#barns across texas

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

HAND IN UNLOVABLE HAND

PAIRING: THOMAS HEWITT X FEMALE READER

RATING: EXPLICIT (18+ MDNI) | WORD COUNT: 5.8K

SUMMARY | This new man, the tall man with the icy somber eyes and expressionless mask, appeared above you, haloed in sunlight like an angel. By all accounts, he was a far more terrifying man than John or Mike or David, but you don’t see evil when you look at him, when his eyes meet yours for a brief second before looking away. No, not evil, but a familiar reflection, an unkind life that led to unkind circumstances and unkind decisions. You know the look well, it’s the same one you see in the mirror.

WARNINGS | 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT; DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT - this is slasher fan fiction with canon typical violence, mentions of blood, death, cannibalism and gore. if slasher fiction is not your cup of tea, please keep scrolling.

EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT: vaginal fingering, male masturbation, oral sex - f receiving, unprotected p in v, size kink, choking, creampie, praise kink

OTHER WARNINGS: no use of y/n, dual pov, able bodied reader, reader being picked up/carried, virgin thomas hewitt, no skin masks, monsters in love. if i’ve missed any tags, please kindly let me know.

Thomas hears a scream while he’s out in the barn. It cuts off so quickly he damn near thinks he imagined it but if he holds perfectly still and listens, listens, listens, there are noises that don’t belong. A grunt, a smack, a mumbled curse. Knife in hand, he ventures out in search of the source. 

Out on the road there’s a car, hood up and smoke billowing from the engine. A man has a woman pressed to the driver’s side door, forearm tight against her throat and a knife poised in front of her face. Red creeps into Thomas’ vision and his fingers begin to ache around the hilt of his own knife but just as he steps forward, something amazing happens.

The woman spits at the man’s face and in that brief moment of surprise, she brings her hands up and shoves the man back. He stumbles, falling to ground. The knife falls and she goes after it, lunging across the dirt and rocks. The man wraps a hand around her ankle, tugging her down and dragging her back as she screams, fingers digging into the dirt. She kicks, once, twice, the third time finally connecting with a painful crack to the man’s shin and sending him down to the ground again. She crawls away, grabbing the knife and scrambling to her feet. Thomas can see her chest heave with ragged breaths, skin glistening with sweat in the Texas heat. 

He’s not sure he’s ever seen anything more beautiful.

She approaches the man, the knife brandished in front of her. The man rolls onto his back, holds his hands up. A surrender. The woman doesn’t care. Her boot slams into his skull, a shout echoing in the vast emptiness of the road and fields. Thomas feels himself grow hard, pants tightening around his cock. He reaches down, adjusting himself.

The man is on his hands and knees now. Blood streaks his face and drips to the dirt, baptizing the land in violence. She kicks him between the shoulder blades, knocking him flat on his stomach, and stands over him with a leg on either side of his body. The breath catches in Thomas’ throat as she reaches down and tangles her fingers in the man’s hair, lifting his head. The man stares directly at Thomas and his lips move, a cry for help, but he doesn’t hear it. No, not when all his focus is on the way the woman leans close and drags the blade across the man’s neck and the skin splits, muscles and tendons ripping with the force of it and red, red, red spilling free. 

The man’s gaze grows empty and the woman loosens her grip, his head dropping to the ground. She drops to her knees, slams the knife into the man’s back over and over and over, roaring fiercely as she does. She’s covered in the red, red, red, clothes soaked through with it, skin stained and sticky. When she’s finished, she collapses on the ground beside the man, on her back, basking in the sun.

It’s then that Thomas approaches, his shadow falling over her, broad body blocking the sun. She blinks at him but doesn’t scream. Doesn’t run. 

Thomas holds a hand out to her.

To his surprise, she takes it.

Your mind is somewhere in the clouds as you walk beside the lumbering giant that carries John or Mike or David over his shoulder like he weighs nothing, is nothing. The body bounces with each step and you find it almost comical, lips twitching as you fight a smile. Something simmers in your veins, more potent than the adrenaline of the fight or the relief that you won another day against life’s shitty hand. 

This new man, the tall man with the icy somber eyes and expressionless mask, appeared above you, haloed in sunlight like an angel. By all accounts, he was a far more terrifying man than John or Mike or David, but you don’t see evil when you look at him, when his eyes meet yours for a brief second before looking away. No, not evil, but a familiar reflection, an unkind life that led to unkind circumstances and unkind decisions. You know the look well, it’s the same one you see in the mirror.

A house appears on the horizon, a two story Victorian era farmhouse that must have been impressive once before falling into a state of disrepair. There’s a woman on the porch, arms crossed over her chest and a stern look on her face as she watches the two (or is it technically three?) of you approach. 

“Bring ‘im downstairs. I’ll tend to the girl,” she says. The man looks at you, hesitating to follow the command. You give him a nod, the slight dip of your chin enough for his shoulders to relax. His heavy footsteps rattle the dilapidated porch as he disappears inside the house.

The woman leads you to the kitchen and pulls a chair out from the rough wood table for you to take a seat. You watch as she wets a cloth before returning to your side. Cool water hits the hot skin of your face and the rough fabric drags away the dried blood. Her touch is surprisingly gentle.

“You do all that to the fella my boy was carryin’?” She asks.

“Yes,” you reply, voice cracking on the single word that claws at your vocal cords. 

“‘Atta girl.” She smiles. “I’ll get you some water.”

“Thank you.”

She sets a glass on the table and you don’t hesitate to reach for it, chugging down the cold water so quickly it makes your stomach turn. She wordlessly refills it for you, twice, before murmuring a gentle, “That’s enough now, you’ll turn your stomach sour if you keep it up.”

“What’s with this fuckin’ car out on the road?” A voice yells from outside the house. Through the window you catch a glimpse of a man in a Sherriff’s uniform, shotgun held loosely in his hand as he approaches the house. The woman stands, wiping her hands on her apron.

“You don’t say nothin’, alright? You let me handle Charlie,” she commands. You nod.

The man appears in the doorway, eyes immediately landing on you. His leery gaze traces you from head to toe and you fight back the shiver that threatens to race down your spine. Your gaze drops to the floor as he addresses the woman.

“What’s with the whore?” He spits. 

“She’s a guest.”

“A guest? This a bed ‘n breakfast all of a sudden?”

“Thomas brought her up here.” As if summoned by his name, the monster returns. He looms behind the other man, silent. There’s a bucket in his hand that he drops to the floor with a loud clang that makes you jump. The woman pats your shoulder. 

“Tommy boy is takin’ in strays now, huh? What’s next, he’ll find himself some dumpster baby and finish buildin’ a whole happy family?”

The monster, Thomas, grows tense. His shoulders lift and the muscles of his arms flex, his eyes narrowed on the man who’s giving him a shit-eating smile. 

“Tommy, honey, why don’t you bring your guest to one of the rooms upstairs?” The woman suggests. Thomas shoves past Charlie and into the kitchen and stands wordlessly by your side. She nudges your shoulder and you stand, following him as he stomps through the second door to the kitchen. 

Shouting starts up as you leave, the words muffled when the door swings shut behind you. Thomas leads you upstairs to the second floor, where the hallway dark and a thick layer of dust coats anything it can reach. With a grunt he opens a door at the end of the hall and stands aside to allow you through the doorway. 

The room is bare save for a small but tidy bed and dresser. Despite the dust in the hall, the room itself is surprisingly clean. You sit on the bed, testing the squeaky springs with your weight. You look up at the man.

“Your name is Thomas?” You ask. He nods, once, a sharp dip of his chin that has his dirty hair falling into his face. You tell him your name and his blue eyes blink back at you, the only acknowledgment you’ll get.

He lingers for a moment, eyes searching. It doesn’t feel gross, not like when Charlie leered at you downstairs. No, it’s more like he’s committing you to memory. You realize, then, that he’s not looking at you like a predator looks at prey.

He’s looking at you like you’re a prize.

Thomas slams the cleaver down, the thud of it rhythmic, soothing. His thoughts keep straying to ones of you, upstairs in the kitchen with his mama. You’ve been here for two days now and he’s having a hard time concentrating on his chores knowing that you’re in the house, knowing that you’ve stuck around for God only knows what reason. It makes him antsy, suspicious. 

The door to the basement opens and he expects to hear Charlie’s boots stomping down the stairs but he’s surprised when you appear on the last step in an ill fitting dress that mama must have scrounged up for you. Thomas stands perfectly still as you look around the room. 

“This is what you do all day?” You ask. He nods. “That must be hard work.” Mama shouts your name from upstairs, making you jump. You give him a sheepish look. “I’m supposed to come tell you dinner’s ready.”

Thomas grunts, setting down the cleaver and wiping his hands on his apron. He washes up in the bloodstained sink, scrubbing at his fingers as best he can. You’re still on the stairs when he finishes, watching him. It makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up, the way you don’t look away, ashamed of your staring. 

You turn to climb the steps and he follows, a step below you. Your hips sway in front of him and he has visions of grabbing you by the hips, pulling you against his body so tightly you can’t leave, can’t leave, can’t leave. 

Mama is sitting at the table when you both emerge from the darkness, bowls of stew set out for each of you. Thomas sits down to mama’s left and you to her right, across the table from him. The two of you chat about the chores she’s assigned you and are they too much, honey? No, you tell her, you’re happy to help. Mama smiles at you and he knows what she’s thinking, that you’re sent from God himself, the perfect addition to the family. The daughter she never got to have, only the fucked up sons she was cursed and forsaken with. 

Thomas feels something prod his knee beneath the table and he freezes. All of your attention is still focused on mama, your head propped in your hand and your elbow on the table, relaxed as can be. He thinks maybe he just imagined it but he feels it again and this time he jumps, rattling the dishes on the table and sloshing stew from its bowls.

“Thomas! What’s the matter with you?” Mama asks, patting at her dress with a napkin. “You just got us all wet.”

“Yeah, Thomas,” you chime in. “Got me all wet and messy.”

By the look on your face, he knows that you’re not talking about the soup. He’s got some dirty magazines he snuck into the house over the years, women with their legs spread and their hands tied, glistening pussies on full display or the one videotape that Charlie got him, where the woman is split open on a man’s cock, begging for more as the lewd, slick sounds of sex grow louder and louder. The thought of you like that, maybe even because of him, makes his cheeks burn. He grunts, an apology, and his mama waves a hand at you both.

“You better get changed outta that dress before it stains. Can’t be lettin’ one go to waste so quick,” she tells you. You nod, standing from the table and heading for the door. You pause, looking over your shoulder at him and give him a wink. Mama clears her throat, a stern expression on her face as she looks at him.

“And you, boy. Go get yourself cleaned up and brush your damn hair for once. I raised you better than that.”

She didn’t, not really, but he listens to her anyway, trudging back down to the basement to hose himself off and change his clothes. As he cleans up, he thinks about you, because when hasn’t he been since you appeared? His cock hardens and he tries to ignore it, tries to think of the Bible lessons mama loved to teach and how it’s a sin to touch himself but maybe God will forgive him, just this once? 

He wraps a hand around his thick length and squeezes, almost punishing himself. His head drops back and he stares at the ceiling, eyes wide as he tugs and pulls at his cock, slow at first then fast, fast, fast, fist flying with a tight grip until stars burst in his vision and warm come dribbles over his hand. His chest heaves as he catches his breath, blinking away the dark spots as his high fizzles out.

Thomas dries himself and gets dressed before lying down on the mattress in the corner to toss and turn until the sun rises.

The next morning, Thomas doesn’t realize that you haven’t come down from your room until well into the afternoon. Mama’s gone to town and Charlie is off playing Sheriff so it’s just the two of you in the house. He debates whether he should check on you or leave you alone but ultimately the worry that something might be wrong pulls him upstairs and finds him knocking on your door, a quick tap of his knuckles to the wood.There’s no sound from the other side, no shout of fuck off like he’d get from Charlie or a quiet just a minute, sweetheart he’d hear from mama. Tentatively, he turns the handle and pushes the door open, just a crack, enough to peek inside.

You’re in bed, sprawled out on your back with the quilt kicked off to the floor. Your bare breasts draw his eye and he looks away quickly, shame clawing up his throat. The bed creaks as you shift, sleepy noises leaving your lips in the process, and panic races through his veins, worried that you might wake up and find him standing there, worried that it might be what sends you running, worried about what mama will say if you up and leave and it’s his fault, worried, worried, worried.

“Thomas?” You ask, voice raspy. He didn’t even realize that you were awake, stupid, stupid, stupid of him. He should have turned around and left, should have—

“Hey, it’s okay,” you murmur, sitting up. Thomas hesitates, eyes still fixed on the floor. You must notice because from the corner of his eye he notices the quilt get picked up and then you’re telling him, “I’m decent.”

He swallows around the rock lodged in his throat and looks up, meeting your gaze. You don’t look mad or disgusted or upset. You’re actually smiling at him, a hand held out in welcome. He doesn’t dare touch you, but he takes a step closer, body moving like a moth to a flame.

Your head tilts to the side, assessing him, eyes flaying him open and leaving him feeling more exposed than when someone catches him without the mask. You’re holding the quilt up over your chest but Thomas can still see the tantalizing curves of your shoulders, the long line of your neck with the flutter of your pulse beneath delicate skin. It makes his mouth go dry.

“You ever touch a woman, Tommy?” You ask. The question catches him so off guard that all he manages is a strangled noise. “Well? That a yes or a no?” He shakes his head. You smile, lowering the quilt just enough to expose the top curve of your breasts. 

“You wanna?” 

Thomas’ eyes drop to your chest before quickly looking away. A flush creeps up his neck, staining what little of his cheeks you can see above the mask he wears. His hand flexes at his side, fingers curling open and shut. 

“It’s okay, you can look,” you say, gentle, gentle, gentle, like coaxing a scared animal. He looks at you again, blue eyes wide. “Come closer.”

He shuffles closer, looming over the bed, back so wide that he blocks the sun streaming through the window and casts a shadow over your body. You reach for his hand and he jerks away, as if on instinct. You pause, giving him a few seconds of reprieve, then reach for him again, keeping your eyes fixed on his face. Lightly, you touch his hand and when he doesn’t flinch, you grasp it more tightly. 

You guide his hand to your breast, settling his warm palm to your chest. He holds perfectly still for a moment and the restraint of it drives you insane, makes you bite your tongue so hard the taste of copper blooms across your tastebuds. Finally, he leans a little closer, fingers digging into your skin and making you gasp. He massages one breast, then the other, playing with the weight and feel of them in his large hands. You press your thighs together, cunt aching from the attention.

“That feels good,” you tell him, arching into his touch. The praise spurs him on, makes him more confident, and he starts to focus his attention on your nipples, pinching and twisting the sensitive buds. He’s surprisingly gentle despite his size and demeanor. 

You kick away the quilt from your legs, exposing the rest of your body to him. His eyes trail down your body, hands going still. He looks up, tilting his head, asking a question, looking for permission. You nod your head quickly and your heart races as a palm slides down, down, down, until he’s cupping your pussy over your panties. Your hips jump at the friction.

“Oh, fuck,” you whine. Thomas holds his hand still as you grind yourself against his palm. You reach your hands down, holding onto his forearm with a death grip. “Please, please, please!”

His fingers slip beneath the elastic of your panties and you both groan. He plays with the embarrassing amount of wetness, smearing it over your skin. You guide his hand the slightest bit upwards until the calloused pads of his fingers swipe over your clit.

“That’s it, Tommy,” you tell him. “Right there, right there.”

Dutifully, he continues to lavish you with attention, taking every direction beautifully. Slower, faster, harder, he adjusts to every suggestion and has you moaning and crying his name in desperation, but it’s not enough. You’re right there, so close, but you feel so empty, you just need—

“Inside?” You ask. He pauses, brows pinching together. “Put your fingers inside me.”

Slowly, slowly, slowly, he eases one thick finger into your drenched hole. Your head drops back at the sensation, at the relief, and begin to grind your hips again. He starts to see the pattern, moving his hand so that he’s working with your rhythm. You look up at his face and the concentration in his eyes leaves you breathless. All he wants is to do good, be good, make you feel good. 

Thomas presses another finger to your entrance, glancing at your face to make sure it’s okay. When you don’t say otherwise, he works both inside of you in tandem, the stretch making you groan. He curls them, exploring, skimming a spot inside of you that makes you cry out and dig your nails into his arm so hard that he grunts but doesn’t doesn’t pull away.

“I’m gonna come,” you tell him. “You’re doing so good, Tommy, oh my god.”

He’s panting, sweat dripping down his neck, muscles tight with his efforts to wrench an orgasm from you. The lethal combination of his fingers inside of you and his palm against your clit and the muffled noises sneaking past his mask have you tumbling over a precipice so high you worry you might never come down. Your cunt pulses around his fingers and you babble his name and an incoherent stream of praise as your release washes over you, wave after wave of it.

Thomas waits until your body collapses against the mattress and you’re gasping for breath before slowly removing his hand. He holds it up to his face, pink tongue darting out from the slit afforded for his mouth to taste your cum from his fingertips. He groans, his other hand reaching down to press tightly to the sizeable bulge in his pants. He thrusts against his palm once, twice, before going still, shoulders shaking.

A door slams downstairs. Luda Mae’s voice shouts for Thomas and he takes a step back, head whipping towards the door and eyes wide with panic. You scramble from the bed, grabbing your dress and pulling it on quickly so that you can rush out the room, shutting Thomas inside. You lean over the banister and see Luda Mae standing at the top of the basement stairs, hands on her hips.

“I think he went out to the barn,” you call down. She looks up at you.

“Why would he be out there?” She huffs. “And what are you still doin’ in your room? You look a mess.”

“Sorry, m’am. Had trouble sleeping last night.”

Your politeness softens her annoyance. “That’s okay, darlin’, you’re still learnin’ the ropes. I gotta go find Thomas, Charlie’s found some troublemakers.”

“If I see him first, I’ll let him know.” You nervously smooth your hands down your skirt. “What kind of trouble?”

“You don’t worry yourself about that. We’ll let the boys handle it, alright?”

“Yes, m’am.”

“Good girl,” she says. “I’ll be back.”

Luda Mae leaves through the front door and you return to your room. Thomas is standing where you left him, hands curled at his sides. 

“You hear all that?” You ask him. He nods. “What’s going to happen?”

He walks to the window, peeks through the curtain. His shoulders are tense. When he turns back to you, he sets his hands on your shoulders and steers you to the bed, pushing gently until you’re sitting, the springs squeaking beneath your weight. He cups your cheek with one hand and points around the room with the other.

“You want me to stay in here?”

He nods.

“What if you need help?”

He shakes his head. He won’t need help.

“Okay. You better get down there.”

He nods again. Leaning down, he presses his forehead to yours, an approximation of a kiss. You smile at him when he pulls away. He lingers for a brief second longer before tugging open the door and disappearing from the room.

Trouble is heralded by the arrival of Uncle Charlie. You watch through the window as his cop car pulls up in the yard and he gets out, spitting curses you can’t hear. He waves a shotgun in the air, firing off a warning shot that makes you jump. You know Thomas told you to stay in your room but curiosity gets the better of you and you head downstairs.

Luda Mae is in the kitchen, sat at the table with a cup of tea. A piercing scream filters through the open window as she takes a tiny sip from her cup. 

“You need somethin’, dear?” She asks, unperturbed by the interruption. You shake your head.

“No, m’am. Just came to ask if you needed help with dinner.”

“No, no, that’s alright. I got it covered.” Another sip. “Could you get the laundry from the line?”

It’s then that you realize she’s testing you. Earlier she told you to let the men handle it, but she wants to see where your loyalties lie. Thomas told you to stay put, to stay safe, but she’s sending you out to join the wolves because she knows, she knows, she knows that you’re just like them. 

She just needs proof.

You smile. “Of course.”

On your way out of the kitchen, you slip a knife from the butcher block.

One of the men that Charlie dragged home writhes in pain, one leg bent at an unnatural angle. His friend takes off at run, pace as fast as his injured ankle will allow. They’re the last two that need to be dealt with. Thomas raises his chainsaw in the air, ready to end the animal’s suffering, but movement from the corner of his eye makes him pause.

The back door to the house opens and you stroll out into the yard, looking around frantically with a frightened expression. Thomas feels a rush of anger that you didn’t listen to him, didn’t stay up in your room, didn’t stay inside. The anger quickly turns to fear when he sees the other man, the one he intended to deal with later, rushes toward you. You take off, running across the field toward the barn.

Thomas cuts the gas, tosses the chainsaw aside. The muffled whimpers from the man on the ground piss him off and with one, two, three strikes of the heel of his boot, he silences him for good. He heads for the barn, red in his vision with every step. If the other man lays a single finger on you, Thomas will keep him alive but begging for death.

“Come on, we gotta get out of here,” a male voice shouts. “They’re goin’ to kill us!”

Thomas throws open the barn doors, the wood shaking with the force of it. You’re turned away from him and the first thing he notices is the knife held in a tight fist behind your back. The man stumbles to the ground, trying to scramble back from you as Thomas comes closer.

“No. We’re going to kill you,” you tell him. You spring forward, jumping on the man with a feral scream that sounds like music to Thomas’ ears. Your arms swing up, up, up and then slam down, down, down, burying your knife into the man’s chest over and over and over.

Thomas can’t wait anymore. He approaches you from behind and wraps an arm around your waist, lifting you away from the mangled body. You struggle in his hold and he hauls you over to a work bench, swiping the tools to the ground with his other arm and setting you on the surface.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you say immediately, head shaking side to side. “I just wanted to help, I just—“

Your rapid apologies morph into a choked off moan when he lifts your legs, wrapping them around his hips, grinding his painfully hard cock against you. He buries his face into your neck, licking at the blood that stains your perfect skin, the taste of salt and copper opening a pit of hunger in his belly that could never be filled by food.

“Tommy,” you whimper, head dropping back. He licks and bites at all the skin he can find and when he runs out, he drops to his knees and begins anew on the muscles of your legs. 

He pushes the fabric of your dress up, bunching it around your waist to expose your pussy, still covered by the same panties you wore earlier when he made you come on his fingers. Wrapping his fist in the elastic, he pulls until it snaps under the pressure, fabric falling away and leaving you completely bare. 

Thomas pushes your thighs apart, spreading you open. He leans closer, biting at the soft flesh of your thigh, a little harder than he should. The tiny indents his teeth make in your skin are proof that this isn’t some dream. You’re flesh and blood, just like him.

Just for him.

His mouth waters as he nears your cunt, the earlier memory of your taste making that hunger grow to near starvation. His tongue slides over the slick flesh, exploring the dips and folds that taste so sweet it hits him like a sugar high, like when he’d steal a handful of candy from the corner store and eat it all at once, afraid of getting caught.

There’s a quiet thump and Thomas looks up to find that you’ve collapsed onto the table. Hands reach down and your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling on the strands. He remembers the spot that he rubbed with his fingers and searches for it with his tongue, knowing he’s found it when your thighs press against his ears and you moan his name like you did in your room.

