#it's been a hell of a fucking day and it's not even noon but the fact that i already hit my daily limit of serotonin at 4 am

[dingo-ate-my-hot-lettuce-crazy]

Rearview - Chapter 2 - Collision Course

Summary: A slight accident on the way back from class might lead to a few interesting conversations with Cas' friend, Dean, from the party. Jo confides in you about her own perception of her relationship evolutions, leaving you to question your morals.

Characters: Dean, Jo, others mentioned

Word Count: 5K

Warnings: cursing, suicidal ideation, talk of sex, improper view of relationships, hatred of Shakespeare, mentions of panic attack-like symptoms, abuse

Author's Note: the drama is ensuing !!! leave comments if you like it or if you hate it LOL

Song: Save Yourself by Milo Greene 

Series Masterlist - Chapter 3

As an English teacher-to-be, you certainly despise Shakespeare. While booking it out of the lecture, down the stairs, and into the mid-noon sun, you shake your head to yourself, wondering how the hell you’ll be able to teach it to kids who are in the same boat as you. It wasn’t that you didn’t understand the Shakespearean dialect (even though you found it to be rather cerebrally demanding), it was that you often wonder why you have to understand it. I mean, you’re reading fabricated old English that you will have to comprehend and translate into real, modern English, with obsessive, archaic vocabulary and hyperbolically plagued dialogue.

And in that moment, you curse yourself. Only Shakespeare could make you use this kind of strong, articulated diction. Damn yond Shakespeare.

Your classes this year are all starting off fairly in-depth. Granted, you finished all of your prerequisites, so now all that was left for these last few semesters were the "big girl" stuff and internships. Shakespearean Literature, Classroom Management, and Advanced Composition, all while you begin to prepare to go to an actual classroom and finally dip your feet into the oceans of high school education. And honestly, even with all these classes and your work schedule on top of that, you couldn't complain.

You're doing ten times better than you were at this time last year. Now, you still have your good and bad days, but it's an improvement from last year. Hell, you could tack on another two classes to your schedule and still have better mental stability than you did last year.

It's amazing what a little avoidance of your trauma distraction could do. 

Although, it couldn't do everything. Separating yourself from the problem was proving to be the easy part, and that had been a stressful journey for yourself and others. It's the constant reminders and echoes of the past that seem to jump out on you on even your greatest days. The nightmares won't even go away completely. You assume it's this lingering fear that is permanently glued to the back burner, but your brain can't ever turn it off. And it's not like you rock back and forth in the corner with wild eyes that refuse to close. You just didn’t know how to feel safe again. Time heals, you convince yourself with pathetic naiveté. You’ll meditate, read a self-help book, and things will start to miraculously look up, right?

As. Fucking. If.

Even right now, as you walk the familiar route from your class to the populated coffee shop a few blocks down, there is an impossibly relentless anxiety in your stomach. The most frustrating part is that you don’t know why it's still there. You’ve relocated, and you have two safety-conscious girl roommates and an overprotective anthropology major three blocks away from your apartment- who insists on texting him when you make it to class or your place when you're by yourself. You’ve surrounded yourself in a completely new environment, void of any prior attachments of the past, aside from being in the same city. So why does it still feel like Nick is everywhere? Sure, he lives in the vicinity of the metropolitan area, but it’s miles away. All you can do is repeat the mantra, shoving your panic down beneath the surface:

You’re safe.

You’re safe someone’swatchingyou.

Out of instinctual precaution, you glance behind you.

You’re sa-

“Oh- shit!” 

You curse as you collide with someone coming from your immediate right, and you turn your head back and stand face-to-leather jacket with the victim of your paranoia. “Christ, I’m so sorry-”

“Woah, hey, don’t sweat it.” A familiar voice assures, and you’ll be damned, that it so happens to be Dean. He steps back as he meets your eyes and smiles warmly upon the recognition of your face. “Oh, hey…” He says your name almost instantly like he’s been hopeful to say it again.

You pinch your eyes shut slightly out of embarrassment and shake your head, “Shit, I’m sorry, Dean- I was so not paying attention-”

“No, no, I wasn’t either, it was my fault, too.”

You huff an embarrassed laugh. “Wow, our insurance companies would hate to see us coming.”

“Good thing I’ve got collision coverage.” He snorts, a smirk remains.

“Your rate must be insane.”

Dean scoffs, “Oh, please. I’m practically uninsurable at this point. High-risk driver, multiple prior accidents on the record…”

“Off the record?”

“You don’t even want to know.”

“That’s okay, I'm pretty sure my 'check engine lights' have been on for years..”

“You should have that checked out.”

“I should.” You finally relent (after running out of other ways to make this situation applicable to people and car crashes).

Dean raises his lips in a lop-sided grin cleverly, “You know, I know a good mechanic.”

You close your eyelids, scoffing to yourself as you remember his major. “Right. I bet you do... Maybe I oughta make an appointment sometime.” 

"First-time customers are on the house." His gleam compliments his convictive demeanor.

Flirtatious. You ponder if this was a 'Dean' thing or a 'Dean with you' thing. Although, you're sure he's had plenty of practice before. Those enticing, emerald green eyes that just hook onto your soul, paired with his nonchalance, "sweetheart" this and his masculine charm that. It would be a damned waste if he hadn’t used his own allure. You’re pretty sure he could get anyone he wanted with the wink of an eye. That begs the question, what the hell was he doing with you?

"I'll keep that in mind..." Your gazes linger, before you add, “Well- uh, I don’t wanna make you late for class.”

Dean swings his car keys in his fingers absentmindedly, “Actually, my class ended at 1:45. I'm not holding you up, am I?”

You hesitate, unsure of how you should answer. On one hand, you could say, "Yeah, I got class in a few-" Four hours from now, "But I'll see you 'round!" You can pretend that you don't want to get to know him and figure out his quirks and his interests. You can pretend that you wouldn't find it fun to imagine what he's like romantically, if he's physically affectionate, or maybe he tells you that you look beautiful when you wake up every morning- of course after you find yourself engulfed in his arms, peppered with gentle, airy kisses on your temple. Ain't it fun to not pretend any of that.

But you know that it doesn't exist. You know it doesn't happen.

He's fucking Jo. He probably just wants another notch on his belt. Another body to the count. Same song, different dance. He'll flirt, and you'll tease, which leads to him dreaming up your futures only to be together for one night, and he's gone after he's chased his high.

But then you think to yourself, Cas would never introduce me to someone of that nature, he's well aware of my past and my stances on those particular men, or boys, more so.

Which made option two a whole lot easier. 

"No, I just got out of my class. Was headed to get gas," You point to Garth's- Coffee and Tea that was across the street and a congested traffic light or two away.

Dean's body follows your direction and he glances back at you with the corner of his mouth lifted with a bit of skepticism. "You know, I hear caffeine after 2PM can disrupt your sleep by three hours a night." 

Funny, you're lucky to get three hours of sleep, period.

"Please, does anyone actually sleep anymore after freshman year?" You challenge him.

His eyes look up, searching in his head for an answer, maybe, until he purses his lips, "Fair point." He draws his teeth onto his bottom lip, his face morphing into a questioning gaze, with a dash of concern, as he watches closely for your reaction, "You want somebody to walk with?"

Score.

"That'd be great, who did you have in mind?"

Shaking his head with a playfully dismissive smirk, he avoids your amused stare for a moment, "You know, you're going into the wrong field here. You're quite the regular comedian."

You gesture with a slight flick of your head for Dean to follow you, now heading in the direction of the coffee shop. "I'd probably make more money."

Dean makes his way to your side, keeping by the curb, "Ain't that sad."

He swallows, he lets a brief quiet fall between you two before he licks his lips and mentions, "I'm glad I got to run into you, uh... you took off rather quickly at the party." He contorts his face into a mild concern. "I didn’t know if I had said something…"

You hit yourself internally, forgetting about your little Irish goodbye, not to mention the last time you spoke that night was when the conversation revolved around his “relationship” with Jo. When things got awkward. Way to go on that one. "No, no, I just- uh...I was starting to feel a little sick off that punch, so I just went home."

He throws his hands up, palms open, in a "no shame" motion. “Well, hey- a valid reason to disappear." 

"I certainly thought so."

“Though certainly unfortunate. You left without a way for me to find you again.” He ventures, faking offense.

You couldn’t hold back the confusion that ran through you at his numerous flirts, “Not to be rude or anything, but…don’t you and Jo kind of have a thing together?”

Dean rolls his eyes at the definitive term you give for the situation. It looks like he hardly liked it to be recognized at all. “It’s hardly a ‘thing’. It’s not serious.”

That answer never fills you with confidence, from any guy. What exactly isn’t serious? How he feels when he’s inside her? The look he gives her when she’s just quenched his sexual thirst? What’s not serious? The shared noncommittal rush of pleasure when she does the thing he goes crazy for- that brings him back to her? The no-strings intimacy mystique, leaving them both driving each other crazy for more, more, more? 

Or did he mean it…was it really mindless, boring, right-place-right-time sex?

You didn’t understand it to begin with. You didn’t care to engage in that kind of sex, anyway. Not that you have standards that are above it, but you just think it dims the meaning of physical connection, which you did value. Not to mention, you had all the mindless sex when you were with Nick. You’re pretty sure you checked out after doing it enough, once it became more of a condition, than an act of love.

“But what does that mean to you?”

“It’s really just friends with benefits. And we hardly really do anything outside of…the benefits. We’re just each other’s entertainment sometimes, that’s all.”

“Oh, that’s all.” You say, almost as if you don’t want to believe that it’s true.

He holds his hands out in defense. “Why do you say it like that?”

“Listen, I’m not judging. Really, truly, I’m not.” You preface sincerely before continuing, “But I’m not trying to get in between that.”

“Jo and I aren’t dating.”

“I know you know what guy-code is,” You give him a pointed look, “Girls have a similar code.”

“So what, I can’t be interested in you?” He looks down at you with a grin, but his eyes are tinged with disappointed confusion.

You scoff, “Not while you and Jo are…doing whatever it is you guys still do.”

“And if we weren’t…”

You pause, stumbling in your thoughts. “I guess I wouldn’t be disinterested.”

“So there is an interest of sorts…?” His grin gets wider.

You run a hand through your hair, struggling to come up with an answer that wasn't quite alluding to an eventual dismantling of his and Jo’s “hardly thing”. 

“It’s more complicated than that. I won’t make promises, but I’ll say I’m not disinterested.”

“‘Not disinterested’.” He repeats, satisfied. “A niche answer.”

“I think it’s necessary for this circumstance.” You shrug, becoming more certain of your reply.

Once you both reach the coffee shop, light conversation bounces between the two of you. Nothing too deep, mostly just the classes you came from and the professors you have this year. You notice his eye contact as he talks to you, how his attention is solely on you, and you feel like you're the only person in the world. It’s honestly distracting- you need a map when you look into his eyes. You have to focus ten times harder to finish a thought around him. You find yourself stuttering if he smiles while you talk.

Coffees are ordered and you give him a sly, contained smile at his Americano order, and he responds with a brag at himself,“What- never seen a guy with taste before?” You figure he might be trying to impress you, rather than order a plain, black coffee as most guys did. You turn your lips into an upside-down smile and tease him with a stereotype, which makes his face fall with a reactive scowl. But, you belly laugh at his reaction, and you swear that you can see him faintly watch with suppressed adoration, as you cover your mouth with a hand to conceal the volume of the giggle. He can’t even pretend to be annoyed with that laugh. 

Conversations mold into new topics. You learn a little bit about his brother, Sammy, who just recently got into Stanford University for Pre-Law. You take note of the sad smile he has when you comment on how proud his parents must be. He asks about your home life before college, recalling your parents’ divorce when you were in high school. It wasn’t a tough subject for you, all you really tell him is that it was an adjustment. Your parents did the best they could, though. That doesn’t mean your dad was Danny Tanner, or that your mom was Carol Brady…but you can recognize that your life definitely could’ve been worse. Especially after witnessing the effects of negligent parents, Nick’s parents. Mom left, and Dad was hands-off. 

Yeah, you turned out alright for the most part.  

“So with a mechanic dad, and you being an Automotive Engineer major, you have to have a favorite car then.” You prompt as Dean holds the door open for you, as the both of you exit Garth’s. 

“Oh, of course.” He articulates with eyes that say “Obviously!”

“So, what is it?” You implore impatiently.

He chuckles with a knowing grin, “The one I have now.”

Grumbling, toyful resignation in your tone, “I’m not gonna ask a third time.”

“1967 Chevy Impala.”

You halt, not stepping any farther as you narrow your eyes in disbelief, “Yeah, right. You have an old, classic muscle car.”

“I do,” Dean verifies with an assured smirk.

For a stunned couple of seconds, you read him to see if he was shitting you, but you believe him. “Well, you know what, mark me impressed then. That’s pre-tty fucking awesome.”

He sticks a hand in his pocket with the other hand holding his coffee out to point down the street, “I’m parked pretty close to the garage down the street. I can drive you home if you want to see her-”

“No-” You blurt out sharply, surprising yourself and Dean. The blood leaves your face for a second, reeling you into a confined panic.

You haven’t let anyone drive you in months. Not since the accident, not since Nick-

Damn it. This had been one of the few impressions Nick left that actually manifested into a foreseeable problem. It’s why you walked everywhere. From the apartment to class, to the store, to Garth’s, to everywhere. Just the thought of being in another car with someone driving you made your heart race. Trapped in a confined space, in the hands of someone else who had the power of your life in their hands, in more ways than one. You refused kindly anytime Cas offered to drive you, even to Charlie. Although, Cas had practically forced you that night to let him drive you, for the sake of your own safety and escape, even then you were griefed with fear and had nearly hyperventilated in the car. You felt guilty, allowing this stupid, barely rational fear to dictate your life, but they accepted your refusal with just a concerned afterthought. And worse, now Dean had no clue why you just denied him of showing you his pride and joy.

Blinking your eyes back into the present, you apologetically shake your head at his fallen expression, “Sorry- I don’t really do well… with people driving me. Anyone…it’s a- thing…” You lamely excuse yourself. 

“Okay… no worries. Uh, maybe I can still show her to you one day.” Dean leniently suggests, his face still pinched with perplexion and a hint of worry.

“For sure,” You assure with a pleading tone, “But, don’t let me hold you up from getting back. I have to walk to my apartment in the other direction, so…” The pleading trails off into one of a shamed acceptance.

“You’re not holding me up,” He says your name with a soothed promise, “I’ll walk with you. If you’ll let me, of course.”

“Dean, you definitely don’t have to-”

“I want to,” He lifts his head, asserting a masculine, but gentle attestment.

You relentingly exhale, face gleaming with a grateful glow, “Well then. Who am I to stop you from getting the things you want?”

He says something like “Damn right,” before matching your pace down another street as you make your way to your apartment complex.

“So, am I allowed to ask? Or is it off limits?” Dean raises a cautious eyebrow.

Staring straight ahead, you bite your lip, “Oh, the uh- the car thing?”

He treads carefully. “Yeah, the car thing.”

You rub your unoccupied hand at your neck, tensing your shoulders slightly, but ultimately offering, “I mean, it’s not interesting, but it’s not…off limits.” 

Dean doesn’t look quite convinced, but his curiosity gets the better of him, and he queries, “It doesn’t have to be interesting…just wondering.”

Blowing an exaggerated breath of air, you shake your head, “I mean, I was involved in an accident a couple months ago. Someone was driving my car…totaled it. So, I don’t have a car, but I’m definitely not ready to drop that kind of cash, yet.”

You can’t see him while you kick your feet in front of you, avoiding his gaze purposefully, but his jaw is clenched as you tell him. “Someone else totaled your car? That’s all kind of fucked-up. Did they at least give you reparations for it?”

You take a bit too long to answer, and Dean’s eyes snap open wider after he blinks, “You’re kidding.”

“It’s a long, long story,” You justify, not giving him much more of an explanation, “But, I don’t mind walking. I like it, actually.”

Dean shakes his head in anger, although not directed at you. He was livid for you, “It doesn’t matter- that was your car. The words I would have…” He stops himself, attempting to control his reaction.

“Honestly, I’m just lucky to be alive.” Some days you find that statement debatable. 

“That’s about the only good that came out of that situation.” He remarks protectively.

“That and the fact that I have killer calves now.”

He snorts at that, transitioning the mood slightly with your joke, “I won’t argue that.” He jerks his head back, getting an angle of your legs, and smirks in agreement. He speaks up again, “I definitely would never push you to get into a car again, but on your own accord, if you ever wanted to take a ride- I’d be honored to let it be in Baby.”

You squish your brows together, “In…Baby?”

Dean smiles proudly, “That’s her name.”

“I bet she can carry one hell of a watermelon.” 

He replies with a surefire tone, “Well, no one puts her in a corner.” 

Fortunately, nothing along the rest of the Nick-adjacent topics arise, which leads to undeniably smooth, easy conversing. And you hate to admit it, but you can see yourself liking him. Hell, who are you kidding, you do like him. But, God, you did not want to wrap him into your shit. Why take a perfectly great guy and taint him with your devastatingly scarred emotional tendencies? Did that mean you were leading him on? No, not yet. It was just a casual walk back to your apartment. You told him you weren’t exactly at that “interested” level yet. And he understood. He was doing this for you out of the kindness of his heart (?).

The walk back concludes at the outside of the lobby, where you linger and let the conversation die off slowly. He acknowledges that the both of you arrived at your residence, and he looks up at the building, “I take it we’re stopping because this is your apartment, and not so that you can look deeply into my eyes.”

“Who said that?” You quirk your head. Well, fuck. That was a flirt. Now you would be leading him on if you didn’t expect something more from this.

“I just used my context clues.” 

“How impressive. That’s an A+ for you, mister.” You tease, activating your “teacher voice”.

“That’d be the first one in a while,” Dean concedes, laughing a bit.

You give him a slight chuckle back, looking down at your feet, then back to him. “I appreciate the walk back.”

“Don’t mention it. Maybe I’ll start walking more often.” He muses, sticking his hands in his pockets.

You roll your eyes, “You claim to have this beautiful, antique muscle car and you’re going to start walking more?”

He lifts his shoulders for a moment, leaning forward a bit to tell you, “I’ve got some motivation.”

You could not believe his charm. “You don’t even know when I’m walking back from class or wherever.”

“Well then, this would be a pretty good time to ask for your number. So maybe I can find out.” And it sounds like he almost purrs.

You inhale, not looking directly at him, biting your lip in contemplation. “I don’t know if that’s right.”

“We’re not dating,” He restates, “Like you said, she apparently has guys crawlin’ in and out of there.”

Damnit. Is it right to have his number? I mean, he was at least a friend by now. Friends have friends’ numbers.

“If you insist-”

“I’m afraid I must.” He feigns a look of dismay, then smoothly slips his phone from his pocket to hand to you.

You try to contain the smile that peeks out as you insert your number, creating a contact for yourself on his phone, and then handing it back to him. “Happy?”

“I am,” he flashes his teeth with an undoubting expression. “Let me know when you leave class tomorrow if you have it.”

“I just might,” You back into the lobby entrance, my gaze softening some, “Bye, Dean.”

He maintains his smile as he gives you a farewell wave, keeps his eyes on you as you walk through the main floor to the elevator, and waits to take off to his car until he can no longer see you. 

When you amble back into the apartment, the door clicks softly behind you. You lean against it, a rom-com moment playing out by the entrance, where your mind whirls over the afternoon that played out just before you came in. A stupid grin plays out on your face. It was nice to be treated that way again. It's been years since a proper exchange of witty dialogue, eventually leading to the mushy details of the day where you part ways with the intent of seeing each other again. The fantasy of that lasting repeats in your head as you hold onto the feeling.

And the fantasy is quickly interrupted as you're greeted by Jo, currently wiping the counter in the kitchen ahead of you. She glances up and nods her head to you, “Hey.”

You clear your throat, immediately kicking yourself off of the door to head to your shared bedroom, “Hey, Jo. Charlie at D&D still?” You check, an ebb of guilt slightly boiling in your stomach.

“Yeah, she said around 6:30 she’d be back. Speaking of,” She put the cleaning spray she had out back under the sink, moving to press her palms against the counter, almost accusingly. “You’re home a little later than usual, I thought class ends at 2:00 for you?” She eyes you curiously, which is out of the norm for her. Most of the time, you didn’t think she paid attention when you returned from classes.

“Oh, it did, but I ran into a friend. We ended up shootin’ the shit for a little while.”

“Oh...cool.” She bites her cheek, an awkward silence tethers you back from your previous high, before she looks to you with a pinched expression. “Can I talk to you about something?” 

Jo's never initiated much conversation between the two of you alone. “Yeah…what’s going on?”

Jo has this annoyed smile plastered on her face as she brings up the subject. She's almost oblivious as she asks, “It's weird, but... you obviously liked Nick at the beginning of your relationship, right?”

You flinch slightly, eyebrows perking up, “Oh, well- Yeah…I mean, it’s hard to say so now after everything, but there was a draw to him in the beginning.”

“What did…what did that feel like to you?” 

“Oh, man. It’s torturous... I thought about him a lot, and I made every excuse to drive by his apartment complex before I lived with him. I used to go to the restaurant he works at, even though he wasn’t a server, and I knew I wouldn’t see him in the kitchen. I was real stupid for him.” 

