#he’s handling the divorce so so well!!!!

[sepublic]

Manny Noceda Haunting the Narrative

We all speak of Caleb haunting the narrative, but what of Manny? Perhaps haunting isn’t the exact right word here, for its foreboding connotations; But he’s ultimately an unseen, unheard ghost whose influence can be felt. Whose absence is there, more clearly than others to be honest because we know that Luz had to have a father, it’s not ambiguous for witches like it is for humans.

From the very first scene, we have to wonder where Manny is if he’s not present during Luz’s conference but Camila is; He’s not even present for Luz to be sent off. He’s not mentioned or acknowledged.

But we have the book he gave Luz, the one that Luz is drawn back towards, and it’s what leads her to the Boiling Isles, and motivates her to stay there for her own sake. It’s what motivates Luz to think of herself, when by the second half of the show she begins to refuse that option as inherently selfish.

If Homesick had aired during S1B, we’d have gotten a glimpse of Manny, but specifically, curiously faceless; Until then, Luz sees a parental figure deteriorating from an incurable illness and is obsessed with handling it, offering medical advice to Eda at one point.

And in Yesterday’s Lie, there’s still no Manny or mention of him, but we see glimpses of his body without the face. And then finally, finally we get Reaching Out and realize; He died. There was no divorce, it’s not that Manny is dead to mother and daughter, only literally. He’s still very much alive to them, Luz is worried about paying tribute to him in that episode.

Camila mourns the loss of Manny, someone who was always better at her about being a weirdo, and without him she feels lost, falls back into what society demands of her, and in doing so hurts their daughter. She mourns that she misses him, but Camila can’t depend on Manny to be what Luz needs her to be; She’ll be Manny, for Luz but also herself too. And Luz herself struggles to be the unapologetic Manny as well, and must do it for herself especially.

It’s the way Manny recontextualizes everything about the Nocedas. It’s the way he haunts the narrative himself, because we noticed, we had to, we had to ask where he was. Why is he not there for Luz or Camila, would he support her, is Camila also struggling from his absence? We don’t need his face or voice or an outright flashback to feel and appreciate Manny’s influence (Though I would’ve loved one).

And in a way, it’s like Dana Terrace’s own father is doing the same; With it being confirmed that Dana’s dad gave her a copy of Pokémon Red before he died, you understand perfectly that Luz is Dana, Manny is her father. Dana still likes Pokémon to this day, she’s done crossover art with Pokémon and her own show.

When it came out, Pokemon was targeted by Evangelicals as evil, it was absurd; And we see the Conformatorium perform similar absurdities in the same first episode where Luz is shown to hold onto her father’s last gift, and her fight with the Conformatorium is her fight with the system that made Luz feel ashamed of Manny’s gift and the profound impact it had on her.

The villain of the show manipulates Luz and makes her think she’s just like him, something Luz acknowledges means being a selfish, destructive force; Unsurprisingly, the villain is a Puritan, the ancestor of evangelicals, who agrees on the similarities but not on these things being evil.

And between Caleb and Manny, perhaps Caleb is defined incorrectly when it comes to how he influences things. Because Caleb does not really motivate Belos, Belos always wanted to be a witch hunter before he could claim to be betrayed by Caleb, he did it for himself. He made Grimwalkers but still continues the harm unto and through them that Caleb stood against. Caleb failed to do anything with Belos, tbh, and all that is passed on are empty genes that a racist would obsess over, but never the spirit as Luz did with Manny.

But what about Caleb’s child? Manny is defined as a father to Luz. What about someone Caleb was a father to as well? His unborn child, the ancestor of Eda. Caleb was a wood carver who loved Flapjack, and the Clawthornes had a tradition of carving Palismen. Could it not be implied that Evelyn carried on his unseen and unheard, yet felt love to their child, born after the death? And this love for the isles and magic and Palismen was passed all the way down to Dell, and then Eda.

And it’s Eda who helps Luz, another human, embrace her love for the isles and magic and Palismen. Evelyn’s descendant helps another human. Luz sees Eda in Manny, she’s his successor as someone who’s present for Luz when Camila can’t always be. Eda loves wild magic and her Palisman, gives Owlbert more autonomy than other witches, and helps the Bat Queen arrange Palismen to find new partners. And what goes around comes around when Caleb’s contribution to Palismen, started by Flapjack, helps Flapjack find a new friend and set in motion events that would lead to the Clawthornes’ injustice being rectified.

I’ve seen people argue that Hunter being with Willow makes him a copy of Caleb, but in addition to Hunter’s arc being him not caring what he does or doesn’t resemble… I think maybe the true parallel to Caleb and Evelyn is Manny and Camila; Both came to Gravesfield, the father was a weirdo with an open mind. He died, the mother mourned, but he passed on something to a child, who would eventually pass it on to Luz herself as both stories and families converge.

So Evelyn and Caleb’s child haunts the narrative; They’re Luz in a sense. Manny haunts the narrative too, since the start. He is Caleb, and so he is Eda who carries that spirit. And he is Eda because she carries the spirit for Luz. Manny is Dana Terrace’s own father, who inspired her to keep being a weirdo, which led to this show. So not only is Manny more important to the narrative’s framing and focus as the main character’s father, whose absence motivates both a disconnect between mother and daughter that leads Luz to the isles, but also motivates Luz to stay?

In a way, Manny represents the father of the series, the father of the show that reflects Dana’s own experiences and beliefs. One could say he haunts Dana’s own life, except… Perhaps the word ‘haunt’ is incorrect. Because it has a negative connotation. Perhaps the word is Inspire; Manny may be dead, we may know little of Mr. Terrace or Manny himself. But we can say that Manny lived, because of his impact, his life had meaning and it always will. Something is in motion, so we all know and understand ask what, or who set it that way.

[naughtyneganjdm]

Love's Second Chance: A Holiday Reunion - Chapter 2

Summary: To distract herself from her loneliness, Y/N throws herself into helping the town finish decorating for Christmas. Since her divorce, Tommy has joined her every year since to help. A minor mishap leads to her running into someone from her past.

Characters: Negan Smith, the reader (OC), Tommy Miller, Joel Miller (mentions), Maria (mentions), etc.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60501985/chapters/154591387

Warnings: Swearing, angst, depression, sad discussions, etc.

Notes: As promised, I will be posting this story three times a week on Monday, Wednesday and Friday. So, yeah! Here it is. Thanks to those who take the time to read it! There is no Joel in this chapter, but he is talked about a lot. Credit to gif @jdmorganz

It was gut-wrenching waking up to an empty house during Christmas time. Silence was not something that Y/N was used to. Being alone was hard enough throughout the normal part of the year, but during Christmas? It was the worst. Y/N would be lying if she said that it wasn’t getting to her. Depression set in pretty heavy during the holidays when the children were with Joel. Distractions were the only way to make it through. Because sitting in an empty house not having someone to share her time with hurt. And it hurt a lot. That’s why when she could help out around town, she happily did. That way her mind was busy and she didn’t think about the loneliness that ate away at her.

For a few weeks she had been helping to put up the decorations around their small hometown. It was something she had been doing ever since she was a kid, so it just stuck with her. With Christmas only a few weeks away, they were desperate to finish everything off to have everything prepared for their most popular festivities and Y/N was there to help them.

Although, this morning she was a bit late because she had to pick up Tommy to come help her. Every year since Joel and Y/N separated, Tommy always made an effort to come help Y/N when she worked on the decorations. Sometimes she thought Tommy did it out of pity, but she wasn’t going to turn down the extra help. Truthfully? She liked having the company too.

“I don’t know how you always have the energy to do this,” Tommy yawned from where he was standing below her holding onto the ladder that was there. Things would have been done faster if Tommy was helping in other places, but last night there was a storm that came through that made things incredibly slippery. So having Tommy holding onto the ladder kept her safe. “Even after the coffee I feel like a zombie.”

“Maybe if you would have gone to bed earlier, you wouldn’t be so tired,” she teased him, stealing a quick look down at him. His head tipped to the side and his big brown eyes seemed so innocent in the moment. “Staying up all night and then expecting to wake up in the morning with little too no sleep doesn’t work so well when you get to your thirties.”

“Hey,” Tommy frowned when she mentioned his age, wrinkling his nose in frustration. “We don’t have to go there with the age thing. I can handle being up all night.”

“Every time I listen to you talk, I question if you are my children’s age,” Y/N pestered Tommy hearing him scoff from down below. Working to put the lights up, she was very careful and heard Tommy yawning once more. “Then again, you do spend a lot of time with my children and they say that you start acting like the people you are around most often.”

“Then I should be grumpy and energetic at the same time,” Tommy suggested with an amused expression when she looked down at him. That was a slam on Joel and she knew it. It was nice that sometimes Tommy although appreciating his brother’s love toward him could be candid about Joel being grumpy. “Can I be honest with you?”

“You always have been,” she moved down the ladder to help Tommy move it before heading back up to start on the next area.

“I was questioning coming here today. I thought about canceling,” Tommy admitted, brushing his fingers through his longer hair, slicking it back. Grasping tightly to the ladder after, Tommy took a look around and sighed loudly. “But then I remembered a promise I made to you a very long time ago and I intend to keep it.”

“If you didn’t want to come Tommy, you didn’t have to,” she assured him, letting out a strained breath when she reached a little too far and almost fell over. Bracing herself again, she realized that she was thankful he was here because this would have been impossible without him. “You don’t have to keep doing this if you’re no longer interested.”

“Oh no. I’m happy doing it. I like spending time with you,” Tommy insisted with worry in his tone. Tommy’s southern drawl was actually thicker than Joel’s so some of his words came off a bit silly making her smile. “That’s not it at all. You just were right about me being up all night. It’s strange how much y’know me.”

“I helped raise you,” she reminded him with a tiny laugh. “I’d be worried if I didn’t. So what were you doing all night?”

“Honestly? A few weeks ago, after a long night of working with Joel, I stopped into the town diner,” Tommy stammered, his fingers curling tighter around the ladder. A warmth flooded into his face with what he was about to tell her. “It was pretty empty in there, so I sat at the counter. A few seats down was this girl. And we got to talkin’…a lot. After that? We’ve been meeting there every day since. At the same time and everything. Talking all night long. So that’s why I almost cancelled on you. I didn’t want to though, so that’s why I’m here.”

“That’s great Tommy!” she assured him, wanting to give him encouragement with what he was telling her while still focusing on getting the lights up. “I’m glad to hear that.”

“Thanks, but…” Tommy’s words came to a quick halt, an uncomfortable sound escaping his lips. “I reckon this sounds ridiculous, but I’m nervous. See I think she’s amazing. Beautiful. Funny. Smart. I think she’s the woman of my dreams.”

“And what’s the problem there?” Y/N wondered, moving down the ladder again to stand before Tommy who looked uneasy talking about this. “Tommy?”

“Well, I’m me. Everyone in this town knows that I’ve had issues,” Tommy reminded her of his past and the problems that he went through with his mental health. Especially after his parents died and after he came back from the war. “People get into everyone’s business here and I’m a mess. I’m not a good match for anyone.”

“That’s bullshit,” she immediately corrected him, stepping forward to grab a hold of the jacket that he was wearing. Pulling him closer, she stroked her hands over his jacket and heard him laugh. “You’re Tommy Miller. The man with a beautiful soul that wants to do his best to save the world. You’re kind. You’re strong. You’re willing to fight for those who can’t. You have the biggest heart. It doesn’t matter about your hardships. Plus? You have the best hair I’ve ever seen.”

“You had to throw that last line in there,” Tommy snickered with Y/N brushing her fingers through his curvy dark locks. “Sometimes you really do feel like my mother Y/N.”

“A part of me feels like I am. Just minus the whole birthing you thing. I adopted you when I was eighteen, Tommy,” she reminded him, teasing him by grabbing his cheek and giving it a firm squeeze. It had his already reddened cheeks from the cold blushing over more. “So I think I know more than anyone. Other than your brother of course.”  

“I still feel bad that you were forced to do that,” Tommy frowned, reaching out to wrap his arms around Y/N to pull her into his arms to give her a big hug. “You were still a kid yourself.”

“So was Joel when he did it, but it didn’t matter. We were a family and we were going to do whatever it took to keep you safe and with your family,” she reminded him, patting him on the chest knowing that with Joel, they went above and beyond to raise Tommy right. “You know I love you.”

“And I love you too,” Tommy promised her with a wink, looking back over his shoulder again as if he was in search of someone. “Which is why I can open up to you. Joel is not very good with all this stuff. It’s hard talking to him. I usually just get a grunt here or there. And I don’t think he’d be happy with me liking this girl.”

“I think Joel would be glad that you found someone that makes you happy,” she suggested, moving the ladder again with Tommy. “Your brother just isn’t very good with romance. He hasn’t been for a while. Confrontation makes him uncomfortable.”

“The moment the two of you got divorced is the moment I stopped believing in true love,” Tommy confessed to her with a frown. It had her chest aching and she gave him a weak smile. It was sweet to hear that, but hard to believe. “I never thought the two of you would break up.”

She didn’t know what to say. She just pat Tommy on the shoulder and gave him a wink. Moving back up the ladder, she heard Tommy muttering something to himself before speaking up again for her to hear, “You know Maria?”

“The mayor’s daughter?” she looked down to confirm with Tommy who gave her a small nod. “You have a thing going with the mayor’s daughter?”

“Well, it’s not a thing. It’s just, well…I don’t know what to call it,” Tommy slurred, tipping his head from side to side. “We’re talkin’? I guess that’s the best way to put it. But I’d really like it to be a thing. She makes me feel things I didn’t know I was capable of feelin’.”

Considering what he was saying, she understood why Joel might be upset with Tommy being in love with Maria. Tommy got in a lot of trouble when he was younger. And the mayor was not always the kindest to Tommy. There was no doubt that Joel would be worried that if something happened with Maria and Tommy that the mayor would go out of his way to make an example of Tommy.

“Ya see why I’m nervous?” Tommy grumbled under his breath, slightly kicking at the snow.

“Well, the mayor has never really been your biggest fan,” she reminded Tommy who let out an uncomfortable breath. That statement made him more ill at ease and she hated to do that to Tommy. “Tommy, it’s not the mayor you are in love with. It’s his daughter. His adult daughter. If you like her and you want to make something more out of it? Do it. Life is short and happiness is rare. So if you can capture that happiness? Go after it. It’s Maria’s life we’re talking about. Not her father’s.”

“So you think it would be okay for me to ask her out on a date-date?” Tommy inquired making sure to keep the ladder steady when Y/N moved back down it. “You don’t think she would say no? I mean with her father hating me all those years…”

“Tommy,” she got him to focus on her after his eyes had wandered around a little bit. “You are a catch. You are one of the most loving people I have ever known. And you’re telling me this girl is already meeting you every night at the diner. I feel like maybe she already thinks there is something there. Because if she didn’t? She wouldn’t be showing up every night.”

“You think?” Tommy went from looking uneasy and self-conscious to having a smile spreading out over his young features.

“I know,” she gave him a wink feeling the sensation of her phone vibrating in her pocket. Pulling off her glove, she tucked it under her arm and dug inside of her pocket for her phone. Lifting it up, she managed to block out the sunlight just enough to see that it was a text from Elizabeth. Opening it up, she saw that it was two photos of a Santa photo session that she had taken with Joel and Peter. The first one was all smiles and the second was the three of them doing crazy faces while Santa looked scared. It made her smile, but at the same time, it hurt. They started having fun with the photos after Joel divorced her. It was like he was making up for the fact that they were no longer together. Without warning, her phone was pulled from her hand and she felt a breath catch in her throat. “Hey!”

“What is it?” Tommy moved around until he could see the screen to see what it was that had made her unhappy. It had Tommy frowning and he looked back at Y/N to see that she was still upset. “How did I know it had something to do with my brother?”

“It’s nothing,” she tried to dismiss that it was a big deal, but Tommy knew better. “I don’t know, Tommy. It��s just hard seeing those sometimes. That was something we used to do together, but now that’s his thing with the children.”

“Why don’t you ask to be part of it?” Tommy reasoned with her, handing her back the phone. Sending Elizabeth a sweet text, she pushed her phone back into her pocket and shrugged. “It’s only right. You’re their mother.”

“Joel made it clear that he didn’t want that after we got separated,” she explained, pulling her glove back on when she swallowed down hard. “And I respected that. It’s just hard because at first Joel was great with it. You know that. You were in our photos until you were eighteen. But the last few years of our marriage he would always…”

“Bitch?” Tommy finished for her. Reflecting on what Tommy said, she nodded her head. That’s not the words she would use, but it summed it up perfectly.

“He hated doing that. But as soon as we were divorced? He went out of his way for it to be special and fun. It’s his thing now even though I’m the one that started it,” she pointed out, separating the lights better so it would be easier for her to put them up. “I know I shouldn’t be jealous or have my feelings hurt, it’s just hard not being part of something anymore.”

“That’s not how things should be,” Tommy frowned, trying to help her with the lights after seeing her struggling.

“But it’s how they are,” she knew there was no changing it. Over the last four years? This was just the way things had ended up.

“Joel should really be here helping you,” Tommy suggested to her with a shrug of his shoulders. “It was his thing with you. Ever since you were kids.”

“You know he hated this more than he did the Santa photo,” she half laughed and Tommy rolled his eyes. “It was worse getting him out than it is you. And by the time he got here? He let everyone know that he didn’t want to be here. He always helped people out around town, but he let people know that he didn’t like it.”

“Grumpy would probably be the definition of Joel Miller over the last few years,” Tommy spoke up with a half-smile, reconsidering what he actually said when he thought about it. “Maybe decade?”

“Don’t let him hear you say that,” she pat Tommy on the chest and gave him a playful wink.

“Ah, he knows I say what I think all the time. It’s a habit when you’re a Miller,” Tommy retorted, his smile expanding out over his features. “We really have no filtering system.”

“Yeah,” she contemplated what he was saying. Thoughts of the night before flooded her mind which had her getting curious. “Elizabeth said that Joel and Tess broke up a while ago. How did that happen?”

“Yeah, it was…nasty,” Tommy explained, his eyebrows bouncing up showing the tension in his face. When it came to Joel’s love life, she tried to avoid talking about it. Most of the time it upset her. But hearing that they weren’t together anymore? That actually piqued her interest. “I was actually surprised it went so bad because I thought Joel would eventually get married to Tess,” Tommy was rambling off, but quickly stopped when he saw the color drain from her face. “I just mean, they seemed to be really into each other. They were really hot and heavy. I think Tess kicked Joel’s ass a lot when they had sex. He’d walk away with marks a lot of the time. Some nights it was like…”

“Tommy, I really don’t want to hear about Joel’s sex life,” Y/N held her hand up to stop Joel’s younger brother from continuing.

“Of course you don’t. I’m sorry,” Tommy apologized profusely, visibly embarrassed that he let it get that far. “I was just saying. They seemed like a pretty tight couple. The only problem was, Tess wanted more from Joel and he just wasn’t willing to give it. It was the same things I heard from you when you fought with Joel. I guess he never called her his girlfriend. Never told her that he loved her. It’s like Joel turned off his emotions completely when it came to relationships. He’s cold. And that’s what I heard from both you and Tess. She accepted it for a while, but as you know, you can only take so much of being with someone and being lonely before you give up.”

Hearing that made her wonder if she should have felt bad for Tess. Part of her did, the other didn’t. This was the woman that Joel ended up with almost immediately after they got divorced. So for her? It felt like a win, but then again? She knew how hard it was loving Joel. Especially when you got nothing back in return.

“One day, she just picked up and left. Never came back,” Tommy elaborated, his big brown eyes locked on hers. “Joel barely reacted. I thought he would be more bothered over the fact that she left, but he didn’t say much. They fought all the time though. A lot of passion came from Tess, but Joel was muted. Tess was a ball buster. Joel definitely has a type. That’s for sure.”

“I was more of a ball buster when we were younger,” she chuckled at Tommy comparing her to Tess.

“Right. Because my brother made you his bitch,” Tommy blurt out and immediately his hand covered his mouth with a loud slap. Worry flooded his features. He was horrified with what he said. It took a minute for him to gather himself before he slowly lowered his hand. “I am so sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I swear to God.”