“Oh, god! Just like that, Tommy,” you say, holding his head in place. “So good, so fucking good.”

He licks and sucks and grazes his teeth against you to his heart’s content and you writhe beneath him, bucking up against his face so fiercely he has to hold you down with an arm across your lower belly. He grows braver, dipping his tongue into the warmth of your cunt and drinking you from the source until you’re shaking. When he pulls away, he’s awed by the mess he’s made of you, your lips puffy and skin slick and shiny from your cum. He uses his thumbs to spread you apart, admiring the way your hole clenches around nothing.

Thomas stands, unsure of what to do next. You sit up from the table, expression dazed. Tear tracks stain your cheeks and a brief strike of worry hits him. Did he hurt you? Was that too much? Are you—

“Come closer,” you whisper. His thoughts go silent as he obeys. You reach up, cupping his face, hands trailing down to the strap of his apron. You lift it over his head and drops down, hanging limply. 

Your arms wrap around his thick middle, working the knot of strings loose behind his back. It falls to the floor in a heap now and he stares at it, pulse racing as your hands roam to his chest. His breath stutters as your touch traces lower, lower, lower, until your palm presses against his cock and his mouth drops open at the pleasure of it, so different from when he touches himself or ruts his hips into the mattress. He can feel the heat of your skin even through the thick fabric of his pants.

You’re popping the button and dragging down the zipper, wrapping a soft hand around his cock and pulling it free. Thomas groans, loud and rough, as you slide your hand up, thumb swiping over the clear fluid gathered at the very tip. 

You tug on his cock, hard enough that he stumbles forward, pressing closer. You look up at him as you rub the flushed head through your wetness and his shoulders shake at the sensation. You feel so good, so warm, he just wants to—

You notch him at your entrance and on instinct he thrusts forward the slightest bit, just enough that the fat tip of him sinks into tight heat. You gasp, eyes going wide and he’s once again struck with the fear that he could be hurting you, maybe he’s too big, too much of a monster, but when he tries to pull away you’re grabbing his shirt in a tight fist.

“Don’t you dare,” you hiss. “Keep going.”

Thomas obeys, just as he always does, pushing his hips closer, shoving his cock deeper, deeper, deeper. He watches his length disappear, your body stretching to accommodate his size. You look beautiful, with the tears that gather in your eyes and the blood smeared on your chest and the way your thighs shake with the effort to take him, that his chest aches, that last thread of control keeping him slow and steady snapping like his hips as he buries himself inside of you, completely and thoroughly.

You’ve never been this full before. You fall back on the rough wood of the work bench with a gasp, stars in your vision as your body adjusts to the sheer size of the man, the thick length of him splitting you open and leaving you breathless. He leans forward, the angle changing and tears spilling from your eyes as you stare up at the hulking monster above you.

“So big,” you gasp. “God, you’re so fucking big.”

His cock twitches inside of you and you moan, back arching off the bench. He feels so good, even through the burning stretch. You give a tentative wiggle of your hips and his eyelids flutter, a moan escaping him. When the pain eases into a dull ache, you lift a shaky hand to his face, settling your palm against the cool leather of his mask.

“I want you to fuck me, Tommy,” you tell him. “I want you to ruin me.”

His pupils grow impossibly wider and a shadow falls across his features, his demeanor changing in the blink of an eye. Gone is the man who was worried he would hurt you and in his place is the ravenous beast that matches the one clawing at you from the inside, just beneath your ribs where your chest aches with need. He draws his hips back until the tip is barely inside of you before thrusting forward. Your mouth opens, a scream ripping from your lungs but it’s cut short when a large hand wraps around your throat and squeezes. 

Thomas is a man possessed, pounding into your body like it’s nothing more than a toy for his pleasure, filling your pussy to the limit with each stroke. The hand on your throat holds your body steady and he uses his other arm to lift one of your legs, then the other, your thighs pressed to his thick belly and your ankles by his ears. His moans mix with the lewd sound of skin against skin, a soundtrack of hedonism that you want to listen to on repeat until God calls you for judgment and sends you straight to Hell.

Your orgasm is quick to build, a pressure in your tummy that grows tighter and tighter until it bursts, all your muscles going taut with the force of it. Thomas roars, hands gripping your hips and holding you impaled on his cock as he floods your pussy with his release. You feel untethered, like you’re floating, and it’s not until you’re squinting into the Texas sun that you realize you are floating. Thomas is carrying you through the field, back to the main house, one arm supporting your back and other under your knees, holding you close to his chest.

Luda Mae is on the porch when he reaches the door, hands on her hips. He pauses and her keen gaze assesses you both. Finally, she smiles.

“Get yourselves cleaned up. Dinner is almost ready,” she says. 

Wordlessly, Thomas brings you inside and down to the basement, where does exactly as he’s told.

Just as he always does.

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider reblogging or leaving a comment.

Want more to read? Check out my masterlists.

[theereina]

Big Mama Pt. 5

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Plus Size Fem Black!OC

Wordcount: +7.4K 🤦🏽‍♀️

Warnings: MDNI (18+) mature content, such as cursing, teasing, heavily dialogue-centered, use of pet names (Daddy, Mama, lil' mama, pretty girl, good boy, etc.), angst, P in V, oral (female receiving), Dom!Terry, CNC (roleplay fantasy "r-word")

A/N: I don't know how many parts there will be. However, I'm open to critiques. I am a little 🤏🏽 sensitive about my writing. Please, don't be too harsh.🥺 Feel free to bring my attention to any typos. Divider by @firefly-graphics. Also, this work is not to be plagiarized or reposted (on any site other than here on Tumblr). I do NOT give consent for any form of republishing or rewriting.

Big Mama Pt. 1 => 🦋

Big Mama Pt. 2 => 🦋

Big Mama Pt. 3 => 🦋

Big Mama Pt. 4 => 🦋

6 months later ~ Halloween night

“Girl, why the fuck does this man have y'all stayin’ way the fuck out here?” Monica asked while driving. “That's the point. He knows I love the country. Plus, it so fuckin’ peaceful out here,” I said laughing. “’Vana, this is a serial killer's dream. Two black people in the middle of nowhere!” she blurted.

Tonight, we all went to a Halloween party as a group— Monica, Jordan, Terry, and I. The party was thrown at a warehouse downtown. It was fuckin' amazing. I had never had that much fun before. Terry even seemed to really enjoy himself, but he got sick at some point. He let me know that he was leaving early. I offered to go with him, but he declined. After he left, I tried my best to have fun but couldn't stop worrying about him. He wasn't answering my calls or texts which was strange.

I leaned over while sitting in the car. I unstrapped my heels and pulled them off. I was wearing a sexy schoolgirl costume that left nothing to the imagination. We agreed to dress up as a couple with Terry being a nerdy school professor. Our costumes made much more sense when we stood near each other, so I spent most of the night by his side.

Monica drove down the gravel driveway of the large farmhouse. Pulling to the front porch, I realized all the lights were off. It was eerily quiet— almost too quiet. Terry must have actually been sick if he had gone to bed this early. Monica's car came to a stop. She looked out into the field and stared at the barn. “This really is some serial killer type shit!” she said shaking her head. “Shut up!” I said laughing at her remarks. Monica was definitely on edge.

“I'm so done with you,” I said grabbing my heels before getting out of the car. “Just call me or text me. I wanna make sure you're safe. This shit so creepy,” she said scrunching up her nose and looking around. “Okay, scaredy cat,” I said leaning back into the window tickling her neck. “Terry is big and all, but not Texas Chainsaw Massacre big. Be safe!” she said. “Goodnight, whore!” I yelled as I turned and started walking towards the porch. I walked up the steps with the heels swinging in my hand. The front door was left unlocked because Terry had the only key. I opened the door and walked in.

I looked around the open living room in search of Terry. “Terry, baby? Where are you?” I yelled as I turned towards the hallway. Before I could move, I saw something flash across the large floor-to-ceiling window in the living room. I couldn't tell if it was a light or a reflection. I stood there for a second to see if it would happen again. Nothing. I shrugged my shoulders and proceeded to walk up the stairs. I was approaching the master bedroom door when I noticed a stain on the floor. It was a puddle of dark liquid. I couldn't tell what it was, but it smelled metallic. I leaned over in front of the door and hovered over the puddle. It looked like— blood.

I leaned up and quickly backed away from the door. I dropped the heels and held my chest. I turned back towards the stairs. I instantly wanted to flee but realized I didn't know where Terry was. “Terry, please. If this is a joke, this a fuckin' sick one!” I yelled from the top of the stairs. I turned back to look at the bedroom door. What if he was in there hurt? Shit!

I slowly walked back up to the door. I placed my hand on the doorknob and turned it slowly. I opened the door slightly peeking around. “Terry,” I said whispering into the room, “I don't like this.” I walked into the room, staying close to the door. I walked towards the center of the room facing the bed. The master bathroom door was cracked open with the light on. There was a smaller puddle at the bottom of this door. I wasn't liking this at all. My anxiety was pushing my heart through my chest. Every breath was feeling like swallowing razor blades. I inched closer to the door as panic was setting in. What if Terry was on the other side of this door? What if he was hurt, what if he was dead?

As I approached the door, I noticed faint marks leading from the puddle and into the bathroom— drag marks. No! I tried my hardest to level my breathing. I placed my hand on the door and pushed it open slowly. I opened the door to find blood splatter all over the bathroom and the tub covered in it. I almost screamed but covered my mouth. I started to back out of the bathroom. My foot stepped into the puddle by the bathroom door, soaking the bottom of my stockings. Tears were starting now.

As I lifted my foot to remove the stockings, there was a loud thud at the bedroom window. I didn't want to look out, but I had to know if it was Terry. I slowly crossed the room. The window had no blinds just a sheer white curtain. I pushed the curtain open lightly to peek but hopefully not be seen. I looked out towards the field at the rear of the house. That's when I saw him— a man. He was holding an axe over his shoulder. He looked like a lumberjack. THIS WASN'T TERRY! I stumbled away from the window unsure of what I just saw. There was no way this was happening. We didn't come way out here for this shit! I slowly leaned back towards the window to look again. This time I didn't touch the curtains.

He was still there, but his head was tilted up facing the window this time. The axe was resting by his side. He slowly raised the axe and slung it onto his shoulder. I could see there was something in his other hand. Before I could investigate further, he pointed towards the window. He could see me! He raised his hand above his hand and slung whatever was in his hand at the window. I ducked behind the wall. The object hit the window with a splat.

I eased away from the window to see blood splatter dripping down. I backed up towards the bed while still facing the window. Holding my chest, I tried to sort out what was going on. Then, I heard the sound of heavy boots thumping on the back porch. He was closer now. That's when I remembered the backdoor couldn't be locked from the inside. Terry had told me this earlier that day. But if the door couldn't be locked, he could just—. Before I could finish my thoughts, I heard the backdoor open and slam against the wall. The last place I wanted to be was in the room he last saw me in because this would be the first place he searched.

So, I slipped out of the bedroom door and hid in the guest room. I could hear his footsteps hitting the stairs as I closed the door. The closer he got; the louder it became. He paused at the top of the stairs. I heard his footsteps lead towards the room I left. While holding my breath, I heard him slowly open and close the door. I instantly began weighing out all my options. I could hide here like the typical dumbass— under the bed, in the closet, or behind a door. Or, I could sneak and hide somewhere else before he sees me.

Fuck it! I was trying my luck with the second option.

I stood near the door and slowly opened it. Peeking out into the empty hallway towards the other room, I turned around and tried to close the door slowly so it didn't creak. I turned back around and began tip-toeing towards the top of the stairs. Before I could get far, I noticed the bathroom door in the hallway open. I had this odd feeling that I was being watched. I didn't want to look, but I was too afraid to make any sudden movements. I pressed my back against the railing while closely watching the opening and the bedroom door of the room I left.

As soon as I reached the banister, I felt a presence behind me. I was right! He had never gone into the bedroom. He rushed from the open bathroom, coming straight towards me. He tossed the axe to the opposite hand with ease. The mask he wore covered his head entirely, so I couldn't see his hair, face, or eyes. I tried to run away from him, but he managed to grab the back of my top. I yanked away from him, causing it to rip. I stumbled down the stairs with him close behind me.

I knew better than to run out the backdoor. There was nothing but acres of open fields. The kitchen wasn't an option either as it was in the back of the home. I ran towards the front door, leaping off the porch. I sprinted for the barn across from the house. It was far, but I had a better chance of finding a weapon to use. The barn door was open. There wasn't an ounce of light inside. Fuck it! It was too late to turn back now. I ran into the barn and hid behind a mountain of hay.

He was cocky. He didn't even run after me; he casually walked. He treated this like it was an everyday encounter. There wasn't an ounce of worry in his demeanor. His shoulders were squared, and his stance was wide. He stood at the barn entrance, searching for any signs of where I went. He knew I was in here.

He rolled his shoulders and neck. He swung the axe back and forth at his side. He turned around, facing the barn door. He walked to the side and pulled the handle for the door. He slid it across the entrance. He was sealing me inside. There was nowhere to run, but the other door. It was closed, but I only needed an opportunity to run and enough gap to squeeze through.

Walking to the corner, he pulled a metal chain across the bar on the door and locked it. Now, I was LOCKED in. I had to get to that back door. I looked around me, but there was nothing. Had I really gotten locked in here with nothing to defend myself?

I eased along the slide of the bales, trying not to make a sound. I was short enough to stay concealed as I moved. I made it to the other end of the barn before he made another move. He was at one end and I was at the other. I realized that I could go for the door. It didn't look too heavy for me to pull.

All I had to do was get to the door, push it open enough to slip through and run. That's it.

I stood as close as I could to the wall. I took a silent deep breath. I peeked around to make sure he was still on the opposite side. I slipped past the hay and ran for the door. I could see him turn to face me. I grabbed the handle and pulled it as hard as I could. It wouldn't budge. I tried to push it again and again. Nothing.

I turned around to see him walking towards me. Oh no! That's when I heard it— the sound of a chain. This door was locked from the outside. There was no way I had just done this. I kept pulling at the door. I flattened my back against it, turning to face him. He wasn't moving any closer. He stood in the middle of the barn with the axe over his shoulder. I knew for a fact that I couldn't outrun him. So, what do I do?

“Please, just leave me alone. My boyfriend's here somewhere!” I yelled holding my arms in front of my stomach. He barked out the most sinister laugh I had ever heard, before stopping abruptly and going silent. “He's dead, you dumb bitch! You didn't get that from the mess upstairs!” he yelled. The world around me began to spin. He had said the quiet part out loud. Terry was dead, and I just didn't want to believe it. “What? I gotta show you his body for you to believe me?” he said walking closer. “No!” I yelled. “No!” he yelled mocking me, “You sound fuckin' pathetic.” I was crying even harder now. No amount of breathwork or grounding would save me from this. I was about to die, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. “So, is this the part where you run again, huh? Save yourself the trouble, pretty girl. Just come here!” he said pointing in front of him using the axe. “Fuck… fuck you!” I said crying.

His body stiffened immediately. His hand gripped the handle of the axe tighter. “I said to c’mere. Right the fuck now!” he barked. I stood where I was frozen in fear. “If I gotta come getchu or you make me chase you, so help me God!” he spat. I pushed away from the door while slowly walking towards him. I had to try something.

As I moved closer to him, I shifted my path to the side of him. I didn't want to get close to him, but did I have a choice? I stopped a few feet from him so I was out of reach. “You do know that if I swing this fuckin' axe I can still hit you?” he said frankly. I looked between us. He was telling the truth. I wasn't stopping shit. If he wanted to get me, he still could. “Come on, pretty girl. Help me, help you. Stand right here,” he said in a calmer tone.

I still didn't move— I couldn't. No matter what I did right now? I was going to die anyway.

I looked down at my feet. “Is it the axe, baby girl? Tell me,” he said tilting his head. I looked up at the axe and trailed my eyes up to his face. I could sense that he was staring at me. “Look at me, lil’ mama!” he snapped. He seemed agitated with my antics, but I didn't know what to do. He was tall and appeared muscular. My short thick ass couldn't outrun him or fight him.

He waved the axe around wildly, slinging it away. It soared through the air and landed on the barn’s upper level. “See. I'm nice,” he said raising his hands. They were empty, but I wasn't stupid. I knew a man like this didn't need weapons when his hands could do damage and kill.

I wasn't any less scared, but oh well. I walked towards him slowly, holding my breath. Once I was in arm's reach, he grabbed my shirt by the knot in the front. It tore in half. He yanked it from my body, exposing my black push-up bra. I threw my hands up to cover my chest. He smacked my hand down. “Move your fuckin' hands!” he yelled, raising his hand as if he were about to hit me again. “I fuckin' dare you!” he grunted through gritted teeth. I dropped my hands by my side, waiting for whatever was coming. Why wasn't he doing anything?

“What do you really want?” I asked. I was tired of this sicko's games. “Does it fuckin' matter? It's not like you got anywhere to go,” he said laughing. He was faking his composure. He wasn't calm at all. His hands were flexing and his shoulders were tensing up by the second. Why did I let Terry talk me into coming out here?

“Arghhh… If you don't fuckin' move!” he yelled. Fear took over, causing me to take a step back. “You know what fuck that?” he said pulling out a pair of leather gloves from his back pocket. He pulled them over his hands and wiggled his fingers. His hands filled the gloves perfectly. He closed the gap between us in two quick steps. His chest was right in front of my face.

I dropped my head. There was no point in running. “Just do it already!” I yelled hitting him in the chest repeatedly. He stood there and took every hit. His body didn't move an inch. Nothing I was doing was even affecting this man. Angered because I was tired of being toyed with, I pushed him in his chest. He shifted a little. I pushed him again. He shifted back a little more. Before I could push him a third time, he grabbed my hands. He held my hands above my head. “Stupid girl. Was that fun for you? Aww, you're fighting the big bad man. How cute?” he said mocking me.

He released my arms. I looked down and rubbed my wrists. I was caught off guard by his hand wrapping around my throat. He lifted my body from the ground and pushed me against one of the posts on the barn. “If you ever put your fuckin' hands on me again, I'll snap your fuckin' neck! Understand?” he grumbled. His teeth were grinding, and his grip was tightening. “Yes!” I managed to squeal out. “That's what the fuck I thought!” he yelled, releasing his grip.

My body hit the ground with a thud. I held my neck. I was sure there was a mark or a bruise. I was leaning over on one side. He squatted down so that he was right in front of me. Reaching to touch my face, he stroked my cheek and wiped my tears. “You're too pretty to be cryin’, girl,” he said tilting his head to one side. He was just hovering over me stroking my cheek. It was as if he was in a trance. I took in a deep breath. He let his hand roam my body. First, he groped my breast. Then, he caressed my stomach. This didn't feel right. Why was he all of a sudden being so gentle— too gentle?

His hand went lower and stopped at the top of my skirt. He looked back up at me while his hand moved down to my thighs. He pushed my skirt up and began dragging his hand along my thighs. “Damn, I know he’ll miss this,” he said moving his hand up towards my pussy. I clamped my thighs shut. No way was he about to touch me there. His face shot up in my direction. One of his hands shot up and slapped me across the face. “Don’t fuckin’ try me!” he said grabbing my chin. Even though I couldn’t see his eyes, I could tell his gaze was locked on my face.

While still gripping my chin and focusing on my face, his hand began moving again. His hand stalled and rested on top of my pussy. He hooked his pointer and index fingers around the crotch of my panties, tugging them a little. He tore them off my body, and I screamed as the fabric scratched against my skin.

I kicked him in the chest as hard as I could. He grabbed my ankle and yanked me towards him. I tried to find something to grab onto, failing miserably. My palms burned from being pulled through the dirt. “Stop, or else!” he screamed, holding my legs down. “Fuck you! If you're going to do it, do it! Bitch!” I yelled slapping him across the face.

I turned over onto my stomach and began attempting to crawl away. He grabbed the back of my legs, pulling me back towards him. I managed to snatch one leg away. He leaned forward and jumped onto my back. His hands flew to the back of my head, pulling my hair so my back was flush to his chest. “Yell! Scream! Go ahead! Nobody can hear you, dumbass!” he said in my ear, yanking my head up. “Let me go!” I screamed.

I couldn't keep fighting him. As much as I didn't want to admit it, I knew only one of us would walk away from this, and it wouldn't be me. “You don't like living do you?” he said pushing me to the ground. My face hit the dirt. A metallic taste flooded my mouth— blood. I lifted my hand and wiped my mouth. I turned over, sitting on my butt. I pushed on my hands to get up. “Sit!” he screamed, knocking me back. I was tired of this shit. I wanted no part of this stupid ass game he was playing.

I pulled my knees into my chest and began crying. “Hell, nah! Shut the fuck up! The fuck is cryin’ gonna do?” he asked while grabbing the back of my head. He used his grip on my hair to pull me down before straddling me. “You know what? Maybe I was wrong. I like the way you look when you cry. Soft. Sweet. Defenseless. Scared. Yeah, I think I like this,” he said cupping my left breast. His hand wandered to my left bra strap. He pushed it down slowly before doing the same to the other side. “Take it off slowly. No need to rush. We got all night,” he said low. I didn't move. What was the point of doing what he said? Prolonging my ending life seemed futile.

He reached behind him and pulled out a hunter's knife. I stared at the blade, tensing up. I placed my hands on his chest, trying to push him away. He grabbed my hands in one of his and held them above my head. He twirled the knife in his hand before pressing it into the front of my neck. The adrenaline in my body was pumping, and my ears were ringing. “Just do it!” I yelled, sobbing. His focus shifted back to my face. I could almost see his features spread into a smile through the mask. “Okay!” he said laughing. I felt the knife leave my skin. The presence of the blade still lingering behind.

With a heavy heart, I closed my eyes. I waited and waited. Every breath seemed to bring me closer to my last. I felt his grip on my hands tighten but still nothing. What was he doing? I wanted to close my eyes but was too afraid of what I might see.

I felt the knife glide across my stomach. I felt the blade rest on the fabric between my bra cups.

rip

He sliced through the front of my bra and began making quick work of the straps as well. I opened my eyes to see him peeling the pieces from my body. My exposed nipples hardened from the crispness of the Autumn air. He raised the knife to my chest, sliding it across my nipples. The cold blade stimulated the sensitive buds. I squirmed underneath him. This was feeling— I don't know. Was I enjoying this, or was my fear driving me insane?

