#this session has me SO excited | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

inafieldofdaisies · 2 years ago

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Happy Halloween from Calahan who is taking over the cult indefinitely (a.k.a. WIP Wednesday bcs I'm late, kinda) | "Sinners Welcome" Drabble

I had this idea floating around about doing an edit of Cal cosplaying as Joseph for Halloween, so here y'all go. I'm just so proud of it. I went as far as designing his tattoos myself as graphics to use. Below we got the story that goes with the edit, I will be posting it on AO3 soon, too. It gets nsfw towards the end because John do be sinnin'.

"Donovan.", Whitehorse called out as soon as Sabrina walked in through the door, a part of her feeling glad he was saving her from the compulsory morning small talk with Nancy. "Morning, Sheriff.", she sent him a small smile, noting the deep frown he wore for such an early hour. "Walk with me." He didn't wait for her to reply, heading towards the small kitchen in the Sheriff's Department. Silence took over as he waited for the coffee machine to grant him, if she had to guess, not his first dose of caffeine for the day. "Is everything okay?" "You're with Rookie today.", he mumbled as he took a sip from his mug, "Pratt called in sick, and I need someone to keep an eye on him." She nodded, "Fine by me." "Good, good.", his voice lowered, "To be frank, Hudson refused after hearing where they'd be headed." "Jesus, boss… you're making it sound like me and Gray are about to go to war.", Calahan poked his head into the room, lips twisting into a cheeky smile. Whitehorse's eyes narrowed as he smoothed down his mustache, "I'm more worried about you starting a war, Rookie." A snort left the younger Deputy, "Not on my to-do list, no worries." "I've heard that before.", he turned to Sabrina, "Donovan, just… try to keep him in check, will ya? Make sure he doesn't kill anyone." Calahan sent her a 'can you believe this guy' look over their boss' shoulder, "Will do." Whitehorse sighed, "The last thing I need is John Seed showing up out front, and makin' demands again. Am I clear, Rookie? Stay out of trouble." "As clear as this fine morning, sir.", the words were paired with a dramatic salute. "It's fucking overcast today, Rookie."

Sabrina bit back a laugh as he made a hasty escape before Calahan could raise his blood presure even more than he already had. "Kid." "What?", to an outsider the innocent look in Hartley's eyes would have been convincing enough, but by then she knew better, especially with the overall satisfied demeanor he had going on even after being prematurely scolded by Whitehorse. "Where are we going?" The smile that took over his face promised trouble, "Payin' good old Joe a visit." It's all he provided as an explanation before he spun on his heel and gestured for her to follow him. "I didn't get a coffee." There was an extra bounce to his step, strange giddiness, and he didn't even bother to stop when he muttered, "Already on it, Gray. It's waiting for you in the car. Chop-chop."

Minutes later, they were pulling at Joseph's Compound, the music Calahan had playing in the cruiser drawing the attention of the two Eden's Gate members manning the front gates to it. The fact they rested their hands on their holsters as he shut off the ignition wasn't lost on Sabrina. "Cal?" By the looks of it, he wasn't sharing her concerns about things going sideways on trigger-happy Peggie territory, "Yeah?" "Try not to make them angry�� for me?" He ran a hand through his dirty blond hair before nodding quickly, "I will try my best, partner." She knew it was all she could really get from him as a promise, especially considering his previous run-ins with Joseph's men. There was a reason why Hudson had refused to tag along with him for the day - avoiding paperwork or having to talk him down from the edge. Chances were, their routine visit could result in a fight breaking out, punches being thrown or worse. Sabrina exited the car, following Hartley towards the entrance of the Compound as he strutted like he had no care in the world, headed straight for the cultists.

"Joseph called us in.", he announced and crossed his hands over his chest, regarding both men with a bored expression. "Morning.", she added, refusing to buckle under the scrutiny that somehow had ended up on her instead of Calahan. "Ask for Mercy.", one of the bearded men grumbled out, dark eyes revealing little as he extended his hand to point down the road behind him. "Well, that didn't sound menacing at all.", Sabrina remarked under her breath as she and Hartley followed the muddy path surrounded by fences on both sides on foot, and judging by how trodden it was, large processions from and to sermons weren't uncommon. The observation was just another awful reminder of how big of an influence the cult had, how many it had sucked in with its practices and empty promises. "Fucking weirdos. There better be a woman named Mercy waitin' or I'm-"

"You promised to stay calm.", she reminded him, gaze trained ahead in anticipation of anything malicious after the man's cryptic words, "I take it that you don't know who we're looking for?" Calahan snorted, "Not like I and Joseph's many wives hang out at the same spots. Hell, most of them don't even dare to look me in the eye, let alone come near me, like I'd seduce them just by breathing in their vicinity." "Rubbin' off your sin on them?", she asked jokingly. "Sins. Plural. I contain multitudes, Gray." Sabrina could feel everyone staring as two advanced ahead, a couple of houses and other small buildings coming into view, with a church towering over in the distance. There was a decent crowd around the spacious property despite the early hour. Men and women all dressed alike - in worn-out clothes bearing the symbol of their leader, the red Eden's Gate cross in stark contrast with their muted appearances. In the sea of beige and wary faces something captured her attention - a woman in a white vintage looking dress moved with conviction, but instead of coming to them and sparing them the hassle of looking for 'Mercy', she aimed for a redheaded man Sabrina had only seen on printed materials of the cult.

"That one, I know,", Calahan nodded towards him, coming to an abrupt stop and leaning in to whisper, "Jacob Seed, grumpy son of a bitch. Last person, I'd ask for directions, though." Without doubt, the oldest Seed did have a serious, over-disciplined aura about him, far different from the easy-going, dangerously charming act John put on in his attempts at recruiting new people for his brother's Project. Sabrina bit her lip as the woman with curly blonde hair tilted her head to look up at the man towering several inches over her, her demeanor relaxed in spite of the way Jacob was regarding her - like he wanted nothing to do with the interaction. As if he could sense the two sets of eyes watching them, his icy stare shifted from her to the Deputies standing a couple of feet away before he said something quietly and nodded in their direction. "Good morning, Jakey.", Calahan raised his hand in a mock wave, and the Seed brother sent him a frown before heading off the way the woman had come from without returning his greeting.

At the same time, she progressed forward, a friendly grin brightening her features as she came to a halt in front of Hartley, definitely not keeping a purposeful distance like the rest of Joseph's followers, "Deputies." He appeared completely taken aback by the bold move, especially with her deep brown eyes set on him. In ways she couldn't fault him, he had a weak spot for women, even more when he became their sole focus. Sabrina was the first to speak, "We were told to ask for Mercy." "That would be me. Mercedes Sibley. If you would follow me…", she spun around with that, uttering quiet hellos to people and leading them past the church where a house resided spaced out from the rest marked with phrases in latin. Sins, to be exact. Nothing was written above the doorway of this one, Sabrina realized. Mercedes pushed the door to the house open with her and Hartley close on her heels.

She wasn't sure what to expect from what she deemed as the home of a cult leader - somehow the plain walls in need of repaint adorned by a couple of portraits and newspaper clippings felt mundane, too normal. The short hallway led into an ordinary looking living room, where Mercedes made a right turn towards one of the open doorways, announcing in a far gentler voice as she reached it and moved aside so they can pass through first, "The Deputies are here, Father." Joseph Seed, the man that had built a giant statue of himself and pronounced himself as God's mouthpiece, sat in one of the chairs at that small kitchen table while his older brother stood nearby as if on guard duty. The gun and knife holster strapped to his tight certainly hinted at that. "Good morning, my name is Deputy Donovan, my colleague and I are here on a call.", Sabrina explained while Calahan remained silent, an unreadable expression coming over his features when his blue eyes set on the 'Father'.

"Shouldn't we call John, let him handle things?", Jacob grunted out, pretending like they weren't even in the room as Mercedes moved past him and resumed a position behind his brother. To Calahan's credit, he made none of the expected remarks, his serious demeanor beginning to worry Sabrina to an extent. "Somebody broke in, brother.", Mercedes glanced in the oldest Seed's direction, his gaze narrowing at the last word she had said in a sickly sweet tone, "Does it make sense to call in an attorney for that?" Joseph's eyes bounced between the Deputies, finally coming to rest on Hartley's, "Sit, Mercy, my child. There's no need to call John at the moment." Mercedes complied by slipping into the chair next to his, silently hinting for Sabrina to do the same. She cleared her throat, settling into her seat across from the woman before pulling out her report notebook and laying it down on the table, "How about we start from the beginning then?"

Calahan loomed behind her, hand grasping the back of her chair, standing watch just like Jacob was for his brother. Joseph pushed his sunglasses up his nose before leaning forward, hands clasped in front of him, "I went to bed last night, and nothing was out of place. After waking up this morning, I noticed a couple of things were missing." Sabrina noted his words down, tapping her pen on the page, trying to avoid any unnecessary eye contact, "Things as in?" She couldn't imagine how stuffy the room would feel if John had been there too to make demands, possess the conversation. How fully outnumbered they'd be then. "Personal belongings.", Jacob cut in. "We would need a list of anything that's been taken, Mr. Seed.", Sabrina sent him a quick glance, just in time to catch his eyes darting to Mercedes. Interesting. "My old Bible,", Joseph began, lips pursed in disdain, "an engraved belt, a black custom blazer and… my rosary. I believe that's all."

"Okay.", it was a strange list of items to be stolen, but Sabrina didn't say anything as she jotted down each item, "Any sign of forced entry, or better yet, can we take a look around ourselves?" "I still think we should call John.", Jacob grumbled out again, making Mercedes sigh quietly. "He doesn't lock any of the doors.", she said eventually. Calahan snorted at that, whatever energy for acting decent running its course, "So, the perp just… entered?" "Which is still a crime, is it not?", Mercedes asked slowly. "Technically, yes.", he chuckled, "But, Father here is making it a hundred times easier on thieves. So frankly, anyone living on the property could be a suspect. He's lucky nobody has done other serious crimes upon his person while he sleeps. A slit throat for example." "I trust my children, they would never steal from me, let alone hurt me.", Joseph argued. "Do you, now?", Calahan's voice took an edge, "Can they say the same about you, Father?"

"So much darkness,", the Father's eyes rose up to look over Sabrina's shoulder, "is trapped within you, child, looking for a way out. My family could help you, set you free from it." "I'd take no help from a man that doesn't even know how to protect his own home. If I were you, I'd worry more about the thief lurking amongst your people instead of my poor blackened soul… after all, stealing is a sin, is it not?" Jacob came closer, "It was an outsider, we are certain of it. So just do your job and find them." Sabrina nodded as she closed her notebook, "We will take a look around then." Mercedes rose up with that, "I can show you two-" "Sit down, Mercedes.", annoyance seeped into the command as Jacob strode past the table and out of the kitchen, calling out for Sabrina to follow him. He pointed at each door that led outside, the old floorboards groaning beneath his feet at almost every step he took. Calahan stayed behind in the kitchen doorway as she took notes, leaving her to ask questions and navigate the hostile waters.

"Your brother sleeps where?" His chin lifted up towards a doorway that led out of the living room, "Down that hall." "Heavy or light sleeper?" Jacob crossed his hands over his chest, impatience oozing from his body language, "How is this relevant?" "Considering I'm trying to determine most likely point of entry… it would be helpful. If you have better things to do, Mr. Seed, I'm sure Ms. Sibley won't mind taking it from here." His jaw ticked at the suggestion, "Light." Sabrina focus zeroed on the backdoor, and she walked back and forth a couple of times while scanning for any potential evidence the thief might have left behind, "Would you mind…" "I mind." It took a lot of willpower for her to not roll her eyes, reminding herself the quicker they wrap up the report, the sooner her and Calahan would be rid of dealing with the Seeds.

"It would be helpful if somebody with different stature-" Jacob repeated her movements before she could finish her sentence, then turned back to her with a 'are you happy now?' expression. "Thank you.", she lifted her attention from her notebook, making sure to pick her next words carefully, "Your brother claims the perp entered the house during the night while he was asleep." At his nod she continued, "And his floors aren't exactly-" His icy blue gaze narrowed at that, "What's your point, Deputy Donovan?" "I assume the items were in the room where he sleeps?" "Yes.", a hand scratched his bearded cheek. "And he didn't hear anything?" "Are you accusing my brother of lying?" It was at that point she began to wonder if John in fact had been around, he would have been easier to deal with, or he would have ended up avoiding answering her questions even more, especially with how cagey Jacob acted, like she wasn't there to help, but rather arrest Joseph.

"I'm not accusing Mr. Seed of anything. In an investigation every bit of information is useful, no matter how small or insignificant it might seem. You called us, I'm just trying to do my job here." "Mercedes called you. I had nothing to do with this.", he corrected her coldly. Sabrina spared a quick look in Calahan's direction, finding him watching the two silently with a dark smirk from his previous spot, before she pulled the door leading out of the back of the house open. Her eyes remained casted downward, and she could feel Jacob standing close as he peeked over her shoulder at what had captured her interest. "Do many visitors use this door usually?" "No." At his confirmation, she crouched down, taking a picture of a fresh footprint left in the mud and measuring it with her hand roughly, she hushed the part of her telling her the size of the shoes the thief wore seemed to match Calahan's.

"So this is the point of entry?", he inquired for once as she got back up. "It would seem so.", she pocketed her notebook, "Anything of significance back there?" "That way leads off the property." Sabrina carefully avoided stepping over the only evidence left behind, her sights set on examining the path the perp had most likely took after snatching Joseph's belongings. "I will need to take a look then.", she didn't expect for the oldest Seed to follow, but he did, the crunch of leaves and twigs signaling his steady pace behind her. The silence only broken by the occasional chirping of birds around them was unnerving, even more paired with the fact she was being shadowed by an armed individual who wasn't exactly keen on her and Calahan's presence at his brother's Compound. Yet she refused to allow him the satisfaction of knowing he was making her uncomfortable, she had no doubt he would enjoy every second of it.

"I haven't seen you around before.", Jacob mumbled in an even tone as she advanced forward, watching her every step carefully as the path pretty much disappeared into an overgrown grass. If it was anyone else, his attempt at small talk would have made her smile, she'd probably would have tried to ease the person's unease at it, instead she kept her answer as short as possible, the same way he had before, "You folks don't exactly have a habit of asking for our help." A noise of agreement left him at the same time her boot caught on what she guessed was an exposed tree root, making her trip as she navigated the terrain soaked by the rain from the night prior. The dreaded faceplant never came thanks to the hand that wrapped around her upper arm and steadied her, followed by a dark chuckle. "Careful now, Sabrina." The fact he knew her first name despite remarking how he'd never seen her before was a red flag on its own and confirmed he knew more than he let on, the choice of using it at that exact moment though, was what gave her pause.

She held his stare in defiance before shaking off his hold, "I can handle myself." The bored expression swooped back in place as he lifted his shoulder, "Be my guest." Sabrina covered the remaining distance to the property line in a rush, worrying about what would await her upon returning to the house, if Calahan would have managed to keep his cool as promised. To her relief Jacob settled for keeping any further comments to himself, trekking a few feet away behind her until they reached the fence that was meant to keep intruders out. Or members trying to flee, in… A well-thought cut in the chainlink greeted them. The sought after point of entry and escape. "You're better at this than expected.", he remarked quietly, pulling at the fence as his face scrunched up into a frown. Sabrina pursed her lips at the offhand compliment before snapping a couple of pictures, "Not sure if I should say thank you or feel insulted."

All she got as reply was an unreadable look before he let go of the mesh the thief had snipped at to gain entry on the cult's land. "So perp goes through all this trouble, risks getting caught by your brother… for a belt, blazer and old bible?" "Locals have been know to do far stranger things to Eden's Gate property." "Still… are you certain nothing else is missing? Anything beside your patience, that is.", the last part she uttered out in a low voice, but judging by his reaction he heard it. All she could describe him as was appearing insulted at the bold but very true observation, "I'm absolutely patient." She raised an eyebrow and set off towards the way they came from, "Sure." "Far more patient than your partner back there.", the 'partner' part he said as an insult, clearly thinking as highly of Calahan as the young Deputy did of him. Just when she was convinced he would slip back into avoiding conversation, he spoke up again, hesitation lurking behind his words, "Do you think he was lying?"

It was quite obvious who he meant, still she settled for a simple, "Who?" "Joseph." "About which part?" The idea anyone, let alone someone so close to the Father was questioning something he claimed had happened, was certainly an unexpected outcome. By then Jacob had caught up, falling into step beside her, "Being asleep. Considering you were a detective…" "You read my records or something, Mr. Seed?" "Something like that." Sabrina sneaked a fleeting glance in his direction, "You actually want my professional opinion or is this some tactic you picked up from John?" "I want the truth." A sigh broke free as her eyes came to rest on the house that was drawing closer and closer, "Well, do you think your brother would sleep through a person entering his home, no, worse, his bedroom… rummaging through the space in the dark for the items while leaving no traces behind?"

"It was a compliment.", he muttered when they reached the backyard and he pushed his way inside first, his stony demeanor returning at once. Whatever doubts were plaguing him were none of her business, her sole focus as she followed in his wake was making sure Hartley was okay and staying true to his promise of peace. "Cal." Calahan had hardly moved from where she had left him and he gave her a puzzled look before asking, "We done here?" "I need like 5 minutes.", her smile was forced when she entered the kitchen where only Mercedes was still seated, while Joseph and Jacob were nowhere to be found. "He won't be pressing any charges…" Sabrina shifted in place, "We haven't established any suspects yet, Ms. Sibley." "I'm just saving you time, Deputy.", the blonde got up with that, smoothing down her dress, "John has decided to take it from here, figure out who's done it and make sure the incident doesn't repeat."

"You heard her, Gray.", Calahan added behind her, "We're off then, miss." He sent Mercedes one of his signature winks before storming out of the house, and to her credit she appeared completely unfazed in comparison to the usual response he got from women, "I will see you out." Sabrina nodded and set out after her, meeting up with Hartley who was waiting for her outside by the entrance. With a final wave from the woman, the two were off on their way back to their cruiser, quickly becoming the center of attention once more. A couple of feet down the dirt path she spotted another familiar face that stared at her anytime she would turn on her TV or drive through town. The man that had decided to take over the 'investigation', believing he was more capable. John was engaged in a hushed conversation with Jacob, pausing whatever he was saying to steal a look at her.

"I feel like we're animals in a zoo." Calahan let out a chuckle, "Sadly no petting, though. Speaking off…" To her horror, his voice rose as they passed the two Seed brothers, drawing in even more eyes to them. "Anyone feelin' like sinnin' tonight?", he hollered cheerfully, "Halloween party at the Spread Eagle. Girls, I'd even buy you a drink. Dancing's on the menu, too, followed by other activities if you're lucky." The dark expression that came over John's face was enough for her hands to wrap around his arm and squeeze his bicep in a warning as she whispered under her breath, "You promised to behave." "I behaved plenty.", his smirk was full of pride, "Plus, look at Johnny, I'm pretty certain I saw a vein in his forehead pop, I need to get closer to see-" She ushered him along, knowing things were bound to end well if he and John were to butt heads right then and there, "Follow the path, kid." To the youngest Seed credit, he refrained from giving them a piece of his mind, and Sabrina wasn't sure if it was thanks to the crows and his brother watching his every move or because he was planning another appearance in front of the Sheriff's and making Whitehorse's day hell.

"Do you think I'd get lots of candy, Rin-Rin?", Savannah asked with an excited smile as she peeked over the back of the couch. Sabrina sank in the empty space next to her, and her sister snuggled into her embrace, "Even if you don't.", her voice lowered like she was about to share a little secret, "I hid a stash for you someplace in the house." Excitement shone in her green eyes, "My favorite candy?" "Of course, pumpkin." "You know, bats use echolocation to find their food?" Sabrina released a chuckle, "Then it's even more fitting." A knock sounded, making her rise up from her seat, curiosity swooping at who was stopping by when Ms. Darcy wasn't meant to be there for a good couple of hours. She swung the door open, finding Calahan leaning against the doorframe with one of his usual grins, a black duffel bag hanging off his shoulder, a familiar pair of yellow tinted shades covering his eyes.

"Hey." "Kid?, she gave him a confused look as he pushed his way inside, "I thought we were meeting at the bar?" "Tiny!", he greeted Savannah, and before he could blink, a blur of red curls was rushing at him, and he scooped her sister up like she weighted nothing. "Uncle Cal,", small hands came to rest on his shoulders, as her mood brightened even more at the surprise visit, "did you come to see my costume?" "Of course, Sav. You're going to be the cutest bat." He lowered her back onto the ground, turning to Sabrina with a determined expression, "Speaking of costumes, Gray…" There was twinkle in his baby blues as he regarded her, and she couldn't help but wonder if he was just as excited for the holiday as Savannah. "You're yet to tell me what you're even going as.", she raised an eyebrow in a question, having no idea what he would actually pick. His lips twisted into a smirk, "A beloved character, if you will."

