#this woulda been a fuck around and find out moment

[mxtxfanatic]

One day this fandom will have a reckoning on how it likes to blame Jin Xixuan's death on Wei Wuxian—whether by maliciousness or a "loss of control"—while ignoring the fact that Jin Zixuan died because he lunged at Wei Wuxian with a drawn sword because he was angry that Wei Wuxian told him that he doesn't trust him after he refused to tell Wei Wuxian whether or not he was a part of the ambush his cousin set up after Wei Wuxian told him to keep his distance from him after he told Wei Wuxian to stop defending himself against an ambush that he showed up to and was plainly told was put together to kill Wei Wuxian after he had already been bodily pushing Wei Wuxian around to protect his cousin. But all of that is supposed to be forgiven and forgotten because the reason he wanted Wei Wuxian to ignore all logic and put his life in danger was for Jiang Yanli's temporary happiness? Lol. Lmao even.

[oceantornadoo]

part two - outlaw!simon x reader who was supposed to marry johnny (rip)

when you wake in the morning, there is no husband in your bed and an angry sheriff at your door.

the missing husband is a later problem. you snatch your worn dressing gown from your nearby chair, shirking it on over your night shift as you head towards the door. you grab your rifle on the way, noting simon had unloaded it when you weren't paying attention. bastard.

"mornin' ma'am." sheriff graves is a sunny character on your doorstep, western sun and a shifty smile. you mutter a greeting back, wondering why in god's name he is pounding at your door when the sun has barely touched the sky. "did ya have any trouble last night? there's rumors of an outlaw group on the edge of town." you shake your head, gaze holding firm. "no, sir. woulda shot 'em if i did." he nods, then looks down at his boots. "and that husband of yours? he at home, protectin' his wife?" ah, so that's why he's here. everyone knows you are married but no one's ever met the guy, seeing as he's been journeying over mountains and grasslands to get to you. sheriff graves is well aware of your lonesome self, just you and your rifle. "he's around, sir. i'll be introducin' him to yall soon enough. 'course, we're spendin' some time together as man and wife first."

his pupils go wide at your insinuation, not ladylike in the slightest. 'course, you are a barmaid, so what's to be expected of you? "i see. well, i'll leave you to your mornin', ma'am." if he really wanted to give you your morning, he wouldn't have woken you up so early, but you weren't going to give him that much attitude. "good day, sheriff." you close the door when his boots are still in its shadow, a little too close to be polite.

"you protectin' me, darlin'?" you jump at his voice, nearly scaring you out of your gown. "good lord, give a girl some warning!" he's fully dressed, hiding in the shadows of your pantry in a full-black outfit. you take in the bandana hiding his face, the all-black chaps encasing his thick thighs, and the holsters strapped and loaded. "you're up early." he grunts, coming closer. simon checks the door lock, then pushes you up against it with his body, his arms coming to hold the wall over your head. "had t' water my horse. you miss me?" you shake your head vehemently. "you snore. you will not be gettin' in my bed again soundin' like a freight train." instead of taking offense, he laughs, all gravel in your ear. "johnny woulda loved you."

you can tell he regrets saying it the moment it leaves his lips. his body tightens, that easy flirtation dying in the wind. "you miss him?" you ask quietly, testing the lines between you. "everyday. less now, i think. got a spitfire to take care of." unwillingly you lean closer, crossing your arms over your chest. "you better be talkin' about your horse." he grumbles something unintelligible, one hand leaving the wall to ghost against your hip. you're reminded of last night, of his rough embrace and warm arms.

"hips up for me, sweetheart. there ya go." simon places a pillow underneath your hips, the angle revealing more of your cunt to him. you whine as he stares, hips bucking as if to entice him. "y'r so needy, darlin'." you moan, one leg reaching out around his waist to tug him closer. he lets out a laugh as you line up your pelvises, the rough material of his pants rubbing against your bare body.

"i've been horny. can't fuck anyone when you're married, apparently." he hums, opting to trace the line of your jaw instead of the seam of your cunt. "still, coulda been a killer, yet you opened up so easily for me." embarassment courses through your body but you refuse to feel the shame along with it. you reach out your hands to find his zipper, tugging it down when he doesn't stop you. "you're no killer. if johnny trusted you, so do i." your hand finds his cock beneath the layers of his clothes, tugging it out slowly. he hisses when it meets the cool night air, already so hard and ready to go. "don't go makin' assumptions about me, sweetheart. there's a lot you don't know."

the fear hits you for a moment. a realization that this man could be lying completely, some stranger off the street who barreled his way into your home. you search his eyes for the truth, sticking to your belief in the good in people. you find it in his gaze; he's trying to scare you. you smirk at the thought, this big tough man wanting to scare you, a lady living on her own in the wild west. takes a lot more to do that. "can i put it in?" you refuse to acknowledge what he said, gripping his cock tightly and tapping it against your opening. he's already made you come twice, once on the kitchen table and another against the door, but you still need to be full. "yeah baby, put it in."

you shake out of your daydream, noting the moving path of the sun lighting the outline of simon's body. "c'mon, i'll show you where my stable is. and then maybe, if you're good, you can come to my shift at the pub later." he snorts, one hand on your hip. the feeling of possession is alien. you've spent so many nights dreaming of johnny, dreaming of having a husband, that simon's presence feels like something you need to wake up from. he could be a figment of your imagination, you decide, watching him untie his horse from a nearby tree and bring her over. instead of walking down that mental path, you take another step towards this outlaw of a husband and try to shake off the butterflies in your stomach.

--

PART FOUR

yes he's wearing the gunslinger fit idc but with the bandana (i couldn't find a good pic)

tag list:

@chickennn-soupp

@vmaxis

@samanthamarkle92

@sinful-tawtute

@nightingale2124

@scottpilgrimvsmyfists

@saucypeanuttt

[ahyperactivehero]

i asked on election night if anyone wanted a little drabble to help with the stress, and unfortunately it has taken me a little longer than i would like to get them out!

@det-agency: please write Edwin getting turned into an orb for the first time pre-canon and Charles freaking out i think itd be so fun

(fun fact, this is my first orb fic! i've wanted to write one for a minute, but this is the first that i've actually sat down and wrote out!)

Drabble 5 (Orb Fic)

London, 1991

Getting chased by a vengeful ghost was not exactly what Charles had planned for when they’d set off to speak to their client, but he supposed that’s what you get being a ghost detective.

Edwin sprinted ahead of him, his long legs easily giving him the speed that he needed to leave their client in the dust. 

“Who woulda thought our client was the guilty one?” Charles yelled out to Edwin, who glanced over his shoulder. 

“It is certainly a twist,” Edwin said. He suddenly veered off to the right, racing towards the bedroom mirror they had come through earlier. If they could get there, they could head back to their newly established office and regroup. They’d certainly need to think of a better plan now that their client had turned on them and absolutely wasted their original suspect.

Edwin reached the mirror, his hand outstretched as he concentrated on getting them back to the office. Charles turned around, his hands immediately finding comfort in his cricket bat. If that bastard even thought about getting close to them he’d smash him.

“Come on,” he heard Edwin mutter under his breath. “Find it, find it, find it.”

Mirror travel was something Charles had yet to master, but Edwin was aces at it. It would probably only take him a second before–

A choked, gasping sound came from behind him, followed by the tell-tale sound of someone stepping through a mirror. He spun around, worried for a moment that Edwin might have fallen through the mirror and been separated from him, when he felt his soul go cold.

Their client, Geoff Mann, stepped from the mirror. His hand was already through, and in his fist was an iron knife.

An iron knife covered in ghostly blood.

“Edwin!” Charles yelled, rushing forward just as Edwin staggered backwards.

His hands were on his throat, blood seeping through his fingers. Charles felt panic like he never had before. Iron hurt ghosts, but could it kill them? Was stabbing enough to obliterate a ghost? Maybe not, but what about cutting their throat?

Edwin fell straight into his arms, and Charles would have dropped his cricket bat if it weren’t for the vengeful ghost of their client standing over them. Blood dripped off of the knife and pooled on the carpet and it seemed wrong that it wouldn’t actually stain it. Not that Charles wanted anything to be stained with his best friend’s blood, it just seemed wrong that it wouldn’t.

“Hold on,” he said in what he hoped was his most reassuring voice. Gently, and without looking away from Geoff, he slid Edwin to the floor. He ignored his hand dragging down Charles’s arm, begging him to stay– to not leave him alone.

This would only take a moment. Besides, he needed to take care of the threat before he tended to Edwin.

“You fucked up,” Charles said, twirling his bat. Geoff didn’t even have the decency to look the least bit frightened. 

“You’re gonna make me move on,” Geoff said. “And I ain’t doin’ it.”

They weren’t. That’s not what their Agency did. They couldn’t force someone to move on if they didn’t want to. It wasn’t even what Geoff had originally hired them for!

But none of that mattered now. Not when Edwin was behind him, gasping and potentially dying. 

(He wasn’t even sure what dying would mean for a ghost. Would he go back to Hell? Disappear?)

He didn’t even give him a chance to respond. He swung his bat against his arm, almost enjoying the way it cracked and forced him to drop his knife.

Charles wasn’t a violent person, no matter how much he feared being like his father. But the satisfaction he got from seeing that man drop to his knees in pain after what he’d done to Edwin? Well, he might need to reflect on that.

The urge to keep going was strong– after all, what was to stop him from coming after them later? – but he forced himself to stop. 

“If anything happens to him,” Charles warned, holding out his bat against the other man’s head. “I’m comin’ back.”

Quicker than the other man could react, he bent down and picked up his knife and turned back to get Edwin. 

He laid there, air and blood gurgling as he tried to keep his wound closed. At some point his eyes had screwed shut, like that might help block out the pain. They sprang open at the first sign of Charles’s touch, that faint bit of panic he’d seen when something reminded him of Hell shooting across his face before flattening out into something more manageable.

“Let's go,” Charles said. He put his hands under his armpits, intending to haul Edwin up if he had to, but a flash of light overwhelmed his vision and Edwin disappeared.

“Edwin!” he yelled and looked from hand to hand as if he might have somehow been hiding there. 

A small orb, just a bit bigger than a cricket ball, floated there in front of him. There was no trace of Edwin, just the small, pulsing yellow orb.

“Edwin?” he asked, unable to keep the disbelief out of his voice.

The orb bobbed for a moment, as if it were answering. The yellow seemed to glow brighter for a second before dimming until it was a faded, off-white color. 

Forget it. Charles had no clue what was going on, but he didn’t have time for this. He snatched Edwin up and booked it through the mirror,  no destination in mind– only intent on getting them as far away as possible.

It took several tries before he got back to the office, and by then his nonexistent heartbeat had slowed down to something far more bearable. Without even thinking he tossed his bag and bat to the floor and uncovered the ball of light he’d been keeping safe in his hands.

There was an unexpected feeling to it, not quite a weight but certainly a warmth. It reminded him of when he was alive and he’d stick his cold finger next to a heater or run them under warm water once they’d gone numb.

It was the first time he’d felt warmth since he died.

He held the orb closer to his face and chest for inspection. It was perfectly round, the edges of it reminding him of an impossible mix of glass and a cloud. It wasn’t solid, but he also couldn’t put his hand through it, even if he tried.

“Edwin?” he asked again. Could this really be Edwin? What had that ghost done to him?

The orb pulsed, yellow light coming back to it before fading again into that cool, white light.

So it really must be Edwin. 

He glanced over at Edwin’s slowly growing collection of books and wondered if there was something about this in one of them. The subject of orbs had never come up before, but then again, neither one of them had ever been as hurt as Edwin was before. 

Was this what happened when something hurt them? How badly did they need to be hurt in order for it to happen? 

“Hey,” Charles said as he ran his hand over the orb. “Don’t worry, I’ve gotcha.”

There was another pulse. The orb seemed to hover above his hands for a moment before gravity seemed to take over it and it dropped back down. 

In a sheer panic, Charles caught it. Or not it, he supposed. Because this thing had to be Edwin. If it wasn’t that would mean that either Edwin was gone or he’d left him behind with their insane client. 

The idea that he might have done that nearly sent him into a tailspin. Should he double back and check? What if this was a trick and the real Edwin was somehow still there? Or what if there was something special about his knife that had turned Edwin into an orb?

Gently, he cradled Edwin to his chest as he turned to look for his bag. He’d picked up the knife, hadn’t he? Thankfully, it only took a few tries before he successfully pulled it from his bag. Ha, take that Edwin, he was getting better at using it.

“See, mate,” he said, his voice low and soft as he spoke over the orb. “I told you this bag was worth it. Already earnin’ its keep, hm?”

The handle of the knife was thankfully not iron coated. Charles hadn’t even thought about that earlier when he’d grabbed it. All he’d been thinking about was that Edwin was hurt, and he’d needed to disarm the guy.

Blood covered the blade, but aside from that there seemed to be nothing interesting about it at all. Not strange markings, no traces of magic that he could tell. It looked exactly like every other boring knife out there.

Except this one had hurt his friend.

The orb– Edwin, Charles supposed– pulsed again, the light from it peeking out between his fingers. Had Charles squeezed it by accident? He’d been so focused on the knife, so caught up in thoughts of their client hurting him that he hadn’t really…

Slowly but with more force than Charles anticipated, the orb pulled free from his hand. It bobbed around the room, floating here and there as if it were looking for something. It lingered above Edwin’s chair, the space where the other boy spent most of his time in the office. 

Yet there was nothing for it to do. It’s not like the orb had hands. It couldn’t hold a book or write or do anything that usually interested Edwin. 

As if it had realized this, it lazily floated back over to Charles. That yellow light seemed to be getting even stronger, calming Charles’s nerves just a bit. A strong light had to be a good sign, yeah? Surely that meant that Edwin was fine. 

Except what if he wasn’t fine? What if yellow was bad and he was trying to warn Charles? What if he needed help, and Charles couldn’t understand him? How was he meant to do anything if Edwin couldn’t talk to him anymore?

The orb bumped into his head, the softest, gentlest headbutt Charles had ever experienced. His thoughts slowed down as he lifted his hands up to cup the orb again.

“Well, mate,” Charles said. “What do you think we should do?” 

Edwin didn’t answer. Not that Charles thought he would.

“What if I read to you?” he asked. “I love it when you read to me. Helps me relax, yeah?”

Edwin seemed to warm up in his hands again. Charles took that as a good sign.

He strolled over to Edwin’s bookcase (our bookcase, Charles, the Edwin in his mind reminded him) and browsed their selection. Most of them were detective novels, but Edwin had recently started to collect more on magic and the supernatural.

No, he thought, should really stick to a classic.

“What about Sherlock Holmes? You love him,” he said, as if Charles didn’t also love him.

He grabbed one of their Sherlock Holmes books at random and made his way over to the couch. “Might as well get comfy, eh?” he asked and sprawled out.

For a moment, Charles was sure Edwin was going to float away. Maybe he hadn’t been as interested in reading to him as he’d thought. Instead, Edwin merely rolled down until he was resting on Charles’s chest, that warm, familiar feeling spreading all over him.

So Charles read to him. He read to him until he had finished one book, and then started on another that he could reach. His voice was a low rumble, the sound fading into the background as he split his attention between the words and Edwin. Time passed slowly and hazily, the sort of dream-like quality that only came when it didn’t really matter.

Eventually, when he thought he might go insane from reading so much, he talked. He told Edwin how he was sorry he hadn’t been fast enough to stop him– because really, Charles had been right there after all– and how he hoped that Edwin forgave him. He told him that when Edwin felt better, he would do anything he wanted. He’d even go see that play he’d been talking about that Charles couldn’t remember the name of if he wanted. And there was a show that Charles was interested in going to, but they could stand at the back where it was quieter and they were less likely to get stepped on if Edwin wanted to come.

He told him how much he missed him. How worried he was about him. How he knew that it had only been about a day since he’d gone into this form, but he didn’t think he’d missed anyone this much. Not his mum or dad, not his friends or teachers. No one.

Finally, he fell silent. He was sure that if he dug down deep enough there was more for him to say, but what was the point? Edwin was still stuck looking like the world’s brightest cricket ball, and he had just spilled about everything he had in him.

“I’m just worried,” Charles said. His arms wrapped around the orb so tightly it doubled as a self-hug. “Y’know I worry.”

Then again, maybe Edwin didn’t know. Charles loved to portray himself as this confident, friendly guy. Sure, he could be protective, but did Edwin know he was serious enough that he could worry?

Something shifted. The solid, golden color the orb had been since he’d started reading to him briefly changed. It flashed blue, a color that Charles normally loved but reminded him too much of Death in this instance, before it faded, and the orb was gone.

Before he could worry whether or not Death had actually come for them, he felt a solid weight pressing down on him. And there, in his lap, laid out across him, was Edwin. His feet were tucked up, allowing his long body to fit neatly onto the couch, his head cradled against Charles’s chest.

“Edwin?” he breathlessly asked.

Edwin shifted, his head tilting back just enough to look up at him. Charles had to loosen his death grip on him to allow even that. “Charles?”

Immediately, Charles hugged him closer. He smashed Edwin’s face into his chest and pressed his chin to the top of his head. “Don’t ever do that again, mate,” he said. “I mean it.”

For a moment, Edwin was frozen. Then, he thawed and relaxed himself into Charles’s hug. “I did not mean to worry you,” he said softly.

“Yeah, well, you did,” Charles said without any heat to it. Finally, he let his arms slide away from Edwin and allowed himself to get his first real look at his friend.

The first thing he noticed was that he looked tired. Dark bags lined his eyes and blood still smeared his collar, although whatever wound had been made was gone. He seemed paler than normal as well, but Edwin was always so pale it was hard to tell. 

“Alright?” he asked, still looking for any sign that he wasn’t.

Edwin nodded. “Yes,” he said. His voice sounded stronger than before, and God if it didn’t sound like Heaven to Charles. The idea that he might never have heard his friend speak again hadn’t truly hit him until this moment. “I believe I am unharmed.”

Charles’s eyes darkened. “You were stabbed. In the neck,” he said. Or close enough, anyways. “And then you turned into this glowing ball, and… well, I didn’t know what to do.”

