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chestharrington · 5 months

Text

Infatuation || Gator Tillman x Reader

Part One: Fixation

Rating: E (18+)

Word Count: 7.9k

Warnings: SMUT (f!masturbation, fingering, unprotected p in v), mild/implied stalking, abuse of power, brief non-sexual choking, harassment, slut shaming, misogyny, unplanned pregnancy, implied/referenced abortion, unhappy/ambiguous ending

Summary: As you face the consequences of your unsatisfying encounter with Gator, he finds new ways to worm his way into your life, for better or worse.

A/N: Here is the highly requested part two :) Thanks for all the love, and I hope you enjoy! This can be read as a finale of sorts to this story, but if there is interest I can write a "wrap up" epilogue :) Anyways, enjoy!

As it turns out, Gator Tillman beating the guy you were dancing on within an inch of his life wasn’t exactly good for your career. And the fact that you had technically stolen that guy’s money was the shit icing on the shit cake.

The club was crowded, maybe more so than you were used to, but you couldn’t find a single patron who wanted you for a dance, or a private dance, or even a second of eye contact.

And, really, you should have seen it coming just based on the general trajectory of your life, but by the end of the night, you were fired. Apparently, that stint with the realtor and Gator had harmed the stellar reputation of the business. That was bullshit anyway. Like, four people had OD’d in the bathrooms, and plenty of old guys had heart attacks on the floor.

The problem wasn’t that the realtor got the shit beat out of him. No, plenty of guys came in, got drunk, and wanted to prove how tough they were. The problem was Gator, but, more than that, it was a fear of the Tillman’s getting too close.

You left the club with maybe thirty dollars in tips and a box full of your shit, which you unceremoniously dumped into the trunk of your car. It was past five in the morning, which meant the sun would start creeping over the horizon soon enough.

As you drove back into town, you couldn’t help but pull over at the twenty-four-hour diner. The homey interior glowed through the windows like a siren song to weary travelers. It always smelled like coffee and grease, and there were always oldies playing on the jukebox. You sat down in a booth and practically melted into the seat.

The older woman taking your order seemed nice enough, though there wasn’t anything about working at the asscrack of dawn that brought a smile to anyone’s face.

“Does Sarah still work here?” You asked, glancing back behind the counter.

“Quit.”

Well, there was that. Your ex-husband’s skanky mistress wouldn’t be showing her face to ruin your night (or, technically, your day) even further.

There was a sign on the counter— Now Hiring! Probably in Sarah’s position, if you had to wager a guess. You chewed on the inside of your lip. It wouldn’t be glamorous, but it would be a hell of a lot better than it had been at the club.

“You’re really hiring?” You eventually asked the older waitress as you nursed a cup of hot chocolate. When she brought out your meal— a big stack of pancakes and the greasiest pile of hash browns the world had ever seen— she placed an application and pen down right beside it.

They really must’ve been desperate, because you got the call the following afternoon that they’d like to interview, and even that wasn’t formal. You walked in, got a three-page employee “manual”, and that was that.

Things seemed to be getting better… at first. A new job that had significantly fewer creeps, and free food once a shift. You got to wear flat shoes and real clothes, which was also a plus. A little less money in your pocket, but it was more stable.

Occasionally, you’d get a tipper who thought it was cute to leave a fake $100 bill with a bible verse on the other side, or an old man grabbing at your tits and ass “accidentally.” Spills and messes were more frequent than you expected— and usually wound up on your apron or soaking through your shoes.

The good with the bad. You had to keep reminding yourself to take the good with the bad.

It was a few weeks of getting on your feet before Stark County’s finest walked through the doors, boisterous and loud. You hadn’t noticed, hadn’t even thought to consider that Gator might visit the town’s best source for greasy comfort food.

When you came out from the back of the diner, your eyes caught him immediately, sitting in your section. You swallowed, grabbed your order pad and a pen, and approached.

“Good mornin’, officers.” He looked up at the sound of your voice, a sly grin spreading across his features. “Do y’all know what you want, or can I run through the menu for you?”

One of the other men just snapped his fingers at you. “Coffee all around.”

You swallowed and nodded. “Yes, sir. I’ll get that right out.”

You heard them snickering as you left, accompanied by loud whispers of don’t you know who that is?

Gator was staring at you, maybe he had been the entire time and you just hadn’t let yourself look. “We’ve missed you at the club, sweetheart. Wanna give us a twirl for old time’s sake?” His grin was smarmy as he looked you up and down, reaching over the table to place down the mugs of coffee. Your blouse gaped open, giving him a glimpse of your cleavage and a remarkably unsexy comfy bra.

As you reached to place the last mug down, Gator slapped your ass hard, making you spill the hot coffee across the table. His little friends laughed as your face burned hot. You did your best to mop up the mess of coffee, but it wasn’t enough and the table was left sticky and gross.

“You’re not gonna get a good tip if you’re so clumsy,” one of them said with a grin, holding up a dollar bill. It felt slimy, like you were back in the club entertaining them for singles.

An hour later, you had coffee and grits spilled on you, as well as a plate accidentally knocked off the table to shatter on the floor. They laughed at you on your hands and knees, picking up pieces of the china from the black and white tiled floor. And at the end of it all, unsurprisingly, there was no tip, no thank you, no anything.

You wish you would’ve spit in their food, but there was always next time. And you knew there was gonna be a next time.

But Gator didn’t like sharing, especially not his playthings. One morning of watching his friends make your life hell had been enough, you supposed. The next time they came in, they were nothing but respectful. All yes ma’am, no ma’am, thank you ma’am. The message was clear enough. He wanted you all to himself.

After a day on your feet, all you wanted to do was watch a shitty reality show on the couch you’d stolen from your ex-husband. You smelled like the deep fryer, which made you nauseous, but you knew if you took a shower, you’d pass out shortly after.

There was a loud knock on your door that nearly made you jump out of your skin. You stood, wrapped a blanket around your shoulders, and opened the door just a crack.

“We got a tip that you might be harboring illegal contraband on the premises.” Gator was leaning against your doorframe like he owned the place, his foot carefully wedged between the door so you couldn’t slam it closed.

You grit your teeth. What bullshit. “You don’t have a search warrant, asshole.”

He gave a careless shrug. “Eh, maybe I don’t, but who fuckin’ cares about that?”

You stood firm, holding the door in place as best as you could while he pushed against it. “Gator, no. Whatever game this is, I don’t wanna play. I have a headache, and I’m exhausted, so—” He gave a firm push on the door, and your strength failed you. You fell to the side as he barreled his way in, making a beeline towards your bedroom.

The door slammed shut, followed by the click of the lock turning. With a groan, you went for the coat closet and retrieved a wire hanger that you could finagle the lock with. After a moment, the lock clicked again and you pushed your way into the room.

What the fuck? He was rifling through your dresser drawers, tossing things onto the ground at random. You doubted he was even really looking for anything in particular. Gator’s priority, above all, was to be a creepy nuisance.

“Gotta be thorough,” he said with a smarmy grin, finally recognizing your presence. “Interfere, and I’m bringing you in for obstruction.” Like the perv he was, he was digging through your panties, grabbing handfuls of lace and cotton. He continued on, throwing things onto the floor just to piss you off. After he’d successfully wrecked one dresser, he moved to the nightstand.

He smiled victoriously and dumped the contents of the drawer onto your bed. Your cheeks flamed with embarrassment at the sight of your modest collection of sex toys, right there for him to see.

“There we are. This goes against the city ordinance prohibiting the ownership of more than two personal pleasure devices,” he said matter-of-factly.

“That’s not a thing,” you argued with a scoff.

He grinned. “Oh, it is. My dad worked to codify an ordinance to fight obscenity. And Jesus Christ, sweetheart, this is obscene.” He surveyed the pile picking up the devices with amusement and a hint of disgust. “Jesus, you’re a fuckin’ fiend by the looks of it. What’s this even do?”

You grabbed at the vibrator in his hand, but he held it up above your head with a grin. “You’re a fuckin’ pervert,” You hissed.

He pressed a button and it buzzed to life, which only made his amusement grow. “You know, if you found yourself a man, you wouldn’t need any of this shit.”

You rolled your eyes at the notion. Half that stuff was collected during your marriage, not that it mattered. Jack was worse in bed than he was at being faithful. You grew to relish in the nights when he was in some other woman’s arms and you could finally find some release.

And you especially relished an opportunity to relax and relieve stress when Gator was hellbent on ruining your fucking life, which was all the time.

You crossed your arms and glared up at him. “That’s a crazy thing for you to say considering you didn’t even bother to get me off.”

He wrinkled his face in annoyance, dropping the vibrator back onto the bed. “What the fuck are you talkin’ about? You came probably, like, three times.”

You could have laughed. “Whatever. Just write the goddamn citation and leave me alone.”

“Maybe I’m concerned about you,” he said with a shrug. “I mean, if you’ve got this many sex toys, that’s some kind of perversion or somethin’. You’re sick in the head. What kind of officer would I be if I punished you for that?”

He grabbed another one off your bed, a rabbit vibrator this time, which only seemed to confuse him more. “Besides, I don’t think you can really afford the fine for breaking this law. I mean, with what you’ve got here, you’re looking at thousands.”

Anger flooded your veins. “Bullshit,” You snapped. “You’re lying.”

“I mean, you can find out tomorrow,” he replied with another stupid fucking shrug. “Or I can forget I ever saw ‘em. Up to you.”

You swallowed hard, already getting a warm, overbearing feeling in the pit of your stomach. Like your body wasn't sure if it wanted to jump his bones or kill him. “And what exactly would make you do that?”

He smiled, showing off his canines. “I mean… now I’m a little curious. Tell me how you use some of ‘em.” He waved the rabbit in his hand. “This one especially. Looks like some kind of fucked up torture device.”

You huffed with annoyance and reached up, grabbing it from his hands. “This one, I mean… this part goes in, and this part stays out.” You explained with vague gestures toward the toy. You grabbed another off the bed. “And this one is, like, just a standard, like, you know. It buzzes. And that one like, kind of thrusts a little bit. I—I don’t know what the fuck else to tell you.” Just seeing him standing there beside the toys made your brain go a little fuzzy with desire and mortification.

He stepped closer, closing the distance between the two of you. “I think I’m more of a visual learner, sweetheart,” he said, his voice low. He reached up, brushing a lock of your hair from your face, and you did your best not to lean into his touch. Why did you want that? “So why dontcha take off your clothes, lay back, and do a little show and tell, huh?”

The moment of hesitation in your brain dissolved in an instant. You wrinkled your face in disgust and shoved him back. “Ugh. Fuck that, and fuck you.”

Anger flashed across his face, only for a moment, before he masked it with his usual shithead attitude. “Oh… I get it,” he said, looking down at you. “Probably on your period with all the attitude you’re givin’ me. Forget it, I don’t even wanna see that nasty shit.”

You narrowly avoided him as he shoved past you, heading back towards the door. The scales of kiss versus kill had firmly tilted towards the latter at his last comment. Anger unlike anything you’d ever felt flooded your veins.

Without thinking, you grabbed a book off of the coffee table in the living room and threw it at him as hard as you could. It collided with the back of his head and he swore loudly.

“You’re fuckin’ crazy!” His hand went to the crown of his head and came back covered in blood. “What the fuck is wrong with you, you stupid bitch?” You grabbed another book and raised a brow in challenge. “Whatever, you’re not even worth it anyway.”

He slammed the door on his way out. The squeal of his tires as he peeled out was music to your ears.

Later, you sighed as you collapsed atop your bed, exhausted from the long process of cleaning up the disaster he’d left in your room. But despite how tired you felt physically, your mind was still racing with thoughts of Gator.

The worst person you’d ever met, who somehow still managed to light every single one of your cells aflame with need. You didn’t want to be with him, obviously. He reminded you of all the worst parts of your ex-husband. And yet… you were staring at the ceiling thinking about the next time you’d see him and all the bitchy things you could get away with saying to him.

With a huff, you reached into your bedside table and grabbed the first vibrator you could get your hands on— simple, without any bells and whistles. Whatever. You were pissed at yourself as you stripped off your pajamas, then your bra… and then your panties.

Stupid fuckin’ man. Your head fell back against your pillows as soon as the vibrator touched your clit, and you couldn’t help the whiny moan that escaped your lips. Your free hand rested on your breast, kneading softly until it wasn’t enough anymore.

Your legs spread wider, hips canting up to seek out more as you began pinching and tugging at your nipples. The plain vibe wasn’t close cutting it, even at its highest setting. All it was good for was working you up to the point of dripping with arousal and needing more.

You clicked it off and sighed, rubbing a hand over your face. Maybe he was right. Maybe you were a little sick in the head. Why else would you be thinking about him right then?

You reached back into the drawer, fumbling blindly until you retrieved the rabbit. It slid in without any resistance with how worked up you were, and you let out a contented sigh at the full feeling.

The second you turned it on, it felt like liquid electricity was dancing through your veins. The external vibrator was positioned just right, so intense that your thighs were trembling.

“Oh, fuck,” you whimpered, back arching slightly. Maybe you could’ve let him watch you. It would’ve taught the asshole what it actually looks like when a woman cums.

You could almost imagine what he’d say too— encouragements veiled with insults. Takin’ it like a fuckin’ slut, aren’t ya? Look right at home on your back like that, spread out all nice and pretty.

You thrust the toy shallowly, eyes rolling back as it brushed against your sweet spot. You could’ve really drawn it out and made an evening of it, but fuck it. You wanted to get off and go to sleep.

