed you towards the bed. When the backs of your knees hit the edge, you fall onto the bed and gently grip James’ biceps as he crawls on top of you.

He made you promise after promise as his lips traced over every inch of your body, and he reassured you for hours on end. While you were still nervous to know that Frankie was a free man now, James was really good at easing your mind and making you believe you had nothing to worry about. 

So, as he held you in his arms later that night, feeding you bites of the now cold cannelloni, you let your mind believe that Frankie was simply just his brother and not a convicted and selfish murderer. 

-

James had a hard time getting out of bed the following morning, but he forced himself to get up and dress himself in his best clothing, hoping to impress the bank teller during his interview he had in about an hour. 

He was nervous, but the quick kiss you gave him and your words of, “Good luck today, you’ll do great. Call me when it’s over, I love you,” was all he needed to feel ready enough to give it his best. 

Once you had left to go to work, he was on his own as he drove to the bank and tried to talk the teller into agreeing on a loan. He wasn’t sure why he thought this time would be different, but something about your hopeful voice and the need to please you had him believing he actually had a chance. 

He left the bank, tugging off his tie as he clicked on your contact. He knew your schedule pretty well now, and he knew you were on your break, so he wasn’t surprised that you picked up after only two rings. “Hi, Jamie!” Your cheerful voice had him squeezing his eyes shut as he sat down on the stairs that led up to the bank doors. “How did it go?”

James rubbed his forehead and sighed, dreading having to tell you the embarrassing news that he had been turned down yet again. “It went well,” he answered honestly. The interview did actually go pretty decently, but in the end, he just wasn’t good enough. 

And somehow you knew that, “But?” You drag the word out and he can hear you fumble around with something on the other end of the line. 

“But,” he started and looked up at the passing cars. “‘They don’t make small business loans anymore.’ Whatever the fuck that means.”

In the break room at the restaurant, you bit down on your bottom lip as you looked over the schedule for the day. “I’m sorry, James, that really sucks,” you weren’t sure how to comfort him without being there with him in person. “Hey, don’t worry about it, someone else will loan you the money, it just takes time.”

Unbeknownst to you, just the sound of your voice brought him a large amount of comfort, and he already felt his mood lifting the longer you spoke to him.

“I’m off early today, Mikey is the supervisor for the next few days,” you explain and James smiled to himself, already knowing where this was heading. “Why don’t I meet you at the bar in a few hours? We can get drunk together and forget about the stupid person who wouldn’t know what a good investment is if it punched them square in the face.”

He laughed and bunched his tie up in his fist. “That sounds good to me, baby,”

“Great,” he could hear the grin in your voice. “Give me, like, three hours, then I’ll be off.”

James nodded even though you couldn’t see him. “Okay,”

“Okay,” he hears someone calling you, and he knew you had to wrap up the call soon. “Okay, well I gotta get back to work, but thank you for calling me. And I mean it, that investor doesn’t know how good they could’ve had it.”

He smiled again at that. “Thanks, sweet girl,”

“I love you, James,” you say softly. “I’ll see you soon.”

“See you soon,” he says back. “I love you, too.”

He waits until you end the call before standing up from the stairs, stuffing his phone in his pocket and making his way to his car. 

-

When James parked outside the bar and made his way inside, the last thing he expected to see was his brother sitting on the stool, clearly on his second or third drink. 

He guessed he’d have to get used to the sight since Frankie was a free man now, and was never one to turn down cheap drinks at a lesser known bar. 

James sighed and made his way over to the man, letting his brother pull him onto the stool next to his and wrap his arm around him. “Yo, I can’t believe this place is still in business, man,” he slurs and gives James a half-assed hand shake. “Yo, let me get another Jamison’s. Two, for me and my brother.”

Yeah, Frankie had definitely had more than one drink so far, if his unsteady stance was anything to go by. 

“My brother,” Frankie mumbles, sitting down again. “How you been, Jimmy?”

“It’s James now, alright? People don’t call me Jimmy no more,”

Frankie tilts his head at that. “No?” He asks, not giving him a chance to respond before he continues, “Okay, James. You all grown up now?”

James shook his head, his expression unimpressed as he asked, “What are you doing here, Frankie?”

His brother sighs and rests a hand on his shoulder, giving him a soft shove as he says, “Look, I know you’re upset, alright? You got a right to be,” he began, and James was already done with this conversation. “It’s just… I figured after all this time, you know?”

“Yeah? What’d you figure, Frankie?” James muttered, wanting to call you and ask for you to just pick up beer and take it back to the house so he could avoid you having to meet his brother. “What’d you figure? You’d come back and what?”

Frankie lit a cigarette and avoided the question. 

“I went to jail, Frankie,”

He was met with a glare. “Bro, you got off easy with sixteen months. I did ten years,”

“Yeah? And whose fault was that?” 

“Mine. It was mine, Jimmy,” Frankie had already gone back to using his past name, but James didn’t bother to correct him. “Every day I was in there, every fucking day, Jimmy, I thought about you.”

James wished he could be comforted by that, but now he just felt on edge. His brother was bad news, and he was quickly realizing that his release might not have been a good thing after all.

“I’m sorry, man. I want to make amends,”

“It’s not so easy, Frankie,”

“I know, I know,” his older brother grunts, reaching over to tug at the hair on James’ neck. “I’m so proud of you, Jimmy, really, I am.”

James shook his head as he watched the bartender pop the caps off the beer.