Edwin flinched at the mention of his wound before soothing his expression into one of fondness. “Yes, I… seem to remember that,” he said. His hand came up to touch his throat, only to find no wound there. “It would seem I have healed.”

“Maybe that’s what that was?” he asked and made a gesture with his hand to show orb-sized Edwin. “Maybe that was like ‘ghost healing’?” 

Something between annoyance and acceptance flashed across Edwin’s face. “I believe you have it right,” Edwin said. “It would seem that would be the form ghosts take when they heal.”

Charles nodded. “Kinda brills, honestly. Like a turtle goin’ into their shell or something.”

Edwin squinted his eyes at the comparison. “I suppose,” he said. And then almost immediately collapsed when he tried to get up.

“Oi!” Charles said and wrapped his arms around him. “What’re you doing? You wanna be an orb again?” 

Edwin huffed as he settled back down. His face had washed out even more after his ill-advised attempt. “No, I do not,” he said. “But it hardly seems appropriate for me to just… lay all over you.”

Before he had died, Charles might have agreed. There was a certain amount of weirdness to it, he supposed, but that didn’t mean that he wanted Edwin to get up. In fact, he wanted Edwin to stay right where he was until he was strong enough to stand without passing out again.

Edwin rolled his eyes when he said this. “I did not pass out. Ghosts cannot do that,” he said. Yet he laid his head back down against Charles’s chest, his now ruffled hair tickling Charles’s chin. 

“Go back to sleep,” Charles said. Before Edwin could argue, he held a hand up and used it to gently bop him on the arm. “And don’t say ghosts can’t sleep. That’s basically what you were doing before.”

Edwin started to shake his head, but the motion quickly became him snuggling down against Charles. “I am merely resting my eyes.”

Charles grinned, a sudden wave of fondness he’d never felt for anyone else overtaking him. “Yeah, well rest your mouth too.”

Edwin tried to flip him off but failed. “Almost had it,” Charles teased.

“I’ll figure it out one day,” he said before fading back off to sleep. 

At least this time he stayed a ghost.

[graves4girls]

☆ let's go to bed | miguel o'hara

✮ wc. 763 ⚠︎ warning(s): fem!reader soft!miguel truther 4 life ⟡ be sure to check out my work on ao3 → gravesforgirls !!

Sliding one of his shirts he'd left behind over your pillow because you miss him. You hadn't seen him in a good few days, on account of a particularly difficult anomaly, and the best idea you can muster right now is to just fall asleep to the linger of his cologne clinging to the fabric. 

You're curled up in your warm bed, tucked under the covers with the side of your face smooshed into your pillow, wallowing in the faint woody scent as you snore quietly. You don't hear the squeak of your unlatched window sliding open, but you stir when the pane closes with a sounding thud, a hushed expletive following as you slowly awaken. Your eyes wrench open to squint around the dark room, panicking for a moment when your gaze falls on the hulking figure beside your bed, clad in dark shadows, before you realize what's happening. Your face heats up a bit when you remember what your current state looks like, how pathetic it has to be.

"I didn't know you were gonna swing by tonight. A little heads-up woulda' been nice. You scared the shit out of me."

You sluggishly sit up from your mass of blankets, eyes still adjusting to the darkness as you look up at him.

"You shouldn't leave your window unlocked. That's incredibly dangerous."

"I live on the sixth floor. I doubt much could happen."

He scoffs quietly, but he has a gentle smirk on his lips. "I didn't mean to wake you up." He stalls for a second, eyes dancing across your sleepy figure. "Y'know, you're cute when you're sleeping."

"Creep." 

He chortles quietly, stepping closer to the bed, but he stops, and your skin flares again when you see his gaze slide to the pillow beside you.

"Is that my shirt?" 

You sputter a bit, utterly embarrassed he caught you stooping as low as that. "I know, it's weird. I just–" You trip over your words as you dig for an explanation that doesn't sound insanely desperate.

"Oye, cálmate. It's not weird. Es lindo." 

He moves to sit on the mattress, reaching out a big hand to wrap around your own, thumbing over your knuckles. You sit there for a moment in comfortable silence, grinning stupidly when he raises your arm to drop a kiss to the back of your hand.

"Eres tan bonita, muñeca. C'mere, mamí."

You scoot closer to him to nestle into his side as he leans back against the headboard of the bed, slinking his arm around your waist as he looks down at you. City lights bleed into the room from your drawn curtains, painting him in soft purples and whites that wash over him perfectly, the light delicately clashing with the harsh shadows of his angular features. 

"How did the mission go?" You drape a leg over his lap to get impossibly closer, letting your hand settle over his chest.

"Awry, at first, but we got him and sent him back to his universe. He was a lot bigger of a threat than any of us had thought."

You can tell just the thought of what had happened irked him, if the way he clenched his jaw was any telltale.

"Well, I'm glad you're okay. And now you can relax for a little bit. Just me and you."

That soft smile finds its way back onto his lips, and he sinks further into the bed, rolling onto his side to wrap around you like a constrictor. He's kissing you now, tender and sweet, one of his hands sliding up your spine to hold the back of your head. It's cool in your room, but he's insanely warm against you, big hands moving to clutch at your hips as your arm curls around his waist, slipping your hand under his shirt to let your fingertips run along his bare skin. He drops a kiss to the corner of your mouth, your jaw bone, one more to your throat before he nuzzles his nose into your neck, taking in a long breath and letting out a tired sigh, big shoulders relaxing as he closes his eyes, lashes tickling your skin.

"Let me sleep in tomorrow morning. I'm fucking exhausted."

One of your hands comes up to comb your fingers through his soft curls, pressing a short kiss to the top of his head. "I can tell."

His arms tighten around you to keep you from slipping out of his grasp, and his breath quiets.

"I'm gonna need that shirt back, by the way. It's one of my favorites."

[luvrxbunny]

sleek

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Prompt: Car Sex

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, f!oral sex, piv, unprotected sex (lmk if I forgot anything)

WC: 2.7k

A/N: pretty sure the truck was Tommy’s but we’ll pretend it was Joel’s

You and Joel were on a supply run, nothing you haven’t done a million times before. You guys were wandering around, looking for anything you could find when you heard him let out a sharp gasp. You grip your gun reflexively and start looking around for whatever he saw, but you find nothing. 

“Aww look at this!” He’s admiring a bloody, muddy, beat-down truck. He’s crouching, groaning at his knees when he stands back up to circle the truck. “Wow…” He actually sounds in awe… you don't get it.

“Joel, that truck is in horrible condition.” You deadpan. He turns to you with a childlike glee in his eyes. “No! Don’t say that! She’s jus’ a fixer upper that’s all.” He pats her hood with a smile. “Looks just like my old truck, from before… Of course, mine was cleaner… yeah.”

He runs his finger through the coat of dirt with a sad sigh. “I kept her so nice, so clean.” He glances over at you with a shy smile. “I woulda taken you to a real nice place in her, make it a long drive jus’ to show off for ya’.” It warms your heart, the softness of his fantasy, the domesticity of it.  

“Yeah? I’d be so impressed too.” You make your way over to him, admiring the truck a bit. “I used to love a guy with a truck, especially those ones that need a step to get in.”

You see excitement fly over his face as he holds a finger up to you and rushes to the side of the car, opens the passenger side door, and showcases the step at the bottom of the doorway. “See! You woulda been so impressed.” He sounds a bit deflated at the lost opportunity, you try and indulge him. 

“Where would you take me?” The light returns to his eyes when he turns to you. “Where’d ya’ wanna go?” He stands quickly and rushes to stand in front of you, to watch you answer as though he really needed to know. “Uh- I think I’d love to go to a drive-in theater… especially with a truck!” His smile is wider than you’ve seen in a while.

“Yeah! Yeah, I’d get some blankets, and make the back all nice and comfortable for ya’. You’d be so impressed with me, baby, I swear.” This felt like it was bordering on self depreciation talk and you wouldn’t have it. “Joel. I’m already impressed with how well our date nights go. We’re living on a commune in the apocalypse yet I still feel like the most important thing when I’m with you. That’s the most important thing to me.”

His eyes meet yours sadly. “I have more charm with the truck though.” He has a shy smile on his face as he says it, embarrassed at how true he believes it is. You laugh at his claim. “Sure, Joel. The only appeal this truck has to me… is that there are more places to fuck you in. Other than that, it doesn't serve much purpose.” You watch his face contort in shock for a moment before turning slightly pink. You giggle at his reaction and tell him you guys have to get a move on. 

You’ve taken a few steps when you realize you don’t hear him behind you. You look around and don’t see him at first, then you notice he’s gotten in the truck. 

His obsession is gonna get us stuck out here after sundown. 

You shake your head and make your way back to the truck, his jacket is off, and his back is turned to you. “Joel, what are you doing? You can’t fix the truck” He turns to you and his face is still red, his chest is lightly heaving and there’s a bulge in his pants. “No, but I can still fuck you in it.” 

You look down at the seat to see he’s laid his jacket out for you, so sure that you’re going to let him fuck you in this fake copy of his old truck. He’s right. 

You smile and he reaches his hand out for you to take as you climb in. He watches you press yourself up from the step and almost fall into him. He catches you with a chuckle and your lips are already pressing into his. He groans against your lips at your desperation, at the way you’re already trying to lick into his mouth, repositioning yourself so you can try and wiggle your way onto his lap. 

He smiles into the kiss, pulls your hips away from him, and starts sliding them down, letting you lean back against the seat cushions. He pulls your pants and underwear down to your knees before just diving in. His head buries itself between your legs before you can gasp at the cold air hitting your sensitive skin. 

His tongue is licking across anything he can reach, trying to taste every part of you. One of his hands pulls away from its painful grip on your thighs to unzip his pants. His cock is pressing painfully into the denim as you mewl above him, whining for more, for him to stop and just fuck you, you don’t even know what you want. Joel brings that hand up to lay across your waistline, pressing your hips down against the fabric of his jacket. 

You feel bad because you know you’re making a mess on it. You’re soaked by the way Joel was trying to drink you up, at the groans and grunts he’s letting out between your legs and the way his hips have started to slowly grind his aching cock against the seats. 

Your hips slowly begin to rock into his face, your hands come down to hold his head in place as you do. He groans your name into your pussy as you use him, riding his nose as his tongue tries to wiggle its way inside you. His eyes are shut in concentration but they shoot open to look at you when you start moaning his name. “Joel. C- Joel I’m close- so close, Joel. Joel-“ 

Your hushed voice comes out as a whimper as you try and warn him. Joel is lost in the way you say his name. The way you feel the need to have it on repeat as you cum, like it’s the only thought in your head. 

His hand comes down to palm his raging bulge, relieving some of the tension that’s been building as he fucks into the dirty seats. He’s pulsing for you, to get inside you, to fuck you in his this truck. 

His eyes close at the thought. In an alternate universe, Joel thinks you’d be softer. You’re already so sweet and sensitive for him but without the added sense of danger, Joel thinks you’d be a mess for him. Just melting all over whenever he touched you. 

He’d be more affectionate too, get you into that headspace that makes everything fuzzy. Keep caressing you until all you can do is cling to him and ramble deliriously about how good he makes you feel. He’d love to have the opportunity to take his time with you, bring you so high that you feel like you’ll never come down, and then throw you over the edge. 

“JOEL-“ His name comes out as a shouted gasp before you’re creaming all on his tongue. His eyes roll back behind his shut lids as he desperately tries to drink up all your juices. He’s relishing your taste, moaning praises to you from buried between your legs. He knows you can’t hear them but he means them so truthfully he doesn’t even need you to, he just can’t stop them from tumbling out of his mouth. 

You have to tug his hair to get him out, to stop him from. overstimulating you to the point of immobility. “Joel. S- You s-said you’d fuck me.” 

You’re whining for him, already begging for more and he is more than willing to give it to you. He’s already pushing himself off the ground, pulling his jeans down, and climbing over you with a smirk. You’re wearing a pout that’s reluctantly turning into a shy smile under his gaze. He helps you pull your pants completely off your legs before spreading you open. 

He has one leg over his shoulder and the other resting on his hip, his hands are clutching each ankle as he smiles down at you. “Wanna put me in, baby?” His accent makes the words slide out of his throat like honey, spilling from his lips like they’re the sweetest syrup. 

Your pussy is already squeezing down on nothing, begging him to stretch you. He chuckles at the whimper you let out before grabbing his thick cock and lining him with your entrance. You can feel his tip resting so far outside where your hole sits naturally and your heart begins to race. You can tell Joel is having the same thoughts by the way his gaze is focused on where you two are touching, where his tip is just leaking into your hole. His breaths are coming out in small pants and he’s trying to stop his hips from thrusting his cock inside you, pushing his way through. 

You wiggle your hips slowly, trying to ease him in. His tip slides in quicker than you expected, you flinch and moan at the sensation, winning a rare whine from Joel as his tip catches on your ever-constricting pussy. His hand has to leave one of your legs to push your hips down onto the seats, ensuring that you don’t take any more of him in. 

If you did, Joel thinks he’d blow his load instantly. 

Now you’re whining on his tip, begging him for more as he squeezes the base of his dick, trying to will his load to stay at bay. Your whines start to get a bit weaker, more watery and you start to sniff. Joel’s eyes snap to yours and see your face turned away from him with little steaks of water from wiped tears on your cheeks. He reaches for you immediately. 

“What? What’s wrong, honey? Does it hurt? Wan’ me t’take it out, baby? C’mon, talk to me.”

You turn to Joel and shake your head with a sad smile before trying to kiss him but he turns away to whisper in your ear. “Gotta tell me what’s wrong first, darlin’.”

He lets you cling to him, a hand still on your hip as you try to coax more of his cock into you, wiggling your hips and clenching rhythmically to try and convince him to push into you as you let it little sobs into his neck. “J- Just need you s- so bad J- Joel. I need it, need you.”

He swears his vision blurs for a moment. He’s heard you say this to him countless times and it turns him on, sure. But he’s always known you say it for that specific reason. 

This time, however, it feels like you really mean it. The way your body is crying- the way you’re literally crying for him. It’s all too much, it doesn’t feel real. He can’t believe the way he makes you feel so good, it’s all he wants; to make you feel good. His cock won’t stop pulsing inside you, he’s trying to calm down but your whines for him are almost too much. 

He starts thrusting into you, he doesn’t work his way up to the brutal pace he’s currently at. He started that way, fueled by the shout of his name from your lips. He hides himself in your neck and your hands come up to cradle his head against you, your hands digging into his soft hair as he ruts into you. “I’m not gonna last.” 

The words rush out of his mouth and you moan his name in response. Your pussy suffocates him, pulling him- forcing him closer to the edge. “I w- want it, Joel. Please cum inside me-” You gasp at your own words and Joel can feel his balls tightening at them. “Joel-” Your tone becomes frantic and you’re clawing at his shoulders, his neck and gripping his hair to pull his head from your neck. You’re staring at his face now, hands on either side, but his eyes are still closed. He’s still too close, he doesn’t want- he can’t risk cumming before you. He needs you to cum on him first, for you to moan his name in the way you only do when he’s got you shaking on his cock… but you’re whining at him to open his eyes, to look at you. You’re begging him. 

“Look at me when I cum, Joey. P-please. Joel-” You gasp out a moan and your fingers tighten in his hair, pulling him in for a blind kiss. He can’t help but open for you, letting you lick into his mouth, trying to ignore the way his stomach burns at the taste of your tongue. He takes a shaky breath to calm himself and you’re moaning against his lips again. “I need it.” You’re breathless as you try not to cum, letting out breathy keens and high-pitched sighs of his name. He can feel you twitching on his cock, squeezing him for a moment before whining and trying your hardest not to. He can’t deny you any longer. His eyes open and meet your instantly. 

You pull his head to yours, desperately trying to fall into his eyes as your orgasm crashes over you, only waiting for Joel’s gaze to unleash it. Your mouth opens wider the tighter your pussy chokes his cock, you’re gazing right into his eyes as you cream all over his cock. 

He can’t. His breathing picks up as you stare into him, so lovingly. He starts panting, his breath fanning over your face until little whines and curses work their way out of his throat. His chest is heaving and his hips are slowly losing their rhythm. “I-inside, Joel. Wan’ it.” Your words slur together as your eyes roll back at the pulsing of his cock inside you. 

Your name is falling from his lips like a plea before he brings his body flush against yours. His hand comes behind your head to pull you up into a sitting position as he leans back onto his heels, still thrusting into you slowly. “‘M gonna gi-give it to you, baby. Gonna fill you-” Pleasure runs up his spine with a shudder and his eyes fall shut. 

“ ‘M cummin’, sweetheart.” The words are more whiny than you’ve ever heard him and he starts spilling into you. He’s grunting out sounds that vaguely resemble your name, working himself up into a whine as he continues to thrust into you. His brows furrow and his hips stutter to a stop but he’s still filling you, so you start to grind on him. His eyes shoot open with a ragged moan. “Can’t- It-” He struggles to get the words out as you swivel your hips on him, enticing his cock to let another round of cum spit into you. His eyebrows pull inward as you smile at him deliriously, letting an innocent giggle fall from your mouth. 

He moans your name against your lips, his hands on your lower back to hold you up as he finishes filling you. His entire body shudders with the last rope of cum that shoots into you, earning a pretty moan from your lips. “Fuck, Joel.”

He grunts into your neck, placing soft kisses there while he tries to calm down. You’re humming at each one and stroking the back of his head softly, resting your head on top of his. He’s letting shuddering sighs out against your skin as his cock softens inside you. He slowly pulls his head out from your neck, you leave your hand on the back of his head and give him a crooked, lazy smile that warms his heart. “Tha’ was so much, Joey.”

He groans at the pet name and smiles at you fondly. You’re whispering fucked out praises in his ear as he cleans you up and you cling to him the whole way home. 

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, here's the rest of my Kinktober Works and be sure to check out my Main Masterlist!!

[indecenthoney]

At Each Other's Throats

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

You can find my other stories here!

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

 "The fuck you looking at, runt?"

