#honey bee hand soap

[ohbo-ohno]

Kinktober Day 31 - Free Use

Poly 141 x Reader - 4.3k (on ao3)

summary: Glimpses into your life as a housewife and free use toy for the 141 post-retirement. (Reader POV, second person)

cw: soft sex, half-drunk sex, light somnophilia, anal sex

note: last kinktober of the month! sorry i got off by a day at the end here, but i hope you guys have enjoyed everything so far :) btw this is less "free use" and more "sex with the 141 while living in domestic bliss"

Your days are filled with sex. Sex with all of your boys, in every position you can think of, in every room of the house they’d bought for the five of you after retiring. 

You all split the chores evenly these days. No one does more than they’re more comfortable with, and you’ve all found your stride, something to give you purpose, after the rigidity of the military.

Gaz has taken to bee-keeping. As odd as it sounds, he’s got the patience for it, and he’s quite protective of his bees, even has nearly an entire library of books he’s taught himself with. Price helps him out by selling the honey he harvests, keeping track of his profits and managing the household’s finances. 

Ghost hunts, spends his days out finding game to bring home, tracking herds and predators around your property. Johnny does a little of everything - fixes things when they break, chops firewood every morning, helps Simon skin his prey, tries to help Gaz and his bees. 

And you take care of the house. You make the meals, clean up after everyone, and find yourself perfectly happy to keep your men fed and warm. 

Your other chore is to bend over whenever they want. Well, bend into any position whenever they want, Ghost and Soap tend to enjoy getting a bit more creative. It’s not really much of a chore, considering how eager you are to do it.

It’s a great deal for you. Johnny and Kyle are always eager to get you off, and neither Simon nor Price is stingy with the orgasms these days either. You live your life floating between domestic labor and orgasms - not a bad existence, by your metric. You get to live without a care in the world, four men to take care of and four men to take care of you. It’s like a dream come true.

———————————————————————

You hum to yourself as you dance around the kitchen, wearing nothing but a frilly apron as you wait for your pancakes to cook. The small radio on the dining room table plays music from a local radio station, something cheery to start your day. It’s hard not to smile, with sunshine pouring in from the windows and a batch of fresh eggs to scramble on the stove. 

Your small moment of bliss is interrupted by a pair of hands on your hips and a large body bracketing yours.

There isn’t even a moment of fear, you instinctually lean back into the man behind you. A moment later, a rough beard brushes over your cheek.

“Pancakes this mornin’?” Price asks, big paws resting on the softness of your hips.

“Hmm,” you hum, tilting your head to claim his lips. He sways the two of you back and forth slowly, to the beat of the song, and lets you take your time with him. “Blueberries in yours,” you tell him when you come up for a breath of air.

One hand shifts to your ass, the other to your stomach, and you feel him smile. “Thank you, love. Got time for a quick round before they burn?”

You mimic his smile, let him bend you over slowly. “You’re just in time, Captain, I haven’t cracked the eggs yet.”

“Perfect,” he purrs, pressing himself to your backside. He tucks his plaid pajama pants down a little, rubbing his warm morning wood against you. You fold your arms beneath your head, let your eyes drift closed as his fingers make quick work of getting you ready.

Moments later, the heavy length of his cock fills you slowly. You moan, shifting your legs a little bit wider as he massages your waist.

“There you go,” he sighs, bottoming out and grinding himself slowly inside of you. “Tight as always, perfect girl.”

You giggle a little drowsily, wiggling your hips against his. “Always for you, John.”

He sighs contentedly, pulling out slowly. “Don’t I know it.”

He fucks you slowly, a steady pace that drags against all your most sensitive parts on every thrust. John’s thick, and the stretch isn’t quite comfortable with no prep. But you’re still a little loose from your time with Soap and Gaz last night, so it’s far from painful to take him.

He hunches over you as he gets closer and closer to the edge, elbows resting on either side of you and breath ghosting across your nape.

“Aw,” you hear Soap say,voice rough from sleep as he steps into the kitchen. “I wanted first go today.”

“Early bird gets the worm, Johnny,” Gaz teases, settling into a chair in the little breakfast nook Simon had built soon after moving in. “You’re the one who stayed up so late with her last night.”

“Wasn’t just me, jackass, you’re the one who-”

“Boys,” Price grunts, hips slamming against yours, leaving you squirming beneath him. “Will you shut the fuck up while I’m balls deep in our girl?”

You can’t help but snort beneath him, pushing yourself up enough to arch your back further, stick your ass further out for him. “Ye-yeah, boys.”

“Hush,” Price scolds, one hand shifting to your neck where he forces you flat to the counter again. “‘M almost there…”

He groans lowly as he buries himself deep inside of you, pumping slowly as you tighten up, trying to milk him. “Fuck, feels good…”

You smile against your arms as the pleasure that had been building inside of you starts to dull to a simmer, something warm in the root of you.

Price pulls out only moments later, two thick fingers tucking into you to keep any of his come from dripping out. “Keep me safe inside you, pretty thing, c’mon. Clench down.”

You take a deep breath and try your best to listen, straightening up and doing your best to keep yourself from dripping down your thighs. 

He turns you around, leaning you back against the counter and cupping your cheeks in his hands, tugging your face up to give you a soft kiss. “Thank you,” he whispers into your mouth, just quiet enough for you to hear.

“Of course.” You reach up to grab his wrists, holding him close. “Never gonna say no to you, John.”

The two of you linger in the moment, sunlight warming your skin as you breathe into each other.

It’s Soap that interrupts you, an intentionally obnoxious clearing of his throat nearly making you jump. “Any chance at coffee sometime today, bonnie?”

You huff a laugh into Price’s mouth, pushing him away and shooting a half-playful look to Johnny. “Can’t give me a minute of peace, can you?”

He smirks, “Nope.”

John scoffs as he pulls away, moving you with him and giving you a quick tap to the ass to send you over to the counter with the coffee machine. “Someone’s gotta teach you some patience, MacTavish.”

“If Ghost still hasn’t gotten it into him, no one is,” Gaz laughs, shifting enough for Price to join him on the bench. 

“Who says I haven’t?” Ghost says, stepping from the hallway. He’s already got a cigarette lit between his lips, and you wave him away with a spatula.

“No!” You scold, trying to shoo him closer to the window. “No smoking in my house! You know I hate the smell.”

Ghost rolls his eyes good-naturedly but lets you herd him to the open window, resting a shoulder on the windowsill and blowing a mouthful of air. You hmph, satisfied, and move to flip the pancakes. “You’re not the one who has to get that smoke out of all the furniture, you know.”

Ghost sighs, but he’s dramatic enough about it for you to know that he’s intentionally exaggerating his annoyance. “Awful early for all that nagging, woman.”

You glare at him playfully, picking up an egg to crack. “Awful early for a cig, too.”

He huffs and you crack your egg, the kitchen shifting into a comfortable silence. You continue your humming as the song changes to something more upbeat, unable to keep a smile from your face.

———————————————————————

You’re half tipsy, giggling into Soap’s mouth as the two of you stumble into the house. You manage to trip over the lip of the entrance, and you yelp as you start to fall.

Johnny just barely manages to twist and catch the both of you in time, grunting loudly as he hits the ground. The breath is knocked from the both of you, and you lay there in the dark for a moment, still.

You’re giggling as soon as you can breathe again, unable to stay still with all the energy and wiggling against his chest. “Jo-Johnny!”

“What?” He pants, still not fully able to take a breath in. You can see the outline of a smile, though, and his hands come up to fully cup your ass. “You were the one taht tripped, lass!” 

That only makes you laugh harder, kicking your feet against his shins. “I-I know!”

Now he laughs, a full-bellied sound that has you bouncing on his chest. He manages to push himself up so that you’re in his lap, and presses his mouth to yours without warning.

You make a high sound of surprise but quickly kiss him back, licking into his mouth when he parts his lips. 

Your kiss is messy, both of you a little too drunk and a little too needy to bother for tact. Johnny’s softer than he usually is, all tongue and no teeth. You wrap your arms around his neck, shifting so your knees rest on either side of him and squeeze his hips.

“Need you,” he pants into your mouth, shifting you over him to start a slow grind. “Need to be inside you, bonnie.”

“Yeah, please,” you say, quickly dropping your hands to his belt and clumsily working at his belt. It takes several tries for you to get it undone, and both of you get more and more desperate. Your underwear get more and more damp as you work yourself over the rough denim of his jeans, your skirt rucked up around your hips as he palms at your ass.

“Come on,” he growls, landing a harsh slap against the meat of your thigh. You yelp at the sting, then giggle, and finally manage to get his belt loose, quickly tugging it off.

“There you go,” you mumble, throwing the belt to the side and hearing it slide against the hardwood. “C’mon, c’mon, need you now, Johnny.”

He nearly snarls into your mouth, jerking your panties to the side and stuffing two fingers into you with no warning. You jolt higher on your knees and moan, digging your nails into his shoulder.

“Sit still,” he growls, tugging you back down and scissoring his fingers quickly to spread you. He slips a third finger in easily, your cunt already slick and dripping for him. “Stop fuckin’- stop wigglin’ around.”

You can’t help but giggle again, pushing your smile against his lips and nipping at his chin. “Can’t hold me down, MacTavish?”

You feel him grin, growling playfully, and before you can keep prodding him he’s got you flipped onto the floor beneath him. You squeal when he somehow manages to keep his fingers inside of you, pushing deep as he pins you down. He tucks your knees higher, both of your legs resting on his shoulders.

“I’ll show you held down, lass,” he growls, smile just barely visible above you. “Want it rough, then?”

You bite back another laugh, pushing up just enough to bite his bottom lip and tug it down with you. “As rough as you’ve got, MacTavish.”

It works as the perfect taunt you’d meant it as, and he’s buried in your tight heat before you can try and push him any further. Your head falls back against the hardwood floor as his falls to your throat, both of you moaning loudly as his hips meet your thighs.

“Fuck,” he groans, teeth pressed against your throat. When you arch your neck even further, he bites into your flesh, sucking a hicky and making you ever wetter between the thighs. “Fuck.”

“She tight, Johnny?”

You both yelp at the sudden voice, Johnny jolting away from your neck and shifting inside of you, causing you both to melt again.

There, in the corner of the room, is Ghost. He’s smoking a cigarette by the window, illuminated only by the glow of his cigarette butt and the moon. You can’t quite see his expression, but you can just imagine the cocky smirk.

Johnny groans above you, sinking back down to press kisses along your throat and forcing your knees almost to the side of your head. “Scared the shit outta’ me, Ghost,” he sighs, pulling out just enough to give you a few tiny thrusts. You moan, letting yourself relax into the floor.

“Not surprised,” Ghost says, and you watch as he stubs out the cigarette and take a few steps to where the two of you are tangled in each other. “How much did you two have to drink?”

You laugh at the question, but it melts into a moan as Johnny starts to find a rhythm that works for both of you. Your knees nearly knock against your own face as he makes his way across your neck, leaving bruising kisses. 

“Not-” you choke a bit on a particularly rough thrust, just barely managing to keep your eyes open and watch as Simon settles into an armchair. “Not that much.”

“Yeah,” Johnny pants, lifting himself up enough to look down at you. “How-how much’ve you had, L.t.?”

Ghost snorts, taking a swig from a beer bottle you hadn’t noticed before. “Less’n you two, I can tell that much.”

You and Johnny both snicker, half out of breath already, but none of you try and keep speaking as Johnny starts to really fuck into you, finding a perfect rhythm that’s just a little messier than usual, a little jerkier. 

The two of you make no attempt to be quiet, moaning and whining loudly as you work to find that peak. Even with folded in half as you are, you try to push into him as much as you can to help him hit the perfect spot inside of you. 

You nearly scream when he does, clenching down so tightly onto him that he’s forced to a still inside of you, his length throbbing in time with your heartbeat. 

The world blurs around you as Johnny takes your lips again, pressing your tongues together in a slick slide as he batters inside of you.

“Clo-close,” you gasp, clawing down his shoulders. Your nails dig in enough through his shirt to have him moaning, arching further into your touch.

“Me too, bonnie.”

He shifts enough to lean his weight further onto your thighs, newly freed hand smoothing down your chest and stomach to work against your clit. You melt beneath him, muscles going loose as you turn into nothing but a limp doll for him to fuck.

Your eyes squeeze shut as your orgasm starts to overcome you, Johnny’s work against your clit and the hot length inside of you finally shoving you over the edge.

“Fuck- fuck!” Johnny nearly shouts above you, your orgasm triggering his own. You cling tight to him, dragging his body as close to you as possible while your muscles clench down around him. The two of you are nearly drooling in each other’s mouths, eager for as much physical touch as possible.

It feels like an impossible amount of time later when you hear Ghost crouch down next to you, see his shadow cast over both you and Johnny. “You two done, then?”

You feel Johnny huff where he’s leaned against your cheek, feel his smile grow against yours. 

“Yeah, Si,” you say, squirming a bit beneath Johnny to try and get out from under him. “I think we’re done.”

Johnny gans a little but he obliges and shifts back enough for his softened cock to pull out of you. You both whine in sync at the separation, and he finally lets your legs fall to the ground, heels thudding against the floor.

Johnny rolls off of you, flopping to the floor next to you. “Carry us to bed, L.t.”

You giggle and blink up at Simon, softened from your orgasm and the lingering buzz from your night out. “Yeah, L.t.,” you lift your arms high, making grabby hands like a toddler. “Carry us to bed.”

Ghost snorts above you, but he still leans down and scoops you up beneath the knees and the back. You squeal when he hefts you over his shoulder into a fireman's carry. He ducks low again and you grasp onto the bottom of his sweatshirt, then giggle when Johnny flops bonelessly over Ghost’s other shoulder.

He carries the two of you effortlessly down the hall, and Johnny’s soft laugh joins yours - well, at least before you hear a muffled slap and he quiets himself/ Of course that only makes you laugh, earning you a spank of your own.

You’re dropped rather carelessly onto the massive mattress all five of you share these days, hand flopping against what you’re sure is Price’s chest as Ghost falls on top of Johnny where he’s dropped.

You hear a muffled oof! from next to you and curl into Price with a smile, tucking yourself close to his chest. He rumbles a low noise, instinctually tucking you close. You can hear Gaz getting annoyed with Ghost and Soap, feel him kicking at them to fight for his own spot on the mattress. You fall asleep with Ghost’s back to yours and Price’s chest to yours, surrounded by warmth.

———————————————————————

You groan into the sheets in frustration, fists clenched tight. “Simon, come on, please.”

He spanks you sharply, but the pain is hardly noticeable compared to the need you’re drowning in. 

“Quiet,” he grunts, three fingers spreading your ass. “Need to stretch you out properly, don’t want any tears.”

You whine, arching your back and pushing your ass further into the air. “I’m ready, I promise, just need you inside. I’ve been stretched for the last ten minutes!”

“And you’ll get stretched for ten more if you don’t quit complaining.”

It’s almost impossible to bite back a complaint at that, but you manage to dull it down to just a near-painful eye roll. You try your best to stay still for him, stay patient, even as you feel like your pussy is dripping like a faucet.

Ghost has fucked you with far less prep than this, you know he’s just trying to be an asshole - no pun intended. You also know that the more you rush him, the slower he’ll go. So you force yourself a little looser, let your body sink more comfortably into the position he’s got you in.

It doesn’t make the wait any easier.

You’re not sure how long it’s really been when he finally deems you stretched enough, but he finally pulls his fingers free. You whimper at the cold dribble of lube as he spreads a bit more across your stretched hole, the slick sounds echoing in the room telling you he’s likely spreading it across himself too.

“Alright, love,” he says, notching himself at your back hole with both hands on your hips. “Loosen up for me now.”

The stretch is sinful as he finally gives you his cock, enough for you to feel the sting but not at a painful point. Your eyes roll back in pleasure instead of frustration, and your knees shift just a little wider to welcome him more fully into your body.

“Fuck, you feel good<’ he grunts, grip tightening on your hip.

On a normal night with Ghost, you’d expect minimal prep and long rounds of edging. He likes to keep you from coming for as long as possible, then coax an orgasm that feels earthshattering from you when he finally shoves you off that ledge. Either that, or he fucks you quick and dirty - in the yard outside, in the shower, in the middle of the night, really any time he feels like getting off. With you around, there’s no need to masturbate. That leaves you getting bent over and used at any time he feels the slightest urge to get off, but you couldn’t mind less.

Now, though, Ghost paces himself far more slowly than usual. His thrusts are long, bottoming out and pulling back until the head of his cock just barely breaches your hole. If you couldn’t feel the way his hands bruise your hips, you’d almost call his pace leisurely. 

The two of you are near silent as he fucks you, content to fill the air with soft moans and the occasional whine instead of dirty talk. It feels nice, such slow sex with Simon. It’s a side of him he rarely lets you see, even now.

He knows you can’t come from anal alone, and is feeling generous enough to grab one of your hands and shift it down, telling you, “Rub your clit for me, love. Wanna feel you come.”

And, well, who are you to disobey?

You bring yourself to a slow, rolling orgasm with rhythmic circles against your clit, hips working against his even with his grip. You moan more loudly now, moith open and spit spreading across the pillow.

“Si-Simon,” you gasp. “Feels so good, so deep.”

“Yeah? Deep in your ass, huh, love?”

“Mhmm, mhmm. Can hardly br-breathe around you, Si.”

“I know, so big in your little hole. You’re taking me well, though, being such a good girl for me. Gonna - fuck, love - gonna make me come, give you a nice load then plug you up.”

“Yes, yes…”

“You want that? Want to be stuffed with my come? Keep me inside of you ‘til I say you can take the plug out?”

“Yes, I’ll keep it in for you, Si, be so good for you.”

“Oh, I know it, love. Always a good girl for me, most perfect girl… fuck, feel so good around me…”

He groans when he finally gets himself off, pulling you back onto his harsher thrusts and letting your channel squeeze the come from him. You rub your clit a few more times, ignoring the aftershocks in favor of forcing your muscles to milk him a bit.

When he finally pulls out, he tucks a good-sized plug into your loosened hole before any of his come can slip out. You shift from your knees to your stomach with a soft hum, tugging a pillow into your arms as your eyes drift shut.

“You stayin’ in here for a bit?” Ghost asks, brushing some of your hair away from your face and dipping down to press a dry kiss to your cheek.