“I’m proud of you, Jimmy,” Frankie said again. “You’re a fucking good looking kid, man. I mean, I don’t know who mom fucked, but you lucked out.”

That actually had James laughing as he looked over at his brother, his eyes tired and guarded. 

Frankie took a drag from the cigarette. “You know how much I bragged about you? Everyone in D block knows about how you blew up all that stuff, man,” he continued, “You know what kind of street cred I got for having a brother who knows how to blow shit up, man?”

James sighed again at that, wanting to forget that part of his life. “Yeah, well, the world forgets fast, Frankie,”

“So we’ll make ‘em remember,” he puts out the cigarette on the surface of the bar. “I got a solution.” 

“You’ve got a solution?” James felt a sense of dread enter his body at that. He promised you he wouldn’t let his brother drag him back down to the person he once was, and he wasn’t about to break that promise. “Frankie, I’ve changed, alright?”

“Jimmy, I’ve changed,”

He found that hard to believe. “You’ve changed?”

“Yeah, I’ve done a lot of soul searching, really,” Frankie insisted. “I’m, like, Buddha and shit.”

Another laugh escaped James, and these were the kinds of conversations he missed during the last ten years. Just two guys being brothers and talking about the most random things, that was how he wanted to remember Frankie. That was the only thing he wanted to bring back from his past. 

“Believe me, I’ve had time to think, okay?”

James took the bottle that was being held out to him and grasped it with one hand, the cool glass calming down his hot skin. “Yeah, me too,” he said. “All that shit we did, I can’t go back to that. I’ve got a girl now, I’ve got a life. I made promises that I intend on keeping, man.”

Frankie looked surprised at that as he leaned away and rested his elbows on the bar. “A girl, huh?” He asked, bringing the bottle of beer up to his lips. “You been with  her long?”

“Yeah, three years, man,” James answered, feeling a bit panicked that you would have to actually meet his brother now. He was really regretting not calling you and taking the party back home before you even got here. “She’s great and she means a lot to me, alright? She’ll be here any minute and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t give her a hard time.”

Frankie scoffed. “Why would I give her a hard time? She makes my little bro happy! I can’t wait to meet her,” he came off sounding more sarcastic than genuine.

James opened his mouth to plead with his brother, but the feeling of arm wrapping around his shoulders had him biting his tongue. “Hi, Jamie,” came your sweet voice, and he knew it was you by just your touch. 

He turned to you, his arm instantly wrapping around your waist as he tried to shield your body with his own. “Hi, baby,”

You look around him and narrow your eyes at the man smirking at you. “Who’s this?” But you had a feeling you already knew the answer. 

The man, who had more tattoos than James did, reached his arm over and held his hand out to you. “Pleasure to meet you. I’m Frankie, I’m his brother,”

You hesitantly use your free hand to shake his, a nervous smile on your lips when you catch sight of his bruised knuckles. They were bruised because he had decided to re-enter his brother’s life by swinging his fist at him, and the thought had you pulling your hand away after a quick shake. “Y/n,” you say sharply, inching closer to your boyfriend and placing your hand on his thigh. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Your words go straight to the older man’s head, and he nudges James with a sly grin. “Yeah, have you? You been bragging about me, too, Jimmy?” 

James shakes his head, hating that he had put you in this unbelievably awkward situation. You looked like you wanted to leave, and he had no problem leaving with you, but he also knew you didn’t want to be rude to his family member. You were nice like that, and he adored you for it, but this was one situation he would’ve preferred your bratty side to come out and whisk him back home. 

“I wouldn’t call it bragging,” you answer for him, furrowing your brows at his brother. “I hear you’re the one who marked his face up the day before his interview. Kind of fucked up, no?”

Frankie only half listened to you and turned to James with a surprised expression. “An interview? For what?”

James shrugged, not wanting to tell him what the interview was regarding. The last thing he needed was for him to know that he was hoping to start his own Auto business within the next couple of months. “I told you, man, I’ve changed,”

“I can see that,” Frankie gave his shoulder a quick squeeze. “My brother.”

You were beginning to feel overwhelmed, and James knew it as he could feel your body tense up in his arms. He turns to you, protectively  hiding your body from the eyes of his brother. “How was the rest of your shift?” 

Appreciating the fact that he was trying to change the subject, as well as keep your mind off everything, you let yourself relax against the side of his body as his hands smoothed out your work shirt, complete with the logo of the restaurant sewed onto the right side of the chest area. “It was fine,” you answer quietly. “Missed you.” 

James leaned in and allowed you to close the remaining distance for a brief kiss. “Missed you,”

He ordered you a beer after that, and you did your best to keep your interactions with Frankie to a minimum. Seeing as James was sitting between you two, that wasn’t too hard to do. 

Until he decided he wanted to learn more about the girl who had taken over his little brother’s heart. “So, Y/n,” he began, leaning on the bar so he could look around James and at you. “What are you, a waitress, or something?”

He tips his beer bottle in the direction of the logo on your shirt. While you somewhat appreciated his interest in getting to know you, the mocking tone he used wasn’t taken well by James. “She’s the assistant manager,” he answers for you, and you were glad you didn’t have to speak to the man more than you already have. “That place would go to shit without her.”

You roll your eyes and gently slap his shoulder. “I wouldn’t go as far as to say that,” you shrug and take a drink from your beer. “I just put in more hours than most people there and I guess that’s enough to impress my boss.”

