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boypied · 4 months ago

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Bed Chem

[meet-cute] logan howlett x male reader

summary: while you're out for groceries, you accidentally bump into a majorly sensual dilf and after many failed dates where you've been mistreated or stood up you decide to give the dilf a chance and it's the best decision you could've ever made.

wc: 2.4k

notes: MDNI, FDNI, smut, age gap, dominant logan, submissive reader, riding, praise kink, unprotected anal sex, oral sex (r!giving), nipple sucking, spit kink, light body/facial slapping.

You hear the ding of the bell as the electric doors open up as you push your trolley into the supermarket. It's been a while since you've gone for a food shop, so you thought that it's probably best to go now and stop procrastinating before you die from starvation from the lack of food in your house. You grip the handle of the trolley as you begin walking down the first aisle of the supermarket as the sound of the wheels spinning fills your ears as well as the loud noise of people clattering past you. You pick up a bar of your favourite chocolate, gently placing it down in the trolley just to make sure it doesn't break or crack, and you can actually enjoy the bar instead of shavings of it. You begin pushing the trolley out of the chocolate aisle and into the freezer section. You opened up the freezer and felt the cold air hit your body immediately, giving you goosebumps as you pulled out the bag of frozen vegetables, placing it down in your trolley. You begin pushing your trolley forward as you hear your phone ping, bringing your eyes down to look at your phone as you tried to read the message you've just been sent from your friend as you feel a collision as you crash your trolley into someone else's one. Your eyes widen as your stomach crashes into the handle of the trolley as your phone flies forward and you fall on the floor in the most dramatic way possible, "what the fuck" you mumble out under your breath as you slowly flutter your eyes open to be met with a scruffy beard older man looking down at you, "are you okay?" He says in a gruff tone as he looks at you over his small glasses that rest on the bridge of his nose.

You stay lying on the floor for a moment until you take his hand and feel the force of your body flying up as he pulls you up towards his body, "Sorry about that" he says in a soft tone as he gently squeezes your hand before pulling away. He brings his hand up to delicately caress the bump on your forehead that occurred when you hit the floor, "Ooh, that's a nasty bump," he says in a concerned manner "Better get some ice on that before it gets so bad" he gives you advice with a warm smile on his face, deepening his smile lines as he looks at you. He leans down into the freezer beside you both and grips a bag of peas, gently placing them against your forehead. "Sorry, this was all my fault. I wasn't looking at where I was going." You begin rambling on about how sorry you are until Logan just starts laughing as he places his other hand on your shoulder, "I wasn't looking at where I was going either, I was cleaning my bathroom." He says to you in a low tone so that no one else hears that he was partially to blame for the collision. You let out a chuckle, and your cheeks redden, feeling his hand scrunch against your shoulder as he removes the iced peas away from your forehead. "So..are you seeing anyone?" Logan says straight up as he smiles at you with an innocent look on his face. Your eyes widen, and you choke on your spit. "woah! That's a bit forward, " you say while chuckling, and Logan joins in on your laughs. Shrugging his shoulder and he steps closer to you, closing the distance between the two of you. Logan brings his hand up to caress your cheek. "I know, but it's not every day an old man like me comes across a guy that is so... smoking hot." He says to you as he bends down to come face to face with you as he stares into your eyes, making your face go from pink to a deep shade of red "do I make you nervous...sexy" he whispers in your ear causing you to let out a quiet whimper at him words. Your asshole is practically opening up for him already, opening up for that sexy old man. You both stare at each other for a moment before a small smirk begins to grow on your face as you finally make eye contact with him.

twenty minutes later

Logan manages to slide his key into his locked door, giving it a couple of rattles, and then he twists the key, hearing the sound of the lock unlocking itself. His breath hitches as he feels you cover his neck in kisses latching your lips on his neck, giving him a fresh hickey next to the previous one you gave him just moments before. Your legs wrapped around his waist while his veiny hand gripped against one cheek to hold you steady while Logan pushes the door open, he watches it swing open in a swift motion as you run your hands through the back of his hair as you whimper tasting his neck. He kicks his door shut, listening to it slam shut. He lays you down against his couch as he stares down at you as you begin undressing for him, revealing more and more of your body to him. Logan doesn't take his eyes off you as he tears his shirt off his body, revealing his hairy chest and perfectly chiselled body. You gasp as your eyes focus on his body. He unbuckles his belt, throwing it onto the couch chair next to him, saving it for something he might do with you later on. He pulls down his jeans revealing his thick bulge in his underwear as you pull off your underwear exposing your cock to him. "fuck" he grumbles out underneath his breath as he watches you expose yourself for him. Logan sits down on the couch as you get down on your knees on the cold wooden floor, you run your hands over his thighs as he caresses his thumb against your lower lip. You gently place a kiss on his thumb causing him to bite his own lower lip. You gently lean down to place a kiss on his thigh as your eyes never leave his until he pulls down his briefs to release his monster of a cock causing you to let out a gasp, "it's big, right?" Logan says in a slight cocky tone causing you to nod your head.

You lean forward slightly wrapping your hands around the base of his cock, gently placing a kiss against his pre-cum soaked tip. Logan lays his head back, and his eyes flutter shut, feeling your touch against his sensitive member. Your eyes flutter slightly until they look up to study his face as you notice the pure bliss as you turn your head to the side to run your tongue all the way down to his base, placing a little kiss on his balls causing Logan's body to shudder. "Baby." he coos out in a low tone as he reaches out to stroke the back of your head, pulling you closer to him. You swirl your tongue around his tip, making sure to savour the flavour of his pre-cum soaked tip. Logan leans his head forward to watch as his cock slowly disappears into the warmth of your wet mouth, your tongue sliding all over his cock as it gets further and further into your throat. You press your face right against his bushy pubes making sure to breathe in his manly scent, a scent that you're already growing to love. "Mhm," you moan out as your tongue slides down the back of his cock making Logan let out sharp but manly whines, "f-fuck" he grunts out as he places his hands either side of your head "Can I?" He says in a gentle tone as you loom up at him and nod your head while his cock is buried in your throat. He takes the consent you've given him and he slowly takes control of your head, using it as a fleshlight for his cock. "M-Mhm!" You whimper out as he speeds up, his hands holding your head as you slide up and down on his length your tongue savouring the taste of the pre-cum that is currently pouring out of the tip of his cock and coating your tongue. He pulls your head off his cock and begins to breathe heavily as you watch his spit coated cock glisten and twitch "S-Sorry...if we carried on with that I would've nutted" he says slightly embarrassed but you get up and straddle his lap placing your hand either side of his face causing him to look up at you, "don't be embarrassed, I'd of taken it as a compliment" you say softly causing him to let out a chuckle.

You place your thumb against his lip, "o-open," you mumble out shyly to him as you caress his lower lip. Logan happily obliged to you slightly out of the blue request but opened wide and sticks his tongue out. You let a string of spit drop out of your mouth and onto Logan's tongue. He makes sure to lap it up and swallow it all. Logan's hands caress your back as he makes his way down to grip your asscheeks very firmly, "so juicy," he mumbles out under his breath as he gives it a gently tap just to see your reaction "h-harder" you mumble out in a soft innocent seeming tone but he makes sure to obey your command and he spanks your ass harder causing it to send a ripple across your thigh, his rock hard cock pressed against your tight asshole that is pulsating and begging for more. "f-fuck me." You lean closer to him, whispering seductively into his ear, causing his body to shudder with excitement. "Ever been fucked by someone much older?" He whispers back to you while leaning forward to gently take your nipple into his mouth as he slowly runs his tongue back and forth over the nub, you shake your head "n-no" you say in a soft tongue as your breath hitches feeling his tongue against your nipple. Logan's hand grip onto your hips whilst the other graps his own cock and he lines up his cock with your hole that is so desperately begging for a good pounding. Once his cock is finally lined up he grips both sides of your hips firmly and he gently begins to push you down feeling his cock push past the tight muscle ring and deep into your velvet walls, inch by inch you take his thick cock, your asshole widening to accommodate his girthy size.

Once you're finally at the base, Logan bucks his hips up slightly to adjust his body. Your eyes flutter back as you feel his cock twitch inside of you and with each twitch of his sensitive cock your g-spot gets touched, "mhm" you mumble out practically too cock dumb to even think or create a sentence. You gently place your hands down against his hairy chest as you slowly begin to pick up your body and slam down against his thighs with a loud slap noise. Logan places his hands behind his head as he watches as you pick yourself up just to slam yourself down against his body. He watches the pure bliss that is plastered across your face. Logan wraps one of his hands around your cock and he begins to slowly pull back and forth as he jerks you off, he tries to match the rhythm of which you're bouncing on his cock aswell as curving his hand up with each jerk that sends shivers up your spine from how good it feels. You speed up your bounces as your hands caress his pecs, Logan's hands speed up as he jerks you off. You throw your head back in pure bliss as you feel Logan's cock twitch inside you indicating that he is close and with the way he is jerking you off, you're aswell. "L-Logan!" You whimper out as your cock twitches, your eyes flutter back as he speeds up his hand movements causing you to shoot your load all over his hand, you slow down your bounces as you breathe heavily and with your release Logan's cock twitches and he shoots his load deep inside of you. Your eyes flutter back as you feel his load painting your velvet walls white. You breathe heavily as your body collapses against Logan's exposed one.

Logan brings his cum soaked hand to his mouth as he licks your cum off it, "mhm...d-did it taste nice?" You mumble out tiredly as your body rests against his. Logan smirks and nods his head as he grips the base of his cock and pulls his semi-hard cock out of your asshole, "do you wanna stay over?" He whispers in your ear in a soft tone as he gently places a kiss on your cheek, "y-yeah I'd love too" you say softly as Logan picks you up and carries you into his bathroom and he places you down in the bath as he climbs in behind you. You rest your body against his as the tub fills up with warm water as you watch it coat both your bodies. You both relax in the bath for a while, cleaning each other up but while you're laying there you feel his cum drip out of your asshole and into the bath water. After a long warm bath, you and Logan both climb out and dry off. Logan hands you a large fluffy robe as you tie it around your waist, and you watch as he slips on plaid pyjama bottoms and a white vest. He leans down as you place his glasses on his face, pushing it up the bridge of his nose, and you gently bite your lip, Logan walks over to his armchair, and he picks up a book as he opens it up and begins reading as you walk over to him and you climb up to sit on his lap and you rest your legs over the arm rest as you lay you head against Logan's, this is what you've longed for a sexy man who knows how to please you but also is a cutie patootie, you think to yourself as you read the words with him as he flicks through the book pages.

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charliemwrites · 1 year ago

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Woof, grrr, woof

No content warnings

Your trip to the vet turns up nothing. No microchips, and none of the staff recognize the wolf-dog. They’re the only vet in town too, and he looks too pristine to have come from another…

“You’re a weird little guy, huh?” you muse on the car ride to the pet store.

The vet office was kind enough to make a file for him, standing name “Buddy”. If you get to keep him, you’re definitely changing it. They also gave you a spare leash so that you wouldn’t have to leave him in the car while you shop.

It’s a pitifully flimsy thing, but the dog seems leashed trained and does tug. Could probably let him off it and he’d stay glued to your side.

The shopping is even weirder. He doesn’t seem very distracted by treats or food, only snaps at other dogs when they get into his personal space. Otherwise, he just stays right next to you, tongue occasionally lapping at your hanging fingers.

“Beautiful dog,” a man says to you. An older guy, rugged, looking at toys.

You shift. “Thank you.”

“Should really be feeding a beast like that a raw diet.”

“Raw diet?”

“What they get in the wild. All that processed shite ain’t good for ‘em.”

You thank him for the advice over the dog’s grumbling. A quick internet search on your phone reveals it’s not a bad idea, actually. Not too expensive either.

“Raw it is,” you muse.

He tilts his head, make a low “woof”. You scratch absently at his ears as you continue shopping. Let him pick toys - his favorite a squeaky grenade of all things that he refuses to put down. You get a big matching set of food and water bowls, a cushy dog bed, a parasite repellent. Even some dog pads in case he’s not house trained.

You stall in the leash aisle, a bit overwhelmed by the choices of leashes and collars and harnesses.

“How do you feel about pink…?”

Snort.

“Yeah didn’t think so. I didn’t like the rhinestones anyway. You’d probably end up eating one and shitting glitter.”

A long whine.

“Oh, sorry, is that embarrassing? Poor love.”

The gentlest scrape of big teeth at your knuckles. You chuckle and tap two fingers on his sandpaper tongue. His head jerks back, tongue flicking in offense.

“S’what you get, dummy.”

Shaking your head, turn back to the selection. The pup huffs, shakes his head, and noses at something lower. It’s a deep green - army, you think the shade is called - collar with a silver buckle instead of a snap clip.

“Not bad,” you muse. “Matches the whole woodsy vibe we’ve got going.”

You find the matching leash and harness set, dropping it in your cart. You receive several more compliments on your big gorgeous dog, though he refuses to let anyone pet him. You awkwardly make excuses that he’s a recent rescue and try to avoid further conversation.

The last stop is at the kiosk for a tag. You can’t just let him go without one, but you despise officially naming him “Buddy.”

You end up just putting your name, number, and address on there. A matte black heart engraved with silver.

“What do you think?” you ask, offering it for a sniff.

The dog doesn’t even pretend to be interested, just takes the opportunity to drag his tongue over your wrist again. You huff and wipe off on your pants.

“Gonna have to take another bath at this rate.”

You ignore his grumble - it’s uncanny at this point, how quick he is to respond - and guide him out to the car. He hops into the passenger seat, flops over into your lap first chance he gets. You have to nudge his snout away from your crotch again, but he seems satisfied with a hand smoothing over his head.

Home is warm when you arrive. You set up your new dog’s things, buckle him into his new collar, tag and all.

“There,” you coo, dropping smooches all over his head. “Look at how handsome you are, sweet boy! Can I have a kiss?”

You yelp as he barrels you over onto your back, well over 100 pounds of wolf-dog stretching over you. You turn your face away as he licks at your mouth, trying to get inside. You remember reading somewhere that that’s a wolf thing; just another tick in the “hybrid” box.

“Gross, gross! Nooooo,” you laugh, covering his snout. You squeal as his tongue flickers between two fingers. “Nasty boy! You’re so rude!!”

He finally lets you up with much coaxing, looking far too pleased with himself.

You make yourself dinner, providing your dog with scraps of chicken and unseasoned veggies based on your online reading. He seems happy with the offering, eats it all up with gusto.

As the evening comes, you stretch out on the couch. Finally feel brave enough to put on a scary movie now that you’ve got a big-ass deterrent.

Your dog even climbs up to cuddle, head on your chest while you hug him through scary parts. The really interesting part comes at the end, during the climax.

“Heeeeeere’s Johnny!”

Your new companion perks up, eyes on the screen.

“Oh? Is… is that your name? Is your name Johnny?”

His head snaps around to you, ears straight up and eyes bright.

“Johnny…” you croon, trying it out.

He makes a little “boof” noise and wriggles closer.

“Johnny baby,” you continue, grinning. “Johnny boy. John John the bon bon.”

It’s utter nonsense, but it makes his tail thump against the cushions, leaving slobbery kisses of excitement all over your neck and jaw.

“Alright alright!” you laugh, dropping a kiss on the top of his nose. “Johnny it is. Thank fuck I don’t have to come up with a name. Was thinking of calling you Philip or Simon or something.”

You yelp as he starts to make gagging sounds, nearly kicking him off the couch before it seems to subside.

“Good lord, bud,” you breathe as he grumbles and settles his head on your thigh, puffing out a big breath through his nose. “You’re gonna be a handful.”

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tinytownn · 1 month ago

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road rage – pt. ii

joel miller x f!reader

word count: 8.2k

summary: on a drive home after a late night shift, a tailgating truck hits you, sending you off the road. the driver—his looks catching you by surprise—offers you a ride home.

content: age gap, lotsss of flirting, things get a little steamy???, joel fighting temptation, no use of y/n

a/n: [UNEDITED] thank you to everyine who commented and intereacted on the last chapter!! it means so much and really got me motivated to keep this story going. this wa actually supposed to be done two days ago, but i got a little carried away and made it a little longer than intended. i meant for this to be a slower burn but i'm not minding the direction it's going, let me know what you think! send any requests or ideas my messages or comments!!

pt. i pt. iii pt. iv pt. v

—

On his drive home, Joel sat in a thick silence, air heavy with regret. Regret for tailgating, for hitting your car, for accepting your subtle advance and sly words–or had he started it?

He couldn’t remember.

Either way, the persistent ping in his heart and pit in his stomach told him that what he was doing–what he wanted to do–was wrong.

The way your legs carried you effortlessly as you swayed toward him, confidence and anger lacing each step. The way your unwavering stare held him, letting him see just how beautiful you were. The sharp bite of your words softening into teasing tones as the night went on—how had it all gone so wrong?

Or so right?

Every move Joel made, every thought that crossed his mind, conflicted with his morals—both as a man and as a father. He had run you off the road. That alone should have ended it. Yet despite your initial outburst, you were unnecessarily kind. Your smile eased some of the guilt he felt.

He replayed the events of the night in his mind. Your fingers grazing his as you handed over your phone. The chill that ran up his spine. How he had caught you staring at him, and how he pretended not to notice–basking in the warmth of your curious stare. And the words that left you both breathless: “I get run off the road by a handsome stranger…”

Surely it was just a simple compliment.

But he had watched the way you moved. The way you shifted in your seat whenever his eyes found you. How your legs trembled, uncertain, before crossing tightly, trying to disappear into the cushion.

When he spoke–words growing bolder by the minute–he caught under the dim light of the streetlamps, how your cheeks were dusted a light shade of pink.

No matter all the signals you were giving him, he couldn’t.

Conversation hadn’t even gone deep enough between you two for him to even know your age–he knew it was too young. And when he pulled you back into the cab, his fingers still tingling from your touch, he saw that look in your wide eyes—a longing—and it took everything in him to resist.

He barely knew your name.

Almost like fate was toying with him, his phone buzzed. A message from you. Against his better judgment, he glanced down, tearing his eyes from the road.

A link to your address, followed by a message:

Here’s my address in case you forget. Drive safe, old man.

Headlights from the oncoming lane snapped his attention back to the road. His lips twitched into a smile before he rubbed a hand across his beard, trying to hide it from no one.