You held it just right, so the vibration was focused on your g-spot and clit simultaneously. It was so intense that your moans were pitchy and whiny, hips canting as you got closer and closer.

With a moan more like a sob, you came, the pleasure so intense you had to pull out the toy altogether. As soon as it was out, wetness sprayed from you, making a breathless moan slip past your lips.

Your fingers rubbed at your clit, prolonging the orgasm and making your cunt gush and leave a puddle beneath you on the sheets. When you finally came down, it was with shaky breaths as your body trembled with aftershocks.

You laughed weakly at the ridiculousness of the entire night up until that point, unable to move for a solid few minutes until the fog cleared from your mind and you reached over to turn off the toy. Your legs wobbled as you stood to clean yourself up and change the sheets.

Well, at least if you were going to get arrested for possession of obscene materials, you got the best orgasm of your life out of it. If only you hadn’t been thinking of him the entire time.

——

By noon the following day, you hadn’t received any citation, or been walked out of the diner in handcuffs for your depravity. A quick Google search proved your suspicions that the obscenity ordinance was complete bullshit. Which, you know, made sense considering the sex shop and strip clubs within county lines.

When Gator showed up in his regular booth towards the end of your shift, you did your best to ignore him. One of your coworkers brought him out his artery-clogging usual order, and you were mostly convinced that you might be able to slip out the back without even having to utter a word.

And yet… Outside, Gator was leaning on your car, fucking around with your radio antenna absentmindedly.

“Can I help you, Deputy?” You asked, arms crossed as you squinted against the sun. Your entire body was achy and you just wanted to get home.

He made a vague gesture towards the front bumper. “Headlight’s out.”

You glanced at the front of your car, which was mostly held together by zebra print duct tape and sheer force of will. “Yeah, well, some fuckin’ pervert told me I should save my money to pay for some citation he’s writing up for me.”

Gator grinned. “Oh yeah… I decided to let you off with a warning. For the assault too. My head fuckin’ hurts, you know.” You rolled your eyes, pushing him lightly so you could open your door. “Y’know, you’re being ungrateful. Why don’t you be a good girl and say, ‘Thank you, Gator.’”

You hated the way your heart raced just hearing those words coming from his mouth, but you pushed it down and pulled open the door. “Go fuck yourself, asshole.”

A smug smile spread across his lips. “That’s an interesting choice of words, isn’t it? Bet you had a real good night after I left, didn’t ya?”

He was looking at you like he knew, which he couldn’t have, but he also definitely did. You made a face as you slammed the door shut and flipped him off through the cracked and peeling window tint.

There was one bar in town that was a certified Gator-free zone. Apparently, he’d gotten into a nasty fight there, slammed a guy’s head into a pool table a few times, sent him to the ICU for a week. Most people don’t realize that the actual table part is made of a giant slab of slate, but a lot was learned that day.

You sat at the bar, eyes trained on the photo of Gator on the Do Not Serve bulletin board. He could be kind of handsome when he wanted to. In that picture he looked a little younger, a little more serious. Maybe a little softer if you really wanted to believe it (which you did).

Maybe it was the fact that you had conned the guy beside you into buying you all your drinks (of which there had been plenty) or maybe it was the weird mood you’d been in for the past month, but you really wanted to just wash all of that gel out of his hair and wash his face and maybe buy him a pair of pants with the normal amount of pockets.

“Did you hear what I said?” The guy sitting beside you— Noah? Nathan?— asked.

You tore your gaze from the photo and turned to him, batting your eyes a few times for good measure. “Sorry, I think I’m just a little buzzed.” You smiled flirtatiously and nudged his arm with your own. “You were talking about… a trip to New York, right? Some sort of walking tour?”

He smiled, nodding enthusiastically before continuing, going on and on about things you were mostly half-listening to. He was smarter than most people you talked to, not surprising after you clocked the giant gold college ring on his hand. Mid-conversation, you grabbed his hand in yours and marveled at it, playing up how impressed you were just to make him feel important.

His family is from around here, but he lived in Minneapolis. He was in town visiting while his mom was recovering from surgery. He showed you pictures of the cows on his mom’s land, of the view from his apartment, and of the dog that was waiting for him back at his mom’s place. He was sweet, which made you feel guilty for using him to forget all about Gator.

“Do you want to maybe come back to mine?” You asked, playing at bashfulness. He nodded enthusiastically, looking like you’d just offered him a winning lottery ticket.

In bed, he was generous and eager to please, making sure your needs had been taken care of before his pants were even off. You were so worked up and sensitive that you came twice from his mouth alone, not that he was even particularly that great with it. And then he was inside of you, and you came again, which probably gave him quite the ego.

It had to be some kind of fluke. He was a sweet guy, but he wasn’t exactly a sex god.

But there you were, boneless and panting and flushed and sweaty as you both came down. He was red in the face, fumbling for his glasses so he could really see you.

He wanted to talk and stay up the rest of the night with you, which should’ve been nice. Really, you wanted to be excited. He even tried to ease you into his arms, hold you against him all nice and cozy.

You couldn’t fucking do it.

“I’m just gonna grab some water, alright?” You said before hopping out of bed. Your robe was slung over the back of a papasan chair in the corner. You tied it loosely and made your way out of the bedroom. Needing space, and distance, and god, you didn’t even know.

A sane person would have turned back around, spent time with him, and gotten to know him better. Maybe even wake him up in the morning with coffee and pancakes, or a second round in the shower. But you just wanted to be alone.

The knock on your door shouldn’t have been surprising. You had been pretty loud, even louder than the previous night alone. You tied the robe a little tighter and went for the front door, opening it a crack.

“Look, I’m sorry, I know we were l—“ You trailed off when you caught a glimpse of who was outside. “You’re kidding me.”

Gator stood on the porch, arms crossed and looking irritable. “Got a noise complaint,” he said, glancing between you and the house behind you. “You alone?”

“No,” you replied, crossing your arm. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

He scowled at that, and you recognized the way he was feeling almost immediately. Oh, he was jealous. A tiny laugh escaped you, which only served to piss him off more.

“What’s so fuckin’ funny, huh?”

“Nothin’,” you replied with a shrug. “Is that all, deputy?”

He puffed on his vape and the sickeningly sweet smell of watermelon or cotton candy or whatever the fuck made your stomach turn. You gagged, mouth turning into a frown. “Do you have to blow that shit right in my face?”

“Nope,” he said while repeating the same action. The smell was overwhelming. You could almost feel alarm bells going off inside. “Whatever. Better go on and send your fuck buddy back to whatever hole he crawled out of.”

In the back of your mind, you could hear Gator going on and on, talking about how he bet Noah (how did he know his name?) didn’t even make you cum, and that his dick was small, and he’s probably just some big city loser who comes out here for an easy fuck. But that was in the back of your mind. All you were focused on was the overwhelming smell of sugar as he fucking huffed his vape, and the sinking feeling in your gut.

Nausea clawed up your throat, and a familiar feeling of panic settled over you. You clapped your hand over your mouth, but it was no use. The contents of your stomach spilled onto the floor as you vomited right onto Gator’s boots.

He swore loudly and colorfully, stepping out of the puddle at his feet. You wiped at your mouth weakly, and you would’ve said something like I fucking told you so, but you just felt awful.

“That’s so gross,” was all you could offer. “‘M sorry, Gator.”

And then you were crying your eyes out, and he was walking you inside so you could sit down, and that made you cry more.

“Jesus, you’re moody, huh?” He asked, but the bite in his voice was nearly gone. “Stay here, alright? Before you make an even bigger mess.”

You sniffled and nodded. You saw Noah stepping into the living room, wearing his actual clothes again, which was a relief. You didn’t really want Gator seeing him naked.

“Is everything okay?” He asked, taking a few steps forward.

“I’m fine, I’m just embarrassed,” you said, voice croaky with tears. “I just got sick from the drinking, I think.”

There was a noise from the kitchen and Noah furrowed his brows. “You have a roommate?”

“No, he’s—“ you trailed off, unsure of what to say. “He was here to handle a noise complaint, and I kind of puked on his shoes.”

Gator walked into the room, then paused at the sight of Noah. His face furrowed in blatant judgment. He handed you a sprite, then went straight back to staring at Noah.

“Who’re you?” Gator asked, his arms crossed like a club bouncer.

“I’m Nick.” Oh. Well, at least you were close.

“You should head out, dick,” he said, standing taller, trying to appear more imposing than he really was.

Noah glanced at you and hesitated until you gave a tiny nod. “I had a good time,” you offered. “Sorry about… all of this.”

He scribbled his phone number onto your grocery list by the door, offered a wave, and then headed out, leaving you and Gator alone. For better or worse.

It was quiet as you sipped your sprite, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Are you pregnant?” He asked suddenly. “And don’t fuckin’ lie.”

“What?”

“You’re acting all bipolar, and you're puking over my vape, and your tits look bigger.” You glanced down at your boobs with a frown. They did?

“I’m not pregnant,” you replied defensively. “I got my period, like, right after we fucked.”

He shook his head. “I don’t believe you. You wanna know what I do believe?” You didn’t, but he was going to tell you. “That you pocketed the money for the Plan B, ‘cause you want to get pregnant and blackmail my family.”

You scoffed. “You’re out of your goddamn mind.”

His jaw ticked with annoyance as he looked down at you. “Take a test.”

“Whatever,” you said with a shrug. “I’ll buy one after my shift tomorrow if you’re so fuckin’ worried about it.”

He shook his head. “Fuck that,” he said while tapping away on his phone. “You’ll just lie about it. I’m doordashing this shit.”

You would’ve protested, but what was the point in that? You had nothing to hide— certainly not blackmail. The idea of purposely letting yourself get knocked up by Gator Tillman almost made you want to puke again.

You had finished your Sprite by the time the poor kid arrived, probably seventeen, with his face burning red as he handed Gator a bag from the twenty-four-hour convenience store. Gator slammed the door and dumped the contents of the bag on the coffee table.

Two boxes of pregnancy tests, a monster energy drink, and a pack of cheese bugles.

You grabbed the boxes and trudged towards the bathroom attached to your room while Gator followed close behind. You went to shut the door, but he held it open.

“No fuckin’ way,” he said firmly. “If I leave you’ll just fake it.”

You rolled your eyes, the irritability you felt close to reaching a boiling point. “I’m not pregnant! I don’t want to be pregnant, least of all with your fuckin’ kid!”

When he didn’t move, and, to his credit, stayed completely stoic. You huffed and turned. “If you’re not gonna leave, you can be useful. Hand me one of the little cups beneath the sink. Next to the mouthwash.” He furrowed his brows, but obeyed. “I’m not pissing in front of you.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’ve seen worse.” You closed your eyes, doing your best to ignore him and just pee into the fucking cup. The whole situation was so infuriating that you just wanted to scream. Once your shy bladder got over itself, it was easy enough. Dip the tests in the cup, cap them again, lay them out and try to forget they’re there.

You’d taken plenty over the course of your marriage— and you hoped for the same result then that you did before.

“What’d it say?” Gator asked as you washed your hands. He was squinting down at the tests, trying to discern what was happening.

“It’s not instant. You’ve gotta wait three minutes,” you said. After drying your hands, you looked at him again.

Really looked. He was all fidgety, a little pale. His lip was bleeding where he’d been biting at it. He was just as anxious as you were, but you doubted it was for the reason he was saying.

“You kind of want one, don’t you?” You asked, meeting his gaze.

He scoffed. “No. I hate kids,” the words came out quickly, defensively. He was lying, and he was just as bad at it then as he was every time before. “Besides, what the fuck would I tell my dad if I knocked up a stripper?”

His words should’ve had some bite to them, but he just reminded you of a skittish animal lashing out at anything near it. You leaned against the doorframe and sighed. “You’re pushing thirty, Gator. Who fuckin’ cares what your dad thinks about you?” Gator rolled his eyes, because you just didn’t get it, or whatever. But you knew plenty about outrunning parents and the weight of expectations. About outrunning the weight of not being what they wanted.

You looked at him again, narrowing your eyes. “What do you really want, huh? Outside of making my life hell, terrorizing the town, and making your daddy proud?” You paused, but were met with silence. “If you’d just try to be a decent human being for once, you might find a nice girl who wants to be with you.”

“And that asshole you brought back here and fucked was decent, huh?”

“I think so, yeah,” you replied.

“And you’re gonna see him again? ‘Cause he’s so nice?”

“No, Gator, I’m not gonna see him again,” you said sharply. “I’m not, because he deserves better than a second night with someone who didn’t want to be around him.”

Before he could respond, the timer on your phone went off, louder in the tiled bathroom. Your hands fumbled as you turned it off, heart pounding with nerves.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, just look,” Gator said, clearly annoyed by your hesitance. You watched him flip them over, one by one, all reading the same result.

Positive. Positive. Positive. Positive.

Gator squinted at the lines, then at the back of the box, a few times until it settled in.

“Goddamn it!” He shouted, slamming a hand against the counter. You flinched, but couldn’t bring yourself to react further than that. “I told you to take a fucking Plan B, didn’t I?”

You swallowed hard, doing your best to remain calm. “You did, and I did. Maybe, if you didn’t want to knock me up, you should’ve pulled out like I told you.”

He rolled his eyes. “You know, it probably isn’t even mine,” he said, glaring in your direction. “You let that asshole from the bar cum in you tonight?”

