#how long has it been named this and when was this sign put up??

[eyelessfaces]

ashes to ashes

firefighter!poe dameron x reader

it's been so long since I first announced this fic, I know. loosely inspired by this post. thank you to @ofstarsandvibranium for allowing me to write something based on the concept <3

summary: crawling as you witnessed the fire claiming half of your apartment, the only thing you could think about was how cinematic the whole scene was; half of your life burning down in the night, the blurry sight of pairs of chunky boots walking around your apartment and through the flames, the painful feeling of emptiness in your lungs as you rolled onto your back and fought to catch your breath.

just as you began to feel yourself go, an arm wrapped behind your head, holding it up gently.

warnings: depiction of a fire, post-trauma, brief mentions of ptsd, mentions of homelessness, questioning your whole goddamn life, angst, reader has hair

tags: f!reader, obvious firefighter au, slowburn... lol... burn. get it? because of the fire. anyways. mutual pining, strangers to friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, fluff, domestic fluff, kissing

word count: 8.3k

moodboard!

heat me up masterlist

masterlist | taglist | ao3

updates blog: @eyelessupdates

Chicago had the infamous reputation of having harshingly cold winters; that was the promise you had had when you moved there, and as soon as summer faded into fall and instead began to feel like winter, you quickly understood what it was all about, where the myth came from.

And it was okay, in your small apartment at least. 

It was okay whenever the main heating system of the building was working, because it wasn’t always. Surely a small detail your landlord had forgotten to tell you about when you signed the lease. 

Piling up blankets was fine, but that wasn’t the easiest way to stay warm and certainly not your idea of a good winter period.

It was okay again once you made the bright decision of buying a space heater to put in your living room, then it was not okay the night you woke up to the harsh and very distinct smell of smoke because your carpet had caught on fire.

Not exactly the kind of warmth you were expecting.

And it must have been the chemicals, because while down on the floor, crawling as you witnessed the fire claiming half of your apartment, the only thing you could think about was how cinematic the whole scene was; half of your life burning down in the night, the blurry sight of pairs of chunky boots walking around your apartment and through the flames, the painful feeling of emptiness in your lungs as you rolled onto your back and fought to catch your breath.

And just as you began to feel yourself go, an arm wrapped behind your head, holding it up gently.

“Hey, hey. What's your name?” the man shouted loud enough to cover the default slight muffle of his mask and the menacing creaking of flames claiming your space.

You replied in a drowsy, dazed mumble, and it felt like you were on autopilot mode, like your body was acting on his own, your mind not following – you're barely sure of the veracity of what you're saying, and your answer is punctuated by a painful cough.

“Alright, I’m Poe.” he affirmed with a nod before observing and evaluating the behavior of the flames in your apartment. He looked back down at you, his grip on you tightening. “I’m gonna get you out of here okay? Stay with me.” he demanded, cradling the back of your head as you struggled to get air back in your lungs.

You nodded hastily, shutting your eyes tight as he lifted you up, hoping it would make it all better; the reflection of flames in his mask was too painful to see, and you knew seeing all the debris across your apartment would make you faint if you didn’t because of the smoke.

You could only hear the crackling of flames and the distant wail of sirens filling the air as the firefighter stumbled out of there, his grip on you firm yet gentle. You fought to cling to consciousness, trying to focus on the rhythm of his steps as he guided you to safety out of the building.

Your coughs were painful, and the contrast of the fresh cold night air as you got carried outside hit you all at once.

“It's okay, you're out of here, you did amazing” you heard the firefighter say, his voice barely audible to you as you felt yourself go.

The last thing you remember from there is him calling for the medics as a black veil covers your eyes.

—

It takes no time for you to readjust your position in your hospital bed when one of the firefighters pushes the door to your room open.

“Can I?” he asks with a small smile, to which you approve. “How are you feeling?” the man asks as he steps in, carefully closing the door behind him.

“Could be better” you scoff, a coughing fit quickly interrupting you. You try to take a deep breath once you’re done, as the doctor advised you.

“Are you the one that got me out of my apartment?” you manage to ask quietly once you catch your breath, your voice rough.

“Yes” he declares as he approaches, and you squint and read what's written behind his turnout coat as he pulls a chair to sit beside your bed. “You got lucky the fire started in your living room” he continues as he sits down, his lips curling into a small, empathetic smile. He has a handsome face, you can tell now that you can truly and clearly look at the man that saved you. There’s a faint, small scar over his cheek, probably one he got on the field, you guess. His brown eyes are gentle as he looks at you, his gaze somehow consoling, reassuring in some kind of way.

You have no idea what time it is or how long you’ve been there, but he still has some dirt over his face and his dark curls are unkempt, so you figure it might not be that long after it all happened.

“Thank you, Lieutenant Dameron” you croak out, your voice gravelly from coughing so much, and you weakly smile, reaching for the glass of water at your bedside.

“It’s only my duty” he chuckles, revealing an objectively charming smile as he helps and hands you your glass. “The fire started from an electrical problem in your space heater that caused it to short circuit.”

You take a sip of water, taking the information into account. 

“Guess my idea of staying warm backfired,” you joke, with a demoralized smile.

He leans back in his chair, a weak, compassionate smile over his face. "It happens more often than you'd think. People underestimate the risks sometimes. Good thing you made it out okay."

You nod, putting the glass back where it was. “Yeah… I can’t believe half my place is gone.”

“It's tough, but, you know…” he sighs, running a hand through his tousled hair. “Things can be replaced. Lives can't.” His expression is serious but compassionate, and you appreciate his attempt at reassurance, even though the reality of losing most of your belongings and your place is still slowly, painfully sinking in. The room falls into a momentary deafening silence before he breaks it. “We managed to contain the fire, but your apartment took a hit. You'll get through this eventually, it’ll take some time but it's fixable” he declares in a tone both firm and comforting as he runs a hand over the light stubble on his cheeks.

You pinch your lips, your mouth abnormally dry though you just drank water. You shake your head, the knot tightening in your throat.

“Fuck, I have nowhere to go. I have no family here, I won’t get my apartment back before a while, hell, I don’t even know if I want it back” you sigh, reality suddenly hitting you right in the face. A chill runs down your spine as you say it, as if wording it out loud makes it become true.

The Lieutenant shifts in his chair again to lean closer, his hand coming to rest over your wrist.

“We can help you. I will help you.” he nods, searching your gaze. “You can stay in a hotel room while you get it all figured out,” he suggests, trying to cheer you up a bit, showing you the possibilities. “I know a nice hotel downtown, not too expensive, and I’m childhood friends with the manager’s son so you can say you’re coming from me” he smiles, trying to draw one out from you, though he knows damn well that his charming smile can’t do miracles in this job. “We have rehabilitation programs, people usually make it out okay, I don’t see why you wouldn’t. It takes some time, and you’ve gone through a trauma so it’s not easy at first, but I promise you it gets easier.”

You nod, pinching your lips in a small smile as you feel him slightly tighten his grip over your wrist. 

“It’s gonna be okay. I’ve seen people take this as a sign to begin again, an opportunity to start over” he nods again as you look up at him, his brown eyes glistening with a sense of hope that you want to believe in.

“I’ll probably do that. Thank you” you acquiesce, still not fully convinced, though his kindness and sympathy makes it all seem easier somehow. As you look at him, you can't help but wonder about the man behind the firefighter's gear, who he is beyond the guy that rescued you. He smiles gently, getting up from his seat. “And thank you for… You know, saving my life” you smile gratefully. “Really. I don't know how to repay you,” you say genuinely.

“Sure.” he waves off your gratitude. “No need. Just take care of yourself. And maybe consider a safer way to stay warm next time.” he jokes with a grin, but you know it’s lighthearted.

You manage a weak laugh, appreciating the lightness he brings to the whole situation. The gravity of it all is still there in the room and inside you, but the Lieutenant's presence and empathy makes it a bit more bearable.

“Alright, I better get going. If you ever need anything please don’t hesitate to stop by the fire station.” As he stands to leave, he glances back with a warm smile. “And take some rest. You'll be back on your feet soon.”

You nod, a polite and grateful smile over your face.

“Hey,” you call as he reaches for the door handle. He turns back to you, a wondering expression over his face. “What did you say your name was again, Lieutenant Dameron?” 

He smiles warmly, “Poe.” 

—

Poe’s eyes look up from the newspaper as his last name is called by one of his colleagues, followed by a quick gasped “someone for you” with a thumb directed towards the apparatus bay before said colleague leaves.

He tosses the newspaper onto the table his feet are propped onto before he gets up and beelines to the area he’s expected at, looking around for whoever is supposedly here for him until his gaze lays on you, a surprised smile growing over his face.

“Hey!” he exclaims, his voice echoing across the wide room. “How are you doing?” he asks as he walks over to you.

“Better than last time you saw me,” you start, smiling. “Still trying to figure everything out, it’s a bit exhausting but it has to be done, so” you shrug.

“Mhm,” he nods. “Well, as I said, if you need anything I’ll be happy to help” he suggests, a bright smile over his handsome face framed by neat, wavy dark curls. Now that his face is clean, you truly realize how pretty he looks, and his closely shaven face makes him look a bit younger, a bit more innocent than he did the last time you saw him.

“Thank you Lieutenant” you smile back.

“Oh– Please, call me Poe” he scoffs, waving you off. “You know that’s my name” he teases.

“Alright, Poe.” you oblige. “So, yeah, actually I came here to thank you again, and I brought this” you declare sheepishly, handing him a box wrapped in gift paper.

“Oh” his expression immediately turns into an apologetic one when he looks at what you have in hands. “That’s very kind of you but I can’t accept it,” he shakes his head with a skeptic smile. “Against policy.”

You sigh. “Yeah, I figured” you scoff, looking back at the box in your hands. “I wanted to try just in case” you shrug, defeated.

“Yeah sorry, legally and ethically we can’t accept those kinds of gifts.” he explains. “Someone once tried to write us a generous check, and as appealing as it seemed, we had to turn it down” he chuckles, hands coming to rest over his hips. 

“Wow.” you laugh. “Some people are really grateful huh?”

“I guess” he smiles. “And he’d still insist after I told him I could get fired for accepting the check.” 

“Fired?” you ask. 

“Yeah, money’s nice but I could get fired if they find out” Poe nods.

“Fired?” you repeat, raising an eyebrow as a treacherous small smile unwillingly grows over your face.

“Yeah– Oh,” he huffs out a small laugh, before he eventually bursts out into chuckles. “Okay, alright, I get it” he nods, a playful, silly smile over his face. “Yeah, fired, unfortunate for a firefighter, right?” he scoffs, the corner of his eyes softly crinkling as he laughs.

“You get it” you laugh, unable to repress it when he wipes a hand over his face. “Sorry, this is lame.” 

“No, no, I actually never heard this one before–” 

The loud alarm sound cuts him off and resonates through the large room, announcing the units needed for an intervention. “Hah, I’m sorry, I gotta go” he says as you witness his squad rushing to the apparatus bay. “I’ll catch you later maybe, alright?”

“Sure, go do your thing” you pinch a smile, and he gives you back a bright one that makes your stomach flutter and a quick wave before jogging to the truck to quickly change into his intervention clothes.

—

The next time you come back to the station, you make sure it’s with a gift you’re certain he can accept. His face lights up when he sees you coming in, a warm smile plastered over his face.

You see the genuine appreciation in his eyes; even though you had made a good batch, your plate of cookies doesn’t survive for long, Poe’s squad and himself making a feast off of it.

“These are really good.” one of his colleagues babbles, mouth still full of his latest victim. A few poor crumbs are all that’s left off your plate. You smile.

“I’ll take your word for it” you chuckle, reaching to retrieve your empty plate.

“Come on guys, you didn’t even leave her one” Poe reproaches as he watches over you putting back the plastic film to cover the plate.

“You ate most of these Dameron,” another guy of the squad throws accusingly, making the Lieutenant scoff and hold his hands up in surrender. “Okay, alright, sorry” he nods. “They are really good.” he says pointing at you. “Were,” he corrects himself, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Sorry”

“That’s alright, those were for you” you immediately retort with a dismissive wave of your hand. Poe shoots you a sweet smile that you mirror before your gaze shifts to the clock on the wall to overlook the heat rising to your cheeks. “Well, you're good company but I gotta go” you announce as you stand from your seat, giving him a small smile.

“Thank you for the cookies” one of the firefighters calls out.

“Yeah. You really didn’t have to, thank you again” Poe nods as he follows you, a hand over your shoulder. You nod, a small, sheepish smile over your face at the physical contact. “Really, they’re the best cookies I’ve ever eaten, that's why I gobbled them like a glutton. Sorry again for not letting you have one. Is that your job? Are you like a pastry chef?” he asks with genuine curiosity, facing you as you both stop in your steps.

“Nah, just a hobby,” you affirm with a shake of your head and a wide smile that you can’t seem to repress. “But I’ll take the compliment. And you know, I had to go and borrow my friends’ kitchen to make those cookies, so it was basically teamwork”

“Well, gotta thank those friends too then” he grins. “No but really, they were so good. I’d pay for that” he admits as he tilts his head towards you, an admirative glint in his eyes. 

“Well good, because I need money to get my shit together” you joke. Poe smiles at your joke though it shifts into a genuine empathetic grin that you find adorable. You glance back at the clock when you start to feel the blush creep up your cheeks. “Yeah, time to make money, I’m gonna be late to work” you sigh softly.

“Good luck”

“I’m not the one with a high risk job” you scoff. 

He grins and leads you back outside. “You know, we sometimes host charity events here. You could bring some cookies, I guarantee you you could raise a hell lot of money from that. Think about it. We’d let you use the oven here” he grins.

You nod, appreciating the idea. Plus, it’s a reason and occasion to see him again. 

“I will.”

Poe leans against the wall of the firehouse front wall, glancing at you until you're out of sight. He sighs softly when he goes back inside and notices your jacket on the chair.

—

It’s been seven hours; you’re not coming back for it.

His fingers mindlessly run back and forth over the seams of your jacket, his gaze planted towards the pile of paperwork over his desk, waiting to be filled and sent to his superiors.

A couple knocks at his doorframe tear him out of his reverie, eyes darting to Rey standing at the threshold of his office. He greets her with a faint smile as his chair turns to face her, and she frowns as she crosses her arms and leans her side against the doorframe.

“Been watching you, what's wrong?” she asks throwing her chin towards him, and he reacts with a huff from his nose and a shrug. The downside of having a glass windowed office with broken blinds.

“What do you mean what’s wrong” he nonchalantly asks, his voice low, putting your jacket down over his desk.

“You’re leaving this pile of paperwork to rot” she points out, looking at the sheets messily laid out over his desk.

He scoffs, like what she’s saying is complete nonsense. “You know I hate paperwork.”

He does, she knows that, but he hates it so much that he usually does it as soon as he gets it to be over with it, and to avoid procrastinating the daunting task. “I know you do but you usually sit and do it. Here you sat and didn’t do anything” she declares as she watches him slightly turn back and forth in his desk chair. “That’s not like you. You usually can’t stop working one way or another, can’t rest for five minutes.”

“Yeah,” he sighs softly, adjusting his position in his chair.

“This is not me scolding you for taking a breath for once. This is me being worried” she makes clear. Poe doesn’t say anything in return, the blank expression over his face attesting of his lack of concentration. Rey bites down onto her bottom lip, pondering what she could do or say to help her friend out. It’s not like Poe to act so closed off, so quiet, like an empty shell. 

“Is that a new jacket?” she asks, hoping to lift the tension.

“No, not mine” he says as he reaches over to the desk to have the piece of clothing in hands again. “It’s from…” he pauses. “The cookies feast this morning, she left and forgot it”

“Oh”

“I gotta find a way to give it back to her.” he declares mechanically before muttering, “But I don’t know where to find her”

“Well,” Rey lightly clears her throat. “With some luck she will notice soon enough and she’ll come back for it” she shrugs.

“It’s been seven hours”

“People that just lost their place are busy trying to sort things out Poe” she shrugs. “It’s winter and she probably doesn’t have much clothing left. She’ll come back for it”

“It might happen when I’m off shift” Poe mumbles absent-mindedly. 

“So what? Just leave it somewhere everyone can find it, another team will give it to her” Poe closes his eyes and shakes his head, sighing in defeat, and Rey scoffs at the obviousness of it all. Poe is smarter than that, he’s a lieutenant for a reason; something’s not right.

“Oh Poe” Rey scoffs, a scoff of disbelief. She stares at him as he rubs a hand over his eyes, then runs it through his hair. “This is what it's all about isn’t it?” she asks rhetorically, as she already knows it is. “My god… You’re into her” she mutters like she doesn’t believe it.

“Yeah,” he chuckles, admitting it like he’s guilty of something shameful or immoral; but it almost is, in this job. This kind of thing is not supposed to happen, you’re not supposed to fall for a victim. It’s supposed to be a come and go without looking back.

“Look, I’m not opposed to you shooting your shot but–” she halts mid-sentence; she tries to find the right words to say the right thing. “Be careful. You know it’s a touchy subject in our jobs” she pinches her lips in a small, slightly skeptic smile. “Overstepping and everything.” she adds.

“I know” Poe blinks, looking down at your jacket. “I’ll sort this out.”

— 

To be fair, he feels stupid for not thinking about the hotel sooner when he was the one to suggest this place for you to stay at. 

The end of a shift has never felt so long; when he usually finds stuff to do to remain occupied when there’s no intervention, today his mind couldn’t stay off of you. A shift with no major intervention was awfully long already, but it seemed to be so much slower as he looked forward to seeing you.

His knuckles hit the surface of your assigned room in a couple knocks, and your confused expression turns to a bright smile when your door opens to him. His face and ears are slightly flushed from the cold, his dark curls coming out of his beanie, nicely framing his face. “I usually go home and catch up on the sleep I didn't get during my shift but it's cold out there and I figured you wouldn't have brought back a lot of clothes here with you, so I think you'd make good use of this” he smiles, presenting to you your own jacket. 

“Oh” you reply, trying to ignore the way your heart speeds up in your chest, staring at your jacket neatly folded in his hands as he hands it to you. “Thank you,” you sigh, feeling stupid that you managed to forget it at the firehouse.

He smiles. “Of course.” There’s a brief pause as you stand there, and you look back inside your room, at the mess of cardboard boxes filled with the life you’re actively trying to piece back together. You want to tell him to get inside, but you also need to work on that mess of belongings. You hesitate, wondering what to say when he speaks first. “You need help with that?” he asks, nodding towards the room.

“Uh, yeah,” you admit, huffing out a breath you didn't even realize you were holding. “I took your advice and decided to start over by sorting out and giving away or selling stuff I don’t need anymore but there’s a lot. I never realized how much stuff I had in my possession until now” you chuckle. “But I’ll manage. You don’t have to worry. You’ve had a long shift, you should catch up on your sleep” you grin.

He waves a hand dismissively, smirking. “Oh, I’m fine. We take turns sleeping during the shift. You know, as long as you wake up when the alarm goes off…”

The daunting task seems to get so much quicker and easier now that Poe is here to help. Surprisingly enough, it even gets pleasant as you talk and laugh about anything and everything, as he intently listens to you as you reveal stories about the trinkets you discover again. Poe has this natural ability to make you feel like whatever you’re talking about is the most interesting thing in the world.

After a good hour and a half of reorganizing and labeling boxes of what you’re keeping and what you’re getting rid of, you’re finally done and it’s time for him to go. You can’t ignore the slight feeling of disappointment as you watch him put his jacket back on.

“Hey uh,” he trails off, grabbing his beanie resting on the bed. “Technically I’m off work and you’re not a victim anymore so,” he rubs the back of his neck, his dark curls falling slightly into his eyes as he looks at you with a grin. “Would you like to go for a drink or something sometime that week?” Poe intently awaits your response; maybe he’s making a mistake, maybe he’s overstepping. 

You can’t repress the smile that grows over your face, the feeling of delight that fills you at the prospect of seeing him again. “Sure,” you nod. “I’d love to”

Your heart leaps inside your chest as your hands brush when you hand him your phone so he can put his number in, and he feels just the same when he pushes his apartment door to a text from you that reads, 

“thank you for today. I look forward to seeing you again :)”

He can’t help the foolish smile beaming over his face.

—

There’s not much left of your belongings after you give them out to charity and after hours spent throughout multiple days waiting for strangers to pick up the different things they bought from you. 

Some part of you assumes that giving up on your life in Chicago would be easier, that moving states and going back to your family would be more reasonable, until you get back onto your feet at least. 

But you hate it, hate the thought of giving it all up just because your stupid space heater short circuited. 

And maybe it's also because something is holding you back.

You’re at work when a text appears onto your phone screen, forcing you to drop everything you’re doing when you see it’s from Poe. Your heart races inside your chest when you open the conversation and read the message. “hey! still on board to hang out?”

Your fingers hover over the keyboard, not sure about which way you should say yes. You settle on “absolutely” and press send.

You try to go back to work while you wait for his response, but the task is compromised because even though you have your ringtone on, you can’t help but check your phone every twenty seconds.

Your phone rings again after what feels like an eternity though in reality, it’s only been two minutes.

“great. I was thinking about going to a bar downtown” 

Another message pops up.

“is it okay if I pick you up at the hotel at 7?”

You take a glance at the time displayed on your computer screen and sigh softly before you reply. “I’m doing extra hours so I get out at 7 :( and I need time to get ready and look somewhat presentable“

Poe’s text comes almost instantly. “hey, no pressure. I’m sure you look just fine”

A foolish smile grows onto your face, and you’re glad he’s not here to see it. 

Another message pops onto the screen.

“I can pick you up at 8 or later if you prefer. or I can pick you up straight out of work at 7 if it makes it easier for you”

You sit and think about it for a moment. It would make it easier for you. You could avoid an extra ride to the hotel.

“I think it does”

You text him the address to your workplace, and the next time you use the office bathroom, you take a moment to make sure you look okay.

The bar is dimly lit by fairy lights strewn all across the ceiling and walls. It casts a soft light over Poe’s face that allows you to admire the faint, dark stubble that is back onto his face again, and you can’t help but look at his teeth when he talks to you; you remember the way they look when he laughs, and the thought makes your stomach flutter and makes you feel like a creep at the same time.

“So, extra hours?” he asks, tearing you out of your reverie before he takes a sip of his half full glass of pina colada. You wince softly. 

“I'm quickly starting to run out of money. You know how insurances are” he raises his eyebrows and tilts his head to the side in agreement. “And I mean, I’m trying to save up because I don’t think I want to go back to my apartment” you explain, an uneasy feeling running through you the moment you start to picture your apartment again, the way it was the last time you had seen it. 

“Yeah, it’s understandable. It’s something we often see.” Poe nods.

“Most people prefer moving out instead of trying to rebuild their home. Too much trauma attached to the place” he affirms, pinching his lips in an empathetic smile.

“Yeah,” you trail off, nervously fiddling with your glass. “And I can’t stay in that hotel room forever. Some friends offered me to stay over at theirs so I’m gonna crash wherever I can until I get back on my feet” 

Poe nods, intently watching you as he swallows another sip of his cocktail before speaking. “Well, you can stay at my place too if you need somewhere to go.” he offers in earnest.

You shake your head, a soft chuckle escaping you. “Poe it’s– you don’t have to” 

“No, no, it’s alright” he insists. “Plus, my apartment is empty for twenty four hours when I’m on shift, so you can take advantage of that”

“This is very kind of you but–” you pause, not certain what you want to say. “We met what, three weeks ago, and you’re willing to let me stay at your place?”

He shrugs, an amused smile over his face. “You made me cookies. You’re trustworthy”

You laugh wholeheartedly, and the sight brings a wide smile to his face. 

“Okay, well, thank you” you huff out, and he grins before taking a sip of his drink. “I won’t bother you much, I’m working extra hours anyways.” 

“Oh and also, you’ll have to let me cook for you when you’re there” 

He raises his hands in fake surrender, a content expression over his face. “If you insist”

—

You’ve established some kind of routine based on a rotation; half a week at someone’s place, the other half at someone else’s. That way, weeks seem to go by quite fast.

Being at work is the only sense of normalcy you can find since those past few months; it’s pretty depressing when you think about it, but it might also be a good thing considering how much time you have to spend at the office doing extra hours just to gather enough money to try find that sense of normalcy back in your life.

You sigh softly as you knock at Poe’s door and set down your suitcase of necessities while you wait for him to answer; you’re endlessly thankful for your friends allowing you to leave your boxes of belongings in their home office instead of having to haul them around or pay for storage. 

“Hey you” Poe greets when he opens the door, a dishcloth in hand as he wipes them clean. You smile at the sight of him wearing an olive green apron, and you walk in when he makes way for you to. You look around the wide place that actually resembles a loft, the place dimly lit and filled with the smell of food cooking, and just that scent is enough for you to be striked with a stomach rumble. 

“Smells good” you affirm, forcing a small smile through your tiredness. “I was the one supposed to cook though, remember?”

“It’s your first time at my place, I have to be a good host” he huffs out, hands placed at his hips. “And I wanted to try this new recipe” he declares, motioning for you to follow him.

You follow his steps, acknowledging the space around you. “Actually it's perfect cause I'm exhausted” you admit in a small sigh.

“Good thing I planned on pampering you tonight then” he grins. 

He was in no way lying about that. 

Poe pulls your chair for you like a gentleman and makes you sit down, absolutely refusing you help him set the table or help him in any other way. 