James hated when you didn’t hype yourself up and flaunt your accomplishments, but he also knew why you usually kept quiet about those things. You weren’t one to brag, and you preferred to celebrate your successes behind closed doors with him. Still, he wished you could see just how important you are and felt confident enough to share your success.

James couldn’t help but do all the bragging for you, and maybe it was because it was still lost on him how a guy like himself could ever end up with a girl like you. “She’s being modest, man,” 

Frankie cocked his head and raised one brow as he asked, “Yeah? Assistant manager, huh? That’s great,”    

You gave him a forced smile, and you were thankful when your phone went off from its place inside your jean pocket. Grabbing it, you see it’s a call from the restaurant and you lean over, making James lean towards you as well out of habit. “It’s work,” you tell him. “I’ll be right back.”

He nods and you leave the bar after pressing a lingering kiss to his lips. 

Not even a minute after you had excused yourself, Frankie was grabbing James’ attention again. “You’ve found yourself a good one, huh, Jimmy?” He teased and finished his third beer. “She’s great, really. Easy on the eyes, too, man.”

James glared at him, his fingers wrapping tighter around his own beer bottle. “Don’t,”

Frankie held his hands up in self defense. “Hey, bro, I’m just saying,” he says. “She’s a looker.”

James opened his mouth to defend you, but turned when he felt your hand on his arm. “Hey, Jamie,” you begin, giving him a guilty look. “That was Mikey, he needs me to cover someone’s shift.”

He gives you a somewhat hidden look of disappointment and runs his left hand up your back, his tattoo he got for you on full display in the dim lighting. 

“I’m sorry, I know we were supposed to get drunk together and forget about that stupid interviewer. If it helps, I was really looking forward to you taking me home later,” you say the last part directly next to his ear, so only he could hear it in the somewhat loud bar. “I’ll be home by ten at the latest, I promise.”

James, the understanding guy he had become, nods and pulls you a bit closer to say, “That’s fine, baby,” he then adds, “Are you okay to drive?” 

He knew you were a bit of a lightweight, and he could hold his alcohol a lot better than you could (he had Frankie to thank for introducing him to it at a young age), so he was prepared to drive you back to the restaurant if you needed him to. 

You just shook your head, not even having the chance to finish your beer before you had to leave. “Yeah, I’m good. Stay, hang out with your brother,” you give said brother a guarded look. “I’ll see you at home.”

“Okay,” James says and presses his lips to the side of your head in a quick kiss. “Be safe.”

“I always am,” you grin at him before quickly adding, “You too, please.”

You left shortly after that, bidding Frankie a quick goodbye before leaving the bar. “I like her,” he said and James scoffed, still wishing you hadn’t been given the chance to meet him. At least not yet. “She seems sweet, innocent.”

James finished his beer and turned to face his brother. “Enough, Frankie. Whatever you’re thinking about her, get it out of your head,” he muttered. “I’m trying to marry her, start a life together.”

Frankie leaned back on the stool. “Marry? Fuck, man, I didn’t realize it was that serious,” he said under his breath. “Look, just give the broad moms old ring and call it a day.” 

“Don’t talk about her like that,” James sat up straighter and narrowed his eyes. “I mean it. And moms ring is worthless compared to her. A cheap and ugly band that had no business leaving her finger. We should’ve buried her with it.”

“Hey, I had no part in that. I was locked up when she kicked the bucket, remember? Taking that thing off her finger wasn’t my idea,” Frankie muttered. A moment of silence passed before he got that look in his eye. “About before; I’m gonna make things right. You need money? To buy your girl a ring? I know two guys, good guys, alright, Jimmy? They really looked out for me in the joint.”

James hummed, already feeling on edge again now that he was alone with his brother. He knew you brought him comfort whenever you were near him, but he never expected to feel like this around his own flesh and blood. He wished he went home when you left. “What about ‘em?”

“We all want the same things,” Frankie began, lighting up another cigarette. “To overcome the obstacles.”

James gave him a weary look. “Frankie, I’m not doing nothing shady,”

Frankie took a swig of his fourth beer. “Shady? You call real estate shady?”

A snort escapes James. “Real estate?” He laughed. “What, you get yourself a fucking real estate license when you were locked up?”

Frankie curses him out, “I ain’t trying to be a fucking agent, bro, I’m the boss. I call the shots, cash the checks,” 

“In that cheap suit?”

“Fuck you, man,”

“Yeah, fuck you, too,”

A calmness passes by the brothers for a second or two. “I want to look out for you, man. Like the old days,” James didn’t have the heart to tell him that he would never go back to how he was in the old days again. “Me and you against the world, remember?”

“Its been ten years, Frankie,”

“So what? Let’s go flip some houses, bro,” for some reason, James was actually starting to believe the words his brother was saying, and he hoped that didn’t mean he was already beginning to slip back into his old ways. “Flip and fix.”

“And where are you getting the cash from?” 

“An investor,” Frankie answers and that grabs his attention more than anything else he had said tonight. “I got an investor. He’ll take most of it at first, but it’ll be a good start.”

James let his mind wander. 

An investor? That could be huge. He could start his business, buy you your ring, and get out of the house he barely called a home.

At the end of the day, Frankie was bad news, and James had a horrible feeling about all of this. 

Still, would he really lead him down a bad road just a few days after he got out of jail? He really wanted to believe that his brother truly did change in the last ten years. 

