#drives or tows the belt

[unearthly-doting]

yandere farmer

a/n: smth smth i Really like people w southern accents smth smth so here's a farmer. im not 100% satisfied w this one but it's been in my drafts for so long so here it is.

warnings: mdni, not proofread, yandere content, gn reader, male yandere, idk how cars work so, overprotective behavior, obsessive behavior, reader has hair in this sorry if u dont, murder, brief mention of vomit, non-con kissing, mild depictions of gore, choking, i think that's it??

— maybe it's a bit cliché but life in the big city was exhausting, and all you wanted to do was get away from it all. it was a bit sudden, deciding you wanted to uproot your entire life and start somewhere new, but you knew that this is exactly what you needed.

— and it's not as if you weren't going into this blind. a friend of yours had a family vacation home in a small farm town that hadn't been used in years, and they were willing to let you stay there until you could find a place of your own.

— you had everything planned out. you had enough money on you for gas and food for the drive there, and you had already had some of your stuff shipped off to your new temporary home, so you didn't have to worry about leaving anything behind. you even kept a little extra money on you in case you needed to crash at a motel.

— the drive had started off fine. traffic wasn't too bad as you left the city, and there were no major setbacks until you were almost at your destination. when you were 20 miles out from the farmer town you'd be living in, your car just suddenly died on you. it still had gas in the tank, and there didn't seem to be anything wrong with the car itself, it just… died.

— what's worse is the fact that your phone had no service. you suppose that's not too shocking, considering how far out in the country you are, but it's a bit shocking, isn't it? you're not that educated on farming life or this small town, but surely they had modern technology, right?

— it's cliché, honestly. it felt like the start of some cheap slasher. or maybe a southern christmas romance movie. you're not quite sure which would be worse. the slasher, realistically. whatever, you're getting off track.

— the point is, your car is dead, your phone is useless, and it's starting to get dark. you could probably make it to that motel you saw a few miles back, but you didn't really feel comfortable leaving your car out here alone. not to mention you're not even sure if you have enough money on you to cover one night at a motel.

— the universe, in all her mercy, takes pity on you before you can get too upset over your plight, because not even 20 minutes after your car stops, a truck drives by. it's beat up, but it slows to a stop next to your car. the window rolls down, revealing the driver to be a man just a little older than you.

— he asked if you needed help, and offered to tow your car and drive you to town. you didn't have much choice but to agree, and the drive to town was… not as awkward as you thought it would be, actually.

— the man introduced himself as rigby shaw, a farmer that lives on the outskirts of town. you actually drove by his farm maybe 15 miles back, and he had been heading into town to pick up some medication for one of his dogs when he saw you pacing outside your car. in turn, you told him how you were moving into the small town because life in the city had been overwhelming.

— rigby didn't think you'd survive long outside of the city. city folk rarely ever strive in small, out of touch towns, away from modern technology. the small handful that made their way here always went back to the city not even three months into being here, so he didn't expect to see you last long either. you were nicer than most city folk, though.

— but you were determined to make a living out here, so when rigby dropped you off, you got to work immediately. you unpacked your stuff that had been there waiting for you, and in the morning, you got to work trying to fix your car. turns out, your fan belt had somehow come loose just enough that your car could no longer function. why? who knows, maybe the universe was in a silly mood.

— anyways, you settled into the small town life with relative ease, and rigby was very surprised when he returned to town a few weeks later, you were still there. the only thing you were struggling with was finding a job. maybe because he was fascinated by your determination, but rigby ended up offering you a job on his farm. he did need help taking care of the crops and feeding the animals there, but he mostly just wanted to learn more about you.

— you were a fast learner, and his dogs took to you fairly quickly. the cattle and horses were a little less trusting, though that was expected. he's sure they'll take to you soon enough, given how you respect their boundaries and go at their pace unlike his previous farmhands. you had no problem taking on any challenge rigby had set up for you, and maybe that's when he started finding himself thinking about you.

— if he's out in town while you're on the farm, he's worrying that you might get injured without him around. you can take care of yourself, but he can't help but worry. same for when you're in town while he's on the farm. you’re still an outsider there, and he knows that some of the townsfolk may try scaring you off. or maybe they'll try hurting you. or maybe you'll be completely fine and he's just overreacting.

— he starts hovering around you more often when you're on his farm, jumping in to help you whenever he thinks you might be struggling with something. you think he's just worried you might fuck his crops up or something, so you never really pay much mind to his behavior. it only struck you as odd when he insisted on helping you feed the dogs of all things. was he scared you would poison them? you wouldn't, obviously, so you don't know why he'd think that.

— his behavior only seems to escalate when you meet a guy in town one day and start going on casual dates with him. he was… shocked, when you asked to take the day off because of some guy. in the months that you've been living in town, you had never shown any interest in pursuing a romantic relationship with… anyone, truly. you had always seemed so dedicated to working on the farm and making a living for yourself, rigby had never even considered you could want anything other than that.

— at first, he felt disappointed. why would you prioritize dates with some guy when you could be working on the farm with him instead? it took him a bit to realize that disappointment he was feeling was jealousy. he hated when you'd step away from him to accept calls from your new boyfriend. he hated how you stopped eating lunch with him in favor of eating it with your boyfriend.

— your boyfriend wasn't even that great of a guy. rigby did some research on him–it's not stalking, he's just making sure it's safe for you to date this guy!–and he was not pleased with what he found. you could do so much better! you didn't understand why rigby was so interested in your boyfriend, always asking questions about how he treats you, if he's really what you're looking for in a relationship, if you actually loved him…

— you couldn't help but notice how touchy rigby has become as well, his hands always lingering on you far too long when he helps you with your work. you swear that you've heard him smell your hair a few times when he's close as well. he's been acting weird ever since you officially started dating your boyfriend. he's even going as far as to pile more work on top of you, leaving little free time for you to spend with your lover.

— it's gotten unbearable to the point where you decided you ultimately needed to find a new place to work. you liked rigby, he was a great guy with a kind heart, but his behavior was bordering on obsession and you didn't want to enable this behavior by ignoring it. your boyfriend agreed, and with his help, you were able to find a job at the local market in town.

— rigby was not pleased when he heard you on the phone with your lover, talking about how you'd tell him you were quitting after you finished work.

You're not really sure what happened. One moment, you were on the phone with your boyfriend and then the next, you were being hit in the head and everything had gone dark. The sun had only just started setting when you had been knocked out, but it was completely dark outside when you had woken up.

Your head was pounding as you opened your eyes, looking around in an attempt to figure out what the hell had happened to you. You were still on the farm, that much you knew. The first thing that worried you was the fact that your hands were bound to a wooden post, leaving you unable to move without injuring yourself. Your phone was broken on the ground, so it was completely useless.

Did a trespasser knock you out? It's not the first person people have trespassed on the farm, trying to steal the horses or ‘save’ the animals Rigby had. You had assumed that to be the case, because… what else could have happened for you to be tied up like this?

“Rigby?!” You shout his name, wincing at the throbbing in your head as you did so. Was he okay? Was he hurt? What if something happened to him? What if–

Your panicked thoughts get put on pause when a light blinded you, and you shied away from it as best as you could as you tried to figure out its source. It seemed to be a flashlight, and you only realized who was holding it when they got closer.

For a moment, you relaxed at the sight of Rigby, relieved to see he was okay as he approached, though there was something off about him. Maybe it was the fact that he didn't seem injured, yet there was blood on his hands. Or maybe it was the… borderline crazed look in his eyes.

Something wasn't right.

“Rigby…?” You hesitantly called his name, your relief bleeding away into a reluctant unease, “Are you okay? What happened? Why am I tied up?”

His silence did little to help you as he set his flashlight down on the ground and started undoing your binds. Your wrists felt raw as you gently rubbed them once they were free, standing up while Rigby retrieved his flashlight.

“Rigby, what the hell is going on?” You ask, growing frustrated at being left in the dark. You had been knocked out and tied up, so you think you deserve some sort of explanation as to what had happened.

“I have a gift for you.” Rigby says, completely dodging your question as he grabbed your wrist and pulled you after him. His grip was tight, almost bruising as he dragged you along, ignoring you when you asked him to loosen his grip on you. He refused to answer any of your questions, and you were starting to get worried.

You've never been scared of Rigby. Sure, his behavior lately had been concerning, but you had no reason to be scared. But right now, you couldn't help but feel a bit afraid as he led you in the dark. Your concern only grew when you realized he was taking you to the barn the pigs were kept in.

“Will you just tell me what's going on?” Your words fall upon deaf ears as he passes the flashlight to you, motioning for you to take the lead as he opens the barn doors. You hesitate before shining the flashlight in the barn, slowly stepping forward.

Most of the pigs were sleeping in their own separate stalls, a few were watching you and Rigby with indifference as you both stepped deeper into the barn. But two things stood out to you. One, a handful of pigs were nowhere to be seen. Two, there was this weird… squelching sound coming from the back of the barn.

“It's just back there.” Rigby says, his breath hitting the back of your neck and causing you to jump. You hadn't even realized how close he had gotten. You scurry forward just to get some distance. Truthfully, you didn't want to see this ‘gift’ Rigby was talking about, but you knew that you couldn't turn back.

Deep down, you knew something horrible was about to happen. The squelching sound grew louder, and you could hear the sound of chewing along with it. When you looked back at Rigby for some sort of reassurance, he just had this strange smile on his face. It sent a chill down your spine.

And when you hesitantly looked in the last stall at the very back of the barn to see the source of the noise, your ‘gift’, you dropped the flashlight in horror and let out a scream as you stumbled back right into Rigby's arms.

On the ground was your boyfriend's corpse, his face nearly maimed beyond recognition as several pigs chewed at his body. You're lucky you're able to swallow the vomit in your throat as you try to get out of Rigby's hold, looking away from the horrific scene in front of you as you cried.

“Let go of me!” You claw at his arms, but he just holds you tightly against his chest, gently shushing you as he forces you to watch the pigs eat.

“Do you like it?” He asks, completely ignoring your horror, “It wasn't hard getting him to come here. I just told him you had an accident, and suddenly, he was on his way. Isn't that sweet? It's a shame he wasn't stronger… he never would've been able to protect you if someone tried hurting you. But I can, see? I can give you what you deserve.”

You weren't even listening to his deluded words, trying to squirm out of his hold, “You're a fucking monster.” You spit out, a sharp gasp being torn out of your mouth when he shoves you against the wall of the barn, his hand around your throat as he lightly squeezes. A subtle threat, one that had you shutting up.

“I expect some fucking gratitude, you ungrateful brat.” Rigby’s voice is cold, his anger had never been something you'd ever been on the receiving end of, “I did this for you. For us. You should be thanking me.” His hand on your throat tightens, squeezing the air out of your lungs, his gaze hard as he stares at you expectantly.

Desperate for air, you're barely able to wheeze out a small, “Thank you.”

As black spots start to fill your vision, Rigby removes his hand from your neck, and you're able to breathe again. His anger was gone, replaced with delighted satisfaction.

“Of course, darlin’.” He sweetly says, a bloodied hand coming up to gently wipe the tears off your face, “I'd do anything for you. I can provide for you, so just be good for me in return, okay?”

And as he pulls you into a kiss, his lips pressing against yours with a heated desperation, you find yourself missing the city for the first time since you left it.

[luvgavii]

the color violet - (pg6)

summary: your ex boyfriend picks you up from an event and takes you home.

warning: smut!!! minors do not interact!!

The only sound in your ear was the rain hitting the pavement of the Catalan city. Your hair and dress were drenched, your make up smeared and you held your heels in your hand while waiting for your ex boyfriend to pick you up. Why him? Well, it wasn't practical for someone as famous as you to take an Uber home in the middle of the night, was it?

Truthfully, you and Pablo could never quite stay away from the other. Ever since you two had broken up mutually, it felt like you two got along even better. You two were healthier, you didn't need to deal with his constant jealousy and he seemed to enjoy his freedom, it was a win-win situation.

When you called him, about 30 minutes ago, he picked up on the 3rd ring and he was in the car the second he hung up the phone. Sure, he was a famous footballer in his early 20s who loved women and loved having fun, but there wasn't anything Pablo wouldn't do for you, in a relationship or not, he'd give you the moon and the sun if he could.

"Get in, bonita," he said as he rolled down the passenger window to look at you from his expensive car, his left hand on the steering wheel while the right was on his thigh.

You sat in the car and you practically heard Pablo's hiss as the leather seats got drenched under you.

"Thanks for picking me up," you said dragging your voice as Pablo started the car, his eyes never leaving the wet road, your own eyes watching the rain drops on the windshield.

"You're welcome, you know I don't mind," he spoke with his little Spanish accent, the small acting already sending a jolt of pleasure from your stomach to the spot between your thighs.

The rest of the drive was silent, you watched the wet road, the puddles, the lights of Barcelona, anything but the football player because you knew that one look was enough for him to pull over and for you to ride him right there, in the driver seat. It didn't stop you before. Pablo kept stealing glances at you, a small smirk on his face, the strip of three condoms in his pocket were proof that the thought of picking you up was not so innocent.

One thing leading to the other and you two were stumbling across the hallway of your apartment complex, trying to get to your door as he walked you towards it. His hands on your waist, yours around his neck as you kissed sloppily, the sounds of your kisses echoing through the hallway.

Pablo pushed you against the door, the wood cold against your bare back as you searched your purse for your keys, your hand moving over Pablo's boner and making him groan into your mouth.

"Your keys are definitely not there," he spoke lowly but with a hint of amusement, making you chuckle breathlessly before taking your keys out and twisting the doorknob, Pablo almost pushing you inside and his lips attacking yours once again.

Your hands were everywhere, his brown hair, his shoulders, his chest, his belt while trying to pull him closer to you.

"You always were impatient, nena," he hummed with a smirk, his fingers running through your wet hair while his other hand cupped your breast, caressing it over the material of your dress as his brown orbs were glued to your face, watching your lips part as a small moan escaped them, a sound only Pablo was able to get out of you.

His lips parted, dropping to your shoulder as his finger hooked in the strap of your dress, pulling it off your shoulder and replacing it with his warm, soft lips. Your head fell back, your fingers hooking in his hair, making him smirk against your silky skin as he continued to press wet kisses to your shoulder.

"Bedroom," he murmured, his hand creeping shamelessly behind you and pulling the zipper of your dress down, letting the light material fall off your body, revealing your bare chest and violet, lacy underwear, the very pair that was his personal favorite.

You nodded, immediately walking towards the stairs of your penthouse, Pablo following closely behind you, smacking your ass as you neared the bedroom, the skin to skin sound filling the air.

In your bedroom, Pablo sat on the edge of the bed, his legs spread the tiniest bit so you could stand between them as he caressed your near naked body. His rough hands roamed over your ass and thighs, squeezing as he did so, his mouth catching your nipple, all while he looked up at you and watched you fall apart on front of him.

His tongue circled your nipple as he hummed appreciatively, his hand squeezing your ass until you hissed, you looked down at him as he sucked on your nipple, your pupils dilated and your cheeks flushed.

"Pablo, I need you, please," you spoke quietly, the words slipping out of your mouth like a prayer.

"Get on all fours, hermosa," he said, your breast falling out of his mouth and his brown eyes looking up at you with such innocence it made your head spin. How can he look so innocent with those big eyes, yet so sinful at the same time?