I moved my hands and twisted my wrists. “No,” I whimpered. “No? You sure, pretty girl? I bet if I rubbed my hand through that pussy of yours, she'd be sayin' something else! Wouldn't she?” he said putting the knife back behind him. “Just…,” I said trying to tug away again. It must have annoyed him because it earned me another slap to the face. “Quit the bullshit, baby! Let's see!” he said, placing his hands on the button of my skirt. He unbuttoned and unzipped it quickly. While grabbing both sides of the zipper, he easily tore the mini skirt in half. “Clean! I like that. You came prepared for me, huh?” he said rubbing the mound of my pussy. The fabric of his leather gloves was like ice against my skin. He scooted back on his knees a little so that he was straddling my thighs more than my waist. He stuffed his hand between my legs, palming my pussy. He cupped his hand, trailing it through my folds. He dragged his hand up and down my slit, grazing my clt each time.

I was shocked by what I saw when he pulled his hand out. Cum! What the hell was going on? “Oh! That's lovely,” he said bringing the wet glove closer to his face mask. He drew in a deep breath. “Now, I might not be the smartest man but that looks like arousal to me. Don't it?” he said bringing the glove to my face. “ Yes… no… I don't fuckin' know!” I yelled. “You might wanna admit it, baby. You like this, huh? You dirty slut!” he said stuffing his fingers into my mouth. I gagged at the force.

“Don't say shit! Just suck!” he said, leaning over me. His face was right in front of mine. I could feel the warmth of his breath through the mask. I opened my mouth wider, telling myself to just do it. I sucked on the glove lightly. “You can do better than that! Come on! The better you perform; the longer you may live. Make me proud,” he said, leaning up.

I sucked on the glove again— a little harder this time. He let his finger roam inside my mouth. I let my tongue slither around each finger, causing his dick to jump. I felt it move against my thigh. I looked down to see a tent growing in his jeans. Shit, it was big! Oh, no. I couldn't be thinking like this. What would Terry think of me?

“Don't worry you'll see it soon!” he said drawing my attention back to him. I realized that I had been unconsciously sucking on his fingers. He pulled the glove from my mouth and smeared my saliva all over my face and lips. “Sloppy. I like it!” he said, lightly tapping my cheek. “Imma let yo’ hands go. Don't do no stupid shit, okay?” he said. I nodded my head yes. What the fuck could I possibly do in this situation?

He released my hands. I instantly pulled them to my chest and began rubbing my wrists. “I'm sowwy. I shouldn't have been so rough when you're so soft and…” he said trailing his hands down my chest to cup both of my breasts. The material of the gloves felt smooth against my nipples, causing me to let out a soft moan. He broke from his trance and focused on my face again. I know he heard it. Why was I moaning from this? What the hell was going on with my body?

“Listen to me. If you promise to be nice, I'll let you live. Who knows maybe you can be my sex slave or something!” he chuckled deeply. “As if I have a choice,” I whispered turning my head. “Well, you're right about that. Shall we begin?” he asked clapping his hands. “Begin?” I asked confused. All I could see was his facial features shift under his mask. He was smiling— no he was grinning. A big sinister grin was spread across his face. He was about to enjoy whatever came next.

He lifted his hips and repositioned himself between my legs. He grabbed the back of my knees and pushed them up to my chest using one hand. With the other, he undid his belt buckle and pants. He didn't even care to pull them down completely. I watched as he grabbed his dick at the base. I immediately knew where this was going. I tried to push my legs back down, but even when using one hand he was stronger than me. He leaned over me and slapped his dick on my clit. It was heavy and hard as a brick. “Remember what I said. The better you perform…,” he said letting his thoughts trail off.

In one quick thrust, he was inside me— deep. My arms flew up trying to push his chest. “Don't do that!” he cooed. “Behave. I promise to make it worth your while,” he lulled, dodging my hands. It was like he didn't give a fuck about me fighting back. He was too focused on—. “Fine. Have it your way!” he barked.

He grabbed my hands and pinned them above my head. With his teeth, he snatched the glove from his other hand. He threw it behind him. I could feel his dick twitching inside me. He grabbed my neck and began pounding into me. I gasped for air. How was he switching back and forth like that? He was nice one second, then aggressive the next. This man was a fuckin’ psychopath.

His hips snapped into my ass. “If you want me to stop, stop me!” he laughed. I knew I couldn't. I had tried and tried again. “Come on! Do something!” he yelled in my face. I was done. My blood boiled and fear went out the window for a second. “Fuck you! Kiss my fat black ass!” I yelled pushing my thighs down as hard as I could. He falls back onto his hands. I used this as an opportunity to scramble away. “Arghhh, you stupid bitch! Tell me what’re you gonna do? Huh? You can't run. You can't hide. No one can hear you!” he yelled waving his arms around. Again, he was right. What the fuck could I do?

I sat there for a minute with my back turned away from him. I was on my knees crying into my hands. Each sob racked through my body. An idea jumped into my head— this would either kill me or save me. I didn't know what to do, but I did know what I had to do. ONE FINAL TRY.

I turned on my knees to face him. “So, you're saying that… if I… if I let you do it, you'll let me live?” I asked gasping for air in between sobs. “I'm a man of my word, love,” he said sweetly. I covered my body, waiting for his next move. “Fine! Just do it,” I said getting on my hands and knees and slowly crawling toward him. I was a few feet from him when he told me to stop. I looked up to see him twirling his finger. “Turn around. You're pretty and all, but I'm sick of your face,” he spat with disgust. I turned around and sat on my knees.

He climbed behind me. His presence alone swallowed my frame. I was a big girl, but that meant nothing right now. He pushed me forward. “Ass up, face down. Don't make me repeat myself!” he yelled smacking my ass. He was sitting between my knees with his hands by his side. I got on all fours in front of him. I heard him scoff and grunt. “Fix ya’ arch. If I gotta fix it, you're not gonna like it. Let's go!” he yelled.

I arched my back and pushed my ass into the air. Without realizing how close I was, my ass grazed his dick. He growled in response. I looked over my shoulder at him. “What the fuck did I say? I don't wanna see ya’ face. Turn around!” he yelled popping my ass again. I screamed out in pain.

“Oh, shut up! It didn't hurt!” he said laughing at me. I started to sit up, but he pushed me back down. “What you movin’ for? I'm just kiddin’,” he said playfully. This man was confusing the hell out of me. How did he expect me to react? There was nothing funny about this. I moved away from his hand before he could react. “Alright, damn! I'm sorry. You know what? No, I'm not. I'm sick of your shit, you disrespectful bitch! I’ve tried being nice to you, but you don't seem to give a fuck. Why should I?” he snapped while grabbing my hair. His other hand forced my ass to meet his hips. “We're gonna learn that attitudes don't work around here!” he said thrusting back inside of me. I could feel the thickness of his dick inside me. It was clear that this was turning him on.

I felt his hand slide up my back to my shoulder. He was pulling me back on him now. He was pounding into me like I was a sex doll. I could feel my pussy beginning to ache already. As if he could sense my discomfort, he paused. Letting go over my hair and shoulder, he placed both hands beside me. He was on top of me now. Fuck! I needed to get on my back.

He began to grind his hips into me slowly. What was he doing? He leaned over so that his mouth was near my ear. The mask was warm from his breath. “Better?” he asked seductively while fucking into me. It was as if his voice had changed, and lust had taken over. It wasn't raspy anymore. It was deep and soft— smooth like velvet. “Answer me. Is this better?” he asked, pulling his dick out to the tip. “Yes,” I moaned out. It was like I couldn't control it. It was starting to feel good. “Yeah, that's what I wanna hear,” he said, pushing his dick back in. He was kissing my cervix and bottoming out with every stroke. He was honestly fucking so well. I hated this. I wasn't supposed to enjoy this, but I couldn't help it. His dick felt amazing inside me. Every stroke felt like— love. How?

“That's right. Take it. You got it,” he said. My eyes started to roll in the back of my head as I could feel his dick swelling inside me. He leaned back up and grabbed my hips. The movement of his hips was slow and—. “Ahh, shit! Wait!” I said putting my arms out to the side. I flattened my body against the ground. I was yearning for something to grab. My hands dug into the dirt of the barn floor.

“Come on. I'm so close, baby. Fuck!” he said quickening his pace. His hips were snapping into me at this point. I could feel the gentle caress of his balls slapping my clit. “This pussy is mine!” he groaned, fisting the hair at the back of my head. He pressed my head into the floor.

As his hips shifted to pound down into me, he brought one leg up so that he was kneeling. My pussy began to clench around his dick. I could feel my climax approaching. The wetness of my pussy was working against me. He was sliding in and out of me with ease. My pussy was begging for a release. I needed to cum so that I could come to my senses.

His dick was throbbing inside of me. Oh, he was close, and I wanted him to c—. No, I didn't want that. I didn't want him to do that— not inside me, but it was TOO LATE! His hips snapped into my ass with force. He grabbed my hips and pulled me onto him. He held me there, releasing every ounce of his nut inside of me.

“Ahhh, fuck! That pussy was nice. Can I keep you?” he asked letting go of me. I let my body collapse onto the ground. “One more,” I said turning to face him. “What?” he asked confused. “I didn't finish. I wanna cum,” I said pouting. I needed him to trust me because I needed this plan to work. “Can't get enough, huh?” he said, pushing me on my back. I let my legs fall open so that he could see just how wet my pussy was. I needed him to lose focus.

“Oh, you nasty slut. You like this shit! Don't you?” he asked, slapping his dick on my clit. He rubbed his dick through the mixture of our cum that was spilling out of me. He sat his dick at my entrance. “Beg, bitch! You want it so bad. Beg for this dick!” he growled, holding his dick at the base. Pride was out the door at this point. There was no turning back. “Please, I need it. Make me cum. That's all I want. Just make me cum. You..,” I said but before I could finish he forced his dick inside of me. “Ahhh!” I said moaning out.

As much as I wanted to hate this, it felt so good. His dick was hitting every spot and scratching every itch. My pussy was creaming around him, and I was leaking like a faucet. He leaned over me, placing his hands on both sides of my head. I could hear our hips slamming into each other. I rubbed my hand up his chest. I grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him closer. I could feel every breath he took on my face.

He threw his head back in bliss. I was chasing two dragons at once— an orgasm and the key to my freedom. I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him in deeper. I could feel my orgasm approaching. “I'm about to nut!” I yelled, gripping the back of his head. I placed my head on his shoulder. I could see it. IT WAS RIGHT THERE! I let my orgasm take over and began clenching and unclenching my walls to push him into his. His strokes got sloppy, and his hips stiffened. He dropped his head on my shoulder, letting his weight fall onto me. This was it— my only chance.

I slid one of my hands down his back while keeping the other pressed to the back of his head. “Stay in me, please,” I begged. I didn't need him to move. As my hand got closer to his waistband, I felt it— the knife! I gripped the handle and pulled it from his waistband. I pulled my legs under me so that they were pressed against his chest and kicked him as hard as I could. Knife in hand, I jumped on him before he could react. Pressing the knife against his throat, I began to speak. “Tell me why I shouldn't?” I yelled. “Because…,” he said, struggling to find an answer. “Take off the mask!” I demanded. “What?” he asked. “You heard me! Bitch!” I yelled back, pressing the knife deeper into his neck. I could feel his heart racing. Wasn't shit funny to him now. “Aight, damn!” he yelled while slowly removing the mask. His hands tossed the mask away from us.

What a sight?! I leaned in closer, turning the blade on its side. “Any last words?!” I snarled. He lay there quietly. “None. Fine with me!” I said, fisting the knife. “I just hope you know how special you are, Mama. Oh, and my girlfriend gone kick yo’ ass!” he screamed.

“Terry!” I said pouting. He grabbed my face and pulled me in for a kiss. “All you had to do was keep acting scared. Dammit!” I said pushing away from him. I was straddling his waist with my arms folded across my chest going into full brat mode. “I'm sorry! You said the code word for ending the scene, Mama. How was I supposed to know you wanted to keep going?” he asked grabbing my chin. “You ruined the fun,” I said dropping my arms. “Did I though?” he asked taking one of my nipples into his mouth. “You still got one more in you?” he asked, releasing my nipple from his mouth. “How the fuck am I supposed to say no?” I asked leaning in to kiss him and dropping the knife.

He placed his arm around my waist and lifted my hips. He reached his hand between us, guiding his dick inside me. “Ouu, shit!” I moaned into his mouth. “Come on, Mama. You got it. Make Daddy proud!” he said smiling. I pushed him back onto the ground. “Here comes, Big Mama!” I yelled, giggling. I hopped onto my feet and started bouncing on his dick. My hips smashed down into his. I leaned over and began kissing his neck. “Let me have it, Mama. Let's go!” he yelled, smacking my ass. Terry let out the sweetest moan as his head dropped back. His eyes rolled into the back of his head.

Fuck, I couldn't help myself. Look at him. Eyes rolling. Toes curling. Moaning to the gods. Yeah, I did that! Me!

“You like that? Huh?” I asked, placing my hand on Terry's neck. I pressed down on the front of his throat. Terry's eyes shot open and his hand reached for mine. “Don't you fuckin' dare!” I said, slowing down my hips and gripping his dick with every grind. “Fuck!” Terry said letting his hands fall. “Nah, look at me. Ain't that what you said?” I taunted while gripping his neck even tighter. “Ahh, fuck. I love you!” he screamed out. “Yeah, I wanna hear that shit. Eyes on me!” I said, mocking him. His eyes opened slowly as his breathing became ragged. I could feel his heart racing under the palm of my hand. I held the grip on his neck with the other.

The sound of my ass colliding with his hips echoed through the barn. “Give me it, Daddy!” I said, releasing his neck. I sat up straight and began to ride Terry like the stallion he is. “Ahh, that's… oh, fuck! Here it comes!” Terry said, grabbing my hips and holding me in place. His hips froze as he squeezed my waist. I felt every drop of his cum paint the inside of my walls. I giggled into my hand and said, “Oh, I'm not done!”

Terry's face was overcome with shock. “You heard me,” I said, rocking my hips. “Fuck it. It's all you, Mama,” he said, collapsing backward. “Oh, I know!” I said cockily. That's when I noticed Terry was smirking. “You just don't know when to stop, huh?” he said grabbing my hips and lifting me off of him. He pushed my body over his chest so that my pussy was directly over his mouth. His tongue immediately found my clit. I was definitely about to cum from this. His mouth covered the sensitive bud as he sucked.

I felt his hands rubbing and squeezing my ass. I fell forward and began grinding against his face. I felt Terry's lips curl into a smile. “I'm about to cum,” I announced loudly. Terry popped my ass and held me down, encouraging me. His tongue slithered along my entrance. He was missing it on purpose, teasing me. I whined like a bitch. Moans were leaving my mouth repeatedly. His tongue finally found its way into my pussy. I clenched as I felt my orgasm approaching. “Ah, fuck!” I yelled, leaning up and straddling Terry's face. He removed his tongue and began sucking on my clit again. That's what did it. I came all over Terry. “Ugh… mmm. Fuck, Daddy!” I moaned through my orgasm. I could hear him laugh from underneath me. “Damn you!” I yelled, climbing off of Terry's face. “I love you, too. Mean ass!” he said. “I guess I love you,” I said, laughing while leaning over to kiss Terry’s lips.

Taglist: @brattyfics @avoidthings @cocooned-butterfly @5headsupremacist @creartivefairy @miyuhpapayuh @megamindsecretlair @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @nayaxwrites @jimmybutlrr @lovey-3 @curvyambitions @deja-r @hoouno06 @insidefeelingofanadult @slutsareteacherstoo @ariiijestertheklown

@armandosbabymama @gg-trini @skyesthebomb @blowmymbackout @blackerthings @mymindisneverhere @iburias @androgynousgaz @becauseimswagman1 @geee3bayyybeee3 @gwenda-fav @poektiou624 @keyaho

@pocketsizedpanther @sageispunk @charismablu @4ftwonder @ineedmyaccountback @rebelrel0987 @4pfsukuna @writingsbytee @nayaesworld

@blyffe @helloncrocs @amyhennessyhouse @beenathembo @thiccc-c @babybratzmaraj @pinkpantheris

@qtmkenedy03 @honeytoffee @talkswithdesi

[sea-lanterns]

TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE

synopsis: (slasher! AU) getting chased by a chainsaw-wielding murderer goes…horribly right?

featuring: beidou

rating: 18+ smut (men and minors dni)

warnings: sub! afab fem reader, violence, mentions of gore, blood, brief mention of vomiting, strap on, penetration, squirting, size difference, blo.wjob, choking, prey and predator kink, pet names (beidou calls you her little lamb), chasing, sharp things near areas they shouldn’t be, se.x in a barn, cursing.

art credits: chainsaw man

Holding your breath as best as you could, you heard the whirring of a chainsaw close by and prayed to whatever higher entity above that you would get out safe. What first started out as an innocent vacation with your friends, suddenly turned into a bloody chainsaw massacre, as the farmhouse near your vacation home had the most insane serial killer you’ve ever bore to witness.

From what you saw before your friends’ early demise, was a tall, muscular woman wearing a leather mask that mimicked human skin. It made you sick to your stomach, right before she sliced open one of your friends and left blood splattering everywhere. Traumatized was an understatement, you were left standing there in shock before forcing your legs to move and start running. You’ve seen enough horror movies to know you should run now and get therapy later, not too keen on getting sliced to ribbons like your other unfortunate friends…

The leather-masked woman slowly looked up. Her one eye gazing at you through her mask as blood slowly dripped from her strong, bloodied hands. The further you ran away, the longer she stared, suddenly no longer chasing you as she turned the chainsaw off. 

You didn’t notice, of course. After all, you were too busy running for your life to see the way she licked her lips underneath the mask, pulling it off to take a breather and smirk at the way your cute little legs ran off to your car. She chuckled to herself, kicking aside one of the corpses of your friends and slowly stalking her way towards your path, humming to herself as she wondered how long it would take for you to notice that she slashed your tires with her chainsaw.

It didn’t take you long to notice, however; as the moment you ran to your car, you noticed the cut up marks on your tires and mentally cursed yourself with your luck. “Well fuck me with a chainsaw…” you groaned, before hearing the whirring of a chainsaw in the distance. “Wait, bad choice of words—”

As the chainsaw wielding woman tore down some shrubbery with her blade, she smirked and waved at you mockingly, almost flirtatiously with the way she flexed a bicep through the thin cotton flannel of her shirt. ‘So cute…’ Beidou couldn’t help but think as you stood there dumbfounded like a baby deer, wondering all the sweet little sounds she could get out of you once she got you all alone. 

“Ah shit…” you quickly recollected your nerves and started running in another direction, remembering that you spotted a truck near the barn that you could hopefully hotwire once you got there. 

As you ran, Beidou just chuckled when you took off in the direction of her old family’s barn, rubbing her calloused fingers against her forehead to wipe the sticky sweat off her skin. “So much work for one little lamb…” she sighs, eying the way your legs ran halfway across the field. Call her perverted if you will, but the woman couldn’t help but envision your legs wrapped so prettily around her neck while she eats you out. The soft flesh of your thighs just begging to be held down by her hands…

“Fuck…” Beidou was getting hot and bothered just thinking about it, groaning before slowly moving her way towards the direction where you ran. She was taking her sweet time in chasing you down, as she figured a girl as cute as you wouldn’t be so hard to hunt. 

Through hard, heavy footsteps, Beidou watched from afar as you tried hotwiring the truck outside her barn, chuckling to herself as she wondered how long it would take for you to realize there was no gas.

“Oh Goddammit!”

Apparently it took you two seconds. 

Beidou had to keep herself from smiling as she watched you frantically run into the barn to search for a gas canister. You were so cute in the way you panicked so frantically, darting this way and that like a little rabbit running in circles. 

Oh, right. Beidou had to chase you, not admire you. 

She let out a sigh and slowly entered the barn as quietly as she could, watching as you searched high and low for a gas canister, (or at least something that would protect you) in a barn full of hot air and hay. She watched you search through the barn and folded her muscular arms together in amusement, leaning against the doorframe with her chainsaw off and settled by her hip. ‘Poor little thing has no idea I’m right here…’ Beidou smirks to herself, almost tempted to tap her finger against your shoulder and scoop you up in her big, bulky arms.

Beidou drew closer, shadow slowly looming over your smaller figure and making you shiver as you start to notice the darkening light. Your blood ran cold, body tensing as you realized that Beidou was currently standing right behind you. “The little lamb has wandered out of her pen…” you hear her mumble huskily, pushing against the trigger of the chainsaw to give you a threateningly loud whirl. “I need to bring her back.” 

“A-Ah…” your throat went dry and you almost stopped breathing the moment you heard the chainsaw behind you. Not daring to look back, as you knew that if you did, you’d get a face full of spinning blades and blood. 

“…Hm.” Beidou chewed her lip at the sight of you still facing the wall, placing a rough hand on your shoulder and letting go of the chainsaw. “That’s not good. I want to see my pretty lamb’s face…”

She reached over to gently cup your cheeks and slowly bring your body over to her. Compared to you, she was absolutely massive. A tall, muscular, and broad-shouldered woman who looked like she could crush your skull with just one squeeze, towering over you like a bear leering down at its next fallen prey…

“…I know begging rarely works but please don’t kill me.” You say under a trembling breath, locking eyes with the mysterious killer behind the leather mask. “I— I won’t tell anyone anything, I swear. Hell, I sincerely apologize for my friends who trespassed on your property. Haha…ha…”

Beidou smirked at the way you shuddered under her grasp, like a little leaf that was quivering in the wind. She wondered if you could take what she had in store for you, or if your poor little body would crumble to dust with how she was going to manhandle you. 

“Shhhh…” you were caught off guard when the woman suddenly began petting your head, treating you like some sort of shelter pet. “Don’t move.”

Well, you weren’t planning to, and with the way she was still holding that chainsaw made you obey every command she gave. Beidou was pleased to see your compliance, pressing a thumb against your bottom lip before leaning closer to murmur in your ear. “Are you scared?” She asks breathlessly, chuckling at the shiver you gave her from her voice. 

“…A little.” You reply quieter. 

“A little?” Beidou repeats, smiling a little and reaching up to pull off her mask. “What about now?” 

Your eyes widened as you locked eyes with a roguishly handsome woman. She was missing an eye, had her face scarred with multiple scars, yet you could tell even from a glance that she was extremely handsome despite being a killer. 

“…Uhm.”

Your cheeks burned hot for a moment before you quickly snapped out of it. Even if she was hot, she was still insane…!

“Uhm…?” Beidou edged on, giving you a toothy grin as she leans against a wooden post. “Didn’t expect a face like this, huh?” 

You didn’t know how to respond to that. I mean, how could you when your killer was literally flirting with you after just chasing you with a chainsaw. You weren’t sure if she was trying to trick you by seducing you, or if she was genuinely flirting. Either way, you were still a bit terrified. 

“…Dammit. I didn’t mean to scare ya’ that badly.” She sighs, moving closer until you are practically backed up into the wall. “I just wanted to see your pretty face screaming…”

“You killed my friends!” You suddenly exclaimed, before covering your mouth in shock.

“I did, didn’t I.” Beidou chuckles, gently moving her chainsaw against your thigh, cooing at the way you froze. “Well, your friends should know better than to trespass on my property anyways. It was very rude of them to enter my family home without permission.” 

