#not to their faces i just. was always looking over the fence so to speak

[july-19th-club]

crazy how i’ve never known a time when i wasn’t masking or overperforming in order to impress adults, so for the majority of my schooling no adult in my life ever noticed there was something off about how i interpreted and interacted and that it was not easy to keep up with the pace they expected me to be at, or they willfully ignored it because some woman when i was seven had told them i was supposed to be too smart to struggle

[inlovewithpandora]

Cowboy!Miguel and Farmer’s!daughter!reader who felt a spark for each other when they met for the first time when her parents hired Miguel as the new farm hand to help alleviate some of the chores off their plate.

Farmer’s!daughter!reader who shows Cowboy!Miguel how things work on the farm, explaining everything from feeding schedules for the animals to crop rotations as she leads him through the fields and shows him the barns and sheds on the property. For a while there’s a teacher/student dynamic, her showing Cowboy!Miguel the ropes while he stands back and watches but slowly, over time the lessons grew less formal, more casual, and the quiet glances they exchanged as the two of them worked side by side turned into something softer.

Cowboy!Miguel who loves the way Farmer’s!daughter!reader’s country accent rolls off her tongue so he often has her talk him through tasks when they're working side by side even though he already knows how to do them, he just wants to hear her sweet voice.

Farmer’s!daughter!reader who loves to cook and bake so almost every week she’s sending Cowboy!Miguel home with some tasty treats and he always accepts because everything she makes for him tastes delicious. Cowboy!Miguel knows how much cooking means to Farmer’s!daughter!reader so he never misses a chance to compliment her creations because he loves to see her light up at his praise.

Farmer’s!daughter!reader who brings Cowboy!Miguel a nice cold beer and a snack when he’s working so she can have an excuse to talk to him on her days off and so her parents don't suspect anything going on between them because she knows they won't agree.

Farmer’s!daughter!reader who feels a heat spread in her lower region when she sees Cowboy!Miguel working in the field shirtless, wearing nothing but his faded jeans, black leather belt with a silver buckle, and one of his many cowboy hats that cast a perfect shadow upon his face, bringing out the definition of his facial features and the stubble that surrounds his chin.

Cowboy!Miguel who does the act on purpose because he knows that it gets Farmer’s!daughter!reader all riled up and he loves to see the heated expression on her face and the playful, yet flirty banter that comes with it.

“Didn’t expect any company out here,” he says, his voice teasing but gentle as he looks up at her from the ground as he works on fixing the bottom of the fence so the pigs can’t wiggle their way out anymore.

Reader scrambles for an excuse, feeling the heat creep all the way up to her ears. “I—I just came to bring some extra supplies from the barn. Thought you might need ‘em.”

Miguel’s eyes look to the few extra boards in her hands, then back to her, his smirk widening just a bit. “Well, I appreciate it. Though I think you’re the one who might be needing some air.”

Reader lets out a nervous laugh, trying to play it off as if she isn’t admiring the way his body is glistening under the sun’s harsh rays. “It’s just hot, is all. Figured you’d be meltin’ out here without a shirt.”

His gaze lingers on her for a moment longer, a playful glint in his eyes as he tilts his hat up, allowing her to see the beads of sweat dripping down the sides of his face. “Doesn’t seem like you mind too much.”

Her face starts to practically burn now, but she doesn't know if it’s from the heat or the way Miguel’s insinuating that she likes seeing him unclothed. Either way she holds his gaze, deciding to avert from her usual shyness and be a little bold. “Well, if you’re gonna walk around half-dressed, I can’t promise I won’t look.”

Miguel chuckles at her comment, he’s surprised she said that because usually the women he meets don’t speak their mind like that but it’s clear that she’s different. He stands up from his kneeling position and steps a few inches closer to her, bridging the gap between them both and causing him to tower over her small frame. “Guess I’ll have to work shirtless more often then.”

“Better be careful,” she whispers, feeling a thrill at the way his eyes darken from the softness of her tone. “You might give a girl the wrong idea.”

He grins, his gaze dropping briefly to her lips before meeting her eyes again. “Or maybe… the right one.”

Cowboy!Miguel who loves taking Farmer’s!daughter!reader horseback riding across the dirt trails when both of them have finished their duties around the farm. Farmer’s!daughter!reader has a competitive spirit so she’s always challenging Cowboy!Miguel to a race and he’s always ready to accept.

Cowboy!Miguel who enjoys lightening Farmer’s!daughter!reader’s load by secretly completing a task she mentioned needed to be done earlier in the day because he knows it’ll make her day smoother since she has a lot on her plate.

Farmer’s!daughter!reader who patches up Cowboy!Miguel when he gets hurt working on different projects around the farm because he doesn’t like to make a big deal of his injuries and would walk around all bruised up if she allowed him to.

Cowboy!Miguel who can’t stand the thought of Farmer’s!daughter!reader being sick and alone while her parents were out of town so he comes over and takes care of her. He knows how much she hates being under the weather and he isn’t about to let her handle it on her own, especially since she came down with a nasty cold that’s paired with a fever.

“Miguel, I told you over the phone you didn’t have to come and babysit me,” she mutters, her voice hoarse and nasally. “I’m fine.” She tell him as she’s curled up on the couch, surrounded by crumpled tissues and her favorite blanket.

“Uh-huh,” Miguel raises an eyebrow, unimpressed at the way she’s trying to pretend she don’t feel like crap right now. “You sound real fine, mija. Like you’re ready to run a marathon.” Sarcasm drips from his tone as he sets the bags down on the table, full of things that’ll help her feel better. To the cowboy she looks miserable—puffy eyes, stuffy nose, and a feverish flush across her cheeks—but somehow she still manages to glare at him through her illness, making him shake his head at her stubbornness.

“I’m serious, Mig. You don’t need to hover over me, I can take care of myself and the house just fine.” She shoots back, letting out a weak cough before pulling the blanket tighter around her. The glare she’s giving him might be more convincing if her cheeks weren’t flushed with fever and her voice didn’t sound so pitifully hoarse.

He crouches beside her, his sharp gaze softening as he places a hand gently on her forehead. “You’re burning up, y/n. You can barely argue with me without coughing, let alone keep the house running.”

She swats at his hand, her glare softening into something more exhausted than defiant. “I’m okay, Miguel. Really. You don’t have to fuss over me like this.”

“You’re not,” Miguel said firmly, standing and heading toward the kitchen. “So you can keep being stubborn, but I’m staying. No arguments.”

Her lips twitch in what could be interpreted into a smile as she sinks back against the pillows, settling into the couch with a grumble. “Fine. But only because I’m too tired to fight you anymore.”

“Smart girl,” Miguel called over his shoulder, already rummaging through the cabinets. “Now sit tight, cariño. I’ve got this.”

Farmer’s!daughter!reader who slips into one of her velvet nightgowns that accentuates her assets and sneaks out to the back house where Cowboy!Miguel stays sometimes when he has a long work day and doesn’t feel like driving home.

Cowboy!Miguel who has to implement all his self control of not having his way with Farmer’s!daughter!reader when he notices how full and plump her breasts are in her nightgown because he wants to be a true gentleman.

Farmer’s!daughter!reader who isn’t afraid of hard work and is always asking Cowboy!Miguel if he needs help but he always tells her that he has it under control.

“Just focus on being pretty while I break a sweat, okay, querida?” He says with a slight smirk while placing his hat on her head so she doesn’t have to worry about the sun shining on her face while she keeps him entertained, causing a smile to creep onto her lips.

Cowboy!Miguel who gets protective over Farmer’s!daughter!reader when he takes her into the city and notices all the guys that are staring at her. Farmer’s!daughter!reader doesn’t mind the attention because she knows how pretty she is and that if anything was to go too far, like someone making her feel uncomfortable he would protect her.

Farmer’s!daughter!reader who initiates their first kiss. She knows that Cowboy!Miguel is holding back out of respect for her, wanting to take things slow and let her set the pace. But the longer he waits, the more restless she becomes. She decides to take matters into her own hands, determined to show him she’s ready for more, even though she’s shy about making it known.

The night is peaceful and quiet, the stars casting a soft and gentle glow over the field as reader and Miguel lay side by side in the bed of his truck. The quilts she’d brought along provide a cozy barrier against the truck bed’s cool metal, their warmth competing with the crisp countryside air. The breeze carries the scent of earth and hay, rustling the trees softly, while the distant hum of cicadas fills the spaces between their words.

Reader shivers slightly as the breeze rolls by, and Miguel was quick to notice. He shifts closer to her, draping an arm over her shoulder to pull her against him. “Cold?”

“A little,” she murmurs, her cheek brushing against his shoulder. “But I don’t mind it.”

“Good thing I’m here,” he teases, a soft smirk playing on his lips.

She rolls her eyes, but her smile betrays her and tells a different story, showing that she’s amused by his comment. “Big, tough cowboy to the rescue,” she quipped, nudging him lightly. “Guess I’ll keep you around.”

Miguel chuckles, the warmth of his laugh settling over her like another quilt. He rubs her arm gently, his thumb grazing her skin in a way that sends a shiver through her—though this one has nothing to do with the cold. She looks up at him, her eyes meeting his, and the playful atmosphere subtly shifts.

The tension that’s been simmering for the past few months since they first met is beginning to become more intense and impossible to ignore. It lingers in every stolen glance the two of them share, the way his hands are attached to her body longer than necessary when he helps her down from the tractor, and how a spark ignites whenever their hands brush each other when working side by side on the farm.

Reader can feel it—the rush of anticipation that stirs inside her whenever she’s near Miguel. Her heart races a little faster whenever his gaze meets hers, and her breath catches in her throat every time his rough voice whispers one of the many pet names he has for her. She knows that the cowboy is holding back, trying his best to give her space, but the longer he waits, the more restless she becomes. It's almost as if they're both waiting for the other to make the first move, but neither of them dares to cross that invisible line.

“You keep looking at me like that,” he murmurs, his voice dropping, “and I’m not gonna be able to behave.”

Her heart races at his words, a blush creeping into her cheeks. But she didn’t look away. Instead, she let her hand rest on his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath beneath her palm. “Maybe I don’t want you to behave,” she whispers to him, her voice shy but filled with a sense of determination.

Miguel’s eyes darken within seconds at your remark, his hand moving to cup her cheek, gently gliding his thumb against your skin. “Careful, cariño,” he warns softly, though the heat in his gaze betrays his restraint.

“I’m serious, Miguel.” she begins, her voice trembling slightly as she works up the courage to push past their current boundaries. “I know you want to respect me, but you don’t always have to respect me.”

Miguel’s eyes darken at her words, his thumb tracing the curve of her jaw, his grip tightening just enough to show he’s listening closely. For a moment, he stays silent, considering her with a quiet intensity. Then, his lips curl into a slow, almost teasing smile, but there’s something more serious behind it. “You sure about that?” he murmurs, his thumb gently stroking her skin as if it’ll help him feel the truth in her words. “Because once we cross this line, there’s no going back—”

Instead of answering, she closes the gap between them, her lips capturing his in a kiss that’s soft yet filled with conviction. She feels his surprise at first, but then his body responds, his hands sliding to her waist and pulling her body closer to him as he deepens the kiss, his lips pressing harder against hers. There's no more restraint now, just the raw, unspoken need that they both share.

Words from Artist — This is my first time doing a au!character x au!reader so let me know if you like the pairing cowboy!miguel x farmer’s!daughter!reader and if you would like to see more of them! If you have any ideas you would like to see with the pairing feel free to send them to my ask box! I hope you enjoyed, feel free to leave a comment, like, and reblog!

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[forensicheart]

My Protectors

F1 Grid x Reader

Summary: Sometimes fans aren't always so nice, but at least you've got the drivers to protect you

Warning/s: Shit talking (directed towards reader)

A/N: Short but sweet, enjoy :)

You loved your fans, there was no denying it. They were the reason that you were welcomed at every race weekend with such an unbelievable atmosphere. But there were the occasional fans who made that atmosphere a little less joyful.

"You're the worst driver here, how have you not been replaced yet?"

"I can't believe they still let you drive"

"I bet you slept your way into your seat!"

Those were just some of the comments thrown at you as you walked past the crowds of 'supporting' fans. You kept your head forward knowing better than to give them the satisfaction that you were even acknowledging their words. That was until one particular comment, one you hadn't heard before, reached your ears.

"Which driver are you fucking to let you win this weekend L/n?"

You blinked as you came to a sudden holt, registering what had just been yelled. You turn, ready to face the person to discover who said such a thing only to find Max and Charles storming their way over, stopping the conversation they were having.

"Did you wanna repeat that one mate?" Max dares the fan crossing his arms as he stands menacingly in front of the fence that separated you from the crowd.

The fan stuttered as their eyes widen, darting around only to find judgment staring back at them.

"That's what we thought" Charles speaks up with a small smirk on his lips.

"I hope you know that Y/n wins because of their own racing abilities not anything else that may be suggested" Charles continues raising his voice as if to direct his words to more than just the stunned fan in front of him.