Your cheeks burned hot. “You’re disgusting,” you sneered. “And, no. I don’t make a habit of letting guys fuck me raw.”

He rolled his eyes. “Oh, but you were so willing to give it up for me, huh?” He grabbed your arm, hard for the briefest second before his grip softened. “See, this is why I know you’re tryin’ to fuck my family over.”

You gave an exasperated groan and yanked your arm out of his grasp. “One, you didn’t pull out. Two, how exactly am I gonna blackmail your family if there’s no baby, you fucking idiot?”

His expression softened slightly as he considered your words. His brows furrowed in confusion, as he looked back at the tests. “Those are all positive, that means you’re pregnant.”

You gave a long exhale and met his gaze. “And it’s early enough that I can still have it taken care of. Maybe not in this fuckin’ state, but my car can still make a trip to Minnesota. Probably.”

He processed the words and the implications before shaking his head. “No.”

You raised a brow, taken off-guard by that single word. “I’m sorry?”

He shook his head. “I said no. You’re not doin’ it.”

You scoffed incredulously, blinking away your confusion. “Five seconds ago you wanted to punch through my drywall because you thought you were being blackmailed. Now you suddenly care about the sanctity of life? Give me a break. You nearly beat that guy to death in front of me at the club, and from what I’ve heard, you’ve done worse than that.”

”It’s different,” he argued, annoyed that you called out his hypocrisy. “It’s mine, so I should have some sort of say.”

You swallowed hard, staring at the curtains near the window so you could avoid his eyes. “Exactly. It’s yours. I don’t want to have your baby, Gator. I don’t want to bring another goddamn Tillman into the world.”

He had you pressed against the wall before you even had a second to realize he was moving. Your head knocked against the drywall, making you yelp. One hand was wrapped around your throat, keeping you pinned to the wall with a light amount of force. “I could stop you,” he finally said. “I mean… really stop you. Make it so you can’t leave. Could keep you at the ranch, make sure you don’t do anything stupid.”

But he couldn’t. He couldn’t, because that would mean involving his father. Knocking up a stripper doesn’t exactly give men like his father warm and fuzzy feelings.

When you swallowed, your throat bobbed against the palm of his hand. Your eyes trailed up, landing on his as your breathing came out in pants.

His mouth was on yours suddenly, claiming you with a searing kiss. His tongue forced its way into your mouth, making you moan.

He’d never kissed you before, not once. You hadn’t even thought he’d want to. But there he was, groaning into your mouth as he made out with you.

“Gator—“ you gasped as he ground against you, already rock hard without any real coaxing. He shut you up with another kiss, hungry and messy.

You got the message— no more talking about that. He pulled the tie of the robe you wore and it fell onto the ground in a pile, leaving you completely bare.

He pulled back from the kiss, eyes raking over your body hungrily. Big hands traced over your skin, making you shiver. A gasp escaped you as he squeezed your tits.

“They really are bigger,” he said with a wry laugh.

“Shut up,” you snapped, head knocking against the wall as you tossed it back.

“You’ve got a bad fuckin’ attitude. But I can fix that.” One of his hands moved down your body, cupping your cunt, fingers dipping into the pool of your arousal. “You get this soaked for that asshole?”

You whimpered as his fingertips teased your entrance, just shy of everywhere you needed him. Just shy of slipping inside, purposely avoiding your clit. He locked eyes with you, his gaze intense.

“Don’t be shy, you can tell the truth,” he said, continuing to tease with featherlight touches. You could feel just how wet you were getting— dripping embarrassingly down your thighs.

“Only ‘cause I thought about you,” you admitted. A sly grin spread across your face. You’d never let him have an easy win. “You’d probably be one of the best fucks I ever had if you bothered to make me cum.”

“Don’t fuckin’ piss me off,” he said with an eye roll. He thrust his middle finger inside of you, and you moaned softly. “Such a goddamn liar.”

He was a little more gentle with you, despite, well, everything. Warming you up with one finger before adding a second. Moans fell from your lips as he curled them just right, the cocky expression he wore told you he was dead set on proving that he really was top-ten material.

His thumb brushed against your clit, making your legs tremble. You couldn’t help but clench around his fingers, your entire body overwhelmed with need. Maybe it was hormones, or maybe it was all the tension between you, but your entire body was aching for him.

“Close,” you gasped out. Your open, panting mouth was like an invitation. He kissed you deeply, his tongue licking into your mouth as he continued fucking you with his fingers. When he pulled back, his eyes locked with yours.

“That’s it,” he practically cooed. “C’mon, give it to me.” You moaned, walls clenching around his fingers as you grew closer and closer to the edge. He tried to pull his hand from between your thighs, but you grabbed his wrist and shook your head.

“Gator, don’t fuckin’ stop until I tell you to.” His cheeks went pink, eyes flashing with something unfamiliar.

Your moans grew pitchy as you got closer, hips canting against his fingers, shoulders digging into the wall as your back arched off of it.

You barely had time to gasp out a feeble, “‘m cumming!” Before your climax hit.

Broken moans escaped you as pleasure radiated through you. His fingers kept their pace, and every brush of his thumb on your clit made spots dance across your vision. When you were finally spent, you had to tap his wrist weakly. “Okay, that’s enough,” you managed.

He was coated down to his wrist with sticky arousal, which made you look away with heat burning in your cheeks, chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath.

He grabbed your jaw and turned your face back to look at him, wearing a smug expression. “Don’t act all shy now. Tell me you want more.” Bold of him to assume he could make you cum again. But you nodded anyway. You’d like to see him try, at least.

“I want more,” you said, even though it killed you to just give in so easily. His thumb brushed against your bottom lip, before he pressed a little more and breached the pouty seal of your lips.

“Yeah? Your friend didn’t wear you out before this?” He asked, his voice dripping with a false sense of concern. He pushed his thumb a little deeper, pressing down on your tongue while you sucked on it. You had a pretty good sense of what he was getting at, but a hot need was bubbling up in your stomach and you couldn’t deny yourself any longer. “I’m just saying, sweetheart. Takin’ two cocks in one night is… well, it’s pretty fuckin’ slutty.”

At his words, you bit down on his thumb until he withdrew it with an annoyed huff. “You wanna leave?” You asked, raising a brow. He shook his head. You stepped around him, settling in the middle of the bed. “Take your clothes off then.”

He was quick to undress, clumsy in his haste. His vest knocked against the wall and sent a picture frame tumbling off its hook. He stripped off piece after piece in a sort of never-ending Russian doll until he was finally naked and standing there waiting for you to compliment him, or something.

You took in the sight of him hungrily, and the hormonal neediness of it all made you want him more than you had before. “You’ll do,” was all you said, smirking as he pinned you down against the mattress.

“You’re such a bitch,” he said, but there wasn’t any real malice in his tone. Actually, you were pretty sure he liked it about you. You spread your legs to accommodate him, shivering as he rocked his hips just so and let the head of his cock brush against your folds. “But you want me so bad, huh? Just need me to fuck that attitude out of you, don’t you?”

You whimpered when he pressed himself against your center, only letting the tip slip inside briefly before pulling back out. He raised a brow, wanting to hear you beg.

”Gator, if you don’t get inside me, I’ll call Nick to finish the job.”

You would have laughed at how quickly he buried himself within you after that if the force of it hadn’t punched the air from your lungs. His pace was brutal, and the sound of his hips slapping against the plush of your thighs with each rough thrust made sheepishness settle warm in your chest.

“You act like— fuck— like you don’t want me, but I don’t think this pussy got that memo.” A smirk played at his lips as he railed into you, soft grunts punctuating each thrust in. You wrapped your legs around him, pressing with your heels to encourage him deeper.

He was such a self-assured asshole, but, fuck, if that didn’t turn you on. He had one of your hands pinned to the bed, fingers tangled with yours.

“Go ahead and touch yourself,” Gator instructed.

He didn’t have to tell you twice. As soon as the words passed his lips, you moved your free hand between your thighs to circle your clit. The feeling was damn near euphoric. Breathy moans fell from your lips as your head fell back against the pillows.

And Gator was fucking eating it up.

“That feel good, huh?” His voice was breathy; his words were punctuated with moans and fucked-out pants. “Squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight, sweetheart. You’re really lovin’ this, huh? Bet you wanna be stuffed full of this cock every day. Coulda had this again a lot sooner if ya weren’t such a bitch all of the time.”

You could feel yourself reaching your finish, but you couldn’t find the words to tell him. Each moan slipping past your lips was even more debauched than the last as he buried himself inside your needy cunt.

“It’s too much, huh?” He asked, fucking you with a relentless need to cum. With each thrust his cock kissed your cervix. “You can take it, can’t you? Made just to take this cock inside your needy little pussy.”

Your eyes rolled back as your walls clamped around him, your finish so close you could have sobbed with relief. You came with a cry of his name, which would have been mortifying, had you been in a mindset to retain your pride.

“F-Fuck—“ He cried out, his hips stuttering. “Holy fuckin’ shit— gonna cum— fuck—“ He buried himself in you with one final, rough thrust before he went still, collapsing atop you with his full body weight.

He laid there, panting hot breath against your neck until he came back to his senses. He gave one final wet kiss to your throat before rolling over with a pleased sigh.

“You finally know what it feels like,” you mused, staring up at the ceiling.

Gator furrowed his brows as he turned to look at you. “I’ve fucked you before, it’s nothin’ special this time.”

Gee, thanks. “I meant you finally know what it feels like for a girl to cum while you’re inside her.” You grinned as you watched annoyance twist his features. He rolled his eyes with a huff, but didn’t seem too pissed off at your jab.

It was contentedly quiet until you remembered the pregnancy tests sitting on the counter just one room over. Your stomach twisted with guilt as you looked over at him, his hair a little messy, cheeks flushed from exertion.

It would’ve been nice if things were different.

“I’m moving,” you said finally. “Back to Texas, I think. Maybe even somewhere new. As soon as I’ve saved enough for a down payment.”

Gator turned quickly, anger making his brows furrow. “Leaving?”

You swallowed hard. “I’m getting out of Lehigh, and I think you should too. This place is poison. You know that.”

You watched him swallow, jaw ticking as he stayed quiet. You let the quiet linger in the air, nearly choking on it before he finally spoke. “This is where I belong.”

You nodded and said nothing else. When you woke up in the morning, his arms were around you, and he was drooling into the junction of your shoulder. His hand, flat on your tummy, almost made you yearn for that picture-perfect Tillman family, the one he thought he wanted so badly.

You couldn’t bring yourself to wake him up. When he left, he didn’t say a thing. It felt definite.

#hiiiiiii <3 #gator tillman x reader #gator tillman fanfic #gator tillman smut #okay that's all enjoy <3

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sunlightmurdock · 11 months

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Like This Forever | 0.1 | J. Seresin

masterlist | next chapter

You’re thinking of the past, right as the future is about to change forever.

Warnings: accidental pregnancy, childhood friends to lovers, country singer!Jake, smut, pining, blissful ignorance, other warnings to follow. wc: 3k (18+ minors do not interact)

A U G U S T 1 9 7 4 / F E B R U A R Y 1 9 9 1

Driftwood — small town southwestern Texas, situated in Lockheart County. Springs, stony hills, and steep canyons. It’s good land, occupying a tiny patch of earth in the middle of the Edwards Plateu. That’s what they all say: good land, good soil. Large acreages of wheat for miles around, grown annually for harvest and winter through spring livestock grazing. The remaining two-thirds of the region is rangeland devoted to cattle ranching. Ranches in this region often seem older than the landscape itself. Lockheart County’s livestock industry is nationally appreciated, it was, even back then. Ranches here are huge, they’ve been there for generations. The town of Driftwood, itself, sits in a valley. It holds on to the people who settle there just like it holds onto the weight of that thick, summer heat all through the day. So hot that even the trees bend and furl like they’re seeking shade too.

Back then, Driftwood was even smaller than it is now. Post Office, Church, two schools, a fleet of locally owned stores on Main Street and a few other buildings for the fathers who weren’t ranchers or ranch hands to work.

On that day in early August, most of Driftwood’s thousand person population were nestled amongst the pews of St. Augustine’s Church, just outside of town. It’s a mile and a half from Main Street, and a mile and a half from the furthest fence on the Seresin Ranch. Their house is a sprawling thing that Bill’s grandfather had built — they haven’t got that kind of money now, and they didn’t on that morning in August. They’ve got three boys, who were squirming around the front pew, melting into the aged wood below them in their smart white button ups. They’ve got another boy too, standing behind Pastor James, holding a processional candle.

Jake’s their youngest. He was nine back then. Small for his age, especially when you stood him next to his brothers and their broad shoulders and long legs. His hair was beyond blond, lightened from the sun. His cheeks dusted with brown freckles and his eyes always narrowed into a type of John Wayne kind of squint. Jake loved John Wayne back then. He loved the cowboys on his bed sheets, and the fact he could see the cattle from his bedroom window. All he wanted back then was a pistol on his hip and a one-way ticket to El Dorado.

Mary-Lynn Seresin grew up in Driftwood, just like her husband had. She had known Bill since she was a little girl, and she had always known that she would marry him one day. Her nails were polished pink that day, sitting pretty atop the procession card as she fans herself with it. Two pews behind, you could still see a droplet of sweat bead from her neat blonde hairline and trail into the collar of her blue polka-dotted Sunday dress.

On that particular Sunday, the fans had packed up and stopped working. So, all six hundred of you who could make it out to St. Augustine’s we’re trapped in there — not just with Pastor James’ storytelling, but with the thick heat pressing down on the entire valley feeling like it had all been shut in this one room with the rest of you.