“That—” your breath hitches as the metal blades of the chainsaw gently graze your inner thigh. The chainsaw was off, luckily; but you could feel the severity of the situation as Beidou could turn the chainsaw on at any moment. “…That doesn’t give you the right to slaughter my…my…”

Images of your friends being sliced to pieces replayed in your head. You wanted to vomit, feeling a hot billow rise in your throat and threaten to spill over. You turned to your side and suddenly hurled the contents of your stomach on the ground, Beidou not looking surprised as she reached over to rub a comforting hand on your back. 

“…That was a lot, lamb.” Beidou hums, pushing a lock of hair over your ear. “But let it all out. It’s okay…”

“You’re a sicko.” You couldn’t help but cough, a wave of fatigue crashing over your body as all that running and trauma finally caught up with you. “Dammit…fuck…”

You were sweating from both the hot barn and the aftereffects of vomiting, looking delirious before suddenly losing your balance.

“Oh...” Beidou moved forward to catch you from your fall and prop you against her muscular body. “I guess a small fry like you would fall eventually. You should drink some water.”

“What…” you looked more confused than anything, unable to keep your head up as you rested it against her chest. It didn’t make sense to you as to why the killer was being so nice, yet your body was too exhausted to fight back after running and screaming so much. 

As you felt your body slowly slip into unconsciousness, you felt the killer wrap her arms around you and enclose your frame with her taller body. You’ve never felt so warm (and terrified) in all your life, yet she seemed to be gentle with you as she stroked her hand over your head. “Shhhh…you’re so sweet compared to them.” Beidou cooed, some of the blood on her shirt rubbing on your face. “I don’t understand how such a sweet little lamb like you would be hanging out with such jerks…”

‘They were still my friends…’ you wanted to say, but fatigue kept you from saying any more. Instead, you just breathed heavily and tried to move away, only for your thigh to accidentally brush against something firm and hard.

“Fuck.” You heard Beidou curse in front of you, a sly grin crossing her face. “Feel that? Ever touched something like that before, little lamb?”

You let out a surprised yelp when you felt it, confused as to what you just touched. 

“Ever heard of a strap on?” Beidou chuckled, reaching a hand down to slowly unzip her trousers. “It’s what I was planning to use on you if you agreed…”

Your eyes widened as she slowly revealed a large, silicone dildo. You had no idea she was packing such a thing while chasing you, but just looking at the size of it had you unexpectedly aching in the heat of your core. “You…I…” You sputtered out as her words finally caught up with you. She wanted to use this on you? She wanted to fuck you?!

“You’re beaming, little lamb.” Beidou grins, giving her shaft a few playful strokes. “Are you turned on? Just moments ago you were cursing me out for being a sicko…”

“You still are!” You exclaimed back, yet you couldn’t tear your eyes away from how she was pumping the base of her cock. “I just…ugh…” your delirium wasn’t helping either as another wave of heat coursed through your body, Beidou  staring at you with an arrogant grin before tilting your chin up to look at her. 

“I have a proposition for you,” she speaks in a low, husky groan. “Let me have my way with you, and I’ll let you go. Or I'll let you go right now, but chase you to get my high…”

As if to emphasize her point, she gave the trigger of the chainsaw a small squeeze, causing it to whir to life for a split second. Upon hearing the loud roar of the chainsaw again, you tended up and shook your head no, clearly frightened for your life.

“By…letting you have your way, you mean…”

Beidou smirked, moving closer to murmur in your ear. 

“I want to fuck you, little lamb.”

The way she whispered it had your nerves sparking with tension. Eyes flickering down to her strap, back to her face, and back to her strap again. “If I let you fuck me…will you really let me go?” You ask in a smaller voice, tempted by the offer of such an easy way out.

“I promise, my princess.” She hums, though that dark glint in her eye says otherwise. “Just let me reach one high with you, you’re too pretty not to lust over…” She exhales breathlessly before leaning down to whisper in your ear. “Do I have your consent, my little lamb…?”

As her hot breath tickled your ear, you chewed your bottom lip before contemplating your options. “…Only because I want to be let go…” you say shakily, closing your eyes so you wouldn’t have to see Beidou’s reaction. 

“Oh, I know,” you hear her chuckle, before a large hand pushes your head down to kneel against the hardwood of the barn floor. “But first, I need you to lube my dick with your throat. A pretty girl like you needs some assistance if she’s gonna take something this big.”

When you open your eyes you’re met with the fat tip of her silicone cock. The color a nude shade that matched the skin tone of Beidou herself, as well as a fake vein that ran from the base of the shaft all the way to the tip. “Suck it off, pretty girl.” Beidou chuckles, pushing you closer so that your lips brushed against the head. “The better you wet it, the easier it’ll slip in.” 

Obediently, you parted your lips to take the head into your mouth, stretching your jaw to accommodate the wide girth and slowly bob your head down to suck. 

“…God.” Beidou groans as she stares down at you, her one good eye glazing over with lust as she watches you suck her off. “That’s a pretty sight…”

She pushes you down a bit deeper and watches as you almost gag from the size. Beidou was one to always pick toys on the larger side of things, so it was no surprise to see you struggling to take her length inside your mouth. 

“Gh-Ghhck—” you choked a little and accidentally let some drool leak past the corners of your lips, Beidou moving a finger down to wipe some of the drool away and pat your head. “Easy there, girl…” she hushes, gently pulling you back so you could pant for air. “Don’t want you suffocating, that should be enough for me.”

Strands of your saliva stuck to the toy as you gasped for air, Beidou stroking your spit all over her cock before hoisting you up to stand. “Shorts off, I promise to go slow…” In quick motions, you begin unzipping your shorts to slide them off, Beidou not wasting another second as she quickly moves in to scoop you up into her arms and pin you against the wall.

“H-Holy shit—” you instinctively cling to her broad shoulders and wrap your legs around her waist. “Don’t drop me—!”

“I won’t drop you, little lamb,” Beidou chuckles, trailing a thumb down to your bottoms and rubbing circles against the soft fabric. “I’d never drop someone as sweet as you…” 

You felt a jolt of electricity when you felt her thumb rubbing circles against your clit. Although still clothed, you could feel how hot and big her fingers were as they toyed with your pussy from above your underwear. You couldn’t help but imagine her stuffing each one of her fingers deep inside you, the image making you wet as she continued playing with you to get you ready. 

“My, you’re getting wet already…” the woman chuckles heavily, sliding your panties aside so you could feel her large fingers prodding at your hole. “Practically drooling for my cock to be shoved right in…”

She groans and continues massaging your folds until she feels you dripping over her fingers and down her arm. Once she’s sure you’re ready, she grips the shaft of her strap and angles it so that the tip pushes against your hole.

“Ready?” She purrs roughly, teasing your entrance with her head.

“Mhm…” you didn’t want to let her know how much you were craving it, so you bit your lip and hoped for the best. 

“Alright.” Beidou groans, steadying her hips before slowly sinking you down on her cock. “Oh…shit.” She husks, feeling your walls part for the intrusion and swallow her whole. You squirm for a bit as you feel the mushroom tip spear through your folds, stretching you out to your limit due to how thick the strap was. 

“Ah…hah…” you took deep, steady breaths as Beidou slowly eased her way inside of you, the smooth, slightly textured edges of the cock massaging your innards before you finally met her at the hilt. 

“Oh…the little lamb is quite tight I see…” Beidou grins, feeling a little resistance before sliding out. “Let me fix that for you.”

Without warning, she begins moving her hips a little more and has you bouncing in her arms with small, wet, thrusts. She was holding you with just her strength alone, as she thrusted her shaft further into you and had you whimpering as she went. 

“Is it deep enough for you, my lamb?” Beidou hums slowly, keeping up the rhythm while sliding her hands down to hold you by the rear. “I knew you’d be addicted to the size…”

She punctuates the end of each sentence with a sharper thrust, pounding away while she holds your legs up and grinded you against the wall. Though the dick she was wearing was not a real one, Beidou could feel every push and pressure against the harness while you grind your hips against the belt, making the woman grunt with pleasure.

“Just earlier I had you screaming, eh?” She laughs hoarsely, squeezing your ass with her hands before making you spread your legs wider. “I’ll have you screaming even more now… Screaming until your throat is torn and your cunt is filled to the brim.”

You moaned as she spoke such filthy words into your ears. She was fucking you so good that you were almost forgetting she was a masked killer who slaughtered all your friend, making you squirm with ecstasy and whine.

“Oh? Is the lamb whining for more?” The killer laughs, slamming her hips even harder against yours and making you scream with bliss. Nails gripping onto the blood-stained fabric of her shirt and trying to stabilize yourself from falling over in pleasure.

“T-Too…too much…” you whimper out into her ear, close to sobbing as you bury your face into her shoulder.

“Too much?” She mocks with an arrogant grin. “No baby, it’s perfect.”

She practically growls the word into your ear and raises your hips all the way up until just the tip was left inside. Once she feels you shiver under her hold, she braces you for impact before slamming you down roughly. Over, and over, and over again.

With each rough slap, it wasn’t long until you felt your insides tighten like a screw, before suddenly letting loose and squirting all over her strap, eyes rolled back in ecstasy.

“Oh…baby…” Beidou grunts, gazing at the way your cum dripped out of your hole and down her shaft. “That’s a sight…”

She senses your overcoming exhaustion and lays you down against her chest. Large hands coming up to hold your back as she kisses the top of your head. “I take it back, I don’t want to let you go,” Beidou murmurs softly, petting your head like you were an innocent farm animal she wanted to take in. “I’m going to keep you here and let you join the family, you’d be such a good wife for me after all, hm?”

She chuckles at the way your eyes flutter shut, fatigue taking over your body as you pass out in her arms. 

“Rest well, my little lamb…”

That was the last thing you heard before you blacked out.

[mtmpossession]

A New Perspective: Part I

The sun had just set over the horizon, casting a warm glow across the rolling hills of the family farm in Texas. Douglas, a sturdy man in his early fifties, stood outside the old barn, gazing out at the fields with a mixture of pride and weariness. He was a homespun man, with a short beard that highlighted the strength of his jawline. His broad shoulders were testament to a lifetime of hard work, both as a fire protection specialist and as a farmer.

Joseph, on the other hand, was a young man in his late twenties, with an athletic build and lean muscles that were honed from years of working out and modeling. He was dressed impeccably in a crisp white shirt and dark jeans, his brown hair styled to perfection. His stubble, however, betrayed the fact that he hadn't shaved in a few days. Joseph was an adventurer, always eager to explore the world and experience new things. He was bisexual, something he had confessed to his father years ago, which had only served to further strain their already tenuous relationship.

As Joseph stepped out of the car and approached his father, he couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness. They had barely spoken in over a year, and now they were meeting under such tense circumstances. Douglas's disapproval of Joseph's lifestyle choice, coupled with his father's insistence that he abandon his modeling career and join the family business, had only served to drive them further apart.

Douglas, on the other hand, was filled with a mixture of anger and disappointment. He loved his son dearly, but he couldn't help but feel that Joseph was wasting his life chasing after meaningless fame and fortune. He wanted Joseph to embrace their family's blue-collar roots and work alongside him at the fire protection business and on the farm.

"Hello, Joseph," Douglas said, his tone formal and distant. "It's good to see you again."

"Likewise, Dad," Joseph replied, his voice equally guarded. He couldn't help but feel a twinge of hurt as he looked at his father. The last time they had seen each other, they had argued heatedly about Joseph's life choices. He wished things could be different, but it seemed like their relationship was beyond repair.

The two men stood in an awkward silence, neither knowing what to say. The tension was palpable. Douglas cleared his throat and glanced at his watch. "Well, I should get started on dinner," he said finally. "Why don't you come inside and help me?"

Joseph hesitated, uncertain whether his father meant it as an invitation to mend fences or just a request for assistance. After a moment's consideration, he decided to accept the offer. "Sure," he said, following his father into the house. The kitchen was warm and welcoming, with a large wooden table and cozy decorations that spoke of years of family gatherings.

As they worked side by side, chopping vegetables and seasoning meat, the silence between them seemed less oppressive. Douglas glanced at his son out of the corner of his eye, noticing the way he moved with confidence and ease. It was hard for Douglas to believe that this was the same boy who had once been so uncertain of himself. He couldn't help but feel a twinge of pride, despite the tension that still lingered between them.

Meanwhile, Joseph found himself thinking about the years they had spent apart. He remembered the days when they would work together on the farm, laughing and sharing stories. He wondered if they could ever find a way back to that place of mutual understanding and respect.

As they ate their dinner, they continued to engage in small talk, discussing the latest sports news and local politics. It was a far cry from their previous arguments about Joseph's career choices, and Douglas found himself enjoying the easy banter between them. He couldn't help but notice how well his son looked, dressed in his crisp white shirt and jeans. There was a confidence about him that hadn't been there before.

Joseph, too, was relieved to be able to talk about something other than the elephant in the room. He had missed his father's company and the sense of belonging that came with being part of this family. He knew that they had differences, but he hoped that they could find some common ground.

As the evening wore on, however, their conversation began to take a familiar turn. Douglas started to question Joseph's choices once again, and Joseph found himself growing defensive. Before they knew it, they were once again arguing heatedly. "You never understood me, Dad," Joseph exclaimed, his voice rising. "You just want me to be this version of yourself, but I'm not you!"

Douglas's face flushed with anger. "Of course I understand you, Joseph! I just want you to have a stable future, one that doesn't involve chasing after fleeting fame and fortune!" he retorted. "You could be doing so much more with your life than strutting around in front of cameras!"

Joseph felt a stab of pain as his father spoke. He knew that Douglas meant well, but he couldn't help feeling like he was being suffocated by his father's expectations. "You don't get it, Dad," he said, his voice trembling. "I'm not you. I don't want your life. I want my own."

Douglas looked away, unable to meet his son's eyes. He knew that he had been harsh, but he couldn't help feeling a desperate need to protect Joseph from what he saw as a reckless path. He wished he could understand why Joseph was so determined to pursue a career in modeling, when there were so many other options available to him.

Joseph retreated to his room, feeling a familiar mix of anger, frustration, and sadness. He knew that he and his father had always been different, but he had hoped that they could find some common ground. Instead, they seemed to be further apart than ever. He tossed and turned in bed, unable to sleep, his mind filled with thoughts of his father and their strained relationship.

Douglas, too, lay awake, staring up at the ceiling. He couldn't shake the image of Joseph's face as he had argued with him. He knew that he had been harsh, but he couldn't help feeling a desperate need to protect his son from what he saw as a reckless path. He wished he could understand why Joseph was so determined to pursue a career in modeling, when there were so many other options available to him.

As the hours ticked by, Douglas found himself growing more and more restless. He couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to step into Joseph's shoes, even for just a day. To experience the world through his son's eyes, to understand the motivations that drove him. Perhaps then, he thought, he could find a way to bridge the gap between them.

Joseph, on the other hand, spent the remainder of the night tossing and turning in bed. He couldn't shake the image of his father's disappointment and the weight of their strained relationship. He felt as though they were speaking two different languages. Perhaps if he could understand where his father was coming from, they could find a way to reach a common ground.

After they fall asleep, a sudden thunder storm arises. Lightning flashes across the sky, illuminating the room in brief flashes of blue and white. The wind howls, battering the windows and causing the house to creak and groan. In the midst of the storm, there is a strange, inexplicable feeling in the air. As if the universe itself is conspiring to bring about a change.

The next morning, Joseph awakens with a start. He feels... different. His body is heavier, his movements slower. As he sits up in bed, he realizes with a jolt that he is no longer in his own body. He is in his father's body!

Douglas, too, wakes up with a start. He feels... light, almost ethereal. His movements are quick and graceful. As he swings his legs over the side of the bed, he realizes with a gasp that he is not in his own body. He is in Joseph's body!

He rushes over to the mirror, hardly able to believe what he sees. The face that stares back at him is not his own. It is young, vibrant, and unmistakably his son's. He touches his cheek, feeling the smoothness of his skin, and then runs his fingers through his silky hair. This is a dream, he tells himself, but it feels so real.

As he steps out of his room, he sees Joseph standing in the hallway, looking equally confused. His father's body feels strange, yet familiar. He tries to speak, but no words come out. He gestures for his father to follow him, and they proceed to the kitchen.

To be continued...

[morbidology]

This photograph depicts the last moments of 14-year-old Regina Walters, before she was killed by serial killer, Robert Ben Rhoades, who preyed on young women in America in the late 1980s and early 1990s.

Regina Walters was a teenager from Pasadena, Texas, who disappeared in February 1990. She had run away from home with her boyfriend, Ricky Lee Jones, hoping for a new life away from the challenges of adolescence. The two embarked on what they likely thought would be an adventure, hitchhiking their way across the country. Tragically, their journey was cut short when they encountered Robert Ben Rhoades, a long-haul trucker with a penchant for violence and cruelty.

Rhoades, who would later be dubbed "The Truck Stop Killer," was a predator who used his job as a truck driver to hunt for victims along the highways of the United States. He had outfitted his truck with a "torture chamber" in the sleeper cab, where he would imprison and torture his victims before ultimately murdering them. Regina and Ricky Lee Jones became two of the many victims in his gruesome spree.

Rhoades abducted the young couple in Texas, killing Ricky almost immediately and disposing of his body, which was later discovered in Mississippi. Regina, however, was not granted a quick death. Instead, she was subjected to Rhoades' depraved cruelty, held captive in his truck for an extended period.

The photograph of Regina Walters, taken by Rhoades, serves as a grim document of her final days. In it, her fear is palpable, and the bleak surroundings underscore the hopelessness of her situation. Rhoades had forced her into the black dress and heels, mocking her helplessness as he snapped the photo in an abandoned barn in Illinois, where he would eventually end her life.

Regina’s body was discovered in September 1990, months after her disappearance, near a desolate rural road in Illinois. Her remains were so decomposed that identification was initially difficult. However, the discovery of the photograph in Rhoades' possession, along with other evidence, eventually led to the confirmation of her identity.

Rhoades' capture in April 1990 came about by chance when an Arizona state trooper pulled him over for a routine traffic stop. The officer discovered a terrified and chained woman in the back of Rhoades' truck, leading to his arrest. Further investigation revealed the true extent of his crimes, and authorities linked him to multiple murders across several states.

Rhoades was eventually convicted of three murders, including that of Regina Walters, but it is widely believed that he was responsible for many more deaths. He was sentenced to life in prison without the possibility of parole.

[satorulovebot]

CIGARETTES AND WHISKY | WELCOME TO LONE STAR RANCH. (1)

↳ satoru gojou x suguru getou x reader

genre. angst, fluff, modern au, cowboys, 18+ 

tags/warnings. drug use (smoking), profanity

notes. 6.8k wc. please enjoy this mini-series my brain cooked up while I was thinking about this choices story I read and horseland, yes the show from 20 years ago. highly recommend. yes, this is stereotypical and takes place in texas (unfortunately). don't smoke kiddos. geto is here too btw.

series masterlist -> chapter two

The Texas sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden glow over the sprawling landscape that seemed to stretch on for miles. The drive had been long, winding through open country and passing tall grass swaying in the light breeze. 

A sense of relief washed over you as the GPS announced your arrival. The place you were going to was around two and a half hours from Houston, in the middle of nowhere, with a small town thirty minutes away. As your car rolled to a stop at the entrance, you could hear the gravel crunch beneath the tires. In front of you stood a large archway made of weathered wood. The old archway had the words "Lone Star Ranch," painted in a dark blue that had faded over time. Beneath the arch, a long driveway stretched out before you that led to the heart of the ranch.

You rested your hands on the steering wheel and sat for a moment, deciding to take in the sight before you. The ranch was beautiful. Beyond the driveway you could see there were rolling hills dotted with cattle and trees that stretched into the distance. You thought the air here felt different—cleaner, somehow.

Taking a deep breath, you turned off the engine, allowing the sounds of the countryside to embrace you. The only sounds you could hear were the distant mooing of cattle and the faint chirping of birds. It was a far cry from the noisy city you had left behind not long ago. Truth be told, you were looking for a place to start over, and you thought this was the solution.

As you stepped out of the car, a realization dawned upon you: you had never lived on a ranch before, worked with animals, or dealt with the physical labor that ranch life demanded. You had briefly ridden horses when you were younger but that was… how many years ago? Over eighteen years ago? You were a city person through and through, and you were going to have to learn to live in the countryside.

The sun was warm against your skin as you stretched, trying to shake off the stiffness from the long drive. You walked around to the back of the car, popping the trunk and pulling out your bags. The sound of your shoes crunching against the gravel was the only noise that filled the air. You were truly out in the middle of nowhere, with nothing but the ranch and its inhabitants for miles.

You slung a bag over your shoulder and turned around to take in the ranch. To your left was a large, two-story ranch house that overlooked the property. You could tell it was older, similar to the sign out front. The house had a wide front porch that wrapped around the entire house, supported by thick wooden beams. Further down the driveway, you could see several barns and stables; the red paint was faded and chipped, but it was well-maintained.

Just as you were about to close the trunk, a sound from off in the distance caught your attention. It was faint at first, but it grew louder with each passing second—a steady, rhythmic beat that seemed to echo across the open land. Curious, you turned toward the sound, squinting against the sun that hung low on the horizon.

That’s when you saw him.

A man on horseback was riding toward you. The horse's powerful legs were kicking up small clouds of dust with each stride. The man atop the horse sat tall in the saddle, his posture relaxed. As he drew closer, you could make out more details—his broad shoulders, his tanned skin that seemed to gleam in the sunlight, his unruly white hair, and the cowboy hat that shielded his eyes from the sun's glare.

He was shirtless, his torso exposed to the sun, revealing a well-defined physique. It was the kind of body that came from years of hard work and physical labor. A pair of worn jeans hung low on his hips, held up by a thick leather belt with a silver buckle that gleamed in the sunlight.

There was something magnetic about him as if there was something that demanded attention and respect. He oozed confidence, the kind that came from knowing exactly who you were and who you had the potential to be. As he approached where you were standing, he slowed the horse to a stop, his head tilted slightly as he judged you from beneath his hat.

“Well, well,” he drawled, his voice was smooth and carried a hint of amusement. “What do we have here?”

For a moment, you were at a loss for words, caught off guard by the almost lazy way he spoke. Though his voice was warm, like honey on a hot summer day.

“I’m here for the job,” you managed to say. “Is this Lone Star Ranch?”

A slow smile spread across his lips, and he leaned forward slightly, resting his forearm on the saddle horn as he looked you up and down. “Sure is,” he replied. “And you must be our new guest.”

The way he said “guest” made you feel like there was more to it than just a simple word. His voice was familiar, as if he already knew more about you than you were comfortable with. But before you could dwell on it, he continued, his smile widening.

“Name’s Satoru Gojo,” he said, swinging a leg over the horse and dismounting effortlessly. He landed lightly on his feet, standing a good head taller than you. “Owner of this fine establishment.”

