#but it's dry clean only and fuck going to the dry cleaners

[trans-cuchulainn]

my raincoat is currently in the washing machine for the first time since i bought it in late 2016 because i realised it was probably kind of gross never to have washed it, it just never occurred to me since raincoats are always getting wet and i'm always wearing a lot of layers under them

anyway how often do you wash your raincoat: a poll for boring people

there is no option for more than monthly because i cannot believe anyone would go through the fuss of re-waterproofing the damn thing that often, and also, why would you bother, and also, what are you doing when it rains if your raincoat is always in the wash or drying

i will take recommendations for (uk) brands of waterproofing spray in the tags/comments please, i have to go buy some tomorrow when this thing is dry

[texdallas]

im not generally grossed out by other peoples hygiene but people who just put soap on their hands and then rub their hands on their body in the shower are worse than animals to me. im genuinely fuming at the thought that a large percentage of people use no rag no loofah no exfoliating bar just fucking soap and palms

[melobin]

જ⁀➴ wet 𐙚 seunghan

porn plots masterlist

summary. your pools been getting dirty due to your usual pool cleaner being on holiday, your neighbours notice this and decide to offer you the help of their son, who would you be decline such a charming young man a nice, wet job?

wc. 4.1k

warnings. milf!reader x neighbour seunghan, pool cleaner!seunghan, age gap, reader is older than seunghan, reader is a single mother, reader has big tits. tit fucking, blowjob, riding, mentions of spit, unprotected sex, outdoor sex.

a/n. sorry for taking months .. love you all. manifesting his return soon </3.

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

seunghan wasn’t entirely sure just how he ended up torso deep in his neighbours pool, cleaning out the stray leaves that had made their way to the bottom but he was sure that he couldn’t complain. the heat from the sun was burning his skin and the water from the pool helped cool that off, the gaze of the pretty girl who was laying poolside watching him made his skin heat up too.

he felt set up, in a way at least, he only returned home for a few weeks to visit his parents over the summer yet they’d sold him out to clean his neighbour's pool after you had expressed your worry about it getting dirty from the seasons beginning to change. so no, he wasn’t going to complain. he knew who you were from the countless times he had peaked through your bedroom window late at night, it had coincidentally been built directly facing his. he didn’t think he was a pervert, but he did enjoy watching you. you were attractive and he was going to accept any time he got to spend along side of you.

“hannie?” he heard your soft voice call out to him from the doorway of your home, he turned his head and watched as you walked closer to him, a tray in your hand and your lose cardigan slipping down your shoulders “i made you some lemonade” you placed the tray down on the outdoor table before you sat in one of your deck chairs, body relaxing under the sun as you slipped your cardigan off of you and onto the floor. seunghan tried to stop his eyes from trailing down your body but he couldn’t, the bikini you had worn left little to almost nothing to his imagination.

“thank you” his mouth watered as he spoke to you, he was sure you were looking at his body too. he felt as if there was no need for him to wear a shirt so it left his upper body bare under the blistering sun, water droplets from your pool sliding down his body. seunghan had worked hard for his body and he was glad to see that you were enjoying it.

seunghan himself was enjoying you too, he thoroughly enjoyed watching you pick up a bottle of sun tan oil from the table next to you and squirt some on your hands. the task he had at hand was almost completely forgotten about as you ran your hands over your legs, rubbing them over your thighs and underneath the thin straps of your bikini before moving to our stomach. his mouth went dry as he watched you squirt out a little more and then run your hands over your tits. with how small the bikini top you were wearing was, he was sure that it was one pull away from falling off of you. he was in a daze, one that was only broken by the sound of your voice.

“hannie? you should come and take a break, you’ve been at it for about an hour now”

“how did you know? been watching me?” he watched as you giggled before taking a sip of your own drink.

“it’s not everyday i have such an attractive man cleaning out my pool hannie, give an old girl a break” he stepped out of the pool, your eyes fell to the way the sun caused his torso to shimmer under the light. you had to bite your tongue whilst looking at him, he was far too attractive for you to not be admiring him.

“you’re not old” he laughed as he sat on the chair next to you, sitting on the edge so he could face you “i think you’re in your prime” you turned your head to look at him, your eyes barely peaking out from above your sun glasses as you laughed.

“oh really? i’m flattered” seunghan placed his drink down on the table between your chairs, sitting back so he could rest on his hands and look at you. he watched as you took your sunglasses off, he was sure you done it with the purpose of showing him that you were eyeing up his body “it’s hard to properly relax being a single mom with such a young child, i love that boy more than anything but sometimes it’s nice to sit back and not have a care in the world”

“he’s precious, you’re doing a great job with him and i’d be happy to spend some time with him whilst im home” you smiled at him as he continued, eyes still flicking from his damp body to his face “i’d also be more than happy to help you out with whatever you need too” you smiled again, removing your sunglasses and placing them onto the table. you lifted yourself up, slowly moving your legs until you were sat facing him. you leaned forward slightly, being sure that your tits were being squashed together as you did.

“i appreciate that a lot hannie, really” seunghan knew what you were up to but he let you, making no move to stop you as his eyes fell to your tits “is there anything in particular that you’d like to help me out with?”

“is there anything you need help with? i’m skilled in quite a few different fields” you cocked your head to the side, your bare foot gently gliding against the skin of his leg. seunghan shivered at the contact.

“i can see that you know how to handle things that are” you hummed to yourself before finishing your sentence “wet”.

“one would say it’s my specialty” he watched as you sat up a little straighter, he parted his legs, still leaned back on his hands. he looked inviting, he was inviting.

“care to help out with something then? i’d say it’s a little more than just wet though”

“i’d be more than happy to help out, the wetter the better” you stood up at his response, the small gap that was between you was closed immediately. your knees took place against the soft cushion of the deck chair either side of him, your ass settling against his thighs as you sat on his lap, not yet properly straddling him and because of that seunghan thought you were teasing him, he was sure of it. after all of the other things you had done so far, he knew you were.

he was yet to touch you, he restrained himself from lifting his hands off of the chair and grabbing your waist, wanting nothing more than to feel your soft skin under his rough fingers, but he waited. instead, he let you touch him. he watched the delicate features of your face focus as you ran a finger down his chest, the tip of it bumping over the ridges of his abs before you look at his face.

“you take such good care of yourself hannie” you leaned closer to him, he could feel your tits pressing against his bare chest. seunghan was hard, there was no hiding the bulge that had formed in his shorts, no that he wanted to hide it from you anyway, especially after what you done next. the finger you had on his skin wandered down further, tracing over the bulge in his shorts before you opened your hand and pressed down against it, his head fell back slightly as his lips parted. he saw you smile again before you leaned down to kiss him, that was his breaking point.

the moment he felt your lips against his, he lifted his hands and grabbed your waist, fingers dipping under the thin straps of your bikini as he pulled you closer against him. your hand left the top of his shorts and found themselves in his hair, your barely covered cunt had found itself pressing down against his cock instead.

the kiss was wet, it wasn’t long before seunghan’s tongue was pushing into your mouth and his fingers were pulling you down further against his crotch. it wasn’t everyday seunghan got his hands on someone he could only describe as a complete and utter milf - so he wasn’t letting it go without milking everything he could get from her.

seunghan groaned as he felt your fingers pull on the strands of his hair, your hips not so subtly grinding down against his cock. he gave in, letting his hands drop down to the thickness of your ass. he squeezed the flesh in his hands, the bikini you wore had barely covered any of it and he was grateful for that, loving the fact he could feel every inch of your skin as his fingers dug into it. you moaned against his lips, hips now moving smoothly against his. he basked in the way your soft skin felt against him, only growing harder when he thought about the feeling of your bare skin against his.

you broke the kiss, looking down at him with wet lips as a string of silvia broke in between your mouths. seunghan melted at the way you looked at him, pure lust clouding your vision as you ground yourself down against him.

“hannie” you cooed, fingers wrapped in his hair as your other hand held his cheek, the tips of your freshly manicured nails raking soothingly against his skin. he hummed when you said his name, eyes focused on your lips as you spoke “you’ve worked so hard, won’t you let me reward you now”

“you can do whatever you want” you smiled before you got off of his lap, he watched as you took the pillow off of your chair and placed it on the floor, laughing quietly as he realised you were doing it in order to kneel without hurting your knees. seunghan found it endearing.

he wasn’t entirely sure what you were planning to do, he kept his eyes on you as you leaned forward and stuck your tongue out, pressing it against the his torso before slowly dragging your tongue up his skin, letting it linger between the ridges before pulling back and giggling, you swooned over how nice his body was, loving the way your spit glistened against his skin under the sun light.

your fingers trailed down to his shorts, tips of them pushing under the fabric. you were pleased to discover the lack of briefs he had on underneath, it made pulling his shorts down all the more exciting when you were greeted with his hard cock springing out and weighing down against his stomach. droplets of precum slipped from the tip of his cock and landed on his abs, he placed his hands back behind him on the chair as he leaned back. the sight of him like that, bare with his shorts pooled at his ankles made your mouth water, you wanted to taste him badly.

instead, you held yourself back. you reached out and wrapped your hand around the base of his cock, slowly dragging it up before bringing it back down. seunghan didn’t take his eyes off of you, not wanting to miss a second of what you were going to do, and he was pleasantly surprised when you knelt up. you leaned forward, spitting on the head of his cock before stroking him again, making sure to coat all of his cock in your spit. luckily for you, the oil you applied earlier was still slick on your skin and you knew it would be the perfect lube for what you wanted to do.

your hand tightened around the base of his cock as your brought yourself forward, the fingers of your other hand lifted up the middle of your bikini bra before you slipped his cock beneath it, you let it snap back against it as your breasts closed around his cock. seunghan groaned as you pushed them together around it before lifting them up and bringing them back down. the oil on your body mixed with your spit on his cock made him slide between your tits with ease, the plush flesh of them felt incredible rubbing against the girth of his cock and the subtle roughness of the bikini top strap had him shivering. it wasn’t until you looked down and poked your tongue out, letting it graze along the head of his cock that a groan left his lips, the heavy breathing transitioned into deep groans as he tipped his head back and basked in the feeling of you.

the longer it went on, the quicker you moved, stroking his cock with your tits until he couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore and as much as you enjoyed watching him struggle to stay alert, that wouldn’t do. you needed his full attention on you, his eyes on you. so you stopped, it caught seunghan’s attention right away, he could feel the soft skin of your breasts hugging his cock as he looked down at you. he was interrupted as he went to speak, his lips closing as he watched you reach behind your back and pull at the string of your bikini, letting it fall onto the floor and showcasing your breasts to him. seunghan watched you carefully as you wrapped your hand around his cock and brushed the side of it along your nipple, letting him feel the hardened bud for a few moments before pulling it away.

you never let go of his cock, instead you leaned toward him and wrapped your lips around the tip of it, lifting them so you could spit on the head before taking it into your mouth again. you slowly sank your mouth down his cock, immediately taking him as far as you could before lifting your head and doing it again, the speed of your actions increasing as you got into it. the salty taste of his precum melted on your tongue and his voice melted in your ears. even if you were only going to get him once, you were going to show him why older women are always better.

you lifted your head off of his cock before spitting on it again, wanting it as wet and messy as possible as you licked up the side of it before eagerly taking him back into your mouth. your head sinking down all the way on him once you did, deep throating his cock until your eyes were lining with tears and your throat was almost burning. when you lifted back up you went back down, seunghan basked in the low gagging sound you made when his cock hit the back of your throat. he was sure after this time with you he’d become utterly obsessed with you.

you let him lace a hand into your hair and push your head down on him, he wasn’t controlling you but he was ushering you to take him deeper into your mouth, so you did. you took him as deep as you could again, you felt spit begin to dribble from the corners of your mouth. his hips bucked up slightly and he groaned out your name, curses following. he was close, but that didn’t stop you. in fact, it spurred you on more, wanting nothing more than to feel his cum melting against your tongue.

so once you knew it was time, you placed your hands on his thighs and took all of him into your mouth, letting him go as deep as possible before stilling around him, gulping as you felt the first parts of his orgasm hit your throat. you gagged, but continued taking him, your nails digging into his thighs as you did. everything about the moment drove seunghan absolutely fucking insane, from the way you took his cock with ease and eagerly swallowed each and every drop of his cum as if it were your favourite meal to the way your nipples rubbed against his leg, he was losing his mind.

seunghan watched as you slowly lifted your mouth off of his cock, a few droplets of his cum mixed with your spit dripped down the side of it. once you lifted your head to look at him seunghan felt his heart drop to his stomach, his cock barely staying soft when he saw your wide eyes and sweet smile, his cum staining the swell of your lips and dripping down your chin. he leaned forward, running his thumb over the lose liquid and pushing it into your mouth, groaning when you eagerly sucked it off of the muscle. once you pulled your lips off of his thumb with a pop, you leaned back, smiling lazily at him.

“men my age don’t taste that good” you sighed, cocking your head to the side and grinning again, seunghan could still see traces of his cum sat on your tongue.

“girls my age don’t suck me off that good”

“what can i say” you stood up, pressing your hands harder against his knees so you could. seunghan looked at you, his own hands instantly going to the bare skin of your waist. he pulled you closer to him, pressing an open mouthed kiss against the skin of your stomach “older girls do it better hannie” you laced your fingers through his hair and smiled down at him, he smiled back as his fingers trailed down your sides and stopped at the thin, tied straps of your bikini underwear. you watched him as he pulled both sides of the straps at the same time, allowing your underwear to fall onto the floor alongside your bra that you had discarded not too long before. his fingers crawled around your skin and grabbed your bare ass, spreading your cheeks before digging his nails into your skin.

“want to show me what else older girls are good at?” you smiled as he kissed your skin again before letting go.

“lay down for me hannie” he listened to you, laying back on the deck chair and watching you straddled his lap. his cock lay red and hard against his stomach which made it easy for you to press yourself against it. you reached down, separating the lips of your pussy before grinding down against the length of his cock, moaning when you felt the head bump against your slick cunt. you ground yourself against him again before wrapping your hand around his cock and standing it up, readying yourself to sink down on him.

you let your head fall back and your lips part as you felt the head of his cock fill you up, you whimpered as you sank down on him, being sure to take every inch of him before resting your hands against his chest to steady yourself. seunghan groan as you leaned down to kiss him, your hips slowly lifting before moving back down. he appreciated the way you took your time to adjust to the size of him, falling in love with the way your cunt swallowed his cock with ease.

you pushed your tongue into his mouth, your hips beginning to bounce a little quicker against him. he let out a deep moan into your mouth, almost unable to kiss you back due to the way the lips of your pussy were gripping his cock. you ran your fingers up his body, stopping as you gripped his shoulders, breaking the kiss so you could lay your head on his chest.

you dug your fingers into his skin and bounced your hips quicker on him, coming down harder each time. you made sure to rotate your hips as you fucked tourself on him and due to the incline of the chair, seunghan had a perfect view of the way your ass shook each time you did so. he was in awe, lips parted as he groaned lowly at the way your ass looked and how you felt, squeezing him tightly whilst keeping him completely and utterly drenched.

the moans you let out were sweet to his ears, the way you whined out his name only turned him on more. he loved watching you have your way with him and show him what you can do because god, you could do things, but he wanted to take control of you. he needed it. so his grip tightened on your hips, he used his strength to stop you from moving causing you to lift your head up and look down at him, your eyes wide with curiosity. he spoke before you could.

“i might die if i don’t get to fuck you myself” you giggled, slowly lifting yourself off of his cock with a whimper, hearing it slap against his stomach as you climbed off of him. you weren’t sure how he wanted you but seunghan wasn’t afraid of manhandling you in order to show you.

he stood up, grabbing you before laying you down in the deck chair, putting you where he was before he grabbed your legs and lifted them. he pushed them up, placing his feet on the chair as he put your legs over his shoulders, your ankles close to his lips. he grabbed the top of the chair with one hand whilst grabbing his cock with the other, guiding it inside of you before grabbing the top of the chair with that hand too. the position he had you in made you vulnerable, completely bare for him to do what he wanted. he filled you up immediately, not taking his time to push all the way into you before thrusting into you properly. his squatting position made it easy for him to fuck his hips against yours and push his cock as deep as he possibly could.

you grabbed onto his shoulders, pressing your fingers into his skin as you cried out, not bothering to care for the fact someone could hear you or potentially even see you. you didn’t care. no one had ever put you in such a position before, you didn’t even know you were flexible enough to do it, especially at your age. but here you were, body bent in half as seunghan had his way with you. you loved it. seunghan made you feel young again, looked at you and treated you as if you were made of diamonds. a pure gem in a sea of stones. you couldn’t get enough of him.

his hands left the top of the chair and went under you, he gripped your ass and tilted it up a little, somehow driving even deeper into you as he fucked you merciliessly, you were sure the chair under you could’ve broken with the way it was squeaking. the squeaking was barely noticeable though, the other thing seunghan was focused on was you and the way you were crying out for him with each deep, sharp thrust.

he was sweating at this point, the sun beaming down onto the two of you only made the moment even hotter. his skin heating up and his blood boiling, all of it seemingly rushing into his cock as the flesh of your walls tightened around him. he continued looking down at you, his forehead almost pressed against yours with how close he was to you. he could see in your eyes that you were weakening, he could tell from your voice that you were close and seunghan couldn’t wait to experience the feeling of you releasing around him, squeezing him so tightly and using him to draw out your own orgasm.

“hannie i’m getting close” your voice was broken, seunghan simply groaned at the sound of you before moving his hands one last time. one of them returned to its place holding onto the top of the chair and the other moved to your clit, thumb pressing against the soaked bud and rubbing circles against it. you cried out again, your nails digging deeper into his shoulders as your eyes closed “fuck i’m gonna cum hannie i’m gonna cum please don’t stop” your rambling spurred him on to continue, wanting to drive you completely over the edge, and that’s just what he done.

seunghan knew he had hit the jackpot when he felt your slick soak his stomach and thighs, you squirted. he made you squirt. seunghan simply groaned and fucked you harder, taking you through the extreme sensitivity as he let your tightened cunt milk out his own orgasm.

you were worn out, tired as he spilt his cum into you. slowly pulling out and resting your legs back onto the chair before he went to stand up, but you stopped him, signalling him to join you on the chair. it’s how he ended up with his head against your tits and his lips ghosting over the skin there. you played with his hair, humming as you let your body recover.

seunghan wasn’t sure if you were going to hire him to do your pool again, but one thing was for sure, seunghan was never going for a girl his own age again.

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[cheesecakethots]

Maybe your intuition was right about this job.

You were broke, only a few days away from having to live on the streets, streets where dangerous men lurked waiting for an opportunity to snap up young women like you.

You remember shivering at the thought, and so when you saw a job opportunity at some nearby hotel, you thought you were saved. It paid pretty well considering you were only coming in to be a cleaner, but you were quick to realise why.

Gangs and mafia had wormed their way into the very foundations of your city. You were hired to clean and keep your mouth shut if you saw anything. Up until now, you hadn’t seen anything, thank god.

Despite your guilty conscience, you continued working, making a habit of bringing in headphones just so you could block everything out.

You regret every decision you’ve made that has led up to this moment.

You’re practically plastered against the wall, eyes wide and body trembling. The headphones you usually wear are still blasting some pop song, but it’s practically white noise compared to the sounds of crying, screaming and groaning.

It’s a bloodbath. Quite literally too. You can feel pools of it soaking into your cheap shoes, which doesn’t help the sickness in your stomach.