At the front, Jake Seresin’s cheeks were red, his hair was beading with sweat and his scarecrow, twig-like arms were trembling around the cross. He struggled with its weight and you had watched his green eyes flash out towards the crowd, briefly landing on his mother. Mary-Lynn gave him a proud nod. Bill was staring at the stagnant ceiling fans above their heads. You, were staring right at Jake.

Eight years old yourself, just eight weeks younger than Jake is, you have known that little grass-stain your entire life. In fact, Mary-Lynn and your mother found out that they were expecting just days apart. They had been in the same high school grade as girls, had married men who were good friends, and back then your mother had worked in the town’s hair salon five days a week. They grew very close through their pregnancies. Your mother was the first one to send flowers when Mary-Lynn went into labour a month and a half early.

Jake’s John-Wayne-Squint deepened through the heavy air, watching you like you were both about to draw pistols and settle this like men — right in the middle of Pastor James’ final verse. Your pigtails and your white Sunday dress weren’t fooling him. His robes and the heavy cross in his hand weren’t fooling you. Clearly following his brother’s gaze, Daniel Seresin turns and peers at you over his shoulder. He’s the closest in age to Jake, but he’s still five years older. Thirteen then and too grown up for childish squabbles like those, he just turned back to the front and shook his head.

The first three of the Seresin boys were all born within three consecutive years. Matthew, Noah and Daniel. They’re each tall like their mother, blonde like her too, and have inherited their father’s linebacker shoulders. Noah was fourteen and about to be a freshman in high school. After he fixed the chain on your bike at the beginning of summer, you were full-blown head-over-heels in love with him back then. You thought you were anyway.

Jake, however, had been in your class since Kindergarten and you had been forced to share your toys with him for even longer than that.

His arms trembled before you and your mouth had twitched. Neither one of you was listening to the service. It was almost over. Just a few more minutes until Pastor James wrapped up and the people of Driftwood and poured out of this sauna and out into the dry, morning sun.

Quickly, you shot a look at your mother sitting at your side. She was listening intently, staring right ahead with her neatly steamed clothes and her hair-sprayed hair. You’ll always remember the heavy smell of her rose-scented perfume. Every time you inhale it, you’re sitting at the foot of her bed, watching her fix her face in her vanity. Then, you looked to your father on the other side of you. Exactly the same. Pleased, you turn your attention back to the youngest Seresin boy.

Scrunching your nose, you had sat forwards just slightly and stuck your tongue out at him. Quite the diss back then. Jake’s green eyes had widened, sweat beading down his back under his white shirt and his service robes.

Driftwood is a safe place. It’s a fantastic town to raise children. The schools aren’t overcrowded and cars don’t speed through the centre of town. Country roads are a different story. But no one bats an eyelid, especially not back then, when their children are out of sight.

Mary-Lynn was busily detailing the events of her dinner party that coming Saturday to a group of women that are invited. She’s quite the hostess still. Your mother stood amongst them. Neither one of them were concerned about where their children were in the slightest. Until, that is, the sounds of muffled screaming filled their ears. The mothers of Driftwood rush to the commotion in their kitten heels and pretty dresses. Your mother was the first around the corner. She would recognise the sound of her baby’s screaming anywhere. But you weren’t the one in trouble. As usual, you had been causing it.

Your white dress grass-stained and muddy, dirt under your fingernails and covering your formerly white, frilled socks. You were kneeling. You haven’t yet noticed the crowd of women rushing in your direction. You’ve got Mary-Lynn Seresin’s youngest son pressed into the dirt, kneeling on his back and twisting his arm uncomfortably behind him.

“Say Uncle!” You demanded.

“You’re so dead! Get off!” Jake struggled under you, screaming with all the force that his growing lungs would allow. His voice must have been audible across the entire valley with how he was hollering. Freckled cheek pressed into the dirt, his white shirt was destroyed and he was in the middle of ruining his shoes with how he was scrambling for purchase in the dried dirt.

Quickly, your mother had grabbed you under your arms and hauled you off of the boy, spinning you to face her.

“What do you think you’re doing young lady?”

“He started it! — He said my dress was ugly!”

“It is ugly, you look like a girl!” Jake huffed from behind you as he had stumbled onto his feet and taken a look down at his church clothes. Slowly, he had lifted his gaze to look at his mother. Sullen and worried looking, he began to pout. It wasn’t working. Mary-Lynn had raised three boys by then, she knew when they were trying to play innocent.

The thing about growing up so close together, is that approaching double digits was a confusing time. It was around that age that your mother began to put her foot down when it came to all of those tom-boy activities. Girls might roughhouse and come home with holes in their jeans and mud on their faces, but young ladies didn’t. The dress was her idea.

Jake’s comment had been passing, just a whisper as his family had headed into church ahead of yours, but he was right — you did look like a girl. Back then, that wasn’t a compliment coming from him. So, you had cornered him outside and pummeled him into the dirt. Fair is fair.

“Mary-Lynn, I am so sorry about her — send me the dry-cleaning bill. I’m sorry, we should go.” Your mother had sighed in a hurry, frowning down at your ruined clothes, then looking towards Jake’s. You’ll always remember the smile on Mary-Lynn’s face after. Not pity, because she knew you were in a lot of trouble for this. Just fondness. She had gently patted your mother’s forearm and shaken her head.

“Let’s finish our chat. They’re already filthy. Let them play.”

Looking up at her, you hadn’t understood why she was siding with you back then. You had just almost broken her son’s arm for sport. As you grew, Mary-Lynn Seresin was always on your side. In her kitten heels and dresses, she remembered being a dirt-covered little girl once too. No one was telling her son that it was time yet, to be a man. There’s no harm in letting you be young a little longer.

Your mother had looked uncertain, but people in Driftwood always looked to Mary-Lynn for advice. She had somehow managed to keep four boys in line perfectly, her parenting expertise was studied by those around her. Finally, she had given you a brief nod.

You remember spinning on the delicate almost-heel of your church shoes, rounding on Jake, ready to brawl. You have no clue where the stick came from, but he was armed when you had turned around — but Jake always fought fair. He tossed you a stick of your own and took aim. Green eyes narrowed, he was trying to look down his freckled nose at you, but you were taller then.

“She’s gonna marry that boy someday.” Mary-Lynn Seresin had huffed with a wistful smile, watching the mud-caked children tear off through the field once again. This time, with sticks in hands and violent intent plastered across their dirty faces.

You’re not eight anymore. Jake’s not nine. This time of the year, you both happen to be twenty-six. You aren’t trying to kill him with a stick anymore either. You’re sitting at your favourite bar in Driftwood — there are four now — watching your best friend up on stage. He’s always confident. He has been since he hit that growth spurt when he was twelve. Since then, Jake has been unstoppable. But on stage is when he really shines.

The Dark Star feels like an old bar. It’s packed every Friday night. It smells like malt and smoke and Jake’s been playing here every Saturday since he was seventeen. This is the last time that it will ever be like this, and you don’t even know it yet. Jake’s in the middle of an original. People around here know him, they know his music. They might not get all the words right, but he always gets people singing.

Jake isn’t small for his age now. He grew into his nose, and he inherited those big shoulders, his skin’s tanned from his days out at the ranch. He’s strong and funny and kind. Sometimes it catches you off guard, when you turn your head and find a man in place of the little boy you once knew.

You’re in a booth, talking numbers. It turns out that you had inherited your mother’s knack for business strategy, and Jake’s way with words had rubbed off on you long ago.

You don’t look like the little girl Jake had once known either. If he was concerned about you looking like a girl before, then you can only imagine how dismayed he must be when he looks at you now. Breasts and everything.

“It’s more than potential, Stu — you saw how crazy people were for him when he was opening for The Ashford Band.” You tell him, fingers curled around a brown glass bottle. This is already settled, the deal is already done. You knew from the second that he walked in that you had Stu Adler suckered.

This is a deal that you’ve been mulling over for a couple of months now. Getting Jake on his first headline tour. His debut album came out last week and it’s doing well, but the record label is tiny and the publicity deal is even smaller. Jake’s making pennies compared to other people in his genre, but you’re about to change all of that.

“Six months is a long time on the road. It’s a different lifestyle,” Stu’s dishwater grey eyes flicker briefly up from the plunging neckline of your top to meet your gaze. He’s an older man, with a once successful career in Los Angeles. Now, he spends his time scrounging small towns for talent. He’s just a stepping stone in your plans for Jake. “You’re sure he can handle it?”

Stretching your legs out, you scoff incredulously at the accusation as Jake’s last song dwindles behind you. The beer bottle is cool against your lips. Stu swallows, watching your lips purse around the rim to drink. You know he’d die for the chance to get his wrinkly, old dick in your mouth — it’s why Jake’s about to get the best deal of his life.

“Jake? — Of course.”

“Can you?” Stu asks. The light on you for once makes you cringe. Even so, your poker face doesn’t falter. Calmly staring across the table at him, a small smile on your face. “Y’know, he’s going to need a manager that I can rely on. I.e. — one that he won’t dump, sweetheart.”

This only makes your smile grow. “Jake is like a brother to me. You don’t have to worry about a thing.”

It’s that lie that secures the deal. Six months, a hundred and sixty dates across the US. Mostly small venues, but it’s his first headline tour — and it’s all because of you. Because of that one little white lie. Letting Stu think that he’s got a chance with you. Letting him think that you’ve never fucked Jake.

You have. Twice, already by this point. Once, after senior prom. Your date was an asshole and his was cruel. You’d parked his truck out in the west pasture of the Seresin ranch and got a little too drunk under the stars, and wound up with your legs hiked up over his shoulders. The second time was Thanksgiving two years ago. Your family joined his. All of his brothers have fiancés or wives now. Sharing Jake’s bed in his childhood home that night, neither one of you was drunk. You were just lonely, and maybe bored.

Tonight, there are a couple of different factors at play. Sure, by the time that you and Jake collapse down onto that red, velvet couch in the Dark Star’s ‘dressing room’, you’ve had plenty to drink. You’re not quite as lonely as you were that thanksgiving, though.

You turn your head and he’s grinning at the ceiling, chest heaving from the energetic final song. His arms stretch along the backs of the couch, his eyes closed for a moment. You watch him silently.

“You’re incredible.” Jake’s half-cut on an unhealthy mix of tequila and vodka, but smiling, eyes still shut, chin still pointed towards the sky. He gives his head a small shake. “A hundred and sixty dates.”

A smile plasters itself across your lips. As drunk as you are, it’s nice to be complimented for your hard work. “Yeah, we’ll see if you still think I’m so incredible when you’re living off of burgers and beer and still have eighty shows to go.”

The smell of cigarettes lives within the fibre of this room. Part of the furniture, nestled amongst the cracks in the red painted walls. There’s the couch that you’re sitting on, and an illuminated vanity against the far wall, and then a coat stand. It’s not much of a dressing room, but it’s fine.

You just wish it would stop spinning.

“I mean it.” His fingers rest atop your denim clad thigh, patting platonically. You hear him sigh from beside you. He squeezes at the supple skin under his hand. “Thank you.”

“Jake… since when do you have manners?” You ask him. Both of you are sitting with your eyes shut on this old, probably dirty, velvet couch. It’s five in the morning. The two of you might have gone a little overboard with celebrating. Wayne Mayhew, the owner of the Dark Star might have threatened to kick you both out of his bar if you didn’t finally get off of his damn stage ten minutes ago.

But there’s a high buzzing between the two of you that feels electric. Wordlessly, you know Jake feels it too. That this is the last night. Here, in this shitty hometown bar. Everything is about to change. After this tour, nothing will ever be the same again — for either of you.

Jake’s thumb trails back and forth in just one small pattern, reminding you that it’s there on your thigh.

It’s been on your mind all day, for no reason at all. That Sunday in August in 1974. Your ruined church dress and the fat bruise on Jake’s cheek the next day when you had seen him at the market. The start of it all.

Those late night drives and all the evenings you studied together. Jake’s football games and his band practices — back when he had thought he wanted to be in a band. Him drying your tears and making you laugh. Growing up together, talking for hours and hours about all of the possibilities. This was everything Jake had ever wanted, and he’s thanking you.

Your eyelids weigh double what they normally do — heavy as you blink open your eyes and turn your head. This time, he’s looking across at you. The tips of his fingers brush the inseam of your blue, low-rise jeans. His face is calm, he isn’t saying anything and he’s far from doing anything either.

Scrunching your nose, you poke your tongue out at him. Across the couch, Jake lifts his brows. The corner of his mouth twitches. He’s got stubble now. Stubble, and chest hair and an Adam’s apple. But that look, that glint in his eye that’s just daring you to try him has always been the same.

Jake’s fingers twitch, pressing into the soft flesh of your inner thigh. Dim lighting, fifteen year old red paint on each of the four walls, and that perpetual cigarette smell — it’s hardly a romantic fantasy. And this is far from a good idea.

But it’s Jake. Confident, loud Jake who gets shy when he’s around someone he really likes. Funny, smart-mouthed Jake who under it all is a great listener. Goofy, habitual Jake who has the nighttime routines of a fifty year old housewife.

Strong-willed, handsome, Jake, your best friend — who’s looking at you like you’re his next meal.