You nodded, trying to ignore the way your heart was pounding in your chest. “Nice to meet you. I’m—”

“Hold that thought,” he interrupted, holding up a hand. “No need for introductions just yet. We’ll have plenty of time for that later.”

He took a step closer to you, and you took a step back. You could see the details you had missed before: the way his muscles moved with each step, the slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, and how he seemed to enjoy your discomfort.

“Don’t look so tense,” he said, his tone light and teasing as he reached out and gave your shoulder a gentle pat. “I don’t bite. Not unless you ask nicely.”

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard by his words, and felt embarrassment creeping up your neck. This wasn’t exactly how you’d imagined your first meeting would go. You opened your mouth to respond, but the words seemed to get stuck in your throat.

Gojou seemed to sense your discomfort because he took a step back, giving you some space. “Relax, I’m just messing with you,” he said as his smile softened. “Welcome to Lone Star Ranch. You’re gonna love it here, I promise.”

“Thanks,” you managed to say. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“Good to hear,” he said, turning to gesture toward the ranch house in the distance. “Why don’t you grab your stuff, and I’ll show you to your room? We’ll get you settled in, and then I’ll introduce you to the rest of the crew.”

You hesitated for a moment, then nodded, moving to the trunk of your car and pulling out your bags. As you did, you couldn’t help but steal another glance at Gojou, who had turned his attention back to his horse, murmuring something to the animal as he stroked its mane.

There was no denying that he was attractive in a rugged sort of way.

As you slung your bags over your shoulder, you turned back to Gojou, who was now waiting for you. “Ready?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Ready,” you replied, following him as he led the way toward the ranch house, your heart still pounding in your chest.

The walk to the ranch house was longer than you expected, giving you time to take in the surroundings. The ranch was even larger up close, with open spaces that seemed to go on forever. Gojou walked a few paces ahead of you, his long strides making it hard for you to keep up with him.

As the two of you got closer to the ranch, you could see the details that had been too far away to notice before. The wood on the house was old but well cared for, the front porch had rows of flowers along the trim of the railing, and a few rocking chairs that looked very inviting.

Gojou reached the front steps and turned to look at you. “So,” he said, resting a hand on the railing as he waited for you to catch up, “what brings you out here? Most people don’t come to Lone Star Ranch unless they’ve got a good reason.”

You hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal to the man you had just met not even ten minutes ago. Your past was something you’d hoped to leave behind, but it seemed that even out here, in the middle of nowhere, you couldn’t escape it. You forced a smile, hoping to deflect the question. “Just needed a change of scenery,” you said, your tone casual. “Figured this was as good a place as any.”

Gojou raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced by your answer, but he didn’t press you about it. Instead, he gave a small nod, as if accepting your response for now. “Well, you’ve definitely found a change of scenery,” he said, pushing open the front door and holding it open for you. “Come on in. I’ll show you around.”

When you stepped inside, you were immediately hit by the cool air and the smell of wood and leather. The interior of the house was just as rustic as the exterior, with hardwood floors, ceiling beams, and walls filled with old photographs. The furniture was a mix of older pieces that looked like they’d been there for years and newer additions that added a touch of modern comfort. It was the kind of place that felt lived in, like a home that had been passed down through generations.

Gojou led you through the house, pointing out the various rooms as you went. The kitchen was spacious, with a large wooden table in the center and windows that overlooked the back of the ranch. The living room was cozy, with a stone fireplace and shelves lined with books and trinkets. You passed by several other rooms—an office, a dining room, and what looked like a mudroom near the back door—before finally reaching a staircase that led to the second floor.

“Your room’s upstairs,” Gojou said, gesturing for you to follow him. “It’s nothing fancy, but it’s comfortable enough. You’ll have plenty of privacy up there.”

You nodded, following him up the stairs, the wooden steps creaking softly under your weight. The second floor was just as charming as the first, with a long hallway that led to several bedrooms. Gojou stopped in front of one of the doors, pushing it open to reveal a small but cozy room. The bed was made up with a simple quilt, and a large window let in plenty of natural light. A dresser and a small desk completed the space, and there was a door on the far side that you assumed led to a closet.

“This is you,” Gojou said, stepping aside to let you enter. “Like I said, it’s not much, but it should suit your needs. There’s an attached bathroom too, so you won’t have to worry about sharing.”

“Thank you, it’s perfect.”

He gave you that easy smile again, leaning against the doorframe as he watched you. “Glad you think so. I’ll let you get settled in, and then we can go over the details of your job. There’s a lot to do around here, but I’m sure you’ll catch on quickly.”

As Gojou turned to leave, he paused in the doorway, glancing back at you. “Oh, and one more thing,” his tone more serious now. “This place… it’s special. The people, the land, everything about it. We take care of our own here, but that means we expect you to do the same. Understand?”

You met his gaze, understanding the weight of his words. This wasn’t just a job—it was a community, a way of life that you were being invited into. You nodded, “I understand.”

He studied you for a moment longer, then nodded, satisfied with your answer. “Good. I’ll see you downstairs when you’re ready.”

With that, he left, closing the door behind him and leaving you alone in your new room. You stood there for a moment, taking in the silence, the sense of stillness that seemed to permeate the air. This was it—the start of your new life, far away from everything you’d known before.

You walked over to the window, looking out at the view of the ranch below. The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm, golden light over the land, painting the sky in shades of pink and orange. The sight was breathtaking, and for the first time in a long while, you felt a sense of peace.

The night passed fairly quickly, though your sleep was interrupted by the sounds of the night—the creak of the old house settling, the distant howls of coyotes, and the occasional rustle of the wind against the windows. Despite the disturbances, you woke up bright and early, got dressed, and headed downstairs.

As you made your way to the kitchen, the smell of freshly brewed coffee greeted you like a warm hug. As you sipped your coffee, you couldn’t help but glance around the kitchen. It was spacious, with wooden cabinets, a large farmhouse sink, and a sturdy wooden table in the center. The walls were full of old photographs of the ranch in its earlier days, groups of cowboys standing proudly next to their horses. It was clear that the ranch had a history deeply intertwined with the land and the people who had worked it.

You were halfway through drinking your coffee when the back door creaked open, and a figure stepped into the kitchen. You turned to see a man about your age, tall and lean with dark hair that was pulled back into a bun. He was dressed in work clothes—a faded denim shirt and worn jeans, with a pair of sturdy boots that had seen better days. His expression was calm as he glanced at you with dark eyes.

“You must be the new hire,” he said, his voice low and even, with a slight drawl that was less pronounced than Gojou’s. “I’m Suguru Getou, the ranch hand. Gojou probably mentioned me.”

You nodded, feeling a little awkward under his gaze. “He did. It’s nice to meet you.”

Getou gave you a small nod and moved past you to pour himself a cup of coffee. He didn’t say anything else, and you took the opportunity to study him. You noticed the way he moved, his mannerisms, and his calloused hands from years of labor. There was something about him, a seriousness that contrasted with Gojou’s easygoing nature.

“You up for a tour?” Getou asked, breaking the silence as he turned to lean against the counter. “Might as well show you the ropes before Gojou starts piling on the work.”

You nodded, and without another word, he led you out of the kitchen and into the cool morning air. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting long shadows across the ranch. You followed Getou down the porch steps and onto the gravel path that led toward the barns, the sound of your footsteps mingling with the distant lowing of cattle and the soft noise of horses.

As you walked, Getou pointed out the various buildings and areas of the ranch, his explanations brief but informative. He showed you the stables, where the horses were kept, the barns where the cattle feed and equipment were stored, and the paddocks where the horses were turned out to graze.

“This here’s the main barn,” he said, stopping in front of a large structure. “You’ll spend a lot of time here, mucking stalls, feeding the horses, and helping with whatever else needs doing. It’s hard work, but it’s honest, and you’ll learn a lot if you’re willing to put in the effort.”

You nodded, looking around the barn. Its large wooden doors were open to reveal rows of stalls, each one occupied by a horse. Getou turned to you and gestured for you to follow him. He led you inside, and as you walked down the aisle, you couldn’t help but admire their sleek coats in the morning sunlight. They were beautiful creatures, each one unique in color and stature, their eyes calm and intelligent as they watched you pass. You could tell they were well cared for, their stalls clean and their coats brushed to a shine.

“Over here’s the tack room,” Getou continued, opening a door to reveal a small room lined with saddles, bridles, and other riding gear. “Everything you need for riding and working with the horses is in here. Make sure you put things back where you found them—Satoru’s pretty particular about that.”

You smiled at the thought of Gojou being particular about anything, but you nodded, committing the layout to memory. Getou didn’t seem to notice your amusement.

As Getou walked you through the basics, you noticed how he handled the horses with care and precision. He showed you how to properly secure a saddle, making sure it was snug but not too tight. He showed you how to brush down a horse after a ride, explaining that it was just as important as the ride itself—“Keeps ’em happy and healthy,” he said with a small smile.

He led you back out into the barn, where a few of the other ranch hands had already started their morning chores. They greeted Getou with nods and brief exchanges and you couldn’t help but feel a little out of place because you were a newcomer in a tightly-knit community.

"By the way," he added with a casual wave of his hand, "the blonde one is Nanami, the guy with the pink hair is Sukuna, and the one with the black hair is Toji. You'll see a woman with brown hair—her name is Shoko." He paused, then continued, "We've also got some youngsters around the farm. You'll run into them—Ino, Nobara, Megumi, Yuuji, Yuuta, Maki, and Mai. They're a lively fuckin' bunch."

As the morning went on, Getou continued to walk you through the basics of ranch work—mucking out stalls, feeding the horses, and preparing saddles for the day’s rides. The work was hard, the kind that left you sweaty and sore, but there was a sense of accomplishment that came from seeing the results of your effort.

Getou was a patient man, while he didn’t coddle you, he wasn’t harsh either, simply showing you what needed to be done and trusting you to do it. You appreciated his straightforward approach, and by the time the sun was high in the sky, you felt like you were beginning to get the hang of things.

It was late morning when Gojou finally made his appearance, strolling into the barn with his usual carefree attitude. He was dressed more appropriately today, though his shirt was unbuttoned halfway, exposing the tanned skin of his chest. He greeted Getou with a grin and a slap on the back.

“Well, look at you, already hard at work,” Gojou said, his tone light and teasing as he approached you. “I was half expecting you to be scared shitless, hiding in the house, hoping no one would notice.”

You rolled your eyes, wiping the sweat from your brow with the back of your hand. “Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not afraid of a little hard work.”

Gojou laughed, clearly pleased by your response. “That’s what I like to hear. Keep that attitude, and you’ll do just fine around here.”

“How’s the newbie doing?” Gojou asked, leaning against the stall door.

“Not bad,” Getou replied. “She’s picking things up pretty quick.”

“Good, good,” Gojou said with a nod, turning back to you. “You keep up the good work, and we might just make a ranch hand out of you yet.”

The rest of the day passed in a blur, with Gojou and Getou both showing you the ropes and making sure you were settling in. By the time the sun began to set, you were exhausted, every muscle in your body aching from the day.

As you sat on the porch steps that evening and watched the sun dip below the horizon, you couldn’t help but feel that the ranch was starting to feel like home. For the first time in a long while, you felt like you were exactly where you were supposed to be.

Later that evening, after dinner—a simple but hearty meal prepared by one of the other ranch hands, Sukuna—you found yourself alone in the barn, finishing up some of the chores that had been left for the end of the day. The barn was quiet now, the horses settled in their stalls, the air cool and tinged with the scent of hay and leather.

You were brushing down one of the horses, a gentle mare with a soft brown coat, when you heard footsteps coming from behind you. You turned to see Getou standing in the doorway.

“Didn’t expect to find you here this late,” he said, walking over to the stall where you were working. “Most folks would’ve called it a day by now.”

You shrugged, focusing on your work. “Just wanted to make sure everything was done. Didn’t want to leave anything unfinished.”

Getou watched you for a moment. “You don’t have to prove anything, you know,” he said quietly. “No one’s expecting you to do more than your share.”

You paused, looking up at him. There was something in his tone that made you feel like he understood more than he was letting on, like he knew what it was like to have something to prove.

“I know,” you said softly. “But I want to.”

Getou nodded, seeming to accept your answer. He leaned against the stall door, watching as you finished brushing down the mare. The silence between you was comfortable this time, the kind that didn’t need to be filled with words.

When you finally put the brush away and closed the stall door, Getou straightened up. “Come on,” he said, gesturing toward the barn entrance. “It’s getting late. You’ll need your rest if you want to keep up tomorrow.”

You followed him out of the barn, the cool night air wrapped around you like a blanket. The stars were just beginning to appear in the sky, their light faint but steady.

As the two of you walked back toward the house, you felt as if there was a silent understanding between you both. He might not be the most talkative person, but you found yourself drawn to him.

By the time you reached the house, you were both silent, each lost in your thoughts. Getou paused at the bottom of the porch steps, turning to look at you.

“Good work today,” he said simply.

“Thanks,” you replied, feeling a warmth in your chest at his words. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

He nodded, and with that, he turned and walked away, disappearing into the shadows of the night. You watched him go, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

The next morning, you were up before dawn, the quiet stillness of the ranch interrupted only by the distant crowing of a rooster and the soft chirping of early birds. The house was still shrouded in darkness as you moved through the hallway, careful not to wake anyone. You found yourself in the kitchen once again, savoring the quiet before the day began.

The previous day had been overwhelming, but you were eager to prove that you could handle the challenges of ranch life. The soreness in your muscles was a reminder of the hard work ahead, but it was also a testament to your determination to make this new life work.

You were just finishing your coffee when you heard the sound of boots on the porch. You turned, half-expecting to see Getou or one of the other ranch hands, but instead, the door swung open to reveal Gojou, his signature smirk already in place. He was dressed casually, a worn-out pair of jeans slung low on his hips and a white shirt.

“Mornin’,” he drawled, his blue eyes sparkling as he made his way into the kitchen. “You’re up early. Couldn’t sleep, or just eager to start another day of hard labor?”

“A little of both,” you admitted, setting your empty mug in the sink. “I wanted to get a head start.”

Gojou chuckled. “That’s the spirit! We like a bit of enthusiasm around here.” He leaned casually against the counter, crossing his arms as he studied you. “Though I gotta say, you might want to pace yourself. Ranch work isn’t a sprint; it’s a marathon. You'll burn out too quickly, and then you’ll be no good to anyone.”

You nodded, appreciating the advice. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Gojou pushed himself off the counter and stretched, his shirt riding up just enough to reveal his toned abs and a light trail of hair. “Good. Now, how about we get out there and see what kind of trouble we can stir up?”

You couldn’t help but smile at his infectious energy, even if you knew it would likely lead to him teasing you all day. Together, you left the kitchen and stepped out into the cool morning air, the sun still on the horizon.

As you walked down the porch steps and headed toward the barn, Gojou kept up a steady stream of conversation. He asked you about your first day, your impressions of the ranch, and how you were adjusting. It was clear that, beneath his carefree exterior, he genuinely cared about how you were settling in.

“I have to admit,” Gojou said as you reached the barn, “I wasn’t sure how you’d handle all this. Not everyone’s cut out for ranch life, especially not city folk. But you’ve got grit, I’ll give you that.”

“Thanks, I’m not afraid of a little hard work.”

“Good thing, too,” he said with a wink. “Because today, we’re going to see what you’re really made of.”

Inside the barn, the familiar scent of hay and horses greeted you, along with the soft sounds of animals moving around in their stalls. A few of the ranch hands, Nanami and Toji, were already at work, moving like people who had done this countless times before. They greeted you and Gojou with nods and brief smiles before returning to their tasks.

Gojou led you to the tack room, where he grabbed a saddle and a bridle, handing them to you with a grin. “Today, we’re going to get you up on a horse and see how you do. Ever ridden before?”

“A little,” you admitted, recalling the few times you’d been on a horse as a kid. “But it’s been a while.”

“No worries,” Gojou said, clapping you on the back. “I’ll make sure you’re in good hands. Or hooves, as it were.”

You followed him out to the paddock, where a few horses were grazing in the early morning light. The sight of them, their sleek coats glistening in the sun, was breathtaking. You could feel a sense of awe and respect for these powerful creatures, their size and strength a reminder of just how different ranch life was from anything you’d known before.

Gojou led one of the horses over to you. She was a chestnut mare with a white line down her face.

“This is Maple,” Gojou said, patting the mare’s neck affectionately. “She’s one of the gentlest horses we’ve got, perfect for someone who’s still finding their feet. She’ll take good care of you.”

You reached out to stroke Maple’s nose, feeling the soft warmth of her breath against your hand. The horse nickered softly, her large, intelligent eyes watching you with a calm curiosity.

“Go ahead and saddle her up,” Gojou instructed, stepping back to give you space. “I’ll be right here if you need any help.”

You took a deep breath, focusing on the task at hand. The saddle felt heavier than you remembered, the leather creaking as you lifted it onto Maple’s back. You fumbled a bit with the cinch, your fingers clumsy as you tried to remember the steps, but Gojou was patient, offering guidance without stepping in unless you needed it.

Once Maple was saddled, you took a moment to adjust the stirrups and make sure everything was secure. It was a small accomplishment, but it was significant to you, and you couldn’t help but smile as you led Maple out into the open paddock.

“Not bad,” Gojou remarked. “You’re a quick learner.”

“Thanks,” you replied, trying to hide the flush that crept up your cheeks.

“Now, let’s see you get up there,” Gojou said, gesturing toward the horse.

You took another deep breath, then placed your foot in the stirrup and swung yourself up into the saddle. The motion was a bit awkward, but you managed it without too much trouble. Once you were seated, you adjusted your position, gripping the reins loosely as you tried to find your balance.

Maple stood patiently beneath you, her ears flicking back as if she could sense your nervousness. But her calm demeanor helped to steady your nerves, and you took a moment to relax into the saddle, letting the rhythm of her breathing guide you.

“Remember, don’t pull too hard on the reins,” Gojou advised, leaning against the fence as he watched you. “Just gentle pressure—she’ll respond to even the slightest touch.”

You nodded, taking his advice to heart as you gave Maple a light nudge with your heels. The mare started forward with a smooth, easy gait, her movements fluid and controlled. You could feel the power in her legs as she moved.

Gojou walked alongside you as you guided Maple around the paddock. His presence was reassuring. He offered tips as you went, his voice calm and steady. You learned you really liked it. It wasn’t long before you began to feel more comfortable in the saddle, the initial awkwardness fading as you found your rhythm.

“See? You’ve got this,” Gojou said with a grin, watching as you guided Maple through a series of gentle turns. “It’s all about finding that connection with the horse, trusting each other. Once you’ve got that, the rest is easy.”

But just as you were starting to relax, Maple’s ears suddenly flicked up, her head lifting as she sensed something. You followed her gaze and saw a figure standing by the fence—a man with a rugged appearance and a steely gaze that sent a shiver down your spine.

It was the same man you’d seen the day before, watching you with a look that was hard to decipher. His presence was unsettling, a stark contrast to the easy camaraderie you’d shared with Gojou. There was something about him that put you on edge, a coldness in his eyes that seemed to pierce right through you.

Gojou noticed your reaction and followed your gaze, his expression darkening slightly as he saw the man. “Don’t mind him,” He said dismissively. “That’s just one of the neighbors. He’s always hanging around, looking for something to complain about.”

Eventually, the man turned and walked away, disappearing into the distance. You breathed a sigh of relief, feeling the tension in your shoulders ease as you continued your ride.

After your riding lesson, Gojou led you through more of the daily tasks—mucking stalls, feeding the horses, and helping maintain the ranch.

The sun had begun its slow descent, painting the Lone Star Ranch in hues of amber and gold. The warmth of the day lingered in the air, wrapping everything in a soft, golden light. As you walked alongside Gojou back to the house, you felt a deep sense of contentment.

The silence between you was comfortable only interrupted by the soft rustling of leaves in the breeze and the distant sounds of ranch animals preparing for the night. It was a moment that felt suspended in time.

When you reached the porch, Gojou paused and turned to you, a playful glint in his eyes. “How about we enjoy the sunset?” he suggested, gesturing to a pair of weathered leather chairs positioned perfectly to face the horizon.

You nodded as you settled into one of the chairs, you felt the worn leather conform to your body. The view from the porch was breathtaking—the sky was full of oranges, pinks, and purples, with the setting sun casting long, soft shadows across the ranch.

Gojou took the seat beside you, leaning back into the soft leather. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small tin, the metallic surface catching the last rays of sunlight. With a flick of his wrist, he opened it, revealing a pack of cigarettes nestled inside.

He glanced over at you. “Do you mind?” he asked, though his tone suggested he was more interested in your reaction than in seeking actual permission.

You shook your head, watching curiously as he took a cigarette from the pack and brought it to his lips. He then pulled out a decorated lighter, the flame illuminating his face for a moment before he lit the cigarette, and inhaled deeply.

The first plumes of smoke curled upward, drifting lazily into the evening air. Gojou exhaled slowly, the smoke forming delicate spirals before dissipating into the breeze. There was something almost hypnotic about the way he smoked, each motion was as if he were savoring not just the cigarette but the moment itself.

It was kind of hot.

Gojou took another drag, his eyes half-closed as he exhaled slowly, the smoke blending with the soft colors of the sunset.

“You know,” he began, “there’s something about this time of day that makes everything feel... clearer. Like all the noise from the day just fades away.”

You nodded, understanding exactly what he meant. “It’s peaceful,” you replied, your voice soft. “It’s like the world slows down for a while.”

Gojou glanced at you, his eyes catching the light in a way that made them appear even more blue, more intense. “Exactly. It’s a good time to just... be. No expectations, no pressure.”

He took another slow drag from the cigarette, the end glowing a bright orange before he exhaled again, this time blowing the smoke out in a thin, steady stream. The smoke seemed to hang in the air between you, creating a veil that blurred the lines between the two of you, making the moment feel even more intimate.

“You ever smoke?” Gojou asked, breaking the silence.

“Not really,” you admitted, your gaze still fixed on the way the smoke curled in the air. “Never saw the appeal.”

“Shit, you’re missing out, sweetheart,” Gojou said with a playful grin. “You’re finally getting a taste of what ranch life is all about."

Gojou chuckled softly, “But yeah, it’s not for everyone. But sometimes it’s more about the ritual than anything else. It’s a way to take a step back, to slow down and just... breathe.”

There was something soothing about the way he described it, and you found yourself nodding in agreement. “I can see that.”

Gojou turned to face you. “Wanna try?”

You hesitated for a moment, but the curiosity got the better of you. “Sure,” you said, accepting the cigarette he offered with a reluctant smile.

The last thing you thought he would do was pull the cigarette he was smoking out of his mouth and hand it to you. But you took it anyway.

As your fingers brushed against his, you felt a spark of warmth that sent a shiver up your spine. Gojou’s gaze lingered on you as you brought the cigarette to your lips, his eyes were filled with something that you couldn’t quite place.