“You’re not wrong,” she implied, knowing that she could have been mad, but she wasn’t going to be. “I just became a mom and a wife after a while. I lost a lot of what made me…me.”

“You were always special, no matter what stage of you that you were,” Tommy tried to make up for what he said, but the damage was kind of done. It wasn’t that she was mad at him, she just knew that he was right and that bit hurt. “Joel I think likes to be dominated. He likes to be told what to do. He’s had to be in control for so long that he just wants someone to…”

“Again, I don’t need to hear this,” she cut Tommy off wondering if he was going back into explaining Joel and Tess’s sex life with her. “Joel was always a very dominant person with me.”

“Maybe when he was younger. After he lost everything, I think he just wanted something…I don’t know,” Tommy seemed confused with how to describe his brother. “He had everything and more with you. I don’t know how he didn’t see that. I know you still love him. I don’t know how he could be so stupid. You just wanted him to fight for you sometimes…”

“Tommy,” she paused his train of thought, her chest hurting when she thought about how she felt for Joel. “Your brother has no interest in me. Even when the children talk about the two of us together, he’s quick to shut them down. He doesn’t love me anymore. Your brother hasn’t loved me for a very long time.”

“I think he cares about you,” Tommy slurred, his eyebrows furrowing when he tried to make light of the situation. “He…” there was a pause where Tommy was clearly trying to think of something to make her feel better. Waiting, she realized that he wasn’t coming up with something and she nodded. “I don’t know, Y/N. Joel is weird.”

“Don’t worry about it Tommy, one day this whole thing will get easier. Just, not yet,” she informed Tommy, moving back up to work on the lights again. There was a strong gust of wind that sent a chill throughout her whole body. The ladder wiggled a bit and she looked down to make sure that Tommy was holding onto it.

“Hey,” Tommy blurt out, his eyes now locking on something in the distance when he hesitated, letting go of one part of the ladder. “Maria is over there. Do you think that I should go ask her out on a date? Like a real one?”

“Of course, just give me…” she started only to see that Tommy was swiftly moving away from her while she was trying to finish with the lights that she was putting up in that specific spot. “Tommy!”

Another strong gust of wind filled the air and she realized she needed to get down. This wasn’t going to work. Trying to move down the steps, she felt the ladder slipping out beneath her and attempted to grab onto anything. It must have been the ice that it was slipping on. Even in her best efforts not to fall, her body fell backwards. The only thing for her to fall back on was hard cement. In Tommy’s haste of being excited to ask out the woman he was interested in, he left her to undoubtedly get injured in her fall.

“Jesus,” she gasped, expecting the ground to break her fall only to be surprised that someone caught her before she did. The sound of the ladder hitting the ground was loud, but thankfully she wasn’t hurt. Her adrenaline had just spiked, her heart hammering inside of her chest from the fear of it all.  

“Not quite,” a deep raspy voice pulled her attention away from the ladder. A breath caught in her throat at the familiar set of hazel eyes staring down at her. The strength of the arms squeezed around her and suddenly she felt more comfortable than she should have. “Fuck, I’m back in town ten minutes and you’re already falling for me?”

“Negan,” she whispered, taking a moment to gaze upon the man that her family was talking about only the night before. His long eyelashes fluttered, a small smile tugging at his handsome features when he gave an arrogant bob of his head. “Why are you here?”

“That’s it? Why am I here?” Negan’s nose wrinkled, the sound of amusement coming from his voice. “No thank you for saving my life? You’re my hero Negan?”

“Thank you for saving my life,” she rolled her eyes which was followed by Negan snorting. Carefully he lowered her back down to her feet, still keeping his hands braced over her shoulders to make sure that she was okay. “Tommy just fucking ran away and the wind knocked me down.”

“You really shouldn’t be the one up there doing that anyways,” Negan grumbled under his breath giving the whole set up a scrutinizing look. “This town was always so eager to get up the best of their decorations that they didn’t care how it got done. Tommy should have been the one going up and down. Not you. It was dangerous as it was.”

Silence followed. Y/N was staring at Negan. It had been an extraordinarily long time since she had seen him. The last day she saw him was likely his graduation. Of course she had seen him on the television, in magazines or at the occasional games that they took the children to, but never up close. It became obvious that she was staring at him and she felt a warmth flooding her cheeks.

“God, I’m sorry. I’m staring,” she apologized trying to force herself to look away when Negan’s smile grew twice the size. Arrogance flooded his handsome features with his dimples becoming more prominent knowing that she was locked in on him. “I just can’t believe you are here. It makes me think that I hit my head and I’m imagining this.”

“So if you were dying, you think I would be the person that you would conjure up to help calm you?” Negan rambled, giving her a wink when she groaned out. That was completely like Negan. Nothing much had changed. He just got older and grew a short beard. “I mean, it’s a good thing to picture right before you die. I think a lot of people would do that too.”

“The ego is still strong in you,” she poked at his chest which drew out a deep rumble of laughter from his throat. Almost instinctively, her hand reached up to press in over the side of Negan’s face feeling the coarse hairs of his beard underneath her fingertips. The last time she saw Negan, he had no facial hair. His face wasn’t nearly as chiseled as it was now. There were no lines in his face. Now he kept himself incredibly groomed whereas in the past he would often let his hair grow to the point of slicking it back out of his eyes. Back then he was a boy. Now? He was a man. And a very good-looking man at that. Time had done well for him. He was cute and charming when they were younger. Now? He was incredibly sexy and made time his bitch. The only thing that remained the same were his very prominent dimples that always charmed her. Just now they took her breath away with every big flashy smile he gave her. “God, you look so different.”

“And you look exactly the same,” he gave her a wink, mimicking her hand movement to brush his thumb in over her jawline. It had a chill flooding through her veins and she gave a weak smile. Maybe this was a poor reaction to seeing this man again for the first time. It was too forward. Blunt. But this was someone that she had been so close to in the past standing right before her again after so many years.

“I’m sorry. I was looking at photos of you yesterday so this is just weird for me,” she lowered her hand from his face seeing the intrigue that flooded into Negan’s features. “I don’t mean that in a weird creepy way. I know it sounds like it is. My daughter and her friends just have the biggest crush on you. And it was weirding Joel out. He mentioned us being good friends with you when we were younger and she didn’t believe him, so he was showing her pictures…”

“Ah, Joel Miller. How is the husband doing?” Negan stammered, dragging his hand away from her, taking a firm step backwards. Getting a good look at Negan now, she realized that he was dressed in mostly black. He was wearing black boots, a black pair of slacks and a long black coat that covered most of his chest. It just revealed a black sweater that he was wearing that had a white undershirt beneath it giving it a slight contrast of color. Pushing his hands into his pockets, Negan’s dimples immediately drew her attention when he smiled.

“Well,” she considered what to say next feeling her throat tensing up. Why wouldn’t she be honest in this moment? Lying to Negan would do nothing for her in the long run. “He’s not my husband anymore. We’ve been divorced for three years and separated for four.”

“Oh,” Negan’s lips parted, his mouth turning into a small o-shape as if he felt bad for saying it like that. The charismatic attitude was soon replaced with empathy and that surprised her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know that.”

“Why would you? There is no reason for you to apologize,” she refused to have him feel bad for that. Lifting her hand she showed that she was no longer wearing her rings and shrugged her shoulders. What could she really say? She wasn’t about to have a meltdown about it in front of Negan. So instead she tried to blow things off with a joke. “Divorce is the number one killer of marriage.”

“Right,” Negan snorted, his head lowering in amusement. Just the sight of his smile caused her heart to skip a beat. How was it that his dimples were even more attractive now than they were when they were young?

“What about Lucille?” she questioned noticing the way that Negan’s eyebrows bounced up, his Adam’s apple tensing in his throat when he gazed her over. “I know the two of you were married since my daughter knows…a lot about you.”

“She uh…she passed away,” Negan paused, his face tensing up when he reached for something around his neck. Pulling it out from beneath the shirt, Negan stepped forward and she realized that it was a necklace. At the bottom of it were three rings. Immediately she regretted her joke and felt horrible for asking. Mortified would be an understatement. “Cancer. The second leading cause of killing marriages.”

“Jesus Negan,” she felt immediately embarrassed seeing the way he shrugged his shoulders. Now she regretted making a joke. There was some color that flooded into his face and guilt started to eat away at her. “I feel like the biggest fucking asshole in the world right now. I am so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Negan hushed her, lifting his right hand to wave it about. “You didn’t know. I don’t know how much you pay attention to things. I tried keeping my private life, well, private. Fucking tried at least. I was never really very public about my life. So maybe your daughter didn’t even know. And I shouldn’t expect you to know because we haven’t talked in so fucking long. We’re pretty much strangers.”

“Shit,” she felt terrible for everything and just wished the world would swallow her whole right now. “I wish I wouldn’t have said what I did. It’s the first time I’ve seen you in so long and I made an ass of myself. In multiple ways.”

“Fuck, don’t worry about it. I’m just happy that I was walking by just at the right time to catch you,” Negan gave her a wink, and in that moment he noticed that she looked worried. “What is it?”

“You’re hurt. Your knee,” she pointed down and it had an amused expression flooding into Negan’s features. “I probably just hurt you more by having you catch me. I can’t believe…”

“Some knee pain is better than watching someone I knew and cared for smashing their skull against the cement,” Negan stepped forward to place his finger in over her lips to silence her worries. Shaking his head, he gave her a wink before letting out a long sigh. “I’m back in town visiting my mother for the holidays. It’s my second Christmas without Lucille and my mother thought it would be for the best if I came home to see my family for the holidays. And with me being injured, I thought it would be a good idea too. Come home. Rest it out.”

“That makes sense,” she acknowledged, not saying much because she didn’t want to make an ass of herself again. Things felt strange now as she rocked on her feet in front of Negan. All she could focus on was just how good he looked. Suddenly she felt very out of place knowing that she just kind of rolled out of bed this morning. “I guess I should let you get back to what you were doing. I don’t want to keep you tied up all day.”

“Well, I got here early,” Negan stated with a tip of his head, looking beyond them to see the coffee shop that was in the distance. “How about you and I get some coffee together? We can catch up a little bit before I have to head to my mother’s place?”

“I mean,” she looked back at the lights that were kind of just dangling there still. Right now she really didn’t feel like climbing back up that ladder again after almost dying. “Sure, that would be nice. Coffee sounds good.”

“Ma’am,” Negan held his arm out, a small snickering sound fell from his lips when she accepted his arm. It was as if Negan had picked up on the fact that there was a small sheet of ice over the ground and he was trying to help keep her from falling. Again. Once they got to the coffee shop, Negan held the door open for her and she was impressed with the chivalry. The only problem? When Negan entered the coffee shop, the few people that were in there went a little nuts upon seeing them. Immediately people were drawn to him and she understood why. Negan was a celebrity. And not only that, he was a hometown hero celebrity. So she took a step back while people asked for selfies with him and let it happen. Eventually he ordered his coffee and reached for her hand to pull her up beside him. “Go ahead. I’ll pay for this.”

“You don’t have to do that,” she denied at first, not wanting to seem like the kind of person that would take advantage of him. But the glare Negan gave her? She knew that one well. So she gave in. Placed her order and let him go ahead with wanting to buy her one. When the barista came back with their coffees, Negan attempted to pay, but she pushed the drinks forward to them insisting that they were on the house. With that, Negan left what he would have been paying in the tip jar and led Y/N toward the back of the coffee shop where there was a table that was hidden for them to have some privacy. “Wow, that was…”

“Intense. I’m sorry,” Negan shook his head, apologizing over the fact that people interrupted them by asking for photos. It seemed to have embarrassed him that it happened in front of her while they were together.  

It should have been something that he was proud of. Having people look up to him like that? It was a good thing. Not a bad one.

“No, don’t apologize. You worked hard for all of that. Soak it in,” she stated with a firm shake of her head, surprising him that she wasn’t at all upset about the whole thing. “It’s nice just getting to see you Negan. There is no reason for me to be upset. It’s been a long time.”

“I’m sorry about that,” Negan apologized again. It was strange how many times he had already done that since she had first seen him. And there was nothing to keep apologizing for. Stroking his hand across the top of the table, Negan seemed tense until he started speaking up again. “I have to be honest with you Y/N, I’m surprised to see you here. No one wanted to leave this town more than you did. You had dreams of the big city. I remember you wanted to travel the world, photograph it all and you wanted to be a big-time journalist.”

“Yeah, well, life has a way of making you realize that what you want isn’t always what you’re going to get,” she declared which seemed to have Negan biting at his cheek. There was an expression in his eyes that showed he had sympathy for her and she didn’t know if she wanted it. “When I had Elizabeth, the plans kind of changed. I’m just…I’m someone who does data entry at home. I get to work remote and sometimes I have to go into the office, but rarely.”

“And Elizabeth is your daughter?” Negan confirmed having Y/N nod, stroking her fingers over the paper coffee cup that her drink was in. “How old is she again?”

“Seventeen,” Y/N felt old telling Negan that, but her answer made him smile and nod. “I also have a son named Peter. He’s thirteen.”

“Peter,” Negan repeated the name, his smile expanding out over his features. “Elizabeth and Peter. Well, Joel certainly picked out those names, didn’t he?”

“What do you mean?” she half-laughed watching Negan tip his head from side to side considering his next comment.

“Well, I remember growing up what you wanted to name your children if you had any. Elizabeth and Peter were not any of the names that you wanted,” Negan recalled which had her dropping her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. Of all the things that Negan remembered, she didn’t think something like that would be something he kept with him. “What?”

“I just can’t believe you remember those conversations,” she claimed, her heart fluttering a bit that Negan still remembered so much about her. “But yeah. Those were names that Joel picked. It’s suits them though. Joel calls Elizabeth Ellie. He always has. She’s of course getting to the age where she wants to be called…”

Seeing that Negan’s attention was locked on her had her sighing loudly, “You don’t want to hear about this. I’m sorry. I’m just a boring working-class mother. I’m not interesting. At all. I wish I had the life that I wanted when I was younger so I could impress you, but I don’t.”

“Don’t say that,” Negan hushed, reaching out to place his hand in over hers. The warmth of his touch was very much welcomed, even though she didn’t know if she should be taking it or not. “I think you’re very interesting. And I’d love to hear about your children. It’s been a long time. I don’t expect you not to talk about your life to me after this long.”

“It’s just a little embarrassing to basically tell you I got pregnant the year after you graduated,” she suggested feeling the sweep of Negan’s thumb over the back of her hand. “You went out, became this huge celebrity and followed your dreams. I got pregnant at seventeen, had my baby at eighteen and I’ve just been doing my best to keep my head over the water.”

“You’re embarrassed by that?” Negan wondered seeing her shrug and he could tell that it made her uncomfortable. “Being a mother is the hardest job in the world. If you are capable of doing it? I think that’s impressive. So don’t be embarrassed. You’re not going to get me looking down on you. Ever.”

“Thank you,” she cleared her throat knowing that she felt small sitting before the man she used to consider her best friend. “I did call you a few times. Well, a very long time ago. I understand why you didn’t answer. You were busy and…”

“I should have answered,” Negan interrupted her, his thick eyebrows furrowing showing that he was disappointed with himself. “I’m sorry.”

Silence followed, her eyes looking down to see that Negan’s thumb was still caressing over the back of her hand, “I missed you.”

Something changed in Negan’s expression. He lowered his head, his fingers squeezing tighter to hers before he shrugged, “I missed you too.”

“It’s hard going through life without your best friend,” she suggested feeling a bit emotional knowing that she never really understood what happened to have Negan drop her so quickly in the past. Especially after all they had gone through. “I’m so proud of you though. You accomplished everything you wanted to. Rookie of the year? MVP how many times? You’ve done amazing, Negan.”

“And it’s all coming to an end,” Negan frowned, looking down toward his knee knowing that even though he still felt like he was capable of so much more, his body wouldn’t allow for it. Lifting Y/N’s hand up, he pressed a kiss over the back of her hand and gave her a wink. “Thank you though.”

They both went quiet. It got very serious there for a moment and Negan picked up on it when he reached with his free hand to grab his coffee to take a sip, “So what happened with Joel? I remember he got a full ride to college for the football.”

“Oh, he uh. He had to turn it down. His parents died during the summer in an accident. He had the choice of letting Tommy go into foster care or staying to take care of him and he stayed. Then I got pregnant with Elizabeth and it just didn’t work out for him,” she told Negan about their lives knowing that it was nowhere near as interesting as his life. “He just took on his dad’s business and became a contractor. He runs the business and Tommy works for him. I was a stay-at-home mom for a while until I could go to night school at college to get my degree and then my friend from college got me a job that I’ve stayed with until this day. We’re both worried about Elizabeth because she scares the hell out of us. She’s almost the age I was when I got pregnant, but she’s…she’s smarter than me. And safer. And I don’t think she’s dating anyone really. She seems to be attracted to older men, which isn’t good, but, it’s not bad either because then it means that she’s not going to get pregnant like I did and…”

Damn. She was doing it again. She was rambling. But by the look on Negan’s face, it wasn’t upsetting him. In fact, he looked enamored with her. A rush of warmth flooded into her face and she laughed, dropping her head down, “God, I’m sorry.”

“Stop,” Negan demanded with a raspy laugh himself. “I don’t mind you talking to me. It’s okay. You don’t have to think you’re talking too much. We’re fitting like, what? Nineteen years of missed time in here. So I don’t mind.”

“I know, you just are the more interesting one and here I am talking your head off,” she chastised herself which had Negan smiling. “You probably have better things to do than listen to me go off about my family and my children.”

“I don’t. And this is better than anything else I had planned,” Negan tried to suggest, squeezing her hand again reminding her all over how he had been holding onto her hand this whole time. But she kind of liked it. “I’ve picked up on the fact that your daughter has good taste. You love your kids and Joel is…an idiot.”

“Why is that?” she was amused to hear Negan say that.

“Because he’s not with you,” he countered quickly which had her feeling a sense of awe over him saying it. “I really thought the two of you would be together forever. Knowing that you’ve been apart for four years? That surprises me.”

“Well, life happens,” she didn’t know what else to say. She wasn’t about to vent to Negan just what it was that had her marriage crumbling down all around her. That wasn’t something he needed her to dump onto his lap as well. “We just became different people.”

“Hmmm…” Negan looked her over before shaking his head. “You seem still very much like you.”

“Minus the fire,” she thought aloud, noticing the way his eyebrow arched.

“Nah, that fire is there. I see it. Maybe it’s just hidden behind a few walls, but it’s there,” he winked hearing her chuckle beneath her breath before shaking her head. “Don’t think so poorly of yourself. You were always one of my favorite people Y/N. Don’t sell yourself short.”

“Negan goddamn Smith,” a voice boomed, shocking Y/N when she pulled her hand back and away from Negan who made a shocked expression looking to the side. “I thought that was you, you asshole.”

“Tommy fucking Miller,” Negan got up slowly from his seat, walking across to accept a hug from Tommy. “How are you doing brother? It’s been a long time?”

“Not as good as you,” Tommy leaned back, smacking playfully at the side of Negan’s face making him snort. “Look at how much older you look.”

“Hey now, you may have the same face, but you don’t look like the thirteen-year-old I last saw either,” Negan joked, pushing into Tommy’s shoulder. Lifting his hand up, he swirled his fingers into Tommy’s long hair. “Look at you pretty boy. Growing up into a man and everything.”

“I see Y/N found you and snatched you up,” Tommy followed Negan back over to the table, a big smile tugging at his features when he sat in beside Y/N who suddenly felt out of place. “Shit Negan. I can’t believe I’m seeing you. The big-time sport’s star that everyone in this town loves.”

“Well, I am retiring,” Negan reminded Tommy who rolled his eyes and scoffed. “I am!”

“Come on,” Tommy threw his hand up hearing Negan sigh loudly. “You are one tough son of a bitch. I’m supposed to believe that you aren’t going to nut up and just keep going?”

“As you said, I’m getting old dickhead,” Negan winked hearing Tommy burst out into laughter. There was amusement in Y/N’s features and when Negan noticed it, he gave her a big smile. “I was just catching up with Y/N here and she was telling me about the kids.”