Before he could answer, Frankie was getting up. “Come on. I want you to meet my boys, they’re outside,”

[swimmingruinsdream]

I Can't I Have Plans In The Garage Fathers' Day Car Mechanics T-Shirt

This cool t-shirt is perfect for any dad who loves spending time in the garage tinkering with cars! Featuring the phrase "I Can't, I Have Plans In The Garage", this shirt is a great gift for Father's Day or any occasion.

[galaxyedging]

Joel Miller x Jackson Dr reader

Fluffy little one shot.

Warnings: Depictions of small surgery. Mentions of cancer. Drug use.

Carpe Diem

The days at Jackson's clinic were never boring. The community ran pretty smoothly but when you have that many people living and working together things will happen. Accidents, fights, STDs, common bugs spreading like wildfire. Children are still children even post-apocalypse. They still eat what they shouldn't and shove things up their noses. Experimental teens will eat things they shouldn't and shove things where they shouldn't.

Between being an inner city ER doctor before the outbreak and Jackson’s small town vibes, you'd seen pretty much everything. Not much surprised you. Until the night, you were getting ready to go home and came face to board chest with Joel Miller.

Office hours were over, the day had been pretty quiet. A mildly sprained ankle. A pre-natal check up. There hadn't been much tidying to do. After spending the previous day helping repair some homes that took the brunt of a summer storm, you were looking forward to a hot bath to soothe your aches. The thought of the warm water loosening you up, held your attention as you moved around, locking up on auto pilot. Finally moving to the front door you open it just in time to have Joel shoved at you down the few steps by Ellie who called back “Be good!” as she ran off.

“Sorry.” Joel's hands ghost your sides as you right yourself from the impact.

“What was that about?!” You laugh still watching as Ellie disappears down main street.

“Er…I have something I've been meaning to get checked out. Ellie found out and wanted me to come.” Joel took note of your backpack on your shoulder. “But I can see that you're ready to leave. I'll swing by another day.”

“No, you will not.” your authoritative tone startles Joel. “I've known plenty of men like you. That will avoid the doctors at all costs and say they are ‘fine’ even when they are hurting. By some miracle you are at my door so you will go inside and be treated, Mr Miller.”

Joel's hands rise with his palms up in surrender.

“Yes, Doctor.” He gives you a smile as he steps into the hallway.

The smile that tugs at your own lips is hidden from him as he makes his way to your office. Even if he doesn't seek treatment for himself, Ellie is no stranger to your office.

“So what can I help you with?” You slip into doctor mode after taking a minute to admire how Joel fills out the seat in front of you.

“Er, I have this lump…” Joel starts from under his thick lashes as he looks intently at your desk. “...I've had it a while.”

“How long is a while?” You query.

“About six months.” Joel admits sheepishly. “It's only been sore for like a week.” He adds in a weak attempt at a defence.

“Alright.” You try to keep the annoyance out of your tone. “Where is it?”

Joel seems relieved that you haven't landed into him more. “It's on my back.”

“I'll close the curtain to give you a moment to remove your shirt and lay face down on the bed.” Joel knows there's no room for argument so he makes his way over.

With the curtains closed, you begin to wash up. While you scrub your hands you can help but notice Joel's silhouette in the mirror over the sink. His thick arms bend and flex as he removes his shirt and t-shirt.

Joel had always caught your eye and the two nurses who worked with you were convinced that you'd caught his. Joel was well respected around the community. He was dependable and selfless with his time. He didn't always make the effort with small talk but there was a lot going on under his gruff looking exterior once he let you in. Since he held a conversation with you quite often, that was enough evidence for your co-workers to be convinced that Joel was infatuated with you.

“Are you decent?” You call out, approaching the curtain.

“As I'll ever be.” Joel calls back.

Joel's sense of humour always brings a smile to your face. Even the dad jokes he teases Ellie with, brighten your day.

“Let's see now. No redness. Am I alright to touch you?” You ask, your hands ready and waiting for Joel's permission.

“Yea..yes.” Joel clears his throat and shifts a little on the bed.

Another smile finds its way onto your lips as you wonder if Joel is a little nervous around you in the same way you are around him. Like how you become more self conscious as you want him to see the best version of you.

“Mmmm….uh-huh…okay. You should have come sooner…” It may not be very professional but you wanted to give Joel a little scare. He tried to stutter out ‘why’ before you continued. “...this could have been something bad. Luckily for you it's just a cyst. I can remove it and it will heal up nicely if I get it all.”

Joel's broad shoulders rise and fall as he sighs in relief, the action sends a ripple of flexing down the muscles of his and your hands long to follow them. “Thank you, Doc.”

“Don't thank me just yet. We don't have any local at the moment. I have something to take the edge off but it's…erm…experimental at best.” The best words to describe your new ‘treatment’ escape you.

“Well, what is it?” Joel had turned to face you now. His toned, tan chest is on display with a sprinkling of hair and adorable freckles that you could trace with your finger tips.

“It's CBD.” You tried to sound professional.

“Pot?!” Joel huffs a laugh.

“It has many practical applications. Some patients report it has pain relieving effects when ingested.” Your tone becomes defensive.

“Ingested? You want me to eat it?” The bemused look on Joel’s face cracked through your facade.

“Well, yeah. Damn, Joel, it's not like I can just go out and grab some pain killers. And are you telling me that a man of the world such as yourself has never tried weed before?” You arch an accusatory eyebrow at him.

“Maybe once or twice back in the day.” He gives you a knowing smirk.