You took a small drag, the smoke was harsh on your throat at first, but you quickly adjusted, mimicking the way Gojou had exhaled. The smoke tasted bitter, but there was something oddly intimate about sharing a cigarette. It was something grounding in the way it forced you to focus on each breath.

“Not bad,” He remarked, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You’re a natural.”

You laughed softly, the sound blending with the rustling of the leaves in the breeze. “I wouldn’t go that far, but thanks.”

Gojou leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving yours as he took another drag. The air between you seemed to thicken with every passing second.

As you passed the cigarette back to him, your fingers brushed against his again, and this time the two of you lingered. Gojou didn’t pull away, his touch firm yet gentle, as if he were testing the boundaries between you. The moment stretched out, filled with an unspoken question, one that neither of you seemed ready to answer just yet.

The sun dipped lower on the horizon, casting the last rays of golden light over the ranch. The sky had deepened to a rich indigo, with stars beginning to twinkle faintly above. The temperature dropped slightly, the coolness of the evening air brushing against your skin.

Gojou took another long drag from the cigarette, his eyes half-lidded as he exhaled slowly, watching the smoke drift into the night. His gaze turned back to you, “You’re different from what I expected,” he said, his voice low. “Stronger.”

His words took you by surprise, and you felt a flush of warmth spread through you. “Thanks,” you replied softly, not entirely sure how to respond.

Gojou’s smile was faint but genuine as he took one last drag from the cigarette before extinguishing it in the ashtray beside him. “Most people don’t last long out here. They get scared off by the work, and the isolation... But you? You’re tougher than you look.”

You’d spent so much of your life running from your past, trying to prove to yourself that you could handle whatever came your way, and hearing those words from Gojou, of all people, felt like a validation you hadn’t realized you needed.

“You’re not what I expected either,” you admitted, meeting his gaze. “You’re... different.”

He chuckled softly, the sound warm and rich in the cool evening air. “Good different, I hope.”

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah. Good different.”

“You know, Gojou, you’re not as bad as I thought you would be.”

He arched an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You shook your head, a faint smile playing at your lips. “I mean, I had this whole idea of you being a bit of a troublemaker. Turns out, you’re just a guy who knows how to unwind.”

Gojou chuckled, “And here I was thinking you’d have too much of a stick up your ass to appreciate a good smoke.”

“Guess I’m full of surprises,” you replied, your tone light.

“By the way, you can call me Satoru.”

"Satoru..." You tested his name on your tongue, “Well, Satoru, thanks for sharing your cigarette with me. It’s nice to have a moment like this, away from all the chaos.”

Satoru’s smile softened, his eyes meeting yours. “Anytime. And if you ever need a break or just someone to talk to, you know where to find me.”

As the last light faded from the sky, Satoru stood up and stretched. “It’s getting late,” he said, his voice a little softer now. “We should head inside.”

You nodded, though part of you wasn’t quite ready for the evening to end. The house, with its inviting atmosphere, felt like a refuge from the outside world, out here, in the open air, with the stars overhead and the smell of tobacco lingering.

Satoru extended a hand, his calloused fingers warm against yours. Together, you walked back toward the house, the evening’s cool breeze brushing against your skin.

Inside, the warmth of the house enveloped you, and the scent of wood and earth filled your senses. The memories of the day—Satoru teaching you how to ride a horse, the two of you sharing a cigarette and watching the sun setting over the ranch played through your mind.

Satoru paused at the foot of the stairs, turning to you with a soft smile. “Goodnight Y/N,” he said, his voice low.

“Goodnight,” you replied his gaze linger on you as you made your way upstairs.

You settled into bed with the comforting sounds of the ranch lulling you to sleep, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were exactly where you were meant to be.

And just before you drifted off, the image of Satoru—cigarette in hand and eyes full of mischief—lingered in your mind.

Maybe this was where you were meant to be.

series masterlist -> chapter 2

© satorulovebot 2024 please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my work.

[magnolia-among-the-stars]

the last bit of us (chapter four)

Plot: Tyler Owens hasn’t been home in a year. He’s survived all the storm chasing and motel living with his new partners as they try to save lives. But with all the damage they’ve taken from driving high beams first into monster storms, it’s time to pay the piper and bring the truck in for repairs. And the only person who can fix them is the best mechanical engineer he’s ever met. Eleanor Harding, his estranged wife.

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Estranged Wife OC (Harding Daughter)

Word Count: 1.3k (little shorter today)

Playlist Song: texas by jesse murph ft. marren morris

Guest appearance this chapter from a certain person :)

prologue / one / two / three / four

Tyler stays in the truck while I pop inside the small town pharmacy to get my dad’s medication. Jeffry, the pharmacist, smiles sadly at me while passing over the paper bag. He slips a chocolate bar inside with a wink before passing me the receipt. I’m grateful. My stomach feels hollow and grumbling as I realize how long it’s been since I last ate something.

When I get back into the truck, Tyler is on the phone. His voice is low, rumbling and his face is turned away under the light of the street lamps. “Nothing? At all?” he asks without looking at me.

My phone buzzes. It’s a text from my mom. Doctors want to keep him one more night, we’ll be home tomorrow. Go get some sleep xx

“Well, there must be something. How many people are really staying there? Honestly,” Tyler huffs. “…Hold on.”

I look back up at him, raising a brow. We shake a look and I pull my seatbelt on. “What?” I bite.

He licks his bottom lip and pulls his phone away from his cheek. His eyes are soft. I hate him. “Boone said that they can’t find anywhere to stay for the night.”

“There’s two Hiltons in town,” I reply, shrugging.

“They’re too expensive for three rooms,” he says. I look away, out the window at the McDonalds across the street. I’m starving.

“If you are trying to ask something, can you just spit it out?” I ask. When I turn back to him, he’s holding his breath. “What?”

“I’d like them to stay at the house.”

“What house?” I lean back, tilting my head at the question.

“Our house,” he says, his tone confused.

“Our. House.” He can’t be serious. And yet as time passes, the amusement seems to seep out of the truck. “You mean my house.”

“Eleanor, I don’t want to do this with you. Please.”

I stare at him for a long time, wondering what I truly did to be stuck in this never ending nightmare. I want to make him suffer, hurt. I want to tell him to go fuck himself, get out of my truck and leave me alone. But then I think of Boone and Dexter. Of Lily and Dani. That they don’t deserve the wrath of my good for nothing husband. Exhaustion floods my system, taking the wind out of my sails.

So I find myself wiping my face and nodding. My voice is soft as I say “Fine. Can you just drive back?” I can feel his gaze on me, even after looking away.

“Eleanor, we’re here,” I feel hands gently shake me. I hum, blinking. Tyler’s staring down at me, blue eyes vibrant under the cab lights of the truck. “You fell asleep but we’re back at the farmhouse. I…I would’ve carried you inside but I can’t get inside.”

I sit up and take in the familiarity of the barn. “That would be because I changed the locks,” I unbuckle and nudge him, sliding out of the truck as he steps back.

“Well, I gathered that,” he crosses his arms. He holds out my car keys, the dozen different shaped and sized jingle at the movement. I can see the RV in the distance, the wranglers leaning against the siding in the dark of the evening. They all start to move at the sight of me like a pack of wolves ready for the hunt. Boone catches up, in step with me as I climb the steps to the rickety porch.

“Thank you,” he whispers, kissing my cheek as I slide my key into the lock.

“Yeah, yeah,” I say.

“Seriously. I know how hard this is for you. Letting him back in,” Boone says as other footsteps join us. I ignore the comment, toeing off my boots and flicking on the light above the kitchen sink. “There’s a guest room down the hall and Lily and Dani can stay upstairs in the loft. The rest of you can use the blankets in the living room.”

Tyler says, stepping over the threshold with his duffle bag in hand. He looks around the familiar space, probably noting the empty spaces where our photos had once been. It had seemed more empty over the last year and a half. I’d spent only a few hours shuffling the wedding photos, the knick knacks, the quilt from his grandmother out into the barn along with all of his extra purchases and furniture.

I roll my eyes and head over to the fridge, pulling out a beer. I stare at the empty shelves, my stomach growling again. The choice of an old yogurt or a container of romaine stares back at me. Fuck, I knew I should’ve gotten my groceries yesterday. This whole day has gone to shit.

“Uh, El?”

I close my eyes. “Yes Boone.”

“There’s…some guy out on the porch?”

“Huh?” I turn to look at him, then to the living room. I step around him and peer out the window to see the black Carhart, the baseball cap. I swing the porch door open and cross my arms. “Rhett, hi.”

The man turns around to look at me, eyes shaded by the brim of his hat under the flickering light. He wipes his hands on his jeans, a soft expression falling on his face. “Hey El, was on my way back from a competition and saw your lights were on. I wanted to come make sure you were okay.”

“You came all the way out here?” I wrap my arms around myself, the cool Summer air giving me goosebumps.

“Course,” he nods, stepping a little closer to touch my shoulder. “Are you?”

“Not-,” I don’t get to finish my sentence, hearing the squeak of the coil on the doorframe.

“Well, Rhett Abbott, what a surprise,” Tyler’s voice is loud and boasting. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

Rhett glances behind me, looking a little shocked. His recovers quickly though, looking down at me. I turn, hands on my hips. “Tyler. Didn’t realize you remembered where home was.”

“You been making house calls? Get lost on your way back from the rodeo?” Tyler puffs out his chest and I can’t help but roll my eyes.

“Alright, that’s enough,” I say.

“Bold thing to say when you left your wi-,” Rhett starts, fists clenched tightly as he steps closer.

“Enough,” I call, stepping between the two. I look at Rhett, palm sliding over his chest and pushing back slightly. “Rhett, thank you for coming to check on me. I will call you in the morning, okay?”

He doesn’t move for a moment, eyes narrowing at Tyler. I press harder on his chest and he finally steps back, eyes finding me. He nods and turns, heading back down the steps. I watch until the headlights of his truck turn on and he’s backing down the dirt driveway.

“What the hell was that?” Tyler says.

“You’re overstepping before you’ve even gotten a welcome,” I tell him, poking his chest harshly. “What? Your newfound life going so well that you feel the need to come back and ruin mine again in the process?”

“I’m looking out for you, he’s not a good guy El,” he says.

“That’s good, that’s funny coming from you,” I shoving him, catching him off guard. “Coming from the man who walked out on his wife in the middle of an argument and disappeared for a year and a half. Changed his number, took his truck and his friends. Popped up with that big, pearly white grin on YouTube like some kind of hero. Do your fans know what kind of a man you are? You don’t get to come back here and start to lecture me on who I spend my time with. You don’t get to come back here at all,” I slam into his shoulder as I walk back inside.

I stomp passed his friends, past his little girlfriend and up to my bedroom. I slam the door shut, locking it before the tears can really start. Tears stain my face as I pull my hair up, wash my face and change into my comfy clothes. I crawl into bed, knowing first thing in the morning to finally pull the divorce papers from my junk drawer.

Thank you for reading! Want to be added to the tagged list or share feedback? Click here :)

taglist:

@buckybarnes-1917 @kim-taehyung-12301995 @accordingtoawallflower-blog @axolotllover225 @tgmreader @smoothdogsgirl @paramedicnerd004 @charmyeol69-blog @tktstomydwnfall @milesdot @arieltwvdtohamflash @dream-alittlebiggerdarling

[wildemaven]

meant to be | javier peña

-> pairing: javier peña x f!reader

-> wc: 1645

-> content warnings: 18+ blog; domestic javi, established relationship, unprotected p in v, fluff, talks of starting a family, reader has zero descriptive features

-> a/n: this was posted on my other account and i am moving it here now. it is also a rewrite of an older fic i did with frankie.

masterlist

Fall is settling in nicely in Texas. The days are still warm, but the weekends no longer hold as much daylight as they did weeks ago. 

Everything transitioning into its autumnal journey, your yard drenched in rustic hues and sunshine. 

You and Javier both loved taking advantage of the nicer weather, wanting to soak up as much of it as possible before the shift into a colder season, deciding to spend your evenings on the patio as the days wound down and the sun set behind the pasture on the west side of the ranch.  

Chores were the first thing that needed to be tackled. Divide and conquer seemed to work well for you both. You took on the inside duties of laundry, dusting, and food prep, while Javier managed the outside— mowing, tree trimming, truck washing. 

Bed made with clean sheets, a load of dirty clothes placed into the washer– the previous load hung in the backyard on the clothesline, dinner prepared and waiting– your list of to-do’s dwindling as the day went on. Now you find yourself planted at the sink of dirty dishes, your kitchen window a front row seat to the old barn, your eyes glued on your husband as he washes his truck. 

His striped sky blue shirt encapsulates every detail of his back, sleeves tight around the bulk of his arms, muscles flexing as he scrubs the soapy sponge back and forth across the metal surface– and you thank whoever designed his well-fitted jeans.  A week's worth of dirt slowly slid off the sides of the old ranch truck, a prized possession that had been passed down from Chucho when Javier had decided to take on more responsibilities around the ranch. 

It has been two years since moving into the home Javier grew up in, wanting something big with the hopes of starting a family in the future. Chucho insisted you both move in, stating the house was far too big for just him— he moved into the ranch’s guest house down the dirt road. Memories tucked to every corner of the house, old family photos still hanging in the very spot his Mama placed them.

Javier must sense he’s being watched when he turns towards the kitchen window, catching your eyes on him. His gaze lingers a bit, soap and water dripping from the sponge in his large hand. He shoots you a wink with a smile that makes you instantly weak. 

“Shit!” The mug you had been washing slips from your soapy hands into the water below, water splashing back at you, soaking the thin material of your dress, your attention drawn back to the sink and the remaining dishes. Somehow Javier still makes you flustered after all these years with just a simple look thrown your way. 

Glancing back out the window again to find Javier is no longer there, the suds freely dripping off the truck door and sponge discarded on the ground. The creak of the screen door lets you know exactly where your husband is as you proceed to dry the drinking glasses and place them in the cupboard. His shuffling around in the living room does little to help you know what he’s up to. 

“Javi?” You call out to him as you finish putting away the last of the plates and bowls, wiping the counter off before you go in search of your husband. 

The slight crackle of a record starting makes you aware of his location– the living room. His old collection of records and record player had been boxed away in the attic after he moved away. Last Spring, while you were putting away the winter blankets, you stumbled upon his music collection– something from nearly every genre. You pulled everything down one weekend while he was busy in town with Chucho, having everything set up on the bookcase and a record going when he got home. It became a habit that one of you would slip on a new record, windows open allowing the breeze to carry the songs throughout the house. 

A familiar tune begins, it instantly brings a smile to your face.

“Wise men say...”

The low timber of his voice sends a tingle down your spine any time he sings your wedding song. For such a reserved man, who refuses to indulge in karaoke, he jumps at any chance to serenade you within the walls of your home— one of the many things you love about him.

A set of arms wrap around you, welcoming you back from your walk down memory lane, pulling you against his chest as he begins to move about the kitchen with you. Your bodies swaying together as the music continues, his face nuzzled in close to your cheek as he hums along with the song.

“Like a river flows

Surely to the sea

Darling, so it goes

Some things are meant to be…”

Your body leans into him, the rest of the chores fully abandoned as you both waver about the kitchen, savoring how easy it is to create new memories in your home.

“You sure know how to get out of chores Peña.” You tell him just as he spins you around so you’re facing him, looping your arms around his neck while his hands settle on your back— Javier singing along completely ignoring your comment. 

“If I’m not mistaken Querida, I’m pretty sure you were hardly putting an effort into yours.” He teases you before grabbing your hand to send you twirling around. You can’t contain your laughter, living for these spontaneous moments of ease with the man you’re so completely head over heels for. Your body is pulled back into his, resuming the energetic flow between the two of you. A sweet rhythm of bliss now strumming through your body as you melt into his arms. 

“Hmm, I don’t know what you’re talking about…” Hiding your smirk into his warm neck, knowing full well what he’s referring to. 

“That wasn’t you gawking at me through the window—“

“I was not gawking, Javi!” As you playfully pat his chest. “I was just admiring the view.” 

“You were in fact gawking. I think I clocked you at 10 minutes from the first moment I noticed you hadn’t moved.”

“You are so exaggerating!” He’s definitely not wrong though, it’s hard to pull your eyes away from such a thing of beauty. 

“How about we take this to the bedroom, Querida– and I’ll show you exaggeration!” He taunts into your ear. 

 “Javier! Your truck is half washed in the driveway— and I know you’re going to be pissed about the soap drying on it right now. Plus, I already made the bed.” 

He’s dragging you back towards the stairs that lead to the bedroom, his infectious smirk displayed across his stupid handsome face, your body doing little to stop itself from his magnetic pull. 

“I’ll just wash it again. I’ll even set a chair up for you to admire up close. Get you one of those ice cold beers too.” He says as he falls back into the bed, pulling your body on top of his. 

“And I’m pretty sure this won’t be the last time we dirty these sheets this weekend…” His voice muffled against your neck, his lips planting kiss after kiss as he pleads his case– you easily succumb to his antics.

His hands work at the line of buttons that trail down the front of your dress, your own undoing his buckle before working at the button and zipper of his jeans– he hisses as your hands hastily move over bugle straining behind his jeans. 

Your dress is open and hanging off your shoulders as you slowly sink down on Javier’s cock, the stretch of him a welcomed adjustment, his length hitting something delicious as you settle at the base of him. 

“Fuck, Javi!!” Hands splayed over Javier’s firm chest for support, your head thrown back as a rapturous whine pours out into the room, a slight bounce to your breasts as you move— the cups of your bra pulled down, the cool air has your nipples pebbled and tight. Javier is taken by your angelic state— you're a sight to be seen. 

Javier’s fingers are digging into the meat of your thighs, the slow stuttering roll of your hips as you move over his cock has him worked up faster than he has anticipated. 

“Querida— Shit! Baby, I’m not gonna last— you look so good riding my cock like that!” His hips bucking up at the feeling of your cunt clenching around him. 

“I’m right there with you, Amor!” 

A few swipes over your throbbing clit and a string of quick thrusts, both of you cresting the euphoric peak in unison. 

You collapse on top of Javier, a strong arm wraps around your waist, a hand cupping your neck, Javier determined to keep you as close as possible— you fully melting into his touch. 

Breathing ragged and hearts racing— bodies perfectly satiated and filled with an intense love for each other. 

“I should probably get up and get dinner started. That should be plenty of time for you to rewash the truck.” You don’t show any signs of actually doing so, too relaxed to care about finishing the rest of your chores. 

“Or— we can just lay here a little longer. Save the food and truck washing for tomorrow. We can go into town later and get dinner instead.”

“A man after my heart. I’d marry you if I wasn’t already.” He rolls you off him onto your back, hands roaming over your dewy skin as he kisses you slowly. 

The lull of the record player echoes through the house as the music fades out, clothes and sheets are thrown about the bedroom, the day’s plans forgotten as you both seek out a more exhilarating afternoon. 

[inell]

Kindred Spirits

Buck/Eddie, Adult. Chapter 3 of 10.

Eddie has been a member of Paranormal Research Group for nearly four years after being recruited during one of their investigations. During that time, he’s found a job he enjoys, created a family that cares about him, become an unwilling reality TV star, and fallen in love with his best friend and partner, Buck. The team is traveling across the country filming the second season of their hit reality show, Haunted Case Files, and Eddie’s unknowingly going to find his skepticism challenged when Buck sets out to prove that there’s such a thing as destiny and fate, and that some things are meant to be.

It’s the end of the second week of filming, and they’ve just arrived in St. Francisville for a two night stay The Myrtles. It’s supposedly one of the most haunted places in America, and Buck’s been rambling about the history of the old plantation since they left the ranch outside of Laredo where they just spent three days filming.

The team had given Eddie the option to veto the Texas location, but Laredo is far enough away from El Paso that he didn’t bother wasting his veto. As it is, El Vauero Ranch wasn’t haunted at all, but they’d enjoyed a relaxing three days of filming at the ranch and barn then the rest of their time exploring the nearly hundred acres of land.

The drive from Laredo to St. Francisville has taken them about twelve hours. They’d have arrived sooner, but they quickly discovered after leaving Los Angeles that Lucy has a bladder the size of a peanut. They’ve had to make numerous stops for her to use the bathroom.

Read here on AO3!!

[painted-kneecaps]

If you are feeling lonely in your support of Palestine because of where you live, or because the internet is an echo chamber, i have something to tell you !!!

I am traveling in Europe right now, a trip that i have saved for for over a year, that i have grieved and felt guilty for the privilege of having- and i want to share with you some things that have stuck with me so far, as someone from rural Texas who knows very few people who care about Palestine.

In Paris, the wall across from my lodging is plastered with posters. I don’t speak French- the only word I can read is Gaza. I walk past a cafe, and a woman inside sips her coffee as she sits across from her lover, a keffiyeh draped around her shoulders. I pass a school, and a girl breezes past me. I can see the Handala cartoon on the back of her T-shirt as she passes. On the drive back to Germany, I crane my neck as we pass an old brick barn set against fields of green grass and yellow flowers. The Palestinian flag is painted across the side, larger than life, visible to everyone that passes.

In London, I share the sidewalk, only briefly, with an old man in a tweed suit, a ceasefire pin fastened to his lapel. In the subway I walk beneath a sticker calling for a free Palestine, fastened to the concrete above me. I walk to a restaurant with my friend after dark, and a delivery boy sits outside on his bike, a keffiyeh wrapped around his head. I yell, “I like your keffiyeh!” he grins as he pedals away, and calls “I like you!”

As I hurry through the airport, a woman passing me notices my own pin, fastened to my bag, and tells me she likes it. I grin and thank her. When my plane lands in Scotland, and I am rushing around Edinburgh, backpack heavy with everything i currently own, i pass a group of old ladies all in a row, dressed in brightly colored overalls. I stop to admire their outfits, only then to notice the string of hand quilted pennants they hold between them, altogether reading “Ceasefire Now!”

You are not alone. We are all listening.

The whole world sends its love.

Free Palestine.

[beastlybardou]

The Aesthetics of Identity and Self Imposed Homesickness

As I worked on a playlist for myself and my werewolf identity, I came across something that I had never noticed before: the way that the aesthetics I associate with my identity make me feel more out of place in my current life.

I associate my werewolf identity with, well, probably the same things most people associate wolves and werewolves with. Frigid cold mountain ranges, dark frozen forests of birch and pine, bubbling streams lined with fern and moss, the bugle of elk and growls of bears, the absence of humanity for miles upon miles - the cold, isolated wilderness of the north. Engaging with these aesthetics makes me feel euphoric and at home. You can imagine then how it feels to get offline and live in the burning hot ranch-land plains of Texas. There are no mountains here, no birch and pine, no rushing springs, no lush fern nor moss, no elk, no bears, none of it.

So what to do then when the comfort of my kind's home is locked away behind a screen or a hundred dollar plane ticket?