It's true. You really used to be stupid for him. You still feel stupid somehow, although in a different sense. While you weren't lying to Jo, you had a hard time recalling why you were as crazed for him as you told her. You remember everything you did before officially being in a relationship, but it's like every remotely positive feeling from that relationship had been violently dissipated. There were good times, but it's almost painful to just briefly be aware that there were times when that sick fuck got a smile out of you. Just acknowledging that he was anything but a dog felt stupid. God, I was stupid.

“Sounds it.” Jo admires.

You huff out a regretful breath. “It was. Emphasis on ‘was’.”

“Right...”

“Why do you ask?”

Jo sighs, and now you're in for it. “I started…I don’t know. I started getting these weird feelings at the party last week. Butterflies, maybe. I don’t know, it honestly has been so long since I really started to like a guy, I guess.” She leans her body onto her forearms that rest on the granite countertop.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah," Her eyes move to yours, almost looking for your judgment, "I know it’s no secret that I’ve bounced between a lot of guys, but, I just figure why go through all the trouble of figuring out who wants a girlfriend or who just wants to get into my pants when I can just initiate it first?”

You tilt your head, lifting a shoulder in a half-shrug, “Sometimes you have to weed out all the bad ones to find a good one. Getting hurt like that, unfortunately, it’s inevitable. Hell, it’s happened to me a few times.”

“But it doesn’t have to be like that. You can hook up first and then be more than a booty call if the sex is good. I mean, there’s no order to these kinds of things.” Jo is sure of herself.

Alarm bells go off in your head at her dating philosophy, if you could even call it that. Of course, if a relationship had naturally progressed from hookups to actual dates, that’d be a different story. A weird, modern story, but still viable. But Jo makes it sound like it was a typical option for finding a partner… which seems a little twisted, shallow almost. You don’t exactly know how to tell her otherwise or feel that you should, so you just nod along with her statement, staying reserved.

Jo ignores the somewhat forced silence you take and continues determinedly, “Look, somewhere along the lines, I just realized that I’m just bored of it. There’s no chase… or back and forth. Guys hardly make any effort when they already know they're gettin' it. I get free dinners and an orgasm out of some of them, which is great and all, but I want something more. Maybe I have to do some chasing, then backing away, then chasing until it forms...it keeps things interesting.”

“Forms...like an actual relationship?”

“Something along those lines," Jo nods half-heartedly, seemingly keeping her hopes at a distance. 

It's hard to encourage the hopes of a falsified relationship, but in all honesty, you're not close enough with her to try and set her straight. You can't slap her silly and say, "That's not love, that's boredom!" She'll have to learn it for herself, and that poor bastard is going to have to see her expectations from miles away in order to get a head start back to where he came from.

“Try it out. I mean, you only live once, and college is the right time to try out all this stuff.” You offer basic advice, afraid true advice would get twisted somehow into further bullshit. "I mean, if a guy has you all tingly inside, then definitely worth the shot. You said you met at the party?"

Jo shakes her head, "No, actually. We've already hooked up a couple of times, but we talked at the party some, and that'skind of when I started to think about things differently."

"Oh...who is he?" A nasty feeling arises in your gut.

"Dean Winchester."

Fuck. It was your poor bastard.

A/N: I'm impressed you made it to here! I almost didn't

[mannequinreligi0n]

Mating Season

get bred, loser

pairing: dante x reader (female anatomy, gn pronouns)

wc: 2.2k

warnings: NSFW - breeding kink, monster-fucking, blood/blood play

author’s note: i’ve been meaning to write this for so long but unfortunately i am a depressed adult with a full time job, and finding time/energy to write is difficult :’) sorry if this isn’t up to standards or there’re mistakes. enjoy, smooches.

links: ao3

Twelve missed calls, six voicemails, and twenty-three texts from Dante is what you’re greeted with upon waking up - and it’s barely noon. Scrolling through the texts, you’re met with the ramblings of a madman, pleading for you to come over, to see him, to cancel your plans for the day. With a quick shower and change of clothes, you oblige in his wanton demands and head over to the loft.

You only manage a single knock before the door swings open and Dante is dragging you inside by the sleeve of your sweater.

“Dante! The hell has gotten into-“

”No time. Don’t ask.”

He pulls you straight into his bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him. Throwing you over his shoulder, he launches you onto the bed with a ‘thump’, your smaller form springing on the mattress. Dante reels over you, snatching your coat off and ducking his head into the curve of your neck with a deep inhale, nose sniffing your skin like a damn bloodhound.

”You showered,” he mopes, teeth pulling at the fragile skin of your throat. You squirm under the weight of him, hands pushing at his chest to levitate some of the burden.

”Yeah, so what?’

“You weren’t supposed to - I said not to. Did you even read my texts?”

”Dante, you’re being ridiculous. Do you even hear yourself?” You lift your head up to look at him, pushing him off of you. Dante makes a sad whine, a demeaning sound coming from the devil hunter. His messy locks flop down in front of his face and he lets out a long sigh, hands pawing at the fabric of your pants.

”I’m sorry, babe. God, you don’t have any idea how hard this has been without you,” he mumbles sheepishly, eyes fixated on the faint red mark he left on your neck. His hands trembled against your legs, clearly trying to hold himself back in order to have a coherent conversation with you. “I thought I could handle this alone, but I keep thinking about last week…how warm you felt, like that pretty little hole was made just for me,” he interrupts himself with a groan, hunching over as if in pain. You reach a hand up and push back the already sweaty strands to see his face, feeling his fevered skin brush your fingertips.

”Why didn’t you call me over sooner? You know I would’ve came,” you murmur, observing his needy state with a bit of concern.

”Didn’t wanna be a bother. I thought I could handle it on my own, y’know? I always have, but with you in the picture now-“ He lurches toward your hand on him, nuzzling into it with a choked breath. “Please…please, just-….just let me-“

You pet his cheek as you think over the proposition, mouth pursed. You finally agree with a small nod, pulling your hand away.

“Is it safe?”

”I won’t hurt you. I would never,” Dante reaches for your wrists, thumbs rubbing at the pulse points. He stares at you with his best ‘puppy-dog’ look, a pout on his lips. “I’ll be good, I promise. God, please, just let me fuck you - you got a man begging here.”

You chuckle and shake your head, pulling him back to you with a mumbled ‘c’mere’. Dante wastes no time latching himself back onto you, pulling your shirt off and biting down on your shoulder with a chesty groan. His hands work at your pants as he marks up your skin, the bites hard but nothing compared to the ones you’ll receive soon enough from his fangs. Clothes gone, you writhe under him and he sits up and sheds his own clothes, sparks of red already flitting off of his skin. Blue eyes morph red and he squeezes your thigh reassuringly, throwing you a shaky smile.

”You remember the safe-word, sweetheart?”

”Ciabatta.”

“Right.”

With a quick peck to your forehead, Dante rolls out his shoulders, cracking a few joints in his spine and neck. Warm, amber light coats his bedroom and Dante’s body morphs into his devil trigger, his nine-foot form casting a daunting shadow over your bare skin. Your breathing quickens at the sight - you’ve seen his DT before, but never like this, never between your legs and teeth glistening in your direction. Sensing your fear, Dante runs a knuckle over your cheek, mindful of his claws. A low, rustling rumble echoes from his vocal chords, bending down to meet his ghastly face to yours.

”It’s still me…” he breathes out, voice altered but still holding his signature lilt. Wings cocoon your body, cradling your form as he lifts you up to dangle in front of his chest. The heat of the flames rippling over his scales threaten to scorch your delicate flesh, the heat making your sweat glands break open and perspire. Dante’s mouth opens and an orange tongue lined with bumps and grooves laps a line across your own chest, taking in the decadent taste of you. Despite your trepidations, you can’t hold in the moan that drops from your mouth, eyes fluttering closed. Transparent, tangerine saliva drips down your abdomen as his tongue roams around, stimulating nerves from your throat to your navel, bumps dragging across smooth skin.

“My mate…Mine, mine,” Dante growls out, clawed fingers pinching at your thighs as he pushes your knees to your chest, wings supporting your weight from behind and below.

”Dante, c-careful, Jesus,” you whimper out, laser-focused on his claws dangerously close to shredding your skin open. All you get in response is another resonant growl, steam pillowing off his breath. Before you can warn him again, the sandpaper tongue swipes at your hole, making you shudder and go limp against his wings, forgetting your train of thought. One thing about Dante was that on the surface, he came off as reckless, impulsive - but it couldn’t be further from the truth. He had backup plans for his backup plans, and thought out every little thing. As much as your body was sounding off alarms to scramble away from the devil, he was taking the time necessary to warm you up before indulging himself - a preliminary ‘thank you’ for being a willing victim. You look up at Dante’s face, or what used to be his face, and lock eyes with the fiery orbs glaring down at you. It was hard to tell, but you could swear that little shit was smiling down at you, knowing you’ve put two and two together. A bass of laughter shakes his form, leaning forward to bump his forehead to yours as carefully as possible.

”Told you. No harm.”

You let out a shaky breath at his smartass remark, but it’s futile to steady your breathing. Dante’s tongue pushes into your hole, pointed and flexed as it slides between your inner walls. The feeling is indescribable, and for lack of a better word: devilish. Your juices coat the length of his tongue as it assaults you repeatedly, twisting in and out while talons keep you folded upright against your squirming. Heat floods your core as your release builds upon itself, gasps and symphonic moans invading the quiet room.

Dante can’t hold his instincts back when the taste and smell of your essence is practically reducing every cell in his body into a lust-driven beast. Ejecting his tongue, his wings cradle you down to the bed, knees kissing your ears in a mating press. Your thighs quake against his scaled palms, missing the fullness of his tongue. You open your mouth to ask what he’s doing, but the words jumble into a whine of pain as his head propels to take a bite at your shoulder. Fangs puncture skin and the devil seems to purr as the crimson nectar dribbles from the bite and into his mouth. The receptors in his brain are screaming at him to bite down again and again and again til you’re a battered, bloody mess - every centimeter of flesh peeled back and consumed in the most carnal way.

Thankfully, the human conscious in him refrains and with another nibble to your neck, he withdraws and centers himself with the pulsating warmth beckoning him in. He doesn’t need to check how wet you are - he can smell it, the pheromones rippling off your sex in waves that rivaled a tsunami. A bulbed shaft stretches into your slick and your head shoots up with a scratchy yelp, pain radiating to your hips. A huff of steam leaves the devil’s nostrils, halting to save you more pain despite his needs. Dante watches your fingers go white against the bedsheets, hanging on for dear life, and you can see his wings wilt at the realization he’s letting his devil instincts get the best of him. A clawed hand grips both of small ankles to hold you in place, the other letting go to scoop up one of your hands. Scales run over the skin gingerly, your fingers curling around his thumb for security.

“Deep breaths, baby. Big, deep breaths for me,” he hums out, the mechanic whirring of his vocal chords carrying his voice past your panicked thoughts. You obey, chest rising and falling as your blurred eyes trace the flame spitting from the top of his head. Dante can feel your walls unclench around him and he takes it as a sign to keep going. It’s a slow and painful process, but inch after inch, he manages to squeeze about half of himself in before hitting your cervix.

‘Damn human anatomy,’ Dante curses internally, but makes peace with the complication, thankful enough that you're taking it like a champ. After a moment of stillness, ensuring you’re okay, he starts to move. Armored hips lurch in and out of your tight hole, hushed growls filling your ears. All you can do is lay there, pliant and accepting. Your hold on his finger tightens as your body rocks around with the thrust of his unnatural cock, his name the only coherent word you can manage while he jabs at your g-spot continuously. Dante’s teeth find their way back to your flesh, leaving bloody constellations along your legs. So consumed by the fullness of his girth, you don’t notice the ruby fluid dripping down your limbs from the bites, barely registering his tongue greedily licking you clean. Bursts of white spot your vision, core muscles tightening as your orgasm tears through you and a scream of pleasure brings tears to your eyes.

“Mine…Mine to fuck, mine to…to take…gonna look so good when you’re full of my cum…” Dante snarls against your skin, pounding his cock into the wall of your cervix with ferocity. He can’t take it anymore - he needs to come, he needs to watch it drip out of you precious cunt. Securing his hand around your ankle, Dante runts himself into your hole, gusts of wind sending goosebumps down your frame as his wings flap behind him with excitement. With a bellowing roar from him, you can feel the powerful deluge of seed swarm your body, gushing out and down your center. You feel like you’ve been hit by a semi-truck, limbs trembling and aching as you lay lifeless under him, gasping for air.

A glare of red light makes you wince, eyes straining against the light to see Dante devolve to his human form, dripping so much sweat it’s like he jumped in a pool. Dropping your ankles, he pushes himself between your legs and plants a sloppy, loving kiss on your mouth, hands threading in your hair. You kiss back weakly, shaky hands holding onto his arms. Pulling his head back, he examines you for any serious injuries, eyes conveying a battle of concern and satisfaction.

“You okay? Hurt? Was it too much? God, sorry- sorry, I-“

“Dante, I’m fine,” you let out a wavering chuckle, sitting up slightly. “That was…incredible. You were incredible.”

Dante meets your eyes again with a surprised laugh, in disbelief you’re praising him in a state like this. His fingers trail down to the bites along the outside of your thighs, vaguely recalling how your skin felt between his fangs in his primal craze. He remains plugged inside you, the intimate mixture of releases leaking between your bodies.

“Look at you…” Dante traces along a more gnarly mark in admiration, blood trickling over his finger. “How’d I get so damn lucky, huh?”

He brings his fingers to his lips and sucks off the blood, that all-too-familiar teasing gleam in his eyes as they lock on yours. A throaty moan leaves him as he swallows, fingers falling away with a string of spit. The scene goes straight down to your heat, walls closing around on him with need. Sitting all the way up, you grab his hand and playfully nip at his wrist, dilated eyes devoted to memorizing him in this moment.

“Can we go again?”

“Again?” Dante laughs, raising both eyebrows at you. “Honey, I don’t think th-“

“Please,” you pout at him, kissing along his hand til you can slip two of his fingers between your lips. Dante’s jaw goes slack, a heady breath fanning over your face as his cock twitches inside you from your plea. With a hard swallow, he nods, free hand cupping your face.

“Fiiiiine,” he sighs out, putting on a show of dramatics before a smile tugs at his lips. “Flip over for me, princess.”

[crumbledcastle28]

Joel Miller: Stay Down

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader (she/her; afab)

Word count: 3.2k

Summary: Joel thought he had grown accustomed to fear until he finds you covered in blood.

Excerpt: He swallowed, attempting to choose his words carefully. He had never been good with them, attributing his deficiency to a long line of likewise men before him. His brain poured for sonnets, poetry, prose that he had read in his insignificant time on this planet. Something to impress you, distract you, to take away that crestfallen look in your eye.

He couldn’t do it. He never would be. So, he used his mouth for something else.

Warnings: stitching of a wound, kissing, blood, blood loss, so much yearning, unestablished relationship, probably incorrect gun talk, Joel is scared of feelings.

A/N: This is me coping with the fact that we do not get more last of us in January. Also partially inspired by my favorite song maybe ever.

Pedro Masterlist

All my writing

Joel had found his hands becoming more and more susceptible to the cold as he got older.

They would crack and bleed, flaking dried skin within his decades-old gloves before November had even begun. This not only hurt like hell, but forced him to slow down and think about what he was doing to his body for once in his life. He had a harder time gripping the reins on a horse or fingering the trigger on a shotgun. Noticeably so. And living in a small town with a little brother foaming at the mouth to make old man jokes didn't help matters.

This is what led him to you.

He wouldn't call you a hoarder. Honestly, he would be the first to admit that you were one of the smartest people in Jackson. You had somehow become one of the most materialistically rich people in the town. You consistently managed to find the most randomly useful items on your patrols, things that people before the outbreak would never have even thought to miss.

Things like shoe insoles, ball point pens, Chapstick.

And luckily for him, lotion.

You never charged anyone for taking from what you had. Furthermore, you actively asked people if they needed anything. Even offering to scout around the area in search of specifics. Joel hadn't been around that kind of softness since...

Well, a long time.

This made him uncharacteristically nervous when he first approached your doorstep, but he knocked anyway. He had never in a million years expected to leave that house satisfied in more ways than one.

He blamed it on that stupid crinkle the skin underneath your eyes got whenever you smiled at him. He couldn't help but fall into your light.

This started a... friendship. Of sorts. He would come over when he needed you, and you would happily oblige. As time went on, the visits to yours became more and more frequent, frequent enough that the rest of the town seemed to be catching on. At least, that's what his brother had been hinting at through jabs and side comments.

"You smiled at me the other day, Joel," Tommy had said. "Actually smiled."

Joel responded with a gesture he was hoping Ellie would not pick up anytime soon.

Joel was...happy. Happy with the arrangement. He had a warm body – a fucking gorgeous warm body – to get his energy out with, and the woman inside the body seemingly had no issue with his lack of strings attached.

And yet, for some reason, this annoyed him.

There was some undetectable, bruised part of him that wanted you to…what exactly? Fight him on it? Confess your undying love for him? Pull him back into bed to cuddle?

There had to be either pheromones or crack cocaine in that honeyed floral perfume you always wore. You were beginning to drive him this insane. Unfortunately for him, the place he went when he was beginning to toe that line into insanity was always you.

Joel had checked the schedule posted in the main square, assigning every able-bodied person shifts of patrol. You had a shift earlier in the day, which usually kept you busy until noon. You would then shower, eat, and spend the rest of the afternoon doing whatever the hell you wanted.

Overtime, these mental gymnastics became muscle memory to Joel.

He huffed as he lugged his aching legs up your steps, their typical milk white now coated in an ugly muddy brown. Winter had begun, apparent by the puffs of Joel’s own breaths, and the snow in Jackson was trying desperately to keep up.

Joel balled his hands into fists as he planted both feet onto your porch, blowing into them quickly, before knocking three times. Spaced out enough, but not too much. He envisioned you smiling as you heard his signature knock, but cringed at himself internally, burying the thought instantly.

It fluttered back to the surface when he heard the pads of your footsteps somewhere in the house begin but extinguished itself when they dissipated.

He waited a few more seconds, the rational part of his brain saying that you must be in the middle of something, but the man part of his brain imagining you putting on your silky red robe he loved so much, only for him to take it off you so slowly it made his own fingers shake. He breathed in deep, the laundry detergent from his nylon coat mixed with the beginnings of December filling his nose, and cracked his neck while rocking back and forth on his heels.

His eyebrows came together when he heard another rustle, then nothing.

He knocked again.

Still, nothing,

He knew you were in there – he could hear you, clear as day, and he knew you could hear him – but for some reason, you weren’t coming to the door.

His much too weathered mind began to race, thinking of three possible explanations. One, you heard him knocking, and were ignoring him. Two, you somehow were not hearing him knock on the door. Or three, you for some reason were not able to get to the door.

Meaning, there was a possibility you weren’t alone in there, and not by choice.

“Y/N?” he asked loudly. “Y/N, are you in there?”

Nothing. A bit more rustling, maybe a slight groan, but nothing.

Joel’s fingers began to tingle, and it wasn’t from the cold. He knocked again, harder.

“Y/N, I know you’re in there,” he said loudly, “just…just tell me you’re okay.”

Silence.

He gripped the doorknob and jiggled it, hard enough for the wood to groan underneath his fingertips, but it was locked from the inside. He huffed, knocking again, his hot breaths now clouding his face. He felt an ache in his wrist.

He said your name one more time, hearing the beginnings of a voice he knew better than he should have muffled by the wood, and the door was flat in front of him before he could think twice.

He stomped his way inside, coating the ground with mud and snow, and his eyes darted around the familiar living room. His vision was tunneled, scrounging for the shape of you on the floor, draped over the couch, held at gunpoint. His heart pulsed in his ears.

You weren’t in the living room.

He stomped into the kitchen, the bathroom, the basement, nothing. All that was left was the bedroom.

There was no way in hell you were still asleep.

He practically sprinted to the room, preparing himself. He had seen what men did to women, the remnants of it anyway, and despite his state of denial, he could never in a million years handle the sight of you that way. In your own bed. In your own house. Likely one of your own friends.

He pulled open the door anyway, and was met with gold.

The room was dim except for the lamps you loved so dearly, spreading their warm, glowing, honeyed light across the room in streaks. He blinked his eyes to adjust, focusing in on your body on the bed. You were facing him, skin painted with similar golden streaks, highlighting the tears culminating under your eyes. You were sat crisscrossed, upper body totally bare, back slouched tightly, your body practically folded in on itself. Your right hand was pressed against your left shoulder blade, while your other was filled with wine-colored rags.

Blood-soaked rags.

His eyes met yours quickly, and despite their dampness, they still had that fucking crinkle.

You chuckled, your shoulders dropping up and down quickly as they always do.

“You know,” you said, voice curdled and tired, “if someone doesn’t answer the door, that’s usually them saying ‘leave me the hell alone.”

You chuckled again, this time finishing it off with a wince.

His hand slid slowly from the doorknob as he took a hesitant step towards you, his body tearing itself in half. One side begging to fold your body into him, bubbling you in a cocoon. The other, itching to tear whatever did this to you apart ligament by ligament.

Your eyes slowly drooped from humor to something like shame, like a kicked dog or a broken child, and he stepped forward again.

“Don’t,” you countered weakly. “Just…just don’t.”

You scooted away from him slightly, refusing to look at him, and applied more pressure to whatever was expelling that much blood from your shoulder. Pain was suddenly present in your face.

“You want me to leave?” he quickly countered.

You said nothing.

He walked to you, removing the hand you had pressed against your wound, and sucked in a quick breath.