The man, if you can even call him that, still hasn’t noticed you. You won’t be surprised if he turns around and reveals himself to be some bear-man mutant thing. He’s fucking massive, despite the fact that he’s currently sat down, boredly snapping bones. You’re extremely lucky he hadn’t heard your mop drop to the floor after you walked into the carnage.

Fucking move! Move! Move!

You don’t. You stand still like an idiot.

“Are you going to say anything, little lady?”

Now you just might throw up.

He turns his head to the side and watches you with one eye, a grin on his lips. He chuckles a little, before standing.

By fucking god he’s huge. Your knees become wobbly within an instant.

“Hm. I don’t think you should be here, girlie.”

“I-I work here,” you stammer out.

He raises an eyebrow, turning to face you a little more, the grin on his lips widening.

“Is that so?”

He stands to his feet, casually crushing the head of some poor man under his boot. Your eyes divert to the ceiling, struggling to find a spot that isn’t covered in splatters of blood.

“I gotta admit, you don’t look the type to be working here.”

There’s a spot. It’s grimy, and there’s a dull light that looks like it has dead bugs in it.

“I-I need the money, and it’s only- it’s only cleaning.”

Another wry laugh, “Cleaning, huh? Tell me, do you think you can clean all this?”

The light flickers a little. Someone should check that out, but not you, you’d be hopeless with it.

“Maybe for a raise,” you mumble.

He laughs again. That’s good right? He must think you’re funny. Or maybe he thinks the thought of splattering your intestines across the wall is funny.

The spot on the ceiling becomes all the harder to focus on when he’s right in front of you, tall enough to reach your line of sight despite the fact you’re basically looking straight up.

There’s a bit of blood in the toothy smirk he wears, a fact that makes your stomach sink even lower. “You not gonna run?”

You don’t even realise you’re crying until you hear your own pathetic sniffles, “Wha-What would be the p-point?”

He pouts mockingly, the amusement in his eyes clear as day, and you flinch harshly at the sight of his massive hand raising towards you, a sharp breath of air entering your lips and your headphones clattering to the floor.

The hand slowly pats your head, and the heaviness of it reminds you of the fact he could so easily crush your skull. You can feel the blood from him dripping into your hair.

“You’re cute, you know that? In a bit of a pathetic way.”

How lovely of him. You’re not really sure if you should say thanks.

You gulp, and it scratches at your dry throat painfully. “I-I won’t te-tell any-“

“Ya got a boyfriend? Maybe even a girlfriend?”

Only spluttered and clipped words leave you, and so you settle for shaking your head.

The hand on your head crawls down your face, akin to a spider, before eventually settling on cupping your cheek.

“Yeah, I figured. I mean, no offence. If I had a pretty thing like you I wouldn’t let you work in a place like this,” he motions to the hellhole behind him, before glancing back down at you with slightly narrowed eyes. “Hell, I doubt I would even let you out of the house. You’re too cute for your own good.”

God. Why didn’t you just tell your coworker to find someone else to cover? Why, why, why?

A rough thumb wipes under your eyes, creating a thin layer of blood, sweat and tears on your skin.

“Awe, no need to cry,” he coos, and you yelp when his other hand encircles around your waist, tugging you against him.

“I’ll take care of ya.”

[writingfromasgard]

It's horny o clock for meeeeee.

cw: sex toy usage, simon-pov, anal mention

[Masterlist] || Requests are Open

GIF by hollow-epitaph

The package laying on Ghost's coffee table isn't getting any better the longer he stares. He's certain there was a mix up or mistake in the ordering. Why would you have a sex toy delivered? The other contents of the box include toy-safe cleaner, lube, and a cock ring that you've spoken about more than once.

He scoops up the instructions, wondering if maybe there's a hidden message. When he decides that there isn't, a plan half-forms in his mind. You want him to use the damned thing? Fine, he'll use it and send you proof.

He follows each line of instruction, cleaning the toy then patting it dry with the microfiber cloth included. More than once in the process he thought about chucking it out the window. He knows it won't be as satisfying as you are.

Finding an angle that works with his phone to record only his cock and the doll is tricky. In his mind, the doll is you. He pushes aside how the skin feels too soft and pliant.

Ghost squirts lube onto his finger tips, spreading it before following the crack of your ass. There's a slick trail down to your pussy and he doesn't want to waste time, shoving his fingers inside.

He can hear you protest about him slipping in three fingers at once - "S'lright, you can take it. Need to if you want m' cock."

His fingers are drawing out squelching noises as he teases you, curling fingers inside to touch that spot that makes you go crazy. He hears the moans and gasps, even swears he feels you moving against his hand. He waits until he can see the glistening lips, until his fingers easily glide in and out of you, to place his cock at your entrance.

Your dripping pussy swallows the head of his cock so easily. He groans, only fucking the tip into you. He grips your cheeks, spreading them apart to spit on your ass.

"Be good f'me and I'll fuck your ass next." He slams his full length into you with that one line.

He thrusts deep each time, balls slapping against your clit. He can see you clawing at the sheets under you, struggling to take the weight of his thrusts. Your begging fall on deaf ears as he speeds up, grunting out your name.

Ghost gets lost in his fantasy, roughing fucking your pussy. His fingers dig into your cheeks, holding you down with his body weight. His muscles start to burn from the effort, sweat dripping down his spine. He grits his teeth, closing his eyes to dive further into his fantasy.

His balls tighten, ready to empty themselves into your empty cunt. He pulls out, pressing the tip into your ass with a deep groan. He erupts, watching the throb move down his cock. He sucks on his bottom lip, pulling back to see the cum ooze down the crack.

He scoops up the phone, showing off his handiwork. "You're next."

[alwaysmicado]

Sunshine

6.7k | 18+ MDNI | fwb!Joel Miller x f!reader | pt. 7

Warnings: no outbreak AU, implied age gap, alcohol & painkillers, a little kiss, lots of sarcasm, angst, jealousy (reader would never!) Summary: A spontaneous meeting in a bar lays bare some uncomfortable truths. A/N: Why be sad when you can just turn off your feelings and not be sad anymore? It’s so easy. /s I can't tell you how much your messages about this series mean to me!! I love talking to you about it and I appreciate your enthusiasm and support soooo much!! Enjoy this part and let me know your thoughts! 🤍

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The Birds Don’t Sing, They Screech in Pain

– Werner Herzog

– – –

You don’t have feelings. You don’t have a heart. The world is a joke and nothing you do matters.

And you got a great ass. 

So fuck it.

You close the mirror cabinet and look at your reflection. The steam from your recent shower lingers in the air, creating a hazy atmosphere around you. With a determined gaze, you meet your own eyes, trying to convince yourself of what you so desperately want to believe. 

You. Don’t. Have. Feelings. 

Sighing exasperatedly, you leave the bathroom to go get dressed. You eye the empty space on the wall where the mirror used to hang in passing and can’t help but smile sardonically at the clean floor below. Who knew you had such a talent for cleaning blood? 

If your current job doesn’t work out in the long run, crime scene cleaner could be a viable alternative.

You rummage through your drawer for a fresh pair of panties, a soft bralette without any bothersome hooks, and a flowy dress you can easily pull over your head. Comfort is key today. Your morning shower proved tricky enough, but you managed somehow, maneuvering very ungracefully to keep your injured hand dry. 

Thankfully, you were smart enough to go to bed early last night and get up in time this morning, allowing you ample time to change the bandages and dress yourself with just one functional hand.

Exhaustion still lingers in every single one of your bones, but you’re determined to not let it get you down. Not again. So, you pour yourself a cup of strong coffee, sit outside on your balcony, pop the painkillers you got at the emergency clinic on Sunday, and browse the internet for a new mirror.

The sun kissing your skin feels nice, and the fresh air invigorates your senses. There’s even a flock of birds doing their choreographed dance in the sky. Just for you. You’re living in a goddamn dream, aren’t you? 

You scoff, down the rest of your coffee, cough when it goes down the wrong pipe, and go back inside once you don’t feel like you’re choking to death anymore. It’s time for work.

Your boss graciously let you work from home on Monday and Tuesday, but since there’s an important meeting scheduled this morning, she’s asked you to come to the office today. The meds should get you through the day, you’ll just have to figure out how to do your job effectively without the ability to type with your right hand.

You could try to push some of your workload onto the new intern who’s been unsuccessfully trying to flirt with you for the past month, but he strikes you as the type to show up with flowers and a teddy bear after you compliment his sneakers once — it’s probably not the best idea to entertain him.

An office romance sounds hot on paper, but your job is the only halfway stable thing in your life, so you don’t want to mess it up for some guy. Especially if said guy looks young enough to get carded in bars.

Why can’t you just not need money and not have to go to work at all? Is that really too much to ask? 

“Get your shit together,” you murmur to yourself as you grab your bag, your keys, and quickly check your appearance in the bathroom mirror. Eh, you look fine considering the messed-up past few days you had. The black wrist brace is kind of derpy—you can already see Kristen giggling at it and very much not believing any excuse you invent for it—but the smile you force onto your face looks virtually natural. 

What a little sunshine you are. 

Sandals on your feet, sunglasses sitting on your nose, wireless earbuds in your ears, your top three songs of the week on a blissful loop, you start your walk to the office. Nothing bad can touch you when the rhythm of your favorite beats courses through your veins, encapsulating you in an invincible cocoon.

For the first few minutes at least.

Your pulse quickens and your chest tightens as the gas station, where Joel could barely wait to pull out of you before gushing about his date, comes into view. And of course, Chris, the clerk, steps outside right as you pass it to inexplicably water the two withered plants next to the entrance.

You attempt to speed walk, hoping to avoid an embarrassing encounter, but where’s the fun in that, right? Sure enough, you hear him calling after you.

You roll your eyes behind your glasses and reluctantly stop, pulling out one of your earbuds as you turn to face him. His eyes fixate on the black brace around your wrist.

“What happened to your hand? Too much fun on the weekend?” he asks, a mischievous grin playing on his lips.

You sigh, not in the mood for a detailed conversation, and also very much aware of what he’s probably insinuating. “Just a little accident at home,” you reply, keeping it vague. “Don’t do yoga if you’re drunk.”

He chuckles. “I’ll keep that in mind.” When he realizes you’re not going to say anything else, he’s nice enough to not keep you any longer. “Well, I hope it heals soon. And let me know if you, uh, need anything. You know where to find me.”

You nod, offering a polite smile, and continue on your way, reinserting the earbud to drown out the world. You turn up the volume, lip-sync, and ignore Joel’s call without missing a beat.

– – –

“Please, tell me. Please, please, please. Come on…you know you’re gonna tell me eventually, so let’s just save us some time and get it over with. You know I can keep a secret.”

As expected, Kristen is very intrigued by your wrist brace. In fact, she has been switching between begging for you to tell her what happened and coming up with some outlandish theories since you sat down at your desk four hours ago. To nobody’s surprise, they all involve some sort of sex accident. 

It’s kind of funny, though, that none of the elaborate stories she imagines come close to capturing the absurdity of your reality. Oh well, you’re used to it by now. And yet, there’s no way in hell you’re going to divulge one of your most vulnerable and embarrassing moments to her. Not a chance. 

“I already told you,” you say without stopping your one-handed typing. “I got drunk watching The Bachelor and then my genius brain decided that was the perfect moment to try out some new yoga positions. It’s a miracle I only sprained my wrist and didn’t break my neck.” You put on your most convincing smile and look at her. “It’s embarrassing as shit, okay? I mean, look at this thing,” you point at your injured hand. “I look like a kid who fell off a swing on the playground.”

Kristen giggles and is about to say something, but right at that moment, she receives a phone call from a client. She sighs, narrows her eyes, and mouths, “This is not over.” You wink at her and go back to typing with your left hand, occasionally swearing under your breath when you hit the wrong keys. This is all so much fun. 

The rest of the day goes by in a blur of emails, phone calls, bad coffee, painkillers, Kristen putting a heart sticker on your wrist brace, another meeting, and your phone lighting up with new messages from Joel. 

By 5:30 p.m. your brain is about to explode, so you decide to call it a day and leave. There’s a frozen pizza waiting for you at home and you can hear your pajamas and sofa calling your name. Sweet, sweet solitude; it’s so close you can feel it. You just have to walk out fast eno–

“Drinks.”

“Did you seriously just hide behind that plant and jump out?” you chuckle, and Kristen’s grin tells you that is absolutely, one hundred percent what just happened. 

“Drinks,” she repeats. And when you open your mouth, she says it again, but this time she gives you her most adorable pout.

“Okay, okay,” you say with a playful roll of your eyes. “You can stop the puppy routine.”

“I love how easy you are,” she beams at you and plants a kiss on your cheek. “Let’s go!”

The warmth of the summer evening envelops you both as you step outside. The sun, still casting its golden hues across the city, paints the urban landscape with a vibrant palette. Kristen, with a fancy sun hat perched on her head that perfectly complements her black hair, looks for bars near you on her phone.

As you try to decide on a bar, the balmy air carries the distant sounds of the city’s summer symphony. The occasional laughter from a nearby cafe mingles with the hum of traffic, creating a lively backdrop to your anticipation.

Amidst the ambient noise, your phone buzzes with Tommy’s name flashing on the screen. You answer, bringing the phone to your ear.

“Hi Tommy.”

“Hi honey,” Tommy’s voice comes through, the background noise indicating he’s at a lively place. “Just calling to ask how you’re doing today.”

“You know you don’t need to call me every day to ask me that, right?” you chuckle, still unable to understand why he even cares. You don’t deserve him.

“Come on, it’s the highlight of my day,” he says in mock offense, and you can perfectly picture the grin on his face. 

“Well, if it’s that important to you…” you say, a smile on your lips. “I’m good. My friend and I are going for drinks. Just need to decide on a bar first.”

“What a perfect coincidence! I’m at this new place right now. They got great burgers and drinks, even non-alcoholic stuff,” he tells you excitedly. “Oh and Joel’s here, too.”

Your heart skips a beat at Tommy’s words. Joel is there, at the same place. The thought of seeing him again stirs a concoction of emotions within you — longing, uncertainty, and a subtle yearning for things to be okay. There’s an undeniable pull. You miss him.

As you take a moment to think of your answer, Kristen mouths, “Who’s that?”

“It’s my friend, and he’s inviting us to join him at a bar,” you explain to her.

Tommy’s voice perks up on the phone, “Come on, it’ll be a blast. The more, the merrier!”

You look at Kristen questioningly, and she gives you two thumbs up and a big smile. 

You sigh and look up at the sky. There’s a big bird chasing a smaller one. “Okay, we’re in,” you say to Tommy, and his excited shouts in your ear make you giggle. He sends you the location and you immediately order an Uber for you and Kristen. You don’t have to wait for long.

Sitting in the car, your initial, albeit reluctant, excitement has turned into annoyance as the hands of the clock seem to move at an agonizingly slow pace. What was supposed to be a ten-minute journey has stretched into an interminable thirty minutes, courtesy of the unrelenting rush hour traffic. 

The air inside the car feels stifling, even with the AC humming, and the incessant chatter about football between the driver and Kristen becomes an indistinct drone. Your lack of interest in the sport combines with the whirlwind in your head, making their conversation an incomprehensible blur.

As your stomach churns, a sense of queasiness settles over you, intensifying the already uncomfortable ride.

By the time you make it to the bar, you’re tired, cranky, and wish you had just gone home after work. You could be lying on your sofa right now, stuffing your face with pizza, watching Netflix, and testing your new vibrator before falling asleep in your soft bed. But no, you just had to be social, hm?

As you enter the crowded and lively bar, the buzz of upbeat chatter, clinking glasses, and the rhythmic thump of music surrounds you. Everyone’s loud and happy, and you’re just not in the right mood for it. Slowly making your way through the sea of faces with Kristen trailing behind, you spot Tommy seated in a cozy booth.

The mere sight of him puts you at ease — for about a second, that is.

Your eyes fall onto Joel and the woman who’s casually touching his shoulder, comfortably nestled against the plush cushioned seats. You’ve never seen her before, but it doesn’t take a rocket scientist or even a sober brain to figure out who she is. What is she whispering into his ear now? He’s laughing. You can see his eye crinkles from where you’re standing.

The sight is like a punch to your gut.

For a moment, you’re frozen in place, and the urge to turn around and run away grips you. Unwelcome emotions and memories surge back, catching you off guard and leaving you breathless. Just as you contemplate an escape route, Tommy spots you from across the room, his face lighting up. 

“Sweetheart,” he shouts, rising from his seat and waving enthusiastically. His excited shout draws the attention of everyone around him, including Joel. Your eyes lock, and for a brief moment, the world around you fades. The corners of his lips instinctively turn upwards as he looks at you, but after spotting your wrist brace and the pained look on your face, he furrows his brow.

What the hell happened to you?

In the blink of an eye, you flip a switch in your brain, put on the most radiant smile you can muster, straighten your shoulders and cross the room. Joel’s concerned eyes don’t leave you for a second.

“There she is,” Tommy says, genuine warmth in his voice as he leans in to plant a kiss on your cheek, followed by a tight, comforting hug. “It’s so good to see you.” 

“You too, Tommy,” you murmur, a sense of momentary relief washing over you in the wake of his presence.

He pulls away from the hug, extending his greeting to Kristen, before introducing you both to the beautiful brunette sitting next to his brother. Draping his arm around your shoulders, he tells you with a smile that, “This is Jan, an old school friend of mine. We actually didn’t plan this whole meeting with everyone, somehow we just all ended up here. Funny coincidence,” he chuckles and you strain the muscles around your mouth so hard it hurts.  

“It’s nice to meet you, Jan,” you say, reaching out to shake her hand. She reciprocates your greeting and gives you a charming smile. 

“And I don’t need to introduce you to this guy, huh?” Tommy grins, squeezing your shoulder.

Your gaze shifts to Joel, who’s caught in the limbo of whether to remain seated or stand up, so he ends up awkwardly half-standing, caged in the narrow space between the bench and table.

“Hi, Joel,” you say, your eyes lacking their usual vivacity—a detail not lost on him.

He settles back into his seat, audibly clearing his throat. “Hi, darlin’.”

He studies your face as you settle down beside Tommy. You look as beautiful and glowing as always, but the longer he looks, the more cracks in the carefully put up facade he can see. Your smile isn’t genuine, your eyes look a bit swollen—like you’ve been crying or not sleeping well—and your body language screams unease.

The others may not notice, but he does. Because he knows you.

Kristen takes a seat beside Jan, seamlessly weaving herself into the ongoing conversation with Joel. Her ability to navigate social dynamics with such ease leaves you marveling – how is she so good at this? Her charm extends, connecting the trio in animated small talk.

Your body eases into a semblance of relaxation as Tommy pulls you closer and presses a kiss on the crown of your head. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” he whispers into your hair, a tender reassurance that brings a sense of solace.

Sitting up straight, you return his smile, gratitude evident in your eyes. “Thanks to you.”

Tommy beams at you, momentarily lost in the exchange, before redirecting his attention to the group. “Are you guys ready for a first round of drinks?” he asks, the unison response from everyone echoing with enthusiasm, a collective “yes” that adds a burst of energy to the already vibrant atmosphere. 

– – –

After three rounds of drinks (you very responsibly decided to change to coke after one mojito), burgers, nachos, sharing the epic tale of how you managed to hurt your hand doing yoga, Jan gossiping about the guy her adult daughter brought home last week, Tommy sharing hilarious stories from his and Joel’s workplace, and everyone seemingly having loads of fun, you let yourself relax a bit.