“Hmm. Gonna take a nap before dinner.”

“Alright. Need any help tonight?”

“No,” you hum, curling deeper into the bedding. “You can set the table, if you really want.”

You hear him laugh as he pulls away, weight shifting off of the mattress. “I’ll leave that to Johnny, I think.”

A few moments later the door click softly shut behind him, and you float into a peaceful slumber while trying to half-plan dinner. 

———————————————————————

You’re half-asleep when you feel someone shift in bed next to you, their body covering yours. There’s a distinct hardness against the small of your back, and you press back against him.

“Stay still,” you hear Gaz whisper in your ear as he urges you further onto your stomach. You hum a little in response as he settles over you, kneeing your thighs apart enough for him to rest between them. “Don’t wanna wake anyone else up, right sweetheart?”

You hum again in what’s probably supposed to be agreement, but is really just a half-asleep sound. You trust all your boys, though, so you’re perfectly content to let Kyle do whatever he wants.

You sleep naked these days, so it’s easy for him to spread your cheeks a bit, to rub at your folds. You’re still a little damp from the shower sex with Price you’d had right before bed, and Kyle doesn’t seem to think you need much more than that.

You’re almost asleep again when you feel the tip of his cock at your hole, and then the familiar weight of him entering you. It’s hard not to groan, especially when you’re so dazed, but you think you do a good job.

Well, until Kyle shushes you loudly, stuffing a few of his fingers into your mouth. 

You make a small offended noise, but it shifts into a sound of pleasure when he sinks fully inside of you.

“Hush. Don’t wanna share you right now, just needed to feel you for a bit.”

You feel his hips shift against yours before he sort of falls to the side, taking you with him. You’re left spooning him, his cock buried deep inside of you and kept warm by your body.

He sighs, pleased, against your back and pulls his fingers from your mouth, letting his hand float down to rest on one of your breasts. He squeezes you for a few moments, but that only works you up more and has you squirming against him.

Kyle makes a small, whining noise and squeezes you more tightly to him. “Stay still, love. Just want to hold you, let you hold me. Go back to sleep, yeah?”

You sigh, debate trying to get him to finish what he started, but ultimately decide that it sounds like far too much work for your current state. 

So instead you let yourself relax into Gaz, body quickly adjusting to the weight and stretch of him. It’s easier than you might’ve thought to doze off like that, held close to Kyle’s chest.

[tofics]

Nothing Like Some Neighborly Love

Part 1 - Series Masterlist

Pairing: no outbreak!Joel Miller x fem!Reader

Summary: Goodbye New York, hello Austin! - After a split from your ex, you're in dire need of a fresh scenery. Texas seems to provide just that. Your grandmother, fresh out of a hip surgery and in need of assistance, is happy to have you move in with her as a solution for both of your predicaments. Ever the hands-on person that she is, she also seems to want to rectify your fresh singleness, and she knows just the guy...

Word Count: ~4500 words

Warnings: mentions of a manipulating ex, mentions of cheating, mentions of a surgery, age gap (reader is early 30s, Joel is an unspecified amount (~10-15 years) older than her)

Your arrival in Austin, Texas is anything but spectacular. Besides your bags being some of the first to appear at baggage claim absolutely nothing out-of-the-ordinary happens - it's about as normal as a Monday-morning flight can be.

Not for you, though. Today marks the first day of your new life.

No big deal.

Except it's a huge deal. With every inch that you put between yourself and your old life in New York, you feel your shoulders relaxing a bit more and the tight-knit knot in your chest loosening.

Finally, at long last, you're free.

Free of the asshole that, up until a couple of months ago, was your boyfriend, your roommate, your co-worker.

Your lying, manipulating source of self-doubt, tears and misery.

Good fucking riddance.

"Oh honey, c'mere you!" Your grandmother pulls you into a surprisingly tight hug. For a lady who had hip surgery just two days ago, she seems to be at the top of her game.

"Gammy," you smile and return her embrace, even if not as forcefully. Strong arms or not, she did just come out of the hospital. Better to be a little more careful.

"Come in, come in! Let's get you out of that heat." Your grandma shuffles out of the door and down the hallway with the help of her rollator. You step into the house after her, dragging your two suitcases behind you.

Everything looks just like you remember. The beige carpet that flows from the hallway into the open living room and up the stairs, the brown tiles of the kitchen area, the light flowery wallpaper on the walls - as far as you can tell, not a single thing has changed. It even smells the same, like fresh laundry and soap and a faint hint of your grandmother's perfume.

You can't imagine a more comforting scenery after everything you've been through.

"How was your flight, honey? And do you want anythin' to drink?"

If it wasn't for the rollator, it'd be hard to tell that your grandmother just had a major surgery. She's already bustling about in the kitchen when you enter the open living and dining area, moving at the same speed you've always known her to. Watching your grandmother at work is like watching a busy bee, always doing something, fingers always moving. It goes without saying that your grandmother is not a woman known for sitting still or taking a break.

You already know her answer, but you have to ask anyway. "Gammy, shouldn't you be resting?"

"Restin', restin'. I hear that damn word one more time, I'm gon' have a fit!" She drops two ice cubes of frozen iced tea into each cup, then adds a lemon slice. "Doctor's said I'm s'posed to be movin'." The ice cubes clink and crackle when she pours fresh iced tea on top. "You told me to follow them orders!" Your grandma shakes the big spoon your way accusingly and you can't help but grin at the image.

"That's true, I did. I also said I'd move here to help you, grandma."

"Honey, if I can't pour no more damned iced tea, I want you to put me in my grave. Until then, I'll pour my own drinks. Now get on over here n' take those glasses over to the couch, will ya?"

You do as you're told and sit down next to your grandmother on the couch, making sure to use coasters for your drinks. Glass rings on the furniture did not go over well in this house.

"See? I can ask for help just fine." Your grandmother winks at you and then clinks her glass against yours. "Cheers, baby. Now tell me, how was your flight?"

"It was fine. Boring, uneventful. Just how I like my flights to be." A sip of your glass floods your mouth with the taste of your childhood summers, sweet and lemony and filled with your grandmother's love to the brim. There's no other iced tea quite like it.

"Good, good. And how are you doin', baby? Hm?" Her hand squeezes your thigh as her eyes roam over your face. You know the look: it's the look of scrutiny, the same one she uses any time she wants to get the truth out of someone. You've seen it being given to your mother, your father, your grandfather, even neighbors. You yourself have been at the receiving end of it a few times in your life. The result is always the same - the truth. Your grandmother is not a woman that's lied to.

"Honestly? I feel like a massive weight has been lifted off my shoulders." You sigh, both for effect and because it's true. Setting foot onto Texas soil was already liberating, but sitting in your grandmother's living room has you relaxing more and more by the minute. "I'm just so glad to be here. This couldn't have come at a better moment. Not saying I'm happy you had to get hip surgery, you know, but I'm just glad it all worked out with you needing help and me needing a new place to figure out where to go from here."

You squeeze your grandma's hand on your thigh and she puts hers right on top, squeezing you back. "Oh, hush. Y'know you're welcome here anytime, and I'd much rather have you here t' help me out than some stranger comin' into my house every single day."

Despite your circumstances, you can't deny how lucky the timing of it all has been. Your relationship had been crumbling for months and it seemed like no matter what you did, all your efforts were in vein and largely not reciprocated. To make matters worse, your job was suffering under the pressure of your dissolving relationship as well. You and your boyfriend worked at the same elementary school, you being a teacher and him being the principal, and while sharing a workplace and commute had been something out of a dream come true for the first two years together, it quickly posed a problem when your first problems emerged.

The final nail in the coffin came in the form of him being the nail and the coffin being his secretary. It was so cliché that you didn't know whether to laugh or cry when you first found out. In the end, you did neither, just packed your things and left. That part was easy, with a circle of friends who offered up their couches and open ears immediately. The work part? Not so much. By now you'd say that working under your ex while another woman was actually under him was the worst part of your final months in New York.

You needed to get out. You were already out of your joined flat, the job was the next thing to go. Then your grandmother mentioned she'd need to get surgery on her hip and just hated the idea of having a stranger coming to her house every single day to help her with her day-to-day errands.

The plan basically wrote itself.

Your grandma was delighted by the idea of you moving you here. A temporary arrangement until she's all healed up and you have figured out where to go from here. It's basically a two-birds-with-one-stone situation.

After you've finished your iced tea, your grandmother insists on showing you around the house. "Gammy, come on, you really should sit down, at least a little," you try to convince her, but she's not having any of it. "I know it looks like it hasn't changed much, but I've had some things done since you were here last. Now you'll wanna know where everything is if you wanna help, right?"

You don't even bother contradicting her and she pulls herself up by the handles of her rollator with a triumphant look.

The first room you tackle is right by the entrance, opposite of the guest bathroom. It used to be your grandfather's office, but you're surprised to find it all turned around, now with a bed in the middle of it and an assortment of bedroom furniture to go with it.

"This is my new haven, at least for now." Grammy shuffles into the room and carefully plops her behind down on the raised bed. "Got help from a neighbor a street over. Nice young fella, handsome too." She shoots you a meaningful glance that you decide to ignore. "Him and his brother got some of the stuff from upstairs down here. I got this bed on loan just until I can get back into my old chambers upstairs. Doc said the stairs shouldn't be an issue, but I just wanted to make sure." A few approving pats on the mattress.

"I'm impressed, Grammy. I'd have thought you'd force yourself up the stairs every single night, no matter what. I'm glad you're cutting yourself some slack somewhere." You know your grandma appreciates your candor, but you also know how hard this situation is on her mentally. She has always been an active woman and being physically impaired can't be easy for her. You press a soft kiss to her forehead to emphasize your praise.

"Yeah yeah," she grumbles but then still squeezes your arm. "C'mon now. I wanna show you the upstairs."

The changes upstairs are less drastic, but still noticeable.

For one thing, the master bedroom is full of your grandfather's old files, various stacks piled around the room. It's a temporary set-up that you mean to sort through in your upcoming weeks here, a thank you for letting you stay and your way of chipping in, as your grandmother refuses to accept any kind of rent or payment in general for your stay.

Your own bedroom has also received a slight makeover. Previously a guest room that served as storage for when no guests were in town, the room used to be somewhat cramped, yet still cozy. You've always slept in this room and never minded the wild assortment of furniture and various gadgets, but your grandmother went all out in preparation for your visit and had all of the "junk" removed and stored in the garage downstairs. Now, on top of new furniture, the walls sport a fresh paintjob and the closet is completely empty, waiting to be filled with your own clothes and belongings.

"Grandma, you shouldn't have!," you exclaim but can't hide the excitement in your eyes as you take in your new four walls. The twin bed got exchanged for a queen, which, now that everything is stored downstairs, comfortably fits against the back wall under the window. Despite your solo-self, it comes with a nightstand on each side, matching the color of the dresser to the right and the desk tucked into the corner next to the door. Ever the prepared host, your grandma has already put a small bouquet on one of the nightstands and fresh sheets on the bed.

You spin around and bury your grandmother in a tight hug, suddenly overwhelmed by the love that clearly went into the preparation of your arrival. "You're the best," you whisper against her neck as a couple of tears spill from your eyes.

There's no place you'd rather be.

Your spend your first few days in Austin getting reacquainted with the city. As a child, you'd come here for every single summer break, so you know your way around the neighborhood well enough, but a lot has changed since you strolled around the streets in your dungarees and pigtails. Mostly it's just different shops or a new building here and there, but the neighbors have changed too. You're sad to find out that one of your favorite neighbors, an old man named George who grew the sweetest strawberries in his front yard, passed away just a couple of weeks ago. Another couple two houses down, whose daughter you used to play with on your childhood visits, has moved away to the north. The list of changes is long, but besides old George's death, there's nothing too drastic.

Just as expected (and hoped for), you have no time to dwell on your recent split. With the way the relationship went for the past years, you kind of checked out of it mentally a long time ago, but finding out about the affair still kicked you in the guts. Luckily, you're too busy to get lose yourself in a thought spiral about it, all thanks to your grandmother who is keeping you fresh on your toes.

Being the busy woman that she is, she has a whole list of errands for the week, consisting of groceries, check-ups and social calls. You keep thinking that if it wasn't for her rollator and her slower, slight wobbly walk, you'd hardly know the woman was operated on just days ago, and you're not alone. The same sentiment is expressed to you wherever the two of you go, your grandmother being a well-known and respected woman in her neighborhood.

On Saturday, just five days after your arrival, you take her to the local church. Despite not being big on faith, she has been a member of the volunteer group of the church for decades, and a cherished one at that. The moment you push her wheelchair through the door, other volunteers rush over and swarm your grandmother with questions about her well-being. Grammy makes a point of saying there's no need for the fuss, but you can tell that she's touched by the community's care for her.

The meeting discusses the idea of a block party that's been floating around for some time now, but was never realized.

"Lottie, do you even think you could handle it, being in recovery and all?," an elderly man asks directed at your grandmother. The look she shoots him in response drains some color in his face, and some other members at the table laugh. "I'm insulted you'd even ask, Frank," your grandmother replies with a hint of sourness in her voice, but then her smile grows wide and there's a mischievous spark in her eyes that puts you on high alert. You know that look. Your grandmother is up to something.

"Much as I hate to admit it though, you might be right. I'm not at the top of my game, no denying that. However, that's where my lovely granddaughter comes into play!" All eyes swivel around to you, including your grandmother's, the mischievous sparkle present as ever.

Uh oh.

"As many of you already know, my granddaughter has temporarily moved in with me to help me out during my recovery, gracious soul that she is." Gracious soul? Grammy is laying it on thick. You cock your head slightly to the side with raised eyebrows, all while maintaining a smile on your face. What are you doing? Your grandmother reads the silent question in your facial features but offers no explanation, her smile just turns more sweetly. "As a teacher, she has her fair share of experience with organizing events. Ain't that so, sweetheart?"

"I mean, I've organized two talent shows, but that was in collab-," you begin, still unsure of where this is going, but Grammy cuts you off.

"See? She's perfect. I'm sure she can fill my shoes just fine, and I'll still be there behind the scenes anyway."

Before you can utter another word, you are crowned as head of the block party planning committee. As soon as the decision is made, the group gets down to business and starts mapping out a rough draft. Besides the obvious cake buffet, whipped up and provided by members of the volunteer committee, the only other safe participant is the church's kids group, who, according to pastor William, plan to host a lemonade stand. By the end of the meeting, you have an extensive list of possible collaborators to hit up. As head of the committee, it falls in your jurisdiction to get local business on board.

"Alright, that looks like a solid list. I trust Lottie's granddaughter will do a fine job of getting lots of business on board." Pastor William smiles warmly at you and you can't help but feel like he's already forgotten your name again. Then again, he's got a big flock. Can't blame him if he doesn't remember every single sheep by name.

"And we've got Anne, Derrick and Kirsten for decorating, as well as our kids group. That just leaves the question of construction. Who's gonna supply us with stalls or booths? Any ideas, folks?"

"I'm sure Joel Miller would be happy to chip in. Him n' his brother got that construction business, remember? Sweet boys. Helped me set up my lil' hospital ward situation I got back at home," your grandma chirps up, and suddenly, you understand the mischievous twinkle in her eye.

What an elaborate and canny way to set you up. Wow.

You bite on your lip to hide the grin that threatens to spill across your face, keeping your laughter inside until after the meeting. Once you bring it up in the car back home, Grammy plays the innocent act. "I got no idea what you're talkin' about, honey. Just suggested a guy I know that does good work and has a good heart."

"Right, because especially the good heart is extremely relevant when it comes to building things," you chuckle.

"Sure it is, if it's volunteer work. And I'm tellin' you. That Joel, he's got a heart of gold."

You can sense the way your grandmother's eyes are boring into the side of your skull, but you keep your gaze focused on the road ahead of you.

Heart of gold or not, you're nowhere near ready to be dating again.

"Yeah, come on in, Lottie said you'd swing by."

It's late in the evening and his porch light hums above the two of you, casting a golden light on your silhouettes and long shadows on the ground. The fly screen creaks as Joel Miller holds it open for you. You shimmy past him with a small smile, tugging your folder of papers to your chest so they don't rub against him.

Joel's house smells like wood chips, old leather and something distinctly 'homey' that you can't quite put a finger on, but makes you feel very at ease. The scent engulfs you as you step into the house, briefly interrupted by smell of him, a mix of soap and aftershave and just the tiniest tinge of sweat.

It's an intoxicating combination.

So much so that for the briefest moment, you have the instinct to lean a step back and sniff him, but you catch yourself before you embarrass yourself.

"Kitchen's down there. Got a table and everything for your paper collection." Joel motions down the hallway with a quick and friendly wink at you. You follow his direction wordlessly and sit at the aforementioned table, feeling the tips of your ears growing slightly red.

Your grandma wasn't kidding when she said he's handsome.

You'd chalked it up to her trying to set you up, talking him up the same way elderly ladies tend to talk about men that are younger than them. 'Handsome' and 'smart-looking' are standards in that vocabulary box. You couldn't have known that this time, the description would be right on point.

"Want one?" Joel's got his head in the fridge, holding out a cold beer to you over his shoulder.

"Sure, thanks." Usually you're not so tight-lipped. In fact, you've probably talked more in the past few days than you do in a normal school week, and that's saying something. Going around town and chatting up local businesses about participating in your block party had your mouth going at a hundred miles per hour, figuratively speaking. Between speaking to people in person and confirming spots via your cell-phone, it has been a couple of very word-filled days.

And yet, now that you're with another potential 'client' you have to recruit for your endeavor, your speech well seems to have dried up.

It could have something to do with the fact that visually, Joel Miller is exactly your type. Besides his physique - tan biceps visibly stretching under a tight t-shirt that might be a size too small for him - he's got warm, brown eyes with laugh crinkles around them and a head full of salt-and-pepper hair that pairs beautifully with his scruffy-looking beard. By the looks of it, he has ten, maybe fifteen years on you.

Not really an issue for you.

Your ex, cursed be his name, was a chunk older than you too. It was just the type of man you drifted towards, the kind that's a bit ahead of you in time. In your experience, it pays off maturity wise in a way that men your age just can't compete in, even if your last boyfriend wasn't the best example.

Older men just have a grip on you you can't explain, nor deny.