He finally sits down in front of you after serving your plates and pouring you something to drink, wishing you bon appetit before you both start to eat. 

You listen attentively as he tells you about the interventions of his past few shifts, taking your sweet time to savor his dish from how good it is; you wouldn’t have suspected him to be that good of a cook.

Then suddenly, Poe trails off, his face dropping when he sees you're crying. “Hey,” he calls softly, getting up from his seat to join you. “What’s wrong?” he kneels down in front of you, his gaze raking over your face painted in tears.

“This is simultaneously the best and worst I've felt in months” you chuckle through quiet sobs, nervously fiddling with the hem of your shirt. “And I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing, I have no idea what I should do” you shake your head. Poe watches you intently while you try to avoid looking at him, afraid of what he could think. You’re just the poor girl he saved that lost everything, after all. “Sorry, I don’t know why it’s all coming out now. I’m not even drunk” you apologize, drying your tears with the back of your hand. “And I know some people you rescue have it so much harder than me, but even this, somehow… It feels insurmountable” 

“Hey,” he takes your hand in both of his, stopping you from tearing at the loose seams of your shirt. You feel stupid for breaking down like this in front of him, feel stupid for feeling so lost. “Just because people go through worse doesn’t mean your struggles are not legitimate” he affirms, one of his hands coming to rest over your arm. His other hand soothingly rubs the back of yours, and your tears-filled eyes finally meet his.

“Having to rebuild a life from scratch is a pretty tough thing, but I promise you it eventually gets better” he nods. “And you’re doing great so far. You’re motivated. It's a good thing. There isn't much you can do but wait until it gets better”

His eyes are gentle, his touch soft, and something inside you slowly starts to ease. 

You want to believe it, you want to believe it’s going to get easier, but right now, you can’t seem to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

“I know. But– I’ve been thinking about leaving Chicago.” you admit in a mutter. It hurts to say it, hurts to picture it, but deep down you know it’s probably the solution and the right decision.

“Oh– okay,” he mumbles softly, his voice dropping slightly. You look him in the eyes, before looking down at your lap again, a weak, saddened smile tugging at your lips.

“What you said about starting over… Maybe this is it. Maybe that’s what I need. There’s not much left here for me” you say, swallowing a sob. 

The urge to burst in tears gets violent again, and just like he can sense it, Poe squeezes your hand and gets you onto your feet so you can crash into him and break into sobs while he wraps his arms around you.

— 

You shift in your sleep and your mind screams at you to wake up; something feels off. The bed is too unfamiliar, too big, too comfortable. 

Because you’ve never been there before. 

It somehow simultaneously takes you ages and no time for you to realize you’re in Poe’s bed. 

You sit up, rubbing the sleep off your eyes, pushing the blanket away. You don’t remember coming to bed.

The last thing you remember is talking and watching a few The Office episodes with Poe on his couch, wrapped in one of his blankets. 

You hear the faint clinking of dishes in the kitchen, and you push yourself out of bed to go there. The wide space is filled with the smell of coffee and Poe is standing by the stove, flipping pancakes, dressed in the same clothes as last night, just like you are. He turns when he hears your footsteps, and gives you that easy smile that makes your stomach flutter.

“Morning,” he greets you, his voice warm. “Got your beauty sleep?”

You chuckle, rubbing your face. “Yeah, about that, you didn’t have to leave me your bedroom.”

Poe shrugs, turning to flip another pancake. “C’mon, it’s fine. It was part of my plan already anyway.”

You scoff and join him, leaning against the counter beside him. “I was already on the couch, I bet it would have been easier to leave me here than to drag me to your bed”

“You deserved a better night's sleep after the day you had.” he turns the stove off and looks at you. “I carried you out of a building in fire, remember? This was nothing” he smiles softly, handing you the plate of pancakes. You take it, and he gently rests a hand over your shoulder as he walks past you to pour you both a cup of coffee and hand one to you. "Besides, you’ve been through enough. A comfy bed is the least I can do sweetheart”

You take a sip of your coffee, savoring its warmth, but his words cut deeper than they probably should. There’s something so natural about the way he’s taken you into his space, about the way he looks out for you. 

It’s comforting, and maybe that’s what scares you the most. 

You haven’t brought last night’s conversation up again, and neither has he, but you can feel it there between the two of you. 

The possibility of leaving Chicago feels more real every time you think about it, and yet, being here with Poe makes the idea of leaving seem that much harder.

—

Poe is seated at his desk, locked in onto a pile of paperwork when a soft knock sounds from the doorframe. 

He glances up and it's Snap leaning casually against the door with a mischievous grin. 

"Your girlfriend’s here," Snap mouths teasingly as he points behind him; Poe rolls his eyes but can't help the small smile that tugs at his lips.

Snap steps aside, making room for you to enter the room. You flash him a quick, grateful smile before he leaves and before you step inside the office. Poe rises from his seat to greet you with a warm hug, one that feels natural after how close you've grown those past few weeks. The installed routine of crashing at his place every other week has deepened your relationship, turning it into something that feels comfortable, familiar.

“How’s your day going?” you ask, leaning against the wall.

“Busy, but nothing I can’t handle,” Poe replies, shrugging with a grin. “How about you? What brings you here? Missed me?” he grins playfully, and it widens when you huff out a laugh.

“I actually came to tell you some good news.” you take a deep breath, a mix of excitement and nervousness coursing through you. “I got an update about my apartment.”

Poe’s eyebrows lift in curiosity as he steps a little closer. “Oh? What’s going on?”

You can’t help but smile. “Since it’s uninhabitable for now, and because I’m not responsible for the fire, I’m getting my deposit back– and insurance is going to cover a pretty decent amount.”

Poe’s face breaks into a wide grin. “See? I told you so!” he says, his voice full of genuine happiness, as his hand rests lightly over your arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. There’s relief in his tone too as things are finally looking up for you.

You pause for a moment  before adding, “So…” you grin, tentatively. “I’ve decided to stay in Chicago.” 

Poe’s eyes light up at the news. “Really?” he asks, his voice a little breathless, as if he can’t believe what he’s hearing.

“Yeah,” you huff out a small laugh, nodding. “Actually, I came here because I was in the neighborhood looking at an apartment. It’s a bit cramped, but it’s all I can afford right now. And, hey, it’s better than nothing.” you shrug. “And… it’s like a seven-minute walk to the firehouse,” you add with a grin.

Poe smirks, “So, you’re gonna bring me cookies every day?”

“Obviously,” you laugh.

“I’m gonna have to exercise at least twice as much because of you.” he grins, placing a quick affectionate kiss on your cheek. Without thinking, you wrap your arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug.

“Thank you, Poe,” you murmur softly, your voice filled with gratitude. “For everything you’ve done for me.”

He hugs you back and holds you tight for a moment longer, the embrace a silent acknowledgment of everything you’ve been through together, how far you've come since you met– this could have happened in a better context but somehow, some part of you is glad it had to be him you stumbled onto.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he says, pulling back just enough to look at you. “You’re strong. You’ve been handling this like a champ.” he nods with a proud smile.

You smile back, still holding onto him. "I couldn't have done it without you."

Poe chuckles softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. His eyes rake over your face, from your eyes down to your mouth before he stops lingering and pulls away. "Come on," he says, stepping back and motioning for you to follow him. "I’m gonna introduce you to everyone."

The sound of chatter and laughter fills the room where the rest of the crew is gathered. Poe introduces you to his colleagues and friends, and as you chat with everyone, you feel a sense of belonging and acceptance like you’ve known them for ages.

—

The new year passes around and January takes place quicker than you realize; sleeping on your friends couches is starting to take a toll on your back, so you’re barely able to keep a facade and hide your excitement when you finally get the keys to your apartment and when Poe and your friend Jay haul your brand new sofa bed up the narrow stairwell of the building.

“Where is it going?” Jay asks, short of breath after struggling to angle the piece of furniture to fit your doorframe. 

“Right there,” you point, and your other friends quickly push the cardboard boxes aside to make way for Jay and Poe as they transport and set the sofa down.

It’s the first time in months that things feel real, that you feel like you’re moving forward again. The apartment is small – really small – but it's yours and that fact alone is enough to make you feel relieved.

Your cramped space is a mess of half-unpacked boxes, random piles of bubble wrap, and stacks of furniture pieces waiting to be assembled. 

Your friends each have their own tasks, helping in various ways; Olivia starts assembling your coffee table, grumbling under her breath about missing screws, while Poe puts together your dining table with a look of concentration.

You're tucked away in a corner, hunched over a cardboard box labeled kitchen, sorting through utensils and plates. Your friend Sam joins you, taking out mugs and setting them on the counter beside you. She looks over at Poe, who’s working on screwing a table leg into place with the help of Mike, then she leans in a little closer to you, her voice lowering in that teasing way she does when she’s trying to stir something up.

“Your firefighter boyfriend is cute,” she grins. Your grip instinctively tightens on the pile of plates you’re holding, afraid you’re going to drop it at any moment.

“He's not– we're friends” you scoff, trying to play off though you can’t deny your heart rate going up. 

Sam gives you a knowing look, raising her eyebrows dramatically. "Oh, come on. You can’t tell me there isn’t something there. I’ve seen the way you look at each other."

You feel your cheeks heat up instantly, a wave of nervousness rising in your chest even though you can’t really bring yourself to argue. Poe and you– there’s always been something there, you know that, it's painfully obvious. But putting it into words, admitting it out loud? 

"I don’t know," you finally say, your voice quieter now. "I mean, yeah, he’s amazing. I just… it’s complicated. I haven't really had the time to think about it that way” you shrug, taking a glance at him. 

"Look, I’m just saying, if you’re not interested, maybe I’ll ask him out." she shrugs nonchalantly though her grin attests of her playful tone.

"Very funny, Sam."

She chuckles as she pats your arm, obviously enjoying your flustered reaction. "Just think about it. You two have that vibe, you know?” she insists, putting away the cardboard box she’s unloading now that it’s empty. “Whenever you're ready to admit it, just know I'm rooting for you."

You roll your eyes, though the smile on your face betrays you. 

You hadn’t allowed yourself to think too deeply about it– about him. It had been much easier to push that aside and focus on practical things, like getting through each day, finding a place to live, and piecing your life back together.

—

Your apartment empties after getting filled and reaching a state that starts to make it feel like a home; your friends progressively leave until Jay and Sam are the last to, each giving you a hug at the door and congratulating you on the new place.

"You owe us dinner for all this labor," Sam jokes as she steps out, winking at you as she heads down the stairs. You roll your eyes with a smile, watching her go before closing the door behind them.

A small sigh leaves you when you turn back and look around the place that is significantly quieter now. Poe is still sitting on the floor, carefully tightening one last screw to your dining table to make sure it’s secured. “Okay,” he groans softly as he stands up, wiping his hands over his jeans. “Should be good”

“Thank you” you say softly, standing against the counter.

He gives you a modest shrug as he puts the screwdriver down on the table. “It’s nothing.” he smiles, stepping closer until he’s standing beside you, his shoulder brushing yours. 

You both proudly admire the place you have spent the last few hours furnishing – it’s small, but it’s just enough for you alone there, and at least now you won’t have to rely on a space heater to survive Chicago’s cold.

You feel Poe look at you, truly look at you, feel the warmth of his gaze lingering over you. You feel it so clearly that it makes you blatantly aware of how close you are, how intimate it feels to be here, in your apartment, alone with him.

You glance over at him and he smiles, his expression softening as his hand reaches out, brushing a stray strand of your hair away from your face; the touch is so tender that it sends a shiver through your spine. “I’m glad you decided to stay.” 

His confession makes your heart flutter, and a tired smile tugs at your lips. “I am too.” you admit, fully turning to him. “And thank you again. Not just for this. For everything”

He shrugs, his face twisting in a grimace. “You’d have managed just fine, even without me”

You tilt your head to the side in disagreement. “I would have been roasted chicken without you, if you remember. So thank you. I mean it” 

He breaks into a laugh, rich and warm, shaking his head. His laughter is so contagious you can’t help the wide smile that grows onto your face. “Okay, maybe I saved you once. But, anytime,” he nods, his voice softer now, his thumb brushing softly against your cheek. "You know that, right?" 

You find yourself nodding, scarily aware of how fast your heart is pumping inside your ribcage. You swallow as his gentle eyes rake over your face, your own gaze flickering between his lips and his eyes. 

“I know,” you whisper, your breath cutting short like you’re out of air. Somehow, all nervousness escapes you when his fingers drift to gently grasp your chin, ever so slightly angling it towards him.

He hesitates for a second, like he’s giving you the option to pull away if you wanted to; you don’t, there’s nothing you’ve been wanting more since you met him.

You lean in, meeting him halfway as his lips press softly against yours, tentatively. Your hands instinctively find their way to rest over his chest, and you sigh into the kiss when you feel the fast beating of his heart under your palm, the comforting warmth of him beneath your fingers. 

It’s not rushed or hurried – it’s like this action is a quiet, mutual acknowledgment of everything that has been left unsaid between the both of you for the past few weeks– hell, months.

The drunken smile over his lips as he pulls away has you going for another kiss; he pulls you even closer, his hands finding your hips, gently resting there. 

His forehead rests against yours when your lips grow apart, your arms wrapping around his neck when he nuzzles your cheek. “I should get going,” he whispers reluctantly, his hands still on your hips.

There’s a moment of silence– You swear you could almost hear the snow falling outside. “Really?” you finally ask, your voice teasing.

“Nah” he murmurs, and you both laugh softly as he pulls you closer, his arms fully wrapping around you.

—

please note that I'm planning on extending this universe just because I love it so much, I love them so much and I had so much fun writing this, so there will be more stuff linked to this one shot and you can request drabbles, headcanons or whatever you'd like about this AU!

people that wanted to be tagged in this (it was so long ago you probably forgot about this, sorry): @steven-grants-world @faretheeoscar @minigirl87 @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @spectorslut

@lunar-ghoulie @ineffablewifes @whatthefishh @dameronshandholder @thatwonderouswoman

poe dameron taglist:

@lockleysgrl @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @anightshift @campingwiththecharmings

@mintgreen24 @spider-starry @jakecockley @cocodiem  @friedwings

@luxisluxurious @stvnnie @dowbastan @il0vebeingdelulu @hammerhead96

@unear7hly @pigeonmama

[petertingle-yipyip]

STRANGER (vii) - KAZ BREKKER

tags: @beekeepingageissome @shadowzena43 @nikfigueiredo @mp-littlebit @starmansirius @hadesnumber1daughter @directioner5life @strvngestark @hostilityghost @ofmenanduhhhwellmen // previously // next

Pairing: Kaz x Davina Rollins (enemies to lovers)

Word Count: 6,331

Summary: Davina and her Snakes take a chance on a job that seems simple enough. But being the Princess of the Barrel is never simple. At least there’s an ally of sorts.

You didn’t know how long you avoided the Dregs after those few days. You didn’t step foot in the Crow Club. You didn’t even look at the building. You took to entering the Poisoned Rook from a side door just so you didn’t have to see it.

You ignored the feeling of being watched from the shadows, didn’t look up to check rooftops. There was no mistaking the feeling of the Wraith watching, but you wouldn’t give in and acknowledge it. Instead, you kept your hood up and your head down.

You didn’t even reach out to the Dregs when you found the envelope on your desk at the Rook. Melli said someone brought it to the doorman and asked that it got to you, but she didn’t see who it was and they didn’t give a name.

You recognized the handwriting easily enough, so when you opened it and counted 800 kruge, you felt a new twist in your stomach. Kaz took care of Jesper’s debt. You didn’t know if it was for your benefit or Jesper’s, the former was more likely, but you didn’t care to ask. A debt paid was a debt paid, no matter where the kruge came from.

So you found Jesper’s debt form, signed it as paid, and filed it away. The deal was the deal, and you didn’t need to revisit it.

You were cleaning up some things in your office before you intended on leaving. Kol was on the door - there seemed to be less ruckus when he was - and you were waiting for Melli to arrive to switch charge. When she finally entered, her cheeks were flush as if she’d been running and her eyes were alight with excitement.

“You look like you enjoyed a good tumble.” You laughed as you pulled your cloak off the back of your chair.

“No, no.” She waved you off, though her smile stayed. “I got a tip on a job.”

Your brows raised. “Tell me.”

“It’s some sculpture, fits on a desk or an end table.” She nodded, creating a vague sized box with her hands. “He said it was taken and sold to a Merchant.”

“What kind of statue? Valuable?” Maybe you’d lift it and sell it on your own.

“Seems more sentimental than anything. He said it was from some Grisha tale. Some legendary Bonesmith?” She shrugged. “But it’s a three piece figure. A stag, some sea whip and a bird.”

“Go get Kol. Have Nik take over the door.”

She was gone in a flash so you sat back in your chair while you waited. You blew out a sigh as you dropped down. So much for leaving early. Melli returns quickly with Kol in tow and shuts the door.

“Kol, what do you know of the Bonesmith?” You asked. If there was no truth to the alleged Grisha tale, then there was no point pursuing the job at all.

“The Bonesmith?” He repeated. “He’s an old legend, a Saint. Sankta Ilya in Chains. He was Materialki but his story says he put a child back together that was cut in half.”

“What connection does he have to a stag, a sea whip, and a bird?”

“It’s said that he created three amplifiers in those forms. Why?”

You nodded to Melli.

Eagerly, she began to explain. “A man, said he’s Ravkan and was in some sort of robes, said that Karl Dryden has taken possession of a statue that belongs in one of the Churches. It’s of a stag, sea whip, and bird.”

“Dryden cares for Grisha legend?” Your brows raised.

“I doubt it.” She shook her head. “Dryden’s new to the Council so he may just have been looking for something old and pretty.”

She patted her pockets to search and pulled a paper out of her coat. She unfolded it and handed it to you.

You motioned Kol closer.

“That’s Morozova’s Stag.” He pointed to the dear in the center, sporting massive and intricate antlers. “The sea whip, Rusalye.” He traced the length of the snakelike creature around the stag’s feet. “And the firebird.” He tapped the large bird above the others.

“So we’re being asked to nab a potentially very old and potentially very delicate depiction of Grisha legend.” You put the paper down. “How much?”

“Ten thousand kruge.” Melli answered, and the excitement she’s been jittering with now made sense.

“A Ravkan monk has ten thousand sitting around?”

“I saw it myself.” She nodded enthusiastically.

“And it’s all real?”

“Sankta Ilya’s power is the greatest ever known to Grisha, and some churches receive more tithe than others.” Kol added. “And the currency conversion may have helped. But for all we know, that church drained its coffers to get that statue back.”

“Isn’t Ravka broke?” You turned to him. “I’ve heard rumors of defaulting on the loans from Kerch.”

Kol wrinkled his nose and waved a hand. You almost laughed.

“We’d need intel on where Dryden keeps it.” You said pointedly to Melli. “And we’ll need the layout of his house, security measures, occupants.”

“I can scout tonight.”

“It needs to be a small crew. Who would you take?”

“Us.” Melli gestured to the three people in the room. “Would you want anyone else?”

“No…” You looked between your friends. “No, this is fine. I’ll look into floor plans of the Dryden estate. We move on this tomorrow night. The sooner we do this, the less likely someone else can take it out from under us.”

“Someone has to send word to the Ravkan that we’ll do it.” Melli added.

“I’ll go.” Kol offered.

“Melli, bring paper. I want you to note what you can and we’ll compare it to what I can gather.”

“Who are you going to?”

“Do you really need to ask that? There’s one man in the Barrel that knows everything.”

“Be careful going back there.” Kol said earnestly and you nodded. He returned the gesture before turning to Melli. “Tell me what he looked like.” 

You shooed the two away while they discussed the man’s appearance. You waited a moment, looking down at the drawing, and sighed. There was only one person that could get you the plans of the Dryden estate that night, otherwise you’d have to wait till the morning. You cursed quietly and reached for the envelope of 800 kruge that you had shoved to the back of a drawer.

You hid it in the main pocket of your cloak and you fit it in place around your shoulders. You pulled your hood up and headed to the one place you dreaded, that you hated arguably more than the Emerald Palace.

The Crow Club.

Luckily for you, Jesper was manning the door. He beamed at your approach and nodded, tipping his hat in the process.

“Welcome back.” He said kindly as you shifted your hood back enough to show your face.

“I need to speak with him.” You said plainly.

“With the boss? Yeah, I’ll take you.” He offered you his arm and you frowned slightly. He shook his head with a small chuckle and gestured for you to follow. He mumbled something about you being as proud and stubborn as ever, though it was intended as a friendly jab.

You resisted the urge to hide in your hood as you went through the Club. Your eyes started forward, trained on a spot between Jesper’s shoulder, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t feel the other eyes turning on you. Partons and Dregs alike seemed to stop what they were doing to watch you pass.

Jesper took you to a small staircase in the back corner. You hadn’t even noticed it your first time in. He tapped on the door quickly before poking his head in. You could just faintly hear the conversation.

“Hey, Boss. You’ve got a visitor.” Jesper said quickly. “Hi, Inej.”

“Hello, Jesper.”’ The Suli girl answered.

“Tell them to come back later.” Kaz said quickly.

“I think you’re gonna wanna take this.” Jesper tried.

“I’m busy.”

“Are you though?”

“Who is it?” Inej chimed in.

Jesper leaned back to look at you, but you noticed the positioning of his body kept you out of sight from those in the other room. Your fingers drummed along the metal railing as you glanced around the Club.

Jesper smiled at you when you finally looked back and you just shrugged. “A friend.” He popped his head back in. “Your friend.” He emphasized, likely towards Kaz.

You returned your eyes to the Club floor and your gaze met an unwelcome set of eyes already on you.

Per Haskell.

Your stomach pitched and you rubbed a hand against your chest, feeling the hard material of the blade under your cloak. If Haskell took even a step towards you, you’d slice off the pound of flesh you were owed, despite the riot it would cause. Before anything could get to that point, you put a hand on Jesper’s shoulder.

“Forget it.” You said quickly. He turned to face you and his expression shifted to confusion, either to your sudden decision change or your own expression. “Thank you for trying. I’ll figure it out some other way.”

“Davina?” Kaz asked. Your eyes darted to the doorway, something in you reacting to your name coming from his voice, but you looked back to Jesper with a pointed expression. You were quietly begging any Saint listening that he understood you wanted out.

“Hang on. What…” Jesper grabbed your arm before he looked over your shoulder. You gently tried to pull your arm away but you saw him understand. “I’ll walk you out then.”

He made a point to come around you and stand between you and the rest of the Club floor.

“Thank you.” You sighed. You wouldn’t say you needed the escort, but when Jesper offered you his hand, you accepted it. Admittedly, it was a comfort to know you’d have one.

You were halfway down the short steps when Kaz called you back.

“Wait.” He said and Jesper immediately stopped. “Bring her in.”

You cursed quietly as Jesper turned you back to Kaz’s office. Inej was still inside and she offered you a quick nod. You returned the gesture, even intended to smile at the girl, but the fight to keep the memory of the hallucinations away was at the forefront of your mind.

Jesper gave your hand a slight squeeze before he left. You only knew he was gone when the door closed behind him. You were staring blankly at the floor while your mind tried to find some sense of reality.

“Davina?” Inej asked carefully. You couldn’t figure out if it was concern or distrust in her voice. “Are you alright?”

You said nothing. You couldn’t say anything. No matter what words you tried to summon, nothing came out of your mouth. Your voice had left you.

She came closer and her hand landed lightly on your arm. The new touch seemed to snap you back to focus and your eyes met hers. One look and you understood it had been concern in her words a moment ago. You smiled sadly and nodded in thanks. You cleared your throat and pulled your shoulders back, finding your control again as Inej’s hand fell away.

“Right, well.” You said and drew your hood back. You found Kaz already looking at you, that cursed unreadable expression on his features as he leaned on the desk’s surface. “What do you know about the Dryden estate?”

“The newest Merchant?” Kaz answered with a noncommittal shrug. “Not much worth knowing.”

“But do you know the layout of the house? I need the floor plans.”

“Do you?” He stood tall, eyeing you carefully. “What for?”

“Can you only ask questions or do you answer them?” You shot back.

Inej chuckled quietly and Kaz glared at her for a moment, though the look lacked any real heat.

“How much?” You sighed.

He looked back at you and raised his brows in quiet question.

“You either have the plans or you know who does. I don’t have time to run around to offices and wait for requests to process. You also refuse to say anything remotely helpful without incentive. So I ask again, how much?”

“What do you need them for?” He asked instead and you had to refrain from rolling your eyes.

“A job, clearly.”

“On Dryden?”

“No, on his neighbor.” That time you did roll your eyes. “Yes, Dryden, you insufferable man.”

He smirked slightly and sat back in his chair. He lifted his cane and spun it, thoughtfully examining the crow’s head. “Insufferable.” He repeated to himself.

“I have other, less kind words if you don’t like that one.” You muttered.

“Dryden doesn’t have much.” He said instead. “Do you have someone that can pick locks?”

“Well enough.” You nodded. You were no expert, but you could handle most basic locks.

Kaz muttered to himself, some sort of mockery of your answer, as he rummaged through a drawer. You glanced and saw Inej had disappeared. You had to applaud her light footedness. When you looked back at Kaz, he handed you something. You accepted the small case and flipped the top, exposing a set of lock picks.

“Well enough doesn’t mean I need these.” You slammed it shut and handed it back to him.