He didn’t respond to the message. Too many thoughts of you were already swirling in his head, all of them warning him not to be texting you in the dead of night—bad decisions seemed to be a specialty for both of you.

–

The blare of your alarm the next morning was unforgiving. You greeted it with a groggy slap. Getting home well past midnight last night, undressing, and sitting in bed replaying the car ride home led to you getting minimal sleep. The few hours you did get, got interrupted with an anxiety filled realization–you were seeing Joel in six hours.

Then it was five.

Then four.

Then you fell asleep.

Three hours of sleep was evident upon your face, the ache from the car crash really having set in. Your body ached from the crash, the pain radiating from between your shoulder blades to the base of your skull. It further migrated into a headache that enveloped your entire head in a throbbing fog. The sudden jolt from your alarm clock rudely waking you only heightened the pain you felt, trying to catch your breath as you gripped the sheets.

Dragging yourself into the bathroom, each step slow and heavy, you kept the lights off—unable to bear the brightness. You rummaged through the cabinet, finally finding a couple of painkillers and swallowing them down, praying it would sooth the pain searing down your spine and headache that pulsed at every thought.

You couldn’t bring yourself to put much effort into your appearance. But with your movements dragging so slow, by the time you had finished Joel was already pulling up into the driveway. It took a minute, but after hearing his tires lazily roll on the incline, your phone buzzed with confirmation of his arrival.

Your heart skipped a beat.

The pain that had clouded your morning dulled just enough for your thoughts to shift. Slowly, hazily, the memories of last night trickled back—the way his voice sounded, the way he looked at you, the teasing words exchanged in the dark. Despite the ache still clinging to your body, something warm and electric curled in your stomach.

You neared the truck, taking its full form in the daylight. A thin fog hung in the air, rain misting gently as droplets slid off the worn exterior. The paint was some sort of bland neutral—something between gray and weathered brown—and the logo on the door was barely holding on, a peeling, tattered decal.

Through the window, his eyes were already on you—waiting.

Your cheeks warmed as you climbed in and the seat greeted you with a familiar warmth. You tried to avoid the items splayed on the floor with your wet and muddy boots, awkwardly shuffling into a comfortable position.

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart.” He said, noticing your struggle.

The word slipped from him instinctively—so fast it caught him off guard. He tried–and failed–to cover it up with a cough and a quick turn of the head.

The excitement from last night bubbled beneath your skin.

“Good mornin’,” he muttered out, his head turned over his shoulder as he reversed out into the street.

“Good morning.” You turned to him with a soft smile, admiring his form as he drove.

Joel seemed quieter this morning. Last night, even with the unspoken tension hanging between you, his body language had said more than his words—a quiet confession of attraction. But now, he sat stiffly behind the wheel, white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel, jaw clenched, his face unreadable.

Maybe he just wasn’t a morning person.

You used the silence to sit with your pain, shoulders sore, neck tight, the idea of spending eight hours in a cubicle sounding more like a punishment than a paycheck. But when Joel had offered to take you to work, you didn’t even really think twice about whether you should go or not. You just wanted to see him again.

“Unless you wanna come to work with me, I’m gonna need some directions, kiddo.” Joel’s voice cut through the silence as he drove past the school once again, its looming silhouette less intimidating in the morning light.

His voice was different now—firmer, more serious. Not unlike how he sounded right after the crash. Cold. Detached. Maybe sleep had reset him. Maybe last night really hadn’t meant anything at all.

“Just take the highway we were on last night– exit three.” You stared at him expectantly, expecting him to at least meet your gaze for a moment.

But he never did.

The quiet that followed was worse than the night before. It wasn’t charged with tension anymore, just awkward and heavy. You folded your hands in your lap, trying to ignore the pang in your chest.

Last night had felt like something—like sparks, flirtation, shared glances that lingered too long. You had imagined there was something building. Joel’s smirks, his teasing, the way his gaze had settled on you like he wanted more. But now... now it just felt like a misunderstanding.

You knew this was all in your head.

The adrenaline from the accident, the exhaustion, the way his voice sounded under the hum of the engine—it had all created a fantasy. Joel hadn’t been flirting. He’d just been trying to lighten the mood, to ease the tension you created with your dumb jokes and wandering eyes. His kindness wasn’t affection—it was responsibility.

You sighed, running a hand over your face, you felt nothing but embarrassment. What had he been thinking last night, while you let your mind wander? You, practically throwing yourself at a man who could be your father. And still, he was kind enough to give you a ride. The least you could do was not make things worse.

Your knees shifted to face the door, trying to depart your energy–and any lingering attraction–away from the driver’s seat. Joel had only nodded in response to your directions, an action you took as a sign to not pursue any further questions.

But the silence was deafening.

No radio, no A/C, no comforting country twang drifting through the speakers—just the tense, humming quiet of restraint. You hated it. And judging by the way Joel’s jaw ticked, so did he.

Then–

“Are you sure you don’t need me to take you to the hospital?”

You blinked, turning to him in surprise. It was the third time he’d asked—despite you insisting you were fine.

“Do I really look that bad?” You laughed, trying to lighten the mood.

It was slight, but you saw Joel’s cheek flush slightly. His comment had been ruder than he perceived.

“No—I didn’t mean… I just noticed the limp. Wanted to make sure you were alright.”

You hadn’t even realized. The pain in your neck had stolen your focus, but the soreness in your legs had clearly altered your stride. It was only just a slight drag of the foot though, something Joel had to have been paying attention to to notice.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you said, offering a small smile. “Nothing hospital-worthy, too expensive. Just a little Advil and some suffering.”

That was when he looked at you—really looked. His eyes met yours, brows low, expression unreadable.

“If that’s all that’s holding you back, y’should go. I’ll cover it.”

Your mouth fell open slightly, stunned. Every time you thought Joel had run out of unexpected kindness, he proved you wrong. Why was he being so generous?

“I can’t let you do that,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “I’ll take it easy at work. Maybe sneak in a nap or something.”

Joel scoffed, “Employee of the month, huh?”

Joel’s restraint didn’t take long to completely collapse the second he looked into your eyes. His mouth tugged into a grin, wide and genuine, and you couldn’t help but laugh. That warmth—the spark from last night—came rushing back. His eyes crinkled at the corners, and suddenly, it was like nothing had changed.

He’d endlessly scolded himself the night before, telling himself he needed to back off. That this—whatever this was—was wrong. The ping of guilt still stuck in his chest with every word you exchanged.

The weight on your shoulders was evident the second you exited the door this morning. He had seen the way you winced as you turned your neck, reaching for the keys in your bag, the way your arms slightly shivered as you turned the key. Most noticeably though was how slowly you moved. Your steps were staggered, one foot dragging behind while you kept a hand splayed across the back of your neck as if to stabilize it.

But no matter how loud the guilt rang, it was never louder than the quiet happiness he felt just being near you. His instincts, primal and persistent, kept pulling him towards you. To somehow make up for the pain he’d caused, by easing the weight of it in any way he could.

And this morning—that weight was written all over you.

He had barely gotten to sleep himself, so he knew you definitely hadn’t. Between the pain and the adrenaline crash, there was no way you’d gotten any real rest. He hated it. Hated that you were hurting, and hated that he was the reason.

He told himself again to be strong. To keep his distance.

But he couldn’t.

Not when you smiled at him like that. Not when your laugh filled the cab, soft and real, and the corners of your eyes squinted just slightly as they locked onto him. Not when you tucked your hair behind your ear and looked at him like he was the only thing that mattered in that moment.

“I’ll catch up tomorrow,” you said with a groan, dragging a hand down your face. “Just the thought of doing anything today…”

Joel’s hand twitched on the wheel as his eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, checking out the back seat.

“If you really don’t wanna go in,” he began slowly, “you could come with me instead.”

Your head tilted slightly. You didn’t know what “with him” entailed, exactly, but the offer lit something up inside you.

He continued, voice lower. “It ain’t fancy, but I can clear out the back seat. You could nap while I work. I’ll take you home on my break.”

It wasn’t glamorous. It wasn’t romantic. But it was him offering more of his time, more of himself—and you didn’t need much more than that.

“That sounds great actually.” You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, your body sinking further into the seat. “And...sorry for making you drive all the way out to get me.”

Joel glanced at you, just for a second, before his eyes returned to the road. “Ain’t a problem, honey,” he said with a small shake of his head. “Truth is, I woulda been worried sick if y’didn’t catch a ride. That crash wasn’t nothin’.”

You smiled, but guilt still tugged at your gut. You didn’t know how far Joel lived or how much time you’d cost him this morning. If you’d just stayed in bed, listened to your aching body, he could’ve gone about his day without the inconvenience. He didn’t seem to mind though.

Although his focus was still on the road, you could see underneath the hand that so thoughtfully cupped his chin, there was a smile. He rubbed at his beard, waiting for the grin to dissipate, though the creases at the corners of his eyes unknowingly gave him away.

The drive to his job site was short. He pulled a swift U-turn, left hand relaxed on the wheel like he’d done it a hundred times. The second you agreed to come along, he’d felt a weight lift. He wouldn’t admit it, but the thought of spending more time with you eased the tension that had been knotted in his chest since he woke up.

Once again though, he couldn’t bring himself to look at you–not without the guilt of his temptations weighing on him. When he was away from you he vowed to cease his advances and stick to the original deal, but each time you took your place in his truck, it chipped away at his resolve.

Your words–laced with desperation for his attention–called to him like a siren. Although your words were innocent, the desire was still evident with every silence being chased away by your call.

Pulling into the muddied gravel lot, the truck jostled side to side as Joel pulled into park. It was already packed—rows of dirt-coated trucks and cars, a few bearing the same company logo as Joel’s.

You glanced around. “Are you late because of me?”

Joel opened his door with a grunt, hopping out like it was nothing. “Nah. I’m late ‘cause I felt like bein’ late.”

You laughed, and it made his chest tighten.

He rounded the truck and opened the back door, immediately beginning to shuffle through the chaos inside. The mess was impressive—tools, clothes, a few fast food wrappers—and yet, Joel moved with practiced ease, shifting things around like he knew exactly where everything was.

“Jesus,” you muttered, peering back. “Do you live back there?”

“Sometimes feels like it,” he said with a grunt, hoisting a heavy red toolbox up onto the seat and flipping it open. Tools clanked as he piled more inside. “Was gonna clean it out this weekend, but…y’know.”

With his tools out of the way, you watched as Joel skillfully threw his arm over the seat, scooping the remainder of the items in the chair closest to him. He thumbed through the clothing, eyes on the hunt for something specific, when he pulled out a large, black jacket.

After clearing the space, Joel fished around a little longer, eventually pulling out a black work jacket. He gave it a once-over in the light before offering it to you.

“If it gets too cold, you can use that. Sorry I don’t got a blanket or nothin’.”

You took it with a soft smile, brushing your fingers over the worn cotton lining. “This is perfect. Thanks.”

He looked to you for confirmation, a flicker of worry in his eyes. He knew his truck was a mess—cramped, cluttered, and hardly the kind of place you should be sleeping—but he didn’t have much of a choice. He was already running over an hour late, and turning back to take you home wasn’t an option, not until at least lunch. Still, when your eyes met his, there was no trace of complaint—only quiet gratitude and a softness that settled something in him.

Taking the toolbox in one hand, he grasped the clothing underneath his other arm, using his foot to slam the door shut behind him. You heard the tailgate thunk open, the seat vibrating as he piled his stuff back there, then slam shut a few seconds later. Gravel crunched under his boots as he returned to your side.

The handle clicked and a gust of gloomy fog leaked into the cabin. Joel extended a hand, steady and warm, helping you out of the front seat. You mumbled a quiet thank you, wincing as your neck flared in pain.

Joel must’ve taken note because after he opened the back door for you to climb in, he placed a reassuring hand on your back. Reaching out to grab the door frame, you stayed still–to linger in his warmth. You must’ve stood longer than you meant to.

“I ain’t got all day, sweetheart,” Joel chuckled, his hand slightly ushering you into the backseat. “Some of us got jobs to do.”

You blushed at his words, the cooling temperature of the truck clinging to the warmth at your cheeks. Grabbing the jacket he had set aside, you unzipped it and spread it over your legs, using it as a blanket.

“Thank you, Joel. I really-” your words were cut short by a yawn.

The smell of Joel through his jacket–sweat and sawdust–was comforting. That combined with the newfound warmth wrapped around you, the lack of sleep had finally caught up.

“Don’t mention it,” he said gently.

Joel leaned against the open doorframe, one hand gripping the top of the cab, his broad shoulders blocking the light. His stance was solid and protective, inspecting the back of the truck looking for anything he could do to make things more comfortable.

His eyes lingered on you as you settled in. Your lips were pouted and plump, lashes fluttering with sleep. You looked peaceful even in pain. And that unspoken thing between you—the desire neither of you dared to name—sat heavy in the air.

He should’ve walked away.

Instead, he watched you for one more moment, memorizing the way you looked wrapped in his jacket.

“I’ll be back in a few hours,” he said at last, his voice low. “If you need anythin’, text me. And don’t get out of the truck. You hear me?”

“What if I have to pee?” You asked, teasing.

He frowned. “Hold it.”

He shut the door, not allowing himself to hear your response. He turned quickly, hoping you didn’t catch the faint smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

You always knew how to get under his skin—in the best and worst ways.

The first half of Joel’s shift passed quickly–for you at least.

The scent of him lingered in the cabin, warm and comforting, clouding your senses until sleep overtook you. The seat was stiff and didn’t do your neck any favors, but exhaustion soon won and took you under.

For Joel, however, the morning dragged.

Impatient glances at the clock and excessive “bathroom” breaks to the parking lot consumed the next four hours of Joel’s morning. He was out of character this morning and the whole crew could sense it. Usually it took hours–days even–to get a text back from Joel, but today his eyes were glued to his phone. And as the man who was always barking about wasted time and how he wasn’t “paying you to smoke no damn cigarettes,” he now found himself outside more than in—boots crunching over gravel as he made excuse after excuse to check on you.

Every time he peeked into the backseat, you were still there—curled up with your hands tucked beneath your chin, twisted awkwardly to fit in the narrow space, yet somehow peaceful. He hated that you had to be crammed back there, but something about watching you sleep—safe, soft, undisturbed—made his heart swell.

On his fifth venture to the parking lot, his eyes were glued to his phone expectantly–just in case you texted. Heavy steps matched his pace behind him, his mind too distracted by the screen to notice.

“Joel!”

His steps halted. Boots planted firmly on the gravel.

“What’s up with you today?”

Tommy.

Joel turned just enough to see his younger brother striding up behind him, catching up quick.

Usually Tommy would be manning his own site, they’d barely see each other until in the office later in the day. But with the difficulties of this new client, Tommy decided to step in to help Joel manage the new plans–and his temper.

“Nothin’,” Joel’s eyes flicked to the dense woods that surrounded the parking lot. “Jus’ gotta take a piss.”

“What, did you drink the fucking ocean?” Tommy chortled. “You’ve pissed, what, three times this hour?”

“M’gettin’ old.” Joel shrugged, trying to feign indifference.

They stopped just a few feet from Joel’s truck. Tommy’s gaze didn’t miss the way his brother kept glancing toward it.

“Well clearly not that old cause you’ve been on that phone all morning.” He took a careful step towards Joel, knowing how much of a wall his brother liked to put up. “Haven’t seen you this hooked since Sarah had her first sleepover. She okay?”

Growing tired of Tommy’s needless questioning, Joel ran a hand over his face as he groaned. He scratched at his beard, giving Tommy a tight, warning look.

“She’s fine.”

If this were anyone else he would have just shot out some bullshit lie, not caring as to if they believed it or not. If it were any other day he wouldn’t even be in this situation–his whole team was too intimidated by him to question his behaviour. But Tommy wasn’t just anyone. He was family. And he knew Joel better than anyone else.

“So what’s got you so jumpy?” Tommy pried, more serious now.

There was a beat of silence. The whirlwind of attraction, of guilt, towards this whole situation–towards you–was too much.

He couldn’t hold it in.

Joel’s voice was low, his stare piercing as he looked at Tommy. “You can’t say a word.”

“Swear.” Tommy held out his hand.

Joel clasped it without hesitation—a firm handshake, the unspoken contract between brothers that had lasted since they were kids.

Joel took a slow, weighted step toward his truck. Every nerve in him buzzed. What would Tommy think?

What would anyone think?

He knew how it looked. He felt how it looked.

He was a dirty old man and you–in all your precious innocence–had fallen into his trap of suave words and kind gestures. Not that he meant it that way.

He didn’t mean for any of this to happen.

Raising a finger to his lips, Joel gestured for silence as he brought Tommy to the window. Tommy leaned forward, cautious, peering inside.

You were still there, nestled under Joel’s jacket, mouth parted slightly in sleep. Peaceful.

Tommy blinked, confused. “Who’s the girl?”

“I hit her car last night.” A sweaty palm reached to run nervously through his hair. “Was just givin’ her a ride to work.”

“So why is she asleep in the back of your truck? And why’s it got you actin’ like that?”

Tommy’s confusion was growing by the second. It wasn’t until he looked back into the truck that he saw Joel’s jacket draped across your body that he began to piece together parts of his own puzzle.

“Joel—did you—wait, is she your—? No way, Joel, you dog!” He laughed, smacking Joel’s arm like a middle schooler. “Holy shit! It’s been years! I mean, damn—she’s cute, too!”

It had been years. Joel had thrown himself into raising Sarah, burying every other part of himself under responsibility and routine. And while that life was good, full of love—Tommy had watched his brother slowly shut the door on everything else.

Especially women.

Joel had grown sharp-edged with time. Gruff. Irritable. The kind of manager no one wanted to get stuck with. Guys on site tried everything to avoid him—transfers, complaints, even quitting. Being a single dad and a lifetime of construction had worn him down, and he didn’t exactly hide it.

“Tommy—no,” Joel said quickly, color rushing to his face. “It’s not like that.”

“C’mon, it’s not a crime to be gettin’ some. I was startin’ to think your dick retired early!”

“She’s hurt from the crash,” Joel snapped, lowering his voice. “Didn’t go in. I’m takin’ her home on break. That’s all.”

Tommy arched a brow, clearly not convinced.