You gulped and nodded, immediately taking the position on the bed, your ass up in the air while your cheek rested against a pillow. Pablo fidgeted with his pants, throwing the strip of condoms carelessly between the bedding before he stripped, throwing his shirt and pants somewhere in the room, he didn't look, his eyes were glued to your damp panties, your clothed core displayed perfectly in front of him.

"You're so ready for me, mi vida," he whispered, bending down and his finger running over the damp material before his finger hooked in the violet lace, pulling the panties to the side, his tongue running along your folds and making you moan and arch your back, pushing your pussy in his face as he ran his tongue up and down your core before pulling away.

Pablo delivered a smack to your ass as he stroked his cock, positioning himself behind you, running the tip of his dick along your wet folds, only making you moan in anticipation. He grabbed the condoms, opening one with his teeth and spitting the plastic out, rolling it onto his throbbing member.

He grabbed your hip as he began to push into you, feeling you stretch around his dick and cursing under his breath, praising you at how good you feel as your juices soaked him. You felt him hit every spot, your pussy clenching around him as you whimpered and moaned, knowing that Pablo Gavi would bring eternal bliss to you. Always.

"Mierda," Pablo hissed, picking up the pace, his skin slapping against yours louder with each movement, "I can't get enough of you."

Pablo Gavi was far from the most perfect man you've been with, he was jealousy, angry and possessive, but you wouldn't have it any other way. You were addicted and and just couldn't get enough.

[murdrdocs]

house calls

description. your mechanic, JAKE SERESIN, was nice enough to do a house call for you, but he still charges you double even if you don't have the money. luckily, he takes other forms of payment!

includes. SMUT 18+ MDNI, cnc roleplay, mechanic!jake, other forms of payment role play, consensual coercion, unprotected pnv, everything consensual!

wc. 1.8k+

a/n: this was a request ... supposed to have been like 500 words (blinks). ao3 link

"I didn't think mechanics took house calls."

It takes him a second to respond to you. At first, you didn't think he even heard you. You think your line was wasted, and you were about to add onto it until he grunts and lifts his head from under the hood of your car. 

"Usually we don't. But for a client as loyal as you..." He doesn't finish his sentence verbally, instead sending you a smirk, adjusting the towel over his shoulder, and then ducking his head back under. 

You watch him work, standing near the edge of your garage, leaning against the wall with your arms crossed. From where you stand you have a perfect view of him, watching the way his back muscles strain against the tainted white fabric of his tee shirt as he works on your car. His shirt lifts every so often, exposing the smallest line of his boxers and a bit of his back. 

"You know you don't have to hover, right?" He speaks into your engine, but you can still hear him well. "I'll take good care of her."

You believe him, you know you can trust him, but you still decide to stay with him. Mostly so you have an excuse to ogle, but you pretend it’s because you’re worried about the state of your car. 

“How’d it get this bad in the first place?” He asks you. 

You shrug. “I kept forgetting to put it in the shop.” I wanted to watch you fix it for me is what you don’t tell him. 

You offer him a drink at one point, giddily bouncing over to the garage fridge and pulling out a bottle of beer for him. You get the feeling that he knows what he's doing when he pops the cap off on his belt buckle. 

You really think he's putting on when he lets a droplet of beer glide down his chin, running down the tanned skin of his neck before finally being barricaded by the collar of his shirt. 

Not that you mind, though. 

He finishes off on your car in no time, letting the hood drop as he explains what he fixed. You just smile and nod, trusting that the problem is solved and you won't have to deal with it again. You're just about to go inside to grab your wallet, the cash to cover it stuffed in there, but then he turns to face you with his hands on your hips. 

"Now since it was a house call, it's gonna cost you extra. That alright?" 

You blink up at him, trying to ignore the sparkle in his eyes as he watches your expression. 

“How much extra?” 

He winces, as if his response will cost him pain. “Double.”

You take a breath, calming yourself. "... I don't have double. I thought we already agreed on a price?" 

He tuts. “That was before I had to drive all the way out here for you, sugar. Now it's double." 

You step closer to him, getting the first whiff of his scent—strong and masculine, a musk that blends well with whatever he's wearing, whether it be cologne or body wash. 

"But Jake, I don't have double. I only have what we agreed on. And I have bills to pay, I don't get paid until next week. I can get it to you then?" You're trying to plead, but even as you say it you don't sound convincing. You're a shit haggler, you can't even convince yourself. 

"'m sorry, sweetheart," the pet name drips with sweetness and faux sincerity, "But you're gonna have to pay me now or..."

He trails off and your eyebrows lift. "Or?" 

"Or I'll have my buddies come and tow this beauty," he jerks his head towards your car. "It's just policy." He has the audacity to lift his hands in a surrender, as if the change in price isn't all his fault. 

You take a second, trying not to let your distress show as you mull over your option. 

"Or—" Jake begins again, taking a final step closer until there's just an inch between you both. An inch between your clean shirt and his dirtied one. An inch between the hard planes of his chest and the soft planes of yours. 

You lift your eyebrows expectantly, waiting for what the suggestion to get you out of deep shit would be. 

"I can accept another form of payment." 

He takes your hand in his as he says it, trailing it down his chest until it rests over his belt buckle. 

You stare down at your hand, looking at the way your manicure shines along with the bronze coloring of his belt buckle. It says something, has a depiction of a man on a horse sandwiched between two lines of text. Without even needing to read it, you know which belt buckle it is. You've seen it many times before. 

“I don’t usually offer this deal to just anyone,” he says, as if you should feel special. Really, you’re just confused. Well, you know what he wants, but you refuse to believe it. 

"I … I don't—" 

Jake doesn’t buy it. "You do. You know what I'm askin' for." His accent slips out more and more. 

He reaches out, wrapping a hand around your hip, pulling you flush against him. "C'mon, I see the way you've been looking at me. I know you want it." 

You shake your head, staring up at him with your eyebrows pinched together and your lips parted. "I can't." He lifts his eyebrows, waiting for some sort of bullshit excuse. 

You give him one. "I have a boyfriend and he'll be home any moment."

He fucking laughs, right in your face, big and boisterous as he lowers his head, lips searching for yours. "We both know that's not true. If it were true, he would be a shit boyfriend. Can't even repair your car for you—" he sucks in air through his teeth, "you would deserve better, don't you think?"

The irony. 

You wrestle out of Jake's grasp, turning around and starting for the garage door. You don't get far before Jake pulls you back, his hips pressing into you, the boner prominent beneath his working jeans. He walks you towards the car, his left leg pushing against yours and the same with his right, until your thighs hit the front end.

"What d'you say, sweetheart? You gonna pay off your debt, or do I need to call the boys?"

You would try to call his bluff, but you’re scared. Scared that he’s telling the truth and not giving in will backfire on you. With the way he’s pressing his erection into your ass, do you even have a choice?

Of course you end up paying off your debt. Even the threat of having your precious car towed (and the excitement of it all) had you already inching your mini dress up your thighs. 

Jake barely had any patience to wait for you to close the garage door, shielding you from any stray passersby. He waited by your car, watching your every move through lidded eyes, his arms crossed over his chest and his hip cocked into the front end of your vehicle. And as soon as you were back, he had you turn around and bend over the car, your panties pulled down and pooled around your ankles, your dress lifted over your ass. 

He didn’t waste any time before sheathing himself completely into you. He sighed when he bottomed out, a deep groan melding well with your whimper. The moment he took to himself, one where he breathlessly laughed and complimented your grip on his cock, he let you adjust. 

You didn’t need long. 

Sounds of him fucking you quickly filled the garage. The clapping of your skin meeting, the shlick! of your cunt screaming as it got pounded, your breaths and moans. 

It feels so impersonal like this, getting fucked from the back on top of your car with the faint smell of chemicals in the air. But you like it like this. 

You like it when Jake wonders aloud if any of the neighbors can hear you. You like it when he suggests making "house calls" more often, especially if "coming all this way to fix your car" ends up with you spreading your pretty pussy for him. 

He brings his hand down and slaps your ass before lifting the fabric of your dress, using his free hand to pull one of your ass cheeks apart. 

"Jesus, look at that," he marvels, “Really working for it, aren't ya, sweetheart? Making it worth my while." He stops moving his hips, letting you do all of the work. You press your hands into the metal beneath you, gaining more leverage to fuck yourself back onto him. 

"I'll tell you what, this 's better than money, that's for sure.”

You agree, but you're so focused on fucking Jake that you refuse to use any attention for verbally responses, hoping a nod will suffice. 

It's fine, Jake talks enough for the both of you. 

“You’re leaking all around me. Making a mess of my jeans. What, you’re leaving your mark on me? Marking your spot?” His hand lays against your back, sliding up until he grips your neck from the back. “Don’t worry, I’ll reserve this for you. Best pussy I’ve ever had, I’ll tell you that for free. Turn around for me, sweetheart, I wanna see that pretty face.” 

You don’t hesitate to follow his orders, ending up with your back pressed into the car and your legs wrapped around Jake's waist. 

If y'all weren’t both nearing the edge, the position would be impractical, but it barely takes anything before you’re squeezing around Jake. 

He watches it happen, green eyes trained completely on watching your face morph into a depiction of pleasure as your back arches and you reach for him. He gives you whatever you can reach, letting you fist the fabric of his tee as your ankles hook behind his back. 

Having to shallow fuck you doesn’t deter Jake at all. He simply jackrabbits into you, pushing you through your orgasm while chasing his own. When it happens, he lets your insistent hand tug on his hair. His head rests against your tits spilling out over the neckline of your dress, his cock twitching inside of you as his hips weakly drive into yours with the final few thrusts. 

There's a routine at the end. Jake doesn’t speak until you do. He spends the silence cleaning you up, taking his shirt off and using the cleanest part of it to wipe away the cum from between your thighs. He realigns your dress after pulling your panties up, hands rubbing your arms as he kisses your forehead. 

“Is my car actually fixed?” you eventually ask him. 

Jake hums, pulling you into a hug and resting his chin on your forehead. “Sure is. Don’t let it get that bad again.” 

[who-knew-a-sheep-can-write]

Drunk & In Love: Arthur Morgan x Reader (NSFW)

Contains: Ambiguous gender for reader, sex, creampies(?)

A fire sat warmly deep within both of your beings. Alcohol sat heavy in your guts, the poison dulling your minds and numbing your sights and movements. Sluggish steps up a flight of creaking stairs with the man behind the counter rolling his eyes and attempting to bury himself with books and such alike as he knew what sort of debauchery would happen soon.

You both snatched at each other’s loose clothing, hands grabbing fistfuls of cotton and denim and leather of each others splayed open coats. Some alcohol had sploshed onto the fabric, staining light fabric to be a muddy brown under the dim lighting of the narrow hallway.

You both could hear the other rooms wake up to the sounds of you both staggering down them, inhabitants scoffing or stilling to listen for any chance to pray you both would just pass out instead of make them want to smother you with the pages from their Bibles.

But as Arthur pressed heated kisses to your neck, sloppily licking and nipping at the skin, even in your drunken state you knew that in the morning you both would have glares and harsh words spat towards you.

So you both had decided to enjoy this time while you still could.

The door had been thrown open without a care in the world as Arthur yanked you inside. Barely managing to kick the door closed behind him, he grasped at the sides of your head and drew you in for a sloppy kiss, a trail of saliva between your lips as you backed up just enough until the backs of your knees hit the lumpy, old mattress and covers. You snatched at the collar of Arthur’s lop-sided jacket, yanking the man down with you until your chests smacked together. He groaned, his hands on either side of your head, barely keeping him above you.

But even as he gazed at you with half-lidded eyes, the man seemed to undress you with those forest green eyes.

The man groaned, feeling his constraining pants tighten up, tenting, forcing to hide his growing erection you could feel starting to poke at your person.

Standing up to only drunkenly claw at his own clothing, Arthur grunted and slurred curses under his breath, dropping his belt and pants to the floor, kicking them off with his muddy boots in tow. He eyed you like he were some predator as he snatched at the buttons of his shirt, allowing the shirt and his jacket to roll off by their own heavy weight, leaving the man naked before you.

And God, if you didn’t love it when he was naked.

Arthur swayed where he stood, eyes fluttering before opening, suddenly more aware of what was happening as he now aided you in pulling off your clothing. He pulled at the waistband of your pants, dragging them down with your underwear, pushing up your shirt to kiss at the bare skin of your stomach, down to your navel, right on your pelvis before he stopped to fully pull off your pants.

Tossing them carelessly behind him, he cared no longer to take off your shirt as he lunged at you like he were some wild animal.

He had caught you as you tried to sit up on your elbows, forcing you to turn around as he pinned you to the bed. Your face smushed into the old covers that smelled of weird powders, your hands curling around the stiff quilty fabric as Arthur had slowly sank into you. You both found yourselves crying out, backs curling, hips shaking. Arthur snatched at your hips, blunt fingertips digging into your naked sides as he dragged you in closer, slowly filling you up more, driving himself as deep as he could go before he found himself choking at how tight you were around his thick cock.

Pistoning his hips, Arthur’s head lulled to the side, the man groaning as if he were in bed with an illness, losing himself to his drunken pleasure as he found himself now ramping up in speed. He forced you down against the bed, keeping you pinned there with no escape.

You groaned into the sheets, drooling and sobbing as Arthur had now started to pound relentlessly into you. The bed creaked and squeaked and groaned under your weights, at how fast he was thrusting in and out of you. The floorboards were creaking underneath you both, the bed knocking against the walls and shaking the lights.

Even in your drunken pleasures, you still heard their shouts for quiet, but Arthur merely grumbled under his breath.

“I ain’t stoppin’,” he muttered.

He gasped, suddenly finding himself coiling. Fire burned in his belly as he found himself twitching inside of you.

“Arthur!” you cried.

You had yanked at the quilt, shoulders shaking as you gasped to breathe. You could feel your own climax ramping up. Arthur had slowed his thrusts, drawing out lewd moans from both of you, crying out like you were animals in heat.

You found yourself suddenly rocking with pleasure as your body shut down, crying out as you came apart under Arthur.

The man snatched at your limp hips, slamming against you once, twice, three more times before a comforting heat filled your insides, leaking out to coat your naked asscheeks and spill onto the bedsheets between you both.

You gasped, looking back to Arthur, slurring on about how much you loved him only for him to look down at you. That fire inside of him continued to burn on like coal in an engine. He was a well-oiled machine, and from how he rolled his shoulders back and snatched at your aching waist once more, you knew he was already prepared for a second round if the sudden prodding at your ass was any sign.

Something told you that you wouldn’t be spending any more time in hotels for a little bit.

[cliophilyra]

Intimacy Prompt 23:

Wearing Someone’s Clothes - Saltommy

For @thingbe Thank you for this prompt!! It doesn’t have a title yet but if I put it on AO3 I’ll have to think of one 😊

Saltommy - rated T (Not beta read so apologies for any typos)

>Sal: Fuck me this rain is biblical

>Tommy: Yeah it’s a disaster out there - where are you?

>On way home, gonna change then should be at yours by time you’re back. That’s the plan anyway - if I don’t drown.

>Don’t text and drive deluca

>Har har - does it count as driving if you haven’t moved in 30 mins?

>🙁

—————

>No one in this fucking town can drive

>Except you of course

>Naturally 😉

—————

> How are we still this bad at driving in the rain? It happens every fucking year now and it’s still a shock?

>Calm down old man you’ll give yourself an aneurysm

>Fuck you Kinard

>Maybe later

>I’m gonna hold you to that

>😘

——————

>Fuuuuuuuccccckkkkk

>Can I help you?

>The fucking truck just died

>???