“Probably the first time you’ve seen a revolver bullet in about twenty years, huh Joel?” you asked, chuckling once more.

He barely heard you.

You had gotten the bullet out, but it had sunken in deep. The skin around it was red and welting, so swollen that Joel had to guess you had already been working on it for at least an hour. He winced, imagining what kind of pain you were in, and the fact that you were dealing with it all yourself.

He swallowed grimly.

“Hand me that rag,” he said. He could tell how little strength you had left to fight him by how quickly the rag flopped into his hand.

He pressed it to the wound, and you hissed.

“Fuck Joel,” you whined, squeezing the covers of your bed so tightly your knuckles went white. He held his pressure, forcing himself to think straight.

He might as well have been feeling the pain in his own shoulder.

He finally eased his pressure, wiping away as much blood from the area as he could.

“You cleaned it pretty well,” he said softly, voice thick in his throat, so thick it was hard to speak. “But…it’s gonna need a stich or two.”

“Or seven,” you said, grabbing the first aid kit sat in the middle of the bed. You opened the bag with shaking hands, taking out the needle and thread. You attempted to begin threading the needle, but with your hands quaking so fiercely you only produced frustrated grunts and sighs. He moved to the front of the bed, the front of his body facing yours, and took the needle and thread from your hands, setting them to the side. He then held your hands in his, squeezing them slightly, before using one to tilt your chin up at him.

He sighed at the storm in your eyes.

“What happened?”

“Did you kick my fucking door down?”

“What happened?”

“I was stupid, that’s what happened.”

He sighed again. “You’ve never once been stupid.”

“Today I was.”

“How?”

“It’s how I always am.” Your voice cracked. “Thought I could pick some apples for Mrs. Lawrence down the street. She always talks about how much she loved that as a kid – a freshly picked apple. Went out too far. Felt a sudden burning in my shoulder and ended up having to take out six hunters all by myself. Six.”

A single tear dripped from your left eye, the gold from the lamps turning it to sunlight.

“I could’ve died. All for a fucking apple.”

You turned away from him again, and it took everything in him not to cup your face in his hands and turn you back to him. He had never seen you like this before. So… raw. Beaten. Trampled. Doused in self-hatred. He hated it.

And yet, he didn’t want to look away. He was slowly realizing that this was the part of you he had been desperate to see. Truth. Undercarriage. Weakness.

Human.

He swallowed, attempting to choose his words carefully. He had never been good with them, attributing his deficiency to a long line of likewise men before him. His brain poured for sonnets, poetry, prose that he had read in his insignificant time on this planet. Something to impress you, distract you, to take away that crestfallen look in your eye.

He couldn’t do it. He never would be. So, he used his mouth for something else.

Slowly, gentler than he ever had in his life, he brought his mouth to your cheekbone. You exhaled a prolonged breath, the heat of it cascading down the left side of his neck. It only prompted him to kiss you more, and more, and more. His lips traveling up into your hairline, across your forehead, down your nose, and finally onto your lips. His kiss there was tongueless, rather a soft press, and yet it meant more to him than any other one you had ever shared.

He could tell by your breathing that you agreed.

He pressed his forehead against yours, swallowing thickly. “I’m glad you didn’t. I don’t know…I don’t know what I would do if you did.”

Your stormy eyes turned into a sunrise, and Joel straightened his aching back to slowly remove his coat and boots. He placed them on the floor beside your bed, keeping his eyes on you the entire time. You watched him just the same, mouth propped open slightly.

He smirked as he set his things down. He then picked up the needle and thread while using his free hand to frame your face.

“I’ll be gentle,” he said, his thumb stroking your chin. “I promise.”

You nodded. “I know you will.”

His lips wanted to meet yours so badly it hurt, but he needed to stitch you. Quickly. For a wound as deep as the one you had, it should have been closed up hours ago.

He wouldn’t think about that now. He couldn’t.

He walked to the edge of the bed and turned you around, leaning you into him slightly to give your pretzeled back some support, and began.  

You were surprisingly unreactive when he first inserted the needle, taking it as delicately as he possibly could. It wasn’t until he began to tug the skin together that your body showed signs of pain.

“You’re going too slow,” you mumbled softly after he finished the second stitch. “Please go faster.”

His hands began to shake at your request. He didn’t blame you. Speed would make it hurt worse, but be over with quicker. He squeezed the top of your shoulder in response, threading the needle quickly and stitching over the center of the wound.

You let out a high-pitched whine, gripping onto the comforter at your side, and he couldn’t help but kiss the back of your neck.

He let your breathing steady, then stitched again, this time kissing your shoulder blade.

Another stitch, a kiss across your shoulders.

Another stitch, a kiss down your spine.

Another stitch, a kiss on your lower back.

After every stitch, he planted one. Something in him couldn’t help it.

He made his final stitch and cut the thread quickly, sealing it with a kiss on the side of your face. He tasted a mix of salty tears and heat from your skin. He watched your throat bobble as he moved away, finishing off the wound with a final cleaning. Alcohol and blood filled the air, along with undertones of sweat.

He had a feeling that last aroma came mostly from him.

He threw the needle and thread away into the small garbage can you kept near your bed before turning back to face you. You rested on the balls of your palms, leaning back to look at him as he walked back towards you. There was pain visible behind your eyes, he could see it, but they were coated in something else. Something somehow rawer than before.

“You should rest now,” he said, scruff evident in his voice from lack of use. He cleared it quickly. “You took a hell of a hit.”

You didn’t move. Joel moved to the first aid kit still sitting in the middle of the bed and used the (what had to be decades old) wet wipes on his hands. He tossed those as well, but you still hadn’t moved.

“There somethin’ on my face?”

You cracked a small smile. “Thank you, Joel,” you said quietly.

He hummed. “Don’t mention it.” He then leaned forward and scooped your body into his arms. You involuntarily rested against him, eyes fluttering already, but he set you down beneath your sheets and swiftly pulled them over you.

He laughed at your fight against your own exhaustion, pushing stray hairs away from your forehead. He pulled away from you, beginning to walk out of the room. A fierce grip pulled him backwards.

“Stay,” you mumbled weakly. “Please stay.”

He inhaled deeply. The sweet cocktail of your voice mixed with those words fucking inebriating him, so much so he was surprised he was still standing up straight. He felt physically winded.

He squeezed your hand. “I’ll be right back. Stay down.”

You smiled, loosening your grip, letting your hand fall back into the bed.

Joel walked quietly out of the room but would be the last to admit how he practically sprinted to your kitchen and scoured your cabinets like a man being chased. He found your pain meds, pouring two into his hand, and filling up a small glass of water. He gave a slow, silent jog back to your room.

He felt equally as winded when he caught the view of the setting sun between your windows, glazing over you like a statue in Rome he had once seen on a traveling magazine. The streaks of leftover tears were highlighted in the light, as well as a small crease in your brow.

That is what told him you were not quite yet out cold.

He brought the meds and water to you, tucking your hair behind your ear to alert you of his presence. You opened your eyes and practically inhaled the medicine before laying back down on your side.

Joel removed his shirt in a blink and tucked himself in behind you, ensuring your stitches were not firmly pressed against him, but pressed just enough to ease soreness. You curved into him perfectly, as he did to you. He wrapped his arm around your frame, taking your hands in his and massaging them gently.

You hummed. “Promise you’ll stay?”

He knew your voice like that better than any man in the world.

He pressed a final kiss to your shoulder. “I’m stayin.’”

Tag List: (if you would like to be added please let me know!)

@untitledarea @avengersfan25 @lexloon @daphne-turner @leeeesahhh

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

wake up call

Summary: Joel was looking forward to a blissfuly at least 10 hours of sleep after being on patrol non stop for a week. Confused after waking up after only a couple of hours he is beyond pissed once he finds out it's a lawnmower of all things that woke him up twenty years into the apocalypse. And he sure as hell is gonna let his neighbour know how he feels about that, no matter how good she looks in those leggings.

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem. reader

Wordcount: 2.2k

Raiting: T

Warnings: lawnmowers at 7 am, a very sleep deprived Joel Miller, yelling, yelling while naked, Joel being kind of a dick but making up for it, tension, flirting, one or two inappropriate thoughts, it's pretty tame tbh

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Full Masterlist // Joel Miller Masterlist

Joel was beyond exhausted. 

With a group of raiders getting a little too close to Jackson than they liked, the last week had been non stop patrol with only little sleep. 

But yesterday, finally, they had gotten the group taken care off and Joel had gotten home at 3 am, intending to not leave his bed until at least noon. He had checked on Ellie who was passed out asleep in her bed, the book she had been reading fallen out of her hands, now laying on the floor. He had picked it up, tucked her in and turned off the lamp on her bed side table, releasing a long, tired sigh as he made his way towards his room afterwards. 

Within fifteen minutes he had taken a quick shower, making sure to use the blackout curtains he had found in the basement a month earlier, before he passed out in his bed, in a blissful, dreamless sleep. 

A sleep that ended way earlier than he anticipated. With his eyes still closed, he turned from his belly on his back, eyes slowly blinking open with a frown. 

The red digits of the clock on his bedside table glaring at him at 6:58 am (or whatever time it actually was. The satellite to the clock probably having died a long time ago)

He threw an arm over his eyes, slivers of light coming though his curtains, the day outside slowly starting while he wanted nothing more than to fall back asleep. 

Why did he wake up?

Eyes dropping back closed, he was about to turn to his side, pulling his blanket up when he heard it. 

A noise. 

A low hum that he couldn’t place at first. 

He searched his brain, the noise somehow familiar much like the annoyance that came with it. 

A sound from another time. 

A time where he also tried to sleep in, only for his little girl to climb into his bed, equally grumpy about being woken up by the same noise he was hearing now. 

Back then it was the Adlers impeccable timing of mowing their lawn precisely at 7 am every Saturday morning, even though the could have done it any other day of the week. Still, instead of using the time they were at home all week while the rest of the population went to work, like clockwork, they would mow their lawn every Saturday at 7 am sharp. 

„What the fuck?“ He whispered to himself, turning his head towards the window as if he could see through the curtain what was going on outside. 

It was twenty fucking years into the end of the world, who was mowing their lawn at 7 am on his day off?

With a mood worse than when Tommy had crashed Joel’s first car before the outbreak he got out of the bed, naked as he had fallen asleep with a groan, stomping towards his window. He ripped the curtains apart, eyes squinting from how bright it was on this summer morning already when his eyes finally fell on who was the culprit in his sleepy plans. 

You. 

His new neighbour. 

He had seen you in passing a couple of times since you got here. 

Maria had told him you had fled from a year long capture of some slavers, urging him to take it easy on you and not be his usual asshole self with being new neighbours and all. 

He had scowled all the way back home.

It had not been his fault that the men who had lived in your house before had been a fucking creep. He had to punch him in the face. Really. 

Taking a deep calming breath he looked down towards your backyard now, his bedroom window facing it, giving him the perfect view on whatever the hell you were doing. 

He noticed that the garden looked well taken care off now, not like the jungle like garden he had in the back of his house. You had cut down some trees, getting rid of some bushes. There were some flowers blooming close to the fence, but in the middle was you. 

Wearing what looked like leggings and a baby pink tank top, pushing a fucking lawnmower through the knee high grass. 

The picture was so foreign to him, he forgot why he was mad for a second. 

It was the lawnmower throwing him off, of course. Or the way you seemed to have no idea how to mow the lawn in the first place, going through your garden in pure chaos. 

It wasn’t you in that outfit that hugged every curve of your body like a second skin. It wasn’t the way he could see the sweat running down your neck even from how far away he was standing as you pushed the mower through your garden. And it definitely wasn’t how your ass looked when you bend down to reach for something, his cock twitching in interest he ignored. 

No.

It was the fucking lawnmower.

Before he knew what he was doing he had ripped the window open. 

„What the fuck are you doing? You want us all to get killed just to have an English fucking lawn?“ He yelled loudly, internally cringing at the way he saw you jump before your head snapped towards him. The noise of the lawnmower stopped and you brought one of your glove covered hands up to shield your eyes from the sun as you looked up. 

He didn’t see the way your eyes widened to not only see him, but to see him as naked as the day he was born standing in his bedroom window. 

„Good morning to you too!“ You yelled back and Joel felt a muscle twitch in his jaw. 

„Stop this fucking nonsense, or I will,“ he said with a huff and now he saw you roll your eyes. 

„Just so you know, I got permission to use it form the council. Fixed the lawnmower myself,“ you said almost proudly, your eyes finally drifting away from his impressive manhood, looking at his garden. 

„Think your garden could use it too,“ you said, before you looked up at him again. 

„I mean it, stop it, or I will,“ he warned before he closed his window and the curtains again. His heart was beating wildly in his chest, his breathing rapid as he tried to calm down, agitated about the audacity of the woman living next to him. 

And what if she had the permission for this nonsense? But to do it at 7 am? 

He released a long breath before he padded over to his little ensuite bathroom, doing his business before he got back into bed, intending to fall back asleep again when the noise outside started again. 

He could let this go. Turn around, hide his head under his pillow and fall asleep. 

Hell, he slept through much worse things since the outbreak started and even before. 

Instead he got up, threw the curtains and window open and yelled:

„Get that fucking thing off!“ 

This time you didn’t even look at him. But you did react, holding one of your hands up, giving him your middle finger while you continued to mow the lawn, seemingly without any plan what you were doing. 

„Fuck this,“ he hissed to himself, before he turned away from the window and searched for his clothes. 

You were getting the hang of this thing, when you saw something move beside you. Turning your head around your eyes widened when you saw your neighbour walk towards you, this time dressed, but no less handsome. 

Making sure to turn the lawnmower off you took a deep breath before you turned fully towards him, ready to argue with him some more when he held one of his hand up in surrender. 

„Let me mow the fucking lawn so I can go back to sleep. I got home from patrol at 3 am. I just wanna sleep and I can’t do this with whatever it is you think you’re doing here,“ he said and your mouth dropped open in offence, ready to argue with him when you noticed the dark circles under his eyes. 

You had heard about the group of raiders that had been threatening the town these last weeks. And you knew you neighbour Joel Miller, even though you hadn’t really talked to him before, was in charge of leading patrol. 

And yeah, maybe it was a dick move to test the lawnmower at 7 am but the last week had been so hot and you had been so excited to finally got the permission to try it out, since construction was working outside of the wall today and would be able to keep an eye on anyone who could have heard you make this noise that you wanted to take care of this before the heat got worse. 

„I’m…. It’s okay. I’ll stop. I didn’t realise….“ you stumbled over your words and Joel stepped closer, making your breath hitch as you tilted your head up to look at him. 

„Please. As an apology. Lemme mow your lawn,“ he said, head tilted as he looked down at you with those big brown eyes and you felt yourself take a step back, almost stumbling over your own feet when he gave you a small smile. 

Joel on the other side flexed his fingers as he walked past you before his hand gripped the handle of the lawnmower, knuckles almost turning white as he inhaled the soft scent of lavender you carried with you. 

„I’ll…. I’ll get you some coffee,“ you mumbled and he raised one eyebrow as he looked at you, already feeling the sweat run down his back from the way the sun was burning down at him. 

„You have coffee?“ He started the lawnmower and you nodded. 

„Might make me less of an asshole once I had one,“ he joked, winking at you and you felt yourself smile while your cheeks flushed. 

„That’s all it takes? A coffee to tame the asshole?“ You teased and his shoulders shook with a huff. 

„I said might. Guess we gonna find out once I had it,“ he said before he turned his head from you and started going in straight lines through your garden. 

And you watched him. Watched him as you walked inside. Watched him as you made the coffee. Watched him as you cut down a piece of the lemon cake you had made the day before. Watched him as he pulled at the front of his shirt to wipe away some sweat from his forehead giving you a nice view of the chest and the little trail of hair leading down towards his groin< you had seen earlier when he yelled down at you. 

You set everything up on the small table on your back porch, thankful that it sat under a tree, giving you some shade. 

Faster than you would ever been he was finished with the whole yard, rolling the lawnmower towards the little shed you had found it in before he walked towards your house and up to your back porch. He was sweating profusely and for some reason you thought about how it would taste when you liked it off of him. 

Shaking your head you smiled thankful at him when he let himself sit down across from you, reaching for the coffee. 

„Fuck, that’s good,“ he moaned after the first sip of coffee and you clenched your thighs at his tone. 

„Good enough to get rid of the asshole?“ You asked with a smirk and he shook his head with a small grin. 

„I’m sorry for yelling. I’d say I’m not usually like that but I’d be lyin’“ he said and you laughed. 

„At least you’re honest,“ you said and he sighed, reaching for the piece of cake, before he almost inhaled it. 

„Fuck, that was delicious,“ he groaned and you smiled. 

„I’m glad. It’s a sorry and a thank you,“ you said and he nodded, before he got up with a groan. 

„Just doing some neighbourly things. Don’t have the best track record with being a people person,“ he shrugged as he walked down your back porch. 

„Still, thank you. You got it done much faster than I would and now you can go back to sleep and I promise I won’t wake you,“ you smiled as you followed him. 

„Much appreciated, darlin’,“ he said. 

You sucked your bottom lip in as you looked after him. 

„Though if you feel the need to yell at me again, do it from your bedroom window again…“ You said and he turned to look at you, frowning.

„I enjoyed the view,“ you winked and it took a couple of seconds before his eyes widened, finally realising he had been completely naked and you most likely got a full view of his junk. 

He gulped, before he hummed. 

„That so?“ He asked and you nodded. 

„I’ll keep that in mind, darlin’“ he winked with a small smirk, before he made his way back to his house where he took a shower and moaned your name as he jerked off thinking about what your body looked like beneath the tight clothes you had been wearing today. 

Before he finally, finally got to bed and slept. 

[dreaming-medium]

Stray Kids Kinktober Day 3

Stray Kids Kinktober Masterlist

Hate Sex - Changbin

Word Count: 3.7k

Summary: Why is he always there? And why is he always using the equipment you need? How is it Seo Changbin knows exactly when to hog everything you need at the gym? It’s time to piss him off as much as he pisses you off.

————————————————————

It’s a 24 hour gym. That’s why you joined. 

There’s nothing worse than dragging yourself to the gym only to find every machine that you want or need to use is taken. 

But since this one is open 24 hours a day, you can get there at ungodly hours of the morning and everything should be open for use, right?

Wrong. 

He is always there. The bane of your existence: Seo Changbin. 

You swear this man practically lives at the gym. 

If you show up after dinner, he shows up after dinner. If you park your car in the lot at noon, you best believe his sleek black sports car is already there. When you walk in around breakfast, there he is– always hogging the single working foldable weight bench. 

There were other weight benches in the gym, he just chose to always use that one. 

And he does even use it properly! He doesn’t fold it up for back support, no, he uses it as a regular bench. 

“Do you mind using one of the other benches so I can have this one?” You tried asking him once. 

Changbin huffed and moved his headphone off one ear, balancing the 50 pound weight on his thigh. “What?”

“Can I use this bench please? I can bring one of the others over for you.”

“Can’t you see it’s being used?”

“Yeah, but it’s the only folding one that works and you don’t even need it like that.”

“I might.”

You rolled your eyes, “Do you really?”

“Maybe. Now, if you don’t mind.”

Without waiting for an answer, he pulled his headphones back on and looked away from you and at his form in the mirror. 

You groaned and walked away.

Ever since that day, you know he’s been going out of his way to get that bench whenever he can. 

His ass is always firmly planted on that weight bench. His perfectly round, muscular ass. 

It infuriates you to no end. 

Each time you look around for the bench and make eye contact with him, the only response Changbin has is a dark smirk. 

Slowly but surely, it became more than just the folding bench. 

The tricep strap for the cable machine was never there when you needed it. Changbin was using it. 

Where’s the ab roller? Changbin has it in front of him. 

The fifteen pound kettle bell? In fucking Seo Changbin’s hands. 

It’s like he has your routine memorized.

Your rage meter can only fill up so much before it bubbles over like a volcano erupting. 

Were you being ridiculous now? Perhaps. 

But at 3 AM, you’re certain there’s absolutely no way in hell Seo Changbin is going to be at the gym. 

Could you just join another one? Sure. But is your pride going to let you? Absolutely not. 

No one goes to the gym at three in the morning, at least no sane person does. 

So, why the hell do you see a black, luxury car in the parking lot. It’s the only car in the entire lot. 

Frustration gets the better of you and you slam your hand on the steering wheel. 

“What the hell!”

You furiously park your car. This was your last straw, you barely remember to yank your gym bag out of the back seat before setting on your war path into the building. 

Why the fuck was he here so early? Does he live here? Is he bound to the building by some curse? Is he bound to you by some curse?

You rip the door open, it practically flies off the hinges. There’s no one at the front desk. Of course there isn’t, who the hell would come here at this time?

Changbin is in the back where he usually is, sitting on that fucking weight bench. 

He doesn’t seem to have noticed you storm into the gym yet. He’s too focused on the bicep curls he’s pumping. 

Maybe if you weren’t blinded by your rage you would’ve taken the time to stop and stare at the way his arms flex in that compression shirt. 

Your bag drops onto the floor. That’s when he looks up in the mirror.

Changbin’s face goes through several different emotions. 

Surprise, shock, confusion, then finally, arrogance. 

He places his weights on the floor and takes his headphones off just in time for you to open your mouth. 

“What’s the big idea, huh?” You start, “Do you enjoy making my life miserable? Why are you here?”

Changbin stays sitting on the bench and arches an eyebrow at you. 