…

@fia-thefirst @daggerspare-standingby @dempy @v0id-chaos @moonlight-addisyn @grxcisxhy-wp @shakespeareanwannabe @coconut152 @330bpm-whiplash @takemetooneverlanddd @princess76179 @loveofvernonslife @averyhotchner @trickphotography2 @sushiwriterhere @the-romanian-is-bae @atarmychick007 @talktomegooseman @xoxabs88xox @thedroneranger @roostersforevergirl @buckysdollforlife @abaker74 @blackwidownat2814 @kmc1989 @whatislovevavy @lonelywriter10 @s-u-t @topguncortez @callsign-joyride @rosedurin @86laura11 @theenorthstar @mygyn @growup-thatbeautiful @percysaidnever @katiedid-3 @its-the-pilot

#jake smut #Jake Seresin #Jake Seresin x reader #Jake Seresin x you #jake seresin x y/n #Jake Seresin fic #jake seresin #Glen powell #Jake hangman Seresin #top gun: maverick

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einvoicesoftware · 2 years

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Reliable & Complete E-Invoicing Solution

Electronic invoicing or GST e invoicing software in India is a method for creating invoices and it enables the invoices created through one software program that is accessible by the other software, it has also reduced the need for further data entry and the labor-intensive manual process.

It is an invoice that has been produced using a single standard format so that others can share the electronic data or ensures information consistency.

E-invoicing software provides a reliable and complete invoicing solution, it provides the features for generation, tracking, or managing the invoices.

Unibill App is an GST e invoicing software in India that helps in generating the E invoices in a single click, also it automatically prints IRN or invoice reference number and QR code with the invoicing software.

It is certified software which means your invoices can be directly uploaded to the IRP portal to generate the E invoices seamlessly.

There are so many benefits of the Unibill App, the best GST e-invoicing software as it reduces the reporting of the same invoice details multiple times, it helps in real-time tracking of invoices, confirms the ITC eligibility, it prevents errors and fraud, it saves time and effort to file returns or it helps in reducing the reporting of same invoice details in multiple times.

There are some key factors to be considered while choosing a GST E-invoicing software like whether it can generate bulk E-way Bill invoices seamlessly whether it can generate E-way Bills along with E invoices as applicable or whether it has the flexibility to use the offline mode to generate the E invoices that deals in possible network issues.

Electronic invoicing is a system in which all B2B invoices are uploaded electronically and then authenticated by the designated portal.

Post authentication, a unique invoice reference number is generated along with the QR code and that needs to be printed on the invoice.

Electronic invoices apply to all the businesses that are registered under GST and those that issue B2B invoices in a phased manner as notified by the central government.

Therefore there are many benefits of E-invoicing, first, it can curb tax evasion and with this the chances of editing invoices are low.

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ceasarslegion · 3 months

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Now that I'm on a 5 hour train ride before my airport run I can outline a few thoughts about America I've had over the last week:

-everything is so big. Like canada far beats you guys in regards to raw land mass but there's like 12 of us up there. You guys really minmaxed how much you can fit into one place. Meanwhile you leave an urban center in canada and it's just nothing for the next half hour upon which you hit a gas station warning that the next ones not gonna be for another 2 hours so fill up now

-Ive seen more Amish people in my like 4 days in upstate NY than I have in my entire life before now

-ive also seen more confederate, trump, and general American flags in the last 4 days upstate than in my entire life before now. NYC was not that bad. Are you guys okay down here

-why do you have war vets advertised on street lamps

-why do you put your flag on EVERYTHING... im pretty sure there's a part of your constitution that says you're not supposed to do that lmao??

-i bought a big gulp with my last few USD bills yesterday. It gave me a nuclear level tummy ache but the hubris of having that much pop for 2 dollars made it worth it. I get the appeal of Big Drink now

-I was asked how I want my burger cooked when I went for a good ol' american cheeseburger. You guys are just raw dogging rare ground beef here like e coli can't touch you. There was a burger that had mozzarella sticks on it on the menu. Your frankensteinian approach to food captivates me

-i hate how you have 1 dollar bills here. That's wrong to me. 5 is the proper place for bills to start. To me. But the CAD to USD exchange rate is HEAVILY weighted in your favour so it's whatever I guess. Your grocery prices make me want to scream, cry, and throw up in that order. Canada's not much better but at least the prices have the same number on them in a comparatively worthless currency

-there is something so capitalist about this country. Every second of my day I am being blasted with ads from every flat surface. At least we don't have ad screens in our taxis???

-I bought an Arizona tea flavour we don't have in canada and upon glancing at the nutrition label it had 84% of my daily sugar intake in it. If that's what your convenience store iced tea is like I think whatever sweet tea is would just kill me

-I think the guns in Walmart are perhaps contributing to the way the tankies on this webbed site think guns are cool and not dangerous at all. My god I was uneasy seeing that shit

-i got a big box of american sugar cereal that we dont have in canada and they can pry it from my cold dead hands at the airport I'm qualified to work our TSA checkpoint and I know damn well it's allowed to go in the case of personal consumption this shit fucks so goddamn hard

#ramblings

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kittenintheden · 8 months

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Professionals

*boops fingers together and bats eyes @ u*

Rating: E Word Count: 1,650 Content: 18+, roleplay, sex work, biting, blood kink, oral sex, PIV sex

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Sharess' Caress is busy tonight. A woman stands near the bar, perusing the evening's johns and janes, giving them mental scores based on personality, appearance, and style. She sips her drink, eyes lidded, and turns away a four, then a six, then a seven. She can afford to be picky.

She's making smalltalk with the barkeep when she feels light fingers brush the back of her arms. She sighs and plasters on a smile, expecting another modest offering, but she's met with a full-stop ten. In looks and style, at least. If the personality matches...

"Hello, lovely thing," he purrs, his voice sending a tingle up her spine. "Don't you look delicious. I'm called Astarion. And you are?"

"Very interested in what someone like you is doing in a place like this," she says playfully, lifting her glass to her lips for a sip. The liquor inside stings just right. "But you may call me Lily."

He grins, seductive and predatory, and places a satchel of gold on the bar. "Five hundred gold says I can call you whatever I like, I think. I’ll be honest. I’m a connoisseur, and there are occasions when I’d like to partake in… top-shelf talent. I believe you fit the bill, if my instincts are correct. And they usually are." He tilts his head to the side, daring her to say no.

She gives him a hard look up and down, finally meeting his ruby eyes. She sets her glass on the bar and uses two fingers to nudge the coin purse toward the barkeep. "We've a high-rolling customer," she says to them. They give her a knowing smirk, look over the john, then accept the bag.

"The Chartreuse Room is free," the barkeep says, going back to their mixing.

"After you," Astarion says, gesturing to her to take the lead. She does. As they ascend the stairs, he ghosts his fingers against her lower back. Gentlemanly, one might think, if one’s unfamiliar with the different ways people touch. She is not unfamiliar.

The Chartreuse Room is, predictably, quite green. Bottles of liquor line a shelf on the nearest wall beside a small bar. Lily walks around, trailing her fingertips over the polished wood and leans onto the surface, letting her cleavage rise up enticingly over the top of her corset as she gives him a coy look.

"Could I make you a drink?" she says. She reaches out and teases the neck of the nearest bottle suggestively.

Astarion moves toward her, already undoing the buttons of his beautifully embroidered jacket. He smiles, showing off too-sharp canines. "I didn't come here for a drink, pet. Not of that, anyway."

She shrugs. "Thought I'd offer, nonetheless." She pushes off the bar and approaches, letting her shoulders rustle the strings of glass beads hanging from the ceiling so they tinkle together. She stops in front of him, admiring his bare chest before raising her gaze to his face.

"And what would you like?" she says lowly.

He shrugs off his jacket and undercoat. "Honestly? I'd like to bite. Hard enough to break skin." As he speaks, his timbre drops seductively. Almost like he’s trying to seduce her.

Cheeky man. Cheeky man with expensive taste. She can work with that.

She cocks an eyebrow at him. "Well. That's not one I get often. But, for such a generous patron, I'll allow it."

"Good," he says. Then he's on her, fast as lightning, a hand on one side of her neck and his sharp teeth piercing through the opposite, a jolt of cold radiating through her nervous system. She gasps and grips onto him, surprised, but in seconds she's relaxing into it, eyes going half-lidded as pleasant numbness spreads. Before she goes weak in the knees from blood loss instead of lust, he pulls away, licking her off his teeth.

Blood play. Unusual, but not her first time.

"You are... fantastic," he breathes, dropping his chin and looking at her from under his brows like he wants to consume her another way. "Now... on the bed, on your stomach."

"Yes, saer," she says, swaying on her feet a moment before walking toward the low, round bed, covered in cushions of varying shades of green. She takes her time, lowering herself to all fours and stretching forward like a cat, her back in a deep arch with her arse in the air before she brings it down. Once she's in place, she hears the beads tinkle as he comes closer, then feels the weight of him on the mattress as he puts his knees on either side of her legs.

He leans down over her, not quite touching, and puts his mouth to her ear. "Call me darling," he says. “And I’ll call you whatever strikes me.” Then she feels his fingers at the sides of her hips, undoing the laces keeping her shorts on her body.

"Anything you like if you keep doing that, darling," she says.

He disrobes her from the waist down, pulling every article of clothing from her with aching slowness. Lily bites her lip, desperate to turn and see his pretty face again, but he paid his fee and he's calling the shots. She feels his weight shift lower, his dexterous hands spreading her open and angling her hips, and then she feels his tongue run along her. Instantly, she arches her back with a groan.

"I think that's supposed to be my job," she gasps, pressing her face to the silken sheets and biting her lip as he continues to work her like an expert. "I feel like I should be paying you. Darling."

He chuckles against her most tender of places, giving her another long draw from behind. "Hush. Let me enjoy my night."

She’s certainly not going to argue. A john who gives back? What a rare treat this is.

His hands draw her closer until he's drowning in her, until he shouldn't be able to breathe, and he lavishes her in a way she knows no other customer down below would ever. As her pleasure builds, she squirms against the mattress and he puts a firm palm on her lower back to hold her still, humming every now and again, the sensation making her shiver and cry out.

"Darling," she pants. "Darling, darling, darling."

Finally, she can tell his collected exterior is beginning to crack. At every cry of the pet name, he goes a touch sloppy. As her peak comes closer, he begins to murmur and pant against her as if sensing her heightened arousal, as if it drives him mad. Finally, she screams into the sheets as she comes harder than she has in recent memory, his mouth relentless until she can barely stand it. She doesn’t even have to act. Not a bit.

Astarion rolls her over, his chest heaving and his chin covered in her slick, and crawls over top.

Her head lolls as she gazes up at him in adoration. "What now, darling?" she whispers.

He goes up on his knees to undo his own laces, his arousal clear and present against the material of his fine trousers. He keeps his eyes on her.

"Now I make love to you like you're the only person who matters, Tav," he says, voice like gravel, and she melts clear into the bed. Whoever Tav is, they must be very lucky, indeed.

He's naked and beautiful, lowering himself over her, kissing her deeply. She accepts, circling his tongue with hers, tasting her cunt and her blood and her passion on him. One by one, he unhooks the buttons keeping her corset on her body and tosses it aside.

Briefly, she wonders how she ever managed to score this big. His hand, cooler than it should be, palms her breast firmly and then he's inside her and she moans like a wanton… well, whore.

Astarion kisses her neck, gentle on her sore spot, and sighs out his own pleasure. "You are perfect," he says. "The only one in the entire place I could ever... oh, you make me lose my mind. Tav. Tav."

She wraps her legs high on his waist, seeking better connection, and he angles himself to draw over the place near her entrance, the one that lights her up, and she clings to him like he's life itself. The range of motion in his hips is absolutely maddening in the very best way. He’s fucking her better than anyone else ever could and she uses every single technique in her book to give it back to him.

They rock and thrust against each other. He kisses her. She kisses back. They climb, and climb, and climb together, reaching for the sky.

Toward the end, his facade fully breaks to pieces and he sobs tiny breaths into her ear.

"Darling," she gasps. "Love me, darling."

"I love you," he says. "Always you."

Their mouths press together in open ecstasy as they come one after another, bursting into delicious, whole-body pleasure.

Astarion all but collapses on top of her, her legs spread wide to accommodate him. She gasps in several deep breaths, coming back to earth. Then she breaks into giggles.

"Stop that," he grumbles at her. "I'm a paying customer."

"Oh, that was good," she says, wiping the corner of her eye. "That was a good one. We have to do that again."

He sits up on an elbow, staring at her bleary-eyed. "How many asked before me?" he says.

"At least three," she says.

"Should've been much more than that," he says. "You're top-shelf merchandise."

She cuffs him upside the head. "Well, someone didn't let the scene go on very long, did he."

"We have the room until morning?" he asks, avoiding her accusation.

"So the barkeep told me when I asked."

"Well. Better make it worth five hundred gold, then, shouldn't we?"

#astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion smut #astarion x tav #astarion x oc #astarion x f!tav #astarion x female tav #kitten writes

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wangxianficfinder · 5 months

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In the mood for...