It’s nice witnessing Joel’s laughter and enjoyment. A warmth spreads through your heart at the sight, a flicker of happiness for him. Yet, the subtle discomfort lingers as Jan’s touch becomes a constant presence on his arm. Rationalizing it as a casual gesture during conversation and under the influence of drinks doesn’t fully erase the twinge of unease settling within you.

But you can handle it, you convince yourself.

Until you can’t. 

You can’t handle it when Jan’s hand finds its way to Joel’s thigh and her lips brush the shell of his ear.

You glance at Joel, searching for a reaction, a flicker of discomfort perhaps, but his response is subtle. A shift in his seat, a movement so slight it could be mistaken for a casual adjustment, yet there’s a discernible change in his demeanor. It’s a momentary pause, a beat in the rhythm of the evening.

The weight of the scene bears down on you, and you feel a pang of vulnerability, a subtle ache in your chest. In that split second, a mix of emotions surges within you – a tinge of hurt, a brush of jealousy, and a sting of betrayal.

Emotions you haven’t felt in years. Emotions you have sworn to yourself you’d never feel again.

Why does it bother you so much? Is it because it reminds you of how you touched him, how you ran your hand further and further up his thigh when he was taking you home for the first time, teasing him until he couldn’t take it anymore, pulled his car over and fucked you in the driver’s seat? Has she done that with him? Is she as addictive as you are?

This close to a full-blown panic attack, you jump up from your seat to the surprise of everyone at your table. You make brief eye contact with Kristen, who shoots you a sympathetic look. 

Excusing yourself, you navigate through the bustling crowd towards the restrooms, located downstairs and accessible via a staircase. There are three separate spacious restrooms, and you choose the first one. Inside, you immediately head to the sink, running your left hand under cold water. The sensation helps to calm you down.

Closing your eyes, you take deep breaths, reassuring yourself that it’s not a big deal, and that it’s exactly what it was always meant to be—probably even for the best.

Then, as you try to find composure, a knock on the door interrupts your thoughts.

“Occupied!” you yell in response to the knock, and then you hear Joel’s deep voice saying, “It’s me.” 

Of course it is.

You sigh exasperatedly and shuffle to the door to let him in. Joel enters, swiftly locking the door behind him.

“There’s two other restrooms, you know,” you murmur as you walk back to the sink and divert your attention to your reflection in the mirror, concentrating on fixing your hair. 

“Yeah, well, I specifically want the one with you in it,” he says with a little smirk, his eyes searching for yours in the mirror. As your gaze meets his, he’s taken aback by the lack of the usual sparkle that used to light up your eyes at the sight of him. The absence of that adoration he’s grown accustomed to leaves a void, and a tinge of concern creeps into his expression.

“Hey,” he says tentatively, his voice softer than before. “Are you okay, darlin’?”

You look at him, and the weariness in your eyes doesn’t escape his attention. There’s a distant quality to your gaze, and it sends a pang of worry through him. The connection he once felt in your eyes seems to have dimmed, and he can’t help but feel a sense of loss.

It’s the same expression you had when he last saw you. He hates it.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you respond, putting on your fake smile again, but the lack of conviction in your voice doesn’t go unnoticed.

Joel’s concern deepens as he steps closer, the teasing smirk replaced by genuine worry. “I’ve been trying to reach you, but you haven’t responded to any of my texts or calls.” He rubs the back of his neck and clears his throat, his brow furrowed. “I was worried something happened, and—he points at your injured hand—my feeling was right.” He tilts his head and studies your face. “What happened?”

You turn around and lean against the sink, holding your right arm with your left hand, your eyes revealing a complex mixture of emotions. “I told you already,” you say nonchalantly. “Getting drunk and trying to do elaborate yoga poses is a dumb idea if you’re as clumsy as me.”

Joel raises his eyebrows, not believing a word you’re saying. “That’s not all, is it?”

“What do you mean?” you say, feigning ignorance.

“You don’t seem like yourself and I’m…worried about you.” Joel’s concern etches lines on his forehead as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. His eyes, usually warm and comforting, narrow slightly as he studies your seemingly cheerful facade.

“But this is myself.” You point at your smiley face with your left hand and tilt your head. “You don’t like it?”

He shakes his head, a subtle sigh escaping him. “That’s not what I said. I just feel like something’s off.”

“Is it because I’m happy?”

“It’s because I don’t believe you’re happy. I know you too well, baby.”

You scoff, a defensive edge creeping into your voice. “Why is it so hard for you to believe that I’m happy? Do you want me to be miserable?”

“No, sweetheart. There’s nothing I want more than for you to be happy. But you’re lying to my face right now and I don’t appreciate that.”

You turn your head to avoid his gaze, your silence speaking volumes, your hand tightly gripping the flesh of your arm as if to contain the emotional turmoil threatening to spill over.

Stop it.

“Darlin’,” Joel says gently, closing the physical gap between you two, and reaching out to place his warm palms on your shoulders. “Look at me.”

A shiver runs down your spine and tiny goosebumps instantly form on your skin. You’ve missed his touch more than you care to admit — to yourself or to him. His touch is tender, a plea for connection, but you hesitate. Reluctantly, you meet his gaze, revealing the deep sadness you tried to conceal.

What happened to you? Whatever it was, it breaks his heart that he wasn’t there to protect you.

“Why didn’t you call me?” he asks softly.

“Not everything’s about you, Joel.”

“I know that. I just…wish you would let me know what’s going on.” His touch becomes a subconscious reassurance as he absentmindedly rubs your arms, as if trying to make sure you’re really there in front of him.

“Why do I owe you that? Why do I owe you every shitty detail of my life while I know virtually nothing about you?” you say a little sharper than intended. 

Joel takes a deep breath. “You don’t owe me anything. I just thought–” he pauses, searching your eyes. “I miss seeing that spark in your eyes when you look at me,” he admits, his thumb gently brushing against your cheek. “I never fully realized how much it meant to me until now.”

You take a moment to process his words and his touch as frustration bubbles up inside you. Your heart aches.

“Why are you doing this?” 

“Doing what? Caring about you?”

“Ruining the mood.” You shake your head, swallowing what you actually want to say, any traces of happiness erased from your face. “If you’re trying to make me feel bad, it’s starting to work.”

“I’m not trying to make you feel bad. I’m trying to understand what’s happened since the last time I saw you.” He tilts his head and studies your face, genuine concern in his eyes. 

All you can see, though, is disappointment. He’s disappointed in you, you can sense it. And how could he not be? You’re a liability, a mess. Looks like he’s finally seeing you for who you are, and that’s why he replaced you.

“And now’s the best time to do that?” you scoff, averting your gaze and looking around. 

“What am I supposed to do when you don’t respond to me for days on end and this is my only chance of talking to you?”

You look back into his eyes. “How about leaving it alone?”

“I can’t do that. Not when it comes to you,” he says, shaking his head and moving closer, his cologne filling your senses like a familiar embrace. His hands trace the contours of your neck, a gentle and deliberate touch that ignites a cascade of sensations. His thumbs brush your cheekbones with a tenderness that speaks of longing, his gaze dropping to your lips before finding your eyes again.

In that charged moment, the air between you thickens with unspoken desires before you both succumb to the magnetic pull drawing you together. Your heartbeat quickens, matching the rhythm of anticipation. Without breaking eye contact, he closes the remaining distance, his lips meeting yours in a soft yet passionate kiss. The familiar sensation of his lips on yours is both electric and comforting, and you allow yourself to get lost in it for a bit.

As he eases away, his fingers trail lightly down your neck and arms, leaving a tingling sensation in their wake. There’s a soft smile on his lips as he breaks the silence. 

“I mean it when I say I care about you and want the best for you, darlin’,” he murmurs. “And you don’t have to tell me any details about what happened if you’re not ready yet, but I need to know what made you not want to call me. We’ve been there for each other in difficult situations before, so I just really don’t get it.”

You raise a skeptical eyebrow, frustration and anger intertwining with the lingering memory of his lips on yours.

“Why in the world would I ever call you while you’re on a date?” you say quietly, a steely edge in your voice, no trace of a smile to be found on your lips.

Oh. So it did bother you. 

Joel’s expression shifts from concern to a momentary realization, the lines on his forehead deepening. “I would always drop everything to be there for you. No matter where I am or what I’m doing.”

You laugh wryly. “Joel. Seriously. Are you really trying to tell me you were oh so worried about me while you were fucking someone else? And that you’re worried now even though she’s currently upstairs, desperately waiting for you to take her home? Come on, don’t insult my intelligence.”

He stares at you in utter disbelief and takes a step back, as if physically recoiling from the weight of your words. “That’s not what–”

“Look, Joel,” you push yourself off the sink, straighten up, and walk past him towards the door. “It doesn’t matter. You can fuck or date whoever you like. Jan seems nice and like a good match, so I’m very happy for you.”

“Sweetheart, I’m not doing any of that. You misunders–”

You turn around sharply to look at him. “I misunderstood the woman who’s had her hands all over you the whole evening?” 

“It’s not like that,” he insists, trying to get through to you. “She’s drunk as hell and probably doesn’t even realize what she’s doing. And I’m not interested anyway.”

“Sure. That’s why she’s here right now.”

“I had nothing to do with that. Tommy invited her without telling me,” he says, running his fingers through his hair as his stress is mounting. “Darlin’, please. This isn’t even about her; it’s about you and me. And maybe it’s time to stop pretending everything’s okay when it’s clearly not.”

You turn your head, deliberately avoiding the intensity of his gaze as the weight of his words settles in. His plea sends palpable waves of discomfort through your already wounded emotions, causing your chest to tighten further. Why is he doing this? Is this fun for him? 

“So you’d rather keep pretending everything’s fine?” he presses, his tone a mix of concern and urgency, the edges of his patience beginning to fray. 

Okay, now you’ve had it.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Joel. What do you want from me?” you hiss at him, frustration dripping from your words.

Joel is momentarily taken aback, but his own agitation prevents him from fully grasping your distress. A deep sigh escapes him as he props one hand on his hip, rubbing his eyes wearily with the other.

“Since when does it matter what I want?” he murmurs.

Ouch.

That hurt.

Your face falls, and you feel like he just slapped you across the face. The sting of his words cuts deep, causing tears to well up in your eyes.

Joel’s eyes widen in shock when he sees the look on your face. “Shit, no, I didn’t mean it like that,” he stammers, realizing the impact of his words a moment too late. “I’m sorry, baby, I–” his voice trembles with regret, desperate to undo the damage he’s done.

“Is that how you really feel? That I don’t care about what you want?” you ask, your voice shaky.

“No, I shouldn’t have said that, I’m so–”

“But that’s how you feel? Deep down?”

Why are you acting so surprised? Were you really naive enough to believe him when he said he was happy with you? God, you’re dumb.

“Oh, sweetheart…” he reaches out to wipe away the tears that are making their way down your cheeks, but you push his hand away.

“I came here for you, Joel,” you blurt out, your raised voice startling him. “And I–I spent the last three hours making conversation with everyone, including the woman you’re fucking, because I care about you and want you to be happy, even though my hand is killing me and I’m so drained I have to force my eyes to stay open.”

You express yourself with animated hand gestures as you talk through your tears, your voice breaking. 

“I had a horrible weekend and needed some time to recover, but I was so fucking happy to see you tonight because I’ve missed you and I’ve–I’ve never hidden how much I like spending time with you. Why is that not enough? What more do you want from me?”

Your big, watery eyes pierce Joel’s, and the fact that he’s the reason for your tears pierces his heart.

“Darlin’, I’m so sorry. It wasn’t right what I said.”

He takes a step closer to you, the desperation in his eyes matching the pain in yours, intending to pull you into a comforting hug to calm you—and himself—down. However, you immediately take a step back, creating a physical distance between you two.

“Do you want me to cry ‘cause seeing you with another woman breaks my heart? Is that it?” 

Joel stares at you incredulously, your accusing tone making him wince. “No, of course no–”

Your heart is racing, and you can feel the tightness in your chest growing with every second you’re looking into Joel’s eyes. Eyes that—until now—have always made you feel so calm, so safe, so…loved. Your hands tremble slightly, and a lump forms in your throat, making it difficult to speak.

“Do you want me to make a scene in front of everyone ‘cause it physically pains me to think you’re touching her the same way you touch me?”

Joel opens his mouth to say something, a fleeting impulse to express himself and try to console you, but he catches himself, realizing that uttering those words might inflict more damage than repair right now. 

“Do you want me to beg you not to leave me ‘cause I can’t even imagine my life without you anymore? Is that what you want?”

“Sweetheart...” He takes a step towards you, his eyes pleading, but you cut him off.

“No, I’m fucking sick of this,” your words spill out between sobs as tears stream down your face. “It’s always the same. I’m good enough only as long as I act the way you want it, and the minute you get bored or realize I’m not as perfect as you imagined, you replace me with someone better. Everyone always fucking leaves and I’m so sick of it.”

“Darlin’, I swear that’s not what’s happening,” Joel implores, his whole body so tense and hot he’s sweating through his shirt. “I’m not leaving and I really didn’t mean to hurt you.” 

You sigh deeply, grab a paper towel from the dispenser on the wall, blow your nose, and dry your tears.

“I knew this was gonna happen and I still let myself believe I could be enough for once,” you murmur more to yourself than him, your head pounding painfully.

Serves you right for having feelings.

Joel says your name gently, trying his best not to spook you. His words hang in the air like a lifeline, a desperate attempt to mend what is broken.

“You are enough. You’ve always been enough. I’m so sorry for making you feel otherwise.”

Your head is spinning, emotions tumultuous and unyielding. In dire need of fresh air and distance from Joel, you stagger towards the door. His voice follows you, pleading.

“Sweetheart, I promise I’m not going to leave you. And I’m so incredibly sorry for upsetting you, I just–” he exhales deeply and clears his throat. “I wanted you to be honest with me about your feelings, but this wasn’t the way to go about it. I’m sorry.”

The door swings open, and you turn around, the forced smile from before back on your lips. 

“Well, congratulations, Joel,” you say, your tone laced with a mix of bitterness and anguish. “You got what you wanted. I hope you’re fucking happy.”

The door slams shut behind you, leaving Joel stunned, alone with the haunting echoes of shattered trust and unspoken pain, the distant thump of music mirroring the beating of his remorseful heart.

As you make your way back upstairs, the residual heat of the argument lingers on your skin. Taking a deep breath, you enter the lively space once more. Tommy, who’s standing at the bar, notices you, concern etched across his face.

“Hey, is everything okay, honey?” he asks, his voice soft with genuine worry.

You manage a tight smile. “Yeah, I’m okay. My hand’s just hurting really bad now and the meds make me dizzy, so I’ll head home.”

He furrows his brow. “Joel’s my designated driver, but I can take a cab, so he can drive you home.” He looks around, searching the bar for his brother. “Where is he anyway?”

“There’s a huge line in front of the restrooms, he’s probably still waiting. And it’s okay, Tommy, really.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, seeking solace, and bury your face in the crook of his neck. He responds by pulling you into a warm and reassuring embrace, a gesture that speaks volumes without the need for words. Luckily, he’s drunk enough not to smell his brother on you.

“I missed you,” you murmur, your eyes closed. 

Tommy strokes the back of your head and chuckles. “I missed you, too, sweetheart.”

He pulls away far enough to look into your eyes, giving you the brightest smile. “Tell you what. You come over for dinner on Friday — no ifs, ands, or buts. Maria’s been wanting to see you, and we just finished our patio, so it’s perfect.”

You pinch his cheek and shake your head at him. “It’s not fair that you’re this charming, you know? How could I ever say no?”

“Don’t say no, then,” he says playfully,  a hint of worry still in his eyes.

You sigh exaggeratedly. “Okay, okay, I won’t.”

“Attagirl. And you’re sure you don’t want Joel to drive you?”

“Yes, I’m sure. I always find my way home somehow.” You plant a kiss on Tommy’s cheek, and he finally agrees to release you from his embrace after securing a pinky promise that you ‘a hundred percent won’t flake out’.

You walk over to Kristen and Jan, who are still sitting at your table, engrossed in an animated conversation. Observing them for a moment, you find yourself captivated by Jan’s effortless charisma. She’s a real sunshine — and unlike you, she doesn’t have to fake it. Had you met her under different circumstances, you might have liked her. 

Kristen’s eyes meet yours, and her brow furrows slightly, registering the expression on your face for a fleeting moment. Swiftly, you put on a polite smile and step closer, masking the momentary vulnerability with practiced ease.

“Ladies,” you say, a touch of self-deprecating humor in your tone, “I know I’m lame, but I’m actually going home already. Just wanted to say goodbye.”

Jan answers first, surprising you with a warm smile. “Oh, that’s not lame at all! You’re just smarter than us.”

You hold up your injured hand and deadpan, “Yeah, I’m a real genius, aren’t I?”

Jan and Kristen giggle, and you join in, sharing a brief moment of camaraderie. You’re so good at this. Almost believable. 

As you look for your bag on the bench, contemplating the logistics of your departure, Kristen catches your eye and winks at you.

“I’ll come with you,” she says, giving you a reassuring look. “Our boss is gonna have a fit if I fall asleep at my desk again, so…I guess this is what being a responsible adult is,” she sighs. She hands you your bag, downs the rest of her drink, and the two of you say goodbye to Jan, who’s now getting up to search for the Miller brothers.

Kristen takes you by the hand, gently leading you outside. The cool breeze brushes against your face as the sun starts its descent, offering a much-needed breath of fresh air. Settling down down on the curb together, you find a comfortable spot, trying your best not to inadvertently flash someone as you adjust your dress. 

“I’ll call us an Uber,” Kristen says, her tone comforting. You appreciate the warmth of her presence as you wait for the ride, the fading sunlight casting a soft glow on both of you.

“Done.” She wraps her arm around you, providing a supportive shoulder for you to lean on. The two of you sit in silence, the ambient noise of traffic and distant chatter from the bar filling the air, serving as a backdrop to the racing thoughts in your mind. Eventually, Kristen succumbs to her curiosity. 

“So…” she starts, her voice carefully navigating the sensitive terrain. “That’s him?”

You chuckle faintly. “Yup. That’s him.”

“Hmm, I get it now. He’s hot as fuck,” she says, happy that she can make you laugh. “Do you think he’d be up for a threesome?”

“Oh, I’m sure he’d be up for it. I’m just not so sure about his heart being able to take it. Or his back. Or his knees.”

Kristen giggles and then looks at you for a moment, fascinated by this evening’s revelations. “It’s so interesting, I had no idea you were into older guys.”

“I, uh, didn’t know either before I met him.”

“I see,” she nods, a thoughtful expression on her face. Another minute of shared silence passes before she decides to just come out and ask you the one burning question on her mind.

“Do you love him?”

You don’t need a second to think about your answer.

– – –

Thank you for reading!! 🤍

→ part 6 || part 8 || series masterlist

tagging: @koshkaj-blog @paleidiot @pattwtf @tuquoquebrute @witchofthedeepwoods let me know if you want to be added!

[keis-slut]

Sex In The Pizzaplex

fnaf

chapter ii. - Sun and Moon ⚠︎

CW: DIRTY TALK, SLIGHT DEGRADATION, JOI, OVERSTIMULATION, SEX TOYS, FINGERING

"now, you remember what I said about the daycare attendant?"

Vanessa asks, leading me into the Daycare center.