Ignoring the goose pimples that break out on your flesh at the sight, you push forward. “Well, then, it's up to you. Let me just cut into your back? Or let me do it while you're high?”

“I didn't peg you for a drug pusher but I'll take the second option.” His voice is decisive until he adds. “Just promise not to take any notice if I start talking all loopy.”

If Joel feels the incision, he doesn't mention it. He'd been lying almost comatose on the bed for ten minutes before you decided to go ahead.

“How are you doing, Joel?” You speak a little louder to grab his floating attention.

“M'good.” He almost slurs.

“Good. So you can't feel anything?” You follow up.

“Nope. Just your magical hands. They're so soft. You're so soft and sweet and pretty…shit! I shouldn't have said that. You are very, very pretty, though. And smart. God, and funny!” The words just run off Joel's loose tongue.

“If you think all those nice things about me, why didn't you come sooner?” With the cyst removed all you have to do is sew Joel up. Sober Joel will probably appreciate you keeping him on the topic of the matter at hand.

“Because I think all those things, I was embarrassed.” The last part is muttered against the bed.

“So you risked it becoming serious, rather than see me?” The final stitch goes in as you shake your head.

“I've had something similar before. Plus what else can a lump mean? Cancer? We ain't exactly equipped to cure that.” The laugh he lets out is bitter.

The fingers checking the stitches stray to stroke his skin softly. “So why did you come today?”

“Ellie.” He responded.

“Well, yeah. I saw that and I know she can be very formidable but surely…”

Joel cuts you off. “No, not like that. If it was something bad, even if we couldn't stop it from…maybe we could have slowed it and I could have gotten more time with her.”

The second the words leave Joel's mouth, your professionalism leaves with them. Your hand lays fully against his bare back. “Joel…that's…beautiful. Ellie is lucky to have found you.”

Shifting to sit up Joel catches your hand as you pull it back. “Thanks, Doc. Maybe now that I know I have more time, you might let me spend some of it with you?”

Despite your best efforts you were sure that your thoughts were clear on your face. “I'll need to check those stitches in a couple of days. If you still think I'm pretty when you aren't high as a kite, we'll talk then.”

“It's a date.” Joel says with a lopsided smile.

“No, it's an appointment!” You chide him.

“Do you make house calls?” Those deep brown eyes burn whiskey gold in the setting sun as they widen into the most pleading puppy dog eyes.

“I think I can in this case.” You give him a smile before heading off to get dressings for his wound.

A few days later, you climb the steps of Joel's porch. The door swings open and Ellie shoots out, again calling out ‘Be good!’ behind her. The scent of honey and tea brewing flows on the wind from the open door. Joel soon fills the gap with his wide frame a second later.

“Come in, Doc. You hungry?” He throws over his shoulder as he leads the way to the dining table, already set up with sandwiches and a freshly made cake.

“What's all this?” Your light laughter joins the honey on the breeze.

“I told you, it's a date.” Joel smiles confidently. “The only thing is that I forgot to put the iced tea on. So we've got some time to kill while it cools.” Joel steps closer keeping his hands on his hips.

“How do you suggest that we pass the time?” It’s your turn to step closer, your hands find your way to the soft flannel on Joel's chest.

“I got a couple of ideas.” Joel's large hands smooth around your waist.

“Are you always this forward, Mr Miller?” Joel's lips are temptingly close to yours as you speak.

Joel obviously notices too as his eyes flicker downwards. “I had a health scare recently. It inspired me to seize the day.”

The air between you is charged with your teasing banter and gentle touches. “Really? What does your physician think of that?”

Joel moves closer still. “From the way they had their hands on my last me I saw them, I think they'd approve.” Once the words are out, his lips are on yours.

The tea is more than cooled by the time you and Joel finish making out on the sofa like teenagers.

Tags: @kirsteng42 @prolix-yuy @hquinzelle @fangirl-316 @gracie7209 @jedifarmerr @doommommy @scorpio-marionette @sturkillerbase @harriedandharassed @aynsleywalker @mswarriorbabe80 @rise-my-angel @adancedivasmom @kinda-nobody @movievillainess721 @munsonownsmyass @mandoloriancookie @faceache111 @elegantduckturtle @manazo @simpingcowboy @pedrit0-pascalit0 @yourcoolauntie @pedrostories @geekrenaissance @its-nebuleuse @sherala007 @vabeachazn

[princess-of-the-corner]

I forget if I ever mentioned The Batman's Clock King to you (Saw your TAS Clock King reblog) but I adore The Batman's version.

Literally just a regular guy with a new born son and a household strapped for cash. His attempt to steal something to keep them afloat leads to a daisy chain reaction that sees a lot of people hurt so the court throws the book at him for what otherwise would have been petty theft.

He's good at fixing clocks due to it being a hobby, so prisoners & guards keep having him do it cos its free. But constantly being surrounded by clocks steadily causes him to suffer sanity erosion as he languishes in all the time he's losing. The ticking becomes to deafening and all consuming all he can think to do is scream.

STOP

& it does, for just a moment.

He has such a close bond with time by the time he gets out he can reverse time by about 5 seconds, but that is as far as he could go. With his wife having had to leave him, his son now basically an adult and not knowing him and no prospects he sets out for revenge.

IE, he plans to basically blow up a huge chunk of Gotham, they stole his life, so he will steal theirs. Fighting Batman is just like, something that has to happen when the caped crusader shows up to stop him stealing the tools he needs to build his mega bomb.