He leaned back in his chair, clearly expressing he had no intent of taking them back.

“The locks on the windows are simple enough, but if you don’t have picks, you won’t get anywhere.”

“I don’t want your charity.” You snapped.

“Don’t call it charity then.” He shrugged. “Call it a gift.”

You groaned and pulled your arm back to throw the case at the wall near him. He didn’t flinch but before you could let the case go, you were tapped with a rolled up paper. You flinched and gripped the case tighter, planning to use it as a weapon, but you relaxed when you saw it was just Inej. You hadn’t even seen the woman come back.

“The Dryden Estate.” She said simply, shaking the paper at you. Hesitantly, you dropped the pick case down your sleeve and took it.

“Thank you…” You said carefully. “Why are you helping me?”

“What Haskell did to you last time you were here was beyond wrong. I wouldn’t wish that type of treatment on anyone. I hope this can make up for it.”

“You’re helping me to try and make amends?”

“I’m helping you to keep us on fair terms.” She corrected. 

“You don’t like me all that much, do you?” You teased. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Kaz frown more noticeable than he usually did. Or maybe his usual expression was closer to a scowl.

“No.” She said flatly and with finality.

“Why is that?”

“Davina.” Kaz warned. You waved him off but conceded to his underlying request.

“You’re right, Wraith.” You nodded to her. “I am my father’s daughter, and I’ve come to terms with that. I know that makes me horrid. Wretched. Unbearable. All these horrible things, and all his fault. Despite that, I think you and I will come out of all of this as good friends.” You wagged a finger at her.

“We have a common enemy.” She said instead and you pouted slightly, just to be a pain. “We should focus on that.”

“Do we?” You nodded and looked back to Kaz. Your head tilted, falling slightly against your shoulder, and you raised your brows slightly. “She knows, then?”

“No.” He answered tightly. He was scanning your expression, piecing together what you were planning as you straightened with a small, mischievous smirk. While it was clear he wanted to know what you were lifting from Dryden, he was also working to figure out if you’d tell Inej his secret.

You considered it, just to push your limit with him and see how far he’d really let you go. But at that moment, you liked having your limbs attached and your blood in your veins. Some other time, you decided. 

“I thought if you’d tell any of them, you’d tell her.” You shook your head. “But I suppose it’s fair. I haven’t told Melli yet, either.”

“Enough.” Kaz said firmly and stood. You sighed inwardly but kept his gaze, standing a little taller and giving a small shrug, as if to say it was his move. “I’ll walk you out.”

You made a noise of satisfaction to yourself and gestured for him to walk ahead of you. With the plans tucked under your arm and hidden by your cloak, you nodded in thanks to Inej and followed Kaz out.

“You know…” You began as you fell into stride with him. “You shouldn’t pay off his debts.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He said plainly.

You pulled the envelope from your cloak’s pocket and handed it to him. You didn’t look over as he took it. “What makes you think this was me?”

“I know your handwriting.” You rolled your eyes to yourself. “I hope you don’t think this makes us equal in any way.”

“Why would I care about that?” He sounded bored but there was an honest inquiry there. It almost seemed as if he wasn’t sure why you two would need to be equal.

“The night at the Exchange.” You said tightly. “You may have helped last time I was here and your may have paid off your friend’s debt, but that doesn’t mean I won’t hold a grudge for a while longer.”

“And if I have a grudge of my own?”

“I know you do. Like I said, I know who you see in my place… How did you know about the credit? As far as I knew, only Nina knew.”

“He confessed while you were unconscious, said it was his fault you were there.”

He said it so simply, as if it was just something that happened sometimes. The sun rose, the tides came and went, you fell unconscious due to poisoning. You shivered slightly and while you didn’t return the gesture, Kaz peeked over at you.

“Humor me and take it.” You said carefully, accidentally having locked eyes with Haskell again. “Consider it payment for the plans and the picks.”

Haskell stood and you saw two glasses in his hands. Instantly, and regrettably, you put yourself a step behind Kaz. He stood a bit straighter but said nothing. Your eyes remained forward, hands folded behind you, and your hood down. As much as you wanted to hide in it, you wouldn’t appear a coward with Haskell coming towards you and Kaz. Once he was close enough, Kaz put his cane to the side to stop you, coincidentally keeping you behind him.

He looked past Haskell, who he was looking at you couldn’t tell among the crowd, and did a quick series of hand gestures. Satisfied with the response, he faced down his boss.

“Well, well, isn’t this a sight?” Haskell announced, though only a few heads turned. For that, you were grateful.

“Sir.” You nodded politely and Kaz made a small noise of amusement.

“What are you doing with this one, Boy?” He asked Kaz.

“Exchange of services, Sir.” Kaz answered with the same manners you used and you said nothing. “Just showing our friend good manners on her way out.”

“Services, eh? Yes, you needed a good tumble.” Haskell said thoughtfully, scratching his graying beard with a nod. “Bit upright lately, but I’m sure she fixed you right up.”

You had a million protests ready but Kaz reached for Haskell’s shoulder and turned him away. You opened your mouth to say something but another hand was on your back to guide you away. You reached for your hidden blade but saw it was only Jesper. You followed without question, relaxing only slightly, but you still looked back over your shoulder.

Kaz met your eyes and offered a sharp nod. You knew what he had done, he did on purpose. He took Haskell away and had Jesper ensure you left the Crow Club safely. He didn’t have to. You knew as well as he had to, yet he did it anyway. You couldn’t understand why.

Early the next morning, you and your friends planned the job. Melli’s notes aligned with what you had gotten from Kaz, moreso from Inej if you thought about it. Your trio spent most of the morning bouncing ideas off each other until the plan was set. You’d get the windows open and slip inside with Melli. Kol would keep lookout and knock out the footmen. Melli would be responsible for carrying the statue out and Kol would go with her to deliver it to the Ravkan. It seemed simple enough, until it all went to hell.

You weren’t naive enough to think Melli was the only one that had access to the job. Someone else very well could’ve heard or was even offered the job while you were all discussing. You were, however, foolish enough to believe that once you confirmed with the Ravkan, it would’ve been yours and yours alone. But it seemed the Dime Lions had a different idea.

You and Melli carefully put the figure in her shoulder bag, padded with a few extra shirts, and were heading back out the window. It was a second story window but a garden lattice was climbing up the wall beside it. You had scaled it like a ladder and were allowing Melli down first. Kol was waiting at the bottom and you saw the slight flex of his fingers to keep Melli calm.

You were seated halfway out the window, watching your lieutenant make her way down. The picks fell out your sleeve and into your hand as if automatic and you were readying to climb out and relock the window. Once her feet hit the ground, you were shifting to swing your leg out when you felt the impact of a bullet against your side. You opted to leave your hood, wearing the Grisha made vest instead with a scarf wrapped across the lower half of your face. 

The bullet threw your balance sideways and you gripped the window frame to keep from falling. You turned your eyes towards the room and saw no one, but the faint light from the hall allowed you to see the smoke from the fired gun that was retreating. Quickly, you turned over your shoulder and saw Kol and Melli gesturing for you to hurry. You waved them off, hoping they’d stick to their jobs instead of waiting around for you, and let the picks slide back into your sleeve, pulled a blade from your boot, and dropped back into the house.

You landed in a crouch near the window and felt the precursor of a bruise forming on your ribs. Quiet curses fell from your lips as you moved along the wall, staying in a low crouch and keeping contact with the wall. Your plan now was to get that door shut and barricaded then hurry out the window. You were only a few feet away when the door swung open, nearly knocking you off your feet. You swallowed your yelp of surprise and pushed yourself further against the wall.

“I saw her at the window, Boss.” One of the men said.

Three men crossed the room and went straight for the window. You didn’t need them to turn to recognize your father among them. You tried to make yourself a bit flatter as you crept around the open door. You were nearly out when a fourth man appeared and yanked you to your feet.

You kept a firm grip on your knife as he shoved you back into the room.

“Ah.” Your father smiled at you. “There she is.”

“Why are you here?” You asked. A simple enough question that you didn’t necessarily care to hear an answer to, but it would buy time. All you could think was whether or not Kol and Melli were able to get away.

He shrugged and stepped closer, yanking the scarf off your face. You had half a mind to bite him.

“I heard whispers of someone coming for Dryden tonight so I offered my help.” He explained and the arrogance in his voice made you sick. You wrinkled your nose in disgust but he didn’t seem to notice. “Didn’t think you were up for it thought, little one.”

“Have your guy let me go and we’ll see what I’m really up for, Papa.” You instigated but the man behind you kicked out your knee, forcing you to the ground and keeping you there with a hand pushing down on your shoulder.

“You see, Davi?” Your father knelt in front of you. You kept eye contact but you had yo force yourself not to spit in his face. “You’re not meant for all of this.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” You shook your head, feeling the handle of the blade in your hand. “I’ve stood against you twice already. I’ve gotten away from Dirtyhands and the Dregs. This isn’t your kingdom anymore.”

“Even if you could take it, you wouldn’t know what to do with it.” He almost sounded apologetic, like when he would explain why you couldn’t have another dessert. It made your blood boil.

“Why do you think I’ve been making friends in the Barrel?” You mocked. “My Snakes, Heartrenders, even a few Dregs.”

“Davi, Davi, Davi.” He said in disappointment. “You always were a stubborn one.”

“I believe they say I’m pigheaded, just like you.”

He waved you off.

“What’d you come here for, little one?” He asked, surveying the room for what he would perceive as valuable. His eyes came back to you when he saw nothing.

That, of course, was because the statue was already gone. The rest of the commodities in the room were of basica, Merchant luxury. Nothing worth enough to take.

When you said nothing, you saw your father’s hand tighten into a fist. If you could get him to hit you, you could start an entire brawl with all four of them. The chaos would be enough for you to bolt.

“Don’t you see?” You instigated. “If you can’t see what’s worth it in this room, then your reign really is over.” You laughed. “You’re from an older regime, Papa. Dirtyhands and I, we’re the ones who are going to hold the power in the Barrel soon enough. Once we do, you best believe we are burning the Emerald Palace to the ground first. And I am asking every single Saint that you and your heir are inside.”

“You’d wish death on your brother?” His eyebrows raised.

“He’s no brother of mine. You made sure of that.” You spat at his feet. “I share my mother’s face and I share your last name, but know that we are not the same. Everything that has happened has been and forever will be your fault.”

That did it.

He swung his fist against your jaw and the Lion behind you let you fall to the ground. You thought it was ironic that he dared to talk down on you for forgoing your relation to his son but could so easily strike his daughter. You felt a hand on your arm to sit you back up and so you swung the blade. You didn’t stop to see who or where you connected before you hurried to your feet.

The three Dime Lions stood across from you, which meant you had cut your father, and that made you smile. With the blade firmly gripped in your hand, you threw yourself into a fight. You kept close the to men, ducking and dodging more than attacking on your own. Your nimble mvoements made them hit each other more than you, which seemed to piss them off more, especially when your blade came through with knicks and small jabs. Your father was barking orders, making his way to his feet, which served as a perfect distraction.

You kicked out at one of Lions’ backs and he fell onto your father. You ducked a swing and slashed a long line down the arm of a second. The last Lion leaned down to tackle you, his shoulder slamming into your stomach. You fumbled the blade, knicking the edge of your own plam before getting it back under control.

You were slammed hard against the wall behind you and it knocked the air out of your lungs. He had a few inches off the ground so you drove your knee up hard, hitting his stomach several times. When he finally let you fall, you drove your knife up into his stomach.

“I’d make sure there’s a Healer close when you take that out.” You warned, taking deep breaths to refill your lungs. Silence fell over the room and you wondered what your father was seeing now.

“You’re dead.” The Lion hissed. Your head cocked and you drew a second knife from your boot. You flipped his arm, swatting away the other hand he tried to grab you with, and found his tattoo. You dragged your blade across it, decapitating the lion. “I’m gonna kill you myself, you little bitch.”

“No.” You looked him in the eyes, gripping your embedded knife. When it shifted, blood leaked out and over your hands. “I don’t think you will.”

You yanked it out and he fell to his knees. You forced away the thought that you had just killed a man and faced your father, a bloodied knife in either hand while the blood of his Lion dripped off your fingers. You kept your chin high and he seemed horrified by the sight.

Good.

“His death is on you.” You pointed the blade towards him. “As is the death of any Lion that comes after me or my Snakes. As is the death of my friends.”

You crossed the room and stood toe to toe. The other Lions took a step back but your father stared you down.

“Do you even remember their names?” You asked quietly. “The two boys that were my only friends.”

He said nothing. He took a step back and raised a pistol to your forehead. Your eyes went wide with shock for a second before you regained your composure.

“You judge that I wouldn’t care if your son died, but you raise a gun to your daughter. Again.” You laughed in disbelief.

“You’re no child of mine.” He said and despite the venom in the words, there was the gloss of unshed tears in his eyes. 

“I haven’t been your child in years, Pekka.” You spat and the gun cocked.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. You thought immediately of Melli and Kol, how they’d fare in the wake of your death. Kol would take over as lieutenant when Melli took your place, you were sure of it. He’d be able to keep good relations with Nina, who could convince Inej and Jesper to convince Kaz to not demolish the Snakes. It may even be enough to be true allies. The irony of the one thing you’d been hoping for being more likely after your death was not lost on you, even in your potential last moments.

And then, your thoughts drifted to Kaz. The strange relationship you two held. He hated you, that much was as certain as the sun rising in the morning, but he also (maybe) still saw you as a friend. Small moments had you convinced that there was some semblance of the boy you knew was still there, kicking and screaming and fighting to be recognized. He kept you safe at your most vulnerable. He gave you the picks, the plans, and paid off his friend’s debt to you. You thought of some of the things he said to you, brief sentences that had made a little home in the deepest corner of your mind.

She isn’t like you.

Not all memories are bad.

I never blamed you.

Was that what they meant when they said your life flashed before your eyes when you were going to die? Memories and thoughts of those you were leaving behind. You thought in passing of your mother, if she’d

mourn you, but you understood she lost you a long time ago.

A sudden clatter made your eyes shoot open. Your father was clutching a now bleeding hand and his pistol was a few feet away, laying next to a small blade. You were quick to tuck yours away and pick up the fallen, familiar blade. You examined it for a second and realized it was Inej’s.

You looked up and saw a small figure creeping through the shadows while the two remaining Lions ran to the window. You slid the blade across the floor and took up your father’s gun. You stood and pointed it at him.

When he faced you, you fired and the bullet hit his leg.

The sound made the pair of Dime Lions turn and face you. You motioned them closer and waited. You held your position as they charged until you felt the quiet presence beside you. Their steps didn’t falter. You didn’t say anything or even look towards Inej, but once she moved, so did you.

You spun to avoid an oncoming punch and shot at the man’s foot. He cried out and fell to the floor, making the other one stumble over his fallen body. You glanced at your father and saw him hauling himself to his feet so you threw the gun and it hit him in the head.

Your distraction allowed for the fallen Lion to yank your foot from under you. You yelped before you hit the ground and he was quickly moving to pin you down. You kicked a blade free from your boot and went to use it, but he caught your wrist and turned the blade away. He pushed your hand down and your blade skirted down the outside of your arm. You cried out and threw your forehead forward, hearing a satisfying crack as it connected with his nose.

Inej made quick work of the Dime Lion, leaving him groaning and holding a hand to the deepest of several knife slashes. She helped you to your feet and you gestured for her to go first as you put your blade away, following her back to the window. She lept out first with that natural grace you envied and you came out next. You were reaching for the wooden lattice when the gunshot sounded and the bullet tore through your arm.

You almost fell from the impact but you just managed to get your feet in the flimsy structure. Your other arm faltered, stinging from the long knife wound, but you refused to let go. You clumsily got to the bottom and she grabbed your hand to pull you with her.

When you two finally got back to the Barrel, you got her to take a pause in an alley. You practically collapsed against the wall and slid to the floor with a thud. You reached for your torn sleeve and noticed how much blood was still on your hands.

Not all of it was yours and it was almost enough to make you sick. You knew you’d end up killing someone sooner or later, but that didn’t seem to make the first time any easier.

You forced yourself to focus and pulled your torn sleeve until it came off. You awkwardly wrapped it around the long slash until Inej came over quietly and took over.

“Why were you there?” You asked quietly. Truthfully, you didn’t quite care but you were grateful. You did need a distraction for thinking of the man you just killed.

“I knew you were going to be there, and I saw when your Heartrender and lieutenant made it back. They were talking about you and how they had to leave you.” She explained.

“Oh..”

“I thought of going back to Kaz but I wasn’t sure there was time.” She tied a tight knot and winced.

“And here I was thinking you didn’t like me.” You joked, letting your head fall back against the wall behind you.

“I don’t, not really, but I do respect you.” She explained and you raised a brow. “And Kaz seems to have taken a liking to you.”

You scoffed slightly. “If you knew the whole story, you’d know that’s not true.”

“I don’t need to.”

“You trust Kaz that much?”

“I owe Kaz that much. We all have a past, Davina, but that’s not all we have.”

“Is that some Suli wisdom?”

“No.” She smiled slightly. “Just the truth.”

“Thank you.” You nodded. “For showing up. You saved my life.”

“I’d like to think you’d do the same for us.” She said, though the tilt to her voice let you know it was more of a question.

“A select few Dregs.” You confirmed. “I could count them on one hand.”

She glanced behind her to see the foot traffic in the street before looking at your wounds, then she met your eyes.

“The Slat may be closer.” She said hesitantly.

“Maybe.” You agreed. “But it’d be better if I made it to the Rook at least. Kol can help me from there... I truly appreciate what you did for me tonight.”

She nodded. “Was that the first time you took a life?”

“That obvious?”

“Your hands are still trembling.”

“That may be due to blood loss.” You defended.

“And I saw the look in your eyes.”

“Does it get easier?”

She stood and offered you a hand. You accepted it, allowing her to help you to your feet. She walked with you for a few feet before she disappeared into the street, effortlessly blending into the crowd. But her last sentence seemed to echo in her absence. 

“No, it doesn’t.”

[qqueenofhades]

I think its genuinely fascinating how Biden has somehow become the bad vibes sin eater for the party. I'm seeing people who were doing the whole "voting doesn't matter both old men are the same" pivot hard into voting as harm reduction. The anti voting rhetoric has COMPLETELY lost The Youths on tiktok. People suddenly remember the good things the Biden administration has done but don't associate Harris with any of the things they didn't like. In my swing state volunteers are signing up in droves. People feel ENERGIZED, the vibe shift pre and post Biden dropping from the race has just been insane

Y'know, that is a... good way of putting it. It's also why I'm quite sure that Biden has probably been planning it for a while. I don't think he was intending to step down, and didn't want to be forced out at the drop of a hat, but after he realized that the circus was never going to stop until he did, he did the honorable fall-on-his-own-sword thing and definitely, DEFINITELY spent some time choreographing this behind the scenes. Because while the roll-out has been very smooth, it could just as easily (as many of us were expecting) have been a total disaster, and that doesn't happen without SOME planning. It's also entirely possible that the campaign staff flipped from Biden to Harris are superhuman, to come up with a massive online roll-out, new branding, new signs (they had plenty of 'em in Wisconsin yesterday), new everything, but I'm guessing it's a combination of both. Biden has spent his entire political career being underestimated, and after we literally made a meme out of Dark Brandon juking the Republicans out of their shoes, we should definitely give credit where credit is due in how masterfully he pulled it off.

Because we have had eight years defined by the central question of Whether The President Is a God King Who Should Serve For Life (the MAGAts obviously think yes), the sheer idea of a president willingly giving up his power BEFORE he had to is also novel and admirable. It's sad that this is the case, but so be it. The Republicans also got a heaping helping of Be Careful What You Wish For that was undoubtedly brilliant; they've been yelling for years that Biden is old and frail and can't serve and should step down. Biden went "lol okay" and gave it to them, and now they're fucked.

Aside from that, on the most basic level, it's far, far easier to see the actual difference in the parties with Harris as the nominee, just because it shows that one party is willing to make progress and reflect the new demographic reality and social mores of America, and the other one is not. Now to be clear, Biden deserves an incredible amount of credit for coming out of retirement (he was ALREADY 77 years old when he became president and had had decades of a long and respected career in public service behind him) to fight, beat Trump, and deliver an incredibly successful presidency. He held the line against authoritarianism at home and abroad, he rescued the trashed American economy and managed a world-leading recovery from Covid, he stood up for democracy, he spent four years filling the benches with liberal judges to reverse even some of the Trump/McConnell hack job, he finally passed comprehensive infrastructure investment and the Green New Deal under the name of the Inflation Reduction Act -- and so on. Many of these priorities had been languishing for decades or were completely trashed under Trump, and he could not have done so much in just 4 years without all that age, skill, and experience. Hence why all the Ageism!!! was (aside from being a Republican/media smear job) dumb. He's able to do the job because he has had decades to study. Turns out that makes you actually pretty damn good at it.

Yes, Biden could not do as much as he wanted or originally planned, had to deal with MAGA Republicans and Joe Manchin/Kyrsten Sinema sabotaging him the whole time (lololol Manchin, possible possessor of the World's Biggest Ego and with Trump around that's saying something, popping out of obscurity to self-righteously announce he would not be willing to be Kamala's VP. YEAH ASSHOLE. LITERALLY NOBODY ASKED YOU. NOBODY WHATSOEVER. NO MATTER WHAT HAPPENS AT LEAST WE WILL SOON NO LONGER HAVE MANCHIN IN THE SENATE). And yes, Biden made some serious mistakes of his own, because he IS from an older generation and a different style of doing politics/different beliefs that no longer resonate with the younger segments of the electorate. But this old white Catholic guy at the age of almost 80 still managed to be the most progressive president ever, coming in at a moment of incredible domestic and international crisis and getting us safely to the other side, and all cynicism, criticizing, and caveating aside, he deserves an incredible amount of credit for that. I mean that absolutely, and I am very grateful.

As I said, willingly relinquishing that power takes guts, and when Biden saw the writing on the wall that he had to sacrifice himself, he took his time, he didn't jump too early, and he didn't jump too late. On the most basic level, it becomes a hell of a lot easier to make the "both parties are not the same" argument when one is running a (comparatively) young brown woman and the other is still running their loathed felonious old demented orange traitor. Most Americans are not plugged into policy minutiae and details. They look at Biden-Trump, they see two old white guys. When you take one of those old white guys away (who goes in a self-sacrificially heroic manner and in sharp contrast with the coup-happy fascist) and put Kamala Harris in there instead, it generates an obvious jolt. People can see for themselves that there is a real difference that doesn't rely on closely reading news and tracking complex policy, because as noted, most Americans simply don't. The brown first-generation American daughter of brown immigrants is a quantifiably different story from "old white guy career politician," which for better or worse is how Biden was seen, especially the old part. We needed that establishment expertise to beat Trump in 2020; I still think Biden is the only one who could have done it, and as noted, we owe him a great debt for doing so.

However.... 2024 is not 2020, and it is not 2016. There has been this HUGE and unbelievable swing to Kamala because she represents the antithesis of what the last eight years of Trump-induced anger, fear, panic, chaos, and hatred has stirred up. That's why people are so ready to rally around her, just as they were (I daresay) around Obama in 2008, after the exhaustion, chaos, war, and mounting economic misery of Bush. Trump has been out of office for the last four years, but his shadow over the American political landscape has been omnipresent. Now people know that we finally have a real chance at getting rid of him forever, and just as Biden was uniquely positioned to capitalize on that in 2020, so Harris is now. Which is why, however tough it will be, she has a real shot at winning. I can guarantee the Republicans know that, and are shit scared. Because the Black Lady Army of Democracy has indeed arrived in force to Get This Shit Done and I don't know about you, but I found that incalculably comforting:

Yikes! All lined up for Kamala pic.twitter.com/Dt4OCDp7WX

— Alex Cole (@acnewsitics) July 24, 2024

This, at the most basic level, is what scares fascists the most, it's exactly what we need now, and what Harris is uniquely positioned to mobilize, along with her gangbusters appeal to young voters:

This is the energy we need. This is what Biden saw and planned for and which he launched us into, and where all that experience and age paid off. This is why people, even people otherwise disengaged, disillusioned, or checked out of the tedious and mind-numbering drudgery and depression of American politics, are responding to it. Because it's easy to understand, it offers hope, and it tells a very simple story that is nonetheless long overdue:

Thanks so much, Joe. Go absolutely waste that orange fucker, Kamala. We got your back.

[cxrrodedcoffin]

Route To Sin - Eddie Munson

Likes are always appreciated but reblogs and feedback keep artists going!

Summary: eddie decides to go on a roadtrip with you to visit your sister in vegas, when you stop at a themed motel on the way, things quickly take a filthy turn.

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N: my first eddie munson fic!! i’ve loved this man for two years, i just finally decided to put it on paper lol, please let me know what y’all think!!

TW: dom!eddie, slight brat tamer!eddie, reader has a sister, drug use (weed), food mention, marriage talk, dacryphilia, breeding kink, daddy kink, bathtub sex, oral fixation, unprotected sex (don’t do this), creampie, cowgirl, mirror sex, degradation (brat, whore), porn mention, spanking mention, pet names (doll, babydoll, sweet girl, sweetheart, angel), hair pulling, fem + afab reader, reader gets slightly insecure at the end

Rating: R, 18+

——

A waft of earthy smoke billowed from the open driver’s side window, the familiar smell pulling Eddie’s attention back to the van. You knelt on the bench seat, body stretched across the expanse of the front cab to rest your folded arms against the edge of the window frame, silently watching your boyfriend pump gas. The last of the joint you’d been passing back and forth dangled limply between your pointer and middle finger, careful to avoid dropping the simmering butt and accidentally lighting the whole place up.