>idk it just crapped out on the side of the road 🤷‍♂️ I can’t see anything obvious but it’s still pouring down sideways so it’s not easy to see.

>Can you get a tow? Where are you?

>Oh fuck it. I’m like 10 mins from yours. If I go straight there I can grab the truck tomorrow if the fucking rain calms down. I do NOT know what the wait is gonna be today.

>Tommy?

>K, there’s a key in the fake rock thing on the drive

>Yeah yeah I know. Game starts in 90. Also you gotta get a better hiding place for the key.

>🙄

—————

>Fuck this. I am never going to be dry again

>10 mins seems a lot longer in a fucking monsoon

>The next car that splashes me I swear to god I’m going to fucking murder someone

>Made it!

>Hooray. And you were so stoic about it too. Should be done in 30 🤞

>🍆💦

>😏

——————

>Ah shit there goes the bell, I’m going to be late. Sorry babe

>Oh this is a fucking nightmare

>En route to the 500th RTA of the day

>Fuck the rain. You were right I take it all back

>Finally!

———————

When Tommy finally gets home it’s two hours later than he expected. The rain had brought with it an seemingly endless stream of RTAs as Angelinos struggled to get to grips, sometimes literally, with the unfamiliar road conditions and flooding. He drops his bag inside the door with a heavy sigh and kicks off his wet boots.

He can’t deny Sal asking to come here when he was out kind of took him by surprise. They’ve been friends for years and...whatever they are now...for long enough, but this is the first time Sal has been here without him. It caught him off guard somehow, how he was so casual about it. Not that he would have said no. Just…

He can hear the TV from the other room and he walks in expecting to see Sal with his feet up, drinking his beer and eating chips with a cocky grin. Maybe there’d be a suggestive look and a hand on his belt, dragging him in.

What he’s not expecting to see is Sal asleep on his couch, stretched out on his front with his face cushioned against his arms, wearing Tommy’s clothes.

Tommy is aware on one level that he did tell Sal to grab dry clothes but he was in no way prepared for the warmth that blooms in his chest when he looks down at him. Of course there’s the way his sweat pants stretch across Sal’s ass, a little tighter on his broader waist, and the way his shoulders fill the old LAFD t-shirt, sleeves stretched tight around his biceps, hem riding up over his stomach to reveal a strip of tan skin that makes Tommy’s mouth water. But there’s also the damp towel draped over the arm of the couch, the half-empty beer bottle and bag of chips next to his spare key on the coffee table, the warm sandalwood smell of Tommy’s soap clinging to his skin and the way his face looks so soft, his breathing deep and even, muscles lax in sleep. How he looks like he belongs here. Like he’s at home.

Tommy reaches out a tentative hand and pushes his fingers through Sal’s short hair, smoothing the damp strands back softly. Sal makes a deep sound in his throat and pushes back against Tommy’s hand, stiring slowly.

“Hey Kinard,” Tommy grins softly. Sal opens his eyes groggily, blinking up at him.

“Huh?”

“Nice t-shirt.”

“Oh,” Sal laughs, twisting a little as if he could see Tommy’s name emblazened across his own shoulders. “Yeah.” He looks up again, brow furrowing slightly as Tommy scratches gently at his scalp making him groan.

“Sorry I’m late. Shift from hell,” Tommy says softly.

“S’ok baby,” Sal sits up and fixes him with a look, eyes darkening. There’s that smirk and that big hand reaching out for his belt, drawing him in.

Tommy goes willingly, as always, but this time, instead of unzipping his fly and taking him in his mouth, or pushing him down to his knees, Sal pulls him in by his waist until Tommy stumbles against the couch and drops into his lap, knees either side of his thighs, then curls his fingers around Tommy’s jaw and presses their lips together in a kiss that is unlike anything they have shared before. It’s soft and slow, insistent and deep and it makes Tommy’s skin tingle all over. He feels like he could shoot sparks out of his fingertips as he slides his hands over Sal’s shoulders and up his neck, warmth flooding through him as Sal cradles his head as if he is something precious, smoothing his thumbs across his cheekbones as he kisses him. Tommy kisses back, hoping he’s somehow communicating everything he felt when he saw Sal asleep on his couch. How much it felt like home, like something he wants to see every day.

Sal pulls back eventually, Tommy makes a noise that could be described as a whine, although he certainly wouldn’t call it that.

“Welcome home baby.”

“Where did that come from?” Tommy says, trying to sound less breathless than he feels.

Sal shrugs. “Felt like the thing to do. I kinda liked it...waiting for you to come home.”

“I kinda like it too,” Tommy smiles, kissing him again. “I like coming home to you.”

Sal bites his lip, sucking it between his teeth, making Tommy hiss and grind down against the hard-on he can feel pressing against his own cock.

“Also my clothes looks really fucking good on you,” Tommy murmurs against his lips.

Sal smirks. “Mmm I dunno, think they’d look better on the floor.”

*****

Afterwards, when they’re collapsed in a heap on the floor next to the couch Tommy reaches up and grabs the spare key from the coffee table and dangles it from his finger.

“I think I’ve thought of a better place to hide this,” he grins.

“Yeah?”

“How about you look after it?”

EDIT: It has a title now! Keys To Fit Our Locks on AO3

[stopthatnel]

towing cars

nsfw under the cut, reblogs are so appreciated lovely’s 🥺

tw: powerplay, roles of authority, oral sex (m! receiving), anal play (and mentions of it), use of sir, use of pet names, degradation/praise, lmk if i missed any.)

deputy! reiner who knows your car and plates a lot more than he’d like to. several noise complaints could be traced back to your sleek red mercedes and for the first few of them, you were off the hook with a warning. the deputy never understood how many ‘warnings’ a single person could manage without actually receiving a ticket until he was dragging himself out of his house to angrily glare at your car circling his cul de saq.

off duty and all, he’s stomping his feet across his yard while muttering about what kind of psychopath was blaring their music this loudly at two in the morning. he’s harshly tapping at the drivers side window with his knuckles, noticing the barely legal tint applied to the glass. when your window rolled down, reiner almost didn’t see the look of irritation that spread on your features. he was taken aback by your doe eyes, glossy lips and rose stained cheeks.

you hadn’t bothered to turn down your stereo as you glared daggers into his head, appalled by the audacity of the complete stranger who decided to dirty your crystal clear windows. in your eyes, he looked like he just rolled out of bed (he did, thanks to you), and needed someone to argue with.

“ma’am, do you know what time it is?” he asks you, holding onto the roof of your car and leaning into the open window. your ditzy eyes looked like they rolled into the back of your head, popping your gum loudly.

“m’sorry, can’t hear ya! try again during business hours hun.” you’re sarcastically saying, already reaching to roll your window back up. but reiner was absolutely too tired for this shit, reaching one of his arms into your car and pulling your keys from its slot and stepping back. “excuse you? give me my fuckin’ keys you psycho!” you gasp, taking your foot off the break.

“ma’am are you under any influence tonight?” reiner asks, crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes at you. he watches as you sputter, grabbing your phone off the console and stepping out of your vehicle. your outfit left just enough up for imagination, a pink denim belted mini skirt and a too thin tube top barely keeping your breasts confined.

“are you acting’ like a cop right now? i’ll have you know an actual cop lives on this block, loser. give me my keys back ‘fore i call him!” you threaten cluelessly. the deputy is chuckling, daring you to go ahead and call the cop that you ‘knew’. it was only a few awkward seconds before you realized the house the man came from had a deputy car parked front and center in the drive way.

“i’m sure your cop friend is just busy right now, ain’t that right darling?” your gaze nervously reaches his smug face, suddenly overly aware of the new dynamic that just took place. you quickly unlock your phone and text your friend (who sucked at telling you her neighbor cop was literally the deputy) to stay inside the house until you said anything else.

“m’not drunk or anything, swear.” you mutter, propping your cell between your skin and already stretched out top. “then i’m sure you wouldn’t mind doing a quick sobriety test, right?”

reiner almost laughed in your face when you huff, crossing your arms over your chest and turning your nose up. “n’ how’re you gonna do that? you’re in your pajamas.”

“i can hold onto your keys and go change into my uniform if that’ll make you more comfortable. in fact, i can even pull out the deputy car and turn on the sirens if you’d like anymore of a scene than the one you’re already causing, doll.”

your ears are turning red at the way he talked to you, so smugly like he trumped you. truthfully, he did. you just hoped you could get your act together and work your magic on the deputy the same way you’ve worked your charm on the other officers that’ve tried to issue you tickets. and in all honesty, you weren’t drunk.

“i- these heels really hurt my feet!” you pout, pointing to the black stilettos that adorned your feet. “and it’s really hard to walk in ‘em. can i take em off at least?” reiner sucks his teeth, swinging your keychain around his fingers as he shamelessly looks you up and down.

“you had’em on while driving, shouldn’t be too hard to walk in. c’mon, straight line, one foot in front of the other.” he steps back farther into the street, crossing his arms and raising his brow expectantly. he watches the way you huff again, keeping your hands to your sides and eyes focused on the shimmering pavement underneath you. walking towards him, reiner would’ve almost made his point had your ankle not rolled to side, leaving you stumbling for balance. he sighs.

“take ‘em off then.” he could almost see something spark in your eyes, staggering back to your starting point. he’d half expected you to bend over and unclasp the ridiculously tiny ankle straps that kept those heels on your feet, and you do that.

except you turn around and keep your legs shoulder width apart when you do so. reiners jaw almost dropped, your bare cunt and pink plug on display for him to see. you took your time undoing the clasps, doing each one individually, allowing yourself to feel the cool air between your thighs. you could feel his stare, and having said nothing you decided to test the waters a bit more, swinging your hips gently as you moved over to the next clasp.

truth be told, this excited you. the once smart mouthed cop had nothing say at the moment and when you came back up, you twirled around and carelessly plucked your phone from out of your top and placing it on your car hood. you smile giddily as you watch the way his eyes trail over the fabric that inched it’s way down the swell of your breasts, areolas peaking out from the very top now of where they rested.

you stared back at him, noticing just as much as him on his counterpart, a tent in his sweatpants slowly becoming visible. “m’kay, ima try this again. if i fail it this time, you can do whatever ya want. but i’m promisin’ you—”

“get to walking.” he’s gritting, his eyes momentarily unable to meet yours. now, now, he understands why little old you was getting away with just warnings. he see’s your red mercedes almost everywhere after that incident, his face unwillingly turning pink each time, almost afraid to keep looking. but he does, and time after time you’re strutting out of that car with the stilettos that were too hard to walk in as you make your rounds to his neighbors house.

deputy!reiner is unsure if you’re fucking his neighbor, but he wouldn’t find it hard to believe if you were. stepping out of his house alone and pulling your miniskirt (how many of those could one person even own?) down over your ass, popping your gum loudly as you get into your car and never bothering to turn down the previous volume you had on your stereo.

however, there’s only so many times he could handle being awoken from his sleep to your ditzy music, your ditzy cackle, your stupid plump lips blowing bubbles with the gum you seemed to constantly have in your mouth. and tonight, reiner didn’t bother going to sleep. he waited to hear your obnoxiously loud engine going way too fast in the cul de saq, sitting at his window and watching you confidently strut over to porco’s house and go inside.

while you’re in there doing god knows what, he has a boot cradled in his arms and the key tight between his teeth. just as quick as he’d show up, he’d be gone, making himself comfortable in his bed until he hears banging at his front door.

his deal was simple, give him one good reason not to issue you four tickets and have your car towed and he’ll give you the key to the boot and let you go on your merry way. but you stood at his door, arms crossed over your chest and a pout forming on your face as you stammered over your words, intimidated by the confident calm he held over you.

“buh, buh, buh. cats got yer’ tongue tonight, lil lady? but what? why shouldn’t i fine you for that tint, for your reckless driving, for your speeding, and noise disturbance?” he’s relishing in this, he’s feeling a comeback from the way you had him acting out of character that night. “i, fuck man, i don’t even know your name.”

“that’s not necessary doll, deputy is fine with me.”

when tears began welling at your eyes, the deputy would’ve almost felt bad had he not known you’d do anything to get out of a tough situation. but with that knowledge in mind, he invited you in, pulling out a seat from his (way too big for one person) dining table and sat directly across from you as if he was about to interrogate you.

“are you seriously going to boot my car? i literally need it, and i- i don’t have the funds to get it out of the yard. this is so fucked up, i didn’t even have my music that loud.”

“i heard it from my bedroom, darling.” reiner lies, a phony sympathetic smile plastered on his face. “look, out of four tickets, im asking for one reason.” he attempts to reason with you. one tear from the welling at your water line slipped past your lashes, groaning and throwing your head into your palms.

“deputy please,” you beg. “i won’t even come ‘round here no more, you’ll never hear from me again. promise!” reiner audibly tsks at your words in disapproval. “not a reason darling. i’ll be calling the tow company and you can head on with the car n’ em.”

the lot of emotions that swirled through your mind almost clouded your eyes from seeing the egging, smug smirk that was plastered onto the deputy’s face. almost, however, is a very important word. you hurriedly wiped your cheeks clean from the saline that stained them, sniffling your nose and picking up your phone. reiner sat and watched you quietly, tapping away at the glass, eager to see your next move. were you going to call someone, perhaps porco next door? after all, you had just came from his house, maybe he’d provide you with some help.

but instead you placed your phone face down on the table and huffed, turning your nose up. “so?” the blonde asks, curious as to what was behind those pretty eyes. reiner wasn’t really going to boot your car and give you four tickets, he wasn’t even on the clock. he just wanted to shake you up a little bit, just enough to allow him a good nights rest. but the way you leaned into his dining table with those big wide eyes of yours and fixed your lips to say,

“you’re right, i was being disrespectful. is there anything i can do to make this up to you? i’ll be a good girl, sir.”

had him thinking back to your pretty pussy bent over on display. god the nights of him closing his eyes and picturing himself just acting on the moment, pulling his sweats down fucking your pussy dumb right on the hood of your car, so dumb that you don’t question him, his authority. promising to be a good girl, just for him.

that smug grin of his seemed to be widening more and more as he stared at you, his biggest giveaway being the way his eyes relaxed, peering at you through his thick lashes. he didn’t jump, or give any tell of the way shimmied closer to the edge of your seat; but your ankles are finding themselves crossed with his, the sound of those too high stilettos clicking underneath the two of you. he clasps his hands in front of him, leaning into your bold movements with a simple cock of the brow. he wanted you to do it.

in fact, he dared you.

“how are you going to make it up? what do you have that could make me give this a blind eye?” he questions you. your ankle inched up his calve the minute his lips closed, watching him carefully as you did. the way he sat there nonchalantly would have made you believe that he could pass a lie detector while lying through his teeth, but that was all for null. seeing as the tip of your heel found what it was looking for, you grinned at the feeling of hardness underneath it.

but that wasn’t enough for you or him, and you don’t hesitate to draw your legs back into your body and slyly unclasp the buckle holding the shoe to your feet. he’s clearing his throat as a cover up to stifle the groan he lets out when he feels you press up onto his crotch, wrapping his calloused hands around your ankle and roughly yanking you forward.