"If you think Y/n sleeps their way to wins then any of us could be" A new voice perks up by your side causing your head to whip towards it to find Lando standing confidently. You give him a shy smile and he returns it with a reassuring one as he wraps a friendly arm around your shoulders.

"Either way they're a hell of a lot better than you are if they're the one standing on this side of the fence" Max defends this time gesturing to the separating fence.

"So" Charles raises his voice once more. "Anyone else wanna comment or are we done here?" The silence that follows speaks volumes as Charles nods with a stern look before making his way over to you and motioning for Max to follow.

With Lando's arm around your shoulder and Max and Charles now by your side you continue your walk past the crowds which the biggest support you've ever had come your way. You lean into Lando in content and he looks at you with a bright smile, giving your shoulder a comforting squeeze.

"Let's go prove to them how amazing you are" He whispers loud enough for just you, Max and Charles to hear. Max claps a hand on your shoulder and Charles give you a nod of reassurance.

"Let's do it" You declare, holding your head high as you walk with the boy, your protectors.

[emmyrosee]

Oh nothing.. just thinking about how it’s been really hot lately so you, yuji, sukuna are usually laying around in nothing but shorts and a tank top bc it’s too hot to do anything. So u come up with this great idea to have a water fight in the back garden with the water hose too cool off and it’s just a bunch of messy nonsense and then u end the day at a 7/11 licking ice cream in sukunas car…🥹❤️

-Anon🥢

BRO I WILL COMBUST THIS IS SO CUTE

__

“I’ll… be right back.”

“Don’t threaten me.”

You’re quick to scurry away after Sukuna speaks, smirking and letting your feet carry you through the grass of his back yard. The plant is hot under your toes, but you pay it no mind as you make your way to the side of his parent’s house, grabbing the hose used to fill Yuuji’s pool.

It’s hot, far too hot for comfort. Yuuji’s pool is constantly filled with cooler water to keep him from sweating, a large hat plopped on his head while you periodically smother him with sunscreen as he plays with his floating toys. His older brother, on the other hand, tans lazily in the beams of sun, his body warm as he soaks up the rays of light. He’s always been better in the heat, but you can tell even he’s sluggish from the temperature.

You grin as you turn the dial to ‘shower’ and hide the tool behind your back, being sure to keep your steps quiet. You tuck your lips in your mouth to conceal any giggles, and you creep towards him with mischief coursing through your body.

“Baby?”

“Hmm?”

“Look at me.”

Immediately, Sukuna’s head turns to face you, and you quickly spray his warmed body with a spray of the hose, his face going from confusion to panic in a matter of seconds

“WHAAAAAAAAAAT THE FUCK-“ he screams, leaping up as he’s covered in frigid water, trying to run away from the spray. You laugh and keep your aim, watching him dash around the yard to create distance. Luckily- or, unlucky for him- the fence keeps him contained in his running, and you and yuuji laugh at his expense. “ILL KILL YOU! YOU HEAR ME!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” you snicker. “Gotta catch me first!”

“Wanna pay!” Yuuji whines. “Pease!”

“Quick yuuji, come here!” You beckon, but his older brother is quick to scoop up the small boy, using him as a shield. Yuuji squeals and kicks his tiny legs, and you shake your head as he holds the small boy to his chest.

“You’d never spray the innocence of a child, would you?” He faux pouts, and yuuji merely giggles at you.

You shake your head, “no. Thankfully, you’ve got long legs.” You spray his long legs with the hose, and he growls and darts yuuji down to protect his now cold, wet legs. You laugh and are swift to move the dial to ‘mist’ and you spray the both of them. This, has sukuna actually hold Yuuji still, making sure to cool off his little brother under the spray. He squirms and laughs at the little mist of water coating his body, and when your eyes flick up to sukuna, your heart flutters as you see him smiling happily rather than mischievously.

“Cold!” Yuuji chirps.

“Want me to stop?” You offer.

“No!” He shakes his head. So, you don’t. You sway the spray from side to side, coating his left then his right, all the while he flails his limbs and laughter shakes his small body. “Wanna spray su’kna!”

“What.”

“Come here!” You encourage, flashing your boyfriend an empathic smile. He groans and places yuuji down in the mud, who quickly toddles over to you and grabs the bottom of the hose. To humor his brother, he pretends to run away, faux screams of panic as you turn the dial back to shower and pass the little boy the hose. He’s quick to aim at his brother, who grits his teeth at the cold.

But, the signals in your brain cross when the water is suddenly turned to you, splashing against your skin. You yelp and turn instinctively to run, but don’t make it very far before Sukuna catches on and catches you, holding you in his big arms as Yuuji sprays you both. You shriek and writhe in his grip, receiving the bulk of the spray with your body against his.

“Karma, you fucker,” he snickers while yuuji sprays both of your torsos. You playfully bat at his chest to try and get away, but his hand comes down to grip your chin steady and pull you into a kiss. You mewl and wind your arms around his neck, the cold water stopping as you continue the affection. He pulls away, smirking. “Figured that would stop your fucking whining and screaming.”

Yuuji tosses the hose to the side, “wanna kiss! Pease! Wanna smoochie kiss!” Sukuna laughs and picks his brother up, and while you press a kiss to his cheek, Sukuna, as always, playfully bites his rosy cheek, making his brother laugh at his brother’s silliness.

“If I get you both ice cream, will you let me tan in peace?” He asks. You both instantly nod, and he rolls his eyes, “same fuckin’ brain cell, I swear.”

The sun doesn’t take long to dry all of you off, and you’re quick to load into Sukuna’s truck, listening to the radio and watching as people in their yards handle the heat- some are in their garden, others tanning much like sukuna. Some kids run through sprinklers, while others bounce a basketball in their driveways. Yuuji babbles about anything and everything, what he’s learning in school and his silly friend Kugisaki, occasionally stopping to dance to the song playing.

The ride to 7/11 is short enough, and you load out of Sukuna’s truck, far too excited for a sweet treat. Sukuna has a favorite, a lemon slush that comes in a cup, while you and Yuuji select the same ice cream every time. Sukuna doesn’t bother waiting to pay to start eating, but he does slide the bill across the countertop, and once he does, you and Yuuji dive right in.

“Have a good day!” The cashier says, and you compliment him with a ‘thank you’ and load back into Sukuna’s truck, already sticky with humidity filling the air.

You eat your ice creams in peace, fending off the sweltering heat with the treat, and all you can think about is how much you love the other two occupants in the car.

And how sticky yuuji is going to be, once he’s done.

[yanderenightmare]

Bakugou Katsuki

TW: yandere, kidnapping

fem reader

Just had another thought about bully!Bakugou and quirkless childhood friend!darling...

You fall off the grid after high school only to reveal yourself several years later, right in the thick of his career.

He’s been recruited to go on an undercover mission to uncover a major drug scheme. He and a female operative are to play newlyweds, living together in a pretty suburban picket fence house where you'll be conducting surveillance on the neighboring family.

When you walk into the brief, you don’t give any sign of having recognized him. Nor him you, even though his chest and throat tightened to the point he had to stifle a cough.

When you sit down, you’re calm and collected while letting slip a smooth, breathless scoff – giving a slight smirk, saying calmly, “You jokers chose this landmine for a covert mission?”

“You two know each other?”

Your eyes slide off to look at Bakugou, eyeing him up and down where he sits – trying his best to hide it, but your trained eyes see it clear as day – rigid, short-breathed, a little sweaty. He’s shocked, he’s nervous, he’s even a little embarrassed.

You smile. And despite the history, all you offer in answer is a curt, “We used to.”

Bakugou feels like you have him by the balls. His jaw doesn’t unlock during the entirety of the meeting, reading the list of your responsibilities while they’re explained. How the entire neighborhood might be both bugged and surveyed by the target, so you’ll have to perform as a real married couple every waking hour – including eating together, sleeping together, kissing each other, fucking each other so as not to raise any suspicion.

You don’t budge or show any tells. You’ve been trained for this, and you’ve done this type of work plenty of times before already. Bakugou had read your file, so he knew – but shit, how weren’t you uncomfortable?

The mission lasts three long months and seventeen days. And when it’s done, you fall right off the grid again as though none of it had meant a thing.

And he knows that that’s how it’s supposed to be. He knows none of it is supposed to be real, but how can it not have been? It can't have all been a performance. He rejects that. He refuses it. He knows for certain you couldn’t have been acting all that time. You couldn’t because he hadn’t.

He’s breaking so many rules, tracking you down. And your disgust of his unprofessionalism is written all over your face when you open the door to find him having been the one to ring your doorbell. Still, you save saying anything but gesture for him to come inside.

“You weren’t easy to find-”

“This is gross misconduct, Bakugou. I can have you reported.” You cut him off. He’s not heard that voice come out of you. When you were his wife, you’d only speak sweetly – lovingly and dotingly, often with your arms slung around him, your hands in the short stubble at the back of his neck, smiling up at him so prettily.

You were scowling now.

“Are you?” He asks.

You stare at him for a moment, but then you give in with a sigh – trodding off to what he guesses is the kitchen without an answer to his question. But the silence is an answer in and of itself.

You dress differently than you did. No frilly little dress. But sweatpants and a tank – no jewelry, no makeup, hair undone.

You open the fridge and hand him a beer, then you crack one open yourself. “I have something stronger if you need it.” You say then, but he waves a no. So you lean against the counter and bring your can up to your lips. “Why are you here?”

He watches you drink for a moment. When you were his wife, you didn’t like beer, you only drank white wine, and it always made you tipsy after a couple of sips. You would never even finish a glass before becoming slow and dull-eyed. Suppose he’d never actually seen you drunk at all…

He doesn’t open his beer, feeling the cold dew drip over his knuckles. “Do you miss it?” He asks.

You look him in the eyes with slanted ones of your own. “I’m not humoring that question. If you’re having issues, you should file for a shrink. The bureau offers the best, they’ll suck out all the shit from your mind, and you’ll go back to normal within a week or two.”

“I don’t wanna go back to normal.”

You look annoyed, but then your face softens. “It’s like that the first time. It’ll pass.”

He doesn’t believe you. In your file, it said that you’d done this seven times before. Sometimes much longer than the months you’d spent together.

“It was a job, now it’s over. You need to shut the door on it and move on with your life.”

You say that, but looking around your space, it seems your job doesn’t allow much of life to take place. You have a couch and a TV, but otherwise, everything is barren. No pictures on the walls, no decorations. Where a dining table should stand, you have workout equipment instead, sprawled out over the entire floor. And if he saw your fridge correctly, you only have beer and TV dinners.

“You always on the job?” He asks.

You place your finished beer upside down in the sink, letting the last drops dry off while muttering out a retort, “Aren’t you?”

He doesn’t hear it, though. Too busy looking at you, standing there against the sink – looking the way you did when you’d wash dishes after dinner. You’re not wearing a summer dress or an apron – but you stand the same way. Slightly bent over, hips pushed into the countertop, ass pushed out like a welcome. 

He sets his beer off on the counter and takes his spot behind you, sliding his bigger hands around your small waist, slotting himself against you with his crotch nudged nicely against your butt. It feels right.

You make a small sound, going a little rigid at the unsuspected attack – but weren’t brash enough to push him away. You were rational enough to accept you wouldn’t be able to if you tried. 

“You sure you don’t miss it?” He asks again in a murmur, brushing his lips up your artery – nuzzling against you – his heavy chest resting against your shoulder blades – and you could feel the equally heavy pounding of his heart.

“Listen, Bakugou… whatever you think you miss, it doesn’t exist.” You state flatly. “Dominic and Suzie aren’t real.”

Those had been your names. Dominic and Suzie, Mr. and Mrs. Brooks. Your identities for three months. But now, no more.

“But they can be…” Bakugou whispered back, tugging you a little closer – then released a small breathless laugh. “We always used to say we’d get married one day, remember? When we were brats…”

A small smile creased a dimple on your cheek at the memory, but only for a small second before you remembered everything he’d put you through after. “We’re not brats anymore. And honestly-” You catch your tongue and never finish the thought. It’s so long ago it doesn’t matter.

You sigh, knowing you’re lying to yourself. 

You relax again and drop your head back to rest on his shoulder, overlapping his hands with yours. “In retrospect, we should have filed for replacement from the start.”

“Why didn’t you?”

You pause a little bit, weighing whether you want to tell him or not. “I felt I had something to prove.” You confess. “You’ve always made me feel worthless, so when I was presented with the opportunity to rub it in your face, the child in me couldn’t resist.” 

You thought it would feel like a victory, a sweet revenge, but in the end, it just made you disappointed in yourself. How could you think playing house with a person you hate would do you any justice?

“It was stupid, and I regret it. I’m better than that.” You add resolutely. “Nevertheless, mission complete. It’s behind us now.”

Bakugou didn’t agree, still holding you the same way he’d done. 

 “You should let go of me.” You sigh again. “I’m not gonna act like Suzie for you, so-”

“I don’t want you to act like Suzie.” He interjected, nuzzling against your neck with a whisper. “I want you... the real you.”