"So." Joel sets the two bottles of beer down on the table, then slides onto the chair across from you. "What can I do for ya? Lottie said somethin' 'bout you guys needin' somethin' built?"

He screws the caps off of both bottles, then slides one over to you. "Cheers." Your bottles clink together and you take a few chugs, grateful for the liquid running down your dry throat. Whether that's from all your talking or a physical reaction to Joel, you don't know, and you're not sure you want to find out.

"Yeah, that's right," you finally say when you put your beer down half empty. Joel glances at your bottle with one raised eyebrow and half a grin on his lips, but doesn't say anything and instead motions for you to go on. "It's for the church's block party. The volunteer group, which my grandmother is a part of, is putting it together. It's supposed to be this come-together opportunity, get-to-know-your-neighbors kind of thing. I've been going around the past couple of days, seeing who wants to join and maybe offer a booth or a stall."

"Looks like you were quite successful with that." He nods at the wild stack of papers in front of you, post-its sticking out left and right and scribbles all over. You laugh and shuffle through the papers.

"It looks more than it is, but yeah, lots of people want to join, thankfully. Now that's where you come in." You pull out a numbered list and slide it over to him.

"This is everyone that wants to join. Problem is, we don't have enough booths for everyone."

Joel skims over the list, then whistles. "Phew. That's a bunch. How many of them you got stalls for?"

You pause long enough for Joel to look up from the list and notice you biting on your lip. "Umh. None of them?" Your grin is awkward and apologetic at the same time. Joel stares at you for a second, a dumbfounded expression on his face, then breaks out into a bellowing laughter. It's warm and deep and infectious and has the corners of your lips rising into a genuine grin.

"Oh, you're somethin'," he says breathlessly when he recovers from his laughing fit. "I can definitely see the relation to Lottie."

You shrug apologetically again and bite down on your bottom lip, the grin still lingering on your face. "What can I say? Persuasion runs strongly in this family."

"That so?" Joel leans back in his chair and puts his arms behind his head. Before you can help it, your gaze flickers across his across his arms, from his prominent biceps all the way down to where his torso meet his jeans. You look away quickly, but get the feeling Joel caught your stare by his smug grin. "I ain't said yes yet."

He does say yes. You come home giddy, excited by your success of rounding up participants for the block party and flustered from your hour at Joel's house.

It didn't take him long to officially agree, though you had no doubt that he would.

You also have no doubt that Joel Miller has been flirting with you.

There is even less doubt that you liked it.

You surprised yourself. By the time you wrapped your first meeting up, you asked for his number so you could reach him in case of changes or the like. Though the block party really was the main reason you required his number, you couldn't deny finding a little bit of joy in the idea of having his number in your phone. He had smiled all smugly too when you'd asked, his brows wiggling suggestively for just a second before he reached for the pen in your hand and scribbled his number down on one of your papers. "There you go, darlin'," he'd said, and you had to fight the urge very hard to bite your bottom lip at the mention of the endearing term.

It only occurs to you now that your grandma probably already has his number and you asking for his number could have come across as you flirting.

Oh.

"Honey, that you?," your grandma hollers out of the living room when you enter her home.

"Yeah Gammy, it's me," you call back and set your papers down on the side table near the front door.

"How'd it go?"

You tell her about your meeting with Joel in the most nonchalant way possible while you help her chop up veggies for dinner. She listens intently and is delighted that Joel has agreed to build the booths, but doesn't seem surprised by it either. Once you're finished with your summary, she gives you that inquisitorial look again.

"So?"

"So what, Gammy?"

"Don't fool me, honey. What'd you think?"

You keep your eyes focused on the carrot your peeling, determined not to meet her gaze. You just know she'd read everything in your eyes.

"Yeah, he's a nice man," you say, but she just tsks at you and swats your arm with her cooking spoon.

"You know damn well that's not what I asked."

"What do you want to hear then?"

The lack of reply makes you look up. Grammy is staring at you with an anything-but-pleased look on her face.

"What!," you exclaim defensively. Her response comes paired with another whack of her spoon. "He's a good man! You should give him a chance."

"Oh my god, Gammy. He has a kid." You groan, but pictures of Joel's biceps dance across the back of your mind.

"So? You're thirty-two, old enough to be a mom. 'Sides, I ain't tellin' you to marry the man, I'm just sayin' go out, have some fun."

"Oh well, in that case. If I'm not supposed to marry him."

You giggle and jump away when the spoon launches for you a third time, only narrowly missing you by a few inches.

Series Masterlist - Mobile Masterlist

Feedback is always appreciated! If you have any requests, feel free to send them my way. I'm always happy to practice my writing! :)

Find more entries for the hot dilf summer challenge by @hellishjoel here!

[quarterlifekitty]

i am still ruminating on fantasy aus and i'm SICK thinking of potioner soap and his little woods witch???? also soap is an orc and i will not be taking questions at this time.

he's lived away from his clan for a long time because, although his immediate family were always fine, most of the orc community is more than a bit weird about a warrior who chooses to painstakingly brew up a weapon instead of using his club. they never seemed to here that there was no instead of-- soap like boom, whether that's from a nice piece of hornbeam connecting with skull or the flare of an incendiary potion. regardless, he'd struck out on his own about as soon as he could. he fell into the king's contracted mercenaries after meeting the rest of the 141 in a tavern fight. weirdly, your average human or elf wasn't MORE tolerant than any of the orcs who'd picked on him back home, and so he'd often found himself in scraps to defend the meager but hard-earned respect he had won. price was impressed with his work, even more by the feral grin that showed off his tusks as blood dripped from the wound above his brow. it was the first time since he'd left his ma's hearth that he'd had kinship, and a home base. in between quests, he'd found a comfortable (if not permanent) lodging in a decently sized town on the outer edge of the central regions of the kingdom, next to a forest known as the pleasant wilds.

one thing soap had always longed for in his time as a nomad was a consistent source for ingredients. potions are testy things, even more so when they're meant to eventually explode, and soap had lost many a fine eyebrow to herbs harvested from poor soil or fur clipped from a beast who was too angry (or, conversely, not angry enough). so imagine his delight when he comes across a stall in the weekly market stocked with waxy, plump rosemary, bee venom still buzzing with the force of its progenitor, even a small sign advertising moon-gathered ingredients with evening delivery so that they wouldn't lost their potency. it was as he was eyeing a few sprigs of dried valerian that the second thing he'd always longed for had popped up behind the counter.

his first impression of the witch of the woods was that she was far too fragile of a little human to be running her stall alone. her kind, bright eyes and curious smile were far too gentle to protect against the thieves and ruffians common to a large market like this one. and so he'd made his purchase and lingered, as unobtrusive as one could be at his size as he perused the other stalls. the dull thunk of a knife connecting with wood had him turning back towards her booth, just in time to watch blood pour from the now tacked-down hand of a pickpocket trying to steal some of the more high value goods on display. she'd tsked, ignoring the shrieking, writhing thief as she tutted over her ruined stock. it was as the town guards had carried the wounded criminal away, though, that johnny had fallen in love. the little witch had offered him some blood soaked stock for free, wondering aloud what the herbs might do with the addition of a little vital fluid.

johnny had quickly come to trust her above any other supplier-- she only sold ingredients in season, freshly harvested under ideal conditions. it had taken two months worth of shopping to work his way into something he'd consider friendship (best believe he counted), another two to work his way up to being "johnny" instead of 'tav to her. after his third quest since knowing her, she'd leapt from behind her counter to throw her arms around his neck. he'd been shocked (and horny!) about the strength of her grip. it wasn't until he'd helped carry her wares back to her cottage in the wilds that he saw why-- five beehives, brimming, as she told him, with soon to be harvested honey; plot after plot of lovingly tended herbs, and flowers besides ("just because i think they're nice" she'd told him, affectionately stroking the petals of a marigold by the door); a pile of firewood halfway up the wall of the house-- and only her to do all of it! he was simultaneously proud and sick, the thought of his little witch out here on her own, breaking her back when he'd be perfectly happy to do all of this work on her behalf (and make sure her back hurt if it was really necessary!).

i could write a million more words of rambling about this but yeah. orc johnny and his self sufficient witch. how long does it take her to get him on a leash following her around like the good boy he is?

Bro idk even what to say. Co-signed.

First of all please check out this hentai manga abt a troll guy and his rogue party mate. I know you said orc, but I can totally imagine Soap as a troll like this.

Second: if you’re into this sort of fantasy setting, mercenaries, and being a potion maker, AND old men, please check out the bell chimes for gold. It’s an erotic otome, the best I’ve played. Please note that while it is on steam, that’s the censored version! If you want old man hentai then use denpasoft to get it!

Anyways regarding your man. Dude is already leashed, harnessed, muzzled, and whipped. And he hasn’t even gotten any pussy yet!

I imagine when he’s not busy with the 141 they go on supply runs together— she knows the locales and veins of ingredients better. But his stamina and size keep monsters out of the way. Some materials have to be cracked out of stone with his strength, others have to be dug out from crevices with her smaller fingers.

And then after these supply runs get later and later, he keeps staying at her place— the barracks are far, and she needs to process some of the ingredients before he can take his share to be used, anyways.

And y’know. Things happen. In the form of morning wood the size of her forearm, maybe.

[miniwheat77]

Honey. (Captain Price x Reader.)

!CW! NSFW, Smut, rough sex, unprotected p in v sex, porn without plot, kinda short I just felt like writing Smut lol, (sorry if I missed any.)

Captain Price is a listener.

He’s quiet when he moves around the base, awake early, up late. He hears every little thing on base. Always.

His newest thing that he thought was funny to listen to? Is hearing the men on base make their advances toward you. Just to get rejected. You were new on base and you were a lot younger than the rest. But you were an excellent shot with a sniper. You’d made friends with a couple guys on base. You didn’t know it, but they had a bet on you. Who would ‘hit it’ first. The only thing Captain Price doesn’t think they’d anticipate is that the bet had been going on for months, and you showed no interest. He could tell it drove them crazy and he thought it was funny. You were a sweet girl. He didn’t think you’d fall for any of the dumb things they had planned for you.

One day during chores, Captain Price happened to be checking on you and another one of the girls on base, someone he’d noticed you making friends with. He listened in on your conversation for a few minutes. Pausing and leaning up against the wall by the cracked door. “You know they have a bet going on you right?” He hears the girl laugh. Her name was Maxine but everyone called her Max. “Oh I know. I’m not stupid.” He can hear the smile in your voice. So you were a little sly, cute. “You got your eye on anyone?” Max asks you. “I.. I mean I guess so but I can’t tell you who.” You laugh. “Oh come on. Who is it?” He hears you giggle, you’re blushing. “I’m serious, I can’t tell.”

“So it’s someone important?” She teases. “Is it.. Ghost? Soap?” She asks. “No, no.” You laugh.

“Higher up than that?” She asks. She thinks for a second. “No way! You like our Captain?” She laughs, clapping her hands together. “Oh my god Max, shut up.” You blush. “No fucking way. You slut. He’s so much older than you.” She teases further. “That’s kind’ve the idea. When have men the same age as you ever been satisfying?” You groan. “True. True.”

“Damn. This whole time I thought there was some other reason you kept rejecting everyone else on base, I even seen Kyle giving you googly eyes.” She laughs. “I mean.. Captain Price?” She teases. “Max stop itttt.” He can tell you’re covering your face in embarrassment. “What about you hm?” You ask. This is where Captain Price decides to make himself noticeable. He takes one loud step up onto the metal staircase and you both look to the doorway as he comes into view. “Hello girls.” He smiles. Max has a wide smile on her face and you look like a child who got caught doing something they shouldn’t have been. “Uh.. hi Captain.” You smile. “Working hard I hope.” He smiles, crossing his arms. “About as hard as you can work watching a screen.” You smile. He laughs. “True. Oh yeah, Y/N. Do you mind staying on the next watch too? I assigned Soap to something else.” You nod your head. “Yeah. No problem.” You smile. “Awesome. I think Gaz needed some help in the mess hall when you’re done too.” He looks to Max. She nods. “Thank you for letting me know Captain.”

He makes his way back down the stairs, cock painfully hard from what he’s just heard.

A couple hours later, after he’s talked to Soap about picking up one of your chores, he makes his way up into the watch tower where you had been for a few hours. He closes and locks the door behind himself, it was getting dark. “Captain, what are you doing?” You ask. “Oh, I’m usually on watch with Soap.” He smiles. You’ve got your legs propped up into the other chair. He grasps hold of your ankles, lifting them up, sitting down and propping them back up onto his lap. He sees the way you blush immediately at the action. “Anything exciting happen?” He asks. “Ah. I seen Ghost run from a bee but I figured he’d have my head if I showed anyone else.” Captain Price laughs. “You’re absolutely right sweetheart.” He slowly starts rubbing your ankle. Moving higher and higher on your calf as he talks to you about anything and everything. “So. I heard a couple guys talking about you the other day.”

“Oh dear.” You mumble. “Yeah, since you’ve been on base, all I ever hear them talk about is you. Drives me fucking nuts.” He laughs. “Well.. I’m sorry.” You mumble, a shy smile on your lips. “It’s not your fault, I think they’re just not used to being around women.” He laughs. “Yeah. I hear some of the stuff they say too. Kind’ve makes me uneasy.” You laugh. “They wouldn’t do anything to you. I’d make them disappear and they know it.” He pats your knee with his hand. He hears you gulp. Your stomach swirls a little bit, heat pooling between your legs. He’d be willing to do that? For you? “You’d do that for me?” You smile. He leans back into the chair he’s sitting in, spreading his legs further apart. “Honey, I’d move heaven and earth if something ever happened to you.” He smiles. “Especially on my base, on my watch.” He crosses his arms, looking up at the camera screen. He can see you starting to squirm. Captain Price would do it for any of his soldiers. But right now? He’s focused on you. Watching out of his peripheral vision as you squirm.

“So. If they bug you all of the time, why haven’t you given into their advances?” He asks. “Oh.. I’m just not interested.” You mumble. “A-and the rules of course. No dating and stuff you know?” You mumble. The way he says it, unsettles your stomach a bit. “You say that like I’m some kind of.. slut or something.” You laugh nervously, he finally turns to look at you. “I didn’t mean it like that, honey. I don’t think you’re a slut. Not for them anyways.” He smiles. Looking at you. “What is that supposed to mean?” You try to pull your legs back away from him but he grips you hard. “Just my slut, right?” He smiles. Hand climbing higher on your leg. You look up at him like a deer caught in the headlights. “Heard your little conversation earlier.” He smiles. Your cheeks feel like they light on fire immediately. Crimson creeping up your face and onto your earlobes. He can see it right away. “No need to panic sweetheart.” He pushes his hand up the inner part of your thigh and you freeze up, taking in a sharp breath, “Captain.” You whimper, breathlessly. He’s already got you hot and bothered and he hasn’t even done anything yet. He chuckles, it’s taunting and you want to kick yourself for looking so pathetic in front of him like this. A small moan leaves your lips when he pulls you close, spreading your legs over his thighs. You’re in front of him now. Gripping the bottom of the chair you’re sitting on. He pushes his hand up between your legs, rubbing his finger over the seam of your cargo pants. You’re panting as he does it.

“Such a mess for me huh?” He breathes. Smirk on his lips. Your lips are slightly parted and you desperately want more from him. “Still have another couple hours up here sweetheart. Why don’t you take your pants off and sit in my lap hm?” He smirks. You swallow hard with a nod. Praying this isn’t some kind of sick trick. You stand up, unbuttoning and unzipping your cargo pants nervously as he watches. He unzips his own, sliding his cock through the hole and groaning as he pumps his cock. You swallow hard at the size of him.

You know for sure you’ll wake up from this dream soon. There’s no way in hell this is real. When you step out of your cargo pants, he reaches out. Grasping the back of your thigh and bringing you into him. Into his lap. You’ve still got panties on but he’s pushes them to the side, rubbing his fingers over your soaked entrance. A gasp leaves your lips when he touches you. “Oh g-god.” You whimper as he lines himself up with your entrance. He pushes your shirt up and holds on tight to your hips, guiding you down into his cock. He knows he should’ve prepped you more, but he can’t help it. He needs this. He groans out as you slide down onto him further. When your thighs are flush with his, they’re shivering slightly. “Fuck honey- so fucking tight.” He grits his teeth. He cups your thighs and lifts you up onto him, his strength takes you a little off guard as he uses you to pleasure himself. A whimper leaves your lips and you reach to clutch the back of the chair. “C-Captain.” You moan. He smirks at this.

You grasp the back of the chair with both hands, beginning to ride his cock, lifting yourself off of him and sliding back down. He relaxes himself, tilting his head back with a moan. His hat almost slides off and he catches it, setting it on top of your head and adjusting it more. “There you go sweet girl.” He smiles. “Next you’ll be wearing my shirts and nothing else.” He chuckles, wrapping a hand around you and standing up with you still on his cock. He sets you down on the countertop, shoving the keyboard to the side. He grips your ankles with his hands, beginning to thrust into you. You clutch the countertop hard, knuckles turning white as he fucks into you. He’s strong, he makes you feel small no matter what. He’s your Captain, and you’ll know that forever. He grasps hold of your hip with one hand, using his other to rub quick circles over your clit. He’s watching his cock disappear into you. He moves his hand for a second to spit on the base of his cock, thrusting back into you. You’re watching with wide eyes. “Something wrong?” He asks, clutching his shirt and pulling it back tighter. “N-no. Just thought that was really hot.” You mumble. He laughs. “So sweet.” He mumbles, returning his hand to rub circles into your clit. “Such a good girl, letting me fuck this slutty pussy.” He groans

He can feel you getting tighter around him, your moans getting more frequent. Your eyes are clenched shut and he can see how tight you’re holding on. Maybe he’s being a little too rough but he can’t help it. You feel too good. He moves you closer to him again. “How does it feel to get fucked by a real man? None of those pathetic little boys begging to be inside this pussy.” He smirks. “It feels so good, please don’t stop. P-please.” You whimper. He laughs at your desperation. “They wouldn’t know what to do with a girl like you. So needy. Now cum for me.” He growls. He hits that sweet spongy spot inside of you directly and you fall apart. You’re about to cry out when he smashes his lips against yours, kissing you so hard your teeth knock into each other. His high is coming too, but he’s savoring it. Trying to spend as much time as possible inside you. He grips your shirt tightly, hips hammering into yours and the countertop is digging into your thighs but you wouldn’t stop him. He feels amazing inside of you. “Where do you want it hm?” He smiles. “Inside- please cum inside me Captain!” A deep laugh leaves his lips when you say those magic words. He clutches the collar of your shirt, pulling you into him. He kisses you again when he finally reaches his high. He moans into you, and you gasp into his lips as you feel his warmth filling you. His thrusts halt and he pulls away from you, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his and he reaches up to wipe it away. You lick your lips and that’s when he knows.