I was hired as an "after-hours attendant", which is honestly just the nicer version of saying i'm a janitor, but they started me off in the Daycare. Just as Vanessa guessed.

She was currently leading me to the Daycare, and was instructed to be my trainer. But mentioned she would just simply show me where things go and what to use when cleaning instead of being on my back with every move. She trusted i'd be just fine after a thing or two, so there is really no need for "training".

"I do remember, yeah, yeah" I say, rolling my eyes playfully.

She leads me over to these giant wood doors, and stops there.

"this is as far as i'm going, the attendant is your issue now" She says, crossing her arms.

I roll my eyes at her.

"thanks, I appreciate it" I say sarcastically, turning to her.

"is he really that bad?" I ask her, as she turns around and walks to the table behind us.

"yeah, he's odd. id rather not deal with him, it's annoying" She admits, grabbing a bin full of items.

"if you say so. wish me luck then" I say, fixing the strap of my bag on my shoulder and taking the bin from her as she motioned for me to have it.

"in here are all the cleaning supplies. I told you what needs to be cleaned and what to just leave. you'll be okay?" She asks, and I nod.

"okay, good. I'll be patrolling the Atrium and main entrance tonight, so i'm in the building. you know how to reach me if you need" She says, walking off with a smile and a wave.

I smile as I watch her walk off, sighing and turning to the tall doors.

I push them open with my foot and look around, everything so colorful.

To my left was a desk, so I headed over there to place down the bin, along with my bag.

Now, id like to mention, my "jokes" about getting freaky with these animatronics...not really jokes.

Yeah, no, I had something...a few things, in my bag. Just in case of anything. To come prepared.

I mean, it's not like I take those things out of my bag anyway.

But, whether this was robophilia, agalmatophilia, whatever you wanna call it, being attracted to fucking robots...

Working here was my opportunity to figure it out.

I stand up, and go to fix my work shirt, only to then feel something suddenly grab my hand.

I'm forcefully turned, now face to face with someone new as they grab my shoulders.

"hello! are you new?! what's your name?! my name is Sun, can you be my friend? oh, you're pretty!..."

I gasp, finally coming to my senses and getting a good look at this person.

animatronic.

The Daycare attendant.

He had a freakish looking smile, and his head was shaped like a sun. He was wearing an outfit almost similar to a jester, his red and yellow striped pants puffed out at the bottoms. Along his slender arms, he had bells dangling from his wrists, jingling as he held onto me. As odd as his design was, I did like it. But I understood immediately what Vanessa said by annoying.

He wasn't as cute as the other animatronics though, so maybe he could just help me with my chores and i'd be on my way. Probably won't be testing anything tonight.

Although, his mannerisms and slightly flirty compliments might've been...attractive.

"t-thank you...i'm y/n" I introduce, face slightly warm, and he removes his hands from my shoulders.

"oh! what a lovely name!" He compliments, clapping his hands together. I smile at him and walk over to the bin of supplies.

"oh, thank you" I thank him, grabbing a dry rag and an all-purpose cleaner from the bin Vanessa had given me.

"what brings you here after hours, friend?" He asks, skipping next to me, swaying his hips.

I stand up straight and show him my supplies.

"I work here. I just started" I say with a smile, going to walk around him to start cleaning, but he stands in front of me.

"oh, can I help! what do you have to do? let me!" He offers, laying his cold hand on mine, touching the rag I was holding. The physical touch sends a pulse through my body.

I smile, and pull away gently.

"I'll clean behind the desk first, actually, then maybe you can help with the play area. it's a mess" I say, shuffling over to the desk chairs.

"you think so? I try my best to clean up after the kids" He says, walking to the other side of the desk, leaning forward on his elbows and resting his chin on his hands.

"that's good, it leaves a little less work for me" I say with a chuckle, using the spray bottle for the cleaner along the desktop, wiping it down.

"speaking of kids..." He speaks, voice getting only a little lower in tone. But enough for me to halt my cleaning, and look up at him as he leans closer over the counter.

"how old are you? you're not a kid are you? I don't usually see many adults" He comments, and I stand up straight. He climbs on top of the desk, squating as he observed me, up and down. Even if he didn't have pupils to know where he was looking, I could still feel his stare somehow. Like there were a pair behind all of it.

"no, i'm not a kid" I admit to him carefully, as he continues to approach me. He hops over the desk, now on the same side as me. I back up, feeling my heel bump into something. My foot had knocked over my bag, but I was able to catch myself with my other foot before falling. Even so, my bag had toppled over, almost everything inside spilling out. Even it.

He notices this as well, and his head tilts in curiosity.

"what is this thing?" He asks, and my face pulses warmly. But I didn't say anything.

I just watched as he picked it up between his slender fingers, coming back over to me and holding it up.

"is this a toy? i've never seen one before, how do you use it?! it has lots of glitter!" He asks curiously, getting closer to me abruptly as my glittery toy was pushed in my face. Startling me slightly, I step back again into the wall, hearing something click behind me. I must've hit a switch, as the power in the area suddenly goes out.

"oh, damn it-"

"-no! no, no! the lights! they have to stay on! not now!" He startled me as he grunts, hunching forward and groaning in pain.

I watch, confused, even a little worried. I step forward for him to only step back further, bumping into the desk and dropping my toy.

"no, please! fix the lights, hurry!" He pleads, groaning again before toppling over behind one of the desk chairs.

I gasp, wanting to check on him, but frozen in my tracks as I was also still slightly frightened.

"Sun? are you...okay?" I ask, moving just a bit to try and carefully get a view.

But all I heard was silence, and then low growling.

My heart slammed against my chest as I heard this, starting to back up again.

This wasn't Sun anymore.

I watch the chair as it moves to the side, revealing a similar animatronic, but darker, his robotic wires and metal parts clicking as he eyed me from behind the chair.

I could only slightly make out how he looked, his pants now a blue color, scattered with yellow stars.

Definitely hotter.

I watched as he stood up from behind the chair, tilting his head to look at me as he slowed his stride approaching me.

Those red eyes...

As he got closer, I only now had noticed how tall he actually was, as he had to lean down to get in my face.

"you'll be a good girl for me, now, won't you?" He purrs, feeling my face grow hot.

Oh my god.

Everything inside me was internally screaming.

All of the above when it came to kinks was currently screaming.

My legs had almost turned to jelly as his slender fingers touched my neck.

"won't you?" He repeats darkly, and my breath hitches.

"y-yes" I respond quickly, my face burning.

He brought his hand down to my chest, pulling at the buttons on my work shirt. Removing one, then two, then another, enough to reveal my bra.

I swear if he had a tongue, he'd be licking his lips.

He let out a low growl as he moves back slightly, and stops, pointing at the desk chair.

"sit"

He demands, and stepping over to the chair slowly, I could now feel the warmth between my legs.

As I sit down, he bends to pick up my toy again, walking closer to me. He leans down, resting his hand on one of the chair arms to hover over me, his other holding it.

"I don't know how this toy works. why don't you show me?" He purrs, handing it to me.

I hesitate, then grab it shyly, hooking my finger around the band of my dress pants.

"now, now, I know all of us are mostly around children all the time..." He growls, leaning down again with his hands on either side of the chair, looming over me, watching me strip with his red eyes.

"but when we aren't..."

I slip my pants off one leg, and he brings a cold hand to my thigh, forcefully spreading my legs.

"well, we're just like you..."

I gasp as they twitch, and he brings his other hand to trace against my damp panties.

"so wet already...naughty, naughty girl" He hums, pushing harder against the fabric as my legs go to snap closed, fighting against his hand still holding them open.

He pulls his hand away, and stares at me.

"do it" He says, his raspy, growling voice leaking with desire.

I slide my hand down my hip, hooking my thumb around my panties and pulling it off one leg, exposing myself.

He leans against the desk, carefully watching me.

"put it in, slowly" He demands, and I whine, shamelessly feeling myself drip right before his eyes.

I bring the tip to my entrance, moving it up and down to lubricate slightly.

My mouth forms an "O" shape as I moan lightly. The tip enters gently, and my eyelids bat as I make eye contact with him.

"hm, what's the word?...whore?" He growls, questioning himself out loud, knowingly teasing me.

As he says that, I buck my hips, the toy pushing in fully.

I moan as I carefully pull it out, thrusting it in again just the way I liked.

"no, no, did I say to start?" He snarled, inching closer to me.

I stop and buck my hips, trying to tell him I needed to keep going.

"such a needy girl" He said, placing his cold robotic hand on my knee.

"go slow"

I pump my toy in and out, as slow as I could manage, my back arching against the chair.

"please..." I beg, sighing as I felt myself desirably clench around the toy.

"oh, so you want to beg now?" He teased, tilting his head as it clicked mechanically.

"such a desperate whore, now, aren't you?" He growled, bringing his hand down to mine and helping me push the toy in deeply.

My hips jerk forwards, and I whine for him to move.

"you wanted to beg, didn't you?" He teased, pushing harder as the toy brushed against my limit.

"beg"

I squirm under him as my walls closed tightly around the silicone.

"please, I want to keep going..." I whisper, sighing out a moan as my eyelids dropped.

"I want to cum, please, please let me" I continue to beg as he laughs desirably.

"filthy girl..."

He retracts his hand, placing it on my thigh instead.

"faster, now"

I moan loudly, pushing the toy in and out of me at a faster rate, my other hand grabbing at the chair behind me as my hips rolled.

"i'm close, please" I plead, and he growls.

"let me"

He grabs a hold of my hand, forcefully placing his other hand just above my head to tower over me.

The size of him just had my pussy throbbing against the toy as he encased me in the chair.

His mechanical hand paced at an unbelievable speed, my arm beginning to grow tired.

My chest heaved as he pulled it in and out so fast I could barely keep up, my moans turning into breathless whimpers.

"let me cum, please" I cry, my eyebrows knitting, pussy tightening around the toy.

"naughty girls must be punished" He barked, bringing his other hand to attack my clit, overstimulating me as I squirmed out a messy orgasm.

He pulled out the toy abruptly, my squirting finish dripping on the chair, his hand still circling my clit forcefully.

I sob as he watched me come undone, writhing uncomfortably in the seat. Growing severely sensitive, he still didn't seem to stop. No, instead he brought his other hand to my entrance after tossing the toy to the side. He easily has slipped two fingers inside me, curling them instantly as my hips bucked.

"fuck!-" I cry, and he tuts me.

"uh, uh, no naughty language in the Daycare..." He spits, hooking his fingers against my g-spot, his other hand still overstimulating my clit.

"i'm sorry, oh, god, but please-!" I beg, whining as he laughed, knowing he felt me clench around his robotic fingers.

"seeing you come undone is a dream" He admit.

Suddenly, even during all of this, the power comes back on loudly. It had startled me, and before me he had started to twitch, his hat falling behind his head, and Suns rays came through. His eyes glossed over back to white, and his outfit had faded back to its red and yellow. Once turning back, he noticed me and retracted his hand from between my legs, my mess all over his shiny fingers.

"oh, friend! i'm so sorry! did Moon hurt you?!" He cried, stepping back as he was flustered.

I throw my head back on the chair and sigh heavily out of relief, my legs twitching ever so slightly as I tried to rest them.

"oh, Sun, you're back..."

I now had to clean up more than I expected tonight.

[stupidlovergirl]

"Ugh! So Cliche!" Feat Lucifer and Mammon Word count - 1.5k Dev Notes: Every day I grapple with the fact I'm such a bad poster, oof. Anyways, here's Wonderwall

Lucifer, Enemies To Lovers

Really, you don't know why you're here, all things considered. It was Mammon who had the idea, and he dragged you along with it. You were an innocent bystander, really! So how come YOU have to clean up the hallway after Mammon spilled five gallons of paint down the hallway.

Scrubbing the floor, the light above you is blocked, and the eye roll you give could make history with the exasperation it has, and you look up, expecting your partner in crime to have another bright idea. Yet, when you look up, it is Lucifer, looking down at you with a slight glare. You have to bite your tongue at the want to groan.

“Are you almost finished?” He drones out, and you just look back at the floor, scrubbing at the neon yellow paint.

“What does it look like?” 

Thankfully, you were basically done, you were on the last spot, but you’d probably be done sooner, if the marvelous self-proclaimed “Smartest Demon Ever” didn’t run off with his next scheme. Honestly, you just hope he hasn’t got himself caught up in something you can’t save him from. The thoughts of how Mammon’s going to get caught running that “lucky” key chain thing was going to blow up, a thoughtful hum from the first born catches your attention.

“Where is Mammon?” he asks, sounding upset

“I told him he could leave, the cleaner was hurting his hands” that was a lie, it was making yours dry out more than his, but hey, you didn’t want him to get in more trouble than he was in, so you might as well. Another thoughtful hum from Lucifer above you as you finish up on the last spot, dropping the scrubber into the dirty water bucket. 

“Good work” is all the first born says, and walks away, footsteps echoing down the hall. What a dick.

This time, it happened with the Anti-Lucifer League. You stand between Belphegor and Satan, looking at Lucifer as he drones on about how “Glitter bombs are prohibited” and that “glitter is already hard to get out, so I can’t fathom why you’d rig my dresser drawers”. Honestly, you're upset with the camera that was set to catch his reaction to it and the fact that it malfunctioned. 

“And you” Lucifer cuts through your mind, leveling his gaze at you. “You’re tasked with cleaning and vacuuming out my dresser drawers” You bite your tongue and don’t roll your eyes, no matter how much you want to, and nod. After he sends you all away, you groan loudly, which makes Belphie snicker and Satan smile, before you set off on your tasks. 

In the end, if someone said glitter was a torture device made in the Devildom, you’d believe it. This is the third time you’ve had to clean Lucifer’s dresser this week, pulling out the dresser and dumping out the clothes on his bed, and using a cloth to catch some of it. You’re working hard, so when the door opens, it goes unnoticed. It’s only when you feel the warmth of Lucifer’s hand on your back that you realize he’s in the room. 

“Yes?” you ask, looking up at him in irritation. 

“I need you to move,” he asks, and you scoot away from the bed. He rummages through the clothes on the bed, and gets a pair of socks, and slips them off. You watch him out of the corner of your eye, and it makes you surprised. Lucifer wears sock garters. Oh my god, that’s…honestly kind of hot. You cast your eyes down, cleaning the drawer with more vigor, focusing hard on it to ignore the beating of your heart in your chest. For the second time, Lucifer startles you, this time with two quick pats on one shoulder and his head by your ear

“Good work” he says, voice deep and rumbling, before walking off

Oh. Fuck.

Mammon, Fake Dating

When you woke up this morning, it was the loud rapping against your bedroom door, which was swung open and revealed to be Mammon. Who came chattering about a “couple’s discount” at some where they were selling something he really wanted. You don’t remember much, other than him yanking you out of bed and grabbing some clothes out of your closet and throwing them at you and leaving. It all happened extremely fast, and you were dressed and being pulled out the door, with him rattling out things about how to be a good partner. 

“Also, you should probably pick a pet name, I’m letting you choose between babe, darling, and love of my life” he says, that cocky grin on his face as he pulls you in closer, throwing his arm over your shoulders. 

“I’ll pass,” you reply, yawning slightly as you walk with him. Really, it’s not much different between your average walks, Mammon always has been kinda touchy, so it’s pretty natural, so once you reach the…you think it’s a fancy jewelry store? It was pretty natural. You walk in, and yeah, there are a lot of couples.

“What are you getting again?” 

At your simple question, Mammon groans loudly. “There is this new matching set of watches, and I really want one, and it was said that if you come with a partner you’d get a discount. 

“Cool, does that mean I’ll get one too?” you ask, elbowing him in the ribs

“Ughh, I GUESS you can have the other one” he says, though there is a slight smile on his face. As you walk towards the counter, the worker at the bar steps up, and Mammon easily greets them, talking with ease. You look down to the sparkly gems inlaid in metal decors, eyeing them. “I’ll get you that right away!” the worker says, as they walk off. 

“This one is really pretty” you say, pointing to a necklace in front of you two. It sparkles behind the glass, enticing people to look at it. 

“You want it?” Mammon asks, and your head whips up to look at him, gaping. His head turns immediately as yours does, hiding his face from you. “Are…are you sure?” you ask, voice quiet.

“Yeah, I just got paid and it’s pretty cheap '' Well, that you know is a lie, you can see the price tag right in front of you, but it was sweet to say anyway. 

“Nah, it’s fine, I don’t really wear jewelry a whole lot” you say. Soon enough, the sales attendant returns, and Mammon buys the watches and for show he puts it on your wrist. You gasp, awwing at it as he slips his on. He pays with ease, and the two of you walk out. 

Which, you think, leads to the problem you’re facing right now. “Mammon! I can’t believe you didn’t read about this!” you say, trying to pry the watch off your wrist as you glare at him.

“How was I supposed to know they were enchanted!” He groans, his own hands trying to yank it off your wrist also. The two of you fight at it, but give up before searching on the internet.

“It says you’re supposed to admit something important” you say, huffing as you look at the details on the website. You sigh, turning off your D.D.D.  “Apparently, they were made in some form of couple’s therapy”

“How lame” Mammon replies, picking at the food in his bowl. “Well, what do you have to say?” he says, taking a bite of his noodles.

“It was me who broke your model car and blamed it on Levi” you say, smiling sheepishly as he looks at you in horror. 

“I can’t believe you!” he says, placing his hand on his chest

“I panicked!” you reply, laughing awkwardly, trying to take the watch off. You frown, the watch not budging.

“Didn’t work” 

“Damn” he replies, frowning.

“I was the one who sold your ring Asmo bought you”

“I thought I lost that!” you say, upset

“I scratched your car on purpose when I was mad at you for blaming that candle incident on me” you say, rubbing your arm slightly

“I used you as an alibi because I was out gambling last night” Mammon replies, scratching his head

“I ate your last slice of cake and lied” 

“I told you that top you bought recently looked good on you and it kinda didn’t but you liked it so much I felt bad saying so”

“I gave away that set of hair clips you got me to Asmo”

“I have liked you romantically for a while, but telling you scared me" Mammon says, hiding his face in his hands. You gape, and feel the watch slide off your wrist, and you feel floaty, looking at him.

“You do?” you reach across the table pulling his hands away from his face.

“Yeah” he replies, face red and eyes frightened

“I’ve liked you for a while too” you reply, pulling his hands towards you and kissing the knuckles.

Mammon blinks, a slow smile spreading across.

“Of course! Who wouldn’t love the Great Mammon!” he prattles on, and all you can do is laugh.

[imightgetbetter]

i'm not very good at this sort of thing

matty and the missus' wedding. a little smut, a lot of sweetness. i hope you enjoy. i am feeling very soft thinking about this era of their relationship. i would love to write more lovey dovey stuff like this. love these two forever and ever. thanks for supporting me and them and the blog. you're all a bunch of legends. love you forever and then some. warnings: some smut in the beginning so if you're a minor don't read ok thank you also lots of sweet stuff if you're looking for angst it's not here

Matty’s curls hang low in your face as his hips thrust against yours, rocking back and forth as your legs tighten around his waist, your hands cupping his cheeks as your lips sloppily meet in the middle amidst your moans and grunts. His cock is buried deep inside of you, and you can feel yourself nearing the edge of release, the pleasure building in your abdomen and your fingertips gripping the sheets beneath you. His words are murmured against your skin, rushes of “I love you,” “God, you feel so good,” and many moments of “fuck” grunted in your ear. His words alone could bring you there, but the feeling of him pushing into you, his thighs tense between yours, is enough to push you over the edge.