“Did she tell you what a saint she is?” Tommy stressed, reaching out to wrap his arm around Y/N to give her a big squeeze. “This girl adopted me at eighteen. Had a baby of her own but took care of fifteen-year-old me to make sure I had a good life at home. She’s an amazing girl. A great mom and she bakes like you would not believe.”

“Oh yeah?” Negan’s interest suddenly was taken. Placing his hand over his chest, Negan made a dramatic expression. “I myself love to cook. So if someone has that same passion? Well, I’m immediately interested in learning more.”

“She’s a magic worker this one. Makes the best sugar cookies I’ve ever had,” Tommy declared with another big smile, squeezing her uncomfortably close to his chest. “I always tell Joel what an idiot he was for letting her slip through his fingers. If it wasn’t creepy, I would have gone for her because she is so special.”

“Okay Tommy. You’re laying it on thick,” she found amusement in the way that Tommy was describing her, but he didn’t care. He just gave her a small nudge with his shoulder before going back to talking with Negan.

Quickly Tommy got to talking to Negan about baseball and Negan answered his questions. Listening to them was amusing. She did actually know what they were talking about since Joel, Elizabeth and Peter all loved baseball. But instead of adding to the conversation, she just sat back and listened. Finding it cute that the two of them were eager to catch up.

After a while, Tommy looked to Y/N noticing that she was just sitting there listening to the two of them, “I reckon I just hijacked your conversation, didn’t I?”

“I’m loving it,” she stated with a small smile hearing Negan snorting and she shrugged. “I was talking too much anyways.”

“Not enough in my opinion,” Negan gave her a wink, his nose wrinkling in amusement. Taking a sip of his coffee, Negan got more comfortable in his seat and bit down on his bottom lip. “I know you know sports just as much as the boys do.”

“Yeah? So? Let Tommy get his time in with you. The boy looked up to you growing up,” she reached out to pat Tommy on the chest having his cheeks flushing over with warmth. “We’re both happy to see you, Negan.”

A vibration pulled her attention away from the two of them. Digging into her pocket, she saw that it was Elizabeth calling her and it made her sigh, “Give me a minute boys. My daughter is calling.”

Getting up from the table, she noticed that Negan’s hazel eyes followed her across the coffee shop as she made her way outside to answer her phone.

“Hey sweetheart,” she leaned back against the brick wall, letting out a long sigh. “Those photos you took looked really nice. It looks like you had fun.”

“It wasn’t so bad,” Elizabeth claimed, her young voice flooding from Y/N’s phone. “The guy they have as Santa this year is from the next town over and he was a lot of fun. I wish you would have been here with us to take the photo.”

“Me too,” Y/N was honest with her daughter. She missed doing those things as a family. It made her feel extraordinarily left out. Rosita had suggested to her in the past that she should also do photos with the children for Christmas, but part of Y/N assumed that Joel would get upset because that was his thing with them. Especially since they used to have fights like that in the beginning of their separation.

“That’s kind of why I’m calling you,” Elizabeth spoke up, taking time to explain to her mother what was on her mind. “Dad decided that we should go to that old village we used to go to when we were younger. You know the one that does the Christmas event with the fireworks? My friends were going to it and I thought it would be cool to go too.”

“Oh, that’s great honey,” Y/N commented feeling a sense of jealousy hearing that. That was another thing they did as a family. The place that Elizabeth was talking about was a place that her, Joel and Negan all worked at when they were younger to make cash on the side. So they were always going to that Christmas event with the children. Although, the last two years of their marriage, Joel had been working late on a project that had him missing it so they hadn’t really gone in over six years. “I’m glad to hear that your dad is taking you. When are you going?”

“Tonight. But, dad spoke to the guy in charge who still remembered him. So he gave dad a bunch of free tickets. We both get to bring a friend,” Elizabeth continued on, “but we have one other ticket and dad said I should call you to ask if you wanted to go.”

“Is that something your dad really wants?” Y/N inquired, surprised to hear that Joel wanted her to be involved with their Christmas activities since the previous years he made sure to leave her out.

“Well he’s the one that suggested it mom,” Elizabeth declared with a sigh and it had Y/N shifting on her feet. “Both Peter and I want you to come. This goes back to the whole being a family again thing. At least, this is the closest we can get to it being like the old days again.”

“You both begged your dad, didn’t you?” Y/N insisted hearing the silence that followed and it made her smile. “That’s a yes.”

“Well he didn’t say no,” Elizabeth pointed out with a dramatic tone. “He’s the one that insisted I call you right now so you can prepare to come with us tonight. Dad will pick you up at five, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Y/N smiled realizing that she wasn’t about to really be given a choice, but ultimately her choice would have been the same. She missed being with her family for Christmas, so it wasn’t like she was going to turn it down. “I’ll be ready to go by five.”

“Perfect,” Elizabeth seemed happy and excited on the other end, which was a good thing in Y/N’s mind. At least her children still wanted to spend time with her and that’s what mattered the most. “We’ll see you then. Make sure you dress warm. It’s supposed to snow tonight.”

“I will,” Y/N assured her daughter having a warmth flood her body knowing that she wouldn’t be alone tonight. The idea of going to this actually made her happy. Too often she got used to being alone, but it didn’t feel good. Now she had something to look forward to in being with her children. “I love you honey.”

“Love you too mom,” Elizabeth got out before they ended their call.

As Y/N was pushing her phone back into her pocket, she saw that Negan was walking out of the coffee shop and once his eyes locked with hers he gave her a big, charming smile.

“Got sick of Tommy?” she teased with Negan stepping before her. Having Negan leaving the coffee shop that quick shocked her. Especially since they wanted to catch up and they really hadn’t done much of it.

“Not at all. There were some people that asked for photos and then the mayor came in,” Negan pointed back toward the coffee shop. Hearing that made Y/N wonder how Tommy responded and she looked to the door to check if Tommy was coming out. “The mayor asked me to go somewhere with him to take some photos, but Tommy is talking to him right now so I figured I would find you before you could run off.”

“Well, you found me,” she gave him a half smile causing Negan’s eyebrow to arch in amusement. Disappointment flooded her veins knowing that someone else was taking Negan away from her being able to catch up with him. “What’s up?”

“I want us to spend more time together than this,” Negan announced pointing toward her pocket where she just put her phone. “I was hoping that maybe you could give me your phone, I’ll put my number in and then in two days you can let me take you to dinner. That way we can actually have time to talk. Just the two of us.”

“That’s something you want to do?” she thought aloud, almost blurting it out. Holding his hand out further, Negan waited for her to give him her phone. Obeying, she placed it in his hand drawing him to smirk. Damn, there were those dimples again. “I’m sure you’re going to be busy. You don’t have to take time for me.”

Working with her phone, Negan put in his number and then sent himself a text so he would have her number on his phone. Holding her phone out to her had Y/N accepting it and Negan cleared his throat, shifting his weight from his heels then toward the tips of his toes.

“I want to take time for you,” Negan informed her, a muscle at the corner of his jaw flexing. Hearing that actually made her happy. “I’m glad that we ran into each other.”

“Technically, I fell into your arms,” she reminded him and it had his deep raspy laughter filling the air.

“You’re not wrong,” Negan agreed, biting down on his bottom lip. Reaching back, he stroked his fingers over his neck and shrugged. “When we have our dinner, don’t be afraid to talk to me this time. I’m still Negan. Not much has changed.”

“So much has changed,” she refused that statement with a shake of her head. Parting his lips, Negan looked like he wanted to say something more, but stopped himself. A single nod from him told her that he wasn’t going to bicker with her about it. “But I will try to relax.”

“Good, because I want to listen to you talk,” Negan clarified how he felt about things, his Adam’s apple bouncing in his throat. “We used to stay up all night talking about things. And those are the days that I miss. I’d like to bring a little bit of that back into my life again.”

“I’m sure your life is filled with very interesting people,” she guessed, realizing how small she probably was in comparison to the other people that he knew in his life. It was safe to say that her self-esteem wasn’t the best right now. So selling herself short? That was something she did quite often as of the last few years.

“But none of them are you,” Negan stressed with a nod of his head. Stepping forward, Negan lowered down. Pressing in closer to her, his lips deposited a kiss against her cheek. Closing her eyes tightly, she realized that the gesture lingered. The warmth from Negan radiated against her flesh and it took her breath away. It had been so long since someone had showed her any kind of affection. Backing away slowly, Negan’s eyes gazed over her and she felt her heart skip a beat with how close he actually was to her.

“Negan,” the sound of someone calling out to him broke their attention on one another. Stealing a glance back over his shoulder, Negan feigned a smile when he realized that it was the mayor calling out to him. Looking back to Y/N, Negan felt guilty that he was taking off on her so quickly. Backstepping toward the mayor, Negan hummed to himself and pointed at her. “I’ll pick you up at eight the night we go out. And I’ll send you a text just to remind you. So you don’t forget.”

“I’ll see you then,” she responded with a shallow breath still feeling the sensation of his kiss over her cheek. When Negan left, Y/N watched Tommy push open the door of the coffee shop. He looked panicked as he headed back over toward her. “If it isn’t the man that almost killed me today.”

“I…what?” Tommy was at a loss for words when she folded her arms out in front of her chest. Even though she was happy to see him interacting with Negan like he was previously, she was still irritated with him for taking off on her earlier. While it didn’t end badly, it sure as hell could have. “You almost died?”

“I would have likely ended up in the hospital with brain damage if Negan hadn’t caught me,” she recalled and it had Tommy’s dark eyes growing wide. Her getting hurt wasn’t even a thought for him when he left earlier. “You left when I was on the ladder and it slipped.”

“I didn’t even think,” Tommy swore reaching out to place his hands in over her shoulders to try to comfort her. “I’m so sorry. I just saw Maria and I wanted to talk to her so bad.”

“I hope you at least asked her out? Because then me dying almost feels like a waste if you didn’t,” she huffed and it had the beginning of a smile tugging at Tommy’s features. By the expression over his face she could tell that he was happy which meant he did get that date. “That’s my boy.”

“I’d love to take credit for it,” Tommy moved in beside her to hook his arm around her shoulders, “but she asked me first. I was trying to ask her, but when I ran into her I think she picked up on my nervousness. We’re going to be having dinner tonight.”

“A woman that takes charge. That’s exactly what you need,” she joked with Tommy, reaching out to grab his jaw to give it a playful squeeze. “I’m going with Joel and the kids tonight to that Christmas event at the old historical village we used to work at. So we both need to get those lights up.”

“You’re going out with Joel and the kids tonight?” Tommy seemed shocked to hear that. And really? She didn’t blame him. There had been such a big wedge between her and Joel for so long that them actually spending time together with the children sounded strange. “Maybe Joel is getting his shit together after all.”

“I think the children begged him,” she wasn’t so certain that it was as much Joel wanting her there as much as it was the children irritating him to ask her. “But I’m glad I’m going because it gets lonely at night without the children there. I can only bother Rosita so many times before Siddiq gets sick of me stealing his fiancée.”

“This is a good thing,” Tommy led her back toward where they were last together noticing that the lights were just hanging from the building and he frowned. “You’re gonna make me go up there now, aren’t you?”

“I sure am,” she nodded toward the ladder hearing Tommy groan in response. “But don’t worry, unlike you, I’m not going to run away the second I get sights at something more interesting.”

----

Tags: @chainsawsangel @fancypeacepersona @violent-darkness @negansbestie @elegantfanficluv

@sanctuaryforthelost @dead-of-niight @dilfsandmartinis

[fraudulent-cheese]

Fuck it, here's another post with a bunch of TD headcanons!

Gwen has sharp nails, like claws almost. They're not even that long most of the time

She also has pretty bad Rejection Sensetive Dysphoria, but she's working on it (and without being filmed!)

Ellody's major is in astrophysics, while Mary's is in Architecture

Trent would definitely love Alex G's music. Zoey would also like Alex G's music

If the two world tour newbies were to participate in the Awake-A-Thon, they would have widely different performances; Alejandro would not do well at the challenge whatsoever, he'd loose before the 48h mark by like ten hours. Sierra on the other hand is used to having a complete shit garbage sleep schedule and could probably handle a week without sleep if she had something she could fixate on

Dakota slightly glows in the dark, most obviously seen in her eyes, hair and skin (or at least, the skin not covered by scales or fur). It's phosphorescent, so she cannot see in the dark, nor could she use herself as a light source, but it's still neat.

Speaking of glowing in the dark, Alejandro's eyes glow in the dark in the same way a cat's eyes does in pictures. He's just built different. This has freaked at least one other person in the cast.

Izzy would be strong enough to convince Courtney to do weed. Unstopable Force VS Immovable wall.

Cinderhella (the person Noah's mentionned in his TDWT bio) is Kitty. This is just because i think Kitty and Noah being online friends is cute

SPEAKING OF WHICH, i think Kitty at some point would probably stream herself playing FNAF 2 or something to Noah and at first he'd probably only watch it because 1. she's his friend and 2. he's doing it 'ironically' (he will genuinely get into it). Incidentally Kitty's pretty good at whatever game she'd stream

Bridgette and Fin from Stoked are friends, they met the year before TDI since they were attending the same surfing resort.

I don't think Sierra would be scared of spiders whatsoever. They could crawl on her face and she'd barely react

The one thing Duncan and Heather have in common? They'd fucking celebrate when their parents FINALLY divorce.

Ella can imitate bird calls perfectly >:)

[sentientsky]

tah-dah ✨✨ Crowley in casual wear, as requested by @fearandhatred (ty for the brainworms. i’m in tears). this is more of a loose sketch bc I’m very busy, but whatever lol

(also, i’m obsessed with the idea of Crowley being so stressed that he self-actualizes the growth of grey hairs)

alternate/meme versions below the cut

[buddiesmutslut]

I know I've said it before, but I think this upcoming episode is going to be so interesting, even if we don't get Queer Eddie OR BT Bones (neither of which I'm fully convinced are going to happen on Thursday), & it's really for this one interesting phrase that Ryan & Oliver have both used.

They have both mentioned "rose-colored glasses" when it comes to Tommy & Shannon, and I would argue that they each have to reckon with these relationships before we can have any movement towards Buddie.

Eddie thinks that Shannon was the love of his life, that he failed her and has to carry that guilt with him for the rest of his life. I believe that Eddie placing Shannon on a pedestal is partially what's stopping him from realizing his queerness (along with the catholic guilt and repression, but a lot of that is also tied up in Shannon & their failed marriage.)

Buck's convinced that his big feelings last season were all about Tommy, and I'm not saying that some of them weren't, but I don't think it'd be too far of a stretch to say that he figures that he's in this relationship now and that obviously everything is fine now. He figured out this part of himself and he's dating a man and that means everything is Fine and he absolutely does not need to do any further digging or searching or learning, despite the fact that he and Tommy don't really seem to like each other all that much, nor do they seem to be all that compatible.

Buck has to reckon with the fact that realizing his bisexuality and immediately jumping into a relationship with a man that he wasn't even sure he wanted (his speech at the coffee date) might not be the solution to all the problems he's had, and Eddie has to deal with the fact that Shannon was not perfect, that what she did was not the same as what he did, that she's responsible for her own actions and that this romanticized vision he has clung to of their lives is not real and is not consistent with the actual relationship that they had.

There's a Divorce Arc this episode - which I'm begging does something with Eddie - and an uncomfortable truth learned about Tommy's past; it's not completely out of left field to assume that the Rose-Colored Glasses come off this episode.

And the fact that it's happening for them BOTH, at the same time? In the relationships that I think are the biggest obstacles to them realizing/accepting their feelings for each other???

I'm never fully convinced they're actually going to go there with these 2, but it will be SO interesting to see how this episode plays out, regardless.

[herawell]

.

[widevibratobitch]

aaaaaaand it's starting. mom's bestie just texted me asking to come over this weekend cause it's Bad and it's probably the last chance to talk and maybe say goodbye to my mom's husband and i need to take care of her. god. i wont get through this weekend unless im high or drunk istg.

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

the pro

part ii: what we're willing to accept

Pairing: Art Donaldson x Reader

Rating: Explicit - 18+ only. minors, please get off my lawn.

Notes: My brain chose violence this morning. Not beta-read because when is it ever.

Length: 4.8K

Warnings: Slow burn; unhappily married reader; divorced Art Donaldson; infidelity; oral sex (female receiving); vaginal sex; unsafe sex

Summary: Every lesson becomes an exercise in self-control. You force yourself to try, really try, and not make silly mistakes for the sake of Art coming closer, grasping your arm or elbow, pressing close and redirecting your swing. You don’t know what you crave more these days: his praise or his touch.

He's the biggest men's tennis star since Andy Roddick.

That’s what your husband says, as if it’ll entice you. As if you know anything about tennis, about the pro that your husband says will be coming to the house to teach you to play.

It’ll be good for you. You need a hobby. 

You don’t gripe or argue. You don’t tell him that five months into your marriage shouldn’t have you looking for a new hobby. You should still be in the honeymoon stage, spending all of your time with him, hanging off of his arm, off of his every word. But he works so much and he’s away so often—

I don’t want you to get bored. 

It’s a sweet gesture. The maid handles the housework; you have a chef that handles most of the grocery shopping and cooking, unless you insist on making something yourself; you have a housekeeper that arranges for anything you need—dry cleaning, maintenance. And it’s no wonder that with all of his money, his power, he can just order a retired pro tennis player up to your house, like you’d order a pizza. There’s a tennis court in the back of the mansion, a few feet from the pool. You’ll get some new outfits, the best sneakers, the nicest rackets. You’ll finally have something to do to fill your days. 

Art Donaldson. 

You know his name before the lean, fair-skinned patrician man turns up at your front door. He trails you through the house, politely declines your offer of a beverage. 

“You ever played tennis before?” He asks. 

You haven’t. Before your husband arranged this for you, you hadn’t so much as given the sport more than a passing thought. You don’t have the heart or confidence to tell that to a man that’s made tennis his whole life, so you just give him a small, guilty smile and say no, you haven’t. He nods, waves you off, insists that it’s fine. 

“We’ll start with the basics.” 

-- 

Two months of lessons on the basics make your arms tired, and your hands sore. But where your swings are clumsy and your grip is weak at first, you can see improvement in the way that you move. Your steps are less clumsy when you go after a ball; you’re more aware of the service line and the base line; your forehand stroke from contact to your left shoulder is smoother; your rotation and follow-through on your backhand is coming along, but has a long way to go. 

Art’s instruction is calm and steady. He explains technique as much as he demonstrates it. When you get something wrong, he doesn’t scold, just lightly corrects. When you do something well, his encouragement is constant and free-flowing. Every accurate move and motion is met with, “Nice,” or, “Perfect,” or, “That’s it.” 

On the days when you don’t have a lesson with Art, you practice. You order a tennis ball machine to work on your forehand and backhand. You attempt (and fail) to learn how to slice on your own. You try anyway—you can only imagine the way his eyes might light up if you manage to surprise him. 

You’ve tried to ignore the rising interest that you have in Art, but you can’t help the little…Crush that’s developed. He’s just so attentive, and kind. When you find yourself smiling these days, it’s often because of something that he said, or did. You can’t remember the last time your husband made you feel giddy this way. It was probably when you started dating—before you’d made the decision to marry for comfort, rather than love. Your husband is practical, rarely physically affectionate, more heavily involved in his job and social circles than with you. 

But you’ll have to find a way to thank him. He’s given you a hobby, and a man that grins at you like you just painted the goddamn Mona Lisa when you serve your first ace. 

-- 

“So, tell me about the Mark Rebellato Academy.” 

Art smiles, dipping his head as he reaches for his coffee. It’s taken a few months, but you finally convince him to have something to drink with you after practice. Your chef is blessedly out shopping for ingredients for dinner, so you have the kitchen all to yourself. Art has watched you putter around, seeming surprised that you know where everything is. You can’t blame him; the kitchen is chef-grade, and you don’t cook much these days. 

“Did your husband tell you that’s where I went?” 

“No.” 

“Then how do you know?” 

You’re too embarrassed to admit that you’ve done some googling, and watched a couple of clips of him interviewing before and after his matches. 