Apr 29th

~*~

1. Itmf wangxian but A) it's a universe with mechas and wwx may/may not be a mecha genius or mecha master?

B) wx but make it Interstellar univ

C) wwx transmigrating please

1A)

The Weight of the World by KouriArashi (T, 67k, WangXian, XiYao, XuanLi, Pacific Rim Fusion, Robots, Monsters, robots fighting monsters, Family, Romance, Developing Relationship, Angst, (but not about the romances), Hurt/Comfort, Politics, Happy Ending)

Thunder's Coming Over Me by phnelt (E, 38k, WangXian, WIP, Avatar & Benders Setting, Pacific Rim Fusion, temporary character death (wwx's), Angst with a Happy Ending, Action & Romance)

I’ll buy you the moon (I’ll buy you two) by Thesaurus_with_no_words (E, 27k, WangXian, Science Fiction, Space, Rebels, Space Opera, On the Run, Promoted To Parent, Robots, Androids, Mechs, Battle Mechs, Hurt/Comfort, Technopathy, Willful and Deliberate Baby and Wife Acquisition, Porn With Plot, Mpreg) would this count if the mech fighting is only mention and wwx is currently a technopath?

~*~

2. Itmf request! Any fics where LWJ and WWX get together (even if just as friends) before LWJ figures himself out and so he's embarrassed by WWX or otherwise reticent or dismissive about their relationship?

Cleaning & Courtship by Winxhelina (T, 13k, WangXian, Modern Cultivation, Getting Together, First Kiss, Bunnies, Domestic Fluff, Fluff) fits the bill I feel. Lan Wangji definitely isn’t dismissive on purpose but he is awfully embarrassed and flustered in chapter 2. (And in fact In the secret chapter 3 that has been in my drafts for ages, but we don’t talk about her. The story is done. Supposedly.)

~*~

3. heyy there, feeling for some angsty fics of lwj finding out wwx death or just grieving for him over the years. thanksss

to the act of making noise by words-writ-in-starlight (WordsWritInStarlight) (G, 19k, LSZ & LWJ, LSZ & WWX, WangXian, Grief/Mourning, Father-Son Relationship, inquiry, LSZ is the best of boys and I will not hear debate, Music, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Found Family) This is sorta third party POV, with Sizhui being the third party. Angsty yet tender, with Sizhui growing up hearing Inquiry. I swear I went through a pile of tissues the first time I read it, but in the best way! Highly recommend the podfic version for extra feels!

to remember names of plants series by detention_notes (T, 8k, Diary/Journal, Character Study, WWX's canonical humor as deflection, WQ is a lesbian, Friendship, Parenthood, Pining, thinly-veiled anger and fear, small moments of hope, planning for uncertain futures, is this angst?, gentle angst, Reminiscing, Found Family, Parenthood, Reminiscing, Pining, Grief/Mourning, Epistolary, Healing, Childhood, Love, LWJ's single parenthood, how to love a memory, how to raise the next generation, Canonical Character Death, Yearning, LWJ's concentrated stream-of-consciousness emotions, Bittersweet, Hopeful Ending)

New Perspective by mrcformoso (T, 8k, WangXian, LSZ & LWJ, Major Character Death, Angst, Hopeful Ending, Fatherhood, Regrets, Flashbacks, POV LWJ, LWJ-centric, Canonical Character Death - WWX, Pining LWJ, LWJ Has Feelings, LWJ Needs a Hug, Character Development, Dead WWX, LWJ deals with the death of his love, And learns to be a father along the way, Introspection, Feelings, LWJ is Bad at Feelings, Character Study, WWX's death in The Untamed was too raw, Regretful LWJ, Breaking Toxic Cycles, Canon Compliant, LWJ in Seclusion, Post-LWJ in Seclusion, Child LSZ)

~*~

4. hello! thank you for all the lovely work you do mods, this is my favourite account for finding fic recs :)

i wanted to ask for recommendations of fics where lwj is pining for wwx and maybe genuinely emotionally hurt, or some temporarily unrequited love? the angstier the better tbh, i want to see lwj go through it (before wwx makes it better). only happy endings though please :’)

thanks so much!! 💖

Continuation by thefaceofno (T, 14k, WangXian, Canon Continuation, WWX builds a lotus pond in cloud recesses, Hair Brushing, Light Angst with a Happy Ending, Pining, gay disaster LWJ, Post-Canon Fix-It)

When the Words Stop Coming by mrcformoso (T, 7k, WangXian, Canon Compliant, POV WWX, POV LWJ, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Pre-Sunshot Campaign, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Canonical Character Death, Love Confessions, Rejection, LWJ is a Panicked Gay, Temporarily Unrequited Love, Trauma, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Angst with a Happy Ending, Sad with a Happy Ending)

~*~

5. fics of lwj being protective of wwx?? have a good day, thanks. ❤️

Inchoate by Marinelifeclub (T, 20k, WangXian, WIP, Child Abuse, Bad Parent JFM, Bad Parent YZY, Protective LQR, Protective LWJ, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Not YZY Friendly, Not JC Friendly, No Golden Core Transfer, Dark JFM)

🔒 between the shadow and the soul by Reverie (cl410) (M, 22k, WangXian, JYL/WQ, JC/NHS, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Family, Dark WWX, Feral WWX, Memory Loss, Magic, Magical Realism, Protective LWJ, Protective JC, Protective JYL, Grief, BAMF WWX, POV Alternating)

~*~

6. Hi! For the next itmf, do you have anything with jyl acting as a mother to wwx? Or anything similar

Fatherhood’s Calling by Fortune_Maiden (G, 1k, JYL/JZX, JZX & WWX, post-sunshot, crack, humor)

The Teapot Plot series by ToxicAngel13 (E, 127k, WangXian, LXC/NMJ, Misunderstandings, protective Jiang siblings, Golden Core Reveal, Golden Core Transfer Fix-It, Idiots in Love, Post-Sunshot Campaign, Pre-Burial Mounds, Potential for M-Preg, Fix-It, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, Gusu Lan Sect Rules, Mpreg)

~*~

7. Hi! Someone suggest coming here to ask for wangxian fic recs so here I am >^<. Anyways, do you know any fics where wangxian got together before wei wuxian's death? As in, wwx still dies and comes back later in mxy's body.

Thanks in advance!

~*~

8. in the mood for a wangxian fic thats shows/movies rewritten to fit wangxian, i recently read this mamma mia and love O2O au and fell in love with wangxian being put in shows/movies @yesibest

all your life you’ll dream of this by Attila (T, 22k, WangXian, Fairy tale, Cinderella Fusion, Pining)

🔒 the stars in the hazy heaven tremble above you by cicer (G, 64k, WangXian, Fantasy, Cinderella Fusion, Mutual Pining)

the rivers start to sing by fruitys (M, 27k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Tangled (2010) Fusion, Fairy Tale Elements, Strangers to Lovers, True Love's Kiss, or something like that, Sharing a Bed, Wound Tending, Hurt/Comfort, Attempt at Humor, Implied/Referenced Torture, Canon-Typical Violence, the inherent intimacy of traveling with a beautiful stranger, and completely depending upon one another for 3 days)

Down comes the night by danegen (E, 67k, wangxian, Alternate Universe, Canon Era, inspired by From, Horror, Sharing a Room, POV LWJ, no jiangs, a whole village of OCs, tiny mention of past wwx/omc, Happy Ending)

The Dragon's Bride by jaws_3 (T, 34k, WangXian, Beauty and the Beast Fusion, Arranged Marriage elements, Slow Burn, sometimes ya get sent off to atone for ur villages misgivings and u just gotta deal, Dragon LWJ, Mutual Pining, Happy Ending, Spanish Translation Available)

Something Good by boxoftheskyking (T, 43k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Teaching, Sound of Music AU)

~*~

9. Can you all recommend me some fanfic (preferably if long and not modern AU) also if it's completed. @lanwuxian0725

💖🔒 love, in fire and blood by cicer (E, 360k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, YLLZ WWX, Arranged Marriage, political scheming, Gratuitous Domesticity, Mutual Pining, EXTREME SLOWBURN, the inherent eroticism of the forehead ribbon, The Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known, neither wwx nor lwj want to be Perceived, but sorry kids! it’s gonna happen!, rated E but the the NSFW stuff doesn’t begin until chapter 19!, bottom LWJ in chapter 20 and 27)

Teen Project to Change the World by animeloverhomura (Not rated, 810k, WangXian, watching the series, BAMF WWX, Fix-It, JGS is his own warning, Attractive WWX, Homophobia, disturbing imagery, WIP)

🧡 Stunted, Starving Juvenility by TomatenMark (E, 786k, WangXian, WIP, Fix-it of sorts, Talisman master WWX, Not JFM Friendly, Study Arc, Getting together, Fluff and Angst, Engagement)

❤️ Tragedy is Not the End by Hobbsy3 (T, 358k, wangxian, Time Travel, Torture, Hurt/Comfort, Golden Core Reveal, Canon Divergence from Qiongqi Pass, Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Yunmeng sibling bonding, good dad wwx, good dad lwj, JZX Lives, JYL Lives, Junior Quartet Dynamics)

A Narrow Bridge by FrameofMind, Jo Lasalle (Jo_Lasalle) (E, 700k, wangxian, time travel fix-it, slow burn, getting together, first time, pining, pining while fucking, burial mounds settlement days, angst w happy ending)

Love Song In Reverse by timetoboldlygo (T, 237k, WangXian, Amnesia, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Falling In Love, Slow Burn, agressively mixing and matching novel and cql canon, No Homophobia, Mentions of Starvation, Parental WWX)

~*~

10. Itmf: anything with wwx meeting his family on his father’s side? Preferably Pre-canon or a canon divergence

We Meet at the Thousandth Step by Admiranda, Rynne (T, 295k, WangXian, CSSR/WCZ, WIP, Canon Divergence, No Sunshot Campaign, CSSR & WCZ Live, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Different First Meeting, Night Hunts, Genius WWX, Inventor WWX, Plot, Romance, Drama, Fluff, Strangers to married, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Everyone Lives AU, Developing Relationship, Minor Violence, Case Fic, Mystery, Flirting, WWX’s Canon-Typical Flower Flirting, Arson, There Was Only One Bed, Getting Together, First Kiss, Meeting the Parents, Resolved Sexual Tension, Resolved Romantic Tension, WWX Is a Good Big Brother, New Relationship Bliss, Chinese Mythology & Folklore, Blood and Injury, Yiling siblings, Married WangXian, Honeymoon, Wangxian’s Baby Fever)

~*~

11. Hi! As always thank you for everything!!! Do you have recs where lwj kinda gets hurt and wwx just go ylz crazy?? Thank you!! @gideonmorningstar

the field meets the wood by astronicht (T, 7k, WangXian, BAMF WWX, slight whump, Ritualistic Self Harm, Canon Era, Tang Dynasty style, Blood Loss, Blood and Injury, salt economics, Post-Canon)

cold black light by rynleaf (E, 2k, WangXian, PWP, Major Character Injury, Unorthodox Methods of Healing, Rough Sex(Ish) Anal Fingering, The Yiling Patriarch, Blood, Bottom LWJ, Aftercare, LWJ is in love, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Podfic Available)

love what’s burning right in front of you by seularen (E, 10k, WangXian, Post-Canon, BAMF!WWX, description of murder, Case Fic, Political Intrigue, YL WWX, Bottom LWJ, Top WWX, but Big Switch Energy)

to be wielded by your hands by Vir_Abelasan (M, 3k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Fluff and Smut, Competence Kink, Knifeplay, Established Relationship, LWJ has a Yiling Patriarch kink, Consensual sealing of meridians, kink negotiated on the fly, Strength Kink, Resentacles)

~*~

12. hiii!! thank you for all the work you do.

i'm itmf some wwx age regression? like he gets cursed somehow and turns into little a-ying and it's just all feels with the juniors and lwj taking care of him :(((

❤️ grow by cafecliche (T, 14k, WangXian, Age Regression/De-Aging, Character Study, Post-Canon)

found your writing on my wall by howodd5ever (T, 25k, WangXian, JC & LWJ, JC & WWX, Accidental Baby Acquisition, De-aged WWX, Post-Canon, Getting Together, Referenced Child Neglect, discussion of parental loss, child food insecurity, Case Fic, kind of, Nightmares)

~*~

13. hello! i was wondering if there are any fics where Jin Zixuan and Wei Wuxian become like besties/sworn brothers or like really close? thanks <3 @nyxiblue

❤️🔒 Candy & Conspiracies by Reverie (cl410) (T, 16k, wangxian, JZX & WWX, jin wwx, fluff & crack, found family, humor, no angst) WX is taken in by the Jin instead of the Jiang, & he, JZX, & MM are besties

🔒 The Second Hand Unwinds by trulywicked (E, 56k, WangXian, JYL/JZX, WIP, Time Travel Fix-It, Not JC Friendly, Not Yunmeng Jiang Sect Friendly, Not Jiāng Family Friendly, Not YZY Friendly, Time Travelling LWJ, Protective LWJ, Fluff, Minor Angst, Minor Character Death, JGS is his own warning, Wooing, LWJ is romantic af, Inventor WWX, Genius WWX, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Protective Gusu Lan Sect, Supportive LXC, Good Uncle LQR, WWX Protection Squad) has Wei Wuxian become sworn brothers with Jin Zixuan

Twin Treasures by crossdressingdeath (T, 81k, WIP, JZX & WWX, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Can’t quite tag this as ‘everyone lives’ but I promise everyone who dies will DESERVE IT, mostly novel-verse with a bit of CQL here and there, currently being edited) has Wei Wuxian and Jin Zixuan become actual brothers.

watch what we'll become by glitteringmoonlight (T, 60k, JZX & WWX, WangXian, Background JZX/JYL, WWX & JZX are married but completely platonically, featuring my let WWX and JZX be bros agenda, slow burn? is it even a slow burn if they confess but can't be together for Reasons?, Canon Divergence, Fix-It of Sorts, Angst with a Happy Ending, you've heard of enemies to friends to lovers, now get ready for enemies to reluctant husbands to begrudging best friends)

🔒 Quartet series by WithBroomBefore (T, 69k, Platonic Soulbond, Hurt/comfort, Canon Divergence, No golden core transfer, JC&JZX stay in Xuanwu cave, Fix-it, Temporary character death)

~*~

14. ITMF ask, I’m looking for any golden core fix it fics. (with minimal to no JC bashing plz) I’ve looked through the comp and it doesn’t clearly separate fix-its, golden-core revels and golden-core fix its. And some authors don’t explicitly tag a golden-core fix-it or wwx getting a new core as explicitly that, sometimes they just leave it tagged as a fix-it and it’s missed. So give me any good ones you’ve got. @omgnectarina

The Fire Lapping Up the Creek by notevenyou (E, 66k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Injury, Injury Recovery, Blood, Respiratory Illness, Major Illness, Fever, Grief/Mourning, Burial Mounds, Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Hunger and food scarcity, Surgery, Fix-It of Sorts)

💖 Echo, Murmur, Dream, Here by bluerainmist (M, 51k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Universe Alteration, the yiling patriarch survives, Angst with a Happy Ending, Catharsis, Slow Burn, Drama, Getting Together, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Melancholy, Love, Mutual Pining, Reunions, Love Confessions, Eventual Smut, Blow Jobs, Anal Sex, Switching, Grief/Mourning, fucking while pining, Implied/Referenced Torture, Self-Harm, golden core transfer, Playing fast and loose with worldbuilding, Plot, Battle Scenes, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, implied / Referenced suicide attempt, Sect Leader WWX, YLLZ WWX, Yílíng Wèi Sect, mind all the tags) might count as a GC Fix-It?