 "Nothing... Just looking... I didn't think they made people as ugly as you..." 

"Huh?!? You wanna fucking fight?"

 "I thought you'd never ask… Bring it, pussy!"

 "Guys. THE PROJECT!" 

There was never a moment that we weren't at each other's throats. Emma was a bite-sized girl with an attitude. Surprisingly enough, she got along with just about anyone. Me being the exception. And I've been around her since kindergarten. I wasn't so sure what made her hate me so much nor did I ever ask. But I wasn't going to take her attitude lying down. After all, we've always been sort of competitive. I just assumed this was just the norm for us, so I didn't really pay it much mind. However, our fights became more frequent and physical by the time we entered college. The only time there was ever peace was after we've fought. I'm not proud about hitting a girl. But she was as far from a girl that I had ever known. And sometimes I'd wonder. Emma knew how to throw a punch and take one as well. And despite our height difference, it never stopped her from picking a fight with me. We did our best to stay away from each other. Unfortunately, that bliss had soon disappeared with our professor grouping us up for a project. Even with our peers disagreeing with the arrangement, he was quite adamant about his decision. Lecturing us about the cruel world. Emphasizing that we will bump into people that we don't want to work with, but that's just how it is. This very decision of his lead to multiple fistfights and arguments. After some scolding from our team, we went about the project without a hitch. All the team really had to do was tape our mouths and keep us apart. 

"Good job team! Thank FUCKING god it's over! A big thank you to our two brawlers who carried this project… Who woulda thought they’d have the brains and brawn? Hahaha... Jokes aside… A cheers to all of you, and let's have a good time, alright?" 

"There you are... You heard the man... Good job on stuttering the entire presentation, pipsqueak..." 

"Huh?! You lonely or something? I don't remember calling you over... And for your information, I would have read it better if it weren't for your chicken scratch..." 

"Chicken scratch?!? Please... Maybe you should get your eyes checked, grandma…." 

"Haha very funny. Ever heard of a laptop? Type it out, old man..."

"Wowwwww… Original insult… Tell me… Was it really my hand writing? Or maybeeee the big words were a little too hard for you… Don’t worry, I’ll dumb it down for you next time…”

"You wanna fucking go?" 

"And here I thought you were getting soft on me… C’mon shorty, throw the first punch…”

“Hey hey hey! What’s everyone cheering for? Oh my fucking god... Seriously? YOU TWO? Again? Really? When I said to have a good time, I didn’t mean to start beating the fuck out of each other… You know what? Sit… ”

“But…”

“He started it…”

“I don’t give a fuck who started it… You guys are going to settle this NOW… You... Bring me the cooler… Rules… First one to black out loses... Loser owes the winner servitude for a week… End of story…”

“Is this really necessary?” 

“Yeah! Give Oliver a break... He can’t hold his drink, you know…"

“Nevermind… Give me that damn can…”

What started off as entertainment for the entire party quickly became a health concern as the floor littered with beer cans. Yet even then, the insults and provocations were clear as a day. Every spectator urging us to keep pace with one another. The crowd joined in. Showing no signs of stopping. The once cheering crowd slowly dropped one after another. Blacking out in the process. Leaving us three standing.

"Oof... Man down..."

"HAHAHAHHA... Light weights!"

"Jeez... Even drunk you guys are still fucking stubborn... Ugh... As much as I want to see how this turns out... Some of these guys have a curfew... Listen... You two can hang out here for all I care... But be sure to clean all this trash up, alright? I don't wanna deal with the extra fees for trashing this place..."

"What? Why us?"

"Heeyyyyyyy Oliverrrrr shtopppp talkinggg! You're shlowing downnnn! Drinkkkkk!"

"Did you get hit in the head too many times, Oliver? You're drunk... I'm not trusting you two idiots to drop our friends home... Now go sober up and fucking clean this place... We'll get you guys in the morning... Alright... C'mon... Wake up... I'm dropping you guys home... Crawl if you have to... Yeah yeah... Sleep in the car..."

"Jeez... Bossy much...? Huh, Jason?"

"Who'd be able handle you two if I wasn't little bit bossy...?"

"Livvvvv.... Drinkkkk..."

"Alright alright... Stop smothering me..."

Jason had a point. Despite playing it cool, I honestly doubt I could have made it to the car. After leaving us be, Emma was still raring to go. Pushing another cold one up to my cheek. Looking back, this might be the first time we ever really sat down and enjoyed each other's company. She had this dumb smile, and honestly, I had no choice but to roll with it. Who would've thought that all it took for us to get along was a few drinks? I gladly accepted. With beer in our system, visions gradually blur. Words exited and slurred without form. Yet we were happy. The eager pace slowed down to a casual sip and laughter. Taking our time, exchanging stories. Although nice things never last. Our drinking came to a sudden halt. Not a single beer or bottle in sight.

"Did you see those two? By the kitchen?"

"Dude... Yessss... The tension between those two... Jeez... Just fuck already..."

"Right?!? Unbelievable... Mmm... Liv... Beer me... My cans empty..."

"Wait hold on... Lemme... Uhhhhh... Shit... Not to ruin the mood, Em... But that was the last one..."

"What?!? No fucking way... How're we supposed to do the bet? Livvvvvv...."

"Stop shaking me... Will you relax? It's just a dumb bet... Does it really matter at this point? No one's here..."

"Huh... Fuck you... We've been drinking for the past three hours... Yes, it matters... It mattered when you went on to chug those two beers in front of those girls... which I remind you that I had to keep up with... Show off... And not to mention, it mattered every single day we fought... So yes, it matters... Because we have a fucking score to settle..."

"What are you talking about? Weren't we just having fun-"

"Oh shut up... I saw you making those googly eyes at those girls... Do you really think chugging beers is going to impress them?"

"Well fuck you! Like you know anything about impressing anyone... Before I found you... You were just standing in the corner like some lost... puppy..."

"Excuse me? If anyone's acting like a dog, it's you... Uhuh... Unlike you, I don't have to chase after every piece of ass I see... But you know what? Since you know everything... Why don't you prove it? Yeah, that's right... Let's change the bet... Why don't we make out... The first one to moan... loses..."

"Fuck no... You're drunk... I am not going to kiss you..."

"Oh please... It's just a kiss... It's not that big a deal... Don't tell me you're scared to lose..."

"Haha... Very funny... I'm gonna go clean up... H-hey what're you- Get off me..."

"Listen... If you wanna give up, that's fine by me... But YOU owe me for a week... Hahahaha... Maybe I'll put a collar on your neck and strut you around those girls you like so much..."

"Huh?! You're making a lot of excuses, Em... You sure you don't just wanna kiss me or something?"

"Ew... Don't get me wrong... This isn't some sad attempt to kiss you... I... fucking... hate... you... The only reason I'm doing this is because I want to win... Now, are you in, or are you out?"

"Fine... But if you lose... You're going to be the one wearing the collar..."

"Deal..."

"You're soooo gonna regret this..."

"Hahhaha... Oh yeah, tough guy... Make me-"

Getting dragged into her pace was my mistake. She had a way of pissing me off. I knew better, but here I was. Tasting the bitter aftertaste of alcohol on her tongue. As hot as it may seem, it was still Emma. I've never ever seen her in that light. Never planned to. Yet suddenly, I'm tongue-deep in her mouth. As much as I hated doing this. I hated losing to her even more. And before you get all riled up. This wasn't some cliche romance story where enemies share a kiss. No. Our hate-filled eyes were constantly fixated on one another, waiting for a moment of weakness. Watching every little reaction. Please. There was not a gentle thing about her. I hate to admit it but the only soft thing here was her tongue. The buzz making it much more difficult to keep my head straight. Slowly, it felt like she was winning. Her short stature now towering over me. My face cupped along her fingertips allowing for a better angle as she indulged in my lips. My hands now trembling around her waist as she devours me. Moan after moan nearly slipping from underneath me. In my bliss, my tongue had reached out to her only to be met with nothing. Having pulled back to look at the mess she's made. A snarky little grin crept onto her face, leaving me embarrassed.

"That's a good look on you... No no keep your tongue out... Dogs should act like dogs, no? Hahaha... Whose the puppy now?"

"Huh? Big talk coming from someone who's blushing... You going to keep stalling, or you going to kiss me?"

"In your dreams... You're going to have to do better than that if you want to- Mmm! H-hey... I'm t-talkin-... You dum-b... mutt... Mmph!"

Impatient? Yes. Needy? Perhaps. But a mutt? Are you fucking kidding me? I'll fucking show you mutt. Taking advantage of our size difference, I quickly pushed her back against the couch's armrest. Pinning her wrists over her as she helplessly flails underneath me. I was pleased to see her struggle in anger. Besides her cussing, it was almost kind of cute. I was met with the same old protests and insults that I've heard a million times before, which got me thinking. She wouldn't be talking so much with my lips pressed against hers. That being said, I placed one soft kiss after another. Little pecks that seem to agitate her even more. Leading her to snap and bite at my advances. Jokingly, I lick along her lips like the dog she claimed I was. Another string of swears fills the room, only to be interrupted yet again. Playfully enveloping her. Sucking roughly on her tongue. Harsh movements reduced to obedience. Hands clutched around the back of my shirt as she melts from her prior tantrum. Without much thought, my hands had made their to her chest. Gently kneading her perky breasts through her shirt and bra. Subtle pleads, leaving me frozen. Tears running down her face as she calls my name.

"L-livvv... T-that hurts..."

"S-shit... Sorry sorry... W-woah uhm... Y-you okay? Oh fuck... C'mon Em... D-don't cry... I... I didn't mean to... I was just- Ow! Fuck! What the hell, man? Why'd you throw me off? I coulda snapped my neck or something..."

"Good! That's for groping me, asshole! Hahaha... Wow... I was right... You do look better underneath me..."

"What the fuck are you talking about? Weren't you just... crying?"

"Please... Is it really my fault you let your guard down? A girl bats her pretty little eyes at you and you flip the script to play hero... C'mon... That's not us, Liv... And don't act so surprised... You started it... After your little stunt, I think I deserve a turn, no? Fight fire with fire? So you're going to lay there and take it... And if you even think about moving... I'll tell everyone you touched me..."

"Y-you are so... fucking... mental... You know that?"

"Says the person who thought it was alright to pin down a girl and grope them..."

"You bitch..."

Can you see what I'm working with? It's no wonder why we fight so much. She's unreasonable. Rude. Psychotic. And taking my pants off. Wait. What? Taking my pants off? There she was, standing over me with my lower half now exposed. I watched closely as she fidgeted with the clasp of her jeans. Revealing her little black boyshorts briefs. Listen. You might be thinking that this bet is going a bit too far, but would you honestly risk being made a fool around campus? Exactly. And from what's happened so far, I'm guessing she was willing to do whatever it takes to beat me. Even if it meant blackmailing me. And honestly, I don't blame her. There being so much on the line, we didn't exactly know what our intentions were once one of lost. The possibilities were scary. She was in full control of the situation with dirt to back it up. If I acted now, I would have lost more than just a dumb bet. It's ironic, really. I told myself I wouldn't take her attitude lying down. But here I am. With my back against the floor. Groaning in pain as she straddles my hard-on. To make matters worse, the thin fabric of her shorts made it feel almost nonexistent. The thought of her slick, wet cunt grinding against me was unbearable. Losing it would be an understatement. This. This was TORTURE.

"Hahahaa... Mmm... Not looking so h-hot, Oliver... Gonna cum? Hm?"

"F-fuck... y-you... Ngh..."

"Hhahaha... You... w-wish..."

With my mind drawing blanks, I was at a loss. Keeping what composure I had left deemed difficult. Her hands pressed firmly against my chest, riding away at my sanity. Though I was nearing my limit, one sensation rang out above the rest: an irritable, smug laugh brought upon by the belief that she had already won. Nothing pissed me off more than arrogance. Having her literally look down on me was a new low. How could she be so unbothered? Grinding on someone she's hated her whole life. Then it clicked. If she was willing to do anything to win, then it was only right to meet her halfway and do the same. Who cares if she ratted me out? She was just as guilty. Just as wrong. Anything to put this little brat in her place. Unaware. My thumb trailed downward beneath her shirt, inching lower and lower until her frantic hips came to a stop. Surprised. That smug smile was gone, leaving her speechless and struggling to find the words to convey her absolute disapproval.

"Hahahah... What's wrong, Em? Is something the matter?"

"Fucker... What do you think you're doing... t-touching me there? A-asshole... S-stop it..."

"Wowwwww... Where are your fucking manners...? You know what? I don't think I will... Let's get things straight... First off, you started it... Not so fun now, huh?"

"What the fuck are you talking about? You started i-"

"Please... Your twisting the story... All I did was kiss you... You had to amp it up and grind against me..."

"I h-hate you... D-die..."

"Hahhaha... Suffer..."

For as long as I've known Emma, she was never the type to back down from a challenge. Be it for better or for worse, she always proved to be annoyingly persistent. Even now, in her current situation, she still had the audacity to move her hips against mine. There, a constant tug of war was at hand. Each party hoping for the other's downfall. In retaliation, I placed small circles around sensitive flesh. Flick. Brush. And grind. Toying with her clit as I pleased. Her enthusiasm dulled by the alternating rhythm. Rocking hips that seem to stutter at every motion causing her to press her wet, needy cunt along the tip of my cock. The sensation overstimulating me in the process. Forcing me to my limit. Even then, we were too stubborn to give up, pushing ourselves even further than we agreed. Fuck. We were far past, just a moan. Every action, eager to make the other cum. Our common sense failing us as we both reached our climax. A jolt of intense pleasure. Followed by a sense of defeat emanating from our breathless moans. The post-nut clarity doing its job as guilt floods my system. I lay there, looking up at Emma, who was barely keeping herself together. Before we had any chance of exchanging words, we were quickly interrupted by the sound of the front door unlocking.

"Em... Oliver... Have you guys seen a black purse around here?"

After hearing Jason's voice at the doorway, we quickly scrambled around to pick up our belongings. It would spell nothing but a disaster if he saw us in such a position. Neither of us would be able to show our face on campus. One quick glance at Emma, and she was on board. Still shaken from all the grinding. Barely able to stand, I picked her up and made a beeline for one of the empty rooms. Shutting ourselves in to avoid any scandal. Jason, who was supposed to be gone for the rest of the night, made his way around the hotel room in search of us. Stopping in front of the exact room we hid in. The knob of the door turning to no success. Panicking. We found ourselves arguing once again. A few hand gestures and angry expressions later, we determined all we could really do was lie.

"J-jason? W-what's up? I thought you left..."

"Oh, there you are... Well... One of those idiots left their apartment key in their purse, and... I can't really leave them outside, can I? Where's Oliver?"

"O-oliver? Uhm... Heeee... went out for a bit... We got into another fight, and he didn't wanna deal with me right now..."

"Hahaha... I am not surprised... Sooo, who won?"

"U-uhm... Me, of course! Hahahaha... You know, Oliver... All talk... No bite... The poor thing...."

"Well shit... Is that right? The others are going to love this... Well, you have fun bossing him around... He's mad now but he always keeps his word... Don't be too mean to him..."

"Y-yeah..."

"Before I forget... Is there like a black purse in there?"

"U-uhmm... N-nope... None that I can see... Just my stuff... Have you checked the living room?"

"Right right... Probably behind the furniture or something... Be right back..."

This bitch. I can't believe she fucking lied. And I mean sure, we were in a pretty compromising situation, but this little lie of hers got me pet duty. If I back out now, everyone's going to call me out. What was I supposed to do? Slave away for an entire week?

"Em! What the fuck was that?"

"Will you lower your fucking voice? He'll hear us... What're bitching about now?"

"What am I... Don't play dumb with me... If I didn't know any better, I think you just threw me under the bus... What the fuck do you mean YOU won?"

"Exactly what I said, duh... YOUUUU came... So you're the loser... LOSER!"

"What?!? We came at the same time, stupid!"

"Nuh uh... You? Make me? Cum? Ha! You're giving yourself too much credit... You could never make me cum-"

"Em? Did you say something?"

"Nothing! I-It's nothing! Sorry! Uhhhhh... My... my... my mom called! H-hahaha she can be kind of a worry wart... But it's fine! Were you... able to find the purse?"

"Ohhhh alright... Yeahhh no... Did you see those guys hanging around anywhere else?"

"Uhhh... They were hanging around the kitchen at one point... Maybe you might wanna check ther- Mm! Aaaa-"

"Em? You good?"

"M-mhm... I-I'm okay... Mmmph..."

"You don't sound okay..."

"I-it's nothing... R-really... M-My s-stoma... Aaa.. chs... just n-not a-agreeing with me r-right now... I'll b-be o-okay... P-promise..."

"Uhm... Okay? I'm gonna go check the kitchen real quick..."

"M-mhm... Y-you do that... Ahahah... Aaa- W-What f-f-fuck are you d-doing?"

It might've been a bit petty of me to mess with her while she was speaking to Jason. But come on, she had it coming. This haughty little princess could never admit a loss. Let alone a tie. So what else is there to do but to fuck with her. I mean "help" her. If she says I didn't make her cum, then the only right thing to do is to lend her a hand. Right? So I did just that. With her preoccupied, I stripped her of her boxers and got to work. To my surprise, she tasted almost sweet. My tongue now lapping over her exposed pussy. Slowly guiding myself over the opening, licking upwards to her clit. Sending shockwaves. Fingers hastingly coiled around my hair, doing her damnedest to yank me off. But to no avail. Her resistance only making it worse causing me to lick her with even more vigor. Emma stood there trembling, her body in shambles yet again as my tongue parted her lips. Leaving her a twitching, nonverbal mess. There a lecherous display of saliva and juices dripping down. As to not waste a single drop, I made sure to pay her thighs as much mind as to any other part of her body. Kissing along it. Still flailing, I pressed my nails deeper into her hips. The walls of her cunt squeezed down as my tongue delved deeper. Shaky breathes that were hard to conceal. The light in her eyes fading into a tempestuous haze. Her hips jerked and pulsed. A gush of heat greeting my tongue before falling to the floor.