"Oh?" "And I kind of need your help… seeing how you're the one with artistic skills, especially compared to little old me." Sabrina nodded, "What are we talking?" Calahan's response was to chuck the duffel bag at her, and she caught it swiftly before dropping it on the floor and unzipping it to see what he had brought along as materials. Her hands lifted a pair of dark gray jeans that laid on top, covering the rest of the items inside, and she needed a moment to process what she was staring at. A belt engraved with the Eden's Gate cross. A black blazer. A well-worn bible that looked like it was close to falling apart. No, not a bible, rather than a Joseph's version of it. A rosary was at the bottom, confirming her suspicions further. "Calahan.", Sabrina muttered in disbelief as her gaze rose up to his, registering the sheepish expression he wore at the discovery.

"Yeah?" "It was you." "No comment." "I-", she shook her head, "I have no idea what to say." "Say you will help me by drawing a couple of tattoos for me?", he paired the words with puppy dog eyes for good measure. "Jesus, Cal." "You're in troubleeee.", Savannah giggled behind him, completely oblivious to the fact her beloved uncle had committed a crime, broke the law when he was supposed to enforce it. "Pretty, please?", his voice dipped, "I went through so much s-", he stopped himself before a curse slipped out, "stuff to get them… I'd draw the tats myself, but well… angles aren't exactly friend, and I feel like this look deserves more, you know?" "And Whitehorse?" "You heard Mercy, there's no case for us to worry about. Joseph can, uh, fluff off." Sabrina sighed, "I can't believe this."

He shimmied towards her to pick up the bag, "That a yes?" "I-" "Say yes. I knoooow, wrong brother.", he tried mimicking John's usual tone from his broadcasts, successfully making her laugh as her frown melted away. "You're going to owe me one." Calahan made a cross over his heart, "Goes without sayin'." She took a deep breath before pointing at the hallway that led upstairs, "Bedroom then, I will be right up." "Not something I expected to hear from you.", he wiggled his eyebrows before disappearing up the stairs. "Sav, I will help uncle Cal with his costume for the party, I won't be long, okay?" Her sister nodded excitedly, a rush coursing through her system like she had already gone through the candy reserve hidden for her, "I can't wait to see his." Sabrina winced at the idea Calahan most likely planned on going shirtless that evening and showing off as much as he could, "Behave while I'm gone, okay? If you need anything, just holler." "Okay.", Savannah's attention shifted back to the TV, and Sabrina rushed out of the living room and towards her bedroom.

Hartley had made himself at home in one of her armchairs, jumping to his feet as soon as she came into view. "Ready?" Sabrina rubbed her forehead as she rummaged through the drawer that held all body paints she had left from previous Halloweens, "Don't expect miracles." "Want to see my sharpie rendition of Joe's tattoos? Then we can talk about failures.", he asked before lifting his shirt over his head, "I showered before coming over, by the way." Sabrina gestured to the chair in front of her vanity as she selected what brushes she might need, "You're a lot, you know that?" "Just try not to fall in love.", Hartley added jokingly as he shuffled over, muscles flexing as he sat down in his designated spot. "That won't be an issue." Her disbelief made him laugh out loud before he muttered, "It's a thing. Like for real." "Then maybe Mary May would tonight?"

"Doubtful.", his tone became sober for a second, regret swooping in, then another grin erased his scowl, "I found you pictures." Sabrina released a dramatic sigh of relief, "Good, because it ain't like I've seen Joseph naked, so you'd be getting generic tattoos without references. You're lucky you're not getting prison ones, consider you committed a crime last night." "Pfft, he has extras of everything I took. The only reason he called us in was because he couldn't believe someone had the guts to enter his actual house." She didn't bother to point out the bible looked treasured, somewhat irreplaceable based on its state. The fact Joseph might value the items wasn't going to change Hartley's mind and make him return what he stole, not even because of the risk he might get into trouble with Whitehorse, but simply for the idea he refused to bow down to any of the Seeds. He pulled out his phone, presenting a couple of shots from sermons the Project no doubt used to promote themselves.

"You know, for a cult that hates technology and sinning, they sure are relying hard on both to lure people in…", Sabrina uttered out, beginning with a crudely done, faded reddish tattoo on his right clavicle, spelling 'Sloth'. Calahan snorted, "Have you seen John? Fucker is the very definition of honey trap, then you have Faith… Hell, the little lady from this morning certainly was one too." "Both brothers were acting strange around her." "Jacob?", he huffed at the idea, "Ain't no way. John, I can picture being frustrated as fuck and losing his mind at the fact his brother banned sex." "Whatever you say." "All that talk of sin, like come on.", he argued, "Folks are talkin' about him and his life before the Project…" "I suspect I don't wanna know." His grin remained in place, fully fueled by the fact he was getting what he wanted while gossiping about the family that was a thorn in the County's side, "Oakley and I made a bet after hearin' some interesting things from Addie. $50 says he has a sex room at the ranch Joe knows nothing about."

"And how exactly would you confirm that?", Sabrina's next step was painting a black-and-white crown adorned by the cult's cross and to Calahan's credit, even with all the unleashed energy within him, he remained seated without fidgeting too much. "No clue.", he began slowly, sounding like he was actually considering the idea, "I ain't takin' one for the team, that's for sure. No idea who would and how successful they'd be, either." "That would be a sacrifice." Hartley groaned at that, "He most definitely chants 'Yes' over and over as he comes. Guaranteed. Can you imagine it? I can't picture sentencing anyone to that torture." "I'd rather not. Sit still,", she warned as she began working on another tattoo, "Can we change the subject?" "What? Johnny fuckin' ain't your cup of tea? Because I have more thoughts on the matter." "You're on thin ice, kid." "Fine, fine.", he rolled his eyes, "He stopped by the station, you know… To his shit luck, Whitehorse had left already, almost caused him to have a meltdown before his actual scheduled meltdown."

"What about?" A laugh rumbled his chest despite her previous warning, gaze filling with a prideful gleam, "Me inviting his precious members to party at Mary May's. How I was spreadin' my sinful ideas without any shame. Told him, I'd be spreading more than ideas tonight and flipped him off before I left." "Jesus." "He's probably complaining to him still. 'That sinner, how dare he! And why can't I have some, too, God?'", he went for another attempt at imitating John's way of speaking. The next tattoo that spelled 'Lust' had quite the unfortunate placement, making Sabrina back away to examine her work up until that point. "Abs are next. It might be too far, even for us." He didn't appear bothered by the idea at all when he rose up to give her better access, "Yes, m'am. Paint me like your local cult leader, not one of your french girls."

"Hilarious.", she shook her head at his amusement, "When I woke up today, the last thing I imagined having to get close and personal with your lower regions." "Oh, come on. There are worse views. Plus, I'm wearing pants, you ain't even getting the full Hartley tour." "I guess that's true.", a real tattoo above his left hip drew her attention despite trying to remain focused on her task, and a giggle broke free as she made out what it said in a convoluted font, "Cal?" "Gray?", he mimicked her intonation, eyes meeting hers. "Does this spell what I think it does?" "Oh, yeah." It took a lot for her to keep her balance or her hand steady as another laugh made it past her lips, "But, but… why?" He shrugged, "Because it's the truth. And fyi, this isn't what I usually get from girls, you're kinda bruising my ego." "I mean, it does match Joseph's 'Lust', if nothing else."

"Fucking hypocrite.", he muttered out loud as Sabrina made a sign for him to spin around with her finger and sit down again as she moved onto his back. "I did get a feeling he wasn't being truthful about his whereabouts when 'the thief' broke in." "Entered, all that was missing was a 'Welcome, come on in, Cal' sign'.", he corrected her, "It was the middle of the night, and the house was empty, Gray. He was lying through his teeth to you, and to his brother." "I figured as much." "Speaking of…", another sin that in the reference image looked like it was inked on by a child adorned Calahan's skin, "How was trekking on your own with Jacob? Not many would dare go off with him." "Not like I asked him to come.", she explained slowly, her mind drifting back to their interaction, his cryptic words, and strange behavior. The fact she was avoiding answering the question wasn't lost on him, "Well? I'm waiting."

"Like pulling teeth, no idea why he even volunteered to tag along when the whole time he was rushing to get me out of his hair as soon as possible." Calahan scratched at his stubble, "I can make a good guess, but you won't like my theory." "I suspect as much." "I will keep it to myself then." "A first." "You're welcome, it physically hurts me to hold in my jokes sometimes." A couple of minutes later, most of the simple tattoos she could copy to bring Calahan's planned look together were done. "Damn.", he exlaimed as he examined himself in the full-length mirror in her bedroom, twisting as much as he could so he could see his back as well, "I knew I shouldn't have attempted to do these myself." Sabrina laughed, "That would have been a look." "Thank you, Gray.", Hartley gave her a half-hug, staying mindful of smudging his temporary ink, "Now Whitehorse's inevitable lecture would be worth it, truly."

"I'm honestly surprised you didn't steal Joseph's underwear, commit to the bit all the way through." A snort left him, "Please, I have my limits. Glasses are a little gift from Addie and exhibit A to him not telling the truth, because I so would have snatched his sunnies, too. The jeans are mine.", a shudder racked his body, "For all I know Joe likes going commando." "Thanks for the visual." Calahan feigned a bow, "I live to serve. Or to scar people, depending on the occasion." "I need to help Sav get into her costume, I promised to take her trick-or-treating before the party." "Ah, man, I'm tempted to tag along. Think people will give me candy?", he plopped down onto her bed with a dreamy sigh. "Considering your persistence and charm, I'd guess yes. But…" "But what?" Sabrina pursed her lips, "It might be best to stay back, minimize how many people would see you before it's even showtime. Word's bound to get to John or Joseph himself."

"True.", he nodded, "Mind if I stick around, then we can leave together?" "Of course. And if you're good, you might even get some candy from Sav's reserve. Relive your childhood to the fullest before getting the adult version of Halloween." His eyes lit up at that, "You got yourself a deal." "Just avoid making Ms. Darcy shoot you by mistake if she gets here while we're gone."

After taking Savannah out to show off her bat costume she had personally worked on in making what she called 'more realistic' and returning with enough candy that her back-up stash had become unnecessary and was gifted to Calahan, Sabrina bid her and Ms. Darcy goodbye for the evening. The latter had joked how she wouldn't mind Eden's Gate if the younger Deputy was in charge. "First thing, Darce asked me was if I had forgotten my shirt,", Hartley smoothed down the stolen blazer that no doubt would come off eventually and was the only thing he wore to cover his bare chest, "and how at least I had something on to not catch my death in the cold." "She's too cute sometimes.", Sabrina retorted as she got into her Bronco and buckled in. "Yeah, reminds me of my Nana, but…", he wiggled his eyebrows, dropping Joseph's bible and rosary in his lap before he leaned back into his seat and added, "then she told me how the ladies would sure appreciate the view."

Their laughter filled the truck as she pulled out of her driveway, an advertisement about the party at the Spread Eagle coming on the local radio station she usually had playing. "Sinners welcome." closed the message, and Calahan gave Sabrina a wink when she snuck a quick look in his direction. "Yes, it was my idea. A little fuck you to John." "Mary May's paying you for those gems or?" He chuckled, "I suggested she could also use me as a model, do some shots with my renditions of the Seed brothers." "Oh my god." "She shot the idea down, sadly. Maybe next Halloween.", he drummed his hands on the dashboard, "Good news is I'm getting free drinks tonight as a thank you for helping her decorate and set shit up." "You plan on finally doing something about your crush tonight?" "What crush?" "Very funny." "Speaking of getting laid… want me to be your wingman?" Her nose wrinkled at the offer, "I'd pass on that."

"I'm like the best wingman you can have, just saying." She pulled into one of the empty parking spots across the Spread Eagle, "I'm not sleeping with anyone tonight, Calahan." Hartley jumped off the truck, bible in one hand, while the other had the rosary wrapped around his palm a couple of times. He leaned against the door, thankfully lowering his voice so the other patrons that were pilling to go inside the bar wouldn't overhear him, "If you do change your mind, just say the word. I'm going to find you someone worthy. A stallion to ride." She let out a groan as she rested her forehead against the steering wheel, "Please don't ever say that again." His laughter followed her as she got out too and locked her doors, his arm swinging over her shoulders as the two walked towards the entrance of the Spread Eagle. Loud music and chatter filled the space as the Deputies pushed their way inside. Mary May was practically swimming in drink orders to a point she didn't even notice Calahan sneaking behind the bar to envelop her in a bear hug.

The blonde's confusion quickly dissipated as she shook off his hold, still not taking a good look at his costume, "Rookie, keep that up and you will be stuck behind the bar the whole night. Helpin', not partying." "You're no fun.", Calahan complained as he heaved himself over the counter instead of taking the long route, winning another curse from Mary May followed by her eyes widening when she finally noticed his attire. He leaned against the bar counter as she slid a drink his way, "Do you like my costume, gorgeous?" "Where the fuck did you even find…", she shook her head, but a smile played across her lips. "I plead the fifth." "Brin,", her attention shifted to Sabrina, slipping back into bartender mode, "What are you drinkin'?" "I'm his DD tonight." "So nothing new?" She shrugged as Calahan downed his first glass for the night. "I'm gonna make you something delicious." "Thank you, M."

He shuffled closer, whispering in her ear over the music, "I will be right back, have to greet my Pyrobros. Do some rounds, recruit people for my newly founded cult." Before she could even respond, he strutted over to Hurk, Sharky, and a couple of other locals that were standing around one of the tables at the far end of the bar. "So, if Rookie's Joseph…", Mary May returned to her after serving a couple of newcomers, "I guess you're going for John? If you do need a Jacob-" Sabrina's confused frown cut her off, "I'm not wearing a costume, I thought those were optional." "No?" Blue eyes ran over her blue button-up she had left mostly unbottoned after leaving her jacket in her car. "Nope. Does it look like it?" "I mean, paired with him,", Mary May's head cocked in Calahan's direction, "I'd say yes. No pun intended." A drink was placed in front of her, and she took a sip, sweetness hitting her taste buds, "I love this one."

"Yeah?", pride shone in the blonde's gaze before it shifted to the far end of the counter to a figure sitting next to the wall, bathed in shadows, "Anyways, I was gonna suggest Lizzie over there being your Jacob." It was rare anyone called Oakley Moore Lizzie, most folks weren't bold enough to engage in a conversation with the woman, let alone use a nickname she considered forbidden. "Oaks.", Mary May called out to her, gesturing for her to come closer. Seconds ticked by before Oakley switched seats, shoulders bumping with Sabrina's as her pale gaze settled on her. It's what she considered a proper greeting that was usually confused with her being hostile and granted, most of the time, she wasn't one for tolerating small talk. "Brin." "How's Betty?" Warmth melted away the iciness in her eyes at the mention of her grandmother, "You know Nana, refuses to sit down. And is now forcing me to socialize after Cal mentioned the goddamned party. I was planning on going hunting."

Cheers and whistling drowned out her response as Calahan did a victory spin for the crowd gathered inside, spreading his hands in the air the same way Joseph did and exclaiming, "The Father? I prefer Daddy, my children. Sin tonight… make me proud!" "He's something else.", Oakley commented with a smirk as she downed her whiskey, nodding past Sabrina, "Did he actually go through with 'borrowing JoeJoe's things'?" "Unfortunately. We got a call about it this morning." The news ripped a laugh out of Moore, another rarety, "Even his ratty bible?" The stolen bible lay discarded next to Sabrina, and she moved it out of the way of whoever wanted to occupy the empty chair to her left, mindlessly flipping through it until something caught her eye. A picture was nestled between the pages, its corners frayed like it had been touched many times. "What the-", the question drew Mary May's attention, and she leaned over to peek at what she was holding. "Ask for Mercy." The woman they had met that morning stared back at her in the photograph, smiling, wearing another similar white dress. "Well, fuck me.", Oakley uttered under her breath as she too huddled closer to examine the find, "JoeJoe has a dirty little secret?"

"Ah, man, you nailed the Joe-bro look, I swear.", Hurk raised his beer to Calahan for a toast just as a slender hand came to rest on his elbow. "Hello.", a petite blonde dressed as a fairy he hadn't seen around before greeted him with a shy smile, eyelashes fluttering against her cheeks while she ogled his bare chest that was covered in temporary tattoos. The ladies sure appreciate it. Thanks, Gray. "Calahan.", he reached out his hand, giving her one of his signature grins, "And you are, beautiful?" A giggle left her as her palm touched his, "Cheyenne, but friends call me Cherry." "Cherries are my favorite.", he replied as he leaned in closer and straightened the dainty wings she had strapped around her shoulders, "You gonna dance with me, Cherry?" "I'd love to."

A song faded into another with Cheyenne melting further into him, her flowery perfume invading his senses while he wished he was dancing with somebody else. The same somebody that was currently not so secretly shooting daggers in his direction. Mary May was certainly not appreciating the view as she poured a drink to Grace Armstrong and then moved onto another customer. "You want a drink or something, baby?", Cherry's voice pulled him out of his staring, and he forced his attention back to her, offering her a carefree smile. "I have everything I need right here." Her hands traced his pecks before encircling his neck, her body moving to the rhythm as she pressed it closer to his on the small dancefloor. His head dipped at the telltale signs while she rose on the tiptoes to meet him halfway, their lips locking and for a second, he could pretend he wasn't kissing a stranger he just met.

It was even easier when they were blondes, yet those nights stung even more afterward. A coy smile took over Cheyenne when she leaned back, her lipstick smudged slightly, "Feelin' like going someplace more private?" Before he had a chance to respond, the door to the Spread Eagle flew open with such force it banged into the wall. The noise cut through the music and murmurs of the crowd, followed by a booming voice. Or what John considered booming voice that Calahan rather described as irritated child on the verge of a meltdown. "CALAHAN HARTLEY." The grin on his face didn't melt away at his name being called, instead, he pretended nothing had happened, forcing John to strain his vocal chords some more. Even his own mother hadn't ever called his name that way, no matter how much trouble he had been in. By the youngest Seed's tone, Calahan could guess he had somehow seen one of the many pictures and videos patrons had taken with him in Joseph's attire.

"I will be right back, beautiful.", he assured Cherry before sneaking out of her embrace and facing John with a wide smile, mimicking the pose his brother loved so much. "JOHNNYYY!", he hollered back, his night getting even better when the man's face twisted in rage at the sight of him, "I knew you would be tempted to come."

Sabrina spun around in her chair as a loud bang cut through the usual chatter around them, horror gripping her as John Seed marched through the entrance of the bar like he owned the place. His voice, or rather the way he screamed Calahan's name, promised trouble, especially since he had always been mostly calm during what others categorized as 'meltdowns'. "That damned bastard, having the guts to show up here.", Mary May, slammed a glass on the counter with way too much force, the liquid inside spilling over the edges as she regarded the man that viewed her business as something that needed to be shut down. Oakley had sneaked out minutes prior, saying how she needed a smoke if she was to sit through the night and since then hadn't returned. "JOHNNYYY! I knew you would be tempted to come.", Hartley yelled back, full of glee. Before she could think twice, Sabrina was out of her chair, cutting through the crowd that had grown silent as bargoers, including Joey and Pratt, watched the scene unfolding that was bound to end in disaster.

"Brin. Fuck.", Mary May called after her, but she pushed forward while Calahan himself advanced in John's direction, raising a hand adorned by his brother's rosary in the air. "I'd buy you a drink, Johnny, but don't think you're my type." "How dare you…you-", John barely managed to get any words out when he took in the Deputy's outfit, "Is my brother A JOKE to you?!" "Why, YES. YES. YES.", Hartley screamed back, "You love that word dontcha, Johnny? He is a JOKE. And let's face it, I'm wearing the look BETTER." Sabrina made it into the space that people had cleared out in anticipation of a fight breaking out, gliding between the two swiftly, knowing well enough that either men were close to unraveling and doing something drastic. "Kid.", she warned, feet planted firmly while feeling John's approach behind her, "Don't." Her gut told her she had a bigger chance at reasoning with him since Whitehorse was the one who always dealt with Eden's Gate's ruthless lawyer.

"Move, Gray.", his blue eyes were clear, signaling he wasn't nowhere near his boiling point as his fingers wrapped around her upper arm, ready to move her aside in sign of danger. Like hell I will move. "You came on OUR LAND. BROKE-" "FUCKING LEAVE MY BAR.", Mary May cut in, drawing everyone's eyes to herself, to the shotgun gripped in her hands, "RIGHT FUCKING NOW." "You…sinner.", John's rage switched target for a breath, "You've learned nothing, have you, Mary May?" "OUT.", her blue eyes narrowed, "Before I create more holes into your body since you seem to love those." "Look at you. All of you.", Calahan let out a dark laugh as John continued his speech, "Spreading the sin. Turning your backs on Eden. When the Collapse is on our doorstep."

A cacophony of curses echoed back from the crowd, furious stares zeroing behind Sabrina, and all she could imagine was the confrontation turning into a real bloodbath and how Whitehorse would chastise all of them for failing to stop it. With her thoughts getting darker by the second, she spun around, a pair of angry blue eyes settling on hers, "Mr. Seed." Something flew past her head, crashing into the wall and making her duck down on instinct. A bottle smashed into pieces, aimed at John. "How DARE-", he yelled again, but only managed to get two words out before she was cupping a hand over his mouth and pushing him out of the bar, door slamming shut behind her as the chilly air hit her at once. "Please, just leave.", she removed her palm off his face and placed herself between him and the entrance, the exterior lights of the bar dancing across his skin.