You’re the perfect girl.

He smiles, resting his hands on the sides of the countertop. “Sorry if I was rough sweetheart. You’re just.. a fucking temptress.” He tries to readjust his vest, sliding out of you with a groan. He watches his filth seep back out of your weeping hole. Smiling at the work he’s done. He helps you down, smiling at the way you wobble slightly. “Gonna have to wash these now.” He laughs. Seeing the wet stains you’ve left around his zipper. Your cheeks burn once again. He loves how easy it is for him to frustrate you like that.

—

Max noticed your longing stares at him. She knows this is worse than before. You barely eat, don’t sleep too well. You’re snappy and grouchy and just plain mean sometimes. Anytime a guy tries to talk to you, you ignore them. Shrugging them off and avoiding them at all costs. You hate that he hasn’t said much to you after that night up in the watch tower. It drives you crazy that you like him this much. Maybe he was under the impression it was a one time thing. These feelings you have, they’re not lust, you like him. You want more than sex from him. How he didn’t see it frustrates you to no end. He notices the way you’re acting. Like a bratty girl who didn’t get her way and he doesn’t understand why. He’s oblivious to the way you feel.

You push through the crowd gathering in the mess hall and settle down. “Hey Y/N.” You see a guy sitting next to you and you roll your eyes with a groan. Captain Price is watching you with a grin. He can tell you’re about to snap. “You seem off lately, everything okay?” He asks. He’s only trying to be nice so that he can fuck you, he’s got a bet on it. “Why? You wanna bet on that too?” You look at him. His eyes widen. “If you were ever curious why women don’t like you, look a little closer to home.” You growl. “Y/N.” His voice makes you go rigid. “Can I speak with you, please?” He asks. You nod your head, standing up from the table and following him down the hall. He leads you all the way down the hall into his room. “What? What are we doing in here?”

He laughs, crossing his arms. “You, my dear. Are going to put this on.” He passes you one of his shirts. “And take a nap.” He smiles. “What?” You look confused. He laughs. “I was worried for a second you were going to chew the poor kids face off. You’re sleepy and you’re acting like a brat.” He smiles. “No I’m not.” You roll your eyes, you try to shove passed him, but he pushes you back. “What’s this about ah?” He smirks, biting his lip. You hate how flirty he’s being. “You need more already? Is this you getting bratty because I haven’t fucked you?” He glides his hand up the valley between your legs, making you jump with a gasp. You look down, breaths getting harsher. “N-no. No.” You mumble, pushing his hand away from you. “Than what is it? Hm? Cmon baby.” He grasps your shirt, helping you pull it over your head. You let him, because you’re pathetic. He helps you remove your pants too. Sliding his shirt over your head and you pout, he doesn’t miss it. “Oh come on darling. You can talk to me.” He pulls you into him, feeling you bury your face into his chest as he hugs you. You’re relaxing into him and he’s already onto you.

He inhales the scent of your hair and sighs. “Come on. Lay down in my bed. I’ll tuck you in.” He breathes. He pulls his covers back and you crawl into his bed. The scent of it alone is throwing you into a daze. “You’re a brat.” He smirks. You narrow your eyes up at him. “No I’m not.” He laughs. “John.” You mumble. The use of his real name lets him know that this is serious. “I like you.” You look up at him. “I like you too.” He smiles. You sigh. “No.. I like you. A lot. I don’t want this to be.. a one time thing. I want to be with you.” You mumble. He smiles. “It doesn’t have to be, darling. But.. we’re stuck on this base for another few months before I can take you home with me.” He laughs. “You want to do that?” You ask. “Of course I do. But.. this is just the beginning alright?” You nod your head. “What does that mean?” You ask. “It means.. we keep it a secret, while on base of course. And.. when we get done here. We’ll figure it out from there.” You chew at your lip nervously. “Do you want to be my girlfriend?” He asks. You nod your head. He laughs. “Good. Because I want you to be mine. Our little secret for now.” He smiles, kissing you on the forehead.

“Now take a nap my brat.” He smiles.

[trulybetty]

honey, I won't be home.

pairing: jackson!joel x reader word count: 1,712 warnings: tlou2 spoilers, angst, mentions of a wound, mentions of blood, neither in graphic detail, bee stings, mention of alcohol, no descriptions of reader, use of a nickname, no y/n estimated reading time: 9 minutes summary: ellie arrives at your door with news that turns your world upside down ao3: linked

a/n: I went back for a rewatch of tlou2 play through for research and ended back in my jackson!joel feelings and leaning into what I want to write as opposed to trying to make other things work and this was the result. if you want to read it in relation to Drip you could read them as the same reader.

honey, I won't be home.

It was early evening, you were drying dishes when the first shouts could be heard through Jackson. The glass in your hand slipped out of your wet fingers, hit the lip of the sink. The crack of glass on ceramic sounded like a shotgun in the quiet of the kitchen while the screams and shouts from outside echoed. Your attention torn you reached into the sink and recoiled instantly when the bite of cut glass hit your open palm. 

“Son of a bitch,” you hissed as you pulled your hand back, the soapy water already turning pink, the gash on your hand hard to see for the blood muddled with the watery suds. 

As you rinsed off the soap and inspected the wound, you winced at the sight of the jagged cut as the metallic tang of blood tickled your nose. Your eyes darted around for a clean dishcloth, panic at your heels for both the open wound on your hand, and for whatever it was going on outside as the shouting sounded like it was getting closer. 

Just as you found a dishcloth there was a booming knock at the door. 

“Dammit,” you cursed again as you wrapped your hand with the cloth you’d just been using, wishing you could have found a clean one. But the shouts were coming from behind the door now and with the continuous banging of the door, it felt like if you didn’t let them in they’d knock the door down. 

“For Christ's sake,” you muttered as you unlocked the door swinging it open, half expecting to see Joel there sheepish for being gone so long for the patrol he’d left in the early hours for and then for forgetting his key again. 

But instead, it was Ellie. 

Maria was at the bottom of the steps, frozen in a shout she’d been poised to let out at Ellie, but with your arrival, she’d fallen silent. 

You looked at Ellie, her face pale and bruises blooming at the side of her face, her lip split. If it weren’t for your hand wrapped tightly in the damp dishcloth pressed against your chest coupled with the intensity of the moment, you would have reached out to take her face in your hands to inspect her injuries. 

The usual spark in her eyes was gone, left was just a hollow emptiness that seemed to age her beyond her years. You looked down to the bottom of the steps, Maria, usually the picture of authority and composure within Jackson stood as a silent sentinel, her expression unreadable and her eyes avoiding yours.

“Honey,” Ellie’s voice cracked.

You still inwardly cringed still at the nickname all these years later. You wished you’d adopted it through a means of a term of endearment, something sweet bestowed upon you as the name suggested.

Eugene had christened you with the name years ago. You’d tried to remove a beehive from a property being prepared for new residents. You’d thought the hive was dried and inactive, but no — you were wrong. In the process of trying to remove it, you’d been stung multiple times, earning you a painful trip to the infirmary.

Then, that night, under the dim lights of the Tipsy Bison Eugene’s deep voice had carried over the general chatter as he regaled the tale. The clink of glasses and laughter had echoed around you as you sat centre of unwanted attention. Eugene had raised a glass of whiskey, sweetened with his prized honey salvaged from the hive, and toasted to you with a mischievous glint in his eye, using the new nickname he’d bestowed upon you.

It was also the night you’d first met Joel.

Your heart, already racing from the accident in the kitchen, now threatened to beat out of your chest. Your throat felt tight and your mind was swimming with possibilities of what the tension between Ellie and Maria meant, what the shouting before you opened the door was about. Then came your sudden realization that Joel should have been back from patrol with Tommy by now, especially if Ellie was back.

It all accumulated in a fear so intense, that it was nearly paralyzing.

“Ellie,” you spoke cautiously, breaking the heavy silence. It took a moment or two to control your breathing with the new weight that sat on your chest, so heavy it threatened to have you on your knees, “Ellie,” you said again, your voice strained and barely above a whisper, “what’s happening?” the weight was crushing, the tension in your body only serving to keep you on your feet, “Where’s Joel?”

Ellie’s tear-rimmed eyes looked up at you, she looked as if she was carrying all the weight in the world. For a brief moment, you mourned the childhood she should have had. That she shouldn’t be outside of the walls of Jackson on patrol, that she shouldn’t have witnessed the things she had in her short eighteen years. 

“Joel,” she started, her voice a volatile cocktail of grief and anger and you felt the heckles of panic at your heels again, working their way up to your chest, the moment stretched out so far it felt like hours before she spoke again, “He… he’s gone.”

The simplicity of her words belied the complexity of emotions they unleashed.

Gone. 

Gone.

The term was too small, too simple for the enormity of what it implied. Joel, your Joel, the man who had been a constant in your life since arriving in Jackson. The man who had seen you through so much, who had become not just your partner, but a part of you, could simply not be ‘gone’.

Your mind reeled as you tried to make sense of Ellie’s words, but it was like grasping at smoke. The world was suddenly tilting, just falling into confusion and disbelief. 

“Gone? Ellie, what do you mean gone?” The urgency in your voice rose, the panic evident, the grief in your throat growing, threatening to choke you, “What happened? Ellie?”

Your voice now a desperate plea for this to be a misunderstanding, just all a mistake.

Ellie’s eyes flooded with tears, spilling over as she looked at you, a tempest of tragedy on her face.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice barely holding it together, trembling with the weight of the news she was delivering, “I– we… we were too late. The weather delayed Dina and I. Something went wrong. He–Joel… he was attacked. He was attacked. He… he,” she bit her lip as she tried to force the words out, “he didn’t make it,” her words broke, shattered by the sheer force of her grief.  

The cold winter air around you felt thick as time itself paused in the face of such inconceivable news. Ellie took you through what had happened, you tried to listen, but the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears threatened to drown her out. Left only with your thoughts of Joel, Joel Miller, the pillar of strength and safety in your world, the man who had survived against all odds, whose resilience and will to protect had been unbreakable, almost stubborn, was no more.

The newfound foundation of your life in Jackson, built together with him, had been ripped away in an instant. 

The pain in your hand, from just mere moments ago in what felt like another lifetime, once sharp and demanding, faded to nothing against the gaping wound in your heart. 

But as you clutched to the doorframe for support, the world spinning out of control, you saw Ellie. Really saw Ellie. Not as the bearer of some of the worst news possible, but as the young woman who had been thrust into a world of loss and survival from too young an age. The girl who had lost so much, yet fought so fiercely for those she loved.

The girl who in that moment, needed you just as much as you needed her.

Instinctively, without even realizing it, your stance softened, your grip on the doorframe released. Ellie, who had seen Joel as a father figure, even through the hard moments, who had been a constant presence in your lives, was now a part of your family through shared grief as much as shared love.

With a shaky breath, you reached out with open arms. She paused, just for a moment, causing you to hold your breath in anticipation. Then before you could say anything she collapsed into your embrace, her body wracked with sobs. You held onto her so tightly, as if your hold on her would keep you together, that as long as you were holding each other, the world around you couldn’t completely fall apart.

You stroked her hair, whispering words of comfort, that felt hollow in your own ears, but it was all you could offer, “It’s going to be okay,” you lied, because in that moment, nothing felt like it would ever be okay again.

But for Ellie, you could be strong. You had to be because if you couldn’t, you knew you would surely fall apart.

The cold Jackson air whipped around you, your bare feet were numb a contrast to the warmth of Ellie’s body pressed tightly to yours, her arms tight around you. You could feel her heart beating against your chest, fast and frantic, mirroring your own despite your seemingly straight face.

“You did everything you could, Ellie,” you whispered into her hair, knowing full well that nothing you could say could possibly erase any of the weight of guilt or responsibility she felt for Joel’s death.

Maria, who had silently been observing until now, approached cautiously. You glanced up, meeting her eyes, a silent exchange passing between the two of you tears glistened in her eyes mirroring the ones threatening to fall from your own that you were fighting to hold back.

The night was falling fast, the shadows of Jackson stretching long across the ground, it felt like an ominous presence mirroring the grief that had crossed the threshold of your home, a sanctuary no more. 

As the first stars of the evening began to peek through the dark clouds you squeezed Ellie a little tighter.

For now, you hoped it was enough to get you through the night.

[sarcasmo-mexicano]

Relax 🔞

Pre-Collider Jonathon Ohnn/The Spot x AFAB!Reader 

There's no doubt that your boyfriend, Jonathon Ohnn, is a really hard worker.

His work is extremely important and as such he puts the extra effort in anything he does; Its because of this that he is one of the top scientist at Alchemax.  

The thing is, when Jonathon focuses on his work, everything else is a secondary task and it means /everything/.  

You have to constantly remind him to eat because if you dont, this man can go without eating actual food for days and will try to survive out of energy bars and redbulls.  

He has been so absorbed on his work that he sometimes will collapse from exahustion in top of all the papers he has been reviewing.  

He also tends to ignore you.  

You know its not on purpose but still kinda hurts.  

When he gets into a new project, you feel lonely.  

You are tired of waking up to and empty bed, eating dinner alone, watching the shows you were supposed to watch together, alone.  

Between the loneliness there is also the concern for his well being; How many nights has he stayed up until the crack of dawn, working so much that his eyes are all red?  

Has he eating? Drink water? Shower?  

Its not only this hyperfocus period but the burnout you know its coming after.  

So the next time he announces he will be working on yet, another of his projects, you take matter into your own hands.  

This time, this man will relax, even if its the last thing you do.

When you get home, already late into the night, you find Jonathon hunching over some papers. His desk is already a mess: piles of open books and papers laying everywhere, tools scattered around.  

You toss your bag and coat to the ground and make a bee-line to him, squeezing his shoulders as you give him a peck on the cheek trying not to disturb him too much.  

"Hey" You quietly greet him, giving him another kiss on his temple.  

He answers you with another "hey" his lips curving in a quick smile before going back to work.  

"Did you eat lunch Johnny?" He nods as you tuck some stray hairs behind his ear, he barely reacts at your touch. "Water?" Nods again. Well at least, he did eat. You sigh "Im gonna go shower ok?"  

"Ok, honey" He says without looking at you, writing something on a notebook.  

Frustration builds inside you but no matter, this time he will take a break.  

You hop in the shower, warm water cleaning the stress of the day away; The soap you choose today is his favourite scent: eucalyptus and lavander, you still remember the first time you used it, how he was all over you, his nose on the crook of your neck.  

"You smell so good" You remember how his voice had soften and how his arms  around you, holding you close.  

You hope it has the same effect this time around.  

You wrap yourself with a towel, barely drying yourself, you might want to be a little wet for what is about to come.  

In front of the mirror you take a good look of yourself, inhaling deeply.  

Honestly you feel a little excited, a familiar tingling forming on your belly.  

"Ok, Go-Time"  

.

It's about the third day he has been working on this project.  

Or is it the fourth? Maybe a week? Jonathon doesnt really know, his perception of time kinda blurrs when he works.  

What he does know if its that, if he doesnt finish these schematics  tonight he is gonna lose it.  

It shouldnt be this difficult.

He sighs in frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose, rubbing the exhaustion out of his eyes.  

Its only then when he notices its dark outside.  

Oh wow, is it night already? Wait, yeah it is. He vaguely remembers your figure standing next to him, asking if he did eat that day.  

He glances over his shoulder, have you got to bed already? Probably, it is quite late.  

Guilt strikes him right in the middle.  

You always take care of him when he dives on these kind of projects; He knows how difficult he may get, so focused he deliberately ends ignoring you.  

But dont you misunderstood! He /is/ grateful for all the help you give him. He notices how you make home-food everyday so he doesnt have to eat junk, or how there's always a filled water bottle near him but far any papers or blueprints he might have around.  

You are the most wonderful partner ever, he doesnt deserves you.  

"Dinner" He thinks as he goes back at the papers he has been writing. "Dinner on a nice place, a fancy one. Flowers, maybe chocolates? Those black chocolates they like"  

Jonathon's mind drifts between his work and plans to apologize properly to you, so focus that he doesnt hear the door of the bedroom opening or your footsteps approaching.  

His body shudders in surprise as you put your hands on his shoulders, giving them a soft squeeze.  

"Johnny?" You call him "You coming to bed?"  

"Hmm? Oh, no. Im so sorry sweetie, I- still have some things to do here." He replies apologetic, crossing something on the margin of a paper and writing another. Honestly there's nothing more he wants that being on bed with you, your soft, warm body entangled with his. He misses you too. "You go without me, I will be there soon"  I hope, he adds on his mind.  

But instead of going, you put your arms around him, pressing your chest against his back. "Johnny" Your lips brush the shell of his ear and he holds his breath. 

"Y-yes, Honey?" His hand trembles as he writes a sidenote.  

"You been working so hard lately Hun"  

"I- I have! Yes! Im, ehm, sorry about it. B-but! Im almost done! I swear!" He stutters. Its been a while since he had being embraced by you, you smell divine its distracting.  

You whine into his ear and he swallows, his cock twitches. "You should take a break baby"  

He coughs almost choking, he has stopped writing for a while now. "I-I-I cant, really. I need to- eh finish these"  

Surely you would understand right?  

"I been lonely Johnny" You whispers, pulling yourself from him and he quietly whines for the lost of contact. However you force him to turn around to face you and his eyes go wide. Oh God. You are only wearing a -rather short- towel, your wet hair framing your beautiful face. "I miss you"  

"You have?" His eyes dart on every patch of exposed skin, from your legs to you shoulders, the way is only your arms what is keeping the towel on your body.  

"Uh-huh" Your pretty lips accentuate each sound, they look so pretty and pink, he catches himself salivating. "Im tired of sleeping on a empty bed John" You close the distance between you, carefully climbing on him as Jonathon leans back, hands holding the arms of the chair.  