His orgasm washes over him as you tense and squeeze around him, your body growing lax beneath him as he kisses over your thighs and your stomach and up your chest, nuzzling in your neck and pressing tiny kisses into your skin. Circling your arms around his shoulders, holding him tightly to you, you can see your engagement ring shining with the sunlight piercing through the window. Matty had just gotten it cleaned for the first time, and it looks brand new, you’d say, almost too pretty to wear. Almost being the key word there, because you haven’t taken it off since he slid it on your finger. Matty lifts his head when you sigh, his lips pulled into a half smile that you adore so openly.

“Are your legs shaking?”

“Maybe,” you huff, slowly releasing your legs from around his waist and stretching them out against the crisp white sheets. Matty lifts his body from yours, with a laugh, slowly pulling out of you and lying beside you, stretching himself out before sitting upright and reaching for his phone on the bedside table. “Have you picked up our clothes from the dry cleaners?”

“I have to do that in an hour or so. Do you know what time everyone is coming over?”

“Around two,” you say, rolling onto your side and laying your head on his chest, closing your eyes to the sound of his heartbeat thrumming under your ears. “Can we go look at wedding bands, today?”

“Will we have time?”

“It’s only,” you say, pausing to look at the time on his screen, “half eight. I think if we’re out the door by ten we can grab our dry cleaning and look at wedding bands and be back and ready for the party by two.”

“Alright, darling, whatever you like,” Matty hums, kissing your forehead and setting his phone beside him, soaking in the last minutes of quiet before a busy day. “It’s supposed to be beautiful out, today. It would be a lovely day to get married.” Matty’s eyes meet yours for a moment. “I was kidding, love.”

“Are you?”

“I mean, yeah,” he says, patting your backside and nudging you away from him – the longer you’re on him the longer he’ll prolong staying in bed – swinging his legs over the side of the bed and reaching for a clean pair of boxers in the bedside table drawer. “I haven’t got anything ready for you. I haven’t planned the honeymoon or my vows or even what I want to wear. And God, I’ll be a mess when you walk down the aisle, I haven’t prepared myself for that.”

“I suppose you’re right,” you hum, admiring him as he slowly pulls trousers up his legs and settles the waistband just right on his hips. “I wouldn’t mind it, though.”

“Wouldn’t mind what, darling?”

“Just winging it.” There’s a sentiment in the air that you can’t quite put your finger on, an emotion you’ve never touched bubbling at the surface. More than love, more than genuine care, it’s almost a feeling of nostalgia, to be at time in your life where surprising your friends and family with a celebration of your love for one another would be reminiscent of the past, an ode to the times where you snuck around and hid in closets and bedrooms. Something new, untouched in your emotional toolkit. “I don’t think it’d throw our friends off that much. Our families wouldn’t mind as long as they’re there. It’d save us all a hassle, to be honest.”

“I can see the wheels turning in your head, YN.” Matty pulls a shirt over his head and lays his hands flat on the mattress, leaning over to press his lips to yours. “We’re not getting married, today, my dear.”

“But, what if we did?”

Matty puffs out a breath and kisses your temple, his lips lingering on your skin for more than a moment before conceding, “Then I guess we’re going to buy wedding bands, aren’t we?”

“I promise we can do the whole big reception and party and booze and hundreds of guests and friends and family another time, Matty,” you reason, grabbing his cheeks and holding his face flush to yours, your noses pressed against each other at the bridge. “But this, this I want to be just us and our immediate family. You and me. The guys. Our parents. Our siblings. Twenty people max. All in our backyard. We’ll get everyone here and tell them it’s the engagement party but when we go to make a toast, we’ll tell everyone to get in their cars and get on their way to the courthouse. And then we’ll come back here and celebrate. It’ll be just like we pictured it.”

“Just how you pictured it, darling.” Matty takes note of your softened and defeated expression. “Darling, will this make you happy?”

“I don’t want something big. I just want you and me.”

“I’m pretty sure I have to be there either way, my love.”

“Matty.”

“Look,” Matty says softly, adjusting his body to sit on the edge of the mattress, his face still held between your palms, his nose brushed against yours, “if this is how you picture our wedding day, then I’m in. It’s our day, sure, but you waited long enough for me to get my shit together, the least I can do is make sure it’s the day of your dreams.”

You lean forward, pressing your lips to his sweetly, a smile breaking apart where your mouths meet. “I love you massively, deep in the depths of my bones.”

“I don’t even think that’s possible.”

“It’s possible.”

“Alright, Madam Poetry, we have rings to buy and flowers to find all in the span of,” Matty checks his phone, “four hours.”

Kissing Matty once more for good measure, you push off the mattress, rattling about in your wardrobe to find your clothing. Matty assures you that you don’t have to rush, just put a little pep in your step, and that you don’t want to forget anything. You ask him to grab all the things for a marriage certificate (you’ve been researching in your free time) and you stand in front of the mirror, sure and ready with your decision. You have everything you need, in and including a note on your phone that you’ve been drafting over and over since the day after you got engaged.

“Are you ready, darling?”

“I am,” you say surely, tucking your things in your purse and grabbing his hand, following his lead out the door. He’s chattering about what garnish of metal he’s thinking about for his ring, and you can see the excitement beginning to fill his features, and you wonder if it’s always been there, the anticipation of marrying you, and you just never noticed. All the words you’ve been thinking of for the last twenty minutes sit resting on the tip of your tongue, and you don’t want to ruin the excitement, yet you know you need to ask. Matty’s question of what you’re thinking about draws you from your daydream and you blurt out, “Have you written your vows yet?”

///

Outside couldn’t have been better – a sunny afternoon with clear skies and warm temperament basking over everyone in the garden, two tables filled with family and the closest friends to you, glasses of champagne gathered around the place settings that will be filled with catered food later in the evening. Matty miraculously (although not surprisingly) pulled through on the surprise by only telling Jamie what was happening today (as he would be in attendance, of course) and the extra knowing hands allowed for you two to solely focus on buying the rings and the flowers and getting Matty’s suit dry cleaned and your dress properly steamed for the afternoon – a white, silk number that fit perfectly to your body. Matty nearly burst at the seams when George rang him to ask what he should bring to the party, and you kept a close eye on him to ensure the secret would remain just that – a secret.

Matty pulls you into his side, kissing your temple sweetly. “Is it time?” he whispers, waiting for you to meet his gaze and nod at him subtly, your peripheral vision catching the eyes of George and Ross in the corner. Carly stands close by, handing a glass of champagne to Adam (if Matty got to tell an important person, you got to tell an important person), and you smile, grabbing your own and holding it up for everyone to see.

“Matty and I wanted to thank you all for coming to our engagement party, today. All of us are only in town for a little while and we know you all have things to be doing, but it felt like the perfect time to celebrate the engagement and everything that it means from here on out,” you say, your eyes welling with tears at the thought of what comes next. It’s what you’ve been waiting for all these years, all the waiting and yearning for him behind closed doors, it’s coming to a close, and to a new beginning all at once. “I’m sure all of you were waiting for our engagement as much as I was,” you say, laughing with your friends and family as a surrounding sea of head nods and laughter fills your garden. “I just wanted to say a thank you, from Matty and myself, to all of you, for always loving and supporting us and seeing our relationship through just as much as we did. Your love and support have meant everything to us.” Matty’s hand squeezes yours.

“That’s actually why we told you all to dress up a bit more formally, today,” Matty begins, waving his champagne glass towards the friends and family all dressed in trousers and skirts. “’Cause it’s not just an engagement party, you know, why would we ever do anything so lackluster?” Matty smirks at his mother, who seemingly has already caught on, and is whispering in your mother’s ear as Matty gathers the courage to say what he really means. “What I really mean to say is, well, we’re getting married. Today, I mean. Cars are on their way to take us to the courthouse, and we’ve already done all the paperwork and things. You’ll all be a witness. A true family affair.”

“I know the whole wedding planning is the usual thing to do but, to be fair, it’s really not my speed and I’d much rather celebrate with just you lot. This is what we want to do,” you say, looking to Matty, who has a smile plastered from ear to ear. “All we want from you all is lots of pictures and videos. That’s all we ask. We have plenty of food and drinks and wine and dancing waiting for us for when we get back.”

“That’s it, then? We’re doing this thing?” George chimes in from against the wall, a grin spreading across his lips as he walks towards his best friend. “Are you going to play it?”

“Play what?” you say, turning your head towards George and Matty and pressing your lips together in a tight line, trying to read the facial expressions between the two of them. Matty nods and George claps him on the shoulder, kissing his cheek and hurrying inside to grab what you can assume to be an instrument. Matty kisses your cheek and pulls a chair out for you, grabbing the chair beside you and sitting in it himself. “Matty, what are you playing?”

Matty takes a sip of the champagne and takes the guitar from George, settling the strings in the right places and allowing Carly and George to gather everyone around where you’re sitting, everyone seeming to know exactly what’s happening besides you. “You are the last person to know about this,” Matty says, strumming the strings lightly, “mainly because I have been trying to find the words to write normal vows to you since the night we got engaged. I'm not very good at this sort of thing, as you know. I just couldn’t make anything sound right and I knew nothing would be comparable to what you’ve written, so I figured I’d do what I knew best, and George and I got in the studio, and we wrote. Well, I wrote. I wrote about you and what it means to be loved by you. And I wrote about how I think I can get better whenever I’m with you, because you make things better, darling. You make everything better.” Matty wipes the corner of his eye. “So, while I didn’t write a three-paragraph barrage of my love for you, I did write a three-minute song of it. I would like to play that for you, now, because I do think it would be very weird to pull out a guitar in the middle of a courthouse.” Matty laughs with you, and you can hear the surrounding laughter behind you. “Can I play my vows for you, sweetheart?”

And the only thing you can do is nod quietly, swallowing back tears as his fingers splay out over the strings.

“Our first kiss was Christmas in the Walmart toy department // She said, "I should take you with me when I leave" // When we were searchin' New York for a fancy, new apartment // She said, "Central Park is Sea World for trees.” Matty’s voice is soft, and the only thing you can hear besides his voice is the quiet chirping of birds far off in the distance, and you wish you could take a picture of the moment, of you and Matty and the loved ones around you, but you swear you’ll keep it all in your memory. “You ask about the cows, wearin' my sweater // It's somethin' 'bout the weather that makes them lie down // The only time I feel I might get better is when we are together. I like socks with sandals, she's more into scented candles // Oh, I'll never get that smell out of my bag // And it was poorly handled, the day we both got canceled // Because I'm a racist and you're some kind of slag.” Matty laughs breathily and you can feel yourself laughing under the tears in your eyes. “You ask about the cows, wearin' my sweater // It's somethin' 'bout the weather that makes them lie down // The only time I feel I might get better is when we are together, oh, together.” Matty takes a breath, “"I'm better at writing" was just a way to get you biting, oh // The truth is that our egos are absurd // I thought we were fighting but it seems I was gaslighting you // I didn't know that it had its own word // You still ask about the cows, wearin' my sweater // Said it's something 'bout the weather that makes them lie down // The only time I feel I might get better is when we are together.”

Matty sets the guitar in George’s hands and grabs your hands, pulling you into his lap. He gently wipes the tears from your eyes and says, “I know for a fact that I get better when I’m with you, and I want to spend every day for the rest of my life, and into the next one, getting better with you, darling. You are the better half of me. I can’t wait to make you my wife.”

Matty sighs when you grab his cheeks and kiss him, falling into your touch and blissfully ignoring the coos from your family around you, your friends hollering and whistling for you. Adam calls that the cars are here, and Carly begins ushering everyone outside for you. You take one more moment with Matty alone, soaking in what it feels like now, to be moments away from your wedding, from being his wife. You circle your arms around his shoulders, hugging him tightly, and whisper into his ear, “I’ve been getting better since the day I met you.”

///

Matty is holding your hands tightly as you stand in front of the officiant at the courthouse, all your friends and family adoringly taking videos and photographs, your excitement bubbling over in your grin and wide eyes, a mirrored expression on Matty’s face. His hands are shaking in yours, and you squeeze him tightly to reassure him that you’re there, that you’re never going anywhere. On your left, the officiant is saying many things about love and quoting great philosophers and therapists and people you’ve never heard of, all things you wish you could say you wanted to remember, but all you want to remember is this feeling, the feeling of Matty’s hands in yours and the smile on his face and the way his curls are falling in his eyes and the way your heart feels like it’s sitting permanently in your throat with nerves.

“It’s time for your vows, YN. Have you prepared your own, too?”

“I have mine, yes,” you say, looking at Carly nervously and smiling when she hands you your phone, your fingers fiddling with the screen to find the note that you’ve labelled honey for as long as you can remember. “Alain de Botton said, ‘Perhaps it is true that we do not really exist until there is someone there to see us existing, we cannot properly speak until there is someone who can understand what we are saying in essence, we are not wholly alive until we are loved.’ I have been loved my whole life, and I have loved my whole life, but until I was thirteen, I had never been loved by you. It’s a special thing, to meet the person you’re meant to share your life with at such a young age, because I have had the privilege of sharing my life with you for more than half of it. I do believe that I was merely existing before I met you, because meeting you had meant that I met my people. My best friends. My confidants. My family. My village. Because I met you, I found people that understood what I was saying, even when I didn’t exactly know what I was saying myself. Because I met you, I realized what it meant to really feel alive. I know that being alive feels like staying up until four in the morning talking and dancing and singing together after being awake for twenty hours. I know that being alive means crying together when things go wrong. I know that being alive means laughing at our mistakes and loving each other in spite of them. And I know that being alive means I get to love you unconditionally and without limit. Yes, perhaps it is true that we do not really exist until there is someone to see us existing. And if it’s you that sees me exist, I will be happy forever.”

Matty looks at the officiant and looks at you, smiling brightly. “This is why I went first.” George laughs and Ross shakes his head. Carly reaches over and hands you a tissue, always prepared and already ready. Matty looks to the officiant, again, and says, “I need her to be my wife, now. Quickly, if possible.”

Matty smiles when you laugh, and you can see that the sound of it alone makes his eyes light up with joy. Minutes go by and words are shared between you and the officiant and Matty, I do and Yes, I will and a Thank God before Matty’s mouth is on yours, kissing you deeply, his hands holding your cheeks as your body presses against his. He kisses you for what feels like forever, and you’re lost in it, in the feeling of him and his mouth and what it means.

You’re married. You and Matty are married.

“We’re married,” you whisper, pulling away to catch your breath.

“We are. You’re my missus, darling. Now and forever, you’re all mine. And, might I add, you’re absolutely dashing in all white.” Matty tucks his thumb under your chin, “What’s going in that brain of yours? Are you happy?”

“I’m so happy, I don’t know what to do with all of it,” you whisper, the tears overflowing in your eyes and creasing in the corners. “I love you forever.”

“And I’ll love you longer.”

[thewitchesfortune]

How to cleanse your house for manifestation, and "clear your door ways" of negative shit

Clean your front door. I am not joking, clean the fucking door. Especially if you have VISIBLE grime on it, clean it physically. Take your multi-surface cleaner, spray it to fuck, then wipe it down with paper towels until everything is gone. And then, take a prepared wash (spiritual wash of whatever sort you feel necessary, could even be a multi-action bath for cleansing and protection as well as prosperity if you do it right) and re-wash the door with this mix. If you don't have visible grime on your door, you can skip the multi-surface cleaner and go straight to the spiritual wash

Once a month at least, especially for warding work or for road opening work (would not try to make it for both, if you do road opening have a separate ward set up at the door)

Easy Warding recipe

-baking soda

-bay leaves

-peppermint

-basil

-ashes of psalm 23 (or another if you have a preference, or a petition written for the protection of the home)

Wash the door, then throw the remaining liquid at the door and let it air dry

Easy Prosperity recipe

-cinnamon

-clove

-nutmeg

-ginger

-bay leaf

-holy water (optional, but adds an extra kick)

-coins (will be strained out and given as offerings at a crossroads after the wash is made)

-petition for prosperity and abundance burned (also psalm 23, and Mathew: 7:7-8)

Wash the door while petitioning for prosperity, for money to always be flowing in, and for blessings in general to always be flowing in. After entire door is washed, throw remaining liquid on door and allow to air dry. Take the coins and go to the nearest crossroads and drop them on the corner (if you live in an apartment complex, the entrance to the complex is the best place. Not the nearest gate, the ENTRANCE. My nearest gate is exit only, and you want abundance flowing IN)

Anyway, hmu if you want a reading, or if you'd like a specific work done! Info is in the pinned post on my page, lmk if you're interested!

[peachy-panic]

Lonely

Hi everyone, I'm alive! Have some Torley Era Jaime content.

This kind goes along with a (much happier) future piece I'm hoping to finish writing and post soon, so stay tuned for some better vibes. For now:

WARNINGS: BBU/BBU-Adjacent, hunger, the sadness of stray cats (no animals were harmed in the making), brief suicidal ideations, gun mention, implied noncon

Restless. That is how Jaime thinks of the long weekdays in the Torley house, when the boys are at school and his Keeper is at work, and Jaime is left on his own until they return home to demand his attention. 

It is not that he is without work; Mr. Torley holds high expectations for his home, and Jaime strives to meet them all, even if it means double, triple, cleaning over a room he’s already scrubbed bare or taking all of the glassware out of the cabinets just to polish and arrange them again. But there are days when he finds himself with idle hands, in the time between completing his chores and his keeper’s return. That’s when anxiety creeps in. He knows it’s a conditioned thought, but it’s in him too deep to ignore. He can’t rest, can’t be useless, can’t be found being lazy when Mr. Torley comes home. 

It gets lonely, though, these pockets of restlessness. He is so fucking. lonely.

Sometimes he wishes that he had permission to go out on errands—collecting groceries, making returns, dropping off suits at the dry cleaner—just so that he can have a reason to talk to another person. He was trained to believe that many domestic contracts allow for that kind of thing, but Mr. Torley has made it clear that Jaime’s place is in the house. In the month that he has been here, he has never once been allowed to step foot outside, and he knows better than to ask. 

He is usually good at avoiding temptation, but on one Friday morning, Jaime is caught off guard.

He is cleaning the sliding glass doors at the back of the house when he catches a flash of movement in the corner of his eye. Jaime flinches, startled, but when he looks into the backyard, he finds that the source of the motion was a fluffy, white cat, now tucked halfway behind a thick tree root, peeking up at Jaime with obvious apprehension. Through the thick glass, he can make out a muffled meow.

It must be the same cat Kade saw last night. Jaime hadn’t seen it himself, but he overheard the argument between him and his father from the next room. 

“Dad, we should keep her!”

“It probably already has a home, Kade.”

“No it doesn’t,” he shot back. “Look, she doesn’t have a collar.”

Ubidden, Jaime’s hand rose to the metal band at his own throat. Funny, he thought, how a collar is the mark of a safe home to some. 

“That doesn’t mean it’s our responsibility.”

“Daddy,” Jaime recognized the edge of frustrated tears slipping into Kade’s voice. “What if she’s hungry?”

“She’s fine.”

“Can I give her some water at least?”

“Kadence.” Even from the next room, Jaime couldn’t help but flinch at the impatient tone in his Keeper’s voice. “You will not give this cat anything, do you understand me? You feed it once and it will keep coming back. That’s the last thing I need to deal with.”

“But Dad—”

“I said, do you understand me?”

“Yes.”

Without really thinking about it, Jaime stuffs the washrag into his back pocket and crouches down, putting himself closer to eye level. The cat perks his head up in response, fixing him with a steadier stare. 