"A-Aaa.. Aa.. A... F-f-fuckkk..."

"Hahahahah... Won't you look at that... I can make you cum... What does that make it? Two to one?"

"Livvvvv..."

Emma was ready to swing. Without as much as a second wasted, she had already tackled me to floor. Pushing down on my face and biting at what she could. Like a rabid dog, she was willing to tear limb from limb if it meant paying me back for the embarrassment. Luckily enough, Jason had heard the ruckus and called out to Emma. If it weren't for his intervention, I would have been marked more than I already was.

"Em? Is everything okay? I heard something fall..."

"O-oh y-yeah yeah! J-just dropped my duffle! Any luck on that purse?"

"Ugh... Nope... I tried looking for it on the- Hm? Sorry, give me a bit... Phone call..."

Even if she was pissed, I was surprised to see Emma switching up like that. Keeping such a such straight face even after beating the fuck outta me. But I guess she had her priorities. As I've mentioned, she’d rather drop dead than be seen straddling me. Which was funny. Like I wasn't already decorated in her bite marks.

"Are you fucking serious? Ugh yeah yeah... I'll be there in a minute...

"What was that about?"

"Those drunk idiots... were sitting on the purse the entire time... Anyway... If I leave now I'll still be able to make it home and get some rest before my shift... You going to be okay?"

"Y-yeah... Don't worry about me..."

"Alright... You take care... Oh and... Make sure to check on Oliver... God knows where he is.."

Well, don't you worry, Jason! Because behind door number 1, you'll find me directly under her!

"M-mhm... You guys drive safe..."

There she was. Staring daggers, ready to kill. With Jason out the door, there wasn't a damn thing that could stop her. But if I learned anything from today, it would be that Emma was as much of a sore loser as I was.

"Ohhhh, I'm so scared... What're you going to do? Hit me?"

"Mhm..."

"Fuck-... Hahahah... You punch like pussy... Taste like one too..."

"You're disgusting..."

"Go on, hit me... But this proves it... Youuuu can't even finish what you started..."

"Huh?"

"You heard me... It's still two to one... Whose the loser now? Lose-"

Bam! Emma, throwing another one dead center. My nose bleeding before I could even finish my sentence. With my eyes still recovering, Emma was nowhere to be seen. Not even a blurry figure had replaced her. Just the empty ceiling. In my confusion, my eyes were drawn south to an unfamiliar sensation. Finding the length of my cock was now resting against Emma's soft lips. Her shallow breaths not helping in the slightest. Perpetually hitting the back of cock. In response, an insatiable twitch had begun; begging to be engulfed. Before I could even adjust to the situation, Emma had taken me to the back of her throat. Bobbing her head relentlessly as a form of payback. A tight suction lingered, and all the while, she maintained her eye contact. Never breaking her gaze. Watching closely as I threw my head back from all the pleasure. Encouraging another vicious cycle of mouth fuckery, only ever stopping to catch her breath. Using this chance to regain myself. There I saw a mischievous smile that peeked from behind my member. Her tongue hanging freely over my tip. Drooling atop it as beads of precum leaked over, coating me. Effortlessly overwhelming me once more. This time, caressing my length with short, broad strokes. Her mouth guiding me to my climax. The tip bulging from the side of her cheek. Leaving me to let out such a distasteful groan as I finished.

"Mmmph! Eugh.... Yuck... There... Now... It's two to two... See? Whatever you can do... I can do better... So why don't you just save yourself the embarrassment and give up already?"

"Fuck off... I can do this all day..."

"Okay Captain America..."

It was nothing but a downward spiral. A constant back and forth of petty desperation. Two idiots, too stubborn to give up. Forcibly sinking their teeth wherever they damn pleased. An endless night of lust and violence. Two sides of the same coin. That flipped over and over. No method, being too much. From the bathroom floor to the dining room table. A punch here. A suck there. So much so that you couldn't quite tell if it was a hickey or a bruise. Despite what we've done, no amount of pride meant anything if it meant losing to the other. The only thing that mattered now was winning. There we sat, breathless. Another tie inhibiting our victory, reaching another pointless stalemate. Unsure of what to do, we sat there with one last option festering on our minds. Her eyes fixate on the twitching member pressing against her. Emma, shaking her head at such a ridiculous thought. And believe me, it was ridiculous. If at any point, this would probably be the best time to draw the line. Yet neither party completely objected. Just intoxicated eyes that met nervously in the middle. Anxious and waiting.

"A little late to pussy out now, don't you think? And you call yourself a man..."

"Who said anything about pussy-ing out? I just have some decency..."

"Ha... After what you've done? Don't make me laugh..."

"You're right... But do you really think I would back down and be your dog for a week? We both know we're too stubborn for that... And a little too damn prideful to back down now..."

"Exactly what I was thinking... So what're you waiting for, mutt? It's a little rude to keep a lady waiting... You just gonna sit there, or you gonna fuck me?"

Never would I have imagined that we'd end up in such a situation. It was a bit perplexing to see that feral little ankle biter waiting so patiently along my lap. The situation was tense. My confusion justified. Emma, the pompous annoying brat that I grown used to, wasn't quite there. It was as if she were a completely different person. This girl was curious. Scared even. The complete opposite of how Emma would carry herself. Watching intently as I worked myself into her. Burying my cock deep into her leaky cunt. A hint of pain briefly crossing her face. Forcing her to hide and bite down into my shoulder.

"I-if you even t-think about moving... I-I'm going to k-kill you..."

Seemingly enough, out of all the threats she's made today, I think she was serious this time. And I wasn't going to fuck around and find out. Emma remained still for the first few minutes. Taking but a moment to compose herself. Biding her time as she grew accustomed to the throbbing pain. I had imagined it would have been a bit easier, considering all the foreplay. But no. Even the slightest amount of movement rendered her incapable of keeping her voice. A shrill moan echoed throughout the room as my cock twitched in her warmth. Her pale figure clouded with shades of red, embarrassed to have let out such a sound. Frustrated, she gritted her teeth, steeling herself for the moment. Her hips rigid with motion, still finding it difficult to move. Despite the pain, she pressed forward. Gradually finding her rhythm, fucking me at a pace she deemed fit. It wasn't long before she had begun to enjoy herself. Rocking her hips without a care in the world. A slight hop as she rutted, causing her perky breasts to bounce in the process. Stimulating me even more. Having done so much throughout the night had taken toll on me. Luckily enough, her frantic little hips gave out. Stuttering at every thrust. And though, I was reaching my limit, so was she.

"H-hahah... S-slowing down, Em? Don't tell me you're gonna cum..."

"Y-you first... D-dipshit..."

It was slow. Excruciatingly slow. A full glass of water, ready to tip. One wrong move, and it'd be over. With each of us on the brink, guiding her hips was no simple task. If she were to even buck, the chances of me losing would be inevitable. I couldn't bear another second, watching Emma grind mindlessly against me. Those empty, solemn eyes that wanted nothing more than for me to cum. Seeing her intent, I did everything I could to even the playing field. Keeping her still, I pressed down, sinking her pretty little hips to the base. Squirming as she cockwarmed me. Rubbing her clit, sending shockwave after shockwave. Our brains numbing out from pleasure, forcibly edging each other into insanity. It took everything I had to stop myself. Every instinct telling me to push her down and fuck her senseless. Making her take every last dro-

"L-liv... P-Please... Mmmph... N-no more... I-I need it..."

"E-em?"

Three simple words. Casting away all morality, respect, and pride. Her hands rested neatly around my throat, bracing herself. Giving way to more freedom to move her hips. Emma was losing herself to the pleasure. With tears running down her face. Her climax drawing closer and closer. Paying no mind to my warnings nor savoring the moment. Only chasing the finish that we needed so damn much. Her pussy tightened around my cock. My cum filling her to the brim. A fire pooling deep inside. And before long, Emma had reached her peak. Collapsing atop of me, gasping for every inch of air she could find. Even with my mind abuzz, I still found the strength to caress Emma. Not that I needed to. It just felt right. Running my hands through her hair. Finding the words to say in such an awkward moment.

"Soooooo..."

"Just shut up..."

We laid there the entire night, not speaking a single word. Subtle moans that leaked out from time to time. Adjusting myself, pushing the cum deeper inside her. A few moments relapsing back to our lustful ways. Sharing but another sensual experience. Even as we cleaned, we found ourselves entangled with one another. The hotel phone ringing constantly, to our annoyance. Quickly picking it up, asking for an extension before slamming it back down. Our lips finding it's way back to one another. A day of scandal that we would never ever speak to another soul.

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

"Liv... Mind checking this?"

"You might wanna add the data table there... Oh and here's the papers you wanted..."

"Thanks..."

"Okay okay... I get it... I get it... I know it's weird... I'll ask... I'll ask... Jeez... Heyyyy you two.... Uhm... A-are you guys feeling okay?"

"Mhm..."

"Yeah? Why wouldn't we be?"

"Y-yeah... You know... It's just that the team is... worried... Maybe you guys are working too hard... Uhmm... You know what? We're just kinda surprised that you guys aren't punching each other..."

"I-I don't know... I guess we just... don't feel like it?"

"R-right..."

On the car ride home, we agreed to leave it at a tie—or, more accurately, to never speak of it again. And though our dynamic at school has changed a bit. It doesn't quite mean that all our fights have stopped. We still argue on a daily basis, going for each other's throats. But I guess we go about it in a more literal sense, this time around.

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

Save a toy, ride a gamer boy

Honey

[quinloki]

Random ass Eustass Kid one shot.

College AU I guess.

Reader just got dumped, no pronouns used. Kid calls ‘em Mouse because I love it when Kid calls the reader Mouse so you’re probably going to see that in Every Single Kid Fic I Ever Write.

SFW, comfort

Cheesy

“You alright?”

The gruff familiar voice crashes over you like rain, and you dry your tears hastily before glancing up at him. You can’t feign contact long though, and look away.

“Yeah.” You say, with a defeated huff.

There’s a pause, and it’s almost awkward. You’ve never known Kid to suffer awkwardness.

“You sure?” He prompts, sitting down beside you. There was no shaking him now, but you weren’t sure you wanted you to.

“Yeah.” You say a little more energetically. “I’ll make it.”

Kid snorts, looking around a little before he rummages in his pack and pulls out a candy bar and a soda. “Anything you want me to deal with?”

You laugh, a sharp barked sound, taking the offered snacks without arguing. You know what kind of help Kid’s good at, and it’s not diplomatic, that’s for fucking sure.

“Nah. It won’t fix it.” You admit, wiping a tear that’s pricked the side of your eye for a different reason.

“Might make ya’ feel better.” He offers, pulling out another soda and opening it for himself.

You smile, the concern is appreciated at least. “It… won’t. Is what it is, I just need to move on.”

“… it woulda made me feel better.” He grouses, and you look over to see his ears are pink.

You look away at the implication and busy yourself with the candy bar for a few long moments. It’s comfortable around him, always has been. He’s just too loud, too proud, too dangerous for you.

It wouldn’t work.

At least that had been what you told yourself when you’d turned him down, picking a different guy to date a few months ago. Kid had warned there wouldn’t be another chance, he wasn’t someone who waited around for a pretty piece of ass. It had almost been a fight between you two, the first real one you maybe ever had.

“I… thought you were gonna move on.” You murmur quietly.

The silence stretched on for long enough you figured that was the end of the conversation. Eustass Kid wasn’t going to dent his pride for someone, no matter who they were. One of the guys maybe, someone who’d been in his life for decades. You could see him pushing aside his pride for Killer or Heat or Wire, if he had no other choice.

Still, it was nice to have someone around while you shrugged off the pieces of a failed relationship. Besides, you wouldn’t risk treating Kid like some rebound.

You shift a little, trying to find the words to say farewell for now, but Kid gets up. A heavy hand ruffles your hoodie against your hair, pushing your head down as you grumble at him.

“When you’re ready to give some flaky loser another shot, Mouse, let me know first.” He says, in a voice that’s trying to sound flippant.

“You’re not a flaky loser,” you retort, scrambling to your feet. “I don’t want you to say that about-!”

Kid turns on his heel suddenly facing you, hand wrapped in your hoodie as he pulls you into a rough kiss.

The action shatters your brain, so sudden and desperate and needy you don’t know what to do but sink into him. The kiss breaks and his eyes are locked on yours, a crooked grin on his face.

“Not how I meant that, Mouse.” He hums, in a voice soft and sure and devastatingly sweet to your ears.

He lets you go, turning and walking away. “Think it over. I’m not stupid enough to let you go if you’re dumb enough to pick me.”

[bipanicoverthegravessiblings]

Not sure if you've seen it but could you please do a Graves siblings x Denji from Chainsaw Man style reader?

I’ve never seen Chainsaw Man, not an anime guy- but reading up the Wiki gave me some idea

Andrew and Ashley Graves x Denji Style!Reader

It’s been said many times your impulsivity and general unawareness would be your downfall

Mostly by old farts who think of you as nothing but street trash

It’s not your fault you never finished high school. Not your fault you never socialized properly as a child.

They can fuck off for all you care

But in this moment…you hated how right they were

Your breathing was staggered, air becoming a commodity as you felt blood fill your lungs. Your body curled up into itself, clutching your stomach. Everything hurt. It hurt to move, it hurt to breathe, it hurt to be alive.

Footsteps became distant, leaving you in this cold- trash ridden alley, the pricks taking your wallet- and dignity- with them. Not like they’d find much, you had about 20 bucks to your name. They’ll be back for more eventually.

Most kids got their father’s eyes, some their noses- not you. No. Your father oh so graciously left you with his debt to the fucking mob! Asshole thought putting a new hole in his head would get him out of it, and it did- but all that fell on to you. You swore that as your swollen ear was pressed to the concrete, you could hear the prick laughing from hell.

You were gonna die here. You knew that. At least then the debt will finally be gone, you don’t have a kid to pass it along to and you’re an only child. Maybe they’ll track down your mother?….

You groan in pain, though it’s a pitiful attempt to call for help. No one will come find you. They’ll probably think you’re just some homeless person wallowing in their misery.

You tried to open your eyes, but unfortunately they were both too swollen to accomplish that. Tears pricked the corners and fell down your cheeks- causing you to hiss in pain. It hurt too much to cry, but you couldn’t help but sob as breathing became harder and harder. Your throat swelled in pain, you couldn’t swallow down the blood filling it.

Air slowly left your body as you drifted into unconsciousness….the last thing you remember feeling was a hand on your arm.

By all accounts, you should be dead

You wish you were dead

But god is a sick fuck who kicks around their most pathetic toys for entertainment

And you’re one of his pathetic toys

You slowly came too, the feeling of trash bags no longer cushioning you- but rather an actual cushion.

It smelled of cigarettes, but it was honestly preferred over wet garbage

Your body felt sore, but significantly less bloody

In fact….you were patched up

Poorly, some bandages were loose and some were way too tight- but it was better than exposed wounds that could get infected

You attempted to lift yourself to a sitting position, but the pain was unbearable. Along with that, any motions you continued to make were interrupted by two voices,

“Oh hey- woulda look at that. A zombie.”

“Oh my god!”

You couldn’t even register what was happening before you felt someone at your side. Helping you up was a guy, around your age you estimated, with messy black hair and striking green eyes. He struggled to hold you up and grab a pillow, so he narrowed his eyes over the back of the couch.

“Give me a hand would ya!” It wasn’t so much of a question as a demand.

“God! Alright alright, hang on.”

Shuffling noises became closer, but it was all behind you and it hurt to try and turn to inspect. From what you could hear though, the voice sounded more feminine and significantly more chill about this situation than the guy.

Speaking of which, the guy carefully lowered you on to some pillows, a couple throw ones from the dingy couch and one more fit for a bed. You got a better look at the owner of the feminine voice.

She was shorter than the guy, same messy black hair- only this time tied back into a ponytail. Her eyes were a soft shade of pink. She stared at you unamused while the guy hovered over you worriedly. It made you anxious. What sucked even more was you didn’t know who these people were, and why you were here! Last you remembered you were dying in an alley! The fuck?!

“Oh shit- uhm-“ the guy bit down on his finger to think, “Fuck what do we do?”

“Beats me,” the woman shrugged, “It was your idea to bring them here.”

“THE FUCK IT WAS”

You flinched at the sudden change of tone.

He pointed a finger at the woman, who stood unphased still, “You are not putting this on me- not again! You had the bright idea of using them for—“ he paused, suddenly remembering your presence. If you weren’t so out of it you would’ve said something, but instead he grabbed the woman by her wrist and led her into the bathroom with her protesting the entire way.

Finally, with your changed seating position and privacy, you could examine where the hell you were. Taking a look around at the peeling wallpaper, stained carpet, and two dingy beds (one surprisingly made despite there being two occupants)- you deduced it was a motel. A motel with very thin walls that allowed you to vaguely pick up on the two’s hushed conversation….

“….lets just ditch them.”

“No! We can’t do that…..might go to the police.”

“Maybe not….they looked like a bum.”

“Ashley!”

“Well? Am I wrong?”

The rest was a back and forth of deciding your fate while you sat by, twiddling your thumbs….or you would if you could move your arms. At least you learned the name of one of your saviors….or captors in this case.

Moments later, the guy and Ashley exited the bathroom- standing before you, one significantly more tense than the other.

“Uhm- sooooo, hi.” The guy started.

“Hey…” your voice was still strained from pain, “Look I heard you two in the bathroom….I won’t tell the cops anything.”

“Yeah, cause you’re not leaving.”

Crickets. You couldn’t believe your ears.

“I….” You blinked, “I’m what?”

“See- here’s the thing,” Ashley strode forward, ignoring the guy’s protest, “You’ve seen our faces, and thanks to these thin ass walls you know my name at least. His is Andrew by the way—“

“Ashley!”

“What? I’m not going down alone!” She retorted before turning to you again, “So, you can’t leave.” She sounded a little disappointed.

You blinked, still processing all of this. Did you just get kidnapped?? You took in the figured of your captors, their body languages vastly different. But…in some sick way….this benefited you.

The mob thinks you’re dead. You can’t just walk free now, not in case one of their members finds you alive and reports it back to their boss. And these guys are already on the run from what it seems…

You can work with this.