“if you’re doing what i think you’re doing sugar, i need to hear you say it.” he mutters thickly. he’s looking at you through his lashes, waiting for your pouty lips to tell him exactly what you were trying to do, shamelessly at that. but you had to save yourself some dignity, and in return you refused to do that. “what do you think i’m doing, sir?” your heartbeat thumped loudly behind your chest, noticing the way his grip tightened around your skin when you repeated the use of ‘sir’.

reiner oh so definitely wanted to hear you say it, but he couldn’t help it, feeling the ball your foot press back and forth against his awfully hard dick was nothing more than magic to make him speak. “i think you want me to bend you over this table and fuck you like a whore, sweetheart.” reiner never failed to notice the little twinkle in your eye as the pet name drawled from his lips. something about his southern accent saying the nastiest things in the sweetest way.

“do you wanna?” you smack at the gum between your teeth, obnoxiously popping bubbles. reiner’s smirk dropped, tilting his head at your question. he was getting too far in, desperately drawn to your words but he needed to be the one in control here. after all, he did have the key to the boot that kept you here in the first place.

“do you deserve it?”

“it’s not about whether or not i deserve it, it’s about whether or not you’re into it. sir.”

reiner sweeps your ankle off his lap and pushes his chair back, standing up and walking over to your side. he places a palm down onto the table in front of you, the other resting gently on your bare shoulder. he leans into your ear and whispers, “and if i am into it, do you still think you’d deserve to have that slutty cunt of yours split on my cock? you’ve been nothing but a pain in my ass, y’know.”

you fluttered your eyes closed at his words, the degrading tone making you cross your legs together. even without reopening them, you can feel his eyes like daggers in your face, expecting a response out of you. you take a shaky breath, opening your lids slowly and glancing at his hand before gently taking his wrist between your comparatively small fingers. you mumble something, something reiner genuinely didn’t hear. he leaned closer into you.

“what’s that?”

“take this as an ‘i’m sorry’.” this time, reiner heard you loud and clear. but just to feel it, he lazily takes his hand off your shoulder and hooks his finger underneath you chin, asking you to repeat that last part. he looks into your eyes, amber but dark as ever.

“m’sorry.”

“show me how sorry you are.” his hand reaches over to the nape of your neck, pulling your cheek to meet the white fabric of his tank top, feeling the warmth of his skin underneath. he look down at you as you place your hands on his hips, fingers blindly dancing at the elastic of his sweats. i could’ve just been a coincidence that he was wearing the exact same outfit as the night you’d flashed him, but it wasn’t. this is how that night should’ve played out, he’s thinking. he should’ve had you choking around his shaft with tears in your eyes just as you are now.

gasping for air as he throws his head back, thrusting into your mouth as he holds your hair up to see you pretty face trying desperately to take a solid gasp of air. he’s grunting at the way your tongue still manages to flatten against the underside of his dick, curling around it to cover your bottom teeth. the drool that coated the elastic of his waistband (which you hadn’t even bothered to tug down fully) didn’t affect him in anyway, barely reaching your chin at every gag you made.

his dick was big, thick and veiny. it was heavy in your mouth, pulsating against your tongue. he was surprisingly neatly trimmed, only a tuft of a blonde landing strip at the base of his happy trail. the mushroom tip was a deep purple color from your throat closing around him so tightly. he tapped it against your hanging tongue, his shaky breaths rocking his upper body as he stares at the submission he’s been seeking.

it wasn’t enough.

he needed more. he needed those tears to count for something, not just his cock bullying your uvula. it should bully your cunt too, but in time. you’re dragging the back of your palm across your mouth in an attempt to clean up the slobbery mess you’ve created, jaw sore from how wide he’d kept it open. “up, c’mon sweetheart. on ya’ feet.”

he watched in satisfaction as you stood up without hesitation, without a word, without a snarky attitude. he wondered where the gum in your mouth had went, and he takes your cheeks into one hand, squishing them to open your mouth. he slips his finger past your red lips and you open up wider, closing your eyes as you feel him press onto your tongue and swipe along under it. you seemed to know what he was looking for, “i swallowed it.” you’re speaking around his digit. he raised his brows up but made no comment, stepping back and using the spit he’d collected to help him tug at his length.

“you sure know how to give a show don’t ya’?” he asks you, watching as he pulls his sweats down further over his thighs. you tilt your head wordlessly, becoming a bit shy as his eyes danced over your figure. you go to tug the leather mini skirt just a bit over your ass, only to be met with that familiar tsking the deputy seemed very fond of aiming at you. you gaze up at him, halting in your actions as he shamelessly stroked his cock.

“tell me, darling. you got that pink plug stuffed in yer’ lil asshole today?” his words sounded slurred, drunk even. you shake your head no, had you known he was seeking it you might’ve just humored him. he chuckled, mumbling something about having something else he could shove in there.

“bend over the table for me.” he tells you, following right behind you. when your chest hits the table you look back at him, admiring the gold between your legs. you wondered what went through his mind, but the quick flicks of his hand wrapped around his leaking tip told you more than you needed to know. his eyes glance over to your peering eyes, “face forward, slut. did i say you could look?” he snaps.

your eyes widen momentarily as you snap your neck forward, then closing them in… embarrassment? your cheeks are heating up, taking in slow breaths as you anticipate his next move. his rough hands are somewhat gentle as he yanks your barely there skirt fully over your ass, fingers kneading the soft flesh. “i wonder what was going on in that empty little head of yours that night,” he mumbles to himself, “were you looking to get fucked?” he elicits a soft gasp from you when he pulls your thighs farther apart, tapping the taut skin of your asshole with his thumb.

“or did you already get fucked? was that plug just to keep your little boyfriend’s cum stuffed in you?” you hum as his fingers drag down to your slit, spreading your lips apart with his middle finger between them. “i- ah, he’s not my boyfriend!” reiner chuckles at your exclamation, but doesn’t dwell on it too much as he pursues his lips and spits onto his finger, mixing it in with your slick.

“i bet he won’t be after this for sure, ain’t that right sugar? you’re gonna be a good girl and listen t’me, huh?” reiner is still waiting for syour answer as you whine from the width of his fingers, slowly inching into your cunt. “yes, i- i’m sorry.” reiner almost laughed at you, all of that snotty brat behavior went where exactly? two knuckles deep into you and it’s gone, you’re a quiet whimpering slut.

so, he laughs.

“what’re… oh fuck- what are you laughing about?” you ask, squeezing your eyes tightly as he curls his fingers into you. the deputy doesn’t respond to you, simply fucking into your pussy with his digits, trying to stretch you out. if it’s one thing about the deputy, he was in control, and being in control called for an awareness that the normal person wouldn’t typically project.

and reiner knew his cock would stretch your little hole out until it was molded to the shape of him, and a little help wouldn’t be an issue for him to give. your pussy spasmed around his fingers, but reiner was a bit confused. he expected you to be loud, matching your boisterous actions. however your eyes remained shut tight, small gasps and whines escaping through your nose. your hands held onto the corner of the table tightly, and for a moment reiner almost doubted whether or not you felt good.

but when he thrusted into you, the gasp you’d let out was nothing short of an ego boost to the deputy. the squeals tumbling from your lips, the incoherent mumbles of words that could’ve been apologies or gratitude played no roll in the way reiner’s hips met yours, and with such animalistic growls coming from him you almost didn’t believe it.

his hands meet the skin flush on his thighs, pulling your own thighs wider apart as he digs into your stomach. he felt so deep you’d swear if you put your hand over your belly you’d feel him. and speaking of your hands, they gripped the sleek wood beneath you tightly, promising yourself not to run from his assault on your cunt.

“fuck, i was laughing ‘cus this is how i was supposed to have this pretty pussy. if you wanted,” he pushes down on your back with one hand, digging in deep and leans forward. he was bottomed out, nipping at the stretchy fabric of your tube top with his teeth. he’s pulling it down hastily, his skin feels hot against your back. “you could’ve just asked to be fucked right. i wouldn’t say no, especially not to a brat like you.”

while his voice was strained, he still somehow managed to speak to you in a belittling manner. your nails dig into the surface beneath you, crying out as he draws his hips back and then slamming it back flush.

“oh my fucking god!”

“there ain’t nothing godly about this, darlin’. how about reiner, how about you call for me.”

you couldn’t even process the fact that he finally told you his name, but you’re calling it, over and over like a prayer. his hands won’t stop moving, pressing down on your shoulders, holding the skin of your ass apart and spitting his drool onto your asshole.

he was watching the way it would drip down to your split open cunt, disappearing in the mess you’ve already made on his dick. so fuckin’ pretty, your head was spinning from the contrasting nothings and something he was whispering to you. he was calling you a slut, but it’s okay because you’re his pretty slut, and he was going to fuck your attitude into place.

he was most definitely keeping his word, dropping his leg from the chair and lifting you up and flipping you over. you finally get a good look at him, sweat beaded at his brow, his cheeks were pink, and best of all, the shit eating smirk was back and full blown. he doesn’t let you think too long, dragging you to the edge and lining himself back up to your hole. wasting no time, he dips back in slowly, watching the way your face stared down at where the two of you connected, panting and relishing in the way he stretched you out.

about halfway, he’s giving you slow languid thrusts, taking the tempo to catch his breath. “fuck me back baby,” he says, cupping the rounds of your ass under him. you prop yourself up onto your elbows, rolling your hips into his thrusts, stifling a moan when the mushroom tip of his cockhead nudges at your gspot.

“you take this dick so good… fuckin’ made fr’ it.”

[silverstonesainz-archive]

ok but i j feel like this fits so well???

❛ you always see the good in people. even me. ❜ + max

pls it really does fit SO well. huhu

good heart (mv1) ─── just a little reassurance

max sighs softly, but he smiles anyway. he thanks the interviewer, nodding at whatever else they had to say before turning on his heel to return to his driver room. his pr officer is in tow, but she says nothing, and for that he’s grateful.

it was a rough day on the track. another win under his belt, but alas another sunday of being attacked and berated for the way he drove. and he’s learned to compartmentalize it, to ignore snide comments about his aggression on and off the track. he’s been taught well, trained to smile even if he wanted to scream, and shake hands even if he wanted to throw a punch.

but today was different. he couldn’t place why, but it was. he thought he drove great, albeit a fairly boring one considering he was leading for the majority of it. but some how he was at fault for charles’s result was beyond him. 

he drove dangerously! he ran too wide, basically pushed charles off and fucked his race! max has no regard for anyone else but himself! he doesn’t deserve to be a champion!

but none of it was true… right?

he hangs his head low, mumbling thanks to greetings and congratulations. he just wanted to disappear, hideaway, and be with you.

when he slides the door of his driver’s room open, you’re sitting on his massage table on your phone. you take a moment to wrap up what you’re doing before you look up at him. the smile on your face drops the moment you see his sullen expression. 

“hey there stud, what’s wrong?”

he doesn’t say anything, just wraps you up in his arms, burying his face into your neck. you freeze for a moment, caught off guard at the sudden affection, but you melt into him just as fast. your hands come up to rest on his shoulder blades, rubbing softly. you coo, asking him what’s wrong, but he grunts in response. 

“tired of being the villain.” he mumbles against the skin of you neck. his breath is hot, hold is tight. “tired of being the bad guy.”

you cup his cheeks, pulling his face from you so that you can look at him. his eyes are tired and dull with sadness. his lips curve downward ever so slightly in a frown, bottom lip jutted outwards. “where is this coming from?” 

he shrugs, turning his head to release himself from your hold. he removes his arms from around you, running his fingers through his damp hair. his actions are rough, filled with frustration. you hang back, sitting back on the massage bed as you watch him change and get ready to leave the track. he moves quickly, slipping off his race attire and swapping it for his normal redbull polo and blue jeans. 

“hey,” you call out, “c’mere.”

max looks like a little kid. his shoulders are slumped, feet dragging along the floor as he shuffles over to you. you part your legs, giving him room to stand between them. his jeans touch the inside of your thighs, his fingers coming up to push the stray hairs over your shoulder. his frustrated movements moments earlier contrast the gentle way he handles you. you take his hand into yours, pressing a kiss to the back of it. 

“i just feel like im under a microscope, now more than ever. and i feel like no matter what i do, i’ll always be a bad guy.”

“you’re not a bad guy max. don’t let snide comments get to you and make you villainize yourself.” you squeeze his hand, but he sighs and shakes his head. 

“c’mon, let’s just go.”

“wanna know what i think?” you tug him back to you, and he plants himself between your legs again. “i think that you’re a good guy, the best guy actually. you’re talented, fucking phenomenal at more than just driving. you’ve been through so much, and yet you’ve managed to take all that and channel it into something positive. people are cruel, but it doesn’t mean they’re right okay?”

“you’re just saying that.”

“no, i could tell you you’re a piece of shit if you were being a piece of shit. but you’re not.” his sulky demeanor cracks, a smile curling onto his pink lips. you stand up, left hand resting on his cheek. “you are a good person, with a good heart max. okay?”

he smiles, “you’re my favorite person, because you always see the good in people. even me.” he leans down to press a soft kiss against your lips. “i will never understand how i got so lucky with a girl like you, loving a guy like me.”

you smile, kissing him again, “you were just being you, and loving you is easy.”

[sanguineterrain]

no more lonely nights - s.h.

Summary: Steve comes home from Starcourt, bruised and battered. And you're there. You always are.

Pairing: best friend!Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings/tags: s3 beaten up Steve, my poor little meow meow. Vomit, hurt Steve, friends to lovers, sharing a bed. Reader's a swell gal, and, to no one's surprise, Steve is a sweetheart.

Notes: heads up that Steve IS thinking clearly; the drugs have worn off by the end. This takes place in s3, reader and steve are 18+, etc.

****

The flash of headlights rouses you from sleep. Checking your watch tells you that it's a little past midnight. You push yourself onto your knees, squinting at the red taillights. Beneath the streetlamp, you can just make out the maroon BMW humming in the Harringtons’ driveway. A moment later, the driver's door flies open and a figure hunches over the side. Steve.

He grasps the inside handle and stays like that for less than a second. Then he throws up. 

You're out of bed in an instant. 

Steve dry heaves a couple times, his coughs and gasps echoing on the asphalt. You slip on your thin, silk robe—a present from Steve—and haphazardly tie the belt. Your own parents are gone for the weekend to visit a friend, so slipping on your shoes and running across the street in your pajamas draws no questions. 

The block is dead. The silence is thick in the dark; the only sound is Steve's car. You run across the road and carefully step around the sick, sliding a gentle hand over Steve’s bicep. He flinches so hard he hits his head on the top of the door.

“Whoa, hey! Hey, Steve, it’s me, it’s Y/N.” 

“Y/N?” he croaks, blindly searching for your hand.

You hold his hand and rest your other on his shoulder in case he loses balance. Steve squeezes weakly.

“Hey,” you say, softer. “Did you drive home drunk?” 

“No,” he manages, then sits up. 

You gasp.

Steve's face is covered in blood and badly swollen, his right eye sporting the largest shiner you’ve ever seen on him. Yellow and purple bruises bloom along his face and neck. His Scoops uniform has spots of blood and is torn in about a hundred places. You feel as sick as he does.

“Steve, oh my—” Your fingers ghost over his bruises. “What happened?”

“Russians. At Starcourt. They opened a portal or something. Billy, he's…" 

Steve scrunches his brow hard. You hush him, not wanting him to delve into what is no doubt a frightening memory. Then you lean in and turn off the car. 

“Okay, alright. We’ll talk about it later. Can you walk?” 

“Um… yeah, yeah," he says, not sounding too certain. "Just gimme a sec. Feel kinda dizzy.”

“You shouldn’t have driven yourself home, Steve," you say, heart in your throat. "Couldn’t someone else have given you a ride? Mrs. Byers? Hopper?"

“Didn’t wanna bother anyone. ‘M fine.”