"You-", John stopped himself, a shaky breath leaving him as he regarded her, "Do you even know what he did?" "Is it worth getting hurt over? That bottle was just the beginning." He advanced forward again, expecting her to budge, allow him entry. She did none of that, unwavering while he drew near enough she could smell him - an expensive cologne drifting off him, stark contrast to most of the Project's members odors. "Go home, Mr. Seed." John shook his head, set on taking things too far, "He broke into my brother's home, took his belongings, and is wearing his clothes as a costume. They're all drunk and mocking him, and all he stands for on social media." "And you're sober and can be the bigger man by walking away." His eyes ran over her face, silence taking over as the party inside the bar continued like nothing had even happened.

"Are you wearing me as a costume, too?" "It's just a shirt, costumes are optional." "Good, because I'm not a-" "Go home.", she tried again, gentler that time around, nodding towards the truck he hadn't even bothered to park, instead stopping it in the middle of the road in his angry spell. "I'm not leaving without Joseph's bible." Sabrina nodded, "I will be right back, don't do anything, okay?" She didn't wait for him to respond, rushing back into the bar where the celebration was back in full swing with Hartley grinding against a blonde in a fairy costume. Laughter carried around her as she reached the bar and grabbed the bible, ignoring Mary May's string of questions with her mind set on solving the issue, ensuring the night didn't end in disaster. "Here.", she announced the second she was back outside, exchanging the worn copy of Joseph's Word to John. "I won't let him get away with this. Hartley should be upholding the law.", he gritted out and spun around, striding off back to his vehicle as she finally released the breath she had been holding.

Whatever relief she experienced began dissipating when seconds ticked by and he didn't drive off, instead rounding his truck in the dark, a faint light bouncing around as he examined something. "Somebody slashed my tires, Deputy. All four.", his voice carried over the quiet night. "What?" In a couple of steps, she was standing by his truck, his phone illuminating a jaded cut in the front tire. He huffed, "Leave, you say? Leave? They won't let me." "I'm-" "Sorry? Are you really, Deputy?" "You can call someone to pick you up…", she wrapped her arms around herself, the cold finally getting through her thin shirt. John shoved his phone back into his jeans pocket, "Absolutely not." "I don't know what to say, Mr. Seed." Reality was she had allowed herself a night to go out and have fun, and now she was stuck placating a hostile individual who in ways had every reason to feel bereaved.

His gaze casted behind her, aimed at the bar, making her worry he was contemplating having another go at Calahan and hunting down whoever had deflated his tires. "I can drive you home.", the words came out in a rush, her willingness to help getting her in trouble not for the first time. All she got was silence, his expression hard to read in the dark, so she pointed behind him, "My truck is over there." "That's how every horror movie starts.", he muttered back. "I thought your c-", she shook her head to dismiss what he would have no doubt taken as an insult, "Never mind." "What?" "Nothing, Mr. Seed. Would you like me to drive you home?" She took his nod as an 'Yes' and quickly moved past his truck, headed for her own as she sneaked a glance over her shoulder to assure he was following. Sabrina was the first to climb in, reaching over to unlock the passenger side door for him, but John stood frozen next it, a look of suspicion washing over his features.

"This feels like a trap." She gritted her teeth before forcing a smile his way, "You're welcome to walk home then, Mr. Seed. Some fresh air won't hurt ya.", then leaned back into her seat as she waited for him to make his choice. At the end, his pride won, and he got in reluctantly, clutching his brother's bible between his fingers as he slammed the door shut. "I carry a knife on me.", he warned as she started the Bronco, pulling out of the parking spot just as a person emerged from the shadows from the side of the Spread Eagle, the twinkling lights picking up their light blonde hair. Oakley. With her hatred of John, chances were she was the one that had struck while he was too busy inside the bar. "I do, too.", Sabrina retorted while he reached out and changed the radio station to the one Eden's Gate owned and used for propaganda.

Most of the drive to his house passed in silence, only disturbed by the way-too-cheerful choral songs. Every once in a while, she'd spare a quick look in his direction, catching him staring at her, too, while the tension in the small space only grew. The next time she did it, she found him flipping through the bible like she had done, his hands freezing when he got to the picture. She drummed her fingers against the steering wheel as he plucked the photograph and examined it. There was no shocked exclamation, no cursing in surprise like Oakley had done. John remained stoic while he stared at the picture his brother clearly valued enough to use as a bookmark in what looked like a well-read paperback. The picture was of a woman. A member of his cult. The one that was worried about his wellbeing and had enough influence over him to convince Joseph to call the police. There was a reason why both Mary May and Oakley eyed the hidden photograph with interest, why they spent a while speculating over the story surrounding Mercy.

Sabrina rolled to a stop in the driveway of the ranch, fully expecting John to jump out of her truck as soon as it wasn't moving with how extremely quiet he'd been. Instead, he remained seated, staring at his brother's bible, his features twisted into a frown. "Have yourself a good night.", she muttered, hoping it would be enough to pull him out of whatever stupor had taken over him and get him out of her vehicle. "Joseph keeps that bible on his bedside table.", he whispered, thumb brushing over the worn-out cover, "And he had the picture-" His words died down abruptly as if he suddenly remembered himself, then returned to looking out through the windshield into the darkness outside of the car, only disrupted by the Bronco's headlights. "It's none of my-" "Did you feel it, too?", John interrupted her, blue eyes moving to hers, "Even now."

A part of her warned her to mind her business, but curiosity won over it, "Felt what?" "That pull. The electricity." She said nothing, knowing her opinion were to either lie or admit he was somewhat right, which no doubt would be an ego boost to him. Truth was, something obscure, palpable hung between them, charging the air, growing stronger the closer he'd been. It doesn't matter. "Goodnight.", Sabrina repeated again and leaned over to open the door for him and make her stance crystal clear. The move was a mistake on its own because she hesitated, hand coming to rest on the door handle as his scent invaded her senses once more. "You want me to go?", he asked, watching her closely. "Yes."

Yet her fingers refused to obey, to swing the door open, prompt him to leave. Tattooed hand wrapped around hers to lift it between them, the interior light of her truck illuminating the top of his palm. The black ink that covered it. She was convinced she had stopped breathing when she pulled his arm closer, making sure she wasn't imagining things. That the tattoo her fingers were tracing was the same. That it was real, what she'd seen again and again. "Sabrina?", confusion swooped into his tone, mirroring hers. "I feel it.", her confession was barely audible, but clearly enough for him to make a choice, "It changes nothing." His eyes darkened, darting to her lips before he cupped her cheek with his free hand, "No matter. I'm still going to kiss you." No part of what he had said was a question, but she nodded anyway despite her better judgment as he leaned in, mouth covering hers.

His lips moved over her own slowly, a tingle climbing up her spine at the contact while her rational side screamed for her to push him away, no matter who he might be in her visions. It's him. Her hand braced against his chest, moving up on its own before grasping the nape of his neck and pulling him closer. It was then that she returned the kiss fully, lips parting as his own tongue darted out, a groan leaving him at the granted access. His taste took over her system while he set out on exploring her mouth, fingers intertwining with hers. A muffled tud broke the spell between them, making John pull back, staring at her intently with hunger written all over his face. "I should go. Be good." She nodded, but his hold of her hand only tightened, signaling he was torn, not exactly feeling the words. "Thing is… I don't want to.", he confirmed, licking his lips and making her wonder if he was tasting her.

"I don't, either." His gaze shifted to his feet, where Joseph's book had tumbled down onto the floor of her car before returning back to hers. "This is probably going to come back to bite me.", he uttered out, "Most definitely actually, Deputy. But… I'm asking you to come inside. See where this takes us." Her eyebrow rose up at his bold invitation, "I must have misheard you." "You didn't." Sabrina forced a laugh, "Don't you people have a rule about this?" "We do, quite frankly.", he nodded quickly, "I'm doing this despite it." "What would your brother think?", she pushed further, expecting him to fold, remember himself, and the doctrine forced upon each member. One, he clearly didn't respect enough. "What would Whitehorse think about Deputy Hartley committing a crime on private property last night?" It was the lawyer in him, the negotiator set on getting what he wanted, peeking through.

Her gaze narrowed, "What are you implying?" "We're both facing a dilemma, Deputy, toeing a line, you're keeping Hartley's secrets, covering for him. But there's a simple question - what do you want?" To head home and not get involved in a messy situation, especially after how you acted at the bar. "For you to kiss me again.", a satisfied smirk came over him at her answer, and he let go of her hand, only so he could open his door. "Come then.", he called out as he jumped down onto the gravel, gesturing for her to follow suit. His door slammed shut as she turned off the Bronco's engine and exited, rounding the truck where he met her halfway and took hold of her arm again. "One rule.", she muttered at his back as he pulled her along towards the ranch's main entrance, the overhead light coming on to life at their approach.

"What?" "You won't make a fuss about Calahan's indiscretion." He sighed like it physically pained him to let Hartley off the hook, "Fine. But this would be the first and last time." A small victorious smile danced across her lips as his hand wrapped around the doorknob and pushed his front door open, causing her to blink in shock, "You don't lock your doors, either? Of course, it runs in the family." Darkness ruled over the house aside from a dim light spilling out from the room ahead of them. "I wasn't exactly in the best mindset when I left.", John explained, leading her forward past a dining table and a lit stone fireplace that was providing the aforementioned illumination and separated the large open space in two. He spun around when he reached the other side of it, hand landing on her waist to drag her into him, "We're doing this?"

Her nod was all he needed to fulfill her previous wish, lips descending over hers as he took a couple of steps backward until he was lined with the couch that faced the fireplace and he lowered his body onto the leather surface, bringing her down with him. She straddled his lap on instinct, sinking further into the kiss while his fingers traveled beneath her shirt, coming to rest just at the edge of her bra. Like he had done before, he broke their liplock, leaning back to regard her as his hand made it past the lace garment, cupping her breast. "Look at you,", she said before lowering her mouth to his and whispering, "sinning." He pinched her nipple in warning, "Haven't even begun." A surprised yelp left her when John shifted until he was lying on top of her, undoing her jeans as he held her gaze and dragged them down her legs enough to have better access. "You want to stop, you tell me.", he instructed before he stole another kiss, hand moving from her waist down her abdomen and beneath her underwear.

One finger pushed inside her, swiveling into her wetness, more pooling at his touch and the satisfied growl that broke free from him. "More.", Sabrina ordered, buckling against his palm to get more friction to her clit before he complied, adding another digit to the mix as he began pumping in and out of her heat. "You're dripping for me." "Yes.", the word made it past her lips before she could think better of it, a grin appearing on his face as he repeated the movement again. Slowly that time, tantalizing her, hinting at his plan. "John.", she groaned in annoyance, "Don't you dare go there." He shook his head, "Say it again." "No." "Again and you're getting another finger." "He was right. You are weird during sex." "Who?", his eyebrows scrunched up in confusion as his hand halted inside her. She rolled her eyes, "Calahan."

"Why am I not surprised the pest was talking about me." He resumed the previous infuriating pace, prolonging giving her what she wanted. "Say it, Deputy.", John repeated, and when she shook her head in defiance, he added, "I'd sweeten the deal." "How?", she moaned out when his thumb brushed against her clit, adding pressure before retreating. "Another finger.", he dropped a kiss across her lips, "My mouth. And then…" She hated how his talking alone had an effect on her, turning her on. "Then what?" He took his time considering the question before whispering, "You get to ride me." "And if I don't?" "Mmm..", his mouth lowered to her neck, sucking on the tender skin as his fingers kept the same slow pace, while her arousal grew, dripping down his hand, "I take my time. Wear you down. And, be assured, I'd enjoy every minute of it, Sabrina."

"Once." "Hm?" "I'd only say it once, don't be pulling any dirty tricks on me, Seed." "Deal.", he muttered and halted his teasing altogether, waiting for her to follow through with her part of the agreement. A shuddered breath left her when his thumb circled her clit again as encouragement, "Yes." "Such a freeing word.", John rose up, clutching her panties and pulling them down past her knees. His lips lowered to her belly, kissing a path over it while his hands spread her thighs apart, positioning her the way he wanted her. "No games." He tsk-tsked, "Where would be the fun then?" Her protests were cut short when his mouth found her center, tongue licking away at her arousal and drawing more out of it as result. "You taste so sweet. To think I almost walked away.", he remarked, peeking at her from between her legs, before diving back in for more.

Her noises urged him on as she climbed towards a powerful climax, three fingers entering her like he had promised, lips wrapping around her clit and adding much needed pressure. She rocked against his hand, sinking further into the pleasure, almost forgetting who was delivering it to her, how they had ended up there in the first place. His name ripped off her lips as she came, his thrusts picking up and only heightening the sensation. "That's it. Give in. Let it all pour out for me.", she ignored how close he sounded to his preachings in the cursed broadcasts, "There's more where that came from." He moved up her body, little tremors still coursing through her limbs as he kissed her, giving her a taste of herself. "Can you handle more?", he challenged, rising up on his heels while his hands worked on undoing his belt and jeans to leave him down to his underwear, his erection's outline pressing against the material, begging for release.

"You tryin' to trick me?" He smirked, "Nothing of sorts." "You haven't delivered on everything yet.", Sabrina reminded him as she got up too, fingers grasping the waistband of his boxers, and pulling them down. "Protection.", he mumbled to himself, "I don't-" "What… you don't do this a lot?" His look of disbelief made her chuckle, "Absolutely not." "I'm on the pill." Her hand wrapped around him, stroking his cock a couple of times as he contemplated the idea. "Yes.", he answered finally, sitting back down onto the couch, still mostly clothed aside from his nether regions. Sabrina stripped off her boots, pants, and underwear completely to ensure nothing would obstruct her mobility, his eyes following her the whole time, tongue darting out to lick his lips. With her clothes out of the way, she threw her leg over his hip, straddling him as her hand lined his tip with her entrance.

She sank down onto him slowly, relishing every inch, judging by his measured breathing and how his features twisted in concentration, he was doing the same. Trying to maintain his control. "So tight.", he gritted out, "You gonna move for me, Deputy?" She rocked against him slowly, her sleakness making her glide up and down his shaft with ease, the sounds of pleasure filling the darkened room paired with the crackling of the fire. "You're killing me here.", he whined against her lips, fingers gripping her hips to dictate the pace. "Riding you. It's what you said." "Yes." "So, let me do that. Have patience." "Deputy…" She grasped his hands, moving them to her chest, "If you want something to hold, the girls are feeling a bit ignored." "We can't have that.", John caught up quick, unbuttoning her shirt while she resumed riding him.

Her bra came undone next as he made work of the front clasp in a blink, baring her completely to him. "I will rectify the situation.", he vowed in a serious tone, his mouth swooping down to her chest, paying attention to each breast individually. His compliance caused her to move faster, arousal coating his length as she squeezed her muscles around him in attempts to coax his orgasm out. "You feel so good for a Seed. Who could have known…", she teased and let out a yelp when his teeth grazed her nipple at the jab. It wasn't long before she stumbled over the edge, her walls clenching around him and drawing his own climax, making him let go with a groan. Her name fell from his lips as he spilled inside her. "Oh, John.", she muttered quietly against his neck, euphoria overwhelming her system. "Bold and brave?", he chuckled, "It seems somebody's been listening to our radio station." A hand swatted at his chest, "You're totally ruining the moment."

He hummed in disapproval, arms encircling her body as she snuggled into him more, "Sleepy?" "A little bit." "My bed awaits." "You're asking me to actually stay over?" A series of kisses covered her collarbone, tracing her butterflies tattoo, "I'm far from done with you." She broke out of his embrace, an emptiness settling between her legs as she rose up, convincing herself she couldn't allow him to take things even further than he already had. "Deputy.", he called out, still seated on the couch, watching her while she gathered her clothes from the ground and huffed at his release running down her thigh and making it impossible to get dressed without creating a mess. His gaze met hers, shadows and light dancing across his features and partly obsecuring his expression, "What?" "You're not going to need them.", she opened her mouth to speak, but he waved her off, getting up too and snatching her clothes from her to drop them on the couch, "We're going to my bedroom."

"John.", his name was paired with a sigh at his tone that left no room for arguments. He made quick work of taking off his own boots, jeans, and boxers, pulling her in by her waist as his lips hovered over hers, "Go. Run. And you can keep thinking back to this moment, wishing you made a different choice, or you could be honest about what you want… How much you want it." His hand grasped her backside, and she could feel him hardening between them again while he kissed her, coming for breath only to add, "I'd like to fuck you on an actual bed instead of having my sweaty skin sticking onto old leather… might as well be comfortable seeing how I broke so many rules already." The idea he actually cursed out loud made her snort, "Fuck me?" "That's the plan. Just say 'Yes'. Are you staying?" Of course you're fishing for your favorite word again. Silence settled around them, heavy with possibility, with the realization he was infuriatingly correct she'd regret it.

He brushed her hair out of her face, "Your eyes are so expressive, you know that? I could basically see the battle within. Which option is winning?" Her hands traveled up his chest, locking around his neck, "Yes. Happy?" What she got as reply was a triumphant grin before he hoisted her up, legs wrapping around his waist as he rounded the couch, moving with determination with her in his arms. "Someone's in a rush. How long has it been?", she joked while he took the stairs two at a time, getting to the second floor of the ranch in couple of beats. "Way too long, Deputy." Darkness engulfed them as he headed down a hallway, pushing a door open with his free hand that wasn't holding onto her. It was where he finally dropped her to her feet, the coldness of the hardwood floors meeting as it shut with a click behind them. John was on the move again, his footsteps being her only indicator in the pitch black, then a table lamp next to his bed came to life, illuminating the space and his nearing form with faint glow.

Her eyes took in her surrounding, bouncing from his bed, sheer curtains and wooden interiors of the room, to the ordinary furniture and two doors leading who knew where before they settled on his chest as he discarded his shirt and reached out for her again. A combination of scars and tattoos marred his skin. A small old key hanging around his neck. "Not what you expected?", he asked when his hand found her cheek, caressing her skin gently. Your bedroom or the fact you're someone I've been seeing for years? "I don't know what I expected." He nodded and moved onto her own shirt, pushing it down her arms until it pooled at her feet, her lace bra following in its wake. "Definitely weren't dressed as me, eh, Deputy?" She gave him a pointed look, "I told you-" "You'd look good in my shirt. I wouldn't mind you stealing that." Her laugh was a surprised one, "Careful what you wish for… I might be planning my costume for next year already."

"Beautiful.", he whispered as his eyes ran over her naked body, thumb breezing over her bottom lip and slipping into her mouth, eyes darkening when she sucked on it, "Patience. Remind me of that, in case I forget." Sabrina nodded, releasing his digit with a pop, and he pushed her backward, mouth clashing into hers when her legs met the edge of his bed. The soft matress engulfed her body as he settled over her, hand coming to rest beside her head to keep his weight off her while the other traveled down her stomach and slipped inside her for a brief moment before retreating. Her palms braced against his chest, running over the hard planes as her thighs fell open more, urging him to act. Anticipation swam within her when his fingers grasped his lenght, his tip brushing across her wetness a couple of times before finally pushing in slowly despite how wet she was and the desire she could see in his eyes.

A stray piece of hair had fallen over his forehead, and she smoothed them away, muttering, "Fill me up already." "I'm trying to be patient here. Not embarrass myself.", his expression was focused, like he refused to fully give in, act on his urges, let his composure slip. "Fuck patient. Better yet, fuck me as promised." He blinked, considering her words before thrusting all the way in and ripping a moan out of her as her walls enveloped him, and more followed when he began to move. "I'm starting to think going after the Deputy tonight wasn't the worst idea I've had to date.", he groaned against her mouth while at the same time he threw her leg over his shoulder, sinking in deeper into her at the new angle. "He sure would die laughing if he knew how the night unfolded after I broke you two apart." "He'd be obnoxious about, wouldn't he?", he chimed in, "Probably claim it was what he had planned all along to get me back for the previous time."

She couldn't help but smile at his annoyance, "Possibly." "Most definitely.", John insisted, pairing his next words with a hard thrust, "I couldn't stop thinking about you today." "Yeah?" She did her hardest to match his movements as a climax began to build within her, and her legs parted to take more of him. "Yes.", he gritted out, a giggle escaping her at the memory of Calahan's theory about his habits in bed, "Something amusing, Sabrina?" "No." There was doubt in his gaze, but he let her answer slip, emphasizing each word with a rock of his hips, "First time I saw you up close… I imagined it so many times." Her eyes widened at the bold confession and idea he had been thinking of her to begin with, "For how long?" "Since you moved here, but I had to be good, telling myself I wasn't missing anything."