“So you didn’t fu—”

“Jesus, Tommy!” Joel hissed, swatting him in the chest. “Would you shut the hell up?”

Joel, caught up in his frustrations, spoke louder than he had intended. The irony of his words set in when he saw you shuffle in his peripheral vision–a slight movement that turned into your sleepy gaze peering over the hem of the jacket.

Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you adjusted your vision to light pouring through the windows–much brighter than before. Laughter and a gruff shout had intruded your dreams, clouding your hearing until you woke up in a groggy haze. Sleep had worked to ease your pain, feeling surprisingly better despite your contorted body and you almost sat up fully until Joel’s words replayed in your head.

“Don’t get out of the truck.”

It wasn't harsh, but it was firm. He didn’t want you to be seen. And with the laughter so close to the truck it was probably better you stay down. His jacket still draped around your shoulders, you pulled it up, tucking your chin beneath the collar as you snuck a peek out the window.

Two figures stood nearby. You recognized Joel instantly, his body tense, and the other man, younger, a little leaner, was laughing—then recoiling as Joel hissed something at him.

Was it noon already?

“Joel?” You sat up, not thinking to look at your phone.

His movements swift, Joel slid in front of the door, covering the window as if that might undo what happened. But before Joel could respond, the younger man grabbed his arm and tugged him aside.

“C’mon, Joel,” the man grinned. “If she really ain’t nothin’ to you, then there’s no harm in sayin’ hello, right?”

“Tommy, don’t—” Joel reached to stop him.

Tommy pulled the handle and the truck door flung open. Joel had forgotten to lock it.

Legs crossed, you sat curled in the backseat, jacket clutched to your chest. The light now flooded into the cabin and your hand ran to shield your eyes.

The man filled the doorway, shielding you from the blinding sun with his frame. His voice was soft, teasing.

“Pardon my brother’s manners. I see he’s got you sleepin’ in the damn backseat like a stray cat.” He offered you a hand. “I’m Tommy.”

You stared at him, brain still catching up. His hair was longer, parted loosely, a shade lighter than Joel’s and untouched by gray. His smile was disarming, his features familiar but softer than Joel’s—there was warmth in his eyes, a kind of boyish mischief.

Joel took Tommy by the shoulder, trying to pull him back. “Tommy if you don’t-”

The two stumbled onto the gravel with a hearty laugh, Tommy’s weight toppling them both. Joel hit the ground with a grunt, and in a second, had his brother in a headlock, ruffling his hair like they were kids again.

“Don’t be sayin’ shit–like you can be talkin’.” Joel chuckled.

“You’re the furthest thing from a gentleman,” he added, releasing him from his grasp.

Tommy wheezed with laughter, brushing gravel off his jeans as he stood and extended a hand to Joel.

“And yet the women still love me,” he smirked. “Must be doin’ something right.”

Joel grunted as he stood, dusting off. “Your wife loves you. Though maybe not that mouth of yours.”

“The only woman I need.” Tommy said fondly, a genuine smile softening his features.

You had stayed quiet, a silent observer, as you watched the brothers interact. It was a tender moment you felt you had no place in, this was a side of Joel you didn’t think he had to him–childlike and free. It brought a tingling to your skin.

“How’d you sleep, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart.

Your eyes flicked to Tommy, trying to read his expression. But all you got in return was a knowing grin. You were trying so desperately to gauge Joel’s feelings for you–if there were any–through Tommy’s reactions. But if he found the nickname surprising, he didn’t show it.

“Good,” you yawned out. “S’warm. Thanks for the jacket.” You hugged it close, subtly taking in the scent once again.

Peering under Joel’s arm, you locked eyes with his brother who was surveying the scene. You told him your name, returning the warm greeting he met you with earlier.

He nodded to you, playfully winking as he snapped his eyes from you to Joel.

Your cheeks reddened.

Seeing your face, Joel whipped his head to his brother, scowl on his face.

“S’nice to meet you.” He smiled warmly. “Joel, I’ll cover. Take this nice woman home. Let her sleep in an actual bed for god’s sake.”

He gave Joel a pointed look—one you couldn’t decipher—but Joel clearly could.

Joel cleared his throat, embarrassed at his brother's implications. Ultimately though, he shot Tommy a quick, appreciative nod.

He would be hearing about this later.

The older man cleared his throat, ears tinged red. “I’ll make it quick.”

Not bothering to exit the vehicle, you climbed over the center console into the passenger seat. You kept Joel’s jacket draped over your shoulders, nestling into it–its scent a quiet comfort.

He had shut the door behind you and as you glanced over your shoulder you saw the brothers still talking amongst each other outside. It was a quick exchange, but before they parted Tommy met Joel’s shoulder with a punch as he laughed, walking away.

Whatever Tommy said made Joel glance down at his boots, shaking his head with a barely-there grin. He circled back to the driver’s side, slower this time, like he was working something out in his head.

“M’sorry about him,” Joel muttered as he sank into the seat beside you, the old truck groaning beneath his weight. “Sometimes I don’t know how we’re even related.”

The gears clicked into reverse, engine humming as Joel began to exit the lot. The familiar country tunes filled the cab.

You watched Tommy stroll back to the site and gave a soft laugh. “He’s actually really nice.”

“He likes to make it seem that way.” Joel said, lips tugging upward. The tension in his shoulders had softened, the warmth in his voice a sign he didn’t mind the topic.

You locked eyes with him for a second, giving him a mischievous glance. “I’m surprised you got up after he knocked your old ass to the ground.”

Joel scoffed, eyes fixed on the road. “Kid wishes he could knock me out. Stronger than I look.”

“Oh yeah?”

Directing your attention away from his face, your eyes trailed downward, taking in the way his arms tensed as he turned the wheel—biceps straining beneath the fabric of his white tee. His work shirt was gone, leaving only the soft, worn cotton clinging to his frame. He looked rough around the edges, sun-kissed and sweat damp from the day—rugged in a way that made your chest tighten.

You bit your bottom lip, just slightly. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

His eyes cut to you, catching the look in your eye. He didn’t say anything, but a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“How much younger is Tommy anyway?”

“Why?” Joel clicked his tongue. “You got the hots for my brother already? Hate to break it to ya but he’s taken.”

You rolled your eyes, nudging his shoulder lightly. “Seriously! It’s about time I get to know you. I know you’re ancient–lotta history there.”

“Take a guess. How old you think Tommy is?”

You put a hand thoughtfully to your chin, trying to take in what you could remember of his appearance. “You two seem close…I’ll go with three years?”

“Close. Four.” He chuckled. “We’ve always been pretty close. Little brat wouldn’t stop botherin’ me the second he could walk—hasn’t stopped since.”

Laughing at his comment, you instinctively leaned in closer, the easy rhythm of conversation settling your nerves. You’d never been this close to him before—his scent surrounded you, warm and earthy, and his rough, worn-in appearance after a long shift only added to his appeal. Sweat still clung lightly to his brow, dark hair curling slightly where it stuck, and his muscles flexed subtly with every shift in his seat, still aching from the day’s work.

He caught your gaze again but didn’t say a word—afraid that if he called it out, you might look away.

He glanced at you, curiosity piquing. “What about you? You got any family ‘round here?”

“Around here? Nah. Austin was an impulsive college decision…just never left I guess.”

“College?” Joel perked up. “What’d you major in?”

You dropped your gaze to your lap, fingers tightening around the edge of the jacket. “I… dropped out, actually.”

“Can’t blame ya. School was never for me either. Couldn’t sit down at a desk long enough to learn nothin’. Tradework’s all I'm good for.”

“I don’t think that’s true.” Your eyes softened. “School’s all bullshit anyway.”

Joel didn’t respond right away—just offered a soft smile, one you found yourself mirroring. It had been years since he’d had a conversation this genuine, especially with a woman, and the ease of it all pulled a quiet sigh from his lips.

“So, college dropout, huh? “ He said. “What made you quit?”

You huffed, dramatically leaning back in your seat. You thought carefully back to your college days.

“I just didn’t get it…” you sighed. “Having to take all these classes, half of them don’t mean shit to your major and all for what? Thirty grand? No thanks.”

He nodded, clearly engaged.

“And the professors would just talk and talk and talk…about nothing half the time!” You sat up now, more enthusiastic as you turned to Joel. “I had this professor once–real emotional guy–wife divorces him mid-semester.”

Joel raised a brow, eyes flicking from the road to you. “Lemme guess. He quit?”

You laughed, unable to contain yourself as you continued. “Even better. He gave us an assignment to write an apology letter–this is a math class by the way–to his ex-wife. Said he was going to pick the best one to send to her.”

Joel barked out a laugh, throwing his head back for a second. “No way.”

“Swear to God!” you giggled. “And the worst part? I never figured out if he sent it to her! Dropped out the next week.”

“Thanks for the reminder of where Sarah’s college fund’s probably goin’,” he said, smirking.

The laughter between you faded gently as the truck rolled into your neighborhood, a peaceful calm settling over the two of you. Joel pulled into your driveway, shifted into park, and leaned back in his seat with a grunt.

The familiar bark of your neighbor’s dog echoed in the background, stirring a knot in your stomach—a reminder that Joel would be heading back to work any minute. He was turned fully toward you now, one arm slung over the back of the seat, his body relaxed. His head tilted slightly, eyes warm and unreadable, the corners crinkled with the ghost of a smile. He studied you openly, eyes tracing over your face like he was memorizing you—just as you had been doing to him.

It was comfortable silence–an unspoken knowing between you two that the next few words would probably be the beginning of an unwanted departure.

You took a breath. “Do you… want to come in?”

His brows lifted slightly.

“I mean—for lunch,” you added quickly. “The least I can do for wasting your lunch break.”

He didn’t answer right away. Just stared for a moment, taking in your request, letting the offer hang in the air. He knew he should’ve been turning the truck back on, Tommy could only cover for so long.

But instead, his lips curled, slow and sure.

“I’d love that, sweetheart.”

His answer was unexpected and your sheepish gaze flicked to his–quickly growing in confidence.

“How does fried rice sound?”

He smiled. “Sounds perfect. I’m starving.”

The both of you eagerly left the truck and you rushed to find the keys as you led him up the stairs. You fumbled a bit, but the lock clicked open, and you held out an arm to usher him inside.

Sliding your shoes off at the door, you caught Joel’s eye as he mirrored your actions. His muddied work boots ended up next to your worn flats—a simple, domestic gesture.

“Sorry if it’s a mess,” you said, starting your way towards the kitchen. “Wasn’t expecting company.”

“It’s ain’t a problem, sweetheart.”

Joel held his breath while you gave him a short tour of the house. He kept his steps light, socks quiet on the vinyl while he surveyed his surroundings. You only showed him the open space of your home–living room, dining area, kitchen, bathroom–leaving the more intimate parts to his imagination.

He wondered what your bedroom would look like. Was it clean or messy? Would you have a TV in there, binging shows late into the night? Did you lay in a thick, quilted blanket or a soft, cushioned duvet?

What size was your bed? How many other men had been in it? Had they held you close in the dark? Would they make you finish?

Did you have a nightstand? And if so–would you dip your fingertips into the drawer late at night, searching for the tiny motor that could pleasure you like no man could?

And when you did…would you think of him?

His breath hitched.

He knew he shouldn’t have come in here.

“Sooo, no vegetables then?”

Your voice cut through his thoughts. Joel’s face flushed as if you could hear his perverse thoughts. You stood by the open freezer, holding up two bags of frozen vegetables, one knee popped, head cocked, eyebrow raised–awaiting Joel’s answer.

He shook his head. “Anything’s fine. M’not picky.”

With a nod, you got to work. Taking your pick at the bag of vegetables, you pulled the day-old rice from the fridge, balancing a bottle of soy sauce and carton of eggs. Placing it all on the counter, you swiftly grabbed a pan from underneath the stove and lit the flame.

“This is my specialty.” You beamed back at Joel, dumping the contents blindly into the pan. “Had a roommate who would cook all the time–like, real MasterChef shit–and I guess she got tired of me eating off her plate, so she taught me how to cook some stuff.”

Joel moved to one of the chairs at the island and nodded, urging you to continue, as he pulled it out and sat down.

“You think it’d be easy, but it’s all about the texture of the rice. The flavor can be there, but if you have soggy rice it ruins the whole thing.”

You placed the lid on the pan and shook it around, contents sizzling over the flame. The air filled with the savory scent of soy sauce and sautéed onions—your mouth watered.

“Smells amazing,” Joel said, watching your practiced motions. “Didn’t take you for a cook.”

You smirked. “Don’t know much, just enough to keep me alive.”

The flame clicked off. You slid the pan aside and wiped your hands on your pants before reaching into the cabinet. Tiptoeing, you grabbed two bowls and divided the rice, giving Joel a little more. You handed him a spoon and joined him at the island.

“Better than I’ve got. I do make a good grilled cheese though. Sarah does most’ve the cookin’, she’s gotten real good at it.” His smile softened at her name.

A quiet moment passed. You handed him his bowl and took your seat across from him.

Joel spoke again, unexpectedly. “Maybe you could teach her somethin’.”

“I’d love to,” you said softly, knowing how much she meant to him.

He only returned a smile, halfway through his meal by now while you still hadn’t touched yours.

Joel had already dug in, spoon clinking against the ceramic. There he was–sat at your kitchen counter after work, eating food you had made, and right after he had cared for you that morning. It all felt so domestic–so intimate.

“This is really good.” He nodded at your untouched bowl. “You should try some.”

Joel took the spoon from his lips, taking another dip back into his food before waving it in front of your face, poking at your lips. You grinned. His childish antics forced a laugh from your lips and the second they parted a spoonful of rice found its way on your tongue.

“Hey! Mphm…you…can’t do that!” you giggled, trying to talk between bites.

Joel chuckled. “Just did.”

“You’re such an ass.”

You looked down at Joel from your seat on the counter, laughing uncontrollably as you tried to swallow down your food. Through the tears brimming in your eyes, you caught a glimpse of the man before you–just a stranger yesterday. His head was thrown back in joyful delight, a deep, genuine laughter rang from his chest, and his hand was outstretched into a stabilizing grip on your thigh. Heat buzzed from his fingertips on your skin, a tickling sensation fluttered under your skin.

As the laughter faded, his gaze lifted to yours. Serious now. Intense. His hand remained, steady on your leg. His eyes traced your features, lingering—just for a second—on your lips.

You caught it..

Clearing his throat, Joel pulled his hand back and stood, scooping up his empty bowl. The clinking spoon echoed through the room. He refused to look up at you. You were the opposite–your hungry, needing eyes staring straight into him, and he could feel it.

“I should get goin’.” He was nervous–palms sweaty, heart racing. “Tommy’s prolly waitin’-”

“Joel.”

You didn't even know what you were going to say. Desperation was the only thing on the tip of your tongue, flooding your senses with its sweet, captivating taste. He turned toward the sink, and his leg brushed yours—another twitch, another nervous cough.

“Listen, I gotta get goin’.” Joel swallowed the lump in his throat, his mouth dry. “You’re too young, can’t be givin’ the wrong impression…”

Joel’s words fought against everything his body was screaming at him. His limbs shook, chest tight from the pounding of his heart. He said he should go—but he didn’t move. He didn’t want to. Not yet. Not with you looking at him like that.

But he could already hear Tommy’s voice in his head. The questions. The jokes. The guilt of it all—of his brother knowing—it was almost too much to bear.

He wasn’t moving.

So you moved first.

One leg hooked around his, pulling him in. He stumbled forward, already weakened by the sight of you—lips parted, cheeks flushed, eyes heavy with want. Heat sparked between you, and the bowl clattered as he fumbled to place it down.

Your fingertips found his forearm, tracing down to his palm, interlocking with his fingers.

“What impression?” you whispered, breath warm against his lips.

Joel was at a loss for words, his throat was too dry to speak and his mind was clouded with lust and desire. He could only look at your lips that hovered tauntingly in front of his, whispering softly to him.

“Sweetheart…” he breathed.

That word.

He’d called you that before—casually, instinctively—but this time it felt different. But this time it was different–when he spoke he almost groaned. It was a sound pulled straight from his chest, ragged and aching. A plea disguised as a pet name.

Joel had always been composed, guarded. A man of few words and fewer emotions. But now, in this quiet space between resistance and desperation, he looked vulnerable. Weak.

You were his forbidden fruit and you'd already fallen from the tree, right at his feet—ripe, willing, waiting. All he had to do was take a bite.

But he couldn’t.

His will, for a fleeting moment, outweighed his desire. He stood there, frozen, with your legs around his waist and your fingers tangled in his. He didn’t move—until you did.

Your lips found his.

Soft. Sure.

He hesitated, stiff with the remnants of guilt swarming his mind—but instinct overruled. His hand dropped yours and migrated to the small of your back, pulling you flush against him. He guided you to the edge of the counter, bodies locked, palm braced beside you as his weight leaned in.

Your hands creeped up his chest until your fingers clutched around the fabric of his shirt, deepening the kiss.

Lips cracked and chapped, they scratched against yours, a familiar reminder of the rugged man that held you. His calloused fingers brushed against your skin, goosebumps formed underneath his touch.

You moaned into his mouth, his tongue carefully sweeping against your lower lip–begging for entrance. You obliged and he was quick to explore the depths of you he had yet to cover.

Breathless and yearning, the two of you parted, a thin line of saliva connecting your kiss-swollen lips. You both huffed, catching your breath, keeping your touch lingering on each other’s skin.

He looked at you, hand still circling your thigh, eyes blown wide—dark and consuming.

“We shouldn’t be doin’ this…” he muttered, his words ridden with guilt and self-loathing.

Joel’s brows furrowed as his eyes scanned your face—soaking you in like he might never get to again. His thumb traced gentle, lazy circles on your hip, trying to steady his thrumming heartbeat.

“I got no business wantin’ this. Wantin’ you,” he whispered, almost like he was warning himself.

You saw the war inside him—the desire in every touch, every hesitant glance. His jaw clenched and his eyes fell to your lips again, then darted away as if the very thought burned.

“Tell me to stop,” he said, voice cracking. His forehead fell to yours, and his breath shuddered against your skin. “Please. Just say it and I’ll walk out that door.”

But you didn’t.

And he didn’t move.

His words were laced with regret, but his hands said otherwise—sliding from your waist to your back, pulling you closer, until there was no space left.