🧡 Weep You No More, Sad Fountains by athena_crikey (T, 48k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Fix-it fic, Whump, Curses, Fever, Delirium, Stabbing, Loneliness, Confessions)

the breaking of your soul (upon my lips) by sunsandships (M, 40k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Mutual Pining, Golden Core Reveal, Happy Ending)

Righteous at a Cost by thunderwear (G, 21k, wangxian, LQR & WWX, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, no one dies, LQR finds out about WWX’s core, WWX and LQR are friends??, In My Fic?, its more likely than you think, LWJ in the bg like whats happening?, Fluff, WWX goes to Gusu, Mutual Pining, Golden Core Reveal)

Ghosts Shouldn’t by ShanaStoryteller (Not Rated, 15k, WangXian, Grief/Mourning, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending)

Can’t Tell Me Nothin by natacup82 (T, 35k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, Everybody Lives, Family Feels, Communication, BAMF Women)

I’m Sorry & Thank You by Iamnotawriter (T, 12k, WangXian, LQR & WWX, Canon Compliant, Post-Canon, Golden Core, Canon-Typical Violence, lqr’s epipheny, Angst with a Happy Ending)

~*~

15. helloo, itmf wei ying near death experiences, canon or modern is finee. thankss.

🔒 a candle blown out by RoseThorne (T, 1k, LWJ & WWX, JC & WWX & JYL, JFM & WWX, Near Death, Depression, Psychological Trauma, Justice, Fear, Angst, No War AU, Attempted Murder, Bad Parent YZY, POV Third Person, POV LXC, Podfic Available)

🔒 a star called sun by thelastdboy (E, 120k, wangxian, SL/XXC, JC & JYL & WWX, JYL & LWJ, WWX & WN & WQ, JYL/JZX, Canon Divergence after Xuanwu Cave, Fall of Lotus Pier, But worse!, Power Imbalance, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Not Everyone Dies AU, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Canon-Typical Violence, Sunshot Campaign, Miscommunication, Heavy Angst with a Happy Ending, Slow Burn, Major Character Injury, Loss of Limbs, Chronic Illness, Seizures, WWX’s Three Months in the Burial Mounds, Wēn Remnants Live, Wēn Remnants Deserve Better, WWX Creates a Sect | Yílíng Wèi Sect, Additional Warnings In Author’s Note, Hurt/Comfort, Selectively Mute LWJ, Service Animals, Crows)

🔒 Bright Voice Roughly Rendered Softly Silent by Preludian_Staves (T, 26k, WangXian, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon Divergence, No Golden Core Transfer, Muteness, Hurt/Comfort, Getting Together, Not JC Friendly, Confessions, Angst, Choking, Red String of Fate, Appearances by Paperman!WWX, Inventor WWX, Good Uncle LQR, WWX goes to Cloud Recesses, Feelings Realization, Caretaking, Supportive Lan Family, Genius WWX, Angst with a Happy Ending, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Protective LWJ, Protective Lan Family, Character Death (not wwx or lwj))

when you’re doing all the leaving (then it’s never your love lost) by tardigradeschool (T, 26k, wangxian, canon divergence, hurt/comfort, canon-typical violence, sharing clothes, sharing a bed, fix-it, golden core transfer)

When You Wake, 怎能当梦一场 by acertainrogue (T, 39k, WangXian, WWX is in a coma, Angst with a Happy Ending, Modern AU, Single Dad LWJ, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Parenthood, YZY’s A+ Parenting, JFM’s A+ parenting, wangxian family)

总有一天; a place to hide (can’t find one near) by yiqie (E, 76k, WangXian, Modern AU, Pianist, Getting Together, Mental Health Issues, Suicide Attempt, Suicidal Thoughts, Depression, Hospitals, Overdosing, Eventual Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Additional Warnings In Author’s Note)

~*~

16. Hi, thank you for all the work you do.

Wondering if there's any fics where Jiang Cheng does manage to capture Wei Wuxian post res and drag him back to Lotus Pier. (Like lwj doesn't get to him in time or jl doesn't get to save him) Preferably JC unfriendly, thanks!

~*~

17. This blog is amazing thank you mods!!!!

A) Do you know of any Jin Zixuan lives and brother in laws Wei wuxian and jiang cheng

B) Sister in law Jiang Yanli with Lan zhan

17A)

Marital Prospects by Vamillepudding (G, 18k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Everybody Lives, Romantic Comedy, Misunderstandings, LWJ Needs a Hug)

17B)

Aftermath by KouriArashi (T, 57k, JYL/JZX, wangxian, LXC/JGY, JZX & JGY, JYL & WXX, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Everybody Lives, Romance, Developing Relationship, Family, Sibling Bonding, Light Angst, Politics, Attempted Sexual Assault, some murder on occasion, People talking about their feelings, processing their trauma, The good shit) Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji are engaged but not married yet at the end.

~*~

If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

#wangxian #mdzs #wangxian fic recs #i'm in the mood for a fic #the untamed #wangxian fic search #wangxianficfinder #long post

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pianokantzart · 8 months

Note

Hi Piano! I love your posts and your comics! I loved the idea of making a Luigi's mansion film, I even posted some ideas, do you have ideas for a Luigi mansion film?

Thank you! I have touched upon the idea a bit, with @keakruiser adding some thoughts of their own. But I do have more...

Mario and Luigi start off the movie having money issues despite the booming business. Maybe they accidentally caused some sort of serious damage that they need to pay for? Maybe there's a family emergency? Or maybe they've been too generous with free plumbing repairs to the point that the bills are catching up with them. Either way, I want all the gold and cash that Luigi vacuums up to have some sort of serious significance.

Luigi tries to talk to his father and uncles about the plumbing business at Sunday dinner, but they all speak over him in favor of talking to Mario. Mario tries to nudge the conversation in Luigi's direction, but Luigi eventually gives up and goes to the kitchen to help his mother with dishes. There he has a little heart to heart with his mom, similar to this scrapped scene from the SMB Movie concept art, but with Luigi instead of Mario:

Please please please make The Dark Moon an element! Establish that it isn't just Mario's life on the line, but an entire world at risk of being swarmed by angry ghosts under King Boo's control.

And of course we need to have Polterpup! Let's say that "animals are the among the few spirits who don't need to be soothed by the dark moon," but unfortunately that matters very little to Luigi, who has an established fear of dogs. So we go into why! Maybe he got attacked by a dog as a young child and needed Mario to save him? This would feed into both Luigi's sense of helplessness, and guilt about being so frightened while his brother is so brave and selfless.

As Luigi gets more victories under his belt, and as Polterpup follows him around and helps out, they start to form a bond. Eventually we get a Puss In Boots 2 esque scene where Luigi has an anxiety attack after loosing radio contact with E. Gadd, before Polterpup floats over and helps calm him down enough to keep moving.

Have Luigi's semi-canon mechanical prowess come into play! At some point, midway through a particularly grueling fight, the poltergust gets damaged. Between running for his life, hiding in various locations, and knocking things over to buy himself time, Luigi steadily fixes the damage enough to pull through the fight.

Luigi and Elvin Gadd bond over being two (vaguely autistic-coded) weirdos. Luigi is surprised that Elvin Gadd doesn't mind trusting him with his equipment, that he doesn't get annoyed with his fear, and doesn't mind walking him through every tiny step. Meanwhile Elvin Gadd is like "Patient with you??? I love walking you through things step by step! You're one of the few people who'll actually listen to my ramblings! And yeah, you're clearly scared, but you've stayed! That's way more than most."

I imagine the people trapped in paintings are able to speak and move around, but King Boo can set their painting to a sort of "stagnant mode" if the captive gets too rowdy or mouthy. Mario's picture is mostly kept in stagnant mode for obvious reasons.

King Boo's confidence visibly wavers the further along Luigi gets. King Boo goes from "Why should I be worried? E. Gadd's a decrepit fool and his new 'apprentice' is a sniveling coward!" to "Okay so Luigi can use the poltergust... he's no match for my forces!" to "What is wrong with all of you!? Why can't you catch a simple plumber!?" to "I'm going to tear this man's soul apart with my teeth!"

Bowser was heavy metal, so I want King Boo to be operatic with a Gothic/Baroque ballroom aesthetic. Of course we've got to have orchestral version of the Luigi's Mansion theme, but I also want a cinematic revamp of the SMBW "Night At Boo's Opera" song.

youtube

You know how Luigi broke down laughing and sobbing when he finally saved Mario in the original Luigi's Mansion? That. I want that, with an extra dose of Mario hugging Luigi and reassuring him that he's alright.

#long post #Luigi's Mansion #Super Mario Bros #professor e gadd #Luigi #Mario #King Boo #Mario Movie #again I could go on but those are my main ideas #dragon-fly34 #askbox

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guess-my-next-obsession · 2 years

Text

A Warm Bed

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

rating: E (18+ only, mature descriptions of death/apocalyptic life, blurry infidelity, unprotected PIV, dirty talk, cum play i guess, unedited/proofread bc I REFUSE)

word count: 3.4k

joel masterlist

It was freezing out today in Boston but you didn’t notice, not with the flames that burned beside you as you hoisted dead child after dead child into the makeshift mass crematorium. Ash turned your hair grey, hiding away it’s natural color until you’d shower it off later on tonight, and even then it would never completely go away, just like the smell of burning flesh would never fully leave your nostrils.

This hadn’t been the life you imagined for yourself as a child before the outbreak. You always thought you’d go into something that helped people—teaching, nursing, maybe even social work—but life couldn’t have turned out more different. Joel, your work partner, assured you once after a particularly tough shift that in a way, you were helping people. You struggled to believe it.

“Take your break,” Joel approached you, swatting your hip lightly with the back of his gloved hand as you stood watching the little girl no older than five burn in the pit, unable to take your eyes off the destruction you had a hand in causing. “Hey,” he called firmer, finally pulling your eyes from the scene, “Go take a break.”

“Can’t,” you sighed, pointing behind him at the new truck of arrivals, Joel’s head shaking just enough for you to notice it before he brought his eyes back to yours. You spotted something deeply apologetic in them, Joel having graced you with a rare bit of empathy as he studied you. “Shifts almost over anyways. Let’s just hurry up and get this truck cleared so we can all go home.”

“You’re cryin’,” he pointed out, almost angry.

“It’s the wind,” you snapped back at him as the truck backed up towards the two of you. “Come on.”

You and Joel worked more efficiently than any other duo on cremation duty, Joel’s strength and ability to shut off his emotions at will pairing excellently with your speed and determination to get the job over with. He handled the adults, you the children—it was a system that you had down pat. Two hours and at least six more trucks later, the two of you were off.

Usually, you’d go one way and Joel would go the opposite, the two of you never really interacting with each other outside of work except when you had to. He had Tess for that, and you had…well, you had yourself.

But today, Joel stuck beside you, walking with you as you left the payout line after your shift. He said nothing as he joined you through town, his shoulder grazing yours every now and then as he moved over to let someone pass on the sidewalk.

“Gotta stop and get some bread,” you announced, pointing at the general store you were approaching. Joel nodded, his eyes flickering to you.

“Should stop and get somethin’ to eat myself.” You found his company to be both strange and comforting. Joel always made you feel safe, or at least as safe as someone living in a world this unpredictable and cruel could feel.

Walking inside, he followed you as you perused the aisles, your brain working as quickly as it could to work out the cheapest plan for dinner given the throbbing headache you were dealing with from the fumes and smoke.

“Pasta,” he suggested with a point of his finger, seemingly reading your mind. “Always my go to.”

“I do have some canned tomatoes.” You reached for the loose spaghetti noodles sitting in a plastic bin in the shelf and took a guess at how much you’d need to feed you, not wanting to spend more than you absolutely needed to.