You scoff. “Fuck- Katsuki, look around you. There’s nothing here to want.”

“Let’s make something then.” He argues, pressing a soft kiss below your ear. “It was always supposed to be us two. From the start.”

“What are you talking about?” You won't deny the contact feels good. Good enough to make your voice come out in a moan.

“I’m talking about me and you, anywhere we choose.” He continues with his kisses, and you close your eyes to the feeling but still scoff at the offer. 

“You’re talking about a dream. I’m not leaving my job to chase some fantasy with you.”

There's a silence, and Bakugou’s voice comes out more serious after. “I’m not giving you a choice.”

Your brows furrow, and you open your eyes again.

He still kisses your neck, now with his hands rubbing firm circles in your sides.  

“You were very hard to find…” He mutters. “I doubt anyone would notice if you went missing…”

“Katsuki-” You protest, still calm as you try and push yourself from the counter, but it’s an aimless effort. His touches only grow stronger to keep you in place.

“The bureau would think you’d decided to go private or retire. And given your record, I don’t think they’d spend too many resources trying to find you.”

“Katsuki, let go-” It’s scary, but you’ve been in scarier situations, so you’re able to keep your cool still – despite the chills that run up your spine from his speech. “You’re talking crazy-”

“Living like this is what’s crazy.” He answers.

His apartment looks the same. Nothing personal anywhere except a vain mantle lined with diplomas and trophies he’d received for civic duties when he’d laid his life on the line. Otherwise, it was as stale as a cheap hotel room – no art, no pictures, no carpets, not even a lamp. Just the necessities. Kitchen articles and a bed.

“I need you. And by the looks of things, you need me too.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The House Guest 9

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes

Summary: an old acquaintance calls in a favour, leaving you with an unexpected house guest.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You wake with a start from your dreams of intruder bears and scattering birds. The night’s been no more restful than the one before. Your mind is a whirlwind, mashing together visions of reality and anxieties of tomorrow. 

Another thunk has you sitting up with a huh trapped in your throat. You rub the stitch from between your brows as you groggily shake your head. It’s so early, the windows are grey blue and grim. What the hell is that? 

You get up and go to the window as the noise comes again. Bucky stands over a stack of long boards near the shed. You frown. What is he doing and where did those come from? 

He turns and you give a start. He sees you between the curtains and gives a two fingered salute. You lift your hand stiffly and quickly turn away. You grab a zip sweater and pull it on, hiding in the baggy fabric. You’re all too aware of the brush of your hard nipples against your thin tee. 

You head out through the fog of your unceremonious awakening and open the back door to peer out. Bucky appears from around the side of the house, carrying a stack of half a dozen boards easily. He sets them with the rest and faces you. 

“What’s all this?” You cross your arms, chattering in the brisk morning. 

“You need a fence,” he says. 

His answer is annoying. It’s half an explanation. 

“Okay, and... where exactly did you get all this wood?” 

“Your neighbours recommended a guy; Maurice?” 

“Maurice,” you repeat. The old man doesn’t have much else going on. He’s always happy to deliver. “Right.” 

“Give me something to keep busy,” he shrugs. 

“Makes sense,” you rub your cheek. 

“Coffee in the pot. Should be warm still,” he comes toward you. “Did I wake you up?” 

You shake your head. It doesn’t matter. You weren’t sleeping well. 

“Thanks. You want more?” You point to the mug on the small wooden stool. 

“Good for now,” he assures you. 

You nod and turn away. You stop halfway. You withhold a sigh, “hey, thanks. You don’t have to... do all this.” 

“It should save you having to witness another wrestling match,” he says. 

“Right,” you scoff. 

You go inside and pause on the other side of the door. Did he overhear your conversation with Sam? Is that what he meant? Even if he did, you didn’t say anything bad. You only told Sam that the man he left on your couch is fighting the wild. 

You pour yourself a coffee and drink it alone, grateful for the moment to yourself. You hear the wood clatter outside in a steady rhythm. Just long enough for him to make a trip between the back and front lawn. 

If he’s busy, that means you can be. You’ll get some work done while he’s outside. You have some toast as you get everything set up then sink into your focus. It’s all simple. You have it by rote. You save as much as you can, not trusting your connection to maintain the cloud’s autosave. 

You get up to make another coffee and nearly shriek. You didn’t notice the sudden silence. No wood falling, no footsteps. Bucky stands in the doorway of the kitchen, his eyes on you. 

“You looked... intent, I didn’t want to interrupt,” he says. 

“Right,” you shake off the fright and go to the counter, “want more coffee?” 

“Sure. If you’re busy, I can take care of it,” he nears you as he speaks. 

“I can handle it. Won’t take me very long.” 

“I don’t mind,” he gets closer and closer. 

“Really, it’ll take five minutes. I need the break--” 

He sidles behind you as you reach for the canister but he’s quicker. He swipes it out of your grasp. You feel him behind you, penning you in as he snatches up the coffee ewer with his other hand. 

“Hey, I’m the one crashing. Trying not to feel useless here,” he insists. 

You grip the counter, suffocated by his closeness. 

“That’s nice, but...” You press your elbow into his side, a soft nudge to say, back up. He doesn’t. “Can you--” 

“How long you been here alone?” He asks, standing strong like a wall behind you. You lean forward, trying to make space. 

“Bucky--” 

He moves aside casually and sets down the coffee and he brings the carafe to the sink and rinses it out. “Kinda eerie, isn’t it? In the city, there’s always noise. Up here, the silence is... dense, don’t you think?” 

“I guess,” you agree quietly as you quickly retreat from the counter. That was strange. He can be a bit... odd but that was very obvious not normal. 

“I had to walk thirty minutes just to get to your neighbour. All those trees too, they’ll catch the sound,” he speaks as he weighs out the coffee grounds. “You ever run through a forest before? And that one’s dark even in the day. If you’re not dodging trees, you gotta make sure there aren’t roots to trip over.” 

You’re quiet as you listen, unsettled. Why is he saying all this? 

“And well, you gotta worry about whatever’s in there to chase you, don’t you? Bears, coyotes... you got wolves around here?” He asks. 

You clear your throat, “I... I think so.” 

“Mm, and they hunt in packs. Mostly. But even one is dangerous.” He fills the water tank as you stare at his back. “If they get you, they go for the shoulder and flanks. Get your strongest tendons. Can’t move your arms, can’t fight. Can’t move your legs, can’t run...” 

“I’ve never seen any though...” you croak. 

“Wolves don’t really chase their prey though, they stalk it. The prey doesn’t even know it’s being hunted. They sneak up so they don’t have to run.” Like he sneaks up? “Take their time.” 

You chew your lip. You look around and listen. It is really quiet. The click of a button makes you wince. 

Bucky turns to you. You blink and quickly turn to your computer. Just a glance and the vision of him is stamped in your head. The tension in his jaw, the glint in his eyes, and that shadow that seems cast by his aura alone. 

You’re pretty sure he’s not talking about real wolves. 

[holylulusworld]

Stumblerella

Summary: You’re clumsy. Luckily, a hero moved in right next to you.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!Reader

Warnings: clumsy reader, fluff

Square filled for @steverogersbingo: B1: Retired Steve

Your neighborhood was always a good place to live. People are friendly. No one is nosy, or loud. And, you can have a sunbath without some creep spying on you.

Today you decided to cut your roses. It’s too hot, and maybe too early, but you’re bored. Stuck at home because your boss forced you to take some time off, you didn’t find a better way to kill your free time.

“Miss,” a deep voice calls from across the street, “I’m not an expert, but you shouldn’t cut roses when it's so hot.”

“What?” You frown as a tall guy makes his way over the street to stand in front of your fence. “Hi, what did you say?” You ask.

“The roses,” he says and points at the chosen victims of your boredom. “You will ruin them if you cut them today. It’s too hot.”

“Oh.” While you sweat like a whore at a church, he seems to be unbothered by the heat. His smile widens as you stare at him. He looks familiar, but you’ve always been bad with faces. “Thank you, I guess.”

“You’re welcome, miss.” He holds out his hand. “I’m Steve. Maybe you saw that I moved in across the street.” Steve points over his shoulder at the house Mr. Stevenson left after his wife ran away with her yoga instructor.

“Sorry, I didn’t know someone bought the house,” you reply, ashamed you didn’t bring your new neighbor a gift.

Steve looks at your hand in his. “Will you give me your name too, or do you want me to give you a name?” He jokes.

“Y/N,” you are quick to answer. “Y/N Y/L/N. I live here.” You roll your eyes at your stupid reply. “Uh—if you need anything, just tell me.”

“That’s very kind of you,” he says and squeezes your hand. “You’re the first one not asking me to do something for them.”

“Why would I?” You cock a brow. “I don’t even know you, Steve. I wouldn’t dare ask you for help.”

He smiles and says, “Y/N, whenever you need help, you can ask me. I live just across the street.”

“Watch out!” Steve pushes you out of the way as your car rolls down the street. It’s not very fast but would’ve run you over either way. “Y/N!”

You slowly try to get back up, only to watch Steve stop your car with his body. He puts his hands on your vehicle and rams his feet into the ground.

“What the—?” you gasp audibly. He looks like a superhero at that moment. “What? How?” Your eyes widen as you finally remember where you’ve seen his face before.

“Y/N! Wait!” Steve is suddenly next to you. He snatches your bag with groceries out of your hands and flings them across the street.

For a moment, you’re too shocked to speak or react. Your bag is on fire and slowly turns into dust. Your marshmallows, grapes, and flour are gone, and you mourn their loss.

“How did you…never mind,” Steve laughs as you watch the paper bag burn. “I mean…do you have a lighter in there, or what happened?”

“I don’t know.” You shrug. “Things like that happen to me all the time. My car drives on its own. My heels break. The grocery bag is suddenly on fire.”

“Steve?” You knock at his door, calling Steve’s name. “I know it’s a little late, but I got something—” You shriek when Steve opens the door the moment you lean against it to press your ear to it.

“Y/N?” Steve watches the pie in your hands fly toward him. Steve catches your fall after dodging the pie in time. “Whoa, watch out. We don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Sorry…so sorry. The pie was for you,” you sniff as Steve helps you stand on steady feet again. “Now it’s ruined.”

“Doll, if you wanted me to save you, you could’ve just screamed my name,” Steve jokes as you’d love to hide from him. Embarrassed, you murmur an apology. “You’re a little clumsy, huh? Maybe you should stay close to me from now on.”

A retired hero is still a hero. Steve will make sure you're always safe from now on.

[madelinemccoolname]

Slime girl hrt

So, you’ve decided you’re a slimegirl. I’ve been on fluid replacement therapy, commonly referred to as slime hrt or shortened to frt, for five years but I haven’t managed to find a decent guide on the effects I’ve been experiencing anywhere on the internet. So I’ve decided to make this little guide for anyone who might still be on the fence. Keep in mind obviously I don’t speak for everyone and other goorl’s timelines might look a little bit different based on like genetics or something.

0-6 months

• For the first 3 months the effects are, I’m told, similar to estrogen’s first couple months, you’ll notice for sure your skin getting softer, your face might round out a bit, but the most you get are the side effects

• I personally was not prepared for how thirsty I got, I had heard about it but you really don’t know how much of your body isn’t liquid until you’re replacing all of it

• At 4 months is when I noticed my skin and body were moving kinda differently, tho this got the most pronounced at 6 months

• At 6 months all of my skin rippled like the surface of a pond whenever anyone touched me or like if the wind started blowing

• My joints got a lot more flexible, and my elbows and knees became double jointed (don’t do this too much)

• My hair didn’t get tangled overnight anymore

• My finger prints went away

6-12 months

• Here’s where the real magic starts, I got a lot thirstier for one and specifically had cravings for gatorade, I think this has something to do with slimegirls being partially salt water, but it could also be the food coloring in it (this is a joke about me drinking a lot of light blue gatorade and then being light blue)

• On the subject of color my skin got a sort of blue tinge to it, and most notably got completely see through by my 8 month mark

• The changes start from the thinnest part of your body and goes in towards your core, so even by 5 months your fingertips might be completely clear

• This next part is partially why I wanted to make this guide, so obviously your body doesn’t liquify at the same rate all over, for me this meant I was able to see the muscle in my upper arms if I looked through my fingers, this is both normal and something you’re going to have to get used to as you continue your journey

• Your toes are also going to turn at the same rate, this will probably be your first experience with lint getting in your slime bits, you don’t need to worry about your bloodstream getting infected with sock but regularly picking out bits is good hygiene and something you wanna get into the habit of

• My hair officially finished it’s transition into one solid shape, it still had defined follicles but if you tried to grab a strand of hair the rest would try to come with it

• People also started to ask me who dyed my hair, please note it’s always funny to say “it’s the way Goo-d made me” in response to this

12-24 months

• This window is larger than the others because all you’re going to notice from now on are the big changes

• Avoid tanktops past 14 months, your arms should be entirely translucent at this point and while having a buncha stuff floating around in my goo is kinda gender for me, people generally do not like to see slightly dissolved organs and ribcage

• 14 months was also when I noticed that my arm bones had entirely disappeared, my leg bones were also just barely holding in there, moving without bones was so freeing

• if you ever want anyone you know to stick their fingers in your slime, now’s probably the first time anyone's willing to stick their fingers far into your arms and legs, try to get them to wiggle their fingers. if they’re really adventurous they’ll stick their whole arm through to the other side, which still makes me a little squeamish

• Now that we’re at the part where I was mostly slime, we should probably talk about slime color. I’m going to dispel this misinformation, there is no way to find out what color a slimegirl is going to be before she starts transitioning. Some people say its eye color but that’s a lie. I am naturally a blue slime girl but my eyes pretransition were green. To dispel another myth you can dye yourself with food coloring, so you don’t even really have to stress about it

• By 18 months the only part of me that wasn’t slime was my head, the skull takes the longest time to dissolve because you’re doing the skull and all the organs in there all at once, see the human body really really wants to keep the brain safe, so when your brain gets the signal to get rid of your bones, it just does it all at once

• Some people say their eyesight got better, tho that seems to be anecdotal (mine stayed the same sadly)

• 18 months is also when I started experimenting with my shape. This was probably the most frustrating part of it for me, shapeshifting your goo is like a muscle, the more you do it the easier it’ll get. If you want a specific shape, spend enough time in it, and it’ll become your default shape, though you’ll never forget your original shape.