"Fuck,fuck, fuck" His mind is speeding, math, formulas and what not already tossed on the back burner, he is already packing a tent on his pants and you havent even touch him.  

"I know you are a very busy, bright man" Your voice is like silk, so soft, sending chills all over him "But even bright minds-" Your hands move slowly, removing the towel in a nice, fluid, movement, letting slide to the floor. /OH FUCK/ "Need breaks" You finish, pressing your wet body against his chest.  

At this point Jonathon has forgot how to breath.  

Every nerve on his body is on edge, his cock its so hard it hurts.

And when he thinks he cant take anything more, you sit on his lap.  

You sit /right/ on his clothed dick and you let this sound, this exquisite sound as you slowly, so ruthlessly slow, grind on him.  

"Ahhh- f-fuck-" He moans, breathless. His head thrown back, eyes closed, knuckles white as he digs his hands into the arms of the chair.  

Is this real? Or did he actually pass out for all the overwork?  

"Johnny" His name rolls out of your tongue in the sweetest voice, just like honey, cold hands cupping each side of his head, kindly forcing him to straighten. Out of habit, he leans into the palm of your hand, whimpering into it.  

With your free hand, you fix his hair, fingers combing the stray hairs. "Johnny" This time he opens his eyes only to be meet with your naked body, your beautiful eyes staring into his. "Arent you tired baby?" Your hand caresses his cheek, fingers tracing a line until it meets his lips, giving them a small tap. Jonathon can only nod, he has forgotten what words are at the moment. "Dont you want to rest a little?" Your finger drag his lips -ah- side to side, your body pressing more and more into him as you rub his lap.  

He nods again, weak sounds coming from his part lips.  

"Use your words John"  

"Y-yes, I want-oh, I want to-oh god, to relax" His voice cracks, already so weak.  

You give him a little smile, leaning completely against him, your lips barely touching his. "Dont worry honey" You whisper, taking both his hands and placing them on your hips "Im going to take good care of you"  

Even when Jonathon was waiting for the kiss to come, he still is taken aback as how sweetly you press your lips against his, before giving them a tempting lick. He moans loudly now, opening his mouth and letting your tongue in. He kiss you desperatly, with a hunger he didnt knew he had until now. Every sound you let out its turning him on, hips bucking up, frantic to be inside you.  

Your hands find their way to his hair, sinking into his wild locks, pulling it until he cries out of pleasure.  

When you break the kiss, he whines in discontent and you cannot help but to chuckle a little, he’s so cute. 

You take his hands -at the moment busy grabbing your ass- and slowly drag them all over your body, his big brown eyes following, until they make their way to the edge of your breasts.  

"Mmmh" Johnathon whimpers, his thumbs shyly brushing them. He looks at you, asking for permission and how could you say no, really? You giggle and nod, guiding his big hands until each one is holding you. You feel his hips buck again, cock surely twitching inside his tight pants. He kneads them softly, thumbs brushing your hard nipples taking a whine out of you, his hands feel so warm on your body.

"Oh- they are so pretty-Fuck! You are so pretty" Without a warning he pops one of your tits inside his hungry, hot mouth. You thrown your head back, heat already forming on your belly. He sucks on your nipple, while he plays with the other, occassionally mumbling a muffled "so pretty" and "taste so good", he works you so good that you forget for a moment that you are supposed to make /him/ feel good.

Clumsily -the chair creaks and bends very dangerously- you slide your hand to his pants, the tips of your fingers tracing the tent he is packing. When you do, he sucks harder on your nipple and you wail.  

Trembling you look for the fly of his jeans, carefully opening them, hooking a pair of fingers on his underwear, sliding them down.  

His cock springs free, hitting you in the back.

When you glance over, you see how it gleams, already covered on pre-cum, it twitches needely, the tip red.  

Your mouth waters.  

You lean back a little, a hand grabbing his hair, his mouth still sucking on you as you wrap your free one around his boner, squeezing it a little.  

"Oh-fuck!" He cries, popping your nipple out of his mouth. You dont need to see it to know he has already leave a mark around it. He thrust weakly, moving his cock up and down your hand. "Your hand feels- ah! so good!"  

You giggle, he already looks so whipped.  

You pump his lenght, thumb rubbing the tip. Your hand slides nicely thanks to all the pre-cum he is oozing.

All the sounds he is letting out, turns you on, you can feel how wet you are, probably soaking Jonathon's lap.  

"Please-!" He cries, his chest rising and falling at how quick his breathing is. "Baby, I- I cant! Please! Inside, I want to- ah! Be inside!" And to put emphasis on his need, he thrust his hips again

Honestly, you want him too, now.  

"Anything you want Johnny" You say with a sly smile.  

Rising your hips a little, you lead his tip to your soaked entrance, rubbing it, one, two times -"¡Honey, please!"- and let it in, slowly, insde you, little by little, until you take him whole.  

The two of you moan, overstimulated and sensitive.

You stay still, adjusting yourself to his size, shaking. "You feel so-mnhh! Big!" He feels even bigger than before, already hitting your good spot.  

"Can I move?" Jonathon asks, his arms around you, face buried on your chest, legs trembling. "Please, let me move"  

He's just too cute when he begs. "Please Johnny" You voice its coated with lust, you want him to ruin you just as much as he wants you to do the same. 

He doesnt even waits for you to finish, already pounding you so hard that it makes you scream, surely the neighbors can hear you but you dont give a single shit, let them hear how hard he fucks you.  

"Thankyouthankyouthankyou" He chants as he pounds into you, already so pussy-drunk. The wet slapping of his cock sound so obscene, blending with your moans and his whinning. "You are-fuck! so tight! Your pussy is- oh fuck, oh fuck! so good!" He moans against your skin, nibbling at whatever he can put his teeth into.  

"Johnny! Oh God! Johnny!" Your voice cries desperate, the knot inside you, growing tighter and tigher. "Im-Im close!"  

A gasp escapes from your mouth as Jonathon grabs you from your waist, pulling himself up from the -poor- chair carrying you with him.  

He grunts at the sudden feeling of being so deep inside you, a hand swating papers and books and tools off the table.  

For a moment you grow worried. "Johnny! Your notes! What are you-AH!" You are manhandle, your body resting against the now, empty table, papers, books, blueprints on the floor now. You are about to protest when he thrust into you, filling you up, making you scream. He feels so much bigger, so much deeper.  

"Doesnt matter" He growls, big hands pushing your legs until they are up your ears. "It can all wait, right now, fuck, right now I need to fuck you, I need you so badly!" With renowed energy, he rams into you, taking the air out of your lungs, his balls slapping against your cunt. "So good! So good, ah- for me! Only for me, yes?"  

You nod rapidly, bitting your lip. When you look at him, he's nothing but a mess,  glassy eyes, lips trembling with a moan.  

"Yes-" You pant, its so hard to talk right now. "Just for you, only for you Johnny!"  

He grunts, letting your legs go, hands cupping your face as he dips for a rather, needy and sloppy kiss. You hold him, digging your nails into his back, your legs around his waist, bringing him impossibly closer.

He moan into the kiss, his pace becoming more erratic, barely taking his cock out.  

He's close. 

You bring your lips to his ear and shakely, whisper the magic words.  

"Inside, cum inside"  

"GNHH!-!" He grunts, jaw tensing. "Oh fuck! Oh Honey! Im cumming, fuck! Im cumming!" He cums between moans and curses, pumping load after load of hot and thick cum, his body on top of yours, your face tucked on the crook of his neck, his hand sinking into your hair. Fuck you smell so good, your pussy is milking him so deliciously good, oh fuck.  

You stay like this for a moment, or maybe longer, you are not completely sure. Time flows different when you just get fucked into another plane of existence.

"Are you-ah- ok babe?" Jonathon ask, voice cracking.  

You chuckle, kissing the side of his neck. "Perfectly Johnny"  

"Ok, good! Im gonna, eh, pull out ok?" You nod giving him the get go. Slowly he gets up already missing your embrace. Your body trembles as he slides his cock out and  the moment he does a thick trail of cum follows, spilling all the way down. "Oh. Wow. Thats, wow, a lot" He coughs awkwardly, his face feeling hot.  

You glance at him from the table, his face red and eyes wide, surely staring at your sore cunt. When your body pumps out the excess of his cum and you whine, you see his lips move, muttering to himself a quiet: "holy shit".  

A tiny smile cross your face. "Admiring your work, Doctor Ohnn?"  

He clears his throat, clearly embarrased of being caught, like he didnt fuck your brains out just a couple of minutes ago. "I didnt- Its not like that!"  

"Really?" You tease him, spreading your legs further.  

He bites his lip, eyes darting between your smug face and your dripping pussy. There really is a lot. "M-Maybe I am" He says, defeated.  

Your little devilish smile only grows wider. "I like it, Piccaso!" You say in an exagerated manner, twirling your hand.  

Jonathon stares at you dumbfounded before wheezing. "Oh! You are the worst! That was terrible!"  

"But you are laughing!"  

"Cuz its so bad I cant help but laugh!"  

You both stare at each other before bursting into laughter.  

You are wipping the tears from your eyes when something catches your eyes.  

"John?"  

"Yeah?" He says, the remains of his laugh on his voice.  

"Are you still hard?"  

He abruptly stops, body going still.  

You prop your torso up, looking down on him. Yep, there it stands, still as hard and angry red, covered on a still wet layer of cum -both his and yours-.  

Its your turn to be astonished. You didnt know he was so- pent up.  

"John-"  

"Its ok!" He cuts you up, pushing his shirt down to cover himself. "I- I will take care of this myself, yes? Later, in the, ehm-In the bathroom. Right now, we should clean you up"  

You frown.  

Oh. 

You dont think so.  

Not happening, not today, nu-huh.  

Carefully you get down of the table, your legs shaking.  

You take a moment to compose yourself, straigthen your body as you lean into him.  

"Sit on the chair John"  

He blinks at you, confused but a little turn on.  "Excuse me?"  

Hands on his hips, you guide him towards the chair, pushing him little by little, until his ass is sitting.  

"I told you didnt I?" You say, kissing the mole above his lips -the one you like so much- and trail down his neck, leaving little wet kisses as you go. "That I would take good care of you"  

"You dont have to-" He mutters, eyes half-closed.  

"I want to" You growl against the skin of his neck, sucking his adam's apple and he sobs. "Besides, I cant let you go like this. Can I?" You wrap your hand around his needy cock, it feels hot on your grasp. Jonathon let out a shaky moan, unconsciously bucking his hips. You smile against his neck. "Relax baby, let me make you feel good"  

You kneel down, making yourself home in between his legs.  

You feel his hot stare on you and sure enough when you look up to see him, his eyes are glued on you, a trembling hand covering his mouth, the other resting on the arm of the chair.  

Oh, someone is eager.  

Without breaking eye contact, you give his head a tentative lick. He squints his eyes, quietly whinning into his hand.  

You smile, toungue tracing down from his head to the bottom of his lenght, licking the cum clean.  

"Ooooh" He moans, he must be very senstive, you feel his cock twitching as you go up again, giving the head a little kiss before wrapping it with your lips, sucking just a little, moving your toungue along the slit. "Oh-fuuuuck"  

You push his shaft slowly, saliva dripping from the corners of your mouth. You are not used to have him, to feel him so big like this.  

The tip is already hitting the back of your throat.  

You feel drunk.  

Drunk on his smell, on his flavour. Everything is a little too much but at the same time is not enough; You want him, need him, just as much as he does want you.  

You can feel yourself getting aroused again, your pussy clenching, missing the shape of his cock.  

Like this, you move your head slowly up and down, licking the rest of his cum along. It taste salty, it taste like him.

Jonathon's legs shake, groaning loudly. "Oh God-" The sounds he lets out are so- enticing. You love when he gets vocal, when he lets himself go and be drown on pleasure. You bob your head a little faster, tongue licking, tasting his pre-cum. He throws his head back, hand placed on your head, keeping you from pulling out. You dont mind, you want him to feel good, really good.  

You hook your hands on the hem of his pants, tugging them down until they are in the floor, leaving him completely exposed.  

Hands rest on his thights, slowly moving to his crotch where you grab his heavy balls, dragging your thumb by the edges. His whole body jolts up, hips bucking, burying his cock deeper inside your mouth, hot tears form in the corner of your eyes.  

You let him fuck your face at his own rythm, your hands occupied with his balls, squeezing them, massaging them.  

"Oh God- babe!"  

Thats right, you think, let yourself go.  

You feel his cock twitch, thrust becoming a little faster now.  

"Babe-!" He calls you, breathless. "I think Im-"  

Oh you can feel how close he is.  

You suck harder, faster.  

Jonathon shivers, his whole body at flame. You are sucking him so good, he loves to see your pretty lips around his cock, the feeling of your hands tugging and squeezing his already full balls.  

God! He wants to cum so badly! 

The moment you moan, your mouth so full of his dick that it comes all muffed, its the moment he loses it.  

He cums screaming your name, fists full of your hair and hips thrusting hard.  

In an instant, your mouth is overflowing his hot cum, its so much its choking you, forcing you to swallow to be able to breathe.  

Your own orgasm hits you, its all way too much, so much that your vision goes blurry.  

Its only when you feel his hands go limp on your head, that you pull out.  

His cock keep twitching as it softens, a string of cum still coming out of the tip.  

Your damn jaw feels numb. A small price to pay, you think, if he's able to relax.  

"Johnny?" You say, putting your hands on his thights to help you stand up.  

"I fucking love you" Its all he says when he meets your eyes. He looks like he just ran a marathon, sweaty and trying to catch his breath. You smile, taking a sit on his leg, moving his hair out of his face. "I love you so-so much"    

"I love you too Johnny" You say back, giving a quick kiss. You glance at his work table, a mess within another mess. Papers and tools on the floor, piles of books discarded. You dont even want to see if any of the papers on the floor had been....stained. "Should we...Clean that?"  

Jonathon follows your gaze.  

He groans, covering his eyes.  

"Not today"

[bellaxgiornata]

Always Waiting for You [1: First Meetings]

Pairing: Sam Winchester x fem!Reader Word Count: 4.4k [Series Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: 18+; fluff, pining, friends to lovers, slow burn, angst, canon typical violence, eventual smut, use of pet names & nicknames (no y/n)

Series Summary: In the beginning you'd been content helping your grandmother run Springwood, the quaint bed and breakfast she had owned and ran for most of her life. You'd grown a fondness for Springwood over the years, already having long since known your grandmother wished to eventually pass the bed and breakfast onto you. But the more you got to know the curious Winchester brothers every time they sporadically turned up to rent rooms, the more you'd begun to long for a little something more in your life. You soon found yourself becoming close friends with the brothers–even after finding out what they really did–and you easily found yourself falling for Sam. But the pair of you only ever remained close friends as the years passed by despite you always secretly holding onto the hope that he'd someday finally stop trying to protect you from himself and his life.

Tag List: @cheshirecat484 @stoneyggirl2

a/n: While Reader will not have a physical description or a name (other than nicknames and pet names), she will have a bit of a family history for the sake of the plot (since this is a long fic). I still like to keep things fairly vague so that readers can either pretend it's their family or pretend Reader was adopted at birth and are still able to insert themselves into the story if they want. With that out of the way, enjoy part one! Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

Hunched over the sink as the bright, late morning sun filtered in through the kitchen windows, you scrubbed at the pan you’d used earlier to make breakfast for the guests currently staying at Springwood. Omelets had been on today's menu and they had taken you a good portion of the morning to prepare and cook despite only having three guests who had stayed at the bed and breakfast this weekend. Though you didn't necessarily mind the extra work because you usually rose early in the morning everyday, always unable to fall back asleep because you felt a little restless. Which was why you often welcomed any opportunity to keep yourself busy at Springwood.

Focused on your current task, the warm, soapy water splashing over your bare hands, you were too deep in your thoughts to catch the sound of soft footsteps shuffling towards you over the scrubbing of your sponge. It wasn't until you'd heard a voice behind you that you realized you were no longer alone in the bed and breakfast’s kitchen.

“Relax there, honey bee, or you’re going to wear that poor pan out.”

Startled at your grandmother’s unexpected presence, you jumped at your place in front of the sink. In your surprise you had dropped the pan into the soapy water with a loud, messy splash. Looking over your shoulder, fresh soap bubbles now splattered across your face, you found your Nan grinning at you and shaking her head.

“You’re too uptight, bee,” she teased. “Always so in your head. I swear an elephant could sneak up on you sometimes.”

“Well you're certainly quieter than an elephant, Nan,” you countered, rubbing a forearm at the soap that had splattered on your face. “And I'm not entirely convinced you don't know some secret way to get around this place unnoticed.”

Your grandmother only smiled as she continued her way across the kitchen to you. Turning your attention back towards the pan you'd dropped in the sink, you picked it up along with your sponge and resumed your cleaning. 

“I could have taken care of the morning dishes, you know,” she told you. “You've been doing all the cooking and cleaning the past few months, honey bee. You're not leaving much for an old woman to tend to.”

You shot your grandmother a grin over your shoulder. “That's the point, Nan,” you replied. “You've done plenty over the years here. I'm completely capable of handling the load. It isn't like we're constantly booked to capacity or anything.”

“Well, no,” she agreed slowly. “But little bee, when was the last time you had a day off?”

Switching on the faucet, you rinsed the large pan underneath the spray. Watching the soap bubbles disperse, you shrugged at your grandmother’s question.

“I don't know,” you answered her, reaching over and setting the pan into the drying rack on the counter. “It's been awhile, I suppose.”

“Don't you think you should get out of this place more often?” she asked. “Spend some time with your friends? Maybe go on a date every once and awhile?”

Pausing mid-scrub of a plate, you turned and shot your grandmother a pointed look. “Nan, you ask me this like clockwork almost every four months,” you pointed out. “I'm fine . I actually like working here, you know. The guests keep me busy over the weekends, and the gardening, cleaning, and paperwork keeps me busy during the week. And in my downtime,” you continued, focusing back on washing the plate in your hands, “I've got plenty of books to read.”

Your grandmother padded over to the counter beside you, one of her hands raising up to lightly rest along your shoulder. Pausing once more when you felt her give you a gentle squeeze, you glanced down at her hand before your eyes eventually met hers.