“I’ve just heard,” You fib. “Tell me about it?” 

He leans back in his seat, eyes skating across your face as he seems to consider something. 

“What do you wanna know?” 

“Did you enjoy it? I mean—” It feels like a dumb question once it’s out, and you hurry to redirect, “With what you know now, if you had the choice, would you have learned how to play tennis somewhere else?” 

He considers for a moment, trailing his finger over the side of his cup. Your gaze flits to his fingers, and your own flex around your mug handle. You’ve spent far too much time looking at and thinking about Art’s fingers—their length and quickness; the slight roughness of his calloused hands; the lingering tan line from where his wedding band used to sit. 

“Yeah,” He admits, drawing your full attention back to his face. “I would. It was foundational, you know. I’ve been thinking of sending Lily there.” 

“Lily?” 

A bittersweet smile twists his lips. “My daughter.” 

“Oh!” It catches you off-guard.  

“Tashi, uh—” He clears his throat, “Lily’s mother, my ex-wife. She and I are thinking about schools.” 

“I’m sure they’d be glad to have her. Does she play tennis?” 

“Little bit. She didn’t start until last year, but she's a natural.” He clears his throat again, presses, “Are you and your husband planning on having kids?” 

“Oh god no.” You blurt it out, and realize as he raises his brows that you’ve spoken too quickly. You lean back in your seat, stirring your coffee quickly to distract yourself from your growing embarrassment. “He actually has kids already. Two girls, seven and ten. They’re at boarding school and they stay with their mother when they're on vacation. I haven’t gotten to spend much time with them.” 

“...He seems to be pretty busy.” 

“He is.” 

“So it’s just you in this big house?” He tips his head to the side, brows knitting with curiosity. “What do you do all day?” 

“Play tennis.”

He grins, chuckling, and your stomach flips at the sound. 

“It shows, you know,” He says. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I can tell you’re practicing without me. And,” He leans across the table, running his fingers lightly over the exposed skin of your bicep, “You’re getting stronger.” 

You wonder if he can see or feel the goosebumps that break out across your skin at the gentle sweep, his gaze heavy on yours.

“I have a good teacher,” You murmur. Art’s lips twitch with a soft smile, his hand gently cupping your arm. 

“Just good?” He plies. 

“The best. A real pro.” 

His smile widens, and the flash of his tongue sweeping across his lower lip makes your face go hot. You know that you’re caught when Art’s touch becomes firmer, pulling your arm toward him just a little. 

The sound of approaching footsteps startles you, and you hurriedly tug your arm away. The sight of your husband makes your heart leap into your throat. 

“There you are,” He smiles. “Art, how’s she doin’?” 

“She’s killing it.” 

You don’t dare look at him, but you can feel the weight of his attention lingering on you still. You just give your husband a smile, tipping your cheek up obligingly as he leans down to kiss it. 

“Actually, Art,” Your husband straightens up, hands resting on your shoulders. “I’m glad I caught you. There’s a charity event for a local club this month. It’s for uh…What is it?” He squeezes your shoulders for answers, and you have to keep from rolling your eyes. 

“It’s a charity tennis match to raise funds to fix up the local courts. They need resurfacing and they’re raising funding to keep the fees down.” 

“We could use a sponsorship from the foundation,” Your husband adds. 

“Honey,” You glance back, wary of insulting Art. But—

“I’ll do it,” Art agrees. “Send me the details.” 

“Excellent,” Your husband grins. “Maybe we could coax you into a match or two.” 

You don’t chastise him this time—not when you see something light up in Art.

“Maybe.” 

--  

You haven’t seen Art play before. You’ve specifically avoided it. You’ve known that when you saw it, you would be too intimidated to do a damn thing on the court with him. But now, you can’t stop watching him. You don’t even care that you probably look so out of place—where everyone else is watching the ball, you’re just watching him. 

His movements are so neat, so precise. It’s like watching a dance. He’s running the poor guy on the other side of the net up and down the court. And the sounds that he’s making—god. Every little grunt and groan is weaving increasingly filthy thoughts in your mind. You already know that you’ll seek out the memory of those sounds, as you reach between your legs later. His shirt clings to his chest, showcasing the muscles that you’ve always suspected he has. Strands of hair plaster to his forehead as sweat drips over his cheekbones, down the bridge of his nose, over his jaw. 

When he scores a match point and he looks toward the cheering crowd—when his eyes land on you instantly, without having to search—it’s like you’ve been hit by a bolt of lightning. You can’t think, or move. You barely have the focus to applaud, but you manage to raise your hands and clap. 

-- 

Every lesson becomes an exercise in self-control. You force yourself to try, really try, and not make silly mistakes for the sake of Art coming closer, grasping your arm or elbow, pressing close and redirecting your swing. You don’t know what you crave more these days: his praise or his touch. 

Coffee becomes a post-lesson ritual. He starts to stick closer and closer to you as he follows you into the house until he begins to rest his hand on your lower back, guiding you to your door. He keeps nearby when you’re making it, brushes droplets of sweat off of your forehead or neck. Every touch is electrifying; you have to make a concentrated effort to keep your hands steady, your face neutral as your heart pounds and your stomach floods with butterflies. 

He pushes you harder on the court, and you force yourself to meet the level that he sets for you, even when you don’t feel confident in it. But you want to make him proud. 

It spurs you to lunge a little too far. 

The sharp stabbing pain in your left ankle makes you shriek, and you tumble to the ground, dropping the racket with a clatter. You hear the pounding of his feet, glance up just in time to see him clear the net before he’s on the ground at your side. 

“What hurts?” 

“My ankle,” You grit out, hissing softly as he helps you straighten your leg out. He smooths his hands over your calf, leaning over you and gently guiding your foot in a few different directions. You whimper as he starts to guide your foot to the left. 

“Okay, okay,” He soothes, “Let’s get you inside.” 

For as much as you damn the throbbing in your ankle, you thank it a little, too. You lean heavily against Art, making the slow, arduous journey back to the house with his arm wrapped tightly around your middle. 

When your husband comes home, he finds you with on the couch with Art coming back in from the kitchen, an ice pack in your hand. 

You’d hope for concern, but your husband frowns, glances at the swelling knob of your ankle, and simply asks: “What did you do?” 

“She lost her balance.” Art sits down on the other end of the couch, soothing you as the chill of the ice pack makes you shift with discomfort. 

“Are you going to be able to walk tomorrow?” Your husband presses. “We have dinner at the Fineman’s.”

“I'm still going, don't worry about that."

“...Tomorrow might be a bit soon,” Art warns. 

“I’ll be okay. It’s just a sprain, right?” You tip your brows up, hoping, praying that he’ll agree for your sake. His fingers flex around the ice pack, jaw ticking as he clenches it. He doesn’t say a word as your husband sighs heavily, grumbles, “I hope so. Still, we should put a pause on the lessons until she’s fighting fit again.” 

Art finally tears his eyes from yours, a tight smile on his lips. 

“Of course.” 

-- 

“How’s the ankle?” 

It takes you a moment to scrounge up an answer. You can’t believe that he called. You knew that Art had gotten your number when you started taking lessons with him, but he’s never used it beyond texting to confirm a lesson time now and again. 

You look down at the still-swollen flesh as it strains against the thin strap of your slingbacks. 

“Fine,” You lie, “It’s um—” You glance over your shoulder, listening for your husband. “It’s not that bad.” 

“Good enough to walk on?” 

Hardly. 

“Yes.” You think you’ve gotten away with it, but when you hear Art sigh and chastise, “You should rest,” You know that you haven’t.

“I have,” You insist, “All day.” 

“Are you sure you’re alright?” 

“Yes.” 

“You can tell him no, you know.”

Your mouth works wordlessly, body going hot with indignation. You can’t think of a thing to say. You can’t tell him that he’s wrong, that your husband’s connections are the lifeblood of his business. You can’t tell him that if your husband’s business falls apart, you won't be able to afford those tennis lessons, and then how the hell are you supposed to see Art again? 

You just yank your phone away from your ear and hang up. 

-- 

I invited Art. 

It shouldn’t be a surprise, but your husband’s statement makes you feel like you’ve swallowed your tongue. You haven’t seen or spoken to Art in nearly two weeks. Your doctor recommended putting off any physical activity, which your husband surely relayed to him. He was the one whose name was on Art’s checks, after all. 

Your husband has always thrown a massive party to kick off the summer. Every year, 150 of your husband’s closest family, friends, and business associates flooded into the house. It shouldn’t be such a surprise that your husband invited Art after the performance he had given at the fundraiser—$25,000 from the foundation, and ticket sales went through the roof when it had been announced that the Art Donaldson would be making an appearance. Your husband owed Art a lot, and probably saw this as an opportunity for him to network, to take on more clients. He had been evangelizing Art’s training to any of your friends that would listen—how good you are on the court, how engaged and energetic you seem to be these days. 

It’s one thing to know that you’ll have to put on a happy face for the crowd, but to know that Art will be among them makes your insides twist with nerves. You can’t stop thinking about the way that he had spoken to you when you were hurt; his calm, steadying demeanor as he’d gotten you inside; the careful coaxing and gentle touch that he’d used as he’d taken your shoe off and examined your ankle more closely. 

You think about it now, as you strap on another pair of heels. Your ankle really is doing well, though you have a little lingering pain in shoes like these. You’ll likely be on your feet for the length of the party; it’s going to be a long night. You look over yourself in the mirror, self consciously tipping your ankle from side to side for anything that he may spot or catch out. But there’s nothing, you reassure yourself. You slide your hands over the skirt, plastering on a smile as your husband pokes his head into your dressing room. 

“Almost ready in here?” He asks. 

“All set!” 

-- 

He doesn’t come over to you. On the crowded patio, you can feel him watching you—you’ve gotten so used to seeking out the sensation that you can’t ignore it now. The first true look at him is agony. He watches you from just a few feet away, a glass of champagne in hand as he speaks with your husband and the Finemans. He openly looks you over, eyes drifting over your body to the flash of ankle revealed by the slit in your dress. He tips his head to the side just a little, squinting before his eyes flit back up to your face, lips twitching with a small smile. 

You want to hate how good it feels; you want to be angry with him for his smug knowing, his insistence of You can tell him no, you know. But it feels so goddamn good to have his attention again that you can’t bring yourself to be annoyed. You know that you’re staring—that you both are—and you force yourself to turn away and excuse yourself from the conversation you’re in. You go inside, murmuring your thanks for the waitstaff that pass you along the way.

The house isn’t nearly as busy as the patio, and you're able to slip into your darkened study unnoticed. You leave the lights off, certain that if you turn them on, people will be drawn in to bug you, like moths to a flame. The party’s lights and music filter in through the partially-closed blinds.��

You lean against the desk, circling your ankle and wincing a little. You’ll hide for a few minutes, let it rest—

Your breath catches in your throat as the door opens. You expect your husband, ready to scold and usher you back to the guests. 

You only have a second to get a look at Art before he shuts the door behind himself, plunging the room back into darkness. Your fingers tighten around the edge of the desk as you use it to ground yourself. 

“...Do you need something?” You ask, voice wobbling with nerves. 

“Wanted to come say hi.” 

“Well. Hi.” 

You hear him chuckle, his footsteps muted by the carpet. 

“Thanks for the invite.” 

“It wasn’t my idea.” It’s not polite to admit, but you want it to sting him, just a little. Maybe it does; in the dim of the room, you can’t see Art’s expression as he comes to a stop just a couple of feet from you. 

“Do you want me to go?” He asks. You know what you should say, but you can’t bring yourself to say it. 

“No,” You whisper. You feel the heat of him as he comes closer, his hands resting on the desk and caging you in. You bite your lip as gently brushes his nose against yours. 

“He isn’t taking care of you.” 

“My ankle is fine.” 

“I’m not talking about your ankle.” He lifts a hand, smoothing it over your hip as your breath mingles. Art’s fingers drift from your hip to stroke over the apex of your dress’s slit. His fingers slip further down, and you nod as he palms your thigh. Before you can say or do a thing, Art sinks to his knees. He curls his hand around your left calf, lifting it. You shiver as his lips press a gentle kiss to your ankle. His hand and lips travel up, easing the fabric of your dress higher with each second. The first brush of his knuckles against your panty-covered clit makes you jolt. Your hands dig into the wood of the desk as his fingers hook between the fabric and your skin. You lift your hips without a word, allowing him to draw them down. 

Art presses a kiss to your mound before he lowers his head, giving your lips a sweet, sucking kiss. You gasp softly as his tongue swipes across your clit. You look down despite the fact that you can’t see him well. You can just make out his blissful expression, his eyes closed as his laps broadly across your aching cunt. You lower your hand to his neat hair, winding your fingers through it, unable to help grasping it. His heady moan vibrates against you and you nearly cry out at the sensation. You manage to just catch it, the sound dying in your throat as Art buries his tongue inside you. He sweeps his thumb over your clit in rush, harried circles, panting against your heated flesh. You rock your hips down against his lips, tightening your grip on his hair as you guide him. He lets you do as you please, whining against your skin as your movements become less controlled.

“Art,” You warn, “I—Oh, oh god—” 

He hums in encouragement, sucking your clit back between his lips and lashing it with his tongue. Your jaw drops open, your hand shoving Art even more tightly against your skin as you cum suddenly. A stunned, breathy moan slips from your lips as Art leans back, smearing his lips against the inside of your thigh. 

You use your grasp on Art’s hair to draw him back up off of his knees, giving him a crushing kiss as he catches his balance. You swipe your tongue across his lips, whining against his lips as you taste yourself on him. He presses close, his hard cock straining against the fabric of his pants. You reach down, palming and squeezing his length as you trade slick, messy kisses. He steers you back onto the desk as you fumble to undo his belt, button, and zip. 

“Condom?” He asks. 

“Pill,” You reassure, shoving his pants down. You lap broadly across your palm, grasping Art’s length and guiding him closer. He brushes the tip of his cock against your still-throbbing clit, smiling as you whine. You’re going to ache tomorrow, but you’ve never been so happy to be sore.

“Art.” 

“Sssh.” 

“Please—” It’s hardly out of your mouth before he shoves his hips forward, seating himself fully with a single thrust. You bite down on your lip to quiet your moan, curling your arms around your shoulders. He rocks into you with firm, quick strokes, his mouth covering yours. You can hear things on the desk rattling with each thrust, kisses growing less controlled as he hoists your thigh up around his hip. 

“Oh, god,” You breathe, “We have to be quick—He’ll come looking—” 

“Not until you cum for me again,” He urges. “I need to feel it, sweetheart.” 

“Art—” 

“When’s the last time he did this? Hmm?” He presses, “When’s the last time he made you cum? When’s the last time he tasted you?” 

“Never,” You admit with a shiver. It seems to renew Art’s passion, his thrusts and hold growing more intense. You squeeze your eyes shut, hands hooking tightly in the fabric of his jacket. He yanks the front of your dress down, bowing over you and drawing one of your nipples between his lips. You whimper as he toys with the bud, tugging it gently with his teeth before swiping across it. You arch into the slick heat, using your leg to tug him even closer as you chased the swelling curl of your orgasm. 

“Just like that,” You urge, “Ffffuck—yes, yesyesyesyes—”

Your eyes squeeze shut as your hips buck down against his, pussy pulsing as he spills into you. Your heart pounds in your chest as the two of you slow and still. Art rests his forehead heavily against your neck, peppering gentle kisses across the exposed skin. You have to move—now. You don’t know if anyone heard you, but if someone did, you’re screwed. If no one did, your husband will probably be looking for you anyway, ready with a scold for neglecting your hostess duties. 

“...I have to go,” You warn softly. It takes Art a moment to move, but he does, gently drawing himself back from your still-throbbing cunt. You hear the clanking of his belt buckle as he tucks himself away, and you reach down, righting your dress where it’s been pulled away. You take up your panties from where they’d been discarded on the floor, tugging them on before you straighten your skirt and hurry out of the room. 

--  

“Can I see you?” 

It’s only been an hour since the last guest has left, and you are so, so fucking tired. You glance toward the bathroom door. You know that you locked it, and you’re certain that your husband can’t hear you over the shower running, but you can’t help but be paranoid.

“You just saw me,” You remind him. 

“Tomorrow,” Art clarifies. 

“Where?” 

“I’ll send an address.” 

You bite your lip, toying with your earring. Your pussy is still aching from the stretch of him, your ass sore from getting fucked on the desk. 

“...You regret it?” He asks. 

“No,” You don't give your answer a second thought.

“I’ll send an address. Whether or not you see me is up to you. Just…think about it. Okay?” 

“Okay.” 

You lower your phone, hanging it up and watching his contact information blink away. It’s only a moment before a text with an address lights up your phone. You don’t have to think about it. You already know what you’re going to do. 

--  

You know that you’re staring, but you can’t bring yourself to stop. Art has spent so much time in your home, so you feel entitled to look around a little bit. You eye the row of trophies on his mantle, photos of him playing when he was young. You come to a stop at a picture of him with a young girl, a racket in her hand and a medal around her neck. 

“Is this Lily?” You ask. 

“Yeah,” He nods. “First competition.” 

“Already getting gold,” You smile. “The Mark Rebellato Academy isn’t ready for her.” 

Art chuckles, nodding as he steps around you.

“You, uh…You want something to eat, or drink, or…?” He trails off, tucking his hands into his pockets as he takes a couple of steps back toward his kitchen. You turn to face him, taking him in more fully. 

“Art?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Why am I here?” 

He doesn’t answer for a few moments. You can see him weighing his options before he comes closer. 

“I…I’ve been thinking about last night.” 

Fear shoots through you, but you force yourself to stand tall. “Okay.”

“I could lie and tell you that it should be a one-time thing, but I can’t remember the last time I got through a day without thinking about you. And I think you’ve been thinking about me, too.” Art stops as the tip of his shoes brush against yours, and you let your eyes slip closed as he rests his forehead against yours. 

“Tell me I’m wrong,” He pleads. “Tell me to fuck off right now and I will never say another non-tennis related thing to you again.” 

-- 

When he fucks you, he curls close, chest pressing against yours as he catches your lips in a kiss. You sink back against his pillows, your head cradled by his broad palm as he rolls his hips achingly slowly. You don’t bother to hide your whines and moans, and you revel in his. Every grunt and whimper and groan that Art lets out lights you up. 

And when you cum, you don't have to quiet yourself. His name tumbles out of your mouth, cushioned between expletives as your nails dig into his shoulders.

--

"What time is he home tonight?"

You don't want to think about it. You want to stay in this cozy little bubble, trailing your fingers over his muscled chest as he massages your nape and kisses your forehead.

But you know that you'll have to let the world back in sometime.

"I don't know," You admit. "Late."

"...Could stay."

"He'll be suspicious if I'm not home when he gets there."

Art sighs softly, running his hand down to rub between your shoulder blades.

"This isn't going to be easy, is it."

"What?"

"Letting you go every day."

"Every day?" You tease, pushing yourself up to get a better look at him. "Don't get greedy, Mr. Donaldson."

He smiles, raising his hand and cupping your cheek. "Is it greedy to know what I want?"

You shake your head a little, lowering your lips to brush against his.

"Not when I want it, too."

part ii: what we're willing to accept

Tag list: @missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight ; @amneris21

@ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage​​​ ;  @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity

@millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ;

@buckybarneshairpullingkink ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; @winchestershiresauce ; @lorecraft ; @kmc1989

[almostempty]

Never made it as a wise man

(joel miller x f!reader)

Description: Joel solves your car troubles for free, and you try to return the favor with a homecooked meal. When you accidentally interrupt his jerkoff session, you take a chance and help him out.

Note: y’all are out here answering god’s toughest questions, like what if emotionally unavailable Joel was loved unconditionally? or what if Joel was the Mothman?, and I deeply appreciate that. 

However, today, I am here to answer a question that nobody asked– What if Joel was a divorced dad rock kinda guy? 

You know, like, listening to Nickelback on an old-school boombox in his garage, or unironically singing Creed on the way to work, or bonding with Ellie over Papa Roach? And also, (inspired by a genius) what if he was a little bit pathetic? 