“Hi,” Jaime mouths, lifting one hand to wiggle his fingers in a half-wave. The cat puts a hesitant paw forward, and Jaime smiles. “Hello, there.”

Another soft meow, and then it pulls its paw back. 

“Don’t go,” he whispers, struck by the sudden, urgent fear that it will dart away and leave him alone. All at once, it is Jaime’s greatest wish to keep this small animal in his sights, if only for a little while. If only to feel just a little less alone for a few minutes. It's desperate and sad, but it's true.

Jaime’s eyes flick up to the latch on the sliding door, just above his head. It would only be for a moment. Just a moment, just long enough to see if the cat will come closer. He won’t be breaking any rules—not really. 

When he looks back to the cat, he sees that it has moved several paces closer, and it’s all the push he needs. Slowly, Jaime reaches up and flips the lock open. The sound is enough to freeze the small animal in place, but it doesn’t retreat. Still, he slows his movements even further as he wraps his fingers around the handle and pulls it to the side. The burst of clean, fresh air on his face is the best thing he’s felt in months. 

The noise of the door startles the cat into motion again, but when Jaime stretches out his arm, his palm open, it bounds toward him instead of away. It slows its approach as it gets within a couple feet of him, stretching out its tiny, pink nose to sniff at his hand. 

“It’s okay,” he whispers, keeping himself still and steady. When the tip of its nose makes contact with Jaime’s finger, the cat only jumps back for half a second before it twists its neck, pushing its tiny head into Jaime’s outstretched palm. 

A sound bubbles out of Jaime’s mouth, and it takes longer than it should to recognize it as his own laugh. Carefully, desperate not to scare it off, he scratches between the small animal’s ears and elicits a soft, vibrating pur. 

“Hi,” he says again through another burst of delighted laughter. “Hi, sweet girl.”

He’s not sure if he’s right about that guess, but it feels better than referring to it like an object. He decides to trust Kade’s intuition on this one. She meows up at him, and he chooses to take that as approval enough.

“Are you lost?” Jaime asks, noticing without conscious thought that his voice has risen to a pitch he only ever uses for Kade’s bedtime stories. “Do you have a home around here?”

He knows the answer before he asks it, though. The edges of her white fur are caked with mud and grime, and he can feel her spine a little too prominently through her skin. 

Jaime remembers well what that kind of hunger feels like. A dangerous thought begins to take shape. 

He glances at the clock in the hallway. He still has a couple of hours before he expects Mr. Torley home. That should be plenty to sneak something out. Even if it’s just some water. Jaime can clean it up and put everything away before his Keeper comes home. He never needs to know. 

He flinches as the thought lands. These are the kinds of things he’s not supposed to think about anymore. 

But Mr. Torley does plenty he isn’t supposed to do, doesn’t he?

He hesitates, just for a moment, before he stands, knees cracking. 

“Will you stay here for a minute?” he asks, scratching under her neck when she raises her head. “If I go to get you something to eat?”

She scuttles back a few steps at the sudden movement but doesn’t run away. He will have to hope for the best. 

In the kitchen, he goes straight for the plastic bowl in the cabinet that is designated for Jaime at mealtimes. He used to think about the fork scratches in the bottom when he first arrived at the house, wondering how many boys before him had eaten from the same bowl. He would never use any of Mr. Torley’s good dishes, but this serves him perfectly well as he fills it halfway with water from the tap. 

Food is another matter. Jaime has never had a cat before, but he knows the basics. Normally, he would expect to find a can of tuna or two stashed away in the back of someone’s pantry, but Mr. Torley isn’t the pantry staple kind of person. He likes his food fresh and expensive and expertly prepared, and—

Salmon. In the refrigerator, there is a small strip of leftover salmon filet from two nights ago. Mr. Torley never eats leftovers, and the boys hardly touched their fish to begin with. Jaime might have allowed himself to it before he would be expected to throw it away, but this is a far better use. No one will notice it's gone. No one will miss it.

Before he can talk himself out of it, Jaime carries out the bowl of water and the strip of salmon on a paper towel, relieved to find the cat waiting for him in the same spot. 

“Here you go,” he says, setting the offering on the cold cement patio. Her hunger becomes more apparent as she dives headfirst for the small piece of fish, tearing away large bites at a time. Jaime feels a pang of guilt that he doesn’t have more to offer her. 

She purrs as she eats, poking her head up every few seconds to glance at Jaime—either to check that he is still there, or to make sure he’s not coming close enough to snatch away her food. He sinks into a crouch a couple feet away, happy to watch her filling her belly for the night. In the back of his mind, somewhere well into dangerous territory, he starts to think of ways he might be able to sneak her food in the future. Maybe, if he’s smart about it and he plans his meals right, he will be able to save back small portions of whatever meat they have for dinner. Even if Jaime needs to slim down his own portion, it’s not a big deal to save a little bit for her the next day. Maybe if he only keeps her fed during the daytime, Mr. Torley won’t ever see her when he’s home. 

He is pulled from his planning when the cat suddenly stops eating and goes rigid. There are still a few bites left on the napkin, but she has turned her attention toward the side gate, her little ears twitching at something unseen. 

It takes Jaime another second, and then he hears it, too: the low, almost silent electric hum of Mr. Torley’s car in the driveway. 

He’s home early. Hours early. 

Fear ices him over, but Jaime has no time to freeze. He has less than a minute before Mr. Torley will make his way around to the front door.

It breaks his heart to have to pull the last bits of salmon away before she can eat them, but he hurriedly bunches the napkin into a fist, trying to pick up the tiny shreds that have fallen on the patio with shaky fingers. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers to the cat, who has started meowing in objection. “I’m so sorry. You need to go now. You should go.”

He curses under his breath as he spills a bit of the water bowl, but that’s easily explainable enough, he supposes, if he’s asked about it, he just—

He has one foot through the patio doorway when the sound of the gate latch stops him cold. Mr. Torley never comes through the back gate. Why is he coming through the back gate?

“Stop,” Mr. Torley says simply, low and cold. Not a shout, but a single, flat syllable that raises the hair on the back of his neck. Jaime nearly drops the bowl of water with the lurch of dread that curls in his stomach. In his periphery, he sees a ball of white fur retreat across the yard and disappear. 

He knows that, no matter what happens now, the last thing he should do is keep his Keeper waiting, so Jaime pulls in a shuddering breath and turns to face him. 

“Put it down,” Mr. Torley says, “And come here.”

Of all the things he could have said, that unexpected directive inspires a spike of fear. Regardless, Jaime places the water bowl and the wadded napkin on the ground at his feet and makes his gallows march across the yard. 

He stops a couple of feet away, keeping his eyes trained on Mr. Torley’s expensive shoes. Helpless words race through his mind, scrambling to arrange themselves into a coherent explanation, an apology, anything that might soften the blow of his inevitable punishment. 

But his Keeper doesn’t ask for an explanation or an apology. He simply raises a hand to the gate latch—making Jaime flinch—and pulls it open once more. 

“Get in the car,” he says. 

Jaime’s eyes rise to meet his, confusion and alarm ringing through his skull. “Sir?”

Mr. Torley doesn’t move toward him, doesn’t raise his voice. He simply repeats, a beat slower this time, “Get. In. The car.”

On trembling, boneless legs, Jaime walks through the gate. He hasn’t been this far outside in nearly a month, but the terror and the strangeness of the moment takes away any joy he might have derived from the fresh air and sunlight. 

Mr. Torley’s car sits in the driveway, sleek black and still humming quietly. Jaime has never ridden inside, and he hesitates a moment before reaching for the back door handle. It’s locked, much like his throat when he tries to vocalize it. Instead, he stands silent and unwillingly disobedient with his fingers clutching the handle, waiting. Mr. Torley takes his time latching the gate and walking to the driver’s side. He gets in, closes the door, and fastens his seatbelt, all before Jaime hears the quiet click of his lock being undone. He scrambles into the backseat and barely closes the door behind him when the car lurches into motion. 

Jaime flattens himself against the leather seat back as they glide faster than what he’s sure is legal down the road. He doesn’t fasten his own seatbelt, too afraid in this heightened unknown to make a single move without explicit permission. His fists curl into the soft material of his pants, and he only realizes then that his feet are still bare. 

Where are they going? Where is he taking him? Why isn’t Mr. Torley saying anything? The quiet feels like a threat of its own, but Jaime doesn’t dare be the one to break it. Should he? Would an apology gain him any ground? What is expected of him here: his silence or his contrition?

The lump in his throat makes the decision for him, blocking any hope of words along with the ability to draw a full breath. 

That is, until, the car jets past a familiar sign on the highway, and cold acid releases into his bloodstream.

“Sir?” The words come out less than a whisper, and are met with more stony silence. Jaime grasps for another pull of oxygen and sits up further in his seat. “Mr. Torley?”

Nothing. 

Jaime’s heartbeat pounds in his fingertips, his temples, his throat, his chest. It could be a coincidence. Wherever they are heading could just be in the same direction. The sign doesn’t have to mean anything. 

And then they pass another sign, in bold, harsh, undeniable lettering: EXIT -  WRU PITTSBURG. The car glides smoothly onto the ramp, and the dam holding back Jaime’s panic bursts wide open. 

“Please,” Jaime whispers in horror as the first corner of the concrete hell comes into view. “Mr. Torley, please. Please.”

Nothing. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” Jaime babbles, tears blurring the massive wall of false windows that seems to stretch a mile long. He is suddenly struck by the irrational fear that Handler Smith can see him already, that he already knows Jaime is here, is being returned, is being surrendered for early termination. 

“Let me catch you back here early from a contract, even once,” Handler Smith had whispered to him a week before he was assigned. “Let me find out you’ve embarrassed me by forgetting your manners, and I promise you, you’ll wish you would have slit your wrists before ever showing up in my training room again.”

Wildly, he pictures the razor sitting out on Mr. Torley’s bathroom counter and thinks, He was right. I should have.

“Please don’t do this,” Jaime cries, tears falling openly now. In a desperate corner of his mind, he wonders if it will help. Jaime so rarely grants him the opportunity to see his tears, and he knows just how much he enjoys them. In any case, he can’t stop them now. “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry, please, I won’t do it again.”

The car slams to an abrupt stop, hard enough for Jaime to jerk forward, jamming his wrist as he catches himself from slamming his face into the seat in front of him. They are stopped short of the entry booth for incoming cars, veered to the side of the road. Mr. Torley spins around to face him, making Jaime shrink back. 

“What are you sorry for?” he asks, eyes hard and resolute.

“F-for—”

“For getting caught?”

Jaime presses his lips together to stop them from quivering. Mr. Torley reaches into his pocket—and Jaime has the wild, hysterical vision of him pulling out a gun and dumping his body on WRU grounds. But he only pulls out his phone, flipping the screen around to show Jaime a camera feed of the back door at the house. 

“I have an alert set,” Mr. Torley says, “To monitor all exits of the house. Imagine my surprise when I was on my way home for an early weekend, and received a notification of my backdoor opening, unauthorized.” 

“I wasn’t trying to get out,” Jaime rushes to assure him, shaking his head. “I wasn’t… I wasn’t going to run.”

“No?”

“No. I promise.”

“What, then?”

How much will his honesty buy him now? Is it worth anything when Mr. Torley has clearly already seen, already knows? It’s better, at least, than a lie, and it’s all he has at his disposal.

“The cat,” he whispers pathetically. “She seemed… hungry. I fed her the leftovers that would have been thrown out. I gave her water. I’m sorry.”

“And you did so thinking you wouldn’t be caught?”

The affirmation feels like slipping a noose over his head. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“I’ll have you say it.”

“Yes, sir. I did.”

“And you did so after hearing me explicitly forbid it to my own children?”

He swallows. “Yes, sir.”

Mr. Torley inclines his head toward the building ahead of them. “What do you think the people behind those doors would have to say about such abject deceit and disobedience from someone they sent out on a paid contract?”

Jaime pinches his eyes shut, shaking his head. 

“Answer me.”

“I…” Jaime begins, his voice pinching. “I would be disciplined.”

“What kind of discipline do you think this warrants?”

Behind his eyelids, he sees the lash of a thick leather cord, a shock clip locked to his throat, a tub of ice cold water. 

“I don’t know,” Jaime whispers. 

“You don’t know,” he echoes.

Jaime shakes his head, and he can feel Mr. Torley’s stare burning through him. 

Then, as abruptly as they had arrived, Mr. Torley faces forward in his seat and turns the gear shift. Jaime opens his eyes as the car rolls into motion once more, making a U-turn away from the facility. 

“Well,” Mr. Torley says once they’re back on the highway. “You’ve got thirty minutes to think of a better answer.”

Jaime spends the rest of the night, and the rest of the long weekend that follows, atoning.

On Monday morning, he sees the cat again. When she catches a glimpse of Jaime cleaning in the next room over, hunched on his hands and knees, she raises one tiny paw and scratches against the glass. He forces himself to look away. And when her hungry meows come muffled through the glass panel, he scrubs harder, bending his head closer to the floor so that the scritch scritch scritch of bristles on the hardwood almost manages to drown out the noise. 

After that, she gives up on coming back at all. 

***

@whumpervescence @shiningstarofwinter @distinctlywhumpthing @whumptywhumpdump @nicolepascaline @anotherbluntpencil @hold-him-down @crystalquartzwhump @maracujatangerine @batfacedliar-yetagain @thecyrulik @pumpkin-spice-whump @finder-of-rings@melancholy-in-the-morning @insaneinthepaingame @skyhawkwolf @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @mylifeisonthebookshelf @dont-touch-my-soup @whump-world @inpainandsuffering @cicatrix-energy @quietly-by-myself @whumpsday @extemporary-whump @the-whumpers-grimm @thebirdsofgay @firewheeesky @whumperfully @hold-back-on-the-comfort @termsnconditions-apply  @cyborg0109  @whumplr-reader  @pinkraindropsfell  @whatwhumpcomments @honeycollectswhump @pirefyrelight @handsinmotion

[bisexual-horror-fan]

Do-Over-December 8th. Threesome. "Share And Share Alike." Charles Lee Ray X Tiffany Ray Valentine X AFAB! Reader.

SO! I know this is two days late but fuck it, I had some IRL shit going on pertaining to my current shitty job not giving a single fuck about my personal safety, so shit got nuts. On we go with Kinky December 's do over. Anyway, so this is the first thing I wrote with both Chuck and Tiff a while before I even started Through The Heart Is The Only Way, it was fun coming back to it and fixing it up! I hope you all enjoy it!

---

Rating. Explicit. Length. 3.4K (Old Length.3.1K) Warnings: Public Sex. Exhibitionism. Voyeurism. Blood. Violence. Murder. Vaginal Fingering. Cunnilingus. Dirty Talk. Teasing. Rough Oral Sex. Blow Job. Vaginal Sex. Strap-On Sex. Sex Toys. Threesome. Smoking. Chucky Is A Bastard, Tiff Is An Angel, What Else Is New? 

---

How the three of you met was quite unusual. It was most assuredly not a traditional meet-cute that lead you to getting to know them.

You were working late one night which was strange enough as it was, you normally are not one to do the closing shift, it was a long and hard day, retail work was so damn tedious and tiring. You were almost out of here though, about to pack up and leave, the mall you worked at was almost totally empty by this point, the cleaning tonight ran long after your hectic day. Cleaning like this was not even a usual task, but the dedicated cleaner called out sick, so you had to step up. You were just returning something to the back and grabbing your shit, you would be out of here. No one else was around, or so you thought. 

You were walking across the tiled floor, the back of the house finally in sight, and you started to lose your footing, something wet underneath your shoes making you slip, your arms flying out, steadying yourself quickly, you managed to avoid falling, a close call.  You breathed a sigh of relief at your near miss and looked down to see-

Blood.

Your mouth feels dry, your brows furrow, and you are shocked. It was unmistakable. Thick and syrupy and deep red, near black, the smell of iron hits as you looked around and could hear something, you weren’t actually as alone as you initially thought. You swallowed thickly, and your eyes flicked to the door nearby. 

You could leave. 

Just run and go home and forget you ever saw this-

Eyes back down and you cursed under your breath. Your shoes were in the blood, you’d track footprints, how would you explain yourself? A deep breath as you thought for a moment. 

And then you decided to say fuck it and see if you could find the source. Not the smartest of ideas, but you didn’t have many options. The phone was in the backroom, you couldn’t call for help, and you’d try to be quiet. You proceeded forward carefully and quietly until you found just what you were looking for-but not what you expected to see at all.

There was a body, the source of the blood, yes, but there was something that was much more eye-catching in this aisle. Seems whoever did this wasn’t alone. Now, on an average day? You laying your eyes on this couple would have made you stare but catching them like this? You stopped dead and couldn’t move, transfixed by this couple a few feet away, thus far unaware of your presence. 

They were both a little bloody and, as it seems, currently having what looks to be very passionate and intense sex against the shelves in this aisle, mere feet away from this poor victim. 

The woman of the couple was fucking gorgeous, blond hair and dark lipstick and killer make up, dark clothes with a gothic kind of vibe with undeniable style, skirt hiked up and a heel on one of the lower shelves. She had her hands on the man, one fisted in his long red hair and the other gripping the back of his jacket, fuck, even her manicure looked perfect. And while she was something to marvel at, you were still drawn to the man currently drawing those sounds from her, hushed, but you could still hear them in the deathly quiet store. 

One hand under her thigh, holding her leg up, the other one of the shelves near her head, what you figured was the murder weapon, a bloody knife still clenched in his fist as he fucked into her. He was still mostly dressed, pants barely pulled down enough to get inside of her, his jacket still on, obviously both needing each other right then, and you were unbelievably into the sight of them together. 

Her head lolled back, the most delicious sounding moan crossing her lips as her head now rested against one of the shelves and her eyes that were previously closed open, and she caught sight of you. You should have hid a little better. The two of you made eye contact, and you contemplated running, she tugged on the sleeve of his jacket and said, “Chucky-we aren’t alone.”

Fucking God above, her voice.

The man, Chucky apparently, stilled and looked over his shoulder at you, he seemed none too pleased about being interrupted like this if that intense look was anything to go by, could you recall a time you saw eyes more blue than his? Okay, shit, what was wrong with you right now? He looked about ready to pounce and kill you for disturbing this and for catching them post murder and mid-fuck, and you were over here thinking about how fucking good they both looked. 

“Seems like we ain’t.” his voice too, yeah, you were in deep trouble.

You were frozen in place still, your mind was racing however, you noticed he clenched that knife tighter, and that beautiful blonde woman looked almost excited and urged him on, “Do it.”

You knew it was do-or-die time, you said quickly, before he could make a move,“I won’t breathe a word of this to anyone!”

A scoff and stifled laughter, your heart is hammering as he rolled his eyes, and she covered her mouth with her hand as she laughed, he spoke first, “Oh never heard that one before right, Tiff?”

That wasn’t a good sign. They were both using their names in front of you, uncensored, obviously unconcerned about you identifying them, their intention to kill you is crystal clear. 

“Oh yeah, never, ever heard that one. Real original.” He said is so sarcastically as her laughter was dying off. You need to implore them, appeal to their humanity if you have any hope of getting out of this. Yet to this day you still weren’t 100% sure where this next part came from, but you said,“I can help cover this up! I’ll help, so if I talk I’ll be in just as much trouble.”

You said it with such conviction. They shared a look, confused, clearly. She spoke first, this time looking back over to you, “Now that’s one I haven’t heard before.”