“Why don’t you come over and we can share it,” he suggested, albeit shyly. You gave him a quirked eyebrow and he rolled his eyes. “I’ll split the bill.”

“So Tess eats for free?” You chuckled and shook your head. It wasn’t that you didn’t like Tess, you just resented her for having everything you ever wanted: someone to come home to, someone to make living in this dark world worth all the strife.

“Tess is out on a run,” he informed, his tone betraying him and exposing his loneliness. “Won’t be back for a few days.”

Did he want you to be his mistress? Though you admittedly were desperate for even a semblance of affection, you were no home-wrecker. Especially not Tess’s home.

“Joel, I hope you’re not—“

“I didn’t mean it like that, I just…” He shook his head and mumbled, “Forget it.”

Feeling overwhelmed by your own need for company and the pained look in his eye, you sighed, reaching one hand over to touch his shoulder.

“Sure. Let’s share.”

“Knock, knock,” you called as you pushed open the door to Joel’s apartment, having only been there once before to his flask that he’d left at work by mistake.

“Come in,” Joel’s indifferent rasp welcomed you.

“Brought some beers, too.” You gave him an unsure smile as you watched him buzz around his kitchen, a pot boiling the pasta from earlier while he tended to the sauce in another pan.

“Thank you,” he gave you a flicker of a smile as you set one of the beers on the counter beside him.

“Got a bottle opener?” You knew the answer to that was clear from the amount of beer bottles in his trash can, but didn’t want to snoop around for it without his consent.

“Yeah,” he left the stove and walked over to a drawer, pulling out the metal tool and handing it over to you so that you could open yours first.

“Ran into your brother on my way over,” you announced, watching as he scoffed and rolled his eyes. “He’s getting in deep with Marlene’s group, huh?”

“I told him to stay far away from all that,” he scolded you as though it was your doing. “Boy don’t listen for shit.”

“Just saw them hanging three Fireflies yesterday,” you lamented with a shake of your head. You weren’t sure if you bought into the group’s ideology, and you especially weren’t a fan of their methods for going about change, but you knew they didn’t deserve to be executed.

“Yeah, well, if you see Tommy up there, do me a favor and keep it to yourself.” Joel walked back to the stove and kept his eyes focused on the food, a silence falling over the two of you for a while.

“Thanks,” you finally spoke as Joel set your plate down in front of you at his tiny dining table before seating himself in front of you.

“You doin’ alright?” he asked in between bites, his eyes now seemingly unable to look anywhere else but directly into yours. You felt flushed at the attention he was showing you, but tried to pay it little mind.

“Yeah, I’m…fine,” you lied. “Just waiting for my own Tess to come along, I guess.”

“Tess and I aren’t Romeo and Juliet for fucks sake,” he lowered his eyes to his plate and spun his fork around to collect the pasta. “Just two people.”

“Yeah, but at least there’s someone,” you argued. “When I go home…it’s just me and my cold bed.”

“Believe it or not, but my bed gets cold too.” There was something in his voice tonight, something that hadn’t ever been there before, or at least not that you’d noticed. Your eyes locked and you felt something stir inside of you that both thrilled you and filled you with immense guilt.

Of course the one person in Boston you wanted to get into bed with was taken.

Not knowing what to say, you let out an airy chuckle and looked down at your nearly empty plate, missing the way Joel eyed you like a man on a mission.

“Look if you’re worried about Tess,” he started, sitting back in his chair and stretching his legs out underneath the table. “Don’t be.”

“Oh yeah? Would Tess say the same?” You lifted your eyes only to be punched in the gut by his rugged handsomeness. Working with him as long as you had had conditioned you to his above-average looks, seeing him dirty and covered in ash everyday made it easier to pretend he was just like every other man in town, but with him clean, sitting in front of you, having just cooked you a meal, and now nearly begging you to consider sharing a bed with him tonight? It wasn’t so easy.

“Tess and I ain’t—,” he started, pausing to let out a soft sigh. “We both have gone outside of this…before. Her more than me, but that’s ‘cause I’m not much for all that.”

“You and Tess are open?” you asked in amused disbelief, having never imagined the couple in their fifties, although neither of them looked too old by any means, spreading their love throughout the zone.

“I didn’t say that.” He tapped his fingers on the table. “Just said it happens.”

“Joel, I don’t want Tess at my door,” you sighed, finding it harder and harder to stick to your morals the longer he stared at you.

“She won’t,” he promised. “Besides, I ain’t asking for—look, I’m just offerin’ a warm bed. That’s all.”

“Just a warm bed?” You hated that that disappointed you.

“Just a warm bed.”

You knew the minute you curled up next to him that tonight wouldn’t simply be about staying warm together or keeping each other company. The ache between your thighs was incessant as you rested your head on his chest, his natural scent that might have been considered musky pre-outbreak sent you reeling. It had been years since you felt another person’s warmth this way, let alone a man. You found yourself moving closer and closer, tossing your leg over his and hugging your arm around his waist to soothe the building desire for more. Joel didn’t seem to mind.

“Here—“ He shifted onto his side, pulling you flush against his body. Your leg rested over his hip, his thigh planted firmly between yours as he gave you space to bury your face in his neck. “Better?”

“Joel—“ you exhaled shakily, not sure you even wanted to finish the thought. Joel pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, both of you staring at each other in silence for a few tense seconds before he started to lean in. His lips simply grazed yours, not even molding with yours yet, but he managed to pull a needy moan out of you.

“Sweet thing,” he cooed, kissing his way across your chin, his beard scratching at your skin and his lips pressing against your pulse. “How long has it been?”

“Years,” you confessed breathily, your eyes closed as you allowed yourself to enjoy the feeling of his lips against your skin, the heat of his palms as they ran up and down your side, the increase of pressure of his thigh against your core.

“That’s too damn long,” he husked in a mumble as he rolled you onto your back, his warmth never leaving you as he rolled right on top of you.

“You’re sure—“ Your words were interrupted by his hips pressing into yours, the barrier of your clothes doing little to prevent you from feeling him. “Fuck, you’re sure Tess won’t kill me for this?”

“I’m sure,” he soothed, pressing his lips to yours finally, one arm holding him up while his other hand slid up your side, dragging your sweater up with it. “This somethin’ you want?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, lacing your fingers in his salt and pepper waves. “I think it’s something I need.”

“I need you too,” he confessed, sitting back on his ankles so that he could look at you spread out beneath him. Even covered in your dingy, well-worn winter clothes, Joel devoured the sight of you unabashedly, his hands roaming from your sides down to your hips and to your thighs as they spread to give his hips room to fit. “Been imagining’ this for years now.”

“Yeah right,” you chuckled a scoff, rolling your eyes.

“Don’t matter if you think I’m lyin’,” he replied, his hands sliding the hem of your sweater up until he was lifting it over your head. “I know I’m tellin’ the truth.”

You wanted to believe that all these years Joel had harbored a desire for you, but the concept just seemed too unrealistic, too fantastical to be true.

“Look at you,” he praised, hands smoothing over the long-untouched skin of your stomach until he was cupping your breasts through your worn-out bra, his eyes exposing his reverence.

“You’re good at flattery,” you teased as you tried not to let yourself read too much into his praise. Just a warm bed. That’s all this was.

Joel said nothing. Instead, he lowered his lips to your sternum, kissing every inch of you he could reach as he slid your bra straps down your shoulders before reaching underneath your arched back to pop the hooks undone.

He looked like a crazed man as he took in the sight of your bare breasts, a subtle growl slipping from his lips as he leaned down to capture one of your nipples in his mouth, the feeling of his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud causing you to buck your hips up against his.

“Take these off,” he ordered, tugging on your belt loops as he pulled himself away from you to stand up off the bed and strip himself.

You struggled with your jeans as you tried not to miss a moment of watching him shed his layers, your hands shaking as they fought with the rigid denim at your ankles before finally freeing yourself. Joel nearly pounced on you as his eye caught a glimpse of the wet patch on your underwear, his hips fitting between your open thighs as he covered your naked body with his own, his cock prodding at your covered mound as he kissed you breathless.

Nothing about him was graceful, nothing about him was tender, but you didn’t want him any other way. You needed to feel his desire for you, to feel how animalistic your body turned him. His rough palms and scratchy beard burned your skin, and you found yourself hoping you’d feel him for weeks to come.

“Can I taste you?” he asked against your pulse as he littered your neck with tiny marks, society far past caring about scandalous things like that.

“Only if you want,” you answered, having never actually experienced a man going down on you before. Joel sat back on his ankles and gave you a wicked half-smirk, his calloused thumb stroking over your kiss-swollen bottom lip.

“Trust me,” he rasped. “Been thinkin’ about licking you clean since the moment I met you.”

“And yet you never thought to tell me,” you teased, your cheeks heating from his confession.

“You’re at least half my age, sweet thing,” he reasoned as he kissed down your stomach until he was laying between your open thighs. “Never thought you’d want an old man like me in your bed.”

“You need to get your eyes checked, Miller,” you brushed his hair out of his face as he slid your panties off. “You’re beautiful.”

“For an old man?”

“For any man.” Joel turned tender for a moment and met your eyes, his hands that were gripping your thighs now rubbing softly.

“You’re too good for this place,” he murmured as he leaned in, licking a broad strip up your cunt and flicking the tip of his tongue over your clit. Your back arched off the bed from the jolts of pleasure, your reaction earning you another smile.

“You asking me to—oh—to run away with you, Miller?” you asked between his sloppy laps at your cunt, his tongue feeling better than you could have ever dreamed it up to be.

“I ain’t that crazy,” he husked, voice thick with arousal before he dived back in.

Joel ate you out like a man starved, even though he’d just cooked you the best dinner you’d had in a while. You wanted to run your hands through his hair, to watch him as he shed a layer of himself for you, but you controlled yourself.

“Fuck,” he hummed as his tongue flicked at your swollen bud until your thighs were shaking around his face. “You gonna cum on my tongue, baby?”

Your eyes were squeezed shut but you pried them open to look down at him, nodding furiously. Joel grinned and sucked your clit, the tiny change in pace sending you over the cliffs of bliss without much warning.

“Shit,” you choked out, body shaking and spasming from the first orgasm you’d had in a long time. Joel kept licking at you, but he was soft, gentle, tender.

“You taste like heaven, you know that?” he rasped as he kissed his way up your body until he was sharing your taste with you with his tongue down your throat. You could only mewl and grab at him as he held himself up with one arm and used his other to guide his cock up and down your slick center. “Bet you feel like heaven, too. Can I?”

“Take whatever you need from me, Joel. I’m yours tonight,” you promised, still stuck in a post-climactic haze. Joel moaned as he stuck the tip of his cock inside of you, just enough for you to feel him. “Don’t tease—

“M’not teasin’, just don’t wanna hurt you.” Joel waited a beat before inching in a bit more, his brows screwing up in pleasure. “Also don’t wanna finish as fast as I think I am.”

“I don’t care,” you cooed, drunk on him being only halfway inside of you and still showing up every man you’d ever slept with. “You have all night to impress me.”

“I haven’t already?” he asked, tone hinting at playfulness but it went missed by you as the tip of his cock prodded at something blinding inside of you. “Fuck, that’s it, ain’t it?” He thrust against the spot proudly, a smirk growing on his otherwise wrecked face. “Flutterin’ against me every time I hit it.”

“Joel, fuck,” you whined, gripping him by the neck and pulling him down for a kiss.

He rested on his elbows, your thighs draped high over his waist as he rocked into you deep and purposefully until you were seeing stars.

“So tight,” he panted in your ear. “So warm. Fuck, you are heaven, ain’t ya?”

“Joel, your cock is so fucking—“ He stole every ounce of coherency from you as he sat back on his heels and pressed your thighs against your chest. With an open jaw and blurry vision, you cried out for him, his thrusts growing harder and more brutal with every plea for more that slipped from your lips.

“God damn—“

“Joel, I’m gonna—“

“Come on, baby. Let me have it.” Joel snarled from the exertion it was taking to fuck you into bliss, but he showed no signs of stopping, his firm hands gripping your thighs to keep them pressed to your chest.

“Oh my god,” you slurred as you entered euphoria for the second time, this time being washed over in it like a cleansing. A sinful, lustful, dirty cleansing.

“Yes!” he growled, grinning with pride. “So fuckin’ good for me. Gonna cum, too. That what you want baby?”

You nodded through your daze. “In my mouth.”

“Jesus—“ he choked on his approval and pulled out of you to crawl over to where your head rested on the pillow, his fist stroking his cock all the while. You opened your eyes, stuck your tongue out, and with a smile you pushed him over the edge. He moaned without care for his volume as his cum painted your tongue, face, and chest with every drop of what he had to offer.

“Mm,” you hummed as you cleaned some of the mess off your chest with your finger and sucked it off. Joel crumbled into the bed against you, his lips cheek against your shoulder while he recovered. “That was nice for just a warm bed.”

“Yeah,” he huffed out a chuckle. “I could…give you a warm bed another time…if you’d like.”

“Well, it is going to be a long winter. Might as well stay warm when I can.” You rolled your head to the side to watch him, his eyelashes fluttering against his cheek as he laid there with his eyes closed, half asleep. “Goodnight, Joel. And…thank you.”

No response came, his snores signaling he was already lost in dreamland. With a content sigh, you stood up and walked into his bathroom to clean yourself off and get dressed.

You didn’t stay in the warmth of his bed that night, or any night thereafter, but you did come back. Over and over again, you came back.

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