“Don't you ever get lonely, honey bee?” she asked. “It's just the two of us here.”

“Well there's also the Johnsons,” you joked. “At least until morning check-out, that is.”

Nan released your shoulder, her hand playfully slapping your arm as she shot you a look. Though you could see the smile she was fighting back, the corners of her lips twitching.

“They've already checked out,” she told you. “Just before I came in here to find you. But you know what I meant, bee. You're far too young and full of life to be holed up in this place with me all the time. You should find yourself a nice man.”

Rolling your eyes, you opened your mouth to protest, but your grandmother quickly cut you off.

“Or a nice woman,” she amended with a cheeky grin. “You know I don't judge.”

Shaking your head, you focused on rinsing off the plate in your hands before adding it to the drying rack beside the pan. “You worry too much about me,” you told her. 

“Someone ought to,” she replied. “I'm an old woman. Someday I won't be around and I don't want to think about you being here all by yourself.”

“Then I'll get a cat,” you teased. “And then I won't–”

The sound of a loud, growling engine roared over your words, drowning them out. At first the noise was just a distant rumble, your brows drawing together as you tried to place where the sound was coming from. But it didn’t take long for you to realize that the sound was quickly growing nearer, clearly coming from a car making its way up the winding drive to Springwood. 

Almost simultaneously, both you and your grandmother leaned over the counter towards the kitchen window above the sink, peering out at what you could see of the driveway. It was a moment before you spotted a black muscle car through the trees that lined the long drive. The pair of you silently watched as the car gradually made its way along the path, heading to the front of the bed and breakfast. 

“Well you don't see that every day,” Nan muttered, her voice just audible over the roar of the car’s engine. “Not ‘round here at least.”

“No,” you whispered, transfixed by the car glinting in the sunlight as it drove, the plate in your hands temporarily forgotten, “you certainly don't.”

“Wasn't expecting anyone to be checking in on a Sunday, either,” Nan said. “Suppose whoever that is will keep us busy for a bit.”

After a moment, the car disappeared from view and you remembered the plate in your hands. Focusing back on it, you turned the faucet on and ran it under the warm spray. As the soap washed away, you felt your grandmother lightly pat your shoulder. At the feel of her touch, you looked over at her in time to see her turning and making her way out of the kitchen.

“I'll go greet our new guests, bee,” Nan called back to you. “Maybe you can come help them find their rooms?”

“Yeah,” you replied. “I'll just wash up these last few dishes from this morning and I'll be right out.”

After your grandmother had disappeared, you’d spent the next couple of minutes cleaning the last few pieces of silverware, your hands moving quickly and efficiently. Once finished, you dried off your hands and hurried out of the kitchen, making your way down the long hall towards Springwood's foyer in order to help Nan with the new guests that had just arrived.

As you headed down the hallway, passing by the entrances to Springwood's dining room, library, and sitting room, you'd expected to overhear your Nan talking to an older couple. Considering the type of car you'd seen pull up, you found yourself surprised when it sounded like the voices of two younger men speaking with her. When you grew near enough to the bed and breakfast’s foyer, you couldn't help but overhear their conversation. 

“...such a nice little town,” Nan had been saying. “I hope you'll be enjoying your stay here.”

“Oh, I'm sure we will,” a man's voice politely replied. “Though we'll probably be spending most of our time in the town over. In Arlington.”

“Arlington?” Nan repeated in mild surprise. “What's in Arlington that would have brought the pair of you boys out this way?”

Stepping out of the hall and through the archway that led into Springwood's entrance, you caught sight of the two young men who were currently checking into the bed and breakfast. Abruptly stopping short the second you actually saw them, you were taken by surprise as a soft gasp slipped out of you. Standing frozen in the doorway, your feet rooted to the spot, you saw both men’s attention shift from your grandmother behind the front desk and over to you. The shorter of the pair’s gaze quickly began to size you up, his eyes scanning you over from top to bottom. Beside him, the taller one sent you a friendly smile in greeting. You couldn’t help but notice something warm and comforting in the way his eyes held your own, something about him easily drawing a smile from you back at him.

These men looked absolutely nothing like the usual guests who stayed at the bed and breakfast. For starters, they were incredibly attractive–which felt like a vast understatement. They looked as if they'd walked straight out of some magazine advertisement even if they weren't dressed in anything out of the ordinary. And besides how noticeably handsome they were, they also weren't here with a family, nor were they an older couple clearly in their retirement years enjoying their free time traveling. Those were generally the type of guests you had staying at the bed and breakfast regularly, not insanely attractive young men. You'd also thought it was strange that they'd shown up at the end of the weekend when Springwood's guests typically checked in at the beginning of one. You found yourself instantly intrigued by the pair of these strangers, wondering why they'd chosen to stop here and not at the Hilton that was twenty minutes away in Bridgeport–a significantly larger and more exciting city. 

“We're here for work, actually,” the one with cropped blonde hair answered, focusing back on your Nan. “It tends to take us to all sorts of places across the country.”

“Oh does it?” Nan said conversationally, sliding the keys to their rooms across the desk. “And what is it you gentlemen do for work?”

“We uh,” the blonde began, pausing to clear his throat. “We–we work for a magazine.”

“A small travel magazine,” the one with slightly longer dark hair quickly added. “It’s uh, it’s not a very big magazine. At the moment, at least.”

One of your brows quirked up onto your forehead at the way in which they'd responded. They hadn't sounded so sure of themselves in their answer. Almost as if it was a lie. But why would they have lied about their job? And why would a travel magazine be interested in anything out in a small town like Pine Ridge or Arlington?

As you found yourself growing even more curious about the men and their strange response, you couldn’t help but continue to stare at the taller of the pair. He towered over the other man beside him, a seemingly genuine smile on his face as he focused on Nan. Your fingers itched to brush away some of the dark wisps of hair falling into his eyes the longer you studied him. You also couldn’t help but notice the way his navy tee-shirt clung to the front of his chest beneath the baggy, brown jacket he was wearing. 

You couldn't quite place what it was about him, but you found yourself struggling to tear your eyes away from him the longer the pair stood there. Maybe it was the friendly smile he'd initially sent you accompanied by the set of adorable dimples on his cheeks, or maybe it was the unexpected gentleness that seemed to be radiating from him despite the other man's self-assured–and possibly arrogant–demeanor. Either way, your eyes were oddly drawn to him.

Until he glanced back at you when you heard your Nan give them your name in way of introduction and he'd caught you staring. 

Smiling sheepishly back at the pair of them, you forced yourself to straighten your posture and clear your throat. You were supposed to be a professional when it came to working with the guests after all–even if they were two painfully attractive guests. You should have known better than to be staring.

But you could certainly act normal. Because you didn't have a choice not to, not with them staying here. Especially not if they actually did work with a travel magazine. You didn’t need a bad review of Springwood getting around because it would kill the business.

“My granddaughter here can show you gentlemen to your rooms,” Nan's voice said, breaking through your thoughts. 

She turned and sent you a smile from behind the front desk, but the mischievous glint in her eyes didn't escape your notice. No doubt you'd get an earful later about how attractive they were and whether she thought they were possible suitors instead of just traveling guests who'd be gone from your lives before you knew it. A conversation you were already not looking forward to later.

“Though maybe first you'd like to show them around Springwood a little, honey bee?” she suggested. “You know, let them get acquainted with the place.”

With a sigh, you plastered your most professional smile onto your face before waving a hand at the two men. “If you'd like to follow me this way, I can certainly give you both a brief tour of Springwood’s main floor before showing you to your rooms.”

The blonde suddenly grinned wide at you, the cocky confidence you’d picked up on from him rolling off of him in waves now. The intensity of it had you biting your tongue and refraining from making a comment as you continued to keep your practiced, professional smile on your face instead. Though you were still fighting to keep your eyes from returning to the taller and more attractive of the two. 

“We'd certainly love to follow you,” the blonde replied, shooting the man next to him a little smirk. “Wouldn't we?”

Your expression faltered at his tone, your head tilting a bit to the side. It had sounded as if there had been something else intended in his words, a double meaning that almost seemed inappropriate, though you weren't entirely sure. But your suspicions were confirmed when the brunette roughly elbowed the blonde in return, sending you an awkward smile as he did. 

“Sure, we'd love a tour,” the brunette said. “That sounds like it’d be helpful.”

Eyes narrowing, you curiously studied them for a second longer, taking in the wounded look on the blonde's face as he rubbed his side. Beside him, the taller one was shooting you a strained, polite smile. Choosing to ignore the question dying to spring out of you, you turned and headed back into the hallway. Behind you, you heard the heavy footsteps of both men following after you. 

“So down this hallway,” you began as you walked, “you'll find a lot of the main areas our guests enjoy here during their stay at Springwood. The first room to your right is our sitting room, which is also where you'll find the staircase that leads us up to Springwood's second floor, and that’s where our guest bedrooms are located.”

You came to a stop beside the entrance to the biggest room on the main floor of the bed and breakfast, gesturing a hand at the doorway that led into the sitting room. Both men glanced inside, examining the space that was filled with a few cozy sofas situated around a fireplace. 

“There's also a door that leads to the back garden just through this room,” you told them. “It tends to be a nice, peaceful spot where guests often enjoy doing some work or catching up on reading. Or even having a morning coffee. Though,” you continued, turning and heading further down the hall as the men followed behind you, “we also have a small library that some guests like to use as a quiet place to focus on work while they’re here, too.”

Stopping in front of the next room on your left, you once more gestured inside. This room was one you personally spent a lot of time in yourself when the bed and breakfast was empty. Usually you would curl up on the sofa with a book and a blanket, spending rainy days reading when you couldn't enjoy the garden outside.

“You both might find the space useful if you're here for work and want to get out of your room for a bit,” you told them. “There's a couple of desks inside and a printer you’re welcome to use. It's pretty quiet in there. And then further down this way,” you said, turning and leading the pair a few more steps down the hall as you continued on your tour, “is a place you may want to remember. In here is Springwood's dining room.”

You came to a stop in front of the dining room on your right, watching as both men once more craned their necks for a look inside. It was a fairly large room with a few different sized tables meant to accommodate couples and families alike, though when it wasn't tourist season–like right now–it was often depressingly empty and quiet. 

“We serve breakfast here between eight and ten every morning,” you informed them. “There's a daily breakfast menu in your rooms, but when it's off season for tourists during winter and spring months, I'm open to taking suggestions for other things. Given enough time to prepare, of course.”

The blonde turned his attention back on you, a devilish grin lighting up his face. “Open to suggestions, huh?” he asked, his tone once again hinting at something else. “I like the sound of that. I could definitely think of a few things I'd like to suggest, you know?”

Both of your brows slowly rose upwards as you stared back at him in disbelief, unsure how this man could be making such blatant innuendos if he was here on business and representing a travel magazine. Especially with his colleague standing right next to him. Something certainly didn't seem to add up with their story, not with their strange behavior since you'd met them. But before you could say anything, you saw the taller of the pair once more sharply elbow him in the side.

“Dean,” he hissed out of the corner of his mouth.

You noticed the way the blonde shot the other an insulted look, something far too familiar passing between them to just be colleagues. They definitely didn't seem to be acting like a pair of professionals on a business trip. 

With an awkward chuckle, the brunette sent a nervous smile back at you. “Sorry about my brother,” he apologized, “he has a habit of saying whatever pops into his head without thinking first. It’s something he should probably work on.”

“So you're…brothers?” you asked, eyes jumping between the both of them. “Brothers that happen to both work at the same travel magazine? That's interesting.”

At your comment, the pair abruptly exchanged a look with each other. Wordlessly you watched them, carefully scrutinizing the way it appeared as if they were silently communicating with each other. You caught how the blonde roughly shook his head at his brother, the movement small but just enough for you to have picked up on it. The brunette's eyes had gone a bit wide in response before they seemed to be pointedly glaring back at him.

“What travel magazine did you say you two worked for?” you questioned, interrupting whatever moment they were having. “And I also don't think I ever caught either of your names now that I think about it.”

The pair broke out of their silent conversation, both of them shifting awkwardly on their feet as their attention returned to you. You couldn’t help but notice that the smiles on their faces once more looked oddly strained. Despite knowing better than to pry too hard with guests, you found yourself desperately wanting to learn more about them and what it seemed like they were hiding. 

“We are brothers,” the brunette confirmed. He raised a hand, pointing to himself as he said, “I'm Sam and this is my brother Dean.” 

He gestured over his shoulder at the shorter blonde, your eyes following his hand’s movements. Dean was standing there shooting you what you presumed was meant to be a charming smile, but you weren’t remotely charmed by it. 

“We both work for, uh–” Sam continued, though he quickly broke off.

Gaze drawn back towards him when he’d spoken, you watched as his face scrunched up as if he was in thought. Beside him, Dean let out a faint chuckle, lightly slapping his brother on the arm.

“We work for a magazine called The Open Road , but my brother here is new. I just recently got him a position,” Dean’s smooth voice explained. “He often forgets the name of the magazine because he’s just…so new. You know?” He turned and shot his brother a look. “Isn’t that right, Sammy?”

Sam forced a smile onto his face as he nodded, the gesture looking a little stiff. “Right,” he agreed. “I’m uh, I’m quite new to the magazine. This is actually my first assignment. So it's…all new.”

“Oh,” you replied slowly, still scrutinizing them carefully as you made a mental note to look into the magazine later. “That must be nice. I imagine getting to travel for work is exciting.”

Dean laughed lightly, something glinting in his eyes as he did. “You have no idea how right you are.”

Ignoring the strangeness of his comment, you decided to focus on finishing the tour instead of being too noticeably nosey. They’d probably stop giving up too much truthful information so freely if you didn’t. 

You took a moment to point out the first floor restrooms across from the dining room before leading the men back down the hallway from which you’d initially come. As you led them towards the sitting room, you overheard them sharing some hushed words behind you, but they were speaking far too quietly for you to be able to really make out anything they were saying. And admittedly, you’d been trying.

“So your rooms are just upstairs,” you explained as you approached the staircase. “And once we reach those that’ll basically conclude our little tour.”

Making your way up the stairs, one hand trailing along the banister, you noticed both men were now quiet behind you. When you finally reached the landing on the second floor, you found yourself a little disappointed that the brief tour was already over because it meant you had no more reason to continue to try to unravel whatever mystery seemed to be hanging over these brothers. And it certainly seemed like there was something more to them than what they were letting on. 

“These will be your rooms for your stay with us at Springwood,” you said, pointing out the two doors to your right marked with a number one and two. “If there’s anything else I can help you both with during your stay, please don’t hesitate to ask. My grandmother and I are always somewhere on the property.”

“Thank you so much for the tour,” Sam told you, adjusting the duffle bag on his shoulder. “But I think you’ve been quite helpful enough already. We won't take up anymore of your time this morning.”

You sent him a polite smile and a single nod before turning, but you’d only managed to take a single step before you heard Dean call your name behind you. Immediately you stopped at the sound of his voice, glancing over your shoulder at him. 

“You said breakfast ended at ten,” he began, “and we’ve had a long drive. Is there anywhere you could recommend close by for us to grab some food? Either breakfast or lunch? We’re basically starving.” 

“Certainly,” you replied, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips as another opportunity to pry more answers out of them seemed to present itself. “There’s Rosie’s Diner a couple of miles down the road in Pine Ridge’s downtown,” you said, turning back towards them. “There's also a couple of fast food joints out that way, too. And Cast Iron Cafe. Or if you’re both not interested in driving anymore this morning,” you continued, trying not to sound overeager, “I’d be more than happy to scramble up some eggs and fry up some bacon?”

Sam held up a hand immediately, shaking his head. “Oh no,” he said, “we couldn’t possibly ask you to make us breakfast. Especially after hours.”

Dean’s head snapped to the side instantly. “Dude!” he exclaimed. “She offered.”

“Really, it’s no trouble,” you assured the pair. “Like I said, it’s off season for tourists right now. So both of you are our only guests at the moment. Honestly you’d be giving me something to do.”

“Eggs and bacon sounds perfect,” Dean replied, a big grin on his face. “And then I could use a nap. A long, long nap after all of that driving.”

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother before he shot you an apologetic look. You couldn’t help but admire the warmth in his eyes as he did, but then you quickly mentally scolded yourself for even thinking that. He was a guest, after all. Just a guest. One who’d be gone before you knew it, even if he and his brother were piquing your interest with their unusualness. Because that was all it was drawing you to him–their unusualness.

“I’ll let you both get settled in then,” you said, turning and beginning to make your way down the stairs. “If you head down to the dining room in about twenty minutes, I’ll have a couple of plates of food ready for you both.”

You were nearly halfway down the stairs when you overheard Dean behind you whispering to Sam, his voice just loud enough for you to catch what he’d said.

“Dude, this place is awesome,” he enthused. “We should definitely come back here.”

As you continued your way down the stairs, you couldn’t fight the growing, pleased smile on your lips, grateful they couldn’t see your face at the moment.

[softpawpup]

— caregiver ! queen bee from helluva boss headcannons !! ( request from anon )

🐝 loves taking you on days out, especially to any fairs or festivals that are going on, she spoils you and pays for all the games and snacks

👑 she thinks its cute when you giggle while running your hands through her blobby hair and tail

🍯 makes you lots of honey themed snacks

🐝 teaches you that bugs can be scary sometimes but they don't want to hurt you, they're scared of you too

👑 loves tie-dying things with you

🍯 makes you the cutest, most fun little mocktails

🐝 lets you get messy and then takes bubble baths with you after

👑 has lots of fancy soaps and shampoos and stuff for kiddos with sensitive skin or different hair types

🍯 flies around while she rocks you to sleep

🐝 likes making slime with you and doing other home diys

[sanniesluvs]

The haze of you

Chapter 1 : The garden 

Story Genres  / Warnings :

Yandere themes , Jealousy , gorey scenes (later in story ) Character death ,Triggering content (blood , violence etc ) 

Persephone!reader (“y/n “ used ), Hades!san , Garden , fountain of youth , Adam and Eve inspo (snake) readers body type isn't set / heavily described but i imagine her to be curvier ,  Lmk if i have missed any!

Warnings for this chapter  : neglectful/scary mother , yandere themes , y/n cant stand up to her mom 

Wordcount : 1.5kish 

enjoy~

Lilies : often associated with purity, renewal ,and innocence.