Andrew Graves

The more comfortable you became to this situation- the more it was apparent you and Ashley were tiring Andrew out

He had grown used to his sister’s impulsivity, but your own was new territory to him

Also a new source of gray hairs…

Honestly, you assumed he hated you

But….despite what he says- you believed Ashley when she told you that bringing you along was his idea

Things still felt tense, just the two of you

And you’re still not entirely convinced he enjoys having you around

But that just made the moments where your brazen antics made him laugh all the more enjoyable

To an extent, Andrew was patient with you

He took care of a lot of the social and book smarts stuff, areas you lacked in

It felt nice having someone take care of it, instead of chastising you to do better

Andrew stared at you in quiet disgust, his elbow rested on the diner’s table. In your run, the three of you decided to stop at this diner to eat. The place was littered with 50’s memorabilia- neon signs, a jukebox, obnoxiously plush booths to sit in. Great if you ignore literally everything about the 50’s!

You had settled next to Andrew, sitting closest to the wall while he took then end. Ashley had seated across from you two, but she had since gone to the bathroom, leaving just you two.

Seated on the table in front of you was an array of sauces, each opened for you to dip your fries into. The concoction of sauces were a mess on your shirt, face, and hands- something Andrew visibly recoiled at.

Andrew scoffed, “Y/N-“ you looked up, “C’mere.”

Reaching over you, Andrew grabbed a napkin and dabbed at the sauce on your face- to which you squirmed at irritably. Andrew narrowed his eyes.

“Hold still!” He became a little more aggressive with his cleaning, “God- has anyone ever taught you how to clean yourself!”

You decided to fight back in the only way you could think of, and that was by throwing a sauce covered fry at Andrew. You both paused as the projectile stuck to his sweater before it pathetically peeled on and on to the floor below you two. You blinked. Andrew blinked, then grabbed a fry, and threw it back at your face.

What followed was an in booth fight of several things being thrown: sauces, food, punches- ending with Andrew getting you in a headlock.

“Say it!”

“Never!”

“Fucking say it!” Andrew tightened the headlock as you flailed about.

You wheezed, “Ah! Asshole I can’t breathe!” You tried to pry his arm away, “Fine! Uncle! Uncle!”

With that, he released you- leaving you wheezing as you scooted away. He had that smug grin on his face though, a grin of victory. You flipped him off.

“Dick.” You muttered.

Andrew grabbed a napkin and began cleaning himself off, “You started it friend, I finished it.” He turned to you, pushing his basket of untouched fries to you, “Here. Most of yours are on the floor.”

You looked at him, tentatively reaching your hand for the basket before quickly pulling it to your side- feasting on them like a rabid raccoon. Andrew no longer watched in disgust, but a strange fondness in his eyes.

Ashley Graves

Maybe part of the reason Ashley kept you around was because you went along with her ideas

They were about the same thought process you had, so why not

You two always beat Andrew in votes for how to navigate a problem

And somehow always ended up pushing through it

Maybe she just liked how obedient you were with her

She’s easy on the eyes, and who are you to argue with a pretty woman

She never chastised you for your antics or behavior, but rather rewarded it

“So good Y/N!”, ruffling your hair, squishing your face while cooing all this praise

It felt….nice

So it made you feel terrible whenever it got taken away

Ashley was easy to upset, you learned that

You’d precariously tiptoe the line, and eagerly await the affection when she recovered and liked you again

You wished you never made her upset…

The air felt thick with tension, Ashley’s back turned to you as she looked out the window. It was just the two of you in the backseat of the hitman’s van, Andrew having stopped on the side of the road for a bathroom break. You didn’t know what you did wrong- but it must’ve been something to make her upset with you.

You tentatively reached out a hand, debating whether or not to grab hers. Before you could make the decision, she pulled it away without looking. A small whine arose from the back of your throat, like a hurt dog.

You wish you were a dog sometimes.

A dumb dog who couldn’t mess things up, maybe then she’d love you again.

“Ashley…” your tongue felt heavy in your mouth.

“What?” Her voice felt like a knife stabbing at your heart.

“I’m…I’m sorry…” you lowered your hand.

Ashley’s body made the slightest movement, “For?”

You tensed. Genuinely, you didn’t know what you did, but it must’ve been something. You gulped, looking down at the floor of the car, “For….” You grimaced as you couldn’t think of anything.

Ashley sighed, turning to face you. Her pink eyes stared into your own, you shrank a little at her glare, “Genuinely- you don’t know what you did?”

You shook your head, unable to stop the tears forming in the corners of your eyes. Ashley sighed, apparently seeing you on the verge of crying was enough for her to open her arms to you. Without hesitation, you threw yourself into her arms- face burying itself into the crook of her neck as you sniffled. You felt her hand tangle itself into your hair, almost petting you.

“There there…” she shushed, “You’re forgiven.”

It felt like a weight was lifted from your shoulders as she said those words, you held on to her tighter- not wanting to let go. Not wanting to lose the one person who didn’t make you feel stupid or like a burden or annoying or- any of those things.

Ashley made you feel warm. Ashley made you feel good. Ashley is good.

And you want nothing more than to be good for her..

[strangersteddierthings]

Steve, Gareth and Chrissy are cousins AU (sad edition) [prologue] [part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Final Part]

Wayne Munson wasn't sure what to expect from Gareth's phone call, but a hole in the roof to what appears to be a reflection of his home covered in vines and extension cords with the sounds of power tools was not it. That's partially untrue; he did have an expectation. He expected to find his traumatized nephew hiding in his bedroom.

"What the fuck," he whispers to himself, staring up at the ceiling. He's seen a lot of weird shit in his time, so he takes a couple of deep breaths before he pulls his eyes away from the hole to head down the hall. Ever fiber in him knows that he's not going to find Eddie in the safety of his room, or the in the bathroom, but instead, through that hole in the ceiling.

Still. He checks just in case.

With no Eddie in sight, Wayne heaves a sigh as he stands below, staring up at the mattress on the floor of his living room, a mirror of the one he is also standing on. It's been a hot minute since he's had to climb any sort of rope but whoever made the sheet rope had the smarts to knot it, so it's not the climb that ends up being difficult. It's the shift in gravity that he wasn't expecting.

He has just enough time to turn enough so he lands on his back instead of his head. Thank God for the mattress, could have been worse, but it still winds him.

He finally gets to his feet just in time for the front door to be ripped open and some boy he doesn't recognize stands ready to throw a hatchet at him.

"Whoa!" Wayne throughs his hands up to show he's unarmed.

"Holy shit," the boy sags, arms dropping, though he's careful with lowering the hand holding the hatchet so Wayne's gotta give him a little respect. Eddie woulda just ended up slashing himself probably. Speaking of Eddie.

"Where's Eddie?"

The hatchet raises again, though the boy takes a stance less like he's going to throw it and more like he's ready to charge forward with it. "Who's asking? How you get here?"

"What's in there, Steve!?" A voice Wayne doesn't recognize calls from somewhere behind the boy.

"This is my home, boy. Or, that is," Wayne points up to the hole and watches the boy as a myriad of emotions cross his face. Wayne watches him back a few steps out the door and look up.

"Eddie! Your dad just dropped through the gate!"

"My dad!?" He hears Eddie- he hears Eddie! Wayne is out the door, crowding into the boy's space, turning to look where the boy was looking. He sees Eddie. Eddie on the roof, a tangle of cables in his hands.

The both just stare at each other for a moment before Wayne barks, "Get your ass down here, son!"

Eddie scrambles into action. The cords get dropped and Eddie vanishes from sight. Wayne hears the sound of him clambering down the side of the trailer. Wayne takes this time to step off the small porch and onto the ground, looking back and forth between the two ends of the trailer, unsure which side Eddie's going to appear from.

"Wayne!" Eddie calls from his right side, and Wayne turns just in time to catch an armful of his nephew.

Wayne sends Steve back through the gate to fetch a backpack he has hidden in a cupboard above the dryer. He was right when he'd told Steve he'd know it when he saw it. Steve's got to climb the dryer to look on the top shelf, but there's only one backpack in the whole cupboard, black, shoved against the back, and bursting at the seams.

Wayne had said it was full of emergency supplies and it looks like he wasn't joking.

He drops back into the Upside Down and finds Wayne waiting in the room. There's thumping on the roof that draws his attention.

"I'm makin' Eddie cover up the vents. He probably woulda gotten around to it 'fore I interrupted earlier, of course, but sometimes ya gotta remind him 'bout things. Thanks, son," Wayne explains and takes the backpack from Steve, turning to place it on the counter beside him and digs into it. He watches as Wayne pulls out a bunch of stuff -rope, flashlights, box of matches, and more- before shuffling out a box with a handle on it, pushing the backpack away to set the box down and flick it open.

Inside is a pistol.

"How long have you had that?" Steve asks.

"A coupla decades," Wayne answers.

"Has it always been in that cupboard?"

"Since I got custody of Eddie in '77."

Steve moves around him, climbing the dryer and opening the cupboard. The same black backpack sits shoved to the back, not stuffed nearly as full at the one he brought through the gate. Steve pulls it out and jumps off the dryer, before setting this backpack down and repeating what Wayne did, pulling out the same handled box. Then he looks up to Wayne, who looks pleased.

"Given what y'all told me, I think two's gonna be better than one. Y'know how to use that, son?"

"No," Steve shakes his head, "but Nancy does. She's got the shotgun, though. Will she need a pistol, too?"

"Dunno. Your mind wizard could pull it from her hands. Best to have a backup. Send her in here."

With a nod, Steve goes to find Nancy and then help finish boarding up the vents.

When Wayne and Nancy emerge from the trailer, they have a new plan. Robin will stay behind and help team distraction, just in case. Wayne's going to be coming with Steve and Nancy. Eddie tries to argue, but a stern look and small speech about how Wayne's not going to let any of "you children" walk into danger shuts Eddie down quick. Wayne's the only one with military training, infiltration training, so it's an obvious choice anyway.

That would have been fine and good, except before they leave, Eddie calls out. Says to make him pay. And Steve doesn't know the Munsons beyond this terrible week, but he does know what a face looks like when filled with grim determination and a willingness to die for someone else. He sees it on Eddie's face. He thinks Wayne sees the same thing he does on Eddie's face.

They make it only a couple of trailers away before Steve has to ask, "you think Eddie will do something stupid?"

"Worse," Wayne says, "I think he'll do something brave."

"I'm switching with Robin," Steve decides.

"What? Why? I thought you wanted to get back at Vecna. For Chrissy," Nancy asks. No accusingly, but curious and concerned.

"Not at the expense of someone else's life. I'm going to switch with Robin. Eddie's not going to be able to overpower me if he wants to try something brave."

Nancy and Wayne nod at him, and Steve jogs back, calling out for Robin when they're closer.

She runs to meet him, "what happened?"

"Nothing. You're going instead."

Robin scans his face, and says, "okay."

Steve gives her his Vecna-fighting equipment, and the backpack of molotov cocktails, and she heads off while Steve moves to the trailer, where Eddie and Dustin are finishing things up and both look surprised to see Steve instead of Robin.

"Steve? Why're you back?" Dustin asks.

He grins. "I've decided I'm no hero. I'd rather be the babysitter."

Lucas can't imagine how this would be playing out if Gareth wasn't here. Gareth was keeping eyes on Erica while Lucas watched Max, and shortly after Max cut off mid-sentence, Gareth had gasped, writing furiously on his notebook and rushing down the stairs as quietly as possible, closing the door behind him.

Lucas grabs the notebook to read it quickly. Someone tackled Erica. Going to investigate.

A short while later Lucas hears the sound of fighting, and even though he wants to go help, he has to wait. Max can't put the headphones on herself and he can't abandon her. He's got to trust that Gareth will figure it out.

Max starts to float, and Lucas is in the process of dragging a chair that looks like it'll support his weight to stand on and get the headphones over her ears when the door flied open and there stands Jason Carver. The sight freezes Lucas in place.

"What the fuck!?" Carver says, and it's then that Lucas sees the gun he has. Where's Erica? Where's Gareth? He didn't hear a gunshot but-

"AAH!" Gareth yells as he barrels up the stairs. Jason turns, and Lucas takes a step towards them but Gareth shouts, "MAX!" and Lucas is back on task. He climbs the chair and places the headphones on Max, pressing plays and making sure the volume is up as loud as possible before stuffing the walkman in the pocket of her hoodie.

Lucas doesn't know what happens, but he hears the gunshot and then the sound of someone crashing down the stairs. He looks quickly to see that Gareth is the one of the top of the stairs.

"Holy shit!" Lucas yelps, jumping off the chair. The noise makes Gareth turn around, startled. "Holy shit." Lucas repeats, because there is blood spreading quickly across Gareth's shirt.

"I think he shot me," Gareth says, quiet and scared, before he slumps to the floor.

Lucas doesn't know what to do, he needs to go call an ambulance but Max could still be in danger-

"Holy shit, is Jason dead!?" Erica screams from the floor below and Lucas shouts back, "Go call an ambulance, he shot Gareth!"

Erica doesn't say any more but he can hear her running away. He rushes to Gareth and rolls him over before pulling his own shirt up and off to press against the bullet hole.

Max drops, and it's a rough landing, but she's cursing about it so she's not dead. It'll be fine that she's mad at him for not catching her, especially if it means Gareth doesn't bleed to death instead.

[aurorawritestoescape]

A Villain’s Monologue

Pairing: serial killer!Joel Miller x f!reader

18+ DEAD DOVE!!! Heed the warnings!

Tw: dead dove, non-con, allusions to smut, mentions of SA, mentions of death, bondage, gagging, swearing

Word count: 650

A/n: if you’re sensitive to any of the warnings, do not read the fic! I don’t condone the actions of the character. It is all fictional!

——————————————————————————

Silly girl… You really thought you’d be the one to get me? Have some balls on you; I’ll give you that. Sneakin’ into my home like that... snoopin’ around. What were you tryin’ to find, Nancy Drew? Some kind of evidence—an earring, a set of teeth?? Haha... I’d never keep anythin’ like that. I’m not dumb! Been doing it for what now? Hmm, 7 years? Haven’t been caught. Not even suspected…

Oh! A cop came over once to ask about that girl. What was her name? Melissa, Melody? Fuck it, doesn’t matter. Real pretty, gave it to her good. She was beggin’ me to fuck her. Yeah, choke me, daddy! She’d been enjoying herself, for sure. Well… until…

And that cop...See, I’m Joel fuckin’ Miller! A single dad, thanks to that bitch! A workin’ man, always charmin’, nice. I showed all my concern! No, officer, I haven’t seen her around. Yes, of course I’ll join the search party. Damn it was fun being the only one to know we’d never find her in those woods.

And you, baby. Ugh! How long have you been suspecting me? Sorry, forgot you’re gagged. I bet it’s since that night. Did you hear her scream? Right? Nod if I’m right, slut?! Yeah, that bitch was loud. It’s a pity you couldn’t just forget about it. Look the other way. Began stalking me, got so fuckin’ close! I’m the one who stalks, sweetheart.

Remember that night when I caught you in the alley behind the bar. Were you followin’ me and that chick? Did you think I was gonna…? Nah, she had similar hair to Her, but… somethin’ was off. Lost interest. But you! Fuck, you were hot. Scared shitless. Did you think I was gonna kill you? Strangle, like all of them? No. You look nothing like her. You were safe. Well…woulda been safe if you hadn’t begun your sleuthin’.

A pity, really. Been such a good playthin' for daddy. That first time. Your heart was beatin’ so fast, like a little bird’s, flutterin’ under my fingers. Felt it when I was gropin’ your tits. Hell, I love ‘em. Look at you! Tied up and helpless. Want me to play with your tits? If I just slide my dick between them like this, shhh! Sit still! I’m sure I could come just fuckin' your boobs, sweetheart. My cum on your beautiful face. Here. I’ll make you eat it all up, every drop. Shhh, stop flinchin’! Don’t be shy on me all of a sudden.

You’re such a slut. Came all over my cock in that dark alley. Your neighbour, your dad’s friend, made you moan like a filthy whore. Still can see my cock slidin’ in and out of your tight cunt. Ah, the sounds! Fuck, you were so wet. You bitches are always so wet for me.

But you just had to go and ruin all of it. Have you been snoopin’ around for a long time? Since you started comin’ here, so I’d fuck you? Began noticing it. You’d ask hella weird questions. What do you have in the basement, Joel? Where do you go after work, Joel? Haha. Cute. I thought, "Well, even if you suspect somethin’. You have nothin’ on me.” Just your pretty mouth on my dick. Haha… You give a mean blowie baby. Pity really.

Today you really pissed me off. Breakin’ in like that? What if Sarah were here?! You’d scare her to death! I should’ve dealt with you the moment I found you in my bedroom. Well… maybe it’s for the best… Should daddy play with you one last time? Your last time… yeah, I’ll bend you over that table, ruin your little hole. And don’t worry, I’ll make sure you come and soak my dick real good. Gagged, tied up—just how I like you, sluts. Promise you, you’ll enjoy your last minutes.

Thank you for reading!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated!

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 7,145 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female!Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: S10/S11, The Reapers Warnings: language, sexuality, nothing else really in this one but get ready for the next one haha A/N: All gifs made by me. :) This is Part 8 of a series! Find all the parts on my pinned post, the Master List! Summary: Alexandria tries to figure out how to survive. Daryl and Y/N explore their closeness and keep filling in the gaps of their lives. Daryl and DJ bond some more.

Previous Chapter - Part 7

“Except for losin’ you, it was the lowest I’ve ever been, I think… Every fuckin’ day I thought ‘bout givin’ up. Woulda been easier to,” Daryl drawled softly. You were tucked in against him with his arm around you, your hand resting on his bare chest, head on his shoulder, looking up through your lashes at him. His fingers were trailing over the bare skin on your shoulder and your upper arm. “When I was in there,” he paused, wondering if he should even tell you this, “I—I was hallucinatin’ at one point. I dunno if it was the lack of sleep, or dehydration, or hunger but—” He gulped. “I saw ya in there. In the cell with me—crystal clear as if I could reach out and touch you.”