You crouch as best you can so you're level with him. He looks at you with droopy eyes, mouth parted. Shamefully, you wonder what it would be like to kiss him right now, despite the cut on his bottom lip. With careful fingers, you touch his less injured side, grazing over a smaller cut. He winces. 

“Sorry,” you whisper.

He smiles, pained and sweet. 

“‘S okay. Did I wake you? You didn’t have to come down.”

Your brows furrow.

“You’re hurt, Steve. Of course I came down.”

He shakes his head, breathing raspy.

“You didn’t have to.”

“But I wanted to.”

He looks at you, sleepy and swollen. You tuck a bit of hair behind his ear before you can think about it. 

“Ready to go inside?” you ask.

“Mm, think so."

You roll up the sleeves of your robe and sling your arm under Steve’s armpit. He follows you up, not leaning as much weight on you as you want. You lock the car and hobble over to the front steps, Steve in tow. He braces himself against the brick while you open the door. Then you heft him inside. Steve's head lolls onto your shoulder. 

"Stay awake, Stevie," you urge, jostling his arm. "Just for a little longer, promise."

"'M good," he mumbles. "Jus’ need a shower. Spent a good chunk of the night on the bathroom floor." 

He hisses when you both turn the corner. You stop, turning so you can see his face. Your hand hovers unsurely over his ribs. 

"What hurts?"

"No, 's just a little bruised. Finally won a fight though." Steve's grin makes butterflies flit in your belly, despite him looking like he's been shoved into a meat grinder. "Proud of me?"

"No, Steve. I'm glad you're home safe but I don't want you in any fights. You need to take care of yourself," you say, slowly helping him into the bathroom. "I know you wanna look out for the kids but you're killing yourself doing it."

"Better I get hurt than them," he declares. "Better me than Robin or Dustin or anybody."

You help him sit on the edge of the tub and take the alcohol and gauze from the medicine cabinet. Steve looks up at you with wet, trusting eyes. 

"This is gonna sting," you warn. 

"Yeah," Steve nods, bracing himself with one hand on the lip of the tub. 

You cup his face and gently swab the cuts. He's quiet as you do so, gazing at you with those big brown eyes. 

"What were you doing up?" he asks when you finish. 

"Just couldn't sleep with the house so empty."

You don't mention the fact that you'd been waiting for Steve's car to pull in. That you've done so everyday this summer. No one, including Steve, will tell you details about the strange happenings in Hawkins. Still, it's all you can do to not follow him into whatever maw of danger he finds himself in. And it's only because of Steve that you stay put. 

I can't lose you, he'd pleaded one late night when you'd asked. I care about you too much to get you mixed up in this shit. Don't come, please.

So you hadn't. You regret listening. 

"You can't sleep a lot?" Steve asks. 

You hum, not wanting him to worry. "Sometimes."

"You should call me. I'm usually awake too."

This close you feel Steve's warmth. His hands are dutifully planted on the tub. Every time you touch him, his hands twitch, like he wants to move. To hold. 

"Usually?" you ask. 

"I have trouble sleeping these days," he admits. "I thought—my folks are gone all the time. If anything got me, no one would know. No one would even…"

"I would," you interrupt. "I would care. And I'd do everything to get you back."

Steve's silent as you put everything away. You help him stand once more. He's wobbly, leaning on the tiles to pull off his shirt with one hand. The glimpses of freckled skin make you swallow hard. You focus on the plaid shower curtain. 

"Are you, um, hungry?" you manage. 

Steve's biceps swell as he tugs his shirt off. You turn around when you see the smattering of dark hair on his chest, refusing all temptation.

"You don't have to cook for me, Y/N. I can manage a—"

"So that's a yes."

"You should–should sleep," he mumbles, hissing at a cut or bruise. Maybe both. "I know you worked today."

"Steve." You turn around, so exasperated you have to face him. Steve's only in his briefs. Oh God. "I, uh…"

"Pervin' on me?" he smirks, hands on his hips. 

After being friends with Steve for so long, you should be used to his easy confidence. Steve's always been open with his body. You panic anyway. 

"No!" you yelp. "No. Sorry. I'm–I'm going downstairs. You're not gonna fall in, are you?"

Steve chuckles, smirk softening into a smile. 

"I think I can manage not falling in."

"Okay. Right." You leave the bathroom, closing the door almost all the way. Fuck. "Yell if you need something. Eggs okay?" 

You wait outside the door for a response. When there's none, you lean in. 

"Steve? Are you okay? Ste—"

He opens the door, tall frame blocking most of your view. You swallow hard, not knowing where to look. It's rude to stare at a guy's bare chest, right? Doubly so when he's your best friend, who's bloody and exhausted and just fought Soviets. You really are a perv.  

"Y/N, c'mon. It's nearly…" Steve squints at the clock. "Jesus, three AM?" 

"It's summer," you reason, eyes finally landing on his face. "I don't mind. I want to." Pathetic, pathetic. 

"I just—I know we haven't spoken as much lately, which is my fault," Steve starts. "And I don't wanna drag you into this shit because you're going to college soon and you don't need this on your plate on top of everything and—"

"Steve. Hey. You're my best friend. I know you're out having fun with the lunch gang and Nancy Wheeler."

Steve makes a face. 

"It's not like that with her anymore. You know that."

You hum. "Well, who's that girl at Scoops? Robin?"

"Robin, yeah." Steve smiles. "She's cool. You'd like her."

"I bet I would," you say softly, even though it hurts, hearing Steve say another girl's name.

But so what? Nothing you haven't suffered before. Last year was absolute hell, watching Steve remain stuck on Nancy. 

The worst part is you. You're the one who can't pull away, who can't let him go. Steve was your friend long before he'd been anything of Nancy's or this Robin girl's. Still, you have no right to lay claim. You know this. And yet, you're here at three in the morning, ready to make him scrambled eggs. 

Like you said. Pathetic. 

"Y/N?" 

"Huh?" 

Steve has a strange look on his face. He can't hear your heart thumping in your chest, right?  

"Sure you're not concussed?" he asks. 

He touches your forehead. You squeak, darting backwards. 

"I'm fine! Go shower. You have a lot of hair to get through."

You hurry out before Steve can respond. Your shoulders only relax when you hear the shower turn on and water rushes through the pipes. Now you can focus on making food. You're good at that. Making food holds no danger of your heartbeat ratcheting when Steve gets too close. 

The eggs turn out just how Steve likes them: softly scrambled. You also fix toast and wash some strawberries because you know for a fact Steve hasn't been eating as well as he should. 

He comes down a few minutes after you finish, still toweling his hair dry. You set the plate down at the kitchen island. He looks better, fresher. His face is still a mess but at least there's no visible blood. He wears the Talking Heads shirt you'd gotten him last year after forcing him to listen to their new album with you. On the bottom are plain blue boxers. Nothing special. Your heart palpitates. 

"Smells good," Steve says, further exhausted after the shower. "Thanks, sweet."

You swallow at the name. "N-no problem."

He bites into a strawberry first. The juice stains his lips red. You find a spot on the ceiling that's particularly riveting. 

"You cold?" he asks through a bite of egg. He dusts his hands of the toast crumbs, getting up to adjust the thermostat. 

"No, I'm fine."

"You sure? You still have your robe on, Y/N."

"Oh. Well, I wanted to… stay modest."

Steve snorts. "Modest? Are we in the eighteen hundreds? I think I can handle your bare shoulders."

"Surprised you'd know that considering how many times you skipped history last year," you shoot back. 

"Still passed, didn't I?" Steve grins triumphantly. "Solid B, baby."

"With my help."

Steve's expression melts into a fond smile. 

"Yeah. I couldn't have done any of it without you. I'm a lucky guy."

He finishes his last square of toast and starts to get up to put his plate in the sink. You quickly beat him to it, resting a hand on his shoulder so he'll stay seated. 

"Why're you so good to me?" Steve asks when you return. 

You tilt your head, leaning on his chair. "Because you're my friend and you deserve it."

"You really think that?"

Your brows knit. "Of course I do."

He shakes his head. "We haven't even hung out this month. I just got totally wrapped up in the new job and the kids and I—"

"Steve," you say. "Where's all this coming from? I know you've been busy since your dad cut you off. I'm not mad about that."

"Well, I am," he huffs. "I wanted to hang out with you more, I swear. I just didn't want to lose you. You're my best friend and I could never lose you—I don't know what I'd do if–if—"

"Hey," you soothe. "Hey, hey. Steve, it's okay. I don't know what happened… something about Russians? Whatever, if you want to talk about it, I'm here. But right now, you're exhausted. Can you try sleeping?" 

He looks at you with wet eyes. His fingers absently play with your robe belt. 

"Promise it's okay?" he asks. 

"Oh, Steve. I missed you. But you still have me. You always will, y'know?" 

He pulls you into a hug. His face nudges the pudge of your belly. You fold and cradle his head. 

"Missed you too," he mumbles. 

Steve is like a furnace, soft with residual heat from the shower. He's always felt larger than life and tonight is no different. Even battered, Steve is Steve. Hugging him feels like an out-of-body experience.

"C'mon," you coax. "You've been up for nearly twenty four hours."

He stands. You step back, trying to smile. Steve's attempt to mirror you isn't much better. He looks at your hand, then his own. 

"I'll see you in the morning? Or, well, afternoon.”

"Oh." Steve avoids your gaze, picking at a loose thread on the tablecloth. "Yeah, guess so."

"When are your folks coming back?" 

Steve deflates further. "Dunno. They haven't returned my calls. Been gone for the whole summer."

You bite the inside of your cheek. Steve is a shiny, red apple in your Garden of Eden with his still damp hair and lovingly worn shirt. You need to go home. 

"I just… I don't want to overstep," you say. You look up to the ceiling, take a deep breath. "It's really your girlfriend that should be here." 

Steve's head snaps up.  

"What? I don't have a girlfriend."

"You don't?" 

He shakes his head. 

"Nancy was my last."

Your chest lightens. Steve takes a step forward. 

"You don't have to stay," he begins. "I just—it's so empty."

Damn it. Damn it.

"I'll… I'll stay for a few minutes," you say. "Just until you fall asleep."

He brightens. There's not much to bring Steve peace. You can do this thing for him. 

And who are you kidding? You’re not exactly pulling teeth here. 

You go to his room. You haven’t been here in months, since school let out. It’s the same, more or less. There are a few more photos; of you and Steve, of Steve and who is probably Robin. He still has the same plaid theme and the framed sports car photo you’ve teased him about for as long as you’ve known him. 

Steve’s hand lands on your back. You jolt.  

“Sorry,” he murmurs. “Temperature okay?”

“I’m alright,” you say. “Does your face hurt? I could get some ice. Or Advil?”

Steve’s eyes go wide. He swallows.

“No. No drugs.”

His eyes seem to cloud over. You take his hand.

“Steve? Hey, you okay?”

He exhales, lids fluttering.

“Yeah. Sorry. I’m—the Russians…”

“Oh, Steve.”

You wrap your arms around him. Steve falls into your embrace, like the night has finally taken him down. His chin rests on your shoulder. You rub his back. His hair is fluffy and smells like lemon shampoo. You curl your fingers into a few strands.

“I’ve got you,” you murmur. “C’mon, Stevie.”

Slowly, Steve rises. You take him by the hand and lead him to the bed. You pull back the covers on his side. Steve slides into bed. His hair fans across the pillow. 

Steve looks like an angel. You feel temptation creep again.

“You’ll stay, right?” he asks. “For a little while?”

You smile and undo your robe belt. 

“Yes, Steve. I’ll stay.”

Steve’s seen you in pajamas and even in panties before. It’s no big deal, really. 

That’s what you tell yourself when you’re down to a big t-shirt and your underwear. 

Steve is a gentleman, of course. He doesn’t stare at you or comment. You clumsily climb into bed. 

“Hey,” he says, pointing at your shirt. “We match.”

You look down at your “Remain in Light” shirt. 

“Guess we’re meant to be,” you whisper, and immediately regret it.

But Steve smiles, eyes drooping.

“Yeah,” he hums. “Guess we are.”

You scoot up against the headboard and pat his shoulder.

“G’night, Steve.”

Steve frowns. 

“Lie down. ‘S uncomfortable sitting up.”

You chew your lip. Steve looks so earnest, eyes like starlight. You swallow and shimmy down, under the covers. 

He scoots closer. Your heart pounds.

“You want the light on?” you ask. 

He hesitates, and you know he’s debating between being brave or being comfortable. You choose for him.

“I like the light on,” you say, and he relaxes.

There’s only a couple inches of space between you. Steve is soft and yours, bathed in orange light. You want to kiss him. You want a lot of things you can’t have.

“I’m really glad you’re okay, Steve.” 

He pats the pillow for your hand. You link your fingers together.

“I’m happy I know you, Y/N,” he replies.

And there, in the dim light, safe under the covers that smell so much like Steve, you want to tell him. You want to tell him so badly how much you love him. How sick you feel seeing him bruised and bloodied. How you never want to see him like that again.

“Steve,” you whisper.

“Hmm?”

“I–” 

The words crush your throat. God, he’s beautiful. You can’t lose him.

“Y/N?”

“Nothing,” you say in a rush of breath. “Never mind. Sorry. Go to sleep.”

Steve stares at you for a long moment. You gnaw the inside of your cheek. 

“I thought about you,” he finally says. “When I was down there. I thought about you.”

“Steve?” 

He closes the last few inches between you.

“I thought about what I’d say if I saw you again. What I’d do.”

“Steve,” you warn. 

Steve reaches for your cheek. Your breath stutters.

“You’re exhausted,” you remind him. “Y-you’re not thinking clearly.”

“I am,” he promises. “Been thinking clearly for a while now.”

And then Steve kisses you. It’s chaste, barely a press of lips. You’re careful of his cut. His lips are chapped and smell like mint and antiseptic. Steve shifts closer and grunts. You pull back, instinctively cradling his ribs.

“Careful,” you say. “Careful, Steve.”

He smiles.

“You’re so good to me,” he says. 

You lean in and rest your forehead on his. 

“Always.” 

He kisses your cheek again, unsure and fumbling like you’re his first. It’s sweet. God, he’s sweet. 

“Please stay,” Steve whispers.

You nod. 

“I will.”

You always do.

[ktsumu]

hello kit i come to you for your wrapped event 🤭 hehe as an iwa rep 😌 i would like to request iwaizumi hajime + 17 (or 4, whichever is better!) if that's ok 🥹 and the genre is entirely up to you!! (just no angst pls... i will cry)

oh my god this was such a hard choice that i literally might have to write the other one anyway .. cannot believe you picked iwa and 4 this is a PERFECT combo

iwaizumi + 4: sweater weather genre: fluff with a little kissin' !! reader is a cali girl and iwa knows his cars wc: 0.9k note: the car type is an easter egg if anyone knows it teehee

send me a number + a character and i'll write you a drabble!

Half of Iwaizumi's heart will never leave California, he's sure of it. Half of it will never leave this house.

It's a little blue neighbourhood house in one of the pockets of suburbia you and your friends drove him to, a friend of a friend's house. Something like that.

(Iwaizumi doesn't remember why you all show up there every day, but he doesn't really care that much.)

Every time, it'd be just around dinner when you all met there. You'd sit on the couch, talking to everyone, introducing your handsome boyfriend to anyone who showed. He doesn't remember ever eating dinner anywhere else than in this kitchen.

(He used to be afraid of being homesick. In high school, he never really pictured leaving. You make him think he was born to leave.)