Anyway, I present to you: divorced dad rock dilf, Joel, ta-da! (my humble submission for @hellishjoel‘s hot dilf summer challenge) obvs dedicated to: @auteurdelabre

ao3: read here | masterlist: here | part 1.5 here

Tags/warnings: AU no outbreak divorced Joel x f!reader, Sarah is not mentioned, but Ellie is your adult coworker, reader is clueless about cars and so am I, gratuitous smut and horny thoughts, implied jorkin’ joel but no witnesses, hand job, fingering, premature ejaculation, touch starved kinda loserish but hot divorced dilf joel, he’s a real tiddy guy in this one and idk why it just happened, pwp, is it a crackfic? maybe, but i meant it wholeheartedly so idk  

WC: 4.2k

You pull onto the long driveway, hoping to see Joel’s truck. You forgot to text first to see if he would be around, but he did tell you to come by if you ever needed anything. You mostly just hope he’ll be willing to accept your gift. 

Last week, he’d helped you out by fixing your car. He told you what the issue was, but he might as well have been speaking another language when he described it. You had already brought coffee and a plate of cookies to your coworker Ellie to thank her for dragging you to Joel’s to ask for help. Being in a new town was hard enough, but you had no idea how you would handle the price for diagnostics, let alone whatever the repair would’ve cost. You tried to offer Joel the cash you had as a thanks, but he wouldn’t accept it. You tried to argue with him, but Ellie told you it wasn’t worth arguing with him. He wouldn’t budge. Instead, he had offered to change your oil for you, making you feel even more indebted to him. 

At first, the most you got out of Ellie for intel on Joel was that he was the one responsible for you having to listen to “One Last Breath” and “Lips of an Angel” at ungodly early hours. Ellie claimed that her music taste was deeply influenced by Joel, and somehow, Ellie is always in charge of the music at work. When you rolled your eyes calling it divorced dad rock, she let it slip that you were right about that. 

That explains a lot when you remember the brief time you spent in his house and shop. The house was clean inside but not tidy. Stray beer bottles and travel mugs dotted the counter and coffee table. But the shop had all the Divorced Dad Barbie accessories. 

The project car and crates of assorted parts. The beer fridge and the plastic lawn chairs in the corner for bullshitting with whoever stopped by. The boombox on the workbench with the stack of CDs. And the fading calendar from another decade with the naked woman kneeling on the beach. 

You hadn’t been able to stop your eyes from darting to her sultry expression and swimsuit model-perfect breasts when Joel had been explaining what he was going to do to your car. You wondered if the heat burning in your cheeks had given you away, but he didn’t notice then. Ellie sure did, though, and she had rolled her eyes at you, noting it had been up so long she even forgot it was there. 

Luckily, Ellie didn’t notice your eyes lingering on Joel’s body. You weren’t trying to be a creep, but the way his arm flexed when he opened the hood of your car gave you some feral brand of intrusive thoughts. The ratty band t-shirt and the faded jeans were working for him, too, or at least they were doing something for you. Time slowed when your eyes trailed over his arms and down the muscles of his broad back. He just seemed so… solid. You finally understood what your friends back home meant when they said they wanted to climb a man like a tree. You had jumped a little when Ellie slammed the fridge behind you and shouted at Joel about how he can’t just live in the shop drinking shitty beer and eating beef jerky. She had grabbed your arm to drag you to the house for an iced tea while he worked. 

Her comment sparked your idea. You figured Joel must be a utilitarian type. He probably lives on frozen pizzas–or even worse, those Hungry-Man frozen TV dinners–instead of making himself something fresh. Maybe he’s one of those guys who got really into smoking meats instead. Either way, you hope the lasagna you made from scratch and the other tray of cookies will be an acceptable thank you for his help. He can’t refuse it if you already made it, right? 

You pull up next to a truck, assuming it’s his, and that he’s home. Before you grab the tray, you pause to check your reflection and adjust your breasts in your white tank top, making sure your cleavage pokes out as temptingly as possible. 

You check yourself in the mirror with a look. Why does it matter what you look like? It’s not like you’re trying to fuck your only (almost) friend’s dad, right? Although she calls him by his first name, not Dad, so maybe there’s like a loophole or something if she’s adopted. You think about the calendar model and her perfect tits hanging on the wall over his tools. It can’t hurt to just do a little harmless flirting, right? Maybe you aren’t even his type anyway. 

After knocking on the door a couple of times, you frown, wondering if he’s not home. On the way back to your car, with your head hung in defeat, your ears perk up at the sound of something clanging in the shop. Of course! 

You skitter back to the front porch to leave your goods by the door and head for the shop to find that divorced DILF–Joel, you mean. It’s sweltering out, and sweat is beading on your chest after only a few minutes in the heat. The closer you get, the more easily you can make out the sound of his little CD player blasting another brooding, raspy ballad sung by a white man with a troubled love life. 

The garage door is shut, so you knock on the door on the side of the building. You wait a minute before testing your luck and opening the door yourself. Assessing the shop, you don’t see your man, sorry, Joel, at first glance. The music blasts, and the calendar model gives you the same impish smirk through her false lashes and a layer of dust, but there’s no Joel. The evidence clearly dictates that he’s in here somewhere, as his tools are strung around his project, the lights are on, and a beer with a sweating label sits on the edge of the workbench. 

You aren’t trying to be sneaky. You didn’t think to holler and announce your presence over the music. Plus, you didn’t fully get your bearings the last time you were here. Now, you can pick up a few more details as your eyes absorb everything they can about anything that gives you a hint about who this guy is. 

The guy that’s been haunting your dreams for a week. Last week, when you walked back to the shop with Ellie to check on your car, you nearly tripped, watching Joel wipe the sweat off his face with the bottom of his shirt. You had just caught a glimpse of the trail of hair disappearing under his jeans, but it was enough to replay in your mind every night as you created your little scenarios to carry you off to sleep. 

The scent memory was somehow worse. It was so easy to transport yourself back in time with the thought of the sweaty musk and the grease or oil smeared on his fingers. It shouldn’t turn you on, right? 

You remember thinking he seemed so knowledgeable when describing the issue. You had no idea what he was talking about, but his low voice and patience were enough to tell you he could talk you through anything. 

You notice a few other details as you enter his sacred space today. The woodworking projects, the band posters, and the pictures with Ellie and other family members tacked to the wall over another workbench. 

Still, no Joel, however. 

You circle the partially disassembled project truck and see a door to another room. It would be the office if the shop were a professional business. There’s a window along the wall, but instead of a boss watching an employee, it’s you hoping to see that brawny man and his dark curls. 

As you step closer, you nearly squeal. There he is. Well, at least, you can see the broad shoulders and back you’ve been picturing above you in bed. You practically skip to the door. It’s already open a crack, and you give it a knock, calling his name as it swings open from the force of your rapping knuckles.   

The next moment is a blur. 

“Shit, fuck, hold on!” Joel shouts gruffly as he slams the door in your face. But you already heard it. The phony wailing noises that came from the busted speaker on his phone. 

You still face the closed door, trying to process the interaction before he wrenches the door back open. He’s breathing rapidly, chest rising and falling, as he looks at you with wide eyes that quickly narrow. 

“What are you doing here?” he barks. 

Your hands fall to your sides, and you start to step back, ready to turn and run. 

He catches your fear and tries to adjust, but you’re faster. 

“Sorry,” you mumble as you turn and try to dash away. Joel’s quick, too, though, and he grabs your wrist. 

“Hey, wait,” he loosens his grip when you spin back towards him, “I just didn’t hear you comin’. Wasn’t expecting you.” 

“Sorry,” you repeat, stuttering as you continue, “I-I just, uh, just wanted to say thanks for your help last week.” You stare at the floor. Unsure why you’re embarrassed, you feel so small after he saw your face and practically shouted at you. 

“All right,” he rumbles. You’re too busy staring at the crack in the concrete floor to notice how his eyes are glued to your exposed skin. Or to see the blotchy red flush that crawls up his neck and toward his face. 

But your brain starts to catch up. Joel might’ve snapped at you, but you’re the one that caught him in the act. You don’t lift your head, but your eyes trail over his stained and faded jeans until you’re studying his crotch. 

Bingo. It’s almost too easy. You can make out the outline of his erection tucked up in his waistband. Even more glaring evidence is the open fly. You wish you had caught what he was watching. How does he like it? What does he search for when he wants to jerk off in the back office on a hot Saturday afternoon? 

He clears his throat, and you snap your attention to his face. “Was there somethin’ you needed?” He asks. 

“Yes.” You tell him you’ve got a lasagna that should get into a fridge before it reheats in the sun. He follows you toward the front door and into the house, not missing how your hips sway as you lead. 

Once the tray is shoved into the fridge, nestled between some takeout containers, he turns to thank you. “You didn’t need to do all that,” he gruffs over the cookies and homemade meal. 

You step back to lean against the counter, littered with mail and more coffee cups, and let yourself check him out up close. His faded Creed t-shirt has holes around the neck. He’s got that same sweaty man musk going on, and you wish you knew why that stirred your arousal, but your pussy lacks logic. 

“I know, I know,” you reply, “but you really saved my ass with the car, and I wanted to do something for you. You know, some way to pay you back?” 

“All right, well, thanks,” he trails off. He doesn’t seem to know what else to say. Maybe you should be on your way already, but he’s not ushering you out the door. 

This time, you do catch when his eyes drop to your chest. There’s no way you’re imagining the tension between you as you stand in his kitchen while he stares at your barely clothed tits, right? Fuck it. You’re gonna go for it. 

You take a step towards him. “I wasn’t sure if it was really enough,” your voice is soft and tempting, and your sweet perfume wafts towards him like a lust potion. Joel swallows thickly as you approach.

He knows you must’ve put it together, but he tried to delude himself. Maybe you couldn’t hear the theatrical screams of the woman he was watching get railed before he slammed the door in your face. He hopes all you heard was Chad Kroeger’s voice screaming, “This time I'm mistaken

For handin' you a heart worth breakin'” from the stereo.. on the other side of the shop. 

“You worked so hard,” you continued with one final step, and now you’re nearly toe-to-toe in front of him. “There has to be something else I could do.” You’re so close to him. He forgets to respond. It takes all his power to keep his eyes on your face. 

You have a wild urge to taste the sweat on his neck, but you keep your tongue to yourself. He hasn’t made any move to encourage you, but he hasn’t stopped you yet either, so you figure it’s worth taking a risk. 

“Maybe you’ve got a problem I could help you with.” You go for it, reaching your hand out to palm at the bulge in his jeans. 

Again, too many things happen at once. Joel snaps out a “What?” in disbelief. His hand circles your wrist tightly. His hips jerk, involuntarily bucking into your palm. Your glossy lips part into an “o” shape at the size of his not-quite-hard cock. And now you’re both locked into this position like statues. 

His fingers stay firmly wrapped around your wrist, but he doesn’t pull you away. Your fingers squeeze over his jeans, and your eyes flash wide as you can feel his cock twitch and stiffen at your touch. The touch that rapidly overrides your better judgment, drowning you in want. Your clit twitches itself in response, your nipples strain under your thin tank top, and your eyelids feel heavy immediately. 

“What are you doing?” His voice crackles like he hadn’t just used it. You slide your hand to pop the button on his jeans, and he releases your wrist as you flip it to slip your fingers under the waistband of his boxers in search of his cock. 

“Let me help,” you say in more of a whispered tone. The searing heat between Joel’s legs makes you salivate. Your fingers graze coarse curls before you acquire your target, wrapping your palm and fingers around his thick shaft. His size has your cunt throbbing in your shorts. 

Joel’s eyes are squeezed shut. He looks nearly in pain. You pull your hand back out to let the pool of saliva on your tongue drip into your palm. 

“Jesus,” he breathes out, watching your lewd maneuver. “You wanna help?” He repeats your plea in the form of a question, a little dumbfounded. He’s trying to figure out what’s happening right now. 

“I do,” you answer in a honeyed voice as you dig your hand back into his pants. He’s unable to respond with words as you swirl your palm over the head of his cock, mixing saliva and precome, but his body eggs you on. He bucks into your fist, and you work quickly, pumping his throbbing length. The slick noises are muffled by the layers of clothing, but the grunts that catch in his throat shoot piping-hot desire straight into your core. 

He looks a little desperate, eyes slammed shut again, jaw slack, arms hanging uselessly at his side. And for god knows why, the entire scene pulls a moan from your lips. The sweet sound snaps Joel back to attention. His hands shoot straight to your breasts, cupping them gently to feel them bounce against the motion of your arm wrestling with his jeans to keep stroking his cock. 

They’re so close to spilling over your tank top on their own. Joel can’t resist tugging the thin material until they spill over the top. The sight alone nearly has him coming in his pants. But then you moan so loudly when he squeezes them both and pinches at your nipples, and he really can’t stop. 

“Fuck, fuck, wait,” he spits out, but it’s too late. His hips jerk erratically, thrusting into your slick fist, and he’s coming. It coats your hand and wrist and makes an absolute mess.  You relax your grip when his whole body seems to shudder and gently remove your hand. He tries to choke his groan of frustration before it surfaces, but he immediately pauses his shame spiral when he sees you suck your come-coated fingers one by one. 

“God, that’s so fucking hot,” you tell him. At the same time, he’s muttering curses at the sight of you. You’re feeling a little giddy that all it took was your hand and showing your tits to have Joel losing control and spilling his load for you. It has your mouth curling into an impish grin. 

He’s got the sight of you half topless in his kitchen, licking your fingers, looking awfully proud of yourself, etching into his memory. Before the blood can return to his brain, he grabs you tightly by the ribs and walks you backward towards the counter. He lifts you onto it and wrenches open your shorts, yanking at them as you lift your hips so he can slide them off of you and drop them onto the kitchen floor. 

Yes! Yes! Yes! The horny little goblins in your brain shriek and chant, incited by the rough and impulsive way Joel gropes at you. It’s barbaric, and that delights you. 

Sitting on the counter, you give him such perfect access to put his mouth on your breasts that he forgets what he was going to say. He mouths at each of them wetly, his beard tickling you as he’s busy sucking marks into your delicate skin. He sucks and bites at your strained nipples until your loud whines turn into a sharp gasp, and he pulls back. 

The heavy-lidded look on your face has him diving back in for more, and you groan and arch into his touch. You rake your fingers into the curls at the back of his neck and tug at him. He grunts and moans into your skin, and it drives you wild. You need to feel him closer. 

You grab the worn cotton on his shoulders until he lets you slip the shirt over his head and drop it onto the counter next to you. It gives you the briefest moment to take in the sight of his built chest and shoulders and softer midsection with that trail of hair you had memorized. You need to taste the salt on his skin. 

Spreading your legs wider, he slots his hips against yours at the edge of the counter, and you run your tongue along his neck. You slide one of your hands down the smooth golden skin of his shoulder, and the other nestles back in his messy curls as his mouth finds yours. 

He tastes like cheap coffee and the peppermint nicotine gum parked above his teeth along the left side of his mouth. You know it’s wrong that you can’t get enough. But you're helpless when he pulls your bottom lip between his teeth, and you mindlessly roll your hips, seeking any relief. 

He’s grumbling in your ear about how it seems like you need help now, but you couldn’t care less about the words coming out of his mouth. His deep voice alone could get you off. You let out an uninhibited whine at the thought. 

“Jesus Christ,” he pulls back. His head hangs, staring at the floor. He shakes it in what you assume is disbelief. You don’t want to wait for him to think any further. You grab his hand, pulling it between your legs.

“Really, fucking, hot.” You echo your earlier declaration. Doing your best to sound assertive. You figure at least your soaked panties will prove your point. 

“Fuck,” he stifles a groan. You’re so wet it coats his fingertips through the thin material. He nudges his fingers into you, over your panties, and you whimper for him. The fabric sticks to you and makes an obscene sound as he toys with you for only seconds. “Oh, you do need my help. Hm?” 

You nod, spreading your legs wider for Joel to have access. He scoffs at you, displayed eagerly atop his kitchen counter. “Just desperate for me, aren’t ya?”

You snap your legs back shut with a glare. 

“No way,” you press, jabbing a finger into his chest, “you don’t get to laugh at me like I’m a slut for you when you just came in your pants for me.” 

His nostrils flare, and blotchy red patches creep up his neck again. You aren’t sure what kind of bear you’ve just, quite literally, poked. 

“But you are, aren’t you?” He challenges. “You came all this way in this excuse for a shirt, just for me.” 

He wedges his hand back between your closed thighs, and you relax just enough to let him work his way back to your core. Your breathing gives you away when it hitches and stutters as he traces his fingers along the hem of the fabric between your legs. You let your legs fall a little wider apart, and he sinks a finger beneath the hem and right inside of you to the knuckle. 

A whiny noise rolls in the back of your throat. 

“Shh,” he sinks a second finger inside of you, and your muscles spasm and contract, “that’s better, hmm?” He slowly pulls his fingers almost all the way out and then plunges them back in. He repeats this, and your core tenses as you writhe for him. 

“You need more?” 

“Yes.” 

“Yeah, you do.” He adds a third finger, and the slight stretch makes you hum. 

“You just need to be filled up, hm?” He teases you. Awfully confident now for a guy you just caught watching porn on his phone in a grimy back office in the middle of the afternoon. 

But your noises and impatient movements spur him on. His sticky cock is filling out his jeans again. He nearly drools at the thought of the wet walls of your cunt, currently wrapped around his fingers, sliding over his cock instead. He knows you want it, too.

“Don’t you?” He asks like you could read his mind.

“Hm?” You hum absently. Empty headed. You’re still taken by the entire pulpy, messy scene. 

Reveling in the vulnerability of being spread open on his cluttered counter as you’re both half-dressed and panting in the other’s hot breath. Any semblance of the lightness of your mood is quickly replaced with a blinding need. His fingers work into you, making obscene sounds, and then you add your own fingers. Circling your swollen clit just as he lets you in on his vision. 

“You wanna bounce on my lap. Fill this pussy with my cock.” 

“Yes,” you hiss as you hover at the edge. 

“Yeah, that’s it,” he watches your fingers working deftly over your swollen clit. The encouragement tips you over. Your body jolts erratically as you contract around his fingers, and bright sparks of pleasure course through you. 

“Yeah, you’re gonna ride me like fuckin’ champ,” he decides. You pull at his wrist when you start to feel overwhelmed, and he slides his wet fingers over your soft inner thigh. He’s ready to grab you and carry you to the couch when both of your heads snap to attention at the sound of a door slamming in the driveway. 

“Shit,” he grumbles, looking for the clock on the stove before he remembers it’s definitely not set to the right time. You move nimbly, shimmying into your shorts, snapping your straps back over your shoulder, and brushing your hair out of your face. 

“Hey, wait,” he calls for you, but you’re on the move. 

“Let me know when I can pick up the baking dish,” you call over your shoulder. Luckily, Joel’s next guest seemed to know him better. They were off to search the shop first, so you didn’t collide with anyone before you got to your car. Joel stayed locked in the kitchen, catching his breath while you started to pull away. He didn’t see that you stole his dirty Creed shirt off the counter before you skipped out the door. 

When you grab it later to wear to bed, a naughty little smile tugs at the corners of your lips. When you pull the worn fabric to your nose to inhale deeply, you wonder if it’s one of those weird pheromone matches or something because you’re sure the sweaty man musk should be wrinkling your nose. 

Instead, it makes you think of his big arms and chest filling out the shirt. And how his shoulder and back muscles ripple under his sun-bronzed skin. What they’d look like coated in a sheen of salty sweat as he railed you, bent over his workbench, under the watchful eye of the calendar model and her flirty smize. 

The image has you interrupting your own scenarios-before-bed time. Maybe Joel needs a model from this decade. You giggle, bunching up the t-shirt to snap a tasteful shot of some underboob cleavage, with the faded Creed logo on full display. 

You send it off with no context, figuring it’s self-explanatory. It’s less than a minute before your phone buzzes, and you feel the intoxicating rush rip through your body before you pick it up to see just the heading on your lockscreen: 

Joel

Attachment 1 image

divider by @cyberangel-graphics

Please let me know if you enjoyed or hated this or a secret third thing (???) heheh

[in-class-daydreams]

Imagine ex-husband Gojo doing things for his new love interests that you begged him for while you were married.