“Now that I’m here do you want me to go grab all the equipment I plan on using? Should I gather it all by your feet and just leave? But even if I come back you’ll still be here, won’t you? Do you live here or something?”

His smirk only grows bigger and bigger. He tongues his cheek and stares into your eyes, which are burning with anger. 

A bead of sweat rolls down the side of his face and drips onto one of his exposed thighs. 

Changbin says nothing for a long moment before he looks back into the mirror and preps himself for another set. 

“I always come here this early.” He says cockily.

“Like hell you do.” you snap back at him. Your fists clench at your sides in anger. 

“Sorry, Princess. Try again another time.”

“Have you ever tried not being a dick for three seconds?”

“Have you?”

Your jaw drops and you stand there dumbfounded for a moment. 

“I am perfectly pleasant! You’re the one going out of your way to make my life miserable!”

“You really think the world revolves around you, huh?”

“Two days ago, you sat with the lat pull-down bar next to you for two hours while I waited for you to actually use it, you didn’t.”

Your arms cross over your chest. 

Changbin winks at you, “So you’re saying you watched me for two hours? How was my form? Perfect, right?”

“You’re insufferable.”

“Takes two to tango, babe.”

“Don’t—!“ Your own frustration cuts you off. “Don’t call me that! Fucking Christ.” 

And with that, you turn on your heel, snatch your bag off the ground and stomp towards the locker room. 

You’re positively seething with rage because of him. Who does he think he is?

You were not a dick! You were very nice in the beginning, explaining why you needed that bench; he’s the one that took it further than that. 

Ripping your jacket off, you practically launch it into the locker, pulling out the various things you will be using and slamming them on the bench. 

Since he’s still on the goddamn bench, it’ll be leg day, so you pull out your lifting gloves and pre workout. After dry scooping, you let it dissolve in your mouth with a big swig of water and adjust your clothes. 

The new matching GymShark set you ordered came in and it is doing wonders for your body. How great you look in this outfit is about the only plus for today. 

It’s a bright pink set that’s basically spandex shorts and a sports bra. 

And damn, you look good. 

As time ticks on in the locker room, your rage turns to a smoldering anger. 

He’s on the bench. Which means the Smith Machine is free. 

After filling your water bottle up to the top, you head out to the gym floor, headphones blasting pump up music. 

Changbin is still sitting on the folding bench when you come out of the locker room. He’s presumably in between sets since he’s looking down at his phone. His own water bottle held loosely in the other hand. 

You look away before he looks up and turn your music up louder. When you lift, you always need something that really pumps you up. 

When you get to the smith machine you put your things down and start to get it prepped. First, before squats or anything, you want to do deadlifts, and for that you need to get so much ready. 

You roll a bar out and slide on your preferred weight on either side. The entire time you can practically feel Changbin’s eyes following each one of your movements. 

Once everything is prepped, you put your gloves on and walk over to the bar. 

Your form is perfect, you know that, you’ve been doing this for years. Plus, there’s always that small bit of anxiety when you go to the gym that you’ll be doing something wrong.

So you poured hours of research into making sure everything you’re doing is right. Plus, this way, you also don’t need to worry about someone coming up and correcting you. 

At the end of your set you drop the bar to the ground. It hits the padded floor with a loud clang!. 

Everyone who lifts at this gym drops their weights, it’s nothing new at all. 

But, you see Changbin’s head snap over to you out of the corner of your eye.  

He can eat shit. 

You pace around a little in between sets, catching your breath and taking swigs of water. Bopping your head to the music a bit and thinking about what you’re going to do for the day. 

Time for set two. 

Same thing, you do all your reps and then drop the weight at the end. 

This time, though, you hear something through your music. 

Looking around, you see Changbin staring right at you with a sneer pulled at his lips. He motions for you to take your headphones off. 

You roll your eyes, but do so anyway. 

“What?” you ask. 

“Can you not do that?” he asks. By his tone, he is very obviously annoyed. 

“Do what?”

“Drop your weights.” 

“Everyone here drops their weights. Why is it different if I do it?”

“I hate it when everyone does it. You’re not special.”

You scoff and look away from him again, putting your headphone back over your ear. Changbin’s silent anger could be felt from across the gym. 

Set three. Same exact routine. 

And this time, you go out of your way to drop your weights at the end of the set. 

The mat on the floor vibrates and one machine next to you shakes a bit. 

“Yah!” Changbin yells through your music. 

Turning to look at him, he’s already walking towards you, fists clenched. 

You stand your ground, watching him stomp over to you. This time, you don’t even take your headphones off. 

Once he’s in front of you his mouth moves with whatever he’s saying. You watch him for a moment, pretending to listen to what he’s saying. 

Then you nod, putting on a show with exaggerating your movements, pretending to understand. You hold up one finger, his eyebrows furrowed together and his mouth shuts. 

You turn and grab your phone off the floor, lighting up the screen and holding it up to his face. 

“Cut The Cord by Shinedown.” you say loudly, showing him your music in his face. 

Changbin’s face contorts into an even angrier one. He bares his teeth and his shoulders raise a bit towards his ears as his fists clench more. 

All you do is smile innocently and turn around to go back to your set. 

A very large, strong hand grabs your wrist and you’re yanked back around towards him. You gasp when you’re pulled back towards him.

Changbin uses his other hand to yank your headphones off your head and throw them onto the floor. Your phone also tumbles down to the matted floor. 

“What the fuck is your prob—“

You’re cut off by Changbin grabbing your face tightly, fingers and thumb pressing harshly into your cheeks, causing your lips to pucker. 

“You just had to be fucking annoying, huh?” he asks, his voice dipping to a dangerous octave. “Always walking around here like you own the place, like you know everything.”

If looks could kill, he’d be dead. But then again, so would you.  

“Fucking let me go, Changbin.” you struggle against his hold. Changbin quickly releases your wrist to wrap his entire fist in your ponytail. He tugs harshly, bringing your face close to his. 

“I bet no one has ever put you in your fucking place before.” he growls and you’re so ashamed at the way your insides flip. 

You pull harder and harder against his grip, but it’s no use. 

“I asked you nicely to stop slamming your weights.”

“The fuck you did!” you quip back. 

He yelled at you to stop dropping your weights. 

His grip tightens on your face and he brings your body even closer to his. The heat radiating off his skin was insane. A bead of sweat drips down the side of his face. 

“Maybe someone should shut you up for once.”

“Maybe someone should—“

His lips slam into yours in a harsh meeting. Like a lightning bolt travels down your spine, your entire body feels like it’s tingling. The feeling goes straight to your cunt. 

A loud groan comes from the back of your throat. You kiss him back for about five seconds before you remember what the fuck you’re doing. 

You bite down on his lip, hard. 

Changbin yelps and brings his face away from yours. But his grip on your jaw remains solid. 

His deep brown eyes darken significantly and the only way to describe his stare is predatory. 

It’s like you just cocked the gun aimed at your own head, his finger on the trigger. 

In an entirely too swift series of movements, Changbin spins your body around and bends you over the back hyperextension standing equipment. 

The hand in your hair tightens significantly, he straddles the back of you, pressing his body completely flush with your back. 

His other hand comes around the front of you to cover your mouth. 

With no bit of gentleness, he shakes your face around and positions it forward. 

“Fucking look at that beautiful sight.”

You’re staring at yourself in the mirror in front of you. In the mirror, you can see Changbin’s eyes raking over your form. 

Against your ass you can feel his dick twitch in his gym shorts. 

Again, your cunt clenches around nothing at the feel of him against you. 

“So gorgeous when you shut the fuck up,” he whispers into your ear.

You should not be turned on by this. You should be fighting back with all your strength and slapping him across his perfectly handsome face. This is Changbin, the same guy who’s done nothing but be a thorn in your side for the past few months! 

But he’s also the same guy that looks fucking delicious in those black compression shirts. 

“Maybe it’s time someone teaches you a lesson on what happens when you talk back, little girl.” he sneers with a cocky smirk. 

You struggle against his grasp, it just makes him tighten his hold on you even more. Your scalp screams from his harsh tug, but it feels so good.

Squinting your eyes shut, you swallow a whimper from coming out. 

Both of your elbows are underneath you, holding your weight up on the pads. You’re trying so hard not to look into the mirror in front of you; you know that if you see the way his body is caged around you, you’ll lose it. 

Changbin presses his cock into your ass even harder, the feeling goes straight to your core and down your legs.

“Always in these tight fucking shorts, galavanting around the gym getting everyone’s dick hard.”

You thrash around just a bit underneath him and he holds you tighter. Your eyes open and you turn your head a little to stare at the wall, lips pulled into a sneer. 

“What’s the matter, little girl? Hate knowing that everyone’s eyes always follow your bouncing tits around the gym? That this gym is the most packed when they know you have leg day?”

Over and over his hips roll into your ass, the friction feels delicious. You’re thanking the GymShark gods that their materials don’t show moisture through the fabric.

“Does the little princess have nothing to say now?”

When you let out muffled noises, Changbin only laughs.

“Fuck you, and fuck your stupid fucking folding weight bench.” 

He leans his head down and bites your neck so hard you’re sure his teeth imprint will be there for days. The squeal that comes from your mouth is muffled by his hand.

Changbin takes his hand out of his hair to reach down and yank your shorts down over your ass.

As soon as the cool air of the gym hits your exposed core, you hiss and squirm around in his grip even more. 

“Fuck… Look at that. The princess doesn’t wear panties to the gym.” When you look at him in the mirror, he’s staring at your cunt while biting his lower lip.

His eyes are looking at your glistening folds like he’s taking in a work of art.

The hand over your mouth comes around your neck to hold your head down by your nape. His fingers thread into your hair right at the base to keep a firm restraint on you.

Two of his fingers run through your soaking wet folds, “So fucking wet for me, babe. Who knew you got off arguing with me as much as I did?”

“Fuck you.” you spit out.

Changbin’s eyes meet yours in the mirror for a split second, his grip on your head forces you down even more. 

He reaches down and pushes his shorts down just enough for his cock to spring free.

Holy fuck, he’s fucking big. Prominent veins run up his length. Your eyes widen in shock and he looks so fucking smug about it.

At this point, you’re positively dripping wet. 

Fisting one hand on his cock, he runs the head up and down your cunt, catching on your clit a few times and making you gasp and squirm a bit.

“Jesus fuck, if you’re gunna fuck me, why don’t you do it already?” you bite at him.

Changbin spits directly on your cunt.

“With pleasure, princess.”

He bottoms out in one hard thrust and your mouth falls open in a silent scream. Your eyes squint shut and eyebrows pinch together.

Changbin does not wait for you to adjust to him. He grips your hair as tight as he can and thrusts into you mercilessly. 

The wet slapping noises fill the air of the gym and echo off the bare walls; there’s no music or anything to drown out the lewd sounds of your bodies conjoining.

Every single thrust feels so fucking deep inside you it’s driving you fucking wild, it’s like he;s fucking through you.

“Holy fuck– hng– you’re fucking tight!” he grunts out.

In the mirror you can see his face screwing up in the angriest display of pleasure you’ve ever seen. He’s positively seething with how good it feels to have you clamp down on his cock.

All you’re able to do is pant and moan and practically drool with how amazing it feels inside of you. But despite the pleasure you’re feeling, you can’t allow yourself to give him the satisfaction of knowing how good it feels.

With each thrust, you do your damndest to keep the reactions to a minimum.

He notices. 

“Oh, fuck you.” he pants out. You both make eye contact in the mirror and hold it.

He pulls your hair to bring your back up against his clothes chest, his hand comes around to hold you by the throat.

This new angle allows him to bully your g-spot over and over again. You can’t help it anymore, your eyes roll back into your head and your mouth falls open with a strangled moan.

“That’s what I fucking thought, bitch. Feel how good my cock is making you feel, you can’t fucking lie to me, I can feel you clenching down on me, soaking my dick.”

Tiny whimpers leave your throat.

Changbin reaches his other hand down and begins toying with your clit, rubbing circles at the same rhythm that his thrusts were going in.

The combination of the two has you seeing stars.

“Shit–!” he moans out in your ear, “Pussy so tight when I do that, fuck!”

His hand around your throat squeezes a bit, making it hard to breathe, but my god it’s so erotic.

“Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you.” you pant out in between each thrust.

“Fuck me?” he says incredulously, he grabs your jaw and forces you to look at yourself in the mirror. “Fucking look at yourself, getting fucked raw by my cock in the middle of the gym where anyone could walk in.”

Another clench down on his cock.

“Fucking bitch, you like that, huh?”

You can’t take your eyes off where your bodies are joined together, his cock slips in and out of you so easily, entirely coated in your combined juices. His thick fingers rubbing your clit, hurling you towards your orgasm.

“Shit.” you hiss as you approach that edge, it makes your toes curl in your sneakers. “G’na cum.” you mumble.

“Is that right?” Changbin says in your ear and immediately his pace increases.

You cry out and throw your head back, but Changbin forces it back down.

“No, you’re going to watch,” he growls. “You’re going to watch yourself fucking cum all over my cock. And then you’re going to watch me cum in this tight pussy.”

All you can do is pant and keep your eyes focused on his thrusts, the way his balls smack against your skin with each one.

More and more and more the pressure builds until it's too much and you finally topple over the edge.

You cry out and try to look away, but Changbin’s firm grip keeps you there.

“Holy fucking shit, fuck fuck, ah shit!”

Immediately after your orgasm you feel your insides flood with something warm and sticky. Within seconds you watch as it begins to leak out of you around Changbin’s now softening cock. 

Both of you sit there for a moment, panting in silence. No other sounds fill the gym until Changbin finally speaks up.

“Next time, don’t slam the weights in my gym.”

Of fucking course he was the owner. 

[kenzie-floops]

Visions of You: A Lilia Calderu x femaledivination!reader

Heyyyy this is my return to fanfic, but it's been a while so I'm a bit rusty. Constructive criticism not insults please! If you don't like it.. don't read it, it's that's simple.

This will be the first part of a new series I'm working on called Visions of You. Reader is a female divinations witch, around the same age as Lilia, but physical appearance is up to you. More will be revealed later, but a happy ending is in store!

If you'd like to be added to the tag list, or taken off, let me know!

Warnings: cussing

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KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!

I roll over and peep open my eyes to look at my alarm clock. 12:42. What the hell is someone banging on my door this time of day for? 

I push myself up out of bed, and wrap my robe around myself as I make my way to the door. 

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK! 

“I’m coming, i’m coming!” I shouted. Could they bang any harder on my door?!?

I quickly grab the front door and thrust it open, blinking quickly at the sunlight. 

“Yes? What do you need so urgently you almost banged my door down?” I grumpily ask the two strangers standing at my door as I attempt to wipe away some of the groggy sleep from my eyes. 

“Oh!” A shrill voice pipes up. “Sorry about that, we’re just in a bit of a rush. Didn’t mean to give you such a harsh wake-up. Although it is past noon on a weekday…” The voice trails off and I snap my head up.

I had to pick up an extra shift last night at the club because one of the other bottle girls had gotten sick. That meant working on my feet for longer than usual, and I was definitely tired from the extra hours.

“Listen kiddo, i work the night shift down at the club and i’ve only been asleep for a couple hours, so excuse me if i’m a little grumpy at the fact some kid was banging on my door while i'm trying to rest” i huff out with impatience. “Now will you kindly get off my doorstep? I don’t want your cookies, or t-shirts or whatever the hell it is you’re selling”. 

I turned to close the door when the woman I hadn't noticed standing next to the teenager spoke. 

“Seriously, Y/N? Working at the local club? I didn’t think you had the guts for stripping” she says while snickering. 

I bristle at the insult. “Now just wait a minute here. I’m not a stripper, I'm a bottle girl! And who are you to throw around judgment, showing up on my front door when I don't even know…” I trail off as i get a good look at her face and recognize just who’s come to bother me. No way…

“Well holy shit!” I exclaim, throwing my hands up in the air. I lean against the door frame and look her up and down slowly.  “Now that’s a face I haven't seen in a few centuries. Agatha fucking Harkness! Can’t say I've missed your presence. What brings you to my doorstep?” 

“I’ve got a proposition for you. Mind if we come in?” she questions as she gestures inside.

I throw my head back in laughter before turning around to go inside, leaving the door ajar. 

“Sure!” I yell over my shoulder. “Come on in. I’m gonna make some tea.” 

Both Agatha and the boy trail after me into the kitchen. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the boy following my movements as he takes in my kitchen. It’s full of dried herbs and flowers hanging from faded yellow walls. I fling open my aged brown cabinets and rifle around for a mason jar of tea leaves. 

As I prepare my water to boil and place the tea leaves in a sachet I ask “So, what brings you by Agatha? Looking for me to join you on one of your latest murder sprees in the search for some powerful totem?” 

I turn from the counter to face them, seeing that Agatha has already made herself comfortable at my small dining table. The boy was standing awkwardly behind her. 

I look the boy up and down and raise my eyebrows at Agatha. “What’s with the boy?” i question, “Finally taken on an apprentice to teach your dark and evil ways to? He seems quite young to be following in your trail of corrupted darkness.” 

The boy goes to respond, but Agatha cuts him off. “No, no, no, this is Teen and he’s…” She trails off a bit and I go to finish pouring my tea. Teen? That’s a strange name. Whatever. He got himself involved with Harkness, not my problem to deal with. 

“ A pet. Yes!” she exclaims, clapping her hands. “He’s my pet. Now listen Y/N i have a proposition for you.” 

I roll my eyes at her. “Agatha, I really don’t know what’s got you at my house stirring shit up, but I can assure you I'm not interested. If your undoubtedly dangerous proposal was all you came for, you best be going now.” 

I move to usher her out the door before ‘Teen’ shouts out. “We’re going on the Witches Road and we want you to join us!” 

He looks down a bit sheepishly as I give a bug eyed stare. 

“Please?” he hesitantly asks. “We need a divination witch and the road will give you what you want most if you join us.” He’s gotta be kidding. The Road is a death wish. 

I swiftly turn to Agatha, who shakes her head in exasperation at Teen. 

“Really, Agatha?!” I exclaim, throwing my hand up in the air and moving wildly around the room. “The Road is a death wish. No one makes it through. What have you deluded this poor boy into thinking?” 

“She hasn’t deluded me!”, Teen replies. “It was my idea actually.” 

I bury my head in my hands. No way am I joining Agatha Harknesse’s coven to journey down the Witches Road. I am not that crazy, despite what some may think and say.

“Oh hell no. Thank you but no thank you for the offer. I plan on staying alive for the foreseeable future. Harkness, take the boy and leave,” I whip around to face her, “ and please don’t come back. I don’t need whatever's got you spooked enough to go on the witches road coming after me”. 

“Oh come on!” she exasperatedly yells. “We both know you’ve been searching for something you’re never gonna find Y/N.” How the hell does she know about that? I’ve never told her of my visions of her. But then again, I asked around for decades. Maybe she caught wind of it through the grapevine of the witch community. 

“Travel the Witches Road with me” she offers. “The Road will give you what you want most when we reach the end”. 

“If we reach the end” I interject. “If.”

She’s right though. If i join them, and can successfully make it to the end of the road it will tell me how to find her. All those visions of her for all those years… Her beautiful brown eyes, her soft curly hair. What I wouldn't give to see her smile for real, and not just in a vision. 

I sigh heavily as I bring my eyes to Agatha’s. I’m seriously considering it, and for a moment I almost say yes… but I know Agatha’s reputation. Even though at one point I would have liked us to be friends, I know I can't trust her. Going on the Road with her would be certain death, and then i’d never find her.

“Agatha…” I start. “I can’t. I just can’t. Now if that's all, get out of my house. I’m tired.” 

“Ok, ok” she says, lifting her hands in mock surrender as she turns to leave. 

Unexpectedly, Teen makes his way towards me. “Here” he says as he places a card in my hand. “This is Agatha’s address. Be here tonight at 6:30 if you change your mind, and I hope you will” he says as smiles. 

“Teen!” Agatha barks from the doorway. “Come on! We don’t have all day” 

Teen runs after her, and as suddenly as they had woken me, they left, and I was there to sit with my own thoughts. 

At least my tea has cooled off enough to drink. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

@end0r4

[kenobers]

Jason Todd Headcanons

just a few thoughts that help inform the way i write this doof. it's linked below as well, but check out jason's spotify wrapped if you have a minute! ;-)

Samsung User

Jason says he likes his coffee dark, but secretly orders flavored lattes (see that one Hozier photo)

Puts cinnamon in his coffee grounds

He may have good taste in books, but he's got shit taste in movies

Loves a few basic safe picks - Fight Club, Pulp Fiction, things you might expect from someone like him

But his "Watch Again" list is all cheesy action movies and wacky comedies. Mark Wahlberg appears a little too often.