“If you keep blowin’ that roach shit my way I’m gonna leave you here.” That signature sarcasm rang heavy in his tone, canines peeking out from under his top lip with the smile he flashed at you.

He shut the fuel door, grabbing the roach out of your hand before snubbing it out against the heel of his boot and tossing it into the ashtray on top of the nearest trash can.

“I gotta go in to pay, do you want anything?” He fumbled with his wallet, pulling the wad of crumpled bills out of the worn leather.

“Get me a slice?” You asked, tilting your head toward the neon in the window that read ‘Pizza: Hot To Go’ in blinking red letters. He nodded, hitting a light jog into the convenience store, wallet chain slapping against his thigh with every step.

When you suggested a roadtrip to visit your sister in Nevada, you hadn’t fully taken into account how long you’d need to be in the van. Hawkins to Vegas wasn’t exactly a short trip, two thousand miles to be exact, and as much as you loved spending time with Eddie, the old, worn out seat of his van was starting to make your tailbone ache. Being 16 hours into a 28 hour drive had you feeling more stressed out than usual, you definitely needed to sleep in a real bed tonight if you hoped to get any relief before your big weekend in Sin City.

Eddie came bounding across the cracked pavement, pizza box in hand and you perked up, his goofy smile illuminated by the final sliver of dusk and the dingy glow of the old gas station sign above.

“I got a whole pie, Rick wasn’t fuckin around when he said that new stuff would make you feel like you’re starving.” He yanked open the door, the metal creaking loudly on its rusty hinge. You took the box from him, setting it on the bench between you as he hoisted himself into the driver’s seat, starting up the van to continue your journey.

“Eddie, can we stop at a motel tonight?” You asked, opening the box to lift a piece of pizza out, folding it down the center and bringing it to his face.

“M’not sure if there’s anything on the way, but we can stop if we see something, doll.” He turned his head, keeping his eyes on the road through his peripheral as he took a bite from the slice in your hand.

‘Welcome Home (Sanitarium)’ by Metallica blared through the speakers either side of the van’s tape deck, vibrations from the heavy bass flowing through the vehicle and melding with the warm haze your high pulled over your mind, your body relaxing into the stained upholstery of the seat. You kicked your bare legs up onto the dashboard, white lacquered toenails pulling Eddie’s eyes off the road briefly. His gaze shifted down to your ankle, then your calf, then landing on your plush thigh, your soft skin peeking out from under your short pajama shorts.

“Eddie, there!” You pointed toward the sign glowing overhead through the dirty windshield, reading ‘Heart’s Desire Motel’ in faded letters atop a large metal heart. His attention was quickly pulled away from your soft skin, pulling the van off the highway and into the small parking lot. The place was quaint, baby pink paint peeling from the siding, with an old ‘vacancy’ sign blinking in the window of the front office. You pulled your sandals on and jumped out of the van, slipping Eddie’s jacket over your shoulders to shield your bare arms from the chill in the night air. Eddie followed quickly behind, catching up to you with ease as you reached the front door.

A small bell rang when you pulled open the office door, the only source of light in the small room being a desk lamp situated behind the front counter. You waited for a moment, hearing a ‘be right with you!’ called from an adjoining space.

“How can I help ya darlin?” A sweet older woman emerged from a back storage space, setting some paperwork down and taking her place behind the counter.

“Can we get a room for the night?” You asked cheerily, excited to finally lay down on something that wasn’t a blanket in the back of Eddie’s van. She smiled and nodded, flipping through the room log book, and you took the opportunity to glance at your surroundings. The walls were the same light pink as the exterior, with heart and cupid motifs scattered across them to really hone in on the theming. The kitchy aesthetic was endearing, a reminder of the bygone honeymoon resorts of the 60’s.

“All our double twin rooms are booked for the night so we only have single queen rooms available, is that alright?” She looked between you and Eddie, knowing her question may as well have been rhetorical.

“That’s actually preferred, it’s our wedding night.” Eddie lied to the woman, a shiteating grin stretched across his face when you turned back to him and shoved his shoulder.

“Well in that case I’ll put you up in our honeymoon suite! It’s not much different from our standard rooms, but there’s a heart shaped tub for you two lovebirds to enjoy.” Her face lit up with the sweetest smile and your heart melted, guilt sitting low in your chest knowing it was a lie. You didn’t have the heart to tell her or question why she’d believed it given the way the two of you were dressed, but you shrugged it off, just happy to be able to finally relax.

You took the key from her as Eddie handed her the cash to pay for the room, twirling it between your fingers, a red keychain etched with the same logo as the overhead sign on one side and the room number above a small heart on the other. Eddie shoved his wallet back into his pocket, his arm wrapping around your waist to usher you out of the main office, calling out a ‘thank you’ as you left.

“What the fuck was that?” You grabbed your bag from the back of the van, shooting him a death glare only to be met with that ridiculous smirk he so loved to taunt you with.

“What, you don’t wanna be my bride?” He faux pouted, dark waves falling in his face as you reached for his bag. You over-exaggeratedly rolled your eyes, starting to walk toward the room.

“Guess it’s the atmosphere of this place getting to me, babydoll.” He slammed the door of the van, jogging to catch up with you as you started putting the key in the door lock. Your cheeks burned in embarrassment from how that little nickname made your heart want to burst out of your chest, Eddie always knew exactly how to push your buttons in the best way and this was no exception.

The sight that greeted you beyond the door was like something out of a 70’s porno, wood paneled walls framing crimson velour window trimmings, a matching velvet comforter sprawled across the queen bed. Two poorly painted angels sat perched atop the heart shaped headboard, like prying eyes seeing every depraved act carried out on the altar below. Sure enough, at the far end of the suite was a heart shaped jacuzzi tub, tiled steps leading up and mirrors lining the walls of the corner it was tucked into.

You dropped your bag on top of the mahogany dresser across from the bed, and as you turned on your heel to shut the door behind Eddie, you couldn’t help but burst into a small fit of laughter at the cross hanging above the door frame. The idea that anything happening in this sex den was god-honoring was definitely scoff-worthy.

“What d'ya say we put that thing to use? My back is killing me and I bet those jets would feel killer.” Eddie’s fingertips dug firm indents into the flesh of your hip, a not-so-subtle indication of what his intentions were for the night.

“Whatever you want, daddy.” You winked, taking a step forward until his large hand gripped your forearm.

“What did you just call me?” He questioned, brow quirked in curiosity.

“It’s our wedding night, remember? Don’t you wanna start a family?” Your tone was playful but truthfully something about this place was stirring a feeling so raw inside of you that you weren’t kidding in the slightest.

“If you keep that up you won’t be able to walk in the morning.” Eddie released his grip, slapping your ass as you walked away to turn on the faucet for the tub.

“Won’t need to anyway, I’ll be sitting in your shitty van for 12 more hours.” You knew exactly how to push his buttons, and insulting any of his women (his guitar, his van, and you) was the quickest way to do so.

“That mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble.” He half-snapped at you, digging through his duffle bag in an ill-fated attempt to stop himself from watching the way you wiggled your ass while you bent over the side of the tub, watching the waterline rise.

“What are you gonna do, spank me?” You found yourself deliberately arching your back toward to accentuate the curve of your ass, hoping with every fiber of your being he’d stop what he was doing and manhandle you a little.

“Only if you don’t stop with the bratty attitude.” He glanced over at you and immediately dropped the shirt he was pretending to fold back into his bag, finally giving up on his resistance and approaching you from behind, the rough denim of his jeans rubbing against your bare thighs. His fingers slipped into the waistband of your pj shorts and underwear, roughly yanking them down to expose your ass.

“Gotta get you outta these if we’re gonna take that bath.” His tone had returned to that lighthearted sarcasm that you loved to hate, and you almost let yourself sink back against him. Instead, you stood upright again, taking the hem of his tattered Iron Maiden shirt in your grip and lifting it up his torso until he pulled it the rest of the way over his head.

Just as he reached to do the same to your tank top, you turned away and reached for the tap again, putting a stop to the stream of running water. He gripped your waist, pulling you back against him before pulling your tank over your head, leaving you fully naked.

“Get in.” He whispered against the shell of your ear, sending a shiver up your spine that had goosebumps rising over your skin. Maybe it was your residual high, or the lovesick atmosphere of your surroundings, but everything felt heightened, your skin more sensitive, his presence behind you more intimidating, his voice more intoxicating.

You ascended the short step and sunk into the bath, the water level rising to not quite cover your chest as you laid back into the left arch of the heart. Eddie watched your every move, eyes glued to your hips to drink in the way your form shifted with every step. He made quick work of removing his jeans, letting the stiff denim pool at his feet as he watched you settle in, your gaze drifting to the waistband of his plaid boxers. He pulled them down at an almost agonizing slow pace, exposing inch after inch of his semi-hard shaft to your waiting eyes until his cock sprung free, the sheer weight of him causing his length to slap against his upper thighs.

You absentmindedly pressed your thighs together, trying to dull the ache between them to no avail. You never truly got used to seeing him fully naked, blushing like a naive virgin every time you had the privilege of seeing him like this. The muscles of his thigh flexed as he took the step up to level with the lip of the tub, towering over you before sinking into the water beside you. He was an Adonis, all toned muscle under a tender layer of plush tissue that made for the perfect sleeping partner, strong and comforting all the same.

“Come here, doll.” He patted his thigh, the water swaying with the movement alongside the low hum of his voice. You rose to your knees, floating to the other side of the tub and straddling his lap, your core sitting dangerously close to his cock. His hands found your hips, calloused fingertips digging into your soft skin with a squeeze before gliding up your sides, his thumbs ghosting over the sides of your breasts almost teasingly while he admired the way water droplets dripped down over your nipples.

“Always so gorgeous.” He groaned, strong hands finally encompassing your breasts, kneading tender flesh as his rough palms gave your stiff peaks the friction they desperately craved.

His touch lit a fire within you, and as much as the way that he looked at you with such admiration made your heart melt, your need was becoming more and more unbearable by the second. You shifted forward, rubbing your folds over the length of his shaft with a hunger, desperate for stimulation.

Before you knew it he had dropped his grip from your chest, threading a hand into your hair to yank your head softly back, drawing a gasp from your throat.

“Did I tell you you could move?” He questioned, cocking his head to the side and raising his eyebrow. He couldn’t help his sarcastic nature, it just came so naturally to him, and knowing that he had such an immense effect on you gave him the ego boost of the century. You shook your head as much as you could given the grip he held on your tresses, and choked out a soft ‘no’ in response before clearing your throat.

“I-I think I deserve some relief after being in the van all day.” You tried to put up a fight, not quite done riling him up, but your tone was quickly losing all conviction and Eddie could see you slipping further into desperation.

“You don’t deserve anything, you’ve been a pampered little passenger princess for 16 hours while I’ve done all of the work to get us here.” He yanked your hair back even further, craning your neck to look up at the baby pink popcorn ceiling. The sting in your scalp brought tears to your eyes, the liquid breaching your waterline leaving dark mascara trails down your cheeks in its wake.

“You’re being awfully bratty, doll, where’d my sweet girl go?” He cooed, free hand cupping your cheek as he loosened his grip ever so slightly to allow you to look at him.

“I’m sorry Eddie, I’m just so sore.” You sniffled, tears still falling from the shame the disappointment in his tone made you feel.

“Don’t cry baby, just need you to listen, okay?” He dropped his grip on your hair, both hands cupping your face, looking lovingly into your glazed eyes. You could feel his cock growing beneath you, the sight of dark makeup running down your tear stained face serving as the perfect aphrodisiac. He adored seeing you all messy like this, his perfect angel looking like a filthy whore, only for his eyes to see.

“Think we can both get some relief tonight if you’re good, can you be good for me?” You frantically nodded your head. “Yes, I promise!” Your enthusiasm made him laugh low in the back of his throat, that goofy smile returning to his face.

“Need you to use your words and tell me what you want, can you do that?” His tone held sickly sweet condescension and you could feel yourself slipping into that mind numbing headspace, wishing he could just slip into your mind for a moment and see all the dirty things you wanted him to do to you.

“Need you inside, please.” Your words came out barely above a whisper and he knew he wouldn’t get too much more out of you before you devolved into a mewling mess, too lost in your own mind to articulate your thoughts, but he couldn’t help but play with you a little longer.

“Inside where, sweetheart? Here?” He mused, bringing his free hand to your mouth, pointer and middle fingers prodding at your parted lips. You quickly took them in, sucking softly on his digits as you shook your head no, oral fixation too strong to pass up the opportunity to have any part of him in your mouth.

“If that’s not what you want then you need to tell me, don’t be greedy.” He pulled his fingers from your lips with a pop, his tone falling an octave. Your eyes widened, nodding in acknowledgment, willing to do anything to please him at this point.

“I-I need you down here, please.” You took his wrist in your shaky hand, guiding him down to dip into the warm water, lifting your hips slightly so his hand could fit in the tight space between your bodies, pressing his fingertips to the tight ring of muscles at your entrance. You stopped, releasing his wrist, not wanting to break any unknown rule and let him take the reins from there. He brought the heel of his palm up to rut firmly against your clit, drawing quiet whimpers as you did your best to stay still.

“What do you want here, doll? My fingers, or something else?” He teased, dipping two of his fingers inside only up to the first knuckle, the slight stimulation almost torturous as he scissored his fingers inside, stretching open the first inch of your cunt.

“God, something else, please.” You sighed, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“What then?” He stopped his movements, withdrawing his hand and you groaned from the lack of friction.

“Your cock, Eddie, please just let me ride you.” You swore you were trying to be good, but you were starting to feel like you’d lose your mind if you didn’t get the stimulation you were in desperate need of and you didn’t care how impatient you sounded.

“Only because you asked so nicely.” He laughed, his hands gripping your hips to guide you up just enough for his cock to stand upright in the water, the tip bumping against your weeping cunt. “Whenever you’re ready, babydoll. You want it so bad, you’re gonna do the work.”

You took his hint, bringing your hand beneath you to grip his member, finally sinking slowly down onto him until you could feel him in your stomach, the all too anticipated stretch making you cry out in relief after his teasing. He groaned, running a hand through his curls as he settled back against the edge of the tub, watching you start to slowly grind your hips, just feeling how full he made you feel.

After a few minutes you lifted your hips once more, starting a steady pace bouncing on his lap, the head of his cock rubbing against the tender patch of nerves deep inside your cunt, velvety walls engulfing him with every movement. The water surrounding you started to roll like waves, splashing against the sides of the tub, threatening to spill out onto the tile surrounding it. You took notice, slowly your movements to lessen the potential mess, and Eddie sighed.

“We’ll clean it up later baby, just let go.” He reassured you, secretly just as desperate as you were to get off. He didn’t care about a little clean up, let alone wiping some water off the floor.

You were hesitant but returned to your previous pace, angling your hips back to really allow his cock to hit the sensitive place inside you, euphoria slowly building in your core. Your gaze slowly shifted from his face and when you caught the sight of yourself in the mirrors surrounding the tub you gasped, the lewd image of your makeup stained face and your tits bouncing with every movement of your hips was something almost pornographic, really living up to the atmosphere of the room.

Eddie caught where your eyes had shifted to and groaned, throwing his head back to properly watch you get off to your own reflection.

“Look at yourself, bouncing on my cock like a desperate whore, making such a mess.” His hand came down to press against your lower stomach, his thumb rubbing quick circles over your clit until you were a moaning mess, your thighs burning with the almost brutal pace you were now maintaining.

“Want you to make me a daddy.” He moaned, his breaths becoming more labored. His statement broke you from your trance, your gaze falling back to his as you searched his eyes for any hint of sarcasm, but you found none, he wasn’t kidding.

“Can I knock you up, babydoll?” He reiterated the sentiment, increasing the pressure on your clit and feeling you pulse around him, your orgasm dangerously close.

“I need an answer before you or I can cum sweetheart.” He was panting, straining to prevent himself from finishing, and you did everything you could to pull yourself together enough to answer.

“Yes, Eddie, please!” You maimed, tears threatening your waterline from how close you were to the edge.

“Say it.” He groaned, locking eyes with you one last time.

“Please cum inside me daddy, please!” You cried out, tipping over the edge with one last slam of your hips, pleasure rolling over you in tandem with the waves of the water around you, your walls contracting over and over around him until his warmth spread throughout your cunt. You wrapped your arms around his neck, hugging him tightly against you until the aftershocks stopped wracking your body, relaxing on his lap.

“You okay angel?” His voice was strained but sweet as ever, always concerned about your wellbeing above anything else.

“Yeah.” You mumbled, smiling silently against his neck.

Once you were fully recovered, you raised off of him, both of you wincing at the loss momentarily before sinking under the now lukewarm water for one final rinse. You began to step out, Eddie right behind you to grab your waist when your foot almost slipped out from under you because of the slick tile.

“Careful babydoll, don’t want you to slip.” He held you firm as you stepped down, making sure you were safe on the ground level before following you out, handing you one of the fresh towels from the pile next to the tub. He wiped up the excess water off the ground as you dried yourself off, and you didn’t know if it was the cold air or the rational part of your brain turning back on, but something started to eat at you as you watched your boyfriend dry himself off.

“Is it okay that I called you that?” The worry in your voice almost made Eddie’s heart break into a million pieces, and he quickly wrapped the towel around his hips before taking you into his arms.

“I loved it, babydoll, I promise I would tell you if I didn’t.” He smoothed your hair away from your face, giving you a kiss on the forehead.

“How about we put on our pajamas and turn on a movie.” He smiled down at you, waiting for your approving nod before going to your bags on the dresser and pulling out your second pair of pj’s. He helped you into them before pulling on his own old band shirt and fresh boxers and crawling into the gaudy bed with you, cuddling up to watch whatever cheesy horror flick was airing on late night tv.

——

tags: @xxbimbobunnyxx @your-nightmaredoll

also tagging: @babygorewhore @taintandviolent @littlexdeaths @eddiesxangel @bimbotrashcan bc i thought you might be interested, please message me if you’d like me to remove you

please message me or send me an ask if you’d like to be tagged in future eddie fics!!

[moonlightspencie]

don't want you like a best friend

Description: James is nervous about his inexperience with girls. Luckily he has a best friend who's more than willing to help. (based on an idea formed in part by @amiableness. check out the post)

Pairing: best friend!James Potter x fem!Reader

Warnings: DESPERATE!james, inexperienced!james, blowjob (m receiving), porn with barely any plot

Word Count: 2.5k

a/n: kind of muggle!au? doesn't really matter in the context of this though lmao

You walked into James's flat, quite pleased he'd given you a key. It was much easier to bother him whenever you pleased when you could just waltz in any time.

"James!" you called out, toeing off your shoes.

"In here!" he shouted back.

You followed his voice to his room, seeing him laying on his tummy watching tv. You ran up to his bed and flopping down on it next to him. He laughed in that squeaky, joyful way he only ever seemed to do around you.

"Hi," he greeted with a cheeky smile.

"Hi," you replied with an equal grin, then glanced at the television. "What are you watching?"

"Nature documentary about penguins," he responded simply.

You glanced up at him with a quirked brow. "Why?"

"Cause I like penguins," he shrugged.

"...we need to get you a girlfriend."

He went a little quiet, prompting you to look at him again. You tilted your head.

"James?"

He chewed his lip. "I– I do kind of have a date. Tomorrow."

"What?" you exclaimed, suddenly sitting up straight. "Who? Since when?"

His cheeks went a little pink. "Sirius set it up for me."

"Oh my god! Why didn't you tell me?!"

"I'm nervous!"

You chuckled softly, still in a bit of disbelief. The boy had been single for far too long in your opinion, especially considering how much girls threw themselves at him in school. He always said that it was just because he had high standards, but part of you was half-convinced he must be terrified of girls. Or commitment. Maybe both.

"I just... I can't believe it. Is she cute?"

He almost grimaced. Not a great sign.

"Uh oh," you snorted a laugh.

"It's not that she's ugly! She's... she is pretty, its just," he sighed, shrugging a little, "she's not really my type, I guess."

"At this point, I'm beginning to believe you don't have a type."

He frowned. "Hey."

"Just saying, James. You never date, and it's not for lack of girls who like you."

"I kind of have to like them back for that to work."

"You sure you're not scared of girls?" you asked with a laugh.

He chuckled a little, shaking his head. "No."

"Commitment?"

"No."

"...Sex?"

"Ugh, don't say that," he groaned, dropping his face against the mattress.

You laughed again. "Sounds like a yes. It's really not that scary."

"It's kinda scary," he mumbled against his comforter.

"James," you called quietly, resting your cheek on the mattress to look at him.

He turned his face towards you, his cheeks pink and his hair even messier than usual. His lips were slightly pouty. Frankly, it was absolutely adorable.

"Everyone but me has done it at this point. The furthest I ever got was touching a boob over clothes in fifth year."

You couldn't help but to laugh at that, causing him to whine your name in protest.

"Sorry..." you said, not all that apologetic. "It's just... cute. You get so flustered. It's really not a big deal."

"It is a big deal to me."

"Aw. I'm sorry, Jamie. I just mean that nobody's going to fault you for being inexperienced."

"They might!"

"No they won't."

"You don't know that."

"At any rate, I think it's sweet."

"But I'm not having sex with you," he argued, then snapped his mouth shut, his cheeks going even darker. "That sounds... I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," you ran a hand through his hair, and he leaned into the touch. "I just mean to say that I'm sure if I think it's sweet, other girls would also probably think it's cute."

"I'm a man. I shouldn't be cute, I should be... strong and masculine. Hot."

"You're very hot, James."

He sighed, still pouting a little.

"Put that lip away," you muttered, tapping his bottom lip.

"You're being mean."

"No, I'm not."

"You're teasing me," he pouted again.

"What? How?"

"You're very hot, James," he mocked in an overly-high-pitched voice.

You snorted a laugh. "Heaven forbid I tell my hot best friend that he is, in fact, hot."

He fell quiet for a moment. "You really think so?"

"Of course I do."

"Mm," he hummed softly, then sighed. "Why can't there be more girls like you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" you asked, smiling curiously.

"You're always so sweet to me. I just wish there were more girls who act like you, cause then I could just... do it with them and not be so worried about it."

You raised your brows, trying to hold back another laugh. "Oh, really?"

"Don't tease me."

"I'm not. Just, why don't–" you stopped abruptly.

He looked at you with wide eyes. "What?"

"If you're so worried about getting your first time over with, then why don't you just do it with me?"

He looked like he got the wind knocked out of him in that moment, blinking a few times as if he was trying to wake up from a dream. He opened his mouth a few times, though no sound came out.

"I just mean that... you said you'd do it with a girl like me, so why not me? You trust me, I know what I'm doing, you know I won't judge," you listed off some reasons. "It could work, you know?"

"Cause you're... you're my best friend."

"And?"

"And friends don't do that."

"Friends do that all the time," you replied with a shrug.

"What?" he asked, looking totally mortified.

"Friends have sex all the time."

"Since when?"

"Since forever," you chuckled a little. "I'm not saying we have to. Just putting it out there, since you're so nervous about it and all."

"I–I don't..."

"You don't have to say yes."

"I know," he nodded, looking a little uncomfortable. "It's just... I don't think I'm ready to do all of that right now."

You smile a little. "I'm not saying I'd take you to pound town right now..."

"Ugh," he groaned.

"Sorry. I just mean to say that, if you wanted to, we could start slow. Work you up to the main event."

He chewed his lip, looking away from you. You sighed softly, then stood from the bed.

"Alright. Let's go and grab a snack or something and take your mind off all this. Stop stressing so much," you said, trying to grab his arm to pull him up.

He shook his head. "Can't."

"What? Yes, you can."

"No, I can't," he emphasized, his cheeks still dark.

"Why not."

He stared at you for a moment, then whined, dropping his head into the comforter again. He mumbled something into the fabric, causing you to groan in annoyance.

"What are you saying? I can't hear you when you mumble."

"You don't understand," he said, looking at you again with a pouty face. "You're not a guy."

"What the hell is that supposed to... Oh," your eyes widened. You let out a disbelieving, delighted little giggle. "Are you–"

"Please don't talk about it. It'll make it worse," he said quickly in his whiny little voice.

"Aww. Poor baby."

"Stop it."

"Let me see."

His eyes widened comically. "What?"

"Let me see. Come on, turn over," you giggle, trying to turn him.

"Lovie, no, I..."

"Please?" you pouted, knowing he could never resist it.

He whined. "Please don't. It's embarrassing."

"It's hot."

He gulped. "...It is?"

You nodded. "Yeah. It's kind of flattering, too. The fact that I barely suggested it and you got all excited."

"It's not my fault. I just... my brain started thinking..."

"Yeah, brains tend to do that," you joked, relishing in him being all flustered. It was so unlike his usual demeanor. "Come on, Jamie. I just want to see."

He swallowed, nodding a little awkwardly before he turned onto his back. You smirked a little to yourself at the obvious bulge in his sweatpants. You sat back on the bed right next to him, glancing back at his nervous face.

"Can I touch?"

"I... I don't know."