• 24 months is the last point I want to cover, by 24 months I was 100% liquid, the heavy viscosity from early transition leads to something closer to a liquid jello. I can detach parts of my body and then move to replace it, and I can reabsorb the parts I leave behind

• Clothes should rest just on the surface of you, though I know a lot of girls just change themselves to look clothed (probably more than you think ;)

• Suspenders and heavy cardigans break surface tension for me, luckily that's also a cute look so sometimes I match my cardigan with overalls for an aquarium effect on the overall straps

• This was also when I stopped breathing and going to the bathroom

• Some people report “knowing” when certain parts of their brain turn into goo, I didn’t experience that but it certainly could happen

Things I didn’t know where else they would fit

• I feel like a lot of this post was mainly dry, so in the interest of avoiding having a dry slime girl post, this section will mostly just be slime things that brought me joy

• I love speaking in slime puns, I keep a little book of slime puns and slant rimes just in case the slime arises that i would ever ooze some

• Being out in the rain or being out on a windy day is so much better when you can feel your entire body move in the wind, in particular go out on a rainy day without anything on, and lay down on the ground, the rain rippling through your entire body is heavenly

• Speaking of weather, when I first noticed I was refracting light on a sunny day I almost started crying, I felt so pretty and right :)

• I said I stopped needing to use the bathroom, but I still do siphon off some goo once a month. Mostly this is to get out bits of trash that accumulate and also because it feels exactly like taking a shower after a hard sweaty day’s work

• Speaking of bits, get a powerful magnet and metal shaving and you could probably waste a whole day just moving metal shavings through your body

• This might be a bit late in the guide for this, but when my arms finally turned I pulled a great prank on my at the time girlfriend by sticking my hand into a blender (do not do this if you still have bones, or value your girlfriend not being really really mad at you)

So that's all you need to know before starting frt, becoming the slime of your dreams is a difficult and beautiful process. I know a lot of what i described here might be frightening but if it sounds enticing at all know that it’s worth it.

[writingsofwesteros]

Hii! I love your fics and I was wondering if you could do a fic where the stark family gets really yandere over their new step mother after catelyn dies and bed marries her. Like all the children ( including Jon and theon ) are just obsessed with their new mother and ned is like sickly in love with her too ?

AN: Hi, I hope you like it x

Ned did not think it was possible for him to love another; not after Cat. He had not expected to lose her nor had the children, he imagined. He had thought with the many heirs that littered his halls; the Lords would not speak of another wife. Nor did he think such intense emotions would be felt by him for his new bride. His thoughts were soon falling from his mind as the soft hands of hers moved to his larger, more muscled shoulders. “Your mind is too loud.” She sweetly whispered into his ear that nearly had Ned’s eyes falling shut. Ned only hummed; his head falling back as he looked up at her. Her hands slowly moved up and down his chest.

“You worry too much.” Ned could only silently agree, not that he would ever tell his pretty, new wife such things. “I know something that would quieten this mind..” Ned replied in his deep, gruff tone that sent shivers down her spine. “Do you?” His wife pressed another kiss behind his ear before moving down his neck. Ned greedily captured her soft lips with his own; his larger hand gently moving to the back of her head as the kiss only deepened. A soft gasp escaped her when the Lord pushed his tongue to dance with her own; her mouth watering taste was incredibly addicted. It was why he spent many nights between her legs for hours.

His free hand slowly moved up her side; the feel of her warmth and curves had his fat cock twitching in his breeches. “Ned…” She whispered as she leaned away; fighting to catch her breath as a soft pink blush moved over her cheeks. Their noses brushed together as he slowly moved to stand; his body crowding her with ease. A soft smile tugged on her lips as he leaned in once more. Unfortunately, the sounds of children came closer. The large, wooden door of their shared chambers were easily pushed open as Sansa and Arya led the pack. Gracefully, his wife removed himself from her side; arms already open to collect Rickon who was already racing ahead with laughter. 

His wife’s laughter joined Rickon's, a harmonious blend of joy that seemed to lighten the very air in the room. Just as she had brought such light to his life and thankfully had welcomed his children into her heart. Her fingers brushed through the boy’s hair and kept him close as Rickon only wrapped his arms around her tightly. She placed him with ease on her hip as his hand clutched the small wooden wolf that was his most prized possession. “I thought you were trying to sleep, hmm?” She whispered into his ear as Sansa gently reached for her hand to hold. “There is a storm.” Rickon whined into her ear as she looked over to Ned whose smile couldn’t help but grow wider at the sight in front of him.

“A storm, you say?” she murmured soothingly into Rickon's ear, her voice a comforting balm. “No storm can hurt you while we’re all together.” She began to play with Sansa’s hand as Robb stepped closer; pressing a soft kiss to her cheek before ruffling Rickon’s shaggy head and the boy could only giggle out before snuggling into her neck once more. “The storm is not trying to scare you.” Ned watched as she so sweetly comforted his child whilst his own desire to give her one of her own began to build. 

~

“Theon has never left her side this morning,” Jon complained as he lent against the wooden fence; the whipping of arrows flew close to his ear. Robb only chuckled as his arrow landed in the middle as it always did. “Are you jealous, brother?” He could not help but tease as he moved to reach for another set of arrows. His smirk only widened as he noticed the soft blush coming over Jon’s face. “Oh, you know you are her favourite.” Jon only glared in silence as the soft laughter of hers echoed in the courtyard once more. It was a familiar sound now. He watched as she softly ruffled Theon’s hair who ducked his head even as he leaned into the affectionate touch. 

It was not long before Ned returned from his morning duties and Jon could not keep his smirk off his face at the sight of Theon stepping away; if only slightly. “Ned…” She breathed out in greeting; her eyes full of warmth as the Lord of Winterfell stepped forward. His hand reached for hers instantly before pressing a soft kiss to the back of her hand. She moved into his side; his presence was always a welcomed one especially as she still was not used to the cold air. Ned smirked into her hair and pressed another soft kiss as his larger hand moved up and down her back. “You have returned early.” His wife commented as he locked eyes with her; his figure towering over her which she would never admit to enjoying so much.

Ned only smirked; he could not possibly admit that he cut the hunt short to return to his new wife’s side. Not that his bannermen and Lords had judged him for it, in matter of fact, they had been brave enough to tease him. “I do believe the children are in the kitchens.” Ned whispered into her ear as the boys below continued their training. His sons had seemingly found a new source of energy and competitiveness, it seemed. “They wanted to bake a cake for you.” Ned continued as she hooked her arm around his. “I imagine we will find a mess,” She giggled sweetly up at her husband but happiness completely wrapped around her. She had never thought she would be welcomed as she has done.

Ned's heart warmed at the sight of his wife’s smile, her joy contagious. He couldn’t resist another gentle kiss on her temple, savouring the simple pleasure of her presence. “I believe we should find them.” Ned whispered; his hand moving to her lower back protectively. “Goodbye boys,” She called over her shoulder as her smile only widened at them. The sight of the three of them trying to be in view as Theon’s arrow fell off the mark was amusing for Ned to witness as he gently guided his wife to the kitchens.

[cobaltperun]

Hi! I saw that you’re taking requests and I have a rough idea. I was wondering if you could write a fic with Lorraine day and a {G!P} reader who’s a masc fem as well. I was thinking the reader is a ranch hand who works for Lorraine’s parents. Lorraine does films with the people from the X movie and comes home when they aren’t filming. Reader has always been in love with Lorraine since they were children but never confessed due to fear of losing Lorraine. I was wondering if you could do a mix of fluff, angst and smut with a happy ending :)

About Time

Bottom Lorraine Day x Top G!P Female Reader (Smut - minors do not interact) (Request)

Masterlist

A/N: Before I start, there are already a few stories that more or less did the base idea in the request, the childhood friends, working at her parents’ farm thing, so I changed that part. Anyway, this is my final Lorraine story, ever. When I reopen requests again, she won’t be on the list, I just feel like I did everything I could with her. On to the story!

Word count: 2.6k

Regret.

That and frustration was all Lorraine felt right now. Why couldn’t he understand?

“You’re really staying?” RJ demanded once again, exasperated by her choice.

It was too hot to argue outside, yet here she was, refusing to go with RJ and the rest of her coworkers to film another movie.

“Y/N is sick, I am not leaving her,” she put her foot down, glaring at her ex-boyfriend. He couldn’t handle her acting in the movies and here they were, reluctantly working together because neither of them wanted to quit just as things were starting to go a bit better.

He watched her, opening his mouth to speak several times before throwing his hands up in the air and going to the van. “Don’t blame us when this movie blows up! Blame your childhood friend!” his tone turned mocking as he said ‘childhood friend’ and Lorraine clenched her fist to stop herself from reacting. At least he was finally accepting her decision and leaving, after almost half an hour of arguing back and forth.

Lorraine sighed, watching the van drive away before she went inside your house. You did some renovations since the last time she came here, you added wooden fence to the stairs, and by the looks of it you made that yourself. Lorraine walked through the old house, her fingers gliding over the various things you made and put together, the bookshelf, the cupboard, the fence, you knew how to work with wood.

You were in your bedroom, asleep, sick, the fever keeping you in bed over the past two days. The doctor came by yesterday, prescribing medicine and instructing you to rest. Lorraine knew you, though, she knew you wouldn’t rest unless someone forced you to. So, she stayed, pulling the chair closer to your side and sitting down. You were shivering despite the blankets you were tucked underneath, and yet you were drenched in sweat. For the first time in years you looked fragile, at least in front of Lorraine.

When she came back a week ago the two of you met to catch up, and you lifted her up like she weighed nothing, You were strong, your muscles forged by all the labor you did, and Lorraine never imagined she would see you looking like this, stuck in bed because of a fever. Against her better judgment, she sat down next to you, reached over and caressed your cheek before grabbing a towel and wiping off the sweat from your face and neck.

Seeing you like this only brought back the feelings she tried to bury when you were kids, how could she love you as anything more than her childhood friend? But she’s seen enough teasing glances from her female costars and enough annoyed and angry looks on RJ’s face to know she didn’t do a good enough job when she buried them. She didn’t dig a hole deep enough to hide what she felt, maybe deep down she didn’t want to do that…

~X~

It was hot, burning hot, everything felt heavy, your limbs, your head, your entire body felt like it was heavier than a slab of iron. Your eyelids alone must have weighed a ton, but you somehow managed to open them. You were met with darkness, illuminated only by the moonlight and dim lamplight. Who turned that on?

A sound of breathing caught your attention, and you winced as you turned your head to the side. Lorraine was sleeping on the chair next to your bed and you closed your eyes.

As if.

This was just another fever dream. She was long gone probably, going off to film another movie. With that thought in your head you closed your eyes and let the fever force you back to sleep.

Just for a moment, one tiny brief moment, you did let yourself think of Lorraine, you dared to allow that thought, that maybe it wasn’t a fever dream to invade your mind. You loved her, you just never told her, fearing you would ruin your friendship. Fearing you would speak up and be rejected and then pushed away because, well, Lorraine wasn’t like that. She wasn’t into you, she was into men.

And more than the rejection, the expected ‘no’ and unrequited love, you feared she would find it weird to ever be around you again. Sure, she openly told you she had nothing against same-sex relationships, and that she, in fact, supported everyone having a right to choose their partner. Still, those were other people, loving other people. Not her childhood best friend loving her.