“Yeah. Now, why would you want to do somethin’ like that?”

It took a lot of guts to be honest, you weren’t sure what was making you feel so bold, you so weren’t normally like this. I mean, who does this? Stumbling upon a couple who just killed someone and instead of any normal reaction, fear or just anything, you were turned on. 

Fuck it. You might die tonight, why not lay it all out there? You had nothing to lose.

“Because I…I want in on this-” You gestured vaguely and cleared your throat, “You know?”

It took a moment for the realization to hit, but yeah, they both knew. He smirked and said, “No, I don’t think I know. Why don’t you tell us?”

Fuck. 

They made you spell it out. 

It’s hard, but you do as they wanted, you tell them in a rush, “This, I want to be with you…Both of you, I-I want it so badly that I’ll help you cover this up, just let me prove myself, prove I’m worth your time and the trouble.”

Oh, they liked you.

Just from that they liked you, but when they had you between them, cemented it. The way you gasped when Tiffany fingered you and the way you trembled and moaned when Chucky had you bent over and gripping one of the shelves still standing in the pool of blood they had spilled was something special. You were hot and fun, and took direction well too. 

Disposing a body with three was also easier than when it’s just them. They kept seeing you, and you just kinda slipped into it, they were already together, and you ended up becoming their third. 

They filled you in on what happened that night after the fact, some asshole that they had almost taken out, but he managed to run off, he took off into the backdoor of your store, and they had caught him and killed him right there. You realized your co-worker had left the backdoor open earlier when they took the garbage out which gave the two their way in, you normally scolded said co-worker for such carelessness, but now you were thankful they fucked up that night, or you might have never met them. 

So that was how you met. 

You had been seeing them for months now, you had essentially moved in. Holidays fast approaching, they had been out earlier doing some shopping, you had been as well, fussing trying to figure out what would be the best to get for them but coming up empty thus far. You had got home before them, had started making dinner when they both came in, you heard bags dropped near the door. You had come out of the kitchen to greet them and noticed the pair of them are a little dishevelled, if it was someone else, someone who was not you, who wasn’t used to looking for those signs they might have missed it. 

But not you.

You noticed the smudged flecks of blood and the tension, the overall energy, it was always like this when they came home after another kill. It reminded you of how you met. And the other nights they came home after that kind of thing, it made you squirm.

“Hey sweet thing.”

You loved how she said that when Tiffany greeted you walked over to you first, heels clicking on hardwood and her hands on your face, her gloves felt soft and cold as she kissed you. Your hands reaching out and gripped her coat as you tilted up more into the kiss, fuck, it felt good. She pulled away, hands still on your face, and you were looking into her eyes and she asked, “How was your day?”

“Good.” You responded with a soft smile before asking,“Yours?”

“Wonderful. Better to be home.” She was always so sweet to you, so caring, your gaze broke away, and you saw Chucky there taking his scarf and jacket off and hanging them up. From the body language you could tell just where this was going, you looked back to Tiffany, and she said, “Go to the bedroom, we’ll be in a minute. Okay?”

You didn’t need to be told twice. A quick nod and her hands left you as you scurried off to the bedroom. 

Sitting on the bed, waiting like this. It always got to you. It was always intense when they came home after a kill. You didn’t like knowing all the details, but you couldn’t help being curious about it, if you asked they would tell you, but you didn’t always ask. 

Curiosity got the better of you tonight. 

Soon you were pressed between the two of them, not in a dissimilar fashion to how you were that first night and so many others afterwards. Tiffany was behind you, leaning against the headboard, her fingertips tracing lightly over exposed skin, and you had your back to her chest as your pants were being pulled off by Chucky. You could go on and on about Tiffany’s beauty, but there was something about him that couldn’t be ignored either. Something about the look in his eyes or how he spoke to you, his hair, maybe it was all of it that made him so attractive to you? A deep breath from you before you asked quietly, “How’d it go this time?”

You knew they hadn’t planned on doing anything like that when they went out today, but sometimes things just happened, it was supposed to just be shopping, not slashing more than just prices. They loved to tell you, Chucky in particular liked it, he liked it best when you asked during these times, clothes being stripped away as they touched you. He liked how much you squirmed, almost ashamed by how much you wanted to hear about it while they did this. 

Holiday shopping could always get crazy, some asshole pissed Chuck off, not like that was hard to do, and it was easy enough to get him into an alley and of course he had his knife on him and that was that. You had been stripped by this point, re-positioned, on your knees, Tiffany still leaning into your back, whispering in your ear as her hand was between your legs, touching you softly, fingers stroking through your folds, “Always get so wet when we tell you about it.”

“Mmm they must really like it.” Chucky mused.

They both liked to tease you about how into this you were and that always made it worse, made you want to hide your face and your head dipped down and Chucky didn’t like that. Grabbed by your hair, head forced back up making you look at him in the eyes and he asked, “Do you like it?”

Tiffany stopped touching you causing you to whine, she kissed your temple and she said low, “C’mon, if you want more, you gotta answer him.”

You squirmed and Tiffany slipped her other hand around to palm one of your breasts as encouragement, you forced it out, saying, “Yes I-I like it.”

That was what he wanted to hear, it made him smirk, so smug and self-satisfied, he kept gripping your hair as he pulled you down, you had one hand around him, had been stroking him while they had told you about it, and now he wanted more. You wanted to give and give as much as they gave to you, your mouth opening and tongue running over the head of his cock as you kept looking up at him, and Tiffany resumed touching you. Once you slipped his head past your lips he sucked a harsh inhale through his teeth and as Tiffany’s skilled fingers circled your clit you moaned against him and fuck, it all just felt right. 

Being shared by them was fucking amazing. You loved the dynamic of it all. Particularly for moments like this. 

You had been going at your own pace but good ol’ Chuck had gotten tired of that, pulling you towards him with his hand still on your head and his hips thrusting forward into your mouth, being rough and taking his pleasure how he wanted it from you, Tiffany touching you and being so sweet and soft, encouraging. “You take it so well, sweetheart, look at you.”

One hand stroking down your back gently as she had two fingers fucking in and out of you, one particularly hard thrust into your mouth made you gag a little and that made Tiff click her tongue disapprovingly and speak up, “Why are you always so rough with them?”

A laugh from him, another thrust, harder, another gag from you and he responded, “What? They like it! Don’tcha?”

A hard pull on your hair, another thrust that made your eyes roll back, and you clenched down on Tiffany’s fingers with a nod. You did love it, adored the dichotomy of the two of them being with you at once, “See?”

The look on his face, once again, smug as hell, a shit eating grin, he knew the effect he could have on you, how much him being so hard on you while Tiffany showed you such softness and affection, got to you. He could feel it in every look and action, every single touch and movement.

You swear you could feel Tiffany roll her eyes behind you, her thumb rubbed over your clit as her fingers curled inside of you, making you whine all over again as she said, “Asshole.”

You weren’t sure why, but you loved how they talked to each other, the light kind of teasing they did, banter and name-calling, sometimes a little too harsh, yet you could tell the undeniable love under the surface. 

Such a mess by this point, drool running down your chin from the throat fucking, hair messier from how Chucky had been holding it, deep purple lipstick marks left over your skin from Tiffany kissing you. There was mess on your thighs, shaking, already very needy.

“She ready?”

You were. She asked, “Mmm you want it sweetie?” You nodded once, mouth still stuffed full of cock, and that is how you ended up now. 

This right here was one of your favourites. On your hands and knees, getting fucked, strong hands on your hips, pulling you back onto him as your face was buried between your girlfriend’s thighs. Tiffany loved how hard you tried, it was difficult to maintain a good rhythm when you were being split open on his cock like this, but you were getting better and better at it. How you moaned against her dripping pussy was hot as Hell for her, not to mention how fun it was to watch you struggle to continue to please her, your tongue slipping up through her folds and over her twitching clit.

I mean, it was easy to see why you loved it so much, she tasted amazing and every sigh and moan you could pull from her sounded nothing short of divine. Tiffany was insanely talented with her own mouth and fingers, you only hoped you could give back half of what she did to you.

It was impossible to get over how lucky you felt, how spoiled you were, you had every single thing you could ever want. You were truly endlessly grateful. 

“Look so fuckin’ good.” Of course Chucky wasn’t going to complain about the view, his two favourite people in his life, spread in front of them, buried to the hilt in you as your hands were on Tiffany’s outer thighs as you shivered and moaned and ate her out. 

“Mmmf the best.” Tiffany confirmed, her praise meant the world to you, looking up to her, tongue running over her clit again with another moan, and it was so arousing to you that you clenched down again drawing a moan from the man behind you. 

It always seemed to work out like that, it was easy for the three of you, all feeding off of each other, it often happened, someone doing something to someone else and the reaction it pulled adding to it, making it hotter, made it feel better. And so it went. 

It usually played out like this, Chucky would love to have you first, make you a mess, almost forcing you to cum for him, pulling you over that edge like it was some kind of race. You would be left sore and well stretched, he was rough as always, and after he had cum inside you, he would watch as Tiffany had you. He would relax totally amused, cigarette in hand as Tiffany would play with you, much softer and sweeter, she wouldn’t be rough as you helped prep the strap-on, not like it needed much when your pussy was stuffed with cum. 

“Such a good mouth.” She praised, and she would gently pull you away, your mouth sliding off of the strap-on with a wet and audible pop, and she would lie you down and kiss you so sweetly as she lined up and filled you. 

Your thighs on either side of her hips as she was on top of you, and she would make you cum too of course, the build slow and gentle and damn intense in a different kind of way, and she’d be praising you all along the way.

Or it would be that way until Chucky had enough of just watching and got his hands into the toy box. Having her fuck you while he would use a vibrator on you was nearly too much to handle and they both knew it, the way you would squirm and twitch was too good to pass up, and the way it would make Tiffany lose control just a little bit and get a tad rougher was more than welcome. 

You knew the dinner preparations you had started earlier would be no good, there was no way they were close to done with you. You could always order in later, you supposed. 

It was truly a blessing and a curse having two partners, it usually meant no rest for you, one could take it easy until the other was ready for more, not to mention when they were both using you at once. 

Both of them had such presence and had such strong personalities, they seemed to fight often but again when it came to you? 

Sharing came easy.

[hairmetal666]

Bing Crosby's voice warbles from a portable stereo propped up near the sink, singing about a white Christmas; red-ribboned garland lines the windows and door frame; small wreathes bedeck the cabinet doors; and Steve Harrington stands at the kitchen island.

He turns when he hears the slip of Eddie's socks on the tile, grin already blossoming across his face, and they're hugging before he really processes it happening. Steve mumbles, "it's good to see you, Ed," in his ear.

The hug is too tight and too long for what they are to each other now.

They break apart, Steve immediately turning back to the baked sugar cookies spread out on the island.

"Wanna help?" He asks.

Eddie sticks his hands in his back pocket, walks to stand next to his ex, his best friend, his--everything in the world that matters. "What are we making, Stevie?"

"Frosting sugar cookies. Think you can handle it?" He wiggles a pipping bag in Eddie's face.

"No way," Eddie says.

"Yeah, c'mon, you're a good artist."

"With like, pencils and shit. Not icing."

"You'll do great."

"You sure about that? Remember when--"

Steve snorts. "Oh, you mean the last time you tried to bake, and I had to mop chocolate batter off my ceiling? And I found dried splatters of it for months? Yeah. I remember."

Eddie hides his laugh in a cough. "Sorry?"

He wanted to bake a cake for Steve's birthday, back when they were together, made a mess instead. Steve had just laughed and kissed him, started cleaning.

Their relationship started out hot and heavy in the months after Vecna. They got caught up in it, threw themselves headfirst into the kind of love that sucks you under, turns you inside out, leaves you with nothing. It ended, like it was always going to, when Eddie couldn't get out from under the shadow of his own self-loathing. Terrified he was fucking everything up, he packed his bags and left in the dead of night.

They're older now, though. More settled. The trauma softened by time.

"Coffee?" Steve asks.

"Please."

Steve gets it brewing, pours a couple mugs, adds the cream and sugar just like Eddie likes. Of course.

They ice cookies--and okay, Eddie's not so bad at it--and they chat and it's good. Nice. Two old friends catching up.

"Hey," Steve says.

Eddie looks over, would never not when it's Steve asking. The man in questions smiles at him, big and guileless, which is all the warning Eddie needs. He doesn't quite manage to duck in time, and Steve swipes frosting covered fingers across his face. He makes a pained noise, an injured little squeak, that has Steve in hysterics.

"Steve!" He shrieks.

The culprit is doubled-over, clinging to the countertop to stay on his feet, shaking with laughter.

"You--you," Steve half-sobs. "The look on your face!"

Eddie grabs a mostly fully piping bag. "You're gonna get it, Harrington."

"No--no," Steve darts sideways. "This sweater is dry clean only!"

"Should have thought of that." Eddie manages to smear frosting across Steve's wrist. "No one actually uses the dry cleaner, anyway."

They tussle around the island, giggling and shouting. He finally manages to catch Steve, drawing lines of icing over his face to the sounds of spasming giggles.

"Okay, okay," Steve says. His chest visibly heaves from exertion. "We should clean up."

Eddie shrugs. "You brought it on yourself."

"Yeah, yeah. Here." Steve hands him a wet towel and they spend the next few minutes smearing frosting off their faces.

He tosses his red and green smeared towel into the sink. "Happy with yourself?"

"Uh-huh, yeah--Oh, you've got a little--" Steve points towards Eddie's chin.

"Here?" Eddie wipes haphazardly at his face.

"No, it's--Can I?"

Eddie nods and then Steve is pressing his index finger to the corner of Eddie's bottom lip, gently swiping. Their eyes lock and there's nothing else in the room.

"Got it," Steve whispers. He doesn't pull his finger away.

"Thank you." Eddie's not sure anything but air comes out.

Steve's eyes dip down, fixing on Eddie's mouth and the spot his own fingers rest.

Eddie thinks he might die.

On the other side of the house, there's the sound of a door closing, the thud of approaching feet.

Steve pushes away, grabs a cookie and a piping bag.

Eddie has a few seconds to settle himself, figure out how to breathe. He's barely calm when Mark's deep voice rumbles through the kitchen, "Hey, babe. How's the baking?"

"Good," Steve says. "Work okay?"

He can't be rude, has toacknowledge that Mark is here, in the room, co-owner of the house.

"The usual." Steve and Mark smile at each other, soft and intimate.

When they kiss, Eddie drops his eyes.

"Eddie! Good to see you, my man!" Mark says, wrapping him in a loose hug.

Eddie pats his back, says, "Been awhile."

"Yeah, you should come around more often. Know Steve here would love to see you. Guess LA is keeping you busy."

"Guess so," Eddie agrees.

He's desperate to get out of here, dying for a break, to blot their easy intimacy out of his brain. "I--uh, think I need a cigarette break. I'll be back in a minute."

"Don't take too long," Steve says. He doesn't look away from Mark, so Eddie doesn't bother answering.

He steps out the back, cigarette and Bic already in his hands, lights it before the door is back in the frame.

--

Hours later, he slips out to the front porch, this time for a second to breathe. Even outside, he can hear Mike and Dustin yelling, the girls chiming in, Joyce and Hopper and Wayne laughing, "Rockin Around the Christmas Tree" blasting.

He walks to the side of the house, steps stuttering in the snow when he sees the glowing ember of a lit cigarette.

"Eddie?" Steve asks. "Need a smoke?"

"Nope, just wanted to clear my head." His heart thuds loud enough he's sure Steve can hear.

There's a beat, only a second or two, before the cigarette falls to the snow with a soft sizzle and Steve's hands are bunched in his shirt.

The kiss is hot, hard, desperate. His fingers dig into Steve's hair, pulling tight.

"Baby, baby," Steve murmurs, their mouths not even parted. "I missed you so much."

Eddie whimpers, clings tighter. "I know, sweetheart. I know, but we promised--"

"Fuck, I'm sorry. I just--"

"Stevie." His thumbs caress the planes of Steve's face. "I can't do this anymore. We said--"

"I know, I know. But I can't stop thinking about you. It's all the time. I miss you so bad that it hurts. Right here in my chest. And fuck--I lo--"

"You don't," Eddie says. Vision obscured with tears.

"I do," Steve's fingers grip around him tighter. "I always have. I never stopped. I thought you--I thought--"

"Steve?" Robin's voice calls into the night.

They let their hands drop away from each other, step apart so they're no longer entwined.

"Be right there, Rob," Steve says.

Eddie lights another cigarette. "You should go in," he says.

"Yeah." Steve nods, won't look in Eddie's direction. "Merry Christmas," he says, walks back toward the house.

He thunks his head against the red-brick of the house, staring up at the gleaming white lights lining the edge of the roof, finally letting the tears fall.

"Merry-fucking-Christmas," he echoes.

[bobgasm]

kingpin ⦾ one

pairing: robert “bob” floyd x ofc!emery young word count: 3032 warnings: vague backstory, unintentional eavesdropping,

summary: in which emery is privy to a conversation she wishes she’d never heard

author’s note: tysm again to @just-in-case-iloveyou for beta’ing this part!

prologue | kingpin | two

15 YEARS LATER

Emery rolled her shoulders as she knelt a little straighter, trying to relieve the tension that had built in her upper back from scrubbing the walls of the shower. It was the worst part about working as a cleaner, in her opinion. Showers were fucking disgusting, but also the most satisfying to clean, after a filthy oven of course. 

She pulled her gloves off and reached for the shower hose, rinsing the tiled walls and glass divider. Watching the soap and grime wash down the drain before making sure the floor was no longer covered in any mess or product. Turning the water off, she reached for the squeegee to blade the water droplets from the walls and divider before drying the floor. 

It was the last thing she needed to do in the bathroom before being able to vacuum and mop. Once that was done, she’d be able to break for lunch.

Emery hated working on a Sunday, but she’d been forced to take on the extra day in order to pay her bills on time. Even if the cleaning job was the last thing she ever saw herself doing, her degree was sitting there gathering dust and refusing to pay rent or utilities.

She’d been struggling to land a full time accounting job for months now. In fact, she was closing in on a year since graduating and the only thing she had to show for it was a lousy certificate she had framed and hidden in her closet.

It was one hell of an expense, that was for sure. 

As she packed away her things, she made sure the house was locked before climbing into her car. It was an older Toyota Corolla that had seen better days, but it was all she’d been able to afford at the time. Even though the mileage was climbing up, and the passenger side window no longer rolled down, the car never died on her. She counted her blessings for it every day, relying heavily on it for her work.

Sunday’s were a slow day with only three homes on her rotation, but they were much larger than what she cleaned during the week. All located in the same gated community, they took almost three hours each to clean. Some days the owners had thrown a party the night before, which meant there was extra work to do to bring the house back to its former pristine glory. 

Obviously, it meant the three hour timeframe she’d allotted herself crept towards the four and a half hour mark. That was all reflected in the bill, however. The owners understood that doing dishes or taking out rubbish wasn’t a part of the service she offered, but if they were willing to pay the additional cost? Emery was more than happy to work a longer day.

Thankfully, this week no one had thrown a last minute party. It meant her day was a lot shorter, so she could catch the last spin class of the day that the local gym offered. 

Emery kept her gym bag in the car. She hated leaving her cleaning supplies in plain sight, so she always parked beneath the only security camera in the parking lot. She didn’t have the money to replace her vacuum, or the time to deal with claiming insurance for it or any necessary repairs her car might need. She was cautious. 