"Just over the pants right now."

He considered it for a few moments, before taking a deep breath, nodding.

"Okay," he said quietly, his hands balling into fists.

You smiled. "Relax."

You let your hand rest on his thigh first, watching him as his eyes trailed your every move. You slowly slid up his leg, teasingly, just so you could see him sweat a little at the thought of being touched for the first time. He was generally quite confident, but somehow missed out on anything and everything intimate outside of kissing.

He sucked in a breath as you reached his hip, looking as if he could pass out.

"Hey," you said gently, trying to catch his eye. "Take a deep breath. Relax. It's supposed to feel good."

He sniffed, nodding shakily. "Y-yeah. Sorry."

"Don't apologize, Jamie. Just... relax. Okay?"

"Okay."

You let your hand move again, barely ghosting over his bulge, the tips of your fingers touching the fabric of his sweatpants. You looked up at his face. His cheeks were red, and his eyes were wide and almost glossy. His pretty, pouty lips were just barely parted as he waited in anticipation for your next move.

You lowered your hand, gripping him gently through his pants, forcing a shaky gasp through his lips. You smirked to yourself a little, stroking him through his pants.

"Feels good, huh?" you asked in a quiet voice.

He opened his mouth to respond, but all that came out was a pathetic little moan. You chuckled at the sound, stroking him again. He was bigger than you expected him to be, but not terribly massive. His hips bucked into your hand, another soft whine coming from him.

"Aww. You like it, huh?"

He nodded, breath coming in short.

"Can I do a little more?"

"Uh..."

"I think you'll like it."

"M-maybe," he gasped out, looking utterly wrecked already.

"Can I take off your pants?"

He looked at your face again. "Huh?"

"Can I take them off? I wanna touch you," you stated simply.

He whimpered. "Um... For... for what?"

You furrowed your brow. "So I can feel you. I just want to touch your skin. It'll feel better for you, too. You touch yourself, right?"

"I... Y-yeah. Yeah, sometimes."

"And I assume you don't do it through your pants, right?" you laugh a little.

He merely swallows, nodding dumbly. "Right."

"So... Can I touch you like that? I won't do it unless you say yes."

"Oh..." he sucked in a shaky breath. "O-okay."

"Okay?"

"Yes."

You smiled, hooking your fingers in his sweatpants and underwear. "Hips up, please."

He followed your instructions easily, lifting his hips for you. You tugged everything down in one go, leaving it all pooled at his ankles on the bed. You nearly moaned yourself when you saw him, hard and leaky and ready. You traced his dick softly with your fingertips, impressed with him, and drawing another moan from his lips.

"So pretty, Jamie. Look at you."

"Don't... fuck," he gasped. "Don't say that."

"I mean it. Your cock is perfect."

He whimpered again, sounding like he could cry. You wrapped a hand around him, stroking him softly as hips bucked into your hand, soft moans and squeaks leaving him in utter desperation.

"P-please," he begged, staring at you as if you hung the stars.

"Please?"

"I... I don't know," he shook his head, his lip quivering.

"You need more?"

He sniffled, nodding quickly. "So bad. Please."

"Can I suck your cock, love?"

The sound that left his lips was utterly pornographic, his chest heaving like he'd run a marathon.

"God..."

"That's not my name, baby," you stroke him again. "I need you to say yes if this is what you want."

"Y-yes. Fuck yes," he said, his hips still shifting under you, trying to get more friction from your hand.

"So needy," you chide jokingly, moving to settle between his legs.

He whined watching you climb between his legs, nearly hyperventilating at the sight and feeling of you kissing along his stomach with your hand pushing his shirt up.

"So pretty," he groaned, stroking your hair.

You smiled against his stomach, licking nearly up to his chest just to hear him make that sound again. You kissed back down his stomach, barely ghosting over the tip of his cock at you looked back up at him.

"Ready?"

He nodded, in a trance as he watched you. You kept his eye contact as you darted your tongue out, tasting him for the first time. He practically sobbed in pleasure, pulling on your hair slightly.

"Told you it would feel good, baby," you mutter, licking from base to tip as he squirmed under your touch. "Isn't this nice?"

"Mmmm..." he nodded, chest heaving.

"Good boy," you kissed his tip.

You stared up at him, smiling to yourself at his sweet little reactions as you started stroking him. He looked so adorable totally wrecked. Like he could pass out at any moment. You couldn't help but to want more.

You wet your lips, figuring you could probably fit most of him into your mouth in one go: so you decided to give it a go. You licked him once more, then shoved his cock down your throat, letting it hit far enough to make you gag.

He shouted, gasping for air before he fell into a puddle of moans and desperate praises of your name. You pulled off of him, but only for a second before you went back down, sucking on him as if your life depended on it. It felt like it did.

He gripped the fabric of his comforter, sobbing in pleasure as his hips jutted up into your mouth. You were about to pull off to make some sly remark, when he whimpered loudly, shooting his cum down your throat. You hummed around him, swallowing everything you could despite your utter surprise that he had finished so quickly. He whined and kept his grip tight in your hair until he was done, his seed dribbling past your lips as you couldn't quite swallow everything. You weren't sure if you'd ever witnessed someone cumming so much before.

You did your best to clean him off without making him overly-sensitive, and finally pulled off.

"Mm... Holy fuck, Jamie. You cum that much every time?” You ask, chuckling a little despite being wildly aroused.

He shook his head, sweaty and still whimpering.

"Awww," you cooed softly, reaching up to stroke his cheek. "You okay?"

"That... that felt..."

"What?"

"Best thing ever," he managed breathily.

You laughed. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," he uttered, a small smile on his face as he opened his eyes. "I... you're really good at that."

"Apparently too good," you snorted.

"Maybe," he nodded, then hummed softly in pleasure. "Sorry for cumming so fast."

"It was sweet."

"It's not sweet," he shook his head.

"I think so. You're so sensitive," you kissed his cheek.

He hummed again, then sighed softly. You watched him as he took a few steadying breaths before he moved his eyes back to you. He let his eyes linger on your form for several moments, then chewed his lip. He looked up at you, clearly debating something in his mind.

Then he smiled a little.

"Can I return the favor next time?"

[hello-eden]

Unexpected Hope

Damian has been disoriented all week. When he was told that stopping the ritual would have repercussions, he did not expect this. He had been dealing with the memories on his own but unfortunately he could not postpone this gala. 

He had been stopping a ritual that would end up summoning the being he now knows as Undergrowth. Damien does not regret that choice especially now that he has the context. Unfortunately it brought back his memories of Phantom.

He didn't quite understand they were memories for quite a while honestly he was a little bit concerned he got possessed. Thankfully after some compartmentalizing and a little bit of isolation, he figured out what was wrong. It did not help the confusion that comes with being a Midwestern teen and an assassin child put into one body but he has gotten the hang of it. 

Unfortunately Damian did not get long before he was forced back into the presence of his family. he had put off many public family events in the last few months so he was not able to get out of this event. he probably could have faked being sick but he'd much prefer to be able to pass off any of his symptoms from the memories as uncomfortableness being around strangers then be alone with his family. 

He's honestly very happy with his choice after he sees her. He doesn't recognize her at first with the dark auburn braided hair and the dress being something other than black but something made him turn around when he heard her rant.

She was giving a humanitarian speech to one of the investors. At first he got closer just to hear about it. It's always funny to see the faces of the imbeciles when people don't bow to their wishes.

Damien thought he finally found someone who was not a gold digger or a social climber. What made him really stop in his tracks was her body language. It was like a neon flashing sign opened up and said ‘hey this is Sam Mason’. 

Damien walked over with hope in his chest that he was not alone. she eventually seemed to get tired of the man or maybe he was able to scramble an excuse and walk away. he couldn't quite hear but by the time he walked over there it was only her.

 “you seem to be quite passionate,” Damian says, trying to start a conversation and figuring out how to ask the hard question.

 What is he exactly supposed to say? ‘Hey, are you my best friend for my last life or hey do you remember being on my ghost hero vigilante team that ended up with all of us being Undead royalty.’

The girl looks him over, probably trying to figure out what he wants. 

“Are you here to argue?” She says angrily, obviously ready for another fight.

“Your speech reminds me of someone, have you ever heard of Samantha Mason” Damien says trying to be nonchalant.

Her eyes seem to widen and look him over again.

“Where'd you hear that name.” She ordered.

“I've heard enough of her rants to be able to pick it out from a crowd.”

 “Danny,”  She said softly her grabbing his hands and squeezing as she looked around to make sure no one saw. “what how I thought it was the only one” Hope seemed to be filling her eyes. 

“Hi Sam” Damien Whispers just as softly just as glad he is not alone. 

Without another word Sam drags them to the stairway rushing up to the floor upstairs and trying to find a room that isn't being used. She eventually finds one two floors above the room they were using for the gala and pushes him into what looks like a break room.

 “How the hell did you get your memories” Sam demands 

“Why are you yelling at me? You have your memories too obviously if you are recognizing your name” Damian says shouting back at her. 

Sam always has a way of catching him off guard. She was happy just a minute ago. 

“yeah well I did something stupid which means I know you did something stupid” Sam said pointing her finger at him.

“ Well I may have accidentally stumbled upon a ritual for summoning an ancient and when I stopped it the backlash gave me my memories back. ” Damien stumbled over their words trying to justify themselves. "What stupid thing did you do?”

“The girls in my stupid Prep School in my grade went through a very witchy phase. there was a slumber party and they were stupid enough to actually find real magic. I had a cut on my hand earlier in the day and try to freak them out by adding a little bit of my blood. apparently my protection spell is literally stuck into my soul, so things went down” Sam says just as hesitantly as Damien

 “you have zero leg to stand on okay fine we were both stupid” 

They both sat there in silence for a while, mostly just basking in each other's presents realizing they weren't alone anymore.

“it's good to have you back," Damian says, giving her a weak smile and running his hands through his hair.

He'd been trained out of all of his nervous ticks but it probably makes her more comfortable to see him just as nervous as she is.

“it's good to see you too da- do you have the same name?” both of them don't seem to realize at the same time that they didn't get each other's names. 

“Damien” he says as he pulls his hand out of his hair and puts his hand out for a handshake. 

“Sarah” she says, grabbing his hand and giving it a shake.

the two of them shake their hand for a moment before they look at each other's eyes and burst out giggling. 

Damien's really glad he decided to not pretend to be sick.

[alastorss]

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Alastor comes home to silence.

It's strange considering how much of a night owl you've become since meeting him. The quietness is almost eerie—the long stretch of hall between the staircase and your shared bedroom seeming daunting despite the fact that he's walked it a million times before.

The rest of the hotel is dark, like it's been devoid of life all this time. Even Husk has retired for the night, the bar closed and wiped down.

He wonders if he accidentally waltzed into an alternate dimension.

Shaking his head, Alastor creeps down the hall as to not disturb the other guests between him and the bedroom. The door creaks at the hinges as he slowly pushes it open, not wanting to spook you in case you were awake.

He can't explain it, but warmth fills him from the tips of his ears all the way down to his toes when he finally lays eyes on you.

You've fallen asleep at the desk, head buried in your arms to hide your face from the light of the lamp. Your shoulders rise and fall gently with each soft snore, the blanket sloppily thrown over your shoulders cascading down to the floor to make you look like royalty.

The demon feels his grin shrink into a small smile as he slips behind you to peer at what you were doing before you passed out. Dozens of polaroid photos are lazily scattered around the desk, each one dated in the corner and signed with your name and a heart.

His eyes scan the sprawling expanse of photos, dating all the way back to just before you'd introduced yourselves to each other.

He carefully plucks the sharpie from your fingers and caps it before slipping an arm under your knees and the other behind your back. Hoisting you up and using his hip to slide the chair back into place under the desk, he watches as you stir in his arms for a moment.

Alastor carries you to bed, laying you down and re-fluffing your blanket so that you can cozy into it. He sweeps your hair from your eyes and leans down to kiss your forehead.

"Sleep well, Cher," he whispers.

He's just about to whisk himself away to get ready to join you in bed when he happens across the photos again. Curiosity washes through him and, nosy as ever, he dares to take a peek at what your little project was all about.

The demon is careful not to nick the photos with his claws as he lightly drags them across the film, tracing each memory you captured.

Your first day at the hotel, dangling between Charlie and Vaggie as they took you in like a lost puppy. He's not in the photo, but he still remembers hearing your laughter from the lobby and thinking it was wonderful.

Your first time doing one of Charlie's ridiculous bonding activities, where you confessed that you had no recollection of your life as a human. It wasn't uncommon for new Sinners to have forgotten their lives, after all.

Your first time letting Angel dress you. He had decided to put you in something tight and revealing... that bastard.

Alastor's fingers stop atop a polaroid dated to when you first became friends.

He's distracted, looking at you with an expression he can't even recognize himself. Brows quirked and smile making his cheeks cherub—you snapped the photo in his moment of vulnerability when he normally would have vanished from it instantly.

He continues tracing your face in chronological order, your smile growing in each. And he's in every single one of them, never looking at the camera but instead distracted by you in some way.

"People told me you never like to take pictures," your voice suddenly startles him. He looks at you over his shoulder in surprise. You blink at him slowly through your bleariness, the same smile he's seen in all the photos gracing your face. "But for some reason, you've always been in mine."

Alastor turns around again to scan across all the polaroids you've taken of him, dating up until just last week when you had surprised him his favourite meal.

For a moment it dawns on him that he, a demon, should never have opened himself up so much to you. That you were his greatest flaw. That he was weak around you. The thought leaves as fast as it came when he realizes how soft his smile had gotten around you.

He can't remember ever being this happy even as a mortal walking the earth.

"Al?" You say quietly, now sitting up in bed alert and awake from his uncharacteristic silence.

He's still for another second. Then, he swipes the camera from the desk and makes his way to your side. You barely have time to register what he's doing before the light flashes and the shutter clicks.

The picture prints slow enough for you to finally realize that you had been the subject of his photo.

"What was that for?" You giggle, rubbing your eyes from the blinding light.

Alastor takes the picture and slips it into his pocket.

"I want to remember this," he tells you with a kiss to the top of your head. "A memory for me to keep, dearest."

~

taglist: @the-lake-is-calling @dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice @averylonelysea @bri22222 @cxrsedwxrlds @amarokofficial @anae-naea-zacheria @for-hearthand-home @fantasy-is-best @angixyc @th3-st4r-gur1 @nonbinaryanarchist0013 @dilemmaiscool @concentratedconcrete @squiword7 @clarakainda @princekeerys @cedarrthefluffylee @alastorthirsty @queermaxwooo @readergirlstuff (send an ask to be added!)

[daloy-politsey]

“They’re trying to discharge her constructively. Do you know what Constructive Discharge means?” She asked.

As soon as I heard the term ‘Constructive Discharge,’ I knew I’d never seen it on a vocabulary quiz.

“No. What does it mean?” I asked.

She explained.

“Constructive discharge is a fancy way of saying “being forced out.” It’s not good. And if you’re not a lawyer or in human resources, you’ll probably learn what it means when it’s happening to you.”

“Oh my God. I’ve seen this my entire career and never knew it even had a name.” I thought.

You’ve seen constructive Discharge too. You may have experienced it. We’ve all made choices to avoid it.

Constructive discharge defined

“We can’t fire you, but we’ll make you so miserable you’ll quit, and then we won’t have to pay your unemployment.”

Then there’s the textbook definition:

“A constructive discharge occurs when your employer has made working conditions unbearable, forcing you to resign.”

Or as one person put it.

“I didn’t get handed a pink slip, but when you’re not wanted, people have a way of letting you know.”

HR isn’t always the secret police.

Employees aren’t always victims of evil-doers.

However, employers push employees out all the time to maintain and protect the, “We didn’t do anything wrong, YOU did,” power structure.

Constructive Discharge looks like this:

— Meeting invitations slow to a trickle, and you’re excluded from emails and generally looped out of what’s going on.

— People stop talking to you or stop talking when you walk in.

— Your emails don’t get answers, or they arrive too late to be of value.

— Suddenly, your work is not good enough, though nothing about your work has changed.

— Reviews, once good or even glowing, are now mediocre or bad.

— Instead of a bonus, you get a Performance Improvement Plan.

— Warnings and write-ups start so they can justify your eventual termination with documentation of your “poor performance”

— Your work, clients, assignments go away, or they overwhelm you with work.

— The words “Set up to fail” were practically invented to describe this scenario.

Constructive Discharge is illegal

It isn’t easy to prove you’re a target, and it’s even more challenging if you don’t even know constructive discharge is a real thing.

If you’ve ever experienced this and don’t fully understand what’s happening to you beyond knowing you’re in the process of being excommunicated, it can be hell. It’s not uncommon for the experience to leave long-lasting scars.

Talk to anyone who’s ever been through it. They’ll tell you.

Knowing constructive discharge exists and how it’s used gives you power to predict what’s coming and to protect yourself.

Seeing the endgame helps you in two ways.

You know what to expect. Having a sense of what’s coming next is enormously empowering. You can go on the offensive and protect yourself. Constructive discharge works to crush your ego, making you feel you did something wrong and deserve this treatment.

Without strategy, you end up being a miserable pawn in your employer’s endgame.

Remember, they’re almost certainly building a case to fire you in the event the hellscape they create for you doesn’t persuade you to quit.

If you’re getting pushed out, and you know what to look for you can prove constructive discharge and you can get unemployment benefits, be released from payback obligations on a signing bonus, and protect your mental health.

You’re not crazy, incompetent, or a failure. This is real and it’s carefully executed to leave you holding the bag and feeling like you did something wrong.

If they force you out, in addition to feeling horrible, you lose your paycheck, benefits health insurance, and possibly owe them money.

[wintrwinchestr]

an overture of indulgence (joel miller x f!reader oneshot) 18+

summary: it's been a long time since you've seen joel, and some things have changed, but a lot has stayed the same. namely, how quickly he can still get you on his knees for him, ready to show him exactly just how much you like what has changed about him.

warnings: 18+, smut, post-outbreak, jackson joel, d/s relationship dynamics, pet names (baby, babygirl, sweetheart, sweet girl, etc), body worship, belly kink, talk of weight gain, belly riding, m/f masturbation, lil bit of humiliation kink, lil bit of edging, reader is an adult but age otherwise unspecified, reader is shorter than joel and has hair long enough to grab, let me know if i missed anything :)

word count: 4.3k

a/n: just fuckin outing myself left and right these days huh. idk what came over me with this one. started this late last night and here it is now. belly enjoyers rise!!!!!!! nice comments/reblogs appreciated if you enjoyed <3 you can't kink shame me bc i like getting bullied so now what. also i avoided daddy kink for once in my life please clap. i know i’m spoiling y’all this weekend don’t get used to it.

divider by @saradika

“...Joel?!” you shout, your leisurely walking pace quickly turning into a hurried jog as you leave Tommy behind, making a beeline toward the man you would swear on your life is Joel Miller. A small handful of years ago now, he was kind of your boyfriend, kind of not, kind of something else more complicated and unlabeled, because who can afford to put a label on anything in times like these?

Joel’s head turns in your direction at the sound of his name, and as soon as you spot that crooked scar across the bridge of his nose, you’re certain it’s him.

“Holy shit, I can’t believe it,” you half-cry, throwing your weight into him as you wrap him in a tight embrace. He’s much taller than you, but you still managed to knock him off his balance a little. He envelops your whole body in one of his signature, all-encompassing hugs, and it’s like no time has passed at all.

The two of you had ended whatever it was you had on good terms, no hard feelings or animosity shared between you. It was just hard to maintain any kind of relationship in a world like this, and trying to nurture romance in the Boston QZ was much like trying to grow a rose garden in toxic, radioactive soil. You can put as much care and effort and something like love into it as you have in you, but the circumstances will just never allow it to reach its full potential. The end of your “relationship” was mutual, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. Especially when he had disappeared one day without so much as saying goodbye.

When you had stumbled upon Tommy and a group of patrollers in the snowy forest outside Jackson just earlier today, you were alone, tired, and losing hope that this rumored safe haven even existed at all. You had heard crackles through the radio in the QZ about the community, and even though it sounded too good to be true, what else did you have to lose anymore? After months of travel and survival and pain and hunger, you’d never been so happy to meet a bunch of strangers in the woods in your whole life. You didn’t hesitate to get on the back of Tommy’s horse, and let him lead you to the sanctuary they spoke of.

As he was giving you a tour, proudly showing off their electricity, running water, fresh food, and clean houses, you had started to look forward to what the future may bring, for the first time in a long time. You could never have imagined you’d ever run into Joel again, that this is where he had ended up, of all places. And now here the both of you are, bodies pressed as tightly together as possible, breathing in each other’s familiar scents and never wanting to let go again.

Joel is the first to break the embrace, grasping your head in his large hands and frantically searching your face for any sign that he could be dreaming, that fate hasn’t really brought you back together again after all.

“Jesus Christ, it’s really you,” he breathes, and you swear his voice breaks just a little bit as he presses his lips to your forehead, closing his eyes as he does.

When he blinks them open again, he meets Tommy’s gaze, who’s standing quietly a few yards back from where you’re having your sentimental reunion. Tommy gives an understanding nod, and gestures that he’ll be waiting inside the community’s dining hall, gathering that whatever this is happening between his brother and some girl he only just met, he shouldn’t interrupt. Joel is grateful for many things today, one of them being the rekindled bond he has with Tommy, the other being how you somehow miraculously found your way back to him.

Small groups of other Jackson residents follow Tommy into the dining hall shortly afterward, and as the sun begins to set behind the mountains, Joel realizes it must be about time for dinner to be served.

He detaches his lips from your forehead, brushing some of your hair away from your face as he takes you in again. “You poor thing, must be starvin’ I bet,” he wonders aloud, giving you a sympathetic look.

“Kinda always am, just as a rule, but yeah,” you reply, trying to make light of your situation. Though, Joel doesn’t seem to find the humor in it the way you do.

“Long as you stay here, ain’t ever gotta worry about that again, that’s for damn sure.” He runs his tongue across his lips as he finishes his sentence, already knowing that whatever meal they’re serving tonight, it’ll be some of the most delicious food he’s had in a long time. He suspects you’ll feel much the same. “C’mon, let’s get you inside. Get you warm and fed for once in your life.”

–

Your heart, your stomach, your soul, all feel full as you relax into the comfortable couch in the living room of Joel’s cozy home. He wouldn’t even entertain the idea of you staying in an empty house all by yourself tonight, insisting that if you’d like some company while you settle in, you were more than welcome to his. He had let you spend as long as you wanted to in his shower, and he didn’t mind if there was hardly any warm water left by the time you were done. He sure as hell wasn’t paying the bill, and you deserved to feel truly clean. He can remember clear as day how he felt after his first Jackson shower, like he had stripped off a layer of grime he hadn’t been able to scrub all the way clean in twenty years. He had gone to Maria to get you some clothes and underwear while you were bathing, and set them silently on the sink counter for you to put on whenever you were done.

And now here you sit, feeling full and clean and satisfied and comfortable and safe, watching Joel stoke the logs in his fireplace as it casts the whole room in a honey orange glow. You take a moment to admire him while he isn’t looking, and even in the dim and flickering lighting, you can see he’s just as handsome as he was the last time you saw him. He looks older, with more gray in his longer hair and meat on his bones, the latter trait likely due to years worth of the hearty cooking you both indulged in tonight. He looks… good like this.

“It really is nice to see you again, you know. You look…” you start, not being able to help the way your eyes wander to his soft lower belly, the way it pushes taut against his tucked-in flannel shirt and just barely spills over the edge of his jeans.

He turns his head away from the fire to face you. You’re not very subtle in your staring, and he knows what you’re referring to right away. He huffs a light chuckle, trying to brush off the way he thinks you’re poking fun at him.

“I know, I know,” he acknowledges, placing a hand on his stomach. “Been tryin’ to get Maria to give me some more patrol shifts, see if I can get some of the weight off. But hey, you try havin’ three square meals a day for the first time in twenty some odd years, see what it does to you, huh?” He pivots his attention back to the fireplace, and he seems to turn his body further away from you on purpose, so that you can���t see the round profile of his tummy as much.

“No! No, it, um… It suits you. I was gonna say you look good, actually.” You’re quick in your reply, trying to make it clear that you didn’t mean to offend him, without letting too much on. 

He scoffs. “C’mon, you don’t gotta flatter me, sweetheart. I know I don’t exactly look the way you remember–”

“Joel, will you stop?” you interrupt, your voice laced with exasperation. “I’m being serious. Do I look like I’m making fun of you?”

He cranes his neck to look back at where you’re perched on the couch, and gives you a once over. “Guess not… Look a lil’ like somethin’ else, though, if I'm bein’ honest,” he says with a teasing smirk. And there he is again, the same quick-witted Joel you remember from back in the QZ.

You choose to engage in his banter, just to see where he’s going with it. “Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

He shrugs, beginning to mindlessly poke at the firewood again. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you look like you might like it.”

He’s just kidding around with you, trying to rile you up, you’re sure. But when he gets silence in return instead of the sound of you jumping to defend yourself with another playful jab, he turns to face you once more, and is met with your stunned expression. 

“Oh…” Joel looks down at himself, then back to you again, just in time to catch your eyes flitting from his middle back up to his face. “What, you like ‘em big, sweetheart? ‘S that it?”