What's fun, even outside all the drama and clock stuff, is that he's otherwise a literally hilarious villain. He doesn't have a suit or a gimmick, he's just a regularly dressed guy in pants, shirt and jacket. He also makes it a point to rewind time so he can deliver effective banter that doesn't make him sound dorky & sometimes steals people's insults.

IE in the opening he steals something and trips, the security guard says "Nice job captain kluts" so he rewinds time and trips the guard on it instead, and returns the favor before bailing.

This also allows for a lot f comedic screw ups like trying to spring a trap by dropping tons of barrels on Batman only to hit the wrong button, "Typical" he sighs.

This minor time rewinds also lets him beat Batman, Robin & Batgirl, simply cos he can keep replaying till he knows exactly what they'll do before they do.

Though a weakness I stole for my Snake Miraculous, is that if he does this enough times others start getting a sense of dejavu, only a little but it an help.

What's extra interesting is that he actually 'wins' in the sense that even that dejavu thing isn't enough for Bruce to think he can be assured victory. So he sends Batgirl to get the guys son, which means his kid is at ground zero of the poison when it goes off and starts killing everyone in Gotham.

Cue him freaking out and resetting time back tot he moment he tried to steal the watch and not doing so. Then smash cut to like 18 years latter and he and his son are clock repair guys and it ends on a happy note.

Dunno, he's just a great villain and fun character; plus the premise feels like it could be its own original movie. Plus I do lie the dejavu weakness, its just subtle enough that it wouldn't help most people, but just enough of an Achilles heel that it means time rewinding doesn't mean auto win.

that's cool actually

[startrekfangirl2233-writes]

Starrrrr, my babe! Congrats on your 100 followers, that is amazing! You are amazing! IT'S ALL SO AMAZING! Happy squirrel and fellow CCS here. My request---Bradley (because DUH, it's me!), and a fluffy “You’re beautiful, you know that right?” moment because I'm feral over the idea of this man speaking these words to me. <3

Meer, my darling! Here's the fluffy Bradley Bradshaw fic you requested! Enjoy! This "You’re beautiful, you know that right?" moment is brought to you by the 1966 Ford Bronco MT drove in his first TG:M scene! 🥰 😘

The Mechanic

Cars. You love them. You also hate that you love them as much as you do. You’d taken over your grandfather’s small auto repair shop three years ago when the stress was too much for his body. Since then, you’ve been finding grease in places grease definitely should not be while slowly building your reputation amongst the car collectors in the greater San Diego area. You’re half under a mint-green Chevrolet Bel Air when you hear a car roll up into the shop’s lot. The engine sounds pretty good and you can hear the faint strands of music pouring out of the cab before it stops. Whoever it is will talk to your Grandad first.

Despite his ailing bones, and his trust in your abilities, your Grandad had still wanted to be involved with the shop. So the two of you had compromised. You’d do the work while your Grandad ran the front of the house. That way he could still talk to your customers about their vehicles without stressing himself out by trying to move heavy car parts. And, your grandma had shared in secret a few weeks after the arrangement started, that it got him out of the house and out of her hair!

It helped too, that your Grandad still had all of his contacts in the collectible car community. They were a godsend when you were looking for rare parts. The Bel Air, for instance that you’re under? You’d needed to source and build the entire engine from scratch and restore the exterior. The beautiful car had been rusting away in an old barn for years before the owners unearthed it and decided it needed to be restored. It was finally nearly complete and the engine purred like a kitten now that you’ve gotten it all hooked up. You are completing your final checks on the undercarriage when you feel a knock against your work boot. 

You roll out from under the truck to see your Grandad and what has to be the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen.

“Hey, kiddo. This here is Bradley Bradshaw. He’s got a 1966 Ford Bronco which he’d like to get fully restored. Bradley, this is my granddaughter. She does the actual hard work around this place.”

Your eyes widen as you look at him. He’s wearing a garish Hawaiian print shirt over a white singlet, slim-fitting jeans and boots. He’s got a pair of aviators hanging from the neck and his arms are crossed against his chest, biceps bulging alluringly. He’s so clean that it has you reaching for the rag scrunched into your pocket so you can wipe as much grease from your hands as possible. 

You proffer your slightly cleaner hand at him with a sigh, introducing yourself by name this time.

“It’s nice to meet you. A ‘66 Bronco?” You whistle through your teeth at the thought. “Do you have it here with you? I’d love to take a look under the hood first. Then we can discuss what you’d like restored and how.”

“Sure. I drove it here today.” His voice is smooth and a little raspy. If you weren’t covered in grease and other unmentionable vehicle fluids you’d have swooned into his arms.

“Great! Bring it to the lift to the right. And we’ll get her hooked and take a look.” You’re smiling your best customer service smile and trying your best to hide the way you’re drooling at the sight of his ass when your Grandad elbows you.

“Kiddo. Keep your eyes on the prize. He’s a good man. But only once you’ve fixed the car. You know the first rule.” His voice is gruff and chiding as he squeezes your fingers.

“Yeah, gramps, don’t get distracted by the clients.” Your voice in turn is dismayed and small at the admonishment.

Neither of you can calm your joy when he pulls the car up to the lift, though. It’s a gorgeous machine, cobalt blue paint glistening in the late afternoon sun. 

“She’s beautiful, kiddo. Have fun!” Waving over his head, your grandfather retreats to the air conditioned office again.