In ways Hartley had been right about the signs and his theories about John's frustration. Regret slipped over his features, prompting her to cup his bearded cheek, "I'm here now." "That you are, and I plan on making up for that lost time.", he said with conviction, slowing his pace as his hand slipped between them to rub her clit. With a couple of flicks across it paired with his thrusts, the release she could feel twisting and twirling inside her came to a crescendo. His name rolled off her tongue, causing him to smirk while he continued to move, head dipping down to whisper in her ear and sending a shiver all over her body while her hands fisted the satin sheets beneath her, "Think you can come again before I do?"

Minutes later she found herself completely spent, laying snuggled in the crook of his arm while her fingers traced a lazy pattern across his chest. "Three times.", he noted with pride, hand running down her back under the soft covers, "I'm thinking we can break that record next time." Next time? Sabrina ignored the off-hand comment, assuming he hadn't meant anything by it, that he was just still basking in his own climax after demonstrating how dead set he was on holding off until he couldn't physically anymore. "Should I expect you to show up at the Sheriff's tomorrow?" "Today.", he corrected her, "And no, Deputy. I promised, didn't I? Hartley is off the hook until whatever he does next comes back to bite him." Her grin was concealed against his neck and she placed a kiss on his skin, "Thank you."

"Does that mean you're due to work in few hours?" "Mhm.", she hummed absently, "Why?" "I might pay you a visit instead.", his caress was slowly lulling her to sleep, especially with how relaxed she felt as she laid in the embrace of someone considered enemy of the County. When she said nothing, he took her silence as agreeance to his idea, adding, "We could see that the theft case gets closed." Her fingers froze against his chest as it was toying with the metal key nestled between his pecks, eyes lifting up to meet his baby blues, "I never opened one, you wanted to handle things yourself, remember? Play detective." "I will think of something else.", he said nonchalantly, "Like my truck's slashed tires… All four of them, a serious enough offense." "John." "Yes?" "This…", she paused, wondering what she had gotten herself into, "it can't happen again."

It was then that she got her first confirmation he had been serious upon mentioning 'a next time', coming in the form of a determined look he gave her before uttering out, "We shall see about that, Deputy." The same one he wore each time he argued with Whitehorse, refusing to back down no matter how much the Sheriff tried to placate him. If how impossible to shake off he had proven to be when it came to Calahan, she didn't dare think what it would take for him to give up after their night together. A part of her didn't know if she wanted him to, no matter how disastrous the consequences promised to be.

Tagging, @adelaidedrubman @socially-awkward-skeleton @direwombat @onehornedbeast @theelderhazelnut @cassietrn @madparadoxum @voidika @corvosattano @unholymilf @purplehairsecretlair @josephslittledeputy @josephseedismyfather @trench-rot @florbelles @g0dspeeed @aceghosts @simplegenius042 @thesingularityseries @the-silver-chronicles @nightbloodbix @clicheantagonist @wrathfulrook @harmonyowl @jillvalentinesday @shegetsburned @sstewyhosseini and anyone with something to share <3

#Calahan has so many gems in this one 🤣🤣🤣#but somehow “Paint me like your local cult leader; not one of your french girls.” is my favorite ☠️☠️#him roasting John and Joseph and just riling him up is peak; the tattoo session is just such a dynamic to have with your bestie #then we have all the pinning after Mary May; Oakley's cameo; Mer and Jacob being their usual selves #Jacob being a lil weirdo with Sabrina (what could have been if John wasn't on her mind 24/7)#Mary May pulling out a shotgun at John for walking into her bar and making a scene ☠️☠️👏👏 go girly #Savannah is adorable; give her all the candyyy; Cal being excited for Halloween and wanting sweets too 🥺#John suspecting he's gonna get horror movied if he gets in Sabrina's car and then being like fuck it sinnin time Joe is sinnin too #“Oh John” making a cameo and her being like stoop you're ruining the moment 🫠#i never expected to be so stoked with this drabble but mannn cal brings such unhinged dialogue to the table #oc: calahan hartley #oc: sabrina donovan #wip: in hope of tomorrow #fc5 ocs #far cry 5 oc #fc5 deputy #john x sabrina #ship: the diviner and the baptist #joseph seed #john seed #john seed x female deputy #myedits #mygifs #oc: oakley moore #mary may fairgrave #oc: savannah donovan #halloween #halloween edit #fc5 meme #wip wednesday

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leonardoeatscarrots · 2 years ago

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Art therapy is so fun because today I just drew pathologic fanart, and my therapist was like, "Awesome, so tell me about it"

#pathologic 2 #pathologic #artemy burakh #мор утопия #my post #art therapy #i spent a couple hours playing on my birthday recently and it just made me so happy #i had to explain to my therapist what the game was #at first she was like “are you sure you should be playing that?”#but then she started to get really excited when i told her about how ive been using it to help manage stress n shit #plus hyperfixation mode activated #my stress tolerance and ability to break down tasks has improved so much because of this game #its literally my favourite #sobbing crying #did i mention i love this game?#anyway she said it was very insightful and im so happy because all i had to do was be autistic for half a session #also no. you may not see the image #i didn’t have a reference so its off model lmaooo #may redo the concept on digital ::3

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gristlegrinder · 8 months ago

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i feel like i need some kind of tag for my demon game. tentatively considering #/spidersposting. i will force everybody to see my little criminals

#the full campaign name is spiders in the web but i don’t think any of us call it that #unfortunately there are some things i won’t be able to post about because 2/3 of my players follow me here but. hehehehohoho #this one’s a funky one where it’s a continuation / reboot of a game that we did for like 3+ years in college. so there’s LORE #but it’s also fresh and a lot of stuff has been polished and i’m so excited to be back in the saddle. let me at em #prob won’t start sessions until october but! i’ve been having some very fun conversations in my discord dms >:)#spidersposting

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skitskatdacat63 · 2 years ago

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Sorry guys for being completely unhinged this weekend 🙏 but I can't help it and I refuse to be normal about it

#its been a good weekend what can i say #but like seriously i think this has been the most exciting and insane wknd of my life #like in terms of my interest and hobbies it has been fucking nuts #ive been so deranged thank you mutuals for putting up with me ilysm <3 #ive screamed like actually fully screamed at the top of my lungs at least three times this weekend #(the end of that quali session and then josef winning the 500 and then the tomgreg moment)#but i feel like ive just been on crack this whole weekend #its just been insane event after insane event and ive just been completely unhinged !#but its been so much fun i dont think ive had this much excitement and fun in my life in so long #(bahrain probably hsjdjfkf)#okay anyways i need to have like at least 24 hours to calm down so bear with me #AND I STILL HAVE TO WATCH BARRY'S FINALE FUCK #but then after ive recovered from this eventful wknd ill be back on my bullshit!(gifing old stuff lolol)#okay just need to scream bcs i really just dont feel normal at all at the moment #like so many times this wknd ive had so many moments where ive been shaking and heart pounding and sweating #took like 50 years off my life but in a pleasant insane way #great fun i am having :D #again love you guys <3 #catie.rambling.txt #oops must add:#succession spoilers

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pepprs · 2 years ago

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i thiiiink my headache is finally gone. at least i desperately fucking hope so

#purrs #i could’ve pushed through it but i didn’t and now i only have one day left of this three day weekend to pack / buy stuff for the trip / prep #the redacted / get some driving practice in and i have therapy today mid afternoon and didn’t finish my homework for it bc i was overthinkin #g what im supposed to do. but aughhh i haven’t even looked at restaurants yet i haven’t even started planning i haven’t even prepped my #sessions really but im so excited but also so scared and i haven’t thought ahead far enough and i still feel the ghost of the headache and I #im SO scared i’ll get another one or like train sickness (?) during the trip or be sleep deprived one way or another. asb was a nightmare #for me bc i couldn’t sleep and this time im also responsible for the group but nowhere NEAR to the same degree / loneliness so it should be #ok but it was so bad that im rly nervous to be in that same kinda position again… but hopefully it’ll be ok #conference tag #<- WILD to be using this in the present btw. i haven’t been to an in person one of these since 2019. and a lot has changed……

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daz4i · 2 years ago

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haven't worked on my ttrpg campaign in months. got a session in 2.5 weeks. opened a doc to start planning. blacked out. came to and saw i wrote a whole page

#no I'm joking no actual blacking out here. more like hyperfocusing and not noticing time moving heh :P #the number thing is for that btw akskflgh i love adding little easter eggs to each session and this one has an evil lab so .#(not even a spoiler for my players who follow me i think. like i think they know this one's been a long time coming)#excited to see i got through most of the story for that session tho. now i just need to figure out the puzzles and then make visual aids 😎

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psychopomp-namine · 4 months ago

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me everyday for the past two weeks: I'd be doing so much if I didn't stop taking my meds (and if I didn't sprain my ankle)

#mine musings #my dnd group (excited): when are we gonna meet again?#me: uhhhhh (has not prepared for the next session yet)#my manager at work: hey so jsyk the thing blocking your work on this is done so you can start on it whenever you're free #(he's not rushing me i know he just meant it as an update)#me: (has been fighting my brain to redirect attention where i need it to be) gotcha i'll be right on it :) (lying)#myself: man i really need to write again. i've been sitting on this draft for months #my brain: but i can't focus on doing anything. sorry :(#i also haven't continued my language lessons asdfghjkl like i just need to LOCK IN on an activity i swear

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connormoving · 5 months ago

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ive always wanted to play dnd but truly i think its too late for me and i just dont have it

#im wayyyy too ashamed to like. roleplay nowadays due to my dark and twisted past #my dads always played dnd like my whole life we were gonna do a campaign together me him and lamp when i was 13 i was sooooo excited we #planned it 4 weeks and weeks and weeks. months even. and we were gonna do it on a sundayyy so hed be off workk and it was gonna be such an #awesome day bc we were going to the zoo in cinci first and then wed come home and play dnd my first ever time playing dnd with my dad and m #sibling and i was so excited. BLANK STARE .#so anyways ive never played dnd i like. kind of dmed one session ages ago with groomer That fucking guy and ykw but that ended afte #session 0 i was the only one who actually wanted to continue bc i rly wanted to play dnd with my friends LOLLL. its so funny in retrospect #bc i was like 13 playing dnd for the first time as a dm trying to manage 3 ppl who were all older than me #g was 18-19 tfg was 16-17 and ykw was like 14-15. and all of them had played dnd before but they were making me dm for some reason #wtvr. so that went nowhere #and then me and ykw talked abt doing a dnd thing together allll the time we were even making a campaign together but it just never ended up #happening. and then all that happened and then all of his friends would come over and play dnd together in the kitchen i wasnt allowed to b #in when they had guests over (my room (garage) could only be accessed from the laundry room which could only be accessed from the kitchen.)#so there was nowhere else i could go lol. and the walls were thin so id always just hear them laughing and having a good time and it was rl #awesome for me and im SOOOOOO glad i fucking moved to wa im actually so fucking glad about it and rly happy too im so fucking glad i got to #do that. WHATEVER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i got upset. sorry everyone..... ill do a silly little dance as penance #anyways. i say all this to say i dont think ill ever be able to play dnd bc like ik there r like. groups or whatever you can join but that #sounds miserable and i also feel like i cant play dnd for the first time at age 20+ like. everybody else will have already played and ill #be stupid abt everything and look dumb and Even if they were my friends and not total strangers theyd fucking hate me . So yes its so sad #idk. tag apparently has started playing dnd with my dad which is nice for them genuinely im glad they get to umm. have that. ok anyways im #gonna go slam my head into a wall a whole lot of times

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arminsumi · 6 months ago

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... hubby!Gojo with a huge breeding kink who just obsesses over you when you're ovulating and can't think about anything else but fucking a baby into your hips.

+ warnings; mdni, breeding kink, some dumbification

+ an; I literally had this idea in my drafts for a year... 😳

Maybe he's got a freaky sixth sense, maybe it's just because he's got heightened senses, or maybe there's some scientific studies to back it up; but Gojo can smell when you're ovulating. And it turns him on — of course it does. He has a bigger breeding kink than you do.

"Oh, you're ovulating." he notes after sniffing your skin... and you do a double take like he's insane. Because he is insane — you married a madman.

He pays closer attention to your cycle than you do, reminding you to mark down when you get your period, and coddling you in the days leading up to ovulation.

"Satoru, it's just an estimation." you tell him, but he's got a glow in his eyes when he sees your period tracker app telling him that today's your most fertile day — if he cums in you today, it's basically guaranteed.

He researches positions that help conception, bends and pushes you into them, and fucks you deep with his thick cock, going harder on your poor hole than he normally does — grunting more than he normally does, throbbing more than he normally does... like it just awakens something primal in him, and now he's obsessively fucking you like he has no other purpose but to breed his sweet little wife.

"Nn! Satoruuu!" you whine and paw at his torso, your walls overwhelmed by the pressure of his cock splitting you open.

"Yes babyyy?" he coos, giving you a crooked, blissed-out smile as he tilts his head.

There's sweat dripping off his abs, his pink nipples are hard, his biceps are twitching, and he's running one hand through his dampened white hair as he stills inside you for a moment.

"'s too deep! T-too big!" you moan lewdly, a bit of drool escaping the corner of your mouth.

"...aw, I know I'm just too big for ya, huh?" he coos cockily; hearing you tell him that he's 'too big' never gets old.

He's so determined to give you his baby that he tries everything to increase the chances; staying inside you for 5 minutes after shooting his load in, having you rest with a pillow under your back so your hips are raised — "Gotta help my lil' guys swim." he acts like an idiot about it, but sweetly so. Nothing excites him more than the idea of being a dad, except the idea of fathering your children.

After sex, when the two of you are cleaning up, Satoru feels over and massages your tummy with a small smile on his face. He's lost in thought, hair all messy and face tired like he's run a marathon, hopeful that this time he got you pregnant.

He'll pamper you like his queen, humming and going to the ends of the earth to get you anything you ask for. He really fawns over you when you're ovulating, and lays on the compliments thick while snuggling your neck and creeping his fingers up your thighs — pretty soon he'll sink them inside and stretch you out on them, preparing you for what he cutely calls "baby making" but is actually sweaty, nasty, kinky sex — there's a definite difference in the cute, snuggly sex and the literal breeding sessions no matter how much he plays it off.

"Satoru... my legs are still weak after this morning, give me a break, will you?"

"Aw come on, this is an innocent request... and if babymaking happens, it happens..." he mutters the last part under his breath.

"You're crazy."

But you know you're gonna fall for it after you take one look at his rock-hard, juicy pink, dummy big cock and those breeder balls.

He just beams victoriously when you hop over to him like a little bunny.

Satoru's pushes into you as deep as your pussy allows him, and then some more just to pressure your deepest spot, pinning your wrists down and whispering sultrily into your ear about how well you take him, how beautiful you look, how good it feels to fuck your fertile pussy knowing that he'll most definitely get you pregnant because his cum is perfect; thick and sticky and gooey and pungent, perfect just like he is — the cocky bastard.

When his creampies makes you cum, A-spot pressured with his pulsing tip, he grins so wide that you scold him about it.

"Stop grinning like a psychopath." you pant.

He just looks up at you, face hardly an inch away, and asks a dumb, smiley "D'you feel pregnant?" ... as if it happens so fast.

"Gee, I don't know, we should go again just to make sure — that was a joke, that was a joke! Nn! Satoru!" too late, he's flipping you over and slowly filling you up again.

And oh god Satoru loves sliding back in for round twos. The smell of sex and cum wafting up and hitting his nose just makes him plunge back into your cum-filled little hole with only one thing in mind and that is breeding you 'till you're stuffed to the max.

"Come on, y' gonna be a good wifey for me and get knocked up?" he rasps against your ear, thrusting his cock up into your sensitive spots until his creampies turn into whipped cream, frothed up and milky-white and smeared on your pussy lips.

Like the nasty boy he is (and always has been, even before marriage), Satoru forces your head down and makes you watch him fuck his dummy big cock into you.

"Yeah, watch that cock fill you up... look at all my cum leaking out..." he tuts, "... don't be so wasteful, baby... oh well, 'm gonna fuck it back into you anyways. Come on, let me in deeper — aw, what's wrong?" he coos when you claw at his meaty bicep.

"'toruuu, so deep! Y-you're so fucking deep, I can't think..."

His heart pangs when he hears you complain about being too stuffed, "Oh baby you don't need to think, just lay there and let me put a baby in your sweet pussy — gonna fuck you so dumb, the only name you'll remember is mine."

Of course, he has to get a creampie in every day. Sometimes even a few times a day. Sometimes even at 4 AM, and you swat him for being a horny idiot — but it takes five minutes to give in because you can hear the need in his voice when he whines "Please?" and starts humping against you, "I've got so much cum for you." he tells you and though it sounds so sweet in his soft, bedroom voice it's hard to take him as an innocent man, because his thick boner is grinding hard and hot between your plush lips.

You can bet you'll probably only get to sleep when the birds are chirping, 'cause your hubby's balls are too heavy and full of cum and he needs to drain himself inside you — oh, and you can also bet that afterwards he will be sleeping like a princess, clinging to you with his face snuggled into your tummy.

#mdni #tw: smut #gojo #gojo smut #gojo x reader smut #gojo x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo satoru smut #satoru smut #satoru gojo smut #satoru gojo x reader #jjk x reader #jjk #gojo satoru #smut #fluff

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bizarrelovetriangel · 21 days ago

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interruptions.

all he wants is to have you all to himself but everyone keeps getting in his way.

fluff and slightly suggestive. brief references to chaotic velocity and his myth.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

He groans against your lips as his hands caresses your hips, urging you to grind against his thighs.

His bedroom is silent apart from the sounds of your exchange of heated kisses, your heavy breaths in-between, as well as the rustling of your clothes as your bodies yearn for friction.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

Sylus thrusted up to let you feel his excitement, and you responded by palming him through his pants, earning a low growl from his parted lips.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

You pulled away as the ringtone of his phone blares closely next to you. You gave him a look before he pinches his temples and reaching for the device on his night stand.

"You better have a good reason to interrupt me on such an important time."

This is the third time in just two days.

Sylus doesn't know how much more interruptions he can take.

"Looks like I'll have to cut our time short again." Sylus frowns as he gets up from the bed. "I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you, I promise."

"Don't worry about it."

Being Onychinus' leader can be demanding, so you're not mad at him at all. In fact, at the moment, you're doing your best to hold back a laugh.

"Before you leave, maybe take a cold shower first."

Two days later, as you were leaving your workplace, you ran into your lover who's dressed in his favorite leather jacket, bathing in darkness.

"Sylus?! What are you doing here?"

It's the middle of the week. You usually don't get to see each other until the weekends, unless spontaneous plans come up. You figured this is one of those special cases.

"Do I need a reason to see my girlfriend?"

"No, but you do need to be cautious when picking up said girlfriend from her job, which may or may not be interested in catching some suspicious people who love lurking in the shadows."

There's not an ounce of worry in his eyes at all. "Luckily, I have a strong kitten who'd protect me should anyone dare to put their hands on me."

You playfully punched his arm as you walked next to him. "You could've at least texted me."

"A surprise usually works out only if someone doesn't know what'll happen." He then taps your head. "There's a restaurant that I've been meaning to check out. Want to come?"

Your heart and stomach cheered happily, deeming him as your savior. After all, you're starving after such a long day at work. "Of course!"

Around ten at night, dinner was done and you ended up relaxing at an empty, quiet park. You sat down on a bench surrounded by red flowers and you rested your head on his left arm while he holds your right hand.

At first, the two of you enjoyed the moment of silence and appreciated each other's warmth and company.

You could've fallen asleep then and there.

If only Sylus didn't start leaving kisses all over your face. He dropped them one by one, slowly and softly, as if you're something precious that could vanish at any second if he isn't careful enough.

As his lips pressed against yours, his right hand brushes up and down from your knee to your thigh, warming up your body during the cold night.

Sylus' ragged breaths urged you to deepen the kiss while caressing his face, though your makeout session was short-lasted as a group of chatty, cackling teenagers had decided to hit up the very spot that you two are in.

Clicking his tongue, Sylus stood up and reached out one hand for you. "I guess this is our sign to leave. Shall we?"

"Yeah."

You couldn't even bother to hide your disappointment that your time together was once again shortened.

He came with you back at your apartment, though Sylus couldn't stay the night due to plans he has later on.

He wasn't even supposed to see you tonight; he forced it in his busy schedule because his urge to see you was just unbearably strong during these past few days, and the constant interruptions are absolutely not helping.

It's as if the world is purposely getting in the way.

The next interruption came during dinner at a restaurant that you and Sylus have been wanting to visit for months. You made a reservation two weeks ago, and you got to enjoy all the delicious meals and drinks that made the place worthy of Sylus' attention.

You were given the best seats in the restaurant, which would be the special table on the rooftop, decorated with dimmed, beautiful lights to illuminate the dark night, and flowers for your eyes and nose to feast on.

As you were finishing up your wine, you walked towards the edge of the rooftop to observe the scenery around you.

For a moment, Sylus remained seated, only shifting his position so that he could admire you in your beautiful dress.

It's one of his favorite views — you facing away from him, eyes beaming with happiness and lips curled into a soft smile, completely lost in the scenery around you and unaware of how bewitching you are and the trance that you always put him in.

He'll never get tired of it.

"Sylus, look!"