Well for a good while I contented myself with the answer "suffer". But y'know I really don't think that is the best solution. The feeling of discontent in your surroundings and intense species dysphoria actually feels, well, kind of romanticized in our community, like the suffering makes your identity more real, but I think for me what really makes my identity shine is bringing it away from the online world and into the real one, even if what is around me isn't exactly the environment I prefer. I think a better answer is to do what wolves and humans have always done best: adapt. There is no reason that I shouldn't romanticize the aesthetics of the land that I do have around me through a werewolf perspective. That's where the playlist I was working on comes in. All this kind of "clicked" in a way for me driving down a long ranch road at sundown listening to Prowler by Coyote Kid which I had just added to my playlist on recommendation without listening to it first. Its southern gothic vibes mixed with werewolfery caught my attention immediately, because I noticed what I felt in that moment was a kind of species euphoria usually reserved for visits to the mountains. I was at home in my species *and* my environment. The dark dusky skies darkening over fields of cattle and juniper forests, the scent of sun baked straw and dust warming my snout, the hot evening breeze ruffling my fur - it all suddenly felt like home.

That feeling did quickly fade, but it gave me a glimpse of the fact that I am capable of feeling at home here. That I can be just as much, or even more, of a werewolf when I'm enjoying this land as I am when I'm made miserable by it and my homesickness. So from now on I am going to try to embrace the aesthetics and activities of the place that I am, rather than the place I wish I was. I'll be the beast lurking in the ranch lands and along the country roads, the snarl from in the grass much to deep to be a coyote, the mysterious paw prints littering the dust of your destroyed barn. And I can treat living near humans the same way. I will never fit in with humans. I try not to get too misanthropic about it, but I just won't. That doesn't mean I can't exist on the fringes of their society. Infiltrator. Beast hidden in the crowd. I can wear their mask and be proud of my ability to do so. I don't have to feel crushed by it when I know I am always just biding my time to meet others of my kind and let myself free when I am alone.

I know it might seem strange for a simple shift of aesthetics to be so impactful, but in this community especially, aesthetics and symbolism are such a foundational building block of self image and of how you interact with the community itself. And I suppose even then really this is less about the shift in self image around aesthetics and more about the refusal to continue participating in the misery olympics of "how homesick and species dysphoric can I be".

I am a wolf. We adapt.

[grogusmum]

Class of 1974 Taking Chances Part 3: All In

Javier Peña X F!Reader

RATED: EXPLICIT 18+

WORD COUNT: 1800ish

WARNINGS: oral sex (f receiving) some swearing, As always, see something? Say something. Pop into my DMs and let me know so I can add anything I overlooked.

SERIES SUMMARY: Javier graduated from high school in 74', it's 1989. On a sort of whim he decides to go to his class reunion and sees his old flame, you.

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Javi arrives in Vermont and is ready to take the plunge.

Part 2

Javier turns onto a dirt road, passing three large mailboxes, the faded red one has your last name and a little handprint in sky blue on it. A rippling hayfield and what has to be an ancient beech tree complete with a tire swing are to his left and an old stone wall with raspberry canes growing through it on his right. Javier can’t help but think he's entered a Norman Rockwell painting, and wonders if he's up for that, if he can fit into that. A DEA agent, who bent the rules into pretzels "to get the bad guy".

He has to take this chance; he knows he will regret it if he gets cold feet. Like last time with you and then with Loreena.

Driving past the tree, the road bends to the left and a farmhouse with an attached barn, common in New England, comes into view. A kid in overalls is in the dooryard with a black dog. He turns and calls into the house.

Then there you are, t-shirt, jeans, and tall Wellington boots, a pair of work gloves in your hand, and all trepidation washes away. Javier gets fully out of his fastback and swings the door closed. His hands settled on his belt. He looks down at his shoes and then tilts his head up a tick, his eyes raised to meet yours, eyebrows up in question.

Is this okay?

"Javi?" You ask, astonished, a smile nevertheless spreading across your face. Then you break into a run, gloves forgotten in the grass as you all but crash into him. His arms immediately wrap tightly around you; your feet leave the ground for a moment.

"You're here," you confirm, "you're h- I - wait, is everything okay?"

Your last conversations have been hard ones, Vermont and Texas are just so far, it feels more than just distance when it's not temporary. You feel it’s unfair to ask him to come to Vermont, to give up on his work and be so far from his father, and Javier knows you have a whole life here, making a living as a farmer, no easy feat these days, not to mention with a kid to raise.

"I thought we agreed long distance wasn't cutting it."

"It wasn't," Javier cups your cheek, his eyes roving your features with adoration.

"But I thought we- we decided... what's changed?"

"Me," Javier looks you full in the face, his chestnut eyes trained softly on yours. "I've changed, and I want you, wherever you are."

The corners of your eyes prickle, and you shake your head slowly in awe. Taking his face in your hands, his beautiful face, and slot your lips to his. You're glad he's got a good hold on you because your legs may never work properly again. When you finally come up for air, Javier takes his aviators off and looks at you, his eyes glassy too.

“Come on inside, let's have some lunch,” you take one of his fingers and give it a gentle tug as you lead him in the house. You give him a lopsided smile over your shoulder, and he huffs a laugh, again and again he wonders how he ever let go of you.

On the porch, you give your son, Benjamin a nod to come into the house he and Murphy the Dog, comply together.

Javier first smells the savory soup that must be on the stove. There's music playing from a radio. He takes in the house, from the outside it’s a picture of Americana, inside it's far more eclectic. The plaster walls above the wood wainscoting are painted in colors, rooms of sky blue, barn red, sage green… the floors are hodgepodge some are stained a warm honey color, while others have been painted, old folk art hook area rugs warming them up. Your love of theater, music, movies, and books is evident, from the marquee posters, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, and instruments, not just an upright piano that looks like it came from a school but a guitar, ukelele, some instruments he doesnt recognize, and some kind of brightly colored hand drum beside a basket of equally colorful small percussion instruments. Then Javier remembers you saying in the winter you run a sort of music playgroup for little kids to help pay the bills.

Your kitchen is sunny yellow, large with a high tin ceiling with fans hanging down. It feels like the center of the house, it’s heart. Not only a large round scrubbed wood table with plentiful mismatched chairs, but an overstuffed armchair by a pillow covered window seat that looks like an adult could sleep on. The music is coming from a radio/turntable console that has to be from the 40’s or 50’s.

It's all exactly you, and he can’t believe this is the first time he is seeing it. Part of the reason things weren’t working probably; the plan was to save on travel by “meeting in the middle” when you could get together. Then the rest was letters and phone calls, but that at 38¢ a minute... they were not long. He needed to see your life, and you needed to see his. But he didn’t want to show you that. Sure, he gave you the broad strokes, not really wanting to get into details. Another reason… what’s that, strike two? He can't mess up the next pitch.

“You look like you see a ball and chain in the corner,” you murmur, trying to disguise anxiety with sass.

“Nope, just realizing I should have come here months ago, babydoll.”

You smile, relief in your eyes.

“This is Benji,” you say pulling your son to a side hug. Murphy starts smelling Javier, closely. “And 'nosy Joe' here is Murphy.”

“Hi Benji. Your mom’s told me a lot about you, I’m Javi.” Javier pulls back his hips protectively and gives the Labrador a hand to smell. Chuckling, he murmers, “Murphy, huh?”

“Ben,” you say, with a nod at Murphy.

“Yeah sorry, come on Murph get out of there,” your son pulls Murphy away, “Sorry.”

After grilled cheese with soup and chatting with Benji about school (it’s okay) and baseball (I can’t believe we came in third! My favorite is Boggs), Benji asks if Javi brought his gun. (Earning a stern Benjamin Oliver! from you and a wink and a nod from Javi), and you encourage Benji to show Javier the farm while you clean up.

"Sure!" The boy bounds through the house, "come on!"

Javier kisses your forehead and follows.

"You work on a ranch?"

"Mmhm, it's my father's, it's big"

"Ours is small, just a few goats, sheep, chickens... we have two horses. Mom told me you have a cattle farm"

"Yep, cows and horses to wrangle them."

"Knock, knock."

Javier is quite for a beat from the abrupt switch, then smiles-

"Who's there?"

"Impatient cow."

"Impatient cow wh-"

"MOOOOO" Benji cuts across, and Javier gives him a satisfying burst of surprised laughter. He ruffles the boy's head-

"That's a good one, Ben. I needed a good knock knock joke."

Javi brings his overnight bag upstairs. Your room is a soft coral. The bed is tall, with a whitewash spindle headboard and a crazy quilt spread, complete with a calico cat at the end of it, who looks at Javi nonplussed.

“There is a bathroom off of my room, right through the closet- yeah, old houses,” you shrug.

After putting his bag on the cedar chest at the end of the bed, Javi reels you in for a kiss.

“So did I hear Benji go outside?”

You laugh, kissing him.

“Yeah, he went over to the neighbors, I told him we needed to talk about some stuff.”

“Talking’s good. But mmm, I can think of other ways to-“

Javi's hand cradles the back of your neck as he comes in for another deeper kiss. You hum a little at the taste of his lips and his mustache's rasp. You bring your pelvis in to meet his, which is taken as a green light. With the smooth grace of someone practiced, Javi brings your shirt over your head with hardly a break in his feast on your mouth, jaw, and neck. You unbutton his shirt hastily, and not as smoothly – it's been a while, and you aren't nearly as skilled. But you are gifted a soft groaning, ‘fuck’ when you dip your head to his now bare chest, and let your teeth graze one of his nipples. Javier backs you toward the bed. When you're spread out, legs dangling off the edge, he unbuttons your jeans, peeling them off you like a present he is looking to savor, as you watch on your elbows. Your bra and underpants remain. You sit up and pull at his buckle. Javier watches you, your eyes sparkling with mischief as you work his buckle open and off, then unbuttoning his jeans. He remembers his shoes and toes them off quickly, not wanting to lose momentum. Looking at you mostly bare, soft curves, silver stretch marks from carrying Benji, just gorgeous. His head shakes almost imperceptibly, thinking about the first time you “met part way” when you weren’t in a dark cramped car, when he could see you properly for the first time in fifteen years-

“Bonita, babydoll, you’re so beautiful… the years I missed-“

“We’ve got plenty of time, Javi, plenty.”

“I wish-“

“Me too. But we are here now.”

“We’re here now.”

You tug his pants down and pull him onto you, bringing him back to the present.

Javier tucks his narrow hips between your thighs, his elbows holding his torso over you, he searches your face-

“I never stopped loving you.”

“Me neither,” your hand goes into his hair, giving a soft tug at the curls on the nape of his neck, Javier gives a growl and kisses you hard on the lips, its teeth and tongue, nips and licks. When you give an involuntary buck, his smirk is dangerous. He licks his bottom lip and his eyes track down your body, his eyebrows quirk like he’s deciding something. Suddenly he’s off you.

“Jav, what are y-" your confused query becomes a gasp.

Javier puts his mouth on your clothed mound.

“Shit,” you breathe.

Javier’s nose nudges at your clit, making your legs quiver, then he takes the elastic of your undies in his teeth and he draws them down slowly, his fingers looping the sides to help them along.

Your chest rises and falls quickly with anticipation, as you look at the ceiling. His breath fanning over your center tells you right where he is, and then the flat of his tongue draws a stripe from your entrance to your clit.

“Nectar of the gods, babydoll,” Javier moans and makes a meal of you.

Your head is heavy on his chest as you doze, which is no longer tight, and your quiet snores are like music, a comforting song. The afternoon sunshine streams in the open window. He watches the curtains flutter and dust motes dance in the disturbed air, as he hears birds, he doesn’t know. He is in uncharted territory and he has no plans to fuck it up. You are his compass, and years of what not to do is his map.

Before falling to sleep, he showed you his skeletons, you know what he’s done.

You will talk more. About about him, and his work. About what life might look like up here for him, like a warning. You'll stumble over the term 'stepdad', not wanting to presume… but you need to know for Benji, if he really wants this. And he does want it-

All of it.

THANK YOU FOR READING 💚

You can find more of my work here and if you would care to be tagged for this or any of my writing fill out my taglist form

[tgmsunmontue]

Caring, Keeping and Collecting Transformers - A Guide 2/?

Maverick is unknowingly surrounded by Transformers. He knows something is up though. Just not quite what it is exactly.

Bradley and Jake, having never met, are embarking on their own journeys and will have to learn to deal with the fact that they've both been adopted by Transformers.

Despite having years more experience, Maverick is no help at all.

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

                Bradley knows his car isn’t normal.

                The fact that he has never once had to buy gas is the biggest red flag if he ever saw one, except it’s not really red, because his car never stops working. Only works for him in fact, which he had thought was a joke that Maverick had started jokingly when he was younger. Except his car refuses to start for anyone else. No one can borrow it. He’s tried all of one time, handing the keys to one of his college friends when they’d asked if they could borrow his truck to move. He hadn’t thought twice about saying yes. And then they’d come back over an hour later saying it just wouldn’t start.

                So now everyone thinks his car is either cursed or possessed, in a joking way, the same way Maverick had, except Maverick had sometimes eyed it like he believed something else. And as much as he hates Maverick, he also doesn’t think he’d have let Bradley get into something that could potentially hurt him. Had seemed glad that it had started for Bradley, and Bradley alone. He hadn’t thought the car was maybe sentient or something until he’d lost the keys and thought he’d… beg.

                “Will you start for me buddy? I can’t find my keys and I really need to get across town to my classes…”

                He knows that later he’s going to think he imagined the wave of shuddering his car gave, like it was shrugging its shoulders or something. Except of course his car doesn’t have fucking shoulders, but it still starts and the radio flares to life and he doesn’t recognize the song playing at all, but he listens anyway… It's things I do for you, In return do the same for me. Okay. He doesn’t know what the hell that means, unless he’s meant to take the things I do for you literally.

                “I’ll give you a really good wash and polish okay? Oil wherever you want…” Bradley says, and he feels a little stupid, talking to his car, rubbing a hand along the dash, but his car just started because he asked it to so he’s past the point of thinking himself crazy. God he wishes he could talk to Maverick about this.

…            …            …

                When Jake’s accepted into USNA his family are all proud of him, then he gets into flight school, his dream of becoming an aviator one step closer. He has his degree in mechanical engineering and he knows better now. Knows more now, about how things are meant to fit together. How things work. This plane he’s been working on, playing with, since he was a kid doesn’t fit any of the stuff he’s learnt and he wonders if he simply fucked it up that badly as a teenager trying to do it up.

                He goes on a bit of a fact-finding mission. Talks to his uncle, finds out the original body came from a fair distance away, up past the Arctic circle in Canada. The fact his uncle had it transported all the way down to Texas is impressive, but his uncle is a truck driver and has travelled the breadth of the continent. He runs his hands over the body skeleton, knows he’s imagining the humming vibration beneath his fingers even if he wishes it were true. He’s been gone for years, away at USNA, and then flight school. While he’s been gone more bits of scrap have accumulated beside it, and no one knows when or how it got there. He hasn’t had time to dedicate to trying to fix her up properly, but looking around it’s almost like all the pieces are there.

                Hell, it’ll give him something to do while he has time to kill between deployments, his parents won’t mind storing it in an old barn if it means he comes home. It’s not like he has anything better to do.

                “You realize it’s never going to become airborne…” his father says, coming to stand beside him as he stares at it all, somehow just as big as it had seemed when he was a kid.

                “I don’t care. It’s good practice for me, and I enjoy it. No harm right?”

…            …            …

                The first time the Bronco reappears at the hangar Pete nearly has a heart attack. He definitely has a panic attack and has to breathe through it before grabbing the phone and ringing Ice.

                “Bradley. Is Bradley okay?”

                “Mav? What’s wrong?”

                “Just… I know I told you not to tell me. But can you just tell me he’s alive?”

                “Yes. I know he is. He left on his first deployment yesterday. Five months.”

                He breathes easier, thanks Ice for sharing that information with him and then turns to just look at the Bronco. It’s a bit dusty but it looks well maintained. Shiny and well cared for. A little before five months later when he wakes up the Bronco is gone and Pete finds himself more than okay knowing where the car’s true loyalties are.

…            …            …

                Bradley doesn’t believe in magic.

                Magic doesn’t exist.

                Any yet sometimes he wonders.

                Because he doesn’t know how to explain it.

                He’d left his car in Virginia Beach, fairly certain that it was going to be there when he got back. It’s not like anyone else can even drive it, let alone steal it. Although a part of him wonders what would happen if someone tried to steal the tires. And if he could film it.

                Getting off the carrier in San Diego he’s heading toward the transport to take him to base. He’s organized a flight back to Virginia Beach, and he’ll take his leave on the East Coast. Except the sound of a car horn has him looking and this, this is why he thinks his life is somehow got a touch of the eldritch or something. The Bronco is sitting and waiting. Waiting for him specifically, windows down, because no one else can drive it.

                But it can apparently drive itself and it came to pick him up.

                It’s a hell of a homecoming and he kisses his fingers and then taps the fingers to the dashboard as he gets in.

                “Good to see you buddy. Missed you.”

                He hopes no-one sees him talking to thin-air, but he’s also pretty sure his car can not only hear him but understands him. It occurs to him that he now has to cancel his flight transfer back, and he still somehow has to get to himself and his car to Virginia Beach, because he doesn’t want to be hanging around San Diego and bumping into anyone.

…            …            …

                “Thanks for the new bike…”

                “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

                “Love you too.”

                Tom frowns. Are people just dumping their old junkers at the hangar now?

                Well. At least it’s keeping Pete busy.

…            …            …

                “I don’t want you driving that late at night when you’re that tired. We aren’t in our twenties any more Pete…”

                “So you bought me a trailer? So I can sleep at the hangar?”

                “Well, not just sleep…”

                “Ooohhh… yeah okay. Let’s go give it a test drive huh?”

                “Sounds good.”

…            …            …

                Jake is tired. That has to be why he’s seeing a giant walking plane staring down at his plane, his do-it-upper that he’s had for over fifteen years now. He thinks and dreams about planes and flying so much he’s now seeing them when he’s awake. He should probably go back to bed. Then the thing is turning, bearing down on him and snarling.

                “You. Human. Did you do this?”

                “Holy shit…” Jake says.

                “Answer me!”

                “Did what exactly? Build it? Yeah. That was me. I’m trying to fix him up. Who are you? What are you?”

                The machine’s eyes flick over him, clearly assessing or looking for something and Jake stands where he is, scared shitless but refusing to show it.

                “Who I am does not matter, but my name is Starscream. This is… my friend. Jetfire. What happened to him?”

                “Uh. I don’t know. I’ve been collecting pieces and rebuilding it… is… Is Jetfire like you?”

                “Jetfire is better than I. I failed him. He will need his wings and some power.”

                Jake looks between the pile of pieces which form a very rough body of a plane fuselage and then at the towering body of… Starscream.

                “Wait, are you saying he can be bought back to life?”

                “Of course. We will finish rebuilding him.”

                “Holy shit,” Jake says again. “You’re serious. What are we going to need?”

                Starscream looks at him, and he doesn’t look happy.

                “We…” he looks even more disgusted at the word. “Are going to need help.”

                And yeah, okay. Jake can appreciate where he’s coming from.

[countrymusiclover]

18 - Mr and Mrs. Cooper

( image from Pinterest )

Part 19

The Texas Tire Family

Tags just ask - @supernaturalgirl30 @bvbwestfall @bubble-blu @patriciaplictisita @liesanddreams @bethanymccauley

Missy ran down a hallway to the last bedroom putting her baseball and mit away. She came back grinning ear to ear. “So my brothers are weird. My dad drinks beer and my mom is really strong about god. Other than that I’m the normal one.”

“Okay I’ll keep that in mind.” I nodded, putting my hands inside the pockets of my jacket until the back room opened.

I noticed Sheldon was carrying some mittens in his hand and he stood in front of us. “You’re Y/n from my math class that sits in the front row. You did well on our last test. Not as good as me but not bad.”

“Uh thanks Sheldon. Can I ask why you have mittens?” I made the mistake the first night I had dinner with his family.

Missy rolled her head back. “Oh no.”

“I don’t know where your hands have been. I don’t want to risk the likelihood that you have some kind of disease. There are too many in the world.” He explained moving around us to watch a science tv show.

The back door opens and I saw their mother come in with some brisket getting the table set in the dining room. The bedroom door in front of me and Missy opened and I smiled seeing it was Georgie. “Hey Georgie.”

“Hey Y/n.” He smiled wearing a yellow tea shirt with a football number on it. He had blue jeans on with henna shoes. I gulped feeling nervous since I was just wearing a Texas tea shirt that was light blue and some dark blue jeans with my hair in a ponytail.

The three of us headed into the kitchen seek Mr. Cooper had come in from work wearing his red coach gear. “Hey ya’ll. Georgie, did you invite a girl from school to dinner?”

“No!” He fought back.

Missy piped up. “I did.”

“Alright well let’s eat.” He shrugged his shoulders sitting down at the end of the table. Missy sat across from me. Georgie and Sheldon were on the same side.

Someone entered the house where I saw an older woman sit down at the other end across from George Senior. “Hey ya’ll who’s the new girl?”

“Y/n, ma’am.” I smiled while putting some brisket on my plate.

She smiled at me. “Call me Connie.” Mrs. Cooper had us all take hands while she blessed the food before we all dug in.

“This is really good, meemaw.” Georgie told Connie with his mouth full of meat.

She sat her fork down on her plate. “Really good. You’re spitting the best brisket in Texas all over the damn table.” I snort covering my mouth with my hand holding the fork trying not to laugh out loud.

“Close your mouth.” His mom said.

Sheldon suggested back. “Or aim your face the other way before you spit on Y/n.”

“You're acting like a barn animal. Y/n probably won’t ever kiss ya.” Missy stuck her tongue out towards her brother causing my face to turn red at the thought.

Georgie hit his other hand on the table where I glanced out the corner of my eye seeing that he was blushing too where a smile grew on my face. “Shut up, Missy. I ain’t gonna kiss the girl in my class that you invited to dinner.”

“I bet you a dollar that you will get with her in two years.” She challenged him.

I added on playing her game smirking at Georgie. “When she is going into middle school.”

“Oh yay!” Missy leaned across the table high fiving me grinning with me. Unknown to either of us it would actually happen when we were both sixteen years old.

Georgie and I were huddled up as close as we could be. Aurora, Eve and Montana in between us with the storm crashing outside the upstairs of the church. I didn’t know how long we had been down in the basement. But it was scary as hell that much I knew. Clutching my eyes shut tightly I whimpered like a dog until someone peeked outside announcing to our group. “The storm has passed now. We can go check out the damage.”

Everyone got to their feet and shuffled outside as best as we could. Georgie got to his feet first helping me to stand on my own two feet. “I’m sorry about your dress, darling.” He dropped his gaze downward to my wedding gown.