“He’s right.” Your voice is reverent as you trace the sleek curves of the car. “Can I pop the hood, Bradshaw?”

At his nod, you prop the hood open, and take a look at the engine. It’s in way better repair than you would have expected. There are a few parts here and there which don’t look like originals, but on the whole, your auditory assessment from earlier holds up. This is a well taken care of car.

“Not bad, Bradshaw. Most of this engine is original?” You’re completely in mechanic mode as you grab a clipboard and start jotting down notes.

“Yeah, this car was my dad’s. He bought it before I was born and kept it in mint condition until he died. My mom took over at that point and then when I could drive, I did the same. Obviously she’s needed a couple of replacements and ‘66 Bronco parts in good condition are hard to find.” His face is soft and sad as he looks down at the engine. This car is important to him. You’re already resolved to track down as many parts as you can. And that’s what you and Bradley Bradshaw agree to; you’ll restore the Bronco and track down as many original parts as you can.

It takes you upwards of a year to finish the project. You’ve never felt so connected to a vehicle or its history. It’s become normal for Bradley Bradshaw to pop into the shop on his days off and to just hang out by the Bronco chatting with you as you and your staff work away. It’s harder and harder for you to keep your Grandad’s first rule. But you’re not distracted. You’re falling head over heels for the gorgeous, sweet, bear of a man with such an attachment to an old truck. 

Things boil to a fever pitch the day you finally fit in the final part of the car. Bradley Bradshaw has been on a ship for the better part of the past 3 months. Your chats about the Bronco have been taking place over video call and you’re not expecting to see him for two weeks. You’re just about to close the hood and start her up when you hear a voice that makes your heart skip a beat.

“That’s one beautiful car, doll.” You can feel the heat in your face at the endearment as you whip around. Sure enough, it’s Bradley Bradshaw clad in his khaki uniform.

“Yeah, it is, isn’t it? Want to start her up?” Your smile is soft as you see the joy in his face as you toss him the keys. He’s grinning boyish and sweetly at you as he hefts his body into the front seat and turns the key. Your breath is bated as you hear the engine turn over before it finally catches. Your gasp of relief at the purring motor is shadowed only by the whoop of pure glee that pours from his mouth.

“Doll! You did it! My dad’s car! It’s perfect!” You’re smiling too when he bounces up to you and holds his hand out. You can sense an unbridled energy coursing through his veins at the thought of taking the car for a spin. But things are quiet between you as he settles the bill in the office and you go about freeing the car from your work area. It’s not until he’s pulled out into the parking lot that you hear his voice again.

“Hey, doll! Now that I’m no longer a client, I need to tell you something.” His eyes glimmer in the sunlight as he looks at you. “You’re beautiful, you know that right? Let me take you out to dinner?”

“I’m covered in grease right now, Bradshaw! If you think I’m beautiful now, let me know what you think when I’m all cleaned up!” Your voice is teasing as he winks at you.

“I’ll think you’re absolutely beautiful no matter what. The Bronco and I will pick you up on Friday at 6 pm. No grease included. Bye, doll!”

Your smile is giddy and disbelieving as you watch the most gorgeous car you've ever worked on and its owner drive off into the sunset. Friday night is going to be a lot of fun.  

Want to request something for my 100 Follower Celebration? The guidelines are here! Please leave me a request in my inbox with your ask!

- XOXO Star

[petalstoashes]

Sasusaku Smut Recs

sasusaku smut you probably haven't read yet

Green - pWITHp, Sensual, Vanilla, etc.

Orange - Semi-public, Light b/ndage, Soft k!nks , etc.

Red - BD*S*M, A/B/O, Hard k!nks, etc.

Purple - Dark Content, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat (read tags)

+ Tender - pain_somnia @pain-somnia

So he ignored it as best as he could.

He ignored freckled shoulders and winsome smiles meant just for him. He ignored creamy thighs and slender fingers that pinched at the back of his shirt.

Those tender feelings weren’t meant for him to explore.

+ Happy Birthday, Sakura - Efaya

As they were finally left alone, Sasuke took another swig of sake, as did Sakura, sitting quietly next to one another. It was a peaceful silence, just small sips of sake shared between them in the dark evening, accented by hanging lights across the top of the bar. Sasuke put his glass down, his gaze returning to his companion. “The dobe forgot.

+ Hush - SouthSideStory @southsidestory

They have to be quiet. Sasuke's parents are only one floor down, and they sleep lightly, like most shinobi. It's difficult, though, when he's touching her like this and whispering loving words in her ear...

+ Bite Hard - MelliCity @mellicity

(Recreational Dr/g Use)

It didn't help that the w/ed they were smoking was going straight to her p/ssy.

+ Restraint - sparklyfaerie @sparklyfaerie

Sasuke does not often exert this kind of dominance over her.

+ Train Wrecked - Annonymous

(Public s/x, Strangers k!nk)

sakura would always catch the eye of a certain black haired guy during her train ride.

+ Plush - moontown

(light sp/nking)

"Basically, they were both a little thicker than they had been ten years ago. But that wasn’t the problem.

The problem was that they still wanted to f/ck like horny teenagers."

+ The Cherry Wood Armorie - Endoh

(mirror s/x, soft k!nks)

no summary

+ she's just like candy (she's so sweet) - iwasbitch

Log in to read. Hokage Sasuke (Power play, Edge play, Glove k!nk)

shikamaru was right, as he almost always was. sasuke really did want to fuck his head medic.