At your call, he appears behind you and immediately wraps his arms around your waist. He gave you a light kiss on the shoulder before moving his gaze to wherever you were pointing at.

Unfortunately, Sylus never got to learn what caught your interest because suddenly, you received signals that a Wanderer is nearby.

And so, dinner ended early and you spent the rest of your energy jumping in action.

The Wanderers certainly became Sylus' punching bags for the night.

At last, you finally won some time to spend in the N109 Zone.

You're at his house and you've just finished eating the dessert that you two made together a few hours ago.

And now, you find yourself trapped against the counter table with Sylus blocking all the ways to escape.

"Can't run from me now, kitten."

His lips touched yours.

"Boss, look what we found!"

"...."

"....oops..."

"...sorry!"

Luke and Kieran were frozen by the entrance of the kitchen, almost dropping the fancy looking weapon they were carrying.

You let out a laugh to break the silence. "Hey guys!"

Sylus sighs defeateadly. He did acknowledge the twins and the gift they brought to him by giving them a quick but sincere "well done" before turning back to you with a certain glint in his eyes. "I hope you're up for a midnight ride."

"Wait what?!"

He took your left hand and started leading you out of the kitchen.

"Right now?!"

Luke and Kieran only gave you a wave of their hands, still feeling guilty about the interruption. Sylus didn't look mad at them, but he does look frustrated.

Whatever he has planned out with you, they know not to interrupt. Even Mephisto stayed still after giving you a look.

"Here."

Sylus helped you put on a black and red helmet that matches the one he's about to wear.

You eyed the motorcycle and couldn't hold back your excitement.

"Blackrose Archfiend!"

The half-black, half-pink motorcycle with the trademark of a golden crow made you recall the first time you and Sylus rode it and race against other motorcyclists.

"It's been a while!"

Sylus smirks proudly. "I modified it again. I meant for us to test it out tomorrow when we have more time, but this is gonna be our ticket to peace and quiet so we'll use it now."

"Ticket to peace and quiet?"

He ascends the motorcycle and turns on its engine before reaching out a gloved hand for you, inviting you to join him.

"Will you let me be selfish for a little while?"

With a soft smile, you took his hand and sat behind him, holding onto his waist.

You didn't care where he'll take you or how long it'll take to get there.

Your heart races at the adrenaline rush from the roar and speed of the motorcycle, and the cold wind dances all around you as you dart across the moonlit, empty roads of the N109 Zone.

A high mountain roadside, underneath the stars.

That's where you ended up in.

Other than the noises made by the animals that live in the surroundings, there's absolutely no other sounds that'll disturb the comfortable, peaceful silence.

The only light source you have is the full moon right above you, but that's more than enough for you to see the look of content in Sylus' face.

His features are highlighted in such a way that makes him look like an artwork that deserves to be admired by many, and yet you're the only lucky one to see him like this at this.

"You're staring, sweetie."

"And what about it?"

He smiled and scooted closer to you so that your arms are overlapping as you sit on a giant boulder planted deeply on the ground.

"That means I get to stare at you as much as I want in return, right?"

You held up one hand in front of your face and used it as a wall to block his intense gaze. "No!" The way he gazes at you makes your stomach want to explode with various emotions.

No matter how long you've been together, he never fails to make you flustered as if it's just the beginning of your relationship.

Sylus laughed at your hand before intertwining his fingers with yours and putting your conjoined hands on your lap.

"You're mine for the rest of the evening, sweetie. Any objections?

You shook your head, melting at his words. "Not at all."

Despite your playful rejection earlier, Sylus' eyes were unable to keep away from you, finding you more entrancing than anything around you. While he could look at the moon, the stars, and the city lights, he can always see them every night.

He can't say the same for you.

Once upon a time ago, he lost you and you lost him. It was like having your entire world ripped away from you.

The day he found you again... he'll never forget the way that it felt. It was like seeing light for the first time in forever. Like gasping for air after holding your breath for so long.

He's reminded of how lucky he is to be given a second chance of a life with you. Even though he complains about the distance between your homes and your jobs sometimes get in the way of your plans, he'll always be grateful that he can spend any time with you at all.

He'll always cherish every second with you, and he will never take you for granted.

You didn't keep track of the time at all. You two sat there and enjoyed each other's presence, talking about whatever comes up in your head while admiring the stars above and the lights of the N109 Zone from below.

There were times when you two would pause your conversations and just embrace the silence, bringing nothing but comfort that made you want to cuddle — and you did.

At some point, your body had been enveloped by his arms. You're seated between his legs and your back is against his chest. You could feel his steady heartbeat that would occassionally lose its rhythm.

You're spared from the wind's icy kiss, but not from Sylus' warm, gentle ones.

It started off with him casually dropping kisses on random parts of your face. Sometimes, while you're in the middle of rambling, his lips will linger on your skin and you'd forget everything that you were about to say.

Then, his kisses gradually became more fierce. From the moment he fixated on your neck, you'd become a mess that's unable to talk.

After leaving a couple of marks, Sylus wore a satisfied grin before diving into your lips with his own.

He kissed you over and over and over again, taking full advantage of the isolation. Finally, no one can interrupt.

No one can take you away from him ever again.

#happy sylus week!#love and deepspace #sylus #sylus x reader #sylus love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #lads #sylus lads #lads sylus #lnds #lads x reader #love and deepspace x reader #lynnsfics

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simpjaes · 4 months ago

Text

SWEET LITTLE MONEY MAKER. ― S.JY

When your best friend quite literally gifts you an entire man, you realize that you’re in no place to pretend that you don’t love it. or the one where you’re very much an “i don’t need a man” type of person, and Jake shows you that you do, in fact, need a man….him, you specifically need him. Only because he needs you.

MDNI! reblogs help writers, so please show your support through a reblog! PAIRING ― stripper!sim jaeyun x rich!afab reader

WORDCOUNT― 13.6k

CONTENT― he’s a switch and desperately wants to be ur sugar baby, you’re a boring rich bitch who has no interest at first, masturbation, reader is kind of power-hungry, jake chokes her NOTE ― if you’ve read this before, specifically for jeno, hi. that was written by me back in 2022 except now it’s way better and not an absolute trash-fire. enjoy! not proof read kind of.

nsfw tags under cut::

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

NSFW TAGS― jake is a stripper so obv dancing and stripping, HE’S VERY SWITCH BUT MOSTLY SUBBY HERE, hand job, masturbation, choking without permission, finger fucking, making out, protected sex omg GASP, slight nipple play, riding, lil bit of stomach bulge, sensitive cock continues to get fucked lmfao

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

It was a gift, or rather, he was the gift.

A downpayment of six hundred dollars told you enough about the man. It’s obvious he offers his services to lonely, sad, rich women who have no one else to spend their money on. A parasite, a leech, is what he is. Yet, still, your best friend has been taunting you with the idea for months in an attempt to have you give the guy a try.

She had apparently heard of the infamous Jake through various means. All rich women, all lonely and unsatisfied women. Which, to you only seems like a fucking insult to be taunted with the very idea of hiring this man. What is she implying? That you’re lonely and unsatisfied? Please.

Some best friend. Then again, she has since experienced Jake herself, and now her taunting feels more like…promises.

“He’s so clean, toned, and oh god–” She had paused with a flush across her cheeks as she thought back to the heated night. “The way he moves, shit, he teases so much. I could have died right then and there if he were to–”

The expression of disinterest on your face did not halt her doting, nor did the blatant grimace you eventually shot at her. Genuinely, you cannot take her seriously. Already you know too much about her, which is nice and all, but you could do without the details of her little stripper friend and how “wet” he left her.

“I even heard that sometimes he even gives special treatments with his services…” She had rolled her eyes after she said that, almost looking offended. “Not that I'd know or anything, he took my cash and left when our session was up.”

You recall knowing exactly what that “treatment” probably entailed, and the reason your best friend didn’t get it was likely due to the fact that she’s, well, not that rich. You’d assume such an expensive man wouldn’t give special treatments to women who wouldn’t end up being repeat customers anyway. Or, maybe, he just wasn’t trying to drain her dry.

And even with all of the information being dangled in front of your face, practically force fed to you, the image should be more delicious than the century-old wine you have every night at dinner– for the entire duration of her doting compliments of Jake, you are simply not fucking interested. There’s other things to do in life, more to worry about than getting your body excited for someone who will never finish the job.

Last week was when your bestie told you all about her single night with him. In fact, her entire visit was just her speaking of him, of how great he is, of how alluring he is. Arguably, you see that she’s a bit obsessed. Does it make you curious? Maybe a little bit, but not enough to actually give him a go yourself. And so, after that visit, you watched her leave with a menacing, evil little glint in her eye. You ignored it, as per usual considering she’s always up to something, unaware that the visit she lends to you today is not a complimentary marketing campaign of a male stripper, no, it’s a fucking ambush.

When she appeared at your doorstep, she said nothing. She didn’t even look you in the eye, actually. Weird. She did, however, have an envelope in her hand and you were almost offended at how she threw it at you and trotted away without a single greeting or goodbye. No afternoon lunch over champagne, no gossip, no advertising. Just an envelope.

Suspicious.

Upon opening said envelope, you find that your bitch of a best friend dropped that six hundred dollar down payment, likely in an attempt to force you out of being the stick in the mud that you always are. There’s a note. Your name in bold letters, a date, a time, and a signature of none other than “Jake Sim” with a fucking website on the back.

Shortly after huffing and rolling your eyes, about two seconds from tossing her six hundred dollars in the trash, you feel your phone ping to show your best friend texting you.

Best Friend: I paid for it, you just have to tip him. a lot. tip him a lot. You: why the fuck would you buy a stripper for me?

Best Friend: you need it, trust me.

So, now here you are waiting for that knock on your door and wondering why you even tried to look nice for some dude that’s about to swing his meat in your face. Appearance, reputation, whatever. Fucking unbelievable, you think, that there’s a stripper out there that only does private parties and your own best friend thinks you need it? You could have any dick you want, why the fuck should you have to pay just to look?

He’s going to be expecting more than just you here, alone in your house. Surely, he won’t be expecting to waltz into someone’s home all oiled up only to find one very disinterested woman.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

To your dismay, Jake has apparently already been warned of you. Your best friend probably told him that you’re a nightmare, too difficult to fluster or gain an interest from. The first words out of his mouth when you opened your door was “She said you’d give me that look.”

Still, even so, your best friend wasn’t lying to him. You played the part of yourself all too well as you watched him saunter into your home as if he owned the place. You’re impressed actually, with the way he doesn’t seem to feel out of place in such a lavish room. He looks…comfortable here as he scopes out his stage for the night, like he belongs.

“Big place, looked smaller on the outside.” He says casually, filling the silence in the room since you make no attempt yourself to greet him.

You watch as he tosses his bag beside your living room couch and eyes the spacious area just in front of the large fireplace. His eyes flick to the windows, to the walls, counting the outlets and looking for shelves with space.

“The smaller the better, sometimes it feels too big in here for just me.” You finally speak, admitting a small weakness of yours almost immediately. You are lonely, despite never wanting to admit it. And you watch as he shrugs, now crouching to grab wires from his bag.

“Oh yeah?” He glances at you. “Must get lonely. What a good friend to purchase me to help you with that.”

You bite the inside of your cheek at that, noting his calm and cool tone as he talks his business. The little smirk at the corner of his lips is charming, but it’s all for show. He’s just a pretty man, that’s all he’s got going for him and you guess you can respect the hustle.

“This was not my doing.” You cross your arms, pretending to be unimpressed.

“Yeah, yeah–” He waves you off as he begins to set up, making space for small lights to set the mood, looking to see if you have a sound system he can use. “I already know that you’re new to this.” He’s still calm, still collected.

“Lucky for you, first-timers are my favorite to entertain.” He smirks again, now looking directly at you as he, now, fluffs some of your couch pillows.

Your curiosity spikes again only for a moment. You really did think that the initial meeting would be different, less casual. You half expected him to waltz in cock swinging. Wasn’t he, like, supposed to pretend to be a cop or something? You know, show up and press play on a magical stereo that didn’t exist beforehand and start vibrating on you?

Instead, he’s just setting up…fully clothed in a ratty sweater with jeans that hug his thighs. He doesn’t appear at all to be a man that gets paid to take his clothes off. It makes you wonder. Makes you want to ask questions. Then again, you still have no interest in learning about him considering you already know exactly what he will be doing soon enough.

“You’re good with the mood lighting, yeah? Or do you prefer the morgue lighting?” His eyes shoot up to the bright white lights on your ceiling as he goes for his laptop now, presumably to connect it to your very obvious sound system.

You only take slight offense to his comment on your living room lighting, considering you have a control panel that can make them way less blinding, but– he’s right. And now you’re a little insecure that you prefer such a drab color in your home. You make your way to the wall, clicking the buttons on the panel just to prove you have warm lighting too, and that you can adjust the brightness.

“Ah, perfect.” Jake hums from across the room, eyes focused on his laptop screen before glancing to you and your extravagant light switch. “A little lower.” He guides you, knowing exactly which lighting accentuates his toned body the best when paired with his own little LED colored lights.

You turn the knob slightly, wondering just how good he must be at dancing in houses like this one.

“Little more.” He smiles

You dim the lighting more, looking at him and his relaxed posture.

“Right there.” He finishes in a more gentle tone, eyes focusing back on his laptop as he prepares not only the playlist but the mood lighting from his end too. Red. Lots of red.

And you just watch, his voice ringing in your ears as you try to pretend that your best friend wasn’t right. Even with just this casual set up…he’s…goddamn, he’s alluring. In that ratty old sweater, with his messy hair and pretty smile.

Stunning.

This motherfucker is stunning.

“Go and sit–” Jake says now, nodding to your couch as he places his laptop down, presumably done with the set up. “Just tell me where I can get myself ready and I’ll be back out shortly.”

You point towards the guest bathroom as you take your seat on the couch, unsure as to why your hands feel so clammy. And by the time he rounds the corner and you can hear the bathroom door shut, you attempt to make yourself comfortable.

And goddammit, no matter how many times you’ve napped here on this plush and soft surface, you can’t find the comfort here right now. The curiosity of why you’re okay with this burns in your gut despite knowing exactly why. Despite the fact that your best friend can always see straight through you and know exactly what you are.

At the end of the day though, why the curiosity exists isn’t what matters. It’s the curiosity itself. You want to know how much money Jake makes doing this, if he likes doing it, how he got started, what he does to advertise himself in a way to only find women like you, and many other things. Countless things. He’s hot as hell, actually, and how he’s come to do this kind of work is either one of two things. One being that he’s using what the Gods gave him to the fullest. Two, being that he had no other choice.

If he’s going to be paid to give you attention, the least you can hope is that he does it because he enjoys it, not because he has to do it. And if it does end up being because he has to do it, then perhaps his tip would be even larger than what you’d give for the ladder.

You’re uncomfortable.

The fact looming that you genuinely could go out and find a man at any given moment, yet here you are with a man forced upon you because you simply won’t do it. The implications of this man being here, why he’s here, how he ended up in this situation.

You’ve never been one to care, so why start now?

“You overthink too much.” Your best friend had said to you once, twice, hundreds of times during your friendship. Maybe she’s right, maybe you should just enjoy the show without feeling entitled to a slutty man’s life story.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Jake remains in the bathroom for a good thirty or so minutes, each of them passing like a nightmare in your head. Back and forth your brain goes, from not wanting to be in this situation to fighting yourself for being such a fucking bore. A very, very attractive man is primping himself for you to look at, he’s going to come out and do his best to turn you on, the least you can do is let yourself enjoy something for once. Enjoy him. Gawk and fawn over him. After all, at least you know there’s no promise to be had after he leaves.

No missed calls, no blocked numbers. This is business.

Fucking thankfully, the moment he comes out of your bathroom your mind has adjusted itself into the correct state of mind for this. A torturous adventure of thoughts, but you made it nonetheless. You actually can’t even look away from him now that he’s revealed himself, even when you tried. He isn’t dressed in anything that looks tacky or cheap. Hell, he doesn’t even look sexual. He just looks…

Expensive.

Jake genuinely looks like this is a place where he belongs. He smells like he belongs here, walks and murmurs like it too.

You feel yourself physically react to him in his blazer and dress pants. Business is what got you to where you are today, but never have you found the attire sexy in any way until now. The suit looks much like what your team would wear day to day in the office. Always all those shy men coming into your office, stuttering through their questions and need for approvals. Jake isn’t stuttering in his suit though, he’s standing confidently at his laptop as if he hasn’t even noticed you staring yet.

One look from him though is all he needed. Choosing this attire for someone like you is sure to mix both business and pleasure. It was a gamble of course, to bring your work home for you, but he does have the slight hope that you’ll never look at a man in a suit the same way again after this.

And goddamn the way his abs were glistening in the dim lighting before he had turned away from you. His blazer was partially open revealing nothing but skin when he walked into the room, and you honestly wonder if he even needed to do that. He could be fully clothed at this point and you think the room would still feel hotter than usual given your mind-state.

The way his belt held his pants on his hips was enough to have you thinking, looking as if it’s begging to be unbuckled just so the sound of it could fill your ears. The way the blazer widens his shoulders much more than the sweater from before. He looks bigger right now, both physically and in aura.

The scent of him wafted off of him in an even prettier way when paired with his image. He smells like a sweet type of musk, something you’d be interested in drinking alongside your dinner on special occasions. And under the assumption that the scent is why his abs are fucking glistening– fucking body oil. He uses body oil for this.

His hair rustles about when he turns to face you again, this time with the bass of whatever song he’s playing accentuating each step towards you. So…the talking is done then? Your cheeks heat up at how quickly he starts his session with you, even without a single roll of his body. Already, you could eat him alive, the smirk on his face leading your eyes straight to him.

Trailing down, down down. To his neck, that small glimpse of exposed chest, to the even more exposed lower abdomen section. His belt.

“Good?” He asks, leaning over you and placing his hands on either side of your head as he grips the couch.

You can’t look up at him, eyes training on his chest that you can now fully see through his single buttoned blazer. That same sweet musk assaulting your lungs.

Watching you from up here, Jake can tell you’re going to be fun to play with. A woman with such a harsh exterior now melting at the mere image of him when he’s got the right lights on him. To be fair, he really was warned and prepared by your friend, which didn’t seem the type to afford him on more than one occasion.

He thought it was nice that she paid for another session, shocking him to learn that it wasn’t for herself at all. What a wonderful friend, and what a bitch you’d be to have turned him away.

Finally, you nod to him, still eyeing his body in a shameful show of how much you genuinely did need this. What’s so bad about paying to look? Especially when the man is Jake, and he’s presenting himself like this.

“Rule number one.” Jake smiles, swaying in front of you as his grip tightens against the couch, wanting you to feel trapped and hopefully mesmerized by him, “I only accept bills of twenty, fifty, and one hundred. If you toss a fucking dollar, I’m leaving.”

That’s clearly not an issue you could fathom having, despite your internal protests. You only carry bigger bills anyway so you nod to him, quickly forgetting he even shared that ridiculous rule that would never apply to you by means of watching his hips swirl rather than sway. You see the heaviness in his pants, and you wonder if he gets himself hard for these little shows.

You fear looking up at his face now too, because you know he’s staring down at you, watching your every breath, every move.

“Rule number two,” He lends down now, lowering his voice and blowing against your ear in a short breath. “Don’t touch me without being invited, or without asking.”

Now, that’s a rule that applies to you only because you immediately want to defy it. There’s a knee jerk reaction almost that makes you want to reach out, to grip his flexing body and pull it closer. You wanted to feel how slick his skin is with that wonderfully scented oil. You wanted the scent on your fingers for later, you wanted to feel how warm he must be.

He doesn’t wait for your nod this time though, already noticing a familiar look on your face that he gets from most, if not all, of his clients. This is why he’s so in demand, after all. If he plays hard to get, sometimes he gets more out of his sessions. Sometimes he even gets a repeat client.

“And rule number three–” He continues, this time pulling back and positioning his face in front of yours. This rule appears to be an important one, the rule where you need to look at his face rather than his body. As if it needs to be heard. “I won’t touch you unless you ask– or beg.”

What you’re not realizing at this moment is that rule number three isn’t something he often speaks of. Sometimes, very rarely, Jake is in a mood when he goes out on a job. Condoms are always with him, just in case, but he never intends to use them or utter rule number three until meeting said client. They pay to look at him, not to touch him, however…if they pique his interest he surely offers the third rule.

And if a client never hears of it, they know that even if they ask to touch, he would never. Even if they want him to touch, he wouldn’t touch anywhere too pleasurable.

Meaning, you were right to assume what he was doing in your bathroom for so long. His hand felt better than usual against his length for the split second he had of tucking it into the most attractive position. He knew instantly that tonight was one of those nights, and you were to be a point of his own desire too. He played with himself for a bit, allowing himself to get half hard before coming out of the bathroom.

The way you looked at him finished the job, allowing his cock to grow to full attention at the mere sight of you fawning over him in silent discomfort. So– yeah, the third rule being for you was a given.