He kissed you again, softer this time. Slower this time. Like he needed to convince himself this was the last time—even if you both knew it wasn’t.

When he pulled away, his lips barely parted yours, leaving no room for air. Glossy eyed and in a haze, Joel’s strong embrace entraptured you. You looked up at him, heart still pounding, unsure if you should speak or just hold the moment still.

Joel breathed out a quiet laugh. He leaned back slightly, his forehead pulling from yours.

Your brow furrowed. “What?”

“I’m no better than my damn brother.” He shook his head, betraying every word that had fallen from his lips.

You leaned back, focusing your weight on your palms that rest of the granite behind you. “A lot more handsome, I’d say.”

A flush crept up Joel’s neck and into his cheeks as he groaned, dropping his head briefly like it might hide the grin that betrayed him. He chuckled under his breath, shaking it off like he didn’t want you to see how much it got to him.

Sliding a hand into his back pocket, he finally pulled himself out of the trance you’d held him in. He glanced at his phone and the spell fully broke.

Tommy: 3 Missed Calls Tommy: Sorry to interrupt, boss is in the shop Tommy: He’s asking for you Tommy: I said Sarah called you sick from school Tommy: You’re welcome

Joel’s face soured at the sight of the messages, reality settling back in.

“What is it?” You asked, noticing the shift from your spot on the counter.

Joel quickly shoved the phone back in his pocket and gave your thigh a soft, parting pat, his touch lingering for just a moment too long. When he looked up at you again, his smile was tight—strained at the edges.

“Tommy texted,” he muttered. “I gotta get back. Sorry, sweetheart.”

His hand stayed on your leg a moment longer before he turned to grab his boots, you following in his shadow.

—

a special thanks to my taglist ♡ @anoverwhelmingdin @auteurdelabre (message me to be added or removed)

#joel miller #tlou #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #joel miller x female reader

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13tinysocks · 16 days ago

Text

My Dead Girlfriend

The desert is starting to get to you. Omni Mark is forced to reconcile with who you are. [Invincible Variants x reader]

[Part one] [Ao3] [6] [8]

7 * Killah [7.2k]

"You look just like a sheep,

For someone with such sharp teeth,

After all this time,

Your cover's finally blown."

No Offense - Slutever

You don't know when it happened, just that it did.

You didn't think he'd do it. You'd never tried something like this, you'd said the command half-heartedly, half expecting him to shoot you instead. Now his brains were on the Italian tile and Machine Head was laughing. "Man, am I glad I bailed you out! That was amazing! Hey, meathead, bring in the other one."

You were here again. Fresh out of prison, playing executioner while looking over the New York skyline. Blood dripping down your chin. You felt like you were going to puke, you had just killed that man. You hadn't imagined your first day out of prison like this.

Machine Head leaned back in his chair, legs crossed, feet on his polished desk like he'd never left.

"Make this one do something different," he waves his hand in a circle, looking for something obscene, "you know what? Surprise me."

The guards bring him in. Converse dragging behind him, black hair stuck to his sweaty brow. You know it can't be Mark, Mark wouldn't work with Machine Head. Wouldn't be indebted enough to die. Machine Head would use him, not throw him away.

You don't remember what the man's face really looked like. Just that Mark's face was always superimposed atop it. Pleading with you not to do it.

Machine Head says, "Get on with it already, I want three more before lunch."

Your head jerked up.

"No!"

You're not eighteen in New York. Not angry enough yet at Mark to want him to die. Instead, you're baking in GDA issue armor, soaked in sweat underneath, ass gone numb from sleeping while sitting.

"Good morning." Your neck aches as you force it up. Lensless stands over you, shins at your back. Smiling at you despite the fact that you shot his eye out. The wound had started to scab. Remnants of the actual eye either fell or were picked away. His eyelid sagged around nothing but a pale pink background.

He looked terrible, but you don't feel bad. Instead, you wished you were dreaming again so you could kill him in Machine Head's office.

You rolled up, scanning the scene. Still trapped in the desert. The fire from last night had long since went to ash and most of the Marks seemed to be gone. Just you and Boner Boy.

No skin off your back, but still you asked, "Where are they?"

Lensless shrugged, "Probably looking for a way out. I called bids on babysitting duty."

A shadow passed overhead. You watch the Viltrumite (man, you needed a better name than that) pass overhead, holding thin rolls of material. He lands by a structure that hadn't been yesterday, half of a shoddy tent frame that was meant to keep you all out of the heat.

"Dude says he's helped build homes on other planets or something." Lensless says behind you. "Which is sooo lame. Why be a Viltrum enforcer if you're not always killing people- like me. 'S the best part'a the gig!"

You chose not to acknowledge that. Started walking toward the new structure as the Viltrumite took off for more material. Lensless keeps pace, "He said to tell you to like, not mess with it until he finished the supports. Something about sand being annoying."

You don't nod or acknowledge him, but you change course. Headed for a heap that looked like it could fit one. You just needed to be a little cooler. Just a little bit of shade so you could think beyond the heat cooking you inside the armor.

Lensless walks backwards in front of you. Smiling dopeily despite his lost eye. "Sooo, are you gonna use your powers on me again?"

You swallow. Feeling no power ready to go. Whatever Angstrom was, it took everything to control him for those few seconds. You don't reply, propping a knee inside the hollowed out mess of rebar and wire.

"Are you ignoring me?"

It takes some wriggling but you get inside with enough room to turn around and face him. Not out of respect for the conversation but because this kid scared the shit out of you. You were about two degrees cooler but it's not enough. The sun is still rising, a red boil over the dunes. Your throat is stuck closed, lips chapped. You can't take much more of this place and it's only been a day. You thought about taking the helmet off but he shoves himself into the opening to pout at you and you decide not to.

"Can you not hear me or something?" He waves a hand in front of your face. "Helllooooo."

You want him to shut up, so you say, "I'm tired."

"Then go back to sleep, I can keep watch but-" he holds up a finger, dopey grin returning to his face, "only after you use your powers on me!" Maybe if you didn't move he'd think you'd gone back to sleep and- "Your breathing isn't that fast when you're sleeping. I know you're still awake, you can't ignore me." He's smiling but the good-naturedness had seeped from his tone.

"And if I do?" You try, voice forced even.

His eye sparkles with the challenge. "Oh! I see how it is! I'm gonna have to make you use them on me! I prefer it this way actually."

He grabs you by the ankle and rips you out of your metal cave. Your armor screeches as sharp edges scratch its back; he would have shredded your flesh if you had taken the armor off. You landed in the warming sand, belly up with Lensless already atop you. Sitting on your hips, not acknowledging the fists you threw to his hard chest or the thrashing dance you were doing under him. You couldn't get up. His thighs were squeezing you in place like a vice and you were on the verge of hyperventilating.

He leans forward, one hand landing beside your head, sinking into the sand and bringing him closer, the other reeling back. Dark hair falling over his face. "Okay, you better use 'em now, cuz if you don't-" the fist comes forward a quick inch but you flinch- which makes him laugh. "You'll have to stop the next one!"

You can't. He doesn't know you can't. You had to give up the most vulnerable secret you had to survive. "I-"

The fist comes down before you can finish. Caught in a snap by a white-sleeved arm. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Isn't it obvious?" He seemed to really believe it, what else could he possibly be doing?

No smile is cracked at the attempted joke. Lensless is yanked off of you and thrown into the atmosphere.

He holds a hand out to you, gray loincloth or whatever it was flapping in the breeze and whoop there it is- your name is Gray now, baby. You don't take it, standing and letting sand slink off the armor.

"I don't need your help." You say, though you clearly did and he knew it.

Lensless lands a few feet away, kicking up dust. "That was rude, dude." Gray only looks to you, does a shallow nod and takes off to work on the tent. Lensless watched him, frowning, "He'll definitely kill me if I try that again."

"Good." You start looking for more shade, preferably not covered in metal.

"I kinda wanna try that again." Of course.

***

You don't know how, but you convinced Lensless to not attempt assaulting you for funsies. Said you'd fight him eventually, on your terms to give you the best shot. You had zero intention of actually doing that, but he loved the idea of you trying your hardest on him- he shelved trying to punch your lights out to force your hand. You stood with your back pressed flat to a sheet of concrete, standing in the minuscule shade while he puttered around.

The other Marks returned in a slow trickle. Angry and dejected. Tracksuit was first, swearing he searched the planet top to bottom only to find jackshit. He shoved himself in the same hole you did and rested- you think anyways, you couldn't see his face. Emperor was next, complaining so loud it made your migraine from yesterday return. He usually had slaves to do meandering tasks like that for him and he made it very known.

Baldie appeared. Landing near you and Lensless, dropping off a heap of planks, "For tonight's fire." You don't thank or acknowledge him but he lingers. "I'm going to help build that thing," he jerked his head toward the tent frame. Gray had sat himself beside it, tying loose fiber and wire together to make fabric, "want to lend a hand?"

"I'm good at destroying stuff, not making it." Lensless says.

"I wasn't talking to you."

The whole day you'd passed being still as possible so none of them would talk to you. Here one was, talking, offering up your help.

You wanted to refuse but thought better of it. Sure, you didn't have super strength, but pitching in what little you could would look good. Made you seem complacent, likable, less likely to be thrown under the bus.

You pushed off the wall. "Sure."

Lensless scrambles to his feet, "Me too!"

Baldie fixes him with a look. "Don't even think about coming near the shelter until it's done."

"But-"

Baldie holds up a scar-thick hand, "You've done your job for the day. Rest." Lensless settles, unhappily. You follow Baldie, taking note of the higher emotional intellect than the rest, maybe he wouldn't try to kill you at the flip of a hat.

Sitting beside the frame were organized piles of material Gray had gathered. Wood, scraps of wire mesh, dirty fabric slips, thin pipes. The frame fluttered in the breeze but holds. The sand was too fine to stake down but Gray had removed his kilt, dug a hole, piled it with sand, and used it as a weight to keep the anchor point in place. He'd done the same using larger fabric scraps along the line of the structure.

All there was left to do was painstakingly weave tiny materials together to make walls. At least it was better than getting murdered by Lensless.

You got to work, which was slow going even with Gray and Baldie's guidance. Super speed didn't help in cases of arm knitting dried out trash together. Gray doesn't speak, sat there on a corrugated metal sheet as not to ruin his white suit. Baldie does, giving pointers on how to keep your fabric from falling apart for the millionth time. He'd learned it after observing Gray do it a few times. "Arm under arm, like this, then pull through."

"Like this?" You do as he did, your trash fabric loose and full of holes.

"...Close enough."

You work in silence until you can't take it anymore. You see Gray stealing glances because he couldn't tell when you weren't looking with the visor. You can't see Baldies eyes but you feel them on you. "How long is this thing even going to hold? I mean, this sand, it's almost like water." You ask because you can not deal with real questions right now like if you're all going to die out here if no one finds any food or water.

Baldie tightly shrugs, "I just know he should know what he's doing. Don'cha- solider?" The word, benign, comes out like a slur.

Gray knots an end. His fabric almost blanket sized while yours and Baldies were like dishtowels. "The way the tent is held down, should allow it to move with the dunes." Gray's voice is affirmed. He's done this before. "For now, we only need one side complete to keep the sun off you during the day." Yet he didn't stop you both from working on the other walls.

"Off me?" Surprise is obvious, because of his phrasing and the fact that this was the most you'd ever heard him talk. So different from the Mark you knew. Inflection so flatly robotic.

"I'm pretty sure I speak for all of us when I say we can hold our breath in lava." Baldie says, "If your body gets two degrees over average, you'll start dying."

You don't reply, true but unfair.

Others return. Scars who is just as bitchy as Emperor. Threatening literally anybody who looked at him. Which Lensless gladly did with his one eye. Omni arrived just in time to stop them from murdering each other. He'd have liked to help build, but was so caught up in keeping the peace, he couldn't.

As the sky dulled gray Mohawk made an entrance. "Well, that was just a big fat waste of fuckin' time."

"I'm sure the last of us will come bearing good news," Omni says.

You listen, picking up as many planks as you could carry to bring them to the half-tent. Shoddily woven fabric leaned over where the sun would be tomorrow morning. Gray had the foresight to lay metal sheets down where the fire would go so it wouldn't shift in the sand and potentially cause your new home to go up in a cloud of smoke.

"Bearing good news?" Mohawk spits, picking up the rest of the wood and following you, "What are you forty?"

"We are all the same age I believe."

Mohawk rolled his eyes. "Can you fuckin' believe this guy, babe?"

You climb up the dune the tent sat atop. Sliding back a little with every step, refusing Mohawk or Omni's help because you hated how they talked about you.

Mohawk puts his planks down beside yours. Gray moves forward to optimize their positioning for maximum heat. "Aww, come on babe, don't ice me out."

"Trouble in paradise?" Tracksuit snickers, leaning back on the unused pile of scrap. His jacket halfway zipped down like the temperature wasn't about to dip into the negatives. A wifebeater covered most his skin, leaving the tops of his collarbones exposed.

You sit close to Baldie and Gray because you couldn't be warm and stay away from all of them. You had to choose so you did, the most normal of the bunch. Wasn't saying much.

Mohawk settles as close to you as he can get with Baldie's brick wall of a body blocking him, "You could say that."

There is maybe a minute of peace and quiet.

"Are we all thinkin' what I'm thinking?" Mohawk asks.

"That you need to shut up?" Emperor says.

"That we're down two and they're not coming back."

The realization settles in. Phantom and Maskless never returned. You are not upset in the slightest. Less work for you.

Tracksuit fidgets with his jacket zipper, "Think they're lost?"

"Could be." Omni breaks off a plank piece to throw in the fire. "They also may have found something."

"If they found something, they shouldn't keep us waiting." Emperor says.

"Maybe they want to keep it to themselves." Scars gives you a significant look. You were glad for the visor hiding your emotions. Forgetting he can hear your breath catch. They all can.

You weigh the options of possible comebacks. What would get you killed, what would get you verbally dressed down. Nothing seemed good when you had no way to defend yourself.

Omni takes the choice away, changing the subject, "We should consolidate everything we have."

"Wha'dya mean?" Tracksuit says.

"We should treat individual belongings as collective belongings," Omni says, "one of us may have something that can help us along."

Nobody goes for their pockets, wherever they'd be on their stupid supersuits.

"I'll go first." Omni's fingers disappear into an invisible pocket alongside his upper thigh. Pulling out a laminated square of shiny paper. He looks at it before letting it drop on the ground for all to see. "It's all I brought along."

You lean forward, mouth going dryer than it already was after a day in the desert. You're looking at a photo of you, not really you, but it's the same face, same hair, same body. Grinning in white, holding a bouquet. Your wedding day. Mark beside you, looking fine in his tailored suit.

You look from him in the photo to the man standing by the fire. His hair had started to streak through with gray. You hadn't noticed till now, shining almost red in the firelight, hadn't the time to pay attention to his hair. How long had it been since that picture was taken? How long had you been dead for him?

Looking back at yourself, you found an unexpected hot tear slipping down your cheek. Thankfully hidden in the visor. You looked so happy and in love- with Mark Grayson of all people. You got the life you wanted, then died only to be replaced by a worse version of yourself. Jesus, wasn't this all so fucked up?

Your existentialism was cut short by something being tossed atop the photo. A carton of alien cigarettes, nine spilling out the top, wrapped in blue paper.

"I'm jus' showin' cuz he did, but none of you touch the things, got it?" Tracksuit leaned forward, ready to lunge for the cigarettes if need be. "They're mine." His passive growl rivaled that of Scars when it came to your personage. "Oh and," another thing was thrown out, a small pack of-

"Are those fucking baby wipes?" Mohawk cracked a laugh.

"I don't got gloves like you, dipshit. Sometimes blood gets all sticky and gross and I just don't like the feeling, alright?" Tracksuit tensed, "Like yeah, love to murder people n' all but have you seen some of the shit that's out in the universe? You never ripped a Quinobian in half with nothing to wash it off? Fuckin' nasty."

Laughs pitter round, but nobody else adds to the pile. Distrust too taught.

"Broke outta prison to get here," Baldie fills the quiet, "I got nothing."

"I've goooooot-" One thing then another comes out of assorted hidden pockets on Lensless's suit. Collectables like finger bones and half-rotted ears.

"Dude, that's disgusting." Tracksuit comments, but he keeps on going.

A swath of cloth maybe a meter long from something old, a delicate necklace originally silver but gone brown with blood, human teeth, pocket lint.

Lensless tiptoes to the growing pile, holding up the necklace. Jewel glinting in the light. He holds it out to you, "Was gonna give this to you when I first saw you again, but you started shouting and I got too excited and everything happened so fast. So, here. I chopped off a really pretty lady's head to get it for you."

He's smiling puppy dog-ishly. Murder wasn't something you were morally opposed to, but Jesus. Was it really necessary for her to die over a necklace? Something twists in your gut. The face of Mark Grayson, seemingly innocent with something wicked beneath, genuinely interested in you and your affection. It made you want to scream and puke.

Omni caught your discomfort like a scent. "Give it to her when we make it out of this desert. For now, it could be useful to hold something together."

Lensless looked at him suspiciously. "Hold what together? You're not plannin' on stealing a gift I got for her, are you?"

"I'd never," you believed him on that. "Let's just keep going. Save sentimentality for a different time."

Lensless frowned. Dejected you didn't immediately, and graciously with sloppy kisses, accept. He rolled back on his heels, dropping the necklace in the pile and finding his seat with a frown.

The electronic cuff clicked as Gray took it off his wrist, adding it gently to the pile. "It automatically maps surroundings." He says. Off the side of his hip came a disk that when he pressed at its center became an oxygen mask.

"Good." Omni says, "We'll be able to search out further. What else?"

Out of a mini hip satchel came vials. Thin and shining and filled with unlabeled substances. The other Marks seemed unimpressed, but you had no clue what they were and leaned forward to look.

"For extreme wound care," he says to you and only you. Leaving the rest of the details for you to figure out.

"Tch. Look at you walkin' around with medicine like some-" Mohawk couldn't find a good insult, so he just said, "dickhead. Check it." Out his pocket came a box of mints and a spray pen of some kind. He threw them in the pile before looking up at you, "Gotta taste good and smell fresh for my girl."