"Excuse us," you say, standing up from couch arm you sat on, taking his hand. "We'll be right back."

Iwaizumi's brows raise as you take his hand, standing up with him in tow, but he doesn't question you— no, he's never questioned you— as he follows you down the hallway.

You're out the door with a grin, walking over to the driveway where all the cars are. You toss him a set of keys.

He catches them against his chest as he pauses, squinting in the last life of today's sun. "Seriously?"

You slip into the car, grabbing his sunglasses and putting them on. "Why not?"

"Uh, because's that's a '68 Benz?"

"What, you still don't have a license?"

"I do, but—"

"Do you trust me?"

He sighs a laugh. "I don't trust myself."

"That's okay," you say with a wink, patting the driver's seat. "I trust you enough for the both of us."

Iwaizumi swallows, glancing back at the house before sighing, getting into the car.

"You're gonna be the death of me,"

"I'll be the death of us, actually, so drive safe!"

(He rolls his eyes, but he starts the engine.)

Iwaizumi drives, but you give him directions— you told all of your friends you'd be right back, but he doesn't see you getting home anytime soon, not when he watches you lean over into the breeze. He can smell the ocean and your perfume, and he fights to keep his eyes on the road.

He starts to think you're keeping him driving on purpose until you tell him to turn off on the empty highway you've landed on.

"Here?"

"It's a real road, I swear."

"...Alright."

The car rolls through the gravel which turns into sand, coming to a stop when you tell him. The sun starts going down again, like it waited for the two of you to get to where you were going before starting to go again. Waves crash and you unbuckle your seatbelt.

"A beach."

"Mhm," you say with a smile. "Your favourite!"

Truth be told, he's never been a huge beach guy— sand that makes a home in your shoes, sunburns that never leave. But, you know, if you're down, so is he.

Iwaizumi furrows his brows, undoing his seatbelt just after you. "Hey, where are you going?"

You don't answer, just jog out into the sand.

"Okay, whatever, coming."

When he gets out to round the car, tucking the car keys in his pocket, he stumbles back into the hood when you grip his shirt and kiss him. He finds his footing in the sand first, and then his hands find your hips.

He leans back so you can crawl into his lap, gripping his hair, kissing him like it's the last thing you'll ever do. His fingers dip into the belt loops of your jean shorts, his other hand sneaking beneath your shirt and up your back; he feels the goosebumps on your nape and he wonders if they're from him or the breeze.

(You sigh into his neck, your lips trailing past his jaw; he knows it's him.)

When you finally pull away, he doesn't kiss you.

"What now?" you ask with a small smile, the sun on your cheeks and hands still bunched in his clothes.

Iwaizumi leans back on the hood of the car, grinning up at you, shaking his head. "Nothing. I can't just look?"

"That's kinda boring."

"Hah, whatever."

You hum a laugh, looking over your shoulder at the water.

"You're trying to tell me that you can see all of this and you might actually go home someday?"

Iwaizumi's looking at you when he tells you it's really hard to.

"Well," you murmur, "make sure to tell your Miyagi friends about your Cali fling, Haji."

"Fling? You're nuts."

"Ooh, do you love me?"

Iwaizumi's cheeks flush red as you laugh, leaving a gentle peck on his lips.

"Well, for the record, I guess I can love you, too."

"Wow, what's the dealbreaker?"

"I mean... come on, who doesn't love the beach!?"

He groans, watching as you slip off of him and the car, tugging your shirt over your head and dropping it to the ground. He raises a brow, but you just tsk. "You're still on my case about that, huh?"

"You're in California, freak."

"What'd you just call me?"

You bite your lip, snorting a laugh as you slowly back up towards the water. "Freak?"

"Oh, that's it—"

Iwaizumi wears a huge grin as he tugs his shirt off, too, dropping it by yours as you both ditch your shoes and run. You think you'd have the upper hand, but you almost forget who he is.

He catches up to you quickly when you take a turn for the water, grabbing you from the waist as you scream.

"Haji!" you laugh, "Your pants!"

He looks down at his wet pant legs, but he ignores it; he turns you around, hands on either side of your waist.

You smirk. "And to think I thought you hated the beach?"

Iwaizumi chuckles, shaking his head, little splashes of water dripping from his eyelashes.

"Who says I don't?" he challenges, hands drifting under your thighs as he wraps your legs around his waist. "Maybe I just do when you're not here."

[ghostofthemost141]

Here

CW: Pregnancy

~

"J-Johnny." You gasp, feeling a sharp pain emit in your stomach.

"What, lass?" Johnny grumbled, being awoken from your cry.

"I-It hurts."

"What does?" Johnny erupted fully awake hearing your pain.

"I think..the baby is coming."

Quick as a flash, Johnny jumped out of bed and started gathering your belongings together, your hospital bag, and helped you into your shoes.

"Ah fuck." You cried out, feeling the contractions get worse and worse.

"I know, 'ove. I know it hurts but I'm right 'ere, alrigh'?" Johnny tries to calm your nerves.

After Johnny helps you into your shoes, with all of y'alls belongings in tow, he wraps his arm around you and helps you to the car. Every step was painful for you, but you knew you had to get to the hospital. Johnny helped you into the passenger seat, buckling the seat belt despite it putting more pressure on your belly.

"I know it hurts, I'm sorry but it's for you're safety." Johnny reassures you.

He rushes to the driver's seat, tossing y'alls stuff to the back, and starts the rush drive to the hospital. A shooting pain shot into your stomach, sending you into a wailing scream. Johnny immedaitly held your hand while trying to focus on both you and the traffic he was swerving in and out of.

"You're alright, love, you're alright. I'm right here, just breathe for me okay? Breathe in." Johnny started.

You took a deep breathe in.

"Breathe out."

You breathed out. You continued to do this with Johnny until you arrived at the hospital. Once parked, Johnny grabbed you, held you tightly close to him, and rushed inside the hospital.

"My wife is in labor! She needs attention now!" Johnny cried out.

A hoard of nurses rushed in, one coming in with a wheelchair, and took you into the chair.

"Johnny.." You call him.

"I'm here, love. I ain't goin' anywhere." Johnny reassures you as he hurried alongside you and the nurses through the maternity ward.

The nurses got you into a room, hooking you up to all of the devices, determining that you were going to have to have a C-Section. It was the opposite of what you and Johnny wanted but there was nothing either of y'all could do.

"I'm sorry, Johnny." You apologize as Johnny approached you, covered in head to toe in blue medical gowns.

"What are you apologizing for?" Johnny asked you, getting close to you.

"I don't..know what's wrong with me." You croak as the nurses put up a thick sheet to cover up what was going on at your stomach.

"There's nothing wrong with ya, lass. Shite happens, ya know? All I care about is that you and our little lad are safe." Johnny reassures you, holding your hand tightly and leaning in close.

Even though he wore a white medical mask on his face, you knew he had a big smile on his face. The nurses injected a numbing agent so you wouldn't feel the surgery, but kept you awake.

"Can you feel this?" A nurse asked, poking a surgical knife on your skin.

You could feel the pressure of something on you, but didn't feel no pain.

"I feel pressure, but no pain." You say.

"Good. Going in." Nurse announced.

It felt like the sudden mass of a million hands were pushing on your stomach, it almost made you want to vomit.

"Are you okay, bonnie?" Johnny asked you.

"Y-Yeah. Just feel sick."

"It's normal." A nurse piped up, putting your nerves aside.

Johnny pulled his mask down, leaned in, and kissed you. It was a soft, passionate kiss full of love and comfort for you.

"I am right here, lass. Our baby is gonna be 'ere soon." Johnny tells you, rubbing his thumb onto your forehead.

"I know. You're going to be a great father." You tell him.

"And you're going to be a great mother." Johnny told you.

"Going into the uterus." The nurse announced.

"They're almost 'ere." Johnny told you.

He was like a little kid in a candy store, full of excitement and glee that he could hardly stand still. You've only ever seen Johnny cry once before, and now you have seen it a second time as the nurses pulled your baby out of your stomach and they unveiled their first cry into the world.

"Congratulations." The nurse told you both.

Tears ran down Johnny's face as he held your hand tighter, so happy to both you and y'all's child in his life. Johnny went to cut the umbilical cord, and tears befalled his face seeing their face for the first time.

"They're..they're so beautiful." Johnny croaked out as the nurse handed the baby off to him.

Johnny immediately approached you and got close, letting you see y'all's baby, the baby you both made.

"They look like you lass." Johnny said.

"They've got your eyes, Johnny." You point out, nearly sending Johnny over the edge.

"I'm so mad fucking happy right now." Johnny struggled through the tears and intense feelings he was feeling right now.

"I am too." You say.

As the nurses cleaned and sewed you back up, there was only one thing on both of y'all's minds right now. It was the fact that the two of y'all were both parents now, and Johnny would do everything in his power to protect you both, no matter what.

~

A/N: I love writing little drabbles like this. Hope y'all enjoyed it.

[attapullman]

If neighbor!Bob and our sweet reader get married and have children I just know Bob is making a swing set and playground for them :’) which inevitably leads to another little Floyd 🤭

NONNY

Don't mind me just sitting here and crying 😭

You're driving back from the pediatrician with the toddlers in tow, ready to hand them off to your neighbor-turned-husband. Walking through the house unable to find him, calling out his name only to hear muffled replies in the backyard.

And there he is, slutty tool belt on display as he unveils the swing and slide set he set up while you three were out. Hair slicked to his sweaty forehead, glasses sliding down his nose, and a beaming smile as the kids squeal in delight. Dad of the Year!

You couldn't agree more that night as you thank him your own special way. A special way that lands you back in the pediatrician's office a year later with three kids in tow.

[play-now-my-lord]

penguin's driving along the road, all of a sudden his car starts sputtering and coasts to a stop.

not good. he pops the hood and goes to have a look, but his little penguin body can't reach inside the engine compartment. sighing at his ill fortune, he grabs a milk crate from the backseat of the car that he keeps for such eventualities and goes back to the engine bay.

he looks at the belts. they're fine. he checks the oil; seems low. he has no idea where the nearest gas station is, but it seems like a hell of a walk, especially in the oppressive summer sun. he grabs his cell phone out of his jeans - he's wearing jeans, it's normal to him - and he goes to find the nearest gas station. apple maps is being predictably useless. he tries browsing to an external maps site but his internet connection is terrible. the penguin isn't getting enough data to see basically anything on the map. with a sinking feeling in his stomach, he realizes that if he can't get a good signal here, it's not like he's gonna figure out what's wrong with his car.

he's getting more and more frustrated by the situation, this penguin. he realizes the last thing he passed before his car broke down was a little parking lot whose handmade sign advertised fresh ice cream. probably a parked truck taking advantage of foot traffic to a nearby beach. what the hell, he thinks to himself, and goes over to get himself a cone. "hey buddy," says the ice cream man. "you got pistachio?", asks the penguin. "nope, not today" "you got rum raisin?" "pretty sure that's just baskin-robbins. no." "shucks. you got pralines and cream?" "nope." "well, what do you got?" "let me check." the ice cream man goes back to the back of his truck and returns a half a minute later. "sorry, pal. looks like all i got today is tutti frutti - that's a sherbert, technically - and vanilla." "that's all right. i'll have vanilla," says the penguin. "cone, waffle cone, or cup?" "what the hell, i'll have a waffle cone." "comes to $4.50," says the ice cream man. the penguin hands him a five dollar bill, and receives a quarter, a dime, and three nickels as change.

on his way back to the car, the penguin is kicking himself that at no point did he think to ask after a nearby mechanic, local tow companies, or even cell reception. he's kicking himself for a bit, but he has to admit the cold vanilla ice cream hits the spot, so it's not exactly a wasted trip. he finishes it just as he gets back to his car, and sees a pickup truck parked next to it on the shoulder of the road. a slim middle-aged man wearing oily work overalls waves at the penguin as he approaches, hands still beaded with sweat wiped off his brow. "car trouble," explains the penguin apologetically. the stranger looks at him then looks into the engine bay and grimaces.

"looks like you blew a seal," he says. "no, that's ice cream"

[rayslittlekitten]

I Almost Told You That I Loved You Ch. 18

Chapter 17 | IATYTILY Masterlist | Chapter 19

A/N: I am spoiling you guys lol. Another chapter already?!

Rating: T

Word Count: 1,223

Pairing: Jax Teller x F! reader

Plot: This takes place shortly after Tara leaves Charming. You start working at Teller-Morrow and an unlikely and messy relationship forms between you and Jax.

Warnings: Jax being Jax

You called Teller-Morrow but they currently don’t have anyone available to tow your car nor do they have an ETA. They told you the MC is away taking care of MC business so you can’t even get a hold of Jax. You want to curse Opie for letting a mechanic other than Kai take a look at your car. They only put a bandaid instead of actually fixing it. Letting out a heavy sigh as you search through your purse for another quarter for the pay phone, you find a slip of paper with a phone number on it.

“Thank you for picking me up,” you say to Will as you get in his car..

“Don’t worry about it. It’s a good thing you called before I left my house,” Will says. “You would have been stranded here.”

“I mean, I probably could have taken the bus or walked,” you chuckle.

“What about your car?”

“The manager at the market said I can leave my car in his lot until I can get it towed. He’s a really nice guy,” you answer. “I really appreciate you going out of your way,” you smile at him. “I really owe you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he tells you as he starts his car. “But um… I wouldn’t mind dinner. Just you and me?”

“I… “ you start, your gut doing somersaults having to say the next sentence. “I’m sorry Will, you’re very sweet, but I… I’m kinda, sorta seeing someone right now.”

Since being with Jax, you’ve never told Will you had been seeing someone on and off because you really didn’t know where you and Jax stood. You had no reason to mention him to Will.

“Oh,” he replies, surprised. He pulls out of the parking spot and starts driving off. “Well, where is he? Why isn’t he helping you?”

“He’s… he’s working right now.”

“It’s okay. We can still have dinner, right? As friends?” Will asks.

“I… guess we can.” 

“But only if you’re comfortable with that,” he clarifies. “And if it makes you feel better, we can do lunch instead, at the school cafeteria. Doesn’t matter to me where,” he shrugs.

“Okay,” you chuckle and smile at him. Your thumping heart starts to slow down as you were half expecting him to react poorly to your rejection, even though he’s never shown any signs of being aggressive. 

As he continues to drive to your aunt’s house to drop you and your groceries off, the two of you have engaging conversations about class and other things including swapping funny stories. In the middle of you telling something that happened at an MC party, you get interrupted.

“Wait, are you… are you dating Jax Teller?” Will asks, his eyes suddenly opening wide as saucers.

“Yeah, do you know him?” you ask curiously.

“I mean, not personally but I’ve heard things. Charming is a small town and he has a reputation,” he looks over at you. “And not a good one.”

“He’s a little rough around the edges, but he… he can be sweet when he wants to,” you tell him.

“Just be careful,” he warns. 

“I know he’s in a motorcycle club, but he’s not dangerous if that’s what you mean,” you explain. “He’s just going through some things, you know?”

Will doesn’t need an itemized receipt of all the issues you have with Jax so you keep it vague.

“I’m not trying to tell you who to date,” he replies as he pulls up to the curb in front of your house. “I’m just saying, just be careful.”

“I appreciate your concern, Will, but he’s not as terrible as you might’ve heard,” you tell him as you unbuckle your seatbelt. “Though I’m not sure what you’ve heard.”

“If you say so,” he shrugs. ”Oh, let me help you with the groceries.”