 The sun was gleaming down, rays hitting my bare skin like a hug . As the morning dew dampened the flowers that bloomed around me .

My eyes peeled open as I was greeted with a kiss by a monarch fluttering its wings as a gentle wake up call . 

I rose up from my bed adorned with lilies , dandelions and an assortment of other  flowers.

Stretching my stiff arms, as I shake my hair out with a yawn I take time to admire my surroundings , the glass windows on all sides of me wrapped with vines and flowers, and the sun gleaming above , I reach up to rub my eyes with a groan . 

“Persephanie!” a voice from the entrance called out to me 

“Persephanie! It's time to wake up dear ” the feminine voice continued 

“ I told you , call me y/n when my mother isn't around .” I practically groan out in annoyance . 

“ Sorry dear , Y/n it’s time to wake up , lessons begin soon “ She chuckled out as she corrected herself .

A small smile appeared on my face , I can't be too upset by the slip ups by my caretakers having a soft spot for them  . As they raised me and provided me companionship when I felt lonely in this seemingly endless garden.

I finally remove my hands from my eyes as I softly look up at Iris . One of the caretakers my mom created out of clay to look after me. Her tender brown eyes gazed at me.

I wrap my arms around my knees as I pull them to my chest and bury my face in between them.

“5 more minutes “ i plead softy  

“ Sorry Y/n but this lesson is important! Your mother will be returning soon with news and I must prepare you !” Iris practically beams as she tugs me out of bed 

“ Straight to the bath young lady! Cora is awaiting your arrival , Time is of the essence!” she exclaimed her voice getting farther away as i rushed to the bath.

Oh? Mother is coming ? how unusual… Does she bear bad news? 

I ponder as I swiftly make my way to the bath . This can't be good … can it? 

I hastily make my way through the garden , the fields of flowers in full bloom as i pass , the bees and insects hard at work pollinating the plants I spend all my free time planting .

 What else am I to do here besides read, sleep, attend lessons? Everyday is the same here in the garden . I yearn for something new. I try not to get caught up in pointless wishful thinking. 

Nevertheless I can't help but wish for change on every shooting star that passes by in the sky . 

wishing i could jump on one and ride it far, far away from this tedious place . 

It's not the worst place to be , At least i'm not in tartarus or being forced to work against my will as a slave in the human realm .

I try to be as grateful as possible. A lot of people have it worse. I should be thankful to my mother for keeping me safe here! 

But my heart … it wants more, it wants to experience love to get to feel something other than dull unfulfilled emptiness .ahh …wishful thinking indeed 

The warm water rolled down my body as Cora attempted to rinse the soap off me 

“Cora,i can wash myself, I appreciate the help but it is not necessary “

Frustration evident in my voice as I move to grab the water pail myself. 

“ Yes honey , I understand but your mother made us so that you didn’t have too. I am only doing what I was created to , I apologize if you are upset by it .”

Her monotone voice repeating the same speech she always has. Unlike Iris, Cora takes her role very seriously . 

If it wasn’t for Iris she wouldn't allow me to do anything , not even brush my own teeth !

But she takes a step back and allows me to finish bathing on my own.

“Cora…” My voice quivered as i slowly brought my gaze to hers 

“ Yes my dear ?” she softly replied as she attempted to reach for my hair 

“ Why is mother coming?” i turn to face her , reaching up to do my own hair 

“  I'm unsure … hopefully she brings good news!” her eyes shifted away from mine, shoulders tensing up she rushed the words out I let out a small hum of acknowledgement , even they are afraid of mother .

They might be made from clay but they comprehend emotions just like the rest of us . Their features are as human as possible .I often forget they aren’t real people .

“ Ahh, I see … Yes, hopefully it is good!” this cant be good…

A knock from the door ripped me away from the anxious thoughts festering in my mind 

“Y/n!” iris called out 

“Dear, you must hurry! Your mother will be here any minute ! We must start todays lesson!“ ughhh i mentally groan as I pick up my body from the tub. Today is gonna be a long day.

I hate lessons… the way they drag on seemingly endless . Table etiquette i eat alone! ,Math lessons , History lessons ,  how zeus's father ate him and his siblings , i don't care! the same stories about people i’ve never met and probably never will!  

I can't leave the garden now matter how hard I try so what's the point! These lessons are useless . I'm a smart girl. I may be “ naïve” but only because I have no experience with the world ! if I got the chance I could be on my own! 

Mother would never allow that though . how can someone who is never there, someone i feel like i barely even know be so … overbearing i feel the weight of her around me even when she's not present

“Y/N! , you’ve zoned out again, must I start from the beginning “ Irises voice pierced my thoughts 

oh no i groaned internally this is gonna drag on forever-

“Persephone.” The chilling voice called out, shivers rolling down my body as I straightened my posture  

“Mother, welcome back .” I move to kneel into a curtsy, my gaze going straight to her feet , Afraid to make eye contact . 

“My child , come I have an important matter to discuss with you. “ She is already walking towards the green house I call a bedroom. By the time I look up, she's half way there. I quickly move, catching up to but remaining behind my mother .

The silence is suffocating . Mother's intense gaze analyzing every inch of me, as almost unnoticeable shudders roll down my body. I take slow, breaths to calm my erratic heart beat.

I’m sat at mother's feet in the living area of my room. The small loveseat being taken up by her flowy dress . She begins to gently combs through my hair , coiling my curls with her fingers 

“Mother , it's a pleasure to have you back , to what do I owe this visit?” I tensely voiced with a small gracious smile to break this terrible silence ,Finally looking up to meet her gaze  .

“ My lily “ she began, using the nickname she gave me when i was as small as the seeds i plant everyday 

“Zeus has decided to throw another one of his …extravagant  galas” the mock happy tone would have fooled anyone else but i noticed the slight twitch of her eye  

As i attempt to respond her cold voice cuts in 

“ He has decided that every god and goddess must be in attendance “

 Her already firm grip on my hair tightened causing a small look of discomfort to cross my face , quickly being replaced with a smile .

Why is she telling me this? Did she really come to rub the fact that I can't go in my face? A tight smile gracing my face 

“ Ahh , that’s nice i hope you enjoy it mother “ the words were rushed , trying to end this conversation quickly as possible , then she will leave and i won't have to see her again anytime soon 

“ Persephone.”  she calls my name  in a softer tone than i've ever heard from her 

“Yes?”

“ Zeus.. he has decided you must be in attendance as well”  she tensed , her movements through my hair ceasing .

Oh? 

This is … unexpected 

I’ll be in attendance ? I’ll be leaving the garden ?? 

“Persephanie ..”

What will I wear? 

“Persephanie ..”

How do I act around other people? 

“Persephanine “ Mother's irritated loud voice cuts through the air 

“I understand this is a lot to take in but do not ignore me” her voice booms loud enough to shake the glass windows surrounding me

“Sorry mothe-” 

“Now . you will have a strict set of rules to follow for your BRIEF time outside the garden “

I lay awake staring at the stars above recounting today's odd events 

Mother coming to visit … finding out I get to leave the garden tomorrow !!!  I'm so excited. The dress mother left for me to wear is absolutely stunning. 

I never thought I would get to wear something so extravagant ! The thought had me kicking my feet with a squeal of excitement.

Mother instructed Iris and Cora to have me ready by 6 pm sharp, not a moment later !

I’ll see Olympus , meet other gods!! All i have to do is follow 3 rules and i'm golden 

Even if the rules are… stupid. 

Stay by mothers side at all times

Don’t eat any pomegranate offered to me ? 

Stay away from Hades and Aries 

Simple enough ? 1 and 3 seem reasonable , i wouldn't want to accidentally piss off ares or hades anyway . but the second rule is just … odd why pomegranate specifically ? 

I guess we will see what tomorrow brings . the final thought as my eyes drift shut.

Short 1st chapter but dw chapter 2 will be longer! He will be making his first appearance 👀

feel free to give feedback! only my first story so its not perfect <3

[fandom-kiddo]

A/N: ok I pinky swear I will write all your requests but I wrote this in a senioritis daze to make myself feel better. I hope y’all enjoy it!

CW: swearing, Tess and Joel have an irreconcilable fight, panic attacks, hurt/comfort, mentions of known character deaths, grumpy but soft spot for you, female reader, AFAB geared pet names, reader is a crybaby but we love them!(self indulgent if u squint)

Cg! Joel Miller X Little! Fem Reader

Joel didn’t know about your regression until coming up from a run earlier than expected and finding you on his floor in the living room, babbling happily as you played with old hot wheels. He looked in disbelief at your sock footed figure wearing an old t shirt of his and tiny shorts. You look notice of him after a minute, looking up and eyes growing wide. You began to cry and stumble over apologies with a lisp, backing away until you found yourself almost in the corner of the apartment near the radio.

Joel’s eyes softened as he approached you softly and carefully. “Hey little lady, let’s come out of that dirty corner hm? Come here, it’s alright.” His gruff voice said comfortingly. You looked up in wonder, crawling towards him gently and slowly. He crouched down, opening his arms to you. You went a little faster, letting Joel pick you up into his burly arms. Joel thanked whatever god there was that he knew what the hell this was from taking that psych class in college before outbreak day. He held you on his hip, running a hand through your hair gently.

“Hey little one, how old are you right now?” He asked gently. You looked away shyly and held up three fingers. He smiled and placed a soft peck on each finger, eliciting a giggle from you.

“You’re a tiny little bub, okay you wanna take a nap together or do you want me to make something for you?” He asked, smiling. A tiny part of you adult brain thought back on the fact that this is the only time, pretty much ever that you had seen Joel not scowling while awake.

“Uhhh daddy make foods?” You asked, looking up at him. His heart melted at the name and he grinned.

“Sure thing kiddo, I can make you something to eat, How’s grilled cheese sound?” He asked. You nodded happily, resting your head on the crook of his neck, inhaling the distinctly Joel scent of pine, soap, and earth. He sung a song that was stuck in his head softly. You recognized it pretty quickly, humming happily with him to the tune. So there you both were, your head resting on his shoulder as you hummed along with Joel singing Little Girl in Bloom by Thin Lizzy.

You sucked you thumb softly before Joel scolded you slightly. “No honey that’s yucky, you got a pacifier, darlin?” He asked sweetly. You shook you head, little tears rubbing down your cheeks softly as your eyes screwed shut and you tried not breathing to not sob.

Joel quickly set you on the counter, taking off your grilled cheese so it didn’t burn before coming up to you and stroking away the tears with his large, calloused thumbs. He briefly thought your resembled a cherub when you were this small. “Sugar you gotta breathe, come on darlin, breathe for daddy, it’s alright, I can grab you one or a teether honey bee, but you gotta breathe” he said, trying to breathe audibly to have you copy his breathing. You let out a sob as you began breathing, looking up at him as you kept sobbing.

“Good job honey bee, good girl, cmon honey now you gotta calm it down, breathe with daddy” he took a deep breath in, and a deep breath out “cmon babygirl, follow daddy” he encouraged, rubbing your arms firmly and comforting as he began grounding you, your breathing eventually beginning to bring you back down, copying Joel. Joel let out a sigh of relief.

“Good girl, so so well for daddy. You can’t just quit breathing on me honey, it’s okay to cry, it’s not okay to stop breathing, alright? You scare me more with no breathing before ever scaring me with some crying, okay darlin?” You nodded softly, crying slightly and frowning, rubbing your eye roughly.

“Hey, hey it’s okay honey, you just did what you thought was right, no need crying over spilt milk, darlin, we’re both learning, okay?” Joel told you lovingly, kissing your temple.

“Sorry daddy, m didn’t mean to scare you.. I jus gotta be tough or I get hurt” you said softly, lip wobbling.

If Joel’s heart wasn’t feeling cracked already, you broke it.

“Why you say that honey? Who told my little girl that?” He asked, carding a hand through your hair. You shook your head, biting your lip hard.

“Darlin, who said it” he asked, trying to keep levelheaded.

“She’s gonna get in trouble if I tell daddy, m don’t wanna be bad or mean” you said, whimpering.

“It’s okay, you gotta tell daddy these things honey, who’s she?” He asked softly, despite the rage he felt coiling like an angry diamondback in his gut.

“was um.. was ‘ess” you said shyly, curling up on yourself. Joel was speechless. His best friend? He could see you retreating into yourself as you curled in on yourself.

“Okay, thank you for telling me, sugar, let’s get some food in your tummy hmm?” He asked. You nodded softly, Joel restarted the stove and finished cooking your grilled cheese before putting it on a plate and cutting it into four for you. He kissed your temple and helped you into a chair at the bar in his kitchen, letting you eat.

“Daddy eat?”you asked, worried. He shook his head.

“No, daddy hasn’t eaten yet.” He said lovingly, smiling softly.

“Daddy eat wif me?” You ask, feeling smaller. He smiled, wondering to himself how he got so lucky to have such a caring little.

“Alright darlin, let daddy whip myself up one real quick sugar” he peppered your cheeks in kisses and made you giggle. He swears it sounds like a porcelain dinner bell. He smiles fondly, making his quickly before plating it and joining you at the kitchen bar. His was just cut into two. He ate it next to you, you leaning your head into your caregiver as you ate.

“Daddy mad?” You asked softly, eating your square of grilled cheese.

“Not at you darlin, never at you” he said in between bites. He leaned into you slightly.

“Daddy mad at ‘ess?” You asked shyly. He nodded slightly.

“Why did she tell you that, sugar? You know?” He asked gently.

“M was crying cos I was worried n missed you when you went on the run before last n it took longer than it should n she got mad at me for crying n said “stop crying. In this world you gotta be tough. You’re not tough, you’re gonna get hurt or get yourself killed.” N I kept crying cos I was worried n she scared me more n she slapped me..” you said sadly, tiny tears rolling down your cheek. Joel had a new found anger that coiled in his chest like a pissed off rattler at this information.

“Darlin, the only time you can’t cry is infront of the infected. Only gotta be tough until the infected aren’t gonna try and hurt you honey bee. In the QZ or away from infected it’s okay, if daddy says you gotta be tough that’s the only time it’s not okay, okay?” He asked, wiping away tears.

“Mkay daddy” you said finishing your grilled cheese together.

———-

“What the hell is wrong with you Tess?” Joel asked angrily after going to Tess’ apartment.

“What the fuck are you on about now, Joel?” She asked, frustrated.

“Why the fuck did she think that crying is a death sentence? She tried not breathing so she wouldn’t cry until she was getting blue in the face and I had to pull her out of a fucking panic attack Tess!”he said angrily. Tess looked at him and scoffed.

“It’s not my fault the idiot quit fuckin breathing, Joel. I told her to stop crying the run before last because me and you both know that stupid shit gets you killed with the infected.”Tess said coldly.

“She’s not an idiot, let’s get that straight. She might be a crybaby, Tess, but she’s my crybaby. It might get her hurt outside of the QZ around a fucking clicker, but not in here. She thought it wasn’t okay to cry at all. That’s who she is, she’s innocent and sensitive and that’s what I love about her. She doesn’t need you filling her head with this poison telling her not to be herself unless she wants to die. Fuck you, Tess.” Joel seethed.

“Now you love her? Cut me a fucking break Joel. She’s a crybaby and pretty much useless. She can’t handle this fucking world and thinks crying is the fuckin’ solution.” Tess sneered, scoffing slightly.

“Yeah I do love her Tess, and you ain’t got even an iota of right to tell her that kinda shit!”Joel yelled at her.

“What, you think you can save her? Like you were some fucking Clint Eastwood? Like your so good at saving people? Like you saved Sarah-“ Tess jeered.

“Don’t you dare fucking bring her into this! How fucking dare you even begin trying to bring her into this? I confide in you about shit and that’s what you do? What about your husband? Or your kid? I’m the fuck up? I thought we were fuckin’ friends Tess. And another thing, you lay a fucking hand on her again, and I’ll saw it off myself. Your not my fuckin’ friend. You’re fuckin’ dead to me.” Joel seethed like an angry rattlesnake, turning and storming out out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him.

Joel stormed down the stairs, wiping his eyes. He couldn’t believe someone who he called his best friend would stoop as low as to attack his biggest inner demon. He felt bad about it, but she struck that nerve first. He shook his head and instead thought about you, willing himself to find his way back to you as he went through the tattered streets of the QZ.

————-

Joel walked back home, buying a pacifier and a few other little things with his ration cards. He walked up the stairs to find you in his apartment, this time wrapped up in one of his flannels, curled up in bed.

“Did my little honey bee get sleepy? Aw hon, how about you and daddy take a nap together hm?” He asked. You nodded sleepily and reached for Joel. He cooed and toed off his boots and changed into sleep shorts and a worn shirt. He picked you up and got into his bed, pulling a thick blanket over both of you. You remained latched onto him, nose nuzzled into his neck.

“Missed daddy, didn’t wanna cry” you said softly. He smiled softly.

“I was only gone an hour babygirl” he chuckled softly, swiping hair away from your forehead and kissing her forehead.

“M know bu still missed you” you said, nosing at the hollow of his collar bone, wrapping your arms tighter around his middle. He rubbed your back affectionately, holding you tighter.

“If it makes you feel better, sugar, I missed my girl too” he smiled softly. You giggled softly, a part of you fluttering at the pet names. My girl, baby girl, darlin, sugar, little lady, my little honey bee, mine. You almost cried at the pure care and love Joel gave you. You hadn’t even noticed the tears on your cheeks until Joel felt the tears on his neck.

“Why are you cryin, my little honey bee?” He asked sitting up slightly, looking down worriedly.

“Happy tears, Jus’ care so much for me, I’m jus’ so lucky s’all” you said through your wavering voice and sniffles to accompany it.

“You’re my girl, that’s my job, little lady” he smiled fondly, wiping away your tears. You placed your hand over his, placing a delicate kiss to his palm. He cooed and peppered your eyes in little kisses, making your little sniffles turn to giggles.

“Y’know I got ya some gifts while I was out”he said, dragging his knuckles lightly over the back of your arms.

“Daddy got gifts? F’r me? Why?” You asked curiously, looking up at him.

“Just wanted to, sugar” he said softly, a lopsided smile gracing his lips.

“Can I see em?” You asked, nibbling on your thumb.