+ cream filled - brumel

(Threes/me (cursed form), double pen/tration)

Somehow, one night, Sasuke's cursed self manifests itself in the couple's bedroom.

+ good girl - brumel

(Thre/some (clones))

A mistake from Sakura makes Sasuke a very, very happy man.

+ Inside Voices - flipfloppandas

(Femd*m, Pegg/ng)

Sasuke does not need words to speak to her. Likewise, Sakura does not need to speak to get what she wants. Especially not when they want the same thing. That thing being her absolutely ruining him.

+ Shakti - specwrites

(D*m/S*b, Rough body play)

He never wanted a good fuck like he did after a fight.

Call it adrenaline, call it a literal lust for power, call it what you will; the woman writhing underneath him was only too happy to comply. 

+ Thot Seat - moontown

Multi-chap (An*l, Bre/ding K!nk, Public S/x)

It was just a game that college kids liked to play, but as stupid as it was, it was also extremely informative.

+ hands on the wheel - brumel

Log in to read (Power play, Age difference, Face f/cking)

The amount of times Sasuke finds something wrong with his car in the span of three months since he first visited the auto repair shop is insane. 

+ For Him - silentvoicescryingout

Log in to read (Blo/d play, D*m/S*b, Snakes)

It is Sasuke's birthday and Sakura offers him absolutely everything on a platter.

+ Summoning (Pareas carinatus) - pseudolily

(Teratonoph!llia (Snake-Human Hybrid), Bl/od play)

Sasuke has a secret — one he doesn't give out easily. Not to his closest friends. Not even to his girlfriend, Sakura. It's a summoning privilege, a power he is yet to use, but tonight he lets it out. And he lets it play.

+ Symbiosis - sokku

Multi-chap (Incubus, Vampire, Bre/ding K!nk)

A incubus and a vampire are unlikely combinations that shouldn’t work. But they make it possible.

+ Cake by The Ocean - chickenoodlesoup

(Teratonoph!llia (Mermaid), Bre/ding K!nk)

Mermaid Sakura and Human Sasuke have hot s/x by the ocean

note: i might recommend twitter accounts and twitter/priviter exclusive fics if this post does well.

[hellfiresmaster]

Hey there!. I would like to do a request. Eddie falling in live with a hippy girl/spiritual/religious. We know that Eddie doesn't follow any faith but the reader will show him the whole peace and love, and to find inner peace within himself as a way to heal from his past traumas( like seeing Chrissy die). If you can do it, I would be veeery thankful. Peace and ♡

Hi! :) I made this a short fluffy blurb (i hope you dont mind) <3

Eddie Munson x Reader

Warnings: talk about crystals/sage/meditation, fluff

Word Count: 607

AO3

"Shit." Eddie mumbled as he struggled to open the front door and shuffle inside. The scent of fresh sage and your perfume lingered in the air of your shared home; various crystals adorned the shelf below the television and all the little nooks and crannies of the trailer. A sun catcher hung from above, illuminated by the sunset light peeking through the window and bathing the room in a warm glow. Eddie set his stuff down on the armchair by the door and let his hair loose from the skull bandana he'd been wearing all day. His uniform was worn out, and all the scuffs made it hard to tell where his skin started and where the scattered grease stains ended. Eddie paused momentarily and scanned the living room until they landed on you.

You were settled on the couch, your legs nestled under you, hands resting on your knees, and your eyes shut with a soothing expression on your face. Eddie didn't think he could ever get used to coming home to you; how did he get so lucky? The life you two had built together was more than Eddie could ever dream of. It was perfect with you teaching your yoga classes at the community center and Eddie working long days at the repair shop, even the quaint trailer you moved into earlier this year. He found himself in disbelief constantly at all of it—the physical feel of you being the only thing to ground him to his perfect little reality.

"Eds." Your eyes opened to flash Eddie a warm smile before hurrying towards him and enveloping him in an embrace. He quickly wrapped his arms around you when he felt you cling to his waist, nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck, taking in the comfort of being in your presence and letting all the tension and stress from the day thaw away further under your touch.

"Hey, sweetheart." Eddie sighed onto you, fingers lightly caressing your back. "I'm all dirty, hun." He tried to shimmy away from you to prevent any stains from transferring onto his t-shirt you wore, but you only pulled him closer.

"Don't care. Just missed you." Eddie chuckled under his breath and kissed your head before you pulled away to look toward him. Dark grease marks littered his face, and darkness lay under his weary eyes, the long work day clearly taking a toll on him. "Meditate with me?"

"C'mon on, babe. You know that's not my thing." He cupped your face in his palm with an apologetic look while his thumb stroked your cheek lovingly.

"Pleaseee." You pleaded with doe eyes. "I know how stressed you've been lately with the auto shop and all. It'll help." Although you meditated almost daily, it was never Eddie's thing. He always gave you the needed space and waited patiently in the next room for you, just fidgeting and passing the time until he heard your sweet voice calling him back from the living room so he could finally have you in his arms again.

"Fine. But we're watching a horror movie tonight. My pick." Eddie couldn't help but smirk at how you squealed, and your face lit up at his answer as you pulled him towards the couch with you. Maybe you were right; who knows? He didn't really know what he was in for with this whole meditating thing, if he was being honest. But he knew he loved you more than anything; Eddie trusted you with his life. And if this was another way to have you close to him, hell, he was going to take it.

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