His sleazy grin. The flipping in your gut. You can't help saying, "Ew."

He chuckles, casually tossing out a single wrapped condom. "Just putting it out there by the way."

"Ew," you repeat.

Then comes out a ring, a plain metal band with a sun embossed on its outside. He looks at you but can't bring himself to explain. It was catching up to him now, drunkenly slow, weird this all was. He throws it on the pile without comment.

Next came a fancy-looking pen from Emperor. "I was expecting to be making political moves." He says when Mohawk makes fun of him.

Last and definitely least, Scars. He pulls out a black metal ring, clicks its side to open it fully, revealing cuffs. Thick and strong. "I had plans for you, my dear." His words are like spiders crawling on your skin. "I like the fight but you never understood when it was time to stop." The last words held a bitter weight. Like he trying to hide his anger at you for killing yourself, despite the fact that you were very much alive.

Eyes fall to you. They expect a response. A retort. You have nothing to say and have to fight the urge to curl into a tighter ball.

"Still have that shit you chugged?" Mohawk prods and you realize they're not looking for you to fight with Scars. Though Scars desperately wants you to fight him. They want you to empty your pockets.

Your fingers feel thick and uncoordinated in your pockets. First came your apartment keys, still with the room number card tied on. Then there was a phone charger, bitten down to the wire in multiple places by Caligula. The first bottle of codeine, then the second. Your phone, at nearly full battery, thank God. When it was set down the lockscreen flashed and you swore all the Marks leaned forward a fraction to get a look. Caligula looked back at them all, sun on his blue eyes, belly exposed to the air.

"Hey, it's that cat you killed!" Lensless grins at Mohawk who scowled.

"I didn't kill it."

"Sure you didn't."

"He didn't." You say watching your phone screen go dim then black. "Michelle found him. He-" Your eyes were burning, fuck, why were you about to cry? "He's with Cecil now." Your throat was starting to close. Panic sinking in. What if he died? Oh God, you were such an asshole to your cat and you left him with Cecil fucking Stedman.

"Oh, he's totally gonna do batshit experiments on your cat!" Lensless twitches with excitement, tongue darting out of his mouth, like he was trying to taste your sorrow in the air like spun sugar.

"Stop that." Omni's voice is hard but when he speaks to you, it goes soft, "Anything else?"

You bite your lip to make the feelings stop. Unbuckling the belt, you set it down gently. "Buch'a GDA shit. No idea how good it all is." Then finally, your wallet. You toss it with no regard, letting it bounce once, twice, then its contents spill out over the sand. Sliding different affects to different feet.

Mohawk is first to grab something. "Whoa, babe, is this your license?" Mohawk flips the card over in his fingers. Chin knocking back like he'd been suckerpunched. "Whoa-ho-ho! Who's Cheryl Swanson?"

"Not important. We may be able to melt the plastic down and use as glue or something." You say, regretting your disregard of your wallet.

Tracksuit grabs a card, because as annoying as the drama surrounding you was- it was still entertaining. Best TV this side of the desert. "Gerald Polastri. That yer boyfriend?" Man, did he love stirring the pot.

Mohawk snatches the drivers license out of his hand. "No way! He's fuckin' ancient! You don't like guys that old do ya, babe?!"

Ignore them. Ignore them and they'll shut up eventually.

"Who the hell is Danny Olsen?" The license bends and breaks in Scars grip.

"I've got a," Lensless holds the card to the light. Squinting his one and only good eye. "Kennith Green." He flipped the card over and over between his fingers. Making it a blur. An advanced version of that old pencil flipping trick he did back in school before dad pulled him out.

Emperor gave into the childish temptation, swiping a card. The person looked unimportant and unfuckable. The idea of you with them made him sick. "Got a lot of notches on your belt, hm?"

Baldie withheld comment and didn't reach for a card. Your life, your body- it didn't affect him, even if the idea of you with someone else hurt him as much as that Klaxus plant venom injected into his blood.

Omni's pulse did not rise, nor his fist clench. He was perfectly level and even. Plastic had no effect on his mindset whatsoever.

Gray felt no sorrow or angst. He immediately knew what the cards were, because he'd done the same sort of collecting over the years. Back in his Viltrum suite were pieces of armor, mounted skulls, and broken blades displayed on his walls. It was against Viltrum customs- taboo but not illegal. He and his father both had a soft spot for trophies.

You didn't know of the solidarity you and Gray held. You felt your cheeks heat as you tried to find the words. Forced to remember all of those people dying. You telling them to die, them doing it without a second thought. Shame wasn't something you had the room to feel after so many years in the field. Still, death could sometimes be... unpleasant. Sometimes the people you killed stuck with you.

Much as you didn't want to talk, you'd rather they not speculate about your sex life. The truth was better for once.

"Cheryl was a mole." You say. "Gerald didn't pay what he owed. Danny tried to leave. Kennith..."

He looks straight ahead. Eyes glazed. Cheeks shining with tears he no longer shed. You don't remember why he had to die. Just that he was first in line. Dragged into Machine Head's office sobbing. Asking you, "Please don't do it. Please, please. My wife is dying. Please, I just need more time. I can pay. Please."

Machine Head waved his hand. "What is with people and the dying wife thing? Like, I get it, you're sad! Boo hoo. I don't fucking care and I checked your accounts, you've been squirreling my money away to run off with that dying wife of yours. Nice plan, jackass. (Y/n), if you'd get on to doing your job?"

"Wait, what's the deal with the Kennith guy?" Lensless rocks back and forth. Excited by all the death and his imaginings of you murdering people. "Did you fuck him then kill him?"

"No. I just killed him, nothing special about it." He was your first. The kind you remember.

You nod toward Emperor, seeing the back of the license. "Jenna sold in our territory." To Baldie, "Roshanna killed one of us." To Gray, "Seth was a fucking freak." To Omni, who wasn't holding a card but looking disgustedly at the one that fell by his boots, "Alex, I dunno, I was sent to kill him so I did." Your eyes go over them one after another. Their anger fading, replacing with something else. "Satisfied?"

You realize. Most of them didn't know you were a killer. A gang member.

Your hand goes to the visor, it'd press to your eyes if not for the covering. "Shit."

Through the days of carnage, thinking you were dead a second time, you killing your ex in self-defense, then the fight with Angstrom- he hadn't fully grasped the situation. He hadn't looked back and thought about why Angstrom bit off half his tongue. In the heat of the moment, he brushed it off, thinking it some swipe of luck to be taken advantage of and forgotten.

He hadn't seen something physically come out of you. So he hadn't thought powers. He wouldn't let himself. Because you couldn't have powers. You couldn't be a murderer. You couldn't.

He looked down and saw the photo of you on your wedding day. The same woman that took hours picking out a cake flavor, holding a fork to his lips with a smile. The same woman that begged him to relax, be with her more. The same woman that forced him to act on the worst day of his life. After all, you'd said, "I'd rather die than be with someone like you," when you'd found out the truth.

He wanted an identical re-do. But the license at his feet...

"I was wondering why you were listening to that skinny robot guy." Mohawk interrupted his thoughts. Brought him back to the present. "So you're like an assassin or something? That's hot."

You bristle but try to respond evenly, "I do what I have to."

The words are like an arrow to his heart. You are a killer and you sound like you don't even care.

"Do'ya like it?" Lensless is practically kicking his feet. A few more gory details and he'd be rocking a hard on.

"Dude, of course she does, she kept trophies in her wallet!" Mohawk flipped the card in his hand. "Got any pictures?"

"Digital evidence gets people caught. If I were caught, I'd be more in debt than I already was."

"Debt?"

You'd said too much. Change the subject, now. You point to the codeine, not wanting to share but knowing you can't stop anyone from taking it. "If we don't find water soon, we can ration that out. It's not water but-"

"Not water?" Tracksuit snorts, "That's straight up lean, dude. Do you seriously drink that shit no candy, no soda just fuckin' raw? Gross, man."

Omni knew little of drug trade. Didn't bother with crimes he deemed petty, but now he wished he had. He wanted to bother very much. "That's a lot of... substance. Where did you get it?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" You say.

"Yes, I would."

Lensless zips forward, trading a license for a bottle. "Since when's your name been Toby Rogers?"

"You stole it." Omni realizes aloud. Truth starting to sink in. Ache squeezing his heart. Were you dependent on the substance? Were you high right now? No, no he'd be able to tell if he listened to your heart and breathing hard enough. You were stone-cold sober. He hoped.

"Yeah, so she could power the fuck up and murder Seventeen." Mohawk looks at you with pride as a ripple goes through the group. Those who weren't there were processing. "Ridiculously hot, by the way, babe."

"Stop calling me babe."

"Rather, I call you Dregs?" He waggled his brows like the name could mean something dirty, "What's that mean by the way? Like, how'd you get it?"

"Don't call me that." You snap, hard, too hard because the shitheads of the group smelled blood in the water. A poker to prod at your pride with. An insult they didn't understand and didn't care about as long as it agitated you.

Mohawk went to pry some more but Scars spoke over him, "You killed Seventeen?"

Omni was just going to ask. That and the million other questions floated around his head; You did drugs? You killed? Why? How?

"Made him snap 'is own neck." Lensless mimed the motion, ending up half lying down with his tongue lolling out his mouth, "Never seen anythin' like it!"

Scars didn't quite believe it. To him, you were a coward who couldn't face the people after becoming his fuck pet. "How?"

You were under no obligation to spill your guts to these assholes. However, making Scars believe you could and would kill him just might make him and the others back the fuck off. Even a little.

"Swimcap too."

"Swimcap? Oh, number Twelve!" Lensless snapped, straightening. They didn't have nicknames for each other like you did but numbers. Suppose it's more efficient.

"I think you're forgetting I killed Twelve." Scars gestured to his chest. Yellow stripe gone brown with the dried blood from the same man.

"Why did he attack you?" You shoot back. He has no response, because he doesn't know.

Lensless tilted his head, "But we would've heard you talking?"

Anger sparks in Omni's chest. How did Seven, that childish and half-eyeless version of him, know more than he did about you?

"Not telling." You say.

Emperor snorts, "I saw you make that guy shoot himself. You just pointed Twelve to Sixteen, didn't you?" And there goes that hidden trick of the trade.

Scars, Sixteen apparently, grins. Scar stretching, exposing more of his gums and teeth. "You really tried to kill me?"

"That was the idea."

"Then what?" Emperor speaks over Scars before he can say something prison-worthy. "Were you just gonna lure us out one by one to kill us? As if that'd work. You're stupider than I imagined."

Mohawk kicked at his heel, "Hey."

Emperor kicked back, "Hey, yourself."

While they went back and forth Scars zeroed in. "So Dregs, you do work the GDA in this timeline." Memories swirl round his head, going to his dick. "Interesting."

"I had no idea who Cecil Stedman or what the GDA was until yesterday."

"Then why were you working with him, hm?" He's eerily still, watching you, and you find yourself preparing for a blow.

"Because my apartment was gone, boss was dead, and these guys," you look from Mohawk to Lensless to Emperor, "fucking murdered all my plan B's."

Scar's fingers twitch. You could sense he was going to be an asshole. Thankfully, Baldie cuts in, "Why were you-" he holds up the license, "doing this?"

"Was your dimension's version of me not killing people and facilitating drug trade?" You spit out like the idea is ridiculous. As if the idea didn't make you insanely, bitterly jealous.

"No?"

You catch the twinge of hurt in his voice and hone in. Needing to unleash this anger on somebody you guessed wouldn't kill you over it. "What? Am I not what you were expecting? Did (Y/n) not pass off oxy to her prison guards for an extra pudding cup?" You'd never admit it but you sort of missed the jailhouse pudding. Nothing like it.

He perks at the mention of incarceration. "You went to prison?"

Your laugh is a single, mean note. "Went to prison? Mark put me there, asshole."

At the use of his name, their name, from your mouth used on this lesser version of themselves, their eyes collectively narrow. Lips collectively thin. Baldie's hands are out like he's pleading with you, "I didn't-"

You laugh at the response, high and involuntary, "Of course, because that what your guy's fucking logic is, right? Cuz clearly you're the same guy who ruined my fucking life, I don't see a difference." Besides the obvious baldness and alien prison jumper.

Baldie frowned, folding in on himself at the insult. "I came to save you. Not to force you into anything. I just wanted to keep you safe."

"From what? From yourself? Didn't you kill me in your own world?"

"This isn't a good time, you're upset-"

"I'm upset because Mark isn't fucking dead and I'm here with you people!" Your hands are trembling fists. Usual coolheadedness evaporated off your sweat sticky skin. You've said too much, again. Stupid. God damn it, so stupid. But you were just so thirsty, so hungry. So cold even by the fire. So done with all of their prodding, followed by the soft gestures.

"What'd he do to you?" Omni asks what they're all thinking.

"I don't care what he did to you. I'll fuckin' kill 'im." Mohawk snarls.

It's stupid and funny. Mark saying he'll kill Mark. Too much to process.

"What'd he do? You all destroyed my planet and got me stuck on this empty desert planet!" You try to calm down, taking a shuddering breath to keep the contempt for any and all versions of Mark out of your voice. "What he did to me was mutual, I fucked him over and he got payback. That's all."

It's a lie. Gray can sense it immediately. He's unsure if the others can.

"Bullshit." Tracksuit points at you like you're some TV show character. To him you are. "Calling it now, you're so in love with him!"

"I only love Caligula."

"Is that the cat?" Baldie smiles a little, intrigued. You'd loved animals. Had so many rescues that you hid from your landlord.

His innocent smile softens you the slightest amount. Curbing your anger. "Look, I'm not your dead girlfriend or wife or whatever, please stop treating me like I am." You say, quieter, more subdued, forcing your cool. All eyes on you. A mix of surprise, interest, and deep sorrow.

The fire snaps with finality. This conversation is over. You can finally rest. Reel at all you've revealed. Recoup yourself. Think of what it'd feel like when your powers come back and you could kill them all.

"Well," Lensless breaks the quiet tension like it isn't there, "I don't care if you're not the original (Y/n), cuz you're still my (Y/n)."

Your head lifts from where you'd hung it. "I told you to stop."

His brow lifts with a smile. "Why don't you make me? I know you can."

Omni, Scars, Tracksuit, and Baldie seem to grow closer. Interested in seeing your acts of spoken violence firsthand.

You make a point of looking at Gray, your earlier savior from Lensless. Who'd been watching the whole exchange silently. Making mental notes.

"No." You say.

"Is it because you can't?" His words are a dare. "You used 'em pretty liberally before. Why not now?" He's got you figured out, little fucker was smarter than he acted. And he just exposed your weakness to the rest of them.

"Because it's not productive right now." You dodge and weave through his jabs. Hoping you didn't look scared and defensive but knowing you do.

Under his lenses, Tracksuit rolls his eyes. "Jesus, just use 'em so he shuts up."

"I still don't believe you made Twelve attack me. Show us." Scars goads.

"I think you should kill the guy," Mohawk says, gesturing to Scars with a grin.

Emperor had rolled to lay on his side. "Everybody shut up. I want to sleep." Nobody listened. He lay, one eye and ear open for all the drama.

Omni doesn't join in the jabs but he watches intensely. Needing to know if what he heard was real.

"Stop." You don't expect Baldie to say it, but he does. "(Y/n)'s right. This is stupid, we know what she can do, stop goading each other. Is there any other contraband?"

Many of them had more they weren't showing. Little keepsakes of you they refused to give up.

Nobody came forward. He went on, "Listen, one of us should take the oxygen mask and head out now. Sooner we find help, the sooner we don't have to deal with each other anymore."

Attention slides off you and a debate begins on who to go. You are deeply grateful. Almost feeling a little bad for snapping at Baldie. Almost.

Cases are made. Speed and stamina are boasted with winks shot your way. In the end, Omni is the one who takes the mask. He didn't verbally spar for it. Just took it and set it on his mouth. He could hold his breath in space for two weeks, they all could. But that was without getting hit or over exhaustion. He had no idea what he would be getting into. If there were hidden threats. Best to stay on the safe side.

The others jab at him but don't jump at the bit. Nobody wanted space duty, to be away from (Y/n) that long. He needed time to process. To think. About his darling wife turned cold killer, drug trafficker, and souped-up criminal. Just looking at you in that bloody GDA armor hurt his soul.

He started, hovering feet off the ground, "If any of you touch my wife while I'm gone, I'll-"

"Hey."

He looked down at you. Felt your burning gaze through the mask. "I'm not your wife."

Your shared vows about love reaching across spacetime said otherwise.

"Seriously, I'm not." You almost sound humored, "And if I ever met a version of me stupid enough to marry you? I'd murder that numb cunt bitch with my bare hands." You're being inflammatory on purpose. You're hungry and dehydrated. He knows it, but still bristles at the insult. He was hoping to leave on a good note.

"Language," he says it with a frown before shooting off into the icy depths of space, blasting powdered sand at all of you.

Two thousand miles away, Phantom emerges from the sand. Pulling Maskless out, heaving and coughing up the stuff. "Please don't tell me the tunnel collapsed again." They flew feet above. Watching the silky sand sink down, filling the chasm for the fifth time. "Fuck's sake."

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saquesha13 · 9 months ago

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!!Tattoo artist Eddie!!

Steve never imagined himself as a tattoo kind of guy. But back in ‘85 after the mall fire, he ended up getting a small matching tattoo with Robin. Just a simple little ice cream cone on his inner wrist - Robin’s idea really. Something about almost burning to death together in a fire really seemed fitting for matching permeant ink on their skin.

It opened Steve’s eyes, changed his perspective, widened his horizons if you will on the whole idea of a tattoo.

Even just a dumb ass ice cream cone that bystanders see on his wrist, that they probably assume means jack shit but in reality it means the whole world to Steve - is pretty fucking cool.

So, Steve hears about this really talented tattoo artist in Chicago and knew he wanted this guy to do his next piece.

The shop is smaller than Steve expected, smack dead in the center of the city and Steve arrived 30 minuets early to his appointment because he was pretty damn nervous.

This tattoo is not as… innocent as his matching ice cream cone with Robbie’s. It isn’t as meaningful either…

Well, okay, it still has meaning, but only to Steve. He isn’t the kind of guy to get a tattoo just because. Tattoos are expensive first of all, and he doesn’t want his entire body covered in ink. That just isn’t his style. But a peek of a tattoo here and there? Yeah, that’s not bad, that what El would call bitchin’.