After a joint meeting between the sister schools, you overheard Suguru asking him who he was texting during the meeting.

Satoru replied, "Just letting my date know I'll be a bit late tonight since we ran long here. Todo can yap, huh?"

"Seriously!" Their voices faded as they walked down the hall.

You stood just outside the meeting room watching the corner the disappeared around. If you had to pinpoint the number one reason your marriage failed - more than clan pressure, more than the strain of being young parents, more than back to back to back missions - it would be the fact that Satoru can't communicate for shit.

Part of it wasn't his fault. His brain just didn't work like that. An inconvenient side effect of limitless is that everything makes sense in your head, but it's hard for a person with the gift to explain their thoughts to others.

So the no-call, no-shows to dinners was technically a side effect of limitless, as was his inability to articulate his feelings like an adult or the fact that he would just do things without even telling you there was a problem in the first place.

"Quit doing that with your face, brat." Sukuna emerges from the meeting room. He's out of his Ryomen form at the moment, as he usually is during meetings so that he can actually fit in his chair. "How long are you gonna let what he does affect you?"

"It doesn't!" you insist.

Sukuna rolls his eyes. "If that helps you sleep at night."

Imagine reminding yourself that you can't be mad at him.

You're seeing other people now, too. Hell, you've been divorced for over a decade, it's insanity that you care at all.

It's just. You never doubted his love for you. Not for a second, not even now that your marriage failed and you largely raised your son on your own.

"Mom?"

Maybe your divorce was his motivation to be better. You're not sure. But if he's capable of change, capable of being attentive and communicative, why couldn't he change for you all those years ago?

"Mom."

Could it be that you were his childhood companion and he loved you, but he was never in love with you? Was his love for you less than your love for him?

You hardly notice your son calling out to you until he springs into action. "Mom!" Sen nudges you away from the stove to turn of the burner. When did smoke fill the kitchen? The roux you were trying to make was burnt to a crisp, stuck to the pan and emanating an unpleasant smell.

Sen gently pries your hands off the handle and drops the ruined pan in the sink to soak. Then he makes sure the burner's off before turning to you with a conflicted expression.

He may have inherited a hybrid of both your and Satoru's personal brands of emotional stuntedness, but he could put two and two together between how distracted you've been and the rumors of Satoru dating again - What with it being huge news among jujutsu society (aka power hungry clans with eligible daughters.) Your son had his own complicated feelings regarding his father and as much as he'd prefer Satoru stay away from you, it hurt him to see you like this.

Though, watching you try to keep a stiff upper lip for his sake during the divorce is the reason he doesn't want his father anywhere near you.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart." You wipe your hands on a dish towel. "I wasn't paying attention. Hang tight while I make you something else."

He could kill Satoru right now. But you wouldn't like that, so he won't.

"Mama, I--" He shuts his mouth. You've been protecting him from the details of the divorce his whole life. What did he know about comforting you? But while he may not have been able to protect you then, he can sure as hell try now.

"Mama, why don't I take you out to dinner? My treat."

Imagine that Sen decides he needs to stop having ideas.

He brought you to a local okonomiyaki that you've been going to since he was little to the point where the owners knew you well and liked to give you little extras from the kitchen. Today's treat was a side of pickled radish.

It was your happy little hideaway. Away from jujutsu and clans and curses and your broken home.

Sen insisted on cooking the okonomiyaki for you, saying that, "My treats means I'll take care of everything!" The weak smile you gave him made his heart soar.

You giggle while he jokes around and tells you about school like how Hikari fell asleep for 45 minutes out of an hour long test and still got a better score than him. Hearing about your son and his happy school days always made you feel better.

Sen was ready to give himself a pat on the back for cheering you up when he hears the front bell jungle and a woman's laughter carries over.

"Fancy places are like that, though!" the woman laughs. "They give a bite of food per plate."

Then a familiar voice replies, "Yeah, but it was good, wasn't it? And now we get to fill up at a cute place like this."

Even though he's the one facing the door and not you, the look on your face tells Sen all he needs to know. What breaks his heart is that you've sunk lower into your seat to make yourself smaller.

Sen could kill his father right now.

Hooray, angst!

Click [here] to keep up with ex-husband Gojo and his estranged family | Ask stuff about Sen and the fam [here]

[writersdrug]

OOOH bartender Simon when one of the regulars starts making comments about reader at the bar

Yes

Slight nsfw, someone makes derogatory marks about reader

Simon didn't understand why the man chose to be a regular at his bar. He never spoke much to the lad, Mitch, other than the occasional grunt and "'nother round?" Still, the bloke had been coming to his pub every Friday, Saturday, and Sunday night like it was his religion - it very well might've been - spilling his guts over neat whiskey about his failing marriage, his estranged children, and his shitty job. Simon was surprised he managed to keep one, with how much he was drinking on a Sunday night.

"Don't ever get a wife, Simon." Mitch says, fidgeting his empty whiskey glass in his fingers. He'd already come in with a sour expression and droopy eyes - Simon wondered what the topic would be for tonight, but as usual, it steered towards his divorce waiting to happen.

"Already got one." He says, jerking his head to the liquor shelf. "Woodford."

Mitch laughs, letting Ghost take his empty glass and dunk it in the wash basin. "You got anyone waitin' for you after work?"

Ghost clicks his tongue, wiping the condensation off the bar top. "Rather not talk about my personal life 'ere."

"Bah - you need something young n' fresh." Mitch sighs, tapping his fingers against the wood. "Guy like you can't have something too committed, or else your work ethic will suffer."

Ghost grunts as his response. He reminds himself that Mitch was a customer, like everyone else, and he only has to tolerate his yapping for tonight - until next Friday.

Mitch turns his head to look at you, and Simon follows with his eyes: you're standing at a table, bantering with the couple seated there as you take their orders. Hair pulled back into that weird claw clip thingy Simon likes so much, posture relaxed as you leaned on one hip, a soft smile on your face as the couple takes their time placing their orders. He remembers how unfamiliar you were with it all in the beginning, and now it looks like you've been working here for the past ten years. Like you belong in his pub.

"How's she handling the job?" Mitch asks.

Simon shrugs. "Seems t' be managing just fine. Gets away with more shit than I should be allowin' 'er."

Mitch chuckles, looking back at you. "They always do when they look that good." He comments, making Ghost pause. "Price knew what he was doin' hiring her."

He feels his muscles tense subconsciously. "I hired 'er."

Mitch looks back at him, a wicked smile spreading across his face. "Simon, you ol' dog..." he begins, leaning his forearms onto the bartop. "Gotta keep the customers comin' somehow, eh?"

Ghost blinks. "I don't follow." He does; but he's giving Mitch a chance to redeem himself after his insinuation.

"C'mon, was it her face? What she wore to the interview? Did Johhny-boy see her and beg you to hire her?" He leans in towards Simon, who obliges and meets him halfway, just to hear what else the prick will say, so he knows how much damage he can justify.

"I'm telling you - the only reason she probably took the job was, well.." he raises and eyebrow.

Simon waits. "Hmm?"

"You know - three big guys like you lot - not to mention that old brewmaster assistant, Garrick, I know he frequents here... well, any desperate thing like her would be throwing themselves at the opportunity."

He's livid. "Wha' opportunity?"

"Gettin hit from all sides, if you catch my drift."

Ghost nods slowly, biting the inside of his cheek until he tastes blood. He wants to punch a hole through Mitch's chest, but two patrons roughhoused in one week would make Price get on his case. He turns to the bar and grabs a whiskey glass.

"Aww, don't be like that..." Mitch says when he senses Ghost's anger. "I'm sorry. Listen - if you don't want to show her a good time, me and my buddy will. I'll leave my number and you'll give it to her for me?"

"Drink this, sober up, and go home Mitch." Ghost says, slapping the glass of clear liquid in front of the man. Mitch eyes him with a huff as he returns to washing the glasses in the bar sink.

"Fuckin' loser..." he mumbles, grabbing the glass and downing a large gulp - he immediately sputters, the drink spilling all over his front as he coughs and hacks violently. The entire floor looks over at the commotion, you included, standing by the POS and watching with a furrowed brow.

"Fuck- was that goddamn Everclear?!" He rasps.

"I think it's time y' head out, Mitch." Ghost says, leaning both of his hands against the bar. "Call your wife and kids. Stop comin' 'ere every week." He then leans in close, right in front of Mitch's face. "Cuz if I see you back at my bar again, I'm draggin' you out the back myself."

His eyes crinkle with a smile as he claps Mitch on the arm, making him jump from the impact. He quickly gets up off his seat and stumbles towards the front door, sparing one last bitter glance between you and Ghost, before he angrily shoves his way out.

Ghost sighs, putting the Everclear back on the shelf; you walk over right on cue. "What was that about? He ok?"

Simon shrugs, closing Mitch's tab on his POS and assigning an auto-gratuity. "Dunno. Maybe my advice finally got t' the bastard."

[moonstruckme]

hi maeeee!! can i request a poly! marauders where maybe reader is fighting with only one them and the others are shocked when they find out and try their very best to fix it even though things are quite tense? thanks maeeeee ilyyyy💐💐💐

Thanks for your patience with this one angel! It's not as angsty as I planned when I started writing it, but I hope you enjoy it <3

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.8k words

It’s James who finds you this time. You’re curled up in a corner of the couch, pretending to read whilst secretly feeling sorry for yourself. Your boyfriend sits next to you, touching your shoulder so that you turn to him for a kiss. 

“Still upset?” he asks after a peck. 

You ignore the complicated, knotty feeling that makes itself known in your chest. “Not at you.” 

“No, I know.” James smiles a little, gifting you another kiss. “I’d be coming in here with my tail between my legs if you were. I’d hate to be on the wrong side of either you or Rem’s wrath.” 

You stay quiet. You wouldn’t go so far as to call what you’re feeling wrath—that seems a tad dramatic to describe the low flame of vexation you’ve been burning for your tallest boyfriend—but you don’t feel like opening yourself up to the subject with James. You’ve already heard it from Sirius this morning. 

“Angel.” James gives your shoulder a cajoling squeeze. “Come on, when are the two of you going to get past this? It’s very awkward sleeping in the same bed with two people who are quarreling, you know.” 

“We sleep exactly the same as every other night.” 

“There’s underlying tension,” he counters lightly. You roll your eyes, and James laughs. “Oi, don’t get cross with me now, too. I’m just telling you about my lived experience.” He leans his head on your shoulder, all sweetness and treachery. “You’re really not gonna forgive him? You know he’s gonna stick you with Sirius in the divorce.” 

You huff a laugh. James grins up at you hopefully. You know there’s some sense to what he’s saying; one of you has to be the bigger person eventually. It had started small, a stupid disagreement, but you and Remus are each stubborn and petty enough to not want to admit where you were wrong. Now you’re more angry with him for being angry with you than for anything else. 

When you think of his coldness to you—never mind the fact that you’ve been cold to him in turn—that flame of vexation burns a little brighter. 

“I don’t know why you’re over here trying to convince me,” you tell James. “I won’t have any problem forgiving him if he actually apologizes.” 

James sighs. You look down at your book to avoid his disappointment. 

“Okay, then. But he does feel really bad, so you know. He’s in the bedroom with one of his headaches, and he asked if you were still upset with him.” You look up. James levels you with a weighted look. “Could probably really use a cuddle, if you two were on good terms.” 

James is at least only somewhat smug when you abandon your book to go to the bedroom. You pass Sirius in the hall, who gives you a smile and a firm peck on the lips, likely having just left Remus himself. You enter the bedroom expecting to see the curtains drawn, lights off, and your poorly boyfriend in bed, but instead Remus is standing, well lit by the daylight streaming in through the windows, book tented on the bed still made from this morning. He appears as though he was just on his way out. 

“Erm, hi,” he says, brows pulled together in the middle. He looks to be studying you. “Are you alright?” 

“Fine,” you answer, bemused. “Are…are you?”

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?” 

The door clicks shut behind you. You startle at the sound, not having closed it yourself. Then, you watch as a resigned sort of irritation comes over Remus’ features at the same time as it settles into you. 

“Pricks.” He moves past you to the door, jiggling the handle. “It only locks from the inside, you twats.” 

“Love you too,” comes Sirius’ voice. “You can come out after you kiss and make up.” 

“And say you’re sorry!” adds James. 

Remus scowls. 

“Open it,” you tell him. 

“What do you think I’m trying to do? One of them is holding it shut.” 

“Let me try.” 

“Be my guest.” Remus steps back, letting you have a go at the handle. By putting everything you have into it you manage to twist it, but you can’t get it open even an inch. 

“Don’t hurt yourself, gorgeous.” Sirius sounds smug enough to make your face feel hot. “James is holding it on the other side here, a few more minutes and you’ll make him break a sweat.” 

You let go of the handle with a huff, turning and stalking towards the bedroom window. You start moving the desk out of your way. 

“Would you really rather climb out the window than be in a room with me?” asks Remus. You look over your shoulder, and he’s sitting on the bed, side-eyeing you with his back propped against the pillows. 

“It’s not about you.” You shove your hip into the desk, budging it enough for you to get at the window latch. “They lied and made me feel all guilty just so they could lock us in here.” 

“What’d they tell you?”

You try to get your fingernail behind the latch. “It doesn’t matter.” 

“Sirius had me thinking you were quite upset.” 

“Yeah, and probably that I was asking after you, right? James told me you had a bad headache.” 

A chuckle. “That was enough to make you come in here looking so flustered?” 

“My mistake,” you huff, but it turns to a short whimper when your nail breaks. “Christ, you’d think they’d make these easier to open. What if there was a fire?” 

“Don’t go out the window,” Remus says calmly. “You’ll ruin your tights.” 

You work another nail behind the latch. “I can’t just let them win.” 

“Mm. That’s a bit of a problem for you, is it?” 

A bitter coolness settles over you. You turn, crossing your arms. “Something to say?” 

Remus picks up his book, cornering a page. “Just making an observation, is all.” 

“Remus,” you say sternly. “Don’t act like you’re any better. You could’ve apologized at any time.” 

Your boyfriend levels you with a look. “Would that really have made a difference?”

“Yes!” 

“Honestly?” He looks like he doesn’t believe you. “All I have to do is say I’m sorry, and you’ll forget about all of this and be completely happy with me?” 

You shake your head, bewildered. “…Yeah. I mean, I would want to know that you understood how you hurt my feelings, but yeah. Really, it’s not that complicated.” 

Remus’ expression softens. “I do understand that, dove. Do you understand how you hurt mine?” 

“I…” You find you can’t quite look at him. “I imagine it’s sort of similar. Because I’ve been cold to you.” 

“And because you wouldn’t hear me out,” he says. It doesn’t sound like I told you so, not smug so much as gentle. “But it was a small thing to begin with, wasn’t it? I’m ready to be past it.” 

You frown at him. “It’s not about the argument for me. I’m already past that, it’s just everything else.” 

Remus considers you. “Would you come here, please?” 

You swear you wouldn’t go if he didn’t sound so kind. But you find yourself with your legs curled underneath you on the bed in front of him, Remus coaxing your hands into his. 

“I’m sorry I hurt your feelings,” he says sincerely, looking you in the eyes. “It was a silly argument, and I shouldn’t have been so stubborn.” 

You chew the inside of your cheek, sizing up whether he means it. “I…also could have been less stubborn,” you admit begrudgingly. Your tone softens. “I’m sorry I hurt your feelings, too. I didn’t mean to.” 

“I know, sweetheart.” Remus’ touch coasts from your hands up your arms as he pulls you closer to kiss your forehead. “Are we okay?” 

“Yeah,” you say, mollified. 

He smiles at you. “Hear that?” he says towards the door. “You can let us out now.” 

There’s no response. 

Remus frowns as you get out of bed, going to try the handle. The door comes open, revealing and empty hallway. 

“Pricks,” Remus mutters. 

You find your boyfriends in the living room, James flicking through channels on the telly while Sirius reads the back cover of your book. James notices you first. 

“Oh, hello.” He grins at you as Sirius looks over. “All sorted, then?” 

You’re half tempted to pretend you didn’t make up just to spite them. When you look over at Remus, you suspect he’s thinking the same thing. 

“That was sort of mean, lying to me like that,” you say to James instead. 

He looks a bit contrite, but Sirius says insouciantly, “You were never gonna do it by yourselves, babe. We weren’t ready to start divvying up the furniture because you wanted to have a row.” 

You kiss your teeth. “I think I might be having a row with you now.” 

“What, us?” James’ eyebrows rise above the frames of his glasses. “What for?” 

“You lied to us both to make us feel bad,” Remus reminds him, “and then locked us in the bedroom.” 

Sirius isn’t impressed. “Well, it wasn’t really locked, was it. If you’d gotten desperate, you could’ve taken it off the hinges. Or just checked again after a couple minutes.” 

“She broke her nail trying to get the window open.” 

You hold up your torn fingernail as proof. Sirius coos, reaching for your finger and bringing it to his lips while you scowl at him. 

“Sorry, lovie. We had a plan to bring you food in a couple hours,” says James. “We were even going to let you out for bathroom breaks if you needed to go.” 

“Really, you wrapped it up much quicker than we were expecting,” Sirius praises. He’s still holding your finger, drawing his thumb up and down the side in easy, consoling strokes. “We thought you’d ice each other out until supper at least. I’m quite proud of you.” 

Remus scoffs. 

“Oh, come now.” Sirius grins. “Give us a kiss.” 

You roll your eyes but turn to Remus, extricating your finger from Sirius’ grasp to meet him in a chaste kiss. 

The other boys cheer. “There we are!” James tilts his face up expectantly. “Now one for me.” 

You and Remus exchange a look. 

“No,” you say coolly, “I don’t think so.” The two of you go to sit on the far side of the couch, away from both Sirius and James with you curled against Remus’ side. He looks a tad smug as he puts his arm around you. 

“Oi!” says Sirius. “Look what you’ve done, you’ve made James pull his sad puppy face. What do you have to say for yourselves?” 

“You lied to us,” you say again, slowly, with emphasis, “and locked us in the bedroom.” 

Sirius scoffs. “So dramatic.” 

“Oh, that’s rich.” 

“Will it help if we say sorry?” James asks meekly. 

Remus looks at you. You shrug. 

“Maybe,” he says. “You’re more than welcome to try and find out.”

[gremlingottoosilly]

Beekeeping age [Dilf!Konig x fem!Reader]

You're ex-boyfriend is an asshole, so you decided to fuck his hot military dad instead. You're going to find out why his first wife ran as fast as she did, very soon - but Konig is still the best dick that ever happened to you.

CW: Daddy kink(obvi), power imbalance, possessive Konig, perverted Konig, age gap(Reader in her early twenties, Konig in his early forties), mentions of cheating(your ex is a douchebag anyway), slightly obsessive Konig, size kink, unprotected sex.

FIRST PART (can be read separately) AO3

— Why your wife left you, again? 

You stuff your face full of…something. He cooked it – gods did he cook it well. It’s meat and vegetables and spices, and it feels like your dad cooking but twice as good. It feels like pure sin because he says you shouldn’t worry about calorie counts or how fat the meat is, or how good everything tastes fried because he needs his special girl to feel good and healthy and fatten up a little bit, and you…gods, you’re down. Bad. 

You wonder if König’s wife left because she couldn’t compete with his cooking. You wonder if his wife left because he was feeding her too good. 

— Why don’t we leave uneasy questions for later, Schatzi? 

He brushes his hand over your hair, taking in the way you look – dressed up in his shirt, skin covered in bites and bruises from his hold. He can’t see it right now but can almost testify to the way your lipstick was all over his collar – good thing he wasn't wearing his uniform shirt, wouldn’t want to make dorks from Kobra jealous. 

He brings you another plate, he fills your glass – you never knew beer could taste this good, but he whispered something about having his own little homemade brewery for wine and beer somewhere in the mountains, in his Summer house. This man has a hug apartment in Vienna and a Summer house – you think you heard him having enough land to go hunting and to keep bees, and you might have cum a little bit just here and there. 

— I would like to know the story, actually. To not repeat her mistakes, you know. 