Will quickly unbuckles his belt as you step out of the car. He opens the back seat to grab a few bags as you do the same. After he helps you bring the groceries inside, you walk him back to his car.

“Again, thank you so so much for all your help,” you tell Will.

“Not a problem at all,” he reminds you as you both make your way back to his car.

A motorcycle engine roars louder as it whizzes down the block, slowing down when it reaches your house. You both watch the Harley pull up next to Will’s car that’s blocking the driveway. Jax hops off the bike and makes his way towards you and Will.

“What the hell is he doing here?” Jax asks with a snarl on his face.

“It’s nice to meet you too,” Will greets sarcastically.

“Shut the fuck up!” Jax steps up to Will but you step in between them.

“Jax, stop it! My car shitted out on me and Will helped me out,” you explain, stepping in between them.

“Of all people, you called him?” Jax looks at you while pointing to Will.

“No one at TM could help me and I didn’t know where the fuck you were!” you reply. 

Jax just shakes his head as his jaw ticks.

“I was out doing grown up shit, earning. Not still in school like children.” His eyes bores into Will’s. 

“What are you even doing here?” you ask him.

“When I got back to the clubhouse, I was told you called about your car and I didn’t know where the hell to find you so this was the first place I tried,” he answers, turning back to you. “But I didn’t think I’d find this fucking nerd walking out of your house. Did you go suck him off? Return the favor? Did it to get back at me?”

“You know, you’re really fucking rude!” Will defends, stepping a bit closer. 

“I wasn’t talking to you, asshole!” Jax tries to get in Will’s face but you put a stop to it.

“What the fuck, Jax?” You see Mr. Hyde is making his appearance again.

“Will,” you turn to him for a moment. “Thank you for the ride. I will see you next week at school.”

“I’m not gonna leave you alone here with this prick,” Will tells you without breaking the staring contest he’s having with Jax.

“I’ll be fine,” you assure him.

Will continues to stare Jax down, not budging.

“Please!” You plead with him.

Jax lounges at Will and you stop him. Will hops back with his hands up.

“Get the fuck out of here before I put you in a body bag!”

“Will, please, just go! I’ll call you later!” You urge once more.

“Like hell you are!” Jax turns to you.

“You know what? You need to go, Jax.”

“Are you serious right now?” He looks at you with deep furrowed brows.

“Thank you for coming to check on me and my car, but I’m good,” you add, crossing your arms.

His jaw ticks as he continues to stare you down.

“You’re really gonna choose him over me?” His leathered finger points to Will.

“I’m choosing myself over you,” you simply reply.

With that, Jax shakes his head as he hops back on his bike. He gives you two one last staredown before taking off. You let out a shaky breath that you’ve been holding as the adrenaline still pumps through you.

[sketchy-rosewitch]

I have a prompt for you :3

A/B/O Bo x reader. They came with of a werewolf group, but y/n is a human and not a wolf. Bo’s taken a liking to y/n and wants them to stay. So he marks them as his in front of y/n’s alpha friend, which shows the friend that y/n can’t leave. So, they leave behind y/n, and y/n slowly learns to fit in with Bo and their new life.

Hope this makes since, sorry if it doesn’t. Thank you and have a good day!

All of My Instincts Return: Werewolf!Bo Sinclair x afab!gn!reader

Warnings: Marking someone nonconsesually, werewolves, blood.

A/N: My bad. I didn’t mean to take so long on this! I just really wanted to work hard and get it perfect. It was a really amazing idea!

You hum softly as you and your friends walk through the small town looking for the gas station.

“I don’t like this place. You sure we can’t just get that guy to drive one of us to Baton Rouge to get a fan belt and come back?” Trevor sniffs the air and crinkles his nose, your two other friends, Jeremy and Adam do the same each of them making the same expression.

The four of you were on your way to meet up with some of your friend’s pack mates. Jeremy decided to stop for the night so everyone could sleep and be refreshed since the other werewolves you were meeting could be… a lot. Especially for you since you were a human.

Well, the four of you got up and Jeremy went to start the van so your group could head out. Unfortunately, nothing happens, he tries over and over again and getting frustrated he slammed the door shut and popped open the hood. When he went to look inside he let out a huff and a growl. The damn fan belt snapped.

Luckily it was windy, the weather kept you cool from the otherwise blazing hot sun and your group wasn’t waiting in it long before a man in a truck pulled up asking if you needed help. The man agreed to drive you to Ambrose.

As soon as you left the vehicle and he drove off and Adam made a comment about the driver smelling like a werewolf.

“Who cares? You guys smell that shit in so many places and sometimes it’s just because there’s a dog there. Maybe there’s a dog here. I bet they’ll be very cute.” You say smiling as the gas station comes into view. You walk ahead of your group excited to finally have a savior to your problem.

A tall brunet man stands outside smoking a cigarette, leaning against the gas station wall. Jeremy is right next to you again as if he’s protecting you. “Hi, are you Bo? A guy drove us here saying he could help us with a new fan belt.” Your brunet friend explains. The man flicks some ash off his cigarette.

“Yeah I’m him. What size you need?” He asks, sucking in smoke then puffing it out.

“17 inch.”

Bo nods as he drops the used up cigarette and stomps it out. He gestures to follow him as he heads inside.

“What’re you doing out here?” Bo asks. His hands are on his hips as he’s looking at all of the belts.

“They’re taking me to meet their friends. Little reunion.” You explain. You can’t help but keep staring at Bo. He moves smoothly and confidently, grabbing the fan belt and heading to the truck. He’s alluring.

“I can bring it back to the shop, fix it here and you’ll be back on the road. Just need someone to come with me, show me where the car is.” Bo explains as he grabs his keys, he sniffles and rubs his nose with the back of his hand.

“I can go.” You volunteer. Though Jeremy is quick to grab your arm, holding it a little tightly.

“It’s my car, I’ll go.” He says. You pout and look at your friend.

“I already volunteered.” You reply, Jeremy sighs and grabs the bridge of his nose. Something is up but you’re too blind to see it, Jeremy can’t tell you anything either too afraid to piss off the mechanic and then he’s definitely not getting his fan belt.

“We’ll both go.”

Bo let’s put a chuckle. “Whatever you guys wanna do.”

Quickly you hop in and Jeremy comes in after you. Bo starts up the tow truck and the three of you head out of town and towards your broken down vehicle.

“So where are you from?” Bo asks, his posture is laid back, only having on hand on the steering wheel and an arm on the window sill.

“Massachusetts.” You answer. “Have you always been in Ambrose?” You turn and raise a brow at him curiously, knowing that the people who live in small towns are likely to have lived there their whole lives.

“Yeah, been here my whole life, me and my brothers all still live here. Never had a reason to leave.” He says casually. Jeremy points him down the road.

“Straight shot from here.”

Bo nods, acknowledging he heard your friend.

“I couldn’t imagine that. We travel so much, I don’t know what I’d do if I had to stay in one place forever.”

Bo looks at you curiously. “What places have you been?”

“We’ve been all over the country, Texas, Washington, The Dakotas, Wisconsin. We got family everywhere so we stay with them. I like meeting Jeremy, Trevor and Adam’s relatives. They’re nice and they treat me so well. The guys tend to get jealous cause I get spoiled. This time though we’re meeting old friends of Jeremy’s I’m super excited. Jer told me they play rough. Which is fun I love playing in the dirt.”

Bo smirks. “Do ya now?”

“Yeah! I used to play with my siblings all the time in the dirt and we’d get mud all over each other. Then mom and dad would hose us off.”

His teeth show as he grins and you let out a small gasp.

“You have very sharp canines! Jeremy has some too. Jeremy show him!” You smack your friend lightly to get his attention.

“Yeah he’s a werewolf.” Jeremy grumbles. Your jaw drops and you hit him lightly again.

“Why didn’t you tell me? You guys are all so different from each other. Did you turn or were you born?”

“Birdie…” Jeremy gives you a warning glance, you frown.

“Sorry.”

Bo smiles at you. “No, no it’s fine. My brothers and I were born. The gene skipped my parents and went to us.”

You look at him with awe, then the truck stops. He backs it up and gets out of the car to get it onto the tow.

“You need to be careful with him. His pheromones are high right now.” Jeremy mumbles.

“I’m fine. You know I’m doing this for a research book, I need wolves from different walks of life. Having a homebody is something I’ve never seen! It’s a perfect addition!”

Your friend lets out a sigh and nods. “Okay, but I’m watching him.”

It doesn’t take long to get back to Ambrose. You continued to ask Bo questions and even explain why you were asking these questions. He gave you all of the answers you needed.

Jeremy gets out of the tow truck and walks over to Trevor and Adam. You ignore them and follow Bo into the garage, he pops open the hood of the car and goes in to fix the fan belt.

“Do you like being a werewolf?”

Cold metal hits your lower back as you lean against a table, typing away answers on your phone.

“Has its upsides and downsides.” Bo grunts putting the newer fan belt in. “Mostly upsides. I like the diet, also I can regulate my heat better, running is.. far more fun, stuff like that.” Bo shuts the hood of the car and looks around for any other problems with the car. He stands up and heads outside, you follow behind him.

“Did you finish?” Jeremy asks, standing up, he meets Bo half way and the mechanic nods.

“Yeah, no other problems with your car either.”

“Thank you. How much?” Your friend takes out his wallet.

“55.”

“You sure? Normally those things cost 75-90.”

“Yeah, hardly come across people like me. We’ll call it a.. family discount.” Bo smirks as Jeremy hands him the cash.

You frown slightly wanting to stay a little longer. You look between your friends and Bo. You weren’t even half way done with the questions you wanted to ask. You needed more answers, he was different from the others. The upsides to being a wolf for him, were downsides for everyone else. How Bo and his brothers managed to stay in one place also boggled your mind, everyone else was known for moving, they loved traveling, making new friends. It was their nature.

“Can we stay for a little longer Jer?”

Your friend looks at you and bites his lip. “Birdie, I really wanted to get going before nightfall.”

You stick your bottom lip out. “Come on. This is really important. Please?”

Jeremy looks up at the sky, then at the ground, shaking his head. “Fine… is there uh, anything to do while we are here?” He asks Bo. Bo gives a friendly smile.

“Wax Museum right up the road. Real nice in there. It’s free, make sure you’re careful and don’t touch anything.” He answers, Jeremy nods and him, Adam, and Trevor head up the road.

“I need to make a call real quick. We don’t get many visitors anymore. Hold on.” Bo walks back into the shop, you follow him until you get to the same metal table you were leaning in before. This time though, you sit on one of the chairs instead.

It takes a few minutes but Bo walks back in and sits across from you. He lights a cigarette and you smile happy to get to know the man more. He was just so attractive you couldn’t not stay for a little longer.

“So, uh- what do you specifically do during full moons. Like rituals I guess, cause my friends each do something different. So what’s your thing, you can take about your brothers’ things too!”

“Hunt.”

“What do you hunt?”

There’s a glint in his eyes, your stomach tightens a bit, nervous for his answer.

“Rabbits and Deer.”

It’s a lie, but you continue smiling. “Do you and your brothers do it together?”

“Yeah, we’re all spread out. Makes it easier to corner the prey.” The mechanic shrugs and flicks some ash on the floor. You nod. “So, do you have somethin’ for wolves?”

Your eyes are wide as you look up at him from your phone. You let out a little laugh. “No no! I-uh just- I mean.. No but yeah, but like I’m also just curious. I mean you are attractive but you’re so different from the other werewolves I’ve interviewed and I- fuck man. Can’t just hit me with that!” A laugh escapes your lips, you look down and away from Bo, feeling so awkward. Did he know about how attractive you found him?

He lets out a chuckle and ashes his cigarette. “Sorry bunny. You’re surrounded by them. The observation made me curious.” He shrugs.

“I mean I guess I do? I don’t know, Jeremy said something about the way I smell. It makes werewolves attracted to me. Also just being around them all the time makes me feel safe. I mean I’m not one. But we seem to have some type of mutual appreciation of each other.” You explain, Bo nods his head.

“Well you are very kind and curious. It’s amazing how none of them have wanted you for themselves.”

Bo’s posture is relaxed as he leans back in his chair. You furrow your brows but let out a laugh. Bo can tell you’re getting nervous. “Thanks? I- I don’t know how I’m supposed to take that..”

“A compliment. Sorry, we can get back to you askin’ the questions.”

He seems to back off and you relax, ready to continue the interview.

-

Bo Sinclair has you giggling and sitting next to him by the time your friends come back. Adam coughs and you look over to see it’s almost dark. You smile sadly and realize that you have to go. But it’ll be okay, you got the answers you needed and more from the older wolf.

You start to get up and Bo follows after you.

“You ready to go?” Jeremy asks, putting an arm around you. You nod, realizing you’ll be at his friend’s place in just a few hours.

“Oh, Bunny. I have somethin’ else for you, little send off my brothers’ and I do it when we meet someone new. So they can remember us. I think it’ll be good for you to write in your book.” Bo gestures you to come over to him. Jeremy hesitates to let go but does so when you pull fully away. A grin comes across your face, excited for what he has to offer.

“You ready?”

You nod. He leans into your neck and bite down, drawing blood. You gasp and grab his shoulders in shock as he sucks some out of you.

It feels like forever before he lets go. You look at him with your eyes wide, you pant and look over to Jeremy, who’s getting ready to beat the shit out of Bo. You can tell by the look on his face.

“Fucking-“

“Jeremy let’s just go it’s fine.” You start to walk towards the van. Your heart begins to ache though. “Come on.”

“You can’t leave.” Jeremy says, his voice is firm and you look at him confused.

“What the hell do you mean? Sure I can, we can go right now. Let’s go, come on.” Nervousness overrides every emotion you have. Being told you couldn’t leave made you feel trapped.

“You. can’t. Leave.”

“Yes I can.”

“No, you can’t! Fuck, he marked you Birdie! Your Bo’s! He claimed you. He-FUCK!” I’m going to fucking kill you!” Jeremy turns around and something kicks in, you run between Bo and Jeremy, covering Bo’s neck, causing your friend to stop in his tracks, looking halfway between man and wolf.

“Bo… why’d you do that?“

Your heart breaks, your life feels like it’s over. You’re trapped in small town you don’t know anything about. A man you thought you could trust, broke it in seconds.

“Bunny, I had to have you for myself. Your smell, the way you act, and look. You’re perfect. It’s no wonder other werewolves are always after you. You’re everything a wolf could want. I couldn’t pass it up.”

You look at Bo, he went from a good dog, to the big bad wolf in a matter of seconds. One bite made your life change. Tears ran down your cheeks. You look at your friends. They look just as sad as you. They’re worried and mad they can’t do anything to fix your problem.

“Can you get my stuff out of the van.” You whisper, knowing all of them can hear you.

Adam unlocks the door and opens it, pulling out your backpack, duffel bag, and a suitcase. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking right. We should’ve just left. I shouldn’t have asked questions.” More tears come down and you draw in a shaky breath before letting it out. Jeremy looks at you.

“Don’t say that. You didn’t know, I should’ve said something.” Then your friend looks up at Bo. “I need you to take care of them. They’re not your property. They’re human, they need someone who is going to take care of them. So do it. I’ll be back to visit them.” He threatens. Bo’s face looks more serious. He nods his head and the few belongings you had are put at your feet.

Your heart feels empty as you hug each of your friends, giving them one last goodbye, they head off to finish the trip you were so excited to make.

-

For the first week you only ever left your room to use the bathroom. Then you’d be back in it, typing away on your laptop or calling Jeremy for updates.