You leaned up on your elbow, your eyes wide and sad and striking. “Daryl…” There were tears in them.

“I just remember askin’ ya where ya were… Screamin’ it. I just wanted to know where ya were…” he trailed off. A shadow fell over his face for a moment, before he grabbed your hand that was resting on his chest and held it gently in his, his thumb moving over the back of it. This grounded him in this moment instead of in the torture he was reliving as he told you. You were still looking at him sorrowfully. You could hardly believe what he’d been through. They’d fed him fucking dog food. He’d been beaten and starved… humiliated. You felt sick. You saw the muscle in his jaw tense as he clenched his teeth together. He finally looked over and caught your eyes again. “You’re the reason I didn’t give up. I just—I still believed ya were alive and out there… somewhere.”

You sighed, pain aching in your chest, that canyon created by your worry and sadness wedged between your eyebrows. You’d spent the last couple hours going through so much of it, just talking, but you knew there was far more. The thick scar on his leg, the “X” that looked like a brand burned into his back... more. A lot more. And that was just him. You hadn’t even talked about any of your darkest moments. You figured he’d read about them soon enough in your journal. “The next time I see Negan, I’m gonna punch him in the face.”

Daryl actually chuckled. “I’d like to see that actually. But if he talks to ya again, I’ll probably beat ya to it. He ain’t the same as he was but…” He shook his head.

You leaned up and kissed him, brushing away his hair from his forehead. You placed another kiss near his jaw.

You’d been surprised when you woke up that Daryl was still asleep with you in his arms. He was usually the earliest riser. You’d been unable to resist placing a gentle kiss on his jawline then too, and he had stirred immediately, blinking open his bright blue eyes and tightening his arm around you. “Part of me thought this was all gonna be a dream I’d wake up from today,” he’d said, his fingertips dimpling into your softness.

You’d shaken your head, giving him a sleepy smile, your fingers splaying out on his chest. “Nope,” you’d said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You ran your fingers through his wavy brown hair and he leaned into the touch of your fingertips. You chewed your bottom lip nervously for a moment before speaking what was on your mind. “Daryl?”

“Mmm,” he hummed, hardly moving, and certainly not opening his eyes. He was that comfortable with you tucked in against, stroking his hair. It was like a dream.

“Did you ever—” you broke off, and Daryl sensed perhaps some stress in your voice, because now he did open his eyes and looked right at you. You bit your bottom lip nervously. “Did you ever tell her about me?”

“Leah?” he asked, though it wasn’t necessary. Daryl gulped and felt an unpleasant tightness in his chest, as if someone was tightening a belt around his diaphragm or pushing a weight down onto his lungs. He avoided your eyes as if he still felt guilty over this other relationship despite the fact that you’d tried to relieve him of any such notion. He nodded. “I did. But I also didn’t…”

You leaned up on your elbow. Curiosity tugged at your brow. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I had the tattoo already. She asked me about it. I told her that I’d lost you. She knew—I mean, she could tell that it was—that you were—” He struggled to find the right words. He finally gave up and just cleared his throat. “But I never told her anythin’ else. I dunno why really…” His hand drifted up to your bare shoulder and his index finger drew absent circles on it. “It just felt—sacred.”

Your heart ached at his words and you leaned up and kissed him softly, the pillow of your lips against his as light as a breeze. You felt his blue eyes on you and now he was the one who looked at you with a questioning glance. “Hmm?” you prompted him, sliding your fingers down another wavy strand of his brown hair. It was soft and shiny from your shower together the night before.

“What’re we gonna do about the kids?” he asked. “I mean—‘bout DJ mostly? Are we gonna tell him that we—uhh… are we—?”

This almost made you laugh. “Together?” you finished for him. He nodded. “What do you want?”

His eyes flickered over your face for a moment. The early morning light had the halo of fly-aways around your face glowing. “I dun ever want this to end,” he said softly.

You smiled at him, small at first and then growing and blooming like petals opening in the daylight. You were staggering—how much light you still contained. “Me neither,” you agreed. “But about DJ—mmm,” you nodded thoughtfully, leaning against his broad chest. “I think we need to take it slow. It’s been a lot lately—losing our home, finding Maggie, finding his dad, all these new people, a new community… I want the two of you to build a bond naturally, you know? Day by day.”

Daryl nodded in agreement. “Me too. Alrigh’. But, uhh—I’mma have a hard time keepin’ my hands off ya, too,” he drawled. You grinned at him.

“Same.”

He suddenly swept you over so you were caged beneath him again. You let out a surprised laugh and draped your arms around his neck. He was just kissing along your collarbone when you both heard a distinctive bark outside and then a knock on the front door.

“Ah, shit,” Daryl murmured, pulling back and hanging his head. “S’Maggie and the kids.” He hastily climbed out of bed and tugged on his pants. You slipped out from under the sheets and he tossed your clothes to you, before grabbing his own shirt and pulling it on.

Another loud knock. “Daryl?” Maggie’s voice came through the front door.

“Comin’!” Daryl called out. You started to make a dash for the room you’d been sharing with DJ but Daryl caught you around the waist in the doorway and pulled you in for one last deep kiss. You smiled up at him, a little lightheaded almost, before darting down the hall.

Daryl unlocked and tugged open the door. Maggie was there with RJ, Jude, DJ, and Hershel, giving him a curious look. “Everythin’ okay?” she asked.

Daryl nodded, avoiding her eyes, feeling his face and chest flush involuntarily. He wondered if she could sense that something had happened between the two of you. Was that the real reason why’d she’d suggested he patch you up and the kids stay put last night? To give the two of you some more time alone? Hmm. If she had been that devious or clear-sighted, he ought to fucking thank her. “Yeah. Good. All good,” Daryl drawled, scruffing a hand through his hair.

Maggie nodded. “How’s Y/N doin’?”

“Uhh—oh. Yeah, she’s fine. Got her all—all fixed up last night.” And then some. “Gash on her arm didn’t need stitches. Should heal fine,” Daryl nodded. “We were just gettin’ ready to head up to the meetin’ house,” he said, avoiding Maggie’s eyes again, still afraid she’d be able to see what had happened somehow. Dog barked happily and came bursting into the house, pushing past Daryl followed by a stampede of the kids. He managed to give DJ’s shoulder a fond squeeze as he ran by and he looked up from beneath his wavy hair and smiled. “Hey! Where’s my hug?” he called after the others. Jude and RJ circled back and Daryl knelt down to grab them into his arms. “Missed you,” he said, smiling at them.

“Missed you!” they both said back, smiles on their faces and light in their brown eyes. It warmed Daryl through and through.

“Alrigh’, go on in and play,” Daryl drawled, ruffling RJ’s hair.

“Is Aunt Y/N still here?” Jude asked, her brown eyes big and bright.

“Mhm, she’s right inside,” Daryl said, pointing toward the hallway. DJ was already headed straight toward you. You met him halfway, now in a fresh change of clothes.

“Mom!” he called, hurrying to accept the hug you were offering with a broad smile on your face.

You squeezed him tight and breathed in his smell. “Oh, I missed you. How are you? Alright?” He nodded, and then noticed the bandage on your arm. “Oh—it’s just a little cut. Nothing to worry about,” you said, catching his expression. “Sleep okay? Have fun?” He nodded.

Judith and RJ came bounding up behind DJ grinning. “Are you alright?” Judith asked, eyeing the bandage now too.

“Completely fine,” you reassured her. “Daryl fixed it up for me as good as new.” She seemed satisfied with that answer.

“How did the supply run go? Did you find some food for everyone?” she asked.

You cocked an eyebrow at her. “We did. And we all came back safe and sound, so I’d say that’s a good trip, yeah?”

“How much food did you find?” Judith still seemed worried.

You gave her a long look and then reached for her hand with both of yours and smoothed it between them. “Are you worrying about that?” you asked her gently, a rhetorical question. You could see it in her eyes. “We found enough for now. And we’ll go find more.”

She glanced over at RJ, who had run off to play with Dog in the living room. DJ had gone into the spare room to change into some clean clothes. “But that means you and Uncle Daryl will have to leave again. And Aunt Maggie and probably more. And we just got you and Aunt Maggie back.”

Your heart was breaking in your chest. You nodded again. “Yeah, I know. And we wish we didn’t have to leave so much. But once we get this place up and running again, things will be better. You’ll see.”

Judith ducked her head a little, adjusting the sheriff’s hat that had been Carl’s and her dad’s before that. “Everyone leaves… and what if no one ever comes back?”

“Oh, Judith.” You opened your arms for a hug and she leaned right in and you squeezed her extra tight. “I’m so sorry about your mom and dad. I miss them too. I was hoping to find them here with all of you.” You pulled back just enough to look into her sad brown eyes. “But me finding all of you after all this time should tell you that they aren’t gone forever. And I just know they are doing everything they can to get back here to you and your brother. It’s okay to be sad about it, or mad, or lost, or sometimes to feel nothing at all. But I know you’ve got so many people here who love you and would do absolutely anything for you and RJ. Including me.”

Judith managed a small smile for you and you were relieved to see how it brightened her face.

Daryl appeared at the end of the hall, and you didn’t know he’d seen and heard the whole exchange you’d just had with Judith. His chest was aching, but at the same time he felt filled with a wholesome warmth that had been previously rare in this life, but was becoming commonplace now since having found you again. “Ya ready?” he drawled.

“Yeah,” you said standing up. “Let me just say bye to DJ fast. You’ll all be okay here for a bit?” you asked Jude, and she nodded. You went down the hall and knocked on the bedroom door. “DJ? I’m heading out for a bit, just up the street, okay?” The door opened and there he was, his hair a little wild with static since he’d just pulled a different shirt on.

“Are you gonna tell me about the supply run? About what happened to your arm?” he asked, his expression quite serious.

You nodded slowly. “Sure. If you really want.” He nodded again. “Okay. It’ll have to wait until after I get back though, alright? Gimme another hug.” He obliged and you kissed the top of his head before he flitted off to rejoin everyone out in the living room.

Soon, you and Daryl were accompanying Maggie up the street to the meeting house. Hershel had stayed back at Daryl’s. Judith’s worry and DJ’s grim question were on your mind. “When did they turn into such—little people, you know?” you asked, glancing over at Daryl. “Worrying about this place, worrying about us just like we worry about them,” you said.

Maggie nodded her agreement. “I don’t know. But I guess it means we’ve taught them right,” she drawled in her sweet southern accent. “Though I know we all wish they didn’t have to worry about anything.”

The core of Alexandria’s leadership was already gathered inside the meeting house when the three of you arrived. The mood was tense as Gabriel explained that all the MREs you’d managed to procure from the military base would only last one week. Considering the close call it had been, it was like a slap in the face.

You swore under your breath and leaned forward on your hands on the table in front of you. Daryl shifted beside you, his arms crossed over his broad chest, and his posture stiff. He wished more than anything that he could just reach for you, rest his hand on the small of your back, but this was all too new, too precious still for him to do that so blatantly in front of everyone. “That’s it? A week?” he drawled, disappointment and anxiety increasing the gruff quality to his deep voice.

Gabriel nodded.

“We can make it work,” Aaron said, though you noted that he looked thoroughly worried too.

Carol voiced her skepticism, and you had to agree with her. You straightened up and shook your head. “We don’t have time for the usual solutions,” you said. “We need a windfall of food and we need it now. We need it yesterday.” You locked eyes with Maggie and Daryl caught onto it immediately.

“What?”

“I know where we can find food, and a lot of it. The place we lived before this. Meridian. It’s got plenty of food, water, crops, and animals. Backstock. All of it.”

“Yeah, and now it’s gone,” Elijah said.

You shook your head, your gaze still fixed down toward the rough wood table in front of you. “It’s not gone. Not exactly. At least, not in the same way that my home, Fox Hollow, is.”

The trauma behind your words hit Daryl as if he was permeating the air around you, like it was bleeding out from you. He tried to study your expression more closely but it was difficult to read your profile.

Maggie sighed heavily. There was a tense moment before Rosita asked the question on everyone’s minds.

“So, what happened out there?”

Your eyes shut for a long moment and then you murmured a quiet “excuse me,” and headed for the door to step outside into the open air for a moment. Carol straightened up as if to go after you and Daryl did the same, on his feet first, but Maggie stopped them. “It’s alright. She just needs a second. She’ll be alright.” Maggie had, of course, already heard you recount the fall of your home several times. But that didn’t mean it got any easier.

And then came the story of how Meridian had fallen to The Reapers. Its people—slaughtered.

“What exactly happened to Y/N’s community, Fox Hollow she called it?” Carol asked. “She made it sound—worse somehow, though I’m not sure how that’s possible.”

You were coming back in as Carol asked it. You seemed steady again and Daryl gave you a glance as if to ask if you were okay. You nodded and resumed your place next to him, standing at the table again. “My people weren’t caught off-guard in quite the same way Maggie’s were. We had scouts who had seen some sign of these Reapers in the days before they showed up, not that we knew exactly who or what they were after... In fact, one of our scouts had gone missing. We were ready for something, but we didn’t know exactly what was coming. We’d doubled the watch and taken more precautions. Stocked ammunition at the guard posts and the walls. They came. My people fought.” Your eyes shut for a moment again as you steeled yourself against the images wanting to surge forward in your mind’s eye. “Those people—they burned everything to the ground, destroyed the walls to get inside, killed everyone, and took what we had. But they couldn’t stay there. There was nothing left to live in by the time it was over. I don’t think that was their original plan. They didn’t expect a fight. So, instead, they took all the supplies and looked for a new place to take.” “Meridian,” Maggie said, nodding. “Though we’re not sure exactly how much time there was between the two.”

“How’d you survive?” Aaron asked you, amazement on his face mixed with deep empathy.

A far-off look grew in your eyes and they were blurred with tears you had to blink away. “Luck. DJ and I had been out on a hunting trip, pretty far away. It had been his choice to go. Otherwise, we’d probably be dead too. We came back and—Fox Hollow was gone. Everything was gone.” Your voice sounded haunted. There was no other word for it.

“They’re at Meridian now. We just need to take it back,” Maggie said. The faces around the room were grim.

Rosita shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “Maggie, this sounds like a suicide mission.”

You were leaned back against one of the pillars now, your jaw set. “Anyone have a better idea?” The silence was deafening. “We aren’t asking anyone to go who doesn’t want to. Aaron’s right too, Alexandria does need people here to help it hang on until we can get back. But this plan is the way we make it until we can rebuild. It’s the way we make it past next week.” You stood up with your feet firmly planted. “So, I’m in.”

Daryl was on his feet next. “Me too. Anybody else?” There were more than you expected. Only Carol, Rosita, and Aaron wanted to stay behind. And you couldn’t blame them.

After the meeting disbanded, you walked back to Daryl’s. He stayed close beside you and you could feel that something had shifted and a weight was on his shoulders again that hadn’t been there since you’d kissed him the night before. Maggie and Carol walked alongside you both. You discussed preparations for leaving. Carol said she’d look after the kids while you were away, and for that you were grateful. You knew she’d protect them with her life if it came to it.

Daryl looked particularly grim after Maggie and Carol had departed and the two of you were alone again in the kitchen of his little townhouse. That weight you’d noticed was practically dragging him toward the floor now. The two of you were standing in the kitchen alone. The kids had taken Dog outside for some exercise, giving the two of you a few moments to talk. Daryl was leaned back against the counter with his blue eyes fixed on you across the small space.

“I can see you thinking it,” you said.

“Hmm?” he hummed.

“You want to tell me to stay here, just like you did with the supply run to the base.”

Daryl ducked his head and gulped at the tightness in his throat. Of course he wanted you to stay here. He knew for a fact that with this mission they were heading straight back into a potential shitstorm of danger and death. He’d seen how these people operated in the woods that day when you’d found each other again. “I just keep thinkin’ that if somethin’ goes wrong, which seems goddamn likely, the kids could lose a lot of us. DJ could lose both of us.” The uneasiness on his face was plain. It was bordering on fear.

You sighed and he watched your lips tighten into a thin line for a brief moment. “If something goes wrong, in all likelihood most of our people back here are gonna starve. Including our kids, our son.” Daryl felt a jolt like electricity at those words. Our son. “I’m not staying behind. I’m going along to do every damn thing I can to make sure that doesn’t happen. You can’t ask me to sit on the sidelines of this one.” You crossed the kitchen to him and your hands landed on his sides lightly. “And the last thing I want right now is to be separated from you.” Your eyes searched his face. “After everything we’ve been through, I’m not doing that by choice, not for something like this. We do this together. I don’t want to lose you again.”

Daryl felt a burst of heat in the center of his chest that slowly crept upwards toward his face. “I dun want that either. I just got ya back. But—” he chewed on his bottom lip for a moment. “—I want ya safe too. Or at least safer. And these assholes—sounds like they kill first and ask questions later.”

You nodded gravely, but your expression was strong and determined. “They do. That’s why I’m going.”

Daryl sighed. You were resolved. He nodded. “Alright. If tha’s the way it is, tha’s the way it is.”

You clasped his face with one hand, your thumb moving lightly over his jawline, and one corner of your mouth twitched up slightly. The effect was a sad sort of smile. “It’s gonna be okay.” It came out in a whisper.

Daryl gulped and you felt his hand alight on your hip. The other landed gently on the graceful curve of your neck. His eyes flitted over your face for a moment and then he leaned in and found his lips softly with yours. You could somehow feel his anxiety and his yearning in that kiss… You gave way beneath him softly, melting under his touch, and Daryl only wanted to keep you safe all the more desperately. The thought of this disappearing from him after having just found it again was almost unbearable, almost paralyzing.

You pulled back and just then there was a stampede of feet in through the front door, accompanied by the tapping of Dog’s paws. You smiled at him now, and it warmed him, lessened the sick feeling that had remained in the pit of his stomach despite your reassurances that everything would be fine.