~X~

When you woke up the next time you felt much better, with the temperature being more bearable. You sat up and saw Lorraine leaning on the chair, clearly uncomfortable, but sleeping nonetheless. Your eyes widened as you realized it wasn’t some fever dream whenever you woke up before. “Lorraine?” you spoke up, though your throat was a bit too dry, causing your voice to come out really raspy.

It was enough though, as she stirred and woke up. She blinked a few times as if she couldn’t believe you were awake and sitting up. “Oh, thank God, you’re awake!” she jumped into your arms, kissing your cheek and hugging you tighter than ever before. “You’re awake,” she whispered as you finally got over your shock and hugged her back.

“Easy, Raine, I’m okay,” you tried to help her but she just shook her head.

“It’s Friday night, you idiot,” she told you making you pull away to look at her, just to see if she was joking.

“But then,” you stammered, Lorraine was supposed to leave on Tuesday, so that meant you spent most of the week sick, and you didn’t remember anything.

“You’d wake up for a bit, but it never lasted,” she sobbed and you started vaguely remembering those moments, you managed to do the bare minimum to take care of yourself, but it was all a blur, like your body just did that because it had to.

“Sorry,” you pulled her into a hug. “I made you worry,” she didn’t say anything, just held you as close as she could and though you hated that you made her worry, you couldn’t deny you were happy she stayed by your side.

~X~

A few days later you made a full recovery, and were busy cooking a dinner as a way to thank Lorraine for looking after you, you made sure to include all the things she loved. She took care of you, and she missed out on a movie for you, so you felt like you should do at least this much for her. You set up the table, just as she knocked on your doors and let herself in.

“That smells amazing,” she took a deep breath and came up to you. “You didn’t need to make all of this,” she kissed your cheek while she held your hand.

“You didn’t have to stay by my side either,” you countered, pulling the chair out for her.

Lorraine looked at you as she sat down, she was still holding your hand and you found yourself getting lost in her eyes. “I was so afraid I was about to lose you,” she said, yet again, though she did calm down a lot when you began rapidly recovering.

You went behind her and hugged her, and much like you did so many times when you were kids you rested your chin on her shoulder. “It takes more than that to get rid of me,” you laughed, but your laughter was short-lived as Lorraine touched your cheek and turned your head a bit to the side. She looked down at your lips and you swallowed the lump in your throat when you realized just how close you were.

“Lorraine,” you hoped, you really hoped you weren’t reading this wrong as you leaned a bit closer to her.

“I love you,” she whispered, closing the distance and pressing her lips against yours. Her soft lips, gentle touch of her hand against your cheek, it felt right, it felt like it was about time for this to happen.

And you kissed her back, ferociously, needing to satisfy the craving you’ve had for years now. You kept one arm around her waist while you moved your other arm up, your fingers sliding up from her neck to her chin, to her hair, touching her, committing every single detail of her face to memory through touch alone.

“I love you too, I’ve loved you for years,” you said when you separated.

Lorraine leaned her forehead against your shoulder. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

You sighed, suddenly feeling stupid. “I didn’t want to ruin our friendship,” you explained making the girl snort.

“We’re both so stupid,” she returned your feelings, she loved you back, and she was being held back by the same fear.

~X~

You took the relationship slow, sweet dates, walks, holding hands and stealing occasional kisses, just slowly going from best friends to lovers. Though, lately you’ve been having some troubles keeping your hands away from one another, so the slow pace was likely going to change sooner rather than later.

The two of you were snuggled up on the couch watching a movie you rented until Lorraine moved until she was straddling you. “The movie?” you smirked a bit, though, in her defense, it was a surprisingly boring movie.

“I’d rather spend time doing something else,” she said before kissing your cheek.

“Yeah? Like?” you wanted to let her dictate the pace between the two of you, for her to take the first step toward more intimate sides of a relationship, for her to be comfortable before anything happened. So, instead of sneaking a hand beneath her clothes you just hugged her, slowly caressing her back as you did so.

“Mhm,” she hummed in your ear and left kisses down to your neck. You closed your eyes and leaned your head back as she sucked on a rather sensitive spot on your neck. “How about we have a bit of fun,” she suggested as she toyed with the hem of your shirt.

You raised your head to look her in the eyes. “Sex?” you guessed, your fingers twitching against her, and Lorraine just nodded, kissing you deeply and gently pushing her tongue past your lips. Well, if she was sure, you weren’t about to deny her. You lightly sucked on her tongue and lifted her shirt up, just enough to slip your hands under it and touch her bare skin.

She separated from you with a gasp, and she pulled your shirt over your head. “I’ve wanted this for a long time, lately whenever I’m filming sex scenes, I imagine you’re the one doing it to me,” her hand moved down your body and cupped your gradually hardening cock, damn, you nearly forgot she knew about it.

Was it a bit unusual to hear her say that and be turned on? Maybe. But it was the job she chose, and you weren’t about to make a fuss about it, as long as she came back home to you, as long as you felt her love for you in every kiss you shared you would support her, every step of the way. You flipped the two of you around and laid Lorraine down on the couch and took over, kissing her neck as you slowly lifted her shirt, hissing when her thumbs brushed over your nipples. “Where’s the rush?” you teased while nibbling on her neck, but she was absolutely in a rush as she tugged your pants down to release your cock. “Lorraine,” you grunted, fighting between wanting to rush this, and taking it slow.

She began stroking your cock, moaning softly in your ear as you cupped her breast and pushed your thigh between her legs. “Y/N,” she hissed as she rocked her hips back and forth, rubbing against your thigh.

You remained like that, tangled up, exploring each other’s body, taking and giving pleasure to one another. Losing the remaining clothes in the lust and passion, until you were no longer sure if you were burning up from the heat of the summer night, or from her skin pressed against your own, but you suspected it was due to Lorraine. Due to her hands, clawing at your back when you teasingly nibbled on her nipple, or her fingers pinching your nipples, or grabbing your ass and pulling you closer. Or if it was due to her lips, latching onto any part of you she could reach, or her tongue, dragging up from your chest to your neck. Or if it was the feel of her body in your arms, her back arching, her stiff nipples and supple breasts pressing against you, her muscles twitching at a touch she didn’t fully expect, or her warm pussy occasionally grinding on your cock. Maybe it was just her moans, whines, whimpers, all the small and quiet, or loud and unapologetic noises she made, or the way she said your name, causing shivers to go up our spine and your cock to twitch.

And before you knew it, before you could even take your time to understand just how long the two of you spent on the couch, making love and building everything up toward the next part, you felt her sliding a condom over your rock-hard cock. You weren’t even aware she had it, but damn were you thankful for it.

Lorraine spread her lower lips and kissed you softly, grinding against you and spreading her wetness over your cock before you pushed inside, taking her for the very first time. “Fuck!” you cried out, feeling her walls clamping around your cock, pulling you in as Lorraine peppered small kisses all over your neck and shoulders.

“That’s it, give me all you’ve got,” she grabbed onto your arms, her fingers digging into your muscles as you slowly began trusting into her tight, wet, pussy. “Oh, Y/N!” she moaned, accidentally biting you on the neck a bit harder than she meant as you tucked an arm under her back and changed the angle, repeatedly rubbing against her G-spot with every thrust.

“Right there, hm?” you couldn’t lie, you felt quite a bit of pride at making her react like this, especially when you moved your other hand to her breasts. She writhed in your arms, buried her face in the crook of your neck, all the while rubbing her clit with her fingers. The sound of skin slapping together, the feel of her soft palm guiding you into another deep, sensual kiss, only for her to break it as she came only spurred you on. You looked her in the eyes, searching for any clue that you should stop, but there wasn’t one, so, while you stared into each other’s eyes you kept thrusting into her, chasing your own orgasm and hoping to make her come once more.

Judging by her expression, she was close, and you felt her chest rising and falling with each deep breath she took.

Lorraine wrapped her legs around your waist eventually, and kept you locked in place, as deep inside her as you could be as she trembled in your arms, a soundless gasp escaping past her lips as she came for the second time, pushing you over the edge as well.

The two of you separated as you pulled out and she just hugged you, holding you close as your minds and bodies settled down from the slightly unexpected, at least for you, experience.

[pretending-ican-write]

Cowboy Up - Pt.1 - Ryan x Dutton!reader

Um so I watched all of Yellowstone last week and as a result, my multi-year writer's block was broken by a need to see more of Ryan because I am obsessed with Ian Bohen. Idk how many parts this will have or how often it will get updated as I'm in the last few months of uni but I hope y'all enjoy!

Pairing: Ryan (Yellowstone) x Dutton!Reader (Kayce's twin sister)

WC: 1053

Next part

Disclaimer: Beyond watching Yellowstone I have zero/little knowledge of Western riding and the ranching lifestyle but I do know horses so that has certainly influenced this! I'm also English so writing dialogue correctly for them is not my strong point! If you find any issues please let me know!

---

The sun was just beginning to dip below the mountains and the cold was starting to set in when she joined him on the fence.  Neither of them spoke for a while, just looking out at the vastness in front of them, all that was theirs but came with so many conditions.  

Eventually she broke the silence, “so you told him?  How’d he take that one?”

Wordlessly he opened his shirt where the ‘Y’ was just starting to scab over, still red and angry.

“Motherfucker,” she swore, “this ain’t fair Kayce.  He doesn’t just get to do this.”

He shook his head, “dad does whatever he wants and there ain’t no consequences for him.  That’s why I gotta do this.”

“Shit man.  What’s Monica gonna do?  Besides worrying about you getting your ass shot in the desert miles from civilisation?”

Kayce chuckled, “beats getting my ass shot in the middle of Montana miles from civilisation.  She’ll be okay, her family will help and she’ll be a teacher.  Just like she planned.  It’s you I’m worried about here with dad and no one else to speak sense to.  ‘Cept Lee”

“Well I’m leaving, dad be damned.  I’m not gonna be a pawn in his power trip.  Gonna go see this godforsaken country and win it all so that when I come back he can’t question whether it’s where I wanna be,” she declared.

Her brother rolled his eyes, “you ain’t talking about the same him now.”

“I don’t know what your talking about,” she denied, staring out at the darkened mountains.

Kayce shoved her shoulder, “you can’t bullshit to me y/n.  That’s the one problem with being twins, ain’t no way to lie to me.”

“I’m just a kid to him, he ain’t ever gonna see me any other way if I stay here,” she admitted, “hell if I stay here no one will ever see me as anything more than his kid.  ‘S why we both gotta do this Kayce.”

He nodded, “no way to stand in the sun in this state, always gonna be a shadow.”

“When I come back I’ll be able to stand in sunlight so bright I’ll have a fucking halo.”

-/-/-

2 years later…

 Montana has its charms all year round, but fall has a particular appeal.  The leaves had started to turn, there was a chill in the air that only seemed to get  stronger and there was still a frost on the grass that the sun hadn’t hit.  

With the sun keeping the cold from their bones, the Yellowstone ranch hands were occupying themselves keeping their roping skills fresh.  Rip observed from the sidelines as the new hand struggled to keep up with Ryan who turned to lecture the kid about keeping his eye on the steer.  

Lloyd rolled his eyes when he missed the horns again, “you gotta try harder than that if you wanna be a wrangler!”

“He keeps pulling the damn steer too early,” the hand argued back.

Ryan glared at him, “don’t fuckin’ blame me for your bad skills.”

Before they could descend into an all out brawl, the group were distracted by the sound and sight of truck coming down the road.  They watched it pull up in front of the barn, trailer in tow.  A rare silence occupied them as they watched a young woman step out, adjust her hat then stare out across the ranch in front of her.

“Well I’ll be damned,” Lloyd muttered, “she’s back.  You fuckin’ know about this?”

Rip said nothing, but his face gave the answer.  The other hands who recognised her muttered between themselves about what she was doing back after so long.

The new hand leaned over towards Ryan, “who the fuck is that and why does everybody care?”

“That is y/n Dutton,” he answered without taking his eyes off of her.

“I didn’t know John had another daughter,” he responded.

Ryan shook his head, “hell kid you gotta lot to learn about this place.”

“She’s fuckin’ hot mind,” the hand murmered.

The older hand spat out his words, “you keep words like that off your tongue if you want to keep it.”

Lee stepped out of the barn and stepped around the truck to greet her, “the prodigal daughter returns.”

“I don’t see Beth anywhere,” she laughed bitterly, “but it’s good to see you Lee.”

He hugged her, “I’m glad you’re back.  Been a long time coming.”

“I came back for me, not for him remember that,” she turned towards the corral, “think I’ve given them enough of a show to explain it so they can pick their jaws up off the floor?”

He gestured for her to follow him towards where the ranch hands were all still quietly watching.  She strode over to the group, smiling at Rip who nodded back at her.

“Where’s that mare of yours?” He asked.

Y/n shrugged, “a champion barrel horse would be wasted on this ranch.  Sold her for more money than I’m ever gonna earn in the rest of my lifetime.”

“You ain’t rodeoing anymore?” Lloyd questioned.

“I did what I set out to do when I went on the circuit.  Saw this godforsaken country and won it all.  It’d get boring to win it over again,” she moved her gaze towards where Ryan was watching her, “ain’t no one gonna question where I wanna be now.”