“Steve? Eddie is ready for you.” The petite blonde at the front desk smiled, her warm bubbly aurora feeling so oddly displaced in a shop like this, so far from what Steve was expecting.

“Ah, okay, thanks uh…”

“Chrissy.” She brushed her bangs out of her eyes before pushing back the black beaded curtain leading to the back room.

“Thank you, Chrissy.” Steve hoped this girl couldn’t see just now nervous he was as he ducked between the beads. He was just starting to let his eyes roam around the gothic decor of the room when the hottest fucking man Steve has ever seen walks in, taking thick chunky rings off his pale fingers and putting them in the pocket of his skin tight black jeans.

Once his rings are safely put away, he tugs the thick dark curls off of his shoulders and tied it up on his head in a knot, some strands poke out framing his face.

“Steve, right?” The sexy man speaks, apparently. His deep voice sounded like honey and pure bliss to Steve’s hears. A smile stretches across his lips making the dimples - of fucking course he has dimples - poke out on his cheeks. “I’m Eddie.”

Steve apparently broke at the sight of this man, because seriously who the hell does this guy think he is coming in looking like THAT?! His voice cracked when he tried to speak making his cheeks turn rosey shade of pink and he had to clear his throat before properly speaking.

“U-Uh, yeah, me is Steve. I-I mean, I am Steve.” He would smack his own forehead with his hand if Eddie wasn’t busy holding it, giving him a nice firm handshake. Steve’s face was burning.

Scratch smacking face, Steve wishes he could just bash his head in on the brick decorative wall in the corner. Put him out of his misery. He’s doing a mighty fine job at humiliating himself already.

“This your first time?” Eddie smirked, his voice somehow dropping lower than it was before.

“Huh?” Steve blinked, clearly confused, no lights on in his brain as his eyes darted between Eddie’s huge brown eyes to the tattoo peaking out under the v-neck of his black long sleeve shirt. God he wished he could see what that tattoo actually was, maybe lick it.

“Your first time getting a tattoo.” Eddie clarified, the smirk never leaving his face as he finally let go of Steve’s sweaty palm.

“Oh, no actually. I’ve had - “ Steve cleared his throat again, trying his dammed hardest to chill the fuck down. “Had got another tattoo before this one.”

“So, you’re not a virgin then?” Eddie winked as he slid on his rubber gloves, covering up the black inked tattoos on his broad hands that Steve suddenly wished he looked at before they were gone from his sight. Then he realized what Eddie just said and his head snapped up to the playful look on Eddie’s face.

Shit. Is Eddie actually flirting with him? Is this how Eddie speaks to all of his clients? Or has Steve finally lost his marbles?

“Nope, defiantly not a virgin.” Steve watched Eddie’s movements closely as he finalized setting up his supplies, grabbing the stencil of Steve’s tattoo. “Not a virgin with tattoos either.”

Eddie’s eyes snapped up to meet his own, something gleaming in his dark eyes that makes Steve’s levi’s suddenly feel a little too tight. The grin on Eddie’s face is down right sinful. “Well, Steve, as long as the sketch looks good to you and you are still good with the placement, we can get started.”

Steve leans over and looks down at Eddie’s sketch of what he had requested sitting in Eddie’s gloved hands. Just looking at the two words, at the way Eddie wrote the font knowing it was his work that will be forever on Steve’s body has Steve’s blush refusing to go away.

“Uh, cool. Okay. Yeah it looks good, really good.” Steve had to lean over Eddie’s shoulder to fully see the entire page, not that it was really necessary.

“Lay down on the bed, on your stomach.” Eddie gestured with his chin to the left, where the tattooing bed was. “Make sure you get those jeans off first,” Eddie huffed out a laugh as Steve was about to settle down on his belly, his face turning beat red in embarrassment feeling idiotic.

“You do want your ass tattooed still, right?” Eddie asked, his voice smug at the flustered look on Steve’s face.

“Well, yeah. Obviously. That is why I am here.” Steve scoffed, wondering why the hell he is blushing like a teenage girl in this sexy ass man’s presence. Usually Steve is the one making people blush, not the other way around.

“I don’t usually undress my clients… but I would for you.” Eddie nibbled on his bottom lip, making damn sure that Steve’s face stayed tomato red as Steve swore he saw Eddie look at him from head to toe.

He had to take a deep breath to get his damn body to cooperate downstairs before unbuttoning his jeans and tugging down his fly so he can scoot the denim and his grey briefs down over the curve of his ass leaving them just barley covering his junk in the front and staying on his legs.

He couldn’t bring himself to say anything as he climbed on the bed on his stomach, not trusting his voice whatsoever as his eyes said more than enough, keeping them planted on Eddie’s.

“This good?” He rested his chin on his hands, his entire bare ass out in the open, wondering why the hell Jonathan Byers failed to mention how damn hot his favorite tattoo artist was.

Eddie for once seemed a little lost for words. He doesn’t stay in the room when his clients undress, it’s unprofessional. He never ever offers to take their clothes off for them either. But for some reason his feet stopped working the second Steve’s fingers went to unbutton his jeans.

“Absolutely perfect, pretty boy.” Eddie damn near purred, wondering how he lucked out, to be the one to tattoo this angels ass. Getting fucking payed to touch his ass. To tattoo the words Bite Me on his juicy round cheeks.

It isn’t Eddie’s first rodeo tattooing someone’s butt cheeks. He’s done almost every body part at this point in his tattooing career. But fuck, no client has ever affected him, not like this.

“Skins sensitive here.” Eddie licked his lips as he stepped close to the bed, wishing he wasn’t wearing gloves so he could really feel Steve as he ran his fingers over the exposed skin before putting the shaving cream along his ass, shaving the light colored peach fuzz right off his literal peach. “Need numbing cream, sweetheart?”

“No. Don’t need numbing cream. Wanna feel it.” Steve hummed, looking over his shoulder at Eddie. Steve’s red face has faded to pink, finally calming down a bit trying to sit still so he isn’t wiggling his ass in Eddie’s face - not that he thinks Eddie would really mind too much if he did.

Eddie muttered something under his breath, his hands stilling over his ass from where he was wiping the shaving cream away with surprisingly soft hands.

It’s funny, Steve came in set on only getting one tattoo. But as he laid here on the bed, the tattoo gun buzzing as the needles push against his ass, all he can think about is coming back, getting more ink on his body, all over his tan skin as an excuse to come back and see Eddie.

To come back and get Eddie’s hands on him.

But when his appointment was over - much sooner than Steve would have liked - turns out he didn’t need to come back here.

Because Eddie invited him to go home with him.

#stranger things #eddie munson #steddie #steve harrington #steve and eddie #eddie the freak munson #king steve #steve the hair harrington #steddie blurb #steddie drabble #steddie fic idea #steddie fandom #tattoo artist eddie munson #steddie au #steddie idea

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squinch-depraved · 8 months ago

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hiii friends i'm back here's around 7k words (i think??) for y'all this one goes out to my homie 🐏 anon i love u 🐏 anon

CW: dubcon/cnc, bdsm, facefucking, breeding kink

looking out of the hotel window made you no less uneasy. you sat there for what felt like hours but was probably only minutes, staring out at the city. japan was beautiful, just like your boss had said it would be, but you were far from home, and he had whisked you away on this trip so suddenly that you didn’t have time to pack much. you were unusually tired, having only been taken on trips by schlatt in the u.s., so the massive time difference and, to be honest, this extra workload he was expecting you to shoulder, were leaving you stressed and irritable.

you snapped when someone knocked on the solid hotel door, yelling at them to “shut the fuck up!” when they continued knocking impatiently while you made your way to open it. your face flushed a deep red when you saw schlatt standing there, holding a suitcase.

“that’s a dangerous thing to be yelling at someone you don’t know in a foreign country,” he teased. “what if i was, like the cleaning lady, or something?”

“yeah, well… you’re not,” you replied, rubbing your eyes. “what d’you need?”

he holds out the suitcase. “brought you stuff. not much, just some basics. i’ll take you shopping tomorrow.”

you raised a brow at his words. “why take me shopping?”

he didn't speak until you took the suitcase from him. “’cause i feel bad for not letting you pack your shit.”

you nodded and gestured for him to come in. “can you help? i can't figure out how to close the blinds.”

he hesitated before following you in, letting the door fall shut behind him as he walked further into the lavish room he had booked for you. it was more expensive than the rooms the rest of the staff he brought with him got, but you didn't need to know that.

watching as you gestured broadly at the giant window, he chuckled and pulled a remote off the wall. he showed you which buttons to press to make a large shade come down from the ceiling and tried not to mock you when you huffed, annoyed. it was darker in the room now, the lights of the city no longer helping the dim lights on the walls to illuminate your room. you flicked on the lamps on either side of your bed and turned to face your employer once more.

“thanks,” you said, able to see his face more easily. he nodded as if he was unsure of what to say and started heading towards the door.

“i’ll be by to pick you up at 9,” he spoke. “we’ll get you some stuff and, uh… yeah, it’ll be. it’ll be fun.” he sounded like he was trying to convince himself, and you smiled softly at how sweet he sounded before catching a glimpse of the current time from the alarm clock on your nightstand. it was already almost 2 in the morning, and that gave you five, maybe six hours to sleep, and then you had to wake up and get ready. luckily you had forgotten all your stuff and had nothing to actually take forever getting ready with.

“bye, schlatt,” you called as he waved his hand and shut the heavy door behind him. once he was gone, you flopped face first onto the bed and screamed, trying your best to ignore whatever feelings were bubbling up in the pit of your stomach. after letting out your frustrations into a pillow, you stood up to unpack the mysterious suitcase.

unzipping it revealed a few t-shirts in various sizes, all old schlatt merch, a pair of luxury sweatpants that you didn’t even want to attempt to guess the price of, a few pairs of the softest socks you had ever felt, a toothbrush and toothpaste, some deodorant, shower supplies, a hairbrush and enough hair ties to last you a year, and a pair of slippers. a hoodie that you were sure was schlatt’s, due to its massive size and it smelling of him, was laid neatly on the bottom, as if whoever packed this was trying to hide it. you picked it up and brought it to your face, inhaling deeply and moaning into it softly. a small, pink, tissue wrapped package fell out of the hoodie when you unfolded it to slip it on.

puzzled, you set the hoodie down and carefully grabbed the parcel, undoing the delicate sticker keeping it sealed. when you fully unwrapped it, you were faced with several different pairs of lacy black panties, a few pairs of each different style so you could wear whatever you found comfortable. your stomach flipped at the thought of your boss carefully picking out all these pairs for you, and the notion of him picturing all of these on you while he shopped was something you would go over and over in your mind forever. but you pushed the thoughts away when you remembered he probably had people do this for him. he was a busy man, you doubted he’d care enough about this to put it all together himself. you had already forgotten that he was the one to bring you the luggage, let alone him bringing it to you in the middle of the night.

you set to work unpacking your new stuff, placing your toiletries in the bathroom and stripping yourself of your dirty clothes that you had been in for far too long. once you were naked, you took a relaxing shower with the supplies schlatt had given you, dressing yourself in just a pair of panties and his hoodie when you were clean and dry. you didn’t remember crawling into bed and falling asleep, but you swore you never slept as good as you did that night.

schlatt knocked on your door for minutes, giving you what he thought was ample time to answer. once he pressed his ear to the door and heard your alarm still going off, though, he cursed under his breath and dug into his wallet for a key.

he vowed he wouldn’t use it. he only had it in case of an emergency, he told himself. he knew he was already pushing his luck with everything he had planned for you this trip, sneaking into your room might be too much. but he couldn’t stop himself, he needed to get you up and going for the day so the whole trip wouldn’t be too off schedule.

the sight he saw when he walked in left him breathless. you were spread out in the middle of the bed, his hoodie riding up on your stomach and exposing your bare tummy, lacy black panties hugging your hips perfectly. you were knocked out, evident by the alarm blaring next to you for who knows how long.

he sighed deeply and shook your arm until you woke up in a panic, kicking violently at the presumed threat until you realized it was just him. you babbled something incoherently until you looked at the clock and your face dropped; you sprung up to get dressed, apologizing profusely.

“i’m so sorry, schlatt!” you called through the closed bathroom door. he just sat on the bed, scrolling on his phone, until you came out. dressed in his hoodie still and the expensive sweatpants, you grabbed your essentials and nodded curtly. “i’m ready. let’s go,” you stated.

“wow, and only 30 minutes behind schedule,” he teased. you glared at him and he stood up, leading you out of the room, out of the hotel, and into the shopping districts.

being out in the city with him was actually really nice; you originally thought he was going to bring more staff along, but it appeared it was just the two of you for the day. you tried not to think about how, to people watching, it might look like the two of you were together. it was hard not to ruminate on it over and over in your mind, how, if the situation were just slightly different, maybe it could’ve been a date. the thought left a bitter taste in your mouth.

he stopped once the two of you reached a wide street lined with tall buildings, each a different, massive store. looking around and inspecting their signage didn’t help, you didn’t know what any of them sold.

“pick one,” he said simply.

you looked up at him, confused. “i don’t know what the fuck any of these are,” you whispered rather loudly.

a smile played at his lips, but his face remained stern. “that’s the point, toots,” he replied. “pick one and find out.”

you squinted at him, shaking your head slightly before looking at your many options. “that one, i guess?” you gestured broadly to one a short distance away.

schlatt shook his head. “lead me to it.”

you rolled your eyes and used this as an excuse to grab his hand, turning away and hiding your burning face from him as you dragged him towards the store.

you walked in hurriedly, him trailing behind you at a much easier pace due to his long legs. once you took in your surroundings, you found you were actually quite excited. it was a massive clothing outlet, floors upon floors of all different kinds of garments. holding tightly onto his hand, you only looked around for a few seconds before you beelined it to a display of outfits and began hunting for articles of clothing you wanted.

schlatt dropped your hand and walked away, leaving you alone for a bit while you browsed before coming back with a large basket. he held onto it while you picked through your options, holding it out to you whenever you found something you wanted. into the basket went anything he even thought you liked, and you quickly realized there was no spending limit like you had presumed. you were always eyeing him warily, ready for the piece you had just picked out to be the last. but he just kept telling you to keep going, and soon you had looked through the whole section. he simply waited for you to pick another area to explore and watched as you shopped, occasionally commenting on a top or pair of pants.

“that one’s cute,” he mumbled when you held up a shirt you liked. you nodded and slipped the hanger over your neck, allowing you to pretend to try it on. he tried not to think about the idea of you actually trying the clothes on, but the image of you stripping and redressing over and over remained in his mind.

hours flew by, and you ended up leaving with several huge bags stuffed full with an entire new wardrobe. the two of you joked around a bit as you exited the store, and you were surprised to find one of your coworkers waiting for you just outside the shop.

“give ‘em your stuff,” schlatt instructed. “they’re gonna take it to your room for you so we can keep shopping.”

you blinked a few times, confused, and handed off the bags. your coworker spoke to schlatt for a few minutes and then left you alone with him again. it was quiet for a bit before your boss broke the silence.

“time to pick another store,” he said.

you huffed in disbelief at his willingness to spend even more money on you and shook your head. “i don’t wanna play another guessing game; i got lucky with that last one. can you just point me to a makeup store and we can pretend that i found it?”

he chuckled and scanned the street you were on, eyes settling on a purple building towards the end of the road. “that one might be makeup,” he said, looking back at you.

“alright then, let’s do that one.” you took his hand once more and led him to the shop, repeating the process of putting anything you wanted into a basket and waiting for him to tell you to stop. he never did, in fact, he occasionally tossed in a product or two that he thought was nice.

after a bit, you turned around to find he was a short distance away, picking out stuff at the perfume counter for you. you smiled to yourself and walked over to him, smelling the ones he was trying to decide between.

“i like this one,” you stated, pointing to a bottle on the counter.

he nodded and turned to the attendant, conversing with her for a bit before taking a fancy looking box that she handed him, presumably with the scent you picked out inside. he set it gently into the nearly full basket and looked at you.

“anything else while we’re here?” he asked, glancing down at the pile of things resting in the tote he was carrying.

with a shake of your head, you responded, “no, this is already too much, schlatt.”

you weren’t looking at him, it was hard to meet his gaze, but you heard him scoff. “i’ll tell you when it’s too much, doll, don’t you worry about that.”

your cheeks flushed, how spoiled you felt by his kindness visible on your face. “i feel really bad. this is all so expensive.”

his hand landed on your shoulder in a soft, reassuring pat. “you deserve it. c’mon, lemme go pay and then i’ll take you to one more store.”

following him to through the store was rough, he walked fast and you almost lost him a few times. but you found him easily at the checkout counter due to how tall he was; his head stood out above all the aisles. you sidled up next to him as he swiped his card, wincing at the price visible on the screen. he flicked his dark eyes over to you- the ghost of a smile was playing at his lips as he took in how uncomfortable being treated like this made you.

and then you were back on the busy street, handing the bags to the same coworker and waving bye to them as they walked off in the direction of the hotel once more. checking your phone told you it was early afternoon at this point. and he still wanted to hit another store… was he going to waste an entire day on you?

“i’ll give you some options, toots,” he said gruffly after instructing you to put your phone away. the orders from him churned something deep in your stomach. “that blue one there, this one next door to us, or that one way over there. you see the one i’m talkin’ about?” he pointed to three stores and turned to you, awaiting your response.

you thought for a moment before choosing, and it ended up being a store full of things you didn’t necessarily need, but trinkets and gadgets you loved. your cart wasn’t as full at this store, but he still bought you anything you showed interest in and you walked out with even more bags. this time, no one was waiting for you, and schlatt took your hand before leading you to a small restaurant shoved in between two large buildings. you followed him, trusting he would keep you safe, but unsure of where you were going until he sat you down in a booth and ordered food for the both of you.

you talked for a long time, savoring your meal together and sharing sentiments and memories, and you didn’t notice until he had to step out to take a call that it was almost two hours later. something about him was so comforting, intoxicating, even. he just made you feel safe. you wished the dynamic between you two could be different. why did he have to be a good boss and not one of the creepy ones? you wished he would prey on you like you so desperately wanted him to.

he came back to find you staring at the leftover bites of food on your plate, instantly worried something had happened in the short time he was away from you. “what’s wrong? are you okay?” you tried not to let how hot he sounded when he was concerned about you affect your answer.