And when you swallow around a lump in your throat and look dead into his eyes, he thinks you know exactly what he means too. You’re lucky his cock is acting up, hell, he’s lucky it’s acting up. Look at you, fuck. Those tired eyes look ignited, and what luck the two of you have to have ever known your best friend.

“Deal?” He finally says, tilting his head cutely and waiting for you to nod. And you do nod, just as he suspected you would. Slowly, before glancing down at his body again.

He knows now that it’s time to start moving. Really moving.

“Is the song okay?” He asks, now pulling back and bracing himself against the back of your couch with all of his strength. “It was picked specifically for you.”

You’re not entirely what he means by that, but you assume your friend must have told him what she thinks you’d like.

“It’s fine.” You say, glancing away from his direct eye contact and suddenly feeling like a love-struck puppy in the way you feel so incredibly fucking shy because of him.

Jake notes that you didn’t ask what he meant by the song, but he doesn’t push. He’s better at talking with his body anyway. So, he begins to focus. Opting to start slowly and work his way up, specifically to work you up.

He steps back and away from the couch, centering himself in your living room as he closes his eyes and stretches his arms up to loosen his body a little more. Most of his clients love to see the way his muscles move as he stretches, and he suspects you’re of the same mind.

This entire playlist is chosen for clients like you. The ones he intends to let see all of him if they so wish to. The music is slow, the bass is strong, and each beat runs through the body in a way that makes him shiver. He can move as if he’s fucking you even from across the room without so much as a touch, and he knows you’ll realize it.

He’s at his best too, when this sort of thing happens to him. The eye contact is more intense, his hips are more pointed for a reason other than payment, and arguably he feels he’s most attractive like this too. Considering the countless times he’s been paid to dance and expose himself to women he’d never even look at twice, it always hits differently when a client is just his type.

And when he looks at you through the start of his dance, you appear to be painfully stiff against that soft couch. He smirks, a small chuckle rumbling from his chest. If only you knew how lucky you are, knowing his clients would be on their knees for a chance to experience him like this.

The fact that it’s your first time doing this…he’d be smart to not pull this shit on you. He’s never tried this with a new client, after all but–fuck, just look at you.

Jake’s hips move on their own for the most part, he doesn’t have to think much when he’s getting into it. He easily dances along to the music for you, as if it’s second nature to him despite not yet removing any clothing. It’s the build-up for him now, and he thinks it may be that for you too. Of course, if he leaves your house tonight with a large tip in his pocket and a hard, untouched cock, that’s fine too, though not preferable.

You watch him the same way he watches you, after all, the electricity for this to play out is there. It’s rare that he can feel goosebumps raise on his skin by a mere look from a woman that looks far too powerful despite sitting there helpless. He’s making you helpless, the dim lighting of this room accentuating his body is making you helpless.

And truly, you find yourself understanding with each shadow on his stomach as to why he’s so favored in the groups of lonely women. Arguably, you’re shocked your best friend decided to share him.

As the song begins to fade, Jake readjusts himself. He watches you during the brief silence, a sort of fondness in his eyes making you wonder if he’s looking at you or if he does this for everyone. It feels intimate with the way his eyes slowly scan your body in the quiet room. As if the silence doesn’t need to be filled with anything other than eye contact.

For him though, a woman has never met his eye between songs. Typically, their eyes are glued to his chest, cock, hands, and neck– never his eyes. They’re muttering, moaning, or shouting for him to hurry up, that the clock is ticking and they want to see more. But not you. Even as the next song plays, your eyes stay focused on his until he looks away and starts closing the distance. He skews his body now, allowing you to see him in profile.

In some ways, you have him feeling a bit flustered in the way you keep meeting his eye despite his body making a show for you. He’s never had to act with his face more than he has with you, even as he drops to his knees during a particular part in the song, thrusting his hips forward in an attempt to make you imagine yourself bent over on the floor in front of him.

He glances to his side, and still you’re searching his face.

He, now, looks back down for a moment, finding himself trying to guide yours somewhere else. He knows his job is to be looked at, to be seen, but this is far too seen for his liking. Thankfully, your eyes do follow his, and you gasp at the way he moves.

Your mouth falls open, gripping the hem of your dress as you imagine exactly what he intended.

The fact that this is your first time, Jake realizes this is new ground for him too. Typically, he speaks with his body and it appears now, he needs to portray some form of sexuality to you with his eyes. Like the roles are switched, he has to do to you what you’re supposed to be doing to him.

This is new, but warranted. Easy, even, for him to do it because he does want you.

You watch him intently, not fully realizing that you’re barely watching him fuck the air in front of him. Yeah, you see that too, but your eyes always go back to his and now, his own gaze is meeting yours. His gaze is searching your body, watching you move in reaction. From the way your fingers grip at the clothes he’d like to see on the floor later, to the way you slightly rub your legs together in a way that is almost too easy to miss. This alone is enough for him as his eyes burn their gaze into you. Much like you’re supposed to be doing to him.

He’s supposed to be able to look at you and know exactly what you’re thinking. So be it, the least he can do is let you know what he’s thinking.

Jake’s dance is more intentional now when he leans back on his arms, throwing his head back but keeping his head turned towards you. He tries to show you specifically what he would do to you. That bulge in his pants is large and blatant as he thrusts forward and back to the music. You glance to it, offering the same jittery reactions of arousal.

And this is when he allows his blazer to slide off of his shoulders, reaching to unbutton that single clasp for it to go sliding to the floor. He continues his movements through it, watching your eyes move to his arms and the strength used to hold himself up, his skin more and more visible to you. You do try to keep eye contact but…well, the way his abs flex when he presses forward, going concave with each inhale of those sensual lips that constantly smirk at you.

It’s a shame, really, to know that the bulge in his pants will remain there, unseen.

With his blazer now pooled at his wrists, he regains his focus. He wants you so badly by this point that it’s driving him crazy how hard he’s having to work for it. You’re supposed to be feeling this way, not him. Even if he can see that his routine is causing a reaction from you, he’s practically masturbating himself against the inseam of his pants just to get you to say something to him.

Meaning, he needs to work harder. The current song is soon to be replaced with another, his favorite to dance to, his favorite to fuck to. And to be fair, by the time this playlist gets to this song on this specific playlist, usually his clients are already shaking under him. Not you though, you’re holding yourself back and he can fucking see it.

He ignores the fact that it’s technically not time for him to move on to his next set of dancing, mostly because he almost never has to get to this part, he leaves his blazer on your floor as he positions himself back on his knees, turning towards you this time and looking you straight in the eyes. The fact that he’s hard and horny is enough to amplify the way he’s looking at you, confidence so high that he’s fine with being seen in any way you want.

He’s slow when he does it, crawling a few steps closer to you. You watch the way his shoulders move in the light, his eyes rounded and cheeky, his hair falling in front of them with a charming movement. It’s not intentional when you rub your legs together at the image yet again, very much wanting to spread them the closer he gets to you.

You can’t help but think he looks smaller on his hands and knees, eyes looking up at you as if he could eat you whole. You do wonder if your face reads the same for him, with the nervousness hitting you off and on.

“You’re hot when you look down at me like that.” Jake mutters out of nowhere under the veil of his music, stopping in place in front of you, planting himself right at your feet. “I’d like to touch you, is that okay?”

Nevermind the fact that Jake has never actually had to ask to touch a client before, he really can’t help it at this point. His cock is aching in his pants and he isn’t quite ready to wait an entire playlist worth of songs just to put his clothes back on and leave the door with pain between his legs. He very much wants to fuck something right now, preferably someone.

You.

On the other hand, he’s pleased to see how fucking fast you accept his request. Yes, he can touch you. Fuck, you want him to touch you.

And the whole idea that this is just him doing his job is so far in the back of your mind right now that you almost forget that he probably does this to most of the women he’s paid to entertain. Quite frankly, you don’t give a fuck. You can pretend that he only does this for you, you can live in a fantasy just for a night.

Jake lends you a smile as the current song finally fades out, the silence back except this time, you’re not looking into his eyes when you nod.

He’s slow when he places his hand on your knees, rubbing up, up, up until he’s able to lift himself and hover over you. He intentionally pushes your dress up your thighs, solely because he wanted to see you rub them together in full, shameless view for him. He wants to know what his body does for you. What it does to you.

And he stands, hovering over you for a moment with his hands glued to your thighs before he stares down at them. You just do as he expected, you rub your legs together, you look anywhere but at his eyes now, your hands grip the couch beneath you.

“I’m going to get on top of you,” Jake says now, dipping his head into your line of sight and forcing eye contact again, now gripping the back of the couch rather than your thighs, Just as he did when all of this started. “Would you like that?”

“Do you do this for all of your clients?” You suddenly ask with a smaller voice than you gave him upon opening your door. You breathe in sharply when he moves instead of answering your question immediately.

He spreads his legs, propping himself right on your lap, facing towards you, letting you feel the warmth of his chest radiating near your face.

“What kind of answer are you looking for?” He laughs fondly, grabbing your hands and placing them on his chest. “You should touch me, by the way.” He foregoes his own rule with that one, not wanting to wait any longer for you to maybe ask him yourself. “Just pull away if you don’t want to.” He adds, guiding your hands over his chest and down his abdomen.

“You didn’t answer my question–” You interrupt him, feeling the warmth pool and drip into your panties. “It’s a yes or no question.”

He chuckles sweetly, stopping your hands at his abs and holding them there.

“No,” he admits, moving his focus to the music now that he’s got your hands on him. “I don’t do this for all of my clients.”

Jake isn’t sure why he does it, but now he can’t bring himself to look at you. The eye contact feels more intimate than it should with you asking him such a question and demanding an answer. Even as he swirls his hips, feeling his clothed cock rub up and against you every few seconds, it feels almost too intimate.

“Oh, yeah?” You nervously chuckle back, feeling his muscles move beneath your hand as he thrusts his hips forward.

“You know,” He mutters, guiding your hands a bit lower despite his own confusion at how much he’s enjoying this moment with you. You feel the cold metal of his belt buckle against your palm and you think he’s going to stop there, like maybe this is just something he does to amp up the show or something, but no. He drags your hand down further until you feel the warmth of his cock under his pants..

Your pulse quickens as your ears start to ring. Your eyes avoid where your hand is right now, taking in a deep breath and looking up at him with question. He’s not looking back though, instead, his head is dropped and he’s staring at his pathetic bulge against your hand. He’s dancing into it, against it.

“I’ve never gotten this hard over a client that doesn’t want me.” He admits shamefully in a pathetic little laugh, bucking against your palm again to the beat of the song. “I can’t tell if I’m doing my job well enough.”

You feel shocked at that. A client that doesn’t want him? Is he fucking insane?! Then again, you need to be honest with yourself sometimes. You’ve tried to appear as uninterested as possible until he started crawling to you. There is clear attraction, obvious needs swirling in the air right now. You force yourself now to look at your hand with the hefty bulge rubbing desperately against it. The sheer size of him is something entirely different from what you were expecting out of him. This feels forbidden.

Wrong, even, But goddamn. The man is masquerading his dance solely so he can fuck against your right now. Maybe you should show some interest.

“You’re doing well, Jake,” You finally mutter to him, the first compliment you’ve given since he got here.

“Yeah?’ He sighs out, relieved as his hips press harder into your palm. Arguably, he’s not even dancing at this point, just trying to get off. “How well?”

Yeah, he’s a little desperate at this point for you to do something on your own. It’s so out of character for him to do all of this just to…well, get off.

“Show me,” He raises his brows, now removing his hands from yours and running them up his chest. His hips continue to move on you, and he watches you as you hold your hand in place. “Come on, the buckle is right there–” he nearly pleads. “You don’t have to be shy.”

Like a book, the two of you read the other at this moment. You’re not a woman of many words and he seems to understand that now, taking your single compliment and running with it. You do as he says, unbuckling his belt and now, sliding your hands up his body to meet his.

“There you go,” He stresses through another relieved sigh. Leaving your hands where they are against his chest and sliding the belt from his loops on his own. He tosses the belt behind him, relishing in that lost look in your eye.

You clearly have no fucking idea what you’re doing, but you seem to like it. And god, does he fucking love it. Especially when he motions his head back down, forcing your hands back to where they belong and helping you unbutton his pants.

“Take it out, go on.” He says in a rush, “I’m asking you to do it.”

To be fair, you’re going to do it despite the nervousness in your gut. It’s been so long since you’ve touched a man, and even longer since you wanted to. You could half argue that you feel like you’re about to lose your virginity right now despite all those hook-ups in college. Still, you don’t even nod at him when you do it. Carefully tugging his pants down and watching the weight of his cock do the rest of the work for you.

His legs spread wider as he points it up at you, a lewd scene, one that feels both disgustingly sexy and very, very, straight forward. You’ve never been like this with any other person. Or rather, no one has ever blatantly shown themselves like this to you.

And still, Jake just looks at you. So much eye contact becoming more and more comfortable as he learns what you seem to like. He can feel the air in your apartment against the head of his cock, the cool air rushing past his shaft and causing him to shiver with a very quiet moan. He still only looks at you during this moment, wondering why you’ve let your hands fall to his thighs. Then he sees a new look in your eyes.

Are you…waiting to be told what to do?

For some reason, he keeps forgetting that you’ve never had a stripper in your home before, let alone been seduced by one. Honestly though, he assumed you’d catch on by the point his cock was out. This isn’t for show anymore, he wants you.

“Touch me?” He asks gently, reaching back down to your hands and urging you to grab his cock. “You don’t even have to move, I can do the rest–” He chokes out a groan mid-sentence as he feels you grasp him in your fist.

Such a silent woman beneath him. He can only read you in specific moments, this one not at all being one of them. You’re hesitant but willing, perhaps? You leave him questioning himself and his own motives, still wondering if that compliment you gave him was genuine or just part of your own little show.

Yet still, you’re gripping him tightly and allow him to focus his hopes. Dancing beautifully into that little circle your hand creates for him. The best part is that when or if he ever actually dances to this song, it’s when he’s blatantly fucking someone. So the movements come naturally, just as they would if your legs were buckling and your pussy was spread open on him. So, basically, this dance is nothing short of fucking your fist, pretending to keep up an act that he so wishes you’d see through.

He keeps his face intense, moving his shoulders and arms as if it’s easy for him to turn the tables and position you to where your legs are on his shoulders and he’s rubbing his cock against your, hopefully, soaked panties.

It’s a struggle though, to not moan out in desperation when you tighten your grip on him. He watches your pupils blow out, and can see the way you’d now probably ask him to do just that. To put it on you, to shove it in you. And so, he slows his hips a bit and catches his breath, staring down at you in wait.

“You’re really expecting me to get off all on my own?” He finally says in an exasperated breath to your stillness and silence. He really is, trying to act as though he can’t see the look in your eyes and how it’s changed since he started dancing. “Baby, don’t you want it?” He adds, now waiting to see if you’ll move your hand away from him.

You don’t though, to his surprise, you actually start moving your hand on him. You’re jerking him off, staring up at him like you want it, squeezing the head of his cock before dragging those pretty fingers back down.

Instantly his eyes roll back. “Fuck, that’s good,” He compliments your hand, shaking a bit and shivering at the fact that you really just did that. “Can I stop pretending that I’m still dancing for you now?”

You find it in yourself to chuckle now, nodding with a confident sort of smile. It hit you fairly quickly, actually, as you watched him chase his pleasure all by himself. He’s so hard, and so incredibly thick in your hand, you’d be stupid to say it didn’t turn you on. It’s that fact that you’ve barely said anything to him and he’s begging you to look at him, to watch him, to touch him. All of your nervousness slowly disappeared because it was being replaced with power.

Now, that, you’re used to. You know what power feels like in all aspects of the working world, but never at home. Never when sex is involved. You’re always expected to play the part of a desperate woman in need of love, and that’s just not you. No, you’re a powerful woman with nerves that could kill you. And the way Jake parallels your working world, it’s almost too perfect. You’re used to men being beneath you, begging for your money, giving you all of their attention, apologizing for normal human errors.

Jake isn’t exactly begging you for money, but he’s still begging for your hands.

“No.” You finally say, relishing in the shock on Jake’s face. “Keep dancing, it’s what you’re being paid to do.”

His eyes fall a bit now as he nods his head. You almost feel his cock falter at the same time at your response, but you move your hand a bit faster. You grip a bit tighter, urging him to do whatever it is that’s on his mind. You want to see if he will actually do as he’s told now, considering you’re the one with the money to bring him back here.

It’s endearing how he does his best, and honestly, his best probably far surpasses some of the most notable dancers on the market if you had any idea of how they were. It’s just a bit hard to continue this act for him when you’re gripping his cock in such a beautiful way.

“You’re–” He pauses to hold in a moan, feeling the way you drag your hand in time with his dance. “You’re not going to ask me to touch you?” He finally adds, meeker than before, far less confidence.

In fact, he’s hiding his face.

You smile in response, looking up at him with dark and wide pupils as you swallow each movement his body makes for you. Your ears are still ringing, unable to comprehend the music blasting in your sound system. Your focus is solely on him, your hands are on him, your confidence is because of him.

The answer to that question should be a given, after all, shouldn’t he be well aware considering this little stunt he pulled that actions truly speak louder than words?

“No wonder she liked you so much.” You start, now loosening your grip on him just to see the way his hips frantically chase the warmth of your palm.

“Wait–” He asks slightly out of breath, cheeks flushed and bashful. “You really thought, I let her get me off like this?”

It almost pisses him off that you’d say that to him, then again, it’s not like you knew that this specific instance is rare and reserved for very few clients.

“You couldn’t even look at me properly thirty minutes ago, now you think you can make assumptions?” He argues, pushing away from you.

Your response is skewing an eyebrow at him, watching him fight for control as he pulls his hips back and shuffles off of you and onto his feet. You glance down at his cock and the way it stands painfully erect, twitching at the sudden lack of friction.

“Is it wrong to assume when you very clearly want me to make you cum?”

He stills himself, a blank expression turning to that of a devilish smile, eyes narrowing at you as he leans over you.

“Are you suggesting that you’ll get me off?”

You smile, spreading your legs a bit and feeling the stickiness drip through your panties now.

“She did tell me that some clients have gotten special treatment from you,” You mock him slightly, watching his eyes glue themselves to your thighs. You make a show to spread your legs a bit for him. “I also know that she was no such client.”

A small moment of silence as he devours you with his eyes, seemingly interested in the attitude you have towards him now.

“I also didn’t imagine your clients would be the ones getting you off.”

Honestly, it’s like he hit the fucking jackpot with you. Challenging him, mocking him with his cock out in front of you. If you so much as wiggled your cunt in front of him, he would instantly be back on his knees, letting you soak his face in whatever way you please.

“Normally they’d be jumping at the chance, you though–” Jake very nearly growls at you with a deepened voice. “You look like you’re the one who needs to get off, if anything to get that snarky grin off your face.”

“Go on then, dance.”

It’s almost like a game now, he feels. You know he’s trying to seduce you and it seems you’re enjoying the fact that you haven’t let him yet. He knows that you intend to let him, so yeah, fuck yeah, he’s going to play along.

He raises a brow at you as he steps back once more, trying to ignore the fact that his cock is aching to be touched again. You still want your show? Good. He’ll fucking give you a show.

Jake does as he’s told, finally kicking his pants off in full and keeping his eyes on you the entire time. He watches the way your legs spread when he rubs his hands down his naked chest, straight down to his cock where he only briefly tugs at himself. He can almost see under your dress as you continue to spread your legs more and more, but the lighting is far too dim to see what his act is doing to you just yet.

When he saunters behind you, dipping his head by your neck and whispering the dirtiest part of the song into your ear, he can see your sharp intake of air, and he watches the way your breasts move with each breath he forces out of you, and the way your nipples perk through the fabric.

So, he stays here behind you with his hips pressed to the back of your couch, ghosting his hands over your neck, moving down your arms, and then to your chest. He doesn’t touch, because you still haven't asked yet, but he knows hovering alone is enough. It’s like he can feel the electricity beneath his fingers somehow reaching your skin.

And he continues to sing against your ear, leaning further forward to plant his hands on your thighs again, mostly because he’s already been given permission to touch you there.

“More,” He gently demands between lyrics. “Spread them all the way.”

Jake watches for a moment from behind you, pressing his cock against the back of the couch the moment he sees your legs stretch open, your dress hiking up past your waist, enough now that he can at least see a glimpse of the skin closest to your pussy.

“Ask me to touch you.” He pleads against your ear, trailing his fingers up your thighs enough to where he would need you to tell him to stop otherwise. “Just tell me you want it.”

It’s silent save for the music playing, and his cock is aching so badly by this point that each time he rubs against the couch he’s almost breaking down to fucking beg you to let him touch you. That alone could make him cum, but god, you’re so good at playing hard to get even if it’s blatantly obvious that he’s already got you.

You’re fucking playing with him, and he can’t decide if he loves it or hates it.

Your silence is so damning to his dripping cock, and his skin feels so hot right now that he’s almost forgotten that he was paid to be doing anything that’s not this.