Doesn’t watch a lot of television, but sometimes likes to fall asleep to Family Guy or South Park

Has one ear piercing he got on a dare, done by either one of his brothers or one of the Outlaws

Good gift giver, but only wraps things in newspaper

Really terrible about remembering to take his medication

To the point that Dick and Tim got him one of those every day of the week pill boxes as a joke - but it's actually been incredibly helpful

Is a regular at his neighborhood corner store

To the point where the guys at the counter don’t even card him anymore

He's the type of man to sleep till noon, 1:30 on Sundays

If he's sharing a bed, he will snuggle up to you in his sleep

Snores

Unfortunately uses 3-in-1 shampoo/conditioner/body wash

Has an high tolerance for weed, which annoys the hell out of him because he enjoys a joint but does not fuck with edibles

Every time he tries an edible, he stares at himself in the mirror for three hours and Does Not like it

Drunk Yapper

Beer Drinker

Doesn't always know his own strength

Not in the accidentally-break-someone's-arm type of way, but definitely in the sometimes-closes-the-door-too-hard-and-goes-"whoopsie daises!" type of way

Thankfully, he's become a pretty great handy man

Despite being a certified Car Guy, he did die at 15 and as a consequence is lowkey still how to drive a none military grade car (in other words, he's a shit driver) (but it's okay, he sticks to the motorcycle and public transportation)

He's not a hugger, but he is a leaner

Thrifts all of his clothes

Prefers to get his books from local indie/second-hand/new & used bookstores

But still has a Barnes & Nobles membership card

His bookshelf is not organized what-so-ever; it's started to operate as more of a gun rack while his books get stacked underneath his bed (he tells himself that this will make him get through his To Be Read list faster)

His top played song of last year was “Kiss Me Through The Phone” by Soulja Boy

His music taste can be divided into three primary playlists; East Coast Rap, Metal, Ear Worms

Is the family expert on the Gotham underground music scene

He isn’t big on social media at all, but he has a Twitter with like 15 followers he uses to keep an eye on whoever

(and also to keep up with music and book updates)

He’s occasionally very funny on it. But just occasionally.

Just Online enough to know who Trisha Paytas is, not Online enough to know who ClubChalamet is

He got his GED once he joined the family again

and yes, they threw him a little party to celebrate

Has the BatChat on silent, but still checks it regularly

Terrible texter; you’ll either hear back from him immediately or in three weeks time

“srry didn’t see this”

(he did see this, he just got anxiety about it)

Has a lot of anxiety about smalls things like that

Especially when it comes to the Bat Family

He’s not always sure where he stands with everyone - if they like him, trust him, want him there

Paranoid that they’re nosy because they secretly think he’s going to go rogue again

Has to constantly remind himself that they’re just nosy the same way that he’s nosy - because this is literally a family of detectives

[thehistoriccemetery]

would love if you could do prompt 1! especially if tav is being a hard ass and trying to keep pushing themselves hehe :3

Companions with an Exhausted Tav

Three posts in one week?? I’m truly on a roll. (Nah I was sick this week so I was off work for two days.)

Anyway here’s Shadowheart, Lae’zel, Karlach, Minthara, and Jaheira with a very sleepy (and stubborn) reader.

Shadowheart

You usually go to bed quite a bit later than Shadowheart, but luckily she’s never awake to realize just how late you’re staying up.

Until one night you push your luck a little too far. By the time you climb into bed next to her she pops her head up and notices the sun is already starting to rise.

“Love, have you been up all night?” She asks. You decline to answer, and luckily she’s too sleepy to push the matter, for now. You both fall back asleep.

You’re livid when you wake up to the noon sun and find the adventuring party had already left for the day. Without you.

You find Shadowheart polishing her spear, as she decided to stay back today as well.

You approach her, but she doesn’t even look up at you. “Good afternoon sleepyhead.”

“What the hell were you thinking not waking me up this morning?” you say, clearly aggravated.

She props the spear up next to her. “I did” she says, finally looking up at you. “If you’re too tired to get up the first time I wake you, you’re too tired to go adventuring. Now go lay back down. You clearly need a nap.”

You soften, immediately realizing your mistake. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m just…”

“Tired,” she finishes for you. “I know, love. Seriously, go back to bed. You’re so grumpy when you’re tired.”

“I’m not grumpy!” You protest. She morphs her face into an over exaggerated pout, and repeats your words in a mocking tone.

You can’t help yourself, so you laugh. “Whatever. I’ll go back to bed.”

Lae’zel

You wake up in a panic as you’re being roughly dragged across the ground by your ankles.

You flail and struggle against your captors strong hand, but you can’t get loose.

“Tskva! Stop doing that!” Lae’zel shouts. It’s only then you realize who your “captor” really is.

“Lae’zel?” You ask, confused. “What are you doing? Why are you dragging me across the- ow!” You shout as you’re dragged over a rock.

“Seems this is the only way to get you to bed,” she responds, unfazed by your outburst.

She only stops dragging you once you’re in your bed. You immediately sit up and try to escape.

She catches you and pushes you back down. “Lae’zeeel,” you groan exaggeratedly. “I was doing something important.”

“If it is important than you should be able to keep your eyes open while doing it,” she retorts.

Well fuck. She has you there. You have been having trouble focusing for the last couple hours. Maybe it is best if you just go to sleep.

You’re surprised when Lae’zel crawls into your bed beside you. She doesn’t usually stay the night. “What are you doing?” You ask.

“Sleeping. Just like you should be,” she answers. You sigh, thinking of all the crafty ways you could sneak past her once she goes to sleep.

She interrupts your thoughts with a “and if you think you’re sneaking out, you’ve got another thing coming.”

Karlach

You’re passed out over a desk when Karlach gets up for a little midnight snack.

“Oh love,” she sighs. It must be four in the morning. How long have you been up?

You wake up slightly and mumble something indecipherable. You can hardly lift your head up off the desk.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” she whispers, throwing your arms over her shoulders and picking you up.

You unconsciously nuzzle her neck and let out a soft “mmm” at the familiar scent of your lover.

She lays you down on her own bed, trying to keep you upright for long enough to get you out of your armor.

She tries to be quiet, not only to disturb you as little as possible, but also to not wake up the entire camp.

When you’re finally out of your armor, she realizes she can’t find your camp clothes. Eventually, she settles on giving you one of her shirts that’s way too big for you.

You smile and mumble something that may or may not have been a “thank you.”

She finally lays your head against the pillow and you snuggle into the soft sheets and warm shirt.

She crawls cautiously into bed next to you, trying not to wake you up.

She can’t quite tell if you’re awake or not when you climb up on her chest and mumble “mmm warm.”

Minthara

The thing about Minthara is she’s not going to argue with you about taking care of yourself.

You can eat when you’re hungry, sleep when you’re tired, and piss and when you need to piss because you’re an adult and you can take care yourself.

So when she catches you burning the midnight oil for the third night in a row she’s angry. Like more angry than you’d expected.

“Hold on, Minthara,” you say, knowing she about to make you go to bed. “I just need to finish th-“

“No.” You’re interrupted abruptly. “You’re going to bed and I’m not going to catch you out here like this again.”

“Minthara, there’s things that have to done-“

“They can wait till morning,” she interrupts again, trying to stay calm even as you’re testing her patience.

“Just let me-“

“You have to take care of yourself, Tav!” She shouts, finally loosing her temper. “This isn’t an endurance test, this is your life: the one you have chosen to share with me. And I will not have you squander it out here, night after night, robbing yourself of sleep.”

You sigh, taking her hand and pulling yourself to your feet. You don’t even realize how tired you are until you’re swaying trying to keep upright.

She picks you up unexpectedly. You would have never taken Minthara for the type to carry you to bed. She’s never carried you to bed before.

Still, you accept the rare affection and wrap your legs around her waist while your arms and head rest on her shoulder.

She gently lays you down on your bed and pushes your hair off your forehead before giving it a kiss.

She really does love you, and she’s doing her best here. You just gotta take care of yourself, okay?

Jaheira

“Am I going to have to set a bedtime for you like I do the children?” She half teases, surprising you as she approaches your half asleep body.

You groan as if she just woke you from deep sleep. “I’m awake, sorry what time is it.”

Jaheira smirks and bends down so she’s close to your face. “Well past your bedtime,” she teases before giving you a short kiss.

“But I haven’t finished-“

“You’re done,” she interrupts matter of factly. Clearly this isn’t up for debate.

You groan again and mumble “fine,” reaching your arms up for her to carry you to bed.

She laughs, grabbing you by the waist and throwing you over her shoulder. If you’re going to insist on her carrying you, you’re going to deal with her doing it like this.

She’s gentle when she lays you against the bed, crawling in next to you and wrapping her arms around you.

“Wait, so if it’s so late why are you up?” You ask.

She chuckles. “Don’t worry about it,” she answers before kissing you behind the ear and falling asleep.

[dirtyassvoiceactors]

With all this discourse of c3, bell’s hells, especially after last ep118 ending etc, i would like to remind y’all or let those who don’t know or don’t look at timeline shit,

In game, since c3 started, bells hells have been together for only about 3 months in game… the last month or 20 sm days since the solstice bullshit happened(ep51),

And to give perspective, c2 lasted about 1 year in game in 141 episodes in which the first 26 episodes give or take was a whole month,

Since Dorian came back, since bells hells came back from ruidus in ep93 it has been about a week!

So i know we’ve been watching and they’ve been playing irl for 3+years as bells hells, but bells hells as a party have been running like madman and with saving the world pressure for a third of their tiny journey together up until now,

Of course they’re keep saying they are noone bunch of chuckle fucks even though mechanically lvl 15 power wise, 3 months ago they were and still are, living in the outskirts or rejected from society, the same society who now is saying don’t fuck this up to them,

And I don’t mean that they’re incapable, they are very capable, but it’s also not black and white, and the clock has been ticking and they were thrown at it at 45 of the second round(“45 do segundo tempo”) or the last second if you will

[undressrehearsal]

right back where we started

summary: ellie is on tour as the opener for a popular band. she begrudgingly passes through the hometown that she had sworn she would never see again and runs into the one good thing she left behind.

tags: some sad stuff, ellie has daddy issues, mentions of alcohol, modern au, not rockstar ellie but that same kinda genre???, no smut in this one sorry this is all setting the scene, this is another shorter one 3.6k words

a/n: listen. I'm gonna level with yall. life's been fucking insane. it's been what 3 months since I posted something?? and it's because 1. my fiancée and I are buying a house 2. and planning a wedding 3. I work 45 hour weeks (at a job I hate so much omg) 4. I'm writing a book and 5. I'm preparing for a p major surgery (I go on tuesday)

so yeah, life's been insane. but I missed writing fics. I'm writing my book so I never stopped writing but writing a lil fun fic just hits different yk?

anyway enjoy and look forward to a few (I'm thinking 3?) parts of this

love yall. reply and lmk if you wanna be added to my tag list. also I'm posting this on my phone so the formatting might be fucked lmk

part 1

Ellie couldn’t remember the last time she had been in this city.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She could remember exactly the last time she had been in this city. She had watched it disappear in her mirror when she had driven her bike west three years ago in search of the horizon. She had hoped she would find something more once she got there - more than the dingy dorm room she had loosely called home and the classes that had made her eyes glaze over; something more than playing at the bar’s open mic nights, her guitar hard to hear over the noisy din of drunk students and drunker professors; something more than a future that had been planned for her by the time she was in high school.

Her dad had kicked her out after she dropped out, of course, but that was fine. She had planned to leave that night anyway; she had kept a packed bag hidden underneath her bed for months. She hadn’t seen him in three years, either, and she planned to keep it that way.

But when she woke up and saw the city outside the bus window, silhouetted against the rising sun, something in her chest rose to her throat and refused to be swallowed back down.

She hadn’t missed it - but as she looked down at her shaking hands, Ellie figured her body must not have gotten that memo.

The band she was traveling with were still sleeping; she could hear the singer snoring in her bunk, could see the bassist's leg sticking out into the aisle. She had never been a morning bird - back at her shitbox apartment, you'd rarely catch her up before noon - but something about being stuck on a bus for days made her restless. It was her first time touring - after three years of playing at open mics and taking small jobs singing at the senior center - and she wasn't used to feeling her own bed constantly shifting beneath her.

Which is how she always ended up pacing the length of the bus, tapping her fingers against her thighs as the confined world around her slept, waiting desperately for the driver to pull off to whatever venue they had booked. She wasn't sure what the band did before their shows in the evenings, but she didn't stick around long enough to ask. Maybe it was rude, but she couldn't force herself to hang out with the band who only chose her because their usual opener had “flaked” on them - which was how they described it when the opener couldn't travel with them for several months after their mother had just died.

So, yeah, Ellie couldn’t find it in herself to feel bad about it when she rushed off the bus as soon as it parked, not even sticking around to let the band know where she was going. They wouldn't care either way. Hell, they were probably so hungover they wouldn't wake up until their show started in several hours.

The driver - his name was Zachary (never Zach) and he was the only one who paid her any mind - helped Ellie hoist her bike down from the rack on the back of the bus. The band had teased her about bringing it, bitching about how it showed she didn't want to hang out with them. She had been tempted to tell them they were right, but she couldn't really risk losing the first real gig she’d gotten. She lifted the seat and dug her helmet out, waving to Zachary as he disappeared back into the bus to get his own well-deserved rest.

The purr of the bike was a familiar comfort beneath her. Lowering the visor of her helmet to block out the sun, she squinted at the streets sprawled before her. She realized, with dizzying familiarity, that she was in the next neighborhood over from her old apartment. Hell, she had watched a few shows at the venue she was playing at - something in her stomach clenched.

Fuck, she needed coffee.

With the wind cold against her bare arms, Ellie let the world fly by, the city waking up around her. Her phone remained snuggly in her bag; she didn't need directions here, the familiar streets leading her down well-worn paths, winding all the way back to a life that was no longer hers.

It was muscle memory that led her back to the coffee shop she had frequented as a student. She looked up at it, a glow around its worn brick from the rising sun, and something tightened in her chest. They had replaced the patio chairs - the old ones had been practically falling apart three years ago - but otherwise it hadn't changed.

Ellie cursed under her breath, swallowing around the foreign lump in her throat, and climbed off her bike. When she took the steps two at a time, it felt like somebody else had taken the wheel. It was a familiar stranger that opened the door.

The smell hit her first. They say that scent has the strongest tie to memory, and the smell of burnt coffee beans hit her like a punch. There had always been a sweetness underneath it, something she had never been able to place but thought might be honey? When she stepped up to the counter, she could even smell the milk they were steaming.

The barista - a young girl with faded pink hair tied up into space buns - looked up from her phone and said, in a voice teetering on the edge between cheerful and bored, “How’s it going?”

Ellie took her in briefly, noting the brown corduroy overalls and the star-shaped nose ring, and was comforted knowing that this place was just as queer as she had left it. She would bet money on the fact that if she peeked over the counter, this girl would be wearing beat up Docs. She was young enough to be a student - probably an English major, if she had to guess.

She always ordered the same thing - iced mocha with oat milk. She had never understood why her dad drank his coffee black.

The barista - her tag said Dianna She/Her/Hers - eyed her as she rang Ellie up, brows quirked. When she smiled, dimples caved her cheeks. “I haven’t seen you around before. Are you a student?”

Ellie fought the urge to groan - this girl was just trying to be friendly (and was probably trying to decide if Ellie’s flannel meant she was gay or was just a bad fashion choice), but the last thing she wanted to do after failing to sleep on a bus and waking up at the ass-crack of dawn was to make small talk.

Still, she smiled and said, “I used to be.”

She paid and stuffed the remainder of her cash into the tip jar. When Dianna thanked her, her cheeks were as pink as her hair. Ellie could feel her eyes lingering on her as she walked away, nodding awkwardly in thanks.

This place really hadn’t changed in three years. The coffee shop had a reputation of students writing all along the walls - over a decade ago, they had simply stopped trying to paint over it, so the walls were littered in signatures and drawings and claims of call this number for a good time. Scattered poetry was written along the edges of the windows, an incredibly detailed Sharpie drawing of a cat peeking over the top of the doorway. When she searched for it, she found that her own scrawled handwriting was still there, small letters where nobody would think to look, right underneath the thermostat: Find me where the sun sets east. Don’t forget me.

She swallowed the lump that threatened to choke her and stepped away. Her eyes stung from sleep deprivation and nothing more.

Ellie scanned the room and found that, to her annoyance, nearly every table was taken. Students huddled around notebooks and laptops, engrossed in their work or else on Netflix to avoid studying. Professors blinked wearily, clutching their own cups of coffee as though they were lifelines holding them to this realm. Ellie could see the spot she had frequented herself - a booth tucked by the window, where she could write her songs in a dingy notebook without anyone looking over her shoulder.

Now, there was a guy with his cheek pressed to the cold surface, snoring lightly.

Ellie jumped when Dianna called her name, holding out a cup so filled with coffee that it trickled over the side and down the glass. Ellie took it gingerly, holding it in careful fingers to not spill any more on the countertop.

Dianna held onto the cup for several seconds longer than necessary, her fingers - cold from the glass - lingering on Ellie's. When a crooked smile pulled at her lips, her brown eyes sparkled. There was a teasing tilt to her voice when she said, “I hope to see you around, Ellie.”

Ellie gave her what she hoped was a friendly smile - judging by the way Dianna’s cheeks bloomed pink, she must have succeeded - before turning away. She almost felt guilty for the relief she felt when she found there was no phone number left on her glass this time. She was never sure whether it was nicer to ghost somebody or to send a gentle rejection through text, and she did not have the energy for that decision.

She turned, searching for an empty seat to slouch in and try not to fall asleep into her coffee, when her eyes found you.

You hadn’t changed a bit.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true either. You had changed - anybody would in three years. You had changed your hair, and now you dressed differently than she remembered - you used to bitch so much about how you couldn’t dress how you wanted, and now, looking at you three years later, she was happy to see that you were finally dressing like all those pictures you had saved in your little Pinterest folder of “outfit inspo.”

Ellie could see the mark of three whole years, but truthfully, you hadn’t changed. You were slouched over a laptop, leaning way too close to the screen, and you still had that pinch between your brows when you concentrated, the one that she used to run her thumb over; she could still feel how soft your skin was beneath her fingers.

She should have ignored you - she should have gone to slump in a corner of the coffee shop like she had planned, trying not to fall asleep into her cup and pretending to not notice you even as her eyes kept cutting across the cafe to find you again. She should have pushed the memories away just like she had pushed away all of the other memories associated with this city - hell, she should have never come back to this city in the first place. There were too many memories here that she had spent three years, a thousand miles, and an ocean of whiskey running away from.

And yet Ellie found her feet carrying her over to your table of their own volition. She walked the tightrope between who she is and who she once was, chasing a memory of the only good thing she left behind.

You didn’t look up at her as she approached. You kept your head bowed over your laptop, your bottom lip stuck between your teeth. There was no reason for you to look up - Ellie could have been any nameless stranger coming to bother you when you were clearly just trying to work.

But Ellie had never been good at leaving well enough alone. Which is why she hesitated for only a moment before reaching out and tapping lightly on your shoulder. She had to bite back a laugh when you jumped, pulling your headphones from your ears and swiveling around to look up at her.

She’d be lying if she said her heart didn’t do an embarrassing acrobatic jump when you met her eyes. And she had always been a terrible liar.

“Hey,” Ellie said, trying her damnedest to keep her voice steady; she only somewhat succeeded. She cleared her throat, lowering her voice when she said, “Remember me?”

Satisfaction bloomed warm in her stomach when your eyes widened, taking in the sight of her. Truthfully, she must’ve looked like shit; she had had to take a disturbingly brief shower at the last rest stop - the water apparently didn’t get any warmer than antarctic - and she hadn’t looked in a mirror for a few days. She had forgotten to pack her brush, so her hair must have been standing up at odd angles. And God knew what the lack of sleep was doing to the ever-growing shadows under her eyes.

But none of this stopped you from running your eyes down her body, cheeks pink when you finally looked up to meet her eyes again. And Ellie couldn’t stop the slow smile that spread across her face, her own cheeks growing warm. It wasn’t intentional when her voice dropped another octave, nearly a murmur when she said, mostly to herself, “Yeah, you remember me.”

“Holy shit, Ellie?” You jumped to your feet, a smile pulling at your lips as you gripped her arm. The familiar shine in your eyes did something funny to her stomach that she was way too stubborn to name. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I was just, uh- just passing through town,” she found herself saying, rubbing at the back of her neck. It wasn’t exactly a lie, but explaining to you the actual reason she finally came back to this hell-hole town suddenly seemed daunting. “Wanted to check out some old haunts, I guess.”

And then you just… looked at her, for several long moments - long enough to make Ellie squirm. Your eyes bore into hers, searching for something that she had buried three years ago.

You jumped, and whatever spell that was floating between you broke when your phone buzzed from where it still sat on the table. You scooped it up and flashed an apologetic smile to the glaring student a few seats away. Swiping at the screen, you cursed under your breath:

“Fuck, I have to get to class.” You looked back up at her again, a question behind your eyes, and Ellie had never wished so hard that she could read minds. You hesitated for only a moment before saying, words rushed, “Do you want to walk with me?” Before Ellie could respond, you continued, picking up your cup and fiddling with the straw, “It feels like forever since I’ve seen you and I want to catch up. But you’re probably busy, so you don’t have to-”

“I’d love to,” she cut you off, trying to smother the smile that pulled at her pink cheeks. She failed drastically when you smiled back at her.

After asking for a to-go cup from Dianna - thankfully no number written on the plastic cup either, despite the way the barista eyed Ellie as she left - she followed you out the door and back into the blinding morning sun. The mid-October air bit at her cheeks, creeping under her flannel; the cold coffee in her hand made her fingers sting, but you were already walking away, so she grit her teeth and followed.

And it was like you both just fell back into place, aligning with each other as though that empty space had never existed. You were working towards your graduate degree, Ellie discovered, and were working as a TA to get through; the class you were heading to was the dreaded public speaking class that you taught around your own curriculum. You laughed as you talked about some ridiculous speech a student had recently presented, and Ellie had forgotten just how much she liked the sound until it was burying behind her ribs again.