The truth is, you do, you always have. It was never a requirement, of course, as the guys you’d been with before Joel all had varying body types. But you’d be lying to yourself if you said that your eyes didn’t linger just a bit longer on guys with a little more to them, with wider arms and thicker legs and a softer middle. You’ve never admitted your preference to anyone before, and Joel calling you out on it now has your face running hot, skin feeling prickly as he sees through you like you’re made of glass.

“I-I don’t– I mean, I do, kinda, but not like that… Well, it is like that, I just mean–” You stumble over yourself, fearing you’ve revealed too much, wishing you could rewind the conversation and just tell him it was nice to see him again, plain and simple.

Joel lays the fire poker down on the granite ledge of the fireplace, approaching where you’re sitting and cupping the side of your face with his calloused hand. 

“Sh, sh, stop, baby. ‘S alright if you do, nothin’ to be ashamed of,” he comforts, and it takes all the willpower you have left not to let your eyes drift down to his stomach, so close you could kiss it, if he’d let you.

“It’s just… I missed you. I thought about you all the time, wondered what ever happened to you after you left. Didn’t even know if you were alive until today. I’m just happy to see you… doing so well. To see that you’re healthy, and everything.” You swallow hard, hoping you sound convincing enough that he’ll let this go, forget all about your little admission just now. But of course, Joel is as stubborn as he’s ever been, and he doesn’t plan on releasing you from his trap now that you’re ensnared in it. 

“That’s sweet, baby, ‘s real sweet,” Joel says, softly, stroking his thumb across your cheekbone as he speaks. “Thought about you too, all this time. Practically every day…” He rakes his eyes over you, noticing the way his touch has you starting to melt already, how you’re looking up at him with your wide, needy eyes. “Why don’t you show me just how much you missed me, hm? How much you love seein’ me healthy, as you put it.”

You’re stunned into silence once again, jaw slack and pupils wide as you search his gaze for proof that he’s just messing with you, making fun of you just to watch you squirm. But you don’t find any.

“O-okay,” you agree in a half-whisper.

Joel smiles down at you, satisfied. “All these years later, still just the sweetest thing, ain’t you? You still just as obedient, too?”

You nod without even thinking, words catching up with your instinctual response a second later. “Mhm, yeah, I am…” You had forgotten how easy it is to submit to him, how good it feels to let the hypnotizing tone of his voice carry you somewhere far away from yourself, when you need it the most. Whether it was after a shitty day of working for shittier rations in the QZ, or after a harsh trek in harsher weather to a forested oasis, Joel always knows how to make you feel like submission is your most natural state. 

“Good… Kneel for me please, sweetheart,” he commands, and you obey immediately, his hand slipping from your face as you slide from the couch onto the woven carpet beneath you. Like second nature, your hands automatically fold themselves on your lap, remembering how you were never to touch Joel until he permitted you to. He takes note of this, and praises you accordingly. “Look at that, didn’t even have to ask. Such a good girl.”

He’s so enamored with you, he almost forgets where he was going with this until he watches your eyes flash to the growing bulge in his jeans, then back up to him. “Not tonight, sweetheart. Was thinkin’ you could put that pretty mouth to use on somethin’ different this time, hm?”

You knit your brows together, not sure what he means, but he doesn’t let you wonder for long. Slowly, he starts to unbutton his flannel shirt, starting at the top and working his way down. He tosses it onto the ground, then pulls his undershirt off over his head, adding it to the other discarded clothing. Without the confines of his slightly-too-tight button-up, you can see how much he really has filled out. Everything about his upper body is just a little more plush, with petal pink stretch marks adorning the soft skin in various places. You want to make it your personal mission to kiss each and every one of them, commit their exact coordinates on his body to memory.

There's a deep scar, you notice, to the left of his belly button, that has almost successfully disguised itself as one of those pretty marks. It’s definitely new since you saw him last, and it looks like it hurt, especially with the evidence of how crudely it had been stitched back together.

“What happened?” you wonder aloud, worried eyes glued to the healed injury.

He has to peer over the curve of his belly to see what you’re looking at. “Long story. Happened on my way out here, after I left Boston. Nothin’ for you to worry about, sweet girl, hardly even hurt. Forget it’s even there, most of the time,” he answers, still with a dominant edge to his voice that does a mostly good job of convincing you it’s the truth.

“Can… Can I?” you ask, waiting to receive his permission before you move your hands from your lap. 

“Yeah, baby, go ahead,” Joel allows. 

You reach out a small hand to gently trace over the raised scar, then press your lips to it with your hands splayed out on either side of your head, just barely pressing into his belly. He releases a soft groan, cradling the back of your head with one of his hands, applying the lightest amount of pressure to let you know this is where he wants to keep you. 

“Why don’t you keep goin’, sweetheart? Gimme some more lovin’ like that, know you wanna,” he encourages, and you think you get the idea now, what it is he wanted to put your pretty mouth to use for.

With his explicit permission to continue, you don’t need telling twice. You move your face to hover just in front of his belly button, admiring the dense salt and pepper happy trail that sprouts from where his jeans push into his soft skin. You drag your tongue along the hair, nipping at the soft curve of where it disappears into the divot in his stomach. He makes a noise in response, half pained and half pleasured, but he doesn’t stop you. Just for good measure, you place a kiss to the little blushing mark where your teeth had scraped him.

Almost of their own volition, it seems, your hands begin to knead at his stomach as you make good on your promise to yourself to kiss every single one of his stretch marks. You allow your tongue to dart from your mouth on the last one, and Joel sucks in a breath.

“Oh, fuck. Forgot how good that wet lil’ mouth feels on me, sweetheart. Keep goin’,” he says, voice coming out strained. His fingers curl tightly into your hair, and he begins to maneuver your face around his belly. You lave your tongue over his skin as he does, slicking him with wet, sloppy kisses. “Yeah, baby, you fuckin’ worship it, show me how much you like me like this.”

It’s a little humiliating, but just enough that you like the feeling. You’re breathing hard and fast, letting out little whimpers as your fluttering cunt begins to soak your underwear. He brings your face to a stop at the most tantalizing part of him, the part that truly evidences how much more he’s allowed himself to indulge since settling in Jackson. The ample curve of flesh that just barely conceals the waistband of his jeans, the part you’ve wanted to get your mouth on since you first saw how it strained the lower buttons of his shirt. You latch onto it, massaging the skin around it as you use your teeth and tongue to suck a mark into him.

A growl rumbles from deep in his chest, and he curses under his breath. “Like it that much, huh? Fuck, naughty thing, look at you.”

You’re so fucking turned on, you’re shivering, rocking where you kneel and squeezing your thighs together in an attempt to get some kind of relief. You let one of your hands drift to the hard shape in Joel’s jeans, and it seems he’s enjoying this as much as you are. He spots your pathetic little squirms as you rut against nothing, and then he’s using his grip on your hair to pull you up from the floor.

“Got an idea. Up,” he commands roughly, and you detach your lips from his belly to obey his order. “Get these off, there we go.” He pulls down your sweatpants and underwear, helping you step out of them. “Christ, you’re soaked,” Joel teases, eyeing the sizable wet spot in your panties as he tosses them aside to join the other forgotten clothing. He reaches a hand toward the apex of your thighs, teasing your wet pussy and gathering some of your slick on two of his fingers. You let out a tiny yelp, but let him play with you, and then he’s bringing his fingers in front of his face and examining the sticky strings of your arousal when he spreads them apart. “All this just from lettin’ you worship all this, huh?” he taunts, patting his stomach once for emphasis. “Who’d’ve thought? Not that I’m complainin’...”

He quickly rids himself of his jeans and briefs, then reclines onto the couch with a quiet groan, stretching out his body along the length of it. Your mouth waters at the sight of his cock, hard and leaking as it bobs against his belly, his precum adding to the dampness still there from your tongue. “Come sit, sweetheart,” Joel says, softly, motioning with both of his hands for you to come closer.

You grip a hand onto the backrest of the couch to balance yourself while you move to straddle him, prepared to sink down onto his length for the first time in way too fucking long. “Uh uh, not there, baby,” he instructs, smirking when he sees how you hesitate in confusion. “Take a seat right here for me.” Again, he pats that most tempting area of his lower belly, and you just about fall apart at the sight of how his flesh ripples in the wake of it.

“Yeah, there you go, good girl,” he praises, both hands gripping your waist as he helps you settle your weight onto his soft abdomen.

“I dunno, don’t wanna hurt you–” you start, but he cuts you off swiftly.

“You won’t, baby. I’m a big man, ain’t I?” he teases, flashing you a devilish and knowing smile. “Go on, sweetheart, ride it.”

You inhale a shuddering breath, then place both of your hands on his shoulders to hold yourself up. You start an experimental buck into his belly, and that trail of dark hair tickles your clit so perfectly. It takes a few tries for you to get the positioning and pressure just right, and then you’re truly riding him, using his full stomach to get yourself off while he watches. 

“God, that’s good. Use it, baby. You love me bigger, love that I’ve been eatin’ so good, prove it to me, c’mon,” Joel goads, and it spurs you on to grind against him harder, faster, as incoherent mumbles and curses tumble from your lips.

“Love it, Joel, you look so good, fuck. So fucking–mmh–so big, makes me so… so–”

“I know it does, sweet girl, I know. Makes you fuckin’ soaked is what it does, god damn. You gonna get my belly all messy, hm? Gonna rub your lil’ cunt all over it, get me all fuckin’ wet?”

“Uh huh, yeah, gonna… I’m gonna–” you whine, eyes shutting tight as your hips pick up their pace. You move your hands from his shoulders to place them on his stomach instead, grabbing at handfuls of his tummy in an effort to create something more solid to rub yourself against. 

You’re already embarrassingly close, the humiliating edge to your earlier worship having gotten you most of the way there on its own. So swollen and sensitive it almost hurts, you won’t need much more to reach your high.

“Not without me, you ain’t. Gonna be right there with ya. You remember how we used to do it?” Joel asks, as if you could ever forget. He’s referring to your many late nights, early mornings, in his bed or in a back alley or wherever in the QZ, where he liked to make sure you both finished at the same time. You’d always be the first one to reach the edge, because he’d focus all his attention on getting you there before him, just to make you wait. It was never something punishing, just something he liked to do as an extra bit of control and dominance, and he knew it always made your orgasms that much more powerful and satisfying when he would finally permit you to let go.

With your eyes closed, so focused on your own pleasure, you hadn’t noticed that he had reached behind you to start fisting his cock some time ago. But you can hear it now, the wet schlick of his hand moving up and down his shaft as he works himself. “Hold it for me, sweetheart, I know you can. Keep rubbin’ your pretty pussy against me, jus’ like that, almost there…”

You mewl, screwing your face up as you force yourself to slow down your thrusts, muscles tense as you try to keep your orgasm at bay for as long as you can. 

Thankfully, he must be worked up enough from seeing you fall apart for him so easily for the first time in so long, that his permission comes just a few minutes later.

“Come for me, babygirl, soak my fuckin’ belly, c’mon,” Joel growls, and you fall forward immediately, twitching and spasming and crying out into the soft muscle of his shoulder as you ride out the shuddering shocks of your orgasm. He groans next to your ear as he comes, and you can feel the warm ropes of his own release as some of them land on your lower back. You’re both wet, heaving messes, as you embrace each other for the second time today and work on catching your breath.

So exhausted from the day you had, you must’ve fallen asleep against his chest as you laid there, because then you’re being woken up by the dull scratch of his fingertips against your scalp and his familiar voice working its way through the thick fog that clouds your tired brain. 

“You alright, baby?” he asks, and you can hear that he’s smiling, amused at this sleepy little thing he’s got clinging to him.

“Mhm, jus’ tired,” you answer, a barely-there mumble of a sentence.

“I’ll bet… You wanna get cleaned up? Get all tucked into bed?”

You shake your head against his neck, and he chuckles.

“No? Whatcha wanna do then, hm?”

“Jus’ lay here. Missed you. Don’t wanna let… go…” 

Your sentence drifts off into silence before the temptation of sleep allows you to finish it, but Joel gets the idea. He smiles to himself, kissing the top of your head, and hugs you closer. Both of you are still sticky and damp, but satisfied. And together again. And that’s a hell of a lot better than the alternative.

So he agrees, and you stay like that for the rest of the night. Joel doesn’t worry about whether or not he remembered to set his alarm clock for his extra patrol shift the next morning, or if he’ll even hear it all the way from his bedroom upstairs, because it doesn’t matter anyway. He has you, and you made it very clear tonight just how much you like him exactly the way he is. 

Maybe, your rose garden can finally begin to bloom, now that the pair of you have somewhere safe and comfortable and healthy to try your hand at nurturing it again.

tag list: @beefrobeefcal @iamasaddie @rebel-held @dilfgestivo @zliteraturehoe @joeldjarin @kamcrazy123 @hellowoolf @rexamongthestars @stevie75 @luxurychristmaspudding @noisynightmarepoetry @mewantpeepaw @pedritoferg (if your name is crossed out, it won’t let me tag you!!)

[intoxicated-chan]

Daryl Dixon request! You and Daryl have just recently got together a few months ago! You and Daryl wander off from the group when you're on the road too look for food water ext, you both get a bit frisky and your sexual tension builds(maybe a bit of bickering), but it’s dangerous, so Daryl takes you against the tree your legs wrapped around him your back against the tree a gun in hand just in case a walker hears, but he’s also kissing you to muffle your moans 💕💕

𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐫

Summary ➳ Daryl fucks you against the tree. (Idk what else to say) 

(A/n) ➳ I am not made to write smut! Most of one-shot is just fluff and only a couple hundred words is smut... I’m sorry.   

Word Count ➳ 1.4k 

Content Warnings ➳ Female reader, sexual content, mainly fluff, little smut, typical TWD violence, swearing, pet names (Sweetheart, darlin’), getting caught but not knowing? Unprotected sex, p-in-v, outdoor sex, creampie... 

“I ain’t gonna say it again.” You pushed Daryl as the two of you walked through the empty streets. “Move your damn ass.”  

“Stop yer damn whinin’.” Daryl retorted. “And I know yer ass ain’t talkin’ crap when ya nearly lost yerself in places like this and I had to find ya.” Finally, he picked up his pace, just like you wanted him to do for the past two hours, maybe more. 

You rolled your eyes, arms crossed and scoffed but quickly shut yourself up when you tripped on your own feet.  

“I heard that.” Daryl commented.  

“Piss off.”  

“Swearin’ ain’t gonna scare me away sweetheart.” He chuckled and stopped, loading his crossbow as he caught sight of a lone walker. “Yer stuck with me.” He murmured, aiming the crossbow with a finger on the trigger.  

“Sadly.” You playfully sighed, standing back as you let Daryl deal with the simple threat.  

How long has it been? Three- no, four? Yes, four months. You both had strayed from the group, a habit you both developed over the past few months, much to the group’s dismay. 

“Top that.” Daryl said, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He walked to the dead walker, putting his foot on its head to pull the arrow out of its skull. “Now, ya sure we ain’t lost?” He asked, wiping the blood from the arrow.  

You shot him a grin, unfolding your arms and placed them on your lips. “Lost? Please, I could navigate these roads blindfolded.”  

Daryl raised an eyebrow. “Remembered that happened when I left ya with Rick.”  

“Please, don’t remind me.”  

“Then stop lyin’.” 

You shook your head. “Then do you have any idea where we’re headed, Dixon?” You asked, as you pulled at the straps of your bag, trying to relieve your shoulders.  

Daryl shot you a glance, his smirk turning into a genuine smile. “Jus’ followin’ the trail, darlin’.” He answered in his trademark gravelly voice. “Ain’t like we got a map or somethin’.”  

“Well, let’s hope your tracking skills are as good as you say they are.”  

He huffed but then laughed, his eyes moving to what’s in front of them for any sign of movement. “Trust me, (Y/n), ain’t no walker gonna sneak up on us while I’m around.”  

Your smile dropped by the sound of rusting in the bushes beside the road. Daryl aimed his crossbow while you unsheathed your knife. Slowly, they approached the source of the noise, ready to attack. 

But you gasped, a small rabbit darted out from the bush, scurrying away into the distance. Daryl lowered his crossbow.  

“Looks like dinner jus’ ran off.”  

You clicked your tongue, sheathing your knife as you reached into your bag. “Guess we’ll have to settle for canned beans again.” 

The two of you decided to make camp when you noted the sunset, and you knew it would be some time before you reached the group. Daryl gathered dry twigs and branches, making a small fire.  

Sitting side by side on makeshift logs, you both shared a meal of canned beans that were heated by the flames. The fire flickered over the silence, luckily, you both were comfortable.  

Though you side eyed Daryl when he refused the spoon, he found it easier to eat with his hands. Daryl looked at you as you ate, noticing the pistol he had given you for protection wasn’t on or near you. “Where’s the gun I gave ya?”  

You hesitated for a moment, scrapping the sides of the can with your spoon. “I... I couldn’t get it to work.” You admitted sheepishly. “It feels like it’s clogged.” 

Daryl sat his half-eaten can of beans to the side and licked his fingers clean. He reached down to your bag to retrieve the pistol, examining it near the fire. His brows furrowed in concentration as he tried to find the issue.  

As he worked, you couldn’t help but stare. The way his rugged features were softened by the firelight, the way his gruff hands moved with such precision... It made you rub your thighs together.  

He was always skilled with his fingers, making you crumble and become weak with just his hands.  

“-Good to go.” Daryl’s voice made you jump, catching the pistol in time before it hit the ground. “Test it out.”  

You looked around. “Here?”  

“There’s a silencer on it for a reason.” 

“And waste bullets?”  

“Ya gonna complain or try it?”  

Daryl pointed at a tree not far but barely visible. “Try it,” he stood, motioning for you to stand. But you just stared at him. “C’mon.”  

You stood and looked where he pointed, it was a tree with a giant rock to its left side. You gripped the pistol and aimed it.  

Daryl moved behind you. “Ya gotta straighten your posture.” He murmured, his voice low, his hot breath hitting your ear. “Like this.”  

Gently, he adjusted your stance, his hands lingering on your shoulders for a moment, longer than necessary. His hands, his voice, his breath... It all sent shivers down your spinel, a sensation that sent a rush down to your cunt.  

“Is this better?” You said, your voice barely audible. 

Daryl nodded, you couldn’t see but there was a faint smirk. “Much.”  

“Should I-” You stumbled when you felt his hands come on your hips, you felt your face starting to burn. “Daryl?’ 

He hushed you. “Don’ think.” He replied softly. “Go on, fire it.”  

“I can’t.” You retorted. “Walkers are nearby-” 

Daryl snatched the gun and pushed you against a tree, you didn’t see it coming. “Guess I gotta keep ya quiet.” He muttered, leaning in. “Think I didn’t notice ya starin’? Oglin’ me? So damn desperate.”  

“Ain’t my fault.” You said, shrugging, trying to act natural. “Looking like a goddamn meal.”  

“Wanna taste?” Again, he spoke in your ear, nearly making your knees buckle.  

“Please.”  

“Then shut up.”  

He used his free hand to pull you in a kiss, the hand that held a pistol remained by the side of your head. You immediately returned the kiss, your arms wrapped around his neck.  

God, he tasted so good. He smelled so good, some fucking how. Or maybe it was your nose playing with you, but you didn’t care. You needed more of him.  

You then jumped on him, using your own strength to keep you upright. It startled Daryl as he didn’t expect it.  

Daryl's hand squeezed your ass, gaining a moan from you.  He pulled back. “Gotta keep quiet for me.” He said. “Think ya can do that?” 

Yu didn’t understand a single word that came out of his beautiful mouth, but slammed your lips against his, becoming addicted to him.  

“Do me a favor.” Daryl hummed against your neck. “Unbuckle my pants for me.”  

Maggie froze in place, lifting his hand up to stop Carol. “Did you hear that?” She murmured, it sounded like a whimper or maybe a moan.  

“Sounds like a person.” Carol responded.  

“Might be survivors.”  

Nodding in agreement, Carol followed Maggie as she cautiously followed the source of the nose. Moving slowly and carefully, her guard was on high alert.  

But she didn’t expect to see Daryl with his pants around his knees with your legs around his waist. The strap of your tank top fell past your shoulders, exposing one of your breasts.  

It looked like his lips were glued to yours, he only took a couple of moments to catch his breath before they were back on you.  

Carol sighed and covered her eyes turning away, honestly, she wasn’t surprised. She just didn’t think you both go as far as to do it out in the open.  

“That doesn’t look comfortable.” Carol commented.  

“It isn’t.” Maggie replied. “Should we-” 

“Let them get it out of their systems.” Carol grabbed Maggie’s arm to walk away.  

Daryl had you up against the tree, your back throbbing from the uneven trunk digging into your skin. Your lips are most likely swollen by now, saliva dripping down your chin. 

There was something thrilling about being fucked out in the open with danger nearby. But there wasn’t a single ounce of fear with Daryl holding the pistol. 

He felt your fingernails digging into him as he fucked you, he was getting off on it. 

Your moans were always cut off, as well as your words. He took pleasure in seeing you getting frustrated.  

Daryl felt your walls tighten around him, desperately trying to hold him in, chasing an orgasm.  

And when Daryl comes, he does it inside. He manages to go deeper than before. You slumped against Daryl, eyes shut.  

“don’ go sleepin’ on me now.” Daryl now had you standing on your feet, his only hand keeping you up as he looked around. “We got a couple hours before day. I say we use ‘em.” 

© Intoxicated-Chan 2024, I do not allow my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or put on any other platform without my permission. 

Taglist ➳ @celtic-crossbow , @mrdixon , @duffmckagansbandana , @raspberryslxt , @lor-geeked , @thegeorgiahuntsman , @snailss , @xmaeyonaiise , @suniloli , @ladylincoln , @of-storms-and-sadness , @annhells , @sexyxdylanxobrien , @TWDgal , @yoowhatthefuck , @oikawarz , @mylifeinthetardisforever , @let-love-bleeds-red , @virginsexgod69 , @scudslut , @theesexystallion , @yondus-girl , @raoudixs , @sleep-queen , @gyustarzzi2 , @stunt-lads , @Lettersfromyourlove ,  

[luveline]

could you please write something where maybe bombshell!reader hears one of the team members teasing about how she’s torturing spencer and she kinda backs off with the flirting and maybe it’s his turn to hold her hand and call her cute names because even though he always says he doesn’t mind, maybe he does and he just doesn’t want to tell her

tysm for requesting, 1k

Spencer's hair is brown silk in the sun. You bite your tongue to hold in a compliment rearing to come out, saccharine and completely true. Looking sweet, Spence. 

You love to compliment him and especially while Hotch is out of earshot. He and Derek play pairs against two agents from a different unit, their tennis racquets a shiny FBI navy. You start to speak and bite it back —a memory flashes, a shouting stop sign. 

You'd been teasing Spencer as he left the room, something about his indecisive hair. He's cut it shorter but left his curls without product, and you love it. 

Poor guy, Emily'd murmured, lips set against the rim of her coffee cup. 

What's the matter with him? you asked, perplexed. 

Nothing, just that he spins into a total meltdown every time you guys are within ten feet of each other. He must be exhausted.

She was joking and you know that, but something deep down worries she's right. It's not fair for you to keep winding him up… Especially when Spencer might be going along with you because he isn't sure how to say no. 

What if you're forcing yourself on him? 

You're sitting together on a small blanket in the grass with Anderson and a few of the other less competitive BAU agents. You bring your bottled iced tea to your forehead to cool down, condensation wetting your hot skin. The top of your head feels as though it has the full concentration of the sun beating against it. 

Spencer looks up at your movement. He's been reading a book for pleasure, or so he says, so he isn't going a mile a minute but he's still way faster than the average Joe. "Do you want to go find some shade?" he asks. 

"You look comfortable," you say, putting your iced tea aside.

Which is to say, I don't want you to come with me, it would disrupt you. Spencer nods and turns to the brown leather of his familiar satchel, popping the buckle open to dig around inside. 

"Do you think this would be okay?" he asks, bringing out his baseball cap. 

The fabric is starchy and the brim stiff as you accept it and wedge it over your head. You don't immediately cool, but your heart spins strange loops. "Thank you," you say. Thank you, handsome, gorgeous, baby, all beg to be said. 

Spencer stays looking at you for longer than normal. 

"Do I have something on my face?" you ask, swatting self consciously at your cheeks. 

"Nothing. You look really pretty," he says. 

"Thank you." Another loop. You point at his book, fingertip hitting a creamy page with a small thud. "Is this any good?" 

"I think you'd really like it, it feels like that last book I borrowed from you, and you loved that. They're very similar. I can lend it to you when I'm done." 

"Don't rush it for my sake."

Spencer gives you a private smile. "I won't. Just because you could watch a movie at two times speed doesn't mean you should." 

Your returning smile isn't half as nice. No shared lightness, no bright eyes. You're feeling awkward and unhappy —you really like Spencer. Like, you think you could be happy together for a long long time sort of like. He's charming and sweet and no one is ever as kind to him as he deserves, which is why you're trying to be kind now by putting distance between you.

You'll be brash forever. You can't change that, and Spencer doesn't need the stress of dealing with you, not on top of everything else. 

His smile fades as yours does. Quiet, without fuss, he scoots back on the picnic blanket, putting you knee to knee. The subtle muscle of his arm presses to yours and his hand wraps gently around your wrist as he dips his head down, his cheek touching briefly to your shoulder. 