Daryl straightened up as RJ burst in through the kitchen doorway and ran to hug Daryl around the middle. You grinned at the scene and Daryl committed that to memory—you in that little kitchen of his, grinning. DJ came in next and gave you and Daryl a smile that reminded you of Daryl’s; no teeth showing, but that curve of the corners of his mouth.

“Well, I gotta go check out that truck Aaron mentioned. We can at least take a vehicle part of the way,” he drawled. You nodded.

“Alright. I’ll make myself useful around here,” you said.

“Can I come?” DJ asked, directing the question at Daryl.

“Ya wanna? Would be good to have some help. Ya know yer way ‘round a tool box or an engine?” he drawled, a small smile on his face at DJ’s desire to spend time with him again.

DJ shrugged. “Not really. But I’m a fast learner. Can I, Mom?” he asked, glancing at you eagerly.

You nodded. “Yeah. Of course,” you said, smiling. You kissed the top of his head. “Just stick with Daryl, okay?” DJ nodded.

The two of them set out down the sidewalk, side by side, and you watched them from the window until they disappeared around the corner. Jude and RJ were coloring in the living room with Dog lying beside them on the floor. You meandered down to the spare room and picked through you and DJ’s meager belongings. You really needed to track down some more clothes for the two of you.

“I’m gonna pop next door to see Carol, okay?” you said to Judith and RJ. “You guys good to hang here for a bit?” Judith nodded. “Okay. Don’t go off anywhere without telling someone, alright?” She nodded again and then went back to her drawing.

Just a block or so away, Daryl and DJ arrived at Aaron’s where the truck in question was sitting half in the garage. “Alrigh’,” Daryl drawled, walking around and opening the driver’s side door to pop the hood latch. There was a metallic clunk noise and he returned to stand in front of the grill beside DJ. “Well, open it up,” Daryl said, a half-smile on his face. Daylight’s burnin.”

DJ gripped the hood and lifted, but it caught on the latch still, as Daryl knew it would. His tongue poked out the corner of his mouth as he tried again to the same effect. “There’s still a latch hooked,” Daryl explained, feeling with his fingers under the edge and finding the flat metal piece. “Right here. Ya gotta push it to the side and then lift. Feel it?”

DJ felt for the latch, followed Daryl’s instructions, and the hood rose up and stayed propped open. Daryl pulled over a 5 gallon bucket and DJ stepped onto it so he could better look into the engine compartment. “Yer mom never taught ya ‘bout hood latches? About engines?”

DJ shook his head. “We haven’t used cars or trucks much,” he explained. “Seems like we walk everywhere. Or—” he broke off suddenly, looking sad.

“Hmm?” Daryl asked, leaning on one elbow on the edge of the engine compartment.

“Well, we—we had horses… for a while. At home,” he explained.

“Mmm,” Daryl hummed. “‘M sorry. We used to have some here. They’re gone now too.” DJ nodded. “Yer mom never was great with mechanical stuff anyway,” Daryl went on, a fond smile on his face. “I taught her enough to get by when I could but—I don’t think she liked it much,” he said with a laugh. “But somebody should teach ya. I’ve got an important job for ya,” he said, changing the subject. “Hold this flashlight for me so I can see in this damn thing.” Daryl clicked on a sturdy silver flashlight and handed it to DJ. “Point it right here. See this? This is where the oil dipstick is. That’s how we check the oil level. Too much or not enough oil can be big trouble,” Daryl explained, pulling the dipstick free, wiping it on a spare rag, and replacing and withdrawing it again. “All good,” he said, leaning over to show DJ. “See right there? Level’s gotta be between those lines.”

This is how the two of them went along, side by side, for quite a while. Daryl explained everything as he worked and had DJ actually replace a bad hose with him. They checked the tire pressure and tread, the radiator, heater, bypass hoses, the belts… And all the while they talked comfortably a lot of things—about fishing and hunting, about holidays, about things DJ and you had seen and done, about Daryl living in the woods, about Rick and Michonne and others who were gone one way or another. There was a comfortable lull for a while as Daryl spliced together some wiring to fix what looked like mouse damage. Then DJ broke it again.

“What should I call you?” he asked suddenly.

Daryl looked over at him and then withdrew his hands from his work, facing DJ and leaning one arm on the edge of the engine compartment again. He sighed and nervously chewed on his bottom lip, considering the pensive look on his son’s face. He scruffed a hand back through his hair. “Well—‘m yer father. Ain’t nothin’ gonna change that. But—‘dad’ is somethin’ else. Tha’s somethin’ tha’s earned. Ya can call me Daryl if ya want, and if someday ‘Dad’ seems right to ya, if I earn it, well…” he nodded, “then alright. But tha’s all up to you about if and when.”

DJ seemed contemplative still about Daryl’s answer and only nodded, before resuming his role as Daryl’s assistant.

It was moving toward evening when there were footsteps around the side of the truck and you appeared with a sparkling light in your eyes and a happy smile on your lips at the two of them side by side with dirty hands. “Am I interrupting?” you asked.

“Nah,” Daryl said, wiping his hands on a rag. “Just finished up actually. Couldn’ta done it without DJ. Got a future mechanic here, I think,” Daryl said, taking the flashlight back from him.

“Oh, good to know,” you said, watching your son leap happily down from his perch on the bucket. “That’s certainly something I always need help with,” you laughed. You brushed DJ’s hair back from his face fondly. “Wait outside for me for a sec, bud?” DJ nodded and stepped around the truck to stand on the driveway.

“Ya alrigh’?” Daryl drawled, still wiping the dirt and grease from his hands.

You nodded. “Yeah. Carol helped me track down some more clothes for me and DJ. We hardly have anything after being on the road again.” Daryl nodded. “Anyway, I’m gonna take DJ for a quick walk before it gets dark, talk to him about the run and what’s coming next. See you back at the house in a bit?” Daryl nodded, his eyes drinking in the sight of you. He still worried sometimes that you were a mirage.

“Yeah,” he drawled. His voice was soft and sweet, like warm maple syrup. “See ya in a few.” Walking the perimeter of Alexandria beside DJ, you were battling your own nerves. Leaving him again so soon was going to be hard, especially with such a dangerous and grim task ahead. He peppered you with questions about the supply run to the base, about the swarm of the dead soldiers, about why you didn’t get the guns and ammo too, “could we get a tank?!”, about how your arm got hurt, about Daryl and his crossbow and his two knives that helped keep you and Carol alive… and still he was bursting with more questions. You answered them all patiently. He seemed to have run out finally and you walked silently beside each other for a few minutes, your arm draped around his shoulders. until he was looking up at you. You smiled down at him and brushed aside the curtain of his long wavy hair that was hanging in his eyes. Just like his dad, you thought tenderly.

“You’re leaving again,” he said seriously.

You drew in a long, deep breath slowly, held it, and then let it out. Your eyes were fixed toward the gap in the wall. It was shrinking slowly with the repair efforts, but not fast enough. The outside world was visible, peeking through, and if you all weren’t careful it would start to leak in. You nodded in response to DJ’s question. “Yes.”

“It’s to go after them?” he asked.

You looked down at him and met his worried eyes. “Not exactly. It’s more about food and supplies than it is about them,” you explained.

“But you’re going to kill them. Right? They killed almost all of us. And then they hurt Aunt Maggie and her family.” You thought you could hear a tremble of anger in his voice and your brow furrowed. You bent down in front of him, your hands on his shoulders.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen. It’s likely that you’re right, that it will come to killing. But you need to remember that isn’t always the way things need to go. It’s not always the way things should go. But we do what we need to, to survive.”

He nodded and you brushed the back of your fingers over his cheek and gave him a fond look before straightening up.

You walked for another minute before DJ spoke up again. “Is Dad going?” he asked.

You snapped over to look at him so fast you thought you might have tweaked something in your neck. You felt tears in your eyes and a lump in your throat. That was the first time he’d referred to Daryl as just “Dad.” You tried to pull it together and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, he’s going with.”

DJ nodded and looked thoughtful. “It’ll be okay then,” he said. “I don’t think he’d ever let anything happen to you.”

That was too much for you to handle and a few tears escaped out onto your cheeks as you grabbed DJ in a tight hug and kissed the top of his head as you straightened back up, hurriedly swiping the tearstains from your cheeks. “Yeah. It’s gonna be fine,” you agreed. “Love you.”

DJ looked up at you again. “Love you too, Mom.”

That night, you and Daryl settled all the kids down together in the spare room and then collapsed back on the couch, finally alone again. Daryl’s blue eyes were studying the shape of you next to him. You leaned back more heavily into the cushions and sighed, finally meeting his gaze. “Do you think they bought it?” you asked, leaned up on your elbow on the back of the couch, your chin propped on the heel of your palm.

“What, that I’m sleepin’ on the couch?” he laughed. He paused for a moment. “Prob’ly. ‘Cept Jude. That girl sees every damn thing.” You laughed softly but then your mind turned to the next day’s journey.

“Are we insane? For trying this?” you asked him.

Daryl nodded. “Prob’ly.” There was extra grit and gravel in his voice now. “But ain’t no way ‘round it.”

You rubbed at your tired eyes. “Yeah… I just wish there was a way to know that we’re doing the right thing beforewe do it.” You laughed wryly. “Isn’t that the truth about all of life?” You glanced over at Daryl beside you.

“Some things it’s easy to know are right,” he drawled quietly, even a little shyly again, ducking your gaze for a moment. You had the distinct impression he was talking about you. “Hey—” Daryl’s hand found you gently and his fingers laced in between yours. He tilted his head toward his bedroom. “C’mon. Let’s steal a little time for ourselves.”

A smile came back to your lips. You nodded. “Please. That sounds perfect.”

You fell into bed together again, pulling away the layers of the day’s clothes until both of you were just skin. Your worries drifted to the floor with the folds of cotton and denim for a time. Daryl seemed softer than the night before when the two of you had collided, but it was no less intense or fiery. Instead, it burned slowly but heated you to your core in an instant. The roughness of his palms over your skin as he ran them from the flare of your rib cage down the indent of your waist and then to the prominence of your hip was intoxicating. You were biting down on your lip to stop yourself from waking the entire house as he kissed nearly every part of you. Your heart pounded as the muscles in his back, taught and strong, rippled and tensed under your fingertips. His name escaping you in that breathy gasp had him nearly over the edge in an instant and when the two of you finally hit your peak together it was pure, extended bliss which didn’t lessen when you collapsed down beside each other, spent and bleary with happiness and afterglow and waiting sleep.

Daryl had tossed one of his t-shirts to you when your flushed and overheated skin cooled and left you chilled and you tugged it on and settled down against him, his arm tightening around you securely. You looked into one another’s eyes, still smiling coyly occasionally, eyes heavy with impending sleep. Daryl bent toward you and kissed your forehead and another wave of happiness and pure contentment that had been entirely absent for a decade crashed over you again.

He chewed on his bottom lip nervously. “I meant what I said yesterday, ya know.”

“Hmm?”

“I never stopped lovin’ you. And I never stopped lookin’.” He still sounded vaguely like he was trying to convince you. You looked into his bright blue eyes again and nodded, pressing a hand to the center of his strong chest, knowing that your initials were there in black and white, in ink, beneath your fingers.

“I know. I love you too,” you whispered back, and then you tucked in against him and closed your eyes and sleep took both of you gently and quickly.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Your breath rose in a cloud as you stepped down off the last step into the subway terminal. It was eerily quiet compared to the thunder of the storm overhead. The hair on the back of your neck stood on end as you moved farther inside. Daryl was beside you and you exchanged a glance with him. He could read the unease on your face. Before long, Negan was speaking what you were feeling.

“Not to sound like a broken record, but I think we ought to take a breath, hunker down, wait for the storm to pass,” he said. His tall frame was stiff and rigid.

“Ain’t what I asked,” Daryl drawled. “I asked which way. Tha’s the only damn reason yer here. So which way is it?”

Maggie chewed him out next when he didn’t answer fast enough. “You don’t wanna go in there?” she asked, referring to the gaping darkness ahead in the tunnel.

“No. I don’t,” Negan admitted.

“I don’t give a shit,” she snapped at him. “Which way?”

This time he answered, and the group started to move off. Daryl whistled to Dog and glanced over at you, some concern growing on his face at your expression. “You good?”

You stared again at the long, dark tunnel ahead. You let out a wry laugh. “Not to sound like an 80’s cop movie but—I’ve got a bad feeling about this. Maybe Negan’s right.”

He was standing close enough to hear that. “God Bless America,” he chuckled to himself. “Somebody else with a fuckin’ lick of sense. Daryl—you can’t ignore that,” he insisted, “considering the source. You and I both know you’ll put plenty of weight on that opinion. Me not wanting to go in there? It ain’t ‘cuz I’m a chicken. It’s because if we go in there and bad shit goes down—walkers, tunnel collapse, flooding—we are up shit’s creek without a paddle. This is a genuinely bad idea,” Negan said. “And you want to just walk the Love of your life, with a capital fucking L, right in there? Really?”

“Negan, shut the fuck up and stop fucking listenin’ in on my goddamn conversation. And don’t. talk. about her,” Daryl growled. Negan threw his hands up and backed off, pacing a tight circle up on the platform. Daryl gulped and sighed, rubbing a hand over his forehead. He caught your eyes again. “We ain’t got time to burn here. Shit is desperate back home and we dun even know how long this whole thing is gonna take, not to mention gettin’ the supplies back if we even manage to get 'em. I think we gotta go ahead and work with what we can,” he drawled.

You eyed the tunnel one more time but the sick feeling in your stomach remained the same. Your hand strayed to the hilt of your knife and you loosened it in your sheath. “Alright,” you conceded.

The last few members of the party who had remained on the platform hopped down, following Maggie. Several of them purposely bumped into Negan on their way. You were left standing there a few feet from him and happened to catch his eyes once the two of you were alone.

“You see that shit?” he asked with a dry laugh and a roll of his eyes.

“What, you think you don’t deserve it?” you said coldly. “Look, just because you and I happen to fucking agree about the creepy tunnel—that doesn’t make us friends.” You left him standing there and accepted Daryl’s waiting hand to help you down off the platform onto the tracks and into the dark.

[stardewstardropthoughts]

Okay so this thought has been infecting my mind- Shane is talking about how his mind won’t shut up and he drinks to calm it down and make reader is like “I normally just use sex-“ (this would be when they’re super close) and Shane is like “idk who I’d do that with, I don’t trust anyone enough” and the reader offers and now it’s a habit 👀

This got pretty long will not lie 😂 but I had fun writing it, it’s not has hot and heavy as most of my Shane stuff but I still like it lol, as per usual smut is under the cut MINORS PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT 💙

Content warning: little bit of degradation, little bit of praise, Afab reader

Shane when the farmer offers to be of use 👀

Your hanging out at the saloon again with Shane after he’s had a miserable day at work

“It’s like my mind just fucking lives to torment me I swear to god it never stops”

He’s mumbling while holding a cup of beer in his hands face on his arm on the counter

“Have you tried other methods of distraction?”

He looks up at you mildly interested in what you had to say, ever since you came here you’ve been dedicated to befriending him even when he tried to push you away

“Like I usually just have sex or masturbate if my minds to loud and I need a break”

His face is heating up at the implications but he decides to joke with you for a moment to ease the tension

“Oh yeah because there’s a line of people down the street to jump in my sheets right?”

You look down at him from where your sat and offer him a smile

“While, you can always try jumping in my sheets if you wanna give it a try”

God does he want to, he’s been thinking about you tangled up in bed with him forever

“Don’t fuck with me here sweetheart”

“Wouldn’t dream of it Shane, my offers serious, if you wanna take me up on it swing by the farm around seven tomorrow”

You throw him a smile as you pay for your tab and his tab, always so sweet to him dispute how much he hates it sometimes

And that’s how he found himself here, on your porch with an overnight bag slung over his shoulder and hesitating to knock

But you opened the door since you wanted to make sure your sprinklers were gonna work in the morning because you just had them installed

“Well hello there, here to take me up on that offer big boy?”

His mouth is dry as he tries to find his words again

“Uhhhh yeah, if it’s still up?”

Fuck yeah it is

Which is how you end up here, on his lap in an intense make out while he drags your shirt up over your head his shirt following suit very quickly

Hands grabbing, pulling, squeezing whatever they can reach as you whine against his lips when he’s particularly rough with your tits

Your palming his cock over his pants and he’s trying not to groan to loudly but fuck he’s been dreaming of this forever and he’ll be damned if he isn’t gonna indulge now that he has the chance

After a few moments your bra and underwear are on the floor and he’s above you admiring how your body looks underneath him

“Shit sweetheart if I knew this was on the table think I woulda come over sooner”

His hands are flipping your skirt up, pulling your thighs apart so he can admire your wet cunt before diving straight in eating you out like a man starved

Tongue rolling light circles over your clit, two fingers pumping in and out of your cunt at a leisurely pace while he scissors them open and closed to stretch you open a bit

Your hands threaded in his hair, you can feel the coil in your stomach tightening “fuck Shane please, right there shit don’t stop”

He hums in acknowledgment which sends vibrations through your clit ultimately pushing you over the edge of your first orgasm of the night

“Shit baby, did so good for me. Can’t wait to feel you around my cock”

He’s moving you so that your on your hands and knees on the bed, ass in the air back arched

Lands a firm smack on your ass, enjoying the squeak you let out at the contact

“Shhh love your okay, I’ll take good care of you”

Bottoms out immediately, giving you very little time to adjust to his cock before he’s slamming his hips into yours, hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave finger print bruises while he hauls you back to meet his thrusts

“Fucking feel so good shit, you like that? Like being impaled on my cock like a little slut? Yeah ya do”

One of his hands moves to your hair to pull your face out of the pillow so he can hear your moans better, the other wrapping around your body to rub at your overstimulated clit

You can hardly think straight with his cock slamming into you, lighting your nerves on fire with every touch

“Shit shit Shane fuck to much gonna cum again please”

“Sound so good when you beg for me, cum for me baby girl, be a good slut for me”

Curses as he feels your pussy spasming around him milking his cock as he cums with you

“Fuck sweetheart, may have to do that more often”

He’s cleaning you off currently, running you a hot bath and getting you some water

“Well, the doors always open ya know” you replied with a yawn

He gets in the tub with you and sits behind you so he can wash your hair and gently rub any sore spots on your body, very much gonna take you up on that offer again at some point

[loganlermanstanaccount]

What you deserve

pairing: Joel Miller x reader

(AO3 mirror)

summary: you confessed. Joel shut down. now he's trying to pick up the pieces.

warnings: angsty asf guys (whoops) , hurt/comfort with a twist! (mostly hurt, minimal comfort)

a/n: part 2 is up! read here.

wc: 800

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He walks into the room so quietly you jump at his voice.