Ellie didn't tell you exactly why she had come back. When she’d left, you had known she was chasing a dream - it was the main reason she had presented when she broke up with you. The idea of long distance was too hard - too complicated - and Ellie didn’t want anything tying her to this town.

Even so, her body still wanted to fall into old habits. She told you about her roommate and how, when Ellie had been up too late writing a new song or her roommate had had a late shift at the hospital, they would play truth or dare until they were too drunk to stay awake, and her fingers brushed against yours, muscle memory making her reach for you. Ellie told you how she had visited her sister, Sarah, while passing through Houston, and she wanted so badly to lace your fingers together. She wanted to wrap her arm around your waist - hell, she even wanted to grab your ass right where everyone could see, just like she used to. She tucked her free hand in her pocket.

“You still haven’t told me why you came back,” you said, coming to a stop in front of the Communications building - it was just as tall and ominous as Ellie remembered. Her stomach lurched at the site, remembering all the speeches she had to make in her own classes. She supposed Public Speaking wasn’t a useless class now, considering she didn't stutter when she had to speak in front of an audience now.

Ellie shrugged, dropping her cup into a trashcan without looking at you. “Like I said, I’m just passing through-”

“Bullshit,” you said, but there was no malice behind it. You tilted your head to meet her eyes and smiled at her, even as your eyes held something unreadable. “The Ellie I knew couldn’t wait to get out of this shithole - her words, not mine. She wouldn’t simply pass through - she would go out of her way to stay in the next town over. So,” you crossed your arms, “what changed?”

Before, if you had ever crossed your arms at her, Ellie would reach out and gently pull your arms away from your chest, pulling you into an embrace. She wanted nothing more than to pull you into her, instinct unaware of the three years and a thousand miles that had separated you. Instead, she leaned against the wall of the building, the brick biting into her back. “Nothing’s changed. Trust me, if it was up to me, I wouldn't be here.”

For only a second, your face twisted into something unreadable that pulled at Ellie's stomach. But you quickly schooled your expression, tilting your head, your smile soft. “Listen, I have to go - if I'm too late, these fuckers are just gonna try to skip. But we should meet up later - I want to catch up.” When Ellie opened her mouth to say you had been catching up, you continued, “Really catch up. I want you to tell me everything - it's been years, so we have a lot to cover.” You looked at your phone and cursed. “Look, my last class ends at 3:25. Meet me on the green after?” For good measure, you stuck out your bottom lip and added, “Please?”

Ellie had never been good at resisting that look - she had given into you so many times from that look alone. She had to bite back the sudden, stupid smile pulling at her cheeks, so she pressed her lips together and looked away. After three years, you still made her cheeks flush without trying.

“Okay,” was all she could say.

Without warning, you rushed forward, wrapping your arms around her neck briefly. Her hands hovered at your sides, unsure of where to go. Feeling your body pressed against her again - feeling the warm brush of your breath against her neck - short-circuited her brain, leaving her gasping on dry land.

Before she could figure out where to put her fucking hands, you murmured in her ear, “I really did miss you, Els,” and pulled away, just as quickly as you had come. Ellie's mouth hadn't even caught up to her brain by the time you were gone, the door closing softly behind you.

Later, after she had had a proper breakfast from McDonald's, she was still thinking about you. Seeing you again had opened up a bottle that she had sealed away, and the cork wouldn't fit back into it. Her fingers itched with the memory of your skin beneath them. When you had hugged her, she had smelled the shampoo that you apparently still used, and she remembered how it had felt to have your head on her chest, breathing you in as she pressed a kiss to the top of your head. And your lips next to her ear - that opened a whole subcategory of memories that she tried desperately to push away.

She was only here for the night. She lost count of how many times she had to remind herself.

Ellie was stopped at a red light, leaning her bike from one foot to the other, when she felt her phone buzz in her pocket. She glanced at the blinking crosswalk sign - twenty seconds, so she still had plenty of time before the light turned green - before fishing her phone out. She had to squint against the sun, straining to make out the screen. She nearly dropped the phone when she saw the familiar name popping up on her screen, fumbling to open the text.

There was a screenshot of an Instagram post from the venue she was going to play at. The band's name was in bold letters, stars pasted around a grainy picture of the group. And in small letters underneath - like an afterthought - was her name: Ellie Miller.

And underneath, in all caps:

YOU'RE PLAYING AT THE HAWTHORNE?????

Her face flushed all over again. After all these years, you had still kept her number.

tag list: @macaroni676 @ellstronaut @elliewilliamsmiller0 @elliescoolerwife @letsreadsomesins-shallwe @liliflowers-blog @filtered-sunlight

[yourlildolliewriter]

buzzing bees:

7:30 am. That's when you needed to be at work. It was currently 6:40 am, you simply basked in the sun's rising glow. The same rising glow that you were met with every day. (E/c) eyes met the sun's rosy pink settle. After a while you left your kitchen and walked out to your car. You then sighed, started the car and began driving to work. Work was especially hard especially since you'd have to see Zeno. Not that it was hard for you to physically go to work but fucking hell your boss literally looked like some sort of magically handsome bodyguard from those sickening, but sweet romance novels you read. With a sigh you parked. Walking inside, waving and greeting your coworkers like usual before arriving to your desk, you placed your stuff down and began working. Working like you've probably won't do again, you sat there for a good while before eventually zeno walked in. Being flooded with meetings he was physically and botheringly stressed. That you could tell. Especially since you two were together since your 8th month at the office.

It was now noon when he called you into his office. "(M/n);" zeno murmured, voice full of need and lust. "How can such a beautiful thing like you work here... An office filled of sluggers and dirt... And don't you dare say because of me." you gasped while zeno chuckled, he loved teasing you with his words before you two made out. He then sighed and with a boring old groan pulled you on his lap when you were close enough to him. Rolling his cloth, hardened manhood against your soft mounds of flesh. You simply whimpered as he did that. "gonna make you moan my name so loudly that we'll get caught... You like that huh? Getting caught fucking your boss?" zeno whispered against your skin, his hands playfully teasing you under your shirt. God he's never been so turned on before. You on the other hand simply let out tiny whimpers, moans and even gasps, trying not to alert your colleagues over. He hated sharing you with others with a burning passion. You were his and his alone. He's fucked you dumb on his office chair and send you off. But today, today was different... He'd make out with you before placing you on the desk. Working his way with your shirt's buttons. As soon as he got your buttons off he held you up and removed your shirt, sucking and kissing your chest while you writhed under him. His hands slid up from your thigh and to your nipples. Squeezing the bud gently between his fingers. He then wasted no time dragging his hands down to your pants. Feverishly taking it off. "Look at you... All pretty on display for me... All for me baby huh..." zeno whispered against you. Tugging down on the hem of your boxers, pulling it down after a few short ones. "Zeno not here! Someone could enter and see us!" you gasped. Desperately not trying to get caught with your boss. Zeno didn't care. He sighed, reached over to his desk drawer and pulled out a bottle of lube and got to work on your hole.

You didn't know how long it had been, round after round, orgasm after orgasm, zeno didn't release once. Like... At all! Not fair! His green colored eyes met your (e/c) his cock kissing your prostate with each heavy thrust he brought to you. Your (s/c) hands mingled in his black hair. You didn't even see the clock. 2:30. His next meeting which he was required to bring one person from his office to it with him. He was bringing you. You were about to moan when his phone rang. His hand shooting up to your mouth.

"Hello?" zeno simply said into the phone. "Ah, sorry. (M/n) and I can't make it." zeno chuckled softly "no no no everything's fine, it just (m/n) is sick and he asked me to watch him" zeno once again chuckled,his dick slamming into your prostate over and over again. You had to bite back at least another set of moans, All that were building up. "Yes yes I'll let you know when hes better. We'll reschedule to the 20th of October. Goodbye now." and with that, zeno hung up, looking down at your (e/c) eyes and your (s/c) skin marked up by him. Zeno, your boss... Your boyfriend. He eventually came after a while. Your last and final orgasm, for now, chased after his.

After he cleaned you off zeno gave you after care, letting you stay in his office until you were all better to work, and after work he'd take you home and pound you senseless all over again! This time letting you moan his name, trace his tattoos, run your hands through his hair and pulling him into a sloppy make out. All for you! He even let you have the week off for your Wobbleness. He didn't want to show you to your coworkers like that. Not at all. He hated the idea of them seeing what's his. Of them seeing you.

[izvmimi]

cw: canon-typical violence. reader is female and not japanese. mention of an arranged marriage.

On a day like today, where no amount of electrolyte-dense water can fix the headache pounding in Shin’s temples, braving the heart of Tokyo’s city center might as well be a Herculean task.

This could be overstimulating for anyone in his predicament of course, but with Shin’s added gift of telepathy, it might as well be hell. The background noise of thoughts meshed from throngs of people are particularly loud today, and he concentrates on silencing them further. This helps briefly - the commotion turns into a slight hum as if he’s turned on noise canceling headphones, and he’s about to turn on his actual earbuds to drown out chatter until he passes by a cafe…

… and picks up abruptly on one of the loudest thoughts he’s ever heard in his entire life.

This is sooooooo fucking annoying, I can’t believe I have to do this.

The complaint is so loud and clear, he almost wonders if someone is yelling directly at him, like a missive from the heavens itself. And the sound keeps going, a flurry of words of annoyance and defeat. He doesn’t understand what the voice is talking about, and turning around quickly, he sees no one looking in his direction, and the people that walk past him paying no mind to him seem engrossed enough in their conversations that they could not possibly have been the source of the whining. 

To his right, there’s a rather upscale French-style cafe with outside seating, and patrons are seated in singles, doubles and triples. When he undulls his senses, there are a million conversations again that come back flooding into his stream of consciousness - a bunch of girls who are both agreeing that the third one in the group is dreadfully annoying, one man worrying about the eventual bill based on his date’s wanton ordering, and a waitress who is counting down the shift by the seconds even though it’s only half past noon.

Shin doesn’t realize he’s standing still, staring directly at another human being, until he makes eye contact with the source of the thought.

You.

Shit, did I say that out loud?

You’re wide-eyed, and looking straight at him, as if you’re reading his thoughts instead of him reading yours. A young woman, who looks about his age or slightly younger, but dressed somewhat formally for the occasion, in what looks like a skirt suit, tailored. Expensive earrings, and the type of hairstyle fits the word ‘elegant’ but not elderly. Non-Japanese, he thinks, then berates himself for making an assumption about your background. A face that doesn’t match the hostility of your thoughts, he thinks, pretty he’d go so far as to say. 

Then he realizes he’s also staring and almost raises his hands to reassure you that he didn’t hear you before remembering that such a move is even more incriminating. Embarrassed, he makes a 180 quickly, raising his hood over his head and shoving his hands in his pockets.

Close one, he thinks to himself, but then your voice comes directly to him again.

Oh man, I must have looked so hostile that I worried him, he hears you think again, but then you go so far as to apologize to him in your head, muttering something about having to try to find the bright side of things. 

Shin has to admit he’s curious. Who are you? Who are you waiting for? There isn’t a chance you’re clairvoyant as well, is there?

Slipping just slightly out of view, he stays close to the wall. He has to admit that he considers that this might be a creepy misuse of his powers, but it’s rare, and when you’re thinking that loudly, he can’t exactly force you out of his mind, can he?

I just have to smile and nod. Just a few minutes of smiling and nodding and maybe I’ll say one or two things that will make it clear that I’m not worth marrying and then I can go back to my life. 

So, it’s a date, Shin concludes. None of his business, although he’s surprised people still consider arranged marriages these days. He wonders briefly if perhaps you are a bit more of a high profile person despite how… unrefined your internal monologue is, then takes another step to continue towards his destination, but your internal voice starts up again.

But if their family is only sending a mediator, why should I be here in the flesh all alone? How can Uncle not realize this is stupid? Unsafe even?

Shin has to agree with this himself. If not just nervous that he was staring directly at you like some kind of psycho, you seemed a bit distressed in general. The same curiosity that keeps him in close proximity, eavesdropping like a nosy neighbor despite the fact that he should probably return to the store soon, keeps him wondering more.

Where do you come from? What’s your name?

I want to go home so bad…

This last thought of yours is laden with less complaint but more sorrow, enough that he actually feels it start to form, a heavy sinking feeling, in the pit of his stomach. 

This is not good.

Shin finally decides that he has to leave before he ends up getting involved in unexpected trouble, and that’s when he senses it.

A second, much more cruel voice.

—

Everything seems to happen in a blur for you. One minute, you’re looking down at your phone, trying to decide if leaving after fifteen minutes of a no-show is permissible even when it has to do with supposed marriage prospects, and brainstorming ways to dissipate your poor uncle and guardian’s anger, the next you’ve been practically tackled out of your seat by a stranger in a hoodie, who hovers on top of view, while onlookers scream. 

“Keep your head down!”

Bullets are louder in real life than in the movies, it seems, you think, dazed. Glass around you shatters, blood splatters, and bodies hit the ground. You’re not sure where the shots are coming from, just that they seem to be hitting everyone and everything in that godforsaken cafe but you, and you’re being carried off, somewhere, you’re not sure.

It’s the same man who gave you a weird look earlier, the one who’d been privy to your natural resting bitch face, who seems to be running at full speed now, you in tow, tucked in his arms. In what direction, you don’t know, just that he’s saved you. 

He’s fast on your feet, and you’re secure against him, but your head spins.

What’s going on? You think; your lips open but your brain is too unfocused to remember how to move them.

“I’ll explain later!”

You can’t see his face as he speaks, but the young man’s voice is loud enough to show concern yet calm enough that somehow, implicitly, you trust him.

You haven’t even said anything yet, but you nod and the sheer rush of adrenaline, combined with jet lag from many hours not yet recovered from your flight, have you drift out of consciousness.

...

You wake up hours later in what seems to be the back of a convenience store. You don't know it yet, but it will be the safest place you'll ever know.

[yourlocalsmutwriter]

Two birthdays and a new girl to call sis - Stepbro! Nate Jacobs x reader

tw : stepcest, cnc, creampie

It all started after Nate's dad moved out. Well, a bit after that to be precise, when Cal Jacobs finally found Derek. From then it was all sunshine and roses for the couple. But for the presumably youngest siblings in the respective families, it was a catalyst that would turn their entire lives around. They just didn't know it yet.

Nate thought that he would mind his dad leaving and putting the already rocky family dynamic of the Jacobs clan in shambles. But it was the opposite of that. His mom eventually cleaned the lobby and stopped drinking wine before noon. His brother made appearances and not just at the annual Chili booth. And most importantly of all, his dad was out of the picture, most days. With Cal gone, Nate's nightmares stopped. He stopped watching the CDs obsessively, stopped playing football as if his life depended on it, hell he even stopped tormenting both Maddy and Cassie. Now the only thing underneath his arm in the hallways was a stack of SAT preps and college applications. And that was all about to change at the drop of a hat when his dad came to stay with them for a couple of weeks. Bringing his boyfriend and Nate's new stepsister in tow. And she was a new challenge for Nate, something for him to bend and break and corrupt. She was a plate of cookies under a cellophane wrap with a note that said ''Don't touch''. And he was craving sugar more than ever. And he intended to get it, in any way he had to.

Your life had been perfect. And then it crumbled completely. It happened gradually as these things often do. Innocently enough you urged your brilliant, yet lazy brother to actually apply himself and go to a good college, instead of relying on a safety school just because he could stay home. And he did, leading him to get accepted into his dream school, which was, unfortunately, all the way in New York. Sure, he moved to college and left you with your dad. And he, in turn, was going through a midlife crisis and an empty nest syndrome all at once. It was clear from the moment Derek broke down crying as his son was packing still and couldn't stop reminiscing about family all through your trip to the school. So in order to bring back old habits he had turned to have his first drink since you were born and all in a familiar spot. And that's how he met Cal fucking Jacobs. In the same bar, they had shared their first dance together, it all came back rushing at them. And that's how you got a new stepdad. And subsequently, courtesy of the lovely motel, bedbugs. 

It's not like your dad rushed headfirst into this. It accumulated over time, just like the aforementioned vermin. Cal and he went on dates, and after a few relatively expensive meals on his side and ''your dad kept yours and your brother's birthdays as a password for everything and you were not above snooping'' on yours, you got introduced to the man. After a few more weeks of awkward ''family'' outings, Cal moved in. You made so many jokes about Uhauling that your dad almost shipped you off in one to the dorms in New York. All humor, aside you were finally happy that Derek had found the right partner after so many years. And then came the bedbugs. Awful bites that left you itching for weeks and restless. It got so bad that you couldn't sleep at night, instead you tasked yourself with hunting them down and squishing them, watching the blood linger on your dainty fingers. When Cal saw you one night stripping your bedding away and bringing it to the patio, he knew that this was his fault and that it had to stop. So he did what he had to do to stop this. He offered for you and your dad to go live with him in the Jacobs family home.

Nate simply came back from school and was greeted by 2 unfamiliar faces and one that was too familiar.

''Cal, I mean dad, what are you doing here? And who are these people.'' He vaguely gestured between the aging man and the girl that was around his age.  

"Well, this is my boyfriend and his daughter. I just started living with them.’’

  Nate took in the suitcases behind them. No way. He started asking

"So, what, you're just gonna waltz back into our lives out of nowhere with two strangers in toll. How is my mom on board with this?''

''You know your mother. She likes watching me suffer. I secretly think she got me here to see how long I can stay without cracking. Also, she can't say no to a couple of hundreds.'' Cal said smugly.

''Wonderful, you're calling the woman who birthed me and cared for me while you were gone a greedy sadist.'' Nate countered back.

''Son, let's not get into it. We have company after all.'' Cal tried to smooth things over but to no avail. 

''Oh, I forgot. You have a new family now. I wouldn't wanna scare off your perfect boyfriend and his daughter. How ironic that you now have a girl, when you can't even raise one of your sons to be a proper man. And I don't fucking mean a guy that can bench press 250, I mean a guy who doesn't hurt other people. You had to leave for me to realize how fucked up you made me, how toxic this dick-measuring contest that we were having was. I thought it ended for good, but look at me, I'm back exactly where I was the day when you walked out the door. Just like you wanted. Well, I'm not giving you the satisfaction of seeing me lose it again. See you around I guess, I'm sure I've made a great first impression.'' With that, Nate walked away and slammed the door to his room shut. Soon enough though there was a gentle knock on it. 

''Cal, get the fuck away from there,'' Nate yelled. 

''It's not Cal. It's me. I didn't introduce myself earlier, I thought that it would be nice to have someone in your corner.'' You answered. Still, on edge, he said,

''What, are you doing this because you’re feeling guilty or something? I'm usually not like that, I should be the one coming to you to apologize, but my dad, he has a certain effect on people.''

''Oh, trust me, I know. He's so grating, sometimes I just can't stand him. And everyone sees that except of course my dad. Do you have any tips and tricks for me to tune him out or something?'' You replied.

''Unfortunately, there isn't a way. But I recommend avoidance. Here, sit and talk with me a little. That way, we both won't run into him.''

''Are suggesting we work together, would you like to form an alliance with me.''

''Absolutely I do.''

''Okay, I trust any man that finishes my ''The Office'' quotes, I'm in. So, let's get to know each other. Is playing 21 questions too childish?'' 

''It is but I'll let it slide if you let me ask you first.''

''You have a deal.''

''Why did you move in here and not stay anywhere else?''

''You mean besides the fact that the bed bugs that are infesting our home right now are literally from the only motel in town. Well, also I'm homeschooled and need a place for my dad and my tutor to work with me in peace, can't imagine this to be a single room. So from time to time, I will also be invading your living room.'' a part of Nate wanted to make a reference to Mean Girls. But he just let you talk.

''How does college prep feel like,'' you asked

''Really, that's your most burning question for a guy who had a screaming match with his own dad 10 minutes ago.''

''Hey, I like to give people a second chance. So hit me with it.''

''Well, I do good enough to land a few sports scholarships, so it's not as intense. But when I'm not relying on those it gets heavy. I can give you tips, also let me know which brochures you want so I get them from the counselor's office for you.'' Nate went on. 

''Thanks. Your turn.''

''Are you an only child? I mean, there's not gonna be more unexpected quests, right I don't think my house can handle it.''

''I do have an older brother, but he's not set on coming back anytime soon. So I might be a homeschooled jungle freak, but at least I'm not a spoiled brat.''

Spoiled brat. Nate could make you that, a girl that's desperate and begging for him to stick his cock inside her, even just the tip, anything. As soon as he allowed himself to imagine that, he had to stop. It had been a while since he got laid or watched any porn, so of course, a thought like that was expected. Sensing that it got the better of him, he tried to continue the game.

''Sorry, I spaced out. I'm back now, so ask away.''

''Am I missing out on not going to school like a normal person?''

''If you like kegstands and one-night stands, sure. Other than that, not much. I'm sure you're just as smart as anyone in my class, if not smarter.'' Nate said, clearly playing to what you wanted to hear. But then, surprising even himself he asked

''Do you think this thing between our dads will work out.''

''I mean this isn't like that one gay video game where all the dads in town date each other just because they're dads. Those two really have loved each other since high school. My father used to talk about Cal all the time, the one that got away. So don't be surprised if you have me as a stepsister these days. Even if that doesn’t necessarily align with what we actually want.'' 

While a stepsister had not been on Nate's bingo card for the year, it sure was now. Through you, he would achieve the perfect revenge on his dad. Because if Cal could ruin Nate and his family, Nate could do the same to Cal. It might have been cruel to take an innocent girl as collateral damage in his plan, but you know what they say, by any means necessary. He would have to get that fucked up movie he watched on demand with Maddie, Cruel Intentions, but the plot to that didn't really fit this situation. They were more like Clueless. At least that's what he thought until a string of unexpected events proved him wrong. But that would be getting ahead of the story and we cannot rush the plot here.