She quickly changed into her gym gear in the changing rooms before stowing her bag in a locker and taking the time to fill her water bottle. 

The gym was relatively quiet for 6pm on a Sunday evening. There were a few people stationed at different machines in different stages of their workouts, but Emery knew the class would be full. She always tried to take at least two classes a week so that the membership she paid for didn’t go to complete waste, but sometimes life got in the way. Sometimes other bills had to take precedence. 

Luckily for her, Emery’s sister, Natasha, worked at the gym. She always made sure Emery’s late fee was waived if the payment bounced because she knew how hard she worked to keep herself afloat. Sometimes, she even paid the fee herself. Emery was too proud to ask, so Natasha never mentioned it. Never made her feel like Emery owed her anything – she was kind and helping out a friend. That’s all there was to it.

When Emery walked into the class, she picked a bike and started doing some stretches. Warming up her muscles before the intense 45 minute class that would likely leave her sore the next day – they always did.

“Hey, Em,” Natasha greeted her with a friendly smile. “You ready for another brutal class?”

“I’m barely recovered from the last one,” Emery joked. “I was barely able to walk up the stairs on Thursday.”

Natasha laughed softly. “Good thing you have the morning off tomorrow, huh?”

Emery had taken the mid-afternoon class on Wednesday. She only worked until midday, so it made it possible to grab an earlier class. The only issue with that was she hadn’t busted her ass cleaning all day – her muscles hadn’t been as warmed up as she’d typically liked. It made Thursday an absolute mission to get through. 

Despite that, she still felt good for attending the class, even if she’d cursed Nat out most of the following day.

After Emery had finished her stretches, the rest of the class had shown up. She climbed up onto the bike and followed along to Nat’s instructions.

Natasha Trace had been one of Emery’s foster siblings. Emery had hated almost every kid she’d met while in foster care, but somehow, Natasha had gotten through to her. Perhaps it was their similar stories. Perhaps it was that they were the only two girls at the home. She couldn’t tell you exactly what it was, just that she was glad to have Nat in her life. She’d always wanted a sister and now she had one.

Despite their connection, Natasha never took it easy on Emery. She always made sure she was pushing herself to be better, to do better. Whether it was applying to college, or kicking her ass in a spin class, Natasha wanted to see Emery succeed. She was her biggest supporter, and Emery was hers. They had each other’s backs; they were family, though not by blood, but by choice. 

Emery always felt like she was dying by the time Nat instructed everyone to start their warm down circuit. She gulped down mouthfuls of water and glared daggers at Nat, wondering how they’d just done the same class, but she was still breathing and talking normally. Emery knew that if she tried to speak, she’d be panting the words out. 

With the class finished, Emery slid carefully off the bike and started helping Natasha wipe down all the equipment. Nat could do it herself, but Emery enjoyed the company. Ever since she got her own place it was like they barely saw each other anymore, so she cherished whatever time she got with Nat.

“Great job today,” Natasha praised. “I know it’s hard work, but it’s paying off. Your ass and thighs look so toned.”

Emery laughed as she sprayed another bike seat before grabbing a paper towel to wipe it down. “Yeah, I’m sure my two classes a week are really showing.”

“They are,” Nat assured her. “Especially in those tights.”

Emery snorted. “Thanks.”

Natasha didn’t push any further. “How was work today?”

“Work was work,” she replied. “I applied to four more jobs this week, but haven’t heard anything back yet. I’m not sure that I will, since no one else has gotten back to me in months.”

“Do you want to rant or hear my big sister speech again?” Natasha asked.

Emery threw a few dirty paper towels in the bin by the door. “Neither. It’s a pity party for one kind of deal right now.”

“Okay, well, since I’m not invited to the pity party, why don’t you come over one night this week and we’ll make dinner? Have some wine and a sleepover, like we used to?” Natasha offered. It was a sweet offer, really. One Emery desperately wanted to agree to, but Natasha sensed her hesitation. “I know you’re not too cool for a sleepover, so what is it?”

“Just a lot on my mind,” Emery replied. “Thursday night? I want tacos.”

“Tacos it is,” Natasha agreed.

Emery said her goodbyes and grabbed her things, ready to head home for a shower. Her stomach growled the second she reached for her bag in the locker, so she settled it with some more water for the time being. She needed a shower before she thought about dinner, which was likely going to be food from the diner down the street. Cooking wasn’t a skill she necessarily possessed, though she could handle very basic recipes. Her college years proved that she was innovative, but not exactly the next Roy Choi. 

The drive home went quickly and she pulled into her designated parking spot. Making sure to grab her vacuum from the car before locking up and heading inside. 

While the parking was semi-covered, anyone could walk in off the street. The vacuum had been a necessary expense and the last thing she wanted was for it to be stolen. The chances of it happening were slim, but the area she lived in wasn’t the best, however, it was all she could afford. 

Emery’s apartment was a small studio on the third floor, and luck just wasn’t on her side. She groaned at the ‘out of order’ sign taped to the elevator, legs already feeling like jelly from the spin class, and now she had to climb three flights of stairs. Brilliant. 

Her apartment didn’t house much in the way of personal belongings. Her bed was a fold out sofa she’d bought second hand, and it beat the air mattress she’d been using for the first three months of living in her apartment. Natasha had helped her bring the sofa back to her place and had insisted that Emery let her buy a replacement mattress for it. The one it came with was yellow and gross, so they’d pumped the air mattress up so it could sit on top of the actual mattress just for the time being. 

Nat had kept her word and bought a new mattress for the couch, and had hired a rug doctor to properly clean the rest of the couch. Emery had thanked her with wine and a roast dinner – one of the only proper meals she knew how to cook, but she still felt like she owed Nat. 

The mattress was lovely, though extravagant. Nat never told Emery how much it cost, and she never would, because it was a gift. Sure, it was a bit much for a housewarming/birthday gift, but Emery needed it. Nat told her she wouldn’t be able to sleep at night knowing she was sleeping on a filthy old sofa bed without at least trying to make it less disgusting. 

There was a small tv perched on a chest of drawers and a washing hamper full of dirty clothes that needed a trip to the laundromat. Her fridge usually only housed bottles of water, some yoghurt and enough to make a few sandwiches for lunch during the week. She needed to go grocery shopping tomorrow, so she wasn’t worried about her poorly-stocked fridge. 

Grabbing a fresh bottle of water after locking the door behind her, she placed the vacuum in the kitchenette and moved to the bathroom. Already thinking about the food she was going to order at the diner, she wasted no time showering. Washing her hair with the last few dregs of product from the bottle of shampoo. Lathering her body in a coconut body wash she’d been gifted by a client for her birthday, that she’d refused to touch until she was completely out of her lavender one. Making sure to massage her calves and feet before stepping out of the shower and wrapping a towel around her body and her twisting hair up in another. 

Emery changed into a pair of sweatpants and an old tee that had seen better days. It had a couple of small holes around the neckline and the hem had been ripped, but it was easily one of her favourite tees. She towel dried her hair as best as she could before tying it in a loose braid and slipping her feet into a pair of old sneakers. Grabbing her keys, phone and some cash, she locked up and made her way downstairs to the diner a couple blocks away. 

The night had cooled some but not a lot. Emery was still warm from her shower and prior exercise, so she enjoyed the cooler temperature as she walked. Passing the few stores that were still open at this time of night and enjoying the aromas of Mexican or Chinese food. Her stomach growled vehemently, mouth watering. Proper takeout was a once in a blue moon kind of expense, and when she felt like she deserved to splurge a little bit, she always got extra so she could eat it the following day. 

Lila, one of the waitresses, smiled at Emery as she opened the door of the diner. Emery gave her a small wave before showing herself to a table, knowing Lila would be over to check on her once she’d finished up with her other customers. 

“Hey, Em,” Lila greeted. “Your usual again?”

Emery smiled in acknowledgement. “Yes please, and a side of onion rings tonight,” she replied. 

“Coming right up,” Lila assured her, walking off to hand the ticket to the kitchen to start making.

Emery sighed and slumped in her chair, resting her forearms on the slightly sticky table as she scrolled through her phone, searching for any new job listings. A lot of the higher paying accounting jobs were located closer to Los Angeles, but it also meant if she moved, her rent would practically double. Still, the offer of full time work doing what she loved for a starting salary in the high double digits was very tempting. It definitely beat housekeeping, that’s for sure.

Deciding to just bite the bullet, she applied for a couple of roles. Attaching her CV, typing a cover letter that she copied and pasted for each other application, and finally submitting them one by one. Hoping for at least a call back so she could decide one way or another if moving was actually going to be worthwhile.

Emery looked up from her phone as Lila brought her a glass of water, thanking her briefly. Continuing her search, if only to pass the time while waiting for her food to come out. 

She tried not to listen to the man a couple tables over talking into his phone. He was clearly trying to be quiet but failing as his voice continued to rise with his blood pressure. He spewed out accounting terminology in rapid succession, and even as Emery tried to paint a mental picture in her head, she knew shit wasn’t adding up.

“They’re clueless about what I’ve done,” he spoke into the phone. 

Emery was careful enough to pretend she wasn’t listening, bopping her head along to the low music playing from the tinny radio. If he looked at her, he’d assume she wasn’t able to hear him. Whatever he’d done wasn’t something she wanted to involve herself with.

She thanked Lila as her burger was placed in front of her, straining to keep listening to the conversation. Still, she kept the smile on her face even as her blood chilled at the mention of siphoning funds from Floyd followed by something she only understood as a building term. She picked up an onion ring and bit into it, hoping like hell the guy didn’t realise he was speaking louder than he probably anticipated. 

“It’s all set. The payment is untraceable and the account is offshore. Even if they wanted to, they’d never be able to get it back,” he bragged. 

Emery swallowed her mouthful and chased it with some water, his words leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. 

“Yeah, well over 5 mil,” he continued. Emery saw him shift in the corner of her eye as she picked up her burger and took a large bite. His voice dropped down an octave as he spoke again, “I’m on the next bus out of here in two hours. You remember the rendezvous point, right?”

He hummed at whatever the person on the other end of the call said. “If you don’t hear from me in 12 hours, there’s a go-bag under the creaky floorboard in the bedroom. It has everything you’ll need to travel to Ecuador without being followed.”

It was hard to hear him over her own chewing, but she tried desperately not to look. If he so much as thought she’d heard a peep, she knew nothing good would come of it. He was deep in something she wanted no part of. 

Emery signaled to Lila, asking her for a diet coke when she walked over.

“Of course, hon. How’s everything?” Lila asked politely. 

Emery was grateful she’d had the mind to bring her over. “Great, thank you,” she replied with a smile. “Can you save me a slice of pie to take home? I probably shouldn’t, but you know I can’t resist.”

Lila laughed and placed a friendly hand on her shoulder. “I’ll pop a slice in a takeaway container for you, just let me know when you’re ready to close out. I’ll be back with your soda in a sec.”

The man had breezed past the two women during the small interaction, and Emery had watched him leave before quickly diverting her attention to her meal. She didn’t know why she’d even looked – she didn’t want to get involved. She didn’t have any desire to seek out this Floyd person and tell them what she’d overheard. She just wanted to eat her damned meal in peace.

[heartfucksmouth]

so my mil def overheard my meltdown yesterday and she's been quiet and meek and I can tell she had been emotional. before she left for work this morning she mentioned it and said if she can do anything to help me be happy living here she'll do it. but like... you wont?? how you act 99% of the time makes me unhappy and uncomfortable and like I'm being judged??

my mom said maybe it's good bc she needs the reminder... but it's exhausting bc my mil needs a reminder every 2 months to stop being a miserable asshole bc she's insecure af (and super trashy conservative White Woman) and it's not my goddamn job to be her mirror or her life coach or whatever the fuck this is

I don't *want* to dislike her, I don't want the stereotypical shitty mil relationship, I don't want to be uncooperative or hard to live with, but I also can't deny the feeling she gives me in my gut. Shea a fucking asshole and she doesn't even know it (or denies it bc she can't confront herself) and like. if she's spent 50 years this way, I'm not holding my breath that she'll change.

she's everything I despise.

she's racist, sexist, ableist, hypocritical, she's inauthentic always, fragile af, she lives her life in fear and speaks incredibly confidently about things she knows nothing about,

shes a hoarder of toilet paper among other things, shes a terrible cook and thinks salting food will give you a heart attack and she cooks meat while it isnt completely thawed so its dry af, she complains about everything and does nothing to change it,

shes self employed and has no financial plan for retirement besides relying on her husband (and son?). she charges us ridiculous rent so we'll never save up and leave, she yells and swears at her dog for doing dog things and uses intimidation to make him behave, she refuses to clean her house "unless someone pays" bc shes a house cleaner for other people,

she moves my shit and we essentially dont have evidence that we exist in the house except in our room (me and myles would have to bring our shower stuff into the bathroom every time until i bought a shower caddy and hung it up without asking), she once threw away myles toothbrush bc she "was sick of looking at it," if anything is wrong or broken or missing its ALWAYS myles fault, she expects myles to bring in the groceries every day even if its one bag,

she'll do all the dishes but leave aidans bottles for me to do, she insists aidan will die if he doesnt wear socks, she sits him in front of the tv and leaves him there, she lets him cry and tells him hes fine while refusing to pick him up to comfort him, she only knows how to make him fall asleep with a bottle and once hes asleep she puts him down, but she's pro-life and tried to use Aidan being born as further proof supporting her belief ..

she's a Trump supporter. STILL. I should have just lead with that. I could go on for a while longer but I'm exhausted.

idk. idk what to do. I'm just going the way I did with my dad and trying to feel nothing for her. I get that she's human and flawed and has her own shit and she's fucked up and insecure but like. I don't care? I don't want to cater to it or live with it or expose my child to it. I feel guilt for it, but I'm not going sacrifice myself to make others comfortable anymore.

I really hate this.

[tikus-library]

"Vulnerable"

Avengers AU - Drabble

Characters: Clint, reader, ft. Nat & Tony

Posted: Feb 28th

WARNINGS: mentions of abuse, domestic violence, ANGST, physical violence

Like, Comments, & Reblogs are always appreciated and loved.

**Please Do Not Repost or 'Fix' My Work**

@witchygagirl ya know I had to go for angst... (sorry about the gif I couldn't find it when looking)

Clint took in a shaky breath and clutched the edge of the counter until his knuckles turned white. He knew better than to have an outburst, you were already in enough shit, he didn't need to scare you, but… god fucking dammit. He took in another slower breath. The only noise in the room was the barely there sound of the air running through the vents and his deep breathing. He closed his eyes and moved slowly, looking over his shoulder at you.

You hadn't moved. Nor sound had escaped you. He doubted you had even blinked and he wasn't sure if you were even breathing but since you hadn't keeled over he guessed you were breathing…

Tony and Nat were the only ones to know. He had snuck you in with their help. Slowly he unbuttoned the top of his shirt, rolling his sleeves up. You had to be in shock. Fuck. His stomach turned at the memory of the phone call.

**

He had been mid recon mission when your call came through. Not even outside the city, he had found it odd that you were calling him, but he still answered.

At first it had seemed like you had mistakenly butt dialed him when he answered and there was no sound. He had frowned at his phone, about to hang up when his gut churned, he didn't like the feeling that came over him.

He had been on his feet in seconds, making a beeline for the building's elevator and ignoring the startled shout from his hostess.

"Y/N? Y/N answer me!" He had demanded.

But you hadn't.

Instead he heard a few noises that sounded like shit falling to the ground, the unmistakable sound of a grunt and then you had cursed.

Now you sat stone still on the edge of the medical table. He took in another shaky breath before he filled the little tub with water, leaving it to pull out the wound cleaner and a few bandages. You looked small, frail, vulnerable. His throat tightened. He didn't like that.

He set the items he had grabbed near you on the small roll around table and went back to turn off the water and pulled out the small tub. He carefully dumped some of it out and dropped a clean towel into it, moving back towards you and setting the tub down. "Hey," he disliked the way you didn't react. "Gonna clean you up now, this might hurt a bit." Still you didn't move.

He started with your hands. Your knuckles were cracked and bloody, he used the wound care spray to clean those up, twisting the clean towel free of excess water and carefully cleaning them. He moved the warm towel over your fingers, your skin bruised and scratch marks littered your arms which he worked on next.

You had put up a fight. He was proud of you. Of course you had. He sucked in a breath when he lifted your chin, your right eye was swollen and already bruising, not that you couldn't see though. Clint carefully cleaned the dry blood from your lip, grateful your nose wasn't broken.

**

Friday directed him to your apartment when he asked her to trace your phone call. The one he hadn't hung up on, the one where he listened intently, bearing witness to the sound of an all out brawl on the other end. Punctuated by curses from both parties, his chest seizing every time you screamed, he wasn't sure if it was just in anger or if you were truly terrified.

Then it got quiet.

HE was terrified.

Did you know he was on the way?

The door to your apartment wasn't locked, it had been left open, he imagined your boyfriend had run, carefully he stepped in.

**

You blinked as he worked diligently to clean the blood from your face, carefully undressing you. Wrapping gauze around your knuckles, a small bandage above your eyebrow, others along your forearms. Clint had seen you in your underwear plenty of times. Changing during missions, training, there had been the time the both of you had landed in that frozen lake; he had seen you after missions, cut and beaten- laughter bubbling up out of you. But these bruises? He carefully dressed you in the clean clothes Natasha had set out before leaving quietly.

Deadly silent as Tony turned on his heel to follow.

Clint knew that silence.

They had business to take care of.

He had you to take care of. He flinched at the site of fist sized bruises along your torso. His jaw ticking as he looked away.

"I'm alright," your voice was scratchy, you knew there would be bruises forming in the shape of fingers around your neck soon if they hadn't already shown up.

Clint's blue eyes crashed into your gaze, he looked shocked. That you had spoken?

"I'm not broken. I fought him off."

"He never should have touched you," he bit out harshly.

You swallowed. Your words were thick when you spoke, "I turned my back, my fault."

It had been stupid. You hadn't gotten dinner or made it. He had been hungry and you told him to order take out. The first hit had been along your ribs, knocking the wind out of you, he had taken advantage of that and shoved you forwards into the cabinets, hence the black eye and split lip.

"He never hit me before," you explained when Clint closed his eyes and turned his head away from you. It had completely taken you by surprise. "I mean– we rough housed, but that was just playing, he never really meant it."

Clint took a step back away from you. Hands clenching at his sides.

Panic swamped you. Real panic. You hadn't felt that when you were fighting your boyfriend in your apartment, not even when he got you on the ground and wrapped his hands around your throat.

But Clint backing away from you– in disgust? Disappointment? Tears sprung unbidden, your breathing hitched, "Clint…" your voice came out in a small whimper, "I'm sorry" you had dialed him without really thinking, about to end the call when you remembered he was on a recon mission and then… Craig had been right. You were a bother. Useless. Had to have one of your avenger buddies come save you.

But you had fought him off hadn't you? The last thing you remembered was hitting him as he strangled you. "OH," you hadn't fought him off. You had passed out under him.

"Do you know how it felt to see you like that?" He asked, voice thick.

"I'm sorry." The words hung in the air between the two of you, the sound of the air sifting through quietly.

You clenched the edge of the medical table unable to look at him as he mapped your face, memorizing each and every bruise.

Clint bit back the words that clawed at his throat, I love you, I wouldn't treat you like this. Instead he wrapped an arm around your waist and helped you to your feet. "Let's get you to bed."

"Thanks."