— You won’t, Liebling. I can already picture you with a ring on your pretty finger. 

— Not so fast. Maybe I don’t believe in marriage. 

— You’re too young to stop believing in it. 

— Way to talk when you’re the divorced one, sir. 

— Shut it, Schatzen. I can still take care of a good girl like you, ja? König leans in to kiss you, his lips brushing over your mouth – it’s wet and swollen, he bite you quite a few times already, and you feel dizzy just from the way his tongue lingers just a second before going in, taking your arousal even more. His hand gently brushes some hair from your face and you giggle from the sensation of his rough fingers on the softness of your skin. It never failed to mesmerize you, just how seasoned and old the colonel might be – and his hands would still tremble as if he is handling the finest porcelain doll in his hands. He has the expression of an anxious, devoted follower – you are not sure how his wife could left him. If he was looking at you like this every day, even as you go through with pregnancy and a piece of shit kid like Paul, you would die before leaving him. 

— Could you two please stop fucking each other? 

— I thought you wanted to move to dorms.

— This is my house too!

— Not on the documents, it’s not. — You can’t just throw me away, dad! — Your new stepmom needs her space. 

König grasps your shoulder as you try to stop them from arguing again – it’s embarrassing enough that you’re fucking your ex’s dad. Colonel makes it a whole fucking show, parading you around as his controversially young girlfriend, making sure that his son will hear your moans and whimpers as you get fucked at every surface of this apartment. You were wondering if you could ask him to move to the Summer house – even with your college and all. You can take a gap year and write a journalist investigation about lonely veterans and their mastery at brewing alcohol. You can take a gap year and try your best in the new trophy wife gig. König’s hand is firm on your shoulder – you know better than to try and argue with him, the silent recognition of authority loud in your head. You sigh, trying your best to just stop yourself from acting too damn weird. It’s their male thing, and you’re just an intruder in a big T-shirt and old leggings. König said it wasn’t his wifey’s – that he burned all of her stuff when she left. Somehow, you find peace in that statement. 

— How could you even…Jesus fucking Christ, this is disgusting. She is my age! — And the most beautiful girl in the world. I can see why you liked her. — She is my girlfriend! — Schatzi came to me in distress and begged me to take her. I think we both knew you weren’t…the best option. You feel more embarrassed with each second of their conversation. You don’t want to listen, you don’t want to take in their words, you feel like a trophy being discarded between two different winners. You feel like a prized mare on a farm – and they won’t even look at you. Too distracted by the sound of their voices, you eat your dinner in somewhat somber peace because you need to eat, after all, and you really like what König cooks. You like what König does most of the time. All of the time. 

Paul storms off the room after a few minutes of bickering. You feel guilty for not stopping him because he was still kinda your boyfriend. You ex-boyfriend. Your asshole incel-ish ex-boyfriend whose assholless literally made you go and sleep with his dilfy dad, and…god, you feel like a whore. Good. Paul was calling you a whore a lot of the time, you may as well take the new name and plaster it in your new badge. 

König’s hand lingers on your back, caressing it gently. You whimper because you feel bad and you’re still in college, and Paul’s disgusted reaction reminds you that fucking a guy in his forties isn’t the best business decision. Even if the said guy is a retired colonel with shitload of money, even if he still goes to work sometimes, just because he wants to feel cool and shoot guns at bad guys, even if this guy buys you cool gifts and he promised to renovate your car or buy you a new one, and he makes plans and takes you to places that don’t make you feel like begging for attention. 

If anything, you feel like he is drowning you with attention. 

His hand lets go of your shoulder – he was holding you so tight the whole conversation, you can sense the bruises forming on your skin. You lick your lips, and he moves to kiss you again. You feel like drowning, you feel like this is all just a dream – and you’re also drunk because gods, König knows how to make a good glass of…something. 

— You shouldn’t act like this. He is your son. 

He laughs dismissingly. He dismisses a lot of things you said – you think it’s the age difference. You think he is just being traditional, and you don’t want to be too nagging. You don’t want to end up like his wife and wake up from the dear you’ve been seeing. 

König’s lips are soft, and you can look past his hands, taking you too possessively – you can close your eyes, and you can just listen to his accent, smiling as his tongue worms its way into your mouth. He is good, you think – at this whole kissing thing. At this whole “Hi there, I’m a retired old dog and I am fucking the girlfriend of my only son. I’m divorced btw” .

He has experience – you know it when he tucks your lip between his teeth, when he massages your shoulders as you spread your legs already, so wet for him, it’s almost embarrassing. You never slept much with Paul – his poor excuse of a son – it was always never enough lube, it was always never enough attention, he always needed you to shave or to leave your hair to grow a little bit, it was either your perfume being too sweet or you no wearing anything at all. You thought he would have much more fun masturbating to his anime chicks and poor gaming sessions with his friends. 

But König isn’t like this – every time he drops on his knees to eat you out like a man starving, you feel utter and complete devotion. In his tongue, in his mouth, in his teeth as he sucks little marks into your thighs, making sure you will remember it tomorrow when he will ask you to stay for breakfast and then ride you to whatever you need to come next. Last time he promised to drive you to the library, he took a few turns and took you to some restaurant instead. You gushed about not having proper attire, he was still in his half-uniform and rocking dark cargo pants, and he was apologizing every time his fingers hit that special spot in your cunt as he fingered you during the second course of meals. He said that he was so, sorry about not fucking you properly, about having to resort to public displays like this – and you were too high on loving him to care. You still are. — I don’t think we should be…

— He left. Won’t bother us anymore. 

— I’m not in the mood right now. 

— You’re always in the mood, Schatzen. Enough to drive me crazy. — You’re a pervert. Like Paul. 

— He takes on after his father, ja?

It would alarm you how much contempt he had for his own child right now. Then, again, you were the one who dumped his son for the powerhouse of a dad. Maybe it was your daddy issues, maybe it was your dumb reasoning and the summer break that you didn’t want to spend with your family. Good thing you’re spending it with the other. 

König’s face is buried between your legs, his teeth tugging on the soft fabric, forcing your leggings down. God, it feels good – he is so high on wanting you, can’t even wait to take off your clothes properly. You never had a man wanting you so badly before – it’s addicting, it’s crushing, it makes you feel like a goddess among men. Makes you feel wanted, a thing that your ex never did. 

You forget about guilt when he kisses your lower tummy, when his lips trace down to your cunt, taking sharp licks through your panties. You wore them this morning, something from a new lacy set he bought – one of the only ones that weren’t torn off from your body the moment you took them on. He always wanted you to make these little fashion shows for him, making good use of his money – you weren’t a sugar baby, not on paper, you still clutched to the last traces of your dignity, but he did buy you a lot of gifts. 

— S’ pretty for me, Liebling. The prettiest girl in the world.

— I assume after…af..ter your wife. 

You giggle when he frowns, his rugged face filled with concern. He doesn’t like jokes about his marriage – you don’t want to ask him about it because it would mean waking up from a dream you want to experience over and over again, but you heard what Paul was talking about. What his mom told him about. you heard enough to know that kissing a man like König is a safety hazard and a liability that you can’t afford, but it’s warm, and he is rich, and you don’t want to go back to your part-time job this season. You want to be dumb and you want to be young – right now, you’re doing both. — Don’t be so dumb, Schatzi. Although it suits you. 

— I’m not dumb! 

— Nein, you’re not. Just silly. 

— You just call me a different type of dumb. 

— I like it when you’re dumb. Makes you cuter. 

König is awkward and funny, and he buys you things that you could never afford. He is mysterious and kind – to you, not his enemies – and he uses German words randomly in his phrases because he knows the accent, and the pronunciation drives you crazy. You never thought of thinking of yourself as a dilf hunter but, hell, here you are. With his dark ginger stubble – and grey streaks that make you go wild every time you look at him – between your thighs. It’s tickling, and it’s a bit irritating, and he will rub some calming lotion in your skin after this, making sure to cover every inch of your skin with some expensive cream that he knows jackshit about, but you wanted it, and so he went out and bought it. Gosh, you felt dumb even asking him for this. 

He traces his kisses along your thighs, tongue lingers to press against your wet, swollen folds. Flirting in front of Paul made you embarrassingly hot, solidifying you as a shitty, bad, horny person who needs fat cock stuffed in your leaking pussy. You lick your lips, and you tremble when he pushes his tongue inside. He is starving, pushy with all of his needs – makes you almost beg for it, like a pet he took from the street. 

— I want to take you to the Summer house next week. 

You open your eyes, shocked. It’s nothing, really, you shouldn’t be this surprised about him wanting to show off his other properties. You want to check out his wine cellar and how sturdy the furniture is. You want to see if he had deers running around the house. If he had any pictures of his family – and if you could ever hope to compete with his ex-wife. It’s a petty competition, but you don’t have much to do and to think about. It’s obvious the love here won’t last until the end of the break, and you want to get as much from it as possible. Maybe even some hot bikini picks at his pool. He has to have one. — What if I have plans, sir? 

It’s innocent and you play the role well. You think some of your friends wanted to hang out or make a study group for the upcoming semester. You are a good girl at heart, with nice grades and a perfectly played-out future, and not as many working opportunities as you may like, but you could manage with something. Writing a killer essay about your life with a smoke show during Summer would be easy with someone like him. 

He laughs, his hand lightly smacks your butt. You bite your lip and whimper, not accustomed to pain feeling this good. 

— You will change them, little one. For the whole Summer. 

— I wanted to study. 

You moan when he lightly presses his tongue on your swollen clit, kissing and licking it. Slick runs down your legs, and he collects it with his mouth. You whimper again, tears prickling at the edge of your eyes – the sensation is sudden and overwhelming, makes you get your hands in his hair and slightly tug. He groans, pleasure from having you so active, so participating is overwhelming. He loves you, loves you, loves you, adores you. God, you’re beautiful. And so, so restrained – just his special good girl. Only for him. — You can study at our house. 

— You mean you and your ex’s house. 

He smacks you again for the foul language – although you know you didn’t even curse, he is still punishing you. In the lightest way possible, of course, you know you won’t handle anything too harsh – still, you feel nice and warm when he isn’t just eating you out, but also smacks you for speaking in such unpretty words again. 

You don’t even register the way he called the house yours too. All too dumb for this, again. 

— I mean our house, Schatzen. Just you and your daddy, ja? You worry too much about studying. 

— I want a nice job. Without…distractions. 

He slips one finger in your warm, tight hole – even just one digit is enough to make you shiver, clenching it like a sloppy whore. He is big in every way – just two of his fingers are bigger than a normal cock, and no, you didn’t want to compare a son with his father, but even Paul’s cock, as big as it was, was still way thinner than his father’s. 

— Why you need a job? 

— Not everyone are retired military. I need money. 

— You have me. 

— I d…don’t want to be a sugar baby. Sir. 

— I have no problems with being your daddy, Schatzen.

König is build like a powerhouse – when he slips just the tip into you, ignoring all previous preparation because, by god, you both need to feel connected, he is dragging you on top of the table, tossing aside the dirty dishes with remains of his perfectly cooked dinner…and you feel like home. Almost. 

You imagine waking up with his cock every morning, and with the nice cup of coffee only he can make. You imagine him gushing about rebuilding the house and working on his tight and neat desk job at the mercenary company – something about instructing, dumb recruits, only the most elite missions as an operator in retirement, creating strategies and tactics for the warfare – and thinking that, wow, your husband is really cool. You shouldn’t be thinking this because this is just a summer fling. Your relationships with Paul weren’t too serious either, you just didn’t want to be alone. 

König gently caresses your fingers, whispering something about numbers – you think you could recognize the word for a ring a bit later when he was making a call to some friend. In German, of course, you don’t quite understand it, but you worm your warm on his lap like a spoiled cat, purring on his crotch like a good fucking girl. But it was a while later. 

Now, you’re gasping and panting, his cock spreading you open and stuffing you like the poor bird he was cooking for dinner. You know you won’t be able to walk after a short while – would probably have to spend the day at his house, with him cooing and gushing about your sore body while he is quietly proud of himself. If you’re lucky, you could convince him to let you go in the evening. If you’re not, he will ask you to stay the night, and maybe even a bit more, and then he will just get the bag with your stuff from your room in the dorm by himself, and then… — What do you think about getting married in August?

Maybe, you do know why his wife left him. 

[astonmartinii]

imgonnagetyouback [guilty as sin part four] | charles leclerc social media au

pairing: charles leclerc x fem sainz!reader

PR jail did a lot of damage, but unlike SOMEONE else, charles is ready for the apology tour

MASTERLIST | GUILTY AS SIN MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

note: the timeline is absolutely all over the place in this and for needs must pretend that the spanish and austrian races are swapped on the calendar!

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, oscarpiastri and 1,045,389 others

yourusername: i think your house is haunted, why are they always mad?

view all comments

user239: i have had it with little miss poet over here TELL ME IF MY PARENTS ARE DIVORCED OR NOT

user240: i hate that as this generation, them following each other on instagram is a key feature to whether they're still together or not

user241: my grandparents didn't have to go through this 😭

maxverstappen1: spill it sis

user242: WHAT DO YOU KNOW MAX

maxverstappen1: ummm nothing, and if i did i only take cash bribes. this is baby max relating hard to the caption

user242: oh :(

yourusername: oh maxy .... at least we now have good ways to express our emotions!

user243: ma'am he tore lando's wheel off because he can't handle wheel to wheel racing

liked by landonorris

yourusername: it's called hard racing, maybe mclaren should watch some of senna's old races instead of doing their 100th tribute livery xx

landonorris: you know he said you would do this exact thing, you can't handle anyone linked to your brother doing well

yourusername: oh i was perfectly prepared for you to win every race after miami since it was clear that the mclaren is the fastest car on the grid EVEN THOUGH you've publicly sided with them when anyone with a moral backbone (and a hint of PR awareness) would've run for the hills

landonorris: i'd really worry about the fact that the one piece of relevance you had left is no where to be seen, you're not worth defending for him

yourusername: it's insane the way you all have the same pompous attitude about this (i know that's a big word, but maybe you guys could get a couple of quid together to buy a dictionary)

maxverstappen1: also don't try and pretend 1. that you're completely in the right about everything that happened in austria 2. that you weren't scrounging around me (when we were friends i guess) trying to get details on y/n and charles

user244: okay this is wild

user245: i really thought lando would see the light on this

user246: or he realised that he can't race wheel to wheel unless he has the power of carlando friendship so he's burning bridges

oscarpiastri: i miss leo

yourusername: we literally are down the street bozo

oscarpiastri: i am ON MY WAY

user247: she's in monaco ???

user248: has to be, oscar only has a rental place he stays in london for mclaren and y/n has only ever lived in madrid or monaco

user249: there is still hope everyone

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, maxverstappen1 and 2,309,677 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: was i out of line? did i say something way too honest?

there are a couple things i need to get off of my chest.

first, a massive apology to my girlfriend. y/n is the love of my life and will be my wife sooner or later and i hate that as a 26-year-old grown man i haven't had the backbone to stand up to ferrari when it comes to her. she's incredibly strong and i hate that she's had to go through this without my public support. i can't take it back now, but if i could i never would've let them take my phone and take control of my social media. they have now been dealt with and no one will stop me declaring my love and support for her.

second, if i hadn't already ran out of patience before, the legal trouble that family have put their own blood through threw me over the edge. they will never, ever deserve that girl and if i have anything to do with it they will never talk to her ever again. i may have been silent online but money talks and we will have vindication soon.

third, a big thank you to max, oscar and ollie for their continued support of y/n. it means so much that the public still saw how loved she is when i couldn't.

four, i am awake and i am angry, these people will learn who they are fucking with. see you soon lecfosi, it'll all be worth it in the end.

view all comments

user254: WAR IS OVER

user255: my heart dropped when i got the post notification but this is the best news possible

user256: am i going to excuse a 26-year-old man for being a pussy? no. but i am going to celebrate him seeing the light and y/n having him back in her corner

yourusername: he was never out of my corner. true there was no public support, but he was there. i would rather have his support behind closed doors where it matters than plastered all over social media

maxverstappen1: you wouldn't believe the lengths these two were going, i became a messenger pigeon when they physically took his phone and the letters were so grossly cute

yourusername: that's literally mail tampering

maxverstappen1: and i'm a human not a pigeon, we can't all get what we want

charles_leclerc: i did i got y/n 😁😁😁

maxverstappen1: ugh welcome back gross instagram comments

user257: so that's what max meant when someone referenced letters that's so cuteeeee

user258: the shout out to max and the extended leclerc family i know that's right

oscarpiastri: anything for my grid mum

olliebearman: actually charles can you get your phone taken away again cause the heist was VERY fun

yourusername: heist???????

charles_leclerc: don't answer that ollie

yourusername: answer it ollie, did you put yourself in harms way ???

charles_leclerc: it was hardly high-stakes

olliebearman: we only stole a phone from silvia's office

yourusername: ollie that's kind of slay but i'm going to need you to delete all of these incriminating comments i don't want you to get in trouble for charles

user259: i know this is just eating up carlos inside seeing how loved she is in his sport

user260: it really does seem that lando is the only one in his corner

sebastianvettel: i am proud of you charles, i know how much ferrari means to you, but never let them take you from those who matter

charles_leclerc: thank you seb, i couldn't have done it without you

yourusername: we love you seb

sebastianvettel: my impromptu not at all prompted trip to maranello definitely wasn't to give you a well-earned slap up the side of the head

user261: no carlos bitching it up in the comments... i've been dreaming of this

maxverstappen1

liked by danielricciardo, yourusername and 1,734,037 others

tagged: charles_leclerc & yourusername

maxverstappen1: back to being a third-wheel, balance is restored - the united front of hating is BACK BABY

view all comments

user263: i prayed for times like this

user264: i know they didn't break up but i'm so glad y/n and charles are back together they're too pretty not to be in our faces 24/7

yourusername: just paying you back for you and kelly let me crash on the sofa

maxverstappen1: that really wasn't the burden you thought it was, jimmy and sassy loved their interactive cat bed

yourusername: i miss them (don't tell leo)

charles_leclerc: HOW DARE YOU MUM :((((((((

yourusername: okay baby we're not going to do that ...

charles_leclerc: but :( his feelings are hurt

yourusername: i know lewis is cool and will be your new teammate, but i draw the line at pretending to be leo in the instagram comment section

roscoelovescoco: watch urs backs

yourusername: AHAHAHHAHAHA

maxverstappen1: this man is about to turn 40

lewishamilton: you people ever heard of having some whimsy in your life

yourusername: i got sued by my own family 👍

lewishamilton: um yeah, sorry that happened to you

user265: y/n be ticking up the amount of drivers she's gone toe to toe with in instagram comments

charles_leclerc: you can finally eat my ice cream without trying to hide it

maxverstappen1: i think it's against my partnership contracts to publicly say that i like that ice cream

yourusername: don't worry baby we both ate three tubs and cried watching chick flicks while you were locked away in maranello

charles_leclerc: there's a reason a special edition strawberry flavour made its way to you

yourusername: i love you :(

carlossainz55: you might be "united" but you haven't won yet

charles_leclerc: do you ever shut the fuck up?

carlossainz55: oh someone finally found their voice

charles_leclerc: yeah i did which means you don't get to control the narrative anymore and i can call you a bitch

maxverstappen1: also if there was anyway we would lose, at least we are united, i can count how many friends you have left in this sport on one hand and two of them are your dad and your cousin

charles_leclerc: and watch out, clearly you guys aren't afraid to betray family, who knows it could be you next?

user266: i think charles is still being restrained but can we please at least get one day when he can fully go off his rocker

user267: i think we deserve it after all of it

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc and 1,764,094 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername: she's not only poet barbie but also lawyer barbie - THAT POETRY IS MINE BITCH, SUCK MY DICK AND RUN ME MY MONEY

view all comments

user268: i don't think i've ever been more happy for a stranger before in my life

user269: she deserves this so much i'm actually like over the moon

charles_leclerc: i'm so happy for you baby, i knew it would all be worth it in the end

yourusername: they can't stop my romantic ramblings now

charles_leclerc: i don't know if i want them to hear them all

yourusername: oh no some are for our ears only ;)

oscarpiastri: unfortunately it's NOT all just for your ears

olliebearman: for a millionaire i thought you'd at least buy a house with thick walls

maxverstappen1: you'll get used to it after a while

yourusername: THERE WAS CAUSE FOR CELEBRATION ARE YOU GUYS NOT HAPPY FOR ME ???