"I know it's nice, but if the heat is getting to you we should go inside," he says, his fingers sliding across your palm to slot between your own. He squeezes your hand. "Heat stroke isn't obvious at first. Do you feel woozy?"

You stare at your twined fingers. He surprises you again, being this soft with you, and being uncharacteristically forward. Or maybe not uncharacteristic at all; Spencer won't let something like timidity stop him from comforting someone that needs it. 

"Spence," you murmur, closing your eyes, face angled down. 

"What?" 

"I'm sorry if I… If I've been messing you around. But I don't think this is a good idea." 

"What's not a good idea?" 

You can't make yourself say it. Instead, you rub the back of his hand, more for your own comfort than his, your tongue like a useless lump in your mouth. 

"You're sorry? Are you sure you're okay?" Spencer asks, no heed to the people sitting with you as he lets go of your hand to put his arm behind your shoulder like a shield. 

"I don't want to torture you," you say. 

Your friends love that word. You torture Spencer with your flirting and your easy affection. 

Spencer makes a face, eyes squinting and nose wrinkled. "They're just kidding when they say that. Emily, Morgan, they like making fun of me, it's like, sibling bonding or something. They don't say it because there's actually something to feel sorry about." He lowers his voice, bashful but sincere at once, "If you're torturing me, I guess I'm a masochist." 

You laugh without thinking, a breathless, girlish sound you'd regret if you had the wherewithal. "You're a masochist?" you ask. 

He takes the brim of your borrowed hat and pushes it up to unobstruct the view of your eyes. 

"If that's what it takes," he says. A hint of wryness creeps into his otherwise smooth tone. 

Despite his brave talk and his steady eye contact, his face has started to blush. A rosy hue kisses the tops of his cheeks and his nose, a dusting of pink splodges stark against his paleness. The curve of his lips seems extra tantalising now. He's very, very pretty. 

And he doesn't mind stepping in to take the reins when you're unsure of things. 

"We really should sit in the shade for a bit," he says. "Let's get drinks from the gazebo. Yeah?" 

You're halfway through a nod when he kisses your cheek too quickly for you to respond. You follow him to the gazebo without any more reluctance, weaselling your hand back into his, and attempt to pull another kiss from him.

[dollyhao]

succubus!reader x nerdy!ellie

summary: ellie is desperate to lose her virginity that has been looming over her her whole college career.

toni’s note: i made it guys! i promised this back in october and it’s the end of january… but it’s here.

cw: this is pure smut, no plot at all lol. 1.8k words

༊*·˚

ellie has not a single regret about what she’s about to do. ellie is in college and is still a virgin, at this point she didn’t think she’d ever lose her virginity. until one of her friends joked that she should summon a sex demon, that it was ‘the only way she’d get laid’. it wasn’t meant to be taken seriously, but desperation makes people do crazy things.

she read in an old book she found in the library about one in particular, the book had a picture of you drawn in and ellie thought you were absolutely gorgeous and perfect for her. what was the worst that could happen?

ellie lights the candles around the circle she made on her bedroom floor. she chanted your name 5 times like the book told her, then after 20 seconds the candles all blew out and a gust of purple smoke floats in the air. you pop out the smoke looking even more perfect than the book describes.

“who dares summons me?” you say in this slow sensual voice that ellie feels course through her body. you look around the room you were summoned in before your eyes rest on a short girl with black rimmed glasses on her face. ellie is looking at you with those pretty green puppy eyes, mouthed formed into an o shape.

“a girl? well thats new,” you walk closer to ellie sizing her up. “your cute… tell me what you want from me.” “i-i,” ellie is literally speechless. shes staring up at you, the lady demon whos probably gonna take her virginity. you have long horns on your head and a cute skinny tail, but the best part is that your completely naked. breast out in the open, nipples standing at attention, nothing covering your cunt and it’s just begging for ellie to drop to her knees to taste you.

“did you call me here to waste my time?” you ask her putting your hands on your hips with a quirked brow. “no no! i-i want you to take my virginity.” ellie says playing with her fingers. you hum, “ok ill do it. but you have to sign a contract-” “yes yes! anything!” you spawn a paper out of thin air, “dont you wanna know what your agreeing to?” but by the time you finish your sentence ellie has already signed the paper.

after she is done signing, the paper disappears. “i wanna let you know i-i’ve never done this before. well i almost did in my fourth year of highschool but that was a missed opportunity-“ ellie’s nervous rambling was cut off by you running your hands over her shoulders and ripping her shirt open exposing a blue sports bra underneath. ellie gapes at you, suprised at the sudden intrusion. you push the ripped shirt off her shoulders. “do you wanna touch me?” you say voice softening seeing how nervous the poor girl is.

she nods vigorously trailing her hands up your tummy to your breast. “you can touch me however you want.” you say smirking at her. ellie feels like she can hear your voice inside her head, a slow sensual voice with a rasp that can only be described as wild and sexy. she feels a rush of arousal pulse through her as she pushes you to lay on her bed. your eyebrows shot up, you feel her start to kiss down your stomach swirling her tongue around your navel before her head dips between your legs.

you buck slightly when you feel her inexperienced tongue flicking all around your cunt. she takes your clit into her mouth rolling and flicking her tongue all around it (like they do in the videos she watched before the summoning). you can feel her breathing heavy against you. she pushes two experimental fingers into you feeling how wet and tight you were. you taste sweet like honey and something else addictive that ellie can’t name, ellie suspects its part of your demon powers.

you grab her hair squeezing your legs around her head trying to contain your moans, no human has ever made you feel so good. you might just… like this girl. she’s cute and gentle. and she looks at you like your aphrodite instead of a sex demon.

you feel yourself about to cum when you push her head from between your thighs. ellie is looking at you, chin covered in your juices looking pussy drunk with her glasses fogged up. “are you ok?” she asked you, looking genuinely concerned. you want to coo at her but instead you flip her over taking place in between her legs this time. you peer up at her with this look that looks like you want to devour her. you pull down her sweat pants and underwear licking your lips at her slick pussy.

you give her clit a sweet kiss before using your thumb to rub circles on it. ellies moans out loud when she feels your abnormally long tongue enter her. your tongue is reaching places her fingers couldnt possibly reach. she chants you name which only encourages you to move your thumb faster on her clit. ellie grabs your horns and pull before locking her ankles together keeping you still as she grinded on your tongue feeling the knot in her stomach ready to explode. you let out a groan as ellie tugs on your horns. “im so close.” she says before her body goes rigid.

you pull away from ellie, swallowing her essence, seeming to have had an energy boost. “is there anything else you wanna try?” you say rubbing up and down her legs. she nods getting off the bed grabbing a box from under it. in the box are sex toys but ellie pulls out a girthy purple strap. “oh,” you say eyes widening, “you wanna use that on me?” you ask with that same sensual tone from the beginning. “yes.. please”

she puts the strap on before she feels you push her down on the bed straddling her. you hover over her dick grabbing it and running it up and down your slick cunt. “you want me to fuck you?” you say placing a hand on her chest still hovering over her. ellie nods her head grabbing your hips panting in anticipation, “yes please…” “ask nicely,” you say leaning down licking and biting her ear. “please fuck me. please.” ellie says bucking her hips. the tip of her dick pushes into you, you moan sitting completely on ellie’s cock.

you are bouncing and riding with no sign of slowing down. ellie is running her hands over your body, transfixed at the way your breast bounce as you ride her. when she sits up, she wraps her arms around your waist, holding you close to her as she kisses your neck and chest leaving marks.

you grab ellie’s face, tilting her head to the side so you can have access to her neck. you use your tongue to lick and suck marks into her neck until you get a little too excited and nick her neck drawing blood. ellie let’s out a groan followed by a guttural moan, completely dazed. you lick at her neck getting all the blood up before humming and planting a kiss on the mark.

ellie is gripping your ass meeting your thrust with her own desperate ones. “are you close?” ellie asked desperately, leaning to kiss you again. “very.” you coo out, kissing her using that long muscle of yours, twirling your tongue around hers.

you let go and ellie is staring in awe at the beautiful look you made while cumming. she lays back on the bed, exhausted and satisfied. when she feels your very sharp nails trail up her stomach and latch at her sports bra causing it to rip as if it was being cut by scissors. “more.” you whisper with a wide grin.

“what?” ellie asked wide eyed. “i want more. i think im going to keep you.” you whisper in her ear.

༊*·˚

I, Ellie Williams, am allowing succubus y/n to take on a human form and co habitat with me. I will fulfill her needs of sex so that she may stay by my side and use me for a long as she wills.

signed: ellie williams

[onlymingyus]

Somebody [SVTHUB world tour collab] (teaser)

pairing; choi seungcheol x f!reader

genre; smut (minor dni), fluff, angst, romance, fake dating au

summary; When you need someone to help you out of a bind quickly, you pick the first person you see to be your “boyfriend”, you just didn’t expect it to be your single hot dad neighbor, Choi Seungcheol…

content warnings; single father!seungcheol, teacher!reader, seungcheol has a child (obviously), eating/drinking, jeonghan/joshua (implied relationship but not stated), betting metioned, alcohol, medical field - doctor!seungcheol, doctor!joshua, mentions cheating in past relationship, mentions death/accident of spouse - widow!seungcheol --- i am sure there are more, if there is anything important you want me to add let me know

smut warnings; unprotected sex (birth control mentioned), creampie, fingering, oral (f receiving), begging, crying (pleasure), multiple orgasm, lots of pet names, marriage kink, seungcheol carries the reader and is larger than the reader, manhandling, shower sex...again if I miss something let me know.

w/c; 25.2k and some change (623 extra words for patreon bonus) [1.1k this teaser]

svthub world tour masterlist

a/n; thank you to my @junkissed for proofreading for me once again, i love you so so much. i really hope you guys enjoy my little addition to the svthub world tour and those on tumblr will join me in Barcelona for the bonus 💕

this fic will be released 7/15 at 3 pm est to read it now subscribe to my patreon and click here

Forcing a smile on your face after a long day, you stand up as the bell rings and parents start to move into the room to collect their children. Taking your time, you note each one, telling them to have a good evening and that you will see them in the morning. 

It wasn’t that you hadn’t enjoyed your day, but you could feel a headache behind your eyes and fifteen screaming five year olds was a lot for anyone. So as the numbers started to dwindle, you could feel the anxiety starting to fade from you. 

“Hey, buddy!” 

Glancing up as Matthew squeals happily, you watch him run towards a slender but fit man that you vaguely recognize. Perhaps he had been on Seungcheol’s walls in one of the pictures, but you didn’t have a name to put—

“Uncle Jeonghan!”

Ah, so this was Uncle Jeonghan that Matthew talked about so much. Picking up your clipboard, you furrow your brows, moving over to him and the man as you quickly make sure the man’s name is listed as someone authorized to pick up. 

“Have a good day? This must be Miss Y/N that your daddy talks about all the time.” 

Lifting your head from the clipboard, you meet the man’s eyes as your cheeks start to burn. Opening your mouth, you close it quickly as he smirks at you and ruffles the boy's head as he clings close to him. 

“I—Yoon Jeonghan? If you could just sign for Matthew, since you're not his legal guardian and only listed as an authorized person, it’s policy.” 

Taking the clipboard from you, Jeonghan grins as you seem to shy away at his words. He could see the appeal. You were beautiful and seemed responsible. You were exactly Seungcheol’s type. 

“No problem; Y/N. Cheol had to work in the ER today so here I am to save the day. I honestly don’t know why he didn’t just ask you to bring him home.” 

Scoffing in surprise, you watch as Matthew gasps and looks up at you like a new toy. 

“That’d be so cool! Miss Y/N, can you one day? I can show you my toys.” 

Not wanting to disappoint the boy, you give him a strained smile and meet Jeonghan’s eyes, realizing he was an enabler. Seungcheol should have warned you about him, but maybe he didn’t even realize how your first meeting with him would go. 

“Maybe… I’m your teacher, Matthew. We play at school—” 

“Well and his neighbor and his daddy’s girl—” 

Shaking your head, you watch as Jeonghan bites his lip to stifle a laugh before nodding and holding up his free hand as a way of surrendering. Apparently Seungcheol had shared some details of your “relationship” with his friend. You wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out, but you had a feeling this man was the type to pull you out and back into the spotlight. 

“Maybe one day, Matthew... but let’s not get our hopes up.” 

Pouting up at you, Matthew just nods and moves away from you both to go get his things. Letting out a breath, you take back your clipboard and put it down on a shelf behind you as you and Jeonghan glance towards the small boy as he pulls on his jacket. 

“He’d let you take him home.” 

Furrowing your brows, you glance over at Jeonghan and shift on your feet at his words and the implication behind them. Noticing how you seem to nervously shift from foot to foot, Jeonghan smirks and glances down at his phone in his hand, answering a text from Seungcheol as he speaks to you. 

“One day he’ll man up and ask you out for real. This fake dating shit—” 

“Don’t curse in my classroom, please.” 

A laugh slips from between his lips as he glances up from his phone to offer you an apologetic smile before nodding and continuing. 

“Sure, sorry. As I was saying, this fake dating nonsense you two have going on right now isn't going to work. I can already tell you like him.” 

Insufferable. That's how you’d describe Yoon Jeonghan. You had known him for less than ten minutes and already you knew he was going to be an issue in your life. Crossing your arms, you start to sigh into your words, a dramatic big breath, when Alex’s voice once again ruins your moment. 

“Matt, buddy, let me help.” 

Jeonghan watches as your head moves like prey sensing a predator towards the other teacher, who was now helping Matthew with his bag. His eyes move to his godson’s face as he grimaces as the man tugs on the straps, keeping them tight on his arms. 

“He’s fine, Mr. Alex. Thank you.” 

You still sounded like yourself, with that sweet tone to your voice, but even Jeonghan could hear the hint of malice behind it. So this was Alex, and now Alex thought it was okay to mess with Seungcheol’s son. The “fake” dating made sense. This man did not understand boundaries and used everything in front of him as an open door. 

Stepping in front of Alex, you smile at Matthew and the smile transfers to the boy’s face. Jeonghan feels relief wash over him at the sight as you kneel down, adjust the straps back to where they were and then tie his shoe properly. 

“I was just helping out a student, Miss Y/N.” 

Oof… There was so much tension in this room that even Jeonghan felt like he was going to drown in it. Stepping forward, he clears his throat and offers his hand towards Matthew, letting him take his fingers. 

“And while I’m sure she appreciates that, and the parents do... I don’t know you, Mr. Alex, was it? From where I was standing, some strange man was touching my godson, which honestly made me nervous for a moment. I’d be more careful; this isn’t your classroom.” 

Standing up, you feel your cheeks burn under Alex’s eyes as he looks to you to defend him, but you don’t. Jeonghan had a point. Not every parent or guardian knew who all the teachers were, not even the students knew the other teachers. Simple acts could be misunderstood and while he was doing something to “be nice” and it was innocent, you knew there was another reason he was inserting himself into your and Matthew’s lives. 

“Well, I do apologize for the misunderstanding. My classroom is right down the hall. I was just coming to see Miss Y/N. We are very close.” 

Jeonghan just smirks at the man and shoots you a glance before looking at his phone and seeing a reply from Seungcheol. 

“I’m sure you are.” Dismissing the man, he looks at you and smiles brightly. “Y/N, dear… Cheol asked me if you wouldn’t mind helping me with Matthew once you get home? I’m an awful cook.” 

Opening his mouth to say something, Alex stops when Matthew squeals with delight and grabs at your shirt, begging you to come over. 

Another point to you and Seungcheol. 

READ THE FULL FIC NOW ON PATREON

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[morallygreyyn]

Can i pls get some clingy ass illumi x reader who hasn’t seen them in days because of his missions?

Have a nice day!! Make sure to drink water💓

miss me? (illumi zoldyck x reader)

description: illumi has been gone for a week and when he returns, he seems slightly off. it didn't take you long to realise that he wanted attention, namely yours...

authors note: another super old ask but i love this one with all my heart and soul. illumi? stunning. clingy illumi? immaculate. seriously there is nothing i love more than illumi so this is how i think he would be when he's clingy and wants attention! have a lovely day anon and i really hope you drink lots of water! (seriously i've just found out how important this is so pls everyone drink lots of water to flush out that bacteria) 💗

warnings: none

word count: 1.1k

requests are open! please read my rules!

You hadn’t seen Illumi Zoldyck for the better part of a week. While you were used to the assassin leaving often for work, usually you were in a position to follow him. This time, however, was one of the rare occasions where you had to stay home at your apartment, all for that blasted electrician who kept cancelling on you. If he called you one more time to cancel, while you stayed home when you could have followed your boyfriend to a sunny location that you would have treated like a holiday, you swore you would hire the Zoldyck yourself to track him down. 

As though he had heard your silent threat, the electrician came and went, and your kitchen appliances were once again fully operational. Happy that you could finally restock the fridge, you left to get groceries. You couldn’t admit this out loud, but your apartment often felt too empty without the assassin occupying it too. While he didn’t own the space where you lived, he stayed there often enough that he may as well share it with you. 

It had surprised you when you brought up the offer of living together and he didn’t reject the idea immediately. Illumi actually seemed contemplative, as though it was almost a pleasant thought. That was what you assumed anyway, you could never truly tell what he was thinking most of the time. 

By the time you returned home, you knew something was different immediately. For one, you were certain that you had locked the door. Cautiously stepping into the apartment, you coiled and prepared to strike whatever or whoever was lurking. Despite not being an assassin, you were still a qualified Hunter, and those licences did not come easy.

It turns out that you needn't have bothered as, when you approached the living area, Illumi was sitting calmly at your kitchen island watching you. 

“Oh, Illumi!” Setting down your bags, you ran to him, throwing your arms around your boyfriend as you held him tightly. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming back?”

“No signal.” He said simply as he let you hug him, hands gingerly settling around you. You had to fight tooth and nail for him to learn how to hug properly, and even now he still hadn’t quite managed to perfect the act. Despite this, he still tried, and that was good enough for you. 

Pulling away, you looked at him with a smile. “How was it?”

He shrugged, a clear sign he was disinterested in the topic. “Simple.”

Nodding, you stepped back to put the groceries away, not wanting them to rot on the floor. Illumi sat back down, fathomless eyes locked on you while you completed the task you had set for yourself. You liked to think that you knew the Zoldyck rather well, and that included when something was bothering him.

Turning around, you raised an eyebrow as you met his gaze. “What?”

“What?”

“You’re staring at me.”

“Why are you pointing that out?”

“Because I’m wondering why.”

“I stare at you a lot.” He stated, tone very matter of factly.

“I know, but now it seems different.”

“It isn’t.”

“If you say so, darling.” You rolled your eyes and finished putting the food away. Once you had, you turned to face your boyfriend once more, looking for an explanation.

“You forgot something.” Illumi said, and while his voice was the usual light and expressionless one, his eyes still bore into yours.

Looking around, you couldn’t see anything out of place, and you had certainly left nothing on the counters. “What did I forget?”

Illumi didn’t answer, only continued to look at you expectedly. Now you were really confused, and slightly unnerved by his odd behaviour. Illumi rarely acted like this.

With no answer to give you clarity, you grinned in feigned annoyance, kissed his cheek and whispered you were happy to have him back before you left to head into the room you used as an at home office. 

Sitting down at your desk and opening your files, you stared blankly at the screen while you mentally observed Illumi’s behaviour. There was something amiss, and you couldn’t put your finger on what. He wasn’t usually the expressive one; well, he was never the expressive one. All physical, verbal, and emotional affection fell on your shoulders to deliver. While this may seem one sided to most, you didn’t mind as you knew Illumi was not able to express much by way of love. Despite this, you knew he loved you, in his own way. He had threatened to kill the electrician for you when you complained about the situation to him, and that spoke millions. Not only that, but he also allowed you to be as affectionate as you are with him, and he accepted it whereas anyone else wouldn’t have a chance in hell of even approaching him, let alone the things you did together.

What was bothering him?

Just then, you saw a shadow move in your peripheral vision, and your heart dropped to your ass. “Fucking hell, Illumi! At least knock!”

He ignored your outburst. “What are you doing?”

“Working.” You said as you willed your heart to calm down.

“Oh.” Illumi stayed standing behind you, hovering ominously. 

Then it clicked, Illumi was being clingy. This was how he acted when he wanted attention. Unable to control yourself, you laughed loudly at the realisation.

“What?” He asked, watching you stand from your seat to face him.

Your smile was incredibly smug as you approached, wrapping your hands around his waist. “Did somebody miss me?”

Naturally, he didn’t respond and it might’ve been your imagination, but he seemed to relax under your touch. 

“I think I know what I’ve forgotten.” You captured your lips with his own, smiling as you did so. It was moments like this that made you realise that Illumi did in fact love you, and that he was quite attached to you. Even if he didn’t show it much, his hands resting on you, the slide of his lips against your own, the way he seemed unwilling to let you go spoke for him.You pulled away for a moment, bringing a hand up to caress his cheek. You had the Illumi Zoldyck as your lover, and no matter what anyone said, he loved you. “Miss me?”

[jellyfishbug]

POP THE HOOD F'ME

pairing. chris x reader genre. smut with plot. MDNI. word count [5.2k]

content; mechanic!chris, flirty!chris, smoking (they share a cig), sex with a stranger ig? semi public, car head (m recieving), face fucking, big dick chris, reader has an eyebrow piercing, use of pet names, dirty talk, swearing

Maybe it was just dumb luck.

My dad has been promising me that his old ford pickup was gonna be mine when I got my license since I was ten. However, not long after my sixteenth birthday, he randomly decided that his promise had conditions.

I had to fix it myself.

I had been putting off working on it for years. I just didn't have the time, and it needed a lot of work. The list of things to be fixed was long, and I knew if I started then, I wouldn't have finished.

Finally, the time presented itself for me to start. I finally had a summer that wasn't so busy, so I decided in May of this year I was finally going to do it.

I was finally going to get my own truck.

So I did; I worked on it for two long months. Two long months spent in the garage on my back under the heavy pickup with my hands covered in soot and oil whilst sweat dripped down my face. Two long months spent fixing the paint job and fiddling around under the hood, my hair tied back to keep it off my neck while the sun beamed through the opened garage door.

I finally felt confident enough to take it out for a test drive today. It was starting fine in the garage, and I'd driven it around the block a number of times without fail.

I excitedly hopped in the driver's seat and shut the heavy door, jamming my keys into the ignition and grinning at the sound of the roar when the engine started. I made it pretty much across town without a single problem, and I thought I was in the clear.

So, maybe it was just dumb luck when not even an hour later, here I am, standing on the side of the road next to said pickup with the hood popped and smoke coming out of the cabin.

Or maybe, just maybe, it was dumb luck when I realized I was only three blocks away from an auto shop, and a guy pulled over to help drag my car there.

It felt like forever when we finally reached the parking lot. The red and white sign that hung over the opened garage doors read 'sturniolo's auto-repair".

For the most part, the slots were empty, except for a 58' baby blue Impala that was suspended off the ground, and a brand new silver Subaru outback that sat right next to it.

As we finally pushed it into the open slot on the far end of the garage, I let out a sigh of relief, wiping the sweat off my forehead with one hand and letting them both rest at my sides.

I thanked the stranger for his assistance and he wished me luck, mumbling about how much a repair on a truck like this was going to cost before wandering off. I scowled at him as soon as he turned away from me.

Walking away from the smokey and damaged shell of a car, I pushed open the clear glass door into the entry-way of the shop, and the sound of the ringing bells that were carefully tied at the top of the door filled my ears.

Near the desk stood two boys, both were brunettes that roughly stood at the same height. The first was wearing a red toyota nascar cap backwards over his brown hair, as well as a black tank top and a navy blue mechanic's suit that hugged his frame. The name patch on the chest of it read "Matt". He was speaking to another customer, flailing the rag around as he emphasized his points with his hands.

The other was standing behind the counter, a gray bandana tied around his head. He wore a navy blue button up that he left completely open with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, making the white tank top he wore under it visible.

The name patch on his chest read "Chris", and a white rag was thrown over his shoulder. A plethora of keys were hooked to a red carabiner that hung around the belt loop of his jeans. The desk hid his lower half below his waistline, and as I stepped closer, I saw a toothpick in between his teeth and his eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he jotted down words on a yellow notepad with a pencil.

I slowly walked up to the desk, my arms at my sides. He didn't raise his head to look at me, he just continued writing, so I cleared my throat.

His head shot up, and his expression fell into embarrassment.

"Fuck- sorry, I didn't hear you come in. How long ‘v you been standing there?"

I laughed lightly and shook my head. "Not long, I just walked in."

A smile painted itself onto his face as he set the pencil down and put his hands in his pockets just far enough that his thumbs still stuck out. "What can i do for ya?" He asked kindly, the toothpick in his mouth moving as he spoke.

"My truck broke down three blocks ago and wouldn't start. I tried looking under the hood to see the problem, but it was smoking, so I pushed it here." I explained, my hands finding each other and clasping together at my front.

He raised his eyebrows and tilted his head slightly. "Jesus, you wheeled it all the way here?" He asked, laughing breathily when I nodded my head in response. "Atta girl. What kind of truck is it?"

"A ford pickup," I responded all too quickly, my voice strained as I tried to ignore how my heart swelled in my chest from the impressed look on his face. He nodded as he opened the drawer next to him and pulled out a ballpoint pen, picking up the notepad once again to start writing. "What year and license plate?"