Rip nodded, “afraid we ain’t got a horse to spare for you y/n.”

“I got that covered Rip.  Got one coming up tomorrow from a ranch in Wyoming.  Some fuckin’ old school boys who don’t know how to be nice to a horse they didn’t ruin,” she explained, “man’s wife broke it and now she’s dead ain’t no one gonna ride him gentle.  Figured he might stand a chance with me.”

Lloyd chuckled, “always were a soft hand.  Figured that’s how you won it all.”

“Guess that question that remains is, do you have a place for me?  Not in the house but here,” she clarified.

Lee looked at Rip then back at his sister, “I reckon so.  You gonna stay in the bunkhouse?”

“Oh fuck no,” y/n laughed, “I didn’t drag that thing all the way from Texas to sleep with these fuckheads.  It’s looked after me in worse places.  Think it’ll do just fine here.”

[alittlebitofloveliness]

It’s not until he’s already whaling on the kid that Paul realises exactly who it is he’s decided to jump.

He’d been out for a drive with Ty, shooting the shit and showing off the new Camaro his dad bought him for his birthday when they spotted the greaser kid- a guy with slicked back reddish brown hair, small but tough looking like all the kids from the east side, walking alone down one of the back roads. One look and a grin shared with Ty was all it took before he was shooting down the street, forcing the kid to jump into the ditch or risk getting run over.

Ty had laughed, mirth shining in his handsome green eyes as the greaser sprang to his feet, swearing colourfully. Paul wasn’t gonna pretend to have any sort of love for the east side, but he couldn’t deny that greaser folk didn’t turn out any sissies. For all the kid probably wasn’t more than fourteen, his greyish eyes didn’t show a trace of fear. Annoyance more than anything, and something that looked like…recognition, maybe? Didn’t matter much. What came next was the fun part- greasers didn’t break easy. It was always fun to see how much they could take before they finally started crying for their mothers.

In the time it took for Paul and Tson to get out of the car, the greaser had snatched up a broken beer bottle and leaned into a defensive slouch.

“Hey Buddy,” Ty grinned.

“Fuck off.” The kid spat, gripping the bottle tighter. Paul took a step closer to him and…there! The kid’s eyes- which had been laser focused on him and Ty- flashed left. 

“Not so fast,” Paul stepped sideways, effectively boxing the kid in. In the ditch, with a barbed wire fence from an old farm at his back, the camaro blocking any escape to the right, Ty in front of him, and now Paul at his left, the kid was well and truly trapped. Paul could see the moment he realized it, a flash of unease flitting over his face before smoothing into a tough mask once more.

“You know Ty,” Paul said, “I think this kid needs to learn some manners. And I think we should teach them to him. What do you think?”

Ty grinned. “Y’know Paul, I think you’re right.”

The kid spat at him. Saliva dripped down Ty’s face, his friend apparently too stunned to do anything but blink at him. 

The greaser snickered.

Paul lunged. 

For all the kid’s bravado and tough facade, even with that bottle in his hand, he’s still just a kid. Paul is twenty now, a linebacker for the University of Alabama, not afraid of a kid who could swing a bottle but not hard enough. He’s got him down in a second. 

The first punch shatters the kid’s nose, blood immediately pouring down his face. It still takes two more hits before he starts screaming. When he does, Paul’s blood runs cold

“Darry!” The kid, no longer tough looking by any means, cries out, “Darry help! Darry!”

The name, torn from the past Paul had worked so hard to forget, pulls him up short. He remembers now, Darry Curtis always speaking with fond exasperation about his two little brothers, about how one of them always tracked mud through the house and drove their mother crazy, and the other one climbed trees and got stuck in them because he couldn’t remember how to get down.

He also remembers the time Darry found out someone was picking on his brother, the one who was a freshman back when they were seniors. They practically had to peel the guy off the pavement when Darry was done with him.

Shit.

There’s a lot of things he remembers about Darry Curtis. He can’t decide whether they make him wish he’d punched the kid harder or never punched him at all.

The kid, Darry’s little brother, takes advantage of Paul’s brief distraction, bucking his hips and rolling. It’s a good maneuver, one that probably would have managed to throw Paul off if it weren’t for Ty grabbing the kid’s hair and slamming his head back against the ground.

Ty starts punching him then, and all Paul can do is sit there half frozen, seeing Darry’s eyes in someone else's face, his sharp jawline framing someone else’s mouth, his weird, sticking out ears on someone else’s head, all the features beat to a bloody pulp.

And all the while the kid keeps screaming.

“Darry! Soda! Help! Johnny, Steve, Dally, anyone! Please! Darry!”

It’s too much. Whatever he and Darry once had, whatever happened between them, no matter how bad it ended, it shouldn’t have come to this. There shouldn’t be a mixture of dark satisfaction and soul crushing guilt warring in his heart at the sight of Darry’s brother bloody and bruised. 

Ty’s fist raises once again and the kid on the ground flinches, cries.

Paul reaches out to grab Ty’s shoulder, to tell him it’s enough, that they should get out of here, to escape from the memories and the guilt and the rage.

He never gets a chance.

“‘Hey asshole!” Before he can grab Ty’s shoulder someone else grabs his shoulder and punches him hard enough he feels his teeth rattle in his skull. He stumbles back, clutching his cheek and looks up into the coldest eyes he’s ever seen, a glittering, intelligent, blue-so-deep-it’s-black shining with malice. A thick scar peeks out of his attacker’s hairline, but other than that the guy’s smooth brown skin is largely unmarked, features handsome in a dangerous sort of way. His head tilts, the way a cat’s might before it pounces on its prey, as he pulls a switchblade from his pocket, clicking it open. The handle is worn but the blade is no joke, six inches of razor sharp steel, glittering in the sunlight. 

Paul gulps. He’s not stupid enough to bring fists to a knife fight and he sure as hell doesn't have a blade on him.

The guy notices because he grins, revealing pearly white teeth and canines just a bit sharper than the average person’s.

Paul opens his mouth, to say what exactly he isn’t sure, but before he can he’s interrupted by a scream. Except this time it’s not the kid’s- it’s Ty’s.

He whirls with a gasp to see Darry Curtis on top of Ty, knuckles already bloody from hitting him so hard. Beside them, the greaser kid has managed to pull himself to his knees, an impressive feat considering the state he’s in.

Questions and emotions swirl through Paul’s head so fast he feels dizzy. How could Darry have snuck up on them so fast and so quietly? Did he really hear the kid screaming? Who’s the guy with him?

The guy with him…

His distraction is his fatal mistake, because he turned his back on the guy with the knife, who has him in a headlock with a blade against his throat before he can so much as yell.

“So,” the guy with the knife says in his ear. He’s disarmingly casual, for all he could kill Paul at any moment if he so chose, “you’re the famous Paul, huh?”

Fear, cold and paralyzing, floods through him.

“How the fuck do you know my name?”

The guy with the knife chuckles, grabbing him by the hair and forcing him to watch as Ty’s face gets bloodier and bloodier, his handsome features turned into a crime scene. There’s an almost animalistic rage in Darry’s eyes, a look Paul’s only seen once before, and he knows that when Darry pulls his punches it will only be because he feels justice has been served.

“I know everythin’ that happens in this town,” the knife at his neck doesn’t waver so much as an iota, as his captor laughs again, “and I heard a lot about you Paul Holden. Football star but never good enough to be captain. A bigger petty thief than half us east side boys, but daddy always bought you out of it. And apparently a big fan of jumping little kids- y’know, like a coward.”

Paul growls, trying to twist loose from the guy’s hold, but the greaser is stronger than his wiry frame belies, and he’s still got the advantage of a knife in hand. He presses it close enough that a small bead of blood wells against the steel and Paul stops struggling.

“Maybe I am a coward,” Paul grits out, panting, whether from fear or exertion he doesn’t know, “but Darry Curtis isn’t any braver than me.”

The knife bites into his neck a tad deeper. 

“Darry isn’t the one who just jumped a little kid.”

Paul grins. “That’s not what I meant.”

“You’re full of shit.” The guy’s voice is as measured and cool as ever, but the grip on Paul’s hair tightens painfully and he knows he’s hit a nerve.

“Maybe,” Paul admits, “but I’m not wrong. You’re his new guy, right? Well he fucks good but he’ll betray you in the end, just like he did me-”

A burning flash and his cheek is suddenly pouring blood.

“Watch. Your. Mouth.” The guy snarls, “Or next time I won’t just cut your pretty face I'll cut your damn throat.” 

Paul falls silent, not willing to call his bluff. Mostly because he isn’t entirely sure the guy is bluffing. Whoever Darry’s got himself mixed up with now is a whole lot more dangerous to him and probably for him than Paul ever was.

Figures.

He focuses back on Ty and Darry’s fight. Darry’s got a black eye and a small cut on his temple, so apparently Ty has managed to fight back a little, but he’s still a lot worse off, still pinned by Darry, face a twisted mess of what it once was.

“Darry,” the kid has managed to stumble to his feet, the eye that isn’t already swollen shut, wide and horrified, “Darry stop. C’mon, that’s enough, you're gonna kill him.”

Paul sees the moment Darry comes back to himself, watches as the feral look in his eyes melts into concern and pain so deep it would have cut twelfth grade Paul to the bone. Hell, it does something to him now.

“He deserves it, Ponyboy,” Darry says, “look what he did to your face!”

“I’m fine Dar,” the kid tries for a grin, but the blood in his teeth defeats the point of any sort of reassurance, “let’s just go home. Ain’t like he’s gonna try anything now.”

On the ground, Ty moans something incomprehensible. Shit, Paul’s going to have to take him to a hospital when they get out of this.

“Yeah,” Darry nods like he’s trying to convince himself, “yeah okay. Go ahead an’ git in the car okay? Me’n Tim’ll be there in a second.”

He’s talking full grease, the way he always used to when he was real upset, and Paul can’t help the satisfaction that runs through him at the sound of it. 

“Ok, just…don’t do anythin’ you’ll regret,” the kid starts limping in the direction of a beat up pickup truck Paul hadn’t noticed before, casting wary glances over his shoulder the whole time. He’s lifted the hem of his shirt to press against his nose but it doesn’t seem to be doing much to staunch the flow of blood.

Paul looks back at Darry and finds himself staring into the coldest eyes he’s ever seen. He used to think those eyes were beautiful, back in high school, when they twinkled with mirth or glittered with determination. Some part of him acknowledges that they’re still beautiful now, even filled with hatred. 

They stare at each other for a moment, Darry standing over the body of Paul’s new best friend who they both know is probably more than that, Paul with Darry’s new lover's knife held tight against his neck.

In those seconds he remembers everything they ever were, ever fought for, fought because of, why he left. He remembers meeting Darry in eighth grade and immediately being drawn to him in a way he could never properly explain. He remembers the first time they kissed, in tenth grade, the fear that had gripped him but the longing that had claimed him, making terror a backseat to passion. He remembers two years of dreaming, days and nights, soft lips and warm hands and a body like a greek god, remembers when longing gave way to love. He remembers screaming and fighting and words neither of them could ever take back. Remembers leaving. Remembers regretting it. Remembers trying to go back and Darry refusing him. Remembers heartbreak. Remembers rage.

Darry punches him.

Pain blooms across his jaw and he swears he feels a tooth crack, the only thing stopping him from hitting the ground the fact that Darry’s guy still has him in a vicelike grip.

“If you ever,” Darry spits through gritted teeth, and there’s no forgiveness in those eyes, no nostalgia, only hate, “lay a finger on my little brother again, I swear to god I’ll kill you.”

He won’t, Paul knows, because Darry is and always has been too good for this earth, and that hasn’t changed even if he now wears anger the way he used to wear arrogance- but he isn’t going to test that theory. There’s plenty of other greaser kids to jump that don’t come with dredging up the worst memories of his past.

Darry gives him one last disgusted look and spits at his feet, before his gaze slides to Paul’s captor. Tim, Darry had called him earlier.

“Ready to go?” The ever so slight softness in Darry’s eyes when he looks at Tim- crazy fucking Tim who is holding Paul at knifepoint- shouldn’t bother him nearly as much as it does. The fact that it bothers him at all leaves a bitter twist in his stomach.

“Yeah,” Tim agrees, “I'll be there in a second. You go check on the kid, the way he was walkin’ I think he mighta sprained his ankle.”

Darry nods, concern lighting once more in his eyes, and he jogs over to the car, immediately shaking his kid brother awake who had fallen asleep against the window.

Tim’s knife skates over Paul's neck, not deepening the shallow cut, but definitely drawing it longer.

“Listen here Holden,” he practically croons, pulling Paul’s head back, “you and I both know Darry would never make good on his promise. I on the other hand,” the knife flashes and Tim opens yet another cut on his cheek. Paul howls. “Have no such qualms. So if you go near any of the Curtis boys ever again, I will kill you.” His voice softens, a murmur so low Paul can hardly hear it despite Tim being quite literally right beside him, “I’ve done it before. I know how to not get caught. So if you think for a second that I am lying…”

He turns Paul in his grip so they’re suddenly face to face. 