oscarpiastri: clearly not THAT happy

charles_leclerc: good. that would be entirely inappropriate

user270: finally some normal fucking couple stuff for y/n and charles

user271: their dynamic is so cute going from poetry to FUCKING

user272: i would be the exact same if i looked like either of them

fernandoalo_oficial: spoken like a real poet, i'm happy for you niña

yourusername: thank you pops !! couldn't have done it without you <3

fernandoalo_oficial: dealing with charles having close to a nervous breakdown every weekend was a lot, but i'm glad you have each other

charles_leclerc: thank you nando :)))) (i didn't have a nervous breakdown)

fernandoalo_oficial: you stress ate seven punnets of grapes

charles_leclerc: FERRARI I SWEAR I DIDN'T

charles_leclerc: wait i'm still annoyed at you ignore that

user273: i think charles is the first case of stockholm syndrome to a sports team

yourusername: @carlossainz55 come on i wanna tussle stop being a pussy

carlossainz55: enjoy your victory lap while you can, it won't last for long

yourusername: suck my actual dick, you put me through this i won't let you run away from it

yourusername: massive tip because i'm feeling generous, maybe actually come to court because there's a lot that you could know ...

carlossainz55: why would i waste my time on you?

yourusername: all will reveal itself

user274: oh it's finally on the other foot .... i'm enjoying this

user275: i think y/n and charles are too

f1tea

liked by user276, user277 and 21,056 others

tagged: carlossainz55

f1tea: sources close to us say that there is serious worry in the sainz camp after the courts decided they were unlawful in their actions against y/n sainz. the financial standings of the sainz family were already somewhat dyer before they took the youngest sainz' income but it's said to be even worse now they've had to pay damages.

in terms of f1, several of the teams that were interested in sainz were put off by the way he and his family were treating his sister but have fully backed out now the financial struggles of the sainzs has become clear.

this comes after a number of sponsors have ended their partnerships with the spaniard. where do you think he'll end up?

view all comments

user278: at the job centre hopefully

user279: i think this is what the kids call poetic justice

user280: the way charles just picked up a new sponsor... we love to see it!

user281: all the sponsors flocking to charles is so fucking real

user282: life comes at you so fucking fast

user283: in the words of his hero: KARMA!

user284: especially since fernando congratulated y/n on her win in court 😭

user285: bro can't even afford the tractor seat at williams i am HOWLING

user286: or at sauber, boy oh boy this is some great great content for a hater like me

user287: or HAAS and they fucking took nikita mazepin

user288: the next race can't come fast enough i wanna see how this guy spins it in the media

user289: for once in his life i can't see him spinning this is any way that makes him look good

user290: god i hope y/n is in the paddock as well

user291: oh gosh i need her diana revenge dress moment

user292: i don't care if that's your brother i need you to STUNT ON HIM

user293: other than y/n and charles, i know oscar is cheering at this news

user294: bro saw his grid parents get back together and his biggest opp be declared broke and jobless

user295: i really don't understand how y/n slutting round the paddock has been praised so much when her hopping from driver to driver has cost her brother his dream

user296: cope.

user297: also y/n has only ever been with charles DESPITE carlos and her father trying to pimp her out for favours

usr298: now we know this ^^ i don't understand why carlos was so annoyed that she was finally doing what they always wanted

user299: it was because it didn't serve him.

user300: he was probably happy y/n was with charles until he realised it was for you know an ACTUAL relationship rather than psychological teammate warfare

carlossainz55

liked by landonorris, marcmarquez93 and 104,889 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

carlossainz55: it was never 'true love' if all you ever wanted was to bag a trophy husband and never work again

view all commments

user302: posting a picture of charles' crash and tagging him is nasty business

user303: would've been iconic if i wasn't him

user304: also that caption just really isn't the read he thought it was

user305: i grew up watching posh spice and cheryl cole in the stands at england games like obvs people want to be with athletes

user306: also this guy pretending he doesn't have a revolving door of models who are just there to be wags

yourusername: yes? and.

yourusername: at least wag isn't my only job. you better hope that rebecca stays booked honey

carlossainz55: don't bring rebecca into this she has nothing to do with any of this

yourusername: awwww did you already cheat? that does track...

yourusername: also you've been slandering my boyfriend all over the internet and ON THIS POST so shut the fuck up i'll bring up who i want to bring up

carlossainz55: get the fighting words out, you might need them when charles questions why you just happened to fall into his lap

yourusername: you've stolen every last penny from me, sued me and tried to turn everyone i care about against me - and guess what? YOU'RE STILL STUPID

carlossainz55: i'm not stupid you're a gold digging slut and you WILL BE FOUND OUT

yourusername: i actually think i could play pinball with the one remaining brain cell in your head

user307: i know this is serious drama but YES SASSY Y/N IS UNLEASHED FROM HER LAWYER'S GRASPS

user308: someone TAP CHARLES IN

user309: please you're out of the ferrari jail NOW IS THE TIME

charles_leclerc: you think i'm going to be offended that the most beautiful girl in the world has always wanted to be with me?

yourusername: what if i told you i'm a mastermind?

charles_leclerc: i would say i'm impressed and FLATTERED

yourusername: and now you're mine :P

charles_leclerc: and i'm glad

charles_leclerc: and i am of the serious belief that even if you didn't seek me out, we would've found each other regardless

yourusername: you made me believe in soulmates

maxverstappen1: @carlossainz55 this post really didn't do what you thought it would lOL

oscarpiastri: bro is falling at every hurdle

carlossainz55: yeah, yeah fuck you two. i'll see you on the track

maxverstappen1: if you can get close enough :P

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc and 1,783,088 others

tagged: charles_leclerc & maxverstappen1

yourusername: siri play hoes mad

view all comments

user310: this girl is a bestselling poet and this is how she's captioning her instagram posts

user311: babe we're like months into a family war that has had whole ass court cases we don't need eloquent captions

oscarpiastri: where's that one tiktok audio

yourusername: that audio has gone platinum in our house, i think i've saved every edit with it and charles

charles_leclerc: they do slap every time

maxverstappen1: HOES MAD HOES MAD HOES MAD

yourusername: someone is enjoying this

maxverstappen1: i've been praying on these people's downfall since i was 17 i've got a fancy bottle of wine i've been waiting to open

yourusername: we've really been through the wars with these people

charles_leclerc: and ME

maxverstappen1: well here's to them being BROKE AS FUCK LOL

yourusername: cheers!

charles_leclerc: 🥂

user312: this has been some kind of crazy turn around

user313: considering we all thought they had broken up not long ago we have come SO far

charles_leclerc: i'd have the whole world mad at me if it kept you by my side

yourusername: i love you so much

user314: tbf i'd say a good 80% of people were mad at you when you were being ferrari's bitch

charles_leclerc: HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO SAY I'M SORRY

sebastianvettel: if it's any consolation, he was very torn up about it

yourusername: i know what happened charles, don't worry. i know you're dedicated to your craft and have people you want to win for

charles_leclerc: but i'm also dedicated to you

yourusername: we're in it together, forever now

yourusername: although this does mean ferrari have to deal with me now

user314: ugh they're so precious

carlossainz55: i'll have the last laugh don't you worry. you may have won the battle but you have not won the war.

user315: does this guy ever Shut the FUCK UP

user316: i'm bored. can't you just let them be happy

carlossainz55: no.

fin.

note: I'M SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG but here she is, can't tell whether i love it or hate it - probably because i've been looking at it so long xx i guess p5 will be out hopefully some time soon and i hope my tagging works

[nanivinsmoke]

✩ The Assistant.

✩ endeavor x assistant!f!reader

we all want to have him as our boss and fuck him, right?

✩ warnings & tags: it’s endeavor and im writing it, so you know there’s a bunch of hot sex involved. size difference, small age gap, creampie, pussy smacks, oral, semi-public sex, domination, established affair (enji’s seperated, but not divorced), implied sadism, breeding (possibility of a child).

there you were, underneath your boss’s mahogany colored desk; shoving his fat, can shaped cock further down your throat. eyes watering as he fills your mouth to the brim.

the number one hero tried his hardest to not throw his head back and let out a groan, while you devoured his cock. but, the way you handled his balls and sucked him like he was a cherry tootsie pop; made it harder for him and he quickly let out a thick load deep into your mouth.

a loud groan left his throat and his thighs quickly clench around your head; almost suffocating you while he cums. your eyes roll back into that pretty little head of yours, while a small yet powerful orgasm runs through you and he finally lets his thighs relax; making you release his cock from your pretty stretched out mouth.

a string of his cum mixed with your spit dribbled out of your mouth as you looked up into his icey blue eyes, smiling with satisfaction since you took his cock and fallen babies so well. he grabbed your arm and pulled you close to his torso, leaning down to kiss you; his leftovers mixing into his mouth.

“such a good girl for me.” he praised, biting your bottom lip before he pulled away; eliciting a whine from you. he zipped his softening cock back into his pants and helped you get up from under his desk, handing you a kleenex so you could clean your fucked face; before returning to your desk outside of his very spacious office.

you had been working with the number one hero for quite some months now. he had needed an assistant with this big promotion and from hundreds of recommendations, he hired you. and from that day on, something in him lit up and he decided to make you his dirty little mistress.

you knew Enji was married, since he still wore his wedding ring on his finger, but you didn’t care. his martial status meant nothing to you as long as he continued to pump you full of his cock on a daily basis. call it wrong, but that’s just how you felt.

waving at burnin as she passed by your desk and entered your office, you signed into your laptop and started going through your emails and looking over your boss’s calendar book. until, your phone chimed with a text from endeavor’s personal number.

it was a photo of his clothed bulge with a message underneath it.

- still hard. come let daddy drill this cock in you.

his dirty message made you clinch your thighs together and you quickly replied.

- i would if i could, got to reply to these emails and you’re still talking to burnin. how about i send you a video of me playing with myself, instead?

he quickly liked the message and you giggled. you quickly looked around to check if anyone was coming, before you held your phone up and spread your soiled panties to the side, dipping your fingers in between your drenched lips.

your stifled a moan by biting yours lips, thinking about what happened prior to this, making you cum within seconds. you rode out your orgasm and ended the video, hitting send; before you started typing on your computer again. you knew he would watch the video with his sidekick in his office, volume low along with the brightness. and a few seconds later, the blazin haired hero walked out & relayed that endeavor wanted to see you.

on cue, you walked right back into his office; notebook in hand and quickly closed the dark oak door behind you; before walking up to his desk. you watched as his muscles flexed and protruded through his black velvet sweater, while he pressed play to watch your sexy video once more.

“so pretty and wet for me…look at her clinch around nothing…so sexy~” he turns the phone so you could see, making your face hot and your thighs press together.

“you’ve got a meeting in a few mins,” you reminded, just in case he got a bright idea. and just like you thought, he did.

“get back under this desk and take daddy’s dick while they all pile in here. and if you make a peep, there’s going to be hell for you~” you knew he was serious from the way that he spoke, with your body acting on its own; you found yourself following his orders and dipping underneath his desk again.

you turned your clothed ass towards him, arching your back so he could plunge himself into you with ease. he unzipped himself from his corduroy confinements, freeing his throbbing fatness. he pushed up your skirt and ripped your panties off of your body, before pushing his swollen tip towards your tight entrance.

and as you backed yourself up onto his cock, his employees apart of the meeting came piling into his office, sitting on the black loveseats he had inside. you covered your mouth with your hands, smothering the moans that left your lips as his cock stretched your gummy walls to fit around him.

you would never get used to his sized, you felt like he would get bigger each time he fucked you, pushing your walls past its normal limits.

he did his best to control his facial expressions as he began talking about how they’ve been monitoring and controlling the nomu outbreak, while you fucked him.

your were now passing the pain threshold that came with fucking the number one hero and was now welcoming pleasure. you were more aroused than usual, thanks to the state that you were in. fucking your boss in a room with other’s, unbeknownst to them. pussy becoming wet with each glide around his cock, betraying you by making a squelching noise that could be heard by them.

but, endeavor was quick with putting on a video for them to watch; deafening the noise your pretty girl decided to make for him. you turned your head slightly, catching his gaze while you pushed your self deeper onto his shaft; mouth opening like a bitch in heat.

as you bounced your ass against him, your slick coated pussy became too slippery for his dick and he slipped out of you; causing a gush of air to flow out. an employee turned to see what that noise was, but when he saw endeavor’s stoic face, he quickly turned back around and continued to look at the video in front of him.

endeavor turned his attention back to you and gave you a look; pushing his cock back into you along with his thumb pushing into your other hole as punishment for making too much noise. you bit your finger tips so no one would hear you squeal, the next erotic sensation forced your mind to go dumb.

the way he fucked your cunt to his liking, pushing himself deep inside you where his tip kissed your cervix and rubbed your gspot with ease, made you unfold. eyes rolling back to the whites, cunt queefing with each movement; before he pulled himself out of you—replacing his finger in your ass with his cock; resting above your tighter hole. his own orgasm splayed out on your ass, jerking slightly as it pooled out from his tip.

you caught his eye once more, you could read the look on his face; he was far from done.

“meeting’s over,” he clicked off the flat screen tv, making all his employees look at him.

“but sir, we haven’t discussed—“

“get the fuck out, now” they weren’t trying to argue with him, quickly grabbing their things and leaving his office. it was without a doubt that they were afraid of him and no wasn’t the time to prove that. as the door closed behind the last person, he reached down and grabbed your hips, his cum dripping down between your cheeks as a result.

you sat on his lap, cock ghosting your entrance while he held you there, “didn’t i say you were going to get punished for making a peep?” his voice deep and serious, making you swallow the slight fear he gave you.

“im sorry—” you felt like your body was melting once he pushed himself back inside your cunt. how was he still hard? his libido always superseded yours. he didn’t let you adjust, his stiff dick bullying your hole with each pound, fucking you dumb once again.

“all ways so tight for me. god, i can’t stop fuckin this cunt” he sent a smack to your clit, causing you to jolt and clench down harder around him. he groaned at the sensation, sending another one to your sensitive bud. your soft mewls were like music to his ears, his dick throbbing repeatedly inside of you; he couldn’t wait to cum inside.

enji’s big hands reached around your chest and ripped your button up to shreds, buttons popping off and flying onto his big desk.

“enji!” you whined and he sent another smack to your clit, correcting you.

“daddy! I don’t have anything else to wear” you moaned when he pushed his cock further into you, cream slowly coated his base. he slowed his stroke down, making you whine once more. he loved hearing you call him daddy, it drove him insane.

“ill have someone bring you another one from the company’s closet. now be a good girl, while l finish fucking this pretty pussy of yours.” his speed picked up once more and he was drilling himself inside of you. he let out some groans, one more primal than the others as he creamed your pussy full of his babies.

he didn’t stop his movements after cumming either, pistoning his cock deeper inside of you; making your orgasm come down harder than the last. he made you squirt, hard, pushing his cock right out of your pussy—splashing his leaking head and his dark desk.

picking you up with his big hands, he stood you on your feet; legs wobbling from the amount of stress that was put on it seconds ago, before he bent you over his desk. his huge frame towered over your smaller one as he pinned your arms behind your back, pulling your skirt all the way down to your ankles and deepening your arch; just so he could re-enter you once again.

your ass rippled against his clothed pelvis, cream and slick sticking to the soft fabric, as he fucked you. you turned your head and was met with a picture of his estranged family and you couldn’t help but moan. taking someone’s husband’s cock in his office every day, knowing someone could walk in excited you. you were made to be his cock whore.

he gripped your wrists, arms bruising slightly from his grip while he pounded you relentlessly. you were cumming and so was he, the way his balls twitched and his stroke became rougher—you were going to be a good slut and take his last load.

“let me stuff you full of my babies again. want you pregnant with my seed~” you were so dizzy with cock, agreeing to his wish, drooling against his desk; while ropes of his cum flowed into you and your own orgasm erupting inside of you. you could see stars like one of those cartoon characters as you came, his dick slowing down inside of you; before he pulled out of you for the last time.

with a smack to your ass, he zipped up him pants and pulled you back into his chest; pressing his lips to yours; another way he dominated you.

“ill go get those clothes from the closet. put this on and stay here. also, when i get back clear my schedule; taking you back to my place so i can hear that pretty girl speak to me again~”

[harianaswhore]

⟡ ₘₐₓ ᵥₑᵣₛₜₐₚₚₑₙ ⟡

NONE OF THESE ARE WRITTEN BY ME

ᵐʸ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ʳᵉᶜˢ ᶠ¹ ʳᵉᶜˢ

— ᶠᴸᵁᶠᶠ ⟡

heaven is a place on earth with you - @lumi-nescentt

private professor - @sinofwriting

bow (^)

mornings with max - @verstappen-cult

max is the type of guy to... (^)

distractions - @starlost97

showering max with compliments - @lovings4turn

pining and yearning - @theemporium

getting spoiled (^)

i pay attention (^)

drunken confessions - @formulaforza

love at midnight - @unformula1

what are we doing here - @ferrstappen

dude i have a boyfriend - @auggieblogs

morning kisses - @adventuringblind

go ahead and smile - @foreveralbon

matchmaker pets - @the-flaneur

coworkers - @nathaslosthershit

at least for the pictures - @love44lew

love sick - @mrsfancyferrari

into you - @mv1simp

handprints (little sexual) - @uglyducklingofthe2000s

well you are tiny (^)

man vs teddy (^)

written by a woman (^)

the big bad lion (^)

zandvoort (crash, injury) - @frogstappen

trust me - @postracehair

— ᴬᴺᴳˢᵀ⟡

a fool's flowers - @leclucklerc

too hot to handle (injury) - @pucksandpower

unremembered (^)

until next time (death, reincarnation, soulmates) (^)

drunk walk home - @everythingne

a found family (tw: jos verstappen) - @softtdaisy

a second chance - @charlesslut16

navy fury (tw: jos verstappen) - @delulujuls

love me harder - @ynsbarbbb

you're my forever- @talkdutchtome

protective max (tw: jos verstappen) - @formulaa-1

— ˢᴹᵁᵀ⟡

a different light - @userlando

fallen petals (very angsty) - @captain-barnes-writes

big 'ole freak - @mariahcarreyyy

can't you see - @cherry-leclerc

flustered tweets (suggestive) - @charles-leclerizz

i can do it better - @pia-nor481

needy - @bunnys-kisses

"who's my pretty girl?" (^)

with the red dress on - @aliwritex

— ˢᴼᶜᴵᴬᴸ ᴹᴱᴰᴵᴬ ⟡

smitten - @chrisevansonly

hard launch - @archiverstappen

appendix touch (^)

finish line - @norris55s

we're on each other's team (^)

do-over - @maplesyrupsainz

just screeching tires & true love (!!!!!!mentions of SA!!!!!!!) (^)

getaway car (there is a first part but that is more (toxic) charles) - @landitolover

children of divorce - @landonfour

bejeweled - @poetsblvd

thighs don't lie - @thepersonnamedsam

teddy bear - @astonmartinii

teacher's pet (^)

can i call you rose? - @f1version

broken - @onlyangel4

potion (^)

friend of a friend - @norrisainz33

— ˢᴱᴿᴵᴱˢ ⟡

when i speak, he listens so i'm the villan no point in fixing it winners always win they'll never shut up - @uglyducklingofthe2000s

mouse (^)

one two three (smau) (harry and f1 in one fic is everything) - @alonetimelover

max & the three musketeers (smau) (this is so funny i was hollering) - @verstarppen

strawberry wine - @scuderiahoney

little leclerc gets married to max (smau) - @theemporium

pre-gala the real prize jealousy panties captivity rocky escaping thighs consquences a mile high new beginnings (each part has sexual content) - @dilemmaontwolegs

world's biggest fan two (smau) - @astonmartinii

into the arms of another two three four (smau) (^)

please, oh please two - @sinofwriting

he had it coming (smau) - @youreverydayfangirl