“It’s just a dress, Georgie. I’m more relieved that my family is safe.” I shrug my shoulders pushing hair behind my ear. The dress was stained with dust and dirt on the bottom train but otherwise it was white still for the most part.

Aurora and Eve ran towards the main doors pushing them open. I was carrying Montana in my arms where he was drooling a little on my shoulder. “Mommy, look at the truck.” Eve points out where we both gasped in relief.

“Holy crap.” I sighed seeing that a large tree limb was laying right beside our car meaning it was fine but it definitely was a close call.

Georgie put a hand on my shoulder squeezing it gently. “Things could have been worse.”

“Thank you lord.” His mother said, holding her hands together praying to the sky.

Sheldon just glanced at Amy who gave him a look. “Don’t say it.”

“She probably will say God sent the storm and then took it away.” He didn’t listen and said it anyway.

Connie came over to us pulling a box of firecrackers in her hands. “I thought I’d get you two of these as a wedding present. Since Mary is going to be watching your kids tonight.”

“Oh mom.” Mary rolled her eyes.

Georgie glanced down at me wrapping his arm around my waist tugging me into his side smirking. “Take you back doesn’t it, Y/n?”

“For sure. At least this time we won’t have to worry about being grounded.” I chuckled at him, grinning up at him. I would remember that night forever.

Mary came over gently picking up Montana from my arms. “I know your father would be happy if he was here. You’re a good father and husband Georgie.”

“Mommy, can we throw the poppers?” Eve asked tugging on the side of my gown.

I bent down handing the box to my husband, opening my arms for her. “Unfortunately no sweetheart. They are for your father and me. But we will let you throw some if we don’t use them all. Now give me a hug.”

“I love ya.” She mumbled jumping into my arms hugging me gently.

She ran towards her daddy jumping up into his arms where he grunted at how fast she ran at him. “Woah Eve. I love ya too.”

“Rora, behave for Connie.” I warned our eldest daughter when I noticed something in her pocket when she walked over to her father hugging him. “And don’t set you or your sister on fire with that cracker in your jacket pocket.”

Georgie smiled when I sent him a raised brow. “Don’t look at me. I didn’t give it to her.”

“Sure, you didn’t Mr. Cooper.” I trailed off, raising myself to stand heading over to his truck. Georgie came over to me making me squeal when he picked me up bridal style sitting me in the passenger seat. He got in the driver's seat taking us back to our house that was down the road from Connie’s.

We finally had gotten enough money to move out of the apartment and buy a house of our own. Georgie opened his door coming over to my side where I wrapped my arms around his neck when he picked me up again. “Georgie, I can’t believe we’re actually doing this now.”

“Neither can I, babe. Now let’s do this the right way.” He opened the door when I grabbed the keys from his back pocket. After fiddling with the lock I got it open since he was still carrying me in his arms. “Welcome home, Mrs. Cooper.”

My dress hit the floor where I spun around underneath his arm when he gave me a spin. “Thank you, Mr. Cooper. I love you, Georgie. Just thought I needed to say it again.”

“You don't have to stop saying it ever. Cause I love you too. I’ll never stop, darling.” He tugged me against his chest watching when I moved my hands up undoing the tie he had on throwing it off when he shut the door with his boot.

I smiled up at him leaning up on my toes and he closed the gap kissing me slowly. One of his hands moved to the back of my dress tugging on the zipper where I broke the kiss smirking. “We should probably move this to the bedroom.”

“Probably a good idea.” He nodded leading me by our intertwined hands into our bedroom. We both kicked off our shoes and he removed his jacket just being in jeans and his white tea shirt.

Laying down on the bed I wrapped my arms around his neck pulling him in for another kiss. He put one hand on my hip, kissing me slowly. His other hand was in my hair tugging on it for a second until he broke the kiss. “What’s wrong?”

“With our track record of when we sleep together I just….I want to make sure you're cool. With ya know maybe a fourth kid and all.” He searched my face for any hesitation and he has done it every time since we were teenagers when we had Aurora.

Running one hand through his hair I drew him in for another kiss. “Georgie, I said this with Eve and I said it with Montana. I ain’t gonna run because you get me pregnant. I love you always. Now kiss me, Mr. Texan.”

“God you don’t know what that nickname does to me.” He smirked quickly trying to shrug his shirt over his head and then helped me remove my dress by tossing it on the chair by the shut bedroom door so it wouldn’t end up on the floor.

Resting my hands on his shoulders I smiled up at him hovering above me. “Probably the same way you call me darling. Every time it drives me crazy and I love you for it.”

“And I’ll never stop cause you're always going to be my darling.” He smiled wrapping his arms around me when I put my legs around his waist pressing my lips onto his. The rest of the night was spent in bed enjoying being in each other's arms finally as a married couple after ten years.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[silverstonesainz-archive]

HI GOOD MORNING BESTIE!!!

Starting off w a daniel prompt because I’m in love with your writing but especially the way you write daniel.

•“you’re so cute.” “what did you just say?” “i said you look like a boot.”

it’s giving Danny in Austin🤨🤨🤨

for my bestie boo <3

boot barn (dr3) ─── one pair of cream colored boots later

“what do you mean i can’t come to austin?”

daniel doesn’t see the disbelief on your face. your brows are knit together, pout adorning your pink lips. he misses the sight, too busy re-packing his luggage after rummaging through it for his work gear.

“do you own boots?” “no.”

“belt with a big obnoxious buckle?” “no.”

“do you even own a cowboy hat?” “no.” 

he clicks his tongue, hands still in the thick of his luggage as he turns to look at you with a perplexed stare. “then you can’t come.” 

you scowl at him, and daniel laughs, returning his attention back to whatever it is he’s looking for. “you don’t own texas, you can’t stop me.”

“yeah well i hold your pass so good luck.“ 

“fuck you.”

he was joking of course. he wanted you there, it was his favorite race of the season. it wouldn’t be the same if he favorite person wasn’t there with him. he stands up, satisfied with the progress he’s made. granted, half his clothes were still strewn around the open suitcase, but it would do for now. you flop onto the bed, a hmph escaping you. daniel snorts softly, coming over to ruffle your hair, but you grab hold of his wrist before he can. 

“will you take me to boot barn tomorrow then, so i can buy a pair?” 

his stomach drops slightly, seeing the way you look up at him. it’s almost as if he’s pulled a chair out from under you. “you know i was kidding right?”

you nod, sitting up, and your tiny fingers still wrapped around his wrist, “yeah yeah. but if i’m walking onto the paddock with you, i’m gonna have to match up to all…. all this you got going on.” you flick your chin over to his day one ensemble hanging in the open closet. a full cowboy outfit: denim on denim, with black boots and a brown cowboy hat to pull the whole look together. 

“i can draw mutton chops on ya if you’d like.” he pulls his hand from your hold, taking your face between his thumb and four fingers, giving your cheeks a playful squeeze. 

you roll your eyes, swatting his hand away. “in your dreams, ricciardo.”

he does bring you to boot barn the next day, hoodie up and drawstring tightened slightly. you call him insane, complaining that it wasn’t cold enough to be that bundled up. but he just didn’t want to be seen, he wanted to shop in peace. 

or just a moment with you in peace. 

he doesn’t say much for the first couple of moments, allowing you to look over your choices. he sits on a chair by the wall of boots you’re looking at, hands stuffed into the pocket of his hoodie. it takes a couple of minutes before you pull down your first pair, and by the end of the hour you were stuck between four. his hoodie is pulled down and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, eyes following your every move as you walk in pair number two for the third time, eyes never leaving the mirror. he like’s number two on you, the cream boot more up your alley than the darker options.

“well?” 

he walks over to you, only stopping a couple of inches behind you. he looks at your reflection, the way your eyes flicker from the boot and up. you look at him in the mirror, perking your lips up. 

“yeah, these are probably my favorite one.” 

you smile, nodding. he tries to buy them for you, but you just about pushed him across the store and threw your card at the cashier before he could. you lead the way all the way to the car, a skip in your step as you swing the bag with your new boots back and forth. “can we go get ice cream?”

“what are you, five?” he teases, opening the car door for you. 

“five at heart, yes.” you climb into the car, sitting in the seat and grinning over at him.

daniel rolls his eyes. “you’re so cute.” 

he didn’t mean to say it out loud, but he did. eyes are wide at the sudden complement, neither of you aware at how the other’s heart races. a beat of silence. then another, before you finally say something. 

“what did you just say?”

he should’ve just come clean, right? what’s the harm in being honest? 

he chose to shut the car door on you instead. 

neither of you move, both too stunned that daniel just shut the door in your face. he hastily opens it a second later, “sorry, fuck.”

“did you call me cute?”

“no… i said you look like a boot.” he wanted to slap himself silly, his mind calling him a million and one names for the worst save known to man. 

you eye him skeptically, shaking your head. “yeah… okay.” you pull the door shut and daniel lets out a breath. 

he jogs over to the driver’s side, mind reeling and feeling slightly embarrassed. the air in the car is a little unsettling on the drive to the ice cream parlor. both your minds swirl over the three words. three innocent words that seemed to hold a lot of depth to the both of you. you fidget in your seat as daniel slows to a stop at a red light.

“so you think i’m cute?” he whines, but you continue anyway. “do you? because… i think you are.”

it was like second grade all over again. 

daniel turns to look at you. your elbows rest on the middle console, leaning over it with wide eyes as you await his response. he smiles shyly, reaching over to hold your cheek between his four fingers and thumb and giving your face a gentle squeeze.

“yes,” he breathes, “i think you’re the cutest.”

[yourlocalghoulette]

Part One ~ Grand Opening

Series masterlist~ Main masterlist~ Meet the horsies~

w/c- 3k

warnings- eventual smut so MDNI, this chapter is pretty much fluff, language, reader has riding trauma but not explained in detail (yet), Joel is a softie for horses and Sarah, he's so sweet he'll make your teeth ache!

lmk if you want to be on the taglist!

horses used to be a favorite past time.

a place in your life where you could feel alive, feel comforted, feel free. an escape from reality. home.

happiness doesn't last forever, and you found that out quick. being the best in your hunter/jumper team didn't mean you had it good. hell, it made it worse. more stress, more demanding work, more pressure from trainers to hold up the team and win the gold medals. but one thing led to another, and after a few mentally and physically abusive trainers and a bad fall, you decided to quit.

quit the one thing that made you happy.

sometimes you wish you could go back in time, to when you were five and sat on a pony for the first time at the fair. your mom always smiled at the memory, saying she wished she could see that light in your eyes once more.

living in Austin, Texas, the land of cowboys, wasn't exactly helpful. horses were everywhere, from hunter barns to trail riding stables. although horses are practically shoved in your face in Texas, you've done pretty well with staying away from them. they bring back too many unpleasant memories.

little did you know that a tiny new stable across town would change your life forever.

Joel Miller adores horses. his life, heart, and soul, or at least some of it.

his daughter Sarah takes up most of his everything. she's his sun, moon, stars, and his rock ever since he woke up in an empty bed eleven years ago. well, the horses too. sometimes the only time he would feel grounded was when he was mounted up in the saddle. it's a strange comfort, knowing that you can trust the 1,000 pound animal with your life. most of the time, of course. he's had his fair share of accidents, as would anyone that's associated with horses.

after years of working double shifts for a contracting company with his brother Tommy, he finally saved enough money up to build his own riding barn.

he doesn't want to be like the showy, expensive barns that are found all over Austin, Texas. he wanted his barn to be a safe house, an escape from reality for whoever walked into his barn. he had grown up in the dressage barn his parents owned, and the toxicity among the members was palpable. everything was a competition.

Joel didn't like that at all. he thinks horses should be a man's best friend, not a ticket to a gold medal. which is why he is opening the new stable. he knows it won't compete with the larger barns around it but at least it will be a home to the few people that come to find it.

your mission to stay away from horses is hijacked when you get a call from your best friend, Sōl, while you're driving home from the coffee shop you work at.

"hey, girlie pop!" you answer the phone, jumping as her voice comes through the car speakers loudly.

"hey, babes!" you hear her cheery voice on the other side of the phone.

"Jesus, Sōl. you're connected to AirPlay and about made me cause an accident," you laugh, turning the car volume down. "what's up?"

"ok, you're not gonna like this," she starts out slowly.

"girl, just tell me," you sigh knowingly, hearing her attempted compelling tone of voice.

"I know you don't really want to be around horses anymore butttt there's a new barn opening in Leander and the grand opening sounds super fun. horse rides, food, and games. you wanna come with me?" she questions slyly, using her sweetest voice to convince you.

you let out a long sigh, running a hand over your face as you stop at a red light. "I don't know, babe. i...I haven't been around horses since...since like high school. I don't know if I'm ready for it."

"come on girl, it's gonna be a good time! and it's not like the other barns you rode at, or like Cedar Ridge." Sōl rides for Cedar Ridge, a large jumper barn outside of Austin, and is one of the best on the team. "listen. I'll send you the website and you can look at it, then decide. okay?" you can hear Sōl's grin through the speakers.

"fine. but it's only a maybe, okay, babe?" you let out an exasperated breath.

once you're back home and settled on the couch in your apartment with a bag of cheddar popcorn, you open the link Sōl texted you and scroll the website. the description catches your eye and you click on the read more button.

Sarah's Stables is a small, family-owned barn located just outside of Austin. our goal is to make people comfortable around horses and to bond with these amazing creatures. we aren't about competitions and gold metals at Sarah's Stables. we believe horses should be a second home, a place to rest your head. we also believe that the privilege of being around horses should be available to everyone, so we have affordable prices and volunteer-to-ride programs as well. come to our grand opening on July 26th!

below the paragraph is a picture of the owner, Joel with his daughter Sarah. you look closer to see that he is undeniably handsome. his dark brown eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiles widely in the photo. brown curls frame his forehead, streaked with a few silver hairs. his jawline is specked with salt-and-pepper scruff. his daughter is beautiful as well, with light brown skin and tight curly hair. you can see the resemblance in their eyes.

you sigh deeply. it doesn't look like the barns you're used to. it looks more relaxed, more fun. and it was only a small plus that the owner is easy on the eyes.

you give in and call Sōl. "i read the website. I'm in," you grin.

who knows, maybe it'll be good for you to see horses again.

July 26th dawns bright and early for Joel. he wakes up with a start to the sound of Sarah knocking on his door.

"Alarm!" she calls into his room.

"shit," he mutters, hitting the top of the beeping alarm with his palm. when he remembers what day it is, his hands turn clammy with nervousness. he glances at the alarm clock. 5:40; he has twenty minutes before he has to go to the barn to feed the horses. he rolls out of bed with a grunt, stretching his limbs. he throws on a worn t-shirt and a pair of jeans and walks downstairs.

he finds Sarah in the kitchen, scrambling eggs over the stove. "mornin', kiddo," he grunts, ruffling her hair as a small smile plays on his lips. "how'd you sleep?"

"i didn't," Sarah grins. "i was too excited and scared. scare-cited... scexcited...?"

"scare-cited sounds right to me," he chuckles, pouring coffee into a red mug.

"i was gonna make pancakes for the big day but you forgot to pick up mix. you're gonna have to settle for scrambled eggs," Sarah hands him a plate, grinning knowingly.

"Was I....I was. sorry, kiddo. I'll pick some up later. I've been a bit stressed lately, obviously." Joel sits down at the table and starts quickly eating the eggs. he picks something out of the eggs and holds it up to Sarah. "shell," he says gruffly.

Sarah grins widely with a mouthful of eggs. "calcium."

"lovely," Joel rolls his eyes. "well, i best be off to feed the horses. Uncle Tommy will be by in a few hours to pick you up. love you, kiddo." he plants a soft kiss on the top of her head before discarding his plate into the sink. he grabs his wallet and phone before sliding on his black Ariat boots.

"love you too, dad. good luck," Sarah sticks her tongue out as he slings his backpack over his shoulder.

the short drive to the barn is quiet, with Long, Long, Time by Linda Ronstadt crackling through the old truck radio. Joel pulls into the barn driveway just as the Texas sunshine starts peeking through the darkness, a sight he'll never get tired of. he can already hear the six horses banging against their stall doors from outside, impatient for their morning grain.

he fishes the door key out of his back pocket and opens the door. he's met with a chorus of snorts and nickers as the hungry horses wait impatiently for their grain.

"mornin', ya little glue sticks. you gonna behave well today?" he grins playfully, stopping at Whiskey's stall, the one-eyed, cinnamon-colored Tennessee Walker gelding. he pets the front of Whiskey's face gently, tracing the long white blaze that splits down his face. "guess what, little man? you get to give pony rides," Joel smiles, his eyes soft and full of admiration for this horse. he know Whiskey loves the kids. he's the sweetest horse, always giving you kisses and loving nudges. though he is missing one eye, his other is very expressive.

Joel parts with his favorite horse to go make feeds, scooping a variety of different grains and supplements into the six color-coded buckets.

once the feed is distributed and the horses are happily munching on their food, Joel gets to work. he sweeps the stall aisles clean of hay and manure, then shovels it into a wheelbarrow. while he's dumping it outside, he sees his younger brother Tommy's truck pulling into the driveway. When Tommy and Sarah come inside, Tommy grins, giving his brother a firm hug.

"Ain't this a sight for sore eyes," he whistles lowly. "it's okay big bro. we'll help you get ready."

Joel rolls his eyes. "fuck you."

"da-ad," Sarah grins. "that's a quarter in the swear jar!"

"you're right, kiddo, sorry," Joel mutters, shaking his head.

"alright, big bro, we gotta get to work," Tommy nudges Joel in the shoulder.

back at your apartment, you're awoken by the sun peeking through your floral-patterned curtains. you groan, shielding the light from your eyes with the back of your hand. you pick up your phone, glancing at the time. 10:23. shit. 40 minutes to get ready. a text notification pops up on your phone from Sōl 😜.

Sōl😜~ morning bb! u ready for today?? im picking you up at 11!

morning girlie! just woke up lol. I'll b ready for u! ~you

you turn on your morning playlist and climb out of bed and into the bathroom, where you dance to Take On Me by A-ha while brushing your teeth. you get dressed into faded blue bell bottoms and a yellow tank top with white flowers. you even pull out your blue cowboy boots that you'd stored away in your closet for so many years. you leave your hair down, knowing you'll probably have to wear a riding helmet later.

it's 11:05 when Sōl knocks on your door, and you answer it quickly. She squeals excitedly, pulling you in for a hug.

"babes, you look so goddamn cute! maybe there'll be some hot cowboy at this here grand opening," she smirks.

"as do you, babe! I know one's gonna be there for sure," you grin as you walk out with Sōl and into her car. "did you see the picture of the owner? whoo-ee."

Sōl nudges your shoulder across the center console. "told ya. this was meant to be."

the car ride is full of laughter, Disney songs, and off-key singing, and you finally pull up to the stables along with a few other cars. the barn is a quaint, white wooden structure with periwinkle blue trim around the open barn door and windows. yellow and white flowers hang from around the overhang over the entrance, where a big banner is posted that reads Sarah's Stables in curly cursive handwriting.

"this place is so cute! this Joel guy sure knows how to decorate," Sōl says approvingly, admiring the small concrete horse figurines standing guard outside the door.

you walk into the clean, homey barn to see Joel Miller in the flesh. God, he's even more handsome than he was in the picture.

"welcome in, darlin'!" Joel smiles warmly, shaking your hand. "the name's Joel. so glad to meet you."

you smile widely as you tell him his name. "I'm excited to be here. this place is gorgeous."

"why, thank you, darlin'," Joel grins proudly. he tries to push the thought of how pretty he thinks you are away. "do you ride?"

you bite your lip for a second before nodding. "used to. haven't really been around horses since high school."

"how come?" his dark brown eyes soften, studying your face. Sōl has ran off to see the horses at this point.

"I rode at a few hunter jumper barns on a high level," you explain. "you....probably know how those trainers can be. I didn't exactly want to go back after how they treated me."

Joel nods understandingly. "I know exactly how it is. my parents owned a dressage barn for my whole childhood. everyone's always after everyone's ass and trying to be better than the other and such. it wasn't a healthy environment for me as a kid." "dressage, huh? you seem more like a cowboy to me, Joel," you smile infectiously. "it's the accent, believe me. don't let it fool ya." he chuckles. "oh, there's some new guests. I gotta go introduce myself. there's pony rides, games and drinks outside through that door."

"thanks," you stare after him as he walks away, admiring the way his broad shoulders fill out the sleeves of his navy blue t-shirt. you walk out the door Joel had directed you to, immediately spotting Sōl who is already talking up a storm with a tall, younger blonde man wearing a cowboy hat. you grab a sparkling raspberry lemonade can from the cooler and walk over to them.

"hey, girlie! bout time you made it out here," Sōl grins. "this is Chase. He rides at Cedar Ridge on my team."

he tips his hat to you as you politely tell him your name. you gently nudge Sōl's shoulder. "wanna go look around?"

"sure. see you later, cowboy," Sōl flashes a wink towards Chase, who blushes slightly.

you and Sōl walk the barn aisles, admiring the cleanliness of it. you inhale the mixture of horse, hay, and manure, an odd smell you always found oddly comforting. you take in your surroundings, admiring how beautiful the simplistic decorations are. you peek in the tack room, which is unsurprisingly clean and organized. each intricately stitched saddle sits on its own stand, polished to perfection.

"this place feels...different," you say thoughtfully, peeking into a stall and smiling at the sight of a little chestnut shetland pony.

"different how? awww, look at this cutie." she scrunches her nose up at the shetland, giving his muzzle a little boop.

"I don't know. it feels comforting....like home." you stroll down to the next stall to find a tall black percheron. the small handwritten sign on his stall reads that he's an 18 year old gelding named Amadeus, and he was rescued along with the Shetland from an animal hoarder.

"I see what you mean. feels a lot less fancy and...sterilized than the other barns we've ridden at."

"and the trainer is nicer," you say quietly, tracing the white star on Amadeus's forehead. Sōl raises a knowing eyebrow.

"is someone developing a crush?"

you shoot her a pointed look. "no....no. it's just... refreshing for it to feel like the owner actually cares."

"someone's developing a crush?"

your eyes widen as you hear Joel's voice behind you and you spin around to face him, a flustered expression on your face. "no one," you grin. "just Sōl being a bit of a menace." you try to laugh it off.

Joel smirks and looks over at Sōl who just shrugs innocently. "anyways, I wanted to talk to you before more people come. I'm in dire need of some extra help, having the barn just startin' up and such. you seem to know your stuff, and-" he gestures to Amadeus's calm expression as you pet him. "the horses seem to be relaxed around you."

you purse your lips, taking a deep breath. are you really ready for this? after so long not being around horses....no. you push that thought out of your mind. this place feels good. feels natural.

"of course. i...this opportunity will be good for me. I need to gain confidence around horses again." Joel's eyes crinkle as he smiles, obviously relieved.

"thank you so much, darlin'. you're truly a blessin'. I'll pay you of course. looking forward to see you around."