“yeah, no, i’m fine, schlatt,” you assured him once you blinked repeatedly a few times, trying to clear your thoughts of the filthy images of him. “just, still jet lagged. i’m really tired.”

your boss nodded and went to take care of the bill quickly, sharing a quick conversation with the workers before coming back to you and offering a hand to help you up. you grabbed your bags and took his hand, forgetting to let go once you were up and walking. he didn’t seem to mind.

the gentleman that he is, schlatt took you back to your hotel room and leaned against the wall as you fished your key out of your pockets. once you found it, he stood up straight and took a deep breath.

“take a good nap. i’ll be back to pick you up for dinner.”

you eyed him suspiciously, hand frozen, outreached to swipe your keycard. “why dinner? why more? what did i do to deserve this?” you grilled him.

schlatt put up his hands innocently. “i just feel bad for not letting you pack,” he lied again. “and you’re one of my best staff, why can’t i treat you?”

“because you don’t do this for anyone else,” you groaned. “i’m just worried the rest of ‘em are gonna look at me weird.”

he shook his head, trying not to smile. “i’ll fire whoever treats you differently. promise,” he extended his pinkie towards you.

“no, schlatt, that’s the problem!” you sighed. his face remained the same, little finger still reaching out to make a deal, and you folded. “whatever, i’m gonna go sleep, just… don’t fire anyone because of me.”

pensively, he nodded. “sleep good.”

you waited for him to leave, but he just leaned against the wall next to your door again. with a loud, defeated sigh, you let yourself in and closed the door behind you. now that you saw just how many full shopping bags sat on the table, you felt even worse. he had to have spent countless thousands on you. if only you could figure out what his true motivation was for doing all this…

you couldn’t help yourself from unpacking some of your new stuff, running your fingers over your new, expensive belongings. after a bit, you remembered that you needed to be sleeping, and you put your things back before tucking yourself into the plush, comfy bed. sleep took hold of you, and you rested for hours before waking to a phone call from schlatt.

“huh?” you said when you answered, still in the clutches of unconsciousness. his laugh woke you up, though.

“jesus, i was worried i’d have to come wake you up again,” he chuckled into his cell. “i’ll be there in about an hour, start getting ready.”

“how fancy do i need to dress?” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes.

“wear that dress you picked out,” he replied. “the black one. i gotta go, i’ll be there soon, toots.” with that, he hung up, leaving you groggy and turned on from his orders. you ignored the feelings in your core and got up, changing into the dress he wanted and doing your makeup. the music you put on while you got ready did a good job of distracting you from how nervous you were, but once you had finished everything you needed to do, you perched on the edge of the bed and went over the day’s events in your mind. you had about ten minutes left until he was here to pick you up, and you counted down the seconds eagerly, unsure of if this evening would change the dynamic between the two of you.

you sprung up off the bed when he knocked at the door, grabbing a purse he had bought you earlier that you filled with your necessities for the night. opening the door revealed schlatt standing there, leaning against the frame again, dressed in a button down, slacks, and a blazer. you blinked a few times at how good he looked- you had never seen him dressed like this before and it was strange.

“what is this?” you asked quietly, taking in how nice the two of you were dressed. “this doesn’t feel like just a dinner.” you were wary of him, unsure of what his intentions were.

he rolled his eyes and scoffed, extending a hand out to invite you to join him. “will you just trust me? spent almost twelve thousand dollars on you today and you won’t even join me for dinner…” he scolded and shook his head.

eyes bulging, your jaw fell open. “twelve thousand??? schlatt, oh my god!!” you sounded horrified, and you spun around to look at all the bags again. “i can’t believe you would do that, i feel so awful.”

“makin’ you feel awful is not the goal, doll. now can you please just take my arm so i can treat you to the best dinner you’ve ever had?” he looked earnest enough, and you swallowed the lump in your throat before nodding and accepting his hand, determined to give him a shot.

“as long as you promise to buy me drinks,” you joked, letting the door fall shut behind you as he began to lead you down the hall to the elevator.

“i wouldn’t dream of letting you stay sober tonight,” he smiled.

you were just a bit beyond tipsy, laughing raucously at every joke schlatt was making. he had taken you to the fanciest steakhouse around, just a short walk from the hotel. the food was incredible, and the alcohol just kept coming. you suspected he slipped the staff some money earlier to get the two of you a secluded booth with an amazing view, but couldn’t prove it. all you knew was there was no one around and you could see the whole city from your seat across from him.

“i still don’t understand why you’re doing all of this for me,” you giggled, sipping your drink. “not complaining, not at all, i like being spoiled. but it’s confusing.” you were hiccupping every few words.

“you’re never gonna shut up about it, are you?” he asked, downing the last of his whiskey. “at least now you’re bein’ grateful for it. glad i could get you to admit you like being spoiled, though.”

“it wasn’t you that made me admit it, schlatt, it was the alcohol.” you leaned in close to whisper the last part and his eyes widened slightly when he smelled how strong your breath was.

“okay, toots, i believe you. i think it’s time to get you back to your room, hmm?” he sounded genuinely concerned, worried that he might have gotten you a bit too intoxicated. he couldn’t go through with his plan if you were all the way drunk, then you might not remember it in the morning- and he wanted you to remember what he was going to do to you.

“can i have dessert?”

a soft smile crossed his lips. “yeah, i’ll order us some dessert.” he flagged down some wait staff and talked with them for a bit before they left, returning a few minutes later with several different plates of different desserts.

you squealed, giddy from your sweet tooth, and sampled all of them, passing the best ones across the table with an, “ohhh, you gotta try this one!” or, “this one’s soooo good.” he nodded, taking small bites of whichever ones you passed to him. as you ate your treats, he took care of the bill, and once you had finished, the two of you were ready to go. he helped you up and out of the booth, and escorted you out of the restaurant and down the short trek to the hotel. it was dark out now, and the two of you slunk by everyone quickly. the pace he set was manageable, but only just so in the heels you were wearing.

once you two arrived at the hotel, you got on the elevator, giggling and joking with each other before stumbling out onto your floor. he walked you to your door and hesitated. you didn’t notice, though; you were just trying to find your room key in your purse. he spoke before you could, though.

“can i come in?” he asked. his voice sounded nervous.

you looked up at him, still digging in your purse. “for what?”

he sighed and pulled a keycard out of his pocket, swiping it and letting you both in. “you really wanna know why i bought you all that shit?” you entered first, him trailing behind you. there was a large, plain black bag sitting on your bed that wasn’t there when you left. you were tipsy, but you swore it was new.

“yeah, schlatt, i do.” you set your purse down on a table and turned around to face him. he was standing close to you, so close you had to look up to make eye contact. “what the fuck is all this about?”

he took a deep breath, hand coming up to rest on your waist. you flicked your eyes to where he was touching you, fireworks exploding under your skin, and looked back up at him. “i thought maybe if i spoiled you rotten you’d have a lot harder time saying no,” he spoke softly.

“saying no to what?” you questioned, raising one eyebrow at him. he walked closer to you and you backed up, him walking you to the bed until you were sitting on the edge and he was looking down at you. reaching into the black bag, he pulled out a bundle of rope and a piece of silk that you could only guess would go in your mouth to gag you. “schlatt?” you asked, voice trembling.

“i won’t hurt you, i promise. not unless you want me to,” he breathed, gently grabbing your chin. “do you want me to?”

you froze as he bent down to whisper the last question in your ear, goosebumps raising at the feeling of his breath against your neck. you couldn’t stop yourself. “yeah,” you gasped. “yeah, i do.” you felt him grin against your skin as he pressed an open mouth kiss to your throat, earning a whimper from you.

his massive hands were warm as they pawed at your dress, slipping behind you to undo the zipper. you shivered at the cool air as the garment fell from your shoulders, exposing the lacy black set you were wearing. it slid all the way off you and you kicked it away, reaching down to undo your shoes and pulling those off as well. you felt extremely vulnerable in front of him, most of your skin exposed as he pushed you down to lay on your back. he began kissing your collarbones, down to your chest, all the way down your stomach, and buried his face in your clothed heat. you moaned, face burning red, and bucked your hips up into his face.

schlatt snickered and pulled his face away, causing you to whimper at the sudden loss of kisses being planted on your clit. “this’s gonna be fun,” he mumbled, standing up and adjusting his pants. you couldn’t help but notice how tight they were. you started to speak as you sat up, but he shushed you and grabbed the piece of silk, gagging you with it and securing it around your mouth. he patted you on the head when he finished, mumbling an, “attagirl,” before grabbing the rope and positioning you with your hands behind your back.

you let out some muffled noises, confused, but obeyed. he tied your arms tightly, ensuring you were securely bound by the restraints before bringing the rope around your waist to the front and doing an intricate knot pattern, enveloping you in the cord like a harness.

schlatt paused after a while of tying, gently undoing your bra and removing it before drinking the sight of your bare chest in. he only savored the sight of you for a moment before resuming the knots.

once the rope came back around to your hips, he flicked his eyes up to look at yours and knelt down between your legs. you couldn’t have said anything even if you weren’t gagged, the visual of him pressing his face into your core again stole the air from your lungs. his dark, lust-filled eyes stared up at you, as if he was trying to memorize the sight of you.

luckily, he didn’t have to.

you whined when he pulled away, and yelped when he delivered a sharp smack to your face.

“shut the fuck up, doll,” he warned. “i promise you i’m gonna make you feel good. now lemme finish tyin’ you up.”

tears stung your eyes as you nodded silently, and you feared only for a fleeting second that you had put yourself in a bad situation. but then you were too horny to care.

he tugged your panties off with one rough motion, eyeing you suspiciously when you shivered from the feeling of cool air on your cunt, but nodded almost imperceptibly when you stayed still for him. he carefully finished binding you, leaving your legs able to be moved but tightening the restraints on your arms so that you had no choice but to be obedient.

when he was done, schlatt took a step back and admired his work for a bit before reaching into the black bag again. this time, he pulled out his old camcorder and a polaroid camera. your face immediately flushed with the realization that he planned to immortalize the image of you in this pathetic position forever. you imagined him returning to watch the footage over and over, stroking his cock and panting every time. the polaroids would go in his wallet, you fantasized.

“smile, toots!” broke you out of your trance. the camera flashed, and soon it spit out a photo of you sitting there on the edge of the bed. he shook it out a bit and chuckled quietly when it developed, staring at it possessively before showing it to you. “look at you, so pretty sittin’ there for me. let me get a few more, okay? just in case,” his voice was velvet, coating you in desire and anticipation. the replay of his rich timbre in your mind was the only thing that kept you satiated while he posed you, spreading your legs apart for the last few pictures so that your wet hole was on full display.

you made the mistake of not looking directly at the camera for the second picture, embarrassed to be seen like this, and schlatt tsked when he saw the image. his big hand reached out and smacked you once more, and this time, tears started falling. that only spurred him on, though.

“awh, yeah, doll, that’s a good idea. cry f’ me.” he smiled cruelly, raising the camera to his eye to take even more photos. “but keep your fuckin’ eyes right here.”

you felt more drops fall from your eyes, unsure of if they were genuine or just to appease him. regardless, he loved it. he nearly cackled at how ruined you were beginning to look, makeup now running down your face, hair mussed. it all added to the photos, which he was collecting quite the stack of.

once he felt he had enough, he fanned them all out in his hands and swept his eyes over them. after organizing them a bit, how so you couldn’t even begin to guess, he set them on the nightstand and walked over to set the camcorder up so that it would capture everything he was about to do to you.

you admired him from behind as he knelt down in front of the camera, adjusting it and hitting record when it was ready. as soon as he did, his demeanor changed; he moved more quickly, more impatiently, as he walked back towards you, grabbed you by the throat, and spat on you.

you shied away from him slightly but continued to gaze up at him lovingly. “you’re so fucking pitiful, y’know that?” he growled. “gotta hand it to ya though, twelve thousand is quite a price. well, i guess almost fourteen after dinner. god, you really can put it away, huh? not to mention the drinks,” he smirked down at you as your eyes widened and you looked away, embarrassed to have cost him that much. “let’s find out if you’re worth that much, huh, doll?”

schlatt reached into the black bag once again, and you wondered when would be the last time. this time his hand came out clutching a vibrator he had hooked up to his phone. you froze in shock as he reached towards you with it, processing too slowly to stop what he was going to do. he wasted no time pushing it deep inside you and pulling out his phone. you whimpered quietly while he fiddled with the app, the seconds drawing on and on until you couldn’t take it anymore. and just when you were about to do something, anything, he turned it on.

spasms rocked through you; the vibrations were so intense it felt like pleasure was curling around and enveloping every nerve ending in your body. you could’ve sworn you were burning, everything felt so white-hot. stars were all you could see as you tried to adjust to the feelings ringing out from deep inside you. eventually, you stabilized, and he guided your chin to make you look into his eyes, as if he was checking to make sure you were okay. you just blinked slowly, lust clouding both of your judgements.

when he decided you were fine, he set the vibrator to an intense rhythm and began unbuckling his belt, undoing his pants eagerly before pulling out his cock and pumping it in his hand. your eyes were wide and glued to his shaft, greedily following the movement, and you didn’t notice his other hand coming up to tear the piece of silk from your face. immediately he shoved his entire length down your throat, not giving you any time to babble whatever complaints you had. his bush was flush against your face, and you cried yet again from how rough he was face fucking you. he shifted positions after a bit, his hips only faltering in pace when he turned to check that the camera had a good view of your mouth being abused. he brought one leg up to rest on the bed, allowing him to get even deeper. he was alternating between tossing his head back in pleasure and holding it up to watch you.

you, however, were sobbing, helpless to stop the ravaging of your mouth, not to even mention the constant vibrations coming from the toy inside you. you had lost count of how many orgasms you had, completely giving in to him and the endless pleasure he was bringing you. he only stopped when your thighs started shaking and you squirted all over the bed.

“jesus, toots,” he laughed, still in your mouth. “the toy still in there?”

you nodded slightly.

“attagirl,” he mumbled. he pulled out and chuckled at your desperate, heaving gasps once you could breathe properly again. “i’m gonna fuck you now, doll, okay?”

you nodded eagerly, used to having to be quiet.

“i took the gag off for a reason, toots, and it wasn’t just to fuck your throat. let me hear your words.”

“yes, schlatt, please. please, god please i need you so bad. pl—” you begged before being cut off by him pressing a sloppy kiss to your lips. you moaned in surprise and kissed him back furiously before he pulled away.

“a simple ‘yes’ would’ve done,” he smiled. the wholesome moment didn’t last long, though, soon he was taking off the rest of his clothes so he was also nude and bending you onto your hands and knees. he groaned at the sight of your pussy, ass up in the air and ready and waiting for him. you bit your lip as you sat patiently, glancing at the camera and quickly looking away while you blushed at the idea of someone watching this in the future.

he plunged a finger in, teasing you and stretching you out a bit before fishing out the vibrator and turning it off, tossing it to the side. you relaxed a bit at the momentary lack of stimulation, but yelped when he smacked your ass. you felt him lining himself up with you and tried to calm the nerves buzzing in your stomach.

when he pushed in, you let out a quiet, drawn out moan. schlatt copied you, eyes trained on where you were damn near sucking him into you, entranced by the sight of his length slipping into your dripping folds.

“god, you're so tight,” he spoke through gritted teeth. he tried to let you adjust to his size for a moment, but after a few seconds, he said, “fuck it, i can't wait any longer.” with that, he began slamming in and out of you, hard, enough to make a loud smack every time his hips met your ass.

“takin’ me so well, doll,” he praised, slowing down slightly to adjust you and keep you propped up for the camera.

you just wailed, approaching another orgasm. the clench of your walls around him signaled to him what was about to happen, and he grinned as he brought his hand around to your clit to rub circles into it.

“schlatt!!!” you screamed, tears streaming down your face.

he grunted and smacked your ass again, repeatedly, watching the recoil of it every time. “god, you sound pretty when you scream my name like that,” he growled.

you called out his name again, and again, and again, over and over until your throat was raw as he pounded you. somehow, you forgot about the camera.

he didn't, though. when he was getting close, he pulled out and spun you around roughly, glancing to make sure you were still in frame before finishing himself off and spurting his cum all over your face and chest. you sat there, staring up at him with nothing but adoration in your eyes, until he was done and he walked off to grab the polaroid. he took a few shots of you covered in his seed before putting them back and dipping his finger in it, bringing it to your lips where you greedily licked it off him.

he scoffed, trying to hide how turned on he was by that, and positioned himself between your legs, sliding in again with ease. you moaned, the sound like music to his ears— he had never heard or seen anything as beautiful as you, the sight of your cum-covered tits bouncing as he rocked his hips was sure to stay with him for the rest of his life.

schlatt didn't mean to, but his hand found its way to your throat and clutched it tightly. he only realized what he was doing when you began squirming, then thrashing in an attempt to escape his grip. he released your neck and shook out his hand, blinking his eyes a few times as he dialed back in on how good you were feeling trapped under him.

he rolled his hips skillfully, fucking into you at a brutal pace as he made sure to hit the deepest parts of you he could. at this point, your legs were hooked over his shoulders, and he was insistent on bending them even further, until he had you in a mating press underneath him. you were singing on his cock, nonstop whorish noises spilling from your lips.

“god, you’re gonna milk me dry,” he laughed breathlessly as you came around his cock for what felt like the millionth time.

“fuuuck!” you screeched, eyes rolling back into your head. “schlatt, please,” you begged him— though what you wanted, he wasn’t sure of.

“doll, you keep beggin’ me like that and all you’re gonna get is my fat fuckin’ load deep in that pussy,” he warned. you somehow understood his threat in your post-orgasm haze and lit up at the possibility of being bred by him.

“please!! please, schlatt, i’ve been so good, please give it to me,” you rambled frantically, gaze fixed on his perfect visage. his brown hair was messy, and a few strands kept falling in front of his face as his dark eyes puzzled through why you would want that. eventually, he settled on giving you what you wanted, his thrusts slowing in pace but increasing in force as he got closer and closer before burying his cock to the hilt in you and painting your walls with an enormous amount of cum. you prayed none of it would spill out the whole time schlatt was collapsed onto your chest, breathing heavily.

he watched himself pull out of you and groaned at the sight of his sperm leaking from your cunt, quickly reaching to snap some pictures and eventually bringing the camcorder to capture your ruined makeup and fucked out state. when he was done, he shut the camera off and quickly went to work untying you.