“Call my bluff.”

He shoves him, hard, and Paul stumbles back, landing hard on his ass beside Ty who seems only semi conscious, lying supine on the ground. 

Tim smiles, like he didn’t just threaten Paul’s life and confess to murder in the same breath, before turning on his heel and making his way over to the car, climbing into the driver's seat.

Paul’s past and his new bogeyman drive away and he sits in the ditch for a long time, too terrified- or maybe just too shocked- to move.

[eymie]

APPLE PIE !

pairing: william h. bonney x fem!reader

warnings: smut, fingering, oral (f receiving), PinV, pet names, softdom!billy, body worship, teasing, overstimulation, semi public,

summary: billy likes to play poker with your older brothers, now he's started to take a liking to you.

a/n: did not check for mistakes.

Billy knew your brothers. They hung around and played poker with him at the saloon, which was off limits to you. Neither your father or older brothers wanted you in there with the dirty old men that’d probably grab and flirt at you. Pulling you onto their laps.

But Billy caught your eye. Sometimes he’d stop by your family’s ranch, come see if your brothers were home. Maybe he needed a favor.

The way his deep brown hair was messy, and there was dust smeared on his nose and cheek. His clothes fitting just right.

You only ever ran into Billy a few times. Maybe you answered the door or saw him around town tying up his horse. Brief greetings, you were his friend’s little sister after all. You thought he was a bit shy but who were you to judge.

It was hotter out lately. Your mother ordering you to go check for fresh eggs in the chicken coops and to pick a few apples to make pies later.

Your heeled boots climbing up the wooden fence to reach the apples on the higher branches. The stool was in the barn and the fence was right there. You stretched up as far as you could to reach a perfectly ripe apple. You heard a deep voice behind you and fell back. A strong pair of arms catching you from behind.

“Gotta be more careful.” You recognized the voice immediately. Billy let go of you when you stabilized yourself on the grass. “Don’t you got a stool for that?”

“Well, it’s in the barn…” You looked up at him, admiring his blue eyes you had yet to notice before now. You’d never been this close to him.

“You should probably grab that. Don’t want you getting all muddied up.” He brushed some mud off your cheek with his thumb.

“Thanks Billy,” you mumbled stepping back a bit, stumbling over your feet. His cowboy hat shadowing his face from the summer. He hummed in response.

“Either of your brothers home?” He asked, pulling his hand away from you. He hadn’t noticed how pretty his closest friends little sister really was. “See, I gotta talk to them.”

“You could come in and wait.” Your face felt hot with embarrassment after you had said that. Flirting with this man you barely knew.

“Hmm, I don’t want to over stay my welcome.”

“You’re always welcome Billy.”

“I’ll help you carry those apples and eggs in.”

“Thank you.”

He followed you into the house. Your mother was on the back porch embroidering and your father was out. Your brothers were probably off in the saloon or elsewhere with your father.

Billy placed the basket on your table.

“I don’t know when they’ll be back.” You say to him, avoiding his gaze. He was so close to you. You’ve never felt this shy around a man before.

“I don’t mind at all, can’t stay long though.” He was, his calloused hand brushing your arm.

“Whys that?” You ask, moving your arm to feel him against your skin once again. You sounded so innocent talking to him. Knowing your intent was anything but that.

“Why I can’t stay long?” He asked, furrowing his brows. You watched his adam’s apple bobbed as he opened his mouth to speak again.

“No, why don’t you mind being alone with me.” You asked him, catching him off guard. Not expecting this surge of confidence within you.

“I think that’s self-explanatory.”

“I want you to explain.”

“I don’t mind spending time with a pretty girl like you.” Your heart rate sped up a bit. Heat rising to your face. Billy smiled at your flustered look.

“Billy, I like you.” You confessed, pulling his hand in with yours. His hands were bigger than yours, he was much taller too. You couldn't help but wonder how they'd feel inside of you.

“I see the way you look at me.” He stated, you let go of his hand looking back up at him embarrassed. You opened your mouth to speak but he cut you off before you could. “Shhh, I’m admiring you.”

You mouth opened, your stared into his blue eyes. A soft smile on his face as he looked down at you. He brought a hand to your cheek, his thumb rubbing your skin.

You pulled him down, your lips brushing each other before you pulled him in. Billy kissed like it was the last thing he’d ever do. No mans ever kissed you like this. His hands gripping at the fabric of your dress. Your hands entangled in the curls at the nape of his neck.

His body pushed you against the table, a moan escaping you lips. He groaned into the kiss in return. His tongue slipped past your lips, brushing against the tip of yours.

“Please,” you whispered against his kiss-swollen lips. His kisses trailed down your jawline and neck. Nipping at your skin. Your leaned your head to the side to give him better access. “Billy.”

He hummed against your skin, His fingers pulling at the buttons of your dress. You whined, pulling his hands off you. You prayed your mother was still distracted by her embroidering.

Billy reluctantly pulled away. His breathing was heavy as he stood over you, his hands on either side of your body. You felt his warm breath against your skin, his bottom lip brushing your forehead.

“Billy, I want you.” You whispered in his neck. The back of your dress partially unbuttoned.

“I reckon you got a room.” He mumbles and you nod. He pulls back, releasing you from his cage. Your hand pulling him down the hall to your room. It was the smallest room in the house, the window outlooking the pasture.

Billy had pushed the door shut, he didn't waiting to push you onto your small bed. Allowing him to unbutton the rest of your dress. He doesn't bother yet with the clothing underneath yet.

“You’re so beautiful,” He mumbled into your lips as he kissed you deeply. His knee slotted between your thighs under the skirt of your dress. His hands travel under your garments to feel your skin.

You whined in embarrassment, covering you face with your hands.

“Don’t cover yourself.” He grabbed your hands, pulling your wrists forward. He kissed down your body, in between your breasts. Letting go of your wrists to push up your chemise, kissing your breasts. You whimper as his teeth graze your erect nipples. Your back slightly arches off the bed and his hands slide under your back to support you.

You feel his hands pull down you bloomers, feeling his calloused hands on the smooth skin of your thighs. You let him pull off your chemise leaving you bare underneath him.

"Billy, you too." You whine, resting on your elbows. Your thighs were clenched together tight. His hands traveled to spread them apart.

"Let me see you first." You allowed him to spread your thighs. His thumb parting your wet folds. Your breathing getting faster as he smeared your slick around your folds. "This all for me?"

You didn't respond, you couldn't without your voice cracking. So you nodded instead, allowing him to continue to touch you. He kissed your knee as he spread your legs further apart. He rested his cheek against your thigh admiring your wet pussy before sliding a finger in.

Your jaw fell open letting out a small whimper. His single finger was longer and thicker than yours. You closed your eyes as you adapted to the feeling. His long finger slowly slid out and back in. He kissed along your inner thigh as he worked on your pussy.

"More?" He mumbled into your thigh. His eyes looked up to meet your closed ones. His thumb rubbed against your clit to get your reaction. "Come on, words now baby."

"Yes, more please." Was all you said, he obliged, pushing another finger in stretching you wider. His fingers sped up, curling in a "C" shape. You let out soft moans, slowly moving your hips.

His fingers pressed into a certain spongey spot inside of you emitting a squeak from your throat. You arched your back off the bed and Billy continued to brush his fingers into that spot. You eyes rolled back when his hot tongue met your clit. Flicking it before wrapping his lips around it. Moans of his name leaving your lips as you entangled your fingers into his brown curls.

"Billy, oh- I'm close. Please." Your hips jerked as you whined out to come, You felt him nod between your thighs. You threw your head back as you jerked your hips against his hand and face. Your back arching off the mattress as you cry out his name. Vision going white as you cum around his thick digits.

He looked up at you between you thighs, continuing to suck onto your clit. You whined trying to pushing his head from in between your thighs. He pulled his wet fingers out, using his hands to hold your legs apart. He was stronger than you were.

"Too much, Billy. Please, can't take it." She whined as she continued to try and push his head. His tongue explored her, licking and sucking her come. His tongue thrusting in her entrance making her cry out. "Billy, no more!"

She whined out before she came around his tongue again within a matter of minutes. Heavily breathing as he came up from between his wet thighs. His large hands rubbing and soothing his inner thighs.

He leaned down to kiss you, the taste of yourself on your tongue. Your hands cupped his face, your juices smeared on his chin.

His hands unzipped his pants, pulling out his cock. You looked down and let out a whimper. He was bigger than you had anticipated. If his legs weren't preventing yourself from closing, they'd be clenched shut. "Billy..."

"Shh, you gonna be a good girl?" He asked, lips still brushing against yours. You nodded as he spread your thighs again. He pulled them above his hips so you could cross them around his torso. "I'll be nice."

"You don't have to be." She whispered against his lips as his tip prodded at her wet entrance. He groaned, kissing her deeply to swallow and moans as he pushed in. His tip stretched you out, a slight burn that made you whimper into his kiss. You couldn't help but clench around him as he pushed into you. Inch by inch. He felt never-ending.

He let you adjust when he bottomed out. Slightly grinding against your hips feeling impatient. "You're so goddamn tight."

"Move." You muttered against his lips. He pulled out a few inches before pushing back in. You moaned out, surprised at the sensation. He thrusted into you slowly until you were whining at him to speed up. "Billy, faster- please."

His thrusts were relentless, you were a moaning mess underneath him. His hand hooked on the inner part of your knee to hit a deeper angle inside of you.

His lips travelled along your jawline, whispering incoherently into your skin. Grunting when he hit certain spots inside of you. His cock pressed against all the spots that made you cry his name. His lips finding the sensitive spot on your neck. Sucking a deep purple bruise into it.

"So wet- tight, fuck." He groaned into you. Fucking you harder. Your nails clawed at the fabric of his shirt, tugging it off to feel his skin. He shrugged off his button up shirt allowing you to scratch down his biceps. "Harder, please baby."

You nails left red streaks on his skin, digging in close almost enough to draw blood.

"Good girl, take it." He mumbled, his thumb rubbing your puffy clit. You let out a loud moan you pray no one nearby heard. The sounds Billy drew out of you were unholy, filthy.

"Biily, I-" He cut you off with a harsh thrust. You moaned out, eyes rolling back in pleasure.

"Come for me, come on." He rubbed her clit faster as your breathing picked up. The wet slapping noises almost overtaking it. "You're almost there."

His hands held your back as your chest pressed into his. Your hard nipples rubbing against his. Her come coating his thick cock. He fucked you through your orgasm, eventually pulling out. Spurts of his cum coating your lower stomach.

He kissed your sweaty hairline, rubbing your sides as you calmed down. His fingers entwining with your temporarily until you both heard the front door creak open.

masterlist

[cloudluvrrr]

Change

a/n: rushed and bad im sick andi have to post chat 😔

boothill x preachers daughter

tw : religous themes, slight implication of freaky, erm bad and rushed, i didnt proof read either 😈😈

-Michelle pfeifer - ethel cain

Boothill was often out at night, his family owned a small ranch a little south of the small town you lived in. You knew of him of course, everyone did. He often did some petty crimes, smoking, stealing from people, getting in fights. He was troubled, often coming into church on Sundays with his family begrudgingly.

He entered the southern style church, looking over at the rows of towns people whispering amongst themselves. Hiding away what they've done before, as if attending could simply wash away the tracks of their sins.

Sitting there with a sour look on his face, as your father preached about how to repent and cleanse your souls seemingly being aimed at boothill. As well as informing the town that the yearly baptism & church picnic was coming, and for those who wanted to be accepted to speak with his wife.

Every time he entered the church he saw the back of your pretty head. All done up with a bow, in your Sunday best. He watched as you highlighted and taking notes in your white bible. Your flushed cheeks, the point of your nose, your soft tinted lips, the frills of your dress. You were the towns girl, always dressed in pretty dresses and on her best behavior. Like a doe, innocent, beautiful, graceful. Boothill was like a snake, with the temptation and promise of leading others astray. Poisoning them, leading them astray from the grace of god.

As his thoughts came to a close he saw everyone getting up, and the pastor finishing up his sermon. He was hunched over, hands in his pocket as a soft hand tugged on his forearm.

"boothill" your soft voice echoed in his head, 'she knows my name?'

"uh.. yeah?" he asked nervously meeting your eyes.

"your not going to get baptised?"

"Why would I? everyone in here is fake as hell, I like to enjoy my you-"

"you're going to hell" you interupt, your brown eyes looking up at him.

"You can't be saved unless you change, ya know." you say stepping back and hugging your bible. "Your loved, you got everythin' and you live like that"

"the hell you mean by that" he snapped, but before you answered your father pulled you away to tend to other followers.

"I told you not to speak to him" your father whispered as he lead to the others "I was helping" you whisper back.

"He's beyond help baby"

--

He was out in his fathers wheat field, stargazing. A dimly light cigarette rest on his lips. His mind thinking of what you said, how he had everything yet he still rebelled. He tried his hardest to think of why, he shrugged it off as just wanting to be free from this shit small town.