"Ellie said you'd be here."

You don't turn around; fingers fumbling around the med bag you were rearranging. Had been rearranging. It was hard to do much with Joel's voice rattling around in your head.

Jackson was hard. The journey, even harder. Tess, Henry, little Sam. A list of names crossed out in a black ledger. In the heat of the moment, almost you. So finding this little safe haven just west of Wyoming was a miracle and a half. But somehow, you wished you were back out there. Like Joel, you'd take a clicker head on, just to avoid this conversation.

He rubs his wrists demurely and pads behind you. Close, heavy. Hands glancing at your waist.

"Don't." It comes out shakier than you meant it. Unsure. "Please, don't."

He pauses, steps away. "Just wanted a look at ya. That's all." No response. And then he says, "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you're avoidin' me."

You manage a dry chuckle and your shoulders heave, "...good thing you don't know any better."

"I mean it. Are ya…. are you ok? I wasn't thinking, sweetheart, I promise-"

Now, you turn around and look at him, and his voice dies in his throat. Joel Miller, square-jawed, handsome, even in the moonlight streaming into the clinic. Even pallid and pale from the stab wound at the base of his stomach. His brows are knitted together, worried. About you? It was fucking ironic, considering things.

"I just need time, Joel. I'll be okay, but I need time. And some space. And for you not to call me sweetheart, and look at me like-" -like that. Like you hung the moon and stars out in Jackson tonight. "Coworkers. Like you told Tommy. I'm fine, promise."

"Jesus." He steps closer, so this time you can feel his breath on your cheek. He takes your palms and kneads them in each hand. God, this isn't fair. He knows what he does to you, and yet here he is; cradling your hands and looking into your soul. He hasn't said a word and yet you can't move. You should, but you can't.

"M'sorry… listen- listen to me. Please, and then I'll fuck off wherever you wan' me to. Just need you to hear it."

You can't even look him in the eye.

"I thought I was gonna die, twice maybe, on the way back here. The first time, I was stupid. Raiders, fucking idiots, stompin' around the place. 10 years ago, I woulda seen them in time, gotten Ellie away. Wouldn't have gotten stabbed; not a chance. It was my fault. The second time," He pauses, hooks his thumb under your chin. He wants to see you when he says,

"The second time, I told Ellie to leave and get straight back to you. Thought that was it, thought I was a fuckin' goner and then, 10 minutes later, she comes back with a rusty needle and thread from God knows where - and tries to patch me up. All I could think, was that if I survived this, you would kill me. I could hear your voice, clear as day; 'Joel, you so much as get an infection from these shitty stitches I'll finish you off myself', 'Joel, I told you to practice first aid with Ellie every now and then, or you're both gonna regret it,' " He's smiling now. It's sweet and he's so pretty in the gentle light.

" 'Joel, you come back in one piece' "

"Except you left," you say, staring right back at him. "Before I could tell you to come back safe, Joel. Before I could say goodbye."

"I know. And m'sorry, doll. I meant what I said….before. It hurt to say it, but I did. I can't give you what you deserve."

A small sob, and you shake your head. "No, we're not… we're not doing this again-"

"Just hear me out, okay? We don't just work together and it was dumb of me to say so. I'm sorry. Maybe I should've said something when Tess told me. H-how you felt. I'm sorry." and now, a little quieter, "You deserve more than what I can give you. What we do, smuggling shit in the QZ, it's not- it's not a life. That's what you need. A warm bed every night. Dinner parties. Those disgusting fuckin' noodle packets ya like to hoard. All you can eat, sweetheart. Friends. A family, maybe. Someone who can protect you. A life. Please don't cry… you know I don't like to see you cry,"

He wipes the tears from your cheek. "That's why I said what I did. Not to spite you. But because you know I'm an emotionally stunted ass who's only gonna hurt you."

***

part 2

[noturlesson]

A Comforting Snack

[I’m starting to feel the rocky beginnings of a depressive episode, so in order to save myself some sanity, A Sal x Reader which is rlly just a self insert. Reader is black and southern. This is a bit more unfiltered than my other posts, so more aave is used.]

Sal x gn!reader - no reader pronouns used

Synop: Reader is very upset about smth (this is for all my depressed ppl so u can just insert your own situation) and Sal comes by and shares their favorite snack with them.

Warnings: Angst, depression, crying, all of that icky stuff.

It was irritating, really. You felt like crying, but the tears never left your eyes. You cursed yourself for all the times you bottled your emotions, woulda been a lot easier to cry right now if you hadn’t. But it’s whatever, the music blasting in your ears right now was doing all the work for you.

You pulled your legs into your chest, returning to that oso comforting fetal position. Your mind spun, thoughts racing, yet you weren’t thinking of anything. What had you this upset? You couldn’t answer that. It just happened, and you were helpless against the waves of sorrow washing over you. Your phone buzzed over and over, but you ignored it. After all, answering text messages wasn’t going to allow you to wallow in self pity. You were so deep in your thoughts that you didn’t even notice the soft knocking on your bedroom door.

It creaked open, a familiar off-white and pink prosthetic peering through the crack. You frowned when his gaze fell on your face. He furrowed his brows, which you could make out through the eyeholes of his mask, and it made your stomach churn bitterly. He stepped in silently, closing the door gently behind him. You pulled off your headphones, pausing the loud music. Once fully inside, Sal held up a black plastic bag and shook it softly, signaling he had gotten your favorite snacks.

You felt your face scrunch up, and that’s when the waterworks came. Unable to stop them, you choked on a sob, and the tears came pouring down your face. You brought your hand up to try and cover your mouth, but it did nothing to stop the pathetic whimpers that escaped you.

Sal’s eyes widened, and he hurried over to you, seating himself next to you on your bed. He placed the bag to the side, scooping your shuddering body up seating you upright so that you leaned against him. You cried into his arms, your fingers clinging on to the cotton fabric of his striped shirt. He remained silent, opting to move his hand to your head as his fingers massaged your scalp, pressing into the spaces between your cornrows. The wig you were wearing was long since discarded and you didn’t have the energy to find your bonnet.

You cried harder, unable to understand why Sal was so kind to you. Not that you thought you weren’t deserving, you knew you were. But someone doing something for you out of the kindness of their heart (especially when you were in a time of need) was extremely foreign to you. You buried your face into his chest, tears soaking the material. He continued to play with your hair, this time pulling you into his lap so he could use both hands.

As he did so, you wholeheartedly accepted his affection, allowing yourself to let all your emotions out, despite how ugly you looked at the moment. And Sal was patient with you, rocking you back and forth slowly to further soothe you. He hummed the tune of your favorite song (Everlong by Foo Fighters obv) softly, effectively subduing you into a complete puddle of mush in his arms. You moved so that you could wrap your arms around him, hands resting on his upper back as your fingers clung to his shirt. You were like a child in their mother’s arms with him, a level of comfort you hadn’t felt in entirely too long.

When you were finally calmed down, he pulled back and stared into your puffy eyes. You sniffled, staring back at him with confusion and a little embarrassment because oh my god you really just sobbed into his shirt like a fucking baby. And even if you couldn’t see it, you knew he was smiling softly at you. God, how did you find someone so perfect? He tilted his head to the baggy on the floor, eyes flashing you a questioning look. Your eyes flickered over to the bag, remembering that it was the reason you even started crying in the first place, and nodded.

He nodded at you, removing his hands from your hair (to your dismay) and stopping to swipe away some of your tears with his thumb before leaning to the side and grabbing the bag. You watched Sally intently as he pulled out a small white and yellow cup. Your eyes lit up at the sight of it, and you playfully slapped his chest.

“Say on God.” You whispered, jaw on the floor.

He chuckled at you and shook his head. “On God.” You couldn’t help but smile and took the cup from him carefully. The styrofoam was warm against your hands, and when you removed the lid, you almost cried again as the nostalgic scent of spicy cajun boiled peanuts hit your nose. He even remembered to put some of the broth in the cup as well, which was honestly your favorite part of the whole thing.

You looked up at him, a huge smile on your face. “Where you even find these at? Ian think Nockfell had ‘em.” None of the corner stores you had been to here carried them, but that just came with moving up north.

He shrugged, “Don’t worry about it, just know that I found them for you.” You could hear the smile in his voice, and it warmed your heart. You nodded, taking one of the nuts from the cup, cracking it open with your teeth, and quickly eating its contents. They were just as good from when you last had them years ago. You offered him one, and he declined. “Their yours.” He said simply, hands now resting on your hips.

You pouted, setting the cup down in your lap. “Ion want ‘em if I can’t share with you.” Sal signed, knowing that he couldn’t fight with you. He didn’t really like spicy foods, but if it made you happy, then he would gladly eat all the spiciest foods the world had to offer. He unclamped the bottom half of his mask then lifted it, opening his mouth for you.

You placed a peanut between his teeth. “Bite.” You instructed. He bit down, a crunch signaling that the shell cracked. You pulled the peanut back, pulling the top shell off to reveal the real prize inside. You then tapped the shell so the nuts [please what else do I call these] would fall out. A hum left your lips when Sal started chewing, and then you went back to eating your own helping. It was quiet while you two ate, only the occasional crunch being heard.

After you had your fill (and forced Sal to try some more despite his complaints of the heat), he spoke. “You feeling better now?”

“Mhm, a lot better. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me, it’s what I’m supposed to do.” He smiled, and you saw it this time. It was beautiful, despite the huge slit that twisted his lips and left some of his teeth exposed. It was genuine and honest, and was so soft. You smiled back at him, leaning forward to hug him.

“I love you.”

[ofstoriesandstardust]

(hi it’s gratitude anon again)

for the october prompts thing if you get some time:

⁹⁾ the taste of honey from someone else’s lips

+ my love dani

thank you darling 🥰

october prompts! (still accepting!)

i wrote this on the bus while listening to she by dodie and YEARNING. god i'm so soft for this woman what have you done to me

warnings: swearing, dani just kinda gives mechanic vibes ya know?

wc: 844

She’s staring. 

She knows she’s staring and she knows she needs to stop but she can’t help it, hands falling still as she watches you from where she’s bent over, elbow deep into the hood of Tyler’s truck. 

You’re stood across Kate’s farm, talking to her and Javi. You do look rather nice today, hair gleaming in the beaming sun. Your eyes are extra bright, your jeans hugging your hips just right, your nails a new color. 

But then again, she might be biased cause she thinks you always look nice. 

But no, her eyes are drawn to your lips, a new chapstick flavor clutched in your hand as you keep talking to Javi and Kate, the minuscule movement all but forgotten by you three when it’s all she can focus on. 

What flavor was that?

The last had been a cherry of sorts, and she couldn’t help the thoughts of wondering what your lips tasted like with it on.

“You’re fucking pathetic.” Lilly snorts and she belatedly turns to look at her friend. Lilly simply shakes her head, clicking her tongue. 

Tyler huffs. “Are you gonna help me fix this or not?” 

“I am!” She protests, head jutting down to her arms that are covered in oil and grease. “You think I’m this deep into the guts of your truck for shits?” 

Tyler’s still peeved though as he ducks under the hood, peering down at where her hands are. “I need someone who’s actually gonna be useful. If I wanted an unhelpful set of hands, I woulda called Boone over here.” 

“Tyler-“ She huffs, but he shakes his head, lifting himself up to get closer. 

“Lil, can you help me with this?” He says, Lilly uneasily nodding as she sets the tablet she’s holding aside. “You go get washed up.” 

Dani huffs but knows better to challenge Tyler, not when he’s this annoyed at least, and retracts her arms from the car. She wanders around the back of the barn, picking up the hose to wash off. It won’t get everything, she’ll still have to do a good scrub in the kitchen sink but it’ll get enough so that Cathy doesn’t get annoyed at greasy fingerprints leaving their remnants. 

“T’s terrorizing Lilly, making her do that work.” 

She glances up to find you coming to plop yourself on a stray hay barrel as she turns the hose off. She drops it, unable to say anything as her words get caught in her throat.

You really do look exceptionally pretty today, what with the way your hair looks oh-so-soft and the way you’re smiling at her as you lean forward, hands propped up at the edge of the hay bale.

“What flavor?” You hum, question clear in the sweet noise. “The flavor of um, your new chapstick.” She says awkwardly, gesturing to where it sits in your pocket. 

You hum again, smile growing. “Why don’t you come find out?” 

It feels like she stops breathing for a moment as your words register in her head. 

Was that really- were you really- 

She’s silent too long, because you let out a light laugh. 

“C’mon Dani, I don’t usually know you to be so hesitant.” 

Your eyes are tinted with teasing mirth and you tip your head up, only making the invitation more clear. 

Oh. So you were asking. 

And she doesn’t know what this means for your friendship but she also knows she doesn’t know if she’ll get another chance so she moves forward, only pausing once more as her hand finds your chin in silent question. 

You nod, eyes fluttering closed, and god, for as strong as she usually is, she’s weak for this. 

For you. 

She has to bend over slightly to reach you at the angle, you pushing yourself up to meet her, but it’s soft, it’s sweet, it’s everything to her. 

You pull away too soon for her liking, and she doesn’t move, swallowing hard as you grin up at her. 

“So? What’s the verdict?” 

“Honey.” She whispers softly. “You taste like honey.” 

And you had, honey with a hint of vanilla. 

But more so, you had tasted like home. 

It makes her chest ache, wondering if she’ll ever get to taste that taste again as she drops her hand, taking a half step back. 

You’re looking up at her, so soft and kind, with an unbridled warmth she hears all her friends claim you look at her with when she isn’t looking. 

“You like it? Or should I switch to something else you think?” 

She feels like she’s still struggling to get her brain online, staring at you as she wonders why you would care what she thinks of the taste. You must be able to read her mind, grinning at her as you stand up. She can hear Javi call out for you but you pay him no mind, still smiling. “C’mon Dani.” You say softly, just inches away from her. “You have to know that I picked it for you. You’re the one who loves honey after all.” 

[girl4music]

DOC: “You had no right!”

WYNONNA: “I did what was right!”

DOC: “Right woulda been shooting that thing and us running for it.”

WYNONNA: “He wasn’t always a thing, Doc. And if I’m gonna keep killing them and not go crazy, I need more than revenge…”

DOC: “Goddammit, Wynonna! They’re bad people.”

WYNONNA: “So I just ignore they’re people at all?”

DOC: “I spent over 100 years in the dark, at the bottom of a dried-up old well. Do you know what thought I turned over and over in my head? What I lived on? The sheer knowledge that I would pay back the bitch that made me what I am. This monster.”

WYNONNA: “You’re not a monster.”

DOC: “But a lesser man than Fish. I saw her today. At least I think I did. And she… her power… I couldn’t.”

WYNONNA: “That’s why you stayed. Not to help us.”

DOC: “I staked that man out there. I knew what would happen to him and I staked him still. Even worse, I would stake every revenant in this world and most of the humans too if that’s what it takes to destroy Constance Clootie.”

WYNONNA: “Well, I need rules, Doc. A code. Otherwise I’ll end up just like you.”

DOC: “Oh, stop kidding yourself, Wynonna. You’re exactly like me.”

This whole conversation. Damn it’s deep. It’s probably one of my favourite character interactions in the entire show. And the fact that this is the interaction between Wynonna and Doc that makes them kiss and fuck for the first time. Oh,… it’s all so good and so well done!

There’s some very good writing in this show that really justifies the motivations and choices and actions of the characters. It’s like soap opera levels of drama but it’s like it gives you higher stakes and consequences.

That’s another reason why I love supernatural/fantasy so much. Because the melodrama just hits differently.

Here the attraction and desire between Wynonna and Doc is amped up because they’ve admitted they’re just like each other. They both have deep jagged edges that cut and saw and the pain is mutual.

Unhealthy, sure. But it is a way of finding a deeper connection beyond that attraction and desire and so it fuels the heat they feel for each other in the moment. You know, that sudden recognition of “You’re dark - just like me”, “You’re in pain - just like me”, “You’re lost - just like me”, “You’re an outsider - just like me.”

They’re very Spuffy-like actually. Except Buffy would have never offered Spike this much faith when he was soulless. And Wynonna and Doc are not exactly enemies-to-lovers but they have the same passionate but rocky rollercoaster of a journey to navigate through and overcome based on the type of people they are. And they’re virtually mirror reflections of each other. Anti-matter equivalents. That push-and-pullness to them where they’re so toxic to each other they shouldn’t be good for each other. But that’s exactly what makes them work. The fact that they shouldn’t because they’re naturally opposed. Now Doc was always supposed to be on the same side but due to the brutality and cruelty he was dealt by Bulshar and Constance, and the rejection by Wyatt, it made sense that he chose to stand on the other side initially but then grew to love his crazy found family once again. They always were meant to stand together as heroes rather than against each other as enemies.

And how you know that’s 100% true is because they do a 180 at the end of the show and it really hits because by that point it was Wynonna that was shut off and shut down to the power of love and forgiveness. That was driven by vengeance and violence and that had to open her heart to Doc.

I’m so SO glad Andras chose to play it that way. To have her chase after him instead of the other way around even if that does seem like she’s desperate. Because she had already proven that her vulnerability didn’t outweigh her power or make it seem less than. If anything - it did the opposite. Made her even more. And I loved that so much. I really fucking loved that!

She’s always been the black sheep of society and of her family. So has he. And that’s why they worked. Something that you would think would not work at all because it’s contradictory is what makes those jagged little pieces not only fit - but also function together. When you find that deeper connection - as mad or bizarre as it might be - it’s still a deeper connection and it will still tell a deep and beautiful TV love story.