''Okay, I think that this day has been a little much for me, so I'll just head to your living room and get some sleep.''

You yawned and said

''If you want, you could use my room for tonight, or always. I don't mind taking the couch.''

''Thank you, but I'll feel super bad. Plus I'm staying only for a few days.''

If only you knew how wrong you were. You did find that out at a ''family'' dinner. Through some twisted turn of fate, everyone in the house could eat together and they did. Nate's mom and brother were sitting on one side, followed by him, you, your dad, and finally Cal. Then at the end of the dinner, everyone was enjoying dessert when the former Jacobs family patriarch stood up and tapped his knife against his long empty wine glass.

''Everyone, I have an announcement. We're getting engaged.''

''You're getting what. But you barely know each other.'' you protested. You also absentmindedly gripped Nate's arm for support. He, in turn, took that as an invitation to squeeze your thing, his fingers lingering on your skin a little longer than appropriate.

''We've known each other since high school, It may seem a little rushed to you, but to us, it has been long overdue.'' Your dad interjected in a stern tone.

''Well, Cal, it seems like you have a pattern. At least I'll just be a guest at this shotgun wedding '' Nate's mom replied.

''How did you even decide that? This changes everything, you're not just playing house anymore, you're introducing complete strangers into our families. '' Nate added.

''Yes, isn't this exciting? Also, you can't call yourselves strangers, we're already living together and eating together. In fact, just look at this table. We are all sitting here as if this is our thousandth meal together. It inspires me to have nights like this for the rest of my life.''  Cal said

''Yeah, what a night indeed. I think we should all sit and process this information in our own way.'' Nate replied and demonstratively left the table. Surprisingly, you followed him out.

Nate helped you into his car and drove to the store, where you got ice cream and he got beer and you both ended up sharing them in the backseat. When you snuggled into him, tipsy and tired, he wanted to leave everything and just devour you in the back of the jeep. But Nate wanted you to be fully into him when he had you, to be aware and feeling every single inch of him. So he resisted and just drove to the house, where he carried you to the couch and tucked you in.

Nate has planned to ignore you, for the time being, to make you come to him. After all, that's what worked with Cassie, leave them cold and they will be begging for you. Not that he expected you to send him continuous texts like the blonde, but anything was a start. And it seemed to be working. You'd ask to go somewhere with him, forgoing your usual bus route, trying to get him to drive you. Or you would fake being a family with a proposal for movie night. And as much as he wanted to spend a couple of hours in front of the TV watching you laugh at a cheesy movie, he refused. He used late-night practices and early morning classes as an excuse. He even considered faking a date but realized that it would do more harm than good.

So he was beyond surprised to see you dolled up on the couch with a much older guy. You were studying, by the looks of it, textbooks and highlighters all over his mom's expensive leather sofa. But you, you seemed to treat this as more of a date, twirling a pencil in your pigtails, how predictable of you, and asking the man to repeat basic concepts that you already knew. But Nate could not control you, as much as he wanted to. He decided to not embarrass you, by asking if you had just bought your pink gloss or if your dad was aware of how short your skirt was. He just said.

''Hey, sis. Working hard as usual. Let me know when you're done, we can work on dinner together, make it a little easier on the old folks when they come home, how about that.''

And you just barely registered him, responding back with a hmm and still not taking your eyes off of the older man. Oh, Nate was going to get you back for this later. If you even remembered to come to him, that is.

But you did, like an obedient puppy. He first looked you up to see any signs of ruined lipgloss or a rumple in your shirt. When he found none, he relaxed and headed to the kitchen.

''So, who was that?'' Nate said, trying to keep his voice steady.

''Oh, that's my private tutor. Daddy hired him, cause well I'm kinda shit at math and it runs in the family. So I'm getting all the help I can get.'' Daddy, you said fucking daddy. He swore that you were giving him kinks that he thought were disgusting before. Two could play the teasing game. And Nate was about to up the heat, literally. As soon as you looked away, he turned the oven up and asked you to take out the food. Watching you touch the hot metal of the door and wince, he replied.

''The oven mitts are always missing when you need them. Here, I'll help you out.'' 

Nate took off his shirt and watched as you admired his toned body. Bet your tutor did not have this. He wrapped the shirt over the handle and opened the oven door, letting the dish cool down. But his temper still hadn’t. So he asked,

''And what's the deal with that your tutor? You acted a little different than usual around him. Do you have a crush on him or something?''

''Is it that obvious, god? But yeah I do. ''

''Isn't that kind of, you know ... '' sick is the word he wanted to use.                    ''Unconventional, yes. But I do love a taboo romance. In theory, I haven't had any. So don't go snitching to my dad.'' you replied

‘’Sure, for a price, the best way to get silence is to buy it.’’

‘’I have 5 bucks to my name, take it or leave it.’’

‘’You think I’m that cheap.’’ After that, he grabbed a wooden spoon and smacked your ass with it. To his surprise, instead of scolding him or cursing you let out a moan. Turning red you made an excuse and then scrambled out of the room quickly.  Meanwhile, Nate added this interaction to his spank bank which was now becoming a literal spank bank.

Despite all the moments charged with sexual tension between the two of you, Nate seemed to keep his morals intact. Or at least keep up this cat-and-mouse game for a little longer. But then that night came (spoiler alert it wouldn’t be the only thing coming). Nate had woken up in the middle of the night, very thirsty. While he was salty that you were into another man, he also made your food salty. He made his way down the stairs, watching his footsteps in order to not wake you. But judging by the sounds he was hearing you were not asleep. He just saw movement under the couch blanket and then he was seeing red. Nate dramatically tossed the blanket from you, eager to beat up the person who was defiling his sister. Instead, he saw your shocked face, your phone on your chest and your hands were desperately clutching something small that was vibrating. At least you were alone. That still didn't calm his anger enough, because you were still getting pleasure from something that wasn’t him. 

‘’Nate don’t look’’ you said, before feeling a hand go over your mouth. And despite your stepbrother actually not looking before, he did now. Your face was red and your pupils were wide. Your nipples were hard and visible through your shirt. Your shorts were pulled down, with your panties to the side, revealing your slick cunt. Nate cupped your wetness and for a minute he contemplated starting to fuck you right then and there. But one look at your concerned face was enough to stop him right in his tracks. If he was gonna do this, at least you had to enjoy it. So he pulled your arms closer to himself instead and squeezed them a bit too hard, causing you to drop whatever you were holding. First, he reached for your phone to check if you were on call with someone. What he saw was more surprising. You were listening to an audiobook about a steamy romance between a girl and her stepbrother. Your own stepbrother took pleasure in leaning down to where you were and whispering the synopsis in your ear in a low voice. He could practically feel your heartbeat against him and he knew that you were feeling his hardon. Then he retreated back and grabbed the second item you had been holding. It was a necklace that he had seen you wearing a couple of times, the long shape of the pendant always perplexing him. And all this time it had been a vibrator. This just got a lot more interesting

‘’Promise to be quiet and I won’t snitch on you,’’ Nate said and retreated his hand from your mouth. But as soon as you began explaining he pressed the vibrator right against your clit.

‘’Naaaateee’’ you moaned unexpectedly and just let him do it, chasing your pleasure. After all, there was nothing wrong with him simply holding your sex toy against you. It was taboo at best. As long as that was all your stepbrother did it would be fine. But of course Nate had other plans. He put two fingers inside of you, fuck you were so tight and clenching around him. For a second he didn’t move them because you were so tense, so he focused the vibe on your clit until you opened up for him. 

‘’Please, be gentle. It’s too much.’’. He slowed down his pace, almost pulling them out of you entirely.

‘’Should I stop then,’’ he asks as he’s barely touching you. You just shake your head, too shy to actually say it. 

‘’Keep going, I just wanna cum, make me.’’ you clench against him, and thrust, fucking yourself on his fingers. He trails the vibrator against your opening, coating it in your juices and then brings it back to its place. He then speeds up his fingers inside of you, thrusting in and out and curling them up. After a couple minutes you cum.

You’re so dazed that you just close your eyes and pant. For a few minutes you don’t feel anything but pleasure. And then you realize he’s teasing your opening with the tip of his penis. Your tongue feels thick in your mouth,and you’re about to protest when he kisses you and thrusts inside of you.

You thrashed around like a woman possessed hushedly whispering ‘’no’’ and ‘’stop’’.

He pressed his body against you and thrusts again, chasing his pleasure.

‘’Nate, it hurts, this is my first time.’’ you say. You still haven’t gotten used to his size or his tempo. So he stops for a moment and moves slowly, filling you out completely. Then pulling it out almost to the end. He does this a couple more times, until you say ‘’okay, give me more.’’. Apparently that’s all you need to say for him to go absolutely feral. He spreads your legs further and lifts them by your head. Then he moves in the space in between them and starts shallowly thrusting. You cum and he doesn't stop. He comes and he doesn’t stop. You feel his seed inside you, hot and sticky as he thrusts a couple more times. He then rolls down to the floor for a few minutes. Once he’s regained his breath he takes you in his arms in a bridal carry and gets you up the stairs to his room, his cum dripping down your legs. So much for family bonding

[thehereticdiaries]

Into the Wonderland: Chapter Six

Summary: You go with Yunho and San to give your statement to the police. Seonghwa has a chat with Hongjoong about his odd behavior. You and the pack alpha have an emotional discussion.

Warnings: Cops, talking about mental illnesses, idk man

A/N: Finally, the last bit of plot before y/n gets railed six ways to Sunday. Fr, I have the next four chapters planned entirely as smut.

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You didn’t wake up until almost noon the next day, although Seonghwa expected you to sleep longer. The pounding throb in your head dulled down to a faint ache overnight. Slowly, you opened your eyes to scan the room. You hardly remembered getting back to the dorms last night and were a little surprised to see the whole pack lounging in a massive nest in the living room.

“Hey, look who’s awake.” Yeosang was the first to notice you. Seonghwa immediately swooped in, gingerly brushing your hair out of your face.

“How’re you feeling?” The eldest omega asked, forehead creasing in concern.

“Not horrible, all things considered. My head’s a little achy and I’m still tired, somehow,” you noted while rubbing your eye with your knuckle.

“That’s not surprising. You went through a lot,” Jongho noted without looking up from his laptop. 

“And unfortunately, you’re not gonna be able to rest much today,” Seonghwa sighed. “The police called earlier this morning. They need you to go to the station to give your statement.”

“She doesn’t need to do that today,” Hongjoong argued. You hadn’t even noticed him with how silent he’d been. Your back rested against his chest and his arms wrapped tightly around your waist.

“Yes, she does. The officer on the phone said that they need to do it as soon as possible, while it’s still fresh in her mind,” Seonghwa reasoned somewhat uselessly. You felt Hongjoong tense behind you.

“Seonghwa–”

“It’s okay,” you interrupted the pack alpha. There was a strange feeling of animosity between the two and it was making you nervous. “Honestly, I’d rather get it done and over with.”

“Good, San and Yunho can take you after you get dressed.” Seonghwa shot an icy glare at Hongjoong, who you could only assume was about to protest. “We need to call the doctor. As the pack alpha and the eldest, we need to make sure we fully understand your care instructions.”

“Fine,” Hongjoong agreed through gritted teeth. Yeosang and Wooyoung led you to the omega’s room to help you get ready, despite your protests that you could do it yourself. The rest of the pack sat in a thick silence, unsure of how to address the tension brewing between the two eldest members. After a few minutes, you emerged with Wooyoung doing his best to talk slowly so your concussed brain could keep up.

“You need to eat before you go,” Seonghwa fretted from his spot in the nest. 

“I was actually gonna get her something from Driftwood Cafe,” San said while kneeling down to slip your shoes on your feet. You perked up, thinking about the cafe’s raspberry and white chocolate croissants. 

“Okay, but no caffeine.”

“Yes, mom. I’ll text you when we’re done.” Yunho corralled you and San out the door. Once it closed behind the three of you, Seonghwa pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

“We need to talk,” the omega stated, looking pointedly at Hongjoong. The remaining pack members warily stared at the pair as they disappeared into their room. 

“Alright. Spill it.” Seonghwa crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows expectantly.

“Spill what?” Hongjoong borderline growled.

“Seriously?” The elder scoffed with a roll of his eyes. “You’ve been pissed at me and cold to everyone besides Y/N since we got back from the hospital. Hell, you’ve barely even let her out of your arms.”

“I’ve been pissed at you for longer than that,” Hongjoong started. He struggled to keep his temper under control. A vein pulsed in his neck with the effort. “There wouldn’t have been a hospital visit if you had fucking listened to me!”

“That’s what this is about?! You’re mad at me because I decided to trust Y/N?”

“I’m mad because I knew something was wrong and you kept me from checking on her.” Hongjoong paced the room, fists curling at his sides. 

“Oh, I kept you from checking on her?” Seonghwa asked sarcastically. “Get a hold of yourself. What if you stormed into a restricted area of the building and there wasn’t an issue?”

“Maybe I’d be embarrassed, but she wouldn’t have been injured.”

“You didn’t know what was going on! You were going off paranoia, how could you possibly–”

“I should have been there for her!” Hongjoong shouted. The others could probably hear him from the living room, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. “I should have protected her! Seonghwa, I let my omega get hurt. I am furious with myself because I fucking failed as her alpha!”

“Hongjoong…” Seonghwa’s face and voice softened at his admission.

“God, I never should have left her alone with that bastard still on campus, especially with her heat so close.” His thoughts spiraled into a loop of regret and self-deprecation. He gripped his hair at the roots, knuckles turning white but too angry to feel the pain.

“Hongjoong.” Seonghwa stopped the alpha’s pacing with a hand on his shoulder. Wild eyes met a calm and steady gaze while the omega’s earthy scent of cashmere washed over the room. 

“You need to listen to me when I say this.” Seonghwa gently removed Hongjoong’s hands from his hair, his thumbs running along his knuckles. “You didn’t let her get hurt.”

“Seong–”

“No, let me finish. This was not your fault. Marcus is the only one to blame,” Seonghwa clenched his jaw and looked down. “There’s no way you could have known this would happen.”

“So why am I feeling so guilty?” 

“I’m not totally sure. I can only assume it’s from your instincts,” Seonghwa shrugged. It wasn’t the answer Hongjoong wanted to hear. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess so.”

“Hongjoong, you haven’t failed as an alpha. Our pack would be lost without you.” Seonghwa insisted, squeezing the younger man’s hands. “I was trying to ignore it, but I’ve been feeling guilty, too.”

“If I’m not at fault then neither are you.”

“I know. But I also know that you have the strongest and most accurate instincts out of everyone in the pack. I shouldn’t have brushed off your concerns,” Seonghwa quietly confessed.

“I don’t want to scare her.”

“What?”

“During her heat. I don’t want my claim to scare her.” Hongjoong removed his hands from Seonghwa’s in favor of crossing his arms. The omega put a hand on his hip, brows furrowed with sympathy.

“I understand, but don’t make assumptions for her. Just sit down and be honest with her.” Hongjoong sighed, exhaustion weighing on his shoulders. “Now, we really do need to call the doctor.”

You happily munched on your croissant as you walked toward the subway. San and Yunho followed closely behind you, sipping on their iced Americanos. You wanted to argue because you loved the cafe’s brown sugar lattes, but they weren’t having it. So you settled for a matcha latte, which still gave you a little caffeine boost, but was much better than espresso. It didn’t take long to get to the police station.

“Hi, I need to give my statement for an incident from last night,” you greeted the officer at the front desk. She was less-than-enthusiastic about the interruption to her reading.

“Name?”

“Y/N L/N.” The officer sighed and turned to her computer. You fiddled with the lid of your to-go cup, her attitude making you nervous. Yunho noticed, obviously, and was about to move closer to the desk when San tapped his arm. He looked at the beta, who just shook his head. 

“Alright, I’ll go grab Yang.” The desk officer walked away without waiting for a response. Yunho rolled his eyes.

“Well, she seems delightful,” he grumbled while lacing his fingers through yours. A few minutes of awkwardly standing by the front desk passed by before the officer returned with an older man on her heels.

“Ms. L/N, I’m officer Yang Ju-won. If you’ll follow me, we can talk in the conference room.” He led you to a small, bare room at the back of the station. The only furniture was a round table in the center and a water cooler in the corner. A resounding smack on the door kept it from shutting after you. Officer Yang jumped, startled by the sound and Yunho’s glare.

“We’re staying with her,” the alpha stated, voice dropping an octave. 

“Guests aren’t really allowed–”

“She’s been through enough,” he interrupted the officer. “She’s not doing this without us.” 

“Only if you want us to, of course,” San added quickly, eyes flicking down to you before returning to the officer. 

“Uhm… If it’s alright, I’d like for them to stay, officer,” you asked shyly. Yang sighed and gestured for them to enter. There were only three chairs as the room was mainly used for one-on-one interviews. The extra chair was typically for a lawyer or translator. Yunho pulled you to sit on his lap, giving San the extra chair.

“Alright, let’s get started.” Yang flipped to a clean page in his notebook before going through an exhaustive list of questions. A conversation that probably could have been done in ten minutes stretched to 45. Your head pounded by the end of it.

“That’s everything I need,” Yang concluded, much to your relief. He handed you a business card. “This has my contact information if you need anything while we investigate further.” 

“Officer…” You paused, staring at the card while you figured out how to word your question. “Do you… do you know why he did it?”

“I really shouldn’t tell you this, but,” he sighed. He closed his notebook and leaned back in his chair before turning back to you. His forehead creased with sympathy. “You remind me of my daughter. She went through something similar.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you mumbled. Yang shook his head, waving away your apology.

“The ‘not knowing’ made things harder for her. I’d like to spare you that feeling, if I can.” Yunho and San shared a look behind you. “We’ve gotten access to Mr. William’s medical records. He has been diagnosed with erotomania and was being treated in the US by a specialist.”

“Erotomania?” San asked with a tilt of his head.

“I don’t fully understand it, but from what I read it’s a rare mental health condition. People with this condition have a delusional belief that another person is deeply in love with them,” he explained while tapping his chin with a finger. 

“Okay, so what does that mean for Y/N?” Yunho further questioned, eyebrows furrowed.

“Mr. Williams believes that Ms. L/N is in love with him. Something as small as a friendly smile or a brief moment of eye contact can be a trigger. He was supposed to continue seeing a psychiatrist while participating in the exchange program, but he started skipping sessions a few weeks ago.”

“So this happened because I just… existed?” Your heart ached in your chest. Yunho tightened his arms around your waist.

“Ms. L/N, please don’t blame yourself. His condition pushed him to violence, not you,” Yang urged earnestly. “I’m telling you this to explain his actions, not to excuse them. Others with this condition live perfectly normal lives with proper treatment. He chose to ignore that.”

“Thank you, officer,” Yunho said while standing, gently placing you on your feet and keeping a hand on your hip. “But we should go. She needs rest.”

“I understand. I’ll be in touch,” officer Yang assured the three of you while he led you up to the front desk.You deeply inhaled the fresh air, relieved to be outside after being in the stuffy, overwhelming police station for so long. Yunho kept you tucked close to his side as you headed home.

At Seonghwa’s request, Yeosang steered you to his and Hongjoong's room the moment you stepped through the door. He gently pushed you into the room with a quiet ‘good luck’ before shutting the door behind you. Seonghwa and Hongjoong sat on the latter’s bed. 

“Hey, how did it go?” Your elder omega smiled at your baffled expression. “Come sit.” 

“It went well.” You squeezed between the two, resting your head on the alpha’s shoulder. “Long and boring, and now my head hurts, but I’m glad it’s done with.”

“Good. We talked to our primary care doctor while you were gone. Since she’s never seen you, there wasn’t much she could tell us,” Seonghwa explained while you rested your eyes. 

“Oh.”

“But luckily, she said you should be fine during your heat as long as Hongjoong is gentle.” He shot the younger man a pointed look. “And you use a donut pillow.”

“Why do I need a special pillow?” You furrowed your eyebrows with a small pout. 

“The staples are on the back of your head. It’ll keep pressure off them while you heal. I actually sent Wooyoung to get you one so you could use it right away.”

“Does that mean I can take a nap now?” You looked up at him through your lashes. He brushed a thumb over your cheek, smiling sympathetically. 

“Soon, sweetheart, I promise. But you and Hongjoong need to talk first.” Seonghwa stood with an encouraging pat to your thigh before leaving you and the pack alpha alone.

“Is everything okay?” You sat up so you could give him your full attention. 

“Kind of?” He paused to sigh as he gathered his thoughts. The silence made you anxious. 

“Whatever it is, you can tell me. I won’t be upset.” Hongjoong stared at your sleepy, worried face. A knot of guilt twisted his stomach. You squeaked in surprise when he suddenly pulled you onto his lap, gripping the back of your shirt so hard his knuckles turned white. 

“I’m so sorry.” You couldn’t see his face, but you felt tears drop onto your shoulder. You wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Hongjoong, what-?”

“I knew something was wrong. I never should have left you alone while he was still on campus. I failed as your alpha and I am so fucking sorry,” he ranted into the fabric of your shirt. You gently removed him from your neck, forcing eye contact while cupping his face in your hands.

“I don’t blame you for any of this.” You shook your head when he opened his mouth to protest. “I don’t. You may think you failed, but the way I see it, you did exactly what you were supposed to do.”