You never talked to Bo, though he would talk to you when he gave you your breakfast, lunch and dinner, which were all hardly touched. He lectured you two weeks after you lived in Ambrose about finishing your food. He hunted and cooked it for you and he promised he’d take good care of you, that meant you needed to eat.

The third week you left your room and met Vincent, then got a formal introduction to Lester.

Vincent was quiet, but you could still sense when he was watching. So you started having one sided conversations with him. He was nice to have around, friendly, polite. Vincent would show you things and even started to write things down so the conversations went both ways two weeks into knowing him.

Lester was the complete opposite. Constant talking and showing you things he found in the woods or when he’s picking up roadkill. He’d talk about his childhood far more than Bo and Vincent did. He also took you on small trips to the store and some night markets, even invited you to a restaurant once or twice, just to get out of town.

Then you learned about the town after you had met Bo’a brothers. It was just the them. Your instinct was right, they killed people. Though it wasn’t just for food, Vincent and Bo had explained their mother’s legacy. Wanting to complete a town full a wax like she always wanted to do. Lester admitted to you that he never cared for his mom or her wax town.

It’s been two months since your friend’s had left you in the small town of Ambrose.

You bite down on your thumb nail as you reread over the three newest chapters in your research paper. It was hard work to get it done but you had nothing else to do in Ambrose. Bo didn’t want you working currently, especially not during the summer heat, so he had you up at the house.

“Hey.”

You turn around in the desk chair you are sitting in and raise your brows at Bo.

“I need you to stay in tonight.” He starts. You cross your arms, indicating you’re listening to him. “Full moon.”

“I’ve been around you guys during a full moon Bo. Two of them to be exact.”

“This one’s different. It’s a Blue Moon. I’m not risking anythin’. Stay. Inside.” Bo bares his teeth in a growl. Reluctantly, you sigh and nod your head, agreeing to do just that. He comes in and kisses your head before leaving. Something he started doing when you got used to your living situation.

The issue is, you aren’t staying inside. You have too much research to do and you’ve never been around around ANY of your friends during a Blue Moon. Only a Blood Moon. Damn wolves kept trying to give you food, thinking you couldn’t feed yourself.

You finish what you’re doing and shut your laptop. It’s dusk when you look out the window, the moon already seems so bright in the sky, illuminating everything in a blue hue.

You slip on your pants and a different shirt, then tie up your boots. You grab your cross body bag and go to head out the door.

No one is there is stop you, typical of a full moon night. Each of the brothers picks a spot and they hunt for prey, sometimes it’s human if someone or even a group of people are unfortunate enough to stumble onto their territory.

You know where Bo hunts, so you easily make your way into his area of the woods. You follow the trail of his torn clothes, you frown thinking he didn’t have enough time to take them off. You write a note down in your phone to ask him about it later and continue making your way to him, now caring about making any noise. Your mate will know you’re there because of your smell.

A silhouette looks in the distance. You squint trying to make out who it is. You don’t remember Bo being this big when you’ve seen him the first few times, nor were Vincent or Lester. In fact Lester was the smallest one out of the three.

You hope there isn’t a secret fourth brother. Taking a deep breath you slowly walk towards the creature.

The creature turns and faces towards you, all you see are their glowing blue eyes, that’s when you know it’s Bo.

You smile, becoming less and less hesitant you stand straight and stride towards him. He does the same, except it isn’t his typical stride. It’s slow steps, then a stop, you watch his tail freeze. Bo’s hair sticks up on his back.

He’s hunting you.

Quickly you suck in a breath and turn, running back towards the ghost town of Ambrose as fast as you can.

Stupid. You’re stupid. You should’ve listened to him. He knows better than you. You easily could’ve asked what happens and he would’ve answered. Now he’s going to kill you.

You try your best to avoid the roots and sticks on the forest floor. It’s difficult with the leaves but you persist. Thinking you’re home free you silently cheer, that is until your bag gets caught on a branch. Which pulls you back, causing you to lose your footing and fall to the ground, knocking the wind from your stomach.

You gasp, starting to freak out. Bo catches up to you easily and you turn, before have the chance to react his muzzle is around your neck.

You let out a small whimper, feeling his canines penetrate your neck slightly, causing stinging and bleeding.

He lets go, and in the moonlight through the trees you see your blood covering his teeth.

Bo growls at you before licking his teeth and your neck.

“Did I shock you?” He grunts, his voice more gravely than usual. You nod your head and take deep breaths, looking into his blue wolfish eyes.

“You’re trembling. You’re scared aren’t you?” His lips curl as he bares his teeth. As if he’s trying to scare you more.

“No, not at all.” Your heart beat slows and you managed to bring your shakes hands to his head, running your fingers through his brownish fur. He moves his face into your hand. “It’s cause I know it’s you. You’d never hurt me. You just marked me again didn’t you?”

“Yes.” He grunts. His head leans down, licking your neck. “I love you. You’re mine.”

“Oh I love you too Bo.”

-

You wake up to a naked Bo laying on you. He’s slowly waking up himself. He rubs his eyes and squints looking around the forest frantically. You ground him, petting his hair gently.

Bo looks at you and kisses you gently.

“I could’ve bred you. I could’ve hurt you, broken every bone in your body, could’ve killed you. Could’ve ripped your throat out and you would’ve been gone.” Bo kisses you again. “I told you to stay inside.” He holds your face. “You need to listen.”

You look into his eyes, this time they’re human. They’re worried, but you smile and hold his face too.

“But you didn’t. I don’t think you were ever going too. At least you weren’t going to hurt or kill me. You can’t, you can’t do it even if you tried. It’s not in your nature. You would’ve killed yourself if you did that. You can’t bare to lose me.” You explain. Bo sighs and bites his lips.

“You got all of that just from me huntin’ you?”

You nod your head. “Now can we head back up to the house. I’m sore. Dirt isn’t exactly the best bed.”

Bo laughs and gets up. “You don’t happen to have any pants on you do you?”

It’s the first time you see him blush. You shake your head. “I have your hoodie though.” You point to your bag.

Breathing a sigh of relief, he walks a few yards back to it and grabs it, pulling the hoodie down over himself.

The two of you walk back to the house and you realize you’ve fallen for Bo more than you’ve hoped.

[gimmethosedaddymilkers]

Modern Arthur Morgan Headcannons

This was requested by @mrsarthurmorgan7​ Modern Arthur is one of my favorite things to think about, and I think it’s mainly because he....well cause tattoos more than likely, so lets get this ball rolling! 

Ok, so first things first

Modern Arthur’s job

It’s important to him, it might not pay well, but it is important to him.

He loves his job, he has so much fun with it! 

He’s a mechanic of course. 

Well, I mean, he likes his side hustle at Dutch’s ranch where he helps out with the horses, takes care of them, runs them when the need to be worn out, and helps wrangle the new ones, but when he isn’t doing that he’s working over at the mechanic shop he started with a couple of the boys, Charles and John.

He meets you when your car breaks down in the middle of nowhere and he just happened to be on the road in his tow truck. 

You had very little knowledge about what went on under the hood, I mean, you could Identify what car brand was what, Honda, Hyundai, Subaru, Chevy, Ford, the list goes on, but you couldn’t tell a head gasket from a piston. 

So, when he sees you on the side of the road, the hood up on your orange 1971 Dodge Challenger he whistles to himself and pulls over.

To be honest with you he was really just interested in the car more so than you, at least that was until he got out of the truck.

He pulled on that stupid dodge baseball cap of his and did the best to wipe the oil off his hands.

When he finally gets out of his old tow truck and moves around your car, again whistling, which this time catches your attention.

When you lean around and offer a shy smile to him.

Oh, it’s love at first sight.

He has to compose himself, but when he does he mentions how much he loves the year of your car, how it’s his favorite model, and he wished that they were still made.

You admit to him that you only got it because it made you feel like you were actually important with all the looks you got.

He laughs at that and offers to take a look under the hood, to which you gladly allow because you have no idea what else you’re gonna do otherwise. 

When Arthur takes a look under the hood he realizes that your problem is probably gonna cost a fortune to fix, and more than likely whoever had sold you the car had known that it was an issue,

Mainly because the damage seemed man made. In his opinion the guy who sold it was probably hoping you’d come back and pay him more to fix it.

“Well, it ain’t pretty I ain’t gonna lie to ya.” 

He doesn’t tell you how much it will cost you, mainly because he is absolutely smitten with you.

Instead he offers to hook you up and drive you back to his garage and take a better look at what parts he’s got in stock.

Of course you let him and from there the two of you climb into his truck and are on your way to a little car garage run by three guys in a fairly small town. 

The whole ride there the two of you bond, and it comes to your attention that you like him, he’s handsome and he’s incredibly charming with the way he talks to you the whole ride over. 

When you get there he looks the car over a little more carefully and goes through his inventory to figure out if he’s got what he needs.

You can’t help but watch him in that black tank top with a red grease rag hooked in to one of his belt loops and a concentrated look in his eyes.

A wrench in hand and grease and oil smeared all over him.

You realize that maybe....

You do in fact feel something for this kind stranger. 

When he finishes up and claims that it’s on the house, you demand that you pay him for the hard work he’s done, considering that it took him a solid two hours to do it.

He smiles a little sheepishly at you and then says you can make it up to him if you agree to go on a date with him.

You happily agree, and that’s where the wonderful relationship between you two starts.

Lord have mercy, from there the two of you are nearly inseparable. I mean, you do everything together.

He introduces you to his family, Dutch and Hosea up at the ranch, John and Charles, though John is on accident, he just happens to be in the shop when the two of you were uh....fooling around 

You two still had wonderful, AMAZING sex that night.

Your first time with him and from there you knew you weren’t gonna leave him.

I mean, you knew that you weren’t going to before you did it with him but...

sealed the deal for sure.

That was only about six months into dating.

Sean, Lenny, Javier, Bill and the others all come later, when Dutch and Hosea hold a holiday get together, and all of them absolutely adore you.

After just a year of dating he asks you to move in with him, and in all honesty he wanted to ask you to move in after only a few months, but he waited just because he didn’t want to push his luck with you.

His house is small, but it’s in no way uncomfortable. 

It’s just a little ranch house, not far from his shop, and while the house is little there’s plenty of land to expand it if you need too.

He’s got three vehicles that he stores lovingly in the garage which is much bigger than the house. 

A 1969 Camero, a newer, probably like 2020, Chevy truck, and a Harley Davidson bike, which he LOVES to ride in the summer.

And boy, he is absolutely 

HOT 

on that bike. 

His cigarettes rolled up in his sleeve to keep them where he can find them, and those tight fitting jeans

AH

Now, every once in a while, even though you’re moved into the same house together you get anxiety, horrible, horrible anxiety.

I mean, crippling, as well as depression, and Arthur understands.

He gets it, he has both of those himself, but he doesn’t understand why you think he’d start hating you all the sudden.

He loves you with everything he has and every time he sees you sitting there with that look on your face he knows your in your head too much.

Those are the days when he simply kisses your forehead and then guides you out to his truck where he then takes you out to Dutch’s ranch and the two of you spend the rest of the day riding until you’re ready to talk about what’s going on in your head.

If you refuse that, he’ll gladly sit behind you and cuddle with you until you want to talk. 

Sometimes all you need is some reassurance and he’s happy to give it to you.

In return you always offer reassurance to him when he needs it, he has issues just like you do. 

The night he proposes to you is a night you’ll never forget.

You came home from work, it had been the shittiest day of the week. 

The whole day you’d been harassed, you’d been yelled at, you hated work.

When you come through the door you’re hoping to just take a bath and curl up with Arthur but you’re greeted with something else. 

The living room is completely dark, and all you can see is a candle lit in the kitchen.

When you plop your bag down you hear a radio click on and one of your favorite country songs, one of Arthur’s as well, “Must Be Doin’ Somethin’ Right” starts to play. 

You walk to the kitchen and there he is, kneeling next to a boombox wearing his best suit he’s got, and a small jewelry box in his hands.

“Darlin’, I....Y/N I love you to the ends of the earth, I love ya more than life itself. You mean more to me than anything else in my life, and...Well Shit, I wish I coulda done this with more finesse...Y/N L/N, will you marry me?” 

Of course you say yes.

The two of you embrace and share a passionate kiss that makes the day’s troubles disappear from your mind. 

He’s the best husband you could have asked for.

.....Wedding headcannons soon? Modern....not modern???? THOUGHTS?

[slasher-male-wife]

"You're supposed to change it?": Bo Sinclair x airhead male reader

I know I haven't posted in a hot minute so here's this for y'all. Mostly wrote this for @k1nn1e-0n-ma1n because he is so down bad for Bo rn. This is sort of based around the "Slashers with an airhead s/o" post I made but with a male reader.

Warnings: Reader is very air, mentions of murder, mentions of roadkill, not proof read

Lester called Bo as he picked you up from your broken down car. Lester doesn't call often, but when he does it's usually important. He warned Bo that you're pretty dumb, but how dumb could you actually be? When you first walked in Bo quickly took notice of how handsome you looked.

Bo has convinced himself that he's not gay, but that doesn't mean he can't check you out. All men check out other men in a platonic way. Of course they do.

"Well how can I help ya?" He says. You walk to the counter and give him a warm smile.

"Ok so my car broke down a few miles from here and I had no idea why. But that nice man who gave me a ride told me it's because my fan belt or something broke. He also said there was an issue with my oil." You tell him. Bo nods his head, you'd clearly be an easy kill.

"When was the last time you had your oil changed?" He asks. You smile and laugh nervously, biting your bottom lip awkwardly.

"I didn't know you're supposed to change it." You say as you start picking at your nails. Bo stifles a chuckle and nods his head.

"You're supposed to change it every six months or 10,000 miles. How long have you been drivin' that car?" He asks. You press your lips together tightly.

"About um, 11 months." You say softly, looking at the ground. Bo is astounded that you even made it this far in one piece. He just nods his head and takes out his phone.

"Well I'll get that man who brought you here to tow your car back for ya." You smile softly as Bo dials the number on his phone.

"Oh thank you so much. I swear I don't know what I'd be doing if it weren't for smart men like yourself." Bo gives you a smile and walks into the back of the station. While on the phone with Lester he explains to go tow your car back here and tell Vincent not to kill you. Bo's got a strange feeling he should keep you around. He's kept women around before, but not a man. You don't feel like the women before, you feel different,

Bo walks back in and finds you looking around the station. He puts on his charming smile and walks over to you.

"Now how bout we go up to my house so I can get you that fan belt." He says with a smile.

"You keep fan belts at your house? Do all mechanics do that?" You ask, running a hand over your hair.

"I have deliveries sent up to my house just cause I don't want anyone stealing anything. Now lets go get that fan belt."

"That sounds good. Do you think my car will be done within the next few days? I have somewhere I need to be." You say as the two of you leave the station.

"Well if it's just an oil and fan belt change I'm sure you'll be fine. Where are you off to in such a hurry?" He asks, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it.

"Ok don't laugh at me, but I'm a model and I have this shoot I'm going to. I live farther north but flying down here was too expensive for me so I just decided to drive." Bo smiles and nods as he takes a drag.

"I could tell you're some kind of model or actor. You've got a real nice face for it." He says as he blows out his smoke. You chuckle and smile again, Bo can't help but admire how handsome you look again.

"Oh well being a model isn't all fun and games, but it's still nice making a living off being so hot." You joke. Bo looks over you again and solidifies that he has to keep you around for a bit longer than most victims.