"85', boston plate, the number is 289 BTO. " I watched as he wrote mindlessly, the handwriting barely coherent.

"'M kay, I'll take a look at it for you." he said, setting the notepad and pen back down on the counter. He opened his palm, gesturing for my keys, and I dropped them into his grasp. He hooked the ring that held them together around his index finger.

"Wait here, should only be a couple minutes."

I nodded as he circled around to the end of the desk, walking past me and pushing open the door to the garage.

His absence gave me a chance to examine the decor of the office space. Family and baby portraits crowded on top of the counter below the window behind the desk. A mickey mouse clock sat above the side door, and a large OPEN sign hung in the window.

The wall was crowded with plates and signs. One that caught my eye was an eagle with its claws digging into a hanging mirror, the name HARLEY DAVIDSON displayed in bright orange letters above the eagle's head. Next to the register was a small bell with a sign that said "ring for service" and the words 'don't actually' were scribbled in sharpie above.

Just when I was getting lost in thought, I heard the door bells jingle a second time, and Chris walked back in. The rag was now hanging loosely in his palm as he approached the counter. He stood right next to me, reaching over for the notepad and throwing the rag back over his now bare shoulder, which is when I realized he had discarded his button up. My eyes dart down to see the keys to my truck now hanging on a different belt loop on his jeans.

"From what I can see," he starts, popping the cap of the pen off and leaving it in between his teeth as he spoke. "It looks like a coolant leak. The combination from the antifreeze leaking and the heat of the engine is enough to make it smoke, but it's not enough to cause the engine freeze up." he explains, his eyes meeting mine every couple of words to make sure i understand. "So, it could also be a fuel pump problem combined with the leak."

I nodded, chewing my lip nervously as he went on to explain the time the repair would take as well as the cost. When the words, "not finished until at least tomorrow" left his lips, I huffed in defeat, and tried to make my disappointment less evident as i crossed my arms in front of my chest.

"How long have you had it?" He asked, now leaning against the counter next to us with one elbow, crossing one foot over the other.

"I've only started to work on it this summer, but it's been my dads since before i was born."

He nodded. "It's a pretty ride," he confessed. "I honestly expected it to look worse when you said 85', but the conditions not bad. You been workin' on it a lot?"

"As much as I can." I shrugged.

He complimented the paint job, to which i confessed i'd done it, and he gushed. "Christ, you should work here. Matt can't paint to save his life. You could probably get him out of a job,"

Matt sent a glare his way. "Shut up, kid. Dad would fire you over me any day, especially if you keep sleeping in."

Chris laughed, a genuine sound that made Matt's glare turn into a small smile before he went back to rifling through the file cabinet.

He turned back to me, pausing to look back over the notes he'd written down. "If i had to guess, I'd say we can probably have it to you by tomorrow evening." he said, looking away from the paper and averting his gaze to instead look me right in the eye. "That work for you?"

I nodded slowly. Suddenly, the issue of a ride home became extremely apparent, and an anxious feeling started to blossom in my chest.

"Good. Just one more thing. . ." he pauses to take the pen cap out of his mouth and place it back on the pen, tapping it against the curve of his hand and grinning wildly at me.

"i'm gonna need your number to let you know when its finished."

He's just asking because he's supposed to; because he literally has to in order for me to get my car back. But regardless, i felt heat rise to my cheeks as i started shifting uncomfortably in place.

"Right," I said, moving to reach for the pen. He points to a blank part of the notepad, tapping lightly to tell me where to write it.

Quickly and shakily, i write out the numbers with dashes. I hand it back to him, and a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. He rips the sheet off the notepad in one swift motion and folds it in half, placing it in his back pocket.

He glances towards the clock. Its nearing seven. He turns back to me, "d'you have a ride home?"

My eyes went wide. I'm reminded of my attempt to call my dad three times when the truck initially broke down, and how my shoulders slumped in defeat at the sound of his voicemail playing repeatedly.

I glance back over to him, ". . . Not exactly. I'll probably just catch the bu-"

"I can drive you,"

I swallowed, my lips slightly parted in surprise. His grin was still wide, awaiting my response.

It was a sweet offer, really. But considering my house was across town, partnered with the fact that he was literally on the job, i shook my head. "That's really sweet, thank you, but I'm far. And you're working, anyway." He shrugs, glancing at the clock once more. "It's fine, Matt's on desk duty and he's closing tonight. I don't mind."

I chew my lip. I'd be stupid to pass up on a ride, but i barely know this kid, and if my dad sees me rolling up with him and no truck, it wouldn't look great.

And then I think about the hour long bus ride that would be in the near future if I declined.

I screw my eyes shut. "You know what? Why not."

Despite the scenario i was in, my mind was pushing out any and all nerves as I watched Chris collect his things from behind the desk. He pulled his wallet, shop keys and jacket out of a cubby.

The two of us walked back into the garage and over to Matt, who was washing his hands in a sink bellow the tool shelves.

Chris bid goodbye to his brother, who looked at the clock and then frowned, turning the faucet off and reaching for the roll of papers towels.

"You're seriously slacking off? I already covered for you and Nate leaving early last weekend." He complained, discarding the wad of paper towels he'd used to dry his hands into the trash bin below.

Chris shot him a look. "And then i covered your sunday morning shift because you were hungover. You owe me."

Matt rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just put your tools away when you open tomorrow. It drives me fucking insane when you leave them everywhere."

Chris salutes. "Roger that." He turned to me and winked, gesturing to follow him through the garage with a tilt of his head.

I followed behind him as he went out a different exit; this one leading to a parking lot on the back of the building. A large EMPLOYEE PARKING sign hung on the fence near the driveway.

He fiddled with the many keys on his carabiner before finally finding his and walking towards a car near the opening in the gate.

A blue, four-seater, convertible 65' mustang. The light from the setting sun literally reflected off of it. He mindlessly stuck the key into the passenger side door, twisting and pulling it open with a faint click.

He gestured his hand towards the seat playfully, "Ladies first."

I rolled my eyes, placing one foot on the floor of the car and ducking my head to sit down. "How gentlemanly of you,"

He grinned at me, closing the door and walking around the back of the car before popping into the driver's seat.

"This is.. wow." I mutter, admiring the small details and cleanliness of the car as he closed his door and threw his belongings in the back. "Jesus, this is yours?"

He smiled proudly, his tongue darting out to dampen his bottom lip. "All mine,"

His fingers twisted the key into the ignition and the roar of the engine made the car buzz against my feet. He rolled both of our windows down, the summer air blowing smoothly through the car.

His smile was wider and prouder than ever as he glanced into the rear view mirror, throwing an arm over the back of my seat to glance behind him as he reversed. We pulled out of the parking lot and turned left onto the main road, Chris letting the steering wheel slide back into place under his palm by itself once he'd done so.

"You said you were far," he mumbled. "What area are you in?"

The question pulled me back into reality. I'd gotten so distracted by the way he drove so carelessly, like he was completely relaxed and in control of everything movement the car made, like fear didn't even exist to him as he pressed harder onto the gas pedal with his foot, my eyes choosing to ignore the way the tic on the speed meter start to spike.

His jawline was illuminated in the dim light, and the toothpick that was still resting on his lips stayed moving as he spoke gently, waiting patiently for me to answer.

I started giving him directions, and he listened carefully and intently, glancing over to look at me to make sure he understood my instructions. Once we were on the freeway, he went even faster, lane switching if someone in front of him wasn't going as fast as he'd like them to.

Soft giggles left me as he did, basking in the view of his lips parted into a smile, showcasing pearly teeth between pink lips.

Once he pulled onto the off ramp and we were stopped at a red light, he turned to look at me again, the bright red turning the car a faint shade of crimson.

"What time do you need to be back?"

He asked with a tone of voice he hadn't used till now. The sudden lowness caught me off guard as I shrugged, "'Dunno, not for a while."

He hummed in acknowledgement. "You wanna stay on the road for a bit?"

I pull my knees up to my chest and let my head fall against the headrest, a careless smile on my face. "Definitely."

And we did; we ended up back on the highway pretty quickly, blasting music through a speaker Chris had propped against the dashboard.

His speed only got higher and higher as time went on, carelessly resting one hand on the wheel whilst the other gripped the gear shift. At some point, his hand had mindlessly traveled to rest on my upper bare thigh below the hem of my shorts, cold and partially ringed fingers pressing against my skin.

"Will you do me a favor?"

I raised my eyebrows and hummed in response. He gestured towards the glove box. "Theres a pack of camel blue 99s in the glove box, would you grab em for me?"

I bit my lip. "Depends, you sharing?"

"Duh."

I leaned forward, feeling my stomach flip when his hand didn't much as move an inch on my thigh, brushing against my lower stomach as I lurched forward to fiddle with the glovebox.

I propped it open and grabbed the pack and paused, "d'you have a light?"

He nodded. "Should be one in there."

I learned more forward and reached farther back, glancing around before locking my eyes on a silver flip top lighter and grabbing it. Once i lean back up, Chris is pulling into an empty lot. His hand leaves my leg to push the gear into park, and i try not to frown.

I flick the top of the cig carton open and hastily pull one out, dropping it into Chris's palm.

He places it hazardly between his lips and turns to face me, silently asking for me to light it.

I pop the lid of the zippo open and hold the flam to the end of his cig, waiting to pull away until his expression signifies that its lit enough. His expression relaxes as he breathes in before pulling it away from his mouth with two fingers and exhaling, the smoke filling the car.

"If I'm honest, I prefer marlboro reds." I say quietly in an attempt to break the silence, watching Chris flick the ash out the window lazily with his thumb and index finger. He shakes his head. "Camels are undeniably better."

I laugh lightly and raise my eyebrows in amusement. "No accounting for taste, I suppose."

He takes another drag before holding it in between his fingers in front of my face, and Instead of reaching for it, I place my lips around the filter while it's still in his hand. Our eyes lock while I breath in sharper, the cool feel of the smoke filling my chest.

He licks his lips, and for a moment, his eyes dart down to look at mine, and he's starts he's studying my face. I'm doing the same.

His eyes are bright blue, surrounded by thick lashes, which are barely visible with stray pieces of his hair hanging down below the bandana on his head. Freckles lightly paint his noise, and his pink lips are slightly parted as his eyes scan my face.

"I like your piercing," he finally says, pressing his one hand to his eyebrow as if he had one himself. I breathe out the smoke i'd been holding in my lungs and smile at him. He's still looking at it as he speaks again, "Did it hurt?"

I shrug. "Not really," Because it didn't, but also because I'd feel like an idiot saying it did. "Just a pinch."

He nodded slowly. "Hm."

I take another hit from the cig which he's still holding up to my lips. Our faces are closer now. One of my elbows is resting on the center console as I look at him through my lashes.

"You should get one." I say.

He laughs, breathy and genuine. "Yeah? You think so?"

"Mhm," i reach my hand up to graze above his eye with two fingers. "It would look good on you." He watches my movements. "We'd match, too."

He digs his teeth into his bottom lip, finally moving the cig back to his own lips and taking one more long drag before carelessly discarding it out the window.

All too quick, he's facing me again, and he leans even closer. I can feel the warmth of his breath on my face. My heart is thumping loudly in my chest, and a part of me thinks he can hear it.

Before I can even blink, he places his fingers on my chin and tilts his head, smashing his lips against mine hard.

Its all teeth at first, clashing messily as his hand leaves my chin and rests as the base of my neck. My hands are on his face, my fingers messing with the curls at the back of his neck while he grins against my lips.

He lightly bites my bottom lip, taking the opportunity to slide his tongue into my mouth. He tastes like cherry and camels, and I feel myself whimpering at the contact.

"Fuck," he mumbles into my mouth, and his tone is exasperated, partly because the console between us is making it harder for him to kiss me like he wants to, and partly because his attempts to pull me close enough for our chests to press together have been unsuccessful.

His hands reach down to tug at the belt loops of my shorts, trying to pull me onto his lap. I pull away for a second to push myself over the console, Chris's grip on my hips staying firm to assist me. I duck to avoid hitting my head on the roof of the car, and Chris giggles lowly.

I finally relax once I'm comfortable in his lap, straddling his legs below me. One of his hands is across my lower half, sliding his hand into my back pocket, and the other rests in the middle of my back, holding me in place.

We're kissing again, and this time it's more lips and tongue then teeth, but he's still lightly tugging at my lip.

I'm tugging at his hair as I push myself closer to his lower abdomen, pressing down, which elicits a groan from him. He pulls away from me, and I try to follow his lips with a whine, but he tugs at the back of my hair lightly so he can press kisses from my jaw down to my neck.

I'm already whimpering as soon as his teeth press against my throat, and he digs them deep, kissing the mark once he's satisfied with the shade of purple its turned before finding a different spot to do the same thing.

"Chris, fuck- please."

I can feel him below me, and it's making me crazy. He doesn't budge, even as I continue to whine breathlessly at him.

He only grins as he continues to nip at my skin, and i felt the smirk on his face against my throat. I tangle my fingers in his hair and tug as a silent plea. "What s' it, baby?"

Baby.

I practically keen at the nickname. He finally pulls away, a string of saliva connecting his lips to his previous spot on my neck. He grins proudly at the marks he's left before looking at me again.

"What d'you want?" his tone is cocky and assertive. His lips look red and bitten, and I start to feel embarrassed at the fact that we were sucking face so lewdly in a literal parking lot.

I want to squirm and writhe away under his gaze, but his knuckle tight grip on me won't let me. I fiddle with the neck of his shirt and avoid looking at him as i whisper, "I need you."

He grins madly. "How d'you need me, sweetheart?"

I lean forward and press my lips back against his, and he entertains for a little before tugging my hair lightly to pull me back. His fingers grip my chin, holding me in place to look at him.

"Tell me what you want."

I brush my hand against his belt buckle. "I wanna suck you off,"

It came out in a mumble, but he understood, nodding somewhat cockily with a shit-eating grin on his lips. A groan left him as he tugged me even closer so our chests were pressed together. "Yeah?"

I nod eagerly, another 'please' ready to escape my mouth as my impatience grows. He ducks his hand between the seat and the door to push it farther back, "On your knees, then."

I obliged immediately, sliding off his lap to rest on my knees below him. My elbows rest on either side of his legs as my hands flew to his belt, unbuckling it and tugging at his jeans and boxers.

He lifted his hips lightly to assist me. I pulled them down until they rested around his ankles, and I feel myself gawk.

He's big. Bigger then I expected.

A nervous feeling bubbles in the pit of my stomach, but the way he's looking down at me through hazy vision makes it vanish even quicker, and I wrap my hands around his length.

"You okay?" He asks, moving his hand to rest on my cheek, his thumb soothingly pressed on my temple.

"No- yeah, i'm good." I breathe. I hover myself over him, finally taking him into my mouth. A string of curses leave him in a hushed breath, and his head moves to rest at the back of my head to coax me farther down.

I pull back slightly, wrapping my lips around his tip and sucking lightly. His chest is rising and falling quickly above me, and his labored breathing is music to my ears.

His cock is heavy on my tongue, and its addicting. I take him farther down my throat, hollowing my cheeks to fit as much of him as i can while my hand is in a fist around his base. I bob my head and twist my hand, looking up at him to see his flushed face as he pants.

"Fuck, you look so pretty like this." He babbles, a throaty moan leaving him when I twist my hand faster, swirling my tongue along his cock as my head rises and falls.

I hum around his dick at the compliment, the slight sting on my scalp from him pulling my hair only pushing me to do more. He pushes me down slightly, and i choke at the burn of his tip making contact with my uvula.

I moan loudly on him at the feeling, tears building in my eyes as the vibration from the noises i'm making cause him to throw his head back, a blissed out expression on his face. "Fuck, so good. Just like that, god."

Drool seeps from the corners of my mouth as I speed up all my movements. Chris is a breathy, moaning mess above me, watching me through lidded eyes as I glance up at him.

He moves his other hand to rest on the side of my face, grinning at my fucked out appearance. "Fucking filthy girl, aren't you, baby." He says through gritted teeth. "You love this, don't you?"

I whine at him, furrowing my eyebrows in pleasure to say "yes', and watching as his eyes roll lightly back in his head when i start to suck lightly at his tip again.

My hand falls from his base to lay on his leg, the other holding the bottom of his shirt in my fist. I try to push my head farther down, whimpering faintly at the stretch.

Chris's hips jerk up lightly at the sensation, causing him to push himself down my throat until my lips hit the base. I start to choke, but I breathe heavily through my nose, screwing my eyes shut and hallowing my cheeks out to stop myself from pulling off.

"Fuck!" he grunts loudly, his grip on my hair turning animalistic. He mindlessly mutters out curses and praise as he pushes my head up and down with his hands, 'good girl', 'don't stop', 'takin' me so good, baby' 'just like that' . . .

My hands are resting completely at his sides as he guides my mouth on his cock, slightly bucking his hips to push himself as far as I can take him. His strokes turn sloppy, and I look up at him again to see him looking at me with a broken glance, bottom lip between his teeth. "Fuck, gonna cum," he gasps.

I begin to swirl my tongue around him, moaning messily on him as if to say, 'in my mouth, please', but he's already reading my mind, digging his nails into my scalp as he spurts coats of white down my throat, an incoherent string of "fuck fuck fuck"'s spilling out of him. Im swallowing as quickly as i can.

I pull off of him with a lewd pop, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. I know i look completely ruined, but I'm still focused on catching my breath and looking at Chris's flushed pink face above me.

His hand rests on my face again, and his thumb soothingly rubs my cheek. "You okay? Was that too much?" he asks, his expression full of concern as he wipes the tears from under my eyes.

I smile, leaning into his touch. "I'm good, it was really good."

He nods, smiling dumbly. "Good."

He pulls his jeans and boxers back up, bucking his belt before pulling me off my knees and back onto his lap. He presses a soft, passionate kiss on my lips, and then trails kisses down the side of my face, pulling my hair back off my shoulders as we both catch our breath.

We're both startled by the loud ringing of my phone in the passenger seat. I reach over the console, sighing in relief when i flip it over and see my dad's name at the top of my screen.

I put the phone up to my ear, watching as Chris rubs circles into my side with his cold fingers.

"Hi," I breath out. I listen as my dad apologizes for not answering earlier. He tells me he heard my voicemail and asks if I'm okay. "M' fine, I just wheeled it to a shop a couple blocks over. I'm on the bus home now, should only be a bit."

Chris pouts at me, and i roll my eyes at him. My dad talks for a couple for seconds before hanging up, and i leave my phone in the drink compartment next to Chris's forgotten lighter.

"D'you need to get home?" He asked. I nodded, and he frowns. "I was gonna get you off in the backseat,"

part two? :)

thank you for reading! reblogs are DEEPLY appreciated. I hope you enjoyed. links below !

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[toji-sweetheart]

threesome with the pretty boys suguru & satoru (*^‿^*)

18+ only content - mdni

I've been thinking about this for such a long time and thought why not do it now with this lmaooo also I stopped this at 1.4k because I could've easily made this a 3k thingy lmaoo so maybe a part two?

tags: fem reader + explicit smut + alcohol but no one is under the influence + mmf threesome + satosugu + they're taller than you

"Her?" Satoru whispered in his husband's ear, his tongue flicking out to tease the lobe with a deep chuckle watching as obsidian eyes followed ocean-blue ones to see a group of women in the corner.

Suguru cocked an eyebrow and looked at Satoru. "The woman who is getting married tomorrow?" He asked nodding toward the sign that the white-haired man obviously missed who was intent on the mission to find someone for a wild night of fun.

Satoru's face deflated as he took a swig of his drink sweeping his eyes around the bar, there were a few contenders but when their boyfriend or husband came up it was a no-go until they saw you.

All alone while nursing a drink.

They both watched for a few moments trying to gather intel hoping that no one would bother you, when it was clear you didn't have a man or woman waiting Satoru was the first off his stool.

It was something they both talked about before.

They wanted something new, and fun, and it wasn't that their sex life was boring or anything, it was quite the opposite but lately they've both been wanting to feel and touch a real soft wet cunt, the porn videos nor did the fleshlight they took turns using did its job.

The smell of gyrating bodies wafted around you as you pressed yourself tighter against the bar edge hoping that no one would say anything about why you were alone, after a long day of work all you wanted was one drink before going home to take a bath.

However, it seemed that a few people weren't aware of how they were close to you when you backed up a bit to draw in a deep breath to steady your nerves from how your manager berated you earlier.

It was still fresh in your mind.

Your heels caught a crack in the floor and you were falling before you even knew it and braced yourself to land flat on your ass but instead, you were caught mid-air by a pair of strong arms that steadied you on your feet. "I know it's not hard to fall for me, but you should be more careful next time." A smooth voice came from above you.

Seeing a pair of eyes shining like neon lights inviting you in was stunning, to say the least. "Thank you, the crack in the floor got the best of me and I haven't even really drank my wine." You murmured.

His smile was easy-going and natural as he leaned against the bar. "When I see a pretty woman about to fall it's only the right thing to help her." He replied smoothly with a wink before ordering a drink.

Suguru slid up next to you completing the trio.

"My husband forgets that not everyone falls for him." He teased staring at the other man as your eyes shifted between the both of them while moving your weight on each foot nervously.

The last thing you wanted was to become between spouses and have to deal with that. "Oh, I fell before I even met him, don't worry."

Suguru took a sip from his drink and chuckled. "He does have that effect on people. We noticed that you were alone and wanted to come by and say hi, you looked a bit nervous." He noted with a head tilt as his eyes gazed down at you putting you at ease.

You weren't sure how long the three of you sat there at the bar talking while you sat perched between each man, Suguru was the touchy one, his hand on your knee and Satoru was the chatty one.

They both made you laugh and when they spoke your name it made you melt, and despite not wanting any company tonight you were sure glad they came over and Satoru caught you when he did.

"Work was hell, it always is really. My boss has a stick up her ass about everything and anything, it's annoying but it pays my bills and more, I get to travel the world so I suppose it's not that bad."

They listened intently while sharing silent looks having a private conversation without talking. "Where's the best place you visited?" Suguru asked curious about what your answer was.

"My bed." You replied with a soft giggle.

"How about you come and visit ours?" Satoru piped up with a smile as his hand rested on your other knee causing goosebumps to rise all along your arms and legs which only lit a fire deep in your belly.

Being caught between two sexy-as-sin men was not at the top of your list for tonight but it would be fun to let go and do something you've never thought you would do. "I think I'd like that, Toru."

"A nickname already?" He cooed, his cheeks tinting a cute pale pink as he glanced at Suguru who took your purse and hand as he led you out to their car helping you in the front seat while he took the driver.

Satoru leaned back spreading his long legs and feeling his cock twitch as your sweet perfume filled the cabin, cherries.

The car ride was silent, filled with tension as you wondered for a moment if this was a good idea, going home with two men you just met before but it was something your friends had told you to do.

"Go and get laid! You need a night for you!" They all told you in the breakroom gushing about their own sex stories after getting you to agree with a nod even though you hated the idea at first.

They both set the perfect trap to get you in their bed, with Suguru's soft kisses on your hand and Satoru's smooth teasing you were a puddle of goo even before they got you inside their house.

Pressed between the both of them, Satoru curled his long slender fingers around the bottom hem of your dress before tugging it slowly off your body. "You're so adorable when you look like that," Suguru murmured dipping his head down to press his lips against your ear.

"Like what?" Your voice trembled as you fisted his shirt sighing softly when Satoru trailed his fingers over the curve of your ass while his husband slipped his palm between your legs to cup your pussy.

"Like a lamb caught between two wolves." Suguru purred his mouth coming down to taste yours, his tongue licked into yours with expert strokes that had you weak in the knees as Satoru traced your curves.

Suguru's words made your bones rattle with a deep need to find out what more they can do to help you forget everything you need.

With your dress unzipped and pooled around your ankles, Satoru crouched behind you to nuzzle his face against your ass before biting the lace of your panties to tug them down to join your dress.

Neither man could care less to move from their spot as all three of you tangled together on the floor, both of them still dressed while you sat in Suguru's lap with your legs over his so he could keep them spread for his husband who lapped at your pussy softly.

Satoru wanted to taste you when he first saw you and his curiosity got the best of him with you presented like this in front of his face, it was an opportunity he couldn't turn down and when you moaned his name while watching him with Suguru his cock leaked more.

The front of his boxers was a mess as he splayed you open to kiss each inch of your slick pussy, the clear sap was sweet and Gojo grew drunk on the taste, like a sweet wine that made his head fuzzy.

"How does she taste?" Suguru rasped threading his fingers through his hair to tug him up before kissing him deeply, their tongues tangled together in an erotic show that you got a front seat to.

You whined wanting Satoru to go back down on you, your orgasm wasn't far away, and watching them make out only stoked that fire between your legs. "Please!" You begged looking at them.

Satoru chuckled and nipped his husband's bottom lip before kissing his way down your chest making sure to capture a nipple in his warm mouth until he reached your pussy that ached.

He thrust two fingers inside your silken walls feeling you clench tightly around him when his tongue swirled against the swollen bud that made your thighs tense and shiver. "Right there!" You moaned bucking your hips as Suguru tweaked your nipples.

Your climax hit you like fireworks.

It wasn't one that you gave yourself, instead, it was in the hands of another who knew all the right spots to stroke. Turns out all the videos and scouring the internet weren't for anything.

feedback such as comments and reblogs are highly appreciated, those kind words mean a lot and encourage me to do more writing ♡