“How?”

“You stopped him,” you stated simply, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You got to me in time.” He bit his bottom lip, still not fully forgiving himself.

“Do you… do you still want me there for your heat?”

“What? Of course I do,” you assured the worried alpha. “Why would you think I wouldn’t?”

“I don’t want to scare you.” His hands relaxed, dropping down to your hips while you raised your eyebrows. “This is twice now that he tried to force a claim. I don’t want my claim to remind you of him.”

“Oh,” you sighed and slumped into his chest, letting him take the brunt of your weight as you closed your eyes again. “Hongjoong, I still want it. I’d actually feel safer with it. He won’t be able to make another attempt once I have my alpha's- my mate’s- claim on me.”

“You’re absolutely sure? I’m already going to have to hold myself back, I won’t be able to stop myself from claiming you once we start.”

“Hongjoong,” you trailed off nervously. You tensed up, sitting back to stare at him with wide, fearful eyes. “Are you trying to say that you don’t want to? You don’t want to claim me anymore?” Logically, you knew why he was asking. But your emotions have been going haywire since last night, and your inner omega panicked at the unintentional implications of his words.

“No, nonono, of course I want to.” His hands ran up and down your sides. Despite the comforting gesture, your chest heaved with suppressed whimpers. “Fuck, I’m sorry. Omega, please, I’m not rejecting you.” Hongjoong tucked your head into his neck, pressing your nose to his gland so his scent could soothe you.

“Um,” you started once your breathing settled down. “If you’re worried about going too far, maybe one of the others could be there just in case?” He hummed as he considered the idea.

“That could work. I’ll talk to Jongho to see if he’d be comfortable with it.”

“Jongho?”

“Yeah. He may be the youngest, but he’s physically stronger than me. He’s one of the few pack members that could hold me back,” Hongjoong explained while trailing his fingers over your spine. “I also think he’s the only one that won’t be affected by the smell of your heat.”

“Really?” You mumbled, fighting to stay awake against your alpha’s scent and the fuzziness radiating from your injury.

“He has incredible self-control, and he doesn’t seem interested in sex.” Hongjoong peeked down at you at your noncommittal noise of agreement. “Alright, I get it. Nap time for my sweet little omega. Get some sleep, love. I’ll take care of the rest.”

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[cherrycherrylady2024]

Christmas with the Grimes'

Christmas with the Grimes'

(Dilf! Rick Grimes x reader) Word count: 1,945

Warnings: 18+, descriptions of dilfs? This one is pretty tame tbh

Chapter 1: Mr. Grimes

Packing your bags for winter break, you thanked your lucky stars you had somewhere to call home for the next month and a half. There was the option of staying in the dorms but you came to terms with the fact that that would simply be too sad. Plus you certainly couldn’t go back to your parent's house, you hadn’t spoken to those two since the day you graduated high school. You were finally well and truly on your own. College was everything you had dreamed it would be. Partially thanks to Judith, your roommate, for dragging you out of the dorm that first week of school. 

You purposely picked the earliest move-in date and had already been living in the dorm for two weeks before Judith even arrived. You tried your best to spruce it up with what little decor you had and sat wringing your hands all day for this girl to appear. With random roommate assignments who knew what you’d be getting? When the door began to open with a click! of the handle, your stomach dropped to your toes, but the second Judith walked in you knew everything would be okay. She immediately ran over to you and almost knocked you over with a bear hug. She was the sunshine that brought you out of your shell, and you two were BFFs since that very day. When she invited you to stay with her family over winter break, it was nearly impossible to say no. 

~~~

“C’mon y/n we’d have so much fun! I can show you around my town, I mean what little there is to see, but still! We can go ice skating, watch movies, have snowball fights with my brother- plus my dad makes some seriously fucking good eggnog.” Judith chatted into your ear as you were finishing up your last essay for finals. You sighed and pushed away from your desk, rubbing your eyes. This paper would be the death of you, especially with Judith's distractions. “That all sounds great, really, but wouldn’t it be an imposition on you guys? I mean Christmas is kinda special and I don’t want to be intruding on your-” Judith cuts you off. “Please intrude! We do the same stuff every year, it gets sooo boring. Anyways, I’ll miss you too much, so I’m not really asking at this point.” Judith plops on her bed and opens her laptop. “This is a kidnapping now?” you ask. Judith types furiously on her computer, “For the greater good. You can’t sit here and mope for the next month and a half, that’s too depressing.” She pauses for a second, staring at her laptop screen. “Is an 8 am train too early?” 

You sigh, and lean back, stretching, mulling it over for a moment.

 “Way, way, too early,” you say.

Judith looks up at you and smiles.

~~~

So here you were, bags packed and ready to go. You two took the bus to the Amtrak station and boarded easy-peasy. “Y’know, I always thought train travel would be like Murder on the Orient Express, but this is like… shanking on the shitty express,” you remarked as you examined the stained seat, shabby carpeting, and… let’s just say, unusual fellow passengers. You quickly corrected yourself, “I mean- not to sound ungrateful or anything.” Judith rolled her eyes in agreement, “Believe me this isn’t my first choice either. It’s only a four-hour drive, if my dad would let me bring my truck up we wouldn’t have to-” she was interrupted by the train starting up. It began to slowly peel away from the station. “Here we go!” you exclaimed, surprising yourself with how oddly excited you felt. Judith yawned, shifting in her seat. “I should’ve gone with the noon train, even 10 am feels like the crack of dawn.”

20 minutes later you were bored as hell and Judith was fast asleep, snoring every once in a while. Your phone had spotty service as it was, but now going through the countryside it was virtually impossible to do anything. You occupied yourself by looking out of the window. When that got boring you too tried to close your eyes, but Judith's snores were becoming increasingly loud. You looked at her and contemplated throwing goldfish into her half-opened mouth, but decided against it. 

Studying her for a little, you concluded that she looked a lot like her dad, from the one time you met him. 

It was the day Judith moved in.

~~~

Judith pulled away from the hug, “Y/n, right? I’m Judith. It’s so nice to meet you! I like your energy already,” she held your hands as she said this. “That's so sweet of you, you too!” you responded. “And this is my– dad come on!” Judith turned to the door, ushering in her father. The man was balancing two large moving boxes, labeled aptly as Judith’s shit, which obscured his face. “Jesus Judith, what’s in here? Boulders?” He shuffled over and plopped down the two boxes on the twin bed across from yours, breathing out in a huff. “Just my rock collection.” Judith teased. Her father wiped his face and turned to you, making a clack sound in his cowboy boots, “Nice to meet ya, m’Rick” he said, extending his hand to you. 

You froze.

Damn. 

He was handsome. 

You didn’t typically use that word to describe guys. They were always “cute” or “hot,” but this wasn’t a guy: this was a man, and he was fucking handsome. His skin was a little bit bronzed from the summer sun, and you immediately found your mind wandering to where those tan lines might end. Rick's hair was dark brown, thick, and pushed back, ending in perfect curls. You were instantly enraptured by his stunningly blue eyes. How do eyes that blue even exist? Rick had a strong and direct gaze, and you got the feeling that from one look, he could know all about you. Was it crazy to say he had a sexy nose too? You had never liked facial hair until this day. This was nothing like the scraggly high school mustaches you were accustomed to. Rick had a short, slightly salt-and-pepper, beard that perfectly accentuated his high cheekbones. His voice was deep and rough, with a sexy southern drawl that you clocked immediately. He wore a plain white t-shirt which, due to the August heat, stuck to him in just the right places. 

Damn. 

The dark blue jeans fit him perfectly, paired with a black belt cluttered by loops and pouches, what for? You weren't sure. The only thing you could identify on the belt was the gun holster, and the revolver snugly clasped in it. 

You took all this in in the few seconds he had turned to you. His hand was still outstretched when you came to.

“Oh- hi Mr. Grimes, I’m y/n.” You shook his hand gently in a daze. His hands were warm, a little rough, and covered yours completely when he brought the other one on top. “Nice to meetcha y/n. And just Rick is fine.”

Rick. Rick. Rick. Rick. Rick. Rick. Rick. Rick.

You nodded your head fervently and withdrew from the handshake. You did your best to act normal but your eyes drifted straight back down his body to the revolver. Judith had already made herself busy unpacking, and didn’t even need to turn around to know what you must be wondering, “Dad I told you to leave your gun in the truck, it freaks people out.” She turned back to the both of you, holding a teddy bear, “Don’t worry y/n he’s not in the mafia or something, that’d be way too cool for him.” Rick shook his head with a smile, his hand on his hip, “How do ya know I’m not?” Judith moved swiftly past him, grabbing something from his belt. “Hey!” Rick laughed. She tossed it to you and upon catching it, you turned it over in your hands. It was a shiny gold sheriff's deputy badge. 

Officer Rick Grimes.

Damn.

You chuckled lightly and handed it back to him, your fingers brushing his, as Judith entered the bathroom with a box labeled shower shit. “Don’t let your mob buddies see that badge,” you teased. Rick smiled (Damn.) and put it back in his belt pocket, “Thanks for the tip.” 

Judith emerged from the bathroom, “Dinner?”

The dinner was unfortunately quick, mostly Judith talked and you listened. Rick chimed in now and again but it was more for you two roommates to get to know each other. You couldn't help but sneak a few glances at Rick throughout the dinner. You watched as his muscles flexed in his forearms, studied when he’d crack a smile, and nearly swooned when he leaned back and swept a hand through his hair, his arm outstretched on the booth behind Judith.

It was like he was magnetic. Every time you looked away you felt a calling for more. You shook the feeling as best you could and focused on Judith. You found out she had a younger brother, Carl, who was a bit of a troublemaker. Through mouthfuls of pasta, Judith put it bluntly that their mom had passed away years ago. "I'm sorry to hear that," you responded. You glanced at Rick for a reaction, finding nothing. You told Judith about your family, sugar-coating some of the details as you swirled your pasta around, not making eye contact. She seemed to catch on fast and didn’t pry. You already liked that about her.

After paying for dinner, and you thanking him profusely, Rick escorted the two of you back to your dorm building. He gave Judith a bear hug goodbye, “I wish I could stay longer sweetheart but I gotta get up early in the mornin’.” He looked over to you and winked “Mafia stuff.” You smiled (oh my god) back as Judith pulled away. “It’s alright, I’ll see ya at parent's weekend pops!” She kissed him quickly on the cheek and headed towards the stairwell to the dorms. Rick chuckled, then shrugged his shoulders and looked to you, “She’s keepin' it all inside.” He said, patting his heart. You laughed, “I’m sure.” Judith yelled to you from the door, “C’mon y/n we gotta lot of catchin’ up to do!” You turned back to Rick, “Thank you so much again for dinner. It was nice meeting you, Mr. Grimes.” He clasped a hand down on your shoulder (fuck). “No problem, you girls be good now, ya hear?” He leaned down closer to you, whispering, “Don’t let her drive you crazy”. You titter nervously, a little overzealous, as he pulls away. Oh my god Oh my god Oh my god.

You could smell his cologne. Or maybe it was just him. A rich, woodsy, musk that you wanted to stuff your face into.

“I heard that Dad!” Rick spun on his heel and began walking away, his hands in his deputy jacket pockets. “Goodnight girls.” You watched him walk away for a moment, then followed after Judith.

~~~

That was nearly 5 months ago, and the last time you’d seen Rick Grimes. You didn’t have a crush per se, I mean, he was a grown man and you were….…well, technically of age, but it would be weird, right? Right??

I mean maybe it's not so bad if- NO. You need to snap out of it. You hadn’t even thought about him (much) the whole semester, but the notion of seeing him again gave you butterflies that you desperately tried to squash. He is your best friend's dad for god's sake. Not that anything would ever happen, but there was no reason to make things weird for yourself in your own mind. He’s Judith's dad, and he just so happens to be good-looking, nothing more nothing less.

Well- really good-looking. And funny too. Very charming. But nonetheless your best friend's dad! 

A dilf and your best friend's dad. 

This was going to be a long winter break.

***

notes: ahhhhhhh! ok so this is my first fic ever and I already have a few more chapters written and planned so lmk what you think! All comments, reposts, etc. are very much appreciated <3 stay tuned for more!

[apomaro-mellow]

Hawkins Confidential 2

Part 1

The last time Eddie had seen Steve, they’d been young and stupid and with a pup on the way. The last time he had ever heard about him was when Chrissy told him the pup had been born, healthy and beautiful. Eddie had tried not to think about either of them since then. And most days, he succeeded. He thought he’d gotten over thinking about what could have been but he couldn’t help that fragile kind of hope trying to bubble forth as he packed a light duffle and got into his truck. 

He drove and drove for hours and hours, memories coming forth without his permission as the miles spread out.

“I should make you get rid of it! You think that just because you whore around you can do whatever you want?!”, Richard Harrington jabbed a finger towards his son.

Eddie pushed between them, just barely holding his teeth back from snapping that finger off. But his fangs were bare. “You can’t fucking talk to him like that!”

“You stay out of this mutt!”

“What a piece of shit”, Eddie said to himself as he got closer and closer to his old hometown. He remembered where the Harrington estate was. He could have driven right up to it. But he needed some liquid courage before he did that. And the odds of him being allowed to rest in one of the dozens of guest rooms was slim, so he’d need a motel too.

After procuring a room, he walked down Main Street, not at all surprised to see that very little had changed in the years since he’d been gone. It was a small town, after all. With small minded people. But it was noon and the bar was in sight.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve, showing your face around here, Munson.”

“Why Jason Carver, what a delight”, Eddie said. He’d spotted Jason across the street and hoped he could have made it into the bar unnoticed. No such luck. And of course, he had his cronies with him.

“You have some nerve.”

“You’ve said that already. All these years and you haven’t rehearsed a decent script?”

“Why the hell are you back in town?”, Jason demanded to know.

“Personal business”, Eddie looked down at his nails.

“He’s probably here to go digging for gold now that old Harrington’s dead”, one of the cronies said. If Eddie remembered right, his name was Andy. How pathetic.

“That’s right”, Jason said like he just remembered. “With him gone, you can go sniffing around Steve again.”

“That’s none of your business.”

“Then I’m right. You are here for Steve.”

“He’s the only one in this town worth a visit, so sue me.”

Jason was annoying. But he wasn’t really worth Eddie’s time. He’d never been. It was just the circumstances of sharing such a small space that forced them to butt heads but as long as Eddie kept his cool-

“You and that whore are meant for each other.”

Eddie saw red, then suddenly Jason was on the ground, holding his face as more red spilled out onto the sidewalk.

-------------------------

Eddie was used to being handled by cops and being taken down to the precinct, which was sorry to say. It was even more sorry to say that he had no one to call. Chrissy came to pick Jason up and her eyes widened to see Eddie, though he knew Jason must have told her about him when he phoned her.

But she reigned in her expression as she collected her husband. Eddie wished it was easy to talk with her. He wished they had that freedom. But they had both learned to stay within their boundaries. Eddie was resigning himself to a night spent in lock up when someone came by and opened up the cell.

“Munson, you’re being released.”

Bewildered, Eddie got up, wondering if Chrissy had somehow returned. He froze mid step when he saw his benefactor. Steve looked just as beautiful as the day Eddie had left him. And he looked positively angelic in that cream colored sweater. Eddie swallowed. He hadn’t thought about what he’d say because what was there to say? Everything he came up with sounded too small to encompass everything he’d felt since the call. Since they parted, really.

Steve fixed that by stomping right up to Eddie. “You’re a complete idiot, you know that? Causing trouble the moment you return?” Only as the words left his mouth did Steve seem to realize what he said and he shrank back. “I’m sorry. That’s not what I wanted to say right out the gate. You never called back and I didn’t know you were coming.”

“Stevie”, Eddie said, the nickname falling from his lips much too easily for what they were supposed to be. He cupped Steve’s cheek and swooned from how the omega melted into it. “I missed you.”

Steve closed his eyes, savoring it before pulling back. “Come.”

Eddie followed him outside to the car and with a couple of seatbelt clicks they were on their way. 

“I’ve got a room, so you don’t need to worry about me”, he said.

“Oh, um, well that’s good. That’s good.” Steve didn’t know why he expected any different. There was no way in hell Tommy would ever allow Eddie to stay under their roof.

“So, what have you been up to?”, Steve asked.

Eddie chuckled. “Are you really trying small talk right now?”

“We haven’t spoken in years. I’m genuinely curious.”

“Nothing extravagant. I’m just about a day’s drive away. I work as a mechanic. Where are you driving us anyway?”

“Back to the house”, Steve said. “I know you have a room, but I figured you’d want to get settled some kind of way.”

“Take me to our son”, Eddie said.

Steve swallowed and Eddie put his hand on top of his on the gear shift. Steve changed their route to that of the hospital. Eddie braced himself as they got up to the room, but nothing could have prepared him for what he saw. A boy that was a perfect mix of him and Steve. His curls with Steve’s chesnut brown. 

“His name is Dustin”, Steve said. “And he needs an operation. You’re the only one who can help him. I know it’s a lot to ask. I know that. But my pup is my world. And he’s hanging on by a thread. He needs you, Eddie.”

“How long has he been like this?”, Eddie asked.

“He’s been in that bed for a few months. But he’s had problems before that.”

Eddie tore his eyes away from Dustin to look at Steve. “Why did it take you so long to-your father?”

“He didn’t want me to contact you. Not for anything. And Tommy only allowed it because of the conditions of my father’s will. He can’t inherit anything without an heir. If Dustin doesn’t recover then he’s going to-” Steve choked out a hiccup, suddenly overcome with what his life had become.

Eddie went over to Steve and embraced him, holding him as tight as he wished all these years. So many things missed. Birthdays, holidays, his pup’s first word, and steps, and all that came with the formative years of childhood. He was old enough that he’d be presenting in a few years. But Eddie didn’t blame Steve, he never would. The only ones to blame were the ones who held control over his life. 

“Speaking of-”

“Kindly unhand my mate, Munson.”

Steve backed away as if he were burnt and he went to Dustin’s side, avoiding Tommy’s glare. Eddie put his hands in his pockets and took in Tommy. He seemed mostly unchanged, if just puffing out his chest a bit more. He didn’t know if that came from finally attaining Steve or because the alpha above him had passed. Either way, Eddie couldn’t help himself.

“Well these tables have turned. Looks like you need my help, Hagan.”

“It’s Harrington, actually”, Tommy crossed his arms. “And I don’t need you for anything. Steve is the one still holding onto that boy. I told him that if Dustin doesn’t get better, we need another heir.”

Eddie stomped towards Tommy, about to swing when the doctor entered the room. Steve’s distress and Eddie’s irritation hung in the air. Eddie quickly pulled it back so that the doctor could explain the situation. She asked if Eddie was ready and prepared for the operation and he confirmed it. There was paperwork to be done but a tentative date was set for next week. When they finished, Steve stood, ready to take Eddie back to his motel.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?”, Tommy asked, gripping Steve’s forearm tight.

“I drove him here, I need to drop him off.”

“That riff-raff can get a cab. I’m not leaving you alone around him.”

Steve scoffed and was about to protest, wrenching his arm from Tommy’s hold when Eddie cleared his throat. 

“I’ll be fine, Steve. Don’t worry about me.” He got closer to Dustin’s bedside and leaned over to kiss his forehead. He also scented him subtly, glad when he only smelled Steve’s lingering scent. “I’ll be back to visit him”, he promised before making his exit. Then he paused. “Before I head out, how’d you know where to find me? You didn’t even know I was in town yet.”

Steve swallowed. “Chrissy told me.”

Eddie smiled. Of course. He nodded towards Steve and completely ignored Tommy as he walked out. 

-----------------------

Carol was in the middle of primping when she heard the front door open.

“Honey, I’m home!”

“Welcome home, Andy”, she called back, smiling when he entered the bathroom and kissed the back of her head.

“Did you hear? Munson came back into town and decked Jason.”

Carol prided herself in knowing everything that went down in this town. But even she never imagined that man would come back after being run out all those years ago.

“Really? Does Steve know?”

Andy shrugged, rolling up his sleeves. “Don’t know. But things are probably gonna get interesting.”

“Oh I’m sure~” Carol couldn’t wait. She applied some lipstick and turned her head from right to left before giving herself a satisfied expression in the mirror.

“Meeting your girlfriends again? It’s kind of late, isn’t it?”

“Oh it’s barely eight. We’re not old fuddy-duddies you know. Valencia left you a plate in the fridge. Don’t wait up, us girls can gab.”

She kissed his cheek and then she was out the door. Ostensibly to go to Heather’s house for some wine and gossip. They did plenty of that but instead Carol drove herself to an inn. And waiting for her in one of the rooms was one Tommy Harrington.

“I heard that old thorn in your side is back”, Carol grinned.

“I don’t even wanna talk about that trash. The sooner this operation’s done, the sooner he’s outta my hair”, Tommy paced about, agitated while Carol poured them both drinks. She didn’t look at all bothered as she handed a glass of brandy to him.

“Well he is going through with the operation, isn’t he?”

“Yeah”, Tommy said before taking a large gulp. “It’s happening next week.”

Carol took a small sip from her own glass. “Then there’s nothing to worry about. He gets that pup in shape, you inherit everything Richard left for you and then you can kick Steve and his little bastard to the curb. It’ll be all yours.”

Tommy smirked. “All ours.”

Their glasses clinked conspiratorially. Tommy downed the rest of his own and Carol set hers down just in time for him to lift her up and toss her onto the bed. 

Part 3