“No.” You playfully respond, dangling yourself just out of reach. You breathe in deep though, knowing you can’t keep denying him for much longer with the way his hands are rubbing at you. “I like it better when you’re the one asking for it.” You lean your head back and rest it against the cushions of the couch, and he instantly moves from your neck to look down at you.

Oh.

“Cute.” He says, having no issue at all to be the one to ask, beg, plead, or cry. Whatever it takes to get a feel of you at this point. It’s just…new to him.

Another long moment of eye contact has him trailing his hands higher than before, almost to the point that there’s no skin on your thighs to touch that doesn’t involve your panty line.

“May I?” He asks, leaning down a bit closer so that his face is mere inches from yours. “Will you take my fingers?”

You could mistake this distance as something that should not be crossed between the two of you. Barely hearing his question at this moment, the only thing you want to do is to kiss him, and it hit you so fucking fast that you almost forgot he’s doing anything you ask of him.

“Come again?” You smile, blinking up at him.

He breathes in, seemingly frustrated.

“My fingers. Take them.” He says rather than asking this time, already moving his hands to trace up your panties and feeling the wetness seep through onto his fingertips. “You’re already dripping–baby,” He stops to moan at it, amazed by how fucking soaked you are. “I can imagine they’d slide right in.”

Typically, you wouldn’t allow anyone to call you that. “Baby.” but coming from his mouth, it sounds fitting. It sounds seductive, sexy. It has your stomach in knots, actually, your hips bouncing up just slightly at his words with the pet name attached. Finally, you let him. Finally, you grind yourself against his fingers.

“I’ll make you feel so good–” He groans at your movements, loving how desperate you suddenly appear despite pretending you weren’t going to work for your own pleasure. He continues to trace his fingers up and down just to feel the mess of you, the one that he created, and the one that he intends to make messier.

“Moving your hips isn’t the answer though, baby.”

You swear he can read your mind, there’s no fucking way he would say it like that without knowing how you just internally admitted to liking it.

“Yes,” You let out shortly, darting your eyes away from him. “I’ll take them.”

That breathy laugh he releases sounds sweet, almost dripping like syrup when he lays his head beside your neck. His soft singing picks back up as he listens to you now more than the music, his fingers continuously ghosting where he promised to put them, not yet moving your panties.

Paired with it, his abdomen stays tense as he humps against your couch, his muscles locking up at the pleasure running through him in this position. Your hips lightly chase his fingers, up when his fingers move down, and he can’t help the shy smile that spreads across his lips. It’s one you don’t see, but the constant shift in your personality is something that keeps him on edge. Keeps him wanting more, to know more, to see and feel more of you.

And when he finally reaches around you with his other hand, pulling your panties to the side and exposing your pussy, he watches you take over for him and push them down instead, offering far more than he anticipated. He watches as you kick them off your ankles almost elegantly, as if you could do this job of dancing better than he can.

“Eager?” He teases, knowing you won’t respond to that. And you don’t. It pleases him to know that at least by now, he can kind of read you. Yet, still, there’s nothing more at this moment that would please him more than getting to see you in full. To wander back around this couch and get a real good, close up look at what he’s doing to you.

“You’re so wet right now.” He groans, knowing that you were soaked before and only hoping you’re dripping more and more for him now. His cock is weeping as much as he’d like for you to be, chasing any amount of friction he could have. And he can see his fingers slip and slide through your slick into places he wasn’t even attempting to touch just yet solely because of how wet you are.

“You held out for so long,” He coos now with a soft breath against your neck, feeling your cheek nuzzle against his flexing arm. “Look at that,” Two of his fingers tease at your hole before– “they slipped right in.”

Your breathing is labored by this point, feeling him play with you as if he has all the time in the world to fuck with your head. Which is…nice. No rushing despite the time limit on his session, proving time and time again that you’re getting more than others get from him. Lucky you, that you can moan out without shame for him.

And you do, grabbing his hand and practically fucking yourself with his fingers. That takes him by surprise as the warmth and sheer tightness envelopes his digits. You are excruciatingly sexy to him, he doesn’t even attempt to stop you.

In fact, he doesn’t even hold back now, meeting each chase of your hips with the force of his fingers plunging into you deeply, with full intention. He scissors them open, feeling your hole stretch around them beautifully enough to fit in a third. And god, you’re so fucking wet. He can hear the slapping of his soaked fingers inside of you pushing more and more of that arousal out.

He moans blatantly against your ear now, easing you into talking back to you.

“Bet you could take cock so well–” He murmurs, feeling you shiver against his grasp. “How long has it been? Hm?”

He’s talking to you, yes, but hyping himself up at the same time. The scent of your hair forcing a slight obsession with you in his mind. The way you feel, look, smell, move when you’re just inches from him like this. He knows you won’t respond to a goddamn thing he says too, but it doesn’t matter too much to him at this point. Because now, you’re whimpering.

Such a confident, well respected woman…fucking whimpering.

“What was that?” He asks playfully, running his other hand up your body until he gets to your neck. “Has it been that long?”

And for the first time, you were going to answer. For the first time, he doesn’t leave room for you to answer. Instead, you feel his palm resting flush against your neck, now pressing in and practically holding you down by the neck as he fucks his fingers into you faster.

Painfully faster.

“Cry for me again,” He encourages you, wincing as his own hips frantically chase the back of your couch. “You’re allowed, come on, do it again.”

And because he’s working for it, because he’s doing so fucking well, you let out another choked moan. His hand straining your neck so tightly that any sound coming out sounds strained and desperate, even the sound of yourself right now ignites a fire inside of you. You can feel that grasp tighten each time his fingers fuck into you with a painful jab, his palm placed so perfectly that you can feel your clit being rubbed each time he pulls his hand back.

It’s…overwhelming.

“Yes, fuck- again.” He groans, bucking his hips forward and frantically lifting his head from your shoulder, all so he can look down at you. He’s heard you, now he wants to fucking see how desperate you are when you cry out.

When you open your eyes again, wincing every few seconds at both the pleasure and pain of his desperate hands, all you can see is his face. All you can feel are those same long fingers threatening more and more cries from your chest. He’s hitting spots inside of you that haven't been touched in a long time. Feeling it now almost burns, even with the cold metal of that single ring on his finger against your neck.

And when he tightens that hand on your neck once more, not only do you cry out, but he matches you with his own stuttered gasp. You strain to keep your eyes on him through this moment, watching the way his teeth appear to scrape at his bottom lip when the sound of you envelopes his ears. So, you do it again, and again, and again.

His fingers only continue their aggressive assault inside of you, his palms still hitting your clit, and that other hand around your throat…honestly? You could fucking sing songs to him at this moment if he so wished it.

“You’re shaking.” He comments, eyes flicking to your body. “Can you even breathe right now?”

His smile looks so fucking mean, knowing full well that you can’t breathe and only tightening his hand harder against your throat. Nevermind the fact that you never discussed this type of thing with him, fucking wasn’t even in the agenda. But now? Fuck it. You do like it. Maybe you even love it. The way you’re moaning for him is all either of you need to know.

This time though, when you moan out and it’s sounding particularly raspy, he releases his hand from your throat and instantly leans down to your lips. He’s a bit shocked that you immediately strain your neck to kiss him. What he was going to do was degrade you. Now though, he’s just tasting the way you’re so desperate to kiss him. As if you’re wanting this to be real, to be intimate.

Arguably, your idea was better than his own because now he can’t bring himself to degrade you. In fact, he was stupid to even consider such a fucking thing. Despite never kissing his clients, things with you have already lasted far longer than he’d normally allow. Things have already surpassed the intimacy level he allows too, even with the very few lucky women who get to touch him. He’s never asked for it, and he’s never gotten this much of his own pleasure out of finger fucking them. Not once has he ever fucked himself against a couch to hold himself back for a woman either.

Maybe just this once, he can want it to be real too. Even if he leaves with a pocket full of cash, the fantasy right now is enough for him to accept it as is. If you want him to kiss you, he will fucking kiss you.

His pupils grow as his eyes close, slowing his fingers unintentionally as he focuses on your lips and tongue. Even his body against your couch relaxes and his hips slow to that of a sensual thrust forward, one that offers a long and painful drag against his already raw and reddened cock. You kiss him back better than he’s even been kissed before, and falling into it was terrifyingly easy.

His brain nearly short circuits at the softness of it, allowing his hands to move on their own accord, cupping your jaw with one hand and emptying your pussy to rub your clit with the other. He’s intentionally deepening the kiss far past his own comfort level.

But he is comfortable, and that’s precisely what’s uncomfortable about it.

“You can take it–” Jake mutters between kisses, more focused on your lips than the words he spilling to you. “You want more, right?” He continues, only now pulling back in a breath and waiting for you to adjust your eyes on his.

Immediately, when you open your eyes they widen at him. Goddamn, was he this sexy before? Did he even look this into you when he was on your lap fucking your fist? Out of all of his begging, this…this right here. Are you really about to fuck a stripper? The man you were so against meeting just this morning? The man who has $600 in his bank account from your lovely, fucking adored and beautiful best friend?

The man that you’re probably going to give the entirety of the contents in your purse to the moment he packs up and moves on as if this never happened?

Yes.

“I want more–” You say to him, blinking at his pretty eyes and intentionally rubbing your clit against his fingers, mostly because it appears as if he’s stopped functioning all together.

And before you can even blink, his fingers are pulled away and his presence is gone. You lift your head to watch him, cock still erect and heavy against his thigh as he goes directly to his bag. As if he knew it was going to happen, as if this was his plan before he even met you, he pulls out a condom and slips it on without so much as a sigh of relief.

After all, he does have to take precautions to be fucking an absolute stranger like this.

“Oh.” You huff in disappointment, not entirely meaning for him to hear it.

He raises his eyes to you as he pulls at the end of the condom, offering plenty of space for whatever release he intends to have soon, but his eyes don’t seem concerned nor bothered.

“What? You want it raw?” He asks playfully, wiggling his eyebrows briefly before making his way back to you. “That’ll require a bit more discussion, you know.”

Discussion that neither of you are willing to have solely because your pussy is throbbing and his cock appears to be more pathetic than it already was being strangled in that thin layer of latex. And without another word, allowing both of you to put that to rest for now, he’s right back over you, lifting your dress up and off of you.

“Fuck.” He breathes out as your tits falls from their perfect place within the dress. The sopping wet couch beneath you only soaking up more of your slick as his words force more out of you. God, you feel so wanted.

You keep your arms lifted to help him ease the dress entirely off of you, leaving you bare beneath him as he instantly goes to grab both tits, pressing them together before flicking both nipples with the tips of his fingers.

Your body jolts at the sensation, feeling it run through you and swell your clit more than it already was. The ache is worse, your hole is pulsing, yearning, wanting to be filled. Still though, he takes his precious expensive time, leaning down and sucking one erect nub into his mouth and flicking it all the same with his tongue.

“Right here?” He mouths from around your tit, eyes closed and tongue still focused elsewhere. “You want to be fucked here?” He mumbles again, realizing that his question will likely go unanswered. It’s very likely that he is going to fuck you right here, on your living room couch. Asking you such a thing was stupid, borderline cringe-worthy.

To his surprise though, you lend him a small “no.” as you lace your fingers in his hair, pushing his lips to your other nipple just to feel the warmth of his tongue.

“No?” He questions, blinking up at you from your chest before biting gently around the sensitive bud against his mouth. “Where then?”

To his dismay, your smile is still beautiful but the way you close your legs and sit yourself up from the slouched, relaxed position you were in disappoints him. Mostly because he’s now forced to stand up too, and even more so because he has to keep his head dipped in order to keep his mouth on that perfect nipple of yours.

His disappointment fades as you hold his head there, feeling your legs almost buckle against him when he moans around it, sending vibrations through your chest. You remain gentle though, wobbling on your legs and shuffling forward, allowing him to continue his antics. Slowly but surely, you turn him around and back him up against the couch.

Only now, when you push him back and his teeth graze your sensitive nub do you realize that he’s so, so much needier than you expected. Even with his begging, his little disappointed sound didn’t go unnoticed. His brows are still furrowed now, not even paying attention to the fact that you’ve just shoved him down so that you can be the one straddling him. It’s cute, actually. Noticing how he was so intimidating when he came into your house, walking with confidence, dancing with intention, finger fucking you and choking you as if he had a right to do it…only to now look at him and the way he’s melting.

The way he’s needy, borderline puppy-like to be near you.

His eyebrows shoot up from that little face of disappointment though, when you pull yourself from his mouth and instead plant yourself right on his lap, letting your pussy lips envelope the underside of his cock as you grind up immediately.

It’s the first slippery touch his cock has felt all night and honestly? He’s been on edge this entire time. You grind so fucking beautifully, and it’s a first for him to realize that he’s entirely speechless.

You’ve rendered him incapable of speaking.

“You’re cute, I don’t think you realize that.” You comment, gliding against his cock and watching his hands reach out to grip your waist, “Really cute.”

He doesn’t falter at your compliments, instead he just melts into it even more. His cheeks are permanently blushed as he leans forward to try and get your tits in his face again, and all you can do is grip his hair and let him. It’s been a long time since you’ve felt the head of a cock bumping your clit, and you’d never forgive yourself for not letting yourself have this kind of fun more often.

And Jake just gets whinier. His cock pulses and twitches to be inside of you all the while despite the discomfort of that latex layer likely needing to be replaced already. Still, his hands keep moving your waist, pushing and pulling you faster against him until– ah.

You angle yourself perfectly when he slides your upwards again. All you had to do was perk your ass out and wait for him to push you back down. Finally, he slides in without fully realizing that’s what was going to happen, and goddamn the sound he makes, fuck.

“Mmfuck,” He winces, digging his nails into your hips at the speed of which he bottomed out. The breath is knocked out of him and all you can do is stare down. Look at him now, so docile and sweet like he wasn’t fucking your livingroom floor prior to this.

And the grip of you on him, so strong. The slide was so easy, so fast, that he genuinely is seeing stars at how good you feel wrapped around him. The velvet walls inside of you pulsing, pushing and squeezing his cock all over. He can’t help the sounds he makes, grunting and feeling that grip you have in his hair intensify his pleasure.

Both of you now let out a long winded breathy groan at the sensation of your body adjusting to his, in all fairness, you had to grip onto something and his hair just so happened to be the best thing at the moment. He seems to love it though, so when you finally regain your senses of being absolutely fucking full, you pull at it again, tilting his head back so that you can see the expanse of his neck and the way it moves when he swallows.

“Bounce.” He croaks out at you, eyes glistening with pure fucking hope that you will.

And, well…when you feel his length pulse in place inside of you, you do exactly as he asked. You bounce, taking his full, thick cock each and every time. Not allowing a single inch of it to be neglected. All he can do in response is squint, trying to keep his eyes open through each breathy groan of praise and encouragement. He does lose himself entirely to the feeling of euphoria and the pain of how harshly you keep his head tilted back.

He really didn’t think you could get any sexier, honestly, and as far as he’s concerned…if he moves right now he’s going to cum. So, he doesn’t. Instead, he just lazily smiles at you and lets his eyes finally close so that he can fall right back into the state of seeing nothing but stars.

Frustrated, yet incredibly turned on by the way you’ve just completely lost him, you bounce harder, then you sit flush against him, twisting and swirling your hips. Grinding forward back, counting how he moans each time you do something that feels particularly sensitive for him. And you hang onto that, repeating those actions, lifting your ass and sliding back down. Again and again, until your legs shake and your fingers threaten to pull his hair too hard.

“Look at you now,” You half-chuckle out of breath, hearing the wet slaps of skin on skin paired with his blatant and sensual moans drowning out the playlist that has been long forgotten. “You can’t even move.”

All he does is nod his head, that same lazy and cocky smile appears as if to insinuate that you’re damn fucking right he can’t. Like he’s proud of it. And you’re not going to ignore the fact that his hands are still on your waist either, gripping onto you so tightly that you fear he could draw blood if you move the wrong way.

“Keep going, baby–” He somehow manages to say to you. “Don’t stop.”

There it is. This entire time he’s been begging to fuck you, and now he’s finally begging you to fuck him. His voice still sounds like honey, with that impressively hard cock inside of you pulsing so constantly that you could probably feel him in your stomach if you were to press against it.

“Mhm,” You answer him, promising that you won’t stop through just a half-moan and a long winded intake of air. Honestly? At this very moment, you feel like you’re sitting on a throne. Jake, obviously, being said throne but whatever. The fucking power he’s making you feel is nothing short of alluring.

And now, as that power goes to your head, you opt to grind rather than bounce for him now. Your hips aren’t as erratic, yet still he tenses up for you, forcing his cock to somehow feel even harder as you fuck it into yourself through lazy drags of your clit against his pelvis.

If you keep going like this, you could cum in an instant. But before you can even finish that thought, you look down at him on instinct due to his sudden silence.

His eyes are squeezed shut tightly, and his mouth is open in a silent moan. You can see that he’s not breathing, seemingly holding his breath even after you release his hair. His head lolls back with that same expression, and that’s when you feel his fingernails dig.

“Oh,” You moan, now resuming your grinding much harder now, making a point to bump your clit repeatedly against him. “Fuck, are you cumming right now?”

Still he doesn’t respond, you can only feel his hips stutter under you despite trying to remain entirely still and stiff for you. You know that now is when you need to be chasing, because you’ll be damned if you’re not going to cum with him inside of you.

You want to be full like this, you want to squeeze him, to play with his sensitive cock even if it starts to soften. He’s too pretty, too fucking pretty when he whimpers. And so, you continue grinding, up until you’re on the brink of your orgasm but not quite there yet. To the point his cock is only half in you with the way you’re angling your clit against him, chasing your own high so aggressively that you barely feel his fingers tightening on you again.

Jake shoots his head back up, eyes opening as the sensitivity hits him quicker than he would have liked, but you don’t relent. The pain is intense from how hard you’re riding him, but he can see how close you are, the image alone compliments that sensitivity he’s feeling right now.

He seethes out painful praises to you as your desperate cunt finally reaches orgasm, squeezing against his softening length so tightly that he can’t help but whimper with you. Still, he studies your face through his own winces, shuddering at the way you close your legs around him despite them being forced to stay open in this position. You try to curl into the pleasure, as if you wish you could disappear completely alongside it.

And god, the way you grip at his arms for leverage as you shake through it. Dare he say…he’s fond of you. It still hurts, but it kind of hurts more when he knows it’s over. Mostly because it feels like he’s been in this room with you for days, knowing that’s not true. Surely he’s stayed longer than your allotted time with him, but you seemed to have given him something worth staying for at least.

When you slump over him, he almost wants to cry from how fucking sensitive he is right now. Thankfully, you seem sensitive too as you wince before he does, remaining as gentle as you can when you reach down to the base of his cock and hold the condom, allowing him to slide out of you at his own pace.

And then, the playlist comes to an abrupt end at just the wrong moment, because it forces Jake to realize that he hadn’t stayed at all over his paid time frame. Now, all he can hear is the way his breath is entirely too uneven compared to any of his sessions with prior clients like this. He’s breathing much too fondly for you, or rather, not breathing well because of you. He can’t just…go home can he?

“You okay?” You ask to the slight panicked look on his face, seeing how he stares straight up at the ceiling, not blinking, no readable expression. “Jake?”

He shakes himself out of it, eyes slowly moving and blinking to look at you.

“That–” He tries to talk, genuinely, he does. “Um…”

The change in atmosphere almost freaks you out. Isn’t this what he wanted? You saw the way he lost himself there briefly though, you can admit. None of this was even that rough or kinky, so you’re a bit confused as to why he’s acting like this.

Maybe you even feel a bit guilty. Like you’re the problem. So, you silence yourself and lift onto weak legs to stumble and find your dress. You throw it on quickly, hiding your shame that he so wanted to see just fifteen minutes ago. Then, you head for your purse and grab every single bill you have folded neatly inside.

Just like that, you place the money in his shaking hand and can’t bare to look at him.

“Wha-” He starts, licking his dried lips and sitting up a bit too quickly. “Why are you giving me so much?”

“It’s your tip.” You try to say casually as you clear your throat. “You can shower too, if you’d like.”

Jake holds his breath, hoping you don’t genuinely think he did all of that for the money. He was already paid to be here, the whole…you know, fucking thing, was his doing. What happened was because he wanted it, and…he still does. Are you truly just strictly back to business like this? You literally just handed him his rent for the month and then some, it kind of amazes him. The audacity. As if he’s never been handed handsome sums of cash from drunken lonely women. You aren’t a woman who needs him, and yet you pay like you did.

“Shower with me?” He forces himself to ask, because he knows he’ll regret it if he doesn’t. After all, this tip feels like a rejection of what just happened. Hush money, even.

He doesn’t know what just crept into this room through the fucking silence, but he doesn’t like it. And it seems you don’t either, because you instantly comfort him with a smile and a step forward.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

He didn’t intend to spend the night, free of charge no less, but he did. All of that including some embarrassing talk involving the seriousness of how this is not normal for him.

Surprisingly, you believe him.

After the shower, the mood had shifted into something that felt natural and less rehearsed. He wasn’t just some stripper you could call over with a downpayment of $600, he was Jake, a man trying to make ends meet in a city far too expensive even for you if you’re being honest.