His thoughts once more interrupted by a small hum, seeing you walking along the fence. Your hands behind your back, as you walked along the fence. God you were beautiful "hey!" he shouted getting up and standing on the other side.

The sweet sound of you hums stop as you look at him.

"made up your mind?" you ask looking into his eyes.

A fence between the two of you, a divide he placed a hand on the fence "fuck no, what you doin' out?" he ask looking around looking for any sign of your family.

"I like to go on walks"

"alone?"

"this town gossips like wild fire, if i do something it'll get to my daddy before I even return home. I ain't stupid like you" you say with an edge

"I enjoy my life" he scoffed putting out his cigarette.

"change is good"

"no it ain't"

"some times it is" you insist.

"why are you so insistan-"

"I want you to change"

"why? I'm a lost cause darlin' your daddy said so too" He added sitting on the fence

"...I don't think so, I wanna talk to yo-"

"the hell? why?"

"...I like you, your everything I'd like to be" your brows scrunching as you hear your own words

Your words hit him like lighting, you wanted to be like him. "why? You got everythin' your families perfect, y'all rich, you love eachother-" He could give you a million reasons why your family was so looked up upon.

"no, daddys.. Gone a lot, mama drinks, my kid siblings just do whatever daddy wants them too.." you said looking away.

'but I could tell that you wanted out of the family.'

--

So began boothills journey to salvation.

He gets baptized, and for the first time he doesn't get tugged away from you.

The both of you are on a swing set, talking about the most mundane things. Your favorite food, his favorite color, your hobbies anything he could to distract you from the town.

it was often cute dates like this, at the dinner, the lake, anywhere.

yet

he was a bad influence, even if he was 'fixed'. He wanted to show you the world outside of the church.

So on one of the days where your father was out and your mother was drowning in her wine cabinet.

the both of you, sat in boothills twin bed drinking some beer he'd stolen from the local store.

Things got hazey from there, you didn't remember much.

Other than boothill slipping off your purity ring, and slipping off your sunday best.

-

He'd become your world

Your everything

the very sin you'd had been protected from.

Your family had learned to accept him, and your friends envied you.

Yet he left,

just like that.

Packed his bags took his dads truck, and left.

You accepted it, moving on but always thinking of him sending him letters you were never sure reached him.

Eventually you dropped off the last letter along with the ring he'd made you, in his jewelry class

-

Dear, Boothill

where did you go?

This is my last letter, I don't know if you get any of them. But I'm finally leaving you behind, like you did with me.

You're like a demon that follows behind me, a reminder of our time and our fun. I can't deny I didn't like it, made me happy.

It makes me happy,

Especially when you changed just for me.

And just for you to leave.

Did you even exist?

or

was it me?

--

sorry if it started off good then slowly got worst i forgot where i wanted to take it, so YAAY i finished it tho :)

i havent been playing hsr but i will be pulling for sunday :D

actually ive been into the silent hill 2 remake and detroit become human :P

BYEYEEYEYU for now

[luveline]

Would you write a fic with either Eddie or spencer about reader being ghosted by someone they genuinely thought was into them (not speaking from personal recent experience or anything😅🥲) but they’re in love with reader and comforts them?

“I thought we had a nice connection,” you mumble dejectedly. 

Eddie wrinkles his nose. “A connection? With him? He was five foot three.” 

“Eddie, that’s not nice. I don’t care how tall he was.” Your voice disappears into the cushion you’ve decided to lay face down on, your back a shuddering slope he wants to reach out and touch. “I don’t care about that. Much. What’s important was that he–” You lift your flushed head, eyes rimmed with teary wetness. “He was so nice to me, and he didn’t pressure me into anything, and he brought me flowers without me having to ask. He was nice.” 

“Your standards are so, so low,” Eddie says. 

You grumble and force your face back into the pillow. Eddie should be nicer. He wants you to feel better, and he hates seeing you upset, but if you’re sure that guy was your soulmate Eddie’s selfish enough to wish he’d stay gone. “Hey,” he says, finally putting his hand on your back, though the touch is for you rather than him. He loves you as your friend just as much as he wants to be more than that, and he doesn’t have any intent now but to get you smiling as he bends down to talk near your ear. “It’s okay. You didn’t need that guy, just like you don’t need any guy. You have me. I love you to pieces.” 

“I know, Eddie,” you say softly. “Just sometimes I want more, you know? I love you too, but I want a partner, I want a lot of things… I really liked him.” 

Eddie can picture the heartbreak quite clearly. “You want the picket fence, right?” 

“What?” 

You again raise your head. Eddie meets your eyes with a hesitant smile. “You want the white picket fence. The little two story house with a wrap around porch, or a backyard big enough for the kids to play in, the kids to play in it.” He licks his lips. “Or not. You don’t have to have kids, right? Anything would be enough if it was just you and…” 

You frown unhappily, and Eddie thinks shit, I’m making it worse, but you say, “I always thought you’d wanna live in an RV, travelling the country. You want a picket fence?”

Eddie shrugs self consciously. “Sure. I also want a games room and a five thousand dollar loan.” 

You look at him long and hard. “You've always said that stuff is dumb.” 

“It is dumb. Seeing you all torn up over some jagoff who probably can’t tell his hand from his dick is stupid.” You laugh and turn your head to lay back down again, cheek pressed to soft velvet. “That’s stupid, babe. Let’s give up on stupid things and– and stop crying over boys who don’t deserve you.” He can’t stop himself, says it too hotly, “He didn’t deserve you.” 

You're hard to read, still as a statue with your hands pressed under your heart, but at least you aren’t crying anymore. You nod against the pillow. “Okay,” you say hoarsely. 

He flushes white hot. “Okay. Good… That was exhausting.” 

You roll your eyes at his complaining and he pats himself on the back, sure he’s gotten away with it again. He completely misses the strange looks you give him from the corner of your eye, too focused on giving you the world's best, totally not too friendliest back rub. 

[teratosfavouritesnack]

centaur x human - mildly dubcon, hand job (monster receiving)

He does not like you. That's the only plausible explanation you can come up with after weeks of unsuccessful attempts to befriend him.

The newest addition to the farmhouse, a huge, majestic centaur with long dark hair and a glossy tawny coat black as pitch, whom you've been assigned to personally care for, seems to… loathe you.

Without any reason, you may add.

What reason could he possibly have when you’ve barely managed to make him look at you when you first introduced yourself? On that occasion, he quite literally threw you a brief glance and then turned around, almost hitting you with his rear. Despite your initial shock, you tried to not give too much thought to his rude manners. You tried to not be too quick to judge. Perhaps he needed time to get accustomed to his new home, perhaps you needed to earn his trust just like with the wild horses you’ve been working with. And so you tried to give him time and space, to treat him with all the respect and kindness and consideration that a creature like him deserves. 

But the result has always been the same: his rear being shoved in your face. 

You've tried everything you can to get his attention, to earn his attention, but perhaps you've been too nice thus far. Perhaps he needs a firmer hand. You’re quite tired of being ignored, avoided, disrespected. Why does he feel the need to ostracize you when you’re there to take care of his needs? To help him? Does he not understand that?

It’s early morning when you find him in his stall, carving wood - something you've seen him do frequently since he arrived at the farm, although you’ve never been able to see up close what he’s been working on. When he spots you approaching, he turns around and gives you his back - as usual. That doesn’t surprise you any longer. The hundredth rejection does however cause your blood to boil in your veins, and make you more determined than ever to make him respect you, as you deserve.

You take the horse brush from your work coat and march into his enclosure. He instantly huffs and shifts nervously in protest but there isn't much space for him to move and by blocking the gate you don't give him a chance to escape. He can't ignore you forever. 

You are however painfully aware of how easily he could smash you against the wooden fence with his enormous and muscular body, or strike you with his hooves and seriously injure you... Though, you're hoping that his hatred for you doesn’t run as deep as to risk killing you.

You approach his side and begin brushing his mantle without saying anything, for words have so far proved to be futile with him. You are expected to tend to him, so that's what you're going to do from now on, whether he likes it or not. This is your job. This is what you're paid for. You will not let a spoiled snob of a centaur get you fired just because he refuses to let you perform your duties over who knows what stupid whim.

The centaur instantly grumbles in displeasure and tries to evade your touch but with little success. Your back hits the fence with a thud yet not hard enough to hurt you or make you stop.

"I'm going to take care of you, even though you do not deserve it." you state solemnly as you struggle to keep your brush on his coat with how much he squirms against your touch. "Now stop moving!"

"Go away! I don't need you!"

You're too annoyed with his actions to be startled by his response. It's the first time you've actually heard him speak, and his voice is so grave and rough, exactly as you'd expected, that you barely notice it. 

"You do need me! Can you brush yourself? Can you? You can't even reach your back with your fingers!"

He huffs again and writhes sharply when you press the brush with more force against his side. He trashes around so much that he hits you again, but this time hard enough to make you stumble and fall, ass down on the ground. You let out an exaggerated sigh and squeeze your eyes closed for a moment as you try to calm your mounting frustration. Patting your clothes to clean them from the hay, you shake your head in disbelief and curse him under your breath. 

You push your palms on the ground, ready to prop yourself back on your feet but the moment you raise your gaze, you see it; the enormous shape of his horse cock, long and erect, throbbing so hard its veins look like they're about to explode. You blink in shock at the sight, your mind going blank and your body instantly warming up.

Maybe, just maybe, this is why he has been avoiding you all along. Maybe, just maybe, he's been in pain all this time... and with no way to relieve himself of this ache. Maybe, just maybe, he was too embarrassed to let you any way near him. 

Despite everything, it doesn't take long for you to come to a decision. Crawling underneath his belly, you reach out for his length and touch it ever gently with your fingertips. But even that light touch is enough to make him groan and recoil. 

You grab onto his sides to avoid being stumped, holding tight until he stops writhing. One hand then reaches up for his cock again, palm closing around its girth.

"Don't… touch… it!" he groans through clenched teeth. You can hear the strain in his voice. He is indeed in pain.

"I'm here to take care of you, aren't I? So I will take care of you." you remind him firmly, a hint of sympathy edging your tone. Your palm starts to stroke back and forth, slowly, gently. Your first isn't enough to close around his whole girth so you soon add your other hand. 

The huffs and groans and poorly restrained whimpers that leave his lips fill the empty stall.

His wriggling body soon starts to match the pace of your strokes, bucking against your hands. You gasp as he shifts abruptly, lifting his torso and resting his front legs against the wall, putting his weight on his hind legs which shake and shift a little behind you as he tries to find his balance. In this position he can better piston his cock in your palms, urgently, desperately. His full big balls smack against your arm at each thrust. It's scary to be under him like this, one wrong move and he could badly hurt you, yet at the same time, you feel in power. He searches your touch, he ruts into your fists, desperate for more friction, desperate for a release he's been craving for who knows how long.

"This is why you've been avoiding me, isn't it?" you say softly, the frustration of before gone entirely from your tone. You almost feel... pity for him. Such a majestic creature forced to depend on others to relieve himself.

He doesn't answer. But he doesn't need to. You know it's true.

It only takes a couple of minutes for him to grow tense and then jerk violently as he spills gallons of cum in the hay; white stripes even splatter over your work coat. You ease down on the ground, sitting on your heels, panting from the exertion, eyes darting from his spent cock to his trembling body. Your hand reaches up for his belly, gently caressing his soft coat to ease his tremors.

"I'm sorry..." you hear him utter, breathlessly, as he slowly eases down from the wall, careful not to knock you over. 

You're not sure what he's apologizing for, if it's for the poor way he's been treating you from day one or for what has just happened. Either way, you accept it. Perhaps this is how you ‘turn over a new leaf’ and start anew.

"It's okay... It's okay." you coo softly, keeping on rubbing his belly. "I'm here for you… I hope you understand that now…"

The centaur seems to appreciate your words because he nudges your body with his side, not like before when he was trying with all his might to push you away. No. This time it feels more... affectionate. You pat his side with a soft chuckle and he huffs softly in response. 

With a gracious movement, he bends down and retrieves something from the ground and extends it to you. Crawling away from under him, you take the brush from his hands and finally meet his dark but beamy eyes. There's a gentle expression on his face, one you've never seen graze his features before. You return his smile and gratefully take his stretched hand to prop yourself up. As you do, however, something sitting in the hay catches your attention and you reach for it. It's a half carved piece of wood, possibly the one he was working on when you came in.

"Oh, that's… uhm-"

You gaze up at him again, watching curiously as his cheeks flush and his look grow shy.

Your eyes return to the object, inspecting it with interest. The figure is still roughly shaped, but as you turn it in your hands you seem to recognize its features. Realization dawns on you when you notice it resembles... you.

Maybe you were entirely wrong. Maybe the explanation for his behavior towards you is that he likes you, though a bit too much. 

🪷. You can leave me a tip on ko-fi if you want to support me <3