“Yeah we can go look at em honey, cmon” he said, picking you up as he got up, carrying you to the living room where a brown satchel laid on the table. He set you down on the couch, you reaching for him. He chuckled softly”m right here, darlin, daddy’s not going anywhere.”he said comfortingly, giving you a swift kiss on your temple. You giggled happily, watching as he grabbed the bag. He pulled out a pacifier, handing it to you. You gasped happily, flapping your hands excitedly.

Joel smiled, pulling out a teether, handing it to you. You squealed in excitement. He chuckled softly, pulling out a bottle and sippy cup with Elmo and big bird on it, respectively. Little tears came to your eyes with the fond memories of your childhood when watching Sesame Street.

“Thank yous s’much, daddy” you sniffled, hugging his toned arm.

“No problem, sugar, hold the tears honey bun, I still got another gift for my sweet girl” he said, kissing your forehead.

“‘Nother one?” You asked curiously, Joel hummed in conformation.

Joel pulled out a handmade stuffed animal one of the other ladies in the QZ made. It was a liitle white lamb with a pink ribbon on the neck. “I saw it and didn’t think you had any stuffed animals, and it reminded me of you so much I had to get it for my little lamb” he said affectionately, giving you the stuffed lamb.

You really we’re crying now, grabbing your stuffed lamb and holding it close. You began getting into his lap, burying your face in his chest as you cried.

“Thank you’s s’much, i love it all” you cried, holding onto him so tight, like you were scared he’d disappear. He hugged you tightly, holding you in his burly arms.

“You’re welcome, darlin, you like em?” He asked, running a hand through your hair.

You nodded”I love em, daddy” you smiled, kissing him on the cheek. He smiled, thumbing away your tears.

“Okay darlin I think we’ve had enough excitement that a nap is in order, you want your pacifier?” He asked.

You smiled, nodding happily as he put the pacifier in your mouth. You clicked the silicone against itself, getting used to it. He smiled at you, rubbing your cheek affectionately. You leaned into the feeling, suckling at your pacifier, feeling yourself get sleepier at the comforting item.

“Okay sugar, let’s get us to that nap, little lady, you got your lamb?”he asked, smiling slightly at your droopy eyed, relaxed face. You nodded sleepily, rubbing your eye before wrapping your arm around his neck, holding your lamb in the other hand. Joel got up, hiking you up on his hip. He kissed your nose, smiling. You gave him a kiss on the lips with your pacifier still in you mouth and giggled. He grinned, carrying you back to the room and reassuming the position you were originally in.

“Wuv daddy”you mumbled softly around your pacifier. He smiled and kissed your head, letting the firm peck linger for a moment.

“I love you too darlin, so much. My babygirl.” He said lovingly and you held your lamb closer. He rubbed your back comfortingly, shaking his leg gently to mimic rocking your you. You snuggled closer, letting out a sigh of comfort. Finally you closed your eyes, sleep soon overtaking you as Joel held you in your arms, rocking you and humming softly. You felt safe for the first time in so long. Joel made you feel safe in this awful world.

You did the same for Joel. Gone were the nightmares of losing his daughter, of holding her as light rapidly lost in her eyes and her quickened sharp breaths soon fell silent. Joel hated hearing Sarah hyperventilating so, but would’ve given anything to hear that rather than the silence of her soul leaving her body. For once he didn’t let sleep consume him just to relive the worst moment of his life. As he laid with you, holding you tightly in his burly arms as he rocked you slightly. He drifted to sleep as you breathing evened out. And for once, He slept soundly, intertwined with you as your hearts and breaths moved in synch.

[spookyliltot]

Gender neutral little! reader + Cg! Natasha Romanoff (sfw age regression!) Divider isnt mine!

Baking with Mama Nat <3

Translations of endearment terms: "Золотце" = "Darling", "Пчелка"= Little bee

You waited patiently on the couch, watching your favorite cartoon while you did so. Mama and you had plans to make cookies later today! You were just waiting for her to get home, she was a hard worker and spent lots of time working. But she always made time for her baby.

You heard the jingle of keys from the other side of the door, you immediately hopped up and opened the door. Standing on t he other side was Natasha, holding her keys up to the door. She smiled.

"Hi baby" She walked in and sat her things down, then took off her shoes. Then she gave you a quick kiss on the cheek and looked at you. You were wearing your favorite outfit, you had gotten all ready for your mama. "Look at my little one, gorgeous!" She smiled again.

You giggled and grabbed her hand. "Cookies!" You tried to lead her to the kitchen. She followed and rolled up her sleeves, then helped you roll yours up too. "What do we do before we bake?"

"Wash hands!" You said excitedly. "Good job" Your mama nodded, then helped you over to the sink and put some soap on her hands. Then she helped you wash your hands, as she washed hers. Once you both had washed your hands, she grabbed a hand towel and dried off your hands, then hers.

"Alright Золотце, lets get the ingredients out. We need sugar, eggs, flower, baking powder, and butter" She opened the cupboard and handed you the sugar, flower and baking powder. You sat it on the counter and started rummaging around in another cupboard for a bowl.

Natasha opened the fridge and got out the eggs and butter, sitting them on the counter. You handed her a bowl with a big smile. She placed her hand on your cheek and rubbed her thumb against it softly. "My sweet Пчелка" You smiled and leaned into her touch.

Nat sat the bowl down and started putting the dry ingredients into it, then the others shortly after, allowing you to help pour in a few things. "Good job baby" She put her hand on your back as you cracked the eggs into the bowl.

She handed you a spoon and let you mix it as much as you could, then she took over. She mixed it until it was mixed fully, then she pulled out a baking sheet. You both scooped little balls of cookie dough onto the tray.

"Okay honey, step away so Mama can put the cookies in the oven" She says, you stepped away and let her put the pan in. As soon as the oven was closed you rushed to the oven and looked through the little window thingie at the cookies.

You wanted to watch them bake, but Mama said you should go get into pjs and by the time you were done the cookies would be too. So you headed into your room and started looking for pjs. Natasha helped you pick out a pair of pjs that were (your favorite animal) themed and helped you into them. Then she put her own pjs on, a graphic t shirt and some shorts.

She grabbed your favorite paci and held it up to your mouth, you took it with a hum and hugged your mama.

"Alright babes, lets go check on those cookies" You both headed to the kitchen, she told you to stay back as she opened the oven and took the cookies out. You could smell them, they smelled soooo delicious! You wanted to just take one, but Mama put her hand in front of you.

"Too hot, little one" She explained, then picked you up to sit on the counter. She grabbed one of your bottles out of the cupboard and filled it with milk. Then she put a cookie on a plate and put it on the table, she helped you down and then had you sit at the table.

You both sat down and ate your cookies with milk :3 yippee!

[bodhranwriting]

Finn and the Arsonist by Bodh M.

In three years of running the only cat sanctuary in Middle Besser, I’ve heard a lot of their odd tales about how they ended up here.

Getting into fights is a common one. Getting trapped in wells happens more often that you’d think. Inattentive families, owners needing the space… the list goes on. I try not to judge people’s situations too harshly. After all, my main witness is going to be a little biased and cat-senses don’t always translate well to human, as you’d expect. But there are definitely pickups I’ve done that have made my blood boil, if you don’t mind me saying.

But I’ve never had one before that made me scared and certainly never had one involving one of my closest friends.

It was a stinking hot day in the middle of summer when a small child barged open the door to the Respite with a terrified cat yowling at a pitch to match the temple bells.

I had been dozing at the counter, sweat sticking my sandy curls to my forehead and a new bandage wrapped around my arm – one kitten had not wanted to take her medicine – so I damn well fell out of my chair as a screaming feline was dumped a fingerbreadth from my face.

“I found them in Gert’s Alley,” the girl said helpfully, in lieu of greeting. She was probably nine or ten; a scruffy little thing in a faded blue dress with adorable tight black coils and a missing tooth so her next words came out as a lisp, “He theemed thercared. Look at all the blood!”

Dragging myself up from floor and trying to wipe the sleep from my eyes, I blearily focused on my newest patient. She (and definitely she, I noted as she wriggled out of the blanket) was a gorgeous black Kysi with golden eyes and the huge ears typical to her breed. As she backed up, hissing, I reached out a hand and concentrated, drawing up warm reserves of the little magic I had from my chest and into my throat.

Translation spells, in my experience anyway, always had a taste. I’d never been particularly good at them: it was almost easier to just do the hard work and learn the language. But translating my tongue to that of cats was like clicking your fingers might be to someone else. Easy. Not requiring much thought at all.

Cat tastes like buttermilk. I don’t know why, but there seems to be a connection to what I taste and what I’m trying to speak. Bee tastes, almost boringly, of honey. Spider has a dusty texture. Rat, for some odd reason, is hazelnut. I haven’t worked out that one and neither had the teachers out in the Hartland’s. I think one of my classmates who fell into the academic trap – track, sorry – is compiling research on it.

(I answered her very impersonal letter a few months ago and never heard back. Hope I helped. She did bully me into passing my star-reading exam, after all.)

I took a breath, the flavour rising into my nose, and attempted first contact. “Easy there… I’m not gonna hurt you… what’s your name…?”

The cat hissed again, but only for show because she answered quickly, “Smells-like-this. But upright call me Smoke.”

“I’m Finn,” I said, almost more for the benefit of the still-watching urchin. I projected an imitation of my scent into her mind: a kind of mix of cat fur, woodsmoke, and lye soap, and asked, “May I touch you? I need to find where you’re bleeding.”

Smoke hesitated and then lay down. “Yes.”

Carefully, I reached forwards, letting her sniff my hand. “Could you get me a bucket from the pump?” I asked the girl.

She nodded with great dignity and vanished outside. I turned my attention back to Smoke. It was funny: she was far better fed than a stray ought to be –

“Know your smell, upright.”

I jumped. Swallowing hard, I managed to keep the connection strong enough to ask, “You… do?”

Smoke curled up under my hand. “It was on take-off furs. And blood not mine.”

Ice settled in my stomach, cold fingers squeezing my guts paper-thin. “Whose is it…?”

Her tail thrashed, ears flattening against her head. “My upright.” The flash of fangs made me jerk my hand away. I was panting and I didn’t know why.

“What happened?”

Smoke sat up again, fixing shining golden eyes on me. She raised her head like a queen, crossing one paw in front of the other.

“Uprights invade territory. Smash door. I fight. Upright feeder does too. I run when they lay red flower.”

“Red flow…” Suddenly, the buttermilk soured to smoke and ash as my mind made the necessary translation. Terror thumped through my chest. “They burnt the house?”

I grabbed the cat by the scruff of the neck as she bolted from my shout. She tried to claw at me, but I didn’t even feel it. “What does your upright look like, Smoke?”

“Put down!”

“Please, tell me. What do they look like?”

“Upright! Smell like this! Not white-yellow fur like you. White-orange fur! Cloud eye! Make pretty noise a lot!” She meowed as I dropped her, landing perfectly on the table as I fell into my chair.

“Gert’s Alley… that’s where you were found?”

Smoke leapt to the ground and gave me the feline equivalent of a shrug.

I was up and running down the street before I even realised I’d processed the information.

[vvvlamb]

saturday, may 4 — miscellaneous 141 hobbies during dwell time

╭ soap: hes an energetic man through and through.

hes constantly doodling and journaling. johnny likes to write down what hes doing during the day to keep a clear head. also, why not use the time he has off to draw what he likes? neighbors may commission him for small works of art to keep around their house.

he also owns a podcast! while he doesnt have the largest fanbase, he, as mentioned, likes to just relax and go over what he did for the day. many would think he just likes to hear the sound of his voice, but in reality, its a way to calm down and clear his head!

hiking as well. he just has a lot of energy and needs to get it out one way or another — so he uses the extra energy to observe nature in a hike!

ghost: his hobbies have to be that of an old man.

he maintains a lovely garden! full of lush vegetables or colorful flowers, simon likes the idea of caring for something helpless. often times, he'll donate extra crops to the local businesses or markets; getting praised by the thankful women and men that know him by name.

birdwatching is something he picked up pretty early on. he believes it keeps his memory sharp and his observation skills and patience keen. maybe he has soap draw them for him, who knows!

him playing with dominoes is so funny to me. simon is bent over the table, stacking a line of dominoes with the patience of a saint. well, until he knocks the longest line over and swears under his breath.

gaz: he likes to be productive and keep busy!

he cooks, its a known fact! when he isnt busy with work or other hobbies, he'll happily scramble up a four course meal — kyle is always happy to share his cod fish with the shaky street cats outdoors.

kyle goes to sculpting and painting classes. hes no artist, but it keeps his attention. he really enjoys using his hands to make something nice, and doesnt mind the mess left behind.

beekeeping. pretty boy is not afraid of bees, and gets yummy honey, all from being calm and caring to the fuzzy bumblebees he nurtures in his backyard.

╰ price: he probably has generic man hobbies.

fishing is his go-to. he can name most fish he catches, and can get the fish off his hook in the matter of seconds. perhaps gets gaz to cook them? all i know is he definitely shows off to his neighbors.

price goes to his bookclub! full of confident women that happily engage in his opinion on their monthly book options. he actually gives very detailed opinions on parts he likes and gets really psychological.

pottery is only when he gets bored. despite the roughness of his hands, he can create really nice vases! keeps a couple at his home, and offers the rest to the ladies in the bookclub.

— 🐏

[dovabunny]

GhostSoap Concept - the MacTavish Bride Games

We can imagine a story where a princess' lesbian lover enters the tournament for her hand amongst the strongest men in the country, the shock that a woman beat all the knights to marry her love.

Now imagine the reverse.

Soap is the only son of Scottish nobility, his bloodline going back to the great clan kings. When the eldest son of the family turns 25, other families from all over send their daughters to compete for the honour to be his bride.

He hates it, feared since he was a wee lad.

The competition brings out the ugly side of people, his Grandpa laughing about stories of competitors who had hurt or even killed each other. It's a spectacle of something that's supposed to be out of love, something kind and gentle and beautiful. Not this.

Then he meets The Ghost. A stranger hired by Price, who manages his family's estate. The man barely talks, is always covered hear to toe, and doesn't give his name.

Ghost turns out to be the best gardener his father ever met, and is put in charge the vast gardens.

The head gardener is also given the garden cottage, as tradition over three centuries dictates. If Ghost isn't alone in the garden working, or tending to his bee hives amongst the flowers, he'll be in his cottage.

Simon grows curious.

Simon is huge, built for battle not tending to tulips and making honey. He can't help but sneak around the hiding spots he had as a kid to catch glimpses and spy on the man.

He learns that he talks to his bees, he uses the honey for tea, and likes to read at the kitchen window.

Soap thought the mask was because he was hiding, and maybe it is, but he also spots him late at night with a soft mask cooking in his kitchen, swaying to music.

Before he realizes it curiosity turns to obsession. He starts approaching the man, making light conversion at first...

When Ghost doesnt seem repulsed or angry, he visits more often, rejoicing when the conversation becomes two ways, when Ghost seems to wait for him, seems happy to have him join him as he works. When he makes Ghost laugh the first time...

... obsession turns to love.

A love that was gentle, beautiful, and kind. There was no fighting, anger, or cruelty. Ghost softens to him, asks about him, notices when he has a bad day, gives him little jars of honey, puts a white rose behind his ear with the thorns carefully clipped.

Then he turns 25.

He begs his father, let the barbaric MacTavish tradition end with him. His grandfather spits at his feet, his father calls him a disgrace to the family name and curses him for being his only son as he strikes him. His mother's eyes - the eyes of a victor - are cold.

He runs.

He runs through the midnight rain, lightning and memory guiding his feet to the door of the cottage hidden in deepest part of the gardens. Tears and rain in his eyes, he knocks.

Ghost frowns when he opens the old wooden door to the storm and first battering at it but immediately his eyes morph into concern and Soap falls into his arms.

Ghost brings him towels and dry clothes, wraps him up in front of the fire and brings him sweet honey tea.

Ghost sits closer than necessary, speaks softly, and Soap breaks at the kindness and gentleness he's never felt. He tells him everything, the competition, his bloodline, their bloodthirst. How he hates it.

Simon pulls him closer and listens. Soap tears up again, drunk on heartache when let's it slip that this - this moment here - this is what he wants, what he yearns for. A happy simple life with real love.

"...Love?" Ghost whispers in breathless disbelief into the space between them.

"...Love." Soap admits.

Ghost takes off his mask and Soap doesn't recoil at his scars. Soap kisses him and Ghost doesn't reject him for his desperation. Ghost takes off their clothes and Soap looks at him like he's beautiful.

Soap gives himself body and soul to Ghost, and Ghost returns his love.

The next morning Soap is gone. Price knew where to find him when his father demanded his son and heir be fetched. The competition was to begin that night, already beautiful eligible hopefuls were arriving at the manor house, their lashes flutter coy at him, their painted nails sharp, and their eyes deadly as they glare at each other.

Soap shuts down as Gaz, his childhood friend and assistant, dresses him and guides him through the motions of the day like he's a puppet. Hah. Maybe Price was right to call him a muppet.

That night is the celebration before the games, it starts with each lady introducing herself. He barely listens as they rattle off their names, own bloodlines, and empty complements.

"There is one late entry," Price announces and calls the final competitor to step forward.

A tall man, his strong figure finely dressed and styled, steps forward. Blond curls neatly tamed, face just as beautiful as it was that morning when the sunrise filtered into the room and kissed his pale skin and long lashes. His scars make him even more handsome, distinguished, fearless.

"Simon Riley."

His father recoils and jumps to his feet, "HOW DARE YOU! WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE TO MAKE A MOCKERY OF-"

Price interrupts. He had studied the rules and every record written of the MacTavish Bride games - there is no rule that the competition is only open to women.

"Bu- But he isn't of noble blood! Only women of distinguished families may enter!"

Simon steps forward, a document with a seal in hand.

"I am the last surviving member of the Riley family, from the O'Riley clan who united the clans of Scotland and Ireland and came over to help them resist the Roman invasion."

Everyone knew the name, the legend of their name in the history books, and the tragedy of how the entire family was slaughtered in their mansion over a decade ago.

His father is speechless. Price reminds him he has no right to deny Simon's participation based on the rules, especially not someone of his blood.

Soap steps forward, breaking the deafening silence in the hall as his footsteps are light but sure across the ancient stone floors. His eyes soft and smile bright in a way it hasn't been in years behind the walls of this house.

"Welcome to the games, Simon Riley."