Jake, a man wanted by several women. You, on the other hand, feel the need to mend your lonely and stone-cold heart with him, however much that may cost. Not to fall in love, or to fill any type of voice. If anything, you want to be taken care of in specific ways, and you’d like to take care of him in turn.

So, when he grimaced at your joke, saying that he would practically be your sugar baby and that you’d run off all of his other business out of need to continuously be fucked by him and him alone, you almost stopped pressing the matter.

Because you would run off all his clients solely for keeping him too busy with you to go to them. You would be paying him every time, making damn sure he’s well taken care of and financially stable.

Jake did notice how you looked disappointed, quickly backtracking his grimace.

“Wait, you’re serious?”

You nod shyly, blinking at him.

“It’s not like we have to sleep together every time, you won’t even have to dance for me anymore.” You argue, knowing that’s at least a half-lie. “All I ask is that you don’t fuck your other clients if you’re still seeing me, and intending to..you know–”

Jake nods happily, without question even.

“So, what happens if I’m horny and you’re not available then?”

You narrow your eyes at him.

“Jerk off like a normal person?”

Fair enough.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

man, i forgot how lame this fic is but yknow what? good for me. jake is so fuckin’ fine fr I DON’T EVEN CAREEEEEEEEEEE. pls reblog and leave feedback on my work :D

#enhypen smut #sim jaeyun smut #jake smut #jake sim smut #jake x reader #enhypen x reader #enhypen hard hours

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cosmicwavelengths · 2 months ago

Text

staring problem

pairing: avenger! bucky barnes x physical therapist! reader summary: you’ve been working with sam, joaquin, and bucky for the past few months, and you couldn’t help but notice how bucky just… stares. (based off of dialogue from the falcon and the winter soldier: “does he always just stare like that?” “you get used to it.” and “you’re doing the staring thing again.” + more)

a/n: hello and welcome to my first one shot! i saw captain america: brave new world last week and it was tremendous! i went back and watched the falcon and the winter soldier and it inspired me to write this fic. i've been pretty excited to share this, so i hope you enjoy! likes and reblogs are always appreciated forehead kiss

comments/tags: ca:bnw (spoilers!), fluff, bucky barnes is a 106 year old grumpy ass, bucky has a staring problem (quite severely), physical therapist/trainer f! reader, sam wilson, joaquin torres, bucky doesn’t hate joaquin here but he has a youthful energy that old man barnes finds mildly exhausting (sometimes), there’s technically a girthy age gap between bucky and reader (probably 60-80 years) but bucky can’t help that so we will collectively ignore it, strangers-to-lovers except bucky is just Confused, no y/n use

cw: mentions of alcohol (drinking, reader getting drunk), sebastian stan’s intense glare (swoon), kissing, language (bucky has a potty mouth)

wc: 3.9k | masterlist | ao3 ────୨ৎ────

In his 106 or so years, you were the first person who Bucky Barnes met that genuinely perplexed him. And he couldn’t exactly put his finger on why.

During his over-extended life, he prided himself on his ability to read people and understand their intentions almost immediately. Maybe he’s a cynic, but he finds it to be much easier to organize the recurring figures of his life into different areas of his mind. Of course, there’s the rare individual that Bucky genuinely likes, such as Sam. And with others he tolerates, like Joaquín. But you? He wasn’t exactly sure how he felt. And if Bucky was being honest with himself, it scares him.

Considering he already knows almost everything about you, it’s almost frustrating how little Bucky truly knows you. Sure, Joaquín sat you all down as a group to discuss their new physical therapist. Similar to Joaquín in age, graduated from college not too long ago,, has significant experience with working with service men. You’ve been working with them for nearly six months already, and Bucky has yet to properly assess where you sit in his brain.

Whenever you entered the room -- any room, you had a certain energy. Maybe it’s the way you carry yourself, but you seem to have this natural ability to alter the space around you in some way. Your teeth and eyes seemed to sparkle, the way they open up so wide to greet him and the others at the beginning of each training session.

“Does he always just stare like that?” you inquire quietly, leaning over to Sam as you create a hamstring out of a roll of kinesiology tape. You subtly nudge your arm in the general direction where Bucky stood next to the weight rack.

Sam chuckles, “You get used to it.” You shrug in response, putting your head down and continuing to wrap the tape around his calf. “He might be a bionic staring machine, but he’s been through a lot. It’s just how he is, I wouldn’t take it personally,” he smiles down at you. Making a quick glance in his direction, Bucky continues to stare pointedly, brows furrowed and jaw clenched. Intimidating. You suppose any regular person would be skeeved out under such intense pressure, but it makes you rather demure. Even though you’re looking in his direction, he continues to look at you with his intense eyes. You’d think that most people would stop after being noticed, especially since you’ve caught him staring at you more than twice, but he continues with his piercing gaze anyways.

Since Sam had decided to rebuild the Avengers, you had been brought in as their physical therapist. If you were honest, you weren’t exactly sure why superheroes of all people needed physical therapy, with what cutting edge technology and medicine they have at their disposal, but it pays well and you can’t complain about that in this economy.. Since starting, you’ve already become relatively close with Sam and Joaquín. But Bucky…

…Well, judging by the way he’s practically staring through you, you’d be safe in assuming that he hates you or something. You’ve not really had a chance to have a full fledged conversation with him. You helped him stretch, applied kinesio tape when asked. Within your first few days here, you surmised that he was just a private person. But, you’ve seen the quick smiles he flashed at Sam and the occasional short conversation with Joaquín. You normally don’t take these things too personally, but the people pleaser side of you tends to rear its ugly head. Aside from that, there was something about Bucky that made you want him to like you at least a little bit. You’ve tried your best to be friendly to him during your brief interactions, but he didn’t seem to have much of an interest in conversing with you past exchanging pleasantries. Even though it hurts a little, it’s just how some of these jobs go, after all, you can’t expect to be friends with all your clients. But his nearly constant staring at you is… menacing.

“I just don’t think he’s taken to me that well,” you breathe, finishing the wrap on his quad and cutting away the excess tape with scissors. “He doesn’t seem to like talking to me… or like me, at all.”

“It’s not you,” Sam reassures gently. “Give him some time to open up.”

“Y’know, you probably scare her with how much you stare at her like that.”

Bucky re-racked the weights with much more force than he wanted, causing the weights to make a heavy clunk sound against the metal, making her and Sam’s heads snap over in their direction. Shit.

Bucky looks at Joaquín and frowns. “Don’t sneak up on me like that. And I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Dude, you have something of a staring problem,” says Joaquín. “Do you know that? It’s important to us that you know that. You have zero tact.”

Bucky grumbles under his breath in response, turning back to the weight rack to select a heavier dumbbell. “At least say something to her when we go out later? You can tell it bothers her,” Joaquín offers with a smile. Bucky steps back from the rack, preparing for his next set. “Stay out of my business, Torres.”

“This seems like a very unnatural problem for someone like you to have. Maybe we should call Wakanda, tell them that our cyborg puppet has stopped working and is in urgent need of recalibration.”

“Fuck off.”

The bar is loud. Far too loud for Bucky’s taste as he enters the establishment with Sam. Had it been up to him, he would have picked his usual quiet spot near his apartment. But, it is her six month anniversary of working with the guys, and Bucky wasn’t going to miss a chance to drink for free on Sam’s tab. Bucky stuffs his hands deeper into the pockets of his leather jacket, scanning the many faces around the room. Keep an eye out for any potential threats…

“Well?” Sam asks, turning to Bucky and breaking him out of his concentration. Bucky’s jaw tightens, “Don’t you and Torres know better than to be in my business?” he says, crabbily. Sam shrugs his shoulders, hands out in defense. “Hey! I just want you to be happy, man. Just think about what Torres said, maybe?” He steps back from Bucky with a smile, clapping his hand against Bucky’s shoulder before approaching Joaquín at the bar. And there you are, sitting next to Joaquín, shining like the stars and moon… yet unsteady. Your warm expression grows upon seeing Sam, pulling him into a tight hug. What the hell, sure, Bucky ponders briefly before stalking up to the only open space in the bar and ordering a beer.

“Sam!” you answer excitedly, throwing your arms around him in a warm hug. He reciprocates in kind, saying a quick greeting during the embrace. “Wo-oah there!” Sam teases, “Has Joaquín here been filling you up with drinks here?” He gestures to the glassware that you and Joaquín collected, lightly crowding the bar surface.

“Hey, look, it’s a cheat night for all of us, and more importantly, her six month work anniversary!” Joaquín reminds Sam with a laugh. “Yes, tonight is all about me, guys,” you tease, smiling lazily at them. You generally don’t make it a habit to engage with clients outside of the gym, but Sam and Joaquín had truly welcomed you to the team with open arms these last few months. It was truly kind of Sam to pick up the tab tonight, and you’d feel rude refusing.

You settle back into your barstool as Sam and Joaquín begin a conversation. You scan the many faces around the U-shaped bar until you notice Bucky standing there, waiting on his drink. He’s of average height, about six feet tall or so, yet he stands out among the others around him. He wears his infamous scowl as he toys with his leather gloves. You took care in noticing how the light of the bar catches his upper cheek bone and the top of his jawline by his ear. His brooding blue eyes as they scan the area round him. So intimidating… yet..

He glances up at you quickly, incidentally locking eyes with you across the bar. Your eyes grow wide, feeling smaller than you’ve ever felt before. It’s almost eerie the way he studies you, as if he is trying to memorize every atom and particle of your facial structure. You almost freeze under his watch, sobering up a little as you sit up straighter. Properly. You cast out your usual friendly gestures, an invitation -- a small smile and a shy wave of your finger tips. Maybe it’s your alcohol-muddled brain playing tricks on you, but you could’ve sworn that the corner of his lips turned ever so slightly upwards.

It felt like time stopped when Bucky noticed you. The small wisps of your hair caught by the lowlights above the bar, reaching to the bow of the lips that once held a grin. Your wide eyes holding a sparkle of light. How he can see the way your skin flushes due to your alcohol consumption. Bucky finds it adorable the way you lightly smile at him, waving your hand gently. He sees the way you’re a bit wobbly, having to lean against the bar to keep things steady. He couldn’t help but be amused. His attention is torn away by the bartender setting down the beer bottle in front of him. Bucky fishes for cash in his pocket, setting it in the man’s hand and finally approaching the group.

He stuffs his beer-less hand deep into his jacket pocket as he stops next to Sam. He claps his hand on Bucky’s shoulder in greeting, Bucky acknowledges him with a slight nod of his head. “Bucky!” Sam exclaims, gesturing to the group. “Welcome. We were wondering when you’d show up!” Bucky looks at him with a tired expression. “Lost track of time at the gym,” he mumbles. “Likely story,” Joaquín laughs, before being cut short by Bucky nudging him sharply with his flesh elbow, using a bit more force than necessary.

Minutes pass. Then an hour. Two hours. Rounds of drinks later, you all lapse into steady conversation telling lively stories of the past, previous jobs, missions, interactions with other superheroes. You and Joaquín chortle together loudly at Sam’s seemingly endless stream of stories and jokes, while Bucky resigns himself to polite nods as he sips on his beer. The initial lively crowd of the bar had died down to the regular crowd, who’d delegated themselves to chatting amongst themselves, playing darts and shooting pool.

Several vodka cranberries in, your face and hands feel oddly numb, and the room spins more than usual. Shame on you for thinking you can match Joaquín drink for drink. Sam and Joaquín throw back the last of their drinks before heading off to the pool tables. Bucky stares off at them as they apply blue chalk to the tips of their cue sticks, ready to begin a match.

Turning towards Bucky, you prop yourself up against the bar, cheek in hand. You attempt to mock the way he stares at you, to make him feel how you’ve felt all these months.

“So,” you hiccup, interrupting yourself with a shy giggle. “What’s your deal?” You mockingly raise an eyebrow. “What’s your damage, Bucky? What is it about me you don’t like?” It slips out so easily. You should be embarrassed, but you’re far too gone.

Bucky sits up straight, giving you an unsure glance. That’s new. “I’m not sure what you--.”

“And you’re doing that staring thing again, that thing you do with me,” you comment, words slurring slightly as you gesturing unsteadily in Sam and Joaquín’s direction. “When you look at me like that, I can’t tell if ‘ya like or hate me!”

“Y’know, maybe I’m a people pleaser or sumthin’, but I-I really want you to like me, I think,” you sigh. Shrugging comically, you throw back the rest of your drink sitting on the bar. Leaning over, you clap your hand over his large gloved one. Bucky freezes, suddenly being hyper aware of what you’re doing and how small your hand feels compared to his. “And y’know what else? I don’t even mind when you stare at me like that. It’s almost as hot as it is intimidating.”

Bucky was warm -- not from the alcohol. He knows he can’t really get drunk anymore due to the serum, but he still feels the sweat from his palms against the smooth leather interior of his padded globes. And again, he states. Wide eyed at the flushness that cascaded down her cheeks to her collar bones. She fully lost herself in a fit of uncontrollable giggles, leaning against the bar again, not even knowing what you’re doing to him.

He wants to look everywhere all at once, eyes darting. Your bright, round lips stained with cranberry juice and the remnants of your lip gloss. The small beads of sweat by your temples and the crown of your hair. Your smooth thighs, sparkling in certain spots from the cold of your glass. Bucky was truly rendered speechless. Not that he usually speaks much. Not that he was able to get much of a word in with you beforehand. But this time, he feels truly stumped. So, naturally, he did what any former brainwashed assassin turned semi-normal guy would do. With every ounce of charisma and bravado that a man like him could gather, he took one last look at her and drank the last bit of his beer. “Excuse me,” he said with a voice he was unfamiliar with, and turned around to walk out of the bar. And kept walking. All the way home.

Sleep is elusive to Bucky, who had spent the previous night drifting in and out of light sleep. He usually takes this as a sign to get an early start of the day, maybe go for a long run or walk outside.

He rises, making his way to the bathroom.. Squeezing out toothpaste, Bucky couldn’t help but reflect upon the event of the previous night. The sound of your gleeful, drunken laugh. How the warmth radiated off of your body. He can just barely recall the ghostly weight of your hand on the back of his. Even through his thick gloves, you may as well have burned him.

As Bucky splashes water on his face, he concludes that maybe a run wasn’t what he needed. The subway station was right outside of the bar on East Houston Street, yet he elected to walk two hours back home to his apartment in Brooklyn instead. He’d hoped that walking over the Manhattan Bridge in the middle of the night would turn out to be somewhat therapeutic, yet he was still unable to shake the memory of you at the bar.

Letting out a deep breath, he takes a moment to sit on the couch and put his boots on. Standing, he shrugs on his leather jacket and reaches for the gloves in his pocket. Gloves you touched, he recalls, feeling uncharacteristically giddy about it. Heading out the door, he hopes that this early morning workout will help him clear his head.

It is far too early to wake up today, especially after having a night out like that. You awake with a raging headache, an unsettled stomach, and an aggressive thought of what the fuck did you do. As you lie there, gazing at your slowly spinning ceiling fan, you start to feel each and every one of the drinks. Groaning, you sit up, clutching your stomach in an attempt to settle yourself and you are quickly reminded of the conversation you had with Bucky. At that, you shoot up far quicker than you should, running to the toilet to rid yourself of the contents of your stomach and regrets from last night. Sigh.

You couldn’t believe that you had said that, feeling waves of embarrassment. You normally wouldn’t push yourself that far with the drinks, much less with the boundaries of a client. Grimacing, you reach up to the counter, feeling for a towel to wipe your face of sweat and residual make-up. Turning on the faucet, you cup water into your hands to drink and splash your face with cold water. Approaching your closet, you preemptively mourn one of the best jobs you’ve ever had. Every fiber of your being begs you to return to bed and wallow in self pity, but you think it’s best that you get to the gym early for a quick workout. Sweat out the hangover, you think bitterly. Your head lightly pounds when you make a sudden movement. Bringing your hand to your forehead, you realize this is going to be one long day.

Entering the compound, you hear the sound of a treadmill running and rhythmic steps in accompaniment. It would be good to see Sam or Joaquín, figuring that one of them decided to work off the alcohol consumed last night. But since you are, evidently, not God’s favorite, running on the treadmill is someone you’d rather avoid right now. And there’s Bucky Barnes, shirtless and sweating as he jogs on the machine. Your eyes follow his dog tags dangling from his neck, bouncing rhythmically against his skin. He heaves gently, hair flopping with each step.

Even though you stopped in your tracks, he had already felt your presence and began slowing down. Bucky steps off the treadmill, collecting his water and patting his forehead with a small towel he brought. You figure it’s best to just talk and not dance around the topic. He didn’t seem like the type to beat around the bush. You breathe shakily before approaching him.

“Hi, Bucky,” you say, tone laced with nerves.. “Look, about last night—”

“Hey, it’s fine.” he interjects accidentally, cutting you off. He raises a gentle hand of reassurance. “You don’t need to apologize for anything.”

Your shoulders relax a bit, knowing that there was maybe a small chance that he wouldn’t tell Sam or Joaquín about your interaction. “Thank you, it’s just that I rarely go out with clients like that, nor do I drink that heavily.” You shift lightly on your feet, fumbling with your water bottle. “I didn’t mean to be unprofessional or cross any boundaries. I just hope that we could maybe move past this, pretend like it didn’t happen?” Smiling, you look up at the taller man, eyes filled with hope. He himself shifts on his feet, “Oh, I didn’t realize we were just clients to you.” You look down with embarrassment, searching for a response. “Uh, I didn’t mean any offense—”

“I’m just teasin’, sweetheart,” the nickname rolling smoothly off his tongue with a smile. A smile. “Did you really mean what you said, though? About me staring?” Drunk words are sober thoughts, he recalls to himself, having learned the phrase from Torres. You flush, suddenly taking interest in the top of your water bottle rather than the man in front of you. Him speaking with you, much less jokingly is more than foreign territory for you. “I-I mean,” you sputter out, self consciousness taking charge. “I wouldn’t mind being friends with you, of course, I try my best to be friendly with the people I work with.” He takes a step closer. “Now, you and I both know that that’s not the part we are talking about.” Your breath hitches. You take in how you feel crowded by him. He’s not exactly within your personal space. Yet.

“Really, I’m the one that should be apologizing.” Bucky says, loosening up. With a sigh, he starts: “I’m sorry to have kept you at arms length all this time. It’s rather difficult for ‘someone like me,’” he dramatically emphasizes with air quotes, “to ‘nurture friendships.’” So says my therapist, he thinks with an internal eye roll. “What’s wrong with me isn’t your fault. I’m just old and cynical.” He pats the outside of your arm in reassurance. You smile, feeling the spot grow warm under his touch. “For the record, I don’t exactly mind that you called me hot, either,” he casually notes. “It’s certainly better than the other reactions I tend to get.” You didn’t think it was possible to blush harder, feeling the warmth creep down your chest. Fuck, you were hoping he wouldn’t mention that part specifically, but you can roll with it. “Well, I do pride myself on being honest, I guess,” you chuckle nervously trying to play it off as cool.

“Y’know, since I had met you, I had been so confused on what to think of you. In all my life, I had never met anyone that was able to do that to me.” His voice darkens. “Care to clue me in as to why?” You feel stuck again, just how you felt last night when he was staring you down at the bar. You attempt to nervously mutter out a response, which instead leaves your mouth gaping open. He closes in on your space, you can feel his body heat radiating off of him. He glances down at your curved lips, light pink and glistening, then back into your doe eyes. “Please, sweetheart, it drives me crazy when you look at me like that,” he uses the nickname again, making your mind spin and your knees a bit weak. “You have no idea what you do to me, do you?”

His eyes drop to your lips again as you stand there, stupefied. His eyes drift downwards to your lips and you almost feel like crumbling under the sudden pressure. He closes in again, sneaking his hands around your waist to pull you in closer. You’re both suspended in silence for a beat, and you think your heart would stop until he continues. “I don’t mean to make things weird, but maybe I like the way you fluster when I look at you. I’ve been alive for a long, long time, and you’re the first person I’ve met that’s made me feel this way.”

Before you were aware of his movements, he closed the distance. Your eyes flutter shut as you take in the softness of Bucky’s lips, moving slowly and calculating over your own. His grip tightens on your waist, and you feel how the tips of his fingers press into your skin, making your mind go white. You press your body closer to him, breathing heavily as you press your lips against his. He pulls away when he feels your knees buckle gently, chuckling. “Careful, doll. I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable.” You shake your head in an effort to come to and give him a response. “N-no, It’s fine, you didn’t make me feel uncomfortable.”

“Good,” he replies, voice darkening. He laughs again, causing you to giggle with him and lean in again.

“You do have a staring problem, though,” Sam chides through the speaker of Red Wing. Thecombat drone floats into your line of sight, hovering menacingly over Bucky’s shoulder. You jump back away from Bucky as if you were burned, feeling embarrassed. Bucky sighs exasperatedly, leaning against the treadmill and shaking his head. “By the way, thanks for finally taking our advice! I have all of that on camera, you know that, right?”

Bucky rolls his eyes with a huff. “Get out of my face, Sam, or I’ll break it.”

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