“did so good f’me, ‘m so proud,” he murmured as he worked, gently rubbing the places on your skin where the rope hurt you. he placed a kiss to every one and continued to praise you.

you couldn’t say anything, too tired from being used like that, so you just let him take care of you and stared at him in adoration.

“d’ya want me to stay the night? can i?” he asked softly once he freed you from your restraints. “i was thinking i could help run you a bath or something…”

“please stay,” you rasped, clearing your throat. “i don’t want you to go.” the last sentence was quiet, but he still heard it, evident by the smile that crossed his lips.

“alright then, toots, you won’t be gettin’ rid of me for the rest of the trip.”

#x reader #jschlatt x reader #schlatt x reader #jschlatt smut #jschlatt x you #schlatt x you #schlatt smut

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gynandromorph · 2 months ago

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the colors on idletry drive me crazy in the best way. even when the art has the 'correct' colors it still gives the vibe of a painted cel that only had a handful of shades to work with, you keep the values so consistent. so my question is, is there a rhyme or reason to how you shift hue from panel to panel, or is it all intuition from a shit ton of practice? does it have rules? if this has already been asked then i apologize for wasting your time. the analysis and explanation of your process is just very interesting and useful.

i actually have a whole ass post about the coloring style on my patreon.

colors are selected with ~5 primary methods: 1) selecting for mood. the red foreboding panels need no explanation for why i picked them. 2) selecting one color i wanted to be dominant, then coloring the rest of the image around them, usually making the background either complementary or neighboring colors. 3) altering colors from the previous panel to "slide" the hue to a nearby color. 4) selecting for symbolism. many panels have hot pink or teal as representations for jessie and shiloh either overtaking the panel or lurking in the background. or 5) copying a previous panel's colors as a reference or callback to the previous panel and its contents. these methods can obviously be combined, such as with the three shots of the city, which slide to progressively go from blue and green to being overtaken by pinks and purples, so 3, 4, and 5 all contributing to palette decisions. i've really been trying to avoid nurturing "rules" and going with what looks nice and feels right, but a list of my reasoning can make it easier to understand how i got to the choices here. i'm typing it now because i will forget my thought process otherwise, lol. some of the panels i left looking "bad" to me to have a reference for what i didn't like, and it'll all blend together without writing down what i was thinking.

here's a small sample...

there are gradients, but objects don't necessarily slide at the same pace. i don't necessarily color the panels in order and there can be a "goal" color that i have to work backwards from as well.

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pacofprunes · 3 months ago

Text

‘gentleman’

k x reader (bad and crazy)

WARNINGS — noncon, use of the word rape

by clicking read more, you consent to reading 18+ content

he’s always been a gentleman. he’s always held the door open for you, always bought you flowers, always grabbed whatever you needed so that you wouldn’t have to get up. he did everything for you at the drop of the hat. so he just wishes while he pressed into you slowly and while you took all his length, that you could just appreciate how kind he’s been and just lay there quiet and pretty.

he’s taking care of you. he’s being gentle. the only thing making it not so kind is the hold he’s got on your wrists so that you can’t get away. but everything comes with a little pain! can’t you see? you have to like him too, there’s just no way you don’t. he’s done everything to help you. he’s been the kindest man in the world to you, he’s treated you like you’re his world. and you are! so can you maybe just let him get a little…compensation?

he knows it’s wrong. he feels bad when he sees your tears rolling down your cheeks, and that’s why he stops looking at you. that’s why he shoves your face into the pillow. that’s why he stops being such a gentleman and starts slamming his hips against you, just chasing his own pleasure. he can’t take it anymore. can you just stop crying? he doesn’t want to see the tears staining the sheets. he doesn’t want to see the tears dripping onto the shirt he left untouched on you. he doesn’t want to see the tears on you and he can’t stand to hear the actual crying. so he just holds your wrists in one hand and your head with the other.

he’s fucking himself out so much that he almost forgets to let you breathe. he wasn’t looking at you after all. he knew he was hurting you and he didn’t want to look up. so he just kept his eyes on your pussy and listened to her sing. when he lets go of your head and you’re finally silent so that he doesn’t shove your face back down he lets out a breath of relief. he doesn’t speak at all to you besides a few “shhs”. he doesn’t want to hear your protests. he doesn’t want to feel your protests. he doesn’t want to see them. so when he finally feels you squeeze around him he smiles and finally lifts his head to meet your eyes, his hair sticking to his forehead and that psychopathic smile on his face. he didn’t look like a gentleman right now. he didn’t look like the k that you had grown to know. none of this felt real and you kept blinking your eyes open just hoping you’d wake up and be at home surrounded by the bunches of flowers and letters he leaves you. but when you felt something warm slipping out of you and leaking down your legs and you felt his grip on you loosen just slightly and you feel his droplets of sweat smacking you in the face, that’s when you knew it was real. and when you felt his lips press against you for the first time, you laying there still in shock not knowing what to do, that’s when you knew it was all real. and when you look towards the corner towards all those once beautiful bouquets of flowers, it’s as if they’re crying too. their once perky stems drooping down and the beautiful pink they once were turns into an almost black shade. you didn’t even know it was possible for the petals to wound up that dark. but then again, you didn’t know it was possible for your best friend to rape you either.

#tw dark content #tw dark fic #tw dark themes #tw noncon #k x reader #bad and crazy x reader #yandere k #yandere k x reader #yandere bad and crazy #yandere bad and crazy x reader #yandere ryu su yeol x reader #yandere ryu su yeol #ryu su yeol x reader #su yeol x reader #yandere su yeol #dark k x reader #dark su yeol x reader #junho x reader #yandere junho x reader

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1d1195 · 7 months ago

Text

Dolcezza Extra II

Read Dolcezza here | ~2.4k words

From me: something sweet and sexy

Warnings: smut, oral, and nothing else except some fluffy bits

Summary: She's had a long day and Harry wants to make it better.

There was a knock on her door immediately followed by Harry’s key unlocking the door. Harry always knocked even though she assured him it wasn’t necessary. “Jus’ want you t’know s’me,” he shrugged when she told him. She glanced up from her desk to see Harry enter. “Hey Principessa,” he smiled tiredly. A double at the restaurant on a Saturday was brutal. But it was especially brutal during the holiday season when people flitted in and out between shopping for gifts and getting holiday dinners done with extended friends and family.

He looked exhausted.

She knew the feeling.

“Hi baby,” she smiled. Even if he was tired, he was still really pretty and lovely. She didn’t know he was going to come up after his shift. Sometimes after a double, he wanted to go home and shower. But today he seemed to be in need of some snuggles.

She was still working. Which made Harry a bit insane. On a Saturday night. She could see it in his eyes as he crossed the room. His exhaustion slowly replaced by worry for how much she was doing. What did she prioritize today that resulted in her being unable to do something she loved and had to catch up on work at a late hour? Did Emma have a math assignment she needed to look over? James and Ethan needed her help with cleaning? Or did her mom ask her for help booking a hotel for the family wedding in the coming month?

Harry hated his double shifts not only because he couldn’t see her, but because he couldn’t take her control (just a hair) so that she wouldn’t end up working at eleven at night on a Saturday. “Bad day?” She asked.

He rolled his eyes. He was tired, but it wasn’t a bad day. Honestly, he had fun at work. He and Niall worked well together so unless it was busy and understaffed, it never felt much like work. “No, kitten. M’annoyed you’re working.”

She dropped her gaze. “I like working,” she reminded him.

“Shouldn’t be working at eleven at night,” he reminded her.

“Well, I was going to read but then I was really into this plan I’ve created. I wanted to make sure I got it done before I lost my train of thought. The data I’m looking at has this really cool model and I was analyzing it, and it looked like it was trending down, but I think it’s actually trending up—” She stopped mid-sentence, her cheeks turning that beautiful shade of pink that Harry fell in love with. “Sorry, you’re tired.”

He smirked. “M’jus’ glad y’didn’t stress yourself doing stuff for your family.”

She looked at her lap. “Do you want me to be honest?” She sighed softly.

He sighed rubbing his hand over his face. “Principessa,” he tutted.

She frowned, fidgeting her fingers while Harry sat beside her. “They’re just so helpless Harry.”

“I know, kitten. But they’re all adults.”

“Barely,” she grumbled.

Harry sighed, pulling her into his lap and kissing the top of her head. He was glad all that had happened in this apartment didn’t deter her from living in it. Harry loved this apartment. Loved that it was right above him while he worked, that she was never too far away from him. “How much time do y’need?” He asked rubbing the back of his head. He didn't want to give her time. But he wanted her to be happy. Work did make her happy and he knew she would feel guilty if she didn't finish it and it would spiral into her worrying more anyway.

“Twenty minutes.”

“Twenty. I’ll take a shower. Then we can go t’bed, yeah?”

She nodded. “Sounds like a plan,” she pressed her hands on either side of his face and brought her mouth to his. “You made garlic bread and didn’t bring me any,” she frowned licking her lower lip.

He snorted. “Niall told me t’leave,” he shook his head. “He’ll bring some up when he’s done cleaning up.”

She smiled delightedly. “I have the best life,” she sighed dreamily, falling back into her swivel chair dramatically. Harry kissed her forehead.

“Don’t work too hard, Principessa.”

Harry enjoyed the warmth of the shower and felt a little more like himself when he returned to her in the living room. Her eyes still focused on her screen; the pinch of her brow puckered in complete concentration. “Um...any chance you’d be okay with like ten more minutes of me working? Emma called me because...well, I don’t want to bug you with the details, but she needed my help and—”

Harry knew whatever it was, she was putty to her younger sister’s request. She was too sweet, his pretty princess. “S’fine, but m’gonna help,” he turned her desk chair, so she spun to face him. She frowned.

“Hey, I was—”

He ignored her protest and lifted her from the chair to the desk lifting underneath her thighs. Harry was glad she was wearing her sleep shorts. The ones with an impractical slit on either side of her hips. A T-shirt that didn’t match swam around her frame. One that she bought because it was easily three sizes too big.

“Harry,” she tried again, steadying herself with hands on his arms as he gently pushed her laptop away from her reach followed by the notebook and pen she used to jot down her notes and to-do list. “I was—”

Harry watched her eyes and slid his hand up the inside of her thigh, through the leg opening, and pressed his fingers right past her underwear, between her folds, and directly onto her clit. Cutting her off with a gasp. “You were what?” He asked softly. Even if she wanted to talk she couldn’t. “M’jus’ going t’take care of you, Principessa. Y’do too much for everyone else. S’only fair.” Her heart rate was flying, and it mirrored the rapid fluttering of her eyelashes as Harry searched gently between the soft sensitive skin between her thighs. “S’that okay?” He asked.

She nodded breathlessly.

“Good,” he sighed. “Love t’take care of you,” he murmured and knelt down so his head was between her thighs. “Y’okay, kitten?”

She nodded again. “Please,” she whispered shyly.

“Aw, y’don’t have t’beg, Principessa. I’ll give y’anything y’want,” he winked, tugged the fabric that was in his way from between her thighs, and then pressed his mouth to her center. She gasped leaning forward, threading her fingers through his hair for balance. His locks were still damp from his shower, and she knew she would mess up the curls and flow from messing with it before it was dried. She hoped she could blame it on bed head.

She supposed in some ways it was bed head.

She moaned quietly as his mouth devoured her. Suckling and licking at her just the way she liked. Harry loved to be between her thighs. It was a regular part of their foreplay, and it never ceased to amaze her how deliriously good it felt. His lips and tongue were sinful. The man was so sweet looking and downright boyish with his cheeky sweet grin. For fucks sake he called her a princess in another language. “Y’can moan louder, baby. Y’know it’s soundproof,” he murmured kissing her thigh as he spoke to her before he wrapped his lips around her clit.

Just like that. Her sweet boyfriend was anything but sweet when he said stuff like that. When he swirled and lapped at her clit the way he was. It was dizzying.

She whined pulling on his hair to press him harder against her core. He moaned against her as she did. The vibration caused her body to react instinctively. Her thighs tightened around his head, and he moaned again. “That’s good, Principessa,” his voice was practically thoughtful. “So good, kitten. S’that feel good?”

She nodded. “Yes, yes, yes,” she whispered the repeated word as if it was all the same syllable.

“You’re so good, Principessa. Jus’ want t’make y’feel good,” he nipped at her inner thighs while he spoke his breath cooling off her wet skin. She was simply soaked between her arousal and Harry’s mouth. “All jealous ‘bout garlic bread," he teased, shaking his head. "Y’taste better than anything we make,” he mumbled and traced his tongue down her slit then back up, running a tantalizing circle around her clit again. Her eyes actually rolled back in her head. She thought that was only in books and for dramatic show in movies. She didn’t know Harry could really make her eyes look for the back of her brain. He sucked hard on her clit making an obscene slurping noise that would have embarrassed her if her place wasn’t soundproofed to near silence. Although she thought the moan she released could have broken the barrier. “Y’make such sexy noises, kitten,” he groaned and continued to torture her with pleasure.

“Harry,” she gasped.

“What Principessa? Y’close? Y’want me t’make y’come?” She nodded shamelessly; wanting it so bad she thought she would cry if he denied her (as if he could ever dream of denying her anything). “M’jus’ going t’touch—”

She cried out as he pressed his finger into her. His lips wrapped around her clit while his tongue continued circling around the sensitive nub. He rubbed his finger against her walls, once more feeling around expertly, the way she liked that made her toes curl.

The smug son of a bitch smiled against her as she clenched lightly around him. “That’s it, Principessa. Want you t’come all over me,” he moved his finger in and out at a faster pace timing it with his licks so that she was nearly worried she was going to pass out from pleasure.

“Oh fuck, yes,” she whimpered, and Harry groaned right against her.

“Keep going, baby,” he hummed fingering her and licking her like it was the only thing he planned on doing. “There it is, good kitten,” he praised which only made her melt into a puddle.

Her orgasm seemed to last way longer than she thought possible. Her thighs kept squeezing around him after it officially stopped. Like she was trying to hold onto the final waves of pleasure. “Do y’want another?” He inquired thoughtfully once more.

Another orgasm, especially of that caliber, would definitely make her pass out.

“No thank you,” she whispered.

He chuckled and kissed the inside of her thigh. He pulled her clothing back into the correct position and he sat in her office chair before he pulled her into his lap. She could feel how hard he was through the shorts he was wearing as she fell into his hold. He kissed her neck, wrapping one arm securely around her waist. The other hand found her inner thigh, slightly sticky with sweat, arousal, and Harry’s saliva. It was hot and messy, but Harry didn’t seem to care. Probably because he was responsible for the mess. Instinctively, she squeezed her thighs again, against his hand. “Y’sure, Principessa? M’happy t’make y’come again,” he offered kissing her cheek. “Y’seem a little turned on still?”

“Just... it felt really good. It’s,” she blushed and smiled at him shyly. “It’s lasting a while,” she mumbled and tucked her face into his neck.

His quiet laugh shook through his chest and her in his embrace. “You’re so pretty,” he murmured. “Especially when y’come.” She shook her head against him, but her thighs betrayed her again. “Let’s go t’bed, Principessa.”

She perked up a bit. Her eyebrows knitting together to meet in the middle of her eyes. “I think it’s your turn—”

“Oh no,” he shook his head. “Some other time. That was purely for you,” he stood, holding her legs around his waist. She blushed, giggled softly.

“Harry, you had such a long day. It’s hardly fair.”

“Not 'bout being fair. Plus going down on you s’by far one of m’favorite things t’do," he shrugged one shoulder.

Her cheeks still felt warm. “You’re pretty good at it,” she nodded in agreement.

Harry chuckled. “Cute.”

He walked to her bedroom, setting her on the bed. “I really needed to finish a few things—”

“It can wait ‘till the morning.”

She sighed. He was right. Harry was good at making sure she was doing more for herself. Although that usually entailed him doing stuff for her. Which didn’t seem like a good trade. Harry opened her main door briefly. He returned to the bedroom holding out the garlic bread immediately to her lips. With his free hand he cupped it below her jaw to catch any crumbs that didn't make it into her mouth.

“I really do have the best life,” she sighed, crunching on the bread. He smirked.

“Do y'want more?”

She shook her head. “I love you,” she sighed dreamily.

He laughed and kissed the top of her head. “I love you.”

Harry put the garlic bread in her kitchen, turned off all the lights, and came back to her bedroom. “Let me brush my teeth. Garlic isn’t pretty.”

“It doesn’t bother me,” he assured her, cupped her face and kissed her as passionately as he could. Like it was their first kiss. Or the one they shared the first time they had sex. The kind of kiss she imagined would greet them on their wedding day, whenever that would be. He pulled away briefly, pecked her more softly, then kissed her forehead. “Delicious,” he promised, licking his lips cutely.

Harry went to the other side of the bed and pulled her to his body as soon as he was settled. His arms wrapped tightly around her, his lips on the back of her head, kissing her hair. “Are you sure you don’t want me to do something for you?”

“M’always turned on by you, Principessa. Don’t worry ‘bout it. Jus’ taking care of you.”

“But you had a long day.”

He shrugged. “M’feeling fine. Don’t worry ‘bout me, kitten. I promise.”

“I worry about—”

“I know,” he chuckled, squeezing her closer somehow. His body wrapped around hers like vine. “Go t’sleep, Principessa. Y’can go back t’being an angel tomorrow and taking care of everyone under the sun,” he sighed.

She shook with silent laughter. “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me, kitten. I get jus’ as much pleasure out of that as you.”

“That can’t possibly be true.”

“If y’let me do it again, I’d definitely come,” he shrugged one shoulder and he kissed the back of her head then tucked his face into the crook of her neck. “I love you,” he reminded her.

“I love you,” she sighed.

“Sleep tight, Principessa.”

For a few moments there was no noise except their quiet breathing. “Harry?”

“Hmm?” She squirmed awkwardly. “Do you want another orgasm, now?” She shook her head. “More garlic bread?” A swift nod. He chuckled untangling himself from her. “One minute, m’love.”

“God, I am the luckiest girl in the world.”

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